[In the following essay, Bunt studies the structure, setting, historical background, and magical elements in William of Palerne.]

1. Since the first three leaves of the Ms. are lost, we are dependent on the French Guillaume de Palerne for the opening episodes of the story, which are, however, recapitulated later in our English poem.

The French poem, then, tells us that king Embron of Sicily and his queen Felise have a four-year-old son, Guillaume, who is entrusted for instruction to two Greek ladies, Gloriande and Acelone. The king's brother, who wishes to gain the throne for himself, bribes the ladies to poison Guillaume and his father. However, while the king, the queen and Guillaume are in the royal park, a large wolf takes the child in his mouth and runs off with it. A pursuit is fruitless; the wolf swims across the Strait of Messina with the little prince and escapes. The wolf goes with the child to a forest in the vicinity of Rome, where he hides the child in a cave and takes care of it. At this point the English text begins.

While the werwolf is away, a cowherd's dog finds William and frightens him. The cowherd hears the dog's barking and the child's cries, finds William and takes him home. He and his wife adopt William as their son (1-79). When the werwolf returns, he finds William gone, but soon discovers him in the cowherd's house. Seeing that he is well looked after, the werwolf departs contented (80-108). The werwolf is in reality a Spanish prince, whose stepmother has transformed him so that her own son may succeed to the throne (109-160). The audience is invited to say a paternoster for the poet's patron (161-170). William becomes a cowherd and an able huntsman. He has many friends, to whom he gives generous gifts (170-197). One day the emperor of Rome loses his way while hunting a boar and becomes separated from his company. A werwolf races past, pursuing a hart. The emperor follows them and comes upon William. He is struck by the boy's beauty and asks him to call his father. The cowherd reluctantly obeys the emperor's summons, and explains that he has found William dressed in rich clothes. The emperor wants to take the boy with him to court. Before they depart, the cowherd admonishes his fosterson on the proper behaviour at court. William sends greetings to his friends and his fostermother, who is very sad over the loss of the boy (198-384). The emperor arrives in Rome with William, but refuses to tell anyone how he has come by the child. He entrusts him to the care of his daughter Melior (385-432).

At this point another leaf is lost. The French poem here tells of William's popularity at the imperial court. Melior falls in love with him and debates within herself.

When the text of the English poem resumes, Melior is musing upon her lovesickness, and hesitates over whether to blame her heart or her eyes, but decides to follow the dictates of her heart and to love William. She cannot, however, tell him of her love (433-570). Her cousin and confidante Alisaundrine, noting Melior's distress, offers her help, and Melior reveals her problem (571-628). Alisaundrine promises a herb which will cure Melior's disease. By her magic arts she causes William to dream that Melior comes to him at night and offers her love. When he awakes he is only clutching his pillow. He tells himself he is deluded and presumptuous to think that Melior would love a mere foundling (629-730). However, love continues to torment William. He spends his days sitting under a tree in the palace garden staring at Melior's window. One day he falls asleep there (731-794). Melior asks whether Alisaundrine has found the herb yet. She replies that they might find comfort in the garden. She knows that William is there and leads Melior to him. Alisaundrine causes William to dream that Melior hands him a rose which cures all his suffering. He wakes up and is greeted by Melior as leve lemman. At Alisaundrine's request he describes his ailment to her, but refuses to explain himself further. Melior thinks to herself that she is suffering from the same illness as William, but dare not reveal herself. Alisaundrine tells William that she understands his illness, and he implores her help. Alisaundrine calls on Melior to accept William as her lover, and she promises herself to him (795-1001). They embrace and make love; Alisaundrine passes the time gathering flowers. When evening comes she tells the lovers to part. They enjoy each other's love in secret for three years (1002-1066).

The rebellious duke of Saxony is attacking the emperor's realm; the emperor summons an army to fight him. William is knighted and given the command of eighty princes' sons who are knighted with him. The emperor's council advise him to fight the duke (1067-1117). The duke challenges the emperor to battle. When their forces meet, the duke's army proves the stronger. William overhears the emperor's prayer for help, and exhorts his own men to attack. William slays six great nobles. The duke rallies his army, and William is captured and brought before the duke, but his followers rescue him (1118-1229). William renews the attack and captures the duke. The Saxons are routed and many nobles are taken prisoner. They are brought before the emperor's council and made to do homage. Peace is thus restored, but the duke grieves at the result of his pride, dies and is buried honourably (1230-1325). The imperial army returns home. Melior receives the news of her lover's prowess and his wounds. With her maidens she sets out to welcome her father and William, and invites him to her room. With the help of Alisaundrine William and Melior are able to keep their love secret (1326-1415).

