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The Tale of Gamelyn

This is the preliminary work conducted not just as part of my larger Chaucer Project, but specifically to be presented at the PAMLA conference at Riverside in October, 2014. Over the next few months I hope to have a more concrete idea of exactly where this is going, and which parts I am going to focus on, but for now, here is everything I have so far.

La851f.54v

London, British Library MS Lansdowne 851 Folio 54v – beginning of the Tale of Gamelyn

Note: the random numbers in parentheses are meant to correspond to my sources. They are currently out of order.

The Tale of Gamelyn is the black sheep of the Canterbury Tales. Few have spent more time on it past dubbing it “un-Chaucerian” and “spurious” (8) while making various arguments against its authorship. Some Chaucer scholarship has so deeply seeped into tradition it has become irrevocable truth among medievalists, and unfortunately the idea that the Tale of Gamelyn was an addendum to the Canterbury Tales and not penned by Chaucer has suffered such a fate. However, when looking at several of the major strands of argument against the Tale of Gamelyn’s authenticity certain fallacies become immediately apparent and some previously perceived irrefutable answers only lead to further questions. Here I don’t just want to argue the Tale of Gamelyn’s authorship, but its origin and correct place within the tale order of the Canterbury Tales.

Scribal interventions played a crucial role in how manuscripts are analyzed and interpreted in modern times since the scribes supplied the end products as they are presently received. In the case of the Canterbury Tales, while Manly-Rickert entertained the idea that Chaucer provided more than just the text in the form of incipits, explicits, headings, and various marginalia (1) others believe only the actual tales to be his (2). Medieval scholarship in recent times has developed the convention of identifying scribes, tracing their works and making predictions about their lives in order to better attribute intentions to their emendations. When placed within this context, manuscripts cease being simply objects to transmit an author’s words and the organic processes undergone during manuscript creation becomes more of a concern than the end product of the actual manuscript.  Therefore, when critics discredit Chaucer of having written the Tale of Gamelyn, it is implied that it may have been a scribal addition in line with the other scattered headlinks and endlinks throughout the Canterbury Tales. However, as will be explored, while this would not at all be unfeasible as an isolated manifestation in a single manuscript, the Tale of Gamelyn’s appearance within twenty-five manuscripts renders this theory very unlikely. Since scribes played a significant role within manuscript creation: they corrected simple errors; performed the medieval equivalent of fact checking; edited; provided incipits, explicits, and marginalia; and created or recreated material out of either necessity or preference (4) and further, because the Tale of Gamelyn does not appear in some of the early authoritative manuscripts, it could, but should not be concluded that the tale was a scribal addition, so well completed it maintained its place within several strands of manuscripts containing the Canterbury Tales for the better part of the fifteenth century (8).

Following, the majority of arguments against the Tale of Gamelyn being a part of Chaucer’s oeuvre focus on its absence from various authoritative manuscripts, including the Hengwrt and Ellesmere, often conveniently overlooking that it does appear within several manuscripts that are considered a part of the early manuscript category (Corpus, Harley and Lansdowne), coming from a similar time and place and which include and exclude tales in their own right (5), independently of previously created manuscripts; the Tale of Gamelyn exemplars were circulating along with Chaucer’s other works in different parts of the country simultaneously and its inclusion in almost a third of the Canterbury Tales extant manuscripts cannot therefore be deemed a simple scribal miscommunication (3). However, it has been argued that four of the most authoritative extant manuscripts (Ellesmere, Hengwrt, Harley 7334 and Corpus) were primarily worked on by two scribes who most likely knew each other, and may have collaborated on creating the exemplars, or at the very least shared information. Scribe D, responsible for the Harley 7334 and Corpus manuscripts, authoritatively inducted the Tale of Gamelyn into the list of tales and through this addition began the tradition of inserting it, accounting for the numerous manuscripts that followed and that also included the tale (8).

Yet, unlike other additions to the Canterbury Tales, along with other manuscripts for which this kind of argument could be made, attributing this tale to another (scribe, or editor) who would be attempting to form more cohesive bonds between tales actually obscures the reasoning further since it most certainly does not make the text as a whole easier to read – the tale’s oddity actually makes the linking process more difficult, hinting at possible reasons for its initial exclusion from the Chaucer canon. As far as tale ordering is concerned, the process is less convoluted without the Tale of Gamelyn. However, when regarded properly, it will be evidenced that the tale does share a place amongst the others, fitting in almost seamlessly which is to say it belongs exactly where it is placed, since unlike other tales its place does not shift between manuscripts. In fact, even within authoritative manuscripts, such as the aforementioned Hengwrt and Ellesmere, that do not contain the Tale of Gamelyn, there appears to be space allotted for additional material at the exact place where the tale is found within other manuscripts.

Another strand of argument against the Tale of Gamelyn’s authenticity takes into consideration its broad circulation, but stipulates that it must have gotten mixed in with Chaucer’s works and found itself inserted into the manuscripts through distribution of the exemplar since it could not be identified as un-Chaucerian to the untrained eye, especially because nothing else like it existed at the time, making it difficult to attribute the work to a different author (6). However, only part of this argument is correct as nothing else like it was in existence. Skeat formed various connections between the Tale of Gamelyn and a few other sources written during the reign of Edward III, but even he concluded that these similarities were shallow at best and the tale is unique, having been written with few if any previous inspirations (7). In fact the Tale of Gamelyn has been the influence for many later famous works such as the tales of Robin Hood, Rosalynde, and As You Like It. However this neither adds nor detracts from the “did Chaucer write this?” question.

