TROPOLOGY UBRARY Anthropology^ Library Given in memory of WALTER BUCHANAN CLINE 1904-1952 SOCIAL LIFE IN BRITAIN FROM THE CONQUEST TO THE REFORMATION CAMBRIDGE UNIV^ERSITY PRESS C. F. CLAY, Manager LONDON : Fetter Lane, E.C. 4. NEW YORK.: G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS BOMBAY, CALCUTTA, MADRAS: MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd. TORONTO: J. M. DENT AND SONS, Ltd. TOKYO: THE MARUZEN-KABUSHIK.I-KAISHA All rights reserved f'. /~y- la Ml immcncm Ifiumenioar iiasmrtic liptastnr rfattrma qnnitflitnur (iimfanainalncnnt contiutkim ^nrotra mm. i ~e ^ animammnnDAmclhiaiDrcr m ^^mmcllfq[tlc^uo« i^^^^^g^ ft nittnt tommt crmpranimam mmmfamummc6if4prniiamm4>i ^ fft-mmoitrciuimctnozfttmi mmftmo amnn qme wfttrUmuT* I^UwiauimgrmmimcoMuAVoper lutHtuBcft-aftiwicocuutsmaidi uctHUitnfomtifsinitmtoetncos* LEAF OF AN ENGLISH BOOK OF HOURS SOCIAL LIFE IN BRITAIN FROM THE CONQUEST TO THE REFORMATION COMPILED BY G. G. COULTON, M.A. St Catharine's College, Cambridge Cambridge : at the University Press 1918 First Edition 1918 Reprinted 1918 WTHSOPOLOGY Add*! 'gift DA 185 Ofc ANTMf^OPOLOQY PREFACE THOUGH this book is primarily intended to supply that background of social history which is necessary to a sympathetic comprehension of our own literature in the Middle Ages, it is hoped that it may appeal also to the general public ; and that, in these extracts, our forefathers may be found speak- ing for themselves on all the main questions which interest intelligent people to-day. A large proportion are translated (and many for the first time) from Latin or Old French. The rest are presented un- modernized (though sometimes, as the reader is warned, with some abridgment) in their medieval garb. To this end the compiler has made specially free use of such old translations as those of Trevisa, Lord Berners, and the Alphabet of Tales. Even where the episode was given more fully by a first-rate chronicler like Matthew Paris, it seemed preferable to repro- duce it in Trevisa's naive rendering of Higden's compilation ; since here we have the actual English that Chaucer heard. A very few of these illustrations have been chosen from other countries and from earlier or later dates. This, however, is only in cases where the thing described, though it happens to be recorded most clearly in such a foreign document, is also characteristic of medieval England, and could be inferred, though more laboriously, from genuine English sources. The story of Froissart's youth, for instance, may be applied without much modification to Chaucer and many others among our own youth at that day. ivi8.3SO();5 vi Preface The compiler has attempted, so far as space would permit, to obtain a cumulative effect by multiplying testimonies on important points. For the sake of readers who may think such repetitions superfluous, and who may prefer to take a bird's-eye view of medieval history, the more important passages have been distinguished by an asterisk in the Table of Contents. His hearty thanks are due to the following who have kindly permitted him to print copyright material : to the Committee of the Guildhall Library for the very numerous extracts from Riley's Memorials of London, to the Early English Text Society for a still more liberal use of their publications ; to Messrs Constable and Co. for the extracts from Arbers Re- prints (Section IV. No. i8 and V. 12), and from the Paston Letters (III. 22, Xll. 4, 11), and to Dr R. L. Poole for an extract originally published in The English Historical Review (V. 9). Finally, he is indebted for criticisms and suggestions to Sir A. T. Ouiller-Couch, Prof H. M. Chadwick, Dr H. F. Stewart, and above all to Mr A. R. Waller, whose help has been ungrudging and invaluable. G. G. C. Great Shei.ford, Nov. IT, 1917- FRONTISPIECE The frontispiece is a photogravure 'of a leaf of a Book of Hours, preserved in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge. Tlie following description of it is taken from A Descriptive Catalogue of the Manuscripts in the Fitzwilliam Museum... by Montague Rhodes James, Cambridge, 1895, pp. 398, 9. 191. Fragments (English). i. Two single leaves, 9^ x 6, 21 lines to a page. Cent, xiii (1280). English work. From the Lawrence sale; presented by S. Sandars, M.A., Trinity College, in 1S92. Verso. Bordered. A large initial, with punctured gold ground, of ihe Cnici- fixion ; the Cross is green ; there are three nails. On L. is the Virgin with hands outspread, on R. S. John with book, and hands to face. On the top of the Ixjrder, a deer, a bear with muzzle, and a hedgehog. On L. a beast in a burrow, and a jay, and a monkey riding a fox, face to tail, and drumming. At bottom is a lady praying, in a dress blazoned with her arms, then a lion fighting a dragon under a tree, a male head on two legs and a large female head, the mouth covered. On >?., a shield, gules a cross engrailed or: a knight in mail and blazoned surcoat, praying: a second shield, of his arms, barry of six argent and azjire, on a bend dexter gules bearing three mullets of five points or, for (jrey: above this i.= a third shield, of the lady's, cheeky or and azure, a bend dexter gtiles with three lioncels argent (Clifford of Frampton). Text. Domine ne in furore, to ver. 7. All this work is very fine.... The volume to v.hich this belonged was sold at the Foun- taine sale at Messrs Christie's in 1894, to Mr William Morris, and at his death passed into the possession of the Fitzwilliam Museum. It is of early date for a book of private devotion, not being a Psalter. Writing and decoration are of the best English sort. TABLE OF CONTENTS * {For the signification of the asterisks, see Preface) SECTION I Land and Folk PAGE *1 Merry England i *2 Scotland 8 *3 Ireland lo *4 Wales 17 5 Flanders 20 • "8 The Effects of the Conquest 20 7 Norman Manners 23 8 Stephen's Misrule 23 *9 The Law of Englishry 25 10 The Cornish Foreigner . . . . . . 26 11 The Wild West 27 *12 The English Tongue 28 13 English Tails 28 *(rt) 28 : *{Jb) 29 14 English Drink 29 15 An Englishman's Privileges 30 *(a)3i: *{b)yi: *(f) 32 *16 As Others See Us . . . . . . . 37 17 England in Civil War 42 SECTION II Birth and Nurture *1 The Anatomy of Childhood 45 *2 The Father 47 3 Infant Damnation 47 *4 Baptismal Scenes 50 5 Proofs of Age 5^ • 6 Decayed Schools 53 *7 An Old English School 54 • *8 The Schoolmaster's Attributes . . . . 55 9 Co-Education 5^ 10 The Dangers of Grammar 56 *(a), *(b\ *(.-) 57 11 University Origins 58 Table of Contents IX PAGE 12 The Model Student 59 *13 The Poor Scholar 6i *(a) 6i : *{b) 62 14 Hard Work 62 *15 Bible Education 62 16 Black Sheep 64 *17 University Discipline 64 18 Cambridge Riots 66 19 Forbidden University Sports 67 (a) 67: W, W68: (rt'), (e-), (/) 69 *20 Life in a Royal College 69 21 A College Scrutiny n (a)77: W78: W79 *22 A Day of Eton Life in 1530 8l 23 University Reform 82 24 University Decay 83 *25 Froissart's Youth 84 *26 The Model Boy (Stans Puer ad Mensam) . . 90 27 School Verses 93 *{a^ 93: *(/;) 94 *28 Wardship 94 29 University Expenses '95 30 Spoiled Children 95 *31 As Others See Us 96 32 Looking Back on the Middle Ages .... 97 *(<.), *(^) 97: *(^)98 SECTION III Authors, Scribes and Readers 1 Monastic Studies , *(a) 100: *{J>) loi 100 2 Writers' Pay . lOI *3 A Writer's Bond 102 4 The Writer's Pains . *(«), *w - 103 5 Hireling Writers . 104 6 Chaucer's Copyist . 105 7 A Scrivener's Gild . . 105 8 Literary Life in the Cloister .... 106 (a) 106: {b) 107: (<:) 109: *(^), ie) no *9 A Literary Archdeacon . III 10 A Great Chronicler . . 122 *(rt) 122: {b\{c) 124 : {d) 125 ; *{e] 126 11 Poet and Public • • • • • 126 X Table of Contents ♦12 13 14 *16 16 *17 *18 *19 20 *21 22 23 The Fight for Science A Monastic Poet Medieval Grub-Street *{d) 138: *W, *W 141 A Chronicler's Difficulties Autlior and Patrons . A Chronicler's Methods . Poet and King ... Hocrleve's Autobiography The Poet's Paradise Lyd gate's Early Days Our First Antiquary Translators' Difficulties *{a) 179: *{b) 180 kd)i («')! 71 43 {e) 1 44 PAGE 129 136 146 148 149 162 163 170 171 176 179 * 24 The Love of Books 183 SECTION IV Church and Churchmen 1 A Dying World .... *(«)i87: (^), W189: W190 2 Sacerdotal Authority *(.7) 190: {b\ {c) J91 3 Canon Law {a) 192: *{b) 194 4 Peter's Pence 5 Miracles *{a) 195 : *{b) 196 6 I Stretch Lame Hands of Faith *(u)i97: W198 7 Political Martyrs .... (<:/), *((^) 201 : {c) 202 : (■ impaired. 3 gabbling, chattering, snarling, croaking and hissing. * strive. 6 Land and Folk I was moche i-used to fore the firste moreyn^ and is siththe sumdel i-chaunged; for John Cornwaile, a maister of grammar, chaunged the lore in gramer scole and construccioun of Frensche into Englische; and Richard Pencriche lerned that manere techynge of hym and othere men of Pencrich ; so that now, the yere of oure Lorde a thovvsand thre hundred and foure score and fyve, and of the secounde kyng Richard after the conquest nyne, in alle the gramere scoles of Engelond, children leveth Frensche and construeth and lerneth an Englische, and haveth therby avauntage in oon side and dis- avauntage in another side ; here avauntage is, that they lerneth ther gramer in lasse tyme than children were i-woned to doo; disavauntage is that now children of gramer scole conneth na more Frensche than can thir lift heele; and that is harme for them and they schulle passe the see and travaille in straunge landes and in many other places. Also gentil men haveth now moche i-left for to teche there children Frensche. Hit semeth a greet wonder how Englische, that is the burthe tonge of Englisshemen and her owne langage and tonge, is so dyverse of sown in this oon ilond, and the langage of Normandie is comlynge oP another londe, and hath oon manere soun among alle men that speketh hit aright in Engelond. Nevertheles there is as many dyvers maner Frensche in the reem of Fraunce as i[s] dyvers manere Englische in the reem of Engelond. Also of the forsaide Saxon tonge that is i-deled a-thre, and is abide scarsliche with fewe uplondisshe men, is street wonder; for men of the est with men of the west, as it were undir the same partie of hevene, accordeth more in sownynge of speche than men of the north with men of the south; therfore it is that Mercii, that beeth men of myddel Engelond, as it were parteners of the endes, understondeth bettre the side langages, northerne and southerne, than north- erne or southerne understondeth either other. Al the longage of the Northhumbres, and specialliche at York, is so scharp, slitting, and frotynge^ and vnschape, that we southerne men may that longage unnethe understonde. I trowe that that is ^ plague. ^ imported from. ^ grating. I Merry England 7 by cause that they beeth nyh to straunge men and naciouns that speketh strongHche, and also bycause that the kynges of Engelond vvoneth ahvey fer from that cuntrey; for they beeth more i-torned to the south contray, and yif they gooth to the north contray they gooth with greet help and strengthe. (p. 165.) Now of the maneres and of the doynges of the mcdled peplc of Engelond nedeth for to telle. But the Flemynges that beeth in the westside of Wales beeth now by- torned as though they were Englische bycause of companye with Englische men, and they beeth stalworthe and stronge to figte, and beeth the moste enemyes that Walsche men hath, and useth marchaundyse and clothynge and beeth ful redy to putte them self to aventures and to peril in the see and in the lond bycause of greet wynnynge, and beeth redy for to goo somtyme to the plowgh and somtyme to dedes of armes whan tyme and place axeth. Hit semeth of this men a grete wonder that in a boon^ of a wethres right schuldre, whan the flesche is aweye i-sode and nought i-rosted, they knoweth what hath be do, is i-doo, and schal be do, and as hit' were by a spirit of prophecie and a wonderful craft they telleth what me[n] doth in fer contrayes, tokens of pees and of werre, the staat of the reeme, sleynge of men, and spouse- breche ; soche they declareth certeynliche by schewynge of tokenes and of sy[g]nes that beeth in suche a schulder boon.... But the Englische men that woneth in Engelond, that beeth i-medled in the ilond, that beth fer i-spronge from the places that they spronge of first, wel lightliche with oute entisynge of eny other men, by there owne assent tornen to contrary dedes. And so unesy, also ful unpacient of pees, enemy of besynesse, and wlatfuP of sleuthe...that whan they haveth destroyed there enemyes al to the grounde, thanne they fighteth with themself, and sleeth everiche other, as a voyd stomak and a clene worcheth in hit self....Notheles men of the south beeth esier and more mylde ; and men of the north be more unstable, more cruel, and more unesy ; the my d del men beeth somedele party ners with bothe ; also they 1 bone. " loathing. 8 La7id atid Folk i woneth them to g^lotonye more than other men, and beeth more costlevve in mete and in drynke and in clothynge. Men troweth that they took that vyce of kyng Hardeknute that was a Dane, for he sette twyes double messe at dyner and at soper also. These men been speedful bothe on hors and on foote, able and redy to alle manere dedes of armes, and beeth i-woned to have the victorie and the maistrie in everich fight wher no treson is walkynge; and beth curious, and kunneth wel i-novv telle dedes and wondres that thei haveth i-seie. Also they gooth in dyveres londes; unnethe beeth eny men richere in ther owne londe othere more gra- cious in fer and in straunge londe. They konneth betre Wynne and gete newe than kepe her owne heritage ; therfore it is that they beeth i-spred.so wyde, and meneth that everich other londe is thir owne heritage. The men beeth able to al manere sleithe^ and witte, but to fore the dede blondrynge and hasty, and more wys after the dede, and leveth ofte Hghtliche what they haveth bygonne....And as Hannibal saide that the Romayns myghte nought be overcome but in thir owne cuntray ; so Englische men mowe not [be] overcome in straunge londes, but in thir own cuntray thei beeth Hght- liche overcome.... These men despiseth thir owne, and preiseth other menis, and unnethe beeth apaide^ with thir owne estate ; what byfalleth and semeth other men, they wolleth glad- lyche take to them self; therfore hit is that a yeman arraieth hym as a squyer, a squyer as a knyght, a knight as a duke and a duke as a kyng. 2 SCOTLAND Bartholomew the Englishman (Bartholomaeus Anglicus) has some- times been confused with a quite different Bartholomew de Glanville of a century later : both were Friars Minor. Our Bartholomew studied in the Paris schools, joined the French province of the Order, and taught with success at Paris. In 1231 he was sent to Saxony, where he taught theology in the Franciscan convents. His great work, De Proprietatibus Rerum, was written pro- bably between 1250 and 1260 ; it at once became a standard work, and was one of the books hired at regulated prices by the scholars of Paris. ^ sleight. ^ pleased. I, 2 Scotland 9 It was translated into French in 1372, into English by Trevisa in 1398, and into Spanish and Dutch a century later. Not only the Middle Ages but even later centuries were indebted to it for many of their notions about the universe ; it was republished in 1582, in a slightly modernized form, by Stephen Batman ; and it has been contended that Shakespeare knew the volume well. (See Mr K. L. Kingsford's article on Bartholomew in Did. Nat. Biog. xxi. 409.) The first modern popularizer of Trevisa's Bartholomew was Mr Robert Steele {Medieval Lore, King's Classics, 1/6, an excellent volume to which readers should refer for much valuable matter for which there is no room here). Lib. XV. cap. clii. Of Scotia. The londe Scotia hathe the name of Scottes that [there] dvvelle. The men are lyght of harte,fiers and couragious on theyr enmyes. They love nyghe as well death a.s thraldome, and they account it for slouth to dye in bed, and a great worshyppe and vertue to deye in a felde fyghtynge agaynst enmyes. The men ben of scarse lyvynge, and n;any suffre hungre longe tyme and eate selde tofore the sonne goynge downe, and use fleshe, mylke meates, fyshe and fruites more than Brytons : and use to eate the lasse brede : and though the men bene semely ynough of fygure and of shape, and fayre of face generally by kind, yet theyr owne scottyshe clothynge dys- fygure them full moche. And scottes be sayd in theyr owne tonge of bodyes painted, as it were kytte^ and slytte. For in olde tyme they were marked with divers fygures and shape on theyr fleshe and skyn, made with yren prickes, as Isidore saith, [in his] " de Vocabulis Gentium." And, bycause of medlyng with englishe men, many of them have changed the olde maners of scottes in to better maners for the more parte, but the wylde scottes and Iryshe acounte greate worshyppe to folowe theyr fore fathers in clothynge, in tonge, and in lyvynge, and in other maner doynge. And dispise some deale the usages of other men in comparison to theyr owne usage. And so eche laboreth to be above : they detract and blame all other and envye all other : they deride al other, and blame all other mens maners, they be not ashamed to lye : and they repute no man, of what nation, bloudde, or puissaunce so ever he be, to be hardy and valiant, but them ' cut. lo Land and Folk i selfe. They delyte in theyr owne : They love not peace. In that lond is plentuous ground, mery woodes, moyst ryvers and wells, many flockes of beastes. There ben erthe tyllers, for quantite of the place, inovv. 3 IRELAND Trevisa's Hrgden, I. 331 ff., abbreviated as before. Higden's chief authority here is Giraldus Cambrensis. Irland is an iland grettest after Bretayne, and streccheth north from Brendans hilles anon to the ylond Columbyna, and conteyneth eighte dayes jorneis, evrich jorney of fourty mile. (p- 333-) The lond is not playne ; but ful of mountaynes and of hilles, of wodes, of mareys, and of mores : the lond is nesche^ reyny, and wyndy, and lowe by the see syde, and with ynne hilly and sondy. There is grete plente of noble pasture and of lese ; therfore bestes most ofte be dreve out of thir lese, leste they fede them self to ful and schende them- self, and they moste ete at thir owne will. Men of that lond haveth here hele^ alwey, and straunge men haveth ofte a perilous fluxe by cause of moysture of mete ; there cowes flesche is holsom and swynes flesch unholsom. Men of that lond haveth no fevere, but onliche the fevere agu, and that wel silde-whanne. Therfore the holsomnesse and helthe of that lond and the clennesse withoute venyme is worth all the boost and richesse of treen, of herbes, of spicerie of riche clothes, and precious stones of the est londes. Hit semeth that the helthe of that lond is bycause that there is noght gret passynge and exces in [cold] nother in hete....In this lond beeth mo kyn than oxen, more pasture than corne, more gras than seed. There is grete plente of samon, of lampreys, of eles, and of other see fisch ; of egles, of cranes, of pekokes, of corlewes, of sperhaukes, of goshaukes, and of gentil faucouns, and of wolfes, and of wel schrewed mys^ There beth attercoppes*, bloodsoukers, and enettes^ that dooth noon harm. There beeth veyres® litel of body and ful hardy ^ soft. * health. ^ mice. ■* spiders. ° newts. " weasels. 2. 3 Ireland 1 1 and strone. There beeth bernakes', foules liche to wylde gees; kynde bryngeth them forth vvonderliche out of the trees, as it were kynde worchynge agenst kynde. Men of re- ligioun eteth bernakes in fasting dayes, for they cometh nought of flesche nother beeth i-gete flescheliche bytwene fader and moder : but they {such monks] beeth ful lewedliche i-meved, for resoun is contrarie to that doynge. For yif a man hadde i-ete of Adams thigh, he had i-ete flesch ; and yit Adam com nought of flesch, nother was i-gete fleschehche bytwene fader and moder. But that flesch com wonderHche of the erthe, so this flesche cometh vvonderliche of the tree. In this lond is plente of hony and of mylk and of wyn, and nought of vyneyerdes. Solinus and Isidorus wryten that Irlond hath no bees ; netheles it wer better wryten that Irlond hath bees and no vyneyerdes. Also Beda seith there is grete huntynge of roobukkes, and it is i-knowe that roobukkes beeth noon there. It is no wonder of Beda ; for Beda knew nevere that ilond with his eyghe ; bot som tale tellere tolde hym suche tales. • ...Whete comes beeth there ful smal, unnethe i-clansed* with manis bond; out-take men, alle bestes beeth smallere there than in other londes. There lacketh..,venemous bestes ; therfore som men feyneth and favorabliche seith that Seynt Patryk clensed that lond of wormes and of venemous bestes. But it is more probable and more skilful ^ that this lond was from the bygynnynge alwey with oute such wormes. For venemous bestes and wormes dyeth there anon, and we brynge then thider out of other londes ; and also venym and poysoun, i-brought thidervvard out of other londes, leseth his malys anon as he passeth the myddel of the see. Also powder of erthe of that lond i-sowe in other londes useth awey wormes so fer forth, that a torf of that lond i-doo aboute a worme sleeth hym other maketh hym thrulle* thorugh the erthe for to scape a way. In that lond cokkes croweth wel litel to fore day ; so that the firste cokkes crowe in that lond and the thridde in other londes beeth i-liche fer to fore day. 1 barnacle-geese. ^ cleansed. ^ reasonable. ■• bore. 12 Land and Folk i (p. 341.) Giraldus seith that Casera, Noes nece, dradde the flood and fligh with thre men and fifty vvommen into that ilond, and wonede ther ynne first the laste yere to fore Noes flood.... (p. 351.) Solinus seith that men of this lond beeth straunge of nacioun, housles, and grete fighteres, and acounteth right and wrong one thyng, and beeth sengle of clothinge, scarse of mete, cruel of herte, and angry of speche, and drink- eth firste blood of dede men that beeth i-slawe, and then wassheth there face therwith ; and holdeth them apayde ' with flesshe and fruit instede of mete, and with mylk instede of drynke, and useth moche playes and ydelnesse and huntynge, and travailleth ful litel. In thir child hode they beeth harde i-norisched and hard i-fed, and they beeth un- semeliche of maneres and of clothyng, and haveth breche and hosen al oon of wolle, and straight hodes that streccheth a cubite over the schuldres by hynde, and blak faldynges- instede of mantels and of clokes. Also sadeles, bootes, and spores they useth none, whan they rideth....They fighteth vnarmed, naked in body ; nevertheles with tweie dartes and speres and with brode sparthes^ They fighteth with oon hond ; and whan other wepene failleth, they haveth good puble-stones redy at hond. These men forsaketh tilienge of lond and kepeth pasture for beestes : they useth longe berdes and longe lokkes hongynge doun by hynde thir nolles*. They use no craft of flex and wolle, of metal, nothcr of marchaundise, but geveth them alle to idelnesse and to sleuthe, and counteth reste for likyng and fredom for richesse. And they'' Scotlond the doughter of Irlond use harpe, tymbre, and tabour, and Wales useth harpe, and pipe, and tabour, nevertheles Irische men beeth connyng in tweie manere instrumentis of musyk, in harpe and tymbre that is i-armed with wire and with strenges of bras, In the whiche instrumentis, they thei pleye hastiliche and swiftliche, they maketh wel mery armonye and melody with wel thicke tunes, werbeles^, and notes.... ' content. "■' rough cloth. ^ axes. ■• heads. * though. " warblings. 3 Ireland 1 3 These men beeth of yvel maneres and of levynge ; they paieth none tethinges^ thei weddeth lawefulliche none wyfes, they spareth not ther alies, hot the brother weddeth his brother wyf. They beeth besy forto betraye thire neigh- bores and othere. They beren sparthes in there bond instede of stanes, and fighteth therwith agenst them that tristeth to them beste ; the men beeth variable and un- stedefast, trecherous and gileful. Who that deleth with them nedeth more to be war more of gile than of craft, of pees than of brennynge brondes, of hony than of galle, of malice than of knyghthode. They haveth suche maneres that thei beeth not stronge in werre and bataille, nother trewe in pees. They bycometh gossibs to them that they wolleth falseliche betraye in gosibrede and holy kynrede ; everiche drinketh otheres blood, whan it is i-sched. He loveth somdel ther norice and there pleieng feres^ whiche that souketh the same melk that they souketh, while they beeth children. And they purseweth there bretheren, ther cosyns, and there other kyn ; and despiseth thir kyn, while they beeth on lyve, and avVreketh ther deeth, and they beeth i-slawe. (p. 359.) In this lond and in Wales olde wyfes and wymmen were i-woned, and beeth yit (as me pleyneth) ofte forto schape them self in liknes of hares for to melke there neighebores keen, and so stele thire melk, and ofte grehoundes renneth after them and purseweth them, and weneth that they be hares. Also som by craft of nygramauncie maketh fat swyne that beeth reed of colour and noon other, and selleth them in chepinge and in feires ; but anon as these swyne passeth ony water they torneth agen in to thir owne kynde, where it be straw, hey, gras, other torves. But these swyn mowe not be i-kept by no manere craft forto dure in liknesse of swyn over thre dayes. Among these wondres and othere take hede that in the uttermeste endes of the world falleth ofte newe mervailles and wondres, as thei "" kynde pleyde with larger leve priveliche and fer in the endes than openliche and nygh in the myddel. Therfore in this ilond beeth meny grisliche mervayles and wondres. 1 tithes. - playfellows, here = foster-brethren. ^ though. 14 Land and Folk i Meny men telleth that in the northe side of Irlond is the ilond of lyf ; in that ilond is no man that may deie ; but whan they beeth i-holde with hard siknesse they beeth i-bore out to the next ilond, and deie there. There is also Patrick his purgatorie, that was i-schewed at his prayere to conferme his prechynge and his lore, whan he preched to mysbileved men of sorwe and peyne that evel men schal thole' for thire wicked wordes, and of joye and of blisse that gode men schal fonge^ for there holy dedes. He telleth that who that suffreth the peynes of that purgatorie, yif it be enjoyned hym for penaunce, he schal nevere suffre the peynes of helle, but he dye fynalliche with oute re- pentaunce of synne, as the ensample is i-sette more ful at this chapitres ende. Thei this sawe myght be sooth, it is but a jape. For no man that dooth dedely synne schal be i-saved, but he be verrey repentaunt, what sommever penaunce he doo ; and every man that is verray repentaunt at his lifes ende of al his mysdedes, he schal be sikerliche i-saved and have the blisse of hevene, though he nevere [hear] speke of Patrik his purgatorie. (p. 371.) Touchynge Patrik his purgatorie take hede that the secounde Seynt Patryk, that was abbot and nought bisshop, whyle he preched in Irlond studied wel faste besily for to torne thilke wicked men, that levede as bastes, out of there yvel l>-f for drede of the peynes of helle, and for to conferme them in good lyf by hope of the grete blisse of hevene ; and they seide that they wolde nought torne, but [if] some of them myghte knowe somwhat of the grete peynes and the blisse, that he spak of, whyle they were here on lyve. Thanne Seynt Patrik preied to God alle myghty therfore; and oure Lord Jesus Crist apperede to Patrik, and took hym a staf, and the text of the gospel that beeth in the contray in the erche- bisshops ward. Thanne oure Lorde ladde Patrik into a wilde place, and schewed hym there a round pitte that was derke with ynne, and seide: Yif a man were verray repentaunt and stable of byleve, and went in to this pitte, and waked there 1 endure. - take. Ireland 15 inne a day and a nyght, he schuld see the sorwes and the peynes of evel men and the joye and the bUsse of goode men ; than Crist vanysched out of Patrik his sight, and Patrik rered there a chirche and dede there chanouns reguler, and closed the pitte aboute with a wal ; and is now in the chirche yerde right at the est ende of the chirche, and is fast i-loke with a strong gate. For no man schulde niseHche^ wende yn with oute leve of the bisshop and of the priour of the place. Meny men went yn there and come out agen in Patrik his tyme, and tolde of peynes and joye that they hadde i-seie ; and mervayles that they sey beeth yit there i-wrete. And by cause therof meny men torned and were converted to right byleve. Also meny men wente yn and come never agen. In kyng Stevene his tyme, king of Engelond, a knyght that heet Owen went into Patryk his purgatorie, and come agen, and dwelled al his lyf tyme afterward in the nedes- of the abbay of Louth that is of the ordre of Cisterciens, and tolde meny men of wondres that he hadde i-seie in Patrykes pur- gatorie. * No man is enjoyned forto wende in to that purgatorie, bote i-counseilled wel faste that they schulde not come there; but yif he wil nedes entre, he schal first be i-sent to the bisshop of the place, and he schalle counsaile hym for to leve; and yif the man is stable, and wil nede take the wey, the bisshop schal sende hym with lettres to the priour of the place; and the priour schal counseille hym to leve. And^ he wil take that wey, he schal be i-brought into the chirche, and there he schal be in prayers and in fastynge fiftene dayes. And after fiftene dayes he schal be housled* and i-lad to the dore of purga- torie with processioun and letanye; and there he schal be counseilled to leve that weye. Than yf he is stedfast and stable, the dore schal be i-opened, and he schal be i-blessed, and he schal blesse hymself also, and goo yn a Goddes half^ and holde forth his wey. Than the dore schal be faste i-loke forto another day. Whan the day is come, the priour cometh to the dore erliche and by tyme, and openeth the dore; and 1 foolishly. * business. 'if. * take the Eucharist. * in God's name. 1 6 Land aiid Folk i yif the man is i-come, he ledeth hym in to the chirche with processioun ; and there he schal be fiftene dayes in prayers and fasti nge'. Here Girald maketh mencioun, that as men of this nacioun beeth more angry than other men and more hasty for to take wreche, while they beeth on lyve; so seyntes and halowes of this lond beeth more wrecheful than seyntes of other londes, Clerkes of this lond beeth chast, and biddeth meny bedes, and dooth greet abstinence a day, and drynketh al nyght ; so that it is acounted for a myracle that leccherie reigneth nought there, as wyn reigneth. And, as moche schrewes among them beeth of alle schrewes worste, so good men among them (theis there beeth but fewe,) beeth goode at the best. Prelates of that contray beeth wel slowe in cor- reccioun of trespas, and besy in contemplacioun, and nowt of prechynge of Goddes word. Therfore it is that alle the seyntes of that lond beeth confessoures, and non martir among them; and no wonder, for wel nyh alle the prelates of that contrey beeth i-chose out of abbayes in to the clergie, and dooth as monkes schulde. (p. 381.) In this lond, in Wales, and in Scotland, bee belles and staves with croked hedes, and othere such thinges for relikes, in grete reverence and worschippe ; so that men of this lond dredeth more forto swere uppon eny of thilke belles and gold battes than uppen the gospel. The chief of alle suche relikes is i-holde Jesus his staf that is at Develynge^; with the whiche staf they seith that the first Patrik droaf the wormes out of Irlond. Yf me axeth, how it m.ay be that dyverse manere bestes and of dyverse kynde, that beeth kyndeliche i-gete bytwene male and female, come and beeth in ilonds after Noes flood, me troweth that suche bestes swam in to ilondes aboute, and firste to the nexte, and so forth in to othere; othere men seillinge into othere londes broughte with them suche bestes for love of huntinge ; other aungelles at God Almyghties 1 For Froissarl's reference to St Patrick's Purgatory see below, Section III., piece 17 ad fin. s Dublin. 3, 4 Irela7td 1 7 heste broughte suche bestes in to ilondes aboute; other the erthe brought them forth ferst and fulfilled thoo Goddes heste, that heet the erthe brynge forth gras and quyk bestes. 4 WALES From the medieval translation of Higden printed in the Rolls Series under that of Trevisa, from MS. Harl. 2261 ; abbreviated as before ; I. 395. That londe whiche is callede now Wallia, other Wales in Englischg, was callede somme tyme Cambria, of Camber the son of Brute, whiche was lorde of hyt. That londe is plentuous in frutes, flesche, fische, horses, oxen, and schepe bothe wylde and tame. That londe is apte also to alle seedes, gresse, cornes, medoes, feldes, and woodes, with herbes and floures, floodes and welles, vales and hilles. The vales in hit brynge furthe foode, and the hilles metalles. And the matere and substaunce amonge they me is hony, mylke, and whitemeite^ Methe and bragotte- be there, as ale habundantely in that cuntre; which londe bryngethe furthe plentuousely what so ever thynge that is necessary to the lyf (p. 401.) The use of that cuntre diiTerrethe from the rite of Englonde in clothenge, in fyndenge^, and in mony other Ihynges. A mantelle and a schurte be the nowble thynges of vesture amonge theyme, whiche use to bere fewe clothes in wynter thaughe winde blawe ryghte coldely ; whiche sytte, stonde, and slepe despisenge schetes ; with owte hud- des, cootes, or tabardes, bare on the legges ; whiche use unnethe to go eny other way, thaughe thei scholde mete a kynge ; fightenge with short speres in conflictes, amonge whom the men in foote be more stronge then the horse men. Woodes be to theym as for towres, and marras* for places of defence ; whiche take fleenge as fighte, whan they thenke tyme and opportunite. (p. 405.) The peple of that cuntre wille suffre hungre longe, luffenge the commune foode, inquirenge not the arti- ficialle operacion of cookes at the dyners of theyme, eitenge brede made of otes and of barly, brode, rownde, and thynne, as 1 milk foods. ^ spiced ale. ^ food. ^ marshes. C. , 2 1 8 Land and Folk i hit besemetlie suche bloode. That peple dothe eite selde whete that is baken in an ove[n] ; the meites of whom be buttyr, mylke, and chese; whiche provoke a man to drynke methe and ale, whiche thei do use daily. Thei accompte that wyne most principalle whiche is moste redde, whiche peple usenge to drynke seasethe not from communicacion and talkenge of ydelele thynges. Salt and lekes be to theyme solace at meyte, and after; acomptenge that a grete solace to yiffe a caldron with potages to men syttenge abowte and to divide to every man his porcion, kepenge to hym the remanente. But the infortuny of flesche nyouthe' theim moche, eitenge salmon hoote, ageyne the precepte of phisike. Whiche inhabite howses, whom thei make of litelle roddes; not nye to gedre, as thei use to make edificacions in cites. This peple useth to devoure the goodes of other men after that thei have devourede theire owne goodes, eitenge that thei fynde, returnenge after that to theire owne places, spendenge theire life in ydelnesse and in slauthe. The consuetude is of Walche men to giffe water to theire gestes to drynke. And if thei wasche theire feete, thei thenke that thei be wellecommen. Men of that cuntre vse in theire festes a crowde^, an harpe and trumpes. But at the deth of a man thei crye lyke to wylde bestes in exaltenge the bloode of Tro}% of whom they toke begynnenge. That peple thenkethe men nye to theyme by bloode whome a C. degrees do separate. Neverthelesse thei be obediente to pristes, worschippenge theyme as the angelles of God. The prophecy of Merlyne and wycche crafte was wonte to begile theyme and to move theim to batelles. But nowe thei chaunge theire maneres gretely in to better exercise thro the communicacion of Saxones. Thei tylle feldes and gardynes, and applye theim to inhabite townes, usenge haburgeones and goenge with schoes, refresch- enge theim in meites after curtesy, slepenge in beddes after the consuetude of Englische rather then after the maner of theim usede afore tyme. And if the cause be inquirede why thei lyve so now rather then in tymes afore, hyt may be ansuerede and seide that rychesse be the cause ther of, but ^ hurts. '^ small fiddle. 4 Wales 1 9 now the drede of theire goode withdrawethe them from the exercise of conflictes. (p. 412.) Of the viervayles of Wales. At Brehenoc* is a water habundante in fisches of diverse coloures, where a man may see in clere tymes mervellous edifienges, where a mervellous noyce and sownde be herde. And if the prince of that londe come, the bryddes synge and make grete melody to him, schewenge not pleasure and comforte to eny other man. (p. 417.) Also there is a region at Penbroke whiche is vexed moche by the illusion of develles, whiche can not be made clene thro eny crafte other preiers, whiche, movenge that londe, doth prenosticate a grete fall of the peple of that cuntre. (p. 423.) There be hilles in Snawdonia of a grete altitude, in so moche that a man may unnethe goe from the foote of hit to the highte of hit in a day. Whiche hilles men of that cuntrie calle Eriri, that sowndethe in Englishe the hilles of snawe, whiche be sufificiaunte in pastures to alle the bestes in Wales ; in the altitude of whom be ii. waters, oon of whom c6ncludethe an yle movede to and fro with the wynde, in so moche that drovers of bestes mervaile theyme to be caryede from oon place to an other sodenly. (p. 427.) Also there is an other yle contiguate to that place, conteynenge heremites ; and if there be discorde amonge theyme, myce gedre anoon and devoure the meites of theyme, whiche grevaunce dothe not cease tille that peace be reconsilede among theim. Also that peple of that cuntre be replete with the melancholy lyke to the peple of Yrlonde, so seyntes of that cuntre be prompte un to vengeance ; where belles and croked staves be hade in grete veneration, as men use in Yrlonde and in Scottelande whiche peple drede more to swere by theym then on a masse booke. Also at Basyngwerc spryngethe an holy welle, whiche is of so grete fervence that hit castethe owte thynges caste in to hit, whiche bredethe so grete a water that myghte suffice to alle Wales ; whiche water gififethe grete hejpe to seke peple ; where thou schalle fynde stones havenge in theym as dropes of ^ Brecon. 2—2 20 Land and Folk i blood, in the signe of the holy bloode whiche floede owte from the throte of Seynte Wenefride, For whiche offence the doers of hit and alle theire childer and successores berke in the maner of dogges, un til thei aske the suffrage and helpe of Seynte Wenefride at that welle, other elles at the cite of Schrewisbury where sche restethe now, hade there in grete veneracion. FLANDERS This brief description of our present allies seems worth including as typical of the medieval point of view, and as containing an interesting reference to our own land. Trevisa's Higden, I. 289. And theygh Flaundres be a litel lond, it is ful plenteuous of meny profitable thinges, and of richesse of pasture, of bestes, of marchaundise, of ryveres, of havenes of the see, and of good townes. The men of Flaundres beeth faire, stronge, and riche ; and bringeth forth meny children, and beeth pecible to thir neighebores, trewe to straungeres, noble craftes-men and greet makeres of cloth that they sendeth aboute wel nygh al Europa. The lond is pleyne and skarse of wode ; therfore in stede of wode they brenneth torfes, that smelleth wors than wode, and maketh fouler as[h]es. Braban is by south est Flaundres, and is plenteuous of marchaundise and of makynge of clooth. For of wolle, that they haveth out of Engelond, they maketh clooth of dyvers coloures and sendeth in to othere provinces and londes, as Flaundres dooth. For, they Engelonde have wolle at the beste, he hath nought so grete plente of good water for dyvers coloures and hewes as Flaundres hath and Braban. Nevertheles at Londoun is oon welle that helpeth wel to make good scarlet, and so is at Lyncolne in certeyne place in the brook that passeth by the toun. Q THE EFFECTS OF THE CONQUEST William of Malmesbury, De Gestis Regutn^ Lib. ni. tr. J. A. Giles (Bohn, 1847, pp. 278-280). This [Battle of Hastings] was a fatal day to England, a melancholy havoc of our dear country, through its change of 4-6 The Effects of the Conquest 2 1 masters. For it had long since adopted the manners of the Angles, which had been very various according to the times : for in the first years of their arrival, they were barbarians in their look and manners, warlike in their usages, heathens in their rites ; but, after embracing the faith of Christ, by degrees, and in process of time, from the peace they enjoyed, regarding arms only in a secondary light, they gave their whole at- tention to religion. ...Nevertheless, in process of time, the desire after literature and religion had decayed, for several \'ears before the arrival of the Normans. The clercrv, con- tented with a very slight degree of learning, could scarcely stammer out the words of the sacraments ; and a person who understood grammar, was an object of wonder and astonish- ment. The monks mocked the rule of their order by fine vestments, and the use of every kind of food. The nobility, given up to luxury and wantonness, went not to church in the morning after the manner of Christians, but merely, in a careless manner, heard matins and masses from a hurrying priest in their chambers, amid the blandishments of their wives. The commonalty, left unprotected, became a prey to the most powerful, who amassed fortunes, by either seizing on their property, or by selling their persons into foreign countries ; although it be an innate quality of this people, to be more inclined to revelling, than to the accumulation of wealth. There was one custom, repugnant to nature, which they adopted ; namely, to sell their female servants, when pregnant by them and after they had satisfied their lust, either to public prostitution, or foreign slavery. Drinking in parties was a universal practice, in which occupation they passed entire^ nights as well as days. They consumed their whole substance in mean and despicable houses ; unlike the Normans and French, who, in noble and splendid mansions, lived with frugality. The vices attendant on drunkenness, which enervate the human mind, followed ; hence it arose that engaging William, more with rashness, and precipitate fury, than military skill, they doomed themselves and their country to slavery, by one, and that an easy, victor}'. " For nothing is less effective than rashness ; and what begins with 2 2 Land and Folk i violence, quickly ceases, or is repelled." In fine, the English at that time wore short garments reaching to the mid-knee ; they had their hair cropped ; their beards shaven ; their arms laden with golden bracelets ; their skin adorned with punc- tured designs. They were accustomed to eat till they became surfeited, and to drink till they were sick. These latter qualities they imparted to their conquerors ; as to the rest, they adopted their manners. I would not, however, have these bad propensities ascribed to the English universally. I know that many of the clergy, at that day, trod the path of sanctity, by a blameless life ; I know that many of the laity, of all ranks and conditions, in this nation, were well-pleasing to God. Be injustice far from this account ; the accusation does not involve the whole indiscriminately. Moreover, the Normans, that I may speak of them also, were at that time, and are even now, proudly apparelled, delicate in their food, but not excessive. They are a race inured to war, and can hardly live without it; fierce in rushing against the enemy ; and where strength fails of success, ready to use stratagem, or to corrupt by bribery. As I have related, they live in large edifices with economy ; envy their equals ; wish to excel their superiors ; and plunder their subjects, though they defend them from others ; they are faithful to their lords, though a slight offence renders them perfidious. They weigh treachery by its chance of success, and change their sentiments with money. They are, however, the kindest of nations, and they esteem strangers worthy of equal honour ' with themselves. They also intermarry with their vassals. They revived, by their arrival, the observances of religion, which were everywhere grown lifeless in England. You might see churches rise in every village, and monasteries in the towns and cities, built after a style unknown before ; you might behold the country flourishing with renovated rites ; so that each wealthy man accounted that day lost to him, which he had neglected to signalize by some magnificent action. 6-8 Norman Manners 2 J 7 NORMAN MANNERS Henry of Huntingdon, Hist. Anglorutn, Lib. vi. ad fin., speaking of the reign of William I. For it is the nature [of the Normans] that, when they have so cast down their enemies as to add no more to their burdens, then they proceed to oppress each other, reducing their own folk with their lands to poverty and devastation. This appeareth more and more plainly in Normandy, England, Apulia, Calabria, Sicily and Antioch, lands of great fertility which God hath subjected to the Normans. In England, therefore, unjust taxes abounded in those days, and abominable customs. All the great folk were so blinded with greed for gold and silver, that the poet's word was true of them : " All must needs get and get, while none asks how his gains are gotten." The more talk there was of right, the more acts of unrighteousness ; those who were called Justiciaries were the fountainhead of all injustice. Sheriffs and reeves, whose duty was to dispense law and justice, were more savage than the thieves and robbers, and more barbarous than the most bar- barous of all. The king himself had farmed out his lands as dearly as he could ; he would transfer them to another who offered more, and again to another, ever making light of his own covenant, and greedy of greater gain. So in this year 1087 God sent plagues of sickness and famine upon England; so that he who escaped the fever died of hunger. He sent also tempests and thunder, whereby many men were slain ; nor did He spare either oxen or sheep. 8 STEPHEN'S MISRULE From the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle., R. S., vol. 11. p. 230. When king Stephen came to England (a. 1139X ^e held an assembly at Oxford, and there he took the bishop Roger of Salisbury, and Alexander bishop of Lincoln, and the chancellor Roger, his nephew, and put them all into prison, till they gave up their castles. When the traitors perceived that he was a mild man, and soft, and good, and did no justice, then did they all wonder. They had done homage to 24 Land and Folk i him, and sworn oaths, but had held no faith ; they were all forsworn, and forfeited their troth ; for every powerful man made his castles, and held them against him ; and they filled the land full of castles. They cruelly oppressed the wretched men of the land with castle-works. When the castles were made, they filled them with devils and evil men. Then took they those men that they imagined had any property, both by night and by day, peasant men and women, and put them in prison for their gold and silver, and tortured them with unutterable torture; for never were martyrs so tortured as they were. They hanged them up by the feet, and smoked them with foul smoke ; they hanged them up by the thumbs, or by the head, and hung fires on their feet: they put knotted strincfs about their heads, and writhed them so that it went to the brain. They put them in dungeons, in which were adders, and snakes, and toads, and killed them so. Som^e they put in a "crucet hus," that is, in a chest that was short, and narrow, and shallow, and put sharp stones therein, and pressed the man therein, so that they brake all his limbs. (p. 231.) In many of the castles were [instruments called] a " laS and grim," these were neck-bonds, of which two or three men had enough to bear one. It was so made, that [it was] fastened to a beam ; and they put a sharp iron about the man's throat and his neck, so that he could not in any direction sit, or lie, or sleep, but must bear all that iron. Many thousands they killed with hunger ; I neither can nor may tell all the wounds or all the tortures which they in- flicted on wretched men in this land ; and that lasted the nineteen winters while Stephen was king ; and ever it was worse and worse. They laid imposts on the towns con- tinually, and called it "censerie." When the wretched men had no more to give, they robbed and burned all the towns, so that thou mightest well go all a day's journey and thou shouldst never find a man sitting in a town, or the land tilled. Then was corn dear, and flesh, and cheese, and butter ; for there was none in the land. Wretched men died of hunger ; some went seeking alms who at one while were rich men ; some fled out of the land. Never yet had more wretchedness 8, 9 Stephens Misrule 25 been in the land, nor did heathen men ever do worse than they did ; for everywhere at times they forbore neither church nor churchyard, but took all the property that was therein, and then burned the church and altogether. Nor forbore they a bishop's land, nor an abbot's, nor a priest's, but robbed monks and clerks, and every man another who anywhere could. If two or three men came riding to a town, all the township fled before them, imagining them to be robbers. The bishops and clergy constant!)' cursed them ; but nothing came of it ; for they were all accursed, and forsworn, and lost. However a man tilled, the earth bare no corn ; for the land was all fordone by such deeds : and they said openly that Christ and his saints slept. Such and more than we can say, we endured nineteen winters for our sins. 9 THE LAW OF ENGLISHRY From the Dialogue of the Exchequer^ composed by Richard, Bishop of London and Treasurer, who died in 1198. The present translation is from the text in W. Stubbs, Selected Charters, 1890, p. 201 (Bk I. ch. x.). Although the distinction between Norman and English was so nearly \,^ obliterated among freemen before 1200, the law here referred to was not finally repealed until 1339. The Master. Murdrum is, properly, the secret death of a man whose slayer is unknown ; for the word murdrum signifieth secret or hidden. Now, in the earlier state of this realm after the Conquest, those English who were left were wont to lie in wait for the dreaded and hated Normans, and secretly to slay them here and there in woods or secluded places, as opportunity might offer. The kings and their ministers, therefore, did for some years inflict the most ex- quisite forms of torture upon the English, yet without full effect ; until at length they imagined this following device. Wheresoever a Norman was found thus slain, if the slayer did not show himself or even betray himself by flight, then the whole of that district called the Hundred was fined on behalf of the royal treasury, some in thirty-six pounds sterling and some in forty-four, according to the diversity of districts and the frequency of murders ; which (as we hear) was decreed in 26 Land and Folk i order that this general penalty might secnre the safety of way- farers, and that all men might be spurred on either to punish the crime or to hand over to justice that man who had brought so enormous a loss upon the whole neighbourhood. Thou must know, as aforesaid, that they who sit at the Exchequer are free from the payment of these fines. The Disciple. Should not the secret death of an English- man, as of a Norman, be imputed as nmrdnim'i The Master. Not at the first institution of this law, as thou hast heard; but now that English and Normans have lived so long together, and have intermarried, the nations have become so intermingled (I speak of freemen only) that we can scarce distinguish in these days betwixt Englishman and Norman ; excepting of course those serfs bound to the land whom we call villeins, and who cannot leave their con- dition without leave of their masters. Wherefore, in these days, almost every secret manslaughter is punished as murdrum, except those of whom (as I have said) it is certain that they are of servile condition. lO THE CORNISH FOREIGNER Adam de Marisco, or Adam Marsh, was third successor to Grosseteste as Lecturer in the Franciscan School at Oxford about 1247. His Italian contemporary Salimbene characterized him as "one of the greatest scholars in the world" ; and Roger Bacon repeatedly couples him with Grosse- teste as "perfect in all wisdom." His letters are printed in the ist vol. of Monumenta Fra?iciscana, R. S., 1858 : the following translation is from p. 134, addressed to Grosseteste. I have not yet fully conferred with Master Robert Marsh [my brother], concerning persons apt for the prebend for which you have asked me to recommend. But, as I now see the matter, there occurs to me Master Solomon of Dover ...Master Peter of Aldham,...and Master Richard of Corn- wall, who, reverend Father, is not altogether unknown unto you ; a man lacking in command of the English tongue, yet of most honest conversation and unblemished reputation, learned in human and divine literature. 9-1 1 The Wild West 11 THE WILD WEST John de Grandisson, Bishop of Exeter 1327- 1369, was cousin to the Sir Otho de Granson from whom Chaucer translated his Contpleynt of Venus. The fcHowing description of his diocese is translated from two letters written, soon after his enthronement, (i) to his patron. Pope John XXII., and (ii) to several friendly cardinals at the Court of Avignon {Register of John de Crajtdisson, ed. Hingeston-Randolph, vol. i. pp. 95, 97). I have taken the liberty of compressing the two descriptions, which complement each other, into one. Purposing to survey the possessions and buildings apper- taining to my see, I travelled to the border parts of Cornwall. That land adjoineth England only with its eastern boundary ; the rest is everywhere surrounded by the ocean, far beyond which, to the North, lie Wales and Ireland. Southwards, it looks straight over to Gascony and Brittany ; and the men of Cornwall speak the Breton tongue. To the West of St Michael's Mount, the immensity of ocean stretches without bound or limit. My see possesseth also certain sea-girt islands [i.e. Scilly], whereunto no bishop ever goeth, but they have been wont to send a few friars, as I have not [yet] done. Here I am not only at the end of the world but even (if I may so say) at the ends of the very end. For this diocese, which includes Devon and Cornwall, is divided from the rest of England, and girt on all sides but one by an ocean which is rarely navigable, and frequented only by the natives of the land. It aboundeth sufficiently in home-fed flesh of beasts and at times in Gascony wine; but it is less fertile in corn and other things necessary to man. My episcopal manors I found terribly destroyed and despoiled, in hatred of my predecessor who was so inhumanly murdered ^ my lands waste and untilled, and an utter default of cattle and seed corn. ^ Grandisson succeeded (after a very brief episcopate of John de Berkeley) to that Bishop Stapeldon whose murder is recounted in the French Chronicle of London (Camden Soc. 1844), p. 52. \ 28 Land a7id Folk i ^ 12 THE ENGLISH TONGUE The Brut, E.E.T.S., 1908, p. 315. And in the xxxviii yere of his regne [1363], hit was ordeyned in the parlement, that men of lawe, bothe of the temporall and of holy chirche lawe, fro that tyme forth shold plede in her moder tunge. 13 ENGLISH TAILS For a learned disquisition on this strange legend see G. Neilson, Caudatus Anglicus, 1896. The two following extracts show how widely it was believed. Already about 1 155, Robert Wace described the incident which Robert Manning paraphrased into English in his Chronicle (about 1300). The second extract is from Fazio degli Uberti, a Florentine vvho compiled, about 1370, a popular encyclopedia in verse. When Fazio writes " I saw," he speaks only metaphorically ; the scheme of his poem is that Solinus the ancient geographer leads him everywhere and shows him everything, as Virgil and Beatrice led Dante. References in foreign medieval satire to the tailed Englishman are innumerable : as Mannyng puts it "ffor tallies al Englische kynde ys blamed." {a) Mannyng's Chro7ticle, R. S., p. 527. St Augustine, the Apostle of the English, is preaching in Kent. Toward Rouchestre he tok his w&yQ, Godes worde for to seye. Byside Rouchestre y the londe, South est thethen^ a folk he fond That to Godes werk gaf no tent, Ne no grace in them non henf^ ; But there he stod them to preche, And ther savacion for to teche, Byhynd him on his clothes they henge, Righe^ tallies on a strenge. When they had done that vyleny, They drof hym thenne wyth maistri ; « ffer weys they gan hym chace, Tallies they casten in hys face. Thys holy man God bisought, ffor they hym that vileny wrought, That on them and on al ther kynde, Tailled, alle men schulde hem fynde. ^ thence. ^ got. '* =tlie fish ray of skate. 12-14 English Tails 29 And God graunted al that he bad, fifor alle that kynde tallies had, — Tallies hadde, and tallies have ; fTro that vengaunce non may them save. — ffor they wyth tallies the godeman schamed, ffor tallies al Engllsche kynde ys blamed ; In manle sere^ londes seyd, Of tho tallies we have umbreyde^ {b) Fazio's Dittamondo, Lib. iv. c. 23 (ed. 1826, p. 350). The people of this land are white and fair to see, even as in Ethiopia they are black and hideous. Many clear foun- tains and cold baths we found there, and great plains, and divers beasts in thick woods. Divers also are the fruits, and broad the pastures ; fair towns and noble cities adorned with palaces and lofty walls ; great and noble rivers without fords, and abundance of flesh, corn and fish. Justice is strong in those lands. One thing I saw not — but it was a strange thing to hear, and all bear it out as true, wherefore it behoveth me to set it down even as I heard it — that among these islands is one islet where folk are born with tails, but short, such as the tail of a stag or some like beast. It is true that, when each [child] is loosed from his swaddling-clothes, the mothers flee into other parts, to avoid this mischiefs It is noised among these people, but I give it no faith, that there are such wondrous trees as to be^et birds for fruits '&' 14 ENGLISH DRINK From the Chronicle of the Italian friar Salimbene, who wrote about 1285 {Momimenta Germaniae^ Scriptores, xxxil. p. 219). So the French delight in good wine, nor need we wonder, for wine " cheereth God and men," as it is written in the ninth chapter of Judges.... It may be said literally that French and. English make it their business to drink full goblets. Wherefore ' several. 2 upbraiding. 2 The legend was often localized, as we have seen, at Rochester ; and it was said that mothers went over the bridge to Stroud for their confinement, so as to avoid the curse. * i.e. the barnacle-goose: see above No. 3. 30 Land and Folk i the French have blood-shot eyes; for from their ever-free potations of wine their eyes become red-rimmed, and bleared and bloodshot. And in the early morning, after they have slept off their wine, they go with such eyes to the priest who has celebrated Mass, and pray him to drop into their eyes the water wherein he has washed his hands. But Brother Bartolommeo Guiscola of Parma was wont to say at Provins (as I have often heard with mine own ears) " ale, ke malonta ve don De ; metti de I'aighe in le vins, non in lis ocli " ; which is to say, " Go ; God give you evil speed ! Put the water in your wine when ye drink it, and not in your eyes ! " The English indeed delight in drink, and make it their business to drain full goblets ; for an Englishman will take a cup of wine and drain it, saying, "Ge bi: a vu," which is to say "It behoveth you to drink as much as I shall drink," and therein he thinketh to say and do great courtesy, and he taketh it exceeding ill if any do otherwise than he himself hath taught in word and shown by example. And yet he doth against the scripture, which saith, " ...Wine also in abundance and of the best was presented, as was worthy of a king's magnificence. Neither was there any one to compel them to drink that were not willing" (Esther, i. 7). Yet we must forgive the English if they are glad to drink good wine when they can, for they have but little wine in their own country. In the French it is less excusable, for they have greater plenty ; unless, indeed, we plead that it is hard to leave our daily wont. Note that it is thus written in verse, " Normandy for sea-fish, England for corn, Scotland [or Ireland ?] for milk, France for wine." 15 AN ENGLISHMAN'S PRIVILEGES Sir John Fortescue was born about 1394 and died about 1476: he became Chief Justice of the King's Bench in 1442. He adhered to the Lancastrian party, and accompanied queen Margaret into exile in 1463 At the end of this exile, about 1470, he wrote for Prince Edward his celebrated treatise De Laudibus Leji^um Anf^liae. The translation here used is that of Robert Mulcaster the educational reformer, first printed in 1573. Fortescue's slightly later work, On the Governance of the Kingdom of England, is no less important than the De Laudibus for English con- stitutional history. For Fortescue's influence on political thought in the 14,15 An Englishman s Privileges 31 17th and 1 8th centuries, see Dr C. J. A. Skeel's article in Transactions of the Royal Hist. Soc, third series, vol. x. (1916). The special value of his work is the contrast it marks between political and social life in Enf^land and France— a contrast true on the whole, though Fortescue very naturally exaggerates a good deal. I print from the edition of 1616. {d) (Ch. 9, p. 25 b.) For the king of Ehgland cannot alter nor change the lawes of his Realme at his pleasure. For why, hee governeth his people by power, not only royall, but also politique^ If his power over them were roial only, then he might change the lawes of his realme, and charge his subjects with Tallage and other burdens without their consent, and such is the dominion that the civill Law[s] purporte, when they say, The Prince his pleasure hath the force of a Law. But from this, much differeth the power of a King whose govern- ment over his people is politique, For he can neither change Lawes without the consent of his ' subjects, nor yet charge them with strange impositions against their wils. Wherfore his people do franckly and freely enjoy and occupie their own goods, being ruled by such lawes as they themselves desire, Neither are they pilled either of their owne king or of any other. Like pleasure also and freedome have the subjects of a king ruling only by power royal, so long as hee falleth not into tyrannye. Of such a King speaketh Aristotle in the third Booke of his Civill Philosophie, saying, that it is better for a Citie to bee governed by a good King, then by a good Lawe. But forasmuch as a King is not ever such a man, therefore Saint Thomas in the Booke, which hee wrote to the King of Cyprus, Of the governance of Princes, wisheth the state of a Realme to bee such, that it may not bee in the kings power to oppresse his people with tyrannie. Which thing is performed onely, while the power Royall is restrained by pov/er politique. Rejoice therefore, O soveraigne Prince, and bee glad, that the Lawe of your Realme, wherein you shall succeed, is such, for it shall exhibite and minister to you and your people no small securitie and comfort. With such Lawes (as saith the same St. Thomas) shoulde al man kinde have beene governed, if in Paradise they had not transgressed Gods commandement, ^ i.e. by conslitutional government. V' 32 Land and Folk i with such Lawes also was the Sinagogue ruled, while it served under God only as King, who adopted the same to him for a peculiar kingdome. But at the last, when at their request they had a man king set over them, they were then under ro}all Lawes onely brought very lowe. And yet under the same Lawes, while good Kings were their Rulers, they lived wealthily; and when wilfull and tyrannous Kings had the government of them, then they continued in great discomfort and misery, as the booke of Kings doth more plainly declare. {b) (Ch. 1 8, p. 39 b.) Now whether the statutes of England be good or not, that onely remaineth to bee discussed. For they proceed not only from the Princes pleasure, as doe the lawes of those kingdomes that are ruled onely by regall governement, where sometimes the statutes doe so procure the singular commodity of the maker, that they redound to the hinderance and dammage of his subjects. Sometimes also by the negligence and 'oversight of such princes, and their sleight regard, respecting onely their owne commodities, they are so unadvisedly made, that they are more worthy to have the name of disorders, then of well ordered Lawes. But statutes can not thus passe in England, for so much as they are made not only by the Princes pleasure, but also by the assent of the whole Realme: so that of necessitie they must procure the wealth of the people, and in no wise tende to their hinder- ance. And it cannot otherwise be thought but that they are replenished with much wit and wisdome, seeing they are ordained not by the devise of one man alone or of a hundred wise Councellers onely, but of moe then three hundred chosen men, much agreeing with the number of the ancient Senatours of Rome : as they that know the fashion of the Parliament of England, and the order and manner of calling the same together, are able more distinctly to declare. And if it fortune these Statutes, beeing devised with such great solemnity and witte, not to fall out so effectually as the intent of the makers did wish, they may bee quickely reformed, but not without the assent of the commons, and states of the Realme, by whose authority they were first devised. {c) (Ch. 35, p. 78.) Call to remembrance, most worthy 15 An EngUsliman s Privileges 33 Prince, after what sort you sawe the wealthy Villages and Townes (as touching store of Corne) in the Realme of Fraunce, while you were there a sojourner, pestered with the Kings men at armes and their horses, so that skant in any of the great townes there you could get any lodging. Where, of the inhabiters you learned, that those men, though they continue in one village a moneth or two, doe not, nor will paye any thing at all, either for their owne charges, or for the charges of their horses ; but, which is worse, they compelled the inhaby- tants of the Villages and towne dwellers, when ther they came, to provide of their owne proper costes, out of the villages adjoyning, wine and flesh for them, and other thinges that they needed, at dearer prices, then they might have bought the same at home. And if any refused thus to doe, they were anonne by plaine Stafford Law^ forced to do it : And when they had spent all the victuals, fewell^, and horsemeat, in one towne, then those men went to an other *towne, wasting the same in like manner, not paying one penie for any necessaries, either for themselves or else for their concubines and harlots, whereof they ever carried about with them great abundaunce, nor for hosen or shooes, and other like, even to the lest point or lace ; but they compelled the townsmen where they tarried to beare al their expenses. And thus were al the villages and unwalled townes of the land used, so that there is not the least village there, free from this miserable calamity, but that it is once or twise every yere beggered by this kinde of pilling. Furthermore the King suffreth no man to eate salt within his kingdome, except hee buy it of the king, at such price as pleaseth him to assesse. And if any poore man had rather eat his meat fresh then to buy salt so excessively deare, he is immediatly compelled to buy so much of the kings salt at the kings price, as shall suffice so many persons as he keepeth in his house. Moreover, al the inhabiters of the realme give yerely to the king the iiij. part of all the wines that their grounds beareth : and every Vintener the fourth peny of the price of the wine that he selleth. And besides all this, every ^ A punning proverbial phiase, "under threat of beating." 