Chapter III: Introduction (1)

In the world of politics and statecraft a nation which has once begun to decline seldom, perhaps never, recovers itself. There are too many other dogs about for the bone which has once been relinquished to be resumed later on. It is luck, indeed, if there are any decent scraps to be found on the platter when it is revisited. In the world of literature and thought the dogs are better bred, showing each other new hunting-grounds, and by example and precept often helping to restore a famished comrade to sleekness and vigour. Political conditions may not be gainsaid. A nation which has once lost its ideals cannot again produce a fresh, strong, and manly literature. But the possibilities of literature remain immense, and we cannot foretell in what country it may not revive and win fresh triumphs. Hence it is that while the political fortunes of a nation seem to move mainly along the three straight lines of ascent, enjoyment, and fall, its literary fortunes express themselves, when we try to generalise, in a series of curves, alternate rises and declines, which may be repeated again and again. In English literature out of the unknown past rose the Anglo-Saxon lyric and epic, _Deor's Complaint_, _Beowulf_, and the poems of Caedmon and Cynewulf. From the death-like sleep of our language which followed the Norman Conquest rose the heights of thirteenth-century romance. From the dull poetic pedantries of the age which succeeded Chaucer rose the glittering pinnacles of Shakespeare and his fellows. From the coldness and shallowness of the eighteenth century rose the rich and varied tableland of whose occupants Burns was one of the first and Tennyson and Browning perhaps the last. No other literature has shown such recuperative power, a thought full of hope and consolation in these days, for those who can take pleasure in the anticipated joys of their great-grandchildren.

If this philosophising be thought dull, we have only repaid popular estimates in their own coin; for these sweeping generalisations, which condemn whole centuries as periods of depression, have been largely made for us by popular opinion, and like all generalisations, they have to be very considerably whittled down as soon as we descend to particulars. On a nearer view we find that the curves of literary progress have not been rolled smooth by any steamroller, but that the great chain of hills is connected by numberless ridges, some of which are already rising, long ere others have touched the plain. A pleasant book by an American professor (the _History of Romanticism in the Eighteenth Century_, by Henry A. Beers) has helped to draw attention to many of these rising ridges of romance in the century which most people connect only with the name of Pope; and I hope in these few pages to show that the fifteenth century, of which we are so contemptuous, was at least not all flat country.

For the poor esteem into which this period has fallen we must lay some of the blame at the door of the literary historians who have, until recent days, placed the English Mandeville nearly half a century too early, postponed the consideration of the dramatic productions till they reached the middle of the sixteenth century, when they gave a meagre summary of 'earlier attempts,' and chronicled the industry of translators, which had been in full swing ever since about 1380, as a special feature of the sixteenth century, helping thus to account for the great Elizabethan outburst of original work. No poor period of literature was ever more mercilessly or wantonly plundered to enrich its prosperous neighbours on either side; and having thus credited to other generations all its little claims to distinction, our literary historians fixed their glance sternly on the court poetry, which is its weakest feature, and made the case of Hoccleve and Lydgate more pitiful than it need be by cruelly comparing them with Chaucer. To be inconvenient to historians is not perhaps of itself a mark of greatness, but Chaucer's professed lovers may take pleasure in observing how largely he shares this characteristic with Shakespeare himself. To give each of them a separate chapter is but a respectful subterfuge, thinly concealing how unconscionably these two sudden elevations interfere with that orderly progression which the historian loves. It would be much easier to tell the story of the Elizabethan-Jacobean drama from rise to fall if Shakespeare could be left out of it; and if there had been no Chaucer, how gentle, how almost mathematical, would have been the progression from the _Cursor Mundi_ and the _Handlyng Synne_ to Gower's _Confessio Amantis_, from Gower to Lydgate and Hoccleve, and from Lydgate and Hoccleve to Stephen Hawes! The Italian influence would have come in for the first time with Surrey and Wyatt, and the whole sequence would have been just what a plain man would expect. Not only by his inconvenient possession of genius, but also by his great, if fitful industry, and by what we can hardly call by any name but good luck, Chaucer shoots up suddenly between Gower and his natural successors, and thus revolutionises the standard of poetry by which the next century is inevitably judged. The effect of his sudden uprising is almost as confusing to our judgments of his own poetry as of that of his unhappy 'successors.' Brought up, as most of us poor middle-aged critics have been, on textbooks which grudgingly devoted a scanty thirty or forty pages to all that happened ere Surrey and Wyatt began to write an English which literary historians could read without taking any trouble, we inevitably got it into our heads that with Chaucer we were at the very beginning; that he was really, as he was called, the Father of English Poetry, and represented the first blossoming of its spring. The spring had come and was fast fading when Chaucer began to write. It had come with the first blossoming of the romances, and with such lyrics as

'Lenten[1] is come with love to town,
With blossoms and with birdes rown';[2]

or as

'Blow, northern wind,
Send thou me my sweeting';

of which the lightness and spontaneity are represented in only a few snatches in Chaucer. Other touches of the spring he has, for no man better loved the merry month of May, and he has sung it until he has become for ever identified with it in our minds. All the same, he represents also a reaction which sees the humorous side of the lover's springtide longings, and views all things very much as they are, without illusion. Fortunately, in Chaucer's case this prosaic mood was raised and transfigured by the revelation of Italian poetry, which enabled him to give us in _Troilus and Cressida_, and the knight's tale of _Palamon and Arcite_, the most perfect harmony of humour and romance English narrative poetry has produced. No other poet of his time came under the same influences, and to this fact, as well as to his possession of genius, he owes his unique position.

