Medicine, Astronomy, Affixes And Others: An Account Of Verb Formation In Some Early Scientific Works.

SELIM Journal of the Spanish Society for Medieval English Language and Literature Revista de la Sociedad Española de Lengua y Literatura Inglesa Medieval Nº 13, 2005-2006 Contents ARTICLES Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes (University of Jaén): Old English ditransitive adjectives. 9 Teresa Marqués Aguado (University of Málaga): Old English punctuation revisited: the case of the Gospel according to Saint Matthew. 47 M. R. Rambaran-Olm (University of Glasgow): Is the title of the Old English poem The Descent into Hell suitable? 69 Ignacio Murillo López (University of Salamanca): Cynewulf and Cyneheard: a different style for a different story. 83 Francisco Javier Álvarez López (Universities of Manchester & Vigo): The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle 755: an annotated bibliography of the Cynewulf and Cyneheard episode from Plummer to Bremmer. 95 Maurizio Gotti (University of Bergamo): The Middle English chapter on the ‘modal story’. 115 María José Carrillo Linares (University of Huelva): Lexical dialectal items in Cursor Mundi: contexts of occurrence and geographical distribution. 149 3 Begoña Crespo & Isabel Moskowich-Spiegel (University of Corunna): Medicine, Astronomy, affixes and others: an account of verb formation in some early scientific works. 181 Edurne Garrido Anes (University of Huelva): Manuscript relations through form and content in the Middle English Circa Instans. 201 Carmen María Fernández Rodríguez (University of Corunna): New contexts for the classics: wanderers and revolutionaries in the tales of the Franklin and the Clerk. 227 NOTES Andrew Breeze (University of Navarre): The Lollard Disestablishment Bill and Rocester, Staffordshire. 253 Andrew Breeze (University of Navarre): Bune ‘Maiden, Beloved’ in Ancrene Wisse. 257 Andrew Breeze (University of Navarre): Deale ‘Take note’ in Ancrene Wisse. 261 Andrew Breeze (University of Navarre): Nurd ‘Uproar’ in the AB Language. 263 Andrew Breeze (University of Navarre): Rung ‘Arise’ in Ancrene Wisse. 267 REVIEWS & NOTICES Rebeca Cubas Peña (University of La Laguna): Suzanne C. Hagedorn 2004: Abandoned Women: Rewriting the Classics in Dante, Boccaccio and Chaucer. Mariano González Campo (University of Murcia): Höskuldur Thráinsson, Hjalmar P. Petersen, Jógvan í Lon Jacobsen & 4 271 Zakaris Svabo Hansen (eds.) 2004: Faroese. An Overview and Reference Grammar. 277 Judit Martínez Magaz (University of León): Isabel Moskowich-Spiegel Fandiño & Begoña Crespo García 2004: New Trends in English Historical Linguistics: An Atlantic View. 285 Isabel Moskowich-Spiegel (University of Corunna): Cristina Mourón Figueroa 2005: El ciclo de York. Sociedad y cultura en la Inglaterra bajomedieval. 289 Editors’ note 297 Selim Stylesheet & publications policy 298 *†* 5 ARTICLES 7 OLD ENGLISH DITRANSITIVE ADJECTIVES1 Abstract This article describes Old English ditransitive adjectives, that is, adjectives that license two complements and which may therefore be considered as three-argument predicates. One argument always surfaces as a nominative noun phrase functioning as clausal subject. The other two arguments are complements of the adjective and are realized as inflected noun phrases, prepositional phrases or clauses. The number of Old English adjectives that may be considered to be ditransitive is small, as is also the case in Present-Day English. They denote such concepts as “gratitude,” “generosity and abundance,” “forgiveness,” “obedience,” “guilt and responsibility,” “deserving,” “agreement,” and “similarity.” I provide a hopefully complete list of these ditransitive adjectives, describe their semantic (argumental) and syntactic (complementational) patterns, contrast them with those of synonyms or of semantically- and lexically-related adjectives, and show how this grammatical and semantic information may be encoded in a lexicon of adjectival complementation. Keywords: adjective, argument, case, complement, complementation, ditransitive, lexicography, Old English, role, semantics, syntax, transitive. Resumen Este artículo describe los adjetivos ditransitivos del Inglés Antiguo, es decir, los adjetivos que admiten dos complementos y que, por lo tanto, pueden considerarse como predicados con triple argumento. Un argumento se presenta siempre como un sintagma nominal en caso nominativo cuya función es la de sujeto oracional. Los otros dos argumentos son complementos del adjetivo y se realizan como sintagmas nominales marcados, sintagmas preposicionales u oraciones subordinadas. El número de adjetivos que pueden considerarse ditransitivos es reducido, tanto en Inglés Antiguo como en Inglés Contemporáneo. Se refieren a conceptos como “gratitud”, “generosidad y abundancia”, “perdón”, “obediencia”, “culpa y responsabilidad”, “merecimiento”, “acuerdo” y “similaridad”. El artículo muestra una lista de estos adjetivos que aspira a ser completa, describe sus patrones semánticos (argumentales) y sintácticos (complementación), los contrasta con los patrones de adjetivos sinónimos o adjetivos relacionados semántica o sintácticamente, y muestra cómo esta información semántica y gramatical puede ser codificada en un lexicón de complementación adjetiva. Palabras clave: adjetivo, argumento, caso, complementación, complemento, ditransitivo, inglés antiguo, lexicografía, rol, semántica, sintaxis, transitivo. 1 I express my gratitude to my anonymous referees for many corrections and suggestions for improvement, and to Dr. Belén Méndez Naya and Dr. María José López Couso of the Universidade de Santiago de Compostela for their encouragement and wise criticism at the 18th SELIM Conference in Málaga, where I delivered a preliminary version of this article. Naturally, all errors remain solely mine. I also acknowledge the financial support provided by the Universidad de Jaén and the Junta de Andalucía for a research period at the Centre for Medieval Studies (University of Toronto) in 2006, which has enabled me to further my investigation on Old English adjectives. Last, but not least, I also wish to convey my sincere gratitude to Prof. Antonette di Paolo Healey, for allowing me to use the facilities and resources of the Dictionary of Old English Project, and to Dr. Ian McDougall and Dr. David McDougall for valuable commentaries on many examples cited and not cited in this article. Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes, Selim 13 (2005-2006): 9—46 Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes INTRODUCTION OBJECTIVES This article has a twofold objective. On the one hand, it purports to give a fairly complete list of Old English (OE, henceforth) adjectives which are used as predicates in combination with a verb (bēon “be,” weorþan “be, become”, standan “stand,” wunian “remain,” …) and which can be considered as ditransitive, together with a detailed description of their semantic and syntactic configuration. On the other hand, it shows how the information resulting from this analysis may be recorded in a dictionary of adjectival complementation in OE. These two objectives are intertwined throughout the article and complement each other, since the analysis I posit for these adjectives is put to use as a major classifying parameter of adjectives and entry sections in the dictionary. To my knowledge, neither of these aims has been the subject of any monographic research in OE linguistic and lexicographic studies.2 This lexicon3 organizes 2 The two main dictionaries of Old English — the 19th century Dictionary of Anglo-Saxon (Bosworth & Toller, henceforth) and Dictionary of Old English in Electronic Form (DOE, henceforth) — either do not provide information on the syntactic potential of adjectives or on their argumental structure, or do so indirectly, or in different sections and at different levels within the entries. For example, the DOE does not systematically and explicitly distinguish between the predicative and the attributive (noun-modifying) usage of the adjective, a type of information which is only gathered from reading the examples, but which should — in my opinion — be stated explicitly for each headword or sense. As for the Oxford English Dictionary (OED, henceforth), it provides longer definitions, sometimes in combination with translation equivalents. However, one single definition often covers all the different meanings of the adjectives, irrespective of the fact that, depending on the meaning, the adjective may show different argumental and syntactic requirements. In short, not all complementational patterns are illustrated for each major period in the history of English. For example, s.v. guilty, the definition provided in the OED for sense 1 (the only one that goes back to the OE period) reads “That has offended or been in fault; delinquent, criminal. Now in stronger sense: That has incurred guilt; deserving punishment and moral reprobation; culpable”. However, only one example corresponding to the OE period is included, and it does not have a complement. I therefore believe that a dictionary or lexicon dealing exclusively with adjectival complementation in OE is pertinent and certainly needed. 10 Old English ditransitive adjectives entries at three levels: syntactic function of the adjective (attributive, postpositive or predicative), sense, semantic frame and syntactic structure. One major feature of this lexicon is that it provides synonyms, quasi-synonyms and antonyms for each sense of an adjective in order to facilitate quick comparison between the adjectives belonging to the same lexical class. It also provides definitions worded in a paraphrase-like manner.4 The reason why I have included in this article a sample dictionary entry along these lines for one adjective per semantic class of ditransitive adjectives is to demonstrate the practical value of my analysis of OE three-place or ditransitive adjectives. I will first define ditransitive adjectives (section 1), the case labels I have used (section 2), and show the different structures of the complements (section 3). I then present the various semantic classes and their members (section 4). Each of the following sections (5–6) contains a detailed analysis of one representative adjective of the class, a sample dictionary entry, a comparison of the semantic and syntactic properties of different adjectives of the class (secondary or side issues are briefly dealt with in notes), and tables summarizing their complementational patterns and the realization of the arguments. Finally I present an overall summary and my conclusions in section 7. 1.- INTRANSITIVE, TRANSITIVE AND DITRANSITIVE ADJECTIVES 3 A similar project was recently published for Present-Day English: Herbst’s (2004) valency dictionary, which, however, does not include argument labels and deals with other word-classes as well. 4 Thus, unlike the DOE or Bosworth & Toller, which s.v. cystig, say “charitable, generous, munificent, liberal, bountiful” and “munificent, benevolent, bountiful, liberal, generous, good”, respectively, I propose the following definition “willing to give and share things”, while the PDE adjectives would still be included in a special field for translation equivalents. 11 Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes It is first necessary to define the terms intransitive, transitive and ditransitive in order to delimit the type of adjectives described in this article.5 Intransitive adjectives are those which are semantically self-sufficient and require no complementation, such as academic, neuter, bald or enormous. The vast majority of OE and PDE are intransitive since they do not require a complement to complete their semantic potential. A transitive adjective is one whose semantic reading is vague and has to be restricted by means of a complementing structure, that is, adjectives which are not semantically full and which syntactically need a complementing structure, no matter whether this complement is a noun phrase (NP), a prepositional phrase (PP) or a clause, such as anxious, delighted, devoid, fond, keen, mindful, proud or worth. The surface realization of the non-subject argument may be obligatory or optional. Thus, georn “ready and willing” has a THEME argument which is syntactically obligatory, there being no tokens without a complement in the TOEC. Other adjectives also have this argument in their semantic structure, but its appearance in the surface does not seem to be compulsory. This is the case of ofergytol “forgetful”, which is found with and without a complement representing the THEME argument; see example (1)6. Transitive adjectives must therefore be seen a divalent or two-argument predicates. The other argument in example (1) is an EXPERIENCER, realized by the syntactic subject. (1) gecwomun ðegnas hisSub [...] ofergeotole weron þæt hia hlafas onfengonComp (came his disciples [...] forgetful were that they loaves had taken) (MtGl (Li) 16.5) 5 See Comesaña-Rincón, 1986: 276, 287 and ff., 1998: 194, 2001a: 35 and ff. for the application of these terms to adjectives. As terms applied to verbs, see Bolinger and Sears 1981: 85, Quirk & al. 1985: 1176 and ff., 1220 and ff., Trask 1993: 284, Biber & al. 2002: 47, and Huddleston and Pullum, 2002: 218–219, 542–543). 6 All my examples are excerpted from citations in the Dictionary of Old English Corpus (DOEC, henceforth). I offer word-by-word translations, except when too literal a rendering would hinder comprehension or be too conspicuously agrammatical. 12 Old English ditransitive adjectives Transitive adjectives may be subdivided further into mono-transitive, which have only one complement, as in the above example, and ditransitive, which have two complements, such accountable or responsible. However, in this article the term ditransitive does not refer to the obligatory presence of two complements in the syntactic structure, but to the potential surfacing of either or both complements. Thus example (2) contains two complements, but (3) contains none. Yet, both are ditransitive, for it is the presence in the semantic structure of two arguments that is meant, whether overt or covert. In other words, ditransitive adjectives are trivalent or three-place adjectival predicates. (2) himComp1 ealraComp2 wæs araComp2 este ælmihtig godSub (to them in all favours was generous almighty God) (GenA,B 1503) (3) Beoð þancfulle (Be thankful) (ÆCHom I, 39, 606.18) Comesaña-Rincón (ibid.) also identifies pseudo-intransitive adjectives, which have a non-surfacing argument, such as ambitious or identical, corresponding to gelīc “similar” in example (4); and pseudo-transitive, which are accompanied by a complement-looking structure which does not actually belong to the semantic argument frame of the adjective, such as likely, acceptable, or difficult, corresponding to the adjectives toweard “imminent”, andfenge “acceptable”, and earfoþe “difficult” and eaþe “easy” in examples (5) to (8), respectively. I do not wholly agree with Comesaña-Rincón concerning pseudo-intransitive and pseudo-transitive adjectives. I believe that the dative NP him in example (6) is an argument (EXPERIENCER) of the adjective that optionally surfaces as its complement. Likewise, the infinitive clauses, to understandenne “to understand” and to slidenne “to fall” in examples (7) and (8) also belong to the semantic structure of the adjective (SCOPE) and must be seen as complements of the adjective. What is more, I believe that there are grounds to consider some of these adjectives, such as gelīc (or even eaþe), as ditransitive adjectives, as we shall see further down (and in note 23). However, it is necessary first to define the meaning of the arguments, cases or semantic roles that I will be using in my description. 13 Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes (4) Ures Drihtnes dæda and þæs deoflesSub [...] ne beon gelice (Our Lord’s works and the devil’s […] are not similar) (ÆHom 4 200) (5) se þe on þysne middeneard toweard is to cumeneComp (he who to this earth near is to come) (Notes 21 (Warn) 7) (6) se þe ondræt hyne ⁊ wyrcð rihtwisnysseSub andfencge ys himComp (he who fears him & does justice acceptable is to Him) (LibSc 59.4) (7) Swa wæs seo ealde .æ.Sub swiðe earfoðe and digle to understandenneComp (So was the old law very difficult and obscure to understand) (ÆCHom I,12, 188.6) (8) Forlæten we […] æghwylce synne þissum gelice þaSub þæm lichomanComp Comp bið eaþe in to slidenne (Let us abandon […] all sins to these similar which [for] the body are easy to fall in) (HomU 15.1 (Scragg) 126) 2.- SEMANTIC ROLES In order to identify the different participants involved in the predication I will use a set of case labels, which have been current in the linguistic literature ever since they were originally proposed by Fillmore (1968). The definitions I offer for the cases I use are almost standard now, but they mainly draw on Cook (1998: 10–18), Comesaña-Rincón (2001b), and, in the case of the SCOPE, Tucker (1998). AGENT This is the case label for the participant which produces the action or process conveyed by the adjective predicate. The referent of this participant is normally personal, but it may also be inanimate, thus including other cases, such as INSTRUMENT, FORCE or CAUSE, which I will not use in this article. Examples: AGENT (9) And ðonne age we mycle þearfe þæt weSub= costnunga 14 […] a wære beon wið deofles Old English ditransitive adjectives (And then it is very necessary that we […] always vigilant be against the devil’s temptations) (LitBen 7.8 (Ure) 20) Although agency is a concept usually associated with verbs and the actions they denote, there is a strong case for labelling as AGENT the argument of adjective predicates liable to be considered as process or action predicates, which often happens when the verb — the copula — is in the imperative mood, or if there is a participant affected by the action, whether actual or implied. In other words, the subject actively engages in an action. Thus, the meaning of the adjective predicate in example (10) is “act with clemency / leniently.” AGENT (10) Þonne byð us godSub=NP= milde, and bliþe (HomM 7 (Then will be [to] us God mild and clement) (KerTibC 1) 34) THEME This argument basically refers to the participant described, an entity which is involved, consciously or unconsciously, in the state of affairs. In example (11), the THEME surfaces as subject and is untainted by other meanings. However, in example (12), “se ende” may be seen as both as AGENT and THEME, since it is the participant being described and also the participant producing some kind of effect upon another participant. Finally, the THEME may also manifest itself as a complement (example (13)). THEME (11) Eustachies wifSub= swiðe fæger wæs (Eustace’s wife very beautiful was) (LS 8 (Eust) 165) THEME/AGENT wearð earm and þrealic (12) HimComp se endeSub= (To him the end was miserable and woeful) (Seasons 17) THEME (13) SefaSub wæs þe glædra þæs þe heo gehyrdeComp= (Spirit was the gladder [on account of] that which he [had] heard) (El 955) EXPERIENCER 15 Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes This is the participant that experiences a sensation, an emotion or a cognitive process. It can surface as the subject of the clause (example (14)) or as the complement of the adjective (example (12) above). EXPERIENCER/THEME (14) Ðonne heSub= wæs hungrig ⁊ þurstig, heo hine estlice gefylde (When he was hungry & thirsty, she him generously filled) (LS 22 (InFestisSMarie) 113) With “sensation” adjectives, the subject may be both the EXPERIENCER and the THEME (example (14) above), where “he” is at the same time the entity described and the entity affected by the meanings conveyed by the adjectives. However, since hungrig and þurstig are inherently experiential, the participant experiencing these sensations are best labelled as EXPERIENCERS. On the other hand, with “emotion” and “cognition” adjectives, the THEME is a complement and it expresses the content of the experience. This complement is optional for “emotion” adjectives, that is, the argument may be covert (example (15)) or overt (example (16)). However, it is obligatory with “cognition” adjectives (example (17)). (15) ne beo geSub=EXPERIENCER dreorige: ne afyrhte (don’t you be distressed nor afraid) (ÆCHom I, 29, 432.29) (16) Þa wæs heoSub=EXPERIENCER […] swiðe gedrefed bi swelcum witedomeComp=THEME ⁊ forht geworden (Then was she […] very frightened on account of such prophecy and troubled became) (Bede 4 26.352.29) EXPERIENCER THEME wæs þæs gefeohtesComp= (17) ægþer þara folcaSub= (both peoples were for the fight eager) (Or3 8.67.11) georn BENEFICIARY This is the participant, always personal, that is affected positively or negatively by the emotion felt or the behaviour or attitude shown by the AGENT towards it. This AGENT may also be considered as EXPERIENCER, insofar as it is the participant that experiences the emotion towards the 16 Old English ditransitive adjectives BENEFICIARY and acts accordingly. However, since this emotion (e.g., gratitude, generosity, forgiveness or obedience) is normally expressed through some kind of active or willing behaviour, I prefer to keep the label AGENT. The BENEFICIARY normally surfaces as a dative NP, as in example (18): AGENT (18) heoSub= THEME her […] his ðrowunge ⁊ his eadmodnesseComp1= […] BENEFICIARY himComp2= þoncfulle wæren (they here [for] his suffering & his humility [to] him thankful were) (HomU 2 (Belf 11) 116) SCOPE This case specifies the extent to which the meaning conveyed by the adjective is valid. Although debatable, I believe it must be included in the semantic frame of adjectives whose meaning is too general or vague to be left without any further specification for the proposition to make sense. In fact, the more general the meaning, the more necessary it seems to be. Thus, in example (19) the meaning of genōh is semantically incomplete without the SCOPE, and the infinitive tō healdenne should be seen as an optional complement realizing this argument. The same might be said of the anhydig in example (20). (19) twydæglic fæsten oðþe þreodæglic fæstenSub=THEME is genoh to healdenneComp=SCOPE (two-day-long fast or three-day-long fast is enough to hold) (Bede 4 26.350.31) (20) þær se halga þeowSub=THEME elnesComp=SCOPE anhydig eard weardade (there the holy servant [of] courage resolute the land guarded) (GuthA,B 894) LOCATIVE This is the entity where the state of affairs exists. Not many adjectival predicates contain this argument in their semantic structure (and with many of them it is figuratively that we must understand it): only those referring to spatial relations (andweard “present,” feor “far,” gehende “near,” neah “near”) and 17 Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes those expressing lack or abundance of something (full “full,” genyhtsum “abundant,” rūmgifol “abundant,” rūmlīc “abundant,” spēdig “abundant,” wana “lacking,” welig “abundant”). In the case of the “proximity” adjectives, both the subject and the complement can be considered as THEME and LOCATIVE at the same time. In fact, the participants may exchange their syntactic functions, with no semantic alteration of the proposition, apart from the focus. Example (21) can be rewritten as (22).7 As for the “abundance” adjectives, the THEME and the LOCATIVE can both surface as either subject or complement; see examples (23) and (24). (21) HeSub=THEME/LOCATIVE wæs gehende þam scipeComp=THEME/LOCATIVE (He was near [to] the ship) (Jn (Nap) 6.19) (22) *Þæt scipSub=THEME/LOCATIVE wæs himComp=THEME/LOCATIVE gehende (The ship was [to] him near) (23) Hit is welig þis ealondSub=LOCATIVE on wæstmum ⁊ on treowum misenlicra cynnaComp=THEME (It is fruitful this island in fruits & in trees [of] different kinds) (Bede 1 0.26.2) THEME LOCATIVE is betweoxn eowComp= suiðe genyhtsumu (24) eower lufuSub= (your love is between you very abundant) (CP 32.213.7) 3.- TYPES OF SYNTACTIC COMPLEMENTS The different types of structures that adjectival complements adopt are the following: a. A genitive NP (georn deadra manna feos “eager [for] dead men’s property”, HomS 14 (BlHom4) 70), a dative NP (Azarias […] dædum georn “Azariah […] [in] deeds ardent”, Az 1), and in a few instances an accusative NP (ælc þæra wita wyrðe “[to] each of the fines entitled”, 7 The asterisk in this article indicates that the example is not attested, but made up for illustrative or comparison purposes. 18 Old English ditransitive adjectives LawIAtr 1.14)) or an instrumental NP (þy hade […] wyrðne “[of] the office […] worthy”, Bede 4 2.260.3). b. A Prepositional Phrase (georne […] ymbe godra manna þearfe “diligent […] about good men’s need”, Bo 7.18.16). c. A clause, whether finite (georne ne gewilnigende þæt þine deda halige gesæde beon ær hi halige gewurðan “eager nor desirous that your actions holy should be called before they holy become”, Conf 1.4 (Logeman) 68) or nonfinite (inflected or simple infinitive) (geornful to witanne þætte ær wæs “eager to know what before was”, Solil 2 63.24); georn […] geseon sigora frean “eager […] [to] gaze upon the Lord of victories”, Guth A,B 1077). 5.- THE OE DITRANSITIVE ADJECTIVAL PREDICATES THE ADJECTIVES There are around 50 adjectives in OE which may be considered to be ditransitive. They can be grouped semantically into eight classes. Table 1 includes all those adjectives which I consider to have a three-place argument structure and which are used with either or both arguments as complements. The italics in the adjectives at the bottom of each group indicates that there are no attested examples in which both non-subject arguments surface at the same time. Translation equivalents are taken from the DOE (Dictionary of Old English), Bosworth & Toller, and/or the OED (Oxford English Dictionary). Table 1. List of adjectives and semantic classification8 GRATITUDE þancful “thankful,” uncūþfull “ungrateful,” unþancfull “ungrateful,” unþancol “ungrateful.” cystig “generous,” ēste “liberal,” genyhtsum “plenteous,” GENEROSITY/ ABUNDANCE rūmgifol “generous,” rūmheort “generous,” rūmmōd “generous,” spēdig “generous,” fæsthafol niggardly,” rēcelēas “parsimonious,” heamol “parsimonious,” [fulgenyhtsum “very abundant,” ungenyhtsum “insufficient,” wana “lacking”], 8 The adjectives enclosed in square brackets semantically belong with the others, but are not ditransitive. 19 Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes [ælmesgeorn “charitable”]. FORGIVENESS OBEDIENCE ārfull “compassionate,” forgyfen “forgiving,” forgyfende “forgiving,” unforgyfend “unforgiving.” ēaþmōd “submissive,” gehȳrsum “obedient,” ungehȳrsum “disobedient.” fāh “stained,” forscyldigod “guilty,” forworht “condemned, guilty,” gyltig “guilty,” scyldig “guilty,” sinnig “guilty,” GUILT/ RESPONSIBILITY þurhscyldig “very guilty,” unscyldig “innocent,” [āfȳled “defiled,” bilewit “innocent,” clǣne “clean,” unsinnig “not sinful,” unwemme “undefiled,” weorþ “guilty”]. medeme “entitled,” unmedeme “not entitled,” weorþ “worthy,” DESERVING unweorþ “unworthy,” unweorþlīc “unfitting,” [weorþfull “deserving,” weorþig “deserving,” weorþlīc “suitable”]. AGREEMENT SIMILARITY ānræd “one-minded, agreeing,” geþwære “agreed,” ungerād “discordant,” ungeþwære “disagreed.” gelīc “like, similar,” anlīc “like, similar,” ungelīc “unlike.” I think that the meaning of these adjectives is not complete if at least two arguments — I insist, other than that surfacing as subject — are not taken into account. One may understand this through paraphrases: one is thankful to somebody for something, generous to something in something, obedient to somebody in something, forgiving of something to someone, deserving of something on account of something, responsible/guilty to somebody for something, agreed with somebody in something, similar to somebody/ something in something. The adjectives contained in Table 1 are not always monosemous and therefore each sense section in the dictionary will state the differences in the number and nature of the arguments and in the type of syntactic complementation. Figure 1 below is a tentative entry of the adjective þancful, 20 Old English ditransitive adjectives where three basic meanings are explained according to what has been said so far, although it is only in sense 3 that þancful is ditransitive.9 ADJECTIVES OF “GRATITUDE” Adjectives denoting “gratitude” are in principle liable to take three arguments: somebody [AGENT] is thankful to somebody else (BENEFICIARY) for something (THEME). This pattern will be illustrated with a sample dictionary entry (Figure 1) for the adjective þancful.10 The AGENT always surfaces as subject; the BENEFICIARY — an optional complement — is always found as a dative NP; and the THEME — optional — is always found as a genitive NP. Figure 1. Dictionary entry of þancful11 ÞANCFUL ⓵ feeling or expressing gratitude to somebody for something Œ grateful, thankful ≠ uncūþful, unþancfull, unþancol Œ PREDICATIVE (CS) Œ AGENT, BENEFICIARY, THEME ❶ S+V+Adj+C1+C2: [V = Cop bēon/wesan] [S = pers; NP; AGENT] [C1= pers; NPdat; BENEFICIARY] [C2= abst; NPgen; THEME] • wesað þancfulle þon C1=NPdat=BENEFICIARY Hælende eoweres andleofanC2=NPgen=THEME (be thankful [to] the Saviour [for] your sustenance) (LS 12 (NatJnBapt) 151) • heoSub=NP=AGENT […] his ðrowunge ⁊ his eadmodnesseC2=NPgen=THEME mid worde ⁊ weorcum himC1=Npdat BENEFICIARY þoncfulle wæren (they […] [for] his suffering & his mercy with word and 9 The dictionary entry in Figure 1 contains some additional fields which, in my opinion, ought to be included in a lexicon of adjectival complementation, such as fields for synonyms, semantically related adjectives and antonyms (symbols =, ≈ and ≠, respectively) and labels for different types of referents (personal, abstract, action…). I do not include the fields recording collocational patterns (that is, adjectives frequently used in coordination with the headword or found in its immediate vicinity, such as na georn ne gewilnigende “neither eager or willing” (Conf 1.4 (Logeman) 68), and frequent nouns in subject function, such as such as synnful + cild / folc / gāst / man / wīf “sinful + child / folk / spirit / man / woman”). 10 Þancful has other senses, not presented here, namely, “causing pleasure to somebody (on account of something)” and “feeling satisfied with something.” 11 The order in which the various elements appear in the Semantic Frame and Syntactic Pattern boxes does not reflect the actual syntagmatic order in which the different elements are found in the examples. 21 Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes works [to] him thankful were) (HomU 2 (Belf 11) 116) ❷ S+V+Adj+(C1)+C2: [V = Cop bēon/wesan] [S = pers; NP; AGENT] [(C1) = pers; BENEFICIARY] [C2 = pers/abst; NPgen; THEME] • Þæt folcSub=NP=AGENT wearð ða swa fagen his cystignessaC2=NPgen=THEME and swa þancful (The people became then so joyful [for] his generosity and so thankful) (ApT 10.14) ❸ S+V+Adj+(C1)+(C2): [V = Cop bēon/wesan] [S = pers; NP; AGENT] [(C1); pers; BENEFICIARY] [(C2); pers/abst; THEME] • Beoð ðancfulle (Be thankful) (ÆCHom I, 39, 606.18) The adjective has three antonyms: unþancful, unþancol and uncūþ, roughly translatable as “ungrateful.” The patterns seen in the extant examples of these adjectives are shown in Table 2, together with those of þancful (in sense 3), for contrast. Table 2. Syntactic complementation patterns of adjectives of “gratitude” S+V+Adj+C +C S+V+Adj+C +(C S+V+Adj+(C )+C S+V+Adj+(C )+(C 2 ) 2 ) + + + + – – + – + – – + + – – – 1 þancful uncūþful unþancful unþancol 1 2 1 1 2 Since all the patterns, except that with only C1 (BENEFICIARY) surfacing, have been illustrated in Figure 1, I provide just one here, with unþancful: Sub=NP=AGENT C1=NPdat=BENEFICIARY (25) Þu wære swa ungeþancfull þinum drihtne (you were so ungrateful [to] your Lord) (HomU 37 (Nap 46) 235) As for the different types of structure that the complements of the four “gratitude” adjectives take, there is a neat correlation between argument and structure: the argument BENEFICIARY is always realized by a dative NP (C1), while the THEME is always genitive NP (C2). ADJECTIVES OF “GENEROSITY” AND “ABUNDANCE” Adjectives of “generosity” and “abundance” take three arguments, AGENT, BENEFICIARY and THEME. I will illustrate the dictionary entry for adjectives of this group with cystig (see Figure 2 below). The AGENT is obligatory and 22 Old English ditransitive adjectives surfaces as subject, while the other arguments, BENEFICIARY and THEME, are optional. I have found no examples in which they co-occur, unlike þancful. However, this should not rule out the need for its inclusion in the group of ditransitive adjectives. Since some of the synonyms (ēste, genyhtsum, rūmmōd and spēdig) are indeed found with two overt complements, one may safely presume that the same holds for cystig, despite the lack of evidence in extant texts. Figure 2. Dictionary entry of cystig CYSTIG willing to give and share things Œ generous, liberal, munificent. ≈ genyhtsum, rūmgifol, rūmheort, rūmmōd ≠ fæsthafol Œ PREDICATIVE (CS) Œ AGENT, BENEFICIARY, THEME 1 2 1 ❶ S+V+Adj+C +(C ): [V = Cop bēon/wesan] [S = pers; NP; AGENT] [C = pers; NPdat; BENEFICIARY] [(C2)= -anim; THEME] • HeSub=NP=AGENT wæs cystig wædlum C1=NPdat=BENEFICIARY and wydewum swa swa fæder (He was generous [to] orphans and widows as father) (ÆLS (Edmund), 22) ❷ S+V+Adj+(C1)+C2: [V = Cop weorþan] [(C1); pers; BENEFICIARY] [C2 = -anim; PP: on; THEME] • Þa wearð se cynincg OswoldSub=NP=AGENT […] on eallum þingumC2=PPon=THEME cystig (Then became king Oswald […] in all things generous) (ÆLS (Oswald), 83) ❸ S+V+Adj+(C1)+(C2): [V = Cop bēon/wesan] [S = pers; NP; AGENT] [(C1); pers; 2 Sub=NP=AGENT BENEFICIARY] [(C ); -anim; THEME] • Hordere si gecoren of gegæderunge wis […] na cystig ac atodrædenne (The janitor [must] be chosen by the congregation wise […] not liberal but fearful) (BenRGl 31.61.4) Examples (2), with este, and (27), with genyhtsum illustrate the syntactic pattern with overt BENEFICIARY and THEME, while example (28), with spēdig, illustrates a the pattern with a covert BENEFICIARY and an overt THEME. (26) Forþon þuSub=NP=AGENT drihtyn wynsum ⁊ milde eart ⁊ genihtsum on mildheortnysseC2=PPon=THEME eallum gecigyndumC1=NPdat=BENEFICIARY (Because you, Lord, sweet & mild are & plenteous in mercy [to] all calling on you) (PsGlC (Wildhagen) 85.5) (27) Forðon þu drihten wynsum ⁊ biliwite þuSub=NP=AGENT eart ⁊ spedig on C2=PPon=THEME C1=NPdat=BENEFICIARY mildheortnesse eallum gecigendum þe 23 Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes (Because you, Lord, pleasant & amiable you are & generous in mercy [to] all calling on you) (PsGlL (Lindelöf) 85.5) (28) on ælmesdædumComp=THEME heSub=AGENT wæs rumgiful (in alms-deeds he was generous) (ÆLS (Oswald), 83) The extant examples of some antonyms of genyhtsum “generous”, such as fæsthafol, heamol and rēcelēas “niggardly, parsimonious,” only illustrate their use with two arguments, an AGENT (subject) and a THEME (surfacing as a genitive NP complement), but not with an BENEFICIARY. Yet, I believe that an BENEFICIARY argument ought to be included in its semantic frame; see example (29). (29) for hwi wære þuSub=NP=AGENT swa fæsthafol minra godaC2=NPgen=THEME? (Why were you so parsimonious [with] my good [things]?) (HomS 40.1 (Nap 49) 165) Table 3 summarizes the different syntactic patterns of the “generosity/ abundance” adjectives. Table 3. Complementation patterns of adjectives of “generosity” and “abundance” S+V+Adj+C +C S+V+Adj+C +(C S+V+Adj+(C )+C S+V+Adj+(C )+(C ) 2 ) – + + + + – + – + + – – – – + + - –12 + + – - + + + – + + + + – + - 1 2 cystig ēste genyhtsu m rūmgifol rūmheort rūmmōd spēdig fæsthafol heamol 1 2 1 1 2 12 Note, however, that there exists an example for this pattern with the corresponding noun: heSub. [Oswald] C1=NPdat=BENEFICIARY C1=NPdat= BENEFICIARY wæs eallum rumgeofa ge æðelum ge unæðelum (Bede 3 12.194.31) (he [Oswald] was to all [a] liberal [one], both to high [ones] and low [ones]). 24 Old English ditransitive adjectives rēcelēas - - + - The boundary between both the meanings of “generosity” and “abundance” is often blurred: “having abundance of something” being a necessary condition for “acting with generosity”, but not vice versa. Not all adjectives belonging to this semantic class qualify to their inclusion among ditransitive adjectives. For example, spēdig is ditransitive in (27) above, but if the subject has inanimate reference (and materializes a LOCATIVE instead of an AGENT argument), the semantic frame cannot contain an BENEFICIARY; see example (30). The same is true of fulgenyhtsum “very abundant” and wana “lacking”.13 However, the antonym ungenyhtsum “insufficient”, in its unique occurrence in the DOEC, has a different semantic frame (overt THEME and SCOPE, covert BENEFICIARY).14 (30) Ic his cynnSub(Obj)=NP=LOCATIVE gedo […] wæstmumC=NPdat=THEME spedig (I his kin will make […] in fruits plentiful) (GenA,B 2801) (31) Gif soþlice seo tidSub=NP=THEME eal þis to gefremmanneC=enneInfClause=SCOPE ungenihtsum beo […] (If indeed the time all this to perform insufficient should be […]) (ThCap 2 (Sauer) 29.351.12) Table 4 shows the different structures used by the complements of the adjectives of this group. C1 (BENEFICIARY) correlates with a dative NP and with PPs headed by ofer, while C2 (THEME) correlates with a genitive NP and 13 Besides, these adjectives are used in impersonal constructions, which cannot contain more than two arguments, either because the subject is clausal or because it is a subjectless clause. Examples: Genoh is munuceC=NPdat=EXPERIENCER and fulgenihtsum, þæt he hæbbe twa cugelan and twegen syricas for þære nihtwareSub=þætClause=THEME (Enough is [for a] monk and sufficient, that he have two cowls and two for the night-ware, BenR 55.91.2); C2=NPgen=THEME leohtes þam C1=NPdat=LOCATIVE huse ne bið wana þæs healican ([to] that house shall not be lacking [of] sublime light, ÆLS (Thomas), 66) (or take wana as a noun). 14 I justify this analysis further down. See example (45) and note 23. 25 Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes with a PP headed by on, fram and of, with very few examples with a dative NP, in poetry. Table 4. Formal realization of the complements of “generosity and abundance” adjectives Dative Genitive Prepositional NP NP Phrase 1 C cystig ēste genyhtsum rūmgifol rūmheort rūmmōd spēdig ungenyhtsum fæsthafol heamul rēcelēas + + + + + + + 2 C 1 C 2 C 1 C Infinitive Clause 2 C 1 C C2 (SCOPE) on + on on + + ofer on on + + + + ADJECTIVES OF “FORGIVENESS” Adjectives of “forgiveness” have three arguments (AGENT, BENEFICIARY and THEME). Unlike the adjectives of the semantic classes seen so far, they are never found with the two non-AGENT arguments used at the same time. From a semantic point of view, the arguments are obligatory, but syntactically they are deletable and must be recovered from the context. The dictionary entry in Figure 3 illustrates the adjective forgyfen “forgiving.”15 Figure 3. Dictionary entry of forgyfen FORGYFEN ready to show mercy and grant forgiveness to somebody for something Œ merciful, forgiving, compassionate = ārful, forgyfende ≠ unforgyfende Œ PREDICATIVE (CS) 15 Past participle of forgyfan “to forgive” used as an adjective, with an active sense; see the DOE, s.v. forgyfan D.3.f.ii.a. 26 Old English ditransitive adjectives Œ AGENT, BENEFICIARY, THEME ❶ S+V+Adj+C1+(C2): [V = Cop bēon/wesan, weorþan] [S = pers; NP; AGENT] [C1 = pers; NPdat; BENEFICIARY] [(C2); abst; Sub=NP=AGENT THEME] • hie […] him eallumC1=NPdat=BENEFICIARY wurdon to milde ⁊ to forgiefene (they […] [to] them all became very mild & very forgiving) (Or4 3.87.17) ❷ S+V+Adj+(C1)+C2: [V = Cop bēon/wesan, weorþan] [S = pers; NP; 1 AGENT] [(C ); AGENT pers; BENEFICIARY] [C2 = abst; NPdat; THEME] • sie god ælmihtigSub=NP= […] eallum eowrum synnumC2=NPdat=THEME forgifen (Conf 9.5 (Först) 7) (let God almighty […] be forgiving [of] all your sins) There follow a few examples with other adjectives of the group: Sub=NP=AGENT C2=NPdat=THEME (32) Se arfull vel mild bið eallum unrihtwisnyssum þinum (He merciful and mild will be [to] all your iniquities) (PsGlC (Wildhagen) 102.3) (33) He Sub=NP=AGENT mannum wæs swa heard ⁊ unforgyfende þam forwyrhtum C1=NPdat=BENEFICIARY (he was so hard & unforgiving [to] the guilty men) (GDPref and 4 (C) 37.319.24) Sub=NP=AGENT (34) And þu giltas hælend Crist sy […] forgifende […] mine synna and mine C2=NPacc=THEME (And you, healing Christ, be […]forgiving […] [of] my sins and my guilts) (Conf 4 (Fowler) 18.71)16 The patterns found in the DOEC citations are summarized in Table 5. Table 5. Complementation patterns of adjectives of “forgiving” S+V+Adj+(C )+(C 1 S+V+Adj+C +C 1 2 S+V+Adj+C +(C ) 1 2 S+V+Adj+(C )+C 1 2 2 ) 16 I analyse the structure bēon forgyfend (example (34)) as “copula + adjective”, even though this interpretation may be debatable, for various reasons: a) the form may also be used attributively (forgifendre miltse (ArPrGl 1 (forgiving mercy, Holt-Campb) 27.19)); b) its antonym unforgyfende is necessarily an adjective (example (33)), since there exists no such verb as *unforgyfan; c) the verb is in the imperative mood, which is semantically incompatible with a progressive interpretation (see Quirk & al. 1985: 827); and d) even though in (34) the complement (THEME) is in the accusative, which is the expected inflection as object of the verb (see the DOE, s.v. forgyfan, sense D.3.d ), examples with a genitive form are also found, in which I consider the participial form to be adjectival: bið heSub=NP=AGENT […] forgifende ura synna C2=NPacc=THEME (he shall be […] forgiving [of] our sins, HomS 8 (BlHom2) 95). See in this respect Visser (1963–1973: 1931), Mitchell (1985: I 272–280), Denison (1993: Chapter 13) and Fischer and Van der Wurff (2006: 135 and ff.). 27 Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes ārfull forgyfen forgyfende unforgyfende – – – – – + – + + + + – – – + – The formal realizations of complements of adjectives of “forgiving” are shown in Table 6. Again, C1 (BENEFICIARY) is always realized by a dative NP, while C2 (THEME) may be a genitive, an accusative, or a dative NP. Table 6. Formal realization of adjectives of “forgiving” Genitive NP C1 ārfull forgyfen forgyfende unforgyfend C2 Accusative NP C1 C2 Dative NP C1 + + C2 + + + + ADJECTIVES OF “OBEDIENCE” Adjectives of “obedience” also require BENEFICIARY and THEME arguments, apart from the AGENT: one is obedient to somebody in something. The adjective gehȳrsum is used in all four syntactic patterns, while the antonym ungehȳrsum lacks a surviving example with simultaneous surfacing of the two non-subject arguments. I am aware that the paraphrase used (“be obedient to somebody in something”) is misleading, since it would seem that the argument I call THEME here is in fact SCOPE, that is, it fences in the extent of one’s obedience. However, I think it is not. The fact that a PP is used for C2 should not bias us against choosing the label THEME for this argument. This is borne out by a comparison of the referents of C2 in the examples of the entry for gehyrsum in Figure 4. We can readily see that they are of the same nature and, whether the syntactic pattern is C1+C2 or (C1)+C2, what the AGENT is compliant with is still an order or a wish. Figure 4 shows the dictionary entry of gehȳrsum. Figure 4. Dictionary entry of gehȳrsum 28 Old English ditransitive adjectives GEHYRSUM feeling or expressing obedience to somebody in something Œ obedient, submissive = ēaþmōd ≠ ungehȳrsum Œ PREDICATIVE (CS/CO) Œ AGENT, BENEFICIARY, THEME ❶ S+V+Adj+C1+C2: [V = Cop bēon/wesan] [S = pers; NP; AGENT] [C1 = pers; NPdat; 2 Sub=NP=AGENT BENEFICIARY] [C = abst; PPæt/in/on/tō; THEME] • gif ge æt þissum C2=PPæt=THEME C1=NPdat=BENEFICIARY þreom þingum me hyrsume beon willað (if you in these three things [to] me obedient will be) (Bede 2 2.102.10) ❷ S+V+Adj+C1+(C2): 1 [V = Cop bēon/wesan, weorþan; Intr wunian] [S = NP; pers; AGENT] [C = pers; dat 2 Sub=NP=AGENT . NP /PPtō; BENEFICIARY] [C = abst; (C); THEME] • ge ðeowan beoð gehyrsume eowerum hlafordumC1=NPdat=BENEFICIARY (you servants, be obedient [to] your masters) (ÆCHom II, 21, 186.216) • HeSub=NP=AGENT sceal beon […] hersum to ælcum men ⁊ to GodeC1=NPtō=BENEFICIARY (He must be […] obedient to all men & to God) (HomS 2 (ScraggVerc16) 185) ❸ S+V+Adj+(C1)+C2: 1 2 [V = Cop bēon/wesan] [S = pers; NP; AGENT] [C ) = pers; BENEFICIARY] [C = dat Sub=NP=AGENT wære gehyrsum ðines wifes NP ; abst; THEME] • ðu C2=NPdat=THEME wordum (you were obedient [to] your wife’s words) (ÆCHom I, 1, 18.12) ❹ S+V+Adj+(C1)+(C2): [V = Cop bēon/wesan, bēon/wesan geworden] [S = 1 2 pers; NP; AGENT] [(C ); pers; BENEFICIARY] [(C ) = abst; THEME] • Læcedemonie Sub=NP=AGENT þære byrig siþþan gehiersume wæron (The Lacedemonians of that city afterwards obedient were) (Or3 1.55.9) The adjective ēaþmōd, when used predicatively, is never found with a THEME argument. However, there is one example, (35), in which it is used attributively and has one such argument, but no BENEFICIARY.17 Sub(Obj)=NP=AGENT (35) he on Brytene her eaðmode him eorlas funde to godes willanC2=PPtō=THEME 17 Another example of ēaþmōd which is somewhat misleading is the following: wite he eac, þæt heSub=NP=EXPERIENCER?/AGENT? swa micle eaðmodra beon sceal on regoles underþeodnesse C2:PPon=THEME/SCOPE? , swa miclum swa he furðor forlæten is (let him also know that he must be all the more submissive/humble in [to?] the obedience of the rule the more he is allowed [in the service], BenR 62.111.20)). Ēaþmōd also means “humble, meek.” If we consider that this is the sense it has in the previous example, then the PP on regoles underþeodnesse could be labelled SCOPE. But if we consider that it is the sense “obedient” that is being conveyed, then the PP is a THEME. This would also alter the type of argument surfacing as subject: EXPERIENCER in the former interpretation, AGENT in the latter. 29 Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes (he in Britain here obedient [for] himself earls found to God’s will [≈ he found himself law-abiding earls]) (Men 95) Table 7 shows the different complementation patterns of the two adjectives. Table 7. Complementation patterns of adjectives of “obedience” S+V+Adj+C1+C2 gehȳrsum ēaþmōd ungehȳrsum S+V+Adj+C1+(C2) + – – S+V+Adj+(C1)+C2 + + + S+V+Adj+(C1)+(C2) + – + + + + The formal realizations of complements of adjectives of “obedience” are shown in Table 8. C1 (BENEFICIARY) can be either a dative NP or a PP headed by tō or wiþ. C2 (THEME) can be dative or genitive NP or a PP with æt, in, on, tō. Table 8. Formal realization of adjectives of “obedience” Dative NP gehȳrsum ungehȳrsu m ēaþmōd C1 + C2 + + + Genitive NP C1 C2 Prepositional Phrase C1 tō C2 æt, in, on, tō wiþ on, tō + + ADJECTIVES OF “GUILT AND RESPONSIBILITY” This group of adjectives is semantically heterogeneous: not all of them have the same meaning components and some of them present great complexity in their denotations. This can be illustrated by means of paraphrases: one can be accountable for something (e.g., a crime or a sin) and, if found out, be liable to judgement, and if convicted, be liable to a sentence (that is, the punishment), while being responsible to somebody for the crime or sin committed. Naturally, we are not going to find more than two of these complements used at the same time. However, two arguments may surface in the same element. 30 Old English ditransitive adjectives For example, in Sense 1 of scyldig (see Figure 5), the subject is both AGENT, insofar as he is the doer of the action, and EXPERIENCER, since he is liable to undergo a punishment. Besides, the semantic frame would contain two THEME arguments, one of which should perhaps be given a more specific case label, such as CAUSE. This contingency — the presence of two THEMES — actually only happens with very few adjectives and does not invalidate our choice of argument labels. It should be considered as an idiosyncratic feature of the adjective scyldig itself. However, for the sake of consistency, since I have used the term CAUSE for no other adjective, I will refer to this argument as THEME, and distinguish between the two THEMES by means of superscript numerals. Sense 2 of scyldig also involves two arguments, though they are different from those it has in sense 1. Here we have an AGENT surfacing as subject, an EXPERIENCER and an optional THEME, which is always the price the subject referent must pay to compensate for his crime or sin. Figure 5. Dictionary entry of scyldig SCYLDIG ⓵ responsible or convicted for a crime AND liable to punishment Œ guilty, convicted, liable ≈ weorþ Œ PREDICATIVE (CS) Œ AGENT/EXPERIENCER, THEME1, ❶ S+V+Adj+C1+C2: [V = Cop bēon/wesan] [S = pers; NP; 1 1 2 2 AGENT/EXPERIENCER] [C = pers; PPfor; THEME ] [C = abst; PPtō; THEME ] • Sub=NP=AGENT/EXPERIENCER wæs to hellicere susleC1=PPtō=THEME1 for his Scyldig he mandædumC2=PPfor=THEME2(CAUSE) (Guilty he was to hellish torment for his crimes) (ÆCHom II, 5, 45.131) ⓶ responsible to someone AND liable to punishment Œ guilty, liable ≈ weorþ Œ PREDICATIVE (CS) Œ AGENT, EXPERIENCER, THEME ❶ S+V+Adj+C1+C2: [V = Cop bēon/wesan] [S = NP; AGENT] [C1 = pers; NPdat/PPwiþ; EXPERIENCER] [C2 = abst; gen, dat, acc /PPwiþ; THEME] • And gif hit hwa gedon hæbbe, beo heSub=NP=AGENT NP EXPERIENCER scyldig ealles þæs, þe he age C2=NPgen= […] wið þone cyningcC1=PPwiþ= THEME (And if somebody should have done it, let him be […] against the king guilty [of] all that which he may own [i.e., liable to pay compensation]) (HomU 40 (Nap 50) AGENT THEME wæron feohC2=NPacc= scyldige 178) • Twegen gafolgylderasSub=NP= C1=NPdat=EXPERIENCER (Twelve tribute-payers were [to] money liable sumum massere AGENT eart wið mec [to] some merchant) (ÆHomM 12 (Brot 1), 163) • þuSub=NP= THEME 2 31 Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes C1=PPwiþ=EXPERIENCER deaþeC2NPdat=THEME scyldig, forþon ealle mine broðor […] wæron ofslegene (you are liable against me [to] death, because all my brothers […] were killed) (Bede 4 23.328.24) • And se ðe rihte lage ⁊ rihtne dom forsace, beo se Sub=NP=AGENT scyldig wið þone þe hit ageC2 =PPwiþ=THEME: swa wið cyningc wi C1=PPwiþ =EXPERIENCER CXX scyllingaC2=NP=THEME, swa wið eorlC1=PP þ EXPERIENCER THEME = LX scyllingaC2= NP= (And he who disregards rightful law & rightful judgement, he shall be guilty against him [to whom] he owes: against the king [for] 120 shillings, against the earl [for] 60 shillings) (LawIICn 15.2) ❷ S+V+Adj+C1+(C2): [V = Cop bēon/wesan] [S = NP; AGENT] [C1 = pers; dat 2 AGENT NP /PPwiþ; EXPERIENCER] [(C )= abst; THEME] • […] us sylfeSub(Obj)=NP= EXPERIENCER ([…] ourselves guilty [against] you) (HyGl 3 scyldige þeC1=NPdat= AGENT is scyldig (Gneuss) 12.3) • Ælc man þe yfel deþ mid yfelum willanSub=NP= C1=PPwiþ=EXPERIENCER (Each man who evil should do with evil will is guilty wið God AGENT scyldigne against God) (ÆLS (Exalt of Cross), 170) • Ic […] meSub(Obj)=NP= wiþ EXPERIENCER C1=PP = (I […]myself guilty made against you) (Conf 9.3.2 dyde wið þe (Logeman) 32) ⓷ responsible to someone for something Œ guilty ≠ unscyldig Œ PREDICATIVE (CS) Œ AGENT, EXPERIENCER, THEME ❶ S+V+Adj+C1+C2: [V = Cop bēon/wesan] [S = NP; AGENT] [C1 = pers; PPwiþ; EXPERIENCER] [C2 = abst; NPgen; THEME] • we AGENT […] ðæt witon se esne ðe ærendað his woroldhlaforde wifes, ðæt heSub=NP= THEME EXPERIENCER scyldig wið GodC1=PPwiþ= (we […] bið diernes geliresC2=NPgen= that know, the servant who acts as messenger for his lord’s wife, that he shall be [of] fornication guilty against God) (CP 19.143.1) Some other meanings of scyldig have not been included in the preceding figure given the impossibility to recover a covert argument. In (36) below, where scyldig means “guilty of a crime or sin”, just one argument surfaces, THEME2. Which is the missing argument? The EXPERIENCER (the person against whom one is guilty, e.g., God) or the THEME1 (the punishment, e.g., hell)?18 18 One particular meaning of weorþ in legal texts is synonymous with the second part of senses 1 and 2 of scyldig, that is, “liable to punishment”. For this reason, unlike scyldig, its semantic frame contains only an EXPERIENCER (subject) and an optional THEME (complement), which refers to the punishment. Thus, even though weorþ belongs to the “deserving” class, it is not ditransitive in this case. Example: Hwæt hæfð þes 32 Old English ditransitive adjectives AGENT THEME2 (36) Nu synd þa IudeiscanSub=NP= […] Cristes deaðesC2=NPgen= scyldige (Now are the Jews […] [of] Christ’s death guilty) (ÆLS (Exalt of Cross), 176) Likewise, should an extra argument really be supplied in example (37), where scyldig means “liable to conviction and sentence,” and a new syntactic (C1)+C2 pattern be added to Sense 2 in Figure 5? EXPERIENCER THEME1 (37) se ðe man ofslihð, seSub=NP= bið domesC1=NPgen= scyldig (he who a man kills, he shall be [to] judgement liable) (ÆHom 16 125) The following examples illustrate some of the other adjectives of the group, their complementation patterns being shown in Table 9: AGENT (38) heSub=NP= biþ leahtrumC2=NPdat= THEME fah wið EXPERIENCER wuldorcyningC1=PPwiþ= (he shall be [of] crimes guilty against the glorious King) (Whale 62) AGENT (39) þaSub=NP= wæron synfulle menn, and bysmorlice forscyldgode on THEME sceamlicum dædumC2=PPon= (who [the Sodomites] were sinful men and disgracefully guilty in shameful deeds) (ÆHom 19 65) AGENT bið […] scyldig wið God, ⁊ wið his (40) heSub=NP= EXPERIENCER C1=PPwiþ= hlaford eallenga forworht (he shall be […] guilty against God & against his lord utterly guilty) (CP 19.143.1) (41) Ic wat […] me sylfneSub(Obj)=NP=AGENT forworhtne wordes and dædeC2=NPgen=THEME (I know […] myself sinful [in] word and deed) (WPol 2.1.1 (Jost) 57) AGENT (42) icSub=NP= wille beon þyses mannes blodesC2=NPgen= THEME unscyldig ⁊ his THEME deaþesC2=NPgen= (I wish to be [of] this man’s blood guiltless & [of] his death) (HomS 24 (ScraggVerc1) 187) rihtwisa man […] gefremod. þæt heSub=NP=EXPERIENCER rodehengeneC=NPgen=THEME wurþe sy? (What has this righteous man […] done, that he [of] crucifixion deserving should be?) (ÆCHom I, 38, 596.1). 33 Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes Table 9. Complementation patterns of adjectives of “guilt and responsibility” S+V+Adj+C +C S+V+Adj+C +(C ) S+V+Adj+(C )+C S+V+Adj+(C )+(C ) + – – – + + + – – – + + + – + – + – + + (?) + + + – – – – + + - (?) – + + – – – – – + 1 fāh forscyldigod forworht gyltig scyldig1 scyldig2 scyldig3 synnig þurhscyldig unscyldig 2 1 2 1 2 1 2 The complements of the adjectives of “guilt and responsibility” take the realizations shown in Table 10: C1 (EXPERIENCER) correlates with dative and with a PP headed by wiþ, while C2 (THEME) is normally realized by a genitive NP or a PP headed by mid, on or þurh.19 Table 10. Formal realization of adjectives of “guilt and responsibility” fāh Dative NP C1 C2 + Genitive NP C1 C2 C1 wiþ wiþ forscyldigod forworht gyltig scyldig1 scyldig2 scyldig3 sinnig þurhscyldig unscyldig Prepositional Phrase + + + + + + + + + wiþ wiþ for wiþ wiþ wiþ + ætforan, wiþ C2 for, mid, on, þurh mid, þurh on tō wiþ for fram, of 19 A few adjectives semantically or lexically related adjectives cannot be considered ditransitive for they only have one non-subject argument in their semantic frame: āfȳled, bilewit, clǣne, unsynnig and unwemme. 34 Old English ditransitive adjectives ADJECTIVES OF “DESERVING” Adjectives of “deserving” are also ditransitive, insofar as one is worthy or deserving of something on account of something. The three arguments which make up the semantic frame of these adjectives are an EXPERIENCER, which always surfaces as subject, and a THEME and a SCOPE, which are realized by complements and never appear simultaneously. Figure 6 illustrates the dictionary entry of medeme. Figure 6. Dictionary entry of medeme20 MEDEME having sufficient worth or merit in a certain respect to deserve having or receiving something Œ deserving, entitled, fit, worthy = weorþ Œ PREDICATIVE (CS/CO) Œ EXPERIENCER, THEME, SCOPE ❶ S+V+Adj+C1+(C2): [V = Cop bēon/wesan, weorþan] [S = pers; NP; EXPERIENCER] [C1 = pers; NPdat/PPfor; 2 THEME] [(C ) = abst; SCOPE] • seþe lufað fæder oþþe moder swiðor þonne me nis Sub=NP EXPERIENCER = meC1=NPdat=THEME wyrðe vel meoduma (he who loves [his] he father or mother more than me, he is not [of] me worthy or deserving) (MtGl (Ru) Sub=NP EXPERIENCER = magon on þyssum stowum […] gode ⁊ medeme 10.37) • we C1=PPfor= THEME (we can in this place […] good & fit weorþan for urum Drihtne become for our Lord) (HomS 46 (BlHom 11) 251) ❷ S+V+Adj+(C1)+C2: [V = Cop bēon/wesan, weorþan] [S = pers; NP; EXPERIENCER] [(C1)= pers; THEME] [C2 = Sub=NP EXPERIENCER = wes meodum on eallum anim; PPon/þurh; SCOPE] • He on SCOPE (he was worthy in all things) (LS 3 (Chad) 76) • þingumC2=PP = Sub=NP=EXPERIENCER wæs þurh allC2=PPþurh= SCOPE meodum ⁊ Gode gecoren (he he was through all worthy & chosen by God) (Bede 4 3.262.30) ❸ S+V+Adj+(C1)+(C2): [V = Cop bēon/wesan, weorþan] [S = pers; NP; EXPERIENCER] [(C1)= pers; THEME] 2 [(C ) = -anim; SCOPE] • ðeah mon nu yfelum men anwald selle, ne gedeð se anwald EXPERIENCER godne ne medomne (even though an evil man may have hineSub(Obj)=NP= been given power, power will not make him good or worthy) (Bo 16.38.32) 20 The basic meaning of medeme is “moderate, occupying or observing the mean position”, whence “meet for” or “worthy of something.” See Bosworth & Toller, s.v. medume. My dictionary entry sample in this article records this last sense, though it often proves difficult to pinpoint the exact meaning in extant examples. 35 Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes The adjective weorþ is semantically more complex than medeme.21 Three senses are relevant here: “Having sufficient worth or merit in a certain respect to deserve having or receiving something”. With this sense it is a synonym of medeme and shares with it the same argumental and syntactic complementation structure.22 1.- “Legally entitled to something on account of something [=having the right to deserve].” 2.- “Worthy of esteem for somebody on account of something.” Although the arguments of the adjective are the same in its three senses, they surface as different structures according to the meaning conveyed: • (1) “DESERVING” AND (2) “ENTITLED”: EXPERIENCER (SUBJECT), 1 THEME (C ) AND SCOPE (C2); • (2) “ESTEEMED”: theme (SUBJECT), experiencer (C1) AND scope (C2). Unlike medeme, weorþ is always used with at least one complement. Besides, both complements are allowed simultaneously. Examples (43) and (44) illustrate senses 1 and 3, with 2 complements. (43) he […]cwæð þæt he meahte oðerne getæcnan, þeSub=NP=EXPERIENCER biscophadaC1=NPgen=THEME wyrðra wære ge on gelærednesse ge on his lifes gegearnunge ge on gedefre eldoC2=PPon=SCOPE (he […] said that he could another[one] instruct, who [for the] bishopric worthier would be in learning, in his life’s preparation and in adequate age) (Bede 4 1.254.6) (44) Wæs heSub=NP=THEME for his arfæstum dædumC2=PPfor=SCOPE eallum his geferumC1=NPdat=EXPERIENCER leof ⁊ weorð 21 Weorþ has other meanings which that have nothing to do with the idea of deserving, such as “having a value equal to something specified”, “considered appropriate or acceptable for a given circumstance or purpose”, “of great value, importance or merit”, “deserving of or liable to punishment” (see Note 17), and “held in esteem by somebody on account of something”. These meanings, of course, are not considered in this article. 22 However, the referent of the THEME in the case of medeme is always personal, while in the case of weorþ it may also be inanimate. 36 Old English ditransitive adjectives (Was he for his honourable actions [to] all his companions dear & worthy) (LS 17.1 (MartinMor) 31) There exist a few adjectives lexically derived from weorþ, namely, weorþfull, weorþig, weorþlīc and unweorþlīc, which also belong to the “deserving” group. However, only unweorþlīc “unworthy, unfitting” might be considered as ditransitive; see example (45). The adjective has three arguments, THEME, EXPERIENCER and SCOPE, which surface as subject, a dative NP complement and an infinitive-clause complement, respectively.23 (45) þeah þe heoSub=NP=THEME [sprǣce] si usC1=NPdat=EXPERIENCER unwyrðelice ⁊ SCOPE unrihtlic to sprecaneC2=-enneInfCl= (even though it [speech] should be [for] us unfitting & wrong to speak) (GDPref and 3 (C) 15.209.16) Table 11 illustrates the different patterns of the adjectives of the “deserving” group. 23 When the SCOPE is an infinitive clause, the clause often contains yet another argument which surfaces as a dative NP. Semantically this NP is an AGENT within the infinitive clause, but in my view it is also an EXPERIENCER argument of the adjective predicate. The same analysis may be applied to a semantic class of adjectives which I have not considered in this article, that of “ease and difficulty”. In the sentence þæs dæges is swiðe earfoðe læwedum mannumComp1=EXPERIENCER to godspelSub=THEME Comp2=SCOPE (ÆCHom II, 36.2, 271.6; Today’s gospel is very difficult for uneducated men to understandenne understand), the quality of ease applies not only to the action (tō understandenne), but also to the referent of the subject (þæs dæges godspel). As Bolinger (1961: 373) points out (in his criticism of Lees’s (1960) thesis that He is hard to convince has the same origin as It is hard to convince him), these adjectives “can as readily modify the subject as the action.” Paraphrasing Schachter (1980: 446, Note 15), we could say that the act of reading the gospel is difficult by reason of some intrinsic quality of the gospel itself. See also Wülfing (1894–1901 II: 200). Since there are examples in OE with no infinitive clause complement, it is clear that the adjective can indeed qualify the subject: hu nearu ys wegSub=THEME ⁊ earfoþe se gelæt to life (LibSc 60.1; how straight and difficult is the path that leads to life). Here the SCOPE and EXPERIENCER arguments do not surface, though they are contextually recoverable (*mannum and *tredan, for example). There are examples where only the EXPERIENCER is overt and the SCOPE is covert (but recoverable: *tō donne): Drihten hælend. nis þeC1=EXPERIENCER nan ðingSub=THEME earfoðe (ÆCHom I, 4, 62.10; Lord saviour, is to You nothing difficult). Therefore, adjectives of “ease and difficulty” could arguably be included among our ditransitive adjectives. See also examples (26) and ((45). 37 Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes Table 11. Complementation patterns of adjectives of medeme, unweorþ and weorþ with the sense “deserving” S+V+Adj+C +C 1 S+V+Adj+C +(C ) 2 1 – + + + + medeme unmedeme unweorþ unweorþlīc weorþ1 weorþ2 S+V+Adj+(C )+C 2 1 + – + – + + S+V+Adj+(C )+(C ) 2 1 + – + – + + 2 + + + – + + The complements of the adjectives of “deserving” take the following realizations: Table 12. Formal realization of adjectives of “deserving” Dat NP Gen NP Acc NP C1 C1 C1 medeme + weorþ1 + weorþ2 + unweorþ weorþful1 weorþful2 C2 C2 C2 +(inst + ) + PP C1 C2 for on, þurh tō for, on mid, on + Infin. Finite Cl. C1 + C2 Cl. C1 C2 + for, in, mid, on fram, on + + betwēoh, + weorþig mid, on + ADJECTIVES OF “AGREEMENT” There are four adjectives denoting “agreement with somebody in something”: ānræd, geþwære, ungerād and ungeþwære. The arguments required by these adjectives are two EXPERIENCERS and a SCOPE. One of the EXPERIENCER arguments always surfaces as the subject and the other may be a complement (a dative NP or a PP); see example (46). As Comesaña-Rincón (2001b: 38) points out, there exists a relation of reciprocity between them: “a 38 Old English ditransitive adjectives change in the (linear) direction of the relation provokes no alteration in the relation itself.” Thus, example (46) may be rewritten as example (47). (46) Hwæt gewilnað þes wiðerwinna, þe wyle, þæt þuSub=NP=EXPERIENCER1 beo wið hineC1=PPwiþ=EXPERIENCER2 geþwære, buton þines sylfes hæle? (ÆLet 6 (Wulfgeat), 135) (What does this enemy wish, who desires that you should be agreed with him, except your own salvation?) (47) *heSub=NP=EXPERIENCER2 beo wiþ þeC1=PPwiþ=EXPERIENCER1 geþwære (he should be agreed with you) This reciprocal relationship is the reason why both arguments are given the same case label. Reciprocity also means that both EXPERIENCERS may appear as coordinated NPs with subject function, as is illustrated in example (48), with the antonym ungerād:24 (48) Ðonne se abbodSub=NP1=EXPERIENCER1 and se prafostSub=NP2=EXPERIENCER2 ungerade beoð and him betwyx sacað […] (When the abbot and the provost discordant are and between them contend […]) (BenR 65.124.18) What is more, the referents of the two coordinated phrases, that is, the two EXPERIENCERS, may be realized by just one NP in the plural: (49) Æfter godes gesetnysse ealle cristene menSub=NP=EXPERIENCERS1+2 sceoldon beon swa geþwære. swilce hit an man wære (After God’s law, all Christian men must be as agreeing as if it one man were) (ÆCHom I, 19, 272.23) As for the second argument in the semantic frame, the SCOPE, it surfaces as a complement: 24 Naturally, although these “transformations” involve no change of meaning, the focus is different. See Quirk & al. (1985: 940; 945 et passim). 