MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD

ROMANCE AND BALLAD

After the Norman Conquest (1066) a great change took place in English society and literature. Among the outstanding features of the new social order were the establishment of Feudalism with its elaborate class distinctions, and of Chivalry with its emphasis upon courtly etiquette. At the top of the social ladder were the conquerors, who spoke and wrote in a dialect of French known as Anglo-Norman, and who, before their arrival in England, had become thoroughly embued with French culture. As a result the literature of England after 1066 was brought into closer touch than ever before with European culture, and consequently became more cosmopolitan in character.

From the Norman Conquest till the close of the Middle Ages the standards of culture and literature in England were largely French. Though Middle English, the descendant of Old English, more or less mixed with French, remained among the common people as a spoken language, writings regarded as important were generally composed in Anglo-Norman or in the more dignified Latin. Through Anglo-Norman or Latin the literature of England was enriched by numerous themes and ideas derived not only from classical antiquity but also from the Scandinavians and Celts. Since the literature of medieval England is one of the great sources from which later writers, notably the poets and historical novelists of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, drew their inspiration, we cannot confine ourselves to strictly Middle English works if we are to appreciate fully the richness of the streams of tradition which poured into the great reservoir of mediæval literary culture.

The literary forms current in England during the Middle Ages were numerous. Among the most important were the romances of chivalry, ancestors of the modern novel, in which tales derived from classical or mediæval sources were retold in terms of chivalric society and with strong emphasis upon love and adventure. From the Breton, Welsh, or Irish Celts came wonder-tales of heroes, gods, and fairies, which furnished plots for short narrative poems known as Breton Lays and for a great body of romance dealing with exploits of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. In Geoffrey of Monmouth's Latin History of the Kings of Britain Arthur appeared for the first time as a great king surrounded by a brilliant court where Anglo-Norman chivalry and courtly love replaced the barbaric manners of the ancient Celts. In Layamon's Brut the Arthurian story was adopted as the national epic of the English people. In the numerous Arthurian romances in prose or verse, the wistful charm of ancient Celtic literature is seen only through the eyes of the practical, courtly Norman. Other romances deal with themes derived from Oriental, Classical, or Scandinavian tradition.

The remaining types of medieval literature include the drama (which grew out of the church service and dealt with Bible stories and saints' lives), satires on the abuses of society or the church (e.g., Piers Plowman), chronicles (from which we get many historical facts and an occasional glimpse of real life in a monastery), vast encyclopedias (which attempted to fit all knowledge sacred and secular into the framework of medieval science and philosophy), a large body of lyric poems in Latin, French, or English (many of which reveal a keen enjoyment of life), and numerous ballads recording in simple language tales of popular heroes, of superstition, or of tragedy, which had impressed themselves upon the imagination of the common people.

Near the end of the Middle Ages Chaucer, with keen humor and inimitable genius, painted in his Canterbury Tales an unforgettable picture of fourteenth-century society and transmitted to posterity much of what was best in the literature of the Middle Ages.

WRITINGS IN CELTIC, FRENCH, AND LATIN

THE FEAST OF BRICRIU *

IRISH

I have others as well. But neither in Erin nor in Alba nor in Europe nor in Africa nor in Asia, with Greece, Scythia, the Orkney Islands, the Pillars of Hercules, Bregon's 5 Tower (Brigantium), and the Isles of Gades have I found the quest on which I have come, nor a man to do me fairplay regarding it. Since you Ulstermen have excelled all the folks of those lands in strength, prowess,

truth, generosity and worth, get one among you to give me the boon I crave.'

THE CHAMPION'S BARGAIN Once upon a time as the Ulstermen were in Emain, fatigued after the gathering and the games, Conchobar and Fergus mac Roig, with Ulster's nobles as well, proceeded from the sporting field outside and seated themselves in the Royal Court (lit. Red Branch) of Conchobar. Neither Cuchulainn nor Con- 10 valor; in rank, magnanimity, dignity; in all the Victorious nor Loegaire the Triumphant were there that night. But the hosts of Ulster's valiant heroes were there. As they were seated, it being eventide, and the day drawing towards the close, they saw a bach- 15 Roig, 'because of one man who fails in keeplach (big uncouth fellow) of exceeding ugliness drawing nigh them into the hall. To them it seemed as if none of the Ulstermen would reach half his height. Horrible and ugly was the carle's guise. Next his skin he 20 wore an old hide with a dark dun mantle around him, and over him a great spreading club-tree (branch) the size of a winter-shed under which thirty bullocks could find shel

'In sooth it is not just that the honor of a province be carried off,' quoth Fergus mac

ing his word of honor. Death, certainly, is
not a whit nearer to him than to you.' 'Not
that I shun it,' quoth he. 'Make thy quest
known to us then,' quoth Fergus mac Roig.
'If but fairplay be vouchsafed me, I will tell
it.' 'It is right to give fairplay,' quoth
Sencha, son of Ailill, 'for it beseemeth not a
great clannish folk to break a mutual cove-
nant over any unknown individual. To us

such a person, you will find here one worthy of you.' 'Conchobar I put aside,' quoth he, 'for sake of his sovranty, and Fergus mac Roig also on account of his like privilege.

