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Introduction to the Text

The Roman des Franceis, also known as “Arflet,” is a short satirical piece in octosyllabic verses, arranged in four-line strophes. Its author, who names himself André (361, 371, 385, 395), has been confirmed by Gaston Paris to be André de Coutances, the Norman who is known as the author of an Évangile de Nicodème (Paris and Bos 1885, xvi–xix, xxiv–xxvii). It should be noted, however, that the attribution is hypothetical. Given its subject matter and the views expressed therein, it has been suggested that the Roman des Franceis could not have been written after 1204, when Philippe-Auguste invaded Normandy.

The Roman des Franceis is presented as a charter issued by Alfred, king of Northumberland. It takes a biting stance towards the French, who are depicted as cowardly, stingy, and poor garlic-eating wretches. First, it stages the invasion of France by King Arthur (41-224), during which Arthur defeats Frollo, king of the French, in a duel (173-192) and throws the French into serfdom after the latter’s defeat (193-208). André then goes on to describe the stinginess of the French: to avoid petty fighting over food, they developed the tradition of tying pieces of bread to strings, allowing them to retrieve their share of soup (237-312; this motif has been studied by Félix Lecoy [1970]), and they have their guests pay for their share of food (345-360). The Roman des Franceis also includes a series of burlesque commandments proffered by Frollo (137-156). While the text chiefly targets the French, the English get their share of satirical observations too, heavy drinkers as they are (5-15). It should be noted that when the text refers to “the French,” it might be refering to the inhabitants of the small royal domain surrounding Paris (see 62-64). At the time it was likely written, half of what we know as France was under Plantagenet rule, while the other half was only nominally subject to the king of France. The list of names at the end of the poem (386-396), as well as the list of peers of France, copied in Latin after the Roman and transcribed here, attests to this.

Introduction to the Source

The Roman des Franceis appears in London, British Library, MS Add. 10289, fols. 129v-132v. The manuscript was likely made in Mont-Saint-Michel in the late 13th century (Paris and Bos 1885, xix–xxiv; see also the BL manuscript notice), and besides the Roman des Franceis, it contains a number of other texts, listed by Paris and Bos. Some texts have a connection to the manuscript’s place of production, such as ours and Guillaume de Saint-Pair’s Roman du Mont-Saint-Michel, while others are less place-specific. The text of the Roman des Franceis is at times rather obscure, in all likelihood due to the vagaries of transmission. It has been edited by Achille Jubinal (1842, vol 2, 1–17), and more recently and with substantial improvements by Anthony Holden (1973). The GMS translation is based on an interpretive transcription of the Roman des Franceis, and occasionally draws on Holden’s edition, commentary or glossary to establish a legible text, where necessary.

Further Reading

Catalog notice for Add. MS 10289. n.d. British Library. http://www.bl.uk/manuscripts/FullDisplay.aspx?ref=Add_MS_10289.

Holden, Anthony J. “Le Roman des Franceis.” Études de langue et de littérature du Moyen Âge offertes à Félix Lecoy par ses collègues, ses élèves et ses amis. Champion, 1973, pp. 213-33.

Jubinal, Achille, ed. Nouveau Recueil de contes, dits, fabliaux et autres pièces inédites des XIIIe, XIVe et XVe siècles pour faire suite aux collections de Legrand d’Aussy, Barbazan et Méon. Challamel, 1842.

Lecoy, Félix. “A propos du Roman des Franceis d’André de Coutances.” Revue de linguistique romane, vol. 34, 1970, pp. 123-25. http://eliphi.fr/list/#.

Paris, Gaston, and Alphonse Bos, editors. Trois Versions rimées de l’Évangile de Nicodème Par Chrétien, André de Coutances, et un anonyme. Didot, 1885.

Romance of the French (Alfred) | Le Roman des Franceis (Arflet)

Ici se comence le Romanz des Franceis

Reis Arflet de Nohundrelande

As boens beveors saluz mande,

Les autres a maufez commande,

Quer il nes prise une alemande.

5 Le viel Arflet fu son ancestre

Qui des guides fu sire et mestre.

Cil si enbat destre et senestre

Tant qu’il en set quanqu’en puet estre.

