[In the essay below, Bourne examines the themes and sources of a number of tales in the Gesta Romanorum.]

The popularity of the Gesta Romanorum during the Middle Ages is abundantly shown by the enormous number of manuscripts which are still to be found in the libraries of England and of continental Europe. Its importance for the history of literature, particularly since the thirteenth century, can be no less clearly seen by a glance at the tables at the end of Oesterley's critical Latin edition in which are listed, under the number of each tale, writings which have in whole or in part been influenced by the Gesta, or in some cases have perhaps had a common source. The list of such titles sometimes numbers forty for one tale, often as many as thirty. That the list is not complete goes without saying, although Oesterley has carefully compiled works cited by previous editors and has added many from his own observation.

This collection of tales from classical, oriental, and unknown sources, with a moralization in the form of an allegory attached to each, was evidently first compiled as a help for preachers, who used them to add force and interest to their sermons, perhaps even to arouse their hearers from drowsiness. Honorius of Autun in the sermon which he published for use on Septuagesima Sunday showed his sympathy for weary parishioners by recalling that some of them had come from a great distance and would have a long journey home again; that others might have guests or crying babies waiting for them. It was at this point that he counseled the preacher to use a story with an allegory. “Haec saepius intermisce sermonibus tuis. Nam huiuscemodi verbis eis fastidium tollis.”¹ That the custom persisted even into the Renaissance is clear from the words of Erasmus ridiculing the clergy: “Hic mihi stultam aliquam et indoctam fabulam, ex Speculo opinor Historiali, aut Gestis Romanorum in medium adferunt, et eandem interpretantur allegorice, tropologice, et anagogice.”²

The date of the compilation of these tales has been rather generally conceded to be the latter part of the thirteenth or the first years of the fourteenth century. It is evident at least, as Oesterley points out, that considerable time must have elapsed between the date of compilation and the middle of the fourteenth century, by which time there had already come to be a great diversity among the manuscripts.

The oldest edition, which is in Latin and contains one hundred and fifty or one hundred and fifty-one tales, was published at Utrecht some time previous to 1473, probably in 1472. A second edition in this same form was printed at Cologne soon afterward. The collection was almost immediately increased to one hundred and eighty-one tales, and was published at Cologne only two or three years after the editio princeps. This is the form, usually called the Vulgate, in which the tales were to appear many times both in Latin editions and in translations.

An edition in German containing ninety-five tales was published but once, at Augsburg, in 1489. Many of the stories were identical with those of the Latin edition, although the order in which they appeared was different; others were entirely new.

An edition in English containing only forty-three numbers was first published by Wynkin de Worde at London in 1510-1515. It contained some tales not in the Latin edition, the order was different, and there were also deviations in those tales which were in substance the same as those of the Latin version. This early English edition, although of importance and interest in the history and transmission of the Gesta, added nothing new, for it was some time later identified as a translation of a Latin manuscript, Harl. 5369, in London. During the reign of Queen Elizabeth, as Herrtage in the introduction to his edition for the Early English Text Society shows, this translation was brought into prominence by a man named Richard Robinson, who, finding it “both of imperfect phrase in the historie and of indecent application in the moralitie,” modernized the language and changed the application to suit his own idea of propriety. His title-page read as follows: “A record of Ancyent Historyes, intituled in Latin Gesta Romanorum, translated (auctore, ut supponitur, Johane Leylando, antiquario); by mee perused, corrected, and bettered.” It is this work of Robinson's, the first edition of which was published in 1577, the seventh in 1601, that is quoted by many writers of the Elizabethan Age. For the period extending from this time up to the early years of the nineteenth century there are listed in Hazlitt's Handbook to Early English Literature fourteen editions, a list which is doubtless incomplete.

In 1842 Swan's translation of the Vulgate appeared. Four years before this Sir Frederic Madden had edited for the Roxburghe Club the Early English Version of the Gesta Romanorum based on three manuscripts which contained old English translations probably made in the time of Henry VI. This work was in 1879 reëdited for the Early English Text Society by Sidney J. H. Herrtage, who added short sketches of all the tales which do not occur in the three English manuscripts.

In 1872, seven years before the reëditing of the old English translations, there had appeared at Berlin, edited by Hermann Oesterley, a critical Latin edition of the one hundred and eighty-one stories of the Vulgate with an appendix containing tales found only in certain continental manuscripts and not included in the Vulgate, the Latin manuscripts of England, or the English translations. The volume also contains a tabulation of all the manuscripts consulted, with a rubric or heading sufficient to indicate in general the content of each tale. This is by far the most important edition of recent years, prepared as it was after the discovery and careful examination of many manuscripts.

The manuscripts are almost all written in Latin. Of the one hundred and thirty-eight listed by Oesterley all are Latin with the exception of twenty-four German and three English; the last, however, are not original versions but the old English translations which were edited by Madden and Herrtage. It is to be noted that of this large number of manuscripts and of a few others which have been found at different places in Austria very few are copies; by far the larger number show some definite independence either in the tales which they include, or in the version of either the tale or the moralization. It is also a rather startling fact that no manuscript has yet been discovered which is the original of the earliest Latin edition or of the Vulgate.

In regard to the early history of the work Oesterley, who believes that he detected traces of English origin in some of the oldest manuscripts, is of the opinion that the tales were first compiled in England; that this collection found its way to the continent, where it was changed to some extent and additions were made; that when on the invention of printing the editio princeps and the Vulgate were published, these editions appeared in England so soon as to make an English edition unnecessary, and to crowd into the background the manuscripts in England, which had kept a rather distinct character of their own.

The importance of the Gesta Romanorum as a source of literary productions will be indicated to some extent by the names of Chaucer, Hoccleve, Lydgate, Shakespeare, Parnell and Horace Walpole, all of whom have come within its influence. On the other hand, the tales are no less important and interesting in their relation to the sources from which they themselves were derived.

The work is also significant because it is highly indicative of the mediæval character. The mediæval attitude towards life is to be seen on almost every page, an attitude which made this world appear of little value in comparison with the world to come; which made man scorn his body in order to exalt his soul, and see in every tendency to wrong, even in every bodily desire, the temptation of a very personal devil. Reverence for the classics is to be seen, and yet with this reverence a determination to use them for moral ends only. The tendency to allegory so characteristic of all mediæval thought is of course exemplified to the highest degree in a collection of tales whose avowed end was to teach by allegory. Finally, as an illustration of the mingling of classical and mediæval, the tales are often instructive and interesting.

It is the chief purpose of the present writer to trace the classical element in these tales, as they appear in the Vulgate, in order to determine in how far the title of Gesta Romanorum is fitting.

