4» THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES CASSELL'S Library of English Literature. ILLUSTRATIONS OF English Religion SELECTED ElJlTEI) AND ARRANGED Henry Morley PaorEssoR of English Literature at University College London. '* Keugion, bichest favoce of the skies, Stands most revealed before the fbeekan's eyes." CowPER : TahJe Talk. CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited LONDON PARIS ^- NEW YORK. [all rights RK9BBVBD.] CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. The FiEST English. — ^a.d. 670 to a.d. 1066 . » K PAGE 1-28- CHAPTER U. TeAXSITIOX ExGUSH : FKOM THE CoNQfEST TO WxCLIF.— A.D. 1066 TO A.D. 1360 . 28—71 CHAPTER III. WiClIF, LAXGL.4M), AXD OTHERS.— A.D. 1360 TO A.D. 1400 . 71—112 CHAPTER IV. The Fifteexth Cektttet 112— 12» CHAPTER V. Fisher, Ttsdale, More, Latimer, axd Others. — a.d. 1500 to a.d. 1558 ...... 129 — 169 CHAPTER VI. The Reios of Elizabeth. — John Kkox, John Fox, John Jewel, Matthew Parker, Edmtjnd Grindal, John Atliter, and Others. — a.d. 1558 to a.d. 1579 ....... 169 — ISO- CHAPTER vn. Reign of Elizabeth. — Francis Bacon, Edmtnd Spenser, Richard Hooker, and Others. — a.d. 1577 to A.D. 1603 183—232 CHAPTER VIII. Reign op James I. — Donne, Andbewes, Giles Fletcher, Quarles, "Wither, and Others. — a.d. 1603 to A.D. 1625 ............. 232—265 CHAPTER IX. Under Charles I. and the Cosimonwealth. — George Herbert, Richard Sibbes, Thomas Fuller, John Howe, George Fox, Richard Baxter, Jeremy Taylor, John Milton, and Others. — a.d. 1625 to A.D. 1660 . 265—305 CHAPTER X. Fhom the Commonwealth to the EETOLrxioN. — Richard Baxter, John Bcxtan, John Milton, Ralph Ccdwobth, Robert Leighton, Thomas Ken, and Others. — a.d. 1660 to a.d. 1689 305—333 CONTENTS. CHAPTEE XI. From the English Revolvtion to the Death or Queen Anne. — Tillotson, Locke, Burnet, Steele, Addison, Bl.\ckmoiie, Is.iac Watts, and Others. — a.d. 1G89 to a.d. 1714 .... 333—345 CHAPTER XU. From the Death of Queen Anne to the Fiiench Revolution. — Joseph Butler, Whitefield, Wesley, Samuel Johnson, C'o^TPER, AND Others. — a.d. 1714 to a. d. 1789 ...... 34.1—385 CHAPTER XIU. Fbom the French Revolution to the Accession of Queen Victoria. — Priestley, Paley, Heber, ChjU,mees, Wordsworth, Keble, and Otuers. — a.d. 1789 to a.d. 1837 ...... 385—411 CHAPTER XIV. Forty Years linder Victoria. — Newman, Arnold, Maurice, Klngsley, Carlyle, Browning, Tennyson, and Others.— A.D. 1837 TO A.D. 1877 .......... 411—433 llfDEXES : — I. — Quoted Writers and Pieces .......... 434 437 n.— Notes ■.••.•-..... 438—440 lU. — Specimens of English .•....,..,. 440 Truth shaU P avail : From llu: First Folio of Bishop EaU's Works. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PABE Stonehengo Initial (from the MS. of Casdinon) . . • ■ 1 Lindisfame ...•'•••• The West Cliff at Whithy ^ Euins of Whitby Abbey ^ The Uprearing of the Firmament (from the MS. of Caedmon) The Fall of Lucifer (from the MS. of Ca;dmon) . . 7 Treasure of Wisdom (from the MS. of Ciedmon) . 12 The Psalmist (from a Psalter of the Tenth Century) . 16 Initial (from a MS. of Bede) 22 An Evangelist (from a MS.) Death and Burial (from a MS. of ^Hric) . .27 A Courtly AVriter (from MS. Book of the Coronation of Henry I.) ■^- The Inscription over King Arthur's Coffin ... Si! Chapel of St. Joseph of Arimathea, Glastonbury . 34 A Benedictine Nun ^^ Man's Peril and Safety (from a MS.) . . . ■ oO A Domcmican A Franciscan Lost Souls (from a Fresco) ^^ Hell Mouth (from an Old German Print) ... 64 Wychffe, Yorkshire '^^ John Wiclif (from the Portrait in the Wycliffe Rectory) '' John Wiclif (from Bale's '-Centuries of British Writers," 1348) "G A Physician (from the Statues outside the Cloister of Magdalene College, Oxford) .... 83 Suitors to Meed (from a Brass at King's L>Tm) . 83 Breaking the Head of Peace (from a Column in WeUs Cathedi-al) 8G The Knight (from the Abbey Church at Tewkesburj-) . 91 Eichard the Second (from the Picture in Westminster Abbey) 102 Bas-relief from the Monastery Gate, Norwich . .103 The Living and the Dead (from the BIS. of " the Pearl") 108 Initial Letter (from the Mazarin Bible) . . .112 The Lollards' Prison, Lambeth Palace . .113 Christ and the Cross (from R. Pj-nson's Edition of Lydgate's Testament) HO The Ship Religion (from a MS of " The Pilgrimage of Man") 119 Thomey Abbey .122 The Tower of Doctrine (from Eeisch's " Margarita Philosophica," 1512) 131 The Chamber of IMuslc (from the same) . • .132 PAGE John Fisher (from the Portrait by Holbein) . .136 Emblematic Device (from a Treatise of Fisher's) . 137 Sir Thomas More (from the Portrait by Holbein) . 145 Hugh Latimer ^^^ Edward VI. (from the Portrait by Holbein) . . 151 Latimer preaching before Edward VI. (from a Wood- cut in Fox's "Martyrs'') 152 John Bale presenting a Book to Edward VI. (from his " Centuries of British Writers," 1548) . . 160 Second View of the same (from the same) . . .161 John Knox 100 Mary Tudor (from the Portrait by Holbein) . . 169 Preacher's Hour-glass and Stand .... 169 John Fox 1"0 Burning of an English Merchant in Seville (from Fox's "Acts and Monuments") . . • -171 John Jewel 174 John Aylmor 177 Edmund Grindal 178 Initial Letter (from the First Edition of Spenser's "Complaints") 183 Initial Letter (from a Monument) .... 193 The Red Cross Knight (from the First Edition of the " Faerie Queene ") 19* The Good Shepherd (from the Title-page of Sidney's Translation of Du Plessis Momay) . - .213 Richard Hooker "-I'l Old St. Paul's, with the Spire -^^ Old St. Paul's, after Loss of the Spire . . ■ 216 Church and State (from the Frontispiece of Hooker's " Ecclesiastical PoUty," 1594) . . . .219 Initial Letter (from King James's Authorized Version of the Bible, 1611) '-32 Head-piece from Donne's " Pseudo-Martyr " . . 234 Tail-piece from Donne's " Psoudo-MartjT" . . 235 Effigy of Dr. Donne in St. Paul's Cathedral . . 237 Lancelot Andrewes '-^^S JohnSelden 250 James Usher -^^ George Wither 258 Sir Edward Herbert as Knight of the Bath . . 263 George Herbert's Church at Bemerton . . .266 George Herbert 267 The Preacher (from Withcr's Emblems, 1635) . . 275 Betwixt Two Worlds (from Quarles' Emblems, 1635) . 275 Westminster Abbey (from a Print by Hollar, 1641) . 279 Jeremy Taylor 286 Thomas Fuller ....--•• 291 John Howe 292 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. Richard Baxter Williiun Liiud Initial Letter (from Clarendon's Answer to Leviathan, 1673) Baxter's Church at Kidderminster . . . . John Bunyan Christian and ApoDyon (from the 13th Edition of the " Pilgrim's Progress," 1692) . . . . John Milton Isaac Barrow ........ Thomas Ken John Tillotson . . . . . John Locke ........ Isaac Watts Ornament from Burnet's " History of His Own Time " (1724) Joseph Butler ........ The Charterhouse in Wesley's Time . . . . John Wesley George Whitefield ....... Euins of Kome (from the Illustration in Dyer's Poems, 1761) PAGE 298 301 30.5 306 311 313 322 327 831 334 337 343 34.5 348 3.54 361 363 364 Sam.uel Johnson (from a Portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds, 1756) 370 Samuel Johnson (from the Bust by Nollekens, 1781) . 374 William Paley 386 Josejjh Priestley 388 The Statue of Priestley at Birmingham . . . 389 James Montgomery 391 Reginald Heber 397 Thomas Chalmers 400 The Nave and West Transept, Lincoln . . . 405 William Wordsworth (from the Tablet in Grasmere Church) 405 John Keble 408 John Henry Newman 412 Charles Kingsley 423 Frederick Denison Maurice ..... 425 Arthur Penrhj-n Stanley 427 Durham Cathedral 433 Head-Piece to Index (from Leichius " De Origine Tj-j)ographica3 Lipsionsis ") 434 Ornaments from Bishop Hall's Works, and Lodge's " Josephus " vi., vui. EmUcm from J.odjc's 'Josephus" (1602). Cassell's Library of English Literature. SlOSEHESOE. (Jroiii Edti-ard King's •' Monumcnta Anliqua." 1799.) ,11— RELIGION. CHAPTER I. The First English.— a.d. G70 to a.d. 10G6. UEING the Fii-st-Englisli time nearly our whole Literature had Religion fur its theme. I mean by Religion faith in a beneficent Creator, to wliom, as supremely wise, just, and merciful, man ascribes the Initial /rom the MS. of C<.dmon. ^^^^ qualities he Can conceive, and to whose likeness he then seeks to conform himself; loving and serving all that he thinks highest in his God, who is the source of every good, and the helper of all faithful efibrt to draw near to Him. In most men this aspiration is asso- ciated with belief that the immaterial ])art, which yearns to be near God, survives to attain a heaven of the happiness it rightly sought. In every age and country, huuiau nature has been able to conceive the excellence of God only by ascribing to Him all that man thinks best, and to conceive the happiness of an attained heaven only by associating it with human experiences of the highest bliss. Even though more be revealed by God himself, man's character determines how he shall receive the revela- tion, and we understand a people best when looking at the form it gives to that conce])tion of the highest life which is the special concern of Religion. Of the strength of a religious feeling in this country before Christian times, Stonehenge and Avebury bear witness. No man knows when or how those mighty stones, which defy time, were lifted to their places; only the stones themsehes tell us that in a day long jiast, of which we have no other record, the people of this island gave their chief strength to the service of religion. Their bodies perished, their homes passed away, their- foi-m of woi-ship is forgotten, but they left imperishable record of a soul of worship that was in them. Two Epistles to the Corinthians were ascribed to Clement, who was called the tlurd bishop of Rome after the apostles, and said to have been fellow- labourer with St. Paul at Philippi. In the lirst of these, Paul is said to have "travelled even to the extreme boundaries of the West." This has been taken to mean that he visited Britain. Jerome, at the end of the fourth century, said that St. Paul imitated the sun in going from one ocean to the other, and that his labours extended to the West. Theodoret, Bishop of Cyrus in the fifth century, continuing the tradition, spoke of Paul as having brought salvation to the islands of the Ocean, and in his first discourse on Laws included the Britons among converts of the apostles. There was sui-h a CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITEUATURE. [i.n. 201 tradition : and tliei-e seems really to have been early preacliing of Christianity here, if the remote Britain were not used as a mere Hgure of rhetoric. Origen, speaking in the earlier half of the third eenturv, said that " tlic power of the Saviour's kingdom leached as farius Britain, which seemed to l)e another division of the worW." Old tradition ascribed to a King Lucius, who died in tiie year 201, the building of our first church on the site of St. Martin's at Canterbury. Britons are said to have died for the Christian faith; and Alban, said to have been beheaded a.d. 30.5 near the town now named after him St. Alban's, is de- scribed :us the tirst British martyr. Three British bishops, one being from York and two fiom London, wei-e at the first Comicil of Aries, a.d. 314. Some of our bishops luid come to the remote west as pious missionaries, others were Celtic converts. One of these teachers, Morgan, who translated his name station was in the Hebrides, upon the rocky island of lona, which has an area of L300 Scotch acres, and lies ofi' the south-western extremity of the island of Mull. After him it was called (lona- Columb-kill) Icolmkill; and the religious community there gathered by him, at tii'st rudely housed, became the head-ipiarters of religious energy for the conver- sion of North Britain, the missionaries being devout native Celts, gifted with all the bold enthusiasm of their race, who were in relation rather with the Eastern than the Western Church. The English settlers in Northiimbria were Chiis- tianised by a Celtic priest, said to have been a son of Urien, who was educated at Rome, and took the name of Paulinus. But he and his fellow- missionaries promised temporal advantage to their converts, and when in the year 633 they suffered a serious defeat in battle, these fiercely cast off their - 1 1 ^'^^B^^^^s^^ na '^~ .^--'----^1 I^I^H^SJ ^H ^9 ■^^^mi^B i^^^H i 1 r Wm Ml HhHU L , >:- v^ .'' -.'-^s^tfuB ■^^48 ^N^BH ^^^^SR^i'^lsH^S ^3 ^B ^ffi ^fll^^H 1 ^ H H m^^ -;^H HH |, ;j H H t]^ W ' J ^B^ HJff^H 1" " ' ^^^^^5*fe M ^m ^Mte^wl^^B w^^^^^^Hh^^^I^H fe^^^^ '^'^^^^C^t IKKfl H^H iKS^^iislHHB9| ^^h^''-T ~ "^ i^^hb Hi^^H ^I^HB^?^'^j>h£>^^SBI K!^^^^fe^"^i 'jjog^gB IBfc'^^-^ * -^i; '-^ HH^H H^HI ^^^Ktm/tM^'Je^'r:^n '^^^.'T^- ^" ^mj^^^^^ ^5^^^^^^ Hi H ^iWrnfi ^^M ^ixwsFiENE (1814). (Prom Scolfs - Bu.di,' AhIuhuUc^/ ' i into Pelagius (meaning "born by the sea-shore"). and who was an old man in the year 404, ventured on independent speculations that found not a few followei-s, and gave for a long time afterwards much trouble to the orthodox, to combat Pelagianism, and add to the number of conveits from the heathen^ two bishops from Gaul, Germanus and Lupus, came as successful missionaries into Britain in the year 429. Patricius, known as St. Patrick, is said to have been born of a Christian family at Kilpatrick, near Dumbarton, iji the year 372, and to have been ordamed priest by Germanus before his preachiu'r among the Irish Gaels. ° There were then scattered among the people of Ireland and Scotland devoted men of their o\to race, known as Culdees, servants and worshiiijiers of God, who were engaged in diffusing Christianitv. Patrick added to the energy of the work done I'.y tliese men in Ireland. It was an Irish abbot, Co umba, who in the year .563 passed into Scotland and from the age of about forty to the a^e of seventy-Hve worked as a Chiistian missionary on the mamland and in tlie Hebrides. His chief new creed, and Paulinus fled from them. Then help was ask'ed from the followers of Columba. The first man who was sent out from lona returned hopeless ; but they were strenuous workers at lona, who would not accept failure. Another, Aidan, took the place of his more faint-hearted brother, and formed in an island on the Northumbrian coast a missionary station upon the pattern of that in the Hebrides. This was at Lindisftirne, chief of the Farn Islands, named from the Lindi, a rivulet there entering the sea. Lindisfiirne is a little more than two miles across from east to west, and scarcely a mile and a half from north to south, attached at low water as a peninsida to the coast, from which it is about two miles distant. It belongs to Durham, although really part of' Northumberland, and is about nine miles from Ber%vick- on -Tweed. The island is treeless, chiefly covered with sand, rising to a rocky shore on the north and east. The fertile ground in it is not more than enough for one farm. Here the Culdees established themselves in such force that the place came to be called Holy Island, and from this point they worked effectually for the lu A.D. 680.] KELlcaON. Christianising of the north of England. Tliey fed and comforted the j)Oor, trusting instead of fearing the wild men they sought to soften, went up into their liills to live with them as comrades, and taught religion in a form that blended itself with the spiritual life of man, instead of depending for an outward prosperity on smiles of Fortune. The Culdees prospered in their work, an abbey rose in Lindisfarne, and there w;is a bishoj)ric established there, which about the year 900, when the Danes ravaged the coast, was removed to Durham. Aidan died at Lindisfarne in the year 6.51, and it was lie who consecrated the first woman who in Northumbria devoted herself wholly to religious life, and wore the dress of a nun — Heia, who founded the religious house at Herutea. In this she was followed by the abbess Hilda, who is associated with the history of Ciedmon's '• Paraphrase," the grand religious poem with which our literature opens. Hilda, daughter of Hereric, nephew to King .iEduin, had been one of the converts made by the preaching of Paulinus. Hilda's sister Heresuid, was mother to the king of the East Angles. Hilda went, therefore, into East Anglia, and then designed to follow her sister when she took the religious vow at a monastery in France. But Bishop Aidan sum- moned Hilda back to the north, and gave her a site for a religious house on the north side of the river Wear. There she was called by Bishop Aidan, in the year 6.50, a year before his death, to be abbess in the religious house founded by Heia at Herutea, now Hartlepool, Heia then going to another place, probably Tadcaster. Eight yeai-s afterwards, when Aidan's successor, Finan, was Bishoj) of Lindisfarne, The West Cliff at Whitby. HUda left Hartlepool to establish a religious house as a new missionary station on the west cliff at Whitby, then called Streoneshalh. Presided over by a woman, its first founder, this was a house establislied on the pattern of lona, in which men and, before the Conquest, women also, studied and were taught, as Bede says, " the strict observance of justice, piety, chastity, and other virtues, and par- ticularly of peace and love ; so that, after the example of the jn-imitive Church, no person was RniNS OF Whitby Abbey. there rich, and none poor, all thinss being in common to all, and none having any projierty. Her jiru- dence was so great, that not only persons of the middle rank, but e'ven kings and jirinces, sometimes asked and received her advice. She obliged those who were under her direction to attend so much to the reading of the Holy Scriptures, and to exercise themselves so much in works of justice, that many might very easily be there found tit for ecclesiastical duties, that is, to serve at the altar. In short, we afterwards saw five bishops taken out of that monastery, all of them men of singular merit and sanctity. . . . Thus this handmaiden of Christ, Abbess Hilda, whom all that knew her called Mother, for her singidar ])iety and grace, was not only an example of good life to those that lived in her uionasteiy, but gave occasion of salvation and amendment to many who li\ed at a distance, to whom the happy fame was brought of her industry and virtue." She died in the year 680, after six or seven yeai-s of ill-Jiealth, at the age of sixtj'-six, having spent the first half of her life to the age of thirty-three in the secular habit, and devoted the rest wholly to religion. Cjedmon's poem was written in the Whitby monastery during Hilda's rule over it, that is to say, in the time between its foundation, a.d. 6.58, and her death, a.d. 680. The fii-st buildings on the Wliitby cliff were very simjile, but in course of time a more substantial abbey took its ])lace. It was destroyed bj^ the Northmen in the latter half of the ninth century, rebuilt, and again destroyed. The ruins now upon the site first occujjied by Abliess Hilda are of a rebuilding in which the oldest part is of the twelfth century. OASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [i.u GSS In Hilda's time the servants of God in the Whithy mon;istory were actively engaged in the couver-siou of the surrounding jieojile to Christianity, and Canhnon, who seems to have been a tenant of land under them, was one of their lirst converts. As a contort zealous for the faith to which he had been l>rouglit, he sat at a rustic feast one day hearing the songs of heathen war and woi-ship pass round the table. As tiie harp came towards him he rose. The guests coming from distant jiarts among a widely-scattered |)0|)ulation had the cattle that brought them stalded, and in need of j)rotection against raids for plundei'. The\' took turns to mount jjuard over their proj)erty, and it being then Cicdmon's turn, he made that an e.xcuse for leaving his place among the guests before he .should be asked to sing. In his mind, as a zealous Christian, would be the wi.sh that songs of the mercy of the true God could be made familiar iis these old strains to the lips of his comnuies. He was a true j)oet, as his afterwork ])roved, and there might be an impulse in his mind that presently shaped itself into a di-eam as he dozed over his watch ; but if .so, to the simjile faith of those times the dream would seem to be a revelation of the wU of Heaven. Read in that way, the whole story of Csedmon, as we have it from Bede, looks like the record of a simple truth that passed for miracle. This — written not more than si.xty years after the ))oet's death — is Bede's account of the manner of CiBdmon's entrance into the monastery under Hilda's rule. BKDe's .VCCOINT OF t'.EDMON. There w.is in tliis abbess's monasten,- a certain brother, particularly n^markalile for the grace of tiod, who was wont to make pious ami religious verses, so that whatever was interpreted to him out of .Scripture, he soon after put the same into poetical expressions of much sweetness and feeling, in English, which was his native language. By his verses the minds of many were often excited to despise the world, and to aspire to heaven. Others of the English nation attempted after him to compose religious poems, but none could ever compare with him, for he did not leam the art of poetry from man, but being assisted from above he freely received the gift of C!od. For this reason he never could compose any trivial or vain poem, but only those which relate to religion suited his religious tongue ; for having lived in a secular habit till he was well advanced in years, he had never learned anything of versifying; for which reason, being sometimes at entertainments, when it was agreed for the sake of mirth that all present should sing in their turns, when he saw the harp come towards him, he rose up in the midst of the supper and went home. Having done so at a certain time, and gone out of the house where the entertainment was, to the stables of the draught animals, of which the care was entrusted to him for that night,' he there composed himself to rest at th(- proper time : a person appeared to him in his sleep, and saluting him by his name, said, " Ca-dmon, sing some song to me.'' He answered, "I cannot sing: for that was the reason why I left the entertainment, and retired to this place, because I " Aa Btahula jumeutonim quorum ei custotlia nocte ilia erat delejat.i." J,mcni,a are yoked animals-the cattle that had brought the guests to the feast. Yet on this passage the notion has been lounded that Ccedmen was a herdsman. could not sing." The other who talked to him, replied, " Yet you shall sing." " \\'hat .shall I sing ?" rejoined ho. " Sing the beginning of created things," said the other. Having received this answer, he presently began to sing verses to the praise of God tlic Creator, which he had never before heard, the purport whereof was thus: — "We now ought to praise the Maker of the heavenly kingdom, the power of the Creator and liis counsel, the deeds of the Father of glory. How He, being the eternal (iod, became the author of all miracles, who first, as almighty preserver of the human race, created heaven for the sons of men as the roof of the house, and next the earth." This is the sense, but not the word.s in order as he .lang them in his sleej) ; for verses, though never so well composed, caimot be literally translated o\it of one language into another without losing much of their beauty and loftiness. Awaking from his sleep, he remembered all that he had .sung in his dream, and soon added much more to the sami> effect in verse worthy of the Deity. In the morning he came to the steward, his superior, and liuving told him of the gift he had received, was conductiil to the abbess, by whom ho was bidden, in the presence of many learned men, to tell his dream, and repeat the verses, that they might all give then judgment what it was and whence his verse proceeded. They all concluded, that heavenly grace had been confi^rred on him by our Lord. They explained to him a passage in holy writ, either histori- cal or doctrinal, ordering him, if he could, to put the same into verse. HaWng undertaken it, he went away, and returning the next morning, gave it to them composed in most excellent verse ; whereupon the abbess, embracing the grace of God in the man, instructed him to quit the secular habit, and take upon him the monastic life ; which being accordingly done, she associated him -with the rest of the brethren in her monastery, and ordered that he should be taught the whole series of sacred history. Thus he, keeping in mind all he heard, and as it were, like a clean animal, chewing the eud, converted the same into most harmonious verse ; and sweetly repeating the same, made his masters in their turn his hearers. He sung the creation of the world, the origin of man, and all the history of Genesis ; the depar- ture of the children of Israel out of Egypt, and their entering into the land of promise, with many other histories from holy writ ; the incarnation, passion, and resurrection of our Lord, and his ascension into heaven : the coming of the Holy Ghost, and the preaching of the apostles : also the terror of future judgment, the horror of the pains of hell, and the delights of heaven ; besides much more of the divine benefits and judgments: by all which he endeavoiued to turn men from the love of vice, and to excite in them the love and practice of good actions. For he was a very religious man, humbly submissive to regular discipline, but full of zeal against those who behaved themselves otherwise ; for which reason he ended his lif(^ happily. For when the time of his departure drew near, he labouri'd for the space of fourteen days imder a bodily infinnitv which seemed to prepare the way for him, yet wa.i sci moderate that he could talk and walk the whole time. Near at hand was the house into which those were carried who were sick, and likely soon to die. In the evening, as the night came on in which he was to depart this life, he desired the person that attended him to make ready there a resting- jflace for him. This person, wondering why he should desire it, because there was as yet no sign of his dj-ing soon, yet did what he had ordered. He accordingly was placed there, and conversing pleasantly in a cheerful manner with the others who were in the house before, when it was past mid- I.J RELIGION. night, he asked them, whether they had the Eucharist there? They answered, "What need of the Eucharist? for you are not likely to die, since you talk as cheerily with us as if you were in perfect health." — "Nevertheless," said he, •• bring me the Eucharist." Having received the same into his hand, he asked whether they were aU in charity with him, and without any ill-will or rancour ? They answered, that they were all in perfect charity, free from all anger ; and in their turn asked him, whether he was in the same mind towards them ? He at once answered, " I am in charity, my children, with all the servants of God." Then strengthening himself mth the heavenly viaticum, he pre- pared for the entrance into another life, and asked how near the hour was when the brethren were to be roused to sing the nocturnal lauds of our Lord ? They answered, " It is not far off." Then he said, "It is well, let us await that hour : " and signing himself with the sign of the cross, he laid his head on the pUlow, and falling into a slumber, so ■ended his life in silence. Thus it came to pass, that as he had served God with a simple and pure mind, and quiet devotion, so now he ■departed to His presence, leaving the world bj- a quiet death ; and that tongue, which had composed so many holy words in praise of the Creator, in like manner uttered its last words while he was in the act of signing himself with the cross, and recommending his spirit into the hands of God. From what has been here said, he would seem to have foreknown his own death. There is only one known MS. of the metrical Fii-st-Englisli Paraphrase of Bible story a.scribed to Csedmon. It was discovered by James Ussher when he was a young scholar commissioned to hnnt for books wherewith to furnish the libraiy of Trinity College, Dublin. The college was then newly founded, and had Ussher among the fii-st three students who put their names upon its books. Ussher gave the MS. — for him iinreadable — to Francis Junius, a scholar kno^vnto be active in study of the Northern lan- guages, who was then resident in London as librarian to the Earl of Arundel, and a familiar friend of Milton's. Junius recognised in it a large part of the lost work of Csedmon, and it was first jniiited by him at Amsterdam in the year 16.55. The MS. is a small folio of 229 pages, now in the Bodleian Library among the collection of his manu.scripts bequeathed by Francis Junius to the University of Oxford. The firet 212 pages are in a handwriting of the tenth century, and adorned with illustrative pictures as far as page 96, with spaces for continuing the illustrations. From page 213 there is the poem of Christ and Satan in a later handwriting, with no spaces left for illustrations. Csedmon's poem begins with the stoi-y of Creation, and joins with it the same legend of the fall of Satan that was joined with it in mediseval times, and used in his "Paradise Lost" by Milton. This was founded on a passage in the fourteenth chajiter of Isaiah (verses 12 — 1.5), where Israel is to take up the proverb against the king of Babylon : " How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning ! how art thou cut down to the gi-ound, which didst weaken the nations ! For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven, I ^vill exalt mv throne above the stars of God : I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north. I will ascend above the heights of the clouds ; I will be like the ]\Iost High. Yet thou shalt be brought down to hell, to the sides of the pit." St. Jerome seems to have been the first who applied this symbolical representation of the king of Babylon, in his splendour and his fall, to Satan in his fall from heaven ; probablj- because Babylon is in Scriptiu-e a ty|ie of tp-annical self- idolising power, and is connected in the Book of Revelation with the empire of the Evil One. Cfedmon represented Satan as the Angel of Pre- sumption holding council with the fallen spirits, and there are one or two fine thoughts in his poem which are to be found afterwards in Milton's treatment of the same theme. As the old work was in the hands of Milton's friend Junius for yeai-s before " Paradise Lost " appeared, and as Milton included in his epic thoughts from old poets of Greece, it is not impro- bable that he also consciously enshrined in it a thought or two from our fii-st Christian bard, who was also the greatest of the poets produced in First- English times. I translate into blank vei-se veiy literally the opening of Casdmon's Paraphrase : — THE OPENING OF C.EDJIOX's PARAPHRASE. I. Most right it is that we praise with our words, Love in our minds, the Warden of the Skies, Glorious King of all the hosts of men. He speeds the strong, and is the Head of all His high Creation, the Almighty Lord. None formed Him, no first was nor last shall be Of the Eternal Ruler, but His sway Is everlasting over thrones in heaven. With powers oh high, soothfast and steadfast. He Ruled the wide home of heaven's bosom spread 1(1 By God's might for the guardians of souls. The Sons of Glorj-. Hosts of angels shone. Glad with their Maker ; bright their bliss and rich The fruitage of their lives ; their glorj- sure. They served and praised their King, with joy gave praiso To Him, their Life-Lord, in whose aiding care They judged themselves most blessed. Sin unknown. Offence unformed, still with their Parent Lord They lived in peace, raising aloft in heaven Right and truth only, ere the Angel Chief 20 Through Pride di-i-ided them and led astray. Their own well-being they would bear no more. But cast themselves out of the love of God. Great in Presumption against the Most High They would di^■ide the radiant throng far spread. The resting-place of glory. Even there Pain came to them, En\->- and Pride began There first to weave iU counsel and to stir The minds of angels. Then, athirst for strife, He said that northward ' he would own in Heaven CO ' Northward . ... in Heaven. So also in "Paradise Lost," Bk. v., lines 688, 689, Satan says— " We possess TLe quarters of the north." This, like the rest of the legend, has its source in the passagre of Isaiah above referred to: "I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north." In the same book of " Para- dise Lost," lines 725, 726, it is said of him that he " intends to erect his throne. Equal to ours, throughout the spacious north." CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [a.b. 658 A homo and a high Throne. Then God was wroth, And for the host He had mad(^ glorious, For tlioso pledso-broakers, our souls' guardians. The Lord made anguish a reward, a home In hanishment, hell groans, hard pain, and hade That torture-housu abide their joyless fall. "\\Tien witli eternal night and sulphur jiains. Fulness of fire, dread eold, reek and red flames He knew it filled, then through that hopeless home He hade the woful horror to inerease. 40 Banded in hlameful eounsel against God, Their wrath had wrath for wages. In iierec mood They said they would, and might with ease, possess The kingdom. Him that lying hope betrayed. After the Lord of Might, high King of Heaven, Highest, upraised his hand against that host. False and devoid of eounsel they might not Share strength against their iilaker. He in wrath Clave their bold mood, bowed utterly their boast, Struek from the sinful seathers kingdom, power, 50 Glory and gladness ; from the opposcrs took His joy. His peace, their bright suijremaey. And, with sure mareh, by His own might poured down Avenging anger on His enemies. Stem in displeasure, with consuming wrath, By hostile grasp he crushed them in His arms ; Ireful He from their home, their glory scats Bani.shed His foes ; and that proud angel tribe, JIalieious host of spirits bowed with care. He, the Creator, Lord of all Jlight, sent 60 Far journeying, with bruised pride and broken tlrreat, Strength bent, and beauty blotted. They e.xiled "Were bound on their swart ways. Loud laugh no more Was theirs, but in hell pain they wailed accurst, Knott-ing sore sorrow and the sulphur throes. Hoofed in with darkness, the full recompense Of those advancing battle against God. But after as before was peace in Heaven, Fair rule of love ; dear unto all, the Lord Of Lords, the King of Hosts to all His own. And glories of the good who possessed joy In heaven, the Almighty Father still increased. Then peace was among dwellers in the sky, Blaming and lawless malice were gone out. And angels feared no more, since plotting foes Who cast off heaven were bereft of light. Their glory seats behind them in God's realm, 10 Enlarged with gifts, stood happy, bright with bloom, But o\vnerless since the eirrsed spirits went Wretched to exile within bars of hell. Then thought within His mind the Lord of Hosts How He again might fix within His rule The great creation, thrones of heavenly light High in the heavens for a better band. Since the proud seathers had relinquished them. The lioly God, therefore, in His great might Willed that there should be set beneath heaven's span 20 Earth, firmament, wide waves, created world. Replacing foes cast headlong from their home. Here yet was naught save darkness of the cave, The broad abyss, whereon the steadfast king Looked with his eyes and saw that space of gloom. Saw the dark eloud lower in lasting night. Was deep and dim, vain, useless, strange to God Black under heaven, wan, waste, till through His word The King of Glory had created life. Here first the Eternal Father, guard of all, 30 Of heaven and earth, raised up the firmament. The Almighty Lord set firm by His strong power This roomy land ; grass greened not yet the plain, Ocean far-spread hid the wan ways in gloom. The Uprearing op the Firmament. {From the MS. oj C(Edmon.) Then was the Spirit gloriously bright Of Heaven's Keeper borne over the deep Swiftly. The Life-giver, the Angel's Lord, Over the ample ground bade come forth Light. Quickly the High King's bidding was obeyed, Over the waste there shone light's holy ray. 40 Then parted He, Lord of triumphant might, Shadow from shining, darkness from the light. Light, by the Word of God, was first named day. [The story of Creation is continued nniil God's return to Heaven, after instruction and counsel to Adam and Eve. Then Ccedinon proceeds] : — The Almighty had disposed ten Angel tribes. The Holy Father by His strength of hand. That they wham He well trusted should serve Him And work His will. For that the holy God Gave intellect, and shaped them with His hands. In happiness He placed them, and to one He added prevalence and might of thought. Sway over much, next highest to Himself In Heaven's realm. Him He had wrought so bright That pure as starlight was in heaven the form lOi \\'liich God the Lord of Hosts had given him. Praise to the Lord his worlc, and cherishing Of heavenly joy, and thankfulness to God M EELIGION. For his share of that gift of light, which then Had long heen his. But he perverted it, Against Heaven's highest Lord he lifted war. Against the Jlost High in His sanctuary. Dear was he to our Lord, hut was not hid From Him that in his Angel pride arose. He raised himself against his Malcor, sought 20 Speech full of hate and bold presuming boast. Refused God suit, said that his own form beamed With radiance of light, shone bright of hue. And in his mind he found not service due To the Lord God, for to himself he seemed In force and skill greater than all God's host. Much spake the Angel of Presumption, thought Through his own craft to make a stronger throne Higher in Heaven. His mind urged him, he said, 'That north and south he should begin to work, 30 Found buildings ; said he questioned whether he AVould serve God. Wherefore, he said, shall I toil ? ^o need have I of master. 1 can work With my own hands great marvels, and have power To build a throne more worthy of a God, Higher in heaven. Why shall I for His smile Serve Him, bend to Him thus in vassalage ? I may be God as He. Stand by me, strong supporters firm in strife. Hard-mooded heroes, famous warriors, 40 Have chosen me for chief ; one may take thought "With such for counsel, and with such secure Large following. My friends in earnest they. Faithful in all the shaping of their minds ; I am their master, and may rule this realm. Therefore it seems not right that I should cringe To God for any good, and I will bo No more His servant. \A'hen the Almighty heard With how gxeat pride His angel raised himself .50 Against his Lord, foolishly spake high words Against the Supreme Father, he that deed Must expiate, and in the work of strife Receive his portion, take for punishment TJtmost perdition. So doth every man Who sets himself in battle against God, In siaful strife against the Lord Most High. Then was the Mighty wroth. Heaven's highest Lord Cast liim from his high seat, for he had brought His Master's hate on him. His favour lost, GO The Good was angered against him, and ho Must therefore seek the depth of Hell's fierce pains, Because he strove against Heaven's highest Lord ; Who shook him from His favour, cast him down To the deep dales of Hell, where he became Devil. The fiend with all his comrades feU From Heaven, angels, for three nights and da}"S, From Heaven to Hell, where the Lord changed them all To Devils, because they His Deed and Word Hefused to worship. Therefore in worse light 70 Under the Earth beneath, Almighty God Had placed them triumphless in the swart Hell. There evening, immeasui'ably long. Brings to each fiend renewal of the fire ; Then comes, at dawn, the east wind keen with frost ; Its dart, or fire continual, torment sharp, The punishment wrought for them, they must bear. Their world was changed, and those first times filled Hell With the Deniers. Still the Angels held. They who fulfilled God's pleasure, Heaven's heights ; 80 Those others, hostile, who such strife had raised Against their Lord, lie in the fire, bear pangs. Fierce burning heat in midst of HeU, broad flames, Fire and therewith also the bitter reek Of smoke and darkness ; for they paid no heed To service of their God ; their wantonness The Fall of Lccifek. {From the MS. of Ciedtncn. ) Of Angel's pride deceived them, who refused To worship the Almighty Word. Their pain Was great, then were they fallen to the depth Of fire in the hot hell for their loose thought 90 And pride unmeasured, sought another land That was without light and was full of flame,' Terror immense of fire. Then the fiends felt That they unnumbered pains had in return. Through might of God, for their great violence, But most for pride. Then spoke the haughty king, Once brightest among Angels, in the heavens Whitest, and to his Master de;ir beloved Of God until they lightly went astray. And for that madness the Almighty God 100 ' " Yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible. Served only to discover sights of woe." (" Paradise Lost," L 62—04.) 8 CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [a. D. 6.'i8 Was wroth with him and into ruin cast Him down to his new bed, and shaped him then A name, said that the highest should be called Satan thenceforth, and o'er Hell's swart abyss Bade him have rule and avoid strife with Uod. .Satan discoursed, he who henceforth ruled Hell Spake sorrowing. God's Angel erst, he had shone white in Heaven. Till his soul urged, and most of all its Pride, That of the Lord of Hosts he should no more 110 Bend to the Word. About his heart his soul Tumultuously heaved, hot pains of wrath Without him. Then said he, •' Jlost unliUi.' this narrow place To that which once we knew, high in Heaven's realm. Which my Lord gave me, thougli therein no nioi'e For the Almighty we hold royalties. ■i'ut right hath He nut done in striking us Down to the fiery bottom of hot Hell, Banished from Heaven's Idngdom, with decree 120 That He will set in it the race of JIan. Worst of my sorrows this, that, wrought of Earth, Adam shall sit in bliss on my strong throne, WTiilst we these pangs endure, this grief in Hell. Woe ! Woe ! had I the power of my hands, And for a season, for one winter's space, Might be without ; then with this Host I — But iron binds me round ; this coil of chains Rides me ; I rule no more : close bonds of Hell Hem me their prisoner. Above, below, 130 Here is vast fire, and never have I seen More loathly landscape ; never fade the flames. Hot over Hell. Rings clasp me, smooth hard bands Mar motion, stay my wandering, feet bound, Hands fa.stened, and the ways of these Hell gates Accurst so that I cannot free my limbs : Great Lattice bars, hard iron hammered hot, Lie round me, wherewith God hath bound me down Fast by the neck. So know I that He knew My mind, and that the Lord of Hosts perceived 1-10 That if between us two liy Adam came Evil towards that royalty of Heaven. I having power of my hands — But now we suffer throes in Hell, gloom, heat. Grim, bottomless; us God Himself hath swept Into these mists of darkness, wherefore sin Can He not lay against us that we pUnned Evil against Him in the land. Of light He hath shorn us, cast us into utmost pain. May we not then plan vengeance, pay Him back loO With any hurt, since shorn by Him of light. Now He hath set the bounds of a mid earth AVhcrc after His own image He hath wrought Man, by whom He will people once again Heaven's kingdom with pure souls. Therefore intent Must be our thought that, if we ever may. On Adam and his offspring we may wreak Revenge, and, if we can devise a way, Pervert his will. 1 trust no more the light ■Which he thinks long to enjoy with angel power. 160 Bliss we obtain no more, nor can attain To weaken God's strong will ; but let us now Turn from the race of Man that heavenly realm ^\^lich may no more be ours, contrive that they Forfeit His favour, imdo wluit His Word Ordained : then wroth of mind He from His grace Will cast them, then shall they too seek this Hell And these grim depths. Then may we for ourselves Have them in this strong durance, sons of men, For servants. Of the warfare let us now i 70- Begin to take thought. If of old I gave To any thane, while we in that good realm Sat happy and had power of our thrones, Gifts of a Prince, then at no dearer time Could he reward my gift if any now Among my followers would be my friend, That he might pass forth upward from these bounds, Had power with him that, winged, he might fly. Borne on the clouds, to where stand Adam and Eve Wrought on Earth's kingdom, girt with happiness, 180- While we are cast down into this deep dale. Now these are worthier to the Lord, may own The blessing rightly ours in Heaven's realm, This the design apportioned to mankind. Sore is m}' mind and rue is in my thought That ever henceforth they should possess Heaven ; If ever any of you in any way May turn them from the teaching of God's Word They shall be evil to Him, and if they Break His commandment, then will He be wroth 190 Against them, then will be withdrawn from them Their happiness, and punishment prepared, Some grievous share of harm. Tliink all of this. How to deceive them. In these fetters then I can take rest, if they that kingdom lose. He who shall do this hath prompt recompense Henceforth for ever of what may be won (If gain within these fires. I let him sit Beside myself " [v/w incomplete sentence is then foUoiced by a gap in the MS., which goes on'[ : — Then God's antagonist arrayed himself Swift in rich arms. He had a guileful mind. The hero set the helmet on his head And bound it fast, fixed it with clasps. He knew Many a speech deceitful, turned him thence, Hardy of mind, departed through Hell's doors. Striking the flames in two with a fiend's power;' Would secretly deceive with wicked deed 3Ien, the Lord's subjects, that misled, forlorn. To God they became evil. So he fared, Thi-ough his fiend's power, till on Earth he found Adam, God's handiwork, with him his wife, The fairest woman. Having followed the narrative in the Book of Genesis nntil it enabled him to dwell with all his power upon the history of Abraham as a great lesson of faith in God, Ciednion jnoceeded with the Book of Exodus, for the sake of dwelling on the passage of the Red Sea as a lesson of faith in the God who can lead His people through deep waters. Then he pa.ssed to the Book of Daniel, for the sake of adding a lesson of faith in the God who can lead his people nnluu-t, through the burning fiery furnace — '■ In the hot oven all the pious three. One was in sight with thera, an angel sent * " On each hand the flames, Driven backward, slope their pointing spires, and, roU'd In billows, leave in the midst a horrid vale." (" Paradise Lc6t," i. 222-224.) TO A.D. G80.] EELIGIOK From the Almighty. Therein they unhurt "Walked as in shining of the summer sun VThen day breaks and the -winds disperse the devr," This part of the poem ends with Belshazzar s Feast. The rest of the MS., added in another hand^ft-riting, is founded on New Testament story, and has for its theme Christ and Satan. It tells partly what was known as the Harrowing of Hell from the apo- cryphal Gospel of Nicodemus, and partly the Tempta- tion in the Wilderness. As Ciedmon's Paraphrase was produced during the rule of Abbess Hilda in the Whitby monasteiy, its date is probably between the years G70 and 680.^ Before the death of Csedmon, Aldhelm, another poet, had begun his work. He was well l.»orn, and entered young into a monastery founded by a poor Scot named Meildulf, obtained a grant of the place in the year 672, and gave his wealth and energy to its development, till Meildulf 's settlement, Meildulfes- burh (Malmesbury) became one of the cliief reli- gious centres of its time. In 705 Aldhelm was made the first bishop of Sherborne, and he died in 709. In that Benedictine house of Malmesbury thei-e lived in the earlier half of the twelfth century (he died probably in 1142) a monk named William, whose History of the Kings of England gave him, for genius as a historian, the tii-st place among old ' The whole of that part of Caedmon which relates the Creation and the Fall of Man was translated into rhymed heroic couplets bj- Mr. W. H. F. Bosanquet as "The Fall of Man. or Paradise Lost of Csedmon," and published in 1860, joined to a theory that Cffidmon wrote ten-syllabled iambic lines with an occasional unaccented eleventh syllable, and that the English heroic line was of Csedmon's invention. This is not a true theory, though it is true that the rhythm of the First-English alliterative verse, set in cadences for chanting to the thrum of a stringed instnunent. often accorded with that of our own modem heroic measure ; and I think it is most fairly represented in translation when that and kindred measures, which tail smoothly on the English ear. underlie the music of its short accented and alhterated hues. A full and excellent account of Csedmon and his works was published in 1875 by Mr. Robert Spence Watson, in a little book entitled *' Csedmon, the First English Poet." which can be most heartily recommended to the reader. It is not unworthy of note that in the same year 1875 the st^^rJ• of Csedmon was made into a graceful little book of verse by a lady, as " A Dream and the Song of Cgedmon. (A Legend of "\\'hitby.) By J. M. J." The old i>oem, itself was edited for the Antiquarian Society in 18:i2 by Mr. Benjamin Thorpe, with a literal English translation, and the same society published a valuable series of fac-similes of the pictures illustrating the one extant MS. of it in the Bodleian. K. "W. Bouterwek published in 1849 a carefully edited text of Csedmon; followed in 1851 by an ample glossary to the i>oem. in which Latin is used for giving the meanings of words, and German for any comment upon them. Csedmon is of course included in Dr. C. W. M. Grein's " Bibliothek der Augelsachsischeu Poesie in kritisch bearbeiteten Texten und mit vollstandigen Glossar." published at Gottingen in 1857, 1858. 1861, and 186i. This work contains the whole body of First-English poetrj-. and its glossary ser\-es as a full and critical concordance to it. It is a book that the more advanced student of First English cannot do without. A beginning of the study of First English might easily be made in schools with the help of a book written for the purpose, an " Anglo-Saxon Delectus," by the Rev. W. Barnes. This includes elements of grammar, graduated readings, and sufficient glossary. Or use might at once be made of " A Grammar of the Anglo-Saxon Tongue, from the Danish of Erasmus Eask, by Benjamin Thoi-pe," which in its second and cheaper edition has become a most convenient book for school and college use. In the mere study of English grammar there can >>e no thoroughness until its development is taught, as it can be taught most simply and easily, by beginning at the beginning. This is not adding to, but lessening the trouble given to a boy or girl who seeks to work with under- standing. 