The mutilation of the earlier pages of the Percy manuscript leaves us in possession of only one half of this ballad, and that half in eight fragments, so that even the outline of the story cannot be fully made out.[foot-note] We have, to be sure, the whole of a French poem which must be regarded as the probable source of the ballad, and, in view of the recklessness of the destroyer Time, may take comfort; for there are few things in this kind that the Middle Ages have bequeathed which we could not better spare. But the losses from the English ballad are still very regrettable, since from what is in our hands we can see that the story was treated in an original way, and so much so that comparison does not stead us materially.
'King Arthur and King Cornwall' is apparently an imitation, or a traditional variation, of Charlemagne's Journey to Jerusalem and Constantinople, a chanson de geste of complete individuality and of remarkable interest. This all but incomparable relic exists in only a single manuscript,[foot-note] and that ill written and not older than the end of the thirteenth century, while the poem itself may be assigned to the beginning of the twelfth, if not to the latter part of the eleventh.[foot-note] Subsequently, the story, with modifications, was introduced into the romance of Galien, and in this setting it occurs in three forms, two manuscript of the fifteenth century, and the third a printed edition of the date 1500. These are all in prose, but betray by metrical remains imbedded in them their descent fro111 a romance in verse, which there are reasons for putting at least as early as the beginning of the fourteenth century.[foot-note]
A very little of the story, and this little much changed, is found in Italian romances of Charles's Journey to Spain and of Ogier the Dane. The derivation from Galien is patent.[foot-note]
The Journey of Charlemagne achieved great popularity, as it needs must. It forms a section of the Karlamagnus Saga, a prose translation into Norse of gestes of Charles and his peers, made in the thirteenth century, and probably for King Hákon the Old, though this is not expressly said, as in the case of the 'Mantle.' Through the Norwegian version the story of Charles's journey passed into the other Scandinavian dialects. There is a Swedish version, slightly defective, existing in a manuscript earlier than 1450, and known to be older than the manuscript, and a Danish abridgment, thought to have been made from the Swedish version, is preserved in a manuscript dated 1480, which again is probably derived from an elder. Like the 'Mantle,' the Journey of Charlemagne is treated in Icelandic Rímur, the oldest manuscript being put at about 1500. These Rhymes (Geiplur, Gabs, Japes), though their basis is the Norwegian saga, present variations from the existing manuscripts of this saga. There is also a Färöe traditional ballad upon this theme, 'Geipa-táttur.' This ballad has much that is peculiar to itself.[foot-note]
Charlemagne's Journey was also turned into Welsh in the thirteenth century. Three versions are known, of which the best is in the Red Book of Hergest.[foot-note]
Let us now see what is narrated in the French poem.
One day when Charlemagne was at St. Denis he had put on his crown and sword, and his wife had on a most beautiful crown, too. Charles took her by the hand, under an olive-tree, and asked her if she had ever seen a king to whom crown and sword were so becoming. The empress was so unwise as to reply that possibly he thought too well of himself: she knew of a king who appeared to even better advantage when he wore his crown. Charles angrily demanded where this king was to be found: they would wear their crowns together, and if the French sided with her, well; but if she had not spoken truth, he would cut off her head. The empress endeavored to explain away what she had said: the other king was simply richer, but not so good a knight, etc. Charles bade her name him, on her head. There being no escape, the empress said she had heard much of Hugo, the emperor of Greece and Constantinople. "By my faith," said Charles, " you have made me angry and lost my love, and are in a fair way to lose your head, too. I will never rest till I have seen this king."
The emperor, having made his offering at St. Denis, returned to Paris, taking with him his twelve peers and some thousand of knights. To these he announced that they were to accompany him to Jerusalem, to adore the cross and the sepulchre, and that he would incidentally look up a king that he had heard of. They were to take with them seven hundred camels, laden with gold and silver, and be prepared for an absence of seven years.
