LEGENDS AND SATIRES
FROM MEDIÆVAL LITERATURE

PARADISE

From Fra Angelico's "The Last Judgment" (early fifteenth century)

LEGENDS AND SATIRES
FROM MEDIÆVAL LITERATURE

EDITED BY

MARTHA HALE SHACKFORD, Ph.D.

ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE
WELLESLEY COLLEGE

GINN AND COMPANY

BOSTON · NEW YORK · CHICAGO · LONDON

COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY MARTHA HALE SHACKFORD
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
813.10

The Athenæum Press

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PREFACE

This volume of translations is prepared especially for the use of college sophomores who are studying English poetry of the fourteenth century, but it is hoped that other readers may be interested in these old legends. Ideally, it would be better for students to read the original texts, but every teacher knows how difficult it is to provide texts in this field. The various Middle English Readers are not frankly popular in their choice of subject matter, and the publications of learned societies are far too expensive to be available for classroom work. It does not seem, therefore, entirely an offense against scholarship to offer students a volume that will serve humbly as companion to "Piers Plowman," "The Pearl," Chaucer's poems, and various romances and lyrics which are studied in carefully edited texts.

The modern translations are literal, but a certain freedom has been used in reshaping sentences and in omitting conventional phrases when they proved too monotonous in their repetitions. Quite enough tags and awkward constructions have been preserved to illustrate fully the style of mediæval clerks.

Acknowledgment is made for help received from Gaston Paris's "La littérature française au moyen âge," and from W. H. Schofield's "English Literature from the Norman Conquest to Chaucer." Miss Marion E. Markley has contributed two translations from Old French, and has given many helpful suggestions regarding details.

M. H. S.

Wellesley, Massachusetts

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

To create anew the walls and towers and gardens of the mediæval world is a comparatively easy task, now that we have so many aids to visualizing that departed age, but it is not so easy to make live again the thoughts and sentiments and beliefs of a vanished generation. All our study of history is valueless unless it brings a clearer revelation of the pulsing, ardent life of humanity. We search old records and old literature that we may find the true image of a world whose hopes and fears and loves prove to us the slow evolution of a progressive civilization in which all human beings share. Out of the failures and the doubts of one age comes the quicker power of another, and true progress looks both backward and forward. To cherish old traditions is both a duty and an inspiration.

The reader who turns his face toward the world of mediæval England and France, seeking to know the spirit which animated our ancestors of six centuries ago, must recognize in plowman, hermit, knight, friar, or minstrel the fundamental fact that their life was actual and real, not a mere tissue of mediæval costume and mechanical movements. In order to understand that epoch it is essential for one to study in detail the works which picture the life of the day. The world of chivalry, with its brilliant pageantry and its vows of courtesy, loyalty, and liberality, is revealed in the pages of Froissart and in the many metrical romances, where various aspects of knightly life are described. "King Horn," "Guy of Warwick," "Libeaus Desconus," "Sir Eglamour," "The Squire of Low Degree," and others tell the story of knighthood.

Another world is represented in "Piers Plowman," where the oppression of the poor by the arrogant rich and the corruption of church and state are described in racy vernacular by one whose soul was on fire with devotion to truth and justice. Social problems are enunciated, and the misery wrought by human ignorance and selfishness is depicted in satire keen, shrewd, and piercing.

Chaucer, the supreme poet of the fourteenth century in England, portrays a world of normal folk who represent all classes and conditions except the very high and the very low. While, in certain ways, Chaucer's work is easier to read and understand than that of any of his contemporaries, students often read it very superficially and fail to recognize the deeply rooted traits which show that Chaucer was the child of his epoch. We find in the English poet traces of the influence of Continental life and literature; we see him reading the classics of Rome, of Florence, and of Paris; but he was also always intimately familiar with the minor literature popular among his own countrymen.

Since an understanding of Chaucer is a vivid introduction to the later Middle Ages, it is essential for students of that period to have some acquaintance with the common literary types of Chaucer's day. The translations gathered together in this book are representative of these types,—debate, vision, allegory, saints' legends, pious tales, satire, and lay. Few examples of secular literature are given, for the most satisfactory way to approach the secular poetry of the time is to read parts, at least, of the "Romance of the Rose," which has been translated, very freely, by F. S. Ellis.[1] This long poem is a compendium of the ideals, manners, and tastes of the fashionable world of France and of England. The machinery of dream, personification, and allegory; the descriptions of nature and of dress; the attitude towards the god of love and his fabled court; the satire; and the pedantry are all highly significant facts in the history of literature. Knowing this romance, one knows the heart of thirteenth century Paris. The Troubadours,[2] too, should be studied for the sake of understanding one side of lyric poetry. All this secular poetry, however, does not account for Chaucer, who was indebted also to a stream of influence coming from religious legends and allegories. The deeper side of his nature responded to the appeal of pious tales and records of saintly lives; superstitions about nature and about God attracted his interest, and stirred him to that effective contemplation which resulted in clear, sane judgments. Religious poetry was, first and last, familiar matter to the great court poet, and we should recognize its characteristics and its sovereign appeal.