66 English chroniclere. William of Malmesbury -ttrites thus of Aldhelm. He has just mentioned a Leu- therius, who was for seven yeai-s bishop of the West Saxons, and goes on : — WILLIAM OF MALSIESBURY's ACCOrXT OF ALDHELM. This circumstance I hare thought proper to mention, because Beda has left no account of the duration of his episcopate, and to disguise a fact which I learn from the Chronicles would be against my conscience", besides, if affords an opportunity which ought to be embraced, of making mention of a distinguished man, who by a clear and di\'inely inspired mind advanced the monastery of Malmes- bury, where I carrj- on my earthly warfare, to the highest pitch. This monaster}' was so slenderly endowed by Meil- dulf — a Scot, as they say, by nation, a philosopher by erudition, a monk by profe.;3ion — that its members could scarcely procure their daUy subsistence ; but Leuthcrius, after long and due deliberation, gave it to Aldhelm, a monk of the same pkce, to be by him governed with the authority then possessed by bishops. Of which matter, that my rela- tion may obviate every doubt, I shall subjoin his own words. " I, Leutherius, by divine permission bishop supreme of the Saxon see, am requested by the abbots who, within the jurisdiction of our diocese, preside over the conventual assemblies of monks with pastoral an.xiety, to give and to grant that portion of land called Meildulfesburh to Aldhelm the priest, for the purpose of leading a life according to strict rule : in which place, indeed, from his earliest infancy and first initiation in the study of learning, he has been instructed in the liberal arts, and passed his days, nurtured in the bosom of the holy mother church; and on which account fraternal love appears principally to have conceived this request : wherefore assenting to the petition of the aforesaid abbots, I -willingly grant that place to him and his successors, who shall sedulously follow the laws of the holy institution. Done publicly near the river Bladon, this seventh of the kalends of September, in the year of our Lord's incarnation si.x hundred and seventy-two." But when the industrj- of the abbot was superadded to the kindness of the bishop, then the affairs of the monastery began to flourish exceedingly : then monks assembled on all sides ; there was a general concourse to Aldhelm ; some admiring the sanctity of his life, others the depth of his leaminff. For he was a man as unsophisticated in religion as multifarious in knowledge: whose piety surpassed even his reputation ; and he had so fully imbibed the liberal arts, that he was wonderful in each of them, and mirivaUed in all. I greatly err, if his works written on the subject of Yirginitj-, than which, in my opinion, nothing can be more pleasing or more splendid, are not proofs of his immortal genius ; although, such is the slothf ulness of our times, they may excite disgust in some persons, not duly considering how modes of expression differ according to the customs of nations. The Greeks, for instance, express themselves in- volvedly, the Romans clearly, the Gauls gorgeously, the Angles turgidly. And truly, as it is pleasant to dwell on the graces of our ancestors and to animate our minds by their example, I would here, most willingly, unfold what painful labours this holy man encountered for the privileges of our church, and with what miracles he signalised his life, did not my avocations lead me elsewhere ; and his noble acts appear clearer even to the eye of the purblind, than they can possibly be sketched by my pencil. The innumerable miracles which at this time take place at his tomb, manifest 10 CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [a.u (i:(l to the present race the sanctity of the life he passed. He has therefore his proper praise ; he has the fame acquired by his merits : my history pursues its course. William of Malme.sbury wrote a life of Aldhelm, in wliich he says that lie was unequalled as an inventor and singer of English verse, and that a song ascribed to him, whicli was still familiar among the people in King Alfred's days, luwl been sung by him on the bridge between Malmesbury and the country, to prevent people from running away after mass was sung without waiting to hear the sermon. He began the song as a gleeman, with matter to which they listened for their pleasure, gi-adually Ijlended words of Scripture \\-ith his jesting, and " so brought health, to tlieir minds when he could have done nothing if he had thouglit to manage them severely and by excommunication." It is not improbable that among •extant First-English poems are some of Aldhelm's pieces, but there is no piece known to be his. HLs Latin works remain, including the books in praise of virginity, to which William of Malmesbui-y refen-ed. ■One Ls in prose, and after a long introduction in praLse of purity proceeds to celebrate some holy men said many holy women who were dLstinguished for theii- exaltation of the soul over the flesh. In his poem, " De Laudibus Virginitatis," there is a shoi-ter introduction, and it consists of a series of little celebrations, many of coiu'se honouring saints who had already been celebrated in his prose. Aldlielm's poem, " Of Maidens' Praise," begins thus with — AN INVOC.A.TIOX.' Almighty Maker, Master of the World, Who shap'st the starry Heaven's shining dome. And formest Earth's foundations hy thy Word ; Paint' st the pale meadows with their purple bloom, Hein'st the blue waters of the wave-roDed plain Lest they have force to flood the dry land's hound ^\Tiere checks of cliff shatter the rising main ; Thine the firm grasp of frost on tilth of ground. Thou mak'st increase the seed in mists of rain ; Thou takest away darkness with twin lights. Titan day's comrade, Cj-nthia the night's ; Thou hast adorned the waters and made fair The scaly squadrons of the gray abyss ; Through Thee swift hosts that soar in the clear air Chirp and to echoes pipe resounding bliss. * These are the lines themselves :— " Omnipotens genitor, mimflum ditione jrubemans, Lticida stelligeri qui condis culmina cceb. Nee non telluris fonnaa fundamina verbo ; Pallida purpureo pingis qui flore vireta, Sic quoque fluctivagi refrenas coerula ponti, Mergere ne valeant terrarum littora lymphis, Sed tumidos frangant fluctus obstacnla rupis Arrorum gelido qui cnltu3 fonte rigabis, Et segetiim glumas uimbosis imbribus auges ; Qui latcbras mundi geminate sidere demis, Nempe diem Titan, et noctem Cynthia comit ; Piscibus sequoreos qui campos pinguibus omas, Sqnamisreras formans in glauco gurgite turmas ; Limpida praepetibus sic comples aera catenris, Gamila quae rostris resonantes cantica pipant, Atqne Creatorem diversa voce fatentur : Da pius anxilium, Clemens, nt carmine possim, Incljta sanctorum modulari gesta priomm." In differing notes their many voices raise Ever one song to their Creator's praise : Help me Thou, Merciful, my song to bring. That I the famous deeds of saints of old may sing Tlie central line of religious thought in the old First-English times, traceable from Caedmon to Aldhelm, whose work was commenced in Caedmon's lifetime, passes on from Aldhelm to Bede, who began his work in Aldhelm's lifetime, and was thirty-six years old when Aldhelm died. Bede was bom in, or within a few months of, the year 673, about the time when Ciedmon's Paraphra.se was written. Wh.en he was a child, Benedict Biscop founded th.e twin monasteries of St. Peter and St. Paul at Wearmouth and Jan-ow. St. Peter's at Weai-mouth was first ready, and Bede entered it when he was seven yeai-s old. St. Paul's, on a bank of the Tyne about five miles from St. Peter's, was ready for opening when Bede was ten, and he was one of those inmates of St. Peter's who were removed to it. From the age of ten for the next fifty-two yeai-s, untU his death in the year 73.5, Bede's home was in the JaiTow monastery, humbly fulfilling all his duties as a monk, and giving to useful studies all the time that was not spent in the exercises of religion. He compiled clear Latin treatises upon all branches of knowledge cultivated in his day, and digested into manuals the essenc<^ of the Scripture teaching of the Fathers. His labour supplied the best text-books for the monastery schools, wliich were the centres of education in all parts of the country, and the readiest aids for elder men to an exact study of the Bible. A book of his on the Nature of Things was for centuries the accejited manual for the learning of what was then known of the laws Of nature ; and his Ecclesiastical History, which ends with the year 731, is our first histoiy of England. In it all information then to be obtained wa-s collected and arranged with scholaily care and clearness, and this book Ls in our own day the chief source of information as to the events of which it treats. The chapter of it in w-hicli Csedmon's stoiy is told has been already quoted. '- Bede's fame spread in his own day over the Christian world, yet he refused to be made abbot at Jarrow, because, he said, " the office demands household care, and household care brings with it distraction of mind, which hindei-s the pursuit of learning." At the end of his Ecclesiastical History of England, which he was finishing in the year 731, he wrote : — Thus much of the ecclesiastical history of Britain, and more especially of the English nation, as far as I could Icam either from the writings of the ancients, or the tradition of our ancestors, or of my own knowledge, has, with the hf.-lji of God, been digested by me, Bede, the servant of God, and priest of the monastery of the blessed apostles, Peter and Paul, which is at Wearmouth and Jarrow ; who being bom in the territory of that same monastery, was given, at seven years of age, to be educated by the most reverend Abbot Benedict, and afterwards by Ceolf rid ; and spending all the remaining time of my life in that monastery, I wholly applied myself to the study of Scripture, and amidst the observance of * On page 4. TO A.D. 735.] RELIGION. 11 regular discipline, and the daily care of singing in the church, I :ilways took delight in learning, teaching, and writing. In the nineteenth year of my age, I received deacon's orders, in the thirtieth, those of the priesthood, both of them by the ministry of the most reverend Bishop John, and by order of the Abbot Ceolfrid. From which time, till the fifty-ninth year of my age, I have made it my business, for the use of me and mine, to compile out of the works of the venerable Fathers, and to interpret and explain according to their meaning, these following pieces : — The list of his works foUows, to which he adds — And now, I beseech thee, good Jesus, that to whom thou hast graciously granted sweetly to partake of the words of thy wisdom and knowledge, thou wilt also vouchsafe that he may some time or other come to thee, tlie fountain of all wisdom, and always appear before thy face, who livest and rcignest world without end. Amen ! Tradition explained the word "Venerable" joined always to the name of Bede, by saying that after his death one of his pupils sought to write his epitaph in a line of metrical Latin, and left space for the adjective he had not yet found to fit his verse while it expressed his meaning. " In this grave are the bones of Bede." " Hac sunt in fossa Bedte ossa." The student slept over his unfinished line, and when he awoke, found that an angel had finished his verse with a word added in lines of light — "Hac sunt in fossa Bedte Venerabilis ossa."' A pupil of Bede, named Cuthbert, described to a fellow-student the death of their beloved master in a letter that is extant. It faithfully paints to us the religion of this humble, indefatigable scholar : — cuthbert's letter on the death of \'ENERABLE BEDE. To his fellow-reader Cuthwin, beloved in Christ, Cuthbert, hi.s schoolfellow ; health for ever in the Lord. I have received with much pleasure the small present which you sent me, and with much satisfaction read the letters of your devout erudition; wherein I found that masses and holy prayers are diligently celebrated by you for our father and master, Bede, whom God loved : this was what I principally ilesired. and therefore it is more pleasing, for the love of him (according to my capacity), in a few words to relate in what nianner he departed this world, understanding that you also desire and ask the same. He was much troubled with short- ness of breath, yet without pain, before the day of our Lord's resurrection, that is, about a fortnight, and thus he after- wards passed his life, cheerful and rejoicing, giving thanks to Almighty God every day and night, nay, everj' hour, till the day of our Lord's ascension, that is, the seventh before the kalends of June [twenty-sixth of 3Iay], and daily read lossons to us his disciples, and whatever remained of the day, he spent in singing psalms ; he also passed all the night awake, in joy and thanksgiving, unless a short sleep pre- vented it ; in which case he no sooner awoke than he presently repeated his wonted exercises, and ceased not to give thanks to God with uplifted hands. I declare with truth, that I have never seen with my eyes, nor heard with my cars, any man so earnest in giving thanks to the li\-ing God. " In this gi-ave are tlie bones of the Venerable Bede." O truly happy man I He chanted the sentence of St. Paul the apostle, "It is fearful to fall into the hands of the lii-ing God," and much more, out of Holy Writ; wherein also- he admonished us to tliink of our last hour, and to shake off the sleep of the soul; and being learned in our poetry, he said some things also in our tongue, for he Siiid, putting the same into English, ' For tham ueod-fere, Nenij^ wyrtheth Thances snottra Thoune him tUearf sy To gehiggene Mt his heoueu-gange Hw^t his gaste Godes oththe yveles .a^er deathe heoneu Demed wiu-the." which means this : — " For the journey we must aU take no man becomes wiser of thought than he needs be to consider before his going- hence for what good or evil his soul shall be judged after its departure." He also sang antiphons according to our custom and his- own, one of which is, " glorious King, Lord of all power, who, triumphing this day, didst ascend above all the heavens; do not forsake us orphans ; but send down upon us the Spirit of truth which was promised to us by the Father. Hallelu- jah." And when he came to that word, " do not forsake us," he burst into tears, and wept much, and an hour after he began to repeat what he had commenced, and we, hearing it, mourned with him. By turns we read, and by turns we wept, nay, we wept always whilst we read. In such joy we passed the days of Lent, till the aforesaid day; and he- rejoiced much, and gave God thanks, because he had been thought worthy to be so weakened. He often repeated, "That God scourgeth every son whom he receiveth;" and much more out of Holy Scripture ; as also this sentence from St. Ambrose, " I have not lived so as to be ashamed to live among you ; nor do I fear to die, because we have a gracious God." During these days he laboured to compose two works well worthy to be remembered, besides the lessons we had from him, and singing of Psalms; viz., he translated the Gospel of St. John as far as the words, " But what are they among so many," &c. [St. John vi. 9], into our own tongue for the benefit of the church ; and some collections out of the Book of Notes of Bishop Isidorus, saying : " I will not have my pupils read a falsehood, nor labour therein -n-ithout profit after my death." WTien the Tuesday before the ascension of our Lord came, he began to suffer still more in his breath, and a small swelling appeared in his feet ; but ho passed all that day and dictated cheerfully, and now and then among other things, said, " Go on quickly, I know not how long I shall hold out, and whether my Maker will not soon take me away." But to us he seemed very well to know the time of his departure. And so he spent the night, awake, in thanks- giving ; and when the morning appeared, that is, "Wednesday,, he ordered us to wTite ^-ith all speed what he had begun ; and tliis done, we walked till the third hour with the relics of saints, according to the custom of that day. There was one of us -with him, who said to him, " Most dear master, there is still one chapter wanting : do you think it troublesome to be asked any more questions ?'' He answered, " It is no trouble. Take your pen, and make ready, and write fast." Which he did, but at the ninth hour he said to me, " I have some little articles of value in my chest, such as pepper, napkins, and incense : run quickly, and bring the priests of our monastery to me, that I may distribute among them the gifts which God has bestowed on me. The rich in this world are bent on gi\-ing gold and silver and other precious things. But I, in charity, will joyfully give my brothers what God has- given unto me." He spoke to every one of them, admonish- ing and entreating them that they would carefully say 12 CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [A.D. 735 masses and prayers for him, which they readily promised : but they all mourned and wept, especially because he said, "They should no more see his face in this world." They rejoiced for tliat ho said, " It is time that I rotura to Hini who formed me out of nothing: I have lived long; my merciful Judge well foresaw my life for me ; the time of my dissolution draws nigh; for I desire to die and to be with Ohrist." Having said much more, ho passed the day Joyfully till the evening ; and the boy, above mentioned, said : " Dear master, there is yet one sentence not written.'' He answered, •' Write quickly.'' Soon after, the boy said, " The sentence is now written." He replied, " It is well, you have said the truth. It is ended. Receive my head into your hands, for it is a great satisfaction to me to sit facing my holy place, ■where I was wont to pray, that I may also sitting call upon my Father." And thus on the pavement of his little cell, singing, " Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost," when he had named the Holy Ghost, he hreathed his last, and so depai-tod to the heavenly kingdom. AU who were present at the death of the blessed father, said they had never seen any other person expii'O with so much devotion, and in so tranquil a frame of mind. For as you have heard, so long as the soul animated his body, he never ceased to give thanks to the true and living God, with e.xpandcd hands exclaiming, " Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy (ihost!" with other spiritual ejaculations. But know this, dearest brother, that I could say much concerning him, if my want of learning did not cut short my discourse. Nevertheless, by the grace of God, I purpose shortly to write more concerning him; particularly of those things which I saw with my own eyes, and heard with my own ears. The torch passed from Bede to Alciiin, horn, probahly, in the year of the deatli of Bede, a.d. 735. Alcuin, like Ciedmon and Bede, was a North countiy- man. He was taken as an infant into tlie monastery at York, there trained to the service of the Church, and when his studious character had declared itself, he acquired charge over tlie minster school and the library, then one of the best in England. On the library wall Alcuin caused four lines to this effect to be inscribed in Latin verses of his own : — ON A LIBRARY. " Small is the .space which contains the gifts of heavenly Wisdom Wliich you. Reader, rejoice piously here to receive ; Richer than richest gifts of the kings this treasure of Wisdom ; Light, for the seeker of this, shines on the road to the Day." Cliarlemagne was in those days establishing his rule ; and looking to First-English civilisation for the guidance of his own attempts to civilise his empire, he drew to his side the learned Yorkshireman as a sort of Minister of Public Instruction. Alcuin established discipline in the monasteries under Charlemagne's dominion, wrote text-books for their schools, attacked what he believed to be heresies of the time, was not less religious than Bede, though less gentle, for he was stern of opinion and energetic in administration, while recognising all the Cliristian graces, and labouring to temper even Charlemagne's delight in war with tlie spirit of mercy. His phrase for himself was " the humble Levite." He was in a position favourable in the highest degree to self- seeking, but thei-e is not a trace in his life or writing of any thought that set advantage of his own before the well-being of humanity. He gathered to himself no riches, but spent shrewd energies, that would have enabled him to compass any low object of worldly ambition, in strenuous labour to serve God by establishing His kingdom in the hearts of men. Alcuin died iii the year 801. One of his books (written in Latin) is a short treatise " On the Virtues and Vices," wi-itten for Wido, Margrave of Brittany, governor, therefore, of the province that contained the Abbey of Tours, in which Alcuin died. This treatise, written at Wido's request to help him in the government of his own life, began with Wisdom V'^^ Treasure of Wisdom. (From the MS. of Cadinon.) and the three great Christian virtues — Faith, Hope, Charity — then in a series of short chapters gave the chai'acters of the chief virtues and vices, with jirac- tical counsel upon them, enforced by citations of Scripture. There are six-and-thirty chapters in the book, of which these are the last two : — FROM ALCUIN S BOOK ON THE VIRTUES AND VICES. Chapter XXXV. — The Four Virtues.^ First is to be known what Virtue is. Virtue is a state of the sold, a grace of nature, a reason in life, a piety in manners, the worship of the Deity, the honour of the man, the deserving of eternal happiness. The parts of it, as wo have said, ai-e four in chief — Prudence, Justice, Courage, Temperance. Prudence is knowledge of divine and human ' The Four Virtues. He means the four Virtues called cardinal, ■which were Pmdeuce or Wisdom, Justice, Coura'^e, Temperance. lu Plato's Republic the orders iu a state are said to be three — Guardians, Auxiliaries, Producers; the virtues of a state three— Wisdom (quality of the Guardians), Courai^e (of the Auxiliaries), Temperance (of the Producers and of all) ; Justice, the fourth Virtue, beinj; the Harmony of All. These virtues coiTespond also, said Plato, in the individual to TO A.D. 804] RELIGION. things, as far as that is given to man ; by which is to be understood what a man should avoid, or what ho should do : and this is what is read in the Psalm, Depart from eril and do good. Justice is a nobiUty of the mind, ascribing to each thing its proper dignity. By thi.s, the study of divinity, rights of humanity. Just judgments, and the equity of our whole life may be preserved. Courage is a great patience of the mind and long suffering, with perseverance in good works, and victory over aU kinds of vices. Temperance is the measure of the whole life, lest a man love or hate too much, but that a considerate attention temper all varieties of life. But to those who shall keep these in faith and charity, are promised the rewards of eternal glory by the truth itself in Christ Jesus. There is no better Prudence than that by which God is understood and feared according- to the measure of the human mind, and his future judgment is believed. And what is more Just than to love God and keep his commandments ? through whom, when we were not, we were created, and when we wore lost we were created anew, and freed from the bondage of sin ; who freely gave vis all the good we have. And in this Coirrage what is better than to overcome the devil, and triumph over all his suggestions, to bear firmly in God's name all the troubles of the world r A very noble i-irtue is Temperance, in which stands among men all the honour of this life ; that a man shall, in what- ■ever cause, think, speak, and do all things with regard to his well-being. But these things are light and sweet to the man loving God, who says, Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly ■of heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls ; for my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. Is it not better and iappier to love God, who is eternal beauty, eternal fra- grance, eternal rapture, eternal harmony, eternal sweetness, honour perpetual and happiness without an end, than to love the vain shows and disquiets of this age — the fair appear- ances, sweet savours, soft sounds, fragi-ant odours and things pleasant to the touch, the passing delights and honours of the world, that all recede and vanish as a flying shadow, deceive the lover of himself, and send him to eternal misery ? But he who faithfully loves God and the Lord, unceasingly worships Him, and steadily fulfils His commandments, shall he made worthy to possess eternal glory with His angels. Ch.ipter XXXVI. — Peroration of the Work. These things have I set down for you, my sweetest son, in shoi-t discourse, as you requested ; that you may have them always in youi- sight as a little handbook, in which you may consider with yourself what you ought to avoid, or what to do, and be exhorted in each prosperous or adverse accident of this world how you should mount to the height of perfec- tion. And do not let the quality of the lay habit or secular companionship deter you, as if in that dress you could not enter the gates of heaven. Since there are preached, equally to all, the blessings of the kingdom of God, so to every se.x, age, and jjerson equally, according to the height of merit, does the way into the kingdom of God lie open. There it is not distinguished who was in this world layman or clerk, rich man or poor, youth or elder, master or .slave ; but each one according to the merit of his deeds shall bo crowned with eternal glory. Amen. three qualities — Wisflom to the Rational, Courage to the SpLrited, Temperance to the Appetitive ; while Injustice disturbs their Har- mony. It is the Just aini alike of a Man and of a State to be Tem- perate, Bn-ave, and Wi&e. lu his Protagora-s Plato added to these four •cardinal virtues Holiness (oo-ioTfit) ; the ei-fft/Jtm frequently men- tioned as a virtue by the Socrates of Xenopbou. Aristotle omitted this, distifictly separating Ethics from Religion. Apart from C'setlmon's Paraphrase, the religious poetry of the First English is now chiefly in two collections : the one known as the " Vercelli Book," because it was discovered in 1823 by Dr. Friedrich Blunie, in a monastery at Vercelli ; the other known as the " E.Keter Book," because it is in the Chapter Library of Exeter Cathedral, to which it was given, with other volumes, by Bishop Leofric between the years 1046 and 1073. The " Exeter Book" begins with a fine poem, in nearly 3,400 lines, on Christ, by Cvnewulf, who is represented also in the "' Exeter Book " by a long poem on the Legend of St. Juliana, and in the "Vercelli Book" by neaily 3,000 lines on the Legend of St. Helen, or the Finding of the Cross. Jacob Grimm was probably right in suggesting that this poet was a Cynewulf, Bishop of Lindisfarne, who died in the year 780. He asso- ciated his name with his work by scattering the letters of it conspicuously o^'er some short passage in each of his longer poems. Other metrical legends in these books are that of St. Andrew, in 3,444 lines, and a shorter legend of St. Guthlac. There are also two poems of a form that survived First- English times. Addresses of the Soul to tlie Body, .several religious allegories, of the Phcenix, of the Panther, concerning whom a fable is applied to the ResuiTection, and the Whale, " cmel and tierce to seafarers," who is described as a type of the Devil. Of him the fable is that he draws his prey by send- ing a sweet odour from his mouth. " Then suddenly around the prey the grim gums crash together. So it is to every man who often and negligently in this stormy world lets himself be deceived by sweet odour. . . . Hell's latticed doors have not return or escape, or any outlet for those who enter, any more than the fishes sporting in ocean can turn back from the whale's grip." In the First-English artist's illustration to Caedmon's Fall of the Angels ' and other drawings of his, the open jaws of the whale represent the mouth of hell. We shall find this symbol retained in mediasval literature. Among the •shorter poems is one called "The Sea-farer." This builds an allegory upon our English desire towards the sea, and represents under the figure of seafaring the leaving earth behind and its unstable joys, for lonely watching and striving, against all cold discou- ragements and through all trial in the tumults of the spiritual storm, uncared for by those who choose earth and its pleasures. Let me try to translate THE SEAFARER. I may sing of myself now A song that is true, Can tell of wide travel. Of hard days of toil ; How oft through long seasons I suffered and strove. Abiding witliin my breast Bitterest care ; How I sailed among sorrows In many a sea ; 10 The wild rise of the waves, The close watch through the night ^ See page 7. 14 CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [a.d. 700 At the dark i^row in danger Of dashing on rock, Folded in by the frost, 5Iy feet bound liy the cold In diill bands, in tlio breast The heart burning with Ciire. The soul of the sea wearj- Hunger assailed. Knows not ho who find^ happiest Home upon earth How I lived through long winters In labour and care. On the icy-cold ocean, An exile from joy, Cut off from dear kindi'ed, Encompassed with ice. Hail Hew in hard showers. And nothing I heard But the wrath of the waters, The icy-cold way ; At times the swan's song ; In the scream of the gannet I sought for my joy. In the moan of the sea-whelp For laughter of men. In the song of the sea-mew For drinking of mead. 8t;irlings answered the stoi-m Beating stones on the cliff, Icy-featliered, and often The eagle would shriek, Wet of wing. Not one home-friend could feel With th(^ desolate soul ; For he little believes To whom life's joy belongs In the town, lightly troubled AVith dangerous tracks. Vain •nith high spirit And wanton with wine, How often I wearily Held my sea-way. The night shadows darkened. It snowed from the north ; The rime bound the rocks ; The hail rolled upon earth. Coldest of corn : Therefore now is high heaving In thoughts of my heart, That my lot is, to learn The wide joy of waters The whirl of salt spray. Often desire drives lly soul to depart, That the home of the strangers Far hence I may seek. There is no man among us So proud in his mind, Nor so good in his gifts. Nor so gay in his youth. Nor so daring in deeds, Nor so dear to his lord, That his soul never stirred At the thought of seafaring, Or what his great Master Will do with him yet. He hears not the harp, Heeds not giving of rings, 80 Has to woman no wiU, And no hope in the world, 20 Nor in aught there is else But the wash of the waves. He lives ever longing WTio looks to the sea. Groves bud with green, The hills grow fair, Gay shine the fields. The world's astir : 90 All this but warns The willing mind 30 To set the sail, For so he thinks Far on the waves To win his way. With woeful note The cuckoo warns. The simimer's warden sings. And sorrow rules 100 The heart-store bitterly. No man can know, 40 Nmsed in soft ease. The bm-den borne By those who fare The farthest from their friends. In the soul's secret chamber My mind now is set ; My heart's thought on wide waters. The home of the whale, 110 It wanders away 50 Beyond limits of land : Comes again to me, yearning AVith eager desire ; Loud erics the lone-flier, And stii's the mind's longing To travel the way that is trackless. The death-way over the flood. For my will to my JIaster's pleasui-e Is warmer than tliis dead life 1 20 That is lent us on land. 60 I believe not That earth-blessings ever abide. Ever of three things one. To each ere the severing hour ; Old age, sickness, or slaughter. Will force the doomed soid to depart. Therefore for each of the earls, Of those who shall afterwards name them. This is best laud from the living 130 In last words spoken about him : — He worked ere he went his way. When on earth, against wiles of the foe. With brave deeds overcoming the devil. His memory cherished By children of men. His glory grows ever TO i.D. 800.] RELIGION. 13 140 150 160 With angels of God, In life everlasting Of bliss with the bold. Passed are the days of the pride Of the kingdoms of earth. Kings are no more, and kaisers. None count out, As once they did, their gifts of gold When that made them most great, And 3Ian judged that they lived As Lords most High. That fame is all fallen. Those joys are all fled; The weak ones abiding Lay hold on the world : "By their labour they win. High fortune is humbled ; Earth's haughtiness ages And wastes, — as now withers Each JIan from the world : Old Age is upon him And bleaches his face ; He is gray-haired and grieves, Knows he now must give up The old friends he cherished, Chief children of eai"th. The husk of flesh. When life is fled, Shall taste no sweetness. Feel no sore ; Is in its hand no touch : Is in its brain no thought. Though his bom brother Strew gold in the grave. Bury him pompously Borne to the dead. Entomb him with treasure. The trouble is vain : The soul of the sinful His gold may not save From the. awe before God, Though he hoarded it heedfully WTiile he lived here. Oreat awe is in presence of God.' The firm ground trembles before Him ■UTio strongly fixed its foundations. The limits of earth and the heavens. Fool is he without fear of the Lord ; To him will come death unforeseen : Happy he who is lowly of Ufo ; To him wUl come honour from heaven : The Creator will strengthen his soul Because he put trust in Hia power. Rude will shoidd be ruled And restrained within bound And clean in its ways with men. 1 Tliis line begins a new leaf, and although there is no sign of its lemoval, Mr. Thorpe supposed that a leaf had been lost from the book between the preceding line and this, which he believed to belong to the close of another poem. But surely there is a clear sequence «{ thought. 180 170 If every man Kept measme in mind With friend and with foe,- More force is in fate, In the Maker more might. Than in thought of a man. Let us look to the home Where in truth we can live. And then let us be thinking How thither to come : For then we too shall toil That our travel may reach To delight never ending, When life is made free In the love of the Lord In the height of the heavens ! May we thank the All Holy Who gave us this grace, — The Wielder of glorj-, The Lord everlasting, — In time without end 1 Amen. 200 210 Cynewulf s " Christ," of which tLe original open- ing is lost, begins for us wth praise of Chi-ist as the conier-stone that the buildei-s rejected, and with looking to Christ from the prison of this world. The poet then dwells on the mystery of the pure bii-th of the Savioiu', and pa.s.ses to a hymning of praise of the Vii-gin, '• the delight of women among all the hosts of heaven." The theme of the Nativity is ajv proached with an imagined diakigiie between Joseph and Mai-y, and passes again into a .strain of joyovLs hymning. In the one measure common to all Fii-st- English ]X)etiT, which I put into another form •without change of hLs thoughts, Cj'newulf sings his CALL FOK CHRIST. Come now, thou Lord of Victor}-, Creator of Mankind, Make manifest Thy tenderness in mercy to us here ! Need is there for us all in Thee thy ^lother's kin to find. Though to thy Father's mystery we cannot yet come near. Christ, Saviour, by Thy coming bless this earth of ours with love; The golden gates, so long fast barred, do Thou, O Heavenly King, Bid now unclose, that humbly Thou, descending from above. Seek us on earth, for we have need of blessing Thou canst 190 bring. With fangs of death the accursed woU hath scattered, Loid, the flock That with Thy blood, in time of old, O Master, thou hast bought ; He has us in fierce clutch ; we are his prey, his mock, He scorns our soul's desire ; wherefore, to Thee is all our thought. - Though written without break, the original is here defective, through some oversight of the copyist. 16 CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [a.d. 700' Thee, our Preserver, earnestly we jiray that Thou devise For sad exiles a speedy helj) ; let the dark spirit fall To depths of hell : but let thy -work, Creator, let man rise Justly to that high realm whence the Accursed ihew us all. Through love of sin he drew us that, bereft of heaven's light, We siiftiT endless miseries, betrayed for evermore. Unless Thou come to save us from the slayer. Lord of Might ! Shelter of 3Ian 1 Living God '. come soon, our need is sore ! ( 'niewiilf tlieu fontiniiinj; tlie theme of tlie Nativity with renewed ]u'nise of the Virgin, pa.sses to the lesiurection, the a.scensiou, tlie descent into hell, :ind liljeration of the sonls who there tnvaited the Ijord's coming; and he closes his poem with hymns of ]H-aise and thanksgi\ing to Gotl wlio gives us food ami all blessings of this life, the sun and moou, the dew and rain, the increase of the earth, and the salvation of the soul through Christ. Outside the Exeter and Yercelli Books, the most imjiortant First-English religious jioem is a fragment on the story of Judith, which, although a fragment, includes the part to whieli the poet gave his highest enei-gy, the slaying of Iloloferues, and the welcoming of Judith by the city she had saved. Tiiis jioem is in the same MS. which contains the great poem of Beowulf, not religious, but a record of the Northern The PsAiMlST. f ro.ii a Pmller oj Die Tenth Ccnlunj, CMInii MS. Tlhcriiis, C. vi. life of oiu- forefathers before they had received Chris- tianity. The place for some representation of Beowulf will be in the section of this Library that describes om- larger works in vei-se and prose. There are also Fii'st-English hymns and prayers in various MSS.,and a version of the Psalms, partly in prose, partly in vei-se. which from Rsulm li. to cl. belongs to the eighth century, and was, perhaps, by Aldhelm. I five one of these versified Psalms of I)a\id — the sixty-seventh — as an example of Fii-st English. FIRST-EXULISH MET URAL VERSION OF PSALM LXVII.^ Verse 1. Miltsa us, mihtig drihten, and us on mode eac gebletsa nu 1 beorhte leohte thiime andwlitan and us on ninde weorth thunih thine mycelnesse milde and blithe I 2. And we tha'S on enrthan andgyt habbath and I'ire wegaswide geond this werthcodc on thinre halo healdan motan. 3. Folc the andctte '. thvi cart fade tiod ; and the andetten calle theoda I 1 iVIilfsij, Be merciful. "Milts," mercy; " milts-ian," to pity, to- be gracious. Allied to the word "mild." — Mi}iiirerae father and ruler. — Ou vwde, in mind (mood). — Gchhtsa nu, bless now. — Beorhte, brightly; e, a case-ending, passed into adverbial sign. — Lc.'i/tfc, make shine. — Thinne andiditan, thy face "andwlita" = German " autlitz." It is a masculine noun ending iu a, and therefore of the first declension, which consists only of nouns- ending iu the vowels a or e, and is thus inflected— Silirj. Pill. Nom. Gen. ^ Dat. & Abl. S Ace. . N. -e Nom. & Ace. Gen. . Dat. & AM. -eua -um The 71C iu " thiunc " is the sign of the accusative masculine in iudefiu te adjectives and pronouns. Adjectives used definitely ire iuflectt I like the first declension of nouns, according to the form just given. If used indefinitely, they are inflected thus — Sinj. Nom „ (u) ,, Gen. -es -re -es Bat. -um -re -um Ace. -lie -e Abl. -c -re -e Nom &Acc. -e (ui Geu. -ra Dat. tAbl. -um Ph. irt'oW/i J become; "weorthau." to become, be. Tbe word is used in sucb P. phrase us "woe worth the day."— niurnh thine mycelnesse, through thy ( niickleuess ) erreatuess.— Th(Fs ( adverb ) , for this. — .^1 ndgyt, understandiug'.— TtV hahhath, we have, or shall have. There was no future tense iu Fii-st English ; the present represented it. -nf/t was the plui*al sig-n in tbe present indicative of verbs where the pro- noun preceded the verb, c if tlie pronouu followed. The present of *' habbau," to have, in which the r is formed by soft pronunciation of the h, shows the original softening: of tbe h into an /, which has since beeu softened out of existence altogether. Ic babbe or bcebbe = have; thu hcefst— ha(f)st ; he hsefth— halfltb ; we, ge or hi hab- bath, or habbe we, ge or hi. So iu the past " haefde " becomes "ha(f)d." — Vrc wcgas, our ways. "Weg," way, a masculine noun ending in a consonant, is of the second declensiou, which contains TO A.D. 8M).] EELIGION. 17 4. Hiebte thies gefein folca oeghwylc and blissicn bealde thcoju. thtcs the thu hi on rihtiun rajdiim demest and eoilhbuendi ealle healdest ! 5. Folc the andetten fa."lna diihten and the andetten ealle theoda '. 6. Ge him eorthe syleth icthele wa-stmc : gebletsige us blithe drihtcn and usic God eat bletsige I ha'bbc his egesan call eoithan gcma?iu ! The Gospels wei* read to the people in their own tongue as part of the Church service in First-English times, and we have seen that Bede, when he died, was bu-sj- upon translation of the Gospel of St. John. The First-EnglLsh Gospels ha\e come down to tis in several MSS., and were lirst printed after the iieformation, at the instance of Archbishop Matthew Parker. They were i>iiblislied in the year 1571, -with u'enerally all nouns eudiui; iu a consonant, the second declension is — Tlie form of inflexion for Stiiy. Norn. ,, (e Gen. -e^ -e -es Dat. & Abl. -e .e -e Ace. .. (e I -e ,, Plu. Nom. &Acc. -as -a Gen. -J -a -a Dat. & Abl. -urn -urn -um Tlie a.s in " wegas " is, it will he seen, the form of the nominative or accusative plural only in masculines of this declension. It is the .sole source of the modem English plural iu .s, though coincidence with the Jforman-French plural iu .^ favoured its exteusiou in modem Euslish to nouns of all classes. — ll'f'de, widely. The common use of r as an adverbial eudiusr in First English, and the subsequent resented a 3, softened sometimes to the sound of y, sometimes to a sound now represented by gh. " Thas werthei->de ; " "wer" (= Latin "vir"), man, is used in combination with " -theod," a people; "theod" eu'iiug in a consonant is of the second declension, and it is feminine, therefore (see the table given after the word "wegas"), it has an accusative suigular iu e ; *' thas." agreeing with its noun, is the accusative singular feminine of "this," a pronoun which was thus inflected (the second .f iu " tbissf " and " thisjwi " being a modified r). St II 3. Nom thes theu.s this Geu. thises thUse thises Dat. thisuni thisse tliisuin Ace. thisue thu^ this Abl. Nom i- Ace thise thisse thise Plu. tbaa Gen. thissa Dat. & Abl. thisum On thinre hfflo in thy health. '' HebIo," or " liEeln," is indeclinable Being feminine the pronoun — inflected like an adjective — takes the 67 a dedication to Queen Elizabeth. Tliere was another edition of them by Dr. Marshall, rector of Lincoln College, Oxford, published in 1G65, ^dth the Gotltic version given by Francis Junius; and in 1842 they were produced in a hand}- edition, carefully reedited from the original manuscripts by Benjamin Thorpe, who was in his day our most helpful worker at First English. Here is from the sixth chapter of Matthew THE lord's prayer IX FIRST ENGLISH : Fa?der ure, thi the eart on heofenum, si thin nama gehalgod. To-becunie thin riee. Geweorthe thin wiUa on eorthan, swa swa on heofenum. I.' me cUcghwamliean hlaf syle us to-dfeg. And forgj-f us ure gjltas, swa swa we forgifuth uruni gj-ltendum. And ne gelcede thu us on costnunge, ac alys us of ^-fle : Sothlice. Alcuin died in the year 801, and between the yeai-s 800 and 815, or about the time of the death of Alcuin, John Scotus Erigena was born. Whether born in Ireland, as is probable, or in Ayrshii-e as some say, he seems to have had in his veins some of that mixture of Celtic blood which gave audacity to thought. He found his way to the court of Charles the Bald, one of the sons of Alcuin's fiiend Charle- magne, and was there held in high esteem for wit. wisdom, and learning. He translated from Greek into Latin a book on the '• Hierarchies of Heaven," inflexion re. (See the form already given to explain "tliinne.") — HeaJdan moton, may be able to hold firm, or abide. " Healdan," to hold, fasten, &c. ; ** mot," meaning must, ought, can, was in fl ected thos in the present ; " ic mot, thu most, he mot ; we moton." In the past, " ic mdste, . . . wemoston." — Foic the andfffe, let the people (the foUr= German *' Volk") acknowledge thee. " Andetan," to confess; "andetues," a confession, a creed; " andettan," to confess, acknow- ledge, thank. — Fa^l, true, pure. — Gt'fea, joy, gladness. — JCyhirylc. every one. JEij- as a prefix means *' ever, always." (It is the word in the phrase "ever aud aye"). -hv:ylc (Scottish " whilk ") means which or what. — Folca, of the peoples (see form of the second declen- sion, given to explain "wegas"). — Blissian, to rejoice, be glad, — Beald and bald, bold, high-spirited. — Theod being feminine, its nominative plm^l is in a. — Hugs the, for this that ; thu, hi, thou, them : " the " here is indeclinable. ** He, she, it " was declined — Ge- Sing. Nom, he hed hit Gen his hire his Dat. him hire him Ace. hine heo hit V Plu. Nom. i Ace hi, lug Gen. hira (heora* Dat. & Abl. him (heom) usic. These were inflexions of " thou " and ' I"— Sing. Nom. ic thu Gen miu thin Dat. & Abl. me the Ace. me (mec( the (thee) Dwal (used only in First-English for these pronoim Nom. wit git Gen. uncer incer Dat. & Abl. unc inc Ace. unc inc Pill. Nom. we ge Gen. ure edwer Dat. & Abl. us edw Ace. lis (usic) edw SyUan, to give; oethel, noble; actpstm. fmit : egesa, awe; gemore et Sanguine Domini," was in the form of a letter to Charles the Bald, said in the first printed edition of the work (at Cologne in 1532) to be Charlemagne, who had asked the monk for his opinion on the mystery of the sacrament. The doctrine of this little work is precisely followed by .Safric when he speaks of the mystery of the housell, and in some parts the English Homilist is little more than a translator ; but of that considerable part of the English sermon which treats of the Paschal Lamb there is, of course, nothing in the treatise of Eatramnus, and when .a;lfric comes to take the argimient of Eatramnxis on the real presence he is repeating it in his-own way more briefly, and with freshness of manner. Eatramnus quoted authorities iu some detail — Augtistiue, Isidore, Ambrose, Jerome ; thus sheltering liimself against attack on the ground of heresy, and so effectuaUy, that— although afterwards assailed— he was in his own time appointed by the French Church to reply to the attacks of Photius upon the Catholic faith. ^If ric, exposed to no such danger, simply adopted the view of the French monk, and gave iu a homily the pith of the treatise of Eatramnus as the doctrine of the English Chiu-ch upon the Euchai-ist. It may be added that this treatise of Eatramnus, " De Corpore et Sanguine Domini," first printed in 15.32, had attracted the attention of Enghsh refonuei-3 before Matthew Parker caused the translation of .EKric's Easter- Day Sermon. An English translation of Eatraimius, by Sir Hiun- phrey Lynde, was " Imprynted at London in sayut Andrewes paryshe in the waredi-opt, by Thomas Eaynalde and Anthony Kyngstone," entitled " The Boke of Barthram Priest intreatinge of the bodye and bloude of Christ, wr-yten to greate Charles the Emjierour, and set forth vii.C. years agoo, and Imprinted An. dni. M.D.XLviii." ^Vhen the argimient between the Churches was again pressing, iu the reign of James II., two years before the English Eevolution, there was produced by William Hopkins, Prebend of Worcester, "The Book of Bertram, or Eatramnus. Priest and Monk of Corbey, concerning the Body and Blood of the Lord, in Latine : With a New English Trans- lation, more esact than the fonner. Also. An Historical Dissertation concerning the Author and this Work ; wherein both ai'e vindicated from the Exceptions of the Writers of the Church of Eome." Tlus version was made by Hopkins in 1681. It was pubUshed m 1686. The Dissertation was by Dr. Peter AUix. OASSELL'S LIBRAEY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [A.D. 990. Sa.xon tjiie.s, and tliis Easter sei-mon of .^Ifiics having been translated was printed by him, the oi-iginal text and transhition upon opposite pages, in the year 1567, wth a preface by J. Josseline, wluch dwelt on the archbishop's reason for givmg it piiblicitj-. The preface, in supplying some account of iElfric, distinguishes the author of the Grammai- and of the Houulies. whom he finds always caUed " Abbot," from .■Elfric, Archbishop of Canterbury, wliile admitting that they might be the same person. He says—" Truly this ^-Elfric we here speak of w;xs equal in time to -Elfrio, ArchbLshop of Canterbury, as may certainly apj.ear to him that vnW j.ye\\ con- sider, when Wulfstan. Archbishop of York, and Wulfsine, Bishop of Sherborne, lived, unto whom ^Ifric m-iteth the Saxon epistles from which the woi-ds concerning the Sacrament hereafter foUowmg te taken.' And the certainty of this consideration may well l->e had out of William of Jlalmesbmy 'De Poiitihcibiis,' and out of the subscription of bishops to the grants, lettere patents, and chartei-s of ^ilthel- rede, who reigned king of England at this time. How- beit whether this ,i:rfricke and .Elfricke Archbisho]) of Canterbury was but one and the same man, I leave it to other men's judgments fiu-ther to consider: for that, -m-iting liere to Wulfstane, he nameth him- self but Abljot, and yet .^ilfricke, Archbishop of Can- terbury, was promoted to his archbishop's stole six yeai-s before that Wulfstane was made Archbishop of York." It is evident that ArchbLshop Matthew Parker separated Abbot ^Ifric, the author, gi-am- marian, and homilist, from that ^Ifric who was in the abbot's time ArchbLshop of Canterbury. The prefoce to the translation of ^Ifric's "Sermon on the Sacrament " was followed by a wan-anty for it, signed by the two archbishops and thirteen bishops of the English Church, " with divei-s other pei-son- ages of honom- and credit subscribing their names, the record whereof remains in the hands of the most reverend father Matthew, Archbishop of Canter- bury." This is the sermon : — E.\STER-D.\Y. fiERMOX of the Paschal Lamb, and of the fiaerdiiientiil Body and Blood of Christ our Siirioar, uritten in the old Saxon Tongue before the Conquest, and appointed in the reign of the Saxons to be spoken unto the People at Easter before they should receive the Communion, and now first translated into our common English speech. Men beloved, it hath hcon often said unto you about our Saviour's Resiurection, how he on this present day, after his suffering, mightily rose from death. Now wOl we open unto you through God's grace, of the holy housell,' which ye ' These passages, with " the Lord's Prayer, the Creed, and the Ten Commandments, in the Sason and English Tongue," were given as an appendix to the Sermon. 2 Initial from a SIS. of Bede's History. Cotton. MSB., Tiherins, C.ii. * K'niseU (First-English " hiisl ;" Icelandic " hiisl "), the sacrament. The word was disnsed after the Reformation, but was familiar until then, and although of Teutonic origin, had never been applied to should now go unto, and instruct your understanding about this mystorj", both after the old covenant, and also after the new, that no doubting may trouble you about this lively food. • ■ 1 1 The Almighty God bade Moses, his captam m the land of Egj-pt. to command the people of Israel to take for every family a lamb of one year old, the night they departed out of the country to the Land of Promise, and to offer the lamb to God, and'after to kiU it, and to make the sign of the cross with the lamb's blood upon the side-posts and the upper posts of their door, and afterwards to cat the lamb'* flesh roasted, and unleavened bread -n-ith wild lettuce. God saith unto Moses, Eat of the lamb nothing raw, nor sodden in water, but roasted with fire. Eat the he.ad, and the feet, and the inwards, and let nothing of it be left tUl the morn- ing : if an>-thing thereof remain, that shall you bum with fire. Eat it in this wise. Gird your loins, and do your shoes on your feet, have your staves in your hands, and eat it in haste. This time is the Lord's passover. And there was slain on that night in every house throughout Pharaoh's reign, the firstborn child : and God's people of Israel were delivered from the sudden death through the Umb's offering, and his blood's marking. Then said God unto Moses, Keep this day in your remembrance, and hold it a great feast in youi- kindreds with a perpetual observation, and eat un- leavened bread always at this feast. After this deed God led the people of Israel over the Ked Sea with drj- foot, and drowned therein Pharaoh, and aU his army, together with their possessions, and fed afterwards the Israelites forty ve.ars with heavenly food, and gave them water out of the hard rock, until they came to the promised hind. Part of this story we have treated in another place, part we shall now deckire, to wit, that which belongeth to the holy housell. Christian men may not now keep that old law bodily; but it beho veth them to know what it ghostly * signitieth. That innocent lamb which the old IsraeUtes did then kill, had signification .after ghostly understanding of Chinst's sufliering, who unguilty shed his holy blood for our redemption. Hereof sing God's servants at everj- ma.ss : '• Agnus Dei, qxii tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis." That is in our speech. Thou Lamb of God, that takest away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us. Those Israelites were delivered from that sudden death, and from Pharaoh's bondage, by the lamb's offering, which signified Christ's suffer- ing : through which we be delivered from everlasting death, and from the deWl's cruel reign, if we rightlj' bcUevc in the true redeemer of the whole world, Christ the Sa\-iour. That lamb was offered in the evening, and our Sa\'iour suffered in the si.xth age of this world. I'his age of this corruptible world is reckoned unto the evening. They marked with the lamb's blood upon the doors, and the upper po.sts Tau," that is the sign of the cross, and were so defended from the angel that killed the Egyptians' fii-st-bom cliild. And we ought to mark our foreheads and our bodies' with the token of heathen sacrifices. The Mcesogothic in Uliilas is " hunsl," an offer- ing; "hunsljan," to otfer; " hunslastaths," the altar. The word "honsell" is used in "Hamlet," act i., sc. 5: — " Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, rnhoxsel'ij. disappointed, imaneled." ♦ Gho^hj, spiritually ; First-English, " gdst," the breath, a spirit. So the Holy Ghost = the Holy Spirit. 5 Here Matthew Parker's translator of .SUfric's sermon adds a side- note — *' No such sign commanded by God in tliat place of Scripture, but it was the blood that God did look upon."— Exod. sii. 23. « " Understand this as that of St. Paul (Ephe. 2). Christ reconciled both to God in one body through his cross." Side-note of the Eliza- bethan translator. A.D. 990.] EELIGION. 23 Christ's rood, that we may he also delivered from destruction, when we shall he marked hoth on forehead and also in heart with the blood of our Lord's suffering. Those Israelites ate the lamb's flesh at their Easter time, when they were deli- vered, and we receive ghostly Christ's body, and diink his blood, when we receive with true belief that holy housell. That time they kept -n-ith them at Easter seven days with great worship, when they were delivered from Pharaoh and went from that land. So also Christian men keep Christ's resurrection at the time of Easter these seven days, because through his sullering and rising we be delivered, and be made clean by going to this holy housell, as Chiist saith in his gospel, Verily, verily, I say unto you, ye have no life in you except ye eat my flesh and drink my blood. He that oattth my flesh and drinketh my blood, abideth in me, and I in him, and hath that everlasting life : and I shall raise him up in the last day. I am the Hvely bread, that came down fiom heaven, not so as your forefathers ate that heavenly bread in the wilderness, and afterward died. He that eatcth this bread, he liveth for ever. He blessed bread before his suffer- ing, and divided it to his disciples, thus sa\Tng, Eat this bread, it is my body, and do this in my remembrance. Also he blessed wine in one cup, and said, Drink ye all of this. This is my blood, that is shed for many, in forgiveness of sins. The Apostles did as Christ commanded, that is, they blessed bread and wine to housell again afterwards in his remembi'ance. Even so also since their departure all priests by Christ's commandment do bless bread and wine to housell in his name with the Apostolic blessing. Xow men have often searched, and do yet often search, how bread that is gathered of com, and thi-ough tii'e's heat baked, may be turned to Christ's body ; or how wine that is pressed out of many grapes is turned through one blessing to the Lord's blood. Now say we to such men, that some things be spoken of Christ by signification, some thing by thing certain. True thing is and certain, that Christ was bom of a maid, and suffered death of his own accord, and was buried, and on • this day rose from death. He is said bread by signification, and a lamb, and a Uon, and a mountain. He is caUed brejid, because he is our life and angels' life. He is said to be a lamb for his innocency, a lion for strength, wherewith he overcame the strong de^-il. But Christ is not so, notwith- standing, after true nature : neither bread, nor a lamb, nor a lion. \\'hy is then that holy housell called Christ's body or his blood, if it be not truly that it is called ? Truly the bread and the wine, which by the mass of the priest is hallowed, shew one thing without to human understanding, and another tiling they call within to belie\-ing minds. Without they be seen bread and wine, both in figure and in taste : and they be truly after their hallowing, Christ's body, and his blood through ghostly mystery. An heathen child is chris- tened, yet he altereth not his shape without, though he be changed within. He is brought to the font-stone sinful through Adam's disobedience. Howbeit he is washed from all sin within, though he hath not changed his shape \^■ithout. Even so the holy font-water, that Is called the well-spring of life, is like in .shape to other waters, and is subject to coiTup- tion ; but the Holy Ghost's might cometh to the corrujrtible water, through the priest's blessing, and it may after wash the body and soul from all sin through ghostly might. Behold now we see two things in this one creature. After true nature that water is corruptible water, and after ghostly mysterj-, hath hallowing might. So also if we behold that holy housell after bodily undei-standing, then see we that it is a creature corruptible and mutable ; if we acknowledge therein ghostly might, then understand we that life is therein, and that it giveth immortality to them that eat it ■with belief. Much is betwixt the invisible might of the holy housell and the visible shape of his proper nature. It is' natu- rally corruptible bread and coiTuptible wine, and is by might of God's word, truly Christ's body and his blood : not so notwithstanding bodily, but ghostly. JIuch is betwixt the body Christ suffered in, and the body that is hallowed to housell. The body truly that Christ suffered in was bom of the flesh of ilary, ^^ith blood and with bone, with skin and with sinews, in human limbs, with a reason- able soul li\ing ; and his ghostly body, which we call the housell, is gathered of many corns : without blood and bone, without limb, without soul. And therefore nothing is to be understand therein bodily, but all is ghostly to be under- stand." "Whatsoever is in that housell, wiiich giveth sub- stance of life, that is of the ghostly might and invisible doing. Therefore is that holy housell called a mystery, because there is one thing in it seen, and another thing understanded. That which is there seen hath bodily shape, and that we do there understand hath ghostly might. Cer- ' tainly Christ's body, which suffered death and rose from j death, never dieth henceforth, but is eternal and unpassible. That housell is temporal, not eternal. Corruptible, and dealed between sundry parts. Chewed between teeth, and sent into the belly : howbeit nevertheless, after ghostly might, it is all in every part. JIany receive that holy body : and yet, notwithstanding, it is so all in every part after ghostly mystery. Though some chew less deal,^ yet is there no more might notwithstanding in the more pai't than in the less : because it is in all men after the in\isible might. This mystery is a pledge and a figui-e : Christ's body is truth itself. This pledge we do keep mystically, until that we be come to the truth it.self : and then is this pledge ended. Truly it is so, as we have before s;iid, Christ's body and his blood — not bodUy, but ghostly. -Vnd ye should not seai-eh how it is done, but hold it in your belief that it is so done. We read in another book called I'itrc Patrum* that two monks desired of God some demonstration touching the holy housell, and after as they stood to hear mass, they saw a child hing on the altar, where the priest said mass, and God's angel stood with a sword, and abode looking until the priest brake the housell. Then the angel di\ided the child upon the dish, and shed his blood into the chalice. But when they did go to the housell, then it was turned to bread and wine, and they did eat it, gi\ing God thanks for that shewing. Also St. Gregory desii-ed of Christ that he would shew to a cei-tain woman, doubting about his mysterj-, some great affirmation. She went to housell with doubting mind, and Gregory forthwith obtained of God, that to them both was shewed that part of the housell which the woman should receive, as if there lay in a dish a joint of a finger all he-blooded, and so the woman's doubting was then forth- with healed. 