Charlemagne gave his people a handsome equipment, but not of arms. They left behind them their lances and swords, and took the pilgrim's staff and scrip. When they came to a great plain it appeared that the number was not less than eighty thousand: but we do not have to drag this host through the story, which concerns itself only with Charles and his peers. They arrived at Jerusalem one fine day, selected their inns, and went to the minster. Here Jesus and his apostles had sung mass, and the chairs which they had occupied were still there. Charles seated himself in the middle one, his peers on either side. A Jew came in, and, seeing Charles, fell to trembling; so fierce was the countenance of the emperor that he dared not look at it, but fled from the church to the patriarch, and begged to be baptized, for God himself and the twelve apostles were come. The patriarch went to the church, in procession, with his clergy. Charles rose and made a profound salutation, the priest and the monarch embraced, and the patriarch inquired who it was that had assumed to enter that church as he had done. "Charles is my name," was the answer. "Twelve kings have I conquered, and I am seeking a thirteenth whom I have heard of. I have come to Jerusalem to adore the cross and the sepulchre." The patriarch proving gracious, Charles went on to ask for relics to take home with him. "A plentet en avrez," says the patriarch; "St. Simeon's arm, St. Lazarus's head, St. Stephen's —" "Thanks!" "The sudarium, one of the nails, the crown of thorns, the cup, the dish, the knife, some of St. Peter's beard, some hairs from his head —" "Thanks!" "Some of Mary's milk, of the holy shift —" And all these Charles received.[foot-note] He stayed four months in Jerusalem, and began the church of St. Mary. He presented the patriarch with a hundred mule-loads of gold and silver, and asked "his leave and pardon" to return to France: but first he would find out the king whom his wife had praised. They take the way through Jericho to gather palms, The relics are so strong that every stream they come to divides before them, every blind man receives sight, the crooked are made straight, and the dumb speak.[foot-note] On reaching Constantinople they have ample reason to be impressed with the magnificence of the place. Passing twenty thousand knights, who are playing at chess and tables, dressed in pall and ermine, with fur cloaks training at their feet, and three thousand damsels in equally sumptuous attire, who are disporting with their lovers, they come to the king, who is at that moment taking his day at the plough, not on foot, goad in hand, but seated most splendidly in a chair drawn by mules, and holding a gold wand, the plough all gold, too; none of this elegance, however, impairing the straightness of his majesty's furrow. The kings exchange greetings. Charles tells Hugo that he is last from Jerusalem, and should be glad to see him and his knights. Hugo makes him free to stay a year, if he likes, unyokes the oxen, and conducts his guests to the palace.
The palace is gorgeous in the extreme, and, omitting other architectural details, it is circular, and so constructed as to turn like a wheel when the wind strikes it from the west. Charles thinks his own wealth not worth a glove in comparison, and remembers how he had threatened his wife. "Lordings," he says, "many a palace have I seen, but none like this had even Alexander, Constantine, or Cæsar." At that moment a strong wind arose which set the palace in lively motion; the emperor was fain to sit down on the floor; the twelve peers were all upset, and as they lay on their backs, with faces covered, said one to the other, "This is a bad business: the doors are open, and yet we can't get out!" But as evening approached the wind subsided; the Franks recovered their legs, and went to supper. At the table they saw the queen and the princess, a beautiful blonde, of whom Oliver became at once enamored. After a most royal repast, the king conducted Charles and the twelve to a bed-chamber, in which there were thirteen beds. It is doubtful whether modern luxury can vie with the appointments in any respect, and certain that we are hopelessly behind in one, for this room was lighted by a carbuncle. But, again, there was one luxury which Hugo did not allow them, and this was privacy, even so much privacy as thirteen can have. He had put a man in a hollow place under a marble stair, to watch them through a little hole.
The Franks, as it appears later, had drunk heavily at supper, and this must be their excuse for giving themselves over, when in a foreign country, to a usage or propensity which they had no doubt indulged in at home, and which is familiar in northern poetry and saga, that of making brags (gabs, Anglo-Saxon beót, gilp[foot-note]). Charles began: Let Hugo arm his best man in two hauberks and two helms, and set him on a charger: then, if he will lend me his sword, I will with a blow cut through helms, hauberks, and saddle, and if I let it have its course, the blade shall never be recovered but by digging a spear's depth in the ground. "Perdy," says the man in hiding, "what a fool King Hugo was when he gave you lodging!"
Roland followed: Tell Hugo to lend me his horn, and I will go into yon plain and blow such a blast that not a gate or a door in all the city shall be left standing, and a good man Hugo will be, if he faces me, not to have his beard burned from his face and his fur robe carried away. Again said the man under the stair, "What a fool was King Hugo!"
The emperor next called upon Oliver, whose gab was:
'Prenget li reis sa fille qui tant at bloi le peil, En sa chambre nos metet en un lit en requeit; Se jo n'ai testimoigne de li anuit cent feiz, Demain perde la teste, par covent li otrei.'