That the worthy Lydgate and Hoccleve, without any of Chaucer's good luck, failed to tread in his footsteps, is thus hardly surprising. They took from him as much of his machinery as they could carry, wrote in his metres with the aid of ears sadly confused by the rapidly weakening pronunciation of final _-e_ and _-es_, and began the attempt, pursued all through the century, to make up by magniloquence what they lacked in poetry. This attempt was not confined to England. In France also there was the same invasion of long words, and it took our fair neighbour much longer to get rid of them. As the fifteenth century progressed and its successor began, it became more and more the object of the poetaster to end his lines with sounding polysyllables, and verse not written in this style was regarded as uncourtly and undignified. When we once realise that this particular experiment in language was one which had to be made, and that our fifteenth-century poets made it with all their might, we can understand how Hawes could hail Lydgate as 'the most dulcet spring of famous rhetoric' (this new poetry being essentially rhetorical); how Skelton, after condescendingly praising Chaucer for the 'pleasant, easy and plain' terms in which he wrote, hastened to explain that Lydgate's efforts were 'after a higher rate'; and how the same Skelton thought it necessary in his _Phylyp Sparowe_ to make his 'young maid' excuse herself for her ignorance of 'polished terms' and 'English words elect.' Every one in these days was searching anxiously for the right word, which is indeed the most proper object of every versifier's search. Unluckily, they only looked for it among polysyllables.

It will be gathered by this time that I hold no brief for what we must call the court poetry of the fifteenth century, that is to say, the compositions by which poets from Lydgate to Skelton sought to ingratiate themselves with noble patrons and to prove their title to immortality. When they were off their guard they wrote much better. The reminiscences of the gay days of his youth stirred Hoccleve's muse to unwonted vivacity. In the _London Lick-penny_ Lydgate, if Lydgate's it be, wrote humorous satire with success. Skelton himself, though in his (much too respectfully spoken of) play _Magnificence_ he could flounder with the worst of his predecessors, in his light and railing rhymes was nimble enough, and ranged easily from vigorous invective of Wolsey to pretty panegyrics of fair ladies. Now and again also these good souls ceased their search for polysyllables, looked at some fair face or pleasant landscape, and came near to a natural description. Now and again, too, when they were on their knees (it is only in prayers intended for other people that long words seem appropriate), they got down to a phrase of simple beauty. And meanwhile in the country in general, we may be sure, many simple rhymesters were keeping up old traditions; and if some diligent student would begin gleaning from the earlier miscellanies with the industry and insight by which Mr. A.H. Bullen extracted so rich a harvest from the Elizabethan song-books, surely he also would not go unrewarded. That the touch which we find in the religious poems of an earlier date in the Vernon MS. had not been wholly lost is witnessed by some favourite lines of mine from a book called _Speculum Christiani_, printed by Machlinia about 1485, and sometimes attributed to John Wotton--

'Mary mother, well thou be!
Mary mother, think on me;
Maiden and mother was never none
Together, Lady, save thee alone.
Sweet Lady, maiden clean,
Shield me from ill, shame and teen;
Out of sin, Lady, shield thou me.
And out of debt for charity.
Lady, for thy joyes five,
Get me grace in this live,
To know and keep over all thing,
Christian faith and God's bidding.
And truely win all that I need
To me and mine clothe and feed.
Help me, Lady, and all mine;
Shield me, Lady, from hell pine;
Shield me, Lady, from villainy
And from all wicked company.'

By the side of this religious verse is there any need to quote more than a stanza from the _Nut Brown Maid_ just to remind us what the secular poets could do?

'Be it right or wrong, these men among, on women do complain,
Affirming this, how that it is a labour spent in vain
To love them well; for never a del they love a man again;
For let a man do what he can their favour to attain,
Yet if a new to them pursue their first true lover than
Laboureth for nought and from her thought he is a banished man.'

To say that English poetry was dead when verse like this was being written is absurd. It was not dead, but banished from court.

We may well grumble at the mischance which has preserved to us such quantities of the verse of men like Lydgate and Hawes, with which, despite all the blandishments of their editors, a not unwise world refuses to concern itself, and on the other hand has permitted to perish, or scattered seemingly beyond retrieving, the humbler poetry which has much greater worth. In the Robin Hood Ballads which Professor Arber has printed from an edition by Wynkyn de Worde we have at least one piece of salvage. It must be owned, indeed, that to claim a ballad as the product of any one century is rather rash, and that in some form or another this cycle was probably in existence before Chaucer died. The 'Ballad of Otterburn,' again, is founded on an incident of border war which took place in 1388 when Chaucer had just begun work on the _Canterbury Tales_, and this also belongs to fourteenth-century tradition. But both the one and the other, and still more certainly 'Chevy Chace,' must be reckoned in their present form to the credit of our period, and form a notable reinforcement to it, though we must regret that the early transcribers and printers took so little trouble to preserve a correct text.