2 fuel. 34 Land and Folk i village and borough paieth yerely to the king great summes of mony assessed upon them for the wages of men at armes, so that the charges of the kings army, which is ever very great, is maintained by the poore people of the villages, boroughes, and townes of the realme. And yet moreover, every village findeth continually ij. Crossebowes at the least, and some moe, with al furniture and habiliments, requisit for the kings service in his wars, as oft as it pleaseth him to muster them, which he doth very oft. And, these things not considered, other exceeding great tallages are yerely assessed upon every village of the same realme to the kings use, wherof they are no yere relesed. The people, being with these and divers other calamities plaged and oppressed, doe live in great misery, drinking water daily, neither do the inferior sort tast any other licor, saving only at solemne feasts. Their shame wes^ are made of hemp, much like to sackcloth. VVoUen cloth they weare none except it be very course, and that only in their coates under their said upper garments ; neither use they any hosen, but from the kne upward : the residue of their legs go naked. Their women go barefoot saving on holidaies ; neither men nor women eate any flesh there, but only larde of bacon, with a smal quantity whereof they fatten their pottage and broths. As for rosted or sodden meat of flesh they taste none, except it be of the inwards sometimes and heades of beastes, that be killed for gentlemen and marchants. But the men at armes, they devoure and consume all their pulleine, so that they have scant the egges left to eat for special dainties. -And if they fortune at any time to grow some what welthy in substance, so that any of them bee counted rich, hee is by and by charged to the Kings Subsidie more deepely then any of his neighbors, so that within short time he is made equall in poverty with the rest of his beggerly neighbours. And this, as I suppose, is the state of the comon and rascall people of that nation. But Gentlemen and Nobles are not so oppressed, and overcharged with exactions. But if any of them chaunce to be accused of any crime, though it be by his enemies, he is not ever wont to be cited or called ' short gowns. 15 An Englishman s Privileges 35 before an orclinarie Judge : but many times it hath beene seene, that he hath in that behalfe beene talked with in the Kinges Chamber, or elsewhere in some private place, and sometimes onely by a Pursevant or Messenger: and immedi- ately as soone as the Princes conscience hath, through the report of others, judged him guiltie, hee is without any fashion of judgement put in a Sacke, and in the night season by the Marshalls servants hurled into a River, and so drowned. After which sort you have heard of many moe put to death, then that have beene by ordinarie processe of the Lawe condemned. Howbeit the Princes pleasure, as say the Civill lawes, hath the force of a Lawe. Also, while you were abyding in Fraunce, and nigh to the same Kingdome, you hearde of other great enormyties like unto these, and some much worse then these detestable and damnable, done no otherwise but under the colour of that Lawe, which heere to rehearse would continue our talke too long a time. Now therefore, let us see, what the effecte of the Law politique and Regal, which some of your progenitors would have charged into this civill, hath wrought in the Realme of Englande ; that you, being instructed with the experience of both Lawes, may the better by their effectes judge whether of them ye ought rather to choose, seeing the Philosopher, as afore is rehersed, doth say, that contraries laid together do more perfectly appeare. Within the Realme of England, no man sojorneth in an other mans house, without the love and the leave of the good man of the same house : saving in common Innes, where, before his departure thence, he shall fully satisfie and pay for all his charges there. Neither shal he escape un- punished, whosoever he be, that taketh another mans goods without the good will of the owner thereof Neither is it unlawfull for any man in that Royalme to provide and store himself of salt, and other merchandises, or wares, at his owne will and pleasure, of any man that selleth the same. Howbeit, the King, though the owners would say nay, may by his Officers take necessaries for his house, at a reasonable price, to bee assessed by the discretions of the Constables of the towns : Neverthelesse, he is bound by the Lawes to pay there- 36 Land and Folk i fore, either presently in hand, or else at a day to bee limited and set by the higher Officers of his house: for by his Lawes hee may take away none of his Subjectes goods, without due satisfaction for the same. Neither doth the King there, either by himselfe or by his Servants and Officers, levie uppon his subjectes Tallages, Subsidies, or any other burdens, or alter their laws, or make newe Lawes, without the expresse consent and agreement of his whole Real me in his Parliament. Where- fore every inhabiter of that Realme useth and enjoyeth, at his pleasure, all the fruites that his lande or cattcl beareth, with al the profits and commodities which, by his owne travell, or by the labour of others, hee gaineth by lande or by water : not hindered by the injurie or wrong detainement of any manne, but that hee shall bee allowed a reasonable recompence. And heereby it commeth to passe, that the m.en of that Land are rich, having aboundaunce of Gold and Silver, and other things necessarie for the mainetenance of mans life. They drinke no water, unlesse it bee so that some, for devotion and upon a zeale of pennance, doe abstaine from other drinke. They eate plentifully of all kindes of flesh and fishe. They weare fine wollen cloth in all their apparel. They have also aboundance of bedde coverings in their Houses, and of all other wollen stufife. They have great store of all hustlements^ and implemcntes of householde. They are plentifully fur- nished with al instruments of husbandrie, and all other things that are requisite to the accomplishment of a quiet and wealthie life, according to their estates and degrees. Neither are they sued in the Law, but only before ordinarie Judges, where by the Lawes of the Land they are justly intreated. Neither are they arrested or impleaded for their moveables or possessions, or araigned of any offence criminall, bee it never so great and outragious, but after the Lawes of the Lande, and before the Judges aforesaid. And these are the fruits, which, governement politique and regall conjoyned, doth beare and bring foorth : whereof now appeare evidently unto you the experiences of the effects of the Law, which some of your progenitors travelled to abolish. Before, also, you saw 1 furniture. 15, 1 6 An Englishman s Privileges 2)7 plainly the effectes of the other Lawe, which they with such earnest endevour laboured to advance and place in steade of this Lawe; so that, by the fruites of them both, you may know what they are : and did not ambition, riot, and wanton lust, which your said progenitors esteemed above the wealth of the Realme, moove them to this alteration. 16 AS OTHERS SEE US The Italian Relation of England (Camden Soc, 1847) is a private report drawn up by the Venetian envoy for the information of his govern- ment, about 1500 A.D. I extract from it such portions as seem best calculated to correct or complement Fortescue's too rosy descriptions. The translation is that of the Camden Society Editor, with few alterations. The narrator, however, falls into demonstrable exaggerations on his side. (p. 20 ff ) The English are, for the most part, both men and women of all ages, handsome and well-proportioned ; though not quite so much so, in my opinion, as it had been asserted to me, before your Magnificence went to that king- dom ; and I have understood from persons acquainted with these countries, that the Scotch are much handsomer; and that the English are great lovers of themselves, and of every- • thing belonging to them ; they think that there are no other men than themselves, and no other world but England ; and whenever they see a handsome foreigner, they say that " he looks like an Englishman," and that " it is a great pity that he should not be an Englishman "; and when they partake of any delicacy with a foreigner, they ask him, "whether such a thing is made in his country?" They take great pleasure in having a quantity of excellent victuals, and also in remain- ing a long time at table, being very sparing of wine when they drink it at their own expense. And this, it is said, they do in order to induce their other English guests to drink wine in moderation also ; not considering it any inconvenience for three or four persons to drink out of the same cup. Few people keep wine in their own houses, but buy it, for the most part, at a tavern ; and when they mean to drink a great deal, they go to the tavern, and this is done not only by the men, but by ladies of distinction. The deficiency of wine, however, is amply supplied by the abundance of ale and beer, to the 38 Land and Folk i use of wliich these people are become so habituated, that, at an entertainment where there is plenty of wine, they will drink tiiem in preference to it, and in great quantities. Like discreet people, however, they do not offer them to Italians, unless they should ask for them; and they think that no greater honour can be conferred, or received, than to invite (3thers to eat with them, or to be invited themselves; and they would sooner give five or six ducats to provide an entertain- ment for a person, than a groat to assist him in any distress. They all from time immemorial wear very fine clothes, and are extremely polite in their language; which (although it is, as well as the Flemish, derived from the German) has lost its natural harshness, and is pleasing enough as they pronounce it. In addition to their civil speeches, they have the incredible courtesy of remaining with their heads un- covered, with an admirable grace, whilst they talk to each other. They are gifted with good understandings, and are very quick at every thing they apply their minds to ; few, however, excepting the clergy, are addicted to the study of letters ; and this is the reason why any one who has learning, though he may be a layman, is called by them a Clerk. And yet they have great advantages for study, there being tv\o general Universities in the kingdom, Oxford, and Cambridge; in which are many colleges founded for the maintenance of poor scholars. And your Magnificence lodged at one named Magdalen, in the University of Oxford; of which, the founders having been prelates, so the scholars are also ecclesiastics. The common people apply themselves to trade, or to fishing, or else they practise navigation ; and they are so diligent in mercantile pursuits, that they do not fear to make contracts on usury. Although they all attend Mass every day, and say many Paternosters in public, (the women carrying long rosaries in their hands, and any who can read taking the office of our Lady with them, and with some companion reciting it in the church verse by verse, in a low voice, after the manner of churchmen,) they always hear mass on Sunday in their parish church, and give liberal alms, because they may not offer less 1 6 As Others See Us 39 than a piece of money, of which fourteen are equivalent to a golden ducat [i.e. a groat]; nor do they omit any form incumbent upon good Christians; there are, however, many who have various opinions concerning religion. (p. 28.) The riches of England are greater than those of any other country in Europe, as I have been told by the oldest and most experienced merchants, and also as I myself can vouch, from what I have seen. (p. 29.) But above all are their riches displayed in the church treasures ; for there is not a parish church in the kingdom so mean as not to possess crucifixes, candlesticks, censers, patens, and cups of silver; nor is there a convent of mendicant friars so poor, as not to have all these same articles in silver, besides many other ornaments worthy of a cathedral church in the same metal. Your Magnificence may therefore imagine what the decora- tions of those enormously rich Benedictine, Carthusian, and Cistercian monasteries must be. (p. 30.) I saw, one day (being with your Magnificence at Westminster, a place out of London) the tomb of the Saint King Edward the Confessor, in the church of the aforesaid •place Westminster; and indeed, neither St Martin of Tours, a church in France, which I have heard is one of the richest in existence, nor any thing else that I have ever seen, can be put into any sort of comparison with it. But the magnificence of the tomb of St Thomas the Martyr, Archbishop of Canter- bury, is that which surpasses all belief This, notwithstanding its great size, is entirely covered over with plates of pure gold ; but the gold is scarcely visible fi'om the variety of precious stones with which it is studded, such as sapphires, diamonds, rubies, balas-rubies\ and emeralds; and on every side that the eye turns, something more beautiful than the other appears. And these beauties of nature are enhanced by human skill, for the gold is carved and engraved in beautiful designs, both large and small, and agates, jaspers and corne- lians set in relievo, some of the cameos being of such a size, that I do not dare to mention it: but everything is left far behind by a ruby, not larger than a man's thumb-nail, which ^ a delicate rose-red variety of ruby. 40 Land and Folk i is set to the x\^\\. of the altar. The church is rather dark, and particularly so where the shrine is placed, and when we went to see it the sun was nearly gone down, and the weather was cloudy; yet I saw that ruby as well as if I had it in m)- hand ; they say that it was the gift of a king of France. The population of this island does not appear to me to bear any proportion to her fertility and riches, (p. 32.) They generally hate their present, and extol their dead sovereigns. Nevertheless they reject the Roman code of laws, and adopt those given to them by their own kings. Nor are proceedings carried on in this country by the deposition of any one, or by writing, but by the opinion of men, both in criminal and civil causes. And if any one should claim a certain sum from another, and the debtor denies it, the civil judge would order that each of them should make choice of six arbitrators, and when the twelve are elected, the case they are to judge is propounded to them : after they have heard both parties, they are shut up in a room, without food or fire, or means of sitting down, and there they remain till the greater number have agreed upon their common verdict. But, before it is pro- nounced, each of them endeavours to defend the cause of him who named him, whether just or unjust ; and those who cannot bear the discomfort yield to the more determined for the sake of getting out sooner. And therefore the Italian merchants are gainers by this bad custom every time that the}' have a dispute with the English; for, although the native arbitrators chosen by the English are very anxious to support the cause of their principal, before they are shut up, yet they cannot stand out as the Italians can, who are accustomed to fasting and privations, so that the final judgment is generally given in favour of the latter. This practice extends also to criminal causes, and any one may be accused of great and glaring crimes, and be put to the torture, though he may openly deny the truth of the accusation. But when the chief magistrate of the place has receiv-ed notice of any such male- factor, he causes him immediately to be thrown into prison, and then twelve men of that place are elected, who must decide according to their consciences, whether the prisoner i6 As Others See Us 41 has or has not committed the crime of which he is accused, and if the greater number vote that he has, he is considered to be guilty. He is not, however, punished at that time; but it is necessary that twelve other men should be chosen, who must hear the cause over again ; and if their verdict should agree with the former one, the days of the delinquent are brought to a close. It is the easiest thing in the world to get a person thrown into prison in this country; for every officer of justice, both civil and criminal, has the power of arresting anyone, at the request of a private individual, and the accused person cannot be liberated without giving security, unless he be acquitted by the judgment of the twelve men above named; nor is there any punishment awarded for making a slanderous accusation. Such severe measures against criminals ought to keep the English in check; but, for all this, there is no country in the world where there are so many thieves and robbers as in England ; insomuch, that few venture to go alone in the country, excepting in the middle of the day, and fewer still in the towns at night, and least of all in London. Such is the bad effect that has arisen from an excellent cause. • There are three estates in England, the popular, the military, and the ecclesiastical. The people are held in little more esteem than if they were slaves. (p. 35.) In another way, also, the priests are the occasion of crimes; in that they have usurped a privilege that no thief nor murderer who can read, should perish by the hands of justice ; and, when anyone is condemned to death by the sentence of the twelve men of the robe, if the criminal can read, he asks to defend himself by the book ; when, a psalter, or missal, or some other ecclesiastical book, being brought to him, if he can read it he is liberated from the power of the law, and given as a clerk into the hands of the bishop. But, notwithstanding all these evasions, people are taken up every day by dozens, like birds in a covey, and especially in London ; yet, for all this, they never cease to rob and murder in the streets, (p. 37.) And if the King should propose to ^ See Fortesciie's own testimony (Section XIV., no. 12) and Sir Thomas More's (Section VI., no. 8). 42 Land and Folk i change any old established rule, it would seem to every Englishman as if his life were taken from him; but I think that the present King Henry will do away with a great many, should he live ten years longer. I dare say that your Magnificence will have been surprised, when I stated that there was only one Chief Justice in the whole kingdom ; and will, perhaps, have imagined that I meant to imply that the Dukes of Lancaster, York, Suffolk, and many others dispensed justice in their own countries ; but these English noblemen are nothing more than rich gentlemen in possession of a great quantity of land belonging to the crown ; and any King who had several sons, or kins- men, and persons of merit, not only gave them great estates to enjoy, but also conferred upon them the titles of duke, marquess, or earl, assigning to each of them some small influence over the revenue of the place from which their title is derived ; as, for instance, 200 crowns per annum (40 /. sterling) are paid to the Duke of York, from the royal dues of the city of York; and the jurisdiction, both civil and criminal, and the fortresses remain in the hands of the Crown. It is, however, true that the Church of [Durham], which is on the borders of Scotland, has several castles in her own power, and exercises temporal jurisdiction, and coins some small pieces of money. 17 ENGLAND L\ CIVIL WAR Philippe de Commines is already of the Renascence ; he is a philo- sophic historian ; but unfortunately his remarks about England are too fragmentary for quotation with the following exception. (Book v. ad fin. Trans. M. Danett. 1596, p. 201.) (p. 201.) Thinke you that an unwise Prince, being accom- panied with fooles, can smell a far off how great a mischiefe division among his subjects is.? or beleeve that it can hurt him? or proceedeth of God? He eateth and sleepeth no whit the woorse for it ; he hath neither fewer horses in his stable, nor fewer robes in his wardrobe, but many mo companions. For he allureth men unto him by promises, and by parting among them the spoiles and offices of those whom he hath 1 6, 17 Eiigland in Civil War 43 banished ; he giveth also of his owne to win thereby fame and renowme; but, when he shall least thinke of it, God will raise up an enimie against him whom peradventure he never mis- trusted. Then will he waxe pensive, and suspect those whom he hath injuried, yea he will feare such as indeede owe him no evill will : yet notwithstanding he will not have his refuge to God in this extremitie, but seeke to redresse this incon- venience by force. Have we not scene in our daies examples heerof even among our next neighbors ? Have we not seene the late King of England Edward the fourth of that name, heire of the house of Yorke, utterly destroy the house of Lancaster, under the v/hich both his father and he had lived manyyeeres? Further, the said King Edward having done homage to King Henry the 6. being of the house of Lancaster, did he not afterward hold him prisoner many yeeres in the tower of London, the chiefe citie of the realme, where in the end he was put to death ? Commines goes on to tell the well-known story of the Wars of the Roses, with all the conspiracies and executions which attended them : after which he proceeds : In like maner we have seene of late the crowne of Spaine altered after the death of Dom Henry that last died. For the said Dom Henry had to wife the King of Portugales sister last deceased, by whom he had issue a goodly daughter, which notwithstanding succeeded not hir father, but was put from the crowne under colour of adulterie committed by hir mother. But the matter ended not without great contention and war: for the King of Portugale tooke part with his neece, and divers great Lords of Castile joined with him : }'et notwithstanding the said Dom Henries sister, wife to the son of Dom John King of Arragon, obtained the crowne and possesseth it yet at this day : and thus this partage was made in heaven, as divers others are. Further, you have seene of late daies the King of Scotland and his sonne, being thirteene yeeres of age, in battell the one against the other : the sonne and his faction prevailed, and the King was slaine upon the place. This King murthered his owne brother, and was 44 Land and Folk i i? charged with divers other crimes, namely the death of his sister and such Hke. You see also the Duchj' of Gueldres out of the right line, and have heard what impietie the Duke last deceased used against his father. Divers other examples I could rehearse which should manifestly appeere to be punishments and scourges of God, which scourges are the principall cause of wars, whereof insue mortality and famine, all the which evils proceede of lacke of faith. Wherefore I conclude, (considering the wickednes of men, especially of great men, who know not themselves, neither beleeve that there is a God,) that it is necessarie for every Prince and governor to have an adversary to keepe him in feare and humilitie, otherwise no man should be able to live under them or neere them. SECTION II BIRTH AND NURTURE 1 THE ANATOMY OF CHILDHOOD Bartholomaeus Anglicus, tr. Trevisa, Bk vi. c. 5, 6 (ed. 1536, f. 72 a). Of the little chylde. The chylcles fleshe that is newe borne is tendre, nesshe', quavy" and unsaddel Therfore dyvers remedies and fode ben necessary to the chylde, as saith Constantine li 3. capit. 32. And he say the, that chyldren that be newe borne shulde be swathed in roses grouned with salte, that theyr membres may be comforted, and delyvered, and clensed of cleymye'* moysture. Thanne the.roofe of the mouthe and gommes sholde be froted^ with ones finger wette in hony, to dense and comforte the inner party e of the mouthe, and also to excyte and to kyndle the chyldes appetyte with swetnesse of the hony. And he sholde be ofte bathed and anointed with [oil of myrtle or of roses], and al the limes shuld be anointid and rubbed with this oile, and namely the lymmes of males, the whiche bicause of traveyle ought to be more harde and sadde than the lymmes of females. And also it is nedefulle that they shulde be brought a-slepe in derke places, tyl theyr sighte be gadred'^' and joyned : For a place that is to bryghte, departeth and devydeth the syghte, and hurteth the small eyen, that be yet full tendre, and ofte maketh children to loke a squinte. And therfore they shold not be brought nor layde in to bright aier, leest the spirite of sight be dyvyded and departed. And of all thyng it nedeth to be ware of evill milke and of corrupted norysshinge and feding, that 1 soft. '■^ flaccid. •^ unsteadfasL ^ clammy. '•' rubbed. * gathered. 46 Birth and Niirtiire ii the chyldren be not fed therwith. For by unclennes of nourices, and suckinge of clammy milke lyke glewe, comen full many soores and groves, As whelkes, blaynes, pimples in the mouth, spewing, fevers, crampe, the flyxe', and suche other. And if the chylde be sykc, medicines shall be gyven to the nouryce, and not to the chylde. And she shall be ruled according to good diet, so that the virtue of the nouryce be in stede, supplye, and fulfyll the defaute of the chylde, as saith Con- stantine there. For of good disposicion of the milke cometh good disposicion of the chylde. And contrayre wyse. For of corrupte mylke of the nourice comen unkindly soores and greves in the chyldes litteli body. And that is by reason of the tendernes of the chyldes kynde, and also for the easy changing of mylk fode. And for tendernes the lim[m]es of the chylde may easely and sone bowe and bende and take dyvers shapes. And therfore chyldrens membres and lymmes ben bounde with lystes ^ and other covenable bondcs, that they ben not croked nother evyll shapen Children ben nesshe of flesshe, lethye^ and pliant of body, able and lyghte to moevynge, wytty to lerne. And lede theyr lyves without thoughte and care. And sette theyr courages onely of mirth and lykynge, and drede no perylles more than betynge with a rodde : and they love an apple more than gold. ...Whan they bene praysed, or shamed, or blamed they sette litteli therby. Through stiring and movynge of the heate of the flesshe and of humours, they ben lightly and soone wrothe, and soone pleased, and lightly they forgyv^e. And for tendernesse of bodye they ben soone hurte and greved. And maye not wel endure hard traveille. For moving of hote humours, whiche have the maystry in them, they mceve lightely and ben unstedfaste and unstable. Through great and strong heate they desyre moche meate. And so, by reason of superfluite of meate and of drynke, they falle ofte and manye tymes in to divers syknesses and ev}'lles. ^ flux. '^ bandages. " lithe. 1-3 The Father 47 2 THE FATHER Trevisa's Bartholomew, Bk vi. cap. 15. The fader is dyligent and besy, and lo[v]yth kindely his chylde, in so moche that he sparyth his owne mete to fede his chyldren. And that is generally forthe in all kynde of beastes, out-take fewe, in vvhome kynde gothe out of kynde, and therfore they ben not busy and carefuUe aboute theyr yonge, but they do beate theym awaye, as Aristotle libro 6. sayeth of the egle, that with his bylle and wynges beate and dryve away theyr yonge. A man loveth his chylde and fedeth and nouryssheth it, and setteth it at his owne borde whan it is wayned. And teacheth hym in his yougthe with speche and wordes, and chasteth hym with betinge, and setteth hym and putteth him to lerne under ward and kepynge of wardens and tutours. And the father sheweth hym no gladde chere, leste he waxe prowde; and he loveth mooste the sonne that is like to hym, and loketh ofte on hym. And gyveth to his chyldren clothynge, meate, and drynke, as theyr age requyreth, and purchaseth londes and herytage for his chyldren, and cesseth not to make it more and more.... The more the father loveth his chylde, the more busyly he teacheth and chastyseth hym and holdethe hym the more streyte under chastisynge and loore, and whan the chylde is mooste loved of the father it semeth that he loveth hym not: for he betyth and greveth hym ofte, lest he drawe to evyll maners and tatches\ and the more the child is like to the fader, the better the father loveth hym. The fader is ashamed, if he here any foule thing tolde by his chyldren. The fathers herte is sore greved, if his chyldren rebel a)-enst him. 3 INFANT DAMNATION R. of Brunne, Handfyfig Synne, E.E.T.S., 1901, p. 298, abbreviated. The theory of the damnation of unbaptized infants was not invented by Calvin, but was taught by St Augustine, and whole-heartedly accepted by all orthodox theologians throughout the Middle Ages. Ofte we here the lewed men seye That erre ful moche oute of the weye 1 faults. 48 Birth a7id Nurture n That of the Jewes seye sum oun, "They ne wote whether they be saved or noun"; But of sum prestes ys gretter tene^, That so of the Jewes also wene ; Certes, they are alle yn were'^, And yn the feyth they are not clere, For, shal never Jewe that deyeth Jewe, Of hevene blys have part ne prewe^ But he be crystened yn the holy gaste*, And yn the sacrament be ful stedfast. Lo, here a wurde to leve"' youre drede ! Yn the Gospel that we rede, That god Jhesu us alle techeth Thurgh seynt Mark, that hyt precheth, "He that beleveth and ys baptysed, He shal be saved, so ys dyvysed ; And he that beleveth nat, forsothe and ywys, Bothe body and soule, lore he ys." Loke howe ye mow be a-bawed®, That seye that the Jewe ys saved ! Gyf a chylde be dede bore — Thogh hyt were quyk yn wombe by fore — And, receyve nat the bapteme, Of hevene may hyt never cleme'; With-oute doute, beleve ye thys. That hyt shal never come to blys ; Ne peyne of hete, ne of colde, Hyt shal non fele, no ryght hyt wolde ; Hyt noght mysdyd, ne served wo, Ne to none shal hyt go; Thys ys pe)'ne with-outen- ende, Hyt shal never to Joye wende, Crete grace ys to them lent, That here receyve thys sacraments J misfortune. '^ error. ^' proof. * ghost. ' relieve. " abashed. " claim. * Thougli medieval theologians often explain, as here, that the lost iniants will suffer no actual bodily torment, yet most tliinking men, even then, must have 3 Infant Damnation 49 Y shal yow telle of a mydwyfe, That loste a chylde, bothe soule and lyfe. This mydwyfe whan the childe was bore, She helde hyt on here lappe before; And whan she sawe that hyt shulde deye, She bygan loude for to crye, And seyd " God and Seynt Jone Crysten the chylde, bothe flyssche and bone." Thys mydwyffe noghte elles seyde. And yn the cherche-yerde they wulde hyt have leyde As another chylde shulde he be That hade receyvede the solempte. The prest askede the mydwyffe, Gyfe hyt were cristenede whan hyt hade lyffc, And who hyt cristened, and on what manere And what was seyde, that any myghte here? The mydwyffe seyde unto the prest, "Thys herde they that stood me nest\ ' That God almyghty and seynt Joun Gyve the chylde cristendom yn flesshe and boun.'" Than seyd the preste, "God and seynt Jame Gyve the bothe sorow and shame, And Crystys malysun have thou for-thy. And alle the outher that were the by ! Yn evyl tyme were thou bore, For yn thy defaute, a soule ys lore," She was commaunded she shuld no more Come eftesones there chyldryn were bore. echoed the words which Bishop Fisher quoted appiovingly from Chrysostom : '■if one would think the grief of lo.coo hells, all that yet is nothing like to be excluded from that blessed countenance and to be hated of Christ" {Fisher'' s Englisk Works, E.E.T.S., Extra Series, 1876, p. 287: cf. 374 and 426, in both of which latter places the last six words are omitted, showing that Fishei thought them unessential). ^ next. C. Birtli and Nurture li 4 BAPTISMAL SCENES When a man of any property died, it was very important for the heir to prove that he was of full age, and therefore immune from the heavy burdens of wardship, &c. These proofs of age were made by the concurrent testimony of a number of neighbours and friends. In later times this evidence partook very much of the nature of " common form " ; *ee a very interesting article in The English Historical Review, vol. xxil. (1907), pp. loi, 526. But at the time to which the following extracts refer the evidence may be taken as genuine, or, at the very least, as probable, and therefore as almost equally significant for the social historian. They are from the 2nd and 7th volumes of the Calendar of Inquisitiones Post Mortem. Vol. II. p. 500 (19 Edw. I.). Philip Payfiel. John de C. says that the said Philip was born at Pyriton on the day of the Assumption about the first hour, 53 Hen. III., and was baptised in the baptistry of St Mary's Church, Pyriton, by Richard then Vicar, on the morrow at the morning hour. PhiHp Basset, uncle of the said Philip's mother, who was then at his manor of La Fasterne, being asked to be godfather, sent his friends Hugh de Courteney and John de Pyriton to lift him from the font and give him the name of the said PhiHp Basset, and Agnes then the wife of Roger de W. held him and was his godmother. He is certain of the time, for one John de Erie of Pyriton married one Emma at Hockday before the said Philip's birth, and the witness met him lead- ing his wife with a great company and struck one William Champeneys, who was very abusive, heavily on the head with a staff, for which he was sore amerced in the hundred [Court] of Worth, and made great pecuniary amends. Vol. II. p. 505 (20 Edw. I.). Roger A/ayn, alias Aleyn of PurscadeL Plenry le Chamberlang and others say the same, for at that time one Roger Cosyn, uncle of the said Roger, was rector of the church, and immediately after his birth wrote the date in the missal of the church, which they have often seen, and they say that on Monday after the Conception, 20 Edw. I., the said Roger was 22. 4 Baptismal Scenes 51 Vol. VII. p. 138 (2 Edw. III.). Robert de La Leg'i. "Walter de Ludeworth, aged 33 years, says as the said John ; and this he knows because a certain Walter Man had a daughter born, name Alice, and took the said Walter [de Ludeworth] with him to the aforesaid church of Wermuth, and caused him, then aged nine years, to lift the said daught«r from the sacred font, on the same 2nd November, and then and there he saw the aforesaid Robert baptised before the said Alice, whereby a long delay occurred, for which cause she wept, and he knows by the age of the said Alice, who survives, that the aforesaid Robert has completed the age of 24 years, as they have often computed among themselves. John de Hewith, aged 50 years, says the like, and knows it because on the same 2nd of November his sister Iseult died, whose death is inserted in the calendar of the church of Suthwermuth, and because on the 2nd of November 24 years will have elapsed. He then saw the said Robert baptised with great solemnity, the priest sprinkling the holy water excessively in his face and in his eyes from the sacred font, w'herefore he was angry for a long time with the aforesaid priest ; and therefore he well knows that the said Robert has completed the age of 24 years. Vol. VII. p. 194 (3 Edw. III.). Beatrice de Longevill nee de Has tang. John Lamb, aged 48 years, agrees, and knows it because he was present in the said church when John de Dalderbi, then bishop of Lincoln came there within a month after the said Beatrice was born, to confirm certain children, and there he saw her in the hands of the rector of the said church to be confirmed by the said bishop'. Vol. VII. p. 379 (7 Edw. III.). Richard Darches. Richard of A., aged 43 years, says the same, and knows it because on the day of his (the said Richard's) birth he * Confirmation was administered at any age by the medieval bishops ; and (as orthodox contemporaries frequently tell us) very irregularly. 4—2 52 Birth and Nurture ii brought the news to Margaret de la Rokaylle his aunt, and had for it a silk purse with half a mark. * Vol. vir. p. 385 (7 Edw. III.). Roger Dole, aged 50 years, says the like, and recollects it because his son Robert was buried at Reston, and there stood Thonnas Hildeyerd, to whom it was then announced that Emma his wife had brought forth the said Elizabeth, and for the news he promised him [Roger] the robe in which he was clothed. 5 PROOFS OF AGE It is of great social interest to sec how these proofs were made ; a typical series of testimonies is therefore appended here, from Calendar of Inqidsitiones Post Mortem^ vol. Vll. p. 457. William, son of William le Marchal of Kyngesianleye, Gloucester. Proof of age, 22 May, 8 Edivard III. He is 21 years and 6 weeks of age and more, and was born in the town of Kyngestanleye, and baptised in the church there, on Thursday in the feast of Rogations {sic), 2 Edward II. John Potelyn says he knows this, because on that Thursday, Alice, his daughter, died at Gloucester, and was buried at the church of St Oswald. John Clavyle says that, on the previous Wednesday, William de Tyderynton espoused Margery de Heygrave, his kinswoman, at Staverton by Gloucester. Gilbert le Carpenter says that on Saturday next after that Thursday, the bishop of Landaff came to Kyngestanleye, and consecrated a certain altar of St Katherine in the church there. William Despenser says that, on that Thursday, John de Feckenham, chaplain, was instituted in the church of Bradele. Thomas de Bacar says that on the Friday next following Agnes his wife was going to Gloucester, and in going by the way she fell, and broke her right leg. Hugh de Dodebrugg says that on the Monday next before that Thursday, Adam his son became a friar at the house of St Augustine of Oxoneford. Richard Thursteyn says that on that Thursday he and 4-6 Pj'oo/s of Age 53 several of his neighbours were robbed in the forest of Dene, between Gloucester and the abbey of Tynterne. Walter le Deyer says that on that Thursday John le Taverner, of Circestre, came towards his house by the way near the wood of Wetyndon, and met robbers, who killed the said John there, and robbed him of lo/. John le Gurnay says that on the previous Wednesdays Sir Richard, vicar of Ledeneye, his brother, was buried. John le Weler says that on the Friday following Elizabeth, his sister, fell into a certain marlpit, within her close near Leyecroft, and broke her neck. Richard Pynnock says that on that Thursday he lifted from the font in the church of Kyngestanleye John, son of William Despenser, who was baptised in the same water in which the said William was baptised. 6 DECAYED SCHOOLS Macaulay, arguing in 1847 before the House of Commons in favour of compulsory state education, had to meet the plea that voluntarism "will do all that is necessary, if we will only wait with patience." He retorted "wait with patience! Why, we have been waiting ever since the Hep- taVchy." His allusion was probably to the decree of the council of Cloveshoe in 747 which has sometimes been interpreted as implying a national system of education, though, in fact, it was only an attempt to combat the ignorance prevailing in the majority of monasteries. Though medieval grammar-schools were far more numerous than was supposed before A. F. Leach began his researches, they were always iriegularly spaced and their existence was precarious. The best illustration of this may be found in the petition of William Byngham, a London priest, to Henry VL in 1439. Byngham begged leave to found at Cambridge a college called "God's House," on the following plea : the whole document is printed in A. F. Leach, Educational Charters and Documents, 191 1, p. 402. " The Clergie of this youre Reaume...is like to be empeired and febled by the defaute and lak of Scolemaistres of Gramer, in so moche that [the founder, William Bingham] hath founde in [your] Lande, ouer the est partie of the w^y ledyng from [Southjhampton to Coventre, and so forth no ferther north than Rypon, LXX Scoles voide or mo, that weren occupied all at ones within L yeres passed, whereof as now ben almost none, nor none mowen be hade in your Universitees over those that nedes most ben occupied still there." 54 Birth and Nttriure ii 7 AN OLD ENGLISH SCHOOL Aelfric was Abbot of Evesham, and wrote his Dialogue about the year l,ooo ; see A. F. Leach, Educatiotial Charters and Docuj/ients, 191 1, pp. xvi, 36. It is possible that the personnel of our early schools was not always so miscellaneous as Aelfric here represents ; his object was to bring into his Dialogue as many useful words and phrases as possible ; but there is a general verisimilitude in his descriptions. The text may be found in full in Wright and Wiilckei-'s A.-S. Vocabularies, 1884, I. 88 : long extracts are translated by Leach, I.e. 36. Disciple. We boys beseech thee, O master, teach us to speak Latin rightly ; for we are unlearned, and speak cor- ruptly. Master. What will ye speak .? D. What care we, so that we only speak rightly, not basely or in old wives' fashion.-' AI. Will ye be flogged in your learning? D. We love rather to be beaten for learning's sake than to be ignorant ; but we know that thou art a kindly man, who will not beat us unless we compel thee. M. I ask thee, then ; what sayest thou ? what is thy daily work } D. I am a professional monk, and I shall sing daily my seven services with the brethren, and am busy with reading and psalmod)' ; yet in the mean time I would fain learn to speak in the Latin tongue. M. And these thy fellows, what know they ? D. Some are ploughers, others shepherds, some are cowherds and some also are hunters, fishers, fowlers ; some are mer- chants or cobblers or salters or bakers in this place. [Each then describes his own daily occupation, the monk last of all, adding : " and now we stand here before thee, ready to hear what thou wilt say to us."] M. When will ye sing vespers or compline ? D. When the time is come. M. Hast thou been beaten [in the monastery] to-day ? D. No, for I kept myself cautiously. M. And thy fellows? D. Why dost thou question me of this matter? I dare not reveal our secrets unto thee ; each knoweth in his own heart whether he have been beaten or not... M. Where sleepest thou? D. In the dormitory, with the brethren. M. Who waketh thee for the night-services ? D. Sometimes I hear the bell and arise ; but sometimes m}' master arouseth me harshly with a rod. 7, 3 The ScJioobnaste7' s Ath'ibutes 55 S THE SCHOOLMASTER'S ATTRIBUTES Matthew Stokys or Stokes, born at Eton and afterwards fellow of King's, became Esquire Bedell and Registrary. The University Register from 1 53 1 onwards is in his writing, and perliaps from as early as 1523. He compiled an invaluable memorandum-book of University customs, extracts from which are printed in Dean Peacock's Observations on the Statutes of tJie University of Cambriiigc^ 1841. In medieval, as in Roman, law, an office was always conferred symbolically by the handing over of some visible sign ; e.g. the pallium, ring and crosier which figure so largely in the Investiture controversy. The Master of Arts received his cap on this occasion, the Master of Grammar, as will be seen, his "palmer" (for application to the erring boy's hand) and his birch. The enterying of a Master in Gramer. The Bedyll shall sett the Masters of Gramer to the Fathers place at vij of the Clocke, or betwene vii or eyght. Than the Father shal be brought to Saynt Mary Chyrch to the Masse beg)'nyng at viij'^ of the Clocke: he shall cume behynde, and hys eldyst sonne nexte h)'m on hys ryght honde, lyke as is sayde afore of the Inceptours in Arte. When masse is done, fyrst shall beg}n"ine the acte in Gramer. The Father shall have hys Sete made before the Stage for Physyke, and shall sytt alofte under the Stage for Physyke^ The Proctour shall say, Incipiatis. Whan the Father hath arguyde as shall plese the Proctour, the Bedyll in Arte shall bring the Master of Gramer to the Vicechauncelar, delyvering hym a Palmer wyth a Rodde, whych the Vycechauncelar shall ^y\t. to the seyde Master in Gramer, and so create hym Master^ Than shall the Bedell purvay for every master in Gramer a shrewde Boy, whom the master in Gramer shall bete openl}'e in the Scolys, and the 1 " St Mary's Church, and, during the time of its rebuilding from 1478 to i-;i9, the churches of the Austin and Grey Friars, were fitted up, during the celebration of these solemnities, with stages, li!;e a theatre, for the chancellor, noblemen and heads [of houses], for the doctors of the different faculties, for the regent and non-regent masters, for the different religious orders, witli places for the proctors, fatljcr, prevaricator, philosopher, and other actors in the proceedings of the day. This practice continued, with a gradual diminution of splendour and interest, until about the year 1740." "^ "This mode of creating masters in grammar, yi-rw/^ ei virgis, was followed in the University of Oxford. (Wood's Hist. Univ. Oxon. Lib. II. p. 4.) The statutes of the faculty of grammar in that university were the same as those of Cambridge, and were probably derived from some common source." 56 Birth and Nurture 11 master in Gramer shall give the Boye a Grote for hj^s Labour, and another Grote to hym that provydeth the Rode and the Palmer; etc. de singulis. And thus endythe the Acte in that Facult)e. Nota, That the Bell Ryngar shall provyde a Rodde and a Palmer for the Masters in Gramer, and he shall have of every master in Gramer for hys Labour iiij'^. Nota^ That the Inceptour in Gramer shall gyve to the Vice- chauncelar a Bonett, and to the Father and to eche off the Proctours a Bonett ; and iff there be but on Inceptour, he shall do thys ; and iff there be moo then on, then to pay thys emong them. 9 CO-EDUCATION Trevisa's Higden, vol. vii. p. 183. ... In these dayes [about 1050 A.D.] a famous clerk, Barbosus, was at Irland, and a man of wonderful reiigioun, so moche that he helde a greet scole of clerkes and lewed men and maydons ; but, for he schare^ the maydens in manere of his scolers, he was put out of Irlond. 10 THE DANGERS OF GRAMMAR Walsingham, Historia Brevis, R.S., vol. ll. p. 9 (a.d. 1381), speaking of Wat Tyler and his fellow-rebels. We must judge them by their works; for they slew the father of the whole clergy, the head of the English Church, the Archbishop of Canterbury. See too what they did against the faith; how they compelled masters of grammar schools to swear that they would never again teach grammar to children ! And what more.-* they strove to burn all ancient muniments, and slew all such as could be found capable of commemo- rating to posterity either ancient records or modern events ; it was perilous to be recognized as a clerk, and far more perilous if any were caught bearing an inkhorn at his side. This attitude of the rebellious commons towards learning may be illustrated by that of the extremists among the governing classes, as recorded in the parliamentary proceedings of subsequent jears. 1 i.e. made them adopt the clerical tonsure. 8-1 o The Dangers of Grammar 57 {a) A.D. 1388 (Knighton, R.S. 1S95, vol. 11. p. 298). [At this parliament of Cambridge,] new statutes were published for the profit of the common people, and many which had been published in the reign of Edward III. were renewed, concerning labourers, artificers, servants.... For in those days there grew up among the common people such pride in divers fashions of dress and ornament that scarce one of the people was distinguished from another by splendour of dress or adornment. The poor differed not from the mighty, the needy from the rich, the serf from his lord nor the priest from his flock ; but each imitated another and strove to bring in some newer guise and to surpass his betters in pride of dress or ornament.... These Statutes (i) reinforced the Statutes cf Labourers, and (ii) added (p. 302): Item, it is ordained and agreed that all such as have been wont to labour at plough or cart, or other work or service of husbandry, up to the age of 12 years, that such do abide henceforward in the aforesaid labour, without being put to any trade or craft ; and if any covenant of apprenticeship be made in contravention of this, let it be null and void. {b) A.D. 1 39 1 {Rotuli Parliamentorum, vol. ni. p. 294). § 39. Item, the Commons pray the King that it may please him to ordain... that no serf or villein henceforward put his children to school, in order to procure their advancement by clergy; and this we beseech in maintenance and salvation of the honour of all free men in the kingdom. Responsio. Le Roi s'avisera'. (f) Statutes of .the Realm, 7 Henry IV. Let no man or woman, whatsoever be their estate or con- dition, set their son or daughter, of whatever age, to serve as apprentice to any trade or work within the Cities or Boroughs of this realm, unless he have land or rent to the value of twenty shillings a year at least ; but let the children be set to serve at the same labour as their parents have used, or to other labours as their estates require, under pain of a year's imprisonment, ^ i.e. the petition is rejected or shelved. 58 Birth and Nurture II and fine or ransom at the King's will. Provided however that every man or woman, of whatsoever estate, be free to set their son or daughter to learn letters at any school which may please them within this realm. 11 UNIVERSITY ORIGINS {a) Oxjord (if we are to accept Dr Rashdall's extremely probable hypothesis) developed from a local school to a real University in con- sequence of the following royal edict of about 1165 recalling all English clerks (which would include scholars) from abroad. The text is in Materials for the History oj Abp Thomas Becket, R. S., vol. i. p. 54. Let all clerks who have revenues in England be warned to come back to England, as they love their revenues, there to enjoy the same ; and, if they return not within this term, let their said revenues be confiscated to the royal treasury. Let this be done throughout all the counties of our realm. {b) Cambridge^ Roger of Wendover, R. S., vol. ll. p. 51. About this same time [a.D. 1209] a certain clerk who was studying in Arts at Oxford slew by chance a certain woman, and, finding that she was dead, sought safety in flight. But the maj'or and many others, coming to the place and finding the dead woman, began to seek the slayer in his hostel which he had hired with three other clerks his fellows ; and, not finding the guilty man, they took his three fellow-clerks afore- said, who knew nothing whatsoever of the homicide, and cast them into prison ; and, after a few days, at the king's bidding but in contempt of all ecclesiastical liberties, these clerks were led out from the city and hanged. Whereupon some three thousand clerks, both masters and scholars, .departed from Oxford, so that not one of the whole University was left; of which scholars some pursued their study of the liberal Arts at Cambridge, and others at Reading, leaving Oxford utterly empty. IO-I2 The Model Shuient 59 12 THE MODEL STUDENT The ideal student is described in a 14th cent, statute of University College, Oxford, quoted by Mr Hulton on p. 29 of his Rixae Oxonienses, 1892. It was hoped that this College would prove itself "a society of clerks living honourably in a manner befitting saints, not fighting or using scurrilous or low words, not reciting, singing, or willingly hearing songs or tales of an amatory or indecent nature, not taunting or provoking one another to anger, and not shouting so as to disturb the studies and repose of the industrious." The actual Oxford and Cambridge student is por- trayed in lifelike detail by Dr Rashdall in the second volume of his Universities of Europe, and by Prof. R. S. Rait in his little monograph Life in the Medieval University. Here, so far as our space permits, we have collected instances of the two extremes of student life at Oxford and Cambridge, where contrasts were perhaps more strongly marked between rich and poor, and between the boy of 13 or 14 and the well-to-do rector or canon of mature age, than even in other departments of medieval life. Of St Edmund Rich (Archbishop of Canterbury and patron saint of St Edmund's Hall, Oxford, and of many modern Roman Catholic schools and colleges), there is an excellent description in Green's Short Histoiy. Dr Rashdall has claimed, with much reason, that no equal to St Edmund, intellectually and morally, sat upon the throne of Canterbury until the appointment of Abp Temple. The following extract is from Trevisa's Higden viii. 217, considerably abbreviated. From his firste childhod this used his wittes to the studie of godnes by occupacioun of gosthche lyvynge. In token therof he made his avow to Oure Lady ; by his moder counsaille he used the [shirt of] heyre, and faste every Friday to brede and to water, and used every Sonday and holy day to seie al the Sawter^ or he wolde dyne. In his childhood he lernede his gramere and was so disesed with the heedache that he hadde non hope to spede afterward in lore. His moder spak to hym and seide, "Sone, I trowe that the lewednesse and unsemeliche tonsure that thou usest is cause of thy woo"; thanne afterward he usede tonsure as a clerk, and was hool of al that woo. In a tyme he walked by hym self in a mede bysides Oxenforde, and a faire child appered to hym and seide, " Heyl my luf, I wondre that thou knowest me nought, and nameliche while I am alwey by thy side in scole and in other places ; therfore what thou seest in my forheede i-wrete, prynte it everiche 1 Psalter. 6o Birth and Ntirture ii nyght in tli}'n owne forheed." The writynge was " lesus Nazarenus rex Judeorum," that is "Jesus of Nazareth kyng of J ewes : " therafter he lerned to have oure Lordes passioun alwey in his inynde. Ones, for besynesse of a lessoun that he moste rede, he forgat it; than whan the day gan to spring the olde enemy bonde faste his hondes for he schulde nought blesse hym self, and he prayde in his herte, and the enemy fil' doun from hym bytwene the bed and the wal. They- he were nought infra sacros' he was a maister of aart, and usede to here a masse and seie his houres everiche day or he wolde rede, and was profitable to his scolers, for he taughte them to here masse also. Whan he feng^ money of his scolers he leyde it in a wyndowe, and seide " Pouder to pouder and askes^ to askes ; " but the money was ofte i-take awey with his felawes in game, other elles priveliche with theofes. Whanne he redde arithmetic his moder that was deed appered to hym in his sleep and axede hym and seide, " What figures beeth thees that thou studiest ynne?" and he answerde, "Such and suche," and than sche peynted thre cercles in her right hond, as they sche wolde men[e] the Fadir and Sone and Holy Goost, and seide, " Sone, studie thou in these figures after this tyme." Seelde he sat in chirche, but he badde his bedis stondynge other knelynge ; ffor he was a nobil prechour, a scharp arguer, and a mylde lyst[en]er. For greet knelynge his kneen were harde as the sooles of his feet. Everiche day he seide thre payre of matyns and of houres of the day, of oure Lady, of the Holy Gost, with Placebo and Dirige. A-nyght after his firste sleep he wolde aryse and seie certeyn psalmes and prayers. Yif eny envious word come in place, he wolde chaunge the theme, and passe to the betir matire; he wolde have no bene- fice with cure, but oon. The tyme of etynge and slepynge and rydynge, whanne he myghte noughte studie, he tolde hit al y-lost. As ofte as he openede his bibel he wolde wor- schippe hit with a cros. And in the heyres that he werede unnethe® myghte eny worme be y-founde. Hym schamed nought to drawe of his owne hosen and schoon. Everiche man that he mette in the way that wolde be schryve[n] to ' fell. - though. * in Holy Orders. * took. * ashes. *• scarcely. 12, 13 The Model Student 61 hym, he wolde light doun of his hors and hire his schrifte, and spare for no lette of corny nge to his in, neyther for wynde ne for rayn ne for other wedir. He ferde as the olyve tree that holdeth to itself the bitternesse in the rynde, and heldeth' out to the other the svvetnes of the oyle, so he was hard to hym- self and esiliche and goodliche to other men. He beet his brest ofte with his hond, and his knees agenst the grounde so tliat clerkes that leye in selers under hym myghte unnethe sleepe. For worschippe of oure Lady he worschipped alle wommen, but therby was he nevere i-wemmed-. 13 THE POOR SCHOLAR (a) St Richard of Chichester was born at Wych in Worcestershire, the son of well-to-do parents. He was studious from his childhood ; in youth, he pi-eferred his studies to an advantageous marriage which had been arranged for him. The rest here following is translated from John Cap- grave's life of the Saint in Ada Sanctorum Bolland., Ap. 3 (Ed. 1675, ^• p. 279). Richard therefore hastily left both [his father's] lands and the lady, and all his friends, and betook himself to the University of Oxford and then to that of Paris, where he learned logic. Such was his love of learning, that he cared little or nothing for food or raiment. For, as he was wont to relate, he and two companions who lodged in the same chamber had only their tunics, and one gown^ between them, and each of them a miserable pallet. When one, therefore, went out with the gown to hear a lecture, the others sat in their room, and so they went forth alternately ; and bread with a little wine and pottage sufficed for their food. For their poverty never suffered them to eat flesh or fish, save on the Sunday or on some solemn holy day or in presence of companions or friends ; yet he hath oftentimes told me how, in all his days, he had never after led so pleasant and delect- able a life. 1 poureth. ^ corrupted. ^ Cappa, a long garment fastened down the front, statutory for all clergy and therefore for university students. The university gown on the one hand, and the priestly cassock on the other, are lineally descended from the medieval cappa. See Rashdall, I.e. \l. 636 ff., where, however, "boots" (caligae) should be "hosen." 62 Birtk and Nurture ii {b) Statutes of the Realm, 22 Hen. VIII. c. 12 § 4. And be yt enacted by the aucthoryte aforsayde that Scolers of the Universities of Oxford and Cambrydge that goo about beggyng, not beyng aucthorysed under the Seale of the sayde Universities, by the Commyssary Chauncelloure or Vichancelloure of the same, and all and syngular Shyp- men pretendyng losses of theyre shyppes and goodes of the see goyng aboute the countrey beggyng vvythout suffycyent aucthoryte wytnessyng the same, shall be punysshed and ordered in maner and fourme as ys above rehersed of stronge beggers [i.e. § 3, "to be tyed to the end of a Carte naked and be beten wyth Whyppes thoroughe oute the same market tovvne or other place tyll his Body be blody by reason of suche vvhyppyng ; and after suche punysshement and whyp- pyng had, the person... shalbe enyoyned upon his othe to retourne forthevvyth wythout delaye in the nexte and streyght waye to the place where he was borne, or where he last dwelled before the same punysshement "]. 14 HARD WORK Adam Marsh is pleading that a meritorious young brother-friar, Walter of Maddeley, may be better furnished by the authorities with means for continuing his studies. An incident of this same Walter's life will be found below, Section XL, no. 7. By reason of which [neglect] he is compelled not only to exhaust his vital spirits by the vehemence of his studies, but also to wear out his bodily strength, day by day, by writing with his own hand ; though (as saith the prophet Job) his strength is not the strength of stones, nor is his flesh of brass. 15 BIBLE EDUCATION Ro°;er Bacon, Opus Tertinm, ed. Brewer, R. S., 1859, p. 54. Dr Rash- dall has given prominence to the startling fact "that the 'religious education' of a 'bygone Oxford,' in so far as it ever had any existence, was an inheritance not from the Middle Ages but from the Reformation. In Catholic Europe it was the product of the Counter-Reformation.'' Universities of Europe, ll. 701. Therefore [moral philosophy] should first be learnt, that men might know to what end and for what reasons they 14, 15 Bible Education 6 o work ; in order that such philosophy might become the rule of all human work, and that man might do naught but by this science. Wherefore all, from their youth up, are instructed by the Church in those things which pertain to faith. And we ought to be far better instructed in the know- ledge of Christ than we now are, from our youth up. For God's Law should be read to children, that they might ever grow accustomed to the truth of the faith, and especially the simplest and most moral books of the Old and New Testa- ment, even as some are now taught from Bibles in verse ; but it would be better that they should hear and construe the Gospels in prose, and the Epistles, and the Books of Solomon ; since that versified Bible mutilates everything, and is worthless. For man should first be taught in those things which pertain to the salvation of his soul, that he may grow ac- customed always to go on from good to better ; wherefore the Jews, in their youth, learn first of all the Law of God. Boethius also, in his De Disciplina Scolarhim, teacheth that boys should first be instructed in Seneca's works ; which he . therefore saith (as Bede expoundeth) because those are moral books, and boys should first learn from such as Seneca. Not thus are they now taught, but in the fables and insanities of Ovid^ and other poets, wherein all possible errors in faith and morals are set forth. ...Wherefore our youth conceive evil manners from their early days; and, when they have made ex- perience of these things, they increase more and more therein. ...Wherefore, seeing that the multitude knoweth nothing of this science [of morals] from their youth up, therefore men have minds darkened and blinded which can never grow except in vanities and falsehood, and in evil quibblings and a most plentiful lack of wisdom. Hence it is that the multi- tude of students neglect all that is fair and profitable in philosophical science, and philosophy is perishing among us. Nay, the very books of this science, by Aristotle and Avi- cenna, Seneca and Cicero and other writers, cannot be obtained without great expense, partly because their best books have 1 Ovid is perhaps the classic most frequently cited by medieval writers. 64 Birth and Nurture ii not been translated into Latin, and partly because no copy of their others can be found, even at great universities. 16 "BLACK SHEEP Anstey, Munimcnta Acadernica, R. S., vol. I. p. 320. This Oxford Statute of 1432 may be compared with the almost contemporary petition of the Commons against student-bandits, translated on p. 597 of my Medieval Garner. Dr Rashdall remarks that " there are historic battle- fields on which less [blood] has been spilt" than on Oxford High Street {I.e. II. 403). Item — seeing that the peace of this kindly [almae] Uni- versity is seen to be frequently broken by divers persons who, under pretence of being scholars, wait and lurk within the University and its precincts, but outside the Halls and under tutelage of no Principal — men known by the abominable name of " Chamberdeacons," who sleep all day and by night haunt the taverns and brothels for occasions of robbery and manslaughter — therefore it is decreed by the said University that all and every scholar do dwell in that Hall or College vv'herein his common contributions are registered, or in Halls thereunto annexed, which share with the aforesaid in commons or battels, under pain of imprisonment for the first offence. If, moreover, having been once admonished by the Chancellor or his Commissary, or by the Proctors, they neglect to transfer themselves to those abodes aforesaid, then let them be banished and cut off from the University, as rotten members thereof, within eight days. 17 UNIVERSITY DISCIPLINE Anstey, Mimiinenta Academica, R. S., vol. I. p. 304 (a.d. 1432). Item, seeing that the unbridled continuance here of exe- crable discussions, while multiplying vices and idleness, hath wellnigh blackened the fair manners, the famous learning and the sweet fragrant report of this University of Oxford ; seeing also that, in these days of ours, a money-fine is more teared than any other penalty, and the imposition of such a fine upon the offenders is accounted the readiest means of ending such troubles, therefore the Masters of this University in congrega- I .-- 1 7 University Discipline 65 tion have unanimously ordered and decreed that every man lawfully convicted of breaking the peace be mulcted of a sum of money, according to the quantity and quality of his offence, over and beyond all other accustomed penalties : viz. For threats of personal assault, 12^; for bearing arms contrary to the statutes, 2^; for drawing of weapons for violence or for thrusting with shoulder or striking with fist, 4^ ; for striking with stone or staff, 6^ 8^ ; for striking with knife, dagger, baselard or sword, with axe or any such weapon of war, lO^; for bearing a bow and shooting therewith with intent to harm, 20^ ; for assembling of armed or other persons, and conspiring or confederating against the execution of justice or to inflict bodily harm upon any man, 30^ ; for resisting the execution of justice, or night-walking, 40^ ; in addition to satisfaction for the party aggrieved. And we ordain that if any Master or Scholar, or any other person, do favour any other man's cause for that he is his fellow-country- man, or do withstand him for that he is of a different country \ or do give any manifest occasion whereby any quarrel between country and country may be like to arise ; or, again, if any he lawfully convicted of aiding and abetting the arousing or fomenting of such quarrel, he shall pay, over and above the wonted penalties for disturbers of the peace Here follows a long list of penalties graduated according to the offender's pecuniary circumstances, which shows that the authorities expect to find Masters and well-beneficed clergy among these lawbreakers. The records of actual trials, published by J. E. T. Rogers in Oxford City Documents (1891) and by Anstey in Muiiimenta Academica, show a startlingly large proportion of offenders among the senior members of the University. 