"You will stop before that," said the spy; "great shame have you spoken."
Archbishop Turpin's brag was next in order: it would have been more in keeping for Turpin of Hounslow Heath, and we have all seen it performed in the travelling circus. While three of the king's best horses are running at full speed on the plain, he will overtake and mount the foremost, passing the others, and will keep four big apples in constant motion from one hand to the other; if he lets one fall, put out his eyes.[foot-note] "A good brag this," is the comment of the simple scout (l'escolte), "and no shame to my lord."
William of Orange will take in one hand a metal ball which thirty men have never been able to stir, and will hurl it at the palace wall and bring down more than forty toises of it. "The king is a knave if he does not make you try," says l'escolte.
The other eight gabs may be passed over, save one. Bernard de Brusban says, "You see that roaring stream? To-morrow I will make it leave its bed, cover the fields, fill the cellars of the city, drench the people, and drive King Hugo into his highest tower, from which he shall never come down without my leave." "The man is mad," says the spy. "What a fool King Hugo was! As soon as morning dawns they shall all pack."
The spy carries his report to his master without a moment's delay. Hugo swears that if the brags are not accomplished as made, his guests shall lose their heads, and orders out a hundred thousand men-at-arms to enforce his resolution.
When the devout emperor of the west came from mass the next morning (Hugo was evidently not in a state of mind to go), he advanced to meet his brother of Constantinople, olive branch in hand; but Hugo called out from far off, "Charles, why did you make me the butt of your brags and your scorns?" and repeated that all must be done, or thirteen heads would fall. Charles replied that they had drunk a good deal of wine the night before, and that it was the custom for the French when they had gone to bed to allow themselves in jesting. He desired to speak with his knights. When they were together, the emperor said that they had drunk too much, and had uttered what they ought not. He caused the relics to be brought, and they all fell to praying and beating their breasts, that they might be saved from Hugo's wrath, when lo, an angel appeared, who bade them not be afraid; they bad committed a great folly yesterday, and must never brag again, but for this time, "Go, begin, not one of them shall fail."[foot-note]
Charles returned to Hugo master of the situation. He repeated that they bad drunk too much wine the night before, and went on to say that it was an outrage on Hugo's part to set a spy in the room, and that they knew a land where such an act would be accounted villainy: "but all shall be carried out; choose who shall begin." Hugo said, Oliver; and let him not fall short of his boast, or I will cut off his head, and the other twelve shall share his fate. The next morning, in pursuance of an arrangement made between Oliver and the princess, the king was informed that what had been undertaken had been precisely discharged. "The first has saved himself," says Hugo ; "by magic, I believe; now I wish to know about the rest." "What next?" says Charlemagne. William of Orange was called for, threw off his furs, lifted the huge ball with one hand, hurled it at the wall, and threw down more than forty toises. "They are enchanters," said the king to his men. "Now I should like to see if the rest will do as much. If one of them fails, I will hang them all to-morrow." "Do you want any more of the gabs?" asked Charles. Hugo called upon Bernard to do what he had threatened. Bernard asked the prayers of the emperor, ran down to the water, and made the sign of the cross. All the water left its bed, spread over the fields, came into the city, filled the cellars, drenched the people, and drove King Hugo into his highest tower; Charles and the peers being the wbile ensconced in an old pine-tree, all praying for God's pity.
Charles in the tree heard Hugo in the tower making his moan: he would give the emperor all his treasure, would become his man and hold his kingdom of him. The emperor was moved, and prayed that the flood might stop, and at once the water began to ebb. Hugo was able to descend from his tower, and he came to Charles, under an "ympe tree," and repeated what he had uttered in the moment of extremity. "Do you want the rest of the gabs? " asked Charles. "Ne de ceste semaine," replied Hugo. "Then, since you are my man," said tbe emperor, "we will make a holiday and wear our crowns together." When the French saw the two monarchs walking together, and Charles overtopping Hugo by fifteen inches, tbey said the queen was a fool to compare anybody with him.
After this promenade there was mass, at which Turpin officiated, and then a grand dinner. Hugo once more proffered all his treasures to Charles, but Charles would not take a denier. "We must be going," he said. The French mounted their mules, and went off in high spirits. Very happy was Charles to have conquered such a king without a battle. Charles went directly to St. Denis, and performed his devotions. The nail and the crown he deposited on the altar, distributed the other relics over the kingdom, and for the love of the sepulchre he gave up his anger against the queen.