Nevertheless it is its originality that casts doubt among critics as to Chaucer’s authorship. The majority of his works were either adaptations of previous narratives, or had clearly transparent points of influence. Yet when looking at the Tale of Gamelyn as un-Chaucerian based on its utter uniqueness, the underlying assumption is that Chaucer was incapable of creating original work. Aside from the adaptations of previous narratives, his other stories were his own. Simply because he was influenced does not detract from his talent or ingenuity, and the fact that he could take an idea or line from another work and reconfigure it into a whole new tale should actually attest to this. However, what this paper will shortly evince is that the Tale of Gamelyn, despite its original narrative, is actually just another example of appropriation and recycling of old ideas.

The last well known argument against Chaucer having written this tale, and the one with perhaps the most merit, relies on the metrics of the tale. It is written in a line form and scheme unlike anything else within the Canterbury Tales, and

Skeat notedthe variableness of the metre” (1884, p. xxiii), which is not as simple as Sands suggests in calling it a “seven stress affair” (1966, p. 156). That implies a line of four stresses before and three after the caesura which, as the poem is in couplets, could be taken as a version of ballad meter. But both the actual state of the meter and the frequency of four line syntax units (longer than a ballad stanza) refute this possibility. Skeat noted that many first half lines have three stresses, and this is more visible in the   sparer, less scribally inflated, style of the Petworth manuscript, where three stresses before and two after the caesura is the norm, with a number of unstressed or half stressed syllables frequently added, and the occasional “heavy” line. This makes the meter not    unlike that found in alliterative poetry, and there is a recurrence, though no regularity, of alliterative phrasing in the poem (9).

Nevertheless, when running searches for Chaucer’s most commonly used words, the frequency within the Tale of Gamelyn does not differ from other tales or parts of manuscripts. Neither does his preferred spelling (accounting for the disparity of spelling practices at the time) (10). So when the scheme and appearance of the Tale of Gamelyn are questioned, what is being referred to is the difference between it and other medieval texts, even those attributed to Chaucer – it is written in middle English, sounds very much like other parts of the Canterbury Tales, but relies on Old English conventions – thus the Tale of Gamelyn is yet another example of appropriation. Not unlike in previous stories where Chaucer reworks a theme, a few lines, or an entire tale, here he is recreating an earlier story and experimenting with style.

The Tale of Gamelyn is Chaucer’s version of the medieval Romance, and to draw out the parallels we will look at one of the earliest such stories, Beowulf. Even as Chaucer more than likely never read Beowulf himself, it is one of the oldest and best known examples that stands to represent the genre. Its basic elements have been replicated multiple times with varied, yet similar effects, and here we will dissect it piece by piece.

Before proceeding further, this is a (brief) translation of the introduction to Beowulf and the Tale of Gamelyn from MS Lansdowne 851 (the version I have chosen to use as my base text). [FOOTNOTE: The exemplar used for the Lansdowne manuscript appears to be very close to that of the Corpus Christi manuscript, and although La is considered a C manuscript, it is also one of the most complete within the early manuscript tradition that also includes the Tale of Gamelyn (13)]

Beginning of Beowulf:

So. The Spear-Danes in days gone by
and the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness.
We have heard of those princes’ heroic campaigns.

There was Shield Sheafson, scourge of many tribes,
a wrecker of mead-benches, rampaging among foes.
This terror of the hall-troops had come far.
A foundling to start with, he would flourish later on
as his powers waxed and his worth was proved.
In the end each clan on the outlying coasts
beyond the whale-road had to yield to him
and begin to pay tribute. That was one good king.

Afterwards a boy-child was born to Shield,
a cub in the yard, a comfort sent
by God to that nation. He knew what they had tholed,
and long times and troubles they’d come through.
Without a leader; so the Lord of Life,
The glorious Almighty, made this man renowned (11).

Beginning of the Tale of Gamelyn:

And pere fore listen . & herkenp pis tale ariht .
And 3e schullen here of a douhte knyht
Sir Iohn of Boundys was his name
He coupe of nortur & muchel of game
pre sonnes pe knyht had & wip his body he he wane

The eldest was a muche schrewe & sone he begane
His breperen loued wele here fader & of him were agast
The eldest deserued his fadre curs & had it att pe last
The good knyht his fadere leuede so 3ore

That depe was comen him to & handeled him sore
The goode knyht cared sore seke per he leye
How his children schold leuen after his deye
He had bue wide where bot no husbonde he was
Att the londe pat \he/ had was verrey purchas (12 – MS La)

The similarities are first apparent in the language used to begin both tales that are an introduction of the characters and how they have come to their position as we find them. The characters’ importance are set up according to lineage, and the story continues from there into separate episodes within great halls, and throughout the outskirts of the kingdom (swampy lake grounds vs. the forest) where feats must be accomplished and enemies vanquished through prowess, heroism, and sometimes trickery in order to maintain status and safeguard the seat of power. As Robert Bell has stated, such inclusions are in line with the Anglo-Saxon traditions that have long been popular with the peasantry. Moreover the convention maintains the oral tradition as the Tale of Gamelyn’s “And pere fore listen” is a direct echo of Beowulf’s “So,” which is appropriate for the purposes of the Canterbury Tales where each teller orally relates a story to the group. Arguably, the Tale of Gamelyn is better suited to this purpose than a majority of other tales on the pilgrimage making use of the practice of repetition and alliteration to aide with the memorization process that would have been necessary to deliver the tale from memory.

As the stories continue, the heroic/action episodes are interspersed with times of peace and leisure, lapsing in time respective to the length of each story; whereas Beowulf spans a lifetime and can be afforded many years of reprieve, the Tale of Gamelyn, a much shorter tale, is allowed only days and weeks. But everything from Beowulf’s form and style to narrative movement is mimicked in the Tale of Gamelyn on a smaller scale.