Mestre est des cerveises estales,

10 Bien les conoist bones et males;

Bien est sire des escales*,

Des gestinges et des ervales.

De lui vos di en dreite fei

Que sevent a beü sanz sei,

15 Et bien est veir que endreit sei

Ne veut que dechie guersei.

Rimé ont de lui li Franceis

Lez le pot ou bollent VI peis;

Par icestes meismes leis

20 S’en volent vengier li Engleis.

Il ont dit que riens n’a valu,

Et donc à Arflet n’a chalu

Que boté fu par Capalu

Li reis Artur en la palu;

25 Et que le chat l’ocist de guerre,

Puis passa outre en Engleterre,

Et ne fu pas lenz de conquerre;

Ainz porta corone en la terre,

Et fu sire de la contree.

30 Ou ont itel fable trovee?

Mençonge est, Dex le set, provee:

Onc greignor ne fu encontree.

Mes li chaitif, li espové,

Li mal peü, li tart cové,

35 Li patarin, li endové,

Où ont-il d’autre contrové?

Trop ont dit d’Artur grant enfance,

Quer Artu fu de tel puissance

Que Franceis conquist o sa lance:

40 Mau eritage mist en France.

Bien savon que Bien et Belin,

Maximien et Costentin

Furent a Franceis mal veisin,

Et France orent, ce est* la fin.

45 D’Engleterre furent tuit rei,

Chescun conquist France endroit sei,

Chescun en pleis a le bofei,

Le gorgeïr et le desrei.

Au rei Artur le deraain,

50 De celui sommes nos certain,

Voudrent* fere plet, mes en vain,

Quer il les out bien sor* sa main.

Quant de lor orguil s’averti,

Maugré eus toz les converti,

55 Et le païs acuverti:

Dites se ce est veir parti?

Jamés n’iert jor que il n’i pere;

Douce esteit* France, or est amere;

Mout ourent en Artur dur pere,

60 Sa sorvenue mout compere.

Mout fu Artur proz et corteis;

Quant out conquis Chartres et Bleis,

Et Orliens et tot Estampeis,

A Paris vint o ses Engleis.

65 La vile asist, n’en dotez mie;

Mout out bone chevalerie

Et bien estruite et bien garnie,

Si l’a fierement asallie.

Engleis fierement asallirent,

70 Franceis merdement defendirent:

Au premier assaut se rendirent,

Et hontosement s’en partirent.

A cel partir fu apelee

Paris, ci n’a nul celee,

75 Qui primes fu Termes nommee,

Et mout ert de grant renommee.

Frolles ert apelé le reis,

Qu’Artur conquist o ses Engleis;

Et de Frolles sont dit Franceis:

80 Qui primes eurent non Bailleis.

Frolles, qui de France fu sire,

Ne sout que faire ne que dire;

Grant mautalent out et grant ire:

Franceis manda a un concire.

85 Li baron l’ont a ce amis

Qui ses messages a tramis

A Artur; si li a pramis

Qu’encor porroient estre amis,

Se de sa terre s’en issist

90 Que a mout grant tort saisseïst;

Et s’il ne la guerpisseïst

De batalle le aasteïst

Par eus dous, que plus n’i eüst:

Eissi le voleit, ce seüst.

95 Cous rendist qui cous receüst,

Et plus feïst qui plus peüst.

Artur respondi: ‘Dex i valle;

Defendré mei, s’est qui m’asalle;

Seit a demein ceste batalle,

100 A Paris, en l’Isle, sanz falle.’

De ça et de la sunt certain

De la batalle a l’endemain:

Qui veintra tot, eit en sa main

Les bois, les viles et le plain.

105 Frolles durement menaça,

De jurer ne s’apereça,

Dex tot par menbres depeça,

Que Artur mal s’i aproça.

Artur, qui n’out pas cuer de glace,

110 Preisa mout petit sa menace;

Mieuz l’amast a tenir en place

Que voer Dieu en mi la face.

Artur, qui out grant desierrer,

Se fist matin aparellier,

115 Lui et Labagu son destrier,

Et se fist en l’Isle nagier.

Frolles jusqu’a tierce dormi,

Et lors quant il se desdormi

Endeseetes s’estormi

120 Com se l’eüssent point formi.

Franceis, qui moroient d’ennui,

Li distrent: ‘Leverez-vos hui?’