The emperor is holding a feast at Easter, when thirty Greek barons arrive and ask Melior in marriage for the son of the Greek emperor. The emperor and his council agree to this request and the wedding day is fixed for midsummer (1416-1475). When William learns of Melior's betrothal he falls ill. The emperor visits him and grieves to see him in such suffering. Melior and Alisaundrine also visit William and inquire after the cause of his illness. William reproaches Melior for breaking her pledge to him; she replies that she does not feel bound by her father's promises, and that she will be his for ever. On hearing this, William speedily recovers and returns to court (1476-1588). A Greek delegation arrives in Rome for the wedding and is received with due ceremony (1589-1637). William again reproaches Melior for deluding him, but she replies that she will keep her promise to him, and suggests that they elope. Alisaundrine suggests that they disguise themselves in bearskins. She brings two white bearskins from the kitchen, sews the lovers up in them, and escorts them out of the palace (1638-1764). In the garden they are seen by a Greek, who runs away in terror, and tells his companions of his adventure (1765-1784). William and Melior rest in a den under a hollow oak. The problem of food and drink arises, and they decide to live on the fruits that they find in the woods. However, the werwolf knows all about their plight. He robs food from a passing churl and brings it to the lovers (1785-1880). Realising that they need drink, the werwolf then robs a clerk of two flagons of wine. They are guided by the werwolf (1881-1929). In Rome preparations are made for the wedding, but Melior does not appear. The emperor sends a baron to her chamber and then goes himself. When she does not answer his calling, he becomes enraged. Alisaundrine tells him that she has lost Melior's favour; Melior had heard that Greek wives were shut up in a tower, and for this reason she would not be married to a Greek. She was in love with William, and Alisaundrine had reproached her for this. The emperor finds Melior's room empty, and Alisaundrine tells him she must have eloped with William. The emperor sends men to find William at his lodging, but to their relief they do not find him (1930-2095). The emperor informs the Greek emperor of what has happened; the Greek emperor accepts his apologies and advises him to order a thorough search for the runaway pair. The search is, however, in vain (2096-2154). The Greek who saw the disguised William and Melior in the garden now tells the two emperors of his experience. A search is made with bloodhounds for the two white bears. They are in great danger, but the werwolf succeeds in luring the hounds away from them. The Greeks return home. The werwolf guides the lovers to the borders of Apulia (2155-2214). They find themselves in open country near Benevento, and hide in a quarry. A party of quarrymen start work in the quarry; one has seen the bears and goes to town to tell the provost. The provost comes with a large crowd to catch the bears. William and Melior wake up, and Melior relates her dream. When they realise that they are about to be caught, William tells Melior to take off her disguise so that her life shall be spared, but she refuses to leave William. The werwolf abducts the provost's little son, and thus lures the pursuers away from the quarry (2215-2400). William and Melior pray for the safety of the werwolf. They take off their now useless bearskins, and leave the quarry undisguised. They find shelter in a forest, where the werwolf provides them with food and drink (2401-2518). They overhear a debate between two colliers; one hopes to catch the white bears and win the reward, the other sympathises with the runaway lovers (2519-2567). The werwolf kills a hart and a hind and signals to William and Melior to put on the skins. In this new disguise they travel towards Sicily (2568-2617).