1 This refers to the standing feud between North and South, the Trent being the rough boundary. An extremely interesting account of one of these fights in 1383, which lasted three days and cost much bloodshed, is related by the chronicler Adam of Usk (ed. Maunde Thompson, 1904, p. 7) and Knighton (R. S. H. 309). As Dr Rashdall says, the settlement of the dispute between the Northern and Irish scholars in Oxford in 1252 "reads like a treaty of peace between hostile nations rather than an act of university legislation " ; and the existing records of coroners' inquests show that, in practice, "nothing worse happened to [the majority of these Oxford homicides] than being compelled to go to Cambridge" {Univ. of Europe, II. 363, 083). 66 Birth and Nurture ii 18 CAMBRIDGE RIOTS C. H. Cooper, Atiuals of Cambridge, vol. I. The curious reader may refer also to the town and gown fight of 1261 A.D. {ibid. p. 48), the Peasants' Revolt at Cambridge (p. 120), the attack upon King's College in 1454 with "guns and habiliments of war" (p. 205), and the tight between the Prior of Barnwell and the Mayor (p. 277). p. 160 f 1418 A.D. Complaints of the Mayor, Bailiffs, and Commonalty \of Cambridge, to the King's Co2mcil\ II. That on the vigil of St. James the Apostle, many scholars, with the assent and at the excitation and abetting of the before mentioned persons, armed in a warlike manner, caused great terror to the mayor, by laying in wait to kill him and his officers, if they on that night had issued out of their houses ; and that when they perceived they could not effect their malicious purpose, they affixed on the mayor's gate a certain schedule, to his great scandal, and so that the mayor and burgesses dared not to preserve the peace. This schedule was in these terms : — BILLA POSITA SUPER HOSTIUM MAJORIS. CITATIO PEREMPTORIA. Tooke out here Maire with thie pilled ^ pate, And see wich a scrowe- is set on thie gate ; Warning thee of hard happes, For and it lukke thou shalt have swappes': Therefor I rede keepe the at home ; For thou shalt abey* for that is done ; Or els kest' on a coate of mayle ; Truste well thereto witliouten faile. And great Golias, Joh. Essex, Shalt have a clowte with my karille axe^ Wherever I may him have. And the hosteler Bambour, with his goat's beard. Once and it hap shal be made afeard, So God mote me save ! ^ bald. '■^ scroll. ^ blows. ■• abide the penalty. '' cast. * curtal-axe, cutlass. 1 8, 19 Cambridoe Riots 67 And yit with thie catchepoles hope I to meete, With a fellovve or tvvayne, in the playne strcete, And her gownes brake; And that harlot^ Hierman, with his calves snowte, Of buffets full sekerly shall bern a rowte'^ For his werkes sake. And yet shall Hankyn Attilbrigge Full yerne for .swappes his tayle wrigge, And it hap arith^ And other knaves, all on heape, Shall take knockes full good cheape, Come once winter nith. But nowe I praye to God Almyth, That whatsoever yowe spare, That metche sorowe to him bedith, And evill mote he fare ! Amen, quoth he, that beshrewed the Mair's very visage. 19 FORBIDDEN UNIVERSITY SPORTS . Tennis and all other ball-games were forbidden in the streets and within the college precincts; cf. the Statutes of King's College which will be found just below. The current legend as to the prohibition of marbles on the Senate House steps at Cambridge is doubtless a traditional dis- tortion of this early legislation. [ci) Anstey, Munivienta Academzca, R. S., vol. i. p. i8 (1250.'' A.D.). It is decreed and ordained that no feast of any nation* be henceforth celebrated in any church solemnly and with the accustomed assembly of Masters and Scholars or other acquaintance (except so far as any man desireth to celebrate devoutly the feast of some saint of his own diocese in the church of his own parish, but without inviting the Masters or Scholars or any other of his acquaintance from another parish, even as none such are invited on the feasts of St Catherine, St Nicholas, and so forth). We command also the observance of this [following] decree, with the authority of the Chancellor, under pain of the greater excommunication: that no [master ' rascal. ■^ bear a quantity. -^ aright. ^ i.e. North or South, Irish, Welsh, etc. 68 Birth and Nit7'turc ii or scholar] dance with masks, or with any noise whatsoever, in the churches or the streets, nor go about garlanded or crowned with a crown woven of leaves or the like, under pain of excommunication which we hereby pronounce, and of long imprisonment'. {b) ibid. I. 24 [1252?]. At least once in every year, let a general inquisition be made, by authority of the Chancellor, among the Principals and Manciples [of Halls] specially sworn for this occasion, concerning peacebreakers and public taverners and such as practise the game of buckler-play. {c) ibid. II. 526, A.D. 1442. The deposition of John ffelerd, servitor to Oliver Hore, sworn and examined concerning a breach of the peace between himself and William Bishop of St John's Hall.... He saith that he and his friend were communing together concerning the game vulgarly called swerd and bokelere, or pykyd staff, saying that such games come from merriment of heart; and, among other things, the said William said to this aforenamed John, sofft and jfayi'e! whereunto John made answer sofft and ffayre ynogh! Then William departed and brought back with him two scholars whose names are unknown, and the aforesaid William said unto the same John, "where is he who would fain play at this game aforesaid," adding, "where are the weapons?" "Here am I," replied John; "and here are the weapons"; and the said William with his fellows laid hold on the staff at one end, and the said John would have drawn it away by the other end. Then said the same William and his fellows, "Leave us the staff!" and he would not, but tore it with great force from them, and so he smote the said William even unto the shedding of blood 2; but before he smote him, a 1 Cf. the Statute of 1432 (p. 312) imposing a fine of 6^. on all Regent masters who wander about irreverently during mass or funeral services at the University Church. 2 And was therefore ipso facto excommunicate: see the decree of Innocent II. in Gratian's Dccretiim, Pars 11. Causa xvii. q. 4, c. i(y. "If any man, instigated by the devil, commit such a sacrilege as to lay violent hands upon a clerk or monk, let him l^e anathema, nor let any bishop presume to absolve him (except on his 19, 2o Forbidden University Sports 69 certain scholar coming with the said William drew out a knife called hangere, wherewith he would have smitten John ffelerd ; which John aforesaid was convicted of this [assault] before me Master John Kexby, chancellor of Oxford University. {d) ibid. II. 602. A.D. 1450, August 22, Thomas Blake, currier, William W'hyte, barber, John Karyn, glover, "husbundemen^" appeared before us, Master J. Beek, D.D. and Master Gilbert Kymer, Chancellor of this kindly \aluiae\ University of Oxford and Commissary General [of the Bishop of Lincoln], and with their hands on the holy Gospels abjured the game of tennis within the city of Oxford and its precincts. {e) ibid. 666. July 3, 1456, [ ] Medeley, for shooting by night at the proctor of the northern nation and his attendants, was con- victed and imprisoned ; he gave up his bow and paid twenty shillings. (/) ibid. 668. Aug. 7, 1457. Oweyn the Clerk, vicar of St Giles's Church, swore on the Gospels to keep the peace, gave up his club, and paid two shillings-. Three other accounts of celebrated Oxford brawls are translated in my Medieval Garner., pp. 286, 449, 450 ; and many more in Mr Hulton's Rixae Oxonienses, 1893, the best book on this subject. 20 LIFE IN A ROYAL COLLEGE The Statutes of Eton and King's College, Cambridge, give perhaps the best idea of later medieval school and college life, because they repeat and summarize all that had been most approved in previous legislation on the subject. The earliest complete English statutes (those of Merton, Oxford) exercised to the last a great influence upon all others, and deathbed) until he appear before the Pope and receive his mandate." The official commentator is careful to explain that the application of violent feet comes under the same category as violent hands. The law was so interpreted, however, as to permit the layman to use violence in self-defence ; this explains the drift of John's evidence. ^ Householders. - If we are to believe an emendation in the MS. the culprit here was not Vicar, but Parish Clerk of St Giles's. yo Birth and NiiriMve ii came to Cambridge through its first college, Peterhouse. (Rashdall. I.e. II. 484, 492, 560-1.) Wykeham's statutes for New College mark another definite step forward ; and King's was modelled on New College, as Eton was on Winchester. The following excerpts are translated from Kind's College and Eton College Statutes, ed. J. Heywood and T. Wright, 1850. (p. 21.) We ordain that all and several who are to be elected for the years of probation in our Royal College of Cambridge be poor and needy scholars and clerks, who have received the first clerical tonsure, adorned with good manners and conditions, and sufficiently taught in grammar^ (p. 67.) We ordain that, in fruitful years and times of abundance, when there is plenty of victuals in store, there shall be faithfully paid through the Bursars, for each scholar admitted to the three years of probation, and each perpetual fellow, and each chaplain ministering in the said chapel and residing personally in the same college on full commons, sixteen pence per week for commons.... And in years of greater dearth, when such shall befall, let these commons be proportionally and equally augmented, from the common store aforesaid, even to the sum of seventeen or eighteen pence, according to the quality and exigencies of the season, and the increased price of corn for the time being.... To every clerk or other servant and valet of the said King's College, personally residing therein, the bursar shall pay ten pence ; to every chorister and other groom or page of the said college, eight pence each for their weekly commons. (p. 71.) Item, that all and several fellows, scholars, chap- lains and clerks of our King's College aforesaid, sitting daily at table in their Hall, have the Bible publicly read in their presence [during the meal], or other writings of the holy Fathers and Doctors of the Church.... To which reading let all fellows, scholars, chaplains and clerks listen diligently, feasting in silence; nor let them in anywise impede such reading by verbosities, babblings, cries, laughter, murmurs, or other inordinate tumult. Moreover, when they happen to ^ Rashdall and A. F. Leach have shown conclusively that these words niii>t not be taken too literally; that our colleges were not founded for the very poor; and that from the first the scholars were mainly of the middle classes, and often of good family. 20 Life in a Royal College 71 speak one with another, whether in hall and at table or in their chambers, or chapel, or elsewhere within the said King's College,' or the precincts or garden thereof, let them speak in modest and courteous wise; and, if they be fellows or scholars, let them employ the Latin speech, unless the)- be constrained to some other idiom by the presence of strangers or layfolk, or by any other reasonable cause. Neither shall any one of them in any wise impede any other studying or wishing to study in the said King's College, nor keep him at sleep-time from sleep or rest, by games or tumults or noises, or by any other practices. (p. 72.) Moreover — seeing that, after bodily refection through food and drink, men are commonly rendered the more ready for buffooneries and indecorous speech, and (what is yet worse) for detractions and quarrels, and for the per- petration of many other perilous misdeeds, paying then less heed to such-like excesses than when they are on a fasting stomach, whereby they oftentimes move the minds of other simple folk to quarrels, revilings, and excesses — therefore we decree, ordain, and will that every day after dinner (and like- wise after supper on supper-days)\ after grace duly said for that which hath been received... then, without further delay, when the loving-cup hath been administered to all who wish to drink, and after the potations in Hall at the hour of curfew, let all the seniors, of whatsoever condition or degree, betake themselves to their studies- or to other places, nor let them suffer the juniors to tarry longer in Hall, save only on the principal holy-days, or when College Councils are to be held in Hall after the meal, or other arduous business touching the said Royal College ; or again when, in honour of God or of His Mother or of some other saint, the fellows are in- dulged with a fire in Hall at wintertide. Then it shall be lawful for the scholars and fellows, after dinner or supper, to make a decent tarrying in Hall for recreation's sake, with 1 There was no supper on ecclesiastical fast-days. * By this time the word stttdintn, among other senses, was sometimes used for the small wooden closets, like modem cubicles, which aftbrded fellows and scholars extra privacy within the larger chambers : see the 5lh extract here below. 72 Birth and Nurture ii songs and other honest pastimes ; and to treat, in no spirit of levity, of poems, chronicles of realms, the wonders of this world, and other things which are consistent with clerical propriety^ (p. 80.) We ordain that [our students] go not about alone^ without a fellow or scholar of the said King's College, or one of the common servants thereof, or some other com- panion of mature age and good character ; and let them walk modestly and without confusion — save only to processions, sermons, churches, or the Schools, for which purposes we permit them to go alone if they cannot well find such a com- panion. Further, we prohibit all and singular the fellows and scholars aforesaid from wearing red or green hosen, piked shoes^ or striped hoods, on any pretext, within or without the University : nor shall they wear swords or long knives or other offensive or even defensive arms, nor belts or girdles adorned with gold or silver, within the College or the University or the town of Cambridge, either publicly or privately, except for some necessary cause to be approved by the Provost, or by the Vice-Provost, Deans, and Bursars^ Furthermore we ordain that no scholar or fellow let his hair or beard grow ; but that all wear the crown and tonsure accordant to their order, degree, and condition, honestly and duly and decently^ (p. 83.) Since it befitteth not poor men, and specially such as live by charity, to give the children's bread unto dogs, 1 This clause is repeated almost verbatim in the Statutes of Eton College, and is, in fact, borrowed from Wykeham's ordinations for Winchester and New College, Oxford. Of the mirabilia mimdi here alluded to, a few specimens will be found in the last Section of this book ; the chronicles would mostly be popular com- pilations of the Higden type. " This rule of walking two and two is one of the many monastic customs introduced into college life. ''' Red and green cloths were the most expensive, and therefore most worldly ; the long pointed toes of fashionable shoes were a commonplace of later medieval satire. Heywood and Wright's text here has scecularibtis, by an obvious error for sotu'ia7-ibns. ^ It was permitted, for example, to travel armed to and from the University, for fear of robbers. * By the corotia the hair was cropped close to the ears and the nape of the neck ; by the ton^nra a small bald patch was made at the top ; but tonsura is often used for both operations. 20 Life in a Royal College 72) and we find it written elsewhere Vae sit eis in peccatinn, qui in avibus coeli hidunt^, therefore we command, ordain and will that no scholar, fellow, chaplain, clerk, or servant whatsoever to the said King's College, do keep or possess dogs, hunting or fishing nets, ferrets, falcons, or hawks ; nor shall they practise hunting or fishing. Nor shall they in any wise have or hold within our Royal College, singly or in common, any ape, bear, fox, stag, hind, fawn, or badger, or any other such ravening or unaccustomed or strange beast, which are neither profitable nor unprofitable. Furthermore, we forbid and ex- pressly interdict the games of dice, hazard, ball and all noxious inordinate unlawful and unhonest sports, and especially all games which afford a cause or occasion for loss of coin, money, goods or chattels of any kind whatsoever, whether within King's College or elsewhere within the University.... And it is Our will firmly and expressly to prohibit all of the aforesaid fellows &c. from shooting arrows, or casting or hurling stones, javelins, wood, clods or anything whatsoever, and from making or practising, singly or in common, in person or by deputy, any games or castings whatsoever, within the aforesaid King's 'College or its enclosed precincts or gardens, whereby, directly or indirectly, the Chapel or Hall or other buildings or edifices of our said College may suffer any sort of harm or loss in the glass windows, walls, roofs, coverings, or any other part thereof, within or without, (p. 149.) Item, whereas through incautious and inordinate games in the Chapel or Hall of our said King's College, which might perchance be practised therein by the wantonness of some students, the said Chapel and Hall might be harmed and even deformed in its walls, stalls, paintings and glass windows ; we therefore, desiring to provide against such harm, do strictly command that no casting of stones or balls or of anything else soever be made in the aforesaid collegiate Chapel Cloister, Stalls, or Hall ; and we forbid that dancing^ or wrestling, or other incautious and inordinate sports whatsoex'er, be practised at any time within the Chapel, Cloister or Hall aforesaid^ ' Saruch iii. 17. ^ Chaucer, C. T., \ 3328. 3 Official Visitors in the MiHcUe Ages not infrequently report that the glass of 74 Birth and NurUire ii (p. 1 1 8.) hem, seeing that holiness befitteth the Church of God... we ordain that all fellows and scholars aforesaid enter into and issue from the said Chapel humbly, modestly and devoutly ; and, within the Chapel itself, let their conversation be quiet and pleasing to God.... Nor let them in any wise make murmurs, babblings, scoffing, laughter, confabulations or indiscreet noises ; lest, through their inordinate tumult and the various sounds of voices and their other talk among them- selves the devotion or exercise of those singing psalms in the choir be in any wise impeded. Nor let any business be done in Chapel which regardeth not the worship of God's name; seeing that the Chapel is for the business of divine praise. (p. 131.) Seeing that the miserable burden of distracting want doth oftentimes turn scholars aside from that tillage of God's field whereunto they are otherwise able, and maketh them to desert their studies, we therefore have thought fit to bestow ;^200 sterling for the special use of the said Provost, fellows and scholars... so that the said Provost may borrow ;^5, and any fellows or scholars (in the order in which they shall expose their indigence to the guardians of this Chest), up to the number of thirty-five, may borrow £2 each; the rest may borrow ;^i. i^s.^^d. and no more.... Let the wardens be sworn that they will deliver no sum to any man, whether by way of loan or otherwise, without some real and sufficient pledge or caution of the true value of more than half the money borrowed ; and that such pledge or caution, unless within a year of the loan it be released, redeemed and ac- quitted, be sold forthwith within a month of this lapsed year, unless it chance to fall in time of vacation. (p. 133.) We ordain that, in each of the upper chambers of the said King's colleges, two fellows at least shall keep together, so far as the number of fellows shall suffice and extend. In the lower chambers, which have space for three church or cloister has been broken by tennis-balls: the citizens of Exeter regularly played tennis in the Cathedral cloister. (Cf. Shiilingiord's Letters, Camden Soc, 1871, p. loi : "In especiall in tyme of dyvyne service, ungoodly-ruied peple (most custumabely yong peple of the said Coniminalte) within the said Cloislre have exercised unlawfull games... and most atte tenys, by the which the walles of the saidc Cloistre have be dcfowled and the glas wyndowes all to-brost.") 20 Life in a Royal College 75 studies each, let three scholars or fellows always keep ; among all which scholars and fellows let each have his separate bed wherein he may lie alone'; and that in each lower chamber aforesaid there shall be one fellow superior to the rest in maturity, discretion and learning, who shall super- vise the other students in the chamber, and shall veraciously certify and inform (under bond of an oath which he shall make to the College, the Provost, Vice-Provost and Deans, from time to time, according as there shall be need or occasion) concerning their manners and conversation and studies.... Moreover we strictly and expressly ordain that no dweller in the aforesaid upper rooms... whether in wash- ing his head or hands or feet or any other thing, or in any other manner whatsoever, do spill water, wine, beer, or any other liquor whereby those in the lower rooms may be grieved in their persons, goods or chattels, or in any way molested. (p. 96.) Item, seeing that detractors, conspirators, main- tainers^ and whisperers — arousing or maintaining discord, envy, wrath, strife, quarrels, or matter of dissension among the scholars or fellows — do damnably cause frequent harm, scandal and schism, provoking hatred and altogether expelling charity, we do therefore command, ordain and will, and firmly prescribe to the said Provost and all fellows and scholars of our Royal College, both present and future ; yea, more, in the bowels of Jesus Christ we do pray and beseech them, in regard of their happiness in this life and in the life everlasting, and under threat of God's judgment, that in all things and above all things they shall always have, faithfully keep, and observe both unity and mutual charity among themselves, with peace and concord and brotherly love, seeing that there is by nature a certain brotherhood among the fellows of one College ; and 1 It is characteristic of this royal and rich foundation, and of Wykeham's sumptuous college at Winchester, that this provision was made for comfort. At Eton, the juniors had to sleep two in a bed (cap. xxxvi. p. 576); at Wells choir school, three in a bed. The A^orthiimberland Household Book shows how even an Earl's chaplains had sometimes to put up with similar discomforts : see Section I.K., no. 13. - A maititainer was one who, often for money, took up a quarrel that was not his own; the word has this sense in the Statute of Maintenance. 76 Birth a?id Nurture 11 let them, so far as in them Heth, yearn and be zealous for the fostering of these virtues. Let all scurrilities of whatsoever kind, and all words of envy, contumely, conspiracy, conten- tion, quarrel or harm, all whisperings and strife and evil speech and derision, all words whatsoever that bring harm or weariness or scandal or insult, all comparisons between race and race\ family and family, noble and commoner, excellent or special prerogatives, for the sake of malicious provocation, be utterly and expressly restrained from the mouths of all persons whatsoever, both within and without the College, whether in public or in private.... (p. 171.) Also that each scholar, in his admission to this our Royal College, after his year of probation, shall swear that he will not favour the opinions, condemned errors, or heresies of John Wycliffe, Reginald Pecock, or any other heretic whatsoever, so long as he shall live in this world, under pain of perjury and expulsion ipso facto. (p. 143.) Moreover,... we ordain that in future, at the mandate of the Provost for the time being, at least thrice a year, all and singular the fellows, scholars, chaplains, clerks, and choristers, shall be summoned and assemble in the College chapel, on some convenient day with least impediment to their studies or other scholastic acts, after previous notice of at least three days.... Then let the Provost, fellows and scholars cause these our Statutes to be publicly and distinctly read and rehearsed in the common Hall or in some other convenient place.... Then let a scrutiny and examination be made by the Provost and one of the senior fellows... con- cerning the life and conversation, manners, conditions, profit in scholastic studies and keeping of our Statutes and Ordi- nances; and also let cautious and diligent enquiry be made of all things needing correction and reform in King's College or in the persons that dwell therein; in which scrutiny faults shall be corrected according as they are discovered by this inquisition.... Furthermore we ordain that no fellow or scholar of our College, who may be accused or reported of crimes, excesses, or faults, shall demand that a copy of the things ^ e.g. the feud between North and South, English, Welsh and Irish, etc. 2 0, 21 Life in a Royal College 77 brought forward and discovered against him be communicated, published, given or delivered to him ; nor that the names of his accusers and denouncers be revealed to him. 21 A COLLEGE SCRUTINY College statutes provided for periodical scrutinies^ corresponding to the daily Chapters and the periodical visitations of monasteries, in which the Fellows and Scholars were bound by custom (and often, as at King's and Pembroke, Cambridge, by a statutory oath) to inform against each other. Three such scrutinies at Merton, Oxford, have survived by a fortunate chance, and are printed by J. E. T. Rogers {Hist. Ag. and Prices, II. 1866, pp. 670 ff.). The following translation is abbreviated by the omission of merely corroborative evidence. At the first scrutiny 19 Fellows testified (but there is a lacuna in the MS.); at the second 28, and at the third 22, some more than once. {a) July 20, 1338. Westcombe speaketh of silence broken at meals ; item, of discord betwixt Wyly and Fynemer. Humberston, that two Fellows are delinquent, as unwilling to bear the College burdens whereunto they are bound ; iton, that the College is overburdened with horses. Fynemar, that Elyndon, when he speaketh with the Fellows, will not let them speak. Item, that AVantyng, Wyly and Elyndon are most rebellious. Item, that Wantyng and Elyndon, in treating of College business, will not give their advice like the other Fellows. Item, that Elyndon and Wyly have undue private means \Jiahent uherins\ GOTHAM, nothing. BERNARD, that mutual charity is not kept between the Warden and the other Fellows. Item, that there is a de- fault of auditors, five should be assigned, we have but three. Sutton, the default is this : that those assigned will not audit the accounts without Wyly and Wantyng. MiDLOND, that we have too few Fellows. Elyndon, that the Warden should amend his ways, oftentimes saying that those of Founder's kin \de sanguine^ are ill dealt with in the matter of vesture and learning. That the Warden hath frequently been absent with- out reasonable cause. Item, there hath been much talk in this matter, yet none hath noted how Fynemer maltreats him, and that none complain of this matter save his [Fynemer's] abettors ; and that the Warden is too grievous to him, dealing unjustly with him in that he maintaineth Fynemer against him ; and 78 Birth and Nurture 11 that Fyneiner hath uttered mortal threats against VVyly, and that in private converse he speaketh ill to others of this deponent, Elyndon. {b) Dec. 1338. Mandele, that there should be an election [of further Fel- lows]. Westcombe ; let it be ordained that the Fellows may have access to the library. Of the money bequeathed by the schoolmasters \scolasticos\. HUMBERSTON, that the College is overburdened with horses. Regham, of mutual charit)- between the Warden, Elyndon, and Wantyng. That the Chaplain be corrected in the matter of hosen^ and vesture. VVyliot, that there is no progress in the faculty of Arts a.s was wont, neither within the College nor without. DoYLV, that John the Chaplain keepeth a servitor and daily contendeth with him, accusing him of theft. Wantinge, of silence at table, of the hosen of William the Chaplain, that John should behave himself more decently in chapel, and that the chaplains should sing mass daily. Wyly, that John Chaplain should be corrected in the matter of the servitor whom he keepeth in his room, and for his negligence in chapel ; that the Dean should enforce silence at table ; that the Fellows revile each other ; that the rest change not their new garments yearly, whereas they were wont to transfer their old garments then [at new year] without rebuke. Item, that injury hath been done him by one of the Fellows, whereof he hath oftentimes made complaint, and no fine hath yet been imposed upon the offender ; that the Statutes bind the Warden to be present when the Statutes are read ; that those things said at the last scrutiny concerning the Warden's person have not yet been all amended, therefore let the Warden now be corrected in person for those things whereof he hath not corrected himself. 1 Caligas. Even Dr Rashdall has fallen into the same snare as some other editors of visitations and translated this boots. From at least the end of the i2th century the word loses its classical sense and is used for hoseii : e.g. all the entries of caligae in Rogers's Hist. Ag. and Prices show that they were made of cloth. These Fellows were clerics; and, as we not infrequently find with monks and other clerics, they are complained of for wearing the tight-fitting hosen which Chaucer's Parson, and all other disciplinarians of the age, condemned as indecent even for the laity. 2 1 A College Scruti7iy 79 BOCKYNGHAM, thcat the Fellows should [not] use indecorous \inho7te5tis\ hosen, according to the ancient custom which was wont to be kept. (f) March 1339. MiDLETON, that William the Chaplain hath oftentimes transgressed against the Fellows. Handele. It is expedient that the seniors should be called upon to make peace between Wyly and Fynemer^ Westcombe, of the tumult of the Fellows in their chambers. HUMBRESTON, of the discord betwixt Wyly and Fynemer ; item, that the Fellows keep dogs and that the progress of studies is hindered by idleness. Item, that the Rule is not kept, in that we have no manciples. Item, it would be expedient to farm out the land in Little Wolford. Fynemer, that Wyly, assigned before this in statutory form to audit the accounts, refused ; after which, having been thrice warned and called upon by the Fellows, he refused again, like a rebel, and therefore falleth under the statutory case [of rebel- lion]. Item, that he receiveth commons unjustly, taking beyond his due share ; wherefore those who should proceed against him are too remiss. Wantyng, that the Warden should not do such injustice to the seniors as he hath begun to do. Wyly, that we should send to Stratton to inquire concerning the lands and other possessions of the College. SUTTON, that they ought to have a keeper of pledges, and have not ; for lack of which, as it is said, certain books are sold, and neither the College nor the Fellows profit thereby. Item, that the Warden doth not make execution against the College debtors, and specially the bailiff of Elham ; and that Wanting oweth the bailiff of Elham £'j. \s. ^d. of College property. Itepi, that he should not interfere in the scrutinies, seeing that he hath excused himself from other College business. Item, that Waneting hath borrowed College money and not paid, but excuseth himself because the Warden regardeth him not as competent to labour. Cleangre, that a new fashion hath been introduced, for there are so many writers at the scrutiny. Mandele would have a set of Decretals and Decrees put in the library. Item, that there should be a division of the 1 In 12 cases the evidence of discord among the fellows is repeated. 8o Birth and Nurture II College books. BOKYNGHAM, that Wanting sold College horses at Elham and keepeth the nnoneys in his hands ; neither hath he paid, nor the bailiff. Itcui, that Elyndon provoketh the Fellows to wrath. MoNBY, that there were too many writers at the scrutiny. Item, that Wantyng absented himself without cause from the election of Fellows. Item, that he and Elyndon, in business matters, made no answer except under protest. Item, that Wyly broke out against Fynemer publicly, in the presence of all the Fellows. Fynemer, that Wyly reviled him because the bailiff of Elham gave Wantyng £'j. \s. 4d. of College money for College use, but he hath given credit, and the payment of this money is not in Wantyng's hands. Itejn, that Elyndon transgressed in words against Fynemer without cause. Leverynton, of the discord among the Fellows. Item, that the seneschal is not present in chapel on holidays, but absent for the greater part. Wyly' demandeth amendment for the things said by Elyndon and Wantyng, and warneth the warning of charity ; that the Warden should correct these things, and those which before were said unto the Warden at the scrutiny, and specially how Elyndon hath said that the reputations of certain Fellows are tarnished etc. [sie]. Item, that Duraunt accused Wyly that he and other seniors intended to impede the election ; and this he had from those who were of late in London. Itejn, of the injustice done unto him elsewhere by Fynemer etc. [s/c]. MiDELTON, that Elham is guilty of breaking the Hall door. Handele would wish that peace should be made at the earliest opportunity. Item, that the juniors should show reverence to the seniors, and that all and singular should be publicly admonished to keep mutual charity, and that each should do this in so far as in him lieth. HUMBRESTON that, according to the Statutes, it is the Warden's duty to take some impartial Fellows as assessors and to put an end to this quarrel between Wyly and Fynemer. Item, that Wantyng hath borne himself irreverently towards the Warden, calling him Robert before all men'. Item that, according to the form of the Statutes, we should have stewards in the manors to visit them, for the sparing of expense. ^ The warden was Robert Treng, who died of the plague in 1350. 2 1,22 A Day of Eton Life in 1530 81 22 A DAY OF ETON LIFE IN 1530 The Grammar School of Saftron Walden was founded in 1525 ex- pressly on the model of Winchester and Eton ; the headmasters of those famous schools were therefore asked to supply information as to their current practice. The following is the Eton Headmaster's account of his own arrangements, printed first by T. Wright and again with cor- rections by A. F. Leach, Educational Charters a?id Documents, p. 450. Compare the letters from an Eton schoolboy in Paston Letters, 1900, vol. III. p. 240, reprinted in my Medieval Garner, p. 638. This ys the order of the same schole [Eton] usyd by me Richard cox, scholemaster. They come to schole at vj of the Clok in yc mornyng; they say Deus misereatur with a Colecte ; at ix they say de pro- fundis and go to brekefaste. With in a quarter of an hovvre cum ageyne and tary [till] xi and then to dyner, at v to soper, afore an Antheme and De profundis. Two prepositors in every forme, whiche doth give in a Fchrowe^ the absents Namys at any lecture and shewith when and at what tyme, both in the fore none for the tyme paste, and at v. ' Also ij prepositors in the body of the Chirche, ij in the qwere, ffor spekyng of Laten in the thred forme and all other, every one a custos and in every howse a monytor. Whan they go home ij. and ij. in order, a monitor to se that they do soe tyll they come at there hostise"^ dore. Also prevy-monytors how many the Mr wylle. Prepositors in the fold whan they play, for fyghtyng, rent clothes, blew eyes'', or siche like. Prepositors for yll-kept hedys, unwasshid facys, fowle clothis and sich other. Yff there be iiij or v in a howse, monytors for chydyng and for latyn spekyng. When any dothe come newe, the master doth inquire fro whens he comyth, what frendys he hathe, whether there be any plage. No man gothe owte off the schole, nother home to his frends, with owt ye masters lycence. Yff there be any 1 scroll. '^ host's (or hostess's). ^ black eyes. 82 Birth and Nurture ir dullard the Mr gyvith his frends warnyng and puttyth hym away, that he sclander not the schole^ 23 UNIVERSITY REFORM Sir Edmund Dudley, the able but unscrupulous minister of Henry VII., was committed to the Tower by Henry Vill. immediately after his ac- cession. He wrote in prison his Tree of the Cotnmonweallh (1509), a remarkable and illuminating treatise on the political and social conditions of his age, which was only printed in 1859. The following is from p. 31. But for a .suretie, the [oftener] that a Prince pareth" his fruite, and then the paringe by discrecion be disposed, the better will his fruite be, and the more will it have the s[c]ent of his materiall propertie. What is the paringe of the fruite of good example to the Clergie, but the encrease of vertue and coninge ? Of itself, it is right laudable, and the paringe right proper for good example. What shall yow of the clergie doe with this paringe? Is there any folk have need thereof .** I trowe never more neede, and soe greate nede that if you decide not your paringe right hastelie, I feare me the encrease comeinge will fall in this realme. Looke well upon your twoe universities, how famous they have ben, and in what condicion they be nowe. Where be your famous men that were wonte to reade Divinitie in every Cathedrall Church, and in other great Monasteries .-* Where be the good and substanciall scollers of grammar that have ben kepte in this realme before this tyme, not onlie in every good toune and cittie, and in other places, but also in Abbies and Priories, in prelates houses, and oftentymes in the houses of men of honour of the temporalitie ? Wherefore the greate prelates with the help of other of the clergie, pare of theis paringe of thencrease of vertue and connynge, and throwe them into 1 By the original Ordinances of Harrow School {1.S90) it was one of the Headmaster's duties to "have regard to the manners of his Scholars, and see that they come not uncomhed, unwashed, ragged or slovenly." There were three monitors, two to keep ordinary school discipline (including, at Winchester and Eton, the substitution of Latin for English speech) and another privately appointed to note the faults and omissions of the other two. {Harrow, by J. F. Williams, 1901, pp. 24, 28.) ^ prune. 22-24 University Reform 8 J your universities in plenteous manner, soe that every one of you in your diocese do this, as well in your Cathedral! church as in Abbies and Priories, and in all other places convenient. 24 UNIVERSITY DECAY Thomas Lever, a Lancashire man, took his B.A. at Cambridge in 1542 and became Master of St John's in 1553. The following extract is from a sermon preached at St Paul's Cross in 1550, before the citizens of London. Though the final effect of the Reformation was to give Oxford and Cambridge, under Elizabeth and the Stuarts, a greater share in the national life than ever before or since, yet the first effects of the change of religion were highly prejudicial to the Universities. The 3rd chapter of vol. in. oi The Cambriiigc History of English Literature, while laying great stress upon the temporary damage done, is strangely silent as to the final result. Lever's Sermons, ed. Arber, 1870, p. 120. If ye hadde anye eyes ye shoulde se and be ashamed that in the great aboundance of landes and goods taken from Abbeis, Colleges and Chauntryes for to serve the kynge in all necessaryes, and charges (especially in provision of relyefe for the pore, and for mayntenaunce of learnynge), the kynge is so dysapoynted that bothe the pore be spoyled, all mayntenance of learnyng decayed, and you only enryched. But, for because ye have no eyes to se wyth, I vvyll declare that you may heare wyth youre eares, and so perceyve and knowe, that w[h]ere as God and the kynge hathe bene moste liberall to gyve and bestowe, there you have been moste unfayethfull to dyspose and delyver. For accordying unto gods word and the k[y]nges pleasure, the universities, which be the scholes of all godlynes and vertue, should have bene nothyng decayed, but much increased and amended by thys [the] reformacion of religion For before that you did beginne to be the disposers of the kinges liberalitye towardes learnyng and poverty, there was in houses belongynge unto the unyversyte of Cambryge, two hundred studentes of dyvynytye, manye verye learned, wh)xhe bee nowe all clene gone, house and manne, young towarde scholers, and old fatherlye Doctors, not one of them lefte : one hundred also of an other sorte, that havyng rych frendes or beyng benefyced men dyd lyve of theym selves in Ostles and Innes, be eyther gon awaye or elles fayne to crepe into 6-2 ^4 Birth and N'urture ii Colleges and put poore men from bare lyvynges. Those bothe be all gone, and a small number of poore godly dylygent studentes now remaynynge only in Colleges be not able to tary and contynue theyr studye in the universitye, for lacke of exibicion and healpe. There be dyvers ther whych ryse dayly betwixte foure and fyve of the clocke in the mornynge ; and, from fyve untyll syxe of the clocke, use common prayer wyth an exhortacion of gods worde in a commune chappell ; and from sixe unto ten of the clocke use ever eyther pryvate study or commune lectures. At ten ot the clocke they go to dynner, whereas they be contente wyth a penye pyece of byefe^ amongest iiij, havyng a fewe porage made of the brothe of the same byefe wyth sake and otemell, and nothynge els. After thys slender dinner thej'^ be either teachynge or learnynge untyll v. of the clocke in the evenyng, when as they have a supper not much better then theyr dyner. Immedyatelye after the whyche, they go eyther to reason}'ng in problemes or unto some other studye, untyll it be nyne or tenne of the clocke ; and there, beyng wythout fyre, are fayne to walk or runne up and downe halfe an houre to gette a heate on their feete whan they go to bed. 25 FROISSART'S YOUTH Translated, with many omissions of irrelevant passages, from the chronicler's autobiographical poem Espinette Amoureuse (ed. Buchon, vol. III. pp. 479 ff.). We need not here enquire how far the author has always confined himself to literal fact ; he has certainly set himself to portray a poet's childhood and youth, and that is enough for the purpose of this present book. In my youth, such was my temper that I loved pastime passing well ; and, as I was then, such am I still, though yesterday be not to-day. While I was yet but twelve years old, I hungered and thirsted to see dances and caroles^ to hear minstrels and words of solace ; so it was my nature to love hotly all such as love hawks and hounds. When there- 1 beef. ' A round dance in which the performers sang also ; see Manning of Erunne, Handlyng Synnc, 11. 8987 )i". 2 4, 25 Froissarfs Youth 85 fore I was put to school, wherein the ignorant are taught, I found there the little eirls whose tender \'outh was even as mine own; and I, who was a little boy, would serve them with gifts of pins or apples or pears, or with a ring of glass ; and, for to say sooth, methought it was great prowess to win their grace — as in truth it is ; for I say none otherwise to-day. And then I was wont to think in my heart " When will my day come, that I shall be able to love in very sooth ? " for thereunto was my nature inclined, and everywhere men pro- claim that all joy and all honour cometh from arms and from love.... But what age, to say truth, think ye that I had when Love, by his wounds, taught me his precious balms ? Very young was I in years : never yet had I tired of children's games as they are played before the age of twelve. When I was grown a little wiser, then I must needs be more fully subject to my masters ; for they taught me the Latin tongue, and, if I varied in repeating my lessons, I was beaten.... I could not rest ; for I fought with other children, beat and was beaten ; so distraught was I that I oftentimes went home with torn raiment ; there again I was reproached full oft or beaten. But be assured that my parents lost their labour; for this never turned me aside, but, as soon as I saw my fellows pass by on their way, full soon I found some excuse to escape and join their play. But, so help me God ! so happily did I pass those days that all things turned unto me for delight, whether speech or silence, whether movement or rest; for I had time at my choice. In those days I took more account of a chaplet of violets to give to those little girls, than I take now for twenty silver marks from the hand of a count.... Though my body was yet weak and tender, yet my heart would fain be every- where, and specially wheresoever there was plenty of violets and roses and peonies, wherein (God help me !) I took more delight than in aught else. And when the season changed and winter came, with his rain and foul weather, then I de- lighted to take my pastime in reading romances, and specially such as treated of love. I remember how an adventure befel me while my young 86 Birth and Nurture II years ran on their course ; never thereafter did it depart from my heart ; wherefore it shall be set down here. 'Twas in the jolly month of May: no doubt or fear had I when I entered into a fair garden. The hour was yet early, little after the break of dawn ; there lay no heaviness upon my mind, but all things brought me pure delight, in that fair weather that reigned and that promised to reign. The small fowls, for their part, vied with each other in melody, all in glad harmony without note of discord ; for never saw I dayspring or morn so fair as this. The firmament was still spangled with stars on high ; but the daystar had already set out on his chase to drive black night before him.... I stayed my steps a moment to muse on these fowls and their song, and to contemplate the young trees that stood so thick around ; above me rose a bush of that flower that men call white- thorn, whose blossom is so fair that we care little for the thorn... [Here Venus appears to the poet, and promises him success in love if he do but persevere in her worship.] After this adventure of mine, even as young men stray afield from place to place, for company or for pastime, so I fell upon a place where I came to terms with the God of Love, even as it is here told. Right at the hour of prime a maiden sat in that place reading a romance ; I moved to greet her, and named her by name, and said, " Fair sweet lady, how call you this romance?" She forthwith, closing her mouthy laid her hand upon the book and made courteous answer, saying, " Cleomades is his name ; well is the book made, and well doth it treat of love ; you shall hear it, and shall tell me how it pleaseth you." Then I beheld her sweet face, her fresh colour and her grey eyes. No fairer could have been desired ; with her long lintwhite locks and her hands so fine that the freshest lady in the world could show no fairer; God of truth ! how fair and dainty she was, how gay her bearing and how * It is only with the advent of the printed book that reading has become a silent occupation. Philip heard the eunuch reading to himself, yet aloud ; St Augustine discusses at great length the probable reasons \s hy St Ambrose was so eccentric as to read silently, {Confess. Bk vi. c. 3.J 25 Froissart's Youth 87 slender her body ! Then spake I, " Lady, I am at one with that which I hear you read; for I love those things better than melody of harp or any other music." Then the damsel read on, in a place which provoked to mirth ; no words of mine can tell how sweetly her lips moved ; they scarce seemed to touch the words, so low and so soft she laughed — yea, and not too long, but even to the point, as the best-born and most prudent lady in the world. Then, when she had read a space, she prayed me of her grace that I would read a little in turn ; and I, who had neither desire nor courage to refuse her, read two or three pages more. She listened well (God regard her !) while I read ; then we left that book and entered upon other talk; but it was ever of single words, as is the wont of young folk in their play, when they talk at leisure for solace and for pastime. But full well I know that the God of Love fell upon me at that hour, and smote me with the most amorous of his arrows. (483. 6.) Once I sat beside my f;u'r, jesting of I know not what; then she, of her courtesy, said, "Young man, prithee lend me a romance to read, for to read for pure joy is a pleasant craft." " Certes, fair lady, I will do your behest, and will furnish you with a book wherein you will find great solace " ; for then it came into my mind that I had the book called Bailiff of Love. And within myself I said, " Thou seest well, thou darest not speak of love to this lady so debonnair ; therefore will I write all mine intent in a letter, and enclose it in the book." Fair and well was my ballade written, in a little scroll ; then I slipped it into the romance and put it into her hands. With much joy she took it ; to the end, or near to the end, she read the book, and many thanks she gave me in rendering it again.. F'ull fain was I of her good will, and hastily did I open the book to see whether the ballade lay therein ; but alas ! there it lay, neither more nor less, but even as I had placed it when the book came into her hands. " Ha ! " said I, " here is a strange matter ! for the fair lady hath left my ballade even in the same place where I laid it ; at least she might have looked a little thereon ! " (485 a.) It befell one day that I went out after dinner to 88 Birth and Nurture ir play in a garden where were many delights of roses, of lilies and other flowers, and of much other solace. There, under a fair green rose-tree, 1 plucked a crimson rose and went softly, gladly, to my lady's hostel. Such was my fortune that I found her there ; then besought I that she would accept this rose par amours. Forthwith she answered, as one un- willing to receive it, yet in soft and kindly words, " Leave it where it is ; for it is in good hands." Then said I, " Nay, lady, but take it, for thus shall it come into better hands, by my soul ! " Softly then she took it, and smiled a little as she spoke; and I betook me again to that spot whence I had plucked it, seeing that I knew none fairer for solace of sweet garden-ground. Again it befell within a brief while after, in an hostel that stood hard by the home of my lady so sweet and fair, we sat five or six of a like age, merry of heart and eating of fresh fruit in solace and in great revel. My lady was with us, and sweet was her mien ; yet I dared make no semblant that would betray us to the rest ; forth I went at last, still hoping for her mercy. Thus passed my days of youth betwixt Reason and Love. Reason would that I should suffer ; and Love, that I should offer my heart and show that fair lady how I lived for her, how I did nought but for her love. " It is good now," said I, " that I should speak and pray her fair lor mercy ; willingly (said I) will I speak so soon as I shall find occasion." Thereunto then bent I my mind. One day we set ourselves to dance ; others were there beside us two ; and I held her by the finger, for she was leading me forward. I, then, that followed, holding her finger, fairly and softly I pressed it in mine ; such joy and delight drew I thence as no tongue may tell ! Whensoever her turn came to sing, I was full blithe and ready to sing again ; ah me ! how merry then was I ! At last we set ourselves down upon a bench ; and then I caught fairly at my chance of speech, and spake out with my tongue : " Certes, fair lady, your sweet semblaunt, your gentle bearing and your lightness of limb are cause of all my joy ; no longer can I dissemble. If I had leisure now to speak, and that we two were here 25 Froissart' s Youth 89 alone, I would swear it to you by my solemn faith." Then she eyed me for a while, yet so as no man might observe, and answered with these brief words, "Would you indeed do as you say, and is it with good sense that you would have my love? " and thereupon she arose and said, " Let us dance on ; in this pastime of dancing I find no heaviness." (486 a.) Even thus the time went by ; one day I came in time to see her ; another day, not. Then fell I into melancholy to think that she was as friendly with other folk as with me. I therefore, who loved her from the bottom of my heart, would sigh full oftentimes, " Ah me ! she hath made now a new friend ! she pla\s and laughs with every man ; her looks are common to all ! " The tale goes on with medieval minuteness of detail. A confidante secretly conveyed a "ballade" of Froissart to the lady, who, however, rippled with laughter over it (487 a). She then announced that the lady was on the point of marriage ; and our hero, after his first idea of slaying the rival, fell into a deadly fever (4791^, 480). He was partly consoled, on recovery, by the confidante, who procured him the mirror in which the lady's face had so often been reflected (490 . 13^. ^d. to ;;^io or more); the Secretary, the Senior Priest of the Chapel, and "everj' one of my Lord's counsel" received £~,. The Clerk of the Kitchen received ^3. ds. 8d. ; the yeoman-falconer £2 and the groom-falconer £1. 32 Looking back on the Middle Ages 99 onely can teache or make rules, wherby a childe shall onely lerne to speake congrue latine, or to make sixe versis standyng in one fote, wherin perchance shal be neither sentence nor eloquence Undoubtedl)^ ther be in this realme many well lerned, whiche (if the name of a schole maister were nat so moche had in contempte, and also if theyr labours with abundant salaries mought be requited,) were righte suffycient and able to induce their herers to excellent lernynge, so they be nat plucked away grene, and er they be in doctrine sufficiently rooted. But nowe a dayes, if to a bachelar or maister of arte studie of philosophic waxeth tediouse, if he have a spone full of latine, he wyll shewe forth a hoggesheed without any lernyng, and offre to teache grammer and ex- poune noble writers, and to be in the roome of a maister : he wyll, for a small salarie, sette a false colour of lernyng on propre wittes, whiche w}-ll be wasshed away with one shoure of raine. For if the children be absent from schole by the space of one moneth, the best lerned of them will uneth^ tell wheder Fato, wherby Eneas was brought in to I tali, were other- a man, a horse, a shyppe, or a wylde goose. Al though their maister wyll perchance avaunte hym selfe to be a good philosopher. ^ scarcely. * either. 7—2 SECTION III AUTHORS, SCRIBES AND READERS 1 MONASTIC STUDIES {a) Rule of S. Benedict (c. 48). Of Daily Hajidiwork. Idleness is the eneni)' of the soul ; therefore the brethren should be occupied at certain times in working with their hands, and at certain other hours in godly reading. Wherefore we think fit thus to dispose both these times. From Easter to the first of October let them go forth early and labour at necessary work from Prime until almost the fourth hour; and from the fourth until about the sixth let them busy themselves with reading.... From the first of October until the beginning of Lent, let them read a full hour until the second hour ; then let them say Tierce, and let all work until None at the work enjoined them.... After refection let them busy themselves with their reading, or with the Psalms. Again, in Lententide, let them read from early morn to full Tierce, and then busy themselves until the full tenth hour with whatsoever work has been enjoined upon them. And in these days of Lent let each take one volume for himself from the library, and let him read that book fully, from beginning to end, [during the year]. These volumes must be given out on the first day of Lent. But, above all, let one or two seniors be deputed to go round the monastery at those hours which are assigned for reading, lest perchance some slothful brother be found who spends his time in idle- ne.ss or in talk, and who is not intent upon his reading, thus wasting not only his own time but that of others also. If such a one be found (though God forbid that there should be I, 2 Monastic Studies loi such !) let him be admonished once and twice ; and, if he amend not then, let him be subjected to regular discipline [i.e. to corporal punishment], that the rest ma}' fear to follow in his steps. On Sundays let them spend their time in reading, except those who are deputed for the various services. But if any monk be so negligent and idle that he will not or cannot meditate or read, let some work be enjoined upon him, that he be not wholly unoccupied. {b) Lanfranc's Canterbury Constitutions {Opera^ ed. J. A. Giles, vol. I.). On the second da\' in Lent, before the brethren enter the Chapter House, the keeper of the books should have the volumes collected in the said Chapter House and spread out upon a carpet, save only such as shall have been given out for reading during the past year, which must be brought in by the brethren, each bearing his own volume in his own hands, according to the warning which the aforesaid keeper shall have given in the Chapter of the day before. Then let the sentence of St Benedict's Rule be read concerning the observance of Lent, and let a sermon be made upon this theme; after which the keeper shall read his list of the books borrowed by the brethren for the year past. Each monk, hearing his name pro- nounced, shall render back the book which had been committed to him for reading during the year ; and, if he be conscious of not having read it to the end, he shall fall down and confess his fault and beseech indulgence. Then shall the said keeper o-ive unto each of the brethren some other book to read, dis- tributing them in order and writing down on the spot both the titles of the books and the names of the readers. 2 WRITERS' PAY J. E. T. Rogers, History of Agriculture and Prices, vol. li. (1866). (P- 579-) Farley (A.D. 1320). Fee paid to a certain clerk of Oxenford, for translating Hebrew into Latin, two pence. (P- 579-) Carleon (A.D. 1320). To labourers making lime, at 2^ per diem ; carrying stone, at 2"^ per diem. (P- 579-) Usk (A.D. 1320). To threshers, per diem 2^. I02 Authors, Scribes and Readers in (p. 612.) C/are (A.D. 1324). The countess keeps a scriptor at Clare [castle] for 16 weeks engaged in writing a book called Vitae Patrum, and pays him 8 shillings'. (p. 583.) Oxford (A.D. 1374). Writing the third part of a Bible of the edition of Nicholas de Lyra, and parchment, 29 .shillings. 3 A WRITER'S BOND Codex Duuensis, cd. Kervyn de Lettenhove (Brussels, 1875) (pp. 216, 217). This MS., belonging to the Cisterciati Abbey of Dunes, near Dun- kirk, contains no document later than 1325 ; its contents date mostly from tlie late 13th century. To all who shall inspect these present letters, the Arch- deacon of Orleans wisheth health in the Lord. Know ye that, in our presence, Robert of Normandy, an English writer, hath promised by his faith to write, continue and finish according to his ability, for Master W. de Lion, clerk ^ the commentary of Innocent [IV.] on the Decretals, even as he hath begun to write in the second book, and in letters as good as those wherewith he hath begun, for the sum of four pounds of Paris money to be paid by the said Master to the said Robert, even as he shall gain by writing in piece- works Moreover the said writer hath promised by his faith that he will accept no other work until the book aforesaid shall have been wholly completed. The same Robert hath promised by his faith that, if he should desist from writing, continuing and finishing the work aforesaid, he shall be kept in prison and in iron bonds within the house of the said Master, never to go forth until the said work shall have been altogether completed ; and, if he fail in this his promise, he hath coven- ' I'itae Palium contains about 317,000 words : he therefore wrote at the rate of about 3,300 words a day on an average, even including the frequent holy days. His pay comes to dd. a week plus board and lodgirg ; an ordinary ai-tisan's pay. Very elaborate writing was of course far more expensive than this : a legendary for Winchester College in 1396 cost about 45. ()d. per 1,000 words. The poet Hoccleve earned £,^ a year as a scribe in a public olike. {Works, Early l^nglish Text Society, vol. iii, p. 30.) * The editor notes that one Jean de Lion was a monk at Dunes in 1268 — probably a brother of W. de Lion. ^ I'rofessional scribes reckoned their work by divisions of a standard length, called /^t/a^. The livre parisis was equal to about 6j. 'id. sterling. 2-4 A Writer s Bond 103 anted that our provost or our servant may seize him where- soever he be found, and brins^ him to the house of the Master aforesaid to keep his prison there, as hath been already re- hearsed, promising by his faith that he will in no wise contra- vene the aforesaid covenant or any part thereof. And, for the keeping of these aforesaid articles, the same Robert hath pledged, by his faith, to the aforesaid Master W., his own person and his heirs, and all his goods, whether movable or immovable, present or future, renouncing by his faith, in this matter, all help of canon or civil law, all privilege of crusade granted or to be granted, all hurt, deception, circumvention, exception of fraud, and all other exceptions which might be objected or laid against these letters present, submitting him- self in this matter, by his faith, to the jurisdiction of the Court [Christian] of Orleans. P. 217 contains a similar bond by the same scribe, to copy out a com- mentary on Justinian's Code for £io parisis, and to undertake no other work in the meantime. On this occasion the penalty for breach of contract is not prison, but two other scribes solemnly pledge themselves to com- plete the work in case of Robert's failure. 4 THE WRITER'S PAINS ((?) Wattenbach, Schriftwesen des Mitlelaltcrs^ 1896 (l. 287), from a MS. written by the monk Ludwig of Wessobrunn. The book which you now see was written in the outer seats [of the cloister] ; while I wrote I froze ; and, what I could not write by the beams of day, I finished by candle- light'. [U) Reliquiae Antiqiiae{\. 287). From a M.S. of the timeof Henry VII.: compare Hoccleve's complaint in No. 19. Three fingers write, yet the whole body is in travail : they who know not how to write deem it no labour ! ^ Adam Marsh's letters show us that it was looked upon as a most unusual thing to write by night — as indeed the rudimentary ligliting arrangements ot the Middle Ages must have made it a severe trial to the eyes. (Momiiiicitta Frattcis- cana, Rolls Series, vol. i. pp. 141, 34.5.) I04 Authors, Scribes and Readers m 5 HIRELING WRITERS At an early date (as we see in No. 3) the hired scriptor began to take the place of the purely monastic copyist. The Westminster Consue- tudinary of 1266 makes provision for the professional as well as for the monastic scribe ; and at St Albans, the most remarkable of all English abbeys for its literary activities, this process had begun still earlier. The best copying (and the best art generally) of the later Middle Ages was done not by monks but by laymen or lower clerics. Gesta Abbatum Motiasterii S'' Albania R.S. (p. 57). In the days of Abbot Paul [1077- 1093], among other thing.s, a certain warHke Norman noble, at the abbot's per- suasion, bestowed upon us two-thirds of the tithes of his domain in Hatfield, which he had received at the distribution [of the spoils] ; and, at the wish of the Abbot Paul, who loved books, he assigned these tithes for the making of books for the Abbey; for the knight himself was a literate man, a diligent hearer and lover of the Scriptures. To this office were added certain tithes in Redbourne ; and the Abbot decreed that certain daily allowances should be given to the scribes from the charities of the brethren and of the cellarer, since such gifts were ready to eat, in order that the scribes might not be hindered in their work*; on account of which allowances he gave better endowments by way of reparation to the almoner, that his conscience might not be hurt. There, then, the Abbot caused such noble volumes as were necessary for the Church \or Abbey] to be written by choice scribes whom he sought from afar ; and of pure courtesy (for he was a most courteous man), he bestowed upon the aforesaid Sir Robert, for the use of the chapel in his manor of Hatfield, two sets of vestments, a silver chalice, a missal and other necessary books. Moreover, each forbade that, by reason of the aforesaid gifts of tithes to the scriptorium, or of the Abbot's gift, anything else should be written or given hence- forward for this knight. So, after that Paul had thus liberally bestowed upon the said knight his first set of books, he forth- with ordained the writing of choice books in this scriptorium 1 i.e. they were to receive dishes straight from the convent kitchen, instead of allowances of uncooked food which they would have to prepare in their own quarters. 5-7 Hireling Writers 105 which he had made ; and [Abp] Lanfranc lent him archetypes to copy from. 6 CHAUCER'S COPYIST Chaucers wordes unto Adam, his ovvne Scriveyn. Adam scryveyne, if ever it thee byfalle Boece or Troylus for to wryten nuwe, Under thy long lokkes thowe most have the scalle^ But after my makyng thowe wryt more truwe. So offt a daye I mot- thy werk renuwe, It to corett and eke to rubbe and scrape; And al is through thy neglygence and rapel 7 A scrivp:ner's gild From the York Meuwrandum Book (Surtees Soc. 191 2, vol. i. (p. 56), of the late 14th century). Compare the similar evidence in H. T. Riley, Memorials of London, 1868, p. 557. Scriveners of Text. These are the ordinances made among the scriveners of the city of York by their common assent. First. If any stranger scrivener come to the city to dwell therein, if he be able and sufficient for the place of a master, he shall forthwith be made free of the city; and if he be unable to practise as master in the said craft, he shall put himself to apprenticeship with some master, to learn his art, until he be well taught and able to copy as a master in the same craft. Item, that no master scrivener take an apprentice for a less term than five years ; and that the said apprentice be of the age of 16 years at least; and that the master take none other to teach but such as are his apprentices. And those who have not the freedom of York, and are taught and informed to write, shall dwell with masters of the said craft in that city aforesaid, to take a proper wage according to their ability to work in the said craft. And that no man of this craft act against this ordinance in any of the above-said points, under fine of twenty shillings ^ scab. * must. 2 haste. io6 Authors, Scribes and Readers in sterlin" ; viz. ten to the Council Chamber and ten to the profit of their pageant and of the light ' 'which appertaincth to the said craft. 