{"1": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4540", "width": "2913", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.\\nPl\\\\ifofc\\nChap.-__ Copyrisht No.\\nShelf. L.S-\\nUNITED STATES OF AMERICA.", "height": "4608", "width": "2737", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4608", "width": "2737", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4608", "width": "2901", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4608", "width": "2901", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4608", "width": "2901", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "THE BEGINNINGS OF ENGLISH\\nLITERATURE\\nBY\\nCHARLTON M. LEWIS\\nEmily Sanford Professor of English Literature in\\nYale University\\nBOSTON, U.S.A.\\nGINN COMPANY, PUBLISHERS\\nCbe 3lt!)enaeum prefifl;\\n1 900", "height": "4608", "width": "2901", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "49240\\nkibrtu y at Coaai\\nW. Jf (ti, fttCfcuED\\nSEP 19 1900\\nSECOND COPY.\\n0\u00c2\u00abH\u00c2\u00ab\u00c2\u00abr\u00c2\u00abd to\\nOflOtt) [MVISION,\\nSEP 24 190U\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0J\\n\\\\p\\n\\\\i\\n80186\\nCopyright, 1900\\nBy CHARLTON M. LEWIS\\n.V\\nALL RIGHTS RESERVED", "height": "4432", "width": "2713", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "PREFACE\\nThe only satisfactory way to teach English literature\\nto beginners is to put the literature itself in their hands,\\nand try to aid them in getting an intelligent appreciation\\nof it. The study of literary evolutions is important even\\nat first, but only in so far as it is an aid to such appre-\\nciation. It is especially desirable that the student should\\nnot think of the study of the poets, for example, as con-\\nsisting chiefly in the study of what other people have\\nwritten about them.\\nYet it is hardly practicable to dispense with the text-\\nbook altogether. The earliest authors that have usually\\nbeen read by the under-classmen in Yale College, for\\nexample, are Spenser and Shakespeare. The writers\\nwho cannot be enjoyed without some preliminary lin-\\nguistic study have been reserved for a later, place in the\\ncurriculum but even Spenser and Shakespeare, and\\ntheir period, can best be taken up after at least a slight\\nknowledge of the earlier history of our literature has\\nbeen acquired.\\nThis book has been written to supply what the author s\\nexperience has shown to be a real need. Its purpose is\\nto give to those who do not, for the present at least,\\nrequire an intimate acquaintance with Old and Middle\\nEnglish authors, such a knowledge of their character-\\nistics and historical relations as may serve for an intro-\\niii", "height": "4432", "width": "2713", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0009.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "iv PREFACE\\nduction to the study of the EHzabethan and later periods.\\nSeveral other books covering much of the same ground\\nare easily available but they are either very elementary\\nin treatment or so crowded with barren statements of\\nunimportant facts as to defeat the purpose just suggested.\\nMere digests of names and dates may be excellent for\\nreference, or as companions to actual reading, but they\\ncannot profitably be used alone for continuous study.\\nThe present work is designed as a sort of compromise.\\nIt is not a history of our early literature, but an intro-\\nduction to the history of our later literature. It does\\nnot give an account of all our early writers, nor even of\\nall the important ones but it selects striking repre-\\nsentatives of a few great facts in the history of our lit\\nerature, and attempts to give a sufficiently full account\\nof them to impress the student s imagination and leave\\nsome distinct trace in his memory. A few extracts, in\\ntranslation, are given from the older writers, and longer\\npassages are given in the original from such works as\\ncan be made fairly intelligible with the aid of occasional\\nglosses. In the longest selections, the line numbering\\nof the original text is noted in the margin, to facili-\\ntate either class-room reference or consultation of\\ncommentaries.\\nThe first chapter is inserted because of a grievous need\\nwithin the writer s own experience. Students ought to\\nknow something of English history before they approach\\nthe history of English literature, but in fact they often\\ndo not and this chapter, therefore, as well as several\\nminor passages in the later chapters, seemed indispen-\\nsable. The second chapter is not necessary to the stu-", "height": "4432", "width": "2713", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0010.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "PREFACE V\\ndent of literary history, but it is desirable that he should\\nnot be ignorant of the facts contained in it, for literature\\nand language do not develop in entire independence of\\neach other. Moreover, it will doubtless be found useful\\nin the early part of a college course to give the student\\nsome knowledge of the general nature of linguistic\\nstudies, if only that he may be intelligently guided in\\nhis choice of more advanced courses.\\nThe book is novel in plan, but it was, of course, no\\nessential part of its plan to give new facts or new views.\\nThe author has freely availed himself of the researches\\nof others. His chief indebtedness is to Lounsbury s\\nand Emerson s Histories, for the materials of the second\\nchapter but a detailed acknowledgment would include\\nMorley, ten Brink, Skeat, Gaston Paris, Petit de Julle-\\nville. Cook, Eicken, Wiilker, Trevelyan, Andrew D.\\nWhite, Brooke, Nutt, Seebohm, and many others.", "height": "4432", "width": "2713", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0011.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4432", "width": "2713", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0012.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "TABLE OF CONTENTS\\nPAGE\\nChronological Table ix\\nChapter I. The Making of the Race i\\nPrehistoric Britain. The Roman period. The last of the\\nBritons. The coming of the English. Alfred and the\\nDanes. The Norman Conquest. The feudal system.\\nEngland after the Conquest.\\nChapter II. The Making of the Language 15\\nThe Indo-European family. The Teutonic branch. Eng-\\nlish as a Teutonic language. Old English. Latin and Old\\nFrench. The development of Middle English. English\\ndialects. Miscellaneous foreign influences.\\nChapter III. Old English Literature 32\\nWidsith. Beowulf. Caedmon and Bede. Cynewulf.\\nJudith. Alfred and the later literature.\\nChapter IV. The Romances of Chivalry 53\\nAsceticism. Geoffrey and the French romances. The\\nHoly Grail. Layamon and the English romances. Malory s\\nMorte Darthur.\\nChapter V. The Early Middle English Period\\nThe Bestiary. The earliest lyrics. Fabliau and satire.\\nRichard Rolle of Hampole.\\nChapter VI. The Age of Chaucer. 98\\nThe fourteenth century. The Alliterative Poems. Piers\\nFlowma7t. Gower.\\nvii", "height": "4432", "width": "2713", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0013.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "Vlll TABLE OF CONTENTS\\nChapter VII. Chaucer 120\\nThe life of Chaucer. Chaucer s French period. His later\\npoems. The Canterbury Tales.\\nChapter VIII. The End of the -Middle Ages 141\\nThe Chaucerian school. The Kingis Quair and The Court\\nof Love. Maundevile^ s Travels. Ballads. Dramatic enter-\\ntainments.\\nChapter IX. The Renaissance 162\\nCaxton. Skelton. Mediaeval universities. The Revival\\nof Learning. The Humanists. The Reformation. Wyatt\\nand Surrey. Conclusion.\\nIndex 189", "height": "4432", "width": "2713", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0014.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE\\nB.C. S5 Caesar s first invasion of Britain.\\nA.D. 43. Invasion of Aulus Plautius, under the Emperor Clau-\\ndius.\\n387 Birth of St. Patrick.\\n411. Withdrawal of the Roman legions.\\n449? Beginning of conquest by the English.\\nWidsith.\\n516.^ Victory of Arthur at Mount Badon.\\n597. The Pope sends missionaries to the English.\\nBeowulf.\\n680. Death of Caedmon.\\n735. Death of Bede.\\nCynewulf.\\n793. The Northmen descend upon Lindisfarne.\\nJudith.\\n871-901. Reign of Alfred.\\n937. Battle of Brunanburh.\\n1 01 6-1 042. England under Danish kings.\\n1066. The Norman Conquest.\\n1 140. Geoffrey of Monmouth s i7/j-/^r/ Britonu7n.\\n1 1 54. Last entries in the Old English Chronicle.\\n1 1 70. Chrestien s Conte de la Charrette.\\n1204. Loss of Normandy.\\n1205 Layamon s Brut.\\n1250? T\\\\i^ Bestiary. T\\\\i^ Cuckoo-Song.\\nDame Siriz.\\nKing Horn.\\nThe Vox and the Wolf.\\n1 300 The Land of Cokaygne.\\nix", "height": "4432", "width": "2713", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0015.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "X CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE\\nA.D. 1325 Birth of Gower.\\n1327. Accession of Edward IIL\\n1332? Birth of Langland.\\n1336? Birth of Chaucer.\\n1346. Battle of Crecy.\\n1348. First visitation of the Black Death.\\n1349. Death of Richard Rolle.\\n1356. Battle of Poitiers.\\nAnonymous West Midland Alliterative Poems.\\n1359. Chaucer s mihtary service in France.\\n1362. English is made the official language of Parliament\\nand the courts of law.\\n1362 First version of Piers Plowman.\\n1369. The Book of the Duchess.\\n1373. Chaucer s first visit to Italy.\\n1 38 1. The Peasants Revolt.\\n1382. Wyclif s expulsion from Oxford.\\n1384. Wyclif s death.\\n1385 The Legend of Good Women.\\n1386? The Canterbury Tales begun.\\n1392. The Confessio Amantis.\\n1400. Death of Chaucer Q and Langland).\\n1408. Death of Gower.\\n1 English version of Mau7idevile^s Travels.\\n1 41 3. Occleve s Governail of Princes.\\nThe Kingis Quair.\\n1437. Death of James I of Scotland.\\n1453. Fall of Constantinople.\\n1470. Malory s Morte Darthur.\\nThe Court of Love.\\n1477. Caxton prints Dictes and Sayings of the Philosophers.\\n1485. End of the Wars of the Roses.\\n1498? Erasmus s first visit to England.\\n1509. The Praise of Folly,\\n1 5 16. The Utopia.\\n1 51 7. Luther s declaration against indulgences begins the\\nReformation.", "height": "4432", "width": "2713", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0016.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE XI\\nA.D. 1 51 8? Skelton s Colyn Cloute.\\n1527. Henry VIII first applies to the Pope for a divorce.\\n1533. Henry marries Anne Boleyn. Wyatt and Surrey are\\npresent at the festivities.\\n1535. Execution of Sir Thomas More.\\n1542. Death of Wyatt.\\n1547. Execution of Surrey. Death of Henry VIII.\\n1 547-1 553. Reign of Edward VI.\\n1552. Birth of Edmund Spenser.\\n1 553-1 558. Reign of Queen Mary.\\n1558. Accession of Queen EHzabeth.\\n1561. Gorboduc.\\n1564. Birth of Shakespeare.\\n1576. The Paradise of Dainty Devices,\\n1578. The Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant Inventions.\\n1579. Ly\\\\y s Eupkues.\\n1590. First three books of The Faerie Queene.", "height": "4432", "width": "2713", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0017.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4432", "width": "2713", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0018.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nCHAPTER I\\nTHE MAKING OF THE RACE\\n1. Prehistoric Britain. Since the beginning of British\\nhistory Britain has been a home for several races, but\\nall have belonged to the Indo-European family. It is\\nknown, however, that at least three other races occupied\\nthe island before. Our knowledge of these three is\\nobtained from fossils, stone implements, burial mounds,\\nand other similar remains. The first race seem to have\\nbeen not very much more civilized than the beasts that\\nthey killed and ate. The second used stone weapons\\nwith wooden handles, and were fond of scratching rude\\npictures on bones, or other substances they are thought\\nto have been related to the modern Esquimaux. The\\nthird were Iberians, like the modern Basques of the\\nPyrenees Mountains. Of these three races, the first\\ntwo have probably passed away altogether from the Brit-\\nish Islands, but it is supposed that the Iberians have\\nleft descendants by intermarriage among all the Indo-\\nEuropean races of the West. The Iberians of Britain\\nwere able to spin and weave, till the ground, and sail the\\nsea. They had some tribal organization, and built rude\\nfortifications. They were barbarians, but hardly savages.", "height": "4432", "width": "2713", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0019.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "2 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nThe first Indo-Europeans to reach Britain were of the\\nCeltic branch of the family. They came several cen-\\nturies before the Christian era, and either exterminated\\nor absorbed their predecessors. They were in Britain\\nwhen the island first became known to the civilized\\nworld, and their descendants still inhabit Scotland,\\nWales, Ireland, and even parts of England. The early\\nCelts, unlike the Iberians, were learning the use of iron\\nthey lived in wattled huts of clay, sticks, and reeds they\\nhad a well-developed tribal organization, with chieftains\\nand aristocracy at the head; and they had a polythe-\\nistic religion vaguely similar to that of the Greeks and\\nRomans. They had some savage customs, such as that\\nof tattooing their bodies, and perhaps (in the earliest\\ntimes) polyandry and their druids, who were at once\\npriests, physicians, judges, and counsellors, sometimes\\noffered human sacrifices to their gods but in general\\ntheir civilization was much higher than that of the\\nIberians.\\n2. The Roman Period. Celtic Britain was known com-\\nmercially to southern Europe long before the time of\\nCaesar, but Caesar s invasion is practically the beginning\\nof the island s authentic history. Even this event was\\nof less moment than is sometimes supposed, for C^sar\\ndid not conquer Britain perhaps, indeed, he never in-\\ntended to do more than terrorize the inhabitants, and\\nso ensure the peace of Gaul. He was in Britain for less\\nthan three months, and he left no material evidences of\\nhis two expeditions.\\nAbout a century later, however, Claudius invaded\\nBritain as a conqueror, and until the year 411 the south-", "height": "4432", "width": "2713", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0020.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "THE MAKING OF THE RACE 3\\nern part of the island was a Roman possession. Rome\\nlost nearly as rQuch as she gained by the conquest, for\\nBritain swallowed up legions almost as fast as it yielded\\nspoils but a great change was wrought in the island\\nitself. The Romans did not slaughter those whom they\\ncould just as well pacify, and during the Roman period,\\ntherefore, southern Britain was at least outwardly civil-\\nized. Roman roads were arteries of commerce as well\\nas of warfare Roman villas superseded the old wattled\\nwigwams Roman theatres, baths^ and temples, and the\\nLatin language, all became familiar to the conquered race.\\nThe blessings of civilization, however, were dearly\\nbought. The Britons paid, as taxes on their land, a\\ntenth and sometimes even a fifth of its annual produce.\\nThey paid taxes for maintenance of troops, taxes for\\nentertainment of officials, taxes for repairing roads, taxes\\nfor carrying stocks of merchandise, and taxes upon suc-\\ncession to inheritances they paid poll-taxes, customs\\nand market dues, and fees for license to do ordinary\\nlabor and all these taxes were collected by foreign\\nofficials, with little restraint, doubtless, upon corrup-\\ntion. The fighting men of the subject Britons were\\ndeported to wage Rome s wars elsewhere, and in those\\nwho remained in the island vigorous manhood and the\\nlove of freedom became nearly extinct. When the last\\nRoman legions were withdrawn, it was not because the\\nBritons were able to shake off the yoke, but because\\nthe empire itself was decaying, and Rome needed all\\nher strength for self-defense.\\n3. The Last of the Britons. One reason why the Ro-\\nman colony in Britain was so hard to maintain was that", "height": "4432", "width": "2713", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0021.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "4 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nit was subject to continual depredations from the north\\nand east. The Scots, and other Celtic races in northern\\nBritain and Ireland, were not reached by Roman civili-\\nzation, and were a constant terror to their enervated\\nkinsmen in the south and for at least a century before\\nthe Romans left, the eastern coast was familiar with the\\nSaxon pirates from across the sea. After the final\\nwithdrawal of Roman protection, fruitless appeals were\\nmade for further aid. One famous message said To\\nAetius, thrice consul, the groans of the Britons. The\\nbarbarians drive us to the sea the sea drives us\\nback to the barbarians we are either slaughtered or\\ndrowned.\\nIn addition to these troubles, the Britons suffered\\nfrom domestic disorders. Rome had left them only\\nhalf civilized. The upper classes continued to speak\\nLatin, and doubtless would have been glad to maintain\\nthe Roman system of civil and military discipline but\\nthe old tribal feeling was too strong, and whatever\\nmanhood was left in the mass of the population wasted\\nitself in petty tribal squabbles. Christianity had reached\\nthe island a century or two before the Romans left it,\\nbut after their departure it seems to have become more\\nnominal than real, and life outside of the largest towns\\nwas vicious and violent.\\nTwo notable names stand out from the very obscure\\nhistory of these times those of Patricius and Ambro-\\nsius Aurelianus. The former was a native of Scotland,\\nbut was kidnapped in his boyhood and sold as a slave in\\nIreland. After suffering many hardships he was able\\nto devote himself to the reformation of the country", "height": "4432", "width": "2713", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0022.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "THE MAKING OF THE RACE 5\\nhe became a bishop of the Irish Church, and has ever\\nsince been its patron saint. Ambrosius Aurehanus, on\\nthe other hand (or perhaps simply Ambrosius), is the\\nprobable original of the legendary King Arthur. His\\nname survives in the name of Amesbury (Ambrose-\\nburg), a town often mentioned in Arthurian story and\\nthe curious fortification still extant on Salisbury plain\\nmay well have been one of his strongholds. As the\\npiratical invaders from the east penetrated farther into\\nthe heart of Britain, Ambrosius for a long time made\\na successful stand against them. He is the supposed\\nhero of at least one real British victory, that at Mt.\\nBadon about the year 516; but the legendary Arthur,\\nwho overthrew the Saxons in twelve great battles and\\nmade a realm and reigned, is like a composite photo-\\ngraph, being credited with the deeds of many others\\nbesides Ambrosius, as well as countless deeds that\\nwere never done at all.\\n4. The Coming of the English. The barbarian invaders\\nfrom over the sea, who first harried the coasts of Britain\\nand finally conquered the island, were known to the\\nBritons as Saxons, but it would be more proper to call\\nthem English. They were in fact of three kindred\\ntribes Angles, Saxons, and Jutes. Soon after the\\nRoman garrisons were withdrawn, these people began\\nmaking permanent settlements on the British coasts.\\nGradually they pressed inland, and by about 600 they\\nhad become possessed of the greater part of what is now\\nEngland. They came from the southern part of the\\nDanish peninsula, and the adjacent coast stretching\\nwestward towards the Rhine. The Jutes, the least", "height": "4432", "width": "2713", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0023.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "6 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nimportant of the three tribes, settled only Kent and\\na few inland districts. The Saxons^ took the rest of\\nBritain south of the Thames, spreading as far to the\\nwest as they could and the Angles seized the eastern\\ncoast north of the Thames, and gradually pushed inland\\nall along the line. The Angles were the most numerous\\nand probably the most intellectual and they (unlike the\\nSaxons and Jutes) came as a whole nation, bringing their\\nnational life and leaving their old home desolate. Civi-\\nlization and culture developed among them in northern\\nEngland earlier and faster than among the Saxons or\\nJutes in the south, and both Saxons and Jutes began in\\nvery early times to speak of themselves too as Eng-\\nlish.^\\nThese English were Germanic peoples, and their reli-\\ngion was akin to other Germanic religions. Early in the\\nseventh century they were Christianized by Roman mis-\\nsionaries, but the names of some of their original deities\\nstill survive in our names of days Tin s day, Woden s\\nday, etc. Moreover, Christianity by no means reconciled\\nthem with their Celtic predecessors in Britain. Scot-\\nland, and for a long time the western part of England,\\nremained independent and hostile. The fate of the\\nBritish in the conquered parts of the island is not very\\ndefinitely known, but certainly many were slain and\\nalmost as certainly many others were retained as wives\\nor as slaves. The English race therefore had from this\\ntime on a strain of Celtic blood.\\n1 The modern kingdom of Saxony has no connection with the ancient\\ntribe. It was arbitrarily named, at a much later date, and its inhab-\\nitants are not Saxons at all, in the strict sense.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0024.