Il dist ‘aol!’*, et de nullui

N’ont Franceis aol fors de lui.

125 Tot en gesant, sans sei drecier,

Se fist Frolles aparellier;

D’ilonc sunt Franceis costumier,

Que en gesant se font chaucier.

Ainz que Frolles se fust armez

130 S’est tierce fiee pasmez;

Lors fu des Franceis mout blasmez*,

Mes il lor dist: ‘Ne vos tamez;

Ce me vient de grant hardement:

Mort est Artu veraement.’

135 Lors les prist toz par serement,

Qu’il tendront son commandement.

‘Coment, dist-il, que il m’avienge,

De mes bones mors vos sovienge;

Mar i aura cil qui Diu crienge

140 Se leauté a homme tienge.

Cruel seiez à desmesure,

Avel, fei mentie, perjure;

El vostre garder metez cure,

De l’autrui prenez a dreiture.

145 Artur vos voudra del suen tendre,

Prenez-le sanz guerredon rendre;

Ainz vos lessiez ardeir ou pendre

Que le vostre veiez despendre.

De dez seiez boens joeors

150 Et de Deu bons perjureors,

En autrui cort richeeors,

Poi fesanz et boens vanteors.

Acreez, si ne rendez rien;

Haez ceus qui vos ferunt bien;

155 Plus ordement vivez que chien,

Et seiez tuit armeneisien.’

Frolles en France mist ces leis;

Bien le retindrent li Franceis,

Et encor i out il sordeis;

160 Mes je n’en diré or ampleis.

Quant armé fu a quelque paine,

Son mestre chambellenc aceine:

‘Va tost, dist-il, et si te paine

Que aie pullente aleine.’

165 Cil conut bien sa volenté,

Que d’allie s’ert dementé,

Plain vessel l’en a presenté

Et il en menja a plenté.

Ne se pout Frolles atenir

170 Que des auz ne feïst venir,

Tant por usage maintenir,

Tant por Artur en sus tenir.

Franceis qui devant lui esterent

D’aler en l’Isle se hasterent.

175 A quelque paine l’i menerent;

Laissierent le, si retornerent.

Frolles remest sor son destrier,

Artur vit venir fort et fier;

Lors n’out en lui que corrocier

180 Quant vers lui le vit aprochier.

Frolles acuit a menecier

Et Artur trait le brant d’acier;

Quant Frolles vit le cop haucier,

A terre se lessa cachier

185 Andui es estruis s’afichierent,

Si que, quant il s’entr’aprocherent,

Amedous lor lances bruiserent

Et lor chevaus s’agenoillerent.

Et dist: ‘Merci, Artur, beau sire;

190 Je suis recreant, ne m’ocire.’

Artur ne pout atremper s’ire,

Frolles ocist, n’en puis el dire.

Franceis furent espoenté

Quant lor rei virent graventé.

195 A Artur se sont presenté

Que d’eus face sa volenté.

Et il qui toz les voleit pendre,

Quant si humblement les vit rendre,

Ne vout envers Deu tant mesprendre;

200 Par tote France fist defendre

Que nul ne n’i eüst pendu.

Vie et menbre lor a rendu.

En autre sens lor a vendu

Que vers lui se sont defendu.

205 Quer il les mist toz en servage

Ou encore est tot lor lignage;

Iloc donna en eritage

Artur, as Franceis, cuvertage.

Franceis en l’Isle s’en passerent,

210 Lor rei qui mort ert enporterent.

En un grant feu le cors boterent

Que por lui ardre alumerent.

Deables furent en agait

Qui d’Enfer ourent le feu trait

215 Dont il alumerent l’atrait

Qui por Frolles ardeir fut fait.

Mout out cel feu male ensuiance,

Que d’iloc avient sanz dotance

Qu’encor en art en remenbrance

220 Del feu d’Enfer la gent de France.

De Franceis prist Artur homage,

Et il establi par vitage

IIII deniers de cuvertage

Por raaindre lor chevelage.

225 Assez trovent qui lor reconte

Cest hontage, mes rien ne monte,

De ce ne tienent plé ne conte,

Car il ne sevent aveir honte.