The country here is laid waste as the result of a war. William's father, king of Sicily, is dead, and his mother rules the kingdom. The Spanish king wants her daughter as wife for his son, the werwolf's half-brother, but she has refused the match, and he is now besieging Palermo. The situation is nearly hopeless for the besieged. The queen has sent for help to her father, the emperor of Greece, but no help has come so far (2618-2712). William and Melior, guided by the werwolf, reach Reggio; the werwolf finds a ship which they board. They cross to Sicily, where the werwolf leaps overboard. He receives a blow from one of the sailors. The sailors pursue him, leaving their ship in the charge of a ‘barelegged bold boy’ (2713-2767). The hart and the hind leave their shelter on board the ship to go ashore, but the frightened boy hits Melior in the neck. William wants to punish the boy, but Melior, who is unhurt, dissuades him (2768-2829). The werwolf guides the lovers to Palermo, where they hide in the palace garden near the queen's window (2830-2855). The besieged queen dreams that a werwolf and two white bears, who change into deer, help her and her daughter against a large number of animals. The hart imprisons the leaders of the attacking animals. She then finds herself in a tower of her castle; her right arm reaches over Rome and her left arm lies over Spain. The priest Moses interprets her dream (2856-2968). The queen sees the hart and the hind in the garden, but is unable to hear what they say. She asks her knights not to surrender to the besiegers. She then disguises herself as a hind, and, attended by a maiden, goes out into the garden to make contact with the deer. She overhears their conversation; Melior has had a dream, which William feels portends good. They see the disguised queen, who makes herself known, and asks their help against the besiegers, promising William full powers. The three enter the palace (2969-3192). William and Melior are bathed and clothed. William adopts a werwolf as his cognizance. King Ebrouns' horse recognises William as his rightful master (3193-3260). The steward of Spain attacks the city. William arms himself and rides to battle on king Ebrouns' horse. The queen and her daughter admire William's appearance, but Melior fears they may take him away from her. William exhorts the knights and rides out with 400 men. He slays the steward; a general battle follows, in which William kills the steward's nephew and makes many prisoners (3261-3474). William and Melior, while sitting with the queen at her window, see the werwolf, who seems to be asking for mercy. The queen is reminded of her lost son. William rejects the idea that he might be the queen's son (3475-3527). The son of the king of Spain undertakes to avenge the steward and his nephew. In the ensuing battle William takes the king's son prisoner and hands him over to the queen (3528-3666). The queen is again reminded of her lost son. William reproaches her for her tears: she will never get her son back. They again see the werwolf in the park (3667-3730). The Spanish king threatens to punish his men for allowing his son to be captured, but is brought to reason by his knights. He vows to avenge his son and to hang William. The dead of the previous battle are buried. In the new battle Meliadus slays numerous Sicilians and wounds William, but is eventually killed by him. The Spanish king sees William approach and rallies his troops, but when William is victorious, he flees. William overtakes him and captures the king and many nobles. He hands them over to the queen, who again makes William effective lord of Palermo (3731-3961). The Spanish king is led into hall, where he asks to see his son. They confess their guilt and offer to make amends. Suddenly the werwolf enters the hall, kneels before the king and disappears. William prevents his men from harming the werwolf. The Spanish king, by William's order, tells of the disappearance of his son by his first marriage, and of the rumours that his second wife had transformed him into a werwolf. William demands that the Spanish queen be summoned to disenchant the werwolf (3962-4150). The Spanish king sends messengers to fetch his wife. They arrive in Spain and inform the queen of the outcome of the war. She agrees to accompany them to Sicily (4151-4283). The queen of Spain arrives in Palermo. The werwolf has been accommodated in William's chamber. When the queen is in hall, he rushes in and attacks her, but William restrains him and promises disenchantment (4284-4374). The Spanish queen asks the werwolf's forgiveness. She takes him into a private room, and with the help of a ring with a protective stone and a book she restores him to human form. The disenchanted werwolf, Alphouns, is ashamed of his nakedness. He wishes to receive the order of knighthood and his knightly array at William's hands (4375-4474). William, accompanied by Melior, the queen and her daughter, goes in to Alphouns, but does not recognise him. Alphouns makes himself known. He falls in love with the queen's daughter. In hall he is welcomed by all present. He reveals William's true identity and recalls his adventures. He has abducted the child William to save him from a plot against his life by his uncle and his two nurses. His revelations are greeted with great joy. Alphouns reminisces about his adventures with the eloped lovers. William thanks him for all he has done for himself and for Melior. Alphouns asks for the hand of his sister in return, which is immediately granted (4475-4766). The two nurses implore William's mercy and are granted their lives. They retire to a hermitage (4767-4806).

William sends messengers to Rome to invite the emperor to his wedding with Melior. The emperor travels to Palermo, accompanied by Alisaundrine (4807-4922). The Greek fleet has arrived to help the queen of Sicily against her Spanish attackers; the fleet is led by the queen's brother Partenedon. He is annoyed to hear of the intended wedding of William and Melior, but is forced to accept the situation (4923-4989). A marriage is arranged between Alisaundrine and Braundnis, Alphouns' half-brother. The next day the triple wedding takes place with great ceremony; the festivities last a month (4990-5076). After the festivities, Partenedon is the first to take leave. At home he reports his experiences to his father, who takes a lighter view than his son. The emperor of Rome admonishes Melior and Alisaundrine before departing. Then the Spanish king with his wife and his two sons take their leave. William and Alphouns promise each other assistance in case of war. The king of Spain abdicates in favour of Alphouns (5077-5233). William restores order in his kingdom and introduces good laws. He and Melior are greatly loved (5234-5249). A message arrives that the emperor of Rome has died; William is asked to succeed him. William invites Alphouns to his coronation. They are overjoyed to meet again. Together they travel to Rome, where the pope crowns William emperor. William summons the cowherd and rewards him richly. The leave-taking after the festivities is again described elaborately (5250-5467). William travels through his empire. He is a good ruler and much loved. He and Melior have two sons: one later succeeds his father as emperor, the other as king of Calabria and Apulia (5468-5520).

In his epilogue the poet, who names himself as William, apologies for the defects of his poem, and calls upon his audience to pray for his patron (5521-5540).

2. Simms (1969:xix) finds a four-part structure in the poem:

1. William's youth in the forest and in Rome (3-1415).

2. The great escape with the adventures on the road to Sicily (1416-2855).

3. The war against the Spaniards (2856-3961).

4. The revelations and revels which follow William's victory (3962-5540).

Such a subdivision of the poem has its undoubted attractions from the point of view of narrative structure. There are indeed large initials at the beginning of each of these sections, but also at numerous other points; and there are no very clear breaks in the text at the places indicated. In fact, three of the first lines of these proposed subsections contain anaphoric words which refer to an antecedent in the final lines of the preceding section, which makes it unlikely that these points mark the beginning and end of instalments for public recitation.