Of the classical authors, Seneca Rhetor is the most commonly used, thirteen of the tales (2-7, 14, 73, 90, 100, 112, 116, 134) being taken directly from his Controversiae. They show almost no deviation from the original, and therefore offer little that is interesting in the way of comparison between classical and mediæval treatment. From their mere number, however, and also from their peculiarly unchanged form, they represent an important group in the composition of the Gesta. The fact that some of the same stories appear in Holkot's Moralitates was one of the important reasons for suspecting the direct influence of Holkot on the Gesta. If, however, the manuscript found after the completion of Oesterley's work and referred to in only two enthusiastic pages of a Nachtrag is to be trusted, either the tables are reversed and Holkot must have drawn some of his material from the Gesta, or there must have been a third work which served as a common source. The manuscript in question, which was found in Austria, contains many of the characteristic stories of the Moralitates; it is dated 1342, thus being too early to have been influenced to any extent by a work of the Englishman, Holkot, who seems to have been still in his prime in 1349, the year of his death.

One of the Gesta from the Seneca group may be taken as somewhat typical of them all, Vulgate 90, which is based on Seneca, Exc. Contr., VI, 3. According to Seneca a man whose elder son is legitimate, the younger born of a slave woman, decrees that at his death the elder son shall divide the inheritance into two parts, and the younger son shall choose the one he wishes. The elder puts into one part his brother's mother, into the other the rest of the inheritance. The younger chooses his mother. The tale in the Gesta, with a few extraneous remarks, repeats practically the same story as that given by Seneca. The moralization is typical of a large class in that the allegorical interpretation ignores one feature of the original story. The father is God; the legitimate son, born in freedom and co-eternal with the father, is Christ; the son born of a slave is man, whose body is of the earth and who, since he was produced in time and not in eternity, is, of course, the younger. Christ divides the inheritance, placing in one part the earth (the mother of the illegitimate son) and all things earthly, in the other part heaven and all things heavenly. If a man chooses his mother, that is, earthly things, he will miss his heavenly inheritance. Christ cannot be accused since the decision lies not with the one who divides but with the one who chooses. The allegory thus passes over a point which was most important in the original story, namely, that the older son cheated his brother in order to have all the inheritance for himself.

It is noteworthy that in only one of the thirteen tales which come from Seneca does the Vulgate cite him as the source. It is also to be noted that the influence of the Seneca group on later literature has been very slight, a fact which is sufficiently explained by the rather bare legal outline which is apparent in each of the tales.

I have been able to find only one other trace of Seneca Rhetor. In tale 166 he is given as authority for the statement, “Mulieres que malam faciem habent, leves et impudicae sunt; non enim illis deest animus, sed corruptor.” The words are practically those of Seneca (Exc. Contr., II, 1) except that, with the commonplace seriousness characteristic of the Gesta, the words “leves et impudicae sunt” have been substituted for the satirical “saepe pudicae sunt” of the original.³ In tale 60 there is a quotation incorrectly attributed to Seneca.

The most popular classical source for the stories of the Gesta outside of the Seneca group is the Facta et Dicta Memorabilia of Valerius Maximus. Four tales (50, 52, 53, 149) are correctly attributed to Valerius, and several others are manifestly taken from him. One of the four (Val. Max., IV, 8, 1; Gest. Rom. [Gesta Romanorum], 52) is of especial interest because of its marked verbal similarities to the classical original. The story is that of Fabius, the famous Roman general, who, when the senate refused to grant the money which he had promised as a ransom for Roman captives, sold his own estate in order to redeem his promise. Livy, who seems to have first recorded the story, says, “Inviolatum ab hoste agrum … vendidit.” Valerius says, “Fundum, quem unicum possidebat, vendidit.” The words in the Gesta are, “Ipse fundum unicum habens vendidit.” The allegorical interpretation here is brief and to the point: Fabius is Christ, who redeems the Roman captives, that is, the human race, from Hannibal, who is the devil, at the cost not of his estate but of his life.

The treatment of another of the four stories cited from Valerius (VI, 2, Ext. 2; Gest. Rom., 53) shows the characteristic lack of humor in the Gesta, although it is perhaps not to be expected that humor which would be difficult to transfer to the allegory should be recognized. Valerius tells of an old woman at Syracuse who, when everyone else was praying for release from the intolerable burden of the tyrant Dionysius, was in the habit of offering each morning prayers for his safety. When Dionysius heard of this, he sent for her and asked why she did it. She replied that when she was a girl they had a tyrant whom she longed to be rid of; but after he died they had a worse one. Again she hoped for the end of the reign, but when it came they had a tyrant who was worse still. Therefore, fearing that if Dionysius were taken away, someone more terrible would succeed to the power, she prayed most earnestly for his safety. Valerius adds, “Tam facetam audaciam Dionysius punire erubuit.” The author of the Gesta, however, passes over the humor, if he saw it, and seriously ends his tale with the sentence, “Dionysius hec audiens amplius molestiam non fecit.” In this tale, also, verbal similarities between the Latin of the Gesta and that of Valerius are to be seen.

Five other stories are probably from Valerius, although no source is given. One of these (Val. Max., V, 9, 4; Gest. Rom., 9) follows the version of Valerius very closely, and is, so far as I know, found in no other classical writer. Tale 29 (Val. Max., VI, 3, Ext. 3) is found in substantially the same form in Herodotus (V, 25), from whom it may have come to Valerius. Another tale (Val. Max., I, 1, Ext. 3; Gest. Rom., 8) is in like manner found in an earlier author (Cic., N.D., III, 34, 83-84). This story as given in the Gesta presents some curious deviations from its classical prototype, which told of the shameless way in which Dionysius, the Syracusan tyrant, had plundered the temples of the gods. As is often the case in the transfer of a classical story to the Gesta, the historical setting is lost. The three particular gods and the definite shrines from which Dionysius carried off plunder become three images, presumably of women, which Emperor Leo had caused to be placed in a temple because he took special pleasure in feminine beauty. The inscription suggested by the words of Cicero and Valerius Maximus, “in his more Graeciae scriptum erat bonorum deorum esse,” becomes in the version of the Gesta three inscriptions, one for each of the statues. The account of the second theft must have brought a smile to the faces of the congregation, although there is no hint of anything but utter seriousness in the way the story is told. According to the classical account Dionysius had carried off the golden beard from the statue of Aesculapius on the ground that it was not becoming that the son should have a beard when his father Apollo had none. The writer of the tale in the Gesta, regardless of the fact that he had made his statues women, has his tyrant steal a beard and offer the same excuse for the act.

A tale which seems to be from Valerius (V, 6, Ext. 1; Gest. Rom., 41) is the story of the Athenian Codrus who sacrificed his life to gain the victory for his people in response to an oracle which had declared that that side should win whose chief fell at the hands of the enemy. The sorrow over the death of Codrus, which was equal among the Athenians and their enemies, is paralleled in the allegory by the consternation which at the death of Christ fell alike upon his disciples and upon the demons.

