Erik Kooper - The Medieval Chronicle VII-Rodopi (2011)

The Medieval
Chronicle VII
The Medieval Chronicle 7

Series Editor:
Erik Kooper
Frontispiece
Poisoning of King John.
From the 1583 edition of John Foxe’s Book of Martyrs
(See: Anna Seregina, ‘Religious Controversies and History
Writing in Sixteenth-Century England’)
The Medieval
Chronicle VII
Guest Editors
Juliana Dresvina
Nicholas Sparks
General Editor
Erik Kooper
Amsterdam - New York, NY 2011

The paper on which this book is printed meets the requirements
of “ISO 9706:1994, Information and documentation - Paper for
documents - Requirements for permanence”.
ISBN: 978-90-420-3342-9
E-Book ISBN: 978-94-012-0041-7
©Editions Rodopi B.V., Amsterdam - New York, NY 2011
Printed in the Netherlands
CONTENTS
Contents ............................................................................................ v
Contributors .................................................................................... vii
Preface ............................................................................................. ix
Julia Bolton Holloway ...................................................................... 1

Romancing the Chronicle
Nicholas Evans ............................................................................... 15

The Irish Chronicles and the British to Anglo-Saxon Transition
in Seventh-Century Northumbria
Sally Lamb ...................................................................................... 45

Evidence from Absence: Omission and Inclusion in Early
Medieval Annals
Nicholas Sparks ............................................................................ 63

The ‘Parker Chronicle’: Chronology Gone Awry
Thea Summerfield ........................................................................... 85

Filling the Gap: Brutus in the Historia Brittonum, Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle MS F, and Geoffrey of Monmouth
Alan Cooper .................................................................................. 103

Walter Map on Henry I: The Creation of Eminently Useful
History
Jane Roberts ................................................................................. 115

Ældad’s Judgement: An Episode in Lahamon’s Brut
Helen Fulton ................................................................................ 137

Troy Story: The Medieval Welsh Ystorya Dared and the Brut
Tradition of British History
Meredith Clermont-Ferrand ......................................................... 151
Joan of Arc and the English Chroniclers: Monstrous Presence
and Problematic Absence in The Chronicle of London, The
Chronicle of William of Worcester, and An English Chronicle
1377-1461
Sarah L. Peverley ......................................................................... 167

Chronicling the Fortunes of Kings: John Hardyng’s use of Wal-
ton’s Boethius, Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde, and Lydgate’s
‘King Henry VI’s Triumphal Entry into London’
Matthew Phillpott ......................................................................... 205

The Compilation of a Sixteenth-Century Ecclesiastical History:
The Use of Matthew Paris in John Foxe’s Acts and Monuments
Anna Seregina ............................................................................ 223

Religious Controversies and History Writing in Sixteenth-
Century England
Marije Pots and Erik Kooper ....................................................... 239

Arthur. A New Critical Edition of the Fifteenth-Century Middle
English Verse Chronicle
CONTRIBUTORS
Julia Bolton Holloway – Mediatheca ‘Fioretta Mazzei’ – Florence (I)

Meredith Clermont-Ferrand – English Department – Eastern Connec-
ticut State University – Willimantic, CT (USA)
Alan Cooper – Department of History – Colgate University – Hamil-
ton, NY (USA)
Juliana Dresvina – St Edmund’s College – University of Cambridge /
Department of English – University of Reading / Institut national
d’histoire de l’art – Paris (UK/F)
Nicholas Evans – School of Humanities – University of Glasgow
(UK)
Helen Fulton – Centre for Medieval Studies – University of York
(UK)
Erik Kooper – Department of English – Utrecht University (NL)
Sally Lamb – Newnham College – University of Cambridge (UK)
Sarah L. Peverley – School of English – University of Liverpool (UK)
Matthew Phillpott – Institute of Historical Research – University of
London (UK)
Marije Pots – Independent Scholar – Utrecht (NL)
Jane Roberts – Institute of English Studies – University of London
(UK)
Anna Seregina – Institute of World History – Russian Academy of
Sciences – Moscow (RU)
Nicholas Sparks – Fitzwilliam College – University of Cambridge
(UK)
Thea Summerfield – Department of English – Utrecht University (NL)
PREFACE
While Erik Kooper is the general editor of The Medieval Chronicle,

the present volume, the seventh in the series, delivers a special issue.
This issue was handled by guest editors Juliana Dresvina and Nicholas
Sparks, of the University of Cambridge. The reason for this is that the
contents of the present volume is derived, for the most part, from
papers presented at the first Cambridge International Chronicle Sym-
posium (CICS) on 11-13 July 2008, of which Juliana and Nicholas
were co-organisers. This arrangement is not uncalled-for since the
previous volume (i.e. 2009) of The Medieval Chronicle includes
papers also from CICS 2008: Alan Deyermond’s inaugural plenary
address, entitled ‘Written by the Victors’ on late-medieval Spanish
historiography, which, sadly, turned out to be the last paper Alan ever
published, and Tara Andrews’ ‘New Age of Prophecy’ on Matthew of
Edessa. What remained for publication (by Alan Cooper, Julia Bolton
Holloway, Sally Lamb, Matthew Phillpott, Anna Seregina and
Nicholas Sparks) had therefore to be set ahead to 2011, destined for a
thematic volume with a special focus on chronicles written in Britain.
These are joined by a number of scholars many of whom already have
firmly established connections with The Medieval Chronicle journal.
The volume itself, while thematically coherent, aims at achieving both
chronological and methodological diversity, discussing texts and
authors from Bede to Bale from a point of view of linguists, histo-
rians, paleographers and literary critics.
The Cambridge International Chronicles Symposium was begun by
Nicholas Sparks in 2007. The idea for it grew out of discussion with
members of the Department of Anglo-Saxon, Norse, and Celtic, the
University of Cambridge. The object of the Symposium was to be a
compact, biennial affair aimed at talking between the disciplines, for
promoting ongoing research between colleagues, and for strengthen-
ing the network of chronicle studies worldwide. CICS 2008 was
followed in events by the greatly expanded CICS 2010 on 16-18 July,
held again in the English Faculty building at the University of Cam-
bridge, while the next CICS meeting in scheduled to take place in the
Summer of 2012.
The editors wish to thank all of those who have contributed to our
Cambridge Symposia for thoughtful and well-researched papers and
for stimulating and interesting discussion; the reviewers of the papers
published here for their invaluable comments; and most of all, we
wish to thank Erik Kooper for his unfailing support and trust in our
endeavours. May The Medieval Chronicle grow stronger still under
his wise leadership.
Juliana Dresvina – Nicholas Sparks
ROMANCING THE CHRONICLE
Julia Bolton Holloway
Abstract
This paper outlines the games of lie and truth that chroniclers and
romance writers play in their texts, oral and scribal. It discusses as-
pects of the Chronicle in the Iliad, the Odyssey, the Aeneid, the
Bible, Eusebius, Bede, Beowulf, the Chanson de Roland, Brunetto
Latino, Dante Alighieri, Italian Renaissance epics, Irish Annals and
Bulgarian marginalia. The essay is organised, like Wace, on the
Matter of France, the Matter of Rome, the Matter of Britain, and to
which the Matter of Ireland and the Matter of Bulgaria are added,
comparing the chronicling work of Michael Ó Cléirigh and Paisii
Hilandarski using the original documents, as well as Native
American and Maori oral literature. It ends with a discussion of
censorship in and upon history under Henry IV and Archbishop
Arundel. The conclusion discusses the hypertexting of all this
material as chronicle, epic, romance, novel, in Icelandic sagas and
elsewhere.
Simone Weil in her essay ‘Iliad, Poem of Might’ wrote:

But nothing of all that the people of Europe have produced is worth the
first known poem to have appeared among them. Perhaps they will
rediscover that epic genius when they learn how to accept the fact that
nothing is sheltered from fate, how never to admire might, or hate the
enemy, or to despise sufferers. It is doubtful if this will happen soon.
(1977: 183)
First the alphabet (initially in the form of Phoenician/Etruscan runes

which travelled along the trade routes for tin, amber and other pre-
cious substances), then the Bible, were introduced into Europe, giving
us literacy, that literacy reaching as far as Iceland, Greenland and
Vinland (Jean 1992; Amadasi 2001).1 Originally, the alphabet was
dual and coupled with a numerical system. It was a taxonomy, a
technology for conveying human speech, the human mind, and its
interaction with astronomical, natural and man-made events across
2 Julia Bolton Holloway
time and space.2 It seemed trustworthy. The Hebrew and Greek Bible
that followed the runic Phoenician alphabet was in the West translated
into Latin in Roman letters, and upon it Chronicles are usually palimp-
sested. In a historic cemetery one can find that a chronicle can be
inscribed in marble with birth and death dates, names, even accounts
of epidemics, in many languages and many scripts, including Biblical
quotations; but also that such records can be falsified.3 History can
write propaganda rather than fact by changing the orders of numbers
and letters, dates and names. Bede (†735), on the model of Eusebius’
Ecclesiastical History, wove together a history of the recently-
converted Anglo-Saxons, both Eusebius and Bede taking the Bible as
their model. Bede pretended to observe a logical chronology, to write
a Chronicle; however, in order to downplay the earlier Celtic Christian
presence in Britain, he marginalizes the Irish, Pictish and Scottish mis-
sionary saints, placing them later in his text, thus skewing chronology
in favour of ‘English’ (not British) propaganda.
Erich Auerbach, himself one of the golden apples shaken loose
from Hitler’s Germany, first to Turkey, then to America, observed the
differing sense of time, the Hebraic linearity, beginning with the
Creation, ending with the Apocalypse, as contrasted to the pagan
Hellenic world of the moment and of eternity, applying these differing
perceptions to Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac, Odysseus’ seizing of his
nurse’s throat lest she yell out his identity, clearly chronicled in the
scar of the childhood boar hunt. In another essay he noted Dante’s
palimpsesting use of ‘Figura’, the use of Biblical typology shadowed
in Dante’s own life.4 Fredric Jameson showed how these differing
modes were present in the exegetical reading of texts, the fourfold al-
legoresis, combining history and romance, fact and fancy (Jameson
1971: 9-17). Chronicles may be ‘romanced’, time be abused, particu-
larly where they migrate over boundaries, crossing frontiers, respond-
ing to new nationalistic exigencies. Prior to the Greeks’ pirating of the
Phoenicians’ alphabet, the Hellenic peoples had already composed
poetry orally (an earlier memory system), as in their great epic, the
Iliad, with its ‘Catalogue of Ships’. A shadow figure in the Odyssey,
an alter ego whom Odysseus lyingly says is himself, is a Phoenician
sailor (Holloway 1998: 15-30). James Joyce will still be playing that
game in Ulysses, and T. S. Eliot in The Waste Land.
The Matter of France

Two seemingly national epics, on closer examination, reveal them-
selves to be more Viking than British or French. The epic poem
Romancing the Chronicle 3
Beowulf, a Swedish/Danish oral tale, is transcribed into literacy by an

Anglo-Saxon monk at the time of the great Danish King Cnut who
reigned over England and Scandinavia, and it survives in London,
British Library, MS Cotton Vitellius A.xv. Likewise, the Chanson de
Roland, first transcribed in a manuscript written out in England (now
Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Digby 23),5 represents the appropria-
tion of the language, the religion and the history of the Christian
Franks by the recently pagan Viking Normans. Between a paragraph
and an epic, between Eginhard’s brief Chronicle reference to Roland,
Prefect of the Breton March, ‘et Hruodlandus Britannici limitis prae-
fectus’ (Celtic Brittany here ‘adjoining’ Scandinavian Normandy), and
his death in the Pyrenees at the hands of the Basques (the ‘Gascons’)
and the Chanson de Roland’s epic rendering of that event – at the
supposed hands of the Saracens – much has occurred to falsify history
and engender art. We know that Charlemagne’s relationships with the
Muslim world were not chauvinistic, the Saracens in Spain having
requested his aid in 777, and Haroun al-Rashid in 801 presenting to
Charlemagne the elephant from whose tusks priceless artefacts were
subsequently made. Let us, for now, compare and contrast the two
accounts, the first referring to horn, the second to ivory, using the
image from Homer, from Virgil (Odyssey XIX, 560-65; Aeneid VI,
893-900).
Gates of Horn and Ivory

Writing in Caesar’s style, Eginhard composed his Vita Karoli between
817 and 830. For 15 August in the year 778 he chronicled the
following:
In the midst of this vigorous and almost uninterrupted struggle with the
Saxons, he [Charlemagne] covered the frontier by garrisons at the
proper points, and marched over the Pyrenees into Spain at the head of
all the forces that he could muster. All the towns and castles that he
attacked surrendered, and up to the time of his homeward march he
sustained no loss whatsoever; but on his return through the Pyrenees he
had cause to rue the treachery of the Gascons. That region is well
adapted for ambuscades by reason of the thick forests that cover it and
as the army was advancing in the long line of march necessitated by the
narrowness of the road, the Gascons, who lay in ambush attacked the
rear of the baggage train and rear guard in charge of it, and hurled them
down to the very bottom of the valley. In the struggle that ensued, they
cut them off to a man; they then plundered the baggage, and dispersed
with all speed in every direction under cover of approaching night. The
lightness of their armour and the nature of the battle ground stood the
Gascons in good stead on this occasion, whereas the Franks fought at a

disadvantage in every respect, because of the weight of their armour
and the unevenness of the ground. Eggihard, the King’s steward; An-
selm, Count Palatine; and Roland, Governor of the March of Brittany,
with very many others, fell in this engagement. This ill turn could not
be avenged for the nonce, because the enemy scattered so widely after
carrying out their plan that not the least clue could be had to their
whereabouts.6
We next hear of the Chanson de Roland being sung by Taillefer, the

Norman minstrel, at the Battle of Hastings, in 1066. Then it is copied
in England in Anglo-Norman, after the Norman Conquest and their
rulers’ tyrannical text, the 1086 Doomsday Book.7 There will be
French versions of the poem (two of these being in Venice), and even
a Scandinavian one, and finally an Italian ‘naturalization’, with Boiar-
do, Ariosto, Calvino, and Sicilian carts, puppets and story tellers today
celebrating it down the centuries as it decomposes, like radioactive
materials, into multitudes of half-lives through time. In the great Re-
naissance epics produced in Ferrara concerning Charlemagne and the
Crusades we hear Italianate echoes of Norman names such as
Orlando, Tancredi and Ruggiero.
Bakhtin’s circle, reacting to Freudianism, have noted that the
Freudians failed to recognize that the unconscious, called by them the
‘unofficial’ consciousness, is structured like language.8 It is this
mythic, propagandistic, ‘arabesque’ part of the Chanson – its id/super
ego – that is its most artful, attractive and powerful aspect. By means
of the poem, the Normans made this ‘arabesque’ into their official
religio-political ideology, subverting the original pacifist ideals of
Christianity by chanting the Chanson throughout and across their vari-
ous spheres of influence: England, Iceland, Sicily and Jerusalem. It
‘romances’ the chronicle. Its stirring mendacious propaganda, trum-
peted by the ivory horn, the Olifant, possessed by the non-existent
Oliver, has – and still does – shape history, shattering linear reality
into shards. Joseph Bédier turned the Anglo-Norman poem, based on
the Germanic Chronicle, into the epic of ‘la douce France’ against
Prussia, against Germany, while Julien Benda and Simone Weil would
rightly counter such academically enforced nationalism.9
The Matter of Rome and the Matter of Florence

Brunetto Latino’s father worked as notary for the Franciscan Bishop
of Fiesole, Filippo di Perusgia, who had gone to the court of the By-
zantine Emperor Michael VIII Paleologus in 1272 (Davidsohn 1957:
III.211). There is a possibility that Brunetto was present in person at

the court of the Emperor Michael.10 Perhaps diplomats from Florence
had told there the story the Etruscan Fiesolans tell of their King
Dardanus founding Troy, which then founds Rome, which then founds
Florence, retold as well by Giovanni Villani in a universal History, in
which he embeds the Chronicle of Florence.11 Dante likewise shares
this tale, and he had been Brunetto Latino’s student. Undergirding
these histories and manuscripts, like the alphabet, was coinage, the
medium of exchange, and in particular Florence’s florin, arguably the
ancestor of the euro; this was the means by which the Florentine Guelf
bankers in the thirteenth century shored up the power of the Popes for
hiring armies against Ghibelline lords, before the Medici were even
heard of.
Following in the footsteps of the great German Jewish medieval
historian Robert Davidsohn of Florence, and working with his many-
volumed Storia di Firenze, one can check the references in the docu-
ments and manuscripts penned by Brunetto Latino, some of them
chronicles, some of them legal diplomas such as peace treaties
between Siena and Florence, between Arezzo and Florence, or other
texts such as the Libro di Montaperti inventorying the war pre-
parations against Siena, a book that would be captured at the Battle of
Montaperti by the Ghibelline Sienese and used for proclaiming
sentences of exile against the Florentine Guelfs named in it, including
Brunetto himself. Meanwhile Brunetto had left for Spain to seek help
for Florence from King Alfonso el Sabio, Brunetto’s entries in his
own hand in this chronicle breaking off at the date 15 July 1260, the
last reference to him being for 24 July 1260.12 The Battle of Monta-
perti of Florence against Siena took place on 4 September 1260 (cf.
Stopani 2003, 2004).
It was in Spain, in August 1260 when Alfonso was in Seville at
the Alcazar, that Brunetto could observe at first hand the King
creating his Estoria General, a vast history not only of Spain but of all
the then-known world, for Alfonso was seeking to be Holy Roman
Emperor of western Christendom, and needed the support of Floren-
ce’s Guelf bankers and their florins to achieve this objective. In their
diplomacy, Alfonso and Brunetto exchanged important manuscripts,
Alfonso’s Las Cantigas di Santa Maria coming to Florence’s comune,
Brunetto’s Li Livres dou Tresor and his translation of the Nico-
machean Ethics coming to Castile, now respectively in the Escorial
and Madrid’s Biblioteca Nacional. Later these texts would reach
Aragon as well. All of this is material that Brunetto would teach in
turn to his students Guido Cavalcante, Dante Alighieri and Francesco

da Barberino, upon his return from exile. In Twice Told Tale: Brunetto
Latino and Dante Alighieri, I demonstrate how Brunetto’s historical
and legal documents in Ciceronian Latin become transformed into
Dante’s Italian Romance poetry, the same flesh and blood personages
named in the documents now actually (albeit fictionally) speaking
from beyond the grave.
These texts play with the ‘Matter of Rome’, with the story of its
founding by Aeneas from Troy. A magnificent manuscript of Virgil’s
poetry in Florence’s Riccardian Library at the Medici Palace shows
every page of the Aeneid as planned to receive a miniature, a task left
incomplete when Agnolo Acciaiuoli fell out with the Medici in 1461,
following the 1458 marriage between the two families. In this text the
Trojans are ‘romanced’ into Byzantine Greeks with beards, the Rom-
ans into Renaissance Florentines who look as if they have just stepped
out of the 1459-1462 frescoes by Benozzo Gozzoli in the Medici
Palace’s chapel, the architecture of Troy being that of Florence, its
Medici Palace and its Baptistery, said by Villani to have been a temple
dedicated to the Roman God Mars. The Riccardian Virgil manuscript
is created with Cassandra’s foresight/hindsight that Constantinople is
at risk from the Turks, as Troy had been from the Greeks (cf. Lazzi
2004).
That Conquest of the new Troy had taken place in 1453. Thus the
Virgil Aeneid manuscript illuminations of 1458-1461 and the Benozzo
Gozzoli 1459-1462 frescoes, in the same building, show what the
Byzantines had lost, what the Medici had gained. The Benozzo
Gozzoli frescoes palimpsest the Visit of the Magi to the Christ Child
with the 1439 Council of Florence hosted by the Medici, showing the
same boy, the Medici princeling Lorenzo, who had been Ascanius in
the miniatures of the Aeneid, now grown from toddler to adolescent.
The landscape behind the Three Kings is that of Etruscan Fiesole and
its Monte Ceceri, then denuded of trees and used as a quarry for
building Florence from its pietra serena (Roetgen 1998: 335-57).
Thus we see that history writing has a rainbow spectrum that
goes from truth to lie or bold asseveration, and that it can ‘hypertext’
using every shade in-between. There can be the bare bones, ‘shopping
list’ account of social breakdown for the year 1137 in the reign of
King Stephen, as found in the Peterborough Chronicle: ‘þa was corn
daere and flesc and caese and butere, for nan ne was o þe land’ (‘then
was corn expensive, and meat and cheese and butter, for none was
available in the country’; quoted from Mossé 1952: 135), or (at the
opposite extreme) the Brunetto Latino manuscripts narrating the

conspiracies which would bring about the Sicilian Vespers, with the
reporting of secret conversations carried out in Franciscan disguise
between republicans and emperors and popes allied against Charles of
Anjou, King of Sicily and Jerusalem, or then again the novelistic
romances, with their tales of adultery and scandal-mongering at court
as told by minstrels, these forms functioning as do newspapers today,
as evidenced by the spectrum running from the Guardian to the Daily
Mirror.
The Matter of Britain

Similar ‘romancing’ occurs with the Matter of Britain, in the tales that
swirl about the figure of Arthur. These clusters are really the now
fragmented Welsh and Breton history, Celtic history, preserved first in
the face of the Anglo-Saxon-Danish invasions and their Beowulf, and
then the Norman conquest and their Chanson de Roland. In so doing
the Celts can employ the Matter of Rome, the story of its founding by
Aeneas from Troy, as in Sir Gawan and the Green Knight. These three
‘Matters’, of Britain, of France, of Rome, are universal across Europe,
even reaching the Jerusalem Kingdom of Outremer. They were to be
most poignantly re-narrated at the fall of Acre and the loss of the
Kingdom of Jerusalem, avatars of the fall of Camelot. Continental
Europe and the Kingdom of Jerusalem wove together both Celtic and
Anglo-Saxon chronicles and origin myths, for their history. Jaroslav
Folda notes how the Crusader manuscripts produced in St Jean d’Acre
between 1275-1291 illuminated in the same style, and even in the
same costumes and armour, the chronicles of the history of the
Kingdom of Jerusalem, Cicero’s Rhetoric, the Bible, Classical Greek
and Roman narrations, and Arthurian materials (Folda 1976, passim).
Alfonso el Sabio wrote the General estoria, Brunetto Latino his
Tesoro, Dante Alighieri his Commedia, Giovanni Villani his Cronaca
of Florence in this polysemous mode. As Adrienne Williams Boyarin
noted in her review of Julia Marvin’s Oldest Anglo-Norman Prose
Brut Chronicle, medieval historiography is exegetical (Boyarin 2008).
It overlays or palimpsests story upon story, history upon history. Just
as much as the Iliad begat the Aeneid which begat the Riccardian
Virgil codex which loops back upon itself in an ‘arabesque’ to Fiesole
as Troy, as Byzantium, as Florence.
The Matter of Ireland

The other Celtic History, of Ireland, remained far more insular, save
where Irish pilgrims retold their tales in Switzerland or in Italy. One
example is the large manuscript originally written out in the Mugello
and today in Florence’s Laurentian Library, in which the poem com-
posed by the learned Irish pilgrim St Donatus, who was elected
Bishop of Fiesole, describes St Bridget of Ireland drying her rain-
drenched cloak upon a sunbeam, sol radios, radius solis.13 The great
modern Irish poet, Seamus Heaney, as Maire Herbert has noted,
continues that whimsy in his Electric Light.14
Bede’s dates are 672-735. We learn from the margins of his text
that the magnificent learning of the Anglo-Saxons is largely derived
from the Irish scholars under whom they studied. The huge Codex
Amiatinus, produced by Coelfrith and Bede, today in Florence’s
Laurentian Library, uses the Hebraicum Psalter, the second, more
accurate, but less authorized version of Jerome’s two translations, and
which manifests the hallmarks of the great tradition of Irish
scholarship (McNamara 2001). Bernard Meehan, Keeper of the Book
of Kells at Trinity College Library in Dublin, recently sent our library,
the Mediatheca ‘Fioretta Mazzei’, the Catalogue of their latest
exhibition, Writing Irish History: The Four Masters and Their World.
The first Irish Annals were compiled in the sixth century and were
treasured up in manuscripts through the seventeenth century when
they were carefully transcribed and edited by Micheal Ó Cléirigh,
O.F.M., of Louvain, and his three colleagues, finally being printed in
the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Some of these documents are
annals or chronicles, while others present genealogies, still others
documents concerning laws, whilst yet others map places, both natural
and man-made. The Welsh Mabinogion are tales of a people who have
lost their place. The Irish still have theirs.
Romanced chronicles involve not only time but space, are both
histories and geographies. Before she became famous, Leslie Silko
spoke once at Harvard of how her Pueblo people based their stories in
their land, mapping their mesas, which they had not lost and which
had layers upon layers of meaning and memory (Silko 1981). A New
Zealand Maori came to the Mediatheca ‘Fioretta Mazzei’ in Florence
and recited his genealogy, starting from the Polynesian ship voyage to
those islands, moving through all of his ancestors and finally naming
himself.15 Indian-born Rudyard Kipling, in Puck of Pook’s Hill and
Rewards and Fairies, sought to map England’s history and geography
for his non-Indian-born children.
The Matter of Bulgaria

A young Bulgarian-American scholar, Tatiana Nikolova-Houston, has
researched the Historical and Archival Church Institute (HACI) in
Sofia for her 2008 doctoral thesis at the University of Texas at Austin.
The Christians in Bulgaria were subjected to the Ottoman Empire for
centuries. Like Michael Ó Cléirigh for Ireland, Paisii Hilandarski
wrote a History of the Slavic Bulgarians in 1762 by combing through
old sources and compiling a chronicle history from them, encouraging
his readers to interact further with his text. Hristo Temelski, Director
of HACI, remarked to Nikolova-Houston that one could write a thesis
on the marginalia of the manuscripts because they chronicle a margin-
alized people’s history, a ‘History from Below’, often being prefaced
with ‘We write to let others know’ (Nikolova-Houston 2008: 33, 131,
375). The danger of such histories from below, of such chronicling of
atrocities, is that they can elicit terrorism against terrorism, and so
become arguments for ‘ethnic cleansing’. But they can also, when
read with a Gandhian attitude of ‘non-violence’, and by both sides in
the conflict, contribute to the freeing of those unjustly enslaved.
The Fallacy of the Alphabet

Terry Jones, with a team of other scholars, recently investigated the
strange disappearance of Geoffrey Chaucer in 1400-1402 under the
‘control-freak’ Archbishop Thomas Arundel. They did so by chron-
icling the chronicles, discovering that these in England at first praised
Richard II, then disparaged him whilst lauding instead ‘Albion’s
Conqueror’, Henry IV, Henry Bolingbroke. Jones and his colleagues
also investigated contemporary French chronicles, finding that they
told a very different tale in which ‘mordre wil out’, or at least ‘truth
will out’ (Jones et al. 2006). Independently of Jones’ book, other
scholars, such as Nicholas Watson, Paul Strohm, and Rita Copeland,
have been discovering further evidence that all was not well in Eng-
land under King Henry IV (Watson 1995; Strohm 1997). Rigorous,
McCarthy-like inquisitions by Archbishop Arundel were being carried
out against Lollards, and particularly against women who dared to
translate or read the Bible in English. The process of editing the Julian
of Norwich manuscripts and studying their contexts has led to
reversing the accepted ordering of these texts. The Long Text, it
emerges, was first written twenty years after Julian’s deathbed vision,
when she was fifty, whereas her British Library Amherst Short Text
manuscript was indeed recorded, as her text itself proclaims, in 1413
when she was seventy. In this text Julian, or her Lincolnshire scribe,
excised all of her scriptural translations, apparently made directly

from the Hebrew into Middle English before the King James Bible,
and has her protest that she never meant to teach, an activity which
Arundel now forbade to all members of the laity, especially women,
under pain of death by burning at the stake, preceded by hanging,
drawing and quartering, and other such cruel and unusual punish-
ments, designed to terrorize the people into loyalty, into loyalty oaths,
since heresy and treason were now adjudged to be one and the same,
meriting both punishments at once. These executions were carried out
in public, in a theatre of cruelty and power, anticipating today’s
‘shock doctrine’.16 Jill Mann has argued in similar vein that the
ordering of the A, B and C manuscript texts of Piers Plowman in the
received, accepted opinion are likewise wrong, and that A is instead
not the first, but the last version, complying with Henry IV’s dra-
conian censorship (Mann 1995). In these instances we find that the
study of the chronicles aids us in the study of literature and of church
history, and we find also that the linearity of numbers and letters,
dates and alphabets, may not be as straightforward as they seem.
Conclusion
In all of these examples, ranging from legal documents to annals or
chronicles, to propagandistic poems and even to desperate annalistic
marginalia, we can discern varying levels of truth, sometimes com-
bined all at once, and ‘hypertexting’, as it were, from one to the other.
These include national histories (such as Bede’s Historia Ecclesias-
tica) and universal histories (such as Alfonso el Sabio’s Estoria
General) giving a ‘local habitation and a name’ to the Bible, while
mapping Europe’s culture. Dante used ‘I’ and ‘our’, for himself and
ourselves, as a universalizing particular. The chronicle become epic,
become romance, will much later become the novel, often with a
disclaimer (to avoid libel suits) to the effect that any resemblance to
living persons is merely accidental and not intended. The Icelandic
Sagas, meanwhile, written down in the book form taught to the
Vikings by their literate Christian Irish slaves, combine all of these:
history, geography, genealogy and laws. The novel is meant, like
Virgil’s Aeneid and Homer’s Odyssey, to be approached through ivory
gates. The chronicle is approached, rather, through gates of horn. Yet
are not horn and ivory organically one and the same, such as the chess
pieces made from Haroun al Raschid’s and Charlemagne’s beloved
elephant, or those fashioned from the tusks of walruses discovered on
Lewis and now in the British Museum, which seem be mythical and
fabulous artefacts, yet are as astonishly real as Hannibal’s elephants

which crossed the Alps?
Notes
1
Georges Jean, Writing: The Story of Alphabets and Scripts, trans. by Jenny Oates
(Thames and Hudson, London, 1992); Maria Giulia Amadasi, ‘The Alphabet: Origins
and Diffusion’, The City and the Book International Conference I: Alphabet and
Bible, Florence, 2001, http://www.florin.ms/aleph.html (accessed3/6/2010).
2
In Hebrew, Cyrillic and Glagolitic, letters are also numbers; see Nandriş (1965: 3-4);
Guardian, 24 June 2008, on the Odyssey: ‘Ancient writers from Plutarch to Heraclitus
have interpreted the seer’s words as a poetic description of a total solar eclipse, when
the moon completely blots out the sun. That view gained support in the 1920s, when
researchers calculated there had been a total solar eclipse over the Ionian Sea around
noon on 16 April 1178 BC. But historians have treated the interpretation with caution.
Marcelo Magnasco, head of mathematical physics at Rockefeller University in New
York and an Argentinian colleague, Constantino Baikouzis, scoured the classic text
for other celestial clues to whether the eclipse was real or not. Around a month before
the slaughter, there is a tentative reference to the planet Mercury being high in the sky
at dawn. A few days later, the Pleiades and Boötes constellations are both visible at
sunset. Six days before the massacre, when Odysseus arrives home, Venus is high in
the sky, and on the day of the fight there is a new moon. The researchers found only
one period matched the movement of the stars and planets described in the book –
setting the date of the massacre at 16 April 1178 BC’; cf. Baikouzis and Magnasco
(2008: 8823-28).
3
A burial in Florence’s Swiss-owned, so-called ‘English’ Cemetery is listed as of
‘Benjamin Edwards’. A descendant came seeking an ‘Edward Ingersoll’. The dates
tally. He had successfully lived and been buried abroad under an assumed name,
despite all the careful Swiss bureaucracy, a case of ‘auto identity theft’; while an
otherwise empty Greenland grave contains a rune stick naming a drowned Viking
woman settler whose corpse was not recovered.
4
Auerbach (1957: 1-20); on ‘Figura’, see Auerbach (1959: 11-76); on ‘Golden
Apples’, see Holloway (1998: 1-11), Curtius (1963), Kantorowicz (1997), Popper
(1945).
5
In the presentation at Cambridge slides were juxtaposed of the manuscript opening
page of Beowulf, London, British Library, Cotton MS Vitellius A.XV, and that of the
Song of Roland, Oxford, Bodleian Library MS Digby 23.
6
Eginhard, Vita Karoli Magni, trans. by Sidney Painter (University of Michigan
Press, Ann Arbor, 1960), pp. 33-34.
7
Camille (1985: 36, 47, note 46), makes this observation concerning the Doomsday
Book.
8
Medvedev and Bakhtin (1978: xiv), quoting Valentin N. Voloshinov and Mikhail
Bakhtin; Holloway (1998: 67-99); also at http://www.umilta.net/olifant.html (access-
ed 3/6/2010).
9
Joseph Bédier, ed., La Chanson de Roland, (1921; Piazza, Paris, 1937); Benda, La
trahison des clercs (1927; English translation Benda 1955); Weil (1977: 183).
10
Holloway (1993: 364-81), transcribing Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale VIII.1375
Tesoro account of the Sicilian Vespers; Dante Alighieri, La Commedia secondo
l’antica vulgata (Petrocchi 1975); Emperor of Culture: Alfonso X the Learned of

Castile and his Thirteenth-Century Renaissance, ed. by Robert I. Burns, S.J.
(University of Pennsylvania Press, Philadelphia, 1990). Brunetto signs himself as
‘Latinus’ in Latin and is called ‘Latino’ in the Tesoro and the Commedia in Italian.
11
Giovanni Villani, Cronica, I. 9-20 (Libro I, caps VII-XVII).
12
For the edition of the text, see Fabbri (2004). However, it is essential to examine the
manuscript itself in the Archivio di Stato di Firenze to see that much of it is written in
Brunetto Latino’s own hand.
13
Florence, Biblioteca Laurenziana Medicea, Mugellanus de Nemore 13.
14
Seamus Heaney (2001), modernizes St Donatus of Fiesole.
15
Recording created in the Mediatheca ‘Fioretta Mazzei’ See Peter Neville,
http://www.florin.ms/Maori1.mp3 (accessed 3/6/2010). The 1860 Waitangi Treaty
signed by his ancestor is now listed in the UNESCO ‘Memory of the World’ Register.
16
See Julian of Norwich, Showing of Love; Holloway (2008); Naomi Klein’s pre-
sentation is available at http://books.guardian.co.uk/video/2007/sep/07/naomiklein
(accessed: 3/6/2010).
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versity Press, 1930.
Chanson de Roland. Ed. Joseph Bedier. 1921; rpt. Piazza: Paris, 1937.
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Inferno. 3. Purgatorio. 4. Paradiso. Ed. Giorgio Petrocchi. Milan: Mondadori,
1975.
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St Donatus on St Bridget. Florence, Biblioteca Laurenziana Medicea, Mugellanus de
Nemore 13.
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––– (1959). ‘Figura’. In Scenes from the Drama of European Literature. Trans. Ralph
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––– (1998). ‘Golden Apples’; ‘Travelers’ Supreme Fictions: Homer and Plato’;
‘Apocalypse Palimpsest: The Song of Roland.’ In Jerusalem: Essays in
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tween the A and B Versions of Piers Plowman’. In The Yearbook of Langland
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George A. Panichas. New York: David McKay. Pp. 153-83.
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Apuleius through Time. New York: AMS Press.
THE IRISH CHRONICLES AND THE BRITISH TO ANGLO-SAXON
TRANSITION IN SEVENTH-CENTURY NORTHUMBRIA1
Nicholas Evans
Abstract
This article examines the Irish chronicle evidence relating to late
sixth- to eighth-century Northumbria and the northern Britons, in
order to understand what sources they included, as well as how the
Irish chronicles relate to the Welsh Annales Cambriae and Historia
Brittonum, to Bede’s works and to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle.
Through a detailed analysis of these texts, it is argued that the
common Irish chronicle material was independent of these Anglo-
Saxon sources, although the Clonmacnoise-group of Irish chronicles
does contain later additions based on Bede’s Historia ecclesiastica.
It is also proposed that the Irish chronicles do not derive from the
northern British annals which formed a common source for Annales
Cambriae and Historia Brittonum. Instead, they reflect a separate
Northumbrian, initially British but later Anglo-Saxon, stream of
recorded events reaching the ‘Iona Chronicle’; therefore, the Irish
chronicles provide potential evidence for Celtic influence on the
development of English chronicling.
One area of academic debate regarding the origins of Northumbria and

Anglo-Saxon England, in general, is the issue of how society changed
in culture and language from being British or Romano-British to
Anglo-Saxon. In the case of Northumbria this is fraught with diffi-
culty since, as with the rest of the British Isles for the period from 400
to the late seventh century, the contemporary written evidence is often
frustrating in terms of detail. When more texts do start to appear in the
late seventh century, it is difficult to distinguish what is reliable
information from later ideological distortion, so it is necessary to
consider every type of evidence, and come at issues from various
angles. One set of texts which could potentially shed light on this
period, as well as the development of annalistic writing in Britain, is
the Irish chronicle record, in which a number of events concerning the
16 Nicholas Evans
Britons and Anglo-Saxons from the late sixth century onwards are
described.
Three main textual sources, or connections, have been proposed
for these Irish chronicle items. One view is that they were derived
from a chronicle kept by the northern Britons, that is, by people
speaking the Brittonic branch of Celtic in northern England or
southern Scotland, and related to the early medieval Welsh texts
Annales Cambriae and Historia Brittonum.2 However, the exact cir-
cumstances by which items were included in the Irish chronicles have
not been made clear; while Kathleen Hughes argued that a north
British chronicle, continuing up to 780, was used as a source after-
wards (1980: 94-100), David Dumville has since shown that, at some
point after 911, Irish chronicle items were included in Annales Cam-
briae, and that the northern British source could have continued to the
late ninth century (Grabowski and Dumville 1984: 207-26). Dumville
has also suggested that the items about northern Britain in the latter
text may have come via a Clonmacnoise chronicle or directly from a
chronicle kept in northern Britain, leaving open exactly where that
was (2002: ix-x).
The second possibility is that these Irish chronicle items were
simply part of the ‘Iona Chronicle’ which has been shown to have
formed an important source to about 740 (Bannerman 1974: 9-26;
Evans forthcoming), while a third suggestion has been that the Anglo-
Saxon items share sources in common with English texts, such as
Bede’s Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum and the Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle. The connecting agent of this inter-relationship has been
considered to have been the Anglo-Saxon monk Ecgberht, with the
Irish chronicles either viewed as a source for Bede (Duncan 1981: 2,
20-23, 36) or the recipient of Anglo-Saxon material (Mc Carthy 2008:
141). This article is intended to not only draw attention to the potential
significance of the Irish chronicle items, but also to consider these
possible textual inter-relationships in order to understand the Irish
chronicles’ place in the development of chronicling among the
northern Britons and Anglo-Saxons of Northumbria.
The Irish chronicles are sets of annals which survive in manu-
scripts from the late eleventh century or later, but they derive from a
common source which ended in 911, commonly known as the ‘Chron-
icle of Ireland’,3 although not accepted by all scholars (Mac Niocaill
1975: 21-23; Mc Carthy 2008: 103-5, 233-34). Since most of the
Northumbrian and British items occur in two main textual groups: (I)
the Annals of Ulster (AU), written about AD 1500, and (II) the other
The Irish Chronicles and the British to Anglo-Saxon Transition 17
main group (known as the Clonmacnoise group) formed of (a) the

mid-fourteenth-century Annals of Tigernach (AT), (b) the seven-
teenth-century Chronicum Scotorum (CS), and to a lesser extent (c)
the Annals of Inisfallen (AI), written c.1092; it is clear that they were
present by 911. The following is a list of the British and Anglo-Saxon
items,4 which appear in these Irish chronicles from about AD 600 to
700:5
AT kl 106.3: Saxanaigh do dul cum credmi (The English came to the Faith)
CS [599].2: Saxones fidem accipiunt (The English receive the Faith)
AU [600].1: … et bellum Saxonum in quo uictus est Aedan (and the battle of
the English in which Áedán was defeated)
AT kl 107.2: Cath Saxanum la hAedan ubi cecidit Eanfraich frater Etalfraich
la Maeluma mac Baedan in quo uictus erat (The battle of the English,
[fought] by Áedán, where Eanfraich brother of Etalfraich was killed by
Máel Umai son of Báetán, in which he was defeated)
AU [613].3: Bellum Caire Legion ubi sancti occisi sunt et cecidit Solon m.
Conaen, rex Britanorum (The battle of Caer Legion, where holy men
were killed and Solon son of Conan, king of the Britons, fell)
AT kl 119.6: Cath Caire Legion ubí sancti occissi sunt, et cecidit Solon mac
Conain rex Bretanorum et Cetula rex cecidit. Etalfraidh uictor erat, qui
post statim obit (The battle of Caer Legion, where holy men were killed
and Solon son of Conan, king of the Britons, fell, and king Cetula fell.
Etalfraidh, who died immediately afterwards, was the victor)
AI [614].1: Cath Legeoin in quo ceciderunt multitudines sanctorum in Brit-
tania inter Fax & Brittan(n)os (The battle of Legion in Britain between
the [English] and Britons in which multitudes of holy men fell)
AU [622].4: Bellum Lindais (also AT kl 127.11) (The battle of Lindas)
AT kl 129.3: Babtismum Etum maic Elle, qui primus credidit in reghionibus

Saxonom (The baptism of Edwin son of Aelle, who first believed in the
regions of the English)
AT kl. 134.3: Bas Ailli ríg Saxan (The death of Aille, king of the English)
CS [630].3: Mors Ealla rí Saxan (The death of Ealla, king of the English)
AU [631].1: Bellum filii Ailli… (The battle of the son of Aelle)

AT kl 135.1: Cath iter Etuin maic Ailli reghis Saxonum, qui totum Britaniam
regnauit, in quo uictus est a Chon rege Britonum et Panta Saxano (The
battle [of] Edwin son of Aelle, king of the English, who ruled all of
18 Nicholas Evans
Britain, in which he was defeated by Chon, king of the Britons, and the
Englishman Penda)
AI 633.2: Mors…, et Etain, ríg Saxan (The death … and of Edwin, king of
the English)
AU [632].1: Bellum Cathloen regis Britonum, et Anfrith

AT kl 136.1: Cath la Cathlon et Anfraith qui decollatus est, in quo Osualt
mac Etalfraith uictor erat et Catlon, rex Britonum, cecidit (The battle
[fought] by Cadwallon and Eanfrith, who was beheaded, in which Os-
wald son of Æthelfrith was the victor and Cadwallon, king of the
Britons, fell)
AI 634.3: Guin Catluain (The slaying of Cadwallon)
AU [632].4: Combustio Bennchoir Moer in Britannia … (The burning of

Bangor the Great in Britain)
?AI [633].2: … et combustio canis priamí (and the burning of the foremost
dog?)6
AU [632].4: Insola Med Goet fundata est (AT kl 136.3: INis Metgoit; CS
[632].2: Inis Medgoit) (The island of Lindisfarne was founded)
AU [633].1: Bellum Iudris regis Britonum

AT kl 137.1: Cath Iudruis ríg Bretan qui in eo cecidit (The battle of Iudruis,
king of the Britons, who fell in it)
AT kl 138.3: Congregacio Saxonum contra Osualt (The coming together of

the English against Oswald)
AU [638].1: … et obsessio Etin (AT kl 141.1 and CS [637].1: Etain) (and the
seige of Etin)
AU [639].3: Bellum Osúaldi regis Saxonum

AT kl 142.4: Cath Osuailt contra Planta, in quo Osualt cecidit (The battle of
Oswald against Penda, in which Oswald fell)
AI 644.1: Quies Ósuailt regis Anglicorum, .i. Anglicus Sax interpre(tatur)
(Repose of Oswald, king of the English, that is, Anglicus means Sax
[English])
AU [642].4: Bellum Ossu contra Britones (The battle of Oswy against the
Britons)
AT kl 144.4: Cath Ossu eius nuinum et Britones (The battle of Oswy … and
Britons)
AU [650].1: Bellum Ossu fri Pante

AT kl 151.1: Cath Ossu fri Pante, in quo Panta com .xxx. reigibus cecidit
CS [647].1: Cath Ossa fria Pante in quo Panta cum xxx. regibus cecidit (The
battle of Oswy against Penda in which Penda, with thirty kings, fell)
AU [651].2: Iugulatio Oisseni m. Oisirgg (AT kl 152.3: Oissin maic Oiseirg;

CS [648].3: Oisine meic Oisirg) (The killing of Oisine son of Oiserg)
AU [656].2: Bellum Pante regis Saxonum. Ossu uictor erat.

AT kl 156.2: Cath Pante regis Saxorum, in quo ipse cum .xxx. reigibus
cecidit. Ossiu uictor erat fuit (The battle of Penda, king of the English,
in which he, with thirty kings, fell. Oswy was the victor)
AU [656].3: Bellum Annae (Battle of Anna)
AU [658].2: Mors Gureit regis Alo Cluathe (Death of Guret, king of

Dumbarton Rock)
AU [671].1: Mors Ossu filii Eitilbrith regis Saxonum

AT kl 171.1: Mors Ossu maic Etilbrith ríg Saxan. (CS [667.1])
AI [670].1: . . . et Ossualt, rí Saxan, quieuit in Christo (and Oswald, king of
the English, rested in Christ)
AU [672].6: … et combustio Bennchair Brittonum (and the burning of

Bangor of the Britons)
AT kl 172.6: … et combustio Benchair Britonum
AU [675].4: Mors filii Pante (AT kl 175.4: Panntea) (The death of the son of
Penda)
AU [680].4: Bellum Saxonum ubi cecidit Ailmine filius Ossu (AT kl 175.4:
Almuine; CS [676].5: Almune) (The battle of the English where
Ælfwine son of Oswy fell)
AU [685].2: Saxones Campum Bregh uastant et aeclesias plurimas in mense

Iuni (AT kl 185.2, CS [681].2) (The English lay waste the plain of
Brega and many churches in the month of June)
AU [686].1: Bellum Duin Nechtain uicisimo die mensis Maii, Sabbati die,
factum est, in quo Etfrith m. Ossu, rex Saxonum, .x.uº. anno regni sui
consummata magna cum caterua militum suorum interfectus est; et
combusit Tula Aman Duin Ollaigh (The battle of Dún Nechtain was
fought on 20 May, a Saturday; in it Ecgfrith son of Oswy, king of the
English, was killed, having completed the fifteenth year of his reign,
together with a great company of his soldiers; and he [Bridei or Tula?]
burnt [Tula?] Aman of Dún nOllaig)
AT kl 186.1: Cath Duin Nechtain .xxº. die mdsis Maii, sabbaiti die factum
est, in quo Ecsrith mac Osu, rex Saxonum, .x.uº. anno reighni sui con-
20 Nicholas Evans
summato, magna cum caterua militum suorum interfectus est la Bruidhi

mac Bili regis Fortrenn (AT adds ‘by Bridei son of Beli, king of
Fortriu’)
AI [685].1: Cath mór eter Cruithnechu (A great battle between the Picts)
AU [691].2: Theodorus, episcopus Brittaniae, quieuit (AT kl 191.2, CS

[687].2) (Theodore, bishop of Britain, rested)
AU [693].7: Bellum contra Pante.

CS [689].4: Cath contra filium Panteae (The battle against the son of Penda)
AU [694].6: Domnall m. Auin, rex Alo Cluathe, moritur (Domnall son of

Auen, king of Dumbarton Rock, dies)
AT kl 194.2: Domnall mc. Auin, rex Aloch Luaithe, moritur
AU [698].2: Bellum inter Saxones et Pictos ubi cecidit filius Bernith qui
dicebatur Brectrid (AT kl 198.2: Brechtraigh) (The battle between the
English and the Picts in which fell the son of Bernith who was called
Brectrid)
AU [699].1: Bouina strages in Saxonia (AT kl 199.2) (A murrain of cattle in

the land of the English)
As can be seen from this list, there are some events and details
found only in the Annals of Tigernach, Chronicum Scotorum and the
Annals of Inisfallen which are not present in the Annals of Ulster.
Since it has been demonstrated by Dumville (Grabowski and Dum-
ville 1984: 111-27; see also Evans 2010: 189-224) that a large number
of items were added to the Clonmacnoise-group texts after 911,
including large extracts from Bede’s Chronica Maiora and notices of
the deaths and accessions of supposed kings of Ireland by the mid-
eleventh century, it would be very plausible that many of the Anglo-
Saxon details and items were similarly additions to the common
source. When these items are studied this does indeed seem to be the
case, as many were probably derived from Bede’s Historia eccle-
siastica gentis Anglorum (HE), although some could be derived from
the common source.
The strongest indication that Bede’s Historia ecclesiastica was a
source is found in two items, in the annals probably originally for AD
650 and 655 (see above, items corresponding to AU [650].1 and AU
[656].2), both of which state that Penda (the king of Mercia) died
along with thirty kings. This idea is likely to have been derived from
Bede’s account of the battle of Winwæd, where it states that duces
regii xxx, qui ad auxilium uenerant, pene omnes interfecti (of the
thirty royal ealdormen who had come to Penda’s help nearly all were
killed; HE III.24; 290-91). The fact that the Clonmacnoise-group-only
text duplicates Penda’s death and the thirty-king statement enhances
the likelihood that these are late additions made to pre-existing items
because an interpolator did not know which item was the battle of
Winwæd.
Given the evidence for the use of the Historia ecclesiastica as a
source for such narrative details, other extra material found only in the
Clonmacnoise-group becomes more explicable. Some of this additi-
onal text consists of extra names which have often been viewed as
authentic, but are actually highly suspicious, as they often also appear
in Bede’s text in different contexts, particularly in his narrative of
mid-seventh-century political history. In the item describing a battle
between Dál Riata and the Anglo-Saxons (probably the battle of
Degsastan), AT kl 107.2 states that a certain Eanfraith frater Etal-
fraich was killed in this battle. This does not correspond exactly with
the Theodbald frater Aedilfridi, who, according to Bede, died in the
same event (HE I.34; 116), but Eanfraich could be the Eanfrith who
reigned in Bernicia 633-34 after the death of Edwin according to HE
(III.1; 212-15). However, this does not explain why Theodbald was
not used instead.
Another case is the Annals of Tigernach account of the battle of
Chester where it uniquely has et Cetula rex cecidit. Etalfraidh uictor
erat, qui post statim obít (and king Cetula fell. Etalfraidh, who died
immediately afterwards, was the victor; AT kl 119.6). Cetula has been
suggested to have been Cadfan of northern Wales (Bannerman 1974:
24 n.11), but orthographically it is more likely to be a form of
Caedualla, Bede’s form for the British king Cadwallon who fought
against the Northumbrians in 633-34 (HE III.1; 212-15): extrapolating
from the form Etalfraidh in the same item compared to Bede’s
Aedilfrid, the e in Cetula could have been originally ae and the t
originally d, giving *Caedula, which could easily have come from
Caedualla if ll and ua were later reduced to l and u.
The statement that Æthelfrith was the victor but died soon after
could also have been based on Bede (Chadwick 1963: 175), who gave
an account of the battle in HE (II.2; 140–44) and stated in HE II.20
(202-3) that Æthelfrith’s successor Edwin ruled for seventeen years
until 633, which would date his killing of Æthelfrith to c.616. As
Chadwick recognised (1963: 177-78; see also Charles-Edwards 2006:
I, 128, n.1), the Irish chronicle item would have had a date close to
22 Nicholas Evans
this, although, when the chronological development of the Irish

chronicles is reconstructed (Evans 2010: 184-88, 240-41) the original
date for the annal with this item (calculating by working backwards
from later annals) would be AD 614 or 615, rather than 616.7 How-
ever, at the time when the Annals of Tigernach item was included, in
the Clonmacnoise-group common source, later changes made it closer
to 616; by the time of the ‘Chronicle of Ireland’ ending in AD 911 the
item would have been in 615 or 616 and, because after 911 the Clon-
macnoise-group common source lost the kalend represented by AU
[635], the battle would have been datable to 616 or 617. As a result,
the Clonmacnoise-group common source would have dated the item to
615-617, making the statement that Æthelfrith died immediately after
more appropriate than in the original chronology.
Another probable instance of borrowing occurs in accounts of the
Battle of Fid Eoin between Dál Riata and the Cruithin in Ulster,
present in extra material, some of which could derive from early
sources.8 The Clonmacnoise-group texts have Oisiric mac Albruit (in
AT: Osiricc mac Albirit in Chronicum Scotorum), rígdomna Saxan
(worthy of the Saxon kingship), who is likely to be derived from the
names in the phrase filius patrui eius Aelfrici uocabulo Osric, ‘the son
of his [Edwin’s] uncle Ælfric whose name was Osric’ (the brief
successor of Edwin in the kingship of Deira in 633-34) in Bede’s HE
(III.1; 212). Regarding the name Albruit, Whitley Stokes suggested
that this represented Ælfric (Dumville 1996: 122). This is supported
by the Irish chronicles’ use elsewhere of b in Anglo-Saxon names to
replace Old English medial and final f (Moisl 1983: 109; Dumville
1996: 123), while the similarity of written c and t could account for
the final consonant, as this is such a common orthographical variation
(ibid.: 122). The u in the final consonant in the Annals of Tigernach
could be an addition to show that the preceding consonant group was
not palatalised in Gaelic (in contrast, the first i in the Annals of
Tigernach’s Oisiric was added to mark palatalisation), which is paral-
leled by the form Etalfraidh in AT kl 119.6 compared to Bede’s Aedil-
frid. The need to identify Osric as an Anglo-Saxon in an Irish battle
and as a member of a royal family rather than a king in Northumbria
himself (because Edwin ruled at this time) explains why the title
rígdomna Saxan would be included here but not in the other instances
where such English names were added. This leaves the reason why
Anglo-Saxon names such as Osric son of Ælfric were used out of con-
text in the Clonmacnoise group – perhaps there was a desire to make
the chronicle more Anglo-Saxon or recognisable to those familiar with
Bede’s text – but the repeated re-use of the names of people involved
in Northumbrian history c.633-34 cannot be chance; it indicates the
use of Bede’s text or something very similar, and renders it unlikely
that these people represent reliable contemporary evidence.
It is, therefore, necessary to be very sceptical about other ad-
ditional Anglo-Saxon and British information included only in the
Clonmacnoise group, especially the statement in AT kl 106.3, CS
[599].2 that the Saxons accepted Christianity, which is positioned
around the time of the Augustinian mission to the English, and the
item in AT kl 129.3 explaining that Edwin was the first who believed
in the regions of the Saxons. These ostensibly contradictory state-
ments could have been added retrospectively, drawing on Bede’s
portrayal of the importance of Augustine and Edwin in the conversion
of the Anglo-Saxons in either Books I and II of HE, Chronica Minora
(Jones 1977: 611) or his Chronica Maiora §531 and §541 (Jones
1980: 523, 525).
The other main feature unique to the Clonmacnoise-group is the
specification that a certain king died in battle where AU often only has
bellum plus a name.9 For instance, AT kl 142.4 (probably describing
the battle of Maserfelth in 642) has Cath Osuailt contra Planta, in quo
Osualt cecidit where AU [639].3 has only Bellum Osúaldi, regis Saxo-
num. In these cases, while the extra information may be correct, the
repeated appearance of such statements, sometimes giving the name
again, indicates that they are additions made to clarify pre-existing
items, which is a common concern apparent in unique Clonmacnoise-
group material elsewhere (Dumville 1984: 119-21, 123-24).
Overall then, while the Clonmacnoise group may retain some
unique early text from the ‘Chronicle of Ireland’, it contains additional
items and details many of which were probably derived from Bede’s
Historia ecclesiastica. Therefore, the material shared by AU and the
Clonmacnoise-group, still a considerable corpus, should be the focus
of any study of the Irish chronicle items on the Anglo-Saxons and
northern Britons.
It is well established that a major source for the ‘Chronicle of
Ireland’ for the section before about 740 was a chronicle written at the
monastery of Iona (Bannerman 1974: 9-26), but the possibility that
items from other texts were included or that the ‘Iona Chronicle’ itself
had text added from other chronicles requires further study. Deter-
mining this is difficult given the brevity of the annalistic form of Irish
chronicle items, but the main methods are to consider items’ vocab-
ulary, phraseology and interests, as well as to identify whether there
24 Nicholas Evans
are substantial differences between the Anglo-Saxon and British items

and those of elsewhere. A complicating factor is that some British or
Anglo-Saxon items could have been written in Iona while others came
from a different source. Given the significant role Iona had in the
ecclesiastical life of northern Britain in the same period it seems likely
that events throughout much of that region would have been of in-
terest to the community of Iona. In terms of the Anglo-Saxons, Iona’s
influence would have been greatest in the period from about 634/5 to
664 when Iona provided bishops of Lindisfarne in Northumbria, but
even after the Synod of Whitby in 664 (when Northumbria, but not
Iona, adopted the Dionysian method of calculating Easter), there was
considerable interaction, including two visits to Northumbria by
Adomnán, abbot of Iona (Sharpe 1995: 46-48) from 680-705. Also,
Aldfrith, the king of Northumbria from 685 to 705, had previously
been a monk at Iona (Fraser 2009: 216-18). Connections between Iona
and the northern Britons are more difficult to perceive, although
Thomas Charles-Edwards (2000: 306-8) has proposed that British
clergy may have worked with Iona in southern Pictland and in
Northumbria in the early seventh century, noting that the abbacy of
Iona was held by a Briton, Virgno, from 605 to 623. Therefore, it is
quite plausible that an ‘Iona Chronicle’ included contemporary events
among the northern Anglo-Saxons and Britons or that the Iona
chroniclers gained access to annals or other historical texts produced
by these peoples.
It has been proposed that one avenue by which chronicle material
was exchanged was via the Northumbrian monk Ecgberht, who,
according to Bede HE III.27 and V.22 (312-13, 552-55), had been a
member of the Irish monastery of Rathmelsigi before going to Iona in
716 to change their Easter reckoning and staying there until his death
in 729. A. A. M. Duncan (1981: 23, 33-36) has suggested that Bede
(and also the writers of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle) gained access to
Irish chronicle material through Ecgberht, and used it for accounts of
the battle of Degsastan in 603, of battles of the Northumbrians against
the Picts in 685, 698 and 711 (1981: 14-19), as well as of other events
involving Iona and Ireland (1981: 6-7, 11, 13-14). This proposition,
not accepted most scholars, for instance J. M. Wallace-Hadrill (1988:
169) in the case of 685, formed part of a wider innovative but largely
untenable argument that Ecgberht had a major role in providing Bede
with information about northern Britain, in creating the Pictish king-
lists (on which, see Evans 2008: 194-96), and in the writing of
contemporary ‘Iona Chronicle’ items in the 710s and 720s.
Duncan’s theory regarding the Irish chronicles is weakened by

his preference for the readings of the Annals of Inisfallen and Annals
of Tigernach. The Annals of Inisfallen, even though it is our earliest
surviving Irish chronicle, is a highly abbreviated and rewritten text
(mainly based on the Clonmacnoise-group), with extra items being
added from other sources (Grabowski and Dumville 1984: 1-93, for a
lengthy study), so its unique readings, unless supported by other Irish
chronicles, are unlikely to have come from the ‘Chronicle of Ireland’.
Also, as has been argued above, much of the Anglo-Saxon material in
the Annals of Tigernach was based on Bede’s writings, and so cannot
be used to indicate that Bede used an Irish chronicle. Duncan’s ar-
gument concerning the Irish chronicles as a source for Bede and the
Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (ASC), especially for the unique northern
material primarily in manuscripts D and E, fails to convince because
the battles are described very differently in terms of emphasis and
details. For instance, the names Degsastan and Nechtanesmere given
by Bede for the battles of 603 and 685 are not found in the Irish
chronicles; in fact the latter was called the battle of Dún Nechtáin in
the ‘Chronicle of Ireland’ and presumably the ‘Iona Chronicle’ (see
above, AU [685].1, AT kl. 186.1). Similarly the accounts of the
conflict between the Picts and Northumbrians around the western part
of the Firth of Forth are quite different:
AU 711.3: Strages Pictorum in Campo Manonn apud Saxones ubi Finnguine
filius Deile Roith inmatura morte iacuit (A slaughter of the Picts in the
plain of Manau by the English, where Findguine son of Deile Roith lay
dead before his time)
AT 711.3: Strages Pictorum in Campo Manand apud Saxonés, uibi
Findgaíne mac Deleroith inmatura morte iacuit.
Bede, HE V.24 (Colgrave and Mynors 1969: 566): Anno DCCXI Berctfrid
praefectus cum Pictis pugnauit (In the year 711 Berctfrid, praefectus,
fought against the Picts)
ASC B 710 (also C and later hand in A): Her Beorhtfrið ealdormann feaht
wið Peohtas … (In this year Ealdorman Berctfrid fought against the
Picts)
ASC E 710: (also D) … 7 þam ilcan geare feoht Beorhtfrið ealdorman wið
Pyhtas betwix Hæfe 7 Cære … (and that same year Ealdorman Berctfrid
fought against the Picts between the Avon and the Carron)
The Irish chronicle items do not mention the leader of the North-
umbrians, and they make it clear that the Picts were defeated, whereas
the Anglo-Saxon accounts do not explain the outcome clearly. The
detail in manuscripts D and E of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, that the
26 Nicholas Evans
battle was fought between the Avon and Carron rivers (Duncan 1981:
15), is part of the extra material about the northern English which is
characteristic of these versions (Irvine 2004: xxxvi-xl, lv-lviii). The
area between these rivers is likely to correspond to at least part of the
plain of Manau, but such specific locations for battles using rivers are
not found in the surviving items on the Irish annals in this period, even
when greater details on battle locations become more common in the
720s and 730s. Duncan has argued (1981: 15-16) that the name-forms
for the rivers are not Old English, and has suggested that they were
misread from an Irish text, but even if this is the case, the source is
unlikely to have been the ‘Iona Chronicle’. Therefore, despite there
being some correspondence in terms of the details given (such as that
Bede and the Irish chronicles both date the battle of Nechtanesmere to
20 May), and the possibility that Bede and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle
could have relied occasionally on non-Anglo-Saxon sources, there is
little evidence that they used the ‘Iona Chronicle’ either directly or
through Ecgberht.
The other hypothesis proposed concerning Ecgberht, advanced
very briefly by Mc Carthy (2008: 141), is that after 725 he included
‘an Anglo-Saxon chronicle’ extending from 611 to 718 in the Irish
annals. Apart from Bannerman’s study (1974: 21-24), the only
evidence cited in support of this is the correspondence of these items
with activities associated by Mc Carthy with Ecgberht at 608 and
c.612, as well as the end date which is close to the time of Ecgberht’s
proposed alterations. Notwithstanding the high likelihood that the
changes that the Anglo-Saxon items are supposed to correspond to in
terms of their coverage can be explained differently or can be shown
to have taken place in Ireland after 740 (Evans 2010: 115-44), the
correspondence (which would also work for the British items covering
c.613-722) could be chance, especially as the items exclude events
involving contact with Picts or Gaels (including the battle of
Degsastan c.603) and a further Anglo-Saxon event, the imprisonment
of King Ceolwulf, occurs at AU 731.3, AT 731.3. Also, as Bannerman
(1974: 21-24) noted, Iona chroniclers would have been interested
enough in Northumbria events throughout most of this period to
record them themselves. However, this does not negate the possibility
that a source from Northumbria (or the northern Britons) at some
point was used to add Anglo-Saxon (or British) items to the Irish
chronicles, but the items themselves need to be studied in detail to
settle the issue.
In another study (Evans forthcoming) I argue that many of the

Anglo-Saxon and British items from 660 to 800 were derived from the
same sources as the Pictish and Dál Riata items: from the ‘Iona
Chronicle’ up to about 740, and after then probably from two sources
sending news to chroniclers in Ireland, one perhaps from Iona an-
nalists, the other probably from the Picts. In the period from 660 to
740 there are a considerable number of English events recorded (for a
list see Bannerman 1974: 21-23), but some of the vocabulary used
(Saxonia in AU [699].1, AT [699].2; apud, iacuit and campum in AU
711.3, AT 711.3; the present passive constringitur in AU 731.3, AT
731.3) is characteristic of the ‘Iona Chronicle’, making it likely that
they were contemporary items in that text. This does not prove that all
Anglo-Saxon items were part of this source, but it does indicate that it
is unnecessary to propose the use of another chronicle source.
From 660 onwards the northern Britons receive less attention
(Evans forthcoming), perhaps partly due to the conquest of their
kingdoms except for that centred on Dumbarton Rock by the River
Clyde west of modern Glasgow. Apart from some obituary notices of
kings of Dumbarton (and of others who may be Britons), northern
Britons are found mainly in battle items fighting against the Gaels of
Dál Riata or the Picts. They do not appear in internal conflicts or
struggles against the Anglo-Saxons, and only Pictish or Gaelic protag-
onists are mentioned. The only detailed British item is the burning of
Dumbarton Rock dated to the first of January in AU 780.1, but this
detail could have been included because it was memorable, or be the
result of a scribal error whereby the kalends of January notation which
introduces each annal was transferred to the account of the first event.
Hughes (1980: 72 n.37, 96) noticed a close correspondence in the
dates of the last items about the northern Britons between the Irish
chronicles, in which they end at 780 (with a gap until 870), and
Annales Cambriae where the last item for northern Britain is at AC
[777].10 This is striking, but the combustio item about Dumbarton
Rock in AU 780.1 is typical of this section of the ‘Chronicle of
Ireland’ (Hughes: 1972: 126), so this could have been a contemporary
item included in Ireland. Also, the previous northern British item was
a generation earlier in AT 752.2, and the very low number of items
about affairs in northern Britain in general in the Irish chronicles from
the 780s to the 860s, both demonstrate that the year 780 in the Irish
chronicles should not be given such significance. There is, therefore,
no strong reason to support Kathleen Hughes’s view (Hughes 1980:
72, 96-100) that a chronicle maintained among the northern Britons
28 Nicholas Evans
(also a source for Annales Cambriae and Historia Brittonum) was

responsible for the eighth-century items, although the items before
700 display fewer ‘Iona Chronicle’ characteristics, and, therefore,
could also come from different sources.
It is in this revised context that we should re-examine the earlier
Anglo-Saxon and British items in the seventh-century section of the
Irish chronicles, which scholars have similarly derived from a source
among the northern Britons, and considered to have shared a common
early source with material in Annales Cambriae and Historia Brit-
tonum (Chadwick: 1963: 173-76, 177-78; Hughes 1980: 71-72, 94-95;
Dumville 1986: 15). It has long been recognised that these texts offer
an interesting counterpoint to Anglo-Saxon sources for the late sixth
to late seventh century, but generally they have been perceived to be
less reliable. The work of Dumville (1986; 1994) in particular has
shown that Historia Brittonum, written 829/30 (Dumville 1994: 406),
was very much a product combined and altered to fit the concerns of
the writer in early ninth-century Gwynedd, so while it included earlier
sources, it is difficult to distinguish these from later changes. The
same is true to some extent of Annales Cambriae, a chronicle com-
piled 950x88 (Dumville 1994: 406) from sources including a set of St
David’s annals starting in the late eighth century (Hughes 1980: 68-
69, 86-88), a (probably Clonmacnoise-group) Irish chronicle (Gra-
bowski and Dumville 1984: 209-26), as well as northern British
annals. Alex Woolf’s plausible theory (2004) that Cadwallon, the king
who fought the Northumbrians in 633-34, was a ruler of the northern
Britons rather than of Gwynedd, as he is portrayed in Historia Brit-
tonum, is one example of how these texts reflected later, rather than
sixth- or seventh-century concerns.
Regardless of its reliability, the general view has been that this
late-sixth- and seventh-century material was written somewhere a-
mong the northern Britons. Kenneth Jackson (1963: 52-62) favoured
the view that the family of Urien of Rheged was responsible for
writing notes on events in the early seventh century, and that these
were continued and compiled as a chronicle, including other annals or
Easter table notes, by British churchmen, being written in Whithorn or
Glasgow in the eighth century. Kathleen Hughes (1980: 71-72, 91-96,
98-100) held a similar, if more cautious, view, that notes and me-
moranda from northern Britain formed the basis for this section of
Historia Brittonum and Annales Cambriae (as well as being used in
the Irish chronicles), and that Annales Cambriae was continued in
British-controlled territory in the eighth century to about [777] at
least, after which it was turned into the form of annals. Dividing the
process into two stages, Hughes suggested that the ‘chronicle’ created
from these notes and memoranda which formed the basis of Annales
Cambriae could have been drawn up in Glasgow, because of Pictish
and Strathclyde obits, but that the earlier source memoranda on the
northern Britons and Anglo-Saxons, used for both Historia Brittonum
and this chronicle in Annales Cambriae, came from further south
(Hughes 1980: 71-72). The evidence for a Strathclyde provenance in
the eighth century was a series of obits for kings of Dumbarton, and a
continued interest in the Picts and Northumbria (Hughes 1980: 95-97,
98-99). There was also the idea that the interest in Northumbria from a
British perspective and the occasional references to Pictish events
could be explained by a location somewhere outside or on the fringes
of Northumbrian control, with the implication that the items in the
Irish chronicles were also produced in this area.
However, Dumville (1977/8: 466-67) has convincingly argued
that Historia Brittonum and Annales Cambriae shared a common an-
nalistic written source for their northern British material. That this is
the case is indicated by how Historia Brittonum dealt with events
surrounding the death of king Penda of Mercia, who died in the battle
of Winwaed in 655 according to Bede (Historia HE III.24: 288-91),
compared to Annales Cambriae:
AC MS. A [656]: Strages Gaii campi (The slaughter of the field of Gaius)
AC MS. A [657]: Pantha occisio (The killing of Penda)
AC MS. A [658]: Osguid venit et praedam duxit (Oswy came and took
plunder)
HB §64-65: Et ipse [Oswy son of Æthelfrith] occidit Pantha in campo Gai, et
nunc facta est strages Gai campi, et reges Brittonum interfecti sunt, qui
exierant cum rege Pantha in expeditione usque ad urbem quae vocatur
Iudeu.
Tunc reddidit Osguid omnes divitias quae erant cum eo in urbe usque
in manu Pendae, et Penda distribuit ea regibus Brittonum, id est Atbret
Iudeu. Solus autem Catgabail, rex Guenedotae regionis, cum exercitu
suo evasit de nocte consurgens: quapropter vocatus est Catgabail Cat-
guommed.
(And he [Oswy son of Æthelfrith] killed Penda on the field of Gaius,
and now the slaughter of Gaius’s field was done, and the kings of the
Britons, who had gone with king Penda on the campaign to the city
which is called Iudeu, were killed.
Then Oswy delivered all the riches which he had in the city into the
hand of Penda, and Penda distibuted it to the kings of the Britons, that
is ‘the distribution of Iudeu’. However, only Cadafael, king of the
30 Nicholas Evans
region of Gwynedd, with his army escaped, by rising in the night; and
so he was called ‘Cadafael Battle Dodger’)
As Dumville has argued (1986: 16), the account in Historia Brit-

tonum has re-arranged the annalistic account to create a new narrative
perhaps influenced by Bede’s account of Penda’s depredations and the
payoffs made by Oswy before Winwaed, which also makes a state-
ment about the king of Gwynedd. However, Historia Brittonum’s
verbal similarities with the briefer Annales Cambriae account, repeat-
ing campus Gai unnecessarily, in the second case in the same order as
Annales Cambriae, and the use in both texts of occidere as the verb to
indicate that Penda (written as Pantha) was killed, indicate that the
writer of Historia Brittonum used a text similar to Annales Cambriae,
although it is unclear whether details unique to one of these texts were
also derived from the same ancestor source.
The exact form and contents of this ancestor chronicle are
difficult to reconstruct given the possibility of later change during
transmission, but one consequence of regarding the source of Historia
Brittonum and Annales Cambriae to be annalistic is that there be-
comes less reason to postulate, as Hughes did, a later stage in the
development of Annales Cambriae in which further northern British
and Pictish chronicle items were added to the pre-existing northern
British material. The eighth-century and later northern British and
Pictish items could simply have been part of a continuation of the
same annals which were a source for Historia Brittonum and Annales
Cambriae (but not, as has been argued above, for the Irish chronicles
in the eighth century).
Given the fact that all the versions of Annales Cambriae survive
only in later manuscripts, and that they derive from a common source
written in the period 950x88, the notation introducing each annal,
which in all Latin versions of Annales Cambriae is annus, does not
necessarily reflect the original framework of the northern British
chronicle (see Dumville 2004 for a study of the A-text). These annals
could each have begun the year with the kalends (first) of January,
like the Irish chronicles. This is indicated by AC [630] in manuscript
A (but not in the later and more corrupt manuscripts B and C), which
begins its account of the battle of Meicen in which King Edwin of
Northumbria died with Kalendis januariis. The first of January is
unlikely to be the correct date for the battle, since Bede HE II.20 (202-
3) dates it to the 12 October 633. It is possible that the Annales
Cambriae account of this battle was derived from a source using the
kalends of January to introduce each year, that in this single case the
notation was mistakenly copied when annus notation was introduced

or when the northern British chronicle was included in the St David’s
annals, and that later scribes assumed that the kalends of January re-
ferred to the battle of Meicen. If this proposal is accepted, it indicates
that this northern British chronicle shared a common basic chrono-
logical notation with the Irish chronicles at some point before they
gained their current Annales Cambriae notation, either as a chronicle
or as marginal notes in Easter tables.
Given this potential similarity, and the existence of items in the
Irish chronicles describing some of the same events as Annales Cam-
briae and Historia Brittonum, it is worthwhile to consider the inter-
relationship of these texts to discern whether they share a common
source. The issue is complicated because Annales Cambriae added
many items, potentially including British events, from an Irish chron-
icle in the period 911x54, so shared items do not necessarily come
from an early common source. However, the appearance in Historia
Brittonum of many of the events in Annales Cambriae allows us to
identify the existence of some of these items at a stage before the
inclusion of Irish annalistic material.
The events described in Historia Brittonum, Annales Cambriae
and the Irish chronicles are confined to important battles involving
Northumbria in the mid-seventh century:
AU [631].1: Bellum filii Ailli .…
AT kl 135.1: Cath iter Etuin maic Ailli reghis Saxonum, qui totum Britaniam
regnauit, in quo uictus est a Chon rege Britonum et Panta Saxano.
AI [633].2: Mors … , et Etain, ríg Saxan ; …
AC [630]: Kalendis januariis Gueith Meicen; et ibi interfectus est Etguin
cum duobus filiis suis; Catguollaun autem victor fuit (On the kalends of
January the battle of Meicen; and there Edwin was killed with his two
sons; Cadwallon, however, was the victor)
HB §61: Osfird et Edfird. Duo filii Edguin erant, et cum ipso corruerunt in
bello Meicen, et de origine illius numquam iteratum est regnum, quia
non evasit unus de genere illius de isto bello, sed interfectu omnes sunt
cum illo ab exercitu Catguollauni, regis Guendotae regionis (Osfrid
and Eadfrid. They were two sons of Edwin, and they fell with him at
the battle of Meicen, and the kingdom was never revived from their
stock, because none of their line escaped from that battle, rather they
were all killed with him by the army of Cadwallon, king of the country
of the Venedotians)
AU [632].1: Bellum Cathloen regis Britonum, et Anfrith