The only clear evidence of a subdivision of the poem is in line 161, which tells the audience that þus passed is þe first pas of þis pris tale. Nowhere else is the word pas, which recalls the passus of Piers Plowman and The Wars of Alexander, used in our poem. If we count the lost three leaves which once contained the opening sections and estimate the number of lines on them at 216 (the first quire has 36 lines to the page), the first pas must have had something like 376 lines. But we look in vain for evidence of a division into passus of approximately this length. We do find the narrative punctuated with transitional lines and sequences of lines saying ‘now we cease to tell of X, and begin to speak of Y’, but these occur at irregular intervals and probably have a purely local connective function rather than a structural one. We must conclude that, apart from ll. 161-9, there are no obvious points at which the poem might have been interrupted.

3. The story of William of Palerne evidently contains a fair number of elements that are familiar in romance and folktale. As in many English romances, the overall pattern is what Wittig (1978) terms ‘separation-restoration’, with the ‘love-marriage’ pattern embedded into it. Both patterns, in fact, occur twice: separation-restoration in the story of William and in that of Alphouns, the werwolf; the love-marriage pattern is found in its variant form ‘love-threatened marriage-rescue-marriage’ in the story of William and Melior, whereas in the case of William's sister Florence the first ‘type-episode’, love, is treated very briefly and in a somewhat aberrant position. The pattern seems to be introduced here mainly to allow William to fulfil his destined rôle by delivering his mother from her enemies and winning back his lost inheritance through his knightly prowess. This second instance of the love-marriage pattern is also less well motivated: while Melior is given good reasons for not wanting to marry her Greek suitor, no reason is given for the refusal of the Sicilian queen and her daughter to accept the suit of the heir to the Spanish throne.

On a lower level, that of the episode or the scene, we also find much that belongs to the staple of medieval romance. Frequent ‘type-episodes’ and ‘type-scenes’ (the terms are Wittig's) which are represented in William of Palerne are expulsion of the hero, kidnapping, adoption, love, single combat, threat of a marriage, disguise, recognition, restoration, marriage, etc.; several of these are used more than once, such as expulsion of the hero, kidnapping, adoption, threat of a marriage, etc.

The individual motifs in William of Palerne, or rather in its French source, have been studied thoroughly by Charles Dunn, who gives a full list (1960: 19-23) with references to Thompson's Motif-Index (Thompson 1955-58), but not, naturally, to Gerald Bordman's Motif-Index of the English Metrical Romances of 1963. Although Wittig's criticism of the motif approach to the romances as too atomistic is certainly justified (1978:59, 195), Dunn's list enables us to recognise the close affinities between stories such as ours and the folk-tale.

While the plot of William of Palerne is certainly made up from commonplace materials, there is much in the story and in its treatment by the poet that is highly distinctive. In what follows we shall briefly discuss the Sicilian setting, possible historical backgrounds, the magical element and the disguises. We should, however, also note the ample attention given to meetings and leave-takings, festive ceremonial and ritual, and to religious observances. The tone is genuinely and sincerely pious, but the ritualistic manner in which these scenes are handled, often in highly formulaic language, also gives an impression of stemming from a need to say and do ‘the right thing’; the narrative style comes to function, as Wittig puts it (1978:45), ‘as a powerful social force which supports, reinforces and perpetuates the social beliefs and customs held by the culture’.

4. Sicily is used as a setting in several medieval French and English romances¹. But in no other romance is such knowledge displayed of the geography of Southern Italy and Sicily. It has been supposed² that the author of the French Guillaume de Palerne must have known these parts from personal observation. In the ME adaptation, many of the place-names (Far, Messina, Santa Maria della Scalla, Cefalù), much of the description of Palermo and other geographical details are omitted, but what remains of the geographical data is still accurate by modern standards.

Sicily³ was much in the forefront of European attention in the 12th century. Having been conquered by the Saracens from the Byzantine Empire during the 9th century, it was wrested from them in the 11th century by Norman war bands led by the sons of Tancred de Hauteville, among whom Robert Guiscard was the most prominent. Robert's nephew Roger was crowned king of Sicily in Palermo Cathedral in 1130; his kingdom consisted of Sicily and the mainland provinces of Apulia and Calabria, which had been conquered from Byzantium. Roger was succeeded by his son William I, nicknamed the Bad (1154-66), who married Margaret of Navarre, and by his grandson William II the Good (1166-89), who was married to Joanna, sister of Richard the Lionhearted. After the death of William II, Tancred, an illegitimate son of a brother of William I, seized the throne; he reigned as king from 1190 to 1194, and was succeeded by his baby son William III. The island was then conquered by another claimant, the emperor Henry VI, son of Frederick Barbarossa, who was married to Constance, daughter of king Roger and aunt of William II. Henry died in 1197 and Constance the next year, leaving an infant son, Frederick II, who had been born in Palermo. Frederick took the government into his own hands in 1208 and reigned as emperor and king until his death in 1250.