While Beowulf contains myriad characters (many of which are mentioned solely for maintaining the convention of an extended outline of lineage), there are key characters that are paralleled between both stories. From the beginning Shield Sheafson “weox under wolcnum,” (flourished later on as his powers waxed) proving his merit, and is shown as a “god cyning” (good king) for his various feats before his descendants are named, much as Johan of Boundys is introduced as a “douhte knyht” who “had bue wide” and whose “londe pat he had was verrey purchas” before his own heirs are announced. While neither of these characters figure in their respective stories, it will be through their lines of descent that the framework for both narratives takes place. Shield Sheafson’s descendent through several generations, Hrothgar, allows for the current situation in Denmark to exist since it is his hall, Heorot, that bids Beowulf’s arrival and sets into motion his enterprise. However, Hrothgar has his own parallel role to fulfill much like the unnamed king in the Tale of Gamelyn. Both men enable the fame of the heroes so that they may, after fulfilling their feats, rest in peace, even as the stories here departure from each other allowing Beowulf fifty years of reprieve before his last feat, as opposed to the lifetime Gamelyn earns after performing his duties. Regardless, the seal of approval from the highest power in the land, the king, is seen as an emblem of accomplishment since the king stands in for the voice of the people thus globally condoning the activities of the two champions and making clear the lens through which their violent behavior should be regarded.

In addition, for the appropriate pictures of the heroes to be created, the malevolent entities threatening their respective realms must be properly represented in conjunction with the background of the territories that the heroes must fight to rescue and protect. Moreover, it must be noted that the Tale of Gamelyn has been depicted as the first outlaw chronicle by Knight and Ohlgren (9 again). While their argument is beautifully orchestrated, here the parallel between the Tale of Gamelyn and Beowulf relies on the notion of maintaining order and returning the land from chaos – a point made evident by the king’s approval at the end. While Knight and Ohlgren’s assertion regarding the Tale of Gamelyn’s status as an outlaw is correct, Robin Hood, to whom they make the connection is a descendant from this tale much like this tale is derived from Beowulf, which is still primarily concerned with mitigating threats against order. Thus once the present state of affairs is established it stands that both lands are distressed – either tormented by Grendel for twelve years as he takes over Heorot, or ruined into poverty by Johan. The heroes of the stories (Beowulf and Gamelyn) embark on a mission to recapture lost grounds (Heorot and Gamelyn’s land). Beowulf attests to his physical prowess through oral eloquence and relies on stories of his past to convince those he meets while Gamelyn demonstrates his physical strength through a wrestling match – a point of relevance later on. Beowulf slays Grendel and then they feast. Gamelyn defeats the men Johan sets upon him, has Johan locked in a tower, and then they feast. Grendel’s Mother comes to seek vengeance against Heorot and the men within, aiming to retributively destroy Beowulf. Johan enacts revenge against Gamelyn. Beowulf, in an incredibly bloody battle slays Grendel’s Mother. Gamelyn, in a fury and fit of violence strikes down several men and has Johan bound. Beowulf departs back to his land where, after reprise from physical activity he becomes king. Gamelyn departs into the forest, spends time with a band of outlaws and becomes their king.

However, the time of peace does not last long before a dragon in search of his treasure begins tormenting the town, causing Beowulf to once again take action. Gamelyn’s remission is disturbed when he hears of Johan’s newest atrocities against the people who all now live in complete shambles and poverty, moving Gamelyn to take action and return to his city in order to restore order. Beowulf, with Wiglaf’s help slays the dragon. Gamelyn, with Ote’s help puts an end to Johan’s tyranny. Lastly, Wiglaf becomes Beowulf’s heir, and Ote inherits the lands his father had intended for him to have.

At this point the stories diverge and whereas Beowulf dies, Gamelyn is rewarded by the king, thus inverting the story during the third part as Gamelyn gains his glory after his third endeavor at heroics, as opposed to Beowulf’s prolonged peace, which he finds between the second and third ordeal. However, the difference in ending makes sense considering the Tale of Gamelyn’s overall purpose. The tale has been categorized as a Romance (15), and even if only barely applicable, it still appears to be a stretch. Yet under this nomenclature, for Gamelyn to die or incur punishment would seem remarkably unwarranted, harsh, and unnecessary. Chaucer’s contemporaries would feel somewhat disengaged from things such as blood feuds and the celebration of violence in what professes be an elite society – concepts that combine rather awkwardly with Christian perspectives that honor an allegory of salvation and ideals about humility. In fact, one of the qualities Chaucer is best known for is being one of the first writers in the English language during the medieval period to really promote vernacular language and more importantly local concerns within his writing, as opposed to a lot of his contemporaries who chose Latin, French, and Italian.

Thus while Chaucer readapted the Romance genre, he (per usual) superimposed several other themes into the story, and since Romance seems to be an inaccurate label, a perhaps more suitable one would be to call the tale a roman d’aventure (16). This too serves as a link between Beowulf and the Tale of Gamelyn as they operate within the same genre, but cater to different audiences. The roman d’aventure differentiates between the matters of heroism of a French nation, which are typically enclosed in a chanson de geste, and those of the British that heavily rely on the epic hero tales, far removed from the everyday concerns of hoy polloi who will never encounter men of such grandeur, and who are not necessarily at ease with some of the implications of the warrior culture that overemphasizes the concept of glory. Chaucer succeeds in reconceptualizing Beowulf, readjusting the individual points for a modern audience as the narrative arcs remain congruent, moving away from the Anglo-Saxon epic to a romanticized version of heroism more appropriate for a fully Christianized era. This too is apparent from the beginning of both tales, recalling the catalogue of lineage that is used to introduce the characters. Whereas the Anglo-Saxons were oriented towards kinship and family to define the individual as indivisible from the group, the Christian era (without negating that Beowulf straddles and combines the pre and post Christian traditions) placed greater value on the soul, and consequently the individual as evidenced in the description of the personages. Beowulf comes from a line of nobility while Gamelyn’s line is significantly shorter, denoted by the description of his father’s “londe pat \he/ had [which] was verrey purchas,” meaning he was a self-made man, and any lineage Gamelyn may claim stops only one generation before, especially considering that his father’s father only possessed “plowes fyue.” As previously mentioned, Beowulf’s genealogy operates as his credentials when entering the Dane’s land, while Gamelyn must prove his worth physically, by himself.

