The King and Commoner tradition within English medieval and early modern literature

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The King and Commoner tradition within English medieval and early modern literature

George Lovell

English teacher (online),

Trinity College London,

University College London, University of East Anglia,

Valencia (Spain)

Ловелл Джордж

викладач англійської мови (онлайн),

Триніті коледж Лондона, Університетський коледж Лондона, Університет Східної Англії, м. Валенсія (Іспанія)

Abstract

This paper explores the King and Commoner tradition within English ballads written during the Late Middle Ages through to the Early Modern Period. The tradition is defined by monarchs being either deliberately or mistakenly unrecognised by a member of the labouring class.

The author chronologically examines the way in which the fifteenth- century radicalism was gradually erased and how later examples of the motif became more conservative in nature, reinforcing rather than challenging the social hierarchy of medieval England. In particular, it highlights how the rare voice afforded to the commoner in the earlier ballads is absent during those of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. It is replaced by declarations of loyalty to the king.

Alongside this research, the author draws on similar examples from a great variety of sources, including religious writings, folktales, historical accounts and many more. The inclusion of these is not intended to suggest a causal relationship between the two but only to ground claims made about the ballads in a broader literary context.

The paper touches on the dissolution of the monasteries and state regulation of texts after the introduction of the printing press as causal factors. The information contained in this paper may be used for further research into these developments.

Keywords: King and Commoner literary tradition, Late Middle Ages, Early Modern Period, fifteenth-century radicalism, medieval England, Conservative shift within English ballads.

Анотація

Ловелл Джордж

Традиція перевдягання Короля в Простолюдина в англійській літературі Середньовіччя і Нового часу

У цій статті досліджується традиція перевдягання Короля в простого мешканця, що прослідковується в англійських баладах, написаних у період з пізнього Середньовіччя до початку Нового часу. Ця традиція полягає в тому, що монарх навмисне чи помилково не впізнається представниками робітничого класу.

Автор статті в хронологічній послідовності висвітлює те, як радикалізм п'ятнадцятого століття поступово зникає і як пізніші приклади цього мотиву стають більш консервативними за своєю природою, зміцнюючи соціальну ієрархію середньовічної Англії, а не кидаючи виклик їй. Зокрема, це дослідження допомагає унаочнити те, що рідкісний голос, наданий простим людям у ранніх баладах, відсутній у баладах шістнадцятого та сімнадцятого століть. На зміну йому приходять декларації про вірність королю.

Проводячи це дослідження, автор спирається на подібні приклади з великої різноманітності джерел, включаючи релігійні писання, народні перекази, історичні розповіді та багато іншого. Вибір джерел не має на меті припустити причинно-наслідковий зв'язок між ними, а лише обґрунтувати твердження автора щодо балад у ширшому літературному контексті.

У статті розглядаються розпуск монастирів і державний контроль над створенням текстів після впровадження друкарського верстата як причинні чинники. Інформацію, що міститься в цій розвідці, можна буде використати для подальших досліджень цих подій.

Ключові слова: літературна традиція перевдягання Короля в Простолюдина, пізнє Середньовіччя, початок Нового часу, радикалізм XV ст., середньовічна Англія, вибір на користь консервативності в баладах.

`Where, then, are the rags gone to?'; for the old man was now dressed in royal robes that glittered with jewels and gold embroidery, and wore a circlet of gold around his head.

(Carroll, 1889, Silvie and Bruno).

Then in a moment to my view The stranger started from disguise,

The tokens in his hands I knew,

The Saviour stood before mine eyes.

(Montgomery, 1845, The Stranger and His Friend, lines 49-52).

He tore the mask from his face and hurled it upon the ground, `You are right,' he cried; `I am the King. Why should I attempt to conceal it?' `Why, indeed?' murmured Holmes.

(Conan Doyle, 1902, A Scandal in Bohemia).

Politicians do not understand much; but politicians do understand politics ... Somehow, he had slipped in and started a campaign of private popularity before they even knew who he was. When once he was popular, they were helpless. How could they say: `Yes, he is popular, he is on the side of the people and the poor; the young men accept his leadership; but he is the King and therefore he must go'?

(Chesterton, 1937, The Unmentionable Man).

Yum-Yum: ... But why is your Highness

disguised? And what has your Highness done? And will you

Highness promise never to do it again?

(Gilbert & Sullivan, 2020, The Mikado, Act I).

The theme of gods, monarchs, tsars and, emperors going incognito is as extensive historically as it is universal. Throughout both fiction and nonfiction alike, an enormous wealth of stories and speculations have grown from the space evacuated by a leader's short-lived anonymity. The detachment of a king or queen's corporal body from its regal shell¹ has permitted authors to either emphasise or subvert contemporary social structures by imagining the unlikely encounter of that between a ruler and those whom they rule, if only momentarily. Likewise, this temporary suspension of hierarchical relations is precisely what encourages reflection upon them by the audience and as such, the potential of this literary tradition has long served a revolutionary as well as a conservative purpose.

The broad motif is characterised by figures of authority deliberately disguising themselves or merely not being recognised by others around them. Early European examples include Moschus' account of Zeus, the preeminent deity of the Greek Olympian pantheon, as well as that of Jupiter, the king of the gods, in Ovid's Metamorphoses.

To draw her eyes and her attention claim,

He hid his godhead and a bull became.

(Moschus, 1836, Europa, lines 92-93).