Christmas carols again, as likely to be handed down from mouth to mouth in the same way as ballads, can be assigned neither to any single author nor to any precise year or even decade of composition. But the charming examples which I have picked out from a number transcribed by Professor Fluegel from a Balliol College manuscript of the middle of the sixteenth century, may all safely be attributed to a date earlier than 1500, though perhaps not very much earlier, and in their simple tenderness and mirth they are in strong contrast to the pretentious poetry of the court.[3]

As with the ballads and carols, so with miracle-plays: the fact that they were handed down from one generation to another, and in each generation revised, altered, and added to, makes assignment of dates almost impossible. The play of the Shearmen and Tailors from the Coventry Gilds cycle,[4] here printed, survived in a transcript dated 1534, and it is probable that it was then copied out for the sake of combining what must originally have been four or five different plays into one. Some of these plays in their separate form may have been first written in the fourteenth century; they appear to have been added to in the fifteenth, and (as we have seen) assumed their final form in the sixteenth. The whole of the pseudo-Coventry cycle,[5] in like manner, seems to have been revised and largely written when it was last transcribed in 1468. But the supreme example of fifteenth-century addition to an older cycle is that of the Wakefield Plays, which early in the century were taken in hand by a dramatist of extraordinary ability, whose traceable contributions amount to over three thousand lines, distributed among at least six, or quite probably as many as nine different plays, of which five are homogeneous and entirely from his hand. Among these five are the well-known _Prima_ and _Secunda Pastorum_, the two Shepherds' Plays with which the history of English comedy begins. The humours of the two shepherds who meet on the moor and come to blows over the grazing of an imaginary flock of sheep are good; the humours of the Secunda Pastorum, of Mak the sheep-stealer, his clever wife Gyll, the sheep that was passed off as a baby, and Mak's well-deserved blanketing,--these surely are not only good, but as good, of their kind, as they well can be. That I have not printed this second Shepherds' Play here is due partly to its being easily accessible in the Early English Text Society's edition, but chiefly to the serious obstacles its northern dialect presents to any attempt at transcribing it in modern English. The play of the Shearmen and Tailors of Coventry, on the other hand, as I have noted in my preface, cries aloud for such transcription. The fact, moreover, that in its present conglomerate condition, it gives the whole history of the Divine Infancy from the Annunciation to the Flight into Egypt makes it very representative, even the humour of the Miracle Plays being exemplified, though poorly and incongruously, in the attack of the mothers of the Innocents on Herod's knights. The different sections of the play, the work no doubt of different authors, have varying values, that of the Prophets, never very successfully handled, being much the weakest. On the other hand, in the simple gifts of the shepherds to the Holy Child we have a very fair representation of one of the stock incidents of a Nativity Play in which free scope was given to whatever tender and playful fancy the dramatist possessed. It should be said that during the fifteenth century the popularity of these plays increased enormously, records of their performance being found in all parts of England, including Cornwall and Wales, where they were acted in the vernacular.

Starting not very much later than the Miracle Plays, since we hear of them at York in the middle of the fourteenth century, the Moralities also increased greatly in popularity during our period, offering ample opportunity for the allegorising and personifying tendency which was one of its most prominent, and in many respects most baneful, characteristics. Several plays of this kind of undoubted English origin have come down to us from the fifteenth century itself, and are well worth study. Chiefly because of the interest which has been aroused by its recent performance, I have preferred to give that of _The Summoning of Everyman_, which, while presenting much less variety than such plays as _The Castle of Perseverance_, or _Mind, Will, and Understanding_, has the merit of being in very easy English, short, impressive, and homogeneous. It is these latter merits, quite as much as the evidence which can be obtained by comparing the two texts, that offer the best reason for acquiescing in the verdict that the Dutch play of _Elckerlijk_, attributed to Petrus Dorlandus, a theological writer of Diest, who died in 1507, has a better claim than our English version to be considered the original. Strict adherence to propriety of form was not a characteristic of the dramatic literature of this period, and had the play been of native origin its uniform seriousness of tone would almost assuredly have been broken by some humorous, or semi-humorous, episodes. While the two plays, with the exception of the Prologue, which is not found in the Dutch, agree speech by speech from beginning to end, the English version is not a slavish translation; indeed, the ease and happiness of the diction, and the freedom with which it moves, give it, until the Dutch text is examined, the tone of an original work, and the translator must have been a man of no small ability to achieve such a success. It should be said that the oldest Dutch edition now extant appears to have been printed about 1495; but the play may have been written some years before this, though hardly as early as 'about 1477,' the date Professor Logeman proposes, if the author was only born in 1454, for it does not read like the work of a very young man. Professor Logeman was, perhaps, influenced in proposing this date by a desire to get in front of the critics of English literature (including ten Brink), who have assigned the English play to the reign of Edward IV., _i.e._ not later than 1483. As in the Miracle Plays, so in the Moralities, an original purely didactic purpose was gradually influenced by a desire to render the didacticism more palatable to a popular audience by the introduction of humorous incidents. The complete absence of these from _Everyman_ naturally caused critics to assign it the earliest possible date, so long as it was regarded as an original work. But there is nothing in the language which precludes it from having been written immediately after 1495, when we know that a Dutch edition was in print, and in judging it as a translation we may be content to assign it to the end of the fifteenth century. It is worth noting that at that date there must already have been considerable literary intercourse between England and Holland, and that several popular English books had already been printed at Antwerp for the English market.

