Chapter 4
[Footnote 12: _English Literature_, by Prof. Craik. Hannay's _Satires and Satirists_.]
[Footnote 13: _Life of Dryden_, by Sir Walter Scott. Saintsbury's _Life of Dryden_.]
[Footnote 14: Thackeray's _English Humorists_. Hannay's _Satires and Satirists_.]
[Footnote 15: _Satire and Satirists_, by James Hannay. Lecture III.]
[Footnote 16: Dowden's _French Literature_.]
[Footnote 17: Minto's _Characteristics of English Poets_.]
[Footnote 18: Cf. Saintsbury's _Life of Dryden_.]
[Footnote 19: Cf. Gosse, _Eighteenth Century Literature_.]
[Footnote 20: Thackeray's _English Humorists_.]
[Footnote 21: _The Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin_--Carisbrooke Library, 1890.]
[Footnote 22: _The Bæviad and the Mæviad_, by W. Gifford, Esq., 1800.]
ENGLISH SATIRES.
WILLIAM LANGLAND.
(1330?-1400?)
I. PILGRIMAGE IN SEARCH OF DO-WELL.
This opening satire constitutes the whole of the Eighth _Passus_ of _Piers Plowman's Vision_ and the First of Do-Wel. The "Dreamer" here sets off on a new pilgrimage in search of a person who has not appeared in the poem before--Do-Well. The following is the argument of the _Passus_.--"All Piers Plowman's inquiries after Do-Well are fruitless. Even the friars to whom he addresses himself give but a confused account; and weary with wandering about, the dreamer is again overtaken by slumber. Thought now appears to him, and recommends him to Wit, who describes to him the residence of Do-Well, Do-Bet, Do-Best, and enumerates their companions and attendants."
Thus y-robed in russet · romed I aboute Al in a somer seson · for to seke Do-wel; And frayned[23] full ofte · of folk that I mette If any wight wiste · wher Do-wel was at inne; And what man he myghte be · of many man I asked. Was nevere wight, as I wente · that me wisse kouthe[24] Where this leode lenged,[25] · lasse ne moore.[26] Til it bifel on a Friday · two freres I mette Maisters of the Menours[27] · men of grete witte. I hailsed them hendely,[28] · as I hadde y-lerned. And preède them par charité, · er thei passed ferther, If thei knew any contree · or costes as thei wente, "Where that Do-wel dwelleth · dooth me to witene". For thei be men of this moolde · that moost wide walken, And knowen contrees and courtes, · and many kynnes places, Bothe princes paleises · and povere mennes cotes,[29] And Do-wel and Do-yvele · where thei dwelle bothe. "Amonges us" quod the Menours, · "that man is dwellynge, And evere hath as I hope, · and evere shal herafter." "_Contra_", quod I as a clerc, · and comsed to disputen, And seide hem soothly, · "_Septies in die cadit justus_". "Sevene sithes,[30] seeth the book · synneth the rightfulle; And who so synneth," I seide, · "dooth yvele, as me thynketh; And Do-wel and Do-yvele · mowe noght dwelle togideres. Ergo he nis noght alway · among you freres: He is outher while ellis where · to wisse the peple." "I shal seye thee, my sone" · seide the frere thanne, "How seven sithes the sadde man, · on a day synneth; By a forbisne"[31] quod the frere, · "I shal thee faire showe. Lat brynge a man in a boot, · amydde the brode watre; The wynd and the water · and the boot waggyng, Maketh the man many a tyme · to falle and to stonde; For stonde he never so stif, · he stumbleth if he meve, Ac yet is he saaf and sound, · and so hym bihoveth; For if he ne arise the rather, · and raughte to the steere, The wynd wolde with the water · the boot over throwe; And thanne were his lif lost, · thorough lackesse of hymselve[32]. And thus it falleth," quod the frere, · "by folk here on erthe; The water is likned to the world · that wanyeth and wexeth; The goodes of this grounde arn like · to the grete wawes, That as wyndes and wedres · walketh aboute; The boot is likned to oure body · that brotel[33] is of kynde, That thorough the fend and the flesshe · and the frele worlde Synneth the sadde man · a day seven sithes. Ac[34] dedly synne doth he noght, · for Do-wel hym kepeth; And that is Charité the champion, · chief help ayein Synne; For he strengtheth men to stonde, · and steereth mannes soule, And though the body bowe · as boot dooth in the watre, Ay is thi soul saaf, · but if thou wole thiselve Do a