Diana's shape and habit strait he took,

Soften'd his brows, and smooth'd his awful look.

(Ovid, 1727, Metamorphoses, Book II, The Story of Calisto).

Similarly, the tradition has long existed in folktales, oral traditions, bibliographical accounts, operas² as well as religious texts³ around the world. In many instances, the sovereign briefly sheds their regalia as part of some previously concocted scheme. A solution is found that can only succeed if the king isn't himself.

МАРТА: Но он сказал ли, что бедная не знает ничего Про слепоту свою ... Смотрите, остерегайтесь также называть Отца ее монархом, королем... Он для нее богатый рыцарь Рене, не более... Так государь велел. [Martha: But has he told you that the poor girl is quite unaware that she is blind . You must take the utmost care not to call her father majesty, monarch or king. She believes him to be the rich knight Rene, and nothing more. These are the king's orders.]

(Tchaikovsky, 1891, Iolanta, Act. I., Scene IV).

Incognito is a device that has been utilised by Russian tsars⁴ in addition to various emperors of China⁵, Byzantium⁶ and the Holy Roman Empire⁷. Afghan shahs⁸ are recorded as having done the same as are various sultans of Baghdad⁹, the Malacca Sultanate¹⁰ as well as the Ottoman Empire¹¹. My research also identified instances of self-concealment performed by rulers of ancient Persia¹², Rashidun¹³ and Abbasid caliphs¹⁴ alike, Druk Gyalpos of Bhutan¹⁵, Ptolemaic queens¹⁶ as well as an extensive list of kings of Serbia¹⁷, Spain¹⁸, Prussia¹⁹ and Thailand²⁰ to name just a few.

It would be impossible to mention every account, true or otherwise, of a ruler's experience of their own anonymity, let alone those of their wider royal household of which there are countless more. Also, not only are there many examples of a monarch's incognito but numerous reasons for their doing so. In many cases, the king or queen rids themself of their identity, either to escape violence²¹ or, on occasion, to inflict it upon others²². At times, it is forced upon them through the loss of their kingdom²³ or is, in fact, a conscious choice--an effort to obtain more freedom than their position allows²⁴. Both the anticipation²⁵ of marriage as well as its own tedium²⁶ have also been a common reason for rulers to conceal themselves. Other reasons include a desire to visit other lands²⁷ but also a curiosity about popular opinion²⁸ and law enforcement²⁹ within their own. Hobbies, sport³⁰ and charity³¹ have inspired much the same.

`Do you recognize the emperor Leo?' `How can I recognize him,' he answered, `when I cannot remember seeing him? On the rare occasion when I looked on from afar...he seemed to me something marvelous and not a man.'

(Liudprand, 2007, Retribution, Book I, p. 51).

Of course, a king perceived as a private citizen is inevitably treated as such and, therefore, expected to behave accordingly. This very idea permeates medieval literature with a particular bent that often results in the king being mistaken for a commoner rather than planning to be so. Most examples in the English tradition were written in the form of a ballad³² and it is on these that this paper primarily focuses.

The King and Commoner motif within the English medieval chronicles can be found throughout the Middle Ages and into the Early Modern Period. The core elements of these stories remained essentially unchanged during this time yet many of the original and more radical aspects were either slowly removed or adapted. The reasons for this are varied but the general transformation is one of their gradual depoliticisation, slowly shifting from the transgression of hierarchical norms towards a reinforcement of them³³.

It would be unwise to pinpoint any particular original text that gave birth to the tradition. The trope of royal disguise is loosely applied to the story of Tristan and Iseult³⁴ yet perhaps the most relevant as well as the most well-known example is that of King Alfred burning the cakes whilst disguised as a peasant in order to avoid capture.

`What!' said the cowherd's wife, who scolded him well when she came back, and little thought she was scolding the King, `you will be ready enough to eat them by-and-by, and yet you cannot watch them, idle dog?'

(Dickens, 1885, A Child's History of England, p. 20).

Later examples from the thirteenth century include the romance Havelok the Dane³⁵, the Breton lai Sir Orfeo, as well as another poem titled King Horn.

Betere semede him to bere Helm on heved, sheld and spere,

Thanne to beye and selle ware - Allas, that he shal therwith fare!

(Herzman, Drake & Salisbury, 1997, Havelok the Dane, lines 1652-1655).

So long he hath the way y-nome To Winchester he is y-come,

That was his owhen cite;

Ac no man knewe that it was he.

(Laskaya & Salisbury, 1995, Sir Orfeo, lines 476-480).

Quath Horn, “So Crist me rede,

We schulle chaungi wede.

Have her clothes myne And tak me thi sclavyne.”

(Herzman, Drake & Salisbury, 1997, King Horn, lines 1061-1064).

It must be acknowledged that parts of the stories seem to echo aspects of their foreign predecessors. The cross-shaped `kynemark' on Havelok's shoulder, for instance, appears to borrow from the distinguishing scar on Odysseus' thigh in Homer's Odyssey³⁶. Nevertheless, it is unlikely that medieval writers either could or need have availed themselves of other popular historical parallels, especially given the sheer extensiveness of the motif within the English tradition³⁷. Many of the tales can be traced back as far as the early twelfth century in records produced at that time by the monasteries ranging from detailed bibliographies of kings, past and present, to what was essentially rumour, gossip and entertainment³⁸. This makes it particularly difficult to determine the boundary between what constitutes romance and reality, especially since both styles subsequently continued to borrow from one another.