AT kl 136.1: Cath la Cathlon et Anfraith qui decollatus est, in quo Osualt
mac Etalfraith uictor erat et Catlon, rex Britonum, cecidit
32 Nicholas Evans
AI [634].3: Guin Catluain

AC [631]: Bellum Cantscaul in quo Catguollaun corruit (The battle of
Cantscaul, in which Cadwallon fell)
HB §64: Ipse [Oswald son of Æthelfrith] occidit Catgublaun, regem Guene-
dotae regionis, in bello Catscaul, cum magna clade exercitus sui (He
killed Cadwallon, king of the country of the Venedotians, at the battle
of Catscaul, with a great slaughter of his army)
AU [639].3: Bellum Osúaldi regis Saxonum

AT kl 142.4: Cath Osuailt contra Planta, in quo Osualt cecidit
AI [644].1: Quies Ósuailt regis Anglicorum, .i. Anglicus Sax interpre(tatur)
AC [644]: Bellum Cocboy in quo Oswald rex Nordorum et Eoba rex
Merciorum corruerunt (The battle of Cocboy, in which Oswald, king of
the Northerners, and Eobba, king of the Mercians, fell)
HB §65: Ipse [Penda son of Pybba] primus seperavit regnum Merciorum a
regno Nordorum, et Onnan, regem Easteranglorum, et sanctam Oswal-
dum, regem Nordorum, occidit per dolum. Ipse fecit bellum Cocboy, in
quo cecidit Eoua, filius Pippa, frater ejus, rex Merciorum, et Oswald,
rex Nordorum, et ipse victor fuit per diabolicam artem. Non erat
baptizatus et nunquam Deo credidit (He was the first to separate the
kingdom of the Mercians from the kingdom of the Northerners, and he
killed Anna, king of the East Angles, and holy Oswald, king of the
Northerners, through treachery. He fought the battle of Cocboy, in
which fell Eobba son of Pybba, his brother, king of the Mercians, and
Oswald, king of the Northerners, and he was victorious through the arts
of the Devil; for he was not baptised, and never believed in God)11
When these items are compared, the correspondence is not

striking: the Irish chronicles lack the British names of the battles of
Meicen (AU 631.1, AT kl 135.1, AC [630], HB §61), Cantscaul (AU
632.1, AT kl 136.1, AC [631], HB §64), Cocboy (AU 639.3, AT kl
142.4, AC [644], HB §65) and campus Gaii (AU 650.1, AT kl 151.1,
AC [656–8], HB §64) (although, as has been noted above, it is not
clear that Penda died there, since Historia Brittonum has re-ordered
events), and neither the statement in Annales Cambriae and Historia
Brittonum that two of Edwin’s sons died at Meicen, nor the death of
the Mercian Eoua/Eoba in the battle of Cocboy, are found in the Irish
chronicles. Also, while the Irish chronicles (AU 632.1, AT kl 136.1)
mention Eanfrith (presumably because he died in the battle recorded),
Annales Cambriae and Historia Brittonum do not, with their common
material (perhaps represented by AC [631]: Bellum Cantscaul in quo
Catguollaun corruit) only indicating that Cadwallon died. In this case,
if the extra text in the Annals of Tigernach, which states that Oswald
won and Cadwallon died, and the Annals of Inisfallen’s version, which
could reflect the same changes, are viewed as later altered versions,
then it is quite possible that the item’s form in the Annals of Ulster
(Bellum Cathloen regis Britonum, et Anfrith) is earlier, and does not
refer to the battle in which Cadwallon died. Alternatively, two events
could have become conflated. It is not clear that the Irish chronicles
are describing the same battle as Annales Cambriae and Historia Brit-
tonum, which, given the other differences which exist, highlights the
degree to which the two groups of sources vary in content in these
items.
However, one similarity can be found in the orthography of the
Mercian king Penda. In the Irish chronicles his name is often spelt as
Panta or Pante, with an a in the first syllable, which is similar to the
Pantha found in Annales Cambriae and Historia Brittonum where a
northern British chronicle is the source, as is found in AU [656].2, AT
kl 156.2, AC [657], Historia Brittonum §65 on Penda’s death. In
contrast, in Historia Brittonum, where the material has come from
Anglo-Saxon genealogies and king-lists, there is generally an e instead
in the first syllable (for example Historia Brittonum §65 has Penda
filius Pybba regnavit x annis). The shared use of Pant- is notable, but
it is uncertain how significant this feature is; it could simply reflect a
common contemporary spelling of his name.
One of the main reasons why scholars consider the Irish chron-
icles to have had a common ancestor related to Historia Brittonum and
Annales Cambriae is that they share a number of items on the Britons
and Anglo-Saxons, but when this is studied in more detail, the corres-
pondence is not that striking. Not including those already discussed,
there are items in both sets of texts, but not clearly in both Historia
Brittonum and Annales Cambriae, on the battle of Chester (AC [613],
AU [613].3, AT kl 119.6, AI [614].1, and perhaps HB §56, attached to
the King Arthur tradition), regarding a certain British king called
Iudris (AC [632], AU 633.1, AT kl 137.1), who could have been a
king in northern Wales (Chadwick 1932: 148; Bannerman 1974: 24-
25), and the battle of Dún Nechtain (HB §57, AU [686].1, AT kl
186.1, AI [685].1).
The account of the battle of Chester in Annales Cambriae (manu-
script A reads Gueith Cair Legion, et ibi cecidit Selim filii Cinan) is
similar to the Irish chronicles in its British focus, since it gives the
Welsh name, Caer Legion, for the site and states that the northern
Welsh king Selim son of Cinan fell there (manuscript B also has a
Iago son of Beli die there, probably mistakenly). However, this does
not necessarily show that they share a common source; Bede stated in
34 Nicholas Evans
HE II.2 (140) that the place was called Caer Legion by the Britons, so
the name could have been well known. Also the Irish chronicles have
Solon, a contracted form of Solomon, which would be unlikely for a
Gaelic speaker to produce from Old Welsh Selim (Chadwick 1963:
174), although the form Solomon in the common source could be
hypothesised. The Irish chronicles add the details that sancti, ‘holy
men’, were killed there, and that Selim was rex Britanorum, so the
correspondence in contents is not very close. Given the lack of any
details in Annales Cambriae’s account of the battle not found in the
Irish chronicles, it is quite possible that this is one of the items in
Annales Cambriae included (or augmented if the battle name was in
the common source with Historia Brittonum) from an Irish chronicle
in the tenth century.
Similarly, the appearance of the death of Iudris in both source-
groups is striking, but the Irish chronicles, best represented by AU
[633].1, have Bellum Iudris regis Britonum, whereas Annales Cam-
briae manuscript A (and B) describe it as a killing: jugulatio Iudris.
Again, the correspondence is not sufficient to prove a common textual
source, although the possibility cannot be discounted.
The account of the battle of Nechtansmere is particularly dif-
ferent, with Historia Brittonum calling it the battle of Lin Garan rather
than the Irish chronicles’ Dún Nechtain, naming the victor as Birdei,
close to Pictish Bridei, rather than the Annals of Tigernach’s Bruidhi
mac Bili, and each adds details not found in the other. It is clear that
Historia Brittonum and the Irish chronicles are based on different
sources in this instance, although it is uncertain whether the compiler
of Historia Brittonum was reliant here on the northern British annals
also underlying Annales Cambriae or on another source.
There are also considerable differences in coverage, the most
important being that some events are not found in the Irish annals,
including the baptism of Edwin by the Briton Rhun son of Urbgen
(AC [626], HB §63), the death or expulsion of Ceretic of Elmet (AC
[616], HB §63), as well as the obituary notices of other little-known
northern figures like Dunaut (AC [595]), Guurci and Peretur (AC
[580]), who appear in tenth-century north-British pedigrees (Woolf
2004: 22-23). Similarly, events in the Irish chronicles are not recorded
elsewhere, such as the seige of Etin (AU [638].1, AT kl 141.1 and CS
[637].1), possibly Edinburgh, a battle of Oswy against the Britons
found in AU [642].4 and AT kl 144.4, and a battle by Oswy against
Penda in the early 650s (AU [650].1, AT kl 151.1, CS [647].1).
Another example could be the bellum Lindais in AU 622.4, AT kl
127.11, but this could be Linnuis (on this word, see Jackson 1945-46:
47-48), Lindsey, possibly adopted in Historia Brittonum §56 as a
battle of that name attributed to King Arthur (with the differences
being accounted for by -nd- and -nn- variation in Gaelic, and u being
replaced by open a).
The overall degree of overlap in contents is not particularly high;
some of the common British and Anglo-Saxon items could be ex-
plained by the use of a Clonmacnoise-group text in Annales Cambriae
in the tenth century, but the importance of most other contemporary
events could account for the others, as the shared focus on Anglo-
Saxon events also narrated by Bede indicates. The significance of
British events such as the death of Iudris is difficult for us to evaluate
because we do not have sources like Bede’s Historia ecclesiastica to
provide us with even a retrospectively produced context. However, the
weight of evidence indicates the existence of two sources in the
seventh century. That underlying Annales Cambriae and Historia
Brittonum could have been kept in British controlled areas, although
the evidence is not conclusive since British writers could have been
active in land controlled by the English. The other source, found in the
Irish chronicles, could have been written in territory which passed
from British to Anglo-Saxon hands in the seventh century, although
there are a couple of indications that these Irish chronicle items were
part of the ‘Iona Chronicle’, rather than being later additions from a
separate text, as Hughes (1980: 98) proposed.
One notable feature of the Irish chronicle items is the
orthography of the British king Cadwallon, which differs in the two
groups of sources. It is spelt Cathloen (AU [632].1), Cathlon, Catlon
(both in AT kl 136.1, Achon in AT kl 135.1 could be a mangled
version of this name), and Catluain (AI [634].3, probably from a
nominative Catluan) in the Irish annals, retaining the final n, but
lacking the second syllable found in Annales Cambriae (Catguollaun
in AC [629], [630], [631]) and Historia Brittonum (Catguollaunus in
§61, Catgublaun in §64). In English sources, Bede (for instance in HE
II.20; 202) rendered it as Caedualla, perhaps because a later king of
Wessex had this name, and manuscript E of the Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle (Irvine 2004: 24-25) has the form Cadwallan in the annal
for [633], which is closer to the Brittonic form, perhaps indicating that
manuscript E contains information derived from an early source (the
Ceadwala later in the same item could be derived from Bede). In both
sources the second medial syllable was retained, as is found in the
Welsh texts.
36 Nicholas Evans
However, a form very similar to that in the Irish chronicles,

Catlon, is found in Adomnán’s ‘Life of St Columba’ I.1 (Anderson
and Anderson 1961: 14-17). Adomnán states that he was told the story
of Columba’s miracle before the battle of Denisesburn, in which
Cadwallon died, by a previous Iona abbot, Faílbe, who had been
present when king Oswald related the tale. Since Adomnán mentions
that his information was transmitted orally, he was probably not using
the ‘Iona Chronicle’, but it is possible that Adomnán’s account pro-
vided the basis for the Irish chronicle’s item. This makes it possible
that the name-form of Cadwallon was altered during oral transmission
in Iona, and as a result the second syllable was lost, with the final
vowel becoming o. The relationship between Adomnán’s Vita sancti
Columbae and the Irish chronicles is not clear – there are considerable
differences as well as similarities between them (Herbert 1988: 21-23)
– but the presence of the form Catlon in the Irish chronicle items
indicates that they were similarly affected by the spoken form of the
name, which presumably was remembered because it was part of a
significant Columban miracle tale. This raises the possibility that the
Anglo-Saxon items were included later in Iona from oral tradition, but
this can be discounted because the other items are not known to be
linked to similar miracles, and so probably would have been forgotten
if they were not written down by contemporaries. Therefore, the
evidence of name-forms makes it more likely that the Cadwallon item
was a relatively early inclusion in the chronicle at Iona, where the
Gaelic version of the name was known, rather than being a later
addition in which the item was simply copied verbatim.
The other main reason for an Iona derivation for these items is
that they share some of the vocabulary of other events recorded in the
Irish annals in the same period. Since the Irish chronicles are so
formulaic, this could be significant. In some of the north British items
the word contra, ‘against’,12 or its equivalent Gaelic preposition, fri, is
used (in AU [650].1, AT kl 151.1, CS [647].1). Contra is not common
in the Irish chronicles; it is found in Irish battles in the same contexts,
but only on three occasions in the late seventh and early eighth
century.13 It also occurs in AU 794.6, but this is an item describing a
hosting campaign, rather than a battle. If the distribution of this
word’s usage is significant, it indicates that these items could have
been included in an Irish chronicle in the late seventh or early eighth
century. Moreover, although the Anglo-Saxon and British items in the
seventh century are unusual because they are even briefer than most
equivalent Irish entries,14 and the use of a personal name after bellum,
rather than a place, is rare, this feature is occasionally found for Gaelic
battles in the late seventh century, particularly in the 670s.15 Since the
British and Anglo-Saxon items are generally earlier than this, it is
possible that they provided the template for the later Gaelic items, or
that the British and English items were included in the later seventh
century (the last Anglo-Saxon item with these features records an
event of AD 692), but it is at least likely that these items were in-
corporated in the ‘Iona Chronicle’ by the late seventh or early eighth
century.
Where the source for these items came from is more difficult to
determine. Many of the Northumbrian items, including those on the
battles against the Picts and Dál Riata, the foundation of Lindisfarne,
the obits of Iona’s bishops of Lindisfarne, and of kings of North-
umbria would have been of obvious interest to Iona’s clerics. This
leaves a series of items from the Battle of Caer Legion in 614/615 to
perhaps as late as the battle against Æthelred king of Mercia in 692
which show not only an interest in Northumbria, but also Mercia,
British areas, a battle in which the king of East Anglia, Anna, died
(AU [656].3), and perhaps a battle in Lindsey – a more southerly
distribution.
The account in the Irish annals of the battle of Caer Legion in the
610s also indicates a British perspective. It is probable that the battle
was viewed in markedly different ways depending on whether some-
one was British or Anglo-Saxon. It seems unlikely that an Anglo-
Saxon would have been as interested in naming the British king killed
in this battle, or have described the ecclesiastics killed as sancti. Also,
the Anglo-Saxons in Northumbria would have been pagan for at least
another decade after the battle took place, although the slaughter of
many clerics would have been an event to remember, since at the time
this could have indicated the power of Æthelfrith and the superiority
of paganism over Christianity.16 For British Christians such a perspec-
tive on the battle is unlikely to have held much appeal, so a Briton
probably wrote the Irish chronicle item. The only other item which is
clearly focussed on the British is the death of Iudris c.635; the form of
this item, with bellum plus a personal name, is the same as many of
the Anglo-Saxon items, making it more likely that it was part of the
same source or process.
Apart from this the geographical distribution of these Irish chron-
icle items is strikingly similar to that which might be expected from
someone living in what became Northumbria: there is a focus on
events involving Cadwallon, who was probably a north British king
38 Nicholas Evans
(Woolf 2004: 5-24), as well as kings of Northumbria, Mercia and East

Anglia, whose influence in the north of England is indicated by the
success of its king Rædwald in aiding Edwin in his usurpation of the
Northumbrian throne in 616 (recounted in Bede HE II.12; 176-81).
The explanation for all these factors is that the chronicle or chronicle
source was kept in Northumbria, at least initially by British Christians.
However, the number of events in the area beyond the Humber, such
as the battle in Lindsey and the battle involving Iudris, may indicate
that the source(s) was from an area south of Lindisfarne, but these
notices could just represent Northumbrian activities which would have
been of interest throughout the realm, so they may not be indicative of
origin. The importance of the role of Britons in the missionary activity
of Iona in the seventh century has recently been stressed by Charles-
Edwards (2000: 306-8). It is perhaps the case that their role in the
conversion of Northumbria was under-emphasised by Bede, who used
the British as a contrast to the Irish who had attempted to evangelise
the English. Certainly, the fact that Lindisfarne is called by its British
form, Insola Med Goet, in the Irish chronicle item on its foundation
indicates that there was a strong British speaking presence, perhaps
including clerics in the area (Charles-Edwards 2000: 314). It may be
that Gaelic clerics initially worked more in concert with British clergy
than has often been supposed, so Britons were perhaps more signi-
ficant than Bede or his contemporaries understood or would want to
recognise given the replacement of British with Anglo-Saxon culture.
Overall, then, it seems likely that there were three sources under-
lying our Celtic chronicle texts for British and Anglo-Saxon events:
one, surviving in the Welsh sources, Historia Brittonum and Annales
Cambriae, which continued to be maintained in British hands, perhaps
in English-controlled Northumbria or in a British-controlled area like
Strathclyde; a second, including events, such as the battle of Degsas-
tan and probably the seige of Etin, recorded in the ‘Iona Chronicle’
without intermediaries in Northumbria; and a third, also present in the
‘Iona Chronicle’ by the late seventh or early eighth century, which
came via Anglo-Saxon or British writers in Northumbria. In the early
seventh century, to the 630s if the Bellum Iudris provides the last
strong indication of a British interest, the latter strand was probably
the result of interaction between Iona clerics and northern Britons, but
by the end of the century, perhaps by the 670s based on the lack of
references to Britons, presumably Anglo-Saxons (or Britons who had
become Anglicised) in Northumbria produced the source.
How exactly this material was transmitted to Iona is uncertain; it

could have been as a single text in the late seventh or eighth centuries,
but it may reflect contemporary links, whereby clerics in Northumbria
passed on written notices of events to Iona or Lindisfarne which later
went to Iona. This involved an Anglo-Saxon dominated viewpoint
from the mid-seventh century onwards, which may or may not reflect
a change from British to Anglo-Saxon correspondents. This certainly
provides support for the view that a cultural transition had taken place
in that period, but it also indicates that chronicling activity, or at least
the production of brief accounts of events, continued. This evidence,
therefore, offers the tantalising possibility that British clerics and the
Iona community could have played a role, by stimulating the record-
ing of events and by providing models, in the development of Anglo-
Saxon chronicling in Northumbria.
Notes
1
My thanks go to Henry Gough-Cooper for allowing me to see drafts of his editions
of manuscripts B and C which will each be published by the Welsh Academic Press
separately in the Studies in Medieval Wales series, to Alex Woolf for his generosity in
pointing Gough-Cooper in my direction and in providing me with his article on
Cadwallon, and to Alaric Hall for organising the Leeds IMC 2007 session in which I
gave a paper that formed the basis for this article.
2
For editions of Annales Cambriae, see Morris (1980) and Dumville (2002), and for
the Historia Brittonum, see Faral (1929), Morris (1980) and Dumville (1985).
3
Hughes (1972: 101), Grabowski and Dumville (1984: 53-56), Evans (2010: 67-72).
4
Excluded from this list are Gaelic bishops of Lindisfarne (Aedán in AU [651].1, AT
kl 152.1, CS [648].2; Finnán in AU [660].1, AT kl 160.1, CS [656].1), and battles
involving Gaels in Argyll (apart from Degsastan) at AU [642].1, AT kl 144.2, CS
[640].1, AI [643], duplicated at AU [686].2, AT kl 186.6, CS [682].1 (the battle of
Strathcarron); AU [678].3, AT kl 178.4 (the battle of Tiriu); and items involving
Britones (who could be the Cruithne in Ulster) in Ireland (although the killing of a
Muirmin, probably Welsh Merfyn, in AU [682].2 straight after one of these battles,
but not present in the versions in AT kl 182.3, CS [678].2, could indicate some
involvement of Britons from Britain). All these items are very likely to have come
from an ‘Iona Chronicle’ or have been written in Ireland. Multiple texts and
translations are not included where they do not differ substantially, or are simple
differences, like Gaelic cath for bellum, ‘battle’, Gaelic mac for filius, or rí for rex,
‘king’. Potentially significant orthographical readings are given in brackets. E-
caudata has been transcribed as ae, and the Tironian nota meaning ‘and’ as et rather
than Gaelic ocus. The translations are taken from the editions or Charles-Edwards
(2006: I), but often with minor alterations.
5
Other Irish chronicles, with less certain textual inter-relationships, have not been
included. The dates of items are those given in the editions of the Annals of Ulster,
Chronicum Scotorum and Annals of Inisfallen. These are placed in square brackets
when they do not accord with the real AD date of that annal. The Annals of Tigernach
40 Nicholas Evans
were not given editorial dates, and the edition is unreliable, so, before the true AD
date of annals can be identified for certain in 710 (which is kl 210), each annal is
identified by the number of kalends (introduced by ‘kl’) from the start of the third
fragment beginning c.AD 488 (see Evans 2010: 235-43 for a concordance of annals
and the AD dates of annals). Also, the text given here was based on digital images of
the manuscript Oxford, Bodleian Library, Rawlinson B 488, from http://image.
ox.ac.uk. Each annal is then subdivided into items (by adding for instance .1, .2)
comprising a sense unit, usually for each event, or for multiple events joined syn-
tactically.
6
This item is likely to be a mangled version of that found in AU.
7
This dating issue may be complicated by Charles-Edwards’s theory (2006: 55-58)
that the Irish annals to c.642 were derived from a compilation of an Iona and another
Columban source, which could account for a chronological dislocation involving the
Anglo-Saxon items c.642. However, the chronological difference is not as great as
Charles-Edwards proposed (Evans 2010: 186-87), so the theory is not proven, al-
though it deserves further study.
8
CS 629.1, AT kl 133.1; see Dumville (1996) for a discussion of these items.
9
In AT kl 107.2, kl 119.6, kl 135.1, kl 137.1, kl 142.2, kl 151.1, kl 156.2.
10
Dates from Annales Cambriae will follow Morris (1980), but will be placed in
square brackets to show that the real dates of the annals are uncertain.
11
See above for the Annales Cambriae and Historia Brittonum accounts of events
surrounding the death of Penda and the strages campii Gaii, as well as AU [656].2,
AT kl 156.2.
12
AU [642].4 (AT kl 144.4 has the probably mangled eius nuinum et instead); AU
[693].8, CS [689].4. Contra also is found in AT kl 138.3 (Congregacio Saxonum
contra Osualt).
13
It occurs in the same contexts in: AU [679].3, AT kl 179.3, CS [675].2; AU [682].2,
AT kl 182.3, CS [678].2; AU [709].2.
14
In the seventh century not many battles involving the Picts and Dál Riata in Britain
are recorded. Some of those that are included are very brief, but the account of the
battle of Dún Nechtain (AU [686].1, AT kl 186.1, AI [685].1) is more descriptive
compared to other contemporary battle items.
15
The use of a personal name instead of a place, area or population group in items
(where this is probably from the ‘Chronicle of Ireland’) is found from AD 431-800 in
AU [524]; AU [672].1, AT kl 172.1, CS [668].1; AU [675].1, CS [671].1; AU
[679].3, CS [675].2; and AU [699].2. Other possible instances are: AU [647].3, AU
[656].1, AU 790.7.
16
Bede, HE, II.2; 140-43. The battle could, therefore, have been an obstacle to the
conversion of Northumbria, and an embarrassment for Anglo-Saxon Christians in
Northumbria, because their kings had built up their power with a battle in which
Christians had been massacred. This would have made re-interpretation of the event
desirable by Anglo-Saxon Christians. The obvious way to do this, while maintaining
that it was a great victory, was to portray it as divine punishment for British sins. How
and when exactly this process came about is uncertain, although the negative view
was fully developed by the time that Bede wrote his account of the battle of Chester.
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London: Thomas Nelson, 1961; rev. edn. Oxford Medieval Texts. Oxford:
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–––. A Collaborative Edition. Vol. 5. MS. C. Ed. Katherine O’Brien O’Keeffe. Cam-
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–––. A Collaborative Edition. Vol.7. MS. E. Ed. Susan Irvine. Cambridge: D. S.
Brewer, 2004.
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to as AU). Ed. and trans. Seán Mac Airt and Gearóid Mac Niocaill. Dublin:
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–––. Chronica Maiora. Ed. C.W. Jones. Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina
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–––. Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum. Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the
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and page numbers of the translation, in roman.
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Chronicum Scotorum. A Chronicle of Irish Affairs from the Earliest Times to A.D.
1135; with a supplement containing the events from 1141 to 1150 (Sometimes
referred to as CS). Ed. and trans. William M. Hennessy. London: Rolls Series,
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Historia Brittonum. Ed. and trans. John Morris. History from the Sources 8. Nennius.
British History and The Welsh Annals. London: Phillimore, 1980. Pp. 9-43, 50-
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–––. In La Légende arthurienne. Études et documents. 3 vols. Ed. E. Faral. Paris:

Honoré Champion, 1929.
–––. In The Historia Brittonum. 3. The ‘Vatican’ Recension. Ed. David N. Dumville.
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––– (1986). ‘The Historical Value of Historia Brittonum.’ Arthurian Literature 6: 1-
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––– (1994). ‘Historia Brittonum: an Insular History from the Carolingian Age.’ In
Scharer and Scheibelreiter (1994). Pp. 406-34.
––– (1996). ‘Cath Fedo Euin.’ Scottish Gaelic Studies 17: 114-27.
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Century.’ Peritia 2: 103-26.
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Penguin Books.
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Historical Commentary. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Woolf, Alex (2004). ‘Caedualla Rex Brittonum and the Passing of the Old North.’
Northern History 41: 5-24.
EVIDENCE FROM ABSENCE:
OMISSION AND INCLUSION IN EARLY MEDIEVAL ANNALS
Sally Lamb
Abstract
The reader of any set of early medieval annals is likely to be struck
not only by the topics which the author included but also by his
omissions. Why did the writer of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle tell us
about the profusion of snakes in Sussex in 774, but not mention the
outcome of the Battle of Otford? This paper considers some of the
possible methodological approaches to analysing omission as evi-
dence in early medieval annals. The main focus is on eighth- and
ninth-century sections of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, along with
some consideration of contemporary Carolingian annals. It is argued
that it is sometimes possible to appreciate the sources of information
available to annalists through careful consideration of their texts.
This can allow an assessment of whether the omission of apparently
important information was deliberate or merely resulted from
ignorance, which in turn can illuminate the underlying strategies of
the text.
The annal for the year 776 in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle has several
aspects that might strike the reader as rather odd. It reads, ‘Here a red
sign of Christ appeared in the heavens after the sun’s settings. And
that year the Mercians and the men of Kent fought at Otford; and
snakes extraordinary were seen in the land of the South Saxons’.1 Red
signs of Christ in the heavens are all very well, but why did the annal
record only the time of day, and not the date itself, or even the time of
year? Battles such as the fighting recorded in this year at Otford
between the Mercians and the men of Kent were standard fare for
early medieval annals, but why does this particular annal not record
the outcome? And why was this southern English annalist interested in
a sudden profusion of snakes in Sussex, yet has no reference to the
expulsion of the King of Northumbria from his own kingdom two
years earlier? In many ways, the omissions in this annal seem to be at
least as interesting as the actual content, and there is a strong argu-
46 Sally Lamb
ment for saying that it is only by looking at both the information

included by the annalist and the omissions that we can come to a full
understanding of the message that the author was trying to convey.
The study of early medieval annals has, not surprisingly, tended
to concentrate on the content of the text, since content is by its very
nature far more accessible and reliable than that which is not present.
Nevertheless, it is still worth trying to explore something of the
reverse, namely the absences and omissions in early medieval annals,
what they can reveal about the texts, and how we can get round some
of the problems of interpretation. Naturally, all texts contain numerous
omissions based on the interests, knowledge, and purpose of the
author, but absence appears to be a more striking feature of annals
than of most other genres used for writing history in the early Middle
Ages. Before looking in detail at some examples of how omission
could function as part of the message of annals, it is helpful to give a
brief sketch of the main characteristics of annals as a genre, and what
this implies for the study of omission and absence in this group of
texts.
Early medieval annals are well known, indeed some might say
notorious, for their terse, often apparently ‘objective’ language.2
While the annal genre does not seem to have been prescriptive, it is
clear that the conventions of annalistic writing encouraged a laconic
style that included many omissions; omissions not only of rhetoric and
authorial opinion, but also of overt historical explanation and
interpretation. Where writers of prose histories such as Einhard and
Nithard followed in the classical traditions of rhetoric and argument
set out by Cicero and his fellow orators, the usually anonymous
annalists of the early Middle Ages tended to prefer unadorned and
disconnected statements of fact, with little in the way of an obvious
narrative structure. In addition, the historians of the classical world
and late antiquity wrote not only to preserve the record of human
events, but to explain them, a tradition of interpretative historical
writing which by the early Middle Ages was used alongside biblical
traditions to write history in terms of God’s guiding purpose in human
affairs (see Angenendt 1994). By contrast, annals are characterised by
a deceptively simple literary style, uncoloured by rhetorical language
and a strong authorial presence, and frequently lacking any obvious
causal explanation. These tendencies are most apparent in the so-
called ‘minor annals’ in which the majority of entries contain only one
or two sentences, yet they are also found in the most developed of the
Evidence from Absence 47
‘major’ annals. The ninth-century Frankish Annals of St-Bertin, for

example, is composed of yearly entries which generally extend to
several pages in modern editions, yet explicit authorial opinion and
historical interpretation remain comparatively rare compared to other
contemporary accounts of the same events.
At the simplest level, omission in annals can help to ascertain
something about an anonymous annalist. This can act as a counterpart
to the information actually included in the text. Authorial choice of
material has always been one of the most important means of
exploring the ideology of a text. It does not require any great in-depth
analysis, for example, to suggest that the account of the reign of
Alfred the Great in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle focuses almost
exclusively on royal activities against the vikings because their
authors wished to glorify the king and to gloss over any internal
difficulties. Exactly the same technique is found in the Royal Frankish
Annals for Charlemagne’s reign, where the existence of a later revised
version reveals that some of the difficulties and setbacks faced by the
king were not included in the original text (Davis 1971). Omission can
also reveal much about geographical location and the scope of the
annalist(s). This is clear, for example, in the differences between the
Annals of St-Bertin and the Annals of Fulda, the western and eastern
continuations of the Royal Frankish Annals respectively.
These examples show how both inclusion and omission can re-
veal something about an annal text, but they deal only with a
relatively superficial level of interpretation. Influences from literary
theory and the ‘linguistic turn’ have increasingly caused attention to
be paid to the deeper levels of narrative structure and ideology in early
medieval annals. Historians have consequently begun to view annals
as coherent texts with their own narratives and ideologies, not simply
as collections of individual accounts. Valuable recent scholarship has
highlighted the importance of subtle textual strategies for constructing
ideology and narrative, strategies, whether created by the structure of
an individual annal or group of annals, through the juxtaposition and
contrast of apparently unrelated events, or by the repetition of a part-
icular word, phrase or idea. Interpretation can even be implicit in the
anno Domini or anno mundi dating system itself.3 Another common
strategy is found in the frequent reports of natural phenomena and
disasters found in early medieval annals, which often function within
the structure of the texts as a way of drawing attention to the role
played by God in the events of the world and to imply divine
48 Sally Lamb
displeasure (cf. Foot 2005)). Such narrative strategies may seem

opaque, but it is worth remembering that this would not necessarily
have been the case for an educated early medieval audience,
conditioned through the rich layers of allegory and typology found in
biblical exegesis to highly interpretative patterns of thought. The over-
all effect can be to communicate a distinct ideology and interpretation,
while at the same time remaining within the conventions and
structures of annalistic writing, allowing what Herwig Wolfram has
described as telling ‘lies with the truth’ (Wolfram 1994). Some annals
do still lack historical interpretation, explicit or not, but the absence of
obvious explanations does not necessarily mean that the annalist made
no effort to convey his interpretation of events.
It should be clear from this discussion that omission was an im-
portant aspect of this subtle communication of narrative and ideology,
and that the study of the omissions as well as the inclusions in a text
can therefore be a valuable way of uncovering the narratives and
interpretation that underlie what can misleadingly appear to be the
disjointed statements of early medieval annals. It is within this frame-
work that ‘evidence from absence’ will primarily be discussed here.
The aim is not to provide any comprehensive answers to the problems
of interpreting absence and omission in early medieval annals, but
rather to raise some interesting questions and suggest ways in which
they might be tackled. Three examples from eighth- and ninth-century
England and Francia are used to illustrate some of the possible meth-
odological approaches towards omission in early medieval annals,
although it is hoped that many of these approaches would be equally
applicable to a wider range of texts and periods.
The first example is the mysterious annal for 776 in the Anglo-
Saxon Chronicle. This provides some concrete examples of the ways
in which omission could function alongside inclusions in the context
of an individual annal as well as in the wider sense of the whole nar-
rative, drawing attention to some of the more prosaic reasons why
information might perhaps have been omitted. The second example is
also from the Chronicle. It illustrates how careful consideration of the
context of textual production is necessary to assess whether omissions
are deliberate or result from ignorance, with special focus on what
further implications of this might have for the Chronicle in particular.
The final example addresses some of the more subtle omissions of
explanation and interpretation commonly found in the early medieval
annals through an examination of the representation of the vikings in
the final section of the Annals of St-Bertin, one of the few annalistic
texts where the author’s identity is known. A comparison between the
Annals and the other surviving works of their author, Hincmar of
Reims, is extremely instructive. It is suggested on the basis of this
comparison that the absence of explicit historical interpretation
encouraged by the annal genre could have been regarded as a strong
theological advantage by early medieval writers of contemporary
history, and that the popularity of annals as a vehicle for writing
history in the early Middle Ages might therefore have been precisely
because they allowed for greater silence than other historiographical
genres.
The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, AD 776

It has already been observed that the peculiarity of the annal for 776
lies in both its omissions and its inclusions; the omission of any in-
formation of the date or outcome of the fighting at Otford, and the
inclusion of two miraculous events. The omission of any information
about the date or time of year of these events is less remarkable, since
such precise dating is absent throughout the earlier sections of the
Chronicle, as in most annals which consist of fairly short entries. The
failure to record the outcome of the battle at Otford is, however, far
more noteworthy, since the inclusion of the battle itself indicates that
the author must surely have known of the outcome, and that the
omission was therefore a deliberate one. This can be compared to the
failure of the annalist to record the expulsion of Alhred of
Northumbria two years earlier, since it is perfectly possible that an
author writing in southern England simply might not have known
about Northumbrian politics, or did not think such information
relevant: a very common reason for omission. This distinction
between a deliberate omission and one that was due to ignorance is
crucial. It raises the first important methodological point for the study
of omissions in annals, namely, the difficulty in determining whether
an event was deliberately left out of the text, or whether it was omitted
due to sheer ignorance on the part of the author, a difficulty which is
probably the main impediment against arguing for evidence from
absence. Possible means of resolving this problem are discussed at
greater length below, but in the case of this annal a judgement can be
made without much difficulty.
It is, however, easier to identify the outcome of the fighting at
Otford as a significant omission than it is to say why it was left out, a
50 Sally Lamb
problem complicated by our ignorance of when the annal was actually

written. It is probable that an original late eighth-century source lies
behind this section of the Alfredian Chronicle, in which case it is
plausible that the annalist have felt that the outcome of the battle was
so well known to his intended audience that there was no need to
actually write it down.4 Another plausible explanation, however, is
that the author did not wish to state the outcome explicitly, but rather
intended that it be implied by the inclusion of two miraculous events
in the same annal, something which is likely to have been especially
important to the late ninth-century audience of the Chronicle itself.
Certainly the presence of two miraculous events in one annal would
have served a narrative purpose for the attentive Anglo-Saxon reader.
For modern interpreters, however, knowing that these unusual signs
compensate for another kind of absence does not mean that the
implied explanation is immediately apparent, but some suggestions
can nevertheless be made. The ‘red sign of Christ’ appearing in the
sky immediately before an account of a battle is strongly reminiscent
of the heavenly sign that appeared to Constantine before the Battle of
the Milvian Bridge, implying that the annalist regarded the battle at
Otford as a God-given victory. It appears on the basis of other sources
that this battle was probably a successful Kentish rebellion against
Mercian overlordship, in which case this annal may reflect a pro-
Kentish perspective. This is also suggested by the detailed record of
the ordination of Kentish bishops between c.759 and c.804 and the
account of the attempts of several Kentish kings to throw off Mercian
hegemony (Stenton 1973: 207; Keynes 1993). The fact that a Kentish
victory is not stated explicitly could indicate that it was written after
Mercian power had been re-established in the region. On the other
hand, it should also be noted that snakes have such strong negative
connotations in Christian symbolism that the ‘snakes extraordinary’
recorded in Sussex seems to imply a less favourable view, although
this could simply refer to events in Sussex rather than Kent itself,
since there is no evidence that the South Saxons were also able to
throw off Offa’s overlordship (Stenton 1973: 208-9).
An examination of how omission and inclusion work together in
a single entry is therefore one way to study absence in early medieval
annals. Another is to consider the omissions in this annal within the
context of the Chronicle as a single text. If the annal for 776 is con-
sidered as part of the West Saxon ‘common stock’ produced shortly
before 892, then the omission of the outcome of the battle at Otford is
revealed to be part of a pattern of absence that can be seen to serve a

definite ideological purpose within the text as a whole. An
examination of all accounts of battles between Anglo-Saxon kings in
the Chronicle prior to 892 reveals that their outcomes were in fact
consistently omitted before 802, the year in which Alfred’s grand-
father Ecgberht became king of Wessex. The annal for 715, for
example, records that ‘Ine and Ceolred fought at Woden’s barrow’,
without revealing who prevailed, while the entry for 722 tells that ‘Ine
fought against the South Saxons’ with no indication of the outcome
(ASC AD 715, 723). Cuthred of Wessex is said to have fought
Æthelbald of Mercia in 741, the Welsh in 743, ealdorman Æthelhun in
750 and the Welsh again in 753, yet the result of not a single fight is
recorded, despite the West Saxon bias of the text (ASC AD 741, 742,
750, 753). While it is conceivable that one battle, including Otford,
might have had no clear victor, it is unlikely that this was true of every
single military engagement. The narrative reason for these omissions
is revealed by the sudden shift in the ways in which battles are
recorded after 802, when the Chronicle begins to note the outcome of
practically every fight, usually with the formula sige namon, ‘took the
victory’ (see for example ASC AD 802, 825, 828). The overall effect
of these omissions is thus to emphasise the military achievements of
Alfred’s own dynasty at the expense of their predecessors, whose
victories are not explicitly recorded, and hence to reinforce the other
strategies in the Chronicle aimed at glorifying Alfred’s family. It
should be noted, however, that despite this clear ideological strategy,
the ninth-century compiler did not necessarily remove pre-existing
references to victory and defeat in his source texts, since these
omissions may have existed for different reasons in the original
accounts. What the Alfredian compiler did do, however, was to throw
these earlier omissions into sharp relief by setting up a contrast with
the ninth-century annals.
King Alfred and the Mercians in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle

The second example of how omission and absence may be used as a
means of interpreting early medieval annals is also drawn from the
Chronicle, and is intended to illustrate the importance of context-
ualisation for interpreting absence in annals, as well as the potential
for using omissions as a means of revealing more about the cir-
cumstances of production of annal texts. The absence in question is
the paucity of information in the Chronicle about the kingdom of
52 Sally Lamb
Mercia, an absence which appears to cast doubt on two of the most

commonly held assumptions about the precise origin of the Alfredian
Chronicle: firstly, the notion that it was a court-based production, and
secondly, that it was intended to reflect the increased unity of West
Saxons and Mercians under Alfred’s lordship from the early 880s
onwards.5
The relative absence of Mercian information in the Chronicle is
fairly readily apparent from a survey of its references to Mercia before
800, the section which serves as the history of the various Anglo-
Saxon kingdoms before the accession of Ecgberht’s dynasty in Wes-
sex. The Mercians are not mentioned at all until the accession of
Penda of 626, long after the kings of Kent, Sussex, Wessex, North-
umbria and Essex have been introduced into the text (ASC AD 626).
Although the compiler appears to have been interested in the history
of Mercia during the seventh and eighth centuries, the information
provided is largely restricted either to records of their relations with
their southern neighbours or to notes on accession and ancestry,
apparently derived from a collection of regnal lists and genealogies
similar to that found in the ‘Anglian collection’ (Dumville 1976;
Bately 1978). There exists only a handful of exceptions, for example
the reference to the conversion of the Mercians in 655 and the record
of king Coenred’s abdication and pilgrimage to Rome in 709, could
easily have been derived from a short series of annals such as the epi-
tome at the end of Bede’s Ecclesiastical History (V, 24; Bately 1978).
Even the annals for Offa’s reign, which unsurprisingly contain the
most frequent references to Mercia, actually appear to be more
interested in the church of Canterbury than Mercia itself, following
the pro-Kentish bias discussed above.
In order to understand why this omission is significant, it is
necessary to look at the political context of the Chronicle’s production
and the assumptions that have been made by modern scholars con-
cerning the origin of the Alfredian text. It is undeniable that the
Chronicle was composed in Wessex at a time when Mercians and
West Saxons had recently become joined in the new political entity of
the ‘Kingdom of the Anglo-Saxons’ under Alfred’s lordship (Keynes
1998). There is also a fairly broad consensus amongst scholars that the
Chronicle should be associated with Alfred’s court and his revival of
learning. Despite F. M. Stenton’s arguments for a ‘private’ origin
somewhere in southwest England, this scholarly consensus is largely
based on the overwhelmingly pro-Alfredian nature of the text, its
strong focus on the person of the king and the privileged position
given to the West Saxon dynasty in the Chronicle’s account of
English history.6 On this basis, it has been persuasively argued that the
compiler of the Chronicle intended to use his text as a means of
communicating the Alfredian ideology of West Saxon and Mercian
unity that lay behind the new political entity of the ‘Kingdom of the
Anglo-Saxons’ (Keynes 1998). These arguments are in many ways
attractive, but some doubt concerning their compatibility is raised
when the absence of Mercian material in the Chronicle is considered
in light of the kind of information which might have been available to
a court-based compiler. It is well known that there was a strong Mer-
cian presence at Alfred’s court, not least because his wife was ‘from
the stock of the noble Mercians’ (Asser, ch. 73; 88). In addition, at
least four of the ‘court scholars’ associated with Alfred’s revival of
learning were Mercian, including Plegmund, who became Archbishop
of Canterbury in 890, and Werferth of Worcester, who translated the
Dialogues of Gregory the Great into Old English (Asser, ch. 77).
When it is also noted that Alfred’s eldest daughter had married
Ealdorman Æthelred of Mercia and ruled jointly with him under her
father’s overlordship, then it is hardly surprising that Alfred’s court
should be ‘positively crawling with Mercians’ (Keynes 1998: 39).
In this context, it seems unlikely that a compiler who was both
based at Alfred’s court and who wished to communicate an ‘Anglo-
Saxon’ ideology of Mercian and West Saxon unity would not have
had access to better information about Mercia. This omission in the
Chronicle therefore raises the possibility that the compiler was either
based at some distance from court, or that he did not wholly share
Alfred’s ideology of Anglo-Saxon unity and wished to convey a
message of West Saxon supremacy in his text. There are arguments
for and against both of these suggestions, and it is not the aim here to
claim that these omissions are in any way decisive evidence for the
origin of the Chronicle, since this is an immensely complex topic and
would require consideration of many other factors. Rather, this
example has been intended to show that omission can be fruitfully
used alongside other aspects of a text as evidence for its origin and
ideology, and to illustrate the key methodological point that absence
of information can assume real significance when it is considered in
the context of the information available to the author. In this way, the
problem of whether absence resulted from ignorance or was due to a
deliberate omission can begin to be resolved.
54 Sally Lamb
The absence of interpretation in early medieval annals

The final example concerns a slightly different aspect of omission in
early medieval annals, namely, their common lack of explanation and
interpretation, a tendency which can be considered as one of the main
characteristics of annals from this period. While literary techniques of
careful use of juxtaposition and contrast, together with records of
miracles and supernatural phenomena, can provide alternative means
of conveying opinion and interpretation, some annalistic accounts
have nothing that appears to serve as historical explanation. The dif-
ference between annals and other genres of early medieval historical
writings in this respect can sometimes be observed through comparing
different accounts of the same events. The narrative of the viking raids
in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, for example, provides hardly any ex-
planations for events, despite the copious historical explanation and
interpretation found in Asser’s account of the same years, itself based
on the Chronicle (Lamb 2005).
This type of omission can be explored further by turning from
ninth-century England to contemporary Francia, where the much
greater amount of surviving historical writing enables annals to be
placed in a more precise textual and historical context.7 One set of
annals in particular is open to a uniquely detailed comparison with a
wide range of other texts: the section of the Annals of St-Bertin written
by Hincmar of Reims between c.861 and 882. Hincmar, Archbishop
of Reims from 845 to 882, is well known to modern historians as one
of the most prolific authors as well as one of the most prominent
figures of his day. His surviving works encompass not only annals,
but also letters, theological treatises, political tracts, coronation or-
dines and hagiography, alongside various royal documents in which
he seems to have had a hand (Devisse 1975-76; Nelson 1991: 9-13).
On the basis of these texts it is therefore possible to gain a far better
sense of Hincmar’s world view than it is for any other early medieval
annalist, and hence compare the views expressed in his annal with
those found in his corpus of writings as a whole. This comparison
suggests that that the omission of explicit interpretation and opinion
concerning contemporary events found in annals was not only a result
of the annal genre, but is reflected across a wide spectrum of his
works. It seems possible that the widespread omission of historical in-
terpretation in early medieval annals could well have had a theological
basis, one which was closely linked to a general intellectual problem
posed by the writing of contemporary history to the authors of the
early Middle Ages: how to write a history of events governed by the

notion of divine providence, at a time when God’s purpose had not yet
been made fully manifest.
A useful case study to illustrate this point is the representation
and interpretation of the viking raids in Hincmar’s writings.8 As with
the two previous examples, a good deal of background is required, but
the result of a close textual study is extremely revealing. The omission
of a consistent interpretation of the viking raids in Hincmar’s annals is
perhaps not immediately apparent, since the Annals of St-Bertin both
contain more in the way of historical explanation than most ninth-
century annals and are obviously written within the framework of
divine providence. Nevertheless, a survey of the numerous accounts of
viking activity in the text shows that a consistent interpretation is
lacking. Many raids are left unexplained, while the five or six explicit
interpretations that Hincmar did include appear to lack coherence. On
one or two occasions, a direct association is made between a defeat by
a viking group and a particular sin, for example when Robert of Anjou
and Ranulf of Poitiers were killed in 866, an event which Hincmar
associated with their acceptance of lay abbacies (Annals AD 866).
Elsewhere, however, he describes how the vikings themselves were
punished for their attacks on churches and monasteries, without
making it clear whether the same vikings were simultaneously
imagined to be an instrument of divine wrath against the Franks
(Annals AD 865). Hincmar also acknowledged that divine judgement
was responsible for viking successes against the church, as for
example when the vikings on the Loire successfully attacked Orleans
and Fleury in 865, yet he made no effort at any point in the text to
explain why God should have judged these monasteries and churches
to destruction (Annals AD 865). It should also be noted that all of
these explanations only address the question of Frankish success or
failure against vikings, and there is no attempt to explain why the
vikings had come to be raiding in Francia in the first place. If implicit
explanations are also taken into account, a similar picture emerges.
Hincmar did on occasion imply that a successful viking raid was a
punishment for a particular sin. In both 863 and 864, for example, he
clearly wished to convey the message that viking successes had
punished Lothar II on account of his divorce case (Annals AD 863,
864). Many raids, however, were recorded with no explanation at all,
and there remained no attempt to explain why God should allow
churches to be attacked and burned.
56 Sally Lamb
If this rather incomplete and ambiguous picture is compared to

references to the viking raids in Hincmar’s other writings, an in-
teresting picture emerges. Hincmar’s non-historical works are very
different from the Annals, far more didactic and exhortatory, and with
a much greater use of rhetorical language. We might therefore expect
these texts to provide a clearer answer to the problem that the vikings
ultimately posed to Carolingian thinkers; why would a good God
allowed a pagan people to attack faithful Christians? In order to
explore this, it is worth briefly summarising Hincmar’s general
approach to the question of the divine role in history, before
examining how it was applied to the vikings in particular. Various
letters and treatises demonstrate clearly that Hincmar interpreted
history firmly within the framework of divine providence, where an
omnipotent God was ultimately responsible for all the events of this
world. Man had free will and so could choose not to be saved, or
could be corrupted by Satan, but only because this was permitted by
God. It was also central to Hincmar’s thought that God was not only
intrinsically good, but that only good things could emanate from a
good God, a belief which formed the cornerstone of his refutation of
the theology of double predestination propounded by Gottschalk in the
850s and 860s (Ganz 1990). Logically, the trials and tribulations that
afflicted mankind must therefore ultimately be for the good of
humanity, and any potential contradiction was resolved through
Hincmar’s firm and frequently expressed belief that troubles were
intended to encourage repentance and penance and hence help lead the
sinner to salvation. As Hincmar wrote in his treatise De fide servanda,
God grants all victories so as best to preserve his church. Although
Hincmar did not employ the simple equation that good behaviour
would lead to temporal rewards and sin to temporal punishment, he
was still certain that sins incurred divine anger in this life as well as
the next, since only by showing his wrath could God make clear the
need for repentance and penance on the part of the sinner. He also
wrote in one instance that a bad king could lead to troubles affecting
his entire kingdom, an idea frequently found in the Old Testament.
This would then seem to be the context in which Hincmar inter-
preted the vikings: they were a punishment sent by God to remind
Christians of their need for repentance. In this light, the omission of a
coherent interpretation in the annals might seem to be primarily a re-
sult of the laconic style encouraged by the annal genre. Nevertheless,
this is not the whole story. However confident Hincmar may have
been that God intended the viking raids for the good of his people, he
was as reluctant to state this clearly in his letters and treatises as he
was in his annals. Despite the number of works which address
questions of repentance and penance, the vikings are mentioned as an
example of divine punishment on only a handful of occasions. Even
when they are mentioned in this context, for example in two of the
three circular letters written in February 859, the vikings are referred
to only in passing, with the bulk of the text devoted to other
contemporary troubles.9 Hincmar also significantly failed to address
explicitly the question of why God allowed churches to be attacked.
Finally, he continued to concentrate only on questions of success or
failure against the vikings, and hence provided no explanation for why
God had caused them to come to Francia in the first place. Indeed, in
De fide servanda, he actually drew attention to his silence of ‘words’
on the vikings and his preference for sorrow and remorse, writing ‘let
us hold back our words concerning the frequent infestations of pagans
and the other anxieties, by which we are very greatly pressed, and
exclaim with groans and sighs’.10 In light of this silence, it is not sur-
prising that a considerable amount of ambiguity remains concerning
Hincmar’s interpretation of the viking raids.
The continuing omissions and ambiguities concerning the inter-
pretation of the viking raids in Hincmar’s non-historical writing
therefore suggests that the silences in the Annals of St-Bertin on this
subject were an intrinsic part of Hincmar’s thought on the vikings, and
not merely a result of the annal genre. The most likely explanation for
this consistent omission seems to be that Hincmar, for all his con-
fidence in divine goodness and omnipotence, never fully succeeded in
explaining to himself why God had allowed the raids to happen. In
contrast to other contemporary events, Hincmar could not readily
draw on parallels from scripture or patristic authorities to explain the
vikings, as he could for questions of kingship, ecclesiastical issues and
law. Careful reading of his three treatises on predestination show that
he was prepared in such circumstances to follow the classic Augus-
tinian position, that of the ineffability of God (Brown 1967; Markus
1970). In other words, since attacks by vikings on churches and
monasteries could not be readily explained through reference to higher
authorities, Hincmar could not presume to second-guess the divine
purpose at a time when the ultimate outcome of the raids in Francia
was not yet apparent. An interesting comparison here can be drawn
with Hincmar’s hagiographical writing on St Remigius, apostle to the
58 Sally Lamb
Franks and bishop of Reims (Vita Sancti Remigi Rhemorum Archi-

episcopi). As guardian of the Reims tradition, Hincmar was more
aware than most that the Franks themselves had originally been pagan
invaders of Gaul. Who was to say that the vikings would not turn out
to follow the same path as the Franks? Just as Hincmar was in a far
better position than the contemporaries of Childeric and Clovis to
know the true destiny of the invading Franks, so writers after him
would be able to assess why God had allowed the viking raids.
Absence and omission could have a theological basis.
In the course of this discussion, mention has been made several
times of how the terse literary style of annals tended to encourage
omissions. In the light of this possible theological basis for omission,
it is appropriate to look at this issue from the opposite perspective, and
to ask if Hincmar might not have chosen annals as the most suitable
vehicle for writing contemporary history precisely because they allow-
ed him to remain silent on some of the most difficult topics that faced
an early medieval writer of contemporary history. For the writer of
providential history, it was not only the vikings who posed the chal-
lenge of interpreting the divine will while events were still ongoing. It
was safer, perhaps, simply to record events and to let posterity judge
the ultimate causes. This hypothesis can be extrapolated further, since
it certainly seems possible that other annals lack historical explanation
for the same reason, namely that the annalists did not wish to presume
to interpret the divine plan before it had been made fully manifest.
The overall popularity of annals for writing contemporary history in
the early Middle Ages could therefore have been in part due to their
conventions of brevity and omissions. While this is harder to prove for
other texts, where we lack the extensive comparative material left by
Hincmar, it would certainly be interesting to see how a wider range of
annals might respond to a similar interpretation.
Conclusion
Extrapolating evidence from absence in early medieval annals will al-
ways involve numerous pitfalls, yet omissions and absences were as
much part of the construction of early medieval texts as the inclusion
of material. While the interpretation of silence and omission is a
difficult approach and one which will never be able to match the value
of the words written on the page, it is hoped that the examples
discussed here have provided some insights into the ways in which
omission in early medieval annals can be approached, interpreted and
used. Omission was commonly used by early medieval annals as a

means of constructing the narrative and ideology of a text, and
deserves to be taken seriously. It cannot be denied that significant
methodological problems are involved, but when placed within an
accurate historical and textual context, absences and omissions can
provide clues to ideology, they can reveal information about the
circumstances in which texts were produced, and provide clues as to
how narratives were constructed. A study of the omission and absence
in our texts may even aid our understanding of one of the most
difficult questions in early medieval historiography, that of how early
medieval annalists conceived of their task of writing the history of
their own times.
Notes
1
Unless stated otherwise, the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle is referred to via Bately (1986).
ASC 776 A: Her oþiewde read Cristesmæl on hefenum æfter sunnan setlgonge; 7 þy
geare gefuhton Mierce 7 Cantware æt Ottanforda; 7 wunderleca nædran wæron
gesewene on Suþ Seaxna londe. Trans. from Swanton (1996).
2
For early medieval annals as a genre, see McCormick (1975).
3
See White (1971: esp. ch. 1), Nelson (1988), McKitterick (1997); Foot (2005).
4
On the compilation of the Chronicle, see Bately (1978: 93-129), Keynes and
Lapidge (1983: 39-40).
5
Keynes (1998); a distinct yet related interpretation is found in Foot (1996).
6
See Stenton (1970). Janet Bately (1980) has also tended to argue for an origin
removed from Alfred’s court. For the Chronicle as closely associated with Alfred, see
Davis (1971), Nelson (1993), Scharer (1996), Abels (1993), Smyth (1995), and Foot
(1996); Keynes and Lapidge (1983: 39-41) takes a more cautious but still ‘Alfredian’
perspective.
7
For historical writing in Francia, see McKitterick (2004), and Hen and Innes (2000).
8
For Carolingian interpretations of the vikings, see Coupland (1991).
9
Hincmari archiepiscopi remensis epistolarum pars prio, pp. 62-65.
10
‘… nos de frequentibus paganorum infestationibus et caeteris anxietatibus, quibus
divitius premimur, verbis taceamus, et gemitibus ac suspiriis excalmemus, Hincmar,
de fide servanda’ ; col. 96.
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Annales Bertiniani. Ed. G. Waitz. MGH SRG 5. Hanover: Hahn Verlag, 1883.
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[–––]. Alfred the Great. Trans. S. Keynes and M. Lapidge. Hammondsworth: Pen-
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[–––]. Charlemagne’s Courtier: the Complete Einhard. Trans. P. Dutton. Peter-
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–––. De praedestinatione Dei et libero arbitrio. PL 125, cols. 65-474.
–––. Vita Sancti Remigi Rhemorum Archiepiscopi. PL 125, cols. 1129-85.
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[–––]. Carolingian Chronicles. Trans. B. Scholz. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan
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62 Sally Lamb
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THE ‘PARKER CHRONICLE’: CHRONOLOGY GONE AWRY
Nicholas Sparks
Abstract
The object of this study is alien chronologies left in the framework
of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. The paper unfolds in two parts: the
first considers different modes of reckoning time used generally in
the Chronicle, the second considers an important moment of dis-
location peculiar to the Parker Chronicle. The second part reviews
the following important questions: Does the first scribal break on
folio 16 correspond with an identifiable textual break? How far may
the Parker Chronicle be considered to reflect the text of its exem-
plar? And to what extent can the shape of the original Chronicle text
be inferred from the physical evidence presented by the Parker
Chronicle?
One could think of a chronicle simply as a narrative of events in the

order of time and assume that such a conception, which takes the
succession of years as its framework, would be accurate in the chrono-
logical information it provides.1 Therefore, the Parker Chronicle (also
cited as MS A) is exceptional, since its various alternatives in matters
of chronology cause a good deal of complication. The Parker Chron-
icle manuscript is named after its former owner Archbishop Matthew
Parker (†1575), and is among the manuscripts given by him to Corpus
Christi College, Cambridge; the chronicle itself occupies fols. 1v-32r
of Cambridge, Corpus Christi College MS 173.2 MS A is the oldest
surviving witness of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (hereafter ASC): a
complicated historical record which has come down to us in seven
different manuscripts and a single leaf, each with its own unique story
of literary growth and textual transmission. Accordingly, then, the
ASC presents an astonishing web of history. Composed in the native
tongue, anonymous and written by many hands, it is, after Bede, the
chief source for English history and a great relic of Anglo-Saxon his-
64 Nicholas Sparks
toriography: ‘dating from the late ninth century, it was prepared in the
circle and probably even the household of King Alfred’.3
Some words are first needed on the phrase ‘the order of time’,
since it is with questions of order and disorder in the making of time
that this study is chiefly concerned. It seems that the Anglo-Saxon
compilers found it most convenient to cast in chronicle form what
hitherto had been collected by way of earlier sources. But the sources
which the compilation drew upon must have had different ways for
the reckoning of years. And so error was introduced into the narrative
by additions from sources which did not share the same original
chronology.4
The aim of this study, which unfolds naturally in two sections,
considers alien chronologies left in the context of the ASC. The first
part examines the ASC in general, and some of the different ways that
competing chronologies have been incorporated into the body of
annals. The second part examines an important moment of scribal
dislocation found in MS A alone. First, then, to sketch in outline some
of the different modes of reckoning the years found in the wider
context of the ASC.
The Parker Chronicle, as noted, is the earliest copy of the ASC,
which exists in seven Old English witnesses, each a continuation of
(substantially) the same original work.5 The first, or original, hand of
MS A seems to have been writing probably at the beginning of the
tenth century (or thereabouts). In respect of textual authority, how-
ever, we are reminded of the classic dictum recentiores non
deteriores; the corollary, of course, that greater antiquity need not
imply greater authority, for as Plummer and others have noted, MS A
is a copy of a copy at least two removes from the (putative) original
compilation.6
The nucleus of the ASC is a collection of early records evidently
available for copying from the early 890s. Accordingly, it is reason-
able to date the most recent stage of the compilation perhaps a little
earlier.7 The archetype of the ASC, that is, the substrate text from
which all the other texts were copied or derived, is referred to as ‘the
common stock’.8 Put together in Wessex apparently during the reign
of King Alfred (871–899), the common stock is said to have been
connected with Alfred’s programme of mass translation and book
production.9 But the relation of Alfred and the ASC is sometimes
questioned because no hard evidence exists (it seems) to link the King
directly with any part of the first compilation. F. M. Stenton has
The ‘Parker Chronicle’: Chronology Gone Awry 65
argued that the ASC was produced as a private work written for an
ealdorman or thegn interested in the south-western shires (Stenton
1970: 106-15; 1971: 692-93). But that theory raises more questions
than it answers, not least in view of the national outlook afforded by
the political and dynastic scope of the sources. Moreover, because the
work was a major intellectual undertaking, the administrative agency,
let alone the physical resources, needed for such widespread copying
and distribution to major political and ecclesiastical centres of
England, must have been immense.10 Furthermore, a copy of the ASC
is known to have been available already at Alfred’s court; for so much
is confirmed from the details of Asser’s Life.11
If the relation of Alfred and the Chronicle is open to inter-
pretation, then could traces of still earlier sources provide us with a
glimpse of the previous history of the work? On the state of the text
under Alfred, J. Earle saw the origin of the work in the outline of older
chronicles: ‘… the difficulties of imagining that such a collection of
annals (meagre as it often is), covering a period of 437 years, could
have been made in 892 if Chronicles had not been kept before, are
insuperable’ (1865: vi). Such a view presumes the existence of a pre-
Alfredian chronicle, which implies that its offspring, emerging from a
later tradition of West-Saxon historiography, came to represent the
starting-point of an Alfredian continuation. Accordingly, then, it is not
unreasonable to assume that the West-Saxon Regnal List came to be
associated with the ASC text at this point, since the text of the List,
which developed its present form under Alfred, carried no further than
the point of his accession.12
The idea of a pre-Alfredian chronicle is tantalizing. Features of
the mid ninth-century annals, for instance, have prompted the theory
that the final years of Æthelwulf’s reign marked the end of an older
chronicle. In respect of this theory, J. B. Wynn has remarked:
As annal 855 is approached, the writing becomes fuller, more detailed
and more varied, culminating in the narrative in annal 855 of the last
two years of Æthelwulf’s reign. This is followed by a genealogy tracing
Æthelwulf’s ancestry back to Adam; it concludes with the pious Amen,
and seems to suggest the end of an older chronicle.13
Against a pre-Alfredian compilation, Professor Bately has argued the

case for a unitary chronicle as opposed to a two-stage compilation.14
On the basis of vocabulary, a change of authorship in the annals for
the 870s and 880s is adduced (ipso facto the possible continuation of
66 Nicholas Sparks
older work), but no decisive argument has yet been brought against
the existence of a pre-855 Chronicle. The genealogy of Æthelwulf is
equivocal, I think. It may have been deliberately deployed, since it
looks back and forth in both directions with an emphasis on the West-
Saxon royal line.15 The idea of a chronicle within a chronicle com-
plicates the history of the postulated archetype.16 Moreover, it gives
the text a kind of living chronology, where the past becomes like a
series of receding vistas, and each new copy evolves as an outgrowth
of its predecessor.
No matter whether there are grounds for the view of a pre-
Alfredian chronicle or whether MS A is regarded as the copy of (a
copy of) sources put together for the first time under Alfred, the
problem of untangling the mixed bag of chronologies must have
seriously exercised the compilers. The main system of reckoning in
the ASC is the mode of calculating the years from the Incarnation of
our Lord, the so-called anno Domini era (Declerq 2000; also Moss-
hammer 2008). Using the era of Incarnation for historical purposes
changed the course of medieval historiography. The evolution of
annals was due in part to the entry of historical notices in the margins
of cyclus decennovenalis, the 19-year paschal cycle of Dionysius
Exiguus, originally made for keeping the date of Easter (Harrison
1976: ch. 4). The Christian era became the Anglo-Saxon norm after it
was adopted by Bede in his greater treatise on the reckoning of time
De Temporum Ratione and then afterwards in the Historia Ecclesias-
tica Gentis Anglorum (Levison 1966). R. L. Poole noted of the origins
of the Christian era in English historical traditions:
From the time of Bede, at all events, the year was in England reckoned
from the Incarnation. It was the discovery of this Era that made the
revival of historiography possible, and it was beyond question an
English discovery. (1926: 26)
Reckoning from the Incarnation was taken up on the authority of