We must remember that the world of the Middle Ages was essentially and positively Catholic. From birth to death the layman was under the guardianship of Holy Church, and bound by the most solemn vows to perfect obedience. Yet, although there seems to be a certain conventionality in his performance of these duties, there was a very lively concern regarding that other world toward which he was moving. Close to the spiritual ecstasy of such lives as that of Saint Francis, or of Saint Catherine, or of the uncanonized Richard Rolle, there was a dim, frightened foreboding that perhaps Evil might prove the triumphant force. Love of God was no stronger than fear of the devil. Tales of the black magic of Satan as well as of the white magic of the church were eagerly listened to by a people quick to show their interest in any manifestation of the supernatural. Crude and childish as their faiths and superstitions may seem to a more liberal age, there is something impressive in their deep conviction of hidden truths. When we lose all sense of mystery and of wonder and are wholly free from any illusions, life becomes singularly vapid, for the very key to spiritual existence is a sense of infinite meanings forever challenging, baffling, and dominating our daily life.

"But God forbede but men shulde leve

Wel more thing then men han seen with ÿe!"

In the legends and allegories and satires represented in these pages the reader will find strange and fervent faiths as well as homely pictures of the world as it is. A vigorous use of the concrete is everywhere evident; abstractions seem not to exist without some physical traits to make them real to the ordinary man. Intensely picturesque and objective are the descriptions of hell and of heaven, of the lands visited by Brandon, of Saint Paul's otter, of the miracles of Saint Thomas, of the virtues of the coral, and of the traits of Rose and of Violet. To any readers there is unending charm in the natural, simple style of setting forth these details which force vivid conceptions upon the imagination.

Growing up in a world of brilliant court life and becoming familiar with a literary art which placed emphasis upon the concrete, Chaucer was inevitably destined to be a supreme master of specific, suggestive realism. He loved every aspect of existence, and he wrought his descriptions with an art precise and joyous. The French poets and the English preachers taught him the secret of appealing to the popular love of visible and audible images. Yet his greatest power is that dramatic portrayal of human experience, a presentation whose quick humour and overflowing sympathy have made him beloved by generations. Impatient of affectation in art, in manner, or in spiritual matters, he taught sincerity. His humour, poise, and fearless, keen mentality will always have their healing and wonder-working qualities.

PROEM

OF MAN'S BODY

OF MAN'S SOUL

OF MAN'S BODY[3]

As I said before, the King of Might would be worshipped by two kinds of beings, angel and man. Adam was created, therefore, to make the tenth order, which Lucifer tried to destroy. Adam was not made of earth alone, but of four elements: his blood of water, his flesh of earth, his heat of fire, and his breath of air. His head has two eyes. The sky has sun and moon that, as men know, are set for sight; so man's eyes serve as sun and moon of light. Seven chief stars are fixed in heaven, and man's head has seven holes, which, if you think about it, you may find with little labor. This breath that man draws so often betokens the wind that blows aloft, of which thunder and lightning are created, as breath is bred in the breast with a cough. All waters sink into the sea, so man's stomach drinks all liquors. His feet bear him up from falling, as the earth upholds all things. The upper fire gives man his sight, the upper air his power of hearing, the under wind gives him his breath, the earth gives him his taste, feeling, and touch; the hardness of bone that man has comes to him from the nature of stones. From the earth grow trees and grass; and from man's flesh, nails and hair. With dumb beasts man has his share of things which he likes ill or well. Of these things, I have heard said, Adam's body was put together. For this reason that you have heard, man is called the lesser world.

OF MAN'S SOUL

But you have not yet heard the story of how man's soul was wrought. A ghostly light man says it is that God has made in His likeness; as print of a seal is fixed in wax, so man has God's likeness. He has wrought him as friend and companion, since nothing is so dear to Him. His Godhead is the Trinity, so a soul has properly three powers: the perception of what is, was, and shall be. It has pure understanding of what is seen and is unseen; it has, also, wisdom of will to take the good and leave the evil. All the powers that may be dwell in that Holy Trinity. That soul which is cleansed from sin has all virtues. As God, who is one and three, may by no kind of creature be understood nor overtaken, but He overtakes each one, so the soul, without spot, is unseen, though it has sight of all things. To see the soul you have no power. Now have I shown you how two things hold man together;—the soul, a thing spiritual, and the body, which is flesh and skin.