ter. Ravenous yellow eyes he had, protrud- 25 too it seems likely, if at long last you find ing from his head, each of the two the size of an ox-vat. Each finger as thick as another person's wrist. In his left hand a stick, a burden for twenty yoke of oxen. In his right hand an axe weighing thrice fifty glowing 30 These two excepted, come whosoever of you molten masses [of metal]. Its handle would require a plough-team (a yoke of six) to move it. Its sharpness such that it would lop off hairs, the wind blowing them against its edge.

that may venture, that I may cut off his head to-night, he mine to-morrow night.'

'Sure then there is no warrior here,' quoth Duach, 'after these two.' 'By my troth 35 there will be this moment,' quoth Munremar, son of Gercenn, as he sprang on to the floor of the hall. The strength then of that Munremar was as the strength of a hundred warriors, each arm having the might of a hundred 'centaurs.' 'Bend down, bachlach,' quoth Munremar, 'that I may cut your head off to-night, you to cut off mine to-morrow night.' 'Were that my quest, I could have got it anywhere,' quoth the bachlach.

In that guise he went and stood by the fork-beam beside the fire. 'Is the hall lacking in room for you,' quoth Duach of the Chafer Tongue to the uncouth clodhopper, 'that you find no other place than by the 40 fork-beam, unless you wish to be domestic luminary? only sooner will a blaze be to the house than brightness to the household.' 'What property soever may be mine, sooth you will agree, no matter how big I am, that 45 'Let us act according to our covenant,' he the household as a whole will be enlightened,

while the hall will not be burnt.

'That, however, is not my sole function;

quoth, 'I to cut off your head to-night, you to avenge it to-morrow night.' 'By my people's god,' quoth Duach of the Chafer

*Based on translation by George Henderson, Irish Texts Society, 1899. By permission of the Secretary.

Tongue, 'death is thus for thee no pleasant prospect should the man killed to-night attack thee on the morrow. It is given to you alone if you have the power, being killed night after night to avenge it next day.' "Truly I will carry out what you all as a body agree upon by way of counsel, strange as it may seem to you,' quoth the bachlach. He then pledged the other to keep his troth in this contention as to fulfilling his tryst on 10 head to the top rafter of the Red Branch till the morrow.

Champion's Portion, yet are unable to contest it. Where is yon poor mad fellow that is called Cuchulainn? Fain would I know if his word be better than the others.' 'No 5 covenant do I desire with you,' quoth Cuchulainn. 'Likely is that, you wretched fly; greatly dost thou fear to die.' Whereupon Cuchulainn sprang towards him and dealt him a blow with the axe, hurling his

the whole hall shook. Cuchulainn again caught up the head and gave it a blow with the axe and smashed it. Thereafter the bachlach rose up.

On the morrow the Ulstermen were watching Cuchulainn to see whether he would shirk the bachlach as the other heroes had done. As Cuchulainn was awaiting the bachlach, they saw that great dejection seized him.

With that Munremar took the axe from out of the bachlach's hand. Seven feet apart were its two angles. Then did the bachlach put his neck across the block. Munremar 15 dealt a blow across it with the axe till it stuck in the block underneath, cutting off the head till it lay by the base of the fork-beam, the house being filled with the blood. Straightway the bachlach rose, recovered 20 It had been fitting had they sung his dirge. himself, clasped his head, block and axe to They felt sure his life would last only till his breast, thus made his exit from the hall the bachlach came. Then said Cuchulainn with blood streaming from his neck. It filled with shame to Conchobar: "Thou shall not the Red Branch on every side. Great was go until my pledge to the bachlach is fulthe folk's horror, wondering at the marvel 25 filled; for death awaits me, and I would that had appeared to them. 'By my people's god,' quoth Duach of the Chafer Tongue, 'if the bachlach, having been killed to-night, come back to-morrow, he will not leave a man alive in Ulster.' The following night, 30 however, he returned, and Munremar shirked him. Then began the bachlach to urge his pact with Munremar. 'Sooth it is not right for Munremar not to fulfil his covenant with me.'

rather have death with honor.'

They were there as the day was closing when they saw the bachlach approaching. 'Where is Cuchulainn?' he quoth. 'Here am I,' he answered. 'You're dull of speech tonight, unhappy one; greatly you fear to die. Yet, though great your fear, death you have not shirked.' Thereafter Cuchulainn went up to him and stretched his neck across the 35 block, which was of such size that his neck reached but half-way. 'Stretch out your neck, you wretch,' said the bachlach. 'You keep me in torment,' quoth Cuchulainn. 'Despatch me quickly; last night, by my troth, I tormented you not. Verily I swear if you torment me, I shall make myself as long as a crane above you.' 'I cannot slay you,' quoth the bachlach, 'what with the size of the block and the shortness of your 45 neck and of your side.'