Bede, for in several places the Anglo-Saxon compiler carries over pas-
sages directly from Bede’s Epitome, or the chronological summary, to
his History, and enters almost every entry in it.17 However, problems
arise from the so-called ‘error of Dionysus’, namely, the claim that his
Easter tables had mistakenly recorded the true Year of Grace (Declerq
2000: 189-93). The first Dionysian table was issued for the cycle
beginning AD 532, but what is not made clear is how the year was
calculated ab incarnatione. It is generally accepted that Dionysius put
the Incarnation between two and four years too late, but what may be
said for an error of this kind: safeguarded by authority, perpetuated by
convention, and compounded by the dislocation of individual texts?
If the Incarnation grew up as the standard era after Bede, then it
hardly seems likely that it could have been used to date the earliest
English records. Besides the passages taken over from the Epitome
(which had been retrospectively synchronized, presumably by Bede
himself), for most of the early compilation the Anglo-Saxon compilers
probably had to deal with several dating systems derived from local
sources. In fact, a number of older systems lurk within the narrative:
there is the anno mundi system (= AM) employing the so-called
Mundane era, which calculates events from the Book of Genesis
according to the Six Ages of the World (Bately 1979b: 177-94). As a
working method, this system attempts to synchronize world history
within the framework of annals, but far from establishing a universal
era, or presenting the ASC with any kind of substantial world view, the
AM system presents a chronology that is much disordered, causing as
much confusion among its own dates as for those which use the
Christian era (Bately 1979b: 192-94).
Turning, next, to some of the other chronologies which can be
seen to exist beneath the surface of the narrative: the dislocation of
events by thirty-three years in the early section of the ASC is attributed
to the fact that annals from an Easter Table using Victorius of Aqui-
tane’s Annus Passionis era had been mistakenly entered into the AD
system.18 Furthermore, if parallels between the ASC and the Old
English Orosius may be taken to indicate a common literary back-
ground, it could possibly imply that sources using the era of ab urbe
condita (from the founding of the City [Rome]) had been synchro-
nized within the framework of the ASC.19 The foundation of Wessex is
also established as an era for the king-lists of the ASC, but the myth of
Cerdic serves just as well for glorifying the ruling West-Saxon dynas-
ty, and rather less it seems an arbitrary point for the reckoning of time
(Foot 1996: 25-49; also Asser-KL 217, n.62). That the regnal chrono-
logy of the ASC is much disordered may be seen from the comparison
of the West-Saxon Regnal List with the length of different reigns pre-
sented in the narrative.20 Finally, there is the mythological era found in
the upper reaches of the royal genealogies: alliterative schemes of an
ancient type that trace the descent of the early kingdoms back to the
figure of Woden.21
68 Nicholas Sparks
II
This second section considers a moment of significant dislocation

peculiar to the Parker Chronicle. There are several questions of dating
which will be considered next in view of the physical evidence of MS
A. Does the scribal break at the foot of folio 16r in MS A correspond
with an identifiable break in the text of the ASC? To what extent does
MS A represent its exemplar? On the dissection of the annals at this
point, Professor Keynes has recently remarked:
The annals for 891 and 892 cannot be associated with, or dissociated
from, the preceding annals by application of linguistic criteria alone,
but on textual and historical grounds they do seem to belong to the
common stock, and not with the material which follows. (Keynes 1986:
197; also Asser-KL, 277-79)
The first or original hand of MS A has been assigned termini post

and ante quem of 891 x c.920 on evidence from the general character
of the script. The question of date raises the question of origin: where
was MS A written?22 Several divergent views of the manuscript
evidence have been published over the last half century. For this
study, the growth of the codex and the character of the script are main
concerns, and since these are visible in that part of MS A containing
the annals for 891 and 892, a review of the evidence is needed.
The collation of MS A has been subject to much disagreement
since the part of the codex containing the ASC-text reflects an unusual
construction. The first quire, Q. I, is of seven leaves, originally eight,
the first having been excised so that now only a stub remains. The first
leaf had already strayed by the last quarter of the sixteenth century.23
Accordingly, therefore, the present folio 7 is now a singleton. The
collation of Q. I is usually formulated: I8 (wants 1). The parchment is
stiff and suede-like, ruddy brown in colour, with rough uneven edges.
The arrangement of the leaves is in HFHF, pricked after folding in
both inner and outer lateral margins and then ruled on the hair-side
recto.24 Structurally speaking, Q. IV is virtually the mirror image of Q.
I. It consists of seven leaves, originally eight, the last having been
excised. The structure of that quire is usually formulated: IV8 (wants
8). It is probable that the final leaf was blank and cut away by the
binder when Q. IV was inserted between Q.I–III and Q.V (containing
the Laws), before c.950.25 The main concern for MS A at this point is
the make-up of Q. II and Q. III. The preparation of these gatherings
has recently been questioned and so a quire scheme has been drawn to
assist comprehension of their structure:
The skins of Q. I look and feel the same as Q. II, with the
exception of folio 16, a singleton, which is thinner and skived more
closely than the others. The folios 9 and 14 are also singletons. With
the exception of folio 14, there is no trace of pricking or ink-trails on
the stubs.26 The arrangement of the leaves is in HFHF, pricked in the
lateral margins after folding, then ruled in the first the hair-side. Five
sewing stations appear of the original binding structure. It is certain
that folio 16 was not one half of a bifolium subsequently cancelled.
For confirmation of this, we may refer to three facts: (i) the physical
difference of the membrane; (ii) the unusual pattern of ‘double
pricking’ which differs in shape and position from fols. 8-15; and (iii)
the ruling of 39 long lines compared with 36 long lines throughout the
rest of the quire. Taken together it favours the view that folio 16 was a
probable supply-leaf added to the end of Q. II to receive an overflow
of the text from the exemplar.
70 Nicholas Sparks
Q. III differs radically in its composition from the preceding

quires. The membranes are thicker and lighter in colour, with a waxy
surface, except for folio 25, which is a thin, wrinkly type of limp
membrane. Folios 19, 22, 25 are singletons. The final leaf (fol. 25)
also seems to be a later supply, probably added by the same scribe
who began writing on the last four lines of fol. 24v and then continued
overleaf.27 The arrangement in Q. I and Q. II is HFHF, the normal In-
sular fashion. But in Q. III, and all subsequent quires, the arrangement
changes to HFFH: a continental symptom.28 The manner of pricking
also changes. The skins are pricked in the outer margin only. Accord-
ingly, they were pricked before folding: another continental symp-
tom.29 Significantly, folio 24 of Q. III bears the only other example of
‘double pricking’, found elsewhere only on folio 16. Thenceforward,
the ruling varies from 26 long lines on fols. 17r-21v, to 25 long lines
on fols. 22r-32v. The written space diminishes: c.245x145 mm. on
fols. 1-16; c.230 x 160 mm. on leaves 17 and 18; c.225 x 140 mm. on
fols. 19-30 (Ker 1957: 58; but cf. Sato 1997: 83-85).
Scholars differ in their views of the evidence and so the question
arises: was Q. II originally a quaternion? If so, it may be formulated:
II8 (+ 1 after 8).30 Or was it a quinion? In which case it may be formu-
lated: II10 (lacks 3, 9; + 1 after 10).31 There is a similar divergence with
regard to Q. III. Scholars on one side incline to favour the for-
mulation: III8 (+ 1 after 8), the underlying assumption being that MS
A was originally made up of gatherings of four bifolia intended to
make eight leaves, and that this system remained consistent for the
whole codex.32 Scholars on the other side incline to favour another

formulation: III10 (lacks 3, 7; + 1 after 10), the underlying assumption
being that the singletons (fols. 19, 22) were originally conjoined pairs,
that is, planned bifolia which were cancelled at some later stage – with
the corollary, of course, that MS A grew now by quaternions, now by
quinions, therefore, quite irregularly.33
From the purely codicological point of view, Q. II and Q. III are
virtually identical, but their preparation differs radically. The change-
over of scribes at folio 16 coincides with a marked increase in
continental symptoms. What this signifies is a new production phase
at some chronological remove after the original writing campaign.
Although MS A is written from the first in clearly English script, the
preponderance of continental symptoms seems to speak for growing
continental influence in the scriptorium or the region where it was
made.34
From analysis of the construction of the codex we shall now pass
to a closer view of the hands employed on pieces of the writing.With
regard to the first or original hand, the writing campaign has been
assigned termini post and ante quem of 891 x c.920 based on the
palaeography of the manuscript. But scholars differ in their views of
the details of the handwriting. The date of the minuscule is critical,
since the change between the first and second scribes seems to be the
key to dating the manuscript.
The scribes’ work must be assessed with some deliberation. The
first hand extends to the foot of folio 16r: the death of Suibhne in 891
is followed by a mark of punctuation (l. 36) after which the annal-
number 892 is entered on the next line as if ready for new material.
The first hand writes a revived style of cursive bookhand which was in
use at the same period as T. J. Brown’s Phase II Type B minuscule
was terminally mutating in Southumbrian scriptoria from the middle
of the ninth-century.35 The features of the handwriting are transitional
in character, showing formative tendencies of the conscious shift from
the narrow, pointed minuscule of s. ix to the wider, squarer script of s.
x.36 The prevailing trends of the scribe, or the guidelines of his model,
anticipates the full-blown development of the reformed script-style
known as the English Square minuscule.37 The beginnings of that style
appear here in the first hand of MS A.
Manuscripts associated with scribe 1 of MS A are more or less
datable to within ten years of 900, to judge at least from the resem-
blance of the first hand to the script of (i) the Old English bounds near
72 Nicholas Sparks
the foot of fol. 40v in Cotton MS Harley 2965, the ‘Book of Nunna-
minster’.38 Those specimens are in a similar hand to (ii), the second
scribe in Trinity College, MS. B.15.33 (368), the ‘Trinity Isidore’,
who was working in the same scriptorium at around the same time as
the restorer of the ‘Corpus Sedulius’, now bound after MS A and the
Laws of Alfred in (iii) Corpus Christi College, MS 173, fols. 57-83.39
The scribe who restored the copy of Sedulius has been identified with
the first hand of the Parker Chronicle. The second hand of the Trinity
Isidore is sometimes assigned to the writing of two more specimens:
(iv) a form of confession on fol. 41r in MS Harley 2965,40 and (v) a
fragment of Bede in the National Archives, SP 46/125, fol. 302r.41 A
dated charter comparable with the first hand of MS A is in Cotton MS
Augustus, ii.89.42 The Eardwulf grant is a slightly later copy of a
genuine charter dated 875 and written in an upright and compacted
script of s. ix/x.43 The script bears something of the aspect of fols. 1r-
16r of MS A, but the hand is not identical and the resemblance is not
close enough to press the matter further.44
For that part of the manuscript from the West Saxon Regnal List
to 891, a consensus has seemed to emerge (not without exception)
which assigns the first hand to c.900: Plummer and Parkes date the
script to the last decade of the ninth century;45 Bately, with Ker and
Brown, assigns it to around the end of the ninth or the beginning of
the tenth centuries;46 Dumville proposes a date in the 910s (but just
possibly as late as the 920s) (Dumville 1987: 164; 1992: ch. 3). From
the earliest form of the text, that is, the form in which it circulated
during Alfred’s reign, a date of c.900, is a decade or so beyond the
lower limit of the original compilation. But the first hand of MS A,
both majuscule and minuscule forms, seems to be slightly later than
the evidence from contents which is signified by the co-terminus of
the ASC-text and the List, 891 x c.899. Accordingly, then, one could
suppose that the text of MS A is a slightly later copy of a recension
first created in 891 x c.899, and extended thereafter by scribes who
continued the text beyond where their exemplar originally broke off.
The palaeography of MS A is a difficult subject, and it is not the
aim here to consider it any more in commenting on the chronological
mishap which marks the end of the first scribal stint and the beginning
of the second, whereby the original dates were altered by one year up
to and including the annal-number for 929.47 The dislocation is purely
mechanical and unique to MS A, yet it provides an instructive view of
West-Saxon historiography around the end of the ninth century. In the
belief that there was nothing more to add for the year 891, scribe 1
inserted the annal-number for 892 three lines from the bottom of fol.
16r, clearly expecting another installment.48 The second scribe, with
more to add to the same year, failed to expunge his predecessor’s
annal-number for 892 and commenced overleaf at the top of fol. 16v
with the words ‘7 þy ilcan geare ofer Eastron’, describing the long-
haired star which appeared at the Rogations. Scribe 2 started his next
entry with an annal-number 892 of his own and thereby introduced
duplication into the series. Sometime later, ‘the corrector’, noticing
the duplication, proceeded to alter events by one year (compounding
an existing error caused by the barren annals 913–915), reflecting his
understanding of the chronology and so (he thought) producing
harmony of the annals.49
From this turn of events some remarks may be made on the
chronology of the ASC and the attitude of the scribes in relation to MS
A. Two facts support the view that scribe 1 thought that he had
finished writing for the year 891: (i) he followed the passage with his
major punctuation mark used elsewhere only at the end of annals, and
(ii) he then wrote the annal-number for 892 in the margin of the next
line and then stopped.50 The train of events that year includes: (a) the
late summer or autumn movements of the Danish army and the battle
which Arnulf won on the River Dyle, (b) the landing of three Irish
exiles on the shores of Cornwall, and (c) the death of Suibhne,
anchorite and scholar of Clonmacnoise.51 With text for the same year
continued at the head of fol. 16v, it seems reasonable to assume that
scribe 1 made use of a source which carried up to, but not beyond,
Easter, which fell that year on the 4 April. The commencement of the
year in this part of the ASC is still under consideration.52 But only two
modes of computation require notice. The reckoning of the year from
the Cæsarian Indiction (24 September) and from Midwinter (25 De-
cember): these are the only styles evident in this section of the annals.
Essays in the chronology have shown that the series of years from
851–890 provide evidence for dating from 24 September, but this
ceases to hold after 892.53 A reversion to Midwinter dating, used in
the early section of the ASC, is possible but not necessary.54 But a
change of dating here is beside the point. Whether our scribe’s source
used Cæsarian or Christmas dating, the copy which lay before him
hardly went beyond Easter. In other words, it broke off after about
half-way through the calendar year. It seems therefore that what lay
74 Nicholas Sparks
before scribe 1 was incomplete or defective: why else would he write

just half an annal?55
In the next place, we turn to a view of scribe 2 and the beginning
of his portion of annals in MS A. With something more to add to the
year 891, scribe 2 started writing overleaf (fol. 16v) but failed to erase
the annal-number for 892 left by his predecessor at the foot of the pre-
vious page. Perhaps he did not notice the point of continuation, simply
skipping over the blank annal-number, just as he did later on for the
blank annal-numbers 913–915. The standing practice here seems to
have been to enter several annal-numbers in advance of future
material. But scribe 2 broke convention by starting with the connec-
tive phrase ‘7 þy ilcan geare ofer Eastron’. In regard to professional
standards, the proficiency of scribe 1 is clearly beyond that of scribe 2.
Perhaps it may suggest the circumstances that could obtain if scribe 2
was still a young man in training.56 The script he practised was of a
younger type and his quiring was more recent in England. Moreover,
scribe 2 lacked the professional habits which come naturally to an old
hand: only a man new to the business fails to follow the rules of the
workplace. It is someone unused to writing annals who commits such
basic errors common to their form. It is someone new to the script-
orium who fails to follow the lines set down by their predecessor.
As for dating the event, the comet of 891 is recorded by numer-
ous independent witnesses.57 The same comet is recorded in two
continental sources of s. x1: (i) the St Gall continuation of the Annales
Alamannici;58 and (ii) the Annales Laubacenses from Lobbes.59
Oriental chronicles from China and Japan tell of ‘the broom star’
which appeared in that year around the middle of May. This confirms
the notice in the ASC which cites the appearance of the comet at the
Rogation days (or earlier) – which fell that year on 10-12 May (Kronk
1999: 140). That scribe 2 copied an exemplar which was nearly con-
temporary with events cannot be ruled out.
In the last place, then, to the ‘corrector’, who only compounded
chronological error for his part in the narrative. We know that this
hand added a minim to the year properly given as 892, making it 893,
and then continued to alter the sequence of years up to and including
annal-number 929.60 Neither the scribe nor the locality of the scripto-
rium can be identified with certainty, but we do know that this
correcting scribe had the numbers in the annals before the copy in
British Library, Cotton MS Otho B. XI was made from MS A at Win-
chester between 1001–1013.61 The ‘corrections’ are unsightly, made
by a sloppy, unskilled hand. Accordingly, then, it may be reasonable

to see the operation as carried out by someone relatively untrained in
writing. The point worth noticing, however, is how the corrector
turned to the framework of annals for guidance. The distinction here is
telling: scribe 2 copied his exemplar but omitted to erase existing
annal-numbers; the corrector altered a series of annal-numbers but
omitted to consult the text. The fact that the corrector did not (or could
not) read the text may indicate a foreign scribe. But perhaps we need
not go so far. The stint of correction is perfunctory, I think, merely
working at a glance to bring order to the sequence of annals.
Conclusions
The object of this paper has been to consider the number of
alternatives in matters of chronology in the ASC. The ASC may be
considered to embody several different chronologies which have been
combined to form one (seemingly) coherent narrative. The appearance
of annals gives the misleading impression of a single, continuous
work, originating in an ancient past, then marching forward in the
order of time. Upon closer inspection, however, the text of the ASC
hides several inconsistencies beneath its fabric. Traces of older chron-
ologies can help us to catch a glimpse of the patchwork of compilation
wherein the cohesion of different systems produces, in due course, the
synthesis of narrative and time.
Notes
1
For much guidance and invaluable discussion at various stages in the process of
production, let the kindness of Juliana Dresvina, Christopher de Hamel, Mark Hurn,
Susan Kelly, Simon Keynes, Erik Kooper, Bernard Muir, Jane Roberts, Rebecca
Rushforth, Peter Stokes, and Simon Thomas be gratefully recorded; any errors are of
course my own responsibility.
2
For a general introduction to the manuscript: Gneuss (2001: no. 52), Ker (1957: no.
39); also Flower and Smith (1941), Plummer (1892-99: II, xxiii-xxvii), Bately (1986:
xxiii-cxxvii).
3
Dr Christopher de Hamel, Gaylord Donnelley Fellow Librarian, Corpus Christi
College, Cambridge, kindly made this suggestion at an exhibition of chronicles put
together for the Cambridge International Chronicles Symposium 2008.
4
Secondary literature bearing on the chronology is extensive; listed here is a selection
of works which provides an essential starting point for investigation of the sources:
Whitelock (1952: cxxxix-cxliii), also Beaven (1918: 328-42), Angus (1938: 194-210),
Vaughan (1954: 59-66).
76 Nicholas Sparks
5
For an account of the tradition: Whitelock, EHD, pp. 109-38; also Keynes, (forth-
coming), this was kindly communicated to me by Professor S. D. Keynes.
6
The are two types of proof, of which the second was unknown to Plummer: (i) the
chronological dislocation of the annals 756–842 which exists in the surviving manu-
scripts but was not present in the version used by the twelfth-century compiler of the
Annals of St. Neots (Plummer 1899: II, xxvii, xciv, cii-civ); (ii) the omission by all the
extant manuscripts of a sentence lost by homoioteleuton but present in the Chronicle
of Æthelweard under the annal for 885 (Stenton 1970: 111-12).
7
Of the lower limit of the compilation of the original ASC-text, it is worth noting
Dorothy Whitelock’s observation that ‘it is reasonable to date the compilation of the
Chronicle as taking place during the late 880s’ for ‘it gives no impression it was
compiled in haste for immediate use’ (Whitelock unpublished: ch. 19). See also the
important recent studies: Bately (1980a: esp. 109-16; 1985: 7-26), Keynes (forth-
coming), Asser-KL (esp. 39-44, 275-81).
8
For the putative first, or original, form of the ASC-text (the so-called ‘common
stock’) propounded by Plummer, that is, the theory on the existence of an original text
of the ASC which gave rise to the hypothesis that there once existed a single copy, or
archetype, called by him ‘æ’ (descending from an autograph, pre-archetype ‘Æ’),
from which all other texts were copied or derived. Conversely, then, the original, or
common recension of the ASC-text was supposedly capable of reconstruction from
collation of the medieval manuscripts (see Plummer 1899: xxiii, cii-cxiv, and cxvii).
9
There is no proof linking Alfred or his circle directly with the compilation of the
ASC, but the circumstances do not speak against it. In regard to the Alfredian
connexion, see Bately (1978: 127-29), and also Keynes (forthcoming).
10
Stenton (1970) accounted for the problem of circulation by proposing a model ‘in
imitation of the practice which the king was known to have adopted for the circulation
of his own works’, but whether an ealdorman or thegn of the ninth century had suf-
ficient resources to execute such a plan is questionable. Bately proposed an alternative
that could bridge the gap between private compilation and public record, which, of
course, raises again the problem of Alfred’s involvement (Bately 1980a: 129).
11
That Asser used a version of the Chronicle for the biography of King Alfred which
was written in 893, is certain (Asser-KL: 41-42, 55-56, 275-81; see also Asser-S: lxxi-
lxxiv, lxxxv-lxxxviii).
12
For the complicated history of the West-Saxon Genealogical Regnal List and its
relation to the Chronicle, see Sisam (1990: esp. 190-92); but cf. Dumville (1985: esp.
32-33, n.33).
13
Wynn (1956: 77, n.28); but cf. Clark, who argues that stylistic continuity is main-
tained in the whole Alfredian section (1971: esp. 215-21).
14
Bately (1979a: 237; 1980a: esp. 98-101). The idea of a ‘two-stage compilation’
seems unnecessarily limited while the previous history of the work is still unclear.
15
Sisam saw the genealogy of Æthelwulf as late and artificial (1990: 190-92); see also
Keynes (1986: 197-98).
16
There have been numerous proponents of a pre-Alfredian compilation, although the
theory was hardly taken up in the second half of the twentieth century: Chadwick
(1907: 27); see also Wheeler (1921: 161-71), Hodgkin (1952: 624), Harrison (1971:
527-33), Stenton (1971/2: 118-19), Gransden (1974: 37).
17
Plummer’s knowledge of the Historia Ecclesiastica provided the first real insight
into Bede’s influence on the ASC (1899: II, lxi, lxix, xci, cxiii); see also Grubitz
(1868), Bately (1979a: 233-54).
18
For discrepancies arising from notices mistakenly entered from an Easter table
using the obsolete era of Victorius of Aquitane, see Chadwick (1907: 24, n.1).
19
Hodgkin (1952: 624-27), and also Plummer (1899: II, cvi-cviii); but cf. Bately, who
is against the idea and rejects Alfredian authorship (1979b: 189-92; 1980b: lxxxiii-
lxxxvi).
20
For problems arising from the comparison of the West-Saxon Genealogical Regnal
List with the ASC, see Plummer (1899: II, lxxix-xc, 2-3); also Dumville (1985: 21-
66).
21
For discussion of sources before the ASC, see Dumville (1976: 23-50); also Keynes
(2005: 47-67).
22
Localisation is contentious but Winchester is uneasily accepted, cf. Ker (1957: lvii-
lix, 58-59); also Bishop (1964-68: 248), Bately (1986: xxxiii). For the scriptorium of
Nunnaminister, Winchester: Parkes (1976: 158; 2003: 171-85); but cf. Dumville, who
rejects Parkes’ evidence for Nunnaminister but accepts the possibility of the Old
Minister (1992: ch. 3; 1987: 163-64).
23
Older pagination exists to fol. 32v, or p. 66: in Parkerian red crayon as far as fol.
17r. The present folio 1r is paginated 3 by Parker, indicating that the first leaf, now
lost, was present in the sixteenth century. The contents of the missing leaf are sug-
gested by the description in the so-called Parker Register (Corpus Christi College MS.
575, p. 62) under the pressmark S.11 (‘Annales Saxon. Ecclie. Cant. Leges Aluredi
regis’, where the (old) incipit is listed as ‘Willelm cyng’); see also James (1912:
xxxvii). According to Ker, this leaf contained a writ of William the Conqueror, copied
by Joscelyn into Cotton Vitellius D. VII, fol. 40, and described as ‘Charta libertatum
ejusdem Ecclesiæ (ie. Ecclesiæ Christi Cantuariensi), per R. Guilielmum I. Saxonice.’
The language and the provenance of the writ support the identification (Ker 1957: 57).
For a possible source of the writ: Keynes, apud Bately (1986: xx, n.38).
24
Quires of Irish manuscripts are often made up of a varying numbers of sheets, or
else in quinions, sets of five sheets making ten leaves. Many of the older English
manuscripts are of five sheets. To form a quire, five (or four) sheets are folded, almost
invariably with hair side outside, then pricked in the inner as well as the outer margin,
then ruled in the first recto of the folded quire, then ruled again as needed either on
the hair side recto just before the middle of the quire or on a flesh side recto just after
the middle. Occasionally the quire was turned over and ruled on the last verso, which
was normally a hair side (Brown (unpubl.); also Lowe (CLA 2, vi-viii), Ker (1957:
xxiii-xxv).
25
The various stages of codicological growth require further study. The late addition
of Q. IV is indicated by a series of tenth-century quire signatures: an abraded graph at
the foot of the folio 7v (Q. I), the letter ‘c’ at the foot of folio 25v (Q. III), and the
letter ‘e’ at the foot of folio 42v (Q. VI). What this shows is that Q. I–III and the Laws
(Q. V) were bound together before Q. IV, containing the annals for 924–1070 and the
Acta Lanfranci, was inserted into A. The date is suggested by the lower limit of the
annals for 924–955, which were entered by a single scribe en masse. The addition was
therefore before c.956 (Ker 1957: 58). Dumville restricted the upper limit on the
evidence of the script as Phase III, Square minuscule of the 940s and 950s. Q. IV is
thus assigned by him to 946 x c.956 (1992: 62-66; 1994: 144-51).
78 Nicholas Sparks
26
Folio 14 is curious. According to Parkes, ‘leaves 2 and 7 of the second quire are
two singletons instead of a bifolium. The arrangement of material on this second
singleton (fol. 14) leads us to suspect that it is a cancel’ (1976: 154). The layout of the
annals, the verso especially, is unusually spread out as compared with surrounding
pages, which looked to Bately as if this was a decision made by the scribe in response
to a deletion of material (1980a: 115, n.2).
27
The difference in feel and look between fol. 24 and fol. 25 was observed by Ker in
his review of the facsimile (1942: 116). For the character and affinities of the new
scribe at this point, see Dumville (1992: 78-81, 92, n.186, and 94, n.195).
28
Insular writing supports, either parchment or vellum, are in general thick and hard
with a slightly roughened surface which is suede-like and clinging to the touch, with
hair sides and flesh sides similar in texture and colour made virtually indistinguish-
able by rubbing with pumice or pounce. Continental parchment is typically softer,
paler, and often finely wrinkled, with hair sides more yellow in colour and flesh sides
whiter than Insular membranes (Brown (unpubl.; 1972: 127-35); see also Lowe (CLA
2, vi-vii), Bishop (1971: xii).
29
For the make-up of Insular manuscripts before the Conquest, see Ker (1957: xxiii-
xxv).
30
For treatment of Q. II as a quaternion, that is, a gathering of four sheets folded to
make eight leaves, see Ker (1942: 118; 1957: 58); also Parkes (1976: 150), Bately
(1986: xvi-xvii); as Bately has indicated this was also the preferred collation of T. J.
Brown (1986: xvi, n.19).
31
For treatment of Q. II as quinion, a gathering of five sheets folded to make a quire
of ten leaves (Plummer (1899: II, xxiv), James (1912: I, 395), Thompson et al. (1903-
30, vol. I: 279, pls. 134-36), and also the General Editors of The Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle: A Collaborative Edition (Bately [1986]: clxviii-clxix).
32
The quire of 8 leaves, normal in Anglo-Saxon practice, is often made, not of four
sheets, but of three sheets and two half-sheets. The half-sheets are never placed
outside or in the middle of the quire, but form one of the two inner layers (Ker 1942:
118; 1957: xxiii-xxv).
33
Lowe saw an ‘appalling lack of uniformity’ with regard to the construction of a
normal Insular quire, but where method exists the preference is shown for the quinion,
that is, the gathering of five bifolia, or ten leaves folded (CLA 2, vii).
34
Looking to the future, it may be desirable to conduct ancient, or historical, DNA
analysis, which has been proved valuable for identifying multiple stages of parchment
manufacture, treatment and storage, and if developed further could be used to form
the cornerstone for studies of animal population; for understanding Anglo-Saxon
animal husbandry; and for identifying the provenance of parchments. As yet, this field
is still in its infancy (see Bower et al. 2010; Campana et al. 2010).
35
For a review of the Insular system, see Brown (1993), Barker-Benfield (1978), and
esp. Dumville (1997), Crick (1997: 63-79).
36
Ker (1957: 58), also Bishop (1964-68: 248); for the features and affinities of the
script and particular phases of its development, see the studies listed under the next
note and the references therein.
37
Parkes (1976), p. 158-160; 2003: 172-82); but cf. Dumville (1992: ch. 3; 1987: esp.
163).
38
London, BL, MS. Harley 2965, fol. 40v: prov. Winchester, perhaps Nunnaminster,
by s. ix/x (Gneuss 2001: no. 432). The resemblance of the handwriting to the script of
MS. A to 891 was noticed by Ker, who asked the question (which has remained
unanswered) as to whether the script itself represents a scriptorium type or the hand of
a single scribe working at different dates (1957: lix, 58, 308-9). Parkes went further,
asserting scribal identity (2003: 173, n.11, Plate 30b); but cf. Dumville (1992: ch. 3,
esp. 83-85).
39
Bishop, followed by Parkes, ascribed the second hand of the ‘Trinity Isidore’ (Plate
XIXb) and the restored passages of ‘Corpus Sedulius’ (Plate XIXa) to the same
workshop: Bishop (1964-68: 248), Parkes (1976: 156-62).
40
Bishop, followed by Parkes, identified the Sedulius restorer with the main hand of
A to 891 (Bishop 1964-68: 248), Parkes (1976: esp. 156-59); but cf. Dumville, who
rejects the identification along with the further specimens associated (next note) with
the second hand of ‘Trinity Isidore’ (1992: ch. 3, 84-86).
41
Roper notes the resemblance of the script of the fragment to the second hand of the
‘Trinity Isidore’, but does not equate the scribes (1983: 125-28). Parkes claims scribal
identity, favouring a view of the fragment as an earlier stage in the development of the
same scribe’s handwriting (2003: 173, n.8).
42
As the editors of the New Palaeographical Society have noted of the first hand,
which extends to 891, finishing with the number for 892: ‘Its date is probably not
much, if at all later, and it may be compared with that of a date of a charter of
Eardwulf, dated in 875’ (Thompson et al. 1913-30, vol. I: p. 279, plates. 134-36).
43
Sawyer (1968: no. 1203); also Brooks and Kelly (forthcoming: no. 94), kindly
communicated to me by Dr S. E. Kelly.
44
For the received date of the copy, see Brooks (1984: 170, n.77); but cf. Dumville
(1987: 157, n.52).
45
Plummer thought that from 892 (or a little earlier) the entries are roughly con-
temporary: Plummer (1899: II, xxvii). In his most recent study, Parkes dates the
writing of fols 1r-19v to the reign of Alfred (d. 899) (2008: 133, n.39).
46
Ker dates the original campaign of writing A to s. ix/x (1957: 57); Bately assigns
the first hand to the end of the ninth century or the beginning of the tenth century,
namely, ‘circa 900’ (1986: xxiv-xxv). G. F. Warner, sometime keeper of manuscripts
in the British Museum, dated hands Nos. 1-6, 900 x 930 (apud Plummer 1899: II,
xxvii, n.2).
47
Parker Chronicle, 40, n.14; also Whitelock (1955: 201), Bately (1986: liv).
48
For the possible implications of the scribal division, see Parkes (1976: 170),
Dumville (1992: ch. 3, esp. 90, n.1, and 99-103), Bately (1986: xxx-xxxiv, lv-lvi).
49
Angus (1938: 197); see also Vaughan (1954: 64-66), Dumville (1992: Appendix I).
50
The exception (sa. 792) suggests that the mark was used systematically, but the
significance of its use within annals seems not to have been fully considered. The
punctuation mark occurs intra annales three times: (i) ASC 755 A, in the episode of
Cynewulf and Cyneheard, fol. 10r24, (ii) ASC 855 A, used to divide the genealogy of
Æthelwulf and the amen coda from the accession of his two sons, Æthelbald and
Ethelbert, fol. 13r31, (iii) ASC 871 A used to mark the accession of Alfred, followed
on the next line by a littera notabilior, fol. 14r20 (but cf. Bately 1986: lxii).
51
The movements of the Danes and the Frankish victory at the Battle of Leuven are
reported in the Annals of Fulda, sa. 891, and the death of Suibhne is also in the
Annals of Ulster, sa. 890 (= 891) (Plummer 1899: II, 103-5).
52
For a survey of the chronicles and charters of Western Europe, see Poole (1921:
113-37).
80 Nicholas Sparks
53
Thorogood (1933: passim). For the ensuing period, see Beaven (1918: esp. 328),
Whitelock (1952: cxl-cxli), Vaughan (1954: 59.), Wynn (1956: esp. 74)
54
Hodgkin (1924: 497-510); see also Parker Chronicle, 9-12, but cf. Vaughan, who
found insufficient evidence for Christmas dating (1954: 64-65). Wynn allowed the
possibility of Christmas dating but preferred to see the change of reckoning as the
difference between earlier and contemporary sources (1956: 77-78).
55
For the same inference, drawn rather differently from the evidence, see Parkes
(1976: 154); but cf. Dumville (1992: ch. 3, esp. p. 90).
56
Dumville put forward the theory of scribal collaboration (1992: ch. 3); Bately left
open the possibility of collaboration but identified the work of least three hands in this
part of the manuscript: ‘the question of precisely when scribes 1, 2a, and 2b were
writing also remains unanswered’ (1986: xxx-xxxiv).
57
Mark Hurn at the Institute of Astronomy, University of Cambridge, kindly tells me
that it does not appear that the orbit has been calculated for the comet and it has not
been established that it is periodic (private communication); cf. Stevenson (1898: 73-
74).
58
Annales Alamannici. Annalium Alamannicorum Continuatio Sangallensis, [see
under the relevant annal-number].
59
Annales Laubacenses, [see under the relevant annal-number].
60
Plummer (1899: I, 84, n.1); see also Parker Chronicle, 10, Whitelock (1955: 201,
n.2).
61
Lutz (1981: xxxi-xxxii), Bately (1986: xcviii-xcic), Dumville (1992: ch. 3, 101,
n.217).
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Abbreviations
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ASE = Anglo-Saxon England
CLA = Codices Latini Antiquiores
EETS, OS, SS = Early English Text Society, Original Series, Supplementary Series
EHD = English Historical Documents
EHR = English Historical Review
MGH, SS = Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptores
PBA = Proceedings of the British Academy
TRHS = Transactions of the Royal Historical Society
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FILLING THE GAP: BRUTUS IN THE HISTORIA BRITTONUM,
ANGLO-SAXON CHRONICLE MS F, AND GEOFFREY OF MONMOUTH
Thea Summerfield
Abstract
This article explores the way in which Geoffrey of Monmouth’s
Historia Regum Britanniae refashions the story of Brutus, a late
classical legend recorded by Isidore of Seville, Bede, and the author
of the Historia Brittonum. Using the latter as his source, Brutus, ‘a
man who was hated by all’, was turned by Geoffrey into the glori-
ous, eponymous ancestor of the inhabitants of Britain. In this way
the habitation of the island when Julius Caesar arrived was
explained. However, Geoffrey was not the first to use the Brutus
story from the Historia Brittonum to this explanatory end; an
anonymous scribe of a Canterbury manuscript of the Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle seems to have had the same idea, if not Geoffrey’s
unprecedented literary talents.
Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae has, since it first

became known in the late 1130s, been something of an enigma. Even
by contemporaries there was no consensus as regards its value: Henry
of Huntingdon obviously considered it the best thing he had read for a
long time, and included the pre-Roman section in revisions of his
Historia Anglorum;1 William of Newburgh thought it a pack of evil
lies;2 and Gerald of Wales thought the book brought devils down on
its readers.3 Modern scholars have also varied in their opinions; how-
ever, even though all medievalists recognize the value and originality
of the work, much of its content and purpose remains controversial.4
In this article I intend to draw attention to two aspects of the early,
Brutus-centred part of the work which have, perhaps, not received the
attention they deserve. Both are connected with the Historia Britto-
num (hereafter HB), generally recognized as one of the few identifi-
able sources of Geoffrey’s Historia. My first point concerns an early
manifestation of the use of the HB to fill the historiographical vacuum
before the arrival of Julius Caesar; the second illustrates Geoffrey’s
86 Thea Summerfield
inventive use of the skeletal origin myth featuring Brutus, found in

that source.
The search for origins – of the human race, of a nation or a
dynasty – is shared by communities throughout the world. Searches of
this kind always take the form of narratives that purport to go back
many generations, often to a mythical beginning. This is also the case
in western societies. According to the Bible, Adam and Eve are the
ultimate ancestors of all human beings, but their descendants had, with
the exception of Noah and his family, drowned in the flood. This left a
need for a post-flood ancestor whose name might be linked directly,
that is, by means of etymological proof, to a territory and a communi-
ty, thus adding lustre and legitimacy to them both.
The historiography of the British Isles is rich in origin myths.
Stories abound of eponymous founders: from the Saxon ‘Inge’ who
was said by some to be responsible for the name England, to ‘Albina’
and her murderous sisters, whom we have to thank for the name of
Albion, and the Egyptian princess Scota who gave her name to Scot-
land. However, the most glorious and famous of them all was Brutus,
grandson of Aeneas of Troy, who came to give his name to Britain
and the Britons. It was the story of Brutus as the founder of British
civilization, as it was told by Geoffrey of Monmouth, that was to
prove an enormous influence on the literature and politics of future
centuries.
The myth of Brutus rapidly became widespread after publication
of Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae, written be-
tween 1123 and 1136.5 It is difficult to exaggerate the impact of a
work that survives in 217 manuscripts today, with ‘perhaps a third
written before the end of the century’ (Reeve 2007: vii). The enor-
mous popularity of the work in its own time may safely be attributed
to three prominent characters which set it apart from the works of
other historians and Geoffrey’s contemporaries: Merlin and his pro-
phecies, King Arthur and his conquests, and, certainly not of less
importance, founder Brutus, the grandson of Trojan Aeneas. The book
thus answered several needs: it provided mysterious prophecies which
might still apply; it presented a glorious, all-eclipsing ancestor, some-
one who, but for his treacherous betrayal, would have conquered
Rome, and finally it offered the present population of the island a
most prestigious origin.
Early medieval historians were interested in the story of Troy and
its main protagonists, especially Aeneas. They regarded the Trojans,
in spite of their defeat by the Greeks, in an entirely positive light. It
Filling the Gap 87
has been argued that the reason for this is primarily that the story of
Troy was also the story of Rome: Remus and Romulus, founders of
Rome, were also thought to have descended from the sons of Trojan
Aeneas (Cohen 1941: 10). In his Liber de ratione temporum, we find
that Bede lists both the rulers of Italy before Aeneas of Troy (Ianus,
Saturnus, Picus, Faunus [and] Latinus), and after: Aeneas’ son Asca-
nius, who is said to have founded the city of Alba (‘Ascanius Aeneae
filius Albam urbem condidit’), and the latter’s brother and successor
Silvius, who reigned for twenty-nine years (Mommsen 1898: 261).
The information derives from Isidore of Seville’s excerpted Chronica
Maiora, which was incorporated in the latter’s widely read Etymolo-
giae (Cohen 1941: 82-83). However, Bede does not mention Brutus. It
is in the HB that the eponymous founder of Britain is first mentioned
(HB 19, 60).
Although it was the story-telling and history-bending genius
of Geoffrey of Monmouth that transformed the equivocal account of
the HB into the myth of Britain’s origin that took the western world by
storm, Geoffrey does not deserve the credit so often given him for
having been the first to recognize the inherent value of the Brutus
story in the HB.6 The anonymous author – scribe, editor and compiler
– of manuscript ‘F’ of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, the so-called
Domitian Bilingual, had also recognized the potential of ‘Brutus’ a
few decades earlier, as the tentative entry in the manuscript suggests.
This was first noted by F. R. Magoun in 1945. However, it is only
since Peter Baker’s investigations provided reliable information on the
date of composition and the author’s methods that the relation of the
Brutus entry in it and Geoffrey of Monmouth’s work may be properly
examined (Magoun 1945: 65-72, esp. 70-71, and also 1947: 178-
80; Baker 2000: lvii). It is therefore to the Historia Brittonum and
MS F of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle that we must turn first.
Historia Brittonum
The ancient history of Britain, known as the Historia Brittonum, was
compiled, according to N. J. Higham, in Northern Wales around 830
(2002: 6). It survives in nine recensions, the youngest dating from the
first half of the fourteenth century (Dumville 1985: 40, 53). The work
consists of a mixture of short enumerative chapters as well as longer,
narrative episodes, selected ‘to enhance the standing of the British
people and its rulers in various ways’ (Higham 2002: 126). It is a
‘synchronising history’, an attempt at an account of a period ‘by com-
bining all the available, and often wildly contradictory, witnesses into
88 Thea Summerfield
a slick, coherent and “official” whole’ (Dumville 1986: 5-6). For our
purposes it is the earliest, primary recension preserved in British
Library, MS Harley 3859, that is particularly important, as it is the
text in this manuscript, or a closely related text, that was used by both
Geoffrey of Monmouth7 and the anonymous scribe of the Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle.8
The text which survives in MS Harley 3859 begins with a time-
scale between major biblical events (Adam to the Flood, 2,242 years,
Flood to Abraham, 942 years etc.), followed by a list of the six ages of
the world. Next it is briefly and factually stated that ‘the island of
Britain is so called from one Brutus, a Roman consul’ (‘Brittania
insula a quodam Bruto, consule Romano, dicta’; HB 18, 59). The so-
called ‘Vatican’ recension, dated 943/4 (Dumville 1985: 4), explains
in more detail at this stage who this Brutus was: the son of Lavinia,
daughter of the king of Italy, and Silvius Posthumus, one of Aneas’
sons who was born in a wood (hence Silvius) after Aeneas’ death
(hence Posthumus) (HB-Vat. 64-65).
The text in MS Harley 3859 continues immediately after the
reference to Brutus the Roman consul with a brief geographical
description of the island and the four nations living in it: the Irish,
Picts, Saxons and British. Next follows a description of Britain’s three
islands (Wight, Man, Orkney), and a description of its rivers. Sub-
sequently the author broaches the question of ‘when this island was
inhabited’ and states that he has found two, alternative explanations
(in fact, as we shall see below, he even offers a third explanation at a
later stage). One has already been mentioned (Brutus, the Roman
consul), the second follows in a rather more narrative section than has
been mentioned hitherto. Referring to annalibus romanorum as its
source, it tells the story of the birth and exile of a boy called Britto. It
runs as follows (for the full Latin text, see Appendix I). After the fall
of Troy Aeneas flees to Italy with his son Ascanius, and becomes
‘king of the Romans and the Latins’ on the death of his father-in-law
Latinus. A second marriage yields another son, Silvius. When told that
Silvius’ wife is pregnant,
[Aeneas] sent word to his son Ascanius, to send a wizard to examine

the wife, to discover what she had in the womb, whether it was male or
female. The wizard examined the wife and returned, but he was killed
by Ascanius because of his prophecy, for he told him that the woman
had a male in her womb, who would be the child of death, for he would
kill his father and his mother and be hateful to all men [erit exosus
omnibus hominibus]. So it happened; for his mother died in his birth,
Filling the Gap 89
and the boy was reared, and named Britto. Much later, according to the
wizard’s prophecy, when he was playing with others, he killed his
father with an arrow shot, not on purpose, but by accident. (HB 19, 60)
Next follows the story of the voyages of this Brutus exosus, first
to Greece, then to Gaul where the city of Tours is founded, and finally
to ‘this island, which is named Britannia from his name, and [he]
filled it with his race and dwelt there. From that day Britain has been
inhabited until the present day’.9
In the Vatican recension there is less confusion and ambiguity.
From the start the boy is called Brutus (‘Et nutritus est filius, uoca-
tumque est nomen eius Bruto’) and is conflated with the Roman
consul, who is said to have first subjected the Spanish and afterwards
to have occupied the island of Britain (‘Et postea tenuit Bryttaniam
insulam quam habitabant Bryttones’); his parentage is also clarified
and linked to Silvius Posthumus, the distant past and the Romans (HB-
Vat. 65). It is clear that the ‘Britto’ of the Harleian recension refers to
the man who elsewhere (and later) became known as Brutus.
By his own account the author of the HB continued to search for
the truth about Brutus, for in a later chapter (§ 17) Brutus is mentioned
again. The author writes:
I found another explanation about Brutus [de isto Bruto] in the old
books of our elders. The three sons of Noah divided the world into three
parts after the Flood. Sem extended his boundaries in Asia, Ham in
Africa, Japheth in Europe. The first man who came to Europe was
Alanus, of the race of Japheth, with his three sons, whose names are
Hessitio, Armenon, and Negue. Hessitio had four sons, Francus, Roma-
nus, Britto and Albanus …. From Hessitio derive four peoples, the
Franks, the Latins, the Albans and the British.10
The information is repeated in the next chapter, which provides

the genealogy in reverse order: ‘The first inhabitants of Britain were
the British, from Brutus. Brutus was the son of Hessitio, son of
Alanus’ and so on to the sons of Japheth, son of Noah, son of Lamech’
(HB 22, 63). This information ‘derived ultimately from a table of
nations’, according to Higham, who points out that the putative kin-
ship of the British with the Franks and particularly the Romans in this
origin story ‘conferred military and moral status and … makes a
powerful claim for inclusion as a chosen people of the Lord’ (Higham
2002: 124).
However, it was not this genealogy of Brutus that would cause
waves in the literature and historiography of the twelfth and later
90 Thea Summerfield
centuries. That role was reserved for the curious account of the Brutus
who, as the wizard consulted by Ascanius had predicted, was hateful
to all men, even though he hardly seems an ancestor to be proud of.
Nevertheless, the story appealed to at least one other person before
Geoffrey of Monmouth, someone situated in Canterbury and engaged
in compiling one of the manuscripts of the ASC.
The F text of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle

The ASC is, of course, remarkable in North-West Europe for having
been written in English, whereas Latin was used elsewhere for annal-
istic and historiographical works.11 There is, however, one version of
the ASC which presents a more complicated linguistic situation: ASC
MS F. Embedded in a composite manuscript of 174 folios, this version
is usually referred to as the ‘Domitian Bilingual’, a term which com-
bines part of the Cottonian shelf-mark and a reference to the fact that
in this manuscript entries are mostly given in English first, with a
Latin translation immediately following. The Old English and the
Latin texts do not always contain exactly the same information; Baker
concludes that ‘this scribe does not appear to have required that his
Old English and Latin texts match precisely’ (lxii-lxviii, here lxv).
The annals are preceded by a prologue, the first part of which is in
English with a Latin translation; the second is in Latin only, although
space for an English translation is provided. It is with this part of the
(untranslated) prologue that we are primarily concerned.
According to its most recent editor Peter Baker, internal evidence
suggests that MS F was written between 1100 and 1107, ‘possibly
later, but in any case not before 1100’ (2000: lxxvi). Its author may
have been cantor at Christ Church, Canterbury, a function which en-
compassed that of librarian, historian, hagiographer and keeper of
records. Certainly his interest in matters concerning Christ Church is
evident throughout (lxxvi-lxxxi). The manuscript as it survives ap-
pears to have been the work of one man, the ‘F-scribe’; he was the
editor of the Old English text, the translator of the Latin and the
compiler of the whole (lxvii-lxviii).
The text was based on an exemplar of MS E of the ASC, but
filled out ‘with more than a hundred annals from more than twenty
sources, including histories, chronicles, charters and saints’ lives’
(Baker 2000: lxix). The surviving manuscript is ‘a compact book,
which the scribe could easily have carried with him’; it may have
served him as ‘a historical vade mecum, always ready to receive an
entry or two if he [the person who wrote, translated and compiled the
Filling the Gap 91
manuscript] should encounter any interesting history or chronicle

while stealing a moment in the library of Worcester, Ramsey, or some
other establishment’ (Baker 2000: lxxv). Occasionally documents in
Latin are inserted, as for the year 742; in that case the English trans-
lation of the Latin document was probably written on a loose sheet of
parchment, to be included in the fair copy that was never made or is
no longer extant. The loose sheet with the translation subsequently
(and predictably) was lost. Elsewhere, in the annal for the year 806, a
small drawing illustrates the sign of the cross that could be seen in the
sky.
The annalistic part of the chronicle is preceded by a prologue. It
begins in Old English with a description of Britain, the peoples living
there, their origins and the arrival of the Romans (ASC-F 1). The in-
formation is evenly spaced and fills two pages of twenty-one lines
each (Fac F, fols. 30r and v). It is very close to the text as it survives
in MS E. Next this information is repeated in Latin, in a fairly close
translation to which a few clauses explaining causation have been
added. Each is taken verbatim from Bede’s Ecclesiastical History.12
The passage ends with the statement that among the Picts to this day
succession in the female line is customary. In the manuscript a large
space is then left open between the four-and-a-half lines at the top and
three lines at the bottom of the page. In this space, but not filling it
completely, the scribe has scribbled a passage beginning ‘In annalibus
Romanorum scriptum est’ (See Illustration, Fac F, fol.31v.). As Baker
notes, ‘The scribe left a blank space for this lengthy passage, which he
inserted later in ink that has now faded badly’ (2000: 2, n.2). It offers
a foundation myth featuring Brutus which exhibits close verbal
parallels with the ‘Harleian Recension’ of the HB, but has been
slightly abbreviated.13
In MS F the passage runs as follows (for the Latin text, see
Appendix I): after the Trojan war Eneas founds the city of Alba and
marries. When his son Silvius’ wife is pregnant, Eneas, desiring to
know if the child is male or female, consults a wizard (magus) and is
told that the child will kill both its father and its mother. The child is
called Brittus. The prediction is fulfilled: the mother dies in childbirth,
the father is killed accidentally by his son’s arrow while the latter is
playing with other children. Exiled from Italy, Brittus visits Gaul and
founds the city of Tours, after which he goes to an island which is
called Britannia after him. Next we are told that he leads an army from
Africa to the West, and then the focus is on Britain again: there are 28
cities there and innumerable promontories and castles made from
92 Thea Summerfield
stone and brick. Four peoples (genera hominum) live there: Scots,
Picts, Saxons and Britons. There are also three large islands: the Isle
of Wight, the Isle of Man and, to the extreme north, the Orkneys.
Clearly the author used chapters 10, 7 and 8 from the HB for this
information.
When compared with the Harley 3859 text of the HB, we see that
MS F presents a slightly abbreviated version. The information about
Aeneas’ journey to Italy, his marriage to Lavinia and the names of his
sons, among whom Ascanius, is lacking, but often the two texts run
parallel; compare, for example:
Aeneas autem Albam condidit et postea uxorem duxit, et peperit ei
filium nomine Silvium. (HB)
Eneas post Troianum bellum Albam condidit. Postea uero uxorem
duxit, que peperit ei filium, et nomen eius uocavit Siluium. (MS F)
Next follows the story of the wizard called in to predict if the

baby that Silvius’ wife is expecting is male or female. He tells them
that it is a boy who will kill both his father and his mother. In the HB
the wizard is killed by Ascanius. In MS F, the wizard goes to Asca-
nius’ house to tell him the news, even though Ascanius has not been
mentioned yet. Both texts refer to the baby as Britto. The story of how
mother and father die is the same in substance, the account of the
conquests in Gaul is much reduced, but the sentence telling of the
arrival in Britain is largely identical again:
Et postea ad istam pervenit insulam, quae a nomine suo accepit nomen,
id est Brittaniam. (HB)
Postea ad istam peruenit insulam, que ab eo nominata est Brittannia.
(MS F)
MS F then proceeds with the description of natural features and

buildings in Britain, found in two slightly earlier entries of the HB
(see below, Appendix II), and the first of the annals, recording the
arrival of Julius Caesar in Britain in A.D. 60.
What we see, then, is that before Geoffrey presented his own
elaborate account hung on the framework that he found in the Harley
3859 version of the HB, an earlier scribe, who clearly had access to
the same or a nearly identical manuscript, also found the story of
Brutus suitable as the beginning of a record of events in England,
however tentatively presented.14 Yet it was Geoffrey’s enormous
powers of embellishment that would really bring the story to life.
Filling the Gap 93
Geoffrey of Monmouth
Geoffrey of Monmouth’s attitude towards the HB was one of great
freedom: he seems to have regarded the older text as a skeletal nar-
rative framework with almost endless potential for elaboration and
remaniement. It resulted in a complete make-over of Brutus, from
someone who would be hateful to all men (‘et erit exosus omnibus
hominibus’) to a glorious leader of men. To achieve this, the basic
story of Brutus from the son expected by Silvius’ wife to Brutus’
arrival in Britain, was expanded from the c.270 words of the HB to
some 4,000 words, filled with incident and emotion.
The often lurid colours added to the basic narrative by Geoffrey
may concern particular details as well as large interpolations. Small,
but telling details are, for example, found at the beginning of the story.
Where the HB states factually that Silvius married a wife who became
pregnant (‘Silvius autem uxorem duxit, et gravida fuit’), Geoffrey
adds passion: Silvius, indulging in a secret passion (‘furtiuae ueneri
indulgens’; HRB 7, 54), marries and makes Lavinia’s niece, later
referred to as a girl (‘puella’, line 56) pregnant. Where the HB men-
tions one wizard to discover the child’s sex, Geoffrey mentions a
plurality: magicians (‘magi’, line 57) who predict not only that the
child will kill its father and mother, but also that he will ‘wander many
lands in exile and in the end receive the highest honour’ (‘pluribus
quoque terris in exilium peragratis ad summum tandem culmen
honoris perueniret’; HRB 8, 58-59). The important fact that this was
Brutus exosus, hateful to all men for having killed his mother and
father, is suppressed by Geoffrey, who instead adds to his source a
hint of future glory.
After Brutus’ exile from Italy the interpolations become more
extensive. Like the HB, Geoffrey has Brutus travel to Greece where
Brutus turns out to be a charismatic leader of men and a fighter for
freedom and justice. In Greece he discovers a community of exiled
Trojans held in slavery, who had been taken from Troy, as Geoffrey
writes, in chains. Brutus soon shows what he is made of:
Agnita igitur ueterum coniuium prosapia, moratus est Brutus apud
eos. In tantum autem militia et probitate uigere coepit ita ut a regibus et
principibus prae omni iuuentute patriae amaretur; erat enim inter
sapientes sapiens, inter bellicosos bellicosus, et quicquid auri uel argen-
ti siue ornamentorum adquirebat totum militibus erogabat. Diuulgata
itaque per uiuversas nationes ipsius fama, Troiani coeperunt ad eum
confluere, orantes ut ipso duce a seruitute Graecorum liberarentur, …
(HRB 9, 70-77).
94 Thea Summerfield
(Once Brutus learned of their descent from his ancient countrymen, he

lived among them. He began to manifest so much soldierly prowess and
virtue that their kings and chiefs loved him above all the youths in that
country; to wise men he displayed his wisdom, to warriors his aggres-
sion and, whenever he acquired gold, silver or ornaments, he used to
present everything to his men. As Brutus’ fame spread through every
land, Trojans began to flock to him, asking him that he be their leader
and free them from bondage to the Greeks; HRB 8)
Subsequently all the Trojans, seven thousand men as well as

women and children, are led away by Brutus to live in the woods and
the hills, in freedom. A letter sent by Brutus to Pandrasus, king of the
Greeks, states that he and his people ‘preferred to eke out their lives
eating meat and grass like wild beasts, rather than to enjoy every
delicacy, while still enduring the yoke of slavery to you’ (‘praeferebat
namque ferino ritu, carnibus uidelicet et herbis, uitam cum libertate
sustenare quam uniuersis deliciis refocillata diutus sub iugo seruitutis
tuae permanere’; HRB 8-9, 95-96). Protracted accounts of bloody
battles against the Greeks follow; surprising sleeping opponents in
their tents is presented as a clever stratagem. Pandrasus, captured and
facing a nasty death, agrees to provide Brutus with gold, silver, corn
and ships and to give him the hand of his daughter in marriage, with
the words: ‘Though I am reluctant to agree to your terms, yet I derive
some consolation from marrying my daughter to a young man of such
prowess’ (‘Quamquam tamen inuitus praeceptis uestris oboediam,
solatium habere uideor quia filiam meam tantae probitatis adolescenti
daturus sum’; HRB 16-17, 251-53). Praise from the enemy is praise
indeed.
Encouraged by the appearance of the goddess Diana in a vision-
ary dream in Diana’s temple on the deserted island of Leogetia, Brutus
sets sail to ‘an island of the ocean, surrounded by the sea … where
giants once lived, but [that] is now deserted’ (‘insula in oceano … est
habitata gigantibus olim, nunc deserta’; HRB 20-21, 306-8), picking
up some descendants of the Trojan diaspora on the way. Their leader
is Corineus, who is famous for what will prove to be very useful: it is
said that ‘if he met a giant, Corineus could overcome him at once, as if
he were fighting a child’ (‘qui si cum aliquo gigante congressum
faceret, ilico obruebat eum ac si cum puero contenderet’; HRB 20-21,
332-33). Finally, after more fighting in Aquitaine, Brutus and his men
decide to sail for the island that was promised Brutus in the prophecy,
and come ashore at Totnes (HRB 26-27, 449-52). There they find that
not all the giants have been exterminated; one giant in particular, who
Filling the Gap 95
could pull an oak tree out of the ground as if it were a twig of hazel
(HRB 28-29, 471-72), called Goemagog, is a serious threat. However,
with the help of giant-slayer Corineus they make short work of him,
too. Thus civilization is brought to the wilderness. However, for the
giants Geoffrey had to turn to other sources, the Old and New Testa-
ment among them; the giants do not feature in the HB (Scherb 2002:
59-85, esp. 60-68).
In this way Brutus exosus is transformed from a man hated by all
into a brave and generous leader and a worthy ancestor, a man to be
proud of for himself and for all his noble offspring, a founder of a new
nation. His followers, too, are transformed: from exiled Trojans on the
run into Britons, the legitimate inhabitants of a new country, speaking
a language ‘previously known as Trojan or “crooked Greek” …
henceforth called British’ (‘Vnde postmodum loquela gentis, quae
prius Troiana siue cruum Graecum nuncupabatur, dicta fuit britan-
nica’; HRB 28-29, 461-62). The short and factual story of Brutus in
the HB, reshaped by Geoffrey of Monmouth into a story full of colour,
wonder, intrigue, noise and, ultimately, pride, was to have an enorm-
ous impact on all later historical narratives and historically inspired
politics.15
Modern and early modern authors alike have maligned the prac-
tice of tracing dynastic beginnings to a noble, legendary ancestor; as
Webster puts it, such stories ‘appear to us more like a misconceived
byway to be followed only by the lunatic fringe’ than as something
with which serious historians would want to be associated (Webster
1975: 19). Erasmus, too, is harsh in his In Praise of Folly (1511) when
he comments on fools who consider themselves the descendants of
Aeneas, Brutus or Arthur (ch. 42). Nevertheless, the practice was
widespread and was to have a long life yet. Even King James I in the
seventeenth century used the legend to argue in favour of the unity of
Scotland and England (Kennedy 1996: xx.).
The appearance of Brutus in the two early twelfth-century texts
discussed here has possibly been the result of a more or less seren-
dipitous discovery by Geoffrey of Monmouth and the compiler of ASC
MS F of the same or a similar copy of the text of the HB. For although
there is evidence of the text’s influence throughout the medieval West
(Dumville 1986: 26), not all English historiographers in the early
twelfth century – contemporaries of Geoffrey of Monmouth – were
familiar with it. William of Malmesbury, who, by his own account,
travelled widely in his assiduous search for material for his Gesta
Regum Anglorum (c.1125), makes no mention of it, nor indeed of
96 Thea Summerfield
legends featuring Brutus. As William does refer to legendary material

concerning King Arthur, we may safely assume that the absence of
Brutus is due to the fact that he found no reference to him, rather than
to a dislike of legendary history. As previously noted, Henry of
Huntingdon also seems not to have known the story of Brutus until he
came across a copy of Geoffrey of Monmouth’s History in 1139.
William of Newburgh, writing in the second half of the twelfth
century, was probably also ignorant of the existence of the HB;
although he reviles Geoffrey’s work in his Preface, he only refers to
Gildas and Bede as sources for early history.
Whatever the nature of the discovery, both the scribe of ASC MS
F and Geoffrey of Monmouth recognized the importance as well as
the potential of the Brutus story in the Historia Brittonum. However, it
was Geoffrey’s enormous literary talent and his capacity for recon-
structing something entirely new and captivating from very slight and
unpromising material that closed the gap for many centuries to come.
Notes
1
When compiling his Historia Anglorum in the 1120s, Henry of Huntingdon appears
not to have been familiar with the Historia Brittonum or the Brutus story. When he
was shown a copy of the Historia Regum Britanniae on a visit to Bec in 1139, he was
by all accounts bowled over by the Brutus story (see Wright 1991). He subsequently
incorporated it into his Historia Anglorum, using the so-called Vatican Recension of
the Historia Brittonum (see Greenway 1996: 24-27, and 558-61).
2
‘No one but a person ignorant of ancient history, when he meets with that book
which he calls the History of the Britons, can for a moment doubt how impertinently
and impudently he falsifies in every respect. For he only who has not learnt the truth
of history[,] indiscreetly believes the absurdity of fable. I omit this man's inventions
concerning the exploits of the Britons previous to the government of Julius Caesar, as
well as the fictions of others which he has recorded, as if they were authentic.’
William of Newburgh’s History, ‘Preface’, § 3, quoted from the on-line edition, avail-
able at: www.fordham.edu/halsall/basis/williamofnewburgh-intro.html. Unfortunate-
ly, P. G. Walsh and M. J. Kennedy, ed., trans, and comm, William of Newburgh: The.
History of English Affairs, Medieval Latin Texts (Warminster, 1988), a new edition of
Book I, was not available to me.
3
‘If the Gospel [of St John] were afterwards removed and the History of the Kings of
Britain by Geoffrey of Monmouth put there in its place, just to see what would
happen, the demons would alight all over his body, and on the book, too, staying there
longer than usual and being even more demanding’ (Thorpe 1978: 117-18).
4
For example, cf. Flint (1979), Gillingham (1990 ), and Stein (2006: 106-25).
5
The date is according to Reeve (2007: vii). All references are to this edition by page
and – for the Latin text – line number.
6
As in Mathey-Maille: ‘La trouvaille est astucieuse’ (1997: 113).
Filling the Gap 97
7
Thorpe (1966: 15): ‘It is now accepted that he [= Geoffrey of Monmouth; TS] had at
his disposal something closely related to MS. Harl. 3859 in the British Museum, the
contents of which are Nennius’ Historia Brittonum with the Cities and Marvels of
Britain, the Annales Cambriae and the medieval Welsh king-lists and genealogies.’
8
References are to the edition and translation by John Morris (1980). Morris printed
the text of Faral (1929, according to Dumville (1986: 3-4) the best edition of Harley
3859 available so far) with ‘some corrections of substance and additional passages
supplied from Mommsen’s edition’ (Introductory Note by R. B. White in Nennius
1980). These additional passages, clearly marked by Morris and not found in either
the Harleian or Chartres manuscripts (the latter also printed by Faral) have not been
taken into account.
9
‘Et postea ad istam pervenit insulam, quae a nomine suo accepit nomen, id est
Brittaniam, et inplevit eam cum suo genere, et habitavit ibi. Ab illo autem die habitata
est Brittania usque in hodiernum diem’ (HB 19, 60).
10
HB 22, 63. In the Vatican recension the passage is found in § 7 (HB-Vat 71-72);
instead of ‘Britto’ the text has (declined forms of) ‘Brutus’.
11
The manuscript of the ASC commonly cited as ‘E’ occasionally includes Latin
entries, for example, in the annals for the years 800 and 810; MS I switches to Latin
with the entry to the year 1110 (Garmondsway 1953: 59, 270-72).
12
It concerns the information that the Picts landed first in Northern Ireland because
that was the way the wind blew (‘circumagente flatu ventorum’), and that they were
advised by the Scots to move to an island which can be seen on clear days (‘quam
sepe lucidioribus diebus de longe aspicere solemus’). Also, it is explained that there
was a shortage of women, and hence wives, among the Picts (‘cumque uxores non
habentes’) and that preference should be given to succession in the female line when
in doubt (‘ut ubi res venirent in dubium’) (cf. Bede, HE 18).
13
Baker notes that ‘A full understanding of the textual relations of the copy of the
Historia used by the F-scribe must await further editorial work on the various
recensions of the text’ (2000: lvii).
14
A further use of the Historia Brittonum by the F-scribe is found at 379, on the
arrival of St Germanus in Britain, for which he used chapters 31-32 (Baker 2000:
lvii).
15
See, for instance, Summerfield (2005) and references cited there.
Bibliography
Primary Sources
The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. A Collaborative Edition. I. Facsimile of MS F: the
Domitian Bilingual. Ed. David Dumville. Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 1995.
Referred to as ‘Fac-F’, followed by fol. number.
–––. VIII. MS. F: A semi-diplomatic edition with introduction and indices. Ed. Peter
S. Baker. Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 2000. Referred to as ‘ASC-F’, followed by
page number.
The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. Trans. G. N. Garmondsway. London: Dent, 1953.
[Bede] Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People. Ed. Bertram Colgrave and
R. A. B. Mynors. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969. Referred to as Bede,
HE, followed by page number of the Latin text.
98 Thea Summerfield
–––. ‘Liber de Tempore Ratione.’ In Chronica Minora Saec. IV, V, VI, VII. Ed.
Theodorus Mommsen. Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Berlin: Weidmannos,
1898.
Erasmus, Desiderius. Lof der Zotheid. Met de tekeningen van Hans Holbein uit het
Baselse exemplaar van 1515. Vertaald, geannoteerd en ingeleid door Petty
Bange. Nijmegen: Uitgeverij SUN, 2000.
Gerald of Wales. The Journey through Wales / The Description of Wales. Trans.
Lewis Thorpe. Harmondsworth: Penguin Classics, 1978.
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Greenway. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002.
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trans. Neil Wright. Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2007. Referred to as HRB,
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–––. The History of the Kings of Britain. Trans. Lewis Thorpe. Harmondsworth:
Penguin Classics, 1966.
[Nennius] La Légende Arthurienne. Etudes et Documents. 3 vols. Ed. Edmond Faral.
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–––. British History and The Welsh Annals. Ed. and trans. John Morris. Arthurian
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intro.html.
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VIII.
Cohen, Adolf Emile (1941). De Visie op Troje van de Westerse Middeleeuwse
Geschiedschrijvers tot 1160. Diss. Leiden. Assen: Van Gorcum & Comp.
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‘Vatican’ Recension.
–––, ed. (1995). See The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. A Collaborative Edition. I. Fac-
simile of MS F.
––– (1986). ‘The Historical Value of the Historia Brittonum.’ Arthuriana 6: 1-26.
Faral, Edmond, ed. (1929). See [Nennius].
Flint, Valerie I. J. (1979). ‘The Historia Regum Britanniae of Geoffrey of Monmouth:
Parody and its Purpose. A Suggestion.’ Speculum 54: 447-68.
Garmondsway, G. N., trans. (1953). See The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle.
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History of the Kings of Britain.’ Anglo-Norman Studies 13: 99-118.
Higham, H. J. (2002). King Arthur. Myth-making and History. London: Routledge.
Kennedy, Edward Donald (1996). ‘Introduction’. In King Arthur: A Casebook, ed. E.
D. Kennedy. New York: Garland. Pp. xiv-xxi.
Filling the Gap 99
Magoun Jr., F. P. (1945). ‘The Domitian Bilingual of the Old English Annals: the
Latin Preface.’ Speculum 20: 65-72.
––– (1947). ‘Brutus and English Politics’. A Journal of English Literary History 14:
178-80.
Mathey-Maille, Laurence (1997). ‘Mythe Troyen et Histoire Romaine: de Geoffrey de
Monmouth au Brut de Wace.’ In: Entre Fiction et Histoire: Troie et Rome au
Moyen Age. Etudes recueillies par Emmanuèle Baumgartner et Laurence Harf-
Lancner. Paris: Presses de la Sorbonne Nouvelle, 113-23.
Morris, John, ed. (1980). See Nennius. British History and The Welsh Annals.
Reeve, Michael D., ed. (2007). See Geoffrey of Monmouth. The History of the Kings
of Britain.
Scherb, Victor I. (2002). ‘Assimilating Giants: The Appropriation of Gog and Magog
in Medieval and early Modern England.’ Journal of Meieval and early Modern
Studies 32: 59-84.
Stein, Robert M. (2006). Reality Fictions. Romance, History, and Governmental
Authority, 1025-1180. Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press.
Summerfield, Thea (2005). ‘The Testimony of Writing. Pierre de Langtoft and the
Appeals to History, 1291-1306.’ In The Scots and Medieval Arthurian Legend.
Ed. Rhiannon Purdie and Nicola Royan. Arthurian Studies 61. Cambridge: D.
S. Brewer. Pp. 25-41.
Webster, Bruce (1975). Scotland from the Eleventh Century to 1603. Studies in the
Uses of Historical Evidence. London: The Sources of History.
Wright, Neil (1991). ‘The Place of Henry of Huntingdon’s Epistola ad Warinum in
the text-history of Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia regum Britanniae: a
preliminary investigation.’ In France and the British Isles in the Middle Ages
and Renaissance. Essays by Members of Girton College, Cambridge in memory
of Ruth Morgan. Ed. Gillian Jondorf and D. N. Dumville. Woodbridge:
Boydell.
100 Thea Summerfield
Anglo-Saxon Chronicle MS F: the Domitian Bilingual, fol. 30v