There are, therefore, certain parallels between the history of Sicily and the story of William of Palerne: two kings named William (or three if we count the unfortunate boy king William III), although neither William I nor his son married an emperor's daughter, and a union of the Sicilian and imperial thrones.

Nor are these the only parallels between fable and historical fact. As McKeehan (1926) points out, in 1159 Alphonse VIII, then four years old, succeeded his father as king of Castile; but his uncle seized power and demanded homage of his young nephew, who, however, was snatched away by loyal adherents and, after a civil war, placed on the throne. Alphonse later married Leonor, another sister of Richard the Lionhearted. These events might have provided a clue for the abduction story as well as for the Spanish connection in our romance. Nothing is known of a Spanish attempt to control Sicily until 1282, after the Sicilian Vespers, when king Peter of Aragon became king of Sicily; but he did not fight to obtain his throne⁴. A Spanish conquest took place in 1392. Both these dates are, of course, too late for our purpose.

According to McKeehan, the hero of Guillaume de Palerne is created in the likeness of William the Good of Sicily, Alphouns⁵ in that of Alfonso II of Aragon or Alfonso VIII of Castile. The two Spanish kings were brothers-in-law, and both were associated with Richard the Lionhearted. Dunn wisely does not attempt such an identification. He seeks the origin of the story in propagandistic legends which were purposefully circulated to promote the political aims of the Hauteville kings of Sicily or their Hohenstaufen successors⁶.

This hypothesis seems plausible, if incapable of verification. But the historical parallels remain vague, and to the English audience of the mid-fourteenth century they must have been quite remote. To them Sicily must have been a faraway land torn by protracted wars which attracted adventurers from many countries. Sicily's Norman past and the contacts with England that existed in Norman times may still have been remembered, but the island can hardly have called up such immediate associations as it did for Countess Yolent and her circle round the year 1200.

A rôle of some importance is also played by the Byzantine Greeks. Melior's unwelcome fiancé is a Greek prince, the heir to the imperial throne. The basileus is also the father of the queen of Sicily, and sends her a fleet to help her against her Spanish enemies, although it does not arrive until after the war is over. Some prominence is also given to Partenedon's feelings when he attends the wedding of his former betrothed. No historical parallels can be found for these elements in the narrative. There was no queen of Sicily who was the daughter of the Byzantine emperor; nor was the Byzantine fleet ever strong enough to be of any help against the queen's enemies. The rôle that the Greeks play is slightly comic; their military aid comes when it is no longer needed, and their prince's marriage is thwarted by the unwillingness of the intended bride. Yet these comic aspects are not really elaborated, and nowhere are the Greeks held up to ridicule, as they are frequently in other sources. This state of affairs accords well with the findings of dr B. Ebels-Hoving (1971), who points out that the many Greeks who figure in the French romans cannot be said to embody a clearly definable attitude towards Byzantium.

Since the French source was written for a patroness who through her husband and her nephew was closely concerned in the conquest of Constantinople in 1204 (see above, ch. 4), the absence of any reference to this historic event in a romance in which the Greek empire plays a rôle is striking. It may be considered an argument, if not a very strong one, for assigning to the French Guillaume a date before 1204.

5. The belief in werwolves has given rise to a considerable body of literature, which it is impossible to catalogue or to summarise here. The most immediately relevant publications on the subject are the two letters by Algernon Herbert to Lord Cawdor, the President of the Roxburghe Club, which are printed in Madden's edition, as well as Hertz (1862), Smith (1894), Tibbals (1903-4), Kittredge (1903), Stewart (1909), McKeehan (1926) and Dunn (1960); what follows here is heavily dependent on these authorities.

The belief in the transformation of human beings into wolves is known in many cultures. The transformation, usually of a temporary nature, could occur voluntarily, by removing human clothing or putting on a wolfskin or a girdle made of wolfskin, but it could also be the result of a compelling curse or spell. In werwolf stories Tibbals (1903-4) distinguishes (1) the constitutional werwolf, whose transformation to wolf-shape occurs as it were spontaneously after the removal of human clothes, and can be ended by the simple resumption of the clothes; (2) the ‘Teutonic’ werwolf, who is transformed by putting on a wolfskin or a wolfskin girdle, and becomes man again by removing it; and (3) the magically transformed werwolf, who, unlike the two other types, cannot assume wolf shape and human form at will, but is under the compulsion of some other power, a necklace, a ring, a curse or a spell. Tibbals adds that these types often occur in combined form, as in the Lai de Melion (see below). As Dunn notes (1960:117), in many tales the werwolf takes on a more ravenous nature than that of the wolf itself, and lives by the slaughter of animals. But we also find werwolves whose favourite diet is human flesh; thus Marie de France writes, in the opening lines of her Bisclavret:

Garualf, ceo est beste salvage:
Tant cum il est en cele rage,
Hummes devure, grant mal fait,
Es granz forez converse e vait.