Finally, from Valerius (IX, 2, Ext. 9; Gest. Rom., 48) probably comes the famous story of King Phalaris and the brazen bull, a story which is found in a long line of classical authors from Pindar down to Silius Italicus and Lucian. Among this host of authorities it is impossible to fix with certainty upon the one which is followed by the Gesta. The tale itself cites “Dyonisius” as authority. It is possible that Dionysius of Halicarnassus may have told the story in the part of his Roman Archaeology now lost, although the part extant covers the time of Phalaris. It may well be that a popular version which was a composite of many earlier accounts furnished the material to the compiler of the tales. The story, however, as given in the Gesta, conforms a trifle more nearly in its details to the version of Valerius Maximus than to that of any other classical writer whose account of the incident is extant.⁴

One of the few exact quotations from a classical author to be found in the Gesta occurs at the close of this story. The expression, “ut dicit Ovidius,” which follows a general expression of opinion, gives no boundaries to the quotation. The sentiment, however, is that of Ovid, and embedded in one of the sentences is a pentameter from the Ars Amatoria (I, 656) written as prose and possibly not recognized as poetry.

The moralization of this same tale contains one of the very few instances of criticism or even mention of the social order of the times; it was the relation of man to God, not the matter of justice between man and man, that was usually considered important in the Gesta. In reference to the unreal character given to the voices of the victims enclosed in the brazen bull, the writer of the allegory says, “Non creditur esse vox humana, quia clamorem pauperis potentes non libenter audiunt, sed dicunt: ‘Servus aut rusticus est, omnia sua sunt mea.’”

In contrast to the nine tales which are with more or less certainty to be ascribed to Valerius Maximus there is one (Gest. Rom., 42) in which Valerius is given as the source for a story which does not appear in his writings and which seems foreign to his usual subject matter.

Tale 33 is also referred to Valerius but in this case, seemingly, the compiler of the Gesta does not mean Valerius Maximus, but the author of a work entitled Valerius ad Rufinum de non ducenda Uxore, which is attributed to Walter Mapes. The work, which is listed by Oesterley, has not been published, but according to Thomas Wright (Latin Poems of Walter Mapes, p. ix) there are manuscripts of it in the British Museum and elsewhere. I have no detailed account of its contents, but from the fact that it was often classed with the mediæval poem, Golias de coniuge non ducenda, which is a gross attack on women, it would seem a very likely place in which to find tale 33. The story thus attributed to Valerius, and probably from a pseudo-Valerius of the Middle Ages, is really classical in origin, being found in Quintilian (Inst., VI, 3, 88) who quotes from Cicero (De Or., II, 69, 278).

Saint Augustine, the only one of the Church Fathers to be cited by the Gesta except in the allegories, is the probable source of three or four of the tales, two of which are definitely attributed to him. In the first (Aug., Civ. Dei, XVIII, 5; Gest. Rom., 22) Augustine is quoting from Varro as he indicates. In the second (Aug., Civ. Dei, IV, 4; Gest. Rom., 146) he is perhaps using Cicero (Rep., III, 14, 24). This second tale is followed by one of the few moralizations which were addressed to the clergy and were probably not used in general sermons. The story tells of a pirate who, when he was asked by Alexander the Great why he troubled the sea, retorted by asking Alexander why he troubled the land. Furthermore because the pirate had but one ship he was called a robber, whereas Alexander with his multitude of ships was called an imperator. In the allegory the prelate, who takes the place of Alexander, is warned lest he be found worse than the one whom he attempts to correct.

A third tale from Augustine (Civ. Dei, XVI, 8; Gest. Rom., 176) has no special point of interest except for the quotation in the allegory of four lines (6-9) from Vergil's Fourth Eclogue—the same four lines which are so often quoted during the Middle Ages, and even later, because of their supposed reference to a prophecy of the coming of the Messiah. Here, as often, they are compared with a passage from Isaiah. From the fact that the lines are said to belong to the Second Bucolic, and from two bad mistakes in the Latin, it seems that the writer was repeating what he had heard many times, rather than what he had himself read.⁵

A fourth tale (Aug., Civ. Dei, I, 19; Gest. Rom., 135) is interesting in that it cites Augustine as its source, but really follows the account given by Livy (I, 57-59) rather than the more meager account of Augustine. There are even some verbal similarities to Livy's Latin. The story is the famous one of Lucretia and the son of King Tarquin, which had been told by many writers, but perhaps by none so vividly as by the great chronicler of the regal period of Rome. It was evidently Livy's story that was familiar, even though the writer of the tale had lost sight of Livy himself. Tale 23, which is said to be from “Beatus Augustinus,” I have not been able to locate. The quotations, which are occasionally to be found in the allegories, from Augustine and also from Gregory and Ambrose, show a rather general familiarity with the Church Fathers.

Pliny the Elder is cited as authority in four tales, in each of which the material is like Pliny's usual stock in trade, that is, curious phenomena of the natural world, such as men with dogs' heads, and stones which can turn aside poison emitted by serpents. Number 175 might have been taken from Pliny or Saint Augustine, but Pliny (N.H., VII, 23-30) is at least the ultimate source. Number 176 cites Pliny as authority for the latter part of the story, but the passage in Pliny (N.H., XXIX, 74-76) which is nearest in thought varies considerably from the version in the Gesta.⁶ In tale 37 the similarity to the passage most resembling it (N.H., XXXVI, 149) is slight.⁷ Tale 139 does not profess to come from Pliny but bears some resemblance to an anecdote related by him (N.H., VIII, 78). Two others (92, 181) are plainly from Pliny. An immediate source for 181 (Plin., N.H., VIII, 42) and for 82, which is much like it, may have been the De Animalibus of Albertus Magnus.

Tale 92, which differs from the others in that it is concerned with an event of human interest, is the often-told story of Tiberius Gracchus, husband of Cornelia, who chose to bring death upon himself rather than upon his wife. The story is told by Cicero, Pliny, Valerius Maximus, Aurelius Victor and Plutarch. A comparison of all the versions points to Pliny (N.H., VII, 122) as the source of the tale in the Gesta.

In the allegory of tale 17 Pliny is given as the authority for a statement in regard to the habits of fish which I have not been able to locate, although it is such as one would expect to find in the Natural History. One suspects that it became the habit to credit all accounts of the curious in nature to Pliny regardless of any question of authenticity.

Frontinus is the source of three tales, two of which (Fron., Strat., III, 13, 7-8; Gest. Rom., 38. Fron., Strat., II, 5, 12; Gest. Rom., 88), so far as their essential points are concerned, might have come from other classical writers, but a comparison of the versions in the Gesta with possible sources shows that they are both nearer to Frontinus. The first of these tales, which tells of carrier-pigeons at the siege of Mutina, is assigned to the time of Emperor Henry II. The third tale (Fron., Strat., III, 6, 7; Gest. Rom., 152) is found in no other classical author. In no case is Frontinus given as authority.