39 Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes (50) And ealle hi ðingum Sub=NP=EXPERIENCERS1+2 wæron anræde æt eallum þam C2=PPæt=SCOPE (And they all were unanimous on all those things) (WPol 2.1.1 (Jost) 161) Figure 7 illustrates the dictionary entry of ānræd. Figure 7. Dictionary entry of ānræd ĀNRÆD being agreed with somebody concerning something Œ agreed, one-minded, unanimous ≠ ungerād, ungeþwære Œ PREDICATIVE (CS) Œ EXPERIENCER1, 2 , SCOPE ❶ S+V+Adj+C1+C2: [V = Cop bēon/wesan] [S = pers; NP; 2 1 EXPERIENCER , EXPERIENCER ] [C = pers; PPbetwēon; EXPERIENCER1, 2 2 Sub=NP= EXPERIENCER ] [C = abst; PPtō/Cl Fin: þæt; SCOPE] • And hy ealle EXPERIENCERS1+2 C1=PPbetwēon= EXPERIENCERS1+2 wæron anræde him betweonan to þæra gesætnyssa C2=PPtō= SCOPE (And they all were agreed between them concerning the decree) (ÆLet 1 (Wulfsige Xa), 98) • Wurdan þa ealle Sub=NP=EXPERIENCER1 C1=PPmid=EXPERIENCER2 þæt hy woldon Godwines swa anræde mid þam cynge fyrde gesecan gif se cyng þæt woldeC2=þætCl=SCOPE ([They] all became so agreed with the king that they would Godwin’s army seek if the king so wished) (Or else: “resolute in support of the king”; see DOE, s. v. ānræd) (ChronD (ClassenHarm) 1052.1.31) ❷ S+V+Adj+(C1)+C2: [V = Cop bēon/wesan] [S = pers; NP; 1 2 1 2 2 EXPERIENCER , EXPERIENCER ] [(C ) = pers; EXPERIENCER ] [C = abst; PPæt; Sub=NP=EXPERIENCERS1+2 SCOPE] • And ealle hi wæron anræde æt eallum þam C2=PPæt=SCOPE ðingum (And they were all agreed on all the things) (WPol 2.1.1 (Jost) 161) ❸ S+V+Adj+(C1)+(C2): [V = Cop bēon/wesan, weorþan] [S = 1 2 1 2 pers/conc(fig); NP; EXPERIENCER , EXPERIENCER ] [(C ) = pers; EXPERIENCER > 2 Sub=NP=EXPERIENCERS1+2 reciprocity: C > S] [(C ) = abst; THEME] • þæt we ealle gemænelice, gehadede and læwede, anræde weorðan for gode and for worold (that we all mutually, religious and lay [people], one-minded become for God and for [the] world) (HomU 40 (Nap 50) 206) • se monaSub=NP=EXPERIENCER1 and seo sæSub=NP=EXPERIENCER2 beon anræde (the moon and the sea are harmonious) (Days 3.2 (Först) 42) EXPERIENCER 1 The various patterns used by the “agreement” adjectives are shown in Table 13. Table 13. Complementation patterns of adjectives of “agreement” 40 Old English ditransitive adjectives S+V+Adj+C +C S+V+Adj+C +(C ) S+V+Adj+(C )+C S+V+Adj+(C )+(C ) + – – – – + + + + + + + + + + – 1 ānræd geþwære ungerād ungeþwære 2 1 2 1 2 1 2 The complements of the adjectives of “agreement” take the realizations shown in Table 14. Table 14. Formal realization of adjectives of “deserving” Dat NP C ānræd geþwære ungerād ungeþwære 1 + + + C PP 2 C Finite Cl. C 1 2 betwēon, tō wiþ betwēon betwēoh C 1 C2 + on 6.- ADJECTIVES OF “SIMILARITY” The three adjectives of “similarity”, ānlīc and gelīc “like”, and their antonym, ungelīc “unlike”, always involve two THEMES and a SCOPE. Therefore, the patterns are very similar to those of the “agreement” adjectives. However, a major difference is that “agreement” adjectives always involve personal referents, while “similarity” 1 adjectives may involve either animate or inanimate referents. THEME always surfaces as subject in the clause structure while THEME2 may surface as complement (C1), as in the following example: (51) Forþam ys heofena riceSub=NP=THEME1 anlic þam cyningeC1=NPdat=THEME2 þe hys þeowas geradegode (Therefore is the kingdom of heaven like that king, who his servants reckoned) (Mt(WSCp) 18.23) Since the same type of reciprocity relation which obtains with “agreement” adjectives exists with “similarity” adjectives, example (51) may be rewritten as (52), with no change in meaning. What is more, both THEMES may appear as 41 Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes coordinated NPs with subject function (example (53) or as one NP with double reference (example (54). (52) *Se cyningSub=NP=THEME2 ys anlic heofena riceC1=NPdat=THEME1 (the king is like [the] kingdom of heavens) (53) sio bieldoSub=NP1=THEME1 ⁊ sio monnðwærnesSub=NP2=O2 bioð swiðe anlice (the courage & the meekness are most similar) (CP 40.287.23) (54) Ac hiora anwalda endasSub=NP=THEMES1+2 wæron swiþe ungelice (But their rulers’ ends were very unlike) (Or2 1.38.17) The second argument is SCOPE, that is, the extent to which the similarity or lack of similarity between two people or things obtains. It surfaces as a complement taking the shape of a NP or a PP, as in (55): (55) Se fugelSub=NP=THEME1 is on hiweC2=PPon=SCOPE æghwæs ænlic, onlicost peanC1=NPacc=THEME2 (The fowl is unique in aspect most like [a] peacock) (Phoen 311) Figure 8 shows the dictionary entry for the adjective gelīc. The section for Syntactic Pattern ❷ is further divided into subsections Ⓐ, Ⓑ and Ⓒ to illustrate more clearly the structures and types of referent of its components. Both the subject and the C1 take the shape of finite clauses introduced by þe, þæt and swā, often anticipated by or correlating with hit, þǣm, þon and þæs. Since these patterns disappeared in the course of history, the courtesy translations offered may at times prove a little taxing for PDE acceptability. Figure 8. Dictionary entry of gelīc GELĪC having resemblance in certain features to someone or something Œ like, similar = anlīc ≠ ungelīc Œ PREDICATIVE (CS/CO) Œ THEME1, THEME2, SCOPE ❶ S+V+Adj+C1+C2: [V = Cop bēon/wesan, weorþan] [S = ±anim; NP; THEME1] 1 dat 2 2 dat/ [C = ±anim; NP ; THEME ] [C = ±anim; NP PPin/on; SCOPE] • Is seo Sub=NP=THEME1 C2=NPdat=SCOPE eaggebyrd stearc ond hiwe staneC1=NPdat=THEME2 gelicast (Is the eye rigid and in aspect [to] a stone most similar) (Phoen 301) • Sub=NP=THEME1 scyppendeC1= Wendun ge ond woldun, wiþerhycgende, þæt ge 42 Old English ditransitive adjectives NPdat=THEME2 sceoldan gelice wesan in wuldreC2=PPin=SCOPE (You imagined and wanted, evil-thinking, that you [to] the Creator must similar be in glory) (Guth A,B Sub=NP=THEME1 beo on dædumC2=PPon=SCOPE 663) • Ne gedafenað biscope þæt he folces mannumC1=NPdat=THEME2 gelic (It does not befit a bishop he should be in deeds [to] the folk’s men similar) (ÆCHom II, 10, 81.14) ❷ S+V+Adj+C1+(C2): [V = Cop bēon/wesan] [(C2); -anim; SCOPE] 1 1 dat/gen/acc/PP tō/Cl Fin: þæt Ⓐ [S = ±anim; NP; THEME ] [C = ±anim; NP (anticipated by hit); þe; þe (anticipated by þǣm, þon); þæt (anticipated by þæs); 2 Sub=NP=THEME1 THEME ] • Helias se witega wæs us mannumC1=NPdat=THEME2 gelic (Elias the prophet was us men like) (ÆCHom II, 21, 189.277) • gelic is rice heofunasSub=NP=THEME1 nettC1=NPacc=THEME2 asendun in sae (similar is the kingdom of heavens [to] a net thrown into the sea) (MtGl (Ru) 13.47) • gelic is ric heofnaSub=NP=THEME1 to darsteC1=PPtō=THEME2 (similar is [the] kingdom of heavens is to leaven) (MtGl (Li) 13.33) • hitAnticip is us nu swiþor bismreC1=NPdat=THEME2 gelic þæt we þæt besprecað Sub=þætCl= THEME1 (it is now [to] us more like shame that we should complain about that) (Or3 11.82.33) • gyf hwa hwæt ungewealdes Sub=NP=THEME1 eallunga na gelic, þe hit gewealdes gedeð, ne byð þæt C1=þeCl=THEME2 gewurþe (if somebody something does unintentionally, that is not at all like that, that [= as if] it intentionally was done) (LawIICn 68.3 7) • Sub=NP=THEME1 [seo sibb] sie þæmAnticip gelicost þe mon nime ænne eles hio C1=þeCl=THEME2 dropan […] (it [peace] be that most like that, that [= as if] somebody a drop of oil took […]) (Or4 7.97.28) 1 2 1 dat 1 Ⓑ [S = NP; pers/abst; THEME , THEME ] [C = -anim; NP ; THEME , 2 Sub=NP=THEMES1+2 C1=NPdat=THEMES1+2 THEME ] • ealle gesceafta þu gesceope him gelice (all creatures you created to them [= to one another] similar) (Bo 33.79.31 7) Sub==NP=THEMES1+2 emnece him sylfumC1=NPdat=THEMES1+2 • Ac ealle þry hadas synt ⁊ gelice (But all three persons coeternal between themselves are & coequal) (PsCaI (Lindelöf) 19(15).26) 1 1 Ⓒ [S = abst; Cl Fin: swā/þæt/þe (anticipated by hit); THEME ] [C = abst; Cl Fin: 2 Anticip bið gelice swa man mid wætere þone swā; THEME ] • Emne hit Sub=swāCl=THEME1 weallendan wylm agiote , þæt he leng me mot rixian (Likewise, it will be like that [as if] somebody with water the flowing flame would soak) (HomS 40.3 (ScraggVerc 10) 129) ❸ S+V+Adj+(C1)+C2: [V = Cop bēon/wesan] [S = NP; pers/abst; THEME1, 2 1 2 2 THEME ] [(C ); pers, abst; THEME ] [C ; -anim; PPon; SCOPE] • Sub=NP=THEMES1+2 [iacob and esau] næron þeah gelice on þeawum ne on lifes hi 43 Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes geearnungumC2=PPon=SCOPE (they [Jacob and Esau] were not, however, alike in customs nor in life’s earnings) (ÆCHom I, 7, 110.20) ❹ S+V+Adj+(C1)+(C2): [V = Cop bēon/wesan] [S = ±anim; NP; 2 1 2 THEME 1 , 2 ] [(C ) = anim, abst; THEME reciprocity: > S] [(C ) = -anim; SCOPE] • Ealle weSub=NP=THEMES1+2 sind gelice ætforan gode (We all are alike before God) Sub=NP=THEME1 and forhyded (ÆCHom I, 19, 260.24) • Se forholena cræft Sub=NP=THEME2 god ne bið ællunga gelice (The hidden skill and the concealed good will not be atl all alike) (Instr 69) THEME The patterns for the “similarity” adjectives are shown in Table 15 and the formal realization of the complements in Table 16. Table 15. Complementation patterns of adjectives of “similarity” S+V+Adj+C +C S+V+Adj+C +(C S+V+Adj+(C )+C S+V+Adj+(C )+(C 2 ) 2 ) + + + + + + – + – + + + 1 anlīc gelīc ungelīc 1 2 1 1 2 Table 16. Formal realization of adjectives of “similarity” Dative NP C gelīc anlīc ungelīc 1 + + + C 2 + Genitive NP C 1 + C 2 Accusative NP C 1 C + 2 PP C Finite Clause 2 1 C tō in, on on on C1 C2 + + + 7.- CONCLUSIONS Although the vast majority of OE adjectives are intransitive and do not require a complement, a substantial number of them are transitive and some fifty odd of these can be further considered to be ditransitive. OE ditransitive adjectives belong to just a few semantic classes (“gratitude,” “generosity,” “obedience,” “guilt and responsibility,” “deserving,” “agreement,” and “similarity”). Strictly speaking, the syntactic term ditransitive should apply only to adjectives which are always used with two complements (C1 and C2), but the broader definition I have used — ditransitive 44 Old English ditransitive adjectives adjectives are three-place adjectival predicates — allows me to include adjectives which are found with just one complement, that is, with an overt argument and with a covert, but recoverable, argument. This may be due either to the fact that tokens have not survived in extant texts (and are not found in the DOEC) or to the fact that they simply disallowed such syntactic patterns with two complements. However, it is on the grounds of their close semantic relationship to other adjectives of which there are extant examples that I posit, and hope to have shown, that their semantic structure is the same. This approach permits to organize the dictionary entries of these adjectives in the lexicon in a highly systematic way. It also allows for efficient comparison and crossreferencing between semantically- and lexically-related adjectives. A. Alcaraz-Sintes University of Jaén REFERENCES Alcaraz-Sintes, Alejandro 2006a: Proposal for a Dictionary of Syntactic and Semantic Complementation of Old English Adjectives. Selected Proceedings of the 2005 Symposium on New Approaches in English Historical Lexis (HEL-LEX). McConchie R. W. & al. eds. 34–40. Somerville (Ma.): Cascadilla Proceedings Project. 14/04/2006. www.lingref.com, document #1344 Alcaraz-Sintes, Alejandro 2006b: La complementación del adjetivo en inglés antiguo. Jaén: Servicio de Publicaciones de la Universidad de Jaén. Alcaraz-Sintes, Alejandro 2006c: Old English Ditransitive Adjectives. Paper delivered at the 18th SELIM Conference, University of Málaga. Alcaraz-Sintes, Alejandro In progress: A Dictionary of Adjective Semantic and Syntactic Complementation. 45 Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes Biber, Douglas, Susan Conrad and Geoffrey Leech 2002: Longman Student Grammar of Spoken and Written English. Harlow, Essex: Longman, Pearson Education Limited. Bolinger, Dwight L. 1961: Syntactic Blends and Other Matters. Language 37. 366–381. Bolinger, Dwight L. & A. Donald Sears 1981[1968]: Aspects of Language. Third edition. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. Bosworth, Joseph and T. Northcote Toller 1921[1898]: An Anglo-Saxon Dictionary. Based on the Manuscript Collections of the Late Joseph Bosworth. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Comesaña-Rincón, Joaquín 1986: La complementación adjetiva en inglés contemporáneo. PhD Thesis. Universidad de Sevilla. Comesaña-Rincón, Joaquín 1992: La modificación adjetiva de sustantivos deverbales en inglés: hacia una tipología transitiva de los adjetivos. Actas del IX Congreso de AESLA. Congreso Nacional de la Asociacion Española de Linguistica Aplicada. Valladolid. Servicio Editorial de la Universidad del País Vasco. 1992. 179–189. Comesaña-Rincón, Joaquín 1998: La transitividad adjetiva: hacia una tipología completiva del adjetivo inglés. Transitivity Revisited. Montserrat Martínez Vázquez. Ed. 187–199. Huelva: Servicio de Publicaciones de la Universidad de Huelva. Comesaña-Rincón, Joaquín 2001a: Decoding and Encoding Grammatical Information in Adjectival Entries: The Basics. Atlantis, XXIII 1, 27– 40. Comesaña-Rincón, Joaquín 2001b: Decoding and Encoding Grammatical Information in Adjectival Entries: Processes and Cases. Atlantis, XXIII 2, 31–48. 46 Old English ditransitive adjectives Cook, Walter A. S. J. 1998: Case Grammar Applied. Publications in Linguistics 127. Dallas (Texas): The Summer Institute of Linguistics and The University of Texas at Arlington. Denison, David 1993: English Historical Syntax. London and New York: Longman. DOE. The Dictionary of Old English – A to F. Antonette diPaolo Healey. Ed. Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies. DOEC. The Dictionary of Old English Corpus in Electronic Form. 2004. diPaolo Healey, Antonette, Dorothy Holland, Joan Haines, David McDougall, Ian McDougall & Xin Xiang. Toronto: DOE Project. Fillmore, Charles J. 1968: The Case for Case. Universals in Linguistic Theory. Emmon Bach and Robert Harms. Eds. 1–88. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. Fischer, Olga & Wim Van der Wurff. 2006: Syntax. Hogg, Richard & David Denison. Eds. 109-198. A History of the English Language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Herbst, Thomas 2004: A Valency Dictionary of English: a Corpus-Based Analysis of the Complementation Patterns of English Verbs, Nouns and Adjectives. Topics in English Linguistics 40. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Huddleston, Rodney & Geoffrey K. Pullum 2002: The Cambridge Grammar of the English Language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lees, Robert B. 1960: A Multiply Ambiguous Adjectival Construction in English. Language 36. 207–221. Maling, Joan 1983: Transitive Adjectives: A Case of Categorial Reanalysis. Linguistic Categories: Auxiliaries and Related Puzzles. Frank Heny and B. Richards. Eds. 253–289. Dordrecht: Foris. Mitchell, Bruce 1985: Old English Syntax. Oxford: Clarendon Press. 47 Alejandro Alcaraz-Sintes OED. The Oxford English Dictionary Second Edition on Compact Disk. Version 3.0. 2002[1989]. Simpson, Joseph & Edmund Weiner. Eds. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Quirk, Randolph, Sidney Greenbaum, Geoffrey Leech & Jan Svartvik 1985: A Comprehensive Grammar of the English Language. London and New York: Longman. Trask, R. Larry 1993: A Dictionary of Grammatical Terms in Linguistics. London and New York: Routledge. Tucker, Gordon H. 1998: The Lexicogrammar of Adjectives. A Systemic Functional Approach to Lexis. London and New York: Cassell. Visser, Frederic Th. 1963–1973: An Historical Syntax of the English Language. Leiden: E. J. Brill. Wülfing, J. Ernst 1894–1901: Die Syntax in den Werken Alfreds des Grossen. Bonn: B. Hanstein’s. *†* 48 OLD ENGLISH PUNCTUATION REVISITED: THE CASE OF THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO SAINT MATTHEW1 Abstract Punctuation has been traditionally neglected by scholars and editors of Old and Middle English texts due to the apparent ambiguity and lack of consistency of the system, to the extent that it is often silently modernized in contemporary editions. However, recent studies have shown that there exists certain regularity in the use of these punctuation marks. In the light of this, the aim of this paper is to offer an account of the use and function of such marks in the Old English version of The Gospel according to Saint Matthew (Cambridge University Library, MS Corpus Christi College 140). For this purpose, the analysis is organised into four levels: macrotextual, sentential, clausal and phrasal. Keywords: function, modernization, Old English, punctuation, The Gospel according to Saint Matthew. Resumen Tradicionalmente, la puntuación ha recibido escasa atención por parte de académicos y editores de textos en inglés antiguo y medio debido a la aparente ambigüedad y falta de consistencia que muestra tal sistema, hasta el punto de que se moderniza en las ediciones contemporáneas. Sin embargo, estudios recientes han mostrado que existe una cierta regularidad en el uso de los signos de puntuación. De acuerdo con esto, el objetivo del presente artículo es ofrecer un análisis de los usos y funciones de dichos signos en la versión en inglés antiguo del Evangelio según San Mateo (Cambridge University Library, MS Corpus Christi College 140). Para ello, el análisis se organiza en cuatro planos: macrotextual, oracional, frasal y sintagmático. Palabras clave: función, inglés antiguo, modernización, puntuación, Evangelio según San Mateo. INTRODUCTION Punctuation in Old and Middle English manuscripts has eluded detailed study, which could be put down to a number of attested facts, among them: a) the lack of systematization in punctuation, as practices may vary from scriptorium to scriptorium, from scribe to scribe and from text-type to text-type, so that, as Mitchell has pointed out, “each manuscript and / or text may demand individual treatment” (1980: 412), a view also shared by Heyworth when signalling the non-systematic introduction of these marks in many manuscripts (1981: 139); b) the overlapping functions of punctuation marks in 1 The present research has been funded by the Spanish Ministry of Science and Technology (grant number HUM2004-01075/FILO). This grant is hereby gratefully acknowledged. Teresa Marqués-Aguado, Selim 13 (2005-2006): 47—68 Teresa Marqués Aguado Old and Middle English (Lucas 1971: 19); and c) the outstanding differences between the mediaeval and PDE punctuation systems (Zeeman 1956: 11). However, this situation changed in the 1970s after the publication of two ground-breaking articles, by Lucas (1971) and Arakelian (1975), as both concluded that punctuation in these early periods was far from haphazard, even though the latter also hinted that 100% consistency should not be expected (1975: 616). More recently, other scholars have contributed to the study of Old and Middle English punctuation, evincing the existence of certain tendencies in the use of punctuation within the same hand, i.e. particular symbols are likely to feature sentential relations (e.g. nominal, adjectival and adverbial clauses). This is the case of Heyworth (1981) or Mitchell (1980), as well as Gradon (1983), Parkes (1978), Alonso-Almeida (2002), RodríguezÁlvarez (1999), Calle-Martín (2004), Esteban-Segura (2005) and Calle-Martín and Miranda-García (2005). Two recurrent issues in the literature on historical punctuation are invoked: its function and its modernization. As for its function, there has been a traditional opposition between the grammatical and the rhetorical ones. The first one refers to punctuation as a means to make grammatical structures explicit and, therefore, to convey the correct meaning. On the contrary, the rhetorical function implies that punctuation indicates the pauses that should be introduced when reading aloud. Lucas added a third function to this catalogue, the macro-textual one, according to which punctuation helps to clarify “the arrangement and lay-out of the text” (1971: 5). This issue of function has been dealt with by several scholars, such as Arakelian, who attributes punctuation a grammatical function (1975: 615)2, as opposed to Parkes (1992: 36) or Morgan (1952: 164), who opt for the rhetorical one. In general, the received view seems to veer towards the 2 In the 13th century, Bene of Florence argued against the possibility of punctuation being used to mark intonation or accent, although he was not against the rhetorical function of punctuation (Parkes 1992: 45). 50 Old English punctuation revisted rhetorical function, as Blake (1979: 67) or Strang (1994: 343-345) defend. Likewise, Grünberg, when analysing the West-Saxon version of the Gospels, concludes that the grammatical function should be excluded, asserting that “in considering these symbols it should be clearly borne in mind that they served to denote intonation: the Gospels were used for liturgical reading” (1967: 27)3. Nevertheless, this is not a clear-cut distinction, as some other scholars have highlighted. This is the case of Zeeman (1956: 18), Harlow (1959: 2) or Mitchell (1980: 393), who defend that it is a combination of both functions that we find in most texts. Regarding modernization, the dilemma lies not only on whether punctuation should be modernized or not4, but on how this process should be eventually carried out, given the unlikeness between the mediaeval and the PDE systems: whereas in mediaeval punctuation the rhetorical function plays an important role, in PDE punctuation is essentially syntactic (Quirk 1999: 1611; Blake 1979: 67). In this line, Mitchell offers three possibilities: “the manuscript punctuation, modern punctuation, or a compromise between the two” (1980: 388), clearly preferring the first one for scholarly audiences5. Contrary to his opinion, most modern editions have modernized punctuation without making explicit the criteria followed. A revealing example is Goolden’s edition of the Old English Apollonius of Tyre (1954). As opposed to these methods, the uses of either critical apparatuses for punctuation variants (Heyworth 1981: 155) or of functional equivalents (Alonso-Almeida 2002: 227-228; Calle-Martín 2004: 421) have been recently proposed as transparent methods to modernize manuscript punctuation. In this vein, Calle-Martín suggests that “the modern equivalent, therefore, depends on the ultimate 3 Although the use of the rhetorical function is obvious, the grammatical one should not be excluded when analysing this text, as we argue in the conclusions. 4 For instance, Blake opposes modernization (1979: 70). 5 Ronberg also concluded that when editing Renaissance literary works, texts should be presented “in accordance with the original views of rhetorical syntax, suggested so powerfully by the original punctuation” (1995: 61). 51 Teresa Marqués Aguado function of each mark of punctuation” (2004: 421), so that the classification of uses will be useful to propose modern counterparts for mediaeval punctuation (Marqués-Aguado 2005: 333-339). These counterparts will be ultimately drawn from Quirk’s description of the uses of PDE punctuation marks (1999: 1609-1639) and from Truss’ account of PDE punctuation usage (2003). In the light of this, the present study analyses the punctuation found in the West-Saxon version of the Gospel according to St. Matthew, which is found in the Corpus manuscript (folios 2r-45v), housed in the Corpus Christi College Library (Cambridge) under the reference 140. The results obtained from the study of punctuation in context will help us to deal with the function it fulfils, as well as to offer a proposal for modernization, as suggested above. METHODOLOGY In order to describe the uses of punctuation marks in context, the complete set of examples must be first obtained. For this reason, we resorted to the annotated version of the Gospel, where each item of the text was provided with the vowel-length marker so as to prevent ambiguity, as in the case of minimal pairs, such as þē vs. þe. The annotations, in turn, comprised not only the lemma, but also the tag (which included information as regards class and accidence) and the translation into PDE (Marqués-Aguado 2005). This version was taken as input for the OEC (Old English Concordancer Miranda-García & al. 2006), which is a software tool purposely designed to retrieve morphosyntactic information from properly annotated Old English corpora. In our case, all the instances of punctuation symbols were obtained from the application, together with a context of 5 words before and after each of them so as to determine their uses. These examples were pasted onto an Excel spreadsheet, separating the different marks to prevent confusion. Moreover, each example was split into three parts (the context before the mark, the mark itself and the five words following it) which were subsequently allocated to three cells of the same row. Finally, these examples were sorted 52 Old English punctuation revisted according to the first word after the mark so as to ease the subsequent task of classification. INVENTORY OF PUNCTUATION MARKS The symbols found in this version of the Gospel according to St. Matthew, which was probably written in the 11th century6, illustrate the system of positurae which was developed in the 8th century and was used until the 11th. With the term positurae we refer to the set of punctuation marks that progressively replaced the Latin system of distinctiones. The ultimate reason for this gradual substitution is to be associated with positurae’s univocal marking to distinguish a statement from a question and with their eye-catching value (Parkes 1992: 37). This system comprises four marks, which are found in the text under study with the exception of the punctus interrogativus: The punctus versus (;) (1,053 occurrences), which is the most common one. The punctus elevatus () (344 occurrences)7. The punctus (.) (995 occurrences), which is sometimes placed slightly above the line of writing. In addition to these three positurae, the use of the section marker (represented here by the paraph 〈¶〉) has to be noted. It may appear either in isolation, thus separating chapters, or in conjunction with the tilde (represented here by 〈~〉), which is placed in the margin of the folio to highlight the presence of the former. USES AND FUNCTIONS OF PUNCTUATION MARKS Once the examples of punctuation marks have been obtained, a classification of their uses becomes essential in order to fulfil our initial objectives. For 6 This date has been suggested by Skeat (1871: vi) and Liuzza (1994: xxvi). 7 The use of the punctus elevatus might be taken as a stylistic feature in favour of the existence of two hands (or two different people inserting punctuation marks) in the text, since less than 40 examples are found from chapter 21 onwards (11.62%). 53 Teresa Marqués Aguado practical purposes, these will be grouped according to four levels (namely, macro-textual, sentential, clausal and phrasal). In each case, a commentary on the possible function of punctuation, as well as a proposal for modernization, will be offered. The numbers between brackets in front of the examples serve to identify them, the references of which include both the folio and the lines where they are found. 1) MACRO-TEXTUAL LEVEL The macro-textual level is concerned with macro-textual units, i.e. chapters, paragraphs and sense-units. The prevailing marks at this level are the punctus versus and the section marker. The latter normally co-occurs with positurae, since it is chiefly intended as a visual marker. The main uses of punctuation at this level comprise: A) TO SEPARATE CHAPTERS The punctus versus is the commonest marker to separate chapters, as shown in (1), since 25 out of the 28 chapters of this Gospel are marked off in this way8. Chapter divisions are sometimes (11 instances) additionally indicated by means of the section marker without the tilde, as illustrated in example (2)9: (1) Đā gemiltsode hē him. and hyra ēagan æthrān. and hig sōna gesāwon. and fyligdon him; And þā hē genēalǣhte hierusalem. and cōm tō bethfage tō oliuetes dūne þā sende hē hys twēgen leorningcnihtas (f.29v, 20-25) (2) tō his rīpe; ¶ And tōsomne gecīgydum (f.13r, 27) B) TO SEPARATE PARAGRAPHS Paragraphs in the Gospel must be understood as merely physical units, that is, they do not necessarily contain a complete thought, as in current usage 8 The end of the remaining 3 chapters is signalled by means of a punctus elevatus (f.21v, 8 – chapter 14), Ø (f..23r, 20-21 – chapter 15) and a punctus (f.45v, 9-10 – chapter 28). 9 The distribution of the section marker to separate chapters is an uneven one, as it appears in chapters 10, 11, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 22, 24, 26 and 27. 54 Old English punctuation revisted (Quirk 1999: 1624). Paragraphs in the text are usually indicated by the presence of the punctus versus, as seen in example (3). The exception is f.2v, 12, where the punctus is found10: (3) and hī gegaderigað hys gecorenan. of fēower middaneardes endum of heofona hēahnyssum oð hyra gemǣru; Leornigeað bīgspell be þām fīctrēowwe þonne hys twig byþ hnesce and lēaf ācennede. gē witun  sumor ys gehende (f.36r, 14-20) C) TO MARK SEMANTICALLY-INDEPENDENT SENSE-UNITS Sense or topic changes are introduced in 6 occasions by means of the section marker accompanied by the tilde, along with either the punctus (1 example) or the punctus versus (5 instances), as observed in example (4) below: (4) ~ þǣr byþ wōp and tōþa grist|bitung; Witodlīce manega synt gelaþode and fēawa gecorene; ¶ Đā ongunnon þā pharisei rǣdan  hig woldon þone hǣlend on hys sprǣce befōn (ff.32r, 27 - 32v, 4) However, the section marker is not compulsory, and in that case the punctus versus appears isolatedly (5): (5) Eornostlīce ealle cnēoressa fram abrahame oð dauid. synd fēowertyne cnēoressa. and fram dauide oð babilonis gelēorednysse fēowertyne cnēoressa and fram babilonis gelēorednesse oð crīst. fēowertyne cnēoressa. Sōþlīce þus wæs crīstes cnēores; Đā þæs hǣlendes mōdor maria wæs iosepe beweddod. ǣr hī tōsomne becōmun hēo wæs gemēt on innoðe hæbbende. of þām hālegan gāste; (f.2v, 8-18) Punctuation may also be used to call attention to what follows, i.e. a conclusion or explanation of the preceding fragment, which may highlight an important idea from the religious standpoint. More than half of the examples retrieved include the punctus versus, as in example (6). The section marker, along with the punctus versus, is also encountered on two occasions, as in (7): 10 In the first four chapters, all paragraphs end with a Latin inscription in a different hand. Given their probably late date of insertion, they have not been taken into consideration. 55 Teresa Marqués Aguado (6) Twēgen bēoþ on bedde. ān byð genumen and ōþer byð lǣfed; Wacigeað witodlīce forþām þe gē nyton on hwylcyre tīde ēower hlāford cuman wyle; (f.36v, 7-10) (7) ~ ¶ ; Se þe nys mid mē hē is ongēn mē. and se þe ne gaderaþ mid mē hē tōwyrpð; (f.17r, 23-25) The analysis of punctuation at the macro-textual level indicates that the different markers help to clarify the general layout of the text in large units, thus fulfilling the macro-textual function referred to by Lucas (1971: 5). As far as the equivalence with PDE punctuation marks is concerned, the OE positurae can be rendered by a full stop or by a colon when dealing with conclusions or explanations (Quirk 1999: 1621-1624). 2) SENTENTIAL LEVEL At sentential level, independent sentences as well as the relationships established between clauses are included. In this case, the function of punctuation will be dealt with at the end of the section, unlike the proposal for modernization, which is individually suggested for each use. The main uses at this level comprise: A) TO MARK INDEPENDENT SENTENCES Punctuation may be used at sentential level to mark independent sentences, both simple and complex ones, as in examples (8) and (9), respectively, where the punctus versus accomplishes this function. Notice that in example (8) the subordinate clause precedes the main one, and between them a punctus elevatus has been inserted. The other two positurae are used sometimes: for instance, the punctus may appear to signal the end of interrogative sentences (10): (8) Eornustlīce þonne ðū þīne ælmessan sylle ne blāwe man bȳman beforan þē swā līceteras dōð on gesomnunegum and on wīcum  hī sīn geārwurþode fram mannum; Sōð ic secge ēow hī onfēngon hyra mēde; Sōþlīce þonne þū þīne ælmessan dō nyte þīn wynstre hwæt dō þīn swȳþre  þīn ælmesse sȳ on dīglum and þīn fæder hit āgylt þē se þe gesyhþ on dīglum; (f.8r, 1-7) 56 Old English punctuation revisted (9) Sōþlīce ic secge ēow būton ēower rihtwīsnyss māre sȳ þonne þǣra wrītera and sundorhālgena. ne gā gē on heofonan rīce; Gē gehȳrdon  gecweden wæs on ealdum tīdum; Ne ofslēh þū se þe ofslīhð se byþ dōme scyldig; (f.6v, 1519) (10) þā embe þā endlyftan tīde hē ūtēode and funde ōþre standende. and þā sǣde hē; Hwȳ stande gē hēr eallne dæg īdele. þā cwǣdon hig forþām þe ūs nān mann ne hȳrode; (f.28v, 4-7) In cases such as the ones described above, the stop is to be taken as the most appropriate modern counterpart (Quirk 1999: 1623). Question marks should be used for questions (Truss 2003: 141). B) TO MARK JUXTAPOSED SENTENCES Though syntactically independent, juxtaposed sentences retain semantic links between them. For this purpose, the three positurae overlap and we may encounter not only statements —see example (11)—, but also commands or questions: (11) Ealle heora worc hig dōð  menn hī gesēon; Hig tōbrǣdaþ hyra healsbæc and mǣrsiað heora rēafa fnadu; (f.33v, 12-14) Special attention should be devoted to the connection established between the sentences constituting the genealogy of Jesus Christ, which are signalled by means of any of the three positurae—there are 40 instances—, as in (12). Similarly, there is an enumeration of miracles marked with puncti elevati (13). The beginnings of the 9 Beatitudes are highlighted with puncti versi, as observed in (14). In this example the punctus elevatus is used to mark the beginning of a subordinate clause, as we will discuss in sub-heading d): (12) ābia gestrȳnde Asa Asa gestrȳnde iosaphath; Iosaphath gestrȳnde ioram. Ioras gestrȳnde oziam; (f.2r, 14-16) (13) blinde gesēoþ healte gāð hrēofe synt āclǣnsude dēafe gehȳraþ (f.15r, 1719) (14) ēadige synt þā gāstlīcan þearfan forþām hyra ys heofena rīce; Ēadige synt þā līðan forþām þe hī eorðan āgun; (f.6r, 10-12) 57 Teresa Marqués Aguado In any case the likeliest PDE equivalents are either the stop or the semicolon, which relates semantically-linked sentences lacking connectors (Quirk 1999: 1623). Question marks should be inserted at the end of questions. C) TO MARK COORDINATE CLAUSES Coordinate clauses can be signalled by means of whichever positurae. In (15) the copulative coordinator and is preceded by a punctus versus, whereas the clauses introduced by the correlative coordinators ne… ne (16) and oþþe… oþþe (17) are marked by either a punctus or a punctus elevatus: (15) manega wītegan and rihtwīse gewilnudon þā þing tō gesēonne þe gē gesēoþ and hig ne gesāwon; and gehȳran þā þing þe gē | gehȳrað. and hig ne gehȳrdon; (f.18v, 25 – 19r, 1) r (16) Witodlīce ne wīfiað hig. ne hig ne ceorliaþ on þām ǣryste (fol.33 , 4-5) (17) Ne mæg nān man twām hlāfordum þēowian oððe hē sōðlīce ǣnne hatað and ōðerne lufaþ oððe hē bið ānum gehȳrsum. and ōðrum ungehyrsum; (fol.8v, 22-24) and may introduce main (18) and subordinate (19) clauses when followed by an adverb or a subordinator, and it may also appear in anastrophes11 (20): (18) Đā herodes  gehȳrde ðā wearð hē gedrēfed and eal hierosolimwaru mid him and þā gegaderode herodes ealle ealdras þǣra sācerda and folces wrīteras (f.3r, 12-15) (19) Gyf þīn hand oððe þīn fōt þē swīcað. āceorf hyne of and āwurp fram þē; Betere þē ys  þū gā wanhāl oþþe healt tō līfe. þonne þū hæbbe twā handa and twēgen fēt. and sȳ on ēce fȳr āsend; And gyf þīn ēage þē swīcað āhola hyt ūt 11 Anastrophe is defined in the Oxford English Dictionary as “inversion, or unusual arrangement, of the words or clauses of a sentence” and in the Diccionario de la Real Academia de la Lengua as “inversión en el orden de las palabras de una oración”. According to its Greek etymology, anastrophe refers to the practice of changing the standard element order for the sake of emphasis. Here we refer exclusively to prepositional anastrophes wherein the preposition follows the object. In this case, the preposition is termed postposition (Fakundiny 1970: 31; Mitchell 1985: 448). 58 Old English punctuation revisted and āwurp hyt fram þē; Betere þē ys mid ānum ēage on līfe tō gānne | þonne þū sī mid twām āsend on helle fȳr; (ff.25v, 22 – 26r, 1) (20) Hē genēalǣhte þā and hig æthrān. and him tō cwǣþ. Ārīsað and ne ondrǣdaþ ēow (f.24v, 10-12) From these instances we may conclude that the most suitable PDE counterparts are either the comma (Quirk 1999: 1615) or no punctuation symbol at all. D) TO MARK SUBORDINATE CLAUSES The different types of subordinate clauses are associated with different punctuation marks. Thus, for instance, the punctus versus is almost exclusively used in direct speech12, although other marks are also possible in this context, as pointed out in (20). In (21), for instance, direct speech begins after a punctus versus, and it finishes with the same mark: (21) and hē sǣde him; Cumað æfter mē and ic dō  gyt bēoð manna fisceras; And hī þǣrrihte forlēton hyra net and him fyligdon; (f.5v, 17-19) The same pointing is observed with vocative expressions which are included within direct speech and introduced by the interjections ēalā, wā or lā. In this case, the punctus versus appears in 33 examples —as in (22)—, whereas the remaining 7 are preceded by either a punctus elevatus or a punctus. Nevertheless, there are also examples where punctuation is missing (18% of the instances), as shown in (23): (22) Đā andswarode hē him; Ēalā gē ungelēafulle and þwȳre cnēores hū lange bēo ic mid ēow (f.25r, 5-6) (23) þā se hǣlend hyra fācn gehȳrde þā cwæð hē lā līcceteras hwȳ fandige gē mīn ætgȳwað mē þæs gafoles mynyt. (f.32v, 10-12) 12 As for direct speech, Warner (1982: 158) places it outside the boundaries of subordination. However, Quirk includes it in the chapter on complex sentences and examines several arguments to consider it subordinate (1999: 1020-1024). 59 Teresa Marqués Aguado Parables are also included in speeches. Of the 10 instances found, 4 begin after the verb cweþan followed by a punctus (24), whereas the other 6 are independent sentences inserted within a longer speech, wherein a punctus versus appears, as in (25). Notice that in this example, a punctus is found after gelīc, although this is the only instance: (24) Hē rehte him þā gȳt ōþer bīgspel þus cweþende. heofena rīce is geworden gelīc senepes corne (f.19v, 3-5) (25) þā hē funde  ān dēorwyrðe meregrot þā ēode hē and sealde eall  hē āhte and bohte  meregrot; Eft is heofena rīce gelīc. āsendum nette on þā sǣ and of ǣlcum fisccynne gadrigendum (f.20r, 11-13) In turn, most relative clauses introduced by invariable þe or by the demonstrative se, sēo, þæt lack punctuation (26), and only some examples are preceded by the punctus (27). In (28) the end of the relative clause is marked with a punctus, maybe in an attempt to prevent confusion, owing to the repetition of the verb gǣþ. Likewise, punctuation is also absent between headless clauses (introduced by se þe and usually placed in front of the main clause) and main ones, although, again, the punctus may appear. Both possibilities are illustrated in (29): (26) Sōðlīce þā hyt ǣfen wæs cōm sum welī mann of arimathia þæs nama wæs iosep. se sylfa wæs þæs hǣlyndes leorningcniht (f.44r, 14-16) (27) Sōþlīce se þe beswīcð ǣnne of ðyssum lȳtlingum. þe on mē gelȳfað. betere him ys  ān cwyrnstān sī tō hys swȳran gecnytt. and sī besenced on sǣs grund; (f.25v, 16-19) (28) ne ongyte gē  eall  on þonne mūþ gǣþ. gǣð on þā wāmbe and byþ on forþgang āsend (f.22r, 19-20) (29) Sōþlīce se þe sēgð hys brēðer þū āwordena. hē byð geþeahte scyldig; Se þe sēgð þū stunta se byþ scyldig helle fȳres; (f.6v, 20-22) Regarding adverbial clauses, the punctus is by far the most widely used mark (30), as it more than triples the instances of the punctus elevatus (31), as well as (8) above. No punctuation is also possible, as in (6): (30) Geblissa þū gōda þēowa and getrȳwa. forþām ðe þū wǣre getrȳwe. ofer fēawa (f.37v, 14-15) 60 Old English punctuation revisted (31) Gyf þū wylt bēon fullfremed gā and becȳp eall  þū āhst and syle hyt þearfum and þonne hæfst þū goldhord on heofone. (f.27v, 22-24) In most cases, the PDE equivalent is the comma —especially where the subordinate precedes the main clause—, or Ø. Inverted commas (Quirk 1999: 1630-1631) are also required for direct speech. As for the specific function of punctuation at this level, we can find cases in which the grammatical function prevails, as in uses a), b) and c), and others where the rhetorical function plays an important role, as in anastrophes or the Beatitudes. Nevertheless, in subordination both functions meet. 3) CLAUSAL LEVEL At this level, punctuation is employed to signal the relations established within the clause domain, where the punctus clearly prevails over the punctus elevatus. In this case, the PDE counterpart will be offered at the end of this section, together with the discussion about the function of punctuation. The main uses listed here are the following: A) TO DISTINGUISH THE VOCATIVE EXPRESSION FROM THE REST OF THE CLAUSE Vocative expressions are distinguished from the rest of the clause by means of puncti elevati and, mostly, by puncti (32), although 6 of the 22 examples found lack punctuation, as in (22) and (23) above, and (33) here: (32) and þonne hē gewordyn byð gē gedōð hyne helle bearn. twȳfealdlīcor þonne ēow; Wā ēow blindan lāttēowas. gē secgeað swānmn hwylc swā swereþ on temple  hē ys nāht (f.34r, 5-8) (33) Wā ēow bōcyras and pharisei līccetteras forþām. gē befarað sǣ and eorþan (f.34r, 2-4) In (33), forþām should be taken as an adverb of result and not as a conjunction of cause, because, if the latter (either forþām or forþām þe), punctuation comes first most of the times, as commented in relation to subordinate clauses. 61 Teresa Marqués Aguado B) TO MARK ELEMENTS BELONGING TO THE SAME CLAUSE The punctus (and, occasionally, the punctus elevatus) fulfils this function in the following contexts: 1. To separate different elements. For instance, in (34) and (35) it separates the VP from the NP. (34) Sōþlīce þā se hǣlend inēode on capharnaum. þā genēalǣhte hym. ān hundredes ealdor. hyne biddende and þus cweðende (f.10v, 14-17) (35)  wǣre gefylled. þæs wītegan cwyde ic ātȳne mīnne mūþ mid bīgspellum (f.19v, 14-15) (36) nū þīn cyning þē cymð tō gedæfte. and rīt uppan tamre assene and hyre folan. (f.30r, 6-7) The last example included under this sub-heading, (36), is an instance of anastrophe (type C according to Mitchell 1985: 447) which has passed unnoticed to Bosworth, who even rearranges the word-order, rewriting it as Đín cyning cymþ to ðé (1991: 383). We assume that punctuation here averts the reading þe cymð to gedæfte where þe is a relative particle rather than a 2nd person pronoun. Actually, it clearly indicates that preposition tō does not govern adjective gedæfte, thus highlighting the preposition stranding, as well as the rhetorical and grammatical values. 2. To distinguish a long element from the subsequent one. A clear example is (37), where the punctus marks the NP: (37) Eornostlīce ealle cnēoressa fram abrahame oð dauid. synd fēowertyne cnēoressa (f.2v, 8-9) 3.- To relate the two particles in correlative constructions such as fram… oþ / tō, þe… þe, and… and, ne… ne, ān… ōþer, and ān… ān 62 Old English punctuation revisted In spite of not being fully systematic throughout the Gospel, these constructions are rendered by means of puncti (38), excepting ān… ān, which entails the use of the punctus elevatus followed by and (39): (38)  ofer ēow cume ǣlc rihtwīs blōd þe wæs āgoten ofer eorþan. fram abelys blōde þæs rihtwīsan. oð zacharias blōd barachias suna (f.34v, 21-24) (39) sēge  þās mīne twēgen suna sittan ān on þīne swīþran healfe and ān on þīne wynstran on þīnum rīce; (f.29r, 10-12) All in all, the function of punctuation at clausal level is the grammatical one, excepting vocative structures, where punctuation also signals the end of their rising tone, and could therefore be also interpreted as a rhetorical marker. As for the PDE counterparts, Ø is the most common one, though commas may be encountered with vocatives and when marking long elements (Quirk 1999: 1627-1628). 4) PHRASAL LEVEL At this level, the scope of punctuation marks comprises the different elements of a given phrase. The inventory used at this level comprises both the punctus elevatus and the punctus. Once again, both the proposal for modernization and the function will be discussed at the end of this section. The most important uses are the following ones: A) TO RELATE THE ELEMENTS BELONGING TO A NOUN PHRASE Punctuation is used to mark the relations established within one NP. For instance, the punctus elevatus is used twice in order to highlight the connection either between a determiner and the head (40), or between a noun and its noun complement. As for the punctus, it enhances the connection between the noun and either a genitive or, mostly, an apposition (41): (40) and þonne sōna finde gyt āne assene getīggede and hyre folan mid | hyre (ff.29v, 26 – 30r, 1) (41) and hī nemnað his naman. emanuhel (f.3r, 1) 63 Teresa Marqués Aguado B) TO ENUMERATE PHRASES There is a clear example of enumeration, which is a list of evil actions (hence, all of them NP’s), joined by means of puncti elevati and, especially puncti, as shown in (42): (42) Of þǣre heortan cumaþ yfle geþancas mannslyhtas. unrihthǣmedu. forligru. stale. lēase gewitnyssa. tāllīce word þis synt þā ðing þe þone mann besmītað; Ne besmīt þone mann þēah hē unþwogenum handum ete. (f.22r, 22-26) C) TO MARK COORDINATE PHRASES Under this heading we include phrases coordinated by inserting both punctuation and a coordinator. These coordinators are copulative for the most part, although adversative and disjunctive ones are also present. We may refer to, for instance, the full list of the twelve apostles, whose names are connected by inserting puncti and the coordinator and (43), where enumeration is also present. Although the punctus clearly prevails, the punctus elevatus may also be found, as in (44). This tendency clearly contrasts the results rendered for copulative clauses, where any of the three positurae may appear: (43) Đis synt sōðlīce þǣra twelf apostola naman; Se forma is simon þe ys genemned pētrus. And Andreas hys brōðor. Iacobus zebedei. and Iohannes hys brōður. Philippus. and Bartholomeus. Thomas. and Matheus. Puplicanus and Iacobus alphei and Taddeus. Simon chananeus. and Iudas scarioth þe hyne belǣwde; (f.13v, 3-9) (44) Đū sōðlīce þonne ðū fæste smyra þīn hēafod. and þwēah þīne ansȳne  þū ne sȳ gesewen fram mannum fæstende Ac þīnum fæder þe ys on dīglum and þīn fæder þe gesyhð on dȳglum hit āgylt þē; (f.8v, 17-18) D) TO MARK OFF THE WORD Ǣ Given its shortness, the word ǣ is graphically separated from the immediate text to prevent confusion in 3 out of 10 occurrences. It is enclosed by puncti, which are a visual device employed to separate them from the surrounding 64 Old English punctuation revisted context (45), although Grünberg also suggested that these instances “possibly mark a more solemn intonation” (1967: 27-28): (45) ne gewīt fram þǣre. ǣ. ǣrþām ealle þing gewurðan (f.6v, 9-10) With the exception of d), whose function has already been described, it is the grammatical function that prevails at this level, excepting enumerations, which may also belong to the field of rhetoric. According to this description, only enumerations imply the insertion of commas (Quirk 1999: 1619). CONCLUSIONS In the previous section, the uses of punctuation marks in the Gospel according to St. Matthew have been classified into four levels and discussed accordingly, specifying the role of each mark. Taking into consideration the information offered here, some conclusions may be drawn from the study of the punctuation system: FIRST. Particular and consistent uses have been identified, thus revealing that the use of mediaeval punctuation is far from haphazard. In this vein, punctuation symbols can be allocated to particular levels: the section marker is an exclusively macro-textual indicator and the punctus versus is virtually restricted to the macro-textual and sentential levels, whereas the punctus elevatus and the punctus frequently overlap, although the latter is more common, especially at clausal level. Therefore, symbols might be ranked according to the level where they are found. SECOND. Notwithstanding this classification of symbols and their clear consistency at macro-textual level, for instance, overlapping is still to be noted at some points, as in the above-mentioned genealogy of Jesus Christ or the examples of juxtaposition and coordination. This phenomenon reveals that consistency relates to the function and uses of punctuation symbols, and not necessarily to a particular mark, as Rodríguez-Álvarez has noted in relation to 65 Teresa Marqués Aguado 15th-century legal documents (1999: 29). Nonetheless, the uses and functions outlined here for the different marks are not fully consistent in all the contexts identified, as Arakelian suggested (1975: 616). THIRD. In view of this analysis, the prevailing function of punctuation in the Gospel should be determined. On the one hand, the high number of vocative structures, instances of direct speech, etc., feature a text to be orally transmitted, and would thus indicate a prevalence of the rhetorical function. So does the use of discourse markers or the punctuation inserted in central religious tenets such the Beatitudes. On the other hand, punctuation in juxtaposition is eminently grammatical, as well as that found at phrasal level. However, the general tendency for punctuation is to mark both syntactic relations and pauses. This is the case of subordination, as discussed above. This mixture of functions suits to the main aim of the Gospel: this is a religious text aimed at Christening people, whose main access to culture was via oral transmission (rhetorical function), so that the message had to be properly organised in order to convey the orthodox doctrine of the Church (grammatical function). FOURTH. As regards modernization, functional equivalents have been sought. There is not a one-to-one relationship between an 11th-century punctuation symbol and a PDE equivalent, owing to the limited repertory of punctuation marks, which gives way to overlapping. Table 1, divided into the four levels dealt with here, summarizes the proposal for modernization. The punctuation marks for each use have been ranked according to their frequency. 66 Old English punctuation revisted Table 1. Proposal for modernization PUNCTUATION PDE USES AND FUNCTIONS MARKS COUNTERPA RT ;/¶ ;/. To separate chapters . To separate paragraphs . ¶ / ; /. To mark semantically-independent senseunits ./: ;//. To mark independent sentences ./? ;//. To mark juxtaposed sentences ./; ;//. To mark coordinate clauses ,/Ø ;//. To mark subordinate clauses , / “”/ Ø ./ To distinguish the vocative expression from the rest of the clause , ./ To mark elements belonging to the same clause ,/Ø ./ To relate the two particles in correlative constructions Ø /. To relate the elements belonging to an NP Ø /. To enumerate phrases ./ To mark coordinate phrases . To mark off the word ǣ , Ø/, Ø In the light of this analysis, as well as of those carried out by other scholars, more texts belonging to the Old and Middle English periods should be revised, bearing in mind that modernization, though complex, is possible, and that punctuation is not haphazardly used, but follows a relatively systematic set of principles. Teresa Marqués Aguado University of Málaga 67 Teresa Marqués Aguado REFERENCES Alonso Almeida, F. 2002: Punctuation Practice in a Late Medieval English Medical Remedybook. Folia Linguistica Historica 12. 1-2: 207-232. Arakelian, P. G. 1975: Punctuation in a Late Middle English Manuscript. Neuphilologische Mitteilungen 76: 614-624. Blake, N. F. 1979: The English Language in Medieval Literature. Methuen, London – New York. Bosworth, J. & T. N. Toller 1991[1898]: An Anglo-Saxon Dictionary. Oxford University Press, Oxford. 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L. 1981: The Punctuation of Middle English Texts. In Heyworth, P. L. ed. Medieval Studies for J. A. W. Bennett. Clarendon Press, Oxford: 139-157. Liuzza, R. M. ed. 1994-2000: The Old English Version of the Gospels. 2 vols. Oxford University Press, Oxford. Lucas, P. J. 1971: Sense-units and the Use of Punctuation-Markers in John Capgrave’s Chronicle. Archivum Linguisticum 2: 3-24. Marqués Aguado, T. 2005. El Evangelio según San Mateo en sajón occidental: edición electrónica, estudio léxico y sistema de puntuación. Unpublished MA Dissertation. University of Málaga, Málaga. Miranda García, A., J. Calle Martín & D. Moreno Olalla 2006: The Old English Apollonius of Tyre in the light of the Old English Concordancer. In Renouf, A & A. Kehoe eds. The changing face of corpus linguistics. Rodopi, Amsterdam – New York: 81-98. Mitchell, B. 1980: The Dangers of Disguise: Old English Texts in Modern Punctuation. Review of English Studies 31, 124: 385-413. Mitchell, B. 1985: Old English Syntax. 2 vols. Clarendon Press, Oxford. Morgan, M. M. 1952: A Treatise in Cadence. The Modern Language Review 48: 156-164. Parkes, M. B. 1978: Punctuation, or Pause and Effect. In Murphy, J. J. ed. Medieval Eloquence. Studies in the Theory and Practice of Medieval Rhetoric. University of California Press, Berkeley - Los Angeles – London: 127-42. Parkes, M. B. 1992: Pause or Effect. An Introduction to the History of Punctuation in the West. Scolar Press, Hants. Quirk, R., S. Greenbaum, G. Leech & J. Svartvik 1999[1972]: A Comprehensive Grammar of Contemporary English. Longman, London. 69 Teresa Marqués Aguado Rodríguez Álvarez, A. 1999: The Role of Punctuation in 15th-Century Vernacular Deeds. Folia Linguistica Historica 19, 1-2: 25-51. Ronberg, G. 1995: They Had Their Points: Punctuation and Interpretation in English Renaissance Literature. In Jucker, A. H. ed. Historical Pragmatics: Pragmatic Development in the history of English. John Benjamins, Amsterdam – Philadelphia: 55-63. Skeat, W. W. ed. 1871-1887: The Old English Gospels in Anglo-Saxon and Northumbrian Versions. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. Strang, B. M. H. 1994[1970]. A History of English. Routledge: London – New York. Truss, L. 2003: Eats, Shoots and Leaves. The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation. Profile Books, London. Warner, A. 1982: Complementation in Middle English and the Methodology of Historical Syntax. Croom Helm, London. Zeeman, E. 1956: Punctuation in an Early Manuscript of Love’s Mirror. Review of English Studies 7. 25: 11-18. *†* 70 IS THE TITLE OF THE OLD ENGLISH POEM THE DESCENT INTO HELL SUITABLE?1 Abstract The author studies and reevaluates the traditional acceptance of titles of OE poetry in the example of the case of the Exeter Book’s The Descent into Hell, also known as The Harrowing of Hell. Keywords: Old Enhlish Poetry, Descent into Hell. Resumen La autora estudia y reevalúa la adaptación tradicional de los títulos de la poesía del inglés antiguo en el ejemplo de la obra titulada El descenso a los infiernos del Libro de Exeter, concocido también cono La liberación del Infierno. Palabras clave: Poesía del inglés antiguo, Descent into Hell. All too often we unquestioningly accept the titles of Old English poetry that were given by an early editor, and such a title might well color our interpretation of a poem. This is especially true when dealing with anonymous Old English poetry, in which scholars are left with little or no details about an author and sometimes have the dubious task of naming an untitled medieval text. Scholars have often been left with the complicated and challenging task of trying to interpret anonymous texts, while also providing them with suitable names; however, when an anonymous poem is misinterpreted by an editor and then also named by that editor, the results are often that the editorial name endowed on the poem somehow reflects the gross misinterpretation of the text. Such is the case for the Exeter Book’s The Descent into Hell, which has been given a name that might be unsuitable and might not clearly represent the poem as a whole, since past editors seem to have misread the poem’s central theme. 1 I would like to thank Professor Graham Caie for his comments on this paper, as well as the Lynne Grundy Memorial Trust Fund for their generous support. M. R. Rambaram-Olm, Selim 13 (2005-2006): 69—82 M. R. Rambaran-Olm The poem preserved on folios 119 verso -121 verso of the Exeter Book has been generally known as The Descent into Hell, ever since late commentators made a slight editorial change from the previous title The Harrowing of Hell. Although there was a recognition that the name of the poem was not fitting and an attempt was made to rectify the matter regarding the title, the new suggestion and the generally accepted title today is no more suitable than its predecessor. The issue about the title has not yet been resolved satisfactorily and the existing title of this Exeter Book poem has obviously been unsettling for more recent scholars as well. Nearly forty years ago, Richard Trask recognized that the current title was unsuitable and, suggested the title ‘Christ and John’ to replace the current title.2 While Trask points out that the title hardly does the poem justice, he only alludes to the issue in passing and does not press the matter. In the following paper I hope to outline why the current name of the Exeter Book poem is unsuitable and recommend titles that would be more appropriate for it. According to the Oxford English Dictionary one of the main definitions of the term “title” in reference to literature is: the name of a book, a poem, or other [written] composition describing; an inscription at the beginning of a book, describing or indicating its subject, contents, or nature, and usually also giving the name of the author, compiler, or editor, the name of the publisher, and the place and date of publication.3 While the OED gives us a straightforward definition and outlines the basic function of a title, John Fisher explores the definition and function of a title 2 Trask suggests that “taking the speaker in the latter half of the poem to be John the Baptist, the poem might on a literal level be called simply ‘Christ and John.’” “The Descent into Hell of the Exeter Book.” Neuphilologische Mitteilungen, 72 (1971), p. 425. 3 “title, n.3” The Oxford English Dictionary. 2nd ed. 1989. OED Online. Oxford University Press. 28 Sept. 2006 http://dictionary.oed.com/cgi/entry/50253513. 72 Is the title of OE The Descent of Hell suitable? in greater detail. In Fisher’s appropriately named article called “Entitling” the critic argues: While titles are names, they are a good deal more than just names. They are not necessarily descriptions, although they can contain descriptive elements. They are names for a purpose, not merely for the purpose of identification and designation, in spite of the important practical role which indexical names play in the designative process. The unique purpose of titling is hermeneutical, [as] titles are names which function as guides to interpretation. (J. Fisher 1984: 288) By ‘hermeneutical,’ Fisher elucidated that it “is to allow for interpretive discourse, so if the title does not allow for interpretive discourse, it is nothing more than a label.” (J. Fisher 1984: 288) If he is correct in his assertion that there is a significant and meaningful connection between titles and the literary works they correspond with, and furthermore, titles, themselves, function as guides to interpretation, then the current title The Descent into Hell functions as a guide to misinterpretation. One reason why the poem was given its current title by early editors was because they based their title on a misunderstanding of the poem’s major theme. Certainly the poem does deal with one of the extended accounts of Salvation history found in the Gospel of Nicodemus,4 in which Christ freed the 4 It should be noted that the account of Christ’s descent is not mentioned in the Bible, apart from a number of vague references scattered throughout. See Ps. 68:18; Matt. 12:40, Eph. 4:7-11, Rom. 10:6-7, Phil. 2:9-11, Col. 2:15, I Cor. 15:55, 1 Pet. 3:19. For various allusions to God appearing as conqueror of the lower regions see: Ps. 24, Isa. 42:7, 45:2, 53:8-9 and Hos. 6:2, 13:14. Christ’s descent is generally considered a legend, fully exploited in the apocryphal Evangelium Nicodemi, but the story itself is not an actual component of Salvation history. The concept of redemption history rings more clearly through the echoes of baptism that dominate the poem, something of which I discuss further in this paper. See also Trask’s “The Descent into Hell of the Exeter Book,” and Zbigniew Izydorczyk’s “The Inversion of Paschal Events in the Old English Descent into 73 M. R. Rambaran-Olm Ancient Just from their long captivity in Hell and, further, the poem is inextricably linked to the Easter liturgy. From this, it seems that the editors have assigned the poem the title, The Descent into Hell. Since early commentators had also established that the main source for the poem must have been the Apocryphal text the Gospel of Nicodemus,5 critics attempted to Hell,” Neuphilologische Mitteilungen, 91 (1990), pp. 439-445. See also footnote 6 for a more detailed description of the Gospel of Nicodemus. 5 The Gospel of Nicodemus is comprised of two parts known separately, as the Descensus Christi ad Inferos and Acta Pilati, and together as the Acta or Gesta Pilati or Gospel of Nicodemus. The basic authority of the text rests in the name of Nicodemus, the secret follower of Christ (See: John 3:1-10; 7:50-1; 19:39), who, along with Joseph of Arimathaea, is a leading character in the narrative. As a whole, the text is comprised of sixteen chapters dealing with the trial, death, descent, resurrection and ascension of Christ. The narrative of the Saviour’s descent to Hell, included in chapters 12-15, involves two first-hand accounts of his Harrowing narrated by two men, Karinus and Leucius, who are raised from the dead after witnessing the spectacle themselves. By combining the names of the two eye-witnesses, some scholars have hypothesized that a second century Christian named Lucius Charinus may have written the apocryphal text, although no confirmed author has ever been established with certainty. For further discussion on the theory of authorship in Descensus Christi ad Inferos see W. H. Hulme’s The Middle English Harrowing of Hell and Gospel of Nicodemus. London: Early English Text Society, 1907, p.lxi. Although a primary function of the Gospel of Nicodemus was used to prove to unbelievers that Christ resurrected, the apocryphal text’s earliest audiences, undoubtedly would have included believers from the early Church; and its widespread appeal led to the original Latin text being translated into Greek, Armenian, Coptic, Syriac and Georgian. Although the text was never accepted as canonical, it became one of the most popular of the New Testament apocrypha, gaining widespread appeal by the Middle Ages. Not only do Anglo-Saxon and several Middle English translations exist, but the story of the descent proved to be a popular theme to depict in both art and drama spanning the course of the entire medieval period. Dating of the Acta Pilati has proven to be a difficult task, since the two portions of the text probably originated at different times and in complete independence of each other. Attempts to pin down the text’s composition as a whole vary anywhere from the first to the sixth century AD. Hulme asserts that “the Descensus is the older of two [parts] and probably received its literary form as early as the second or third century” (The Middle English Harrowing of Hell and Gospel of Nicodemus. p.lxi), however this is still uncertain. The Acta Pilati has proven no less troublesome to date, and among the many complications surrounding the dating of the text is Saint Justin Martyr’s 2nd-century allusion to Christ’s trial before Pilate, in the apologist’s Apologia prima, which bears close resemblance to the account recorded in the apocryphal text. Despite the similarity between the two texts no tangible evidence can verify whether the early Christian writer was referring to an actual record or not, and most attempts to establish a date of composition for the Gospel of Nicodemus have been unfruitful. For further discussion on the author, composition, provenance and narrative 74 Is the title of OE The Descent of Hell suitable? draw comparisons between the two works, while not only speculating that the poet’s concern was to tell the story of Christ’s descent, but also concluding that the poem’s title should somehow reflect this connection with its main source. However, in naming the poem first The Harrowing of Hell and then afterwards The Descent into Hell, the only achievement editors made was in indicating the basic setting or backdrop of the poem, while in the process neglecting to point out the main emphasis of the poem.6 As some scholars have noted, the poem can appear inadequate when compared to typical narratives involving the Harrowing of Hell, especially those that closely follow the account described in the Gospel of Nicodemus. M. Bradford Bedingfield (2002: 145) explains that the central elements of the Harrowing in its narrative developments include: the appearance of a light in the darkness of Hell, the complaints/questions of the devils into the abyss, the plaints of the faithful (including the likes of Abraham and David, and often several of the prophets) to be freed, and then of Adam and, especially, Eve, who invokes her daughter Mary. Quite frequently, the Harrowing is followed by an account of the end of the world. of the apocryphal Gospel of Nicodemus, see: G. C. O’ Calleaigh’s “Dating the Commentaries of Nicodemus.” The Harvard Theological Review, Vol. 56. No. 1. (Jan., 1963), pp. 21-58; see also The Gospel of Nicodemus. ed. H. C. Kim. Toronto: The Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 1973; see also Thomas Hall’s ‘The Evangelium Nichodemi and Vindicta Saluatoris in Anglo-Saxon England,’ Two Old English Apocrypha and their Manuscript Sources. ed. J. E. Cross, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996, pp. 36-81. 