It would have been pleasant to me, as a lover of these forerunners of the Elizabethan drama, to have advanced from the Miracle Play and Morality, and have given examples of the Moral-Interlude and Farce; but these belong emphatically to the sixteenth century, and come too near the drama itself for inclusion in a non-dramatic 'Garner.' But as a counterpart to Professor Arber's Trial of William Thorpe for Heresy, I have ventured to reprint here from the Transactions of the Bibliographical Society some pleadings in a theatrical lawsuit of the reign of Henry VIII., one of the many interesting discoveries published by Mr. Henry Plomer. Mr. Plomer's own interest in the pleadings, and the reason which made them suitable for publication by a Society in no wise concerned with the history of the drama, arose from the fact that the plaintiff in the case, John Rastell, besides being a lawyer and (it is believed) a writer of interludes, was also a printer, details of any kind that can be gleaned about the lives of early printers being always welcome to bookish antiquaries. But these particular details about Rastell's stage in his garden, the classes from which actors were drawn, the value of the dresses they wore, the practice of hiring the dresses out, and the rather puzzling distinction made between stage-plays and interludes,[6] are all of considerable interest for our period of the drama, and it seemed a good deed to give them wider publicity.

We pass now from a survey of its poetry, both non-dramatic and dramatic, to the work done in the fifteenth century for the development of English prose. Until quite towards the close of the fourteenth century England can hardly be said to have possessed any prose literature not avowedly or practically of a didactic character. To save some one's soul or to improve some one's morals were seemingly the only motives which could suffice to persuade an Englishman to write his native language except in verse. The impulse towards prose-writing may perhaps be dated from about 1380, the date of the first Wyclifite translation of the Bible. Of this the books of the Old Testament, as far as Daniel, are stated on contemporary authority to have been rendered by Nicholas Hereford; while historians, after salving their conscience by confessing that there is substantially no evidence for attributing the rest of the work to Wyclif, wherever they have afterwards to mention it, invariably connect it with his name. A revised edition, usually assigned to Wyclif's friend, John Purvey, was completed a few years later. It was about 1380 that Chaucer was engaged in translating Boethius's _De Consolatione Philosophiae_, and not long afterwards Usk wrote his _Testament of Love_. The first really secular English book of any importance, the translation of Mandeville's _Travels_, which has come down to us in a Cotton manuscript, was probably made about the end of the century, and was quickly succeeded by two variant versions. John of Trevisa, an Oxford scholar, was the first to English an important historical work, and a book of popular science, the _Polychronicon_ of Higden and the _De Proprietatibus Rerum_ of Bartholomew.

It was necessarily by the free use of translation that an English secular prose literature had to be built up. All the standard works hitherto had been written in Latin, or in a few cases in French; and now that English had been recognised, alike at court, in the law-courts, and in the schools, as the natural language of the inhabitants of England, the first thing which had to be done was to provide Englishmen with the ordinary sources of information in their own language. The need for translation directed attention to its principles and canons, and two interesting little essays on the subject are here printed--the one from the preface, said to be by Purvey, to the second Wyclifite Bible, and the other from that prefixed by Trevisa to his translation of Higden's _Polychronicon_. I have particular pleasure in placing these two prefaces side by side, because, as far as I know, the really striking resemblances between them, in their grammatical remarks, in their survey of previous attempts at an English translation of the Bible, and in their attitude to such a translation, have never been pointed out. Without wishing to intrude myself into controversial matters on which no one is entitled to speak who has not made a special study of the subject, I would fain again draw attention to the fact that whereas we have a definite statement by Caxton[7] that the _Polychronicon_ 'was englisshed by one Trevisa, vicarye of barkley, which atte request of one Sir Thomas lord barkley translated the sayd book [which we have], _the byble_, and bartylmew _de proprietatibus rerum_ [which we have] out of latyn into englysshe,' in the case of Purvey his name was first mentioned in connection with Bible translation in 1729 by Daniel Waterton, who 'guessed' and 'pitched upon' him (Waterton's Works, vol. x. p. 361) as the author of the second version, partly on the ground of his general prominence as a Wyclifite, and also because of his ownership of a Bible in Trinity College, Dublin, which Waterland hoped would prove to be of that version. As it happens, the text, which is only that of the New Testament, is, apparently throughout, that of the earlier version, with some of the Prologues of the later version to separate books inserted. Inasmuch also as the manuscript was not completed till 1427 or later, its bearing on the question of the authorship of a translation, which had then been in circulation for some thirty years, does not appear to be very great. It was open to any one to combine the different parts of the two versions in any way he pleased, and that Purvey seems to have preferred the text of the earlier version and the prologues of the later hardly proves that the later version is due to him. If we must drag him in at all, it would be much more reasonable to assign to him the completion of Nicholas of Hereford's unfinished work.