1 " No transnbstantiation." Side-note of the Elizabethan translator, who to the foUowinsr sentences joins these side-notes: "Dilferences hetwirt Christ's nattu-al body and the sacrament thereof." 1. " Dif- ference. Not the body that suffered is in the housell." 2. "Differ- ence." 3. "Difference." 4. "Difference." 5. ••Difference" 2 To l»c xuiti>:rstani. This is eqmvalent to Kiidt'rjrfrtudf J, the form used four lines lower. Pinal cii in verbs eudius with a root-vowel in d or t was commonly unpronouuced, and then often omitted in writing. The translator uses also in a later passage the past form " understood " (page H, just below the middle of col. 1.) 3 Less a«al = less part. First-English ••dse'l," a part, or portion, as in " the deal " at cards, from •' daelan," to divide, or portion out. * " These tales seem to be iuforced." Note of Elizabethan trans- lator. (r7i/orccd = stuffed in; from French '• farcer," whence force- meat— stuffing.) 24 CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [a.d. 900 But now hear the apostle's words about this mystery. Paul the apostle spoakcth of the old IsraeUtes thus, writing in his epistle to faithful men : .rUl om- forefathers were baptised in the eloud and in the sea, and all they ate the same ghostly meat and (hank the Siime ghostly di'ink. They drank truly of the stone that followed them, and that stone was Clirist. Neither was that stone then from which the water ran bodily Christ, but it signified Christ, that ealleth thus to all believing and faithful men : Whosoever thirsteth let hira come to me, and drink : and from liis bowels iloweth living water. This he said of the Holy Ghost, whom he rceeiveth which belicvcth on him. The apostle Paul saith that the Israelites did eat the same ghostly meat, and ih-ink the same ghostly di'ink : because that heavenly meat that fed them forty years, and that water which from the stime did flow, had signification of Clmsfs body, and his blooxl, that now be offered daily in (iod's Church. It was the same which we now offer ; not bodily, but ghostly. We said unto you erewhile. that Christ hal- lowed bread and wine to houscll before his suffering, and sjiid : This is my body and my blood. Yet he had not tlien suffered ; but so notwitlistanding he turned thi-ough invisible might that bread to his own body, and that \\-ine to his blood, as he before did in the wilderness before that he was born to men, when he tui-ned that heavenly meat to his flesh, and the flowing water from tliat stone to his own blood. Very many ate of that heavenly meat in the wUderuess, and drank that ghostly drink, and were nevertheless dead, as Christ said. And Christ meant not that death which none can escape: but tliat everlasting death, which some of that folk deserved for their unbelief. Moses and Aaron, and many other of that people which pleased God, ate of that heavenly bread, and they died not that everlasting death, though they died the common death. They saw that the heavenly meat was \'isible, and corruptible, and they gho.stly understood by that visible thing, and ghostly received it. The Saviour sayeth : He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath everlasting- life. And he bade them not eat that body which he was going about with, nor that blood to drink whicli he shed for us : but he meant with those words that holy housell, whicli ghostly is his body and his blood : and he that tastcth it witli believing heart, hath that eternal life. In the old law faithful men offered to God divers sacrifices that liad fore- signification of Christ's body, which for our sins he himself to his heavenly Father hath since offered to sacrifice. Cer- tiiinly this housell which we do now hallow at God's altar is a remembrance of Chi-ist's body which he oft"ered for us, and of his blood which he shed for us : so he himself commanded. Do this in my rememliranee. Once suffered Christ by him- self, but yet nevertheless his suifering is daily renewed at the mass thi-ough mystery of the holy liousell. Therefore that holy mass is profitable both to the living and to the dead, as it hath been often declared. M'e ought also to consider diligently how that this holy houseU is both Christ's body and the body of all faithful men after ghostly mystery. As the wise Augustine sayeth of it. If ye will understand of Christ's body, hear the apostle Paul thus speaking : Kow is your mystery set on God's table, and ye receive your mysteiy, which mystery ye yourselves be. Be that which ye see on the altar, and receive that which ye yourselves be. Again the apostle Paul saith by it : We many be one bread and one body. Understand now and rejoice, many be one bread and one body in Christ. He is our head, and we be his limbs. And the bread is not of one corn, but of many. Nor the vrine of one giape, but of many. .So also we all should have one unity in our Lord, as it is mitten of the faithful ai-niy, how that they were in so great an uuitv : as though .-ill of them were one soul and one heart. Chi'ist hallowed on his table the mystery of our peace, and of our unity : he whicli receiveth that mystery of unity, and keepeth not the bond of true peace, he receiveth no mystery for himself, but a witness against himseU'. It is very good for Christian men that they go often to housell, if they bring with them to the altar miguiltiness and innocency of heart. To an evil man it tuineth to no good, but to destruction, if he receive unworthily tliat holy houseU. Holy books command that water be mingled to that wine which shall be for housell : because the water signifieth the people, and the wine Christ's blood. And therefore shaU neither the one without the other be offered at the holy mass : that Christ may be with us, and we with Clu-ist : the head with the limbs, and the limbs with the head. We woidd before have intreated of the lamb which the old Israehtes offered at their Easter time, but that we desired first to declare unto you of this mystery, and after how wc should receive it. That signifying lamb was offered at the Easter. And the apostle Paul sayeth in the epistle of this present day, that Chiist is oui- Easter, who was offered for us, and on the third day rose from death. The Israelites did cat the lamb's flesh as God commanded with unleavened bread and wild lettuce : so we should receive that holy housell of C'hrist's body and blood without the leaven of sin and iniquity. As leaven tumeth the crcatiu'es from their nature : ' so doth sin also change the nature of man from innocency to foul spots of guiltiness. The apostle hath taught how we should feast not in the leaven of evilness, but in the sweet dough of purity and truth. The herb which they should cat with the unleavened bread is called lettuce, and is bitter in taste. So we should with bitterness of unfeigned weeping purify our mind, if we will eat Christ's body. Those Israehtes were not wont to eat raw flesh, although God forbad them to eat it raw, and sodden in water, but roasted in tire. He shall receive the body of God raw that shall think without reason that Christ was only man, like unto us, and was not God. And he that wiU after man's wisdom search of the mystery of Chi'ist's incarnation, doth like unto him that doth seethe lamb's flesh in water : because that water in this same pkice signifieth man's understanding : but we should understand that all the mystery of Christ's humanity was ordered by the power of the Holy Ghost. And then eat we liis body roasted with fire ; because the Holy Ghost came in fiery likeness to the apostles in diverse tongues. The Israelites should cat the lamb's head, and the feet, and the purtenance : and notliing thereof must be left overnight. If anything thereof were left, they did burn that in the fire ; and they brake not the bones. After ghostly understanding we do then eat the lamb's head, when we take hold of Christ's divinity in our belief. Again, when we take hold of his humanity with love, then eat we the lamb's feet; because that Christ is the beginning and end, God before all world, and man in the end of this world. What be the lamb's purtenance, but Christ's secret precepts, and these wc eat when we receive with greediness the Word of Life. There must nothing of the lamb be left unto the morning, because that all God's sayings are to be searched with great carefulness : so that all his precepts may be known in under- standing and deed in the night of this present life, before that the last day of the universal resurrection do appear. If we cannot search out thoroughly all the mystery of Christ's incarnation, then ought we to betake ' the rest unto the might of the Holy Ghost with true humility : and not to search ' Bi'(u;.T (First-English, " Ijetffioau "), to commit, assign, i)ut in trust. TO «.D. 1000.] RELIGION. rashly of that deep seeretiiejs above the measure of our understanding. They did eat the lamb"s flesh with their loins gii-t. In the loins is the lust of the body. And he which shall receive the housell, shall restrain that concupi- scence and take -witli chastity that holy receipt. They were also shod. Mliat hi- shoes but of the hides of dead beasts 'r Wc be truly shod if we follow in our steps and deeds the life of those pilgrims which please God with keeping- of his com- mandments. They had staves in theu' hands when they ate. This staff signifieth a carefulness and a diligent overseeing. And all they that best know and can, should take care of other men, and stay them up with their help. It was enjoined to the eatere that they shoidd eat the lamb in haste. For God ablioiTeth slothfulness in his servants. And those he loveth that seek the joy of everlasting Ufe with quickness and haste of mind. It is written : Prolong not to turn unto God, lest the time pass away thi'ough thy slow tarrying. The eaters mought not break the lamb's bones. No more mought the soldiers that did hang Christ break his holy legs, as they did of the two tliieves that hanged on either side of him. And the Lord rose from death sound without all corruption : and at the last judgment they shall see him, whom they ilid most cruelly hang on the cross. This time is called in the Hebrew tongue iVsrw, and in Latin Traiisil/is, and in I^nglish I'a.isotvr : because that on this day the pi'ople of Israel passed from the land of Egj-pt over the Red Sea : from bonikige to the land of promise. So also did An EviMiKLIST. (Frnm 111.' rnfloii. .".f S . Tihcvius, C. vi.) our Lord at this time depart, as sayetli John the Evangelist, from this world to his heavenly Father. Even so we ought to follow our head, and to go from the dei-il to Christ ; from tills unstable world to his stable kingdom. Howbeit we should tirst in this present life depart from vice to holy virtue, fi-om evil maimers to good manners, if we will after this corruptible life go to that eternal life, and after our 68 resurrection to Christ. He brings us to his everlasting Father, who gave him to death for our sins. To Him be honour, and praise of well doing, world without end. Amen 1 ' Of ^^SltVic's other .series of Homilies, written to expliiLii wliiit was celebrated on the saints' daj's, one of the most interesting is that for St. Gregory's Day, the 12th of March, an old telling of the old tale of the manner in which missionaries from Rome came to convert the English. A translation of this sermon was published in 1709, by EUzabeth Elstol), who, at the suggestion of Dr. Hickes, began a complete translation of the Homilies of ^Ifric, which was stopped by private troubles. Unpublished sheets of it are in the British Museum. She had become learned that she might be companion in his studies to her brother, who was of weak health, his com- l)anion and helper even when he was student at Oxford, and afterwards in his City parsonage. He died in 1714, and in the same year she lost a friend also in Queen Anne; but in the following year .she published an Anglo-Saxon Gi-ammar. Miss Elstob was very poor, and set up a little school at Evesham. At last she became governess in the family of the Duchess of Portland, who gave ease to her old age. This is Elizabeth Elstob's version of .ELFRIC'S HOMILY ON ST. GREGORY'S DAY. Gregory the Holy Father, the apostle of the English nation, on this present day, after manifold labours and dirine studies, happily ascended to God's kingdom. He is rightly called the apostle of the English people, inasmuch as he thi-ough his counsel and commission rescued us from the worship of the de-s-il, and converted us to the belief of God. Many holy books speak of his illustrious conversation and his pious life ; among these the History of England, which King Alfred translated from the Latin into English. This book speaketh plainly enough of this holy man. Neverthe- less we wUl now say something in few words concerning him ; because the aforesaid book is not known to you all, although it is translated into English. This blessed" Father Gregory was bom of noble and religious parents. His ancestors were of the lioman nobility, his father called Gordianus, and Felix that pious bishop was his fifth father. He was, as we have said, in respect of the world, nobly descended : but he adorned, and exceeded his high birth, with a holy conversation and good works. Gregory is a Greek name, which signifies in the Latin tongue VigUantius, that is in English AVatchful. He was verj- diligent in God's conunandments, whUe he himself lived mo.st devoutly, and he was earnestly concerned for promoting the advantage of many nations, and made known unto them the way of life. He was from his childhood instructed in the knowledge of books, and he so prosperously succeeded in his studies, that in aU the city of Rome there was none esteemed to be like him. He was most diligent in following the example of his teachers, and not forgetful, but fixed his learning in a retentive memory. He sucked in with a thirsty desire the 1 " This sermon is found in diverse bookes of sermon written in the Olde Enslishe or Saxon touutre ; whereof two bookes bee nowe in the liandes of the most reverend father the Archbishop of Cauterburye." — Appended Note of the Elizabetlian Translator, 26 CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [a.d. g*.* flowing loaniing, which he often, after some time, with a throat sweeter than lioney, and with an agreeable eloquence, poureJ out. In his younger years, when his youth might naturally make liini love the things of this world, then began he to dedicate liimseLf to Uod, and with all his desires to breathe after the ijiheritauce of a heavenly life. For after his father's departure he erected six monasteries iu SicUy; and the seventh he built in the city of Kome ; in which ho himself lived as a regular, under the government of the abbot. These seven monasteries lie adorned with his own substance, and i)lentifidly endowed them for their daily subsistence. The remainder of his estate he bestowed on (lod's jjoor; and he exchanged liis nobility of birth for heavenly glory, lie was used before his conversion to pass ulong the city of Kome in gannents of silk, sparkling with gems, and adorned with rich embroidery of gold and red. But after his conversion' he ministered to God's poor, and himself took upon him the profession of poverty in a mean habit. So perfectly did he behave himself at the beginning of his conversion, that ho might hereafter be reputed in the number of perfect saints. He observed much abstinence in meat and drink, in watching, and in frequent devotions. He suffered, moreover, continual indisposition of body, and the more severely he was oppressed with his present infirmities, the more earnestly did he desire eternal life. Then the Pope whicli at that time sat in the Apostolic See, when he per- ceived that the holy Gregory was greatly increased in spu'itual virtues, ho took liim from conversing with monks, and ai)pointed liim to be his assistant, having ordained liim a deacon. It happened at some time, as it often doth, that some Englisih merchants brought their merchandizes to Kome : and Gregory passing along the street to the Englishmen taking a view of theii- goods, he there beheld amongst their merchandizes slaves set out to sale. They were white complexioned, and men of fair countenance, having noble heads of hair. And Gregor)-, when he saw the beauty of the yoimg men, enquired from what country they were brought ; and the men said from England, and that all the men in that nation were as beautiful. Then Gregory asked them whether the men of that land were Christians, or heathens ; and the men said unto him they were heathens. Gregory then fetching a long sigh from the very bottom of his heart, said, Alas I alas ! that men of so fair a complexion should bo' subject to the prince of darkness. After that, Gregory enquired how they called the nation from whence they came. To which he was answered, that they were caUed Angle (that is, English). Then said he, Kightly they are called Angle, because they have the beauty of angels, and therefore it is very fit that they should be the companions of angels in heaven. Yet stiU Gregory enquired what the shire was named from which the young men were brought. It was told him that the men of that shire were called Dciri. Gregory answered. Well they are called Deiri, because they are delivered from wrath and caUed to the mercy of Christ. Yet again he enquired what was the name of the king of their pro\-ince ; he was answered, that the king's name was .a^lla. Therefore (Gregory playing upon the words in aUusion to the name, said. It is fit that Hallelujah be sung in that land in praise of the Almighty Creator. Gregory then went 1 Conversion from life in the world to life in the monastery. Con- version simply means a change from one state to another. We can convert (fold into paper; and here a Roman prsetor with money at command is converted into a monk vowed to poverty. Conversion from one tonn of relisrious belief to another, though the sense in which the word is commonly used hy wxiters on reUgion, is by no means the one sense to which the word is limited. to the bishoi) of the apostolical see, and desired him that ho would send some instructors to the English people, that they might be converted to Christ by the grace of God : and sjiid that he himself was ready to undertake that work, if the Pope should think it fit. But the Pope could not consent to it, although he altogether approved of it ; because the lioman citizens would not suffer so worthy and learned a doctor to leave the city quite, and take so long a pilgrimage. After this it happened that a great plague came upon thi- Konian people, and first of all seized upon Pope Pelagiua, and without dchiy took him oft'. Moreover, after the death of this Pope, the destruction was so great among the people, that everywhere throughout the citj' the houses stood desolate, and without inhabitants. Nevertheless it was not fit that the Koman city should be without a bishop. But all the people unanimously chose the holy Gregory to that honour, although he with all his power opposed it. Then Gregory sent an epistle to JIauricius the emperor, to whose child he had stood godfather, and earnestly desired and bcseeched him, that he woidd never suffer the people to exalt him to the glory of that high promotion, because he feared that he, through the greatness of the charge and the worldly glory which he had some time before renounced, might again be ensnared. But the emperor's high marshal Germanus intercepted the letter and tore it in pieces, and afterwards told the cmi)eror that all the people had chosen Gregorj- to be Poi)c. Then JIauricius the emperor retume^d thanks to Almighty God for this, and gave orders for his consecration. But Gregory betook himself to flight, and lay hid in a cave. Nevertheless they found him out, and canied him by force to .St. Peter's Church, that he might there be consecrated to the popedom. Then Gregory, before his consecration, by reason of the increasing pestilence, exhorted the Roman people to repentance in these words : " My most beloved brethren, it bchoveth us, that that rod of God which we ought to have dreaded, when wr only expected it would be laid upon us, should now at least raise in us some concern when it is present and we have felt it. Let our grief open us a way to a true conversion, and let that punishment which we endure break the hardness of our hearts. Behold now this people is slain with the sword of heavenly anger, and each of them one by one is destroyed by a sudden slaughter. Eor th(^ disease does not go before death, but you see that each man's death prevents the lingering of a disease. The slain are seized by death before they can have an opportunity of sighing and lamentation, to express their sincere repentance. AVhercfore let each man take care how he comes into the presence of the mighty Judge, who wOl not bewail the evil which he has perfonncd. (Almost) all the dwellers upon earth are taken away, and their houses stand empty. Fathers and mothers stand over the dead bodies of their children, and their heirs step before them to death. Let us earnestly betake ourselves to lamentation with true repent- ance now while we may, before this dreadful slaughter strike us. Let us call to mind whatever errors we have been guilty of, and oh I let us do penance with tears for that which we have done amiss. Let us reconcile God's favour to us by confessing om- sins, as the prophet wameth us, ' Let us lift up our hearts with our hands unto God ; ' that is, that we ought to lift up [or present] the sincerity of om- devotions with an eai-nost of good works. He givcth you confidence in your fear, who speaks to you by his prophet : ' I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked should turn from his way and live.' Let not any man despair of himself for the greatness of his sin, forasmuch as the old guilt of the people of Nineveh was expiated by their three days' repent- ance : and the penitent thief by his dying words attained to I TO A.D. 1000.] EELIGIOK the reward of eternal life. let us then turn our hearts to God ; speedily is the Judge inclined to our petitions, if we from our perversenesa be set straight. let us stand with earnest lamentations ai^inst the threatening sword of so great a judgment. Certainly perseverance is pleasing to the just Judge, although it is not gr.iteful to men : hecause the righteous and merciful God will have us ^\-ith earnest petitions to request his mercy, and he will not so much as we deser^-c he angry with us. Of this he speaketh by his prophet : ' Call upon me in the day of thy trouble, and I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me.' God himself is his own witness, that he vnR have compassion on him that calleth on him; who admonishes us, that it is our duty to call upon him. For this cause, my most dearly beloved brethren, let us come together on the fourth day of this week early in the morning, and with a devout mind, and with tears, sing seven Litanies, that our angrj' Judge may spare us, when he seeth that we ourselves take vengeance on our sins." So that whilst the whole multitude, as well of the priestly order, and of the monastic, as of the laity, according to the command of the holy Gregory, were come on the Wednesday to the seven- fold Litany, the aforesaid pestilence raged so fast, that four- Death and Burial.* From a MS. of £lfnc'& ParaphrasA oj the Pentateuch and Jof^hua. Cotton. MSS., Claudius, B. iv. score men departed this transitory life at the very instant the people were singing the Litany. But the holy priest did not cease to advise the people not to desist from their supplica- tions, until that God's mercy should assuage the raging plague. In the meantime Gregor)-, since he took upon him the popedom, called to mind what he formerly had thought of, concerning the English nation, and finished that most beloved work. Nevertheless he might not on any ac- count be altogether absent from the Roman bishop's see. "Whereupon he sent other messengers, approved ser\-ants of (iod, to this island, and he himself, by his manifold prayers and e-vhortations, brought it to pass, that the preaching of these messengers went abroad, and bore fruit to God. The messengers were thus named: Augustinus, JleUitus, Laurentius, Petrus, Johannes. Justus. These doctors the holy pope Gregory sent, with many other monks, to the ' This sketch shows the mnnner amon^ the First English of swathing the dead for burial. The face was left for a time uncovered, then the fold was passed over it, and the body went down thus into the prave. English people, and he persuaded them to the voyage in these words : " Be not ye afraid through the fatigue of so long a journey, or through what wicked men may discourse concerning it : but ^vith all stedfastness and zeal, and earnest affection, by the grace of God, perfect the work ye have begun; and be ye assured, that the recompense of your eternal reward is so much greater, by how much the greater difficulties you have undergone in fulfilling the wUl of God. Be obedient mth all humility in all things to Augustine, whom we have set over you to be your abbot. It -n-iU be for your souls' health, so far as ye fulfil his admonitions. Almighty God through his grace protect you, and grant that I may behold the fruit of your labour in the eternal reward, and that I nuiy be found together with you in the joy of your reward. Because although I cannot labour with you, yet I have a goodwill to share with you in your labour." Augustine then with his companions, which are reckoned to be about forty, that journeyed with him by Gregory's command, proceeded on their journey until they arrived prosperously in this island. In those days reigned king JEthelbjTht in the city of Canterbury, whose kingdom was stretched from the great river Humber to the south sea. Augustine had taken interpreters in the kingdom of the Franks, as Gregory had ordered him ; and he, by the mouths of the interpreters, preached God's word to the king and his people, ™., how our merciful Saviour by his own sufferings redeemed this guilty world, and to all that believe hath opened an entrance into the kingdom of heaven. Then king .lEthelbjTht answered Augustine, and said, thjjt those were fair words and promises which he gave him : but that he could not so suddenly leave the ancient customs which he and the English people had held. He said, he might freely preach the heavenly doctrine to his people, and that he would allow maintenance to him and his companions : and gave him a dwelling in the city of Canterbury, which was the head city in all his kingdom. Then began Augustine with his monks to imitate the life of the apostles, ^rith frequent prayers, watchings and fastings, ser\Tng God, and preaching the word of life with all diligence; despising all e.arthly things as unprofitable to them, pro\-iding only so much as was necessary for theu- common subsistence, agreeable to what they taught living themselves, and for the love of the truth which they preached being ready to suffer persecution, and death itself, if it were necessary. Therefore very many believed, and were baptised in the name of God, admiring the simplicity of their innocent course of life, and the sweetness of their heavenly doctrine. Afterwards king iEthelbyrht was much pleased with the purity of their lives, and their delightful promises, which were indeed confirmed by many miracles. And he belie^•ing was baptised, and he reverenced the Christians, and looked upon them as men of a heavenly politj-. Xevertheless he would not force any one to receive Chris- tianity, because he had found upon enquirj- from the ministers of his salvation, th.at the ser\-ice of Christ ought not to be forced, but voluntan,-. Then began very many daily to hearken to the divine preaching, and leave their heathenism, and to join themselves to Christ's church, belie\-ing in him. In the meantime Augustine went over sea to Etherius Archbishop of Aries, by whom he was consecrated Archbishop of the English, as Gregory before had given him direction. Augustine being consecrated, returned to his bishopric, and sent messengers to Rome, to assure the blessed Gregory, that the English people had received Christianity : and he also in writing made many enquiries, as touching the manner, how he ought to behave himself towards the new converts. "WTicreupon Gregorv" gave many thanks to Ciod with a joj-ful mind, that that had happened to the Enghsh nation which 28 CASSELL'S LIBRAltY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [a.D. iOiM himself had so earnestly desired. ^Vnd he sent ambassadors to tlic belicvin;:; king v^ithelbyrht, with letters and many presents : and otlKT letters he sent to Ausu.stine, with answers to all the things after whieli lie had enquired, and advised him in these words : " Jlost dearly beloved brother, I know that the Almighty hath by you shown fortli many wonders to the people whom he hath ehosen, for whieh you have reason both to rejoiee and to be afraid. You may very prudently rejoiee that the souls of this people by outward miracles are brouglit to have inward graee. Nevertheless be afraid ; that your mind be not lifted up with arrogance by reason of the miracles whieh God liath wrought by you, and you then fall into vain-glory within, when you are extolled with outward respect.'" Gregory sent also to Augustine holy presents of sacred vestments and of books, and the reliques of the apostles and martyrs, and ordered that his successors should fetch the pall of the archbishopric from the apostolical see of the lioman Church. After this Augustine placed bi.shops out of those that had accompanied him, in each city of the English nation, and they have remained promoting the Christian faith con- tinually unto this day. The holy Gregory composed many divine treatises, and with great diligence instructed God's people in the way to eternal life, and wrought many miracles in his lifetime, and behaved himself in a most glorious manner upon the episcopal tlu'one thii-tcen years, and si.x months, and ten days, and afterwards as on this day dei)arted to the eternal tlirone of the heavenly Iringdom, in wliieh he liveth with God Almighty world without end. Amen. Here we may pas.s from tlie literature of Fii'st- English times. The teachei's of religion were also the teachers of all other le.irning, and formed the main body of the educated class. To be of the jieople, " leod," was to be unlearned, " lowed ; " the educated man was clerk. From such a literary class there came a liti^'ature almost exclusively religious. The one great exception is the heathen poem of "Beowulf" "Beowulf" was a tale brought into the country, but we have it as told in the language spoken only here. In its origin it is more ancient than Ciedmon, and its ori.jinal character is well ])resei'ved ; but a few interspersed comments, and the fact that it is in a form of speech proper to this country, and doubtless produced here by the fusion of tribes, shows that the old ])oem, as we have it, was written by an English monk, who seems even to have put local features of the coast near Whitby into his suggestions of scenery, and who could hardly have written before Ctedmon's time. Except only a few short pieces, all other literature of the Fir.st English was religious, and applied religion very practically to the life of man. CHAPTER IL Transition English : From the Conquest to WiCLIF.— A.D. 1066 to A.D. 1376. After the Conquest the chief literary energy was at first in the production of monastic chronicles. Science was occupied with treatises on computation of the time of Easter, until contact with the Arabs quickened scientific thought. Osbern of Canterbury wrote in the reign of William the Conqueror Latin Lives of Saints ; Turgot wrote during tlie reign of William IL a History of the Monastery of Durliam; Eadmer wrote in the i-eign of Henry I. a Lite of Anselni ; and Stewulf began the long series of English records of travel and adventure, with an account of that form of far travel to which religion prompted men — travel in Palestine. The religious houses being still the chief centres of intellectual activity, and the sjiirit of adventure impelling Englishmen then as now to foreign travel, men looked with especial interest towards the Holy Land. Not long after the death of C;edmon, Adam- naii, Abbot of lona, had wiitten down an account of the holy places from the dictation of Bishop Ai'culf, a native of Gaul, who had spent nine months at Jenisalem. Bede abridged this narrative into a text-book, that was used for diflusing a more lively knowledge of the topography of Palestine. Another Englishman, early in First-English times, Willibald, also visited the Holy Land, Ijefore he became Bishop of Eichstadt, about tlie year 740. He died in the latter j)ait of the eighth century, and his life was written by a mm of Heidenlieim, who also took down from his own mouth an account of his travels. After the Conquest, the English traveller who first followed the Crusaders to Palestine was Ssewulf His visit was paid in the years 1102 and 1103. SiEwulf was a merchant who often had twinges of conscience, confessed to Bishoj) Wulfstan at Wor- cester, then was temj)ted back to the old tricks of trade, and finally gave up active life in the world to escape from its temptations, and joined the monks at Malmesbury. His description of the storm at Joppa — due allowance made for rhetoric — gives us a lively sense of the energy of tJi.it religions move- ment towards Palestine, which had Ijrouglit so many pilgi-ims into the harbour. In the following account of Siewulfs entrance into the Holy Land and his going up to Jerusalem, then iit the hands of the Crusaders, the Mosque of Omar is described as the Temple of the Lord, with a minute identification of sacred p1:ices that came of a determination to join thoughts of heaven with as many sjiots of earth as possible : — s.favulf's visit to the holy places.' After leaving the isli- of Cyprus, we were tossed about by tempestuous weather for seven days and seven nights, being forced back one night almost to the .spot from whieh we ^^ailed ; but after much suffering, by divine mercy, at simrise on the eighth day, we saw before us the coast of the port of Joppa, which tilled us with an unexpected and extraordinary joy. Thus, after a eoiu-se of thirteen weeks, as we took ship at Monopoli,- on a Sunday, having dwelt constantly on tlic ' From " Early Travels in Palestiue, comprising the naiTatives of Arculf, Willil)fil<], Bernard. Sffiwulf, Sigrnvd. Benjamin of Tudela, Sir John Mauntleville, De la Brocquiere, ami Maundvell. Edited, with Notes, by Thomas Wright, Esq., M.A., F.S.A., &c." One of many valuable books with which Mr. Thomas Wright has, during a long career, quickened the general knowledge of oiu- past life and, litera- ture, and earned the gratitude of students who can recognise the worth of a busy life spent, with a definite aim, in sustained lahour helping always towards the higher education of the people. 2 Monopoli. A seaport of South Italy, on the Adj-iatic. TO A.D. 1103.] RELIGION. 29 waves of the sea, or in islands, or in deserted cots and sheds (for the Greeks are not hospitable), wo put into the port of Joppa, with great rejoicings and thanksgivings, on a Sunday. And now, my dear friends, aU join with me in thanking God for liis mercy shown to me through tliis long voyage ; lilcssed he his name now and evermore ! Listen now to a now instance of his mercy shown to mo, although the lowest of his servants, and to my companions. The very day wo came in sight of the port, one said to me (I believe by divine inspiration), " Sir, go on shore to-day, lest a storm come on in the night, which will render it impossible to land to- morrow." When I heard this, I was suddenly seized with a great desire of landing, and, having hired a boat, went into it, with all my companions; but, before I had reached the shore, the sea was troubled, and became continually more tempestu- ous. We landed, however, with God's grace, without h)ui, and entering the city weary and hungry, we secured a lodging, and reposed ourselves that night. But next morning, as we wore retiuTiing from church, we heard the roaring of the sea, .and the shouts of the people, and saw that everybody was in confusion and astonishment. We were also di-agged along with the crowd to the shore, where we saw the waves swell- ing higher than moimtains, and innumerable bodies of di'owned persons of both sexes scattered over the beach, while the fragments of ships wore floating on every side. Nothing was t'> be heard but the roaring of the sea and the dashing toge- ther of the ships, which drowned entirely the .shouts and clamour of the people. Our own ship, which was a very large and strong one, and many others laden with corn and mer- chandise, as well as with pilgrims coming and returning, still held by their anchors, but how they were tossed by the waves ! how their crews were fiUed with terror ! how they east over- board their merchandise I what eye of those who were looking on could be so hard and stony as to refrain from tears ? We had not looked at them long before the ships were driven from their anchors by the \-iolence of the waves, which threw them now up aloft, and now down, until they were run aground or upon the rocks, and there they wei'e beaten backwards and forwards until they were crushed to pieces. For the violence of the wind would not allow them to put out to sea, and the character of the coast would not allow them to put into shore with safety. Of the sailors and pilgiinis who had lost all hope of escape, some remained on the .ships, others laid hold of the masts or beams of wood ; many remained in a state of stupor, and were drowned in that condition without any attcm])t to save Ihcmsolvcs ; some (although it may appear incredible) had in my sight their heads knocked oft' by the very timliers of the sliips to which they had attached themselves for safety ; othoi-s were carried out to sea on the beams, instead of being brought to land ; even those who knew how to swim had not strength to struggle with the waves, and very few thus trusting to their own strength reached the shore alive. Thus, out of thirty very large ships, of which some were w'hat are commonly called dromonds, some gulafres, and others cats,' all laden with palmers and with merchandise, scarcely seven remained safe when we left the shore. Of persons of both sexes, there perished more than a thousand that day. Indeed, no eye over behold a greater misfoi'tune in the space of a single day, fi"om all which God snatched us by his grace ; to whom be honour and glory for ever. Amen. We went up from Joppa to the city of Jerusalem, a joimiey 1 Dromonds. . . tfidafres. . . caf.s. A dromouci, Greek dpofiav, fi'Olu Tptxw (root ^pt^w), I ruu, is a lar^^e fast sailing vessel. Grdafir is the Arabic " klialiyah," a low flat-built galley with one deck, sails and oars, common in tbe Mediterranean. A cat is a very strong sliip, witli a narrow stern, projecting quarters, a deei) waist, and no ligure at the prow. The name is still used in the coal trade. of two days, by a moimtainous road, very rougii, and danger- ous on account of the Saracens, who lie in wait in the caves of the mountains to surprise the Christians, watching both day and night to surprise those less capable of resisting by the smaUness of their company, or the weary, who may chance to lag behind their companions. At one moment, j'ou see them on every side ; at another, they are altogether invisible, as may be witnessed by anybody travelling there. Numbers of human bodies lie scattered in the way, and by the way-side, torn to pieces by wild beasts. Some may, perhaps, wonder that the bodies of Christians are allowed to remain unburied, but it is not sui-pri.sing when we consider that there is not much eaith on the hard rock to dig a grave : and if earth were not wanting, who would be so simple as to leave his comiany, and go alone to dig a grave for a companion ? Indeed, if he did so, he would rather be digging a grave for himself than for the dead man. For on that road, not only the poor and weak, but the rich and strong, are surrounded with perils : many are cut oft' by the Saracens, hut more by heat and thirst ; many perish by the want of drink, hut more by too much drinking. We, however, with all our company, reached the end of oui' journey in safety. Blessed be the Lord, who did not tuni away my prayer, and hath not tvuncd his mercy from me. Amen. The entrance to the city of Jerusalem is from the west, under the citadel of king David, by the gate which is called the gate of David. The iirst place to be visited is the church of the Holy Sepulchre, which is called the Martyrdom, not only because the streets lead most directly to it, but because it is more celebrated than all the other churches ; and that rightly and justly, for all the things which were foretold and forewritten by the holy prophets of our Saviour Jesus C^hrist were there actually fulfilled. The church itself was royally and magnificently built, after the discovery of our Lord's cross, by the archbishop JIaximus, with the patronage of the emperor Constantino, and his mother Helena. In the middle of this church is oui- Lord's Sepulchre, surroimded by a very strong wall and roof, lest the r.ain should fall upon the Holy Sepulchre, for the church above is open to the sky. This church is situated, like the city, on the declivity of Jlount Sion. The Roman emperors Titus and Vespasian, to revenge our Lord, entirely destroyed the city of Jeru- salem, that our Lord's prophecy might he fulfilled, which, as he approached Jerusalem, seeing the city, he pronounced, weeping over it, " If thou hadst known, even thou, for the day shall come upon thee, that thine enemies shall cast a trench about thee, and compass thee round, and keep thee in on every side, and shall lay thoe oven with the ground, and thy children with thee ; and they shall not leave in thoo one stone upon another." We know that our Lord suft'ered without the gate. But the emperor Hailrian, who was called ^Elius, rebuilt the city of Jerusalem, and the Temple of the Lord, and added to the city as far as the Tower of David, which was previously a considerable distance from the city, for any one may see from the Mount of Olivet where the extreme western walls of the city stood originally, and how much it is since increased. And the emperor called the city after his own name ^Elia, which is interpreted, the House of God. Some, however, say that tlu; citv was rebuilt by the emperor Justinian, and also the Tomide of the Lord as it is now ; but they say that according to supposition, and not ac- cording to truth. For the Assyrians,'- whose fathers dwelt in that country from the first persecution, say that the city was taken and destroyed many times after our Lord's Passitin, along with aU the churches, but not entirely defaced. 2 .t.s.si/rtrtjis is Seeuiuud's name for Syrians. 30 CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [a.d. 1103 In the court of the church of our Lord's sepulchre are seen some vcrj' holy places, niimt'ly, the prison in which our Lord Jesus Christ was confined after he was betrayed, according to the testimony of the Assj-rians ; then, a little ahove, appears the pliice where the holy cross and the other crosses were foimd, where afterwards a large church was built in honour of queen Helena, but which has since been utterly destrcjyed bv the Pagans ; and below, not far from the prison, stands the marble column to which our Lord Jesus Clu-ist was bound in the common hall, and scoui-ged with most cruel stripes. Near this is the spot where our Lord was stripped of his garments by the soldiers ; and next, the place where he was clad in a purple vest by the soldiers, and crowned with the crown of thorns, and they cast lots for his garments. Next we ascend Mount Calvary, where the patriarch Abraham raised an altar, and prepared, by God's command, to sacrifice his own son ; there afterwards the Son of God, whom he pre- figured, was offered up as a sacrifice to God the Father for the redemption of the worid. The rock of that mountain remains a witness of oui- Lord's passion, being much cracked near the foss in which our Lord's cross was fLxcd, because it could not suffer the death of its Maker without splitting, as we read in the Passion, "and the rocks rent." Below is the I>lacc called Golgotha, where Adam is said to have been raised to life by the blood of our Lord which fell upon him, as is siiid in the Passion, " And many bodies of the saints which slept arose." But in the Sentences of St. Augustine, we read that he was buried in Hebron, where also the three patriarchs were afterwai-ds buried with their- wives; Abraham with Sarah, Isaac with Rebecca, and Jacob with Leah ; as well as the bones of Joseph, which the children of Israel carried with them from Egypt. Near the place of Calvary is the church of St. Slarv, on the spot where the body of oui- Lord, after ha\Tng been taken down from the cross, was anointed before it was buried, and wrapped in a linen cloth or shroud. At the head of tlic church of the Holy Sepulchi-e, in the wall outside, not far from the place of Calvary, is the place called Compas, which our Lord Jesus C'hiist himself signified and measured with his own hand as the middle of the world, according to the words of the Psalmist, " For God is my king of old, working salvation in the midst of the earth." But some say that this is the place where our Lord Jesus Christ first appeared to Mary Magdalene, while she sought him weeping, and thought ho had been a gardener, as is related in the Gospel. These most holy places of prayer are contained in the court of our Lord's Sepulchre, on the east side. In the sides of the church itscU are attached, on one side and the other, two most beautiful chapels in honour of St. Mary and St. John, as they, pai-ticipating in our Lord's sufferings, sta- tioned themselves beside him here and there. On the west wall of the chapel of St. Mary is seen the picture of our Lord's Mother. ])ainted externally, who once, by speaking wonder- fully tlirough the Holy Spirit, in the form in which she is here painted, comforted JIary the Egj-ptian, when she re- pented with her whole heart, and sought the help of the Mother of our Lord, as we read in her life. On the other side of the church of St. John is a very fair monastery of the Holy Trinity, in which is the place of the baptistery, to ■which adjoins the Chapel of St. John the Ajjostle, who first filled the pontifical see at Jerusalem. These are all so com- posed and an-anged, that any one standing in the furthest church may clearly perceive the five chui'ches from door to door. AVithout the gate of the Holy Sepulchre, to the south, is the church of St. Mary, called the Latin, because the monks there perform divine service in the Latin tongue; and the Assyrians say that the blessed Mother of our Lord, at the crucifixion of her Son, stood on the spot now occupied by the altar of this church. Adjoining to this chui-ch is another church of St. Mary, called the Little, occupied by nuns who serve devoutly the Virgin and her Son. Near which is the Hospital, where is a celebrated monastery founded in honour of St. John the Baptist. We descend from our Lord's sepulclire, about the distance of two arbalist-shots, to the Temple of the Lord, which is to the cast of the Holy Sepulchre, the court of which is of great length and breadth, ha's-ing many gates ; but the principal gate, which is in front of the Temple, is called the Bi'autiful, on account of its elaborate workmanship and variety of colours, and is the spot where Peter healed Claudius, when he and John went up into the Temple at the ninth hour of ])rayer, as we read in the Acts of the Apostles. The place where Solomon built the Temple was called anciently Bethel ; whither Jacob repaired by God's command, and where he dwelt, and saw the ladder whose summit touched heaven, and the angels ascending and descending, and said, " Truly this place is holy," as we read in Genesis. There he raised a stone as a memorial, and constructed an altar, and poured oil upon it; and in the same place afterwards, by God's will, Solomon built a temple to the Lord of magnificent and in- comparable work, and decorated it wonderfully with every ornament, as we read in the Book of Kings. It exceeded all the mountains around in height, and all walls and buildings in brilUancy and glory. In the middle of which temple is seen a high and large rock, hollowed beneath, in which was the Holy of Holies. In this place Solomon placed the Ark of the Covenant, ha\Tng the manna and the rod of Aaron, which flourished and budded there and produced almonds, and the two Tables of the Testament ; here our Lord Jesus Christ, wearied with the insolence of the Jews, was accustomed to repose ; here was the place of confession, where Ms disciples confessed themselves to him ; here the angel Gabriel ap- peared to Zachai'ias, saying, " Thou shalt receive a child in thy old age ; " here Zacharias, the son of Barachias, was slain between the temple and the altar ; here the child Jesus was circumcised on the eighth day, and named Jesus, which is interpreted Saviour ; here the Lord Jesus was offered by his parents, with the Vii-giu Mary, on the day of her purification, and received by the aged Simeon; here, also, when Jesus was twelve years of age, ho was foimd sitting in the midst of the doctors, hearing and interrogating them, as we read in the Gosjiel ; here afterwards he cast out the oxen, and sheep, and pigeons, saj"ing, " My house shall be a house of prayer ; " and here he said to the Jews, " Destroy this temple, and in three daj-s I will raise it up." There still arc seen in the rock the footsteps of our Lord, when he concealed himself, and went out from the Temple, as we read in the Gospel, lest the Jews shoidd throw at him the stones they carried. Thither the woman taken in adultery was brought before Jesus by the Jews, that they might find some accusation against him. There is the gate of the city on the eastern side of the Temple, which is called the Golden, where Joachim, the father of the Blessed Mary, by order of the Angel of the Lord, met his wife Anne. By the same gate the Lord Jesus, coming from Bethanj- on the day of olives, sitting on an ass, entered the city of Jerusalem, while the chUtlren sang " Hosanna to the son of David." By this gate the emperor Heraclius entered Jerusalem, when he returned ^-ictorious from Persia, with the cross of our Lord ; but the stones first fell down and closed up the passage, so that the gate became one mass, until himibling himself at the achnonition of an angel, he descended from his horse, and so the entrance was opened to him. In the court of the Temple of the Lord, to the south, is the Temple of Solomon, of wonderful magnitude, on the east side TO A.D. 1142.] EELIGIOX. 