deedly synne, · and drenche so thi soule, God wole suffre wel thi sleuthe[35] · if thiself liketh. For he yaf thee a yeres-gyve,[36] · to yeme[37] wel thiselve, And that is wit and free-wil, · to every wight a porcion, To fleynge foweles, · to fisshes and to beastes: Ac man hath moost thereof, · and moost is to blame, But if he werch wel therwith, · as Do-wel hym techeth." "I have no kynde knowyng,"[38] quod I, · "to conceyven alle your wordes: Ac if I may lyve and loke, · I shall go lerne bettre." "I bikenne thee Christ,"[39] quod he, · "that on cros deyde!" And I seide "the same · save you fro myschaunce, And gyve you grace on this grounde · goode men to worthe!"[40] And thus I wente wide wher · walkyng myn one,[41] By a wilderness, · and by a wodes side: Blisse of the briddes.[42] · Broughte me a-slepe, And under a lynde upon a launde[43] · lened I a stounde[44], To lythe the layes · the lovely foweles made, Murthe of hire mowthes · made me ther to slepe; The merveillouseste metels[45] · mette me[46] thanne That ever dremed wight · in worlde, as I wene. A muche man, as me thoughte · and like to myselve, Cam and called me · by my kynde name. "What artow," quod I tho, · "that thow my name knowest." "That woost wel," quod he, · "and no wight bettre." "Woot I what thou art?" · "Thought," seide he thanne; "I have sued[47] thee this seven yeer, · seye[48] thou me no rather."[49] "Artow Thought," quod I thoo, · "thow koudest me wisse, Where that Do-wel dwelleth, · and do me that to knowe." "Do-wel and Do-bet, · and Do-best the thridde," quod he, "Arn thre fair vertues, · and ben noght fer to fynde. Who so is trewe of his tunge, · and of his two handes, And thorugh his labour or thorugh his land, · his liflode wynneth,[50] And is trusty of his tailende, · taketh but his owene, And is noght dronklewe[51] ne dedeynous,[52] · Do-wel hym folweth. Do-bet dooth ryght thus; · ac he dooth much more; He is as lowe as a lomb, · and lovelich of speche, And helpeth alle men · after that hem nedeth. The bagges and the bigirdles, · he hath to-broke hem alle That the Erl Avarous · heeld and hise heires. And thus with Mammonaes moneie · he hath maad hym frendes, And is ronne to religion, · and hath rendred the Bible, And precheth to the peple · Seint Poules wordes: _Libenter suffertis insipientes, cum sitis ipsi sapientes_: 'And suffreth the unwise' · with you for to libbe And with glad will dooth hem good · and so God you hoteth. Do-best is above bothe, · and bereth a bisshopes crosse, Is hoked on that oon ende · to halie men fro helle; A pik is on that potente,[53] · to putte a-down the wikked That waiten any wikkednesse · Do-wel to tene.[54] And Do-wel and Do-bet · amonges hem han ordeyned, To crowne oon to be kyng · to rulen hem bothe; That if Do-wel or Do-bet · dide ayein Do-best, Thanne shal the kyng come · and casten hem in irens, And but if Do-best bede[55] for hem, · thei to be there for evere. Thus Do-wel and Do-bet, · and Do-best the thridde, Crouned oon to the kyng · to kepen hem alle, And to rule the reme · by hire thre wittes, And noon oother wise, · but as thei thre assented." I thonked Thoght tho, · that he me thus taughte. "Ac yet savoreth me noght thi seying. · I coveit to lerne How Do-wel, Do-bet, and Do-best · doon among the peple." "But Wit konne wisse thee," quod Thoght, · "Where tho thre dwelle, Ellis woot I noon that kan · that now is alyve." Thoght and I thus · thre daies we yeden,[56] Disputyng upon Do-wel · day after oother; And er we were war, · with Wit gonne we mete.[57] He was long and lene, · lik to noon other; Was no pride on his apparaille · ne poverte neither; Sad of his semblaunt, · and of softe chere, I dorste meve no matere · to maken hym to jangle, But as I bad Thoght thoo · be mene bitwene, And pute forth som purpos · to preven his wittes, What was Do-wel fro Do-bet, · and Do-best from hem bothe. Thanne Thoght in that tyme · seide these wordes: "Where Do-wel, Do-bet, · and Do-best ben in londe, Here is Wil wolde wite, · if Wit koude teche him; And whether he be man or woman · this man fayn wolde aspie, And werchen[58] as thei thre wolde, · thus is his entente"
[Footnote 23: questioned.]