Ja Franceis celui n’amera

230 Qui bien et ennor li fera;

Mes com il plus honi sera

Et il tanz gorgeiera.

Quer savez que liu* u esrez,

Ja mar Franceis de rien crerrez:

235 Sel querez, ja nel troverez;

Sel trovez, ja prou n’i aurez.

Quant li Franceis veut cort tenir,

Et il se veut bel* contenir,

Deu pain de segle fet venir

240 Por sei richement contenir.

Et chescun en est par partie

Sa dreite livreison partie.

La croste seivrent de la mie,

Puis font entre els une aramie,

245 De sopes faire en la paele;

Qu’il n’i covent* autre escuele.

A trere les y a berele,

Tel ore est qui n’est mie bele.

Mes il font une autre veisdie,

250 Ne m’est or lai que nel vos die:

Qu’a traire les n’i ait boisdie*,

Chescun d’un fil sa sope lie.

Un fil tient chescun en sa main

Tant que il a trempé son pain;

255 Si est de sa sope certain

Tant commë il veit son fil sain.

Mes quant il ront ou il desnoe*,

Que la soupe deu fil descroe,

Donc va a chose à male voe,

260 Quer chescun dit que ele est soe.

Dont orriez Dex desmembrer,

Ventre, langue, gorge, amenbrer;

Dieu ne porreit longues durer,

S’il en perout por son jurer.

265 Sovent i a meinte aatie

Et mainte colee partie;

Mes il font une autre establie

Qui fet remaindre la folie:

Et il jugent que cil qui a

270 Icel fil greignor dreit i a;

Sor sainz jure qui enlia

Cele sope qui deslia.

L’estrif remaint et la meslee

Quant il l’a a soe provee;

275 Mes mout est sovent esgardee

Et enviree et golosee.

Et quant il metent pot a feu,

Lez le pot asieent un queu;

Lors n’i aureit ne ris ne geu

280 Se il se parteit de cel leu.

Trop i porroit mesavenir,

Sagement l’estuet contenir,

Que por le bollon retenir

Li estuet la cullier tenir.

285 Se li bollon n’alout a droit,

A la char qui cuit mescharroit,

Quer tost fors del pot s’en saudroit

Des que li bollon l’asaudroit.

Si l’avreient* perdue enfin,

290 Quer le chat entrereit a fin,

Ou la sori ou* le poucin

Enportereit tot le bocin.

A traire la deu pot s’esmaient;

Et quant ce est qu’il s’i essaient,

295 Ce ne puet estre que il l’aient

Se tote l’eue anceis ne traient.

Et quant l’eue en est puree,

Chescun aguete, chescun bee,

Chescun feit oreison privee

300 Que Deux dont qu’ele seit trouvee.

Et quant il trovent cel merel,

Lors sachiez que mout lor est bel;

Gragnor joie en a eu hamel

Que outre mer deu feut novel.

305 Donc est aporte li coteaus,

Si est detrenchié par morseaus

Petit, mes de tel granz seviaus

Com cels dont* l’en guie as meriaus.

S’il avient que non per i ait,

310 Iloc n’a mie grant dehait,

Quer donc sont li dé avant tret:

Qui Dieu donra plus poinz, si l’ait.

Lor dobliers volent nez tenir,

Et c’est legier a avenir,

315 Quer qui lor mengier veit fenir

De lasté li puet sovenir.

Arflet tesmoignë en son brief

Qu’il menjuent tot lor relief;

Ce est as povres grant meschief,

320 Et si apelent de cest grief.

Li chien se plaignent d’autre part

Que quant l’os de la table part,

Tant lor vient megre et tant a tart

Que de tot le trovent bastart;

325 Ou li Franceis l’a tot mengié,

Ou il l’aura si pres rungié

Que quant il li done congié

De neent a le chien paié.

D’iluec vient, nient d’autre nature,

330 Quë il ont blanche endenteüre,

Quer le rore de l’os lor cure

Les denz et blanchist et escure.

Quant li Franceis se fet seignier,

Si fet atorner mengier

335 Dont* nus hom ne doit ja pleidier:

Ne s’en sareit fors els aidier,

S’il ne la vet de lor doutrine.