6 Within the poem, there is very little reference made to the physical description of Hell and only the half line ‘under bealuclommum’ (The Descent into Hell. l. 65b) explicitly describes the grimness of the Underworld. References to John’s anguish and suffering in Hell provide a sense of the psychological effects of suffering in the Underworld (ll. 85-6, 98, 107), however, any sort of detailed description of Hell is absent, apart from typical descriptions of the Underworld as dark place (l. 55a). 75 M. R. Rambaran-Olm Unlike the Apocryphal text of the Gospel of Nicodemus or other prose or poetic works in which the central theme is concerned with Christ’s descent,7 the poem of the Exeter Book gives one brief line to Christ’s actual entrance into Hell. As readers, we are not presented with a grandiose or spectacular image of Christ’s descent, in which the Savior, leading a heavenly host, bravely and mightily breaks through the gates of Hell with divine strength and force in order to free the righteous from Hell. The narrator, not to distract us from the main message, simply, yet eloquently, explains in one brief line “ac þa locu feollan / cluster of þam ceastrum; cyning in oþrad.”8 Not to understate the dramatic events, the poet’s choice to condense the description of Christ’s descent into Hell into one line of poetry functions to move the action along quickly and efficiently without detracting from the main message of the poem that focuses, not simply on Salvation history, but a contemporary and timeless Salvation message for readers. Just as the poem shares little resemblance with other Harrowing accounts in terms of describing Christ’s actual descent, the poem also contains no verbal responses by the devil and his minions, no personification of Hell itself, and no dialogue between Satan and Hell. For those familiar with the Harrowing account presented in the Gospel of Nicodemus, the dramatic episode involving a verbal exchange between Satan and personified Hell is both fascinating and remarkably comedic as the ancient enemies not only anticipate Christ’s grand entrance, but attempt to deflect their failure at not being able to keep Him out, by hurling insults and accusations at one other.9 However, 7 See especially: Christ I & II, Christ & Satan, Guthlac B, Dream of the Rood, etc. 8 The Descent into Hell. ll. 39b-40. All quotes from the poem are taken from: The Exeter Book. Ed. by George Philip Krapp & Elliott Van Kirk Dobbie. New York: Columbia University Press, 1936. 9 Two separate comedic examples within Evangelium Nicodemi include: “Inferus et Mors et impia official eorum cum crudelibus ministries expauerunt in propriis regnis agnitam tanti luminis claritatem dum Christum repente in suis sedibus uiderunt, et exlamauerunt dicentes: “victim sumus a te.”“ (XXII. 1) “Tunc Inferus suscipiens Satan principem cum nimia increpatione dixit ad eum: “O princeps perditionis et dux exterminationis Beelzebub, dirisio angelorum Dei, sputio iustorum, quid hec facere uoluisti? In cuius exicium 76 Is the title of OE The Descent of Hell suitable? in the poem of the Exeter Book the poet makes no mention of Satan’s response and/or reaction to Christ’s appearance, in fact Satan does not speak at all, while Hell, itself, remains a static, but grim location, “shrouded in darkness”, as the narrator states in line 55a. Moving towards the peak or climax of traditional Harrowing narratives, Satan and his minions verbalize their defeat in a huge spectacle, while the righteous, represented by Adam and Eve, articulate gratitude, humility and praise for their Redeemer who has come to free them. Yet, in the Exeter Book poem, Adam and Eve remain silent with the multitude of the righteous and the only hint at Satan’s defeat comes in three lines that summarize the Saviour’s motivation for his journey. The lines read: “Geseah he [Iohannis] helle duru hædre scinan, / þa þe longe ær bilocen wæron, / beþeahte mid þystre.”10 Apart from those aspects which are briefly summed up or altogether missing from the Exeter Book poem, another key component is also omitted that is usually found within works that deal with the Harrowing of Hell. Christ, who is obviously the central figure within the Harrowing narratives, often compellingly expresses His purpose, reprimands Satan, and comfortingly addresses the righteous as well. However, in the Exeter Book poem, the Saviour does not speak and apart from the poem’s narrator, who opens the poem and closes it with a final message of thanksgiving to God, John the Baptist is the sole and central speaker within the text. Here again, the inclusion of John the Baptist as the one who receives Christ in Hell and as the one who speaks on behalf of the saints demonstrates a complete departure from Harrowing narratives both in literature and artistic depictions.11 Throughout the history of Harrowing accounts, Adam is consistently presented as the first to receive Christ and address Him on behalf mortis nobis tanta spolia promisisti? Ignorasti ut insipiens quid egisti...” (XXIII.1). Evangelium Nichodemi. Two Old English Apocrypha and Their Manuscript Source. ed. J. E. Cross. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996, pp 220-224. 10 The Descent into Hell ll. 53-55a. 11 “Fysde hine þa to fore frea moncynnes; / wolde heofona helm helle weallas / forbrecan ond forbygan, þære burge þrym /onginnan reafian, reþust ealra cyninga” (ll. 33-36). 77 M. R. Rambaran-Olm of humanity, while the Exeter Book poem, alone, depicts John the Baptist performing Adam’s usual duties, while Adam himself remains silent amongst the crowd of saints. Finally, there is no mention at the end of the poem of the end of the world or Judgment Day. Rather, in the closing lines of the Exeter Book poem, the narrator graciously thanks Christ for the hope that He gives us through His baptism and through His example, essentially urging us to hasten on our own journey towards Salvation through baptism. With an exhortation of praise, the narrator concludes the poem by declaring: “Oferwurpe þu mid þy wætre, bliþe mode swylce git Iohannis mid þy fullwihte ealne þisne middangeard. (ll. 133-137). weoruda dryhten, ealle burgwaran, in Iordane fægre onbryrdon Sie þæs symle meotude þonc!” So what, in the end, would be the point of leaving out seemingly climactic, exciting, and traditional details of the Harrowing account? Basically, I believe that the departure from the Apocryphal text is deliberate on the part of the poet who uses the scenario of Christ’s descent as a backdrop in order to present a message focused on the journey towards Salvation. This, of course, does not mean that the Harrowing account is not significant within the poem’s structure, but certainly it is not the principal theme of the text. In actuality, the direction that the poet takes readers on is a different journey, if I may say so. Mimicking the two Marys at the beginning of the poem, who journey to Christ’s tomb early in the morning, likewise following Christ’s crossing into Hell, and understanding John’s connection with baptism while being reminded not only through his words, but through his role in Christian history and furthermore, by grasping the narrator’s closing utterance of thanksgiving which inspires readers on a journey towards Salvation through their own baptism, readers are reminded of the Christian message of Salvation, while also being prompted to serve and praise God through prayer and deeds like John the Baptist. So, ultimately, although the seed of the poem comes 78 Is the title of OE The Descent of Hell suitable? from the Apocryphal text, the poem flourishes into a Christian message of hope drawing on an allusion of the soul’s journey, the path to Salvation through baptism and the associations to the resurrection and rebirth that every Christian receives through baptism. Since the main focus of the poem has to do more with John’s prayer of praise and thanksgiving and less to do with Christ’s actual descent, the title The Descent into Hell does nothing but impoverish readings of the poem since readers’ immediate expectation is to read a poem which deals significantly with this episode. In the same vain, if the title does not impoverish a reading and one is able to recognize the poem’s central theme, then, at the very least, the title can mislead readers into judging the poet’s ability to convey the story of Christ’s descent effectively and accurately while also concluding that the poet’s fresh approach to the Harrowing account is both “confusing and perhaps a clumsy”, as T. A. Shippey suggests.12 However, the poem is not confusing in the least if it is read as somewhat of a lyrical rhapsody with a brief introductory setting that is appropriate to the actual theme and central message. Essentially, because the narrative is concerned more about Christ’s reception in Hell and the text is almost exclusively a “hymn of thanks, praise and exhortation spoken [or sung] by John the Baptist,” (Trask 1971: 425); it should be viewed on its own merits as an innovative approach in dealing with the Salvation message, and should simply not be viewed as a failed attempt to describe Christ’s descent into Hell. There is an obvious means to an end, and although the poet’s use of language and structure is subtle rather than blatantly obvious from the onset, the outcome for readers could and should be rewarding in terms of discovering the theme and message within the poem for themselves. 12 Shippey asserts that “when allowance has been made for the modes of ‘typological understanding’, The Descent into Hell remains a confusing and perhaps a clumsy poem (though the opposite view is stoutly maintained by both Thomas Hill and Richard Trask...).” Shippey (1976: 42) further exclaims that the poem’s “originality, is not denied, nor (if this is compatible with clumsiness) its self-assurance.” 79 M. R. Rambaran-Olm A change in the title might not have been enough to convince some critics of the poem’s merits, such as William Mackie, who in his edition of the Exeter Book suggests that the poet was amateurish, that “the poem is nothing more than incoherent babbling” and further argues that the poem must have been a fragment.13 However, E. V. K. Dobbie asserts that “there is nothing in the text as it stands in the manuscript which would warrant our considering it anything but a complete poem.” (Krapp & Dobbie 1936: lxi) As readers, we do not have to look too hard to discover that the poet has a different agenda other than to relay the Harrowing of Hell account to readers. If we return to John Fisher’s definition, that titles share a close relationship with texts and provide a means to interpretation, and also by looking at the Exeter Book poem on its own merits without comparing it to texts that are mainly concerned with the Apocryphal account of Christ’s descent, titles that are more fitting for the Exeter Book poem and meet the criteria previously mentioned are: “John the Baptist’s Prayer”, or perhaps “John’s Prayer of Praise and Thanksgiving” or simply “John’s Prayer”. While Christ’s descent is integral to the poet’s message because it provides the setting for the narrative, the only speaker in the poem is John the Baptist whose obvious connection with baptism and message of hope and gratitude outweighs the brief reference to Christ’s Harrowing, so it is really John’s message that is at the core of the text. Another possibility would be to emphasize the lyrical elements that clearly ring throughout the poem with a fitting title like “John’s Song.” Prayer, liturgy and lyrical worship are driving forces within the poem, so indicating at least one of those themes more overtly in the title would signify, more precisely, what the poem is about and help facilitate readings and interpretations of the poem. The emphasis on prayer and liturgy calls out in 13 Mackie exclaims that “The Harrowing of Hell, give[s] the most trouble to a translator, since it is difficult to give a sensible rendering of lines or passages that can never have been anything but incoherent babbling.” The Exeter Book. Part II: Poems IX-XXXII. London: Oxford University Press, 1934, p. vii. 80 Is the title of OE The Descent of Hell suitable? blatantly obvious ways, not only via the text itself, but also by means of where the poem is located within the Exeter Book. It is no coincidence that the text is nestled in between two other poems that deal with prayer and Salvation, being preceded first by the poem Resignation which deals with prayer for patience and humility along a journey corrupted by trials and Satan’s temptations, and then followed by Alms-giving, a short poem concerned with personal Salvation. Although scholars have established that a single scribe recorded the works within the Exeter Book manuscript, it is unclear and may remain so whether the scribe was also the anthologist who compiled the individual works within the manuscript. Still, Roy Liuzza argues that the scribe or the anthologist ordered the poems as they are in the manuscript, because they fit together sensibly and the thematic links are too strong to be accidental.14 Since the manuscript is arguably laid out in sections dealing with different themes, the anthologist obviously had something else in mind that critics of the poem as we know as The Descent into Hell have overlooked. Overall, a new and more appropriate title like any of the ones I have suggested, would function then as part of the text itself in a way, essentially, to indicate what exactly is at the core of the poem, while welcoming readers to begin their journeys through the text, as opposed to distracting them from discovery and meaning. Although I am by no means suggesting that the Exeter Book poem is the greatest of Old English poems, comparable to the likes of The Dream of the 14 Liuzza explains: “The poems… of the Exeter Book represent a manuscript sequence, poems perhaps by different authors but deliberately set and probably altered to be read as a series. Manuscript divisions and stylistic differences are less important than the thematic concatenations that bind the poems together… the model of textual unity suggests that an additional interpretative richness may be achieved by reading Old English poetry as the medieval reader would have read it, in series in its manuscript context; ‘monkish interpolation’, as it cannot be avoided, should be recognized, understood, and embraced. The textual unity [of the Exeter Book] extending from Christ I to Juliana and perhaps beyond share a certain thematic, and to an extent stylistic, harmony that can only be called codicological or scribal unity.” (1990: 10-11). 81 M. R. Rambaran-Olm Rood, the poem in question is indeed more than just “babbling”15 and a more suitable title, like any of my proposed titles, would indicate that the poet’s message is not lost and that the poem, although a relatively short, modest piece, is strikingly attractive and has value within the corpus of Old English poetry. What I have attempted to highlight is that the poem is valuable, not just because of its age, but because of its content, theme, message and the glimpse, readers catch, into the mind of one innovative, creative and perhaps peculiar Anglo-Saxon poet. Perhaps, my objective is not to give the poem a title per se, but more fittingly to illustrate that the poem is entitled to a name that it has been long due. To furnish the poem with a name that is more fitting would be to warrant it value on its own merits without having to compare it to supposed sources, while also acknowledging that its main theme is not so unclear and confusing. M. R. Rambaran-Olm University of Glasgow REFERENCES Adams, Hazard 1987: Titles, Titling, and Entitlement To. The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 46.1: 7-21. Bedingfield, M. Bradford 2002: The Dramatic Liturgy of Anglo-Saxon England. Woodbridge: The Boydell Press. Cross, J. E. ed. 1996: Evangelium Nichodemi. Two Old English Apocrypha and Their Manuscript Source. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 220-224. Fisher, John 1984: Entitling. Critical Inquiry 11.2: 286-298. 15 As Mackie suggests. See footnote 13. 82 Is the title of OE The Descent of Hell suitable? Hall, Thomas 1996: The Evangelium Nichodemi and Vindicta Saluatoris in Anglo-Saxon England. Two Old English Apocrypha and their Manuscript Sources. J. E. Cross ed. 1996: 36-81. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hill, Thomas D. 1972: Cosmic Stasis and the Birth of Christ: The Old English Descent into Hell, Lines 99-106. Journal of English and Germanic Philology 72: 383-9. The Holy Bible. A Translation From the Latin Vulgate in Light of the Hebrew and Greek Originals. Authorized by the Hierarchy of England and Wales 1959. London: Burns and Oates. Hulme, W. H. 1907: The Middle English Harrowing of Hell and the Gospel of Nicodemus. London: Early English Text Society. Izydorcyzk, Zbigniew 1990: The Inversion of Paschal Events in the Old English Descent into Hell. Neuphilologische Mitteilungen 91: 439-447. Saint Justin, Martyr. Apologia prima. The First Apology of Justin Martyr, Addressed to the Emperor Antoninus Pius. Prefaced by Some Account of the Writings and Opinions of Justin Martyr. John Kaye ed. 1981. London: Griffith, Farran, Brown. Kim, H. C. ed. 1973: The Gospel of Nicodemus. Gesta Salvatoris. Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies. Krapp, George Philip & Elliott Van Kirk Dobbie eds. 1936: The Descent into Hell. The Exeter Book. New York: Columbia University Press. Liuzza, Roy M. 1990: The Old English Christ and Guthlac Texts, Manuscripts, and Critics. RES 41.161: 1-11. Mackie, William ed. 1934: The Exeter Book. Part II: Poems IX-XXXII. London: Oxford University Press. O’Calleaigh, G. C. 1963: Dating the Commentaries of Nicodemus. The Harvard Theological Review 56.1: 21-58. 83 M. R. Rambaran-Olm The Oxford English Dictionary. 2nd ed. 1989. OED Online. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 28 Sept. 2006. <http://dictionary.oed.com/cgi/entry/50253513>. Shippey, T. A. 1976: Poems of Wisdom and Learning in Old English. Cambridge: D. S. Brewer. Trask, Richard 1971: The Descent into Hell of the Exeter Book. Neuphilologische Mitteilungen 72: 419-435. *†* 84 CYNEWULF AND CYNEHEARD: A DIFFERENT STYLE FOR A DIFFERENT STORY Abstract One of the most important sources for the study of the Old English period is the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. Within that chronicle information is structured in entries: one for each of the years about which information is given. One of the entries which has attracted more attention is the one for the year 755. There we find the story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard. This story is written in a way that makes it different from the rest of early annals in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle: it is longer than any of them and has a very spontaneous syntax many times throughout the text. One of the reasons for this syntactic spontaneity could be the fact that this annal was made up using material from a story which, in turn, was part of an oral tradition. The knowledge about a Germanic oral literature tradition like that of the later Icelandic sagas has led scholars to the hypothesis that the AngloSaxon Chronicle entry for the year 755 could be the product of a similar Germanic oral literature tradition which may have also existed in Anglo-Saxon England. Keywords: English, Old English, Literature, Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, entry for 755. Resumen Una de las fuentes más importantes para el estudio del período del inglés antiguo es la Crónica anglosajona. Dentro de esa crónica la información está estructurada en entradas: una para cada uno de los años sobre los que se da información. Una de las entradas que ha suscitado más interés es la del año 755. En ella encontramos la historia de Cynewulf y Cyneheard. Esta historia está escrita de una forma que la hace ser diferente al resto del primer grupo de anales de la Crónica anglosajona: es un anal más largo que cualquier otro de ese primer grupo y presenta una sintaxis muy espontánea en muchas ocasiones a lo largo del texto. Una de las razones de esta espontaneidad sintáctica podría ser el hecho de que este anal hubiera sido escrito utilizando material procedente de una historia que, a su vez, fuera parte de una tradición oral. El conocimiento sobre la tradición literaria oral de las posteriores sagas islandesas, también dentro del marco de la cultura germánica, ha llevado a los investigadores a la hipótesis de que la entrada de la Crónica anglosajona para el año 755 podría enmarcarse dentro de una tradición literaria oral, igualmente de tipo germánico, que también podría haber existido en Inglaterra en el período del inglés antiguo. Palabras clave: Inglés, inglés antiguo, literatura, Crónica anglosajona, entrada para el año 755. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle entry for the year 755 is probably the one to which scholars have paid more attention. This entry is one of the multiple annals of the aforementioned Chronicle, a year-by-year record of events which extends from 60 BC to the 12th century, dating the beginning of its compilation from the days of King Alfred’s reign (9th century). Ignacio Murillo, Selim 13 (2005-2006): 83—94 Ignacio Murillo López According to Towers, “The story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard, the AngloSaxon Chronicle entry for 755, is unique among the pre-Alfredian entries both for its artfulness and for its complexity”1 (1963: 310); and, as White has remarked, “In an unusually lengthy entry for the year 757, the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle recounts a complex and well-crafted story, which the chronicler and his contemporaries presumably found interesting, dramatic, and perhaps even instructive and which modern scholars have never tired of retelling”2 (1989: 1). These are two of the ways in which the entry for the year 755 has been described. This particular entry, with its account of the story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard, has been the object of long discussions among scholars, mainly because of the nature of its style within the context of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. After saying this, and in order to better understand the way in which this entry was written, we should analyse the whole literary context to which it belongs. First of all, we would have to say that not all the entries in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle follow the same stylistic and syntactic patterns. There are differences among them. According to Cecily Clark we could divide the Chronicle before the Conquest, into five main groups of annals, namely: “The Initial Alfredian Compilation”, “The Later Alfredian Annals”, “The Annals for the Reign of Æthelred II”, “The Annals for the Confessor’s Reign”, and “The Conquest” (1971: 215-235). As we can see, annals were written in different styles, and the style of an annal and its date of compilation seem to be related. About this Cecily Clark comments the following: “Shifts of style in the Chronicle must be related to stages in its compilation, some of which are 1 By pre-Alfredian entries it is meant those annals giving information of the events which took place before the time of King Alfred. Nevertheless, all of them were written during the reign of this king. That is why other scholars like Cecily Clark include them under the category Initial Alfredian Compilation. 2 According to some scholars, what is told under the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle entry for 755 actually took place in 757. That is why here White talks about the entry for the year 757. However, he means the same story referred to by others as that of the entry for 755, that is to say, the story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard. 86 Cynewulf and Cyneheard: a different style for a different story revealed by changes of hand and ink in surviving copies” (1971: 215). Having said that, we should consider the different styles in which the annals were written. First of all, the early annals, those under the umbrella term Initial Alfredian Compilation in Cecily Clark’s article (1971), were written in a very plain style. They are normally very brief and their syntax is quite simple, relying mainly on parataxis. “Adjectives are sparse, and adverbs rare or … absent, nor is there any complexity of syntax, just a chain of simple sentences rendering a series of simple propositions. Furthermore, with the events noted all falling within a narrow range, vocabulary and phrasing are correspondingly restricted, annal after annal using the same semi-formulaic language” (Clark 1971: 216). As examples of this group of annals, we can point out the entries for the years 1, 47, 83, 485, and 682 (Plumer & Earle 1892, 1: 4-38). However, within this group we find the entry for the year 755, which is the one we are dealing with here. This annal is also known as the story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard. 755. Her Cynewulf benam Sigebryht his rices ⁊ West Seaxna wiotan for unryhtum dædum, buton Ham tún scire; ⁊ he hæfde þa oþ he ofslog þone aldor mon þe him lengest wunode. Se Offa wæs Þincg ferþing, Þinc ferþ Ean wulfing, Eanwulf Osmoding, Osmod Eawing, Eawa Pybing, Pybba Creoding, Creoda Cynewalding, Cynewald Cnebing, Cnebba Iceling, Icel Eomæring, Eomær ngelþowing, ngel þeow Offing, Offa Wærmunding, Wærmund Wyhtlæging, Wihtlæg Wodening (Plummer & Earle 1892, 1: 46-50; Parker MS. CCCC 173 ().) After these entries syntax and style gradually gets more and more complicated. In this new group of annals we find the ones dealing with the Danish invasion and the wars against the Danes. An example is the entry for the year 871 (in Plummer and Earle 1892, 1: 70). 87 Ignacio Murillo López Finally, some other annals, especially those about the Conquest and the 12th century, are also quite complex in their syntax. An example is the entry for the year 1066, about the Conquest itself (Thorpe 1861, 1: 336). With regards to the layout of the entries of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, one of the very few exceptions is the anal for the year 937 (Plummer & Earle 1892, 1: 106-108), which is written in verse instead of in prose. Entries like this one are the exception rather than the rule. After having classified the different entries of the Chronicle, we can say that one of the greatest exceptions to this stylistic classification is the annal for the year 755, where we find the story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard. This story has attracted scholars’ attention both from the historical and literary points of view, but it is the question of its distinctive style and of its uniqueness within the context of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, which has led scholars to pay special attention to this particular entry. At this point some questions arise: what is the style of this entry like? And why was this entry recorded that way? The answer to these questions has been a very recurrent object of study. Several reasons have been pointed out in an attempt to explain the striking difference between this and other annals. Bruce Mitchell and Fred C. Robinson say: “The narration is so swift and breathless, the selection of detail so deft, that some scholars have felt that the chronicler was recording a saga refined by many retellings in oral tradition” (1992: 208), and they also say: “Supporting this view (and complicating the modern reader’s task in following the narrative) is the tale’s spontaneous syntax and free word-order, which require close attention to grammatical endings if the sentences are to be constructed accurately” (Mitchell and Robinson 1992: 208). Some other comments on this entry are those by Stephen D. White and those by Francis P. Magoun. Stephen D. White says: “Although it is unclear why such a long, elaborate story appears in a chronicle whose other entries for this century never exceed a couple of lines, the interest of modern scholars in the story is easily explained. Students of early English literature have studied it closely, 88 Cynewulf and Cyneheard: a different style for a different story partly because it resembles passages from Icelandic sagas and partly because it retreats, in a rhetorically effective way, a major theme in early medieval literature –the loyalty of warriors to their leaders” (1989: 4). On the same entry Francis P. Magoun comments the following: “The passage in question has long been famous and greatly admired by many critics of Old English literature as a purple passage in the usually matter of fact annals. It may indeed be regarded as one of the few passages where OE prose suggests the art of the Icelandic historical and family sagas” (1933: 361). These scholars suggest that this passage resembles the art and style of the sagas, and particularly, and as commented by two of them, of the Icelandic sagas. This suggestion has been one of the most recurrent answers to the question of the unique nature of this text. Saga is defined by The Oxford English Reference Dictionary as “a long story of heroic achievement, esp. a medieval Icelandic or Norwegian prose narrative” (1996: 1271). It is also defined as “a series of connected books giving the history of a family etc.’ (1996: 1271), and finally as “a long involved story” (1996: 1271). Resemble is defined by the same dictionary as “be like; have a similarity to, or features in common with, or the same appearance as” (1996: 1225). The Icelandic sagas are a literary genre based on story-telling and an instance of Germanic oral literature tradition. Sometimes the stories told by these sagas have a historical background, but this historical background was normally lost before the story was written down, due to its nature as oral literature. Now we could argue, what the point is for the comparison of an Anglo-Saxon text –the story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard– to an Icelandic tradition like the sagas. Normally the explanation given for this comparison has been the fact that, because of its similarities in style with the Icelandic sagas, the nature of this entry is due to its result as an instance of another Germanic oral literature tradition similar to that under the term Icelandic sagas. This would explain the striking differences between the story of 89 Ignacio Murillo López Cynewulf and Cyneheard and the rest of the early entries of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. The reference to the Icelandic sagas is used as a comparison, which has allowed critics to draw a possible hypothesis to sort out the problem of the origin of the nature of this text within the context of an oral literature tradition in Anglo-Saxon England, which could have been similar to the one which developed later in medieval Iceland. Having this in mind, the possibility of the existence of a saga tradition in Anglo-Saxon literature, has been discussed by some scholars like Cyril Ernest Wright, who says: “in only one instance has an Anglo-Saxon saga been handed down to us in the original vernacular, namely, the story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle” (1939: 70). Also, Plummer & Earle, have said: “The annal which most recalls the Sagas is the slaying of Cynewulf and Cyneheard under 755; and that too may have been developed orally before it was written down” (1899, 2: xx). So, the fact that the story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard developed orally before it was written down, could be a possible answer to the question of why this story broke with the annal format of the Pre-Alfredian entries, which were shorter and not as developed as the one for the year 755. This is also quite important, because if we are dealing with the nature of the annal for 755, as opposed to that of the rest of the early entries, we should also analyse the style of those entries in order to find the reason why those early annals were written in that particular way. As it was pointed out above, the style of those early entries is quite plain, normally relying on parataxis, and following the same structure patterns all the time. About the origins of the early annals, Cecily Clark has pointed out: “Annals evolved from notes in the margins of Easter tables. Necessarily brief, such notes, being adjuncts to the calendar rather than contributions to literature, 90 Cynewulf and Cyneheard: a different style for a different story were also factual and objective” (1971: 218). As an example of these notes in the margins of Easter tables we find the following: “1087 Obiit Willelmus rex. 1089 Obiit Landfrancus archiepiscopus. 1096 Iter incepit ierosolimitanum” (in Clark 1971: 218). These examples, even though they are not taken from the early entries, illustrate the kind of texts from which the early annals are supposed to have developed. Cecily Clark also says: “At all events, many of the seventh- and eighth-century annals consisting of only one line ... could have been derived from Easter table notes” (1971: 219). This evidence is quite plausible, but not only that, some critics have also suggested that the story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard and their feud at Merton, which could have derived from a possible oral saga tradition, was added to a previously existing entry. Janet Bately comments on this possibility like this: “the annal incorporating the story of the heroic confrontation between … Cynewulf and Cyneheard … contains features that demonstrate clearly that it was added as an afterthought or additional comment to an existing entry, and so need not be the work of the author of that entry” (1978: 106). According to this the first part of the 755-entry would be something similar to the rest of the early entries and it is only the account of the story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard which would have an oral origin. Jane Bately also suggests that the last paragraph of this particular entry –the one which begins with “⁊ þy ilcan geare mon ofslog Æþelbald Miercna cyning on Seccan dune” (Plummer & Earle 1892, 1: 48)– “resumes as though the digression had never been made” (1978: 106). This fact provides us with evidence to see the story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard as an addition in the middle of what was the original entry. Thus, the structure of the annal for the year 755 would be the following: 755. Her Cynewulf benam Sigebryht his rices… ⁊ se Cynewulf oft miclum gefeohtum feaht uuiþ Bretwalum ⁊ ymb ·xxxi· wiñt þæs þe he rice hæfde… ⁊ hiera ryht fæder cyn gæþ to Cerdice 91 Ignacio Murillo López ⁊ þy ilcan geare mon ofslog Æþelbald Miercna cyning on Seccan dune… Wihtlæg Wodening (Plummer and Earle 1892, 1: 46-50; Parker MS. CCCC 173 ())3 Taking this analysis into account, at this point one question arises. If the annal for the year 755 was written before –following the style of the rest of the early entries– and if the story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard –whose style is different– was added later, then, why was it added? The answer to this question may not be easy, but it is probably in the context of kinship and family ties where the reason for this lies. The compilation of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle seems to have started during the period ruled by King Alfred the Great. As Bruce Mitchell and Fred C. Robinson say, “Around AD 890, during the reign of King Alfred the Great, Anglo-Saxon scholars compiled a year-by-year record of important events from antiquity to their own day” (1992: 212). King Alfred the Great was a member of the House of Wessex, and ruled over the kingdom of the same name from 871 to 899. Tracing back the genealogy of that dynasty (Plummer & Earle 1892, 1: 2-4) we would find the sort of table I have included in my appendix. King Alfred the Great belonged to the same family to which Cynewulf, Cyneheard, and Sigebriht also belonged: the House of Wessex. They were all the descendants of Cerdic, who, according to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, conquered Wessex from the Britons, and was, therefore, the first king of the West Saxons. This fact can be seen as the source for a hypothesis which may explain the inclusion of the story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard in the AngloSaxon Chronicle. What is being suggested here is that the fact that the compilation of the Chronicle began during the reign of King Alfred the Great, together with the fact that both Cynewulf and Cyneheard were relatives of 3 Normal type: original entry. Bold type: addition to the original entry. 92 Cynewulf and Cyneheard: a different style for a different story King Alfred’s, probably led to the inclusion of this story under the entry for the year 755 –which had been previously written in an early-entry style. Therefore, this passage could have been included because of the family ties existing between Alfred the Great, Cynewulf, and Cyneheard. Finally, and as a conclusion, we would have to say, that the story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard, the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle entry for the year 755, is probably the one which has attracted more attention from scholars, due to the fact that it breaks with the annal style followed by all the early entries in the Chronicle. This has led scholars to look for a reason for this breaking with the general style of early annals, thus proposing the possibility of the origin and nature of this entry within the context of an Anglo-Saxon oral literature tradition, similar to that of the later Icelandic sagas, which, according to scholars, this story seems to recall. Ignacio Murillo López Universidad de Salamanca REFERENCES Bately, Janet 1978: The Compilation of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 60 B.C. to AD 890: Vocabulary as Evidence. Proceedings of the British Academy 64: 93-129. Clark, Cecily 1971: The Narrative Mode of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle before the Conquest. England before the Conquest: Studies in Primary Sources Presented to Dorothy Whitelock. Eds. Peter Clemoes & Kathleen Hughes. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. 215-235. 93 Ignacio Murillo López Douglas, David C. & George W. Greenaway 1953: 1042-1189. Vol. 2 of English Historical Documents. Ed. David C. Douglas. 10 vols. Eyre & Spottiswoode, London. Magoun, Francis Peabody 1933: Cynewulf, Cyneheard, and Osric. Anglia 57: 361-376. Mitchell, Bruce & Fred C. Robinson 1992[1964]: A Guide to Old English. 5th ed. Blackwell, Oxford & Malden, Massachusetts. Pearsall, Judy & Bill Trumble, eds. 1996[1995]: The Oxford English Reference Dictionary. 2nd ed. Oxford University Press, Oxford & New York. Plummer, Charles & John Earle 1892-1899[1865]: Two of the Saxon Chronicles Parallel. 2 vols. 2nd ed. Clarendon Press, Oxford. Thorpe, Benjamin 1861: The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, According to the Several Original Authorities. 2 vols. Longman, Green, Longman, and Roberts, London. Towers, Tom H. 1963: Thematic Unity in the Story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard. Journal of English and Germanic Philology 62: 310-316. White, Stephen D. 1989: Kinship and Lordship in Early Medieval England: The Story of Sigeberht, Cynewulf, and Cyneheard. Viator 20: 1-18. Whitelock, Dorothy 1955: c. 500-1042. Vol. 1 of English Historical Documents. Ed. David C. Douglas. 10 vols. Eyre & Spottiswoode, London. Wright, Cyril Ernest 1939: The Cultivation of Saga in Anglo-Saxon England. Oliver & Boyd, Edinburgh & London. 94 Cynewulf and Cyneheard: a different style for a different story Appendix: The genealogical information about the House of Wessex given in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (Plummer and Earle 1892, 1: 2-4) can be arranged like this: The House of Wessex Ingild Woden | Bældæg | Brond | Frithugar | Freawine | Wig | Gewis | Esla | Elesa | st Cerdic* 1 | nd Cynric 2 | rd Ceawlin 3 | Cuthwine | Cuthwulf | Ceolwold | Cenred | th Cuthburh Ine 12 | Eoppa | Eafa 95 Cwenburh Ignacio Murillo López th Æthelbald 20 | Ealhmund | th Egbert 18 | th Æthelwulf 19 | st nd Ethelbert 21 Ethelred 22 rd Alfred 23 * Cerdic ----------th Ceolwulf 5 | th Cynegils 6 | th Cenwealh 7th Centwine 10 | th Æ married to Seaxburh 8 th --------------------- Æscwine 9 th --------------------- Ceadwalla 11 th -------------------- Æthelheard 13 th -------------------- Cuthred 14 th -------------------- Sigebriht 15 [Cyneheard’s brother] th -------------------- Cynewulf 16 th -------------------- Brihtric 17 th Ceol 4 Key to the genealogical tree: A discontinuous line indicates non-specified family ties, even though, and, according to the text, they all go back to Cerdic. Vertical bars indicate a father-son or father-daughter family tie. Boxes indicate a brother or sister family tie. The only daughters and sisters in this genealogical tree are Cuthburh and Cwenburh. The arrow indicates a husband-and-wife relationship. Italics indicate those who were kings or queens of Wessex. Numbers indicate the order in which they succeeded to the kingdom of Wessex. The only queen in this genealogical tree is Seaxburh. The information in square brackets is not in the text from which this genealogical tree has been compiled. Yet that information is found in the entry for the year 755. The compilation of the information about the House of Wessex into the genealogical tree presented here is my own. *†* 96 THE ANGLO-SAXON CHRONICLE, 755: AN ANNOTATED BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE CYNEWULF AND CYNEHEARD EPISODE FROM PLUMMER TO BREMMER1 Abstract For more than a century, Anglo-Saxonists of all generations have shown their concern with the so-called ‘Story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard’ writing numerous articles and editing now and again the entry for 755 in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. The interests shown range from merely historical studies of this and other sources to prove (or distprove) its historical accuracy to literary studies of the annal’s style and its similitude to other contemporary Scandinavian accounts. The aim of this annotated bibliography is to offer, in chronological order of publicaction, a comprehensive analysis of the several studies and editions publiched from the nineteenth century (Plummer 1892-99) to the very first years of the twenty-fist century (2005). Keywords: Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, bibliography, Cynewulf, Cyneheard. Resumen Durante más de un siglo, anglosajonistas de todas las generaciones han mostrado su interés en la llamada ‘historia de Cynewulf y Cyneheard’ produciendo numerosos artículos y editando una y otra vez la entrada para el año 755 de la Crónica Anglosajona. Los intereses mostrados abarcan desde estudios meramente históricos de ésta y otras fuentes documentales para probar (o rebatir) su veracidad histórica, hasta enfoques más literarios acerca del estilo del anal y su similitud con otros relatos escandinavos contemporáneos. La finalidad de esta bibliografía comentada es ofrecer, en orden cronológico de publicación, un análisis general de estos estudios y ediciones publicados desde el siglo diecinueve (Plummer 1893-99) hasta los primeros años del siglo veintiuno (2005). Palabras clave: Crónica Anglosajona, bibliografía, Cynewulf, Cyneheard. 1.1.- INTRODUCTION The main topic of this annotated bibliography concerns the so-called ‘Story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard.’ My aim is to offer, in a chronological order of publication, a broad view of the different opinions established by generations 1 I would like to thank Dr Alex R. Rumble for his helpful comments and Dr Jorge L. Bueno Alonso who encouraged me greatly in the process of revision of this bibliography. F. J. Álvarez López, Selim 13 (2005-2006): 95—113 F. J. Álvarez López of Anglo-Saxonists around this particular annal which, although it deals with facts that took place between the years 755 and 784 (757 and 786, to be exact),2 was undoubtedly written down at the end of the ninth century (or beginning of the tenth) in the form we have today (see J. Bately 1991: xxii). The scope of this analysis ranges from Plummer’s influential edition of Two of the Saxon Chronicles Parallel (1892-9) up to the latest editions and articles in 2005. For the sake of practicality, I have decided to divide all the references into three clearly defined sections. The first offers most editions (that I am aware of) of the annal in its original language or translated into Present-Day English.3 The second section presents the bulk of the commentary dealing with the annal and its different critical trends (kinship vs. comitatus, oral tradition, saga connections, etc.). Finally, a considerably shorter section closes this bibliography in which I offer a number of references which, not being essential for the study of the entry, do treat it in some way relevant to its understanding. Thus, they range from editions of other medieval texts (such as the chronicles of Æthelweard and Gaimar) to more general studies on the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle which briefly refer to this story.4 2 Check Ch. Plummer, ed. 1952: 44, 56. It is more widely discussed by J. Bately 1991: 32-5. 3 I have excluded here translations into other languages although I might hereby refer to the only version that I know of in one of my mother tongues: Jorge L. Bueno Alonso (forthcoming): La épica de la Inglaterra anglosajona: Historia y textos del auge de Mercia al declive de la monarquía, 750-1016 (Vigo: University of Vigo Press). 4 I have also refrained from including in the main body of the bibliography the numerous works of mainly historical nature which cite the annal for 755 or at best retell its plot. Among those we might find H. M. Chadwick 1905: Studies on Anglo-Saxon Institutions. (Cambridge: CUP), p. 363; W. Hunt 1908: Cynewulf. In L. Stephen & S. Lee, Dictionary of National Biography (London: Smith Elder & Co.), vol. 5, p. 372; Ch. Oman 1910: A History of England. Vol. I. England Before the Norman Conquest. (London: Methuen), pp. 3356 and 338-9; R. H. Hodgkin 1939: A History of the Anglo-Saxons. Second edition (London: OUP), vol. II, pp. 393-5; P. Hunter-Blair 1963: Roman Britain and Early England (Edinburgh: Nelson), pp. 251-2; F. Stenton 1971: Anglo-Saxon England. Third edition (Oxford: OUP), p. 208; D. Whitelock 1991: The Beginnings of English Society. Revised edition (London: Penguin), pp. 32 and 37-8; H. R Loyn 1991: Anglo-Saxon England and the Norman Conquest. Second edition (Harlow: Longman), pp. 308-9; Heather Edwards 2004: Cynewulf 98 The ASC 755: an annotated bibliography The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle has survived in seven manuscripts, each of them identified by Plummer with a letter from A to G. A is considered to be the most important5 and the oldest, its earliest hand dating from the late ninth century or ‘very early tenth.’6 For more than a hundred years, scholars have discussed the possible relationships between all the extant copies in an attempt to define their origins.7 It has always been accepted that it was during the last part of the ninth century, ‘in the reign of King Alfred, when the Chronicle assumed its present form.’8 Dorothy Whitelock lists a group of possible sources which the first compiler might have ‘had at his disposal’. Among them, she mentions ‘some epitome of universal history which has not been identified,’ Bede’s Historia Ecclesiastica, some ‘northern annals,’ genealogies and ‘some sets of earlier West Saxon annals.’ (Whitelock 1955: 115) However, when she comes to discuss in more detail the annal for AD 755, she refers to: another type of source […] in which the circumstantial account of the feud between Cynewulf and Cyneheard has plainly been added to an earlier written source, though the incident may have been handed down by oral narrative for some time before it was put in writing. (Whitelock 1955: 115). (d. 786). Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, (Oxford: OUP) at [http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/6990]. 5 R. Fowler 1966: 3. (Old English Prose and Verse. London: Routledge). 6 D. Whitelock 1979: 109. (English Historical Documents, c. 500-1042. London: Eyre & Spottiswoode). Also N.R. Ker 1957: 57-58, (Catalogue of Manuscripts Containing Anglo-Saxon (Oxford: Clarendon Press); where he describes it as an ‘upright hand s. ix-x.’ Also Bately (1991: 2); C. E. Wright 1939: 26. (The Cultivation of Saga in Anglo-Saxon England. Edinburgh: Oliver & Boyd); E. Treharne 2004: 20. (Old and Middle English: An Anthology. Oxford: Blackwell). 7 See Bately (1991: 2); and Plummer (1892-9: xxxvii-cii). 8 Stenton (1971: 19). Also in Whitelock (1955: 114-115). 99 F. J. Álvarez López Certainly, many commentators have dealt with the possible sources of this ‘precious bit of Old English prose narrative.’9 One of the main trends here seems to have been the association of this passage with the genre of the Old Norse sagas, especially after C. L. Wrenn’s article ‘A Saga of the AngloSaxons.’10 Nevertheless, in recent years, we find examples of voices which have successfully established a clear separation from that ‘Scandinavian connection’ and demonstrated that despite some structural similarities (paratactic constructions, sudden change into direct speech) there is not enough textual evidence to sustain a comprehensible bond.11 Another theme often related to this entry is that regarding the dichotomy of kinship and comitatus. With a few exceptions,12 scholars have commonly found this story as one of the best illustrations of the early Germanic heroic tradition in Anglo-Saxon literature. The determination to fight for one’s lord (even when he is dead) against members of the same kin if necessary, is shown by most actors in this story and has placed this ‘most familiar of all Old English heroic tales’ (Shippey 1985: 221) at the same level of significance as the more celebrated epic poems, namely, The Battle of Maldon and Beowulf. Finally, more contemporary lines of thought seem to have also found its way through the scholarship devoted to the Merantune episode. Such is the case of the feminist reading offered by Nina Rulon-Miller (1997: 113-32), with particular attention to the female character whom Cynewulf decided to visit on that deadly night. 9 F. P. Magoun (1933: 374); also C. L. Wrenn (1940-1: 243). 10 Wrenn (1940); Fowler (1966: 4); Wright (1939). 11 The main example of this ‘disagreement’ is represented by F. Heinemann, (1993: 57-89). Regarding the lack of evidence for the ‘saga connection’ see R. W. McTurk (1981: 81-127) who, despite an impressive effort is unable to come up with enough evidence to support his claim that ‘C&C is … comparable to an Icelandic saga.’ (p. 81). 12 See, for example, S. D. White (1989: 1-18). 100 The ASC 755: an annotated bibliography 1.2.- EDITIONS AND TRANSLATIONS PLUMMER, Charles 1952[1892-9]: Two of the Saxon Chronicles Parallel. 2 vols. Vol. II. (Oxford: Clarendon Press), pp. 44-8. Notes to Plummer’s much praised edition of the annal (on pp. 46-50, vol. I). Some of his comments on this entry may seem somewhat general (‘Arrangements of a Saxon house,’ p. 45) but he offers good references to other sources like Æthelweard’s Chronicle or Bede’s Historia Ecclesiastica, and so it has commonly been accepted as the departure point for any research concerning this annal. His linguistic observations are also valuable as he gives a detailed description of some difficult grammatical structures and the different readings found in the various manuscripts. BRIGHT, James W. 41903: An Anglo-Saxon Reader. (London: Swan Sonnenschein), pp. 14-15, 202-3. The author gives brief comments, mainly drawn from previous or contemporaneous scholars (Earle, Sweet ..., p. 202) to his edition of the annal from the Parker Chronicle. Nevertheless, it appears to be hardly useful from a modern point of view. FLOWER, R. & H. Smith eds. 1941: The Parker Chronicle and Laws (Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, MS 173). Early English Text Society, Original Series 208 (London: OUP). Although this is the only facsimile edition of this manuscript so far, it offers an excellent quality in its plates (see Fol. 10a and Fol. 10b for the annal AD 755). As the editors acknowledge in the preface, due to its wartime publication, the work unfortunately lacks an introduction with some remarks on the manuscript and its context. A new, perhaps digital, edition in full colour with such introductory notes would be desirable these days. 101 F. J. Álvarez López WHITELOCK, D. 1955: English Historical Documents, c. 500-1042. (London: Eyre and Spottiswoode), pp. 114-16, 162-3. Considered one of the chief translations of the annal, this work offers valuable notes and comments on the whole Chronicle, particularly on its sources as well as pointing out some alternative readings. Though she dedicates one paragraph to the 755 entry and its possible sources (p. 115), it does not offer much new information. She also provides a short bibliography with some items mentioned here (p. 130). Both of these were utterly removed from the second edition published in 1979. MITCHELL, B. & Fred. C. Robinson 72007[1964]: A guide to Old English. (Oxford: Blackwell), pp. 220-3. In this book for elementary students of Old English, the authors offer an edition of the entry accompanied by some preliminary comments on the annal in which they identify the most general topics of study around it (‘the heroic choice’, ‘oral tradition’, ‘spontaneous syntax’, etc., p. 220). It is certainly useful for students of the language, although the notes avoid going into any kind of detailed discussion. FOWLER, R. 1966: Old English Prose and Verse. (London: Routledge), pp. 46, 126-7. Mainly introductory comments to Fowler’s own edition of the Old English text. He makes fairly general remarks without going into deep discussion. However, he successfully pinpoints the most relevant thematic arguments discussed to that moment (oral origin of the story, heroic values, etc.), as he emphasizes the literary nature of the account. There are a few references to previous scholars as well as a brief bibliography on p. 126, both of them 102 The ASC 755: an annotated bibliography lacking some key references. The text itself seems to follow the conventional patterns established both morphologically and in its division into paragraphs. WHITELOCK, D. ed. 1970[1967]: Sweet’s Anglo-Saxon Reader in Prose and Verse. Fifteenth edition. (Oxford: Clarendon Press), pp. 1-3. This is an influential edition of the annal in its original Old English version with a few introductory notes. After a reference to its oral tradition, Whitelock offers a rather negative view on the ‘unsophisticated’ style (p. 1) of the account which contrasts sharply with the importance that scholarship has conventionally given to this text. There is also some information on the manuscript tradition of the Chronicle. GARMONSWAY, G. Norman ed. 1972: The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. (London: Dent) A comparative translation of three different copies of the Chronicle: namely, the Parker and Laud versions as well as the text from the F manuscript (Cotton Domitian A.VIII) with certain references to other codices in the footnotes. Garmonsway’s annotations are primarily focused on rather general issues such as the chronological dislocation of the annal, the definition of an Anglo-Saxon burh and certain minor differences between manuscripts. More discussion on deeper topics would have been desirable and more profitable for the reader’s understanding of the story and its implications. Although the few names given refer to relevant figures (Stenton, Plummer, Magoun), they appear to be slightly out of date. BATELY, Janet ed. 1986: The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. A Collaborative Edition. Vol. 3. MS A. (Cambridge: D.S. Brewer). A broad description of the manuscript is given in the introduction to this excellent edition of MS. A: Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, MS 173. 103 F. J. Álvarez López Despite the fact that there is no direct reference to the 755 annal, the information about scripts, hands, layout and the different items in the book, as well as the study of the relationships between the different surviving manuscripts, make it worthy of consultation. MAGENNIS, H. & I. Herbison 1990: Discovering Old English. (Belfast: Ultonian Press), pp. 56-63. Despite being a mere edition of the text (from MS. A) for students of Old English accompanied by some conventional and introductory comments, the editors are able to develop the theme of the heroic tradition to a certain extent after praising the narrative virtues of the ‘first short story in English’ (p. 56). It is interesting to note that they divide the annal into three main parts, though apparently without following any specific pattern, only to make it easier for non-advanced students of the language. A useful layout is used as each of these portions is accompanied by a glossary on the same page and a list of valuable textual notes facing the entry. BRAVO, A., F. García & S. González eds. 1994[1992]: Old English Anthology (Oviedo: Servicio Publicaciones Universidad de Oviedo), pp. 291-3. This edition of the Old English text is preceded by a short introduction mainly aimed at those interested in the Chronicle as a whole. It offers some information on the different editions of the whole text as well as on the number of surviving manuscripts and their stemma. In the back of the Anthology (pp. 456-7), the editors inserted another short note on this particular entry alluding rather broadly to its origin and offering only three bibliographical references and a few semantic and linguistic footnotes on the text itself (such as Andred, Pryfetes Flodan or the narrative switch into direct style). Some commentary on other problematic issues such as the heroic struggle between kin and king as well as further bibliographical details seem to be missing. 104 The ASC 755: an annotated bibliography SWANTON, Michael transl. and ed. 2000[1996]: The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles (London: Phoenix), pp. 46-50. As the author states in the introduction (p. xxx), his edition follows the same pattern used by Earle and Plummer (see p. 3 above). This double page layout with the translation of A and E (and references to the rest of the surviving copies where necessary) offers a mere update of Garmonsway’s work (see p. 5 above). However, Swanton presents one of the latest efforts to bring the most important source of Anglo-Saxon culture closer to both scholars and students of the period. TREHARNE, Elaine ed. 2004: Old and Middle English, c.890-c.1400: An Anthology. Second edition (Oxford: Blackwell), pp. 20-3. A very useful edition and translation of some annals from the Chronicle with a short introduction in which the editor gives a rather general view of the whole work referring briefly to its possible origin, structure and educational aim. She also comments on the two extracts edited: The annals for 755, ‘the story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard’ and for 855-78, ‘the death of Edmund’ and ‘Alfred’s battles with the Vikings.’ As she states in the introduction (p. xv), the ‘explanatory annotation’ preceding the bilingual rendering of these entries includes some ‘bibliographical information for students:’ some simple but accurate notes and a few bibliographical references, mainly on its latest editions. MARSDEN, Richard ed. 2004: The Cambridge Old English Reader. (Cambridge: CUP), pp. 245-50. An edition of the vernacular text found in MS. A, accompanied by a critical apparatus dealing with both semantic and linguistic issues relating to the annal. The text itself is preceded by an introductory discussion where the 105 F. J. Álvarez López editor refers to the main critical trends around this story. Within only four paragraphs, he is able to skilfully pinpoint the main issues on the possible origin of the story, its key linguistic features or the semantic struggles the reader may be left with due to the so-called paratactic style. He also lists some useful bibliographical references as further reading. 1.3.- COMMENTARY MAGOUN, F. P. 1933: Cynewulf, Cyneheard and Osric. Anglia 57: 361-76. The author offers a new division of the paragraphs of the text ‘to facilitate reference within this paper and to emphasize […] the well-balanced structure of the episode’ (p. 363) as well as a list of all the ‘dramatis personae’ (p. 365), which is supported by a discussion of his new arrangement. Nowadays, it may seem slightly out-of-date, although he is the first scholar to have openly admitted a possible connection with the Old Norse/Icelandic sagas (Plummer had just hinted at it very briefly – see p. 3 above) despite not pursuing the idea any further. WRIGHT, C. E. 1939: The Cultivation of Saga in Anglo-Saxon England. (Edinburgh: Oliver & Boyd), pp. 26-7, 78-80. Though much cited by later commentators, Wright only dedicates two short fragments of his work to the annal. There he accepts its oral origin and its saga-like theme, structure and style, which prompts him to state that ‘the short introductory passage formed probably no part of the story in its originally saga-form’ (p. 80). Unfortunately he is unable to give evidence to support this. He also renders a ‘fairly literal translation’ (pp. 78-80). WRENN, C. L. 1940-1: A Saga of the Anglo-Saxons. History 25: 208-15. ‘There is one famous passage in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle which […] does bear a quite remarkable resemblance to an Old Icelandic saga in its stylistic 106 The ASC 755: an annotated bibliography features’ (p. 210). The author gives an extensive definition of ‘saga’ and applies its various features to the Chronicle annal after rendering his own translation. Although some of his arguments are plausible (‘allusiveness’, ‘colloquial language’, ‘conciseness’, p. 22), he describes the story’s origin with a disappointing ‘very speculative explanation’(p. 213). Despite being frequently referred to when discussing the saga-like origin of the annal, it appears to have lost most of its significance after Heinemann’s article (see item 21). MOORMAN, C. 1954: The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle for 755. Notes And Queries 199: 94-8. Moorman’s aim is to find the ‘connection’ used by the chronicler to give ‘his entry […] some sort of structural and thematic unity’ (p. 94). The British hostage plays that central role as he is identified by this commentator both as the swain and the ealdorman’s godson. Extremely critical about Magoun’s article (see p. 7 above), his proposal is tremendously doubtful and exceptionally implausible for he relies entirely on mere assumptions. TOWERS, T. H. 1963: Thematic unity in the story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard. Journal of English and Germanic Philology 62: 310-316. In order to establish the thematic unity of the annal, the author examines and finally rejects the earlier proposals by Magoun and Moorman (see pp. 7 and 8 above). In his opinion ‘the political concept in this chronicle is much more sophisticated than the comitatus, and it comprehends the comitatus’ (p. 315). Thus, that ‘political interest’ (p. 316) would give the story its ‘thematic harmony’ (p. 312). His argument is plausible in that a political background seems obvious behind the main action of the entry. However, he fails to consider appropriately the thematic relevance of some other elements, such as the heroic values in the dialogues prior to each fight or the theme of revenge. 107 F. J. Álvarez López BATTAGLIA, F. J. 1966: Anglo-Saxon Chronicle for 755: the missing evidence for a traditional reading. Publications of the Modern Language Association of America 81: 173-8. The author describes the annal as ‘a coherent narrative of internecine strife between branches of Cerdic’s family tree.’ (p. 178) Therefore, in his view the ‘missing evidence’ of the title comes to be the blood ties between Sigeberht, Cynewulf and Cyneheard. However, his innovative reading depends to a great extent on later renderings of the story, mainly that of Geoffrey Gaimar, a twelfth-century chronicler (p. 176). He focuses his discussion, perhaps too much, in trying to justify the behaviour of the ‘kinsmen’ (p. 176) inside the burh with Cyneheard as not betraying the comitatus spirit. WATERHOUSE, R. 1969: The Theme and Structure of 755 Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. Philologische Mitteilungen 70: 630-40. After establishing a new set of divisions and subdivisions of the text, Waterhouse offers a rather unclear study of the annal’s structure based on a number of parallelisms and contrasts within her numerous sections and around the ‘ideal of comitatus-loyalty to one’s lord’ (p. 640). Consciously ignoring ‘the historical accuracy … of the events recounted’ (p. 631), she probably goes further than the annalist in searching for a net of connections and interconnections within the account’s otherwise uncomplicated structure. WILSON, J. H. 1977: Cynewulf and Cyneheard: The Falls of Princes. Papers On Language And Literature 13, 3: 312-17. ‘In this paper, (Wilson is) concerned with the […] interpretation of the entry and its dramatic quality’ (p. 312). He studies the dramatic implications of the ‘tragic catastrophe’ of the falls of the three royal characters (i.e., Sigebryht, Cynewulf and Cyneheard) in order to obtain a ‘fuller understanding of the episode and a fuller appreciation of the accomplishment of the chronicler.’ (p. 108 The ASC 755: an annotated bibliography 317) He focuses mainly on the moral implications of ‘their attempts to elevate themselves in the defiance of authority and established order’ (p. 314), which eventually leads them to a fatal end. He offers a rather reduced view of the whole entry as he willingly ignores other current interpretations (‘comitatus’, ‘blood relationships’, ‘political overtones’, p. 317). MCTURK, R. W. 1981: “Cynewulf and Cyneheard” and the Icelandic Family Sagas. Leeds Studies In English 12: 81-127. The author attempts ‘an investigation of the claim made so often that C&C is in one way or another comparable to an Icelandic saga’ (p. 81). Although, in this highly elaborate article he carries out a dense formal and stylistic study of the annal in the light of previous literary theories regarding the Icelandic sagas, he obtains not entirely successful results as he is unable to establish an effective connection between this entry and the Icelandic tradition: ‘while the evidence for the formal characteristics […] in C&C is not overwhelming, it is perhaps rather more impressive than the evidence for oral style […]. Over half of the twenty laws […] seem to be closely followed.’ (p. 113). SHIPPEY, T. A. 1985: Boar and Badger: An Old English Heroic Antithesis? Leeds Studies In English 16: 220-39. The author studies here three pieces of the Old English heroic tradition (The Story of Cynewulf and Cyneheard, Waldhere and The Battle of Maldon) in order to ascertain the response of an heroic ‘champion’ when under pressure, as he responds either with the ‘fury and impetus’ of a boar or with the ‘doggedness’ and ‘cost-effective defence’ of a badger (p. 225). Besides examining Cynewulf’s behaviour at the doorway (as a boar), he affirms the fictional nature of the king’s reaction to the sight of the usurper judging by the contextual difficulties of the moment (it happened at night). His proposal as regards this entry resides mainly in a sensible interpretation of the text and the possible annalist’s aims concerning the character of the king. 109 F. J. Álvarez López WHITE, S. D. 1989: Kinship and Lordship in Early Medieval England: The Story of Sigeberht, Cynewulf and Cyneheard. Viator 20: 1-18. The author offers a reappraisal of the ‘codes’ ruling the loyalties of warriors in terms of kinship and lordship. Departing from the traditional interpretation of the story (‘the decline of kinship and family’, p. 18), he sets out to offer a deeper study of this type of political relationship in the context of early medieval societies. His conclusions (‘it seems impossible to locate the definitive appearance of a society founded primarily on contract’, p. 18) seem not entirely convincing, as he rests his argument on the fact that ‘this author’s written text is not a definitive, impartial, or complete statement of law or custom’ (p. 7). The number of references given in the footnotes is certainly noteworthy. HEINEMANN, F. J. 1993: “Cynewulf and Cyneheard” and Landnámabók: Another Narrative Tradition. Leeds Studies In English 24: 57-89. With the aim of ‘dispos(ing) of the notion that “Cynewulf and Cyneheard” resembles a saga’ (p. 58) the author establishes clearly the three main differences (intertextuality, treatment of subject matter and narrative voices, pp. 58-64) between this form of composition and a chronicle. Next, he uses ‘three types of entries narrating extended conflict in Landnámabók’ (p. 65), an Old Icelandic narrative chronicle, to test his claim ‘that sagas tell us more about the past than can any summary of their plot’ (p. 65). In the end, after establishing a clear link between this annal and those entries in Landnámabók, he concludes that this ‘is not a saga but a rather tantalising summary of a complicated story that we are no longer able to reconstruct completely’ (p. 82). He successfully challenges all previous scholars who found this entry’s source in the Icelandic saga tradition as he is able to establish a strong differentiation between the two. 110 The ASC 755: an annotated bibliography JOHANSEN, J. G. 1993: Language, Structure and Theme in the “Cynewulf and Cyneheard” Episode. English Language Notes 31, 1: 3-8. In this commentator’s opinion, the purpose of the ‘structural subdivisions’ established by the annalist ‘is to focus our attention on the courage and prowess of Cynewulf and his men, and […] to glorify those ideals and the individuals who live up to them’ (p. 7). His discussion does not seem to add anything really innovative to the current study of the annal and some of his assumptions appear to be questionable (‘Cynewulf’s armies were large and splendid’, p. 3; ‘[Osric’s band] penetrated … into the very chamber where Cynewulf himself had been trapped earlier’, p. 4). Besides, the references given in the footnotes also lack some significant names. KLEINSCHMIDT, Harald 1996: The Old English annal for 757 and West Saxon dynastic strife. Journal of Medieval History 22, 3: 209-24. ‘This article seeks to place the unusual entry for 757 in the Parker Chronicle into the context of eighth- and ninth-century controversies about hereditary succession in the Kingdom of Wessex’ (p. 209). As he explains, the author offers a deep historical study on the ‘dynastic legitimacy’ of the descendants of Ine as a means to justify the alleged attitude of the ninth-century annalist against the three royal characters of the entry. Thus, he arrives at the dubious conclusion that they ‘appear as villains and could be blamed for misgovernment and misbehaviour from the point of view of an insider critic because they belonged to a branch of the West Saxon stirps regia which … had lost its struggle over rules for succession … in 802’(p.224). The impressive bibliography offered is certainly remarkable as it concerns a wide range of topics such as the succession to the other Anglo-Saxon kingdoms (p. 216), Sutton Hoo (p. 211), or Beowulf (p. 217). BREMMER, Rolf H. Jr. 1997: The Germanic Context of “Cynewulf and Cyneheard” revisited. Neophilologus, 81, 3: 445-65. 111 F. J. Álvarez López ‘What I propose here is a macro-contextualization that leads us away from the intermediate context of the annal’ (p. 447). This ‘macro-contextualization’ is based on three main points of discussion (uncle-nephew relation, wif’s role and the offer of feorh and feoh) which he seeks to explain by using a good number of examples from other literary traditions (such as those from Iceland, Frisia or Lombardy). The first of his topics (an uncle-nephew relation between Cynewulf and Cyneheard) seems dubious, as Bremmer fails to comment on the same relationship between Cynewulf and Sigebyrht twenty-nine years before. Similarly, his explanation of the role of the female character (‘who falls prey – being raped – to the machinations of men thrusting for power’, p. 456) is, as the author admits, based on ‘speculation’ (p. 455). SCRAGG, D. G. 1997: Wifcyþþe and the Morality of the Cynewulf and Cyneheard Episode in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. In Roberts, J. & J. L. Nelson with M. Godden eds., Alfred the Wise: Studies in honour of Janet Bately on occasion of her sixty-fifth birthday. (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer), pp. 179-85. Scragg offers an interesting study around the meaning of the unique word wifcyþþe. He concludes that ‘the message of the piece is … arguably not a broadly moral one about heroic values but a specifically Christian one’ (p. 184), and states that wifcyþþe offers ‘an opprobrious moral comment (which) may thus be regarded as changing the import of the annal’ (p. 185). However, as he rests his Christian reading mainly on the figure of Osric’s godson, miraculously the sole survivor from the last fight, he seems unable to fit the female character into his innovative interpretation. RULON-MILLER, Nina 1997: “Cynewulf and Cyneheard”: a Woman Screams. Philological Quarterly 76: 113-32. ‘My concern in this essay is the woman Cynewulf was visiting at Merton’ (p. 113). From this starting point, the author applies a feminist reading to the 112 The ASC 755: an annotated bibliography annal in order to ‘clean’ it from the traditional ‘androcentric’ interpretations which have placed ‘the woman at Merton at best as a trivial event and at worst as “the cause of it all.”‘ (p. 124) Her alternative analysis of the story seems to lack textual supporting evidence from the short piece as she claims, for instance, ‘the interpretation of Sigeberht’s unryhtum dædum as “sexual misbehaviour”‘ (p. 121). HILL, John M. 2000: Violence, Law and Kingship in the Annals of West Saxon Feud. In Hill, J. M., The Anglo-Saxon Warrior Ethic. (Gainesville: University of Florida Press), pp. 74-92. Departing from an unlikely theory where the annalist of 755 would have made up this story from ‘some kind of outline of the incident’ (p. 74) and in response to Alfred’s political interests, Hill goes on to discuss the plot and all of its turns quoting the opinions of some relevant scholars and focusing all the time on ‘the question of rightful, […], legal deposition or expulsion of kingship’ (p. 74) in Wessex. The main argument to support his innovative theory has to do with the ‘number of common features’ (p.74) that this annal shares with those narrating the story of Æthelwold, Alfred’s nephew (901 and 905). It is also remarkable the number of times he refers to other heroic narratives, especially Beowulf, in order to establish some kind of generic heroic behaviour. CONDE SILVESTRE, J. Camilo 2004: The limits of History and Fiction in the 755 entry of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. In Rodriguez, A. & F. Alonso eds., Voices of the Past: Studies in Old and Middle English Language and Literature. (A Coruña: Netbiblo), pp. 165-172. ‘“Cynewulf and Cyneheard” may be considered as a benchmark to explore the fading limits between factual and fictional narratives both theoretically, from the perspective afforded by contemporary literary theory, and genetically, by tracing the process back to the internal development of medieval chronicles.’ 113 F. J. Álvarez López (p. 167) This quotation summarises what the author intends to accomplish in this article: a systematic application of contemporary literary theory to the entry in order to define the limits between reality and fiction. It represents an innovative attempt to tackle such a complicated issue in this particular entry obtaining interesting results: However, his conclusions seem to rest upon theoretical assumptions (‘the limits of history and fiction were blurred when texts of factual intention … started to make use of narrativity,’ p. 170) rather than upon textual evidence. 1.4.- OTHER USEFUL REFERENCES BELL, Alexander ed. 1960: Geffrei Gaimar, L’Estoire des Engleis. AngloNorman Text Society, Vols. XIV-XVI (Oxford: B. Blackwell), pp. 5761. This is the only edition of the twelfth-century compilation of previous material by Geffrei Gaimar who produced a chronicle in verse for his Norman audience. His account of the Cynewulf and Cyneheard episode (ll. 1804-1916) has been sometimes quoted as it varies considerably from that in the AngloSaxon Chronicle (for instance, here Cynewulf and Cyneheard are presented as uncle and nephew). In the critical apparatus, the editor gives different readings found in the other extant manuscripts of Gaimar. CAMPBELL, A. ed. and transl. 1962: The Chronicle of Æthelweard. (London: Nelson), pp. xxiii, 22-5. Campbell’s notes in the introduction warn the reader of the misreadings and misinterpretations made by Æthelweard when he translated this annal into Latin. His layout, with the Latin text facing the Modern English one, is considerably helpful. It has been widely cited by those scholars who argue about the identity of the wifcyþþe on Merantune, as a result of the unfortunate translation made by Æthelweard. 114 The ASC 755: an annotated bibliography BATELY, Janet 1978: The compilation of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle 60 BC to AD 890: Vocabulary as Evidence. Proceedings Of The British Academy 64, 93-129. This is a study of the vocabulary in the ‘890 chronicle’ (p. 96), as the author calls it. On pp. 106-7 we find the only mention of the annal for 755. Here she deals with its origins and nature with exceptional brevity, giving no more than one single reference (Wrenn, p. 8 above). More interested about the ‘number of differences of usage between this account and other pre-885 annals’ (pp. 106-7), she does not offer any new relevant information for the study of the entry. O’KEEFE O’BRIEN, K. 1991: Heroic Values and Christian Ethics. In Godden, M. and Lapidge, M., eds, The Cambridge Companion to Old English Literature. (Cambridge: CUP), pp. 107-25. In her commentary on the ‘unusually detailed representation of conflicts implicit in the heroic ethos,’ (p. 110) the author highlights ‘the focal point of the story … on social order,’ (p. 111) and the fact that it ‘focuses on the tensions created by the conflicting demands of kin and group, of king and usurper and of loyalty and self-interest’ (p. 111). This often-cited article places the entry into the wider context of the heroic tradition as it emphasizes the common features of its main Anglo-Saxon examples: namely, Beowulf, The Battle of Maldon and the annal for 755. BREMMER, Rolf H. Jr. 2005: Old English Heroic Literature. In Johnson, D., & Treharne, E., eds, Readings in Medieval Texts. Interpreting Old and Middle English Literature. (Oxford: OUP), pp. 75-90. Within this general overview of the main examples of heroic texts in Old English literature, the author refers to this entry (pp. 86-7) by recounting its plot and commenting rather briefly on the main heroic features of the story: 115 F. J. Álvarez López ‘loyalty and revenge’ (p. 87). This is undoubtedly a good place to start for students interested in the heroic tradition surrounding early Anglo-Saxon England, but it appears somewhat broad from a scholastic point of view. Francisco José Álvarez López University of Manchester – Universidade de Vigo *†* 116 THE MIDDLE ENGLISH CHAPTER OF THE ‘MODAL STORY’ Abstract The development of the English modals has been variously interpreted either as a whole series of changes taking place simultaneously in the 16th century or as a result of gradual, related changes originating already in Old English and taking place mainly in the Middle and Early Modern English periods. This second view is also the one that will be maintained in this paper, and evidence in its support will be drawn from our analysis of the third section (M3) of the Middle English part of The Helsinki Corpus of English Texts (1350-1420). It will be shown that the evolution of the English verbal modal system has taken place in a progression of stages strictly related to one another, all of which play a relevant role in determining the system as it is now. Our analysis will mainly focus on the Middle English period, which constitutes a fundamental stage in the transitional process of auxiliation (Kuteva 2001) of English modal verbs. Keywords: Middle English, Early Modern English, modal, verb, development, Helsinki Corpus, gradual, related, changes Resumen El surgimiento de los verbos modales ingleses ha sido interpretado, bien como una serie de cambios ocurridos simultáneamente durante el siglo XVI, bien como el resultado de cambios graduales interrelacionados, cuyo origen está en el Inglés Antiguo, y desarrollados principalmente en Inglés Medio e Inglés Moderno Temprano. Este artículo se orienta en esta segunda línea, fundamentándose en el análisis de la sección tercera (M3) de la parte dedicada al Inglés Medio del Helsinki Corpus of English Texts (1350-1420). Se mostrará cómo la evolución del sistema de los verbos modales ingleses ha tenido lugar mediante una progresión de etapas estrictamente relacionadas entre sí, y todas ellas con un papel crucial en la construcción del sistema tal y como es hoy en día. El análisis se centra en el período del Inglés Medio, que constituye un estadio fundamental en el proceso de transición denominado “auxiliarización” (Kuteva 2001) de los verbos modales ingleses. Palabras clave: Inglés Medio, Inglés Moderno Temprano, modal, verbo, desarrollo, Corpus Helsinki, gradual, relacionado, cambios. The development of the English modals has been interpreted in more or less radical terms. In particular, it was David Lightfoot (1974, 1979) who considered the evolutions in the verbal modal system as a whole series of changes taking place simultaneously in the 16th century. A different interpretation is instead offered by those (e.g. Aitchison 1980, Plank 1984, Warner 1993, Fischer 2003) who see this evolution as a result of gradual, related changes originating already in Old English and taking place mainly in the Middle and Early Modern English periods. This second view is also the Mauricio Gotti, Selim 13 (2005-2006): 115—146 Mauricio Gotti one that will be maintained in this paper, and evidence in its support will be drawn from our analysis1 of the third section (M3) of the Middle English part of The Helsinki Corpus of English Texts (1350-1420).2 It will be shown that the evolution of the English verbal modal system has taken place in a progression of stages strictly related to one another, all of which play a relevant role in determining the system as it is now. Our analysis will mainly focus on the Middle English period, which constitutes a fundamental stage in the transitional process of auxiliation (Kuteva 2001) of English modal verbs. Our investigation, which will be limited to central modal verbs, will take into consideration four main aspects of this grammaticalisation (Hopper / Traugott 1993) process, concerning not only syntactic features, but also semantic and pragmatic ones: 1. loss of morphological and syntactic traits; 2. periphrastic subjunctive forms; 3. new markers for the tense system; 4. development of epistemic meanings. Although dialectal variants played an important role in Middle English, our analysis will not take into consideration issues of a diatopic nature, not only for a question of space, but also because the major syntactic changes in this period do not generally find their origin in dialectal variation but are the result of developments common to all Middle English dialects (Fischer 1992: 208). 1 The analysis presented here derives from a research project entitled Aspects of Variation in Linguistic Modality in Late Middle English and Early Modern English, funded by the Italian Ministry for University Research. Some of the results of the project are presented in Gotti & al. (2002) and Hart (2003). 2 Detailed information about the The Helsinki Corpus of English Texts can be found in its manual (cf. Kytö 1996). 118 The ME chaper on the ‘modal story’ 1. LOSS OF MORPHOLOGICAL AND SYNTACTIC TRAITS Some of the morphological traits of pre-modal3 verbs (such as infinitival and participial forms) are unattested in the Old English texts that have come down to us. This might be due to the scarcity of the texts that have survived, because some of the forms that seem to be missing in this period are attested in Middle English: (1) but I desire gretly that [...] schrewes weren despoyled of mowynge to don yvel (BOETHCH: 446.C2, Gotti & al. 2002: 83) (2) yif so be that it be wrecchidnesse to wilne to doon yvel, thanne is it more wrecchidnesse to mowe don yvel (BOETHCH: 446.C2, Gotti & al. 2002: 97) In the Middle English period pre-modal verbs largely lost their infinitival, present participle and past participle forms and evolved in their auxiliation process through the following steps: - they lost the ability to take direct objects; - their past tense forms no longer signalled past time reference; - they took a bare infinitive, while all other verbs started taking to-infinitives; - they stopped occurring in combination.4 In this way, they started differentiating themselves into an independent class with their own morphological and syntactic features. This evolution, however, has been much more gradual than Lightfoot has presented it. For example, past tense pre-modals could already be used to express present time reference in Old English, while modals with a direct 3 In their Old English usage these verbs are usually called ‘pre-modals’ because they lack many of the properties associated with present-day modals. The nature of these verbs has been greatly debated: some scholars (e.g. Lightfoot 1979) mainly consider them full verbs; others (e.g. Van Kemenade 1989, Traugott 1992, Denison, 1993, Warner 1993) have shown how pre-modals were already distinct from full verbs for some particular syntactic and semantic features, which somehow associated them at times with the class of auxiliaries. 4 This feature has remained in some dialects or varieties of English (e.g. Modern Scots). 119 Mauricio Gotti object have been found as late as 1652 with CAN5 (Visser 1963-73: §551), 1685 with WOULD (Gotti & al. 2002: 303) and even 1862 with WILL (Visser 1963-73: §§557-8). Indeed, in Middle English many of these verbs still show non-modal usage. However, the evolution towards the auxiliary function is not uniform, as can be seen from Table 1 (based on M3 data). This shows that the process of grammaticalisation was completed earlier in the case of MAY, MIGHT, MUST, SHALL and SHOULD which present no main verb usage in the period taken into consideration (1350-1420). On the other hand, some of them – such as CAN, COULD, WILL and WOULD – still had a relevant main verbal function. Compared to all other modals, CAN and COULD appear to lag behind in the pace of grammaticalisation, since in M3 up to 27% of CAN-occurrences and 28% of COULD still feature main verb values. CAN COULD MAY MIGHT MUST SHALL SHOULD WILL WOULD 27 28 0,14 0 0 0 0,4 10 12 Table 1. Occurrences of modals as main verbal forms in the corpus expressed in percentage (after Gotti & al. 2002: 329). Double modal constructions were frequent in Middle English, where syntactic units like SHALL MAY, SHOULD MAY, SHALL WILL, MAY CAN and SHALL CAN were possible.6 Here are a few examples found in our corpus: 5 Throughout the text, capitals will be used to denote the lexemes (e.g. SHALL and WILL), while italics will be used for their graphic variants (such as shall, shalt, shan’t, will, wilt, etc.). 6 For discussions and bibliographical references concerning the origin, history, and development of modal combinations, see Butters (1991), Nagle (1993, 1994, 1995, 1997), De la Cruz (1994, 1995), Battistella (1995) and Fennell / Butters (1996), inter al. 120 The ME chaper on the ‘modal story’ (3) Bot now it is so blendid wiþ þe original synne þat it may not kon worche þis werk bot it it be illuminid by grace. (CLOUD: 116, Gotti & al. 2002: 54) (4) it may not be after þe cours of kynde ne of comoun grace, þat I schuld mowe kepe or elles make aseeþ to any mo tymes þan to þoo þat ben for to come. (CLOUD: 21, Gotti & al. 2002: 241) The most frequent occurrences that have been found in our analysis of the M3 corpus include the auxiliary SHALL, with 4 cases of SHALL + MAY and 2 of SHALL + CAN: (5) The whiche thinges yif that any wyght loketh wel in his thought the strengthe of that oon and of that oothir, he schal lyghtly mowen seen that thise two thinges ben dyvers. (BOETHCH: 451. C1, Gotti & al. 2002: 196) (6) Do þis werk euermore wiþ-outyn cesyng & wiþ-outyn discrecion, and þou schalt wel kun beginne & ceese in alle þin oþer werkes wiþ a grete discrecion. (CLOUD: 81, Gotti & al. 2002: 197) The prevalent futural usage of the SHALL-forms in these modal combinations has led De la Cruz (1994) to hypothesize a possible medieval influence of French on the English language, based on calques of future forms of pouvoir and vouloir. Nagle, instead, explains the appearance of these combinations with the more widespread early use of SHALL as a marker indicating futurity and the less advanced progress of MAY and CAN in their loss of lexical-verb features: Shall even in the late OE had begun to undergo auxiliarization and by ME was advanced in the process. May and can on the other hand, were late in becoming full auxiliaries, in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries respectively. Therefore, shall was a natural candidate to precede the two others, which could be both auxiliaries and main verbs throughout ME. (Nagle 1993: 367) The instances we have found seem to confirm Nagle’s hypothesis. 121 Mauricio Gotti As regards the non-use of the particle to before the infinitive form, already in Old English pre-modals were normally followed by the bare infinitive. In Middle English the particle to marking the infinitive started to be used more and more frequently, but never followed the modal verb to strengthen the close relation between a modal and its infinitive. Indeed, the few cases found in Middle English texts in which an infinitive preceded by to is dependent on a modal are not very clear. For example, in the following quotation the infinitive to kon (still used with its main verbal meaning of ‘to know’) dependent on may appears some distance from it: (7) For of alle oþer creatures and þeire werkes – he, and of þe werkes of God self – may a man þorou grace haue fulheed o knowing, and wel to kon þinke on hem. (CLOUD: 26, Gotti & al. 2002: 46) Also in the following Early Modern English example, the use of a toinfinitive in collocation with CAN may be accounted for by the peculiar syntactic structure of the sentence itself, its main verb being at the very beginning, thus partly losing the direct dependency on the modal: (8) you saw him within four or five Days after at Tixhall? LORD ASTON. To name particular Days, I cannot; but that I saw him several Days at Tixhall, I am sure. (OATES: IV.75.C2, Gotti & al. 2002: 53) The analysis of our corpus has also shown cases in which modal verbs are followed by BE + ing-form, a structure which was still rare in Middle English (cf. Visser 1963-73: 2413, Strang 1970: 208, Denison 1993: 407). In the Middle English instances found, however, the ing-form seems to have prevalently an adjectival function. Indeed, in the first of the following M3 quotations the ing-form precedes SHALL and could serve as an appositional phrase to the noun it follows, while in the second, the ing-form might have an adjectival function: (9) and ech fleisch schal no more be slayn of the watris of the greet flood, neither the greet flood distriynge al erthe schal be more. (WYCOLD: IX.1G, Gotti & al. 2002: 198) 122 The ME chaper on the ‘modal story’ [neither the greet flood schal be distriynge al erthe more / neither the greet flood, distriynge al erthe (= destroying all the Earth / which destroys all the Earth), schal be more] (10) Breþren, we schulen be wytinge þat our is now us to ryse from sleepe (WSERM1: I. 475, Gotti & al. 2002: 198) 2. PERIPHRASTIC SUBJUNCTIVE FORMS There is no doubt that the uses of the subjunctive are a part of modality in the broad sense.7 The closeness of the subjunctive and the modality of modal auxiliaries is shown by the fact that Old English subjunctive use is partly replaced by later use of modal verbs. Indeed, already in Old English synthetic subjunctive forms started becoming opaque, due to syncretism with indicative forms. This phenomenon, which became more evident in the Middle English period, was accompanied by the increase in the use of pre-modal verbs – such as cunnan, sceal and magan – to express this mood. The periphrastic construction, which was already in use in Old English, became more and more popular in Middle English: Mustanoja (1960: 453) estimates that by the end of the 15th century the ratio between the periphrastic and inflectional subjunctive was nine to one in non-dependent clauses. This rise was favoured by the fact that pre-modal verbs in the subjunctive were often used in Old English to strengthen the main verb, as in the following example: (11) a Forþon us is nydþearf, þæt þa mynstru of þære stowe moten [SUBJ] beon gecyrrede to oþre stowe Therefore us is need that the monasteries from that place must be changed to other place [It is necessary therefore that the monasteries will be moved from that place to another] (GD 2 (C)5.112.24, Fischer 2003: 22) 7 For Visser (1963-73: §834) the explicitly marked subjunctive (the ‘modally-marked form’) is associated with “a modality of non-fact (wish, imagination, contingency, doubt, diffidence, uncertainty, supposition, potentiality, non-reality, etc.)”. 123 Mauricio Gotti The frequent use of pre-modals in subjunctive forms proved to be an excellent substitute when the verbal morpheme indicating the subjunctive mood gradually weakened and in the end disappeared. The auxiliaries most frequently found in subjunctive clauses are MAY / MIGHT, MUST, SHOULD and WOULD. MAY replaced the earlier subjunctive in Middle English in the expression of exhortations, wishes and in clauses of purpose (Mustanoja 1960: 453). Subjunctive-like MAY is often found in noun clauses after verbs of direct petition like pray and beseech with firstperson subjects: (12) we prayen [...] that the Statut [...] mowe stonde in strengthe (PET3: 197, Gotti & al. 2002: 122) and also after other verbs that similarly refer to a desirable action or event in the future, such as wish and hope (notice the clearly subjunctive be in the coordinated clause): (13) þe Kyngus wille is, þat […] þe ordre of Knyghthode, […] be al brouht to nouht […] and þat alle may take ensample by þe, her lord aftirward trewely forto serue (BRUT: 227, Gotti & al. 2002: 123) Similarly, MAY-forms in clauses introduced by but (‘unless’) have an explicit subjunctive function: (14) it schal be payd, but he mowe fynde a verrey encheson (RET: 55, Gotti & al. 2002: 123) The M3 corpus also contains cases of final clauses (some purpose, some result) with explicitly-subjunctive MAY: (15) Let þer be fair peynture […] þat þe fayrnesse of o vertu […] mowe make þe mor brit in schynyngge [so that the fairness of one virtue [...] make / may make you more bright] (AELR3: 33, Gotti & al. 2002: 124) An apparent case of MAY used as a subjunctive substitute in a temporal clause has been found in the following quotation: 124 The ME chaper on the ‘modal story’ (16) þei [...] gon be see & be londe .xj. monethes or .xij. or more sumtyme or þei may come to the yle of Cathay (MAND: 140, Gotti & al. 2002: 126) We know that Old English år “prefers the subjunctive” (Mitchell / Robinson 1964/1986: §174) and this seems to be a Middle English preference for a periphrastic subjunctive in the same syntactic context. The justification for this marking of ‘unreality’ would be that the time in the subordinate clause does not yet exist from the point-of-view of the earlier time in the main clause.8 A confirmation of the use of a subjunctive-like MAY after ere comes from the following: (17) So hid þai sines foul and rogh, Als stinkand cors es vnder throgh, Or þai may mene men sins sertaine Ðat beres þe saule to endles paine. (NHOM: III.135, Gotti & al. 2002: 126) The periphrastic subjunctive (or ‘subjunctive equivalent’ use) with MIGHT is found in similar contexts (except that the temporal collocation is past) to those for periphrastic subjunctive MAY: in subclauses after verbs of requesting, commanding, wishing, hoping, fearing and believing; also as a ‘hypothetical past’ in unreal conditional clauses, as well as in concessive, temporal and purpose clauses. The modal, however, may retain its ‘modal auxiliary meaning’ in all these environments. We find MIGHT in subclauses after past forms of verbs of petition, desire or emotion (and related nouns in a past context): (18) He […] prayed with-alle Þat a drope of calde water mught falle Til his tung (PRICK: 84, Gotti & al. 2002: 154) In the M3 corpus also MUST-variants have been found to be part of periphrastic present subjunctives clearly expressing desire or wish: 8 Cf. Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet I.2.iii.10-11: “Let two more summers wither in their pride / Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride”. Fischer (1992: 356) says that a subjunctive in a Middle English temporal clause can indicate uncertainty, a non-fact or a prospective event. 125 Mauricio Gotti (19) With wild thonder-dynt and firy levene / moote thy welke nekke be tobroke! (CTBATH 108.C2, Gotti & al. 2002: 168) M3 noun clauses containing SHOULD frequently convey reported speech acts concerning future actions or states (such as promises, requests, or predictions). In these cases SHOULD often has a bleached, generically subjunctive meaning. However, the modal can often be interpreted as retaining some of its semantic value in relation to harmonic elements in the context:9 (20) William bisshop of Hely demede þat monkes schulde be putte awey from Coventre (TREVISA: VIII.93, Gotti & al. 2002: 240) We also find SHOULD in subordinate clauses introduced by lest (possibly reinforced by such harmonic items as peradventure, for fear, dread), expressing feared outcomes to be guarded against by the action in the superordinate clause: (21) And þis I do for feerde lest þou schuldest conseyue bodily þat þat is mente goostly. (CLOUD: 121, Gotti & al. 2002: 261) The use of SHOULD in concessive clauses normally signals the remoteness of the hypothesis – again, this kind of usage could be described as periphrastic subjunctive: (22) þogh we suld never helle se, Ne for syn suld never punyst be, In purgatory ne in helle, Ne in þis werld whar we duelle, Yhit suld we luf God […] Right swa þe face of God alle-myghty, Sal be shewed in heven appertely, Tille alle þe men þat þider sal wende, þogh som suld duelle at þe ferrest ende. (PRICK: 248, Gotti & al. 2002: 261) 3. NEW MARKERS FOR THE TENSE SYSTEM 9 On this point Coates argues: “Where SHOULD functions as a pure quasi-subjunctive, it is semantically empty. But in many contexts, where the preceding adjective or verb is not incompatible with the sense of weak obligation expressed by Root SHOULD, we have merger […]. That is, it is not clear which of the two uses the speaker / writer intended, as both are possible […] [and] the two meanings are not mutually exclusive” (1983: 68). 126 The ME chaper on the ‘modal story’ 3.1. NEW MARKERS FOR THE FUTURE TENSE One of the main functions of SHALL and WILL in Present-day English is their use to indicate futurity. This usage started in the Old English period, although at that time the prevalent form for the expression of future actions was the present tense. However, also in that period SHALL and, less frequently, WILL were used to indicate futurity. These dynamic10 values were a development of the deontic ones that characterised their original full verbal meaning. Indeed, from the semantic point of view, Old English *sculan first evolved from the narrow scope of pecuniary obligation or indebtedness to wider moral obligation and command laid down by an external superior authority, including the interventions of nature, gods and fate. From this it was only a small step to reach the fully-fledged meaning of futurity, since commands necessarily have a future time reference. When it simply indicated futurity, shall frequently occurred either with the infinitive form of the following verb or with some other words in the sentence like weorþan, clarifying the futurity of the event. Consequently, the idea of futurity was established as an integral part of the semantic value of this auxiliary, although the verb also maintained its meaning of obligation and of the speaker’s certainty about the necessity or the actualization of the event. Similar meanings, but less defined, were expressed by willan,11 which mainly conveyed the deontic value of wish or intention,12 corresponding to the current verbs ‘to want’, ‘to wish’, as in the following quotation: 10 The distinction into deontic, epistemic and dynamic is mainly derived from Palmer (1986 / 2001). 11 In OE there were three different lexical verbs expressing ‘will’ or ‘desire’: wilnian, willian, and willan; the first two were regular weak verbs and are represented by the modern to will; the verb willan is the origin of the Modern English modal auxiliary. Although in Old English the three verbs could not be confused due to their different endings, their forms coalesced in the following centuries, on account of the loss of inflections which occurred in Late Old English and Middle English. 12 Mitchell (1985) also points out a second general use of willan, which the OED classes as “natural disposition to do something, and hence habitual action.” 127 Mauricio Gotti (23) he æt sumum cirre wolde fandian hu… [he at one time wanted to discover how…] (Traugott 1972: 69) In the rare non-deontic cases, willan was mainly employed to express the predictability value that we still find in ‘Oil will float on water’ and which is identified by Jespersen (1949) in terms of ‘power’, as testified to by the following example: (24) elpendes hyd wile drincan wætan. [elephant’s hide will drink wet = elephant’s hide will absorb water] (Traugott 1972: 69). Such cases occurred at first only when willan was employed with inanimate subjects, consequently with no hint at volition. Later, used with animate subjects, it is hard to determine “how far willan had gone along the road to simple futurity” (Mitchell 1985: 1/115), yet a number of occurrences testify to the strong undertones of dynamic futurity carried by Old English willan in a variety of contexts: (25) wen is, þæt hi us lifigende lungre wyllen sniome forsweolgan [expectation is that they us living quickly intend at-once swallow-up = it is likely that they will swallow us up at once] (Denison 1993: 299) Therefore, SHALL is more frequently found in commands, instructions and prophecies where a sense of obligation is present, while WILL occurs more commonly with first person pronoun subjects in contexts more closely connected with desire or willingness on the part of the speaker or writer such as promises, resolutions or wishes. At first this use of SHALL and WILL represented a sort of ‘double marking’ of futurity, in the sense that the expression of obligation and volition pragmatically implied the prediction of a future action. The original weak value of futurity gradually became stronger and stronger, also favoured by the absence of this tense marker in English, a gap which could lead to ambiguity and misinterpretation. The use of the present tense to express a future action continued in the Middle English 128 The ME chaper on the ‘modal story’ period but became less and less frequent in comparison to the great increase in the use of SHALL and (less frequently) WILL as a marker of this tense. SHALL was less and less commonly used to express deontic necessity; this loss was compensated for by an increase in the use of MUST to express the same pragmatic function. The increasing use of these verbs as markers of the future tense may have been favoured by the overlapping of the pragmatic functions expressed by them. As can be seen in the quotations below, they show cases of hypothetical phrases of the ‘If you will’ type; in such phrases, the overlapping of dynamic prediction and deontic volition present in these speech acts may have favoured the use of this modal auxiliary for the expression of prediction. (26) hif þu wylt, as þe book seiþ, adden goldene hemmys, certes, þenne þu hast a garnement wel iweue adoun to þi foot, in whiche þyn husbounde Crist wil haue gret lykyngge to fynde þe icloþed in. (AELR3: 34, Gotti & al. 2002: 297) (27) And hf þou wilte besily trauayle as I bid þee, I triste in his mercy þat þou schalt come þer-to. (CLOUD: 17, Gotti & al. 2002: 297) This overlapping of pragmatic functions is also visible in a few instances of SHALL, in which the predictive speech act takes on some deontic shades of meaning. The following quotation, for example, apart from predicting what the reader will find in the fifth part, may also prompt the interlocutor to refer to that section: (28) In whiche fifthe partie shalt thou fynden tables of equaciouns of houses after the latitude of Oxenforde; and tables of dignitees of planetes, and other notefull thinges, (ASTR 663: C2, Gotti & al. 2002: 227) The following quotation, instead, does not only convey a predictive value but also an epistemic meaning, as it involves a statement of the speaker’s attitude towards the truth of the proposition; indeed, the schal be mentioned could be paraphrased by the expression can/will be considered: 129 Mauricio Gotti (29) þerfore .4. þyngus þou schalt loke in an hors. & þat þei faile noΖt. ffurste þe schap of an hors þat þou schalt wite þat he be of good heythe to suche trauaile as þou nedest & þat he be þicke & wel I-growe to his heythe & strongliche I-made. longe sydes & fleyschful. & grete boddockes. & rounde. & brod brest bi-fore. & al þe bodi knette with wreþes of brawn. drie bon & hole þat schal his bodi bere & þat schal be a good hors. (HORSES: 85, Gotti & al. 2002: 227) In Middle English, SHALL remained definitely more frequent than WILL, especially in predictive contexts. Wycliffe, in his translation of the Vulgate, used SHALL regularly to translate the Latin future tense, while WILL was employed to gloss the Latin verb velle. In Late Middle English the idea of futurity inherent in SHALL strongly increased at the expense of the sense of obligation which was steadily weakened, up to Shakespeare’s time, when the two auxiliary verbs had almost reached the present pattern. By the end of the 15th century, the idea of futurity latent in the notion of volition became predominant in the use of WILL, with the result that this too came to be used as an auxiliary expressing futurity. From a quantitative point of view, our data, based on the comparison between the SHALL- and WILLforms in the M3 part of the Helsinki Corpus, confirms the higher frequency of the former, not only in absolute numbers (729 vs 128, cf. Table 2) but also in normalised figures, i.e. in the relative numbers of such forms compared to the total number of words of the texts analysed (40 vs 7 per 10,000 words). TEXT TYPE DOCUMENTS HANDBOOKS SCIENCE PHILOSOPHY HOMILIES SERMONS RULES RELIGIOUS TREATISES HISTORY TRAVELOGUES SHALL 12 [2] 36 [2] 1 18 [1] 36 [3] 38 [3] 25 [2] 321 [8] 57 [2] 10 [1] 130 WILL 4 [1] 19 [3] 9 [3] 14 [2] 2 7 [1] 54 [5] 3 3 [1] The ME chaper on the ‘modal story’ FICTION LETTERS BIBLE All texts 52 [2] 13 110 [6] 729 [31] 10 [2] 1 2 128 [18] Table 2 - Normalised occurrences of SHALL- and WILL- forms expressing prediction according to text type (figures in square brackets indicate indeterminate or ambiguous cases). As can be seen from Table 2, prediction (or ‘pure future’, as this category is often referred to in the literature) occurs in almost all the text types included in the corpus. For the expression of this pragmatic function SHALL is much more frequently used than WILL (the ratio is 5 to 1). However, this ratio is not uniform. In particular, in biblical texts the prevalent use of SHALL depends on the translator’s choice to use this modal auxiliary for the rendering of future verbal forms. As regards a possible correlation between medium and choice of modal verb, the data do not seem to confirm it. Indeed, comparing the data of Table 2, we can see that SHALL-forms occur below average not only in the main speech-based text types (i.e. homilies and sermons), but also in several non-speech-based ones, such as scientific texts, philosophical works, travelogues and correspondence. As regards WILLforms, their behaviour in speech-based text types is extremely inconsistent, ranging from a very high frequency in homilies to a very rare presence in sermons. SHALL is also the auxiliary typically expressing the prophetic function; indeed of the 81 cases of prophecy found in the corpus 80 include a SHALL-form, versus a single case of WILL. In the corpus taken into consideration there are various cases of alternation between SHALL and WILL in the same context; the analysis of these texts confirms the previous remarks, besides leading to further interpretations of their different uses. For example, in the following quotation, SHALL is used in the main clause, thus pointing to a preference of WILL for secondary clauses; indeed, in the same sentence there are two occurrences of WILL: the first in a qualifying relative clause (who-so wil loke Denis bookes), the second in 131 Mauricio Gotti the noun clause serving as the object of the main clause (þat his wordes wilen cleerly aferme). (30) And trewly, who-so wil loke Denis bookes, he schal fynde þat his wordes wilen cleerly aferme al þat I haue seyde (CLOUD: 125, Gotti & al. 2002: 297) The same explanation may apply to the following case, in which WILL occurs in the qualifying clause and SHALL in the main clause: (31) whoso wole have sapience shal no man dispreyse (CTMEL 220: C2, Gotti & al. 2002: 228) The following quotation, instead, confirms the preference for the use of WILL to express volition and of SHALL for the conveyance of the pragmatic function of prediction: (32) And of this matere seith Moyses by the devel in this manere: “The feend seith, ‘I wole chace and pursue the man by wikked suggestioun, and I wole hente hym by moevynge or stirynge of synne. And I wol departe my prise or my praye by deliberacioun, and my lust shall been acompliced in delit. […]’” (CTPARS 298: C1, Gotti & al. 2002: 227) In some cases, however, the reason for the alternation is less clearly deducible; for instance, in the following quotation the use of different modal auxiliaries in two co-ordinated main clauses may be attributed to stylistic reasons,13 i.e. in the willingness to avoid lexical repetition: (33) Whoso that dooth to thee oother good or harm, haste thee nat to quiten it, for in this wise thy freend wole abyde and thyn enemy shal the lenger lyve in drede. (CTMEL 220: C1, Gotti & al. 2002: 227) 3.2. NEW MARKERS FOR THE CONDITIONAL TENSE 13 Similar variations depending on stylistic reasons have been found also by other researchers; cf. for example, Ono (2002), who points out several examples of alternation in the use of SHALL and WILL in different manuscripts of Chaucer’s works. 132 The ME chaper on the ‘modal story’ Already in Old English the past forms of pre-modals were used in nonpast contexts with hypothetical and tentative meanings (Molencki 1999: 135136). This usage was particularly frequent with SHOULD and WOULD, commonly used to express remote possibility or predictive uses in narrative contexts taking place in the past, as can be seen in the following quotations: (34) Hu wolde þe nu licien gif… How would to-thee now please if … [How would it please you if …] (BO 41.142.2, Traugott 1992: 197) (35) Þa Darius geseah þæt he oferwunnen beon wolde, …, When Darius saw that he overcome be would, … [When Darius saw that he would be defeated, …] ( OR 3 9.128.5, Traugott 1992: 196) The latter example is indicative of how the predictive function still combines with a stronger meaning of modal necessity (‘would be overcome’). SHOULD and WOULD continued to be used in the Middle English period to report a prediction in a hypothetical/tentative way and to express present counterfactuals. From a semantic point of view, a distinction ought to be made between reported predictions and hypotheses; both are expressed by SHOULD/WOULD-forms and both convey future time reference, but the former generally occur in the context of narratives set in the past, as shown in the following quotations: (36) And herfore repreuede Crist ypocrisye of ordres, for he wiste wel þat þey schulden after do more harm in þe world. (WSERM: I.314, Gotti & al. 2002: 259) (37) me trowed þat þe kyng wolde nevere come ahen hom. (TREVISA: VIII.89, Gotti & al. 2002: 321) In the case of hypotheses, the possibility of the predication ever becoming factual depends on an action or factor expressed by means of a conditional clause. The following quotations exemplify two M3 cases: 133 Mauricio Gotti (38) And þerfore and I miht gete a wakyng and a besi beholdyng to þis goostly werk wiþ-inne in my soule, I wolde þan haue a rechelesnes in […] alle myn outward doynges. (CLOUD: 81, Gotti & al. 2002: 321) (39) If any childe of hir were þine I woulde holde hit as for mine. (CURSOR MUNDI 2601, Molencki 2000: 316) Several M3 occurrences express a predictable result or refer to the purpose of an action; in these cases an additional deontic meaning of volition may also be detected, introduced by superordinate nouns like entent: (40) For he kyde he & hys felawe wolde kepe the dores that day, to that entent that ther sholde non haue kome jn but only that wolde haue chose John Norhampton to be mair; (USK: 27, Gotti & al. 2002: 260) The hypothetical result may have been presented as an alternative to a different scenario, in which case the modal was introduced by else: (41) “Thanne ben thei none membres,” quod sche, “for elles it schulde seme that blisfulnesse were conjoyned al of o membre allone; […]” (BOETHCH: 433.C2, Gotti & al. 2002: 261) In the expression of past counterfactuality the Old English preterite subjunctive was commonly replaced by the pluperfect or by a modal periphrasis consisting of SHOULD or WOULD followed by a perfect infinitive. In counterfactual constructions the replacement of the preterite subjunctive by a periphrastic construction containing a (pre)modal had started taking place in Old English dialects, particularly in the North of England, where the subjunctive/indicative contrast was first lost (Molencki 2000: 3167). In Middle English it became more and more frequent to find cases in which the pluperfect in the apodosis was replaced by the combination of a bleached modal (most commonly WOULD, but sometimes SHOULD) and the perfect infinitive for the expression of the non-realization of an action (equivalent to Latin irrealis forms), as shown in the following examples: (42) nad it be for drede of our lord the kyng, I wot wel eueri man sholde haue be in others top (USK: 28, Gotti & al. 2002: 260) 134 The ME chaper on the ‘modal story’ (43) &, truly, had noght the aldermen kome to trete, […] they wolde haue go to a Newe eleccion, & in that hete haue slayn hym that wolde haue letted it, yf they had myght. (USK: 28-29, Gotti & al. 2002: 309) Moreover, SHOULD and WOULD did not only occur in the protasis, but also in the apodosis: (44) As hif a lond wolde bere good corn wiþowte tylyng an donghyng þerof, it were but ydel to traueyle þerfore, whonne it encressuþ not þe fruyt. (Wycliffe Sermons P I.588 a.1425, Molencki 2000: 321) There is a very strong tendency to preserve parallelism between the verbal forms of the apodosis and protasis. Indeed, when the SHOULD/WOULDperiphrasis occurs in the apodosis, it is often followed by the use of SHOULD/WOULD in the protasis: (45) & if þer schold be don mynyscoun of þe cardiaca, þere scholde be mad mor febelynge (PHLEB: 45, Gotti & al. 2002: 260) (46) & [=if] he wolde not a followed me, I wolde have retourned ageyn (Earl Rivers The Cordyal 79.12 c1479, Molencki 2000: 321) 4. DEVELOPMENT OF EPISTEMIC MEANINGS Right from the Old English period, proto-modals and pre-modals have been the most frequent conveyors of the concepts of permission, obligation, wish, will, and mental capability, which can be subsumed under the general labels of deontic and dynamic modality. In contrast, it is only in Middle English that the concepts of ‘probability’, ‘possibility’ and ‘certainty’ – currently subsumed under the term ‘epistemic modality’ – are fully conveyed by may/might and must and it is not until Early Modern English that such values are acquired by can/could, will/would and should. Epistemic values have been shown to have evolved from deontic or dynamic ones, through a process of subjectification by means of which some modal verbs have gradually moved from the propositional domain to the expressive one (cf. Traugott 1989, Sweetser 1990, Bybee / Pagliuca / Perkins 1994). Indeed, the modal verbs that 135 Mauricio Gotti nowadays express epistemic meanings seem to have originated with a deontic or dynamic function. Very few of the pre-modals had an epistemic function in Old English. However, some examples of this usage have been pointed out:14 (47) & to þam Pentecosten wæs gesewen […] blod weallan of eorþan. swa swa mænige sæden þe hit and at that Pentecost was seen […] blood to-well-up from earth. as as many said PT it geseon sceoldan see should [and at the Pentecost … blood was seen welling up from the ground, as many said who supposedly saw it] (Chron E (Plummer) 1100.4, Traugott 1992: 195) (48) Eastewerd hit [se mor] mæg bion syxtig mila brad oþþe hwene brædre Eastwards it [the moor] can be sixty of-miles broad or somewhat broader [Toward the east it may be sixty miles wide or a little wider] (Or 1 1.15.26, Fischer 2003: 23) The epistemic use of MAY particularly develops in Middle English, although it is still less common than the use to indicate dynamic possibility. As regards the meaning of ability, it was current until the 16th century; then the use of MAY to indicate dynamic possibility became prevalent, and the gap was filled by the use of CAN to indicate ability. The closeness between MAY expressing dynamic ability and the emerging similar function of CAN is shown by the occurrence of the two verbs in the formulaic phrase may or can often found in formal contexts lacking in any distinctive meaning between its elements: (49) in as meke wyse and lowely maner as any symple officers and pouuere lieges best may or can ymagine and diuise (LLET: 72, Gotti & al. 2002: 98) 14 For more examples, cf. Traugott (1989: 42) and Denison (1993: 298-302). 136 The ME chaper on the ‘modal story’ Here, in the context of ‘binomial phrases’ (meeke wyse and lowely maner, officers and lieges, imagine and deuise), the paired modal verbs form part of a politeness strategy via prolixity. The same features can be used to suggest a need to make careful legal distinctions: (50) Be it further enacted That [...] it shall and may be lawfull to and for the Gaugers [...] to turne any Cock or Cocks to try and examine whether such Pipe or other Conveyance may or can convey any Wash (STAT7: VIII.457, Gotti & al. 2002: 99) The semantic shift of MAY from objective to subjective possibility meanings is undoubtedly one of the most interesting episodes in the modal story. In our analysis we have found statistic confirmation of this evolution, with a decline of dynamic uses from 80% in M3 to 45% in E3, associated with the rise of other uses: epistemic, from 3% to 17%; deontic, from 3% to 13%; and periphrastic subjunctive uses from 8% to 17%. This semantic evolution is particularly evident in all those cases in which MAY combines with inanimate subjects and stative verbs to express epistemic necessity, as shown in the following examples: (51) Ðat may be ment on þis manere (NHOM: III.137, Gotti & al. 2002: 91) (52) Thow seyst we wyves wol oure vices hide / Til we be fast, and thanne we wol hem shewe / Wel may that be a proverbe of a shrewe! (CTBATH: 108.C2, Gotti & al. 2002: 102) [That has to be the proverb of a wicked man!] As dynamic possibility MAY evolved into epistemic possibility MAY, many examples are ‘mergers’ (Coates 1983), ambiguous to both interlocutor and linguistic observer (indeed, it is this ambiguity that allowed the evolution). For Nuyts (2001: 181-2) this would be because the epistemic meaning began as an invited inference from a dynamic meaning. Visser (1963-73: 1756) sees the matter more in terms of strict observer ‘ambiguity’ (ideally distinguishable, though often not so) when he says: “Since this shift in meaning [from objective to subjective possibility] is not formally expressed, the correct 137 Mauricio Gotti interpretation of quite a number [i.e. a substantial number] of the later quotations is problematic, and the placing of them in this section [1654, objective possibility] instead of in section 1663 [subjective possibility] is purely arbitrary”. In our analysis too, where the meaning seemed ‘merged’ or so ambiguous as to make a clear assignment ‘purely arbitrary’, we have preferred to assign the example to a small mixed dynamic/epistemic category.15 Here are a couple of typical examples: (53) whanne scripture speketh oonly bi counceil, men moun be sauid, thouh thei do not the counceil (WYCPROL: I.56, Gotti & al. 2002: 114) [it is possible for men to be saved though they do not follow the advice / it is possible that men will be saved though they do not follow the advice] (54) A sharp wit may find something in the wisest man whereby to expose him to the contempt of injudicious people (TILLOTS: II.ii 428, Gotti & al. 2002: 114) [it is possible for a sharp wit to find something / it is possible that a sharp wit will find something] Verbs like happen (befall, fall, chance) focus attention on the uncertain reality of events. Though such ‘eventualities’ can be presented as objectively as possible, they are inevitably open to interpretation as having the possibility of happening according to the speaker. The evolution can be seen in the way MAY + hap and MAY + be come to have an adverbial meaning of ‘perhaps’ (with the first OED quotation for the former dated at 1300); even the word (h)appen itself is used adverbially in modern Northern dialects to mean ‘perhaps’. We should not be surprised, therefore, to find these verbs associated with epistemic MAY, as in the following example: (55) þa er veniel synnes þat may falle, Bathe grete and smale (PRICK: 87, Gotti & al. 2002: 108) 15 Equivalent to Kytö’s ‘indeterminate’ possibility category (1987: 150). Ambiguity may well be normal in this area of modality: Nuyts (2001: 189) finds over 70% of his Dutch and German epistemic examples of kunnen and können are ambiguously dynamic / epistemic. 138 The ME chaper on the ‘modal story’ It is possible that the evolution of epistemic MAY was aided by accompanying adverbs that originally meant the top point on a scale or a high point on it (amplifiers) but then lost their ‘impact’ over time. One of the most common adverbs associated with this modal in M3 is well (in 19 examples, 5 of them with epistemic MAY), which functions originally as an amplifier but then is “used to denote the possibility or the likelihood of an occurence or fact” (OED, WELL 9b, with citations from c1400). Here are some examples with epistemic MAY: (56) it [concupiscence] may wel wexe fieble and faille by vertu of baptesme and by the grace of God thurgh penitence, but fully ne shal it nevere quenche (CTPARS: 297.C2, Gotti & al. 2002: 112) (57) But lat us graunten, I pose, that som man may wel demen or knowen the good folk and the badde (BOETHCH: 452.C2, Gotti & al. 2002: 112) Other M3 adverbials that accompany and reinforce an epistemic modal are: in maner (‘to some extent’), by som cause (‘for some reason’), lihtli (‘probably’), perauenture (‘perhaps’). MIGHT seems to have had a longer association with epistemic meanings than MAY: its use with an (originally) implied conditional clause, with various meanings (including counterfactual dynamic and counterfactual epistemic), dates from the Old English period, before the year 1000 (Visser 1963-73 §1672, 1673; OED: MAY 6b, 6c). In contrast, the earliest occurrences of epistemic MAY go back no further than 1200 (1205 for both Visser and the OED). In addition, final clauses in Old English can refer to actual result or an eventuality (which will tend to be subjectively-viewed) and MIGHT lends itself to use as a metaphorically remote reference to indicate the latter. In our corpus, epistemic MIGHT is slightly more frequent than epistemic MAY: 6% of cases in M3, compared with 3% for MAY; 25% in E3, against 17% for MAY. Epistemic uses may have spread especially where MIGHT has a nonnarrative-past meaning, since, in most cases, any original objective possibility can easily be reinterpreted as subjective if the possibility is imaginary (the step 139 Mauricio Gotti from an imaginary objective possibility to an imaginary subjective possibility is a short one, since the foregrounding of imagination suggests a subjective view). The naturalness of an epistemic interpretation of fugitive eventualities has already been noted above for MAY. In the M3 sub-corpus, also epistemic MIGHT is followed by a verb like happen, always in a non-past context where the hypothetical meaning further encourages a subjective interpretation: (58) grete meschiefs that mighten by swiche wrongful cleymes: falle and turne to gret preiudice to the kyng (PET3: 24, Gotti & al. 2002: 146) (59) But Crist denyeþ þis to hem for harm þat myhte come (WSERM: I.375, Gotti & al. 2002: 146) (60) we wile þat [...] þe maystres to non of hem, as it mihte falle in cas for mede or be senguler profit, falle in affinite (RET: 57, Gotti & al. 2002: 146) Perhaps MIGHT came with a built-in epistemic appropriateness in nonpast contexts, so did not require the support of an adverbial as much as MAY did. In the following example, the epistemic adverb possibly in the first part of the sentence apparently does not need to be repeated in the parallel second part with MIGHT: (61) It would but give us a fear of him, and possibly compel us to treat him so as I should be very loth to behold: that is, it might occasion his confinement (BEHN: 193, Gotti & al. 2002: 148) In the corpus we have analysed there is only one example which could be interpreted as expressing epistemic possibility. This hypothesis is supported by Skeat’s transposition in Modern English (1952: 172), which goes: ‘Or else he may be telling what’s untrue’. It occurs in Chaucer’s fiction: (62) Or ellis he moot telle his tale untrewe, Or feyne thyng, or fynde wordes newe. (CTPROL 35.C1, Gotti & al. 2002: 148) 140 The ME chaper on the ‘modal story’ Also the epistemic use of MUST emerges in Middle English, especially to express speaker’s/writer’s inference or logical conclusion.16 For example, unambiguous examples of epistemic MUST are quite frequent in Chaucer’s Boethius. They follow the logic of the deductive reasoning of philosophical discourse. This is clearly shown by the constant combination with needs, and the frequent presence of the adverb then and of coordinating conjunctions such as so, for and the like. The use of epistemic MUST in generic sentences combined with needs played a key role in its semanticization.17 Here follow some instances with neutral it, where the modal collocates always with the verb be and the adverb satellite by which the encoder strengthens his own assertion: (63) Thanne moot it nedis be that verray blisfulnesse is set in sovereyn God. (BOETHCH 432.C1, Gotti & al. 2002: 181) (64) the whiche destynal causes, whan thei passen out fro the bygynnynges of the unmoevable purveaunce, it moot nedes be that thei ne be nat mutable. (BOETHCH 452.C1, Gotti & al. 2002: 182) The following is an example introduced by existential there: (65) And herof cometh it that in every thing general, yif that men seen any thing that is imparfit, certes in thilke general ther moot ben som thing that is parfit. (BOETHCH 431.C2, Gotti & al. 2002: 182) 16 This point requires some discussion. The OED does not attest instances of epistemic MUST earlier than 1652. However, Visser argues that the notion ‘inferred or presumed probability that borders on certainty’ is to be taken in a wider sense than is done in OED. Starting from the following example ‘That must be the Prince’ (I conclude or infer from his behaviour (manner of speaking, etc.) that this is the Prince’, he shows that “this illative must has been of frequent use from the last part of the fourteenth century’ and points out that ‘a noteworthy fact is the preponderance of the colligation of must with the verb to be.’ (Visser 1963-73 §1708: 1810) 17 “If a speaker explicitly states that some event is necessarily obliged or compelled to occur in the future, especially if the source is God’s authority, law, spiritual awareness or logic, the inference is readily invited that the state of affairs represented in the proposition not only will be true in the future but is virtually present” (Traugott / Dasher 2002: 128) 141 Mauricio Gotti Even if to a lesser extent, instances with animate subjects also convey epistemic meanings: (66) For yf that schrewednesse makith wrecches, than mot he nedes ben moost wrecchide that lengest is a schrewe. (BOETHCH 447.C1, Gotti & al. 2002: 182) (67) he þat fayluþ to helpe oon, mut nedys fayle ahenys hem alle. (WSERM 11 I: 522, Gotti & al. 2002: 183) The following is the only instance found in Chaucer’s fiction: (68) So buxom and so vertuous is she, / They moste nedes lyve in unitee. (CTMERCH 155.C1, Gotti & al. 2002: 183) In M3 COULD has been found to express only dynamic modality, while epistemic and deontic values start to emerge in E3. As regards SHOULD, in very few M3 cases has a SHOULD-form been found to express a reasonable conclusion deriving from previous predications; in one instance the subjectivity of the remark is emphasized by a content-oriented booster such as certes: (69) for certes somthing possessyng in itself parfyt good schulde be more worthy than God, and it scholde semen that thilke thing were first and eldere than God. (BOETHCH: 432.C1, Gotti & al. 2002: 264) [if something possessed perfect good, people would infer that it is more worthy than God and that it seems to precede God] Instances in which WOULD-forms have been found to express the encoder’s deductions concerning a counterfactual predication are more numerous in the E3 section of the corpus. In M3 texts the subjectivity of the point of view is frequently strengthened by the co-occurrence of an epistemic adverb like certes: (70) For certes, sire, oure Lord Jhesu Crist wolde nevere have descended to be born of a womman, if alle wommen hadden been wikke. [And] if that wommen were nat goode, and hir conseils goode and profitable, oure Lord 142 The ME chaper on the ‘modal story’ God of hevene wolde nevere han wroght hem, ne called hem help of man, but rather confusioun of man. (CTMEL: 221.C2, Gotti & al. 2002: 323) (71) For certes, if ther ne hadde be no synne in clothyng, Crist wolde nat so soone have noted and spoken of the clothyng of thilke riche man in the gospel. (CTPARS: 300.C2, Gotti & al. 2002: 324) The following M3 occurrence was found to express the encoder’s subjective perception of a possible event: (72) wher anoþer man wolde bid þee gader þi mihtes & þi wittes holiche wiþinne þi-self, […]hit for feerde of disseite & bodely conceyuyng of his wordes, me list not byd þee do so (CLOUD: 121, Gotti & al. 2002: 323) [while it is possible that another man could bid thee gather thy strength and thy wits within thyself […] yet, fearing deceipt and an earthly understanding of his words, I wouldn’t bid thee do so.] Only one case of epistemic WILL has been found in the M3 subsection of our corpus; it expresses a deduction made by the locutor: (73) Scabbe wol brede in þe necke. […] & þat wol come of superfluyte of blod. or of oþer wicked humourr. (HORSES: 103, Gotti & al. 2002: 293) 5. CONCLUSION The Middle English period was a period of great morpho-syntactic changes (Fischer 1992, Lass 1992). As has been seen, great innovations took place also in the meanings and uses of the category of pre-modal verbs. However, these changes were not accidental or unrelated; they were gradual and related to one another. As this paper has shown, the process analysed is a dynamic one, which can only be interpreted in a diachronic perspective. Indeed, very often adjustments and modifications took place to fill gaps existing in the system. This can be seen, for example, in the development of the uses of CAN to denote dynamic ability. The rise of the epistemic use of MAY, particularly in Middle English, and its increase to indicate dynamic 143 Mauricio Gotti possibility, determined a loss for the expression of the meaning of ability, with the result that this gap was filled by the use of CAN to indicate ability. The closeness between MAY expressing dynamic ability and the emerging similar function of CAN favoured this shift. The great changes analysed (e.g,. the expression of the subjunctive mood or the future tense) have often been shown to have started in the form of double marking. For example, at first SHALL and WILL represented a sort of ‘double marking’ of futurity, in the sense that the expression of obligation and volition pragmatically implied the prediction of a future action. The original weak value of futurity gradually became stronger and stronger, also favoured by the absence of this tense marker in English, a gap which could lead to ambiguity and misinterpretation. As has been seen, there was no sudden change and the old forms usually coexisted with the new ones for a long period of transition (e.g. the full-lexical usage and the auxiliary usage of these verbs) giving rise to frequent cases of overlapping of an old form with the modal one. A clear example has been noticed in the evolution of dynamic possibility MAY into epistemic possibility MAY, as many of the instances found in the corpus analysed are ‘mergers’, ambiguous to both interlocutor and linguistic observer. It can safely be deduced that, indeed, it is this ambiguity which allowed the evolution of the process. The data found in the corpus thus enable us to conclude that in the Middle English period all central modals have made considerable progress in their evolution from full predicates to auxiliary predicates, many of them becoming predicate operators for tenses such as the future and the conditional, or for moods such as the subjunctive. The progress followed thus confirms the one pointed out in Functional Grammar terms by Goossens (1987: 118) in this scale: Full predicates > predicate formation > predicate operators 144 The ME chaper on the ‘modal story’ However, it is important to point out that this evolutionary process cannot be explained in mere syntactic terms, but requires semantic and pragmatic interpretations. Moreover, the picture we obtain from our analysis of the corpus clearly indicates that modal forms do not seem to have developed in strict synchronicity. Although the grammaticalisation trend is similar for all of them, the evolutionary process of each central modal takes place in different stages and in different periods. This process, however, is a global one, in the sense that the changes of each central modal verb often depend on – and give rise to – the changes of the others. Maurizio Gotti Università di Bergamo REFERENCES Aitchison, Jean 1980: Review of Principles of Diachronic Syntax by D. 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Kytö, Merja 1996: Manual to the Diachronic Part of the Helsinki Corpus of English Texts. Helsinki: Department of English, University of Helsinki. Lass, Roger 1992: Phonology and Morphology. In Blake (ed.), 23-155. Lightfoot, David 1974: The Diachronic Analysis of English Modals. In Anderson, John / Jones, Charles (eds) Historical Linguistics. Vol. I: Syntax, Morphology, Internal and Comparative Reconstruction. Amsterdam: North-Holland, 219-249. Lightfoot, David 1979: Principles of Diachronic Syntax. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mitchell, Bruce 1985: Old English Syntax, 2 vols, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Mitchell, Bruce / Robinson, Fred C. 1964/1986: A Guide to Old English, Oxford: Blackwell. Molencki, Rafał 1999: A History of English Counterfactuals. Katowice: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Śląskiego. 147 Mauricio Gotti Molencki, Rafał 2000: Parallelism vs. Asymmetry: The Case of English Counterfactual Conditionals. In Fischer, Olga / Rosenback, Anette / Stein, Dieter (eds) Pathways of Change: Grammaticalization in English. Amsterdam: Benjamins, 311-328. Mustanoja, Tauno 1960: A Middle English Syntax. Helsinki: Société Néophilologique. Nagle, Stephen J. 1993: Double Modals in Early English. In Aertsen, Henk / Jeffers, Robert J. (eds.) Historical Linguistics 1989. Amsterdam / Philadelphia: Benjamins, 363-370. Nagle, Stephen J. 1994: The English Double Modal Conspiracy. Diachronica 11/2, 199-212. Nagle, Stephen J. 1995: The English Double Modals: Internal or External Change?. In Fisiak, Jacek (ed.) Linguistic Change under Contact Conditions. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter, 207-215. Nagle, Stephen J. 1997: What is Double about Double Modals? In Hickey, Raymond / Puppel, Stanislaw (eds.) Language History and Linguistic Modelling. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter, 1513-1526. Nuyts, Jan 2001: Epistemic Modality, Language, and Conceptualization. A Cognitive-Pragmatic Perspective. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Ono, Shigeru 2002: Chaucer’s Syntactic Variants and What they Tell us. In Fisiak, Jacek (ed.) Studies in English Historical Linguistics and Philology. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 405-417. Palmer, Frank 11986, 22001: Mood and Modality. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Plank, Frans 1984: The Modals Story Retold. Studies on Language 8/3, 305364. Skeat, Walter W. (ed.) 1906 /1952: The Complete Works of Geoffrey Chaucer. Oxford: Clarendon Press. 148 The ME chaper on the ‘modal story’ Strang, Barbara 1970: A History of the English Language. London: Methuen. Sweetser, Eve 1990: From Etymology to Pragmatics. Metaphorical and Cultural Aspects of Semantic Change. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Traugott, Elizabeth Closs 1972: A History of English Syntax A Transformational Approach to the History of English Sentence Structure. New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston. Traugott, Elizabeth Closs 1989: On the Rise of Epistemic Meanings in English: An Example of Subjectification in Semantic Change. Language 65: 31-55. Traugott, Elizabeth Closs 1992: Syntax. In Hogg, Richard (ed.) The Cambridge History of the English Language, vol. 1: The Beginnings to 1066, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 168-289. Traugott, Elizabeth Closs / Dasher, Richard B. 2002: Regularity in Semantic Change. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Visser, Frederick 1963-1973: An Historical Syntax of the English Language. 3 Vols. Leiden: Brill. Warner, Anthony 1993: English Auxiliaries. Structures and History. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. *†* 149 LEXICAL DIALECTAL ITEMS IN CURSOR MUNDI: CONTEXTS OF OCCURRENCE AND GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION1 Abstract The analysis of the dialectal lexicon of Cursor Mundi shows in this paper the current research in ME word geography. The existence of several manuscripts of this work, which were copied in dialect areas different from the original one, makes it viable to establish the bases for historical lexical dialectal study. However, to be able to determine whether or not certain terms were used in a restricted regional scope, in a particular time-span I follow an approach combining the detailed study of the vocabulary of a particular work together with the analysis of the cumulative evidence from other sources. Furthermore, I show that word geography have some practical applications which might help to carry out a deeper analysis in the textual history of Cursor Mundi. Keywords. Medieval English Dialectology, diatopic methodology, Cursor Mundi. Resumen El análisis del léxico dialectal de Cursor Mundi muestra en este artículo el estado de la investigación sobre geografía del léxico del Inglés Medio. La existencia de varios manuscritos de la obra, copiados en áreas dialectales diferentes a la del texto original, posibilita, en cierta medida, el estudio histórico del léxico dialectal. Sin embargo, para determinar si ciertos términos se usaron en un área restringida, en un espacio de tiempo concreto, es necesario llevar a cabo una aproximación que combine el estudio del vocabulario en cada obra en particular junto al análisis de la evidencia acumulativa de otras fuentes. Así mismo, el artículo muestra que el estudio de la geografía del léxico del Inglés Medio tiene aplicaciones prácticas que posibilitan un análisis en profundidad de la historia textual de Cursor Mundi. Palabras clave: dialectología inglesa medieval, metodología diatópica, Cursor Mundi. 1. INTRODUCTION: WORD GEOGRAPHY AND CURSOR MUNDI Studies in the dialectal lexicon in Middle English are scarce. Rolf Kaiser’s Zur Geographie des mittelenglischen Wortschatzes (1937) is one of the few works published, so far, on the lexical dialectal material of individual Middle English 1 The present paper is part of an ongoing research project Edurne Garrido Anes and I are carrying out on the geographical distribution of lexical items regarded as dialectal. The analysis presented here has been carried out thanks to the funding granted for a research visit to the Institute of Historical Dialectology at the University of Edinburgh (May-August 2006) by the Ministerio de Educación y Ciencia (Ayudas para la Movilidad del Profesorado Universitario). I am grateful to Margaret Laing and Keith Williamson for their close readings of this paper and their suggestions. María José Carrillo, Selim 13 (2005-2006): 149—179 María José Carrillo works.2 In this work, Kaiser listed around 500 words occurring in Cursor Mundi which he thought to have had a dialectal nature and which were, according to him, mainly northern words. Given the shortage of results in the investigation on lexical dialectal material, this list is an invaluable tool in the field. Nevertheless, his work does not reflect the possible distributions of the lexical items, since it is mainly based on the comparative analysis of the existing copies of Cursor Mundi, which cannot provide a full picture given the small number of dialects represented in the copies. A more thorough study is required to gain this objective. For some years now, my colleague Edurne Garrido Anes and I have been researching Middle English word geography. The methodology we have devised for the study of dialectal lexicon in Middle English, combines a detailed study of the vocabulary of a particular work together with the analysis of the cumulative evidence from other manuscript sources for each dialectal term.3 The reconstruction of the dialect areas where particular words were commonly used can only be achieved by putting together as much evidence as possible, and extracting it from as many different sources as we can collect. In principle, Cursor Mundi should offer a good opportunity for the study of dialectal lexicon. The existence of several manuscripts, which were copied in dialect areas different from the original one, makes it viable to establish, as Kaiser did, the bases for historical lexical dialectal study, that is to say, it is possible to establish whether or not certain terms were used in a restricted regional scope, in a particular time-span. However, the alterations and substitutions of the original vocabulary in Cursor Mundi, or of the vocabulary in any other work, may be caused by factors different from the diatopic 2 Other works that focus on the analysis of the dialectal vocabulary of individual texts are: McIntosh (1972), Hudson (1983), Black (1998), Horobin (2001) and Carrillo Linares & Garrido Anes (2007 and forthcoming, 2008). 3 For further information about the methodology and applications for the study of Middle English Word geography see Carrillo Linares & Garrido Anes (2007 and forthcoming, 2008). 152 Lexical dialectal items in Cursor Mundi variation.4 Additionally, very often the rhyming structure of a text makes dialectal substitutions difficult for a scribe. Furthermore, in this particular case, all the most southerly copies of the work derive from a common exemplar, which, as I show further on, affects the lexicon in relation to the localization of the existing copies. Analysing a single work, even if there are a good number of extant manuscripts, has many limitations. Kaiser never intended to establish the distribution of the lexical items he listed, but even so, in order to provide independent triangulation for lexical localizations, the analysis of more than just one work is required. To Kaiser’s list, there could be added some other lexical items, which also occur in Cursor Mundi, but were replaced by lexical equivalents in the southern version only occasionally. Nonetheless, our previous study reveals that the distributions of these items seem to be also restricted to certain areas.5 I try to demonstrate that these words are also dialectal and that the analysis of the copies of a single work can lead to conclusions which are not entirely accurate. Furthermore, I show that word geography may have some practical applications which might help to carry out a deeper analysis in the textual history of Cursor Mundi. 2. CURSOR MUNDI AND ITS SURVIVING MANUSCRIPT COPIES Cursor Mundi is an originally northern poem, composed sometime after 1325, which survives in several more or less complete forms and in various fragments. J. Thomson (1998) considers that there are nine extant manuscripts of the work and several other copies including short fragments inserted in other works related to Cursor Mundi in some way.6 Regarding the 4 Other causes of possible variation are the changes introduced in the texts as a consequence of the manuscript transmission itself, the purely individual scribal preferences, or the time factor. 5 See Carrillo Linares & Garrido Anes (2007 and forthcoming, 2008). 6 Hupè (1893) includes as copies of the Cursor Mundi, the fragments found in Cambridge, University Library, G.g 4.27 (2) and in London, BL, Additional 10036. Thomson (1998) points out that there are other texts related to Cursor Mundi such as: The Extract of the Book of Penance in London, BL, Cotton Galba E. IX, Oxford, Bodleian Library, Rawlinson poet. 175, and Wellesley Massachusetts, Wellesley College Library, MS 8, 153 María José Carrillo vocabulary of the work, the northern manuscripts of the poem retain most of Kaiser’s northern dialectal words.7 The non-northern versions, however, may show lexical variants for those terms that were presumably alien in the dialects of the copying scribes. There are three different groups of non-northern versions of the poem. (1) The family represented by the copy found in Oxford, Bodleian Library, Fairfax 14, copied in Lancashire. (2) That represented by folios 2r to 75r of Göttingen, University Library, Theo. 107, a linguistically composite text which was copied by one scribe from two different sources, one of them non-northern, and which shows features from South Lincolnshire. (3) The family that groups Cambridge, Trinity College, R.3.8 (henceforth T) and London, College of Arms, Arundel 57 (henceforth H), both of them associated with the Lichfield area in Staffordshire, and both copied after the turn of the fifteenth century; London, British Library, Additional 36983 (henceforth B) associated with Bedfordshire, and Oxford, Bodleian Library, Laud 416 (henceforth L), certainly non-northern, but whose dialect has not been yet analysed in depth. L is dated on f. 226v, where it reads: ‘Scriptus Rhodo per Johannem Newton die 25 octobris 1459.’ B is datable c. 1450. The analysis of some folios from the beginning of the work in L shows a highly standardized language, with only a few forms that are more restricted, or whose occurrences have not been recorded in many places with any frequency in A Linguistic Atlas of Late Medieval English (LALME). Nevertheless, the occurrences of the forms for the pronouns THEY, THEM and THEIR as ‘they’, ‘hem’ and ‘hir’ together with the forms found for the item IT, i.e. ‘yt’, ‘((it))’, ‘((hyt))’, and those for the 3rd person present indicative: ‘-yth’, ‘-yþ’, ‘-iþ’, ‘-ith’, ‘-eth’, seems to point towards the Midlands. also the texts found in Oxford, Bodleian Library, Additional A. 106 and Hopton Hall MS. In addition, Mooney (2003) states that there is also a fragment of Cursor Mundi in the Sutherland Collection (313/3633) on deposit in the National Library of Scotland. 7 The entirely northern copies are found in the manuscripts preserved in Edinburgh, Royal College of Physicians, ff. 37r-50v, 1r-15v London, BL, Cotton Vespasian A iii, ff. 2r-163r (henceforth C), Göttingen, University Library, Theo. 107, ff. 75r-169v, and London, BL, Additional 31042, ff. 3r-32v. 154 Lexical dialectal items in Cursor Mundi The palatalized initial in the forms for the item GIVE, i.e. ‘yaf’ (pret), ‘yeve’ (inf), also seem to restrict the area further, eliminating the most northern counties in the Midlands. The spellings for EACH ‘eche’, ANY ‘eny’, MUCH ‘muche’, ARE ‘ar’, ‘are’, ‘arn’, AGAINST ‘a-yen’, BEFORE ‘to-fore’ together with other spellings not recorded in the LALME sources such as ‘buysy’ for BUSY, when included in the fitting, seem to point toward Staffordshire as the possible area of provenance of the Laud MS, but still further analysis of different parts of the text is needed to attempt a more precise and accurate localization. All non-northern versions of this group were copied in the 15th century, but L and B are later copies. Thus, the language of L can easily fall into what M. Samuels (1981: 44) has called ‘a colourless regional writing’ as a consequence of the incipient standardization, so that ‘the dialectal traits that survive amount to only a small inventory of non-standard forms which even taken in combination, might belong to a number of widely separated districts.’ Previous studies show that none of the extant manuscripts of the last group, the one with which I am concerned in this paper, are in direct filial relationship with any other southern copy of the poem, but apparently they all have a common source.8 The dialect of the original source for all these copies is unknown, although Horrall (1986: 105) suggests that it could have been ‘made at Lichfield for the market in the south of England.’ Her claim is not based on any linguistic grounds, only on the supposition that it was written there because Lichfield was a centre for the translation and dissemination of northern texts for readers in the southern part of the country. It is indeed true that two of the extant manuscripts deriving from that version are localized there, and that a third one, as I have pointed out before, could belong into Staffordshire as well. The remaining copy is, however, localized in 8 Horrall (1978) argues that “HTLB clearly formed a closely related group” but “the relationships among the manuscripts of this group are not so obvious” T and H seem to derive from a common exemplar, and B and L from another, but they are all ultimately dependent of a common ancestor in which the scribe “consulted two manuscripts while preparing his translation” (Eldredge & Klinck 2000: 44-50). 155 María José Carrillo Bedfordshire. The consistency in the vocabulary in the different southern manuscripts suggests that most of the lexical changes were made by the original translator of the southern version and not by those of the extant copies. Therefore, the vocabulary is not that likely to have been selected when copying from a northern original - in the areas where these manuscripts can be localized. These words, nevertheless, when changed for an alternative one, show their restricted use in the area of production of the original southern version. A detailed study of the vocabulary in the different extant texts could help to identify the place of provenance of this version. This is possible because, once the text was translated into a more southern dialect, the scribes for the subsequent copies were not likely to go back from replacement words to the words in the original northern version. 3. SOME DIALECTAL LEXICAL ITEMS IN CURSOR MUNDI The analysis of the distributions of some words which were not expected to have been translated in some areas could narrow down the localization of this southern original version of Cursor Mundi. This can be done by comparing the lexical material in the different manuscripts of this work with other material currently being analysed by M. J. Carrillo Linares and E. Garrido Anes, and whose distribution is being mapped. I have chosen three words not listed by Kaiser in order to illustrate two things: Firstly, that these words are also dialectal, and secondly, that the place of origin of this nonnorthern version could be, if not established, at least delimited further, on linguistic grounds. 3.1 MISTER: CONTEXTS OF OCCURRENCES IN DISTRIBUTION. 156 CURSOR MUNDI AND DIALECTAL Lexical dialectal items in Cursor Mundi The first word to be examined is MISTER.9 The meaning of the word in the context I am considering is that of ‘need or necessity’. There are 25 occurrences of this item in the lines of the northern versions of the poem comparable with parallel lines in the southern versions. As the poem is mainly written in rhyming couplets, 14 of these occurrences appear in line-final rhyming position. The rest of the occurrences lie in the middle of the line. Very frequently, the position of a lexical item within the text is significant when a scribe is copying it into his own dialect. The scribes had three possible strategies: 1.- They may leave the word as it is in their exemplar in order not to spoil the rhyme, if the word occurs in rhyming position. In any other position, they may also decide to retain it. 2.- They may rearrange the contents of the line so that the lexical equivalent can be put in non-rhyming position and then select a different rhyming word. 3.- They may choose to substitute the alien lexical item by a lexical equivalent. If this happens at the end of a line, it may imply a change in the rhyming word as well as the alien term. In any other position there may be no further requirements to keep the line structure. The motivations for leaving an item unaltered can be various. On the one hand, the reasons could be of a linguistic nature, since there might be metrical and/or semantic difficulties in finding an adequate substitute. On the other hand, the scribal behaviour might be psychologically motivated. The scribes’ attitudes towards their copy-texts can be different at different moments in the copying process. In a work like Cursor Mundi that takes up over 24,000 lines, the scribes might have changed their attitudes multiple times, or even without 9 According to OED the word comes from AN mester, mesteer, mestier, mestre, meister, mister, mistier, mystre, maestere, maistier and OF mester, mestier, mistier, maistier (MF mestier, F métier (1740)) need, necessity (c1140) < post-classical Latin misterium. According to Wright (1903: vol. IV) the word was dialectal and the sources in which he recorded it were mainly Scottish or from Northern England. 157 María José Carrillo changing it consciously, they might have been less focused on their own output at certain moments. MISTER in Cursor Mundi occurs in the northern texts both in the middle and at the end of the line. In the first five instances of the word, which occur between lines 803 and 3247,10 the position of the word is always final. In all the southern texts, the item is avoided in all instances in these lines. The word is not automatically replaced by a lexical equivalent, and the lines in the couplet suffer contents reorganization. The translator’s objective in these lines seems to be to produce a comprehensible poem for English speakers of nonnorthern areas. This objective loosens somehow as the copying process moves on, and he seems to relax slightly, especially when matters of metrics are involved. From line 3000 onwards, there are ten occurrences at the end of the line and nine of them are retained in all the southern copies.11 Only in one instance, in line 5144, are the contents of the lines reorganized and the word is replaced.12 A deeper analysis of the lexical choices in the different parts of the work would be required to determine whether this original southern version was in fact the product of more than one scribe; this would be another 10 It occurs in ll. 803, 1526, 1680, 2554, and 3247. E.g. þai cled þam þan in þat mister (l. 803) Wit leues brad bath o figer (C) þei hiled hem I telle hit þe With leues of a fige tre (T) þei hullud hem I telle hit þe With leues of a fige tre (H) 11 See ll. 3247, 4469, 5560, 10134, 11840, 14035, 18904 and 20124. 12 þou lighes now, eber pantener! Ne er þai noght o þat mister. 5144 (C) þou lyest he seide bi god so dere Ar þei no knyȝtis ny knyȝtis fere 5144 (T) þou lyest he seide bi god so dere Ar þei no knyȝtis ny knyȝtis fere 5144 (H) 158 Lexical dialectal items in Cursor Mundi possible cause for the changes in choice of translating strategy as the work moves on. In initial position, it occurs once in line 8589, and it is retained in all southern texts (eg. H: Mister wymmen were þer twynne) but B, where the corresponding reading is ‘comon’. This could be a misreading by the Bedfordshire scribe, or simply a conscious replacement, the term being alien for him. Moreover, the Bedford manuscript differs in a good number of readings from the other three manuscripts. In mid-position MISTER occurs six times from lines 4718 to 16277.13 In that context the word in the southern texts is always substituted by a lexical equivalent, not altering, in most of the cases, the wording or structure of the line or couplet. Finally, it occurs in mid-position in lines 19042 and 24810, and in these instances, the word is also retained in all the southern texts. Therefore, it seems that the linguistic environment conditions the substitutions, but apparently there could be also a psychological component in the process. Nevertheless, the fact that the item needs to be replaced in whatever context is, by itself, very revealing, and it suggests that the word was not common in the dialect of the original scribe(s) of the southern version. As the occurrences and avoidances of an item in any particular work can be conditioned by their textual histories as well, it is essential to compare the data extracted from one work with evidence from other sources. For the period between 1360 and 1460,14 MISTER is a well-attested word occurring in manuscripts of more than 30 works according to the sources for the MED. The distribution of the occurrences and avoidances in the manuscripts for the 13 See ll. 4718, 5281, 13141, 13468, 15661, 16277. 14 I have chosen this time-span because it covers the time from the possible date of composition of the original southern version of Cursor Mundi up to the actual date of composition of the latest extant manuscript of this version. 159 María José Carrillo works we have analysed so far are shown on map 1.15 According to the distribution on this map, it seems that the word occurs very frequently in texts with some northern, Lancashire, Cheshire or Lincolnshire connection, and only sporadically in texts with a more southern provenance.16 Lexical variants, other than those found in Cursor Mundi for this word, are found in different non-northern manuscripts of the Lay Folks’ Catechism, The Northern Homily Cycle, Mandeville’s Travels or The Siege of Troy, all of them originally also 15 In all the maps, the attested occurrences in precise localizations are marked with the symbol (T). The occurrences within a county which represent broad localizations, that is, not precisely to a particular place in that county, are grouped together and the number of texts where they occur are shown with a number in a black circle (e.g. n). If the number of these occurrences in a county is higher than five, the symbol used is (r+). The lexical variants to a precise localization are marked with (V), and the number of entries which represent broad localization of variants within a county is represented by a number in a circle with white background (e.g. c). 16 We have recorded occurrences in the following localized manuscripts containing ME works. The abbreviations for the localizations (between brackets) follow the LALME conventions. Avowing of Arthur Princeton, University Library, Dept. of rare Books and Special Collections, Taylor 9, (La). Benedictine Rule London, BL, Lansdowne 378, f. 19v (Yks); London, BL, Cotton Vespasian A.25, f. 109v, (WRY). The Prose Alexander Lincoln, Cathedral Library, 91, f. 25r (NME). Ywain and Gawain London, BL, Cotton Galba E.9, ff.13v, 18v, 21r (NME). Mandeville’s Travels London, BL, Egerton 1982, f. 95r (NRY); Oxford, Queen’s College, 383, f. 82r (SW Midlands); Oxford, Bodleian Library, e Mus. 116, ff. 22rb, 33vb (Cam). Northern Homily Cycle Edinburgh, Royal College of Physicians, ff. 16rb, 16va, 25vb, 35ra (NME); London, BL, Harley 4196 (NME). Patience and Cleanness London, BL, Cotton Nero A.10, f. 87v and f. 61v (Chs). The Siege of Troy London, BL, Egerton 2862, f. 125v (Sfk). York Plays London, BL, Additional 35290, ff. 22r, 156r (S Yk). Cursor Mundi London, BL, Additional 10036, f. 63va (Wrk); Göttingen, University Library, Theo. 107, ff. 23rb, 25va, 33va, 39vb, 46ra, 59vb, etc. (SE Li/WRY); Edinburgh, Royal College of Physicians, ff. 37rb, 39rb, 43vb (WRY); London, BL, Cotton Vespasian A.3 ff. 6rb, 10rb, 11ra, 13vb, 19va, 21ra, 27ra, etc. (WRY); Oxford, Bodleian Library, Fairfax 14, ff. 11v, 12v, 20v, 27v, 30r, 31r, etc. (La). Bevis of Hampton Cambridge, Gonville and Caius College, 175/96 (Li). Lay Folks’ Catechism York, Borthwick Institute of Historical Research R.I.11, f. 296v (WRY); London, BL, Harley 1022 (WRY); Cambridge, Trinity College, B.10.12 (WRY); London, BL, Additional 25006, f. 5v (NW Yrk); Oxford, Bodleian Library, Don. C.13 (WRY); Oxford, Corpus Christi College, 155 (NRY); Lincoln, Lincoln Cathedral, 91, leaf 216 (WRY/Li); Paris, Biblioteque Ste. Genevive 3390, f. 46v (Chs/W Dby); Nottingham, University Library, Middleton LM 9, f. 253r (Lei); Cambridge, Sidney Sussex College, 55 (Nth) Cambridge, University Library, Additional 6686, p. 363 (Nt). 160 Lexical dialectal items in Cursor Mundi from the Northern area or Lincolnshire. In most cases, the commonest lexical variant is NEDE.17 3.2 YERNEN: CONTEXTS OF OCCURRENCES IN CURSOR MUNDI AND DIALECTAL DISTRIBUTION The second lexical item I have chosen is YERNEN,18 a verb with the general meaning of ‘to desire’. It appears 33 times in lines of the northern texts with a parallel southern version, at the end of the line, initially or in the middle. All the southern copies are quite consistent in the selection of the vocabulary. Nevertheless, the scribe of L makes some further changes with respect to this item in places where the original southern translator left the word unaltered. In line 2592, where H reads: ‘þat myche þeraftir ȝerned I wis’ (f. 17ra), the corresponding reading in L is ‘longid’ instead of ‘ȝerned’ and in line 10858, where H reads: ‘he ȝerned not to haue no wyf’ (f. 63va), there is a variant in L for ‘ȝerned’ that reads ‘thoght.’ Even if the scribe of L leaves many of the occurrences unaltered as well, his substitutions may indicate that he had preferences for other items rather than ‘yernen’. In general, the tendency for this word up to around line 8500 in all southern copies is to change it in mid17 The localized manuscript copies in which we have recorded variants are the following: Mandeville’s Travels Oxford, Balliol College, 239, f. 119r (Wrk); variant found: ‘need’; Dublin, Trinity College, E.5.6, f. 34r (N Dby / S Yk); variant found: ‘need’; London, BL, Additional 33758, f. 34r (Dvn); variant found: ‘need’; Oxford, Bodleian Library, Rawl. D.100, f. 45r (Wor); variant found: ‘need’; Oxford, Bodleian Library, Rawl. D.101, f. 59r, (Brk); variant found: ‘need’; London, BL, Royal 17 B. xliii, f. 68v (Hrf); variant found: ‘need’; London, BL, Harley 2386, f. 111r (Dvn); word omitted; London, BL, Harley 3954, f. 36v (Nfk); word omitted; London, BL, Royal 17 C. xxxviii, f. 39va, (Glo?); word omitted. Northern Homily Cycle Cambridge, University Library, Dd.1.1 (Ely); variant found: ‘nede’. The Siege of Troy London, College of Arms, Arundel 22 (Dvn); variant found: ‘nede’. Lay Folks’ Catechism Oxford, Bodleian Library, Bodley 789 (Glo); variant found: ‘nede’; Lambeth Palace Library, 408, f. 13r (Borders Nfk, Ely and S Li); variant found: ‘neede’; Hopton Hall, f. 5v. (W Nfk, Ely); variant found: ‘nede’; Yale, University Library 317, f.33v (Nfk/Ely/S Li), word omitted; London, BL, Harley 6615, f. 284v (Nfk); variant found: ‘nede’; Oxford, Bodleian Library, Rawlinson C. 288 (Nfk); variant found: ‘nede’. 18 According to OED from OE, Northumb. ȝiorna, Mercian ȝeornan, WS ȝiernan, corresponding to OS girnean, gernean, ON girna), Gott gaírnjan, related to OE ȝeorn, Goth –gaírns. 161 María José Carrillo position and to retain it in final position19. From lines 10506 to 20142, there is no consistency at all. In some instances, the word is retained in midposition as well as in final position20, where it occurs only in three instances, two of which show no lexical variant for it21. From line 21249 onwards, the word occurs in the northern versions 10 times22, and it is retained in the southern copies, regardless of the position it occupies within the line23. Once more, it seems that for this word the original southern scribe/translator took the trouble to translate a possible alien term far more consistently in the first half of his task, and then only occasionally to end up leaving all the instances as he found them in his exemplar. The geographical distribution of YERNEN, according to the sources analysed so far, is shown on map 2. Most of the works where it occurs are either northern or western in origin, and it is found in manuscripts localized in the northern counties of Yorkshire and Durham, in the western counties of Cheshire, and Worcestershire, in the eastern county of Lincolnshire, and also in the central Midlands in Derbyshire.24 Lexical variants, other than those 19 See ll. 1, 2592, 6188, 8205, 8298, 8448, where it is retained and ll. 2971, 3290, 3589, 5942, 7984, 8375 and 8399 where it is substituted. 20 See ll. 10506, 10758, 16167, 16185, 17608 and 19027. 21 See ll. 10513, 11475, 14847, 19317 and 20142. 22 See ll. 21249, 21771, 21779, 22340, 23458, 23539, 23542, 23543 and 23588. 23 There is only one instance in this part of the work where there is a slight transformation in the line contents. See l. 23680. 24 Occurrences have been recorded in: Richard Misyn, The Fire of Love Oxford, Corpus Christi College, 236, f. 33v (Li). Benedictine Rule London, BL, Cotton Vespasian A.25, f. 76r (WRY). The Parliament of the Three Ages London, BL, Additional 31042 (NME). Piers Plowman, C Version Dublin, Trinity College, 212 (D.4.1), f. 63v (NW Gl); London, University Library, Sir Louis Sterling Library V.17 (W Wor); London, BL, Additional 35157 (Copied by a NW Wor scribe from a SW Worcestershire exemplar); San Marino, Huntington Library, HM 143, f. 73r (SW Wor, but with some slight signs of interference typical of a London copying). San Marino, Huntington Library, HM 137 (Mon, Wales, bordering Gl). Lay Folks Mass Book London, BL, Royal 17.B.17, f. 7r (Dby); Cambridge, University Library, Gg.5.31, f. 2v (NME); Oxford, Corpus Christi College, 155, f. 253r (NRY). Off alle floures Oxford, Bodleian Library, Eng. poet. a.1 (Vernon), 162 Lexical dialectal items in Cursor Mundi found in Cursor Mundi, have been found in more southerly copies of texts with a northern origin, localized in Norfolk/Ely, Leicestershire, Northamptonshire and Gloucestershire.25 3.3 YEMEN: CONTEXTS OF OCCURRENCES IN CURSOR MUNDI AND DIALECTAL DISTRIBUTION The third lexical item chosen is YEMEN26 a verb with the meaning of ‘take care of, keep.’ It occurs 16 times in the northern lines that have a parallel southern version. The circumstances for this word are different from the previous one. In all southern texts YEMEN is always retained at the end of a f. 410v (Wor). Cursor Mundi Göttingen, University Library, Theo. 107, ff. 1va, 6rb, 13rb, 18vb, 26ra, 43vb, 45vb, 53vb, 55vb, 57rb, etc. (SE Li/WRY); Edinburgh, Royal College of Physicians, ff. 43vb, 50rb (WRY); London, BL, Cotton Vespasian A.3, ff. 16rb, 17rb, 18rb, 19vb, 33vb, 35rb, 36vb, 75vb, 80va, etc. (WRY); Oxford, Bodleian Library, Fairfax 14, ff. 72r, 75v, 83r, 93v, 99v, 100r, etc. (La). York Plays London, BL, Additional 35290, ff. 93r, 102r (S Yk). Lay Folks’ Catechism York, Borthwick Institute of Historical Research R.I.11, f. 295v (WRY); London, BL, Harley 1022 (WRY); Cambridge, Trinity College, B.10.12 (WRY); London, BL, Additional 25006, ff. 3v, 4r, 4v, 8v (NW Yrk); Oxford, Bodleian Library, Don. C.13 (NRY); Oxford, Corpus Christi College, 155 (NRY); Lincoln, Lincoln Cathedral, 91, leafs 215, 218 (WRY/Li); Paris, Biblioteque Ste. Genevive 3390, ff. 42v, 43v, 49r (Chs/W Dby); Oxford, Bodleian Library, Bodley 789 (Glo); Hopton Hall, ff. 3v, 4r, 6r (W Nfk, Ely); Nottingham, Nottingham University Library, Middleton LM 9, ff. 250v, 251r, 254r (Lei); London, BL, Harley 6615, f. 281v, 288r (Nfk); Oxford, Bodleian Library, Rawlinson c. 285, f. 62 (NME). 25 Lay Folks Mass Book Cambridge, Newnham College, 900.4 (West Midlands?); variant found: ‘desire’; Cambridge, Gonville and Caius College, 84/166 (Dby); variant found: ‘for-gyfnes’. Lay Folks’ Catechism Oxford, Bodleian Library, Douce 274 (Dby); variant found: ‘desires’; Oxford, Bodleian Library, Bodley 789 (Glo); variant found: ‘desire’; London, Lambeth Palace Library, 408, f.11, (Borders of Nfk, Ely and S Li); variants found: ‘coueyte’ and ‘desirys’; Yale, University Library 317, ff. 31r, 31v (Nfk/Ely/S Li); variants found: ‘asketh’ and ‘coueyte’; Nottingham, University Library, Middleton LM 9, f. 251r. (Lei); variant found: ‘coueyten’; London, BL, Harley 6615, f. 280v, 281v, 286v (Nfk); variant found: ‘coueyte’ and ‘askiþ’; Oxford, Bodleian Library, Rawlinson C. 288 (Nfk); variants found: ‘asketh’ and ‘coueyt’; Cambridge, Sidney Sussex College, 55 (Nth); variants found: ‘desire’ and ‘coveite’; Cambridge, University Library Ff.5.40, f. 118r (Nfk); variant found: ‘desireth’. 26 From OE ȝíeman = OS gômean to care for, guard, entertain (guests), OHG goumjan, goumôn (MHG goumen) to give heed to, observe, feast, ON geyma to heed, watch (Sw gōmma to keep, hide, Da gjemme to keep, guard, save), Goth gaumjan to perceive. 163 María José Carrillo line in a total number of twelve instances,27 and it is replaced four times by a lexical equivalent (KEPEN) or omitted in any other position28. Nevertheless, in line 9689 there are different readings in both L and B; L reads ‘lepe’ and B reads ‘sett’ in the context of the line ‘But for to kepe pees in londe’ (H: f. 56vb). These alternative readings suggest that the exemplars for both the scribe of L and that of B did not have the commonest replacement for that word, that is, KEPEN, or if these/this exemplar(s) had it, the word must have been palaeographically problematic. The reading in B makes more sense than that of L, so this was probably an emendation by its scribe, while L retains a probable misreading of an obscure initial <k>. Additionally, in line 14638, the item YEMEN occurs in the context of the line that reads: ‘þar yee war yemed haf i ben’ (C: f. 80va), and in most southern copies the word is changed into ‘saue’ as in ‘Aboute to saue ȝow haue I bene’ (H: f. 86ra). It is only the reading in L that is different in this occasion, and it was probably caused by a misreading of the initial <s> or, more likely, by an eye-skip provoked by the ‘haue’ that follows immediately after. The dialectal nature of YEMEN is, in this case, more difficult to envisage if we take into consideration the occurrences in Cursor Mundi only. These four replacements could be caused by different sorts of motivations, not related at all with the dialectal nature of the word. Nevertheless, if we compare the occurrences and avoidances of YEMEN in the Cursor Mundi with those in other works, it seems probable that when the scribe changed it, he did it because the word was alien in his repertoire. Map 3 shows the distribution of this lexical item and the places in which we have lexical variants in parallel texts. In this case, the occurrences of YEMEN are not strictly restricted to the north. The item seems to be also common in the western part of the country extending its scope as far south as 27 It occurs in ll. 2690, 7015, 8585, 9541, 11173, 12446, 17416, 17538, 19129, 19963, 22421 and 23136. There is a variant in line11173 in B, which seems to be a misreading of the original, for this text reads here ‘ȝeue’. 28 See ll. 9689, 9980, 14638 and 16894. 164 Lexical dialectal items in Cursor Mundi the counties of Worcestershire, Shropshire and Herefordshire.29 The variants found for this word appear in parallel manuscripts of works of northern or western origin such as the Lay Folks’ Catechism, The Siege of Troy or the 14th century version of the Ancrene Riwle.30 4. FURTHER LEXICAL EVIDENCE IN CURSOR MUNDI AND CONCLUSIONS 29 The texts in which we have checked occurrences are: Benedictine Rule London, BL, Landsowne 378, f. 17v, 30r (Yks); London, BL, Cotton Vespasian A.25, ff. 88v, 110v (WRY). The Gospel of Nicodemus London, Sion College, Arc.L.40.2/E.25, f. 19v (NME); London, BL, Additional 32578, f. 122r (La); London, BL, Cotton Galba E.9, f. 60 (NME); London, BL, Harley 4196, f. 208r (NME). Life of Saint Anne Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Library Z.822.N.81, f. 214r (NME). Metrical Version of the Old Testament Oxford, Bodleian Library, Selden Supra 52, f. 125r (WRY). Octovian Lincoln, Cathedral Library, 91, ff. 102va, 109ra (NME). Piers Plowman, C Version London, BL, Harley 2376 f. 85r (SE Hrf near Gl border). Cursor Mundi Göttingen, University Library, Theo. 107, ff. 19va, 49va, 59vb, 66ra, 67ra, 68vb, etc. (SE Li/NRY); Edinburgh, Royal College of Physicians, f. 1ra (WRY); London, BL, Cotton Vespasian A.3, ff. 16vb, 39va, 48ra, 53rb, 53vb, 55vb, 62ra, etc. (WRY); Oxford, Bodleian Library, Fairfax 14, ff. 17v, 39v, 48ra, 47r, 78r, 94r, 117r, 125v, 155r, 156r, etc. (La). Mandeville’s Travels London, BL, Egerton 1982, f. 51r (NRY). Wars of Alexander Oxford, Bodleian Library, Ashmole 44, f. 78r (Dur). Northern Homily Cycle Edinburgh, Royal College of Physicians, ff. 16rb, 18rb, 24ra, 29ra, 29ra, 29rb, 33va (NME); Oxford, Bodleian Library, Eng. poet. a.1 (Wor). Cleanness London, BL, Cotton Nero A.10, f. 67r (Chs). Havelok the Dane Cambridge, University Library, Additional 4407 (Nfk). The Siege of Troy London, BL, Egerton 2862, f. 114 (Sfk); London, Lincoln’s Inn, Hale 150 (Sal). York Plays London, BL, Additional 35290, f. 134r, 238v (S Yk). Lay Folks’ Catechism, York, Borthwick Institute of Historical Research R.I.11, f. 297r (WRY); London, BL, Harley 1022 (WRY); Cambridge, Trinity College, B.10.12 (WRY); London, BL, Additional 25006, f. 7v (NW Yrk); Oxford, Bodleian Library, Don. C.13 (NRY); Oxford, Corpus Christi College, 155 (NRY); Lincoln, Lincoln Cathedral, 91, leaf 217 (WRY/Li); Paris, Biblioteque Ste. Genevive 3390, f 49r (Chs/W Dby). 30 Ancrene Riwle Oxford, Bodleian Library, Eng. poet. a.1, f. 388ra (Wor); The Siege of Troy London, College of Arms, Arundel 22 (Dvn); variant found: ‘keped’. Lay Folks’ Catechism Oxford, Bodleian Library, Bodley 789 (Glo); variant found: ‘kepith fro’; London, Lambeth Palace Library, 408, f.16 (Borders of Nfk, Ely and S Li); variant found: ‘kepys fro’; Hopton Hall, f. 6r (W Nfk / Ely); variant found: ‘kepith fro’; Yale, University Library 317, f.33v, (Nfk / Ely / S Li), word omitted; Nottingham, University Library, Middleton LM 9, f. 254r (Lei); variant found: ‘kepeþ from’; London, BL, Harley 6615, f. 286v (Nfk); variant found: ‘kepiþ fro’; Oxford, Bodleian Library, Rawlinson C. 288 (Nfk); variant found: ‘kepeth fro’; Cambridge, Sidney Sussex College, 55 (Nth); variant found: ‘kepith’. 165 María José Carrillo All this evidence seems to show that these three lexical items were also dialectal, even if they were not included in Kaiser’s list. Nevertheless, the study of the distributions of three lexical items in isolation cannot provide sufficient support to us to be able to make accurate statements about the provenance of the original southern version. A thorough study of the dialectal lexicon as a whole is required for this purpose. In the present state of word geography studies in Middle English, this cannot be done. A pre-requisite to carry out a study of this sort is to map the distributions of the dialectal lexical items. Our present study is based on 40 lexical items and the distributions of the occurrences of all the items is not complete yet, since the potential occurrences of these items are scattered in more than 400 ME works in over 1000 manuscript copies. We have covered so far around 100 of these works and for some items the distributions are quite accurate. Other lexical items occurring also in Cursor Mundi that we consider also to be dialectal, and whose distributions have been mapped are: SERE, ALKIN, SAMEN and THOLEN31. Their possible distributions in the time-span selected (13601460) are shown on maps 4 to 7. The distribution of the item SERE on map 4 seems to be almost entirely restricted to the most northern areas of the country, where it is well attested. We have recorded occurrences as far south as the eastern part of Cheshire and northern Derbyshire and also in south Lincolnshire. An original northern SERE is substituted by lexical equivalents such as MANY or DIVERSE in 31 The etymologies of these words according to the OED are: SERE: From ON: cp. OI sēr, dat. of sik refl.pron. ALKIN: From OE ealra cynna [?] SAMEN: From OE. *samen, somen (with prep. æt somne) = OFris. samin, semin, to-semine, to saminen, OS. saman, at-samna, to samne (MLG. sam(m)ene, to samene), MDu. samen, te-samen (Du. tezamen), OHG. saman, zi samane (MLG. zesamene, mod.G. zusammen), ON. saman, til samans (Sw. samman, tilsamman(s, Da. sammen, tilsammen), Goth. Samana. THOLEN: From OE. þolian = OS. tholôn, tholian, OHG. dolôn, dolên (MHG. dolen, doln), ON. þola (Da. taale, Sw. tåla), Goth. þulan, f. OTeut. stem *þul-. 166 Lexical dialectal items in Cursor Mundi parallel non-northern texts of works where SERE occurs.32 Map 5 shows the distribution of ALKIN. Its occurrences are also well attested in the north, but its southern limits seem to be further southwards than those for SERE, and they spread out as well to south-west Midland areas. Variants or omissions in parallel texts have been found in copies scattered throughout many counties. The commonest variants found are ALL, ALL MANNER and EACH. Map 6 represents the distribution of the item SAMEN. Although this seems to be a predominantly northern term, there are several occurrences in some copies of Piers Plowman localized in the SW Midlands. The commonest variant for SAMEN is TOGETHER. The distribution of THOLEN is shown on map 7. It seems to occur consistently in the northern areas and in the west, and there are avoidances of this item in records from a larger number of counties. The lexical variant found for THOLEN is almost always SUFFER. By displaying together on maps the distribution for some of the items we have analysed, and that have been substituted in the southern version, we obtain a picture that provides the global areas in which the lexical equivalents would not be the first option for a scribe, and therefore, a replacement should not be expected in those areas. The remaining areas would be either those for which we have found lexical variants, or the areas for which we have no evidence. If this process cannot provide the possible area of composition of the southern version of Cursor Mundi, it could, at least, eliminate the areas of occurrences of the items that have a lexical equivalent in the Cursor Mundi manuscripts. Unfortunately, we have not yet recorded instances for occurrence or avoidance of any of the items in Staffordshire. The only evidence for this county is that extracted from the Cursor Mundi manuscripts, and this is very uncertain, as I have pointed out before. Map 8 represents the areas of coexistence of the lexical items analysed. The counties of Durham, Yorkshire, 32 Most of the records of occurrences are from texts that seem to have been originally composed in northern areas. The avoidances we have recorded here are found in the most southern copies of originally northern works. 167 María José Carrillo Nottinghamshire, Derbyshire, Cheshire, and probably Lincolnshire, in which SERE is commonly used, would not be likely to have been the original place of composition of the southern version, since the item is substituted. Other replaced terms analysed can also eliminate with more certainty some areas of Lincolnshire and Worcestershire (ALKIN); the western counties of Lancashire, Shropshire and Herefordshire can be disregarded as well (YEMEN), and likewise the county of Gloucestershire (THOLEN). The more items we add, the closer we can get and the narrower the limits are going to be. As stated earlier on, the present state of research in Middle English word geography does not allow for a much deeper study. After putting together the evidence for dialectal terms we have collected, we cannot be very precise about the place of origin of the version from which the extant southern manuscripts of Cursor Mundi derive. Horrall’s claim about Lichfield being the place of composition of the original southern version cannot be disregarded taking into consideration the linguistic data. Nevertheless, having no evidence for Staffordshire, the closest we can get is by looking at the evidence in the surrounding counties. Some of these items certainly occurred in most of the counties surrounding Staffordshire to the north, west and south. Lichfield is located in the south-eastern part of the county, and replacements and avoidances of several items have been recorded in the nearby counties of Warwickshire and Leicestershire, to the east and south of Lichfield. It is feasible that the scribe of the original southern version was copying it, or was himself from that area or further south or east. The more data we accumulate for each lexical item, the more precise we could be about the localization of the place of composition of the southern version of Cursor Mundi. The analysis carried out in these pages shows a practical application of the research on Middle English word geography. With this example, I would like to emphasize the importance of carrying on a research line on the dialectal lexical material in Middle English, which as well as being a topic worthy in its own 168 Lexical dialectal items in Cursor Mundi right, can additionally have many other more specific or practical applications of great interest for other kind of studies. Mª José Carrillo Linares University of Huelva REFERENCES Black, M. 2000: Putting Words in their Place: An approach to Middle English Word Geography. R. Bermudez-Otero, D. Denison, R. M. Hogg & C. B. McCully (Eds). Generative Theory and Corpus Studies: A Dialogue from 10 ICEHL. (pp. 455-479). Mounton de Gruyter, Berlin, New York. Carrillo Linares, M. J. & Garrido Anes, E. 2007: Middle English Lexical Distributions: Two Instances from the Lay Folks’ Catechism. G. Mazzon (ed.), Studies in Middle English forms and Meanings. (pp. 85100). Peter Lang, Frankfurt. Carrillo Linares, M. J. & Garrido Anes, E. Forthcoming, 2008: Middle English Word Geography: Methodology and Applications Illustrated. Proceedings of the Fourteenth International Conference on English Historical Linguistics (14 ICEHL), University of Bergamo, 21-25 August 2006. Eldredge, L. M. & Klinck, A. L. 2000: The Southern Version of Cursor Mundi. Vol. V. University of Ottawa Press, Ottawa. Fisiak, J. 2004: Some Remarks on Middle English Word Geography. Poetica 62: 1-15. Fowler, R. 1990: The Southern Version of Cursor Mundi. Vol. II. University of Ottawa Press, Ottawa. 169 María José Carrillo Horrall, Sarah M. 1978: The Southern Version of Cursor Mundi. Vol. I. University of Ottawa Press, Ottawa. Horobin, S. 2001: J. R. R. Tolkien as a Philologist: A Reconsideration of the Northernisms in Chaucer’s Reeve’s Tale. English Studies 82:2: 97-105. Horobin, S. 2004: Southern copies of the Prick of Conscience and the Study of Middle English Word Geography. Poetica 62: 89-101. Hudson, A. 1983: Observations on a Northerner’s Vocabulary. In E.G. Stanley & D. Gray (eds.). Five Hundred Years of Words and Sounds. D.S. Brewer, Cambridge. 74-83. Hupe, H. 1893: Essay on the Manuscripts and Dialect. In R. Morris Cursor Mundi. EETS 101. Trübner, London. Kaiser, R. 1937: Zur Geographie des mittelenglischen Wortchatzes. Palestra 205. Leipzig: Mayer & Müller. MED = Kurath, H. & al. 1952-2001: Middle English Dictionary. University of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor. Lewis, R. 1992: Sources and Techniques for the study of Middle English Word Geography. In M. Laing & K. Williamson. Speaking in our Tongues. (pp. 205-214). D.S. Brewer, Cambridge. McIntosh, A. 1972: Some words in the Northern Homily Collection. Neophilologische Mitteilungen lxxiii: 196-208. McIntosh, A. 1973: Word Geography in the Lexicography of Medieval English. Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences ccxi: 55-66. Reprinted in M. Laing (1989) pp. 86-97. McIntosh, A. 1978: Middle English Word Geography: Its Potential Role in the Study of the Long-Term Impact of the Scandinavian Settlements upon English. The Vikings, Proceedings of the Symposium of the Faculty of Arts of Uppsala University, June 6-9. Reprinted in M. Laing (1989) pp. 98-105. 170 Lexical dialectal items in Cursor Mundi LALME = McIntosh, A., Samuels, M. L. & Benskin, M. [with the assistance of M. Laing and K. Williamson]. 1986: Linguistic Atlas of Late Medieval English. Aberdeen University Press, Aberdeen. Morris, R. 1874, 1875, 1876, 1877, 1878, 1893: Cursor Mundi. EETS 57, 59, 62, 66, 68, 99, 101. Trübner, London. Mooney, L. 2003: A Fragment of the Cursor Mundi in the Sutherland Collection on Deposit in the National Library of Scotland. Journal of the Early Book Society 6: 143-47. Mous, Peter H. J. 1986: The Southern Version of Cursor Mundi. Vol. IV. University of Ottawa Press, Ottawa. OED = Murray, J. & alii 1989: The Oxford English Dictionary. Clarendon Press, Oxford. Samuels, M. L. 1981: Spelling and Dialect in the Late and Post-Middle English Periods. In M. Benskin & M. L. Samuels (Eds.), So Meny People, Longages and Tonges: Philological Essays in Scots and Medieval English Presented to Angus McIntosh. Middle English Dialect Project, Edinburgh. 43-54. Stauffenberg, H. J. 1985: The Southern Version of Cursor Mundi. Vol. III. University of Ottawa Press, Ottawa. Thompson, J. J. 1998: The Cursor Mundi: Poem, Texts and Contexts. The Society for the Study of Medieval Languages and Literature. Medium Aevum Monographs, Oxford. Wright, J. 1898-1905: The English Dialect Dictionary. Oxford University Press, London. 171 María José Carrillo 172 Lexical dialectal items in Cursor Mundi 173 María José Carrillo 174 Lexical dialectal items in Cursor Mundi 175 María José Carrillo 176 Lexical dialectal items in Cursor Mundi 177 María José Carrillo 178 Lexical dialectal items in Cursor Mundi *†* 179 MEDICINE, ASTRONOMY, AFFIXES AND OTHERS: AN ACCOUNT OF VERB FORMATION IN SOME EARLY SCIENTIFIC WORKS Abstract The patterns of derivational morphology found in Middle English in general should, theoretically, coincide with those found in an emerging functional variety of English from the same period (scientific writing). This scientific register has only been studied as such in the last decade or so, and often receiving a brief mention in more general works. At the same time, derivational morphology has not been considered as a tool to measure the degree of vernacularisation of late Middle English scientific texts. In this paper we intend to examine the behaviour of verbs in late Middle English scientific texts from the point of view of derivation and the degree of vernacularisation observed in them (previous work has focused on the analysis of nouns, arguing that they are the most frequent word-category with semantic content in scientific writing). The particular aspect of vernacularisation that concerns us here is the ability of writers to reanalyse and re-use elements of the language. To ascertain whether all fields of knowledge resort to the same linguistic devices, whe have used Chaucer’s The Equatorie of the Planetis and Astrolabe and compared it with a Remedy Book. Keywords: derivational morphology, Middle English, scientific register, vernacularisation. Resumen Los modelos derivativos encontrados en Inglés Medio deberían, en teoría, coincidir con los hallados en una incipiente variedad funcional del mismo periodo (el inglés científico). Este registro científico ha sido objeto de estudio en la última década, a menudo, recibiendo una breve mención en trabajos más amplios. Al mismo tiempo, la morfología derivativa no ha sido considerada una herramienta para medir el grado de vernacularización de los textos científicos en inglés medio tardío. En este artículo pretendemos examinar el comportamiento de los verbos en textos científicos de inglés medio tardío desde el punto de vista de la derivación así como el grado de vernacularización observado en ellos (trabajos anteriores se han centrado en el análisis de los nombres aduciendo que son la categoría léxica más frecuente en inglés científico). El aspecto concreto de la vernacularización que nos interesa es la capacidad de los autores para reanalizar y reutilizar elementos de la lengua. Para comprobar si todos los campos del saber recurren a los mismos procesos lingüísticos, hemos usado The Equatorie of the Planetis y Astrolabe de Chaucer y lo hemos comparado con un Remedy Book. Palabras clave: morfología, derivación, Inglés Medio, registro científico, vernacularización. The patterns of derivational morphology found in Middle English should, theoretically, coincide with the patterns found in an emerging functional variety of English from the same period. Marchand (1969), Matthews (1974), Fernández (1982), Burnley (1992), Kastovsky (1992) and Dalton-Puffer (1996), Begoña Crespo & Isabel Moskowich, Selim 13 (2005-2006): 181—200 Begoña Crespo & Isabel Moskowich as well as a number of classical authors, have done extensive work on the behaviour of the English morphological subsystem at different stages of its evolution. A complementary analysis of the scientific register has only been broached in the last decade or so, however, sometimes receiving only a brief mention in more general works (Barber 1993; Beal 2004). Meanwhile, derivational morphology, mainly affixation, has not yet been considered as a tool to measure the degree of vernacularisation of so-called “late Middle English scientific texts”. Previous work on morphology and semantics has focused on the analysis of nouns, arguing that they are the most frequent word-category with semantic content in late-medieval scientific writing, which in turn relates to the primary function of scientific texts to transmit ideas -concepts, objects, etc. (Sager & al. 1980). In this paper, we intend to examine the behaviour of verbs in late Middle English scientific texts from the point of view of derivation and the degree of vernacularisation observed in them. The particular aspect of vernacularisation that concerns us here is the ability of speakers/writers to reanalyse and re-use elements of the language. The paper is divided into four sections. The first contains some preliminary observations about morphological analysis, Middle English and the emerging scientific register. In section 2 we present the corpus of data, and in section 3 our analysis. The paper concludes with some final remarks in section 4. 1.- MIDDLE ENGLISH MORPHOLOGY AND THE EMERGING SCIENTIFIC REGISTER The productive combination of native bases and affixes in OE comes close to disappearing in the following period. Although a detailed account of Middle English derivational morphology shows the survival of a few residual OE prefixes and suffixes, it also demonstrates the influence of French, Latin and Greek in bringing about one of the biggest changes in the morphological and 182 Medicine, Astronomy, Affixes & others lexical stock of the vernacular. Legal texts, documents, wills, charts, and the like, written in French and Latin, introduced a new, more non-Germanic formal aspect to the English lexicon. Language contact, both through oral and written media, favoured the introduction of new vocabulary items (either simple or complex) that, once assimilated by the discourse community, were used in combination with more familiar native bases (unknowable). The reverse also occurred: foreign bases were combined with native affixes (moisten). As Adams (2001: 11) has recently claimed: “no account of English word formation can ignore the mixed nature of the English vocabulary and the circumstances in which this situation came about”. Adams’s words remind us of the importance of taking into account the external history of the language to achieve a better understanding of how word-formation processes developed. It is towards the end of the 14th century when the vernacular began to displace French and Latin from their usual contexts of use, with new functional varieties of English or registers appearing. We, like Voigts (1989) and Taavitsainen (2000), therefore believe that the vernacularisation of the English scientific register dates to the last quarter of the 14th century. This is why we have selected samples from the turn of the century: to study the behaviour of word-formation (derivation) in a particular functional variety of English at its earliest manifestation, and measure the level of vernacularisation of these first texts using derivation. For a complete examination of any linguistic aspect of a register or special language (to use Sager & alii’s terminology), we must consider what other elements should be taken into account apart from the intra-systemic analysis itself. Here are some pragmatic considerations proposed by two different authors that may be useful: a) According to Halliday’s (1988: 140-141) Systemic Functional Grammar, diatypic variation can be examined in terms of Field (discipline or subjectfield), Tenor (intended audience) and Mode (oral or written). He defines 183 Begoña Crespo & Isabel Moskowich register as “a cluster of associated features having greater-than-random […] tendency to co-occur”. b) Biber (1995: 1) proposes a definition of register as “any variety associated with particular situational contexts or purposes”. The difference between these two authors lies in the fact that for Halliday the scientific register is the result of a realignment of lexico-grammatical elements, whereas Biber focuses on the use of technical vocabulary, among other (morpho-)syntactic constructions, as a register marker. We will analyse both the intra-systemic and extra-systemic factors in question in our survey of derivational morphology in early scientific writing. 2.- METHODOLOGICAL CONCERNS: PROCEDURE AND CORPUS MATERIAL Three samples from two different disciplines have been used in our survey: a Remedy Book containing a compilation of medical recipes for medicine, and Chaucer’s A Treatise on the Astrolabe and The Equatorie of the Planetis for astronomy. To make the total number of words for each discipline more or less equal, both the Remedy Book (20,788 words) and the Astrolabe have been taken in toto, but, for the Equatorie, only the sample included in the Helsinki Corpus has been considered. This gives a total of 21,544 words for the astronomy texts. Graph 1 below shows the total number of words (42,332) per sample and discipline. Sager, Dungworth and MacDonald (1980) state that sublanguages or special languages (what we term registers) contain primarily nouns and, secondarily, verbs. Although their findings refer to present-day English, it is interesting to observe that this is also the case for pre-modern times, at the very birth of the scientific functional variety. 3.- ANALYSIS OF DATA 184 Medicine, Astronomy, Affixes & others Three aspects will be considered in our analysis of data: 1.- Type/token ratio of the verbal forms recorded to assess the presence of verbs as opposed to nouns. 2.- Etymology of verbs, in general and in relation to each discipline. 3.- Derivational morphology as an indicator of vernacularisation. 3.1.