The story in the English ballad, so far as it is to be collected from our eight fragments, is that Arthur, represented as King of Little Britain, while boasting to Gawain of his round table, is told by Guenever that she knows of one immeasurably finer; the very trestle is worth his halls and his gold, and the palace it stands in is worth all Little Britain besides; but not a word will she say as to where this table and this goodly building may be. Arthur makes a vow never to sleep two nights in one place till he sees that round table; and, taking for companions Gawain, Tristram, Sir Bredbeddle, and an otherwise unknown Sir Marramiles, sets out on the quest.
The pilgrimage which, to save his dignity, Charles makes a cover for his visit to the rival king forms no part of Arthur's programme.[foot-note] The five assume a palmer's weed simply for disguise, and travel east and west, in many a strange country, only to arrive at Cornwall, so very little a way from home.
The proud porter of Cornwall's gate, a minion swain, befittingly clad in a suit of gold, for his master is the richest king in Christendom, or yet in heathenness, is evidently impressed with Arthur's bearing, as is quite the rule in such cases:[foot-note] he has been porter thirty years and three, but [has never seen the like]. Cornwall would naturally ask the pilgrims some questions. From their mentioning some shrine of Our Lady he infers that they have been in Britain, — Little Britain we must suppose to be meant. Cornwall asks if they ever knew King Arthur, and boasts that he had lived seven years in Little Britain, and had had a daughter by Arthur's wife, now a lady of radiant beauty, and Arthur has none such.[foot-note] He then sends for his steed, which he can ride three times as far in a day as Arthur can any of his, and we may suppose that he also exhibits to his guests a horn and a sword of remarkable properties, and a Burlow-Beanie, or Billy-blin, a seven-headed, fire-breathing fiend whom he has in his service. Arthur is then conducted to bed, and the Billy-Blin, shut up, as far as we can make out, in some sort of barrel, or other vessel,[foot-note] is set by Arthur's bed-side to hear and report the talk of the pilgrims. Now, it would seem, the knights make each their vow or brag. Arthur's is that he will be the death of Cornwall King before he sees Little Britain. Gawain, who represents Oliver, will have Cornwall's daughter home with him. Here there is an unlucky gap. Tristram should undertake to carry off the horn, Marramiles the steed, and Sir Bredbeddle the sword. But first it would be necessary to subdue the loathly fiend. Bredbeddle goes to work without dallying, bursts open the rub-chadler with his sword, and fights the fire-breathing monster in a style that is a joy to see; but sword, knife, and axe all break, and he is left without a weapon. Yet he had something better to fall back on, and that was a little book which he had found by the seaside, no doubt in the course of those long travels which conducted the pilgrims from Little Britain to Cornwall. It was probably a book of Evangiles; our Lord had written it with his hands and sealed it with his blood. With this little book, which in a manner takes the place of the relics in the French tale, for the safety of the pilgrims and the accomplisbment of their vows are secured through it, Bredbeddle conjures the Burlow-beanie, and shuts him up till wanted in a "wall of stone," which reminds us of the place in which Hugo's spy is concealed. He then reports to Arthur, who has a great desire to see the fiend in all his terrors, and, upon the king's promising to stand firm, Bredbeddle makes the fiend start out again, with his seven heads and the fire flying out of his mouth. The Billy-Blin is now entirely amenable to command: Bredbeddle has only to "conjure" him to do a thing, and it is done. First he fetches down the steed. Marramiles, who perhaps had vowed to bring off the horse, considers that he is the man to ride him, but finds he can do nothing with him, and has to call on BredbeddIe for help. The Billy-Blin is required to tell how the steed is to be ridden, and reveals that three strokes of a gold wand which stands in Cornwall's study-window will make him spring like spark from brand. And so it comes out that Cornwall is a magician. Next the horn has to be fetched, but, when brought, it cannot be sounded. For this a certain powder is required. This the fiend procures, and Tristram blows a blast which rends the horn up to the midst.[foot-note] Finally the Billy-Blin is conjured to fetch the sword, and with this sword Arthur goes and strikes off Cornwall's head. So Arthur keeps his vow, and, so far as we can see, all the rest are in a condition to keep theirs.