Vinee en gorge de geline,

Si n’est pas deu tot orfeline,

340 Quer sel i metent et ferine,

Et porreiz et oignons et alz,

Et de lorer fere granz salz,

Et de l’escost estorcer chauz

                

345 Qui o les Franceis mengera,

A quei que seit, escotera;

Quer ou as* noiz entenciera

Ou des escaloignes fera

Franceis* a tot le mains venir

350 Por sei richement contenir;

Quer icel ne puet avenir

Que d’escot se sachent tenir

Tant com en lor contrees seient;

Tant com en lor contrees seient;

355 Et a autrui table richeent

Et blasment quanque il i veent.

Et quant il sont en lors ostex,

Si conoisson Franceis a tex,

A tant merdes, à tant avex,

360 Qu’en les devreit tuer o pex.

André sa chartre fine a tant,

A Paris l’envoie batant;

Qui la lira seit en estant,

Quer Franceis s’iront mout crestant*;

365 S’ele est sus Petit Pont retraite,

Ou de colee ou de retraite

Ara celui la teste fraite

Qui la lira, s’il ne se gaite.

Mout sera isnel de prinsaut

370 Se en Siene ne fet saut.

André prent congié, Dex vos saut!

Mes savez qu’en sa chartre faut?

                

Et qu’il a oblié a dire,

375 Por ce que il n’en veut mesdire

Ne Franceis del tot desconfire.

Tirenlire est pain enallié

Et o la douse d’al freié;

Ja Franceis ne sera hetié

380 Le jor qu’il n’en seit comencié.

Ce est un legier companage

Qui tot le cors lor asoage;

Mes ja o Dieu n’ert heritage

Qui primes fist tel mariage!

385 Andreu a sa chartre finee;

Bien l’ont li Engleis graantee,

Que rien nule n’i ont trovee

Qui ne seit verité provee.

Bien l’ont graanté li Flamenc,

390 Et Borgueignon et Loherenc,

Que prendrei ge tot à renc.

Mes en verité vos aprenc

Que Engleis, Breton, Angevin,

Mansel, Gascoign, et Peitevin,

395 Tienent Andreu a bon devin,

Quer partot dit veir. C’est la fin.

Explicit Arflet.

Hii sunt duodecim pares Francie.

Dux Burgondie.

400 Dux Normannie.

Dux Aquitanie.

Comes Flandrie.

Comes Campanie.

Comes Sancti Egidii.

405 Archiepiscopus Remensis.

Archiepiscopus Lingolnensis.

Episcopus Beluacensis.

Archiepiscopus Lugdunensis.

Episcopus Novioniensis.

410 Episcopus Cathalaunensis.

Here begins the romance of the French

King Alfred of Northumberland

Sends greetings to the good drinkers,

The others he commends to demons,

Because he does not value them much*.

5 Old Alfred was his ancestor,

He was the lord and master of banquets.

The other one throws himself from one side to the other

So much that he knows all about it.

He is the master of settled beer,

10 He knows it good and bad;

He is the lord of drinking bowls,

Of banquets and of feasts.

I tell you truthfully

That he has often drank without thirst,

15 And it is true that he does not want

Wassail to fall into disuse.

The French have made some rhymes about him,

Next to a pot where six peas were boiling;

By the same token, the English

20 Want to take revenge.

The English said that it has not worked out,

And so Alfred did not care

That king Arthur was thrown

Into the marsh by the cat Capalu;

25 And that the cat killed him at war,

And crossed the Channel into England,

And was quick to make conquests,

So that he even wore a crown in those lands,

And became the lord of the region.

30 Where did they find such a tale?

It’s a proven lie, God knows it:

Never has one found a bigger one.

But the miserable, the overwhelmed,

The malnourished, the misbred,

35 The naughty, the possessed,

Where have they found these imaginary things?

They told enough silly tales about Arthur,

Because Arthur was of such power

That he conquered the French with his lance:

40 He placed a wicked lineage in France.

We know well that Brenne and Belin,

Maximien and Constantin

Were bad neighbours to the French,

And they had France in their power, that’s how it ends.

45 They were all kings of England,

Each one of them conquered France,

Each one was full of pride when he pleaded,

Full of garrulousness and of reckless conduct.

To Arthur, the last king,

50 —of him we are assured—

They wanted to contest his power, but that was in vain,

Because he had them firmly in his command.