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "THE MAKING OF THE RACE 7\\nBy the end of the sixth century seven distinct king-\\ndoms, commonly known as the Heptarchy, were estab-\\nlished in Britain. At that time the kingdom of Kent\\nwas the most powerful of the Heptarchy, and its king\\nexercised some sort of overlordship over most of the\\nothers. In the seventh and eighth centuries the An-\\nglian kingdoms of Northumberland and Mercia attained\\na similar position, and in the eighth and ninth centuries\\nin turn the kingdom of the West Saxons came to the\\nfront. Thus Jutes, Angles, and Saxons enjoyed the\\nsupremacy in succession. There was for a long time\\nno real political unity but all were English, all spoke\\nEnglish, and all felt a strong unifying force in the\\nchurch for they had not one church of Wessex and\\nanother of Kent, but a single ecclesiastical organization\\nfor the whole Heptarchy. Therefore, after several gen-\\nerations of West Saxon overlordship, and especially after\\nit became necessary to unite against common foes, the\\nkings of Wessex naturally came to be in reality kings of\\nEngland.\\n5. Alfred and the Danes. A general westward migra-\\ntion of races was going on in northern Europe through-\\nout the dark ages, and it did not stop in England with\\nthe arrival of the English. As they had harried the\\nBritons, so various tribes of Northmen now harried\\nthem. These Scandinavian barbarians had moved\\nsouthward over the Danish peninsula, but were prob-\\nably turned back by the powerful Germanic empire of\\nCharlemagne, and in the eighth century they began\\nto attack the eastern coast of England. In the middle\\nof the ninth century they began making settlements.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0025.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "8 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\ninstead of mere raids, and the Danes, the most vigorous\\nof all the Northmen, speedily overpowered the northern\\nand eastern members of the Heptarchy.\\nAlfred came to the throne of the West Saxons in 871,\\njust as the Danes were beginning to attack Wessex\\nitself. Alfred was one of the really great men of\\nhistory, and he showed his greatness in his long and\\nbitter struggle with the enemy. Sometimes he beat\\nthem off by superiority of force or strategy sometimes,\\nwhen less successful, he bought them off but they had\\nlittle fear of force and less respect for treaties, and the\\npeace therefore was never long. One season s campaign\\nresulted in seemingly irretrievable disaster, and the king\\nhimself passed many weeks as a refugee, hiding in\\nswamps and woodland but he was secretly rallying his\\nforces and time was weakening the Danes, and the next\\nseason witnessed a complete turn of fortune. The\\nworst of the struggle ended in a truce of uncertain date,\\nsometimes called the Peace of Wedmore, by which the\\nDanes were bound to keep within certain limits, and\\nWessex was freed of them. The future of England as\\nan English rather than Danish nation was thus assured.\\nThese Danes of the north and east constituted a\\nseparate nation in England, and for a long time after\\nAlfred s death they contended with the English for the\\nmastery. The south finally won a decisive victory at\\nthe battle of Brunanburh in 937, and after this the\\nDanes gradually became a part of the English nation.\\nThey accepted civilization and Christianity, and as the\\ngenius of their language was much like that of the Eng-\\nlish, the latter was easy for their children to learn. But", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0026.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "THE MAKING OF THE RACE 9\\nnew hordes of Danes were continually appearing on the\\ncoast. Even Alfred, after the Peace of Wedmore, had\\nto defend himself against newcomers. He met and\\ndefeated them at sea, and for this reason has somewhat\\nfantastically been called the founder of the English navy.\\nSome of the later kings were less successful, and the\\nDanish raids culminated in a sweeping conquest in 1013.\\nEnglish and Anglicized Northmen united against the\\nnew invaders, but they were defeated; and in 1016\\nCnut the Dane became undisputed king of England.\\nThis conquest, however, was military rather than\\nnational. The English army and royal family were\\noverthrown, but the country was not overrun with for-\\neigners. Cnut was a wise ruler, and he wielded his\\npower for all England, not for the newly arrived Danes\\nalone. Consequently, although three successive Danish\\nkings sat on the throne, England remained England, and\\nthe effect of the conquest upon its life and its later liter-\\nature was surprisingly small.\\n6. The Norman Conquest. Britain was not the only\\nwestern country preyed upon by the Northmen. Early\\nin the tenth century they seized parts of the northern\\ncoast of France, and made the district now called Nor-\\nmandy their own. As the Danes in England became\\nEnglish, so these Northmen or Normans in France be-\\ncame French. The Scandinavian, while no less hardy\\nthan the Englishman, seemed always readier to adapt\\nhimself to new ways of living.\\nThe policy of the Norman dukes was to ally themselves\\nintimately with both France and England, and before\\nthe middle of the eleventh century the Normans and", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0027.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "lO EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nthe English were therefore closely related by commerce,\\ntravel, and intermarriage. Many Normans had settled\\npermanently in England, and some had risen to high\\npositions of influence. Otherwise the success of the\\nNormans in the coming struggle could hardly have been\\nso easy as it was.\\nWhen William, the Duke of the Normans, formed the\\ndesign of invading England, it was easy to find pretexts.\\nFor example, he was a cousin of the English king, and\\nthe latter promised him the succession when, therefore,\\nupon the king s death, the crown was given to Harold,\\nthis violated promise afforded William an argument of\\nsome practical value, though of no legal validity what-\\never. He sent a message demanding the throne, which\\nwas refused. Thereupon, in 1066, reinforcing his own\\narmy with adventurers from all quarters, he crossed the\\nchannel. His undertaking had seemed to many of his\\nadvisers almost hopeless, and indeed at the battle of\\nSenlac (or Hastings) he narrowly escaped ruin but the\\nEnglish, though they had an impregnable position, were\\nundone by bad generalship and worse discipline. Harold\\nwas killed, and William, after this one overwhelming\\nvictory, had only to bide his time patiently until the\\nEnglish should themselves invite him to take the crown.\\nThe conquest was thus completed by the peaceful\\nprocess of law.\\nThis conquest resembled that by the Danes more than\\nthat of the Celtic Britons by the English. The Nor-\\nmans spread over the upper surface of English life,\\noccupying the high places but leaving the English\\nmasses comparatively in peace. They never came over", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0028.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "THE MAKING OF THE RACE II\\nin very great numbers, and even now there are compar-\\natively few in the middle or lower classes who can boast\\nof Norman blood. But, on the other hand, unUke the\\nDanes, the Normans were acclimatized slowly. For a\\nlong time the language of the schools and of court life\\nwas French or Latin and the spirit of English life,\\nwhile by no means wholly revolutionized, did, as we\\nshall see, undergo many changes.\\n7. The Feudal System. One of the most important\\nchanges effected by the Norman Conquest was the\\nintroduction of the feudal system. This was a system\\nof government under which every powerful lord had\\nmany vassals, tenants of his lands, who were ready to\\nfight his battles for him, and whom he in turn was\\nbound to protect. Each of these tenants might be lord\\nover subtenants of his own, while the first lord was\\nperhaps himself a tenant and vassal of the king. This\\nsystem had become well developed on the continent\\nbefore the conquest, but in England it had existed only\\nin a rudimentary form.\\nThe bond between lord and tenant, under the feudal\\nsystem, was something more than a mere contract. It\\nwas more like a contract of marriage than like a modern\\nlease of land. The relation was commonly effected by\\na peculiar ceremony called commendation. The ten-\\nant uncovered his head, loosed his belt, and kneeling,\\nwith his hands between those of his lord, took a personal\\noath of fealty, and thus became his **man or vassal.\\nThe rights of the master over his man were in some\\nrespects almost rights of property yet in general the\\nsystem involved no loss of dignity on the vassal s part.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0029.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "12 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nWilliam himself, as Duke of Normandy, was a vassal\\nof the King of France, but this fact merely symbolized,\\nin the mediaeval fashion, the honorable relation between\\nthe duchy and the kingdom.\\nThe political and military effects of the feudal system\\nin England were far-reaching. The lands of those who\\nopposed William at Senlac, or elsewhere, were confis-\\ncated and bestowed upon the Conqueror s vassals.\\nEngland thus became subject to him not only as king\\nbut also as feudal overlord. On the continent William\\nhad seen that feudalism created a strong centrifugal\\ntendency, for the great barons were often able to wield\\nenormous power, and they were naturally often tempted\\nto assert their virtual independence of the crown. This\\nhe sought to prevent in England by a modification of the\\ncontinental system and he accordingly required each\\nimportant landowner in his new kingdom to take the\\noath of fealty, not merely to his im.mediate superior, but\\nalso to himself as supreme overlord. This precaution\\nmade it impossible for England to be split up into a\\nnumber of independent seigniories, and while it did not\\nprevent many bitter conflicts between the power of the\\ncrown and that of the greater barons, it did materially\\nhelp to make the supremacy of the former secure.\\nIn the history of literature, however, the social work-\\nings of the feudal system are still more important. The\\nidea of knighthood grew out of the feudal relation, and\\nout of the knightly fashions of the time grew the literary\\nideals of chivalry. The feudal system was probably of\\nmost benefit to such as could attain to knighthood, for\\nthe knights were the aristocracy of the age and we", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0030.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "THE MAKING OF THE RACE 1 3\\nshall expect, in consequence, to find the literature of\\nthe middle ages essentially aristocratic in tone.\\n8. England after the Conquest. In Normandy, William\\nhad been merely Duke of the Normans. This rank\\ncarried no absolute power it would not be far from the\\ntruth to say that he was but the chief one (the dux) of\\nmany barons. In England, as king, it was necessary for\\nhim to assert a higher function, if the unity of the king-\\ndom was to be assured. The greater Norman barons\\nnaturally preferred to regard him merely as their feudal\\noverlord, to whom they had done homage but William\\ninsisted that they were not merely his vassals but also\\nhis subjects. For the first century or more after the\\nconquest, the chief historical events in England were\\nthe struggles of the kings with the greater barons. The\\nkings who were wise enlisted on their side the sympa-\\nthies of the lesser barons and of the common people,\\nand thus the interests of many of the Normans were\\nconsolidated with those of the English. This was one\\nof the ways in which the two peoples became gradually\\nfused into one.\\nIn 1204 England lost Normandy, and this seeming\\nmisfortune was in fact a great benefit. It became nec-\\nessary for the Norman barons to retire to Normandy,\\nor else to give up their Norman possessions and become\\nreally Englishmen. This was another aid to the fusion\\nof the races. The Norman families retained their dis-\\ntinct identity for a long time as a rule, they continued\\nto speak French for two or three centuries after the\\nconquest. A historical work, finished about 1360, says\\nthat children in school, against the usage and manner", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0031.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "14 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nof all other nations, are compelled to leave their own\\nlanguage, and to construe their lessons and their matters\\nin French, and have, since the Normans came first into\\nEngland. Also, gentlemen s children are taught to\\nspeak French from the time that they are rocked in\\ntheir cradle, and rustics wish to make themselves\\nlike gentlemen, and strive with great earnestness to\\nspeak French, in order to be thought the more of.\\nIt is clear, however, that even at the time when this\\nwas written, this state of things was coming to an end.\\nA statute of 1362 made English the language of courts\\nof justice, and a historian who wrote in 1385 says that at\\nthat date the children in the schools were using English\\ninstead of French. It seems, from this and other evi-\\ndence, that in the course of the fourteenth century\\nEnglish became the family language of all classes\\nand when this happened, the distinction between the\\nNorman and English races ceased to be of much\\npractical importance.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0032.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "CHAPTER II\\nTHE MAKING OF THE LANGUAGE\\n9. The Indo-European Family. A family of languages\\nis a group of languages so similar to one another in\\nstructure and vocabulary as to compel the belief that\\nthey are all descended from some common ancestor.\\nThere are about a hundred such families in existence, of\\nwhich the Indo-European, Semitic, Hamitic, and Tura-\\nnian are the best known. All the Turanian languages,\\nfor example, such as Finnish, Turkish, and Mongolian,\\nafford evidences of more or less close kinship with one\\nanother but between them and the Semitic languages,\\nsuch as Hebrew, there is no more similarity than may\\nbe due to occasional borrowings, or perhaps to mere\\nchance.\\nThe members of the Indo-European family are now\\nscattered over Europe and Asia, and both the languages\\nthemselves and the people who speak them differ widely\\namong themselves; but it is indisputable that the lan-\\nguages are descended from a common parent speech, and\\nit seems probable that most of the peoples who speak\\nthem are descended from one parent race. It is pos-\\nsible, from internal evidence, to learn much about the\\nparent race and language. For example, from the pres-\\nence in many widely scattered members of the family\\nof cognate words for father, mother, grandson,\\n15", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0033.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "l6 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\netc., we are clearly safe in arguing that the original Indo-\\nEuropeans had a well-developed domestic life. From\\nsimilar evidence it is almost as conclusively shown that\\nthey were a pastoral people who knew the uses of milk\\nand honey. Efforts have been made to locate their origi-\\nnal home by showing what kinds of animals and plants\\nwere known to them, but the evidence is very uncertain.\\nPerhaps they lived on the northern shores of the Black\\nSea, perhaps somewhere in central Asia. At any rate,\\nthey separated many centuries before the beginning of\\ntheir recorded history.\\nThe whole Indo-European family is divisible into\\nsmaller groups or branches. For example, the English\\nand German languages are more closely related to each\\nother than to French or Welsh and this fact is indi-\\ncated by saying that they belong to the Teutonic branch\\nof the family, while French belongs to the Latin branch,\\nand Welsh to the Celtic. There are six other branches\\ngenerally recognized, their mutual relationship being\\nindicated in the following table but these three are of\\nmost interest in our present study, and the Teutonic\\nbranch is the only one that we need consider in detail.\\nIndo-European\\nI\\nAsiatic European\\nI I\\nIndian Iranian Armenian Celtic Teutonic Albanian Slavic Latin Hellenic\\nI I\\nSanskrit, Russian,\\netc. etc.\\nPersian, etc.\\n10. The Teutonic Branch. In the last section it\\nwas said that English and German are more nearly", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0034.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "THE MAKING OF THE LANGUAGE 1 7\\nrelated than English and French. This fact is some-\\nwhat obscured by the great influence exercised by\\nFrench over English in modern times. After the Nor-\\nman Conquest so many French words became natural-\\nized in English that French now seems to many students\\nless foreign than German but in order to assign our\\nlanguage to the proper branch of the Indo-European\\nfamily, we must consider only blood relations, not rela-\\ntions by adoption we must look at English as it was in\\nits infancy, before it was exposed to Latin and French\\ninfluences. When we do this we find that English is\\nunmistakably Teutonic.\\nThe Teutonic languages are distinguished from those\\nof other branches by a large number of very old words\\nwhich belong to them in common, and to them exclu-\\nsively but there are two other peculiarities besides\\nthose of vocabulary which enable us most decisively to\\nprove their mutual relationship. One of these pecul-\\niarities is a certain uniformity, or law, as to the accen-\\ntuation of words. The original law of Teutonic accent\\nwas, in brief, that the root syllable received the stress,\\nexcept in nouns and adjectives, which accented the first\\nsyllable. If a word was inflected, the accent did not\\nvary with the inflectional endings. In Latin, on the\\nother hand, the accent depended on the quantity of the\\npenult and in Greek it in part depended on the quantity\\nof syllables, and in part was seemingly arbitrary. Com-\\npare, for example, begins with incipit; brother^ brother-\\nhood with socius, societas and try to find a parallel in\\nEnglish or German for Xuo), \\\\e\\\\vica^ XekvKevai^ XeXvfcco\\nThis Teutonic law of accent is part of the genius of the", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0035.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "1 8 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nTeutonic languages, and shows amazing persistency even\\nin modern English, after centuries of linguistic adulter-\\nation. The noun and the verb prodicce, with their dif-\\nferent accents, illustrate the still prevailing tendency to\\nthrow back the accent of substantives.\\nThe second distinguishing feature of the Teutonic\\nlanguages is a peculiar change which their consonants\\nhave suffered. The consonant sounds chiefly affected\\nare those known to students of Greek grammar as the\\nthree classes of mutes, viz.\\nlabial mutes, tt,\\npalatal mutes, k, y, x-\\nlingual mutes, r, 8, 0.\\nThe change referred to is as follows Words in the\\noriginal Indo-European language which were retained in\\nthe Teutonic branch, in many cases changed the second\\nconsonant in each of these classes to the first, and the\\nfirst to the third. Thus, if there was a in the Indo-\\nEuropean word, it became ir in the Teutonic 7 became\\nic T became 6, and so on through the list. The law of\\nthis consonant shift was discovered by Grimm, and is\\nknown as Grimm s Law. Examples are seen in the\\nEnglish foot^ German Fuss cf. Greek 7rob9, Latin pes,\\nin which the initial consonant preserves the original\\nIndo-European form. So English knozv, German keit-\\nnen, from the same root as ^L^voyaKOi), cognosco English\\nhen^ German HaJm^ from the same root as fcavdl^a),\\ncanere. In the last example the sound of is repre-\\nsented by a less guttural aspirate, This law is not\\nuniversal in its application, but the exceptions to it are", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0036.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "THE MAKING OF THE LANGUAGE\\n19\\ngoverned by regular laws of their own. These, how-\\never, need not be considered here.\\n11. English as a Teutonic Language. Each of the nine\\ngreat branches of the family underwent further ramifi-\\ncations of its own. Thus from the Latin branch sprang\\nin ancient times the language of the Samnites, and in\\nmore modern times all the eight so-called romance\\nlanguages, chief among which are French, Italian, and\\nSpanish. The history of the Teutonic branch is shown\\nin the following table\\nTeutonic Branch\\nI\\nWest Germanic\\nEast Germanic\\nAnglo-Frisian\\nCommon German\\nGothic\\nOld Norse\\nI\\nOld\\nEnglish\\nMiddle\\nEnglish\\nModern\\nEnglish\\nOld\\nFrisian\\nFlemish,\\netc.\\nOld High\\nGerman\\nI\\nMiddle High\\nGerman\\nI\\nModern High\\nGerman\\nOld Low\\nGerman\\nDutch,\\netc.\\nWest\\nNorse\\nEast\\nNorse\\nIcelandic Swedish\\nand and\\nNorwegian Danish\\nIt must be kept in mind that the ancestral language\\ndesignated in the table as Teutonic is not in exist-\\nence, and that no express record of it has ever been\\nfound but by comparing the existing Indo-European\\nlanguages we can prove that such a tongue must have\\nbeen spoken at some remote past time in other words,\\nthe ancestors of all the Teutonic peoples probably kept\\ntogether and spoke a common language for a long time\\nafter they separated from the other branches of the\\nfamily. In like manner the Anglo-Frisian, the West", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0037.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "20 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nand East Germanic, and the Common German are\\npurely hypothetical languages the only evidence of\\ntheir past existence is found by comparative study of\\nthe younger tongues now extant but that evidence is\\nin most cases conclusive.\\nThe table, therefore, merely presents graphically the\\ninferences drawn by students of comparative linguistics.\\nSuch students do not always agree. Some, for exam-\\nple, reject the notion of an Anglo-Frisian tongue alto-\\ngether, and derive from the West Germanic two groups\\nof modern Germanic languages, the high and the low.\\nWhat we ordinarily call German is Modern High\\nGerman while English, Flemish, and Dutch, according\\nto this view, should all be regarded as belonging to the\\nLow German group.