8 LITERARY LIFE IN THE CLOISTER Ordericus Vitalis (1075-1 143?) was son of a French priest, Odeler, who came to England as confessor to Roger, earl of Shrewsbury. Odeler not only persuaded the earl, after many years, to build a monastery at Shrewsbury, but entered it himself with half of his property. Though Orderic was sent in early life to the abbey of Ouche or St-Evroul in Normandy, he never lost his affection for England, and frequently styles himself An^ligena. He and his somewhat discursive lUstoria Ecclcsi- (Utica are admirably characterized by Dean Church in his St Anselm, 1870, pp. loiff. The following translations are partly taken (with slight changes) from Church : the page-references are to the originals in Migne, Pairologia Latina, vol. 188. {a) Hist. Ecd. Lib. v. (c. 17, col. 425). The aforesaid Odeler, my father [when the monastery at Shrewsbury had been finished], fulfilled to the letter all that he had promised ; for he gave two hundred pounds of silver, and his son Benedict to be a monk ; and after earl Roger's death, he himself took the cowl there. In that house he served God seven years according to the Rule of St Benedict; and on Friday in Whitsun week, after very many labours borne for God's sake, he covered his sins by uncovering them with confession and bitter tears, and died anointed and fortified with the holy Eucharist.... Lo! here is a digression, be it of what account it may, about the building of the monastery on my father's land, which is now inhabited by the family of Christ, and where my father himself, as I remember, an old man of sixty, willingly bore to the end the yoke of Christ. Forgive me, good reader, and let it not be an offence to thee, I pray thee, if I commit to record something about my father, whom I have never seen since the time when, as if I had been a hated step-child, he sent me forth for the love of his Maker into exile. It is now forty- two years ago ; and in those years many changes have been, far and wide, in the world. While I often think of these things, and commit some of them to my paper, carefully * The light maiiilained 111 the Gild (Jlmpel. 7, 8 Literary Life in the Cloister loy resisting idleness, I tlius exercise myself in inditing them. Now I return to my work, and speak to those younger than myself — a stranger, to those of the country — about their own affairs, things that they know not ; and in this way, by God's help, I do them useful service. {/>) Ibid. Lib. XIII. (c. 22, col. 9S1). Behold, worn out with age and infirmity, I desire to end my work, and for many reasons prudence requires it. For I am now [1141] passing the sixty-seventh year of my age in the worship of my Lord Jesus Christ, and while I see the foremost men of this world crushed by heavy disasters of the most opposite sort, I dance for joy, in the safe estate of obedience and poverty. There is Stephen, king of the English, sighing in prison ; and Lewis, king of the French, leading an expedi- tion against the Goths and Gascons, is vexed with many and frequent cares. There is the church of Lisieux, whose bishop is dead, and which is without a pastor; moreover, when it will have one, and of what sort, I know not. What shall I say more } Amid these things, I turn my speech to thee, O Almighty God, and with double force beseech thy goodness that thou wouldest have mercy on me. I give thee thanks, O King most high, who didst freely make me, and hast ordered my years according to, thy good pleasure. For thou art my King and my God, and I am thy servant and the son of thine handmaid, who, from the nrst days of my life, according to my power, have served thee. For on Easter eve I was baptised at Attingesham [Atcham], which village is in England on the Severn, that great river of Severn. There, by the ministry of Ordric the priest, thou didst regenerate me by water and the Holy Ghost, and didst put upon me the name of that same priest, my god-father. Then, when I was five years old, I was delivered over to school in the city of Shrewsbury, and there I offered to thee the first services of clerkship in the church of the holy apostles, St Peter and St Paul. There Sigward, the famous priest, taught me for five years the letters of Carmenta Nicostrata', and broke me ' Carmentis (otherwise Nicostrata) was labled to have introduced the alphabet into Italy. See frontispiece to R. S. Rait, Ltje in (he Medieval Uuiverstty, 191 2. io8 Authors, Scribes and Readers iii in to psalms and hymns and other necessary instructions ; meanwhile, thou didst exalt the aforesaid church, built on the river Mole, which belonged to my father, and by the pious de- votion of Count Roger didst build there a venerable monaster}-. It did not seem fit to thee that I should longer be thy soldier there, lest with my relations, who often to thy servants are a burden and hindrance, I should suffer some disquiet, or run into some loss in the fulfilment of thy law through the carnal affection of my relations. Therefore, O glorious God, who didst command Abraham to go forth from his country and his father's house and kindred, thou didst put into the heart of Odeler my father to give up all his claim in me, and to put me absolutely under thy yoke. So he delivered me to Rainald the monk, a weeping father his weeping child, and for the love of thee ap- pointed me to banishment : and he never saw me afterwards. Young boy as I was, I took not on me to dispute my father's wishes, but in everything I willingly assented, for he had promised on his part that, if I would become a monk, I should after my death possess Paradise with the innocent. Gladly was this engagement made between me and thee, my father being its minister ; and I left behind my native country and my parents and all my kin, and my acquaintance and "friends; and they, weeping and bidding me farewell, with loving prayers, commended me to thee, O most high Lord God. Hear their supplications, I beseech thee, and graciously grant what they desired, O merciful King of Sabaoth. So being ten years old I crossed the British Sea, and came an exile to Normandy, where, unknown to all, I knew no man. Like Joseph in Egypt, I heard a strange language. Yet by the help of thy favour, among these strangers I found all gentle- ness and friendliness. In the eleventh year of my age, I was received to the monastic life by the venerable Abbot Mainer, in the monastery of Ouche, and on Sunday, the 2ist of Sep- tember [1085], I was tonsured after the manner of clerks, and for my English name, which sounded harsh to Normans, the name of Vitalis was given me, borrowed from one of the com- panions of St Maurice the martyr, whose martyrdom was at that ti-me celebrated [Sept. 22]. In this house for fifty-six years, by 8 Literary Life i?i the Cloister 109 thy favour, have I had my conversation, and by all the brethren and dwellers in it I have been loved and honoured much more than I deserved. Heat and cold and the burden of the day have I endured, labouring among thine own in the " vineyard of Sorech"; and the "penny" which thou hast promised I have confidently waited for, for thou art faithful. Six abbots have I reverenced as my fathers and masters, because they were in thy place : Mainer and Serlo, Roger and Garin, Richard and Ranulf. They were the lawful heads of the convent of Ouche ; for me and for others they kept watch, as those who must give account ; within and abroad they used good husbandry, and, with thee for their companion and helper, provided all things necessary for us. On March 15 [1091], when I was sixteen years old, at the bidding of Serlo, our abbot-elect, Gilbert, Bishop of Lisieux, ordained me sub-deacon. Then after two years, on the 26th of March [1093], Serlo, Bishop of Seez, laid on me the office of deacon, in which grade I gladly ministered to thee fifteen years. Lastly, in the thirty-third year of my age, William, Archbishop of Rouen, on the 21st of December [1107] laid on me the burden of the priesthood. On the same day, he ordained 244 deacons and 120 priests, with whom, in the Holy Ghost, I devoutly approached thy holy altar, and have now for thirty-four years faithfully performed thy service unto thee with a willing mind. (r) Ibid. Lib. v. prologue (addressed to his abbot, Garin) (col. 374). First, therefore, I chose to obey your commands and those of our venerable abbot Roger, by beginning a short history of our monastery of St Evroul ; a work which our predecessors have exhorted each other to perform, but which none was willing to begin ; for all preferred silence to speech, and untroubled repose to the care of searching out past events. They would gladh', indeed, have read the acts of their abbots and brethren, and the story how those small possessions were got together, and increased by needy yet devout founders and by the immense solicitude of our forefathers ; but the)' would not bend their minds to the slow labour of composition or writing. At length I myself, borne hither as a ten-year- I lo Authors, Scrides cmd Readers iii old English boy from the most distant confines of Mercia and thrown as a barbarous and unknown stranger among the more expert inhabitants of this house, have attempted, by- God's inspiration, to publish among Normans the story of Norman deeds and Norman affairs. (' ate and well they drank ; how many we were, I myself cannot tell, though I was among them. Right joyous was the cheer they made ; it is long since I saw such noble fare or such delights ; so help me God ! all the fair folk are departing ; good gentility is gone, and all men think only of their own. So to this spousal came the minstrels in full riding-boots ; none was slow of speech : " give us " (quoth they) " either patronage or money, as is right and reason, that each may go content to his home." (pp. 1-3.) Lay of the Poverty of Riitebeuf. I know not where to begin, so copious is my matter, in speaking of my poverty : for God's sake I pray you, frank king of France [Louis IX.], give me some goods ! Great king, I lack food and have lacked it long ; no man offers, no man gives to me. I cough with cold, I gape with hunger, whereby I am consumed and mal- treated ; mattress I lack, bed I lack ; from Paris to Senlis there is none so poor as I. Sire, I know not whither to turn ; my ribs know well the taste of horse-litter ; straw-bed is no bed, and on mine lieth naught but straw. (pp. 25-27.) The Lay of Winter Misery. Poor sense hath God the king of glory given me, and poor memory, and poverty of this world's goods. Chill are my loins when the east-wind blows; it comes and blows me through and through, God so tempers His seasons to me that black flies bite me in summer, and white flies in winter, I am like the wild osier, or like the bird on the bough ; in summer I sing, and in winter I weep and make lament ; like the tender bough I cast my leaves at the first touch of frost. The dice that we buy at the dicemaker's have spoiled me of all my garments; dice are my death; they watch and spy on me, they assail and defeat me ; that is my bane. (pp. 6-17.) The Marriage of Rutcbeiif and The Complaint 1 This William, whom Rutebeuf calls satirically cousin, was pantler (pane- tarius) to the Count of Poitiers, brother of St Louis ; we may remember that Chaucer's wife was probably panetaria to the Duchess of Lancaster. 128 AutJwrs, Scribes and Readers III ofRutcheuf. Vex myself, what boots it to disquiet myself? Men say "the fool that fooleth not loseth his seasonable time"; was it without reason that I took a wife ? Now have I neither cot nor house ; and, worst of all, to the greater comfort of all who hate me to the death, I have taken to me such a wife as no man else can love or prize ; she was poor and marred when I took her ; and now am I the married man no less poor and marred than she. Gentle she is not, nor fair ; she hath fifty years in her dish ; lank and lean, I fear no rival in her love; since the day when God was born of Mary in the manger, never was such a wedding as this of mine ! By the Lord who hath all things, little had I when I took my wife, and she still less. I can do no handiwork ; no man will ever know mine abode, so poor it is ; never shall my door stand open, for my house is too bare and poverty-stricken and foul; often I have neither bread in the hutch nor paste in the kneading-trough. Blame me not, therefore, if I have no haste to go home, for there I find no good cheer; no creature holds my coming dear if I bring naught with me; that is the chief of all my woes, that I dare not to knock empty-handed at mine own door ! Know ye how I bear myself? My feast is in the hope of what the morrow may bring. The foster-mother cries on me daily for money ; she dis- trains and pinches me for the child's food, else will she send him home to bray on his own hearth; may the Lord God who brought him into the world give him nourishment and send his sustenance, and may He grant me also some relief, that my poverty may press me less, and that I may help my child better and assure him better sustenance than now ! All hath been pledged that pledge I could, and all is taken from my house ; for I have Iain three months without sight of a friend. Evil Cometh never alone ; all that was to befal me hath now befallen. Where are now those friends whom I had held so dear and loved so well ? Methinks they are too few and far between ; ill were they sown from the first, and they have come to nought. II, 12 The Fight for Science 129 12 THE FIGHT FOR SCIENCE By far the best brief biographical sketch of Roger Bacon is Prof. A. (}. Little's in Roger Bacon (commemoration volume, Oxford, 1914)- He was born about 12 14, and was already a famous lecturer at Oxford and Paris before he joined the Franciscans. The story of his earlier imprisonment rests upon an error; from about 1256-66 he was incapacitated not by prison, but by a breakdown of health. On June 22, 1266, Pope Clement IV., who as a cardinal had already become interested in Bacons writings, sent him a command for a copy of these, "written in a fair hand \de bona littera\ with all possible expedition. ..and as secretly as possible. ..notwith- standing any contrary command of your .Superior or any constitution of your Order ^" Bacon found none of his past works worthy of sending to the Pope, but set to work at once upon a series of new works which should embody his philosophical views. " His first project," writes Prof. Little, "was an elaborate one, including a systematic and scientific treatment of the various branches of knowledge ; he worked at this, writing parts of the Communia Naturalium and Communia Mathe- maticae, for some months ('till after Epiphany,' i.e. January 6, 1267), but found it impossible. He then started again on a more modest scale and wrote in the next twelve months the preliminary treatise known as the Opus Majus, which was supplemented by the Opus Minus, and, sub- sequently, by the Opus Tertium. The Opus Minus and the Opus Tertium were both of them introductions to and summaries of the Opus Majus vvith some additions (chiefly on the dangerous subjects of alchemy and astrology) and further elucidation of special points." In 1277 the Bishop of Paris issued, at the bidding of Gregory X., a decree condemning 219 current "errors," some of which had been held even by St Thomas Aquinas ; on the whole, the decree was an attack upon the liberal thought of the time. In that same year the heads of the Franciscans and Dominicans concerted measures of censorship to allay certain wordy disputes between the members of the two Orders. We know that Bacon's works would have come naturally under both these bans ; it is therefore natural that he should have been struck. The Minister General committed him to prison — which would include deprivation of books and writing materials — and his doctrines were con- demned. A new Minister was elected in 1289 ; it is possible that Bacon was released in 1290; but it is only too probable that he remained there till 1292, when he worked at his unfinished Ccmpcndinm Studii Theo- logiae. He probably died in this year. My extracts are translated from ^ Constitutions of Franciscan Chapter General, 1260, drawn up under the presidency of St Bonaventura : "item, we decree that henceforth no new writing be published outside the Order, unless it have first been diligently examined by the General or Provincial Minister and the Delegates in General Chapter; and whosoever shall do contrary to this decree, let him last three days on nothing but bread and water, and let that writing be taken from him." c. 9 130 Authors, Scribes ajtd Readers in O^t-ra /ficW// as glad as a bird is of a fair morn. * gift. ^ but. ^0 dost associate. '* bight. " lying. " evil. ^* saw. ^'•' then. ^® named. " take. 142 Authors, Scribes and Readers in And on a mountaijjne that Mydelerd' hyghte, as me tho- thoughte, I was fette^ forth, by ensaumples to knowe Thorugh eche a creature and kynde my Creatoure to lovye. I seigh the sonne and the see, and the sonde after. And where that bryddes and bestes by here makes* thei yeden "*, Wylde wormes in wodes, and wonderful foules With flekked fetheres and of fele* coloures. Man and his make I myghte bothe byholde; Poverte and plenty, bothe pees and werre, Blisse and bale bothe I seigh at ones, And how men token mede', and mercy refused,... Briddes I bihelde that in buskes made nestes ; Hadde nevere wy^'^ witte to worche the leest. I hadde wonder at whom and where the pye lerned To legge the stykkes in whiche she leyeth and bredeth ; There nys wrighte^ as I wene, shulde worche hir neste to paye; If any masoun made a molde^" ther-to, moche wonder it were. And yet me merveilled more how many other briddes Hudden and hileden" her egges ful derne^^ In marcys and mores, for men sholde hem nought fynde. And hudden here egges whan thei there- fro wente. For fere of other foules and for wylde bestis.... Moche merveilled me what maister thei hadde, And who taughte hem on trees to tymbre so heighe. There noither buirn'^ ne beste may her briddes rechen. And sythen I loked upon the see, and so forth upon the sterres, Many selcouthes^* I seygh ben nought to seye nouthe. I seigh floures in the fritthe^^ and her faire coloures, ^ The habitable earth, the Middangeard of Norse mythology and cosmography, which postulated a fairly compact mass of habitable land surrounded on all sides by sea: cf. Section XV., no. 18. - then. ^ fetched. * mates. ^ went. ^ many. ^ lucre. •* wight. " carpenter. ^^ The pattern from which the mason traces his work upon the stone. ^^ covered. ^' secretly. *^ man. '■* marvels. ^^ forest. 14 Medieval Griib-St7'eet 143 And how amonge the grene grasse grewe so many hewes, And somme soure and some swete; selcouthe me thoughte; Of her kynde and her coloure to carpe' it were to longe. Ac tliat moste moeved me and m)- mode chaunged, [Was,] that Resoun rewarded and reuled alle bestes, Save man and his make ; many tyme and ofte No resoun hem folwed; and thanne I rebuked Resoun, and righte til hym-selven I seyde, " I have wonder of the," quod I, " that witty art holden, Wh)' thow ne suwest- man and his make that no mysfait hem folwe?" And Resoun arated me and seyde, " recche the'' nevere, Whi I suffre or nought suffre; thi-self hast nought to done; Amende thow it, if thou myghte ; for my own tyme is to abyde. Suffraunce is a sovereygne vertue and a swift veniaunce*. Who suffreth more than God?" quod he; "no gome^, as I leve ! He mighte amende in a minute-while al that mys-standeth Ac he suffreth for somme mannes good, and so is owre . bettre...." Tho caughte I coloure anon, and comsed to ben aschamed, And awaked ther-with ; wo was me thanne That I in meteles^ ne myghte more have yknowen. And thanne seyde I to my-self and chidde that tyme ; " Now I wote what Do- Wei is," quod I, " by dere God, as me thinketh!" And as I caste up myn eyghen, One loked on me, and axed Of me, what thinge it were? "Ywisse, sire," I seide, " To se moche and suffre more, certes," (quod I,) " is Do- Wei!" {d) Crabbed Age (B, xx. 182, p. 588). And Elde anone [came] after me, and over myne heed yede. And made me balled bifore, and bare on the croune, So harde he yede over myn hed, it wil be seen evre. ^ talk. - followest. * leck thou. * vengeance. * person. * dreams. 144 Authors, Scribes and Readers iii "Sire evel-ytaughte Elde," quod I, "unhende' go with the! Sith vvhanne was the way over mennes hedes? Haddestow be hende," quod I, "thou woldest have asked leve!" "Ye! leve lordeyne!" quod he, and leyde on me with age, And hitte me under the ere, unethe^ may ich here; He buffeted me aboute the mouthe and bette out my tethe, And gyved me in goutes, I may noughte go at large. And of the wo that I was in my wyf had reuthe. And wisshed ful witterly^* that 1 were in heuene.... And, as I seet in this sorwe, I say how Kyndc passed, And Deth drowgh niegh me; for drede gan I quake. And cried to Kynde out of care me brynge. " Loo ! Elde the hoore hath me biseye^ Awreke me, if yowre wille be, for I wolde ben hennes." "Yif thow wilt ben ywroken, wende in-to United And holde the there evre tyl I sende for the, And loke thow conne some crafte ar thow come thennes." "Conseille me, Kynde," quod I, "what crafte is best to lerne?" "Lerne to love," quod Kynde, "and leve of alle othre." "How shal I come to catel'', so to clothe me and to fede?" " And thow love lelly," quod he, " lakke shal the nevere Mete ne worldly wede whil thi lyf lasteth." And there, by conseille of Kynde, I comsed' to rowme Thorw Contricioun and Confessioun, tyl I cam to Unite. {e) Wander- Years (B, vn. 138, p. 246). The prest and Perkyn [in my dream] apposeden either other. And I thorw here wordes a- woke, and waited aboute, And seigh the sonne in the south sitte that tyme, Metelees and monelees on Malverne hulles. (B, vni. I, p. 252.) Thus y-robed in russet I romed aboute, Al a somer sesoun, for to seke Do-Wel. J evil. '^ scarcely. ^ certainly. •* visited. * i.e. Holy Cliuich. * chattels. ' commenced. 14 Medieval Grub-Street 145 (B, XV. I, p. 436.) Ac after my wakyng it was wonder longe, Ar I couth kyndely' knowe what was Do- Wei. And so my witte wex and wanyed, til I a fole were, And somme lakked'' my lyf, allowed* it fewe, And leten^ me for a lorel*, and loth to reverencen Lordes or ladyes or any lyf elles, As persones in pellure® with pendauntes of sylver ; To serjeauntz ne to suche seyde [I] noughte ones, " God loke yow, lordes ! " ne louted faire ; That folke helden me for a fole ; and in that folye I raved Tyl Resoun hadde reuthe on me and rokked me aslepe. (B, XVIII. I, p. 520.) Wolleward and wete-shoed'' went I forth after. As a reccheles renke* that of no wo reccheth, And yede forth like a lorel al my lyf-tyme, Till I wex wery of the worlde, and wylned eft* to slepe. And lened'" me to a Lenten [tide], and longe tyme I slepte ; And of Crystes passioun and penaunce the people that of- raughte, Reste me there, and rutte faste", tyl Ramis-Pabnarutn^- \ Of gerlis** and of Gloria Laus gretly me dremed, And how Osanna by orgonye old folke songen..,. (B, XVIII. 424, p. 548.) Tyl the daye dawed [in my dream] these damaiseles daunced, ^ intimately. - blamed. ■' approved. * considered. ^ wastrel. " furs. ^ i.e. shirtless and barefooted, like a religious penitent; cf. W. Map, De Nugis Curialium, ed. Wright, p. 65. * fellow. 3 again. ^'* "And idled about till Lent-time" (Skeat); but it seems simpler to under- stand "and rested one Lenten-tide." " "And rested there, and dreamt {lit. snored) hard of Christ's passion and penance, that reached to the people." ^'^ Palm Sunday, in the service for which came the words "all glory, laud, and honour," and " hosannah ! " ^^ children. c. 10 • 146 Authors, Scribes and Readers iii That men rangen to tlie resurexioun ; and right with that I waked, And called Kitte my wyf and Kalote my doughter — " Ariseth and reverenceth Goddes resurrexioun, And crepeth to the crosse on knees =, and kisseth it for a juwel ! For Goddes biissed body it bar for owre bote, And it afereth the fende ; for such is the myghte, May no grysly gost glyde there it shadweth ! " Thus I awaked & wrote what I had dremed, And dighte me dereley and dede me to cherche, To here holy the masse, and to be houseled after. In myddes of the masse, tho men yede to offrynge, I fel eftsones a-slepe. 15 A CHRONICLER'S DIFFICULTIES Thomas Burton was nineteenth abbot of the Cistercian monastery of Meaux in Yorkshire. He resigned in 1399, and spent his retirement, until overtaken by blindness, in compiling a history of the monastery down to the year 1404. His preface, which might be paralleled by many similar documents from other houses, shows the difficulties which often beset a medieval chronicler even in a rich abbey, through the carelessness of his predecessors and contemporaries. Burton's words go far to explain the complaint of the Oxford Chancellor Thomas Gascoigne about 50 years later : " In old days the kings had, in the monasteries they had founded, excellent writers of the books of great doctors and of chronicles ; but now, alas ! in our monasteries more books are spoiled and fail and perish than those which are written afresh" {Lib. Verity ed. Rogers, p. 73 ; of. pp. 106, 112, 145). It will be noted that Burton, like Ordericus Vitalis and many other medieval monastic writers, arms himself beforehand against the envy of his domestic critics. Chronicon de Melsa, R.S., vol. i. p. 71. When I see how the memory of the famous men who have been abbots of this house of Meaux hath almost utterly perished through the sloth of negligent men, I am grieved to the heart and must grievously groan and sigh ; not only because so many and excellent lights of the church (that ^ For the ceremony of creeping to the cross, see D. Rock, Church of our FatUrs, ed. Hart and Frere, 1905, vol. IV. pp. •279, 287. 14, 15 A Chronicler s Difficulties 147 is, so many glorious deeds of our noble ancestors) are hidden and set under a bushel, but also because so many wise and learned men our predecessors, while they feared not to heap up the treasures of their own wisdom, took no heed to commit to public writing the praiseworthy acts of their fore- fathers. I therefore, desiring to put an end to this great negligence so far as in me lay (though I knew well mine own utter unworthiness for the task), have at length, after tedious scrutiny, collected together certain ancient scrolls and neglected parchments, some of which I found exposed to the rain [that dripped through the roof], and others set aside to be burned. In these documents I have abridged whatsoever was too lengthy, and explained more clearly whatsoever was obscure ; I have perused the registers, and filled in their omissions from other registers or trustworthy documents ; and these collections I have at last compiled into the following work. Therefore, if any reader find herein matters whereof he knew nothing, let him not suppose that I have composed them out of mine own head ; let him rather be assured that there is nothing in this book but such as I have either found written in other men's books \ or from divers written records, or from frequent and trustworthy hearsay, or from that which I myself have seen. Accordingly I beseech all who shall read this chronicle, such as it is, either to blush that they themselves do nothing to correct ancient neglect, or at least to be ashamed of carping at me who am attempting to amend [this neglect]. Moreover, if any be oft'ended at my brevity of narration or at the rudeness of my style, there will be nothing to hinder any other from writing another such book after his own fashion ; nay, he may do so the more easily, in proportion as the truth is more clearly narrated in this work. ^ Most of his narratives of public events are in fact, after the usual fashion of monastic chroniclers, taken from other well-known writers. 10- 148 Authors, Scribes and Readers iii 16 AUTHOR AND PATRONS The following, put into continuous form, is a cento of autobiographical fragments collected from Froissart's Buisson de Jonece, written in 1366 (liuchon, vol. III. pp. 500-1). [My first patron was] the good lady who now rots in earth, but who was once queen of England ; Philippa was the noble lady called ; God have mercy upon her soul ! Truly am I bound to pray for her and to proclaim her largesse ; for it was she who made and created me. So also her daughter [in law], duchess of Lancaster, who died fair and young, at about the age of 22 years ; gay and glad she was, fresh and sportive ; sweet, simple and of humble semblance, the fair lady whom men called Blanche. The queen's daughter Isabel also, lady of Coucy, fervently must I pray for her soul, for I found her of great courtesy. From the earl of Hereford, again, I once had great comfort, and my lord of Mauny, and his .son of Pembroke. "And the great lord Despenser, who spends so freely in largesse, what hath he done for thee ? " What ? much indeed ! for never was he weary of giving to me, wherever he might be ; no stones or staves, but horses and florins beyond number ; he is one among my masters whom I count for lord. Another who is much familiar with me is the good lord of Coucy, who hath oftentimes filled my hand with good florins of red gold. Beraut also, the count Dauphin of Auvergne, and his son the Duke of Bourbon. Charles, king of France, did me much good in my youth. To the duke and duchess of Brabant owe I great thanks ; for they have always been such to me that I have found theyn and their friends and their household liberal and courteous to me. The duke Albert hath always received me gladly, and also the lords of Blois, Louis and John and Guy, and the good lord of Beaumont and the lord of Moriaume. There are others too who will come and become my masters, for they are young and the future is theirs ; of such may I make record when I write another book ; but these v/hom I now rehearse to you are those who have already given and done liberally to me. I know not if I have named Amedeus count of Savoy : 1 6, 17 Author and Patrons 149 but at Milan, in Lombardy, the good count gave me a cote- hardie worth twenty golden florins'. Reason have I to tell the praises of the noble king of Cyprus, at whose bidding Sir Tiercelet de la Barre gave me at Ferrara forty ducats, one after another. Alas ! what, am I about to forget the king of Scotland ? or the good earl of Douglas, with whom I have had great pastime? Warmly was I welcomed in the lands of the earls of Moray and the Marches, of Sutherland and of Fife ; if I went back to those parts, welcome should 1 be again ; but by that time I should be bald, feeble, im potent, downcast and melancholy ; for m)' life passeth as a shadow. 17 A CHRONICLER'S METHODS (.■Autobiographical fragments from Lord Berners's translation, Pyn son's ed., 1523, 1525 ; reprint of 1812, vol. n. p. 43.) I have silently corrected a good many small errors, especially in proper names, for many of which the early printer was very likely responsible. This cento begins at p. 309 of the Globe Edition of Froissart. The earlier part of this autobiography has already been given in Section II. of the present book. (A.D. 1388.) And therfore I John Froyssart, who have taken on me to cronycle this present hystorie, at the request of the highe renomed prince sir Guy of Chatillon, erle of Blois, lorde of Avesnes, Beaumoot, Schoonhove, and of la Goude, my soverayne mayster and good lorde, consydring in myselfe howe there was no great dedes of armes likely towarde in the parties of Picardy or Flaunders, seyng the peace was made bytwene the duke and them of Gaunt, and it greatly anoyed me to be ydell, for I knewe well that after my deth this noble and highe hystorie shulde have his course, wherin dyvers noble men shulde have great pleasure and delyte ; and as yet I thanke god I have understandyng and remembraunce of all thynges passed, and my wyt quicke and sharpe ynough to conceyve all thinges shewed unto me, touchyng my princypall mater, and my body as yet able to endure and to suffre payne : all thynges consydred, I thought I wolde nat lette to pursue my ' i.e. at the wedding of Lionel Duke of Clarence, at which Froissart (and possibly Chaucer) was present. \ cote-hardie was a close jicket. ■ 150 Authors, Scribes and Readers iii sayde first purpose ; and to thentent to knowe the trouthe of dedes done in farre countries, I founde occasion to go to the highe and mighty prince Gaston, erle of Foix and of Beam; for I knewe well, that if I might have that grace to come into his house, and to be there at leysar, I coude nat be so well enformed to my purpose in none other place of the worlde ; for thyder resorted all maner of knightes and strange squyers, for the great noblenes of the sayd erle. And as I ymagined, so I dyd, and shewed to my redoubted lorde the Erie of Bloyes myne entent ; and he gave me letters of recommenda- cions to therle of Foiz. (p. 50 f.) In the season that I enterprised to go se the erle of Foiz, and to se the dyversities of the countreys, where as I had never ben before, whan I departed fro Carcassone, I lefte the waye to Tolouse and than I came to the good cytie of Pamyers, parteyning to the erle of Foiz, and there I taryed, abydinge for some company goyng into the countre of Bearne, where the erle was; and whan I had taryed there a thre dayes in great pleasure, for the cytie was delectable, standyng among the fayre vynes, and envyroned with a fayre ryver large and clere, called Ariege, and on a day it so fortuned, that thyder came a knyght of the erle of Foiz, fro Avignon warde, called sir Espaenge de Lion, a valyant and an experte man ot armes, about the age of 1. yeres: and so I gate me into his company, and he was greatly desyrous to here of the maters of Fraunce ; and so we were a sixe dayes in our journey, or we came to Orthez: and this knyght every day, after he had sayd his prayers, moost parte all the day after he toke his pastyme with me, in demaundyng of tidynges; and also whan I demaunded any thyng of hym, he wolde answere me to my purpose ; and whan we departed fro Pamyers, we past by the mount of Cosse, whiche was an evell passage, and so we came to the towne and castell of - Artigat, whiche was frenche, hut we passed by it, and so came to dyner to a castell of therle of Foiz, halfe a leage thens, called Carlat, standynge highe on a mountayne; and after dyner the knight sayd to me, sir, let vs ryde toguyder fayre and easely, we have but two leages to ryde to our lodgyng : 17 A Chronicler s Methods 151 and so I was content to do; than the knight said, we have this day passed by the castell of Artigat, which dothe moche domage in this countre, Peter Danchyn kepeth it, and hath taken and stollen out of the realme of France more than thre- score thousande frankes. Than I demaunded how that might be: I shall shewe you, quod the knight.... (p. 53.) Than I said, ah, saint Mary, was this Mongat suche an expert man of armes ? ye truely, sir, quoth he, and in war he dyed, in a place wher as we siiall passe within this thre dayes, in a countre called the Layre, in Bigore, by a towne called La Cieutat. Well sir, quod I, and I shall remembre you therof, whan we come ther. Than the next day the knight had counsayle to passe the ryver by botes by the towne of Casseres : so we rode thider, I and dyd so moche that we past the ryver of Garonne with great payne and parell, for the bote that we were in was nat very great; it coude nat take at one tyme but two horses and their kepars, and they that ruled the bote ; and so whan we were over we rode to Casseres, and abode there all that daye, and in the meane tyme that our supper was a dressyng, this knight said to me, sir Johan, let us go and se the towne ; and so we passed along through the towne, and came to the gate towarde Palaminiche, and went out therat and came to the dykes; than the knyght shewed me a pane of the wall, and said, sir, se you yonder parte of the wall whiche is newer than all the remnant. Yea sir, quod I. Well, quod he, I shall shewe you why it is so ; it is a ten yere past sithe it fortuned..., (p. 54 f.) And than we wente to our supper. And the nexte day we rode alonge by the rj'ver of Garon, and passed by Palaminiche, and than we entred into the lande of the erle of Commynges and Armagnake, and on the other syde was the ryver of Garon, and the lande of therle of Foiz ; and as we rode, this knight shewed me a stronge towne, called Martres- le-Toussac, parteyninge to therle of Comynges, and on the other syde of the ryver on the mountayne he shewed me two castelles parteyninge to the erle of Foiz, the one called Mountmirall, and the other Mountclare: and as we rode bytwene these townes and castelles alonge by the ryver of 152 Authors, Scribes and Readers iii Garon, in a fayre medowe, this knight sayd to me, sir Johan, I have sene here many fayre scrimysshes and encountryngcs bytwene the Foizois and Armynakes, for as than there was no towne nor castell but that was well furnysshed with men of warre, and so they warred eche vpon other. So in suche devyses we rode all that day alonge by the ryver of Garon, and what on the one syde and on the other, we sawe many fayre castelles and fortresses ; all that were on our lyfte hande parteyned to therle of Foiz, and the other syde parteyned to therle of Armynake. And so thus we passed by Montpesac, a fayre castell and a stronge, standyng on an highe rocke, and underneth was the towne and the highe way, and without the towne a lytell, there was a place called la Garde, and a towre bitwene the rocke and the ryver, whiche towre had a gate and a portcolyse of yron ; sixe men might well kepe this passage agaynst all the worlde, for there coulde no man passe but two on a front, what for the towre on the one syde, and the ryver on the other syde. Than I sayd to the knyght, sir, here is a stronge passage, and a myghtie countre. It is true, quod the knight, and though thentre be stronge, yet the erle of Foiz dyde conquere it ones, and he and all his passed the same waye, with the helpe of the archers of Englande, that he had as than in his company, and the great desyre that they had to passe into the countre. Come ryde nere me sir, quod he, and 1 shall shewe you howe it was.... (p. 60 f ) And so with these wordes we came to the towne of Tourney, where as we shulde rest all night. So than the knight seased of his talkyng, and I remembred well where we lefte agaynst the next day, and we were lodged at the signe of the Starre, and toke our ease ; and at supper tyme, the capitayne of Malvoysin, called sir Raymonde of Lane, came to se us, and supped with us, and brought with hym four flaggons of the best wyne that I dranke of in all my journey: those two knightes talked long togider, and whan it was late the knight departed and retourned to the castell of Malvoysin: and the next mornyng we mounted on our horses, and departed fro Tourney and passed by a [ford] the ryver of 17 A Chroniclers Methods 153 Lesse, and rode towarde the cj^tie of Tarbe, and entred into Bigore ; and we lefte the waye to Lourde, to Bagneres, and to the castell of Mountgaylliard on the lyfte hande ; and we rode towarde a vyllage called La Cieutat, and dyd coost it, and came to a wode in the lande of the lorde of Barbasan, and we came nere to a castell called Mascaras, at the entre of the countre of Layre. Than the knight said to mc, Sir Johan, beholde here the place of Layre, and beholde it well and advyse the countre, which semed to me right strange : I thought myselfe but as lost ther, if I had nat ben in the compan)' with that knight: than I remembred the wordes that this knight had shewed me ii. or thre dayes before of that countre of Layre and of the Mongat of Lourde : than I sa)'d to hym, Sir, ye shewed me the last daye, that whan we shulde be in the countre of Layre, that ye wolde shewe me the maner of the Mongat of Lourde. and howe he dyed. It is true, sir, quoth the knyght ; come on and ryde by me, and I shall shewe you... .They fought this day hande to hande; Ernalton Bysset with the Mongat of saynt Basyll ; they dyde many a feate of armes bytwene them, and they fought so long till they were so wery that they coude ayde themselfe no iengar: and ther was slayne on the place two capitayns, the Mongat of Lourde, and on the other parte Ernalton Bysset. Than ceased the batayle by agrement of bothe parties, for they were so wery that they coude scante holde their axes in their handes. Some unarmed them, to refresshe themselfe, and lefte their armure in the place. They of Lourde bare awaye vvith them the Mongat slayne, and the frenchemen bare Ernalton Bysset to Tarbe : and to thentent that this batayle shulde be had in remembraunce, wher as the two squyers fought, there was set a crosse of stone ; beholde yonder is the crosse ; and with those wordes we came to the crosse, and there we sayd for their soules a Pater noster and an Ave maria....By my fay the, sir, than quod I, ye have well declared the mater ; I never herde it before, and nowe that I knowe it, I shall putte it in perpetuall memorie, if god gy\& me grace to retourne into my countrey ; but, sir, if I durste, I wolde layne demaunde of you one thynge ; by what insydent 154 Authors, Scribes and Readers iii the erle ot Foiz sonne dyed ? thanne the knyght studyed a lytell and sayd, Sir, the maner of his dethe is right pytuous, I wyll nat spcke therof ; whan ye come to Orta^se^ ye shall fynde them that wyll shewe you if ye demaunde it. And than I hclde my peace, and we rode tyll we came to Morlaas. The next day we departed and roode to dyner to Bou- garber, and so to Arthez, and there we dranke, and by sonne setting we came to Ortaise ; the knight alighted at his owne lodgynge, and I alyghted at the [sign of the] Mone, wher dvvelte a squier of the erles Ernalton de Pyne, who well receyved me, bycause I was of Fraunce: Sir Spayne of Leon wente to the castell to therle, and founde hym in his galarye, for he had but dyned a lytell before, for the erles usage was alwayes, that it was hyghe noone or he arose out of his bedde, and supped ever at myd night ; the knight shewed hym howe I was come thider, and incontynent I was sente for to my lodgj^nge, for he was the lorde of all the worlde that moost desyred to speke with straungers, to here tidynges. Whan the erle sawe me, he made me good chere, and reteyned me as of his house, wher I was more than xii. wekes, and my horse well entreated; the acquayntaunce of hym and of me was, bycause I had brought with me a boke, whiche I made at the [request] of Wenceslas of Boesme, duke of Luzenbourge and of Brabant, whiche boke was called the Melyador, conteyninge all the songes, baladdes, rundeaux, and vyrelayes, whiche the gentyll duke had made in his tyme, whiche by imagynacyon I had gadered toguyder, whiche boke the erle of Foiz was gladde to se ; and every night after supper I reed theron to hym, and whyle I reed there was none durst speke any worde, bycause he wolde I shulde be well understande, wherin he tooke great solace ; and whan it came to any mater of questyon, than he wolde speke to me, nat in Gascoyne, but in good and fayre frenche. (p. 79 f ) And on a day I sawe a squyer of Gascone, called the Bascot- of Maulyon, a man of a fyftie yere of age, an expert man of armes and a hardy, be semynge: he alighted ^ This is l!crner.s'.s usual form for Orthez. ' Bascot and Bourg (see next page) are variants of basia?d. 17 A Chronicle}' s Methods 155 at my lodgynge in Ortaise, at the signe of the Moone. at Ernalton du Puy's : he brought with hym his somers and caryages, as thoughe he had ben a great barone, and was served bothe he and his servauntes in sylver vessell : and whan I herde his name, and sawe therle of Foiz and every man do hym so moche honour, than I demaunded of sir Espaygne de Lion, and sayd, Sir, is nat this the squyer that departed fro the castell of Trj-galet, whan the duke of Anjou laye at siege before Malvoysin ? Yes, truely, quod he, it is the same, and he is a good man of armes and a good capitayne : and so than I fell in aquayntaunce with hym, for he was lodged there as I was : and a cosyn of his, called Ernalton, capitayn of Carlate in Auvergne, with whome I was well acqua\'nted, helped me to be aquainted with him, and in lykewise so dyd the Bourg of Compare : and at a tyme, as we were talkyng and devysinge of armes, sytting by the fyre abyding for mydnight, that therle shulde go to supper, than this squiers cosyn began to reken up his life, and of the dedes of armes that he had ben at, sayeng howe he had endured as moche losse as profite. Than he demaunded of me, and sayd, sir John, have ye in your hystorie any thyng of this maters that I speke of? and I answered and said, I coude nat tell tyll I here them : shewe forthe your mater, and I wyll gladly here you ; for paradventure I have herde somwhat, but nat all. That is true, quod the squyer; than he began to saye thus :... Than the Bascot sayd to me, sir Johan, are ye well enformed of my lyfe ? yet I have had other adventures, whiche I have nat shewed, nor wyll nat speke of all. Sir, quod I, I have well herde you. (p. 109 f.) Saynt Mary, quod I to the squyer that shewed me this tale, Howe is it that therle of Foiz coude knowe on one day what was done within a day or two before, beynge so farre of? By my faythe, sir, quod he, as it appered well, he knewe it. Than he is a devyner, quod I, or els he hathe messangers that flyeth with the wynde, or he muste nedes have some crafte. The squyer began to laughe, and sayd, Surely he muste knowe it by some arte of Nigromansye, or otherwyse. To saye the trouthe, we can nat tell howe it is, but 156 Authors, Scribes and Readers in by oure ymagiiiacions. Sir, quod I, suche ymaginacion as ye have therin, if it please you to shewe me, I wolde be gladde therof ; and if it be suche a thynge as ought to be secrete, I shall nat publysshe it, nor as long as I am in this countre I shall never speke worde therof. I praye you therof, quod the squyer, for I wolde nat it shulde be knowen that I shulde speke therof ; but I shall shewe you as dyvers men speketh secretelye, whan they be togyder as frendes. Than he drewe me aparte into a corner of the chapell at Ortayse, and than began his tale and sayd :...(p, 113) Lo, sir, quod the squyer, thus I have shewed you the lyfe of Orthone, and howe a season he served the lorde of Corasse with newe tidvnges. It is true, sir, quod I; but nowe as to your firste purpose: Is the erle of Foiz served with suche a messangere? Surely, quod the squier, it is the ymaginacion of many that he hath suche messangers ; for ther is nothynge done in any place, but and he sette his mynde therto, he. wyll knowe it, and whan men thynke leest therof: and so dyde he whan the good knightes and squyers of this countrey were slayne in Portugale, at Juberothe. Some saythe, the knowledge of suche thynges hath done hym moche profyte; for and there be but the value of a spone loste in his house, anone he wyll knowe wher it is. So thus than I toke leave of the squyer and went to other company, but I bare well awaye his tale. (p. 609 fif. A.D. 1394.) Trewe it was, that I sir Johan Froissart, (as at that tyme treasourer and chanon of Chymay, in the erldome of Heynaulte, in the diocese of Liege), had great affectyon to go and se the realme of Englande, whan I had ben in Abbevyle, and sawe that trewce was taken bytwene the realmes of Englande and Fraunce, and other countreis to them conjoyned, and there adherentes, to endure four yeres by see and by lande. Many reasons moved me to make that voyage; one was, bycause in my youthe I hadde been brought up in the court of the noble kynge Edwarde the thyrde, and of quene Philyppe his wyfe, and amonge their chyldren, and other barones of Englande, that as than were alyve, in whome I founde all noblenesse, honour, largesse, and courtesy ; there- fore I desyred to se the countre thynkynge therby I shulde 17 A C /ironic /ers Methods 157 !yve moche the lengar, for I hadde nat been there xxvii. yere before, and I thought, though I sawe natte those lordes that I lefte alyve there, yet at the leest I shulde se their heyres, the whiche shulde do me moche good to se, and also to justifye the hystories and maters that I hadde written of them : and or I toke my journey, I spake with duke Aubert of Bavyere, Erie of Heynaulte, Hollande, Zelande, and lorde of Freese, and with my lorde Wyllyam erle of Ostrevaunt, and with my right honourable lady Jahane duchesse of Brabant and of Lusenbourge, and with the lorde Engerant, lorde Coney, and with the gentyll knyght the lorde of Gomegynes, who in his youthe and myne had been toguyder in Englande in the kynges courte ; in lykewise so had I sene there the lorde of Coucy, and dyvers other nobles of Fraunce, holden great housholdes in London, whan they laye there in hostage for the redempcion of kynge Johan, as than Frenche kynge, as it hath been shewed here before in this hystorie. These sayd lordes, and the Duchesse of Brabant, coun- sayled me to take this journey, and gave me letters of recommendacyon to the kynge of Englande and to his uncles, gavynge the lorde Coucy : he wolde nat write to the kynge bycause he was a Frencheman, therfore he durste nat, but to his doughter, who as than was called duchesse of Irelande ; and I had engrosed in a fayre boke well enlumyned, all the matters of amours and moralytees, that in four and twentie yeres before I hadde made and compyled, whiche greatly quickened my desyre to go into Englande to se kyng Rycharde, who was sonne to the noble prince of Wales and of Acquitayne, (for I hadde nat sene this kynge Richarde sythe he was christened in the Cathedrall churche of Burdeaux, at whiche tyme I was there, and thought to have goone with the prince the journey into Galycia in Spaygne ; and whanne we were in the cytie of Aste, the prince sente me backe into Englande to the Ouene his mother). For these causes and other I hadde great desyre to go into Englande to se the kynge and his uncles. Also I hadde this said fayre boke well covered with velvet, garnysshed with elapses of sylver and gylte, therof to make a present to the 158 Authors, Scribes a7id Readei's 11 1 kynge at my f)TSt commynge to his presence ; I hadde suche desyre to goo this voyage, that the payne and traveyle greved me nothyng. Thus provyded of horses and other necessaries, I passed the see at Calais, and came to Dover, the xii. daye of the moneth of July ; whanne I came there I founde no man of my knowledge, it was so longe sythe I had been in Englande, and the houses were all newly chaunged, and yonge children were become men, and the women knewe me natte, nor I theym ; so I abode halfe a daye and all a nyght at Dover ; it was on a Tuesdaye, and the nexte daye by nyne of the clocke I came to Canterbury, to saynt Thomas shrine, and to the tombe of the noble prince of Wales, who is there entered right richely ; there I herde masse, and made myne offrynge to the holy saynt, and thanne dyned at my lodgynge; and there I was enformed howe kyng Richarde shulde be there the nexte daye on pylgrimage, whiche was after his retourne out of Irelande, where he had ben the space of nyne monethes or there about : the kyng hadde a devocyon to visyte saynt Thomas shrine, and also bycause the prince his father was there buryed. Than I thought to abyde the kynge there, and so I dyde; and the next daye the kynge came thyder with a noble company of lordes, ladyes, and damoselles: and whan I was among them they semed to me all newe folkes, I knewe no persone ; the tyme was sore chaunged in xxviii. yere\ and with the kynge as than was none of his uncles ; the duke of Lancastre was in Acquitayne, and the dukes of Yorke and Glocestre were in other busynesses, so that I was at the firste all abasshed, for if I had sene any auncyent knyght that had ben with kyng Edwarde, or with the prince, I had ben well reconforted and wolde have gone to hym, but I coulde see none suche. Thanne I demaunded for a knyght called sir Rycharde Stury, whyder he were alyve or nat? and it was shewed me yes, but he was at London. Than I thought to go to the lorde Thomas Percy, great seneschall of Englande, who was there with the kyng: so I acquaynted me with hym, and I founde hym right honorable and gracyous, 1 Froissart speaks loosely: a page before he has specified this period as "vingt sept ans tous accomplis." T7 A Chronicler s Methods 159 and he ofifred to present me and my letters to the kynge, wherof I was right joyfull, for it behoved me to have some meanes to bringe me to the presence of suche a prince as the kynge of Englande was ; he wente to the kynges chambre, at whiche tyme the kynge was gone to slepe, and so he shewed me, and badde me retourne to my lodgynge and come agayne. And so I dyde ; and whan I came to the bysshop[)es palays, I founde the lorde Thomas Percy redy to ryde to Ospring, and he counsa\led me to make as than no knowledge of my beynge there, but to foiowe the court : and sayd he wolde cause me ever to be well lodged tyl the kyng shulde be at the fayre castell of Ledes, in Kent. I ordered me after his counsayle and rode before to Ospring ; and by adventure I was lodged in an house where was lodged a gentyll knyght of Englande, called sir Wyllyam Lysle ; he was taryed there behynde the kynge, bycause he had payne in his heed all the nj^ght before : he was one of the kynges prevy chambre ; and whan he sawe that I was a straunger, and as he thought, of the marchesse of Fraunce, bycause of my langage, we fyll in acqua}'ntaunce toguyder : for gentylmen of Englande are curtesse, treatable, and gladde of acquayntaunce ; than he demaunded what I was, and what busynesse I had to do in those parties ; I shewed hym a great parte of my commynge thyder, and all that the lorde Thomas Percy hadde sayd to me, and ordred me to do. He than answered and sayde, howe I coulde nat have a better meane, and that on the Friday the kyng shulde be at the castell of Ledes ; and he shewed me that whan I came there, I shuld fynde there the duke of Yorke the kynges uncle, wherof I was ryght gladde, bycause I had letters dyrected to hym, and also that in his youthe he hadde sene me, in the courte of the noble kyng Edwarde his father, and with the quene his mother. Than on the Friday in the mornyng sir Wylliam Lysle and I rode toguyder, and on the waye I demaunded of hym if he had been with the kynge in the voyage into Irelande. He answered me yes. Than I demaunded of hym the maner of the hole that is in Irelande, called saynt Patrykes purgatorie, if it were trewe that was sayde of it or nat. Than he sayde. i6o Authors, Scribes and Readers iii that of a suretie suche a hole there was, and that he hymselfe and another knyght of Englande hadde ben there whyle the kynge laye at Duvelyn, and sayd howe they entred into the hoole and were closed in at the sonne goynge downe, and abode there all nyght, and the nexte mornyng issued out agayne at the son risyng. Than I demaunded if he had any suche strange sightes or vysions as were spoken of Than he sayd, howe that whan he and his felowe were entred and past the gate that was called the purgatorie of saynt Patryke, and that they were discended and gone downe thre or four paces, discendyng downe as into a cellar, a certayne hoote vapure rose agaynst them, and strake so into their heedes, that they were fayne to sy t downe on the steeres, whiche are of stone ; and after they had sytte there a season, they had great desyre to slepe, and so fell aslepe and slepte there all nyght. Than I demaunded that if in their slepe they knewe where they were, or what visyons they had. He answered me, that in slepyng they entred into great ymaginacyons and in marvey- lous dremes, otherwyse than they were wont to have in their chambres : and in the mornynge they issued out, and within a shorte season clene forgate their dremes and visyons, wher- fore he saj^de he thought all that mater was but a fantasy. Than I lefte spekyng any further of that matter, bycause I wolde fayne have knowen of hym what was done in the voyage in Irelande: and I thought as than to have demaunded what the kyng had done in that journey ; but than company of other knyghtes came and fell in communycacion with hym, so that I lefte my purpose for that tyme. Thus we rode to Ledes, and thyder came the kyng and all his company, and there I founde the lorde Edmonde duke of Yorke. Than I went to hym and delyvered my letters fro the erle of Heynaulte his cosyn, and fro the erle of Ostrevaunt. The duke knewe me well, and made me good chere, and sayde : Sir Johan, holde you alwayes nere to us, and we shall shewe you love and courtesy : we are bounde therto for the love of tyme past, and for love of my lady the olde Ouene my mother, in whose courte ye were, we have good remembraunce therof Than I thanked hym as reason requyred. So I was advaunsed 17 A Chronicler s Methods i6i by reason of hym and sir Thomas Percy, and sir William Lysle ; by their meanes I was brought into the kynges chambre, and into his presence by meanes of his uncle the duke of Yorke. Than I delyvered my letters to the kyng, and he toke and reed them at good leysar. Than he sayd to me that I was welcome, as he that hadde ben and is of the Englysshe courte. As on that daye I shewed nat the kynge the boke that I hadde brought for hym, he was so sore occupyed with great affayres, that I had as than no leysar to present my boke. The kyng was sore busyed there in coun- sayle for two great and mightye maters : (p. 612.) And whan they had taryed at Ledes a four dayes, the kyng retounied to Rochester and so to Elthame, and so I rode forthe in the kynges company. (p. 618.) I have delyght to write this mater at length, bycause to enfourme you of the trouthe: for I that am auctour of this hystory was presente in all these maters, and this valyaunt knyght syr Rycharde Sturye shewed me every thynge ; and so it was, that on the sonday folowynge all suche as had ben there were departed, and all their coun- saylours, except the duke of Yorke, who abode styll about the kynge; and the lorde Thomas Percy and syr Rycharde Stury shewed my busynesse to the kynge. Than the kynge desyred to se my booke that I had brought for hym : so he sawe it in his chambre, for I had layde it there redy on his bedde. Whanne the kynge opened it, it pleased hym well, for it was fayre enlumyned and written, and covered with crymson velvet, with ten botons of sylver and gylte, and roses of golde in the myddes, wyth two great elapses gylte, rychely wrought. Than the kyng demaunded me wherof it treated, and I shewed hym how it treated maters of love ; wherof the kynge was gladde and loked in it, and reed it in many places, for he coulde speke and rede French very well ; and he tooke it to a knyght of hys chambre, named syr Rycharde Creadon, to beare it into hys secrete chambre : and the same sonday I fell in acquayntaunce with a Squyer of Englande, called Henry Castyde, an honest man and a wyse, and coud well speke Frenche : he companyed wyth me, bycause he saw the c. ,, 1 62 Authors, Scribes arid Readers in kyng and other lordes made me good chere, and also he had sene the bokc that I gave to the kyng: also syr Rycharde Stury had shewed hym howe I was a maker of hystories. Than he sayd to me as herafter foloweth.,.. (p. 763.) This kyng Richarde reigned kynge of Englande xxii. yere in great prosperity holdyng great estate and sig- norie : there was never before any kyng of Englande that spente so moche in his house as he dyd, by a C. M. [icx),ooo] florens every yere : for I sir John Froissart, chanon and treasourer of Chimay, knevve it well, for I was in his court more than a quarter of a yere togider, and he made me good chere, bycause that in my youthe I was clerke and servaunt to the noble kynge Edwarde the thirde his grauntfather, and with my lady Philyp of Heynault, quene of Englande, his grandame ; and whan I departed fro hym it was at Wynsore, and at my departynge the kyng sent me by a knight of his, called sir John Golofer, a goblet of sylver and gylte, weyeng two raarke of silver, and within it a C. nobles, by the which I am as yet the better, and shal be as long as I lyve ; wherfore I am bounde to praye to God for his soule, and with moche sorowe I write of his dethe. 18 POET AND KING John Gower was of a good Kentish family. He was possibly a merchant; certainly he did part of his literary work in a house within the precincts of the priory of St Mary Overey, Southwark ; within this priory he was married in 1397, and he probably lived there until his death. The follow- mg lines are from the first redaction of his Confessio Aniantis^ cd. Macaulay, p. 2 ; they describe the occasion which led him to compose this book. Bot for men sein, and soth it is, That who that al of wisdom writ It dulleth ofte a mannes wit To him that schal it aldai rede^ For thilke cause, if that ye rede, I wolde go the middel weie And wryte a bok betwen the tweie, ^ advise. 17-^9 Poet and King 163 Somwhat of lust, somewhat of lore, That of the lasse or of the more Som man mai lyke of that I vvryte : And, for that fewe man endite In oure englissh, I thenke make A bok for king Richardes sake. To whom belongeth my ligeance With al myn hertes obeissance In al that evere a liege man Unto his king may doon or can... As it bifel upon a tyde,... In Temse whan it was flowende, As I be bote cam rowende, So as fortune hir tyme sette. My liege lord par chaunce I mette; And so befel, as I cam nyh. Out of my bot, whan he me syh. He bad me come in to his barge. And whan I was with him at large, Amonges othre thinges seid He hath this charge upon me leid, And bad me doo my besynesse * That to his hihe worthinesse Som newe thing I scholde boke^ That he himself it mihte loke After the forme of my writynge. And thus upon his comandynge Myn herte is wel the more glad To write so as he me bad. 19 HOCCLEVE'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY We know a little of Thomas Hoccleve's life from scattered entries in the Privy Council Proceedings and the Patent and Pells-Issue Rolls ; but for most we are indebted to autobiographical passages in his own poems. These have been admirably pieced together by Furnivall, in his preface to the first volume of the poet's works (E.E.T.S., Extra Series, LXi. 1892). The following sequence is almost entirely in Furnivall's or in Hoccleve's 1 write in a book. II — 2 164 AutJiors, Scribes and Readers in own words : but the present compiler has silently made several emenda- tions which seem required by the sense, and made other slight alterations to avoid a multiplicity of notes. In his Dialog, finished in 1422, he says "of age I am fifty winter and thre." He must therefore have been born in 1368-9. The date of his cnglishing of De Regiviinc Friticipum is 141 1-12 ; and in that poem he says that he had been then 24 years, come Easter, in the Privy-Seal Office. "In the office of the prive-seel I wone; To write there is my custume and wone Unto the seel ; and have twenty yere And foure, come Estren, and that is nere." — Ed. Wright, p. 29. He must therefore have gone into that office in 1387-8, when he was 19 or 20 years of age. Of his wild youth in the office of the Privy Seal he gives an account in his Male Regie (pp. 28 ff.). My freendes seiden un-to me ful ofte, My mis-reule me cause wolde a fit ; And redden^ me, in esy wyse and softe, A lyte and lyte to withdrawen it ; But that nat mighte synke in-to my wit, So was the lust y-rootid in myn herte. And now I am so rype un-to my pit^, That scarsely I may it nat astertel... Reson me bad and redde as for the beste, To ete and drynke in tyme attemprely ; But wilful youthe nat obeie leste"* Un-to that reed, ne sette nat ther-by. I taken have of bothe outrageously, And out of tyme nat tv/o yeer or three, But xx'i wyntir past, continuelly, Excesse at borde hath leyd his knyf* with me.... The outward signe of Bachus and his lure. That at his dore hangith day by day, Excitith [us] to taaste of his moisture So often, that man can nat wel seyn " nay." 1 advised. ^ grave. ^ escape. * cared not to obey. * taken his place as a fellow guest. 19 Hoccleves Autobiography 165 For me, I seye I was enclyned ay With-outen daunger thithir for to hye me, But if swich charge up on my backe lay That I moot it forbere, as for a tyme Or but I were nakidly bystad' By force of the penyless maladie, For thanne in herte kowde I nat be glad, Ne lust had noon to Bachus, hows to hie. Fy ! Lak of coyne departith compaignie, And hevy purs, with herte liberal, Qwenchith the thirsty hete of hertes drie, Wher chynchy- herte hath ther-of but smal. I dar nat telle how that the fresshe repeir Of Venus femel lusty children deere. That so goodly, so shaply were, and feir, And so plesant of port and of maneere, And feede cowden al a world with cheere, And of atyr passyngly wel byseye*, At Poules Heed'' me maden ofte appeere To talke of mirthe & to disport & pleye. Ther was sweet wyn ynow thurgh-out the hous, And wafres^ thikke; for this conpaignie That I spake of been sumwhat likerous. Where as they mowe a draght of wyn espie — Sweete, and in wirkynge hoot for the maistrie* To warme a stomak with — thereof they dranke. To suffre them paie had been no courtesie: That charge I tooke, to wynne love and thanke.... ^ bare of coin (nakedly bested). ' niggardly. * arrayed. * The " Paul's Head " was one of those city taverns of which a contemporary writes so feelingly in a corner of a Trin. Coll. Canibs. MS. (599, fol. 308, printed by Dr M. R. James in his Catalogue). He that wyll in Es[t]chepe ete a goose so fat With harpe pype and song He must slepe in Newgate on a mat Be the nyght never so long. [As Aristotle saith] ' sweet cakes. " strength. i66 Authors, Scribes and Readers ill Of him that hauntith taverne of custume, At shorte wordes, the profyt is this : In double wyse his bagge it shal consume, And make his tonge speke of folk amis ; For in the cuppe seelden founden is, That any wight his neigheburgh commendith. Beholde & see what avantage is his, That god, his freend, and eek himself, offendith But oon avauntage in this case I have : I was so ferd with any man to fighte, Cloos kepte I me; no man durste I deprave^ But rownyngly^ I spak, nothyng on highte. And yit my wil was good, if that I mighte For lettynge of my manly cowardyse, That ay of strookes impressid the wighte^, So that I durste medlen in no wyse. Wher was a gretter maister eek than y, Or bet aqweyntid at Westmynstre yate. Among the taverneres namely, And cookes, whan I cam eerly or late ? I pynchid nat at* them in myn acate^ But paied them all that they axe wolde ; Wherfore I was the welcomere algate, And for a ' verray gentil man' y-holde. And if it happid on the Someres day That I thus at the taverne hadde be, Whan I departe sholde & go my way Hoom to the privee seel, so wowed® me Heete & unlust and superfluitee To walke un-to the brigge & take a boot That nat durste I contrarie them all three. But did as that they stirred me, god woot. And in the wyntir, for the wa}' was deep, Un-to the brigge I dressid me also, ' abuse. '^ in a whisper. •* weight. * chaffered not with. * bareain. " wooed. 19 Hoccleves Autobiography 167 And ther the bootmen took up-on me keep, For they my riot knewen fern ago : With them was I y-tugged to and fro, So wel was him that I with wolde fare ; For riot paieth largely everemo ; He styntith nevere til his purs be bare. Othir than ' maistir ' callid was I nevere, Among this meynee, in myn audience. Me thoghte I was y-maad a man for evere : So tikelid me that nyce reverence, That it me made larger of despense Than that I thoght han been. O flaterie ! The guyse of thy traiterous diligence Is, folk to mescheef hasten & to hie.... No force of al this ! go we now to watche By nightirtale out of al mesure; For, as in that, fynde kowde I no matche In al the Privee Seel with me to endure ; And to the cuppe ay took I heede & cure. For that the drynke apalle^ sholde noght But whan the pot emptid was of moisture. To wake aftirward came nat in my thoght. But whan the cuppe had thus my neede sped, (And sumdel more than necessitee,) With repleet spirit wente I to my bed. And bathid there in superfluitee. But on the morn was wight of no degree So looth as I to twynne fro my cowche. Hoccleve meant at first to be a priest : — " I whilom thought Have ben a preest; now past is the raas," De Reg., p. 52, 11. 