Yet while these parallels may appear obvious, and even convincing, Chaucer’s authorship remains questioned. If he translated French and Latin and adapted from Ovid, Dante, and Petrarch (17), among others, then why is it so far fetched that he would look towards accomplishing the same ends with Old English texts? Further, there is absolutely no record of this tale being told anywhere else in medieval Europe (18). No other known author used this exact style, and even those opposed to Chaucer’s authorship for the tale will concede a similarity within the text to Chaucer’s hand. A few theorize that he did intend to use it in the Canterbury Tales, but had not yet finished making changes to it, with the implication that there was a text out there who no one other than Chaucer ever saw or knew about, and he was in the midst of copying it for his Canterbury Tales but never finished. While this is not impossible, it is highly unlikely. Few, if any dispute that the Tale of Gamelyn was within Chaucer’s stack of papers at death, but rather, they challenge his authorship or whether it was intended for the Canterbury Tales.

However, even in deciding Chaucer wrote the Tale of Gamelyn, and meant it for inclusion within the Canterbury Tales, there remains the question of its place within tale ordering. Every manuscript that contains the tale places it after the unfinished Cook’s Tale, which has in turn lead all those in favor of Chaucer’s authorship to stipulate that it was meant to belong to the Cook. Either the Cook would have a second tale, much like Chaucer the pilgrim (Thopas and Melibee) since just like Chaucer, the Cook did not finish his first tale, or as others speculate, the Tale of Gamelyn was meant to replace the unfinished Cook’s Tale.

The Cook, much like his tale, is incomplete. He is a character thrown in to serve a narrative purpose for others. He is the embodiment of the material wealth the five guildsmen possess, and just as unclean as the origin of their money. They may have had the wealth to pay a personal cook, but according to his description in the General Prologue and his later personal prologue, he is far from a private chef. Money does not breed discernment. As the Host later notes, his food is practically inedible, he is a churl worse than the Miller and Reeve combined, and on several occasions he must be awoken by others from his drunkenness, with even a slight hint that his tale is unfinished because he was physically incapable of completing it. In other words, this is not the man telling the complicated Tale of Gamelyn.

The second most popular claim for the Tale of Gamelyn is made in favor of the Canon. Since so little is known about the Canon who appears with his Yeoman out of nowhere, this is not an impossibility. However, I would like to propose that the Tale of Gamelyn is generally (with only one exception (19)) found near the top of the manuscripts for three reasons: it was meant to be its own fragment, to follow the Cook’s Tale, and it was told by the Yeoman (not to be confused with the Canon’s Yeoman). This last part has been previously addressed (20), but for different reasons, and consequently has been refuted. However, in following a progression of proper evidence it can be shown that the Yeoman as tale-teller leads to a logical conclusion.

To begin, according to an already established temporal scheme (20), the Man of Law’s Tale would be the first tale told on the second day of the trip. Thus Fragment I, preceding the Man of Law’s Prologue remains intact and ends on the first day. In between these two is where the Tale of Gamelyn is typically found because it was meant to be told at dusk on the first day, before the Man of Law would pick it up again the next morning. As previously mentioned, the Tale of Gamelyn does not neatly fit into any of the other sections, however, it does make for a good evening tale, especially when a complete theme is not yet established and groupings are not as of yet fully formed, pointing towards the beginning of the manuscript as an ideal position where order is yet an experiment and individual tales and/or fragments may be switched around. Also, from the first tale told it is apparent that the Canterbury Tales will be a compilation of new and previously written pieces considering that the reference to Arcite and Palemon acts as evidence that that Knight’s Tale was written before the General Prologue since these two characters were previously found in the Legend of Good Women (21). There is a good chance that Chaucer initially created the Tale of Gamelyn for another enterprise, but decided to include it into the Canterbury Tales, providing another reason it is separated from the other fragments. Having been loose from the rest it was easy to transfer. Nevertheless, it was to be included, and its placement within his papers at the exact place it appears or where room is left for a tale to be inserted is a reflection of where he intended it to go, despite not having yet assigned a character to tell it.

By process of elimination the best candidate for this tale, who has not yet told one, is the Yeoman. There is absolutely no indication of this throughout the Canterbury Tales, and there is no prologue to the Tale of the Gamelyn. The “return trip” argument will here remain untouched, not because it lacks merit, but rather because it needlessly complicates matters. So given that everyone was to tell at least one tale, from the pilgrims left within the General Prologue who have told no tale within any manuscript, the only ones left are the Yeoman, the five guilds men (Haberdassher, Carpentere, Webbe, Dyere, and Tapecere), and the Plowman.

The first and easiest to immediately eliminate would be the somber Plowman, whose brother, the Parson, gives a lengthy sermon on morality at the end. It would be quite a stretch to turn the Tale of Gamelyn into a morality tale, or overlook its violence. And while the Plowman would not necessarily be obligated to tell a tale in line with his brother’s, their descriptions in the General Prologue would insinuate otherwise.

As for the five guilds men, they are in the same class as the Merchant, but obviously better off financially than he is. While the praise they receive from the Host for their devotion to material goods is clearly satirical, it is more a commentary on the rising middle class of the day. This is a very elitist unfavorable portrait of this new station. However, in classifying them as such, it becomes unlikely that any one of them would tell a tale concerning noble lineage and inheritance. As aforementioned, Gamelyn did not descent from a long line of nobility, but nevertheless operated in accordance to the codes of the upper class – through his father’s accrual of land he found himself among the gentry. Moreover, his concerns were not monetary as much as concerned with justice and power that seem in line with the desires of the newly established middle class, but actually function differently in accordance with the codes of gentry. These five guildsmen would be unable to empathize with these matters of inheritance and law precisely because they have none and their class prided itself on having risen from nothing, from which Gamelyn is now removed.