Whilst these stories may possess characteristics unique to themselves, notably the individual king and the commoner's particular trade, each of them almost invariably contains five characteristic elements that together constitute a formula underlying their shared narrative. The first describes the king out hunting and how he loses his retinue. His being on his own in unfamiliar surroundings is what enables the crucial second component: the chance encounter with a commoner of whom he requires assistance, usually directions or a place to sleep.

God fellow, seyde `howr' king, off on thyng y the pray,

To Drayton Baset well y reyde, wyche ys the wey?

(Ritson, 1833, The King and the Barker, lines 17-18).

Be it due to the king wearing hunting attire³⁹ or the simple improbability of their meeting one another, the commoner fails to recognise the stranger for who he really is. He then invites him to a feast at his home and it is in this third stage where the defining interactions between the king and the commoner typically take place. The premise of the king's incognito provides an ideal opportunity not only for humour but also `a rare literary voice to the medieval commoner and his perspective⁴⁰'. During the feast, the king is expected to participate in the unfamiliar customs of ordinary people. The most common of these is some form of drinking game that involves the memorisation of only two words. This fourth development is critical to the later revelation of the king's true identity because the commoner, having warmed to his guest, discloses to him a secret vocabulary with which he exclusively toasts his close friends. The fifth and final section involves the reciprocal feast provided for the commoner in the king's court in order to thank them for their hospitality and often to reward them in some way.

The earliest complete record of a tale built around this five-piece structure was written by the priest and historian Gerald of Wales⁴¹ and it is this text that would best qualify as the single progenitor of the tradition if one were to be proposed. Its central figures are King Henry II and the abbot of a Cistercian monastery, whose private words when raising his glass are `pril' and `wril'. They subsequently replay the game by raising their glasses to one another in the king's court and, rather humorously, much to the abbot's embarrassment:

Compulsus sic de...abbas, rege cogente, quamquam verecundus in tanta audientia plurimum et invitus respondit regi, Wril. [The abbot, compelled by the king, though very much ashamed in front of such an audience, reluctantly answered the king, `Wril'].

(Cambrensis, 1873, Opera, p. 215).

Throughout the fifteenth century, the details of the later versions of this story were adapted by their respective authors to fit their own accounts. King Edward and the Shepherd, for example, tells of a commoner who describes being `so pylled with the king<sup>42</sup>' that he has lost his home. Unbeknownst to him, he addresses his complaint directly to the very man it concerns, Edward III. `And therefore woo is me,' he continues, `I hade catell; now have I non.' Despite his financial hardship, however, he provides his guest with great hospitality and they begin to drink using his personal nonsense words `passilodyon' and `berafrynde'.

Within the wider historical context of monarchs enjoying the status of a demigod within their respective kingdoms, these ballads are considerably daring in their political content. Needless to say, at no point in time was speaking ill of the king ever encouraged.

Harm not thy lord the king: abstain

From act and word that cause him pain;

For kings are children of the skies

Who walk this earth in men's disguise.

(Valmiki, 2008, Ramayana, Book IV, Canto XVIII, lines 161-164).

Yet the function of the ballads reached beyond merely providing the opportunity to confront the king with the discontents of his realm. `Heaven forbid,' says Pericles in Pericles, Prince of Tyre<sup>43</sup>, `that kings should let their ears hear their faults hid!' Generally, the king's incognito in the early ballads acts as a deus ex machina for the commoner, who, in being able to demonstrate the injustice he suffers directly to the king, is able to circumvent the corruption and bureaucracy that stands between them⁴⁴. Another fifteenth-century poem, The Regiment of Princes, was written for the purpose of advising the future king Henry V on the virtues and vices of a ruler in order that he might also develop what Shakespeare described as a `little touch of Harry⁴⁵'. In one section, it makes reference to Edward III's adventures amongst his people that ensured they were--or at least would be--delivered justice.

O worthy Kyng benigne, Edward the laste,

Thow haddist ofte in herte a drede impressid,

Which that thyn humble goost ful sore agaste; And to knowe if thow cursid were or blessid, Among the peple ofte hastow thee dressed Into contree in symple array allone To heere what men seide of thy persone. (Hoccleve, 1999, The Regiment Of Princes, lines 2556-2562).

However, this `unshakeable faith in the king's own justice was the most tragic of the misconceptions of the medieval peasantry⁴⁶' and is what most likely permitted the later dilution of the ballads' more political content. Here it is worth noting that in the earlier romance of Sir Isumbras, his path to becoming king was entirely predicated on his disguised life of penitence and experiences of working as a blacksmith⁴⁷. The moment when he forges his own armour is a complete reconstitution of who he had been previously since he has to construct his outer shell using skills associated with those of the labouring class. In this sense, the scene both physically and metaphorically binds the creation of a king to his unification with the life of a commoner⁴⁸.

A ryche bydale dede they bede,

Ryche and pore thedyr yede,

Welcome who so wolde.

They corownyd Ser Ysumbras ryght And made hym kyng, that noble knight,

For he was stout and bolde.

(Hudson, 2006, Sir Isumbras, lines 682-687).