When he noticed their arrogance,

He turned them despite themselves,

55 And he subjected the land:

Tell me if that is a truthful distribution!

There was not a day that he would not be seen;

France used to be sweet, now it is bitter;

They had a very harsh father in Arthur,

60 His arrival made a notable difference.

Arthur was very worthy and courtly;

Once he conquered Chartres and Blois,

And Orléans and all of Étampes,

He went to Paris with his Englishmen.

65 He besieged the city, let there be no doubt about it;

He had very good knights,

Well trained and well-armed,

So he bravely assailed it.

The English bravely assailed,

70 The French shittily defended:

With the first assault they surrendered,

And they went off full of shame.

From this departure came the name

Paris, there’s nothing to hide about it,

75 Which was initially called Termes,

And which had a great renown.

Frollo was the name of the king

Whom Arthur vanquished with his English;

And the French are named after Frollo:

80 Initially, they were called Bailleis*.

Frollo, who was the lord of France,

Did not know what to do or to say;

He was very angry and upset:

He convocated the French to a council.

85 The barons persuaded him

To send a messenger

To Arthur; and so he promised him

That they could still be in good terms,

If he emptied the lands

90 Which he had been ill advised to seize;

But if he did not vacate the premises,

He would provoke him to combat,

One on one, and he wouldn’t add anything to it:

He made it known to him that those were his terms.

95 A blow was worth a blow,

And who could do more should do more.

Arthur replied: ‘God help me;

I will defend myself, if there’s someone to attack me;

Let the combat be scheduled for tomorrow,

100 In Paris, on the Île de la Cité, without fail.’

On this and on that side, they are assured

That they will fight the next day:

The winner would have possession

Of the forests, the towns and the clear lands.

105 Frollo proffered strong menaces,

He did not tire of swearing,

He completely dismembered the body of God,

Because Arthur came to do ill.

Arthur, who did not have a cold heart,

110 Cared very little about his threats;

He would have preferred him to stay in place

Rather than seeing God face to face.

Arthur, who felt a great urge,

Had himself prepared early morning,

115 Himself and his horse Labagu,

And he had himself transported to the Île.

Frollo slept until way after daybreak,

And when he finished sleeping,

He abruptly rose,

120 As if ants had bitten him.

The French, who were bored to death,

Asked him: ‘Will you get up today?’

He said ‘yeah’, and the French

Use garlic because of no one else than him.

125 Lying in bed, without getting up,

Frollo had himself prepared;

That is where the custom of the French comes from

To get dressed lying.

Before Frollo even got armed,

130 He fainted three times;

The French blamed him strongly,

But he told them: ‘Don’t be afraid;

This is due to my great courage:

Arthur is a dead man, to be sure.’

135 He then took everyone’s oath

That they would follow his lead.

He said, ‘Whatever happens to me,

Remember my good mores;

Ills will befall whoever fears God

140 If he remains loyal to another man.

Be excessively cruel,

Stingy lying perjurers;

Dedicate yourselves to hoard your riches,

And feel entitled to take the riches of others.

145 Arthur will want to give you some of his wealth,

Take it without returning the favor;

Go let yourselves be burned or hanged

Rather than seeing your riches being distributed.

Be good at playing dice,

150 And be good perjurers toward God,

Be braggarts at other people’s courts,

Do little and boast well.

Take up credit, don’t return anything;

Hate those who act well towards you;

155 Live more filthily than dogs,

And be a bunch of miscreants!’

Frollo established these laws in France;

The French kept them well,

And there was even worse than that,

160 But I won’t say more about it now.

Once he was armed, not without difficulty,

He called his chief servant and said:

‘Hurry up and do what you can

To make me have a bad breath.’

165 The servant fully understood what he wanted,

Because he was whining to get garlic,

So he offered him a full plate of it,

And the king ate plenty.

Frollo could not restrain himself

170 From letting go a wind caused by the garlic,

In order as much to upkeep the tradition

As to keep Arthur at a distance.

The French who were in front of him

Made him hasten to the Île.

175 They brought him there not without effort;

They left him and went back.

Frollo remained on his horse,

He saw Arthur coming up towards him, strong and imposing;

He felt nothing but anger

180 When he saw him getting close.

They both settled firmly in their stirrup,

So much so that, when they reached one another,

The two of them had their spears broken,

And their horses were forced onto their knees.