This leaves the Yeoman, who is not wholly touched on in the General Prologue, but the seventeen lines attributed to his attire speak volumes. He is clearly a woodsman, a keeper of game, but his fine array of clothing place him close to wealth with the not so subtle indication that he may have acquired his wealth through less than moral means by stealing from precisely those he had promised to protect. While there have been discussions as to whether he is the Knight’s or the Squire’s yeoman, the most pertinent part of his position is that he possesses the manhood that both of these characters have displaced (22). As the keeper of masculinity for the now too fatigued Knight, and the all too boyish Squire, he occupies their space and it would be most fitting for him to tell a tale in which a fellow inhabitant of adjacent forests is championed and restored to society through his own acute prowess while gaining prominence for his feats and being allowed to maintain a socially condoned high ranking post among those in the woods. It is well recognized that the Tale of Gamelyn was a (if not the) predecessor to the Robin Hood tales, and thus allows for the fantasy that conflates outlawry with justice and acceptance.

Lastly, considering the Yeoman’s position in the General Prologue and reemphasizing how the early parts of the Canterbury Tales most likely lacked the same definition of theme found in later parts, it would be fitting for his tale to reside between the Knight and Squire, appropriate according to the ambiguity of his employment while also loosely functioning in line with the idea of chivalry and courtly comport (or the commentary in regards to such behavior) that is found within the neighboring tales.

Arguments for better placements of the Tale of Gamelyn may be made, but thus far the textual evidence of the plot and physical condition of the manuscripts suggest that the tale was very plausibly left along with other exemplars to be included not just within the Canterbury Tales, but in its current position, and told by the Yeoman. There is less to gain in attempting to refute this, but much to learn by looking at the twenty five witness manuscripts confirming it.

Sources (as they appear numbered in parentheses):

1. Manly, John Matthews, and Edith M. Rickert, eds. The Text of the Canterbury Tales, Studied on the Basis of all Known Manuscripts. 8 Vols. (primarily used Vol. 2)

2. Owen, Charles A. “Pre-1450 Manuscripts of the Canterbury Tales: Relationship and Significance. Part I.” The Chaucer Review. 23.1 (1988):  1-29.

3. Vasquez, Nila. The “Tale of Gamelyn” of the “Canterbury Tales”: An Annotated Edition. Wales:  The Edwin Mellon Press, 2009.

4. Fisher, Matthew. Scribal Authorship and the Writing of History in Medieval England. Ohio: UP, 2012.

5. Owen (“Pre-1450” again) and Stubbs, Estelle. “‘Here’s One I Prepared Earlier’: The Work on Scribe D on Oxford, Corpus Christi College MS 198.” The Review of English Studies. 58.234 (2007): 133-153.

6. Skeat, Walter W. ed. The Tale of Gamelyn. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1884.

7. Skeat, Walter W. The Tale of Gamelyn from the Harleian MS no. 7334, Collated with Six Other MSS. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1893.

8. Thaisen, Jacob. “The Merchant, the Squire, and Gamelyn in the Christ Church Chaucer Manuscript.” Notes and Queries. 55.3 (2008): 265-269.

9. Knight Stephen, and Thomas Ohlgren. eds. Robin Hood and Other Outlaw Tales. Michigan: Medieval Institute Publications, 1997.

10. Thaisen, Jacob. “Gamelyn’s Place among the Early Exemplars for Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales.” Neophilologues. 97.2 (2012): 395-415.

11. Heaney, Seamus. Beowulf. New York: W. W. Norton, 2000.

12. London, British Library MS Lansdowne 851. (partly digitized and the rest transcribed)

13. Horobin, Simon. The Language of the Chaucer Tradition. Cambridge: D.S. Brewer, 2003.

14. Bell, John. The Poets of Great Britain from Chaucer to Churchill. London: Printed for J. Bell 1777-79. 109 Vols.

15. Ramsey, Lee C. Chivalric Romances: Popular Literature n Medieval England. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1983.

16. Comfort, William Wistar. “The Essential Difference Between a Chanson de Geste and a Roman d’Aventure.” PMLA. 19 (1904): 64-74.

17. Fisher, John. The Complete Poetry and Prose of Geoffrey Chaucer. Tennessee: UP, 1977.

18. See Skeat, 1884.

19. Oxford, Bodleian Library MS Hatton Donat. 1 (partially digitized)

20. Brusendorff, Aage. The Chaucer Tradition. Oxford: UP, 1925.

21. Cooper, Helen. “The Order of the Tales.” The Ellesmere Chaucer: Essays in Interpretation. San Marino: Huntington Library Press, 1995.

22. Scala, Elizabeth. “Yeoman ServicesL Chaucer’s Knight, His Critics, and the Pleasures of Historicism.” The Chaucer Review. 24.2 (2010): 194-221.

The Female Scribe II

A few weeks ago I wrote this post exploring the idea of the female scribe. I won’t reiterate everything, but that post lead to several inquiries into what female writing meant during the Middle Ages. Matthew provided me with an excellent recommendation for a book that I just recently got a chance to finish. My ultimate goal for this project is to look into one of the earliest dated Lancelot manuscripts from 1274 (Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale MS fr. 342) which indicates its author as female. I want to determine to what extent (if any) the story was influenced through having a female scribe.  I think this calls for a close comparison between this telling of this story and several others to mark the differences. Honestly I am not entirely sure if that is the best approach, but for now this is the plan. However, before I can draw any conclusions, or even begin work with the primary texts I think it is important to first identify and understand the different ways women interacted with books and writing – which is precisely why Women and Writing c. 1340-1650 was so useful. This collection of pieces got me thinking of what writing represents and the ways it was used, or purposely not used (a point I found very interesting and will get to shortly).