1 147-8. He probably entered the Privy-Seal Office till he could get a benefice pro- mised him, and then meant to be ordained and take the endowment. But no benefice came. Instead, after twelve years' office-work, Hoccleve got from Henry IV., on Nov. 12, 1399 (six weeks after his accession), the grant of ;^io a year for life, until the King should promote him to an ecclesiastical benefice, without cure of souls, with ^"20 a year, in other ^ slacken. 1 68 Authors, Scribes and Readers in words, quarter him on a convent. Then, as no benefice or corrody' was given him, he tired of waiting for it, and drifted into marriage : Had. 4866, If 26, bk, ed. Wright, p. 53, st. 208, 1. 1456. I gasyd longe firste, & waytid faste After some benefice^ and whan non cam, By proces^ I me weddid atte laste. And, God it wot, it sore me aghaste To bynde me where I was at my large; But done it was : I toke on me that charge. (HOCCLEVE.) He married for love, not money {Reg. 56/1559-61), and after his "skittish youth" (as the old Beggar terms his own gay time, Reg. 22/590), settled down into poverty and sad old age. Over his writing or copying work, Hoccleve groans to his old Beggar, De Reg., pp. 36-7. Harl. 4866, If 18, bk, st. 142. Many men, fadir, wenen that writynge No travaile is ; thei hold it but a game : — Art hath no foe, but swich folk unkonynge : — But who-so list disport hym in that same, Let hym continue, and he shal fynd it grame' : It is wel gretter labour than it seemeth ; The blynde man of coloures al wrong deemeth. A writer mot thre thynges to hym knytte, And in those may be no disseverance ; Mynde, ee and hand, non may fro othir flitte, But in them mot be joint contynuance. The mynd, al hoole with-outen variance, On the ee and hand awayte mot alway, And thei two eek on hym ; it is no nay. Who-so schal wryte, may nat holde a tale With hym and hym, ne synge this ne that; But alle his wittes grete and smale Ther must appere, and halden them ther-at, 1 corrody, originally a month's allowance, is most often used in the sense of a pension from a monastery, in kind or in money. Such corrodies were generally bought, or exchanged for some quid pro quo ; but kings frequently claimed and exercised the privilege of compelling monasteries of royal foundation to grant corrodies to royal clerks, etc. - in process of lime. ^ grief. { 19 Hoccleves Autobiograpky 169 And syn he speke may, ne synge nat, But bothe two he needes moot forbere: H?s labour to hym is the alengere'. Thise artificers, se I day be day, In the hotteste of al her bysnysse, Talken and synge, and make game and play, And forth thir labour passith with gladnesse ; But we laboure in traveillous stilnesse; We stowpe and stare upon the shepes skyn, And keepe muste our song and wordes in. Wryt^-ng also doth grete annoyes thre. Of which ful fewe folkes taken heede Sauf we oure self; and thise, lo, thei be: Stomak is one, whom stowpyng out of dreede Annoyeth soore ; and to our bakkes neede Mot it be grevous ; and the thrid, our eyen, Up-on the-whyte mochel for to pr)'en. \\^hat man that thre and twenti yere and more In wryting hath continued, as have I, - I dar wel sayn it smerteth hym ful sore In every veyne and place of his body; And eyen most it greeveth trevvely Of any crafte that man can ymagyne : Fadir, in feith, it spilt* hath wel-ny myne. Yet he is too vain to wear spectacles, he tells us (st. 7). Thow foul book, un-to m\' lord seye also. That pryde ys un-to me so greet a fo. That the spectacle forbedith he me. And hath y-doon of tyme yore ago ; And, for my sighte blyve hastith me fro, And lakkith that that sholde his confort be, No wonder thogh thow have no beautee. Out up-on pryde, causer of my wo ! My sighte is hurt thurgh hir adversitee. (HOCCLEVE.) ' more grievous (ailing). * spoiled. i^o Authors, Scribes and Readers in 20 THE POET'S PARADISE (rt) Piers Plowman^ B, x. 300-5, p. 308. •' For if hevene be on this erthe, and ese to any soule, It is in cloistere or in scole, be many skilles I fynde; For in cloistre cometh no man to chied ne to fighte, But alle is buxumnesse^ there and bokes, to rede and to lerne." This is not an original sentiment. St Jerome writes {Super Matthiam, c. 18) "I confess the truth ; if there be a paradise on this earth, it is either in a monastery or in the wilderness." Peter of Blois (Ep. xii.) writes "for, according to the feeling of my heart, if there be a paradise in this present life, it is either in cloister or in the schools." Monasteries not infrequently took in boarders ; and we have several instances of this in literary history. John Gower spent his last days in the monastery of St Mary Overey, as Chaucer at Westminster ; but both these poets had their own private houses within the precincts. Robert Henryson, in his Abbay Walk, may intend to represent himself under the same conditions : — Allone as I went up & down In ane Abbay was fair to se, Thinkand quhat consolatioun Was best in-to adversitie.... John Awdelay, however, the Shropshire poet, seems to have been an ordinary pensioner or corrodian in the abbey of Haughmond. The first of the three following autobiographical extracts is translated from the Latin : the other two are in his own words. He wrote a series of religious poems which have no special literary merit. {Poems of Joh7i Audelay, Percy Soc, 1844, pp. vi and x: see also Mod. Lang. Review, vol. V. pp. 473 ff.) Capellanus, in medieval Latin, is frequently used in the sense of hired priest, like the modern curate. {b) This book was composed by John Awdelay, Capellanus (who was blind and deaf), during this his visitation [from God], to the honour of God and the example of other men, in the monastery of Haughmond, A.D. 1426 : may God have mercy on his soul. (c) As I lay seke in my langure, In an abbay here be west, This boke I made with grete dolour. When I myght not slepe ne have no rest; ^ obedience. 20, 21 The Poet's Paradise 171 Ofift with my prayers I me blest, And sayd \v\€ to heven kyng, I knowlache, Lord, hit is the best. Mekel^ to take thi vesetyng, Ellis wot I wil that I were lorne. Of al lordis be he blest ! Fore al that ye done is fore the best, Fore in thi defawte was never mon lost, That is here of womon borne. {cl) The MS. concludes with the following lines, which inform the reader that he may have a copy on condition that he will pray for the author's soul. Cujus finis bonus ipsuni totuni bonjun, Finito libro, sit laus et gloria Christo ! No mon this book he take away, Ny kutt owte noo leef, y say for why ; For hyt ys sacrelege, sirus, y yow say, [He] beth acursed in the dede truly ; Yef ye wil have any copi, Askus leeve and ye shul have, To pray for hym specialy, That hyt made your soules to save, Jon the blynde Awdelay ; The furst prest to the Lord Strange he was. Of thys chauntre here in this place, That make thys bok by Goddus grace, Deeff, sick, blynd, as he lay, Cujus anime propicietur Dens. 21 LYDGATE'S EARLY DAYS John Lydgate was born about 1372, and therefore was a contemporary of Hoccleve. Like Hoccleve, he was a devoted pupil of Chaucer ; but he wrote not only far more but also far better poetry than his contemporary. Without laying too much stress on the following confession of his youth- ful indiscipline, we may infer from his poems in general that he had no deep vocation for the monastic life. Mifior Poems of Lydgate, E.E.T.S., Extra Series, 1910, pp. 351 ff., with a few alterations for the sake of clearness. 172 Authors, Scribes and Readers in Duryng the tyme of this sesoun ver, (I mene, the sesoun of my yeres grene,) Gynnyng fro chyldhode strecched up so far To the yeres accounted ffull fyftene, B' experyence, as it was weel sene, The geryssh' sesoun, straunge of condiciouns, Disposed me to unbrydeled passiouns. Voyd of resoon, given to wilfuhiesse, Froward to vertu, of thryfte take h'tel hede, Loth to lerne, I loved no besynesse, Save pley or merth ; was straunge to spelle or rede, Folowyng alle appetytes longyng to childhede, Lyghtly turnyng, wylde and selden sad, Wepyng for nowght, and anone after glad. For litel wroth to stryve with my felawe, As my passiouns did my brydell lede, Of the yerd- sumtyme I stood in awe, To be skowr[g]ed, that was al my drede ; Loth toward skole, I lost my tyme in dede, Lyke a yong colt that ran without brydell, Made I my frendes ther good to spend in ydell. I had in custome to come to skole late, Nat for to lerne, but for a contenaunce*, With my felawes was redy to debate, To Jangle or Jape was sett all my pleasaunce ; Wherof rebuked, this was my chevesaunce*, To forge a lesyng, and therupon to muse, Whanne I trespaced, my-selven to excuse. To my better I did no reverence. Of my sovereynes gaf no force' at all, . Wex obstinat by Inobedience Ran in-to gardeynes, apples ther I stall ; To gadre frutes spared nedir hegge nor wall. To plukke grapes in other mennes vynes Was I more redy, than for to sey matynes. 1 garish. ^ stick. * appearance. * trick. * heed. 21 Lydgates Early Days ly^ My lust was all to skorne folke and jape, Shrewed turnes ever among them to use ; To skoffe and mowen like a wantoun ape ; Whan I dyd evele, other I koude accuse ; My wyttes fyve in waste I did all use, Redier cheri-stones for to telle Than gon to chirche, or here the sacryng belle. Loth to ryse, lother to bedde at eve, With unwasshe hondes redy to dyner, My pater noster, my crede, or my beleve, Cast atte cok\ lo, this was my maner ! Waved with eche wynd, as doth a reedspere, Snybbed of my frendes, sucche teeches^ t' amende, Made a deef ere, list not to them attende. A chyld resemblyng which was not lyke to thryve, Froward to God, rekles in his servyce. Loth to correccioun, slow my-selve to shryve, All good themes redy to despise, Chief bel-wether of [feynyd] truandice, This is to mene, myself I coude feyne, Sicke like a truant, and felt no maner peyne. My port, my pas, my foot allwey unstable, My loke, myn eyen, unsure and vagabound, In alle my werkes sodeynly chaungeable, To all good themes contrarye I was founde. Now oversadd, now mornyng, now jocunde, Wilfull, rekles, made stertj^ng as a hare. To folowe my lust for no man wold I spare. Entryng this tyme into relygioun, Onto the plowe I put forth myne bond, A yere complete made my professioun, Consideryng litel charge of thilke bond ; ^ Compare the moral saw scratched on a pillar of Earrington church (Cambs.) in a 15th century hand : Lo fol how the day goth, Cast foly now to the Cok ; Ryth sone tydyth the Wroth, It ys almast xij of the clok. * faults. 174 Authors, Scribes atid Readers in Of perfeccioun ful gode exaumple I fond, Ther techyng good, in me was [all] the lacke, With Lothes vvyf I loked often abak. Taught of my maystres by vertuous disciplyne My lookes restreyne, and kepe clos my syght, Of blyssed Benet to folovve the doctryne, And bere me lowly to every maner wyght. By the advertence of myn inward syght, Cast to godvvard of hole affeccioun, To folowe thempryses of my professioun. His holy rewle was onto me rad, And expouned in ful notable wyse, By vertuous men, religious and sad, Ful weel experte, discrete, prudent, and wys Of observaunces of many a gostly empryse ; I herd all weel ; but, touchyng to the dede, Of theis when taught I toke litel hede ! Of religioun I wered a blak habite, Only outward as by apparence, To folowe that charge I savoured but ful lyte, Save by a maner connterfete pretence ; But in effecte ther was none existence^, Like the image of Pygmalyon, Shewed I lyfly, and was made but of ston. Upon the ladder, with staves thryes thre The ix. degrees of vertuous mekenesse Called in the Reule 'grees'^ of humylite,' Wheron t' ascende my feet me lyst not dresse. But by a maner feyned fals humblenesse. So covertly, when folkes were present, One to shewe outward, another in myn entent. First, where as I forsook myne owne wylle — Shette with a lock of obedience, T' obeye my sovereynes, as it was ryght and skylle. To folowe the skole of perfygt pacience, ^ reality. * steps. 21 Lydgates Early Days 175 To myn eymes dooii worshep and reverence — Folowyng the revers, I toke all another weye, What I was boden, I koude weel disobeye. With tonge at large and broteP conscyence, Ful of vvordes, dis-ordinat of language, Rekeles to kepe my lyppes in silence, Mouth, eyen, and eres token ther avauntage, To have ther cours onbrydeled by outrage, Out of the reynes of attemperaunce, To sensualyte gaf I the governaunce. Watche out of tyme, ryot and dronkenesse, Unfructuous talkyng, intemperat diete, To veyn fables I dyd myn eres dresse, Fals detraccioun [also] was to me swete, To talke of vertu me thought it was not mete To my corage nor my compleccioun, Nor naught that sovvned toward perfeccioun. One with the firste to take my disporte, Last that arose to come to the quere, On contemplacioun I fond but small comforte. Holy histories did to me no chier, I savoured more in good wyne that was clere, And every houre my passage for to dresse, As I seyd erst, to ryot or excesse. I kowde grucche, and fond no cause why, Causeless ofte compleynyng on my fare, Geynst my correcciouns answered frowardly, Withoute reverence, list no man to spare, ' Of all vertu and pacience I was bare, Of rekles youthe I list non hede to take. What Cryst lesu suffred for my sake. Which now remembrying in my later age, Tyme of my childhode, as I reherse shall, Wythinne xv [yeres], holdyng my passage Myd of a cloyster, deplete vpon a wall, ^ evil. 176 Authors, Scribes and Readers 11 1 I saugh a crucifyx, whos woundes were not smalle, With this [word] " vide," wreten there besyde, " Behold my mekenesse, O child, and lave thy pryde." The which word, whan I dyd vndirstond, In my last age takyng the sentence, Theron remembryng, my penne 1 toke in honde, And gan to wryte with humble reverence, On this word, " vide " with humble diligence, In remembraunce of Crystes passioun, This litel dite, this compilacioun.... 22 OUR FIRST ANTIQUARY William of Worcester or William Botoner (1415-82?) is probably the earliest of known English antiquaries. The son of well-to-do Bristol citizens, he drifted into the service of Sir John Fastolf ; and the dispute over that knight's rich inheritance led to a quarrel between Worcester and Sir John Paston which seems less discreditable to the former than to the latter. To form an adequate notion of his career, the reader should refer to Prof Tait's article in the Diet. Nat. Biog. LXn. 441, and compare it with the biography of John Leland {ibid. XXlll. 13). The following extracts from the Pasto?i Letters (1900) illustrate his trials as a servant in Fastolf s household and as a litigant for some provision after Fastolf's death. He seems to have got a reasonable reward for his services in the end, according to the notions of that time ; ill. 73. Letter to John Paston, I. 300, A.D. [i454]- Aftyr dewe recomendacion wyth my simple service pre- cedyng, please your maistershyp to wete, that as to such remembraunce that ye desyre me to contynew forth to the uttermost, I shall wyth gode wille, so as my maister wille licence me, as oft as I can, th' officer to hafe leysure to be wyth me, for ye know well I can not do it alone, etc. And where as ye of your pleasure wryte me or calle me Maister Worcestr, I pray and requyre yow foryete that name of maistershyp, for I am not amended by my maister^ of a ferthyng yn certeynte, but of wages of housold in comune entaunt come nows plaira^. By Worcestr or Botoner I hafe [v.y.] yerly, all costs born, to help pay for bonetts that I lose. ^ I am no better for being master. * "As much as we please." Botoner fed with the servants, where there was rough plenty. 2 1, 22 Our First .'Intiqiiary 177 I told so my maister thys weke, and he seyd me yerstenday he wyshed me to hafe be a preest, so I had be disposed, to hafe gofe me a lyvyng by reson of a benefice, that anothyr most gefe it, as the Byshop, but he wold ; and so I endure inter egenos lit sej'vus ad aratrum^. Forgefe me, I wryte to make )'o\v laugh ; and our Lord bryng my maister yn a better mode for othyrs as for me. At Caister, ijd day of September. I pray yovv displeser not your servaunt be so long, for my maister lettet hym. Your, W. VVyrcestyr. I. 369, A.D. 1456. To John Paston. My maister demaundyth me sondry tymes when ye shall be here. I coude not sey till thys day be passed. William Geney shall be here to morn, so wold Jesus ye were her then. I asked licence to ryde yn to my contree, and my maistr dyd not graunt it ; he seyd hys wille was for to make, etc. Y ansuerd, it fyt not me to know it. God gefe hym grace of holsom councell, and of a gode disposicion ; non est opus iinius (tiei, nee iinius septimance'^. Wryt hastly, vj. day Januar. W. Botoner. I. 403, A.D. [1456]. To John Paston. Please you to wete that I hafe remembred of the langage that I hafe late lerned W. Barker had to yow and othyrs of his accomptes apposyng'*, and of that they be not hole bethyn* us, but yn division, etc. Sir, as I may sey yow, hyt was nevere othyrwyse, ne nevere ys lyke to be ; for now the}^ hafe do with Lowys, he that ys next shall be yn the same as was yn gelosye; for when my maister comaundyth such as ' "Among the destitute, as a serf at the plough." - "It will take more than one day — or one week for the matter of that — [to amend Fastolf's temper]." •' The apposing of accouiiis was the calling of the responsible person to reckoning. ■* between. C. 13 178 Authors, Scribes and Readers m of force (by reson of her \tJieir\ occupacion) most be nere hym, to do a message to hys felow, or question of hym, hyt shall be ymagyned amonges our felyshyp that he doth make maters to my maister. And so it ys ymagyned of me when I wryte lettres to London, to Bokkyng or Barker, that yn such maters as please hem not, then it ys my doing ; yfT it take well to theyr entent, then it ys her \their\ doyng. And yn gode feyth, so it was ymagyned of me and othyrs that wrote, by my maister comaundment, to Castre, to the parson of Blofeld, Geffrey Spyrlyng, and othyrs, that of such maters as was lykyng to hem and coude be sped by help of my maister frendes as by theyr solicytyng, then it was seyd that it was theyr avice, labour, and doyng And yff the maters went not to my maister entent, ne that they coude not bryng aboute the mater, then it was imagyned and jangled that it was my wrytyng and doyng. I bare nevere my maister purs, ne condyt nevere chargeable mater alone of hys yn lawe, for my discrecion ne connyng know not whate such maters menyth — I am eased of my spyrytes now that I hafe expressed my leude^ menyng, because of my felow Barker, as of such othyr berkers ayenst the mone^ to make wysemen laugh at her folye. Our Lord kepe yow. Wryt at Castre the xij day of October. Your W. Botoner.... Foryefe me of my leude lettre wrytyng, and I pray yow laugh at it, I. 509. To an anonymous friend, complaining of John Paston's un- friendliness in the matter of Fastolf's inheritance. My maister also (God yelded is^ sowle) graunted to me a liffelode accordyng to my degre, that I, my wiffe, and my childre, schulde have cause to prey for hym. My wiffes uncle was present in his chapell at Castre as wele as my wiffe, and comaunded her oncle to chese'* the londe. This is trowthe be the blissed Sacrament that I receyved at Pasch. And because I demaunded my right and duute of my Maister ^ uneducated. - against the moon. ^ repay it to his. * choose. 22. 2 3 Our First Antiquary 179 Paston, he is not plesed. I have lost more thanne x. mark worthe londe in my maister servyce, b}' God, and not I be' releved, alle the woride schal knowe it elles that I have to gret wrong. VVolde God I kowde plese bothe Maister Paston and my oncle in reson, who preserve you. Wrete hastely the vij. day of Feveryere. Your, W. Botoner, dit Wurcester. 23 TRANSLATORS' DIFFICULTIES The plea that the pre- Reformation Church upheld the principle of "the open Bible " rests mainly on extreme ignorance of medieval con- ditions, but sometimes on demonstrable perversions of well-known facts, which are alluded to as notorious not only by Wyclififites, but even by orthodox writers ; see the evidence collected by Miss A. C. Panes in her introduction to A XIV. Century English Biblical Version, 1904, pp. xxviii-xxxi. {a) How much prejudice existed in the clerical mind against the vulgarization of all Latin works (even when, as in the case of Higden's chronicle, the book treats only incidentally of religious subjects) may be gathered from Trevisa's Dialogue between a Lord and a Clerk'-, which is here given from the edition of Trevisa's Higden printed by Peter Treveris in 1527 (fol. 2d). It will be noted that Trevisa, like some monastic authors, anticipates considerable difficulty from "bakbyters." The Gierke. A grete dele of these bokes stondeth moche by holy wryte, by holy doctours and by phylosophye ; thenne these bokes sholde not be translated into Englysshe. The Lorde. It is wonder that thou makest so febel argu- mentes, and haste goon so longe to scole. Arystoteles bookes and other bookes also of logy ke and of phylosophye were trans- lated out of greke in to latyn. Also, at prayenge of kyno- Charles, Johan Scot translated Denys bokes out of greke in to latyn, and then out of latyn in to frensshe ; then what hath Englysshe trespaced, that it might not be translated into Englysshe? Also Kynge Alurede that founded the unyver- syte of Oxenford translated the beste lawes in to Englysshe ' unless I be. - This, with other valuable prefaces of the same kind, may be found in modernized spelling, but complete, in Mr A. W. Pollard's XV. Century Prose and Verse, 1903, pp. 193 ff. 12 — 2 i8o Authors, Sc7'ibcs and Reader's in tongue, and a grele dele of the Psalter out of latyn in to Englysshe, and caused Wyrefryth bysshop of wyrcette to translate saynt Gregoryes bokes the Dyalogues out of latyn in to Saxons. Also Cedmon of whytby was enspyi^ed of the holy goost and made wonder Poysyes in Englysshe nigh of all the storyes of holy wryte. Also the holy man Beda trans- lated saynt Johans gospell out of latyn in to englysshe. Also thou wotest [where] the Apocalypsys is wryten in the walles and roof of chappell bothe in latyn and in frensshe^ Also the gospell and prophecye and the ryght fayth of holy chyrche muste be taught and preched to Englysshe men that can noo latyn ; thenne the gospell and prophecye and the right fayth of holy chyrche muste be tolde them in englysshe, and that is not done but by Englysshe translacyon ; for suche Englysshe prechyng is very translacyon ; and suche Englysshe prechynge is goode and nedefull; thenne Englysshe translacyon is good and nedefull. The Gierke. Yf a translacyon were made that myght be amended in ony poynt, some men it wolde blame. The Lord. Yf men blame that is not worthy to be blamed, thenne they by to blame. The Clerk is presently overpersuaded and decides to make the venture of faith ; "thenne god graunte us grace redely to gynne, wytte and wysdome wysely to worche." And then, on fol. 2 b, comes the prologue to his translation, in which something of his original fears may still be traced : For blame of bakbyters wyll I not bhmne, for envye of enemyes, for evyll spyt\'ng and speche of evyl spekers wyl I not leve to do this dede; for travayll wyll I not spare. Comforte I have in nedefull makynge and plesynge to god and in knowj'nge that I wote that it is your wyll for to make this translacyon clere and playne to be knowen and understonden. {b) The following extract from Caxton, on the other hand, shows what difficulties the conscientious translator encountered even when there was no question of his incurring religious censure by setting before an unlearned public things which the Church insisted on locking up in ' i.e. in the chapel of Berkeley Castle. 23 Translators Difficulties i8i the Latin tongue. It is from the Prologue to his Eneydos (1490), E.E.T.S., Extra Series, 1890, p. i. After dy verse werkes made, translated and achieved, havyng noo werke in hande, I, sittyng in my studye where as laye many dyverse paunflettis and bookys, happened that to my hande came a lytyl booke in frenshe, whiche kite was translated oute of latyn by some noble clerke of fraunce, whiche booke is named Eneydos, made in latyn by that noble poete and grete clerke vyrgyle And whan I had advysed me in this sayd boke, I delybered and concluded to translate it in-to englysshe and forthwyth toke a penne and ynke and wrote a leef or tweyne whyche I oversawe agayn to corecte it. And whan I sawe the fayr and straunge termes therin, I doubted that it sholde not please some gentylmen whiche late blamed me, sayeing that in my translacyons I had over curyous termes whiche coude not be understande of comyn peple and desired me to use olde and homely termes in my translacyons. And fayn wolde I satysfye every man ; and, so to doo, toke an olde boke and redde therin, and certaynly the englysshe was so rude and brood that I coude not wele understande it. And also my lorde abbot of westmynster ded do shewe to me late, certayn evydences wryton in olde englysshe, for to reduce it in-to our englysshe now usid. And certaynly it was wreton in suche wyse that it was more lyke to dutche than englysshe ; I coulde not reduce ne brynge it to be understonden. And certaynly our langage now used varyeth ferre from that whiche was used and spoken whan I was borne. For we englysshe men been borne under the domynacyon of the mone, whiche is never stedfaste but ever waverjmge wexynge one season and waneth and dyscreaseth another season \ And that comyn englysshe that is spoken in one shyre varyeth from a nother. In so moche that in my da}'es happened that certayn merchauntes were in a shippe in tamyse, for to have sayled over the see into zelande ; and, for lacke of wynde, thei taryed atte forland, and wente to ^ Medieval English writers frequently criticize their nation for instability ; the impression was probably derived in part from the political revolutions under lieniy III., Edward II., Richard II. and the Wars of the Roses. 1 82 Authors, Scribes and Reade7'S iii lande for to refreshe them. And one of theym named sheffelde, a mercer, cam in-to an hous and axed for mete ; and specy- ally he axyd after eggys ; And the goode wyf answerde, that she coulde speke no frenshe. And the marchaunt was angry, for he also coude speke no frenshe, but wolde have hadde egges and she understode hym not. And thenne at laste a nother sayd that he wold haven eyren ; then the good wyf sayd that she understod hym wel. Loo ! what sholde a man in thyse dayes now wryte, egges or eyren ? certaynly it is harde to playse every man by cause of dyversite and chaunge of langage. For in these dayes every man that is in ony reputacyon in his countre, wyll utter his commynycacyon and maters in suche maners and termes that fewe men shall understonde theym. And som honest and grete clerkes have ben wyth me, and desired me to wryte the moste curyous termes that I coude fynde. And thus bytwene playn rude and curyous I stande abasshed, but in my judgemente the comyn termes that be dayli used ben lyghter to be understonde than the olde and auncyent englysshe. And for as moche as this present booke is not for a rude uplondyssh man to labour therin, ne rede it, but onely for a clerke and a noble gentylman that feleth and understondeth in faytes of armes, in love, and in noble chyvalrye, Therfor in a meane bytwene bothe, I have reduced and translated this sayd booke in to our englysshe, not over rude ne curyous, but in such termes as shall be understanden, by goddys grace, accordynge to my copye. And yf ony man wyll enter-mete in* redyng of hit, and fyndeth suche termes that he can not understande, late hym goo rede and lerne vyrgyll, or the pystles of ovyde, and ther he shall see and understonde lyghtly all, yf he have a good redar and enformer. For this booke is not for every rude and unconnynge man to see, but to clerkys and very gentylmen that understande gentylnes and scyence. Thenne I praye alle theym that shall rede in this lytyl treatys, to holde me for excused for the translatynge of hit. For I knowleche myselfe ignorant of connynge to empryse on me so hie and noble a werke. But I praye mayster John Skelton, ' undertake to. :3, 24 Translators Difficulties 18 o late created poete laureate in the unyversite of oxenforde, to oversee and correcte this sayd booke, And taddresse and expowne where as shalle be founde faulte to theym that shall requyre it. For hym, I knowe for suffycyent to expowne and englysshe every dyffyculte that is therin. . For he hath late translated the epystyls of Tulle and the boke of dyodorus S3'culus, and diverse other werkes oute of latyn in-to englysshe, not in rude and olde langage, but in polysshed and ornate termes craftely, as he that hath redde vyrgyle, ovyde, tullye, and all the other noble poetes and oratours to me unknowen. 24 THE LOVE OF BOOKS Richard de Bury, a cleric of good birth, became tutor to Edward III. ; then royal clerk and ambassador, papal chaplain, and bishop-expectant with an income jz^ri? tempore equivalent to not less than ^30,000 or ^40,000 in modern money. In 1333 he became bishop of Durham. He was a great book-collector, and his Philobiblon is the most remarkable of medieval treatises on books ; but a distinguished contemporary accuses him of having paraded borrowed learning, and ascribes the real authorship of the book to the Dominican Robert Holcot ; and a few known facts lend some colour to this accusation. Whether Holcot or Bury, however, the actual writer was evidently a sincere book-lover ; and he has found a model editor in Mr E. C. Thomas (1888). Mr Thomas's translation has been republished in The King^s Classics : the extracts here given are by the present compiler. Cap. I. That desirable treasure of wisdom and knowledge, which all men covet by natural instinct, doth infinitely tran- scend all earthly riches,... Where dost thou most gladly hide, O chosen treasure? and where shall our thirsty souls find thee .'' Surely it is in books that thou hast pitched thy tent ; for there hast thou been set by the most Highest, the Light of Lights, the Book of Life ! There do all receive who ask, and all find who seek, and to all who unweariedly knock it is opened without delay. Here the Cherubim stretch out their wings, that the learner's understanding may be raised on high, and may survey from pole to pole, from the rising of the sun to the going down thereof, from the north and from the south,.,. Lastly, we must weigh what comfortable teaching there is in books, how easy and how secret. How safely do we lay bare before a book, without false shame, the poverty 184 Authors, Scribes and Readers iii of our human ignorance ! Books are masters who teach us without rod or ferule, without reviling or wrath, without [gifts of] garments' or money. If thou comest to visit them, they sleep not ; if thou wilt question them, they hide nothing ; they murmur not at thine errors, they have no laugh of scorn at thine ignorance. Cap. 3. From the aforesaid we draw a corollary pleasing to ourselves but acceptable, we fear, to few : to wit, that no man should be withheld from buying books, at however great a price, if only his means will permit — unless, indeed, he must needs resist the malice of the vendor, or await a more op- portune season for buying. For, if it be wisdom alone which giveth a book its price, and if wisdom be a treasure which no man can number, so that (as these premisses suppose) the price of books is more than tongue can tell, how then can that be a dear bargain wherein an infinite good is bought? Wherefore Solomon, that sun among men, exhorteth us to buy books gladly and sell them unwillingly, saying in the 23rd chapter of Proverbs, " Buy the truth, and sell not wisdom." Cap. 4. [The author makes Books complain of neglect at the hands of the beneficed clergy.] But enough of this ; for it irks us to remember what gifts we have conferred on this degenerate race of clerks, since all gifts to the ungrateful seem rather wasted than conferred. Let us dwell now for awhile upon the injuries wherewith they repay us, their insults and injuries, wherein we cannot recite one of each kind ; nay, scarce can we come near to naming the kinds themselves. First, we are expelled by main force from those houses of the clergy which are our own by here- ditary right : — we, who had once our cells of quiet in the inner chamber, but who in these abominable days, sad to relate ! are utterly cast forth and bear reproach without the gates ; for our places are now taken either by dogs or birds, or by that two-footed beast whose cohabitation with the 1 Cf. the Bedell's instructions in Section II., no. 8: "The Inceptour in Giamer shall gyve to the Vice-chauncelar a IJonett," etc. At other universities the expense was sometimes greater, and the candidate for a degree was obliged to give gowns. 2 4 The Love of Books 185 clergy hath been forbidden from ancient times — that beast whom we have ever taught our scholars to flee as they would flee the asp or the basilisk. Hence it is that she, who hath ever implacably envied our studies, spying us at length in our corner, with no defence but the webs woven around us by spiders now defunct, seizes us with frowning brow and bitter words ; and, laughing us to scorn, proves us to be superfluous and unwelcome guests among all the household furniture. She complains that we are unprofitable for all domestic services, and counsels that we should be exchanged for precious head-gear, fine linen and silk and double-dyed scarlet ; for garments furred with vair ; for linen and for wool. Nor doth she err here, if she could see our inmost hearts, if she had read Theophrastus or Valerius', or at least had heard, marked, and inwardly digested the twenty-fifth chapter of Ecclesiasticus. Cap. 17. You will see perchance some headstrong youth, sitting slothfully at his studies... his finger-nails are filthy, black as jet, and with them he marks the place where the matter takes his fancy. He distributes innumerable straws, laying them conspicuously in divers places of the book, that the wheatstalk may recall whatsoever his nnemory may let slip. These straws, which are never withdrawn, remain un- digested in the book's belly, first distending it to the bursting of its wonted clasps, and then rotting in the neglect and oblivion to which they have been left. He shrinketh not from eating fruit or cheese over his open book, nor from moving his cup carelessly over it ; and, having no bag at hand, he leaves in his book the fragments that remain.... Then he leans his elbows on the book and takes a long sleep in exchange for his brief study, and bends back the margins of the leaves to smooth out the wrinkles, to the no small detriment of the volume. Now the rain is over and gone, and the flowers appear on our earth ; and this scholar whom we 1 IVife of Bath's Proloi(ue, 669 : He hadde a book that gladly, nyght and day, For his desport he wolde rede alway. He cleped it 'Valerie' and 'Theofraste,' At whiche book he lough alwey ful faste. i86 Authors, Scribes and Readei's iii 24 describe, this neglector rather than inspector of books, will stuff his volume with violets, primroses, roses and four-leaved clover. Then he will paw it over with hands wet with water or sweat ; then with dusty gloves he will fumble over the white parchment, and hunt for his page, line by line, with a forefinger clad in this ancient leather. Then, at the prick of some biting flea, the sacred volume is cast aside, scarce to be closed again for another month, when it is so clogged and swollen with dust that it resists all efforts to close it. But we must specially keep from all touch of our books those shameless youths who, when they have learned to shape the letters of the alphabet, straightway become incongruous annotators of all the fairest volumes that come in their way, and either deck with their monstrous alphabets all broader margins that they can find around the text, or rashly presume to write with unchastened pen whatsoever frivolous stuff may happen to run at that moment in their heads.... There are thieves also, who shamefully mutilate our books, cutting down the lateral margins, to the very quick of the written text, as material for their own epistolar}?^ correspondence, or stealing for various evil uses the blank pages which guard the book's ends ; a sort of sacrilege which doth merit to be pro- hibited under strictest threat of excommunication. Moreover, scholastic decency imperatively demands that, whensoever we return to study from our meals, we should wash our hands before reading; no finger dipped in grease should either turn the leaves or even open the clasps, before such ablution. Let no whimpering child be suffered to admire the pictured capital letters, lest his slimy hand defile the parchment ; for whatsoever the child seeth, that must he also touch. The unlearned also, for whom a book is the same whether it be held open upright or topsj^-turvy, are utterly unworthy of any communion with books. Let the clerk see to it also, that the sooty scullion reeking straight from the fleshpots lay no unwashen finger on the lily-white page ; let him who ministereth to your precious volumes be one who walketh without blemish. A decent cleanliness of hand would be most profitable both to books and to scholars, if scabs and pustules were not marks of the clerical character. SECTION IV CHURCH AND CHURCHMEN In this section there is no attempt to exploit fully such sources as Matthew Paris or Jocelin of Brakelond. The latter is, in fact, altogether avoided ; his chronicle is so brief, so accessible in The King's Classics. and casts so many different sidelights on Church life under the Angevins, that it should be read in its entirety. 1 A DYING WORLD The whole Middle Ages may be looked upon as a long process of suffermgand convalescence from the barbarian invasions, which influenced European thought down to and beyond the Reformation. Men's minds w;ere constantly haunted by the Apocalypse and the more dismal chapters of the Prophets ; much of the unprogressiveness of the Middle Ages in certain directions may be traced to this numbing belief in the imminence of the Last Judgment. The following four extracts will suffice, out of very many which might be chosen ; one of the passages in which Roger Bacon records his despair of the present world may be found in A Medieval Garner, p. 342. {a) St Gregory the Great, Horn, in Ezech. c'. li. Hom. vi. § 21 (Migne, P.L. vol. 76. 1009). I ask, what is there now in this world to please us ? Every- where we see sights of iTiourning and hear the groans of men. Cities are ruined, towns are desolate, fields lie waste ; the land hath become a wilderness. No husbandman is left in the fields; scarce a citizen remains in the cities; and even these scant rem- nants of humanity live under daily and unceasing plagues — plagues of divine justice which have no end, because the guilty actions themselves are not yet amended thereby. Some we see led into captivity, others maimed, others slain; what therefore, my brethren, do we see of pleasure in this life ? Nay, if we yet 1 88 CkiircJi and Churchmen iv love such a world as this, it is not joys but wounds that we love. We see what is now left of Rome, once the mistress of the world. We see the manifold oppression of immeasurable pains, the desolation of her citizens, the enemies that press daily upon her, the ruins that grow from day to day, so that in her we may see that fulfilled whereof Ezekiel speaketh [c.xxiv. v. 3,5, 10, 1 1], "set a pot, set it on, and also pour water into it Take the choice of the flock, and burn also the bones under it, and make it boil well, and let them seethe bones of it therein Heap on wood, kindle the fire, consume the flesh, and spice it well, and let the bones be burned. Then set it empty upon the coals thereof, that the brass of it may be hot, and may burn, and that the filthiness of it may be molten in it, that the scum of it may be consumed." But now, behold! all the mighty men of this world are taken away from Rome; therefore the bones are sodden away. Lo ! the commons fail and fall ; the flesh of it is consumed. Therefore let the word go forth : Heap on wood, kindle the fire, consume the flesh, and spice it tvell, and let the bones be burned. For where is the Senate now, and where the People ? The bones are crumbled away, the flesh is consumed, all pomp of worldly dignities is extinguished in the city ; the whole substance thereof hath been sodden away ; and we, who yet remain, are we not daily given over to the sword, and to innumerable tribulations? But why do I thus speak of men, when we see the destruction so increasing that the very buildings crumble to ruin } Wherefore the prophet aptly addeth this word concerning our city, now so empty, that the brass of it may be hot, and may burn. For now the very pot itself is con- sumed, wherein aforetime the flesh and bones had melted away; which is to say that, after the inhabitants have failed, the very walls now fall. But where now are those who were wont to rejoice in her glory ? where is their pomp and pride, their often and immoderate mirth?.,. And this which we have said of the breaking in pieces of the city of Rome, we know to have come to pass also in all the cities of the world. Some parts have been wasted with slaughter, others devoured with the edge of the sword, others I A Dying World 189 tormented with famine, others swallowed up with earthquakes. Let us therefore with all our soul scorn this present world, as already brought to nought ; let us close our yearnings for this world now at least, at the very end of this world's existence ; let us do what we can, and imitate the deeds of good men. {b) Adam de Marisco, or Marsh, was an intimate friend of Grosseteste and Simon de Monifort, and one of the earliest and most distinguished of medieval teachers at Oxford. The following extract is from his letter to Pope Innocent IV. about 1250 A. D. \Momcincnta Franciscana^ R.S., vol. I. 1858, p. 420). Almost equally strong expressions may be found elsewhere : e.g. to Grosseteste, p. 147, and Simon de Montfort, p. 266. Since it seems that the world is now in its old age, and we are come to the end of all things, and the Saviour's prophecy is fulfilled, who saith that iniquity shall abound and the love of many shall wax cold, so that it is already as if Satan were loosed, and those horrors were abroad which St Paul fore- telleth [2 Tim. iii. i] :... therefore, I say, more horribly than in any past times we now see, throughout all regions of the habitable globe, how wickedness runs riot : the Gospel is dis- obeyed, laws are gainsaid, churches are laid waste, kingdoms made desert, the priesthood shaken to its foundations, princes cast down, clergy trodden under foot, knighthood scattered abroad, religion profaned, and the commonalty ruined. We see bitter malice, ferocious murders, filthy defilements, violence in prelacies, wicked perfidies, vehement seditions, knavish discords, jarring schisms and deliberate treachery ; so that, in all these things, the direst havoc of infernal torments seems to be falling upon mankind. .■Mmost equally interesting is the long Welsh prophecy of Antichrist and the Day ot" Judgment printed with a translation in Tratisactions 0/ the Society of Cymmrodorion, vol. iv. (1881), pp. 106 ff. Antichrist, the author thinks, will appear in the year 1403 jV.d. ; and "the Masters of the Arts, did they rightly know how, conjecture that the world will end at the end of the seventh thousand years from the beginning of the world," since " the Creator at the beginning formed several things in sevens." But it is best to take our last examples from the beginning of the Reformation period. {c) Bishop Fisher {English IVorks, E.E.T. S., Extra Series, 1876, p. 337)- Before the coming of Antichrist there shall be a notable 190 Church and Churchmen IV discession and departing from the faith of the Church. And it is not unHke to be at this same time, by the occasion of this most perilous heretic [Luther]. {d) Sir T. More, The Third Booke of Comfort against Tribulacion {Workes, eel. 1557, p. 1213/;. The book is in the form of a dialogue between two Hungarian nobles, Anthony and his nephew Vincent : More wrote it in his prison at the Tower in 1534). Anthony. Verely, if we people of the christen nacions were such as woulde god we were, I would litle feare all the pre- paracions that the gret Turk could make. No ! nor yet, beyng as badde as we be, I nothing doubt at all, but that in con- clusion, howe base so ever chrystendome be broughte, it shall springe up agayne, tyll the tyme be come verye nere to the daye of dome ; whereof somme tokens as me thinketh are not comen yet. ...For, as appereth in thapocalips and other places of scrypture, the faith shal be at that tyme so far faded, that he shall for the love of hys electes, lest thei should fall and perish, abbredge those dales and accelerate his coming. But, as I saye, me thynketh I misse yet in my minde some of those tokens that shall by the scripture come a good while beefore that. 2 SACERDOTAL AUTHORITY To realize the reaction against sacerdotal pretensions which forms an important factor in later medieval life and literature, we must under- stand clearly what those claims were. [a) From the bull of Boniface VIII., Unam Sancta/n, published in 1302. This bull is incorporated in Canon Law {Extrav. Corn., 1. 1. tit. viii. c. i). That there is one holy Catholic and Apostolic Church we are compelled by faith to hold and maintain.... As the truth testifieth, it is the part of the spiritual power to teach and judge the earthly power.... Moreover, we declare that all human beings are subject to the Pontiff of Rome ; and we assert, define and pronounce this tenet to be essential and necessary to salvation. Given at our palace of the Lateran, in the 8th year of our pontificate. I, 2 Sacerdotal AiUkority 191 ib) The bull Clericis Laicos, published by Boniface VIII. in 1296, asserted the complete immunity of the clergy from taxation by the state. Though both England and France openly resisted it in practice, it laid down a theory which was never formally retracted by the Church. The translation is from D. Wilkins, Concilia, etc., vol. ll. (i737)) P- 222. That the laity are bitterly hostile to the clergy is a matter of ancient tradition which is plainly confirmed by the expe- rience of modern times also ; for the laity, not content with their own limits, press with unbridled presumption to things unlawful ; to wit, lacking the prudence to observe that they have no lawful power over the persons or goods of clerks or ecclesiastics, they impose grievous burdens and taxes upon prelates, churches and regular or secular clerics... without licence from the Apostolic See We therefore, willing to put an end to such acts of injustice, with the advice of our brethren, do decree by our Apostolic authority that [all clergy who pay such taxes without Papal permission], and all Emperors, Kings, Dukes, Earls,... and all persons of what- soever rank or condition, who impose, exact or receive such taxes... or all who knowingly aid and abet the same, whether openly or secretly, shall ipso facto incur the sentence of ex- communication. ...From which sentence of excommunication and interdict no man may be absolved, unless on his death- bed, without the special authority and licence of the Apostolic See ; since we do hereby intend utterly to repudiate this so horrible abuse of the secular power. {c) Bishop Quivil (or, more probably, Ouenel) of Exeter was one of the many solid and careful prelates who did honour to the medieval English church. He held a Synod in 1287, the constitutions of which are among our most important documents for the relations between clergy and people (D. Wilkins, I.e., p. 152, § XLII.). Certain layfolk, especially bailiffs and nobles... as we learn from frequent complaints, have in these modern times {modernis teviporibus) fallen into such audacious madness that, the more they inflict outrage, loss and insult upon the clergy and their goods, the more they rejoice and boast themselves therein. Alas ! unhappy wretches, walking in darkness ! Is not God our Father who created us } and is not the Church our Mother in whom we were born again 192 Church and Churchmen iv by baptism ? and is it not written in Canon Law' : " He that stealeth anything from his father or his mother and saith : This is no sin, is the partner of a murderer"? Is it not plain and strange madness that the son should attempt to lord it over his father, the disciple over his master ? and that a man should strive to subject by unjust obligations those whom he believes to have the power of binding and loosing him not only on earth but in heaven also? 3 CANON LAW Canon Law, which lies at the foundation of so many medieval theories, grew up very gradually from different attempts to codify the decisions (i) of Popes, (2) of Church Councils, (3) of Church Fathers of acknow- ledged authority, and (4) of Emperors dealing with Church affairs. It is a characteristically medieval production ; no scholar now denies that a large proportion of it is either altogether spurious or wrongly attributed, while there is great conflict of opinion even within the Roman Catholic Church as to its authority or its binding force. Great portions of it have admitledly full papal authority; concerning other considerable portions, neither Popes nor orthodox commentators have yet ventured to pronounce any definite decision. The two following extracts illustrate the two opposite poles of medieval opinion ; the enormous majority, however, would have disagreed with Bacon. One of the very few medieval writers who went even further than Bacon, condemning some of the most important parts of Canon Law as spurious, was Bishop Pecock, of Chichester, whose criticisms may be found in his Repressor^ R. S. i860, vol. il. pp. 323-53. (a) R. Bacon, 0pp. Ined., R. S., p. 84. What I would fain say is this: that, as among the Hebrews of old the State was governed by God's law [in the Old Testa- ment], so now among Christians should it be ruled by God's law [in both Testaments]. For if all wisdom be mainly con- tained in the Bible, as its principal source, then at least we may say that the State should be mainly ruled thereby. But now it is not so; for in God's church a civil lawyer is more renowned and is more quickly promoted to dignities — even though he know naught but civil law, and be ignorant of canon law and theology — than a master in theology. And it is strange that, whereas canon law is drawn from Holy Scripture 1 Gratiaii's Decietum, Pars II. Causa xii. q. ii. c. 6; a decree of Pope Anaclelus, based on Prov. xxviii. 24 and developing llie argument here adopted by Bishop Quivil. 2, 3 Canon Law 193 and from the expositions of the saints as from its fountain- head, yet it doth not turn mainly to those sources, either in study or in ecclesiastical practice. For this canon law should in justice be expounded, and harmonized, and corroborated, and confirmed from the Holy Scriptures, since to them it owes its origin. But now it is mainly expounded and har- monized and discussed through civil law, whereunto it is altogether attracted both in study and in practice, which is altogether unjust; although indeed civil law may rightly be used in subservience to canon law, as a servant to a mistress. O therefore that the cavils and frauds of lawyers might be put down, and that causes might be settled without din of litigation, as was men's wont forty years ago ! O that I might live to see this with mine own eyes ! For if we removed the din of litigation and the cavils and abuses of lawyers, then clergy and laity alike would enjoy justice and peace. For, if once canon law were purged from this superfluity of civil law, and were ruled by divinity, then would the Church be gloriously ruled, according to her proper dignity. For there are and would be many who, if this were so, would never cease from the study of wisdom until they had fulfilled their aim, if they had their livelihood meanwhile; and some would complete theology, some philosophy, and others would rectify canon law and reduce it to its proper state But, most blessed Pope and most wise Lord, may your Majesty deign to consider this; for you alone can apply the remedy, since there never was a Pope so truly learned in the law as you, nor (as I believe) shall be; and, though there be some who know law well, yet there is no hope that such men will be elected to the papacy. But it hath been prophesied some forty years since, and to many men hath it been revealed in visions, that in our days there shall be a Pope who shall purge canon law and God's Church from the cavils and frauds of lawyers, and that justice shall be done everywhere without din of litigation ; and it shall come to pass, through the good- ness and truth and justice of this Pope, that the Greeks shall come back to the obedience of the Roman Church, and most of the Tartars shall be converted to the Faith, and the Sara- c. ,3 1 94 Church and Churchmen iv cens shall be destroyed, and there shall be one fold and one shepherd, as this word sounded in the prophet's ears. And one man, who saw this by revelation, said and still saith that he himself shall see these wonderful works done in his own time; and certainly all could be done within a year, or less, if it pleased God and the Supreme Pontiff; wherefore it follows that all might be done within your reign ; God preserve your life that you may perform this!... I have made a sign here in the margin, that your Holiness in your wisdom may take good note of this; more especially, because you have the Church of God in your power, and the whole world under your direction. {b) Constitution of Abp Arundel in 1409, with notes by Bp Lyndwood, the recognized official commentator (Lyndwood's Provinciale^ Oxon. 1679, pp. 297 ff.). Moreover, let no man presume to dispute, whether publicly or secretly, concerning the Articles determined by the Church, as contained in the Decrees, Decretals and our Provincial Constitutions, or in local synodal decrees, unless such dispute be directed solely to the understanding of the true sense thereof; nor again shall any man caW in doubt the authority of the said Decrees, Decretals or Provincial Constitutions, or the power of whosoever may have composed the same; nor shall any teach contrary to that which is therein determined.... He therefore who shall assert, teach, or preach the contrary, or who shall pertinaciously imply the same (unless indeed he repent under the form and manner elsewhere prescribed by Us, and abjure his error as there prescribed), shall incur the pains of Heresy, and possibly of a relapsed heretic; and he shall be condemned as such for all effect of law. Lyndwood's notes (a.d. 1430). Articles. He addeth not, of Faith, but (as may be seen) determined by the Church, intending thereby that heresy is incurred not only by opposition to the Articles of Faith but also by opposition to what hath been determined by the Church even though this concern not the articles of faith; and this is in accord with that which is written in the Gre- 3-5 Canon Law 195 gorian Decretals, Lib. V. tit. 7, cap. 9 and in the Clementines, Lib. V. tit. 3, cap. 3. By the Church : that is, by the prelates of the Church. Whosoever may have composed; whether such author be the Pope as universal ordinary, or the Archbishop in his own province or the Bishop in his diocese. Imply. From this it is plain that a man may offend not only in words, but also in signs or gestures ; and this is true, so far as such may display his inward mind or intention. Possibly ; that is if, after abjuring, he fall again into his former errors. 4 PETER'S PENCE The Brut, E.E.T.S., 1908, p. 316. And in the same yer [1365] hit was ordeyned that seynt Petris pens, fro that tyme forth shold not be payd, the whiche Kyng Ina, sumtyme King of Englond, of the cuntre of West- Saxons, that bygan to regne in the yer of our Lord DClxxxix, ferst graunted to Rome, for the scole of Engelond ther to be continued. 5 MIRACLES It is not generally recognized how many thinking men in the Middle Ages did all they could to clear their faith from reliance on the merely miraculous. St Augustine and St Gregory the Great, in words which were often echoed m later generations, take up a standpoint which, logically, approaches nearly to " modernism " ; though, of course, neither writer pushed his thought to its logical conclusion. In this connection, and as a corrective to the crude materialism of the masses which is typified in the third extract, it is worth while to insert two passages from the Magna Vita S. Hugonis (R.S., 1864). It must be added that, though the biographer portrays Hugh as no admirer of the miraculous per se, he believes his hero to have worked many miracles himself. {a) The Saint's View. p. 97. [St Hugh] had so deeply and perfectly drunk in, to the bottom of his soul, that gravity and humility laid down by the writers of the holy Carthusian Order, that he seemed to admire or strive after nothing less than the prodigies of miracles; nevertheless, when he read or heard of such miracles 13—2 1 96 Church and Churchmen iv wrought by holy men, he gladly related them and held them in high veneration. He related them (I say) to the commen- dation of those who had shown forth such wonders, and for the discipline of such as marvelled thereat ; but for himself the mere sanctity of a saint was his real miracle, and that alone sufficed him for an example. And to him the one universal miracle was that hearty and intimate remembrance of his Creator which was never absent from his mind ; and the stupendous and inexplicable multitude of God's mighty works, p. 245. A certain cleric, though in mortal sin, yet presumed to officiate at Mass, saying meanwhile in his own heart "thinkest thou that Christ's body and blood is truly made, touched, and taken by me, a foul sinner.^" In answer to his doubts, the host turned to actual flesh, which, when broken, gave forth blood. Many faithful flocked together from the neighbourhood, on every side, to see with their own eyes these mighty works of God ; and they with the utmost reverence magnified the Lord who alone doeth wondrous things.... They who brought this news from the priest to the Bishop looked that he would go forthwith to see the miracle, with eager devotion of heart. But he had no sooner heard their tale than he made reply, saying " Good ! in God's name let them keep to themselves the signs of their own unfaith ! What is this to us ? Do we marvel at particular images of this divine gift — we who daily behold, with the most faithful eyes of the spirit, the whole unbroken image of this heavenly sacrifice ? Let that man go and gaze with bodily eyes upon those tiny crumbs [of God's body], who seeth not the whole with the inward eye of faith.. . ." Thus he held back his own household from their purpose of curious sightseeing. ip) Popular Preaching. An Alphabet of Tales (E.E.T.S., 1904). A 15th century translation, through the French, of Latin anecdotes for preachers ; most of the stories are very popular, occurring in all kinds of similar compilations, p. 71 : Latin title " A Bird's Prayer is sometimes heard." Cesarius [of Heisterbach] tellis how som tyme ther was a burd that was lernyd to speke. So on a tyme sho flow away in the feldis, and the Goshalk [purjsewid after hur and wold hafe kyllid hur. And whan sho saw hym com, as sho was lernyd 5, 6 Miracles 197 at home, sho began to cry, and sayd; "Sancte Thorn a! adiuva me! A! Saynt Thomas, helpe me!" And onone^ this goshalk fell down dead, and this burd esskapid and had none harm. Lo, surs, what vertue it is to call on Saynt Thomas, martir of Cantyrbery, in any tribulacion ! 6 I STRETCH LAME HANDS OF FAITH... The uniformity of medieval faith has often been much exaggerated by modern writers : thoughtful and plain-spoken writers of the time often show indications of embarrassment. It would be difficult to choose better illustrative passages here than the following two from Piers Plowman (abbreviated). (a) B, X. 414 fif. and 452 ff., pp. 320, 322. On Gode Fridaye I fynde a feloun was ysaved. That had lyved al his lyf with lesynges^ and with thefte ; And, for he biknewe^ on the crosse and to Cryste schrof * hym. He was sonnere' saved than seynt Johan the baptiste, And or Adam or Ysaye or eny of the prophetes, That hadde yleine® with Lucyfer many longe yeres. A robbere was yraunceouned'' rather than thei alle, With-outen any penaunce of purgatorie to perpetuel blisse. • Thanne Marye Magdaleyne ; what womman dede worse? Or who worse than David that Uries deth conspired ? Or Poule the apostle, that no pitee hadde Moche crystene kynde to kylle to deth ? And now ben thise as sovereynes wyth seyntes in hevene, Tho that wroughte wikkedlokest, in worlde tho* thei were. And tho that wisely wordeden, and wryten many bokes Of witte and of wisdome, with dampned soules wonye'. The doughtiest doctour and devynoure of the trinitee, Was Augustyn the olde and heighest of the foure'", Sayde thus in a sarmoun (I seigh it writen ones), Ecce ipsi idioti rapiunt celum, iibi nos sapientes in inferno mei'gimur : ^ anon. * lies. ' confessed. * shrove. ' sooner. ^ lain. '' ransomed. ^ when. " dwell. 1" The four styled Doctor in Canon Law are Ambrose, Augustine, Jerome and Gregory. The passage here quoted is really from St Augustine's Confessions, 1. VIII. c. 8. I. tqS Chu7xh and Churchmen iv And is to mene to Englisshe men more ne lasse, " Aren none rather yravysshed fro the righte byleve Than ar this cunnynge clerkes that conne many bokes ; Ne none sonner saved ne sadder^ of bileve, Than plowmen and pastoures and pore comune laboreres." Souteres" and shepherdes, suche lewed jottes^, Percen* with a pater-7ioster the paleys of hevene, And passen purgatorie penaunceles at her hennes-partynge^ In-to the blisse of paradys for her pure byleve, That inparfitly here knevve and eke lyved. Yee ! men knowe clerkes that han cursed the tyme, That evere thei couth or knewe more than credo in deum patrem; And pryncipaly her pater-noster many a persone hath wisshed. I se ensamples my-self, and so may many an other, That servauntes that serven lordes selden falle in arrerage, But tho that kepen the lordes catel*, clerkes and reves. Right so lewed men and of litel knowynge, Selden falle thei so foule and so fer in synne, As clerkes of holikirke that kepen Crystes tresore, The which is mannas soule to save, as god seith in the gospel. {b) B, X. 28, p. 286. Thilke that god moste gyveth, leste good thei deleth, And moste unkynde to the comune that moste catel weldeth''. Harlotes^ for her harlotrye may have of her godis, And Japeres^ and Jogeloures^" and Jangelers of gestes. Ac" he that hath holy writte ay in his mouth, And can telle of Tobye and of the twelve apostles, Or prechen of the penaunce that Pilat wrought To Jesu the gentil that Jewes to-drowe^^ : — Litel is he loved that suche a lessoun scheweth. But tho that feynen hem folis", and with faityng Hbbeth'^ Agein the lawe of owre lorde, and lyen on hem-selve, ^ more steadfast. ^ cobblers. ^ unlearned fellows. * pierce. ^ hence-parting. ® chattels. ' dispose of. ® rascals. " jesters. '" buffoons. " but. ^^ tortured. " fools. ^* live as idle beggars. \ 6 / stretch Lame Hands of Faitk 1 99 Spitten and spevven and speke foule wordes, Drynken and dryvelen and do^ men for to gape, Lickne- men and lye on hem that leneth' hem no gtftes, Thai conne namore mynstralcye ne musyke, men to glade, Than Munde the mylnere* of multa fecit dens !^ Ne were here vyle harlotrye^ (have god my treuthe,) Shulde nevere kyng ne knight ne chanoun of seynt Poules Gyve hem to her yeresgive'' the gifte of a grote ! Ac if thei carpen^ of Cryst, this clerkis and this levved, Atte mete in her murthes whan mynstralles ben stille, Thanne telleth thei of the trinite a tale other tweyne, And bringen forth a balled^ resoun, and taken Bernard to vvitnesse. And putten forth a presumpsioun to preve'" the sothe. Thus thei dryvele at her deyse" the deite to knowe, And gnawen god with the gorge whan her gutte is fulle. Ac the careful may crye and carpen atte gate. Bothe afyngred^- and a-thurst and for chele'^ quake; Is none to nymen hym nere", his noye^' to amende, But hoen^*' on hym as an hounde and hoten" hym go thennes. Freres and faitoures han founde suche questiouns To plese with^* proude men sithen the pestilence tyme, And prechen at seint Poules for pure envye of clerkis, That^* folke is noughte fermed in the feith, ne fre of her goodes, Ne sori for her synnes; so is pryde waxen In religioun and in alle the rewme amonges riche and pore. That preyeres have no power the pestilence to lette. [For god is def now a dayes and deyneth nouht ous to huyre^o, And good men for oure gultes he al to-grynt^' to dethe ;]- ^ cause. ^ mimic. ' give. ■* miller. * God's wonderful works (Ps. xxxix. 6). * nor, but for their vile ribaldry. ^ year's-gift, Christmas box. ® talk. * bald. ^'^ prove. ^1 their dais. ^- hungry. ^* chill. " bring him near. '* suftering. ^* hoot. " bid. '^ wherewith to please. ^"^ so that. ^ to hear us. 2' ground. ^ These two lines are inserted from C-text. 200 Cku7''ch and Chuxlunen iv Elyng^ is the halle uche- daye in the wyke, There the lorde ne the lady liketh noughte to sytte. Now hath uche riche a reule to eten bi hym-selve In a pryve parloure, for pore mennes sake, Or in a chambre with a chymneye*, and leva the chief halle, That was made for meles, men to eten inne. I have yherde hiegh men etyng atte table, Carpen, as thei clerkes were, of Cryste and of his mightes And leyden fautes uppon the fader that fourmed us alle, And carpen ageine clerkes crabbed wordes ; — " Whi wolde owre saveoure suffre such a worme in his blisse, That bigyled the womman and the man after, Thorw whiche wyles and wordes thei wenten to helle, And al her sede for here synne the same deth sufifred ? Here lyeth yowre lore " thise lordes gynneth dispute, " Of that ye clerkes us kenneth of Cryst by the gospel ; Filius non portahit iniqtiitatem patris, &c} Whi shulde we, that now ben, for the werkes of Adam Roten and to-rende* ? resoun wolde it nevere ; Uniisquisqtie portabit ojiiis simm, &c!'^ Suche motyves thei moeve^ this maistres in her glorie, And maken men in mysbileve that muse moche on her wordes. 