Two tales are from Seneca the philosopher, one from the Naturales Quaestiones (II, 31; Gest. Rom., 32), which is credited to Seneca, the other from his ethical writings (De Ira, I, 18; Gest. Rom., 140). We might have expected a greater use of the Naturales Quaestiones, since it was a rather common textbook in the Middle Ages. The physical world, however, was not a favorite source for the Gesta; stories of the conduct of men lent themselves more readily to a moralization, and were no doubt more easily understood by the preacher's audience. And yet on the ground of adaptability to an allegory it is hard to see exactly why the moralizer chose the Seneca anecdote which tells of the hard judgment of Cn. Piso, who never allowed his decrees to be changed. He sentenced a soldier to death on the suspicion that he had been the cause of the death of a fellow soldier who had not returned from an expedition with him. When the soldier entrusted with the execution of the sentence was leading the condemned man to death, the missing friend appeared; whereupon they hastened back to the judge, who, instead of revoking the sentence, condemned all three to death—the first because he had once been sentenced, the second on the ground that he was the cause of his friend's death, and the third because he had not carried out the order given him. This story is given by Seneca as an illustration of an unjust judgment pronounced in anger. To Chaucer also, who quotes the story in his “Somnours Tale,” and cites Seneca as its source, the act is one of an “irous potestat.” But to the writer of the Gesta, Eraclitus, who takes the place of Cn. Piso, is a just judge who can be turned from his course by neither prayers nor bribes. In the moralization difficulties arise: the just judge is Christ, the two soldiers are the body and the soul, the third soldier, who did not carry out the sentence, is a negligent prelate; but in what way their actions can be compared to those of the characters in the original story is far from clear.

The two tales from Justinus, of the Spartan Demaratus in exile at the court of Xerxes (Just., II, 10; Gest Rom., 21) and of Lycurgus the lawgiver (Just., III, 3; Gest. Rom., 169), are both well-known old stories that had appeared in many writers from Herodotus down, but their faithfulness to Justinus can be easily seen. The latter tale in particular shows marked similarities in the Latin. The first tale is cited from Justinus; the second is said to come from Pompeius Trogus, a practical equivalent of Justinus, whose work was an abridgment of the earlier writer.

Of the two tales taken from Solinus, the first (Solinus, 45, 8; Gest. Rom., 36) is credited to him, the second (Solinus, 5, 20; Gest. Rom., 150) is incorrectly ascribed to Pliny, no doubt because of its general resemblance to Pliny's usual subject matter.

Macrobius also furnishes two tales, one of which (Macr., II, 4, 27; Gest. Rom., 87) is unusually well-adapted to an allegory. A veteran from the Battle of Actium when brought to trial for an offense asked Augustus to appear in his behalf. Augustus said he would send an advocate to help him. Whereupon the old soldier dramatically tore aside his garments to display the scars from wounds which he had received fighting for Augustus, and declared that he had not sent a substitute. The tale in the Gesta follows the story of Macrobius closely except that all proper names are omitted. The fact that an anecdote somewhat like this, although plainly not the original of the Gesta story, was told by Seneca (Ben., V, 24) about Julius Caesar may have been the cause for the confusion of some mediæval writers who have related the Augustus story but connected it with Julius Caesar. Hoccleve, who thus blunders (Reg. Prin., 3270-3297), seemingly was following Jacobus de Cessolis, who in turn says that he took the story from John of Salisbury.⁸ However, John of Salisbury (Policraticus, III, 14) gives the Macrobius story, and plainly states that the emperor was Augustus Caesar. More probable, therefore, than a confusion of the Seneca and Macrobius stories seems the possibility that the mediæval writers took the story from Macrobius or John of Salisbury and carelessly, perhaps ignorantly, assumed that the Caesar mentioned was Julius, and with equal ease changed “bellum Actiacum” to “bellum Asiaticum.” In any case it seems clear that in this instance Hoccleve and Jacobus de Cessolis did not follow the tale in the Gesta, which because of its omissions could have suggested to them neither the emperor's name nor the name of the war in which the veteran had fought.

The second tale from Macrobius (I, 6, 20-25; Gest. Rom., 126) is the old story of the Roman youth Papirius who refused to betray to his mother the secrets of the senate, but invented an account of how the senators had considered whether it were better for one man to have two wives, or for one woman to have two husbands. One cannot profess to see the mediæval attitude towards women in a story which is at least as old as Cato, and has not ceased to have its analogues in modern times. But the allegory carries the matter a bit farther: man is “ratio,” while women are “diversa vicia carnalis dilectationis.” Verbal similarities indicate how close is the connection between the tale in the Gesta and Macrobius. The phrase in Macrobius, “verecundi sexus impudicam insaniam,” appears with slight change as “in verecundo sexu tam impudicam insaniam.” In tale 40 Macrobius is cited incorrectly.

Five of the Gesta are from the realm of classical fable.⁹ The moralization of the first of these shows the critical attitude towards the clergy which is apparent elsewhere. The fable tells of a donkey who makes a ludicrous and unsuccessful attempt to gain as much favor from the king, his master, as he sees bestowed upon some much-loved dogs. To the moralizer the king is Christ, the dogs are the preachers who pronounce the word of God well and are worthy to rest in his bosom; the donkey is one who presumes to the office of preacher, “tamen litterarum nec graciam ad hoc habet.”

Ovid, Lucan, Suetonius, and Aulus Gellius seem to be authorities each for one tale. For the story of Ulysses finding Achilles at the court of King Lycomedes, which is cited from Ovid (Met., XIII, 162-172; Gest. Rom., 156), the writer by giving details not mentioned by Ovid shows plainly that he knew other sources—a fact which is not surprising in the case of such a common story. There are in the course of the Gesta two correct quotations from Ovid. The pentameter from the Ars Amatoria in tale 48 has already been mentioned in the discussion of that story under Valerius Maximus. In tale 166 occur two lines written as poetry and said to be from Ovid, only the second of which, however, is authentic (Amores, I, 8, 43): “Ludunt formose; casta est, quam nemo rogavit.”¹⁰ In tale 179 a line is incorrectly attributed to Ovid.

From Lucan comes the dramatic incident of the apparition which appeared to Julius Caesar when he crossed the Rubicon (Lucan, Phars., I, 182-193; Gest. Rom., 19). The first part of the tale is fairly correct Roman history, although crudely told. Pompey is a Roman “princeps,” who marries the daughter of a noble, called Caesar. Pompey sent Caesar, because he was younger, to fight in distant places, while he guarded the Roman state. He fixed the term of five years for Caesar's service, failure to return at the expiration of which time was to deprive the disobedient general of his rights forever. In the allegory Pompey is God; Caesar is Adam, who for disobedience is deprived of his possessions; Caesar's daughter is the soul betrothed to God; the Rubicon, incongruously enough, is the rite of baptism by which man again enters a state of blessedness. The source of the tale is said to be the Gesta Romanorum—a strange use of the term, which will be discussed later.