Lightly arrived at as it was, Waterland's 'guess' was adopted by Forshall and Madden in their fine edition of the two versions published in 1850, and as buttressed up by them with what seems to me a very weak additional argument, has ever since been repeated as an established fact.[8] The readiness with which the conjecture was accepted can only be accounted for by the desire to make the work of translation centre at Lutterworth instead of, as I believe to have been the case, at Oxford. It seems to be considered that we shall be robbing Wyclif of his due unless the translations are connected with him as closely as possible. Burdened as he was in his last years with age and infirmities, it is surely enough if he inspired others to work at this great task; we need not insist that he must have written at least part of the first translation with his own hands, and that the second must have begun under his immediate eye. I would submit, indeed, that the tone of the second translator's reference to 'the English Bible late translated' (p. 195) is quite incompatible with any such theory. We know from the manuscript note in the Bodleian MS. that Nicholas of Hereford began the translation of the Old Testament; and when his work was interrupted by the necessity for flight, it is far more likely that it was taken up by some other of Wyclif's numerous disciples at Oxford rather than by the master himself, while the fact that it was the work of his disciples, urged no doubt by his wish, would amply account for such references as may be found to it under Wyclif's name. For the second translation, it seems to me that the tone of the reference already quoted, and the detailed account (see p. 194) which the translator gives of the method in which he went to work, compel us to seek an independent origin, and to look for some other translator less immediately under Wyclif's influence. The freedom with which the Bible admittedly circulated for many years, and the well-known allusion by Sir Thomas More to an English translation untouched by any taint of heresy, point also in the same direction. That the second version is really only a revision of the first can hardly be adduced as a strong argument on the other side. The ethics of literary acknowledgment were not appreciated in Trevisa's days, and I believe that a very similar relation can be found on comparison of what is known as the 'Vulgate' text of Mandeville with that of the Cotton manuscript, which the second translator appears to have used freely, though in this case without improving on it. At any rate, William Caxton seems a better authority than an eighteenth-century divine as to the authorship of a translation made only a few years before he was born. We know that Trevisa was what we may call a professional translator, well equipped for his task; and we find him in the preface to the _Polychronicon_ discussing the translation of the Bible in a strikingly similar spirit to that in which it is discussed in the Prologue to one of the translations which have come down to us. It is to be hoped that the subject may receive further investigation, and that without the importation of theological bias.

We meet with the name of John Purvey once more in one of the longest and most interesting of the pieces here printed, the Examination of William Thorpe before Archbishop Arundel, held at Saltwood Castle in Kent in 1407. 'I know none more covetous shrews,' said the Archbishop to Thorpe in his railing way, 'than ye are when that ye have a benefice. For, lo! I gave to John Purvey a benefice (that of West Hythe, which Purvey held for fourteen months from August 1401) but a mile out of this castle, and I heard more complaints about his covetousness for tithes and other misdoings than I did of all men that were advanced within my diocese.' 'Sir,' replied Thorpe, 'Sir, Purvey is neither with you now for the benefice ye gave him, nor holdeth he faithfully with the learning that he taught and writ beforetime; and thus he sheweth himself neither to be hot nor cold; and therefore he and his fellows may sore dread that if they turn not hastily to the way that they have forsaken, peradventure they be put out of the number of Christ's chosen people.'

The Archbishop's answer was to mutter threats against Purvey as a 'false harlot'; and so the Bible-translator, if such he were, was abused on both sides. The dialogue about him is a fair instance of the vividness with which Thorpe's account of his trial illustrates the fortunes of Wyclif's followers when they scattered before their persecutors without any leader to rally them. Thorpe was accused of holding all the chief tenets of Wyclif's which were condemned as contrary to the Church's order and teaching, and his answers, according to the account he gives of them, were at once bold and prudent. He seems, moreover, to have had a real gift as a reporter, and to have exercised it impartially enough, for not every Lollard would have put into his examiner's mouth that remarkably happy defence of taking a bagpipe on pilgrimage, which will be found on page 141. Thorpe, though he was sent back to prison, lived to write this account of his trial three-and-fifty years after it took place, but Sir John Oldcastle was burnt alive, despite all Prince Hal's efforts to win him to recant and save himself, and the short account of his trial, which follows that of Thorpe, has thus a more tragic interest.

The persecution of the Lollards was but an incident in the fifteenth century, little affecting its literature, though the burning of Oldcastle called forth a bad poem by Hoccleve. The wasteful wars in France, and the turmoil of the Roses, on the other hand, had a great and most disastrous influence. After Lydgate's death about 1447, Capgrave was our leading man of letters, and on his death in 1464 the post was left vacant, unless Master Bennet Burgh can be considered as having held it. The Paston Letters, which begin in 1422 and cover the rest of the century (till 1507), offer some consolation for the lack of more formal literature, but the lack is undeniable. Moreover, not only literature, but the bookish arts suffered terribly from this depression. The fine English illuminated manuscripts which at the beginning of the century had vied with those of France, ceased to be produced after about 1430 (the siege of Orleans was raised by Jeanne Darc in 1429, and the synchronism may be significant), and with the illuminations, the simpler art of penmanship declined also. It was thus small wonder that the art of printing was introduced but tardily to our country, more than twenty years after the first printed Bible had appeared at Mainz, and that, typographically, William Caxton, with no fine models in contemporary English manuscripts to guide him, produced no single book that can stand comparison with the best work of foreign printers. But if he was a poor printer, he was a most enterprising and skilful publisher, and in his homely way a genuine and most prolific journeyman of letters. As the word journeyman is written, shame bids us strike out the first half of it, lest we seem to cast a slight upon one who did so excellent a work for English literature, whose enthusiasm was so genuine and whose industry so great. But Caxton was always modest for himself, and we shall serve him best by not putting his claims too high. When he commenced author there is an ingenuity in the way he mixes his constructions, which, though it may delight his lovers, compels some little caution in introducing him, haply, to new readers, whom such a paragraph as that which begins 'When I remember' on page 213 might easily affront. But he certainly improved his style by constant practice, and the handful of his prefaces and epilogues here printed do not lack literary charm, while the information they give of the man, his character, his enthusiasms, and his business can hardly fail to please any reasonably sympathetic reader. Take, for instance, these delightful confidences as to the fears and hopes attendant on his translation and publication of that bulky work, the _Golden Legend_ of Jacobus de Voragine, which might well daunt even an enterprising publisher:--