One of the first articles in the book mentions translating – commonly done by women in the early modern period – which leads me to believe it was given to women even earlier than that as it was believed to be a simple (minimal) task where ideas from one language were conveyed in another – essentially another form of direct copying. This struck me as odd since anyone who has translated text will know there is a very fine (if not completely imaginary) line between translating and recreating, where if enough liberties are taken, entirely new ideas can be forged from existing text. Even when attempting fidelity towards the original, words in different languages often vary in connotation. This leads me to believe that it was not the task itself that was thought to be minimal, but rather that the women bid to translate were thought to be too dull to provide any reinterpretations of the original text. Yet I am not exactly convinced of this either since even pure translation is an arduous task, so I am having trouble consolidating that concept with the contradicting idea of woman as slow minded. Further, women were often publicly praised for their excellent translations that were widely circulated among women and men alike. As Gemma Allen notes, translation was but a stepping stone for women towards agency within writing while finding a means for furthering their own ideologies.

Again, this is a concept I can extrapolate into the earlier times of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries where female scribes (much like their male counterparts) participated in a culture of writing that thrived off deriving and creating meaning through textual emendation and manuscript mise en page. It appears that women often operated within this environment by annotating. While this was not direct authorship, as we receive those manuscripts today we cannot ignore the various marginalia left behind by generations of readers who interacted with the text. I would like to believe that it actually alters the way we read the text and begin viewing it through their eyes. And I cannot help but wonder: if they had been the copyist, what manuscript would we have now? In other words, how would they have amended the author’s words?

Only two chapters later I came to another point in the book that discussed the place within culture of the commonplace book, attempting to broaden the existing definition, or better yet, consolidating the multiple definitions loosely associated with the genre. However, the point I found most interesting was the “conflation of ‘Scribe’ and ‘Authour'” referring to a poem written by Henry King. While we can all accept that writing and reading are intricately tied, authorship (creation of ideas) and scribal activity (the physical act of reproducing ideas) are not always as tightly wound in our minds. Alright, I am going to apologize in advance, but to flush out my point as best I can I am going to have to bring in Derrida. I know very few people who care for literary theory, so I promise to be quick… but… in between the author’s words and the scribe’s hands there is a gap, or differance. Even when attempting fidelity towards the original words, scribes will inadvertently provide information about themselves and their surroundings: spelling will signal geographic regions; book hand will denote period and sometimes even place; depending on the language of the text, verbs will give away gender (etc.). The gap between the exemplar and manuscript is where meaning begins. It is where information is found. Most importantly, it is the onset of authorship where the text is transcribed/reproduced, with the idea of it being (re)created. With each addition, deletion, or edit, the result is always an addition, as in an additional meaning other than the original. And this is simply looking at the differences between exemplars and manuscripts that were created unintentionally. Now imagine if these gaps were produced purposefully where simple line omissions or changing of words could be used to reshape a story in order to include… well… anything… that the scribe, now author, wanted to.

Returning however, to my purposes here, I want to continue with my findings on the ways women and texts interacted. The next few discussions dealt with epistolary writing, long known to be a female endeavor. The letter however, is not solely a female activity as men have been using letter writing in the public and private spheres for just as long. Yet what I found interesting was not the ways in which women entered the public spheres with their letters such as was the case of Lady Rich who addressed Elizabeth I with fruitless results, but rather another instance where letter writing remained private. The particular practice mentioned in the book concerned a mother, Joan Thynne, and letters to her son for which she employed a scribe. While the reasoning behind her choice to use a scribe for private letters to her son were nuanced to this particular case and take into account the strained relationship they shared, it was the activity in general that I thought was interesting. It was not uncommon during the early modern period (and even earlier) for literate women to use scribes when writing personal letters.  I looked into Joan’s background a bit and while she was known for her prolific letter writing, most research that has been conducted on her studies the letters she wrote to her sister and her daughter in law, offering glimpses into the various relationships she had with those related to her.

Hiring a scribe didn’t always have to do with hiring someone who could do something that the person could not – many times professionals were (and still are) hired despite a person’s ability to complete a task. Scribes offered services like many other professionals, and the ability to hire one could be construed as a status symbol. However, I also see it as a means  of using something created professionally in order to establish credibility, or even more simply to produce a work that is better assembled or more aesthetically pleasing than would be possible by a layman. Similarly, just like it was a common trope for women to apologize for their handwriting (regardless of whether it was legible/neat or not), it was also common for them to feel their writing was somehow inferior, or worthy of less regard. However, by packaging their words differently, as in with the use of a scribe, their letters would in a sense carry more weight. In other words, the female amateur voice would be translated into a professionally polished one.

In short, the refusal to author a letter, despite the ability to do so, was a rejection of self-conscious feelings. Coincidentally the article on Joan Thynne that produced these ideas for me was also the last piece in the book and got my mind circling back to the relationship between women and writing, or the implications of women as scribes. These two figures are not mutually exclusive, and when consolidating the image of female and scribe a third, rather ambiguous figure emerges. Did the female scribe gain confidence within her double role? As a scribe often working anonymously she could present her words in a genderless domain and with the same authority than a male voice would sustain.

Then, did she understand her power to manipulate text through copying? Or did her insecurities get portrayed within her writing?

Also, what impact (if any) did the role of scribe have on her identity as a female? Looking specifically at the Lancelot scribe, little is known about her which makes it very difficult to discern how she interacted with her text, or what factors in her life could have impressed upon her. Also, very little is known about the manuscript. It is not fully digitized (which will obviously pose quite a few problems for my own research later on), and from what I have found, the manuscript is most revered for its 92 elaborate illuminations, not it’s text (which to my knowledge has not been transcribed either).