Suetonius (Iulius, 81, 85; cf. Plut., Caes., 63; Cass. Dio, XLIV, 17-18; Gest. Rom., 97) has been used for the portents which preceded the death of Julius Caesar, an event which is said to have occurred twenty-two years after the founding of the city of Rome.

Tale 148, the story of Arion, is credited to “Agillus,” evidently a corruption of “Agellius,” the name by which A. Gellius was usually known during the Middle Ages. Gellius (XVI, 19) gives the story in practically the same form as that which Herodotus (I, 24) had used.

The account of malleable glass which appears in tale 44 has three possible classical sources: Pliny (N.H., XXXVI, 195), Cassius Dio (LVII, 21) and Petronius (LI), who is evidently followed by Isidorus (XVI, 16). The historical comments on the change in the character of Tiberius at his accession to the power, and on his subsequent evil deeds would incline one to believe that Cassius Dio is being followed, for it is in some such setting that he relates the incident of Tiberius and malleable glass. The details of the story in the Gesta, however, are much nearer to those given by Petronius and Isidorus: the forcible hurling of the vase which showed that it could not be broken, and the hammer which the inventor drew out to straighten the dent made in its side.

Greek writers are very seldom used. One tale, however, seems to have been transmitted from Aristophanes (Thesmoph., 499-501; Gest. Rom., 123); at least it is so characteristic of Aristophanes that one cannot resist the belief that he furnished the original. On the return of her husband an unfaithful wife hides her lover under the bed. The husband asks that the bed be prepared for him, as he is weary and wishes to go to rest. The wife's mother helps her out by suggesting that they first show to the husband the “lintheum” which they have been making; under cover of this, while they hold it up, the lover escapes. The closing words of the two passages show the similarity. The words in the Gesta are: “Mater erigens lintheum, quantum potuit, per unum cornu, alterum filie ad sublevandum dedit; et tamdiu lintheum extenderunt, donec amasius est egressus.” Aristophanes says:

ὡς ἡ γυνὴ δεικνυ̑sα τἀνδρὶ τοὔγκυκλον ὑπ' αὐγὰς οiόν εsτιν εγκεκαλυμμένον τὸν μοιχὸν εξέπεμψεν.

An anecdote which has earlier classical sources is cited from Josephus (Antiq. Jud., XVIII, 6, 5; Gest. Rom., 51). Tiberius explains his reason for keeping the same provincial governors in office so long by the story of the sick man and the flies. With the exception of the Pericles story (Gest. Rom., 153) this is the only tale in the Vulgate which lacks a moralization. The reason for the omission is probably to be found in the fact that the story itself is an allegory, and the moralizer knew of no way to make an application except through an allegory—a difficult task in this case. In tale 159 Josephus is incorrectly given as a source.

Tale 103 probably comes from an anecdote related by Plutarch (De Garrulitate, 14). Each has to do with the possibility of the assassination of an emperor at the hands of his barber, the mediæval tale exhibiting a characteristic fondness for inscribing words of warning on some object connected with the event related, and also being made more complex for the sake of the allegory.

The tale, which is doubtless based on the story of Alcibiades' test of his friends as found in Polyaenus (Strat., I, 40, 1; Gest. Rom., 129), is changed somewhat, as was the case in the anecdote from Plutarch, to add to the force of the allegory. In the classical story all of Alcibiades' friends refuse to help him except one who offers to hide what is supposed to be the corpse of a man whom Alcibiades has murdered. In the tale as it appears in the Gesta, however, the king's son has three friends, one of whom he loves more than himself, another as much as himself, and a third whom he loves but little. The first friend when asked for help refuses to do anything except go with the guilty man to the cross, and give three or four ells of cloth in which to wrap his dead body. The second friend offers to go with him to the cross and console him as much as he can on the way. The third friend offers to take the blame upon himself and, if necessary, to suffer death for the crime. The allegory is unusually clear and contains a characteristic sneer at women. The first friend, who is dearer to man than himself, is the world, for love of which he often risks his life on land and sea; in return for this love the world in the time of his necessity will give him only the cloth in which to wrap his body. The second friend, whom he loves as much as himself, is his wife, his sons, and his daughters, who follow him to the grave with tears, but when his wife has returned home, within a few days her grief has departed and she loves another. The third friend, whom he loves but little, is, of course, Christ.

In four tales we find the authority given as the Gesta Romanorum, a term of uncertain significance, for it seems hardly probable that the Gesta is citing an earlier edition of itself. Two of the tales (19,¹¹ 95) are such as make it possible that Roman history in general is meant, since they both deal with what is plainly historical matter; the third tale (35) is a rather colorless account of the sacrifice of a lamb at the conclusion of peace, which might conceivably be cited from Roman history; but the fourth (39) refers to an incident of somewhat more importance which is not a matter of common historical knowledge, and would seem to demand a definite authority.

There may be compared with these historical tales which are cited from the Gesta Romanorum, the portents which warned Julius Caesar of his approaching death (tale 97 from Suetonius) which begins, “Legitur in chronicis.” Somewhat similar in the nature of the content is the description of the character of Tiberius in tale 44, already referred to under Petronius. Tale 30 gives a fairly good description of a Roman triumph, although here late and untrustworthy authorities have been followed in part. A purely mediæval addition is the box on the ear of the imperator administered by the slave whose sole duty according to classical authority was to hold the crown above the triumphator's head.

Among the authors referred to in the Gesta Romanorum we do not find the name of Cicero, nor is there anything to indicate that he was used as a direct source for any of the tales. The name of Horace also is lacking, as well as those of all the other Augustan writers except Ovid and Vergil. The indebtedness of the Gesta to Ovid has already been discussed. The references to Vergil are few in number, and his influence seems to have been slight in proportion to his great fame during the Middle Ages. Perhaps it was because the Vergil of the Middle Ages was so far removed from the real poet that we find so few traces of the latter in the Gesta. It is to the magician, “magister Vergilius,” that reference is made in tale 57. The familiarity with the Fourth Eclogue which is shown by the lines quoted¹² also depended on an interest which was extraneous to the thought of the poet. In tale 158 there is an altogether mediæval statement about one of Vergil's heroes, without any mention, however, of Vergil. Pallas, the son of Evander, was, according to the Gesta, a giant slain after the fall of Troy; his body with a wound four and a half feet long is still uncorrupted, and the candle which burns at his head is still unextinguished, although two thousand two hundred and forty years have passed since his death.¹³

A statement in tale 166 comes nearer to the classical Vergil: “Virgilius, Longobardus origine, natione Mantuanus prosapia humili ortus, sapientia tamen maximus et eximius poetarum claruit. Cum quidam sibi diceret, quod versus Omeri operi suo inseruit, respondit, magnarum esse virium clavam excutere de manu Herculis.” The comparison between using lines from Homer and stealing the club of Hercules is given by Donatus (Vergilii Vita, ll. 186-192), who quotes from Asconius Pedianus Vergil's usual reply to such a charge: “Cur non illi quoque eadem furta temptarent? verum intellecturos facilius esse Herculi clavam quam Homero versum subripere.”