\\nWhichever view we take of this matter, one distinctive\\nfeature of High German is worth noting. When we\\ncompare English and German cognate words, we often\\nfind their general likeness partly obscured by a differ-\\nence in consonants. Close study has shown that this\\ndifference is due to a second change which High Ger-\\nman has suffered, along the line pointed out by Grimm s\\nlaw. According to Grimm s law, certain consonants\\nmoved up one step in their respective classes, in the\\ndays before English and German separated accord-\\ning to another law, recently discovered, some of these\\nconsonants took a second step in the same direction,\\nafter the separation but this second step was in general\\ntaken only in the High German member of the branch.\\nThus we find in German dick for the English thick\\nDorn for thorn durch for throiLgh Durst for thirst", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0038.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "THE MAKING OF THE LANGUAGE 21\\nTail for dew tetter for dear Tier for deer etc. In\\nsome cases by comparing Latin or Greek with English\\nand German, we can see the progress of both consonant\\nchanges in the same word. For example, the initial\\nconsonant of the word represented in Greek by tovo^^\\nand in Latin by tonare^ suffered by Grimm s law before\\nit appeared in the English thunder, and then in High\\nGerman suffered the second change before it finally\\nappeared as d in Donner.\\n12. Old English. When the Angles, Saxons, and\\nJutes came to Britain, they did not speak exactly alike\\nbut the differences were so slight that we regard them\\nas speaking not three languages but three dialects of\\none language. That one language is often called Anglo-\\nSaxon, and this name is correct enough, as the Angle\\nand Saxon members of the invading people were so\\nmuch more numerous than the Jutes but it is now\\nmore customary to speak of it as Old English. This\\nname serves better to indicate the relation of the lan-\\nguage to modern English, and it also presents a conven-\\nient parallel to the accepted names of Old High German,\\nOld French, Old Norse, etc. The English of the later\\nmiddle ages, after the Norman Conquest, is commonly\\ncalled Middle English.\\nOf the three original forms of Old English, that\\nspoken by the Angles has proved of most importance\\nin the history of the language. It split up at an early\\ndate into two dialects, called Northumbrian and Mercian,\\nafter the names of the two chief Anglian kingdoms in\\nthe Heptarchy. From the speech of the Saxons also\\nthere sprang several different dialects, but the foremost", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0039.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "22 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nof them was the West Saxon, that of Alfred s kingdom.\\nThese three dialects Northumbrian, Mercian, and West-\\nSaxon were spoken in the northern, midland, and south-\\nern parts of English Britain, respectively. Owing to the\\nlong political supremacy of Wessex, the southern dialect\\nattained a decided literary supremacy toward the end of\\nthe Old English period, and nearly all the Old English\\nliterature that has come down to us is written in West\\nSaxon. Several centuries later, however, after the\\nNorman Conquest, the speech of the midland counties\\nbecame the prevailing dialect, and from it grew our\\nmodern English language. Thus it appears that the\\nstandard Old English was not the parent of the standard\\nmodern English, in the strictest sense; but the con-\\nnection between the different parts of England was so\\nclose, even in early times, that the dialects influenced\\neach other very materially, and modern English there-\\nfore contains many words which owe their form to the\\nnorthern or southern dialect rather than to the Mercian.\\nIndeed it is hardly fair to say that it is descended from\\nthe Mercian dialect at all, except in a geographical\\nsense.\\nOld English, in all its dialectic forms, was a much\\nmore synthetic language than our modern tongue.\\nThere were several declensions of nouns, with from\\nfour to six distinct case-forms, and two declensions of\\nadjectives corresponding to those of modern German.\\nVerbs, too, were somewhat more freely inflected than\\nthey are now. The language, of course, lacked nearly\\nall our words of Latin origin, and while much of its\\nvocabulary has remained, it possessed many Teutonic", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0040.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "THE MAKING OF THE LANGUAGE 23\\nwords which have been lost. The student will have\\nlittle difficulty in identifying the following specimen\\nOn anginne gesceop God heofonan and eorSan.^ Sec\\neorSe w^s idel and semtig and Siestru wseron ofer ^sere\\nneowolnesse bradnesse and Godes gast waes gefered ofer\\nwaeteru. God cwaet5 Sa, ^^Geweort5e leoht and leoht\\nwearS geworht.\\n13. Latin and Old French. The French are a Celtic\\nrace, but their language is not a Celtic language. They\\nlost their original tongue when the Romans conquered\\nGaul. It will be remembered that Roman rule in Britain\\nnever wholly Latinized the British Celts but the fortune\\nof their Gallic cousins was far different. This was\\nbecause Gaul became a Roman province a whole cen-\\ntury earlier, and because it was nearer to Rome. Thus\\nit came about that before the Roman Empire itself was\\nendangered by barbarian foes, there had been ample\\ntime for the. Gauls to become in effect Romans. They\\nspoke Latin, not that of Cicero and Vergil, but the Low\\nLatin of the Roman camps. This Low Latin, in the\\nmouths of people without any literature, became more\\nand more perverted, and finally assumed the forms which\\nwe know as the Romance languages. In Spain it be-\\ncame Spanish, in France it became French, or, as we\\ncall the language of the middle ages. Old French.\\nThe change from Low Latin to French may be\\nbriefly described as a process of crushing. The most\\nstriking fact about it is that the accented syllable of a\\nLatin word was retained, though perhaps altered but\\nthe syllables before the accent were frequently crushed\\n^The character represents the sound of the modern th.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0041.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "24 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\ntogether, or syncopated, and those after the accent were\\nregularly lopped off altogether, or replaced by an e mute.\\nThus caballum becomes ckeval, damnatictiin becomes\\ndommage, exfrigidare becomes effrayer, patrem becomes\\npere. The permanence of the accented syllable accounts\\nfor some interesting phenomena in the case of words\\nwhich change their accent with inflectional endings.\\nThus from senior and seniorem came the doublets sire\\nand seigneur; from trovator and trovatorem, trouvere\\nand troubadour.\\nThis crushing process was, of ..course, only one of a\\nnumber of changes which regularly took place in the\\npassage from Latin into French. It will serve, however,\\nas a type, and will suggest how complicated has been\\nthe history of those Latin words which have found their\\nway through the French into our own language. Here,\\nhowever, caution must be observed. The most common\\nof our Latin words came to us by reason of the Norman\\nConquest they were French before they became Eng-\\nlish but we have also received Latin words from other\\nsources. In the first place, the Celtic Britons used\\nLatin freely, and they doubtless contributed a very few\\nLatin words to the vocabulary of their English conquer-\\nors. Mount is probably an example and the endings\\n-caster and -Chester in names of English towns indicate\\nthe sites of fortified camps (castra) in the period of\\nRoman occupation. In the second place, several hun-\\ndred words came from direct contact between Rome and\\nthe English before the Norman Conquest. We might\\nthink, for example, that because the word butter occurs\\nin both English and German, it must have belonged to", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0042.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "THE MAKING OF THE LANGUAGE 25\\nthe common Teutonic stock but in fact it is not improb-\\nable that the Teutonic races never ate the article until\\nthey heard of it from the Romans as buterium. Thirdly,\\na vast number of words have been knowingly borrowed\\nfrom the Latin in more modern times. Such a word as\\nunintelligibility did not, of course, pass naturally from\\nLatin through French to English it was created bodily\\nby some person with a classical education, who was con-\\nsciously adapting means to ends. Such words are often\\neasily distinguishable from those of natural growth, for\\nthey have not gone through the crushing process. For\\nexample, legalitatern became in Old French loyalte.\\nModern French has it in the form loyatite^ but it grew\\ninto English before it lost the second and our loyalty\\nis the result. The word legality^ on the other hand, is\\na learned word from the same original. It should be\\nnoted that the latter word preserves the Latin sense,\\nas well as its form, more purely than the other.\\n14. The Development of Middle English. For three\\ncenturies after the Norman Conquest two languages\\nwere spoken in England. French and English did not\\nmix, because the two races held apart, and we therefore\\nfind that English remained comparatively pure for about\\na century. It is usual to assign the date 1150 for the\\nend of Old and the beginning of Middle English, but of\\ncourse it must be understood that the change was a\\ngradual one. A Norman baron perhaps had an English\\nwife certainly he had English tenants and servants,\\nand in later times he had common political interests with\\nEnglishmen of all classes. The two races had to speak\\na common language, and the language they gradually", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0043.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "26 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nlearned to speak was a compromise between English and\\nFrench. Naturally enough, words in the new language\\nwhich were more often used by the court circles were\\nof French origin, while the everyday words of common\\npeople were English. Readers of Ivanhoe will remem-\\nber that what the English herdsman called ox became\\nbeef when it was killed and dressed for the Norman s\\nboard. In like manner we inherit from Old English\\nmost such words as land, tree, grass, field, sew, sow,\\nreap, mow, bake while from French come such words\\nas armor, homage, park, peer, ransom, castle, tapestry,\\ndtike.\\nThe French and English words in the new language\\nwere about equally numerous but nevertheless the\\nFrench element is of comparatively very small importance\\nin either Middle or Modern English. This is for two\\nreasons. In the first place, the English words are those\\nthat we use oftenest. **The article the, for illustration,\\nis found in nearly every sentence of Shakespeare but in\\nestimating his whole vocabulary it is reckoned for no\\nmore than, for instance, cousin-germafi ox fanatical, either\\none of which appears only once in all his writings.\\nAn author who uses as many French as English words\\nmay easily use the latter so much oftener that the total\\nFrench element in his style will amount to only ten or\\nfifteen per cent.\\nIn the second place, the inflections of the new speech\\nwere English rather than French. These are what\\nmark the real controlling genius of a language. When\\nwe borrow a French verb, for example, we naturally\\nLounsbury, History of the English Language^ p. 105.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0044.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "THE MAKING OF THE LANGUAGE 2/\\nconjugate it according to English custom. It would\\nbe as absurd to say reconjiais for reconnoitred as to\\nsay telegrapsa for telegraphed. This is because the\\nessentials of English grammar are deeply rooted in the\\nconsciousness of every one of us. The same thing was\\ntrue in the Middle English period, and the French words\\nthen taken in wer^ subjected to a thoroughly English\\ntreatment.\\nStill, the French language did exert a considerable\\ninfluence upon English syntax, and even upon English\\nforms. It aided largely in making English an analytic\\nrather than a synthetic language that is, in substi-\\ntuting the use of prepositions and auxiliaries for inflec-\\ntional endings. We say to send instead of sendan, and\\nthe face of the deep for tsaere neowohiesse brddnesse. In\\nOld English such analytic phrases were not uncommon,\\nand there was a growing tendency to favor them but\\nthe French influence doubtless strengthened this tend-\\nency materially. The loss of inflectional endings was\\nnatural under the circumstances, for they are hard things\\nfor a foreigner to master.\\nThe Old English plural ended sometimes in -as, some-\\ntimes in -an sometimes it was formed in other ways, as\\nby modifying the root vowel. We have survivals of the\\nthree forms specified in the plurals of day, ox, and man,\\nrespectively. In French the plural was regularly formed\\nby adding s, and therefore the tendency of Normans\\nwould naturally be to favor the first of the three English\\nmodes of declension. In fact, the s form became almost\\ninvariable in Middle and Modern English, and this may\\nbe ascribed largely to French influence. So also the", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0045.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "28 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nincreased use of more and most in the comparison of\\nadjectives, and the almost total loss of gender in English\\nsubstantives, would be natural results of the foreigner s\\nconfusion of mind, although we cannot say that with-\\nout French influence they would not have occurred\\nat all.\\n15. English Dialects. In the Middle English period\\nthe language was still by no means the same throughout\\nEngland. The three principal dialects Northern, Mid-\\nland, and Southern were descended from the Northum-\\nbrian, Mercian, and West Saxon of- the Old English\\nperiod, though with so much adulteration from each\\nother and from outside that their descent is thoroughly\\nobscured. The three can by no means be defined by\\nexact geographical limits, though in a general way the\\nHumber and the Thames may be regarded as marking\\ntheir boundaries for in the same region different classes\\nof people often spoke differently, and in the speech of\\nmany there was some mixture of dialects. Neverthe-\\nless the local characteristics were striking enough, and\\nwhile comparatively few spoke a single dialect in perfect\\npurity, there were several recognized standards, and\\neach person conformed to one of them with more or less\\nstrictness. For example, in the North the usual form\\nfor we hope was we hopes, while the Midland was we\\nhopen, and the Southern we hopeth. Literature was pro-\\nduced in all three dialects, but when a northern manu-\\nscript was copied by a southern or midland clerk there\\nwas naturally some confusion of forms, and we therefore\\nhave in our extant mediaeval literature a mixture which\\nsometimes proves very puzzling.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0046.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "THE MAKING OF THE LANGUAGE 29\\nThese dialects still survive, but there is no longer a\\ntriple standard. As communication became easier, and\\neducation more general, one or another of the dialects\\nnecessarily had to take the lead. The favored one, as\\nit happened, was the Midland, and especially that variety\\nknown as East Midland. The reason for this was chiefly\\nthat London, Oxford, and Cambridge were all in the\\neastern midland counties, and the court and the univer-\\nsities thus combined to fix a standard for educated men.\\nWell-defined dialects of English are still spoken in\\nYorkshire, Somersetshire, Dorsetshire, and elsewhere,\\nbut only by the less educated classes. In America the\\nold dialects hardly exist at all, for a Yorkshire immigrant\\ndoes not generally settle among neighbors who speak\\nlike himself and his children, in consequence, are not\\nlimited to his dialect. Most native Americans, therefore,\\ntalk substantially alike, but two uneducated workingmen\\nfrom opposite corners of England can hardly understand\\neach other.\\nThe northern dialect has had a more illustrious his-\\ntory than the southern, fcrr it developed into what we\\nnow call Scotch. This, of course, is very different from\\nthe Gaelic of the Scotch Highlands, which is a Celtic\\nlanguage. Scotch is not a distinct language at all, but\\na dialect of English. The reason why it has maintained\\nsuch a comparatively independent position is that Scot-\\nland until 1603 was a separate kingdom. As East Mid-\\nland attained supremacy over the other dialects, it\\ngradually became the standard speech in England north\\nof the Humber but across the Scottish border there\\nwas a separate national life, and the influences of London,", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0047.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "30 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nOxford, and Cambridge were hardly felt. The Scotch\\npeople of the fifteenth century called their language Eng-\\nlish, and it had as good a right to the name as the English\\nof England. It was only upon the union of the kingdoms\\nthat the northern dialect lost its independent position.\\nUntil Shakespeare s time any Scotchman who wrote a\\nbook would naturally use his own form of the language.\\nNow it is hardly written at all, except to give local color\\nin songs or novels, or for other special purposes.\\n16. Miscellaneous Foreign Influences. The great major-\\nity of words in the dictionary are foreign-born, but the\\nnative words are the blood and bone of the language.\\nWith the exception of the mediaeval French influence,\\nalready pointed out, no foreign influence has materially\\naffected its spirit. An enormous number of compara-\\ntively recent borrowings, such as czar^ banyan^ caoitt-\\nckouc, help to swell our vocabulary, but the real genius\\nof the language owes nothing to Poland, Hindustan, or\\nSouth America and a similar assertion might be made,\\nthough with less absolute truth, of the learned and scien-\\ntific words from Greek and Latin, such as electricity^\\nlocom otive, cryptogram\\nThere are two languages, however, which we should\\nexpect to find exerting a considerable influence on our\\nown, namely, the Celtic language of the early Britons\\nand the Old Norse. Many efforts have been made to\\nidentify the Celtic elements in English, and there are\\nlong lists of English words which have their analogues\\nin Welsh, or Gaelic, or even Irish. Among these are\\nbasket^ garter^ button, pail, gozvn, pot, bug and it is\\nargued that when the English conquered the Celts the", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0048.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "THE MAKING OF THE LANGUAGE 3 1\\nlatter lived among them only as slaves or wives, and these\\nare just the sort of words that would be likely, under\\nthose circumstances, to creep in. In fact, however, it\\nis generally impossible to prove that such words were\\nnot borrowed by the Celts from the English their mere\\npresence in two languages proves nothing. Moreover,\\nthey may have come down in both languages from the\\noriginal Indo-European. The proportion of words that\\ncan be proved to have come to us from the early Britons\\nis infinitesimal. The Celtic languages seem somehow to\\nhave been made of very perishable stuff, for that spoken\\nin Gaul also disappeared almost entirely under the Roman\\nrule.\\nWith Old Norse, the language of the early Danes, the\\ncase is somewhat different. Several hundred words\\nwere undoubtedly contributed from this source, and they\\nare words which count, for they are of the homely,\\neveryday sort. There is, however, great difficulty in\\nidentifying them. The Danes settled chiefly in the\\nnorth, and the influence of Old Norse was therefore\\nexerted chiefly on the northern dialect of Old English.\\nSince, therefore, almost all the extant specimens of Old\\nEnglish are in West Saxon, it is only in the Middle\\nEnglish period, some three centuries or more after their\\nintroduction, that these words become very conspicuous\\nin our literature. Moreover, Old Norse and Old Eng-\\nlish were closely related languages, and therefore, when\\nwe find in a thirteenth-century writer a word that was\\nunquestionably good Norse, we cannot always be sure\\nthat it was not good Old English also it may be a mere\\nchance that no early West Saxon writer put it in a book.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0049.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "CHAPTER III\\nOLD ENGLISH LITERATURE\\n17. Widsith. About the time of the Norman Con-\\nquest, a certain Bishop of Exeter presented to his\\ncathedral a valuable collection of manuscript poems,\\nall fastened together in the form of one book. This\\ncollection is still extant under the name of the Exeter\\nBook, although it has suffered considerably from water\\nand fire, and it is one of our chief sources of information\\nabout Old English. Concerning some of the poems\\nwhich it contains, we have knowledge from other\\nsources also, so that we can name their authors and\\nfix their dates but many of them are known to us\\nsolely by their inclusion in this book.\\nOne of the latter, a poem of 143 lines, begins with\\nthe words **Wldsl5 ma^olade, wordhord onleac\\nthat is, Widsith spoke, unlocked (his) word-hoard.\\nThe first word is evidently used as a proper name, but\\nit seems to mean Wide-way, or (more intelligibly)\\nthe far-traveler. After a few introductory lines we\\ncome to what Widsith said, and the rest of the poem is\\nin the first person. It gives a rather unliterary cata-\\nlogue of persons and places that Widsith has visited.\\nAmong others, he visited Hermanric, king of the Goths,\\nand received hospitable treatment at his hands. Now\\nHermanric, the king of the Ostrogoths, died in 376\\n32", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0050.