(9-12)

(The werwolf is a savage beast; while it is in this rage⁷, it devours men and does much harm; it lives and walks in the great forests.)

Algernon Herbert (in Madden 1832:15-16) says that werwolves delight in eating children, especially girls, and that they distinguish themselves from ‘natural’ wolves by the lack of a tail. Whether this is a general characteristic of werwolves, he does not say; it does not occur in William of Palerne, its French source, or in any of the other tales discussed in this chapter.

Werwolves were often regarded with fear and horror, and actively persecuted both in story and in actual life. Herbert and Hertz (1862) cite several cases of werwolf trials and of men executed as werwolves. William of Palerne, however, belongs to a group of tales in which a werwolf is treated sympathetically. Kittredge (1903) gives the Latin story of Arthur and Gorlagon and several examples of werwolf tales from Wales, Brittany and Ireland in which the protagonist is transformed under the compulsion of a spell. We also find the werwolf treated sympathetically in Marie de France's Bisclavret and in the anonymous early 13th-century Lai de Melion⁸.

In Bisclavret, the hero is a baron whose wife is distressed by his weekly three-day absences. One day she wrings from him the secret that during these absences he is a werwolf. He takes off his clothes, which he hides in a secret place; if he does not recover them, he is doomed to remain a werwolf forever. The wicked wife also wheedles the secret of the hiding-place of the clothes out of him, and instructs her lover to remove them, promising that she will become his mistress. With her husband thus got out of the way, she marries her lover. One day the king's hounds, having hunted the werwolf Bisclavret down, are about to tear him to pieces, when Bisclavret implores the king's mercy. The king concludes he must have a human mind, and takes him under his protection. At a feast he suddenly attacks his wife's new husband. On a later occasion, he bites his wife's nose off. On a wise councillor's advice, the king interrogates the wife under torture, and she confesses her crime. She is made to return the clothes and they are laid before Bisclavret, who, however, refuses to put them on. The wise councillor suggests that he is ashamed and that he should be taken to a private room to put on the clothes and become man again. So it happens, and Bisclavret is found asleep in the king's bed. The wife is exiled; several of her daughters are born without noses.

A very similar story, probably dependent on Marie's Lai, is included in the 14th-century Roman du Renart Contrefait, where the protagonist's name is Biclarel.

Melion is considerably longer than Bisclavret and less well told. The story is given an Arthurian setting. Its hero is a young knight, highly esteemed at court, who make a foolish vow after which the ladies at court refuse to speak to him. When Melion hears this he falls into a great sadness. King Arthur sends him to a distant castle to forget his grief. One day while hunting he comes upon a richly dressed maiden who declares that she has come from Ireland to find him, because she has loved him for a long time. Melion and the lady are speedily married and live happily for three years. During a hunting party Melion and his wife come upon a huge stag. She declares she will never eat again unless she has a piece of that stag. Melion hands her a ring with a white and a red stone. She is to touch his head with the white stone once he has undressed; he will be turned into a wolf and he will bring her the stag. He begs her to guard his clothes well, since unless he is touched again with the other stone, he must remain a werwolf forever. The wife, however, departs for Dublin, where her father is king, attended by a squire whom she soon marries. When Melion realises that his wife has betrayed him, he determines to pursue her. He hides himself in a ship, where he receives a blow when leaping overboard. In Ireland he lives in the forests, ravaging the country with a band of ten wolves, and killing even men and women. The king pursues them and kills all the wolves except Melion. Meanwhile, Arthur arrives in Ireland to conclude peace. Melion recognises him and implores his mercy. Arthur is moved by the wolf's human actions and claims him as his own. At a feast in Dublin Melion attacks the squire who accompanied his wife back to Ireland. The squire is made to confess the truth, and the king's daughter is persuaded to give Arthur the magic ring. Gawain insists that Melion should be taken to a private room to be touched with the ring, so that he need not be ashamed in front of the company. Melion is restored to human shape and is given rich clothing. Arthur dissuades him from punishing his faithless wife, but he consigns her to the devil before leaving home with Arthur, adding that one should never believe what any woman says.

There is a striking number of details that William of Palerne has in common with Bisclavret and Melion, such as the werwolf imploring the king's mercy, the king's conclusion that the werwolf has a human mind, the king taking the werwolf under his protection, the werwolf's attack on the person whom he holds responsible for his sad condition, the forced confession, the disenchantment in a private room, the nakedness and the shame of the werwolf after disenchantment. In Bisclavret and in William, but not in Melion, the disenchanted werwolf lies in bed; and Melion has in common with William, but not with Bisclavret, the werwolf's crossing by boat, the blow that he receives when leaping overboard, and the rich clothing given him after disenchantment. But the differences are even more striking. The werwolf in William lacks the ferocity of the transformed heroes of the two lais; he is ferocious only when he twice attacks his wicked stepmother (145-55, 4339-74). William does not contain the motif of the faithless wife, but makes a stepmother responsible for the werwolf's condition; and it employs a number of important motifs that are absent in the two French poems.