There is one curious reminiscence of Horace. Four times in the Vulgate appears the expression, “dimidium anime mee,” which recalls at once to every Horace-lover the words which so beautifully express the deep affection felt by the younger for the older of the two great poets of the Augustan Age (Hor., Ode I, 3, 8). The words are used in each case, as they are in Horace, at a time of great stress, and as an expression of a very close tie; a mother so speaks of her only son (Gest. Rom., 14); a sister of her only brother (Gest. Rom., 81); a father of his child (Gest. Rom., 153); and a wife of her husband (Gest. Rom., 153).

Thus far we have been considering those elements in the Gesta which can in each instance be traced back with a varying degree of certainty to some one classical author. These elements have in many cases, of course, been transmitted through the medium of earlier mediæval writers; to just what extent this is true, or how complex the transmission has been it would be difficult, perhaps impossible, to determine. Often a faithful, in some cases even a verbal, adherence to the original indicates a very close connection with the classical source.

There are, in addition to the tales which can be classified as owing their origin to certain Greek or Roman writers, others which resist such a classification; they have been so widely used in classical literature that they have, as it were, become standardized, with little or no variation to indicate individual authors. Such a story is that of Damon and Pythias (Gest. Rom., 108), which was common from the time of Aristoxenus in the fourth century B.C.; the names of the friends have often varied but the story has remained essentially the same. In the version of the Gesta, which follows the usual form of the story, the two friends, whose names are not given, are made robbers, probably because in the allegory they were to be the body and the soul, which to the mediæval mind were alike sinful. Tale 171 also shows in its latter part the influence of the Damon and Pythias story.

In the story of Coriolanus (Gest. Rom., 137) only the essential part of the classical version has been kept: after everyone else has failed, a mother succeeds in persuading her son to desist from attacking his own city. The tale is said to be from the chronicles of Eusebius, and is assigned to the time of Constantine. Valerius Maximus is a likely source for the tale but there is no definite proof.

The well-known anecdote of the sword of Damocles (Gest. Rom., 143) furnished the mediæval moralizer with a story after his own heart. The uncertainty of a kingly life becomes the uncertainty of all human life; details are added to the classical story to show the evils which beset man on every side. A king causes his brother who has on a former occasion inquired the reason for his sadness, to be summoned to execution. The carrying out of the sentence is postponed, and in the meantime the brother, seated in a chair which has four fragile legs, is placed over a deep pit; a sharp sword is suspended over his head; four men with swords are placed around him with orders to raise their weapons on command. A banquet is then served, music sounds, and the brother is asked why he is not happy. The king explains the likeness to his own condition: the four fragile legs of the chair are the four elements¹⁴ of his body, the sword above his head is divine judgment, the four swords at his side are death, his sins, the devil, and the worms which will devour his body, the pit below is hell.

The story of Atalanta's race (Gest. Rom., 60) has been used with one or two rather marked mediæval additions. The race takes place as in the classical story to determine whether the challenger shall marry the daughter of the king. The device of throwing attractive objects in front of the running maiden is also employed; but the tendency towards variety and the fondness for inscriptions, which are characteristic of the Gesta, cause a change at this point: the three golden apples of the classical version give place to a garland of roses, a girdle of silk and a silken purse in which there is a gold ball bearing the inscription, “Qui mecum ludit, numquam de meo ludo saciabitur.” More startling by far, however, than these changes is the slap which Rosimunda, the mediæval Atalanta, administers to her competitor each time that she overtakes him after delaying to admire first the garland, then the girdle. This addition to the classical story was made not for the sake of the allegory, as is often the case, but seemingly for the sole purpose of adding to the vividness of the story. To the grim moralizer the maiden is the soul; the man who runs with her is the devil, who tries by seductive devices to keep her from the goal of heaven.

The story of Curtius (Gest. Rom., 43) shows a striking variation from the classical version. In the mediæval tale the chasm in the Roman forum is closed by a man who according to his bargain with his fellow citizens is allowed for a year to live as he chooses, using the property and the wives of other men freely, on the condition that at the end of the time he will ride into the chasm. One will hardly recognize in this story the picture so vividly painted by Livy of M. Curtius, who reverently lifts his hands to the sky, and gazes at the temples of the gods and at the capitol before he mounts his horse and with high patriotism gives to the chasm that which the Romans value most, arms and valor. The deviation is all the more strange, because not only is there no use made of it in the allegory, but it is directly opposed to the allegorical interpretation, in which the person who sacrifices himself is Christ. The classical form of the story was evidently not known or it would have been used in place of the unsuitable variation. The year of license in the mediæval tale must have come from some such story as that of Mycerinus related by Herodotus (II, 133), or perhaps from some mediæval tale of a period of license preceding certain death.

Tale 104 contains the main points of the story of Androcles and the lion, which had been narrated by Apion (Gellius, V, 14; cf. Aelian, Hist. Anim., VII, 48). It seems unlikely, however, that the mediæval writer knew the classical version as we now have it, for too many details such as would have delighted the compiler of the Gesta are omitted: the lion bringing food for Androcles when they lived in the same cave, the scene in the Circus Maximus, Androcles leading the lion about among the shops of Rome. Some of these points would have been hard to work into the allegory, but that would probably not have forbidden their use, for the allegory often passes over details of the story.

A combination of different classical stories is found in tale 63, which is in the main the Ariadne myth but has in addition slight elements from the story of Atalanta and from that of Medea. The resemblance to the Atalanta story lies in the fact that an emperor makes a proclamation of the terms under which his daughter's hand may be gained. In the central part of the tale the labyrinth becomes a garden with intricate paths, the minotaur is a lion, Theseus a deliberate suitor; the clue of thread remains the same. From the Medea story evidently comes the “gummus” which the successful suitor smears on his armor. Probably the three classical stories were all familiar to the mediæval writer, so that it was easy to add to one details from the others.

In tale 111 we find the familiar figures of Argus, Mercury and Io, although their classical significance is entirely lost. The white heifer is merely a white heifer who is remarkable for her beauty and the abundance of her milk. Her owner gives her golden horns and then because of her value entrusts her to a man named Argus, who is faithful and has a hundred eyes. Mercury is a knavish fellow who, after his first attempts to steal the heifer have failed, succeeds by using his skill in music to put Argus to sleep. In the allegory we find once more evidence of the usual attitude towards women: the music which lulls Argus to sleep is a diabolical temptation, that is, woman.

