The Romance of Horn is widely admired as one of the most impressive Insular romances of the twelfth century, ‘a neglected masterpiece’, ‘an astonishing and unprecedented—and perhaps unmatched—achievement’. Despite its quality and importance, however, it has received comparatively little close attention. It is recognized as an important piece of evidence for our understanding of the wider political and cultural context within which Anglo-Norman romances were written—as in Laura Ashe's important chapter— and appears regularly in discussions of the Horn story across two vernaculars and three centuries. But remarkably few studies have given attention to the detailed fabric of Thomas's narrative and the focus on those areas it shares with the English language versions neglects its greatest strengths. Unlike the Middle English versions of the Horn story, the Romance of Horn is a lengthy work of some 5,200 lines, written in the long line laisse of French epic poetry. The leisured narrative is indicative of its courtly provenance and provides opportunity for generous elaboration of action and place unavailable in the briefer, sharper, English language versions. This paper looks specifically at the areas of the poem where Thomas has provided rich details of courtly life, its material culture, and, it will be argued, its range of emotional behaviour.

Dated fairly confidently to around 1170, and credibly placed in the Dublin celebrations of Henry II's visit to the Anglo-Norman colony in Ireland in 1171–2, its context is further confirmed by the courtly nature of the romance itself. Long, richly detailed and self-consciously crafted by a named poet, Thomas, it demonstrates knowledge of fashionable contemporary literature— the chansons de geste, the romans antiques, Wace, the Tristan story. There are other aspects of its courtly nature which are important if not so immediately evident: a certain type of insider humour, a realistic rather than deferential attitude to courtly life and behaviour, an ability to analyse and at times criticize the society and social mores it describes.

The Anglo-Norman romances offer a welcome exception to the widespread anonymity of insular romance. Since Legge's seminal work, these romances have been confidently associated with the milieu of the Anglo-Norman baronial class, and with places and events close to their world. Legge sees them as ‘ancestral’, others, such as Crane, as more generally representing the tastes and interests of the baronial class. Something is known, and more persuasively speculated, about their patrons, and many of their authors are named. The argument as to whether or not these romances can be read as ‘ancestral’ has long focused interest on patronage, as have other approaches: the theoretical death of the author, the near-invisibility of many of these authors (although not by comparison with the Middle English versions), the interest in reception, in audience, in women in that audience, even in ownership of manuscripts – all these interests focus on the issue of whom these works were written for and prioritise the agency of the patron and audience over that of the author. The patrons are more glamorous, redolent of the colour and power of medieval lordship, and so there is a tendency to see them as setting the agenda. I should like to shift the enquiry onto whom the romances were written by and to re-examine the models we have of the relationship between author and patron, in order to ask whose interest is being served.

This chapter concerned with the romance culture of Anglo-Norman England and its influence on Middle English romance culture through translation activity. It deals with the long fourteenth century, the period of changeover from French to English as the language of choice for narratives in England from the appearance of the early Middle English romances to the end of the century. Romance is a genre which is increasingly recognized as expressive of social and national identity and is therefore a focus of attitudes, both medieval and modern, to language change and choice. The romance culture of England, in the two vernaculars, provides ample evidence of the exploitation of available romance material by another generation and in another language. This is largely through a process of translation, understood as the medieval practice of enhancing, abbreviating or amplifying a text, but also one which incorporates selection, choice, rejection and reinterpretation of earlier material for a new audience.

The questions I want to examine in this paper arise from a survey of romance as translation. This indicated that there was more to be done on the assessment of patterns of translation activity in general and that there is a need to reassess assumptions about the circumstances that produced the Middle English romances from identifiable French-language sources. Providing a survey of Middle English romance as translation shows how multi-faceted translation activity is and how it has been obscured by unexamined generalizations about relationships between materials in the two vernaculars.

Short summary

Guy, the son of the steward of Earl Rohaud of Warwick, falls helplessly in love with the Earl's daughter Felice. Felice will grant him her love once he has proved himself as a knight. Guy travels to France with his companions, including Herhaud of Ardern. He distinguishes himself in a tournament at Rouen and as a prize is offered the love of Blancheflour, the daughter of the German Emperor Reiner. Guy returns to England to claim the love of Felice [E 209–1054; Auchinleck 235–1130; CUL 177–792].

On his return, Felice tells Guy that she will grant him her love only when he has proved himself the best of all knights. Guy travels abroad again and distinguishes himself in a series of tournaments. His adventures include: the ambush at the orders of Duke Otes (whom he had earlier wounded at Rouen) and the battle for the Duke of Louvain against the Emperor Reiner. The Emperor Reiner's champion is Tirri. Otes is also fighting on his side and violently opposes the reconciliation that Guy finally effects between the two former enemies. Guy next travels to Constantinople. He frees the land of the Emperor Hernis from the forces of the Sultan and is offered his daughter in return. However, Guy is hated by the Emperor's jealous steward Morgadour, who slanders him and kills his pet lion. At this, Guy kills Morgadour, refuses to marry the daughter, and leaves. In Lorraine Guy rescues Tirri (who has become his sworn brother) and his mistress Oisel and then helps Albri (Tirri's father) against Loher (Oisel's father) and Otes (now Oisel's intended husband). After rescuing Tirri from prison Guy kills Otes. Then, whilst hunting Guy kills a young knight and has to fight with the vassals of Florentin, the knight's father. Guy returns to England and kills a dragon that is devastating Northumberland. He returns to Warwick, marries Felice, and conceives a child [E 1055–7562; Auchinleck 1131–7306, stanzas 3–19; CUL 793–7116].

A fortnight after the marriage, Guy repents that he has so long neglected God through his excessive devotion to Felice and sets out on a pilgrimage of atonement. After visiting Jerusalem and Bethlehem, he successfully fights for King Triamour against the Sultan's gigantic champion, Amoraunt.

Gui de Warewic is one of the latest of the Anglo-Norman romances; Guy of Warwick is a comparatively early Middle English romance – the one responds to the foundational texts of insular romance and the other has an ongoing influence on later texts (as this volume demonstrates). Between them they form one of the most popular legends created by English romance writers, and the essential question remains that asked by M. Domenica Legge: ‘What, then, could be the cause of the strange fascination this story [Gui] has exerted?’ This chapter will re-examine the relationship between these two versions, arguing that the close resemblances are more significant to our understanding of the development of insular romance than the differences – the most obvious of which is the change in language.

The story of Guy of Warwick indeed provides one of the most popular romances of the English middle ages, sufficiently popular to give rise to numerous versions across several centuries. Popularity is itself a slippery concept; it can be measured variously: by evident success, by subjective assessment of literary quality, or by assumptions about audience. By the first measure, Gui is evidently as popular, if not more so, than Guy, in that more manuscripts survive or are recorded. By the second measure, the legend of Guy is recognized as a benchmark – ‘an epitome of what was most popular’ – but in response to the apparent register of literature in French, subjective readings of the two linguistic versions have tended to find ‘popular’ attitudes and styles in the Middle English rather than the Anglo-Norman versions. This relates to the third, more problematic, measure. Gui, written in the socially superior vernacular of the thirteenth century, is associated with baronial patrons and audiences, seen as distinct from the ‘popular’ or populist audiences posited for Guy. I would suggest, however, that the popularity, however assessed, of the English-language versions of the story of Guy owes its existence to that of Gui, or to be more precise, it is the author of Gui de Warewic who can be given the double-edged compliment of being recognized as the first writer of popular fiction amongst insular romance writers.