The English ballad retains too little of the French story to enable us to say what form of it this little was derived from. The poem of Galien would cover all that is borrowed as well as the Journey of Charlemagne. It may be regarded as an indication of late origin that in this ballad Arthur is king of Little Britain, that Bredbedclle and Marramiles are made the fellows of Gawain and Tristram, Bredbeddle carrying off all the honors, and that Cornwall has had an intrigue with Arthur's queen. The name Bredbeddle is found elsewhere only in the late Percy version of the romance of the Green Knight, Hales and Furnivall, II, 56, which version alludes to a custom of the Knights of the Bath, an order said to have been instituted by Henry IV at his coronation, in 1399.
The Färöe ballad, 'Geipa-táttur,' exists in four versions: A, Svabo's manuscript collection, 1782, III, 1, 85 stanzas; B, Sandøbog, 1822, p. 49, 140 stanzas; C, Fugløbog, c. 1840, p. 9, 120 stanzas; D, Syderø version, obtained by Hammershaimb, 1848, 103 stanzas.[foot-note] It repeats the story of the Norse saga, with a moderate number of traditional accretions and changes. The emperor, from his throne, asks his champions where is his superior [equal] . They all drop their heads; no one ventures to answer but the queen, who better had been silent. "The emperor of Constantinople" (Hakin, D), she says, "is thy superior." "If he is not," answers Karl, "thou shalt burn on bale." In B, when they have already started for Constantinople, Turpin persuades them to go rather to Jerusalem: in the other versions it must be assumed that the holy city was on the route. As Karl enters the church the bells ring and the candles light of themselves, C, D. There are thirteen seats in the choir: Karl takes the one that Jesus had occupied, and the peers those of the apostles. A heathen tells the patriarch[foot-note] that the Lord is come down from heaven, C, D. The patriarch proceeds to the church, with no attendance but his altar-book [singing from his altar-book]; he asks Karl what he has come for, and Karl replies, to see the halidoms, A, C, D. In B the patriarch presents himself to the emperor at his lodging, and inquires his purpose; and, learning that he is on his way to Constantinople, for glory, advises him first to go to the church, where the ways and means of success are to be found. The patriarch gives Karl some of the relics: the napkin on which Jesus had wiped his hands, cups from which he had drunk, etc. Karl, in A, C, now announces that he is on his way to Constantinople; the patriarch begs him not to go, for he will have much to suffer. At the exterior gate of the palace will be twelve white bears, ready to go at him; the sight of his sword [of the holy napkin, B] will cause them to fall stone-dead, or at least harmless, B. At the gate next within there will be twelve wolf-dogs[foot-note] [and further on twelve toads, B], which must be disposed of in like wise : etc. The castle stands on a hundred pillars, A, and is full of ingenious contrivances: the floor goes up to the sky, and the roof comes down to the ground, B. Karl now sets out, with the patriarch's blessing and escort. Before they reach the palace they come upon three hundred knights. and ladies dancing, which also had been foretold, and at the portals of the palace they find and vanquish the formidable beasts. The palace is to the full as splendid and as artfully constructed as they had been informed: the floor goes up and the roof comes down, B; there are monstrous figures (?), with horns at their mouths, and upon a wind rising the horns all sound, the building begins to revolve, and the Frenchmen jump up, each clinging to the other, B, C, D. Karl remembers what his wife had said, A, D.
Of the reception by the monarch of Constantinople nothing further is said. We are immediately taken to the bedroom, in which there are twelve beds, with a thirteenth in the middle, and also a stone arch, or vault, inside of which is a man with a candle. Karl proposes that they shall choose feats, make boasts, rouses [skemtar, jests, C]. These would inevitably be more or less deranged and corrupted in the course of tradition. A and C have lost many. Karl's boast, dropped in B, C, is that he will smite King Hákin, so that the sword's point shall stick in the ground, D; hit the emperor on the neck and knock him off his horse, A. Roland, in all, will blow the emperor's hair off his head with the blast of his horn. Oliver's remains as in the French poem. William of Orange's ball is changed to a bolt. The exploit with the horses and apples is assigned to Bernard in D, the only version which preserves it, as in the Norse saga; and, as in the saga again, it is Turpin, and not Bernard, who brings in the river upon the town, and forces the king to take refuge in the tower.