- TYPE/TOKEN RATIO The samples in our survey comprise 42,332 words: 5,126 of them represent verbal forms (12.10 %), in contrast with the number of nouns (21.85%) found in previous works where the same text samples have been used (Moskowich & Crespo 2006). These figures, referring only to the number of tokens found, are probably a reflection of the fact that scientific writing is less concerned with the description of actions and processes than of artefacts or concepts. Our figures confirm the claim by Sager & al. mentioned earlier, that the lexical category verbs comes second in the ranking of word–classes used in this type of writing. This claim is also in line with the figures we have found for each discipline: medicine contains 2,979 tokens, whereas astronomy contains 2,147. The type of texts selected for the present study helps us to explain this circumstance. In Medicine, the compilation of recipes belongs to the Remedy Book tradition, representing the lower layer of text-types alluded to by Taavitsainen (2004). It is a practical guide in which the processes of selection of ingredients are described and directions for the preparation of different formulae (actions) are given to an audience with no academic training. By contrast, the two extracts of astronomy texts are more descriptive of ideas and objects and are addressed to a more educated audience1. The type/token analysis has revealed that there are 421 types and 5,126 tokens in our survey. To illustrate the most numerous types, we have listed 1 We believe that Chaucer’s address to his son Lewis is just a literary device to catch the readers’ attention. 185 Begoña Crespo & Isabel Moskowich those with more than fifty tokens. Table 1 shows that all these types are of Germanic (G, henceforth) provenance. At the other end of the scale we find instances of non-Germanic (NG, henceforth) types with one single token: amenusen, amounten, aperceyven, causen, moisten, rollen, condescenden, costen, counsellen, desturben, dicen, enhauncen, erren, expansen, destroyen, intercepten, obseruen, sustenen, among others. Within NG forms we can distinguish both derivative and nonderivative types, although derivation is more abundant. This is not the case with Germanic types, where all of them are simple. G forms, however, are more amenable to combination with other parts of speech to create multiword verbs than NG forms. This is the case with taken (taken up, out, doun, awei, of, ouertaken), setten (down, ouer, upon) and lien (on, up, upon, doun, ouer). As Burnley (1992: 445) has put it: This emphasis upon the particled verb as the focus of derivation is symptomatic of the change which took place during the fifteenth century by which the formation of verbs became concentrated on the production of particled verbs, and compound verbs ceased to be productive as a type of word formation. The reason for this may be that these verbs belong to the core vocabulary of the language. They are so internalised by the speaker that she/he is capable of reanalysing and combining them with different linguistic units to create new meanings and thus enrich the lexicon of the vernacular using native resources. We may therefore regard the addition of particles to verbal bases as a productive device of word-formation. 3.2 ETYMOLOGICAL ANALYSIS The etymological analysis of verbs will help us illustrate a number of pragmatic observations mentioned earlier. Although we have consulted the Middle English Dictionary, the etymological classification of verbs has been 186 Medicine, Astronomy, Affixes & others simplified by adopting a broad-based division of all occurrences into those of Germanic (G) and non-Germanic (NG) origin. There are, obviously, cases of unknown provenance (UNK), and these have been recorded as well. A combination of origins has been proposed for derivative cases where a base and an affix are mixed. The origins of both elements may coincide (G+G; NG+NG) or not (NG+G; G+NG). Switches into Latin have been also included in our database as CS (Code-switching). Table 2 below exhibits the general figures calculated according to these parameters. Our 5,126 verbal forms are distributed in such a way that Germanic origin corresponds to 82.73% of all forms (4,241 tokens, either G only or G+G) and Non-Germanic origin to 16.32% (837 tokens, both NG or NG+NG). This testifies to the advance of vernacularisation in early English scientific writing, at least in relation to the levels of technicality observed in our texts. However, we should also point out that, with respect to the number of types of G and NG provenance, the proportion of NG types is higher. This shows that recourse to foreign terms ultimately proved necessary: lexical gaps in the transmission of scientific concepts had to be filled, but the terms used for the purpose were not yet sufficiently assimilated by the discourse community of the recipient language to be able to reanalyse them and use their components. The creation of new words out of non-native word stock is a common procedure in present-day English scientific language, but this was not the case in medieval times when borrowing was the preferred method (Halliday 1978). Derivative occurrences are more common in forms of a NG extraction, where they often take the form of cultural borrowings2. The unbalanced distribution of etymological origins can be appreciated more clearly in the two disciplines of our study when viewed separately. 2 According to Scotton’s (1993) classification, cultural borrowings represent items introduced into the recipient language to designate new concepts, objects or processes. 187 Begoña Crespo & Isabel Moskowich Tables 3 and 4 below display the number of tokens recorded in each case. We observe a predominance of G forms in both medicine and astronomy samples, though the difference between G and NG instances is smaller in astronomy texts. Once again, this may be explained by the fact that the samples in our corpus are targeted at different kinds of addressee. An additional factor in this etymological imbalance is the underlying tradition in the Remedy Book, the compilation of medical recipes, which is missing in astronomy. The latter can be regarded as a newcomer in the vernacular. 3.3 WORD-FORMATION Affixation is the only word-formation process we have considered in this analysis. This means that all examples have been classified into simple forms (Ø process), S (for suffixation), P (for prefixation), and S+P, SS or PP for forms combining both types of affixes, or “multiple affixation” in CarstairsMcCarthy’s terms (2002). Finally, “other”, encompasses both compounding and multiword verbs. As Halliday (1978: 195) states “Creating new words out of native word stock […] has not played a very great part in the creation of technical registers in English”. In fact, a general examination of word-formation processes in our samples produced the results shown on table 5. The difference between simple and non-simple forms (91.74% vs 8.12%) is immense. At the level of non-simple forms the difference between derivatives (4.4%) and “other” (3.82%) is much less significant. Notwithstanding, a slightly different picture (see Graph 2) emerges from our discipline-based counts. To begin with, a lower percentage of simple forms has been found in astronomy along with a greater tendency to use derivative forms, although these “derivative” forms were taken in by language users as whole units, not yet identified as separable entities. The higher percentage of “other” in the medical sample can be explained principally, though not exclusively, on the 188 Medicine, Astronomy, Affixes & others grounds of the Scandinavian influence on Middle English. All combinations of lexical verb + grammatical word (either preposition or adverb) of the type described in section 3.2 can be included here. We now proceed to combine both variables, origin + word-formation process, in each discipline, in the hope of obtaining a new perspective on the vernacularisation of early scientific writings (Tables 6 and 7 below). Data from the Equatorie and the Astrolabe manifest a clear tendency to employ simple occurrences of G origin (1,574), in sharp contrast to the 271 instances from NG strata. All switches occur in the Astrolabe and correspond to the Latin type nota, a carry-over from the underlying classical tradition of the instructional book3. The 205 derivative tokens are divided into those which combine Germanic elements (G+G=80) and those which contain NG bases and affixes (NG+NG=125). The interaction of native and non-native elements is observed in “other” in the 7 instances of NG+G corresponding to 7 different types: ben descriued vp, ben deuided owt, tornen abowte, passen thorow, turnen vp, kowchen adown and passen owt. A special case of multiple affixation or derivation was found in just one form: condescenden. The technicality of the samples is not high enough to endow the texts with a higher degree of lexical complexity. As for the Remedy Book, because it exhibits fewer cases of affixation (21), it contains more simple verbal types of both G (2,405) and NG (406) origin, as well as a greater number of tokens grouped under the heading “other” (139), than the Astronomy samples (see Table 7). Affixation is illustrated by the combination of bases of the same origin: G+G (ouerhelen, ouerkarven), NG+NG (refresschen, restoren); or different origins, as in ouerclose (G+NG). The application of vernacular word-formation patterns to foreign words is observed in ouerclose, but also in the 13 instances accounted for by the juxtaposition of NG+G forms: pouren into, pouren out, 3 The Latin form coexists in our corpus with the same anglicised imperative note. 189 Begoña Crespo & Isabel Moskowich etc. Verb compounds (ouerhelen, ouerclose, withdrawen, ouertaken) coexist with phrasal verbs (helen ouer, drawen out, drawen doun, turnen up, turnen about, taken awei, taken doun, etc.), a method inherited from Old English times. The fact that phrasal verb formation was still operative in late Middle English and in a particular register could be regarded as a symptom of the vernacularisation of science from a morphological point of view. On the whole, the scarcity of examples from G+NG or NG+G validates the perception of the language as being in a stage of change described by Burnley (1992: 445-46) as follows: [ … ]after analysis of the word structure, there follows a period during which the word is stylistically differentiated from the rest of the lexis. It is synchronically recognisable by speakers of the language as foreign, and its affixes may be used to produce new formations with a restricted set of bases also perceived to be foreign. Such affixes are productive only within a subset of the lexis. We propose to analyse the classification of derivational processes based on the classes of form involved4. These categories include: * Class maintaining derivation produces lexemes that belong to the same class as the base from which they are derived, as in holden/biholden. Prefixation is a type of form-maintaining derivation in English. * Class-changing derivation produces forms that belong to a different class from that of the base from which they are derived. In English suffixation is a classchanging process, as in clarifie. Of the 228 derivative tokens, only 5 contain a suffix. They correspond to the type clarifie that, as we can see, illustrates affixation of NG provenance by means of the suffix –fie (usually added to nouns or adjectives to form verbs). As in any other field or discipline written in the vernacular, each independent 4 Some scholars disagree with this classification. Lyons (1970), for example, believes that forms that have undergone class-maintaining derivation cannot be considered as belonging to exactly the same class because the derivative cannot, in turn, undergo the process of derivation by which it was formed. 190 Medicine, Astronomy, Affixes & others suffix embodies the general patterns of the process in NG (mainly Latin and French) and G (basically English) languages. –fie is attached to a bound base to form a verb. As Harley (2006: 167) has noted: “None of the Germanic suffixes alter the phonological shape of their stems like that”, meaning that Latinate suffixes do. –fie suffixation is an example of class-changing derivation. As regards prefixes, we have already observed that the only combination of G+NG is found in Medicine (ouerclose). All instances of a Germanic base combined with a Germanic prefix have been encountered in Astronomy (85 in all), which would seem to contradict the general tendency in scientific discourse to use Latinate forms. However, this may be due to the fact that they are all class-maintaining forms and, therefore, easily recognisable for the readership. There are 136 cases that illustrate the combination NG+NG; out of all of them, only 10 belong to the recipe compilation (including 4 instances of remeue and 2 of amenden). The NG+G combination does not occur anywhere in the samples of our corpus, further validating Moskowich’s (1995) idea that Scandinavian items were not perceived as foreign by English speakers in the Middle Ages. Some of the prefixes in our data are used exclusively with verbal bases. This is the case of de-, (Bauer 1983: 218) in distillen. Others (vnder- in vnderstonden, with- in withdrawen or for- in forgeten) have undergone a process of lexicalisation, in some cases reinforcement (Bauer, 1983: 56), already evident at the time our texts were produced. Re- is far more common with verbs (as in our examples refresschen, restoren, remeuen) than with nouns. Finally, though a-, be-, and en- are normally considered class-changing prefixes, our examples (assendith, beginne, beholde, behete, encressith) do not appear to confirm this tendency. In general, lexicon-increasing morphology demanded by socio-external conditions seems to correspond to the level of productivity of the vernacular. 191 Begoña Crespo & Isabel Moskowich Further research may confirm that grammatical constraints affect the outcome of certain morphological processes (Bauer 2004). 4. CONCLUDING REMARKS Word-formation processes have been considered here as one of the possible indicators of the degree of vernacularisation in English scientific writing at its very birth as a new register within the language. The derivational processes undergone by other word-classes such as nouns, the most abundant category in the so-called scientific register, have demonstrated that such vernacularisation was well underway at the time. Though less striking, results obtained with verbs also show that they too were adapting well in response to the need to transmit in the vernacular ideas and aspects of knowledge that had been always conveyed in Latin. General word-formation patterns do not seem to vary for this specific use of English. However, in reference to Tenor (type of readership) and Field (discipline), we have observed some peculiarities. Depending on the discipline examined, different etymological origins, combined in various ways, have been identified. Likewise, the use of native or non-native morphological elements in each of the three extracts corresponds with the different levels of literacy and education among their respective readerships. The variables we have considered (etymology, discipline and wordformation process) have proved to be valuable tools in assessing the degree of vernacularisation of early scientific English. Begoña Crespo & Isabel Moskowich University of Corunna REFERENCES 192 Medicine, Astronomy, Affixes & others Adams, V. 2001: Complex Words in English. Longman, Pearson Education Limited, Edinburgh. Alonso Almeida, F. forthcoming: A Middle English Medical Remedy Book from Glasgow University Library MS Hunter 185. Universitätsverlag C. Winter, Heidelberg. Barber, Ch. 1993: The English Language. A Historical Introduction. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. Bauer, L. 1983: English Word-Formation. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. Bauer, L. 2004: The function of Word-Formation and the InflectionDerivation Distinction. In Henk Aertsen, Mike Hannay & Rod Lyall (eds.) Words in their Places. A Festschrift for J. Lachlan Mackenzie. Vrije Universiteit, Amsterdam. 283-292. Beal, J. C. 2004: English in Modern Times. Arnold, London. Biber, D. 1995: Dimensions of Register Variation. A Cross-Linguistic Comparison. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. Burnley, D. 1992: Lexis and Semantics. In Norman Blake ed. The Cambridge History of the English Language. Vol. II. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. 409-499. Carstairs-McCarthy, A. 2002: An Introduction to English Morphology. Edinburgh University Press, Edinburgh. Dalton-Puffer, Ch. 1996: The French Influence on Middle English Morphology: a corpus-based study. Mouton de Gruyter, Berlin/New York. Fernández, F. 1982: Historia de la lengua inglesa. Gredos, Madrid. Halliday, M.A.K. 1978: Language as Social Semiotic: The Social Interpretation of Language and Meaning. Edward Arnold, Ltd., London. 193 Begoña Crespo & Isabel Moskowich Halliday, M.A.K. 1988: On the Language of Physical Science. 2004. In Webster, J. ed. 2004: The language of Science. The Collected Works of M.A.K. Halliday. Continuum, London/New York 140-158. Harley, H. 2006. English Words. A Linguistic Introduction. Blackwell, Oxford. Kastovsky, D. 1992: Semantics and Vocabulary. In Hogg, R. (ed.), The Cambridge History of the English Language, vol. I, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. 290-408 Kurath, H. & al. 1959-. Middle English Dictionary. http://ets.umdl.umich.edu/m/med/ Lyons, J. 1970: New Horizons in Linguistics. Penguin, Harmondsworth. Marchand, H. 1969: The Categories and Types of Present-Day English WordFormation. Beck, München. Matthews, P. H. 1974: Morphology. An Introduction to the Theory of WordStructure. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. Middle English Dictionary On-Line: http://ets.umdl.umich.edu/m/med/ Moskowich-Spiegel Fandiño, I. 1995: Language Contact and Language Change: The Danes in England. Revista Alicantina de Estudios Ingleses. 8: 139-153. Moskowich-Spiegel Fandiño, I. & B. Crespo García 2006, forthcoming: Lopwebbe and henne cresse: Morphological Aspects of the Scientific Register in Late Middle English. Studia Anglica Posnaniensia 42. Rissanen, Matti & al. 1991. The Helsinki Corpus of English Texts. Diachronic Part. Helsinki University Press, Helsinki. (Chaucer’s The Equatorie of the planetis). Sager, J. C., D. Dungworth, D. & P. F. Mcdonald 1980: English Special Languages. Principles and Practise in Science and Technology. Oscar Brandstetter Verlag, Wiesbaden. 194 Medicine, Astronomy, Affixes & others Scotton, C. M. 1993: Duelling Languages. Oxford University Press, Oxford. Skeat, W. W. ed. 1968: Geoffrey Chaucer’s A Treatise on the Astrolabe / addressed to his son Lowys. Edited from the Earliest Mss. published for The Early English Text Society by the Oxford University Press, Oxford. Taavitsainen, I. 2000: Science. The Chaucer Companion, ed. Peter Brown. Blackwells, Oxford. 378-396. Taavitsainen, I. 2004: Transferring Classical Discourse Conventions into the Vernacular. Medical and Scientific Writing in Late Medieval English, eds. Irma Taavitsainen & Päivi Pahta eds. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. 37-72. Voigts, Linda E. 1989. Scientific and medical books. Book Production and Publishing in Britain, 1375-1475, eds. Jeremy Griffiths & Derek Pearsall. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. 345-402. 195 Begoña Crespo & Isabel Moskowich Graph 1. Word counts and texts. 6,636 21,544 14,908 Remedy Book A strolabe Equatorie Graph 2. Discipline-based affixation 250 205 200 139 150 simple derivative 100 other mder 50 0 21 2,819 27 0 1,884 1 1 2 medicine astronomy 196 Medicine, Astronomy, Affixes & others Table 1. Types with more than fifty tokens Type Ben Taken Maken Setten Don Lien Hauen Sayen Drinken Stampen Knouen Clepen Finden Geuen Schauen Tokens 790 553 191 190 189 164 113 94 87 77 70 70 59 53 51 Table 2. The Etymology of Verbs Origin G G+G G+NG NG NG+NG NG+G CS UNK TOTAL Tokens 3,982 259 1 696 141 20 19 8 5,126 197 Begoña Crespo & Isabel Moskowich Table 3. Medicine Origin G G+G G+NG NG NG+NG NG+G CS UNK TOTAL Table 4. Astronomy Tokens 2,407 129 1 406 15 13 0 8 2,979 Origin G G+G G+NG NG NG+NG NG+G CS UNK TOTAL Tokens 575 130 0 290 126 7 19 0 2,147 Table 5. Word-formation processes Forms Simple % 91.74 Nonsimple 8.12 Process S Der Other Mder TOTAL 198 Tokens 4,703 226 196 1 5,126 % 91.74 4.4 3.82 0.01 Medicine, Astronomy, Affixes & others Table 6. Derivation in astronomy Process S= 1,884 tokens DER= 205 tokens OTHER= 57 tokens MDER Origin G G+G G+NG NG NG+NG NG+G UNK CS G G+G G+NG NG NG+NG NG+G UNK CS G G+G G+NG NG NG+NG NG+G UNK CS NG+NG 199 Tokens 1574 0 0 271 0 0 0 19 0 80 0 0 125 0 0 0 0 50 0 0 0 7 0 0 1 Begoña Crespo & Isabel Moskowich Table 7. Derivation in medicine Process S=2,819 DER=21 OTHER=139 MDER Origin G G+G G+NG NG NG+NG NG+G UNK CS G G+G G+NG NG NG+NG NG+G UNK CS G G+G G+NG NG NG+NG NG+G UNK CS NG+NG *†* 200 Tokens 2,405 0 0 406 0 0 8 0 0 5 1 0 15 0 0 0 2 124 0 0 0 13 0 0 0 MANUSCRIPT RELATIONS THROUGH FORM AND CONTENT IN THE MIDDLE ENGLISH CIRCA INSTANS1 Abstract This article aims at contributing to the history of the transmission of the Circa instans in England. Taking form and content as two important linking criteria among the extant Middle English exemplars of this wellknown medieval medical work, we offer here a classification and description of the different text-types and English versions of the treatise that have been identified so far. This study intends to give some insight into individual manuscript appearance and status in order to provide the reader with the necessary point of departure that will later allow for further and more detailed analyses of the relationships among the copies, such as for the future establishment of possible genealogical relations. Keywords: Manuscripts, Textual Transmission, Middle English, Circa instans, Medieval Medicine. Resumen Con este artículo se pretende aportar una contribución a la historia de la transmisión del Circa instans en Inglaterra. Ofrecemos aquí una clasificación y descripción de la tipología textual y de las distintas versiones inglesas identificadas hasta ahora, tomando forma y contenido como dos criterios relevantes de relación entre los manuscritos que se han conservado de este tratado médico medieval en inglés medio. Este estudio trata de aproximarnos a la apariencia y estatus de cada una de las copias, con el fin de ofrecer al lector el punto de partida necesario para futuros análisis detallados de las relaciones textuales y genealógicas entre ellas. Palabras clave: manuscritos, transmisión textual, Inglés Medio, Circa instans, medicina medieval. 1.- INTRODUCTION About the mid-twelfth century, the celebrated School of Medicine of Salerno was witness to the composition of a medical treatise of encyclopaedic layout, which dealt with the healing virtues of the plant, animal, and mineral drugs traditionally called ‘simples.’ Its entries were alphabetically arranged, albeit loosely, with only first initials following the expected order. This Liber de simplici medicina –attributed to the teaching physician Matthaeus Platearius2– 1 Grateful acknowledgement is here made to Peter M. Jones and Juan L. Carrillo, who kindly read earlier drafts of this article. 2 Johannes Platearius is mentioned in incunabula and Renaissance editions. Some confusion developed among the critics with Johannes and Matthaeus Platearius. On the authorship of the CI, see L. Choulant (1841: 291- Edurne Garrido-Anes, Selim 13 (2005-2006): 201—226 Edurne Garrido-Anes is more commonly known as Circa instans (CI), from the opening words of its prologue. The work originally described all its simples, beginning with their complexion, and following with the ailments for which they were prescribed, together with their method of administration. Besides, it supplied a variety of additional information concerning, for instance, the harvest time, the place of origin, the different types of the plant, animal, or mineral in question, and warnings against adulteration by fraudulent apothecaries. Although born in an academic context, De simplici medicina had an essentially practical and domestic purpose, which made it different from other scholarly products that exclusively discussed medicine from the speculative principles of natural philosophy. Thus, true as it may be that the CI was an authoritative reference work based on both the classical doctrine of the humours and the medieval theory of the medicinal degrees,3 the theoretical dimension was not prioritised. The importance and long-lasting influence of the work is now unequivocal. Many translations and adaptations have survived in Latin and a good number of other languages.4 These manuscripts and early printed books containing texts derived from De simplici medicina clearly evince that, during its process of diffusion and vernacularization, the Salernitan treatise underwent manifold changes both in its formal appearance and textual organisation, and in the selection of its contents. Notwithstanding that variation, its exemplars still constitute several relatively homogeneous groups that result from the diverse intentions with which every new witness of the work was written. Linguistic and extra-linguistic evidence have already confirmed the circulation 292), who attributed the CI to Matthaeus; S. Renzi (1852: 152); G. Camus (1886: 50-52); P. Dorveaux (1913: v-x); G. A. L. Sarton (1931: 241-242). 3 On these two doctrines, see respectively P. Laín Entralgo (1970) and M. R. McVaugh (1975). On the classical sources of the CI, see F. H. Holler (1940). 4 For a more exhaustive compilation of the relevant related bibliography concerning the CI in Latin and the medieval versions of French, German, Dutch, Catalan, Hebrew and other languages, see A. Cuna (1993) and E. Garrido-Anes (2005a). 202 The Middle English Circa Instans MSS of the CI all over England in both academic and non-academic circles from the thirteenth to the seventeenth century (Garrido-Anes 2005b). The present article develops from a preliminary approach to its extant Middle English (ME) manuscripts (Garrido-Anes 2004),5 all of which have been roughly dated to the fifteenth century (Voigts & Kurtz 2000). Including a few more texts and fragments identified with posteriority (Garrido-Anes 2005a), I now endeavour to offer a classification of all the known ME CI copies. The immediate purpose of this analysis is to give an overview of the different texttypes and versions that exist within the English branch of the work. The grouping and description of the copies, which are here arranged into different classes according to origin, form, content and function, intends to offer –from direct observation- some insight into individual manuscript appearance and status, and to contribute to the history of the transmission of the CI in England. Taking form and content as two important linking criteria among the exemplars, this study is also expected to provide with the necessary point of departure for further and more detailed analyses of the relationships among the copies, such as for the future establishment of genealogical relations. Some suspicion of close associations among specific manuscripts within each group has evolved from this approach. Nevertheless, any firm statement about it does require a further and much more minute analysis, a task which is outside the scope and aim of the present article. 2.- THE MIDDLE ENGLISH MANUSCRIPTS For the time being, we know of twenty-seven ME manuscripts6 that can be associated with the book on simple medicines in question.7 They are here 5 I am thankful to the Fundación Uriach de la Historia de la Medicina for encouraging me to build upon my 2004 article with further texts and more detailed descriptions of the manuscripts, the result of which I present here. 6 Of all the consulted catalogues, L. E. Voigts & P. D. Kurtz’s (2000) has been the most helpful tool for the compilation of CI copies. For a few other CI manuscripts or fragments identified later, see E. Garrido-Anes (2005a: 145-146). 203 Edurne Garrido-Anes divided into different types or classes that correspond to the epigraphs below. They have been assigned to one group among several within each type depending on their formal disposition and on their contents. In addition, the manuscripts are identified with a translation from which they have presumably derived (see table). Comparison with the Latin work seems to reveal the existence of three distinct English translations or compilations of the treatise.8 The three English renderings differ from each other in both style and diction, and in their treatment of the Salernitan core.9 One of these translations is represented by twenty-five out of the twenty-seven hitherto known manuscripts. Despite the abridgements or expansions that vary from one exemplar to the other, they all maintain the Latin CI as their main basis. A second translation10 survives in only one known manuscript, and has the 7 All these ME texts lack the Salernitan prologue which is found in other languages: Latin: “Circa instans negotium de simplicibus medicinis nostrum versatur propositum […].” (Platearius 1525: 223) French: “En ceste presente besogne est notre propos et intention de traicter des simples medecines […].” (Esposito 1919: 209) German: “In disseme keghenwertigen tractatu so habe wir willen zu redene von den eynveldigen arztyen […].” (Damm 1939: 21) Dutch: “Circa instans meninghe ghaet in simplen medicinen […].” (London, BL, Additional 70515, fol. 124) 8 For the twenty-nine Latin manuscripts consulted, see E. Garrido-Anes’s list (2005a: 144). The early printed editions of the Latin CI there cited (2005a: 141) have also been checked, due to their similarity with two of the English translations and with the Starkenstein manuscripts with which the printed texts have been associated (Anderson 1978). All Latin references have been taken from the Lyons 1525 edition. 9 For an explanation of the concept of Salernitan kernel, see F. H. Holler (1940). For references to studies on the different versions of the Latin CI, see E. Garrido-Anes (2004: 5-6; 2005a: 141). 10 Compare these two small fragments of translation 1 and 2 respectively: Aloe hath vertu to purge flewme and colore and hit clensith malenkoly, and hit comfortyth membres that beth senewy, þat hath mony senewis, ouþer beth of the kynd of senewis. Also, hit is good aȝeyn the superfluyte of kold humers þat beth in the stomake, and releuyþ þe hed of ache þat comyth of smoke of þe stomake. (CUL Ee. 1. 13, fol. 1r) Aloes purgys flewme and colore and clennys malencoly. Yt comfortis membrys þat be full of synus. It distrois superfluite of humors in þe stomak and helpis þe ache of þe hede. (Gonville & Caius 609/340, fol. 20r) 204 The Middle English Circa Instans MSS Salernitan book as its most important referent. A third English compilation11 is likewise found in a single copy, which merges Platearius’s work with some others, offering a De simplici medicina less easily recognizable. 2.1.- THE ME CIRCA INSTANS AS A VERNACULAR MEDICAL MANUAL Six of the English manuscripts,12 whose incipit is “Aloe is hot and dry,” present their text in a way that very much resembles the Latin treatise:13 11 Compare these two small fragments of translation 1 and 3 respectively. <Arnoglossa, i. plauntayn or warbrode is c. and d. in 2 g. Hit is gode to clanse and drie woundes with. Hit confortiþ þe liuer, and lettiþ þe sengles to goon aboute þe body. And hit is gode for þe emeroydes. Hit koliþ brennyng of fuir and abatiþ akyng. Hit is gode for hem þat han nose bledyng or dissenterie and for wymmen þat haue her termes to muche and to ofte, and for hem þat han þe emeroydes. And hit heliþ þe woundes of þe liȝt. Þe rote of plauntayn soþen in water aswagiþ ake of teþ if þe mouþ be wassche þerwiþ. Þe iuce of plauntayn is gode for opilacon of þe reynys, and hit duþ away blake spottes and tiles. But þe sede stompid is best þerto. For a wounde þat is neȝe þe nose or þe yen, do þerin wolle wet in þe iuce of plaunteyn and þe herbe stompid with swynys grece heliþ grene woundes. (Londres, BL Sloane 105, fol. 73v)>. <Arnoglossa. Wegebreyde. Arnoglossa or planteyn yt ys colde and drye in the iide degre and yt be .ii. spyces of them […] They be good to drye wondes & clense the stinking corrupcion yf you take the iuss mengeld wyth a littil aleopatic in puder. And yt confort the hert with water of endyff be soden inne. And put sugre therto, for yt ys a gentil manis drink in an hote cause, and the iusse of her with watter of endyff yf yt be stryketh vpon the region of the lyuer in like wyse, and yt don reproche the sacer ignis þat summe men called seynt antony ffyre […] Also yt ys good ayenste the emoroydes yf ye take the iusse of planteyn and þe puder of the rottys of aaron, and so yt don halle maner of hurttys that cumme hert and bernnyg […] Also, yt ys good for them that haue the passion þat ys called dyssenteria, and the fluxe of the belly and also ayenste the fluxe menstrual […] As Pandecta, Platearius. (Londres, BL Sloane 404, fols. 37v-38r)>. 12 See table, group A. 13 A typical entry of the CI as it was composed at Salerno would be like this: “De aloe. [Name]. Aloes calidum et siccum complexionis est in .ii. gradu. [Complexion]. Aloes ex succo herbe fit. Que herba suo nomine aloen appellatur. Hec autem herba non solum in India, Persia, et Grecia, verum etiam in Apulia repertitur. Aloes tria sunt genera: cicotrinum, epaticum, caballinum […]. Sophisticatur autem aloe hoc modo […]. [Additional information]. Aloen vero habet purgare coleram et flegmam et mundificat melancoliam. Habet etiam virtutem confortandi membra neruosa, vnde valet contra superfluitatem frigidorum humorum […]. Stomachum confortat, caput a dolore eleuat […]. Nota optimus aloe cum vino albo et aqua rosata confectus et in oculis iniectus pruriginem oculorum omnino aufert […]. [Virtues, recipe and method of administration].” (Platearius 1525: 223-224) 205 Edurne Garrido-Anes London, BL, Sloane 105, fols. 66r-100v is a small quarto volume written on paper in Anglicana script with no decoration. Some of its entries (asara baccara, altea, cerefolium, atriplex) do not appear in the printed Latin versions of the work, but they can be found in the longer CI of the Breslau Codex (see G. Camus 1886: 54). The text of this English manuscript looks very much like that of the Salernitan kernel, of which it is quite a literal and direct translation.14 This exemplar follows the Latin CI very closely, as far as internal organization and contents are concerned. Except for the suppression of references to authors and other minor omissions, there is not much editorial work by the translator or compiler of this version, which is unfortunately incomplete. The first part of the opening simple is missing, and the text ends abruptly in mirtus. BL, Egerton 2433, fols. 49r-54v is a large octavo on paper, written in a mixed type of Anglicana and Secretary scripts, with decorated initials and some paragraph marks in red. It presents the same translation as the previous one, and it also follows the scheme of subjects announced in the Latin prologue: name and nature of the medicine, quality, other features, and healing properties.15 However, it includes fewer simples under each letter, and it only reproduces extracts from each of them. The peculiarity of this version resides in that, as we read further on, the information for each simple becomes increasingly sketchy. It is also preserved incomplete, only up to laudanum. Sloane 770, fols. 45v-48v, a small quarto written on paper in a hybrid form of Anglicana and Secretary with red initials, offers a text with the same scheme and translation as the exemplars just described, covering only from 14 See table, translation 1. 15 Circa instans negocium […]. In tractatione vniuscuiusque medicine simplicis complexio rerum primo est intendenda consequenter vtrum sit arbor, an frutex, herba, radix, an flos, an semen, an folium, an lapis, an succus, an aliquid aliud postmodum quot sunt ipsius maneries, et qualiter fiant et in quo loco inueniantur, que etiam maneries sit melior, qualiter sophisticantur et sophisticate cognoscantur, et qualiter res conseruari possunt, et quas virtutes habeant, et qualiter debent exhiberi. (Platearius 1525: 223) 206 The Middle English Circa Instans MSS pome garnetis to zucarium, and omitting some simples beginning with P, all the R-and-S simples and some others that start with T and U. Cambridge, Gonville and Caius College 609/340, fols. 20r-45v is a small folio on paper, written in a combination of Anglicana and Secretary features, and is the only known text offering this English rendering.16 The manuscript is not decorated, and has many additions by other scribes. Its last pages are damaged and partly torn, so the text is also incomplete. It remains legible from aloe to verreyn, but it seems to end in zeduary. Its last pages are much torn and difficult to read. This text –entitled Circa instans according to a marginal annotation in its initial page– is largely based on the Salernitan treatise, which is often explicitly cited and followed word by word in the parts taken from it. This exemplar sometimes inserts untranslated sentences in Latin. It also omits fragments from the Salernitan work, which are nonetheless kept in other versions, and it includes new material in their stead. Many of these additions do not appear in the manuscripts with the first translation, but some are similar, though not identical, to fragments from the third one and from the Latin and French CI texts that came to be known as Tractatus de herbis.17 Sloane 404, fols. 2r-243r; 294r-319v is a small quarto on paper, copied in a Secretary hand. Paragraph marks are highlighted in red. It is the only known surviving English manuscript representative of this third translation and compilation.18 Even though the core of this compendium seems to be the CI, this manuscript offers much interpolated information from other sources, to which the text often alludes in the course of the chapters (Pandecta, Avicenna and Serapion). Its prologue and indexes inform of a classification of the 16 See table, translation 2. 17 This illustrated Tractatus de herbis was known in French as Arbolayre (Besançon: Peter Melinger, 1486, 1487, 1488), (Paris: Pierre Le Caron, ca. 1492, ca. 1498, 1550?); or as Grand Herbier (Paris: Alain Latrian & Danis Janot, 1500, 1545); it was ultimately translated into English as The Grete Herball (London: Peter Treveris, 1526, 1529), (London: Thomas Gybson, 1539), (London: John Kynge, 1561). 18 See table, translation 3. 207 Edurne Garrido-Anes simples into seven great parts, depending on whether they are: herbs in general; laxative or astringent herbs; aromatic spices; fruits, seeds, or roots; gums; salts, minerals or stones; and animals. This formal disposition is substantially different from the other English CI manuscripts but, to a certain extent, it reminds of the organization of one of the French branches of the work, which divides the text into five sections: herbs and flowers; trees and gums; metals and minerals; animal-derived medicines; and others (see M. Collins 2000: 283). However, Sloane 404 does not literally follow any of the French and Latin models with which it has been compared. It seems, rather, a different translation and, at the same time, a new rewriting or compilation (by itself, or copied from an unidentified manuscript) resulting from a great fusion of the CI with fragments from other works. This manuscript has not been preserved complete. The sixth, the seventh, and more than half of the fifth part are missing, but we know of their previous existence thanks to an index of chapters. It is interesting to highlight the fact that the first three parts of this compilation (herbs; laxative and astringent herbs; and aromatic spices) coincide with the plant classification given by the lists sometimes included in a Tractatus virtutibus herbarum attributed to Arnald of Villanova (MacKinney 1938: 258-259).19 Finally, Leeds, Brotherton Library, Ripon Cathedral XVIII. H. 1[2] fols. H6r-H6v has been here associated with the Sloane 105 translation. But even if it shares with it the theoretical description, it does not provide us with any therapeutic information. In fact, it consists only of two very small extracts taken from the very beginning of the chapters devoted to aloe and to aloe þe tre. They were very carelessly handwritten in the margins of the incunabulum of Pietro of Crescenzi’s Ruralia commoda, printed by Peter Drach in 1493. 19 The work Mackinney refers to may well be Macer Floridus’s, which often circulated under the name of Arnald of Villanova in Renaissance editions. I am grateful to P. Gil Sotres and J. A. Paniagua for their helpful comments on this matter. 208 The Middle English Circa Instans MSS Once medical compendia had been vernacularized, they were taken a step forward towards popularisation. When Latin was abandoned, those compilations became readily accessible to a larger number of people. The CI versions just mentioned provided a systematic description of the quality and degree of each simple, and this made them helpful handbooks for the personal use of university-trained physicians, especially when they began to work as medical practitioners. However, apart from them and the “poor scholars” (Getz 1990), the category of potential new readers would have also admitted laypeople in need of taking care of a sick person, like midwives, nuns or women from the upper classes. For all kinds of recipients, these copies would have served as self-help manuals or how-to books from which they could extract easy-to-prepare remedies.20 Nevertheless, the practical utility of the CI within the sphere of domestic medicine made the treatise prone to further simplification in the course of its transmission. The increasing simplicity that it achieved did not only consist in the translation of the work into different vernacular languages, thus enlarging the corpus of an incipient non-Latin Fachliteratur.21 It was also the result of a reorganization and reconsideration of its contents in the endeavour to make the work more functional and more accessible, so that it could be used in an effective, quick, and simple way. 2.2.- THE ME CIRCA INSTANS AS A REMEDY BOOK The CI-treatise or handbook in which these ME texts –like the Latin models– presented theory and practice together under each of the simples was no more than one of the possible ways in which the teachings of the 20 This charitable and domestic function is very clearly expressed in the prologue of the CI in BL Sloane 404, which is different from the Salernitan one: The prayours of gret nombre of povre peple that hade not thing to help them self, and be cause of that pouerte, the apotecariis reffuse them, and be cause […] suche medicins that longe to a seke body […] be ffound in priue places, as in gardyns wildernes and medowys […] Any man that wil helpe him selff may haue help with smale expenses ayenst of hall manere of sekenes […]. (fols. 2r-2v) 21 Prose associated with a technical or specialised register. See J. Stannard (1982). 209 Edurne Garrido-Anes Salernitan work were transmitted. A CI-remedy book also resulted from a reorganization of its contents. The text morphology and the information selected for transmission are also indicative parameters of the compilers and the scribes’ intention. Another series of ME manuscripts22 goes a step further towards simplicity, exclusively maintaining the most practical information, and removing all references to theory, authors and sources from the body of the text. Sometimes, this theoretical content was expunged from the work at once. This made the CI adopt the appearance of a remedy book, turning the work into a useful recipe collection not only for the apothecary responsible for providing the patients with medicines, but also for those who needed selfmedication. On other occasions, however, the compilers moved that theoretical basis from the main text to auxiliary ones. That is why those copies would still have been of interest to the doctor and apothecary needing the theoretical knowledge, even when the abridgement of the chapters put more emphasis on the practical content. “Aloe is hot and dry” is the incipit shared by a few of these manuscripts:23 Sloane 706, fols. 21r-89v, a small quarto on paper, written in a mixed type of Anglicana and Secretary script, with decorated red initials and paragraph marks highlighted in red; Sloane 1764, fols. 49r-112v, a small quarto on paper, displaying a combination of Anglicana and Secretary features, decorated with red initials; the names of the simples, given as chapter headings, appear in a more formal Textura script; Cambridge, Jesus College Q. D. 1, fols. 75v-121r, another small quarto on paper, written in an Anglicana hand, and containing decorated red initials; and Cambridge, Trinity College, R. 14. 32, fols. 128r129v, 8r-8v, 10v-11r, 18r-18v, 19r, 28r, 61r-64r. Its foliation is not a modern one, which suggests that the manuscript circulated like this from early times. It is an octavo on paper in an Anglicana hand. First-initials decoration seems to have been intended, but never accomplished. 22 See table, groups B and C. 23 See table, group B. 210 The Middle English Circa Instans MSS All these manuscripts begin with the name of the simple aloe followed by its quality, degree, some extra information, and the sicknesses it cures. However, this scheme is considerably simplified from the second simple onwards. Thus, the remaining chapters deal exclusively with the purely therapeutic information, omitting most of the other details that appeared, as a medical lesson, in the Latin and in the previously described models. The decision to reduce the amount of information found in the source treatise, and to copy only the practical details in all but the first simple, could have been made after the first entry was entirely written. Given the absence of Platearius’s prologue in the English manuscripts, this might simply be interpreted as an identifying strategy. That is, by copying the first entry, or at least its initial lines as found in the model, the scribes could have been highlighting the difference between this and other alphabetical books of simples. This would have allowed the association of the English versions with the CI and the Salernitan tradition in spite of the changes and alterations inherent to every new copy. These four manuscripts, which highlight the curative power of the simples by withdrawing the fragments dealing with medical theory, are very similar to another series of copies derived from the same translation. The main substantial difference between the former and those belonging to this new group24 is the fact that the latter directly and exclusively present the medicopractical content from the very first article. Therefore, “Aloe hath virtue to purge phlegm and choler” is the common incipit to: Cambridge, CUL Ee.1.13, fols. 1r-91v. The scribe’s handwriting of this octavo on paper is a combination of Anglicana and Secretary scripts, and initials are decorated in blue; Oxford, Bodleian Library, Ashmole 1477, fols. 114r-195v is a small folio on paper. It was written in a Secretary hand with some Anglicana features, and it includes red initials and occasional red paragraph marks or letters; Wellcome Library, London Medical Society 131, fols. 3r-56v is a small octavo on paper, with no 24 See table, group C. 211 Edurne Garrido-Anes decoration or illustrative matter, and written in a kind of debased Textura script, which was a typical university book hand; BL, Additional 29301, fols. 64v-89r, copied in a semi-quadrata formata Textura script, is a beautiful folio volume, on vellum, with a few illuminated borders, blue initials and red ornaments. The CI text of these manuscripts is basically the same as the one offered by the previous set of copies, differing from them only in their beginning. This last set of manuscripts places its emphasis on the sicknesses against which those medicines are effective. Any sporadic allusion to qualities and degrees in the text of any simple appears to be the result of the compiler or of the scribe’s inadvertency rather than a conscious inclusion of that specific piece of information, which is otherwise systematically removed throughout the work. Another four manuscripts also belong to this category of CI as a remedy book. However, they have not been assigned by their incipit to any of the two former groups,25 either because they are acephalous texts, or because they begin with a simple different from aloe. They are: Sloane 635, fols. 35r-69v. This manuscript, much damaged by damp, is a small oblong folio written on paper. The body of the text was copied in an Anglicana script alongside Textura chapter headings; Sloane 1088, fols. 1a-60b is a small quarto on vellum written in a semi-quadrata Textura script with no decoration; Ashmole 1481 is a small folio on vellum, copied in a mixed type of Anglicana and Secretary scripts. Space was left for decorated initials, but the task was never finished. The CI text appears in the manuscript in two separately bound sections: one going from ciclamen to ruibarbarum (fols. 64r-83v); and the other, from the final lines of ruibarbarum and the beginning of rubea maior to zuccarum (fols. 44r-49r). This same manuscript contains also a list of sicknesses based on the CI (fols. 54r-63v). A fourth manuscript, Sloane 297, fols. 72r-78v26 presents isolated recipes that reproduce only extracts from the CI. It is a small folio, on 25 See table, group ‘B or C.’ 26 See table, group D. 212 The Middle English Circa Instans MSS paper, written in a Secretary script with some Anglicana features. Space was left for decorated initials. When the ME copies did not offer those theoretical contents, they changed the CI, though only formally, from being an example of technical specialized literature in the vernacular into a remedy book, which is a format generally associated with the concept of Rezeptliteratur.27 However, educated and well-instructed readers would still have recognized the academic origin of these medical recipes. The explanation for the removal of the theoretical information can be found in some of those same manuscripts. It becomes apparent that their medieval compilers or scribes had decided to subtract that information from the body of the text in order to present it, more conveniently, before or after the remedies, or even to transmit it independently of them in the manner of indexes, tables and concordances. 2.3.- THE ME CIRCA INSTANS FOR QUICK AND EASY REFERENCE The most obvious technique used by scribes and compilers to make the information more easily available to readers was the alphabetical display of the simples. The majority of the consulted Latin manuscripts also include tables of contents that list all the medicines later dealt with in the treatise, allowing for quick finding. Instead of presenting them all together from A to Z, these CI copies usually have fragmented indexes. That is, each set of simples with the same initial is preceded by its own index, which consists exclusively of the articles beginning with that letter. This organization is shared by the printed Latin editions and by some of the CI versions in other languages. As an alternative to these separate tables of contents distributed all throughout the work, certain CI copies have only one complete list from A to Z at the very beginning or at the very end of the work. Thus, some manuscripts include a chapter index: “Here begynneth the chyapitre of herbes 27 In opposition to Fachliteratur. See J. Stannard (1982); F. Alonso-Almeida & R. Carroll (2003). 213 Edurne Garrido-Anes be ordor after the Alphabet” (Sloane 404, fol. 3v). Others attach three different kinds of auxiliary texts: tables of complexions (alphabeti or tabula nominorum, which give the Latin name of the simple plus its translation into English, and sometimes other vernacular synonyms); tables of remedies; and tables of concordances. These aiding tools appear also in some of the edited French and Dutch manuscripts, and there are a few examples among the examined Latin exemplars: there is a De simplicibus medicinalibus cum tabula in Sloane 420, fols. 184a-247b; and Cambridge, Trinity College O.9.10, fols. 137r-140v is a table of degrees and virtues kept separately from the treatise. BL Add. 29301 and Sloane 706 include all the possible forms in which the information contained in the CI was reorganized and distributed in its ME versions. The former begins with a tabula nominorum that precedes the presentation of the CI as an easy-to-use remedy book. This tabula provides the name of the simples, together with their degree of heat or moistness (fols. 55r-58v): “Argentum uiuum. Quick siluer is hote and m. in þe .i. degree” (fol. 55r). After that, there comes a table of remedies, in which the simples are followed by the diseases they cure (fols. 58v-64v): “Argentum uiuum. Ffor lysse and for scabbe” (fol. 58v). In the case of Sloane 706, a table of concordances comes right after the remedies to help the reader to find quickly the simples or sicknesses in the pages where they are discussed: “A concordance of þe book aforseyd” (fols. 89v-91v). After this, there is a table of complexions: “A tabyle after þe abece of dyuers erbis and certayne gummes and some of metalles and of stones whos vertues in yt þai seruen to medecynes. Here þai be declarede in þe booke and here compleccions be sette here for redynes” (fols. 91v-93v). Sloane 1764 offers a very similar structure. Its ME CI text is likewise followed by the concordances (fols. 113r-114v), but the table of complexions comes before the medical recipes: “Here begynneth a table after þe abece of diuerse herbes and certeyn gummes and some of metalles and of stones whos vertues in þat þey 214 The Middle English Circa Instans MSS seruen to medicines. Here þey ben declared in þe book followynge. And here complecions ben sette here for redynesse” (fols. 47r-49r). These quick-reference tables sometimes served as a complement to the text from which the information provided in them had been subtracted. On those occasions, the theoretical basis was not lost, but only moved from the main text to auxiliary ones. For practical reasons, the contents were arranged in a different way. Other times, however, the extracted parts were transmitted independently. This is the case of another group of manuscripts. In them, the CI, reduced to tables of complexions, does not include any therapeutic information. Their text supplies no more than a very brief description of the simple, which is preceded by its Latin term, by its vernacular equivalent, and, occasionally, by other synonyms, serving thus the function of a glossary or dictionary. The ME manuscripts belonging to this group differ from one another in the number of simples and in the formal disposition of the text on the page. According to this, they can be further divided into several subgroups. The first one28 consists of London, Wellcome Library 397, fols. 71r-86r; Glasgow, University Library, Hunter 95 (T. 4.12), fols. 158r-163v; Hunter 307 (U. 7. 1), fols. 167r-172v; and “A Table of the Exposyssion of Names” in Bodleian Library, Bodley 178, fols. 152r-155v. The simples in these manuscripts are presented in lists of entries, which are arranged in two columns and separated by changes of paragraph. The second subgroup29 includes CUL Kk. 6. 33, III, fols. 12r-12v; Sloane 71, fols. 86r-109v; and New York Academy of Medicine 13, fols. 189v-194v. These manuscripts provide a linear enumeration of the simples highlighting every new entry with some textual mark, be it by means of underlining, be it by changing the ink colour, but not necessarily with a change of paragraph. 28 See table, group E (1). 29 See table, group E (2). 215 Edurne Garrido-Anes The lists in these manuscripts occupy the entire page or column width. In addition, they all coincide in form and content with the initial tables in BL Add. 29301, Sloane 706, and Sloane 1764, except for Ashmole 1443, pp. 87190,30 which begins in absinthium and not in aloe, and which develops further the text of some simples. The only simple to which all these copies devote more space is, again, aloe. Its description, as opposed to most others, always includes the information from the Latin versions concerning complexion, place of provenance, and types, up to “the lasse bitter it is and the swetter sauoure that it hath, the better it ys” (Wellcome 397, fol. 71r). This seems to support the hypothesis that the longer text for aloe is an identifying strategy. The rest of the entries are as simplified as the one that follows: “Aurum is gold, most temperat of all metalles. Asa fetida is hoote and drye in the first degree and yt ys the gumme of a tre. And the moore yt stinkiþ, the better yt is” (Wellcome 397, fol. 71r). Sloane 297, fols. 14r-23v31 also distributed the information in the manner of lists. The ME CI in this exemplar was copied, read, and very much worked upon. Like some of the previously mentioned manuscripts, it consisted initially of an index from A to Z, where the names of the simples and their complexions filled the entire page width. In different ink, although in the same hand, the therapeutic properties that appear in between lines, in the margins, or wherever there was space, seem to have been added later. The manuscript text in this copy starts with a list from A to Z (fols. 14r-19r), after which we can read a few remedies based on simples that begin with the letter C (caparus, camedreos, cuminum). Then, the list is copied again from the very beginning, but this time in a more orderly way, producing, as a result, a table of complexions that ends in passule (fols. 20r-23v), and which is completed with later additions on the curative effects of the simples. This manuscript, written in an informal Secretary hand with some Anglicana features, may have 30 See table, group E (3). 31 See table, group E (4). 216 The Middle English Circa Instans MSS been a student or a doctor’s notebook. It appears to be a disorderly copy by somebody working, at the same time, with a CI table of complexions and a CI remedy book. All these annotations –written horizontally and vertically throughout the pages– give the manuscript quite an untidy aspect, which reminds us of the working drafts of someone who, while studying with the help of an outline, adds to the corresponding points the ideas that he remembers or wants to remember. The indexes, tables, and concordances that result from the De simplici medicina bring us closer to the origin of these kinds of tools that helped the reader in the use and the study of the scientific information contained in the work. With a didactic and clarifying function, especially as far as technical terms of Greek and Latin origin were concerned, they were very much used in medical compendia as well as in all sorts of practical reference works. Like other contemporary and later compendia of the same kind, the CI became a very widely used scientific dictionary. The independent transmission of these complementary texts, also in different hands and formats, may have been quite common, and would have been especially helpful. The lists of synonyms played an important conciliatory role between medicine and pharmacy.32 Physicians, doctors, apothecaries, and less educated readers used them in the hope of minimizing the confusions caused by the different names by which the same simple was known. Some of these lists also served as summaries or epitomes of the CI theoretical basis. 3.- CONCLUSIONS The CI teachings were rooted in classical medicine and in the practical doctrines of the prestigious School of Salerno. Like John of Gaddesden’s Rosa 32 Other glossaries were: the Salernitan Alphita, Mirfield’s Synonyma Bartholomei (end of 14thc.), and the Antebalumina galieni or Quid pro quo, where alternative replacements for certain simples could be found (Mackinney 1938: 260-266). For more information about the diffusion of Salernitan botany in England, see J. Stannard (1964: 357). 217 Edurne Garrido-Anes Anglica and other medical compendia, this treatise on simple medicines intended to reach both academic and non-academic spheres: “Gaddesden wrote his book in Latin, and directed it explicitly to surgeons and physicians, both poor and rich. This is in itself interesting. Surgery was not taught formally at Oxford or Cambridge and this suggests that Gaddesden was addressing an audience in Latin outside the formal teaching of the University” (Getz 1998: 42). By the end of the fourteenth century, the London priest John of Mirfield compiled in Latin his Breviarium Bartholomei, aiming at allowing “readers to medicate themselves, especially in the case of those diseases that were curable and not too serious” (Getz 1998: 51), an intention that coincides with that of the CI prologue in Sloane 404. If “medieval medical practice embraced men and women, serfs and free people, Christians and nonChristians, academics and tradespeople, the wealthy and the poor, the educated and those ignorant of formal learning” (1998: 5), the copies of medical works in vernacular languages must, then, have enjoyed a very wide acceptance as self-help books: not only among physicians and medical practitioners in general –who would have found the English versions useful even if they had been trained at University and knew Latin–, but also among a larger readership not necessarily expert. Indeed, the basic ability to read and write, not Latin but the vernacular, was already quite common in virtually all the social spheres in fifteenth-century England (Orme 1973, 1989; Clanchy 1993). Apart from the obvious interest that these medico-botanical works provoked in physicians, surgeons, apothecaries, and churchmen,33 Brodin stated: “if we may judge from the evidence in literature, it seems probable nuns and women of the upper classes were among those who used these herbals” (1950: 11). We know that the CI was in the hands of noblemen and noblewomen in France,34 33 For more specific references to the owners of these manuscripts, see E. Garrido-Anes (2005b) and P. M. Jones (forthcoming). 34 See M. Collins (2000) and J. M. López Piñero & al. (2000 & 2001). 218 The Middle English Circa Instans MSS and the illuminated BL Add. 29301 codex points to the fact that that was also the case in England (Garrido-Anes 2004: 13).35 Its popularity and domestic character would have made it possible for it to reach also a non-aristocratic female audience: “All women were expected to know something of family medicine, and it is noticeable that there existed various treatises on diseases of women specially written or translated for their use, with the plain assumption that they will be able to read” (Power 1975: 78). The presence in the community of a single person able to read English would have allowed even the illiterati to become familiar with these translations by means of oral transmission. The prologues of romances and of all other sorts of popular works in prose and verse often encouraged oral delivery with the real or rhetorical purpose of reaching and instructing the poor and the uneducated. This happened also with works that dealt with science and medicine: “[Because] women of our tongue do better read and understand this language than any other, and every women lettered read it to other unlettered and help them and counsel them in their maladies withouten showing their disease to man, I have this drawn and written in English” (Power 1975: 788).36 We cannot assess the exact extent to which these exhortations -like that in prologue of the ME CI in Sloane 404- to reach the poor and the least instructed men and women were actually put in practice. It is nonetheless possible to confirm that the chances for this to take place increased with vernacularization. As it had already happened with Wyclif’s translation of the Bible, “maad that alle puples schulden knowe it” (Forshall & Madden 1850: 56), early translators “expressed misgivings about bringing physic to the wider audience that a vernacular readership implied. But they also expressed the belief that learned medicine itself would be helpful to a large number of people” (Getz 1990: 8-9). 35 In this manuscript, we can read that “þe Countesse of Hennawd […] che send þe copy to here douter (Philippa) qwen of England” (fol. 94r). 36 See this prologue to the ME translation of the text attributed to Trotula (“The Knowing of Woman’s Kind in Childing”), in J. Wogan-Browne & al. (1999: 157-159). 219 Edurne Garrido-Anes It seems, then, that the functions performed by the CI manuscripts in England were not completely disconnected from the docere, movere and delectare associated with medieval rhetoric. We can speak of docere, because of their clear didactic purpose concerning the healing properties of the simples. The CI and other translated medical works had, as expressed by the fourteenth-century Dominican Henry Daniel, a benevolent and charitable intention: “‘the more openly taught something is, the more people will take it seriously.’ English, for Daniel and for other vernacular translators, was not only a tool for teaching and openness, but also a rhetorical aid to persuade the reader of the usefulness of this type of medicine” (Getz 1998: 86). This persuasive function (movere) is also present in the CI manuscripts that contain remedies to alleviate and heal, in which imperative formulas and efficacy phrases were often used to convince the reader of the benefit of the simples.37 Finally, delectare, though obviously not intended by Platearius or by any of the early compilers, became a purpose that many later decorated and illuminated manuscripts of the CI aimed to achieve. They were authentic works of art that caught the noblemen’s attention at court, and that have continued to please everyone who looks at them.38 On its long journey from Salerno to England and other parts of the Continent, the extraordinarily dynamic character of the diffusion of the Liber de simplici medicina – with its different forms and uses – shows its recipients’ active implication during the whole course of its transmission. Judging from 37 Some examples are: “[Filipendula] it is a souerayne medicine” (CUL, Ee.1.13, fol. 41v); “A suppositorie mad of klen sal gemme worchiþ wonderlich” (fol. 86r). 