'And forasmuch as this said work was great and over chargeable to me to accomplish, I feared me in the beginning of the translation to have continued it, because of the long time of the translation and also in the imprinting of the same, and in manner half desperate to have accomplished it, was in purpose to have left it, after that I had begun to translate it, and to have laid it apart, ne had it been at the instance and request of the puissant, noble and virtuous Earl, my Lord William Earl of Arundel, which desired me to proceed and continue the said work, and promised me to take a reasonable quantity of them when they were achieved and accomplished, and sent to me a worshipful gentleman, a servant of his named John Stanney, which solicited me in my lord's name that I should in no wise leave it, but accomplish it, promising that my said lord should during his life give and grant to me a yearly fee, that is to wit a buck in summer and a doe in winter, with which fee I hold me well content. Then at the contemplation and reverence of my said lord I have endeavoured me to make an end and finish this said translation and also have imprinted it in the most best wise that I have, could or might, and present this said book to his good and noble lordship, as chief causer of the achieving of it, praying him to take it in gree of me William Caxton, his poor servant, and that it like him to remember my fee, and I shall pray unto Almighty God for his long life and welfare, and after this short and transitory life to come into everlasting joy in heaven, the which he send to him and to me and unto all them that shall read and hear this said book, that for the love and faith of whom all these holy saints hath suffered death and passion. Amen.'

Few publishers since Caxton's days have let us so far into their secrets, and we can but hope that his patron really took 'a reasonable quantity' of the edition (another was published in a few years, so he probably did), and that the bucks and the does furnished many jolly dinners. Elsewhere in these prefaces Caxton tells us how he was induced to take up the art of printing, narrates the trouble, in which he has had successors, in getting a good text of Chaucer's _Canterbury Tales_, pokes fun at English ladies and at another of his patrons, the Earl of Rivers, and sets down what is still one of the best criticisms ever penned of Malory's _King Arthur_. With the mention of that noble work it is well to finish this brief sketch of our fifteenth-century literature. It is too well known, too easily accessible, for any snippets to be quoted from it here. But with the English version of Mandeville at the beginning of our period, and Malory's _Arthur_ completed in 1469 and published in 1483, it is evident that we can lay claim to two masterpieces which have not yet lost their hold on modern readers. The simplicity and feeling of _Everyman_ has lately obtained recognition. I hope that, when boys and girls are taught a little more of their own language, the play of _Max the Sheepstealer_ may win even greater popularity, for it is an ideal play for children to act. If we throw in 'Chevy Chace' and the 'Nut Brown Maid' and the 'Robin Hood Ballads,' we shall not be lacking for poetry. For the interest which we now seek in a realistic novel we might well go to the Paston Letters. There are not a few nations of Europe which might be well pleased if they could show, century by century, as good a record as this. It is only in fact the ill-fortune which placed it midway between Chaucer and Shakespeare, and our own perversity which persists in associating it mainly with Lydgate and Hoccleve, that causes us to contemn this particular century as dull.

Footnotes:

[1] Spring.

[2] Whispering.

[3] Printed by him in 1894 in a 'Festschrift' in honour of Professor Hildebrand.

[4] To be carefully distinguished from the so-called Coventry Plays of Cotton MS., Vespasian, D. viii., whose highly doubtful connection with Coventry rests solely on a note of Cotton's librarian.

[5] It would be convenient if they could be called the Cotton Plays, as the Wakefield cycle has been called after the Towneley family.

[6] See p. 316. Stage-plays were acted in the summer, interludes in the winter, the cost of hiring dresses being apparently from three to five times as great for a stage-play as for an interlude. My own interpretation is that the distinction has nothing to do with the plays acted, but solely to the place of performance, interludes being acted indoors and stage-plays in the open air, where the dresses were exposed to greater damage.

[7] Prohemye to _Polychronicon_, _ad fin._

[8] The argument as I understand it runs as follows:--

(i) The author of the Prologue is the author of the Translation of the Bible (which may be granted, though not without the reservation that the helpers to whom allusion is made may have written sections of the Prologue, which would confuse any deductions).

(ii) The Prologue has verbal resemblances to the treatise designated _Ecclesiae Regimen_ (the instances quoted seem to me resemblances merely of topics, and these not uncommon ones).

(iii) The _Ecclesiae Regimen_ resembles Purvey's confession at his recantation in 1400 (the previous criticism applies here much more strongly).

Therefore the translation of the Bible is by the author of the _Ecclesiae Regimen_, and the author of this is Purvey. I must repeat that the chain seems to me lamentably weak, and that the resemblances which may be found between Section xv. of the Prologue and Trevisa's Dialogue and Letter to Lord Berkeley are stronger, because not arising out of quite such common topics. That they are only to a slight extent verbal resemblances is no drawback. We do not expect a man to repeat his own words exactly. What is interesting is to find two translators both interested in their own methods, and these methods similar.