(London, British Library, MS Cotton Domitian A.viii)
(From: Dumville 1995)
Filling the Gap 101
Appendix I
From: The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, MS F. Ed. Peter S. Baker (2000: 2)
In annalibus Romanorum scripta est: Eneas post Troianum bellum Albam condidit.
Postea uero uxorem duxit, quę peperit ei filium, et nomen eius uocauit Siluium.
Siluius etiam uxorem duxit, et grauidam factam Eneas fecit quondam magum
mulierem explorare, quid haberet in uentre, masculum aut feminam. Considerata
muliere, magus rediens ad dominum suum Ascaniam dixit: “Mulier concepit
masculum et est filius mortis, qui peremturus est patrem et matrem, et omnibus erit
exosus.”Sicque euenit. Nam nato puero ex partu mortua est mater. Vocatus est puer
Britto. Qui post aliquanto temporis ludens cum ceteris pueris coram patra ictu sagittę
non industria occidit patrem. Qui ab Italia expulsus peruenit ad Gallos ibique condidit
ciuitatem Toranorum, que dicitur Tornis. Postea ad istam peruenit insulam, que ab eo
nominata est Brittania. (Continued below, Appendix II).
From: Nennius: British History and the Welsh Annals. Ed. John Morris (1980: 6).
§ 10
In annalibus Romanorum sic scriptum est. Aeneas post Troianum bellum cum
Ascanio filio suo venit ad Italiam et, superato Turno, accepit Laviniam, filiam Latini,
filii Fauni, filii Saturni, in coniugium et, post mortem Latini, regnum obtinuit
Romanorum vel Latinorum. Aeneas autem Albam condidit et postea uxorem duxit, et
peperit ei filium nomine Silvium. Silvius autem duxit uxorem, et gravida fuit, et
nuntiatum est Aeneae quod nurus sua gravida esset, et misit ad Ascanium filium
suum, ut mitteret magum suum ad considerandam uxorem, et exploraret quid haberet
in utero, si masculum vel faminam. Et magus consideravit uxorem et reversus est.
Proper hanc vaticinationem magus occisus est ab Ascanio, quia dixit Ascanio quod
masculum haberet in utero mulier et filius mortis erit, quia occidet patrem suum et
matrem suam et erit exosus omnibus hominibus. Sic evenit: in nativitate illius mulier
mortus est, et nutritus est filius, et vocatum est nomen eius Britto. Post multum inter-
vallum, iuxta vaticinationem magi, dum ipse ludebat cum aliis, ictu sagittae occidit
patrem suum, non de industria, sed casu. Et expulsus est ab Italia, et arminilis fuit, et
venit ad insulas maris Tirreni, et expulsus est a Graecis causa occisionis Turni, quem
Aeneas occiderat, et pervenit ad Gallos usque, et ibi condidt civitatem Turonorum,
quae vocatur Turnis. Et postea ad istam pervenit insulam, quae a nomine suo accepit
nomen, id est Brittaniam, et inplevit eam cum suo genere, et habitavit ibi. Ab illo
autem die habitata est Brittania usque in hodiernum diem.
Appendix II
From: The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, MS F. Ed. Peter S. Baker (2000: 2).
The continuation of the text above:
Hec consurgit ab Affrico boreali ad accidentem uersus. In ea sunt .xxviii. ciuitates et

innumerabilia promontoria cum innumeris castellis ex lapidibus et latere fabricatis, et
in ea habitant .iiii. genera hominum: Scotti, Picti, Saxones, Britones. Habet etiam tres
mangas insulas, quarum una uertit contra Armoricos et uocatur Inis Gueiht; secunda
102 Thea Summerfield
sita est in umbilico maris inter Hiberniam et Brittaniam et uocata Eubonia, id est
Manau; tertia sita est in extremo limite orbis Britannię et dicitur Orc.
From: Nennius: British History and the Welsh Annals. Ed. John Morris (1980: 59).
§7
Brittania insula a quodam Bruto, consule Romano, dicta.
Haec consurgit ab Africo boreali ad occidentem versus. D CCC in longitudine
milium, CC in latitudine spatium habet. In ea sunt viginti octo civitates et innumera-
bilia promuntoria cum innumeris castellis ex lapidibus et latere fabricatis, et in ea
habitant quattor gentes: Scotti, Picti, Saxones atque Brittones.
§8
Tres magnas insulas habet, quarum una vergit contra Armoricas et vocatur Inis
Gueith; secunda sita est in umbilico maris inter Hiberniam et Brittaniam, et vocatur
nomen eius Eubonia, ed est Manau; alia sita est in extremo limite orbis Brittanniae,
ultra Pictos, et vocatur Orc. Sic in proverbo antiquo dicitur, quando de iudicibus vel
regibus sermo fuit: ‘Iudicavit Britanniam cum tribus insulis.’
WALTER MAP ON HENRY I:
THE CREATION OF EMINENTLY USEFUL HISTORY
Alan Cooper
Abstract
Walter Map’s De nugis curialium is full of tall tales, including much
that is discursive, personal, or enchanted by the supernatural. In the
fifth section of the book, however, Map turns to the writing of
history, and his approach changes. The supernatural is suppressed,
the material is arranged more logically, and Map tries to create a
real chronicle, one that would be useful to his readers. While this
attempt at a serious chronicle fails, in fashioning it Map creates a
portrait of King Henry I of England that was useful to him as a crit-
ical commentary on life at the court of Henry’s grandson, Henry II.
This flattering portrait of Henry I, concocted by Map for his own
reasons, has come to colour the way modern historians read the con-
temporary evidence about the reign, leading them to view Henry I in
an unjustifiably positive light.
Let me begin with one of Walter Map’s stories. There was a Christian
lord called Raso. He married an exceptionally beautiful woman.
Foolishly, he trusted her. So it came about that after Raso had cap-
tured and imprisoned a nearby emir, who happened to be a handsome
young man, the lady, fancying a change of pace from her older
husband, snuck down to the dungeon and had her wicked way with the
emir. After this affair had continued for a while, the lady decided to
run away with her lover. Raso was heartbroken by this turn of events.
What upset him, however, was not the loss of his beautiful wife, but
the loss of the magnificent horse on which the couple had made their
escape – ‘that he mourned,’ Walter Map tells us, ‘without stint, nor
could he be relieved by the consolations of his son or his men’ (De
nugis, 266-67). There then follow a series of unlikely adventures in
which Raso desperately tries to regain his horse. These adventures run
to four pages in the modern edition; they are recounted without
humour or a sense of irony, but do allow a modern reader – although
this is certainly not Map’s intention – to gain a great sympathy for the
104 Alan Cooper
wife’s decision to run away while otherwise perhaps feeling frustrated

at so useless a story.
Walter Map is, of course, something of a mythical figure, his
name being connected to various Arthurian legends solely in order to
give those legends some extra spice. The real writing of the man
himself is the rambling jumble of moralistic cautionary tales known to
us as De nugis curialium written in the 1180s and 1190s.1 The tales
are a mixture, including tales drawn from Welsh legend that Map pre-
sumably knew from childhood, tales from the Romance tradition
woven around familiar themes of courtly love and so forth, and tales
from classical antiquity. The tale of Raso and his unfortunate wife is
utterly typical. The tales follow each other apparently as they occurred
to Map, bouncing from one theme to another. The supernatural a-
bounds, and disbelief is suspended, to say the least. Between the tales,
Map inserts other miscellaneous materials. There is a long description
of the various kinds of new monastic orders, including a wonderfully
vituperative account of the Cistercians (De nugis, 84-117); there is the
so called Dissuasio Valerii, a letter of advice against marriage, which
is merely the usual misogynistic litany of biblical and classical bad
women (De nugis, 288-313); and there are several rants about the
vices of Henry II’s court, the first of which begins the book in the
form we have it and thus has given the book its name (De nugis, 2-25,
and also 282-85, 370-75, 500-13).
None of this material would seem to justify the inclusion of De
nugis curialium in a volume on medieval chronicles. However, in the
fifth section of the book – what the sole surviving manuscript calls the
‘Fifth Distinction’ (De nugis, 404-5) – Map turns to the writing of
history. Or at least history as best he can fashion it. In this history of
modern times, he includes a couple of descriptions of King Henry I,
the grandfather of Map’s own King Henry II. These descriptions con-
tain the ‘useful history’ of my title. It is on Map’s historical section
and ultimately on his fashioning of Henry I that I would like to focus,
asking what Map was attempting in this section and how we should
handle it ourselves. I would like to play around with my own word
‘useful’ a little bit and offer you four different ways in which Map’s
work may be seen as useful. The first sense in which the word ‘useful’
is the way in utility was intended as a guiding purpose for the whole
of Map’s work; the second is the way in which Map understood the
writing of history so that it would be useful; the third concerns the
manner in which the deliberate usefulness of the work caused Map to
write the history of Henry I; the fourth and final observation is the
Walter Map on Henry I 105
way in which Map’s account of Henry I has been useful to modern

historians. In all that follows, the contrast between Map’s earnest de-
sire to be useful and the seeming silliness of the tale of Raso might be
kept in mind.
The first ‘useful’ is the one that Map himself would have insisted
upon. His contemporary Richard Fitz Nigel spelled it out in the pre-
face to his Dialogue of the Exchequer: ‘Those … who delight in
novelties, or in hunting for fine distinctions, have Aristotle and Plato’s
books. Let them hear them! [This] book is not to be theoretical, but
practical [non subtilia sed utilia]’ (Dialogus, 5). Map certainly intend-
ed his book to be of direct use. The usual English version of the title,
Courtiers’ Trifles, does not capture the anger of the book’s theme. The
word nugae implies at least frivolities, if not idiocies, or even some-
thing approaching sin in its vacuous waste (Peters 1978: 51-52).
Map’s intention was not to tell empty stories to amuse courtiers, quite
the contrary: he intended to reform the courtiers’ morals by earnest
exempla. He gives us the familiar reason for presenting his tales, that
we might learn from the good and the bad in turn: his stories will
‘make the good happy by a flourishing end, that goodness may be
loved, and condemn the wicked to a dismal death, wishing to make
malice hateful’.2 He calls this ‘a medicinal mixture’ (De nugis, 128-
29), and indeed, it is this usefulness of Map that makes much of Map
so bitter to the taste, introducing his incessant misogyny and one-
dimensional characters.
The second sense in which Map’s work is useful, however, is the
way in which he turns to history. The change in method that happens
very deliberately at the start of the Fifth Distinction tells us something
about the way a twelfth-century writer viewed the craft of history.3 In
the earlier sections of De nugis Map has insisted on the equal value of
history and fiction, saying on more than one occasion that he wishes
to be like the ‘busy bee [that] tastes both wormwood and thyme that it
may gather into the treasure-house of wisdom the honeycomb it has
collected both from bitter and from sweet’ (De nugis, 244-47; see also
260-63). When he turns to history, however, he seems to have a
change of heart, castigating the ‘troupe of buffoons’ (De nugis, 404-5)
who have made the lives of Charlemagne and Pepin into ballads. The
structure and substance of the stories change. Map sets off to relate the
history of his own times, starting with King Edgar in the tenth century,
and essentially adopts a chronological approach that is very much at
variance to the apparent disorganisation of what has preceded the
history (De nugis, 412-13). That said, he again becomes distracted and
106 Alan Cooper
veers off the straight course after a while, but seems more conscious
of the fault than he does elsewhere, commenting on his own
digressions (De nugis, 482-83). The major breaks in the chronological
narrative seem related to an anxiety about writing the history of his
own times. This anxiety is commented on by other writers of the
century, especially William of Malmesbury who says:
[M]ost people, I know, will think me unwise to have turned my pen to
the history of the kings of my own time; they will say that in works of
this character truth is often disastrous and falsehood profitable, for in
writing of contemporaries it is dangerous to criticize, while praise is
sure of a welcome. Thus it is, they maintain, that with everything now-
adays tending to the worse rather than to the better, an author will pass
over the evils that meet him on every hand, to be on the safe side, and
as for good actions, if he cannot find any, he will invent them to secure
a good reception. (Gesta regum Anglorum, I, 541)
Map comments on a number of occasions about the hostility that his

writings had brought him, commenting, for example, on how the Cis-
tercians had reacted with ‘mockery’ to his criticisms of their order (De
nugis, 110-13). Such hostility may be the reason that, having started
with Edgar, proceeding to Æthelred the Unready and then Cnut, he
skips the Norman Conquest and jumps into a description of Henry I.
Then he moves elegantly sideways into a discussion of the kings of
France, Louis VI and VII, about whom he knew from his own time in
Paris (De nugis, xv). Only when he has exhausted this safer topic does
he turn back to the death of William Rufus, to Henry I again, and then
finally on to Henry II (De nugis, 465-99). By this point, however, Map
refers to Henry II as already dead (De nugis, 476-77), as if his di-
gressions have allowed him to see out the reign and he can now return
safely to the straighter chronology.
Other aspects of De nugis change in the chronicle section as well.
The supernatural disappears almost entirely – the ghosts and fairies,
giants and devils that dominate the stories in the first four sections
vanish. There is one exception that proves the rule. Map tells the story
of a criminal whose sentence is commuted from death to the loss of an
ear. Four days after the man’s ear has been cut off, his wife gives birth
to a child lacking the same ear. This ‘notable prodigy,’ however, in
this section requires Map’s analysis, and he comments that it would
have been less miraculous if the child had been conceived after the
mutilation, but that the late mutilation in utero demonstrates the
extreme sympathy of the wife who had dramatically interceded for her
husband.4 The rationally critical quality of the narrative at this point is
very different from the wide-eyed reporting of wonders earlier in the

book. And, in a similar manner, the tropes drawn from Romance are
brought into question. For example, the story of Earl Godwin, which
carries the narrative through the first half of the eleventh century,
begins with the discovery of Godwin as a child; Godwin was, says
Map, the son of a cowherd, but ‘he was handsomer and finer than his
parents’ descent might have made him’ (De nugis, 412-13). His talents
are immediately apparent when the king makes an accidental visit in-
cognito, and the king lifts Godwin out of his condition and sets him on
the road to success and wealth. Map has told a similar story earlier in
De nugis, but, when he is simply telling stories, the surprising talents
of a young peasant boy reveal the boy to be a prince in disguise, saved
from the machinations of his evil relatives by the kindliness of one of
the court (De nugis, 386-89). The rejection of such fanciful elements
in the historical section also causes the characters to become less one-
dimensional, a contrast made more obvious by a comparison of the
historical section with the small historical elements that occur in the
earlier sections, such as a garbled account of the reign of the Emperor
Andronicus in Constantinople in the 1180s, which, although historical,
is allowed to be thoroughly fantastic (De nugis, 174-79; cf. 410-11).
Finally, and most striking of all, misogyny, the principal feature of
most of De nugis, is reduced in the historical section. Whereas many
of the stories in the first four sections have been driven by the
presence of beautiful and utterly untrustworthy women, in the
historical section, women are largely on the sidelines. Their role in the
action is confined to serving as tearful intercessors for their husbands
(De nugis, 444-45). This is not to say that Map’s views have changed,
however. When women finally do have a real place in the history he is
telling, they are presented in as hostile a manner as ever: the Empress
Matilda is blamed for many things including giving dreadful advice to
her young son (De nugis, 478-79), and Eleanor of Aquitaine is briefly
excoriated for her divorce from Louis VII and supposed affair with
Henry’s father.5
In brief, then, what is instructive about Map’s little chronicle
within his collection of tales is the way in which the decision to write
history imposes certain restraints upon him. Map knows that to
fashion something that is useful as history he has to limit the more
incredible elements of his story-telling instincts and to adopt a more
critical approach. The result, it should be added, is not particularly
successful: Map achieves the tone of history, but nothing more. As the
editors of Map comment in a delightfully laconic footnote: ‘this is not,
108 Alan Cooper
of course, serious history’ (De nugis, 450n). Map would, I think, have
been offended by their judgment.
In the midst of this ‘not serious’ history appears the picture of
Henry I (De nugis, 436-41, 468-75), the third useful element of the
work. Henry, alone of all the characters in this section of the work,
seems rather larger than life. He is credited with being so successful in
battle that the king of France is happy to be defeated by him (De
nugis, 456-57). His well known connections to the abbey of Cluny are
magnified to the fullest, so that he is made responsible for the whole
cost of the new abbey church, the most magnificent building of
western Christendom (De nugis, 436-39). His justice was such that
people willingly did crimes to be in his mercy ‘and took pleasure in
being held therein’ (De nugis, 472-73). And we are told that unlike his
father and brother before him, he was able to unite England by means
of marriages between English and Norman, so that there was ‘firm
amity’ between the two peoples (De nugis, 436-37). In short, he
reigned ‘to the honour of God and the great wealth and enduring
gladness of his subjects’ (De nugis, 436-37), so that ‘no one but an
idiot was poor in those days’ (De nugis, 472-73). These achievements
are, however, listed briefly; the main thrust of the account of Henry I
concerns the way in which he ran his court. It is characteristic of Map
that the court and courtiers should be the point: it is, after all, the guid-
ing principle of the whole work. Map has, for example, already made
the story of the middle of the eleventh century a matter of the rise of
Earl Godwin, who in Map’s telling is the quintessential successful
courtier (De nugis, 414-17).
According to Map, the court of Henry I was a model of decorum.
Map has several main issues that he rehearses: he is concerned with
the largesse of the prince; he is concerned with the way counsel is
given and heard; and he is concerned with the daily order of the court.
With regard to the largesse of the prince, Henry I supposedly ‘though
he so held the mean between miser and prodigal, that he could not be
nearer a prodigal without falling into the vice, was always blessed
with all affluence’ (De nugis, 438-39). In this manner Henry achieved
a feat that many of Map’s subjects of study had failed in – he managed
to give a lot away (something that as a courtier and a poet Map is
naturally very anxious about) without becoming poor. And, moreover,
he managed to be munificent without exploiting others. Map tells
several stories of other great men who manage to be generous but only
by robbing others, and, as he says elsewhere, there can be no laud for
good works done through fraud (De nugis, 416-17). In the taking of
counsel, Henry I is again presented as the model: the old and wise
were given access to the king before lunch; then after lunch and a little
nap, the more youthful were admitted. Thus, ‘this king’s court was in
the morning a school of virtues and of wisdom, and in the afternoon
one of hilarity and decent mirth’ (De nugis, 438-39). Finally, and most
importantly for Map, Henry’s court was one marked by order. Accord-
ing to Map, Henry would announce the court’s itinerary in advance so
that supplies and merchants could be ready for them. He had set down
in writing the allowances that everyone would have so that there was
no squabbling and grasping for money. In other words, ‘nothing was
done without preparation, or without previous arrangement, or in a
hurry: everything was managed as befitted a king and with proper
control’ (De nugis, 472-73).
The deliberate usefulness of this account of Henry I’s court could
not be more transparent. From the beginning of the work, Map lets us
know the horrors – as he sees it – of life at Henry II’s court. This later
court is literally possessed, trapped like the ghostly court of King
Herla,6 doomed to wander without release, so that
we wear out our clothes, waste whole kingdoms, break down our own
bodies and those of our beasts, and have no time to seek medicine for
our sick souls. No advantage comes to us unbought, no profit accrues if
the losses be reckoned, we do nothing considered, nothing at leisure;
with haste that is vain and wholly unfruitful to us we are borne on in
mad course, and since our rulers always confer secretly in hidden places
with the approaches locked and guarded, nothing is done by us in
council. We rush on at a furious pace; the present we treat with
negligence and folly, the future we entrust to chance, and since we are
knowingly and with open eyes always wending to our destruction,
wandering timid waifs, we are more than any man lost and depressed.
In other societies it is the common question ‘Why are you sad?’ for
sadness is rare; in ours it is ‘Why are you cheerful?’ for we are seldom
happy. (De nugis, 372-73)
Map attributes Henry II’s decision to be guarded in giving and to shun

good counsel to the malign influence of his mother who had urged
him to hold everyone’s business in suspension, not awarding patron-
age for as long as possible so as to keep everyone in a state of anxiety,
and had urged him to stay as much as possible out of sight and not in
public (De nugis, 478-79). Henry’s love of keeping his court on the
go, however, ‘travelling in unbearably long stages … merciless be-
yond measure to the household that accompanied him,’ Map attributed
to the king’s fear of growing fat (De nugis, 476-77). The result is,
110 Alan Cooper
however, that Henry II’s court sent out emissaries to seize what could
be seized (De nugis, 12-13). And the king himself did not know the
names of the members of his household, so confusion reigned (De
nugis, 24-25).
In short, then, the image of Henry I’s court is useful history to
Walter Map, because it demonstrates how he wishes the court of his
day were run. The use of Henry I to make these points is revealing.
Although Map is anything but a typical observer and his account is
anything but neutral, his misty-eyed depiction of Henry I as the order-
ly, wise king shows us the way in which Henry I had become the
object of all sorts of pious fantasying by the end of his grandson’s
reign. Stating that one was doing things the way they had been done in
grandad’s day was the way to win an argument at Henry II’s court.
Nevertheless, there is a final fourth way in which Map’s account
of Henry I has proved useful. Map’s phrase for Henry I, amator pacis,
‘lover of peace’, has come to dominate the scholarship on the king. To
begin with, the pleasant little fable of Henry bringing peace by arrang-
ing marriages between English and Norman (on the model of his own)
was implicitly adopted by Bishop Stubbs, for whom English history
started up again with Henry after the interruption of the Conquest.7
Above all, though, it is the supposed peace and order of the court that
proves Henry’s status as an administrator and a peace-loving founder
of government. Warren Hollister, in his biography of Henry I, ob-
serves that Eadmer states that in 1109 Henry reformed his court,
forbidding plunder, extortion, theft and rape, and, says Hollister, ‘We
hear no further complaints about rowdy courtiers for the remaining
twenty-seven years of his reign’ (2001: 214). It is clear where this idea
of a peaceful court comes from: Hollister remarks that ‘The royal
clerk Walter Map, looking back nostalgically from the bustle and
confusion of Henry II’s court, reports very plausibly that Henry I had
a register complied of all his earls and barons and that he provided
them too with set per diem allowances of bread, wine, and candles
while they were in attendance at his court, thus compensating in part
for the new rule against robbing villagers’ (Hollister (2001: 214;
Hollister is referring to De nugis, 438-39). Above all, Map’s comment
about a register of allowances for the lords in attendance at the court
becomes elided with the document known as the Constitutio domus
regis, a short list of allowances for household servants dating from
after the king’s death in 1135.8 Hollister argues that the Constitutio
must be from earlier in the reign (2001: 27), although he has no
evidence beyond the confident assertions of Map. From this starting
point, Hollister is able to accept Map’s depiction of the court at face

value, making it into the court of a Renaissance prince – Hollister’s
phrase (1997: 14): ‘By such means as these, Henry transformed his
court from a gang of itinerant predators into a company of well-
controlled courtiers who, despite the new constrictions and meticulous
organization, evidently still managed to enjoy courtly life and make it
a nucleus of incipient chivalry’ (2001: 215). Judith Green, Henry’s
most recent biographer, follows Hollister’s lead, and is content to
accept the truth of Walter Map’s account of the well-ordered court
with merchants to supply its every need on the basis of noting that the
one survivor of the wreck of the White Ship in 1120 was a butcher
(2006: 289). As I have argued elsewhere, the image of Henry I, the
lover of peace, is not justified by a close analysis of the contemporary
evidence, which shows above all the fear of chroniclers of writing
anything but good of him (Cooper 2000: 66-67). It was Walter Map
who transformed Henry I, the skilful exploiter of resources, into
Henry I, lover of order for its own sake.
Let me leave you with two quick conclusions. The first is simple: in
writing the history of Henry I, do not use Walter Map. Map is, of
course, a fine source for the memory of the king, but as a source on
the actual events of the reign, he is not useful at all, in fact he is worse
than useless. When Map writes about Henry I he is actually writing
about Henry II. The second conclusion is, however, about the craft of
historical writing. When Map turns, explicitly and deliberately, from
the writing of edifying and uplifting fables to the writing of serious
history, he accepts the restraints of twelfth-century historical writing.
He makes this narrative shift in order to produce useful history; in so
doing, he has produced history that is certainly useful, but sometimes
for the wrong reasons.
Notes
1
For details on Walter Map and his writing, see Map, De nugis, xiii–xxxii, and
Gransden (1974: 242–44). For suggestions of a serious purpose in Map’s tales, see
Rigg (1998), and Echard (1996).
2
De nugis, 128-29; see Southern (1973: 243), Morse (1991: chapter 2, esp. 86–90).
3
See Morse (1991, esp. chapters 1 and 2), Given-Wilson (2004: esp. chapters 1–3),
Partner (1977: esp. chapter 7).
4
De nugis, 442-47. The only other supernatural event in the historical section is a
thoroughly conventional miracle story in which Count Theobald of Champagne has a
conversation with a man to whom he has acted charitably and who is subsequently
112 Alan Cooper
revealed to have been dead at the time of the conversation, so that Theobald realises
that he had encountered Christ (De nugis, 462-65). Such worthy miracles were seen as
truthful and therefore falling under the purview of the historian; as Gervase of Can-
terbury put it, the materials fit for a real historian were ‘deeds of kings and princes …,
along with other events, portents and miracles’ (quoted in Given-Wilson 2004: 21).
5
De nugis, 474-77. On Walter’s views about Eleanor and the relationship between
these views and the similar but more developed opinions of Gerald of Wales, see
Barber (2005: 24-25).
6
Map tells the story of how Herla and his courtiers were cursed to wander forever,
lest on dismounting from their horses they be turned to dust; Map concludes his story
by suggesting that at the beginning of the reign of Henry II, Herla and his companions
had finally found peace, ‘as if they had transmitted their wanderings to us’ (De nugis,
26-31 and also 370-73).
7
Stubbs (1913: 110; 1891: I, 336-38); Southern (1970: 206-7 and 233).
8
On the Constitutio, see Dialogus, xlix–liii, especially p. l for a dating of 1135–39,
and 129-35 for an edition of the document itself. The document refers to Henry I’s
death (Dialogus, 129).
Bibliography
Primary sources
Fitz Nigel, Richard. Dialogus de Scaccario, The Course of the Exchequer; Consitutio
domus regis, The Establishment of the Royal Household. Ed. Charles Johnson,
with corrections by F. E. L. Carter and Diana E. Greenway. Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1983. Referred to as Dialogus, followed by page number.
Malmesbury, William of. Gesta regum Anglorum. The History of the English Kings. 2
vols. Ed. R. A. B. Mynors, R. M. Thomson and M. Winterbottom. Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1998-99).
Map, Walter. De nugis curialium. Courtiers’ Trifles. Ed. and trans. M. R. James. Rev.
C. N. L. Brooke and R. A. B. Mynors. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1983. Referred
to as De nugis, followed by page number.
Barber, Richard (2005). ‘Eleanor of Aquitaine and the Media.’ In The World of
Eleanor of Aquitaine: Literature and Society in Southern France between the
Eleventh and Thirteenth Centuries. Ed. Marcus Bull and Catherine Léglu.
Woodbridge: Boydell. Pp. 13–27.
Cooper, Alan (2000). ‘‘The Feet of those that bark shall be cut off’: Timorous
Historians and the Personality of Henry I.’ Anglo-Norman Studies 23: 47–67.
Echard, Siân (1996). ‘Map’s Metafiction: Author, Narrator and Reader in De nugis
curialium.’ Exemplaria 8: 287–314
Given-Wilson, Chris (2004). Chronicles: the Writing of History in Medieval England.
London: Hambledon and London.
Gransden, Antonia (1974). Historical Writing in England, c. 550–1307. Ithaca: Cor-
nell University Press.
Green, Judith A. (2006). Henry I, King of England and Duke of Normandy. Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press.
Hollister, C. Warren (1997). ‘Anglo-Norman Political Culture and the Twelfth-
Century Renaissance.’ In Anglo-Norman Political Culture and the Twelfth-
Century Renaissance: Proceedings of the Borchard Conference on Anglo-

Norman History, 1995. Ed. C. Warren Hollister. Woodbridge: Boydell and
Brewer. Pp. 1–16.
––– (2001). Henry I .Ed. and completed by Amanda Clark Frost. New Haven: Yale
University Press.
Morse, Ruth (1991). Truth and Convention in the Middle Ages: Rhetoric, Representa-
tion and Reality. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Partner, Nancy F. (1977). Serious Entertainments: The Writing of History in Twelfth-
Century England. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Peters, Edward (1978). The Magician, the Witch and the Law. Philadelphia: Univer-
sity of Pennsylvania Press.
Rigg, A. G. (1998). ‘Walter Map, the Shaggy Dog Story, and the Quaestio Disputata.’
In Roma, Magistra Mundi: Itineraria Culturae Medievalis. Mélanges offerts à
Père L. E. Boyle à l'occasion de son 75e anniversaire. Textes et Études du
Moyen Âge 10.2. Louvain-la-Neuve: Fédération Internationale des Instituts
d'Etudes Médiévales. Pp. 723–35.
Southern, R. W. (1970). ‘King Henry I.’ In his Medieval Humanism and Other
Studies. Oxford: Blackwell. Pp. 206–33.
––– (1973). ‘Aspects of the European Tradition of Historical Writing: 4. The Sense of
the Past.’ Transactions of the Royal Historical Society. 5th series, 23: 243–63.
Stubbs, William (1891-1898). The Constitutional History of England. 3 vols. 5th edn.
Oxford: Clarendon Press.
––– (1913). Select Charters. 9th edn. Rev. H. W. C. Davis . Oxford: Clarendon Press.
ÆLDAD’S JUDGEMENT:
AN EPISODE IN LAHAMON’S BRUT
Jane Roberts
Abstract
For the most part the geography of Lahamon’s Brut is inherited and
already in place in Wace’s Roman de Brut. Yet, examination of the
few names newly introduced by Lahamon may help us in our
reading of his Brut. One episode is explored in detail: Lahamon’s
treatment of the brothers Ældad and Aldolf, in which Lahamon has
come under criticism for biblical inaccuracy in his handling of the
story of Agag the Amalekite. Comparing parallel passages in Wace,
the article argues that in this episode Lahamon purposefully ob-
trudes the place-name Jerusalem, thereby tapping into resonances of
the crusades.
In Lahamon’s Brut, the brothers Aldolf and Ældad(us) are both inti-
mately involved in their country’s return to Christian rule from
anarchy. One aspect of the long years of Vortigern’s tyranny must be
confronted squarely: the huge increase of heathens. According to the
story Hengest and Horsa came as economic migrants (every sixth man
had to leave the homeland), but over time more and more Saxons
arrived, first as family members, but later as welcome supporters of
Vortigern: ‘þeh he bringen ten þusend gumen ; alle heo beoð me wel
icumen’ (even if he brings a thousand, to me they are all welcome; C
7235).1 Eventually there were so many incomers that it had become
hard to tell who was Christian and who heathen:
. . . þis lond wes swa vul ; of uncuðe leoden.
þat nes nan swa wis mon ; no swa her-witele.
þat mihte to-dæle ; þa Cristine and þa hæðene.
for þa hæðene weoren swa riue ; and auere heo comen biliue.
(C 7255-58)
(. . . this land was so full of the foreign people

That there was no man so wise nor so quick-witted
116 Jane Roberts
That he could distinguish between the heathens and the Christians,

For the heathen were so rife, and were so rapidly arriving.)
Tost furent si paien munté,

As crestїens entremeslé,
Avisunques conuisseit l’un
Ki ert crestїen e ki nun.
(7063-66)
(So quickly did the heathen increase, intermingling with the Christians,
that one could scarcely tell who were Christian and who were not.)
Lahamon, by comparison with his principal source Wace, dwells on

the difficulty of keeping Christian and heathen apart. In his reworking
of the story, the Britons, overwhelmed, plead with Vortigern to sepa-
rate himself from the heathen people he is held responsible for having
brought in. Wace reports their great rage (‘mult ennuied’; 7067) in a
few lines, whereas Lahamon creates for them a composite speech of
complaint that must in its blatant anachronism have resonated in an
age when men went on crusade to the Holy Land:
and hif heo alle beoð hæðene ; and þu ane Cristine.
nulleð heo nauere longe ; habben þe to kinge.
buten þu a þine dahen ; a-fo hæðene lahen.
and bilæue þe hæhhe Godd ; and luuie heore Mahimet.
Þenne scalt þu for-wurþen ; a þissere woruld-riche.
and þi wracche saule ; sihen to helle.
þenne hauest þu aboht ; þe luue of þire brude.
(C 7276-82)
(And if they are all heathen, and you are a Christian.

It won’t be for very long that they keep you as king,
Unless you in your days will adopt heathen ways,
And abandon God Most High, and love their false idols.
Then you will be destroyed in the kingdom of this world
And your wretched soul will sink down to Hell,
And you will have paid for the love of your bride.)
It is just this sort of heightened passage, together with its coincidental

fingering of a ‘bride’ (reminding some of ‘þeah seo bryd duge’ [even
though the bride be excellent]; Beowulf 2031), that had the older
critics hark back to Beowulf and miss the point that what is at stake
here is not only the enmity flaring up because of marriage between
peoples but the insidious advance of immigrants with markedly dif-
ferent customs throughout the country. The Britons hold a hustings in
Ældad’s Judgement: An Episode in Lahamon’s Brut 117
London and choose as their king Vortimer, who sends to Hengest and
Horsa, bidding them to leave.2 But Vortigern, king again after Vorti-
mer’s death, is foolish enough to invite Hengest back. Hengest comes,
with rather more followers than expected, and the narrative moves
forward quickly to the day of the long knives.
Wha wolde wenen ; a þissere weorld-riche.
þat Hengest swiken þohte ; þene king þat hæfde his dohter.
for nis nauer nan mon ; þat me ne mai mid swike-dome ouer-gan.
Heo nomen ænne isetne dæi
(C 7573-76)
(Who would expect, in all this world’s extent,

That Hengest thought to trick the king who had taken his daughter?
Yet there was never any man who could not be overcome by treason.
They took an appointed day . . .)
Ki se creinsist de traїtur?
De parlement unt assis jur.
(7219-20)
(Who suspected treachery? They appointed a day for the parley.)
One man won away from the carnage, Aldolf, earl of Gloucester. The
Britons, as it had been agreed, were unarmed, but Lahamon plants
among them a strong working man who happened to have on his back
‘ænne muchelne mæin clubbe’ (A huge powerful club; C 7630) which
Aldolf seizes, to battle his way out ‘swulc hit a liun weoren’ (just like
a lion; C 7633), not as in Wace just happening to find at his feet ‘un
grant pel … / Ne sai ki l’i aveit porté’ (a great stake . . . and not
known who had brought it there; 7262–64).3 Aldolf’s return to
Gloucester is presented not as flight, rather as the first step in the
defence of Britain against the enemy within:
he ærde to Glochæstre ; and þe hates læc ful feste.
and anan forð-rihtes ; lette ærmi his cnihtes.
heond alle þan londe. ; nomen þat heo funden.
heo nomen orf heo nomen corn ; and al þat heo quic funden.
and brohten to burhhe ; vnnimete blisse.
þa hæten heo tunden uaste ; and wel heom biwusten.
(C 7639-44)
(He galloped to Gloucester, and locked the gates most securely,

And immediately straight after had his knights get themselves armed,
And all over the land they were to take what they found:
118 Jane Roberts
They took cattle, they took corn, and everything they found alive,
And brought them to the borough with the greatest pleasure.
The gates they barred firmly and guarded them well.)
A Gloëcestre s’en fuї,

Sa cité e sa tur guarni. (7275-76)
(. . . fled to Gloucester, fortifying his tower and his city.)
Later, when Aurelius and his brother Uther returned from Brittany,
Aldolf was clearly in line for promotion:
Þa hafde al þat lond ; Aurilie an his hond.
Þer wes þe aðele eorl ; Aldolf ihaten.
he wes of Gloucestre ; cnihten alre glæuest.
þær Aurilie i þan ærde ; makede hine stiwærd.
Þa hæfde Aurilien ; and Vther his bro[ð]er.
heore ifan auelde ; and weoren þer-fore þe bliðere.
(C 8101-6)
(Then in Aurelius’s hand stood the whole of the land.

There was an honorable earl, Aldolf he was called;
He came from Gloucester, the cleverest of knights.
For all the land Aurelius made him his justiciar.
Aurelius by then and Uther his brother
Had felled all their foes and because of it were happier.)
Lahamon doesn’t toss the word steward around lightly. Aldolf is one
of a very small number of men so described in this Brut. In earlier
times there were Numbert, Aðionærd, and Gracien, promised Aðio-
nærd’s position by Maximien. Dominating this part of the Brut is one
of the evilest of stewards, the jumped-up leader Vortigern, who whee-
dled his way into Constanz’s service with the statement ‘for ich hab-
ben i-beon stiward. of al Brutlondes ærd’ (For I have been justiciar of
all of Britain’s area; C 6515); and Hengest too has his unnamed
steward to share in the division of ‘al þis riche kine-lond’ (all this
glorious kingdom; C 7659).4 A steward was a man particularly to be
trusted, as is evident from the shenanigans that brought about the
conception of Arthur:
þurh alle þinge þu scalt beon ; swulc þu eorl weore.
and ich wulle beon iwil del ; swulc him is Brutael.
þat is a cniht swiðe herd ; he is þeos eorles stiward.
Iurdan is his bur-cniht ; he is swiðe wel idiht.
Ich wulle makien anan ; Ulfin swulc is Iurdan.
Þenne bist þu lauer[d] ; and ich Brutael þi stiward.

and Ulfin Iurdan þi bur-cniht ; and we scullen faren nu to-niht.
(C 9458-64)
(In all respects you’ll appear as if you were the earl,

And I will be in precise detail like the man Britael
Who is a very stern knight and is the earl’s steward,
Jordan is his chamberlain (he’s a very splendid man):
Instantly I’ll transform Ulfin to be the same as Jordan;
So you’ll be the lord, I’ll be Britael your steward,
And Ulfin, Jordan your chamberlain; and this very night we’re going in:)
The last steward of the poem is Kay. There is little elaborated termi-
nology for social gradations in Lahamon’s Brut, any more than in
Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Brut,5 but two other senior positions stand
out in this fantasy world: the highest bur-cniht (Iurdan, Brien) and
highest birle (Beduer). To such men, great trust is given.
Lahamon, as we saw, notes Aldolf’s appointment very briefly.
Interestingly, he does not present Aurelius as asking Aldolf to take
vengeance on Vortigern, although Wace had done so:
‘Eldulf, dist Aureles, pur Dé,
As tu ja mun pere ublié
Ke te nurri e te feufa,
E mun frere, ki mult t’ama?
Andui volentiers t’enurerent,
Mult te creїrent, mult t’amerent;
Pat l’engin a cest suduiant,
A cest perjure, a cest tirant,
Furent ocis, encore vesquissent
Se par sun engin ne perissent.
Se tu de cels eus marrement,
Pren de Wortiger vengement.’
(7629-40)
(‘For God’s sake, Eldulf,’ said Aurelius, ‘have you already forgotten
my father, who gave you nurture and fiefs, and my brother, who loved
you dearly? Both of them willingly honoured you, and gave you much
trust and much love. By the cunning of this traitor, this perjurer, this
tyrant, they were slain; they would still be alive were it not for his
cunning. If you grieved for them, take revenge on Vortigern.’)
By contrast, a little later Aurelius makes a speech for which there is

the merest prompt in Wace ‘A tuz pramist restorement / Se il repairot
sainement’ (He promised everyone compensation if he returned safely
120 Jane Roberts
from battle; 7677-78). In this speech Aurelius, having seen the devas-
tation caused by Hengest’s burnt-earth retreat to the north, states his
determination to act generously should he win control of Britain:
Þa sæide Aurilie þe king ; Bruttene deorling.
Hif ich mot ibiden ; þat ich ahæn ride.
and hit wulle Drihte ; þe scop þes dahes lihte.
þat ich mote mid isunde ; bihite mine ikunde.
chirchen ich wulle arære ; and God ich wulle hæren.
ich wulle alche cnihte ; heuen his irihte.
and auer-ælche beorne ; þan ælden and þan hungen ;
ich wulle milden wurðen.
hif Godd me wule ivnnæ ; min æðel to biwinnen.
(C 8121-29)
(Then declared King Aurelius, the darling of the Britons:

‘If I’m to survive so that back again I ride,
If it is willed by Our Lord who made the daylight with his word
That I may in safety obtain what is my heritage,
Then churches I shall raise, and the true God I will praise;
I will to each knight give what is his right,
And to every single man, both to the old and young,
I shall be kindly,
If God will grant me to regain my own country.’)
This manifesto aligns Aurelius at least in intent with such leaders as

Elidur, Ruhhudibras and Arthur as virtuous and moderate.6
Vengeance is Aldolf’s self-appointed task in Lahamon’s Brut,
and on the battle-field a little later more explicit ideas of vengeance
fill his speech than are to be found in the source-lines in Wace (C
8173-82; cf. Wace 7737-44). When Aldolf and Hengest meet in battle,
theirs is a hard fight. Both poets tell how Aldolf’s recognition that
Gorlois is coming to his aid serves to make him ‘muchele þe balder’
(much bolder; C 8238) ~ ‘Plus seür se fist e plus fier’ (it made him
prouder and more resolute; Wace 7810). Forcing Hengest to submit,
Aldolf takes him prisoner and glories in his defeat. Whereas Wace
ends this part of the story with a four-line statement that proper treat-
ment was dealt out to Hengest and that he was bound and chained and
handed over to Aurelius, its passive constructions suggesting for-
malities undertaken by lesser figures on the battlefield, in Lahamon’s
reworking Hengest ‘eode stille’ (walked silently), seeing ‘help nenne’
(no help; C 8253), and Aldolf himself gets to take his prisoner before
Aurelius, to indulge in an even more bloodthirsty gloat and to earn
high praise before men take and bind Hengest.
At a hustings called some days later in Conisbrough Aurelius

asks his counsellors how Hengest is to be punished.7 First to speak is
Bishop Ældad(us), ‘Aldolf eorles broðer’ (Earl Aldolf’s brother; C
8291). In Wace’s narrative Ældad begins his speech by putting for-
ward a precedent from scripture as exemplum, how Samuel punished
Agag, and he advises Aurelius to do unto Hengest as Samuel did to
Agag the Amalekite:
‘Jo vuil, dist il, de Henguist faire,
Cest traїtur, cest adversaire,
Ço que Samuel fist jadis
Del rei Agag, quant il fu pris.’
(7851-54)
(‘I want,’ he said, ‘to do to Hengist, this traitor and enemy, what
Samuel once did to king Agag, when he was captured.’)
La1amon does away with such opening niceties. His Ældad plunges
straight to judgement with a swingeing denunciation of the prisoner:
Lauerd king lust nu me ; what ic wullen tellen þe.
Ich wulle makien þene dom ; hu he scal beon fordon.
for he is on leode ; monnen us laðest.
and haue[ð] ure kun of-slæ1en ; and idon of lif-dæ1en.
and he is an hæðene hund ; helle he scal isechen.
þer he scal sinke ; for his swike-dome.
(C 8292-97)
(‘My lord king, listen to me now, to what I shall relate to you:

I shall pronounce to you the sentence on how he is to be struck down.
Because for us who live here of men he is most loathsome,
And has slaughtered our kinsmen and deprived them of their days of
life,
And he is a heathen hound, so he must go down to hell:
There let him sink because of his treachery.’)
Only after this initial condemnation of Hengest does he develop the

example from scripture, signalling this new movement in his speech
with repetition of the honorific phrase of address to Aurelius:
‘Lauerd king hærcne me ; wat ich þe wulle tællen.
A king wes in Ierusalem ; Saul wes ihaten.
þe8 wes in hæðenesse ; king of muchele mæhte.
Agag wes ihaten ; Ierusalem he hatede.
he wes king of þe Amalæh ; þe Wurse him wes ful nieh.
auere he hatede Ierusalem ; mid hærmen þan mesten.
122 Jane Roberts
nolde he neouere heom 1iuen grið ; ah auere he heom stod wið.

he heom barnde he heom sloh ; he dude heom so<r>1en inoh.’
(C 8299-305)
(‘Lord King, hearken to me, to what I want to tell you:

There was a king in Jerusalem, Saul was his name,
[And] in the heathen territory a king of great power,
Agag he was called, and Jerusalem he hated,
He was King of the Amalekites (to him the Evil One was close):
All the time he hated Jerusalem to its greatest harm;
Never would he give them any peace but always he opposed them:
He burned them, he killed them, he gave them many sorrows.’)
The listeners are plunged into a highly emotive context, Jerusalem, but
back in the days of Saul. Little matter that Jerusalem is not named in 1
Samuel 15, the name crops up seven times in Ældad’s speech, finally
in the placing of Agag’s death ‘in Ierusalemus chepping’ (in the
market-pace of Jerusalem; C 8335). In her discussion of this speech
Françoise Le Saux notes that no single element comes from the Bible,
arguing that ‘La1amon actually goes against the Scriptures in stating
that the execution of Agag took place at the market-place of Jeru-
salem’ (Le Saux 1989: 176). Similarly, Eric Stanley points out that
‘He should have known Galgal, and he did not’, though adding in
La1amon’s defence that a ‘priest up-country’ might not have had to
hand ‘convenient works of reference’ (Stanley 2002: 12). Rather than
criticize La1amon for inaccuracy, I should like to suggest that he knew
the story of Agag well enough to use it for his own ends.
Whether or not La1amon knew that Agag was executed in Galgal,
once the speech he gives Ældad gets to the biblical example, Jerusa-
lem is obtruded. The line ‘A king wes in Ierusalem ; Saul wes ihaten’
identifies place and ruler, and is followed up immediately with ‘in
hæðenesse’ a king implacable in his hatred of Jerusalem, ‘king of þe
Amalæh’, Agag the Amalekite: ‘þe Wurse him wes ful nieh’. Slowly
and surely a similarity between Hengest and Agag is being estab-
lished. When in their turn the men who ‘wuneden inne Ierusalem’
(were living in Jerusalem; C 8314) attacked Agag and killed his
people, they captured Agag and took him before Saul, who asked his
counselors if he should be slain or spared (this part of what is seen as
La1amon’s inaccurate narrative actually comes from Wace, 7857-66).
Just as Ældad had stood up at Aurelius’s hustings, so the ‘witi1e’
(prophet) Samuel ‘Þa leop up’ (Up then leaped; C 8322). At this point,
instead of moving directly, as in Wace, to Samuel’s execution of
Agag, La1amon inserts his own picture of punishment procedures:
Samuel nom Agag þene king ; and lædde hine a þan cheping.
and lette hine swiðe sterke ; to ane stake binde.
and nom mid his riht hond ; ænne dure-wurðe brond.
and þus cleopede him on ; Samuel þe gode mon.
Þu hattes Agag þe king ; nu þu ært an ærming.
nu þu scalt fon þat læn ; þat þu for-ferdest Ierusalem.
þat þu hauest þas hæ1e burh ; swa swiðe for-worht.
and monienne godne mon islæ1en ; and idon of lif-dæ1en.
swa ich ibide are ; ne scalt þu nauer-mare.
(C 8325-33)
Samuel took King Agag captive to the market-place

And had him tied up very tightly to a strong stake which was there,
And took in his right hand a valuable brand,
And like this he called out to him, did Samuel the good man:
“You’re known as Agag the king, but now you are sorrowing;
Now you must take your recompense for ruining Jerusalem,
For having so greatly damaged this dear and noble city,
And slaughtering many a good man and depriving him of life-days.
As I await God’s mercy you will not do this any more!”
The details have an immediacy that comes from La1amon’s ability to

involve his audience: Agag is led to the market-square, stripped as
ignominiously as any common criminal, tied to a stake and taunted,
before being cut to pieces ‘in Ierusalemus chepping’. A final sentence
ties exemplum to larger contest: ‘þus tok Samuel on ; and swa þu a1est
Hengest don’ (That’s how Samuel acted, and so you ought to treat
Hengest’; C 8337). You could say that La1amon is flexing his muscles
on his way to those much-admired long-tailed similes, but that is a
different topic (Davies 1960).
The taunting of the humbled Agag with its balanced opening ‘Þu
hattes Agag þe king ; nu þu ært an ærming’9 draws on Wace’s de-
piction of him as ‘mult orguillus’ (very arrogant; 7855), but develops
very differently from the briefer speech given Samuel by Wace:
‘Agag, maint hume as travaillié,
Maint hume ocis, maint eissillié,
Tu as mainte aume de cors traite
E mainte mere triste faite,
Maint enfant as fait orphenin,
E tu es or venuz a fin.
Ta mere senz enfant ferai
Et t’aume de tun cors trarai.’
(7877-84)
124 Jane Roberts
‘Agag, you have injured many men, killed many, impoverished many;
you have separated many a soul from its body and grieved many a
mother, orphaned many a child, and now you are come to your end. I
will make your mother childless and separate the soul from your body.’
Whereas Samuel’s speech in Wace reflects the biblical speech of 1

Samuel 15.33, ‘And Samuel said: As thy sword hath made women
childless, so shall thy mother be childless among women’, La1amon
makes no mention of mothers mourning for their dead children.10
Instead there is a new resonance to Agag’s ill-treatment that pulls out
other stops. He is to receive due reward for the destruction of Jeru-
salem, for having attacked ‘þas hæ1e burh’ so evilly and for having
slain so many. The triumphalism of the ending of Ældad’s lengthy
speech ties in well with the extended opening which La1amon had
given it (C 8292-97). His final chilling assessment of how Hengest
should be punished, ‘þus tok Samuel on ; and swa þu a1est Hengest
don’, is followed by Aldolf’s immediate action:
Þis iherde Aldolf ; þe eorl of Glocetere.
touward Hengest he leop ; swulc hit a liun weore.
and i-grap hine bi þan toppe ; and hine æfter him halede.
and ladde hine þurh and þurh ; and þurh-ut Cuninges-burh.
and wið-uten þere burh1e ; he hine lette binden.
Aldolf his swored adroh ; and Hengestes hafd of-sloh.
(C 8338-43)
(This was heard by Aldolf, who was Earl of Gloucester;

He leaped towards Hengest as if he were a lion.
And grabbed him by the hair, and after him he dragged him,
And led him all around, and right round Conisborough,
And outside the city he had him tied securely.
Aldolf drew his sword and struck off Hengest’s head.
Par l’example qu’Eldadus dist

Sailli Eldulf si prist Henguist,
Fors de la vile le mena,
S’espee traist sil decola
(7887-90)
(Following the example Eldadus cited, Eldulf jumped up and seized

Hengist, led him out of the town, drew his sword and cut off his head.)
La1amon does not interpose any such explanatory phrase as Wace’s

‘Par l’example’, but moves straight to the summary justice meted out
in Wace’s account, and with added details. Hengest is grabbed igno-
miniously ‘bi þan toppe’ (according to the OED, it is the first time top
is recorded of the head) and dragged up and down through the streets
of Conisbrough, not just ‘[f]ors de la vile’. In both narratives, the se-
quence ends with Aurelius’s directive that Hengest should be buried
according to heathen custom; La1amon adds ‘and bad for þere sæule ;
þat <hire> neuere sæl neore’ (C 8346). The marginal insertion of hire
seems clumsy to me, although accepted by Brook and Leslie.11 Aure-
lius ‘prayed for the soul that would never be better’,12 an action in tune
with La1amon’s characterization of him as a generous ruler.
With Hengest’s death, Aldolf has avenged the day of the long
knives and he drops out of the story. His brother Ældad, the bishop of
Gloucester, is to make a second speech before he too vanishes. Again
he is the first of Aurelius’s train to speak (‘þe king wes mild-heorte ;
and heold hine stille’ [The king was compassionate and remained
quiet]; C 8391), and this time he urges mercy for Hengest’s son Octa
and his people. If, he argues, they are willing to accept ‘Cristindom’
(the Christian faith) with good faith, there is hope that some day they
may ‘du1eðliche’ (dutifully) worship the Lord (C 8404-6). La1amon
cuts from this speech a second biblical example,13 though not I think
out of sensibility:
‘Cil de Gabaon merci quistrent
Quant Judeu jadis les conquistrent;
Merci quistrent, merci truverent,
E Judeu quites les clamerent.
Ne devum mie estre peiur
Que Juideu furent a cel jur.’
(7949-54)
(‘Once upon a time the Gibeonites asked for mercy, when the Jews
conquered them. They sought mercy, they found mercy, and the Jews
released them. We should not be worse than the Jews were that day.’
With this omission, he evades a knee-jerk rhetorical flourishing that

the Britons should not behave worse than did the Jews when the Gibe-
onites sued for mercy. After all, in retaining the earlier exemplum, he
does not focus on the Jews as Agag’s enemy (Wace 7857: ‘Les
Judeus’) but on Jerusalem as where Saul lived, a city epitomizing the
Holy Land. The detail that Samuel is ‘a witi1e of Israel’ (a prophet of
Israel; C 8322, cf. Wace 7868) happens to provide an alternative iden-
tification, a sort of variation by no means unusual elsewhere in the
poem.
126 Jane Roberts
If we think back to La1amon’s first mention of Jerusalem,14 it

comes in the opening lines of Taleisin’s prophecy:
‘Her beoð to þisse londe icumen ; seolcuðe leod-ronen.
and from-war[d] þeon londe of Ierusalem ; iwurðen heo beoð in
Beðleem.
Þer is iboren an luttel child ; inne þere leoden.’
(C 4549-51; cf. Wace 4850-76)
(‘To this land there have come mysterious doctrines,

From the land of Jerusalem of what has happened in Bethlehem;
A little child has been born there in that land’)
Our useful phrase the Holy Land was not as yet, so far as I can tell, in
common use (OED records it first for 1297, the MED for c.1225, and I
have not found an antecedent phrase in the DOE database), and the
country is here the ‘londe of Ierusalem’, i.e. the country defined by a
prominent feature, the city of Jerusalem. Eric Stanley has shown us
how La1amon, in the lengthy exchange between Kinbelin and Teilisin
about ‘glad tidings out of Jerusalem’, has added ‘what as a preacher
immediately concerns him’ (Stanley 2002: 13), and it was as I listened
to his lecture at the London La1amon conference back in 2000 that I
began to think over the appearances of this place-name in La1amon’s
Brut, where it occurs much more frequently than in Wace’s text. Wace
names Jerusalem in his account of Elene’s journey to find the Cross
(‘En Jerusalem trespassa’ [travelled to Jerusalem]; 5721), as does
La1amon (‘to Ierusalem wende’ [Went to Jerusalem]; C 5566). But if
Wace imports the legend of the finding of the Cross into his chronicle
at the point at which Constantine becomes king, for La1amon Elene is
already the finder of the Cross when she first appears as Coel’s well-
educated daughter. A few lines look forward to her as ruler in Jeru-
salem, ‘leoden to blissen’:
Þes king hæfuede enne dohter ; þe wes him swiðe deore.
and he al þis kinelond ; bitahte þan maidene an hond.
for næfde he nan oðer child ; þe mihte i þissen londe beon king.
Þat mæide hehte Elene ; seoððen heo wes quene.
i þan londe of Ierusalem ; leoden to blissen.
Þis maiden wes wel itæht ; on bocken heo cuðe godne cræft.
and wunede in þisse londe ; mid hire fader stronge.
(C 5443-49; cf. Wace 5605 ff.)
(This king had a daughter; to him she was most dear,

And the whole of his kingdom he placed in that young girl’s hand,
For he had no other child who could become king in this land.
This girl was called Helena; later she was Queen
In the district of Jerusalem, to the joy of all the people.
The girl was well instructed: from books she knew much information,
And lived in this land with her father who was strong.)
A similar change creeps in with a later reference to Elene. Wace men-

tions her as a relative of the heir for whom Octaue should send to
Rome:
Mais enveit pur Maximian,
Ki a Rome ert, filz Joëlin,
Cusins Elene e Constentin,
Des Bretuns nez de par sun pere,
E des Romains de par sa mere;
(5824-28)
(but Maximien should be sent for in Rome, son of Joelin, cousin to

Eleine and Constantine, a Briton on his father’s side and on his
mother’s, a Roman.)
Instead, La1amon puts a lengthy speech into Cradoc’s mouth, in which

Elene is not submerged in explanation of family relationships but
leaps out as ‘Ierusalem quene’ (Jerusalem’s queen; C 5703). And as
the centuries have rolled on, Geoffrey’s imaginative identification of
Elene, mother of Constantine, as daughter of good king Coel of
Colchester, has left its mark not just in English literature but in many
church dedications, especially around York.
When reading La1amon’s telling of the story of Britain, we think
of a specific location, on the banks of the Severn, at Areley Kings (C,
O 3), near Redstone Rock (C, O 5). Behind La1amon, of course, lies
Wace, the Jersey man who completed his Roman de Brut in 1155, and
the underlying geography of the story was created by Geoffrey of
Monmouth by 1139, for whom ‘a patronage network may have
extended from Monmouth into the west midlands of England’ (Crick:
ODNB). It is interesting to recall that Geoffrey’s main dedicatee for
his Historia was Robert, earl of Gloucester, whose lands included
Glamorgan and Gwynllŵg, to the west of Monmouth, for the brothers
Aldolf and Ældad are among the doughty men of Gloucester in Geof-
frey’s history. For the most part the places named in La1amon’s Brut
are already in Wace. Occasionally La1amon tweaks an etymology, yet
overall he does not alter the inherited physical geography of a world
where London, or Trinovant or New Troy or Kaerlud or indeed Port
128 Jane Roberts
Lud (C 3559 = Wace’s ‘Porlud’ 3788), looms largest in numbers of

references, with Rome weighing in second.
For England, there are five place-names in La1amon’s Brut not
already to be found in Wace.15 Three are in the south-west. ‘Ælenge’
or Allington (7579 C, ‘Elinge’ O), the meeting-place for the day of the
long knives,16 is four miles south-east of Amesbury and five miles
from Stonehenge. ‘Wiltun-scire’ or Wiltshire (10487 C, line absent
from O) crops up in the fleshing out Childric’s southern conquests.17
And in locating the island on which Cadwaðlan and Brien land when
fleeing from Ireland to Brittany as near ‘Gernemuðe’ or Yarmouth (C
15245, ‘1ernem…’ O), La1amon may indicate Freshwater Isle, the area
at the western end of the Isle of Wight, west of the River Yar, which
used to be a separate island (Blenner-Hassett 1950: 37). Behind the
numerous variants to be found in Wace lies Geoffrey of Monmouth’s
‘Garnareia’ or Guernsey.18 Here some such form as the variant ‘Ger-
nemue’ chosen by Weiss in her edition of Wace could well have
prompted La1amon’s Yarmouth; however she gives ‘Guernsey’ in her
translation. Further north and to the other side of the country,
‘Grimesbi’ or Grimsby (11323 C, O) is named as the port at which
Arthur arrives before the twelve years of peace. For Tatlock, pointing
out that Arthur receives submissions in Ireland, this is ‘a very unlikely
port’ for his return home.19 Yet, Grimsby, the stuff of legend as Have-
lok’s city, might have had about it an air of glamour in La1amon’s
day.20 As for London, most places named specifically were already in
La1amon’s sources: Billingsgate (‘Bel1æs-1ate’ C 3021 ~ ‘Belynes1at’
O; ‘Bæl1es-1ate’ C 7519 ~ ‘Bellinges-1ate’ O); Ludgate (C 3560
‘Ludes1ate’ ~ ‘Loudesgate’ O; also O 3558 ‘Ludes gate’); the North
Gate (Nennius was buried ‘at þon norð 1æte’ [at the north gate] C
3799 ~ Wace 4120 ‘a la porte nort’ [at the north gate]); the river
Walbrook or ‘Wale-broc’ (C 5407, ‘Welebroc’ O). The Caligula text’s
‘in þe quarterne of Lunden’ (in London . . . in prison; 9627) does not
look like a naturalized proper noun (Wace has 8828-29 ‘a Lundres …
la chartre’ [the prison in London]), whereas the Otho text reads ‘in þe
tour of Londene’, substituting the name by which we know the Tower
of London when jettisoning an obsolescent word. All these are places
in the old city, which makes it the more interesting that La1amon adds
in a reference to Westminster. Brien, having arrived back in the
country at Southampton, travels straight to London and quickly goes
close to Westminster:
forð he gon liðe ; in-to Lundene.
and aneouste gunnen wende ; on-fast Westmustre.
and fraineden tiðinde ; of Edwine kinge.