31 of which, is an oratory containing the cradle of Christ, and his bath, and the hed of the Virgin Mary, according to the testimony of the Assviians. From the Temple of the Lord you go to the chiu'ch of St. Anne, the mother of the Blessed Mary, towai-ds the north, where she lived with her husband, and she was there deUvered of her daughter Mary. Xear it is the pool called in Hebrew Bethsaida, having five porticoes, of which the Gospel speaks. A little above is the place where the woman was healed by our Lord, by touching the hem of his garment, while he was surrounded by a crowd in the street. From St. Anne we pass through the gate which leads to the Valley of Jehoshaphat, to the church of St. Mary in the same valley, where she was honourably buried by the apostles after her death; her sepulchre, as is just and proper, is revered with the greatest honours by the faithful, and monks perform serWce there day and night. Here is the brook C'edron; here also is Gothsemane, where our Lord came mth his disciples from Mount Sion, over the brook C'edron, before the hour of his betrayal ; there is a certain oratory where he dismissed Peter, James, and John, saj-ing, " Tarry ye here, and watch with me;" and going forward, he fell on his face and prayed, and came to his disciples, and found them sleeping : the jjlaces are still visible where the disciples slept, apart from each other. Gethsemane is at the foot of Mount Olivet, and the brook Cedi'on below, between Mount Sion and Mount Olivet, as it were the division of the moim- tains ; and the low ground between the mountains is the Valley of Jehoshaphat. A little above, in Mount Olivet, is an oratorj- in the place where our Lord prayed, as we read in the Passion, " And he was withdrawn from them about a stone's cast ; and being in an agony, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was, as it were, great drops of blood falling down to the ground." Xext we come to Aceldama, the field bought with the price of the Lord, also at the foot of Mount OUvet, near a valley about three or four arbaHst-shots to the south of Gethsemane, where are seen innumerable monuments. That field is near the sepulchres of the holy fathei-s Simeon the Just and Joseph the foster-father of our Lord. These two sepulchres are ancient structures, in the manner of towers, cut into the foot of the mountain itself. We next descend, by Aceldama, to the fountain which is called the Pool of SUoah, where, by our Lord's command, the man bom blind washed his eyes, after the Lord had anointed them with clay and spittle. From the chui'ch of St. Mary before mentioned, we go up by a very steep jjath nearly to the summit of Mount Olivet, towards the east, to the place whence our Lord ascended to lieaven in the sight of his disciples. The place is surrounded by a little tower, and honourably adorned, with an altar raised on the spot within, and also surrounded on all sides with a wall. On the spot where the apostles stood with his mother, wondering at his ascension, is an altar of St. Mary ; there the two men in white garments stood by them, saying, "Ye men of GaUlee, why stand ye gazing into heaven f" About a stone's throw from that place is the spot where, according to the Assj-rians, our Lord vrrote the Lord's Prayer in Hebrew, with his o^vn fingers, on marble ; and there a very beautiful church was built, but it has since been cnth-ely destroyed by the Pagans, as are all the cliiu-ches outside the walls, except the church of the Holy Ghost on Mount Sion, about an arrow-shot from the wall to the north, where the apostles received the promise of the Father, namely, the Paraclete Spirit, on the day of Pentecost ; there they made the Creed. In that church is a chapel in the place where the Blessed Mary died. On the other side of the church is the chapel where our Lord Jesus Christ first appeared to the apostles after his resurrection ; and it is called GalUee, as he said to the apostles, " After I am risen again, I will go before you unto Galilee." That i>lace was called Galilee, because the apostles, who were called Galileans, frequently rested there. The gi-eat city of Galilee is by Mount Tabor, a journey of three days from Jerusalem. On the other side of Mount Tabor is the city called Tiberias, and after it Capei-namn and Nazareth, on the sea of Galilee or sea of Tiberias, whither Peter and the other apostles, after the resurrection, retm-ned to their fishing, and where the Lord afterwards showed him- self to them on the sea. Near the city of Tiberias is the field where the Lord Je.sus blessed the five loaves and two fishes, and afterwards fed four thousand men with them, as we read in the Gosijel. But I will return to my immediate subject. In the Galilee of Mount Sion, where the apjostles were concealed in an inner chamber, with dosed doors, for fear of the Jews, Jesus stood in the middle of them and said, " Peace be unto you;" and he again apijeared there when Thomas put his finger into his side and into the place of the nails. There he supped with his disciples before the Passion, and washed their feet; and the maible table is still preserved there on which he supped. There the relics of St. Stephen, Nicodemus, Gamaliel, and Abido, were honourably deposited by St. John the Patriarch after they were found. The stoning of St. Stephen took place about two or three arbalist-shots mthout the wall, to the north, where a ver)' handsome church was built, which has been entirely destroyed by the Pagans. The church of the Holy Cross, about a mile to the west of Jerusalem, in the place where the holy cross was cut out, and which was also a very handsome one, has been similaidy Laid' waste bj' the Pagans ; but the destruction here fell chietiy on the sunounding buildings and the ccUs of the monks, the church itself not having suffered so much. L'nder the wall of the cit)', outside, on the declivity of Jlount Sion, is the church of St. Peter, which is called the Galilean, where, after having denied his Lord, he hid himself in a veiy deep crj'pt, as may still be seen there, and there wept bitterly for his oft'ence. About three miles to the west of the church of the Holy Cross is a very fine and large monasterj- in honour of St. Saba, who was one of the seventy-two disciples of our Lord Jesus Christ. There were above three bundled Greek monks li\'ing there, in the service of the Lord and of the saint, of whom the greater part have been slain by the Saracens, and the few who remain have taken up their abode in another monastery of the same saint, within the walls of the city, near the tower of Da\-id, their other monastery being left entirely desoLate. William of Malmesbury, from wliose hi.story wi^ have taken a shoi-t account of Akllielm, was Sajwulf's contemporary, but a younger num. He wrote his " History of the Kings of Eughind " in the reigns of Henry I. and Stephen. It ended with the year 1142, which seems to have been tlie date of its autlior's death. This monk of Mahnesbury was an enthusiast for books, and, like Bede, he refused to be made an abbot, because he desired to give to study all the time not occupied by the religious exercises of the brethren. When John Milton was writing a "Histoiy of Britain" by hel]) of monastic clironiclei-s, and, having parted from Bede, he came in due time to the record left us by this literary monk, he .said that among our old chroniclers " William of ^lalmes- biuy must be acknowledged, both for style and 32 CASSELL'S LlBltARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [a.d. 1112 judgment, to Ijc l>y far tlii' best writer of theiu all." ■William wrote at Malmesljury not only the " History of English Kings," bnt also a " History of English rrelate.s," and many other l)Ooks. With the year 1 1 4l' ended not only William of Malmesbury'.s' " History of the Kings of England," but also the " Ecclesiastical History of England and Normandy," Ijy Orderiens ^'italis. Orderic, who was sixty-seven year.s old when he Ijrought his naiTative down to the end of his own working life, had in the year 1085 been jilaced as an English boy in the Norman abbey of St. Evroult, and had lived there devoted to the conteuiiilative life, and iietive with his ]ien. When fifty-three y<'ai-s old, he was in the writing-room of his monastery, quietly at work upon his history, and, falling into recollections of his childhood, spoke thus of his position at St. E^•roult : — " Then, being in my eleventh year, I was sejiarated from my father, for the love of God. and sent, a young exile, from England to Normandy, to enter the ser\-ice of the King Eternal. Here I was re- ceived by the ^•enerable father Maimer, and liaving assumed the monastic habit, and become indissolubly joineil to the comjiany of the monks by solenai vows, liave now cheerfully borne the light yoke of the Lord for forty-two yeai-s, and walking in the ways of God with my fellow-monks, to the best of my ability, according to the rules of our order, have endeavoured to perfect myself in the service of the Church and ecclesiastical duties, at the same time that I ha^e always devoted my talents to some useful employment." William of Malmesbury and Ordericus Vitalis ended their work in 1142, in Stephen's reign. In the same reign, in the year 1147, Geofl'rey of Mon- mouth produced his " History of British Kings." Geofliey was a Welsh monk who was made Bishop of St. Asajih not long before his death in 1154. His History contained moie fable than chronicle. By " British " kings he meant kings of Britain before the coming of the English. Of English kuigs there were trustworthy chronicles ; Geotl'rey pro- vided a chronicle of British kings, not meant to be particularly trustworthy, but distinctly meant to be anuising. It was partly founded on Breton tra- ditions, and it did obtain a wide attention. It was the source of a new stream of poetry in English literature, and it is this book that brought King Arthur among us as our national hero. GeoftVey's History does not itself belong to the subject of this volume. The old romances of King Arthur are not religious. They are pictin-esque stories of love and war, and of each in nide animal form. But the way in which the legends of this mythical hero have been dealt with in our coimtry furnishes one of the most marked illustrations of the religious tendency of English thought. For while amongst Latin nations the Charlemagne romances have given rise to fictions which, however delightful, exjiress only jilay of the imagination, the romances of which Arthur is the hero h-dve been used by the English people in succes- sive stages of their civilisation for expression of their highest sense of spiritual life. In the veiT first yeai'S of the re^'ived fame of Arthur, when Geoffrey of Monmouth's " History of British Kings " was being fashioned into French veree for courtly English readers Ijy Gaimar and Wace, and into English ^erse by Layamon. the change was made by Walter Map that put a Christian soul into the flesh of the Ai-tkurian romances. This he tlid by joining a A CulTCTLY WkITKK. From iho Boo); ofihc Coronation oj Henry J. Cotton. M.S8., Clautlu'.-<, A. iii . separate legend of Josej)h of Arimathea to the stories of King Arthur, and setting in the midst of their ideals of a life according to the flesh tiie quest for the Holy Graal. The Holy Graal was the dish used by our Lord at the Last Supper, into which also his wounds were washed after he had l)een taken from the cross, a sacred dish visible only to the ))ure. It could be used, therefore, as a ty[ie of the secret things of God. Walter Map, who thus dealt with the King Arthur legends, was a chapl.ain of the Court of King Heniy II. He was born about the year 1143, and called the Welsh his countrymen, England " our mother." He studied in the ITni'\ersity of Paris, was in attendance at the Covirt of Henry II.. and in 1173 was presiding at Gloucester Assizes as one of the King's Justices in Eyre. At Henry II. s Court, IVIaji was a chai)lain; Heniy died in 118il, and Ma]i was not an archdeacon imtil 1196, in the reign of Richard I. He was then about fifty-three years old, and after that date we hear no more of him.' We must dwell now for a little whil(> upon the origin of our religious treatment of Ai-thuriau romance. ^ See the Volume of this Library contaiuiner "Shorter English Poems," pages 12—16, for iUustrattous of Walter Map's Golias poetry. TU A.V. 1171.] RELIGION. 33 Mediseval tradition said that there were Nine Worthies of the workl, three heathen, three Jewish, and three Chiistiau : — namely, Hector, Alexander, and Cajsar ; Joshua, David, and Judas JIaccaVjaJUS ; King Aa-thur, Charlemagne, and that Godfrey of Boloine who headed the crusadei's when the Holy City was taken in the year 1099, w-ho was then elected the fii-st Liitin King of Jerusalem, but chose the htnnbler title of '■ Defender and Baron of the Holy Sepiulchre," and woidd wear no earthly diadem where his Redeemer had been crowned ^vith thorns. If our British Worthy ever lived, his time was the earlier pai-t of the sixth centuiy, when he led tribes of Celtic Britons in their resLstance against the incoming of the English. There is more record of a chieftain of the North, named Urien, about whom were the liaids Taliesin, Llywarch Hen, and Aneurin, who lamented for the chiefs slain in the battle of Cattraeth.' To Gildas, said by ti-adition to have been a brother of Aneurin, there is ascribed an ancient histoiy of the disa.st«re of the British (" De Calamitate, E.xcidio et Conquestu Biitannife"), but it was written in no friendly spirit, and is the work of an English monk, who probably wTote in the seventh century. By him Arthur is mentioned, and in another work, a " Histoiy of the Britons," ascribed to Nennius, a disciple of Elbodus, who may have lived in the latter part of the eighth century, and whose work is really CVltie in feeling, Arthur is more fully spoken of. Here there is record of the twelve battles in Which he routed the Saxons — namely, 1, at the mouth of the river Gleni ; 2, 3, 4, 3, by the river Dugla.s in the region Linuis ; 6, on the river Ba.ssa.s ; 7, in the w^ood CeHdon ; 8, near Gui-nion Ca-stle ; 9, at Caerleon ; 10, on the banks of the river Ti-at Treuroit ; 11, on the mountain Bregovin ; 12, when Arthur penetrated to the hill of Badon, and 9-10 fell by his hand alone. There was at any rate early tradition, mi.xed already with fable, of the prowess of the chief who led his followei's in a gi'eat war of independence. Arthur's name is also a.ssociated from old time with localities in many pai-ts of Britiiin. At Caerleon-upon-Usk he is said to have held his court ; that is the Isca Siluiiim of Antoninus, where the second Augustan legion was long in garmon, the ancient capital of Britannm Secunda (Wales), and a place of importance in the twelfth century. Here the remains of a Roman amphitheatre fomi an oval bank, which is called " Arthur's Round Table." He held court also at Camelot, which is identified with Cadbui-y in Somei-setshire, three or foiu- miles from Castle Gary. This place is called Camelot some- times in old records, and near it ai-e the villages of West Camel and Queen's Camel. John Selden, in his notes to Di-ayton's " Polyolbion," spoke of Cadbuiy as a hill, " a mile compass at the top, four trenches encircling it, and twixt eveiy of them an earthen wall ; the content of it within about twenty acres full of ruins and relics of old buildings." There is also TLntagel, on the coiist of Corawall, Arthur's birth- place. At Camelford, about five miles from Tintagel, the la.st battle is s;iid to have been fought with ' See the Tolmne of this Iiibraxy contaixiiiig " Shorter English Poems," pni^e 5. 69 Mordred. In a convent at Amesbury, not far from Stonehenge, Arthur's penitent wife, Guenevere, is .said to have ended her days, and his body was taken to Avalon, which is Glastonbury, on a peninsula formed by the river Biiie, the Eoman Itm/la Avalonia, or Isle of Apples. The Eoman name was only a Liitinisiug of the Cymric, in which Afall is an ajjple- tree. The great abbey at Glastonbuiy once covered sixty acres, and the modem town h;is almost been built out of its ruins. Here Joseph of Arimathea was said to have been btnied. It was said also that King Ai-thur was buried here between two pillare ; and as the revival of King Arthur's fame took place in Hemy II. 's time, that king, when on his way to Ireland, in the year 1171, ordered Henry of Blois, then Abbot of Glastonbmy, to make search. The search was made, and care was no doubt taken to make it successfid. Between two pillai-s, at a depth of nine feet, a stone was found, with a leaden cross, inscribed on its under side in Latin : — " Here lies buried the renowned King Arthur, in the Isle of The Inscription over Kino Arthur's Coffin. Frfrm Warner's ** Riatory of Glastonbury." Avalon ; " and seven feet lower down his body was found in an oaken cofiin. It must have been about this time — when Arthur had become the hero of romance, and his bones were found at Avalon, to plea.se the king — that Walter Map, perhaps asked by the king for a connected body of Arthurian romance, gave life to such a body by jiutting into it the very soul of our mediseval religion. Many in the world weve becoming better studied in the animal life of the new stories about Arthur than in Bible truth. Shakespeare long after- wards indicated tliis in Dame Quickly 's confusion of ideas between Arthur and Abmham, when of the dead Falstafl" she said, " Nay, sure, he's not in hell ; he's in Arthur's bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. A made a tine end, and went away, an it u CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [i.D. 1142 had been any chrissom child." Map took the legeml of Joseph of Ai-imathea, who alHO was said to be bui-ied at Ghistoiibury, and to wJioin the monastery had a cliapel consecrated, by additions of Ins own drew from it a symbol of the mystery of godliness, and by his genius associated this for all time with the animal romances. The simplest form of the tradition of Joseph of Arimathea is that about sLxty- three years after the birtii of Christ he was sent by the Apostle Philip, with eleven more of Philip's disciples, into Britain. The twelve, it was said, obtained leave from Arviragus, the British king, to settle in a small uncultivated island, afterwards known as Avalon, and the king gave each of them a liide of land for his subsistence, in a district long afterwards known as the " Twelve Hides of Glaston." By them the religious house was founded, St. Joseph tlesli to tho birds of tlio air aud tlio beasts of the earth." Joseph answered, " That speech is like the speech of proud (Joliath, who reprouehed the living God in speaking against David. But ye seribcs and doctors know that God suith by the prophet. Vengeance is mine, aud I wUl repay to you evil equal to that which ye have threatened to me. Tho God whom you have hanged upon the cross, is able to deliver mo out of your hands. AU your wickedness will return upon you. For the governor, when he washed his hands, said, ' 1 am clear from the blood of this just person.' But ye answered and cried out, ' His blood be upon us and om- childi-cn : ' According as ye have said, may yc perish for ever." The elders of the Jews hearing these words, were exceedingly enraged ; and seizing Joseph, they put him into a chamber where there was no window ; they fastened tho door, and put a seal upon the lock; and Annas and Caiaphas placed a guard upon it, and took counsel with the priests imd Levite.s, that they should all meet after the sabbath, and they con- CBiPEL OF St. JOSFTH nt Al IMATHFA ULi-Mi NBDRT (from narntr s " Ui-^t n i o/ fi^istuitt ury.") b(ung its first abbot, and great privileges were ob- tained for it. Of Jose]>h's history, after he had Ijegged the liody of Christ for burial, as told by all the four Evan- g(!lists, this was the account given in the apocryjihal Gosi)el of Nioodemus, and familiarly known before Map's time : — JOSEPH OF ARI.M.\THEA. Josepli, when he came to the Jews, said to thorn, " Why arc ye iingTy with me for desiring the body of Jesus of Pilate ? Behold, I have put him in my tomb, and wrapped him up in cli;an linen, ami put a stone at the door of the sepidchre : I have acted rightly towards him ; but yc have acted im j ustly against that just person, in crucifying him, giving him vine- gar to drink, crowning him with thorns, tearing his body with whips, and prayed down the guilt of his blood upon you." The Jews at the hearing of this were disquieted, and troubled ; and they seized Jost^ph, and commanded him to bo put in custody before the sabbath, and kept there till the sabbath was over. And they said to him, " JIako confession ; for at this time it is not lawful to do thee any hann, till the first day of the week come, l^iut we know that thou wilt not be thought worthy of a bui'ial ; but we will give thy trivcd to what death they should put Joseph. WHien they had done this, tlie rulers, Annas and (.'aiaphas, ordered Joseph to be brought forth. *S III t/iii place tliiyr is a portion of the nnrriitiiv lost or Oiiilftt'fl, ivh'ivh cannot he sn/tjilicd. When all the assembly heard this, they wondered and wen astonished, because they found the same seal upon the lock el the chamber, and could not find Joseph. Then Annas ami Caiaphas went forth, and while they were all wondering a( Joseph's being gone, behold one of the soldiers, who kept thi' sepulchre of Jesus, spake in the assembly, that while they were guarding the sepulchre of Jesus, there was an earth- quake; "and we saw an angel of God roll away the stom- of the sepulihi-e and sit upon it ; and his countenance was like lightning and his gai-ment like snow; and we became through fear like persons dead. And we hoard an angel sajdng to the women at the sepulchre of Jesus, ' Do not fear : I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified ; he is ris(m, as he forc^told. Come ami see the place where he was laid ; aud go presently, and tell his disciples that he is risen from thi dead, and he will go before you into Galilee ; there ye shall see him, as he told you.' " Then the Jew.s called together all the soldiers who kept tho sepulchre of Jesus, and said to them, " Who are those women, to whom the angel spoke Y TO A.D. 1180.] EELIGION. 35 A\Tiy did ye not seize them r " The soldiers answered and said, "We know not who the women were ; besides, we became as dead persons through fear, and how could we seize those women ': " The Jews said to them, "As the Lord liveth, we do not believe you." The soldiers answering said to the Jews, " AATicn yo saw and heard Jesus working so many miracles, and did not believe him, how should ye believe us ': Ye well said, 'As the Lord Uveth,' for the Lord truly does live. We liave heard that ye shut up Joseph, who buried the body of .Tesus, in a chamber, under a lock which was sealed ; and when ye opened it, found him not there. Do ye then pro- I luce Joseph whom ye put under guard in the chamber, and we will produce Jesus whom we guarded in the sepulchre." The Jews answered and said, "We will produce Joseph, do ye produce Jesus. For Joseph is in his o^\ti city of Arimatba^a." The soldiers replied, " If Joseph be in Arimatha'a, Jesus also is in Galileo ; we heard the angel tell the women." The .Fews hearing this, were afraid, and said among themselves. If by any means these things should become pubHc, then cvery- liody will believe in Jesus. Then they gathered a large sum of money, and gave it to the soldiers, saying, "Bo ye tell the people that the disciples of Jesus came in the night when ye were asleep, and stole away the body of Jesus ; and if Pilate the governor should hear of this, we will satisfy him and secure you." The soldiers accordingly took the money, and .said as they were instructed by the Jews : and their report was spread abroad among all the people. But a certain priest I'hinees, Ada a schoolmaster, and a Le%-ite, named Ageus, they three, came from Galilee to Jerusalem, and told the chief priests and aU who were in the sj-nagogues, saying, "We have seen Jesus, whom ye crucified, talking with his eleven disciples, and sitting in the midst of them in Jlount Olivet, and saWng to them, ' Go forth into the whole world, jireach the Gospel to all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost ; and whosoever shall believe and be baptised, shall be saved.' And when he had said these things to his disciples, we saw him ascending up to heaven." And they sent forth men, who sought for Jesus, but could not find him : and they retui'ning, said, " We went all about, but could not find Jesus, but we have found .Joseph in his city of Arimatha'a." The rulers hearing this, and all the people, were glad, and praised the God of Israel, because Joseph was found, whom they had shut up in a chamber, and could not find. And when they had formed a large assembly, the chief priests said, " By what means shaU we bring Joseph to us to speak with him ? " And taking a piece of paper, they wrote to him, and said, " Peace be with thee, ;ind all thy family. We know that we have offended against Cxod and thee. Be pleased to give a %-isit to us thy fathers, for we were in utmost surprise at thine escape from prison. We know that it was malicious counsel which we took against thee, and that the Lord took care of thee, and the Lord him- self delivered thee from our designs. Peace be unto thee, Joseph, who art bonom-able among all the people." And they chose seven of Joseph's friends, and said to them, " AVhon ye come to Joseph, salute him in peace, and give him this letter." Accordingly, when the men came to Joseph, they did salute him in peace, and gave him the letter. And when Joseph bad read it, he said, "Blessed be the Lord God, who didst dcUver me from the Israelites, that they could not shed my blood. Blessed be God, who hast protected nie under thy wings." And Joseph kissed them, and took them into his house. And on the morrow, Joseph mounted his ass, and went along with them to Jerusalem. And when all the Jews heard these things, they went out to meet him, and cried out, saying, " Peace attend thy coming hither, father Joseph ! " To which he answered, " Prosperity from the Lord attend all the people !" And they all kissed him; and Nicodemus took him to his house, haWng prepared a large entertainment. But on the morrow, being a preparation-day, Annas, and Caiaphas, and Nicodemus said to Joseph, " Make confession to the God of Israel, and answer to us all those questions which we shall ask thee ; for we have been very much troubled, that thou didst bury the body of Jesus ; and that when we had locked thee in a chamber, we could not find thee ; and we have been afraid ever since, tiU this time of thy appearing among us. Tell us therefore before God, all that came to pass." Then Joseph answering, said, " Ye did indeed put me under confine- ment, on the day of preparation, till the morning. But while I was standing at prayer in the middle of the night, the house was surrounded with four angels ; and I saw Jesus as the brightness of the sun, and fell down upon the earth for fear. But Jesus laying hold on my hand, lifted me from the ground, and the dew was then sprinkled upon me ; but he, griping my face, kissed me, and said imto me, ' Fear not, Joseph ; look upon me, for it is I.' Then I looked upon him, and said, Kabboni Elias ! He answered me, ' I am not Elias, but Jesus of Nazareth, whose body thou didst bury.' I said to him, ' Shew me the tomb in which I laid thee.' Then Jesus, taking me by the hand, led me unto the place where I laid him, and shewed me the linen clothes, and napkin which I put round his head. Then I knew that it was Jesus, and worshipped him, and said, ' Blessed be he who cometh in the name of the Lord.' Jesus again taking me by the hand, led me to Arimathfea, to my own house, and said to me, ' Peace be to thee ; but go not out of thy house tiU the fortieth day ; but I must go to my disciples.' " There is nothing here of the Holy Graal, nor is there evidence of any connection of that legend with gi-owing traditions of St. Josejili, until Walter jWap told of the ap|)earance of St. Joseph to a certain hermit in the year 717, as a way of opening the story which was to introduce a new element into Arthurian romance : — PRELUDE TO THE FIRST ROM.\NCE OF THE ST. GRAAL. He who accounts himself the least and most sinful of all, salutes, and begins this historj- to all those whose heart and faith is in the Holy Trinity. The name of him who wrote this history is not told at the beginning. But by the words that foUow you may in a gi-eat measure perceive his name, country, and a great part of his lineage. But he would not disclose himself in the beginning. And he has three reasons for that. The first is that if he named himself, and said that God had revealed thi-ough him .so high a history, the felon and envious would turn it into scoff. The second is that aU who knew him, if they heard his name, would value the less his history, for being written by so mean a person. The third reason is. that if ho put his name to the history, and any fault were found committed by him, or by a transcriber from one book into another, all the blame would fall on his name ; for there are so many more mouths that speak evil than good, and a man gets more blame for a single fault than praise for a hundi-ed merits. And however he may wish to cover it, it would be more seen than he should like. But he will tell quite openly how the History of the Saint Graal was commanded to him to be made manifest. It happened 717 years after the passion of Jesus Christ that I, the most sinful of all men, was in a place wilder than I can describe And then the story begins ^vith the vision of Joseph, who tells how the Holy Graal, or dish from which the 36 CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [a.d. il+2 Last Supper was eaten, was taken by a Jew to Pilate, who gave it to Joseph of Arimathea, whom he knew to be one of tlie Saviour's devoted friends. When Josepli took the body of tlie Lord down from the cross he washed the wounds in the same dLsh. When the Jews, angered at tlie Resurrection, imprisoned Joseph, he is said to have been forty-two years in a dungeon preserved by sight of the Holy Graal miraculou.sly placed in his hands. Released by Ves- pasian, Joseph quitted Jerusalem, and went with the Graal through France into Britain. Here he taught, and died at Glastonbury, and the Holy Graal was preserved in the treasury of one of the kings of the island, known as the Fisherman King. But it is so sacred that it is not visible to the impure. Tliis made tlie Quest of the Graal by Arthur's knights a type of the striving to come near to God, the sight of the Grtuvl an embodiment of the thought of the Psalmist, " Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord, or who shall stand in his holy place 'I He that hath clean hands and a pure heart : who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully;" or of the words of Christ himself, " Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." Beginning with this new legend of Josepli of Arimathea, Map took next from Greoffrey of Monmouth the proj)liecies of Merlin, then reproduced in a form of his o-\vii the fleshly charm of Arthurian romance in the story of Lancelot ; gave Lancelot a son Galahad, pure as a maid ; and in the Quest of the Graal, which Galahad especially accomplished, he caused men to find the charm of romance in religious teaching ; then he went on to the close of the series, with the death of Arthur, adapting all to his design so perfectly that the Graal stoiy became thenceforth inseparable fi'om Arthurian legend. Although in conception and detail it was essentially poetical, Map seems to have workeil out liis scheme in Latin prose. Its several parts were then turned into French prose, and versi- fied by many. Chrestien of Troyes, who was born, like Map, between the years 1140 and 1150, first sang the romance of Erec and Enid. Kyot, a Pro- vencal poet, gave new development to the Graal story in his romance of Percival, and this was the groundwork of the " Parzival" of Wolfram von Eschenbach, in which the conception of the Graal legend is developed with deep .spiritual feeling. Wolfram von Eschenbach was a Bavarian knight of good fiimily, who in and after the year 1204 was at the court of the Thuringian landgrave, Hermann, on the Wartburg, near Eisenach, then a centre of intellectual life, such as Weimar became 600 years later. Wolfram von Eschenbach had strength and depth rather than surface grace. He wrote but few lyrics, and was rather kniglit than scholar ; though a poet Ijorn, having that large sense of the essentials of life which may be said, perhaps, to belong to the religious feeling of the Teuton, whether he be an English Walter or a German Wolfram. But Map's genius owed some of its vivacity to marriage of the Teuton with the Celt. It was long after Map's time that Sir Thomas Malory compiled his History of King Arthur. He is said to have ended the work in the ninth year of Edward IV. Fifteen years later, in 1485, it was first printed by Caxton, at Westminster. But Malory only reproduced in his own English the old material, and an English reader has no Ijook that vnU bring home to him the form and spirit of Maji's " CJuest of the Graal" so well as the chapters of Malory which reproduce its story. From him I take, therefore, some illustrations of THE QUEST OF THE GRAAL.' The king and all estat(?.s went home unto Camclot, and .so went to evensong to the Kxeat minster. And so after upon that to supper, and every knight sat in his own place as they were toforehand. Then anon they heard eracking and crying of tlumder, that them thought the place should all to-drive. In the midst of this blast entered a sun-hcain more clearer by seven times than ever they saw day, and all they were alighted of the grace of the Holy Ghost. Then began every knight to behold other, and either saw other by their seeming fairer than ever they saw afore. Xot for then there was no knight might speak one word a great while, and so they looked every man on other, as they had been dumb. Then there entered into the hall the holy Graile covered with white samite, but there was none might see it, nor who bare it. And there was all the hall full filled with good odoui-s, and every knight had such meats and drinks as he best loved in this world ; and when the holy Graile had been borne through the hall, then the holy vessel departed suddenly, that they wist not where it became. Then had they all breath to speak. And then the king yielded thankings unto God of his good grace that he had sent them. '• Cortes," said the king, " we ought to thank our Lord Jesu gi-eatly, for that he hath shewed us this day at the reverence of this high feast of Pentecost." " Now," said Sir Gawaine, " we have been served this day of what meats and drinks we thought on ; but one thing beguiled us, we might not see the holy Graile, it was .so preciously cohered : where- fore I will make here avow, that to-moni, without longer abiding, I shall labour in the quest of the Sancgreal, that I .shall hold me out a twelvemonth and a day, or more if need be, and never shall I return again imto the coml till I have seen it more openly than it hath been seen here : and if I may not speed, I shall retm'n again as he that may not be against the will of our Lord Jesu Christ." When they of the Table Round heard Sir Gawaine say so, they arose up the most party, and made such avows as Sir Gawaine had made. Anon as king Arthui- heard this he was greatly displeased, for he wist well that they might not againsay their avows. " Alas ! " said king Arthur unto Sir Gawaine, " ye have nigh slain me with the avow and promise that ye have made. For through you ye have bereft mo of the faii'est fellowship and the truest of knighthood that ever were seen together in any realm of the world. For when they depart from hence, I am sure they all shall never meet more in this world, for they shall die many in the Quest." But Sir Launcelot rode ovcrthwart and endlong in a wild forest, and held no path, but as wild adventure led him. And at the last he came to a stony cross, which departed > "The History of King Arthur and of the Knights of the Ronn sad lot, hard lot, of wliieh heavy is the thought ; For even now by your ordinance fades away oui' brother, our care. Our brother withers away, and makes us indeed to share his pain. But thou, God, have pity, and heal him, for thou canst.] The Jews shall say fur their eo/i^olation : Karissime, flere desinite, Nee adstantes ad fletum cogite, Immo preces ad Deum mittito Lazaroque salutera poscite. [Cease, dearest, to weep, nor compel those who stand by to weeping ; nay, rather send up prayers to God and ask health for Lazarus.] To whom they shall say : Ite, fratres, ad sununum medicum, Ite citi regem ad unicum, Fratrem nostrum nanate languidum, Ut veniat et reddat validum. [Go, brothers, to the highest physician, go quick to the only king, tell that om- brother is witheiing, that he may come and restore him to strength.] li*ft they, irhen theg shall have eonie to Jtsus, shall say : Quia tu diligis infinnatum grai-iter. Ad te juxi (sie) fuimus venire celeriter. Qui summus es medieus, egrum nostrum visita, Ut tibi deser^•iat, sospitate reddita. [Because thou hast strong love for him who is made infinn, we have been commanded to come to thee quickly. Thou who art the chief jihysieian, \-isit om- sick man, that he may do service to you when his health has been restored.] Jesits ripltt s .- Morbus iste fratris mei Non ad mortem crit ei, Sed evenit ut per eimi ilanifestem vobis Deum. [That sickness of my brother shall not be for him unto death ; but it happens that thi-ough him I may make God manifest to you.] //( the meantime, when theg shall have returned, Lazarus being already dead, two from among them shall lead Mury to him. To whom she shall sing : En culpa veteri Dannatvu-' posteri Mortales fieri. Sor ai dolor. Mar est mis frere morz: Por que gei plor Per eibum vctitum Nobis interitum Constat imposituni. Hor ai dolor, Hor est mis frere jitorz: For que gei plor. 1 Damnantur. 40 CASSELLS LlBRAllY OF ENGLISH LITERATUKE. [i.n. H50 Fiiuta sum iniscra, Et soror ultcni Per fratris funt'i-i. Hor ai dolor. Hor est mix frnr mor: : For gut- gti plor. Cum (Ic to cof^iUi, l'V:iter, ct mcrito. Mortem afflagitu Hor ai dolor, Hor est mvs frvrc mnrz : For que i/ri plor. [For an ancient sin those who live aftoi' are doomed to ho made mortid. Now I have griot, Now is my brother dead, Wherefore I weep. Through the forbidden food death is firndy laid upon us. Now I have -^nct. Now is my brother dead, Wherefore I weep. I am made a wretched woman, and my sister another by the burial of (jur brother. Now I have f,'rief. Now is my brother dead, Wherefore I weep. Wlien I think of thei', brother, and tliy wortli, I passionately caU for dcv'ith. Now 1 have grief, Now is my brother dead. Where- fore 1 weep.] Tlieii two of the Jews coiisaliin/, .iliatl say to her : Cosset talis gemitus. Cesset merer penitus. Ccssent que suspiria ; Talis lamentaeio Talis ejulaeio Non est neccssaria. Non pir tales lacrimas Visum fuit animas Redisse coq)oribus. Ceescnt ergo laerimc Que defunctis minimi' I*rodifi : Slors c-xecrabilis ! Mors detestabilis I Mors mihi flebilis ! lAise, chative .' Lii que mis fre)-e eat nwrz Porque siw eive ? Pratris interitus Gravis et subitus Est causa gemitus. iMse, ehativc! Bis que mis frcrc est morz Porqiie sue vive? Pro fratre mortuo Mori non abnuo. Nee mortem metuo. iMse, ehativc .' Des que misfrcrc est morz Torque sue rire ? Ex fratris funere Recuse vivere : Ve mihi miscrc I Lase, chatire ! Sis que misfrere est moi-z Porque sue rive ? [Death to lie execrated ! Death to be detested ! Death to be wept by me 1 Unhappy, wretched one '. Since that my brother is dead, why am I living ? The destruction of ray brother, heavy and sudden, is a cause for sobbing. Unhappy, wretched one ; Since that my brother is dead, why am I Hving I' For my dead brother I do not refuse to die, nor do I fear death. Unhappy, wretched one ! Since that my brother is dead, why am I living > Because of the burial of my brother I refuse to live. Woe to me, miserable ! Unhappy, wretched one 1 Since that my brother is dead, why am I living?] Two of the Jews shall saij for her comfort : ToUe fletum, quesumus, Nichil enim possumus Per fletum profiscere. Insistendum fletibus Esset si quia tahbus Posset reviviscere. Quare non consideras Quia dum te macheras' Nichil prodes mortuo ? Quare tu non respicis, (iuia nichil (proficis) Ut jam vivat denuo P [Put away weeping, wo entreat, for we can bring nothing about by weeping. We might persist in lamentations if by such any one could be brought back to life. Why do you not consider, because while you torment yourself, you nothing profit the dead 'i Why have you no regard, because you can in no way biing about that now he should live once more ?] Jesus shall say to His I}iscijile,i : ^ In Judeam iterum Nos oportet pergere, Ubi quiddam paululum Decrevi peragere. [We must go again into Judca, where there is a certain small work that I have determined to complete.] To whom the Disciples shall say : Te nuper lapidibus volebant obruere ; Et vis tamen iterum in Judeam tenderc ? [They of late sought to strike thee down with stones ; and wilt thou, nevertheless, go again into Judea Y] Ami Jesus to them : Ecce dormit Lazarus, quem decet ut visitem : Vadam illuc igitur, ut a somno excitem. [Behold, Lazarus sleepeth, whom it is iit that I should visit : I will go thither, therefore, that I may awake him out of sleep.] i ' Maceraa TO A.D. IISO.] RELIGION. 4t The Disciples again : Postquuni dorniit, salvus erit; .Salus eiiim soumum querit. [After he sleeps, lie shall lie well ; for health demands sleep.] Jesus again to t/tem : Non est sieut tieditis : immo jam def unctus est ; Sed in Patris nomine nobis suseitandus est. [It is not as ye believe : on the contrary, he is aheady dead ; but in the name of the Father he is to be raised up to us.] £i(t Thomas shall sag : Ergo nos proficiscamus Et cum illo moriamur. [Therefore let us ijo and die with him.] Afterwards Martha shall sag to Jes/is : Si venisses primitus, Uol en ai, Kon esset hie gemitus. ISais frere, perdu vos ai. Quod in ^-ivum poteras, l)ol en aij Hoc defuncto conferas. Mdis frere, perdu vos at. Petis patrem quid libet ; Dol en ai, Statiin pater exibet. Bais frere, perdu vos ai. [If thou hadst come at first, Grief for it have I, There had not been this sobbing. Darling brother, I have lost you. \Vhat you had power for on the living, Grief for it have I, This confer thou on the dead. Darling brother, I have lost you. Ask of the Father what you will, Grief for it have I, At once the Father -fdW. give it. Darling brother, I have lost you.] Jesus shall sag : Nunc comprimas has lacrj-mas et luctum qui te urgct. Frater tuus est mortuus, sed facile resurget. [Restrain now these tears and this lament that presses upon thee. Thy brother is dead, but readily will rise again.] And she to him : Kexiu'gere et vivere Fratrem meum affirmo, Tunc dcnique cum utique Rexurget omnis homo. [I know that my brother shall rise and live, then at last when in any case everj- man shall rise.] And Jesus again : Immo, soror, non despera. Nam sum ego vita vera ; Et quioimque credet ita Vivet in me, qui sum vita. Et qui vivens in me credet, Mors ad ilium non accedet . Credis, Martha, fore verum Quod sit talis ordo rerum 'r [Nay, sister, do not despair, for I am the true way, and whoever shall so believe shall live in me who am life. And 70 he who li\'ing shall believe in me, death shall not approach to him. Do you beKeve, Martha, that it is true that such is the order of things f ] But Martha shall answer : Te Christum, Dei filium. Ad hoc nostrum exihuni Venisse in auxUium Ego credo. [I believe thee Christ, the Son of God, to have come for our help to this our plitce of exile.] Martha, telling Mary that Jesus has come, shall sag : Jesus adest, soror carissima ; Cesset luctus et cesset lacrima. Ipsum prece flectas humillima, Ut redeat ad fratrem anima. [Jesus is here, dearest sister. Let cease the grief, let cease the tear. Bend thou himself by humblest prayer that the soul may retui-n to our brother.] Theu Marg shall sag to Jesus : NulUus solaeio Mea desolacio Valet unquam auferri. Sed credo consilium Per te, Dei tilium, Posse mi hi conferri. Tu ergo qui potens es Qui mittis {sic) et clemens es Ad tumulum venito. Fratrem meum suscita, Qucm mors carni debita Surripuit tam cito. [By the solace of no man can my desolation ever be taken away. But I beUeve that help can be brought to me through thee, the Son of God. Come, therefore, to the tomb, thou who art powerful, and merciful and mild, raise up my brother, whom death due to the flesh seized so suddenly.] And Jesus to her : Volo, soror, volo multum Mc deduci ad sepultum, Ut in vitam revocetur Qui a morte detinetur. [I desire, sister, I desire greatly to he brought down to the buried man, that he may be called back into life who is held from you by death.] But she, leading Jesus to the sepulchre, shall sag : Hie cum posuimus, Ecue locus, Domine. Quem in patris poseimus Suscitari nomine. [Here we deposited him ; behold the place, O Lord. Him whom we ask to be raised up in the name of the Father.] Jesus to those standing around : SustoUatis lapidcm qui superest tunuilo, Ut rexurgat Lazarus coram omni poimlo. [Lift ye up the stone which is upon the tomb, that Lazarus may arise in presence of all the prople.] 42 CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [k.i>. 1180 T/ici/ slmll sail : Kptorem non poteris siistint'ii! moitni : Nnmque ferens gravitiT fumis est quatriJui. [Thou wilt not be able to bear tlin stench of the dead, for bpjirins him lieavily the funeral was four days since.] Then Jcsati, looHiir/ i(p >"to Ih-nvvii, xhiill pritij thii.i to the Fiither : Pater, verbum tuum clarifica, Lazarumque, precor, vivifica. 8i(: ttliuin inundo notifica, Pater, in hae hora. Ncc hoc dixi in difidencia, Sed pro j^'entis hujus presentia, Ut do tua corti potcncia Oredant abscjue mora. [Father, make thy word manifest and, I pray thee, give life unto I>:i/,arus, so deelant thy Son to the world, Father, in this hour. Nor have I said this throush want of faith, but because of the presence of this people, that, certain of thy power, they may believe without delay.] Then shall he mij to the chad : O Ijazare, foras egi-edere, Aurc dono vitalis uteris ; In patemc virtutis munerc, E.xi foras, et vita fruerc. [0 Laz.arus, eoiue forth, I give thee to use vital air. By thepiit of the Father's jjowor, come forth, and enjoy life.] Then aftii Lazarus shall hai'c risni, Jesus shall sail : Fjcce vivit ; nunc i;isuui solvite, l''.t solutura abire sinite. [liuhold hi' lives him to KO hence.] now loose him, and when loosened, siiii'er Lazarus unbound shall say to the hijslanilrrs : Ecce que sunt Dei mag-nalia. Vos vidistis et hee et alia. Ipse celum fecit et maria ; Mors ad ejus tremit imperia. ^ behold what are the mighty things of God. You have »een both these and others. He made the heaven and the peas; death trembles at his command.] And having turned to Jrsns he shall sag : Tu magister, tu rex, tu Dominus. Tu populi delcbis facinus. Quod precipis, illud fit protinus. Rcgni tui non erit terminus. [Thou Miustcr, thou King, thou Lord, thou wilt wash away the sin of the people. What thou orderest is straightway done. Of thy kingdom there shall be no end.] Tmeh being finished, if it was dene at Matins, Lazarus shall befm Te Deum Laudamus. But if at Vespers, Magnifieat anima mea Dominum. Giraldus Cambrensi.s, wliieli means Gerald of Wales, was Gerald de Barri, born m the castle of Manorbeer, a little west of Tenliy. He A\-as the scholar of a. liatriotic tightins family, as patriotic as any other of Ills kindred, and combatant with spiritual weapons for the Church of Wales. His ambition was to form in Wales a national church, with its primate at St. David's, and to make it a church free from the corruption that had come of wealth and ease. He was eager, as a strict Churchman, for church reform ; became an archdeacon at si.\-and-twenty. and would have been made Bishoi) of St. David's if the King of Enghuid co>ild have trusted at the head of the Welsh Church a man so able and uncompromising, and so full of zeal for his own people. Henry II. liked Gerald ])ersonally, made him one of his chaplains, used him in the pacilication of Wales, and sent him with Prince John upon his unsuccessful Irish expedi- tion. Gerald's energy caused him to make much use of hLs pen, and this visit of his to Ireland in 118.5 caused him to write a "To]iography of Ireland," and a. " History of the Coiiipiest of Ireland." The zeal with which he sought to restore purity of life to Cliurchmcn did not prevent Gei'ald from sharing the ready faith of his timt.' in any marvel that ap])eared to show the power of God, the full devotion to Him of holy men, or Gotl's love to His faithful servants. Simi)lest traditions of the country-side were in the twelfth century accepted by a singularly shrewd, vigorous, and earnest man with unquestioning faith, when there was worship at the heart of them. Thus, in his " Topography of Ireland," one book is upon its geogi-aphy and natural history ; and here the chapter on the eagle is developed into religious allegory after the manner of the Bestiaries. The next Ijook is on the " Wonders and Minicles of Ireland," and the next on its '" Inhabitants." Here are, as told by Giraldtis Cambreusis, a few miracles of a saint, said to have been born in the year 498, and to have founded an abbey in the wilderness of Glenda- lough (the valley of the two lakes) in tlie Wicklow Mountains : — MIIl.%.CLES OF ST. KEVIN. When St, Kevin had become celebrated for liis life and sanctity at Ulendalough, a noble boy, one of his scholars, happened to fall sick, and had a ei-aving for some apples. The saint, talcing compassion on him, and having prayed to the Lord, a %villow-troe, which stood near the church, bore apples, to the relief of the Ijoy as well as of other sick persons. And even to the present day that willow, and other sets from it, planted in the neighbouring cemetery, produce apples every year, as if it were an orchard, although in other respects, such as their boughs and leaves, the trees retain their natural properties. These apples are white, and of an oblong shape, and 7iior(.' wholesome than pl,-^asant to the taste. They are held in great reverence by the natives, who call them St. Kevin's apples ; and many «irry them to the most distant parts of Ireland, as remedies for various diseases. On the feast-day of the same saint, the ravens at Glenda- lough, in consequence of his curse for his scholars haAang accidentally spilt their milk, neither come on the ground nor taste food; but, flying round the \'iUage and church, and making a loud cawing, enjoy no rest or refreshment on that day, St, Kevin, upon some occasion, when, during the season of TO A.D. 118H._1 RELIGION. U Lent, he had dod, as he was wont, from converse with men, retired to a little cabin in the wilderness, where, sheltered only from the sun and rain, he gave himself up to contem- plation, and spent all his time in reading and prayer. One morning, ha^-ing raised his hand to heaven, as was his custom, through the window, it chanced that a blackbird pitched upon it and laid her eggs in his palm, treating it as her nest. The saint, taking pity on the bird, shewed so much gentleness and patience that he neither drew in nor closed his hand, but kept it extended and adapted it to the purpose of a nest, without wcarj-ing, imtil the young brood was entii'ely hatched. In pci'petiml memory of this wonderful ocouiTence, all the images of St. Kc\-in throughout Ireland represent him with a blackbird in his i xtended hand. The next cliajrter tell.s some wondei-s about .ST. uolman's teal. There is in Lcinster a small pool frequented by the birds of St. Colman, a species of small ducks, vulgarly called teal (cerccllte). Since the time of the saint, these birds have become so tame that they take food from the hand, and until the present day exhibit no signs of alarm when approached by men. They are always about thirteen in number, as if they formed the society of a convent. As often as any evil chances to befall the church or clergj', or the little birds themselves, or any molestation is offered them, they directly fly away, and, betaking themselves to some lake far removed from thence, do not return to their former haunts until con- tUgn puni.shment has overtaken the offenders. Meanwhile, during their absence, the watere of the pond, which were before very limpid and clear, become stinking and putrid, imfit for the use either of men or cattle. It has happened occasiomilly thiit some person fetching water from this pond in the night-time, has drawn up with it one of the birds, not purposely, but by chance, and having cooked his meat in the water for a long time without being able to boil it, at kist he has found the bird swimming in the pot, quite unhurt; and, ha\Tng canicd,it back to the pond, his meat was boiled without further delay. It happened, also, in our time, that as Robert Fitz-Stephen, with Dennot, king of Leinster, was passing through that country, an archer .shot one of these birds with an arrow. Oarrj'ing it with him to his quarters, he put it in a pot to be cooked with liis meat, but after thrice suppljdng the fire with wood, and waiting till midnight, he did not succeed in making the pot boU, so that, after taking out the meat for the third time, he found it as raw as when he first placed it in the pot. At last, his host obs(;r\nng the little bird among the pieces of meat, and he:iiing that it was taken out of this pond, exclaimed, with tears — "Alas, me. that ever such a mis- fortune should have befallen my house, and have happened in it! For this is one of St. Colman's birds." Thereupon the meat being put alone into the pot, was cooked ^Ndthout further difficulty. 'ITie archer soon afterwards miserably expired. Jloreover, it chanceil that a kite, having can'ied off one of these little birds, and perched with it in a neighbouring tree, behold, all his limbs immediately stiffened in the .sisrht of many persons, nor did the robber regard the prey which he held in his claws. It also happened that one frosty .season a fox carried off one of these birds, and when the morning came, the beast w.as found in a little hut on the shore of the lake, which was held in veneration from its having been formerly the res monks tried to poison him for his strictness. He retired into the wilderness and founded twelve monasteries. Pei-secution of a priest named Florentinus drove him to Cassino in Campania. On Monte Cassino he is said to have destroyed a heathen temple and gi-ove, and to have founded on its site the tii'st and most famous monas- tery of his order, there j)Linning a strict rale, which he perfected in the year .'J29. His cloistered com- munity was to dwell together in constant meditation and laboiu-, and in strict obedience to the abbot, ser\Tng as a ty[je of their obedience to God. Women also afterwards joined themselves in such communi- ties for holy contemplation and repression of the flesh. The body of religious women to whom love of A Beskdictute Num. (Prom DugdaWs " Monosticon.") Christ was commendetl in a little discom-se on " The Wooing of Oiu- Lord," may have been Benedictines. I think, however, that Dr. Richard Morris, who has edited this and other " Old English Homilies and Homiletic Treatises of the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries," shows good reason for identifying its author with the writer of a piece called the ' Ancren Pdwle," the Rule of the Anchores.ses. That author 46 CASSELL'S LIBRAE Y OF ENGLISH LITEKAT UKE. [a.u. i:;oo was prol)al>l.v Bislio]) Poor, who died in 1237, aud lies Imiicd in his ciitluidral churcli at Salisbury. His link? of the Anchoresses \\!is written for a small coinuiunity consistinj; only of three i)ious ladies and their domestics or lay sisters at Tarrant Kaines, or Kinjjston, near Crayford Bridge, in Dorsetshire. Tiie house remained a religious home, and was after- wards incorporated with the Cistercian order ; but the author of the " Kid(>" written for their instruction said, " If any ignorant man ask you of what order ye are, say that ye are of the Order of St. James. If siu'h answer seem strange and singular to him, ask him. What is Order, and where he can find in Scrij)- ture Religion more plainly described than in the canonical epistle of St. James ^ He saith what Religion is, and right Order : ' Pure Religion and without stain is to visit and assist widows and orphans, and to keep oneself unsjjotted from the world.' Thus doth St. James describe Religion aud Order." The Rule written for the Anchoresses is in eight parts, and treats (1) of Devotional Services, (2) of th(! Government of the External Senses in keeping the Heart, (3) Moral Lessons and Examples, Reasons for Embracing a Monastic Life, (4) of Temptations and the means of Avoiding and Resisting them, (.')) of f!onfession, (fi) of Penance and Amendment, (7) of Love or Gharity, (iS) of Domestic and Social Duties. Probably fi>r the same community, possibly for another convent of women who had turned from earthly wooing to set all their love on Christ, the writer of the "Ancren Riwle" wrote this piece called — THE WOOINO OF OUK LOIU). Jcsii. .