7 POLITICAL MARTYRS A medieval commonalty had always one not ineffective way of political protest; any statesman who had suffered in a popular cause, without respect to his personal character, was canonized by the popular voice ; prayers were addressed to him, and miracles were worked not only at his tomb but elsewhere by his intercession with God. Becket, Simon de Montfort, Edward 1 1, and Henry VI. are well-known examples ; but perhaps the most curious case in English history is that of the selfish and inglorious Thomas Earl of Lancaster, who lost his head in 1322 and was sainted as a protest against the government of Edward II. Here will be found three out of many documents referring to his cult, and one to that of Edward II. It may be noted in this context that the body of Abp Boniface 1 ailing. ^ each. ^ fireplace. * The son shall not bear the iniquity of the father (Ezech. xviii. ^o). ^ be destroyed. ® Each shall bear his own burden (Gal. vi. 5). "• move. 6,7 Political Martyrs 201 of Canterbury, whose high-handed proceedings maybe found described below (No. 11), worked miracles after his death (L. Wadding, Annales Minortim iv. 241 : " He was buried at Hautecombe in 1270, and having worked many miracles, is venerated as a saint by all the people of Savoy ")• There was naturally some difference of opinion as to such miracles — as, indeed, there sometimes was in the case of the greatest saints — and there can be little doubt that Higden's comments in extract {c) represent the point of view of most thinking men in his age. {a) The Brut (E.E.T.S. 1906) I. 228 ff. And sone after the Gode Erl Thomas of Lancastre was martrede, a preste, that longe tyme hade ben biynde, dremede in his slepyng that he shulde gone unto the hulP there that the gode Erl Thomas of Lancastre was don unto deth, and he shulde have his sight agein....And when this miracle was knowen amonges men, the peple come thither on every side, and knelede, and made here praiers at his tombe that is in the Priori of Pountfrette, and praied that holy martre of socour and of helpe, and God herd here prayere. Also there was a yonge childe drenchede in a welle in the toune of Pountfrette, and was dede iij daies and iij nyghtes ; and men come and laide the dede childe oppon seint Thomas tombe, the holy martre ; and the childe aros there fram the deth unto lif, as meny a man hit saw Also ther was a riche man in Coundone [Condom] in Gascoigne ; and soche a maladie he had, that al his right side rotede, and felle awaie fr6m him ; and men might se his lyvere and also his hert. \^His friends prayed to St Thomas, who came in a vision a?id healed him.'] And this gode man come into Engelande, and toke with him iiij felawes, and come to Pountfrette, and come to that holy martre, and dede here pilgrimage ; but the gode man that was sik come thither al naked saf his breche ; and when thai hade done, thai turnede home ageyne into here centre, and told of the miracle wher-so that thai come. And also ij men have bene helede there of the morimal^. through helpe of that holy martre, though that evel be holde incurable. {b) From the French Chronicle of London, tr. Riley in Chronicles of Old London, 1863, p. 257. At this time [1322] God wrought many miracles in the ^ hill. * putrid sore (Chaucer, C. T. Pro/opte, 1. 386). 202 CJmrch and Ckurckjnen iv Church of Saint Paul, at the tablet there which the said Thomas of Lancaster made ; in remembrance that the king had granted and confirmed the Ordinances which were made by Saint Robert de Winchelse, Archbishop of Canterbury, and by all the great and wise men of England, to the great profit of all the realm. In which place, the crooked were made straight, i the blind received their sight, and the deaf their hearing, and other beneficial works of grace were there openly shown.... And after this, at the Translation of Saint Thomas [7 July], by the King's writ, issued from Chancery, the tablet in the Church of Saint Paul, as also the wax taper that was there offered in devotion to the martyr, was with great rigour taken away and removed ; but still, for all that, the devotion of the people was not wholly put an end to, oblations being still made at the pillar from which the tablet had been hung. {c) Trevisa's Higden, vni. 313. Of this erle and of his dedes is ofte greet stryf among comoun peple, whether he schulde be acounted for seyntes other none. Some seyn yis, for he dede many almes dedes, and worschipped men of religioun, and mayntened a trewe querel, as it semed, to his ly ves ende ; also his enemyes durede afterward but a while, and deyde in schentfuP deeth. Other seien the contrarie, and telleth that he was an housbonde man, and rought^ nought of his wyf, and defouled a greet multitude of gentilwommen and of gentil wenches^ ; yif eny j man offended hym a lite, he lete slee hym anon. And postataes* \ and evel doers he favored strongliche, for he schulde nought be i-punsched by the lawe. Also he wolde commytte all his doynges to oon of his secretaries to doo with as he wolde. Also, that he folowe[d]* schamefulliche in tyme of fyghtinge for the right anon to the deth; and suche on[e] schulde nought be acounted a saynt, nameliche whan he was i-take and i-slawe mauger his teethe But offrynges and liknes^ of myracles that ' shameful. ^ though he was a married man, he recked. ^ Higden "hominem videlicet conjugatum neglecta uxore sua generosa in- numerosas mulierculas polluere." •* apostate: tlie technical term for a "religious" who had deserted his monastery. 5 vacillated. * slain against his will. ' appearance. , 7, 8 Political Martyrs 203 now beeth i-doo' in the place there he was byheded, what issue they schulde take it schal be knowe after this tyme. [Cf. ibid. 325.] {d) F. Devon, Issues of the Exchequer, 1837, p. 259 (i8th year of Richard II. Ap. 24). To Peter Merk and James Monald. In money paid to them by the hands of the same Peter, in discharge of 6/. 19^-. which the Lord the King commanded to be paid them for so much money by them paid for costs incurred about the carriage and portage of a gold cup and a gold ring set with a ruby ; also a Book of the Miracles of Edward, late king of England, whose body was buried at the town of Gloucester — to wit, from London to the City of Florence, to make a present of the same to our most holy Father Pope Urban, on behalf of the Lord the King. 8 INDULGENCES {a) The strictly orthodox official view, from Bp Lynd wood's Provinciate, ed. 1679, pp. 336-7. The Mystic Treasury is that of the merits of the whole Church, and of those made perfect in the Church, and also of Christ Himself. For this Treasure is collected from the abundance of superfluous merits which many saints have paid and weighed out beyond the measure of what theyowed^ and from the tribulations by them endured, whereof the merit is so great as to exceed all the penalty [of sin] owed by any living man ; and especially the passion and merits of Christ, the least drop of whose blood or sweat would suffice for the expiation of all the sins that ever were ; for all they are as nothing in respect of this...; and the other good works done by true believers, all which are laid up in the Casket and Treasure-house of the Church, the dispensation whereof is granted to all who have the care of Christ's Mystical Body, and the key of the whole Church militant ; that is, generally, to the Supreme Pontiff, but locally also to the other Bishops ^ are wrought. 2 ex abundantia meritorutn quae multi sancti ultra mensuram debitorum super- erogaverunt et impenderunt. 204 Church and Churchmen iv in their dioceses and Archbishops in their provinces, provided only that they do not exceed the quantity limited by [Canon] law. Lyndwood, however, and all medieval theologians, either assume or explain that the indulgence cannot take effect unless the receiver have confessed to a priest and be truly penitent. {b) From Lyndwood's younger and equally orthodox contemporary Thomas Gascoigne, Chancellor of Oxford University, who wrote about 1450 and was more concerned than Lyndwood with the practical results of the system {Loci e Libro Veritatum, ed. Rogers, 1881, passim). All these are foreshadowed in the Bull of Boniface IX. (1390), printed by M. J. J. Jusserand in his Wayfaring Life, appendix 26. (p. 86.) The sixth river of Babylonian confusion and de- struction [of the Church] is the false faith which some men have in indulgences granted by the Pope, or by man ; which [faith] is not of God, for such men have not what is required for such a pardon in God's sight [here follow five pages setting forth the orthodox theory of indulgences after St Thomas Aquinas and other similar authorities ; then he proceeds, p. 91] : O ! how often have I heard worldly men of carnal life say proudly, " I care not how often I implead men, or gain great wealth for my own enjoyment, or impoverish the widows and the destitute by cunning sleights and crafty tricks ; for, however ill I may live, by visiting such-and-such a church and by offering money there I can get a plenary remission of guilt and penalty for my sins ! " O how blind of soul are those who say such falsehoods ! How is that man loosed from bonds, who is yet held in bonds ? How is he loosed from sin, while he leaveth not his iniquity, nor doeth either in will or in deed the good works which he oweth to God.^.. The men of our time [fiomines inoderni'\ say " We reck not of any sin ; but we do whatsoever pleaseth us as though it were lawful ; we have sinned, and no vengeance hath overtaken us ; and, if we sin again, we need have no fear, for the Kingdom of God is nigh unto us, and Rome is even at our doors ; for we can easily and quickly get us pardon for our guilt, and remission of all the penalty thereof, if we give money for a papal indulgence."... A certain doctor at Bile wrote there a great discourse of papal indulgences, wherein he affirmeth that he hath found 8 Indulgences 205 no indulgences granted and sealed, after the fashion that is used in these days of ours, within the first thousand years after Christ ; nor hath he found described, in the writings of any saint, any indulgences after the fashion now used.... Sinners say nowadays, " I care not how many or what evils I do in God's sight ; for I can easily and quickly get plenary remission of all guilt and penalty by an absolution and indulgence granted me by the Pope, whose written grant I have bought for \d. or for 6^., or have won as a stake for a game of tennis [with the pardoner]." For these indulgence- mongers wander over the country and give a letter of pardon sometimes for 2d., sometimes for a good draught of wine or beer, sometimes as a stake for a game of tennis, or even for the hire of a harlot or for carnal love. For Pietro da Monte who, about the year 1440, collected immense sums for in- dulgences granted by Pope Eugenius, when he went on ship- board to leave England, said to Doctor Vincent Clement : " By God ! " (quoth he) " Pope Eugenius shall never have one penny from these full money-bags, unless I first get his promissory letters granting me the Archbishopric of Milan! ! " (f) The view of the ideal Parish Priest (Myrc's Festial, E.E.T.S., Extra Series, 1905, p. 74). John Myrc or Mirk was prior of Lilleshall in Shropshire and flourished about 1400 a.d. He wrote books for the help of parish priests in their ministrations : a rhyming book of " Instructions," printed by the E.E.T.S. in 1S68, and Liber Festialis, a book of sermons for Sundays and festivals, interspersed with anecdotes, which was printed with some akerations by Caxton. He wrote also a Latin book of Instruc- tions, which is still in MS. And yet, yn more confort of all Godys pepull, yche fyfte yere, the pope of Rome grauntythe a full remyssion of all synnys to yche man and weman that comyth to Rome that yen But, for all men may not come thedyr and have thys ^ Compare this with the statement of Cardinal Gasquet (^The Eve of the Reformation, 1900, p. 437): "In the literature of the period, it must be remem- bered, there i#nothing to show that the true nature of a ' pardon ' or indulgence was not fully and commonly understood. There is no evidence that it was in any way interpreted as a remission of sin, still less that any one was foolish enough to regard it as a permission to commit this or that offence against God." 2o6 Church and Churchmen iv pardon, therfor the Pope of Heven, Ihesu Cryst, of his specyall grace grauntythe all men and woymen full pardon of hor synnys yn hor deth-day, so that thay woll kepe by hor lyve thre thyngys that ben nedefull to horn. The wheche ben these : full contricion wyth schryft, full charite wythout feynyng, and stabull fayth wythout flateryng. And, sothly, wythout thes thre, ther may no man have pardon at Rome ne elleswher. Wherfor he that wyll be asoylet of the Pope of Heven, and have playne remyssyon of hys synnys, he most be full contryte, that ys, ynwardly sory for hys synnys and his gyltes ; and so schryve hym clene, and be yn full purpos never forto synne more. Whoso dothe thus, leve^ he wele, God forgevyth hym his trespas, and full perdon therof. {d) The " Broad-Church " view in the later fourteenth century. (Exactly the same sentiment is expressed in the less orthodox version of The Lay Folk's Catechism, E.E.T.S., 1901, lines 877 ff.) Piers Plowman, B, VII. 173, p. 248. Now hath the pope powere pardoun to graunte the peple With-outen eny penaunce to passen in-to hevene; This is owre bileve as lettered men us techeth, Qiiodcumque ligaveris super terrain, erit ligatum et in cells, &c} And so I leve lelly (lordes forbode ellis !)* That pardoun and penaunce and preyeres don save Soules that have synned sevene sithes* dedly. Ac" to trust to thise triennales®, trewly me thinketh, Is nought so syker for the soule, certis, as is Dowel. For-thi'' I rede^ yow, renkes^ that riche ben on this erthe, Uppon trust of yowre tresoure triennales to have, Be ye nevere the balder i» to breke the ten hestes" ; And namelichl^ ye maistres mayres and jugges. That han the welthe of this worlde, and for wyse men ben holden To purchace yow pardoun and the popis bulles. 1 believe. ^ Matt. xvi. 19. * I believe loyally (God forbid it should be otherwise !). '* times. 5 but. * a soul-mass said daily for three years. ^ therefore. * counsel. ** men. " bolder. " commandments. " specially. 8, 9 Indulgences 207 At the dredeful dome, whan dede shullen rise, And comen alle bifore Cryst acountis to yelde, How thow laddest thi lyf here and his lawes keptest, And how thow dedst day bi day the dome wil reherce; A poke-ful of pardoun there, ne provinciales lettres', Theigh ye be founde in the fraternete of alle the foure ordres, And have indulgences double-folde, but if Dowel yow help, I sette yowre patentes and yowre pardounz at one pies heleM 9 THE VIRTUE OF A MASS R. of Brunne, Handlyng Synne, E.E.T.S., 1901, p. 324. This anecdote is the more valuable for being given on Manning's own authority. A man yn Southfolke ones deyde Besyde Sudbyry, men seyde. For that man, swych^ grace was dyght, That hym was graunted to come a nyght For to speke wyth hys wyfe To amende the defaute of hys lyfe : " Gyf a messe were for me doun With gode mannes devocyoun, Y hope," he seyd, " to blys go, And be delyverd of alle my wo; Y prey the, pur charyte^ To travayle so moche for me." She graunted hym that yche bone', And ros up on the morne sone, And un-to the freres gede, For there hoped she best to spede. She cam, and spak with a frere. And preyd she myght hys messe here, And for here housbunde soule to synge. And she wulde %y\''t hym ofifrynge. ' Letters from the Minister Provincial of one of the four Orders of Friars, setting forth that the recipient was of their Fraternity — i.e. had conferred benefits on them for which they made him or her partakers in their merits and prayers. Cf. Jocelin of Brakelonde, tr. Clarke, 1907, p. 3. ^ heel of a magpie (or, last remnant of pie-crust). 3 such. * pour charite. * particular boon. 2o8 Church and Churchmen iv The frere ded here a messe Yn comune, as the servyse ys ; Whan thys messe sunge was She went home a gode pas. The nyght aftyr, than come he, " Slepest thou ? " he sayd ; " Nay," seyd she, " Be ye yyt," she sayd, " yn blys ? The messe for yow sungen ys,' "The messe," he seyde, "thou dedyst be do\ A party^ hyt halpe ther-un-to ; My parte y had, of that messe, As of thyng that comune ys ; Gyf one for me were specyale seyde, That outher for me blys had nede, — Gyf the prest were of lyfe so gode That God hys preyer undyrstode — Y hope than, grace to have, That hys messe myght me save." Ofte he seyd[e] to hys wyfe " A prest ! A prest ! of clene lyfe." On the morne, sone she yede To the freres eft god spede, And shewed hyt to the pryour, And prey[ed] hym of socour, " Gyf he had any brother, That he hoped, were better than other, That wyl synge me a messe For a man that dede ys ; And at myn ese he shal have, To a pytaunce^ that he wyl crave." The pryor spake un-to a frere, And prey[ed] hym on alle manere That he wulde a messe synge For that soule that she made preyng. The frere was an holy man ; And ar^ that he hys messe bygan, ^ didst cause to be sung. ^ partly. ^ extra allowance in a monastery, generally of food or drink. * ere. 9, lo The Vi7'tue of a Mass 209 He preyde to God hys orysoun Yn ful grete afflyccyoun, That hyt myght be hym to pay', The messe that he shulde synge that day. Whan the messe was do to ende, He bad the womman home to wende, " And, whan thou more efte* heres, Cum and sey to oure freres." The nyght aftyr, lesteneth now, He come, and seyd, " Slepest thou ? " " Nay," she seyd ; " how fare ye ? " '• Weyl," he seyd, " and so wurth the-'." " Were ye pay[ed]^ of that messe, That, for yow, sungyn ys ? " " Ye," he seyd, " graunte mercy, Thys messe to me ys more wurthy Than alle the worlde, an hunder sythe^ Ne myght have made me halfe so blythe ; Hys preyer was to God so dere. That he besoghte, that wlde« he here, Gyf he had preyd for an hundred mo, Fro pyne to blys, he had broght tho ; For what thyng he hade asked bone', God had graunted hyt hym as sone ; And have gode day, for now y wende To the joye with-outyn ende." 10 CANTERBURY AND YORK The quarrel for precedence between the two archbishops was at least as old as the Conquest; the acutest moment was in 1176, an incident which I have translated at length on p. 127 of my Medieval Garner, and may give here in Thomas Fuller's summary. {Ch. Hist, bk in. sect. iii. § 3.) A synod was called at Westminster, the pope's legate being present thereat; on whose right hand sat Richard, archbishop of Canterbury, as in his proper place; when in springs Roger ' plea.se. ^ again. ' may it be to thee. '"' pleased. '•' limes. •• would. ' as a boon. C. 14 2IO Church and Churchmen iv of York, and finding Canterbury so seated, fairly sits him down on Canterbury's lap; (a baby too big to be danced thereon !) yea, Canterbury's servants dandled this lap-child with a witness, who plucked him thence, and buffeted him to pur- pose.... Here the pope interposed, and, to end old divisions, made a new distinction, — "primate of all England," and "primate of England"; giving the former to Canterbury, the latter to York. Thus when two children cry for the same apple, the indulgent father divides it betwixt them ; yet so that he giveth the bigger and better part to the child that is his darling. The "last flash" of the controversy, as Fuller puts it, may be found in the following complaint of the Archbishop of York to Pope Nicholas III. in 1280 {Letters from the Northern Registers, R. S., p. 60). Lo, most reverend Father, on my return to England [from your court].... I set up my cross in the midst of the English seas as a token of my primacy, as is always wont to be done, and was quietly bearing it through the diocese of Canterbury, when Master Adam of Hales, official to the Archbishop of Canterbury, together with certain accomplices and adherents of his own and the Devil's, rushed violently upon me and my train like a brazen-faced madman, and wickedly dashed my cross to pieces ; yet blessed be the Lord ! I soon procured another and caused it to be carried erect before me. ...Nor was he con- tent with these revilings and assaults; for, when I entered the city of London, on the morrow he hastened to make a fierce assault upon me and mine with an immense multitude of armed men bearing staves, axes, swords and divers other weapons, to the huge scandal of us all.... Moreover, most exalted Father, my Lord of Canterbury, through his official and his servants, wheresoever I passed through his province in wonted fashion for the business of mine own church, did most cruelly prohibit and interdict to me and mine all lodgings, places of resort, and victuals, as though we had been heretics or folk cut off from the faithful by the actual sentence of excommunication; and, wheresoever I go or stay, he layeth the whole neighbourhood under ecclesiastical interdict. lo, II An Archiepiscopal Visitation 211 11 AN ARCHIEPISCOPAL VISITATION Matthew Paris, Hist. Major., R. S., vol. v. p. 121. It must be noted (i) that the Archbishop was in the right in insisting on his legal power of visitation, and the Canons wrong in resisting ; (2) that, in his later Hist. Minor., Matthew Paris makes the Archbishop behave more mildly, though still very differently from modem standards ; and (3) that his appointment had been a matter of political favouritism; he was son to the Count of Savoy, and uncle to Henry II I. 's queen. On May 12, 1250, the Canons of St Paul had refused to admit the Visitation and had been excommunicated : On the morrow, therefore, still swelling and inflamed with the wrath of yesterday, and wearing a coat of mail under his vestments (as witnesses relate), he came to visit the Canons of St Bartholomew's Priory, [Smithfield]. When he arrived and entered the church, he was met by the Subprior (for the Prior was away) followed by his convent in solemn and reverent procession, with much light of waxen tapers and loud peals from the church-bells, and clad in very precious choir-copes, whereof the most precious was worn by their leader, the Subprior. The Archbishop, paying little heed to the honour thus shown unto him, said that he was come to visit the Canons. Now they were all in the midst of the church, i.e. in the choir — the Canons, the Archbishop, and the Archbishop's train in a disorderly throng. Then answered one Canon for the rest, that they had a Bishop of experience and diligence, whose office it was to visit them when it was needful, and that they neither would nor should be visited by any other man, lest it should seem to be in contempt of the Bishop. The Archbishop, at these words, was moved to most inopportune and indecent wrath. He fell upon the Subprior, and, forgetting his own rank and the sanctity of his predecessors, he impiously smote that holy man — a Priest, a Religious, in the midst of the church — he smote him (I say) with impious fist, again and again, first on his aged breast, then on his venerable face, and lastly on his hoary head, crying loudly all the while "thus, thus should these English traitors be handled!"; and at length, raving with horrible 14--2 2 1 2 Church and Churchmen iv oaths which may not be repeated here, he bade them forth- with bring his sword. Then, when the tumult waxed fiercer, and the Canons strove to free their Subprior from the hands of this violent oppressor, the Archbishop tore with his own hands that precious cope wherein the Subprior was clad, and tore away the clasp (which men call morse in the vulgar tongue), which was trodden under foot and lost in that tumultuous crowd, though it was precious with silver and gems : nay, and the cope itself, of most costly workmanship, was trodden and torn, to its irremediable damage. Yet even thus the Archbishop's fury was not turned away ; for, thrusting the holy man violently from him, and driving him backwards, he so furiously crushed the Subprior's aged body against the arm-rest that divided two stalls, as to shake his bones to the very marrow, and to bruise his heart within him. The rest, seeing such immoderate wrath in the Arch- bishop, hardly tore their half-dead Subprior from the brink of destruction, driving his oppressor back. Then, as the Archbishop fell backwards, his vestments fell apart and his coat of mail was clearly seen by many men, who shuddered to see an Archbishop in armour; whereupon many augured that he was come not to visit and to correct faults, but rather to stir up bloody strife. Meanwhile the Archbishop's unruly Provencal attendants fell truculently upon the rest of the Canons, unwarlike, unarmed and* unprepared as they were ; and not only the Archbishop himself, but also some of these attendants at his bidding, maltreated many of the holy men, smiting them, tearing their vestments, overthrowing them and treading them down. The Canons therefore, foul with bruises and blood ; maltreated, dishevelled and torn, came to the Bishop of London, with grievous complaints and tears at this detestable deed. The Bishop advised them to complain to the King, who. however, sided with the Archbishop, though the Londoners nearly broke into open riot against the Archbishop. II, 12 A Model Parish Priest 213 12 A MODEL PARISH PRIEST John Capgrave (1393-1464) was born at Lynn, where he became head of the Austin Friary, and finally Provincial of his Order in England. He was a voluminous writer, mostly in Latin ; his chief patron was Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester. His Life of St Gilbert is founded on the official Latin life of the saint. It was dedicated to the then Master of the Order of Sempringham and especially intended (as the author tells us in his own preface) "for the solitary women of your religion which unnelhe can understand Latin, that they may at vacant times read in this book the great virtues of their master." The following extract is from E. E. T. S., vol. 140 (1910), pp. 62-5. This man Gilbert was bore in that same place cleped Sempingham. His fader was bore in Normandye, his modyr lady of this place be-for seide. His fader as thei say was a knyte of Normandye whech cam in-to this lond with Kyng William at the Conquest and weddyd the lady of this place.... Than was this man medeled^ with too blodis, Norman of the fader side, Englisch of the moderis side.... So semeth it that this man was not bore of no wrecchid nacion, ne of no servage, but of puple- gentil and fremanly and large ^ both on the fadir side and the modir. He was in his yong age and in his sim- plinesse ful gracious, lich on-to Jacob, whom for his clennesse and innocens the modir Rebecca, thorw inspiracion of God, preferred to be lord of all his bretherin, lich as this man is preferred to be maystir of al this religion.... He was at that age set to skole and lerned groundly in thoo scienses whech thei clepe liberal, as gramer, retorik, logik and swech* othir. But his corage' at that tyme was mor enclyned to lerne good maneris than sotil conclusiones, eke be-cause aftirward that he was ordeyned to be a techer of vertuous lyvyng, it was convenient that he schuld first be a disciple in that, in schole of honestie. In al his yong age was he clene fro swech vices as childyrn use, as lying, wauntown ragyn[g], and othir stynkyng condiciones. Evene thann be-gan he to be lich a religious man, to whech lyf he was applied be* God. In that same seculer lyf and in that tendyr age, he folowyd 1 mingled. '^ people. * generous. ■* such. ' heart. ® by. 2 1 4 Church and Churchmen iv as he coudc and myth', the reules of reHgious lyf, and to them all of whech^ he had ony power he ful benyngly gaf exaumple the same reules to folow. For first was he a maystir of lernyng to the smale petites, swech as lerne to rede, spelle and synge. Tho childyrn that were undyr his disceplyne he taute not only ther lessones on the book, but be-side this, he tawt for to play in dew tyme, and here playes taute he that thei schuld be honest and mery with-outen clamour or grete noyse. For thoug he had not at that tyme experiens of the good customes whech be used a-mongis religious men in monasteriis, yet had our Lord God at that age put in his brest these holy exercises, for he taute thoo disciples that he had to kepe silens in the cherch ; all an on our^ to go to bedde and eke to ryse to her lessones ; all went thei to-gidyr to their pley or ony othir thing. His moost labour and grettest desir was to Wynne soules to God with word and eke ensaumple, for the best sacrifise on-to God is the gelous love of soules./.. Whan he was promoted to the ordre of presthod, and had soules in governauns, and eke had receyved power to make ministracion of the goostly giftis whech be vertue of oure Lordes blod ar left in the cherch, than, as a trewe steward of his Lordes tresour,...the word of good exhortacion was not hid in him, but he delt it oute frely to them that wold lerne. For his auditorye was so endewyd with lernyng that it sempt* in all her* governauns 'the[y] had be norchid'^ in monasterye amongis the servauntis of God. Thei used non insolent drynkyngis, ne no longe sitting there, ne used not to renne to wrastillingis, ber-baytingis and swech othir onthrifty occupaciones, whech summe men now on dayes preferr be-for dyvyne servyse ; this used thei nout, but thei used to pray devoutly in the cherch, to pay treuly ther tythes, to walk aboute and visite pore men, to spend ther good in swech weye as is plesauns of God and coumfort to pore. Who-so had seyn them with-inne the cherch, he myth' sone discerne whethir thei wer Gilberd parischones or nowt, he had tawt them so wel to bowe ther bakkes and ther knes to God and so devoutly to bid ther bedes. 1 might. 2 over whom. '^ at one hour. •• seemed. " their. « nourished. ' might. 12, 13 Tithes 2 1 13 TITHES (rt) From Ouivil's Exeter Constitutions, § Llll. (D. Wilkins, Concilia, etc., vol. II. 1737, p. 158). Tithes, mortuaries, and customary offerings at Easter etc. were a cause of constant friction between parson and people. O marvellous and ineffable loving-kindness of our God, who, although He hath commanded that tithes and firstfruits be yielded to Himself, as to Him who hath the whole earth and the fulness thereof, not for His own profit but for that of His priests... yet doth also, as giver of all good things, reward fourfold w^ith the abundance of His benefits all v>-ho fully pay that tithe which He deigneth to receive — to wit, with abun- dance of harvest, with health of body, with indulgence of their sins, and with the gracious prize of His heavenly kingdom ! Let none therefore, through avarice, lose so great benefits as this.... Seeing that contention ariseth oftentimes between rectors of churches and their parishioners — since it is sometimes doubtful what and how much should be given for tithes when there are so few cows or sheep that no cheese can be made from their milk, or when in like manner there are too few calves, lambs, kids, chickens, piglings, geese, or fleeces, to be divided by ten, since there are not ten in all — therefore it is our will to hand down a certain rule in these matters ; for in leaving them to local custom we should rather increase than remove the matter for quarrels, since the customs themselves are disputed and denied. We therefore decree that one farthing should be given as tithe for each lamb, kid or pigling below the number of sevens If there are seven, let one be given for tithe ; and next year whatsoever is lacking from the number ten shall be allowed for in tithing.... For the milk of 1 These rates are certainly moderate ; between 1285 and 1290 we find piglings [pcrcellt] ranging from 2^d. to ^d. (or exceptionally even is. 7c/.); lambs from ^it. to S^d. (exceptionally, 15. ^d.); calves from 2s. i^d. to 2s. gd.; so that Quivil's tithe-rate seems to represent really only about one-twentieth of the selling price of the animal. (J. E. T. Rogers, History of Agriculture and Prices, vol. 11. pp. i94ff.) 2 1 6 Church and Churchmen iv each cow, if no cheese be made, let a penny be given; for that of each milch-ewe a farthing and for each she-goat a half- penny.... Again, seeing that certain persons, for their tithe of milk (which hath hitherto been given in cheese, according to the custom hitherto approved in our diocese), maliciously bring the milk itself to church, and— what is more wicked still- finding there no man to receive it, pour it out before the altar in contumely to God and His Church ; and others \a long list of similar frauds and subterfuges\ — We therefore, by the authority of God the Father Almighty, and of St Peter Prince of the Apostles, our patron saint, and with the approbation of the present holy synod, excommunicate all such evildoers with their aiders and abettors, until they shall have made com- petent satisfaction for their misdeeds. {b) Myrc, Instructions for Parish Priests, E. E. T. S., iS68, p. 21. Myrc was probably Chaucer's younger contemporary. The gret sentence I write here. That twies or thries in the yere Thou shalt pronounce, without lette, Whan thi parisse is togidir mette Thou shall pronounce this idous^ thing, With crosse and candell and bell knylling ; Speke oute redely, fir noght thou wond^ That all mowe^ the understonde. By auttorite of god almighte ffader and son and holy gost, and of al the Seyntes of heven. ffirst we accursen al them that broken the pece of holy chirch of sturben hit;... also all thilk* that, for wrath or for hate of eny person or vicary, propor tithinges with-holden, or destroyen with hem self or with her bestes, or beren awey, and all that consenten thereto. {c) Chaucer, C. T. Prologue, 1. 477. A good man was there of religioun, And was a Poore Persoun of a Toun.... Ful looth were hym to cursen for his tithes. (rt') An Alphabet of Tales (E.E.T.S., 1904) is an English 15th century translation from a Latin-French collection of anecdotes for the use of ' hideous. * for thou shall not fear. * may. * those. 13 Tithes 2 1 7 preachers, like Gesta Romanonim. Most of them are from ijlh century collections such as Caesarius of Heisterbach or Etienne de Bourbon ; but the translation shows clearly also what was to the taste of English congregations. The following is from p. 385 (Tale DLXXVii.). Jacobus de Vetriaco tellis how som tyme ther was a hus- band-man that was ane yll payer of his tenndisS and he wold seldom offer bod'^ if it were on solempne dayis, and than he wold offr a fals peny or ane ylP. So on a passch-day* hym happend emang other to com unto the howselburde^ and the preste, that knew that he usid evur to offer a fals peny, when he had gyffen other men ther howsell, he gaf this husband, in-stead of his howsell, the same yll peny that he offerd. And he chewid and feld [th]at it was hard, and grapid« in his mouthe what it was, and he fand it was the same fals peny that he had offerd ; and when he saw it he had grete mervell therof, and made mekuU sorow. So when mes was done, he come unto the preste wepand and sayd; "A! sur, my syn is so grete that it happend me this day [th]at the sacrament [th]att ye gaff me is turnyd in-to a fals peny," And the preste ansswerd hym agayn and said; " This thyng happynd not unto the with- oute som cawce'', and therfor thou haste done som horrible syn. Tell me what it is ! " And with grete shame he tolde hym in confession, and said ; " I shryfe me^ that I was so attemptid with covatice*, that evur when other folk offerd gude sylver I offerd alway ane ill penye." And than the preste said unto hym; "This was the jugement [th]at thou tolde me off; and herefor in-stede of the sacrament thou fand in thi mouthe ane ill peny. And therfor thou moste make restitucion," And so he did, and promysid that evur after fro thens furth he sulde trewlie pay his tend and offer gude sylver. And so the preste asoylid^" hym and gaff hym his howsell, and evur after he was a gude man. 1 tithes. ''' but. ^ bad one. * Easter. ^ communion table. " felt about. ^ cause. '* confess. ^ covetousness. '" absolved. 2 1 8 Church and Chirchmen iv 14 PARSON AND PARISHIONER From MS. Lambeth 51, fol. 5 b. The present compiler owes the communication of this passage, and the description of the MS., to the courtesy of the Provost of King's College, Cambridge. It is "an im- mense compilation, apparently only extant in this copy, of revelations of the other world, extracted from the lives of saints and the Vitae Patriivu by Peter, Prior of Holy Trinity, Aldgate, London (1197-1221). His other principal works were the Pantheologjis and De Advetitu Messiae, the latter a series of dialogues with a Jew." Cf Wharton, Anglia Sacra, I. 113. Like St Gregory the Great and other similar compilers of medieval visions, Peter explains in his Prologue that such collections are necessary to counteract the faithlessness of his contemporaries (f 2). Although (he says) nearly all nations of mankind have now cast away their idols and believe in One God, yet there are still some who believe that there is no God ; and that the world is ruled by chance ; and there are many who *' consider only what they see, believing neither in good nor in evil angels, nor in life after death, nor in any other spiritual and invisible things. Therefore, I, Peter, minister of the Church of the Holy Trinity in London, have collected, out of the lives and acts of the saints, the revelations and visions vouchsafed to them into this book, which I call Liber Revelatioiium I have confined myself to those which have oc- curred since Christs passion, excluding from my view the Old and New Testaments, which are accessible to all who care to look at them." Some of the anecdotes are taken from Peter's own experience ; and the following passage has been selected because it would be difficult to find any in medieval literature which casts a more quiet and natural light upon everyday relations between a^ parish priest and his well-to-do parishioners (f. 5 b). Moreover, not only that man's soul exists, but also that it has in it by nature something of the divine and a knowledge of future things, may be proved not only by those things which prophets and other saints are wont to foretell, but also by those things which men often see in sleep, and which afterwards come to pass even as they saw them. There was a certain faithful man of good deed and good repute named John, in that village of England which is called Orpington, who was wont to tell the following tale to me, Peter, who write these things. " One night " (he said) " as I slept in my own bed at home, it seemed that I rose from my couch early one Saturday and ordered my horse to be saddled. Then (as it seemed) I mounted him and rode to 1 4 Parson and Parishioner 2 1 9 my own church of Cray to hear Mass. When I had come thither I left my servant-lad outside with my horse, and came into church even as they were singing the Alleluia Vem Sancte Spiritus; for the parish priest, Gilbert by name, had already begun his Mass of the Holy Ghost and the clerks were singing Alleluia even as I came in. Then I heard the Gospel and remained in church until the whole Mass was sung through. After which I went out to my horse. When I had come to him, it seemed to me that at that moment the servant-lad of the aforesaid priest came with his master's horse ready to fetch him. Whereupon I asked the priest's groom whither his master meant to go, and the lad answered, To the Chapter of Eynsford. I waited therefore awhile by the side of my horse until the priest left the church and came to me. And when, in answer to my question, he answered that he was indeed going to the Chapter of Eynsford, then I made reply " I too am going to my sister's house, which is on the way. If thou therefore wilt go thither, let us ride to- gether." With this the priest accorded ; and we rode on until we came to a certain field wherein (as it seemed to me) I saw a white sow, fat and well-liking, but marked in many places with black spots ; behind her (as it seemed) followed many well- liking sucking-pigs marked in like manner with their mother. Then said the priest to me, for he rode by my side, "Sir John, dost thou see these sucking-pigs following their mother .'' Mark now my words. Although there are ten of them, yet their master will not give me a single one for tithe, albeit he be mine ow^n parishioner." At this speech of the priest I, John, stood and reined in my horse for awhile, and it seemed to me that in counting the pigs I found only nine ; wherefore I turned round to the priest and said, " All ye priests are too greedy, looking ever to your own advantage rather with eyes of ambition than with sober judgment. For, if it so please thee. Sir Priest, number now these sucking-pigs, and thou shalt not find them enough for the law to grant thee a tithe thereof, seeing that they are but nine." The priest, marvelling at this word, and numbering those pigs once more, remained still of the same mind, and said, " I have counted 2 20 Church and Churchmen iv ten of them"; which when I had denied, these diverse beliefs bred between us a certain pleasant and friendly contention. In short, as it seemed in my dream, we each promised solemnly to the other that whosoever could be convicted of having counted wrong, should be condemned to pay four gallons of wine to the other. Then we set about to number the pigs with great diligence, and I won my wager ; and lo ! even as I exulted in this my victory, I wakened from my sleep. In process of time, although this dream had slipped from, my memory and from my mind and although I thought thereon no longer, yet on the morrow there came to pass all that I had seen in my dream, even to the very last jot and tittle, and whatsoever I had already seen in my sleep I now saw with my waking eyes. For, to sum up briefly what I have already told at length, on the Saturday morning I rode to the aforesaid church: heard the same Alleluia and Gospel and Mass of the Holy Ghost; and, going forth, heard from the priest's groom that his master purposed to go to the aforesaid Chapter. I waited there for the priest to come out ; and, as we rode together by common consent, we came to the afore- said field, wherein I saw a sow with her sucklings like at every point to those which I had seen in my dream. Then at last I recalled what I had seen in my sleep ; for I swear to you with a solemn oath that I knew that sow and her piglings by sight better than any of my own pigs at home. At this sight, then, I recalled my dream ; and, marvelling at this strange thing, I reined in my horse for a moment and laughed. The priest, wondering that I halted with so sudden a change of countenance, asked me wherefore I laughed ; and I was fain to elude his question with such perfunctory and obscure answers as I could find. Then the priest looked at the pig- lings and said all even as I had heard in my dream ; and when I, for my part, answered concerning the cupidity of priests and the number of the pigs, with no less exact repetition of my vision, then we pledged ourselves that the victor should receive from the conquered four gallons of wine. After which we diligently counted the pigs, and I was victor. 14, 15 Parson and Parishioner 221 " Which " (said John) " deh'ghted me more with what I learned thereby than for my earthly gain ; for I was thus taught by mine own experience how the soul hath in it somewhat of divine, and thenceforward I was most firmly convinced that the soul liveth evermore." 15 A PIOUS FAMILY From MS. Lamb. 51, fol. 23 «. In the days of Henry the First, king of England, there befel a vision of marvellous import to a certain good and holy man, grandfather to me, Peter, fourth Prior of Holy Trinity, London, who here describe this man's vision, in so far as I can remember it after the lapse of so many years that have gone by since my father Jordan was wont to relate it to me in my boyhood. This same vision was told in past years by my grandfather aforesaid, Ailsi by name, to his son Jordan, who was then a youth ; which same Jordan retold it, in so far as the lapse of years had yet left it in his memory, to his said son Peter, then but a child but now verging on his sixtieth year There lived in Cornwall a man named Ailsi, simple and upright and godfearing, who kept himself from evil ; inas- much as he strove, his whole life long, to please God and St Stephen by good works. With such loving devotion did he cling to St Stephen, and to the canons of St Stephen in Cornwall, from whom he himself held his land, that he might be thought by a special prerogative of affection to have deserved this vision which God vouchsafed to show him. For St Stephen familiarly revealed to him many hidden matters and prophecies, and graciously cherished him in all his anxious cares, and oftentimes healed his infirmities, in order that by such frequent consolations he might give him to understand how pleasing was his life and his conversation to God. For St Stephen oftentimes appeared unto him in the likeness of a man of venerable aspect, as to his faithful and prudent servant whom the canons had chosen for their 1 i.e. of Lauiiceston=Llanstephan. 222 Church and Churchmen iv treasurer for the building of the tower of his church, com- mitting to his care and governance not only the work itself, but also the workmen and servants thereof The saint, therefore, would come to him in a vision and show him how he wished all things to be done, diligently teaching him which of the workmen were faithful and should be kept, which were faithless and should be sent away. Here follow three miracles, showing St Stephen's help and satisfaction in the work. (f 24 fl.) Moreover this Ailsi was once sick of a grievous infirmity in one of his eyes, so that all his neighbours believed that this eye must irrevocably perish, since no physician could bring any effectual remedy to his sickness. In which infirmity he suffered such grievous pain that at last he broke into im- patience ; and, departing from St Stephen's work, he took his way homeward, thus meanwhile addressing to the saint (to whom he had so often spoken as friend with friend) : " O blessed Stephen, Stephen ! " said he, " long time have I laboured in thy service ; yet now, methinks, in vain. For if I had served the Earl of Moreton, who is now Lord of Cornwall, so faithfully as I have long served thee, he would have enriched me with many gifts ; but thou, to whom I have committed myself and my whole soul and all that I possess, givest me over now to torture." And thus, with frequent repetition of these and suchlike 'reproaches, wrathfully in- veighing the while against St Stephen, and much anxious communing within his own mind, he came to his own housed But that night the blessed Stephen visited him, rebuking him mildly and gently for his evil words, and bringing him 1 For this medieval habit of making the Saint responsible for prayers unful- filled, see A Medieval Garner, p. 5. Perhaps the most interesting examples of all are in the Miracles de St Benott, ed. Certain, 1858, pp. 59, 149, 184, 185, 283, 327, 353. A peasant-woman at Harnicourt, for instance, failing to get justice by humble prayers, tucked up St Benedict's altar-cloth, beat the altar soundly and cried, "Effete old Benedict, idle and slothful, what doest thou? why sleepcst thou?" After this, her prayers were heard. Cf also Gervase of Canterbury's account of the conflagration at his Cathedral in 1174 (R. S., vol. i. p. 5). The crowd, furious and indignant at the disaster, " hurled grisly curses leitormia quaedatn maledicta] against God and His Saints, the patrons of that edifice." 15 A Pious Family 22 o solace with full health of body ; for he touched his eye and blessed it.... (f. 25 «.) This man of God then, this Ailsi, was so familiar with St Stephen (with whom in truth he oftentimes spake face to face as a man speaketh with his friend), that the saint's person became well known to him through these frequent and familiar sights and colloquies, and Ailsi was wont to describe him to his acquaintance. Wherefore it came to pass that, even as he himself was a good and holy man, and was styled " the holy " by reason of his frequent visions of St Stephen, so also he begat and fostered and brought up his children in the fear of the Lord ; who themselves also were justified in their kinship to him ; so that all who knew the father were wont to call his sons " the half-saints." For this godly man Ailsi had (over and beyond the daughters whom he begat, and who also strove their best to follow in the footsteps of their father's sanctity) four sons, each of whom in like manner did in some degree follow after his father's holiness ; and all clave to St Stephen, after their father's example, with special and singular affection..,. His eldest, Bernard, and Nicholas his second, so grew up in all good- ness that through their learning and their virtues they earned the close familiarity and affection of king Henry of England, and were esteemed first among the foremost at his court. One became a royal chaplain ; another was a canon of JNIerton. These two brethren, Bernard and Nicholas, gave to the church of St Stephen, together with many other gifts, a dark blue banner embroidered with gold ; in the midst whereof is woven the Agnus Dei ; and beneath, the stoning of St Stephen ; and at the four corners the symbols of the four evangelists ; which banner is still held there in great venera- tion. Moreover these same brethren gave also to that church a carpet, and an ivory casket full of relics, adorned with silver clasps and studs ; which casket was once their writing-case, and still contains their great silver inkstand. The third of these brethren was called Jordan of Trecarl, who was a layman like his father ; a man just in his genera- tion, after that he was grown to man's estate ; most humble 2 24 Church and Churchmen iv and quiet and mild of heart ; a lover of peace, affable to all men, and of marvellous kindness to his enemies; to his servants and serfs he was almost a companion. He was learned in the secular law and customs beyond all his brethren, and famous among all men ; and, by reason of his greater learning in these matters, he was frequented by all who were in necessity ; yet he would maintain no cause for gain unless he knew it to be just; wherefore he was wondrously loved and venerated by all. He, though younger than these two others, received the paternal inheritance be- cause he was a layman. He loved St Stephen with all his strength and with all his heart.... (f. 26 a.) The fourth son of the aforesaid man of God, Ailsi, was named Paganus, for that he was long time a pagan ; that is, he lived twelve years before he was baptized ^ In a brief space after his baptism, God took him to Himself, lest his mind should be changed by the malice of the world. After the death of this child, the holy man began to ponder within himself concerning the future state of the blest ; but, seeing that neither he, as a layman, knew aught thereof, nor could any other man give him any sure tidings, he remained in great anxiety of mind ; and, the less he knew of the pains of the damned or the rewards of the blest, the more solicitous he was to learn these things. But God would not that His beloved servant should long waver among such doubts and ignorances ; therefore He sent unto Ailsi, in a vision of the night, his son Paganus aforesaid, to inform him of all these things and to lead him down to the place of hell-pains, and up to the mansions of the blest. He dreamed that he was going on a pilgrimage, with a company of other pilgrims, to Jerusalem, and that he had already performed a great space of his journey. On their way, therefore (so it seemed), they all descended in a troop from a certain mountain into a dale, wherein so thick a cloud stretched from side to side that each was parted from his ' Though there were not infrequent complaints that, through negligence or bad management, large numbers of children died unbaptized, I know of no other case like this, where pious parents deliberately deferred baptism. 15 A Pious Family 225 fellow, nor could Ailsi find any man to teach him whither he went. So this man of God, finding himself left thus desolate, began to cry and shout for his fellows ; but no man answered him. Pushing forward therefore, and praying as he went, and calling on God and St Stephen for help, never despairing of their succour but always pressing on, he came to the bottom of that vale, where he saw a great river, whereof his eye could measure neither length nor breadth, both for its own immensity and for the darkness of that cloud. In great doubt of mind, he set himself now to go hither and thither on the bank of that stream, both up and down, if by any chance he might find a bridge and pass over to the other bank. But, finding none, nor any trodden way, he stood there weary and downcast and almost despairing, as knowing neither what to do nor whither to turn. As he thus looked this way and that, praying in bitter trouble for the help of God and St Stephen, then the fullness of his devotion earned him an answer to his prayer. For, among his direst doubts, behold ! his own son Paganus stood by his side, and greeted him ; and, being greeted in return, asked him what he would have and whither he went. The father, amazed and afraid at the sight of this his son whom he knew to be dead, cried aloud, " Art thou then my Paganus, and art thou not dead ? " To whom the other made answer, " I am indeed thy dead son Paganus ; but by God's will I am come hither for thy succour." [Paganus carries his father on his back across the stream, and shows liim first the torments of the damned, and then the delights of the blessed ; these do not differ sufficiently from the conventional medieval descriptions to warrant their insertion here. The closing sentences, however, are interesting in their resemblance to the last stanzas oi Pearl, except the obvious deviation from the Apocalypse in the matter of the temple.] In the midst of that vast plain [of Paradise] was a temple so great and fair that it was a marvel to see ; whereunto the blessed souls would enter and tarry awhile to praise God ; and then after a while they would go forth again ; but ever they praised the Lord and rendered Him infinite thanks for His lovingkindnesses bestowed upon them. This temple was c. 15 2 26 Church and Church7nen iv all glittering with gold, within and without, and adorned with an infinite variety of colours and pictures, and spangled everywhere with precious gems that cast their light all around. What more shall I say? All the souls there were making merry with hand-clapping and singing, and prayer and praise and blessing of God. When therefore Ailsi had noted al( this, and while he stood rapt in excess of joy at this great tranquillity of the souls, and this delightful plain of Paradise, and the beauty of this temple, then said the son unto him : " Beloved father, here dwell I now with these holy souls ; and here I enjoy the utmost tranquillity and delight, waiting ever patiently for the time of my assumption to heaven, where the angels and the spirits of those made perfect see the Lord of lords in Sion. To this place of joy and quiet thou thyself also, dearest father, shalt be brought after thy death, when thou hast first suffered punishments for the evils which thou hast done in the flesh. Now, therefore, must thou return unto the world, and to thine own household ; and then, when thou hast lived but a brief while longer, thou shalt be laid with thy fathers, ending thy life in a good old age. But now, having seen, both by the pains of some souls and by the glory and quiet of others, what are the things which should be avoided and what should be embraced, thou knowest enough to safe- guard thyself and to forewarn others." Then the father, being thus certified of his son's death and of his own return to the world, was grieved beyond all that tongue can tell, standing in doubt and in amazement; until at length he said, " Be sure, my son, that I will never leave thee, nor ever tear myself away from this joy ! " " Nay," said the boy ; " for no man may come to dwell in this place but if he die first." Nevertheless the father would have used force with his son, that he might stay in that place; and there arose a long dispute between those twain, the one refusing by all means to depart, and the other showing how he must first taste of death ; until at last both child and vision melted away together, and the father awoke to find himself in his own house, much troubled by reason of this dream. 15-17 A IVholesome Vision 227 16 A WHOLESOME VISION Myrc's Festial, E.E.T.S., 1901, p. 5. It must be remembered that, as the Church was the poor man's Bible, so the most conspicuous paintings in the churches often represented, with the crudest reaHsm, the Last Doom and the pains of hell. Seynt Bede telleth that ther was a husbond-man yn Englond that fell seke, and lay as for ded from the eventyds tyll the morow. Then aros he, and departed his godys' yn thre partyes, and his partye he gaf to pore men, and yede- and was made a monke yn an abbay that stod by a watyr syde. Ynto the whech watyr ych-' nyght he yede yn, wer hyt never soo coold froste, and stod ther long tyme of the nyght. And when he was asket, why he put hymselfe ynto so moche penaunce, he unswered: "Forto eschoyn* the more pay ne that I have seyn," and ete barly-bred, and dranke watyr all his l}fe aftyr. And he wold tell to relygyous men the payne that he segh, that was soo gret, that he cowthe not tel hit openly. He sayde that an angyll lad hym ynto a place that on the toon^ syde was suche a colde, that no tong myght tell the payne therof; and on that other syde was suche a hete, that no man myght tell the payne therof... and sowles wern cast out of that won into the tother. And so that angyll schewet hym the fyre that come out at the mowthe, that was the fyre of hell; that was so hote, that als ferre as he myght seen hit, hym thoght he brennet for hete. And yn the lees therof he segh sowles bulmyng® up and don, cryyng horrybuly, and a noyse of fendes cryyng ; " Sle", sle, sle, sle, sle, sle, opon the broche*, rost hote, cast ynto the cawdren*, setthe^" fast yn pyche, and cood^S ^nd brymston, and hot leed !" 17 PURGATORY Ibid., p. 269. In Die Animariim Sermo Brevis ad ParocJiianos. Good men and woymen, as ye kneweth wel, the morow aftyr All-halow-day ys evermor Sowlemasse-day, that ben yn purgatory yn Goddys pryson and have gret nede to be &■ ^ goods. ^ went. ^ each. ^ avoid. ^ one. '' swirling ^ slay. ^ spit. " cauldron. '" seethe. " tar. 15- 2 28 Church and Chunh?nen iv holpon. Wherfor, as holy chyrche thys day worschepyth all the scyntes of Heven generaly yfere', hopyng to be holpen by thom, ryght soo, on Sovvlesmasse-day, holy chyrch makyth m}nd, and syngyth and redythe generaly for all the sovvles that ben yn purgatory, havyng full beleve forto relesch'^ thom of thor payne, othyr^ yn parte, othyr yn all. Wherfor ych* crysten man and woman schall, as thys day, helpe the sowles that ben yn payne, for soo thay mown' and they woll ; for the lest prayer that ys made for thom dothe t!wm ese, so thagh" a man say but thus : "God have mercy on all crysten sovvles !" so that he that sayth thus, be yn chary te and out of dedly synne. Then schull ye know wele that thre thynges helpen soules most out of penance, that ys : devot prayng, almes-gevyng, and masse-syngyng. Devot prayer helpyth moch a man sowle ; for, as a lord that hath a man yn dystres, at the prayer of his godde servand, other he relesches all, other som[e], soo God, at the prayer of his trew servand, releschuth a sowle that he prayth for, othyr yn party, other yn all, (p. 270.) Also almes-gevyng helpyth moch thom ; for as watyr quenchethe fure yn our syght, ryght soo almes-dede qwenchethe the fure that brenneth thom yn thor payne.... The thrydde helpe that the sowle hathe ys massys syngyng; for when any soule apereth to any man, evermore he wylneth^ and prayth forto have massys sohgen for hym. For ryght as mete and drynke conforteth a man when he ys febull, ryght soo the sacurment comfortethe and strenktheth the sowles that hyt byn don fore.... (p. 271.) In the [Golden Legend] we fynden how that fyschers of Seynt Tybaude yn the hot hervest token yn thor nettes a gret clot of yse*, and beron hyt to hym, for he was pottagur''; and wyth that yse thay refreschet the grete hete of his fete, as oft as hit was layde to. Then herd he a voyce that spake to hym out of the yse and sayde : " I am a sowle that dray my penons" her; and woldyst thou syng thrytty masses contynuantly I schuld be delyverd of my penance." ^ together. '^ release. ^ either. " each. '■' are able. " though. ' desireth. * ice. ^ i^outy. ■" dree my penance. 17, 1^ Purgatory 229 Then thys good man sayde he wold. And soo, when he had sayde a quantyte of thes massys, be steryng^ of the fende on[e] come to hym, and told hym how all the towne was at debate, and yche was redy to sle- other, and he most nedos come forto ses^ thorn, and soo he dyd. Eftsones he began ageyne, and when he had seyd halfe the masses, then come ther another and told hym how enmyes war comen, and bysegyd the towne, and he most nedys go and ordeyne therfor ; and so he laft hys masse. Eftsones and yet he beganne ageyne. And when he had songen all the masses but the last, then come ther a worde that all hys place and moche of the towne was on fure, and he most helpe hymselfe, lest he wer brent. Then sayde he " thagh all bren and I bothe, with the helpe of God I wyll syngne this masse." And when the masse was sayde, hit was fonde^ all fantesy of the fend and noght els ; and then was the yse molten away, and so the soule holpen. And pray we so to Jhesu that he wol help all the sowles that we ben bonden her forto pray for. Amen. 18 A VISION OF HEAVEN This Revelation was really made to a monk of Eynsham, near Oxford, in 1 196. It was recorded in Latin by his brother Adam, the biographer of St Hugh of Lincoln, who was afterwards Prior of Eynsham. The present English version was printed about 1480 with the misreading Evesham, and reprinted by Arber in 1869. See H. E. Salter, Cartulary of the Abbey of Eynsham^ vol. II. 1908, p. 257. Revelation to the Monk oj Evesham (Arber), p. 107. ...what brightnes and clerenes of light was there within- forthe al aboutys, no man aske ne seche of me; for y can not only [not] telle hit by worde but also y can not remembre hit in mynde. That gloryous schyning light was brighte and smothe, and so raveshte a man that behylde hit that hit bare a man above hym selfe by the grete brightnes of lyghte; yn so mekyl that what-sumever y sawe before hit was as no thing, me thought, in comparyson of hit. That bryghtnesse, thawghe hyt were inestymable, neverthelesse hyt dullyd not a mannys syghte : hyt rathyr scharpyd hyt. Sothly hyt schynyd ful mervelusly ; but more ynestymably hyt dely tyd a man that ^ by instigation. •^ slay. ^ put an end to. ■* lound. 2 ^o Church a7id ChurcJimen iv J behylde hyt, and wondirfully cowpulde' a mannys syghte to se hit. And wythynforthe no thyng y myght see, but lighte and the walle of crystalle throw the whyche we came yn. And also fro the gronde vppe to toppe of that walle were grycis^ ordende and dysposyd feyre and mervelusly, by the whyche the joyful company that was cum yn at the forseyde gate gladly ascendyd uppe. Ther was no labur, ther was no diffi- culte, ther was no taryng yn her ascendyng; and the hier they wente the gladder they were. And, yn thys vision that y saw, so mekylle y concevyd yn my sowle of joy and gladnes that, wat-sumever may be seyde of hyt by mannys mowthe, ful lytyl hyt ys and onsufficient to expresse the joy of myne herte, that y had there. Therfore when y had seyn al these syghtys above seyde, and many othyr innumerable, my lorde sent Nycholas that hylde me by the hande seyde schortly thys to me. Loo sonne (he seyde) now a party' aftyr they peticion and grete desir thow haste seyne and beholde the state of the worlde yat ys to cumme, as hyt myghte be to possible. Also the perels of hem that offendyn and erryn, the peynys of synners; the reste also of hem yat have done her purgacion, the desyrys of hem that be goyng to hevynward, and the joys of hem that now byn cumme to the courte of hevyn and also the joy of crystis reynynge. And now thow muste go ageyne to they selfe and to thyne, and to the worldys feyghtyng. Treuly thow schalt have and perceve the joys that thow haste seyne, and mekyl more, yeffe thow contynew and persever in the drede of god. And when he had seyde thys to me he browghte me forthe throwe the same gate that we came yn; wherfor ful hevy and sory was y and more than a man may suppose ; for wele y knew that y must turne ageyne fro that hevynly blysse to thys worldys wrechidnes. And gretely he exhortyd me, how y schulde dyspose me to abyde the day of my callyng oute of my body yn clennes of herte and of body, and mekenes of spirite wyth dylygent kepyng of my religyon. Dylygently ^ accorded with. The Latin here has coaptabat, which the translator has rendered literally by coupled. 2 steps. " partly. 1 8 A Vision of Heaven 231 (he seyde to me,) kepe the commaundementys of god, and dyspose they levyng aftyr the example of ryghtvves men. And truely so hyt schal be, that aftyr the terme of they bodely levyng thow schal be admyttyd blessydly to her feleschippe everlastyngly. And whyle the holy confessour sent nycholas thys wyse spake yet with me, sodenly y harde ther a solenne pele and a rynggyng of a mervelus svvetenes, and as al the bellys yn the worlde or what-sumever ys of sownyng' had be rongyn to gedyr at onys. Trewly yn thys pele and rynging brake owte also a mervelus swetenes, and a variant medelyng'^ of melody sownyd wyth alle. And y wote not whether the gretnes of melody, or the swetnes of sownnyng of bellys was more to be wondirde. And to so grete a noyse y toke good hede, and ful gretly my mynde was suspendyd to here hyt. Sothly anone as that gret and mervelus sownnyng and noyse was cessyd, sodenly y saw my selfe departyd fro the swete feleschippe of my duke and leder sent Nicholas. Than was y returnyd to my selfe ageyne. and anone y hard the voycis of my brethyrne that stode abowte our bedde; also my bodely strenthe cam ageyn to me a lytyl and a litil, and myn yes opinde to the use of seying, as ye sawe ryghte wele. Ful delectable hyt was to hym, as he seyde, fro that tyme forthe, as ofte as he harde any solenne pele of ryngyng of bellys ; by cause hyt wolde then cum to hys mynde ageyne, the ful swete pele and melody the whyche he herde when he was amonge the blessyd sowlys yn paradyse. Sothely, aftyr that he was cum to hym selfe and hys brethirne had tolde hym that now ys the holy tyme of yestyr^ than fyrste he beleved, when he harde hem rynge solenly to complen. For then he knew certenly that the pele and melodye, that he herde yn paradyse wyth so grete joy and gladnes, betokynde the same solennyte of yestir yn the whyche owre blessyd lorde and savyur jhesus criste rose uppe visibly and bodely fro dethe on to lyfe, to [wjhome wyth the fadyr and the holy gooste be now and evermore everlastyng joye and blysse Amen. ^ sounding. " mingling. ^ Easter. 