[Footnote 24: could tell me.]
[Footnote 25: Where this man dwelt.]
[Footnote 26: mean or gentle.]
[Footnote 27: of the Minorite order.]
[Footnote 28: I saluted them courteously.]
[Footnote 29: and poor men's cots.]
[Footnote 30: times.]
[Footnote 31: example.]
[Footnote 32: through his own negligence.]
[Footnote 33: weak, unstable.]
[Footnote 34: But.]
[Footnote 35: sloth.]
[Footnote 36: a year's-gift.]
[Footnote 37: to rule, guide, govern.]
[Footnote 38: mother-wit.]
[Footnote 39: I commit thee to Christ.]
[Footnote 40: to become.]
[Footnote 41: by myself.]
[Footnote 42: The charm of the birds.]
[Footnote 43: under a linden-tree on a plain.]
[Footnote 44: a short time.]
[Footnote 45: a most wonderful dream.]
[Footnote 46: I dreamed.]
[Footnote 47: followed.]
[Footnote 48: sawest.]
[Footnote 49: sooner.]
[Footnote 50: gains his livelihood.]
[Footnote 51: drunken.]
[Footnote 52: disdainful.]
[Footnote 53: club staff.]
[Footnote 54: to injure.]
[Footnote 55: pray.]
[Footnote 56: journeyed.]
[Footnote 57: we met Wit.]
[Footnote 58: work.]
GEOFFREY CHAUCER.
(1340?-1400.)
PORTRAITS FROM THE CANTERBURY TALES.
II. AND III. THE MONK AND THE FRIAR.
The following complete portraits of two of the characters in Chaucer's matchless picture of the Canterbury Pilgrims are taken from the Prologue to the _Canterbury Tales_.
II.
A monk ther was, a fayre for the maistríe,[59] An outrider, that loved venerie;[60] A manly man, to ben an abbot able. Ful many a deintè[61] hors hadde he in stable: And whan he rode, men might his bridel here Gingeling in a whistling wind as clere, And eke as loude, as doth the chapell belle, Ther as this lord was keeper of the celle. The reule of Seint Maure and of Seint Beneit, Because that it was olde and somdele streit, This ilkè monk lette oldè thingès pace,[62] And held after the newè world the space. He yaf not of the text a pulled hen,[63] That saith, that hunters ben not holy men; Ne that a monk, whan he is reckèles,[64] Is like to a fish that is waterles; That is to say, a monk out of his cloistre. This ilkè text held he not worth an oistre. And I say his opinion was good. What? shulde he studie, and make himselven wood[65] Upon a book in cloistre alway to pore, Or swinken[66] with his hondès, and laboùre, As Austin bit?[67] how shal the world be served? Let Austin have his swink to him reserved. Therfore he was a prickasoure[68] a right: Greihoundes he hadde as swift as foul of flight: Of pricking[69] and of hunting for the hare Was all his lust, for no cost wolde he spare. I saw his sleves purfiled[70] at the hond With gris,[71] and that the finest of the lond. And for to fasten his hood under his chinne, He hadde of gold ywrought a curious pinne; A love-knotte in the greter end ther was. His hed was balled,[72] and shone as any glas, And eke his face, as it hadde ben anoint. He was a lord ful fat and in good point. His eyen stepe,[73] and rolling in his hed, That stemed as a forneis of led.[74] His bootès souple, his hors in gret estat: Now certainly he was a fayre prelát. He was not pale as a forpined[75] gost. A fat swan loved he best of any rost, His palfrey was as broune as is a bery.