-iwoc't Jcsu, my love, my darling, my Lord, my Saviour, my hoiiuy-dioi), niy balm I sweeter is the remeni- Lraufi' of thuc than honey in the mouth. Who is there that may not love thy lovely face ? what heart is there so h.'ird that may not melt at the remembrance of thoe ? Ah ! wlio may not love thee, lovely Jesu ? For within thee alone are all things joined that over may make any man wortliy of love to anotlicr. Beauty, and lovcsomc face, flesh white under clothing, make many a man the ratlier and the more to be beloved. Gold and Treasures and Wealth of this world cause some to be beloved and imiist^d. t)thers for theu' Generosity and Libirality, that prefer gi-aeiously to give than niggardly to withhold. Hume for their Wit and Wisdom and worldly prudence: and others for Might and Strength, to be distinguished and liravi' in tight to maintain their rights. Soiue are loved for tlieir Nobility and higlmess of Birth : others for Virtue, and Politeness, and their fuidtless Manners. Some for Kindness, and Meekness, and goodness of heart .and d(;ed ; and yet, above all this, nature causes friends of Kin to love one .another. Jesu, my precious darling, my love, my life, my beloved, my mo.st worthy of love, my heart's balm, my soul's sweet- ness, thou art Lovesome in countenance, thou art altogether l)riglit. All angel's life is to look upon thy face, for thy cheer is so man-cUously lovesome and pleasant to look upon, that if the damned that boil in hell might eternally see it, all that torturing pitch would ai)pear but a soft warm bath ; for, if iv might be so, they had rather boil evermore in woe and evermore look upon that blissful beauty, than be in all Ijliss and forego the sight of thee. Thou art so shining and so white, that the sun would be pale if it were beside thy blissful countenance. If I then will love any man for fair- ness I will love thee, my dear life, mother's fairest son. Ah, Jesu, my sweet Jesu, grant that the love of thee be all my delight. But now I will choose my beloved fur Wealth; for every- where with chattels one may buy love. But is there any one richer than thou, my beloved, that reignest in heaven, thou that art the renowned kaiser that has created all this world i for as the holy prophet David says, " The eartli is the Lord's and all that tills it, the world and all that lives therein;" heaven mth the mirths and the immeasui-abk- blisses, all is thine, my .iweet one, and all thou wilt give me, if I love thee aright. I cannot give my love to any man for a sweeter possession. I will hold then to thee, my beloved, and love thco for thyself, and for thy love forsake all other things that might draw and turn my heart from thy love. Ah ! Jesu, sweet Jesu, grant that the love of thee be all my delight. But what is wealth and world's weal worth without Liber- ality ? And who is more free than thou, for first thou didst make all this world and didst put it under my feet, and diiist make me lady over aU thy creatures that thou didst create on earth, but I miserably lost it tlu-ough my sins. Ah 1 lest I should lose all, thou gavest thyself to mc, to deliver mc from pain. If I will love then any one for liberaUty, I wiU love thee, Jesu Christ, most free beyond all othei-s ; for other libi :ral men give these outward things, but thou didst give Thyself for mc, that thou eouldst not withhold thy own heart's blood. A dearer love- token gave never any beloved to .another. And thou that gavest me tirst all thyself, thou hast promised me, my beloved, the gift, all to myself, to reign on thy right hand, crowned with thyself. Who is then more generous than thou j' who, for largess, is better worthy of being beloved than thou, my dear life ': Ah ! Jesu, sweet Jesu, gi-ant that the love of thee be all my delight. But largess is worth little when Wisdom is lacking. And if that I will love any man for wisdom, there is none wiser than thou, that art called the wisdom of thy Father in heaven; for He through thee, that art wisdom, created all this world, and ordereth it and divideth it, as it seemeth best. Within thee, my dear love, is hidden the trcasm'e of all wisdom, as the book bears witness. Ah ! Jesu, sweet Jcsu, grant that the love of thco be all my delight. But many a man through his Strength and Courage also makes himself beloved and esteemed. And is any so hardy as thou art ? Nay ; for tliou alone dreadcst not with thine own dear body to tight against all the terrible devils of hell ; that whichever of them is least loathsome and horrible, if he might, such as he is, show himself to man, aU the world would be afraid to behold him alone, for no man may see him and remain in his wits, imless the grace and strength of Christ embolden his heart. Thou art moreover herewith so immensely mighty that, with thy precious hand nailed on the rood, thou boundest the hell-dogs, and bereftest them of their prey which they had greedily grasped and held it fast on account of Adam's sin. Thou brave renowned champion robbedst hell-house, and deliveredst thy prisoners, and broughtest them out of the house of death, and leddest them with thyself to thy jewelled bower, the abode of eternal bliss: wherefore of thee, my beloved, was it truly said, "The Lord is mighty, strong and keen in battle." And therefore if a stalwart lemman please me, I will love thee, Jesu, strongest over all, so that thou mayest fell the strong TO A.D. 1237.] RELIGION. f , s of my soul ; and that the strength uf thee may help luv great weakness, and thy boldness embolden my hciui. All ! Jesu, sweet Jesu, grant that the love of thee be all my delight. But noble men and gentle and of high Birth often obtain the love of women at a very small cost ; for oftentimes m:iny a woman loses her honour thi-ough the love of a man that is of high birth ; then, sweet Jesu, upon what higher m.an may I set my love ':" where may I a more gentle man choose than thou, that art the king's son, that wieldest this world, and art king equal with thy father, king over kings, and lord over lords ? and yet, with respect to thy manhood, bom thou wast of Mary, a maiden meekest of mood ; child of royal birth, of king Da%-id's kin, of Abraham's race. No higher bii'th than this is there under the sun. I will love thee, then, sweet Jesu, as the most noble life that ever lived on earth, and also because in all thy life never was any vice found, my dear faultless beloved one ; and that came to thee of birth and of nurture, because thou didst ever dwell in the com-t of heaven. Ah ! my precious lord ; so noble and so gracious; suffer me never to settle my love on churlish things, nor to desire earthly things nor fleshly tilings in preference to thee, nor to love against thy will. -Vh ! Jesu, sweet Jesu, grant that the love of thee be aU my delight. Meekness and Slildness make a man everywhere to be beloved ; and thou, my dear Jesus, for thy great meekness wast compaied to a lamb, because anent all the wrong and the shame that thou sulteredst, and anent all the woe and the painful wounds, thou never openedst thy mouth to luumiur against it ; and yet the shame and the wrong, that I he sinful each day do imto thee, thou sufilerest meekly; nor dost thou take vengeance immediately after our sins, but long awaitcst our repentance, through thy mercy. Since thy goodness may cause thee everywhere to be beloved, therefore is it right that I love thee and leave all others for thee, for thou hast shown gi'eat mercy toward me. Ah ! Jesu, sweet Jesu, gi-ant that the love of thee be all my dfihght. But because friends of Kin naturally love one another, thou clothest thyself with our ilesh; tookest man of her flesh, bom of a woman. Thy flesh took of her flesh without commerce of man; took fully, with that same flesh, man's nature to suffer all that man may suft'er, to do all that man doth, except sin alone ; for thou hadst neither sin nor ignorance. Then against nature goes each man who loveth not such a kinsman, and leaveth all others. Seeing that truer love ought to be amongst brethren, thou becamegt man's brother of one father, with all those that sing Pater noster in purity ; but thou art a son through nature, and we through gi-ace, and man of that same flesh that we bear on earth. Ah ! whom may he love truly who loveth not his brother : then whosoever loveth not thee is a most ivicked man. Xow, my sweet Jesu, I have left for thy love flesh's kinship, and yet born-brothers have cast mo aside, but I reck of nothing whilst I hold thee, for in thee ;done may I find aU friends. Thou art to me more than father, more than mother. Brother, sister, or friends, none are to be esteemed as anj-thing in comparison with thee. Ah ; Jesu, sweet Jesu, grant that the love of thee be aU my delight. Thou then with thy Beauty, thou with thy Kiches, thou with thy Liberality, thou with Wit and Wisdom, thou with thy Might and Strength, thou with nobleness of Birth and graciousness, thou with Meekness and mildness and great gentleness, thou with Kinship, thou with all the things that one may purchase love with, hast bought my love : but above all other things thou makest thyself worthy of love to me, through those hard liorrible injuries, and those shamefid wrongs that thou didst suffer for me. Thy bitter pain and thy passion, thy sharp death on the rood, rightly tells upon all my love, and challenges all my heart. Jesus, my hfc's love, my heart's sweetness, three foes fight again.st me, and yet may I sore di-ead for then- blows ; and it behovi'S me, through thy grace, prudently to guard myself against the world, my flesh, and the devil. The homily then dwells tipon the peril of man and ChrLst's suifering and death for his salvation. Tlien it proceeds : — Lady, mother, and maiden, thou didst .stand here fuU nigh, and sawest all this sorrow upon thy precious son. Thou wast inwardly martyred within thy motherly heart when thou sawest his heart cloven asunder with the spear's point. But, Lady, for the joy that thou hadst of his resurrection the third day thereafter, grant me to understand thy son-ow arid heartily to feel somewhat of the sori'ow that thou then hadst ; and that I may help thee to weep because he so bitterly redeemed me with his blood, so that I, with him and with thee, may rejoice in my resurrection at doomsday, and be with thee in bliss. Jesus, sweet Jesu, thus thou foughtest for me against my soul's foes ; thou didst settle the contest for me with thy liudy, and niadest of me. wretch, thy beloved and spouse. Thou ha.st brought me from thi; world into the bower of thy birth, enclosed me in thy cham- ber wliere I may so sweetly kiss and embrace thee, and of thy love have spiritual delight. Ah ! sweet Jesu, my life's love, with tliy love hast thou redeemed me, and from the world thou hast brought me. But I now may say with the P.salmist, Quid retribitam Domino pro omnlbtis qua- rttrlhttd iiilhl — Lord, what may I requite thee for aU that thou hast given me ! What may I suffer for thee for all that thou didst endure for me ! But it is nectltul for me that thou be easy to satisfy. A wretched body and a weak I bear on earth, and that, such as it is, I have given thee, and will give to thy .service. Let my body hang with thy body nailed on the rood, and enclosed transversely within four walls ; and hang I will with thee, and never more come from my cross until I die; for then .shall I leap from the rood into rest, from woe to weal and into etemal bliss. Ah ! Jesus, so sweet it is with thee to hang; for when I look on thee* that hangest beside me, the great sweetness of thee bereaves me of many pains. But, sweet Jesus, what is my body worth in comparison with thine ? for if I might a thousand- fold give thee myself, it would be nothing compared to thee that gavest thyself for me ; and yet I have a heart, vili^ and unworthy, and destitute and poor of all good lii-tues ; and that, such as it is, take to thyself now, dear life, with true love, and suffer me never to love anything against thy will, for I may not set my love better anywhere than on thee, Jesu Clirist, that didst redeem it so dearly. There is none so worthy to be loved as thou, sweet Jesu, that hast in thyself all things for which a man ought to be love-worthy to another. Thou art most worthy of my love, thou that didst die for the love of me. Yet if I offered my love for sale and set a value thereupon, as high as ever I will, yet thou wilt have it, and moreover to what thou hast given thou wilt add more ; and, if I love thee aright, wilt crown me in heaven to reign with thyself, world without end. Ah ! Jesu, sweet Jesu, my love, my beloved, mj- Hfe. my dearest love, that didst love me so much that thou didst die for the love of me, and hast separated me from the world, and hast made me thy spouse, and all thy bliss 48 CASSELL'8 LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [i.D. 1200 hast promised mo, gr.int that the love of thee he all my delight. Pniy for me, my dear sister. This have I written thee because that words often please the heart to think on our liord. And therefore, when thoti art in ease, speak to Jesii, and sjiy these words; and think as though he hung beside thee bloody on the rood ; and may he, through his grace, open thine heart to the love of him, and to ruth of his pain.' The English poem by Layamon, " The Brut," in more than .'Jl',000 lines, which, at the beginning of the thirteenth century, developed Geoffrey of Monmouth's " History of the British Kings " into national poetry with enlargement of its Arthurian traditions, will be described in the volume of this Library which treats of larger works not sjjecially religious. Produced, perhaps, a few yeai-s later than Layamon's " Brut " (which was finished about the year 1205), and of about the same date as the " Ancren Riwle," and " The Wooing of Our Lord," was a long religious woi'k in verse, " The Ormulum." This is named after its author, who calls himself at the opening of his work, Orm — "This hook is nemned Ormulum, Forthi that Orm it wrote." But he evidently there writes only Orm to account for the first syllable of Ormulum, since, at the close of the dedication, the lines immediately preceding those which open the poem itself were — " I that this English have set English men to hire, I was there there I christened was Ormin by name nemned. And 1 Oniiin full inwardly AV^ith mouth, and eke with heart" Beg Christians who hear the book read or who read it, to pray for my soul. What we know of Ormin we learn from himself; and as his work is not of a kind to yield internal evidence of date, there is only the language from which to infer the time when it was written. He was a canon regidar of the order of St. Augustine, and at the request of Brother Walter, also an Augustinian canon, he planned and executed his work, of which the object was — as fiir as the Church allowed — to brijig the Gospel story, and the teaching founded on it, straight home, Lii their own tongue, to the undersfcmding of the people. The English conscience never was at ease with a mere reading of the Bible to the people in an unknown tongue. If that Book was the foundation of theii- faith, it was felt that they should luive it to build on. The honest fear of the Church was that if ignorant men read the Bible for themselves they would interpret It bhndly for themselves, and there would lie ruin of souls by the diffusion of heresies ; therefore in Ormin's time, and long after, the Book of Psalms ' This translation is substantially that given by Dr. Morris, with the original test, in his excellent edition of " Old English Homilies," already mentioned. was the only part of Scripture which it was per- mitted to translate. In Fii-st-English days, not only was there a translation of the Psalms ascribed to Aldhelm, but there was translation by ^Ifric of the Pentateuch, and the books of Joshua, Judges, part of the books of Kings, Esther, Job, Judith, and the Maccabees. Also, as we have seen, the Gospels were translated for the people and divided into sections, that they uught every year be read through in the churches. And now that they were being read still, although in Latin, Brother Ormin's care was to provide for the people in a sort of rhythm, through which pleasant tales might be told to them by the wayside and " on ember-eves and holy-ales," the whole series of those portions of the New Testament that were read in the daily offices of the Church, each Gospel being associated with a little homily of explanation, doctrinal and practical, often containing ideas borrowed from Bede or vElfric. There is only one MS. of the " Ormulum," and that is in the collection given by Francis Junius to the Bodleian Library at Oxford. Though of con- siderable extent, it is but a fragment. Homilies weie ^vl■itten by Ormin for all, or nearly all, the daily services of the year, and of these there are left us only thirty-two. Oraiin's vei-se is seldom rhymed, and is without alliteration, imitating a mediaeval Latin rhythm in verses of fifteen syllables in t\vo sections, the metrical point being placed at the end of the eighth syllable, or fourth foot, and the fifteenth syllable unaccented, almost always a syllable of inflection, e, en, or ed. In his writing Ormin used a device which was perhaps meant to heljj a Nor- man-English reader of his lines to such pronuncia- tion of them as would be underetood by the jieople for whose benefit they were written. He always doubled the consonant after a short vowel in the same word, and avoided doubling it after a long vowel. This duplication is, in fact, a special charac- teristic of the written English of the " Ormulum." OrniLn's work was, then, a putting of the entire Gospel history into verse, with a running com- mentary of doctiine and exhortation, in a form that would be welcome to the people's ears, and with provision that whoever recited any part of it foi' their mstruction should, as far as he could contrive, not make a dead language of its English, or take the pleasantness out of his rhythm by pronouncing it amiss. "And whoso," he says to the copyists, "shall will to write this book again another time, I bid him that he write it rightly, so as this book teacheth him entirely as it Ls upon this first pattern, with all such rhyme a.s is here set, mth just as many words, and that he look well that he write a letter twice where it upon this Ijook is written in that wse." Here is the whole of one of Ormin's metrical Homilies. It is upon Christ's Teaching of Nicodemus (St. John, chapter iii.). Tlie opening of the homily I give in Ormin's English, with interlinear translation, and then modernise the rest, but without attempting to reproduce, in our nninflected language, the weak fifteentli syllable once formed by an inflection, and of which the nntsic was often imitated bj- adding TO i.D. 1250.] RELIGION. 10 an "O" or an " a " ' to a line after the inflections dis- appeared : — " Sic Dous dilexit mundum ut filium sumn unigenitum daiet." — John iii. 16. Christ's teaching of mcodemus. Thurrh thatt te Laferrd se^jrde - thuss Ih that the Lord saitl thus Till Xicodein withth worde : To y'tcotU'tnus with word : Swa lufede the Laferrd Godd So lovid the Lord God The weielld tatt he senndr- The World that he sent His az/henn sune Allmahhtiy Godd His own Son Almighty God To wurrthcn maun onn ci-the To become man on earth To lesenn manukinn thurrh hiss death To release mankind through his death Vt off the defless walde. Out of the dt viCs power, Thatt whase trowwenn shall onn himrii 7'hat whosoever shall believe in him Wei mu(?he wiirrthenn borri/heim : Surely^ may beeome sared ; Tha!r thunh he dide Nicodem By that he caused Nicodemus To sen and unnderrstanndenn, To see and understand Thatt he wass Godd himm sellf, oft Godd. That he was God himself, from God. And Godess Sune ankcnncdd. And God's Son acknowledged. And wurrthenn munn o moder h:illf And become man on mother s side Thurrh sothfasst herrsumnmesse, Through faithful obedience, Thurr-thatt his Faderr haffdc himm sennd Because his Father had sent him And gifenn himm to manne, And given him for man. To tholenn death o rode tre To suffer death on the cross Forr all mannkinne nede, For all mankind's need, 20 All thurrh thatt lufe, and thurrh thatt lusst All through that lore and through that desire That teyjr till mannkinn haifdemi, That they hud towards mankind. Forth withth thatt Hall.,?he Frofre frast Also the Holy Ghost, the Conforter Thatt cumethth off hemm bathe, That Cometh of them both, AU thurrh thatt lufe and tliurrh thatt lusst All through that love and through that desire 49 ' The measure is (though without rhyme) that of the old song from which Autolyciis sings in the " Winter's Tale " — " A merrj heart goes all the day Your sad tires in a mile-a." ' Sejjde. The it ilic q stands for the g softened to y or j/i sound, and represented at one time hy a letter like 3. ' The old common use of the word mXl as an intensive, still found in idiomatic phrase? as " ireXl on in years," or " icc!!-nigh dead," or "you may ircll say that," is so far weakened that its sense is some- times better given by another word. 71 30 That Xugg till mannkinn haffden, That they had towards mankind, To lesenn menn oft deUess band To release men from bonds of the devil. And ut off helle pine. And out of he pum of hell. That whase trowwenn sholldn o Crist That whoso should bcieee on Christ Wei shoUde wunthen borr^heu. Surely should be saved. Whi seggi.fi Crist to Nicodem Why said Christ to Nieodemus That Drihhtin Godd off heffne That the Lord God of Heaven Swa lufede thiss middell lerd, -So loved this mid-earth, Thiss werelld, tatt he sennde This world, that he sent Hiss ai7henn Sune Allmahhtijr Godd, His own Son, Almighty God, To tholenn dieth o rode. To suffer death on the cross, AIs iff he shoUde lesenn ut So that he should deliver The middell a;rd off heUe ' The mid-earth from hcllf Thurrh whatt wass heffness whel fon-guirt For xehat leas heaven s wheel {the firmament) coin- To drei/hen helle pine ? [pelled To suffer pain of hell ? 4(1 And lifft, and land, and watenflod, And air, and land, and waterjlood. Hu waerenn i'higg forrwrohhte How were they condemned To drei/henn wa withth mikeU rihht To suffer woe with much right Inn helle withth the defeU ? In hell with the devil ? Off thise fowre shaftte iss all Of these four created things [elements) is all Thiss middell werelld timmbrcdd, This middle world built, — Of heffness whel and off the lilft. Of the firmament and of the air, Off waterr, and off erthe ; Of water and of earth ; And i tha fowre shafftess niss And in these four elements is {not) Nowwtherr, — ne lif ne sawle Neither — nor life, nor soul 50 That mihhte gilltenn ani^ gillt That might be guilty of any guilt And addlenn helle pine. And deserve pain of hell. We ought to know now that for ut The World hero signities Created thing that was condemned To suffer pain of hell. The World here signifies for us The race of man alone ; ^^d since man's body is mndi/ up Of what is in the world : SO Of heaven's fire, and of the air Of water, and of earth : And since man's Soul is tluough the world Here surely sigm£ed, 50 CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [a.d. 1200 For both of them full into om^ After the Grcokish speech, For Cosmos ' all the world is ealled, So as the Greeks explain, Because it worthily is clothed With sun and moon and stars .■Ul round about the tirmament, Through tJod that wrought it so ; And eke it worthily is clothed, That know'st thou well for sooth, With air and land and watcr-iiood With creatures manifold, Th(! Soul, too, worthily is clothed By t4od, after its kind. With immortality, also With wit and will and mind ; And therefore saith the Lord om- God The Soul is his likeness, For that they both, the Soul and God, Arc ever without end. And they have mind, and will and wit, But not upon one wise : For always God hath it in Him, Aud over and aye it had ; The Soul receives her excellence All from the hand of God, AVHun-e'cr he shapeth Soul from nought All as himself shall please. And the World therefore in this place But signities mankind, For both of them fall into one Even as I have shown : For either worthily is clothed, But not upon one wise, .Vnd yet the clothing of them both . (_'o9mos will signify. .\nd Man therefore thou mayest CiiU After the (ireekish speech, Microcosmos, the which we call After thi^ English speech. The little World, and all for this : Because tlie Soul of man God has clothed worthily and well With God and righteousness. .Vnd even as this World is clothed With creatures beautiful. The World also may signify JIankind therefore the better. Because man's body is made up And wrought of creatures four, — Of heaven's fire, and of the air. Of water, aud of earth. -Vud therefore hero the World must mean < Inly the race of ilan That Word of God was sent by God To loosen out of hell. And of the Son of Man, and Son Also of God, of both. 70 80 90 Chi-ist here hath told to Nicodeme The one truth in these words : That whoso shall believe on him He surely shall be saved. And that was said as if he thus With open speech had said : For this I have come down from Heaven To be a man on earth, That whoso shall believe in me And shall obey my laws, AVorthy .shall he be with me To have eternal bliss. But this Christ said to Nicodeme That he might understand That he himself was God and Slan, One person, that should save Mankind from hell and give to men To win the bliss of heaven. 130 140 100 110 120 ' Cosmos. The Greek Kutr^a? means in the first instance order (from Ko^ittj, I take care of), that which depends ou thouglit aud care; order (if dress, clothes (the sense ou which Onuin here dwells); order of liehaviour ; order of private life ; order of a state ; order or system of the universe. The range of the word is from the divine order that fills the world with beauty down to Livia's cosmetic— " A li<;lit fucus To touch you o'er withal." (Ben Jonson's " Sejanus.") Man's Peril ani» Safety. From Cotton. MS., Tiberias, B. v. And that the Lord hath there declared With words to Nicodeme, That the Almighty hath not sent His Son that he .should Judge This world, but that he should redeem It from the Devil's power ; — That said he then to cause him so To see and understand That ho was sent and made as man To rescue men from hell. Through love he bore himself, and through Love of his Father too And Holy Ghost, the Comforter, Proceeding from them both. Through that he was not come down then To judge the people all, But in humiUty to save The world ^)y his own grace. And that he there to Nicodeme Yet spake thus of himself : "Whoso beheveth upon him That man is not condemned ; — 1.50 160 TO A.D. 1250.] RELIGION. 5i That was as if he had thus said To him with open speech : The man that shall believe on me And shall obey my laws, That same man will not be condemned To suffer pain of hell. And that he there to Nicodeme Yet spake thus of himself : 1 70 And whoso believes not in him With full and willing truth Already is condemned by God To suffer pain of hell ; — That was as if he had thus said To him with open speech : The man that believes not on me "With full and willing truth, But shall through haughtiness and hate Reject all that I teach, 180 Already is condemned by me To suffer pain of hell : For since that I am truly God Full easily I know All those in whom I shall be pleased A\Tio earn the bliss of heaven. And those by whom I shall be ^corucd Who earn the pain of hell, Of all the folk that from this day To Doomsday shall be bom. 190 For all the folk that ever was. And all that yet shall be, It is already judged and set In book, told, measm'ed out. By God, and now he secth all That each one man shall find. "What meed shall be the recompense Of each one for his deeds. The Highest how the doom shall go All knows, and ever knew, 200 For eye of God and wit of God All sees, all learns, all knows. Both that that was, and that that is. And that that yet shall be ; And if thou art redeemed that is All through the Lord God's grace. And through thy labour to win that. Strong with the Lord God's help. And if that thou art not redeemed. That is all through thy sin, 210 And through right doom thou'rt then condemned To suffer pain of hell According to what thou hast earned. And neither less nor more. And that he there to Kicodeme Yet spake thus of himself : And he that shall not upon him Believe, is now condemned Because that he believeth not As he ought to believe 220 Upon that one appointed name Of God's Son upon earth. On him that is of God the Lord Only begotten Son ; — That was as if he had said thus To him with open speech : That man who wliolly shall refuse To trust and to believe That I am by my Father sent, Made Saviour on earth, And whoso shall thiough hate and scorn, And thi-ough his pride of heart, iUy name all utterly despise That calls me Saviour, — The name that shall bring health to all Who ever shall be healed, The name that shall redeem all who ShaU ever be redeemed Through me that am of God the Lord Only begotten Son, Son so begotten that I am All one in Deity With Father and "with Holy Ghost Withouten ord and end,' That am come to choose many for My brethren upon earth That cheerfully shall persevere And do my Father's will. So tliat he shall hold aU of them For childi'on of His own And give them to abide with me Heirs of the heavenly realm. That am the only son of Him All one with him in kind, — The man who wholly shall refuse To trust this and believe, That man is now condemned and set To suffer pain of hell, Unless he can escape therefrom Before he come to die, Beb'eving that I am true God, True Saviour on earth. And that he there to Nicodem^ Yet spake thus of himself : That is the doom, that light and gleam Is come upon the earth, And men have no love for the light, But love the darkness more. Because that their own deed is all EvU and all imclean ; — That was as if he had said thus To him with other words : All that that any man shall be Condemned to bear in hell, AH that shall be for that he shall Neglect, scorn, and refuse To come imto the Christendom And to the right belief, To know me and to follow me. And in me to believe That am true light of truth and right And of the right belief. And, therefore, shall all those who are Known by the name of men Because they follow their own flesh In all its foul desires. 230 no 250 2C0 270 280 1 Ord and end, begmning and end. This is the original of our phrase "odds and ends." "Ord" was a First-English noun that meant "beginning." When it became obsolete, and the old phrase "ords and ends" still held its ground, the obsolete word was at last confounded with the nearest known word that resembled it. That is a not unusual process, to which we owe such phnises as " under the rose," " set the Tliames on fire," &c. 52 CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITE RATURE. [A.D. 1210 .\nd wholly put away and scorn To do Ihi) Sijirit's will ; And huto all that is dear to God jVnd love all evil ways, Are over lying deep in sin In many kinds of way That arc all openly enough Bv darkness signiKed, lieeause that sins will ever draw Towards the gloom of hcU, Away from heaven's light and gleam, The so'-ils that follow them, — Even as he that evil doth Aye flies from light of ilay. For him is loth that man him see Employed in his foul deeds, — Therefore, shall all that wicked flock Be sentenced to hell pain, Because that all their life on earth With darkness is beset In all the evil that man doth Through heathendom and wrong. Before that our Lord Christ was come To he a man on eartli, This middle world was wholly filled With gloomy shades of sin. Because that Christ, the world's true light. Was then not yet come down With his rebuke for all mankind Of heathendom and wrong. And with his showing what was good And what was evil deed, .\nd how a man might please his (iud And earn the bliss of heaven, And stand against the evil one. And turn himself from hell. .\nd after our Lord Christ was come To bo a man on earth. Thereafter was this middle earth Filled full of heaven's light. Because that our Lord Christ himself And his Disciples too. Both what w:is right aiul what was wrong Made kno'vn in all the lands, And how a man might please his God And earn tlio bliss of heaven. And many peoples haughtily Withstood and stiU denied. And turned them from the light of heaven And from the heavenly lore. Because they rather chose to be In darkness that they loved, To follow lusts of their own flesh In every kind of sin. Because they rather hated light That brought rebuke of sin. And other peoples woll received The gift of heavenly lore, -Vnd turned them to the Chi-i,stendom And to the right belief ; That is that very light and gleam That leadeth man to heaven ; And it received full inwardly By shrift and penitence, Accusing all their own misdeed And punishing themselves. 290 300 310 320 330 340 3o0 That they so long in heathendom Had angered the trui; Lord. And 80 they came into the Ught, Into the right belief In Jesus Christ our Saviour, ^^^lose name is Faitlii'ulness : For all that's ever true and right And good, and pleases God, Salvation for His handiwurl:, All comes by gi-ace of t'luist. And so they come into the light To shew and to make known That their deeds have been done aright By pattern of oui- Lord ; For all together did one thing Botli Christ and they themselves, — Christ has rebuked tncm for their wrong By teaching righteousness. And they also rebuke their wrong By shrift and penitence, — • So all together did one thing Both Christ and they themselves. And so through that was plainly seen That any good they did Was aU in God and all through God, Efltected by His help. And God Almighty grant us here To please Christ while we live. All pure in thought and pure in word. Pure mannered, pure in deed, So that we may be worthy found To win the grace of Clirist. Amen. 360 370 380 Side by side with this faitliful work tliere was umcli darkness gathering where light shouhl liave been brightest. At the beginning of the thirteentli century both the Dominican and the Franciscan brotlierhoods were founded to meet needs of the time with liigher spiritual efl'ort tha)i hatl come of late from the chief teachers in a church weakened by wealth and luxury. The founder of the Domini- cans was a Sjianiard, Dontingo, of the noble family of Guzmans, in the valley of the Douro. He jjitied the poor. In a famine year he sold even his cherished books to relieve them. But he had learnt in his books that the way to heaven was along one narrow line of orthodox opinion ; and when, after nine year.s of study at Osma, he travelled with his prior across a region of France cursed with the jiersecution of pure-minded heretics by orthodox priests who had neither knowledge wherewith to set forth, nor lives that would recommend, the o])inions of which they sought brutally to compel acceptance, Dominic felt the need of a right power to convince of error thoughtful and well-meaning men whom he devoutly believed to be astray on a path leading to eternal punishment. Most of tis now believe with Milton that there is more light in the world than shines in at our own windows. Few thought so then, and Dominic was profoundly .sincere, true also in deeds of life to his own deepest convictions, when he fotmded the order of Preaching Friars called after him Domini- cans. They were not to be monks, named from a Greek word that implied life in seclusion, but Fratres TO A.D. 1250.] RELIGION. 53 Friai-s, Brothers of men going amongst them, putting aside all workllv ambitions, and devoting themselves wholly to ditfusion of what they held to be the vital truths of God. They were to be practised in a profound stud}- of the .Scri[)tures, armed with knowledge, and trained to skill in its use that they might detect heresy in its beginnings, and triumph over it when at its strongest. The followei-s of Dominic, in the Black ix)be which gave them their name of Black Friars, were to be devoted guardians of the faith. Dominic's first foUowers adopted the rule of St. Augustine. They were first embodied with Pap;il assent in 1215 and 121(5 as Predicants or Preachi:ig Friars, after- wards called Dominicans trom their founder, and Black Friais from their dress. ThLs order also degenerated in the coui-se of time. It had a gi-eat house in the part of London still known as Black Friai-s, and from this house came, as we shall find, from the custodians of oi-thodoxy condemnation of what were regarded as the heresies of Wiclif. A DoniKlCAS. (From LhigdaJe's " yionastkort.") The Franciscan Order of Gray Friars or Minorites was founded nearly at the same time as the Domini- can, and represented another form of effbi-t to put truer life into the ministrations of the Church. Francis, son of a wealthy merchant, was bom in 1182 at Assisi, in LTmbria. He was twelve yeai-s yoimger than Dominic, whose birth year was 1170. Francis of Assisi, bred as a merchant, became deeply devout, pitied the ]POor, abandoned his own worldly wealth, and made it the work of his life to bring home to the poor the comforts of religion, as one * Eepresentations of the several religious orders that first appeared in the " Monasticon " were used airain for the " History of Warwiok- ehirc." who was separated from them by no worldly rank or wealth, and was drawn very close to them in brotherhood liy Christian love. Others who shared his enthusiasm gathered about him, all devoting themsehes to poverty ; and they formed an order of brothers, Fratres, Friai-s, for whom a rule was drawn up that had Papal approval in 1210, and was ap- proved by the Lateran Council in 1215. The enthu.siasm of Francis, and the reaction of many a pure heart from the worldliness that had crippled A Franciscan, (/■'-ok. l^>l'J'hll^:'s " Mottosticon,'] the Church, gathered so many to his ranks, that at a chapter of the order held m 1219, 5,000 Franciscan Friai's were present. The Franciscans m theii- early days would not allow great houses to be built for them. When a house of stone was built for them at Oxford, they had it pulled down and replaced by a building with mud walls, and it was jilaced in the lowest haunts of the })Oor. In London they lived by the shambles in a place called " Stinking Lane." They put aside the pride of knowledge, left book-leaming to the Dominicans, called tliem- selves the Lesser Friars, Fratres I\Iinores, Minorites, and tnisted to humilitj' of love. This order ahso degenerated as the days of the pure enthusiasm that established it were left more and more in the past. But it is a significant fact that the putting away of books in which science lay as petrified, and from which people took forms of opinion to be exactly reproduced, caused the Franciscans presently to become leaders of knowledge. They went among the poor, and sought to win from them goodwill and confidence. Tliey syini)athised with their troubles, sought to jjacify their quarrels, and heal their in- firmities of body or of mind. In seeking means to 54 CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [i.u. 12C4 heal till- liodily iutiniiitks the Franciscans were Ictl to observe nature, to draw knowledge from expe- rience ; and minds of active, intellectusil men thus trained in a forced contact with Nature alone as their cliief teacher, were soon on the way to many a truth that was not written in the books they might not read. After some years Franciscans were teacliing in the universities, and di-ew the largest audiences to their lecture-rooms. As the order lost its singleness of iiur])Ose, the positions fairly won were weakly held ; and Wiclif, in his earlier years at Oxford, earned much goodwill in the university by opposing what was then undue predominance of the Franciscans, and of the Dominicans who arrogated to themselves the teacliing of theology. In the eai-lier half of the thirteenth centuiy, not very long after the establishment of the Franciscan order, its first rector in Oxford was Robert Grosse- teste, who was appointed to that office in 1224, when he was about fifty years old. Grosseteste — only aboiit five years younger than Dominic, and .seven years older than Francis of Assisi — was a great scholar, born of poor parents in Suffolk. He studied at Paris and Oxford, gi-aduated in Divinity, was rector at one time of St. Margaret's, Leicester, became aftei-wards Archdeacon of Leicester, and had otlier preferment when tlie corruption of self-seeking among churchmen caused him to liegin his own efibrts towards reform by resigning all that he held himself except one office, a prebend at Lincoln. In 12.'?.5 he was made Bishop of Lincoln, but caused violent agitation among the monks and clergy of his diocese by liold punishment and re])ression of cor- ruption. A monk tried to jioisou him ; the canons preached against him in his own cathedra] ; the king's power was used to clieck the strictness with wiiich he enforced their duties on his clergy. He opi)Osed the l>estowal of English benefices, as mere pieces of income, ujion Italians nominated by the Pope ; and in the last year of his life boldly refused to induct a nephew of the Pope himself into a canonry at Lincoln. Grosseteste died in 12.53, leaving to the Fi-anciscans his library, and to his country a memory of which the good fame might rest u])ou his patriotic and religious zeal in the contest for Ghurch reform ; but he was also one of the j)rofoundest scholars and teachers of his age — Roger Bacon was among his jiupils — and he had a keen sense of the graces of life, a love of music and of old romance. Tliis caused him to put in the form of French romance a religious poem upon the Virgin. It was written in French and called the "Chiisteau d' Amour." There was more than one early version of it translated into English.' ' One early trauslation was eiUte'l very thoroughly with notes and glossary by Dr. E. V. Weymoutli, (or the Philolosfical Society, in 186-1. Another version had been piinted in 1849 by Mr. J. O. Halli- well-Philhpps for in-ivate circulation. This is the beginning :— " He that good thinketh, good may do, And God mil helpen him thereto ; For there was never good work wrought Without beginning of good thought, Nor ever was wrought evil thing But e\il thought was beginning." Grosseteste's pupil, the famous Franciscan, Roger Bacon, was bom in 1214, and died in 1292. In the year 12G7 he was pouring out his knowledge for the Pope in a spirit of philosophy, kindred in some respects to that of the Francis Bacon who was bom three centui-ies later. Roger Bacon dwelt upon the need of exact knowledge by Churchmen. He con- tlenined the ignorance that propagated false trans- lations for want of right training in language, and when he spoke emphatically of mathematics as a most essential study, he argued that it was essential to divines if they would read and explain the Bible with intelligence, and hel}) men rightly to admire the works of the Creator. Roger Bacon had spent a little fortiuie ujion study before he became a Franciscan at Oxford, denied the use of books, and of jiens, ink, and paper. The fame of his knowledge reached Pope Clement IV., who asked him to write tlown what he knew. The result was a sequence of writings, poured out with wonder- ful rapidity, in which he went the round of all the knowledge of his day, with additions of liis own, and ]>hilosoj)hial suggestions of the highest interest. Even the fotu- " Idols " condemned by Francis Bacon were almost anticijiated in the assertion of Roger Bacon that there are four grounds of human ignorance- trust in inadequate authority, the force of custom, the opinion of the inex])erienced crowd, and the hiding of one's own ignorance wth the jiarading of a superficial wisdom. When in passing through the sciences he comes to music, we have these notes from Roger Bacon on Then follows prayer that God will grant us to think and work as we should, before statement of the subject of the ])oem, which is first the happiness of Adam in Paradise till uU was lost ; and then how all was redeemed by the High King's Son. The High King had four daughters— Mercy, Ti-uth, Right, and Peace. He had also a thrall, who having done amiss was set in prison and deUvered to his foes. Mercy pleaded for him, but Right had called for his punishment, and this Trath urged. Right then judged in accordance with the words of Tnith. Then Peace— who was banished by the execution of the Righteous dooms— joined in the plea of Mercy. The King's Son, when he had heard the pleading, offered in wear the clothing of the thrall, and sutler for him all that Truth and Right required, so that Peace might come back into the land, and Righteousness and Peace might kiss each other. The panible is then applied to the sacred story, and through praise of the love of God the poem panse^ to the birth of Chi-ist. When God came to bless us he chose to alight •' In a castel wel comeliche Muche and feir and loveliche : That is the castel of alle flour. Of solas and of socour." Then follows a description of the castls wherein God "chose his inn" — " This is the castel of love and lisse, Of solace, of socour, of joye, and blisse, Of hope, of hele, of sikernesse, And fid of allt^ sweteuesse ; This is the Mayden bodi so freo Thei never nas non but heo. That with so fele thewes iwarned wes, So that swete Mayden Marie wes." Every detail of an elaborate description of the castle is thei t^ exiJ.ained into alleirory, with praise of the Vij-gin. The coming of Christ to earth, his birth, his resistance of temptation, his death and passion, and the paiji of Mary in the agony he suffered for the sins of man. his resui-rection, descent into hell. Godhead, power, are the nest themes ; then follows judgment, and a prayer for salvation. 10 A.D. 1267.J RELIGION. 5.") CHURCH MUSIC AND PREACHING.' [He had siid that there were thi'ee kinds of haiinony, diatonic, ehromatic, and enharmonic, the last-named adopted by the Church ; had dwelt on the importance of music, and complained that church singing in his time had lost gravity, and slipped into a voluptuous softness ; that the old manly tone was in some of om- greatest cathedrals spoilt by falsetto voices and the womanish singing of hoys. He then dwelt on music as an aid to devotion, as allayer of evil passions, and as healer of disease, and spoke of its power over irrational creatures. But, he went on, besides all this] The force of music is very agreeable and useful in the Church. It has been said that one kind of music is by metre, another by rhj-thm. But hymns, and histories, and prose narratives of thi' saints ought to be made according to the true art of metre and rhythm, as the s;iints made them from the beginning. Common metres are of hexameter and pentameter verses, which are alone now used by the com- munity of the Latins. But hymns and ihythmical prose- writings, and pieces of that kind, do not follow common laws of metre and rhythm, but have special methods ; as, when it is said : Ut queaut lasis J^t^sonare fibris Ifi'-m gestorum f ii-muli tuoram, Sol-ve pollutos Xa-bii reutus Sancte Johannes. =^ Here is a beautiful metre with distinct verses, but of fewer feet, five and si.x ; and so of the hjTnns, &c. And these metres are not only used with the tliree recognised feet, dactyl, spondee, and trochee, but \vith otliers which mount up to twenty-eight, of which Augustine teaches in his books of music, and other musical writers. When, therefore, hj-mns, &c., of this kind resound sweetly in the Chuixh of God, and excite the souls of the faithful to devotion, and this, chiefly, because of the charm of metre and rhythm, it is necessary that the Chm-ch should have knowledge of this metrical and rhjlbmical science for church use, that when saints ai"e canonised, or churches dedicated, or other solemnities appointed, which for special devotion require hymns and rhythms of their own in the divine offices, the devout handmaid of the church, called llusic, may be ready to do her aptest service. But if it may be said that these things can bo done, and are done, without the science of music ; that its grammar is sufficient. Clearly that is not so, for reasons already given, because it is the business of the musician to give cause and reason of these things that they may rightly produce rh\-thmic and metrical work ; but grammar is only mechanical in this respect, ignorant of these causes and reasons. And if it may be said that no great art is required for this, because men easily produce such things in the offices of the saints and others whenever they please, it is to be said of them that they do nothing rightly nor truly, but it is a mockery of divine service. For all that has been done during the last thirty years is false to art and truth, Ijccause composers of this kind know neither what feet they ought to use, nor how- many feet, nor what kind of metre, nor how they are to be put together according to the wavs of iirt; but after the ' Chapter Isxiv. and part of chapter Ixxv. of the " Opus Tcrliiim," first edited by Professor Brewer iu the importaut series of " Chronicles aud Memorials of Great Britain and Ireland during the Middle Aires," published under direction of the Master of the Rolls. Roger Bacon \Prote, of course, in Latin. ^ The verses are an appeal to St. John to loosen lips that they may sound his praise, so worded as to introduce the syllables of the scale — Ut, Ee, Mi, Fa, Sol, La. pattern of other hymns and such pieces so made, they count syllables at haphazard, and do not in anything observe metrical law. And, therefore, this is a mockery before God and the holy angels, and all who have any real knowledge of this art. For the saints who first composed in this way, as St. Ambrose, and Augustine, and Beda, and others, knew perfectly the laws and principles of metre and rhythm : and wrote accord- ing to the ways of art as having the power of science, and not working at haphazard as the modems do, who fashion as they please. The next thing in which the philosophy of JIusic caji powerfully serve the Chui-ch is in the office of preachiug, although at first sight that may seem absurd. But this office does not belong to study, because it consists in reading and disputation. But preaching is to the faithful and to the faithless, to laity and clergy. Now, some cannot preach unless they are sent by the authority of prelates. ^Vhence this is the office proper to prelates, and conceded by them to others, who exercise it in their place ; and, therefore, it does not pertain to study aliso- lutoly, but to the Church. But that philosophy wiU minister to a gi-eat power of persuasion is patent enough from what I have said when speaking of lloral Philosophy ; for there I have traced the roots of persuasion, according to the doctrines both of the saints and of the philosophers, aud because of the ignorance of these roots, the whole method of preaching to the people comes to nothing, and the art itself is unknown. And since the infidels have proper methods of persuasion in those things which concern them, therefore this manner of persuasion is philosophical, because it is common to Christian and Pagan. And, therefore, there descends from the spiings of philosophy one method special for this purpose, though also another method may be taken from the teaching of the saints. But the method of philosophy is first, and leads us towards the higher way, and is necessary to it as the servant to the master. Wherefore, if philosophy in other things is necessary to the Church, it is most so in this, seeing that the first intention of the Church and its last end is the work of preaching; that infidels may be converted to the faith, and that believers be maintained in faith and honesty of living. But because the crowd knows nothing of either way, it tui-ns all to supreme and unending curiousness, as by Porphyrian divisions, by foolish consonances of words and little clauses, and by vocal concords, in which is nothing but a wordy I'anity, wanting in every ornament of rhetoric and power of persuasion. .Some phantasm is displayed in puerile fashion, invented by boys void of all wisdom and power of elocjuence, as is plain to any one who looks at it ; such as I have set forth in my second work, and this my third, among the .sins of theology. Nevertheless, over all this there is the greatest consimiption of time. For on account of the superfluity of curiousness they labour ten times more over the construction of this sort of spider's web than over the thought of the sermon. Since the books of Aristotle's Logic on these matters, and the commentaries of Aricenna, are not to be had in Latin, and the few things that are translated arc not brought into use or read, it is not easy to express what ought to be done. But that Aristotle did write two books of Logic on this kind of persuasion, concerning sects and morals, I have shown in the third part of the "Opus JIajus," and in the seventh ; and there can be no doubt that they were excellent books, though the Latin writers are ignorant of them, as they were ignorant of the new logic when they only had the old. For in them would be taught how sublime discourses shoulil be made, as well in the utterance as in the thought, with all true ornaments of speech, in metre, rhythm, or prose ; that the soul may be hurried unexpectedly towards that for which the 56 CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. Ta.d. 1250 persuader puts forth all his power, and suddenly faU in love with good, and into hate of evil, as teaches Alpharabius in his book I)e ScUnUis. And these arguments of preaching do not consist only in the beauty of the speech, or greatness of the wisdom touching things divine ; but in the feelings, in the gesture and titly-proportioued movement of the body and the limbs, to which the instruction of the saints comes near when they teach the preacher to implore in his opening the grace of the Holy Spirit, and abundantly to shed tears of devotion while he is persuading. For thus Augustine teaches the way to preach the Gospel in his fourth book upon Christian Doctrine, and so he confesses that he preached himself. . . . . But some one may say, WTiat has all tliis to do with the properties of Music? Sui-ely much; indeed they have a chief relation to it : and this I will show, that we may see what is proper to one science, what to another. For I cannot deny that many sciences tiike this into account. The moral philosopher knows the use of pleasant speech and fit gestures suited to an agreeable utterance. So docs the logician and grammarian. But it is the part of none of those to assign the causes and reasons, for they are of another science. And this is JIusic. The man wlio.se scientific mind wa.s tlius applied to all sulijects of human study in his time is the same Friar Bacon whose learning won for him a place in mediieval fable. His teaclier, Robert Grosse- teste, Grosthead, or Greathead, called also Robert of fjincoln, w;is ranked with the conjurors, but Friar Bacon became especially a hero of legend. Samuel Butler, in his " Hudibras," paired " Old Hodge Bacon and Bob Grostead;" and we tiiul from the fourth book of the " Confessio A mantis" that Grosse- teste, as well as Bacon, was once associated with a story of a brazen head. " For of the great clerk Grosseteste I rede how busy that he was Upon the clergie, an head of bras To forge and make it for to telle Of suche thinges as befelle. And seven yeres besinesse He laide, but for the lachesse Of half a minute of an hom-c Fro tirste he began hiboflre He loste all that he haddc do." Let us next take, in brief, the substance of a ■Scsriarg which turned into religious allegory the su|)|)i)sed attributes of divers animals. It was deri\ed from the Latin verse of an Italian bishoj), Theoliald, whose book, called " Physiologus," was of a class so ancient tliat Ej)iphanius, an opponent of Origen, at the close of the fourth century, referred to the two natures of the serjient with the i)hrase, " as the Physiologues say." In this thirteenth-century version of the " Physiologus" of Theobald we read that When the Lion heai-s or scents from a hill the hunter approaching, he flies and wipes out his traces ^vitll his tail as he is running to his den. The hill is the kingilom of heaven, Christ the Lion, the Devil the cunning hunter, who never knew whence the Lord came or how he housed himself in INIary. The Lion's cub is not called to stir till the sun has shone three times upon it. This is an image of the resur- rection. The Lion sleeps with his eyes open. So watchful over us is Christ. When the Eaole is old be regains eyesight by hovering over a well in the light of the sun, drops then into the weU, and comes out renewed, except his beak, which he puts right by pecking at a stone. Man not yet Christian is old in sins. He goes to church and regains sight in the siuishine of God's love, he falls naked into the font and comes out renewed, save that his mouth has not yet uttered - creed or paternoster. But he may soon set his mouth right upon that rock which is Christ, and obtain bread for his soul in Christ, who is the bread of life. The old Serpent fasts for teu days, and when his skin is slack creeps through a stone with a hole in it, so scrapes it oS; then drinks at a spring, casts j out the venom bred in his breast since his birth, and drinks again from the pure stream until he is renewed. The Christian needs renewal when he has broken the laws to which he was pledged ; avoidance of pride is the fast, repentance the hole in the stone through which he must pass, iti the temple of God he wUl find the healing stream. The serjtent represents also the devil, in tlie fact that he will attack a clothed man, and flee from the naked. The devil attacks the man who is clothed in his sins, and Mies from him who has put them otf. The Ant lays up store for the winter; prefers wheat, and avoids barley ; bites each grain of corn in two to save it from perishing before it is used. Death is our winter-time, and if we have not made provision here, we shall sutler after that has come. Like the ant, let us avoid barley, the old law, and take to us wheat, the new. The divided grain .shows that the law is one, its ways are two, earthly and heavenly. It feeds the bodj' and the sold. The Hart draws the stone out of the seiijent, swallows it and burns with its poison, till he drinks greedily of water that makes it harmless. Then he sheds his horns and renews himself. We draw the poison from our forefathers, who have sinned through the serpent ; but in our rage let us run to the living waters, and drink of the teaching of the Lord that quenches sin. Let us cast off pride as the hart casts his horns, and be renewed imto salvation. Harts keep together. If they cross a river, each lays his shin-bone on another's loin-bone ; if the foremost become tired, the others helj) him. So Christians shoidd draw together, and lighten one another's burdens. The Fox seizes poultry, and entraps birds by lying in a hole as dead, till they alight on him fearlessly and peck at him as carrion food, then with his sharp teeth he tears them. The devU looks as if he would not harm us, and tempts us to do our carnal will. Whoso indulges in sin pecks at the fox's skin, and has his reward. So also, he who hides evil under a fair show is a fox and a fiend. The Spider who spreads his web, is the man who deceives another and brings him to ruin. The Whale looks like an island when afloat. When he is hungry he ojiens his wide jaws, ami . sweet scent comes from them which draws to him the fishes. Only the little fish ;u'e swallowed; ho TO A.D. lax).] EELIGION. 