38 As stated by K. M. Reeds (1991: 145), it was not very likely to find university teachers or students owning or working with illustrated botanical treatises. On the one hand, because most of the plant drawings included, which had earlier appeared with a didactic purpose, progressively turned into decorative items of little or no help at all for plan identification. On the other hand, because the pecia system of massive transmission of books made it impossible and extremely costly to include many illuminated capitals and illustrations. Only bibliophiles from the upper classes would have been able to afford such exemplars, which they kept as works of art. For the description of some illustrated and illuminated CI manuscripts in languages other than English, see M. Collins (2000). 220 The Middle English Circa Instans MSS the many and varied exemplars preserved, its popularity in England was not at all inferior to that attained in other places. An overview of all its known ME texts shows how their different forms did indeed contribute to perpetuate, complete, condense and transmit Platearius’s CI. Given the simplicity with which contents were explained and organized, the ME CI texts, with their ability to summarize the most important information, certainly complied with all the requisites to be regarded as excellent manuals of their time. The English CI also exerted a direct or indirect influence upon other contemporary compilations like a small medical book preserved in London, BL, Sloane 3866, which “conflated excerpts from the Middle English Macer that was edited by Gösta Frisk in 1949, and a version of the unedited vernacular translation of Circa instans.” (See G. R. Keiser 1996: 37). The Salernitan CI was born in the south of what today constitutes the Italian peninsula. Aided by the for a long time uninterrupted labour of translators, copyists and readers, this work succeeded in expanding its influence over a wide geographical area throughout which it kept on changing and taking up different shapes over the course of the centuries. The ME CI books were found not only in practical octavo or quarto volumes, which could be easily carried as vade mecum, but also in larger formats to be used on desks. Similarly, they were written in both Anglicana and Secretary hands, which allowed for speed and ease of writing and which were used for cheaper books, as well as in more calligraphic and elaborate Textura scripts for more costly exemplars (see M. B. Parkes 1969). As the work drew material from further sources, and as it kept being copied for one purpose or another, the Liber de simplici medicina – sometimes with a clear functional intention, sometimes with a more decorative and artistic character – adopted a great variety of forms and sizes. This, however, did not erase the trace of its origin, and thus, we are still able to find a clear bond among all the texts here referred, and can certainly call them the heirs of Platearius’s CI. 221 Edurne Garrido-Anes Edurne Garrido-Anes University of Huelva 222 The Middle English Circa Instans MSS 4. TABLE OF MANUSCRIPTS Translation 1 Sloane 105, fols. 66r-100v. Egerton 2433, fols. 49r54v. Sloane 770, fols. 45v-48v. Ripon Cathedral XVIII. H. 1 [2] fol. H6r-H6v. Sloane 706, fols. 21r-89v. Sloane 1764, fols. 49r112v. Cambridge, Jesus College, Q.D.1, fols. 75v-121r. Cambridge, Trinity Coll. R. 14. 32, fols. 128r-129v, 8r, 8v, 10v, 11r, 18r, 18v, 19r, 28r, 61r-64r. CUL Ee. 1.13, fols. 1-91v Ashmole 1477, fols. 114r195v. Wellcome, Med. Soc. 131, fols. 3r-56v. BL Add. 29301, fols. 64vb-89r. Sloane 635, fols. 35r-69v. Sloane 1088, fols. 1a-60b. Ashmole 1481, fols. 64r83v; 44r-49r; 54r-63v. Sloane 297, fols. 72r-78v. Wellcome 397, fols. 71r86r Hunter 95, T.4-12, fols. 158r-163v. Hunter 307, U.7.1, fols. 167r-172v. Bodley 178, fols. 152r155v. BL Add. 29.301, fols. 55r58va; 58vb-64vb. Sloane 706, fols. 89v-91v; 91v-93v. Sloane 1764, fols. 47r-49r; 113r-114v. Translation 2 Gonville and Caius 609/340, fols. 20r45v Translation 3 Type Group Treatise/ Manual A Sloane 404, fols. 2r-243r; 294r319v. B Remedy book C BóC D E Tables F CUL Kk.6.33, III, fols. 12r-12v. Sloane 71, fols. 86r-109v. New York Academy of Medicine 13, fols. 189v194v. Ashmole 1443, pp. 87190. Sloane 297, fols. 14r-23v. G H 223 Edurne Garrido-Anes REFERENCES Alonso Almeida, F. & R. Carroll 2003: Popular or Learned? Noch einmal the Question of Tradition and Indexing of Medieval English Medical Recipes. Paper delivered at SELIM XV. Universidad de Murcia, 2-4 October, 2003. Anderson, F. J. 1978: New Light on Circa instans. Pharmacy in History 20/2: 65-68. Brodin, G. 1950: Agnus Castus. A Middle English Herbal Reconstructed from Various Manuscripts. Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksells. Camus, G. 1886: L’Opera Salernitana “Circa instans” ed il testo primitivo del “Grant Herbier en Francoys” secondo due codici del secolo XV, conservati nella Regia Biblioteca Estense. Modena: Accademia di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti, Società Tipografica. Choulant, L. 1841: Geschichte und Literatur der Älteren Medizin. Handbuch der Bücherkunde für die Ältere Medizin. Leipzig: Leopold Voss. Clanchy, M. T. 1993: From Memory to Written Record. England 1066-1307. Oxford: Blackwell. Collins, M. 2000: Medieval Herbals: The Illustrative Traditions. London: The British Library; Toronto: The University of Toronto Press. Cuna, A. 1993: Per una bibliografia della Scuola Medica Salernitana. Secoli XIXIII. Napoli: Guerini e Associati. Damm, W. 1939: Die einzige bisher bekannte deutsche Fassung des Buches Circa instans (De simplicibus) nach einer Handschrift des 15. Jahrhunderts. (Leipzig, Universitätsbibliothek Nr. 1224). Diss. Berlin. Hamburg: A. Preilipper. Dorveaux, P. 1913: Le livre des simples médecines: traduction française du Liber de simplici medicina dictus Circa instans de Platearius tirée d’un manuscrit 224 The Middle English Circa Instans MSS du XIIIe siècle (MS 3113 de la Bibliothèque Ste. Geneviève de Paris et publiée pour la première fois). Paris: Société Française d’Histoire de la Médecine. Esposito, M. 1919: The ‘Secrets of Salerno’: An Ancient French Manuscript. Proceedings of the Royal Academy 35/C/3: 208-213. Forshall, J. & F. Madden. 1850: The Holy Bible Containing the Old and New Testaments, with the Apocryphal Books, in the earliest English Versions Made from the Latin Vulgate by John Wycliffe and his followers. vol. 1, cap. XV. Oxford: OUP. Garrido-Anes, E. 2004: Transmisión, vernacularización y usos del Liber de simplici medicina: las versiones del Circa instans en inglés medio. Medicina e Historia 2, cuarta época: 1-15. Garrido-Anes, E. 2005a: Addenda al listado de manuscritos del Circa instans preservados en bibliotecas británicas. Cronos: Cuadernos Valencianos de Historia de la Medicina y de la Ciencia 8: 139-146 Garrido-Anes, E. 2005b: Geographical and Dialectal Distribution of Platearius’s Liber de simplici medicina in England. International Journal of English Studies (IJES) 5/2: 93-114. Getz, F. M. 1998: Medicine in the English Middle Ages. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Getz, F. M. 1990: Charity, Translation and the Language of Medical Learning in Medieval England. Bulletin of the History of Medicine 64: 117. Holler, F. H. 1940: Das Arzneidrogenbuch in der Salernitanischen Handschrift der Breslauer Stadtbibliothek (Nr. 1302). Würzburg: K. Triltsch. Jones, P. M. forthcoming: Herbs and the Medieval Surgeon. Health and Healing in the Medieval Garden. Eds. P. Dendle & A. Touwaide. Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer. 225 Edurne Garrido-Anes Keiser, G. R. 1996: Reconstructing Robert Thornton’s Herbal. Medium Aevum 65/1: 35-53. Laín Entralgo, P. 1970: La medicina hipocrática. Madrid: Revista de Occidente. López Piñero, J. M., N. Elaguina, C. Miranda García & M. L. López Terrada. 2000: Matthaeus Platearius. Le livre des herbes et de tous arbres, et les mides et metans, les pierres et bestes. Barcelona: M. Moleiro. López Piñero, J. M., N. Elaguina, C. Miranda García & M. L. López Terrada. 2001: Le livre des simples médecines. Trad. al inglés de A. Barton de Mayor. Barcelona: M. Moleiro. MacKinney, L. 1938: Medieval Medical Dictionaries and Glossaries. Medieval and Historiographical Essays in Honor of James Wetfall Thompson. Eds. J.L. Cate & E.N. Anderson. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. McVaugh, M. R. 1975: The Development of Medieval Pharmaceutical Theory. Arnaldi de Villanova. Opera Medica Omnia II. Aphorismi de Gradibus. Granada & Barcelona: Tobella: 1-136. Orme, N. 1973: English Schools in the Middle Ages. London: Methuen. Orme, N. 1989: Education and Society in Medieval and Renaissance England. London & Ronceverte: Hambledon Press. Parkes, M. B. 1969: English Cursive Book Hands 1250-1500. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Platearius, Matthaeus 1525: Liber de simplici medicina secundum Platearium dictus Circa instans. Cum Yuhanna Ibn Serapion. Practica Io. Serapionis dicta Breviarium. Lugduni (Lyons): Per Iacobum Myt. Power, E. 1975: Medieval Women. Ed. M. M. Postan. Cambridge: CUP. 226 The Middle English Circa Instans MSS Reeds, K. M. 1991: Botany in Medieval and Renaissance Universities. New York & London: Garland. Renzi, S. 1852: Collectio Salernitana: ossia documenti inediti e tratatti di medicina appartenenti alla Scuola Medica Salernitana. Napoli: FiliatreSebezio. Sarton, G. A. L. 1931: Introduction to the History of Science. Vol. 2.1. Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins Co., for the Carnegie Institution of Washington. Stannard, J. 1964: A Fifteenth-Century Botanical Glossary. ISIS 55/3: 353-367. Stannard, J. 1982: Rezeptliteratur as Fachliteratur. Studies on Medieval Fachliteratur. Scripta 6: 59-73. (Brussels: Omirel) Voigts, L. E. & Kurtz, P. D. 2000: Scientific and Medical Writings in Old and Middle English: An Electronic Reference. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Wogan-Browne, J., Watson, N., Taylor, A. & R. Evans. 1999: The Idea of the Vernacular. An Anthology of Middle English Literary Theory. University Park (PA): The Pennsylvania State University Press. *†* 227 NEW CONTEXTS FOR THE CLASSICS: WANDERERS AND REVOLUTIONARIES IN THE TALES OF THE FRANKLIN AND THE CLERK.1 Abstract This paper attempts to compare the treatment and behaviour of female protagonists in two Chaucerian texts with later representations of feminine independence and self-assertion, particularly in Fanny Burney’s novel The Wanderer (1814) and Maria Edgeworth’s The Modern Griselda (1805), a rewriting of the Clerk’s Tale. Recent fiminist criticism on Chaucer and the early nineteenth-century scene will be taken as references to read some sections of these texts about marriage and female freedom. I will try to show how both Doringen and Griselda denounced the constraints imposed by patriarchy and lived in a world as debilitating for women as early nineteenth-century Engliosh society. Keywords: Chaucer, Canterbury Tales, Franklin’s Tale, Clerk’s Tale. Resumen Este artículo pretende comparar el tratamiento y comportamiento de las protagonistas femeninas en dos textos de Chaucer con representaciones posteriores de independencia y autoafirmación femenina, en concreto en la novela The Wanderer (1814) de Fanny Burney, y The Modern Griselda (1805) de Maria Edgeworth, siendo ésta una reescritura del “Cuento del Erudito”. Tomaremos como referencia a la reciente crítica feminista sobre el matrimonio y la libertad femenina. Intentaré demostrar cómo Dirigen y Griselda denunciaron las restricciones impuestas por el patriarcado y vivieron en un mundo debilitante para las mujeres como la sociedad inglesa del principios del siglo XIX. Palabras clave: Chaucer, Cuentos de Canterbury, Cuento del propietario, Cuento del escribano. 1. INTRODUCTION Much has been written about the diverse female protagonists in The Canterbury Tales since Kittredge’s influential and disputable essay “Chaucer’s 1 This work was presented at the “Seventeenth SELIM International Conference” (Universidade da Coruña, 29th September- 1st October 2005) and is based on the unpublished paper “El feminismo de Chaucer en el ‘Cuento del Erudito’” read at “Quinto Congreso de Literatura Española Contemporánea” (Universidade da Coruña, 19th -23rd April 2004). I would like to thank Rory J. Lynch, who kindly revised this paper and helped me to correct some minor mistakes. Carmen Mª Fernández Rodríguez Selim 13 (2005-2006): 227—250 Carmen Mª Fernández Rodríguez Marriage Group”.2 However, the greatness of a classic writer lies precisely in our ability to perceive a plurality of readings of one’s work and to relate it to other productions. Here I will analyse from a feminist perspective the tales of the Franklin and the Clerk by establishing a provocative dialogue with some British nineteenth-century texts. Of course, protest against patriarchy appears in all historical periods, but, as a student of English literature after the French Revolution, I wish to focus on the role of women in the two stories. The tales of the Franklin and the Clerk represent a challenge to traditional female images since their protagonists examine the natural and social order of the world at the same time as they expose injustice. As Dinshaw explains, Chaucer consciously played with gendered models of literary activity, associating acts of writing and signifying with the masculine (1989: 9). He was also aware of the patriarchal power structures that determine the position occupied by the sexes when they read as a man or as a woman (1989: 12). I will support this view by comparing Dorigen’s and Griselda’s domestic constraints with the ones depicted by eighteenth- and nineteenth-century British female writers who lived surrounded by conduct books and the pernicious cult of sensibility. This ideology was exposed, for example, in James Fordyce’s Sermons to Young Women (1766), Thomas Gisborne’s An Enquiry into the Duties of the Female Sex (1797) or Dr. John Gregory’s A Father’s Legacy to his Daughters (1774), and it insisted on passivity, chastity, sweetness and self-control in females. It was assumed that certain intellectual domains, such as science and philosophy, were masculine, and women were defined as the sister, the daughter or the wife of a man. As we will see, both tales contain subversive protagonists departing from this model and voicing the contradictions of freedom later exposed in feminist fiction by Fanny Burney, Maria Edgeworth or Mary Wollstonecraft, among many others. 2 He includes under this term the Franklin’s, the Clerk’s, the Merchant’s and the Wife of Bath’s Tale. Holman objects to this label because it avoids an analysis of the Tales themselves (1959: 240, see also Reiman 1963: 372). 230 Wanderers & Revolutionaries in the tales of the Franklin & the Clerk 2. MEDIEVAL FEMALE METAPHYSICS It is important to highlight that neither of Chaucer’s tales is original. Besides, the narrative frames highly condition our impression and evaluation of characters, especially if we turn to their narrators3and sources.4 In the ambiguous Franklin’s Tale, Chaucer introduces female virtue paradoxically wrestling with and protecting masculine honour, while social appearances and illusions play important roles. 3 Spearing explains why the narrative voice in The Canterbury Tales has attracted criticism so powerfully: Kittredge’s ideas appeared when dramatic monologue and the questionable narrator were regarded as crucial elements to study prose fiction and they contributed to new literary interpretations (2005: 104-6). The Franklin is a sanguine wealthy Epicurean at table while the Clerk is a cultivated man, and we find few positive judgements on the Franklin. Whereas Pearsall considers him a quiet person dominated by emotion (1985: 149), and Martin highlights his common sense (1990: 129), most criticism focuses on the Franklin’s attempt to seduce readers with his personality and story. He wants to imitate the Knight, and his egocentric behaviour is comparable with the Orleans Clerk’s one (Mathewson 1983: 35, Shoaf 1997: 246). As a proud character merely interested in appearances (Robertson 1974: 26), his speech is deliberately made to confound and he does not admit the complexity of human relationships (Aers 1980: 163-4). For Kittredge, his Tale is simply too elegant for him (1976: 210), and Carruthers notices that he is an expert in rhetoric (1981: 292). Furthermore, Chaucer uses the plural, positioning himself at the protagonists’ level, so that the reader identifies himself/herself with the Tale (Jill 1982: 135). 4 The Franklin’s Tale surpasses its sources in psychological realism. Chaucer took Boccaccio’s Il Filocolo (Nineteenth Day Fifth Tale), Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regnun Britanniae (where one character is called Arviragus and the magic element appears too), Breton lays, Saint Jerome’s Adversus Jovinianum (particularly the exempla of virgins and martyrs) and Kean de Meun’s Roman de la Rose (with an idealistic pact between spouses) (Bryan & Dempster 1959: 377-97, Aers 1980: 162, Cooper 1989: 234). Chaucer’s is only one rewriting of the prolific Griselda’s story, which was very popular and whose transmission has been well traced: Boccaccio rescued it from folklore and incorporated it to Decameron (Tenth Day Tenth Tale), then Petrarch translated the story into Latin in Epistola Seniles 17.3. This work and a thirteenth-century anonymous French translation called Livre Griseldis helped Chaucer in The Canterbury Tales. However, the English writer feminised Griselda and added a religious dimension not present in the sources (Bryan & Dempster 1959: 288-91, Dinshaw 1989: 132, Cooper 1989: 188-91). The narratives themselves admit their filiation: in the Prologue it is stated that the Clerk takes his narrative from Petrarch (lines 27-31), and the Franklin recognises having heard his story in Brittany (lines 714-5). 231 Carmen Mª Fernández Rodríguez A summary of the story shows how every character makes some sort of mistake. The Knight Arveragus marries Dorigen promising to be “Servant in love, lord in mariage” (line 793).5 However, shortly afterwards he departs to England to obtain honours and Dorigen becomes disconsolate (“She moorneth, waketh, waileth, fasteth, pleineth;/ Desir of his presence hir so destreineth/ That al this wide world she set at noght”, lines 819-21). One morning her admirer Aurelius confesses his love to her, who playfully answers that she would lie with him if the rocks of Brittany disappeared. Aurelius resorts to an Orleans Clerk who demands a thousand pounds to fulfil his goal, and Dorigen despairs when she sees the carefully prepared miracle. Arveragus comes back and tells her to fulfil her promise (“‘Ye shul youre trouthe holden, by my fay!’”, line 1474). However, Aurelius pities Dorigen, and, when the Clerk sees Aurelius’s gesture towards the lady, he has mercy on him. On the one hand, personal ambition masters Arveragus, who leaves his reputation in Dorigen’s hands after having promised souffrance to her, a concept defined as a “mutual tolerance, a positive and willing embrace of the will of another as a means to the strengthening of the bond of love” (Pearsall 1985: 160).6 On the other hand, the fulfilment of Aurelius’s selfish desire involves a woman’s adultery. It is Dorigen who becomes her own victim, the subject of ‘a culturally sanctioned rape’ (Raybin 1992: 76) while, if carefully analysed, her words are far from passive. There are some narrative gaps in the tale (nothing is said about what Arveragus was doing in England), and the 5 All citations will be to Jill Mann’s edition of The Canterbury Tales. 6 For many critics, Arveragus sacrifices the initial equality compromise on behalf of his public persona. When Dorigen explains to him the nature of her promise, his ego resents: “The husband who has attempted to initiate mutual and non-coercive love, orders his obedient but unwilling wife to subject herself to another male while he himself displays the unreflexive masculine egotism habitual in the traditional culture” (Aers 1980: 166). Chaucer parodies a literary convention (Phillips 2000: 289) and uses some of its features to comment how men and women transform institutions (Holman 1959: 246-7, 249). However, Dorigen does not behave like a typical courtly love woman: she wants to remain faithful, and Arveragus relies on her (Holman 1959: 247-8). 232 Wanderers & Revolutionaries in the tales of the Franklin & the Clerk promise between the spouses is never made public (Pearsall: 150). For Phillips, their union was atypical in medieval England: First, by its very act of questioning and discussing the unequal power relations between husband and wife; second, by its presentation of this as an attitude which men and women share: both sexes, it asserts, naturally desire liberty (268-9), and it is a man here who proposes that the husband’s right to require obedience should not be enforced (745-50); and thirdly, by reformulating the marital relationship as one best regarded as one of love and friendship (2000: 287). For David, characters simply make no sacrifices at all (1976: 190), and few critics defend Dorigen, who lacks patience and confuses illusion with reality (Pearsall 1985: 154). The tale offers a feminine point of view, and Arveragus is to blame for not having stayed at home (Thompson 1984: 170, 177). Martin thinks that she has the least freedom in the story: “She escapes the hortus conclusus and is excluded rather than enclosed” (1990: 130), whereas Raybin turns to the etymological sense of free and considers Dorigen as the most generous character. She triumphs over her lover’s vulgarity and her husband’s meanness since she forgives both, and Raybin goes further to assert: “queenlike, she rises above the vulgarity of her lover and the pettiness of her husband to lift them with her to a higher moral level...Dorigen is true generosity, the true nobility of spirit” (1992: 81). She affirms that she belongs to her husband (“‘Ne shal I nevere been untrewe wif/ In word ne werk, as fer as I have wit’”, lines 984-5) and, believing that the rocks will never move, she promises to be Aurelius’s lover if he completes a challenge: “Ye remoeve alle the rokkes, stoon by stoon,/ That they ne lette ship ne boot to goon” (lines 993-4). Her rash promise not only compromises her virtue but also creates some emotional imbalance (Mathewson 1983: 31). Dorigen is later appalled, and her convictions undermined, when nature, a symbol of the social order in the story, is altered by an illusion. In fact, she believes so strongly in Aurelius’s 233 Carmen Mª Fernández Rodríguez words that she never goes to the sea to check because she firmly believes him and thinks of committing suicide. Like The Clerk’s Tale, The Franklin’s Tale is a story about inconstancy and constraints to women’s will epitomised by the bleak Breton rock.7 Although Dorigen lacks philosophic learning,8 her polished rhetoric reveals a lot, as Baker points out: “Chaucer is able to convey graphically the internal struggle of Dorigen, illuminating her character, and at the same time to develop, by the use of these materials, the structure of his tale, epitomising and adumbrating the moral of the Franklin” (1961: 64). According to Phillips, Dorigen’s speech questions society, creation and even the Franklin who seems so honourable (2000: 289).9 The sea-coast becomes a locus for self-reflection and it provides the opportunity to attack patriarchal culture. Chaucer’s 7 Cooper is interested in how this symbol affects characters (1989: 239). Dorigen sees in the rocks her marriage’s solidity and firmness (David 1976: 187). They also stand for the fact that “Love cannot exist in a cage. To soar, the human spirit requires its liberty. Women, as well as men, need the obstacles to freedom, emblematized by the famous rocks of Brittany, be removed. Indeed, the key to understanding the message of the Franklin’s Tale lies in the removal of those black rocks, the tale’s central symbolic action. Chaucer tells much about love and marriage when he proposes so solid an obstacle to free passage may be made by simple magic to appear or disappear.” (Raybin 1992: 79) 8 Scholars never agree on Dorigen’s erudition. For Cooper, she uses philosophic terminology (1989: 243, also Sledd 1947: 42). Bachman maintains that Boethius’s language helps her to pose questions following logic (1977: 56-7) and at the same time to parody the Christian philosopher affirming the human side before the ideal world (1977: 60). There are several parallelisms between The Franklin’s Tale and De Consolatione Philosophiae: the Clerk alters what characters see just like philosophy distracts men, Aurelius feels as depressed as the protagonist of Boethius’s work and the Clerk knows beforehand Aurelius’s problem as if he had some superior power (Bachman 1977: 62-3). Roney openly attacks Dorigen’s erudition: because she is a woman, Dorigen is apparently not an appropriate object for moral reasoning. Yet she is the one who suffers the most, she is the one the authorities would sentence to death or defilement, and, of them all, she is the only real innocent... She is a wimp because, although she is highly educable, she has never learned how to mediate between conflicting ethical claims. The reason she has never learned is that, as a woman, all her life she has been systematically excluded from serious moral reasoning (1999: 24). 9 Bloomfield states that “This is the first example in Western literature of which I know where the terrible and the frightening aspects of nature lead a spectator to question God’s goodness...There’s no answer to Dorigen’s prayer and to the dilemma she faces” (1982: 189). 234 Wanderers & Revolutionaries in the tales of the Franklin & the Clerk audience must interpret the indirect criticism of Arveragus: Dorigen has the mark of consolation impressed on her and wants to know the meaning of evil, facing the senseless rocks symbolising oppression, which, like ideals, war or hunger destroy men in the sea: Se ye nat, Lord, how mankinde it destroyeth? An hundred thousand bodies of mankinde Han rokkes slain, al be they nat in minde; Which mankinde is so fair part of thy werk That thow it madest lik to thin owene merk. Thanne semed it ye hadde a greet chiertee Toward mankinde; but how thanne may it be That ye swich menes make it to destroyen? ― Whiche menes do no good, but evere anoyen (lines 876-84). She cannot comprehend Aurelius’s blind desire and condemns a male sexuality based merely on the satisfaction of lust: “What deintee sholde a man han in his lif/ For to go love another mannes wif,/ That hath hir body whan so that him liketh?’ (lines 1003-5). Her long speech to Fortune includes exempla on sacrificed virgins and humiliated wives (lines 1355-1456) expressing how she neither wants to sleep with Aurelius nor displease her husband. Dorigen also realises her mistake: she has gone too far and is at stake between two men. At the same time that she attacks the submission of women and vindicates a space of her own, she casts some doubt on the validity of masculine honour: But nathelees, yet have I levere lese My lif, than of my body have a shame, Or knowe myselven fals, or lese my name. And with my deeth I may be quit, ywis. Hath ther nat many a noble wif er this, And many a maide, yslain hirself, allas, Rather than with hir body doon trespas? (lines 1360-6). 235 Carmen Mª Fernández Rodríguez Her aware attitude can be related to the Dissenter Mary Wollstonecraft, who denounced in A Vindication of the Rights of Woman (1792),10 the fact that “understanding has been strictly denied to women; and instinct sublimated into wit and cunning, for the purposes of life has been substituted in its stead” (1975: 143). It also resembles Mary Hays’s views in The Memoirs of Emma Courtney (1796), whose protagonist likewise condemns females strictures: Why have I been rendered feeble and delicate by bodily constraint and fastidious by artificial refinement? Why are we bound, by habits of society, as with an adamantine chain? Why do we suffer ourselves to be confined within a magic circle without claiming, by a magnanimous effort, to disolve [sic] the barbarous spell? (1974: 55). Dorigen’s voice is more conservative than it seems and can be interpreted as a parody against rebellious women. In order to explain my view, I wish to refer in particular to Fanny Burney’s novel, The Wanderer (1814), whose coprotagonist, Elinor Joddrel, parallels Dorigen in this sense. The author, Fanny Burney (1752-1840), appeared in English literature with the anonymous novel Evelina (1778) which made her instantly famous and was followed by Cecilia (1782) and Camilla (1796). Her last work, The Wanderer, was written after her exile in France and it depicts how a woman secretly married to a brutal officer of the French Revolution arrives in England stripped of the protection of a family and social position. Juliet holds several jobs (seamstress, milliner and shopkeeper) and pursues self-independence. In England, she meets Albert Harleigh, a man of true feeling in the sentimental tradition and also pursued by Elinor Joddrel, Juliet’s opponent in The Wanderer. This young genuine Republican and free-thinker embraces radical politics and openly declares her passion for Harleigh facing a refusal on his part. 10 Lorenzo’s (2004) perceptive introduction to the Galician translation of Vindication gives a detailed account of Wollstonecraft’s life and works. 236 Wanderers & Revolutionaries in the tales of the Franklin & the Clerk Burney’s fable on female identity appeared when the female philosopher was in fashion in works such as Charlotte Smith’s The Young Philosopher (1798) or Elizabeth Hamilton’s Memoirs of Modern Philosophers (1800). Obviously, this character was much indebted to Charlotte Lennox’s memorable Arabella in The Female Quixote (1752).11 For many critics, the Quixotic Elinor refers to Mary Wollstonecraft, who “provided a model for Elinor’s eloquence, penetration, nobility of character and self destructive indulgence in emotion” (Rogers 1990: 163).12 Elinor is another aspect of the protagonist, the mysterious Juliet, who tries to earn her living while concealing her personal story. Unlike Dorigen, the Jacobin Elinor is single, she makes efforts to seduce Harleigh and attacks the social constraints hindering female freedom: “Debility and folly! Put aside your prejudices, and forget that you are a dawdling woman, to remember that you are an active human being and your FEMALE DIFFICULTIES will vanish into the vapour of which they are formed” (397). Burney’s character denounces the causes and grounds for woman-hating: By the oppressions of their [men’s] own statues and institutions, they render us insignificant; and then speak of us as if we were so born! But what have we tried, in which we have been foiled? They dare not trust us with their own education, and their own opportunities for distinction... Woman is left out in the scales of human merit, only because they dare not weigh her! (399). 11 About the translation into Spanish, see Lorenzo (2006). 12 Spacks admits many coincidences between Wollstonecraft’s and Elinor’s protest, but considers that Burney rejects the Dissenter’s views and attacks passivity regarding female identity (1976: 183). For Brown, Elinor represents a point of view never before explicited in Burney and centres on the failure of revolutionary hope on a personal level (1986: 36). Even if we do not understand Elinor as personal parody, Wollstonecraft’s ideology cannot be silenced in the novel. 237 Carmen Mª Fernández Rodríguez Suicide and the intention to erase oneself from the world appear both in Dorigen’s long speech and in Elinor’s exaggerated attempts to kill herself: “Turn Harleigh, turn! and see thy willing martyr! ―Behold, perfidious Ellis! behold thy victim!” (359), “Her! Harleigh, here!... ‘tis here you must reciprocate your vows! Here is the spot! Here stands the altar for the happy; ―here, the tomb for the hopeless!” (580). In Burney, suicide becomes only a thread, a way to obtain Harleigh’s heart and to rebel against an imposed role in the world. Like Dorigen, Elinor sometimes seems almost mad and insists on her Self, a suspicious attitude permitted only to men in medieval and early nineteenth-century England. The Wanderer can be interestingly interpreted in ecocritical terms as an exploration of nature’s darkest side, which reminds us of Chaucer’s tale set in Brittany. The novel deals with the fragmentation of reality and the human necessity to search for an answer to our alienation in the world. This philosophic approach is admirably materialised in the Stonehenge scene paralleling the Breton rocks as a solitary prehistoric shelter, where Juliet, like a female Lear, brings her tragedy to light. She is surrounded by stones, the representatives of female difficulties: This grand, uncouth monument of ancient days had a certain sad, indefinable attraction, more congenial to her distress, than all the polish, taste, and delicacy of modern skill...Here, on the contrary, was room for ‘meditation even to madness’, nothing distracted the sight, nothing broke in upon attention, nor varied the ideas. Thought, uninterrupted and uncontrouled [sic], was master of the mind (766). On the other hand, Elinor deconstructs a literary masculine ideal of benevolent nature in the same way that Chaucer mocks the Franklin’s hypocritical attitude and the high standards presented in his tale. Her excessive positioning is clearly reflected in her view of afterlife through the contemplation of the natural world: 238 Wanderers & Revolutionaries in the tales of the Franklin & the Clerk Look round the old churchyards! Is not every bone the prey, ―or the disgust,― of every animal? How, when scattered, commixed, broken, battered, how shall they ever again be collected, united, arranged, covered and coloured as they appear regenerated? (789). Rudat thinks that Chaucer supports lasting marriages in the tale (1982: 21), but the author also takes advantage to criticise empty discourse as Holman maintains: “both [the Merchant’s and the Franklin’s Tale] certainly are concerned with people caught in the conflict between the demands of matrimony and the courts of love” (1959: 241). The parody of philosophy and rhetoric in The Franklin’s Tale turns into criticism against benevolence and Cambridge Platonism in The Wanderer. This can be specially observed in Elinor and Harleigh’s long-winded conversation on the nature of the soul (781-94) and when she asks herself about woman: “‘Must every thing [sic] that she does be prescribed by rule? Must every thing that she says be limited to what has been said before?’” (177). Dorigen shows how female selfperception is conditioned by masculine ideas on women encoded in the medieval courtly love and comparable with Sensibility,13 harshly criticised by both conservatives and radicals for its excesses and a cultural opening through which the socially excluded could participate in the world. Like Dorigen, Elinor resembles a solitary Wanderer appealing for some social change, but it will be a peasant’s daughter who articulates a more powerful criticism on the subjection of woman. 3. THE CLERK’S TALE OR THE COMPETITION WITH PATRIARCHY 13 Erämetsä points out that this was regarded at the end of the eighteenth century as a “hybrid mixture of thought and feeling ... characterized by extreme innate sensitiveness, which responded to external stimuli with utmost quickness” (1951: 57-8). 239 Carmen Mª Fernández Rodríguez The Clerk portrays an exemplary woman14who is tested through lies and painful separations in a story about the close relationship between the public and the private life. Walter, Marquis of Saluzzo, hears his countrymen’s appeal and decides to marry with a condition: But I yow pray, and charge upon youre lif, That what wif that I take, ye me assure To worshipe hire whil that hir lif may dure, In word and werk, bothe here and everywhere, As she an emperoures doghter were. And ferthermoore, this shal ye swere: that ye Again my chois shal neither grucche ne strive. For sith I shal forgoon my libertee At your requeste, as evere mote I thrive, Theras min herte is set, ther wol I wive. And but ye wol assente in swich manere, I pray yow, speketh namoore of this matere (lines 164-75). He chooses a virtuous poor woman called Griselda, who lives with her father and is a model of virtues since the Clerk describes how “But hye God som time senden can/ His grace into a litel oxes stalle” (lines 206-7). Griselda swears total submission to Walter: She seide,“Lord, undigne and unworthy Am I to thilke honour that ye me bede. But as ye wol yourself, right so wol I. And heere I swere that nevere willingly In werk ne thoght, I nil yow disobeye, For to be deed, thogh me were looth to deye” (lines 359-64). 14 From our modern perspective Griselda is not an appealing character: “there are few Chaucerian tales about which medieval and modern values clash so much as in this tale of husbandly sadism and wifely masochism” (Hallisy 1995: 167). 240 Wanderers & Revolutionaries in the tales of the Franklin & the Clerk She is soon beloved by everybody; however, Walter forces her to separate from her two children (lines 484-90 and 638-41), who are secretly sent to Bologna to be educated as noble people. Griselda accepts Walter’s orders and appeals to love: “Deeth may nat make no comparisoun/ Unto youre love” (lines 666-7). The heroine is later told to leave her rich dwelling since Walter decides to marry another woman and Griselda goes back with Janicula until Walter calls her to prepare his new wife’s arrival. When Walter asks her about his new lady, Griselda’s courageous answer deserves the regaining of her old position, and Walter tells the truth to her. The husband rules his family like God and Griselda’s obedience reproduces submission to patriarchy. As Reiman argues, “Griselda, who possesses more of the theological virtues of faith, hope and charity than does the high-born marquis, misdirects them by submitting patiently and obediently, not to God’s law, but to the arbitrary and evil desires of a ‘mortal man’” (1963: 163). For Martin: “her [Griselda’s] story can be read as a nostalgic celebration or veiled critique of their [Walter’s people] society with its corresponding hierarchies” (1990: 149), and Carruthers also sees Griselda as Walter’s opposite, a woman who neither grew spoilt nor in luxury (1982-3: 225).15 The model wife never questions the legitimacy of Walter’s actions up to a certain point. When he tries to substitute her for another woman, Griselda sets her passivity aside and makes us listen to the defence of her Self as something repressed in the tale: O thing biseke I yow, and warne also, That ye ne prike with no tormentinge This tendre maiden, as ye han don mo; For she is fostred in hir norissinge Moore tendrely, and to my supposinge, She koude nat adversitee endure 15 Walter is cruel, but not a tyrant according to medieval political beliefs (Pearsal 1985: 267 and Hallisy 1995: 159). 241 Carmen Mª Fernández Rodríguez As koude a povre fostred creature” (lines 1037-43). The message here is not limited to the fact that husbands should not be like Walter because women are not Griseldas as Reiman maintains (1963: 369): she is emphasising her individual worth.16 Finally, Walter tells the truth and the family happily lives together: “I have thy feith and thy benignitee,/ As wel as evere womman was, assayed,/ In greet estat, and povreliche arrayed./ Now knowe I, deere wif, thy stedfastnesse!” (lines 1053-6). The prevailing view at the end of the eighteenth century was that women must submit to being in the shadow of a husband, as Hannah More explains in Strictures on the Modern System of Female Education: A woman may be knowing, active, witty, and amusing; but without propriety she cannot be amiable... It shows itself by a regular, orderly, undeviating course; and never starts from its sober orbit into any splendid eccentricities; for it would be ashamed of such praise as it might extort by any aberrations from its proper path. It renounces all commendation but what is characteristic (1974, 1: 6-7). Maria Edgeworth’s The Modern Griselda17 (1805) is a parodic rewriting of The Clerk’s Tale as the rational Emma Granby states: “The situation and understanding of women have been so much improved since his [Chaucer’s] days. Women were then slaves, now they are free” (429). Edgeworth (17681849) cultivated the domestic novel and wrote collections of stories for 16 Heffernan states that Griselda represents the “commune or common people facing an absolutist tyrant, Walter, with passive resistance and freeing him from the tyranny of his own will” (1983: 338). 17 Butler, one of Edgeworth’s best critics and her biographer, emphasises the novelist’s importance and contribution: “In the first half of Belinda, in The Modern Griselda, Émilie de Coulanges, and Manoeuvring, she pioneered some of the most successful features of Jane Austen’s novels” (1972: 327). Besides, “many of the techniques that Jane Austen later used so successfully ―the subtly revealing dialogue, the intelligent principal characters, the relation between the intelligence of those characters and a continuously analytical narrative tone― were all to be found first in Maria Edgeworth” (1972: 328). 242 Wanderers & Revolutionaries in the tales of the Franklin & the Clerk children and adults widely read and admired by generations of readers. Nowadays she is studied in particular for her chronicles of early nineteenthcentury Irish society, in works such as Castle Rackrent (1800), Ennui (1809) and The Absentee (1812). The Anglo-Irish novelist built her story on George Ogle’s well-known version of Chaucer’s text (1741) and depicts the collapse of a marriage due to a bossy anti-Chaucerian wife who erodes her husband’s authority with whims and verbal battles.18 The shrew illustrates how marriage should be based on mutual admiration and respect, which is precisely Chaucer’s thesis and a message to infer from the tale. Fordyce himself defined untamed women as the nightmare of patriarchy: A woman that affects to dispute, to decide, to dictate on every subject; that watches or makes opportunities of throwing out scraps of literature, or shreds of philosophy, in every company; that engrosses the conversation as if she alone were qualified to entertain; that betrays in short, a boundless intemperance of tongue, together with an inextinguishable passion for shining by the splendour of her supposed talents; such a woman is truly insufferable (1787: 176). Edgeworth’s Griselda responds to a stereotype and victimises herself before her husband: I know I am your [Bolingbroke’s] plaything after all: you cannot consider me for a moment as your equal or your friend ― I see that! ― You talk of these things to your friend Mr. Granby ― I am not worthy to hear them. ― Well, I am sure I have no ambition, except to possess the confidence of the man I love (419). 18 Martin highlights the difference: “Whereas the Knight in the Wife’s Tale is schooled and punished into learning what women want, Griselda’s programme is to renounce any individual desire and make her will corfom to Walter’s until they are identical” (1990: 146). 243 Carmen Mª Fernández Rodríguez Do you [Bolingbroke] laugh at me? ... When it comes to this, I am wretched indeed! Never a man laughed at the woman he loved! As long as you had the slightest remains of love for me, you could not make me an object of derision: ridicule and love are incompatible, absolutely incompatible (421). As tension grows more intense, Bolingbroke decides to separate, and Griselda feels desperate and powerless: “Conflicting passions assailed her heart. All the woman rushed upon her soul; she loved her husband more at this instant than she had ever loved him before. His firmness excited at once her anger and her admiration” (460). Challenging females like Edgeworth’s Griselda are undesirable fictions, images to avoid, and in his work Chaucer must be seen as alerting us to the dangers of excessive behaviour by either sex.19 I would like to offer a plausible political interpretation of The Clerk’s Tale. Reiman thinks that Chaucer wanted to parody his Petrarchian source because he differentiates between Walter’s treatment of Griselda and God’s treatment of man (1963: 366-8).20 In my view, Griselda’s excellent capacities to negotiate and rule when Walter is absent constitute a challenge to his authority: even before her marriage she ran the household efficiently and wanted to finish her chores in time to see the new Marquise (lines 223-31 and 281-7). Chaucer’s Griselda turns into a political woman, like Dorigen a philosopher, they enter 19 For Middleton, who analyses the changes Chaucer operated in his sources, the English writer invites us to examine “how woe can be delightful, how ‘ernestful matere’ becomes, through ‘art poetical’, an object of pleasure as well as use” (1980: 122). Morse responds to Middleton and doubts that Chaucer seriously endorses Griselda’s example: “his awareness of the interpretative problems readers and listeners have, as well as his sense that Griselda places an extraordinary demand on the audience, makes him expect few to imitate her” (1985: 84). Hawkins also explains: “if the ways of man to woman in the Clerk’s Tale are explicitly designed to be symbolic of the ways of God to man, then we remain free to criticize those ways as well” (1975: 356). For Ginsberg, the tale is as ambiguous as its teller, who fails of measure up his fiction and thus engages the reader (1978: 322-3). 20 Walter is “both a social innovator and arch disbeliever in his own experiment in affording ‘a povre fostred creature’ the opportunity to become a fair lady” (Johnson, 1994: 207). 244 Wanderers & Revolutionaries in the tales of the Franklin & the Clerk masculine realms, and Walter begins to think of destroying her or testing her sweetness, patience and compassion to the limit. However, for Pearsall, the point is not to make Walter conscious of his excessive pressure on Griselda but to “persuade him to a change of heart” (1985: 276). He does not really mind having children with a peasant, but he does mind losing power before an admirable woman, because he is an incompetent spoilt Marquis. Like the noble wife Dorigen, Griselda provokes certain suspicion in a powerful man, and sex, not class, destabilises society in the tale. Chaucer comes to state, as Hansen explains, that “virtue in a woman in fact provokes male aggression and that a woman’s public powers, even if they are divinely sanctioned, matter little to her identity or fate as a female, both of which are shown to be ultimately and utterly under the control of her husband” (1988: 233). Griselda’s situation reminds us of the one depicted in Mary Astell’s Some Reflections upon Marriage: If Arbitrary Power is Evil in it self, and an improper Method of Governing Rational and Free Agents, it ought not to be practis’d any where; nor is it less, but rather more mischievous in Families than in Kingdoms, by how much 100,000 Tyrants are worse than one. What though a Husband can’t deprive a Wife of Life without being responsible to the Law, he may, however, do what is much more grievous to a genrous [sic] mind render Life miserable, for which she has no Redress, scarce Pity which is afforded to every other Complainant it being thought a Wife’s Duty to suffer every thing without Complaint. If all Men are born Free, how is it that all Women are born Slaves? (1700: 20). 245 Carmen Mª Fernández Rodríguez The heroine has the potential of a Revolutionary, and, if Walter was previously attracted by her beauty and admirable conduct, now he acknowledges her value, so, like a maniac, he wants to torture her.21 In this analysis it is paradoxical that morality impregnates Chaucer’s tales in concepts such as sovereignty and gentilesse. In The Franklin’s Tale neither sex wants to submit and the narrator even labels Arveragus and Aurelius as gentyl, a complex idea which covered moral virtue and aristocratic status (Sledd 1947: 40) and protected against excessive social flexibility (Carruthers 1981: 287). Apart from gentilesse, in The Clerk’s Tale there is another keyword, womanhede, described as feminine essence, either created or endowed and opposing male egotism. As the Clerk explains, Walter was attracted by this virtue in Griselda (“Commendynge in his herte hir wommanhede”, line 239), and he finally reveals to her that all the suffering was “t’assaye in thee thy wommanheede’” (line 1075).22 English proper ladies engendered harmony in a society which empowered them to perfection, and Griselda is indeed a fourteenth-century sweet and compliant Angel in the House, but also a leaf of grass taken from the natural world of Saluzzo. Her figure reminds us of the good daughter, the good lady and the good wife while Walter does as much as possible to frustrate her status as a good mother, and she eventually teaches a nobleman the true meaning of gentilesse as “a consequence of God-given grace that has nothing to do with ancestry” (Levy 1977: 309). 21 Aers explores the story’s psychological dimension: “Chaucer presents Walter as an authoritarian personality who fulfils his egotistic lust for dominion under the tyranny of his own sick will” (1980: 171). Cooper points out that the tale “call[s] into question the subjection of women that makes Walter’s mindless cruelty possible...Chaucer’s attack goes rather deeper [than Dioneo’s one in Decameron], to produce a medieval equivalent to The Wrongs of Woman” (1989: 199). 22 Heninger distinguishes Griselda’s constancy from her patience: “Under all costs, regardless of change in her position, she has done her duty faithfully and benignly...Griselda’s constancy, even in the face of manifestations of mutability, has maintained the natural order of God, in which good is justly rewarded” (1957: 391-2). 246 Wanderers & Revolutionaries in the tales of the Franklin & the Clerk 4. CONCLUSION In this analysis I have inscribed Chaucer’s tales into a different frame of reference, and they have proved to be more complex than they seem. Perhaps Dorigen and Griselda’s treatment is completely ironic; however, the tales of the Franklin and the Clerk are obviously related: “one lesson to be derived from The Clerk’s Tale may be that in marriage, as in most human relationships, tyranny can be avoided only when all parties agree to observe the terms of a treatise that reads ‘You be good to me, and I’ll be good to you’” (Hawkins 1975: 350). Edgeworth’s criticism of the situation of women in The Modern Griselda greatly differs from the Chaucerian text, though the female author also reproduces the war of the sexes. It is clear that Chaucer has given his characters a human touch like a Gothic sculptor working on scenes for the façade of a cathedral, an attitude already found in The Legend of Good Women (c. 1386). The subject of these tales should not be merely reduced to marriage since the stories affirm the right to express oneself, to question and to defend identity, which implies the respect towards Others. Female protagonists share something more than sacrifice: “Patience is too based upon integrity, the trouthe which persists through the vagaries of passion, and expresses itself as willing generosity, the ability to forgive” (Carruthers 1981: 296), a lesson to inculcate to the reader and which does not abound. The tales of the Franklin and the Clerk are also chronicles of males fearful of change, which would become more noticeable when, in modern England, female writers vied with the authority of their male counterparts. In this sense, Dorigen and Griselda probably just needed to take the pen. Carmen María Fernández Rodríguez Universidade da Coruña 247 Carmen Mª Fernández Rodríguez REFERENCES Aers, D. 1980: Chaucer, Langland and the Creative Imagination. Routledge & Kegan Paul, London, Boston and Henley. Astell, M. 1700: Some Reflections upon Marriage. Dublin. Bachman. W. B. Jr. 1977: ‘To Maken Illusioun’: The Philosophy of Magic and the Magic of Philosophy in The Franklin’s Tale. The Chaucer Review 12.1: 55-67. Baker, D. 1961: A Crux in Chaucer’s Franklin’s Tale: Dorigen’s Complaint. Journal of English and Germanic Philology 60: 56-64. Bloomfield, M. W. 1982: The Franklin’s Tale: A Story of Unanswered Questions. Acts of Interpretation: The Text In Its Contexts 700-1600. Essays On Medieval and Renaissance Literature in Honor of E. Talbot Donaldson. Ed. Mary J. Carruthers & Elizabeth D. Kirk. Pilgrim Books: Norman, Oklahoma. 189-98. Brown, M. G. 1986: Fanny Burney’s ‘Feminism’: Gender or Genre? Fetter’d or Free: British Women Novelist 1670-1815. Ed. M.A. Schoefield & C. Macheski. Ohio University Press, Ohio. 29-39. Bryan W. F. & G. Dempster 1959: Sources and Analogues of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. Ed. Atlantic Highlands, New Jersey: Humanities Press. Burney, Fanny. 1991[1814]: The Wanderer. Ed. M. A. Doody. OUP, Oxford. Butler. M. 1972: Maria Edgeworth: A Literary Biography. Clarendon Press, Oxford. Carruthers, M. J. 1981: The Gentilesse of Chaucer’s Franklin. Criticism 23.4: 283-300. Carruthers, M. J. 1982-3: The Lady, the Swineherd and Chaucer’s Clerk. Chaucer Review 17.3: 221-34. 248 Wanderers & Revolutionaries in the tales of the Franklin & the Clerk Chaucer, G. 2005: The Canterbury Tales. Ed. J. Mann. Penguin Books, London. Cooper, H. 1989: Oxford Guides to Chaucer: The Canterbury Tales. OUP, Oxford. David, A. 1976: The Strumpet Muse. Indiana UP, Bloomington. Dinshaw, C. 1989: Chaucer’s Sexual Poetics. The University of Wisconsin Press, Madison. Edgeworth, M. 1893[1805]: The Modern Griselda. Tales and Novels by Maria Edgeworth. George Routledge & Sons Inc, London. Erämetsä, E. 1951: A Study of the Word Sentimental and of Other Linguistic Characteristics of Eighteenth Century Sentimentalism in England. Annales Accademiae Scientiarium Fennicae, Helsinki. Fordyce, J. 1787[1766]: Sermons to Young Women. Thomas Dobson, Philadelphia. Ginsberg, W. 1978: ‘And Speketh so Pleyn’: The Clerk’s Tale and its Teller. Criticism 20: 307-20. Hallissy, M. 1995: A Companion to Chaucer’s Tales. Greenwood Press, Westport. Hansen, E. T. 1988: The Powers of Silence: The Case of the Clerk’s Griselda. Women and Power in the Middle Ages. Ed. M. Erler & M. Kowaleski. University of Georgia Press, Athens. 230-49. Hawkins, H. 1975: The Victim’s Side: Chaucer’s Clerk’s Tale and Webster’s Duchess of Malfi. Signs 1.2: 339-61. Hays, M. 1974[1796]: The Memoirs of Emma Courtney. Garland Publishing, New York. Heffernan, C. F. 1983: Tyranny and Commune Profit in The Clerk’s Tale. The Chaucer Review 17.4: 332-40. 249 Carmen Mª Fernández Rodríguez Heninger, S. K. Jr. 1957: The Concept of Order in The Clerk’s Tale. Journal of English and Germanic Philology 56: 382-95. Holman, C. H. 1959[1951]: Courtly Love in the Merchant’s and the Franklin’s Tale. Chaucer: Modern Essays in Criticism. Ed. E. Wagenknecht. OUP, London, Oxford & New York. 240- 50. Johnson, L. 1994: Reincarnations of Griselda: Contexts for the Clerk’s Tale. Feminist Readings in Middle English Literature: The Wife of Bath and All Her Sect. Ed. R. Evans & L. Johnson. Routledge, New York & London. 192-220. Kellogg, A. L. 1972: The Evolution of the Clerk’s Tale. Chaucer, Langland, Arthur: Essays in Middle English Literature. Ed. A. L. Kellogg. Rutgers, New Brunswick. 276-323. Kittredge, G. L. 1959[1911-2]: Chaucer’s Discussion of Marriage. Rpt. Chaucer: Modern Essays in Criticism. Ed. E. Wagenknecht. OUP, London. 188-215. Levy, B. S. 1977: Gentilesse in Chaucer’s Clerk’s and Merchant’s Tales. The Chaucer Review 11.4: 306-18. Lorenzo Modia, M. J. 2004: Introducción. Vindicación dos dereitos da muller. M. Wollstonecraft. Trans. Mª Fe González Fernández. Xunta de Galicia e Sotelo Blanco, Santiago de Compostela. 9-46. Lorenzo Modia, M. J. 2006: Charlotte Lennox’s The Female Quixote into Spanish: A Gender-Biased Translation. The Yearbook of English Studies 36.1: 103-14. Mann, J. 1982: Chaucer’s Themes and Style in the Franklin’s Tale. The New Pelican Guide to English Literature. Ed. B. Ford. Vol 1, Medieval Literature. Part 1: Chaucer and the Alliterative Tradition. Penguin Books, Harmondsworth: 133-53. 250 Wanderers & Revolutionaries in the tales of the Franklin & the Clerk Martin, P. 1990: Chaucer’s Women: Nuns, Wives and Amazons. University of Iowa, Iowa City. Mathewson, E. J. 1983: The Illusion of Morality in the Franklin’s Tale. Medium Aevum 52: 27-37. Middleton, A. 1980: The Clerk and His Tale: Some Literary Contexts. Studies in the Age of Chaucer 2: 121-50. More, H. 1974[1799]: Strictures on the Modern System of Female Education. 2 Vols. Garland, New York. Morse, C. 1985: The Exemplary Griselda. Studies in the Age of Chaucer 7: 5186. Pearsall, D. 1985: The Canterbury Tales. Routledge, London and New York. Phillips, H. 2000: Love. A Companion to Chaucer. Ed. P. Brown. Oxford & Malden: Blackwell Publishers Ltd. 281-295. Raybin, D. 1992: ‘Wommen, of Kynde, Desiren Libertee’: Rereading Dorigen, Rereading Marriage. The Chaucer Review 27.1: 65-86. Reiman, D. H. 1963: The Real ‘Clerk’s Tale’: or, Patient Griselda Exposed. Texas Studies in Literature and Language 5.3: 356-73. Robertson, D. W. 1974: Chaucer’s Franklin and His Tale. Costerus: Essays in English and American Literature and Language. Ed. J. L. W. West. Rodopi: Amsterdam. 1-26 Rogers, K. 1990: Fanny Burney: The World of Female Difficulties. Harvester Wheatsheaf, New York. Roney, L. 1999: Abuse of Innocents’ as a Theme in The Canterbury Tales: Dorigen as Instance. Papers in Medieval Literature: 18-33. Rudat, W. E. H. 1982: Aurelius’s Quest for Grace: Sexuality and The Marriage Debate in The Franklin’s Tale. CEA Critic. 45.1: 16-21. 251 Carmen Mª Fernández Rodríguez Shoaf, R.A. 1997: The Franklin’s Tale: Chaucer and Medusa. Chaucer. New Casebooks Series. Ed. V. Allen & A. Axiotis. London and New York: Macmillan Press Ltd. and St. Martin’s Press, Inc. 242-52. Sledd, J. 1947: Dorigen’s Complaint. Modern Philology 45.1: 36-45. Spacks, P.M. 1976: Dynamics of Fear: Fanny Burney. Imagining a Self: Autobiography and Novel in Eighteenth-Century England. Harvard University Press, Cambridge (MA). 158-192. Spearing, A. C. 2005: Textual Subjectivity: The Encoding of Subjectivity in Medieval Narratives and Lyrics. OUP, Oxford. Thompson L. A. 1984: ‘A Woman True and Fair’: Chaucer’s Portrayal of Dorigen in the Franklin’s Tale. The Chaucer Review 19.2: 169-78. Wollstonecraft, M. 1975[1792]: A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, with Strictures on Political and Moral Subjects. Ed. Miriam Brody Krammick. Penguin, Harmondsworth. *†* 252 NOTES *†* THE LOLLARD DISESTABLISHMENT BILL AND ROCESTER, STAFFORDSHIRE THE Lollard Disendowment Bill, presented to parliament in 1407 or (more probably) 1410, is well known to historians. Its plan of confiscating Church temporalities and using them for social, military, and educational purposes (including the founding of fifteen universities) has been seen as anticipating that of Henry VIII.1 Its fate was described by McFarlane. ‘After allowing Henry IV 20,000 a year, the sponsors reckoned that there would still be enough to endow fifteen new earls, 1,500 new knights and 6,200 new esquires. The arithmetic of the scheme was faulty, but it was unacceptable for other reasons. The King for one utterly repudiated its anti-clericalism; his trusted servant John Norbury delighted the monasteries by urging Arundel to crush these heretics; and the Prince of Wales was hostile. Even that part of the Lollards’ programme most calculated to tempt the avarice of laymen could no longer be relied upon to earn them a hearing.’2 This tract before the times includes the following clause on bishops and abbeys to be disendowed: ‘Of the bisshop of Chestre with the abbey there and Bannastre, and of the bisshop of London, Seint Dauid, Salysbury and Excetre xx ml marcis’.3 ‘Bannastre’ here has been a crux. Anne Hudson describes its location as ‘uncertain’, but notes that MS Harley 3775 has Remest and the St 1 David Knowles, The Religious Orders in England: The End of the Middle Ages (Cambridge, 1955), 107-8; English Historical Documents 1327-1485, ed. A. R. Myers (London, 1969), 668-70; Margaret Aston, Lollards and Reformers (London, 1984), 21. 2 K. B. McFarlane, Wycliffe and English Non-Conformity (Harmondsworth, 1972), 139-40. 3 Selections from English Wycliffite Writings, ed. Anne Hudson (Cambridge, 1978), 136. Andrew Breeze, Selim 13 (2005-2006): 253—256 Andrew Breeze Alban’s Chronicle Rouecestre, ‘possibly Rocester priory, Staffs., as suggested by Galbraith.’4 This problem is one of place-name scholarship. The first edition of Ekwall’s dictionary, which records Rocester as Rowecestre in Domesday Book, Rouecestre in 1208, and Rovecestre in 1225, probably came out too late for Galbraith to use it.5 Yet these forms leave no doubt. The Lollard Disendowment Bill refers to Rocester abbey in the diocese of Coventry and Lichfield, its name appearing correctly in the St Albans Chronicle as Rouecestre. The house at Rocester, four miles north of Uttoxeter (SK 1039), was of Augustinian or Black Canons (like many others mentioned in the Lollard Bill) and was founded in 1141 x 1146 by Richard Bacon, a nephew of Ranulph, earl of Chester.6 Since the ‘Bannestre’, ‘Remest’, and ‘Rouecestre’ of the Lollard Disestablishment Bill surely refer to Rocester, the work of place-name scholars would here normally be done. But perhaps something may be said of the house to suggest why its name was corrupted, thus for so long puzzling historians. In their rule the Black Canons resembled the Benedictines, though their ideal was less austere.7 Sir Richard Southern placed the order neatly, describing it as one of ‘compromise’, with ‘modest and inexpensive virtues’.8 Rocester abbey (of which nothing survives above ground) had only local importance; the obscurity of the house may explain the corruption ‘Bannastre’ in pamphlet versions of the bill. Nevertheless, Rocester attracted hostile attention from Lollards, and the Victoria County History here suggests why. Though its patronage went to the Crown in 1246 on the annexation of the 4 Hudson, 206. 5 Eilert Ekwall, The Concise Oxford Dictionary of English Place-Names (Oxford, 1936), 371; The St Alban’s Chronicle, ed. V. H. Galbraith (Oxford, 1937), 52-5. 6 The Heads of Religious Houses: England and Wales 940-1216, ed. David Knowles & al. (Cambridge, 1972), 182. 7 J. C. Dickinson, Monastic Life in Medieval England (London, 1961), 77. 8 R. W. Southern, Medieval Humanism (Oxford, 1970), 216. 256 Rocester earldom of Chester, the abbey was dogged by poverty. It also had a troubled communal life. In 1375 one of its canons, Richard of Foston, was said to be wandering from place to place posing as abbot of Rocester; in 1385 there was an order for the arrest of three of its canons, including a Richard Foster who may be the Richard of Foston above. The abbots of Rocester had other tribulations. One of them, John Cheswardine, was accused of harbouring men guilty of homicide, though by 1385 he had established his innocence. Of special significance for the Lollard Disestablishment Bill is a dispute concerning abbot Henry Smyth. Some of the Rocester canons challenged his election, which was yet confirmed by the bishop in 1407 and (after an appeal) the archbishop of Canterbury in 1408; despite this, the temporalities of Rocester were not restored by the Crown until the archbishop had given his decision.9 So the house had a poor reputation. Hence, it seems, its appearance in the Lollard Disestablishment Bill. It thus seems quite certain from the above that ‘Bannastre’ (presumably a corruption of ‘Roucestre’) and ‘Remest’ (probably from ‘Roucest’) in the Lollard Disestablishment Bill of 1407 x 1410 refer to Rocester abbey, Staffordshire. We here thus vindicate Galbraith’s identification of 1937, as well as indicating reasons why the community at Rocester should attract unfavourable attention in the Lollard Disendowment Bill. Andrew Breeze University of Navarre, Pamplona *†* 9 A History of the County of Stafford, volume iii, ed. M. W. Gleenslade (London, 1970), 247-51. For help here the writer thanks Dr N. J. Tringham of Keele University. 257 BUNE ‘MAIDEN; BELOVED’ IN ANCRENE WISSE IN a passage on the hound of hell, Ancrene Wisse speaks of God’s love for man, calling the soul God’s dear bune. Dickins and Wilson understood this as ‘purchase’. Though they noted the Nero manuscript here reads spuse ‘spouse’ (the usual word in this context), they thought bune in the sense ‘purchase’ probably represented the original, since other manuscripts have bugging ‘buying’ and the Latin version has mercem ‘purchase’.1 Salu hence translated the sentence, ‘When he [the hound of hell], for such a poor price, the momentary satisfaction of a desire, bargains for your soul, God’s dear purchase (godes deore bune) which he bought with his blood and precious death on the dear cross, always remember the price he paid for it, and judge then of its value and hold it in the higher regard.’2 Norman Davis also glossed bune as ‘purchase’, deriving it from Old English bygen ‘buy’.3 Wada likewise translates it ‘purchase’.4 Bune elsewåhere in Ancrene Wisse (and the Lambeth Homilies) certainly means ‘buying, purchase, expense’ (as accepted by OED). We hear that one cannot ‘have a pair of laced shoes without paying a price (bune)’, and that the cleanness of chastity is no purchase from God (ne beo nawt bune ed Godd), but a gift of grace.5 Yet the hound of hell passage may have another solution. Welsh loans are a feature of the AB language.6 There is also a Welsh noun bun meaning ‘maiden, woman, sweetheart’. Might it be the word in Ancrene 1 Early Middle English Texts, ed. Bruce Dickins and R. M. Wilson (Cambridge, 1951), 210-11. 