(C 15329-31; O text lost)
(Onwards he travelled, up into London

And immediately went close to Westminster,
Asking for tidings of Edwin the king.)
La1amon here supplies Westminster, clearly separate from the old

city,21 as the city where news could be had of the king, a detail that
would have given immediacy to this episode.
Three more intruding names crop up for Europe near-by: the city
taken by Maximien, added as specific detail in his defeat of Humbalt
of Brittany, is named as Nantes (5859 C, O); Louvain is added three
times in campaigning through France (3605 C, O, 5911 C, O, 12694
C, O); and Maine is linked to the Tours area in the story of Brenne
(2765 C, O). The western shore-line nearest to England also gains
names oddly absent both from Wace and Geoffrey of Monmouth:
‘Frise’ (C 6652, ‘Frisye’ O), ‘Frislonde’ (C 11666, reflected in O
‘Islonde’), ‘Frislonde’ (C 12168, ‘Frisselond’ O) and ‘Fris-londe’ (C
15561, ‘Frislonde’ O).22 The first of these four passages introduces
two place-names not found in Wace. In the Roman de Brut Vortigern
terrifies the ex-monk Constant with news of the hosting of Danes and
Norwegians, ‘Que assemblé sunt li Daneis / E de Norwege li Norreis’
(that the Danes, and the Norwegians from Norway, are gathering;
6557-58). La1amon embroiders the opposition considerably, supplying
three dauntingly differentiated northern kings:
‘þat þe king of Norewæi1e. neowenliche wule hider uaren ;
and þere Densemonne king. þas Denen wulle at-sechen ;
and þe king of Rusie ræh1est alre cnihten.
and þe king of Gutlonde ; mid ferde swiðe stronge.
and þe king of Frise ; þer-uore me a-griseð.
Þa tiðende beoð stronge ; þe icumen beoð to londe.
her-uore ich æm swiðe adred ; for ne con ich nenne godne ræd.
buten we moten mid mihten ; senden æfter cnihten.’
(C 6648–55)
(‘That the king of Norway decided recently to come here,
And the King of the Danishmen will make request for Danes,
And the King of Russia for the most rigorous of knights,
And the King of Jutland, with a very strong army,
And the King of Frisia (which sets me shivering).
‘Most serious is this news which has arrived here on these shores:
It makes me deeply anxious because I can’t think of any solutions,
130 Jane Roberts
Unless with our authority we were to send for knights . . .’)
On the northern edge of Arthur’s world the incorporation of Russia

together with Gotland and Frisia carries with it the feel of aventure.23
Both Russia and Frisia or Frislond are countries mentioned neither by
Geoffrey nor Wace. Gotland does feature elsewhere in their worlds.
For example Wace’s ‘Doldanїed de Gollande’ (Doldani of Godland;
10305) is named among men summoned to a great court held by
Arthur at Caerlon, as he is in La1amon’s Brut:
Þer wes Gillomar þe king ; Irisce monnen deorling.
Maluerus king of Islonde ; Doldanet king. of Gutlonde.
Kin[g] Kailin of Frislonde ; Æscil king of Denelonde.
Þer wes Loð þe kene ; þe king wes bi Norðe.
and Gonwæis Orcaneie king ; ut-la1en deor-ling.
(C 12166–70)
(Gillomaur the king was there, favourite of the Irish,

Malverus, King of Iceland, King Doldanim of Jutland,
King Kailin of Frisia, Aescil king of Denmark;
Lot was there, the courageous, who was King in Norway,
And Gonwais King of Orkney, beloved of the outlaws)
Both Arthur, in lines 11665-66 (C, O), and Edwin, in lines 15561-62
(C 15562 lacks a parallel line in O), look to Gotlond and Frislond for
support, La1amon summoning up the names of these two countries
together to flesh out Wace’s roll-call on their behalf. It rather looks as
if for La1amon Gotland and Frise or Frislond formed a complementary
pair, the one easily triggering use of the other.24
But is La1amon necessarily tapping into the world of romance
when he looks farther afield, not just to Macedonia (14429 C, O lost),
but to Arraby (14431 C, O lost), to Ethiopia (12666 C, O, 13726 C,
O), Nubia (14431 C, O lost), Persia (14430 C, O lost) and Turkey
(12659 C, O, 13427 C, 14430 C, O lost)? The contexts for these
places, centred on two campaigns, involve explicit mention of heath-
ens, and the majority of these new names are scattered through the
account of Arthur’s thrust towards Rome. At the Great Saint Ber-
nard’s Pass the hosts massing against Arthur include ‘Irtac king of
Turckie’ (C 12659) and ‘bleomen’ (black men) from Ethiopia (C
12666); and Lucius can call upon a Libyan ‘dux’ (Duke) of the king of
Turkey (C 13427)25 when summoning a rescue party to go to the aid of
Petreius. From King Arthur’s point of view, the Romans are allied
with heathens, ‘Godd heo seondeð laðe. / ure Drihten heo bi-læueð ;
and to Mahune heo tuhteð’ (to God they are loathsome: / They
abandon our Lord God and give allegiance to Mahound; C 13635-36).
Lucius, indeed, is not above soft-soaping his pagan allies (‘Lauerding-
es quæd Luces þa ; Mahun eou beo liðe’ [‘Masters,’ Lucius spoke
again, ‘may Mahound show you his favour’]; C 13673). His Romans,
when hard pressed, have exotic reinforcements:
Þa comen þer kinges þreo ; of hæðene londe.
of Ethi[o]pe wes þe an ; þe oðer wes an Aufrican.
þe þridde wes of Libie ; of hæðene leode.
(C 13725-27)
(Then three kings arrived there who came from heathen lands:
The first was Ethiopian, the second was an African,
The third came from Libya, which is a heathen land.)
As Barron and Weinberg have pointed out, ‘The Roman alliance with
Islamic potentates and other pagan rulers gives a contemporary Cru-
sader-like tone to Arthur’s campaign against Lucius’.26 The remaining
few of these more exotic new names are concentrated in the listing of
the countries to which Gurmund sent for ‘strongen kempen’ (C
14436):
Gurmund was kempe ; i-costned on mæine.
and he wes þe strongeste mon ; þæ æi mon lokede on.
He bi-gon to sende ; 1eond al þan londe.
in-to Babilonie ; in-to Macedonie.
in Turkie. in-to Persie.
in-to Nubie. in-to Arrabie.
and bad alle þe 1eonglinges ; 1eond þa hæðene londes.
þat heo heom bi1eten ; wurðliche wepnen.
and he heom forð-rihtes ; wolden makien cnihtes.
and seo[ð]ðen mid heom wenden ; and fonden whar he mihten.
mid strongen kempen ; biwinnen kineriche.
Hit halde touward Aufrike of <feole> kuneriche.
monies riches monnes sune ; monie haðene gume.
comen to Gurmunde ; þan hæðene þringe.
(C 14426-39)
(Gurmund was a champion prized for his strength,

And he was the strongest man whom anyone has ever seen.
He proceeded to send throughout all the lands:
Into Babylon, and into Macedonia,
Into Turkey, into Persia,
Into Nubia, into Arabia,
132 Jane Roberts
And encouraged all the youngsters through all the heathen lands
To get for themselves suitable arms
And then he would instantly create them all knights,
And then would travel with them and make trial of where he could
With stalwart champions win himself a kingdom.
From many a kingdom there was movement towards Africa
Of many a great man’s son, of many a heathen man;
These came to Gurmund, to the heathen chieftain.)
This Gurmund is the last great pagan leader to invade Britain, and he
was to build a tower outside Cirencester,
Gurmund makede ænne tur ; þer-inne he bulde ænne bur.
þer-inne he pleo1ede his pla1en ; þa me luuede a þeon da1en.
þer-inne he hafde his maumet ; þa he heold for his god.
(C 14581-83)
(Gurmund constructed a keep and in it he built a chamber;

In this he followed his rituals which men favoured in those times:
He kept in it his maumet which he thought of as his god.)
In his elaboration of the Gurmund strand, La1amon deploys narrative

tactics similar to those used in the presentation of Lucius and his allies
(Cf. Barron and Weinberg 1995: 889, n. for p. 745).
My purpose with this excursus on place-names introduced by
La1amon into his Brut has been two-fold. First, in pointing out how
very few new names there are I have tried to show that the geography
of his poem is essentially as laid down by Wace. If there is any sig-
nificance in the names added for England and for Europe near at hand,
it seems idle to speculate on just why these names.27 There are a few
pointers to the south-west of England as La1amon’s comfort zone and
maybe even to first-hand knowledge of Westminster and London, but
little to catch a hold of. Secondly, in discussing the frequency of each
of these new names within the poem I have hoped to show that
differences in the use and distribution of place-names in Wace and
La1amon may help uncover in the English poem a larger shadow left
by the crusades than previously argued. La1amon, I would suggest,
was keenly aware of the emotive possibilities of exploiting resonances
from the conflict between Islam and Christendom in his age,28 no-
where more so than in his manipulation of the rôles of the Gloucester
brothers Ældad and Aldolf.
Notes
1
References throughout this paper are to the EETS edition of Brook and Leslie (1963
and 1978), unless otherwise specified, for La1amon’s Brut, and to Weiss (1999) for
Wace. C = Caligula manuscript, O = Otho. Translations for C are taken from Allen
(1992) and for Wace from Weiss (1999).
2
Le Saux sees Vortimer as ‘the crusader who reinstated Christianity in Britain, and
died a martyr of heathen duplicity’ (1989: 161).
3
O, rephrasing this passage, puts in the man’s hand ‘ane mochele club. for to breke
stones’ (a large club for breaking stones), thereby defining the club as a working-
man’s means of livelihood.
4
‘he hæf æne eorle al Kent ; ase hit bi Lundene went. / he hæf his stiwarde Æst-sex ; /
and his burðeine ; Middel-sax bitahte’ (He gave to an earl all Kent where near
London it extends; / He gave his steward Essex, / And to his butler he gave Middlesex
there; C 7661-63).
5
See Tatlock (1950: 272), who points out the positions of dapifer and pincerna in
Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Brut are ‘so obviously Norman as to need no illustration’.
6
Described by Hay as having the ‘ability to temper justice and clemency’ (2002:
308).
7
Perhaps to be identified not as Coninsborough in West Yorkshire but as Conis-
brough in South Yorkshire, the seat of the earls de Warenne where, in Geoffrey of
Monmouth’s time, a fine castle stood.
8
May be understood as for þa, ‘then’, whether explained as incomplete þeo = þa, or
in error for þa; the translation agrees with O’s ‘and’ reading.
9
The phrase ‘an ærming’ should be translated ‘a poor wretch’: see Roberts,
forthcoming.
10
Le Saux suggests that La1amon may be trying to minimize Hengest’s role and that
his ‘omission of all mention of mothers mourning their dead children (Wace 7879-4)
in Aldad’s considerations about what to do with the defeated Hengest, may also be
due to the desire to avoid Hengest’s humanity (and that of this mother) mitigating the
reader’s condemnation of him’ (1989: 35).
11
Admittedly, the pronoun ‘hir(e)’ is tucked neatly against the right-hand margin of
the second column on fol. 97v and looks like the scribe’s addition.
12
Allen (1992: 439, note for 8345-46) observes that ‘the prayer for no salvation is one
of Lawman’s own jokes’, and Barron and Weinberg (1995: 870-71, note for p. 429)
suggest that La1amon ‘underlines the ambivalence of his [Hengest’s] violent death and
honourable burial, with for he wes swa oht cniht and the prayer that no good should
come to his soul’. O is without C’s line 8346.
13
Which Wace had from Geoffrey of Monmouth.
14
Wace’s earlier mention of Jerusalem, lines 1511-17, which is absent from La1amon
(say about line 1327), would have aligned Ebrauc with the Old Testament King
David, described not only as the author of the psalms but as the founder of Bethlehem
and builder of Jerusalem’s tower, and the prophet Nathan, as well as with ‘Silvius
Latins’ in Italy. Stanley (2002: 13, n.24) notes this omission and the reference to Saul
as a contemporary of Membriz (line 1469).
15
Two English towns are not sourced to Wace (or Geoffrey of Monmouth) by
Blenner-Hasset (1950): ‘Herford’ or Hereford (12145 C, ‘Hereforde’ O), but see
Wace 10259 ‘Guerguint, li cuens de Hereford’ (Guerguint, count of Hereford); and
‘Warwic’ or Warwick (12150 C, ‘Warewike’ O), for which see Wace 10267 ‘E
Argahl de Waruic, uns cuens’ (and Argahl from Warwick, a count). Weiss 1999: 259,
134 Jane Roberts
n.2), points out Guerguint of Hereford is an addition by Wace to those present at

Arthur’s Whitsun crown-wearing.
16
Cf. Wace 7227-30 for Salisbury Plain, near Amesbury Abbey.
17
Cf. Wace 9241-47.
18
For which see Arnold 1940: ii, 815). Arnold rejects all the manuscript variants,
supplying instead ‘Gernerui’, a form recorded once in the single manuscript for
Wace’s Roman de Rou; he notes ‘Gernemue’ in three manuscripts.
19
Tatlock (1950: 500). In Wace 9729 Arthur returns to ‘Engleterre’.
20
A fishing and trading centre, it was granted a charter by King John in 1201 and
appointed its first mayor in 1218.
21
A few lines later Allen (1992: 391) has Brien move ‘out of London city’, a helpful
rendering of the phrase ‘ut of Lundene’ (C 15336).
22
O’s substitution of ‘Frisie’ for Phrygia (12661, ‘Frigie’ C), a misidentification not
uncommon in Wace manuscripts (line 11102; see Arnold 1940: ii, 832) led to my
overlooking their addition. I must thank Rosamund Allen both for alerting me to
La1amon’s having added these names and for her helpful comments on this paper.
23
Cf. 11227 C, O and 11278 C (O omits line here). When earlier I examined these
passages (2000: 77-80), I did not note that the name Russia is not in Wace.
24
Cf. their use side by side in the fifteenth-century chronicle of Hardyng, ‘Denmarke,
Friselande, Gotelande, & Norway’ (see MED under ‘Frislond’). Allen (1998) argues
that the Frisian references could have been designed to appeal to William de Frise,
whom she identifies as La1amon’s patron and knight of Areley. However, avoidance
of the old-fashioned adjective in ‘at æðelen are chirechen’ may explain O’s invention
‘wid þan gode cniþte’ in line 3, as I argued at the Brown conference in 2004 (Roberts,
forthcoming).
25
The second half of line 13427 suggests confusion lies behind both C and O. Allen
(1992), pp. 457–58, draws attention to other ‘discrepancies’ in the names in this
passage.
26
Barron and Weinberg (1995: 885, n. for p. 701). Tatlock points out that Geoffrey of
Monmouth ‘conveys the impression that Arthur’s enemies are pagan and Moslem’
(1950: 262).
27
It would be tempting to tease something out of Louvain (Leuven, Belgium, the
central city of Flemish Brabant).
28
Allen (1998), 11, argues that La1amon’s Brut, if completed c.1216, ‘would simul-
taneously inspire stability at home and zeal for the Fifth Crusade’.
Bibliography
Primary Sources – Manuscript
London, British Library, Cotton MS Caligula A. ix
Primary Sources – Texts

La1amon. Brut. Edited from British Museum MS Cotton Caligula A.ix and British
Museum MS Cotton Otho C.xiii. 2 vols. Ed. G. L. Brook and R. F. Leslie.
EETS OS 250, 277. London: Oxford University Press, 1963, 1978).
–––. Brut or Hystoria Brutonum. Ed. W. R. J. Barron and S. C. Weinberg. Harlow,
Essex: Longman Group, 1995.
[–––] Lawman: Brut. Trans. Rosamund Allen. London: Dent, 1992.
[Wace] Le Roman de Brut de Wace. 2 vols. Ed. I. Arnold. Société des anciens textes
français. Paris, 1938, 1940.
Wace’s ‘Roman de Brut’. A History of the British. Ed. and trans. Judith Weiss. Exeter:
University of Exeter Press, 1999.
Databases
DOE – Dictionary of Old English Corpus
MED – The Middle English Compendium <quod.lib.umich.edu/m/mec/>
OED – Oxford English Dictionary Online
ODNB – Oxford Dictionary of National Biography
Allen, Rosamund (1992). See Lawman: Brut.
––– (1998). ‘Eorles and Beornes: Contextualizing Lawman’s Brut.’ Arthuriana 8.3: 4-
22.
–––, Lucy Perry and Jane Roberts, ed. (2002). La1amon: Contexts, Language, and
Interpretation. King’s College London Medieval Studies, XIX. London: King’s
College London Centre for Late Antique and Medieval Studies.
Roland Blenner-Hassett, Roland (1950). A Study of the Place-Names in Lawman’s
Brut. Stanford University Publications, University Series, Language and
Literature IX. Pp. 1-77.
Crick, Julia C. ‘Geoffrey of Monmouth.’ Entry in ODNB [http://www.oxforddnb.com/
view/article/10530, last accessed 8 August 2010].
Davies, H. S. (1960). ‘La1amon’s similes.’ Review of English Studies 11: 129-42.
Hay, Lucy (2002). ‘Measure of Kingship in La1amon’s Brut.’ In Allen, Perry and
Roberts (2002). Pp. 299-312.
Le Saux, Françoise H. M. (1989). La1amon’s Brut: The Poem and its Sources.
Cambridge: D. S. Brewer.
Roberts, Jane (2000). ‘Two Notes on La1amon’s Brut.’ In New Perspectives on
Middle English Texts: a Festschrift for Ronald Waldron. Ed. Susan Powell and
Jeremy J. Smith. Cambridge: Boydell and Brewer. Pp. 75-85.
––– (forthcoming). ‘Getting La1amon’s Brut into sharper focus.’ In Reading
La1amon’s Brut: approaches and explorations. Ed. Rosamund Allen, Jane
Roberts and Carole Weinberg.
Stanley, E. G. (2002). ‘La1amon: Priest and Historiographer.’ In Allen, Perry and
Roberts (2002). Pp. 1-38.
Tatlock, John S. P. (1950). The Legendary History of Britain. Geoffrey of Mon-
mouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae and its early vernacular versions. Berkeley
and Los Angeles: University of California Press.
TROY STORY: THE MEDIEVAL WELSH YSTORYA DARED AND
THE BRUT TRADITION OF BRITISH HISTORY
Helen Fulton
Abstract
The Middle Welsh Ystorya Dared is a vernacular version, in prose,
of the destruction of Troy. It gets its name from Dares Phrygius, the
putative writer of the sixth-century Latin ‘eye-witness’ version, De
Excidio Troiae Historia. Written in the early fourteenth century,
Ystorya Dared pre-dates any of the four Middle English versions
and appears to be based directly on the Latin text of Dares, unlike
the English versions which drew on the intermediary texts of Guido
delle Colonne and his predecessor Benoît de Saint-Maure. The text
of Ystorya Dared appeared in the milieu of the Welsh Cistercian
monasteries and is closely connected to the development of a native
historiography based on the work of Geoffrey of Monmouth. This
paper argues that Ystorya Dared was regarded as a chronicle rather
than a fictional romance, and that it was deliberately attached to the
native Welsh chronicles in order to create a continuous history of
the British people from their Trojan origins to the Edwardian con-
quest of Wales in 1282.
Nearly all the surviving texts of Ystorya Dared are found together
with one or more of the three brutiau, Welsh versions of Latin
chronicles of the early history of Britain. Brut y Brenhinedd is the
main Welsh version of Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum
Britanniae, translated in the thirteenth century. The fourteenth-century
Brut y Tywysogyon is a native Welsh chronicle based on a lost Latin
original, both of which were most probably compiled at the Cistercian
abbey of Strata Florida in west Wales. It is basically a continuation of
Geoffrey’s Historia, starting where Geoffrey left off, with the death of
Cadwaladr, and ending, significantly, with the death of Llywelyn ap
Gruffydd in 1282. Brenhinedd y Saesson, also based on a lost Latin
text, combines an account of Welsh history with events happening in
England up to 1197, with a continuation into the fifteenth century in
one of the early surviving manuscripts (Aberystwyth, National Library
138 Helen Fulton
of Wales MS 7006D, dated to c.1500, which continues to 1461; the

earliest copy, London, British Library, MS Cotton Cleopatra B.v,
dated to the early fourteenth century, is incomplete and ends in
1197).1 The texts can be summarised as follows:
Brut y Brenhinedd (BB), ‘History of the Kings’, a translation of Geof-
frey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae (13th C)
Brut y Tywysogyon (BT), ‘History of the Princes’, a continuation of
Geoffrey’s HRB up to 1282, based on a lost Latin text of the late
thirteenth century (14th C)
Brenhinedd y Saesson (BS), ‘Kings of the Saxons’, a different and
independent continuation of Geoffrey’s HRB based on a lost
Latin text containing materials from British and English history
(14th C)
In the medieval manuscript tradition, Ystorya Dared is invariably
found together with one or more of these Welsh chronicles. It there-
fore functions as a sort of preface to Geoffrey’s account of early
British history and its Welsh continuations, a preface which esta-
blished the noble Trojan origins of the people of Britain. To Welsh
audiences of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, the Troy story
possessed the status of an historical chronicle in the conventional mo-
nastic style, translated from an authorised Latin source and including
Troy and the Trojans as part of the legitimate prehistory of Britain.
Creating a vernacular history of Wales

With regard to Ystorya Dared as a translation from Latin originals, it
is fairly clear that the medieval translators – and there were more than
one – were not aiming for a word-for-word or literal translation. While
the various versions of the Welsh text follow their Latin sources
reasonably closely, there is plenty of room for different readings,
adaptations of the material, expansions and omissions. From about 45
surviving manuscripts, dating from the fourteenth to eighteenth cen-
turies, we can identify two main versions of Ystorya Dared, based on
different Latin versions of Dares Phrygius, which partly explains the
textual differences but which leaves open the role of scribal creativity
and originality. As Rita Copeland has shown, medieval translators
based their practice largely on Latin rhetorical models, where transla-
tion was regarded as a type of exegesis. The concept of interpretatio,
meaning both ‘exegesis’ and ‘translation’, was understood by many
early-medieval commentators as the explanation of a text delivered in
the process of translating it into another language (Copeland 1991: 87-
92).
Troy Story: The Medieval Welsh Ystorya Dared 139
It is this process of translation as a practice largely inseparable

from exegesis and interpretation that has produced the vernacular text
of Ystorya Dared. The authors are very conscious of their original
texts but they are also aware that they are creating something
specifically for their local audiences and patrons; they are shaping the
traditions of the past into a modernised version which makes sense in
the context of medieval Wales. The act of translation is therefore an
act of interpretation where the writer edits the past, remediating it into
a living present, trying to stay loyal to ancient tradition and belief
while at the same time innovating and modernising.
The central modernising project for learned men in Wales in the
late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries was the writing of a new
vernacular history of Wales, one that provided a seamless and rational
account of a people’s struggle with a colonising power, a history that
would explain and contextualise the conquest of north Wales by
Edward I in 1282. The old version of British history, preserved in
Latin annals and surfacing occasionally in vernacular Welsh literature,
such as the tenth-century prophetic poem, Armes Prydein, was struc-
tured around the loss of British sovereignty over the island of Britain
when the Saxons invaded (see Roberts 1976; Fulton 2001). The usur-
pation of the Saxons as the sovereign rulers of a great British empire,
and the determination of the Welsh that the Saxons should be driven
out, was the framing narrative of early Welsh historiography: ‘poet
kynt eu reges yn alltuded / no mynet Kymry yn diffroed’ (sooner may
they [the Saxons] retreat into exile than that the Welsh should become
homeless; lines 43-44), sang the anonymous poet of Armes Prydein.
With the devastating blow caused by the death of Llywelyn ap
Gruffudd in 1282, following centuries of Norman and Anglo-Norman
expansion in Wales, this frame story of conquest and retribution
became redundant. A new narrative was required, and Welsh scribes,
writing for aristocratic patrons, constructed it from materials they had
to hand. The most important of these were Geoffrey of Monmouth’s
Historia Regum Britanniae and the monastic annals compiled in
Welsh Cistercian foundations, originally in Latin but from the thir-
teenth century onwards increasingly in Welsh.
The pervading theme of Geoffrey’s Historia is the unity of
Britain as a nation, ruled by a single king, before the coming of the
Saxons. From Brutus to Cadwaladr, the Historia gives a chronological
account of what Brynley Roberts calls ‘the rise to greatness of a fa-
voured people and their decline and loss of sovereignty’ (1991: 102).
The British hopes of ridding the island of the Saxons are fantasised in
140 Helen Fulton
the form of prophecies, while Geoffrey makes no bones about blaming

the British people themselves for the arrogance and degeneracy which
led to the Saxon conquest.
Geoffrey’s Historia clearly circulated in Wales and had some au-
thority as the standard history of early Britain, but it was not translated
into Welsh until the first half of the thirteenth century, under the
general title of Brut y Brenhinedd, ‘The History of the Kings’. By the
thirteenth century, England’s political struggle with Wales was reach-
ing its zenith, culminating in the conquest of 1282. Geoffrey’s history,
minus most of its anti-British rhetoric in the Welsh translations, vali-
dated the existence of a sovereign British nation before the coming of
the Saxons, and this made it an important document to circulate in the
vernacular among leading Welsh dynasties fighting for their survival.
In the wake of 1282, a native historical chronicle, based on monastic
annals, also began circulating as a continuation of Geoffrey’s His-
toria. This was the Brut y Tywysogyon, ‘The History of the Princes’,
which begins where Geoffrey left off, with the reign of Cadwaladr:
Ac yn y vlwydyn hono [680-682] y bu varw Katwaladyr Uendigeit vab
Catwallawn vab Catuan, brenhin y Bryttanyeit, yn Rufein y deudecuet
dyd o Vei, megys y proffwydassei Vyrdin kyn no hyny vrth Wrtheyrn
Gortheneu. (BT Hergest, p. 2)
(And in that year [680-682] Cadwaladr the Blessed, son of Cadwallon son
of Cadfan, king of the Britons, died in Rome on the twelfth day of May,
as Myrddin [Merlin] had prophesied before then to Gwrtheyrn Gwrthenau
[Vortigern].) (my translation)
This native chronicle ends in 1282, the year that the last prince of
north Wales, Llywelyn ap Gruffudd, was killed in battle against the
English and Wales lost the last remaining structures of its political
autonomy.
Another native chronicle, Brenhinedd y Saesson, ‘The Kings of
the Saxons’, represents an independent version of the same or similar
Latin annals which provided the source for Brut y Tywysogyon.2
While the latter could be regarded as a literal attempt to carry out
Geoffrey’s instruction in his colophon to the Historia, that the history
of the Welsh princes after Cadwaladr should now be written, Bren-
hinedd y Saesson, combining a history of the Welsh princes with an
account of the Saxon and Norman kings, could be seen as an effort to
carry out Geoffrey’s second instruction, that a history of the kings of
the Saxons should be written.3 Less well-known than the other
chronicles, Brenhinedd y Saesson represents another attempt by Welsh
scribes to provide a continuation of Geoffrey’s Historia and a dia-

chronic explanation of Wales’s relationship to the English state.
To some extent, these two continuations, Brut y Tywysogyon and
Brenhinedd y Saesson, can be read as responses to Geoffrey’s accu-
sation that the British people lost their kingdom because of their own
failures of vision and leadership. Using the dispassionate and stately
tenor of the monastic chronicle, the authors recount the ebb and flow
of Welsh fortunes against the Saxons, the Normans and finally the
English, never avoiding the fact that the Welsh often fought against
each other but at the same time presenting historical events from the
Welsh point of view, which is inevitably shaped by the past. For the
year 1114, when Henry I and his Norman barons were struggling with
the Welsh, the scribe of Brut y Tywysogyon says:
Yghyfrwg hynny yd anuones Ywein kennadeu at Gruffud ac Ywein, y
vab, y erchi vdunt gwneuthur yn gadarn hedwch y rygtunt yn erbyn y
gelynnyon, y rei yd oedynt yn aruaethu y dileu yn gwbyl neu y gwarchae
yn y mor, hyt nat enwit Bryttannawl enw yn tragywydawl. (BT Hergest,
pp. 78-80)
At this time Owain [ap Cadwgan, a ruler of Powys] sent messengers to

Gruffudd [ap Cynan, prince of Gwynedd] and Owain, his son, to ask them
to make peace strongly amongst themselves against their enemies [i.e. the
Normans], those who were planning to destroy them completely or to
drive them into the sea, so that the British name could not be used ever
again. (my translation)
While the scribe does not attempt to explain or excuse the often
violent extremes of the Welsh, he does not shrink from presenting the
constant threat of cultural and political extinction faced by the Welsh
after the Saxon and Norman conquests. But the old rhetoric of Welsh
reprisals against the Saxons, expressing hopes for a definitive reoccu-
pation of the whole of Britain under British rule, is notably absent
from both Brut y Tywysogyon and Brenhinedd y Saesson, partly due to
their sober monastic origins, but perhaps partly due also to an accept-
ance of the political reality of post-1282 Wales.
The appearance of Ystorya Dared in fourteenth-century Wales

Where does Ystorya Dared fit into this narrative of Welsh history? If
Brut y Tywysogyon and Brenhinedd y Saesson are in some ways se-
quels to Geoffrey’s Historia, then the Ystorya Dared can be regarded
as its prequel. Geoffrey’s own history began with the Trojans and their
arrival in Britain; the use of an authentic and apparently contemporary
142 Helen Fulton
account of the Trojan war, translated into Welsh, provided strong sup-
port for Geoffrey’s account of the Trojan origins of the British people.
Ystorya Dared, like the other historical chronicles, is the product
of a long and conservative tradition of Latin learning and scholarship
which shaped vernacular literature in Wales. The immediate sources
of the two main versions of Ystorya Dared are two slightly different
versions of the Latin text attributed to Dares Phrygius, De excidio
Troiae historia (Owens 1951: clxxxiii). This text, supposedly a trans-
lation of a lost Greek original dating from the first century A.D., dates
from the sixth century and purports to be an eye-witness account by
Dares of the Trojan War, in which he fought on the Trojan side.4 The
Dares account differs quite significantly from that of Virgil in his
Aeneid, and although Virgil’s text was widely admired in the Middle
Ages, the accounts of Dares and another pseudo-historian, Dictys of
Crete, who represented the Greek side of the story, were thought to be
authentic and contemporary accounts of the fall of Troy rather than
literary imaginings.
These supposedly historical accounts of the destruction of Troy
laid the foundation for an entire medieval tradition, starting with the
French romance composed by Benoît de Saint-Maure, the Roman de
Troie, in c.1160, and going through to Boccaccio’s Il Filostrato and
Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde in the fourteenth century. Benoît
based his romance on the combined accounts of Dares and Dictys,
with the addition of large amounts of romantic paraphernalia in-
cluding passionate love stories, supernatural marvels and heroic deeds
of valour. Perhaps the most influential version for medieval writers
was the Latin prose text produced by Guido delle Colonne in 1287,
the Historia Destructionis Troiae, an adaptation of Benoît’s vernacu-
lar romance into a more historicised Latin account with most of the
love stories and marvels reduced or eliminated.5 Guido claimed in his
text that he was presenting the authentic history of the Trojan war
based on the accounts of Dares and Dictys, though he probably knew
nothing more about them than their names, which he took from
Benoît. Yet his work, carefully crafted into the discourse of historical
chronicle, was accepted as a true history, one based on authoritative
accounts, unlike the suspicions which hung about Geoffrey of
Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae. The main sources of the
Troy legend for medieval writers in Britain and Ireland can be
summarised as follows:
Dictys of Crete, Ephemeris belli Troiani (4th C), representing the
Greek viewpoint
Dares Phrygius, De excidio Troiae historia (6th C), representing the

Trojan viewpoint
Benoît de Saint-Maure, Roman de Troie, c. 1160 (based on Dares and
Dictys)
Guido delle Colonne, Historia Destructionis Troiae, 1287 (an
adaptation of Benoît)
Guido’s authenticated account was the most popular version of the
legend throughout the Middle Ages. It was translated into a number of
vernaculars, with at least 150 manuscripts surviving, and at least eight
printed versions appeared between 1473 and 1494. It also formed the
basis of three major Middle English narratives of Troy: the Gest Hys-
toriale of the Destruction of Troy (1350-1400), the Laud Troy Book
(c.1400) and Lydgate’s Troy Book, composed between 1412 and
1420.6
There are three other vernacular versions of the Troy story that
are based not on Guido delle Colonne’s version, but on the Latin text
of Dares Phrygius. The earliest of these is the Irish version, Togail
Troí, found in the twelfth-century Book of Leinster but thought to
have been composed in the first half of the eleventh century (Mac
Gearailt 2000-2001, Meyer 1980). This makes it the earliest verna-
cular version of the Troy story, pre-dating Benoît’s French romance of
1160. A second version based on Dares is the Middle English Seege
or Batayle of Troye, which survives in four manuscripts, the earliest of
which dates from the fourteenth century. The editor of this text, Mary
Barnicle, suggests that it was based on an original English minstrel
poem composed in the first quarter of the fourteenth century (Barnicle
1927: xxxiii-xxxvii). And finally we come to the Welsh Ystorya
Dared, also composed or written down in the early fourteenth century
and based on the Latin text attributed to Dares Phrygius. The chrono-
logy of these vernacular versions of the Troy story can be summarised
in this table:
Date Text Source

11th C Togail Troí Dares
1300-25 Ystorya Dared Dares
1300-50 Seege or Batayle of Troye Dares
1350-1400 Gest Hystoriale of the Destruction of Troy Guido
c.1340 Boccaccio, Il Filostrato Guido and Benoît
c.1385 Chaucer, Troilus and Criseyde Boccaccio
1400 Laud Troy Book Guido
1412-1420 Lydgate, Troy Book Guido and Benoît
144 Helen Fulton
What we see from this chronology of vernacular Troy stories are two
more or less separate strands, one based on Guido delle Colonne’s
Latin history but with echoes of Benoît’s French romance, and the
other based on the supposedly authentic eye-witness account written
by Dares Phrygius and regarded by medieval writers as the true his-
tory of the destruction of Troy. The group of three vernacular versions
to which Ystorya Dared belongs are, I would suggest, representative
of a conservative culture of Latin learning associated with the monas-
tic traditions of Ireland, Wales and England, while the other Middle
English texts, the ‘Guido’ versions, represent a secular urban context
of writers and gentry audiences. It is particularly interesting that the
one Middle English text based on Dares, rather than on Guido, the
Seege or Batayle of Troye, has strong connections with Wales – it was
written in the March of Wales around Hereford or Shrewsbury and is
associated with the abbey of Shrewsbury and its patron the Earl of
Shrewsbury (Barnicle 1927: xxvi-xxvii). There is, I believe, a strong
case for regarding the Seege or Batayle of Troy as one of the earliest
examples of Welsh writing in English. So the Dares tradition, repre-
senting an older Latin culture, seems to have flourished in Wales and
the March, whereas the Guido tradition was preferred by English
writers, perhaps because of its association with French courtly
romance.
The manuscript tradition of Ystorya Dared

There are about 45 surviving copies of Ystorya Dared, but many of
these are later copies of earlier versions. In the preface to his printed
text of the Red Book version, J. Gwenogvryn Evans identified two
main versions, one represented by the Red Book of Hergest (Oxford,
Jesus College MS 111, now in the Bodleian Library), and the other by
British Library, Cotton Cleopatra B.v.7 The provenance of the Red
Book of Hergest is well known, and this manuscript forms one of the
most important sources of medieval Welsh literature and history. It is
a massive compilation of prose, poetry and history transcribed some
time after 1382 by Hywel Fychan at the request of his patron, Hopyn
ap Tomas of south Wales, the man who was consulted by Owain Glyn
Dŵr as a master of brut, or prophecy.8 The Red Book version of Brut
y Tywysogyon follows its Latin original, probably compiled at Strata
Florida, in finishing at the year 1282, suggesting that this date was
understood to mark the end of an era.9
BL Cotton Cleopatra B.v, representing the second variant, is one
of the earliest manuscripts containing Ystorya Dared. The manuscript
contains four texts in what were originally three separate manuscripts

later bound into a single volume: the first manuscript contained a
version of Brut y Brenhinedd followed by Brenhinedd y Saesson; the
second contained the Laws of Hywel Dda, and the third contained
Ystorya Dared, written by a scribal hand which can be identified with
the abbey of Valle Crucis around 1330.10 Valle Crucis, near Llan-
gollen in north Wales, was one of the Cistercian abbeys which served
the Welsh nobility and gentry from the twelfth century onwards. It
was a daughter house of Strata Marcella, near Welshpool, also known
for its production of vernacular manuscripts.
Llyfr Du Basing, ‘The Black Book of Basingwerk’, or National
Library of Wales 7006D, closely follows the text of BL Cotton
Cleopatra B.v, though is not a direct copy of it, and, unlike the latter,
it is complete and legible.11 It is a composite manuscript which starts
in a late-fourteenth-century hand which has transcribed Ystorya Dared
and part of Brut Tysilio, another version of Geoffrey’s Historia close-
ly related to Brut y Brenhinedd. It then continues in a fifteenth-century
hand which has been identified as that of the poet Gutun Owain (fl.
1460-1500), who has added the rest of Brut Tysilio and Brenhinedd y
Saesson extended to the year 1461 (Jones 1971: xviii-xix; Lloyd 1928:
390-91). Gutun Owain is associated with the Cistercian abbey of
Basingwerk (in Flintshire, north Wales) but Daniel Huws suggests that
Valle Crucis is a more likely place of origin of the manuscript, which
makes another link between Valle Crucis and the writing of histories
in Welsh, including Ystorya Dared.12
Along with Strata Florida and Whitland, these Cistercian founda-
tions were responsible for most of the translations of historical chron-
icles from Latin into Welsh in the decades immediately following the
watershed of 1282. The intention of this work is clear: stimulated by
the post-conquest nationalism of local Welsh landowners and gentry,
monastic scribes drew on their libraries of Latin chronicles, borrowing
texts from each other when necessary, to compose continuations, in
Latin, of existing chronicles, including Geoffrey’s Historia, and to
translate these and other works of history, such as Dares’ De excidio
Troiae historia, into Welsh versions for gentry households.
The two main variants of Ystorya Dared, which I have here call-
ed Version A and Version B, represent separate translations from two
variant versions of the Latin text of Dares Phrygius. The fourteenth-
and fifteenth-century manuscripts in each group can be summarised as
follows, with their chronicle content in brackets:
146 Helen Fulton
Manuscripts Chronicles Date

VERSION A NLW Mostyn 116 YD + BB + BT Late 14th C
BL Add. 19709 YD + BB Late 14th C
Cardiff I.362 YD + BB + BT Mid 14th C
NLW Peniarth 19 YD + BB + BT c.1400
Jesus College 111 YD + BB + BT c.1400
(Red Book of Hergest)
NLW Peniarth 46 and 47i BB + YD Mid 14th C
(in same hand)13
VERSION B BL Cotton Cleopatra B.v BB + BS + YD Early 14th C

NLW 7006D YD + BB + BS Late 15th C
(Black Book of
Basingwerk)
Jesus College 141 YD + BB + BT Late 15th C
NLW Peniarth 25 YD + BB c.1500
Significantly, these two main groups of manuscripts of Ystorya Dared

correspond to two main groups of manuscripts of Brut y Tywysogyon
and Brenhinedd y Saesson. The versions of Brut y Tywysogyon in Pen-
iarth 19, Mostyn 116 and the Red Book of Hergest are closely related
to each other, as are the texts of Ystorya Dared found in these manu-
scripts. Similarly, the versions of Brenhinedd y Saesson in BL Cotton
Cleopatra B.v and NLW 7006D follow each other closely, as do the
versions of Ystorya Dared in these two manuscripts. A number of
these related manuscripts also contain the same scribal hands; for
example, the same hand is found in both Peniarth 19 and the Red
Book of Hergest, suggesting the shared production of manuscripts
using common source texts. The two groups clearly represent related
traditions of the historical chronicles, deliberately copied together as
episodes of the same national history.
Conclusion
The function of Ystorya Dared as a prequel to Geoffrey’s Historia had
a particular significance in the decades after 1282. Not only was it part
of a vigorous practice of vernacular translation, but this practice itself
was part of a modernising trend in Welsh historiography, designed to
confirm to a new class of gentry emerging after the bloodshed of 1282
that their families were the successors to generations of aristocratic
Welsh princes and rulers who could trace their lineages back to Troy.
While Geoffrey’s Historia had opened with a brief account of the
Trojan war and the events which brought Brutus to the island of
Britain, Ystorya Dared provided a seemingly authentic history of the
heroic ancestors of the British people, creating a seamless history of
Britishness which centuries of Norman and English rule could not
undermine.
The manuscript tradition of Ystorya Dared shows that this text
was regarded as part of the native tradition of Welsh historiography. It
invariably appears in fourteenth- and fifteenth-century manuscripts as
an accompaniment to the major Welsh historical chronicles – Brut y
Tywysogyon and Brenhinedd y Saesson – which are based on lost
Latin originals, probably compiled at Strata Florida. Ystorya Dared
itself was probably first compiled at Valle Crucis early in the four-
teenth century, pre-dating the three major Middle English versions of
the Troy story and roughly contemporary with another Middle English
version, Seege or Batayle of Troy, which was written in or very close
to Wales and is, like Ystorya Dared, derived from a Latin text of
Dares Phrygius. Manuscripts of the Dares text were clearly available
in monastic libraries in Wales and we know that one such text was
held at the Cistercian abbey of Whitland in south-west Wales (Car-
marthenshire), now Exeter Cathedral Library MS 3514 (Smith 2008:
84-85).
The work of copying, translation and adaptation which resulted
in the Welsh historical texts as we now have them, including Ystorya
Dared, is witness to a vigorous industry of cultural production based
in Welsh Cistercian houses. Directed towards influential patrons
among the Welsh gentry, the new vernacular tradition of history was
based on a conservative privileging of classical and late-antique Latin
sources. Some of the key manuscripts containing Ystorya Dared, in-
cluding the Red Book of Hergest, also contain versions of Brut y
Tywysogyon which end in the year 1282 as a memorial to the fall of
Gwynedd as the last independent kingdom of Wales. Ystorya Dared
was clearly regarded as an important element in the teleological
narrative of the rise and fall of the British nation, from its Trojan
origins through to the cataclysmic loss of sovereignty in 1282. More-
over, using the model of history based ultimately on the Old and New
Testaments of the Bible, in which events in the former prefigure those
in the latter, Welsh writers may have seen the story of the destruction
and fall of Troy as a powerful prefiguring of the destruction and fall of
the house of Gwynedd.
Ystorya Dared, then, is more than a straightforward translation
from a Latin original. Like the other native Welsh historical compi-
148 Helen Fulton
lations, it is an adaptation which turns a Latin account of history into a

text which Welsh readers would recognise as part of their own cultural
tradition. The great popularity of Ystorya Dared among antiquarians
of the sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth centuries in Wales, as
witnessed by the number of manuscripts transcribed in this period,
suggests that its particular version of early British history retained a
mythical power among Welsh readers until the modern period. By
basing their history of Troy on the classical Latin version made by
Dares Phrygius, rather than on the medieval version made by Guido
delle Colonne, the earliest Welsh adaptors of Ystorya Dared created a
foundation myth of Wales which began even before the coming of the
Romans. The writing of Ystorya Dared, along with the other native
histories, was precipitated by trauma, the trauma of the loss of Welsh
sovereignty in 1282, whose impact could be expiated in part by the
creation of a new vernacular history which attempted to repair the
rupture with a seamless cultural memory.
Notes
1
Two of the native chronicles have been published as a series of volumes edited and
translated by Thomas Jones: Brut y Tywysogyon. Peniarth MS 20 (1941), Brut y
Tywysogyon, or The Chronicle of the Princes (1955), and Brenhinedd y Saesson, or
The Kings of the Saxons (1971). See also John Jay Parry, Brut y Brenhinedd: Cotton
Cleopatra Version (1937), and Brynley F. Roberts, Brut y Brenhinedd: Llanstephan
MS I Version (1984). For scholarly discussion of the chronicles, see Jones (1968),
Roberts (1991), and Smith (2008).
2
J. Beverley Smith has undertaken a detailed consideration of the lost Latin originals
of both these Welsh chronicles, concluding that Brenhinedd y Saesson was probably
produced at the Cistercian abbey at Valle Crucis, using Latin sources that were
produced at Strata Florida; see Smith (2008: 84), and also Jones (1955: xii). Daniel
Huws also suggests that Brut y Tywysogyon was ‘in origin a Strata Florida text’
(2000: 53). J. E. Lloyd presented a detailed comparison of the Welsh chronicles to
support his argument that Brut y Tywysogyon and Brenhinedd y Saesson are based on
the same Latin source (1928: 377-79). Jones is more cautious, suggesting that
Brenhinedd y Saesson was based on ‘a variant version of the Latin original of the Brut
[y Tywysogyon] down to 1197’ (1971: xl).
3
Jones suggests that both projects may have been undertaken in response to the final
exhortations of Geoffrey of Monmouth in the colophon to his Historia (1971: xii).
4
On the provenance of the Latin text of Dares Phrygius, and an earlier version
attributed to Dictys of Crete (fourth century AD), see Young (1948: 48-57). The Latin
text of Dares was edited by Ferdinand Meister, De excidio Troiae historia Daretis
Phrygii (1873/1991); see also Lumiansky (1967: 114-15).
5
Mary Meek discusses the medieval acceptance of Guido’s text in the introduction to
her translation of it (Meek 1974: xiv-xvi). The Latin text is edited by Nathaniel E.
Griffin (1936).
6
On the dissemination of Guido’s text in Middle English literature, see Benson
(1980).
7
Evans (1890: xix-xx). A more detailed study has been done by B. G. Owens in an
unpublished MA dissertation in which he identified six distinct versions of Ystorya
Dared, but once the post-1500 manuscripts are removed, the two main variants
noticed by Evans still remain (Owens 1951).
8
On the Red Book of Hergest and its significance, see Huws (2000: 79-83). The
Welsh word brut, derived from the name Brutus, can signify both ‘history [of
Britain]’ and ‘prophecy [of restored British rule]’.
9
Thomas Jones believed that the ending of the Welsh chronicle in 1282 indicated that
its Latin source also ended at this date (1941: xxxviii-xli).
10
Smith (2008: 81-82). On the contents of BL Cotton Cleopatra B.v, see Jones (1971:
xvi-xviii).
11
Owens (1951: clxxxix-cxcvi). J. E. Lloyd says: ‘The texts of the Book of
Basingwerk seem to be based on those of Cleopatra B.v’ (1928: 391).
12
Huws (2000: 190, n.20). See also the digitised version of the manuscript on the
National Library of Wales website: http://www.llgc.org.uk/index.php?id=
blackbookofbasingwerknlwms [accessed 21 June 2010].
13
Huws confirms that Peniarth 46 (containing Brut y Brenhinedd) and Peniarth 47
(containing Ystorya Dared) were probably a single manuscript originally (2000: 239,
n.16).
Bibliography
Primary sources
Armes Prydein: The Prophecy of Britain. Ed. I. Williams. Trans. R. Bromwich.
Mediaeval and Modern Welsh Series 6. Dublin: Dublin Institute for Advanced
Studies, 1972.
Brenhinedd y Saesson, or The Kings of the Saxons. Ed. Thomas Jones. History and
Law Series 25. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1971.
Brut y Brenhinedd: Cotton Cleopatra Version. Ed. and trans. John Jay Parry.
Medieval Academy of America Publication 27. Cambridge, MA: Medieval
Academy of America, 1937.
Brut y Brenhinedd: Llanstephan MS 1 Version, Selections. Ed. Brynley F. Roberts.
Mediaeval and Modern Welsh Series 5. Dublin: Dublin Institute for Advanced
Studies, 1984.
Brut y Tywysogyon, or The Chronicle of the Princes. Red Book of Hergest Version.
Ed. Thomas Jones. History and Law Series 16. Cardiff: University of Wales
Press, 1955. Referred to as ‘BT Hergest’.
Brut y Tywysogyon. Peniarth MS 20. Ed. Thomas Jones. History and Law Series 6.
Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1941. Referred to as ‘BT Peniarth’.
De excidio Troiae historia. Ed. Ferdinand Meister. Leipzig: Teubner, 1873; facsimile
reprint, 1991.
Guido delle Colonne. Historia Destructionis Troiae. Ed. Nathaniel E. Griffin. Cam-
bridge, MA: Medieval Academy of America, 1936.
–––. Historia Destructionis Troiae. Trans. Mary E. Meek. Bloomington, IN: Indiana
150 Helen Fulton
The Seege or Batayle of Troye. Ed. Mary E. Barnicle. Original Series 172. London:
Early English Text Society, 1927.
The Text of the Bruts from the Red Book of Hergest. Ed. J. Rhys and J. Gwenogvryn
Evans. Oxford: J. G. Evans, 1890.
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Colonne’s ‘Historia Destructionis Troiae’ in Medieval England. Woodbridge:
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Evans, J. G. (1890). See The Text of the Bruts from the Red Book of Hergest.
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Honourable Society of Cymmrodorion 7: 5-18.
Huws, D. (2000). Medieval Welsh Manuscripts. Aberystwyth: University of Wales
Press and National Library of Wales.
Jones, T. (1941). See Brut y Tywysogyon. Peniarth MS 20.
––– (1955). See Brut y Tywysogyon, or The Chronicle of the Princes.
––– (1968). ‘Historical Writing in Medieval Welsh.’ In Proceedings of the Third
International Congress of Celtic Studies, Edinburgh, 23-29 July 1967. Ed. W.
F. H. Nicolaisen. Edinburgh: University of Edinburgh School of Scottish
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––– (1971). See Brenhinedd y Saesson, or The Kings of the Saxons.
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369-91.
Lumiansky, R.M. (1967). ‘Legends of Troy.’ In A Manual of the Writings in Middle
English 1050-1500. I. Romances. Gen. ed. J. Burke Severs. New Haven, CT :
The Connecticut Academy of Arts and Sciences. Pp. 114-18.
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Editing in Medieval Ireland.’ Studia Hibernica 31: 71-85.
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Meyer, R. T. (1980). ‘The Middle-Irish Version of the Story of Troy.’ Études
Celtiques 17: 205-18.
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Unpublished MA-Thesis. University of Wales, Aberystwyth.
Roberts, B. F. (1976). ‘Historical Writing.’ In A Guide to Welsh Literature. Vol. 1.
Ed. A. O. H. Jarman and G. R. Hughes. Swansea: Chr. Davies. Pp. 244-47.
––– (1991). ‘Geoffrey of Monmouth, Historia Regum Britanniae and Brut y
Brenhinedd.’ In The Arthur of the Welsh: The Arthurian Legend in Medieval
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Smith, J. B. (2008). ‘Historical Writing in Medieval Wales: The Composition of
Brenhinedd y Saesson.’ Studia Celtica 42: 55-86.
Young, Arthur M. (1948). Troy and Her Legend. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh
Press.
JOAN OF ARC AND THE ENGLISH CHRONICLERS:
MONSTROUS PRESENCE AND PROBLEMATIC ABSENCE IN
THE CHRONICLE OF LONDON, THE CHRONICLE OF WILLIAM OF
WORCESTER, AND AN ENGLISH CHRONICLE 1377-1461
Meredith Clermont-Ferrand
Abstract
There are two notable English chronicles with entries about Joan of
Arc that cover the years 1429-1431: The Chronicle of London and
The Chronicle of William of Worcester. The semantic and rhetorical
choices in The Chronicle of London and The Chronicle of William
of Worcester portray Joan of Arc as a figure who shifts dexterously
between the roles of illegitimate military captain, gender trans-
gressor, and sorceress. In occupying all three malefactive roles, her
character provides a structural and rhetorical backdrop against
which the child-king Henry VI is portrayed as a sovereign of great
power and agency. In addition, Joan of Arc’s absence from An
English Chronicle 1377-1461 confounds our expectations and tells
modern readers that there were some fifteenth-century English
historians that, when planning their chronicle entries for the years
1429-1431, thought she was unworthy of note.
Accustomed as the modern reader is to the large corpus of contem-

porary writing devoted to Joan of Arc, it may come as a surprise that
this charismatic, influential, young mystic appears in only a few fif-
teenth-century English chronicles for the years 1429-1431. The two
most notable are The Chronicle of London (BL Cotton Julius B.ii and
BL Cotton Cleopatra C.iv) and The Chronicle of William of Worcester
also known as the Annales rerum Anglicarum (BL Royal 13.C.i). It
may not, however, surprise the modern reader that when The
Chronicle of London and William of Worcester wrote about the Maid
of Orléans, they and their interpretive communities understood her
through a variety of highly charged nouns and adjectives that describe
her violation of British hegemony in the occupied territories of
152 Meredith Clermont-Ferrand
France. These lexical choices allow the author(s) of The Chronicle of

London and William of Worcester to use the rhetorical strategy of
cause and effect that underscores Henry VI’s role as indomitable king
in total control of the colonizing effort in France.
Along with the lexemic and rhetorical structure in chronicles
where Joan of Arc is mentioned, one can also study the lacunae in
other fifteenth century chronicles, such as An English Chronicle 1377-
1461 (hereafter called An English Chronicle for brevity’s sake), where
the Maid is not mentioned. The questions raised by the lacuna in this
chronicle are: what would cause a chronicler to ignore the profound
change in English military fortunes that took place in France during
the years 1429-1431? What domestic circumstances superseded the
impact Joan of Arc had on the British state for these years? What
might the silence in An English Chronicle tells us about how some
English historians understood Joan of Arc’s immediate impact on
English power in occupied France? To answer the questions above,
and before turning to our specific chronicles for the years 1429-1431,
a brief biography of Joan of Arc will provide a historical context in
which to better understand her life and career.
Joan of Arc’s Career 1429-1431

In the winter of 1429, Joan of Arc left her home in Domrémy, in the
province of Lorraine, and travelled to a neighbouring village of
Valcouleurs. Once she arrived, she told the garrison commander there,
Robert de Baudricourt, that the mystical voices of St Michael, St
Margaret and St Catherine had commanded her to leave Domrémy and
travel into France to relieve the siege at Orléans. De Baudricourt, a
war-hardened soldier, sent her home to her parents, with instructions
for them to beat obedience into her.
Undeterred, Joan left Domrémy again and came back to Valcou-
leurs. On this second trip, she chastised de Baudricourt for not believ-
ing in her divine mission. While he had refused to help, she scolded,
French forces had suffered a devastating blow by the British.1 While
the Battle of the Herrings was hardly a military disaster in the scope of
Crécy and Agincourt, it convinced de Baudricourt to help Joan of Arc
travel through the occupied territories to the Dauphin’s court at
Chinon.
Inspired by her saintly voices and dressed as a man, Joan was es-
corted by some of de Baudricourt’s soldiers to the dauphin (known by
Joan of Arc and the English Chroniclers 153
Armagnac loyalists as Charles VII) at Chinon in February 1429. The

uncrowned King Charles VII was seeking to recover the northern part
of the Kingdom from the English and the Burgundians who recogniz-
ed Henry VI of England as king. After years of defeat at British hands,
Charles VII’s soldiers were disillusioned and had lost the morale to
take the fight to the English.
Whether by divine revelation or tactical brilliance, Joan knew
that Orléans was the key to liberating the entire Loire Valley from
British occupation. Once this was done, she believed the Armagnacs
would be able to drive the British back to Paris and lead the Dauphin
to be crowned at Reims cathedral. She was so fervent that she
convinced the court to grant her request. Charles VII, persuaded by
her charisma, ennobled her and armed her at his own expense.
On 7-8 May, the Armagnac forces, led by Joan of Arc, suc-
cessfully raised the siege and entered Orléans to great celebrating of
the townspeople. In the following months a number of towns along the
Loire fell to her and the advancing loyalist troops, Jargeau, Meung-
sur-Loire, Beaugency and Patay. These victories cleared a roadway for
Charles VII to travel to Reims Cathedral and be crowned king.
Joan of Arc’s successful Loire Valley campaign, however, was
followed by a failed assault on Paris. In an effort to consolidate his
gains in the Loire Valley, Charles VII agreed to a temporary truce
with the English. On 18 May, 1430, in a skirmish that violated the
terms of the treaty, Joan was captured by the Burgundians at Com-
piègne and handed over to the British authorities for trial.
Joan of Arc’s heresy trial began in January 1431 and lasted until
May. While Joan acted with the support of Charles VII and the coop-
eration of many French commanders, the British blamed their losses
squarely on her. The Duke of Bedford, regent for the young Henry VI,
summed it up in a letter to the young English King. ‘These blows,’ he
told Henry VI, ‘were caused in great part by that limb of the field
called Pucelle or the Maid, who used false enchantments and sorcery’
(Taylor 2006: 239). Joan of Arc was put to death by the British on
8 May, 1431.
The Chronicle of London (British Library, Cotton Julius B.ii and

Cotton Cleopatra C.iv)
Now that we have an overview of Joan of Arc’s biography for the
years relevant to our chronicles, we can turn to our examination of
silence, absence and demonization towards the Maid of Orléans. Both
copies of The Chronicle of London address the questions listed above:
How did English chroniclers understand Joan of Arc’s role in the
events of 1429-1431? How did they want to disseminate that under-
standing for a domestic audience? The Chronicle of London is a
fascinating document. From the beginning of the fifteenth century,
aldermen and citizens of London had shown their interest in civic and
national history by compiling a chronicle in English that focused on
the major political events of the time and how they affected the city of
London. The two extant manuscripts of The Chronicle of London in
the British Library’s Cotton collection are Julius B.ii and Cleopatra
C.iv.2 Since there is intensity and electricity in silence, we first note
that there is no mention made of Joan’s military victories or the
crowning of Charles VII at Reims through her intercession in The
Chronicle of London’s entry of 1429. For the British, she does not
exist until she is captured and under their control in May, 1430. The
entry in BL Cotton Julius B.ii for the year 1430 reads:
This same year upon seynt lenardys day kyng Herry the vite, not ffully
viij yere olde, whas crownyd at Westmynster; att whos coronacion were
i-made xxxv knightis; and on seynt Georgis day next folowying afore
none he passid over the see to Caleys;3 and the xxiij day of May, aftyr
noon ayenst nyght, before the toune of Companyng, ther was a woman
takyn armed in the feld, with many other capteyns, the wich whas
called PUCELL DE DIEU, a ffalse witche, for thorow her pover the
dolphyn and alle owre adversaris trusted hooly to have comqueryd ayen
all ffraunce, and never to have the worsee in place that sche hadde ben
inne, for they helden here amongest hem as for a profetes ande a worthi
goddesse. (fols. 87v-88r)
In the first sentence of his entry, the chronicler first establishes that
the young King Henry VI was linked to his nation through the religi-
ous and civic ceremony of the coronation. Ernst Kantorowicz, in his
political study The King’s Two Bodies, quotes from the early twelfth-
century Norman Anonymous which describes the dual nature of the
coronation ceremony and details how the act of crowning a king made
him both a religious and secular authority figure. According to the

Norman Anonymous
the [Holy] Spirit ‘leaped’ into the terrestrial king at the moment of his
consecration to make him ‘another man’ (alius vir) and transfigure him
within Time, the self-same Spirit was from Eternity one with the King
of Glory to remain one with him in all Eternity. In other words, the king
becomes ‘deified’ for a brief span by virtue of grace …. (Kantorowicz
1957: 47)4
Not only does The Chronicle of London draw attention to Henry VI as

a religious figure by mentioning he was ‘crownyd at Westmynster’, in
another significant semantic choice the chronicler mentions Hen-
ry VI’s age, ‘not ffully viij yere olde’. In citing Henry VI’s youth, the
chronicler makes the king’s coronation seem the soaring achievement
of a precocious child chosen by God to lead the state.
Next we turn to the chronicler’s lexical choice in emphasizing
the day of the coronation as ‘seynt lenardys day’ rather than the
calendar date of the year. This particularization is significant because
of Saint Leonard’s place of origin (near Orléans), and his relationship
with the French crown. Saint Leonard was a fifth-century Gallic saint,
so in the first sentence of The Chonicle of London, he functions as a
foil to what the historian later describes as the demonically inspired
French Joan. Saint Leonard is reputed to hail from the castle of
Vendôme in the region of Orléans, the site of the Maid’s greatest
military victory. Hagiographers of Saint Leonard hold he was part of
the court of the pagan King Clovis I. Once, when the kingdom was in
danger of being overrun, Clovis’ Queen suggested to Leonard that he
invoke the help of God to repel an invading army. Saint Leonard did
as the queen asked; the tide of battle turned, and Clovis was
victorious. Saint Remigius, bishop of Rheims, used the miracle of
Saint Leonard’s intercession to convert King Clovis and a thousand
followers to Christianity (Farmer 2003: 320). The legend of Saint
Leonard makes clear the saint’s support for the legitimate French king
and adds another layer of textual commentary.
By emphasizing the saint’s day of the coronation rather than the
calendar day of the year, The Chronicle of London implies that, with
the benediction of the French Saint Leonard, Henry VI sails to France
to undo the military advances Joan of Arc has made in Saint Leo-
nard’s own home region – Orléans. The choice to mention Henry VI’s
departure from England as ‘seynt Georgis day’ is also determinative.

While Saint George is, of course, the patron saint of England, the saint
became significant for his role in helping Henry V, Henry VI’s father,
prosecute the Hundred Years War. In 1415, at the battle of Agincourt,
Henry V successfully invoked Saint George’s help to defeat the
French. Later that year, with Henry V’s encouragement, Archbishop
of Canterbury Henry Chichele raised Saint George’s feast to that of a
principal feast of the liturgical year (Farmer 2003: 214). The
Chronicle of London through his lexical choices, depicts a pious,
venerative Henry VI orchestrating his political and religious functions
as king in cooperation with Saint Leonard and Saint George.
While Henry VI remains firmly linked to the traditional saint’s
calendar and orchestrates his movement around the kingdom with an
eye to what saints will benefit him most in his pursuance of the war
with France, The Chronicle of London indicates that, in contrast,
Charles VII surrenders what little of the remaining kingdom of France
in his control to a tool of the devil. Indeed, The Chronicle of London
suggests that the entire realm of France, in its adoration of Joan of Arc
and belief in her prophecies, has slid to paganism: ‘ffor they helden
hire amongest hem ffor a prophetesse and a worthy goddesse’ (Julius
B.ii, fol. 88r).5
When describing Joan of Arc herself, The Chronicle of London
uses a specific set of religious and military terms designed to portray
the Maid as a complex nexus of illegitimate field commander, imper-
missible political advisor, and witch. We will begin, as the chronicler
does, with the first – her role as factitious field commander. When the
chronicler calls her ‘a woman takyn armed in the feld, with many
other capteyns’, (Julius B.ii, fol. 88r). Here he paradoxically recog-
nizes her as a female military leader of some determination who is on
par with other French commanders. She does not, however, fit into the
category of military captain comfortably. Her sex, family lineage, and
youth situate her too firmly in alterity to possess the identité of a
fifteenth-century military leader.
Between 1429 and 1431, historians commenting on the turn of
events inspired by the Maid devoted special attention to the way Joan
of Arc transgressed expected gender roles. Even the French chron-
iclers acknowledged the incongruity and devoted a fair amount of ink
trying to explain the contradiction of a virgo puellares, a virgin girl,
who fights like a man. A good example of a French chronicler’s effort
to explicate the fifteenth-century irreconcilability of a female field

commander comes from the chronicle of Jean Dupuy, the Collec-
tarium Historiarum. In 1429, in support of Joan of Arc, Dupuy wrote
the following Latin verses about Joan of Arc as virgo puellares in an
attempt to try to clarify the paradox of female military commander:
Virgo puellares artus induta virili
Veste, Die monitu, properat relevare jacentem
Liliferum regemque; suos delere nefandos
Hostes, præcipue qui nunc sunt Aurelianis,
Urbe sub, ac illam deterrent obsidione.
Et si tanta viris mens est se jungere bello,
Arma sequinque sua, quæ nunc parat alma Puella,
Credit et fallaces Anglos succumbere morti,
Marte puellari Gallis sternentibus illos,
Et tunc finis erit pugnæ, tunc foedera prisca,
Tunc amor et pietas et cætera jura redibunt;
Certabunt de pace viri, cunctique favebunt
Sponte sua regi, qui rex librabit et ipsis
Cunctis justitiam, quos pulchra pace fovebit;
Et modo nullus erit Anglorum pardiger hostis
Qui se Francorum præsumat dicere regem.
(Quicherat 1965: 305)
(The virgin, her maidenly limbs clothed in male attire, at God’s

prompting, hurries to raise up the fallen lily-bearer and the king, and to
destroy the abominable enemies, especially those who are now at
Orléans, outside the city, and beset it with a siege. And if men have a
mind to commit themselves to war, and to follow her arms, which the
kindly Pucelle now prepares, she believes that the deceitful English will
also succumb to death, when the French overthrow them with maidenly
war and then there will be an end to fighting. Then the former treaties,
then love and piety and the other laws will return; men will compete for
peace, and all will favour their king of their own free will; and this king
will also deal justice equably to all of them, whom he will cherish in a
beautiful peace. And now there will be no leopard bearing enemy from
the English, who presumes to call himself king of the French. (Taylor
2006: 77-78)
While the poem explains what Joan of Arc accomplishes as

military leader of the French forces, Dupuy felt he still needed to
reduce the stigma of her cross-dressing in his text. In the prose portion
of Dupuy’s chronicle, where he purports to explain why Joan of Arc
dresses as a man, the chronicler has left nine blank lines, unable to
finish the task he set out for himself (Taylor 2006: 89). What this
lacuna indicates is that even Dupuy, a committed supporter of the
Maid, was unable to disentangle the knotty ideas embodied in the
virgo puellares to himself, his readers, or history.
In addition to Joan of Arc’s gender-defying role in the war effort,
The Chronicle of London, as a voice of the English colonial effort in
France, describes her as an unsanctionable military commander, a
leader who uses her military power and influence for destructive
purposes rather than for the benefit of the French counter-insurgency
efforts. ‘[T]horow her pover the dolphyn and alle owre adversaris
trusted hooly to have conqueryd ayen all ffraunce, and never to have
the worsee in place that sche hadde ben inne’ (Julius B.ii, fol. 88r).
With this statement, the chronicler works to exert a form of textual
supremacy over those the dominant political superstructure wishes to
render subordinate, in this case, Joan of Arc. The chronicler uses his
lexical choices to construct Joan of Arc’s character as a military leader
who has made everything ‘worsee’ and did not try to rejuvenate or
restore France after she had ‘conqueryd’ territory in her own country.
A final nuance to The Chronicle of London’s semantic portrait of
Joan of Arc is perhaps the most dramatic. The author of The Chronicle
of London understood and portrayed her as a ‘ffalse witche’ and
‘worthi goddesse’ (Julius B.ii, fol. 88r). Joan of Arc’s military career,
capture and trial took place at a pivotal moment in the development of
clerical and secular anxieties about witchcraft and sorcery in the
fifteenth century. There was a rising fear among theologians that
witches were deliberately invoking and worshipping supernatural,
diabolical powers. Witches, as The Chronicle of London categorizes
Joan, were guilty of using sorcery and magic to achieve their goals
(Taylor 2006: 37). Joan of Arc’s military power, as The Chronicle of
London states, came from necromancy.
Equally noteworthy is the chronicler’s choice of the phrase
‘worthi goddesse’. Fifteenth-century witch persecutions also held that
witches were involved in a wide conspiracy that involved the ador-
ation and worship of demons and even a complete rejection of the
structures of the church. Moreover, witches were suspected and often
accused of encouraging people to worship and idolize them, to hold
them up, in the words of The Chronicle of London as a ‘worthi
goddesse’ (Taylor 2006: 37). The Chronicle of London falls in line
with this early fifteenth-century paradigm of witch accusations in his

description of Joan of Arc. This ‘fals wicche’ had acquired so much
influence she controlled both the ‘dolphin’, Charles VII, and en-
couraged ‘all owre adversaries’ to worship her as ‘profetes ande a
worthi goddesse’. Therefore, we can see that The Chronicle of London
depicts his Joan of Arc as inappropriate military commander, anarchy-
inspiring political advisor, witch, and a woman who encouraged an
entire nation to false idolatry.
The series of lexical choices the chronicler makes about Joan of
Arc supports an unambiguous rhetorical strategy. The juxtaposition of
characterizations of Henry VI as God-chosen king working in co-
operation with the saints and Joan of Arc as a female military leader,
and a witch who leads a nation to damnation by offering herself up for
worship, establishes a direct cause and effect sequence: Henry VI is
crowned king, crosses the Channel, and the gender-transgressing
military ‘capteyn’ and ‘fals wicche’ is taken prisoner. This rhetorical
strategy of cause and effect perpetuates the colonial hegemony of
Henry VI as good king, the hero who made both the British homeland
and the occupied territories in France safe for Christian civilization.
Before moving on to The Chronicle of William of Worcester and
An English Chronicle, it would be fruitful to address a small bit of
marginalia in one of the manuscripts of The Chronicle of London, BL
Cotton Cleopatra C.iv. Cleopatra C.iv differs in spelling and spacing
from its sibling manuscript BL Cotton Julius B.ii. In both manuscripts,
the tone of the main narrative in The Chronicle of London is of com-
fortable dominance of the hegemonic power. Such a tone facilitates
the concurrent contempt the colonial centre holds for the colonized
marginal in the discourse. However, the dominant discourse of The
Chronicle of London is only one voice. In Cleopatra C.iv’s marginalia,
placed alongside the scribe’s neat, linear hand, is a larger, slanted,
Latin pronouncement in another hand: magnus novus, ‘big news’.
For a bit of marginalia to say something counter to the primary
discourse is not unusual in the Middle Ages. For a modern reader,
marginalia gives us a window into ‘user interface’. It can help us
address the question: did a reader of The Chronicle of London
understand and react to the information contained therein? We can
hypothesize that while the official discourse of Cleopatra C.iv
describes Joan of Arc in a connotative lexical montage and discusses
her as managed with ease by the powerful king. The unknown glos-
sator makes it clear that there was a concurrent portrait of Joan of Arc
that articulated a further nuance to the text. The threat Joan of Arc
posed, when neutralized, was indeed big news.
The Chronicle of William of Worcester (BL Royal 13 C.i)

The only extant private English chronicle to mention Joan of Arc is
The Chronicle of William of Worcester, sometimes called Annales
rerum Anglicarum. What little biographical information we have of
Worcester are the dates of his life, c.1415-c.1482, and the fact that he
was a beneficiary of the sometimes troublesome knight Sir John
Fastolf. We may expect more from this man of letters than from
hurried bureaucrats such as The Chronicle of London, recording little
more than bullet points of history. After all, Worcester was considered
a distinguished writer of the fifteenth century. His books about the
Wars of the Roses were of great importance in his time. However, if
we are looking for a fully fleshed historical chronicle about Joan of
Arc, we are disappointed. Jules Etienne Quicherat, in his five volume
masterwork on Joan of Arc, Procès de condamnation et de réhabili-
tation de Jeanne d’Arc, describes the relevant passage in Worcester’s
chronicle simply as ‘cinque lignes rapportées’ (1965: 475):
MCCCCXXX—Hoc anno, die sancti Georgii martyris, rex Henricus
VItus exiit ab Anglia usque Caleys, cum magno apparatu, ad coronam
accipiendam in Francia. Et hoc anno, XXIII die maii, quaedam mulier,
vocata Pucelle de Dieu, capta est ab Anglis ad villam de Compayne.
(Quicherat 1965: 475)
(1430—This year, on the day of Saint George the Martyr, King Henry
VI left England from Calais, with great force, to his anticipated
coronation in France. And this year, on the twenty-third day of May, a
certain woman, called The Maid of God, was captured by the English at
the village of Compèigne. (Translation mine)
Worcester, in the Annales rerum Anglicarum, like The Chronicle of

London, gives us no record of Joan of Arc’s military successes for the
year 1429. What may have been Worcester’s reason for this? Likely
the same reason that The Chronicle of London neglects any reference
to her. Joan merits mention, however small, once she is in British
hands. In his entry for 1430, Worcester, like The Chronicle of London,
also stresses Henry VI coordinating the national interest and the
liturgical calendar when he leaves England for France on Saint
George’s day. Joan’s capture is mentioned in the same breath as King

Henry VI’s coronation in France.
There are some differences between the two chronicles. Worces-
ter’s semiotic choices when describing Joan of Arc are different from
those of The Chronicle of London text. Worcester does not draw from
the highly charged, connotative terminology that The Chronicle of
London considers ineluctable. Worcester simply reports what others
called her: ‘vocata “Pucelle de Dieu”’. Worcester does, however,
pursue The Chronicle of London’s rhetorical strategy of cause and
effect in linking Henry VI’s arrival in France with Joan’s capture. In
addition, the tone of Worcester’s is similar to that of The Chronicle of
London, comfortable dominance. King Henry VI, the precocious
child-king, with entire power of the British colonial ‘magno apparatu’
at his disposal, crosses the Channel. In doing so, he brings that
military force to bear on the Maid, resulting in her capture. To both
Worcester and The Chronicle of London, King Henry himself, his
martial strength and spiritual authority, were the cause of Joan’s
arrest. This allows the Worcester Chronicle to function as the voice of
the colonial power, explaining how the British jurisdiction restabilized
itself in the occupied parts of France for the year 1430.
An English Chronicle 1377-1461

Not every English chronicle for the years 1429-1431 recorded Joan of
Arc’s military exploits and Henry VI’s subsequent re-assertion of
English power in France. While modern readers think of Joan of Arc
as a major historical figure, she was either suppressed or plainly
ignored in An English Chronicle 1377-1461. The text describes, as
The Chronicle of London does, Henry VI’s coronation and his passage
to France in 1430:
Anno viij––The viij yer of Kynge Henry, he wasse crovned ate
Westmynstre on þe Sonday in Saint Leonard.
Anno Xmo––And sone after he wente into Fraunce, and was crovned at
Paris the x yere off his regne, the ix day of Decembre, thorgh speciell
supportacion and helpe of the seide cardinalle their beyng present, And
after camme the same yer in to Engelonde agayn. (Marx 2003: 59)
After reading this entry we are left to ask, what is the reason for
excising any mention of Joan of Arc from this British chronicle? Her
absence cannot be explained by an aversion on the part of this
fifteenth-century chronicler to include witchcraft offenses or insurrec-

tions against the king’s dominant power from his text. There are two
stories in An English Chronicle for the years 1430-1440 that
underscore the chronicler’s desire to record the power of the state to
eradicate civil and religious insurrection: the story of Jacke Sharpe
and that of Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester.
The story of the rebel Jacke Sharpe is recorded on fol. 182v, the
same folio as Henry VI’s coronation. In 1430, a certain William
Mandeville, a weaver and bailiff of Abingdon, hatched a conspiracy
among ‘certain lewd persons under pretence of religious-minded men’
at Abingdon against the Church and against the Government of the
Protector, Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester (Townsend 1910: 25).
Mandeville took the name of Jack Sharpe and, as the chronicle tells
us, Sharpe was
purposynge with his false feleshippe to haue destroyd the churche and
þe lordes spirituell and temperell. But he wasse take and dampned to
the dethe befor þe said duke [of Gloucester] atte Oxenforde, and
drawen and honged and quartered, and his hed and quarteres were sette
upon in diuers places off Engelonde. (Marx 2003: 59)
In addition to recording the details of the Sharpe Uprising, on

fol. 184r-185r, about a page away from where Joan’s story should
have been in the timeline of the chronicle, An English Chronicle
describes a later account (1440) of the witchcraft trial of Eleanor
Cobham:
And the Tuesday next foluynge, Dame Alinor Cobham, Duches of
Gloucestre, fledde be nyghte into the sanctuary of Westmynstre; whefor
sho wasse holden suspecte of certeyn poyntes of treson. … And this
tyme wasse take a woman called the Wiche off Ey, whose sorcery and
wichecrafte the seide Dame Alienore hadde longe tyme vsid, & be
suche medisons and drynkes the seide wiche made, the seide Alienore
enforsed the seide Duke of Gloucestre forto love her so moche that he
wedded her. Wherfor, and also for cause off relapse, the seide wyche
wasse brente in Smythefielde …. (Marx 62-63)
Including both Sharpe and Cobham’s story in An English

Chronicle indicates there was no squeamishness on the part of the
compiler of An English Chronicle when dealing with political insur-
rections or witchcraft offenses – even those large enough to affect the
health of the state. We therefore return to the question, why include
Sharpe and Cobham in this chronicle and ignore Joan of Arc? The
silence about her seems antithetical to the jingoistic aims of the
London and Worcester chronicles and defy what we may read as
popular opinion about the event memorialized in the magnus novus
marginalia of BL Cotton Cleopatra C.iv.
We would imagine that Joan of Arc’s role as leader of an effec-
tive counter-insurgency would guarantee her mention in all English
chronicles for 1430. Yet not every chronicle composer in the early
1430s shared this point of view. The compiler of An English
Chronicle for the years 1429-1431 either disregarded or was incurious
as to how his audience may have understood the psycho-social role of
this unusual historical and religious figure. The compiler of An
English Chronicle spent his efforts detailing events he considered
more important. Some facts he included were quite mundane: the
price of a bushel of wheat, the Thames freezing, an eclipse. Other
facts he recorded were of clear importance to the state: the death of
John, Duke of Bedford, the dispatch of the Duke of Gloucester to
Calais, and the major articles read out in Parliament. However strange
it may seem to a modern reader, for the compiler of An English
Chronicle, Joan of Arc was a figure of less historical interest than the
chilly winter or the price of bread. Her status as upstart military leader
was of less consequence to him than Jack Sharpe and he considered
her less of a religious threat to the king than Lady Eleanor Cobham.
Conclusions
After a detailed lexical and rhetorical examination of The Chronicle of
London, The Chronicle of William of Worcester, and a probing of the
conditions surrounding the lacuna in An English Chronicle 1377-
1461we can conclude a number of things about English chronicle
entries about Joan of Arc from the years 1429-1431. The Chronicle of
London uses connotative vocabulary and the rhetorical strategy of
cause and effect to describe the Maid as ersatz military commander
and powerful sorceress who attempts to lead the French nation
towards damnation. William of Worcester, in his Annales rerum
Anglicarum, uses a less-charged lexis base but a similar rhetorical
strategy of cause and effect to demonstrate an armipotent Henry VI
crossing the English Channel and, with the full power of the English
establishment, neutralizing any threat Joan of Arc posed to British
imperialistic efforts in France. In contrast, the author of An English
Chronicle felt she did not merit any mention at all. The domestic
circumstances, he believed, superseded the impact Joan of Arc had on
the British state. What the silence in An English Chronicle tells us is
that while some historians of the early 1430s believed Joan of Arc to
be a serious threat to the English and their occupation of France, and
used their texts as a display space to foreground the boy-king Henry
VI’s puissance, other English chroniclers, when planning their entries
for the years 1429-1431, thought she was not worth mentioning at all.
Notes
1
The Battle of the Herrings took place in March of 1429. A French force was
bringing supplies to some of the besieged towns in the Loire Valley. A small British
force overtook the convoy and stole the provisions for themselves. Since the victuals
consisted mainly of salted herrings, the battle was named after the prize – the Battle of
the Herrings.
2
The printed source available is Kingsford (1905).
3
This might prove hagiographically confusing. Saint Leonard’s Day is November 6
and Saint George’s Day is April 23.
4
‘Post unctionem vero insilivit in eum spiritus Domini, et propheta factus est, et
mutates est in virum alium. [Ad unctionem] insiliebat in eos spiritus Domini et virtus
deificans, per quam Christi figura fierent et imago et que mutaret eos in viros alios, ita
ut … in persona sua esset alius vir, et alius in spiritu …’ (Kantorowicz 1957:47).
5
The Chronicle of London author also draws a sharp distinction regarding both age
and rank. Eight year old Henry VI is ‘kyng Herry the vite’. Charles VII, who at the
time was 27, is termed derisively ‘the dolphin’, English slang for ‘dauphin’, the
uncrowned heir to the French throne. Using these terms with great calculation, the
London chronicler underscores the comparison: the little king, with the power of the
state and God behind him, created a number of knights, ‘att whos coronacion were i-
made xxxv knightis’, while the grown man/princeling is unable to control anything
happening in his realm. Then, fully in control of kingdom and nobles, Henry VI
crosses the channel and restores order to the occupied territories.
Bibliography
Primary Sources – Manuscripts
The Chronicle of London. In London, British Library Cotton Julius B.ii, fols. 4r-88v
The Chronicle of London. In London, British Library Cotton Cleopatra C.iv, fols. 22r-
61v
Primary Sources – Texts