Translated by M. H. S.

DEBATE

THE AMOROUS CONTENTION OF PHILLIS AND FLORA

THE PLEADING OF THE ROSE AND OF THE VIOLET

THE AMOROUS CONTENTION OF PHILLIS AND FLORA[4]

In flowry season of the yeere,

And when the firmament was cleere,

When Tellus hierbales paynted were

With issue of disparent[5] chere.

When th'usher to the morne did rise,

And drive the darknes from the skyes,

Sleepe gave their visuale liberties

To Phillis and to Floras eyes.

To walke these Ladyes liked best,

For sleepe rejects the wounded brest,

Who joyntly to a meade addrest,

Their sportance with the place to feast.

Thus made they amorous accesse,

Both virgins and both princesces;

Fayre Phillis wore a liberal tresse,

But Flora hirs in curls did dresse.

Nor in their ornamentall grace,

Nor in behaviour were they bace;

Their yeeres and mindes in egall[6] place

Did youth and his effects embrace.

A little yet unlike they proove,

And somewhat hostilely they strove:

A scholler Floras minde did moove,

But Phillis likt a souldiers love.

For stature and fresh bewties flowrs,

There grew no difference in their dowrs,

All thinges were free to both their powrs

Without and in their courtly bowrs.

One vow they made religiously,

And were of one societie;

And onely was their impacie[7]

The forme of eithers phantasie.[8]

Now did a timely gentle gale

A little whisper through the dale,

Where was a place of festivale,

With verdant grasse adorned all.

And in that meade-prowd-making grasse,

A river, like to liquid glasse,

Did in such sound-full murmure passe,

That with the same it wanton was.

Hard by this brooke a pyne had seate,

With goodly furniture compleate,

To make the place in state more greate

And lessen the inflaming heate.

Which was with leaves so bewtifide

And spread his brest so thicke and wide,

That all the sunnes estranged pride

Sustainde repulse on every side.

Fayre Phillis by the foorde did sit,

But Flora far remov'd from it,

The place in all thinges sweete was fit,

Where herbage did their seates admit.

Thus milde they opposite were set,

And coulde not their affects forget,

Loves arrows and their bosoms met,

And both their harts did passion fret.

Love close and inward shrowds his fires,

And in faint words firme sighs enspires,

Pale tinctures change their cheeks attires,

But modest shame entoombs their ires.

Phillis did Flora sighing take,

And Flora did requitale make:

So both together part the stake,

Till foorth the wound and sicknes brak.

In this chang'd speech they long time staide,

The processe all on Love they laide,

Love in their harts their lookes bewraide,

At last in laughter Phillis saide:

"Brave souldier," sayd she, "O my Paris,

In fight, or where so ere he tarries,

The souldiers lyfe lyfes glory carries,

Onely worth Venus household quarries."[9]

While she hir warr-friende did prefer,

Flora lookt coye and laught at her;

And did this adverse speech aver:

"Thou shouldst have said, I love a begger.

"But what doth he my hart embraces?

A thing create, that all things passes,

Whom nature blest with all hir graces;

O clerkes, in you blisse all blisse places."

This hard speech Phillis hardly takes,

And thus she Floras pacience crakes;

"Thou lov'st a man pure love forsakes,

That God his godles bellie makes.

"Rise, wretch, from this grosse extasie,

A clerke sole epicure thinke I.

No elegance can bewtifie

A shapeles lump of gluttonie.

"His hart sweete Cupids tents rejects,

That onely meate and drinke affects:

O Flora, all mens intelects

Know souldiers vows, shun those respects.

"Meere helpes for neede his minde suffiseth,

Dull sleepe and surfetts he despiseth,

Loves trump his temples exerciseth,

Cooradge and love, his life compriseth.

"Who with like band our loves combineth?

Even Natures law thereat repineth;

My love in conquests palme-wreths shineth,

Thine feasts deforms, mine fight refineth."

Flora hir modest face enrosed,

Whose second smile more fayre disclosed,

At length with mooving voyce she losed

What art in her storde brest reposed.

"Phillis, thy fill of speech thou hast,

Thy witt with pointed wings is grast,

Yet urdgest not a trueth so vast,

That hemlocks lillies have surpast.

"Ease loving clerkes thou holdst for cleere,

Servants to sloth and bellie cheere;

So envie honor would enpheere,[10]

But give me eare, Ile give thee answere.

"So much enjoyes this love of myne,

He nere envies, or hirs, or thyne;

Household stuffe, honny, oyle, corne, wine,

Coyne, jewels, plate, serve his designe.

"Such pleasing store have clerks bylying,

As none can fayne their dignifying:

There, Love clasps his glad wings in flying,

Love ever firme, Love never dying.