2 The Ancrene Riwle, tr. Mary Salu (London, 1955), 129. 3 Early Middle English Verse and Prose, ed. J. A. W. Bennett and G. V. Smithers, 2nd edn (Oxford, 1968), 456. 4 “Temptations” from ‘Ancrene Wisse’, ed. Yoko Wada (Osaka, 1994), 127. 5 Salu, 161, 163; Ancrene Wisse: Parts Six and Seven, ed. G. T. Shepherd (London, 1959), 9, 12. 6 Bennett and Smithers, 418. Andrew Breeze, Selim 13 (2005-2006): 257—259 Andrew Breeze Wisse? The evidence is thus. A North British hero of the seventh-century Gododdin is described as diffun y mlaen bun ‘breathless in the presence of a girl’.7 He was a lion in battle but modest and respectful with women. A twelfth-century hymn by Master John of St Davids praises God as creator of ‘male and female’ (mascul a bun), sun and moon, letters on wax tablets, flame on a rush, and ‘dear gentle woman’ (bun hygar huir).8 Dafydd ap Gwilym declares (as often) that he is in pursuit of Morfudd, his beloved (bun); Cardiganshire records of the 1340s, revealing her unfortunate husband as a man of substance, indicate her rank.9 These instances show bun (still a Welsh word for ‘maid, maiden’) was applied to women of some status. We may note too that Middle Welsh bun was pronounced with a central [ü] and not the varieties of [i] it has in Modern Welsh.10 As a standard but dignified term, this word might be used of human souls as loved by God. If bune is a loan from Welsh bun, treated as a weak feminine noun and meaning ‘beloved’, it offers a stronger meaning than does ‘purchase’. The author of Ancrene Wisse would be telling each of his female readers of the infinite value of her soul, seen as ‘God’s dear beloved (godes deore bune) which he bought with his blood and precious death on the dear cross’. Spuse in his next sentence, ‘May you never thus lightly sell to his enemy and yours his dear spouse who has cost him so much’, contains the same idea. The author is there not changing the metaphor (as he would if bune meant ‘purchase’) but repeating it. If bune is a borrowing from Welsh and means ‘maiden; female beloved’, it allows three conclusions. It reveals the Nero manuscript’s spuse as near the 7 Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru (Caerdydd, 1950-2002), 348; K. H. Jackson, The Gododdin: The Oldest Scottish Poem (Edinburgh, 1969), 116. 8 Marged Haycock, Blodeugerdd Barddas o Ganu Crefyddol Cynnar (s.l., 1994), 20. 9 Helen Fulton, Dafydd ap Gwilym and the European Context (Cardiff, 1989), 214; Andrew Breeze, Medieval Welsh Literature (Dublin, 1997), 115. 10 D. Simon Evans, A Grammar of Middle Welsh (Dublin, 1964), 1. 260 Bune in Ancrene Wisse original sense, which is misunderstood in other texts. Their bugging ‘buying’ and Latin mercem show they took bune as ‘purchase’ (like modern editors), though the first was clearly puzzled by it. It also underlines the author’s emphasis on Jesus as the soul’s lover, which goes back to the Song of Songs, but was given new life in the twelfth century by Bernard of Clairvaux and Hugh of St Victor.11 Finally, as another Welsh loan in the AB language, bune would tend to locate it near Wales. Scholars like Gelling and Dance (who know no Welsh) perennially cry down this factor, suggesting the AB language could be placed in the West Midlands at a distance from the border regions of Shropshire or Herefordshire.12 This seems perverse. Welsh loans would surely figure in these texts only if they were written in a region where Welsh was heard each day; like Basque in Pamplona. Andrew Breeze University of Navarre, Pamplona *†* 11 Rosemary Woolf, The English Religious Lyric in the Middle Ages (Oxford, 1968), 46, 58-60. 12 Margaret Gelling, The West Midlands in the Early Middle Ages (Leicester, 1992), 70; Richard Dance, ‘The AB Language’ in A Companion to ‘Ancrene Wisse’, ed. Yoko Wada (Cambridge, 2003), 57-82, at 75 n. 51. 261 DEALE ‘TAKE NOTE’ IN ANCRENE WISSE DEALE is an old crux in Ancrene Wisse, where it occurs three times, as noted by OED. The author says on humility that Deale drue spritlen bear grapes; on anger (addressing his charges), Deale you are not so angry as to try to rob God; and, on the Passion, Lo deale what it says, that Christ should suffer to enter his kingdom. Deale has been variously explained. OED, which adds the instance ‘O dele, said the kyng, this is a fole Briton’ from Robert Mannyng, suggests it calls attention, perhaps being an interjection like English ‘Lo!’, or a verb in the imperative like ‘See!’, ‘Mark!’, or ‘Note!’ Salu sees it rather as an intensive. She thus translates the expressions in Ancrene Wisse as ‘Precious few twigs bear grapes’, ‘Surely you are not so angry’, and ‘It was necessary, it says’.1 Shepherd, who cited another dubious instance from Seinte Marharete (perhaps by Ancrene Wisse’s author), had an ingenious explanation. He asserted that the sense was ‘Distinguish the premisses of the argument carefully to understand its force’ or ‘Let us get this quite clear’, and that there seemed an inescapable (though complex) link with the verb dealen ‘to separate, share’. He therefore posited a variant infinitive *dealin (‘a Class II weak verb’), its sense influenced by Latin distinctio in technical scholastic terminology. Deale thus served ‘as a call of attention to a point of logic or method’.2 Smithers made no reference to this, but added a supposed instance (Qe dele estes vous, where the first words substitute Maleure irrus ‘Wretched, pitiless’) from The South English Legendary; Norman Davis, doubtfully comparing Old 1 The Ancrene Riwle, tr. Mary Salu (London, 1955), 123, 127, 160. 2 Ancrene Wisse: Parts Six and Seven, ed. G. T. Shepherd (London, 1959), 39. Andrew Breeze, Selim 13 (2005-2006): 261—262 Andrew Breeze French dea and English la ‘lo’, translated the form as an interjection ‘What!’3 Wada now takes the first instance as Deale? Drue spritlen ‘Really? Do dry twigs...’ and the second, Deale! Art tu se ‘Incredible! Are you so’, etc.4 This note offers a quite new etymology: that deale is a loan from the Welsh second person imperative deall ‘Understand!’ Deall ‘to understand, perceive, apprehend, discern; infer, deduce; realize’ (a bisyllable and in Middle Welsh often appearing as dyall) is a common Welsh verb, so we need not quote attestations.5 It fits the required sense exactly, and the etymology seems neatly confirmed by Mannyng’s ‘O dele, said the kyng, this is a fole Briton’ in OED. If dele here is a Welsh loan, the reference to a stupid Welshman implies it was used to communicate with uncomprehending Celts, like Modern English savvy (from Spanish ¿Sabe Usted? ‘Do you understand?’) with Hispanics. Deale should thus surely be translated as ‘Understand!’, ‘Take Note!’, used as a Middle English weak verb imperative in -e. The explanations of Shepherd and Davis can be seen as unfounded. However, it is possible that Smithers’s supposed instance in The South English Legendary means ‘understand’, as may dayly (rhyming with fayle) in line 313 of Pearl (cited by Shepherd), both forms having the same origin. More significantly, one may note how OED’s nineteenth-century account, as often, is nearer the mark than some later ones: a tribute to the stature of its editors and the perceptiveness and honesty of their learning. Andrew Breeze University of Navarre, Pamplona *†* 3 Early Middle English Verse and Prose, ed. J. A. W. Bennett and G. V. Smithers, 2nd edn (Oxford, 1968), 411, 465. 4 “Temptations” from ‘Ancrene Wisse’, ed. Yoko Wada (Osaka, 1994), 110, 111, 120, 121. 5 Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru (Caerdydd, 1950-2002), 908. 264 NURD ‘UPROAR’ IN THE AB LANGUAGE THE AB language has ‘an idiosyncratic local word-hoard with its own favourite lexical ploys’.1 Amongst these ploys is nurd, otherwise unknown. It occurs six times. Seinte Katerine, as quoted by OED, mentions hearing of a great nurd towards an accursed pagan temple (maumetes temple); Hali Meidhad describes how the hateful nurd and ill-bred racket of a husband at home make his wife shudder; Sawles Ward allegorizes thoughts as servants, with their nurd and disordered clamour, who constantly itch to revolt against the mistress of the house, Reason. Beside OED’s instances are three in Ancrene Wisse. An anchoress should put every ‘disturbance (nurd) of the world away from her heart, for it is God’s chamber’; and this nurd enters the heart only from what is seen, heard, tasted, smelt, or felt. The author also forbids his charges to have lavish entertainments or encourage unruly strangers to come to the gate. Though there may be no harm in it beyond their immoderate ‘noise’ (nurd), it would jar spiritual thought.2 Nurd has perplexed medieval scribes and modern scholars. Bennett noted that the scribe of the Titus manuscript substituted mur(h)d ‘mirth’ for it in both Hali Meidhad and Sawles Ward (ruining the sense), though its meaning is clear from the translation noise in the French version of Ancrene Wisse and from sonus in Seinte Katerine’s Latin source. He added that Smithers linked it to Middle Dutch norren ‘to wrangle’ and Middle Low German nurren ‘to grumble, grunt, growl’. However, Norman Davis in his glossary doubted this 1 Richard Dance, ‘The AB Language’ in A Companion to ‘Ancrene Wisse’, ed. Yoko Wada (Cambridge, 2003), 57-82, at 73. 2 The Ancrene Riwle, tr. Mary Salu (London, 1955), 40, 183. Andrew Breeze, Selim 13 (2005-2006): 263—266 Andrew Breeze etymology.3 Millett quotes Zettersten for another derivation, taking nurd as a native word related to Middle English nurne ‘to announce, propose’ (and notes further that the phrase where nurd occurs in Hali Meidhad and Sawles Ward may have appeared too in Seinte Marherete, now corrupt at this point).4 Yet the derivations of Smithers and Zettersten are not compelling. Another approach is possible. Citing Dobson, Millett comments on how the Titus scribe dropped cader-clutes ‘cradle-clouts, baby-clothes’ for a phrase of his own, probably because he did not understand cader (from Welsh cadair ‘chair; cradle’).5 If cader is one baffling Welsh loan, nurd might be another. Why, otherwise, should nurd (if Germanic) mystify scribes, so that it appears corrupted not only in Titus, but also in Nero, where murhde ‘mirth’, noise ‘noise’, and mud ‘mouth’ substitute it?6 If nurd were a Welsh borrowing, it would be from nyrth, a variant singular or archaic plural of nerth, normally meaning ‘strength’, but also ‘host, military force, army, military reinforcement or support’. This appears early. The seventh-century Gododdin tells of a North British battalion advancing on Catterick, ‘a force (nerth) of horses with dark-blue armour and shields’.7 Verses in a thirteenth-century manuscript commemorate Talan (otherwise unknown), a hero who was ‘slayer of the head of every force (nyrth)’, but at home a generous host.8 Nyrth occurs in the sardonic ‘Dream of Rhonabwy’, where ravens ‘in their strength’ (yn eu nyrth) lift King Arthur’s men into the 3 Early Middle English Verse and Prose, ed. J. A. W. Bennett & G. V. Smithers, 2nd ed. (Oxford, 1968), 419, 542. 4 Hali Meidhad, ed. Bella Millett, EETS o.s. 284 (1982), xx, 44. 5 Millett, 48. 6 The English Text of the Ancrene Riwle, ed. Mabel Day, EETS o.s. 225 (1952), 39, 189; Ancrene Wisse, ed. J. R. R. Tolkien, EETS o.s. 249 (1962), 49, 211. 7 Canu Aneirin, ed. Ifor Williams (Caerdydd, 1938), 15; K. H. Jackson, The Gododdin: The Oldest Scottish Poem (Edinburgh, 1969), 130. 8 Thomas Jones, ‘The Black Book of Carmarthen “Stanzas of the Graves”‘, Proceedings of the British Academy, liii (1967), 97-137, at 128, 129. 266 Nurd in the AB language air, tear them to bits, and let the remains fall to earth. The form here is either a variant of singular nerth or an old plural.9 The standard plural of nerth appears in ‘The Chronicle of the Princes’, on Henry I’s action in 1102 against treason by Robert de Bellême and his brother Arnulf, who occupied castles and summoned forces (nerthoed) from all sides (even Wales).10 The Welsh version of the tale of Bevis of Hampton (in a fourteenth-century manuscript) tells of a king doomed to lose a battle unless he gets reinforcements (nerth), and of a commander who declares, ‘I shall give you five hundred horsemen as military support (yn nerth)’.11 Neart ‘strength’, the Irish cognate of nerth, can also mean ‘military force’, as in the twelfth-century Book of Leinster.12 In the Gaelic of Argyll it kept this sense into modern times.13 The martial applications of nerth and neart were thus widespread. The AB language is persistently located on the Welsh border, in Herefordshire or Shropshire.14 In the middle ages this was a military zone studded with castles.15 When in Sawles Warde the author calls the Devil’s henchmen his keis (referring to native Welsh police who maintained order by drastic means), he shows awareness of local hazard.16 Nurd may likewise reflect border insecurity. The Black Book of Carmarthen shows nyrth used in the sense ‘army’ or ‘armies’, while in Welsh prose nerth means ‘army, reinforcements’. Nyrth ‘military force(s), host(s)’ might thus be a Welsh word familiar on both sides of the frontier. Hence nurd. 9 Breudwyt Ronabwy, ed. Melville Richards (Caerdydd, 1948), 16, 57; The Mabinogion, tr. Gwyn Jones and Thomas Jones (London, 1949), 148. 10 Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru (Caerdydd, 1950-2002), 2572; Brut y Tywysogyon, tr. Tho. Jones (Cardiff, 1952), 25. 11 Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru, 2572. 12 Williams, 167. 13 J. L. Campbell and D. S. Thomson, Edward Lhuyd in the Scottish Highlands 1699-1700 (Oxford, 1963), 200. 14 Dance, 71. 15 A. C. Breeze, ‘Cefnllys and the Hereford Map’, Transactions of the Radnorshire Society, lxix (1999), 173-5. 16 A. C. Breeze, ‘Welsh Cais “Sergeant” and Sawles Warde’, NQ, ccxxxviii (1993), 297-303. 267 Andrew Breeze But why the English sense ‘uproar, disturbance’? There seems a ready answer. A medieval Welsh army was an animating rabble, guaranteed to perturb equanimity. So nurd might soon gain the sense ‘tumult, uproar, disturbance’, which the AB language links with rowdies of all sorts (servants, brutal husbands, and others). We could thus reject the forms meaning ‘wrangle; grumble, grunt, growl’ or ‘announce, propose’ advanced by Smithers and Zettersten. These senses are feeble and do not fit the context of latent aggression. But Welsh nyrth, an army intent on rapine and murder, is another matter. Like keis, used of beadles-cum-hangmen, nyrth>nurd would imply alien violence. No wonder then if, in the border community that produced the AB language, Welsh nyrth ‘army’ should give nurd ‘uproar’, applied to elements of disorder: a pagan mob, a wife-beater, mutinous servants, sturdy beggars, and the distractions of this world. Andrew Breeze University of Navarre, Pamplona *†* 268 RUNG ‘ARISE’ IN ANCRENE WISSE OED cites the verb rung twice from Ancrene Wisse; it is otherwise unknown. On their devotions the author instructs his charges, ‘for the Gloria patri always stand up (rungen up) and bow’.1 The Corpus text has rungen, but Nero substitutes arisen. The author later urges defiance of the hound of hell: ‘stand up (rung up), bestir yourself; lift your eyes and hands to heaven’, where rung figures in both Corpus and Nero.2 Glossaries describe rung’s etymology as obscure.3 Yet the meaning ‘stand up’ is clear, and remains accepted.4 If rung is not from English, French, or Norse, might it be from Welsh? If so, it would be from rhyngu ‘to reach, attain, get’. This survives now only in the phrase rhyngu bodd ‘to please’ (literally ‘reach satisfaction’). But its original sense ‘to reach, attain, get’ occurs in archaic texts and is confirmed by its Old Irish cognate ro-icc ‘reaches, arrives, attains’. An Old Welsh text of the ninth century gives the phrase ni rincir i les ‘its benefit is not reached’ (= it is necessary). The twelfth-century bard Gwalchmai declares the man is blessed who may attain (yd ragwy) a maiden’s favour. In the same century the proud poet Cynddelw asks Christ that benefit reach (ranghwy) him.5 There seems no phonological objection to derivation of rung from Middle Welsh rhyngu (imperative singular rhyng), while a development from ‘reach, attain, get’ to ‘arise, stand up’ is quickly grasped. The borrowing probably reflects orders to Welsh servants. They would often have had to stand up and 1 The Ancrene Riwle, tr. Mary Salu (London, 1955), 9. 2 Salu, 129. 3 Early Middle English Texts, ed. Bruce Dickins and R. M. Wilson (Cambridge, 1951), 302; Early Middle English Verse and Prose, ed. J. A. W. Bennett and G. V. Smithers, 2nd edn (Oxford, 1968), 555. 4 “Temptations” from ‘Ancrene Wisse’, ed. Yoko Wada (Osaka, 1994), 124, 125. 5 Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru (Caerdydd, 1950-2002), 3139. Andrew Breeze, Selim 13 (2005-2006): 267—268 Andrew Breeze get things. A peremptory tone may even be discerned in the author’s commands, whether to stand up and say the Gloria, or fight the Devil. He was most familiar with this verb in its imperative mood, like the Anglo-Indians of E. M. Forster, who knew the imperatives of Hindi verbs, but stumbled over politer forms. Rung would, then, reflect the servant-world of the Marches, like the AB language’s baban ‘baby’ and cader ‘cradle’ (where Welsh nurses of English babies have also left their mark).6 Andrew Breeze University of Navarre, Pamplona *†* 6 A. C. Breeze, ‘Welsh Baban “Baby” and Ancrene Wisse’, NQ, ccxxxviii (1993), 12-13; Richard Dance, ‘The AB Language’ in A Companion to ‘Ancrene Wisse’, ed. Yoko Wada (Cambridge, 2003), 57-82, at 75 n. 51. 270 REVIEWS & NOTICES HAGEDORN, SUZANNE. C. Abandoned Women: Rewriting the Classics in Dante, Boccaccio and Chaucer. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2004, 220 pp. ISBN 0-472-11349-6 The figure of the forsaken and plaintive woman has attracted readers’ attention since classical times, particularly after Ovid created his well-known and innovative epistles, the Heroides.1 Taking into account its inclusion in library catalogues and medieval school anthologies or libri manuales, we could affirm that there was an increasing interest in this type of epistolary genre in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Like most medieval literature, the Heroides was regarded as a didactic work in the Middle Ages. According to the commentators of the age, Ovid was trying to instruct in the art of love and to warn readers about the danger of foolish love. In an accessus of the twelfth century a commentator wrote: ‘…The final cause is the following: that having seen the advantage that proceeds from legitimate love and the misfortunes that usually follow from foolish love, we will flee these two and only devote ourselves to chaste love’ (p. 29). Notwithstanding this, others interpreted the Heroides as an instructional handbook in the art of love-letter writing. The echo of this influence may, indeed, be heard in Heloise’s letters. From the twelfth to the fourteenth centuries, the subgenre was used and adapted by the most representative medieval poets of the European vernacular literature, namely Dante, Boccaccio and Chaucer. These authors, especially known for their retelling of classical stories in their own language, used Ovid’s Heroides as a common point of departure for some of their works. 1 Since a compilation of this type did not exist before, Ovid is considered its creator. Although, Propertius, in the third poem of his Book IV, wrote an elegy in a letter form whose sender was a woman. Furthermore, its tone was much the same as the Heroides. Rebeca Cubas, Selim 13 (2005-2006): 271—276 Rebeca Cubas Peña In the present study, Suzanne Hagedorn focuses on some medieval oeuvres where abandoned women are represented and analyses them, highlighting the Ovidian letters’ influence. Having published widely, Abandoned Women is the first extended essay where Professor Hagedorn displays brilliantly every noticeable and intertextual connection among the aforementioned medieval authors and their classical predecessors, especially Ovid, Virgil and Statius. She is particularly keen on the way Ovid and his medieval adapters questioned the values of the male oriented epic world and its individual heroism, owing to the fact that these epic heroes, searching for glory and fame, abandoned and deceived their wives and lovers. Dante, Chaucer and Boccaccio disguised, occasionally, as classical and mythological women (what Elizabeth Harvey and Lynn Enterline call ‘transvestite ventriloquism’2) and complained about their pain and suffering, asking the deceitful lovers for their return as well as readers’ for their pity. Therefore, instead of focusing on the classical heroes’ deeds and the aftermaths of their legendary journeys and constant comings and goings, the three great vernacular fathers emphasised the female domestic sphere, thus challenging those genres that commemorate male supremacy and traditional values. One of the most interesting aspects Hagedorn addresses is the question of whether to emphasise wit or pathos as the main Ovidian aim. Offering a variety of modern critics’ opinions, she defends Marina Brownlee’s interpretation,3 originally based on Bakhtin’s ideas about novelistic discourses, and states that ‘Ovid’s playing of various rhetorical styles and stylistic registers against one another destabilizes ideological systems and the conventions of the epic in a way that Bakhtin views as characteristic of the novel’ (p. 25). Both Hagedorn and Brownlee accept these two apparently contradictory stylistic registers. 2 Harvey, E. D. 1990: Ventriloquized Voices: Feminist Theory and English Renaissance Texts. Routledge, London. Enterline, L. 2000: The Rhetoric of the Body from Ovid to Shakespeare. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. 3 Brownlee, M. S. 1990: The Severed Word: Ovid’s Heroides and the Novela Sentimental. Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ. 274 Reviews In searching for parallel works, Hagedorn presents a medieval anonymous poem called Deidamia Achilli. Deidamia, Achilles’s wife, tells the Statius’s Achilleid’s theme and story in an Ovidian style. This poem, written in first person and in an epistolary form, denounces Achilles for deserting his wife in a tone quite similar to that of the Heroides. Statius is a little-studied author nowadays. However, his Achilleid’s addition in the Liber Catonianus, a medieval compilation used in schools to teach grammar, makes us believe that he was a representative author between the twelfth and fourteenth centuries. Statius’s oeuvre is compared with Dante’s Commedia, specifically Inferno XXVI. Both texts are examined step by step, focusing attention on every detail they have in common. Dante seems to be influenced by Statius’s sense of fraud, which appears to be a crucial theme in the Achilleid and is embodied in the figure of Ulysses in Dante’s work. He is represented as someone who uses rhetoric to deceive people and whose ambition and individual heroism brought Achilles’s family and the city of Troy to an end. Besides, Hagedorn concludes that Dante the pilgrim, who personified the alter Aeneas of Christianity, breaks out into tears turning the Commedia into a redeemed Christian version of the Aeneid. Boccaccio’s and Chaucer’s descriptions of the figure of Theseus are analysed in this work, to show how both poets tend to avoid the mention of Ariadne and consequently, Theseus’s betrayal. Indeed, Boccaccio in his Teseida does not refer explicitly to the famous abandoned woman or her brother, the Minotaur, due to his continual playing with time in the story. Nevertheless, he gives the reader some clues to make him or her notice that Theseus is not totally trustworthy. On occasions, Boccaccio finds some similarities between him and Dante’s Ulysses, both for his relevance in the Theban conflict and for the desertion of his father, wife and son. Moreover, he shows no interest in women’s wishes, as we see in his approval of Emilie’s marriage, Ariadne’s omission or Ipolyta and Helen of Troy’s rape. 275 Rebeca Cubas Peña In his Knight’s Tale, Chaucer rewrites Boccaccio’s Teseida and Theseus is depicted as an old and wise man remembering his youthful imprudence. Still, he has done what Ariadne had predicted in Ovid’s letter: memorialized the Cretan deed in his flag, forgetting about her aid and their love story, a fact that is highly suspicious. The knight maintains the male power structures of chivalry, just as Virgil had done in his epic masterpiece. Furthermore, to reinforce these structures, female voices are kept silence. In this sense, both Boccaccio and Chaucer apparently warn readers against the narrative persona’s description of buon Teseo. They seem to say that it is not gold all that glitters. Some of Boccaccio’s minor works are also studied, particularly Amorosa Visione and Elegia di Madonna Fiammetta. They show how the Italian poet, in contrast to medieval moralists, does not try to impose any ethical burden on his readers’ minds; he understands that there is a thin line between vice and virtue in human experience. For that reason, he scrutinizes classical tales of abandoned women and the way readers respond and identify with the pathos of these heroines. In an attempt to imitate Dante’s pilgrimage, Boccaccio begins his Amorosa Visione with a dream encounter between the narrator and a female guide. Against the guide’s will, they enter into a portal where they find various walls depicting the Triumph of Wisdom, Glory, Wealth and Love. The wall depicting the Triumph of Glory was full of historical and literary figures and Laodamia, Deianira, Dido, Hypsipyle and Medea are among them. In the Triumph of Love, Ovid’s influence is still more evident: we recognize the dramatic romances between Jason, Hypsipyle and Medea; Theseus, Ariadne and Phaedra; Deidamia, Briseis and Achilles; Phyllis and Demophoon, Oenone and Paris, Laodamia and Protesilaus, Penelope and Ulysses as well as Dido and Aeneas. Their images are so vivid that they seem to be truly talking. However, it is the narrator himself who gives them voice and emotions. He becomes fascinated with all the pictures because he can feel the heroines’ suffering. However, the guide criticises his interest in what she calls ‘earthly 276 Reviews goods’. Hagedorn finds two meanings in their contrary reactions: the guide symbolizes those readers who consider literature must have a didactic purpose, and the narrator symbolizes those who creatively empathize with literature. On the other hand, his concern in Elegia di Madonna Fiammetta is, precisely, that the female narrator participates actively in the heroines’ pain. By imitation, she tries to be an abandoned woman herself with all it involves. Chapter 5, Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde: Re-gendering Abandonment, concerns Chaucer’s challenge of conventional gender roles of the abandoner and the abandoned, presenting Troilus not as the male traitor, but as the ‘abandoned woman’. Both Chaucer’s poem and its main source, Boccaccio’s Il Filostrato, are influenced by the Heroides’ description of abandoned women in different ways: Criseyde betrayed Troilus for Diomede, just like Paris was disloyal to Oenone for Helen of Troy; parallelisms and allusions to the letter of Ariadne, Penelope’s or Phyllis’s can be found as well. Nevertheless, the most interesting group of allusions refers to the epistle of Briseis. Interesting enough is the fact that Chaucer’s Criseyde directly relates to Homer’s Briseis, as Boccaccio’s Criseida derives from the character Briseida in Benoit de SaintMaure’s Roman de Troie; and Benoit created Briseida’s story and adapted her name from Homer’s Briseis. Moreover, both women have been used as objects and exchanged by men. To conclude with her study, Hagedorn analyses one of Chaucer’s minor poems, The Legend of Good Women, emphasising some ideas she had presented previously and relating them to this legendary catalogue. She applies Bakhtin’s novelistic discourses to clarify the so controversial tonal shifts of the legend, as she did in her examination of the Heroides; and she questions the god of love’s request, criticising his moralistic, conservative and simplistic tendency, as she did in relation to Boccaccio’s Amorosa Visione’s guide. Both characters eliminate the intricacies of human conduct in a desperate attempt to follow a didactic schema. Far from it, Chaucer’s narrator ‘breaks off rather than ends’; he advises us to read another book and no moral is expected: 277 Rebeca Cubas Peña readers can draw their own conclusions. The persona of the poem, like the false men of his stories, deceives the god of love through his intentional manipulation of the events and of the heroines’ traditional representations. He opposes the forced task of writing conventional stories of abandoned women as redemption for the revolutionary gender variation in his previous work, Troilus and Criseyde. In Hagedorn’s words: ‘Chaucer’s mixture of wit and pathos in the Legend ends up being parodic, but rather than mocking women’s suffering, he satirizes the stylized, monologic portraits of abandoned women in the literary tradition, which make them into exempla rather than fully developed human characters.’ (p. 191) Thanks to this original and well-structured book, we can see the European literary interconnection in medieval times through the voice of someone who loves literature and understands the influence that classical topics had on the authors at that time. We realize that the Heroides became the locus classicus for those medieval writers who wanted to portray abandoned women. For that reason, this accessible reading is particularly suitable for those interested in literature, the Middle Ages, the classical period and women’s image in literary works. Rebeca Cubas Peña University of La Laguna *†* 278 HÖSKULDUR THRÁINSSON, HJALMAR P. PETERSEN, JÓGVAN Í LON JACOBSEN & ZAKARIS SVABO HANSEN (eds) 2004: Faroese. An Overview and Reference Grammar. Tórshavn: Føroya Fróðskaparfelag. 501 pp. ISBN 99918-41-85-7 Aunque el estudio más o menos científico de la lengua feroesa se remonta principalmente al filólogo danés Rasmus Rask, quien en el año 1811 publicó su célebre Vejledning til det Islandske eller gamle Nordiske Sprog (Guia del islandés o nórdico antiguo)1, no han abundado hasta ahora las gramáticas sobre esta interesantísima lengua escandinava insular (a caballo, según las malas lenguas, entre el islandés y el danés)2, hablada en la actualidad por unas 50.000 almas radicadas sobre todo en las Islas Feroe y fuente de una loable producción literaria en forma de baladas populares de tradición, en su mayoría, medieval (y ello por no hablar también de las excelentes obras de literatura contemporánea escritas en esta lengua por autores como Heðin Brú o Gunnar Hoydal, por mencionar sólo un par de ejemplos). En lengua inglesa sólo se contaba hasta ahora con la gramática elaborada por W. B. Lockwood y publicada en 1955 (con posteriores reediciones en 1977 y 2002)3. Se trata ésta de una obra pionera en inglés y sumamente útil aún hoy en día, aunque un tanto obsoleta en algunos aspectos (especialmente el léxico). A todas luces, esta precariedad bibliográfica es por completo subsanada por la obra de Thráinsson, Petersen, Jacobsen y Hansen que vamos a reseñar 1 La parte dedicada al feroés en esta casi pionera gramática se reproduce en el interesante estudio de Povl Skårup (1964). 2 Sobre el proceso de gestación del actual feroés y la fuerte influencia no sólo lingüística, sino también ideológica, por parte del islandés y el danés resultan interesantes el libro del antropólogo Tom Nauerby (1996) y el capítulo 4 (titulado “Language Roles and Culture Contact: The Linguistic Development of the Faroe Islands”) del libro de los también antropólogos Jonathan Wylie y David Margolin (1981). 3 Excepción sea hecha de la útil sinopsis gramatical del feroés realizada en inglés por Michael P. Barnes y Eivind Weyhe (1994). Mariano González, Selim 13 (2005-2006): 277—283 Mariano González Campo brevemente a continuación, y de la que puede aseverarse para empezar que se trata de una de las mejores, y más completas, gramáticas publicadas sobre una lengua nórdica en los últimos años, incluso superior en varios aspectos a lo publicado sobre la lengua nórdica clásica por excelencia, el islandés, con la que el feroés está muy estrechamente emparentada (hay quien dice, tal vez injustamente, que el feroés no es más que un dialecto del islandés). Entrando ya en materia, hemos de decir que el libro Faroese. An Overview and Reference Grammar se compone de 7 capítulos principales subdivididos en una serie de epígrafes que, a su vez, se dividen en varios subepígrafes, todo lo cual suma en conjunto la nada desdeñable cifra de 501 páginas (incluyendo, por supuesto, el índice de materias y una extensa, y actualizada, bibliografía reproducida tanto al final de cada capítulo como al final del libro en sí). El primer capítulo (“Orthography and Pronunciation”) consiste en una introducción a la ortografía y pronunciación del feroés donde, entre otras cosas, se establece un útil sistema de transcripción fonética de esta lengua llena de irregularidades y características especiales debidas precisamente a la notable falta de correspondencia entre su ortografía y pronunciación. A modo de ejemplo, cabe señalar que a diferencia del islandés, la letra <ð> es normalmente muda o adquiere valores fonéticos totalmente distintos como [v], [j], [w] o [g] dependiendo de la posición en que se encuentre dentro de una palabra. Esta falta de correspondencia entre ortografía y pronunciación constituyó uno de los debates más interesantes entre los padres fundadores del actual feroés, quienes oscilaban entre una transcripción totalmente fonética de dicha lengua o una fundamentación etimológica basada en el islandés o el nórdico antiguo. Ésta última opción fue la que resultó vencedora de la mano de V. U. Hammershaimb en 1846, fecha fundacional del feroés moderno. El segundo capítulo (“Phonetics and Phonology”) se centra en fonética (ampliando notablemente lo dicho en el primer capítulo) y trata sobre temas como el acento en feroés o las cualidades de las vocales y las consonantes. De hecho, la fonética constituye uno de los aspectos más complicados del feroés y, 280 Reviews no en vano, una considerable parte de los artículos de investigación publicados sobre esta lengua se centran en cuestiones fonéticas y dialectológicas. Especial relevancia tienen aquí dos características distintivas del feroés: la inserción de ligazón (“glide insertion”) y la denominada, en feroés, skerping (tecnicismo que corresponde al término alemán Verschärfung), es decir, un aumento consonántico. La primera característica consiste en insertar [j], [v] o [w] entre dos vocales, normalmente cuando en una de ellas se produce diptongación, o cuando entre ellas se halla una consonante muda (por ejemplo, la <ð>) u otra susceptible de fáciles alteraciones fonéticas (por ejemplo, la <g>). Así, siður (“costumbre”) se pronunciaría [si:jur]. La segunda característica ocurre básicamente: 1) entre los denominados “diptongos en u” por una parte y una vocal por otra (se trataría aquí del ‘aumento en –gv-’: rógva (“remar”. Cfr. el nórdico antiguo róa) y 2) entre los llamados “diptongos en i” y otra vocal (aquí se produciría el ‘aumento en –ggj-’: doyggja (“morir”. Cfr. el nórdico antiguo deyja). Por su parte, el tercer capítulo (“Inflectional Morphology, Grammatical Categories and Word Classes”) es el más extenso del libro (seguido por el capítulo 5 y el 7 respectivamente) y analiza todo lo que constituye la condición sine qua non de la gramática feroesa (y, por extensión, de toda lengua): Sustantivos, artículos, pronombres, adjetivos, numerales, verbos, preposiciones, adverbios y conjunciones. Como no podía ser de otra manera, especial importancia tiene aquí el sistema flexivo del feroés, muy semejante al del islandés en términos generales pero con interesantes rasgos distintivos como, por ejemplo, la progresiva desaparición del genitivo (en varias ocasiones se trata ya de una desaparición de hecho) y su sustitución por construcciones preposicionales como hjá + dativo. Al finalizar la lectura y estudio de este capítulo es casi inevitable sacar la conclusión de que el feroés posee un sistema de declinaciones y conjugaciones algo más simplificado que el islandés, pero con tantas irregularidades, excepciones y pinceladas distintivas que, a la larga, resulta un tanto más complicado que el de éste último. 281 Mariano González Campo El cuarto capítulo (“Derivational Morphology”) versa sobre la formación de palabras compuestas y la relación semántica entre sus elementos. También dedica unos subepígrafes a los sufijos con los que se derivan sustantivos, adjetivos, verbos y adverbios y a la prefijación. Resulta interesante aquí constatar la considerable productividad de la lengua feroesa, hasta el punto de crear, por ejemplo, una serie de curiosos participios compuestos a partir de locuciones verbales. Así, el verbo koma aftur fyri seg (“volver en sí”, “recobrarse”) produce el original participio afturfyrisegkomin (“vuelto en sí”, “recobrado”), donde se incluye en la misma palabra adverbio, preposición, pronombre reflexivo (con su correspondiente concordancia de caso) y, por supuesto, el participio del verbo base. El quinto capítulo (“Syntax”) está íntegramente dedicado a la sintaxis de la lengua feroesa y constituye, junto con el capítulo 3, uno de los pilares de esta obra. Aquí se nos habla sobre la concordancia de casos entre distintos componentes flexivos de una frase, los patrones principales del orden de palabras y algunas de sus variaciones, la voz pasiva y media, los distintos tipos de complementos de una oración, el uso de los pronombres y los reflexivos y, por último, las oraciones subordinadas. La inclusión aquí (como en casi todos los capítulos) de numerosos ejemplos ilustrativos, ayuda considerablemente a entender con más claridad lo que se está explicando en los apartados más teóricos, añadiendo a veces comparaciones con el islandés u otra lengua escandinava moderna (especialmente danés y noruego) para facilitar aún más dicha comprensión. Por otra parte, el capítulo sexto (“Dialects and Synchronic Variation”) se centra en el importante tema de los aspectos dialectológicos del feroés pues, pese a contar con una población de hablantes bastante reducida, se trata de una lengua con considerables variaciones fonéticas, morfológicas y sintácticas entre las 18 islas que constituyen el archipiélago de las Feroe. Este capítulo incluye una interesante introducción sobre la clasificación y división dialectal del feroés llevada ya a cabo en el siglo XIX por parte de filólogos como el ya mencionado 282 Reviews V. U. Hammershaimb o Jakob Jakobsen (el célebre especialista en la lengua norn de las Islas Shetlands). Para mayor claridad de este complejo apartado, el libro ofrece un mapa ilustrativo en la página 368, tras la bibliografía correspondiente a este capítulo. La conclusión principal sería que la mayor diferencia dialectal se produce entre las islas situadas al sur de Skopunarfjørður (Sandoy, Suðuroy, etc…) y las situadas al norte del mismo “fiordo”4 (Streymoy, Eysturoy, Vágar, etc…). Por último, el capítulo séptimo (“History and Diachronic Variation”) ofrece una buena introducción a la génesis de la lengua feroesa desde la Edad Media hasta nuestros días. Especial interés tiene (por su trasfondo ideológico) el epígrafe dedicado a la fijación del feroés moderno, y su consiguiente reivindicación como lengua oficial de las Islas Feroe frente al predominio del danés, por parte de una serie de individuos y asociaciones nacionalistas del siglo XIX. Por lo demás, este capítulo trata también sobre fonética histórica, morfología histórica, cambios sintácticos y la influencia extranjera sufrida por el feroés (especialmente desde el danés y el inglés5), así como sobre la política de purificación aplicada por las autoridades lingüísticas pertinentes a través del denominado málnevnd (“comité lingüístico”). El libro concluye con una extensa bibliografía de prieta letra (pp.467-486), un índice de lenguas mencionadas a lo largo de la obra y otro de materias. En conclusión, hay que decir que se trata de una obra casi definitiva para quienes tengan interés en conocer con cierto detalle diversos aspectos de la interesantísima, a la par que desconocida, lengua feroesa. El libro posee una presentación austera pero eficaz y sólamente habría que lamentar las erratas 4 Entrecomillo aquí el término fiordo porque basta con echar un vistazo a un mapa de las Islas Feroe para darse cuenta de que no se trata de un fiordo propiamente dicho. Sin embargo, los feroeses ha reproducido en sus islas los esquemas geográficos de su ancestral Noruega natal, ocasionando en ocasiones ilustrativas paradojas. Sobre este interesantísimo, y complicado, aspecto de la lengua feroesa resulta recomendable el capítulo 2 (“A Sense of Place”) del libro de Wylie y Margolin (1981). 5 Sobre la influencia del inglés en el feroés véase especialmente Jóansson (1997). 283 Mariano González Campo que aparecen en diversos lugares (especialmente en algunos ejemplos y tablas de declinaciones) debidas posiblemente a problemas de maquetación de un texto tan complejo como este. En cualquier caso, se trata de erratas perfectamente subsanables en una plausible segunda edición y que serán detectadas con cierta facilidad por el ojo avizor debidamente entrenado en este tipo de lenguas escandinavas insulares; erratas, en definitiva, que en ningún momento desmerecen la alta calidad y el tremendo esfuerzo invertidos en esta magnífica obra, muy recomendable para todos los interesados en las lenguas germánicas tanto antiguas como modernas (y el feroés es un buen ejemplo, junto con el islandés, de síntesis entre ambas). Mariano González Campo Universidad de Murcia REFERENCIAS Barnes, Michael P. y Eivind Weyhe 1994: “Faroese”, en Ekkehard König y Johann van der Auwera (eds.): The Germanic Languages. Londres: Routledge, pp.190-218. Jóansson, Tórður 1997: English Loanwords in Faroese. Tórshavn: Fannir. Lockwood, W. B. 1977: An Introduction to Modern Faroese. Tórshavn: Føroya Skúlabókagrunnur. Nauerby, Tom 1996: No Nation is an Island. Language, Culture, and National Identity in the Faroe Islands. Århus: SNAI-North Atlantic Publications/Aarhus University Press. Skårup, Povl 1964: Rasmus Rask og Færøsk (Færoensia VI). Copenhague: Ejnar Munksgaard. Wylie, Jonathan y David Margolin 1981: The Ring of Dancers. Images of Faroese Culture. Filadelfia: University of Pennsylvania Press. 284 Reviews *†* 285 MOSKOWICH-SPIEGEL FANDIÑO, ISABEL & BEGOÑA CRESPO GARCÍA 2004: New Trends in English Historical Linguistics: An Atlantic View. A Coruña (Spain): Universidade da Coruña. 243 pp. New Trends in English Historical Linguistics: An Atlantic View, edited by Moskowich-Spiegel Fandiño and Crespo García, is a recent compendium of several articles and reflections on the newest findings and trends in English Historical Linguistics. In fact, this book appears as a useful summary of the last innovations on the theoretical (and not so theoretical!) aspects of Historical Linguistics. The introduction of the book, signed by both editors, becomes a true defence of Linguistics as a science worth of being studied, apart from offering the reader a short but complete review of the pathway followed until reaching the status given to it today. The new trends on the study of Historical Linguistics, hand in hand with the branch of Sociolinguistics since the last decades of the 20th century, are also dealt with in the introduction, which ends by explaining how the set of articles featured in the book has to do both with Linguistics and Philology. Various well-known scholars and specialists on the field of English Historical Linguistics have contributed to the monograph with good-quality articles. John Anderson, in his article on syntactic change and on the development of subjunctive periphrases in English, regrets the traditional treatment of phonology and syntax and “the relative neglect of syntactic categorisation” (p. 70) until present times. So he has suggested a new type of analysis in terms of notionally-based categories applicable to the changes involving some of the most common modal English verbs. Fran Colman, for her part, offers us a defence of Philology. As this discipline is concerned with internal and external linguistic reconstructions, Colman avoids defining it as a “closed discipline”. She also presents a study of personal names on Anglo-Saxon coins as evidence Judit Martínez, Selim 13 (2005-2006): 285—287 Judit Martínez for reconstructing the Old English language. The only Spanish contributor to the volume, Luis Iglesias-Rábade, introduces a corpus-based study on Middle English prepositions referring to path. His research, full of graphs and figures, has been based on the texts available in the Helsinki Corpus of Middle English, and it provides some noteworthy conclusions on semantic and pragmatic terms. All the above papers deal with Old and Middle English. The fourth article in New Trends in English Historical Linguistics: An Atlantic View discusses the grammaticalization process of the progressive aspect in English during the 18th century. Professor Catherine Smith has used a corpus of personal letters from well-known writers and authors of that time, such as Joseph Addison, Alexander Pope or Jonathan Swift. In the paper “Evidence for Diachronic Semantic Change in the Historical Thesaurus of English: A Cognitive Linguistic Approach”, Louise Sylvester studies the semantic shift of some words along the history of English. She has completed her evidences with considerations on cognitive psychology, which I personally found really adequate for a type of study dealing with semantic change. The last article in the volume, signed by Yoko Iyeiri, studies the presence of the auxiliary do in negations in several literary works of the contemporary period. She recognises that former studies on the development of do have only taken into account evidence until 1700. In her article, she proves that there are several conditions underlying the use of negative constructions with or without do in the eighteenth century. In a little more than 200 pages, the book reviewed here offers the reader some of the latest conclusions and reflections on the discipline of English Historical Linguistics. I reckon that it is a book for linguists and scholars who are very much into Historical Linguistics, and specially for those who may be only interested in the kinds of studies described in the different articles. However, the introduction offers wider contributions to the discipline and to Philology in general. 288 Reviews In my opinion, the high quality of the different papers included in the volume, as well as the introduction, outstandingly show the increasing interest on exploring older stages of the English language. I personally agree with the idea that it is impossible to understand a language fully without looking at its development diachronically. New Trends in English Historical Linguistics: An Atlantic View helps scholars deepen in that view, apart from widening it by completing “our original ‘Atlantic view’ on Historical Linguistics […] (with) more Eastern perspectives” (p. 27). Judit Martínez Magaz University of León *†* 289 MOURÓN-FIGUEROA, CRISTINA 2005: El ciclo de York. Sociedad y cultura en la Inglaterra bajomedieval. Santiago de Compostela: Universidade de Santiago de Compostela. 310 pp. ISBN 84-8121-978-9. Price: 19,23 €. From the 1950s onwards, there has been an increasing interest in the Corpus Christi Cycles so long forgotten and disregarded as object of serious literary study. Exceptionally, as early as the year 1885, Ms. Toulmin Smith had already edited the longest, most complete, most lyrical, and best preserved mystery cycle, namely, the York Cycle. Nearly a hundred years later the text was again edited by Beadle (1982), whose edition has come to be considered the authorised version, and Beadle & Meredith (1984), who also edited a facsimile of the original text. These two editions, especially Beadle’s (1982), made the text both popular and accessible to a wider audience, while providing a reliable corpus to be studied and analysed by other scholars, such as Twycross (1978, 1982, 1994), Davidson (1984), Johnston (1979, 1985, 1987), Meredith (1979, 1980, 1981), and Rogerson (1978, 1979). These studies deal mainly with issues relating to performance, edition, and literary and dramatic criticism, occasionally including some sociocultural readings such as Horner’s (1998) study on maintenance and bastard feudalism. The success and revival of the York Cycle is evident in the fact that the text has been performed, at least in the city of York, since 19511. The present book, on the one hand, parallels the current social importance and revival of the cycle and, on the other hand, contributes both to a better understanding of the text and complements recent research into purely textual, literary or dramatic aspects of the York cycle by offering a thorough and complete sociocultural description of late medieval England based on the 1 Although today the performance at York might be regarded as mere entertainment for the tourists, a more serious performance undertaken by the Centre for Medieval Studies at the University of Toronto had already taken place in this same city by 1977. Isabel Moskowich-Spiegel, Selim 13 (2005-2006): 289—293 Isabel Moscowich-Spiegel study of anachronisms found in the text. The book is written in Spanish but it should be noted that, contrary to what could be regarded as a demerit, this contributes to divulge its contents, and by extension, an understanding of the social and cultural panorama of late medieval England, to scientific, university, and Spanish-speaking communities that would not otherwise have access to them. As the study is based on the analysis of the corpus formed by a detailed and careful selection of the most relevant instances containing anachronisms, and is aimed, in broad terms, at Spanish-speaking students and scholars, it is only natural that examples in English should be followed by their corresponding translations into Spanish. Because no translation of the cycle is available in Spanish, the author has made a great and most welcome effort in successfully rendering the Middle English version into Spanish, maintaining a very acceptable level of linguistic accuracy, while preserving the text’s peculiar medieval style. In spite of the fact that the translation overlooks the rhyme, rhythm, and characteristic alliterative verse, emphasis should be placed on the success with which the author has translated more specialised terms related for example to the activity and different tools of the guilds, forms of polite address among the characters or greetings, salutations, and exclamations. The book is divided into seven chapters preceded by a brief introduction and preface, and concludes with some final remarks and considerations. It also includes both an appendix with a bilingual version of the titles of all the different episodes and updated bibliographical references. In chapter 1, the author briefly introduces the reader to the world of York and its cycle by explaining processional performance and the role the City Corporation and guilds played in it. She also confronts the controversial issue of authorship and copyists and includes a review of Biblical and apocryphal sources. Indeed, it is a most necessary framing chapter which contributes to a better understanding of the literary characteristics of the sociocultural approach. 292 Reviews Strictly speaking, the sociocultural analysis begins in chapter 2. King Herod, bishops Annas and Caiaphas, and Pilate embody the vices and virtues of contemporary monarchs, noblemen, and churchmen. In this way, the author applies and complements studies like May’s (1983) on the virtues of medieval kingship or McKisack’s (1971) description of the hierarchy of clergymen. The social status of knights and soldiers is also described and used to exemplify the concepts of maintenance and bastard feudalism. The author considers the sociolinguistic context as well, by introducing a note on the linguistic habits of the characters and the society surrounding them. Chapter 3 focuses on law and order. Through an exhaustive analysis of the trials of Jesus, the author describes both royal and local medieval courts, the types of judges or officials presiding them, the difference between secular and ecclesiastical courts, together with references to civil and canon law. Moreover, there is an accurate account of several types of royal officials and administrators (beadles, sherriffs, stewards, bailiffs, and clerks), as well as a consideration of crimes and offences such as treason, felony or heresy along with their corresponding punishments. The various kinds of medieval courts, such as the Hallmote or the Curia Regis and the confusion of the duties of the king’s officials, explained by Bennett (1960), are brought to light in this chapter. It is also worth mentioning the author’s appropriate application to of the differences between trespas, and transgression or treason and felony, already put forward by Hyams (2000) and Barron (1981), respectively. Finally, the chapter describes some of the activities of soldiers who, as those ultimately responsible for upholding law and order, arrested, tortured, and physically punished transgressors. The working activity of trade and artisan guilds as reflected in the Cycle constitutes the core of chapter 4. The author offers a most interesting and agreeable picture of God and Noah as master and apprentice, together with references to the actual tools and instruments used by contemporary medieval shipwrights, which results in an excellent example of real and everyday life 293 Isabel Moscowich-Spiegel brought onto the stage. There are also additional comments on the activities of other guilds, like the ones performed by tilethatchers or pinners. Examples related to agriculture and livestock farming are also included. However, the low number of references seems to suggest that the reader could have been spared the analysis of these two aspects. Chapter 5 contains a well-balanced description of the cultural component of the research. The author studies several matters classified into two complementary groups: the one including everyday activities such as food, dress, funeral rites, pilgrimages, games, entertainment and ceremonies, and the other dealing with references to medieval general knowledge, including the animal world, diseases (the plague, leprosy), and popular medicine. For example, the symbolism of the animal imagery present in the York Cycle reproduces that compiled in medieval bestiaries, and follows other studies such as the ones by George & Yapp (1995) and Charbonneau-Lassay (1996). A most faithful and interesting portrait of female social roles, the status of medieval women, and the characteristics of the medieval family are given in chapter 6. The analysis is so conscientious that the real English woman of the later Middle Ages becomes flesh and blood before our own eyes. This study of the female world is most welcome as this subject has been, in broad terms, traditionally disregarded by historians. In so doing, the author adheres to the popularity of current studies on women in general, and on medieval English women in particular. She follows previous work like the ones by Duby (1994), Goldberg (1995) or Leyser (1995). The depiction of Mary and Eve as embodying the vices and virtues of real women stands out. The woman of the York Cycle is described as having a twofold nature: sometimes she is a restless worker, a caring mother, an affectionate wife or a chaste widow, but she can also become a rebel, or a gossiping and deceitful human being. The misogynistic atmosphere surrounding the cycle reflects the prejudices of contemporary patriarchal society and other social constraints on women. The subjects of motherhood and education are also analysed by the author. 294 Reviews The last chapter describes the audience of the cycle and the strategies of communication used by playwrights to fuse the ordinary with the dramatic, and considers those aspects of the Cycle related to its performance. The public, mainly lay and illiterate, was the main reason for the existence of a cycle which is pervaded with didacticism and which successfully transmits the message of Human Redemption. Jürgen-Diller’s (1991) classification of the strategies (namely, framing, straddling, and homiletic) used by medieval playwrights to put the ordinary, real world in touch with the dramatic world are successfully applied to offer an accurate description of the characters performing these dramatic functions. References to the performance itself, such as the use of wagons or the processional character of the performance, are also included and serve to emphasise the dramatic nature of the whole text. In short, the book functions as a coherent unit, the thorough analysis serving a twofold purpose: to describe one of the English mystery cycles from a new perspective, the sociocultural one, in this way filling today’s gap in this type of studies, and to bring the Spanish-speaking scholar or student close to the sociocultural context of late medieval England through the world of theatre. Isabel Moskowich-Spiegel Fandiño University of Corunna WORKS CITED Beadle, R. 1982: The York Plays. London: Arnold. Beadle, R. & Meredith, P. 1983: The York Play. A facsimile of British Library MS Additional 35290 together with a facsimile of the Ordo Paginarum section of the A/Y Memorandum Book. Leeds: the University of Leeds, School of English. 295 Isabel Moscowich-Spiegel Davidson, C. 1984: From Creation to Doom: the York Cycle of Mystery Plays. New York: AMS Press. Horner, O. 1998: ‘Us Must Make Lies’: Witness, Evidence and Proof in the York Resurrection. Medieval English Theatre 20: 24-76. Johnston, A. F. & Rogerson, M. 1979: Records of Early English Drama. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Johnston, A. F. 1985: The York Corpus Christi Play: A Dramatic Structure Based on Performance Practice. In Braet, H. & al. eds. 1985: The Theatre in the Middle Ages. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 362-373. Johnston, A. F. 1987: The York Cycle and the Chester Cycle. What Do the Records Tells us? In Johnston, A. F. ed. 1987: Editing Early English Drama: Special problems and New Directions. New York: AMS Press, 121-143. Jürgen-Diller, H. 1991: Theatrical Pragmatics: The Actor-Audience Relationship from the Mystery Cycles to the Early Tudor Comedies. In Davidson, C. & Stroupe, H. eds. 1991. Drama in the Middle Ages. Comparative and Critical Essays. New York: AMS Press Inc., 291-321. May, S. 1983: Good Kings and Tyrants: A Re-assessment of the Regal Figure on the Medieval Stage. Medieval English Theatre 5, 2: 87-102. McKisack, M. 1959: The Fourteenth Century. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Meredith, P. 1979: The Development of the York Mercers’ Pageant Waggon. Medieval English Theatre 1: 5-18. Meredith, P. 1980: The Ordo Paginarum and the Development of the York Tilemakers’ Pageant. Leeds Studies in English 11: 59-73. Meredith, P. 1981: John Clerke’s Hand in the York Register. Leeds Studies in English 12: 245-271. 296 Reviews Rogerson, M. 1978: The York Corpus Christi Plays: Some Practical Details. Leeds Studies in English 10: 97-106. Toulmin Smith, L. 1963[1885]: York Plays: The Plays Performed by the Crafts or Mysteries of York on the Day of Corpus Christi in the 14th, 15th and 16th Centuries. Now First Printed from the Unique Manuscript in the Library of Lord Ashburnham. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Twycross, M. 1978: Places to Hear the Play: Pageant Stations at York, 13981572. REED Newsletter 2: 10-33. Twycrosss, M. 1982: Playing The Resurrection. In Heyworth, P. L. ed. 1982. Studies for J. A. W. Bennett. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 273-296. Twycross, M. 1994: The Theatricality of Medieval English Plays. In Beadle, R. ed. 1994: The Cambridge Companion to Medieval English Theatre. Cambridge: CUP, 37-84. *†* 297 EDITORS’ NOTE We wish to acknowledge here the hard work and generous disposition of Selim’s previous Editorial Team, as well as –and very especially- that of all the members of the Editorial and Advisory Boards. Without their peer reviewing this journal would not be possible in its present form. Also our heartfelt thanks to the anonymous experts who have been consulted upon occasion. It is also in order to announce that J. L. Bueno, the previous secretary, has passed on that office to David Moreno in 2007, and that D. Moreno has already incorporated to editorial work. For issue number 13, Selim received 17 contributions, of which 10 were accepted for publication and consequently are issued here in their final versions, some of them after adequate revision and changes in their earlier drafts. The editors 299 SELIM – STYLESHEET & INSTRUCTIONS TO AUTHORS Journal of the Spanish Society for Mediaeval English Language and Literature Revista de la Sociedad Española de Lengua y Literatura Inglesa Medieval Selim publishes articles, notes, reviews, book notes and other scientific papers that contribute to the advancement of Medieval English Studies and Comparative Medieval Studies. Originals submitted for possible publication will be subject to peer reviewing, and should not have been sent to other journals or means of publication. Selim assumes that all authors have the intellectual copyright to their originals, and that other authors quoted as “personal communication” sources also consent to being cited. Contributions are to be sent to the Editors (selim@web.uniovi.es), and should follow these principles: 1.- Send your work on a machine-readable file via email, using a word processing programme, or on a pdf format. The file should include the author(s)’s name(s), a contact address & affiliation(s). If using traditional mail, send your proposal to the editors’ postal address. Authors will receive a confirmation of reception and will be informed about the result of the process of reviewing as soon as possible. 2.- Once your proposal has been accepted a pdf file or a printed high-quality version of the article(s), note(s), etc. may be required by the editors. 3.- Originals should be sent preferably on a standard text-processor file, and although there is not an extension limit, the followings recommendations may be taken into consideration: ± 8,000 words for articles; ± 3,000 words for longer notes and critical reviews, and ± 1,500 words for shorter notes. 300 4.- Originals should include a ± 150 words abstract in English, and a short list of keywords. The abstract or summary is to explain the purpose of the paper, method(s), results and, eventually, conclusions. 5.- Figures, tables, graphs, pictures and illustrations of any kind must be properly titled and numbered, and preferably placed at the end of the file. Their maximum size is 10.00 cms (width) X 16.00 cms (height). The journal is printed in black & white, but the electronic journal admits colour. 6.- Please avoid using tabs, return, and paragraph special formats as much as possible. Nesting for quotations must be defined for the whole cite. A style template is available upon request. 7.- Footnotes should be consecutively numbered in the electronic file, and placed at the foot, or at the end of the document if a printed version is sent. Authors using other word processors than the standard ones must not use the automatic numbering for footnotes that their processors may have, but instead write the footnote reference numbers between brackets, f. i.: (13). Sources references must be kept within the main text in abbreviated authordate form (f.i.: Lacarra 1989: 3), while footnotes should be reserved for further information, discussion, etc. 8.- Avoid using non-Laser fonts (Times-based fonts are recommended, especially Peter Baker’s Junicode: http://junicode.sourceforge.net/), and please let the editors know which other fonts might have been typed into the files. 9.- References, alphabetically ordered, should follow the author-date form and listed at the end of the original. Examples: D’Evelyn, Ch. & A. J. Mill 1956a: The South English Legendary. Vol. 1. [EETS.], Oxford, Oxford University Press. D’Evelyn, Ch. & A. J. Mill 1956b: The South English Legendary. Vol. 2. [EETS.], Oxford, Oxford University Press. Keynes, S. D. 2007/07/07[2006/11/23]: SDK Homepage. http://www.trin.cam.ac.uk/sdk13/sdk13home.html 301 Kunstmann, P. 1981: Treize Miracles de Nostre-Dame tirés du MS B.N.Fr 2094. Ottawa, Editions de l’Université d’Ottawa. Lacarra, M. J. ed. 1989: Sendebar. Madrid, Ediciones Cátedra. Lecoy, F. ed. 1970: Guillaume de Lorris et Jean de Meun: Le Roman de la Rose, 3 vols. Paris, H. Champion. Russell, P. E. 1961: Robert Payn and Juan de Cuenca, Translators of the Confessio Amantis. Medium Ævum, 30.1. Shaw, P., A. Bravo, S. González & F. García eds. 1989: Actas del Primer Congreso Internacional de la Sociedad Española de Lengua y Literatura Inglesa Medieval (SELIM), - Articles and Papers of the First International Conference of the Spanish Society for English Mediaeval Language and Literature (SELIM). Oviedo, Servicio de Publicaciones de la Universidad de Oviedo. 10.- Disclaimer: Selim suggests that the principles stated above should be carefully followed by contributors. The editors reserve the right to emend and alter when thought necessary, but not without consultation with the author(s). Style, language, opinions, and copyright permissions are the sole responsibility of the author(s). Explicit hoc totum pro Xpto da mihi potum *†* 302