III.
A Frere[76] ther was, a wanton and a mery, A Limitour,[77] a ful solempnè man. In all the ordres foure is none that can So muche of daliance and fayre langáge. He hadde ymade ful many a mariáge Of yongè wimmen, at his owen cost. Until[78] his ordre he was a noble post. Ful wel beloved, and familier was he With frankeleins[79] over all in his contrèe, And eke with worthy wimmen of the toun: For he had power of confessioun, As saide himselfè, more than a curát, For of his ordre he was a licenciat. Ful swetely herde he confession, And plesant was his absolution. He was an esy man to give penaunce, Ther as he wiste[80] to han[81] a good pitaunce: For unto a poure[82] ordre for to give Is signè that a man is wel yshrive.[83] For if he gaf, he dorstè make avaunt,[84] He wistè that a man was repentaunt. For many a man so hard is of his herte, He may not wepe although him sorè smerte. Therfore in stede of weping and praieres, Men mote[85] give silver to the pourè freres. His tippet was ay farsed[86] ful of knives, And pinnès, for to given fayrè wives. And certainly he hadde a mery note. Wel coude he singe and plaien on a rote.[87] Of yeddinges[88] he bar utterly the pris. His nekke was white as the flour de lis. Therto he strong was as a champioun, And knew wel the tavérnes in every toun, And every hosteler and tappestere, Better than a lazar or a beggestere, For unto swiche a worthy man as he Accordeth not, as by his facultè, To haven[89] with sike lazars acquaintànce. It is not honest, it may not avànce,[90] As for to delen with no swiche pouràille,[91] But all with riche, and sellers of vitàille. And over all, ther as profit shuld arise, Curteis he was, and lowly of servise. Ther nas no man no wher so vertuous. He was the beste begger in his hous: [And gave a certain fermè[92] for the grant, Non of his bretheren came in his haunt.] For though a widewe haddè but a shoo, (So plesant was his _in principio_) Yet wold he have a ferthing or[93] he went. His pourchas was wel better than his rent.[94] And rage he coude as it hadde ben a whelp, In lovèdayes,[95] ther coude he mochel help. For ther he was nat like a cloisterere, With thredbare cope, as is a poure scolere, But he was like a maister or a pope. Of double worsted was his semicope,[96] That round was as a belle out of the presse. Somwhat he lisped, for his wantonnesse, To make his English swete upon his tonge; And in his harping, whan that he hadde songe, His eyen twinkeled in his hed aright, As don the sterrès in a frosty night. This worthy limitour was cleped Hubèrd.
[Footnote 59: a fair one for the mastership.]
[Footnote 60: hunting.]
[Footnote 61: dainty.]
[Footnote 62: pass.]
[Footnote 63: did not care a plucked hen for the text.]
[Footnote 64: careless; removed from the restraints of his order and vows.]
[Footnote 65: mad.]
[Footnote 66: toil.]
[Footnote 67: biddeth.]
[Footnote 68: hard rider.]
[Footnote 69: spurring.]
[Footnote 70: wrought on the edge.]
[Footnote 71: a fine kind of fur.]
[Footnote 72: bald.]
[Footnote 73: bright.]
[Footnote 74: Shone like a furnace under a cauldron.]
[Footnote 75: tormented.]
[Footnote 76: Friar.]
[Footnote 77: A friar with a licence to beg within certain limits.]
[Footnote 78: Unto.]
[Footnote 79: country gentlemen.]
[Footnote 80: knew.]
[Footnote 81: have.]
[Footnote 82: poor.]
[Footnote 83: shriven.]