JOHN LYDGATE (?).

_The Siege of Harfleur and the Battle of Agincourt_

1415.

Hereafter followeth the Battle of Agincourt and the great Siege of Rouen, by King HENRY of Monmouth, the Fifth of the name; that won Gascony, and Guienne, and Normandy.

[See Sir HARRIS NICOLAS'S _History of the Battle of Agincourt_, p. 301, 2nd Ed. 1832, 8vo.]

=J. Lydgate. Printed c. 1530.=

=THE DAUPHIN'S OFFER OF TENNIS BALLS.=

God, that all this world did make
And died for us upon a tree,
Save England, for MARY thy Mother's sake!
As Thou art steadfast GOD in Trinity.
And save King HENRY'S soul, I beseech thee!
That was full gracious and good withal;
A courteous Knight and King royal.
Of HENRY the Fifth, noble man of war,
Thy deeds may never forgotten be!
Of Knighthood thou wert the very Loadstar!
In thy time England flowered in prosperity,
Thou mortal Mirror of all Chivalry!
Though thou be not set among the Worthies Nine;
Yet wast thou a Conqueror in thy time!

Our King sent into France full rath,
His Herald that was good and sure.
He desired his heritage for to have:
That is Gascony and Guienne and Normandy.
He bade the Dolphin [_Dauphin_] deliver. It should be his:
All that belonged to the first EDWARD
"And if he say me, Nay!; iwis
I will get it with dint of sword!"
But then answered the Dolphin bold,
By our ambassadors sending again,
"Methinks that your King is not so old,
Wars great for to maintain.
Greet well," he said, "your comely King
That is both gentle and small;
A ton full of tennis balls I will him send,
For to play him therewithal."

Then bethought our Lords all,
In France they would no longer abide:
They took their leave both great and small,
And home to England gan they ride.
To our King they told their tale to the end;
What that the Dolphin did to them say.
"I will him thank," then said the King,
"By the grace of GOD, if I may!"
Yet, by his own mind, this Dolphin bold,
To our King he sent again hastily;
And prayed him truce for to hold,
For JESUS' love that died on a tree.

=KING HENRY WILL GO TO FRANCE.=

"Nay," then said our comely King,
"For into France will I wind!
The Dolphin anger I trust I shall:
And such a tennis ball I shall him send,
That shall bear down the high roof of his hall."

The King at Westminster lay that time,
And all his Lords everych one;
And they did set them down to dine:
"Lordings," he saith, "by St. John!
To France I think to take my way:
Of good counsel I you pray,
What is your will that I shall do?
Shew me shortly without delay!"
The Duke of CLARENCE answered soon,
And said, "My Liege, I counsel you so!"
And other Lords said, "We think it for the best
With you to be ready for to go;
Whiles that our lives may endure and last."

"Grammercy, Sirs!" the King gan say,
"Our right, I trust, then shall be won,
And I will 'quite you if I may:
Therefore I warn you, both old and young,
To make you ready without delay
To Southampton to take your way
At St. Peter's tide at Lammas;[9]
For by the grace of GOD, and if I may,
Over the salt sea I think to pass!"

Great ordnance of guns the King let make,
And shipped them at London all at once;
Bows and arrows in chests were take,
Spears and bills with iron gunstones,
And arming daggers made for the nonce:
With swords and bucklers that were full sure.
And harness bright that strokes would endure.

=THE ENGLISH ARRIVE IN NORMANDY.=

The King to Southampton then did ride
With his Lords; for no longer would he dwell.
Fifteen hundred fair ships there did him abide,
With good sails and top-castle.
Lords of France our King they sold
For a million of gold as I heard say.
By England little price they told,
Therefore their song was "Well a way!"

Between Hampton and the Isle of Wight,
These goodly ships lay there at road,
With mastyards across, full seemly of sight,
Over the haven spread abroad:
On every pavis [_target_] a cross red;
The waists decked with serpentines [_cannon_] strong.
St George's streamers spread overhead,
With the Arms of England hanging all along.

Our King fully hastily to his ship yede,
And all other Lords of every degree:
Every ship weighed his anchor in deed,
With the tide to haste them to the sea.
They hoisted their sails, sailed aloft:
A goodly sight it was to see.
The wind was good, and blew but soft:
And forth they went in the name of the Trinity.[10]

Their course they took toward Normandy,
And passed over in a day and a night.
So in the second morning early,
Of that country they had a sight:
And ever [as] they drew near the coast,
Of the day glad were they all;
And when they were at the shore almost,
Every ship his anchor let fall,
With their tackles they launched many a long boat
And over ha[t]ch threw them into the stream;
A thousand shortly they saw afloat.
With men of arms that light did leme.

=THE GUNS PLAY TENNIS WITH HARFLEUR.=

Our king landed at Cottaunses [_Coutances_] without delay,[11]
On our Lady's Even [of] the Assumption;[12]
And to Harflete [_Harfleur_] they took the way
And mustered fair before the town.
Our King his banner there did 'splay,
With standards bright and many [a] pennon:
And there he pitched his tent adown;
Full well broidered with armory gay.
First our comely King's tent with the crown,
And all other Lords in good array.