Chronicles of London. Ed. Charles Lethbridge Kingsford (1905). Rpt. Otowa, NJ:
Sutton, 1977.
An English Chronicle 1377-1461. Ed. William Marx. Woodbridge: The Boydell

Press, 2003.
Procès de Condamnation et de Réhabilitation de Jeanne d’Arc, dite la Pucelle. 5 vols.
Ed. Jules Etienne Quicherat (1841-1849). Rpt. New York: Johnson Reprint,
1965 (vol. 4).
Joan of Arc: La Pucelle. Ed. and trans. Craig Taylor. Manchester: Manchester UP,
2006.
Townsend, James. A History of Abingdon. London, 1910. Rpt. Wakefield: S. R.
Publishers, 1970.
Secondary Literature
Farmer, David Hugh (2003). The Oxford Dictionary of Saints. Oxford: Oxford UP.
Kantorowicz, Ernst H. (1957) The King's Two Bodies: A Study in Mediaeval Political
Theology. Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP.
Kingsford, Charles Lethbridge, ed. (1905). See Chronicles of London.
Quicherat, Jules Etienne, ed. (1965). See Procès de Condamnation et de Réhabilita-
tion de Jeanne d’Arc.
Taylor, Craig, ed. and trans. (2006). See Joan of Arc: La Pucelle.
CHRONICLING THE FORTUNES OF KINGS:
JOHN HARDYNG’S USE OF WALTON’S BOETHIUS, CHAUCER’S TROILUS
AND CRISEYDE, AND LYDGATE’S ‘KING HENRY VI’S TRIUMPHAL
ENTRY INTO LONDON’
Sarah L. Peverley
Abstract
The first version of John Hardyng’s Middle English verse Chronicle
(c. 1457) draws on a fascinating array of sources to tell the story of
Britain’s past. While much of the narrative draws upon earlier
chronicles, such as Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Bri-
tanniae and Robert Mannyng’s Chronicle, the work is occasionally
indebted to more unusual sources beyond the chronicle genre, such
as the French Vulgate Cycle of Arthurian romance, hagiography,
and the poetry of Geoffrey Chaucer. This article addresses Har-
dyng’s use of Middle English poetry – namely Chaucer’s Troilus
and Criseyde, Walton’s translation of Boethius’ Consolation of Phi-
losophy, and Lydgate’s ‘King Henry VI’s Triumphal Entry into
London 21 February 1432’ – and considers how Hardyng’s poetic
borrowings from contemporary authors contribute to his idio-
syncratic presentation of the British past.
Written in England during the 1450s, the first version of the Middle
English verse Chronicle composed by John Hardyng draws on a
fascinating array of sources to chart the history of Britain from the
mythical founding of the realm to the murder of James I of Scotland in
1437.1 While much of the narrative is derived from earlier chronicles,
namely Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae, Robert
Mannyng’s Chronicle, and a Latin version of the Prose Brut, Har-
dyng’s work is occasionally indebted to more unusual sources beyond
the chronicle genre, such as the French Vulgate Cycle of Arthurian
romance, hagiography, and the poetry of Chaucer and Lydgate.
Of these minor sources, only Hardyng’s appropriation of material
from the Vulgate Cycle has been explored in any depth; little has been
said about his treatment of other non-chronicle sources.2 In 1988 A. S.
G. Edwards drew scholars’ attention to the fact that a number of lines
168 Sarah L. Peverley
in the first version were indebted to Geoffrey Chaucer’s Troilus and

Criseyde (c.1382–85). However, his brief note only reproduced the
passages in question without providing information about the context
of each borrowing or exploring how the passages might help us to
understand Hardyng’s decision to use Troilus. Edwards surmised that
Hardyng had merely turned to Chaucer’s text for ‘occasional rhe-
torical plums, to be plucked to provide moments of exclamation.’3 Yet
the recent detection of further borrowings from Troilus and the new,
hitherto unpublished, discovery of two additional Middle English
sources – John Walton’s translation of Boethius’ Consolation of
Philosophy (c.1410) and John Lydgate’s ‘King Henry VI’s Triumphal
Entry into London 21 February 1432’ (c.1432) – clearly indicates that
there is more to say about Hardyng’s use of Middle English poetry.4
This article therefore seeks to address Hardyng’s use of Chaucer,
Walton and Lydgate in the first version of the Chronicle and to
consider how his poetic borrowings from these authors contribute to
the Chronicle’s idiosyncratic presentation of the British past.5
The influence of Boethian narratives on Hardyng’s Chronicle:

Walton and Chaucer
Two of the aforementioned sources, Chaucer’s Troilus and Walton’s
translation of the Consolation of Philosophy, are indebted to Boethian
philosophy. Collectively, the texts highlight the transience of worldly
things, offer examinations of the vicissitudes of Fortune through
historical examples or, in the case of Troilus, through an historical
setting, and stress the coexistence of ‘fre wylle’ and God’s ‘pre-
science’ to underscore man’s responsibility for his own actions. Such
features appear to have interested Hardyng and inspired him to draw
upon the works to lend Boethian wisdom to his Chronicle and, as we
shall see, to show how Fortune, divine providence, and man’s free will
coexist and have affected the history of Britain. These themes also
saturate Hardyng’s autobiographical prologue and it is here that we
find the first of Hardyng’s Boethian borrowings.
In the prologue to the Chronicle, which is dedicated to Henry VI
and his family, Hardyng explains that he has compiled the text so that
the royal family will have a record and understanding of the king’s
sovereignty and inheritance, and the queen will be able to find ‘con-
solacioun’ in learning about Henry’s ‘domynacioun’.6 Yet in spite of
this, rather than moving straight onto the history of the kingdom, Har-
dyng details his own history. Describing how he was commissioned to
Chronicling the Fortunes of Kings 169
undertake a mission of espionage into Scotland by the king’s father,

Henry V, he confirms that he completed his task successfully, but in
so doing incurred great financial losses and a debilitating injury. Upon
his return, Henry V apparently promised Hardyng a substantial re-
ward, though the king died before it was officially given to him.
Following numerous petitions for remuneration, Hardyng claims that
Henry VI granted him Geddington Manor in Northamptonshire (fol.
4r; Prol.117), but that one of the king’s advisors overturned the
decision. Like Thomas Hoccleve in his autobiographical preface to
The Regiment of Princes (c.1410), Hardyng therefore adopts a
petitionary stance, casting himself as a Boethian figure that needs to
disclose a metaphorical sickness (i.e. his financial incapacity and lack
of reward) to a physician (i.e. the king) in order to relieve his
suffering:7
Who hath an hurte and wille it nought diskure,
And to his leche can nought his sore compley[ne],
In wo evermore, withouten any cure,
Alle helples forth he muste comporte his peyne.
And who his own erande forgatte to seyne,
As alle thise wise men say alway and wote,
Men calle a fool or elles an idyote.
Wherfore to yow, as prince moste excellent,

I me compleyne, as resoun techeth me
(fol. 3r; Prol.29-37)
Common in literature, and also found in both Walton’s trans-

lation of Boethius and Chaucer’s Troilus, the medical metaphor used
here to introduce Hardyng’s plight and underscore that only the king
is capable of curing him has its origins in The Consolation of Philo-
sophy, where Lady Philosophy advises the narrator to divulge his
sorrows to her.8 By employing it here, Hardyng adopts a role ana-
logous to the imprisoned Boethian narrator and implies that the king,
as Hardyng’s ‘leche’, should adopt a role comparable to Lady Philo-
sophy and cure the author’s sickness by releasing him from the
metaphorical prison of poverty.
Crucially, as I have shown elsewhere, several extant documents
surviving independently of the Chronicle reveal that Hardyng was not
as financially destitute as he claims and that he had already received a
reward from the king ten years before he began composing his history
(see Peverley 2004a and 2004b). While he did receive further re-
compense after presenting the work to Henry VI, it seems likely that
he cites his own feelings of disappointment in order to present himself
as a microcosm of society, for the autobiographical material and the
sickness metaphor used in the prologue are later used in the epilogue
to suggest that the entire kingdom is in need of a physician to restore it
to health. Both the prologue and the epilogue therefore frame the
history, providing a commentary on contemporary injustices to show
the king that
dispensing justice to individual subjects is … just as important as, and
indeed the first step towards, dispensing justice to the whole of Eng-
land. If the king … can recognise the injustice done to the chronicler, in
the form of his outstanding reward, he will be able to recognise, and
begin to resolve, the injustices rife in England, which Hardyng details
so pointedly throughout the Chronicle. (Peverley 2004b:156-57)
Hardyng employs the Boethian metaphor at the start of the text to

establish that the king is the centre of authority and power in England
– the only man who can heal the wounded realm – and that the
Chronicle can provide him with examples of how to restore unity and
prosperity to the ailing kingdom by showcasing the fortunes and deeds
of past kings.
The story of the initial founding of the realm, which follows in
the first of seven ‘books’, builds upon, and expands, the issues raised
in the prologue by drawing on further Boethian material from Walton
and Chaucer. Opening with a recycled version of the first line of Wal-
ton’s prologue, Hardyng begins his account of the wicked Grecian
princesses who founded Albion – the ancient name for Britain – by fo-
cusing on their ‘excellent’ father and their desire to live independently
of men:
Hardyng
The while that Troy was regnyng in his myghte
There was in Grece a kinge, right excellent,
That doughtirs had thretty, right faire and brighte,
Echone weddid to kinges of regyment …
Whiche felle in pride and hiegh elacioun,

Thinkynge to ben in no subjeccioun
Of hosbonde more, ne domynacioun,
But oonly by a foul conjeccioun
Thay caste so than by alle inspeccioun
To sla anone thaire husbondes sodenly,
Sovereynes to bene and regne alle severaly.

(fol. 5r; 1.1-4, 1.8-14)
Walton
The while þat Rome was reignyng in hir floures
And of þe worlde held all þe monarchie,
Sche was gouerned þenne be emperoures
And was renouned wondir nobelye
Till pride had set þaire hertes vpon hye.
Þenne gan thei for to vsen cruelte
And regne by rigour and by tyrannye
In sore oppressioun of þe comynalte.
For right as pouert causeth sobirnesse,

& febilnesse enforceth continence,
Right so prosperite and sekirnesse
Þe moder is of vice and necligence.
And pouer also causeþ insolence,
And often honour chaungeþ goode þewes;
Þere is none more parelouse pestilence
Þan hyhe estates gyffen vnto schrewes.
(Prologue, stanzas 1-2)
Though only the first line here is explicitly taken from Walton’s
text, the ideas underpinning the rest of the quotation from Walton are
replicated in Hardyng’s verse. As princesses, Albine and her sisters
are the equivalent of Walton’s ‘hyhe estates gyffen vnto schrewes’,
and just as pride prompts Walton’s Roman leaders to ‘vsen cruelte’ to
oppress the common people rather than protect them, so pride moti-
vates the Grecian sisters ‘foul conjeccioun’ to murder their husbands.
Hardyng’s decision to set Albine’s story alongside the flourishing of
Troy, emphasises the transience of worldly empires, for his audience
would know, as the Chronicle later shows, that Troy was destined to
fall and that Greece would play a significant role in its downfall. From
the start of the history we are therefore made aware that Fortune is in
continual flux, that pride facilitates great cruelty, and that those in
positions of power have a duty to act virtuously and uphold the law.
In comparison with how Hardyng later revises the narrative for
the second version of the Chronicle, the Grecian king in this text plays
an important role and much is made of his sovereign qualities.9 We
hear of him marrying his daughters to social equals, we see his
youngest daughter submitting to his authority and revealing the plot to
him out of respect for her ‘paternyte’ and duty to her husband, and we
witness the king granting mercy to her, dispensing justice, and in-
flicting the severe punishment of exile on his other daughters for their
transgression. To some extent the youngest daughter and the king
mirror the depictions of Hardyng and Henry VI in the prologue: the
daughter, like Hardyng, must ‘diskeur’ her predicament to the
sovereign (fol. 5r; 1.24), who in turn must resolve the problem. In this
way, the ‘happy ending’ that befalls the daughter after disclosing her
‘complaynte’ (fol. 6r; 1.115) might be said to parallel the reward anti-
cipated by Hardyng, who, like her, seeks justice and wishes to stand
‘in alkyn grace’ with the king (fol. 6r; 1.118). If Hardyng wished to
invite such a parallel, it is fitting that the actions of the Grecian
monarch correspond precisely with the actions Hardyng later pre-
scribes for Henry VI in the epilogue: to restore stability to the realm,
reward loyal subjects, administer justice, and chastise lawbreakers
regardless of their social rank (fols. 221v-22r; 7.1003-65). Like Wal-
ton’s prologue, the historical example provided by Albine’s story
offers a commentary on good leadership and supplies positive and
negative illustrations of free will being exercised through the youngest
daughter and her sisters.
As the narrative progresses, and the princesses are exiled in a
ship ‘withouten men to be thaire governoure’ (fol. 6v; 1.135),
Hardyng links their desire to live independently with the workings of
Fortune and Providence, for they wash up on the shores of the un-
inhabited wilderness where they can live alone and attribute their
discovery of the land to Fortune and ‘predesteny’:
Thus Fortune than folowed aftir thaire devise
As thay afore desired sove[ra]ynté,
The whiche thay had so thus at thaire avise
Thurgh Fortunes stroke and mutabilité,
That brought were thus from thaire priorité,
The sovereynté to have and governance
Of alle this londe withoute disobeyshance.
Bot Albyne than sayde to hire sistirs bright …
‘Fortune it gafe to us by desteny

Seynge afore oure cruelle aventure
At natife birthe sette oure predesteny
This londe to have whils we may leve and dure
To us and to alle oure hool engendrure …’

(fol. 7v; 1.211-18, 1.225-29)
Though this quotation follows Hardyng’s ultimate source for the

story, the fourteenth-century Anglo-Norman romance Des Grantz
Geantz, in having Albine claim that Fortune has brought the sisters to
the land, Hardyng enhances Fortune’s role by prefacing Albine’s com-
ments with a statement about Fortune following their desires through
its mutability. Far from being satisfied with their lot though, the
independence that the sisters obtain is not what they expect, and, in a
contradictory twist of fate, they find themselves desiring the sexual
company of men, so much so that their fertile imaginations conjure
spirits in ‘mannysshe fourme’ and they conceive hideous ‘geants’ (fol.
7v; 1.244, 1.251).
The incestuous behaviour of their progeny then generates twelve
thousand malicious giants to occupy the island, reiterating the idea
that humans engender the suffering of other humans through immoral
choices. Incest is as abhorrent to Hardyng as the sisters’ initial plan to
murder their husbands because it challenges the very fabric of a moral,
civilised society. So, in the absence of patriarchal authority in Albion,
God administers justice, punishing the sisters and their monstrous off-
spring by sending civil dissension amongst the giants until each
‘Distroed othyr by batayle and contencioun’ (fol. 8v; 1.298). Civil un-
rest, the very thing Hardyng later warns Henry VI to be wary of in
England, brings an end to the giants’ tyrannous reign, leaving only a
few alive for Brutus to overcome when he fulfils his destiny and
arrives in Albion. Before giving an account of Britain’s founding
father, Hardyng underscores the seriousness of the civil discord in
Albion and invites his audience to see a correlation between past and
present dissension by aligning the ‘kaves’ (fol. 8r; 1.275) that the
giants once lived in with the places that his fifteenth-century con-
temporaries flee to in times of war.
Having brought the affairs of fifteenth-century England closer to
the reader and offered an explanation for the demise of the giants who
inhabited the land before the arrival of Brutus, Hardyng sustains a
high moral tone and continues with the theme of divine intervention to
conclude Book One and introduce Book Two. In a subsequent inter-
jection, which intriguingly isolates the story of the sisters from the rest
of the history, Hardyng provides what could be described as a second
preface to the Chronicle, employing several rhetorical devices com-
mon to medieval prologues – all of which appear in Walton’s pre-
fatory materials – in order to place himself and his work within an

established literary tradition of esteemed authors. After noting his
preference for writing ‘In Englisshe tonge’,10 he temporarily shifts
from rhyme-royal stanzas (as used by Chaucer for Troilus, Walton for
books four and five of his Boethius, and Lydgate for his ‘Triumphal
Entry’) to eight-line stanzas (as used by Walton for the first three
books of his translation).11 He then confesses to a lack of eloquence,
and calls upon God to help him write the story of Brutus, borrowing
from Walton’s first ‘Translator’s Preface’:
Hardyng
I shalle reporte as God wille deyne to lede
My symple goste unkunnynge in lettrure
As liketh hym with language me to fede.
To whom I pray for spede unto the ende

My wytte enforce in myght and sapience.
Of other goddis, whiche poetes used and kende
In olde poeses, I lak intelligence,
Ne nought I wille so hurte my conscience
On thaym to muse, whiche God defendeth me,
And als for sothe for any eloquence
I tasted never the welles of Caliope.
Yit wille I nought pray helpe of Saturnus,

Of Jubiter, ne Mars, or Mercury,
Venus, Ceres, Phebus, or Seveus,
Of Pallas, ne Alecte, or Megary,
Of Genyus, or yit Thesiphony,
Of Cupido, ne of Ymeneus,
Mynerve, Diane, Bachus, or Cerbery,
Manes, Glaucus, Vulcane, or Protheus.
Tho goddis olde and fals I alle refuse

And pray to God, that sitte in Trynyté,
My goste to guy on thaym that it nought muse,
Enspirynge it in alle sufficienté
Of suche language, as is necessité,
This boke to ende in balade and translate,
Thus newe bygunne of my symplicité,
Amonges makers it be unreprobate.
(fols. 8v-9r; 2.14-40)
Walton
Noght liketh me to labour, ne to muse
Upon þese olde poysees derk,
For Cristes feith suche þinges schulde refuse;
Witnes upon Ierom þe holy clerk.
Hit schulde not ben a Cristen mannes werk
Tho false goddes names to renewe,
For he þat hath resayued Cristes merk,
If he do so to Crist he is vntrewe ...
And certayn I haue tasted wonder lyte

As of the welles of Calliope
No wonder þough I sympilly endite,
Yit will I not vnto Tessiphone
Ne to Allecto ne to Megare
Besscchyn after craft of eloquence,
But pray þat God of hys benignite
My spirit enspire wiþ hys influence;
So þat in schenschip and confusioun

Of all þis foule worldly wrecchydnesse,
He helpe me in þis occupacioun.
In honour of þat sofferayn blisfulnesse
And eke in reuerence of youre worthinesse
This simple werk as for an obseruance
I schal begynne after my simpelnesse
In wil to do hour seruice and plesance.
(First ‘Translator’s Preface’, stanzas 6, 8-9)
By calling attention to his knowledge of earlier historical works

in ‘olde poeses’, and inviting comparison between the ‘eloquence’ of
past authors and his own ‘symplicité’, Hardyng, like Walton, adopts a
conventional ‘modesty’ topos, which ultimately suggests the opposite
of his protestations of ignorance. Presenting himself as a simple, un-
skilled truth teller, inspired by God, who refuses to invoke pagan
gods, Hardyng exercises his free will and affirms his spiritual humili-
ty.12 To conclude the interjection he follows Walton once again by
submitting himself humbly (and conventionally) to his secular betters
by asking them to ‘corecte’ and ‘amende’ his book ‘Whare as thay
thynke my wytte in ought hath merred’ (fol. 9r; 2.49-56).13 Though
Hardyng’s declaration that God will guide his hand implies that the
Chronicle is unlikely to need correction, his utilisation of the modesty
trope effectively recalls his self-portrait in the prologue: he is a loyal
servant who happily yields himself to the will of a king and wishes to
please him by recording the deeds of his ancestors. It is at this point
that Hardyng leaves Walton and begins to draw upon Chaucer’s Tro-
ilus for phrases that will illustrate the fortunes of Henry’s forebears.
Shortly after Brutus’s lineage has been addressed, Hardyng intro-
duces the future British king and imitates Chaucer’s ‘O Fortune,
executrice of wierdes’ (1.1, 1.54) and Troilus’ ‘double sorwe’
(III.617) to highlight the role of Fortune in the hero’s life:
And of his age that tyme he had no pere,
So was he sette in alle nobilité,
And trew in alle by ought that couthe appere,
Stedfast also withoute mutabilité.
His fadir so for joy he of hym hadde,

As Fortune wolde, executrice of weerdes,
Led hym to wode apon a day fulle gladde …
With that Brutus as he an herte dyd shete
His fadyr slew, as was afore his weerdes,
Wharefore his herte was oute of alle quyete.
Thus were his werdes at that tyme execute

By Fortunes fals and fallib[l]e execucioun,
By clerkes aforne spoken and prelocute.
How myght it be bot verry constitucioun
Of God above, and by his institucioun,
Whiche myght noght be in no wise dissolute,
Withouten hym to whom alle retribucioun
Fully longeth and may alle retribute?
Brutus seand thys fals fortunyté

The sorows grete in hym so multiplyde
That thare for shame of that fortuyté
In no wyse wolde he lengar dwelle, ne byde,
Bot into Grece his sorows forto hyde
He wente anone, whare exils were of Troy,
Of whom thay were right glad and medifyde,
Thaire double sorowe he leched alle with joy.
(fol. 12v; 2.317-44)
The presentation of Brutus as a virtuous young man ‘withoute

mutabilité’ contrasts with the capriciousness of Fortune to introduce
one of the Chronicle’s principal themes: that no man can eschew
Fortune’s mutability, but steadfastness and virtue provide the best de-
fence against her and the surest way of recovering one’s ‘fortunes’. In
deliberating God’s relationship to Fortune, Hardyng notes that every-
thing happens at God’s behest, thus when Brutus flees to Greece to
hide his sorrows his encounter with the Trojans suggests that he is
fulfilling a destiny that God had foreknowledge of.14 The depiction of
him as physician to the Trojans’ ‘double sorowe’ recalls the Boethian
sickness imagery used in the prologue to describe Hardyng’s twofold
distress at being unrewarded and injured from his royal service, per-
haps indicating that the author wanted to align Henry VI’s potential to
‘leche’ his subjects’ current sorrows with Brute’s ability to help and
emancipate the Trojans and establish a great kingdom.
When Brutus and his men arrive in Albion to claim it as their
own and kill the last remaining giants, Hardyng appropriates Chau-
cer’s phrase ‘kalendes of chaunge’ (Troilus, V.1632-34) to signify the
change of name from ‘Albion’ to ‘Britain’ and interjects with a ‘con-
ceyte on evyl levynge and wrongful governance of peple’ (fol. 16r;
2.639m), which refers back to the iniquitous inhabitants of Albion and
insists that the audience ‘take hede’ of pride and the transience of
earthly joy. Once again, his verse is indebted to Troilus and Criseyde:
Hardyng
O ye yonge, fresshe and lusty creatures,
In whiche the pride up groweth with youre age,
Take hede of thise unsely aventures
Of thise ladise and of alle thaire lynage
And thynke on God that after his ymage
Yow made, and thynke this world shalle passe away
As sone as done the floures fresshe and gay.
Suche fyne lo hath Dame Albyne and hir sisters,

That groundyd were to sla thaire husbondes alle.
Suche fyne lo hath thaire cursed werkes and mysters.
Suche fyne lo hath upon thaire isshue falle.
Such fyne lo hath thaire generacion alle,
That bene dystroyde so sone and slayne away,
For pryde and synne and for thaire fals array.
(fol. 16r; 2.639-52)
Chaucer
Swich fyn hath, lo, this Troilus for love!
Swich fyn hath al his grete worthynesse!
Swich fyn hath his estat real above!
Swich fyn his lust, swich fyn hath his noblesse!
Swich fyn hath false worldes brotelnesse!

And thus bigan his lovyng of Criseyde,
As I haue told, and in this wise he deyde.
O yonge, fresshe folkes, he or she,

In which that love up groweth with youre age,
Repeyreth hom fro worldly vanyte,
And of youre herte up casteth the visage
To thilke God that after his ymage
Yow made, and thynketh al nys but a faire,
This world that passeth soone as floures faire.
(Troilus, V.1828-41).
In adapting the moment where Troilus recognises that Criseyde

has betrayed him, and reworking the ensuing exclamation about his
tragic end and the transience of worldly things, Hardyng once again
underscores the pride that hastened the demise of Albine and her
empire. An explicit reference to Fortune, which was so integral to her
founding the realm, is noticeably absent here, but in contrasting the
eternity of God with the ephemeral nature of ‘this world’, Hardyng
tenders a powerful Boethian commentary on the empires that Fortune
causes to rise and fall under God’s auspices.
Having established a pattern of turning to Troilus for phrases
which underscore significant moments of change in the fortunes of the
realm and the lives of its first rulers, Hardyng will return to Chaucer’s
tragedy time and again to highlight other crucial points in his
country’s history where Fortune, Providence and the free will of men
have initiated great change. In the reign of King Cassibalain, for
example, Hardyng employs a proverb taken from Troilus to signal that
Cassibalain’s inability to resolve a disagreement amongst his men will
precipitate Caesar’s conquest of Britain.15 In failing to keep peace and
maintain order within his own realm, Cassibalain’s fortunes turn and
his country is conquered and forced to pay tribute to Rome. Similarly,
in the reign of Henry IV, Hardyng recycles the sickness imagery from
the prologue and Chaucer’s ‘kalendes of chaunge’ (Troilus, V.1632-
34) to highlight the onset of civil war between Owain Glyn Dŵr,
Henry Percy and the king (see Peverley 2004a: 184-86; 2004b: 157 ).
Perhaps the most lamentable demise in the history, however, is
that of the British people under King Cadwallader, whose disastrous
reign concludes with the expulsion of the Britons from their land and
Hardyng’s longest interjection on Fortune, free will and Providence in
the Chronicle. Cadwallader’s lack of good governance and failure to
enforce the law allows the kingdom to degenerate so much that

foreign invaders are able to exploit the divisions amongst Cadwalla-
der’s subjects and conquer the realm, plundering its resources and
forcing the British to abandon their homeland. Inspired by Chaucer’s
Troilus and Boethian philosophy, Hardyng’s eleven-stanza ‘com-
pleynte … for the grete payne whiche the kynge and his Bretons had
at thaire departynge oute of Bretayne’ (fol. 110r; 4.1806m) is quite
remarkable. After comparing the tragic loss of the kingdom to a host
of classical tragedies, such as the fall of Troy and the brothers Poly-
nices and Eteocles killing each other (taken from Troilus V.1478-
1508), Hardyng muses on the nature of Fortune, predestination and
free will:
O Fortune, whiche that hath the permutacioun
Of thinges alle as it ys to thee yeve
By previdence and consideracioun
Of God above, as remes muste be dreve
Fro folke to folke so whan thay shalle remeve
The floures fayre of Bretayne pulde away
With pestylence and werre fro day to day.
With hungre eke, and other sodeyn chaunce,

So plucked were the fedyrs by processe
Of Bretons so, thurgh grete mesgovernance,
That in shorte tyme thaire knyghtly worthynesse
Deplumed was and made ful bare dredelesse
By Saxons strengthe and Englissh grete powere,
That from thensforth helde Englonde than ful clere.
For whiche me thynke that every creature

Owe to bewayle by way of gentellesse
The altercacioun and grete mesaventure
Of so noble folke putte into dystresse,
Whiche thurgh the worlde afore so were perelesse,
And after than be fayne thayre londe to fle.
How myght thay have a more adversyté?
Unde Boicius dicit maximum genus infortunii est fuisse felicem16
The Bretoun blode, whils that it dyd endure,

Swerde off knyghthode and sors of gentyllesse
Accounted was with every creature
And over alle londes the name of worthynesse
It bare alway unto that tyme doutlesse,
And than to fle fro it with peynefulle herte,

No mervelle thof fulle sore it dyd thaym smerte.
O lorde God, seth thy dyvyne purvyance

Hath sene afore thaire grete adversité
That thaym shulde falle for thaire mesgovernance,
It myght not fayle, ne yit eschewed be,
Bot so muste ben of alle necessité,
And els in thee had bene no prescience,
Whiche were contrary to thyne omnipotence.
Bot that thou haste foresight and prescience

Of thynge to come in erthe that shalle befalle,
I preve and els were none omnipotence
In thee, for whiche thy Goddehed shulde appalle,
Bot thy forsyght makyth no cause at alle
Of oure fortune, ne of oure contyngence,
That fre wylle hath us yove by hole sentence.
Wharfore I wylle by Bretons thus conclude,

Thy forknowynge, ne yit thy prevydence,
Ne caused nought thaire surfete to exclude,
Ner yit to done it in experience,
Bot fre choyse hole caused the violence
Of thaire fortune and thayre deficience.
(fols. 110r-110v; 4.1834-81)
Borrowing the vivid description of ‘knyghtly worthynesse’ being

‘deplumed’ from Troilus V.1541-47 and the compelling ‘Swerde off
knyghthode and sors of gentyllesse’ from Chaucer’s ‘Litera Criseydis’
(V.1591) to illustrate the renown of ‘Bretoun blode’, Hardyng laments
the capriciousness of Fortune, but emphasises, in true Boethian
fashion, that man is ultimately responsible for his own actions. He
concedes that God has ‘forsyght’, for if he did not it would be ‘con-
trary’ to his omnipotence, and by reflecting on predestination and free
will, like Troilus (IV.958-1071) and Boethius (Book 5), he overcomes
the problematic issue of whether destiny can coexist with free will by
noting that although God has ‘prescience / Of thynge to come in erthe’
man still has ‘fre wylle’.17 Cadwallader and the British had the ‘fre
choyse’ of governing the kingdom well, to chose ‘genytllesse’ over
‘violence’ and ‘altercacioun’, but they did not. The decision to behave
so miserably was theirs alone.
While Cadwallader and his Britons exemplify, like Albine and

her sisters, how mutable earthly empires are and how man’s ‘fre
choyse’, if used for wicked purposes, can hasten the fall of a kingdom,
Hardyng also laments the fleeting lives of those kings who do act for
the good of the common weal and who govern their kingdoms so well
that they are able to expand their sovereignty and conquer other
realms. For example, special praise – again inspired by lines from
Troilus – is given to King Alfred. Hardyng asks God to have mercy on
the king’s soul before reminding the audience of his incredible
achievements and describing him as a greater conqueror than Scipio
Africanus:
Hardyng
O gode lorde God in thre, eterne of lyve,
That regneste in thre, and two, and one,
Who seeth alle thynge and alle can syrcu[m]scryve,
Have mercy of this kynge that is so gone
For so worthy conqueroure was never none
In alle the worlde that day that he exspyred,
Within his owne to suche tryumphe aspyred.
His grete conqueste more was to bene commende

Than the tryumphe whiche Cypioun in Spayne
Had whan he wan now Cartage that men wende
Might noght be won...
(fol. 118v; 4.2526-32)
Chaucer
Thow oon, and two, and thre, eterne on lyve,
That regnest ay in thre, and two, and oon,
Uncircumscript, and al maist circumscrive,
Us from visible and invisible foon
Defende, and to thy mercy, everichon,
So make us, Jesus, for thi mercy, digne,
For loue of mayde and moder thyn benigne.
(Troilus, V.1863-69)
Likewise, Edward I and Henry V are singled out as remarkable leaders

and their passing is bewailed by the author, who reworks Troilus
III.618-20, III.1450-52, IV.330, IV.1546, and V.3-7 in his attack on
Death and the Fates for cutting the kings’ lives short and preventing
them from achieving even greater things:
Hardyng on Edward I
Nota how the makere blameth Deth for the ravyshement of this
kynge oute the worlde afore he had sette alle that londe in pese
O influences of these hevens clere,

Undyr whom so God hath us sette to be,
Why suffred ye this kynge that had no pere
From his peple so to appalle and de,
That was the floure that day of Cristenté
Thurghout the worlde, of knyghthode fulle appreved
In Cristendome and hethenesse, as was breved?
O olde, unholsom and mysbeleved Dethe,

What had the kynge so gretly thee displesed
That he contacte was with thy cursed brethe
And slayne so sone that myght this londe have esed?
O cruelle Deth, that so feel hath desesed,
Acursed be thyne unprovysed sentence
Thrugh whiche was spent alle Englondes hole defence.
O thou olde Dethe and fole insipient,

That in thyne age founeste and waxest madde
Withoute resoun or gode advisement,
Why toke thou so that prynce so feel dyd gladde
And thousondes lefte in londe that were fulle badde?
O fole! Wolde God I had suppowaylement
To exile thee from alle suche regyment,
Bot sothe it is thrugh thyne incipience,

Thou spareste none, nayther prynce, ne emperoure,
And wele worse doest thou thrugh thy violence
That takest thaym whan thay bene in thaire floure.
Allas, that suche as thou shulde so devoure
So feel prynces as thou hast brought tyl ende
And mo thou wylte that may noght thee defende.
(fols. 178r-178v; 6.980m-1007)
Hardyng on Henry V
Genyus, god of alle humayne nature,
No thynge myght stretche his lyfe forto solace,
So att repose by cruelle conjecture
The threde of lyfe in mydde dyd breke and race,
Whiche Lathesis had sponne and gan out lace,
Parcas systres amonge whom suche envye
Es: what oon spynth, the tother breketh in hy.

(fol. 215v; 7.492-97)
The juxtaposition of classical gods alongside the Christian God

in Hardyng’s dirge for Henry V seems to contradict the author’s re-
fusal to call upon pagan gods at the start of his work; however, by
opening with a reference to Genius, the god of human nature, and the
image of the Parcae weaving and breaking the thread of man’s life,
then noting that Henry V died having taken ‘his sacrementes / In alle
hole fayth and Cristen hole creance’ (fol. 215v; 7.505-6), Hardyng
manages to appropriate the heroism associated with similar lamen-
tations for classical heroes in works such as Lydgate’s Fall of Princes
(1.5006-14, 5.988-90).18
Though the borrowings in both laments are minor in terms of the
actual words used by Hardyng, the ideas underpinning the interjec-
tions are clearly influenced by Boethian concepts. Hardyng’s inability
to reconcile the apparent injustice of Death taking a good man and
leaving thousands of bad people alive is a case in point. Echoing a
lengthy interjection addressed to God at the end of Æthelred the
Unready’s reign, in which Hardyng bewails the death of innocents and
the survival of ‘fulle fele’ wicked people, the lamentation for Ed-
ward I’s passing draws on the questions posed by Boethius’s narrator
as he seeks to understand how Fortune operates under the auspices of
God and why good people always appear to suffer while the ‘gylty’
flourish.19 Though Lady Philosophy answers the narrator’s questions
in the Consolation, Hardyng prefers to deem his musings ‘insoluble’
and make his complaints about the kings’ deaths relevant to the un-
certain times in which he lives: the only certainties are that Death will
take ‘mo’ great princes like Edward and that malefactors ‘now in
this[e] londes’ will continue to operate unchecked unless stopped by
the king (fol. 125v; 4.3105).
Of all of the kings whose lives are examined in the Chronicle,
Hardyng’s account of King Arthur is perhaps the most emotive. Aside
from the fact that Hardyng dedicates more space to Arthur than any
other sovereign, his reign is the only one which is explicitly framed
with references to Fortune in the main body of the text at both the
beginning and end of his reign:20
Fortune was so frendly at his byrthe
That of alle folke he was ever wele beloved
And rychesse als so comforte ever his myrth,
That with poverte he was never sore amoved,

And through corage his herte was ay commoved
To sette the londe in dewe obedience
By alle his wytte and hole intelligence.
And sodenly the youth of alle knyghthode,

For his largesse and his liberalité,
Approched so and came to his manhode
To bene subgyttes unto his soveraynté.
So hole Fortune hyre werdes in propreté
Unto his helpe and honoure execute
That alle his wille was sped and insecute.
(fol. 67v; 3.2262-75)
Whilst these stanzas are positive in tone, they establish unques-

tionably that Arthur’s reign will be just as subject to the whimsicality
of Fortune as the tenures of previous kings. For the first half of his
reign Fortune is kind to the king and Hardyng relates Arthur’s
spectacular achievements as they occur in his chronicle sources, oc-
casionally supplementing them with material from Arthurian romance.
But prosperity in the Arthurian realm ends once Arthur is betrayed,
like Troilus, by one of the people most close to him. The attack on
Fortune at the end of Arthur’s reign, once again inspired by Troilus, is
particularly poignant because Hardyng cannot understand how For-
tune could have been so unkind to such a noble monarch:
O gode lorde God, suche tresoun and unrightes,
Whi suffred so devyne omnipotence,
Whiche had of it precyence and forsightes
And myght have lette that cursed violence
Of Modredes pryde and alle his exsolence
That noble kynge forpassynge conqueroure
So to dystroy and waste thurgh his erroure?
O thou Fortune, executrice of werdes,

That evermore so with thy subtylité
To alle debates so strongly thou enherdes
That men that wolde ay leve in charité
Thou dooste perturbe with mutabilité,
Why stretched so thy whele upon Modrede
Agayne his eme to do so cruelle dede?
Whare thurgh that hiegh and noble conqueroure

Withouten cause shulde sogates perisshit be
With so fele kynges and prynces of honoure

That alle the worlde myght never thare better se.
O fals fallace of Modredes propreté
How myght thou so in Gaynore have suche myghtes
That she the dethe caused of so fele knyghtes?
Bot O Modrede that was so gode a knyght

In grete manhode and proudely ay approved
In whom thyne eme the nobleste prynce of myght
Putte alle his truste so gretely he thee loved
What unhappe so thy manly goste hath moved
Unto so foule and cruelle hardynesse
So fele be slayne thurgh thyne unhappynesse?
The highnesse of thyne honoure had a falle

Whanne thou beganne to do that injury
That grete falshode thy prowesse dyd apalle
Alsone as in thee entred perjury
By consequent tresoun and traytory
Thy lorde and eme, also thy kynge soverayne,
So to bytrayse thy felaws als sertayne.
(fol. 87r; 3.3871-3905)
Hardyng’s questioning of Mordred’s actions parallels his

bewilderment at Fortune’s mutability and God’s lack of intervention,
but it also implies that Arthur’s fortunes only began to change once
Mordred betrayed him and brought treachery into the Arthurian king-
dom through his own fickleness and instability. Arthur’s reign, then,
offers a perfect example of the role that Fortune plays in British
history as Hardyng understands it. Here we witness the greatest of
Henry VI’s predecessors fail to eschew Fortune’s capriciousness, but
it is not because of poor leadership or immoral behaviour on his part.
The lesson to be learnt from Arthur’s reign, and the reigns of other
good kings who fall victim to Death or a tragic turn of Fortune’s
wheel, is that misfortune is repeatedly brought about by the actions of
men and the poor choices that they make. Despite the fact that God
has ‘precyence’ and is said, both before and after this episode, to hold
dominion over all ‘hevyn, and helle, and erth … Withouten helpe, or
yit suppowelment / Of any wyght, bot of his own deyté’ (fol. 195v;
2438-40), he will not intervene or alleviate the consequences of men’s
actions. Hardyng habitually maintains that it is beyond his comprehen-
sion to fully understand this, but he takes solace in his belief that
monarchs like Arthur did their best. Though he ultimately becomes a
victim of Fortune’s vicissitudes when his trusted nephew betrays him,

the stability Arthur brings to Britain enables him and his people to
prosper until that fateful moment. This is what makes him a monarch
worthy of praise and why his tragic end is so poignant for Hardyng.
The influence of Lydgate’s ‘Triumphal Entry’ on the Chronicle

Having established that Hardyng turns to Walton’s translation of Boe-
thius and Chaucer’s Troilus to denote moments of great tragedy and
change in British history, one might assume that Hardyng uses the
other poetic source that this article is concerned with – Lydgate’s
occasional poem ‘King Henry VI’s Triumphal Entry into London 21
February 1432’ – in a distinctly different manner, being concerned as
it is with a moment of triumph and celebration, rather than worldly
transience, tragedy, and Fortune’s whimsicality. To an extent this is
true, for Hardyng employs it to provide a contrast to the lamentable
moments in the history that are emphasised with borrowings from
Troilus; yet Hardyng’s use of Lydgate ultimately complements his
employment of the other Middle English poems.
Designed to commemorate Henry VI’s return to London after his
coronation in Paris as king of England and France, the ‘Triumphal
Entry’ offers, in 77 rhyme royal stanzas, an elaborate account of the
king’s entry into, and procession around, the capital. At various stages
the verses show that the king has the traditional qualities associated
with kingship (piety, strength, wisdom etc.), and they invite com-
parison between his entry and the triumphal entries of celebrated
antique leaders, such as Julius Caesar and Scipio Africanus. For all of
this, however, Lydgate’s work is very much a civic piece, dedicated to
the mayor, to commemorate London’s role in the event and its unique
relationship with the king.21 Quite how Hardyng came across a copy
of the poem is unclear; its presence in other chronicles is not unheard
of, but Hardyng’s use and modification of the verse is distinct from
other chroniclers’ incorporation of it. Instead of inserting all, or part,
of the poem into his account of Henry VI’s reign, as other chroniclers
do, Hardyng reworks small sections of the text on five separate oc-
casions throughout the Chronicle: in the prologue, and in the reigns of
King Cassibalain, King Arthur, Edward I and Henry VI. His use of the
poem to illustrate the event that it was originally written to com-
memorate is slight and, when viewed in isolation, looks like nothing
more than a quirky poetic embellishment of his more pedestrian verse;
yet when the five borrowings are considered together, they offer a
fascinating insight into Hardyng’s perception of Lydgate’s ‘Triumphal

Entry’ and its significance to his understanding of sovereignty and
British history. It is to each of these borrowings that I will now turn.
The first borrowing, whilst minor, occurs at the start of the
Chronicle, providing the opening line of Hardyng’s dedication to Hen-
ry VI and his family, just before Hardyng uses the Boethian medical
metaphor to explain his plight:
Hardyng
O soverayne lord, be it to youre plesance
This book to take of my symplicité
Thus newly made for rememorance,
Whiche no man hath in worlde bot oonly ye.
(fol. 2v; Prol.1-4)
Lydgate
Sovereyn Lord and noble Kyng (63)
O noble Meir! be yt vnto youre plesaunce (531)
The line is made up from the first line of Lydgate’s envoy to

John Welles, Mayor of London, which expresses the poet’s hope that
Welles will be pleased with the poem, and the first two words of the
mayor’s prose speech to the king at Blackheath. Hardyng conflates the
two lines into an expression of his own desire that Henry VI and his
family will enjoy the Chronicle and learn about the king’s dominion
from it. Just as Lydgate commemorates London’s power and dedicates
the work to London’s official representative, so Hardyng commem-
orates Henry’s sovereign power and dedicates the Chronicle to him as
England’s figurehead.
In transposing the civic power of London and its mayor cele-
brated in Lydgate’s ‘Triumphal Entry’ into royal authority, Hardyng
establishes what he will do with each of the other borrowings from
Lydgate’s verse: he will underscore the importance of celebrating
positive displays of royal power, and strengthening the bond between
a king and his people. Just as Lydgate records the king’s entry in verse
to celebrate and consolidate London’s role in the event, so Hardyng
records the history of the king’s ancestors to celebrate and consolidate
Henry VI’s status as king. This, however, is not the only function of
Hardyng’s borrowings, as illustrated by his second appropriation of
Lydgate.
Before describing the aforementioned conflict between King

Cassibalain’s men, which allows Caesar to conquer Britain, Hardyng
takes time to describe how Cassibalain managed to repel Caesar’s first
two attempts to invade the realm. After his second victory over
Caesar, the king honours those who helped him secure the British
victory and maintain his power by making sacrificial offerings to his
gods and holding a great feast and tournament for his subjects, par-
ticularly his knights (fols. 36r-36v; 2.2326-46). The narrative follows,
for the most part, events as they occur in Hardyng’s main chronicle
sources, but, in a final stanza describing the feast, Hardyng under-
scores the jubilation of Cassibalain’s subjects by departing, momen-
tarily, from the chronicle tradition and drawing on the ‘Triumphal
Entry’:
Hardyng
How the makere commendes the joysement of the peple for his
triumphe and victory agayns Julius Cesar
Suche joy was nought I say in Romany

Made for tryhumphe and the gloriousté
Whan Julyus came home with victory,
Ne for conqueste of Sipions pousté
Whan he so at Cartage had alle degré,
As was than at Cassibalaynes feste
Amonge the folke assembled moste and leste.
(fol. 36v; 2.2347-53)
Lydgate
Suche ioye was neuere in the Consistorie,
Made ffor the tryvmphe with alle the surplusage,
Whanne Sesar Iulius kam home with his victorie;
Ne ffor the conqueste off Sypion in Cartage;
As London made in euery manere age,
Out off Fraunce at the home komyng
In-to this citee off theyre noble Kyng.
(517-23)
By imitating Lydgate’s comparison of the Londoners’ joy at

Henry VI’s entry and the elation witnessed at the triumphal entries of
Caesar and Scipio, the joy of the people at Cassibalain’s celebrations
simultaneously recalls the pleasure experienced at the great triumphal
entries of antiquity and eclipses it, making the early Britons worthy of
special commendation from ‘the makere’ in the accompanying margi-
nalia because, with their own communal display of appreciation and

delight, the people reciprocate their sovereign’s jubilation and ac-
knowledge his exemplary leadership. For a brief moment in the
tumultuous history of Britain, before Hardyng employs the proverb
from Chaucer reminding us of the mutability of worldly joy, the
British people are at one with each other and their king; they are
united under a common cause and grateful for the role that each has
played in expelling Caesar’s army and preserving their liberty.
While Lydgate’s verses commemorate the special bond between
Henry VI and London by comparing the Londoners’ happiness with
the rapture witnessed at famous triumphal entries in the past, Hardyng
appropriates Lydgate’s verse to underscore the special bond between a
sovereign and his people and the great things that can be achieved
when Britain is unified under a common goal: the preservation of the
common weal.
Though Cassibalain retains his throne after Caesar has conquered
Britain and left again to make war ‘Upon Pompey’ (fol. 37v; 2.2436)
– the same war anachronistically mentioned in Hardyng’s borrowing
from Lydgate – the once victorious king must suffer the indignity of
paying ‘tribute with alle humylité / To Rome alway (fol. 37v; 2.2446-
47). In a poignant turn of Fortune’s wheel, the king who managed to
rule well and defend his realm until civil conflict between his men was
allowed to go unchecked, loses his greatness and finds himself subject
to Rome, an unhappy fate that inevitably impacts upon future British
kings and their people.
By drawing upon Lydgate’s verses to underline a moment of
prosperity and then utilising a fragment of Chaucer’s Troilus to mark
the onset of adversity, Hardyng manages to stress the mutability of
Fortune even more emphatically than before. More importantly, he is
able to demonstrate that it is a king’s duty to maintain peace and
stability in his realm, as a unified kingdom is better equipped to guard
against Fortune’s capriciousness. Solidarity cannot stop Fortune, as
the Chronicle frequently shows in its account of great sovereigns like
Edward I and Henry V, who champion stability only to meet a tragic
end, but it is the best defence against situations which invariably invite
disaster, such as civil war.
Hardyng’s third borrowing from Lydgate’s poem returns us to
the reign of King Arthur, a sovereign who rules well at all times,
unlike Cassibalain, but is nevertheless betrayed by those close to him,
as Cassibalain is. As we approach the geographical centre of Arthur’s
reign – marked by Galahad’s successful grail quest – we also reach the

pinnacle of Arthur’s worldly achievements. It is here that Hardyng
departs from his chronicle and romance sources to list all of the
European kings and princes that pay homage to Arthur and to expand
on the chronicle reports of Arthur’s conquest of France with a unique
account of his coronation in Paris, a modification that was no doubt
intended to recall Henry VI’s French coronation and draw attention to
the similarities between the only two sovereigns in the Chronicle to
hold the dual monarchy of England and France.
Hardyng’s Arthur marks the occasion of his French coronation
by admitting new knights to the Order of the Round Table and holding
a feast for forty days with ‘justes eche day for love of ladyse specialle’
(fol. 73r; 3.2695), a statement that naturally recalls Cassibalain’s
victory celebrations. After the festivities, Hardyng, possibly following
Mannyng, describes a nine year period of sustained prosperity during
which ‘the knyghtes of the Rounde Table sought and acheved many
aventures’ and Arthur remains in France, ‘gretly magnyfyde / Thurgh-
oute the worlde’.22 To parallel the French coronation which marked
the beginning of the nine years of peace and adventure, Hardyng
recasts the plenary court that other chronicles describe Arthur holding
upon his return to Britain as a second British coronation and embel-
lishes his sources’ account of the ensuing feast and the surfeit of wine
by reworking Lydgate’s description of the conduits of wine presented
to Henry VI at London ‘in tokne off alle gladnesse’ at the king’s
visitation (322).
Hardyng
And Duke Bedwere was chefe butelere,
A thousond knyghtes had clothed in a sute
In clothe of golde as fyne as myght affere,
Whiche served so the drynkes of refute,
Of dyverse wynes there spente and distribute
So plentyuouse that wondere was to se
The grete foysoun of wynes and dyversité;
Thetys, that was of waters chefe goddesse,

Thare had of thaym that tyme no regyment
For Bachus so thare regned with alle fulnesse,
Of myghty wynes, to every mannys intente,
Shad oute plenté so at that corounemente
To alle estates that there were moste and leste
For honoure so and worshyp of the feste.

(fol. 75r; 3.2863-76)
Lydgate
Thetes, which that is off waters chieff goddesse,
Hadde off the welle power noon ne myht,
For Bachus shewed there his ffulsomnesse
Off holsome wynes to euery manere wiht;
For wyn of nature makith hertes liht,
Wherfore Bachus, at reuerence off the Kyng,
Shewed oute his plente at his home komyng
… with full goode ffoysoun

Wynes off comforte and consolacioun
(314-20, 333-34)
Whereas the Lydgate extract focuses on Bacchus’ pouring out

wine in reverence of the king, Hardyng changes his stanza to empha-
sise the joy brought about by King Arthur’s presence and coronations.
Everybody, we are told, ‘alle estates’, whether ‘moste’ or ‘leste’ –
another echo of the people at Cassibalain’s celebrations – enjoys the
celebrations and partakes of the abundance of wine provided by the
king. In Hardyng’s version Bacchus does not pour his wines solely out
of reverence for the king, but so that every subject can enjoy the
celebrations and honour the feast. This public celebration of the dual
monarchy, the peace established under Arthur, and Arthur’s return to
Britain, is as much about the king’s people as it is about the king. In
Lydgate’s piece, it is the Londoners that provide the abundance of
wine and the accompanying pageantry to honour its king: that is, the
king is the one being honoured by the Londoners. In Hardyng, Arthur
provides the feast and wine for his subjects, allowing them to share in
his splendour. The king’s triumphs and conquests belong to his people
as well, and he is the one providing for his people rather than the
people providing for him. As he honours his people with the fes-
tivities, so his people pay homage to him. By changing his chronicle
sources and making Arthur’s celebrations at Caerleon part of a second
British coronation, rather than a plenary court, and by repeating all of
the subject-kings that pay homage to Arthur at that feast, Hardyng
depicts Arthur at the height of his power, and shows how unified all of
his kingdoms are under his rule, not just Britain and France.
Just as it did in Cassibalain’s reign, Lydgate’s ‘Triumphal Entry’
provides suitable material to commemorate the joy and unity of a king
and his people at the height of his power. Instead of the gathering at
Caerleon being interrupted by an emissary from Rome requesting that
Arthur pay tribute to the emperor, an episode that essentially marks
the beginning of Arthur’s end in other chronicles, Hardyng allows the
festivities to end joyously and creates a brief, but stable space for
Galahad’s grail quest to take place before Arthur’s fortunes begin to
turn. Only after this does Hardyng return to his chronicle sources to
embark on the story of Arthur’s encounter with the Emperor Lucius
and subsequent demise through Mordred’s treachery.
A similar display of kingly power to Arthur’s feast can be seen in
the fourth, most substantial, borrowing from the ‘Triumphal Entry’,
which occurs towards the end of Edward I’s reign. Elaborating on
details found in Mannyng’s Chronicle, Hardyng describes an elabo-
rate Pentecostal feast at Westminster (the same time of year that
Arthur’s chivalric company gathered for their celebrations), where the
marriages of Edward’s noble subjects, the earl of Arundel and Lord
Spenser, are celebrated along with Edward’s ‘grete powere’ and his
temporary control over affairs in Scotland.23
The festivities, lasting fourteen days, draw upon several aspects
of Lydgate’s verse in the references to ‘revelynge’, ‘mynstralcy’,
‘hevynyssh melody’, and ‘aungelyke’ women (fols. 176r-176v; 6.812-
32), but the ornate stanzas that follow utilize Lydgate most noticeably:
the weather is glorious, God is said to have blessed the times, the
people rejoice to see such a great display of royal power, Bacchus
pours his wines again, the celebrations surpass all those of the past,
except King Arthur’s at Caerleon, and the people’s praise is greater
than the praise given to the biblical King David after his victory.
Hardyng
The condytes fresshe and gloriouse arayed
With byrdes and bestes of golde fresshely depycte,
With baners feel above fulle fayre displayed,
The wynes oute sente in stremes undevycte
To alle comons, withoute any restricte,
So fulle Bachus with alle his plenytude
Of wynes thare shad to the multitude.
That tyme towarde the ende [of] lusty May,

Whan Phebus had into the Gemme so ronne
Out of the Bole that was the sexte day,
And kalendes newe were entred and bygonne
Of Juyn comynge, and als the mery sonne
By alle that tyme spyed out hire bemes bright

Upon this reme and made it glad and light,
The stormy wynde and tempeste hevynesse

Were gone away, as made is remembrance,
By alle the feeste there felle so grete gladnesse
Thurgh alle the reme men thought a suffyshance
The kynge to se and alle his governaunce,
His semelynesse, his countenance and chere,
With his vertu moralle and grete powere.
It was a tyme that God had so provyded,

Over alle the sky there myght no cloude be seyne,
From other tymes that tyme was so devyded
And fraunchised fulle fro mystes and fro reyne ,
With ayre attempre, no hetes to compleyne,
The heven than rejoysed of his repayre,
So inwardly the wether made so fayre.
Was never no feste afore in alle Bretayn

Ought lyke to it seth Jhesu Criste was borne,
Excepte the feste that Arthure made sertayn
At Caerlyoun his cyté longe aforne,
Ne yit the lawde that made was even and morne
For Kynge Davyd after his vyctory
Was nothynge lyke the joy and grete glory
Whiche in Londoun, for his famouse conqueste,

The peple made rejoysynge thurgh the reme
With ordenaunce grete forpassynge with the beste
Devyses rialle, the son with alle his beme,
The mone, and sterres, mynystrynge fayre thaire leme,
Conveyed wele by scripture excellent,
Whiche to declare I am noght eloquent.
(fols. 176r-176v; 6.812-67)
Lydgate
Towarde the ende off wyndy Februarie,
Whanne Phebus was in the Fysshe eronne,
Out off the Sygne, which called is Aquarie,
Newe kalendes wern entred and begonne
Off Marchis komyng, and the mery sonne
Vpon a Thursday shewed his bemys briht
Vppom London, to make hem glade and liht.
The stormy reyne off alle theyre hevynesse

Were passed away and alle her olde grevaunce,

For the vjte Herry, roote off here gladnesse,
Theyre hertis ioye, theyre worldis suffisaunce,
By trewe dissent crovnyd kyng off Fraunce,
The hevene reioysyng the day off his repayre
Made his komyng the wedir to be so ffayre.
A tyme, I trowe, off God ffor hym provided,

In alle the hevenes there was no clowde seyn,
From other dayes that day was so devided,
And ffraunchised ffrom mistys and ffrom reyn,
The eyre attempred, the wyndis smoth and pleyn,
The citezenis thurh-oute the Citee
Halwyd that day with grete solempnyte.
And lyke ffor Dauyd, affter his victorie

Reioyssed was alle Ierusalem,
So this citee with lavde, pris, and glorie,
For ioye moustred lyke the sonne beem,
To yeve ensample thuruh-out the reem …
Conveyed by scripture with ffull grete excellence,

Alle to declare I have noone eloquence
Wherfore I pray to alle that shall yt rede
Forto correcte where as they se nede.
(1-26, 67-70)
Clearly based on Lydgate’s verses, Hardyng’s stanzas emphasise

how blessed this part of Edward’s reign was and how favourably dis-
posed God and the weather were to the celebrations. The marriages of
Edward’s subjects help to underline the theme of unity and joy, whilst
Hardyng’s allusion to Arthur, taken from Mannyng and Langtoft be-
fore him, encourages the audience to make connections between the
two great monarchs.24
As before, both deviations from Hardyng’s chronicle sources
point towards the usefulness of royal spectacle in maintaining and
reaffirming the unity of king and people. Just as Cassibalain com-
memorates the British victory against Caesar through feasting and
chivalric display, and Arthur assembles his countrymen to feast with
him and celebrate his triumphs, so Edward I gathers his subjects to
celebrate his victory against Scotland and the marriages of his sub-
jects. Each monarch encourages his people to celebrate his victory as
their own by providing them with food and chivalric entertainment,
such as jousting. The lament for Edward’s death containing phrases

from Troilus, which later concludes the reign, similarly repeats the
pattern established in the reigns of Cassibalain and Arthur, as Hardyng
highlights the triumphs and tragedies of the kings’ reigns by imitating
his Middle English poetic sources.
Hardyng’s final borrowing appears where we would most ex-
pect it, and where other chroniclers utilise the ‘Triumphal Entry’: in
the description of Henry VI’s two coronations at Paris and West-
minster. However, in what appears to be a terrible chronological
blunder, Hardyng places the French coronation at Notre Dame in
December 1431 before the English coronation at Westminster in
November 1429 and reworks a stanza from Lydgate’s ‘Triumphal
Entry’ to describe how the capital cities of both realms were favoured
by God at that time:
Hardyng
The God above, in trone omnipotent,
So wele tho tymes than had afore provyde
From other tymes that alle the fyrmament
Of rayne and myste were fully clarifyde
And fraunchised hole from foule hayre and devyde,
Both Paryse and London by dylectacions
Halowed the festes of bothe coronacions.
(fol. 218r; 7.708-714)
Lydgate
A tyme, I trowe, off God ffor hym provided,
In alle the hevenes there was no clowde seyn,
From other dayes that day was so devided,
And ffraunchised ffrom mistys and ffrom reyn,
The eyre attempred, the wyndis smoth and pleyn,
The citezenis thurh-oute the Citee
Halwyd that day with grete solempnyte. (15-21)
Aside from recycling the image of God blessing those times,

seen previously in the Edward I example, it is clear from the equi-
valent Lydgate stanza that Hardyng expands the poet’s image of the
Londoners honouring the day to incorporate the celebratory mood of
those at the Paris coronation as well. In other words, he replaces the
very specific civic tone of Lydgate’s piece, emphasised by ‘the cite-
zenis thurh-oute the citee’, with an image of international solidarity
and peace: a united England and France.
Whilst this offers a positive view of the king’s dual inheritance,

the succinct nature of Hardyng’s account and the chronological error
in the order of events are nevertheless disappointing. For a chronicler
who was in the service of one of the leading Northern magnates at the
time of the coronations, and who would undoubtedly have heard of, if
not witnessed, the king’s spectacular return, Hardyng’s treatment of
the coronations warrants further attention. Perhaps the simplest
explanation for the error is that the 79 year old chronicler misre-
membered the order of ceremonies by the time he came to writing
about them over two decades after they occurred. However, this does
not appear to be the case, for in the second version of the Chronicle,
Hardyng rewrites the brief, but poetic description of events seen here
into a more matter-of-fact report, correcting the order of ceremonies
and omitting all traces of the Lydgate stanza. Of course, he may have
simply recognised the error and corrected it when revising his work,
but there is another explanation for the confused chronology, which
points towards the possibility that Hardyng was doing something far
more complex, which only becomes apparent when the description of
Henry’s coronations is considered within the wider context of the
history alongside other uses of Lydgate’s ‘Triumphal Entry’.
The very nature of Henry’s dual coronation and the solidarity of
the king’s subjects recalls Hardyng’s earlier account of King Arthur’s
French coronation and triumphal return to Britain, which, as already
mentioned, climaxes in a second British coronation marking the height
of his power. In placing Henry VI’s English coronation after the one
in Paris, perhaps Hardyng intended to parallel Arthur’s triumphant
return from France and subsequent British coronation to align Henry
with his predecessor and emphasise his status as the only other
monarch to hold the dual monarchy; by utilizing Lydgate’s ‘Trium-
phal Entry’, Hardyng is able to recast Henry’s return from Paris as
that of a conquering hero who unites his people in triumph, like
Arthur, or like his father, Henry V, who also processed through
London upon his return from France in 1415. Whatever the reason for
Hardyng’s chronological error, the poetic account of the coronations
in the first version of the Chronicle appears to be a dramatic device, a
way of linking Henry’s dual monarchy with the dual coronations of
Arthur, and the celebrations of Henry’s subjects with the celebrations
under previous British kings at the height of their power.
It is apparent by now that Hardyng views public displays of royal
power, and the revels that accompany them, as socially beneficial to
the kingdom, and that he turns to Lydgate’s verse for the literary em-
bellishments necessary to accentuate the spectacle of such events and
the sense of harmony they bring to the king’s subjects: all can partake
in celebrating the king’s power because all are united under him. The
festivities that bring together Paris and London under Henry VI, the
rich and poor under Cassibalain and King Arthur, and man and wife
under Edward I, underscore the value of ceremony and spectacle for
commemorating sovereign power and reasserting the bond between
king and subjects, just as Lydgate’s ‘Triumphal Entry’ commemorates
the special relationship between London and its sovereign, represented
by the royal entry. Hardyng turns to Lydgate for assistance in describ-
ing moments of great joy and triumph, just as he turns to Chaucer’s
Troilus and Walton’s translation of Boethius to describe moments of
great tragedy, loss, and change. Triumph and tragedy, prosperity and
disaster, are the two halves of Fortune’s wheel and like many late
fifteenth-century texts, Hardyng’s work shows that triumph and
tragedy often go hand in hand; at the height of their supremacy kings
are most glorious, but they are also most vulnerable, for the only way
that Fortune’s wheel can turn is down. Hardyng takes the exemplarity
of the past and underscores such moments of joy, sorrow, and change
more dynamically than other chroniclers by exploiting the poetic
sources of his contemporaries for their emotive language and philo-
sophical power. The commemorative nature of poetry may similarly
account for Hardyng’s decision to write his Chronicle in Chaucerian
rhyme royal stanzas as Chaucer’s literary disciples Hoccleve, Walton,
and Lydgate did.
Although the Chronicle shows that the greatest of kings can fall
prey to Fortune’s capriciousness, as had happened to Henry VI at the
time Hardyng began compiling his history, this should not prevent
them from wanting to achieve great things for their people, governing
well, and asserting their power publicly to maintain stability within
the realm for the common good. It is particularly striking that each of
the aforementioned episodes where Hardyng uses Lydgate emphasises
Henry’s VI entitlement to land no longer under his control and that the
majority of the borrowings from Chaucer are used to lament the loss
of kings who tried to recover the kingdoms once annexed to Britain.
At the time of the Chronicle’s composition, Scotland (which was
once part of Britain under Cassibalain and Arthur and which Edward I
tried to reclaim) and France (which only Arthur and Henry VI man-
aged to rule) were lost, and complaints that Henry was not exercising
his royal authority correctly were becoming increasingly common.