57 cannot seize the great ones. 80 the devil tempts man In' pleasures that lead to iiiin, but he beguiles only the weak in faith. In fair weather he is at the bottom of the sea, in storm he comes to the siu'face. Sailore, ^nistaking him for an island, anchor upon him, and light a tire on him to warm themselves. Feeling the heat, he dives and drowns them all. So is it with all who trust in the fiend for shelter and couifoit. !Many men are like the Siren when they speak fail- words and do evil, destioving another in his goods and in his soul by treachery. The Elei'Haxt is carefid not to fall, because he can with difficulty raise himself. He rests by lean- ing against a tree. The hunter, marking his haiuit, saws the tree, then when he leans he falls, and sets up a loud cry for help. Many of the herd labour in vain to raise him, tjien they all set up a loud cry, till a youngling comes who helps him up with his trunk, and so he is saved. Adam, through that hunter the devil, so fell by a tree. Moses and the prophets sought in vain to restore man. A gi'eat cry went up to heaven, and Christ came, who went, as it were, by death, under Adam, and so lifted him out of hell. The Christian should be true to Christ as the Turtle, who will ne\er leave her luate or take a second love. The Panther is beautiful. When he has eaten he sleeps in his cave for tliree days, then rises, cries aloud, anil out of his mouth comes a smell sweeter than balsam. This draws to him many animals, but not the dragon, who lies trembling in his den. Christ is the fair panther, who, when he had lain thi-ee days, rose and ascended to heaven. The sweet smell is his holy teaching to which men are drawn, but the de\il hides and trembles when he hears the word of God. Seven good qualities of the Dove are to be imitated b_v the Christian. She luis no gall. She does not live by plunder. She picks up seed only, and avoids worms ; ho let lis feed only on Clii-ist's teaching. She is as a mother to the young of other bii'ds ; let us help one another. Her song is a plaint ; let us bewail our sins. In water she sees when the hawk comes ; in the Word of God we leani to shun the devil. She makes her nest in a hole of the rock ; our best shelter is in that rock which is the mercy of our Lord. That is the whole substance of the Bestiary, versi- fied in the thirteenth century from Bishop Theobald.' In the oiiiiiion of Dr. Eichanl Morris, who has edited them both, an English religious poem of the thii-teentli century, which tells the story of Genesis and Exodus in free octosyllabic rhymes, is by the author of the rhymed vei-sion of this Bestiary; ^ It will be found, as well as the Latin original, in one of the publica- tions of the Early English Text Society, "An Old Enslish Miscellany, eontainiui; a Bestiary, Kentish Sermons, Proverbs of Alfred, Keli^oiis Poems of the Thirteenth Century, from Manuscripts in the British Mnsenm, Bodleian Library. Jesus College Library*, &c. Edited, with introduction and ludex of Words, by tlie Rev. Richard Mon-is, LL.D." Tile Bestiarj' has also been printed by Mr. Thomas Wright in the " Relifiuiie Antiiiute." because there are in the MSS. of them not only similar verbal and grammatical forms, but similar peculiarities of spelling. The manner of this poem may be illustrated by the part of it which ends the story of Genesis. THE DEATH OF JOSEPH. Hise brethere cornea him thanne xo Sis brethren then came to him And gunnen him bistken alle so ; And began all to beseech him thus : " Vre fader," he seiden, " or he was dead, " Oar father," they said, " before he was dead, Vs he this bodeward seigen bead, Se bade us say this message, Hure sinne thee him forgiue Tliat thou for him ottr sin forgive With-thanne-that we vnder the Uvea." So that tee under thee may live." Alio he fellen him thor to fot All they fell there at his feet To beden mede and beddcn oth, To beg mercy and offer oath, And he it forgaf hem mildelike And he forgave it them mildly And luvede hem alle kinde-like. And loved them all according to nature. 10 Osej) an hunched ger was hold Joseph was a hundred years old And his kin wexen manige fold ; And his kindred increased manifold ; He bad sibbe cumeu liim biforen He bade relations come before him Or he was ut of werlde boren Ere he was borne out of the world : " It sal," quath he, " ben soth, biforen " It shall," quoth he, " be true, before That god hath ure eldere sworen That God hath suorn to our elders. Ho sal gu leden in his bond Ife shall lead you in his hand Hethen to that hotcne lond JFrom hence to the promised land ; For godes luue get bid io gu For God's lore yet pray I you Lesteth- it thanne, hoteth it nu. Perform it then, promise it now. 20 That mine bene ne be forloren. That my prayers may not be lost. With gu ben mine bones boren." Let my bones be carried with you." He it him gatten and wurth he dead, They granted it him and he died {became dead), God do the soulo sell red! God cause to the soul a happy gain .' His liche was spice-like maked His body was embalmed And longe cgipte-like waked. And long watched after the manner of Egypt, And tho birind hem biforen And then buried before them And sithen late of londe boren. And some time afterwards borne out of the land. 2 Lestethisnot listen, from "hlystan;" but observe, execute, per. form, from " laa'stan," 72 68 CASSELL'S J.IBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [4.D. 1300 30 40 His othro brothurc on aud on Hie ol/ur bnthren one by one Woron ybiried at ebron, Were biti'ud at Hebron, And here onduJi; to ful in wis And lure fully ended in nooth The boc the is hoten Genesis The book that ix ealted Genesis, The moyscs, thurg godes red, That .Uosea, by the counsel of God, AVrot for lofful soules ned m-oaijhtfor the need of faithful souls. God sihiido his soule fi-o helle bale God shield his soul from hale of hell The mad it thus on en^i'l tale, Who made it thus in English speech. And he that thise h^ttres wrot And he that icrotc these letters God him helpe weli mot May God effeetnally help him, And berge is soule fro sorge and grot And protect his soul from sorrow and weeping Of helle pine, eold and liot I Of hell pains, cold and hot ! And alle men the it heren wilcss And all men that will to hear it God I('ve hem in his blisse spilen God give them to have pleasure in His bliss Among cngelos and seli men Among angels and blessed men Withuten ende in reste ben ! To be in rest without end! And luue and pais us bitwen, And love and peace be us between, And ( iod so graunte. jVnien, amen ! We now pass out of the tliii-teentli century with only a reiniuder that in tlie year 130(J Dante w;is in mid-life — thu-ty-tive years old — and that it is the date of the action of liis " Divine Comedy." Petrarch was liom in 1304, and Boccaccio in 1313. Not many years later there were horn in England, Chaucer, Gower, Langland, and Wiclif. Robert JIannyng, who was born at Bourn, in Lincolnshire, and is also known, therefore, as Robert of Brunne, was a canon of the Gilbertine order, in which devout persons of both sexes lived togethei'. He turned into Englisli rhyme, for the instruction of the people, a Chronicle of England that had been written Ijy an Englishman, Peter Langtoft. It had licen written in French verse for the few; and Robert turned also into English verse a religious book written in French verse by another Englishman, William of Waddington (a Yorkshire town near Clitheroe), and called the " Manuel des Peclies." The original poem in French has been ascribed also to Grosseteste. Robert of Bninne called his trans- lation " The Handlynge Synne ;" for he said — " In Frenshe ther a clerk hyt sees He clcpyth it ' Manuel de Pecches.' ' Manuel ' ys Handlyng with honde ; Pecches ys synne, y undcrstonde : These twey wurdys that beyn atwynne, Do hem togedjT ys ' Handlyng Synne.' " He omitted from the original' what appeared to him to be uninterestijig, and increased the proportion of illustrative stories ; for he said — " For many ben of such manero That tales and rhymes will blithely hear. In games and feasts and at the ale, Love men to listen trotevale ; - That may fall oft to viUanie To deadly sin or other folic ; For such men have I made this rhyme. That they may well dispcnd their time." Accordingly the poem tirst illustrates with doc- trine and anecdote the Ten Commandments, and the sins against them ; then the Seven Deadly Sins — Pride, Anger, Envy, Sloth, Covetousness, Gluttony, and Lechery — witli stories about each ; then in like manner the sin of sacrilege. Then follow rhymes and stories on the Seven Sacraments — Baptism, Con- iirmation. Sacrament of the Altar, Penance, Holy Oulers, Marriage, Extreme Unction. Then come illustrations of the twelve requisites and the twelve graces of thrift. Among sins against the tirst Com- mandment, Robert of Bruime reckoned many of the suiierstitions of the people, which put suine kind of charm in the place of cpiiet trust in God. [If] any man gave thee m.eed For to raise the devil ^ indeed For to tell or for to wrey ■* Thinge that was done away ; If thou have do any of this Thou hast sinned and do amiss, And thou ai-t worthy to be slient » Through this each ^ commandement. If thou in sword or in basin Any child mad'st look therein, in Or in thumli, or in crystal, Witchecraft men clepen '' it all : Believe not in the jjie's chattering, It is no truth but false believing ; Many believcn in tlie pie When she ('ometh low or high Chattering, and hath no rest. Then, say they, we shall have gestc' ; " Many are trowen ' on their wiles And many times the pie them guiles. 20 Also is meeting in the moiTow '" When thou shalt go to buy or to borrow ; > The " Handlyng Syivne " and the " Manjie! des Prches." carefully edited by Frederick J. Furnivall, M.A., were tirst priuted iu a vohime published by the Roxbui'ghe Club in 1862. 2 Trolerale, a trifling thinff. 3 Dli-iI. Prouounced as one syllable, "de'il." So "over" is read " o'er." and " evil " has become " ill." * Wrcii aud trrtc, bewray, discover. Fii*st-En£rlish " wrdffau." ^ Sheuf, blamed, shamed. First-English " scsendau," to shame. ^ Tliis each (" ielc "), this same. " C/ci)cii, call. First-English " clypian. " ^ Have gente, hear news. The French original is — " Si il oieut la pie iangler Qnideut sanz dute noneles uuer." Tlie English saying is, " When the pie chatters we shall iiave strangers." ^ TronTH, to trust, believe. Fii-st-English "treowiajl." I'J Morrow ("morwe "1, morning. TO A.D. 1307.] RELIGION. 59 If then thy eri'and speed no sot Then wilt thou curse him thcit thou met. It is the ticemeut of the de\-il To curse them that thought thee no evil. Of hansel I can no skill ' also It is nought to believe thereto, Methiuketh it is false every dele," I believe it not, ne ne'er shall wele. 30 For many have glad hansel at the morrow And to them ere even com'th mochel sorrow. And many one have in the day great noy ■■ And yet ere even com'th to them mochel joy. So may'st thou wit, if thou good can, That hansel is no belief to man. Believe not much in no dreams, For many be naught but glittering gleams. These clerks say that is vanity. Such sensible counsel as this comes under the heail of turning aside from God by making to oneself idols of the imagination, and putting trust in them. I add two of Robert of Brunne's illustrative tales. This is in illustration of the fourth Commandment : THE FOND FATHER. Of a man that some time was I shall you tell a little pas.^ Of his son he was jealous^ And gave him all his Lmd and house, And all his catel ' in town and tield That he should keep him well in his eld. This young man wax fast and was jolife, His counsel was to take a wife ; He wedded one and brought her home 'V\^th all the mirth that thereto come : 10 He badde her first loud and still To serve his father well at 'nis ' will. Soon afterward, this yonge man His heart, his thoughte, change began ; Tendrer he was of wife and child Than to his father meek or mild. Of one day he thoughte five. Long him thought his father alive ; And everj- day, both the tone and the tother, Sened him well worse than other. 20 I trow this man, when he gan moan For thought that he gave so much his sone, This olde man, was brought so low That he lav full cold beside a wow.'' ' I can no skill, I know no reason ; for the belief in lucfe that comes with the first coin taken as hansel. A liajisel is that which is ^ven into the hand, from " hand " and First-Enf?lish " syUan," to ^ve. Mr. Hensleigh Wedgwood says it does not mean the coin given, but the hand itself inveii in striking a bargain. This is the root of the name of the Hanse Towns, a confederation bound by agreement for common security of trade. ^ Dele, part ; from ** dae'lan," to divide, deal out. * JToy, hurt. French " nuire," Latin " nocere." * Pas, a setting forth ; from " pandere," to spread out, as when .^hieas "ordine singula pandit." Each division of a long poem, as a spreading forth of a distinct section, was sometimes called a "Passus." * Jealous. The French text has "geluz." The word is of the root of " zeal," and used here in the same sense as in the phrase " jaloux de lui plaire," anxious to please him. ' Catel, possessions, chattels. ' At his, pronounced " at's." So line 6. in hi.<, " in's." ^ H ow, wall. The spelling in the original is " loghe " and '* woghe." This olde man ufjon a day Plained him that he colde lay : — "Son," he said, "for Goddes love "Wrie' me with some clothe above." The son that was the husband To whom was given all the land, 30 Cleped his son, and bade him take A sack, of those that he did make, And bade him turn it twej'fold And lay it on his father '" for cold. The child, as he bade him do. Took a sack and carve 't in two. His father spake to him yom," " See ! \\Tiy hast thou the sack shorn :-" The child answered him in haste, — It was through the Holy Ghast,'- — • 40 " This deed have I done for thee. Good example giv'st thou me How I shall serve thee in thy eld, AVTien thou, thyself, may'st not weld.'* This half sack '■* shiill lie thy father above : And keep the tother part to thy behove. Unkindly thou teachest me the goo J : Of unkind cometh unkind blood." This example were good to con, Both to the father and eke to the son. 50 God is not payed, '^ here we find That the son to the father is not kind. Among warnings against the seven sins, tinder the head of Covetousuess comes, in Robert of Brunne's " Handlyng Synne " — THE TALE OF PIERS THE USURER. Saint John the Almoner '* Saith Piers was an okerer,'" First-English *' wah." In Piers Plowman, 2£ede promises that she shaU " Towre cloystre do maken, Wowes do whiten, and windowes glaaen." ' Wrie, cover, clothe. First-English " wrigan," to cover or clotne. "Whence the phrase " to rig out." 1" Father used to be pronoimced rapidly, /a'r; so also "other," o";-, whence " or." " Torn, eagerly, anxionsly. First-English " geom," desirous, eager, anxious. 12 Ghast (First-English " gist "), spirit. IS Weld, have power, rule. First-English " wealdan." I* The verse often seems irregular where it is not so. We have to remember the old ways of contraction and running together of iden- tical letters, as here : — " This half sack sh'IUie thy fa'r above : And keep the to'r part-t-thy behove." 1= Payed, "pacatus," pleased. >5 St. John the Almoner, to whom this story is ascribed, was a famous Patriarch of Alexandria. He was bom at Amathonte in the island of Cyprus, and was made Patriarch A.D. 610 against his will, after the death of his wife and children. The zeal of his charity and love for the poor obtained for him the title of "The Almouer." Though his revenues were very great he lived poorly, and slept on a small pallet under a wretched blanket. A rich Alexandrian presented him "ith a good one. The saint slept under it one night, reproached himself for luxury, and sold it the next day. Tlie rich man bought it. and presented it again : the saint sold it again. It was bought and given again, and sold asain ; the saint saying good-humouredly to his friend, "We shaU see which of us first tires." His exertions for the p-.or during the famine of A.D. 615 and the plague that foUowed were "1 f last famous incidents of the Almoner's life. He died at his birth- place in the year 616. 1" Okerer, usurer ; from First-English " eacan," to eka or increase. GO CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [a.d. 130O 10 20 30 Ajui was swithe ' covetous And a nigan- and avarous, And jiathci-cd pciico unto store As okcrers doen aywlioi'c' Befi'l it SI iijion a day That poore men sat in the way And sjiread tlu-ir liatrcn^ on their barm* Against the sunnc that was warai, And reckoni'd the eustoni-house caeh one At which they had good, and at which none ; MHiere they had good they praised well, And where they had nought never a dele.'^ As they spake of many wliat Come Piers forth in that i;atJ Then said each one that sat and stood, " Here com'th Piers, that ne'er did good;" Each one said other janglimd* They took ne'er good at Piers' hand; Ne none poor man ne'er shall have, Coud he never so well crave. One of them began to say, " A wager dare I with you lay That I shall have some good of him. Be he ne'er so grylP ne grim." To that wager they granted all, To give him a gift if so might befal. This man up stert and took the gate Till he came to Piers' gate. As he stood still and bode the qued '" One come with an ass charged with bread : That cache breadc Piers had bought, And to his house should it be brought. This saw Piers come therewithal. The poore thought, " Now ask I shall:" — " I ask thee some gooil, for charity. Piers, if thy wille be ! " Piers stood and looked on him, Felounly, with eyes grim. He stooped down to seek a stone But, as hap was, then found he none. For the stone he took a loaf And at the poore man it drove. The poor man hent it up belive" And was thereof full f erly ''^ blithe. To his fellows fast he ran With the loaf, this poore man, " Lo," ho saide, " what I have ! Of Piers' gift, so God me save ! " — Nay, they swore by their thrift. Piers gave never such a gift. He said, " Ye shall well understand That I it had at Piers' hand ; That dare I swear on the halidom. Here before vou each one." ' StcitM, greatly. First-Euglish " swith," strong, great. * Nigtin, niggard. ' Aywhorc, everywhere. First-English "cegbwar." * Hatrcn, clothes. First-Eughsh " haeter," clothing. * Barm (First-English " heami "), lap. 8 Never a dele, never a bit. ' Gat, road, Icelandic " gata." ^ Jangland, prating, chattering. * GrylU stem, cruel, hideous, causing fear. '» Bode the ijiica, waited for the sbvewish or ill-disposed person. There was First-English "cwead," filth, " Hcnt it up bclire, snatched it up quickly. First-English " hentan," to pursue, seize. " Fmly, wonderfully. 40 50 60 70 80 Grcatc marvel had they all That such a chance might him befal. The thirdc day, thus writ it is, Piers fell in a great sickness ; And as he lay in his bed Him thoughte well tliat he was led With one that after him was sent To come unto his Judgement. Before the Judge was he brought. To yield account how he had wrought. Piers stood full sore adrade And was abashed as maid : He saw a fiend on the to party '^ Bewraying " him full felonly ; All it was shewed him before How lie had Uved since he was bore ; And namely '* every wicked deed Sin first he coude himself lead. Why he them did and for what chesun,"' Of all behovcth him yield a reason. On the tother party stood men full bright That would have saved him at their might, But they mighte no good find That might him save or unbind. The fair men said, " What is to rede,'? Of him find we no good deed That God is payed of— but of a loaf The which Piers at the poor man drove. Yet gave he it with no good will But east it after him with ill ; For Goddes love he gave it not Ne for almsdecd he it had thought : Natheless the poore man Had thportumty. ' Rede, advise. ® Ware, lay out in bargaining. From First-English •' webt," a cau- tion, agreement, warranty. ' To jiiiii, to your satisfaction. — Debonere (French " debonnaire "), of good manners, easy, kind. *■* Feynibie (French "peuible"), taking pains. Piers shalt thou call his name. For him shalt thou have much frame ; " 230 He is a man fuU gracious Good to win unto thine house, And God shall give thee his blessing And foison'- hi alle thing." The clerk gave all his ransoun To the poor men of the town, Plenerly " all that he took, Withheld he not a farthing nook. The Emperor sent his messengers All about for to seek Piers, 240 But they ne mighte never hear Of rich Piers the toUere," In what steade he was nome '* Nor whitherward he was become ; Nor the clerk woidd tell to none WTiitherward that Piers was gone. Now is Piers become bryche "> That ere was both stout and rich. All that ever any man him do bade Piers did it with hearte glad, 250 He wex " so mild and so meek A milder man thurt " no man seek, For he meeked himself o'er skill '" Pots and dishes for to swill ; To great penance he gan him take. And muche for to fast and wake ; And much he loved tholniodness'^" To rich, to poor, to more, to less. Of aUe men he would have dout,'-' And to their bidding meekly lout ;-■' 260 Would they bid him sit or stand Ever he woulde be bowand. And, for he hare him so meek and soft, Shrewes misdid him-^ full oft And held him folted or wood,-* For he was so nuld of mood. And they that were his felaws Missaid him most in theire saws ; And all he suffered theu' upbraid And never naught against them s;iid. 270 Y'ole, his lord, well understood That all his grace and all his goou Came for the love of Piers That was so holy maneres. And when he wist of his oounty He called Piers in privity. " Piers," he said, " thou were worthy For to be worshipped more than I, For thou ail well with Jesu, He sheweth for thee great virtu, 280 1* Frame, profit, advantage. First-English ** freme," profit, gain. 12 Foison, abundance. '3 pienerbj, fully. 1* Tollere, farmer of public tolls The " publican " of the New Testament. '= To what place he had taken himself. *^ Bryche, a servant. First-English " biyce," useful, serviceable. 1' T^ei, ffrew. First-English " weasan. " 18 niurt. needed. First-Englisli " theartiau," to need. IS Skill, knowledge. ■•^ Tdoliiiodiicss, long-s«ifering. First-English " tholiaii." to endure; " mod," mood or temper. -i Dout, fear. French " douter." 22 Loot. bow. First-English "lilutau." 2* Misdid him, misbehaved to him. 2* Folted or wood, foolish or mau. TO A.r. 1350.] RELIGION. 63 Therefore I shall make thee free : I win that my fellow thou he." Thereto Piers granted not To he freeman as he hesought, He wolde he as he was ore, ' In that servage for evermore ; He thanked the lord mildely For his greate courtesy. Sithen Jesu, through his might, Shewed him to Piers sight, 290 For to be stalworth in his fonding - And to him to have longing : " Be not sorrowful to do penance, I am with thee in every chance ; Piers, I have mind of thee, — Lo here the kirtle that thou gave for me : Therefore grace 1 shall thee send. In all goodness well to end." Befel that serjeaunts and squiers That were wont to serve Piers 300 Went in pilgrimage, as in case,^ To that countiy where Piers was. Yole full fair gan them call And prayed them home to his hall ; Piers was there, that eachc sele,'' And, ever}' one, he knew them wele. All he served them as a knave, That was wont their service to have. But Piers not yet they knew. For penance changed was his hue. 310 Not forthe they beheld him fast" And often to him their eyes they cast, And saide, " He that standeth here Is like to Piers toUere." He hid his %nsage all that he might Out of knowledge of their sight ; Natheless they beheld him more And knew him well, all that were thore. And said, " YoIc, is yon thy page ■" A rich man is in thy servage ! 320 The Emperor, both far and near, Hath do him seek *■ that we find here." Piers listened and heard them speaking And that they had of him knowing ; And privily away he name ' Till he to the porter came. The porter had his speeche lore," And hearing also, since he was bore ; But through the crace of sweet Jesu Was shewed for Piers fair \Trtli. 330 Piers said, " Let me forth go ! " The porter spake, and saide, " Yo." ' He that was deaf and dvimb also Spake, when Piers spake him to. Piers out at the gate went And thither vede where Grod him .sent. * Ore, ere, before. ^ Fondimi, endeavour. From " fandian," to try to tind. 3 In case, by chance. * That each,' fde, jnst tit that time. (See line 207.) Nevertheless they looked fixedly at him. *"■ De him iu'ek. caused him to be souerht. " Nam*, took himself . First-English "niman," to take. (See line 243.) ' Lore, lost. 9 To, foa. First -English " irea." The porter yede up to the hall, And this merveil told them all, How the squier of the kitchen. Piers, that had woned'" here in. He asked leave, right now late,'' And went forth out at the gate. " I rede you all, give good tent '- Whitherward that Piers is went. With Jesu Chiist he is prive. And that is shewed well on me : For what time he to me spake Out of his mouth me thoughte break A flame of fire, bright and clear, The flame made me both speak and hear ; Speak and hear, now both I may. Blessed be God and Piers to-day." The lord and the guestes aU, One and other that were in hall. Had merveil that it was so. That he might such miracle do. Then as swithe Piers the}' sought. But all their seeking was for nought ; Never Piers they ne found Night nor day, in ne stound.'''' For he that took Enoch and Ely He took Piers, through his mercy. To rest withouten end to lede. For his meekness and his good deed. 340 3.50 360 Robei-t of Brunnne, in one part of hi.s poem, reproduced objections to the miracle play.s, excejrt when acted in church by the clergy at Easter and Christma.s. But the taste for them was spreading, and in the fourteenth century they attained to a development in tliis country, sti-ongly illustrative of the national desire to bring the Bible ^oiy and what were held to be the essentials of its teaching liome to all. We have seen the early form of such jilays in the "Raising of Lazarus." That was a single play, not one of a series, and was acted by the persons employed usually in the services of the Church. An early sequence of three plays from the Bible story, in a MS. of the twelfth century, was found in the Library of Tours. The first play set forth tlie Fall of Adam and Eve ; after which, said the stage directions, " devils shall take them, and put them into hell, and they shaU make a great smoke to rise in it, and cry aloud." The second play was of the death of Abel, after which, "devils coming, Cain is led to hell, being often struck, but they shall take Abel more mildly ; then the Prophets shaU be ready each in a convenient place of concealment." The tlm-d play consisted in theii- coming forward to prophesy of Christ, and when each had prophesied, devils took him also into hell. This sequence was evidently meant a,s a short stunmary from the Old Testament, showing man's need of Christ through the Fall, and the looking of the old world to his coming. The hell in such plays was always represented by the type of the whale's open jaws. A hell-mouth of painted '" Woned, dvrelt. First-English " wunian," to dwell, u Late, lately. '^ Tmt, heed. 1' Stound, space of time. First-English "stund; * Stnnde." .in hour. German 64 CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [a.d. 1328 puite-board, with a fire lighted behind the lower Jaw, so that it might seem to breathe fianie, was a common property of the niiraele play; and through this mouth tliose wlio played tlie devil's parts would, by passing behind it, have their apparent entrances and exits. Hell Moctb. From an old German Print copied m Thomas Sharp's ' the Coventry Mysteyies." Dissertation on The acting was at first within the church, in ser- vice time. The crowds attracted became greater than the church would hold. The acting was then specially arranged on a stage, built outside the church door, so that a large audience might be assembled in the sipiare in front. There were, for representation of the Fall, an u])per stage representing heaven, ap- proached by inhabitants of heaven from within the church ; below that a stage representing Pai'adise on earth ; anil below that an enclosed open space, within whicii there was clanking of chains, and a burning of wet straw to produce smoke. A door from this enabled demons to come out and, as they were in- structed to do, mix sometimes among the audience. This made them too familiar ; and they seem really to have sometimes degenerated in France into comic characters. In England there was usually but one stage, with hell-mouth in a corner of it, and demons only apjieared when they were to do demons' work. Very remarkable also was, in this country, the de- velopment of sequences of plays, and these were acted after the year 1328. or thereabout, in the language of the people. In 1264, Pope Urban IV. founded the feast of Corpus Christi, in honour of the conse- crated Host. The institution was confirmed hj Clement IV., in the year 1311. The grand proces- sion of this day was the only one of the year in wjiich laity and clergy marched together. The guilds were o>it, not only carrying pictures, liut walking in procession as living representatives of the saints and apostles. Then the guilds dined at their halls, and it has been suggested that the acting of Scrip- ture incidents before them by the characters they had exhibited may have led to what followed. This was the combination of guilds, re]5resenting the religious laity of England, to produce at the festival of Corpus Christi, or at Whitsuntide, or on other fit occasions, complete representations of the leading facts in Bible History from the Creation to the Day of Judgment. By dividing the several parts of the great history among themselves, and taking the requisite time — three or more successii'e days — they })roduced, in ftict, before the multitude a Living Biljle in the streets. A wide difliisiou of this very thorough use of the miracle play, by clergy and laity, as a me;uis of religious instruction, was characteristic of English religious feeling, a. good monk would write a sequence of two or three dozen plays, which might be acted by the guilds of any town in whicli they chose to combine for the purpose. Each guild would then take a play for its own, provide properties, train actors, and under- take to jiut out corporate strength for its etiicient annual j)erformance in the streets of the town. Corpus Christi day was the first Thursday after Trinity, and as Trinity Sunday is eight weeks after Easter, Cor])us Christi was, like Whitsuntide, a summer holiday time, convenient for out-of-door [lerformances. It is said that Randal Higgenet, or Ralph Higden, a monk of Chester Abbey, having obtained leave of the Pope to put Latin aside, and write these plays in English, the first English series — which was of twenty-four plays — was acted at Chester, in the year 1327 or 1328, the performance occupying tln-ee days. The Tanners first set forth the Fall of Lucifer ; then came the Drapers with the Creation and Fall and the Death of Abel ; then the Water-carriers and Drawers of Dee represented the pageant of Noah's Flood and the Ark. Then the histories of Lot and Abraham were played by the guilds of the Barbers and Waxchandlers. Such sequences of Scripture stories are known to have been acted at Chester, Coventry, Wakefield, York, Newcastle, Lancaster, Preston, Kendal, Wymond- ham, Dublin, and other places. Three whole sets have come down to us and form part of our literatvni ; — the Chester sei-ies of twenty-four plays ; a series ot forty-two said to have been acted at C'oventry (these add to the Scripture story legenilary incidents in the life of the Virgin); and the Wakefield Mysteries, a series of thirty-two, known also as the Towneley Mysteries, because the MS. containing them belonged to the Towneley family in Lancashire. The Wake- field series is much the best. The several plays are not plays in the sense in which we use the word in the modern drama, and though we ai'e often told that it did,' the modern drama most certainly did not arise ' This mistake is peculiar to English text-hooks, and to foreiir" writers wbose kuowleclge of our literature is chiefly ilerived from them. It originated in a tew lines of Warton's " History of English Poetry " which threw out the passin;? suggestion of a neat little theory ot the development of the Miracle Play into the Morality, and of the Morality into the true dr.ania. Mr. Collier, in his valuable "History of English Dramatic Poetry," developed Warton's specula- 'I TO A.D. liOJ/ EELIGION. 65 out of the miracle play. It arose iii the Universities ;iuil among men bred as scholars, who had long been ill the habit of acting plays of Seneca, Terence, or Plautus, or Latin plays of their own written upon the classical models. When it began to occur to them to -\\Tite such plays in English instead of Latin, the first English dramas were produced. The Italian drama began a little before the English in exactly the same way, and the mii-acle plays had nothing whatever to do ■s\-ith the matter in one comitry or another. Miracle plays went through no transition stages after the manner of the caterpillars till they were transformed to something altogether different. They survived unchanged long after they had passed their prime ; indeed, till the time of the youth of Shakespeare ; and they disappeared then altogether because the use for them had passed away. The Bible in their own tongue had been given to the people. Inasmuch as these sequences of incidents from Scripture, always chosen for their- bearing upon cardinal points of Christian faith, imposed a more continued strain on powers of serious attention than it would be possible to maintain, places of relaxation were provided by the interpolation of jest, and this was drawn always in England from incidents not in themselves Scriptural. Noah would be provided with an obstinate wife to provide comic business, and so forth. Between the Old Testament and New Testament series there was an Interlude, the Shep- herd's Play, that led up to the birth of Christ. The shepherds supposed to be keeping then- flocks at Bethlehem were presented as common shephei-ds talking, jesting, wrestling, one of them pla3dng especially the part of the country clown, till the song of the angels was heard. At first they mimicked it rudely, afterwards they became impressed, they were led to the infant Christ in the manger, knelt, offered their rustic gifts, and arose prophets. There is reason to believe that this Shepherd's Play had its independent origin in rustic sports outside a town, arranged by the clergy, who concealed a choir ari-ayed as angels to raise the Gloria in Excelds at the jjroper time, and then lead the rude actors and their audience into the lighted church. Here there had been set up a representation of the new-born Sa\-iour; and as the shepherds knelt by the manger the organ pealed, the Gloria resounded through the church, and the people, realising the occasion, had their hearts stin-ed with emotion. The Magi too, in Eastern robes, would ride into the town and bring their offerings. So also when Easter was at hand, persons in Oriental dress entered the market-place selling sjiices, spices to be bought for the anointment of the Lord. It happens that in the Wakefield series there are two Shepherd's Plays jiro- vided, either of which might be chosen by the guilds who acted the whole series. One of these furnishes the usual dialogue and sport, but the other happens to develope a short farcical stoiy which accidentally fulfils the requisite conditions, and so becomes our tion ; treating the fancy as a fact ; and English compilers, payin? ju5t respect to the authority of so good a student of dramatic literature. have followed one another in the steady reproduction of a very great miitalse. 73 eai-Uest known piece of acted drama. It is so by accident ; it was not imitated or developed, and has no relation to the origin of the true drama. Still, out of a form of literature that has many points in common with the drama, something which in a rude way fulfilled all its conditions waa by chance produced. It will be, therefore, the fir.st piece in the volume of this Library which has been planned to illustrate the coui-se of our English Dramatic Literature. At Coventiy there are .still preserved account- books of the guilds, which show in what way money was paid for the production of the miracle plays. The reheai-sals, the fees to actors, the provision or repaii- of stage appointments, are so recorded, that it is not difficult to construct from the entries a somewhat full detail of the method of procedm-e. This was done by Mr. Thomas Sharp when he pub- lished in 1825 by jirivate subscription his valuable " Dissertation on the Pageants or Dramatic Mysteries anciently performed at Coventry by the 'Trading Companies of that City ; chiefly with reference to the Vehicles, Characters, and Dresses of the Actors." The entries of expenses for the Drapers' Pageant of Doomsday, include, among machinery, hell-mouth and the keeping of the fire at it, " an earthquake " and '■ barrel for the same," " three worlds, painted," and " a link to set the world on fire." Among dresses are the black and white suits for souls lost and saved, " gold skins " for the angels, and three pounds of hah" for the demon's coat and hose ; also a " Hat for the Pharisee." Among payments to actors are sixteenpence to " Worms of Conscience," three shillings to two demons, and only two shillings to four angels ; the demons being better paid, because they had more stage business to go through efliciently. One entry is of a payment of two shillings for a demon's face, and another of ten shillings " for making the ij devells facys." There are frequent entries for souls' coats. One entry is " payd to Crowe for makyng of iij worldys, ij*"," and another is of fivepence " for settyng tlie world of fyer." These are enti'ies of the sixteenth century, into which the practice of acting these plays at Coventry was con- tinued. They were acted at Chester as late as 1577, and at Coventry as late as 1580. Let us take from the Wakefield series the Mystery Play of ABRAHAM. Abraham. Adonay,' thou God veray,^ Thou hear us when we to thee call ! As thou art he that host may. Thou art most succour and help of all ! Mightful Lord ! to thee I pray. Let once the oil of mercy fall ! Shall I ne'er' ahide that day P Truly yet I hope I shall. Mercy, Lord omnipotent ! Long since He this world has wrought : Whither are all our elders went ? ' Adonay. The Hebrew AAoi\ai, for Lord, was used to avoid repetition of the sacred name, Jehovah. 2 Vcray (French " vrai "), true : so '* very God of very God." 66 CASSELL'S LIBEARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [a.d. 1328 This muses inickle in my thought. From Adam unto Eve assent,' Eat of that apple spared he nought, For all the wisdom that he ment- FuU dear that bargain has he bought From paradise that bade him gang; He went mourning with simple cheer, And after lived he here full lang, Jlore than three hundred year, In sorrow and in travail Strang ; And every day he was in were,^ His children angered him among. Cain slew Abel was him full dear. Sithen Noe, that was true and good, He and his ehildien three. Was saved when all was flood ; That was a wonder thing to see. And Lot from Sodom when he yede. Three cities brent yet escaped he. Thus, for they menged my Lord's mede, He vengcd sin through his pauste.* When I think of our elders all, And of the marvels that has been, No gladness in my heart may fall, Jly comfort goes away full clean. Lord, when shall dede * make me his thrall ? An hundred years, certcs,*" have I seen : JIa fay ! soon — I hope he shall. For it weri! right high time, I ween. Yet Adam is to helle gone. And there has ligcn many a day ; And all our elders everyehon. They are gone the same way ; Unto ' God will hear their moan. Now help. Lord, Adonay ! For, certes, I can no better wone,^ And there is none that better may. Dots. I will help Adam and his kind, flight I love and hiwtc ' find ; Would they to me be true, and bUn '" Of their pride and of theu' sin : ily servant I will found and frast," Abraham, if he be trast.'- On certain wise I will him prove \i he to me be true of love. Abraham ! Abraham I Abraham. AVho is that ? ware, let me see, I heard one neven '-^ my name. Dens. It is I, take tent '■* to me That foi-med thy father Adam, And everything in it '^ degree. ' From the time when Adam assented to Eve. 2 Mcnt, Lad iu mind. s 111 m'.i, iu strife and confusion. See line 104 of " Piers the Usurer," page 60, Note 22. « Pamti, power (" potestas"). ^ Dedc, death. « Certes, surely ; pronounced as one syllable. ~ Vnlo, until. « I can »io better u-oiic, I know no better stay. ' tciriJ. loyalty. lo Bliii, cease. n found and frast, prove and ti-y. Found (First-English " fandian "), to ti-y, tempt, prove. Frast (Icehindic " freista"), to tempt, make trial of. 12 Trast, trasty. » J^eoeii, name. First-English " nemnan ; " Icelandic " nefna" and "nemna." '* Take tent, take heed. « II for its, which was not used till the time of Elizabeth. Alirahaiii. To hear thy will ready 1 am, And to fulfil whate'er it be. Beus. Of mercy have I heard thy cry, Thy devout prayers have me bun." If thou me love, look that thou hie Unto the land of Vision ; And the third day be there bid I And take with thee Isaac, thy son, As a beast to sacrify : To slay him look thou not shun, And bren '? him there to thine offerand. Abrahaiit. Ah, loved be thou. Lord in thi'one ! Hold o'er me, Lord, thy holy hand ; For certes thy bidding shall be done. Blessed be that Lord in every land Would visit his servant thus so soyn.'* Fain would I this thing ordand. For it perfects nought to hoyne " ; This commandment -" must I needs fulfil If that my heart wax heavy as lead. Should I offend my Lordcs will 'i Nay, yet were I liever my child were dead ! Whatso he bids me, good or ill, That shall be done in every stede ; Both wife and child, if ho bid spill,^' I will not do against his rede. Wist Isaac," whereso he were, He would be abashed now. How that he is in dangere. Isaac, son, where art thou ? Isaac. All ready, father ; lo me here ; Now was I coming unto you. I love you mickle, father dear. Abraham. And docs thou so ? I would wit how Loves thou me, son, as thou has said. Isaac. Yea, father, with aU mine heart ; Jlore than all that ever was made. God hold me long your life in quart I -■' Abraham. Now, who would not be glad that had A child so loving as thou art ? Thy lovely cheer makes my heart glad, And many a time so has it gart."^ Go home, son, come soon again. And tell thy mother I come full fast ; \_Hic trnnsiet Isaac a patre,^ So now, God thee save and sajTie ! ^^ Now well is me that he is past. Alone, right here in this plain. Might I speak to mine heart brast.=? I would that all were well, full fain, But it must needs be done at last. 's Bun, made ready. 17 Bren. bum. is Soijii, soon. \ " Hoi,ne, think ansiously, lament. First-English " hogian." '"> Comnmnduitnt. pronounced " c'mmandmeut," in two syllables. The B in " heavy " unites, in the next line, with the a of " as." »J Sj.ai, destroy. First-English " spilian," to spoil, destroy, kill. " Wist Isaac, if Isaac knew. =3 In ,iwrt, in safe keeping. First-English " cweart-era," a place for safe keeping, guai-d-house, prison. 2* Gart, made. ^'' Here Isaac shall pass away from his father. =« Sa«iie, bless. First-English " segnian " and " seniau," to bless. '• Till my heart broke. TO A.D. 140 J. J RELIGION. 67 And it is good that I be ware ; To be avised full good it were. The land of Vision is full far, The third day end must I be there. Mine ass shall with us, if it thar,' To bear our harness less and more, For my son may be slain no nar,^ A sword must with us yet therefore. And I shall found - to make me j-are.* This night will I begin my way. Though Isaac be ne'er so fair, And mine own son, the sooth to say, And though he be mine righte heir. And aU should wield after my day, Goddes bidding shall I not spare : Should I that gainstand I-" We ! ■'' nay , my fay ! Isaac! Isaac. Sir ! Abraham. Look thou be boun ; ^ For certain, son, thyself and I, We two must now wend forth of town, In far country to sacrify. For certain skillis'^ and encheson;' Take wood and fire with thee, in hy,' By hills and dales, both up and down, Son, thou shall ride and I will go by. Look thou miss nought that thou should need, Do make thee ready, my darling ! Isaac. I am ready to do this deed. And ever to fulfil your bidding. Abraham. My dear son, look thou have no drede, We shall come home with great lo\'ing ; Both to and fro I shall us lead, Come now, son, in my blessing. Ye two here with this ass abide. For Isaac and I will to yond hill. It is so high we may not ride. Therefore ye two shall abide here stiU. Primus Piier.^" Sir, ye owe not to be denied ; We are ready your bidding to fulfil. Secundus Puer. ^\^latsoever to us betide To do your bidding ay we will. Abraham. God's blessing have you both in fere ; " I shall not tarrj- long you fro.'- PrimusPuer. Sir, we shall abide you here. Out of this stede '^ shall we not go. Abraham. Childre, ye are ay to me full dear, I pray God keep ever fro woe. Secundus Puer. We will do, sir, as ye us lere.'* ^ If it fhar, if need is. First-English " thearfian," Icelandic "tharfa," to need. * No nar, no nearer than the place wliich is a three days' journey distant. 5 Found, try. ♦ Tare, ready. ^ ^^f an exclamation. * BoMn, ready. Icelandic "biia," to make ready. ' SkilXis, reasons. * flncheson, occasion or cause. Norman-French " chaison." ^ In hy, in haste. First-Enfi:lisli " hi^n." to hie or make haste. '° The journey just proposed is supposed to have been taken when Abraham and Isaac leave with their attendants the " First Boy " and " Second Boy," the ass upon which Isaac rode, while Abraham walked beside his darling. " 7n /ere, together. '^ Fro, from. '^ Stede, place. '* Lere, teach. There is a touch of pathos here, drawn not only from the love of Abraham towards the son whom his faith causes bim to sacriiice, but from his tenderness towards the boys not his whom he prays that God may ever keep from woe. When Shakespeare's Bmtus, with his soul wrong by the death of Portia and a great duty before him, is made grand throughout the latter part of the play of "Julius Cfiesar," with indication of suppressed emotion, one of its Abraham. Isaac, now are we but we two, We must go a full good pace. For it is farther than I wend ; '^ We shall make mirth and great solace. By this thing be brought to end. Lo, my son, here is the place. Isaac. Wood and fire are in my hend ; Tell me now, if ye have space. Where is the beast that should be breud r Abraham. Now, son, I may no longer layn,'^ Such will is into mine heart went ; Thou was ever tome full baj-n '" Ever to fuliU mine intent. But certainly thou must be slain, And it may be as I have ment. Isaac. I am heavy and nothing fain, Thus hastily that shall be shent. Abraham. Isaac ! Isaac. Sir ? Abraham. Come hither bid I ; Thou shall be dead whatsoever betide. Isaac. Ah, father, mercy 1 mercy I Abraham. That I say, may not be denied ; Take thy dede " therefore meekly. Isaac. Ah, good sir, abide ; Father ! Abraham. '\Miat, son ': Isaac. To do your will I am ready. Wheresoever ye go or ride. If I may ought overtake your will, Syn I have trespas.sed I would be bet." Abraham. Isaac I Isaac. What, sir 'r Abraham. Good son, be still. Isaac. Father ! Abraham. ^\Tiat, son ? Isaac. Think on thy get ;™ Wbat have I done ? Abraham. Truly, none ill. Isaac. And shall be slain ? Abraham. So have I bet.-' Isaac. Sir, what may help ? Abraham. Certes, no skill. Isaac. I ask mercy. Abraham. That may not let. Isaac. When I am dead, and closed in clay. Who shall then be your son ? Abraham. Ah, Lord, that I should abide this day! Isaac. Sir, who shall do that I was won !--- Abraham. Speak no such words, son, I thee pray. signs is his womanly tenderness towards the boy who waits upon him in his tent. Abraham's tender words to the two lads whom he leaves with the ass while, with heroic faith in the word of God, however hard it may be to him, he is prepared to offer his beloved son as sacrifice, have a touch in them of the finest human truth. '5 Wend, thought, weened. First-English " wffi'nan," to suppose. ifi Layn, deceive. First-English "leogan." Icelandic " beini," help. Compare Dunbar's *' Lament for the Makars," ' Shorter Poems :" — Good Master "Walter Kennedy In point of deid lies verily." Bay», helpfuL 18 Dede, death, line 89, page 112 of ' " Bef, beaten. ^ Thy get, thy child, thy begotten. 21 Hef, promised. First-English " hatan," to command, ordain, promise. ^ Won, wont. First-English " wuua," a custom; " wuniau," to dwell, to be accustomed. 68 CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [a.d. 1328 Isaac. Shall yo me slo ? ' Abraham. I trow I mou : — Lie still, I smite. Isaac. Sir, let me say. Abraham. Now, my dear child, thou may not shon. Isaac. The shining of your bright hlade It gars me quake for ford to dcc.- Abraham. Therefore gi-oflynges* thou shall be laid, Then when I strike thou shall not see. Isaac. Wliat have I done, father 'i wliat have I said ? Abraham. Truly, nokyns'' ill to mo. Isaac. Ard thus guiltle.ss shall be arayde. Abraham. Now, good son, let such words be. Isaac. I love you ay. Abraham. So do I thee. Isaac. Father ! Abraham. Wliat, son ? Isaac. Let now be seyn ' For my mother love. Abraham. Let be, let be ! It will not help that thou would meyn ;" But lie still till I come to thee, I miss a little thing I ween. lie speaks so ruefully to me That water shoots in both mine een, I were lievcr than all worldly win, That I had fou him once unkind, But no default I found him in ; I would be dead for him or pined,' To slo him thus I think great sin, So rueful words I with him iind ; I am full wo that we should twyn,' For lie will never out of my mind. Wliat shall F to his mother say ? For where he is, ty to will she spyr ; ' If I tell her, " Run away," Her answer is belifo '" — " Nay, sir ! " And I am feared her for to flay," I no wot what I shall say till her.'- He hes full still there as he lay. For to I come " dare he not stir. Dciis. Angel hie with all thy main. To Abraham thou shall bo sent : Say, Isaac shall not be slain, lie shall live and not be brent. My bidding stands he not again, Go, put him out of his intent : Bid him go home again, I kmow well how he ment. - Forjerd to dee, for fear to die. flat with the fuce to the ground. Icelandic ' Slo, slay. ' Gro/lyiujc.s, lyinj "Bmfl." • Nokyns, of no kind. There was also "alkyn" and "alkyns," of every kind. Lower down also " thiskyn," of this kind. ' Seyn, seen. Let your love for my mother now be seen. « Meyn, complain. 7 pi„cd, put to pain. » Twyn, be parted. ..LT"'" '"'" *' ■'*■"■• 1"''^'''.v will she ask. Tile and tit (Icelandic titta and "titf), frequent. Sj.vr (First-English "spirian"), to search out, inquire, i.e., follow the spiir, spoor, or track r.« her. to her. la To I come, till I come. Amjcliis. Gladly, Lord, I am ready. Thy bidding shall be magnified ; I shall me speed full hastily. Thee to obey at every tide ; '■* Thy will. Thy name, to glorify, Over all this world so wide. And to Thy servant now in hy. Good, true, Abraham, will I glide. Abraham. But might I yet of weeping cease, Till I had done this sacrifice ! It must needs be, withouten lesse,'* Though all I carp on thiskyn -wise, The more my sorrow it will increase ; When I look to him I gi-yse ; '^ I wiU run on a res,'' And slo him here, right as he lies. Angelas. Abraham ! Abraham ! Abraham. Who is there now 'i Ware, let thee go. Angclus. Stand up, now, stand ; Thy good will come I to allow. Therefore I bid thee hold thy hand. Abraham. Say, who bade so ? any but thou ': Angclus. Yea, God ; and sends this beast to thine oft'erand. Abraham. I speak with God later, I tiow, And doing he me command. Aiigeliis. He has perceived thy meekness And thy goodwill also, iwis ; He will thou do thy son no distress. For he has grant to thee his bliss. Abraham. But wot thou well that it is As thou has said ? Aiiffi/iis. I say thee yis. Abraham. I thank Thee, Lord, well of goodness, That all thus has i-eleased me this 1 To speak with thee have I no space With my dear son till I have sjioken ; My good son, thou shall have grace, On thee now will I not be wroken, Kise up now, with thy f rely '' face. Isaac. Sir, shall I live ? Abraham. Yea, this to token. [Et osculalur <■«)«." Son, thou has scaped a full hard grace, Thou should have been both brent and broken. Isaac. But, father, shall I not be slain? Abraham. No, certes, son. Isaac. Then am I glad ; Good sir, put up your sword again. Abraham. Nay, hardly, son, be thou not adrad. Isaac. Is all forgeyn ? Abraham. Yea, son, certain. Isaac. For ferd, sir, was I near hand mad. While in this way the English peoi)le, forbidden to hear the whole Bible read to them in their native tongue, were bringing it home as closely as they '» Tide, time. '= H'iOioufeii \esse, without lease, or lie. " (Jr!