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "OLD ENGLISH LITERATURE 33\\nand the first permanent settlement of the EngUsh in\\nEngland was not till 449. It looks, therefore, as if we\\nhad in Widsith s song a relic of continental English\\nliterature. The introductory lines above referred to\\nare consistent with this view, for, in giving a brief\\naccount of Widsith, before the actual unlocking of his\\nword-hoard, they say that he was born among the\\nMyrgings, and for his first journey sought the home of\\nthe fierce king Hermanric, to the east of Ongle. It\\nis hard to say who the Myrgings were, but Ongle\\nseems to be Anglia, and may well designate the original\\nhome of the Angles.\\nThere are, however, difficulties about this explanation.\\nWidsith mentions a certain Theodoric, king of the\\nFranks, who did not succeed to the throne till 511. It\\nis obviously impossible that the same person could visit\\nHermanric and mention Theodoric, and we therefore\\nsee that the story of Widsith either is fictitious or has\\nsuffered from late interpolations.\\nThe latter alternative is easy to accept. The profes-\\nsional poets of the early English were wandering min-\\nstrels, who played their harps and chanted their poems\\nin the halls of their entertainers. Their songs were\\nsometimes original, sometimes learned from others. If\\nwe assume that Widsith was a real poet, who achieved\\nfame before the English came to England that the\\nintroductory lines of the extant poem are merely a set-\\nting given to one of his songs by a later poet who\\nrevered his memory and that in oral transmission for\\nmany generations, while the real spirit of the song was\\npreserved, it became confused in matters of detail if", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0051.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "34 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nwe assume all this, we assume what we cannot prove,\\nbut all is well within the limits of probability. We\\nmay at least feel reasonably certain that the nu-\\ncleus of Widsith s song is older than the invasion\\nof England that it is indeed one of the oldest, and\\nperhaps the very oldest, of extant specimens of\\nEnglish literature.\\nThe poem itself contains evidence of the mode of life\\nof the poet. The introduction tells us that Widsith was\\nthe greatest of travelers, and that he often received\\nvaluable gifts in the hall; and the body of the poem\\nsays, I was among the Burgundians, where I received\\na bracelet there Guthere gave me welcome treasure\\nto reward my song; no careless king was he. The\\nconcluding sentiment comes appropriately from the lips\\nof such a man\\nThus poets wander over the world,\\nWith songs of grief or grateful praises\\nAnd some they see in south or north,\\nLovers of song, largesse-givers,\\nWho are willing to win the highest praise\\nAbove their peers, until all things pass,\\nLife and light together they who love renown\\nHave under heaven the highest glory.\\n18. Beowulf. The most important monument of\\nOld English literature is Beowulf, an epic poem of 3183\\nlines. This, like Widsith, exists in only one manuscript,\\nand our knowledge of its origin and history must\\nbe obtained from internal evidence. The manuscript\\nappears to have been written early in the tenth century.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0052.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "OLD ENGLISH LITERATURE 35\\nThe poem itself is certainly much older than that, but it\\nis not possible to fix its age exactly.\\nBeowulf is the name of the hero, and the epic con-\\ntains an account of two periods in his life. The first\\npart deals with his fight with a strange monster, Gren-\\ndel. This creature had been for many years preying\\nupon the warriors of the good king Hrothgar, enter-\\ning his hall by night and dragging them away to be\\ndevoured in the wilderness. Beowulf comes from over\\nthe sea, undertakes to sleep in the hall, and when Gren-\\ndel enters grapples with him. Weapons are useless\\nagainst the monster, but Beowulf in the fight tears\\noff his arm, and Grendel rushes away to die. After\\nrejoicing and thanksgiving, Grendel s mother appears\\nseeking vengeance, and Beowulf s heroism, again put\\nto the proof, is again triumphant. The latter part of\\nthe poem deals with Beowulf in his old age, after he\\nhas become king in his own land across the sea. A\\nfiery dragon is ravaging the land, and the aged warrior\\nseeks him in his lair. He kills the dragon, but is\\nhimself fatally hurt.\\nThe latter part of the poem is supposed to be based\\nupon a solar myth in other words, it is thought that\\nthe fight with the dragon represents the struggle of the\\nsummer s warmth with the winter s storms, showing how\\nsummer wins a victory for the moment, but eventually\\npasses away. Myths of this character are certainly\\ncommon among primitive peoples, and perhaps they are\\nbased upon natural phenomena but however that may\\nbe, it seems likely that there is some foundation in fact\\nfor the story of Beowulf. The most generally accepted", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0053.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "36 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\ntheory is that the hero was a real person, and that the\\nepic is founded upon his actual deeds. Tradition, of\\ncourse, greatly exaggerated those deeds and perhaps\\nthe exaggerated tales about Beowulf, the slayer of mon-\\nsters, became somehow confused in the minds of our\\nforefathers with the old allegorical tale about winter and\\nsummer. Theories of this kind, however, must be re-\\nceived with caution. Scholars sometimes undervalue\\nthe inventive imagination of our early story-tellers, in\\ntheir eagerness to explain literary phenomena.\\nIt is impossible to determine where or when the poem\\nwas composed. It is puzzling to find that Hrothgar s\\nhome, the scene of the first part, is apparently in Den-\\nmark, and that Beowulf s own kingdom is in Sweden.\\nThere is no mention of England, or the Angles, or the\\nSaxons. On the other hand, the epic exists only in\\nEnglish, and occasional allusions to the Christian reli-\\ngion show that it cannot have taken its present form\\nbefore the seventh century. By that time the English\\nwere well established in England, and would naturally\\nhave lost all interest in places so foreign as Denmark\\nand Sweden. It is clear that these religious allusions\\nmust be later interpolations. Perhaps the most plausible\\ntheory is that the story existed among the English in\\nthe form of several short poems when they were still on\\nthe continent, near neighbors of the Danes and Swedes\\nand that those stories, brought to England by men of\\nWidsith s profession, were pieced together at some time\\nin the eighth century by some Christian editor.\\n19. Beowulf (continued). Old English verse sounds to\\nour ears decidedly uncouth. Poetry was written in lines", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0054.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "OLD ENGLISH LITERATURE 3/\\nwith four accented syllables, and a varying number of\\nothers. Thus Beowulf begins\\nHwaet we Gar-Dena in gear-dagum\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0Seod-cyninga Srym gefrunon,\\nwhich may be imitated in Modern English as follows\\nHo of the Danes in days of yore\\nThe. proud princes we have heard the praises.\\nOne of the first two accented syllables always begins\\nwith the same sound as one of the last two. This allit-\\neration is often found in three of the syllables, and some-\\ntimes in all four. Modern scholars have found laws\\nwhich regulate the number and position of the unac-\\ncented syllables also, but to an unlearned reader they\\nlook as if they were allowed to come in at random,\\nwherever it was convenient. The verse, therefore, often\\ndoes not seem rhythmical at all, and a hasty judgment\\nwould be that our forefathers had no ear for poetry but\\nthe very fact that these matters are regulated by laws,\\nand that those laws are somewhat complicated and hard\\nfor us to grasp, shows that the early English really did\\nenjoy and appreciate their verse in a way in which we\\nourselves are unable to follow them. It is not impossi-\\nble that with the change in our language we have lost\\nsome part of the language faculty, somewhat as modern\\nraces in general have lost the classical sense for quan-\\ntity but it seems more likely that the Old English\\npoets fitted their verse somehow to their harp music,\\nand it is perhaps because we know so little about their\\nmusic that we are unable fully to understand how their\\nverse appealed to them.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0055.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "38 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nOld English poetry was often formless, inartistic in\\ngeneral structure. The story of Beowulf, as a story,\\nis not very well told. There are confusing digressions,\\nand due proportion is not always observed between the\\nimportant and the unimportant. Everything is rough-\\nhewn. The poets were fond of using unfamiliar words\\nand strange, heavy phrases, and the lumbering move-\\nment of their verse is thereby made (for our ears) still\\nmore awkward. Thus the introductory lines of Beo-\\nwulf, describing an ancestor of Hrothgar, say\\nHe waxed under welkin, throve with worship,\\nUntil each singly of the near-sitters\\nOver the whale-path had to hearken\\nAnd give tribute a good king was he.\\nThe near-sitters over the whale-path are ^neighbors\\nover the sea.\\nThe earliest poets were perhaps at their best in\\ncertain kinds of description. Here is a part of the\\naccount of the abode of Grendel and his mother, freely\\nparaphrased\\nThey dwell in a wilderness by wolves haunted.\\nWhere the fen-path winds by windy headlands\\nAnd the mountain waterfall is mist-shrouded.\\nNot many miles hence the mere standeth.\\nThere in hoary whiteness forests overhang,\\nLeaning over the water with roots interlocked.\\nAnd fires are flaming horridly on the flood,\\nA nightly wonder. No man so wise\\nOf the sons of our fathers as to fathom that depth.\\nThe hound-driven hart will not hide his head there,\\nBut yields life and breath, exhausted, on the brink.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0056.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "OLD ENGLISH LITERATURE 39\\nThe poet was evidently at home in the description of\\nwild scenery. Sontetimes he is merely sensational, but\\noften his verses have a grandeur and a gloom that are\\nlegitimately thrilling. The sea was his favorite element,\\nnot the smooth, sunshiny surface, but the thunder-\\ning, storm-swept deeps, peopled with strange horrors.\\nThe blood of the Vikings is in his poetry.\\nThe ruling sentiments of the poet or poets of Beowulf\\nseem to be that glory and honor are the highest good\\npossible to man, but that Wyrd (Fate) is the supreme\\narbiter of our destinies, and that we cannot control\\nthem. When Beowulf goes to meet the dragon in his\\nlast fight, he says, I will not flee one foot before him\\nyet it shall be decided between us as Wyrd shall allot,\\nthe supreme god of every man. This is not an orien-\\ntal fatalism there is no passive recumbency about it\\nyet its spirit is far from the spirit of Christianity, and\\nit is clear that the final editor of Beowulf, while he\\nadded Christian touches here and there, did not attempt\\nto root out the essential paganism of his original. There\\nis a high moral spirit in the poem, but the morals are\\nthose of the pagan warrior hero, not of the cloister.\\nOne other characteristic picture in the epic must be\\nnoted. The fight with GrendeFs mother took place at\\nthe bottom of the horrid pool already described. Beo-\\nwulf had said farewell to his friends on the bank and\\nplunged in. With grotesque exaggeration we are told\\nthat it took him nearly a whole day to sink to the\\nbottom, and many hours more were consumed before\\nhe won the victory and swam up to the surface. Mean-\\nwhile his friends, both the Danes with Hrothgar and", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0057.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "40 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nBeowulf s own companions from over the sea, gave him\\nup for lost.\\nThe noon-day came, they quitted the cliff.\\nThe hasty Danes, and Hrothgar homeward\\nStarted with them but the strangers sat\\nAnd gazed heart-sick at the gloomy mere,\\nWishing (not weening) ever to win\\nTheir dear lord back.\\nHere we see that with all the gloom and fierceness\\nthere is yet room for softer feeling now and then.\\nTennyson s prince might well have had the spirit of\\nBeowulf in mind when he sang ^dark and true and\\ntender is the north.\\n20. Caedmon and Bede. The earliest English poetry\\nby a known author is Caedmon s, and the earliest prose\\nwas Bede s. Caedmon died at an advanced age in 680,\\nBede being at the time in his boyhood. This was at\\nthe time of the Northumbrian kingdom s supremacy, and\\nboth these writers were Northumbrians. That kingdom\\nstood at the head of the Heptarchy in literature and\\nlearning, as well as in political and military power.\\nCaedmon s poetry is nearly all lost, but we know its\\ncharacter from Bede s account of it in his Ecclesiastical\\nHistory^ and there are still in existence a few verses\\nwhich are thought to have opened Caedmon s first\\npoem. They are substantially as follows\\nNow let us hallow the heaven s warder,\\nThe Maker s might and the thoughts of his mind,\\nThe World-father s work, how of all wonders\\nThe God of Glory made a beginning.\\n1 Compare Stopford Brooke, English Literature^ p. i8.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0058.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "OLD ENGLISH LITERATURE 4 1\\nCaedmon s muse was wholly devoted to religion. He\\ncomposed metrical paraphrases of the scriptural accounts\\nof the Creation, the Exodus, the life of Christ, and the\\nteaching of the apostles. Poems of this general char-\\nacter are still extant, and two in particular, known as\\nthe Genesis and the Exodus^ were until recently thought\\nto be Caedmon s but careful study has shown that\\ndifferent parts of these poems must have been written\\nby different authors, and that very little of them could\\npossibly have been written by Caedmon.\\nThus it appears that after the English became thor-\\noughly established in England, there was a sweeping\\nchange in the spirit of their literature. This was of\\ncourse due to the introduction of Christianity, but more\\nespecially to the introduction of monastic institutions.\\nThe time of Caedmon and Bede was just the time when\\nthe monastic system was most flourishing and pure.\\nThis was the case everywhere, but perhaps especially\\nin England. Many monasteries were founded there in\\nthe seventh century. As this work was done largely\\nby Celtic missionaries from Ireland, it is interesting to\\nnote that much of the new character in English litera-\\nture and life may reasonably be regarded as springing\\nfrom the seed sown two centuries before by St.\\nPatrick.\\nIn the turbulent dark ages, the monastery was the\\nonly place where those who loved peace and learning\\ncould find congenial surroundings. The ideal of the\\nmonastic system was plain living and high thinking, and\\nat this period the ideal was actually realized. In the\\ndaily routine of monkish labor and devotion there was a", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0059.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "42 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nrefined tranquillity not to be found beyond the monas-\\ntery walls. The monks collected and copied manu-\\nscripts, wrote the annals of their own societies or of the\\noutside world, studied and practiced music, the decora-\\ntive arts, medicine, agriculture, architecture they were\\nmissionaries to the secular world not only of religion\\nbut also of the arts and the practical sciences. Mem-\\nbers of different institutions visited one another, and\\nthus between parts of England, and between England\\nand the continent, there was a free and friendly exchange\\nof spiritual and intellectual food. The best youth of\\nthe time were irresistibly attracted to this life, and thus\\nthe highest culture and the deepest religion of the time\\nwere blended together. No wonder that in literature\\nthe Beowulfian ideal of pagan heroism dwindled some-\\nwhat before the scriptural ideal of Christian piety.\\nCsedmon was a servant in the monastery at Whitby\\nBede was a monk at Jarrow. Bede was the greatest\\nscholar of his time, and his reputation as such was\\nworld-wide. He was esteemed as master of all learning,\\nand scholars came from remote parts of the continent\\nto be taught by him. He wrote of music, rhetoric,\\ntheology, mathematics, and the applied sciences but\\nin general his works hardly belong to English literature.\\nThe monkish language all over the western world was\\nLatin, and in that language nearly all Bede s works\\nwere written. The chief of these is the Ecclesiastical\\nHistory of Britain^ the source of our knowledge of Caed-\\nmon, and of much of the history of the English people.\\nOne of Bede s latest works, however, a translation of\\npart of the Gospel of St. John, was written in English", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0060.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "OLD ENGLISH LITERATURE 43\\nfor the use of the less learned and because of this\\nwork Bede is sometimes called the father of English\\nprose. The work, however, is no longer extant, and\\nthe title is of questionable propriety.\\n21. Cynewulf. In the year 1822 a German scholar,\\ntraveling in Italy, discovered in a monastery at Vercelli\\na manuscript volume of Old English sermons and poems.\\nHow it came there is unknown but there is nothing\\nextraordinary about it, for Vercelli was a common rest-\\ning place for English pilgrims on the way to Rome.\\nThis volume (commonly known as the Vercelli Book),\\nand the Exeter Book, and the Beozvulf manuscript, and\\na manuscript of the Geitesis and the Exodits, contain\\nnearly all that remains of Old English poetry.\\nPerhaps the best poem in the Vercelli Book is that\\nknown as the Ele7ie, which describes the finding of the\\ntrue cross by the Empress Helena. The poem begins\\nby telling that the Emperor Constantine, on the eve of\\na battle with the Huns and Goths, had a vision of a\\njeweled cross above the clouds, inscribed with the\\nwords, By this sign shalt thou overcome the foe.\\nThe battle was fought and won, and then Constantine,\\nlearning for the first time what the cross was, sent his\\nmother, Helena, to the Holy Land to seek the true\\noriginal of the symbol. The true cross and the two\\ncrosses of the thieves were, T^y miraculous guidance,\\nfound side by side. All three were tested by touching\\na dead body with each in turn, and when at the third\\ntrial the corpse was brought to life, the empress knew\\nthat her search was ended.\\nNear the end of the Elene the poet gives his own", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0061.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "44 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nname in a sort of riddling acrostic. He does this by\\nthe use of certain runes, or letters of the prehistoric\\nalphabet of the English people. These letters were\\ncalled by the names of things, each name beginning\\nwith the sound designated by the corresponding rune\\nas if, for example, we called the letter a apricot, the\\nletter b bagpipe, etc. In the passage referred to,\\nthis poet simply inserts in his poem eight of these runes,\\nat intervals, instead of spelling out the words which are\\ntheir names. He is giving an account of himself, and\\nhe says that even in his prosperous days he was like a\\nfailing torch (Cen), and that the fall (Yr) of his friends\\nbrought him to sorrow (Nied) and so on in like manner\\nuntil we have spelled out the whole name Cynewulf.\\nThe poem is certainly one of great merit, and it is\\ninteresting to have even such scanty knowledge of the\\nauthor and his life as he has chosen to give us. He\\nsays that in his youth he received rich gifts in the hall\\nof his patron but sorrow and perhaps poverty came\\nupon him, and his heart was turned from the frivolities\\nof fashion and sport to the religious life. Accordingly\\nin his old age he dedicates his poetic powers to the\\ncomposition of religious poetry. This is the whole\\nsubstance of Cynewulf s autobiography, but there are\\ntwo other long poems on sacred themes which give his\\nname in the same riddling way, and we therefore know\\nthat they were written by the same man. As Cyne-\\nwulf says in the Elene that he received gifts in his\\n1 The names of some of the runes are uncertain, and consequently\\nthe precise significance of parts of this passage is disputed. The inter-\\npretation here adopted is given only for the sake of illustration.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0062.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "OLD ENGLISH LITERATURE 45\\nyouth, some scholars have thought that he was a min-\\nstrel, and that it might be possible to identify some of\\nthe secular poems which he wrote before his conversion.\\nTheir efforts have not been attended by much success.\\nThe most important work which has in this way been\\nascribed to Cynewulf s youth is a collection of riddles\\nin the Exeter Book, but the evidence connecting these\\nwith him seems very shadowy indeed it is probable\\nthat the gifts which Cynewulf says he received were\\ngiven him for his services as a warrior, not as a poet.\\nThere is enough, however, in both quantity and merit,\\nof the unquestionably genuine work of Cynewulf to\\nassure him the distinction of being the best of the Old\\nEnglish poets of whose personality we have any knowl-\\nedge. From linguistic evidence it appears that he lived\\nabout the end of the eighth century and the beginning of\\nthe ninth, and it is pretty clear that he was an inhabitant\\nof the kingdom of Mercia. This was the southernmost\\nof the two great Anglian kingdoms in the Heptarchy,\\nand it enjoyed a brief period of overlordship between\\nthe supremacy of Northumberland and that of Wessex.