In William only does the werwolf act out the traditional rôle of the wolf as ‘baby-snatcher’⁹ when he abducts the four-year-old William and later the son of the provost of Benevento. Dunn (1960:113) quotes Bartholomeus Anglicus' De Proprietatibus Rerum on the delight that wolves take in stealing boys and eating them¹⁰, and we have already cited Herbert, who notes a similar motif. Our werwolf's motives are, however, entirely noble, and he treats the abducted children with great care so as not to harm them.

Another important and widespread motif associated with wolves is that of the Wolf's Fosterling. Dunn (1960:86-111) gives a detailed discussion of this motif as combined with that of the Fair Unknown, and labels the type of tale which contains this combination, after its best-known manifestation in the legend of the foundation of Rome, the Romulus Type. Dunn notes that the Romulus Type is not common in folktale, but is best represented in romance, legend and myth; in addition to that of Romulus and Remus, he cites legends about Sargon, Cyrus, Zoroaster and Wolfdietrich.

A third ubiquitous motif which is also prominent in our poem is that of the Helpful Animal. The werwolf saves William from his uncle's plot by abducting him, he engineers his discovery by the emperor and faithfully aids the eloped lovers, attending to their needs and rescuing them from manifold dangers. Dunn (1960:19-20) refers us to ten motif-numbers in Thompson's Index which are relevant here.

Tibbals (1903-4) and Hibbard (1924:217) argue that the real hero of our story is not William, but Alphouns, and that the werwolf story is central to its plot. McKeehan (1926), however, rightly rejects this view. However important a rôle the werwolf may play, it is the story of William which forms the nucleus of the romance; he is constantly ‘on the stage’, whereas the werwolf remains in the background during long stretches of the narrative.

6. William and Melior escape from the Roman imperial court disguised as white bears; later they discard the bearskins and don deerskins provided by the werwolf. When they have arrived at Palermo, and the queen of Sicily sets out to make contact with the disguised lovers, she also dons a deerskin; but the poet no more than vaguely hints at her reasons for assuming this disguise. As Dunn (1960:24) emphasises, the animal skins remain disguises which the personages can put on and take off at will; they do not actually transform them into bears or deer, although the poem often refers to the disguised lovers as þe beres or þe hert and þe hinde. Tibbals (1903-4) argues that the disguises are a kind of rationalised transformations, and that in earlier, more ‘primitive’, versions of the story they must have been actual transformations. In support of Tibbals' hypothesis we might cite a story referred to in Chevalier (1965:163, s.v. cerf), that St Patrick changed himself and his companions into deer to escape the traps set for them by a king. It remains strange, however, that the same romance should contain both an actual transformation and a rationalised one. Although, as Simms has pointed out, the werwolf transformation and the disguises, as well as several of the dreams in which personages in the story are represented by animals, are thematically related in that they exemplify the loss of human form and are concerned with human and bestial nature, it seems better to regard disguise and transformation as distinct narrative motifs each with their own history¹¹.

Kane (1951:51) considers the bearskin disguise ‘an offence against simple physical probability so outrageous that by comparison with it even the benevolent werewolf … seems credible and acceptable’, and argues that it is ‘hard to swallow’ precisely because it is not a supernatural marvel but a merely physical improbability. Yet the bearskin disguise seems less unconvincing than the deer disguises, whose physical improbability is even more glaring. However, we may doubt whether the medieval and early modern audiences of the various versions of the story would have responded in the same way. To them disguise was a familiar narrative motif, although disguise in animal skins is admittedly less frequent. They may have been more readily prepared to accept the story on its own terms than modern critics or readers can be. Moreover, that a bearskin disguise is not altogether so improbable as Kane makes it out to be, is shown by a remarkable incident which was reported in the Dutch daily press late in December 1981. Children had told the police that they had seen a large bear in Hackney Marshes near London. A thorough search by the police remained fruitless; but the next day a man telephoned The Sun to say that he had dressed himself in a bearskin suit by way of a practical joke.

The choice of bear and deer skins is reasonably well motivated. Alisaundrine considers bears most similar to man (1694) and most grisli (1687); and deer are the most likely large animals that a werwolf might, with some willing suspension of disbelief, be believed to kill. It seems somewhat less likely, however, that bearskins should be present in a kitchen, and the presence of white bearskins is even more difficult to accept. Perhaps the colour white is here a reminiscence of the priestly, druidical and magical associations of this colour in the Celtic world (Chevalier 1969: 109, s.v. blanc).

Kane (1951:52) considers the possibility that the poet's sense of the ridiculous is responsible for his acceptance of the animal disguises. But it is not the animal disguises as such that provoke mirth in the poem (1725-44, 3110-92), but the thematically important contrast between the ferocious animal appearance and the gentle humanity of the characters who adopt the disguise¹².