[Footnote 84: durst make a boast.]
[Footnote 85: must.]
[Footnote 86: stuffed.]
[Footnote 87: a stringed instrument.]
[Footnote 88: story telling.]
[Footnote 89: have.]
[Footnote 90: profit.]
[Footnote 91: poor people.]
[Footnote 92: farm. This couplet only appears in the Hengwrt MS. As Mr. Pollard says, it is probably Chaucer's, but may have been omitted by him as it interrupts the sentence. Cf. _Globe_ Chaucer.]
[Footnote 93: ere.]
[Footnote 94: The proceeds of his begging exceeded his fixed income.]
[Footnote 95: Days appointed for the amicable settlement of differences.]
[Footnote 96: half cloak.]
JOHN LYDGATE.
(1373?-1460.)
IV. THE LONDON LACKPENNY.
This is an admirable picture of London life early in the fifteenth century. The poem first appeared among Lydgate's fugitive pieces, and has been preserved in the Harleian MSS.
To London once my steps I bent, Where truth in no wise should be faint; To Westminster-ward I forthwith went, To a man of Law to make complaint. I said, "For Mary's love, that holy saint, Pity the poor that would proceed!"[97] But for lack of money, I could not speed.
And, as I thrust the press among, By froward chance my hood was gone; Yet for all that I stayed not long Till to the King's Bench I was come. Before the Judge I kneeled anon And prayed him for God's sake take heed. But for lack of money, I might not speed.
Beneath them sat clerks a great rout,[98] Which fast did write by one assent; There stood up one and cried about "Richard, Robert, and John of Kent!" I wist not well what this man meant, He cried so thickly there indeed. But he that lacked money might not speed.
To the Common Pleas I yode tho,[99] There sat one with a silken hood: I 'gan him reverence for to do, And told my case as well as I could; How my goods were defrauded me by falsehood; I got not a mum of his mouth for my meed,[100] And for lack of money I might not speed.
Unto the Rolls I gat me from thence, Before the clerks of the Chancery; Where many I found earning of pence; But none at all once regarded me. I gave them my plaint upon my knee; They liked it well when they had it read; But, lacking money, I could not be sped.
In Westminster Hall I found out one, Which went in a long gown of ray;[101] I crouched and knelt before him; anon, For Mary's love, for help I him pray. "I wot not what thou mean'st", 'gan he say; To get me thence he did me bid, For lack of money I could not speed.
Within this Hall, neither rich nor yet poor Would do for me aught although I should die; Which seing, I gat me out of the door; Where Flemings began on me for to cry,-- "Master, what will you copen[102] or buy? Fine felt hats, or spectacles to read? Lay down your silver, and here you may speed."
To Westminster Gate I presently went, When the sun was at high prime; Cooks to me they took good intent,[103] And proffered me bread, with ale and wine, Ribs of beef, both fat and full fine; A fairé cloth they 'gan for to spread, But, wanting money, I might not then speed.
Then unto London I did me hie, Of all the land it beareth the prize; "Hot peascodes!" one began to cry; "Strawberries ripe!" and "Cherries in the rise!"[104] One bade me come near and buy some spice; Pepper and saffrone they 'gan me bede;[105] But, for lack of money, I might not speed.
Then to the Cheap I 'gan me drawn,[106] Where much people I saw for to stand; One offered me velvet, silk, and lawn; Another he taketh me by the hand, "Here is Paris thread, the finest in the land"; I never was used to such things indeed; And, wanting money, I might not speed.
Then went I forth by London stone, Throughout all the Canwick Street; Drapers much cloth me offered anon; Then comes me one cried, "Hot sheep's feet!" One cried, "Mackarel!" "Rushes green!" another 'gan greet;[107] One bade me buy a hood to cover my head; But for want of money I might not be sped.
Then I hied me into East Cheap: One cries "Ribs of beef and many a pie!" Pewter pots they clattered on a heap; There was harpé, pipe, and minstrelsy: "Yea, by cock!" "Nay, by cock!" some began cry; Some sung of "Jenkin and Julian" for their meed; But, for lack of money, I might not speed.
