If you were a child in Early Medieval England, then your status and situation would go a very long way in determining the education that you would receive. A literary education was not always guaranteed or valued, even in a high-status family (Lapidge 2013). For those with a monastic upbringing, however, a literary education in Latin would have been essential. Considering the local vernacular was Old English, schools would have to be set up and texts would need to be written to aid instruction. The Augustine mission, which started by the order of Pope Gregory in 596 CE, made itself busy with this right from the beginning (Lapdige 2013).
A typical exercise for teaching would have been the Colloquies (Latin for ‘conversations’), a type of schoolroom exercise whereby students would play out fictional conversations to practise their Latin speaking (Lapidge 2013). Some time between 992 and 1002, a colloquy was written by the scholar Ælfric of Eynsham, who was otherwise known for his dense collection of writings on political, social, and biblical matters, compared at times in significance to the work of the Venerable Bede (Blair 2003).
Since this text was intended for the instruction of Latin, it was therefore written in Latin. This was not typical of Ælfric, who dedicated most of his life to writing in English (though he did also write an Old English glossary of Latin terms). An Old English glossary of the text itself was written later, perhaps by a student (Marsden 2015). This translation comes with a number of errors (ibid), but they are unimportant here. In either case, the Old English version provides a very interesting window into the lives of regular people (at least from the perspective of the literate class). It is also easy to put yourself in the shoes of a new student of Latin, struggling to make an accurate glossary to keep up with the text.
The colloquy, by its nature, is a fictional conversation. This one begins with a plea from some students to be taught how to speak well. The teacher (or master, in the text), then speaks to a student about this before conversing with their ‘companions.’ These are craftsmen of all different trades, whose conversations can teach us a great deal about their everyday lives. Let’s take a look at a short extract.
Master: ‘Ic āxie þē, hwæt sprycst þū? Hwæt hæfst þū weorkes?’
‘I ask you, what say you? What do you have by way of work?’
Monk: ‘Ic eom geanwyrde monuc and ic singe ǣlce dæg seofon tīda mid þām gebrōþrum, and ic eom bysgod on sange ac þēahhwæþere ic wolde betwēnan leornian sprecan on lēden gereorde.’
‘I am a professed monk and I sing seven times each day with the brothers, and I am occupied with singing but nevertheless I would like in the meantime to learn to speak in the Latin Language.’
Master: ‘Hwæt cunnon þās þīne gefēran?’
‘What can these friends of yours do?’
Monk: ‘Sume synt yrþlingas, sume scēphyrdas, sume oxanhyrdas, sume ēac swylce huntan, sume fisceras, sume fugeleras, sume cȳpmenn, sume scēwyrhtan, sealteras, bæceras.’
‘Some are ploughmen, some are shepherds, some are ox-herds, some are also huntsmen, some are fishermen, some are merchants, some are shoe-makers, salters, [and] bakers.’
Master: ‘Hwæt sægest þū, yrþling? Hū begǣst þū þīn weorc?’
‘What say you, ploughman? How do you practise your work?’
Ploughman: ‘Ēalā lēof hlāford, þearle ic deorfe. Ic gā ūt on dægrǣd, þȳwende *þā oxon tō felda, and iugie hig tō þǣre syl. Nys hit swā stearc winter þæt ic durre lūtian æt hām for ege hlāfordes mīnes; ac, geiukodan oxan and gefæstnodon sceare and cultre mit þǣre syl, ǣlce dæg ic sceal erian fulne æcer oþþe māre.’
‘Hello dear lord, I labour very hard. I go out at daybreak, driving the oxes to the field, and yoke them to the plough. There is not a winter so stark that I dare hide at home for fear of my lord; but, with the oxen yoked and the share and coulter fastened to the plough, every day I must plough a full field or more.’
Master: ‘Hæfst þū ǣnigne gefēran?’
‘Do you have any companions?’
Ploughman: ‘Ic hæbbe sumne cnapan þȳwende þā oxan mid gādīsene, þe ēac swilce nū hās ys for cylde and hrēame.’
‘I have a certain boy that drives the oxes with a cattle-prod, who is also now hoarse because of the cold and shouting.’
Master: ‘Hwæt māre dēst þū on dæg?’
‘What more do you do during the day?’
Ploughman: ‘Gewyslīce þænne māre ic dō. Ic sceal fyllan þǣra oxena binnan mid hīge and wæterian hig, and heora scearn beran ūt.’
‘I certainly still do more. I must fill the oxen’s bins with hay, and give them water, and curry their muck outside.’
Master: ‘Hig! Hig! Micel gedeorf ys hyt.’
‘O! O! This is a great labour.’
Ploughman: ‘Gēa lēof, micel gedeorf hit ys, forþām ic neom frēoh.’
‘Yes lord, it is a great labour, because I am not free.’
Master: ‘Hwæt sægest þū, scēaphyrde, hæfst þū ǣnig gedeorf?’
‘What say you, shepherd, do you have any work?’
Shepherd: ‘Gēa lēof, ic hæbbe. On forewerdne morgen ic drīfe mīne scēap tō heora lǣse and stande ofer hig on hǣte and on cyle mid hundum, þē lǣs wulfas forswelgen hig; and ic āgēnlǣde hig on heora loca and melke hig tweowa on dæg, and heora loca ic hæbbe; and cȳse and buteran ic dō þǣrtō. And ic eom getrȳwe mīnon hlāforde.’