"Loves stings in him are still sustained,

Yet is my clerke nor pinde nor pained:

Joy hath no part in him restrained,

To whom his love beares thoughts unfained.

"Palled, and leane, is thy elected,

Poore, scarce with cloths or skin contected,

His sinews weake, his brest dyjected,

For nothing causde maks nought effected.

"Approching neede is Loves meere hell,

Souldiers want gyfts to woo loves well:

But clerks give much, and still heaps swell,

Their rents and riches so excell."

"Right well thou knowst" (Phillis replide)

"What in both arts and lyves abide,

Likely, and clenly thou hast lide:

But thus our difference is not tride.

"When holy-day the whole world cheeres,

A clerke lifes modest figure beares:

His crowne is heaven, black weeds he weares,

And showes a mind halfe dround in teares.

"None is so poore of sence or eyne,

To whom a souldier doth not shyne:

At ease, like sprightles beasts lives thyne,

Helms, and barb'd horse, do weare out myne.

"Mine low with armes makes foe-towrs ly,

And when on foote he fight doth try,

While his fayre squire his horse holds by,

Mine thinks on me, and then they dy.

"He turns, fight past, and foes inchased,

And lookes on me with helme unlaced,

Lifts his strong lyms, and brest strait graced,

And saies, kyss-blesse me, O hart-placed."

Flora her wrath in pants did spye,

And many a dart at hir lets flye:

"Thou canst not make with heaven-reacht crye

A camel pierce a needels eye.

"False goes for true, for honny, gall,

To make a clerke a souldiers thrall;

Doth love to souldiers coradge call?

No, but the neede they toyle withall.

"Fayre Phillis, would thy love were wise,

No more the trueth to contrarise!

Hunger and thirst bow souldiers thies,

In which Deaths path and Plutos lies.

"Sharpe is the wasting bane of warre

The lot is hard, and strayneth farre:

The lyfe is stooping, doubts doth jarre,

To get such things as needefull are.

"Knewst thou the case, thou wouldst not say,

Shaven haire sham'd clerks, or black aray:

Worne higher honors to display,

And that all states they oversway.

"All things should to my clerke encline,

Whose crowne sustains th' impereal signe;

He rules and payes such friendes as thine,

And lay must stoope to men divine.

"Thou sayst that sloth a clerke disguiseth,

Who I confesse base workes despiseth:

But when from cares his free minde riseth,

Heavens course and Naturs he compriseth.

"Mine purple decks, thine maile bedighteth,

Thine lives in war, mine peace delighteth,

Olde acts of princes he resighteth,

All of his friend thinks, seeks, and wrighteth.

"What Venus can, or Loves wingd lord,

First knowes my clerke, and brings me word:

Musicke in cares doth mine afford,

Thine joyes in rapine and the sword."

Here speech and strife had both their ending,

Phillis askt judgment, all suspending:

Much stir they made, yet ceast contending;

And sought a judge in homewards wending.

With countnances that egale[11] beene,

With egale majestie beseene:

With egale voyce, and egale spleene,

These virgins ward uppon the greene.

Phillis a white robe bewtifide,

Flora wore one of two hews dide:

Phillis upon a mule did ride,

Flora did back a horse of pride.

The mule was that which being create,

Neptune did feede, and subjugate:

Which after fayre Adonis fate,

He Venus sent to cheere hir state.

This, she the queene of Iberine,

Phillis fayre mother did resigne,

Since she was given to workes divine,

Whence Phillis had the mule in fine.

Who of the trappings asks, and bit,

The mule (though silver) champing it:

Know all things were so richly fit,

As Neptunes honor might admit.

Then Phillis no decorid wanted,

But rich and bewtious, all eyes daunted:

Nor Floras vertue lesse enchaunted,

Who on a welthy palfrey vaunted.

Tamde with his raines, won heaven for lightnes,

Exceeding fayre, and full of wightnes,[12]

His brest art dectt with divers brightnes,

For jeate blacke mixt with swans pure whightnes.

Young and in dainty shape dygested,

His lookes with pride, not rage, invested:

His mayne thin haird, his neck high crested,

Small eare, short head, and burly brested.

His brode backe stoopt to this clerks-loved,

Which with hir pressure nought was moved:

Strait legd, large thighd, and hollow hoved,

All Natures skill in him was proved.

An ivorie seate on him had place,

A hoope of golde did it imbrace,

Graven: and the poitrell[13] did enchace

A stone that star-like gave it grace.

Inscription there allurde the eye,

With many a wondrous misterie:

Of ancient thinges made noveltie,

That never man did yet descrie.

The God of Rhetoriques nuptiall bowre,