185 Frollo started proffering menaces

And Arthur brandished his steel sword;

When Frollo saw the blow coming,

He let himself fall on the ground

And said: ‘Please, Arthur, dear Sir;

190 I’m a coward, don’t kill me!’

Arthur could not restrain his anger,

And he killed Frollo, there’s nothing else to be said.

The French were frightened

When they saw their king knocked down.

195 They turned themselves in to Arthur,

So that he may do as he pleased with them.

And when Arthur, who wanted to have them all hanged,

Saw them surrender so humbly,

Did not want to act reprehensibly towards God;

200 Across France, he forbad

That anyone should be hanged.

He returned life and limbs to them.

And he dealt differently with them

For having resisted him.

205 Indeed, he enslaved them all,

And their descendants are still there;

There, Arthur bequeathed the legacy

Of serfdom upon the French.

The French went over to the Île,

210 And they carried their dead king away.

They threw him into a great fire

That they had lit to burn him.

Devils were on the look-out,

They brought fire from

215 Hell To light the stake

Which was made to burn Frollo.

This fire had very bad consequences,

Because there’s no doubt that it is the reason

Why, in remembrance, the inhabitants of France

220 Still burn in the fires of Hell.

Arthur took homage from the French,

And he established that

They should pay four deniers in annual dues

As part of their condition of serfs.

225 Numerous people remind them

Of that shameful subjection, but to no avail,

They do not worry too much about it,

Because they are unable to feel shame.

A Frenchman will not hold dear

230 Someone who acts to their benefit;

But the more he is shamed,

The more he will pride himself.

Because you know that, in time and place,

It will amount to no good to trust a Frenchman;

235 Seek him, you won’t find him;

Find him, you will run into trouble.

When the Frenchman wants to gather his

And wants to make a nice impression,

He orders two loaves of rye bread*

240 To give himself a worthy countenance.

Everyone individually gets

His rightfully due amount.

They remove the crust from the soft part,

And they solemnly gather all together

245 In order to make a soup in a pot;

There’s no better dish for it.

A big turmoil arouses when they try to retrieve the bread,

It sometimes becomes very ugly.

But they also do another kind of trick,

250 I don’t recoil from telling it to you:

So that they can retrieve the bread without there being mischief,

Everyone attaches his share of soup to a string.

Everyone holds a string in his hand

So as to dip his piece of bread;

255 And he is guaranteed to get soup

As long as the string is intact.

But when it snaps or gets untied,

So that the soup falls off the string,

Things get tense,

260 Because everyone claims it is his.

You would hear God being dismembered,

His belly, tongue, and throat would all be mentioned;

God couldn’t last very long

If he were to endure all that swearing.

265 There often is a lot of rivalry

And of blows handed out;

But they have a different ordinance

That maintains the level of craziness.

And they decide that

270 Whoever has the string has the greater right;

Whoever tied the soup

Claims he rightfully owns it.

The dispute and the commotion do not settle

Once he has proven it is his;

275 But rather his piece of bread is glared at,

Desired and coveted.

And when they put the pot on the hearth,

They sit down a cook next to it;

He would not have a good time

280 If he were to leave from there.

Great ills could befall him,

And he must behave and sit still,

Because he must hold the spoon

To keep the broth from boiling over.

285 If the broth was not cooking right,

It would be bad for the meat,

Because it would fall outside the pot

As soon as the broth would assail it.

They would really have lost the meat in the end

290 Because the cat would come in,

Or because either the mouse or the chick

Would take the whole piece.

They try hard to pull it out of the pot;

And when they actually do give it a try,

295 It’s impossible for them to get it

Unless they remove all the liquid first.

And when the liquid is removed,

Everyone watches with their mouth agape,

Everyone prays individually

300 That God may please help that the meat be found.

And when they find the little piece,

Be sure that they are really glad;

A whole hamlet has felt greater joy for it

Than if they witnessed the fire light up again overseas*.

305 They bring forth a knife,

And the meat is cut into small pieces,

Of a size similar

To what one uses for playing hopscotch.

If it so happens that the number of pieces is not right,

310 Dismay is limited,

Because they take out the dice:

He to whom God grants the highest number will get it.