Perhaps Hardyng sought to encourage Henry to act for the common
good by giving something back to his people, not necessarily in the
form of great feasts or reclaiming his lost territories of Scotland and
France, although the text does advocate this in places and provides
visual stimuli to this end in the form of a map of Scotland and a
French pedigree, which may also have been inspired by Lydgate’s
‘Triumphal Entry’.25 Rather, by being seen to publicly administer
justice to those complaining of oppression and abuse, Henry could be
triumphant in bringing order and stability to his realm once again, and
once this was achieved the king would be better equipped to weather
whatever fortunes – good or bad – lay ahead. Hardyng often states that
Henry V, the king’s father, strove for order and would not allow
injustice, so neither should Henry VI. This is the familiar message
embedded throughout Hardyng’s Chronicle, not just the passages
inspired by Walton, Chaucer and Lydgate.26
Notes
1
For Hardyng, see Gransden (1982), Kennedy (1989), Peverley (2004), and Sum-
merson (2004). An edition of the first version is currently being prepared by James
Simpson and Sarah L. Peverley.
2
See, for example, Edwards (1988), Kennedy (1989b), Harker (1996), Riddy (1991,
2000), Moll (2003), and Peverley (2004a and 2004b).
3
Edwards (1998: 13). Edwards (1984) had previously noted the presence of a
borrowing from Troilus in the second version of the Chronicle.
4
Borrowings from Troilus supplementing those recorded by Edwards and an
unpublished account of Hardyng’s use of Walton and Lydgate can be found in
Peverley (2004a).
5
It is not possible to offer a full analysis of how Hardyng might have obtained the
aforementioned sources here or to discuss whether any of the extant manuscripts of
Chaucer’s Troilus, Walton’s Boethius, or Lydgate’s ‘Triumphal Entry’ might have
been the copies used by Hardyng. For some preliminary observations on these issues,
see Peverley (2004a).
6
London, British Library MS Lansdowne 204, fol. 2v; Prol.6-7. As the first version of
the Chronicle is, at present, unpublished, folio references are provided from the
manuscript. The equivalent book and line numbers from the forthcoming edition by
Simpson and Peverley are also given; any quotations taken from Hardyng’s
marginalia are referenced according to the line number of the stanza they precede in
the edition and a lower case ‘m’.
7
For Hoccleve’s autobiographical prologue and petition see The Regiment of Princes
(c. 1410). This text shares many similarities with Hardyng’s Chronicle: it is written in
rhyme-royal stanzas, which were clearly used in imitation of some of Chaucer’s
works (e.g. Troilus, The Parlement of Foules, ‘The Clerk’s Tale’, etc.); it begins with
a sick and financially vulnerable narrator; it discusses the role and responsibilities of a
sovereign, offering advice on good governance; it comments on a lack of con-
temporary justice and asks that those abusing the law be punished; it laments the
inconsistency of Fortune and offers examples of great kingdoms that have fallen; and
it warns of the perils of civil war. Though a provisional comparison of both texts
suggests that Hardyng did not borrow verbatim from Hoccleve, the work appears to
have influenced the Chronicle stylistically and thematically.
8
‘Si operam medicantis exspectas, orportet vulnus detegas’ (If you want the doctor’s
help, you must reveal the wound; CPh 144-47). Hoccleve: ‘Right so, if thee list have a
remedie / Of thyn annoy that prikkith thee so smerte, / The verray cause of thyn hid
maladie / Thow moot deskevere and telle out al thyn herte. / If thow it hyde, thow
shalt nat asterte/ That thow ne falle shalt in sum meschance; / Forthy amende thow thy
governance’ (Regiment, 260-66). Walton: ‘If þou coueitest help or remedy / Þat
musten hele þe woundes þat þe greuen, / Be than aknowen to me openly / And hyd it
noght and I the wil releuen’ (Book I, Prosa iv, stanza 1). Troilus: ‘For whoso list have
helyng of his leche, / To hym byhoveth first unwre his wownde’ (I.857-58).
9
For Hardyng’s treatment of the story in the second version, see Peverley (2008).
10
Fol. 8v; 2.8. Compare Walton’s first ‘Translator’s Preface’, stanzas 4-5.
11
Walton’s eight-line stanzas have the same rhyme scheme (ababbcbc) as those used
by Chaucer for ‘The Monk’s Tale’, which catalogues a series of tragedies caused by
Fortune; Hardyng often follows the same pattern, but occasionally modifies the rhyme
to ababbaba.
12
For further examples of the trope, see Troilus I.6-14 and IV.22-28; Osbern
Bokenham’s Life of Mary Magdalene in the Legendys of Hooly Wummen ( p. 143, ll.
5214-24); Lydgate’s The Life of Saint Alban (p. 85, ll. 1-28); and Lydgate’s The Life
of Our Lady (p. 428, l. 1659). For contemporary criticism by preachers on the use of
classical authorities, see Owst (1961: 178-80).
13
Compare Walton, Prologue, stanza 22: ‘And euery lord or lady what he be / Or
clerk þat likeþ for to rede þis, / Besekyng lawly wiþ humylite / Supporte where I haue
[seyde] amys; / Correcteþ only þere þat nedful is, / If word or sentence be noght as it
scholde. / My-self I am vnsuffishaunt I-wys / For if I couthe have bettre done I
wolde.’
14
Compare also Cornelius’s comment that it was his destiny to meet and follow
Brutus: fol. 14v; 2.505-12.
15
‘Bot ever as nexte the valey ys the hill, / So after joy comyth ay adversité’ (fol. 36v;
2.2354-60). Compare Troilus, I.950: ‘And next the valeye is the hill o-lofte’.
16
Compare this marginal gloss with Boethius’ The Consolation of Philosophy, Book
II, iv (CPh 190-91), and Hoccleve’s The Regiment of Princes, ll. 54-56 (Blyth 1999:
note to ll. 54-56). The maxim is also translated and used in the second version of the
Chronicle. Hardyng may have made the connection with Boethius from his own
knowledge of the Consolation, but equally, he could have encountered the annotation
in a Hoccleve manuscript or seen a similar gloss in a manuscript of Chaucer’s Troilus
(though a brief survey of the Troilus manuscript glosses collated by Benson and
Windeatt (1990) does not highlight any potential matches with the sixteen manu-
scripts they surveyed). For manuscripts of Hoccleve’s Regiment, including two copies
where the poem accompanies Walton’s Boethius, see the introduction to Blyth’s
edition (1999) and the works cited therein.
17
Since Troilus’ deliberation omits Boethius’ defence of free will, Hardyng appears to
be drawing on his knowledge of both sources simultaneously.
18
Reference to Lachesis spinning the thread of life also occurs in Lydgate’s Fall of
Princes and two of Osbern Bokenham’s works: in the De Consulatu Stilichonis she
weaves the robe offered to Stilicho and is mentioned again in the epilogue (Flügel
299, l. 33); in the Legendys of Hooly Wummen it is Lachesis who spins the author’s
own life thread (7, l. 248). Lamentations for Henry V also occur in Lydgate’s Fall of
Princes (1.5958-85), Walsingham’s Chronicle (64: II, 344), and the chronicle of John
Strecche, which compares the king to Hector, Achilles, Solomon and Troilus (Taylor
1932: 187).
19
See fols. 125r-125v; 4.3071-3126 (quotations taken from fol. 125v; 4.3101,
4.3105). Compare, for example with Troilus III.1016-22, Walton, Book 1, metrum v,
stanzas 5-6, and the discussion that dominates Book 4 of the Consolation, particularly
Walton’s Book 4, prosa 1, stanzas 2-7, and prosa vi, stanza 25-29. Though the
borrowing in Hardyng’s lament for Æthelred is thematic, it is probably no coincidence
that he uses the words ‘gylty’ and ‘gyltelesse’ (compare Troilus III.1018-19 ‘ungiltif’
and ‘giltif’) and ‘insoluble’ (compare Walton Book 4, prosa vi, stanza 26 ‘insolible’).
20
In the reigns of Richard II and Henry IV, Hardyng adds marginalia containing
verses from Gower’s Cronica Tripertita to frame the beginning of Richard’s reign and
his death (see Peverley 2004b: 152-53).
21
The verses appear to have circulated independently at first, but they were later
absorbed into the London Chronicles and Fabyan’s New Chronicles of England and
France. For manuscripts containing the poem, see Boffey and Edwards (2006: entry
3799). The poem is printed in The Minor Poems ( II, 630-48).
22
Fol. 73r; 3.2709m, 2710-11. Possible sources for the nine-year period of peace
include Geoffrey of Monmouth’s account of Arthur’s nine years in France (§155,
though Geoffrey describes nine years of conquest), Wace’s nine years of many
marvels (10143-46), or Mannyng’s nine years of peace during which the adventures
found in the French prose romances occurred (1.10761-74). For more on Arthur’s
nine-year sojourn, see Putter (1994) and Johnson (1991).
23
In Mannyng’s Chronicle, which is indebted to Peter Langtoft’s Chronicle, the feast
occurs on ‘Whitsonen day’, the Arundel and Spenser marriages are mentioned, and a
comparison is made between Edward’s feast and that held by Arthur at Caerleon,
which Hardyng borrows almost verbatim (‘in alle Bretayn was nouht siþen criste was
born, / a fest so noble wrouht aftere no biforn, / out tak Carleon þat was in Arthure
tyme; / þer he bare þe coroune, þerof hit men ryme’; Mannyng, 2.8119-22).
24
The references to Arthur mentioned here, which ultimately stem from Langtoft,
were doubtless inspired by Edward I’s interest in the legendary king; see Loomis
(1953), Parsons (1993), and Summerfield (1996 and 2005).
25
See Lydgate, ‘Triumphal Entry’, 391-411, and Peverley (2004a: 29, 170, 455).
26
Part of this research was presented at The Fifth International Medieval Chronicle
Conference (University of Belfast, July 2008). I would like to express my gratitude to
Dr Erik Kooper, Dr Juliana Dresvina, and my two anonymous reviewers for their
valuable feedback and support during the preparation of this article.
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Sixteenth Century. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.
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THE COMPILATION OF A SIXTEENTH-CENTURY
ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY:
THE USE OF MATTHEW PARIS IN JOHN FOXE’S ACTS AND MONUMENTS
Matthew Phillpott
Abstract
Historians who defended the Elizabethan religious settlement for a
Protestant England used medieval chronicles to reinterpret English
ecclesiastical history. They perceived that the Catholic Church had
deteriorated and fallen to the Antichrist over a period of some 1,000
years. This study examines how the chronicles written by Matthew
Paris in the thirteenth century were recalled by sixteenth-century
scholars as exempla to use against the papacy and its allies. It is
argued that the use of these chronicles, especially by the historian
and matyrologist John Foxe, help us to further understand the meth-
odology and truth claims with which sixteenth-century historians
examined their historical texts.
In the religious turmoil of the sixteenth century, England had swayed

back and forth between the dividing lines of Roman Catholicism and
the reformist agenda of Lutheranism and Calvinism. In the process,
scholars on both sides of the debate realised the potential usefulness of
deploying historical discourses as a means of defending and pro-
moting their church. It is hardly surprising that research into this
Reformation historiography has generally concentrated on a wide
sweep of historical interpretations and in providing a general synopsis
of the source materials.1 It is often through this intersection of texts
that the most interesting results are produced. However, there is some-
thing to be gained from occasionally narrowing the parameters to just
one or two sources as a means of testing our understanding. Such a
study can draw out aspects of the methodological and ideological
frameworks in which sixteenth-century historians interrogated their
sources. In this essay, therefore, we will examine one specific element
of this ‘propaganda’ campaign through the lens of one particular
example.
206 Matthew Phillpott
John Bale (1495-1563), an ex-Carmelite friar turned evangelical

reformer, had recognised from an early stage that the English past
could be reinterpreted for a Protestant defence. However, it was not
until the reign of Elizabeth I (1533-1603) that his ideas were promoted
and expanded upon by other Englishmen such as the martyrologist
John Foxe (1516/7-1587) and the first Elizabethan Archbishop of
Canterbury, Matthew Parker (1504-1575). Bale had realised that it
was not enough to simply reinterpret historical material already in
common usage. This was only the beginning. Rather, Bale promoted
the idea that material which had not transmitted well through the ages
would need to be re-discovered to find new truths and new evidence to
support their cause. The most prominent chronicle that Bale high-
lighted in this manner was the Chronica Maiora, a thirteenth-century
compilation by Matthew Paris of St Albans (c.1200-1259). This text
had largely failed to transmit into sixteenth-century historical writing
and was even claimed by some to have been suppressed by agents of
the Pope determined that its anti-papal contents should not be dis-
seminated.2 In his catalogue of English writers (the Catalogus), Bale
described Matthew Paris as a skilled and wise historian who ‘painted’
the ‘avarice, fraud, lies, deceit, pomp, shamelessness, tyranny, and
blasphemy’ of the Bishop of Rome for all to see.3 In an important
letter to Archbishop Parker dated 30 July 1560, Bale again expressed
his delight in reading Matthew Paris, for ‘no chronicle paynteth out
the byshop of Rome in more lyuely colours, nor more lyuely declareth
hys execrable procedynges, than it doth’ (Graham and Watson 1998:
29-30).
For Bale, Matthew Paris was an exemplar of why England’s past
authors were worth saving from destruction. He included extracts
from the smaller chronicle, the Historia Anglorum, in both editions of
his Catalogus (1548-49 and 1557-59), in the composition of his pole-
mical play on King John, and in various other polemic texts such as
The Apology of Johan Bale againste a ranke papist (1550) and his
Actes of Englysh Votaryes (1551).4 Based on Bale’s recommendation,
Matthew Paris’ text was disseminated into the German Lutheran,
Matthias Illyricus Flacius’ Catalogus Testium Veritatis (1556 and
1562), various volumes of the German Magdeburg Centuries (four-
teen volumes published between 1559 and 1574); and John Foxe’s
Acts and Monuments of Matters Most Speciall and Memorable, or by
its popular title The Book of Martyrs (mainly inserted in the 1570
edition).5 The larger chronicle, the Chronica Maiora, also became the
The Compilation of a Sixteenth-Century Ecclesiastical History 207
centrepiece of Matthew Parker’s publication of England’s historical

authorities.6
The chronicles of Matthew Paris were especially useful to Eliza-
bethan evangelical scholars since they portrayed a resentful opinion of
authorities beyond that of his Benedictine Order. As his modern bio-
grapher Richard Vaughan has emphasised, for Matthew Paris ‘all
methods of raising money on behalf of the Pope were considered
extortionate; and almost all forms of papal interference in England
were condemned as obnoxious and oppressive’ (Vaughan 1958: 140-
41). Although the same was true for the depiction of secular author-
ities, such outcries against papal interference in English affairs were
congenial to a Protestant viewpoint. However, a deployment of history
as a weapon against the Roman Catholic Church also required a
specific vision of truth. Both Parker and Foxe applied an explicit
methodology when they interrogated their sources. It informed their
reading of the Chronica Maiora and their interpretation and extraction
of material. When introducing his history, Foxe wrote that ‘Monkish’
writers had left ‘most thinges lost in silence’, or worse, ‘misshadowed
& corrupted’. They were ‘eyther not bold inough to tel truth, or not
afraide enough to beare with vntruth’ (A&M, 1570: Bk. 1, p. 1). Foxe
saw his role as that of a guide: he would draw out God’s truth from
England’s corrupted textual heritage and rehabilitate ‘the more sincere
and lesse suspected sort of writers’ (ibid.). This form of truth was, in
their opinion, unquestionable: any argument against it would in turn
have denounced God, and was therefore inadmissible. The Chronica
Maiora was one such text that was interrogated by this means as a
way of reforming England’s past through the reform of its texts.
In 1563 John Foxe published the first edition of his ecclesiastical

history and martyrology, the Acts and Monuments. Although it con-
centrated almost solely on Lollard and Reformation history, Foxe did
provide a brief summary of the medieval past, based upon an ideo-
logical belief that the Antichrist had been unleashed on the world in
the eleventh century and had corrupted the papacy. Foxe believed that
the true church was a persecuted one and that it had survived through
the Middle Ages in remote pockets of resistance, previously categor-
ised as heresy. Thus the Lollards of the fifteenth century were claimed
as the forerunners of Luther and the Reformation. With the help of
Matthew Parker, the second edition, published in 1570, became an

even more remarkable and lengthy work, which traced the
Reformation from its proto-inception in the reign of Edward III
(1312–1377) to the recent persecution under Mary I, and was prefixed
with a full and detailed history of Medieval Christianity.
The second edition was therefore part of a wider collaborative
effort centred on the household of Archbishop Parker. Parker made it
his business to right the wrong committed during the dissolution of the
monasteries in the 1530s and 1540s.7 The extensive and often ancient
and unique contents of the monastic libraries had been turned out with
little care or interest. From the early 1560s until his death in 1575
Parker gathered these manuscripts into his household, interrogated
them for examples of papal decadence and corruption, and produced
various publications that supported his findings. The first result of
these efforts was A Testimonie of Antiquitie published in 1566. This
publication contained a collection of church writings that had been
translated from Latin into vernacular English during the Anglo-Saxon
period. It incorporated Old English translations of the Lord’s Prayer,
the Creed and the Ten Commandments, but its star attraction was Æl-
fric’s Old English translation of an Easter Homily, which apparently
supported the reformist doctrine of transubstantiation and which Par-
ker claimed, through the comparison of manuscript copies, to reveal
an attempted erasure of the past by agents of the papacy.8 The purpose
of such a publication, in which Parker supplied the Old English text
alongside a contemporary English translation, was to counter the
claim of the ‘Romanistes’ that ‘their doctrine to haue co(n)tinued
many hundred yeares as it were lincked together with a continuall
chaine, wherof hath been no breche at any time’.9 Ælfric’s homily was
an ancient testimony that the evangelical belief in transubstantiation
had existed in the early years of the church and that Roman Catholic
doctrines such as substantiation were later novelties and corruptions.10
One year after A Testimonie of Antiquitie, Parker published Mat-
thew Paris’ Flores Historiarum, then in 1571 his Chronica Maiora.11
In 1574, Parker added Asser’s Life of Alfred (Ælfredi Regis res
Gestae), and Thomas Walsingham’s Historia Brevis and Ypodigma
Neustriae.12 These publications were intended to encourage a reinter-
pretation of history based on a variant textual basis. English history in
the sixteenth century had been largely reliant on Ranulf Higden’s
Polychronicon and on those histories that it had since inspired.13 This
was not necessarily a problem, since Higden’s history fulfilled a full
chronological range from Creation to the fourteenth century, and
provided a worldview of the past. Indeed, Higden had produced such a

detailed and scholarly compilation from older histories that for most
purposes it acted as a replacement for its own sources. Although many
of the earlier histories such as Bede’s Ecclesiastical History, Henry of
Huntingdon’s Historia Anglorum and William of Malmesbury’s Gesta
Regum Anglorum, were not entirely abandoned, others, like Matthew
Paris’ Chronica Maiora, fell into disuse.
By rehabilitating the chronicles from St Alban’s, Parker was able
to cover the same chronological and geographical space. The Flores
Historiarum extended from Creation to the year 1307, Matthew Paris’
Chronica Maiora covered in detail the period from William the
Conqueror in 1066 to about 1260, while the Historia Brevis continued
from the end of Matthew Paris up to 1422. Parker was providing the
basic tools for other like-minded scholars to make an argument and it
is almost certainly for this reason that Parker enlisted John Foxe and
encouraged him to produce a greatly expanded historical portion for
the second edition of his Acts and Monuments. Parker lent Foxe the
manuscript copy of the Chronica Maiora as well as various other texts
including the Flores Historiarum and Historia Brevis. The two texts
complemented one another and heightened the profile of Matthew
Paris as an historical resource.14 In the Acts and Monuments and in
Parker’s publications it was made clear that there was a relationship
between Matthew Paris and the other St Alban’s chroniclers. It was
recognised that large portions of the Flores Historiarum had derived
from the Chronica Maiora, whilst the Historia Brevis was recognised
by Parker and his household as a direct continuation of the Chronica
Maiora. Parker published these texts with the purpose of providing an
alternative and ‘Protestant’ historical narrative that could challenge
the standard histories of his day.
II
The nineteenth-century editors of Matthew Paris’ works, Frederic

Madden and Richard Luard, both criticised Matthew Parker’s editions
as inaccurate and distorted.15 This is, however, a misunderstanding of
Parker’s objective. The evangelical rehabilitation of the Chronica
Maiora was not an attempt at providing an accurate facsimile or even
a balanced comparison of variant readings. What Parker and Foxe
were doing when they appropriated Matthew Paris was to provide for
themselves and other scholars a ‘protestantised’ version, unblemished
by perceived disfigurements and corruptions but significantly decen-

tred from any neutral grounding. Theirs was a reformed interpretation
of Matthew Paris, one that selected material on the grounds of God’s
truth as forewarned in Scripture.16 Parker and Foxe claimed that the
Roman Catholic Church had hidden and disfigured the textual record
and had therefore blurred their ability to interpret the Scriptural
prophecies which had been intended to guide humanity safely through
the various rises and falls of the devil and Antichrist. So, when Foxe
came to consult Matthew Paris for his Acts and Monuments he was
doing so under the pretence of reversing the damage caused by the
‘blindness’ and ‘ignourance’ of England’s chroniclers and preachers.
In the second edition of his ecclesiastical history, Foxe followed
Matthew Paris with few exceptions for the reign of King Henry III
(1207–1272) from his coronation up to the year 1260 where the
chronicle ended.17 This was an important point in Foxe’s prophecy-
based patterning of English history. For the reign of King John, both
Foxe and previously Bale had attempted to rehabilitate his character
from ruthless dictator into a proto-Henry VIII figure who had attempt-
ed to take on the might of the papacy only to have his kingdom
interdicted and his person excommunicated. Where Henry had suc-
ceeded, John had failed, and this failure had resulted in the servitude
and imprisonment of England under the Papal Antichrist. Not only
was this a warning to his Elizabethan readers of what could happen if
another Mary Tudor came to the throne, but also a grandiose illustra-
tion of the brutal treatment that had resulted, and had been prophesied
in Scripture, of the Antichrist’s success in corrupting the Roman
Catholic Church.
The Chronica Maiora was a perfect source for this task. Foxe
rarely changed the words of the text when he translated them for his
history, but he was selective in his choice of passages and would often
embellish the translation with his own commentary. The character-
isation of the Papal Legate, Otto or Otho, who visited England in the
early years of Henry III’s reign, for example, was extracted from the
Chonica Maiora and forged into a portrait of papal greed, extortion
and infringement of English rights and customs.18 Upon his arrival in
the kingdom in 1237, which was according to Matthew Paris against
the wishes of the noblemen, ‘costly presents were offered … of
palfreys, handsome vessels, soft and double-wove garments, various
skins of wild beasts, money, meats, and liquors’.19 This Foxe followed
exactly, and also inserted from an earlier (and similar extract) that the
king ‘himself went as far as the seaside to receive, bowing down his
head in low curtsy to the Cardinals knees’.20 What he missed from the
account, however, is telling: ‘the legate moderated the Roman ava-
rice’, Matthew Paris had exclaimed, ‘and did not accept of all the
presents offered him; some, however, he received willingly, with a
benign countenance’, bearing in mind the philosophical remark of
Plato, ‘to receive all presents offered is greedy; to receive none is con-
tumacious; but to accept some is friendly’ (CM, III, 412-13; Giles, I,
68-69). Here Foxe is not simply ignoring inconvenient information but
performing a methodological interrogation of the Chronica Maiora
suited to his expectations of what the text should be saying. The belief
that even in Matthew Paris’ writings certain truths about the past had
been compromised, led Foxe to interrogate the ‘spirit’ of the
chronicle. Rather than extracting the actual meaning of the text, Foxe
imposed upon it his own interpretations and his own ideological
reasoning. Foxe accepted that the greed of papal nuncios was God’s
truth, and therefore the claim of moderation was seen as falsification
of the historical record.
In regard to the characterisation Matthew Paris gave to visiting
papal legates, the reformists had found what they could consider an
almost ‘uncorrupted’ account, which was something of a rare gift con-
sidering the ideological assumptions from which they interrogated the
medieval manuscripts. Legate Otto was one of many papal nuncios to
visit England during the reign of Henry III; when he departed in 1241,
Matthew Paris bemoaned that he left England ‘like a vineyard exposed
to every passer-by, and which the wild boar of the woods had laid
waste, and languished in a miserable state of desolation’ (CM, IV, 84;
Giles, I, 319). Almost without fail, Matthew described Legate Otto
and other visiting cardinals as ravagers of the church and of the land,
who made a mockery of English traditions and customs, connived to
undermine the authority of English barons to secure their own
authority as the King’s chief advisors, and scavenged the land for any
and all monies that they could possibly gather. From this vicious
characterisation of papal legates, Foxe was able to construct a power-
ful image of thirteenth-century England as a subdued land in thrall to
Rome.
A council which Legate Otto held at St Paul’s Cathedral in 1237
was extracted by Foxe as an example of Otto’s mocking of the English
bishops and of his extortion of money from the church. Foxe quoted
that the council was to be held to ‘redresse of matters concerning
benefices and religion’ but then added the caveat: ‘but the chiefe and
principall was to hunte for mony’ (A&M, 1563: Bk. 1, 115). This was
a tactic that Foxe often used to amplify the accusation that Otto was
primarily in England to pilfer money. Later in the same account, Foxe
wrote ‘insomuch that the king dreading the displeasures of his
commons for the doings of the Legate, willed him to repair home to
Rome again, but yet could not so be rid of him. For Otho receiving
new commandments from the Pope, applied his harvest still, gleaning
and raking whatsoever he might scrape’ (A&M, 1563: Bk. 1, 115).
Again, in a later description, Foxe exclaimed that the Pope had agreed
to Henry III’s request ‘not without some English money, ye may be
sure’ (A&M, 1563: Bk. 1, 366). These references were not explicit in
the Chronica Maiora, but nevertheless Foxe read into his source the
probability that the exchange of money had been involved.
When the council came together, Otto had built for himself ‘an
high and solemne throne’ raised ‘vp with a glorious scaffold’ (A&M,
1563: Bk. 1, 115). He then settled a dispute between the Archbishops
of York and Canterbury over who should sit on which side, as the
right side was traditionally the more authorial position. Otto used the
image of the cross with St Peter on the right and St Paul on the left,
stating that both were of equal glory. Whereas Foxe had earlier
ignored Matthew Paris’ suggestion that the Legate had refused some
of the gifts given to him out of modesty, he kept an equally
sententious compliment here for rhetorical effect. Matthew Paris had
commented that in settling this dispute Otto was ‘more to be
commended’. Foxe repeated this but then announced that once settled,
the Legate stood ‘aloft’ with an Archbishop obediently at either side.
In the margin, Foxe clarified for the reader his opinion of such a
scene: ‘Note the theme of the cardinal applied to God how he applieth
it to himselfe’ (A&M, 1563: Bk. 1, 115). Whilst providing an accurate
translation, Foxe had transformed a relatively innocent story into a
polemically charged character assassination of the legate, which he
would continue to amplify.
In another example, Matthew Paris had recounted how Legate
Otto had requested leave to enter Scotland where he had joined
Henry III at a meeting with Alexander II, King of Scotland (1198–
1249).21 Matthew had recorded that ‘on the legate’s expressing a wish
to go into the kingdom of Scotland, to examine into ecclesiastical
affairs there, as he had done in England the Scottish king replied “I do
not remember ever to have seen a legate in my territories, nor that it
has been necessary for one to be summoned there, thanks to God, and
there is not now any need of one, for all goes on well”’ (See CM, III,
413-14, 568; Giles, I, 69-70). Matthew also recorded that Alexander II
had warned the Legate that ‘ungovernable, wild men dwell there, who
thirst after human blood, and whom I myself cannot tame, and if they
were to attack you, I should be unable to restrain them’ (See CM, III,
413-14, 568; Giles, I, 69-70). At hearing this the Legate, it is claimed,
‘moderated his eager desire to enter Scotland’. When Foxe extracted
this account he added into it a more sinister and polemical character-
isation of Otto by announcing that ‘after the Cardinal heard the king
speak these words, he pluckt in his hornes, and durst proceed no
further’ (A&M, 1570: Bk. 4, 356). This was the only direct com-
parison made by Foxe between the devil and Otto but it was certainly
reminiscent of his other outbursts against the papal nuncio. Again,
Foxe extracted his material accurately, and had produced an almost
word-for-word translation of the text of Matthew Paris, but in the
process he had also added comments and extrapolated a different
emphasis, which modified the sense of the story that he was telling.
The Chronica Maiora was also used with similar polemical
intent for other aspects of history during the early years of Henry III’s
reign. When recounting the fall of Hubert de Burgh, Earl of Kent
(c.1170-1243) after the success of a plot concocted by Peter de
Roches, Bishop of Winchester (d. 1238), Foxe presented it as the
result of foreign (i.e. papal) theft of numerous English benefices,
much to the detriment of the country (A&M, 1570: Bk. 4, 358-60).
Foxe stated that through ‘violent extortion’ the Pope ‘had procured the
best benefices to be geuen to hys Romanes and the chief fruites of
them to be reserued to his owne cofers’. To this there was ‘no re-
dresse’, much to the ‘great greuance of the realme’ which ‘in somuch
that the wealth of this land was almost cleane suckte vp, and translated
to the court of Rome’ (A&M, 1570: Bk. 4, 358). The result was a
series of attacks against ‘these Italiane harpyes’ in which Peter de
Roches, himself a Frenchmen, managed to place the blame on the
English-born Hubert de Burgh. Although Foxe himself rarely indulged
in xenophobic remarks, his source, Matthew Paris, certainly did. The
conspiracy of foreigners, both Italian and French, against an English-
man, translated into the Acts and Monuments in the form of a
somewhat skewed account which placed the blame firmly on the
papacy.22
Another illuminating tale in the Acts and Monuments, which
Foxe derived from Matthew Paris, is that of the seventh Crusade.23
Foxe recounted in detail the story in the Chronica Maiora of how
King Louis IX of France (1214-1270) failed to capture the holy land
because the papacy was otherwise intent on dealing with worldly
domination and on futile bickering with Emperor Frederick II (1194-

1250). At first Matthew Paris held a certain ‘fascination’ for the em-
peror, believing that they were both victims of papal interference
(Vaughan 1958: 147-48). This admiration faltered, however, once
Frederick had been excommunicated at the Council of Lyons in 1245.
Foxe followed almost word-for-word much of the account. The
emperor had always ‘sought all meanes how to compasse the Popes
fauour, and neuer could obteine it’, while in contrast ‘this obstinate
rancour and deuilish malice of Pope Innocent, and his predecesour’
had made peace impossible (A&M, 1570, bk. 4, 370). Foxe extra-
polated these remarks from Matthew Paris’ text; however the form
and order of them in his own were quite different.
For most of this account Matthew Paris had spoken through the
speeches of others, a practice which Foxe did not generally follow.
Therefore, the account was stylistically reorganised. Foxe also joined
two accounts from the Chronica Maiora together to describe the re-
fusal of the Pope to Louis IX’s request for unity. He selected material
from both Matthew’s account of the Emperor’s excommunication at
the Council of Lyons in 1245 and then the actual account of Louis IX
leaving for Crusade in 1248.24 The combination allowed Foxe to insert
further evidence that the Pope would ‘not abyde’ any arbitration.
In general, Foxe had little reason to change or add much to these
remarks, except to introduce the idea that the contention had been
harmful to Christendom and that the fault lay with the papacy. Foxe
tells the same story, but inserts the idea that ‘the Emperour, which
could haue done most, was deposed by the Popes tyranny, wherby all
those Churches in Asia were left desolate’ and by such means ‘such a
fire of mischiefe was kindled against all Christendome, as yet to this
day can not be quenched’ (A&M, 1570, bk. 4, 372). The entire failure
of the crusade was blamed on the Pope’s preoccupation with another
Christian, which had resulted in the continued expansion of the
‘Turkish’ heathens and which in turn had threatened Europe so
severely in the sixteenth century.25 Although Matthew Paris hinted at
some of this, the interpretation was Foxe’s own. The link between the
Papal argument and the failure of the crusade are not made in the
Chronica Maiora. Instead, Matthew Paris blamed the failure of the
crusade on French greed; although Foxe did not entirely remove this
assertion from his own account, it had been marginalized in favour of
the wider discourse directed against the Roman Catholic Church.
III
The selective citation and glossing with which John Foxe handled
Matthew Paris was similarly carried out when he utilised his other
medieval sources. These were numerous but primarily included
chronicles by William of Malmesbury, Henry of Huntingdon, Roger
of Hoveden, John Brompton, Robert Fabian, Ranulph Higden and, of
course, Matthew of Westminster and Thomas Walsingham.26 Foxe
also relied heavily on John Bale’s Catalogus and Matthias Flacius
Illyricus’ Catalogus Testium Veritatis and on a host of short tracts
inserted almost verbatim. However, none of these texts are used to
quite the same extent as the Chronica Maiora, or with the same
accuracy. The early reign of Henry III was almost entirely lifted from
the pages of the greater chronicle, and Foxe clearly advertised the fact.
Foxe wanted his readers to know his source so that they could note the
accuracy with which he had translated and presented the material. He
specifically cited folio references to Parker’s manuscripts as proof that
he had indeed consulted the original copies and not simply borrowed
from the Archbishop’s soon-to-be-published edition. The power,
authority and ‘truth’ of his words lay within the manuscript; all Foxe
provided was a framework in which to shift God’s truth from the
perceived falsities and corruptions that he believed to have been
caused by the Antichrist’s work.
Foxe and Parker believed that the rehabilitation of disfavoured
chronicles was essential if they were to reveal God’s truth in English
history. Admittedly they were corrupted and deformed visions of that
past, and unquestionably, they could not be trusted in the context with
which they were originally endowed. Yet, with the implementation of
a specific methodological interrogation they could regain their weight
as authoritative voices for a newly reformed English church and its
congregation. Matthew Paris became the exemplum which proved the
point. Even though England’s history had been written by associates
of a defunct and ‘antichristian’ regime, Foxe and Parker proved that
they could still be of use and furthermore, that they could provide a
solid basis and defence of the Elizabethan religious settlement. There-
fore, the rehabilitation of Matthew Paris in the late sixteenth-century
reflects an attempt to resolve political, religious and ideological diffi-
culties at a specific moment in time.
Finally, to move beyond this Elizabethan context in which the
original purpose of these publications was satisfied, Matthew Paris
can be seen to have continued as an important historical text. Parker’s
published edition of the Chronica Maiora was republished with few

changes by William Wats (d. 1649) in the seventeenth century and this
remained the standard edition until the Rolls Series produced a new
transcription in the nineteenth century. The Acts and Monuments was
republished in full and in abridged versions throughout the next three
hundred years until Samuel Maitland (1792–1866) undermined its
central role in English historical and ecclesiastical scholarship in the
latter half of the nineteenth century (see Loades 2004). The original
manuscripts were securely held in the library of Corpus Christi
College, Cambridge, by Matthew Parker’s order and have remained
there till this day. The chronicle was also diffused through the
chronicles of John Stow and other later scholars, including William
Camden (1551–1623) and William Prynne (d. 1669).
The rehabilitation of the Chronica Maiora in the late sixteenth-
century is therefore an important moment in its transmission to the
twenty-first century; it imbued it with a particular conception of its
worth and of its ‘truth’, which is generally very different to modern
historiographical practices. The assumptions with which the text was
given authority were also specific to a particular group of scholars
undertaking an explicit interrogation of the text for a singular purpose:
the advertisement of the Elizabethan religious settlement. Foxe readily
admitted that his interrogation of sources was contentious in his own
times, even if he believed that his general methodology was sound and
unquestionable. In the fourth and final edition of the Acts and Monu-
ments Foxe wrote: ‘… in such a great conflict of religion, in such a
great variety of judgements, heads and thoughts, where each man
favours and promotes his own side, what can be so skilfully or cir-
cumspectly explained that it can please everyone?’27 Such a statement
illustrates the concern to interrogate historical texts within a particular
methodological framework. The characteristics of the Chronica Ma-
iora helped Foxe and other reformers to prove that their methodology
did indeed reflect God’s truth and that they were not producing a
revision of history, but rather returning it to its true and correct form.
Notes
1
General studies of sixteenth-century historiography include McKisack (1971), Levy
(1967), and Gransden (1982).
2
Most notably by Archbishop Matthew Parker in the preface to his edition of the
Chronica Maiora (London, 1571).
3
John Bale, Scriptorum Illustrium Majoris Brytanniae Catalogus (Basel, 1557-59), p.
315: ‘In quibus quorundam Romanorum pontificum auaritias, faraudes, mendacia,
dolos, pompas, impudentias, tyrannides, blasphemies, & artes pessimas ita depinxit, ut
nullus unqua[m] Apelles melius.’
4
It is notable that John Bale possibly never saw a copy of the larger chronicle and
instead relied on the Historia Anglorum in his own publications. However, Thomas S.
Freeman has made a case for Bale having written the account of King John in the
1563 edition of the Acts and Monuments, which does use the Chronica Maiora (1998:
175-223). This might suggest that Bale did gain access to the Chronica Maiora later
in his life, although this is yet to be proven.
5
There are too many publications on John Foxe and his Acts and Monuments to
adequately summarise here. However, the online John Foxe Project (The Variorum
Edition, which can be found at http://www.hrionline.shef.ac.uk/foxe/), has sought to
publish for the first time since the sixteenth century a complete transcription of the
four editions published in Foxe’s lifetime (1563, 1570, 1576, 1583), with an associ-
ated commentary. This project contains various articles which represent some of the
most up-to-date research on the Acts and Monuments as well as a searchable biblio-
graphy of research on the subject. All references to the Acts and Monuments (A&M)
will be to this edition. The references will always be to the earliest edition in which
the information appeared and unless stated otherwise will have appeared in all
subsequent editions up to the fourth edition of 1583.
6
Published by Matthew Parker as Matthaei Paris, monachi Albanensis, Angli, his-
toria maior à Guilielmo Conquaestore, ad vltimum annum Henrici tertij (London,
1571). The most recent publication of the Chronica Maiora is Luard’s edition
Matthaei Parisiensis, monachi Sancti Albani, Chronica Maiora (London, 1872-84).
Although the Chronica Maiora was the most important of Matthew Paris’ works for
Protestant reformers, it was not the only one to be printed. Matthew Parker also
published the Flores Historiarum in 1567 and 1570, now published as Flores
Historiarum, edited by Henry R. Luard (3 vols, Rolls Series, London, 1890), and
Thomas Walsingham’s Historia Brevis (London, 1574), now published as Thomas
Walsingham, Historia Anglicana, edited by H. T. Riley (2 vols, Rolls Series, London,
1863-64).
7
The activities of Archbishop Matthew Parker’s circle were first discussed by John
Strype (1711), and then by Wright (1953) and McKisack (1971: 26-49). More
recently Graham and Watson (1998) have analysed various lists and letters which
provide clear documentation of the circle’s activities. There are a variety of other
references that touch upon Parker’s work but the best general summary can be found
in Robinson (1998).
8
Parker’s accusation was based on a mutilated copy of the homily written part in
Latin and part in Old English from Worcester in which it was noted that ‘a fewe lynes,
wherin dyd consiste the chiefe poynte of the co(n)trouersie, be rased out by some
reader’ (Testimonie of Antiquitie, fol. 5r). Parker’s household had found another copy
all in Old English from the same library, and another copy in both English and Latin
in which they could ‘restore agayne, not onely the sense of the place rased in
Worceter booke, but also the very same Lattyn wordes’ (Testimonie of Antiquite, fol.
5v). For discussion of this publication, see Bromwich (1962) and Robinson (1998).
9
Matthew Parker, Testimonie of Antiquitie, fol. 18r.
10
For further details on this debate in the sixteenth century, see Wandel (2006).
11
Parker and his contemporaries did not recognise the Flores Historiarum as Matthew
Paris’ work, believing instead that it had been written by a fictional Matthew of
Westminster first identified, it would appear, by John Bale in his Catalogus, p. 473. In
the earlier edition, the Illustrium Maioris Britanniae Scriptorum (Wesel, 1548), fol.
143r, Bale referred to the author as Florilegus. Parker actually published the Flores
Historiarum twice under the name of Matthew of Westminster; once in 1567 and then
again in 1570. The first edition had been compiled from an original but imperfect
manuscript, which was soon realised to be inadequate for the task.
12
Parker also published in 1572 a history of the Archbishops of Canterbury, which he
intended as proof that he descended from an uninterrupted succession of Archbishops
and as a claim to Canterbury’s historical independence from Rome. This was the De
Antiquitate Britannicae Ecclesiae & priuilegiis ecclesiae Cantuariensis cum Archi-
episcopis eiusdem 70 (London, 1572).
13
For more details, see Taylor (1966).
14
These manuscripts are now CCCC MSS 16 and 26 (Chronica Maiora), possibly
British Museum, Cotton MS Claudius E.viii (Flores Historiarum), and probably
Arundel MS 7 (Historia Brevis). It is interesting to note that Foxe never referred to
Parker’s published editions of the chronicles. Admittedly, in 1570 only the Flores
Historiarum had been published. However it is unlikely that Foxe would not have
been aware of Parker’s forthcoming Chronica Maiora. How can we account for this
discrepancy? Maybe this signifies Foxe’s continued independence from Parker?
Perhaps Foxe felt that reference to an original manuscript provided more authority for
his statements than an edition printed for the express purpose of advertising the
Elizabethan religious settlement? Whereas Parker’s editions were open to criticism for
potential distortions, the original manuscripts were not. From further analysis of the
changes Foxe made to the text between editions, it would also appear that he was
extremely reluctant to change an account once completed. Even between the first and
second editions, where the pre-Reformation account was greatly enlarged, Foxe
tended to add a separate account of the same events or insert en bloc a new section at
the end of the original text. For instance, when Foxe came to enlarge his account of
Pope Gregory VII with letters written by Cardinal Benno, he inserted them in one
block whilst leaving the rest of the text unchanged. Compare A&M, 1563: Bk. 1, 20-
35, with A&M, 1570: Bk. 4, 225-35.
15
HM: I, xxxvii, and CM: I, ix. These opinions are of course reflective of nineteenth-
century scholarship and are no longer accepted today. For more details of these types
of remarks concerning Parker, see Robinson (1998: 1077-78).
16
For details on the reformist patterning of history through the means of prophetic
Scripture, see Firth (1979), Bauckham (1978), and Dawson (1994).
17
There are, however, exceptions such as the list proving the diversity of Monastic
Orders (A&M, 1570: Bk. 4, 338-90), the Albigensian crusade supported by a tract
entitled Jack Upland, which was ascribed inaccurately to Geoffrey Chaucer (A&M,
1570: Bk. 4, 340-45), and a large tract taken from Nicholas Cisner, De Frederico II.
Imp. Oratio (Strasburg, 1608) on the contentions between several popes and Emperor
Frederick II (A&M, 1570: Bk. 4, 373-97).
18
Surprisingly little is known about Otto. He was in England between 1237 and 1241
at a time of tension between Henry III and his barons. The reforms which he at-
tempted to bring into England were continued by various other papal nuncios. For
more details, see Williamson (1949).
19
CM, III, 412. The translation here is from Giles (1889: I, 68-69), a translation of the
Smaller Chronicle (Historia Anglorum), but which corresponds exactly to the account
in the Chronica Maiora.
20
Compare A&M, 1570: Bk. 4, 366, with CM, III, 395-96.
21
This meeting resulted in the signing of the Treaty of York between Henry III and
Alexander II of Scotland. The treaty defined the boundary between the two kingdoms,
Alexander II abandoning his traditional claims to Northumbria.
22
Compare A&M, 1570: Bk. 4, 358, with CM, III, 209-11. It is worth noting that this
particular account of Hubert de Burgh originated with Matthew Paris, who might have
gained firsthand information from Hubert himself. For more information see West
(2004; online edn, Jan 2008; accessed 27 Sept 2008).
23
Compare A&M, 1570: Bk. 4, 370r-72v, with several extracts from CM, IV, 397-
407, and V, 3-164.
24
Compare A&M, 1570, bk. 4, 370, with CM, IV, 406-7, and 22-23.
25
Foxe was certainly concerned with the Turkish threat and dealt with it in detail in a
lengthy tract (A&M, 1570: Bk. 6, 872-915). In this tract and elsewhere in the Acts and
Monuments, Foxe linked the Turks, as he had with the papacy, to the work of
Antichrist.
26
Work by Thomas S. Freeman as part of the John Foxe Project has begun on under-
standing Foxe’s medieval sources: The Variorum Edition. [online]. The complexities
of the task are revealed in several of his articles (Freeman 2004, 1998, 1999).
27
A&M, 1583, ‘John Foxe to the Learned Reader’ [Prefaces]. With thanks to John
Wade, University of Sheffield, who translated this passage from the Latin.
Bibliography
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–––. Illustrium Maioris Britanniae Scriptorum. Wesel, 1548.
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Sheffield, 2004). Available from http://www.hrionline.shef.ac.uk/foxe/ [Ac-
cessed: September 2008]. Referred to as A&M, followed by year of publication,
and book and page number in arabic.
[Paris, Matthew] Matthaei Parisiensis, monachi Sancti Albani, Chronica Maiora. 7
vols. Ed. Henry R. Luard. Rolls Series. London, 1872-84. Referred to as CM,
followed by volume number in roman and page number in arabic.
[–––] Matthaei Parisiensis, monachi Sancti Albani, Historia Anglorum, sive ut vulgo
dicitur, Historia Minor. 3 vols. Ed. Frederic Madden. Rolls Series. London,
1866-69. Referred to as HM, followed by volume number in roman and page
number in arabic
[–––] Matthew Paris’ English History from the year 1235 to 1273. Trans. J. A. Giles.
London, 1852-4. 3 vols.
[–––] Matthaei Paris, monachi Albanensis, Angli, historia maior à Guilielmo Con-
quaestore, ad vltimum annum Henrici tertij. Ed. Matthew Parker. London,
1571.
Bauckham, Richard (1978). Tudor Apocalypse: sixteenth-century apocalypticism,
millennarianism and the English Reformation: From John Bale to John Foxe
and Thomas Brightman. Oxford: The Sutton Courtenay Press.
Bromwich, John (1962). ‘The First Book Printed in Anglo-Saxon Types.’ Trans-
actions of the Cambridge Bibliographical Society III.4: 265-91.
Dawson, Jane E. A., ‘The Apocalyptic Thinking of the Marian Exiles.’ In Prophecy
and Eschatology. Ed. Michael Wilks. Studies in Church History: Subsidia. 10.
Woodbridge: Ecclesiastical History Society: 75-91.
Dickins, Bruce, and A. N. L. Munby, ed. (1953). Transactions of the Cambridge
Bibliographical Society, 1. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Firth, Katherine R. (1979). The Apocalyptic Tradition in Reformation Britain 1530-
1645. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Freeman, Thomas S. (1998). ‘John Bale’s Book of Martyrs?: The Account of King
John in Acts and Monuments.’ Reformation 3: 175-223.
––– (1999). ‘Texts, Lies, and Microfilm: Reading and Misreading Foxe’s “Book of
Martyrs”.’ The Sixteenth Century Journal 30: 23-46.
––– (2004). ‘“St Peter did not do thus”: Papal History in the Acts and Monuments.’
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[http://www.hrionline.ac.uk/johnfoxe/apparatus/introessays.html, accessed Sept
2008].
Giles, J. A. (1889). See Matthew Paris’ English History from the year 1235 to 1273.
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Early Elizabethan England; Documents by John Bale and John Joscelyn from
the circle of Matthew Parker. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Gransden, Antonia (1982). Historical Writing in England. II. c. 1307 to the Early
Sixteenth Century. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.
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Press.
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Variorum Edition.
[http://www.hrionline.ac.uk/johnfoxe/apparatus/introessays.html, accessed Sept
2008].
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Chronica Maiora.
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Historia Anglorum, sive ut vulgo dicitur, Historia Minor.
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sity Press.
Parker, Matthew, ed. (1571). See Matthaei Paris, monachi Albanensis, Angli, historia
maior à Guilielmo Conquaestore, ad vltimum annum Henrici tertij.
––– (1566). A testimonie of antiquitie shewing the auncient fayth in the Church of
England touching the sacrament of the body and bloude of the Lord here
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Anglo-Saxon Studies: Matthew Parker and his Circle, A Preliminary Study.’ In
Dickins and Munby (1953). Pp. 208-37.
RELIGIOUS CONTROVERSIES AND HISTORY WRITING
IN SIXTEENTH-CENTURY ENGLAND
Anna Seregina
Abstract
The article examines sixteenth-century English chronicles and their
use of religious polemics. It is focused on the ‘deposition stories’:
those of King John, Edward II and Richard II. It is shown that
historians during the Reformation changed the interpretations of the
images of medieval tyrant kings. Protestant controversialists saw the
deposed monarchs as ‘proto-martyrs’ of the ‘true Church’ or, at
least, as its members. There was no uniform reaction to Protestant
myth-making, as the ‘deposition stories’ reveal. King Richard II was
transformed into a ‘proto-Protestant’, an earnest if somewhat weak
supporter of Wycliffe, but in the case of King John such a metamor-
phosis did not take place, and the monarch was seen as a ‘victim of
the Prelates’. As for Edward II, the scandalous nature of his sins
prevented Protestant authors from using his story in their narratives
of the ‘true Church before Luther’.
The Reformation brought with it a driving interest in the foundations

of the Christian Church, coupled with an examination of the numerous
conflicts and accommodations between spiritual and secular powers.
All reformers, Catholic and Protestant alike, claimed a fidelity to the
ancient Church; consequently both factions searched for, and often
claimed, true origins in Christianity. By the sixteenth century polemic-
al texts with added historical disputes carried more weight than ever.
Medieval polemicists based their arguments on natural and divine law
using biblical citations, philosophical treatises and legal precedents as
proof. Historical facts were relegated to the lowest stratum of argu-
mentation.
During the Reformation historical arguments became prominent
in polemical texts because controversialists were interested in the
‘quality’ and the authenticity of their proofs. As a result they collected
old annals and researched chronicles in archives and libraries all over
the country, engaging in lengthy debates about their reliability. Re-
224 Anna Seregina
formation polemics in England focused on three ‘historical’ topoi: the

origins of the Christian Church in Britain, especially the story of
Christian conversion, the relationship between Church and crown,
and, lastly, the problem of succession.
The aim of this article is to examine sixteenth-century English
chronicles and their use of religious polemics. There has always been
mutual interaction between polemical texts and chronicles. For exam-
ple, pamphleteers borrowed and re-used historical material drawn
from chronicles. Their polemical works presented a new, reformed
version of national history which highlighted key episodes central to
their purpose. Then historians reacted to these new versions, either by
incorporating elements into their narratives, or by doubting their vera-
city. This is how Protestant history found its way into the chronicles.
My present focus is not the stories of Britain’s conversion to Christi-
anity, since they have recently been studied, but rather a fresh view of
some of what may be called ‘secular’ examples of English history.1
I shall analyse the ‘deposition stories’ presented in the sixteenth-
century English chronicles, and in particular the conflict between the
classic tyrant – King John – and his barons, which nearly ended in the
king’s deposition, and two further incidents where deposition in fact
did take place – the reigns of Edward II and Richard II.2
These episodes were usually interpreted as conflicts of a ruler
turned tyrant, who then acted against his own subjects. These cases
had serious constitutional consequences, since the matter at stake was
the limits of royal power and the right to resist a tyrannical ruler, taken
in conjunction with the rights of parliament. These instances also had
moral dimensions, because kings were punished grievously for their
sins. Furthermore, because they were unlucky, or not prudent enough
as politicians, they also lost their power. Therefore, the authors of
medieval chronicles would discuss moral issues associated with royal
authority and sometimes indulged in lamentations of fortune. I intend
to show how and to what extent the elements of these well-known
episodes changed in the sixteenth century when aspects of Protestant
mythology were incorporated into the historical narratives.3
In the medieval English tradition, King John represented the image of

a tyrannical ruler who oppressed his subjects, both laity and clergy
Religious Controversies and History Writing 225
alike, with unlawful taxation, unjust arrests and banishments. He did

not hesitate to kill his nephew, Duke Arthur of Brittany, by his own
hand, since the boy represented a rival to the Crown. Finally, John
was deemed an incompetent ruler and so lost his hereditary claim to
title in Normandy, which went instead to King Philip II of France. The
consequent rebellion of the barons and their invitation to Prince Louis
of France to act as king seemed to be therefore, if not entirely justi-
fied, at least understandable.
A new image of King John emerged in the Reformation, when he
came to represent proto-Protestant hero and martyr. This representa-
tion is found in the play King Johan by John Bale, Protestant historian
and controversialist. In Bale’s play, the failed monarch is transformed
and called ‘This noble Kynge Johan, as a faythfull Moses / Withstode
proude Pharao for his poore Israel’.4 Bale exploits other aspects of the
story – namely, John’s conflict with Rome over the appointment of a
new archbishop of Canterbury, the subsequent interdict and the sen-
tence of deposition pronounced by the Pope, Innocent III. Medieval
chroniclers saw John’s actions as a clear case of greed evidently illus-
trated by his desire to hold Church properties at his personal disposal.
Bale’s figure of John is depicted as trying to free the Church of Eng-
land from Roman superstition, and this attempt resulted in the King’s
death. The Pope and English prelates instigated a rebellion against the
‘lawful’ King John; later he was poisoned by a monk Simon, which
thus tranformed him into a figure of a Protestant martyr, or, at least,
anti-papal case.
The story of the King’s poisoning is rooted in medieval times.
Many chroniclers and historians (including Polydore Vergil) doubted
its veracity, yet Caxton picked it up and published it in his chronicle.
Most sixteenth-century authors learnt the story of King John and his
poisoning from Caxton’s text. The story goes as follows. In the au-
tumn of 1216 when King John was staying at Swineshead Abbey, one
of the monks there, Simon, decided to kill the King in revenge for the
crimes he committed against the clergy. The monk confessed to his
Abbot, who approved his decision, saying that it would be better for
one to perish than many. Then Simon offered the King some poisoned
food, but in order to remove the King’s suspicion, he shared the food
with him. Thus Simon’s actions were both murder and suicide, two
mortal sins committed with the connivance of the Abbot, who heard
the plot under the seal of confession. The story – however mythical –
was potentially damaging in the context of Reformation polemics,
226 Anna Seregina
since it could have been used to target monasteries and the sacrament
of confession. It comes as no surprise that it was turned to this end by
Bale (as we shall see). But casting the tyrant King John as a Protestant
hero proved difficult, even for Protestant authors. As a result, Tudor
historians were reluctant to accept Bale’s radical revision, and they
tended to view the conflict between the King and the Pope as the
significant event of the reign. The next century would focus on the
barons’ rebellion and the Magna Carta – the newly-discovered foun-
dation of the English legal system.
But the constitutional aspect was not of particular interest to the
sixteenth-century authors. An Epitome of Chronicles – a concise ‘uni-
versal chronicle’ started by Thomas Lanquet and continued (in fact,
written) by Thomas Cooper, a Protestant historian and lexicographer,
afterward bishop of Winchester, was published for the first time in
1549. Other editions (including the ‘pirated version’ by the Protestant
polemicist Robert Crowley) appeared in 1559, 1560 and 1565.5 In his
text, Cooper presented King John as the archetypal tyrant of medieval
texts, but his narrative had a Reformation twist:
King John of Englande beynge overset in warre by Phillyp of France
submitted him to the byshop of Rome by whom amonge other thinges
he was bounden, that as well he as his heires shuld ever after be feu-
daries to the see of Rome, and pay for yerely tribute 1000 markes, and
moreover to holde the title of the crowne by the byshops of Rome, here
may you see, that the bishops of Rome in theyr so often cursynges, did
not covet to reconcile the soules of men to god, but to subdue princes to
their tyranny, but this injunction was not kept anytyme by the kynges of
this realme. (EC 217)
Here we see the papal interdiction interpreted as yet another attempt

by Rome to put secular rulers under their control, thus increasing their
own power over the secular domain. This kind of Protestant criticism
of papal power had found its way into the pages of historical texts as
early as the mid-sixteenth century.
In Cooper’s version, however, the story of King John was turned
into a struggle against papal tyranny and a story of a king who failed
to do his duty. Unlike Bale, Cooper saw John not as a hero, but simply
as a poor ruler. John was a weak ruler not because he did not ‘use the
lawes of S. Edwards and ancient liberties’, but because he failed to
make a stand against papal abuses and to protect the Church of Eng-
land (EC 217). This chronicle is the first in which we find the following
characterization of King John:
Of personage he was indifferent, but of a melancolie and angrie counti-
naunce, he contemned the bishop of Romes auctoritee, whiche if he had
doen constantly with judgement, to the entent to take awaie super-
sticion, to refourme abuses, to pull downe idolatrie, to set up true
religion, to disannull his usurped power, as he semed to dooe for covet-
ousnes and of frowarde mynd, undoubtedly he had ben worthy high
commendacion. By his cowardise and slouthfull negligence the signorie
of England greatly decaied. (EC 217)
Thus Cooper’s image of John is a polemical reversal of Bale’s.

John was certainly not a hero; moreover, he actually falls short of
Protestant expectations. He fights Rome but for all the wrong reasons
– attempting to acquire the Church’s properties for himself – and, by
doing so, wastes his chance of becoming a truly great monarch who
cares for the spiritual well-being of his subjects and for the state of
affairs in the Church. John’s own failure turns him into a tyrant. He
deserves his punishment which comes meted out in the form of the
barons’ rebellion. Since King John was not a Protestant hero, Cooper
did not (need to) use the story of the poisoning. In fact, he does not
mention it at all. This characterization of King John is repeated word
for word in all editions of Cooper’s chronicle. It is also found in texts
by other authors, although often in and abridged form, in chronicles
published in the 1550-70s.
Thus A Briefe of Chronicles by the Protestant printer Thomas
Mychell (published at Canterbury in 1551) has the following passage:
This Kinge contemned the bishop of Romes aucthoryte whiche if he
had done of conscience and for religions sake, as he semed to do for
covetousnes, and of a frowarde mynde, undoubtedlye he had bene wor-
thy hygh commendacion. By his cowardnes and slouthful negligence
the signorie of Englande greatlye decayed. (A Briefe of Chronicles, no
page numbers)
This is drawn virtually verbatim from Cooper’s text with just two
words altered. Mychell mentions the poisoning of King John but does
not elaborate the story. And we find a similar version in the Abridge-
ment of the Chronicles of England (1563), composed by the Protestant
printer and writer Richard Grafton (Devereux 1990). Grafton uses the
same passage:
228 Anna Seregina
He contemned the Byshoppe of Romes authoritie more of covetousnes

and froward mynde, then in the suppressing of idolatrie and main-
tenance of true Religion. (p. 51)
The same phrasing is found in all editions of Grafton’s Abridge-

ment. The only exception would be the shorter version of his text, A
Manuall of the Chronicles of Englande (1565), which presents an
extremely short account of each reign and does not have the author’s
comments and characteristics.
We should note, however, that in his extensive work, a Chronicle
at Large (1568), Grafton tells a different story. In this Chronicle, King
John is presented not so much as a greedy tyrant, but rather as a prince
who deliberately placed himself in opposition to the Pope, who was
trying to usurp power. Grafton cites a letter from King John to Pope
Innocent III written at the height of the conflict over the nomination of
the archbishop of Canterbury, Stephen Langton. In the letter the King
said:
There shall be no such gadding nor coursing over anye more to Rome,
suffering the ryches of the lande anye more to be exported over, where-
by he should himselfe be the lesse able to withstand his enemies. … He
shall not neede to seeke for justice and judgements any farther abroad.
(Chronicle 106)
The letter was certainly intended to remind the reader of Royal

Supremacy as understood by Henry VIII and his daughter Elizabeth I.
King John is linked firmly to the ideas of the Reformation, for here the
King outlines a programme of reform, prohibiting appeals to Rome
and payment of first fruits, in addition of other ecclesiastical duties.
This statement claimed the independence of the Church of England
from Rome and placed it under the royal authority.
Grafton returns to a Protestant King John although his was a less
extreme version than that of Bale. The many failures of John as ruler,
especially his conflict with the barons which led to an open rebellion
against the monarchy, are explained as machinations of the Pope and
prelates: ‘Kingdom divided through the malice of clergy’ (Chronicle
111). The rebellion itself is turned into ‘treasons and conspiracies by
Prelates’ (Chronicle 112). Predictably, Grafton presents his readers
with the story of King John poisoned by the monk Simon. Grafton’s
assessment differs from the opinions of Cooper and Mychell. For him,
King John was ‘a mightie and valiant prince, but not fortunate as
many were’ (Chronicle 116). At the same time Grafton admits that
John ‘trusted more to foreigners’ and was an ‘oppressor to his owne’,

although that could be explained by numerous plots and rebellions
against him (read: by treacherous priests) (Chronicle 116).
In this version, John is not made out to be a tyrant, nor even a
particularly bad ruler, although certainly an unlucky one. If not quite
the hero we find in Bale, Grafton’s John definitely has some redeem-
ing features. First and most important is his stance against Roman
abuses. The other was the manner of his death: poisoned by the monk,
John had enough time to repent his sins, to admit numerous political
mistakes, and to admonish his son, Prince Henry, encouraging him to
be a just and merciful ruler. The repentance of John on his death-bed
seems to hint at the fact that he was a member of the invisible ‘true
Church’, which had existed before the onset of the Reformation. It
also points to the source which influenced Grafton’s Chronicle. This
was The Acts and Monuments by John Foxe, a sensational example of
polemical history which presented its audience with the reformed
version of the English past.6
Foxe did not go as far as Bale: his King John does not appear as
a hero. But he is certainly the victim of Innocent III, who is depicted
as the real villain of the story (judging by Foxe’s marginal comments).
The story of the interdict does not tell of King John violating the
rights and privileges of the clergy and extorting money, rather it
reiterates Roman abuses of the power to excommunicate. The reasons
for Innocent’s interference were ‘the pride and tirannie of the pope’,
who desired to subject all princes to his power (Foxe 327). Foxe
makes the clergy – ‘the Popes, prelates, monkes, chanons, priestes etc’
– responsible for the rebellion of the nobles against King John:
They began to travaile and practise with pope Innocent on the one side
and with the Frenche Kyng on the other side: beside subtle treasons,
which they wrought within the realm, and by their confessions in the
eare, wherby they both blinded the nobilitie and commons. (Foxe 327)
And later on: ‘… the whole realm miserably … divided into two
factions through malice of the clergy’ (Foxe 333). The same phrase is
found in Grafton’s Chronicle. When the nobles realized their mistake,
they decided to make peace with their King, who was subsequently
poisoned by the monk. Foxe goes into the details of the poisoning and
even provides a reader with a visual image: in editions 2, 3 and 4 there
is a woodcut telling the story of the death of King John (see the
Frontispiece).
230 Anna Seregina
So far King John looks less of tyrant than a victim of tyranny.

Foxe adds some anecdotal evidence to link the monarch even closer
with the protestant doctrine. Firstly, King John was not superstitious
in matters of religion. In Foxe’s words,
among over divers and sundry conditions belongyng to this kyng, one
there was which is not in hym to be reprehended, but commended
rather. For that beyng farre from the supersticion which kynges at that
tyme were commonly subiect unto. (Foxe 335)
Next follows an anecdote Foxe claims to be taken from the

Chronicle of Matthew of Westminster:
The kyng upon a tyme in his hunting, coming where a very fat stag was
cut uppe & opened … The kyng beholding the fatnes & the liking of the
stagge: see, sayth he, how easily and happely he hath lived, and yet for
all that he never heard anye masse. (Foxe 335)
What was man’s proof of ungodliness, Foxe turned into an argu-

ment for the King’s belonging to the true faith. Moreover, King John
dies a good death. Foxe actually uses a word ‘virtuous’ in his marginal
comment:
Upon his deathbed he much repented his former lyfe and forgave all
them with a pittifull hart, that had done him iniuring desyring that hys
elder sonne Henrue might be admonished by hys example, and to learne
by hys mysfortunes, to be naturall, favourable, gentle, and loving to his
native people. (Foxe 335)
Foxe creates the image of a weak ruler, a victim of clerical plotting,

who was still, at the same time, a pious and religious man. Foxe’s
John is not a model of kingship but rather an icon of admonition to
princes: even essentially godly people can fall prey to malicious
clergymen. Here the message is: watch out for Catholic traitors –
understandable it would seem in the context of Elizabethan religious
polemics.
Foxe’s story greatly influenced Grafton’s account. The same
could be said of the most popular of all sixteenth-century historical
texts – the Chronicles by Raphael Holinshed.7 His version, however,
differs from Foxe’s: here John is presented as more of a tyrant than
Foxe would have admitted. Holinshed was following the long-
established tradition when he mentioned the ‘King’s great crueltie &
unreasonable avarice towardes all estates’ as one of the main reasons
for the rebellion (CE 587). At the same time he followed Foxe in
stating that the other reason ‘was that the Pope and all the Prelates
were against the King’.
Holinshed’s account of John’s reign is more reserved: he would
not portray the King as pious, but as a weak ruler, who submitted to
the will of his enemies. For Holinshed, as for so many of his pre-
decessors, King John was a tyrant and an oppressor, so that rebellion
against him was to be expected, if not justified. But Holinshed’s John
was not entirely bad. As Foxe and Grafton before him, Holinshed
describes the manner of the King’s death by poisoning, followed by
repentance on his death-bed. He also mentioned that King John was
not without religious zeal: ‘He was no great friende to the Clergie …
he helde zeale to Religion as it was then accompted’ (CE 606). As
regards evidence, Holinshed points to religious houses founded or
sponsored by the King. He also attempts to demonstrate how John was
not as superstitious as his contemporaries, so he reproduces the story
of a stag from Foxe’s account (CE 607). Holinshed’s general assess-
ment was as follows:
To conclude it may seeme, that in some respectes he was not greately
superstitious, as yet not voyde of a religious zeale towardes the mayn-
tenance of the Cleargy, as by his bountifull liberalitie bestowed in
buyldyng of Abbeys and Churches it may partly appeare. (CE 607)
As one can see, Holinshed’s version of King John, which was to

become so popular, represents a mixture of two images – that of the
traditional King John, tyrant, with the Reformation King John, pious
Christian – who could demonstrate some understanding in matters of
religion but was hardly a competent ruler.
II
Edward II was portrayed differently, neither as proto-Protestant, nor a

victim of clerical strife, although the story of his reign has polemical
potential. It was the prelate, Adam Orleton, Bishop of Hereford who
was instrumental in deposing the King. Orleton was also involved in
Edward’s murder, as numerous medieval chronicles suggest.
Yet Edward II remained a weak ruler governed by lust and by his
greedy councillors who sought lands and preferment (Piers Gaveston,
Despensers). The majority of the sixteenth-century chronicles demon-
232 Anna Seregina
strated the same characteristic of Edward II which could be traced

back to Polydore’s Historia. The following passage was reproduced in
all chronicles with minor alterations that did not change its message. I
quote the longest version, which is to be found in John Stow’s Sum-
marie of Englyshe Chronicles (1565):
He was fayre of body, but unsteadfast of maners, and disposed to
lightnes. He refused the company of his Lordes, and men of honour and
hanted the company of villeins and vile persons. He gave hymselfe to
overmuch drinking, and lightly wold disclose thynges of great councell
and beside that he was given to these vices of nature: he was made
much worse by the council and familiarity of certain evil disposed
persons, as Piers of Galveston, Hugh Spencer and others, whose wanton
consaile he folowyng gave himself wholly to the appetite and pleasure
of the body, not regarding to govern his commune weale, by sadness,
discretion, and justice. Which thing caused first great variance between
him and his Lordes. So that shortly he became to his Lordes odible and
in the end was deposed from his Kingdom. (SEC 106)
Other authors characterized King Edward II in the same way.

Some of them, like Grafton, Foxe and Holinshed, probably used
Stow’s text but shortened it slightly so that there would be fewer or no
references to the sins of the flesh (Chronicle 193, Foxe 459, CE 883).
One could hardly doubt, however, that it was precisely the nature of
Edward’s sins, especially his homosexuality – always hinted at but
never mentioned explicitly – that proved to be too embarrassing to re-
interpretations of the story. Although first Foxe, and then Holinshed,
mentioned that by the end of his life the King repented his sins and
lived a good life, it did not redeem him completely. Holinshed was
probably the most indulgent author: he explained that whatever sins
and crimes Edward II committed as King, they all were repented and
atoned for by the patience and humility with which Edward bore his
misfortunes after his deposition, as well as by his cruel death (CE
883). Holinshed also mentioned that the King was considered to be a
saint by some of his subjects, since there were miracles thought to
have taken place at his tomb at Gloucester, but he dismissed the story
as commoners’ superstition (CE 883).
III
The case of Richard II shows a different pattern. He was a ruler who

had shown great abilities initially, but later on, being only young and
following advice from poorly chosen councillors, he turned tyrant.
Medieval authors agreed that Richard II was guilty of the murder of
his uncle, the Duke of Gloucester; the King also unjustly deprived
Londoners of their privileges and did not let his cousin, the earl of
Hereford (the future Henry IV), take possession of his father’s
inheritance (the Dukedom of Lancaster). Since he turned tyrant,
Richard II was rightly deposed by an act of Parliament, and abdicated
in favour of his cousin Hereford (Rosenstein 2004).
Yet Richard II was generally seen as a tragic figure. He is not the
villain of the story: this role belongs to his councillors. The King’s
guilt is alleviated (although not altogether excused) by his young age.
Here is a typical characteristic of Richard II to be found in most
sixteenth-century chronicles, their common source being Polidore
Vergil’s Historia. The citation is from Stow but it could also be found
in texts by Grafton and Hall as well as Cooper:
In beawty, bountie and liberalitie he farre passed all hys progenitours
but he was over muche geven to reste and quietness, and loved little
dedes of armes, and martial prowesse, and for that he was young, he
was moste ruled by young counsayle, and regarded nothing the adver-
tisements of the sage and wyse men of his Realme, for the chiefe about
hym were of no wysdome nor estimacion: whiche thynge tourned this
land to great trouble, and him selfe in fine to extreame miserie. (SEC
145)
Being young and impressionable Richard II erred in choosing his

councillors, who put personal interests above that of the Crown and
the Commonwealth. Perhaps Richard II would have improved with
age but he was not given a chance; his subjects were determined to get
rid of him. Fortune was against him, as Polydore had seemed to imply,
a comment then repeated by later chroniclers.
Thus Richard II seemed to be more unlucky than genuinely evil.
Even his sins (when listed fully they usually included adultery and
other ‘minor’ sins of the flesh) look excusable, or at least under-
standable, for such a young man. The fact that Richard II admitted
abuse of power, graciously accepting the judgment of the Common-
wealth by offering his abdication, shows he was not without dignity.
Therefore his murder – most chroniclers thought that the ex-King was
234 Anna Seregina
indeed murdered – could not be justified by any means. It was this

crime that made Henry IV suffer from numerous rebellions throughout
his reign.
To see how this classical tale of ‘good Prince gone astray’ has
been re-interpreted according to Protestant views, one must consult
Foxe. Here the figure of Richard II was re-invented. Foxe reiterated
the traditional reasons of rebellion against Richard II but refused to
state explicitly whether the rebellion was justified. He commented on
the King’s deposition in the following way:
The straunge and also lamentable deposing of thys Kyng Richard the 2
aforesaid, from hys Kingly sceptre. Straunge, for that the lyke example
hath not often ben seene in seates royall. Lamentable, for that can not
be but grevous to any good mans hart to see him eyther so to deserve, if
he wer justly deposed: or if he were injustfully deprived, to see the
kynglye title there not able to holde hys right, where by force, it is
compelled to geve place to might. (Foxe 612)
Foxe lists the same reasons for his subjects’ dissatisfaction: evil
councillors, injustice towards Londoners and the Earl of Hereford, and
the murder of the Duke of Gloucester (Foxe 613). But all those
reasons are secondary to the one which is viewed as the real cause of
Richard’s deposition:
He starting out of the steppes of hys progenitours, ceased to take parte
with them, whiche tooke part with the Gospell … as he beganne to
forsake the maintaining of the Gospell of God, so the Lord God began
to forsake hym. (Foxe 613)
Thus Richard’s guilt is religious in its nature, or more precisely,

he was punished for not caring enough for his subjects’ spiritual well-
being and not promoting the teaching of Wycliffe, the way his
grandfather and uncle had done.
Holinshed follows in the same vein: according to him, Richard II
neglected his duties as church patron, and his bishops were far from
being ideal pastors:
Such were preferred to Bishoprikes and other Ecclesiastical lyvyngs, as
neither could teache nor preache, nor knew anything of the scripture of
God … [given to the ] sinne of lecherie and fornication … the wrath of
God was dayly provoked to vengeance, for the sinnes of the prince and
his people. (CE 1117)
Thus Richard II was punished for not controlling his church, and
therefore for neglecting his duties first as a ruler. All his political
mistakes, even his crimes, come second to this main cause of his
deposition.
Conclusions
It is evident that historians during the Reformation changed the
interpretations of the images of medieval tyrant kings. The latter
found their place in the new Protestant history of the ‘true’ Church of
the elect. Protestant controversialists saw the deposed monarchs as
‘proto-martyrs’ of the ‘true Church’ or, at least, as its members. The
signs of their election were revealed in the tyrants’ full repentance,
and ‘good death’. It is no surprise that the mortal enemies of these
‘proto-Protestants’ were shown to be Catholic prelates who now were
portrayed as the main force behind the kings’ deposition.
There was no uniform reaction to Protestant myth-making, as the
‘deposition stories’ reveal. King Richard II was transformed into a
‘proto-Protestant’, an earnest if somewhat weak supporter of Wycliffe,
but in the case of King John such a metamorphosis did not take place.
Bale’s work notwithstanding, the ‘classical’ tyrant of English history
did not come to be a hero, since the ‘resistance’ of the older tradition
proved too strong. The most favourable interpretation of King John
would be that of a ‘victim of the prelates’. Unlike King John, King
Richard II was not uniformly seen as a tyrant by all chroniclers before
the Reformation, and it could explain the seemingly effortless
transformation of his image (Aston 1984: 282-84). The story of King
Edward II had some potential as it could be claimed that the King
repented, and atoned for his sins (by his horrible death). But the
scandalous nature of his sins prevented Protestant authors from using
the story of Edward II in their narratives of the ‘true Church before
Luther’.
The political message of the ‘depositions stories’ has also been
modified. Images of deposed kings had always been an admonition to
rulers. Now this admonition included a caveat that good and success-
ful rulers needed to pay close attention to their spiritual duties and to
take care of the state of affairs in the Church. The failure to do so
would cost them their crown and life. It was a powerful message in the
age when a Protestant queen was thought to be surrounded by Cath-
olic powers and facing numerous Catholic plots (inspired by priests)
within the country.
236 Anna Seregina
One author is missing from the present account – John Stow.