I know of no exact classical prototype for the colloquy of Argus with his shepherd's crook, which he addresses as his master, when he is debating whether or not he shall yield to the temptation of Mercury. The fact, however, that in this and similar scenes in mediæval tales the speaker is a slave or servant who has cheated his master and is considering how he shall make peace with him, suggests the scenes in classical comedy where the rascally slave soliloquizes over a similarly difficult situation, often addressing himself by name (Plaut., Epid., 81-100; Ter., And., 206-225). The new element in the mediæval situation is that some object—a shepherd's crook or a hat—is put up to represent the master, and to take his part in the imaginary conversation. A scene of this type which is nearer the classical form than is the scene in the Gesta is found in one of the tales of a collection which appeared in 1601 under the title Wendunmuth.¹⁵ Here there is given under the caption, “Ein schaffer rathschlagt mit seim stecken,” the story of a shepherd who, in considering how he shall account to his master for a lamb which he has given away, puts his hat on a staff seemingly to represent a silent but sympathetic friend in whose presence he brings forward the different excuses or explanations that he might offer to his master, and rejects them each in turn. A somewhat similar dramatic device is used by Shakespeare in a familiar scene in Two Gentlemen of Verona (II, 3). The Launcelot Gobbo scene, however, in The Merchant of Venice (II, 2), is nearer to the slave's soliloquy in classical comedy.

In tale 166 there occurs a story of a rich giant and king named Arrius, who in answer to his inquiry was assured by the oracle of Apollo that there was a man who was happier than he. This man was Agalaus, a countryman poor in property but rich in spirit, who had never left the boundaries of his own field. The oracle approved of the few acres of Agalaus free from anxiety rather than of the rich shore of Lydia full of fear. This seems a reflection of the conversation between Croesus and Solon, as recorded by Herodotus (I, 30-32), although the argument of Solon that no man could be counted happy until his death is missing. The tale in the Gesta seems to have been influenced by another story, perhaps by Claudian's “Old Man of Verona.”

I believe we should see in tale 67 a mediæval version of Heracles at the Crossroads. The story tells of two cities, one on the summit of a mountain with a strait and narrow road leading to it, which is guarded by three soldiers and an army with whom anyone who passes must fight; those who arrive at the city have abundance of treasure and stay forever. The other city is in the valley; to it runs a smooth and delightful road on which three soldiers are stationed to receive and minister luxuriously to way-farers; but all who reach the city are thrown into prison and condemned to death. When two soldiers, one wise, the other foolish, who have sworn fidelity to each other, start out in mediæval fashion to seek their fortune, they come to the parting of the ways. The wise soldier wishes to go along the difficult road to the desirable city, but the foolish soldier insists on the easy path and carries his point. When at the end of the journey they are seized and brought before the judge, each blames the other, but the judge condemns them both.

An allegory similar to this was first introduced by Hesiod (Works and Days, 287-292), and later made famous by the beautiful fable of Prodicus recounted by Xenophon (Mem., II, 1, 21-34) in which the choice of Heracles is symbolized by two roads and by two women. To the Pythagoreans a familiar symbol was the letter Y, the stem of which stood for life during infancy and early youth, the left fork being the road to vice, the right to virtue. The use made of the two roads by the early Christians may be seen in a passage from Lactantius (VI, 3):

Duae sunt viae per quas humanam vitam progredi necesse est: una, quae in coelum ferat; altera, quae ad inferos deprimat; quas et poetae in carminibus et philosophi in disputationibus suis induxerunt. Et quidam philosophi alteram virtutum esse voluerunt, alteram vitiorum; eamque quae sit assignata virtutibus primo aditu esse et arduam et confragosam. In qua si quis difficultate superata, in summum eius evaserit habere eum de cetero planum iter, lucidum amoenumque campum, et omnes laborum suorum capere fructus uberes atque incundos. …¹⁶

The extraneous element of the three soldiers stationed on each way is brought in to enable the moralizer to use his familiar triad of the world, the flesh and the devil.¹⁷

The legend of Pope Gregory, a story which is too long and too familiar to be outlined here, is given in tale 81. Its resemblance in part to the Oedipus-Jocasta story of Greek literature, and, near the end, to the story of Prometheus has been discussed by Henry Wilson, who also points out the many interesting ramifications of the story in French, German, Italian, English and Spanish literature.¹⁸

The tablets which serve to identify Gregory on two occasions are to be compared with recognition signs in classical literature, particularly with the “tokens” of comedy. In tale 172 a ring is used in this way. In the story of Saint Alexius (Gest. Rom., 15) a ring and the buckle of a belt are given to his bride by Alexius before he departs on his long pilgrimage; one expects to find them used as a means of recognition when, at the end of his life, the identity of the saint is discovered, but no further mention is made of them. In tale 110, a scar on his head from the wound of a saber is the means by which two soldiers identify a Roman general; his wife also looking closely at the man, who is her lost husband, sees in him “signa mariti.” One may compare with this the scar on the left hand of Agorastocles (Plaut., Poen., 1073-1074), and the scar on the forehead of Orestes in the Electra of Euripides.

The tales which concern Alexander the Great follow the usual trend of such stories in the Middle Ages, when Alexander was a favorite character, and Aristotle, his teacher, hardly less popular. Sometimes (Gest. Rom., 61, 96, 139) the reference is merely to a great king, or the master of the world; in two tales (11, 34) Aristotle gives wise counsel to his master. In the former of these instances the daughter of the Queen of the North who had been brought up on poison recalls the account in Pliny (N.H., XXV, 6) of Mithridates' daily habit of drinking poison with certain precautionary antidotes, so that he might grow accustomed to it and thus become immune against the attacks of his enemies. In tale 61 the wise man is not Aristotle but Socrates, as also in tale 145. Tale 61, besides furnishing the startling combination of Emperor Claudius, Alexander the Great, and Socrates, also contains one of the wise sayings attributed by Plutarch (Them., XVIII) to Themistocles.

The Bucephalus story (Gest. Rom., 36), which has previously been referred to in dealing with Solinus, is the only famous Alexander anecdote recounted in the Gesta. But in tale 31 Alexander is used as an illustration of a theme common to classical literature—the contrast between boundless power or genius, and the narrow tomb—as in Horace's “pulveris exigui,” and the magnificent passage in Juvenal's tenth satire beginning, “Expende Hannibalem.” At the death of Alexander the philosophers who came and gazed at his golden tomb each uttered a maxim such as, “Heri non sufficiebat Alexandro totus mundus, hodie sufficiunt ei tres vel quatuor ulne panni”; and “Heri Alexandrum omnes timebant, hodie eum vilem omnes reputant.” The same theme is echoed many times in modern literature: Shakespeare puts into the mouth of Antony as he gazes at the dead body of Caesar words which resemble closely those just quoted from the Gesta:

O mighty Caesar! dost thou lie so low?
Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils,
Shrunk to this little measure?
But yesterday the word of Caesar might
Have stood against the world: now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence.

Similar expressions are called forth by the sight of the dead body of Hotspur (Henry IV, pt. I, V, 4), and of the skull of Yorick (Hamlet, V, 1).