\\nIt seems, therefore, that in Mercia, as in Northumber-\\nland, political and literary greatness went nearly hand\\nin hand.\\nThe religious fervor of Cynewulf s poetry is unques-\\ntionable, but the inherited English love of fighting, either\\nwith men or with the elements, is perhaps more marked.\\nOne of the best passages in the Elene is the account of\\nthe empress s voyage. There the description of the\\nswelling of the sails and the buffeting of the waves\\nshows that Christianized England had not yet forgotten", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0063.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "46 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nits pagan instincts. A curious illustration of this is a\\npassage near the beginning descriptive of the battle.\\nCynewulf s model, a Latin version of the story, barely\\nstates the fact of the victory, but the English poet s\\nexpansion of the theme shows that to him this was the\\nmost congenial of topics. Here is a sentence from the\\noriginal\\nAnd he fell upon the barbarians with his army, and began\\nslaughtering them at the break of day and the barbarians\\nwere panic-stricken, and took to flight along the banks of\\nthe Danube, and a considerable multitude of them died.\\nThe following is a free paraphrase of the corresponding\\npassage in Cynewulf\\nTrumpets resounded before the troop.\\nThe raven was watching and waiting joyfully.\\nThe dewy-winged eagle saw from the distance,\\nAnd the wolf from his haunt in the desolate wood\\nHowled at the terror of death and hate.\\nArrows rained on them as they rushed together\\nShields were broken, javelins shattered.\\nAnd the sword that swayed with the swinging arm\\nCame crashing down on the death-doomed foe.\\nThey pressed on resolutely, pushing with effort.\\nThrusting with swords and swinging battle-axes,\\nAnd ever their banner was borne forward\\nWith shouts of triumph that were loud and shrill,\\nAs the heathen fell joyless on that field.\\nHastily the host of Huns fled away\\nWhen the Roman king, the fighter unconquerable.\\nThe fierce leader, lifted the cross.\\nWide was the ruin that was wrought on the heathen.\\nSome perished there in that place of death,", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0064.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "OLD ENGLISH LITERATURE 47\\nSome fled half alive to rocky fastnesses,\\nAnd won their way back to Danube s banks\\nAnd some found death in the depths of the lake-stream.\\nBut the proud victors chased the vanquished\\nFrom the day s dawning till night came down,\\nAnd with ash-darts and arrows, (fierce battle-adders).\\nThey destroyed the hateful host o^ the enemy.\\n22. Judith. In the same manuscript which contains\\nBeowulf, there is found a fragment, in 350 lines, of a\\npoem based on the apocryphal Book of Judith. It\\ntells, with some departures from the original narrative,\\nhow the Hebrew maiden cut off the head of Nebu-\\nchadnezzar s general, Holof ernes, while he was in a\\ndrunken sleep, and then aroused the Israelites to attack\\nand rout the Assyrian army. The religious spirit is\\ndominant in the piece, sometimes running to absurdity,\\nas where the Jewess is made to pray to the Saviour and\\nto the Holy Trinity but there is also present a martial\\nspirit which, as in the Ele^ie, reminds us quite as much\\nof paganism as of Christianity. The poet exults in the\\ndeed of Judith and in those of her warrior compatriots,\\nnot merely with religious fervor but also, it seems, with\\na half barbaric delight in battle for its own sake. The\\nAlmighty is not only God of Mercy, but also God of\\nHosts, Dispenser of Glory, Splendor of Kings.\\nThis same mixed character, indeed, is found in a great\\ndeal of the religious poetry of the early English. It\\nshould be remembered that even Beowulf, in which the\\npaganism is almost undiluted, was perhaps written, and\\npretty certainly rewritten, long after the monkish period\\nbegan. Whatever may have been the spirit within the", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0065.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": ",48 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nmonastery walls, outsiders were not completely won over\\nto the Gospel of Peace.\\nInasmuch as different dialects were spoken in different\\nparts of England, and as all the dialects were suffering\\ncontinuous change and development, it would seem that\\nscholars should always be able to tell, by linguistic evi-\\ndence, where and when a particular book was written.\\nThe difficulty of doing this, however, is very great. In\\nthe first .place, when a southern monk or other scribe\\ncopied a northern work, he would modify its language\\naccording to his own standard of correctness. When,\\ntherefore, we have an anonymous work existing in only\\na single manuscript, it is next to impossible to say in\\nwhat dialect it was originally written. It will be remem-\\nbered that Wessex was the last of the kingdoms to be\\nsupreme in the Heptarchy. Now this supremacy, as in\\nthe case of Northumberland and Mercia, was in literature\\nand learning as well as in political power. Northern\\nlearning disappeared before the encroachments of the\\nDanes, and we have very little left of the northern liter-\\nature except what the literary men of the later period\\nsaw fit to copy and preserve. Consequently the great\\nbulk of Old English literature, whatever its original form,\\nis preserved to us only in the West Saxon dress.\\nThe date and origin of Wi^ Judith are utterly unknown.\\nOne of the most eminent of Old English scholars thinks\\nit was by a Northumbrian poet of about Bede s time\\nanother thinks it was written more than a century later\\nin Wessex. The latter hypothesis is supported by the\\nfact that there was a Judith who was the consort of a\\nWest Saxon king, Alfred the Great s father. It is a", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0066.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "OLD ENGLISH LITERATURE 49\\nplausible conjecture that the poem is a tribute to her,\\nand that its jubilant account of the rout of the Assyrians\\nis an indirect celebration of some great victory over the\\nDanes. This conjecture, however, seems incapable of\\nproof.\\n23. JElfred and the Later Literature. The title Father\\nof English prose is more justly given to King Alfred\\nthan to Bede. Bede s translation of St. John is lost,\\nwhile voluminous works of Alfred are still extant. In\\nhis literary work, as well as in his political and military\\nrule, Alfred justifies the name of the Great. Not\\nthat he was in the ordinary sense a great writer but we\\nfind that with a wisdom beyond his generation he labored\\nfor the education and moral guidance of his subjects, as\\nwell as for their material prosperity. One of the evils of\\nthe monastic system was that it tended to confine litera-\\nture to the Latin language, and so, while advancing the\\ncause of learning, did little to extend it outside of a select\\ncircle. yElfred was in full sympathy with the highest\\ninterests of the monks, and gave them valuable assistance\\nand protection but he also earnestly desired that the\\nbest thought of the time should be brought within reach\\nof the unlearned. To this end he translated into English\\nseveral standard works on history, science, and philoso-\\nphy and he saw to it that other work of the sort was\\ndone by other hands.\\nAmong the works translated by Alfred were the\\nHistoria adversus Paganos of Orosius, a Spaniard the\\nHistoria Ecclesiastica of Bede, the Englishman and\\nthe De Consolatione PhilosopJiiae of Boethius, a Roman.\\nThe last-named is the most celebrated of the books that", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0067.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "50 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nyElfred translated. The original was written in the sixth\\ncentury by one who is sometimes called the last of\\nthe Romans. The book was the last important work\\nof genius produced by pagan Rome. It is said to have\\nbeen written in prison, where Boethius was confined on\\naccount of political animosities. It is as purely pagan a\\nwork as the De Senectute though in another and looser\\nsense it may be called, like Cicero s treatise, fairly Chris-\\ntian in spirit. Its posthumous history was remarkable,\\nfor throughout the middle ages it was regarded as a\\nmanual of religious philosophy, and its author was\\nsupposed to have been a devout Christian. It was\\nfrequently translated, and was in high repute as late\\nas the seventeenth century.\\n^Elfred s labors were a lasting benefit to England.\\nThe most prosperous period of Old English history was\\nin the century following his death, and the literature\\nof that period is abundant. The literary traditions of\\nWessex, dating from Alfred s time, survived till the\\nNorman Conquest, though sometimes interrupted by the\\nlater Danish wars. The literature of this period was\\nmostly of a religious tenor, and it indicates that England\\nunder the West Saxon kings was a civilized country in\\nwhich the best men s standards of morality were like\\nour own. Their literary art seems of an inferior order\\nwhen we compare it with the best product of modern\\ntimes but indeed literary art was not what they were\\nseeking especially to cultivate. Sermons were written,\\nand lives of saints, and school books, and (most impor-\\ntant of all) the English Chronicle, a record of contempo-\\nrary events, begun before .^Elfred s reign and continued", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0068.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "OLD ENGLISH LITERATURE 5 I\\nfrom time to time by a long series of writers down to the\\nyear 1154. Some parts of this work are very prosy\\nannals, but others are real literature, and occasionally\\nthe anonymous chronicler breaks into verse. One pas-\\nsage of poetry celebrating the victory at Brunanburh\\nin 937 has all the spirit and fire of the Viking days.\\nTennyson was sufficiently interested to translate it, and\\nthe merits of his Battle of Brunanburh are substantially\\nthose of the original.\\nThe English Chronicle nearly bridges the gap between\\nthe Old and the Middle English literatures. The most\\nbarren period in our whole literary history was the cen-\\ntury and a half following the Norman Conquest. Most\\nof the high places in both church and state were occupied\\nby Normans. The common monk and the parish priest\\nwere perhaps English, but their abbot and bishop spoke\\nFrench. There are shocking stories in the Chronicle of\\nthe oppression of the subject race stories of torture,\\nstarvation, robbery, and enslavement. The history of the\\nEnglish during this period was of course not wholly one\\nof misery, but there was enough of it in their lot to\\nprevent the growth of anything that can fairly be called\\nliterature. Whatever was written for the entertainment\\nof the ruling classes was written in French, and some of\\nthe best French literature of the twelfth century was\\nproduced on English soil. Treatises addressed primarily\\nto the learned were written in Latin. Those who wrote\\nEnglish did so either because they could write nothing\\nelse, or because those whom they wished to reach could\\nread nothing else and nearly all that has come down to\\nus from this period is of a religious and didactic character.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0069.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "52 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nDoubtless there were other kinds of work done. The\\nwandering minstrel continued to go his rounds, and a\\ngreat deal of secular poetry may have been composed by\\nhim, if not by others also but this kind of verse had little\\nchance of preservation. In the first place, it was likely\\nnot to be written down at all, for there was little advan-\\ntage in writing it and in the second place, while the\\nmonasteries were not the only places where poetry was\\ncomposed, they were the places where manuscripts were\\nmost likely to be cared for. Whatever the inmates of a\\nmonastery or other clerical institution thought fit to copy\\nand keep in their library had a slight chance of surviving\\nthe middle ages other things had in general no chance\\nat all. Furthermore, we know of instances of the wan-\\nton destruction of Old English manuscripts by Norman\\nmonks. They could not read them, and by erasing the\\nwords they could make the parchments available for\\ntheir own use. It is clear, therefore, that our knowledge\\nof the Old English literature in general must be very\\ndefective but that we know even less of the secular\\nliterature than of the religious.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0070.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "CHAPTER IV\\nTHE ROMANCES OF CHIVALRY\\n24. Asceticism. The period of mediaeval romance ex-\\ntends from the eleventh well into the fifteenth century,\\nbut romances written in the latter part of this period\\nwere mere survivals of an almost extinct fashion. It\\nwill be most convenient, therefore, to consider this whole\\nspecies of literature in a single chapter, and to return\\nafterwards to the strict chronological order of our history.\\nAs, however, the romance of chivalry was the product\\nof a peculiar state of society, it will be necessary to con-\\nsider incidentally some aspects of mediaeval life and the\\nascetic element in mediaeval religion may conveniently\\nbe considered in advance.\\nSelf-denial was the first rule of the monastic orders,\\nand a prominent feature of mediaeval religious observance\\nin general. Asceticism was, however, by no means a\\npeculiarly mediaeval institution. Sects of heathen philos-\\nophers, many centuries before the time of Christ, had\\nadvocated various forms of self-denial, such as celibacy,\\ntotal abstinence, etc. and the same sort of teaching is\\nfound in some of the later Jewish scriptures. There was\\nin general, however, this difference between the pagan\\nand the Christian ascetics that the former advocated\\nself-denial for ethical, the latter for religious, purposes.\\nThe Greek philosophers thought that by thwarting the\\n53", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0071.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "54 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nnatural promptings of the flesh they could attain to per-\\nfect virtue the recluse of the monastic period turned a\\ndeaf ear to the voices of the flesh and the world in order\\nto hear more distinctly the voice of God speaking within\\nhis own soul. Many a holy man, after wasting his body\\nwith fasting and pain, had half-feverish visions of the\\nother world, and felt himself inspired to utter prophecies\\nand to perform miracles. Many of the saints of the\\nchurch had experiences of this sort, and their lives swell\\nthe literature of the middle ages.\\nAn excellent illustration of mediaeval asceticism is\\nfound in the legendary Life of St. Alexis. This work\\nmust have been very popular throughout the later middle\\nages, for it is still extant in several languages, and in\\nversions dating from the eleventh century on. One\\nmanuscript gives the story (in fourteenth-century Eng-\\nlish) substantially as follows\\nSit still and I will tell you the story of a holy man\\nAlexis was his name. His father was Eufemian, a great\\nand good lord in Rome. This lord and his pious wife used\\nto give generously to the poor, never sitting down to their\\nown food till all who came to their door for charity had\\nfirst been satisfied. For a long time this pair were child-\\nless, but at length a son, Alexis, was sent them in response\\nto their prayers. He grew up holy and wise, and dear to\\nall hearts. His parents arranged a most advantageous\\nmarriage for him, but Alexis was so wholly given to reli-\\ngion that he regarded the happiness of wedded life with\\nhorror. Immediately after the ceremony, therefore, he fled\\nfrom home alone, without giving any intimation as to where\\nhe was going. Coming at length to a city in Syria, he\\ngave away all his money and the best of his attire, and sat", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0072.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "THE ROMANCES OF CHIVALRY 55\\ndown at a church door in common beggar s garb, resolved\\nto live on the alms of casual givers. Every one supposed\\nhim to be an ordinary mendicant.\\nMeantime the parents and the wife of Alexis were in the\\ndepths of grief. His mother said Alas, alas! and his\\nwife made moan like a dove that has lost her mate. They\\nsent messengers to all parts of the world to find him, and\\nit chanced that some of these messengers came to the very\\nplace where he was. They saw him sitting in the poor\\nmen s row, but as they could not recognize him they gave\\nhim alms and passed by. He thanked God that it was\\npermitted him to receive charity from those who had once\\nbeen his inferiors, but he did not betray himself to them\\nand so they returned to the bereaved family and reported\\nthat Alexis could not be found. He, meanwhile, remained\\nat his post by the church door in the Syrian city, humbly\\nrejoicing in his own sufferings.\\nAfter this manner of life had continued for seventeen\\nyears, an image of the Virgin, which stood inside the\\nchurch, spoke to the church-warden and commanded him\\nto bring inside the holy man who had sat so long at the door.\\nAlexis accordingly was brought to live inside the edifice,\\nand great honor was shown him because of his long life of\\npoverty. His holy nature, how^ever, would not permit him\\nto be the recipient of such attentions (even at the miracu-\\nlous bidding of the sacred image), so he fled again in search\\nof a land where he might pursue his course of religious\\nmendicancy unnoticed. Taking ship, he was driven by\\nadverse winds to Rome, his old home. Recognizing that\\nit was the will of God that had brought him hither, he\\nresolved to go to his father s house but he presented him-\\nself there not as the returned son, but still in the character\\nof a poor beggar. His father received him, without recog-\\nnizing him, and gave him a place among the recipients of\\nhis bounty; and there Alexis passed another seventeen\\nyears.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0073.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "56 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nNou Alex, as ^e habbej? i-herd,\\nis dweld in his fader 3erd\\nas a pore man.\\nIn preyere of fasting waking,\\nhe seruede lesu, heuene kyng,\\nin al fat he can.\\nSeruant3 fat were proute 3ungge\\nhim dryuen ofte to hef ingge\\nas he 3ede vp doun\\nofte-sithes brof of ffisches,\\nwater as he wessch here dissches,\\npei caste vpon his croun.\\nOf al fe schame fat fei him wrou3the\\nhe fonkede lesu, fat him bouthe,\\n3af him my3tte f erto\\nhe was f olemod in alle f inge,\\nfer-out ne my3tte no man him bringe,\\nffor nowth f ei couden do.\\nWhen Alexis felt that death was near, he wrote a full\\naccount of his life, and then died in his humble cot, with\\nhis manuscript clasped in his hand. A voice from heaven\\nbade the people seek the holy man in Eufemian s house,\\nand the Emperor, the Pope, and a great crowd of others\\ncame to the place where Alexis lay dead. Several persons\\ntried to take the manuscript, but the dead hand would not\\nlet go till the Pope himself made the attempt. Then it\\n1 The character 3 has three uses. At the beginning of a word it\\nrepresents the sound of consonantal y, in the middle of a word that of\\na strongly aspirated h^ or gh^ and at the end that of s or z. Thus 3e is\\nequivalent to ye, wrou3the to wrought, and seruant3 to servants. The\\ninitial 3 is really a softened g. The Old English form for 3e was ge\\nxor 3ede, ge-eode, etc.\\n2 The character J represents the sound of th^ and is used in some\\nmanuscripts interchangeably with\\n3 mockery. went. oftentimes. they. bought.\\ngave. meek. aught.\\n1", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0074.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "THE ROMANCES OF CHIVALRY 5/\\nreadily relinquished it. The beggar s identity was estab-\\nlished. The parents and the widow (faithful for thirty-four\\nyears) made bitter lamentation, but all marveled at the\\nextraordinary holiness of the deceased. Whoever touched\\nthe body, whether sick, halt, or blind, was straightway made\\nwhole. A tomb of gold and precious stones was reared,\\nand pilgrims thronged to the place forever after, for the\\nsake of the miraculous cures wrought there.\\nTo a certain extent the ascetic mind found compensa-\\ntion for its renunciation of earthly pleasures in a pecu-\\nliarly impassioned religious mysticism. The anchoress,\\nin her solitary cell, had visions of the heavenly Bride-\\ngroom, whose spiritual visitations instilled in her soul a\\nlove deeper than that of the flesh, which she had abjured.\\nThe monk, in addressing hymns of fervent adoration to\\nthe Virgin, appeased a craving for which the worship of\\nthe Holy Trinity could not suffice.\\nO quam sancta, quam serena,\\nquam benigna, quam amoena,\\nesse virgo creditur:\\nper quam servitus finitur,\\nporta coeli aperitur,\\net libertas redditur.\\nScores of hymns of this character have come down to\\nus from the middle ages. Many of them are mere exer-\\ncises in ingenious phrase-turning, but some show real\\nwarmth of feeling and wherever this is present, it may\\nfairly be regarded as a sort of by-product of asceticism.\\n25. Geoffrey and the French Romances. In the early\\npart of the twelfth century long narrative poems were\\nvery common in French literature. They told of the", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0075.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "58 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nchivalrous deeds of brave knights, and their heroes were\\nusually borrowed from legends either of the Trojan war,\\nor of the wars of Alexander the Great, or of the court of\\nCharlemagne. It was the development of the feudal\\nsystem that first made these romances the fashion.