"My brother CLARENCE," the King did say,
"The towers of the town will I keep
With her daughters and her maidens gay,
To wake the Frenchmen of their sleep."
"'London'," he said, "shall with him meet;
And my guns that lieth fair upon the green;
For they shall play with Harflete
A game of tennis as I ween.
Go we to game, for God's grace!
My children be ready everych one."

For every great gun that there was,
In his mouth he had a stone.
The Captain of Harflete soon anon
Unto our King he sent hastily
To know what his will was to be done,
For to come thither with such a meiny?
"Deliver me the town!" the King said.
"Nay!" said the Captain, "by God and St DENIS!"
"Then shall I win it," said our King,
"By the grace of GOD and his goodness,
Some hard tennis balls I have hither brought
Of marble and iron made full round.
I swear, by JESU that me dear bought,
They shall beat the walls to the ground."

=KING HENRY GRANTS A TRUCE.=

Then said the great gun,
"Hold fellows, we go to game!"
Thanked be MARY and JESU her son,
They did the Frenchmen much shame.
"Fifteen afore," said "London" then;
Her balls full fair she gan outthrow.
"Thirty" said the second gun, "I will win and I may."
There as the wall was most sure,
They bare it down without nay.
The "King's Daughter" said "Hearken this play!
Hearken Maidens now this tide!
Five and forty we have, it is no nay."
They beat down the walls on every side.

The Normands said, "Let us not abide!
But go we in haste, by one assent!
Wheresoever the gunstones do glide,
Our houses in Harfleet are all to rent:
The Englishmen our bulwarks have brent"
And women cried, "Alas that ever they were born!"
The Frenchmen said, "Now be we shent!
By us now the town is forlorn:
It is best now therefore
That we beseech this English King of grace,
For to assail us no more;
Lest he destroy us in this place.
Then will we bid the Dolphin make him ready,
Or else this town delivered must be."

Messengers went forth by and bye,[13]
And to our King came they:
The Lord CORGRAUNT certainly,[14]
For he was Captain of the place,
And GELAM BOWSER with him did hie,
With other Lords more and less.
And when they to our King come where,
Full lowly set them on their knee:
"Hail, comely King!" gan they say
"CHRIST save thee from adversity!
Of truce we will beseech thee
Until that it be Sunday noon:[15]
And if we may not recovered be,
We will deliver the town."

=THE FRENCH SURRENDER HARFLEUR.=

Then said our King full soon,
"I grant you grace in this tide;
One of you shall forth anon,
And the remnant shall with me abide!"
Their Captain took his next way,
And to Rouen fast gan he ride.
The Dolphin he had thought there to find
But he was gone; he durst not abide.

For help the Captain besought that tide
"Harflete is lost for ever and aye;
The walls be beaten down on every side,
That we no longer keep it may."
Of counsel all he did them pray.
"What is your will that I may do?
We must ordain the King battle by Sunday,
Or else deliver him the town!"
The Lords of Rouen together did rown;
And bade the town should openly yield.
The King of England fareth as a lion:
We will not meet with him in the field!
The Captain would then no longer abide,
And towards Harflete came he right;
For so fast did he ride
That he was there the same night.

And when he to our King did come,[16]
Lowly he set him on his knee:
"Hail, comely Prince!" then did he say,
"The grace of GOD is with thee!
Here have I brought the keys all
Of Harflete that is so royal a city.
All is yours, both chamber and hall;
And at your will for to be."

=21,000 FRENCH SENT OUT OF HARFLEUR.=

"Thanked be JESU!" said our King,
"And MARY his mother truly!
My uncle DORSET, without letting,
Captain of Harflete shall he be.
And all that is within the city
Awhile yet they shall abide,
To amend the walls in every degree
That are beaten down on every side:
And after that, they shall out ride
To other towns over all.
Wife nor child shall not there abide:
But have them forth, both great and small!"
One and twenty thousand, men might see,
When they went out, full sore did weep.

The great guns and ordnance truly
Were brought into Harflete.

Great sickness among our host was, in good fay,
Which killed many of our Englishmen:
There died beyond seven score upon a day;
Alive there was left but thousands ten.

Our King himself into the Castle yede,
And rest him there as long as his will was:
At the last he said, "Lords, so God me speed!
Towards Calais I think to pass."

After that Harflete was gotten, that royal city,
Through the grace of GOD omnipotent;
Our comely King made him ready soon,
And towards Calais forth he went.
"My brother GLOUCESTER _veramente_
Here will we no longer abide!
And Cousin of YORK, this is our intent:
With us forth ye shall, this tide!
My Cousin HUNTINGDON with us shall ride;
And the Earl of OXENFORD with you three!
The Duke of SOUTHFOLK [_SUFFOLK_] by our side
He shall come forth with his meiny!
And the Earl of DEVONSHIRE sikerly!
Sir THOMAS HARPING[17] that never did fail;
The Lord BROKE that came heartily
And Sir JOHN of CORNWALL:
Sir GILBERT UMFREY[18] that would us avail;
And the Lord CLIFFORD, so GOD me speed!
Sir WILLIAM BOWSER[19], that will not fail;
For all they will help, if it be need."

=ENGLISHMEN TO BE SOLD SIX FOR A PENNY.=

Our King rode forth, blessed might he be![20]
He spared neither dale nor down;
By waters great fast rode he,
Till he came to the water of Seine.[21]