Also, it is important to mention that the King and Commoner tradition belonged to the much broader motif of chivalric incognito in addition to other ballads⁴⁹. Knights in these stories, much like superheroes today, embodied not just great bravery, physical prowess and the resultant prestige but `the notion of hidden talents waiting for the world's recognition<sup>50</sup>'. Anonymity, therefore, provided all men with a tabula rasa on which their reputations were earned<sup>51</sup> rather than enhanced or hindered by one's status. Nowhere is this made clearer than in The Famous Chronicle of King Edward the First<sup>51</sup>, a sixteenth-century play in which Lluellen the Prince of Wales, disguised as Robin Hood, fights Edward I initially not having recognised him as such. Defeated, the prince rejects suggestions of the king's cowardice, stating that `his courage is like to the Lion, and were it not that rule and soveraigntie set us at jarre, I could love and honor the man for his valour⁵³.'

Returning to the tales of Edward III, he appears again as the incognito monarch in a similar story to those mentioned previously insofar as it exposes his unfamiliarity with the customs of ordinary people. Despite the hermit's clear instructions, he struggles to remember the rules of the drinking game and repeatedly gets them wrong.

The frere seyd `Fustybandyas!'

Than seyd the kyng `Alas, alas' --

Hys word it was awey.

`What, arte thou mad?' seyd the frere,

`Canst thou not sey `stryke pantener'?

(Shuffelton, 2008, King Edward and the Hermit, lines 348-352).

Another key development in the plot occurs when the hermit reveals his secret supply of poached `venyson isalt and fressch'. Here it's important to note that in many of the ballads, deer were specifically what the king had originally been hunting<sup>54</sup>. This is crucial to the way in which the stories function, emphasising loyalty to the king but not necessarily adherence to laws enforced on his behalf<sup>55</sup>. The commoner's provision of poached venison is more than a mere revelation of his willingness to act illegally but, in fact, shows `aspects of himself that he would really prefer to keep hidden from authority⁵⁶.' In short, the king's incognito exposes the concealed identities of the peasantry as well.

The combination of hunting for venison and disguise initially appears a rather minor trope yet its depiction in Budapest's Matthias Fountain⁵⁷, for instance, provides strong evidence of the relationship's universality. Inspired by a tragic romance concerning the rule of Mattias Corvinus during the fifteenth- century, it contains two deer, one in the form of a stag killed by the king, and the other, a more diminutive doe, being fed by Szep Ilonka, a beautiful peasant girl with whom the king fell in love one day when hunting. According to the legend, she ultimately died of a broken heart upon learning of his true identity and as a consequence, the impossibility of their mutual love.

In the seventh fit of A Gest of Robyn Hode, the king very deliberately disguises himself in `monkes wede' after noticing a considerable decline in the deer population when he arrives in Lancashire.

There our kynge was wont to se

Herdes many one,

He coud unneth fynde one dere.

(Knight & Ohlgren, 1997, A Gest of Robyn Hode, lines 1429-1431).

In Matteo Bandello's Italian novella about the Moroccan King Mansor and the fisherman⁵⁸, an unexpected storm is what causes the king to lose his way. The same is also true in the French comedy La Partie de chasse de Henri IV., albeit with a slight variation on this motif. Midway through the play, the king, rather than hunting deer before his encounter with a commoner, is mistaken for one himself by two poachers whilst he sleeps in the forest. `Oui, c'est un Biche. Il me semble l'avoir entendue tomber [Yes, it's a doe. I think I heard it fall]' one of them declares. Upon hearing him speak and thus having been alerted not specifically to his presence but at least that of another human, they both immediately flee, leaving the king crying after them.

Eh! Messieurs! .... Messieurs! Bon! ils sont deja bien loin..., ils auraient pu me tirer d'ici: & me voila tout aussi avance que je l'etais. [Gentlemen! ... Gentlemen! Well, they're far away now., They could have gotten me out of here: and here I am, just as advanced as I already was.]

(Colle, 1766, La partie de chasse de Henri IV, Act I, Scene X).

In the English ballads, however, such as The Taill of Rauf Coilyear, the hunting of deer is the plot device most commonly employed in order that the king be led away from his company. The relationship between the king's hunting of deer and the commoner's covert supply of meat draws a line of officialdom between the two feasts. That provided by the commoner is much more transgressive in nature, with poached venison being the obvious signifier.

Venison and fowls were plenty there,

With fish out of the river:

King Richard swore, on sea or shore,

He neer was feasted better.

(Child, 1882-1889, The King's Disguise, and Friendship with Robin Hood, lines 80-84).

Another of the original radicals is John the Reeve, a poem about Edward I's (Longshanks), disguised as `the queenes cheefe fawconer<sup>59</sup>'. Again, the same pattern occurs. The commoner initially declares, `I trow penniless' but later serves fine wine in silver cups, a boar's head, capons, woodcock, and venison on the condition he `shalt never John Reeve bettell / Unto Edward our kinge.' In this story, the king is accompanied by a bishop and an earl and when they speak amongst themselves in Latin, they are admonished by their host and told, `Speake English, everyche one / Or else sitt still, in the devilles name.' He goes on to accuse them of bad manners, explaining that holding private conversations in Latin amongst laymen is what he terms `nought of curteseye.' Despite getting kicked at one point by the animated reeve, the king enjoys the night regardless.

John hitt the king over the shinnes

With a payre of new clowted shoone.

Sith King Edward was mad a knight

Had he never soe merry a night.

(Furrow, 2013, John the Reeve, lines 551554).

A disguised Charlemagne suffers analogous misfortunes when, in another poem, his host hits him to the floor for repeatedly refusing to sit at the head of the table.

