(3) Next, in Thynne, the passage beginning at p. [124], l. 8:—Now trewly, lady—and ending at p. [128], at the end of the chapter (Th. fol. 357, last line).
(4) Next, in Thynne, the passage beginning at p. [132], new chapter:—Uery trouth (quod she)—and ending at p. [135], l. 94:—that shal bringe out frute that (Th. fol. 358, back, col. 1, l. 25).
(5) Next, in Thynne, the passage beginning at p. [118], l. 56:—is nothyng preterit ne passed—and ending at p. [124], l. 7:—euer to onbyde (Th. fol. 360, col. 1, l. 24).
(6) Next, in Thynne, the passage beginning at p. [128], new chapter:—Nowe, lady (quod I) that tree to set—and ending at p. [131], l. 97:—vse ye (Th. fol. 360, back, col. 2, l. 9).
(7) Lastly, the text reverts to the true order, at p. [143], l. 46, with the words:—greatest wisdom (Th. fol. 360, back, col. 2, l. 9. as before). See The Athenæum, no. 3615, Feb. 6, 1897.
It is not difficult to account for this somewhat confusing dislocation. It is clear that the original MS. was written on quires of the usual size, containing 8 folios apiece. The first 10 quires, which we may call a, b, c, d, e, f, g, h, i, and k, were in the right order. The rest of the MS. occupied quire l (of 8 folios), and quire m (of only 2); the last page being blank. The seventh folio of l was torn up the back, so that the two leaves parted company; and the same happened to both the folios in quire m, leaving six leaves loose. What then happened was this:—first of all, folios l1—l4, were reversed and turned inside out; then
came the former halves of m1, and m2, and the latter half of l7; next l5 and l6 (undetached), with the former half of l7 thrust in the middle; so that the order in this extraordinary quire was as follows: l4, l3, l2, l1, all inside out, half of m1, half of m2, the latter half of l7, l5, l6, and the former half of l7, followed by the six undetached leaves. The last quire simply consisted of l8 (entire), followed by the latter halves of m2 and m1, which were kept in the right order by the fact that the last page was blank.
It has thus become possible for us to make some progress towards the right understanding of the work, which has hitherto been much misunderstood. Warton (Hist. E. Poetry, 1840, ii. 218) dismisses it in two lines:—'It is a lover's parody of Boethius's book De Consolatione mentioned above'; whereas the author was not a lover at all, except in a spiritual sense. Even the fuller account in Morley's English Writers (1890), v. 261, is not wholly correct. The statement is there made, that 'it professes to be written, and probably was written, by a prisoner in danger of his life'; but the prison[[6]] may have been at first metaphorical, as he could hardly have written the whole work in two or three months. In Book iii. ch. 9, ll. 131, 132, he prays that 'God's hand, which has scourged him in mercy, may hereafter mercifully keep and defend him in good plight.' The whole tone of the treatise shews that he is writing to justify himself, and thinks that he has succeeded. But a stern doom was close at hand.
[§ 9]. The truth is that the attempts of Godwin and others to make the autobiographical statements of the author fit into the life of Chaucer, have quite led the critics out of the right track. That the author was not Chaucer is perfectly obvious to every one who reads the passage in the lower half of p. [140] with moderate attention; for the author there refers to Chaucer as Love's 'noble philosophical poet in English,' who wrote a treatise of Love's servant Troilus, and who 'passeth all other makers in wit and in good reason of sentence'; praise which, however true it may be of Chaucer, the writer was certainly not entitled to claim for himself. The sole point in which the circumstances of the author agree with those of Chaucer is this—that they were both born in London; which is, obviously, too slight a coincidence to build
upon. Now that we know the author's name to have been Thomas Usk, the matter assumes quite another complexion. Usk was much inclined, in his early days, to a belief in Lollard opinions; but when he found that persistence in such belief was likely to lead to trouble and danger, he deemed it prudent to recant as completely as he could[[7]], and contemplates his consequent security with some complacency.