That night, however, Loegaire the Triumphant was present. 'Who of the warriors that contest Ulster's Champion's Portion will carry out a bargain to-night with me? Where is Loegaire the Triumphant?' quoth 40 he. 'Here,' said Locgaire. He pledged him too, yet Loegaire kept not his tryst. The bachlach returned on the morrow and similarly pledged Conall Cernach, who came not as he had sworn.

The fourth night the bachlach returned, and fierce and furious was he. All the ladies of Ulster came that night to see the strange marvel that had come into the Red Branch.

Then Cuchulainn stretched out his neck so that a warrior's full-grown foot would have fitted between any two of his ribs; his neck he distended till it reached the other side of

That night Cuchulainn was there also. Then 50 the block. The bachlach raised his axe till

the fellow began to upbraid them. 'Ye men of Ulster, your valour and your prowess are gone. Your warriors greatly covet the

it reached the roof-tree of the hall. The creaking of the old hide that was about the fellow and the crashing of the axe - both

his arms being raised aloft with all his
might were as the loud noise of a wood
tempest-tossed in a night of storm. Down
it came then . . . on his neck, its blunt
side below; all the nobles of Ulster were 5
gazing upon them.

'Thy flowing golden hair, thy comely face, Thy tall majestic form of peerless grace, That show thee sprung from Conn's exalted race.'

King Conn the Hundred-fighter, being much troubled, called then on his druid, Coran, to put forth his power against the witchery of the fairy woman

'O Coran of the mystic arts and of the mighty incantations, here is a contest such as I have never been engaged in since I have been rulera contest with an invisible being. The witch-charms of a woman are

'O Cuchulainn, arise! . . . Of the warriors of Ulster and Erin, no matter what their mettle, none is found to be compared with thee in valor, bravery and truthfulness. 10 The sovranty of the heroes of Erin to thee from this hour forth and the Champion's Portion undisputed, and to thy lady the precedence always of the ladies of Ulster in the Mead Hall. And whosoever shall lay 15 taking away my son. wager against thee from now, as my folks swear I swear, while on life he will be in [sore danger].' Then the bachlach vanished.

Then the druid sang a charm against the voice of the woman, so that no one, including the young prince heard her, and she disappeared.

As she was going away she gave an apple to Connla. Connla remained for a whole month without tasting food or drink, except the apple. And though he ate of it, it was never lessened, but remained whole. More

deem any other food worthy to be tasted. A longing seized him for the fairy-woman whom he had seen.

One day as Connla of the Golden Hair, 25 over, in comparison with his apple he did not son of Conn the Hundred-fighter, stood with his father on the royal Hill of Usna, he saw approaching a woman dressed in wonderful attire. "Whence comest thou, maiden," asked the prince.

At the end of the month, Connla stood by 30 his father's side on the Plain of Arcomin [on the seacoast], and he saw the same lady approaching. Then said she to him

The lady replied, 'I have come from the Land of the Living — a land where there is neither death nor sin. We pass our time pleasantly in feasting and harmless amusements; and we have no quarrels or conten- 35 tions. We live in great peace (sid); therefore we are called Side (Fairy-folk).' 'Who is this thou art talking to, my son?' said the king, for no one but Connla saw the

woman.

'A glorious seat, indeed, has Connla among wretched, short-lived mortals, awaiting dreadful death! But now, the ever-youthful people of Moy-mell, who never feel old age, seeing thee day by day among thy friends, in the assemblies of thy native land, invite thee to their land. A hero seemest thou to them! 40 When the king heard the words of the maiden, he said to his people

She answered for the youth, 'Connla is speaking with a lovely, nobleborn maiden, who will never die, and who will never grow old. I love Connla of the Golden Hair, and I have come to bring him with me to Moy- 45 mell, the plain of pleasure, where King Boadag rules for ever; his land knowns neither grief nor woe. Come with me, O Connla of the ruddy cheek, the fair, freckled neck, and the blond hair! Come with me, and thou 50 shalt retain the youth and beauty of thy form, free from the wrinkles of old age.

'Bring my druid, Coran, to me; for I see that the fairy woman has this day regained the power of her voice.'

At this the lady said, 'O Conn, fighter of a hundred battles, put not your faith in the art of the druid. A just one with many noble attendants shall tread the wide strand. Full soon his law shall reach thee and shall break the druidic charms before the eyes of that black sorcerer the devil.'

Now Conn wondered that, as soon as the

*The verse is by P. W. Joyce, Old Celtic Romances, David Nutt, 1894.

woman had appeared Connla addressed no one else.

'Connla, my son,' asked the king, 'has thy mind been moved by the words of the lady?'

Connla replied, 'Father, I am troubled; 5 though I love my people beyond all, yet I am filled with longing on account of this lady!' Then sang the woman

A peaceful land of calm delight, of everlast- 30 ing bloom;

Old age and death we never know, no sick

* Revision of translation by K. Meyer, Royal Irish Acad., Todd Lect. Ser. XVI, p. xxviii.