`Now is twyse,' said the carll, `me think thow hes forget!'

He leit gyrd to the King, withoutin ony mair,

And hit him under the eir with his richt hand.

(Lupack, 1990, The Taill of Rauf Coilyear, lines 148-150).

The commoner's feast is juxtaposed with the officialdom typified by that of the king, usually set in his palace several days after the first. The king's feast serves two fundamental purposes. The first is to reassert his authority and end the interruption of hierarchy that has gone before. This should not be interpreted as a show of dominance or an act of recrimination against the commoner, but a natural remediation of the temporary carnival that had taken place during his incognito. Its second function is to absorb the commoner, having previously expressed his discontents, into the wider societal structure by means of having him `rewarded by the king with wealth and a position in court⁶⁰' contrary to the punishment he had expected to receive.

At this point, it's crucial to call attention to how the early medieval tradition elicited sympathy and respect for the commoner insomuch as he defended his way of life whilst at the same time, sharing it with those of seemingly higher status. The humour contained within them is aimed equally at king and commoner alike whilst never bordering on ridicule. Neither the commoner's occasional mistreatment of his guest nor his discomfort at the royal court makes him out to be a fool, if only somewhat eccentric. Many of these qualities were partially or even entirely removed in the later ballads.

The sixteenth century saw these stories modified and remediated in a manner that left them markedly detached from their origins. At this point in history, the House of Tudor had to contend with the introduction of the printing press and did so by exerting control over what was published in the form of direct censorship and the dissolution of the monasteries. Each time the ballads began to flourish, another edict was published and statute passed in order to contain their threatening popularity⁶¹. Perhaps the strongest evidence of the conservatism of later ballads such as this comes not from their content but rather their audience. So watered-down was the political content that there are accounts of the Tudor monarchs themselves either enjoying minstrel performances of them, in the case of Elizabeth I⁶², or in that of her father Henry VIII, re-enacting the ballads themselves. On one occasion, he imitated

Richard I's (Lionheart) feasts with Robin Hood⁶³, a figure once described as providing a yeoman audience with a yeoman hero⁶⁴. It is clear from this that even the most well-known example of English outlaw tradition had, over time, seen its political edges rounded off to a considerable degree.

Much of the standard narrative remained in place although reoriented away from its subversive potential. A detailed study into this trend has highlighted three ballads in particular that best represent this general change⁶⁵. One of the key differences is the way in which the commoners are identified. Whereas a commoner's name is specifically mentioned in all but one of the original stories I have mentioned that were published during the fifteenth century⁶⁶, they are conspicuously absent in the three later accounts written over the course of the following one hundred years. Instead, the commoners are exclusively referred to by their profession, and by the same token, their standing within wider society. Crucially, it is also indicative of the partial erasure of their identities, since their names would have divulged certain information from which important aspects of their character could be deduced by a medieval audience. The incognito king, however, often invented a name that would be expected of someone with his feigned profession⁶⁷. Instead, the commoners are presented as caricatures of themselves, with authors prioritising the comedic dimension of their work over the political, and often at their expense. Initial descriptions of commoners include `a rude miller<sup>68</sup>' and in King Alfred and the Shepherd, the wife of the latter is introduced as a `toothless Dame / As mumbleth on brown Bread⁶⁹'.

Comedy is an essential ingredient in many of the ballads and on many occasions was included solely for its own sake; One Bohemian writer tells the story of how when a disguised Kaiser Maximilian II encountered a charcoal-burner, for instance, the man found his name too difficult and mistakenly referred to him as `Herr Marzipan⁷⁰'. In these later ballads, the focus of humour shifts away from the nuances of the king and commoner's interactions that were entirely premised on the former's incognito, towards a style somewhat less refined.

Quoth our king gentlye, `how should I forgot thee?

Thou wast my owne bed-fellowe, well it I wot.'

`Yea, sir,' quoth Richard, `and by the same token,

Thou with thy farting didst make the bed hot'

`Thou whore-son unhappy knave,' then quoth the knight,

`Speak cleanly to our king, or else go sh***!'

(Percy, 1839, The King and the Miller of Mansfield, lines 187-192).

In this ballad, the poached venison is still included but loses some of its political connotations since the commoner makes no mention of his financial hardship. This is especially true in the latest of the three stories, King Henry VIII and the Abbot of Reading, in which the king stays with his host not out of genuine need but only that of entertainment. The abbot provides a variety of dishes, none of which are specified either as venison or having been illegally obtained. Instead, the

king eats `heartily of a Loyn of Beef⁷¹' before returning to his company in Windsor Forest to hunt deer.

The absence of the commoner's personal discontents is perhaps most conspicuous in the ballad of King James and the Tinker because when invited to speak about his life, he fails to do so.

As they were a-drinking the King pleased to say,

'What news, honest fellow? come tell me, I pray?'

'There's nothing of news, beyond that I hear

The King's on the border a-chasing the deer.

(Ford, 2007, King James and the Tinker, lines 21-24).

Its repeated use within the plays of William Shakespeare⁷² is evidence of just how well-established the King and Commoner trope already was by the late sixteenth century⁷³ and as such, many of the stories were written in a way that acknowledged not only the audience's familiarity with the tradition but that of the characters in the stories themselves.

God speed, good Shepherd, quoth the King,

I come to be thy Guest,

To taste of thy good Victual here,

And drink that's of the best⁷⁴.