Early in the morning the spy reports in writing, and King Hákin, D, says that Karl and his twelve peers shall burn on the bale, A, C, D, if they cannot make good their boasts, B. Karl's queen appears to him in his sleep, A, and bids him think of last night's words. It is the queen of Constantinople in B, C, D who rouses Karl to a sense of his plight; in B she tells him that the brags have been reported, and that burning will be the penalty unless they be achieved. Karl then sees that his wife knew what she was saying, and vows to give her Hildarheim and a scarlet cloak if he gets home alive. He hastens to church; a dove descends from heaven and sits on his arm [in B a voice comes from heaven]; he is assured that the boasts shall all be performed, but never let such a thing be done again. In A three of the feats are executed, in D four, in C seven, Oliver's in each case strictly, and Turpin's, naturally, last. The king in C does the feat which is proposed by Eimer in the saga. A and C end abruptly with Turpin's exploit. In D Karl falls on his knees and prays, and the water retires; Karl rides out of Constantinople, followed three days on the road by Koronatus, as Hákin is now called, stanza 103: it is Karlamagnús that wears his crown higher. B takes a turn of its own. Roland, Olger and Oliver are called upon to do their brags. Roland blows so that nobody in Constantinople can keep his legs, and the emperor falls into the mud, but he blows not a hair off the emperor's head; Olger slings the gold-bolt over the wall, but breaks off none; Oliver gives a hundred kisses, as in the saga. The emperor remarks each time, I hold him no champion that performs his rouse that way. But Turpin's brag is thoroughly done; the emperor is driven to the tower, and begs Karl to turn off the water; no more feats shall be exacted. Now the two kaisers walk in the hall, conferring about tribute, which Karl takes and rides away. When he reaches home his queen welcomes him, and asks what happened at Constantinople: "Hvat gekk af?" "This," says Karl; "I know the truth now; you shall be queen as before, and shall have a voice in the rule."
It is manifest that Charlemagne's pilgrimage to Jerusalem and the visit to the king of Constantinople, though somewhat intimately combined in the old French geste, were originally distinct narratives. As far as we can judge, nothing of the pilgrimage was retained by the English ballad. We are not certain, even, that it is Charlemagne's visit to Hugo upon which the ballad was formed, though the great popularity of the French poem makes this altogether likely. As M. Gaston Paris has said and shown,[foot-note] the visit to Hugo is one of a cycle of tales of which the framework is this: that a king who regards himself as the richest or most magnificent in the world is told that there is somebody that outstrips him, and undertakes a visit to his rival to determine which surpasses the other, threatening death to the person who has disturbed his self-complacency, in case the rival should turn out to be his inferior. A familiar example is afforded by the tale of Aboulcassem, the first of the Mille et un Jours. Haroun Alraschid was incessantly boasting that no prince in the world was so generous as he.[foot-note] The vizier Giafar humbly exhorted the caliph not to praise himself, but to leave that to others. The caliph, much piqued, demanded, Do you then know anybody who compare's with me? Giafar felt compelled to reply that there was a young man at Basra, who, though in a private station, was not inferior even to the caliph in point of generosity. Haroun was very angry, and, on Giafar's persisting in what he had said, had the vizier arrested, and finally resolved to go to Basra to see with his own eyes: if Giafar should have spoken the truth, he should be rewarded, but in the other event be should forfeit his life.[foot-note]
This story, it is true, shows no trace of the gabs which Charlemagne and the peers make, and which Hugo requires to be accomplished on pain of death. The gabs are a well-known North-European custom, and need not be sought for further; but the requiring by one king of certain feats to be executed by another under a heavy penalty is a feature of a large class of Eastern tales of which there has already been occasion to speak: see 'The Elfin Knight,' p. 11. The demand in these, however, is made not in person, but through an ambassador. The combination of a personal visit with a task to be performed under penalty of death is seen in the Vafþrúðnismál, where Odin, disguised as a traveller, seeks a contest in knowledge with the wisest of the giants.[foot-note]
The story of the gabs has been retold in two modern imitations: very indifferently by Nivelle de la Chaussée, 'Le Roi Hugon,' Œuvres, t. V, supplément, p. 66, ed. 1778, and well by M.J. Chénier, 'Les Miracles,' III, 259, ed. 1824.[foot-note] Uhland treated the subject dramatically in a composition which has not been published: Keller, Altfranzösische Sagen, 1876, Inhalt (Koschwitz).
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