\\nUnder the centrifugal operation of this system, already\\ndescribed, there came into being in France a large class\\nof wealthy and powerful barons who, with their vassal\\nknights, lived in comparative isolation and independence.\\nThe romances of chivalry presented a poetic and highly\\nidealized picture of the kind of life that these men led.\\nHector, Alexander, Charlemagne, and their friends and\\ntheir foes, were represented as knights of the era of\\nfeudalism, performing impossible tasks with superhuman\\nvalor.\\nAbout the year 1 140 Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote in\\nLatin his celebrated History of the Britons {Historia\\nBritomim). This was an almost wholly mythical account\\nof the early Celtic inhabitants of Britain. It began with\\nBrut, a great-grandson of -^neas, the supposed founder\\nof the supposed British kingdom, and ran through the\\nalmost interminable line of his fabulous descendants.\\nAmong these were many who have since become well\\nknown to literature, such as Cymbeline and Tear but\\nthe greatest figure of all was King Arthur. The pre-\\ncise sources from which Geoffrey drew his stories of\\nArthur are still partly in dispute, but he must have been\\npartly indebted to traditions picked up among his Welsh\\nneighbors. They still cherished the memory of the great\\nsixth-century hero.\\nAs soon as Geoffrey s book was known, Arthur became", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0076.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "THE ROMANCES OF CHIVALRY 59\\nthe favorite hero not of the Welsh only, nor indeed of the\\nCelts, but of all literary Europe. His character, as the\\nCeltic imagination had devised it, was in some respects\\nbetter suited to the romancer s needs than any of the\\nheroes already familiar and the latter, moreover, were\\ngetting worn out. So it came about that romances in\\nprose and verse, celebrating the deeds of Arthur and his\\nmythical knights, were composed without number. The\\nfirst work was done in French, and therefore in one\\nsense does not belong to the history of our literature\\nbut the later English romances were imitations of the\\nFrench, and the joint history of romance in the two\\nlanguages is best regarded as one subject.\\nThe most illustrious of the French Arthurian poets\\nwas Chrestien of Troyes. One of his romances, the\\nConte de la Charrette (Tale of the Car), written about\\n1 1 70, demands attention as the first example of a pecu-\\nliar sort of love story which afterwards became very\\ncommon. The essentials of the tale are as follows\\nGuinevere, King Arthur s queen, was taken captive by\\nthe fierce Meliagraunce, a treacherous knight who lived in\\na distant castle. Lancelot, who was the king s most gal-\\nlant knight, but also secretly the lover of his queen, rode\\nfuriously in pursuit. Losing his horse, he was offered a\\ncar to ride in but the car was of the kind used for the\\nmeanest of criminals a sort of movable stocks. Lance-\\nlot hesitated for just one second, but then accepted the\\nconveyance. After a series of extraordinary adventures he\\nreached the castle and fought with Meliagraunce. Lance-\\nlot was getting the worst of the combat, owing to fatigue\\nand wounds previously received, when a maiden called his\\nattention to Guinevere in a window, hoping thus to cheer", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0077.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "6o EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nhim to renewed effort The effect was not what she ex-\\npected, for Lancelot was unable to keep his eyes on his\\nenemy, and so struck wildly but the maiden told him to\\nstand with Meliagraunce between himself and the window,\\nso that he might watch him and Guinevere at the same\\ntime, and by this device he was able to win the victory.\\nAfter the combat he found Guinevere in the castle, but she\\nturned her back abruptly and left the room. Lancelot\\nlanguished in despair, ignorant of the cause of his lady s\\ndispleasure, but knowing that he must have been guilty of\\nsome heinous fault. A report spread that he had died, and\\nGuinevere gave herself up to secret sorrow, resolving to\\nstarve to death. Lancelot appeared again, and Guinevere\\nthis time deigned to explain her ill-treatment of him. She\\nhad heard that when the car was offered to him he had\\nhesitated for a second, weighing the indignity for that\\nlength of time against the pain of losing her. Lancelot\\nmost humbly admitted the grievousness of his fault, and\\nprayed for forgiveness, which the queen was graciously\\npleased to grant.\\nThis story is in many ways a typical illustration of the\\nromance of chivalry, and the sentiments implied in it\\nshould be carefully noted. In the first place, love, which\\noffers the central interest in poems of this class, is of the\\nfurtive, forbidden sort. The love of husband and wife,\\nor even of persons who might just as well become hus-\\nband and wife, was no theme for a poet of this school.\\nSuch love was not love at all, as he understood it. True\\nlove requires that the lover should be always in doubt of\\nhis success, or in fear of his lady s withdrawal of favor\\nand calm marital possession would of course make this\\nimpossible. The lover must always be in a trembling,\\ntimorous attitude before his lady he is literally her", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0078.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "THE ROMANCES OF CHIVALRY 6l\\nservant, as he is often called, and she is all whim and\\ncaprice. In addition to the love story, these romances\\nof course abound in exciting adventures, but the lover s\\ngallant deeds are all for love. His heart is set on prov-\\ning by his prowess that he is worthy of love s rewards.\\nThe very word gallantry shows how inextricably blent\\nwere the ideas of love and valor for the two senses\\nwhich it now bears were in the middle ages felt as one.\\n26. The Holy Grail. Not long after Chrestien had\\nelaborated his extraordinary tissue of fancy, some of his\\nyounger contemporaries took up the Arthurian legend\\nand gave it a very different turn. Who they were it is\\nimpossible to say, for as to the authorship of many of\\nthese romances evidence is either conflicting or wholly\\nwanting. The change wrought in the spirit of the Arthur\\nlegend was the introduction of a moral element, and this\\nwas done by the invention of a new episode, the Quest\\nof the Holy Grail. The Grail, or Graal, was the vessel\\nfrom which Christ drank at the Last Supper, and in\\nwhich Joseph of Arimathea received some of the sacred\\nblood at the crucifixion. Joseph brought it with him,\\naccording to an old church legend, to Britain, and there\\nit was kept for a long time but it was finally lost, and\\nnone had been able to find it. Now it occurred to some\\nof the early romancers that this legend might well be\\nconnected with the court of King Arthur, and this was\\ndone by representing the knights of his celebrated Round\\nTable as uniting in a vow to search for the Grail until\\nit should be found again. The following extracts from\\n1 The innovation is often credited to Walter Map, who was a few\\nyears older than Chrestien.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0079.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "62 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nMalory s fifteenth-century version of the story will illus-\\ntrate the trend of the new idea. His account is based\\nupon the earlier French romances, and is better than any\\nliteral translation could be.\\nAnd thenne the kynge and al estates wente home unto\\nCamelot, and soo wente to evensonge to the grete mynster\\nand soo after upon that to souper, and every knyght sette\\nin his owne place as they were to fore hand. Thenne\\nanone they herd crakynge and cryenge of thonder that hem\\nthought the place shold alle to dryve. In the myddes of\\nthis blast entred a sonne beaume more clerer by seven\\ntymes than ever they sawe daye, and al they were alyghted\\nof the grace of the Holy Ghoost. Thenne beganne every\\nknyghte to behold other, and eyther sawe other by theire\\nsemynge fayrer than ever they sawe afore. Not for thenne\\nthere was no knyght myghte speke one word a grete whyle,\\nand soo they loked every man on other, as they had ben\\ndome. Thenne ther entred in to the halle the Holy Graile\\ncoverd with whyte samyte, but ther was none myghte see\\nhit, nor who bare hit. And there was al the halle ful-\\nfylled with good odoures, and every knyght had suche\\nmetes and drynkes as he best loved in this world. And\\nwhan the Holy Grayle had be borne thurgh the halle,\\nthenne the holy vessel departed sodenly, that they wyste\\nnot where hit becam. Thenne had they alle brethe to\\nspeke and thenne the kynge yelded thankynges to God of\\nhis good grace that he had sente them. Certes, said the\\nkynge, ^we oughte to thanke oure Lord Jhesu gretely for\\nthat he hath shewed us this daye atte reverence of this\\nhyhe feest of Pentecost. Now, said Sir Gawayn, we\\nhave ben served this daye of what metes and drynkes we\\nthoughte on, but one thynge begyled us we myght not\\nsee the Holy Grayle, it was soo precyously coverd wher-\\nfor I wil make here avowe, that to morne, withoute lenger", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0080.jp2"}, "81": {"fulltext": "THE ROMANCES OF CHIVALRY 63\\nabydyng, I shall laboure in the quest of the Sancgreal\\nthat I shalle hold me oute a twelve moneth and a day or\\nmore yf nede be, and never shalle I retorne ageyne unto\\nthe courte tyl I have sene hit more openly than hit hath\\nben sene here. And yf I may not spede, I shall retorne\\nageyne as he that maye not be ageynst the wil of our Lord\\nJhesu Cryste. Whan they of the Table Round herde Syr\\nGawayne saye so, they arose up the most party and maade\\nsuche avowes as Sire Gawayne had made.\\nSome of the knights succeeded in the quest, and some\\nfailed, each faring according to his deserts but Lance-\\nlot, the brave knight, false friend, and faithful lover, both\\nsucceeded and failed. Coming to a strange castle he\\nheard a voice telling him to enter, and he should see a\\ngreat part of his desire so he entered and found within\\na chamber whereof the door was shut and locked.\\nThenne he lystned, and herd a voyce whiche sange so\\nswetely that it semed none erthely thynge and hym\\nthoughte the voyce said, Joye and honour be to the\\nFader of Heven. Thenne Lancelot kneled doun to fore\\nthe chamber, for wel wyst he that there was the Sancgreal\\nwithin that chamber. Thenne sayd he, Fair swete Fader\\nJhesu Cryst, yf ever I dyd thyng that pleasyd the Lord,\\nfor thy pyte ne have me not in despyte for my synnes done\\nafore tyme, and that thou shewe me some thynge of that I\\nseke. And with that he sawe the chamber dore open,\\nand there came oute a grete clerenes, that the hows was as\\nbryghte as all the torches of the world had ben there. So\\ncam he to the chamber dore, and wold have entryd. And\\nanone a voyce said to hym, Flee, Launcelot, and entre not,\\nfor thou oughtest not to doo hit and yf thou entre thou\\nshalt forthynke hit. Thenne he withdrewe hym abak\\nryght hevy. Thenne loked he up in the myddes of the", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0081.jp2"}, "82": {"fulltext": "64 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nchamber, and sawe a table of sylver, and the holy vessel\\ncoverd with reed samyte, and many angels aboute hit,\\nwherof one helde a candel of waxe brennyng, and the other\\nheld a crosse and the ornementys of an aulter. Ryghte\\nsoo entryd he in to the chamber, and cam toward the table\\nof sylver, and whanne he came nyghe he felte a brethe that\\nhym thoughte hit was entremedled with fyre, whiche smote\\nhym so sore in the vysage that hym thoughte it brente his\\nvysage and there with he felle to the erthe, and had no\\npower to aryse, as he that was soo araged that had loste\\nthe power of his body, and his herynge, and his seynge.\\nThenne felte he many handes aboute him, whiche tooke\\nhym up and bare hym oute of the chamber dore, withoute\\nony amendynge of his swoune, and lefte hym there semyng\\ndede to al peple.\\nFrom the two kinds of specimens which have been\\ngiven, it is clear that the nature of the mediaeval romance\\nwas very complex. It cannot be described in a single\\nphrase. We sometimes think of the age of chivalry\\nas a time when the weaker sex was especially revered by\\nthe stronger, and pure love was the chief incentive of\\nnoble ambition but such romances as the Conte de la\\nCharrette reveal a notion of love not merely artificial to\\nthe verge of absurdity, but at bottom profoundly immoral.\\nOn the other hand, it will not do to dismiss the whole\\nromantic idea (as some are tempted to do) as a high-\\nfantastical fabrication, having no relation to the soberer\\nfeelings of the time. Such a conception seems to melt\\naway as the Grail romances are studied. The fact is\\nthat the mediaeval romances were written by many\\ndifferent men, and though they are much alike in some\\nof their romantic peculiarities, they exhibit very different", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0082.jp2"}, "83": {"fulltext": "THE ROMANCES OF CHIVALRY 65\\nattitudes toward life. The artificial fashion of chivalrous\\nlove was introduced by men whose immediate ambition\\nwas to be read by society. Now in the twelfth cen-\\ntury, society, in our sense of the word, was just beginning\\nto exist. The ladies of the courts of Europe, disciples\\nof Queen Eleanor or the Countess Marie of Champagne,\\nwere willing enough to be flattered, and a good way for\\nChrestien of Troyes to flatter them was by inventing a\\nworld of fiction in which the most valiant knights were\\nas slaves at the feet of capricious ladies but neither the\\npoet s own instincts nor the tastes of his fair readers\\nmade it necessary that he should import into his poem a\\nmorality more rigid than that of real life. On the other\\nhand, some of the romances were written by men of\\ngenuine religious feeling. They were probably men who\\nbelonged to the secular world, yet the ideals of the cloister\\nhad made a profound impression on them. Such a char-\\nacter as St. Alexis, for example, might seem to them by\\nno means exemplary, yet they would find in him some-\\nthing that they could not but venerate. When they\\ninvented the character of Sir Galahad, the virgin knight\\nwhose heart was as pure as his arm was strong, and who\\nalone succeeded in a perfect achievement of the quest,\\nthey were effecting a compromise between the ascetic\\nideal of the church and the common-sense ideal of the\\naverage sturdy layman and, moreover, they were losing\\nnone of the literary possibilities of chivalry. Their work\\ndoes in fact present to us, in poetical form, the highest\\nideal of some of the most serious men of the middle ages.\\n27. Layamon and the English Romances. One of the\\nFrench books based on Geoffrey s History was Wace s", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0083.jp2"}, "84": {"fulltext": "66\\nEARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nBru^, a versified narrative of the same series of events.\\nIt was perhaps more from this than from the Histo7da\\nBritonum itself that the succeeding romancers learned\\nwhat Geoffrey had to tell them but they doubtless had\\ndivers other authorities also, whom it is impossible now\\nto identify. Wace s poem, of course, owed its name to\\nthe mythical ancestor of the British kings.\\nAbout the year 1205 an English Brut was written.\\nThis was the work of Layamon, a parish priest of Ernley\\nin Worcestershire. The opening lines give us the best\\ninformation we have about him. Their metre should be\\nnoted. It is a relic of the Old English verse, each half-\\nline (or each line, as here printed) containing two princi-\\npal accents, and being more or less closely connected\\nwith its fellow. The poet, however, often omitted the\\nalliteration and the scribe, who attempted by marks of\\npunctuation to show which half-lines belonged together,\\nseems in consequence to have sometimes lost his way.^\\nAn preost wes on leoden\\nla3amon wes ihoten.\\nhe wes leouena Ses sone\\nli^e him beo drihten.\\n5 he wonede at ernle3e\\nat ae Selen are chirechen.\\nvppen seuarne sta} e\\nsel )?ar him J^uhte.\\non fest Radestone\\n10 }jer he bock radde.\\nHit com him on mode\\non his mern }?onke.\\nA priest was among the people\\nWho was called Layamon.\\nHe was Levenath s son\\nGracious to him be the Lord.\\nHe dwelt at Ernly,\\nAt a noble church\\nUpon Severn s bank,\\n(Well there to him it seemed),\\nFast by Radestone.\\nThere he read books.\\nIt came to him in mind,\\nAnd in his chief thought,\\n1 In the manuscript all the lines are run together, like prose. The\\nscribe s punctuation is reproduced in the following extract. Note also\\nthe equivalence of S and as, for example, in lines 4 and 48.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0084.jp2"}, "85": {"fulltext": "THE ROMANCES OF CHIVALRY\\n67\\n)?et he wolde of engle\\n|?a ae^elasn tellen.\\n15 wat heo ihoten weoren\\nwonene heo comen.\\nl?a englene londe\\naerest ahten.\\naefter j^an flode\\n20 e from drihtene com.\\nj?e al her aquelde\\nquic 2X he funde.\\nbuten noe sem\\njaphet cham.\\n25 heore four wiues:\\nJ^e mid heom weren on archen.\\nla3amon gon li^en\\nwide 3ond as leode.\\nbiwon ]?a ae Sela boc\\n30 2i he to bisne nom.\\nhe nom }?a.englisca boc\\n}?a makede seint Beda.\\nan o)?er he nom on latin\\n)?e makede seinte albin.\\n35 e feire austin\\ne fulluht broute hider in.\\nboc he nom J^e }?ridde\\nleide }?er amidden.\\n)?a makede a frenchis clerc\\n40 wace wes ihoten\\n]?e wel couJ?e writen.\\nhe hoe 3ef ]?are 3e]?elen\\nahenor J?e wes henries quene\\n}?es he3es kinges.\\n45 la3amon leide J^eos boc\\nl^a leaf wende.\\nhe heom leofliche biheold.\\nli}?e him beo drihten.\\nfej^eren he nom mid fingren\\n50 fiede on boc felle\\nba so})e word\\nsette to gadere.\\nThat he would of the English\\nThe noble lineage tell\\nWhat they were named\\nAnd whence they came,\\nWho English land\\nFirst owned\\nAfter the flood\\nWhich came from the Lord,\\nWhich quelled all here\\nThat it found alive,\\nExcept Noah and Shem,\\nJaphet and Ham,\\nAnd their four wives\\nWho with them were in the ark.\\nLayamon began to travel\\nFar among this people,\\nAnd obtained the noble books\\nWhich he for pattern took.\\nHe took the English book\\nWhich Saint Bede made\\nAnother he took in Latin,\\nWhich Saint Albin made,\\nAnd the fair Austin\\nWho brought baptism in hither.\\nThe third book he took\\nLaid it there in the midst\\nWhich a French scholar made\\nWace he was called.\\nHe could wTite well,\\nAnd he gave it to the noble\\nEleanor who was queen of Henry\\nThe high king.\\nLayamon laid down these books\\nAnd turned the leaves.\\nHe beheld them lovingly\\nGracious be the Lord to him.\\nA pen he took with fingers,\\nAnd wrote on book-skin,\\nAnd the true words\\nHe set together.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0085.jp2"}, "86": {"fulltext": "6S\\nEARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\n)?a ]pre boc\\n]?rumde to are.\\n55 Nu bidde S la3amon\\nalcne ae]?ele mon\\nfor ene almiten godd.\\net beos boc rede\\nleornia J^eos runan.\\n60 |?at he J^eos so^feste word\\nsegge to sumne.\\nfor his fader saule\\n2i hine for S brouhte.\\nfor his moder saule\\n65 i?a hine to monne iber.\\nfor his awene saule\\nJ)at hire e selre beo.\\nAmen.\\nAnd the three books\\nCompressed to one.\\nNow prayeth Layamon\\nTo every upright man\\n(For the sake of the Almighty God)\\nThat reads this book\\nAnd learns this teaching,\\nThat he these solemn words\\nSay together\\nFor his father s soul\\nThat brought him forth,\\nAnd for his mother s soul\\nThat bore him to man.\\nAnd for his own soul,\\nThat with it the better it may be.\\nAmen.\\nOf the three authorities mentioned by Layamon, it is\\nevident that he rehed chiefly upon Wace but Layamon s\\npoem, which contains 32,250 hnes, is more than twice\\nas long as Wace s ^n//, and we cannot always discover\\nany specific authority for the new material. Probably\\nLayamon s nearness to the Welsh border afforded him\\nthe same opportunity that Geoffrey had enjoyed, of\\nfirst-hand acquaintance with the Welsh legends but\\nit is also not unlikely that much of his narrative is of\\nhis own invention. He professes to be a historian, but\\nin the mediaeval mind the notions of history and romance\\nwere curiously blended and therefore when we find\\nLayamon mentioning Bede and Wace in the same\\nbreath, as equally authoritative, we need not be sur-\\nprised if we also find that he regards the authority of\\nneither as binding.\\nThe intrinsic literary merits of Layamon s Briil are\\nnot inconsiderable, but the work is important chiefly", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0086.jp2"}, "87": {"fulltext": "THE ROMANCES OF CHIVALRY 69\\nbecause of its historical position. It marks the begin-\\nning of Middle English literature. Before it, as we have\\nseen, there had for a long time been nothing of impor-\\ntance except devotional works. The Brut itself is\\ncloser to the Old English in language and metrical\\nform than to the modern but in the romantic spirit\\nwhich pervades it, in the love of a story purely as a\\nstory, it is akin to the French literature of the twelfth\\nand thirteenth centuries, and to the English of the\\nthirteenth and fourteenth.\\nFor reasons explained at the end of the last chapter,\\nthe English romances were, as a group, a century or\\nmore later than the corresponding French forms. It\\nwas but natural that most of them should be translations\\nor adaptations of French models. Some of the earliest,\\nhowever, are thought to have been originally Teutonic\\nstories. The English versions are from the French, but\\nthe French versions were themselves translated from,\\nor at least based upon, Germanic or English or Scandi-\\nnavian myths. Among these perhaps is King Horn,\\nwhich took final shape in English verse between the\\nmiddle and end of the thirteenth century. In this there\\nis none of the attenuated spirit of some of the Arthurian\\nromances, neither the half-sensual chivalry of the\\nConte de la Chan^ette, nor the half-ascetic chivalry of\\nparts of the Grail romances. Horn is a boy king exiled\\nfrom his kingdom by paynim invaders. He has mon-\\nstrous adventures in strange lands, and finally returns\\nto reconquer his inheritance. The author found more\\ndelight in the copious flow of blood than in the amenities\\nof knighthood. It is true that the element of love offers", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0087.jp2"}, "88": {"fulltext": "70 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nthe chief interest of the story, but even the love-making\\nis distinctly different from that in the Conte de la Char-\\nrette. Horn was sent for by Rymenhild, a king s\\ndaughter, and when he entered her bower,\\nRymenhild up gan stonde\\nand tok him bi f e honde\\nheo sette him on pelle\\nof wyn to drinke his fulle\\nheo makede him faire chere\\nand tok him abute f e swere.