(Philips, 1723, King Alfred and the Shepherd, lines 29-32).

The Royal Frolick similarly references the King and Commoner motif in advance of its own employment of it. It tells the account of William Ill's abandonment of the high road `for merriment sake<sup>75</sup>' and drinking beer with a local farmer. Prior to doing so, it mentions old stories `of Jocular things, / the which has been acted by Soveraign Kings' as well as `happy days, when Great Caesars would be / Familiar with Subjects of e'ry degree.'

This was the way in which the tradition could be used to serve the reputation of the monarch. Their general popularity stood to benefit if he or she were seen to be of the people. James V of Scotland, for instance, was otherwise known as the `King of the Commons', a consequence of his purported travels around Scotland, as his father James IV was also rumoured to have done⁷⁶, disguised as a gudeman⁷⁷. He is traditionally said to have been the author, or at least the protagonist, of such accounts as The Jolly

Beggar and The Gaberlunzie Man that depict scenes of a nobleman mingling amongst the people⁷⁸.

`A conservative ideology that emphasises social difference<sup>79</sup>', however, is what defines the stories published from the seventeenth century onwards. The king proves his ability to operate between these social differences unnoticed although the texts, nonetheless, highlight what those differences are. They do so, principally, by drawing attention to various status symbols, such as replacement of his crown for a Monmouth cap<sup>80</sup> or the consumption of beer by a monarch known for his love of champagne<sup>81</sup>. Other songs at this time emphasised the various connotations that different types of alcohol had with one's position in society<sup>82</sup>. `Wee'll drink the King's good Health in Wine / in Ale the Parliaments⁸³', one reads. These differences are mentioned in the early ballads as well but they are, of course, accompanied by the far more unconvincing efforts of the king to cross the line between them. With this removed, his anonymity, much like the chivalric incognito of a medieval knight, `invites rather than resists public scrutiny⁸⁴' and thus gains him the favour of the audience via means inaccessible to him whilst recognised as king. The prototypical example of this is Lancelot's self-concealment during the tournament of the king's court within the Arthurian legends^{85, 86} although kings James IV of Scotland⁸⁷, Henry VIII⁸⁸ and Edward III⁸⁹ of England, as well as Charles IV of Bohemia⁹⁰ are all said to have done likewise.

The ballads, therefore, simultaneously accentuate these social differences whilst at the same time tempering their revolutionary provocations. Their accentuation of them tends to portray the commoner in a poor light whereas the king's ability to successfully immerse himself amongst his subjects depicts him far more favourably. Dramatists took full advantage of this idea in order to confer a sense that the king too could play the role of an ordinary man in private and the grievances people endured were not the consequence of the monarch's personal qualities but rather the obfuscation of them by ceremony, tradition and hierarchy⁹¹. `I am unknown,' says Prince Edward, later Edward I (Longshanks) in the Elizabethan stage play Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay, `not taken for the prince⁹².'

Furthermore, the alleged commonality of the aforementioned kings James IV and James V was, however, only one side of the coin, the other being the unremitting loyalty of the people to them. A play written at the very end of the sixteenth century, George- a-Greene: The Pinner of Wakefield, premises the entire disguise narrative of King Edward and King James, neither of whom are specified, on their curiosity to meet the key man responsible for resisting a rebellion against the Crown.

Warwick. May it please your grace, I know the man too well.

K. Edw. Too well! why so, Warwick?

Warwick. For once he swinged me till my bones did ache.

K. Edw. Why, dares he strike an earl?

Warwick. An earl, my lord! nay, he will strike a king,

Be it not King Edward.

(Lukacs, 2021, George-a-Greene, Act IV, Scene I).

They do so and when George-a-Greene spots them walking through Bradford, refers to them as `Base-minded peasants, worthless to be men!<sup>93</sup>' Towards the end of the comedy, King Edward attempts to knight George-a-Green for his loyalty, causing the yeoman to reply, `Let me live and die a yeoman still: / So was my father, so must live his son⁹⁴', going on to explain that there is `more credit to men of base degree, / to do great deeds, than men of dignity<sup>95</sup>'. This is a significant alteration to the previous conclusion of the commoner being rewarded. This alteration of the stories is principally important because it is the decision of George-a-Greene himself, one that he justifies through the hereditary principle and in doing so, its application to the rest of society. This includes, of course, the monarchy. Echoes of much of this are used in another of the much later ballads titled The King's Disguise, and Friendship with Robin Hood. In it, Richard I and his men dress as monks to seek out Robin Hood who, in their presence, raises a glass of ale and declares, `Here's a health unto the king⁹⁶.'

`You Subjects of England come listen a while, / Here is a new ditty may make you to smile.' These are the two opening lines to The Loyal Forrister, another of the later ballads that affirms the status of the king, again in this case William III⁹⁷. By not having the king suffer any discomfort comparable to that of the commoner, the balance of its self-declared comedy is also tilted in his favour. Moreover, the absence of the king's social faux-pas when incognito not only eliminates any mention of his own discomfort but also considerably amplifies the commoner's fear of retributive punishment.

With that the bold keeper he fell on his knees, a trembling fear his spirits did seize,

The picture of death too appeard in his face, He knew not at first that the King was in place.

(The Loyal Forrister, 1683-1716, lines 3336).

