MEDIAEVAL LITERATURE. 475 



final form from the second half of the 11th Century. The curious 

 and amusing epic, which forms the present subject, belongs to the 

 same period. Its hero is also Charlemagne, but quantum mututus 

 ,ab Mo Carolo that moves before us in the Chanson de Roland ! 



It was in those very days, which saw the birth, in France, 

 of the "Chanson de Roland," that a certain jongleur appeared 

 before an audience of villagers and citizens, who, between St. Denis 

 and Paris, were celebrating the annual feast of the sacred relics, 

 the famous so-called Lendit, which, according to the clergy, had 

 been instituted by Charlemagne at Aix-la-Chapelle, but which 

 Charles the Bold, his grandson, had transferred to the latter 

 locality, along with the relics (Gaston Paris). The monks of the 

 ancient abbey, burning with holy zeal, have just been exhibiting 

 their marvellous treasures before the pious pilgrims : one of the 

 nails of the holy cross, the crown of thorns of our Saviour, and 

 many more. A goodly sum has been collected for the treasury of 

 the Sanctuary. But Christian worship and devotion have now had 

 their day with the pilgrims, and a craving for merriment makes 

 itself felt. The mellow tones of the instruments of minstrels and 

 jongleurs are heard, the hour of wine and wassail has arrived, 

 •and cheerfully the crowd disperses to participate in the various 

 amusements which are lavishly held out to them on all sides. The 

 jongleur, dressed in a long, dark raiment, his vielle hitched to his 

 belt, climbs on to a bench, ready to recite and sing. It appears 

 that, unlike his colleagues, the clergy do not consider him to be 

 a worker of iniquity and an outcast. The monks of St. Denis may 

 rather look upon him as a collaborator in their holy task. For, 

 in the poem that he is going to recite, the self -same relics, which 

 just now they exhibited before the crowd, will be glorified and 

 sung; holy relics, which according to the universally believed 

 legend, Charlemagne brought home from the Holy Land. It is 

 the poem which, on its publication, was given by its editor the 

 title of Pelerinage de Charlemagne. After a prelude on the vielle, 

 which gives the audience an opportunity to quiet down and rise 

 to the occasion, the jongleur starts off: — Once upon a day King 

 Charles had gone to church at St. Denis. He had dressed in full 

 royal array : from his shoulders floated down the purple velvet, 

 his crown was on his head, his sword of state was hanging from 

 his belt. When, after reverently making the sign of the cross, he 

 had been for a while strutting to and fro in front of his courtiers, 

 immensely pleased with himself and with his trappings, he stepped 

 outside, took his queen by the hand, led her to a spreading olive 

 tree, and towering before her in all his glory, he said: "Tell me, 

 mylady, whether you did ever see in your life a more handsome 

 and perfect king than me, and whether you can imagine any 

 prince, whom sceptre, crown, and sword suit so passing well?" 

 "Surely, mylord, I can," answers the queen, with a quizzical glance 

 at her vainglorious spouse, "I know one who leaves you far behind 

 in gracefulness of form and princelv splendour." "His name!" 

 ■shouts the king, who has got pallid with amazement and fury. 

 "His name! I want to see this paragon, and if you lie I swear it 