^\\nOfte heo him custe\\nso wel so hire luste.^\\nHorn, heo sede, wijmte strif\\n)m shalt haue me to ]n wif.\\nHorn, haue of me rewpe\\nand pli3t me pi trewpe.\\nHorn ]70 him bi]: 03te\\nwhat he speke mi3te,\\netc.\\nIt is to be noted, in passing, that King Horn exhibits\\na stage of transition between the Old English and the\\nmodern poetry, not only in its substance, but also in its\\nmetrical form. Each line seems to be modeled roughly\\nupon the half-line of the older poetry, for it contains two\\nimportant accented syllables, and an indeterminate num-\\nber of unaccented ones but instead of being bound\\ntogether by alliteration these lines are generally made\\nto rime. Old-fashioned alliteration is indeed common\\nin the poem, but it is not obligatory. In Layamon s\\nBrut rime is not uncommon but, as we have seen,\\nalliteration is the rule.\\n^she. 2(jais. neck. kissed, ^her. ^pleased. pity. then.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0088.jp2"}, "89": {"fulltext": "THE ROMANCES OF CHIVALRY /I\\n28. Malory s Morte Darthur. Some forty English ro-\\nmances are easily accessible in modern editions. In\\ngeneral, they were written in more or less close imitation\\nof the French fashions already described, even when\\nthey were not actual translations. They tell stories of\\nall the strange worlds of mediaeval fiction but the\\nworld of Homeric myth, or the world of Charlemagne\\nand Roland, gave no such pleasure in England as that\\nof Arthur s Round Table, and consequently most of the\\nbest English romances belong to the Arthurian cycle.\\nAmong these are Gawayne a?id the Green Knight, The\\nQuest of the Holy Grail, Lancelot of the Lake, and\\nthe Morte Arthtcr. All abound in fantastical deeds of\\nchivalrous valor. For example, in Lancelot of the Lake\\nwe are told of one of Arthur s neighbors, the mighty\\nKing Galiot, who wantonly invades Arthur s land for\\nthe purpose of reducing it to subjection. After a long\\nand fierce contest, Galiot finds that he is on the point\\nof winning an overwhelming victory but as he sees\\nthat Arthur s forces are no match for him, and that\\ntherefore there will be no great glory in such a result,\\nhe decides to withdraw for a year, to give Arthur time\\nto strengthen himself. At the year s end he somewhat\\nillogically brings back with him three times as many\\nmen as he had at first, and the struggle is renewed with\\nthe old ferocity. In both battles, of course, Lancelot\\nis the hero, and in both battles his one desire is to at-\\ntract the favorable attention of Guinevere, who watches\\nfrom the walls.\\nBut the noblest specimen of English mediaeval romance\\nis Sir Thomas Malory s Morte Darthur, written about", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0089.jp2"}, "90": {"fulltext": "72 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\n1470. This was an attempt to put into English prose\\na compendious account of all the deeds of Arthur and\\nhis knights, as related in the best of the early French\\nromances. It was a unification of the whole Arthurian\\ncycle, made long after the flourishing period of romance\\nby a knight who loved the bygone literature of chivalry,\\nand was unwilling to let it die.\\nSir Thomas Malory s compilation is not faultlessly\\nmade. It is full of inconsistencies and confusing di-\\ngressions, and where the author had his choice between\\ntwo versions of a story he sometimes chose the inferior\\none. There is little in it that shows invention, for the\\nbest incidents and characters were transferred bodily\\nfrom older books. But the author had one great gift\\nthe gift of style. His English is sometimes loose and\\noften awkward, but it is always picturesque and vivid,\\nand it makes the narrative live. It is therefore the best\\nreading for one who wants a general introduction to\\nmediaeval romance.\\nThe Morte Darthur well illustrates the complexity of\\nthe spirit of mediaeval romance. Malory reproduced the\\nmoral spirit of the court when he told the Tale of the\\nCar, and that of the cloister when he told the Quest of\\nthe Grail. Part of the time we are asked to sympathize\\nwith Lancelot and Guinevere as we should with any\\nromantic lovers, and part of the time they are penitents\\nin sackcloth and ashes. Malory took the stories as he\\nfound them, making little effort to reconcile their dis-\\ncrepancies.\\nSome idea of the way in which successive generations\\nof romancers used the materials of the Arthur legend", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0090.jp2"}, "91": {"fulltext": "THE ROMANCES OF CHIVALRY 73\\nmay be obtained by comparing several accounts of a\\nsingle incident, such as, for example, the death of the\\nking. Geoffrey of Monmouth, after describing Arthur s\\ncampaign against his sister s son, Modred, and the death\\nof the latter in the last great battle in the west, says\\nBut the renowned King Arthur was mortally wounded\\nalso; and being carried thence to the Island of Avallon\\nfor the healing of his wounds, he abdicated the crown of\\nBritain to his kinsman Constantine, son of Cador the Duke\\nof Cornwall, in the 542d year of our Lord s incarnation.\\nLayamon s account (modernized) is as follows\\nAnd Arthur was wounded with a broad war-spear.\\nFifteen dreadful wounds he had, in the least of which\\none might thrust two gloves. Then there were no more\\nleft there in that fight, of the two hundred thousand men\\nthat lay there hewn to pieces, save only Arthur the king\\nand two of his knights. Arthur was most grievously\\nwounded. There came to him a lad that was of his own\\nkin, the son of Cador, Earl of Cornwall Constantine was\\nthe lad s name, and he was dear to the king. Arthur looked\\non him as he lay on the ground, and spoke these words\\nwith sorrowful heart Constantine, thou art welcome\\nthou wert Cador s son. Here I commit to thee my king-\\ndom guard thou my Britons to the end of thy life, and\\nkeep for them all the laws that have stood in my days, and\\nall the good laws that stood in the days of Uther. And I\\nwill go to Avalun, to the fairest of all maidens, to Argante\\nthe beautiful queen of the elves and she shall make all my\\nwounds sound, and make me whole with healing draughts.\\nAnd afterwards I will come again to my kingdom and\\ndwell with the Britons with great joy.\\nEven at these words there came from the sea a little\\nboat floating with the waves, and two women therein of", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0091.jp2"}, "92": {"fulltext": "74 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nwondrous beauty and they straightway took Arthur into\\nthe boat, and gently laid him down, and so they departed.\\nThen was it accomplished as Merlin had said, that there\\nshould be measureless sorrow of Arthur s departure. But\\nthe Britons believe yet that he is alive, and dwells in.\\nAvalun with the fairest of all elves and they are still ever\\nexpecting when Arthur shall return. But there was never\\nman born, nor beloved of woman, that can truthfully say\\nmore of Arthur.\\nIn the course of the centuries that elapsed before\\nMalory gave the final mediaeval version of the story,\\nmany nev^ details were added. The subject of the\\nking s deatli, and the speculation as to his return,\\nfills two and a half chapters of the Morte Darthiir,\\nOnly the greater part of the first can be given here.\\nA, Syr Launcelot, sayd kyng Arthur, **thys day have\\nI sore myst the. Alas that ever I was ayenst the, for\\nnow have I my dethe, wherof Syr Gauwayn me warned in\\nmy dreme. Than Syr Lucan took up the kyng the one\\nparte, and Syr Bedwere the other parte, and in the lyftyng\\nthe kyng sowned, and Syr Lucan fyl in a sowne w^yth the\\nlyfte, that the parte of his guttes fyl oute of his bodye. And\\ntherwyth the noble knyghtes herte braste. And whan the\\nkyng awake, he behelde Syr Lucan how he laye fooming at\\nthe mowth, and parte of his guttes laye at his feet. Alas\\nsayd the kyng, thys is to me a ful hevy syght to see thys\\nnoble duke so deye for my sake, for he wold have holpen\\nme that had more nede of helpe than I. Alas he wold\\nnot complayne hym, hys herte was so sette to helpe me.\\nNow Jhesu have mercy upon hys soule. Than Syr Bed-\\nwere wepte for the deth of his brother. Leve thys\\nmornyng andwepyng, sayd the kyng, for al this wyl\\nnot avaylle me for wyte thou wel, and I myght lyve my\\nself, the deth of Syr Lucan wolde greve me ever more, but", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0092.jp2"}, "93": {"fulltext": "THE ROMANCES OF CHIVALRY 75\\nmy tyme hyeth fast, sayd the kyng. Therfore, sayd\\nArthur unto Syr Bedwere, take thou Excalybur, my good\\nswerde, and goo with it to yonder water syde, and whan\\nthou comest there, I charge the throwe my swerde in that\\nwater, and come ageyn and telle me what thou there seest.\\nMy lord, sayd Bedwere, your commaundement shal be\\ndoon, and lyghtly brynge you worde ageyn.\\nSo Syr Bedwere departed, and by the waye he behelde\\nthat noble swerde, that the pomel and the hafte was al of\\nprecyous stones and thenne he sayd to hym self, Yf I\\nthrowe this ryche swerde in the water, therof shal never\\ncome good, but harme and losse. And thenne Syr Bed-\\nwere hydde Excalybur under a tree. And so as sone as he\\nmyght he came ageyn unto the kyng, and sayd he had ben\\nat the water, and had throwen the swerd in to the water.\\nWhat sawe thou there? sayd the kyng. Syr, he\\nsayd, I sawe no thynge but wawes and wyndes. That\\nis untrewly sayd of the, sayd the kynge. Therfore goo\\nthou lyghtelye ageyn, and do my commaundemente as\\nthou arte to me leef and dere, spare not but throwe it in.\\nThan Syr Bedwere retorned ageyn, and took the swerde\\nin hys hande, and than hym thought synne and shame to\\nthrowe awaye that nobyl swerde and so efte he hydde the\\nswerde, and retorned ageyn and tolde to the kyng that he\\nhad ben at the water, and done his commaundemente.\\nWhat sawe thou there? sayd the kyng. Syr, he\\nsayd, I sawe no thynge but the waters wappe and wawes\\nwanne. A, traytour, untrewe, sayd kyng Arthur, now\\nhast thou betrayed me twyse. Who wold have wente that\\nthou that hast been to me so leef and dere, and thou arte\\nnamed a noble knyghte, and wold betraye me for the\\nrichesse of the swerde But now goo ageyn lyghtly, for\\nthy longe taryeng putteth me in grete jeopardye of my lyf,\\nfor I have taken colde and but yf thou do now as I byd\\nthe, yf ever I may see the I shal slee the with myn owne\\nhandes, for thou woldest for my ryche swerde see me dede.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0093.jp2"}, "94": {"fulltext": "76 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nThenne Syr Bedwere departed, and wente to the swerde,\\nand lyghtly took hit up, and wente to the water syde, and\\nthere he bounde the gyrdyl aboute the hyltes, and thenne\\nhe threwe the swerde as farre in to the water as he myght.\\nAnd there cam an arme and an hande above the water and\\nmette it, and caught it, and so shoke it thryse and braun-\\ndysshed and than vanysshed awaye the hande wyth the\\nswerde in the water. So Syr Bedwere came ageyn to the\\nkyng and tolde hym what he sawe.\\nAlas sayd the kyng, helpe me hens, for I drede me\\nI have taryed over longe. Than Syr Bedwere toke the\\nkyng upon his backe, and so wente wyth hym to that water\\nsyde, and whan they were at the water syde, evyn fast by\\nthe banke hoved a lytyl barge wyth many fayr ladyes in\\nhit, and emonge hem al was a queue, and al they had\\nblacke hoodes, and al theywepte and shryked whan they\\nsawe kyng Arthur. Now put me in to the barge, sayd\\nthe kyng and so he dyd softelye. And there receyved\\nhym thre queues wyth grete mornyng, and soo they sette\\nhem doun, and in one of their lappes kyng Arthur layed\\nhys heed, and than that queue sayd, A, dere broder, why\\nhave ye taryed so longe from me Alas this wounde on\\nyour heed hath caught overmoche colde. And soo than\\nthey rowed from the londe, and Syr Bedwere behelde all\\ntho ladyes goo from hym. Than Syr Bedwere cryed, A,\\nmy lord Arthur, what shal become of me, now ye goo from\\nme and leve me here allone emonge myn enemyes\\nComfort thy self, sayd the kyng, and doo as wel as\\nthou mayst, for in me is no truste for to truste in. For I\\nwyl in to the vale of Avylyon, to hele me of my grevous\\nwounde. And yf thou here never more of me, praye for\\nmy soule. But ever the queues and ladyes wepte and\\nshryched, that hit was pyte to here. And assone as Syr\\nBedwere had loste the syght of the baarge, he wepte and\\nwaylled, and so took the foreste.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0094.jp2"}, "95": {"fulltext": "CHAPTER V\\nTHE EARLY MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD\\n29. The Bestiary. Retracing our way to the thirteenth\\ncentury, we find that the development of the romantic\\nspirit had Httle or no effect upon the purely religious\\nliterature of England. There were paraphrases of the\\nScriptures, lives of saints, sermons, and other kinds of\\ndidactic writing, in greater abundance than before. The\\nlegend of St. Alexis has already been considered. One\\nother specimen will serve, not indeed as a type, for it is\\nunique in English literature, but as a curious illustra-\\ntion of some phases of mediaeval feeling. The Bestiaiy\\nbegins as follows\\nNatura leonis prima.\\nDe leun stant on hille,\\nand he man hunten here,\\nOSer t)urg his nese smel\\nSmake ^at he negge,\\nBi wile weie so he wile\\nTo dele nit5er wenden,\\nAUe hise fet-steppes\\nAfter him he filled,\\nDrage^ dust wit5 his stert\\n^er he dun steppet5,\\nOt5er dust oSer deu,\\nSat he ne cunne is finden,\\ndriueS dun to his den\\n^ar he him bergen wille.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0095.jp2"}, "96": {"fulltext": "78 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nIn modern English this and the Hnes immediately\\nsucceeding are as follows\\nFirst nature of the lion.\\nThe lion stands on a hill.\\nIf he hear a man hunting,\\nOr through his nose s scent\\nPerceive that he approaches,\\nBy whatsoever way he will\\nGo down to the valley.\\nAll his footsteps\\nAfter him he filleth\\nDraggeth dust with his tail\\nInto the places where he steps,\\n(Either dust or dew).\\nSo the hunter cannot find them\\nAnd so runs down to his den\\nWhere he will hide himself.\\nSecond.\\nAnother nature he hath\\nWhen he is born\\nStill lieth the lion.\\nAnd he stirreth not from sleep\\nTill the sun hath shone\\nThrice about him.\\nThen his father raiseth him\\nWith the roar that he makes.\\nT/iird.\\nThe third law hath the lion\\nWhen he lies down to sleep\\nHe shall never shut\\nThe lids of his eyes.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0096.jp2"}, "97": {"fulltext": "THE EARLY MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD 79\\nSignification of the first nature.\\nVery high is that hill\\nWhich is the kingdom of heaven.\\nOur Lord is the lion\\nWho lives there above.\\nHow when it pleased him\\nTo alight here on earth,\\nMight never devil know,\\nThough he be a clever hunter.\\nHow he came down\\nNor how he made his den\\nIn that gentle maiden,\\nMary by name.\\nWho bore him for the good of man.\\nSecond and third.\\nWhen our Lord was dead.\\nAnd buried, as his will was.\\nIn a stone still he lay\\nTill it came the third day.\\nHis Father aided him so\\nThat he rose from the dead then,\\nTo keep us alive.\\nHe waketh (so is his will)\\nAs a shepherd for his flock\\nHe is shepherd, we are sheep\\nShield us he will.\\nIf we hearken to his word\\nThat we go nowhere astray.\\nThe rest of the poem takes up a number of other\\nanirrials, points out their supposed peculiarities, and ex-\\nplains their allegorical significance. The quaintest part,\\nperhaps, is that about the elephant. He is described as", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0097.jp2"}, "98": {"fulltext": "8o EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nan Indian animal of such unwieldy build that if he ever\\nfalls down he cannot get up again without help. When\\nhe is sick he wades into deep water, which keeps him\\nhalf afloat, and when he wants to sleep he leans against\\na tree. Hunters sometimes discover which are the ele-\\nphant s favorite trees, and saw them half in two so that\\nwhen the animal comes to one of them and trustfully\\nleans against it, it yields and he falls down. Then, how-\\never, he roars aloud, and other elephants come to help\\nhim. They struggle hard, but are unsuccessful so they\\nadd their cries to his, and then a little elephant comes\\nup he pushes his head under the sufferer s side, as a\\nsort of wedge, and so raises him. Then follows the\\nsignification. Adam fell through a tree, and in his fall\\nthe whole race was lost. Man cried aloud to heaven,\\nand Moses and the prophets came, but they could not\\nraise him to his former estate but they all lifted up\\ntheir voices, and at last Christ came, and through him\\nthe redemption was accomplished.\\nThis poem aptly illustrates the unscientific credulity\\nof the mediaeval mind, and also its fondness for allegory.\\nThese two qualities are the essence of much of the\\nbeauty of mediaevalism, in the forms in which modern\\nartists have sought to revive it. In the nineteenth-\\ncentury pre-Raphaelites, for example, we find a mystical\\nfaculty for seeing in material wonders a deep spiritual\\nsignificance. In their hands mediaevalism assumes a rare\\nand genuine beauty, but they have accomplished this by\\na transformation rather than by a literal reproduction\\nof its spirit. The Bestiary illustrates not unfairly the\\nusual crudeness of the original.\\nJ", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0098.jp2"}, "99": {"fulltext": "THE EARLY MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD 8 1\\nThe origin of this poem is obscure. The ancients\\nwere fond of ascribing fabulous quaUties to animals, as\\nwe know from ^sop s fables, for example. The early\\nChristians, who had a passion for allegory, devised\\nChristian interpretations of these qualities, and in the\\ncourse of time custom established a fixed myth and a\\nfixed signification for each animal. The panther, for\\nexample, who always suggested Christ, was a beautiful\\nanimal with a sweet-scented breath. As early as the\\nfourth century a certain Christian writer, having occa-\\nsion to mention a peculiar nature of the serpent,\\ncites the physiologists as authority; from which we\\nmay infer that Bestiaries already existed. In the middle\\nages a dozen or more of them were written, in a dozen\\ndifferent languages and they were commonly spoken of\\nas written by Physiologus. Thus we read in Chaucer\\nthat\\nChauntecleer so free\\nSong merier than the mermayde in the see\\nFor Phisiologus seith sikerly\\nHow that they singen wel and merily.\\nA Latin Bestiary of the eighth century is the earliest\\nknown, but evidently not the earliest written. Of course\\nthese books were written for the instruction of the peo-\\nple and it seems pretty clear that their odd stories\\nmust have been believed. This is not so hard to under-\\nstand, when we recall the strange beliefs we ourselves\\nheld in childhood, about ear-wigs, darning-needles, horse-\\nhair snakes, etc.\\nCertainly.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0099.jp2"}, "100": {"fulltext": "82 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\n30. The Earliest Lyrics. The following song is pre-\\nserved in a manuscript in the British Museum. Its date\\nmust be about 1250.\\nSumer is icumen in, Ihude sing cuccu\\nGrowe]: sed and blowej? med and spring]? ))e wude nu\\nSing cuccu.\\nAwe blete)? after lomb, Ihou]?^ after calue cu\\nBulluc stertep,* bucke uertef murie sing, cuccu.\\nCuccu, cuccu,\\nWei singes pu, cuccu ne swik^ ])u nauer nu.\\nThe following is of slightly later date. Only the first\\nhalf of the song is given here.\\nBytuene Mershe Aueril\\nWhen spray biginnep to springe,\\n])e Intel foul haf hire wyl\\nOn hyre lud to synge\\nIch libbe in louelonginge\\nFor semlokest of alle f ynge\\nHe^^ may me blisse bringe,\\nIcham in hire baundoun.^*\\nAn hendy hap ichabbe yhent,^^\\nIchot from heuene it is me sent,\\nFrom alle wymmen mi loue is lent\\nlyht on Alysoun.\\nOn heu hire her is fayr ynoh,\\nHire browe broune, hire e3e blake\\nW^ip lossum chere he on me loh\\n1 mead. now. loweth. leapeth. runs to cover. cease.\\naccording to. voice. I. i^ye. the fairest. she.\\nI am. power. A happy fortune I have achieved. i^ I wot.\\nturned. alighted. hue. hair. ^i lovely. laughed.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0100.jp2"}, "101": {"fulltext": "THE EARLY MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD 83\\nWi]7 middel smal wel ymake\\nBote he me wolle to hire take,\\nForte buen hire owen make,^\\nLonge to lyuen ichulle forsake,\\nfeye fallen adoun.\\nAn hendy hap ichabbe yhent,\\nIchot from heuene it is me sent.\\nFrom alle wymmen mi loue is lent\\nlyht on Alysoun.\\nBoth these songs are simple and crude, but they have\\nsomething that is better than polish, namely, spontaneity.\\nThe Cuckoo Song is commonly regarded as of popular\\norigin, like our southern negro melodies, for example\\nbut the words are accompanied in the manuscript with\\nthe music, and experts say that the music is too elaborate\\nfor a true folk-song. Probably both songs were com-\\nposed by educated men, clerks, as they were commonly\\ncalled, and doubtless there were many like them which\\nno hendy hap has preserved for us. During the\\nearly Middle English period the great universities were\\nexpanding, and sending out continually greater numbers\\nof clerks. At the same time, as we shall see, the church\\nwas not extending its usefulness. Thus there came\\ninto being an increasing number of wandering clerks,\\neducated for the church but only nominally attached\\nto it. They had studied rhetoric and theology at Paris\\nand Oxford, but had observed human nature in wayside\\ntaverns and they could use the lyrical art of France\\nto give expression to the life and character of England.