They don’t even want to hold their napkins,

And that’s easily explainable,

315 Because whoever intends to eat up his meal

Can be overcome by fatigue.

Alfred says in his letter

That they eat everything that’s left over;

That’s a great pity for the poor,

320 And they call out this injustice.

On another side, the dogs complain

That when the bone leaves the table,

It reaches them so thin and so belatedly

That they deem it a fraud in any respect;

325 Either the Frenchman has eaten it entirely,

Or he will have chewed it so closely

That when he gets rid of it,

He will have given the dog nothing for its wait.

From there and for no other reason comes

330 That they have white teeth,

Because chewing bones makes their teeth

Healthy, and whitens them and cleans them.

When the Frenchman undergoes bloodletting,

He has a meal prepared

335 That no one should mention:

Except for Frenchmen, no one would know how to go about it,

Unless he is one of their sort.

Chicken throat stuffed with sorrel,

And it doesn’t come alone,

340 Because they add salt and flour,

And leach and onion and garlic,

And they make a thick laurel sauce, And [???]

                 *

345 Whoever eats with the French,

No matter the circumstances, will chip in;

Because a Frenchman will be content with walnuts

Or will have shallots

Brought to him

350 To give himself a real treat;

Because it can’t be the case

That they refrain from splitting up the bill

As long as they are at home;

But when they are not, they go about humming,

355 And fill themselves up at other people’s tables,

And blame them whenever they don’t let them.

And when they are in their homes,

The French are recognisable as such,

As stingy pieces of shit,

360 So much so that one should kill them or do worse.

André finishes his charter at this point,

And he sends it to Paris in haste;

Whoever reads it should stand firmly on their feet,

Because the French will strut like proud cocks.

365 And the charter was made in Petit Pont,

Where whoever reads it will get blows, stitches,

And have their head smashed

Unless they beware.

He will be quick and prompt

370 If he doesn’t jump into the Seine.

André takes leave, God bless!

But do you know what’s missing from his charter?

                

And he forgot to say,

375 Because he doesn’t want to speak ill

Or completely defeat the French.

‘Tirenlire’ is bread rubbed with garlic,

And with a fried garlic clove;

A Frenchman will not rejoice

380 Unless he gets some for breakfast.

It’s a light spread

That restores their whole body;

But cursed by God be the one

Who first invented this pairing!

385 André has finished his charter;

The English have guaranteed

That they found nothing in it

That isn’t the proven truth.

The Flemish have guaranteed it,

390 The Burgundians, the Lotharingians,

Which I would all enlist.

But let me tell you in truth

That the English, the Bretons, the Angevins,

Those from the Mans, the Gascons, the Poitevins,

395 Believe André is a good fortune teller,

Because he tells the truth all the time. This is the end.

Here ends ‘Alfred.’

These are the twelve peers of France.

The Duke of Burgundy.

400 The Duke of Normandy.

The Duke of Aquitaine.

The Count of Flanders.

The Count of Champagne.

The Count of Saint Giles.

405 The Archbishop of Reims.

The Archbishop of Langres.

The Bishop of Beauvais.

The Archbishop of Laon.

The Bishop of Noyon.

410 The Bishop of Châlons.

Critical Notes

Transcription

Line 11: escoles

Line 44: c’est

Line 51: voudreit

Line 52: sor sor

Line 58: este

Line 123: ‘Aol’ stands for ‘oïl’ (pronounced well), meaning yes. ‘Aol’ also means garlic; these lines contain an untranslatable pun that alludes to the French’s penchant for garlic expressed below.

Line 233: blasmet

Line 238: bieli

Line 246: corent

Line 251: bo…die

Line 257: desnooe

Line 289: l’aveient

Line 291: et ou

Line 308: donc

Line 335: donc

Line 347: al

Line 349: Fanee

Line 364: cresçant (Holden)

Translation

Line 4: Literally: ‘he does not value them the price of an almond’.

Line 80: Probably ‘Galleis’, Gauls. Holden 1973, n. in v. 80.

Line 239: Alternatively: ‘he orders some rye bread’.

Line 304: Allusion to the fire known to light up every Holy Saturday at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem.

Line 344: A line is missing in the original text.