Queste-del-saint-graal-Paris-BnF-fr.-342-fol.-102v-13th-c.-500x178

BnF MS. fr. 342 f. 102v – an example of one of the colorful images that spans across two columns. The images are interspersed throughout the text illustrating the various scenes as they are described in words. This is the representation of the tournament in which Lancelot mistakenly takes part  in Queste del Saint Graal.

Here is a full page- f. 39v – The portrait of Agloval finding his mother is depicted at the bottom.

ConsulterElementNum

 

This same technique of portraying miniatures across columns was also prevalent in another Lancelot manuscript produced in 1280 by Walterus de Kayo, and coincidentally in the same town as the manuscript I am interested in (which I will discuss in a bit). The town is not large and the time difference between manuscripts is not very big (6 years), so there must be a connection between them. I researched Walter to try to find out how he may be connected to the female scribe, but all I gathered was that his name roughly translates to Walter of the Warriors. I am going to have to leave this alone for now.

Obviously a lot more digging is going to have to go into culling out any information about this manuscript. And I realize I may not find anything specific about that Lancelot female scribe, however, I might be able to piece together some generalizations about females and writing in a broader sense should I be able to pursue this further.

In the meantime, I found another interesting piece that could perhaps be applied in a more universal sense to women of the time period. First, from what little I could find out about the Lancelot female scribe (from this amazing online Lancelot project resource), it appears the manuscript may have been produced in Douai. Although the town is now in what is considered northern France, that territory was not always under French rule. During the Middle Ages it appears the largest construction in the city was the church of Notre Dame (not to be confused with the much larger cathedral that is nowhere near here) that was built in 1175.

These are some photographs I found of it as it looks now (it has been rebuilt several times since the 13th century and the original building was far smaller). For even more lovely pictures of church, go here:

DouaiND01

640px-Douai_-_Église_Notre-Dame_-_16

 

Anyway, this digression lead me to poke around the history of Douai, noticing that aside from the church, nothing else was really happening in the city during that time period, and according to historians like Uge, there appears to be almost no documentation, leaving the history of the area to become quite a mystery.  Records didn’t really appear about the town until almost two hundred and fifty years later when it flourished with various enterprises, including a lucrative textile business. So, while this is complete conjecture, I have a hunch the Lancelot scribe may have been a nun, or closely related to the church that the entire town seemed to center around. However, since the church has now burned down on several occasions and has been continuously rebuilt, I don’t know if it had a scriptorium around the late 13th century(even though one would not absolutely be needed for the production of a manuscript). Also, I would be interested to know when and from where the BnF procured the manuscript (meaning, it obviously didn’t get damaged or destroyed by the various calamities the church went through, so if it’s travel history does not match the different known events of the church, then it may not have been produced there).

To wrap this up, my findings on the town of Douai along with my speculation that the Lancelot scribe could have been a nun could lead to an investigation into what being a nun at the time, and in that region meant. This is a rather large leap that will require quite a bit more research, but in looking at what it meant to be a woman in the Middle Ages I found a reference to Aethelberht’s laws. I won’t go into too much detail here since this post is already running far longer than I intended, but I promise another one soon which will better address my connection between the significance of these laws, being a nun, and the ramifications of partaking in scribal endeavors. However, briefly, the laws are concerned with defining a woman’s worth, and notably “maegpbot sy swa friges mannes” (a maiden’s worth is equal to that of a man), and a “friwif” is, as her name indicates, independent for one reason or another. A nun would fall under either of these conditions, either a maiden from the start, or released from relations with men at a later time. In the hierarchy of worth, according to Aethelberht, these would be the highest ranked women. Basically I want to explore how (or if) perceiving themselves according to this value system would imbue these women with the necessary assurance to commit words to paper (or parchment, or vellum) in a mode uncharacteristic of women in different stations or spheres.

While I seem to be no closer to working with my primary texts or finding any definite answers, I have to say all the research that has gone into the female scribe project has been quite some fun, and I look forward to continuing along.

Sources:

Busby, Keith, ed. Les Manuscrits de Chretien de Troyes. Vol. 1

Frappier, Jean. La mort le roi Artu: roman du XIIIe siecle.

Lacy, Norris J. The Fortunes of King Arthur.

Lawrence-Mathers, Anne and Phillipa Hardman, eds. Women and Writing c. 1340-1650.

Littleton, Scott. From Scinthya to Camelot: A Radical Reassessment of the Legends of King Arthur. 

Pasternak, Carol Braun. “Negotiating Gender in Anglo-Saxon England.”

Uge, Karine. Creating the Monastic Past in Medieval Flanders.

van Houts, Elizabeth. “Women and the Writing of history in the early Middle Ages: the case of Abbess Matilda of Essen and Aethelweard.”

Williams, John. Women’s Epistolary Utterance: A study of the letters of Joan and Maria Thynne, 1575-1611.

Charles D’Orleans, Continued

About a week ago I wrote this post looking at Charles D’Orlean’s poem “Le temps a laissie son manteau,” and I was left with quite a few questions about the work, leading me to search out what is currently considered one of the most authoritative books on the subject (Poetry of Charles D’Orleans and His Circle by John Fox and Mary-Jo Arn) (and a great thank you to Jenni for taking the time to look at the Bodleian for me).

I immediately looked up the poem in the book, and found another translation than the one I previously posted by Stanley Appelbaum. This one is translated by R. Barton Palmer:

orleans_poem

Both translations have their charm, and while neither is perfect I think they complement each other quite nicely.

However, the main question I had was a paleographic one. This the picture and original text from my blog last week:

charles d'orleans

 

I cannot tell for certain, but it appears two different hands worked on this text. The last five lines seem less careful than the first part, indicating that perhaps the first part was copied, while the latter writer was more confident and less concerned with making mistakes. Of course this is complete conjecture since the picture is not of the best quality, nor have I been able to find where it comes from, and it doesn’t help that the picture provided is not in color (the MS in question is written in predominantly red and redish brown ink).  Also, it makes little sense as to why two people would split such a short poem. However, what I can say with more certainty is that this handwriting (top or bottom) of my picture is unlike MS 25458.