Then into Cornhill anon I yode Where there was much stolen gear among; I saw where hung my owné hood, That I had lost among the throng: To buy my own hood I thought it wrong; I knew it as well as I did my creed; But, for lack of money, I could not speed.
The Taverner took me by the sleeve; "Sir," saith he, "will you our wine assay?" I answered, "That cannot much me grieve; A penny can do no more than it may." I drank a pint, and for it did pay; Yet, sore a-hungered from thence I yede; And, wanting money, I could not speed.
Then hied I me to Billings-gate, And one cried, "Ho! go we hence!" I prayed a bargeman, for God's sake, That he would spare me my expense. "Thou 'scap'st not here," quoth he, "under twopence; I list not yet bestow any almsdeed." Thus, lacking money, I could not speed.
Then I conveyed me into Kent; For of the law would I meddle no more. Because no man to me took intent, I dight[108] me to do as I did before. Now Jesus that in Bethlehem was bore[109], Save London and send true lawyers their meed! For whoso wants money with them shall not speed.
[Footnote 97: go to law.]
[Footnote 98: crowd.]
[Footnote 99: went then.]
[Footnote 100: reward.]
[Footnote 101: striped stuff.]
[Footnote 102: exchange.]
[Footnote 103: notice.]
[Footnote 104: on the bough.]
[Footnote 105: offer.]
[Footnote 106: approach.]
[Footnote 107: call.]
[Footnote 108: set.]
[Footnote 109: born.]
WILLIAM DUNBAR.
(1460-1520?)
V. THE DANCE OF THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS.
One of Dunbar's most telling satires, as well as one of the most powerful in the language.
I.
Of Februar the fiftene nicht Full lang before the dayis licht I lay intill a trance And then I saw baith Heaven and Hell Me thocht, amang the fiendis fell Mahoun gart cry ane dance Of shrews that were never shriven,[110] Agains the feast of Fastern's even,[111] To mak their observance. He bad gallants gae graith a gyis,[112] And cast up gamountis[113] in the skies, As varlets do in France.
II.
Helie harlots on hawtane wise,[114] Come in with mony sundry guise, But yet leuch never Mahoun, While priests come in with bare shaven necks; Then all the fiends leuch, and made gecks, Black-Belly and Bawsy Brown.[115]
III.
Let see, quoth he, now wha begins: With that the foul Seven Deadly Sins Begoud to leap at anis. And first of all in Dance was Pride, With hair wyld back, and bonnet on side, Like to make vaistie wanis;[116] And round about him, as a wheel, Hang all in rumples to the heel His kethat for the nanis:[117] Mony proud trumpour[118] with him trippit; Through scalding fire, aye as they skippit They girned with hideous granis.[119]
IV.
Then Ire came in with sturt and strife; His hand was aye upon his knife, He brandished like a beir:[120] Boasters, braggars, and bargainers,[121] After him passit in to pairs, All bodin in feir of weir;[122] In jacks, and scryppis, and bonnets of steel, Their legs were chainit to the heel,[123] Frawart was their affeir:[124] Some upon other with brands beft,[125] Some jaggit others to the heft, With knives that sharp could shear.
V.
Next in the Dance followit Envy, Filled full of feud and felony, Hid malice and despite: For privy hatred that traitor tremlit; Him followit mony freik dissemlit,[126] With fenyeit wordis quhyte:[127] And flatterers in to men's faces; And backbiters in secret places, To lie that had delight; And rownaris of false lesings,[128] Alace! that courts of noble kings Of them can never be quit.
VI.
Next him in Dance came Covetyce, Root of all evil, and ground of vice, That never could be content: Catives, wretches, and ockeraris,[129] Hudpikes,[130] hoarders, gatheraris, All with that warlock went: Out of their throats they shot on other Het, molten gold, me thocht, a futher[131] As fire-flaucht maist fervent; Aye as they toomit them of shot, Fiends filled them new up to the throat With gold of all kind prent.[132]
VII.