ancient English court:*

ons.

Northumbrian king Edwin (Eadwine) sits in talk with Eumer, ambassador from Cwichelm, king of the West-SaxAll at once up springs Eumer, whips out a "two-edged dagger dipped in poison," and leaps upon the king. But soft, ambassador-assassin; here is thane Lilla, "best beloved of the king's body-guard," will rush between and take the blow. Which in fact has driven the dagger through him and even into the king,- but wiped clean of poison, we suppose, in good thane Lilla's heart.

But lest this virtue too much seem that of heroic individuals here and there, it were well I showed the long-enduring reader some more specimens of it, taken this time from Old English general usage. For I fear that after all the bard of Beowulf and Wiglaf did not do full justice to the common members of that institution whereof they were part. Few institutions, truly, could have faced such saurian assault; - and was not the bard determined anyhow to get his hero gloriously slain and his successor furnished with a strong inaugural situation? Nay, unless the loyalty of which we have been saying much and promising to prove still more be one discoverable in the common heart of man, examination of these scattered instances were dismal mole-work or mere dilettantism, with small possibility in my case of apology for being.

* Bede's Ecclesiastical History: II; 9.

Hear, then, if it please you, how, according to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle,* two practising Companionships came to collision and disastrous end. For King Cynewulf of Wessex having been surprised unaccompanied and slain by Alderman Cynehard, who had long fed a family feud with him, his Companions shut up Cynehard and Company in a town and sat down before it. And then Cynehard" offered them their own desire of land and money "if they would come over to him, but they answered that "never would they join the slayer of their lord." And then they made offer of amnesty to certain relatives of theirs who were with Cynehard, which these in turn refused. So they all fell to fighting round the gate, and kept it up till all were killed except one hostage, who apparently had to fight also, or wouldn't lose the opportunity, and he was wounded.

".

And behind how many of those brief obituary notices in which the Chronicle abounds "this year King So-and-So was slain "— might not an adequately penetrative scholarship discover much the same devotion under howsoever differing circumstances? But the actors lacked both patient chroniclers and pious bards; and the penetrative scholarship which we, alas, are now so far from lacking can in these things tell us nothing. Only from the last days of Old English history has another appearance of Companionship in operation been preserved to us,― with, however, all the an* Year 755.

cient spirit full-displayed, or fittingly infused, perhaps, by one who knew well how they used to do those things of old. Truly, this Battle of Maldon does not yield to Beowulf itself in any of the finer features which they both portray. But let the reader look and judge.

In 991 A. D. a Danish army landed on the eastern coasts of England and for some time plundered as they pleased. But on the banks of the Blackwater stream near Maldon they were met and stopped by Alderman Byrhtnot of Essex. To him, accordingly, they made with their accustomed Danish modesty request for payment to depart. And to them the earl made answer, partially: Payment? We will pay you spears and poisonous points and trusty swords. . . . Too shameful seems it that ye with our tributes should take ship unfought, now that ye have come thus far in on our land."

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So both sides drew up for battle, with Blackwater stream between them. But the Danes soon found the fording-place past hope of fording. Accordingly, with nerve astounding even in the Danes, they asked crossing, and the alderman, who held it also shameful to lose such a chance of fighting, gave the fatal leave. Numbers could now overcome mere bravery; and before long Byrhtnot fell, having previously looked to heaven and thanked God for joys past. So much of the brave Byrhtnot, whose valor overwent his wisdom.

"And now turned in flight two thanes of Byrhtnot and forsook the good chief who had given them many a horse." These, the brothers Godric and Godwig valiant individualists-one bestriding Byrhtnot's battle-steed, both galloped off. "They did not care for fighting, they preferred the wood. And with them went more warriors than was anyway meet if they had been mindful of his merits who had done such good to them. Many of them, truly, thought the fleeing Godric was their lord, and on that account the folk upon the field were parted and the shield-defense was broken." It was the beginning of the end.

But when his hearth-companions saw their lord thus lying dead, "they stepped forth, the proud thanes, to leave life or avenge their loved one." And young warrior Alfwine thus incited them: "Remember now the times that we oft at our meaddrinking spake and boasted about combat.

Never shall the warriors of my nation twit me that I wanted to desert this troop, seek home, now my lord lies slain in strife. That is to me the most of ills: he was both my kinsman and my chief." Then forth he went against the enemy. And then was Offa, the chief counselor of his late lord, who had formerly, it seems, with sorrowful exactitude foretold the individualism and its event, also slain in conflict. "He had, nevertheless, accomplished what he vowed unto his lord when, before, he boasted to his benefactor that they should both

ride back into the town, whole to their homes again, or fall in battle, die upon the slaughterfield; he lay thane-like near his lord."

And now the shields are broken, and the sea-men stride among the warriors. There is time for little more of set speechmaking; but the speech of Byrhtnot's old companion is doubtless the best possible. "Mind must be the braver," shouts he, "heart the keener, courage the greater, as our strength grows less. Here lies our leader slaughtered, the good one on the ground. Ever may he mourn that now from this battle-play thinketh to turn him! I am old of life: I will not from hence; but think to lay me by the side of my lord, by so dear a man.” Soon he, too, has fallen, practising his precepts, and the fragmentary poem comes to final stop.

In such words, then, has the poet well interpreted for these true, loving thanes the deep thoughts of their hearts, which they could tell in feeble language only, and better far by deeds alone. And herewith have we come to momentary pause in this poetico-historical examination.

6. CHARACTERISTICS

The picture that I have for some time now been painting at of Companionship in operation is probably as near complete as any further manifolding of the figures found therein could make it. The several groups, whatever their respective situ