Another of the social differences underscored in several of the later stories is that between city and countryside. The principal factor behind this was the comparatively rapid urbanisation that took place in England in the seventeenth century, during which the proportion of the population living in London more than doubled and that of smaller urban centres grew at a rate `more than four times that of the national aggregate<sup>98</sup>. The story of The King and the Cobbler<sup>99</sup>, therefore, doesn't take place in a forest during a hunt but instead Whitehall and the Strand. Here, the nameless commoner's feast doesn't break the laws of the king but only those of his wife Joan. The story paints her as a pantomime nuisance that `began to grumble¹⁰⁰' about their drinking and `was loath to loose so much time from [her husband's] work' when the cobbler is called to the king's palace. When he visits, he once again drinks, sings and dances. This is seen purely as a source of entertainment and almost a cartoonish parody of a commoner, typifying the supposed authentic vitality of his social class that the king and his knights greatly appreciate.

In one of the stories that does take place in `dale and downe¹⁰¹', King Edward the Fourth and the Tanner of Tamworth, the veracity of the king is still disputed precisely because of this very setting. It seems highly unlikely that both Edward IV--who rarely travelled to the more distant parts of his kingdom¹⁰²--and Tamworth could both be included in an accurate telling of the story. This is because the king's journeys north predominantly occurred during periods of crisis and his most probable visit would have taken place prior to him taking the throne¹⁰³. Instead, if the story did indeed take place in Tamworth, then given his reported love of the countryside¹⁰⁴, hunting and appearing generous in public¹⁰⁵, Henry II, the original incognito king in the medieval tradition, would seem a much more likely candidate. In any case, the story turns the tables of the slapstick-esque comedy on the commoner who, having traded his mare for the king's horse, is almost immediately thrown to the ground.

At length the tanner came tumbling downe;

His necke he had well-nye brast.

`Take thy horse again with a vengeance,' he sayd,

`With mee he shall not byde.'

(Percy, 1858, King Edward the Fourth and the Tanner of Tamworth, lines 131-134).

The ballad seems to have been studied in further detail as a result of its particular longevity. It was a rewrite of its predecessor The King and the Barker and also itself the inspiration of a later work titled Edward IV, a play that twice makes use of his incognito. The first is when he attempts to woo his future mistress Jane Shore. She rejects the possibility of them having previously spoken because of her `attendance on his majesty<sup>106</sup>' at that precise moment. `I'll gage my hand unto your hand of that,' he replies. `Look well upon me.' The second time that he conceals himself is in order to appear as his own butler. He does so during his encounter with the tanner, whose opinions of the king he wishes to know. The exclusion of the commoner's political voice is made obvious here on two occasions. When asked what he thinks about Edward IV, the tanner praises him because he is `a frank franion, a merry companion, and loves a wench well¹⁰⁷', emphasising their mutual love of a `fair lass'. This is all in spite of the king's provocations and leading questions that encourage him to respond less favourably. Importantly, he also declines to say who he believes is the true king, arguing that `If it be Harry, I can say, “Well fare, Lancaster.” If it be Edward, I can sing, “York, York, for my money¹⁰⁸.”' As such, he views both options positively.

By referring to English literature produced between the fifteenth and seventeenth centuries, principally in England but also Scotland and further afield, this paper has demonstrated the creeping conservatism of how the motif was used over the period. It has identified at least three key ways in which authors at this time removed the political radicalism of the earlier ballads. Firstly, the commoner's voice, particularly concerning his situation, was completely removed and replaced with declarations and demonstrations of loyalty to the king. Secondly, the use of humour shifts in favour of the monarch by having him successfully embrace his momentary disguise and the commoner exclusively suffer misfortunes as a result of their encounter. Lastly, it caricatures the commoner whilst enabling the king to gain his honour much like knights in the broader tradition of chivalric incognito. Further research is recommended into the causes of these changes and linking the ballads more directly to the wider political context of their time.

Comments

tradition of dressing up the king english ballad

1 Keen (1961) distinguishes between the king's `corporal body' underneath a `shell of regality' and the eternal `mystic body' of his position. He argues that the complexity of uniting the human and the divine was beyond the understanding of both the minstrels who sang the ballads as well as their audience, leading them to see the king as `the ultimate repository of justice' rather than being contrary to it.

2 I refer here to Boieldieu's Le Calife de Bagdad (Fuller, 2020) in which the king becomes a commoner, Tchaikovsky's (1891) Iolanta, and Bizet's (1863) Les Pecheurs de Perles in which a commoner, a fisherman, is made king, later unrecognised.

3 The Bava Batra tractate in the Talmud, I use the Steinsaltz (2016) translation, tells of King Herod blinding a sage, the rest of whom he had murdered, and approaching him unidentified to test his honest opinion of him. Feintuch (2011) notes how this expresses the king's genuine doubts about his rule. Christian teachings, such as those recounted by Hollenbach (2013) brand Jesus of Nazareth as `the commoner king'. Other biblical texts mention various Israelite kings going in disguise, for instance Saul (King James Bible, 1814, 1 Sam. 28:8-12), Ahab (King James Bible, 1814, 1 Kings. 22:29-30), and Josiah (King James Bible, 1814, 2 Chron. 35:20-24). Also, the Ramayana (Valmiki, 1998, 1:48:17-18) relates the king of the gods Indra's deception of Ahalya by altering his appearance to that of her husband. Krong Reap, in the Cambodian epic poem Reamker, based on the Ramayana, is said to have disguised himself in order to trick Neang Seda, known in the Hindu original as Sita, the wife of Rama (Cultural festival: Themes & components, n.d.). The Norse god Odin also disguised himself as ferryman or a servant (Herzman, Drake & Salisbury, 1997).