/,«. feel horror and dread. " Res (Pirst-Enfrlish " rtes "1, rush. " Frely, beautiful, causing delight. '^ And kisses him. TO A.D. 1360.] RELIGION. could to tlieii" daily lives, John Wiclif, the first who, after the Conquest, was to give the Bible itself to the peojile, was ripening for the great work of his life. John Wiclif was born about the year 1324, of a family that derived its name from the small village of Wycliti'e, which is about six miles from Barnard Castle, in Yorkshire. He was born, jjrobably, at the village of Hipswell, near Richmond. He was educated at the University of Oxford, and became eminent for his acquirements in theology and in philosophy. A contemporary, William Knighton, who wa.s his opponent, says tliat he was " most eminent " as a teacher of theology, in philosophy " second to none," and " incomparable in scholastic studies." In 1350 Wiclif produced a tract on the " Last Age of the Church," suggested by the deso- lating plague of 1348-9, which occuiTed when he was received from that College the rectory of Fylingham, in Lincolnshire. Langland, Cower, and Chaucer were also duiing these years advancing to the fulness of their power, and among other religious literature three books were produced — " The Ayenbite of Inwit," the " Cursor Mundi," and the Hermit of Hampole's " Prick of Conscience," of a kind that has been already illus- trated. The Ayenbite (Again-bite, Ee-morse) of Inwit (Con-science) was a version by Dan (which means Dominus or Master) Michel, of Northgate, Kent, from a French treatise called " La Somme des Vices et des Vertues," composed in 1279 for Philip II. of France by a French Dominican, Friar Laurence. It is a work of the type illustrated by Robert of Brunne's " Handlyng Synne'" from the French of Wycliffe. {From Hailam' torij of RtclunoiuWiirc." ) about twenty-four years old, Thomas Bradwardine, newly become Archbishop of Canterbury, and the author of the most acute theological book of his time, the " Summa Theologise," died of that plague. Wiclif thought that the plagues which scourged the nations indicated that the second coming of Christ was near, and that the fourteenth century would be the Last Age of the World. Among signs of the end were the corruptions of the Church. " Both vengeance of sword," he said, " and mischiefs un- known before, by which men in those days shall be punished, shall befall them, because of the sins of the priests. Hence men shall fall u[X)n them and cast them out of their fat benefices, and shall say, ' He came into his benefice by his kindred ; and this by a covenant made before. He, for his worldly service, came into the church ; and this for money.' Then eveiy such pi-iest shall cry, ' Alas, alas, that no good spii-it dwelt with me at my coming into the Church of God.'" In 1360 Wiclif was energetic in resistance to the undue influence acquired in Universities by the Dominicans and the Franciscans. This added to his reputation at Oxford, and in the followng year, 1361, he was made Warden of Baliol Collecce, and an Englishman, but it is in jnose, and it is not made lively with illustrative tales. The heads of its dissertation are the Ten C'ommandments, the twelve articles of the Creed, the Seven Deadly Sins, Learning to Die, Knowledge of Good and Evil, the petitions of the Lord's Prayer, the four Cardinal Vii-tues, each elaborated with subdivisions. Penance, Almsgiving, Seven Steps and Seven Boughs of Chastity, the Seven Steps of Sobriety, and so forth. The " Cursor Mundi," or Course of the Workl, is a long and important poem in Northumbrian English, which begins by setting forth the delight men take in romances of Alexander, Cajsar, and King Arthur. But " The wise man will of wisdom hear, The fool him draws to foUy near.'' Delight in the folse love of the world leads to a bitter end, and soft begun-will end in smart, love of the Vii-gin Mary there is trust : — " For though I sometime he untrue. Her love is ever alike new." In the See pages 58 — 63. CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [i.D. 1360 In her honour, tlie poet says, he writes. •• In Ivcr worship bcprin would I A work tliiit should bo lastingly For to do men know her kin That much worship did us win." He will ti-U of that in the Old Testament story which jioints chiefly to Christ's coming, and then he will ti-11 of the salvation of the world by Christ who tlied for it, of Antichrist, and of the Day of Jndgment ; he will do it, not in French rhymes, wliich are of no use to the Englishman ignorant of French, but in their own tongue to the English, and especially to those who need the knowledge most, and who go most astraj'. " Xow of this prologue will I blin,' In Christes mime my book begin ; ' Cursor of the World ' I will it call, For almost it overrunnys aU. Take we our beginning than Of Him that all this world began." Then the poet begins with Creation, commenting and moralising ; tells of the three orders of angels, and how Michael fought against Lucifer. Of the dis- tance that Lucifer fell from heaven to hell, none can tell: " But Bede said fro Earth to Heaven Is seven thousand year and hundreds seven ; By journeys whoso go it may Forty mile everyche day." Man was made of the four elements, and has seven holes in his head, just as there are seven master stars in heaven. The poet dilates thus on the structure of man, and on the union of soul and body. Then he turns to Adam in Paradise, still blending touches of legend and speculation with his sketch of the Fall of Man. The story goes on through the lives of Cain and Abel to the Flood, and dwells on tlie history of Noah. Then he comes to the division of the world among Noah's sons, and looks to the different quarters of the world and its i-aces of men. From the Tower of Babel he passes to the third age of the world, with the history of Abraham, and proceeds at length through the lives of the patriarchs to Josejih in Egypt. Jacob's reason for sending to Egypt in the time of famine is thus given : — " Soon after, in a little while Jacob yode- by the water of Nile, He saw upon the water gleam Chaff lome tieting^ with the stream. Of that sight wex-" he full blithe And to his sons he told it swithe,' ' Childer,' he said, ' ye list and lete :* I saw chaff on the water flete ; 1 BUn, cease. 2 Tode (First-Englisli "eode"), went. 3 Fleting, floating. • ITcr, grew. First-English " weasan ;" past ' ^ Su'ifhf, quickly. ^ List rtiid letc, listen and tliiuk. Wbethen' it comes can I not rede. But down it fleteth full good speed. If it be comen fro far land. Look which of you will take on hand For us all do this travail. Thereof is good we take counsail, Again the flum' to follow the chaff. Corn there shall we find to haf.' " Tlie poem goes on in like manner, often suggest- ing tigures of Christ's coming, through the Exodus, and the histories of Moses and Joshua, to the Land of Promise ; tells the histories of Samson, of Saul, David, and Solomon at length, is brought through the later history of the Jews to the chief proj)hecies of Christ, and then proceeds to a full dwelling on the life of Christ. The Hermit of Hampole's " Prick of Conscience " is also a Northumbrian poem. Its author, Richard RoUe, was born at Thornton, in Yorkshii-e, about the year 1290, and educated at Oxford. When he was but nineteen years old he was seized with reli- gious enthusiasm for the life of a hei'init, and obtained from Sii' John de Dalton a cell, with daily suste- nance, at Hampole, about four miles from Doncaster. There he lived until his death in 1349, and he was one of the busiest religious writers of his day. He translated, as we shall presently see, the Psalms into English prose. He wi'ote many prose treatises, and he produced tliis poem of "The Prick" (that is, the Goad) " of Conscience " (" Stimulus Conscientias "). Its seven parts tell — 1. Of the Beginning of Man's Life ; 2. Of the Unstableness of tliis World ; 3. Of Death, and why it is to be dreaded ; i. Of Purga- tory ; 5. Of Doomsday ; 6. Of the Pains of Hell ; 7. Of the Joys of Heaven. Mediaeval foncies blend with the teaching. Thus the feebleness of man at birth is associated with memories of our fii'st parents : — " For imnethes ' es a child born fully That it ne bygynnes to youle and cry ; And by that cry men knaw than '" Whether it be man or weman. For when it es born it cryes swa : '^ If it be man it says, 'A, a ! ' That the first letter es of the nam Of oiu- forme-fader Adam. And if the child a woman be, When it is born it says, ' E, e ! ' £ es the first letter and the hede Of the name of Eve that bygan our dede. Tharfor a clerk made on this manere This vers of metre that es nroten here : Dicentcs E rel A quotqnot nriseuntiir ah Era. ' Alle thas,' he says, ' that comes of Eve (That es aU men that here byhoves Icvc '-), 7 Whetlien, whence ; formed like ftefhen, hence. 8 Again ihe Hum, against the course of the river. ' VnncUics, scarcely. First-English "eathe," easily; " uneathe," uneasily, with difficulty, scai'cely. '0 T?«i7i (First-English "thannc"). then. " Sma, so, thus. The First-English fonn of the word. 12 Byhoves levc, have to live. First-English " behofian," to behove. be fit, have need of. necessary. In impersonal form, the meaning is fit or 10 i.D. 1380.] RELIGION. 71 ■\Vhen thai er bom what-swa thai he, Thai say outher A, a I or E, e I ' " This is Richard Rolle's reason for the title he gives to his book : — •' Therefore this treatise draw I would In English tongue that may be called ' Prick of Conscience,' as men may feel, For if a man it read and understand wele And the matters therein to heart will tiike, It may his conscience tender make ; And to right way of rule bring it belive ' And his heart to dread and meekness diive, And to love, and yearning of heaven's bliss, And to amend all that he has done amiss." CHAPTER III. -A.D. 1360 TO WiCLiF, Laxgland, and Others.- A.D. 1400. Ix the year 1.360 the Psalter was the only book of Scripture of which there was a translation into English of a date later than the Conquest. Within twentv-five years from that date John Wiclif had secured by his own work and that of true-hearted companions a translation of the whole Bible into English, including the Apocrypha. In the year 1365, Simon of Islip, Archbishoji of Canterbury, made John Wiclif. From the Porlyait in the Kectorij at Wycliffe, John Wiclif Warden of Canterbury Hall at Oxford, which stood where there is now the Canterbury Quadrangle of ChrLstchurch. Canterbitry Hall had on its foundation a Warden and eleven Scholai-s, of whom eight wei-e to be secular clergy, but the other three and the Warden were to be monks of Cluist 1 Belive, quickly. First-English "hi life," with life. Church, Canterbury. Simon of Islip removed the four monks, including the Warden, in 1 36.5 ; and he put Wiclif and three other secular clergy in their place. In 1366 Islip died, and his successor enter- tained an appeal against his dealing in the ca.se of Canterbury Hall. Tlie new Archbishop pronounced Wiclif 's election void. Wiclif resisted, and appealed to Rome. After three or four years of uncertainty, the Pope supported the monks, and con tinned Wiclif 's ejection. It was in 1 365, the year of Wiclif 's appoint- ment to the Warden's office at Canterbury College, that the Pope revived a claim on England for homage and tribute which had remained unpaid for the last three-and-thirty years. In 1366, Edward III. laid the demand before Parliament, which answered that, forasmuch as neither King John, nor any other king, could bring tliis realm into such thraldom but by common consent of Parliament, which was not given ; therefore what John did was against his oath at his coronation. The Pojie liad threatened that if Edward III. failed to pay tiibute and arrears, he should be cited by process to appear at Rome, and answer for liimself before his ci^■il and spiiitual sovereign. The English Pai-liament replied that if the Pope sliould attempt am-thing against the king by process or otherwise, tlie king with all his subjects should resist with all tlieir might. A monk then wrote in vindication of tlie Papal claims, and chal- lenged Wiclif, by name, to reply to them, and justify the decision of the English Parliament. Wiclif at once replied vdth a defence of the king and Par- liament, in a Latin tract or "Determination" on Dominion, " De Dominio." The king had made Wiclif one of his chaplains, and his argument against the claims of Papal sovereignty procured him friends at court. In 1372, when he was about forty-eight yeare old, John AViclif became Professor of Divinity at Oxford. Man}- were drawn to liis lectures and .sermons, and we also may now liear Dr. Wiclif preach : — THE HEALIXG OF THE XOBLEMAX's SOX." Erat qiiidem regulus. Joh. i%'. [46]. There was a ceiiain [little king] nobleman. This Gospel telleth how a king, that some men say was a heathen man, beiieved in Christ and deserved to have a miracle of his son. The story saith, how in Galilee was dwelling a little king, in the city of Capernaum, that had a son full sick of the fever. And when he heard teU that Jesus came from Juda>a to Galilee, he came and.met him on the way. = This sermon is one of those published iu " Select English Works of John Wycliff, edited from original MSS. by Thomas Arnold, M.4., of Uiiiversity College, Osfoid. In three volumes. Published for the University of Oxford by the Clai-endou Press in 1869 and 1871." This issue was undertaken by the Delegates of the University Press at the suggestion of Canon Shirley, who had devoted many years to the study of Wiclif, and issued in 1865 a "Catalogue of the Original Works of John Wycliff," as an aid to study of the Eeformer. Very many of his works remained unpriuted. Dr. Shirley did not live to enrich these volumes with the full Introduction he proposed to write, but they were carefully produced by an editor of his own choice, and have helped greatly to remove the discredit of a neglect of Wiclif s English writings under which England had lain for many years. Mr. Arnold has taken much pains to distinguish Wiclif's work from that of hi; followers. CAi^SELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [a.d. 1360 and prayed him come down and heal his son, for he was in point of death. And Christ said to this king, to amend his belief. Ye beUeve not in Jesus hut if ye see signs and wonders; as this man believed not in the Godhead of Clirist, for if he had, he should have trowed that Christ might have saved his son 'if he had not bodily come to this sick man and touched him. But this king had more heart of health of his son than he had to be healed of untruth that lie was in, and therefore he told not hereby but ask.'d eft ' Christ to heal his son ; and in this form of words, in which he shewed his untruth, " Lord," he said, " come down before that my son die." But Jesus as wise Lord and merciful healed his son in such manner that he might wite^ that he was both God and man ; "Go," he said, '-thy son liveth." And therewith Clirist taught his soul both of his manhood and Ciodhead, and else had not this king trowed:' but this Gospel saith that he trowed and all his house. And upon this truth "he went homeward and met his men upon the way, that toldtin him that his son should live, for he is covered'' of his eWl. And he asked when his son fared better, and they sniden that yesterdicy the seventh horn- the fevers forsook the child. And the father knew, by his mind, that it was the same horn- that Christ said, " Thy son liveth," and herefore believed he and all his house in Jesus Christ. And therefore Jesus said sooth tliat he and men like to him trowcn not but if they se(> both signs and wonders. It was a sign of the sick child that he did works of an whole man, but it was a great wonder th.-it by virtue of the word of Cluist a man so far .should ben whole, for so Christ shewed that he is -virtue of Godhead, that is everywhere ; and this virtue must be God, that did thus this miracle. This story saith us this second wit" that God giveth to holy writ, that this little king betokeneth a man's wit by sin slidden from God, that is but a little king in regard of his Maker ; and bis son was sick on the fevers, as weren these heathen folk and their affections that comen of their souls ; but they hadden a kindly^ will to wite the truth and stand therein. This king came from Capei-naimi, that is, a field of fatness ; for man fatted and alarded wendeth away from God. This man's wit when he heard that Jesus came to heathen men, and that betokeneth Galilee, that is ti-ansmigration, met with Jesus in plain way, and left his heathen possession, and prayed (iod to heal his folk that weren sick by ghostly fever. But Christ sharped these men's behef, for faith is first needful to men, but understanding of man prayed Christ come down by gi-iice befoi-e man's affections die about earthly goods. But, for men troweden the Godhead of Christ, they weren whole of this fever when they forsoken this world and put their hope in heavenly goods. These servants ben low virtues of the soiJ, which, working jo)-fully, tellen man's wit and his will that this son is whole of fever. This fever betokeneth shaking of man by imkindly distemper of abundance of worldly goods, that ben unstable as the w-ater ; and herefore saith 8t. James that he that doubteth in belief is like to a flood of the sea that with wind is borne about. That these servants toldin this king that in the seventh hour fever forsook this child, betokeneth a great wit as Robert of Lincoln? sheweth. First it betokeneth that this fever goeth away from man's kind by seven gifts of the Holy Ghost that ben understondeii by these hours. And this clerk dindeth the dixy in two halves by six hours, so that all the day • Eft, asain. 2 wite, know. ' Troircii. )ielieve.l. » Covered, recovered, cured. ' Second nit, secoud or under sense ; a mystical reading added to the plain one. 6 Kindly, natural. '' Eobert of Lincoln. Robert Grosseteste. (See page 54.1 betokeneth light of grace that man is in. The first six hours betokenen joy that man hath of worldly thing, and this is before spiritual joy, as utter man is before spiritual. But in the first hour of the second halt leaveth ghostly fever man, for whosoever have worldly joy, if he have grace on some manner, yet he trembleth in some fever about goods of the world : but anon in the seventh hour, that is the first of the second half, when will of worldly things is left, and spiritual things beginnen to be loved, then this shaking passeth from man, and ghostly health cometh to the spirit. And so shadows of light of sim from the seventh hour in to the night ever waxen more and more, and that betokeneth ghostly, that vanity of this world seemeth aye more to man's spirit till he come to the end of this life, to life that aye shall last. And so this man troweth in God, both with understanding and will, with all the mayue^ of his house, when all his wits and all his strength ben obeshing' to reason, when this fever is thus passed. Of this understanding men may take moral wit how men shall live, and large the matter as them liketh. Tins little ftmcy drawn from Grosseteste of the healing of the fever in the seventh hour is a pleasant example of that allegorical method of interpreting the Bible, that finding of -what Wiclif here calls the "second wit" of a passage, that spread chiefly from the example of the Greek Fathers of the Church. Such a second meaning, or mystical read- ing, was often added by interpreters of any passage from the Bible to what was held to be the doctrinal truth it contained, the essential truth first to be expounded Wiclif's preaching shows that while his first care was to deal -with what appeared to him the plain doctrines and duties set forth by the Gospel, he delighted in the exercise of wit for the develop- ment of spiritual imder-senses in this way of parable. Thus, for example, in a sermon on the fifth chapter of Luke's Gospel, which tells how Christ in Simon Peter's boat bjide him cast his net again into the sea, Wiclif spoke thus of THE TWO FISHINGS OF PETER. Two fishings that Peter fished betokeneth two takings of men unto Christ's religion, and from the fiend to God. In this first fishing was the net broken, to token that many men ben converted, and after breaken Christ's religion ; but at the second fishing, after the resurrection, when the net was full of many great fishes, was not the net broken, as the Gospel saith ; for that betokeneth saints that God chooseth to heaven. And so these nets that fishers fishen with be- tokeneth Cxod's Law, in whieh \-irtues and truths ben knitted; and other properties of nets tellen properties of Ciod's Law ; and void places between knots betokeneth Ufe of kind,'" that men have beside virtues. And four cardinal virtues ben figured by knitting of the net. The net is broad in the beginning, and after strait in end, to teach that men, when they ben turned first, liven a broad worldly life ; but after- ward when they ben deeped in Ciod's Law, they kccpen hem straitlier from sins. These fishers of God shulden wash their nets in this river, for Christ's preachers shulden clearly teUen God's Law, and not meddle with man's law, that is troubly 8 Mayii^ (Frencli " mesnie " ) , oricjinally the people upon the estab- lishment of a manse, which was a home with as much groimd about it as two oxen could till. ^ Ohe^hiu'i (French " obeiasant"), obedient. 10 Kind, natiu-e. 1J7S.1 EELIGION. ■water ; tor man's law containeth sharp stones and trees, by which the net of CJod is broken and fishes wenden out to the world. And this betokeneth Gennesareth, that is, a wonder- ful birth, for the birth by whieh a man is born of water and of the Holy Ghost is much more wonderful than man's kindly ' birth. Some nets ben rotten, some han holes, and some ben unclean for default of washing ; and thus on three manners faQeth the word of jjreaching. ^Vnd matter of this net and breaking thereof given men great matter to speak God's word, for virtues and vices and truths of the Gospel ben matter enow to preach to the people. All Wiclif's preaching was true to this definition of what ought to be the matter of the preacher, '•■virtues and vices, and truths of the Gospel;" but among vices that most hindered religion were those of the professed teachers of religion, and an essential part of Wiclif's service to the peoi)le was his labour to check the corruptions of the Church. His chief service -was the giving of the Bible itself to common Englishmen. He was at -work upon this in 1374 when an inquiry into the number and value of English benefices given to Italians and Frenchmen caused a commission, of which Wiclif was a member, to be appointed for negotiation at Bruges with the Court of Rome. In November, 1375, Wiclif was presented to the prebend of Aust, in the collegiate chm-ch of Westbury, in the diocese of Worcester, and not long afterwards he was appointed by the Crown to the rectory of Lutterworth, in Leicestei-shire. In 1376, a Parliament, cidled l)y the i>eople " the Good Parlia- ment," which opposed usurpations and t}Taniues both of the Pope and of the King — expelling and imprLson- iug some of John of Gaunt's adherents — presented a remonstrance to the Crown upon the extortions of the Court of Rome. In this it urged that the tax paid to the Pope of Rome for ecclesiiistical dignities doth amomit to five-fold as much as the tax of all the profits that ai)pertain to the king, by the year, of this whole realm ; and for some one bishopric or other dignity the Pope, by -way of translation and death, hath three, four, or five several taxes : that the brokers of that sinful city for money promote many caititts. Ijeing altogether unlearned and un- worthy, to a thousand marks living yearly ; whereas the learned and worthy can hardly obtain twenty marks ; whereby learning decayeth. That aliens, enemies to this land, who never saw, nor care to see, their parishioners, Imve those livings, whereby they despise God's service and convey away the treasure of the realm. There was much more that explicitly set forth e^"ils of Church cori-uption. It was in June of the same year that the death of the Black Prince deprived England of a popidar heir to the throne. In the next year, 1377, when the protest of Parlia- ment was continued, the Poi)e's collector, resident in London, a Frenchman in the time of English wai-s with France, who sent annually 20,000 marks to the i'ope, was gathering first-fru' ; throughout England. The Parliament advised th no such collector or proctor for the Pope Ije suffered to remain in England, upon pain of life or liml) ; and that, on tlie like pain, no EnglLshman become any such collector or proctor, 74 1 Ktndhj, according to natiu-e. or remain at the Court of Rome. While this was the political side of the reform movement, Wiclif for the support he gave it on spiritual grounds was cited to appear before Convocation at St. Paul's, on the 19th of February, 1377. The Court, then in fuU heat of political conflict with the Pope, supported Wiclif, and he was escorted to St. Paul's by John of Gaunt himself and Lord Henry Percy, the Earl- Marshal. The result was a brawl in the church, and a brawl following it in the town. The people con- founded the cause of Wiclif with the character of John of Gaunt, whom they had no reason to coimt among their friends, and judging by his companions the pure spiritual reformer who was the test friend they had, they took jjart, naturally, with the bishop whose authority the overbearing courtiers had in their own fashion defied. Four months afterwards — on the 21st of June, 1377 — Edward III. died, and his grandson Richard, son of the Black Prince, became king, at the age of eleven, as Richard II. Wiclif was then past fifty, and his work on the trans- lation of the Bible was within two or three years of completion. England was then sulTering much by war. The French and S})aniards committed unchecked ravages upon our coast, destroyed the town of Rye, burnt Hastings, Poole, Portsmouth, and other jilaces. Sore need of the means of self-defence quickened desire to check the Pope's drain on the treasures of the king dom. The Pope, upon change of reign, revived the claim of Peter's pence which Edward III. had resisted. AViclif was asked as to the lawfidness of withholding payments to the Po]*, and justified it by the law of nature, self-preservation, which God has imposed on nations as on indiWduals. He justified it also by the Gospel, since the Pope could claim English money only under the name of alms, and consequently under the title of works of mercy, according to the rules of charity ; but, he said, it would be madness, not charity, while i)ressed by taxation at home and facing the prospect of ruin, to give our goods to foreigner already wallowing in luxury. Bulls against Dr. John Wiclif, Professor of Divinity and Rector of Lutterworth, had been issued by the Pope before the death of Edward III. They were addressed to the King, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of London, and the University of Oxford. Private inquiry was first to be made as to Wiclif's heresies, and if this showed them to be as represented, he was to be imprisoned, and dealt with according to the instructions of his Holiness. Early in the year 1378, Wiclif api?eared before a Synod of Papal Commis- sioners, held in the Archbishop's Chajiel at Lambeth Palace. But the Londoners were now with the Reformer, a crowd broke into the chapel to protect him, and the commissioners were daunted also by a message from the ■s^ido^w of the Black Prince, for- bidding them to pass any sentence against Wiclif. He was dismissed with an admonition. It was at this time that the increasing move- ment for reform was aided by the schism in the Papacy. The removal of the Papal see to Avignon, early in the fourteenth century, by making the Pope dependent on the King of France, whose interests were held to be opposite to those of the King of 74 CASSELL'S LIBKARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [i.D. 1327 England, had greatly w(!akened the Pope's inflnence in this couiitiy. Upon the death of Gregory XL, in 1378, the Romans, W((ary of French Popes, elected an Itjilian, wlio Ijeciiuie Pope as Urlian VI. Against him W!us jir(?scntly set up a Frenchman as Clement VII. ; an" Hedd, poiu-ed. Icelandic " hella," to pour out. So in Wiclif's translation of Mark's Gospel, " No man sendith uewe wyn in-to oold botelis, ellis the wyn shal berste the wyu-vesselis, and the wj-n shall be helt^oiit.^' o Hcihiiiig, scolf. Icelandic "hajtha," to scotf at; " hajthiug," ri scoifin"*. !;: I TO A.D. 1400.] RELIGION. 75 John ; but Lis authorship of these is doubtful. In the Prologue to the Commentary upon Matthew's Gospel, their compiler strongly urged that the whole Scriptures ought to Ije translated into English. His Commentaries included the text they explained, and their method is set forth by liimself in this passage of his Prologue to the Commentary upon Luke : — " Hereforc a poor caitiff ' letted from preaching for a time for causes known of God, writeth the Gospel of Luke in English, with a short exposition of old and holy doctors, to the poor men of his nation which cunnen little Latin either none, and hen poor of wit and of worldly catel, and natheless rich of goodwill to please God. First this poor caitiff setteth a full sentence of the text together, that it may well be known from the exposition ; afterwards he setteth a sentence of a doctor declaring the te.xt ; and in the end of the sentence he setteth the doctor's name, that men moweu know verily how far his sentence goeth. Only the text of the Holy Writ, and sentence of old doctors and approved, ben set in this ex- position." Wliile Wiclif was at work, another wi'iter, whose name is unknown, but whose English is of the North of England, produced Commentaries upon Matthew, Mark, and Luke, executed upon the same principle. ThLs writer said in his preface to the Commentary on Matthew : — " Here begins the exposition of St. Matthew after the chapters that ben set in the Bible, the chapters of which Gospel ben eight-and-twenty. " This work some time I was stirred to begin of one that I suppose verily was God's servant, and ofttimes prayed me this work to begin ; sayand to me, that scthin the Gospel is rule, by the whilk e;ich Cliristian man owes to life,- divers has drawen it into Latin, the whilk tongue is not knowen to ilk man, but only to the lered, and many lewd men are that gladly would con the Gospel if it were di'awen into English tongue, and .so it should do great profit to man soul, about the whilk profit ilk man that is in the grace of God, and to whom God has sent conning, owes heartily to busy him. Wherefore I that thi-ough the grace of God began this work, so stirred, as I have said before, by such word, thought in my heart that I was holden by charity this work to begin ; and so this work I began at the suggestion of God's servant. And greatly in this doing I was comforted of other of God's servants divot's, to such time that through the grace of God I brought this to an end. In the whilk outdrawing I set not of mine head, nor of mine own fantasy, but as I found in other expositors." Another unknown worker made a version of St. Paul's Epistles into Latin and English. To Wiclif is ascribed a translation into English of Clement of Llanthony's " Harmony of the Gospels," and then, by separating the text from the annotation in his Commentaries, he is said to have produced complete English versions of the separate Gospels. Wiclif himself is believed to have been also tlie translator of ^ Mr. Tliomas Aruold arj^iies, among other things in opposition to Wiclif 's authorship of the Commentary, that he could hardly have called himself a *' poor caitiff," and that he was never " letted from preaching." ' Owes to life, ought to- live. the Acts of the Apostles, and of the Epistles, as well as of the Apocalypse. The chief translator in Wiclif 's time of the books of the Old Testament was Nicholas of Hereford. The oiiginal copy of his English version of the Old Testa- ment is in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, corrected throughout by a contemporary hand. A second copy in the Bodleian is a transcript made from the first before it was corrected, and it is in this eai'ly tran- script that the translation is said to have been made by Nicholas de Hei-eford. This Nicholas was a Doctor of Di\inity in Queen's College, Oxford, and was in 1382 — two years before Wiclif s death — one of the Lollard leaders in the University. On Ascen- sion Day in that year he preached at St. Frideswide's by order of the Chancellor. A few days later, on the 18th of May, he was cited before a synod of Domi- nicans at London, and on the 20th he delivered a paper containing his opinions. On the 1st of July, at an adjourned meeting in Canterbury, he was ex- communicated. He appealed to the Pope, went, it is said, to Rome, and was there imprisoned. Released with other prisonei's during an insurrection, he came to England, where, in January, 1386, he was com- mitted to prison for life by the Archbishop of Can- terbury. In August, 1387, he was free, and aiding Reformation. In October, 1393, he was present when Walter Brute, of Hereford, was charged with here.sy. In Feljruary, 1394, he was made Chan- cellor of the Cathedral at Hereford, and in March, 1397, he became Treasiu-er of the Cathedral. He was an old man when he resigned that office, in 1417, and joined the Carthusians of St. Anne's, at Coventry, among whom he died. This is a piece of his Old Teistament translation : — PSALM LXVII. God have merci of vs, and blisse to vs, li,(7te to his ehere vpon vs ; and haue mercy of vs. That wee kuowe in the eithe thi weie : in aUe jcntilis thi helthe g'wcre. Knouleche to thee puplis, God ; knouleche to thee alle puplis. Gladen and ful out ioye jentilis, for thou demest pupils in equite ; and jentihs in the erthc thou dressist. Knouleche to thee puplis, God, knouleche to thee alle puphs ; the orthe ^af liis frut. Blesse vs God, oure God, blesse us God ; and di'cde him alle the coostus of erthe. And here is a specimen of Wiclif 's New Testament translation. It is from Matthew's gospel — chapter vi. Take 3ee ' hede, lest 3e don 3our ri3twisnesse before men, that 3ee be seen of hem, ellis 30 shule nat han meed at 3oiure fadir that is in heuenes. Thorfore when thou dost almesse, nyle thou synge bj-fore thee in a trumpe, as j-pocritis don in s>-nagogis and strectis, that thei ben maad worshipful of men ; forsothe Y saye to 30U, thei han resceyued her meede. But thee doj-nge almesse, knowe nat the left bond what tin ri3t ' 3CC The character at the begiuiiing of this word is here used tliroughout for the soft >j, which it resemble3. It is not z. (See Note 2, page 49.) 7G CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [A.D. 1360 hond doth, that thi almes he in hidlis,' and thi fadir that sceth in hidlis, shal soldo to thoo. And when 3c shuhi prcyc, 300 shnln nat be as ypocriti.s, tho whiolio stondj-ngc loucn to preyo in svnaRogis and con.ors of streetis, that thoi be seen ot men; trewly Y siiv to 30U, thoi ban resseyuod her mcede. But whan thou Shalt preye, ontro in to thi couoho, and the dore schet, preye thi fadir in hidlis, and thi fadii- that seoth m hidhs, shal 3eelde to thoe. Sotholy prcyin-e nyle 300 speko mochc, as hothcn men don, for thei gesson that theibenherd m theire moche speohe. Thcrfore nyl 30 be niaad liche to hem, for 30ure fadir woot what is need to 30u, before that 30 axen hym. Forsothc thus 30 shulen prcyen, Oure fadir that art in houcnes, halwid be thi name ; thi kyngdom cumme to ; be thi wiUc don as in heuen and= in crthe ; 3if to va this day oure breed ouro other substaunce ; and forseuo to vs ourc dettis, as wo forsoue to oure dcttours ; and leede vs nat in to temptaoioun, but dolyucre vs fro yuol. Amen. Forsothe 3if 3ce shulen for3cuc to men her synns, and- 30ure heuenly fadir shal for3cuc to 30U 30ure trcspassis. Sothely 3if 300 shulen for3cue not to men, neither 30ure fadir shal for3eue to 30U 3ourc .sj-nncs. But when 300 fasten, nyl 30 he maad as ypocritis sorweful, for thoi putten her faeis out of kyndlij termys, that thoi seme fastynge to men ; trewly Y say to 30U, thei han resscyued her moede. But whan thou fastist, anoynte thin hedc, and washe thi faec, that thou be nat seen fastynge to men, but to thi fadir that is in hidlis, and thi fadir that seeth in hidlis, shal 3eold(! to thee. Nyle 30 tresoure to 30U trcsours in ertho, whcr rust and mou3the distruyeth, and .wher theeucs deluen out and stolen; but tresoure 300 to 30U tresouris in heuene, whor neither rust ne mou3the distruyeth, and wher theues dolurn nat out, ne stolen. Forsothe wher thi tresour is there and- thin horto is. The lantenie of thi body is thin 030; 3if thin ei3e be s>nn])le, al thi body shal be listful; hot 3if thvn ei3o be weyward, al thi body shal be derkful. Thcrfore 3if tho list that is in thee be dcrlmessis, how grete shulen thilk dorloK'Ssis be 'i No man may seruc to two lordis, forsothe ethir he shal haat the toon, and loue the tother; other he shal susteyn the toon, and dispise the tothir. 30 mown nat eeruo to God and richessis. Thcrfore Y say to 30U, that 36 ben nat bcsio to 3ourc lijf, what 30 shulen etc ; othir to 3oure body, with what 30 shuln be clothid. \Vlier' 30ui-o lijf is nat more than mete, and the body more than clothe ? Beholde 30 the Heesinge foiilis of the eir, for thei sowen nat, ne rcpyn, neither gadrcn in to bemys ; and soure fadir of heuen fedith hem. WTier 30 ben nat more worthi than thei? Sothely who of 30U thenkinge may putte to to his stature 00 cubite 'i And of clothing what ben 36 besye P Beholde 30 the lilies of the feeldc, how thei we.xen. Thei traueUen nat, nether spj-nncn. Trewly I say to 30U, for whi neither Salamon in al his gloric was kouerid as oon of thes. For sif God clothith thus the heye of the feeld, that to day is, and to morwe is sentc in to tho foui'neyse, how moobe more 30U of litil foith ? Thcrfore nyl 30 be bisie, saj-inge, What shulen we ote 'i or, What shulen we drynkc 'i or, With what thing shulen we be kcucrcd 'i Forsothe heitheu men soohcn alio fheso thingis ; trewly soure fadir wote that 30 han need to alio these thingis. Thcrfore seke 300 tirst the kyngdam of God and his ristwisnesse, and alle these thingis shulen be cast to 30U. Thcrfore nyle 30 be besie in to the morwe, for the morew dity shal be besie to it self ; sothely it sufficith to the day his malice. 1 }lid\i% a secret place. First-Eiiijlisli ** bydels." So Wiclif translates " Esultatio eonim .'^ioiit ejus qui lievorat pauperem in abscondito," '* The ffludnes of hem, as of byui that devoureth the pore in hi,llis." 2 And, also. « Whor, whether. Ill the last yeai-s of his lile, after he had secured a translation of the whole Bible iiito English by liinisflf and his fellow-workers,^ Wiclif wrote many Eii."lish tracts on the religious questions of the day ; aiKfliis labour for Reformation, that had begun with the corrujitions of Church dLscipliiie, included more argument against what he held to be corruptions of Church doctrine, especially upon the old question of the real presence of Christ in the bread and wine of the Sacrament. In 1 38 1 he issued twelve pro- positions against the doctrine of transubstantiation. In 1382, the London Dominicans, or Black Friars, as custodians of orthodox opinion, condemned as lieretical tv\renty-four conclusions dra\vii from Dr. Wiclif's writings. Apparently in reply to this came the triict setting forth " Fifty Heresies and Errors of Friars," ascribed to Wiclif, and probably liis, but perhai)s by one of his followers. Wiclif was then banished from the University, and in 1384 was summoned to appear before the Pope; but on the last day of that year he died. Of the personal appearance of the fii'st great Eng- lish Church Reformer there are only two records. '^ ' One From Bale' John Wiclif. * Centuries of British Wriicr& (1548). is the portrait, said to have been by Sir Antonio More, which Dr. Thomas Zouch, Rector of Wycliffe, in Yorkshire, gave to the rectory in 1796, to be pre- served by the rectors who should succeed him, as an heirloom of the rectory house. A copy of it is at the commencement of this chapter. The other record, ])erliaps more trustworthy, is a woodcut portrait which appeared in the first edition, published in 1548, and only in that first edition, of John Bale's " Cen- turies of the Illustrious Writers of Great Britain." * A noble edition of Wiclif's Bible was published by the University of Oiford in 1850 : " The Holy Bible, containing the Old and New Testaments, with the Apocryphal Books, in the Earliest Enghsh Version made from the Latin Vulgate, by John Wycliffe and his Followers. Edited by the Rev. Josiah Forshall, F.E.S., &c., late Fellow of Exeter College, and Sir Frederick Madden, K.H., F.R.S., fcc. Keeper of the MSS. in the British Museum. Oxford University Press." TO A.D. 1400.] RELIGION. 77 This is well executed, and except woodcuts of Bale himself jiresenting his book to Edward VI., it is the only portrait in the volume. The jiulilisher of that edition must, therefore, have valued it as a copy from some trustwoithy original which is not now to be found. The picture ascribed to Sir Antonio More must also have been copied from a portrait now lost, and there is likeness enough between the two. Fellow- worker and contemporaiy with John W'iclif was AVilliam Langland. His religious poem called " The Vision of Piers Plowman " was addressed to the whole body of the English people, and dealt earnestly with the material condition of the country, so far ;is that concerned its spiritual life. It was in the old English form of alliterative verse, and had a vocabulary rich, not only by the acqtiisition of new words from the Norman-French, but by the retention of old English words which had already become obsolete in the cultivated English of the towns, though still familiar among the people. Its popular English — English rather of the country than of the town — includes, in fact, so many woi'ds of which the disuse has, by this time, become general, that " The Vision of Piers Plo\vman " is now to be rejid less easily than contemporary verse of Chaucer's, ■ and to modern eyes looks older for that which gave it, in the ears of those for whom it was written, the ease of homeliness. It was not the homeliness of an ill-taught iiisticity, but of an educated man of genius who loved God and his countiy, and laboui'ed to litt many eyes from amidst the troubles of those times to Christ, typilied by the Plowman of whom he told his Vision. " The Vision of Piers Plowman " de- serves European fame as one of the great poems of the fourteenth century ; but it is enough for Lang- land if, after many years, his own comitrymen shall .still hold him Lii memory, and honour him because they share the spuit of his work. William Langland' may have been bom, as John Bale says that he was, at Cleobuiy Mortimer, in Shropshu-e, or, as a fifteenth-century note on one MS. of his poems says that he was, at Shipton- under-Wychwood, four miles from Burford, in O.xlord- shire, the son of a freeman named Stacy de Rokayle, who lived there ;vs a tenant under Lord le Spenser. Upon one MS. he is called William W., which may possibly mean William de Wychwood. In a part of liis poem which contains a reference to the accession of Richard II. in 1377, Langland seems to speak of his own age as forty-five : — " Cove)-tise-of-eyghcs confortod me anon after And folwed me foui-ty wj-nter and a fj-fte more." If we take this a.s direct evidence, the earliest pos- sible date of Langland's birth would be 1332. He was well educated, perhaps in the Priory School at * Bale, in his Latin "Centuries of the Illustrious Writers of Great Britain," called him Rohert Langland, boni at Cleobury Mortimer, in the clayland, and within eight miles of Malvern Mills. But earlier than this sixteeuth-centnry evidence of a writer who abounds in errors, B the evidence of the titles of MSS. which always call him William, of the author's own use of " Will " when he speaks of himself, and of a record on a Dublin MS. in a hand of the fifteenth century, ■which describes him as William of Langland, son of Stacy de Eokayle. Malvern, and then seems to have been engaged in that house upon olfices of the Church. His Vision was represented as occurring to him while ho slept from time to time on jNIahern Hills. The opening lines may be variously interpreted : — " In a somer suson whan soft was the sonne I shope me in shroudes as I a shcpe were. In habit as an heremite unholy of workes, Went wyde in this world wondres to here." Shepe hei-e is said to mean shepherd, and William is supposed to have imt on a shepherd's dress, which resembled that of a hermit. Hermit "unholy of works " was paraphrased by lir. Whitaker as mean- ing " not like an anchonte who keeps his cell, but like one of those unholy hermits who wander about the world to see and hear wondei-s," and some such sense of depreciation is usually given to the phrase. I thulk that " shepe" means sheep, as the opposite to shepherd ; and that William on a summer's day j)ut otT the clerical dress that marked his place among the pastors, made himself as one of the flock, in habit of a heremite, a man given to contemplation in the wilderness, — for Malvem Hills were then a famous wilderness ; and so to William's mind was the witle woild. He took the foi'm of a man devoting himself to lonely thought, who was " unholy of works," because he made himself as one of the flock, not of the ])astors, thinking and feeling as one of the people of England, and as if he were not vowed to the sole contemplation of God. I do not suppose imholy to have any bad sen.se, but to mean only that William made himself, for the purpose of tlie poem, as one of the people, and put aside for a time his work as of one in holy orders. That he was incor- porated in some way with the gi'eat religious house at Malvern is made the more probable by the account he gave in later life of his means of subsistence when living in Cornhill with Kit his wife : — " And iuh lyue in London and on London both The lomes- that ich laboure with and lyflodo'* deserve Ys pntcr-nosler and my prymer, placebo and rlirir/i', And my sauter som tyme and my seuene psalmes. Thus ich sj'nge for hure soules of suche as me hclpen And tho * that fynden me my fode." The fi-eedom with which William Ljingland entered into the new spii-it of refoi-mation stayed, no doubt, his advancement in the Church. Such a man as a married priest, with a wife Kit and Calot a daughter, might li\e in London and on London by the heljj of those who shared his aspirations and could lighten the burden of his daily life; but he had entirely turned his back upon the race for Church preferment, and had indeed, in the eyes of the Church superiors, " shope himself in shroudes as he a shepe w(ire, Ln habit as an heremite unholy of workes." He had gone out into the \vildenies.s that he might tell us of » lomes, utensils. First-English " Itima " and " geldma," household stuff, utensils, furniture, stock, store. 3 Ltjjiodt (First-English " liflide "), maintenance, livelihood. * Tho, those. 78 CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [A.D. 1362 the solemn voices that he heard through all the noise and liablile of the world. Langlaud's poem ro.se out of almost his whole life as a man. He began it about the year 1362, when he was not older than thii-ty. He was thoroughly revising it about the year 1.377, when his age was forty-five, and he continued to revise and enlarge it during the next twenty yeai'S. The numerous MSS. which attest the gi-eat popularity of the poem repre- sent it in three forms, corresponding to these stages of its development — first in eleven passus, or divi- sions ; then in twent}' ; then in twenty-three. It was from a MS. of the second form that Robert Crowley, dwelling in Ely Rents in Holborn (he was Vicar of St. Giles's, Cripplegate), first printed "The Vision of Piei-s Plowman," in 1550, in a quarto volume of 250 pages. It was published to assist, by its tiiie voice, the gi-eat effort made towards reformation in the reign of Edward VI., and so heartily welcomed that there were tlii-ee editions of the poem at this date. It was again printed by Reginald Wolfe in 1553 : and, after the interval of Mary's reign, again l)y Owen Rogers in 1561. But Langland's work was known to -^-ery few when, in 1813, Dr. Thomas Dunham Whitaker printed an eilition of it from a JVIS. of the third and latest type. It was edited again by IMr. Thomas Wri'tht," in 1842 and 185G, the latter edition being a most convenient and accessible one, forming two volumes of a " Library of Old English Authoi's." ' Mr. Wright's edition was from a MS. giving a form of the poem similar to that published by Robert Crowley ; and in 1867, 1869, and 1873, each of the three forms of the MSS. of " Piera Plowman " was represented, with collation of all the best of the three dozen MS. texts, in editions prepared by the Re^•. W. W. Skeat, for the Early-English Text' Society.^ Wandering over jVIalvern Hills on a May morning, William became weary. He lay down and slept upon the grass. Then he saw in a dream — first of the series of dreams that form his Vision — " all the wealth of this world, and the woe both." Between the sunrise, where rose in the east the Tower of Truth, and the sunset, where Death dwelt in a deep dale, " A fair field full of folk found I there between. All manner of men, the mean and the rich. Working and wandering as the world asketh." > The " Library of Old English Authors," published by J. E. Smith. Soho Square, has already beeu referred to as contaiumg iu three of its five-shilliug volumes Sir Thomas Malory's " History of King Arthur." It is a series of ^ood handy editions of books of real wortli. 2 Mr. Skeat's work iipon Langland's great poem is singularly thorough. He i>ublishes, with a si)ecial introduction, each of its three forms separately, from collation of the MSS., with various readings and reference to the MS. containing each. A fourth section is assigned to the General Introduction, Notes and ludes. Besides this work ou the whole poem, Mr. Skeat has contributed to the Clarendon Press Series the fu-st seven passus — " The Vision of ■William concerning Piers the Plowman, by William Langland, accord- ing to the version revised and eidarged by the author about a.d. 1377," with Introduction, Notes, and Glossary, as ,an aid to the right study of Early English in colleges and schools, and also as a most efficient guide to the reading of the whole poem by those to whom its Euglish, without such help, would be obscure. IVIr. Skeat's thorough study of the x>oem from all points of view makes him our chief anthority in auy question concerning it. Some put themselves to the plough, took little rest, and earned that which the wastei-s destroy by their gluttony. Some put themselves to pride, and clothed themselves thereafter in many a guise. Many put themselves to prayer and penance, living hard lives for the love of our Lord, in hope to liave a good end, and bliss in heaven. Some lived by trade ; and some by minstrelsy, avoiding labour, swearing great oaths, and inventors of foul fancies, making themselves fools, though they have wit at will to work if they would. Beggai-s were there with full bags, brawling and gluttonous ; pilgrims and palmers who went to St. James of Compostella and the saints of Rome, and had leave to tell lies all their lives after. Long lubbers made pilgrimages to our Lady of Walsing- ham,'" clothed themselves in copes to be known from other men, " And made themselves Hermits, their ease to h.'xve. I found there Friars, aU the four orders,'' Preaching the pcoiJe for profit of the warn* And glosing^ the Gospel as them good liked. There preached a Pardoner, as he a Priest were. And brought forth a bull with, bishop's seals. And said that himself might assoil them all Of falseness of fastings, of vows to-broke. Le'sved men Ueved^ him wcU, and likeden his words, Comen and kneleden, to kissen his bulls.* He lilessed' them -n-ith his brevet,'" and bleared " theii' eyne 3 Our Lady of WaUingham. The shrine of the Virgin Mary in the monastery of the Augustinian Canons at Walsingham, in Norfolk (twenty-seven miles N.W. of Noi"wich), attracted very many pilgrims, Norfolk people said that the Milky-way pointed to it, and was Wal- siugham-way. The monastery was founded in the eleventh century by Geoffrey de Taverche. Henry VIII. in the second year of his reign walked barefoot from the village of Barsham to the shrine at Walslngham, but afterwards he caused the image of Our Lady to be burnt at Chelsea. The i-uins are now a lofty arch, sixty feet high, some cloister and another arch, a stone bath, and the two Wishing Wells. Any pilgi-im allowed to drink of their water had his wi.sh. * Friors, all the /out- ordcra. Grey Friars (Franciscans or Minorites) ; Black Friars (Dominicans) ; "White Friars (Cai-melites) ; Austin Friars (Augustines). The foundation of the Grey and Black Friars has been described (see pages 52, 53). The Cai-melites claimed Elijah for their founder. They were estabhshed iu the twelfth century by Berthold, a Calabrian, who went to the Holy Land and formed a hermit community on Mount Carmel, the traditional abode of Elijah. Pressed out by the Saracens in 12;J8, they spread over Europe, and had in Langland's time about forty houses in England and Wales. The Austin Friars followed the EiUe of St. Augustine, prescribed by Pope Alexander IV. in 1256. 5 iram, womb. Fust English " wamb." the belly. ^ Glosiitff, commenting on, inter^jreting. ' Lieiied, beheved. First-English " lytan," to allow. 8 Bulls were so called from the seals attached. The round official seal of stamped lead attached to the document was called bulla from its roundness. This is one of a class of mimetic words said to origi- nate in the roundness, or of the motion of the bubbles in a boiling pot. BiiU or hnn, from the roundness of the bubble. BnUot. a little ball ; balfoon, a great one. Ballare, to dance from the movement of boiling, whence hull, a dance ; hallct, a little dance. So ballads were probably named from the old custom of swaj-ing to and fro m various ways, accordant to the mood expressed by the reciter. ' Blessed. Another MS. has !.onch«!, hammered at. Icelandic "banga,"to hammer, whence the common English form " to bang," and a provincial form " to bunch," meaning to strike. 1" Brcrel, letter of indulgence. A short official letter. Old French " brie%-et," from Latin " breve," like English and German " brief." So also in IceUndic " href " meant a letter and a written deed, or official despatch, in which last sense ( according to Cleasby and Vigfusson) the word first occurs in the negotiation between Norway and Sweden, A.D. 1018. " Bleared, made dim. This is not the word bleared applied to eyes TO A.D. 14^C).] EELIGION. 