232 Chm'ch and Churchmen iv 19 FOUNDATION OF A RELIGIOUS ORDER St Gilbert was born in or before 10S9 at Sempringham in Lincolnshire, then on the edge of the fens. His father was a wealthy Norman knight named Jocelin; his mother, a Saxon lady. In 1131 he founded a small commvinity which soon grew into the only purely English Monastic Order of the Middle Ages. He died in 1 189 "at the age of more than 100 years," says his contemporary biographer, and was canonized by Innocent III. in 1202. There is an excellent study of his life and work by Rose Graham (1901), though her chapter on the Dissolution must be read with some caution. St Gilbert's life was first written in Latin by Roger, his suc- cessor in the Mastership of the Order, and translated into English by the Lynn friar John Capgrave in 145 1. The following extract comes from pp. 81-90 of that life (E.E.T.S., vol. 140, 1910). In that same time (that is to say in the reign of King Harry the Second) were in the town of Sempringham certeyn maydenes seculer, whos soules the seed of Goddis word, sowyn be this same Gilbert, had so touchid that thei were rype on-to reh'gion lich as corn is white to hervest. These same maydenes, desyring to be victouifis of her kynde^ and eke of the world, every day entendyd to no othir thing but to plese and to be kynt- to that spouse whech is in hevene. This [being] aspied be Seynt Gilbert (specialy whan he had in his avow mad a promisse that his possession of Sempyngham and of Tyrington schuld be gove* to God, ferthermor that he wold geve this to [the] pore, and eke he fonde no men at that tyme wold lyve so streytly as these women were disposed for this cause), he determyned to gyve these goodes to swech pore whech were por in spirit and myth^ chalange the kyngdam of Hevene for them and for othir. This man Gilbert mad him frendes with swech rychesse as he had, whech frendis schuld receyve him in-to everlasting tabernacles. The first frendes that he made wer not of men but of wommen. . . . Oure Gilbert be-gan his per- feccion at the febiller kende, for to the febiller kynde nature techeth that we schuld do our benefetes....And be-cause that no man whech servyth God may serve wel God and be occu- pied with temporal besinesse, eke be-cause virginite is a tendir thing and may sone be tempted of the sotil deceytes of the serpent, the Devele, whech is ful eld of tyme and ful sotil of ^ over their nature. "^ kind. ^ given. ^ might. 19 Foundation of a Religions 07'der 233 kynde and sone deceyveth virginite, namely whann it is sette so open that it is schewid to the world, — for tresour openly bore Is put in gret perel,— for this cause he sperd ^ these virgines fro the noyse of the world, fro the sith- of men, that thei whech schuld entyr in-to the privy chaumbyr of the spouse thei schuld only entende on-to^ the swete halsyng^ of the same spouse.... And though thei lyved in flesch and not aftyr the flesch,yet wost he wel as longe as thei were in flesch, be-side' swech neccessaries as [be]longe to the flesch, thei myth not lyve, therfor al thing that is nedful to our fleschly febilnesse, as mete, or drynk, or clothing, or houses, all these ordeyned he to these maydenes and ther servauntis in best maner, in mesur and discrecion. That is to seyn, swech houses as long to religion, with a cloystir, or a clauser, wallid abowte, and in thoo houses he sperd the hand maydenes of our Lord, evyn for to dwelle ther in solitarie lyf ; and this werk was undyr the wal of the cherch of Seynt Andrew, in the strete or town of Sempyngham, on the north side, first axid and had the counsel and the help of Alexaunder, than bischop of Lincoln. Dore was there non mad in the wal but on[e], and that was not open but swech tyme as schal be touchid afterward ; there mad ht a wyndown thorw whech thei myth receyve swech neccessaries as longe to her lif. For, though thei wer in the world he wold put them oute of the world, fro ther lond, iro ther kynrod, from ther fadir hous....Thus bonde he ther bodies with-inne thoo walles at that same place Sempingham. But he wold not, though he prisoned ther bodyes, bynde ther soules fro God, but this was his entent to close them, be-cause that conversacion in the world is wone to departe many men fro that familiarite whech thei schuld have with God. Eke be-cause that thei myth no-where go oute, therfor he ordeyned on-to ther servyse certeyn maydenes not lerned, in a pore seculer habite, whech schuld brynge on-to that wyndowne mad in the wal all thing that was necessary for them, and receyve of them at that same hole swech thingis as was convenient to bere out. That same hole left he ope, but not evyr ope, lor it was opened but at certeyn tymes 1 he (Gilbert) shut out. ^ sight. ' listen unto. '■ greeting. '•' without. 2 34 Church and Churchmen iw whech wer assigned, for he wold a sperd ' it for evyr if it had be so that men or vvommen myth a leved with-oute mete or drynk or other necessaries. For a dore was mad beside, but nevyr open with-oute his special comaundment, not for the maydenes to go owt, but for him to entyr on-to them for goostly coumfort, or techyng of religion, or visiting of the seke, or swech othir neccessarie causes ; eke of that dore was he gayler^ him-self ; no man bare that keye but he. Whidir that he went, wher-evyr he dwelt, the keye of that dore was with hym, so was he gelous lover of there clennesse. Aftir this he stodyed sor that there schuld no thing owtward breke that pes whech these solitarye folk had in ther clauser. He lerned eke of religious men and wise men that it was not convenient, ne sykir*, that seculer maydenes rennyng a-boute the world schuld serve swech solitarye persones ; for evel speche often tyme appeyreth* ful good maneres, and eke thei that runne so a-boute schuld bryng clatering tydingis, whech myth apeyre^ the soules of the nunnes. For this cause thoo same seculer maydenes, with the good counsel of ther fader Gilbert and part[l]y with ther owne devocion, desired to have a religious habite and so dwelle with the nunnes ; and as thei desired so had thei. For ther, whan thei wer clad in a ful pore lyf, thei served the nunnes and lyved in ful honest con- versacion Than say our fader in his inwardly consideracion that, with-outen mennys solace and purvyaunce, womennes besi- nesse profitith but lytyl ; therfor chase he certeyn men whech schuld ovyr-se ther possessiones and have governauns of all tho grete materes whech longed on-to them. Summe of these chase he of his plowmen and of his servauntes, summe of pore mennes childyrn and beggeres whech he had norched fro ther childhod. He was lich the servaunt of whech the gospel spekith, that at the comaundment of our Lord went in-to the lanes and stretes of the cite, and swech as he fonde pore or febil, brou[gh]t and compelled them to enter, that his lordis hous schuld be ful.... Thus be processe of tyme, be the wil of our Lord God, ...many rich men, noblemen of Ynglond, that is ^ would have shut. - jailor. ^ safe. ■* corrupteih. ^ impair. 19 Foundation of a Religious Order 235 to seye, Erles, Barones, and othir,... offered many possessiones to our fader Gilbert ; and monasteries, in many provynces, undyr his reule and governauns, thei be-gunne to edifie; of whech helpes AHsaundr biscop of Lincoln was first, and Kyng Herry the secunde, he confermed all. Our fadir Gilbert receyved these possessiones with ful gret dred ; and summe was he in maner coact' to receyve; summe refused he and wold not have them, because his desir was fro the begynnyng of his ordre that his progenie schuld lyve in honest poverte. Honest poverte clepe we, that a man is not in myschef for his dayly nede, ne he hath neythir no gret superfluite of good. This was the cause that he wold not have ovyr mech whan it was gove him, for often-tyme it is seyn that a-mong gret multitude of puple and gret plente of richesse rise ful gret spottis of pride, as it is said be the wise man : In the multi- tude of the puple joye of the kyng [Prov. xiv. 28]. For his first purpos at his beginnyng was for to a kept no moo but thoo [first]. sevene whech he had sperd up, that as long as thei lyved there schuld be no moo. But he sey^ be the wil of our Lord that rich men had multiplied many monasteries to encres^ of this ordre ; he wold not be contrarie to Goddis wil, ne lette the devocion of the geveres, ne be rekles of the sustentacion to the servauntis of God, knowing wel that this was Goddis vertu, and not his ; wherfor, he comitted al this disposicion to the profund councell of our Lord whech use[th] the servyce both of good and evel after his plesauns. Whan our maystir Gilbert say* thus the childyrn of God grow soo undir his tuycion and say them profiten day be day in the weye of God on-to the tyme in whech thei were gretly magnified, he demed of him-self (as it longith to good soules to have them-self in litil reputacion), so demeth he him-self on-worthi for to be in swech heith^ that he schuld have gover- nauns ovyr so many parfit persones. He therefore attended a General Chapter of the Cistercians, at which Pope Eugenius 1 1 1, was present, and besought them to assume the govern- ment of this new Order. His answer had he of the Pope and of the abbotis whech ' forced. ^ g^w. ^ increase. * saw. '•' such Iieight. 236 Church and Churchmen iv were present : thei saide it was not convenient that prelatis of ther order schuld be preferred to the governauns of an-othir ordre, specialy wher wommen were. Thus frustrat of his pur- pos, he took his leve, and, be the comaundment of the Pope and counsel of the prelates there present, he was mad maystir and principall ovyr that congregacion whech he had begunne. 20 MONASTIC QUARRELS Medieval disciplinarians constantly refer to the temptations to bad blood among these cloistered communities, both male and female; cf. Piers Plowman, c. vii. 128 ff., though the author is there more tender to the male religious than many official disciplinarians are. Fights and bloodshed are not infrequently recorded, but seldom anything so grave as the following incident, which was aggravated by the folly of a Norman abbot who wished to impose new-fangled methods of psalmody upon his Saxon subjects. One account may be found in The Anglo-Saxcn Chronicle, R. S., vol. 11. p. 184 ; that here printed is from Trevisa's Higden, vol. VII. p. 299. A milder affair is recorded in W. H. Bliss's Calendar of Papal Letters, 11. p. 213 (1321 A.D.). This yere [1081] was a corsed stryf bytwene the monkes of Glastyngbury and the unthryvynge^ abbot Thurstan, that kyng William hadde i-brought thider out of the abbay of Cadoni [Caen], and made hym abbot of Glastingbury, that cowthe non manere witte of redynes^ Among his other lewed- nes and folic he despised Gregori his song and offys', and bigan to compelle the monkes for to use the song of oon* William monk of [Fescamp].... He wasted and spend the cherche good and cateP in leccherie, and chalengede cruellkhe the ordre and service of the monkes, and with drough* therwith there mete and drynke; thereof come chidynge and strif of wordes and discord of wittes and of thowghtes, ffor Lucanus seith, " Fastynge folk conneth'' nought drede." Thanne after chidynge and stryf men took wepone. And the abbot, with his men of armes, fel i-armed on the monkes, slowgh tweyne at the highe awter^ and woundede eyghtene, and schot arewes to ymages and schrynes of the cherche. The monkes, as they were i-dreve* to by nede, defended them self as wel as they 1 ignominious. * knew no kind of prudence. ^ service. ■* one. * chattels. * withdrew. <■ know. ^ altar. *> impelled. 19-2 1 Monastic Quarrels 237 myghte yn everiche side with foormes and stooles and candle- stikkes, and woundede som of the knyghtes. This cause was i-meoved' to-fore the kyng, and the abbot was i-chaunged and i-torned to his owne abbay in Normandie. 21 ABBOT AND TOWN This story is told from a very different point of view by Bartholomew de Cotton, himself a monk of Norwich at the time {Hist. Anglicana, R. S., pp. 147 ff.)- The king certainly took the monks' side ; and it is probable that the citizens on the whole were the worst offenders in this affray. Chronicles of Old London (H. T. Riley, 1863, p. 150). This year [1271], in the month of August, there befell at Norwich a certain most unhappy calamity, and one hitherto unheard of by the world, as among Christians ; for the Cathedral Church in honour of the Holy Trinity, which had been founded there from of old, was burnt by fire, purposely applied, together with all the houses of the monks built within the cloisters of the said church. And this took place through the pride of the person who at that time was Prior of this Convent ; as from the following facts may be ascertained. For by assent and consent of this same Prior, the grooms and servants of the monks very frequently went into the City, beating and wounding men and women, both within their houses and without, and doing much mischief. This Prior also used to endeavour to draw away men of the franchise from the commons of the City, in order that they might be under his own jurisdiction, and severed from the commons. Also, whereas the monks have a fair by ancient custom each year, it happened this year, about the Feast of Holy Trinity, that after the citizens had come with their merchandize there, and the greater part of them, at the end of the fair, had returned home, the servants of the monks, wickedly assaulting those who remamed, beat and wounded them, and slew some ; and for this they never cared to make any amends; but, always persevering in their malice and wickedness towards the citizens, perpetrated all manner of mischief. The citizens ' brought. 238 Church and Churchiien iv however, no longer able to endure so many evils, and such violence as this, assembled together and had recourse to arms, in order that they might repel force by force ; which this most wicked Prior understanding, brought over a great multitude of malevolent persons from Yarmouth, who had been rob- bers, plunderers, and malefactors, during the disturbances in the realm. All these persons, coming by water to the Convent, ascended to the belfry where the bells were hung, fortified it with arms, just as if it were a castle, and took aim with their bows and arbalests therefrom, so that no-one could pass along the streets or lanes near the Convent, without being wounded. The citizens, seeing these acts of violence, were of opinion that these misdoers were acting manifestly against the peace of his lordship the King, in thus setting up a spurious castle in his city. Accordingly, meeting together, and coming to a determination to seize these persons and to bring them to j udgment in the King's name, they provided them- selves with arms ; and, approaching the closed gate of the court- yard, on being unable to enter it by reason of the armed men by whom it was defended, set fire to it, and ruthlessly burnt the gate. The fire spreading, however, the belfry was burnt, and all the d^vellings of the monks, as well as, according to what some say, the Cathedral Church, alas ! together with all the relics of the saints, books, and ornaments, of the church ; so that whatever could be burnt -was reduced to ashes, a certain chapel only excepted, which remained unburnt. The monks however, and all who were able, took to flight and made their escape ; though still, some persons on either side were slain. 22 ST DOMINIC THE SAVIOUR Myrc, Liber Festialis, p. 73 (E.E.T.S., Extra Series, 1905). Thus, good men, ye most^ understond how gret vengeans God toke on the world for wykednesse of synne; and now, more harme ys, the pepull ar as 'full of synne as thay wer that tyme ; and therfor God will take vengeans, [n]er^ the prayers of holy sayntys and specyaly of our lady. ' must. '-^ but lor. 21-33 5/ Dominic the Saviour 239 For this I rede yn the lyfe of Seynt Domink. When he was on a nyght yn his devocyons he segh our Lord Jhesu holdyng thre speres yn his hond, redy forto schote to the world for vengeans. Then come our lady anon, and kneled before hym, and sayde: "My dere sonne and swet, what wyll ye do?" Then sayde he : " Dere modyr, the world ys full of pride, and of covetyse and of lechery; wherfor, wyth these thre swerdys, I woU schote at hom^" Then sayde our lady: "My swete Sonne, have mercy, and yet abyde a whyle; I have on[e] trew servand, the wheche schall goo, and preche, and turne the world to the." And so scho send forth Saynt Domink, and bade hym go, and preche Godys worde, and turne the pepull ; and so he dude. Thus, good men, ye have herde how by prayer [of] our lady and by prechyng of thys good man, God spared to do vengeans that tyme. But nowe, more harme ys, the pepull ys combyrt^ wyth the same synne, and ys full like to be smytten wyth the same vengeans other ^ with wors; for now the pepull settythe but lytyll by God : for, thagh thay heren prechyng and techyng, they wyli not amende horn, ny* leve her synne. Wherfor God smytythe yn parte now, and woll [smyte] hereaftyr well hardye and sarre^ Wherfor ye schull pray to God to hold up his hond of vengeans that hyt fall not yn our dayes ; but that we may come to amendement and have the blysse that he bo[u]gt us to. To the wheche blysse God brynge you and me, yi hit be hys wyll. Amen. 23 MISSIONARY FRIARS The most vivid account of Franciscan missionary journeys is that of Jordan of Giano, an Italian friar who took a prominent part in the German mission. The best edition of his memoirs is that of Bohmer (Paris, Fischbacher, 1908). Jordan dictated these to a younger brother-friar at Halberstadt, probably within a few months of his own death, in the year 1262. Taking our ideas of the early fervour of the Order from Jordan and from Thomas of Eccleston, we shall be able to mark how far it had decayed in the days of Chaucer and Piers Plowjnan. (c. 3.) In the year of our Lord 12 19, and the 13th year of his conversion. Brother Francis held a general Chapter ^ them. ^ cumbered. ^ or. ^ nor. ^ sorer. 240 Church and Churchmen iv at Sta Maria della Porziuncola, and sent brethren to France, Germany, Hungary, Spain and those provinces of Italy which the brethren had not yet reached. The brethren on the French mission, when asked whether they were Albigenses, answered Yes, not knowing the Albigenses, or that such heretics existed; wherefore they themselves were taken for heretics. But at length the bishops and masters, reading their Rule and seeing that it was evangelic and catholic, consulted pope Honorius on that matter ; who sent letters testifying to the authentic approval of the Holy See for their Rule, and declaring the brethren to be true catholics and special sons of the Roman Church. The German mission was led by brother John of Parma with some 60 or more brethren. When they were come into Germany, not knowing the language, and when men asked whether they desired lodging or meat or any such thing, they answered Ja, and thus received kindly welcome from some folk. Seeing therefore that this word procured them humane treatment, they resolved to answer Ja to all questions whatsoever. Wherefore, being once asked whether they were heretics, come now to infect Germany after the same fashion wherewith they had already perverted Lombardy, they answered Ja\ so that some were cast into prison, and others were stripped of their raiment and led to the common dancing-place, where they were held up for a laughing-stock to the • inhabitants. The brethren therefore, seeing that they could make no fruit in Germany, came home again ; and this deed gave the brethren so cruel a report of Germany, that none dared return thither but such as aspired to martyrdom. The Hungarian mission was brought by sea to that country by a certain bishop of Hungary; and when they began to scatter and go through the land, the shepherds set their dogs upon them and, speaking no word, beat them incessantly with the butts of their spears. When, therefore, the brethren disputed among themselves why they should be thus treated, one said: "Perchance they would have our frocks "; which, therefore, they gave up; yet even so the shepherds ceased not to smite them. So he said, " Perchance they will have our breeches also"; which again they gave; 23 Missmtary Friars 241 whereupon the shepherds ceased to beat them and suffered them to depart unclad. And one of these same brethren told me that he had thus suffered fifteen times.... So, after these and like sufferings, they came back to Italy. Of the brethren sent to Spain, five were crowned with martyrdom. ...But when the martyrdom and life and legend' of these brethren had been brought to St Francis, finding himself commended in that writing, and seeing that the brethren boasted of the passion of these five — being himself a great despi.ser of his own person, and holding all praise and glory in the utmost contempt — he repudiated the legend and forbade that it should be read, saying: "Let every man glory in his own sufferings, and not in other men'.s," So all that first mission was brought to nought. Perchance the time was not yet come, since the wise man saith that to every thing there is a .season under heaven. (c. 16.) So in the year i22i...St Francis celebrated a General Chapter at Sta Maria della Porziuncola,...and the brethren there assembled were reckoned at three thousand.... What tongue could tell the charity, patience, humilit>', obedi- ence and brotherly cheerfulness which reigned at that time among the brethren ? And, albeit the multitude of brethren was so great, yet the people ministered unto us so cheerfully that, after seven days, the brethren were constrained to close their gates against further gifts, and to tarry yet two days in order to consume these offerings. Now, at the end of this Chapter, St Francis bethought him that the Order had not yet been built up in Germany; and, because he was then infirm, brother Elias spake for him whensoever he would have spoken to the people. So St Francis, sitting at the feet of brother Elias, twitched him by the frock; and he, bending down to learn the Saint's will, rose again and said: "Brethren, thus saith the Brother" (that is to say, St Francis, whom the brethren called The Brother by excellence). " There is " (he said) "a certain land called Germany, wherein dwell Christian and devout folk who, as ye know, often traverse our land with ^ The lege7ida of a medieval saint was a brief account of his life, divided into chapters for liturgical recitation. C. 16 242 CJmi'ch and Chu7'chnie7i iv long staves and wide boots\ singing praises to God and His saints, visiting the Holy Places in the heat of the sun and the sweat of their brow. And, seeing that the brethren once sent thither were evil intreated and came home again, therefore the Brother would constrain no man to go thither; but if any man, inspired with zeal for God and men's souls, will now go thither, the Brother will give him the same commission — nay, an ampler commission still — than to those who go beyond the sea. Wherefore, if there be any willing to go, let them now^ arise and stand apart." Then some ninety brethren, inflamed with love, offered themselves for death ; and, departing from the rest according to the Saint's bidding, they waited until it should be ordered who and how many and how and when they were to go. Now there was a certain brother present at that Chapter who was accustomed in his prayers to beseech the Lord that his faith might not be corrupted by the Lombard heretics or shaken by the ferocity of the Germans ; but rather that God of His mercy would deign to deliver him from both. He, seeing many brethren arise and show their readiness for the German mission, and thinking that they would soon be martyred there, and grieving that he knew not the names of those brethren who had been martyred on the Spanish mission, was resolved to order things better in this case. Arising, therefore, from the throng, he went to these 'ninety, and asked of them one by one : " Who and whence art thou ? " for he thought it would redound much to his glory if they chanced to be martyred, and he could say : " I knew that man, and I knew that other." But among this company was a certain brother named Palmerio, a deacon, who was afterwards warden of the friary at Magdeburg ; a jocund and sportive man, from Monte Gargano in Apulia. So when that curious brother had come to Palmerio asking : " Who art thou, and what is thy name?" then he answered "My name is Palmerio"; and, laying hands on him, he added : " Thou too art of us and shalt go in our company," wishing to take this brother with him among those very Germans of whom he had oftentimes 1 ocreis, boots or gaiters : medieval writers use the word in both senses. 23 Missionary Fi'iars 24 besought the Lord that He might send him whithersoever He would, so that it were not to Germany. Now therefore, shuddering at that name Germans, he made answer : " I am not of your company ; but I came hither desiring to know your names, not to go with you." But the other, over- mastering him in his jocund way, clave fast unto him and drew him to the ground, for all his resistance in word and in deed, and constrained him to sit down among the rest ; and meanwhile, while this curious brother was thus held captive there, he was assigned to another province and proclamation was made : " Let such a brother go to such and such a pro- vince." But while these ninety were awaiting their answer, brother Caesarius the German, of Speyer, was chosen Minister Provincial of Germany, with power to choose whom he would from that company. He, finding this curious brother among the rest, was counselled by them to take him. And, seeing that he desired not to go thither, and ceased not to protest, saying : " I am not of your company, for I arose not with the purpose of going with you," he was led to brother Elias. And the brethren of the province whereunto he had been assigned, seeing that he was a weakly man and that the land of Germany is cold, strove to retain him; whereas brother Caesarius sought by all means to take him. At last brother Elias cut short this strife, saying : " I command thee, brother, by holy obedience, to resolve once for all whether thou wilt go or leave it." He therefore, thus constrained by obedience, and still doubting what to do, feared to choose for conscience sake, lest in so choosing he should seem self-willed ; for he feared the journey on account of the cruelty of the Germans, lest his patience should fail him for suffering and his soul be in mortal peril. Halting thus between two opinions, and finding no counsel in his own heart, he went to that sorely tried brother who (as we have said) had suffered fifteen times in Hungary, and besought his advice, saying : " Dearest brother, thus and thus hath it been commanded to me, and I fear to choose and know not what to do." To whom the other made answer : " Go then to brother Elias and say : ' Brother, I am unwilling either to go or to stay ; but I will do whatsoever 16 — 2 244 CI Lurch and Churchmen iv thou shalt bid me ' : truly thus shalt thou be freed from thy perplexity." Thus then he did, and brother Elias commanded him by holy obedience to go with brother Caesarius to Ger- many. And he is that brother Jordan of Giano who writeth these present words ; thus it was that he went to Germany ; but he escaped from that fury of the Germans which he had feared, and was among the first to plant the Order of Friars Minor in that land, with brother Caesarius and other brethren. (c. 21.) So brother Caesarius, calling together his brethren at Trent, and admonishing them to keep all humility and patience, sent them before him to Bozen by twos and threes, setting one over temporal things and another over the spiritual. Then the lord Bishop of Trent entertained the brethren for a few days as they came in succession, and licensed them to preach in his diocese. Then they passed from Bozen to Brixen, where they were kindly received by the bishop. From Brixen they entered upon the mountain ways, and came after men's dinner-time to Sterzing. Seeing, therefore, that the men had no bread at hand, and the brethren knew not how to beg [in German], hoping still that by eventide they would come to some place where men would have pity and refresh them, they came to Mittenwald^ Here, in great want, they assuaged, or rather provoked, their gnawing hunger and their thirst with two mouthfuls of bread and seven turnips, yet with a joyful heart ; and, having taken counsel among themselves how they should so fill their empty bellies as to sleep after this day's journey of seven [German] miles, they resolved to drink of the pure brook that ran beside the road, lest their empty belly should murmur. At dawn they arose again in hunger and emptiness and went on their way : but they had scarce gone half a mile when their eyes began to grow dim and their legs to fail, and their knees were loosened and their whole body languished with fasting ; wherefore, in the anguish of their hunger, they picked berries and fruit from the thorns and the divers trees or bushes ' Jordan's memory has betrayed him here: Mitten wald comes at a slightly difierent point of the pass. 23 Missionary Friai'S 245 f which they found by the way. Moreover, seeing that it was a Friday, they feared to break their fast ; yet it seemed somewhat to comfort them that they bore these fruits and berries, whereof they might have eaten in extremest need. Thus, therefore, now resting by the road, and now creeping painfully forward, they came to Matrey ; and lo ! God, to whom the poor is abandoned, was solicitous to provide for the needs of His poor servants ; for, as we entered into that town, we met two hospitable men who bought us two penny- worth of bread ; but what was this among so many ? And, for it was the season of turnips, we begged turnips and supplied what was lacking in bread. After which dinner, rather filled than fed, we went on our way ; and thus, passing by villages and towns and monasteries, we came at last to Augsburg. There can be little doubt that Jordan, though he does not name himself, was again the hero of this next episode. The friars were tramping from Salzburg to attend a Provincial Chapter at Worms. (c. 27.) On their way, they entered into a certain village to find food, wherein they begged by two and two from house to house ; but men answered them in the German tongue : " God berad ! " which is being interpreted " May God provide for }-ou^ !" One of the brethren, seeing that with these words nothing was given to them, thought within himself, " This God berad will slay us to-day ! " Wherefore he ran before the brother who was wont to beg daily, and began to beg in the Latin tongue. Then answered the Germans, " We under- stand no Latin ; speak to us in German." So that brother, speaking corruptly, said, " Nich tiudisch " (which is to say, " No German," the words / kno7v being understood). And he added in German : " Bread, for God ! " Then said they, " Ha ! thou sayest in German that thou knowest no German," • and they added, " God berad ! " So that brother, exulting in spirit and smiling and making as though he knew not what 1 Bohmer notes that the Bavarian peasants still say Helf Gott! as a pious formula of refusal. Compare Reliquiae Antiquae, vol. H. p. 74 (The Demaundes Joyous, printed by Wynkyn de Worde) " Q. What people be they that love not in no wise lo be prayed for? — A. They be beggars and poor people, when men say God kelp them, when they ask alms*'; and P. Fiownuin, c. xii. 44. 246 Church and Churchmen IV they said, sate him down upon the bench ; whereupon the man and his wife, looking at each other and smiHng at his importunity, gave him bread, eggs and milk. He, therefore, seeing that by such profitable dissimulation he might relieve not only his own necessities but those of the brethren also, went to twelve houses and begged in like fashion ; whereby he gained enough to feed his seven brethren. We may end with a final specimen of the good friar's pious impor- tunity. He had been sent on a deputation to the Pope to protest against brother EHas's tyranny and violations of the Franciscan Rule. (c. 63.) In the year 1238 the brethren of the province of Saxony... were compelled to appeal to the Pope. So brother Jordan, when he came into the Pope's presence and had saluted him, and had received the command to withdraw, would by no means go forth from the chamber, but rather hastened with jocund face to his Holiness's bed\ and drew forth his naked foot and kissed it, saying, " Lo ! we have no such relics as this in Saxony ! " And, when the lord Pope would still have sent them forth, brother Jordan said : " Nay, my lord, we have no petition for ourselves, for we live in all abundance and glory ; but you are the father and protector and corrector of our Order, therefore are we come to see you." So at last the Pope was merry, and sat up in his bed and asked wherefore they were come. He now went carefully into the question ; and Jordan's deputation finally retired, having succeeded in its main object. 24 THE ENGLISH MISSION Though Thomas of Eccleston lacked himself the extraordinatily engaging personality of Jordan, his chronicle is longer and far more detailed. The reader must use some caution, however, in accepting commentaries on Thomas such as those of Dr Brewer in his intro- duction to Mojiumenta Franciscana^ R. S., 1858, Dr Jessopp in his Coining of the Friars^ and Father Cuthbert in his translation of the Chronicle. Eccleston tells us plainly himself that he looks back on a past heroic age : yet he wrote about 1258. By far the best edition is that of Prof. A. G. Little (1909): but I give here the pagination of the Rolls edition, as the most accessible : my translation is abridged here and there. ^ It was common for kings, nobles and dignitaries lo receive audiences either in or on their beds. 2 3, 2 4 The English Mission 247 (p. 5.) In the year 1224 tlie Friars Minor first landed in England at Dover ; four clerics and five lay-brethren. [Of the four clerics, only two were in Holy Orders.] (p. 71.) These nine were charitably conveyed over to England by the monks of Fecamp, and hospitably provided with all necessaries. At Canterbury, they abode two days at the Cathedral Priory ; then four went forthwith to London, and the other five re- paired to the Priests' Spital, where they abode until they had found an habitation. Soon afterwards a little room was granted unto them within the school-house. Here, from day to day, they sat almost continually enclosed ; but at eventide, when the scholars were gone home, the friars came into their chamber and lit their fire and sat by the hearth. Here, when the time of Collation^ came, they sometimes set on the fire a pot full of beer-dregs, wherein they dipped a bowl and drank all round, each saying some word of edification. And (as one hath borne witness who was of this same pure sim- plicity, and who was found worthy to share and partake in holy poverty) their drink was at times so thick that, when the bowl had to be warmed, they poured water in, and thus drank cheerfully. The like frequently befel them at Sarum, where the brethren so jocundly and joyfully drank their dregs round the kitchen fire at Collation, that each thought himself happy to snatch them in friendly fashion from the other, (p. 8.) It befel also that two brethren came in great distress to one friary, when there was no beer in the house. Then the Warden, taking counsel with the elder brethren, let them borrow a gallon of beer ; yet on such terms that the friars of the house, who were entertaining the guests, should make but a false show of drinking thereof, for charity's sake, (p. 9.) Even in the London friary, I myself have seen the brethren drink beer so sour, that some preferred water ; and I have seen them eat the bread called tonrte in vulgar par- lance". Moreover, when there was no bread, I have for some 1 Collation was a sup of drink and a mouthful of bread before retiring to Led ; from monastic use it passed to the medieval colleges : see H. Rashdall, Universities etc. H. 655, and Section II., no. 20 of this present book : "the potations in Hall at the hour of curfew." 2 A rough whole-meal bread, the roughest kind ordinarily baked ; then came 2 48 Church and Churchmen iv time eaten [porridge of] spelt there, in the presence of the Provincial Minister and the guests. But the four brethren aforesaid, proceeding to London, abode with the Friars Preachers, who received them kindly, and with whom they dwelt fifteen days, eating and drinking of what was set before them as most familiar guests. Then they hired for themselves a house in Cornhill, wherein they built cells, stuffing the partitions with grass. Here they dwelt in their first simplicity until the next summer, without any chapel, for as yet they had no privilege of setting up an altar and celebrating divine service. Here did the sweet Lord Jesus sow that grain of mustard-seed which afterwards became greater than all herbs, (p. lo.) It is worthy of note that, in the thirty-second year from the advent of the Friars Minor to England, the brethren living in the English province were numbered at 1,242, in forty-nine friaries. The first to be received was a youth of great promise, pre-eminent in bodily beauty, brother Solomon. He was wont to tell me that, while he was yet a novice, the care of the temporal things was committed unto him, and he went to beg alms at his sister's house. She, bringing him a loaf, turned away her face, and said " Cursed be the hour that I ever set eyes on thee!" but he took the bread cheerfully and went his way. He kept so strictl)- to the prescribed form of extreme poverty, that he sometimes suffered so from cold as to seem on the point of death ; and the brethren, having no other means of warming him, were inspired by holy charity to excogitate a pious subtlety ; for they all gathered together and warmed him by pressing him to their bosom, as her litter lieth about a sow. [One day] the brethren ate at the table of the Archbishop and came home barefoot to the Canterbury friary, through snow so deep that all who saw it shuddered to see them go. After this [brother Solomon] was taken with an infirmity of one foot, whereof he lay sick in London for two years, so that he could scarce move from place to place but if another would bear him. In this infirmity he bis, then ivhite, and then fancy breads such as simnel, nmnchel., etc. See Riley, Mcrnoiiah of London, p. ()\\. 2 4, 2 5 The English Mission 249 was honoured with a visit from brother Jordan of holy memory, Master of the whole Order of Friars Preachers, who said unto him : " Brother, be not ashamed if the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ draw thee to Himself by one foot." When therefore he had thus lain a long while in the cellar, where he had not been able to hear mass (for the brethren sang no mass in the friary, but went to hear divine service and to sing their masses in the parish church), then his in- firmity became so desperate that, as the surgeons judged, his foot must needs be cut off But, when the axe was brought, and the foot had been bared, a little blood and matter came forth, which promised some hope ; wherefore that hard judg- ment was deferred for a while. Meanwhile he conceived a certain hope that, if he were led to some saint, he might recover his foot and his health. Wherefore, when brother Agnello [the Provincial minister] came, he bade that brother Solomon should be taken to some shrine beyond the sea with- out delay, and as conveniently as might be. It came to pass, then, that his faith belied him not ; nay rather, he waxed so strong as to walk without crutch, and to celebrate mass, (p. 17.) At Cambridge the Brethren were received first by the burghers of the town, who granted unto them the Old Synagogue, hard by the Castle. But, seeing that the neigh- bourhood of the prison was intolerable to them (for the gaolers and the brethren had but one door of entrance) the king gave them ten marks wherewith to buy a rent which should satisfy his exchequer for the rent of their site ; and thus the brethren built a chapel so miserably poor, that a single carpenter in one day made and set up 14 pairs of rafters. 25 CHAUCER'S FRIAR There is overwhelming evidence to show that all thoughtful people, orthodox or unorthodox, recognized clearly the decadence of the mendi- cant orders before the end of the fourteenth century. The following two extracts from Piers Plowman do but put into picturesque language an indictment which can be substantiated from the most unimpeachable business records. A third long passage at the very end of the book is still more unfavourable (B, XX. 211 tf.). 250 Church and Churchmen iv (rt) B, HI. 35, p. 64. Thanne come there a confessoure coped as a frere, To Mede' the mayde he mellud'^ this wordes, And seide ful softly, in shrifte as it were, " Theigh* levved^ men and lered' men had leyne by the* bothe, And falsenesse haved yfolwed the al this fyfty wyntre, I shal assoille' the my-selve for a seme* of whete, And also be thi bedeman^ and bere vvel thi message Amonges knightes and clerkis, conscience to torne." Thanne Mede for here mysdedes to that man kneled, And shrove hire of hire shrewednesse"*, shamelees, I trowe, Tolde hym a tale and toke hym a noble", Forto ben hire bedeman and hire brokour als[o]. Thanne he assoilled hir sone", and sithen^^ he seyde, "We han a wyndovve a wirchyng wil sitten us ful heigh^*: Woldestow glase that gable and grave there-inne thi name, Siker^^ sholde thi soule be hevene to have." {b) B, XV. 148 fif. " I have lyved in londe^V' quod I, " my name is Longe Wille, And fonde I nevere ful charite bifore ne bihynde!"... " Charite," quod he, " ne chaffareth noughte, ne chalengeth, ne craveth. As proude of a peny as of a pounde of golde, And is as gladde of a goune of> a graye russet As of a tunicle of Tarse" or of trye^® scarlet. He is gladde with alle gladde, and good tyl^® alle wykked. And leveth^ and loveth alle that owre lorde made, Curseth he no creature, ne he can bere no wratthe, Ne no lykynge hath to lye ne laughe men to scorne, Al that men seith, he let it soth^i and in solace taketh, And alle manere meschiefs in myldenesse he suffreth ; Coveiteth he none erthly good but hevene-riche blisse*^." ^ The personification of Ill-gotten Gain. '■' spoke. ^ though. * ignorant. ^ learned. " thee. '' absolve. •* horseload. ' one who prays for hire. '" wickedness. " 6j. ^d. " soon. ^^ then. '■' a window is being made in our church that will cost us a very high price, i'^ certain. >" land. ^^ Cliina silk. i« choice. 's to. ^^ believeih. ^' he allows the truth of all that men say. "^'^ the bliss of heaven. 25,26 Chaucer s Friar 251 " Hath he any rentes or ricchesse or any riche frendes ? " "Of rentes ne of ricchesse ne reccheth he nevere."... For he ne is noughte in lolleres ne in lande-leperes' her- mytes,... For charyte is goddis champioun, and as a good chylde hende*, And the meryest of mouth at mete where he sitteth. The love that lith in his herte maketh hym lyghte of speche, And [he] is companable and confortatyf, as Cryst bit^ h}'m- selve, Nolite fieri siait ypocrite, iristes, &c. (Matt. vi. 16), For I have seyn hym in sylke, and somme tyme in russet, Bothe in grey and in grys* and in gulte herneys^ And as gladlich he it gaf to gomes® that it neded.... I have seyne Charite also syngen and reden, Ryden and rennen^ in ragged wedes, Ac biddyng* as beggeres bihelde I hym nevere.... And in a freres frokke he was yfounde ones, Ac it is ferre agoo, in seynt Fraunceys tyme ; In that secte sitthe to selde[n] hath he be[n] knowen. 26 A PILGRIMAGE SHRINE St Mary of Walsingham, in Norfolk, was one of the most popular of medieval pilgrimage-places for English folk. Erasmus, in the form of a dialogue between Ogygius (himself) and Menedemus, describes his own visit to the place some time before the summer of 15 14, when he left England. Erasmus's friend Aldridge, who accompanied him to Walsing- ham, was then a Cambridge student, and soon afterwards became Master of Eton College. The Colloquies, from which this description is taken, were begun in 1518. The translation therefrom is that of N. Bailey, 1733. (Ed. 1877, pp. 241 ff. : Colloquy no. ^y.) Me. But what wind carried you to England ? Og. A very favourable wind, and I had made half a promise to the beyond-sea she-saint [our Lady of Walsingham] to pay her another visit within two or three years. Me. What did you ■■ vagabond. * courteous. * bade. ■* grey squirrel-fur. * gilded armour. *" men. ^ run. ** but begging. ^52 Church and Churchmen iv o-o to ask for of her ? Og. Nothing new but those common matters, the health of my family, the increase of my fortune, a lon«- and a happy life in this world, and eternal happiness in the next. Me. But could not our Virgin Mary have done as much for you here ? She has at Antwerp a temple much more magnificent than that beyond sea. Og. I will not deny that she is able, but one thing is bestowed in one place and another thing in another ; whether this be her pleasure merely, or whether she, being of a kind disposition, accommodates herself in this to our affections. Me. I have often heard of James, but, prithee, give me some account of that beyond-sea lady. Qo-. I will do it as briefly as I can. Her name is very famous all over England, and you shall scarce find anybody in that island who thinks his affairs can be prosperous unless he every year makes some present to that lady, greater or smaller, according as his circumstances are in the world. Me. Where- abouts does she dwell ? Og. Near the coast, upon the furthest part between the west and the north, about three miles from the sea ; it is a town that depends chiefly upon the resort of strangers. There is a college of Canons Regular there,... This college has little else to maintain it but the liberality of the Virgin, for all presents of value are laid up ; but as for any- thing of money or lesser value, that goes to the support of the flock and the head of it, which they call the prior. Me. Are they men of good lives ? Og. Not much amiss. They are richer in piety than in revenue. There is a clever neat church, but the Virgin does not dwell in it herself, but upon point of honour has given it to her Son. Her church is on the right hand of her Son's.... And she does not dwell there neither, for the building is not finished ; the doors and windows are all open, and the wind blows through it ; and not far off is a place where Oceanus the father of the winds resides. Me. That is a hard case; where does she dwell then? Og. In that un- finished church that I spoke of, there is a little boarded chapel with a little door on each side to receive visitors. There is but little light to it but what comes from the tapers ; but the scent is very grateful. Me. All these things conduce to religion. (9<^. Nay, Menedemus, if you saw the inside of it you would 26 A Pilgrimage Shrine 253 say it was the seat of the saints, it is all so glittering with jewels, gold, and silver.... At the north side there is a certain gate, not of a church, don't mistake me, but of the wall that encloses the church- yard, that has a very little wicket, as in the great gates of noblemen, that he that has a mind to get in must first venture the breaking of his shins and afterwards stoop his head too. Me. In truth, it would not be safe for a man to enter in at such a little door. Og. You are in the right of it. But yet the verger told me that some time since a knight on horseback, having escaped out of the hands of his enemy, who followed him at the heels, got in through this wicket. The poor man at the last pinch, by a sudden turn of thought, recommended himself to the holy Virgin that was the nearest to him, for he resolved to take sanctuary at her altar, if the gate had been open. When, behold, which is such a thing as was never heard of, both man and horse were on a sudden taken into the churchyard and his enemy left on the outside of it stark mad at his disappointment. Me. And did he give you reason to believe so wonderful a relation? Og. Without doubt. Me. That was no easy matter to a man of your philosophy. Og. He shewed me a plate of copper nailed on the door, that had the very image of this knight that was thus saved, and in the very habit which was then in fashion among the English, which is the same we see in old pictures, which, if they are drawn truly, the barbers and dyers and weavers in those days had but a bad time of it. Me. Why so? Og. Why, he had a beard like a goat, and there was not a wrinkle in any of his clothes — they were made so strait to his body that the very straitness of them made his body the more slender. There was also another plate that was an exact description of the chapel and the size of it. Me. Then there was no doubt to be made of it. Og. Under the little wicket there was an iron gate, no bigger than what a man on foot could just get in at ; for it was not fit that any horse afterwards should tread upon that place which the former knight had consecrated to the Virgin. Me. And ver}- good reason. 2 54 Church and Churchnien iv Og. From hence towards the east, there is another chapel full of wonders ; thither I went. Another verger received me. There we prayed a little ; and there was shewn us the middle joint of a man's finger, I kissed it, and asked whose relic it was ? He told me it was St Peter's. What, said I, the Apostle ? He said it was. I then took notice of the bigness of the joint, which was large enough to be taken for that of a giant. Upon which, said I, Peter must needs have been a very lusty man. At this, one of the company fell a laughing. I was very much vexed at it, for if he had held his tongue the verger would have shewn us all the relics. However we pacified him pretty well, by giving him a few groats. Before this little chapel stood a house, which he told us, in the winter time, when all things were buried in snow, was brought there on a sudden from some place a great way off. Under this house there were two pits brimful, that were fed by a fountain consecrated to the holy Virgin. The water was wonderful cold, and of great virtue in curing pains in the head and stomach. Me. If cold water will cure pains in the head and stomach, in time oil will quench fire. Og. But, my good friend, you are hearing that which is miraculous ; for what miracle is there in cold water quenching thirst ? Me. That shift goes a great way in this story. Og. It was positively affirmed that this spring burst out of the ground at the com- mand of the holy Virgin. I, observing everything very diligently, asked him how many years it was since that little house was brought thither? He said it had been there for some ages. But, said I, me- thinks the walls don't seem to carry any marks of antiquity in them. He did not much deny it. Nor the pillars, said I. He did not deny but those had been set up lately ; and the thing shewed itself plainly. Then, said I, that straw and reeds, the whole thatch of it seems not to have been so long laid. He allowed it. Nor do these cross beams and rafters that bear up the roof seem to have been laid many years ago. He confessed they were not. And there being no part of that cottage remaining, said I to him. How then does it appear that this is the very cottage that was brought so far through 26 A Pilgrimage Shrine 255 the air ? Me. Prithee, how did the sexton extricate himself out of this difficulty ? Og. He presently shewed us an old bear's skin tacked there to a piece of timber, and almost laughed at us to our ver)- faces for not having eyes to perceive a thing that was so plain. Therefore, seeming to be satisfied, and excusing our dulness of apprehension, we turned ourselves to the heavenly milk of the blessed Virgin.... That milk is kept upon the high altar in which Christ is in the middle, and his mother, for respect sake, at his right hand; for the milk represents the mother. Me. Why, is it plain to be seen then .? Og. It is preserved in a crystal glass. Me. Is it liquid then } Og. What do you talk of being liquid, when it has been put in above 1 500 years ago ? It is so concreted, you would take it for beaten chalk tempered with the white of an ^giwf:ensium, 1693, vol. I. col., 483 (dancing mania). Like other similar extremes, they were comparatively infrequent in England. Robert of Avesbury, Historia Edwardi Tcriii, ed. Hearne, 1720, p. 179- Of the Public Penitents. In this same year [of the Plague] 1349, about Michaelmas, more than six score men came through Flanders to London, mostly from Zealand and Holland. These scourged themselves twice a day in the sight of the people, some in St Paul's cathedral and others in other parts of the city ; and this was the manner of their penance. From the waist to the heels they were wrapped in linen cloth, leaving all the rest of their body naked ; each wore on his head a cap marked before and behind with a red cross ; each in his right hand bare a scourge with three lashes, and in each lash one knot, from the midst whereof stood out hither and thither sharp points like needles. Thus then, in the midst of the procession, these penitents followed one after the other, barefooted, lashing their bare and bleeding bodies with these scourges aforesaid, while four of them sang a chant in their own tongue, to which four others answered at the end, after the fashion of a Christian Litany. Then, in this procession, all together fell thrice to the ground, where they lay with hands outstretched in the form of a cross, chanting all the while as before; and at last each of these prostrate penitents, stepping over his fellow, smote him with the scourge there as he lay ; and thus from one to the other, from the first even unto the last ; after which each clad himself in his daily garb, and, with their caps still on their heads, they returned to their lodgings. And this same penance, it is said, they repeated every night also. 17- 26o Church and Chm^chnien iv 28 SIDESMEN'S REPORTS At episcopal, archidiaconal (and possibly ruridecanal) visitations it was required that " sidesmen " {synods-men) should appear from each parish to testify. Very few of such testimonies have been preserved ; the following, which go into more intimate detail than any others, are translated from the register of Bp Stapeldon of P^xeter, in the order in which they are entered by the editor (F. C. Hingeslon-Randolph, 1892). The visi- tation took place in 1301. (p. 107.) Clyst Honiton. They say that their parish priest is of honest Hfe and good conversation, and hath been there 22 years, honestly fulfilling his priestly office in all that per- taineth to a parish priest ; but he is now broken with age and insufficient for the cure of the parish. (p. III.) Colyton. They say that sir Robert [Blond], their Vicar, is an honest man and preacheth to them as best he can \jquatenus novit\ but not sufficiently, as they thinks They say also that his predecessors were wont to call in the Friars to instruct them for the salvation of their souls ; but this Vicar careth not for them, and, if by chance they come, he receiveth them not and giveth them no help on their way ; wherefore they beseech that he may be reprimanded. (p. 130.) Cuhnstock. They say that William their Vicar is a man of good life and honest conversation, as also is his Clerk ; and he teacheth his parishioners well in the visitation of the sick and the baptism of infants, and in all those things pertaining to his office, except that, as it seems to them, he tarrieth too long between Matins and Mass on feast-days ; they know naught else to reprehend in him. (p. 133.) Dawlish. They say that the Vicar, whom they hold for a good man, resideth not personally, but hath in his place sir Adam, a Chaplain, who beareth himself well and honestly and teacheth them excellently in spiritual things. 1 The ignorance of the parish clergy was often astounding ; a good many records of their examinations are translated in A Medieval Garner, pp. 270-9. Roger Bacon puts it only a little more brutally than his contemporaries Thomas Aquinas and Bonaventura when he writes "just as boys gabble through the psalter which they have learnt ; and as clerks and country priests recite the church services (of which tliey understand little or nothing) like brute beasts" {0pp. Ined.^ R. S., P- 4 '3)- 28 Sidesmen s Reports 261 But Randolph the Chaplain hath kept his concubine for ten years or more; and, though often rebuked, he persisteth in- corrigibly. The parish clerk is continent and honest. (p. 170.) Ashburton. They say that the Vicar beareth himself well and honestly in spiritual matters, and they know- naught of mortal and hidden sin^ (p. 194.) Bra7iscombe. They say that Thomas, their Vicar, beareth himself well in all things and preacheth willingly, and visiteth the sick, and doth diligently all that pertaineth to his priestly office. Of the clerk and the other parishioners they know naught but what is good and honest. (p. 296.) Chapel of Norton, in Newton St Cyres. The jurors say that, in the time of Master William de Staneweye, who formerly held this chapelry to farm-, the Rector of Newton was wont to find a Chaplain who, every Sunday, was ac- customed to read the Gospel to the parishioners of the chapelry of Norton, to sprinkle holy water, and to distribute hoh' bread '^j to sing Mass each Wednesday and Friday, and to celebrate a full service for them at Christmas and Easter ; and to hear their confessions in Lent and likewise baptize their children ; but in the last days of the aforesaid William all these things aforesaid were withdrawn, until the time of the present farmer, who hath restored all except that the Gospel is not read to them, nor have they, holy bread or water as of old ; in which matter they beg for succour. (p- 337-) ^t Mary Church. The parishioners say that, until the days of the present Vicar, they were wont to main- tain the Chancel in all things and to be immune from paying tithe for the restoration of the church ; but the present Vicar, though he maintaincth not the Chancel, yet receiveth the tithe and compelleth them to pay. Item, they say that Agnes ^ The sidesmen were bound to testify as to the morals not only of the clergy but also of the parishioners. 2 A church or chapelry might not be farmed out to a layman, but they were frequently farmed out to clerics : e.g. the monks of Norwich Cathedral thus let out their appropriated churches in the city. 3 Paiiem binedictum, the Enlogia of the Greek Church and the Pain Binit of the modern French church: see D. Rock, Church oj our Fathers, 1905, vol. i. p. no and vol. iv. p. 214. 262 Chuj'ch and Churchmefi iv Bonatrix left five shillings in pollard coin^ for the upkeep of St Mary's church, which the Vicar hath received and detains. Item, Master Roger le Rous left a certain sum of money to the same end, which the said Vicar is said to have received in part. Item, they say that the Vicar feedeth his beasts of all kinds in the churchyard, by whom it is evilly trodden down and vilely defouled. Item, the said Vicar taketh to the use of his own buildings the trees blown down in the churchyard. Item, he causeth his malt to be malted in the church, wherein he storeth his wheat and other goods; whereby his servants go in and out and leave the door open, and the wind blowing into the church at time of tempests is wont to un- cover the roof. They say moreover that he preacheth well and exerciseth his office laudably in all things, when he is present. But oftentimes he departeth to abide at Moreton-Hampstead, now for a fortnight and now for a week, so that they have then no Chaplain, except when sir Walter, the Archdeacon's Chaplain, is present, or some other casual Chaplain is pro- cured. [It is also presented that the church is in bad repair, one of the 3 dependent chapels is in ruins, and the other 2 are dilapidated.] (p. 345.) Salcombe-Regis. The parishioners say that Robert, the Vicar, doeth competently all things that concern divine service. On the other points they make no deposition, be- cause, as they say, they know notliing. (p. 368.) Sidbitry. They say that Walter the Vicar beareth himself excellently in all things, preaching well and laudably exercising his priestly office. The Clerks also bear themselves honestly. Of mortal sin they know nothing. (p. 378.) Staverton. They say that sir Walter, the Vicar, beareth himself well and honestly, and teacheth them ex- cellently in spiritual things ; nor is there, as they assert, any defect in him. Of hidden mortal sin they know naught. And his Vicarage, as they assert, is worth ten marks. ^ So it seems necessary to interpret the v% haUardorH7n of tlie text. In 1300 tht poliafd was to pass for half its face value (Riley, Memorials of London, p. 42); and Walsingham under the year 1301 records the difficulties arising from the circulation of this coin. Cf. also Rogers, Hist. Agric. and Prices, i. 178. 28, 29 Sidesmen's Reports 26 a (p. 380.) Stokc-Canon. The parishioners say that William, Chaplain of this place, beareth himself honestly, and all is well in spiritual things, as their understanding goeth {lit in- let tig unt). (p. 388.) TJiorverton \ . [No report on spiritual matters ; (P- 397-^ Upottery \ considerable dilapidations in (p. 409.) Winfcteigti J Churches, etc.] 29 RELIGIOUS EDUCATION {a) "All is well in spiritual things, as their understanding goeth " is a lifelike phrase which admits of further comment. The following passage from the autobiography of a most orthodox and hard-working visitor in N. Germany, which is perhaps unique of its kind, throws a vivid light on the patriarchal relations between clergy and people in a good parish. It is translated from Johann Busch, Liber Reformationis Monasterioruvi, ed. Grube, p. 441. Busch found himself saddled with the archidiaconate of Halle ; at his first synod he found startling ignorances among the clergy, but he inserts this episode as a counterpoise. I asked one sidesman, a peasant-farmer, " Have all your fellow-parishioners kept the commands of God and Holy Church ? " He answered, " I know not to the contrary." " And are all in your village faithful and good Christians, keeping holy-days, not witches or suchlike folk .' " He answered, "Yes." Then said I, " If thou be a good Christian, then say the Lord's Prayer and Ave Maria in German." Whereupon, in the hearing of all, he repeated them in good German. Then said I, "Now repeat the Creed"; and he repeated it fully and quite clearly in good German. So I said to him, "You believe that God will judge the quick and the dead. At that last judgment will all be dead, or all alive ? " "I know not," said he ; " but this I know, that God will then judge the quick and the dead."... Then I continued, " You have said that you believe the resurrection of the flesh. You seem to be forty or fifty years old. Your father, grand- father, and great grandfather are dead, and so are all that have gone before them.. ..If their graves were opened, nothing would be found but perhaps a bit of a rib or of a skull or of some other bone ; for all the rest is fallen to dust. Do you believe that all these dead folk... will get again the same 264 Church and Churchmen iv bodies and limbs which they had while living on this earth... down to the very skin and hair ? " He answered, " I believe that God is almighty ; if He wishes it, He will certainly do it ; and I believe He does wish it." Lastly I said, " How long is eternal life ? is it as long as a hundred years ? " To which he replied, " What sayest thou ? It is longer than a good hundred thousand years." Then said I, " Thou hast spoken very well ; I give thee leave to depart." The Biirger- meister of Halle, and many others who stood by, said then, " If Father Busch had questioned us so closely, we could not have answered him so exactly" {tarn formaliter). I asked at dinner-time (for all we priests dined together with the priest of St Mary's at Halle), " How did that farmer know how to answer so exactly?" And they told me that the priest of that parish forbade their suffering any man to dine or make merry with them at the tavern, until he had first said his Pater, Ave, and Creed ; " wherefore," said they, " they speak to each other of these things, and have got so perfect a memory and understanding thereof." {b) The other side of this subject is shown by a series of synodal decrees of the Church, in all countries. That of Abp Peckham, in 1281, formed a model for other English archbishops and bishops, who repeat his pleas, sometimes almost textually, all down the Middle Ages. It has been argued by some modern apologists that these decrees constitute a proof of pastoral care on the part of the medieval Church ; but these writers omit the two tell-tale opening sentences. D. Wilkins, Concilia, vol. II. (1737), P- 54, "Of the Instruction of the Simple." The ignorance of priests casteth the people into the ditch of error; and the folly or unlearnedness of the clergy, who are bidden to teach the faithful concerning the Catholic Faith, doth sometimes tend rather to error than to sound doctrine. For some blind clergy do not always visit those places which are known to need most the light of truth, as saith the Prophet : " The little ones have asked for bread, and there was none to break it unto them " ; and as another Prophet crieth : " The needy and the poor seek for waters, and there are none ; their tongue hath been dry with thirst " (Lam. iv. 4; Is. xli. 17). Wherefore, in remedy of these 29, 30 Religious Education 265 dangers, We decree that every priest having charge of a flock do, four times in each year, that is, once in each quarter, on one or more solemn days, either personally or by deputy, expound to the people in the vulgar tongue, without any fantastic texture of subtlety, the fourteen articles of the Faith, the Ten Commandments, the two Evangelical Precepts of charity ; the Seven Works of mercy ; the Seven Deadly Sins, with their progeny^ ; the Seven Chief Virtues; and the Seven Sacraments of Grace, And, lest any should excuse himself from these duties on the plea of ignorance (albeit all ministers of the Church are bound to know these things), we expound them here in a brief sum- mary. Here follows the summary, occupying two folio pages : the similar summary published by Bp Quivil for Exeter diocese runs to eight pages. Compare Latimer's words at the end of his Sermon at Stamford (Parker Soc, 1844, p. 307): " Mar\'el not that I use at the sermon's end to make prayer, for I do it not of singularity ; but when I am at home, and in the country where I go, sometime poor people come and ask at me, I appose them myself, or cause my servant to appose, of the Lord's prayer ; and they answer, some, ' I can say my Latin Paternoster' ; some, ' I can say the old Pater npster, but not the new.' Therefore [that] all that cannot say it may learn, I use before the sermon and after to say it. Wherefore now I beseech you, let us say it together : Our Father, which art," etc. 30 CHURCH MUSIC ia) From Bp Percy's notes to the Northumberland Houshold Book, 1770, p. 445. There is a passage in an old Play, entitled " ®|)e InterlulJE of t{)£ four lElcmentS," written about the beginning of Henry the VHIth's reign, which shews what high regard was anciently paid to Church Music. Humanity says, '* ^Btnfe=song map not be tiispiiseU, jpor tbmtotti) (GotJ is tnell plesgli, 1 Chaucer's Parson's Tale is a free translation from one of these manuals on the Seven Deadly Sins. 266 Chu7'ch and Churchmen iv l^onotortiJ, pragsijti, anD strbpb In ti)c (a^fjurcf) oft tpmes among." Ygnoraunce answers, **5s 6roli totll pleasglr, trotost tijou, t|)£rlii}? ^ap, nag, for tfierc is no reason tobg: jpor is it not as gootj to sag plagnlg Gyf vie a spade ? ^S Gyf me a spa, ve, va, ve, va, vade? ^ut gf ti)ou haglt tabe a song t|)at is gotre, 5 f)abe one of l^obin |^otie ®i)t test t$at eber teas mabe." {b) An Alphabet of Talcs, E.E.T.S., 1904, p. 85 (Tale cxx.). Jacobus de Vetriaco tellis how that ther was a preste that trowid he was a passand gude synger, not-with-stondyng he was not so. So on a day ther was a gentyl-womman that satt behynd hym and hard hym syng, and sho began to wepe ; and he, trowyng that sho wepid for swettnes of his voyse, began to syng lowder than he did tofor; and ay the hyer sho h[e]ard hyip syng, the faster wepud sho. Than this preste askid hur whi sho wepud so as sho did, and sho ansswerd hym aga)'n and sayd ; " Sur, I am a pure gentill-womman, and the laste day I had no calfe bod' one ; and the wulfe come and had it away fro me; and evur when that I here you syng, onone^ I remembre me how that my calfe and ye cried [a]like." And when the preste hard this, onone he thoght shame, and remembred hym that that thing [th]at he thoght was grete lovyng unto God, was unto Him grete shame and velany ; and fro thens furth he sang nevur so lowde. 