4 Here I refer to the tale of The Soldier and the Tsar in the Forest by Afanasyev (1916) in which a soldier, having deserted the army, regains his honour by unknowingly demonstrating his valour in front a disguised tsar. Historically, the example of the Grand Embassy of Peter I also fits since during his visits to England and The Netherlands, he adopted a pseudonym for himself whilst working as a carpenter (StarMediaEN, 2022). When staying at the Elizabethan mansion Sayes Court, he and his party wrecked the house as well as its gardens, including pushing one another in wheelbarrows into the primly kept hedges (Peter the Great trashed here, 2020).

5 The Chinese term describes emperors disguising themselves as civilians to inspect the situation of their people (Baidu, 2022). The two-finger kowtow tradition in Chinese tea culture is said to have come from a time when the emperor Qianlong was in disguise at a tea house, filled the cup of his servant who, not being able to kowtow fully as he would have usually done since it would have given away the identity of the emperor, tapped two bent fingers on the table as an impromptu substitute (Traditional Chinese tea etiquette, 2022). Zhangyu (2014) writes about a series of Qing dynasty portraits depicts the emperor Yongzheng performing the jobs of ordinary people.

6 Liudprand (2007) tells a story of the emperor Leo VI (the Wise) being arrested whilst disguised and subsequently punishing those who failed to punish him. The emperor Theophilos, writes Cartwright (2018), walked around the capital city to better understand the lives of his people, particularly the price of goods.

7 Joseph II often travelled incognito not to conceal his identity but due to his dislike of ceremony, writes Kulcsar (2014).

8 There is the Jewish folktale The Wooden Sword told by Ann Stampler (2012) about the ruler Shah Abbis, incognito, testing the sincerity of one of his subjects after he was surprised to see how happy he was in spite of his poverty.

9 In Biro & Malleson's (1940) historical fantasy film The Thief of Bagdad, the sultan is tricked into disguising himself amongst commoners in order to be accused of lunacy when attempting to reclaim his position.

10 The Malay Annals (Brown, 1952) recount how Sultan Alauddin went undercover having heard his city was rife with thieves and subsequently confronted them at night.

11 Murad IV would visit taverns in what's now Istanbul and behead anyone he that caught smoking tobacco (Davis, 1922).

12 The Story of Two Sisters Who Were Jealous of Their Younger Sister translated by Andrew Lang (2021) is a tale from One Thousand and One Nights collection of Middle Eastern folk stories. In it, Sultan Kosrouschah falls in love with the youngest of three sisters whilst roaming the city undercover.

13 Edward Gibbon (1836) praises the `abstinence and humility' of the second Rashidun caliph 'Umar ibn al-Khattab, recording how he wore the clothes of the poor and was found `asleep among the beggars on the steps of the mosque of Medina.'

14 The account of the fifth Abbasid caliph Haroun al-Rashid disguising himself amongst the Baghdadi populace is widely told. Chinua Achebe (1987) references it in his essay The Trouble with Nigeria to highlight how past leaders strived to understand the lives of their citizenry.

15 Powdyel (2021) claims the Jigme Dorji Wangchuck, the founder of Modern Bhutan, would use incognito to learn of the hardships of his people.

16 Gregory's (1999) fictional diary entries of Cleopatra VII include details of her mingling amongst ordinary people and taking advantage of the historically accurate fact she could speak Egyptian.

17 Vivian (1904) outlines the early education of the last Serbian king Peter I, playing in the gutter amongst peasant children and later during his reign, associating with his subjects. This includes one comical story of him writing on a school's blackboard, `King Peter has been here.'

18 Redondo (2016) notes the urban myths about Juan Carlos I, concealed by his helmet, riding motorbikes at night unnoticed.

19 Frederick II of Prussia was fond of visiting Strasbourg incognito both for business and pleasure (Gemeinhardt, 2016).

20 Stickings (2019) writes about how King Rama X of Thailand was photographed cycling incognito in Switzerland shortly after his coronation.

21 King Louis XVI, according to Cavendish (2016) attempted to flee Paris disguised as a valet before his face was recognised as the same as that printed on the national currency. Also, after his defeat at Battle of Worcester, Charles II was forced to dress as a wood-cutter in order to escape the country (Ravenscroft, 2018). The collection of Old Norse sagas Heimskringla by the poet Snorri Sturluson (2015) recounts an incognito King Sweyn being castigated by a housewife for using the middle of a communal towel when hiding after a heavy defeat in battle.

22 Hansley (2018) tells of the Emperor Nero's disguised criminality on the streets of Rome, stories that originate from the annals of Tacitus (1872, 13:25). Codrus, the semi-mythical king of Athens, dressed as a beggar and killed enemy soldiers when collecting firewood (Lycurgus, 2019). The Mahabharata (1883-1896, Book III, Section CCCXIII) mentions the various disguises of Indra, Vishnu, and Hari and how they concealed themselves to defeat their enemies. The Iranian poet Firdausi (1886) describes Rustem, the son of King Zal, dressing as a salt-merchant to gain entry to an enemy fort, the chief of which he kills. Similar stories of Alexander the Great can be found in the Persian medieval romance Iskandarnamah (1978).