This omission is quite significant: Stow preferred not to use the
elements of Protestant polemics in his work. In the 1565 edition of the
Summarie of Englyshe Chronicles Stow briefly states that King John
rebelled against Rome for the wrong reasons, and uses the citation
from Cooper quoted above, but this passage disappeared from all later
editions of the Summarie and was not used in his Annales of 1592
(SEC 74). Stow did not give Foxe’s account in his narrative either. His
kings were conventional tyrants, not Reformation-style princes who
failed to exercise their royal supremacy.
What can be made of Stow’s silence on the matter which looks
like a deliberate avoidance of certain topics? There has been plenty of
speculation about Stow’s religion. He was called a church papist or a
Catholic sympathizer (see Wilson 1990, Archer 2004). Whatever the
case, he had no sympathy for the new, Protestant version of history. In
this way, Stow’s silence was perhaps his way of engaging in the
polemics of the age, when it would have been too dangerous to
question Foxe’s history openly (at least for somebody who, like Stow,
was suspected of being a crypto-Catholic). His readers knew what
episodes in particular could have been used to prove certain points in
the religious debate. Thus, the mere presence or absence of one
episode or another tells a story in itself. By not mentioning King
John’s Protestant credentials or Richard’s failure to promote Wycliffe,
Stow was passing a message to his audience that could hardly have
been misunderstood.
Notes
1
In what ways these chronicles and historical documents have been used, in particular
their re-interpretation in polemical texts, is an important focus of recent study. See,
for example, Heal (2005a and 2005b).
2
For a study of the new image of King Richard II as created by Protestant polemicists
and reproduced in historical texts, see Aston (1984).
3
The article is focused on the sixteenth-century English chronicles influenced by
Reformation controversies, i.e., the texts published in the 1540s and in later decades. I
do not intend to study medieval representations of the reigns of Kings John, Edward II
and Richard II: it is a topic that needs to be examined separately.
4
On John Bale and his influence on English chronicles, see Pineas (1962), Fairfield
(1999).
5
On short chronicles, see Beer (2004).
6
See Loades (1997, 1999, 2004), Highley and King (2001). For a detailed biblio-
graphy of Foxe, see the website of the John Foxe Project (University of Sheffield):
http://www.hrionline.ac.uk/johnfoxe/bibliography.html.
7
On Holinshed, see Patterson (1994). For a detailed bibliography, see the website of
the Holinshed Project (University of Oxford): http://www.cems.ox.ac.uk/holinshed/
bibliography.shtml.
Bibliography
Primary Printed Sources
John Bale. The Tragycall Historie of Kynge Johan. Ed. P. Collier. Camden Society,
1838.
John Foxe. The First Volume of the Ecclesiastical history Contayning the Actes and
Monumentes of Thynges passed […] in the Church of England. London, 1570.
Referred to as Foxe, followed by page number.
Richard Grafton. Abridgement of the Chronicles of England. London, 1563.
–––. A Chronicle at Large. London, 1568. Referred to as Chronicle, followed by page
number.
Raphael Holinshed. Chronicles of Englande. London, 1577. Referred to as CE,
followed by page number.
Thomas Lanquet, Thomas Cooper. An Epitome of Chronicles. London, 1559. Referred
to as EC, followed by page number.
Thomas Mychell. A Briefe of Chronicles. Canterbury, 1551.
John Stow. A Summarie of Englyshe Chronicles. London, 1565. Referred to as SEC,
followed by page number.
–––. Annales, or a Generale Chronicle of England from Brute until the present yeare
of Christ. London, 1592.
Secondary Literature
Archer, Ian W. (2004). ‘John Stow, Citizen and Historian.’ In John Stow (1525–1604)
and the Making of the English Past. Ed. I. A. Gadd and A. Gillespie. London:
British Library, 2004.
Aston, Margaret (1984). ‘King Richard II and the Wars of Roses.’ In ibid. Lollards
and Reformers. Images and Literacy in Late Medieval religion. London:
Hambledon Press, 1984. Pp. 273-315.
Beer, Barrett L. (2004). ‘English History Abridged: John Stow’s Shorter Chronicles
and Popular History.’ Albion 36: 12-24.
Betteridge, Thomas (1999). Tudor Histories of the English reformation, 1530-1583.
Aldershot: Ashgate.
Devereux, E. J. (1990). ‘Empty Tuns and Unfruitful Grafts: Richard Grafton’s
Historical Publications.’ Sixteenth Century Journal 21: 33-56.
Fairfield, Leslie P. (1976). John Bale, Mythmaker for the English Reformation. West
Lafayette: Purdue University Press.
Heal, Felicity (2005a). ‘Appropriating History: Protestant Polemics and the National
Past.’ Huntington Library Quarterly 68: 109-32.
––– (2005b). ‘What can King Lucius do for you? The Reformation and the Early
British Church.’ English Historical Review 120: 593-614.
238 Anna Seregina
Highley, Christopher, and John N. King, ed. (2001). John Foxe and His World.
Aldershot: Ashgate.
Loades, David M., ed. (1997). John Foxe and the English Reformation. Aldershot:
Scolar Press.
–––, ed. (1999). John Foxe – An Historical Perspective. Aldershot: Ashgate.
–––, ed. (2004). John Foxe at Home and Abroad. Aldershot: Ashgate.
Patterson, Annabel M. (1994). Reading Holinshed’s Chronicle. Chicago: University
of Chicago Press.
Pineas, R. (1962). ‘William Tynadale’s Influence on John Bale’s Polemical Use of
History.’ Archiv für Reformationsgeschichte 53: 79-96.
Rosenstein, R. (2004). ‘Richard the Redeless: representations of Richard II from
Boccaccio and Polydore to Holynshed and Shakespeare.’ In Travels and
Translations. Ed. Mike Pincombe. Aldershot: Ashgate. Pp. 137-50.
Wilson, J. (1990). ‘A catalogue of the “Unlawful” Books found in John Stow’s Study
on 21 February 1568/9.’ Recusant History 20: 1-30.
ARTHUR
A NEW CRITICAL EDITION OF THE FIFTEENTH-CENTURY
MIDDLE ENGLISH VERSE CHRONICLE
Marije Pots and Erik Kooper
The manuscript
The short Middle English verse chronicle that goes by the name of
Arthur has been preserved in a single parchment manuscript generally
known as Liber Rubeus Bathoniae (the Red Book of Bath).1 It is kept
in the library of Longleat House in Wiltshire, England, the ancestral
home of the marquesses of Bath, in whose possession it has been for
several centuries; it bears the shelfmark Longleat MS 55. It is not
exactly known for whom the codex was written, nor by whom. The
earliest date connected to the content of the codex is 1412, which is
found in one of the texts, an entry concerning the presentation of a
pillory in the city of Bath. The terminus ante quem is the year 1428, a
date that, according to Frederick Furnivall and Mildred Bryan, was
once given on the back cover of the manuscript (Furnivall 1869: v;
Bryan 1978: 4). Unfortunately, this date is no longer discernable, but
it could have been the date of the completion of the volume or of its
binding. Together these dates make the period of production of the
manuscript fairly exact. However, it should be noted that Arthur was
most probably not produced at the same time as the manuscript.
Scholars like Mildred Bryan, Robert W. Ackerman and Beate Schmol-
ke-Hasselmann agree that it was probably composed between 1350
and 1400.2
The manuscript’s place of origin is most probably Bath. Gisela
Guddat-Figge and Reginald Wright are of the opinion that the manu-
script may even have been compiled in Bath Cathedral Priory, roughly
around the time of John Tellesford, Prior of Bath from 1411 to 1425
(Wright 1956: 3). The language of Arthur is generally said to be pre-
dominantly southern with a few northern forms.3
Most information on its further history is provided within the ma-
nuscript itself. It apparently escaped the notice of King Henry VIII’s
commissioners at the time of the dissolution of the monasteries. Some
time after it came into the possession of John Parker, alderman of
Bath, and later it became the property of Thomas Guidott, a physician
240 Marije Pots and Erik Kooper
from the same city. Upon his death in 1703, he bequeathed it to

Thomas, viscount of Weymouth. From that time onwards the manu-
script has been at Longleat, home of the viscount and his descendants,
the marquesses of Bath. Most of this information was written in the
manuscript by a post-medieval owner or editor. It can be found in the
upper margin of fol. 1r.4 Elsewhere in the manuscript the names of
possibly even earlier owners are found: ‘Johannes Wyke de Trowl
jugge’ (judge, fol. 68r) and ‘Thomas burre, 1593’ (fol. 68v). Most of
the owners of the Liber Rubeus Bathoniae therefore are from Bath.
The connection with Bath can, however, be based on more than
its former owners, as the manuscript contains several texts which link
it to the city. Apart from the Latin one on the presentation of a pillory
in the market square, mentioned above, it contains a Middle English
verse ‘Life of St Katherine (of Alexandria)’,5 the city’s patron saint,
and on the last folio of the manuscript there is a ‘Vow of Fidelity’, in
which loyalty is sworn to the city’s mayor; finally, one of the shields
in the margin of Arthur depicts the arms of Bath.6
The binding has five supporting bands on the spine, wooden
boards covered with leather and copper bosses on each board, and a
rectangular cavity inside the upper board for storing balances. There
are three post-medieval flyleaves at the beginning and a medieval
flyleaf (with a drawing of a map, originally a pastedown) at the end of
the manuscript. On the upper board a typed note by N. R. Ker has
been glued which briefly describes the function of the manuscript: ‘No
doubt used as an oath book for jurors as it contains the sequentiae or
extracts from the four Gospels, …, which gave it the value of a gospel
book for this purpose’.7
The manuscript consists of two opening folios, a final folio
which originally functioned as a pastedown, and a main body of eight
quires: I of 6 bifolia, II-VI of 4 bifolia, VII of 6 bifolia and VIII of 2
bifolia, i.e. a total of ii+68+i folios (with I and VII including a stub).8
The text of the Latin chronicle runs from the middle of the fourth
quire to the middle of quire six (fols. 35v-53v), with Arthur straddling
quires five and six (fols. 42v-46r). The manuscript has been written
almost in its entirety by one copyist, in a clear cursiva anglicana with
Secretary admixtures, like the a without the top bowl, and the r
written on the line.9 The leaves are folio sized and on most of them the
corners of the main text block have been marked by prickings. The
layout of the page and the amount of written lines differ with each
text; in Arthur the number of lines per leaf is 41, but even here the text
space ranges from c.180x135 mm to c.200x140 mm, whereas the
width of a column ranges from c.66 to 80 mm. Apart from this, all of
the manuscript’s texts are justified on the left and right, and most are
written in one column. Arthur (no. 28), ‘The Life of St Katherine’ (no.
Arthur: A New Critical Edition 241
32) and the ‘Prognostications of the days of the week’ (no. 9) are,
however, written in two columns.
The verse form of Arthur is rhyming couplets, which in the
manuscript are connected by means of the habitual bracketing device.
In three places, for a sequence of four lines, the rhyme scheme is
different, abab, made visible again by bracketing.10 All three instances
occur rather early in the poem, and the last two just before a
Paternoster is called for (lines 89-92, 105-08, 291-94). But since no
crossed rhyme is used for the request to say a ‘Pater and Ave’ in lines
189-90, i.e. between the two invocations mentioned, nor in any place
later on in the poem, one gets the impression that the poet soon
dropped the alternative rhyme scheme as too complicated.
The poem and its immediate context
With regard to the Middle English texts it is noteworthy that both the
life of the patron saint of Bath and the life of Arthur are in this
language rather than in Latin or Anglo-Norman. Especially in the case
of Arthur, the choice of Middle English must have been a conscious
one. The text is incorporated in a drastically abridged Latin chronicle
of the Brut-type.11 Interestingly enough, the first part of the Latin
chronicle does not end with the death of Uther so as to leave the way
open for Arthur to discuss the new king’s life. On the contrary,
towards the end of fol. 41v of the Latin work a start is made with a
description of Arthur’s life. Arthur is crowned, he fights Cheldericus
who had come over from Germany to Scotland with 500 ships, at
which Arthur invokes the help of Hoel, and together they besiege
Cheldericus at Nottingham (and not Lincoln). After a futile attempt to
flee, Cheldericus surrenders and is allowed to sail home with his
soldiers. However, once at sea he decides to return; he lands at Tot-
ness, ravages the land and then besieges Bath. On hearing this Arthur
marches to Bath and in the ensuing battle many of Cheldericus’s army
are killed, thanks to Arthur’s mighty sword Caliburnus (a note in the
margin gives the English name: Brounsteell). But Cheldericus man-
ages to escape, and Arthur sends Cador after him, who pursued and
killed him, while he himself goes to Scotland to assist Hoel, who was
attacked by the Scots aided by the Irish king Gwillomarus. Arthur
defeats them and the Irish king flees back home. When Arthur intends
to execute all his opponents, prelates, nobles and others on their knees
make a plea to him to show mercy – which he does. He returns to
York for the winter and rewards his men, e.g. Walwynus. In other
texts Arthur at this point marries Guinevere, but unfortunately the
manuscript is so faded here that it cannot be deciphered.12 Since the
illegible part is at most a few words long, after which a paraph signals
a different topic (Arthur’s desire to conquer Ireland), it remains
questionable whether the marriage is mentioned. The last twelve lines

of the page are often partially or entirely illegible, but so much is clear
that Arthur, after his conquest of Ireland, Gotland and Iceland, returns
home and establishes the Round Table. The account of that is con-
cluded at the bottom of fol. 42r with a marginal drawing of the table,
with the legend Tabula Rotunda.
At the top of the next page, fol. 42v, Arthur begins. The scribe
seems to have decided that ‘Latin prose was no fit vehicle’ for
discussing the life of King Arthur (Furnivall 1869: v), and so it is
retold in Middle English and in verse from the beginning. As Bryan
has remarked, this ‘intrusion of an English poem in a Latin prose
chronicle is assuredly unexpected and strange, all the more so because
the reader is completely unprepared for the interruption’ and does not
expect to find a different work ‘which contains material already
covered in the chronicle’ (Bryan 1978: 19-20). A different view is
held by Ackerman, who thinks that ‘the writer functioned merely as a
copyist until he came to the Arthurian section, whereupon he was
inspired to translate the Latin text before him into English verse’
(1959: 484). If Ackerman is right, then the copyist-poet took con-
siderable liberties with his original, at least as far as we can judge
from the available section on Arthur in the Latin chronicle. To give an
example: while the poem spends ten lines on the begetting of Arthur
by Uther (lines 19-28), Arthur’s siege of Bath, for the poet a most
relevant topic one would think, is completely ignored.
As a look at the manuscript will reveal, the poem ends exactly at
the end of the second column of fol. 46r. After he has given the year
of Arthur’s death (AD 542), the poet adds a short prayer of five lines,
with a final evocation to say a Paternoster, and an address to the
reader in which he is directed to ‘the French book’ where he will find
things left out by the author.13 The epilogue ends with a promise that
the poet, God willing, will enumerate all the kings and their names,
and another reference to the French book for those who want to know
more about the kings’ deeds (‘gestes’).14 In this way the last column is
neatly filled to the end, and the Latin chronicle resumes on fol. 46v.
Its opening sentence reads: ‘Post Arthurum regnauit Constantinus,
filius Cador, Comitis Cornubie, nepos Arthuri; iste Constantinus inter-
fecit duos filios Mordredi spurios, qui moverunt bellum contra eum
propter patrem eorum’ (After Arthur reigned Constantine, son of
Cador, Earl of Cornwall, nephew of Arthur; this Constantine killed
two illegitimate sons of Mordred who waged war against him for the
sake of their father). In other words, here there is a seamless transition
from Arthur to the original chronicle’s narrative. The Latin text then
continues until the death of Richard II.
In the light of, on the one hand, the sudden change from Latin
prose to English verse, at a moment when the account of Arthur’s life
is well under way but has coincidentally reached the end of a page,
and, on the other, the smooth return to the content of the Latin
chronicle, Ackerman’s ‘simple explanation’ becomes attractive, even
if he necessarily must see the copyist as the poet, which would
conflict with the opinion of other scholars that the poem is older than
the manuscript (cf. n. 1 above). However, this poet-copyist incompat-
ibility is not insoluble if we assume that the copyist is not the poet of
the entire poem, but only of the last ten lines (from the final call for a
prayer). After copying over 600 lines of verse an addition of a mere
ten lines of his own should not be thought beyond the scribe’s power.
Unfortunately the various other texts in the manuscript re-
veal nothing about either the copyist’s or the poet’s identity. We
can establish, however, that the author has given his version of
Arthur’s life story an idiosyncratic twist in that he has inter-
spersed the narrative with calls for prayer, seven times to say a
Paternoster, twice an Ave Maria. These evocations are clearly
signalled by means of a paraph before and a red line under the
word Paternoster. Usually they are found when there is a break
in the story, i.e. when one episode has just finished and a new
one not yet started.15 The author prepares the audience for them
by means of short introductions of a few lines, which sometimes
connect to the story line, while at other times the close of an
adventure shades into the prayer. Because of these short
introductions, the audience is smoothly brought from adventure
mode to prayer mode, a transition which is further facilitated by
the fact that the author here directly addresses the audience, as
e.g. in lines 345-50, when Arthur has arrived at Barfleur in
France:
Ther he gan up furst aryve.
Now welle mote Arthour spede and thryve.
And þat hys saule spede þe better,
Lat eche man sey a Pater Noster.
¶ Pater Noster
Now God spede Arthour welle,
Hym ys comyng a nyw batelle.
The nature of these interruptions of the flow of the narrative leads to

the obvious conclusion that the author may well have been a member
of the clergy (e.g. Ackerman 1959: 484; Bryan 1977: 6).
On the question of the scribe’s, or his patron’s, intentions with
the manuscript or, more specifically, with Arthur, one can only specu-
late, but that there is a close connection with the city of Bath is clear.
Perhaps the patron even wanted to annex King Arthur as Bath’s own
hero, not an unlikely thought, considering that the king’s grave in
Glastonbury is not very far away. This may explain why not only the
Brut chronicle but also Arthur has been added to the manuscript: in
the Latin chronicle the siege of Bath is described (with underlining of
the name), and in Arthur Ungent, the Earl of Bath, is one of the
thirteen earls in the unnecessarily long list of guests at Arthur’s feast
at Carlyoun.
If the intention had been to reach a wider public with Arthur –
after all, ‘anglicisation often meant popularization, adaptation to a
new audience of less sophisticated tastes’ (Burnley 1989: 42) – this
would still have been an exclusive audience, an audience chosen by
the owner of the manuscript. Whereas due to the nature of the major-
ity of the texts the manuscript probably functioned as a manual to be
used by magistrates or court officials, some of the texts may have had
a somewhat different function. It is possible that the ‘Life of St Kath-
erine’ or the relatively short verse chronicle Arthur were read aloud to
guests of the city as entertainment. If so, its appearance in a utilitarian
manuscript is not particularly strange, especially when one considers
that in the fifteenth century historiographical texts, such as the Middle
English Brut, ‘increasingly appealed to a mercantile audience’
(Matheson 1998: 13). It would make Arthur’s appearance in the com-
mercial Liber Rubeus Bathoniae less inappropriate than it may have
seemed at first.
Source
In a brief note published fifty years ago John Finlayson compared a
number of passages in Arthur with the corresponding ones in Geoffrey
of Monmouth’s Historia, Wace’s Roman de Brut and Layamon’s
Brut. His conclusion is that the poem was ‘based … on some version
of Wace …, possibly extended’ but no longer extant, an opinion
which Bryan calls ‘the final one on the matter, [which] will stand until
some new evidence comes to light’ (1977: 19). And this is exactly
what has happened with the publication of The Oldest Anglo-Norman
Prose Brut Chronicle by Julia Marvin in 2006. It would seem that
Arthur is much closer to this text than to any of the known Wace
versions.16
Note on the edition

The text has been printed as it is found in the manuscript, including
the underlining of certain words, except that capitalisation, punct-
uation and word division have been made to accord to modern
practice. Abbreviations have been expanded and the spellings of i/j
and u/v regularized. The Middle English alphabet had two symbols
which since have disappeared: thorn (þ) and yogh (h). Thorn cor-
responds to Modern English th, yogh represents a number of different
sounds and spellings in Modern English: hut, ‘yet’, haf, ‘gave’ (pro-
nounced yaf), knyht, ‘knight’. Beside this the sign is occasionally used
instead of the plural -s, as in lordeh, or to represent the French -z, as in
sanh fayl, ‘certainly’.
Notes
1
The text has been edited twice before, in 1869 by F. J. Furnivall and in 1978 by
Mildred Willingham Bryan. Furnivall’s edition is now available on the internet as part
of the Gutenberg Project (http://fliiby.com/file/203327/gd94xggb5u.html), but it lacks
a satisfactory introduction, explanatory notes and glossary. Bryan’s dissertation was
never formally published. We are grateful to Ad Putter for discussing with us a num-
ber of issues regarding the present edition.
2
See Bryan (1978: 5), Ackerman (1959: 484), Schmolke-Hasselmann (1980: 57).
Bryan also discusses the dating proposed by nineteenth-century German scholars.
3
Furnivall (1869: vi); Bryan argues this much more elaborately and calls the language
‘basically Southern, specifically South-Western’ (1978: 11). This southwestern nature
of the dialect was further defined as ‘Somerset’ in LALME. Vol. 1. 137. ‘Main hand of
English items.’ LP 5280.
4
‘Hunc librum Tho. Guidot M.D. Bathoniensis D. Tho. Vicecomiti Weymouth mo-
riens legavit A.D. 1703. This book is cited by Mr. William Burton [1609-1657] in his
Commentary on Antoninus’s Itinerary (p. 2, 62) by ye name of Ruber Codex Bathonie
then in the possession of John Parker Alderman of Bath’ (fol. 1r; cp. Wright 1956: 4).
5
See d’Evelyn and Foster (1970), no. 157, and NIMEV 3205.
6
For more extensive descriptions of the manuscript and its contents, see Pots (2007:
16-53, 99-110), and Guddat-Figge (1976: 232-35).
7
This opinion is shared by Bryan (1978: 3) and Harris (2000: 237).
8
The collation given by Guddat-Figge (I of 5 bifolia, II-VI of 4 bifolia, VII of 8
bifolia, on a total of 69 folia: iv+64+i) seems to be inconsistent with some of the
signatures and catchwords (Guddat-Figge 1976: 232).
9
Only the first two folios are in a different and probably later hand.
10
In the edition the lines have been slightly indented.
11
Unlike most Brut texts, it opens with the arrival of Brutus in Britain: ‘Brutus post
destruccionem magne Troie veniens in Insulam tunc nominatam Albion…’ (After the
destruction of great Troy Brutus, coming to the Island then called Albion…).
Although Arthur is part of the larger chronicle, its different layout and language
justify that it is looked upon as a separate text.
12
The same holds for the marginal gloss.
13
The French book referred to here is probably a version of the Anglo-Norman Prose
Brut (see also n. 16 below).
14
This reference to a French source conflicts with Ackerman’s contention that the
poem is a translation from the surrounding Latin chronicle.
15
Three times such a paraph occurs without the evocation to say a Paternoster, in a
line of white: at the end of the introductory passage (after line 18), at the end of the
letter by the emperor Lucius (line 232), and at the supposed end of the letter by Arthur
(line 264).
16
Erik Kooper will argue this point in a separate article.
Bibliography
Manuscript
Liber Rubeus Bathoniae (Longleat MS 55).
Primary sources
Bryan, Mildred Willingham, ed. (1978). ‘A Critical Edition and Verse Translation of
Arthur.’ Unpublished PhD-Thesis. University of Alabama.
Furnivall, F. J., ed. (1869). Arthur. 2nd edn. Early English Text Society, Original
Series 2. 1869. London.
Marvin, Julia, ed. and trans. (2006). The Oldest Anglo-Norman Prose Brut Chronicle.
Medieval Chronicles 4. Woodbridge: The Boydell Press.
Pots, Marije, ed. (2007). ‘Re-evaluating King Arthur. A New Critical Edition of the
Fifteenth-Century Middle English Chronicle Arthur.’ Unpublished MPhil-
Thesis. Utrecht University.
Ackerman, Robert W. (1959). ‘English Rimed and Prose Romances.’ Arthurian
Literature in the Middle Ages: a Collaborative History. Ed. Roger Sherman
Loomis. Oxford: UP. 480-519.
Burnley, J. D. (1989). ‘Late Medieval English Translation: Types and Reflections.’ In
The Medieval Translator: The Theory and Practice of Translation in the Middle
Ages. Ed. Roger Ellis. Cambridge: Brewer. 37-53.
d’Evelyn, Charlotte, and Frances A Foster (1970). ‘Saints’ Legends.’ Chapter V of the
Manual. Pp. 410-457, 556-649.
Finlayson, John (1960). ‘The Source of “Arthur”, an Early Fifteenth-Century Verse
Chronicle. ’ Notes and Queries 205: 46-47.
Guddat-Figge, Gisela (1976). Catalogue of Manuscripts Containing Middle English
Romances. München: Wilhelm Fink.
Harris, Kate (2000). ‘An Augustan Episode in the History of the Collection of
Medieval Manuscripts at Longleat House.’ The English Medieval Book: Studies
in Memory of Jeremy Griffiths. Ed. A. S. G. Edwards, Vincent Gillespie and
Ralph Hanna. London: British Library. 233-47.
[LALME] A Linguistic Atlas of Late Mediaeval English. Ed. Angus McIntosh, M. L.
Samuels and Michael Benskin. Aberdeen: UP, 1986.
[Manual] A Manual of the Writings in Middle English 1050-1500. vol. 2. Gen. ed. J.
Burke Severs. Connecticut Academy of Arts and Sciences, 1967-.
Matheson, Lister M. (1998). The Prose Brut: The Development of a Middle English
Chronicle. Tempe, Arizona: Medieval and Renaissance Texts & Studies.
[NIMEV] A New Index of Middle English Verse. Ed. Julia Boffey and A. S. G. Ed-
wards. London: British Library, 2005.
Schmolke-Hasselmann, Beate (1980). Der arthurische Versroman von Chrestien bis
Froissart: Zur Geschichte einer Gattung. Tübingen: Niemeyer.
Wright, Reginald W. M. The Red Book of Bath c. 1412-1428. Manuscript description,
four leaves, 1956. Information taken from two typed sheets put inside the
manuscript. On the first two leaves the contents of the manuscript are listed and
on the final two leaves the manuscript itself is discussed. This description was
used for the Exhibition of Bath Abbey Through a Thousand Years (1956).
ARTHUR
Herkeneþ þat loveþ honour1 hear

Of Kyng Arthour and hys labour, about; activities
And furst how he was bygete, begotten
As þat we in bokes do rede.2 as
5 Uther Pendragoun was hys fader,
And Ygerne was hys moder.
Pendragoun ys in Walysche
Dragones heed on Englysche. head
He maked ypeynted dragouns two:3 had; painted
10 Oon scold byfore hym goo4 should
Whan he went to batayle,
Whan he wold hys foes sayle. attack
That other abood at Wynchester, stayed
Ever more stylle there. for ever
15 Bretones haf hym þat name, gave
Uther Pendragoun þe same,
For þat skyle, fer and nere, with the purpose; everywhere
Ever more hyt to bere.5
¶
The erles wyff of Cornewayle
20 He loved to muche, sanh fayle. certainly
Merlyn wyþ hys sotelnesse skill
Turned Utheris lyknesse, changed; outward appearance
And maked hym lyche þe erl anone like; at once
And wyþ hys wyff hys wylle to done. do
25 In þe countre of Cornewelle,
In þe castel of Tyntagelle,
Thus Uther, yf Y schalle nat lye, I; lie
Bygat Arthour in avowtrye. begot; adultery
Whan Uther Pendragoun was deed,
30 Arthour anon was ycrowned.
He was courteys, large and gent generous; graceful
1
The first letter of the text is a two-line ‘H’ written in red ink.
2
þat: written over an erasure. bokes: F bokis.
3
The dragons are painted on banners.
4
scold: written over an erasure in the text. In left margin: schold.
5
After this line there is one without any text and with only a paraph and some hori-
zontal scrolls, apparently to mark the end of the introduction.
To alle puple, verrament; truly

Beaute, myht, amiable chere power; behaviour
To alle men ferre and neere,
35 Hys port, hys hyftes gentylle, manner; gifts
Maked hym yloved wylle. well
Ech man was glad of hys presence6 enjoyed
And drade to do hym dysplesaunce. feared; annoy
A stronger man of hys honde more powerful [than he]
40 Was never founde on any londe,
As courteys as any mayde. well-mannered
Þus wryteþ of hym þat hym asayde. tested
At Cayrlyoun, wythoute fable, truly
He let make þe Rounde Table.
45 And why þat he maked hyt þus,
Þis was þe resoun, ywyss: certainly
Þat no man schulde sytt above other, another
Ne have indignacioun of hys broþer, become angry with
And alle hadde oo servyse, were served in the same way
50 For no pryde scholde aryse
For any degree of syttynge hierarchy; seating
Oþer for any servynge. manner of serving [at table]
Þus he kept þe Table Rounde
Whyle he levyd on þe grounde. lived in this world
55 After he hadde conquered Skotlond,
Yrland and Gotland,
Than levyd he at þe best7
Twelf heeris on alle reste, years; at peace
Wyþoute werre, tylle at þe laste war
60 He þowht to make a nywe conqueste.8 considered; new
Into Fraunce wyþ gode counceyle after due consideration
He wolde weende and hyt assayle, would go
Þat Rome þo kept under myght then; control
Under Frollo, a worthy knight,
65 Þat Fraunce hadde þo to kepe, guard
To rywle, defende and to lede. rule
Arthour and Frollo fowht in feld; fought
Þere deyde many under scheld. died
Frollo into Paryss fly, fled
6
MS: man; F: mon.
7
MS: than; F: þan.
8
MS: þowht; F: þouht.
70 Wyth strenkthe kept hyt wysely. defended; capably

Arthour byseged þat cyte and town9 besieged
Tylle þeire vytayl was ydoon. till; provisions; finished
Frollo, þat worthy knyght,
Proferyd wyth Arthour for to fyght proposed
75 Under þis wyse and condicioun:10
Ho hadde þe maystrie have þe crown, who; upper hand
And no mo men but þey two.11 more
Þe day was sett, togedere þey go. at each other
Fayr hyt was to byholde
80 In suche two knyhghteh bolde. at two such
Þer was no word yspoke, spoken
But eche hadde other by þe þrote. each; throat
Þey smote wyth trounchoun and wyth swerd; cudgel; sword
Þat hyt seye were aferd.12
85 Frollo fowht wyþ hys ax, as men dude se.13 fought; saw
He hytt Arthour so sore þat he felle on kne. hit; sorely
He ros up raþly and smot hym fulle sore; 14 quickly; very fiercely
He dude hym to grent a soueh þerfore. made; groan; moan
Thus they hyw on helmes hye, hewed at; strong
90 And schatered on wyþ scheldes. struck against
Þe puple bygan to crye,
Þat stood on þe feldes.
Ther ne wyst no man, as Y can lere, knew; as far as; find out
Who of ham two was þe bettere þere. them
95 Arthour was chafed and wexed wrothe, provoked; became
He hente Brounsteelle and to Frollo gothe.15 seized
Brounstelle was hevy and also kene;16 sharp-edged
9
MS: Cyte; F: Syte.
10
Trans.: In the following way and under these conditions.
11
75-76 Furnivall interprets these lines as being said by Frollo, and thus places them
between quotation marks.
12
Trans.: Those who saw it were filled with fear.
13
Tironian et erased after fowht.
14
In this passage Frollo hits Arthur so fiercely with his axe that Arthur falls down on
his knees, but he [=Arthur] quickly gets up and strikes Frollo.
15
Brownsteel appears to be the author’s translation of Caliburnus, the name written
above the illustration of the sword (see n.16). According to the MED, brown or broun,
when used in reference to steel or weapons, means: ‘shining, polished, bright’.
16
In right margin: horizontal sketch of a sword in red. Above the shaft, in red:
Caliburnus Arthuri Gladius (‘Caliburnus Arthur’s sword’). The drawing, extending
over the width of an entire column, precluded the possibility of the usual second
Fram þe schulder to þe syde went bytwene between

Off Frollo, and þan he fell to þe grounde,
100 Ryht as he moste: deed in lyte stounde. had to; instant
Frensche men made doelle and wept fulle faste; mourned; terribly
Þeir crowne of Fraunce þere þey loste.17
Than wente Arthour into Paryse
And toke þe castelle and þe town at hys avyse. unconditionally
105 Worschuped be God of hys grete grace praised; for
Þat þus heveþ fortune and worschup to þe reme. honour; realm
Thanke he hym alle þat beþ on þis place, you; are; in
And seyeþ a Pater Noster wythout any beeme. quietly
¶ Pater Noster 18
Arthour fram Paryse went wyth hys rowte, host
110 And conquered þe countre on every syde aboute: in its entirety
Angeoy, Peytow, Berry and Gaskoyne, Anjou; Poitou
Naverne, Burgoun, Loreyn and Toreyne.19
He daunted þe proude and hawted þe poure, subdued; exalted
He dwelt long in Paryss after in honoure.
115 He was drad and loved in countreis abowte, feared
Heyest and lowest hym loved and alowte.20 praised; submitted
And upon an Estour tyme, sone afterward, Easter
He fested hys knyghtes and haf ham gret reward:21
To hys styward he haf Angers and Aungeye, Anjou
120 To Bedewer, hys botyler, he haf Normandye. cupbearer
He haf to Holdyne Flaundrys, parde, indeed
To Borel, hys cosyn, Boloyne, þe cyte. Boulogne
column of text on this page. In the part of the Latin chronicle immediately preceding
Arthur we learn that Arthur used his sword Caliburnus in the fight with Cheldericus
during the siege of Bath. Here a marginal gloss gives the translation Brounsteell.
17
of: inserted (with caret) between crowne and Fraunce.
18
John Scattergood points out (private communication) an interesting parallel with
the liturgy of the Mass. During the service there are several moments when the priest
invites the congregation to pray (‘oremus’). As in the case of Arthur the first
time, after the Kyrie and Gloria, is an invocation to silent prayer (but silent prayer is
possible at later moments as well, e.g. after Communion).
Unlike the first letter of each line of verse, the capital P of Pater Noster in the
inbetween lines is never touched up with a stroke of red ink.
19
Navarre, Burgundy, Lorraine, Touraine.
20
Trans.: The highest and the lowest praised him and submitted to him. et: inserted
(with caret) between loved and alowte.
21
MS knyghtes; F: knyghtis. Trans.: He entertained his knights and gave them great
rewards.
And eche man after þe astat þat he was; rank

He rewarded hem alle, boþe more and lasse,
125 And haf hem reward, boþe lond and fee, movable property
And turned to Breteyn, to Carlyoun ayhe. again
Arthour wolde of honour for the sake of honour
Hold a fest at Eestour, Easter
Of regalye and worthynesse, splendour; excellence
130 And feede alle hys frendess;
And sende messanger [he] sent
To kynges ferre and neer
Þat were to hym omager, vassal
To come to þis dyner.
135 And alle at oo certeyn day one
They come þyder in gode aray, to that place; in proper order
And kept þeire cesoun assembly
At þe castelle Cayrlyoun.22
Thys fest was muche moore
140 Þan evere Arthour made afore, 23 before
For þere was Urweyn, þe Kynge
Of Scottes, at þat dynynge, dinner
Stater, þe Kyng of Southwales,
Cadwelle, þe Kyng of Northwaleh,
145 Gwylmar, þe Kyng of Yrland,
Dolmad, þe Kyng of Guthland, Gotland
Malgan of Yselond also, Iceland
Archyl of Denmarch þerto, as well
Alothe, þe Kyng of Norwey,
150 Sovenas, þe Kyng of Orkenye,
Of Breteyn, þe Kyng Hoel, Brittany
Cador, Erl of Cornewelle,
Morice, þe Erl of Gloucestre,
Marran, Erl of Wynchestre,
155 Gwergound, Erl of Herford,
Booh, Erl of Oxenford,
Of Bathe, Ungent þe Erl also,
Cursal of Chestre þerto,
Everad, Erl of Salesbury,
22
MS: Cayrlyoun; F: Carlyoun.
23
With the following thirty-eight lines the narrative is interrupted by a long catalogue
of the guests who attend Arthur’s Easter feast. It is the only element in the story which
the author has not drastically shortened.
160 Kynmar, Erl of Canterbury,

Ionas, þe Erl of Dorcestre,
Valence, þe Erl of Sylchestre,
Ingeyn of Leycere þerto,24
Argal of Warwyk also.
165 Kynges and erles echon everyone
Þes were, and many anoþer goom, these; man
Gret of astaat and þe beste,
Þes were at þe feste.
Other also gentyls grete noblemen
170 Were þere at þat meete: feast
Saver appon Donand,25
Regeym and Alard,
Rayneh fith Colys, son of
Tadeus fith Reis,
175 Delyn fith David,
Kymbelyn le fith Gryffithe,
Gryffith, þe sone of Nagand,
Þes were þere also theoband.26
Alle þes were þere, wythoute fable, lying
180 Wythoute ham of þe Rounde Table. apart from
Thre archebusschopes þer were also,
And other busschopes many mo.
Alle þis mayne were nat aloone, company
Wyth ham com many a goome. man
185 Þis feste dured dayes þre lasted
In revelle and solempnite. revelry; grandeur
Of byhonde þe see also
Many lordeh were þere þo. then
Now resteþ alle wyþ me stay
190 And say a Pater and Ave. Ave Maria
¶ Pater Noster
The þrydde day folowyng
24
MS: Ingeyn of Leycere; F, B: Jugeyn of Leyccer.
25
According to Bryan appon (‘upon’) makes no sense in the context, and she there-
fore suggests that ap, ‘son of’, was meant (derived from Welsh map).
26
Furnivall was the first to suggest that theoband was ‘miswritten’ for theodand,
present participle of a verb deriving from Old English þeodan, ‘to join’ (for this
meaning, see MED s.v. theden). In spite of the fact that it occurs in no other Arthurian
story, Bryan thinks that Theoband is the name of one of the guests attending the
Easter feast.
There coom nywe tydynge.27 came; new; message

Þe whyle þey sete at þe mete while; sat; meal
Messagers were in ylete. showed in
195 Welle arayd forsoþe þey come, in fine condition; indeed
Ysend fram cite of Rome sent
Wyþ lettres of þe emperoures, emperor
Whas name was Lucies.28 whose
Þes lettres were opened and unfold,
200 And þe tydynges to alle men told, content
Whas sentence, yf Y ne lye, the meaning of which; not
Was, after þat Y can aspye: insofar as; make out
¶ ‘Lucius þe grete emperour,
To hys enemy Arthour:
205 We woundereþ of þe wodeness29 lunacy
And also of þy madnesse.
How darst þow any wyse dare you; in any way
Ahenst þe emperour þus aryse, against; rise
And ryde on remes on eche wey,30
210 And make kyngeh to þe obey?
Þu art wood on þe nolle! mad; head
Þu hast scley owre cosyn Frollo;31 kinsman; slain
Þu schalt be tawht at a schort day taught shortly
Forto make suche aray! not to show of; armed force
215 Oure cosyn Iulius Cesar
Sommetyme conquered þar; once ; there [i.e. your country]
To Rome þu owest hys trybut.
We chargeþ þe to paye us hyt.
Thy pryde we wolle alaye, subdue
220 Þat makest so gret aray.32
We commandeþ þe on haste quickly
To paye owre trybut faste. at once
Þu hast scley Frolle in Fraunce, slain
Þat hadde under us þere governaunce,
27
MS: there; F, B: then.
28
In right margin: Lucius.
29
MS: þe; F: þi, B: thy.
30
Trans.: And attack kingdoms in every direction.
31
This line is the end of the first column of text on this page. Below each column
there is a coat of arms plus captions. Left: Escu Du Baat, right: Escu De Rome.
Written under the latter in a later hand: SPQR senatus populusque Romanus.
32
Bryan argues that makest is grammatically incorrect and emends to maketh.
225 And wyþholdest oure tribute þerto; in addition to that

Þu schalt be tawht þu hast mysdo. acted wrongly
We commandeþ þe in haste soone, immediately
Þat þu come to us at Rome
To underfang oure ordynaunce be subjected to; judgement
230 For þy dysobediaunce,
As þu wolt nat lehe þy lyf.33 so that ; part with
Fulfylle þys wythoute stryff.’ comply with; contention
¶ ¶ ¶ ¶
¶ Whan þis lettre was open and rad, read
Þe Bretouns and alle men were mad angry
235 And wolde þe messager scle. wanted; kill
‘Nay,’ seyd Arthour, ‘perde, by God
That were ahenst alle kynde, nature
A messager to bete or bynde! beat
Y charge alle men here order
240 For to make ham good chere.’ treat them hospitably
And after mete, sanh fayl, dinner; certainly
Wyþ hys lordes he hadde counsayl council
And alle asented þerto: agreed
Arthour to Rome scholde go,
245 And þey ne wolde in hys travayle undertaking
Wyþ strenkþ and good never fayle. fighting force; goods
Than Arthour wroot to Rome a lettre,
Was sentence was sommwhat byttere,34 the tenor of which
And seyde in þis manere,
250 As he may hure here: you; hear
‘Knoweþ welle, he of Romayne,35 Roman Empire
Y am Kyng Arthour of Bretayne.
Fraunce, Y have conquered hyt;
Y schalle defende and kepe hyt hut. yet
255 Y come to Rome, as Y am tryw, trust me!
To take my trybut to me dywe, due
But noon þerefor to paye,
By my werk he schalle asay. conduct; experience
For þe Emperour Constantyne,
260 Þat was þe soone of Elyne,
Þat was a Bretoun of þis lond, [and] who
33
MS: wolt; F: wold.
34
MS: was; B whas.
35
In left margin a pointing hand (in red) and Litera regis Arthuri.
Conquered Rome wyth hys hond,

And so he oweþ me tribute.
Y charge how þat ye pay me hyt.36
¶
265 Also Maximian, Kyng of Bretaingne,
Conquered al Fraunce and Almayne37 Germany
Lombardye, Rome and Ytalye;
By houre bokes he may aspye.38 from; find out
Y am þeir eyr and þeyre lynage; heir; descendant
270 Y aske how my trywage.’ tribute
Þis lettre was celyd fast, sealed; quickly
Ytake þe messagereh on hast; taken [by]; in haste
Arthour haf ham hyfteh grete, gifts
And chered ham wyþ drynk and mete. entertained; food
275 Þey hasted ham to come hoom.
Byfor þe emperour þey beþ coom, have come
Saluted hym as resoun ys, as is proper
And toke hym þes letterys. [formal] letter
Þey seyde to þe emperour:
280 ‘We have be wyþ Kyng Arthour, been
But suche anoþer as he ys oon one
Say never no man. saw
He ys served on hys howshold in
Wyþ kynges, erles, worthy and bold. by
285 Hys worthynesse, Sur Emperour, splendour
Passeþ muche alle howre. completely; yours
He seyde he wolde hyder come,
And take trywage of alle Rome.
We dowteþ last he wol do soo, fear; that
290 For he ys myghty ynow þertoo.’ powerful; enough
Now erst þan we goo ferþer,39 first; before
Every man þat ys here
Sey a Pater Noster say
And Ave wyþ gode chere. cheerfully
¶ Pater Noster
36
Considering the underlining of this line, and the paragraph sign in the next, empty
line, one gets the impression that the scribe mistakenly assumed that the letter ended
here.
37
MS: coquered.
38
MS: bokes; F bokis.
39
291-94 The bracketing makes clear that the rhyme scheme is abab
Ave Maria
295 Now stureth hymself Arthour, gets into action
Þenkyng on hys labour, task
And gaderyþ to hym strenghth aboute, assembles; fighting force
Hys kynges and erles on a rowte. host
A fayr syht to mannes ye sight; eye
300 To see suche a chevalrye: body of mounted warriors
The kyng of Gotland,
Also þe kyng of Irland,
The kyng of Ysland and of Orkenye; Iceland
Þis was worthy maynye. company
305 The kyng of Denmark also was þere;
Þis was a worthy chere. person
Eche of þese vyve at her venyw five; their arrival
Brouht hyx þousand at har retenyw. six; command
Xxxti þowsand, ych understand,40 30,000; I
310 Þes vyf kynges hadde on honde.41 these; at their disposal
Than hadde he out of Normandye,
Of Angeoy and of Almanye, Germany
Boloyne, Peytow and Flaundres, Boulogne; Poitou
Fowre skore þowsand harneys. 4 x 20; men-at-arms
315 Geryn of Charteh xij þowsand, 12,000
Þat went wyþ Artour ever at honde. available
Hoel of Bretayn þowsandeh ten
Of hardy and welle fyghtyng men.
Out of Bretaygne, hys owne land,
320 He passed fourty þowsand moved
Of archerys and off arblastere crossbowmen
Þat cowþ welle þe craft of werre. have mastered; war
¶ In foot other many a man moo42 afoot
Able to feyghte as welle as þo. these
325 Two hunderd þousand
Went wyþ hym out of lond,
40
ych: so F; B: Y. In the manuscript a superscript c is written over the y. Furnivall
expands this to ych, whereas Bryan believes that the superscript sign is merely an
enlarged dot, as the scribe regularly dots his y’s.
41
kynges; F kyngis.
42
The first letter of practically every line has been touched up with a vertical stroke in
red ink. In line 323, however, the touch of red has been given to the word Foot rather
than to the first word, In. This word has been added in the margin, most probably after
the accentuation with red ink had taken place.
And many moo sykerly more; certainly

That Y can nat nombrye. ascertain the number of
Arthour toke þan þe lond handed over; then
330 To Moddredes owne hond. control
He kept al oþer þyng, held on to everything
Save þe corowne weryng. except; wearing
But he was fals of hys kepynge,43 treacherous; rule
As he schalle hure here folewynge. in what follows
335 Now than ys Artour ycome,44 arrived
And hys ost, to Sowthamptone: host
Ther was many a man of myghte, 45 powerful
Strong and bold also to fyghte.
Eche man hath take hys schuppynge accommodation on board
340 And ys at hys loghynge. sleeping quarters
Up goþ þe sayl, þey sayleþ faste:
Arthour owt of syht ys paste.
Þe ferst lond þat he gan meete,46 first; came across
Forsoþe hyt was Bareflete;47 truly; Barfleur
345 Ther he gan up furst aryve. arrived
Now welle mote Arthour spede and thryve.48 may; prosper
And þat hys saule spede þe better, may be successful
Lat eche man sey a Pater Noster. let
¶ Pater Noster
Now God spede Artour welle,
350 Hym ys comyng a nyw batelle. He has … coming to him
Ther coom a gyant out of Spayne, came
And ravasched had fayr Elayne. carried off
He had brouht heore up on an hulle; brought; hill
Mornyng hyt ys to hure or telle. sorrowful; hear [it]
355 Cosyn heo was to Kyng Hoell, she
A damesel fayr and gentelle. young lady
43
Furnivall was the first to add fals in this line. The text as it stands, of his kepyng,
meaning ‘in the exercise of his authority’ (cf. MED s.v. keping 10), does not make
sense.
44
MS: than; F: thanne.
45
In left margin: ¶ Ascendebat navem suam Hamptonie (‘He boarded his ship at
Hampton’).
46
gan meete: the preterite form gan often functions as an auxiliary of the past tense
for a following infinitive.
47
MS: fforsoþe; F: forsoþ.
48
Trans.: Now well may Arthur succeed and enjoy good fortune. And that his soul
may be all the more successful …
And hut forþermore to,49 in addition to that

He ravasched heore moder also.
He dude þe damesel for to dye, caused… to die
360 For he myght nat lygge heore bye.50 was not able; lie
Whan þis was told to Artour,
He maked much dolour lamented
And send Bedewer for to spye sent; find out
How he myght come hym bye. get at
365 And he was nat sclowh, slow
But to þe hulle hym drowh went
Þat closed was wyþ water stronge, surrounded; turbulent
Þe hulle amydde gret and longe. in the middle; high
He went over to þe hulle syde, slope
370 And þere afonde a womman byde,51 discovered; waiting
Þat sorwedd and wept, mornynge52 sorrowed
For Eleynes deþ and departynge, departure [from this world]
And bad Bedewer to fle also, begged
Last he were ded more to: lest; as well
375 ‘For yf þe gyant fynde þe,
Wythoute dowte he wylle þe scle.’ doubt; slay
Bedwer, wyþ alle hastynge, in a hurry
Tolde Arthour alle þis þynge.
Amorwe, whan þat hyt was day, the next morning
380 Arthour toke þyder hys way.
Bedewer wyþ hym went and Keye –
Men þat cowþe welle þe weye –53
And broute Arthour meyntenaunt brought; instantly
Even byfore þe gyant.54
385 Arthour fowht wyþ þat wyght; creature
He had almost ylost hys might. power
Wyþ muche peyne, þruh Goddeh grace, difficulty; through
He sclowh þe geant in þat place, killed
49
MS: forþermore; F, B: ferthermore.
50
MS: nat; F: not.
51
MS: afonde; F: a fonde. Furnivall interprets a as ‘he’, but this use of a for ‘he’
never occurs elsewhere in the text; moreover, the MED records afonden in the sense
of ‘to find out, discover’.
52
Furnivall omits the comma before ‘mornynge’.
53
In other versions of the story Bedewer and Keye had both been on a reconnoitring
mission, so Keye knew the way as well.
54
MS: byfore; B: fore. The word by has been added in between Even and fore, and
might be a later addition, as the ink is lighter than in fore.
And þan he made Bedewere ordered

390 To smyte of hys heed þere.
To þe ost he dude hyt brynge, host; had; brought
And þeron was gret woundrynge. about that; amazement
Hyt was so oryble and so greet, monstrous
More þan any horse heed.
395 Than hadde Hoel ioye ynowh enough
For þat Arthour so hym sclowh. because; thus; killed
And for a perpetuel memorie55 memorial
He made a chapelle of Seynt Marye
In þe hulle upon þe pleyne; plain
400 Wyþinne þat, þe tumbe of Eleyne.56
And þat name, wyþoute nay, without question
Hyt bereþ hut into þis day.
Now ys an ende of þis þynge, matter
And Artour haþ nyw tydynge: message
405 ‘Lucy þe emperour wyþ hys host
Comeþ fast in gret bost. arrogance
Þey helyþ over alle þe lond, cover
Fowre hunderd þowsand
An hunderd and foure and twenty;’
410 Thus herawdes dude ham rekeny. estimated them
Thus he hadde gadered to hym
Of Cristiens and of Sarasyn,
Wyþ alle hys wytt and labour ingenuity; effort
To destroyen Arthour.
415 Arthour dude wyselye, did
And hadde ever gode aspye intelligence
Of Lucyes governynge stratigy
And of hys þyder comynge. approach
But somme seyde hyt were folye
420 To fyght ahenst Emperour Lucie, against
For he hadde sexe evere ahenst oon,57 six [men]
And counceyled Arthour to fle and goon.58 flee; go
Wyþ þe emperour come kynges many oon many a one
55
for: inserted (with caret) between And and a.
56
In left margin: tombe.
57
MS, F sexe; B: sepe (‘seven’). Arthur’s counselors tell him that Lucius’ army is six
times as large as his. But considering that Arthur has at least 200,000 soldiers and
Lucius 400,124, it is ‘merely’ two to one.
58
And; F, B: &. Although the manuscript clearly reads A, this makes no sense here.
And alle þeire power hoolle and soom. host; one and all
425 Stronger men myht no man see,
As fulle of drede as þey myght be. frightening
But Arthour was nat dysmayd;
He tryst on God and was wel payd, relied
And prayd þe Hye Trynyte
430 Ever hys help forto be.
And alle hys men wyþ oo voyse one
Cryede to God wyþ oo noyse: outcry
‘Fader in hevene, Þy wylle be doon;
Defende Þy puple fram þeire foon, foes
435 And lat nat þe heþoun men let; pagan
Destroye þe puple Crystien.
Have mercy on Þy servauntis bonde,59 hard pressed
And kepe ham fram þe heþoun honde. protect them against
Þe muchelnesse of men, samfayle, 60 superior strength; truly
440 Ys nat victorie in batayle; does not equal
But after þe wylle þat in hevene ys,
So þe victorie falleþ, ywys.’ certainly
Than seyd Arthour, ‘Hyt ys so,
Avaunt baner and be goo!’ forward
445 Now frendes alle, for Goddes love,
Rereþ howre hertes to God above, raise; hearts
And seyeþ howre prayeris faste,
Þat we welle spede furst and laste.61 from beginning to end
¶ Pater Noster
The emperour tryst on hys men,
450 And þat haþ bygyled hym. deceived
Forsoþe hyt most nedeh be so,62 necessarily
For þey beþ cursed þat wolle hyt do.63 would do so
Suth alle myght comeþ of God,64 since
To tryst on hym, Y hold hyt good.
59
MS sevauntis.
60
MS: samfayle; F, B: sainfayle.
61
MS: welle; B: wolle.
62
MS: fforsoþe; F: Forsothe.
63
MS: wolle; F: welle. In right margin, in a smaller hand: Maledictus qui confidet in
homine (‘Cursed is the man who trusts in mankind’; Jeremiah 17:5).
64
MS: suth; F, B: such. As there is hardly to no visible difference between the
scribe’s c and t, both readings are possible. But because the context requires a word
like ‘since’ suth seemed the better option, all the more so as its spelling is chiefly WM
and SW (cf. MED s.v. sitthe).
455 Lucye haþ pyght hys paveloun set up camp

And sprad wyþ pryde hys gunfanoun; spread; battle standard
Hys claryouns blastes fulle grete blywe. trumpets; calls; sounded
Archeris schot men overthrywe, shooting; brought down
Bowes, arwes and arblastere, crossbowman
460 Schot sore alle yvere. painfully; together
Quarels, arwes – þey fly smerte – bolts; arrows; causing pain
Þe fyched men þruh heed and herte. which; pierced
Axes, sperys and gysarmes gret battle axes
Clefte many a prowt mannes heed. bold
465 Hors and steedes gan to grent groaned
And deyde wyþ strokes þat þey hente.65 caught
Many a man þere lost hys lyf;
Many on was wedyw þat was wyff.
Þere men were wetschoede, had wet shoes
470 Alle of brayn and of blode. due to
Gret rywthe hyt was to seyn sorrow; see
Þe feldes fulle of men yscleyn.66 slain
Lucy, þe emperour, also was dede,
But ho hym sclowh, Y can nat rede. who; killed; tell
475 He, for alle hys grete renoun, renown
Ahenst Arthour hadde no fusoun, was unsuccessful
No more þan have twenty schep sheep
Ahenst vyve wolfeh greet. five
To God be evere alle honoureh,
480 The felde was hys and Arthoureh.67
Arthour, as he scholde done, do
Sende Lucyes body to Rome. sent
Whan þe Romeynes say þis, saw
Þo þey dradde Arthour and hys. then; feared
485 Also, he buryed Bedewere,
Hys frend and hys botyler; cupbearer
And so he dude other echon did; everyone else
In abbeys of relygyoun monasteries
Þat were Cristien of name. who; persuasion
490 He dude to alle þe same,
And dude for ham masse singe had … sung
Wyth solempne song and offrynge;
65
MS strokes; F strokis.
66
MS: feldes; F: feltes.
67
MS: felde; F, B: falde.
And bood þerefor to rest ordered; because of this

Tylle þat wynter was past.
495 Boþe he, hys men, echone,68 everyone
Servyd God in devocione, with
Þankyng God of Hys myht,
Þat kepeþ Hys servaunteh ryht, preserves; safely
And suffreþ noon for to spylle to be killed
500 Þat Hym loveþ and tryste wylle. rely on
Þus worschup God dude, certeyn, honour
To Englond þat þo was Bretayn. then
Þe More Breteyn Englond ys,69 Greater Britain
As men may rede on cronyclys.
505 Byhend þe see Bretayne þer ys, beyond; Brittany
Þat haþ hys name forsoþe of þis, its; truly; for this [reason]
For þe kyng Maxymyan, because
Þe next after Octavyan,
He conquered alle Armoryk
510 And to þe reme named hyt lyk: realm; similar to
Armorica on Latyn me cleped þat lond,70 one; called
Tyl Maxymyan conqueryd hyt wyth honde,71 by force
And called hyt Lyte Bretayne þan, Little
So hyht þis lond þat he coom fram. thus; was called; came
515 For perpetuell mynde of Grete Breteyne,72 remembrance
He called hyt Lyte Bretayne,
Þat men schulde kepe in mynde and wytt bear; know
How þis lond conqueryd hytt.
For Walsche men beþ Bretouns of kynde, descent
520 Know þat welle fast on mynde. bear that firmly in mind
Englysche men beþ Saxoynes,
Þat beþ of Engistes soones; Hengist; descendants
Therefore þe Walsch man Bretoun British
Seyþ and clepeþ us Sayson,73 call
68
Neither Furnivall nor Bryan has included punctuation in this line.
69
In left margin, underlined, in a frame with a man’s face as left margin and a hand
in red pointing to it: Quomodo Anglia est Britannia Maior et quare maior (‘How
England is Great Britain and why Great’).
70
In right margin: Armorica.
71
MS coquered.
72
MS: perpetuell; F, B: perpetuelle. In right margin, in pencil: perpetual.
73
In right margin: a black hand pointing to line 524; below it is written: Þat ys to
seye upon a reess / stynkyng Saxone be on pees. Bryan includes this gloss in the text,
525 And seyþ, ‘taw or peyd Sayson brount’,74

Whan he ys wroth or ellys drounke, angry
Havyng mynde of Engystis men recalling
Þat wyth gyle sclow þeyre kyn deceit; killed; relatives
At þe place of þe Stonhenge;75
530 Hut þey þenkeþ for to venge. [whom] they; revenge
And þat hyt nevere be so, may never be
Seyþ a Pater Noster more to. another
¶ Pater Noster
Now turne we to oure labour, let us address; task
And lat us speke of Arthour:
535 He cast on herte sone pondered; in
After þat to go to Rome,
And spak of passage and hys wey spoke; course of action
Forth over Mount Ioye.
And sone after, upon an owr, at a certain time
540 He hurde of Mordred þe tretour, heard
That hadde alle þis lond on warde – in control
Evylle moot suche fare and harde! badly; may; violently
Who may best bygyle a man, deceive
But suche as he tryst upan? 76
545 Þer ys no man welnye, Y tryste, hardly
Þat can be waar of ‘hadde-wyste’.77 aware
Modred, þis falss man,78
Muche sorw þo bygan; misery; then; caused
after line 526. Therefore the line numbers of the present edition differ by two from
Bryan’s from line 527 to the end of the text.
74
And seyþ, ‘taw or peyd Sayson brount’: a line in which the scribe has underlined
the Welsh words and which may be translated as: ‘Shut up or desist, Saxon filth’. taw:
‘be quiet’, peyd: ‘cease, desist’. Sayson: the Welsh form of address for the English
still in use today. Brount represents the Southern Welsh way of pronouncing the word
brwnt, ‘filthy, ‘dirty’, still a rude word nowadays (personal communication from
Ceridwen Lloyd-Morgan). Although Furnivall had already given translations for the
Welsh words, Bryan treated them as English and tried to translate them with the help
of the OED and the English Dialect Dictionary. Not surprisingly she concluded that it
‘is a very difficult line’. Nevertheless her translation comes remarkably close: ‘Shut
up or you’ll get what’s coming to you, Saxon brute’.
75
MS: Stonhenge; F: Stonehenge. The first letter of the word Stonhenge has been
written in red, the only red letter in the text beside the ‘H’ of Herkeneþ in line 1.
76
MS: upan; B: upon.
77
hadde wyste: had I known (how it would turn out).
78
MS: Modred; F: Mordred.
He stuffed alle castells equipped

550 Wyþ armyre and vytells weapons; provisions
And strenghthed hym on eche syde79 fortified
Wyþ men of contreys ferre and wyde. from
He toke þe qweene, Arthoureh wyff,
Ahenst Goddes lawe and gode lyff, decency
555 And putte heore to soiourne þo caused; her; stay
At Everwyk. God hyf hym wo! may give; misery
Yhork ys Everwyk,
And so me calleþ hyt.80 one; it [yet]
Arthour aryved at Whytsond Wissant (Calais)
560 Wyth gret myght and strong hond, force; military strength
And Mordred, sainh fayl, truly
Haf hym þo a strong batayl. gave; then
Many a man, as Y rede, read
Þat day was þere dede: dead
565 Arthoures nevew Waweyn nephew; Gawain
Þat day was þere ysclayn, slain
And other knyhtes many moo; more
Þan Arthour was hevy and woo. sad; sorrowful
Mordred fly toward Londoun; fled
570 He most nat come in þe toun. was not allowed
Þan fled he to Wynchester,81
And wyth hys mayne kep hym þere. army; guarded himself
And Arthour, on gret haste,
Pursywed after hym faste. followed in pursuit
575 Mordred, wythoute fayle,
Fled into Cornewayle.
The qwene, wyþoute lesyng, lying
Hurde of þis tydyng, heared; news
And how Mordred was flow, had fled
580 And how to Cornewale he hym drow.82 betook himself
Heo of mercy hadde noon hoope; she
Therfor heo dude on a russet cote,83
79
Written in margin under line 551: wyth Men of countreys, the catchword for the
next quire.
80
Lines 557-58 Written as one line in the manuscript, but red brackets separate off
the second part of this line.
81
MS: Wychester; F, B: Wynchester.
82
he: inserted (with caret) between Cornewale and hym.
83
MS he; B heo. russet: a woolen, reddish cloth.
And to Carlyoun ys prevyly rounne Caerleon; secretly; fled

And made heoreself þo a nounne.
585 Fro þat place never heo wende, went
But of heore lyf þere made an ende. lived her life to the end
Waweynes body, as Y reede,
And other lordes þat weere dede,84
Arthour sente into Skotlonde
590 And buryed ham þere, Y understonde.85
Muche folk þerhenne he toke þo, from there; gathered
At Northumberlond also,
Fram dyverse places to Arthour come, came
Hys wylle to werk and to done. perform
595 Thus he sembled a fulle gret ost. assembled
To Cornewayle he draweþ hym fast, moves
After þat Mordred, þe traytour,
Þat hadde do hym muche dyshonour.
That tretour hadde gret strength army
600 And fulled þat lond on brede and lengthe. occupied; everywhere
Suche a batelle as þere was redy þo
Hadde never Arthour byfore ydoo. done
They fowht tyl þer renne doun bloode86 ran
As a ryver or a flood.87
605 Þey fowht ever sore and sadde, fiercely; firmly
Men nyst ho þe betere hadde. who; the upper hand
But at þe last, certayn,
Was Mordred and alle hys ysclayn slain
And Arthour ybete wyþ wounde. inflicted
610 He myght nat stonde on grounde,88
But on lyter ryht anon litter; immediately
Was browht to Aveloun.89
Þat was a place fayr and mury; pleasant
Now hyt hooteþ Glastyngbury. is called
84
MS: dede; Furnivall: deede.
85
MS ham or hem; F ham, which is the usual form in the text.
86
MS renne; F, B come.
87
In right margin: Bellum Arthuri apud Camelertonum in Cornubria (‘Arthur’s battle
at Camelford in Cornwall’). in: inserted (with caret) between Camelertonum and
Cornubria.
88
MS: nat; F: not.
89
In left margin: ¶ Avelona est insula pomorum Glastonia (‘Avalon is the Isle of
Apples Glastonbury’). The word Glastonia has been written in black, whereas the
other words of the gloss are in red.
615 Ther Arthour, þat worthy kyng,

Maked hys lyves endyng. suffered
But for he skaped þat batelle, ywys, because; escaped from
Bretouns and Cornysch seyeþ þus, say
Þat he levyþ hut, perde,90 lives; by God
620 And schalle come and be a kyng ahe. again
At Glastyngbury, on þe qweer, choir
Þey made Arthoureh toumbe þere,
And wrote wyþ Latyn vers þus:91
‘Hic iacet Arthurus rex, quondam rexque futurus’.92
625 Thys was þus forsoþe ydone
Þe yheer after þe Incarnacione year
Vyf hundred fourty and two.93
Now save us alle fra woo from
Jhesu Cryst, hevenly kyng,
630 And graunt us alle hys blessyng.
And þat hyt moote so be, may
Seyeþ alle Pater and Ave.
¶ Pater Noster Ave
Ho þat wolle more loke, those who; find out
Reed on þe Frensch boke,
635 And he schalle fynde þere
Þynges þat Y leete here. left out
But yf þat God wolle graunte grace,
Y schalle rehercy in þis place enumerate
Alle þe kyngeh þat after were
640 And what names at þey bere;94
And ho þat wolle þeyre gestes loke, deeds
Reed on þe Frensche boke. Amen fiat95
90
MS: levyþ; F: levyth. MS perde; F, B parde.
91
MS: wyþ; F: wyth.
92
‘Here lies King Arthur, the once and future king’.
93
In left margin, in red: ¶ Anno domini quingentesimo quadragesimo secundo (‘In the
year of our Lord five hundred and forty-two’). Geoffrey of Monmouth also records
542 as the date of Arthur’s death.
94
MS at; B þat.
95
These final words are a later addition, but in a contemporary hand.

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The Medieval

The Medieval Chronicle 7

Amsterdam - New York, NY 2011

Contributors .................................................................................... vii

Julia Bolton Holloway ...................................................................... 1

Nicholas Evans ............................................................................... 15

Sally Lamb ...................................................................................... 45

Nicholas Sparks ............................................................................ 63

Thea Summerfield ........................................................................... 85

Alan Cooper .................................................................................. 103

Jane Roberts ................................................................................. 115

Helen Fulton ................................................................................ 137

Sarah L. Peverley ......................................................................... 167

Matthew Phillpott ......................................................................... 205

Anna Seregina ............................................................................ 223

Marije Pots and Erik Kooper ....................................................... 239

Julia Bolton Holloway – Mediatheca ‘Fioretta Mazzei’ – Florence (I)

While Erik Kooper is the general editor of The Medieval Chronicle,

Julia Bolton Holloway

Simone Weil in her essay ‘Iliad, Poem of Might’ wrote:

First the alphabet (initially in the form of Phoenician/Etruscan runes

The Matter of France

Beowulf, a Swedish/Danish oral tale, is transcribed into literacy by an

Gates of Horn and Ivory

Gascons in good stead on this occasion, whereas the Franks fought at a

We next hear of the Chanson de Roland being sung by Taillefer, the

The Matter of Rome and the Matter of Florence

III.211). There is a possibility that Brunetto was present in person at

turn to his students Guido Cavalcante, Dante Alighieri and Francesco

opposite extreme) the Brunetto Latino manuscripts narrating the

The Matter of Britain

The Matter of Ireland

The Matter of Bulgaria

The Fallacy of the Alphabet

excised all of her scriptural translations, apparently made directly

fabulous artefacts, yet are as astonishly real as Hannibal’s elephants

l’antica vulgata (Petrocchi 1975); Emperor of Culture: Alfonso X the Learned of

One area of academic debate regarding the origins of Northumbria and

main group (known as the Clonmacnoise group) formed of (a) the

AU [622].4: Bellum Lindais (also AT kl 127.11) (The battle of Lindas)

AT kl 129.3: Babtismum Etum maic Elle, qui primus credidit in reghionibus

AU [631].1: Bellum filii Ailli… (The battle of the son of Aelle)

AU [632].1: Bellum Cathloen regis Britonum, et Anfrith

AU [632].4: Combustio Bennchoir Moer in Britannia … (The burning of

AU [633].1: Bellum Iudris regis Britonum

AT kl 138.3: Congregacio Saxonum contra Osualt (The coming together of

AU [639].3: Bellum Osúaldi regis Saxonum

AU [650].1: Bellum Ossu fri Pante

AU [651].2: Iugulatio Oisseni m. Oisirgg (AT kl 152.3: Oissin maic Oiseirg;

AU [656].2: Bellum Pante regis Saxonum. Ossu uictor erat.

AU [656].3: Bellum Annae (Battle of Anna)

AU [658].2: Mors Gureit regis Alo Cluathe (Death of Guret, king of

AU [671].1: Mors Ossu filii Eitilbrith regis Saxonum

AU [672].6: … et combustio Bennchair Brittonum (and the burning of

AU [685].2: Saxones Campum Bregh uastant et aeclesias plurimas in mense

summato, magna cum caterua militum suorum interfectus est la Bruidhi

AU [691].2: Theodorus, episcopus Brittaniae, quieuit (AT kl 191.2, CS

AU [693].7: Bellum contra Pante.

AU [694].6: Domnall m. Auin, rex Alo Cluathe, moritur (Domnall son of

AU [699].1: Bouina strages in Saxonia (AT kl 199.2) (A murrain of cattle in

this, although, when the chronological development of the Irish

are substantial differences between the Anglo-Saxon and British items

Duncan’s theory regarding the Irish chronicles is weakened by

In another study (Evans forthcoming) I argue that many of the