31 EXCOMMUNICATION Ibid. p. 215 (Tale cccxii.). Jacobus de Vetriaco telh's how som tyme in the bisshopprik of Lincoln ther was a smyth, and he dispysyd the sentens of the kurk ; and thai cursid hym. So on a day he satt at meatt with other folk, and ther come in-to the howse unto thaim a ' but. ^ anon. 30-33 ExconDminicaiion 267 swyne of Saynt Antons^ And he tuke bread and keste unto it, and said ; " Now sail itt appere whether this Anton swyne will eatt of my bread that am cursyd, or nay." And the swyne smellid the bread and wolde not eate it. And than he bad one of his felous take the same bread and giff it ; and so he did, and yitt it wold not tuche it. And the toder'' that satt aboute gaff it of ther bread, and onone the swyne eate itt. 32 A FALSE VOW Ibid. 1905, p. 521 (Tale dcclxxxii.). We rede in " Libro de Dono Timoris " how som tyme ther was a man that had bothe a cow and a calfe unto the mownte of Saynte Michaell, betwix the bowndis of Bretayn and Normondie, [th]at he mot esskape the flowyng of the see that umwhile' occupied that way. And the flude come on hym and he cried of Saynt Michall and sayd ; "O thou blissid Michaell, delyver me and I sail gyff the this calve." xA.nd when he was delyverid he sayd; "Saynt Michell was bod* a fule that trowed at I wolde hafe gyffyn h)-m my calfe." So afterward hym happend to be taken with the same flude. And than he cryd of Saynt Michaell and prayed hym delyver hym and he sulde gyff hym bothe the cow and the calfe. So he was delyverd and sayd as he did befor. So the iij time he went thedur [to] feche home this cow and this calfe, and sodanlie as he come hamwerd, the se-flude umlappid bothe hym and the cow and the calfe, and drownyd thaim all thre, and that onone ^ 33 DEGREES IN BLASPHEMY Ibid. p. 83 (Tale CXVIII.). Cesarius tellis how on a tyme ij men played at the dyce, and when the tane« of thaim began to lose, he began to wax wrathe with the toder and speke grete wurdis, and ravie and flite' with God for that he wan nott. And the toder, when he 1 The hospital of St-Antoine in Dauphine had branches all over Europe. The swine belonging to these hospitals were privileged ; distinguished by bells round their necks, they roamed the streets when other swine were forbidden : cf. H. T. Riley, Memorials of London, 1868, p. 83. "^ other. 8 sometimes. ■» but. ' anon. " one. ^ quarrel. 268 Church and Church?nen iv hard hym flite with God and speke grete wurdis, flate with hym agayn and bad hym hold his tong ; and he wold not, bod evur when he loste, blasfemyd owder* God or our Ladie. So, as thai satt threpand- thus, thaim thoght thai hard a voyce above thaim that sayd ; " I hafe suffred hedur-toward^ injurie and wrong to be done unto my selfe, bod I will nor may not suffre no langer the injurie and wrong done unto my moder." And onone* this [blasphemer], as he lenyd opon the tabels, was sodanlie strekyn with a wown-' that all men myght se, and bafid" att his mouthe and swelter 34 FAITH AND REASON We have seen that Fellows and Scholars of King's College, Cambridge, were kept in orthodoxy by a statutory oath to abjure the errors not only of Wyclif, but also of Bp Reginald Pecock, who claimed stoutly to be a true Catholic. Pecock was born in Wales, became fellow of Oriel in 1417, attracted the notice of Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, became Bp of St Asaph in 1444 and of Chichester in 1450. About 1449 he had published his Repressor, an elaborate criticism of the Lollards' position in the light of reason and history, as Pecock understood them. In this book he made concessions to reason which stirred the wrath of the orthodox clergy. While the storm gathered, he was writing his still more liberal Treatise on Faith. He was publicly accused in the Council of Westminster towards the end of 1457, subjected to frequent examin- ations by a commission of enquiry, and finally bidden to choose between recantation and the stake. "Pecock" (writes Babington in his Preface to the Repressor, R. S , i860, p. xlvi) "stood for a few moments in motion- less silence, not knowing what to answer. He then replied as follows : ' I am in a strait betwixt two, and hesitate in despair as to what I shall choose. If I defend my opinions and positions, I must be burned to death : if I do not, I shall be a byword and a reproach. Yet it is better to incur the taunts of the people, than to forsake the law of faith and to depart after death into hell-fire and the place of torment. I choose, therefore, to make an abjuration, and intend for the future so to live that no suspicion shall arise against me all the days of my life.' He then and there made, as a preliminary to his abjuration, a confession in presence of the archbishop and the assembly, and retracted in general all the heretical positions which were contained in his various books." The following two extracts give a fair idea of the stress which Pecock laid upon reason, and the offence which his Repressor was certain to give among the conservative theologians of his day. i either. ■* disputing. =* hitherto. •* anon. ' wound. " barked. ^ died. 33, 34 Faith and Reason 269 {a) Vol. I. p. 25. Of whiche first principal conclusioun thus proved folewith farther this corelarie, that, whanne evere and where evere in Holi Scripture or out of Holi Scripture be writen eny point or eny governaunce of the seide lawe of kinde', it is more verrili writen in the book of mannis soule than in the outward book of parchemyn or of velym ; and if eny semyng discorde be bitwixe the wordis writen in the outward book of Holi Scripture, and the doom- of resoun write in mannis soule and herte, the wordis so writen withoutforth" oughten be expowned and be interpretid and brought forto accorde with the doom of resoun in thilk mater ; and the doom of resoun oughte not forto be expowned, glosid, interpretid, and broughte for to accorde with the seid outward writing in Holi Scripture of the Bible, or oughwhere ellis out of the Bible. {b) Ibid., p. 98. Pecock is arguing against the third position of Lollards, that, when the true sense of Scripture has been discovered by the religious enquirer with the aid of his inner light, he should listen to no contrary arguments advanced by the clergy. That the iij^. opinioun is also agens reson, y mai schewe thus:... the more eny treuthe, whether he be of feith or of no feith, be brought in to examinacioun of arguyng, the more trewe and the more cleerli trewe he schal be seen ; and if he be not trewe, but seme trewe eer he come into triyng of argumentis, the lenger he abidith the examynacioun of arguyng, the more untrewe and the more cleerli vntrewe he schal be seen ; right as good trewe gold, the more it suffrith the fier, the more cleerli he is seen to be trewe gold ; and if he be not but countirfeet gold, certis the lenger he abidith the examynacion of ner, the more cleerli it schal be seen that he is fals and not trewe gold. And therfore,Goddis forbode that any Cristen man schulde thinke and trowe [it] to be a trewe and a good governance forto kepe hise feithis and his othere opiniouns privey, and lete hem not come into what ever examynacioun of argumentis whiche mowe'' be mad ther upon ; namelich^ whanne and where the holder of tho feithis ^ nature. ^ judgment. ^ outwardly. * may. ' especially. 270 Church a7id Churckvien iv and of hise othere opinions mai be sikir^ forto come and go and spekc and argue and answere withoute eny bodili harme, and with out eny losse of his ricches or of his fame. Certis, if eny man dare not (in the now seid casis) sufifre his feith and his othere opiniouns be brought into light and into fier of argumentis, to be at uttrisf^ examyned, he oughte be trowid that, in that, he hath untrewe chaffar* and untrewe gold, which mai not abide light and fier. Also that this iij^. opinioun is agens resoun it is evydent herbi : He is lijk to the lavve of Macomet and of Sarezenis in thilk* point in which her lawe is moost unresonable. Forwhi* the lawe of Macomet biddith, undir greet peyne of horrible deeth suffring, that no man aftir he hath receyved the feith of thilk lawe dispute or argue with eny other man upon eny point, article, or conclusioun of thilk lawe : and bi this wrecchid and cursid maundement the peple of thilk secte ben so miche lockid up undir boond, that manie mo of hem myghten be convertid into trewe feith than yit ben, if thilk so unresonable maundement of the same lawe ne were. And if any Cristen men wolen locke hem-silf so up, in her feithis and othere opiniouns of Cristis lawe, fro arguyng and disputing ther upon with othere men, (as y have knowe bi reporting of ful trewe persoones that thei so doon), certis therin thei doon foul vilonie to Cristis lawe of feith and [to] lawe of kinde, making as though Cristis seide lawe were so feble chaffare and so countirfetid and so untrewe, that it durst not save his worschip if he were thriftili® examyned. And thei doon also ful periloseli to hem silf for to make hem so sikir in a feith, eer it be sufficientli tried and proved forto be holde[n] worthi a trewe feith or no. And therfore the thridde bifore-sett opinioun in the first chapiter of this book is unresonable. ^ sure. ^ utleruiost. •* wares lor sale. ■• that. * because. ® carefully. 34-3^ Latimer s Conversion 271 G5 LATIMER'S CONVERSION Hugh Latimer was born about 1490 at Thurcaston near Leicester. He went up to Cambridge at the age of 14, and was converted to Protestantism about 1 52 1, when he was proceeding to the degree of B.D. He became Bishop of Worcester in 1535, and was burned in 1555. The First Sermon upon the Lordes Prayer. Here I have occasion to tell you a story which happened at Cambridge. Maister Bylney (or rather Saint Bilncy that suffred death for Gods worde sake) the same Bylney was the instrument whereby God called me to knowledge, for I may thanke hym, next to God, for that knowledge that I have in the worde of God. For I was as obstinate a Papist as any was in Eneland, in so much that when I should bee made Bacheler of Divinitie,my whole Oration went agaynst Philip Melancthon, and agaynst his opinions. Bilney heard me at that tyme, and perceived that I was zelous without knowledge, and he came to me afterward in my studie, and desired me for Gods sake to heare his confession. I did so. And to say the trueth, b)^ his confession I learned more then before in many yeares. So from that tyme forward I began to smell the word of God, and forsooke the Schoole Doctoures and such fooleries. Now after I had beene acquainted with him, I went with him to visite the prisoners in the tower at Cambridge, for he was ever visiting prisoners and sicke folke. So wee went together, and exhorted them as well as we were able to doe, moving them to patience, and to acknowledge their faultes. 36 UTOPIAN MONKS AND CLERGY More's Utopia, tr. Ralph Robinson, 1551 (ed. Lumby, 1879, p. 150). Compare More's satire on monks and friars on pp. 45, 81 of the same edition. They [the Utopians] thinke that the contemplation of nature, and the prayse thereof comminge, is to God a very acceptable honoure. Yet there be many so earnestlye bent and affectioned to religion, that they passe no thing for lern- 272 Church and Churchmen iv ing, nor geve their mindes to any knowledge of thinges. But ydelnes they utterly forsake and eschue, thinking felicitie after this life to be gotten and obteined by busie labors and good exercises. Some therfore of them attende upon the sicke, some amende high waies, dense ditches, repaire bridges, digge turfes, gravell and stones, fel and cleave wood, bring wood, corne and other thinges into the cities in cartes, and serv^e not onelye in commen woorkes, but also in private laboures as servauntes, yea, more then bondmen. For what so ever un- pleasaunt, harde and vile worke is anye where, from the whiche labour, lothsomnes and desperation doth fraj- other, al that they take upon them willingly and gladly, procuring quiete and rest to other, remaininge in continual woorke and labour themselves, not embraidinge' others therewith. They neither reprove other mens lives, nor glorie in theire owne. These men, the more serviceable they behave themselves, the more they be honoured of all men. Yet they be divided into two sectes. The one is of them that live single and chast, absteining not onely from the companie of women, but also from eating of fleshe, and some of them from all maner of beastes. Whiche utterly rejecting the pleasures of this present life as hurtfull, be all wholye set upon the desier of the lyfe to come, by watchynge and sweatynge hoopinge shortly to obtaine it, being in the meane season merie and lustie. The other secte is no lesse desirous of laboure, but they embrace matrimonye, not despisynge the solace therof, thinking that they can not be discharged of their bounden duties towardes nature without labour and toyle, nor towardes their native countrey without procreation of children. They abstaine from no pleasure that doeth nothinge hinder them from laboure. They love the flesh of foure footed beastes, bicause they beleve that by that meate they be made hardier and stronger to woorke. The Utopians counte this secte the wiser, but the other the holier. Which in that they preferre single life before matrimony, and that sharp life before an easier life, if herein they grounded upon reason they would mock them. But now forasmuch as they say they be led to it by religion, the}' honor ^ upbraiding. 36 Utopian Monks and Clergy 273 and worship them. And these be they whom in their lan^^uage by a pecuHar name, they cal Buthrescas, the which vvoord by interpretation signifieth to us men of religion or reh'gious men. They have priestes of exceding hoHnes, and therefore very few.... The priestes, onles they be women (for that kinde is not excluded from priest-hoode, howbeit fewe be chosen, and none but widdowes and old women) the men priestes, I saye, take to their wifes the chiefest women in all their countreye. c 18 SECTION V KINGS, KNIGHTS AND WAR ' 1 THE CONQUEROR'S CHARACTER It is impossible, within any reasonable space, to do justice to the picturesque side of this section ; but here the reader has many first- rate authorities easily accessible ; e.g. Berners's /^rom<2r/ (Globe Edition, abbreviated), Adam of Usk (tr. Maunde Thompson, 1904), Sir Thomas Gray's Scalacronica (tr. Stirling-Maxwell, 1907), Malory's Morte d' Arthur, and Bohn's translations of Matthew Paris and many other chronicles. Apart, therefore, from a i^w extracts illustrating the relations between king and people, the reader will here find only documents which he would be less likely to meet with independently. Trevisa's Higden, vol. vii. p. 315. This William Conquerour was a wise man and a gileful, riche and coveitous, glorious, and loved wel greet loos^ ; faire spekere with Goddes servauntes, and stume to them that wolde them withstonde. In the province of Hamptoun, in the newe forest, in the space of thritty myle, he threw doun cherches and townes, and put there wilde bestes. So that who took there a wilde best schulde lese his oon yghe;,.. Kyng William was of skilful- stature, to' greet and fat of body, and sturne of face, bare of forheed, greet of strengthe in brawne and armes, so that unnethe* eny man myght bende his bowe ; bote^ he wolde on his hors strecche forth his senewes and bende hit esiliche ynow uppon his owne foot. He had skilful strengthe and gaf hym self to moche to hontynge, so that he threwe doun cherches and townes to make wodes. He made grete festes and revelles in the highe feestes of the yere. He hilde his mydwynter tide at Glowcestre, his Esterne ' fame. - reasonable. * too. •* scarcely. ■' but. I, 2 The Conqueroj's CJiai'acter 275 at Wynchestre, Witsonday at Westmynster, whan he was in Engelond. But he passede and overdede' in gadringe of money of the people, other to withstonde his enemyes, other to make hym a greet name, other to cesc- his covetise. 2 THE DEATH OF RUFUS The Brut, E.E.T.S., 1906, Part i. p. 138. And this Kyng made the new Forest, and caste doun and destroiede xxvj tounes and xxiiij house[s] of rehgion, al forto make his foreste longer and broder, and bicome wonder glade and prout of his wode and of his Forest, and of the wilde bestes that wer therin, that it was mervailous forto wete'', so that men callede him " keper of wodes and of pastures." And the lenger that he levede, the more wikkede he bicome, bothe to God and to holy cherche, and to alle his men. And this kyng lete ipake the grete halle of Westmynstre ; and so oppon a VVhitsonday he helde therin his ferste feste, he lokede aboute him, and saide that the halle was to litel by halvendele. And at the laste he bicome so contrarious, that al thing that plesede God, displesede him ; and al thing that gode men lovede, he hatede dedly. And so hit befel that he dremede and mette^ oppon a nyght, bifore a litil or that he deide, that he was [let] bloode, and bledde a grete quantite of bloode, and a streme of blode lepte an hye toward Heven more than an hundred [fathom?] ; and the clerenesse of the day was turnede al to derkenesse, and the firmament also. And when he awoke, he hade grete drede, so that he nyste^ what to done ; and tolde his dreme to meny of his conseile, and saide that he hade grete drede, and supposede that him was some meschaunce to come. And the secunde nyght bifore, a monke dremed of the househald, that the kyng went into a cherche with miche peple ; and he was so prout that he despisede al the peple that was with him ; and so he tokc the ymage of the crucifixe, and shamefully bote" hit with his teith ; and the crucifix mekely soffrede al that he dede; but the * exceeded. '^ allay. * know. ^ dreamed. = wist not. •* bit. 18—2 276 Kings, Knights and War v kyng, as a wode^ man, rent of [f] the armys of the crucifixe and caste it under his fccte, and defoulede it and threwe it al [ajbrode ; and a grete flame of fire come out of the crucifixcz mouthe ; of the whiche dreem, meny a man hade grete wonder. The gode man that dremede this dreem tolde it to a knyght that tho- was moste prive with the Kyng of al men ; and the knyght me[n] callede Hamundus sone; and the monke and he tolde the dreem to the Kyng, and saide that it shulde bitoken othere thing than gode. And nothelesse the Kyng laughede therat ij or iij, and litil sette therof; and thought that he wolde gone hunte and pleye in the forest; and his men conseiled him that he shulde nought that day, for no maner thing, come in the wode, so that he abode at home bifore mete. But anone as he hade eten, nothing might him lette but he wolde go to the wode forto have his disporte. Aiid so hit bifelle that one of his knyghtes, that hight Walter Tyrel, wolde have shotte to an herte; and his arwe glasede oppon a braunche, and through misaventure smote the Kyng to the hert ; and so he felle doune dede to the grounde, withouten eny worde spekyng, and so he endede his lif. 3 HENRY II AND HIS SONS Trevisa's Higden, vill. 2>7- It happede in a tyme at Wynchestre in this kyng Henries chambre, that was dyversliche i-peynted, that one place was lefte unpaynted by the kynges heste^ there the kyng heet* afterward peynte an egle with foure briddes^ ; the thre briddes cracched^ and rent the fader with billes and with clawes, bote the fourthe bridde besied hym faste to cracche out his fader eyghen. Me[n] axede of the kyng what this wolde mene. "These foure bryddes," quoth the kyng, "beeth myn foure sones, that wil not cese to pursewe me anon to the deeth, and nameliche'' this laste John, whom I loved now moost, schal most scharpliche awayte and caste for my deeth." 1 mad". '^ then. ^ command. ■* l^ade. ' birds. ® scralched. ^ especially. 2-5 The Daughters of Richa7'd I 277 4 THE DAUGHTERS OF RICHARD I Trevisa's Higden, viii. 159. That tyme oon Fulco, an holy preost in Gallia, cam to kyng Richard and seide, " Kyng, to the' I seie in the name of God Alm>'ghti that thou marie sone- thy thre evel doughtres, leste som worse hap by the falle." "Thou lyest, ypocrite," quod the kyng, " for doughter have I none." " Yis," quoth he, " for thou hast pride, covetise, and leccherie." The kyng had [his] lordes to gidrcs', and seide, " I geve my pride to the Templeres and Hospitalers, my covetise to white monkcs, and my leccherie to prelates of holy cherches." 5 JOHN'S DEATH The Brut, E.E.T.S., 1906, p. 169. Several chroniclers tell this story. The most deadly poisons, according to medieval ideas, were those secreted by toads and spiders. And in the same tyme the Pope sent into Englond a legate that me[n] callede Walo, and he was prest Cardinal of Rome, forto mayntene Kyng Johnes cause agheyngh the barons of Engeland ; but the barons hade so huge partye and help through Lowys, the Kyngus sone of Fraunce, that Kyng John wist nought whidcr forto turne ne go. And so it bifel, that he wold have gon to [Lincoln] ; and as he went thiderward, he come by the Abbay of Sw)aieshede, and there he abode ij dayes. And as he satte at the mete, he axede a monk of the hous, ' how miche a lofe was worth, that was sette bifore him oppon the table.' And the monk saide that ' the lof was worth but an halpeny.' " O," quod he, " tho^ here is grete chepe of brede. Now," quod the Kyng, " and y may leve'. soche a lof shal bene worth xx s., or halfe yere be gone." And when he hade saide this word, michel he thought, and ofte-tyme sichede^ and toke and ete of the brede, and saide : " by God, the worde that y have saide, hit shal ben soth." The monk, that stode bifore the Kyng, for this word was ful sory in hert, and thought, rather he wolde him-self soffre pitouse deth, and thought to ordeyn therfor somme maner remedy. And anone the monk ' thee. - soon. ' together. * then. '- if I may hve. * sighed. 278 Kings, Knights and War v went to his Abbot, and was shryven of him. and tolde the Abbot al that the Kyng saide, and praiede his Abbot forto assoile' him, for he wolde geve the Kyng soche a wassaile that al Engeland shall be therof glade and joyful. Tho'^ went the monk into a gardeyn, and founde a grete tode therin, and tok her up, and put here in a coppe, and prickede the tode through with a broche" meny tymes, til that the venyme come out on everyche side into the coppe. And tho tok he the coppe, and fellede hit with god ale, and brought hit bifore the K\nig, and knelyng saide : " Sir," quod he, " Wassaile ! for never, dayes of your lyve, dranke ye of soche a coppe." " Bygynne, monk," quod the Kyng, and the monk dranke a grete draught, and toke the Kyng the coppe ; and the Kyng drank also a grete draughte, and sette doune the coppe. The monk anone right went into the fermory\ and there deide anon, on whos soule God have mercy, Amen ! and v monkes singeth for his soule, and shal whiles that Abbay stant. The Kyng aros up anone ful evel at ese, and commanded anon to rem.eve the table, and axede after the monk ; and men tolde him that he was dfde, for his wombe' was broken in sondre. When the Kyng herde this tidynges, he comandede forto trussed; but al it was for nought, for his bely biganne to swelle, for the drynk that he drank, that he deide within ij daies, the morwe after Seynt Lukes day. 6 COURT AND CITY The Brut, E.E.T.S., 1908, p. 345. And yn the xvj yere of Kyng Richard his regne, John Hende beyng that tyme Maire of London, and John Walworth and Henry Vannere beyng scherreffes of London, that tyme a bakers man bare a basket of horsbred yn to Flet-strete, toward an ostrye hous^ ; and there come a yemon of the Bischoppis of Salysbury, that was callyd Romayn, and he tok an horsloff out of the basket of the baker ; and he askyd hym ' whi he dede so.' And this Romayn turned ayen, and brak the bakers hedde ; and neybourez come out, and wolde have ^ absolve. * then. * spit. '' infirmary. ^ belly, pack up. ^ hostelry. 6 5, 6 Coztri and Cily 279 restid this Romayne; and he brak from ham and fledde yn-to the lordez place. And the counstablis wolde have hadde hym out ; but the Bischoppez men schitte the gatis fast, and kept the place that no man myghte entre. And thanne moch more pepil gadryd thedirV and saide that ' thai wolde have hym out, or ellis thei wolde brenne up the place, and alle that were with-ynne.' And thanne come the Mairc and Schereffez, with othir myche pepill, and cecid- the malice of the comynez, and made every man go hom to his hous, and kepe the peez. Thanne thez Romaynes lorde, the Bischop of Salusbery, Ser John Waltam (that was that tyme treSerer of Engelond) went to Ser Thomas Arundel, Archebischop of York, and also Chaunceler of Engelonde, and to hym made his complaynt upon the peple of the cite of London. And thanne theze ij Bischopez, of grete malice and vengeaunce, comj'n unto the King to Wyndesore, and made a grete complaynte upon the Maire and the Schereffes ; and anon aftirward alle the cite was before the King and his consel..,.And anon sodenly the King sent for the Maire of London and for the ij scherreftez; and thai cam to hym to the Castell of Wyndesore. And the King rebukyd the Maire and the scherreves fulle foule, for the offens that thai hadde do ayens hym and his officers, yn his chaumbir of London. Wherfore he deposid and put out the Mayre of London and the ij Scherrevez ; and this was don xiiij dayez afore the Fest of saint John the Baptist. And thanne the King callyd to hym a knight that me[n] called Ser Edward [D]alyngrigge, and made hym warden and governoure of the cite, and Chaumbyr of London, and ovyr alle his pepil thereynne ; and so he kept that office but iiij wokis, because he was so tendir and gentill un-to the cetezens of London ; wherfore the King deposyd hym, and made Ser Bawdewyn Radyngton, knyght, that was Countroller of the Kingis Hous- holde, wardeyne and governoure of his chaumbyr, and of his peple therynne ; and chese unto hym to worthi men of the cite to be Schereviz with hym, for to governe and kepe the kingez lawez yn the cite.... And thanne the King and his Counsel, for grete malice of the Cite of London, and despite, 1 tliither. '■' stayed. 2 8o Kincrs, Knights arid War v remcvid alle his Courtez fro VVestmynstre un-to the ccte of Yorke, that is to say, the Chauncerie, the Cheker, the Kingez Bench, and also the Comyn Place, and there thay hilde alle her Courtis of Law fro mydsomer un-to the fest of Cristisniesse next comyng. And thanne the King and his counsel sawe it not so profitable there, as it was at London ; thanne anon he remcvid hit ayen to London, and so to Westmynstre, for gret ese of his officers and avauntage of the King and of alle the comyns of the Reme. And whenne the peple of London sawe and knew that these Courtis were come ayen', and the King and his peple also, thanne the Maire and the Aldermen, with the Cheff comyns, let gadir a grete summe of goolde of alle the comyns of the cite, and ordeyned and made grete rialte^ ayens his comyng to London, for to have his grace and gode lordeschip, and also her* liberteis and Fraunchezes graunted unto ham ayen as thai afore tyme hadde. And thann, by grete instaunce and praier of Quene Anne, and of other lordez and ladez, the King graunted hem grace.... And than the King with-ynne ij dayez aftir,com to London ; and the Maire of London, scherevez.aldre- men, and alle the worthi cite aftirward, redyn ayens the King yn gode araye unto the heth* on this syde the maner of Schene, submittyng humyly hem self, and mekely, with al maner of obeysauncez un-to hym, as thay owed to do. And thus thai brought the King and the Quen'e to London. And whanne the King come to the gate of the Brygge of London, there thay presentid hym with a mylke-white stede, sadelled and brydilled, and trapped with white cloth of golde and red parted togadir, and the Quene a palfraye alle white, trappid yn the same aray with white and rede, and the conditez^ of London ronnen white wyne and rede, for al maner pepill to drynke of. And betuene Seint Poulez and the Cros yn Chepe, there was made a stage, a ryalle, stondyng upon hygh ; and therynne were mony angelis, with dyvers melodiez and songe ; and an aungell come doun fro the stage on high, by a vice®, and sette a croune of golde and precious stonez and perlez apon the ^ again. ^ royalty. •' their. "• heath. * conduits. " winding stair. 6, 7 Court and City 281 Kingez hed, and another on the Quenez hed ; and so the citezenys brought the King and the Quene unto VVestniynstre, yn-to his paUce at Westm\'nstre, and presentyd hym with ij basyns of sylver, and ovirgilte, fulle of coyned golde, the summa of xx m* H, prayng hym, of his mercy and lordschip and specialle grace, that thay myght have his gode love, and h'berteez and fraunchezes like as they hadde before tymez, and by his lettrez patentez confermed. And the Quene, and other vvorthi lordez and ladiez, ffill)-n on hir kneys, and be- sought the King of grace to conferme this. Thanne the King toke up the Quene, and grauntyd hir alle hir askyng, and thanne thei thanked the King and the Quene and went home a)'ene. 7 KNIGHTLY IDEALS AND REALITIES To understand both sides of knighthood we can find no better guide than Froissart, remembering always that the mihtary and political power of this institution was already decaying in his time. Leon Gautier puts its zenith at the end of the twelfth century; and from this period we have two different lines of evidence in the writings of John of Salisbury and Peter of Blois, archdeacon of Bath. The former, while defining the ideal admirably in his Policfaiicus (lib. vi. c. 8), more than hints that excep- tions were common in practice {ib. c. 3, 13). The latter, it will be seen, writing as a satirist, emphasizes the darker side ; but his sneer as to the bloodless character of many battles is borne out by statistics ; see p. 199 of my Chancer ajtd his England. (a) Policraticus (Migne, P. Z., vol. 199, col. 600 ; cf Piers Plowman B, pj'ol. 112 ff. and VI. 25 ff.). But what is the function of orderly knighthood .'* To protect the church, to fight against treachery, to reverence the priesthood, to fend off injustice from the poor, to make peace in your own province, to shed your blood for your brethren, and, if needs must, to lay down your life. {b) Petrus Blesensis, Epistolae, No. KClv. To John the Arch- deacon. I cannot bear the vaunting and vainglory of the knights your nephews The Order of Knighthood, in these days of ours, is mere disorder. For he whose mouth is defiled with the foulest words, whose oaths are most detestable, who least fears God, who vilifies God's ministers, who feareth not the 282 Kings, Knighls and War v church — that man nowadays is reputed bravest and most renowned of the knightly band. ...The knights of old were wont to bind themselves by an oath to maintain the state, never to flee in battle, and to set the common weal before their own life. Nay, even nowadays aspirants receive their swords from the altar in order that they may profess tliem- .selves sons of the church, acknowledging themselves to have received their weapons for the honour of the priesthood, the defence of the poor, the avenging of wrongs and the freedom of their country. Yet in practice they do the contrary.... These men, who should have used their strength against the enemies of the cross of Christ, contend in wassail and drunkenness ; they stagnate in sluggardy and rot in riotous living ; dragging through their degenerate lives in unclean- ness, they dishonour the name and order of knighthood.... If these knights of ours are sometimes constrained to take the field, then their sumpter-beasts are laden not with steel but with wine, not with spears but with cheeses, not with swords but with wine-skins, not with javelins but with spits. You would think they were on their way to feast, and not to fight. They bear shields bright with beaten gold, as who should hope rather for prey than for hard fighting ; and in truth these same shields (if I may so say) come back intact in their virginity. Nevertheless they embroider their saddles and blazon their shields with scenes of battle and tournev, delighting in a certain imagination of tho.se wars which, in very deed, they dare not mingle in or behold. 8 THE MAKING OF A LORD John Hardyng was born in 1378, was admitted at the age of 12 to the family of Sir Henry Percy (Hotspur) and fought at Homildon Hili and Shrewsbury. In 1403 he received the royal pardon and enhsted under Sir Robert Umfraville, Warden of the Northern Marches, who in 1405 made Hardyng warden of his castle of Wark worth. His rhymed Chronicle is poor poetry, but sometimes gives us original matter of real value. He brought it down to 1464, and must, therefore, have lived at least to 86. But he had finished an earlier version in 1457 for Henry VI. ; and it is from this unprinted version that Ellis published the following three stanras in his edition of the Chronicle (1812, introd. p. i). 7-9 The Making of a Lord 283 And as lordes sonnes bene sette, at foure yere age, To scole [to] lerne the doctn'ne of lettrure, And after at sex to have thaym in language, And sette' at mete semely in alle nurture ; At ten and twelve to revelle is thair cure, To daunse and synge, and speke of gentelnesse ; At fourtene yere they shalle to fclde I sure^ [To] hunte the dere, and catch an hardynesse. For dere to hunte and slea, and se them blede, Ane hardyment gyffith to his corage, And also in his vvytte he takyth hede Ymagynynge to take thaym at avauntage. A[t] sextene yere, to werray'' and to wage, To juste* and ryde, and castels to assayle, To scarmyse^ als, and make sykyr^ scurage^ And sette his wache for perile nocturnayle ; And every day his armure to assay In fete of armes with some of his meyne^ His might to preve», and what that he do may Iff that he were in suche a juperte'** Of werre", by falle, that by necessite He might algates'- with wapyns'^ hym defende : Thus shuld he lerne in his priorite" His wapyns alle in an armes'^ to dispende'". 9 A VERRAY PARFIT GENTIL KNYGHT From the chronicler Hardyng's first description of his master Sir Robert Umfraville, Warden of the Northern Marches, printed from the MS. by Mr C. L. Kingsford in The English Historical Review for Oct. 1912, pp. 746 ff. Thof" my body here be a symple wyght Abydynge at the wyll omnipotent, My herte with hym shalbe bothe day and nyght To pray for hym with all my hole intent. 1 sit. 2 assure. ^ make war. ■* joust. ^ skirmish. « sure. ^ scouting. " meinie. " prove. " jeopardy. " war. '- altogether. '- weapons. " early days. ^•■5 in lull armour. "* employ. " though. 284 J^i-figs, Knights and War A beter lorde I trow God never yit sent Into the north, of all gode sapience, Ne so helply with knyghtly diligence. Ne contekour^ he was in his Cuntre, Nor never drewe swerde ne knyfe to Englyshman, Ne Riotour, ner never made assemble Agayn neyghbour that any man tell kan. The Comonte^ he halpe and never over ran; A trew Justyse of pese in his Cuntre He was alway withouten partyalte. A beter knyght was never in that Cuntr6 To kepe the trevves'' whils that it dyd endure ; With costage'* grete eche wouke^ in sertaynte Days of redresse to every creature. To Scottes he helde, and Englyssh also full sure; Who so complaynde of ought it was refourmed, So godelyly to pese® he hym conformed. In so ferr forth'' his Jugementes wer approved That Scottes feel^ byyonde the Scottysshe see Thar own Jugges forsoke as hole'-' reproved. And by assent to Berwyke came, I se ; And bonde thaym^" thar to stonde to his decre, And plesed were with all his jugymentes, So rightvvyse was his reule and Regymentes. Bot noght-forthy" whan enmyse gafe up pese, And it away with werre^- had hole exilde^^ As lyon fell he putte hym forth in prese'*, The werre maynteynde, and kepte hym unrevylde. What so men gat, covetyse noght hym fylde'^, The wynners had it all withoute surpryse ; For whiche the folke wer glad to his servy.se. ' quarreler. * common people. * truce. * cost. '' week. '■ peace. '' to such an extent. * many. " wholly. '" bound themselves. ^^ nevertheless. ^'- war. ^* driven. '* into the press. '^ filled. A verray par Jit gentil Knygkt 285 Of the Garter full eght and thretty vera He was a knyght electa for worthihode, Whan his lyfelode^ exceded noght, all clere, An hundreth marke to leve- upon in dede, Bot oonly of the werres' thurgh his manhede ; Yit helde he than a countenaunce^ and estate With hym that was a baron nomynate. His servantes wolde he noght rebuke ne chide, Bot softely say to hym in prjvyte All his defaute, and as his preest it hide ; And whan they stale^ his gode that he dyd sc, He wolde it layne*^ fro his other maynee, And noght repreve hym more in any wyse, So was he kynde withouten covetyse. A clenner knyght of his levynge was none In all degre withouten vice detecte, And as of treuth he myght be sette allone ; His worde so sadde' was wele and ever protecte, With variance yit that it was never infecte ; In so ferre forthe his fose had delectacion Mor in his worde than neyghbours obligacion. Of sapyence and verry gentylnesse, Of lyberall herte and knyghtly governaunce, Of hardyment, of treuth and grete gladnesse, Of honest myrth withoute any grevaunce, Of gentyll bourdes* and knyghtly daliaunce He hath no make» : I darr right wele avowe; Now is he gone, I may not glose'" hym no we. 1 income. '^ live. ^ except what he got Ironi the wars. « appearance. * stole. ** conceal. '^ steadfast. 8 jests. " peer. "" flatter. 286 Khigs, Knights and War v lO THE SQUIRE IN HALL AND BOWER " Curteis he was, lowely and servysable And carf biforn his fader at the table." Perhaps, the best commentary on this Chaucerian description of a squire's social duties is the following, from the thirteenth century romance. Blonde of Oxjord (Camden Soc. 1858). The hero, Jehan de Dammartin, is squire to the Earl of Oxford, (p. 14, 1. 371.) Fair, and fairer still than I can say, was Blonde the Earls daughter. She sat at dinner, and was served by Jehan, fair and free of body, who pained himself much to earn all men's grace by his courteous service. He waited not on his lady alone, but up and down throughout the hall ; knight and lady, squire and page, groom and messenger, all he served accord- ing to their desire, and thus from all he earned good- will He knew well to seize the moment for serving and honouring each guest, so that Blonde, the fair and shapely, found her needs none the worse supplied. After the dinner they washed their hands, and went to play, each as he would, up in the forest or down by the river or in some other sort of pastime. Jehan went with whom he would; and, on his return, oftentimes would he go to play in the countess's bower, wherein the ladies, as it were by main force\ kept him to teach them French. He, as a courteous youth, did and said ever according to their prayer, as one who well knew how to comport himself. Well he. knew all chamber-games — chess and tables^ and dice, wherewith he diverted the lady Blonde ; often said he check and mate to her. Many other games he taught her ; and taught her a better French than she had known before his coming; wherefore she held him full dear.... One day, as Blonde sat at table, it was for Jehan to carve before her. ...By chance he cast his eyes on her; yet he had seen her daily these eighteen weeks past... .From this look such thoughts came into his head, that on his carving he thought no more. Blonde, who marked his thoughts astray, ' This seems the meaning of the phrase ijui en destrece. ^ A sort of backgammon, which, like chess, led to much gambling in the Middle Ages and iherelore was forbidden to clerics and university students. lo, II The Squire in Hall and Bowel' 287 took upon her to rebuke him therefore, and bade him tliink on his carving without delay. Seeing then that Jehan heard her not for the moment, then spake she again, " Carve, Jehan ! are \ou sleeping or dreaming here ? I pray you, give me now to eat; of your courtesy, dream now no more." At this word Jehan heard her voice ; therewith he started as one who is shaken suddenly from his sleep. He marvelled at this ad- venture ; he seized the knife as a man in a dream, and thought to carve well and fair, but so distraught was he that he cut deep into two fingers : forth sprang the blood as he rose from table, and sad was Blonde at that sight. Jehan prayed another squire to carve before his lady, and went forthwith to his own chamber. 11 CRUSADERS' REDEMPTIONS The Crusades, like many other ideal movements, drifted into the hands of practical politicians. Just as money payments gradually took the place, to a great extent, of the older ecclesiastical penances, so the Crusader's vow was often redeemed for a fine, especially after it became common for confessors^o enjoin the vow upon their penitents. Archbishop Giffard of \'ork enregistered a number of these commutations between the years 1267 and 1276 : the first is here translated in full. (Giffard's Rei^isfer, Sunees Soc, 1904, pp. 277 ff.) [Archbishop Giffard to the official of the Archdeacon of Cleveland.] John de Ellerby, the bearer of these present letters, appeared before us and related how, having set aside the fear of God and laid rash and violent hands upon Roger de Newton, Priest, he had afterwards competently satisfied the aforesaid priest for that injury ; in proof of which satisfaction he ex- hibited letters patent from the said priests And seeing that the said John hath thus earned the penalty of being signed with the cross by us, and that the assault was slight and small, by the Apostolic authority granted to us in this matter of the Crusade we have thought fit to absolve him in due form of law, sending him to )'OU as thus absolved ; and the said John must spend of his own goods in succour of the Holy Land, to wit, the sum of five shillings sterling, whensoever this be demanded of him ' See above. Section II , no. 19. 2 88 Kings, Knights and War v on the part of the Pope. Wherefore we command you to permit no man to molest or trouble him further in this matter. The list proceed? as follows : (2) For assaulting a priest ; Culprit to go on the crusade or make fine by payment of one-third of his property. (3) Assault on priest, 2^. (4 to 16) Clergy who had got ordained by other bishops without licence from their own diocesan, redemptions varying from y. \d. to ^i. (17) A knight, for assault on priest, ^6. \y. 4^. (18 to 56) Thirty-eight clerics irregu- larly ordained as above, fines from y. to \\s. i,d. Out of the 300 redemptions recorded in the register, the enormous majority are thus levied from irregularly-ordained clerics. In eleven cases, however, the victims are recorded to have taken the cross ex devotione, i.e. of their own accord, and not as penance for any particular transgression ; these redemptions range from 2s. to £2. los. {£^ for a knight and his wife). One of these is interesting : " to our beloved daughters in God, Helewysa Palma and Isabella her daughter, greeting etc. As we hear from your own confession, ye have made a vow some time since to go on a pilgrimage to St James of Compostella, but because ye cannot fulfil the said vow on the plea of poverty [prcfexiu paupertntis\ at your own urgent request we, by our Apostolic authority, have thought fit to convert your vow into a subsidy for the Holy Land, granting you the cross and enjoining that ye pay two shillings sterling in succour of the Land aforesaid, whensoever the collectors specially deputed for this work shall demand it of you." Two penitents, again, had " unjustly imprisoned clerks " ; several more had assaulted clerks ; in one case a priest had committed an assault, presumably upon a fellow-cleric. One knight, for adultery with the wife of another knight, bound himself to pay i,"ioo in case of relapse ; "and we, pondering in our heart his contrition and miti- gating the rigour of the penalty as best we may, have here given him the cross, that he may go to the Holy Land in his own person, or send a fit man of war at his own expense in atonement for this crime." The expe- dition for which these sums were collected was, in fact, never carried into effect ; our own Edward I was " the last Crusader of the last Crusade " in 1270. 12 CRUSADE VOWS BROKEN From the so-called Revelation to the Monk of Evesham (see Section IV., no. 18), in Arber's English Reprints, p. 74. Amonge hem' that brake her vowys y sawe a yong knyght brennyng in the myddys of fyre whome y knewe sumtyme ful wele. And as y enquyred of him why he was putte in so grete peynes, thys he tolde me. My lyfe (he seyde) that y levyd was ^ them. 1 1- 13 Crusade Vows broken 289 but baren and vayne and also vycyous. For y was insolent and nyse^ in pryde and elac\'on, and foule and unclene by the vyce of lecherye. Not withstonding for thys y am nowe specyall}- ponysht, by cause y caste aweye fro me the sygne of the holy crosse the whyche y hadde takyn apone me in a vowe that y made to goo to the holy lond, howe be >t that y toke the crosse not for devocyon but for vayne glorye, the whiche y loved to have hadde of the lorde yat y servyd. Trewely every nyght y labur in going, as mekyl as y maye, to make an ende of that pilgremage. But, what for febulnes of strenthe and contrar}'usnes of the wedyr and also scharpnes of the waye, y am lettyd gretly, that onethe^ y may goo at on tyme a full lytyl dayes journey. Sothely, whenne the mornyng begynneth, fleyn to me wykyd spirytys, beyng wodde^ yn al cruelnes, and dra\v}-n me ageyne to the place of my peynys, where ever more al the days tyme y am gretly peynde yn fyre. Nevertheles wyth a certen amendement of lessur dyssese^ thawght* hyt be lytyl. And ageyne when nyghte comythe \- am restor>-d to the place where y lefte laste my journey ; and so y go forthe on my pylgrimage, and when the mornyng ys cumme y am drawyn ageyne and caste to peynys. And al that have vowyd to go to the holy londe, and aftyr dyd caste fro hem her crosse, and whent not dedyr^ )-n lyke wyse as y 0-0 they be compellyd to do her pylgrymage, so yf they may have the grace of god yn her laste ende to repente hem, as y had to repente me for brekyng of my vowe ; and than by the holsum remedy of confession thys synne that was dedly synne may be changed to a venyal synne. Othyr wyse al that breke that same vowe be put to eternalle dampnacion. 13 CRUSADER AND WIFE An Alphabet of Tales, E.E.T.S., 1904, p. 159 (Tale ccxxix.). Jacobus de Vetriaco tellis of hym selfe and says; "On a tvme as I was in a town prechand, ther was a man that durste not com unto the sermon for his wyfe, not in-to the kurk. And he come to a vvyndow and harde the sermon ; and when 1 foolish. - scarcely. ^ furious. * discomfort. '" though. * thither. c. i9 290 Kings, Knights and War v he had hard of the indulgence [th]at longis unto thaim [th]at er merkid' with the cros, for als mekull^ as he durste not com in att the dure for his wyfe, he crope in att the wyndovv in myddeste the peple, and tuke the cros as thai did," 14 A CRUSADER'S FALSEHOOD Ibid. p. 160 (Tale ccxxxi.). Cesarius tellis how that in the bisshoppryk of [Utrecht], ane userer tuke the cros and lete as he wald go unto the HoHe Land. And when he sulde go furth, he fenyd hym selfe seke and wayke^ and sayd he myght not go, and hyrid anoder to go for hynn, and gaff hym bod^ v marcis^ thuf-all« he myght have giffen hym xU' marcis. So afterward when thai [th]at wer burnyd' wer bown® furth, he satt with thaim in the tavern and sayde unto thaim ; " ye wrichis, now ye forsake your wyvis and your childer, and your frendis, and all your other gudis, and puttis your bodis in perels be-yond the see; and I sitt att home with my wyfe and my childer, and with all my gudis, and for v marke have als mekull^ perdon as ye hafe." Bod'" almyghti God, [th]att is rightwus, shewyng how mekull the labur and expensis of pylgramys plesis hym, and how mekull desayte" and blasfeme of bakbyters displesis hym, sufferd thatt, on the night after, the devull come unto hym in liknes of a servand of his awn, and broght with hym ij grete blak hors[es], and bad hym faste caste of[f J his uppermest clothe, and go with hym and lope'^ on one of thies hors. And the cross [th]at he had takyn was sewid opon his overmeste clothe, and so he um- thoght hym that he mott'^ not esskape, and keste'* away his overmeste clothe and onone'^ lepid on the to hors, and the devull lepid on the tother ; and with-in a while thai war led ther'® dyvers paynys wer. And the devull shewid hym the seatt ther he sulde sytt in paynys, and the devull sayd unto hym ; " Now thou sail turn agayn into thy howse, bod with-in iij days thou sail dy, and turn agayn." And than he was broght agayn, and men askid hym whar he had bene ; and 1 marked. "- forasmuch. •' weak. ^ but. ^ marks. •* although. ' armed. ^ bound. '■» mickle. '" but. " deceit. '- leap. ^^ could. " cast. '* anon. 1 3- 1 6 A Crusader s Falsehood 291 he tolde thaim all as is afor sayd. And than a prestc was broght unto hym, that counceld hym to shryfe hym and do penance for his syn. And he wold nott, bod fell in despar and dyed withouten ovvder' shrift or howsill- or contricion, and was berid in hell. 15 SPFXULATION IN RANSOMS H. T. Riiey, Memorials of London^ 1868, p. 392. A.D. 1376, To all persons who these letters shall see or hear, William de Beauchaumpe, greeting. Whereas Messire Thomas de Feltone is bound unto me, and obligated, in 4000 silver marks, by reason of the purchase of Messire Berard de la Bret, my prisoner, I do will and grant that the said Messire Thomas, his heirs, and his executors, shall be acquitted and discharged by these present letters ; and that I myself, my heirs, and my executors, be ousted for ever hereby from all manner of action by reason of the said Statute, or by reason of the purchase of the said Messire Berard, my prisoner. 16 "THEY BLUSTREDEN FORTH AS BESTES, OVER BANKES AND HILLES" Edward III.'s first campaign against the Scots, in 1327, was, perhaps, the last English campaign conducted mainly on the traditional feudal lines. After great sufferings, Edward's army never even came to battle with the Scots, who had ravaged Durham and retired unscathed. In later campaigns, such as those of Crecy and Poitiers, Edward's army resembled far more nearly a modern conscript army, drawn from all classes of the country and stifiened by a nucleus of professional soldiers ; see the present compiler's Chaucer and his England, chap, xviii. The following is from Berners's Froissarl (ed. Ellis, 1812), chap. xvii. pp. 18 ff. These Scottysshe men are right hardy, and sore travelyng in harneys and in warres ; for whan they wyll entre into Ingland, within a daye and a nyght, they wyll dryve theyr hole host xxiiii. m}'le, for they are all a horsbacke, without it be the traundals^ and laggers of the [h]ost, who folow after, a foote. The knyghtis and squiers are well horsed, and the comon people and other, on litell hakeneys and geldyngis ; and they carey with them no cartis, nor chariettis, for the diversities of ^ either. - comiuunion. •* camp-followers. 19—2 292 Kings, Knights and War v the mountaignes that they must passe through, in the countrey of Northumbrelande. They take with them noo purveyaunce of brede nor wyne, for their usage and sobrenes is suche in tyme of warre, that they wyll passe in the journey a great long tyme, with flesshe halfe soden, without brede, and drynke of the ryver water without wyne : and they nother^ care for pottis, nor pannis, for they seeth[e] beastis in their owne skynnes. They are ever sure to fynde plenty of beastis in the countrey that they wyll passe throughe. Therfore they cary with them none other purveyaunce, but on their horse, bitwene the saddyll and the pannell", they trusse a brode plate of metall, and behynde the saddyl, they wyll have a lytle sacke full of ootemele, to the entent that whan they have eaten of the sodden flesshe, than they ley this plate on the fyre, and tempre a lytle of the ootemele : and whan the plate is bote, they cast of the thyn paste theron, and so make a lytle cake in maner of a crakenell, or bysket, and that they eate to comfort with all theyr stomakis. Wherfore it is no great merveile, though they make greatter journeys than other pepple do. And in this maner were the Scottis entred into the sayd countrey, and wasted and brent all about as they went, and toke great nombre of bestis. They were to the nombre of iiii. M. men of armes, knightis and squiers, mounted on good horses, and other X, M. men of warre were armed after their gyse, right hardy and firse", mounted on lytje hakeneys, the whiche were never tyed nor kept at hard meate, but lette go to pasture in the feldis and busshes.... Whan the kyng of Ingland and his oste had sene and h[e}ard of the fyers that the Scottis had made in Inglande, incontynent was cryed alarme, and every man commaunded to dislodge, and folowe after the marshals baners.... And whan they were over [the Tyne], they lodged theym that n\'ght by the ryver syde ; and by that tyme the son was goon to reste, and there was but fewe among them that had other^ axe or hoke', or any instrument to cutte downe any woodde to make their lodgyngis withal ; and there were many that had loste there owne com- pany, and wist nat where they were. Some of the footemen ^ neither. - saddle-cloth. ^ fierce. ^ either. * bill-hook. 1 6 " Tkey b lust re dc n f 07-th as Best'es " 293 were fane behynde, and wyst nat well what way to take : but suche as knewe beste the country, sayd playnly, they hadde rydden the same daye xxiiii. englysshe myles : for they roode as faste as they might without any rest, but at suche passages as they coulde nat chese'....Thus theyr horses dyd eate no meate of all that nyght nor day before ; they had nother ootes for forage for them : nor the people of the oste had no sustenaunce of all that day nor nyght, but every man his loffe'- that he hadde caryed behynde hym, the whiche was sore wette with the swette of the horses. Nor they dranke none other drynke but the water of the ryver, withowte it were some of the lordis that had caryed hotels with them : nor they had no fyer nor lyght, for they had nothyng to make lyght withall, without it were some of the lordes that had torches brought with them.... And about noone some poore folkis of the countrey were founde, and they said howe they were as than xiiii. myle from Newcastell upon Tyne, and xi. myle from Carlyle, and that there was no towne nerer to them, wherein thev might fynde any thyng to do theym ease withall. And whan this was shewed to the kyng, and to the lordes of his counsell, incontinent were sent thither horses and sompters, to fetche thens some purveyance ; and there was a crye in the kvneis name made in the towne of Newcastell, that who so ever wolde bryng brede, or wyne, or any other vitaile, shulde be payd therfore incontinent at a good price. . .. Thus iii. dayes and iii. nyghtis, they were in maner withowte brede, wyne, candel, or lyght, foder, or forage, or any maner of purveyaunce, other for horse or man : and after the space of iiii. da>'es, a loffe of brede was solde for vi. d. the whiche was worthc but i. d. And a gallon of wyne for vi. grootis, that was worth but vi. d. And yet for all that, there was suche rage of famin, that eche toke vitailes out of others handis, wherb)' there rose divers batels and stryffes bitwcne sondry companyons.,.. ^ choose. ■ loaf. 294 Kings, Knights and War v 17 THE FIGHT OF THE THH^ITY Unfortunately this most picturesque episode was lacking in the MS. of Kroissart used by Lord Berners ; so that it does not appear in the Globe edition. In Buchon's edition it forms the 7th chapter of Bk I. pt ii. (2nd edn, vol. I., p. 293). A fuller and even more picturesque account of the fight may be found in the contemporary poem published by Buchon with the first edition of his Froissart (1826 : Collection de Chroniques etc. torn. XIV. p. 301). Froissart substantiates all essential details of the poem, and adds "their captors put them most courteously to ransom afterwards, when they were healed of their wounds, for there was none who was not sore hurt, whether of the French or of the English. And in later days I saw at the table of King Charles of France a Breton knight who had been in that battle, Sir Yvain Charruel ; but his face was so sore cut and scarred that it showed plainly how rough the fight had been." The poem runs to 6000 lines, full of epic repetitions ; I have therefore been compelled to abbreviate severely in this translation. The fight here commemorated was one of the last flickers of the old lamp of feudal chivalry : most of the Hundred Years' War was fought, by the English at least, on predominantly business lines. Lordings, give ear ; true is my story and noble my matter ; for I tell how thirty English, brave as lions, fought one day with thirty Bretons ; nobles and clerks will rehearse the tale in hall and bower for a hundred years to come. When Dagworth died — he fell before the stronghold of Auray ; God of His holy pity have mercy upon the Breton lords who fell on that day ! in his lifetime he had ordained that the small folk of the township who till the corn should no more be warred upon nor taken by the English — when that lord, I say, was dead, his ordinance was forthwith forgotten. For after him came Brambro, who swore by St Thomas that he would be well avenged ; then he overran the country and wasted the land and took Ploermel by vile craft. Then wrought he all his will in Brittany, until that day when, as God would have it, the good Beaumanoir [Captain of Chateau-Josselin] whom men praised so high, and my lord John, the wise and brave and prudent, went to the English to speak with them under safe-conduct. There they saw poor folk in torments, that it was great pity ; some in the stocks and others in irons ; some gyved and others in secret dungeons, all bound by twos and threes like kine or oxen that men take to market. When i; The Fight of the Thirty 295 Beaumanoir saw this, deep from his heart he sighed; then said he to Brambro in great and haughty words, "O knight of England, you sin grievously in that you pain these poor folk who sow the corn, and from whose tillage we have flesh and wine. If there were no labourers in the land (I tell you the thought of my heart) then must we nobles labour in the fields with flail and hoe, and suffer poverty, which is great pain to such as are not to the manner born. Let such have peace henceforward, for sore have they suffered ; Dagworth's testament is soon forgotten." Then answered Brambro in great and proud words, " Beaumanoir, hold your peace ! let us hear no more of this ! Edward shall be crowned king of France, and the English shall have power and mastery on every side, in spite of all Frenchmen and all that fight on their behalf." Then answered Beaumanoir with great humility, " Dream another dream, for this is ill-dreamt ; all your boasting is of no avail. Now, Brambro " (said he), " let it please you to order this matter wisely ; let us fight together on a chosen day with sixty companions, or fourscore or a hundred ; then shall we beif assured, without further parley, which of us hath the right or the wrong." Thus was the battle sworn ; that each should bring thirty fellows in his train. Brambro, however, was not able to raise more than 20 English and made up the number with 6 Germans and 4 Brabanqons (or, according to another account, 6 Flemings and 4 Bretons of the English faction). The Bretons heard mass and confessed themselves ; Brambro encouraged his party by quoting the prophecies of Merlin. Then the sixty fell upon each other with one accord ; at the first shock great was our discomfiture ; Charruel was taken, Mellont was slain, and the valiant Tristan, so great and strong, was sore stricken with a mace ; Sir Jehan Rousselot was wounded almost to death. If Jesus Christ, Who guideth all things well, think not upon us now, the Bretons will surely have the under hand. Sore was the battle on that gras'^y field ; Caron de Bosc de Gas was smitten with a mace, Mellont and Tristan were wounded to death ; then he \sic\ cried aloud " Beaumanoir, where art thou ? The English bear me off wounded and 296 Kiftifs, Knights and War v broken ; I had no fear that day that I saw thee ; yet, if the true God think not on me now in His holy strength, these EncHsh will bear me off and thou wilt have lost me." Then sware Beaumanoir, by God who hung on the cross, that many a sore stroke should first be stricken, and many a lance broken, and many a shield pierced. With these words he grasped his fair keen spear; all whom he smote were slain or stricken down ; yet stoutly did the English defend their own part; for all his power they cared not a straw. Sore was the fight, and fierce the affray ; men fought on either side like lions ; and all, with one consent, besought a truce to go drink without hindrance, each from his own bottle ; good was that wine of Anjou, I trow ! When all had thus drunken with one accord, then they returned without further tarrying to the fight. Sore was that battle in the midst of the mead, and horrible the affray and wild the storm on either hand ! The Bretons had the worst, 1 will not lie, for two are slain and three are prisoners, God stand their help ! Now they are but five and twenty in battle-array. But Geoffro)^ de la Roche demanded his knighthood ; a right noble squire of great ancestry. Then Beaumanoir dubbed him in Saint Mary's name, saying " Fair sweet son, now spare not thine own body ; bethink thee of him who, for honour of knighthood, fought alone and unaided at Constantinople ; and I swear hy God who ruleth all that the English shall find thy worth ere the bell ring for even- song ! " Brambro heard that word ; he prized all their puissance and lordship at one clove of garlic. Then cried he to Beau- manoir, " Slay thee I will not, but I will give thee for a gift to my leman ; for I have promised her (I lie not) that to-day I would bring thee to her fair bower." Then answered Beau- manoir, " I defy thee, so please it God and Saint Mary and the good Saint Yves in whom I trust so well; cast now the die without blenching ; on thee shall be the hazard, short shall be thy life." Alain de Carroumois lost no word of this ; " False faitour," cried he to Brambro, " what dreamest thou there .? thinkest thou to take a man of such valour? With my body 17 The FigJit of the Thirty 297 I M^Q{y thee as from him ; with my keen spear will I smite thee now." So spake Alain, and smote him fair and full with the sharp steel of his lance ; full and fair in the face, in all men's sight, so that the iron clave even unto his brain ; with that lance-thrust Brambro fell to earth. Yet he ro.se to his feet and thought to grapple with his foe ; but Sir Geoffroy de Boves marked that well, and struck him down a^jain with his lance, so that Brambro fell dead to earth. Then cried Boves. " Beaumanoir, where art thou ? dost hold thyself well avenged ? here lies he dead ! " Beaumanoir heard that well, and made answer, " Lords, quit you like men, for our time is come ; let him He there, for God's sake, and fall upon the rest ! " Now saw the English that Brambro was gone, and all his pride and boasting with him. Then cried Croquart, a felon German, " Lords, know for truth that Brambro hath brou2-ht us hither and failed us in our need ; all his books of Merlin whereby he set so great store have not been worth two pence ! there lies he dead, gaping open-mouthed at the sky. Where- fore I pray you, fair lords, do as men of sense ; keep ye serried close side by side, that he who I'alleth upon us may be smitten or slain." At these words Charruel arose, and the valiant Tristan, sore wounded as he was, and Caron de Bosc de Gas. the valiant and renowned ; all three were prisoners to the felon Brambro, but his death hath acquitted all. Each seizes in his fist the good sharp spear, and foins with right good- will upon the Englishmen. After the death of the bold Brambro, great was the battle and grievous the stowre ; horrible and marvellous and sore was the affray. For there still stood Sir Croquart the German ; and Thomas Beaufort who fought like a giant, smiting with a grievous mace of steel ; and Hugh de Calverley as terrible as he ; and Sir Robert Knolles full of all craft of war, and all their companions, each in his degree. Then English and Germans spake words of cheer one to another, saying, " Let us avenge Brambro our loyal friend ; let us slay all and spare none, for the battle shall be ours ere sundown ! " But noble Beaumanoir faced them stoutly, he and his beloved com- 298 Kings, Knights and War , v panions ; then began a sore and sad affray, that the strokes might be heard for a quarter of a league around, the sore strokes that were dealt upon the headpieces on either side. There died two Enelishmen and one stout German ; there too Dardaine of Rennes was slain, and Geoffroy Poulart slept his last sleep, and the bold Beaumanoir was wounded. If Jesus Christ, the almighty Father, bring not some remedy, no living soul will be left on either side ! Sore was the fight, and long it endured ; sore was the heat, that the earth ran with sweat and blood. That holy Saturday Beaumanoir had fasted; sore he thirsted now, that good lord, and yearned for drink. But Geoffrey de Boves made answer, " Drink thine own blood, Beaumanoir, and thy thirst will pass : this day we shall all gain such honour that our valiant renown shall never die ! " Then the brave Beaumanoir took heart again ; such was his wrath and grief that his thirst was gone ; then again began the fray on either side ; men fell dead or sore hurt ; scarce one will be left alive. Sore was that battle and mortal that affray, halfway between Josselin and the castle of Ploermel, in a fair meadow on a sloping ground ; the Half'Zvay Oak, men call it, alongside a thicket of broom that groweth green and fair. There were the English in a serried ring, the valiant Calverley, that hardy warrior, and Thomas Beaufort with his mace ; he who feeleth that mace upon his chine will never eat of loaf or cake again — Sore was the fight ; never will ye hear of such another. Stout and close the English stand, no man can press among them but he is forthwith hurt or slain, all stand in one throng as though they were bound man to man. Then Guillaume de Montauban, the valiant and renowned, stood forth from the stowre and looked upon the foe. High swelled his heart ; and he prayed to Jesus Christ, who was pained upon the cross, that, if he might mount a horse that would do his will, he would break up that band, to its shame and dishonour^ 1 Froissart writes that all had dismounted for the fight, except that "some relate how five of the Bretons remained on horseback at the ed