7. Two of our poem's personages possess magical skills, queen Braunde of Spain and Melior's confidante Alisaundrine. The queen is a worchipful ladi (115), but in her youth she had learned miche schame (117), because she was well versed in wicchecraft and nigramauncy (118-20). The king's second wife, she attempts to secure the succession for her own son by getting rid of her stepson. Her magical actions are described in unusual detail. She prepares an ointment bi enchaunmens of charmes (136-7) and anoints the child so that he is transformed into a werwolf. The narrator condemns her action in no uncertain terms: when she thinks of how sad it is that her own son will never succeed to be king, she does so as a mix (125), and when she prepares the magic ointment he curses her: þat evel chaunche hire tide! (137). Yet, in spite of her wicked crafts and her atrocious crime against her stepson, she retains the dignity that befits her royal station. The messengers who bring her the summons to come to Palermo to disenchant the werwolf address her with due respect, although they lapse into þou / þe / þi when referring to her witchcraft and her transformation of Alphouns, and when reporting William's threats (4248-65). She obeys with a good grace, and promptly travels to Sicily to undo her earlier crime. In Sicily she is again received with due ceremony. After the werwolf's attack, she shows herself repentant and confesses her misdeed (4387-4403). She finally restores the werwolf to human form with the help of a ring with a magical stone which protects the wearer against witchcraft, poison and an unsuitable marriage. The ring is hung round the werwolf's neck, but in order to effect the disenchantment, she also needs a long reading from a book of magic.

When she has disenchanted her stepson, she shows sensitivity and tact towards Alphouns in a situation full of embarrassment. She fully understands his shame about his nakedness, and makes arrangements for him to be clothed ceremonially in knightly garments. We may conclude that she is not utterly depraved, but an erring woman who has misused her dangerous and morally reprehensible skill, and who, when forced by circumstances, acknowledges her sin and makes every effort to undo its effects.

Alisaundrine's magical arts, on the other hand, are used only to bring the lovers together. She herself speaks of a craft þat ich kan (635) through which she will cure her mistress Melior, if she can find a certain grece (636). The poet-narrator tells us a little later that she knew much of charmes and of chantemens to schewe harde castis (654), but nowhere does he use such terms as nigramauncy or wicchecraft to refer to Alisaundrine's magical skills. Her craft enables her to cause William to dream that Melior visits him in his room and asks for his love (655 ff.), and later, that Melior comes to him in the garden and offers him a rose (862-6). These are Alisaundrine's only magical actions; the grece that she needs to cure Melior is not a literal herb¹³), but, as becomes clear to us through later more or less oblique references (799 ff., 1030), stands for William's love. But her craft also gives her remarkable powers of foresight and enables her to know in advance that she and Melior will meet William in the palace garden (813-15).

Alisaundrine's magical arts have been given her by the English adapter; in the French poem she is merely, what she is also in the English version, a faithful confidante, with more practical shrewdness than her mistress, and always actively concerned for the happiness and the safety of William and Melior. It is remarkable that although procuring and matchmaking are among the activities usually associated with witches, and although she is given magical skills, the poet never speaks of her as a witch; on the contrary, she is wholly good, and in the end she is rewarded, although her own wishes have not been consulted in the matter, with a princely marriage.

Notes

1. For French examples, see Dunn (1960:84-5). In English we have Ipomedon, Robert of Sicily, The Three Kings' Sons and Roswall and Lillian. The story of the 14th-century Dutch play of Esmoreit is also set in Sicily.

2. See Dunn (1960:39-85), who gives a detailed study of the setting of the story of the French poem.

3. The following historical synopsis is derived from Mack Smith (1968), Norwich (1970) and Dunn (1960); see also Bezzola (1958-63).

4. More possible parallels are discussed by Dunn (1960).

5. Alfonso was a frequent name in the various royal houses of Spain.

6. In a short article published in 1948, Dunn called attention to a sculpture in the cloister of Monreale Cathedral, which might be interpreted as representing William and his guardian werwolf.

7. Marie clearly regards the rage of the werwolf, during which he eats men, as a temporary state.

8. I quote from the edition of Marie de France's Lais by Ewert (1944); the older edition by Warnke (1885) is also still valuable. For Melion I have used Grimes (1928); a more recent edition is in Tobin (1976).

9. Abducting animals may belong to many other species, such as lions, griffins, apes, etc.

10. In Trevisa's translation (ed. Seymour et al. 1975), lib. XVIII, cap. lxxi, He is ful hardy and loueþ wel to play wiþ a childe. If he may take him he sleeþ him afterward and eteþ him atte laste. Aristotle is cited as authority.

11. See also Dunn (1960:136 footnote), who cites Thompson's motif K 521.1.

12. On the absurdity of the disguises and the poet's humorous treatment of the theme, see also Mehl (1967:206).

13. Kooper (forthcoming), partly following Simms (1969), points out its ‘plainly sexual connotations’, which ll. 637-41 make quite unmistakable. Note also William's shame when Alisaundrine slily inquires whether Melior has got the herb (1035).