It turns out I was both right and wrong.

My first problem was with identifying the correct manuscript. Every source for the manuscript gave the correct number, but when running a search for MS 25458 on the Bibliotheque Nationale’s manuscript search, a different manuscript popped up, MS 19139. This is the MS I was referencing in the above passage – it has Charles D’Orleans works, and in the title MS 25458 is mentioned in parentheses. Very little exists on this MS except that it was an attempted replica of the original works D’Orleans, created by Garencieres and Chartier. However, the poems are not kept in the same order, some are missing, and it is constructed completely differently (hence my confusion of why none of the pictures I was finding of MS 25458 looked like the digitized one I found on the library website – however it has also been argued by Arn that the poems in MS 25458 are not in the order D’Orleans initially intended – a different argument altogether). Another thing that I found odd is that the imitation has been digitized, but not the original. In fact, two of D’Orlean’s most famous manuscripts cannot be found online, and only black and white copies exist of snippets of selected poems (the other being BL MS Harley 682).

Another small picture of MS 25458 I found in the Fox and Arn book looks very similar to my first sample:

dorleans_poem1

 

However, there is a difference which I know is difficult to decipher providing how terrible the copies are, but the handwriting is definitely not the same, specifically throughout the first poem. In fact, the entirety of the manuscript is written in several hands in black ink with two main hands composing the majority of the work while the rest curiously interject throughout the verses only to add a few lines sparingly. This makes it quite possible that what I am seeing in the facsimile is accurate. Then, according to Patricia Stirnemann, the manuscript dates prior to the duke returning to France and was most likely written and commissioned while he was still in English custody, thus before 1440. If this is the case, then this also accounts for the disparity in handwriting. If the book of French verses was made in England, then the copyist may not have been completely familiar with the language, therefore prone to be much more careful with the copying. Nevertheless this does not address why the latter part of the poem is in a different, less careful (more cursive) style.

Another work I found about this manuscript was by J. Marie Guichard who presents all the poems and discusses who he believes was responsible for physically writing them into the manuscript – while the majority of the poems contain names underneath the titles, “Le temps” does not, meaning the writing could not be identified. And even though this does not tell us who wrote the poem, it implies that the writing belongs to someone who had not yet contributed to the manuscript, referring to the primary scribe and the duke. It has been noted by Arn and Fox that in all the texts Charles writes, he does so in a “very regular cursive Gothic book script,” which can be found at the end of the poem. However, the first part of the poem is closer to French Secretary. This would account for Guichard’s  lack of name attribution to the poem, especially if he only allotted a cursory glance to the handwriting of each (which he can hardly be faulted for since he was not attempting to write a book on paleographic evidence of the manuscript, and again, the way the verses were split among writers does not make the most logical sense). My first assumption is that the poem was not finished at the time of copying and so space was left at the bottom (and I suppose this is an obvious enough conclusion revealing a pattern found often throughout manuscripts). Which brings me to my second assumption; as I mentioned earlier, I believe the bottom  half of the poem was written by someone with more confidence in his writing, meaning that those last few lines were written in the same Gothic book script described by Arn and Fox, and that they were written in by the duke. He would not necessarily be copying his own work from a different source, or if he was, he would be familiar enough to where his hand would move with more freedom, unrestricted by the same fear of mistakes that a straight copyist might exhibit.

Lastly, there appears to be a disparity between what scholars believe to be the purpose of the manuscript. I have read that it was meant for personal use, and to be kept as a journal by Charles, but also that it was meant to be given as a gift. While this might seem trivial, the purpose for which the manuscript was made could potentially bolster an argument for how much time was to be spent on it, and with how much care it would be executed. Yet the fact that he had another commissioned to write the text demonstrates some meticulous precision on his part. In other words, even if he intended it for private use, he wanted to create a piece of art, and not simply rely on his own journal-like entries.

However, this is as much as I can possibly say without having seen any of the main manuscripts, and there currently doesn’t appear to be any published researched as to who copied each piece of the manuscript (and I say “published” because I am sure the research exists at least privately, especially considering the depth of detail Arn went into when annotating the Harley MS. I am almost certain she did similar with MS 25458 when writing the paleographic chapters in her most recent book – or at the very least is working on it some more now).

Also, should anyone be interested in the overarching themes within the poetry (quite a spectacular show), please refer to the Fox and Arn reference (below), as they have done a marvelous job of it.

Should anyone want to investigate any of this further, here is a list of the largest, or best known collections of Charles D’Orlean’s works (this is not an exhaustive list of all extant manuscripts containing his work):

Bibliotheque Nationale Fr. MS 25854 (not digitized)

Bibliotheque Nationale Fr. MS 19139 (digitized here)

Bibliotheque Nationale Fr. MS 1104 (not digitized)

Bibliotheque de l’Arsenal, MS 2017 (not digitized)

BL MS Harley 682 (not digitized)

BL MS Harley 6916 (not digitized)

BL MS Lansdowne 380 (not digitized)

BL MS Royal 16 F.ii (selected images here)

Bibliotheque de Grenoble MS 873 (not digitized)

Bibliotheque Inguimbertine, Carpentras MS 375 (not digitized)

 

Sources:

Arn, Mary-Jo. Charles d’Orleans and the Poems of BL Ms Harley 682.

Arn, Mary-Jo. Charles d’Orleans in England 1415-1440.

Arn, Mary-Jo and John Fox. Poetry of Charles D’Orleans and His Circle

Avril, Francois, and Patricia Stirnemann. Manuscrits elumine d’origin insulaire, VII-XXe siecle.

Gauchiard, J. Marie. Poesies de Charles d’Orleans.