79 And rdught -n-ith his rageman' rings and brooches. Thus ye giveth your gold gluttons to help." But, says the poet, though the bishop were a saint and worth both his eai-s, his seals should not be sent to deceive the people. Parsons and parish piie.sts, in this field full of folk that stood for the English world, complained in Will's dream to the bishop that theii- parishioners were jwor since the jjcstilence time, and asked licence to live in London — ■ " And sing there for simony : silver is sweet. Bishops and bachelors, both masters and doctors. That have cure under Christ, and crowning in token, Ben charged with Holy-Church Charity to till. That is leal love and life among learned and lewed ; - They lien in London in Lentene and elles. Some serveu the King, and his silver teUen,' In the chequer and the chancelrj-, challenging his debts, Of wards and of wardmotes, waifs and strays. Seme aren as seneschals and serven other lords. And ben in stead of stewards, and sitten and dcmen.* Conscience accused such men, and the people heard, and the world was made woi-se by their covetousnes.s. The Cardinals to whom St. Peter entrusted his power to bind and to unbind were not the Cardinals at court, who take that name and presume power in themselves to make a Pope ; they were the four Cardi- nal Virtues. So Will, in his Vision, looked upon the world till a King came into the field led by Knight- hood — " the much might of the men made him to reign." And then came Kind-wit, the knowledge of the natui-dl man, and he made Clerks; and Conscience, Kind-wit, and Knighthood together agreed that the Commons should support them. Kind-wit and the Commons contrived between them all the crafts, and for chief profit of the people made a plough, whereby men may live tlu'ough loyal labour while there remains life and huid. Here Langland applies the media; val fable of the rats and mice who wished to bell the cat that they might know when to get out of his way ; but when the bell was bought and fastened to a collar, there was no rat of all the rout, for all the realm of France, that dui-st have bound the bell about the cat's neck. Then stood forth a wise little mou.se, who said — red after crying — a word said to be formed from blear ; but bleared allied to blurred. See pa?e 137, note 13 of tbe volume of this Library containing " Shorter English Poems." ' Raught y:ith his rageirum. Riught^ reached, got to himself. First- English "rse'can." — Rageman. In the Chronicle of Lanercost (edited by Stevenson, page 261), we read that an instrument or charter of subjection and homage to the kings of England is called by the Scots ragman, because of the many seals hunging from it. " Unum instru- mentum sive cartam subjectionis et homagii faciendi regibus Angliie . . . . a Scottis propter multa sigilla dependentia ragman voca- tnr." That is the sense in which Langland uses the word. After- wards in Wyntoun's Chronicle, Douglas and Dunbar, "ragman" and "ragment" mean a long piece of writing, a rhapsody, or an account. la course of time, it is said, " ragman's roll " became ** rigmarole. ' * Leved, the unlearned moss of the people. First-English " leode," people. ' Tellen, count. First-English " tellan," * Dcnun, give judgment. " Though we had ykilled the cat, yet should then- come another To cratchen us and all our kind, though we creep under benches, For-thi* 1 counsel, for common profit, let the cat be, And never be we so bold the bell him to shew. For I heard my sire saj-n, seven year past, ' There ^ the cat nis but a kitten the court is full aOing;' Witness of Holy Writ, who so can read — J'te tiriee ubi puer est rex Salamon," " Woe to thee, O Land, when thy king is a cluld!" (Ecclesiastes x, 16), There is here one of the pathetic echoes of this cry which blended with the voice of England in our literature after young Eichard II, became king. Langland apfilied his fable of the belling of the cat to the power of Edward III.'s son, John of Gaunt, the richest noble in England, the \nelder of royal power in the last yeare of his father's weakness, and one who was believed to be looking forward to possession of the thi'one. Detested by the commonalty, he was the cat whom the rats and mice desiied to bell. Langland's pai-able was a veiled suggestion that no substantial gain was to be hoped Though we might bell the cat, what of the kitten ? CoiUd the misery of the land with John of Gaunt foiemcst at court be less when it hiwl a cliild for king and its princes ate in the morning ? What his dream of the cat and the rats meant he said to his readers "divnne ye, for I ne dare." The misery of the land ! We have referred to the burning and ravage of our coast towns at the close of Edward III.'s reign. Langland has represented country pi'iests pleading that they could not di-aw livings out of congregations wasted and impoverished by plague. Later reference to these pestilences, as well as to a memorable high Avind, and to the treaty of Bretigny, fix the year 1362 as about the time when Langland began to write his Vision. The first two of the great jjestilences of the fourteenth centiuy were suffered by England in the yeai-s 1318-49 and 1360-Gl. The earlier of these, known as "the Black Death " or " the Great Mortality," was, of all plagues, the most desolating ever known in Eiuope. It was said that the plague entered Italy ^vith a thick foul mist from the east. Unseasonable weather had caused general failure of crops. In the spring of 1347, before the plague, bread was being distributed to the poor in Italian cities ; 94,000 twelve-oimce loaves were given away daily from large public bakehouses erected in Florence alone. Famine pre- ceded pestilence; and of the famine many died. The " Black Death " had raged on the northern .shores of the Black Sea before it was brought thence to Con- stantinople, Thence it passed, in 1347, to Cypnis, Sicily, Mai-seiUes, and some of the seaports of Italy. It spread over the Mediterranean islands, and reached Avignon in Januaiy, 1348. Petrarch's Laura was there among its victims. It spread through Italy and France, was in Florence by April, passed into Germany, entered England in August, but three months then passed before it had reached London. 2 For-thi, therefore. 6 There, where. 80 CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [a.d. 1362 In 1349 it v,'i\s sweeping over northern Europe, bnt it did not reach Russia till 1351. Those were not days of accurate statistics, and we may say nothing of" the 23,S-t(),000 said to have died by this plague in the East ; but of Western towns, civilised enougli to have some notion of the number of their inhabi- tants, Venice said that there perished 100,000 of her people, or three-fourths of the whole population ; Florence said she had lost 00,000 ; Avignon, 60,000; Paris, .")0,000; London, 100,000; Norwich, 51,100; Yarmouth, 7,052. In many places half the popula- tion died ; some little towns and villages lost all by death and flight. Of the Franciscan Friai-s in Ger- many there were said to liave perished 124,434, and iji Italy 30,000. Merchants sought favour of God by laying down their treasiu'es at the altar ; monks shunned the gifts for the contagion that they brought, and closed their gates, and still had the vain riches of this world throwai by despairing men over their convent walls. In the Hotel Dieu at Paris, when five hundred were dying daily, pious women. Sisters of Charity, were about them with human ministra- tions and woixls of divine consolation. These nurses were perishing themselves daily of the disease from which they would not flinch in the performance of theii' duty ; and as they fell at theii- posts there never was a want of other gentlewomen to press in and carry on their sacred work. The Black Death was followed in England by a murrain among cattle. It has been estimated by a modern writer that this great pestilence destroyed a fourth part of the in- habitants of Europe.' The terror of this was fresh when pestilence, which broke out again at Avignon in 1360, was again scourging us in 1361. Of the second pestilence it was observed that the richer classes suffered bj' it in larger proportion than before. We return to William's Vision of " all the wealth of this world and the woe both." What means the mountain and the murky dale and the field full of folk, he will go on to show. From the Castle on the hill came down to him a fair lady who called him by his name, " And said, ' Will, sleepest thou ? Seest thou this people How Imsy they ben about the mase.'- The most part of the people that passeth on this earth Have they worship in this world they willon no better. Of other heaven than here they holden no tale.' ' I was afeared of her face, though she fair were. And said, ' Merci, madame ; ' what may this be to mean?' ' The tower upon toft,' ' quoth she. • Truth is therein. And would that ye wrought as His word teaeheth. For He is Father of Faith, and Former of All. To be faithful to Him He gave you five wits For to worshipen Him therewith while ye liven here.' " He bade the elements sen^e man, and yield all that man needed : three things only, clothing, and food, and 1 " The Black Death iu the Fourteenth Centiu-y." From the German of I. F. C. Hecker, M.D., Professor at Frederick William's University at Berlin. Translated by B. G, Babington, M.D. London, 1833. - Masc, bewildemieut. ^ Xo (a If, no account. * Mcrcit nindame. Pardon me, madame. — Courteous introduction to the putting of a question. 5 Toft, a green knoll, a site on a hill cleared for building. drink, without excess. Though you desu-e much. Measure is medicine. All is not good for the spirit that the body asks, nor is the flesh fed by that in which the soul delights. Believe not thy body, for the beguiling worfd speaks through it. Hear tlie soid's warning when the flesh leagues with the fieiuL "Ah, nm dame, merci," quoth I, "me Uketh weU your words. But the money of this mold that men so fast keepeth, TeU ye me now to whom that treasure belongeth:-" "Goto the Gospel," quoth she, "and see what God said When the people apposed" him of a penny in the temple. And (Jod asked of them what was the coin. ' Keddite C^sari,' said God, 'that to Caisar befalleth, Et quie sunt Dei Deo," or else ye don iU.' For rightfully Reason should rule you all And Kind-wit be Warden yoiu- wealth to keep. And tutor of your treasiure and take it you at need, For husbandry and he holdeth together." Then the di-eamer asked what was meant by the deep dale and dark. That, he was told, " That is the Castle of Care; whoso cometh therein May ban that he bom was in body and in soul ; Therein woneth'* a -wight, that Wrong is his name, Father of Falsehood, found it tirst of all." It was he wlio urged Eve to do ill ; who was the counsellor of Cain; who tricked Judas with the silver of the Jews, and hung him afterwards upon an elder- tree. He is the hinderer of love, and lieth always ; he betrayeth soonest tliem who trust in earthly treasure, to encumber men vrith covetousness. That is his nature. The dreamer next wondered who she was that showed him such ^vise words of Holy Writ, and asked her name. She said, "I am Holy-Church;. tliou oughtest to know me. I received thee at the fii-st, and made tliee a free man. Thou broughte.st me siu-eties to fulfil my liidding, to believe in me and love me all thy lifetime." Then he kneeled and a.sked gi-ace of her, and sought her jirayei-s for liis amend- ment, and that she would teach him to believe on Christ. He sought to know of her no treasure but that slie would only tell him how to save liis soul. " ' ^^■^len all treasiu'es hen tried,' quoth she, ' Truth is the best ; I do it on Deus Caritas' to deem the sooth. It is as dereworthy a druery '" as dear God himself. For he that is true of his tongue and of his two hands And doth the works therewith, and wilneth no man Ul, He is a god by the Gospel, aground and aloft. And like Our Lord also, by Saint Luke's words." ^ Apposed him, put to him. ' " Bender unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are God's." (Matthew iiii. 21.) «' Woneth. dwelleth. First-Eusrlish " wimian," to dwell. * Dci(j! Cai-itd.^, God is Love. 1" As dereirorlhti n dnirri;, as precious an object of affection. Dert. vorthy, First-English " deo-wxu-the. Druery (Old French " druerie "). love. " Itwastold Jesus, "Thy mother and thy brethren stand without, desiring to see thee. And he answered and said unto them. My mother and my brethren are these which hear the word of God .an-)' do it." (Luke viii. 20, 21.) •to A.D. 1400.] RELIGION. 81 Clerkes thnt knowcn, this should keimen it' about. For Christian and Umhristian claimeu it each one.' " Kings should rule for the maintenance of Tr\ith, and knights be as those whom David swore to serve Truth e\ er. The fair lady told the dreamer of the faithful angels and the pride that laid Liicifer lowest of all, with whom they that work evil shall dwell after their death day. But all that have wrought well shall go eastward to abide ever iti heaven, where Truth is God's throne. " ' Lere- it these lewcd men, for lettered it knoweth, Than Truth and True Love is no treasure better.' ' I have no kind knowing,' quoth I, ' ye mote ken me better By what way it waxetb, and whether out of my meaning.' ' Thou doted dafi,' quoth she, ' dull aren thy wits. I lieve thou leamedst too lite' Latia in thy youth. Sen mi/ii, qnml sterihm dnxi vitum jurcnilem .' * It is a kind knowing that kenncth in thine heart For to love they Lord Uefest of all And die rather than do any deadly sin. Mi/iifs I'st mori t^itom )n(ile vivereJ* And this I trow be Truth, whoso can teach thee better Look thou suffer hiui to .say, and so thou might learn. For Truth telleth that Love is triacle* for sin And most sovereign siilve for soul and for bod)'. Love is the plant of ])eace and most precious of virtues, For Heaven might not holden it, so heavy it seemed. Till it had of the earth eaten his fiU. And when it had of this fold flesh and blood taken Was never leaf upon lind'' lighter thereafter.' " Love led thenceforth the angels ; Love was mediator between God and Man. God the Father made us, loved us, and suifei'ed His Son to die meekly for our misdeeds to amend us all. He willed no woe to his pei-secutors, but mildly with mouth he besought Mercy to have pity on that people that pained him to death. " Forthi I ri 'de * you rich have pity on the poor. Though ye be mighty to mote ' be meek in youi' works ; The same measure that ye meteth, amiss or else. Ye shall be weighed herewith when ye wenden hence. Endem moisura qiin mc»si fneritis^ renieclefur voOis.^^ Though ye be true of yoiu- tongue, and truly win, And be as cha.ste as a child that neither chides nor fighteth. But if" ye love loyally and lend'- the poor Of such good as God sent a goodly part, Ye have no more merit in mass ne in hours " ' Kennen it, make it known. 2 2,ere, teach. * Lite, little. First-Eniclisli " lyt," from which *' Ijrtel " was formed by a diminutive suffix. * Alas for me, that I have led a barren life in my youth. 5 It is better to die than to hve ill. ^ Triach, Theriaca, a very famous ancient antidote to poison. See the volume of this Library- containing *' Shorter English Poems," page 21, Note 11, ' Linii, Hnden or lime-tree, applied also generally to a tree. ^ Ride, counsel. ^ Mighty to mote, powerful when you cite poorer men, or plead against them in the law courts. 10 •' With what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again." (Matthew vii. 2 ; Luke vi. .38.) u But if, unless. '- Lend, give. '^ Hours, religious services for particular times of the day. 75 Than Malkin of her maidenhood, whom no man desireth. For James the gentle judged in his books That faith ^\-ithout fait ''' is feebler than nought, And dead as a door naU but if the deeds foUow. Fides sine operlbus mortua t's^.'^" Many chaplains are chaste, but fail in charity. There ai-e none harder and hungrier than men 01 Holy- Church, more hard and avaricious when advanced, and mikind to their kin and to all Cliristians. They eat up what is theu's for charity, and chide for more. Encumbered with covetousness they cannot creep out of it, so closely has avarice hasped them together. This is ill example to the unlearned people, " For these aren wordes written in the Evangile Date et daiitur robis^^ (for I deal " you all), And that is the lock of Love that unlooseth Grace, That comforteth all Christians encumbered with sin. So Love is leech of life, and lysse "* of all pain, And the graft of grace, and graythest " way to Heaven. Forthi I may say as I said, by sight of the text, ^Mien all treasures ben tried, Truth is the best. ' Love it, ' quoth that Lady, ' let may I '-" no longer To lere -' thee what Love is. Now loke thee -- Our Lord ! ' " Then the dreamer knelt to the Lady, prajdng that she yet would teach him to know Falsehood from Truth. " Look on thy left hand," she said. " Lo, ■where he standeth ; both Falseness and Favel (flattei-y) and fickle-tongued Liar, and many of theii- mannere, both men and women." I looked, says Will, on my left hand as the Lady taught me, and saw there as it were a woman richly clothed and crowned. On all her five fingere were rings with red nibies and other precious stones. His heart was ravished by her riches, and he asked her name. " That maiden," said Holy-Church, "is Meed" (earthly reward), "who before kings and commons thwarts my teaching. In the Pojie's palace she is privy as myself. Her father is Favel, who has a fickle tongue that never spoke truth since he came to earth ; and Meed is mannered after him. I," Holy-Church went on, "ought to be higher than she; my Father is the great God and Ground of all Graces, One God, without beginning, and I his good daughter. The man who loveth me and followeth my will shall have grace and a good end ; but he who loves Meed, I dare pledge my life, shall lose for her love a lap full of charity. That mo.st helps men to heaven; Meed most hinders: I rest upon David's words, ' Lord, who shall abide in thy tabernacle? He that walketh uprightly,' ifec, 'nor taketh reward against the innocent.' 'lo-morrow is this Meed to be married to the wretch Falseness, kin to the Fiend ; Favel's tongue has enchanted her, and 1* Fait, something done. 1^ •■ Faith without works is dead." (James ii. 20.) 16 " Give, and it shall be given tmto you." (Luke vi. 38.) ■' Deu-t of Appeal was called the Court of Arches because in ancient times it was held in the church of St. Mary-le-Bow, Saucta Maria de -ircubus. * Witen, know. " Know all and witness that dwell here on earth," &c. 5 Kendeness, urbanity. The word in its first sense is equivalent to handiness. Handiness is ojjposed to clumsiness of the untauftht, and implies therefore the civilised ways and courtesies of social life ; urbanity as opposed to clownishness. 6 Fain (First-Ensrlish "feegen"), filad. ' VCot, knows. First-English "wat," from "witan." 8 Feoffed, endowed with property. 9 Uiibii-voni, unyielding. Buxom (First-English " buhsora "), from "bugau," to bow — bowsorae — means pliant, the reverse of stiff and obstinate. A busom woman is a woman without perversity, and I suppose the modern notion that to be buxom is to be plump comes of a popular association of fat with good temper. " Hests, commandments. First-English "hatau," to command; *' hae's," a command. 11 Chest (First-English " ceast "), strife, enmity. " S!cit)i». slippery ways. First-English "slith," slippery, evil; " slithan " ' and " slidan," to slide. 1^ Brokages, commissions. First-English " bruoan," to use, enjoy, drnw nrofit. And all the Lordship of Lechery in length and in breadth, As in works and in words and in waitings of eyes, In weeds" and in wishings, and with idle thoughts Where that will would and workmanship faileth. Gluttony he givcth them, and Great Oaths together. All day to di'ink at diverse tavernes There to jangle and to jape and judge their em- Cliristian, '° And in fasting days to frete " ere full time were, And then to sitten and soupen tiU sleep them assail, And awake with wanhope," and no wiU to amend, For they lieveth be'** lost, this is their last end; And they to have and to hold, and their heirs after, A Dwelling with the Devil and damned be for ever. With all the purtenance of Purgatory and the pain of Hell." "Wrong was the name of the first witness to this Deed, then followed Piers the Pardoner, Bette the Beadle of Buckinghamshire, Raynold the Reve of Rutland soken,'" Mund the Miller, and many more. When Theology heard this, he was vexed and said to Civil Law, " Now sorrow come to thee for contracting marriages that anger Truth. Meed is the daughter of Amends, and God grants her to Truth, but thou hast given her to a beguiler. Thy text telleth thee not so. Truth saith ' the Labourer is woithy of his hire.' Yet thou hast bound her to Falseness. Fie on thy law ! Thou livest all by leasings. Thou and Simony shame Holy-Church. The notaries and ye trouble the people. Ye shall pay for it, both of you. Ye know well that Falseness is faithless and of Beelzebub's kin ; but Meed is a well-born maiden who might kiss the King for cousin if she would. Be wise then. Take her to London where the law is taught, and see whether any law will suffer them to come together. But though the Justices adjudge her to Falseness, yet beware of the wedding. Truth has good wit, and Conscience is of his counsel and knows each one of you, and if he find you wanting and in league with Falseness it shall in the end be bitter to your souls." Civil Law agreed to this appeal to London ; but Simony and the Notaries could agree to nothing until they saw silver for it. Then Favel brought out florins enough, and bade Guile give gold all about, and s])ecially to the notaries that none of them might fail, and fee False-Witness with florins enough, "For he may master IMeed and make her subject to my will." When the gold was gi\-en there was a great thanking of Falseness and Favel, and many came to comfort Falseness, saying to him softly, ""We shall ne\er rest '* W'cfds, attire. Fu-st-Euglish " wae'd," clothing. '■■ Em-Christian. In First-English "em." in composition meant even or equal. '« Frete, eat gi-eedily. First-English " fretan," eat up, devour, gnaw. GeiTnan "fressen." " Wanhope, despair. The First-English prefix "wau" meant de- liciency, as in "waning" of light, in the word "wan" meaning deficiency of colour, and in " want." i« Lieveth he, believe themselves to be. " Sol-en. First-English " socn," a lordship privileged by the king to hold a " sue " or soke ; which was a court of the king's tenants or suc-men autborised to minister justice or have jurisdiction, and whose tenure w is tl erefore called " socagium " or socage-tenure TO A.D. 1400.] RELIGION. 83 luitil Meed be thy -wediled wife. For we have mastered Meed with our smootli tongues, and slie agrees to go to London, and has agreed to be married for money, if Law so will judge." Then Favel was ghid and Falseness was of good cheer, and the people on all sides were summoned to be ready to go with them to Westminster and honour the wedding. But they had no horses. Then Guile set !Meed on a sheritf newly shod. Falseness rode on a soft trotting sisour, and Favel on a tinely-adorned flatterer. Frovisors' were saddled as palfreys for Simony. Deans and sub- deans. Archdeacons and other officials, were saddled with silver to sufl'er all sins of the rout and carry bishops; Liar was to be a long cart to carry friai's, swindlei-s, and the rest who usually go afoot. So they went forth together with GuUe for theii- guide, and having Meed amongst them. Soothness saw them on the way and .said nothing, but sjied before to the King's court, where he told Conscience, and Conscience told the King. The King swore that if he caught Falseness or Fa\el, no man should bail them, but they should be hanged. He bade a constable go fetter Falseness and cut oft' Guile's head; put Liar in pillory, if lie could catch him ; and bring Meed into liis presence. Dread, who stood at the door, heaid this doom, went nimbly to Falseness, and bade him and liis fellows flee for fear. Falseness fled then to the friai-s ; antl Guile was luu'rying ofl", when the A Physician. From the Statues outside thu Cloister of Majdalenc College, O-iford. Merchants met him and kept him and took him into theii- shops, where he was dressed as an apprentice ^ Provisors were persons whom the Pope nominated to livings that were not yet vacant. and displayed their wares. Liar leapt off" and found no friends till the Pardoners took pity on him, brought him into their house, washed him and clothed him, and sent him on Sundays into the churches to sell pardons by the pound. Then the physicians were displeased, and wiote for Liar's help as an examiner of watei-s. Spicers sought aid from his cunning in gums. Minstrels met with him and kept him by them half a year and eleven days. But the Friars by smooth words got him amongst themselves. He may go abroad in the world as much as he pleases, but is sure always of a welcome home when he returns to them. Simony and Civil Law appealed to Eonie for grace. But Conscience accused both to the King, and told him that if the clergy did not amend, their covetousness would pervert his kingdom and harm Holy-Church for ever. So they all fled for fear, except the maiden INIeed, who trembled, wept, and wrung her hands at finding herself prisoner. The King bade a clerk take charge of her and make her at ease. He would him- self ask her whom she chose to wed, and if she •answered wisely lie would forgive all her misdeeds. The clerk took her courteously into a bower of bliss, and sat down by her. There was mirth and min- strelsy for her pleasure, and many woi'shipped her who came to Westminster. Justices made haste to the bower of this bride, and, by the clerk's leave, comforted her, bidding her not mourn, for they would manage the King and shape a way for her to go whither she would, iu spite of all that Conscience could do. Meed thanked them mildly, gave them Suitors to Meed. From a Brass at St. Margaret's, King's Lynn, A.D. 1364. gold and silver cups, rubies and treasure. When these were gone there came the clerks bidding her be blithe, for they were her own to work her will while their li^■es lasted. Meed promised her love to them, said she would make them lords and Imy them benefices, to have plurality, and those she loved should be advanced where the most able limped behind. Then came to her a Confessor coped as a Friar, and 84 CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [a.d. 1362 offered, whatever her sins might be, to absolve her for a load of wlieat, to hohl by her himself and put down Conscience, if she liked, among kings, knights, and clergy. Then Meed knelt to be shriven by him, tohl liim a shameless tale, and gave him a noble that he might be her bedesman, and might do her bidding among knights and clerks to thwart Conscience. He absolved her at once and said, " We ha^-e a window in hand that will stand us iir a good sum : if you will glaze the gable and set your name in it, we shall sing for Meed solemnly at msiss and at matins as for a sister of our order." Meed laughed and said, " Friar, I shall be your friend, and never fail you as long as you aid lords and ladies in their worldly delights and do not rebuke them. Do that, and I will roof your church and build your cloister, and both windows and walls I will so mend and glaze and paint and portray, that every man may see I am a sister of your order." But, says the poet here in his own person — "Ac' God tj all good folk such graving defendeth," To writen in windows of any well-deeds. Lest pride be painted there, and pomp of the world. For God knoweth thy conscience and thy kind will, Thy cost and their covetise, and who the eatel ought ^ For thy lief Lordes love, leaveth such writings, God in the Gospel such graving not alloweth, Ncsciat siitistra quid facial di-xtera. Let not thy left half, Our Lord teacheth, Ywif* what thou dealest with thy right .side." Meed then pleaded with may ore, sheriffs, and Serjeants against the putting in the pillory of bakers, brewers, butchere, cooks and othere, who build themselves high houses upon gains made by dishonesty in selling by retail. Against such wrongers of the people the poet, in his own pereon, speaks earnestly, but Meed advises the mayor to take bribes from them and let them cheat. To this the poet adds his reminder of Solomon's threat against those who receive such gifts. Fire shall devour their dwellings." Then the King called Meed before him, gently reproved her for following Guile and desiring to be wedded wthout his consent, but forgave her on con- dition of amendment. She must not again vex him and Truth, lest she be imprisoned in Corfe Castle or in a worse place. " I have a knight," said the King, " named Con- science, lately come from beyond the sea-s. If he be willing to wed you, will you have him?" " Yea, lord," said the Lady ; " Heaven forbid that I should not be wholly at your command." Then Conscience wa-s sunmioned to appear before the King and his Council. He knelt and bowed before the King, to know his will and what he was to do. " Wilt thou wed this maid, if I assent, for she is fain of thy fellowship, and to be thy mate?" ' Ac, tut. 2 Dcfendeth, forWddeth. 3 WJio itie catel ought, who owns the property, to whom the goods seized by the covetous really beloug. * Twit, know. * " For the con^egation of hypocrites shall be desolate, and fire 3haU consume the tabernacles of bribery." (Job xv. 34.) Quoth Conscience to the King, "Christ forbid! Woe betide me ere I wed such a wife. She is fraU of her faitli and tickle of her speech, and niaketh men misdo many score times. She misleads wives and widows. She and Falseness caused your father's'^ fall. She has poisoned Popes, she hurteth Holy-Church," and -^-ery many more of the great evils of the world were charged, in his reply to the King, liy Conscience against Meed. " Nay, lord," quoth that Lady, " the \vi-ong lies with him. Where mischief is greatest, Meed can help. Thou, Conscience, well knowest that thou hast hung on my neck eleven times for gold to give as thee liked. Even now I might make thee more of a man than thou knowest. Thou hast defamed me foully here Ijefore the King. / never killed a king or counselled a king's death, but saved myself and sixty thousand lives here and in many laiuls. But thou hast slackened many a man's will to burn and destroy and beat down strength. Thou, Conscience, gavest wretched counsel to the King to leave his heritage of France in the enemy's hand.'^ A conquered king- dom or duchy is not to be parted with, when so many who fought to win it, and followed the king's will, ask their shares. The least lad in the king's service, when the land is won, looks after Lordship or other large meed, whereby he may live as a man for ever- more. That is the nature of a king who overcomes his enemies; thus to helj> all his host, or else to grant all that his men may win, for them to do their best with. Therefore I advise no king to admit Con- science to his counsels, if he wish to be a conqueror. Were I a crowned king. Conscience should never be my constable or marshal of my men when I must tight. Had I, Meed, been his marshal in France, I dare lay my life he would have been lord of the land in length and breadth, and the least brat of his blood a baron's peer. " Unkindly thou. Conscience, counselled'st him thence To let so his Lordship for a little money. It becometh for a king that shall keep a realm To give men meed that meekly him serveth. To ahens, to all men, to honour them with gifts ; Meed maketh him beloved, and for a man y-hold. Emperors and earls and all manner lords Through gifts have yeomen to run and to lide ; The Pope and all prelates presents underfongen' And give meed to men to maintain their laws ; Serjeants for their serWce meed they ask And take meed of their masters as they may accord ; Beggars and bedesmen crave meed for their prayers ; Minstrels for their minstrelsy, a meed thev ask "; Jlasters that teach clerks crave for their meed ; ' Priests that preach and the people teach Ask meed and mass-pence and their meat both ; « Edward II.'s. ' \l\^ Treaty of Bretis-iiy, May 8th, 1360, Edward III -who. ir. the w. hdrawal or retreat of his famiue-striken am.y from Paris, had tZ Z '" ''l\^°"^f'='"^<' I'y ^ .?^eat thuuderstonn, and vowed n ^LmJstsfn ,"■'"'" '" *''" ^■■^'^'^ *''™"«=- -«^'''-<"i -11 tis Poufht,, f ?r =""^ ^"'^'"'^ <"^«'-""" P™to"- Guieune, and three r." " ' "" *''' ''''""' ^'"" "^ ^"'"<=« '<>' » ""^0- of tnree million crowns. 8 Vnderfoiifien, receive. TO i.D. 1400.1 RELIGION. 85 All k\Tie crafty men crave meed for their apprentices, Jlerchandise and meed must needs go together Is no lede' that liveth that he ne loveth meed, And glad for to gripe her, great lord or poor.'' Then quoth the King to Conscience, " Meed deserves mastery." But, " Nay," quoth Conscience to the King, " clerks know the truth, thiit ]\Ieed is ever- more a maintainer of Guile, as the Psalter sheweth. There is besides Meed, Mercede, which is the just hire for work done, but men give meed many a time ■where there is nothing earned. Payment for work done is mercede, not meed. There is no meed in merchandise, that is but exchange of a penny for a pennyworth ; and if the King give lordship to his liegeman, he does that for love, and may revoke the gift." Conscience discussed more fully the difference between Mercede and Meed who lirought Absalom to hanging, and who caused Saul's kingdom to pass from liiui. " The speaker of truth," said Conscience, " is now blamed ; but I, Con.science, know this, that Reason shall reign and Agag .shall suffer. Saul shall be blamed and David diademed ; and each of us shall be in the keejiing of a ChrLstian king. " Shall no Meed be master never more after, But love and lowness and loyalty together Shall be masters on mold,'- true men to help." Meed hinders the law by her large gifts, " But Kind Love shall come yet and Conscience together. And make of law a labourer, such love shall arise And such peace among the people ; and a perfect truth. That Jews shall ween in their wit and wax so glad That their King be ycomc from the court of heaven, Jloses or Jlessias, that men ben so true. For all that boareth baselards, ' bright sword, or lance. Axe or hatc'net, or any kynne weapon. Shall be doomed to the death but if he do it smithie'' Into sickle or into scrthe, to share or to coulter. Co)iJiabunt gladios .sues in vomt-rcs^ ct lanceas sf«rs in fulixa.^ Each man to play with a plough, a pickaxo, or a spade, Spinnen and speak of God, and spill no time." To more prophesy from Isaiah of the day when war shall cea.se on eai-th and God be truly kno^vn, Meed replied with half a text from the Proverbs of Solomon, and was confuted by the other half, with a comment that she was like the woman who justified doing as she pleased with the text, " Prove all things " at the bottom of a leaf, and omitted to turn over the page and read " Hold fast that which is good." After all this argument the King Inule Conscience kiss Meed. Conscience replied that he would rather die than do so, unless Reason counselled him. " Then," ' Is no leic, there is no man. First-Eut^lisb " leod." 2 On mold, on eartli. * Baselards were Ions da2per3 worn in the ^dle. It was with a baselard that Sir William Walworth stabbed Wat Tyler. The weapon WQs worn by ci\ilian3 in Richard II. 's time. * Bat if he do it smithie, unless he cause it to be forged. ' " They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks." (Isaiah ii. 4.) said the King, " ride away quickly, and fetch Reason. He shall rule my realm, and advise me concerning jMeed and other things, tell me to whom she is to be wedded, and take account with you, Conscience, as to your dealings with my people, learned and un- learned." Conscience then rode off gladly to Reason and gave the King's message. " ' I shall array me to ride," quoth Reason, ' rest thou awhile': — And called Cato his knave, courteous of speech. And also Tom True-Tongue-tell-mo-no-tales- Ne-leasings-to-laugh-of-for-I-loved-it-never, And set my saddle upon Suifcr-till-I-see-my-time Let warroke^ him well with Advise-thee-before, For it is the wone'' of Will t'o wince and to kick.'' Then Conscience and Reason rode together, talking of the mastery of Meed at court, ^yaryll Wiseman and his fellow Wilyman were fain to follow that they might take counsel of Reason for record before the King and Conscience in case they had a plaint against Wilyman and Wittiman and Waryn Wringlaw. But Conscience knew them well, and said to Reason, " Hither come servants of Covetise. Ride forth. Sir Reason, and reck not of their tales ; for they will abide where wrath and wrangling is, but love and loyalty are not after then- hearts. They wU do more for a dinner or a dozen capons than for our Lord's love. Then Reason rode forth, and did not look back till he met the King. Then came the King, says the poet, and gi'eeted Sir Reason courteously, and set him between himself and his son. When the poem was begun, in 1.362 or 13G3, Edward III.'s son and heir, the Black Prince, still lived, and the imajre of the sovereign enthroning Reason between himself and his heir was, of coui-se, not altered when change, caused by the death of the King's son, led to the covert reference to tjranny of John of Gaunt and danger from Richard's youth, in the inserted fable about Ijelling the cat. To have then written in this part of the jwem gi-andson for son would have implied a direct identifying of the King in the allegory with the King of England, which would have been equally bad in art and policy. The King, then, set Sir Reason between himself and his son, and for a long while they spoke wise words together. Then came Peiice into parliament, and put up a bill showing all the \-iolent misdeeds of Wrong. " No women are safe from him, he takes my geese, my pigs, my grass. Because of his fellowsliip," said Peace, " I dare not carry silver to the feir upon St. Giles's do\vn. He is bold to borrow, bad to pay. He borrowed my horse Bayard, which never was returned or paid for. He maintains men to murder my sei-vants, breaks my barn-dooi-s, and carries ofl my wheat. Because of him, I scarcely ventui-e to look up." The King knew this to be true, for Conscience told him that Wrong was a wicked man who worked much woe. Then Wrong besought help of Wisdom, looked 6 Warroke, girth. First-English " wear " and " wearh," a knot. ' Wone, custom. 86 CASSELL'S LIBRARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. [A.D. 1362 to Men of Law, and offered them large pay for their lielp. " With your help," he said, " I should care little for Peace, though he complained for ever." Then Wisdom and Wit went together, and took Meed with them to win mercy. " Yet Peace put forth liis head, and his pan • bloody ; ' Without guilt, God wot. got I this scathe ; Conscience knoweth it well and all the true commons.' " Bkeaeino the Head of Peace. From tlie Capital to a Ciiistur of Columns iti Wdls Cathedral. Wiles and Wit went about to bribe the King, if they could ; but the King swore that Wrong should suffer, and eommaniled a constable to cast him in irons where he should not for seven years see feet or hands. A wise one said, " That is not best. Let him have bail if lie can make amends." Wit seconded this. Meed meekly sought mercy, ' ' And proffered Peace a present all of pure gold ; ' Have this, man, of me,' quoth she, ' to amend thy scathe ; For I will wage - for Wrong he will do so no more.' Piteously Peace then prayedc the King To have mercy on that man that many times grieved him — ' For he hath waged me well, as Wisdom him taught : Meed hath made mine amends ; I may no more aslcen. So all my claims ben quit, by so the King assent.' " The King answered that if Wrong escaped so lightly, be would laugh and be bolder. " He shall lie in the stocks so long as I live, unless Reason have ruth of Mm." Then some besought Reason to take pity on Wrong, proWded jNIeed were bail for him. Reason bade them not counsel him to pity — until lords and ladies all loved truth, Pernel locked up her iinery, spoilt ^ Pan, crown. Sweedish "panna," tlie skull, head. 2 Wage, enarage, be surety. children were chastised, the poor were clothed out of the luxury of the clergy, monks and friai-s kept to their strict rule, and learned men lived as they taught ; till the King's coimsel is all for the profit of the Commons; till liishops become bakers, brewei-s, tailors for all manner of men as they find need, and Saint James is sought not in pilgrimages to Gallicia, Init where the sick poor lie in their prison.s and their wretched homes ; till the Rome-runners carry no more of the King's silver over sea, coined or un- coined : and yet, he said, I will have no ruth upon Wrong, while Meed masters the pleadings. " Were I," said Reason, " a crowned king, never wrong that I knew of shoidd go unpunished if within my power, upon peril of my soul ; nor should it get my grace by any gift or glosing speech. By Mary of Heaven, I would do no mercy for Meed. For nullum nudum should be impunitum, and ntdliim boniim irremiine- ratum? Let your confessor. Sir King, construe thi-< into English, 'and if you work it out into deeds, Law may turn labourer and cast dung to the field, while Love shall lead thy land as thee lief liketh." Confessors coupled themselves together to translate this Latin. Meed winked at the lawyers that by subtle speech they miglit put down Reason, of whom all ju.st men said that he spoke truth, while Conscience and Kind- Wit courteously thanked him. Love made light of Meed and Loyalty less. Whoever wedded her, they said, would be betrayed. Meed mourned when she was scorned, and a sisour and a summoner led her away softly from the judgment-hall. A sherift'.s clerk proclaimed that she was to be taken into safe custody, but not imprisoned. The King then took counsel with Conscience and Reason, looked with anger on Meed, frowned on the Men of Law as hiuderers of truth, and declared that, if he reigned any while. Reason should reckon with them, and judge them as they deserved. .He would have loyalty for his law, and an end of jangling. His law should be administered V)y leal men, who were holy of their lives. Conscience said it would be hard to bring mattere to that without help of the Commons. Reason declared that all realms could be brought under his rule. "I would it were well about," said the King, " and, therefore. Reason, you shall not ride hence. I make thee my chief Chancellor in the E.xchequer and the Parliament, and Conscience shall be as the King's Judge in all the courts." "I assent," said Reason, " if thou thyself hear both sides between Lords and Commons, and send no avpersedeas, or seal no private letters with unfitting sufferance ; I assent, and I dare lay my life that Lo^■e will furnish you with more silver than all the Lombards." The King was commanding Conscience to discharge all his officers, and appoint those whom Reason loved, when William awoke from the fii-st dream of his Vision. ■ In the first form of the earlier part of the Vision the poet grieved when awake that he had not slept lietter and seen more, walked a furlong on over the Malvern Hills, sat down, babbled on his beads, and ^ No evil sLould go imijuaished, and no good uurewarded. TO A.D. 1400.] RELIGIOISr. 87 slept again. That when he began the poem he was ;it home on Malvern Hills may be inferred from his change in the manner of prefacing the second dream when in after yeais he recast his work. He went to slee|i on Malvern Hills, and awoke, he then said, to find himself li'sdng on Cornhill, Kit and he in a cot. He was clothed as an idler, and yet not much of an idler, for he wrote about such men as Eeason taught him. For as he came by Conscience he met Eeason, ill a hot harvest time when he had health and limbs lor labour but loved to fare well and do nothing but tlrink and sleep. Then he represents Reason asking him what work he did in the world ; and the lesson of Duty which allows no true man to be " a loller " is assocuited with those answers from Will, already referred to, which indicate what was his work in London. Reason then bade him begin at once a life that should be loyal to the soul. " Yea, and con- tinue," quoth Conscience. And to the kiik. Will says, he went to honour God, weeping and wailing for his sins, until he slept. These new incidents served as a natural mtroduc- tion to the second dream. In this there was again seen the field full of folk from end to end, and Eeason and Conscience, by whom he himself had just been counselled, were there among the stir of men. Eeason clothed as a Pope, with Conscience for cross-bearer, stood before the King, and before all the realm " Preached and proved that these pestilences Was for pure sin, to punish the people ; And the south-west wind on Saturday at eve Was pertehch ' for pride, and for no point else. Pines- and plum-trees were puffed to the earth In ensample to syggen ' us we should do better ; Beeches and broad oaks were blown to the ground And turned upward their tiiil in tokening of dread That deadly sin ere doomsday should foredo us all.' The south-west wind here spoken of blew, in pestilence time, on Saturday, the 15th of January, 1362 (new style), and among other things that it blew down was the spLre of Xoi-wdch Cathedi'al. The gale must have been fresh in the minds of the people when it was joined with the pestilence in Reason's warning to the jaeople to flee from the ^^■l■ath of God, and the allusion to it helps to determine the time when Lang- land began his poem. Reason, thus preaching, bade Wasters go work for their food and lose no time, prayed Pernel (Petronilla) to lock up her embroideiy, taught Thomas Stow to fetch liis wife out of disgrace, and warned Wat that his wife was to blame, for her head-gear was worth half a mark and his hood not a groat. He charged Bet to cut a bough or two and beat Betty her maid if she would not work, and merchants as they became rich not to withhold from their children due correc- tion ; for the wise man wrote '• Spare the rod and spoil the child." Then he prayed prelates and priests to prove in themselves their preaching to the people: ^ Pertdich, apertly, openly, nmnifestly. Latin *' apertus," open, * Piries, pear-trees. Latin " pyrus." ' Syggen, say to. First-En^lisli " secgan," to say. " Live ye as ye lereth ■* us, we shalleth lieve you the bettei'." And then he bade Religion hold her rule; for Gregory the Great had said that a monk out of ride is a tish out of water. •' For if heaven be on this earth or any ease for soul. It is in cloister or in school, by many skills * 1 find. For in cloister cometh no man to chide ne to fight, In school is love and lowness and liking to learn. As many day men tellcth, both monks and canons Han ride out of array, their nile evil y-hold, And pricked about on palfreys from places to manors, An heap of hounds at his [back] as he a lord were ; And but his knave kneel that shall his cup hold He looketh all louring and • Lurdane I ' ^ him caUeth. Little had lords ado to give land from their heirs To rehgious that han no ruth though it rain on their altars. In places where these persons be by themselves at ease Of the poor han they no pity, that is their pure charity." Then foUows a passage that, in the years next follow- ing the reign of Henry VIII., was looked upon by the reformer as giving to Langlaud's poem almost the dignity of prophecy. I give it without change of spelling : — "Ac 3ut shal come a k}-ng and confesse 30W aUe And bete 30W, as the byble telleth for brekyng of 30ure reule, And amende 30W monkes, moniales, and chanons. And put 30W to 3oure penaunce ad pristiniim station ire J And barons and here barnes blame 30W and reprove ; Mil in cun'ibus ^ hi in t-qnis : ipai obligati annt^ et etcidcrunt.^ Freres in here freitom'' shulle fynde that t^nne Bred withoute begg\-nge to lyue by euere after. And C'onstantjTi shal be here cook and couerer of here churche. For the Abbot of Engelande '" and the abbesse hys neee Shullen bane a knok on here crounes and incurable the wounde. Contrivit dominus baculum impiortim, virgam domi- naneiitm, plaga inmnabiti}^ Ac er that kyng come, as cronycles me tolde, Clerkus and holy chui-che shal be clothed newe." Reason went on in his sei-mon to counsel the King to love his Commons : — " ' For the comune ys the Kj-nges tresour. Conscience wot wel ; And also,' quath Eeson, 'ich rede'^ 30W riche And comuners to a-corden in aUe kynne treuthe. Let no kj-nne consail ne couetyse 30W depai'te • lerrtJi, teach. ' S'n'Js, reasons. e LurdMne, worthless fellow. Frencli " lourdin." ■ To go to your former state : be as you were at your foundation. 8 "Some trust in chariots and some in horses. . . . They are brought do*n and fallen." (Psalm xx. 7, 8.) 9 Hci-e/reif&ur, their convent. Here, their. 10 In an earlier version it was the "Abbot of Abingdon," who should have " a knock of a king." 11 " The Lord hath broken the staff of the wicked, and the sceptre of the rulers . . . with a continual sti-oke " (Isaiah liv. 5, 6). Langland's quotations are from the Vulgate, then in use. 12 Rcie^ counsel. 88 CASSKLL'S LIBEARY OF ENGLISH LITEKATURE. [a.d. 13C2 That on wit and on wil alli- 30uru wardes kurp. Lol in htucne an hy' was an holy comune Til Lucifir the lyoro leyuid- th;it hi,-m-selue "Were wittyour and woi-thioui- than he th;it was hns niaistcr. Hold 30W in vnito, and he that other wolde Ys eauBc of alle combraunee to cont'ounde a reame.' And siththen' he prcide the Tope haue pite of Holy- ehnrehe, And no ^-ue to graunte til good loue were Amoni; alle kynne kyngcs oner cristene puple. 'Comaunde that alle eonfessours that eny kynge shvyueth, Enio\"ne hem j)ees for here penaunce and perpetual for3euenei*se Of alle manere aeciouns, and eche man loue other. And 3e that seeheth Seint lame and seyntes of Rome, Secheth seinte Treuthe in siiuaeion of 3oure saules: Qui cum piihf I'l Jiliu that fain- hem by-faUe Thiit suweth^ m\' Kinuon.' And thus ended Reason." Wlien Reason Lad done preaching, Repentance went among the throng, and made Will weep and Pernel Prondheart stretch lierself Hat on the earth. It was long ere she looked np and cried npon the Lord for mercy. Pernel |iersonifying Pride, with her Ijegan the repentant confessions of the Seven Deadly Sins, which classify homely suggestions of the evil that is in the world. After Pride came Envy to con- fession, after En\'y Wrath, dweller with men who delight in harming one another. Prelates and friara are at war, and .so Wnith keeps them in dispute. One of Wrath's aunts is a nun, another an abbess ; he has been cook in their kitchen and made their pottage of jangles. The sistei's sit and dispute initil " Thou liest ! " and "Thou liest I " be lady over them all. Wrath sits in the wives' pews. " The parson knows how little I lo^e Lettice at the Stile, my heart was changed towards her from the time when she was before me at sacrament to take the holy bread. I don't care to live among monks, for they eat more fish than flesh, and drink weak ale ; but otherwhile when wme cometh and when I drink late I have a flux of a foul mouth well tive days after." " Now repent thee !" quoth Repentance, ''and be sober; "and absolved him, and bade him i)ray to God by His help to amend. Luxury next came to confession and repentance ; then Avarice in a torn tabard of twelve years old, who was once apprentice to Sim at the StUe,-' where he learned to lie and to use false weights. He went with his master's gooils to the fair at Winchester or Weyliill, and his wares would have gone unsold for seven years had Guile not heljied hinr. A\arice told of tricks of trade learnt from the drapers ; how his \vife, Rose the Regrater, wo^ e, and paid the .spinsters by false weight for their work uiwn the wool ; how 1 .fin hy, on high. * Leinud, helieved. 3 SitWien, after that. * Thai su\ceth, that follow, or act according to. French ** suivre." 5 Sim at the StUe. In another version he is " Sim atte noke," equivalent to " atteu oke," at the oak : here use happens to be made of the answerini^ phrase for a hypothetical dweUing-place " at the stile." Both forms remain in the phrase "Jack Nokes and Tom Stiles." See. just before. " Letfice at the Stile." she was brewster too, and played tricks with her ales. "Didst thou never make restitution f quoth Re- pentance. " Yes," said Avarice ; " I w;is lodged once with a company of chajtmen, and when they were asleep, I got up and rifled their bags." " That was a rueful restitution," quoth Repent- ance, "forsooth. Thou wilt hang high for it, here or in hell. Usedst thou ever usury in all thy lifetime V " Nay, oidy in my youth, when I learned among the Lombards to clii> coin, and took pledges of more worth than the money lent. I lent to those who would lose their money ; they bought time. I have lent to lords and ladies that loved me never after. I have made a knight of many a mercer." " By the rood," said Repentance, " thine heLrs shall have no joy in the silver thou leavest. The Pope and all his pardonere cannot absolve thee of thy sins unless thou make restitution." " I won my goods," Avarice went on, " by false words and false devices. I am rich through Guile and Glosing. If my neighbour had anything more profitable than mine, I used all my wit to find how I might have it. And if it could be had no other way, at last I stole it, or shook liis purse privily, unpicked his locks. And if I went to the plough, I j)inched on his half acre, so that I got a foot of land or a furrow of my neighbour's eai-th ; and if I reaped, I bade my reaper's put their sickle into that I never sowed. On holy days when I went to church, I mourned not for my sins, but for any worldly good that I had lost. Though I did deadly sin, it less troubled me than money lent and lost, or long in being paid. And if a servant was at Bniges to await my profit and trade with my money, neither matins nor mass, nor penance performed, nor pater- noster said, could comfort the mind that was more in my goods than in God's grace and His great might." "Now," quoth Repentance, "ti-uly I "have ruth of your way of li\-ing. Were I a fiiar, "in good faith, for all the gold on earth, I would not clothe me or take a meal's meat of thy goods, if my heart knew thee to be as thou sayest. I would rather live on water-cresses than be fed and kept on false men's ^\-iintings. Thou art an unnatural creature. I cannot absolve thee until thou have made, according to thy might, to all men restitution. All that have of tliy goods are bound at the high day of doom to help thee to restore. The priest that takes thy tithe shall take his part with thee in purgatoiy and help pay thy debt, if he knew thee to be a thief when he received thine oSering." Then there was a Welshman named Evan Yield- agam, who said in great sorrow that though he were left without livehhood, he would restore to every one, before he went thence, all that he had won from lum wickedly. Robert the Rifler looked on Medchfe " and wept sorely, because he had not wherewith to make restitution ; and he prayed with tears to Chi-ist, who pitied Dismas his brother, « BtddiU, Eestore ! Seddere, to restore. TO A.D. 1400. RELIGION. 89 the repentant tliief upon the cross, to rue on ]iim, Robert, who had not Beddere, and never hoped to come by it tlirough any craft he knew. " By the rood," said Repentance, " thou art on the way to heaven if that be in thy heart which I hear upon thy tongue — " ' Trust in his mochel mercy and 3et might thou be saved. For all the \\Tetchedness of this world, and wicked deeds, Fareth as a fork of fire that fell emid Temese And died for a drop of water ; so doth all sins Of all manner men that with good will Couf essen hem and crien mercy : shullen never come in heU.' Omnia iniquitds fjiiond miserkordiam dei est quasi »eiiifilla in medio maris?- ' Repent thee anon ! ' quoth Repentance, right so to the usurer, ' And have His Mercy in mind.' '' After Avaiice came Ghittony in like manner to Repentance, and confessed his e\"il ways. On his way to church on a Friday fiist-Ll]ed tooth-