Other tales show resemblances to classical literature and history which are less evident. In the case of tale 138 one finds it hard to escape the thought of Alcibiades, whose life, if he be considered the son of Athens, offers much that is parallel to that of the king's son and heir whose ungratefulness is punished by disinheritance. He flees to the rival and enemy of his father, the king of the Persians, whom he incites to make war upon his country. In this war he seriously wounds his father, then in shame and horror at his deed he changes sides and fights against the Persians. He later returns home, and is again received as the heir.

The tale of the three rings (Gest. Rom., 89), which occurs in later literature, notably in Lessing's “Nathan der Weise,” has much in common with the account of the twelve shields of Numa (Plut., Numa, 13).

The lament of father, mother and wife in turn over the dead body of Alexius in tale 15 recalls the lament over Hector's body in the Iliad; the likeness, however, may be due to the difficulty of setting forth in narrative the simultaneous expression of grief on the part of several persons rather than to the influence of the Homeric passage. A greater degree of resemblance to a classical story may be seen in tale 49 where the woman who betrayed her city for a reward, which was immediately afterward the cause of her death, is much like Tarpeia of the Roman Capitol.

The image of wax which is treated with magic (Gest. Rom., 102) will recall similar instances in Theocritus, Vergil, and Horace, as well as in later classical writers; but in anything so primitive, so common to all nations as magic, it is difficult to be sure of the line of influence. The use of a mirror in the magic rites of this same tale has two or three less important parallels in classical literature.¹⁹

The custom of assigning to some particular reign a tale for which no source is cited seems to have been adopted for the purpose of obtaining an air of authenticity. The ruler is frequently designated merely as “quidem imperator” or “quidem rex,” but at other times is given a definite name. This may or may not be that of a real Roman emperor, but in either case it is meaningless, for seldom has the incident related anything to do with the reign of the emperor mentioned. Comments on the character or actions of Roman emperors, which occur but rarely in the Gesta, are seldom in accord with history. An exception to this rule is found in the brief statement in tale 44 about the change in the character of Tiberius when he became emperor, a view which agreed with the current historical belief. The account of the defeat of Maxentius by Constantine which forms the body of tale 95 also follows history. On the other hand we are told that Domitian was wise and just in every respect, that Theodosius lost his sight, and that Hadrian was more wicked than even his predecessor Trajan. The fashion of naming an emperor who usually either was a Roman or was assumed to be one increased the apparent classical character of the tales, and gave countenance to the title, Gesta Romanorum. This title, although more nearly correct than would have been a name which assigned the tales to any other one period or general source, is not justified because of the many oriental and mediæval elements in the book.

In citing authorities the compiler of the Gesta is much more dependable. Of the twenty-three classical tales which give a source, twenty do so correctly, if we include three which are said to be from Pliny, but do not follow him closely. Four non-classical tales are attributed to classical authors.

Of the one hundred and eighty-one tales contained in the Vulgate seventy-five are clearly classical in origin; twenty others contain elements the classical nature of which in most cases is quite plain. These ninety-five classical tales may be rather loosely divided into three groups. In the first group may be placed those which can be traced back to definite classical authors, chief among whom are Seneca Rhetor, Valerius Maximus, Pliny the Elder, Frontinus, and Saint Augustine; Seneca the Philosopher, Solinus, Justinus, and Macrobius are used twice each, and no other writer more than once. These tales with a few exceptions deviate but slightly from the classical version, and contain few mediæval additions.

A second group may be formed of those tales, such as the Ariadne story and the story of Io and Argus, which, although their outlines are clearly classical, have received much in the way of mediæval setting, and have almost entirely lost their classical significance.

In a third and smaller group may be placed those tales which are predominantly mediæval or oriental but have some classical characteristic. In some cases there is but one slight element which is classical, as for instance in the story of Guy of Warwick where in the midst of mediæval adventures and pilgrimages to the holy land the ring of recognition is the only indication of classical influence. In other instances, as in the story of Pope Gregory, the classical influence is a more subtle one, which has affected the theme of the tale; at first glance the story may appear entirely mediæval, but a careful consideration may reveal its kinship with the theme of a Greek tragedy or with an old Roman story.

Notes

1. Speculum Ecclesiae. Dominica Septuagesima, Migne, Patrologia, 172, Paris, 1854, cols. 855-856. See H. O. Taylor, The Mediœval Mind, London, 1911, II, p. 57.

2. Stultitiae Laus, London, 1777, LIV. See Douce, Illustrations of Shakespeare, London, 1839, p. 523.

3. For other classical quotations in tale 166 see pp. 360, 361, 365, 370.

4. For another allusion to victims thrown into a brazen bull to be burnt alive see tale 110.

5. In regard to the source of the latter part of tale 176 see p. 356 of this article.

6. For other points in regard to tale 176 see pp. 355, 365, of this article.

7. For tale 150 see p. 358, of this article.

8. See F. Aster, Das Verhaeltniss des Altenglischen Gedichtes “De Regimine Principum” von Thomas Hoccleve zu seinen Quellen, Leipzig, 1888, pp. 44-45.

9. Aesop. Kor., 212, Fur., 367; Babr., 129; Gest. Rom., 79.

   Aesop. Kor., 358, Fur., 356; Babr., 95; Gest. Rom., 83.

   Aesop. Kor., 141, Fur., 42; Gest. Rom., 141.

   Aesop. Kor., 170, Fur., 130; Phaedrus, IV, 18; Gest. Rom., 174.

   Aesop. Kor., 130, Fur., 34; Babr., 9; cf. Herod., I, 141; Gest. Rom., 85.

10. For other classical quotations in tale 166 see pp. 351, 365, 370.

11. For tale 19 see p. 361, of this article.

12. See tale 176, p. 355, of this article.

13. The evidently corrupt curvi in the first part of this tale can be corrected to Turni by reference to a fuller version of the same story given in William of Malmesbury, Gesta Regum Anglorum, II, 206; also by reference to Boccaccio, Gen. Deorum, XII, 67, where the same story is quoted from Martinus. See p. 339 of Dr. Coulter's article, “Genealogia Deorum” [Vassar Medieval Studies, edited by Christabel Forsyth Fiske, New Haven: Yale University Press, 1923].

14. These are the Aristotelian or peripatetic elements which are so important in mediæval philosophy—fire, air, earth and water. For other references to these elements see Gest. Rom., 70, and the allegory of 65.

15. Hans Wilhelm Kirchhof, Wendunmuth, hrsg. von H. Oesterley, Bibl. d. Litt. Vereins in Stuttgart, II, 1869, p. 141.

16. For a discussion of the theme of Heracles at the Crossroads, see M. C. Waites, “The Allegorical Debate in Greek Literature,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, XXIII, 1912, pp. 9-11.

17. For a similarity in the choice of ways compare tale 65.

18. J. C. Dunlop, History of Prose Fiction, revised ed. with notes by Henry Wilson, London, 1906, II, p. 220, n. 1. Tales 13 and 18 have each an element which is similar to the Oedipus-Jocasta story.

19. See Butler and Owen, Commentary on Apuleius, Apologia, XIII.