‘Yes lord, I do. In the early morning I drive my sheep to their pasture and stand over them in heat and cold with dogs, lest wolves devour them; and I lead them back to their folds, and milk them twice a day, and I protect their folds. I make cheese and butter as well. And I am loyal to my lord.’
Master: ‘‘Þū, cnapa, hwæt dydest þū tōdæg?’
‘You, boy, what did you do today?’
Student: ‘Manega þing ic dyde. On þisse niht, þā þā þone cnyll ic gehȳrde, ic ārās on mīnon bedde and ēode tō cyrcean and sang ūhtsang mid þām gebrōþrum. Æfter þām, wē sungon be eallum hālgum and dægrēdlīce lofsanges; æfter þysum, prīm┐ and seofon seolmas mid letanīan and capitolmæssan; syþþan undertīde, and dydon mæssan be dæge. Æfter þisum wē sungon middæg, and ǣton and druncon and slēpon, and eft wē ārison and sungon nōn. And nū wē synd hēr ætforan þē, gearuwe gehȳran hwæt þū ūs secge.’
‘I have done many things. This night, when I heard the call, I rose from my bed, and went out to the church, and sang nocturns with the brethren; then we sang of all the saints, and the matin song of praise; after that prime, and the seven psalms, with litanies, and the first mass, then terce, and we performed the mass of the day, after that we sang sext; then we ate and drank, and had our sleep, and rose up again, and sang nones, and now we are here before you, prepared to hear what you may say to us.’
Master: ‘Hwænne wylle gē syngan ǣfen oþþe nihtsang?’
‘When will you sing vespers and compline?’
Student: ‘‘Þonne hyt tīma byþ.’
‘When it is time.’
Master: ‘Wǣre þū tōdæg beswungen?’
‘Were you beaten today?’ * It was likely common practice to beat students for poor performance and other transgressions (Marsden 2015).
Student: ‘Ic næs, forþām wærlīce ic mē hēold.’
‘I was not, because I conducted myself carefully.’
Master: ‘And hū þīne gefēran?’
‘And how about your companions?’
Student: ‘‘Hwæt mē āhsast þū be þām? Ic ne dear yppan þē digla ūre.’ Ānra gehwylc wāt gif hē beswungen wæs oþþe nā.’
‘Why do you ask me about that? I would not dare betray to you our secrets. Each of us knows if he was flogged or not.’ *Although speaking of your companions' transgressions is seen as important here, what is equally of value is the apparent solidarity the student shares with other monks.
Master: ‘Hwæt ytst° þū on dæg?’
‘What did you eat today?’
Student: ‘Gȳt flǣscmettum ic brūce, forðām cild ic eom under gyrda drohtniende.’
‘Still I partake of meat, because I am a child living under the rod.’ *The Rule of St. Benedict, followed by monks, forbade eating meat except for the younger novices (Marsden 2015).
Master: ‘Hwæt māre ytst þū?’
‘What else do you eat?’
Student: ‘Wyrta and ǣigra, fisc and cȳse, buteran and bēana and ealle clǣne þing ic ete mid micelre þancunge°.’
‘Vegetables and eggs, fish and cheese, butter and beans and all things clean I eat with much thankfulness.’
Master: ‘‘Swȳþe waxgeorn eart þū, þonne þū ealle þing etst þe þē tōforan synd.’
‘You are very greedy, when you eat every thing to eat that is put before you.’
Let’s stop there. If you’d like to read more, follow this link.
What is striking about the dialogues is the humanity it ascribes to regular people, something rather absent in Old English literature.There is a fisherman who fears hunting whales, a hunter who must learn to be brave in the forest, a fowler who has trouble feedings his birds in the summer, and a merchant who worries about feeding and clothing his family (Hall 2009). The text is often seen as a window into everyday life in Early Medieval England, though there is a clear bias towards the importance of the church (ibid). This is, of course, not surprising considering the ecclesiastical background of the text.
On top of this, there is a certain social idealism to the dialogues of the Colloquy. The Benedictine ideal, by which each craftsman works in their own way for the benefit of the whole and in service of God, is very present in the text (Anderson 1974). Ælfric masterfully combines this idealistic vision into an instructional text that is both informative as it is entertaining. This is perfectly in keeping with his large corpus, which has always combined rhetoric with his consideration of morality (Lees 2009).
This is a text wrapped up in real life practises both in content (regular people and their trades) and in purpose (to be used in the day-to-day instruction of Latin). This is unlike some of the more famous Old English texts, like Beowulf or the histories of Bede, which both concern themselves with the world of heroes and elite groups. For that reason, the Colloquy is one of the most memorable texts from this period.
Cited Texts
Blair, P. (2003), An Introduction to Anglo-Saxon England, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Marsden, R. (2015), The Cambridge Old English Reader, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Lapidge, M. (2013), The Wiley-Blackwell Encyclopedia of Anglo Saxon England, Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell.
Hall, T. (2009), ‘Ælfric as Pedagogue’, in Magennis, H. & Swan, M, A Companion to Ælfric, Leiden: Brill Press.
Lees, C. (2009), ‘In Ælfric’s Words: Conversion, Vigilance and the Nation in Ælfric’s Life of Gregory the Great’, in Magennis, H. & Swan, M, A Companion to Ælfric, Leiden: Brill Press.