\\nChaucer tells us of two unbeneficed clerks one was\\n1 made. unless. for to. mate. I will. dying.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0101.jp2"}, "102": {"fulltext": "84 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\na sober and God-fearing man who spent all his slender\\nmeans on books, and cared for little beyond learning\\nand devotion but the other sang and played the psal-\\ntery, and cultivated habits of study only because they\\nhelped him to mask his worldly inclinations. With a\\nlarge and increasing leisure class of this sort, it was\\nnatural that a considerable body of secular lyrics should\\ncome into being.\\n31. Fabliau and Satire. T\\\\iQ fabliaux were a species\\nof short verse-narrative very common in France during\\nthe thirteenth century, that is, during the best period\\nof the romances of chivalry. Only one English fabliau\\nhas come down to us from this period, but that one\\nillustrates some interesting features of contemporary\\nlife. It is known as Dame Siriz^ and is substantially\\nas follows\\nThere was once a clerk named Wilekin, who fell in love\\nwith a married woman, Margeri. He called on her once\\nwhen her husband had gone to town on business, told her\\nhow for many a year he had been pining for her, and\\nbegged her to accept his love. She assured him with\\nemphatic vows that she would, not think of such a thing\\nfor a moment that she and her husband were very happy\\ntogether, and that she was not the kind of w^oman to\\ndeceive him. Wilekin accordingly went away heavy at\\nheart but it occurred to him that the wise witch. Dame\\nSiriz, might help him. He called on her, therefore, and\\nbesought her with fair speech to use some of her charms to\\nturn the heart of the fair Margeri. The old hag assumed\\nat first an air of virtuous indignation, protesting that she\\nwas a holy woman, ignorant of all the arts of witchcraft,\\nand devoted to alms-deeds and prayer. When, however,\\nWilekin offered her a pair of shoes, some warm furs, and", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0102.jp2"}, "103": {"fulltext": "THE EARLY MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD 85\\nmoney to boot, she decided that she could conscientiously\\ninterfere in his behalf. Accordingly she calls her dog,\\nputs pepper in its eyes and mustard in its mouth, and takes\\nit to the house of Margeri. There she begs for food and\\ndrink, and after the good wife has supplied her wants she\\nbursts into tears. Poor woman, said Margeri, **what\\naileth thee? **Alas, replied the witch, I had a beau-\\ntiful daughter a lovelier girl no man ever saw and she\\nwas married to an excellent husband whom she loved all\\ntoo well. One day when he had gone out there came a\\ntonsured clerk and offered her his love, but she would\\nhave none of him and then he wrought an enchantment\\nupon her, and turned her into a dog. This is my daughter\\nthat I am telling you about see how her eyes water, and\\nhow the tears flow down her cheeks. No wonder, then,\\nthat my heart is burst asunder. And any young wife to\\nwhom a clerk offers his love must care very little for her\\nlife if she does not accept his offer straightway. There-\\nupon the simple young woman is in terror lest a similar\\nmischance befall her, and she begs Dame Siriz to find\\nWilekin and bring him back to her. When he comes she\\nsays, Welcome, Wilekin, sweet thing; thou art more wel-\\ncome than the king. I have changed my mind, and would\\nnot for anything have you suffer. And so they are recon-\\nciled, and Danie Siriz leaves them happy in each other s love.\\nThe Vox and the Wolf, a poem of some 300 lines\\nv^ritten about the year 1300, may v^ell be classed v^ith\\nDame Siriz, although strictly it is not a fabliau. That\\nname is commonly reserved for comic stories about\\ncommon people. The Vox and the Wolf is a version of\\npart of the great French pseudo-epic which celebrated\\nthe deeds of Reynard the Fox but in spirit, as we shall\\nsee, it has more of the fabliau than of the epic or the\\nromance.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0103.jp2"}, "104": {"fulltext": "86 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nA fox came from the woods, half dead with hunger.\\nHe did not walk along the street, for he disliked meeting\\nmen he would rather have met one hen than fifty women.\\nSo he skulked along till he came to a house in which there\\nwere five hens and a cock. The cock had flown up to his\\nroost, and two of the hens sat near him. *Fox, said the\\ncock, what dost thou there Curse you, go home. You\\nare always making trouble with our hens. For heaven s\\nsake, be still. (Here the narrative is a little confusing,\\nbut apparently the fox eats one or more of the hens.)\\nThen quoth the fox, Sir Chanticleer, come down here. I\\nhave only been doing your hens a kindness I have let\\ntheir blood they had a disease under the rib, and would\\nhave died if I had not bled them. Come down, for you\\nhave the same trouble in the spleen, and you have but a\\nshort time to live. I must either bleed you, or go for the\\npriest.\\nBut the cock was proof against his blandishments and\\nthe fox had to rest content with the prey already seized.\\nNow, however, he began to suffer the torments of thirst,\\nand sought a well. There was one close by, with two\\nbuckets so attached that when one went up the other went\\ndown. Not understanding the contrivance, the fox jumped\\ninto the upper bucket, hoping to find water there and\\ndown it went with him to the bottom. There was water\\nenough down there, to be sure, and he drank his fill, but\\nyet he was not easy in his mind, and he straightway began\\nto repent of his sins.\\nJust then a wolf came by, seeking something to allay\\nthe pangs of hunger, and sat down for a moment by the\\nwell. The fox knew him by his howl, for they were near\\nneighbors. Ah, Sigrim, he cried, how I wish you were\\nhere with me! With you! said the wolf; what\\nshould I be doing in the pit You are unwise, replied\\nthe fox here is the bliss of paradise here I have ever-\\nlasting happiness in prospect, without pain or sorrow.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0104.jp2"}, "105": {"fulltext": "THE EARLY MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD 8/\\nHere are meat and drink, and bliss without labor here is\\nno more hunger, nor any other woe. The wolf laughed.\\n^^Are you dead, said he, or alive? Why should I\\ncare to be alive replied the fox why live in the filthy\\nand sinful world, when there are all sorts of joys here\\nThere are sheep and goats down here. This last was too\\nmuch for the wolf, and he begged the fox to show him\\nthe way thither. The fox accordingly required him to\\nshrive himself (Reynard acting as father confessor), and\\nafter the wolf had given a humiliating account of his sins,\\nthe fox directed him to get into the bucket that he saw at\\nthe top of the well.\\nSo down went the wolf, and when he was halfway down\\nhe was surprised to see the fox going up. What now.\\nGossip, said the wolf, whither wilt I am going up,\\nsaid the fox go you down, and take what you can find\\nthere. I am heartily glad that you have repented and con-\\nfessed. I will have your knell rung, and masses sung for\\nyour soul. So the fox ran away, and the wolf remained\\nat the bottom, cursing. In the morning a friar came to the\\nwell to draw water, and found the bucket heavy enough.\\nWhen he had drawn it nearly to the top he saw the wolf,\\nand cried, The devil is in the pit Thereupon his\\nbrethren came with pikes and staves and stones, and the\\nwolf was done to death.\\nOne other specimen of the comic literature of the time\\nwill suffice. This is TJie Land of Cokaygne, an English\\nversion of a satirical fantasy current in many languages\\nin the thirteenth century. The English poem is perhaps\\nas late as 1300.\\nFur in see bi west Spayngne\\nIs a lond ihote Cokaygne.\\nfer nis lond under heuen-riche^\\n1 is not. heaven s kingdom.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0105.jp2"}, "106": {"fulltext": "88 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nOf wel, of godnis, hit iliche\\n])0^ paradis be miri and bri3t,\\nCokaygn is of fairir si3t.\\nWhat is per in paradis\\nBot grasse and flure and grene ris\\nBe]) er no man but two,\\nHely and Enok also\\nElinglich^ may hi^ go,\\nWhar fer wonip^ men no mo.\\nIn Cokaygne is met and drink\\nWifute care, how, and swink.^\\nEverything good is plentiful. There are no snakes, fleas,\\nrainstorms or diseases and water is used only to swim in,\\nor to beautify the landscape. Rivers are generally of milk,\\nhoney, and wine. In this land there is a beautiful abbey.\\nIts walls are all of pasties, fish, and meat the shingles are\\npan-cakes and the turrets are puddings. There are charm-\\ning song-birds to delight the ear day and night, and geese\\nfly ready roasted on the spit, crying, geese all hot, all\\nhot. Smaller fowl, broiled and seasoned, fly right into a\\nman s mouth when he wants them.\\nThe young monks go out to play every afternoon. They\\nspread out their broad sleeves and their hoods for wings,\\nand fly through the air like any bird, and the abbot delights\\nto watch them. When it is time for evensong he makes a\\nloud noise by spanking some young novice and the monks,\\nhearing the sound, come gleefully back. They merrily join\\nin the spanking, and then go meekly in for their evening\\nservice and their evening drink.\\nThere are other occupations in this abbey, of a more\\ndegraded nature. Whoever proves himself best adapted\\n1 like. 2 branches. Elijah. sorrowfully. they. dwell.\\ntrouble. toil.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0106.jp2"}, "107": {"fulltext": "THE EARLY MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD 89\\nto the life, and devotes himself with most singleness of\\npurpose to fleshly enjoyments, will eventually rise to be\\nthe father abbot.\\nThe man who wants to reach this blissful land must\\nfirst do a long penance he must wallow for seven years in\\nthe filth of a pig-sty, buried up to the chin. So shall he\\nearn his passage.\\nIt is important to observe that all these poems were\\nwritten in the romantic period yet their authors atti-\\ntude towards life is diametrically opposite to that of the\\nromancers. Love, instead of being a kind of idolatry, is\\na game played with false cards. Saintliness is all hum-\\nbug, and holy men are rascals. Women are harmless\\nonly if they are stupid generally they are clever, deceit-\\nful creatures, unworthy of confidence and incapable of\\nconstancy, and men are their dupes.\\nAll this is expressed not in bitterness, but with the\\ngay good-humor of a man who has too little sensibility\\nto be a cynic. Most of the fablianx are hardly satirical\\nat all in intent. In Dame Siriz, for example, the author\\ngives us in effect a trenchant satire upon some of the\\nthings that were sacred to the romancers but his pur-\\npose was doubtless merely to tell an amusing story,\\npresenting life as he saw it. The satire in The Vox\\nand the Wo (f is equally unconscious. In The Land of\\nCokaygne there is of course a deliberate intent to satirize\\nthe regular clergy, and the utter lack of spirituality in\\nmuch of what passed for religion but (except perhaps\\nin the last lines of the poem) we see little evidence of\\nany strength of feeling. Whatever is, is so let us\\nlaugh and be merry at everything.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0107.jp2"}, "108": {"fulltext": "90 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nThe difference in spirit between these poems and the\\nromances is easy to explain. The fabliaux were com-\\nmonly composed for the middle classes the bourgeois\\nelement. Political and economic causes were, in the\\nthirteenth century, bringing these people forward to a\\nmore active participation in affairs and they had to\\nhave their literature, too. In the hall of the baron the\\nromancer chanted his romance but the master-carpen-\\nter, loafing at the ale-house, would prefer to hear a\\nfabliau recited, and some twopenny jongleur would\\nalways be ready to gratify him. The fabliaux were cer-\\ntainly not above the average level of mediaeval sentiment\\nand morality they probably bore about the same rela-\\ntion to life as the comic songs of our own variety stage,\\nand they must not be taken too seriously as a revelation\\nof contemporary feeling. But their existence, side by\\nside with the romances of chivalry, strengthens the argu-\\nment that the latter, in their semi-deification of love and\\ntheir seemingly reverential attitude towards woman, were\\nlittle more than a caprice of fashion that instead of\\npresenting seriously the attitude of serious men toward\\nlife, they were in this respect merely a literary artifice.\\nA glimpse is given in these poems of the darker side\\nof mediaeval religion. Before the period that we have\\nreached, monasticism had gone into a lamentable deca-\\ndence. It was a natural result of the attractiveness of\\nmonastery life that many men dedicated themselves to\\nit with motives not primarily religious. Partly for this\\nreason, and partly because of a tendency of human na-\\nture which seems inevitable, when responsibility and\\ncompetition are removed, monastic austerity too often", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0108.jp2"}, "109": {"fulltext": "THE EARLY MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD 9 1\\nyielded place to monastic luxury, continence to corrup-\\ntion, altruism to rapacity. Of course no sweeping con-\\ndemnation must be passed upon all the monasteries of\\nthe period. New orders were continually founded, with\\nnew rules of self-denial and holiness scores of them\\nare known to history but the chief cause of the great\\nnumber of new foundations was the short-lived purity\\nof many of the old ones. Moreover, the secular clergy\\n(i.e., the clergy not attached to religious establishments,\\nas were the monks, friars, etc.) shared to a great extent\\nin the corruptions of the regular brethren. In the later\\nmiddle ages the parish priest becomes a target for satire\\nas well as the monk the bishop only less often than\\nthe abbot.\\n32. Richard Rolle of Hampole. Richard Rolle was born\\nat Thornton, in Yorkshire, near the end of the thirteenth\\ncentury, and died in the year 1349 at Hampole, near\\nDoncaster. He was educated at Oxford, but at the age\\nof nineteen left the university and his home to assume\\nthe garb and manner of a hermit. His life thereafter\\nwas partly that of a recluse and partly that of a wander-\\ning preacher, as the spirit moved him. In his solitary\\ncell he fasted and prayed, and wrote voluminous works\\nin prose and verse. In his other capacity he was one of\\nthe most influential men of the time. He had a power\\nover others which his words alone do not account for.\\nHe was evidently a holy man, not one of the sham\\nreligious tramps so common in the fourteenth century,\\nand his eloquence was abetted by the power of a strong\\nand pure personality. He was reputed to have the power\\nof performing miracles, and it is clear that he believed", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0109.jp2"}, "110": {"fulltext": "92 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nhimself to have it. He had an active mind, but not a\\nspeculative one. Consequently we find him one of the\\nstrongest exponents of mediaeval Catholicism. He ac-\\ncepted the doctrines of the church without question, and\\npreached them with vigor and in his long poem. The\\nPricke of Conscience^ we can see the faith of the middle\\nages in its purest form. The following extracts are\\nselected less for their doctrinal interest than as illustra-\\ntions of the practical working of mediaeval religion in the\\nmediaeval mind.\\nThe begifining of man s life.)\\n[When man] was born til f is werldys light\\n465 He ne had nouther strenthe ne myght,\\nNouther to ga ne yhit to stand,\\nNe to crepe with fote, ne with hand.\\npan has a man less myght fan a beste\\nWhen he is born, and is sene leste\\n470 For a best when it es born, may ga\\nAls-tite aftir, and ryn to and fra\\nBot a man has na myght f ar-to.\\nWhen he es born, swa to do\\nFor ]?an may he noght stande ne crepe\\n475 Bot ligge^ and sprawel, and cry and wepCo\\nFor unnethes es a child born fully\\npat it ne bygynnes to goule and cry\\nAnd by fat cry men knaw fan\\nWhether it be man or weman,\\n480 For when it es born it cryes swa\\nIf it be man it says a. a,\\npat f e first letter es of fe nam\\nOf our forme-fader Adam.\\n1 to. 2 go^ walk. straightway. no. so. lie.\\nhardly. so.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0110.jp2"}, "111": {"fulltext": "THE EARLY MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD 93\\nAnd if ])e child a woman be,\\n485 When it es born it says e. e/\\nE es fe first letter and fe hede\\nOf fe name of Eve fat bygan our dede.^\\nparfor a clerk made on fis manere\\npis vers of metre fat es wreten here\\nHe says, al er we born gretand,^\\nAnd makand a sorowful sembland.\\nFor to shew f e grete wrechednes\\n505 Of our kynd fat in us es.\\n(T/ie nature of the mature man,^\\npe bygynnyng of man, als I talde,\\nEs vile and wreched to behalde\\nBot how foule es man aftir-warde\\nTels fus, openly, saynt Bernarde\\n560 Homo nihil aliud est, quam sperma\\nfetidum, saccus stercorum et esca vermium,\\nSaynt Bernard says als fe buke telles,\\npat man here es nathyng elles\\nBot a foule slyme, wlatsome til men,\\n565 And a sekful of stynkand fen,\\nAnd wormes fode fat fai wald have.\\nWhen he es dede and layde in grave.\\nBot som men and women fayre semes\\nTo fe syght with-outen, als men demes,\\n570 And fat shewes noght elles bot a skyn\\nBot wha-swa moght se fam with-in.\\nFouler carion moght never be\\npan he suld fan of fam se.\\nparfor he fat had als sharp syght,\\n1 death. 2 weeping. making. as. loathsome.\\nsackful. dirt.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0111.jp2"}, "112": {"fulltext": "94 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\n575 And cler eghen and als bright\\nAls has a best fat men Lynx calles,\\npat may se thurgh thik stane walles,\\nLittel lykyng suld a man haf fan\\nFor to behald a faire woman,\\n580 For fan mught he se, with-outen doute,\\nAls wele with-in als with-oute.\\nAnd if he with-in saw hir right,\\nSho war ful wlatsom til his sight\\npus foul with-in ilk man es,\\n585 Als fe buk says and bers witnes.\\n{The certainty of death\\n880 For in fis world es nane swa witty,\\nSwa fair, swa Strang, ne swa myghty,\\nEmperour, kyng, duke, ne caysere,\\nNe other fat bers grete state here,\\nNe riche, ne pure, bond ne fre,\\n885 Lered^ or lawed,^ what-swa he be,\\npat he ne sal turne at fe last oway.\\nTil poudre and erthe and vyle clay\\nAnd wormes sal ryve hym in sondre\\nAnd f arfor haf I mykel wondere\\n890 pat unnethes any man wille se\\nWhat he was, and what he sal be.\\nBot wha-so wald in hert cast\\nWhat he was, and sal be at fe last.\\nAnd what he es, whyles he lyves here,\\n895 He suld fynd ful litel matere\\nTo mak ioy whilles he here duelles,\\nAls a versifiour in metre f us telles\\nSi giiis sentiret^ quo tendit^ et unde veniret^\\nNufiqicam gauderet, sed in omne tempore fle et,\\n1 eyes. 2 she. ga^h. learned. lewd,\\nmuch, great. hardly.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0112.jp2"}, "113": {"fulltext": "THE EARLY MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD 95\\n900 He says, wha-so wille fele and se,\\nWethen he com and whider sal he,\\nSuld never be blythe hot ioy forsake,\\nAnd alle tyme grete and sorow make.\\nWhar-to ]?an es man here swa myry,\\n905 And swa tendre of his vile body,\\npat sal rote and with wormes be gnawen.\\nAnd swa ugly to syght may be knawen\\n(The pains of death\\npus sal dede visite ilk man,\\nAnd yhit na man discryve it can.\\nFor here lyves nan,^ under hevenryke,^\\npat can telle til what pe ded es lyke.\\n1900 Bot fe payn of dede fat al sal fele\\nA philosopher fus discrived wele\\nFor he lykend mans lyf til a tre\\npat war growand,^ if it swa mught be,\\nThurgh a mans hert and swa shuld sprynge,\\n1905 pat obout war lapped with fe hert strynge.\\nAnd ];e croppe out at his mouth mught shote,\\nAnd to ilka ioynt war fested a rote\\nAnd ilka vayne of pe mans body\\nHad a rote festend fast parby,\\n1910 And in ilka taa and fynger of hand\\nWar a rote fra pat tre growand\\nAnd ilka lym on ilka syde\\nWith rotes of pat tre war occupyde\\nYf pat tre war tite^ pulled cute\\n1915 At a titte^ with al pe rotes oboute,\\npe rotes suld pan rayse par-with\\nIlka vayn and ilka synoghe and lith.^\\n1 weep. 2 describe. none. the kingdom of heaven. growing.\\ntop. suddenly. on a sudden. limb.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0113.jp2"}, "114": {"fulltext": "96 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nA mare payne couthe na man in hert cast\\npan ))is war, als lang als it suld last.\\n1920 And yhit halde I fe payne of dede mare\\nAnd mare Strang and hard, fan fis payn ware.\\n2220 For when fe lyf sal pas fra a man\\nDevels sal gadir obout hym pan,\\nTo ravissche fe saul with fam away\\nTyl pyne of helle, if f ai may.\\nAls wode lyons ]?ai sal fan fare\\n2225 And raumpe on hym, and skoul, and stare.\\nAnd grymly gryn on hym and blere,*\\nAnd hydus braydes mak, hym to fere\\npai sal fande at his last endyng\\nHym in-to wanhope for to bring,\\n2230 Thurgh thretynges fat fai sal mak.\\nAnd thurgh f e ferdnes fat he sal tak.\\nFul hydus sightes fai sal shew hym\\npat his chere sal make grisly and grim,\\npat sight he sal se with gastly eghe\\n2235 With payn of dede fat he most dreghe.^^\\n{The pains of hell\\nI fynde wryten paynes fourtene,\\nThurgh whilk f e synful sal be pyned ay.\\nIn body and saul aftir domesday\\n6555 pG whilk er als general paynes of helle,\\nAnd whilk fas er I sal yhow telle.\\npe first es fire swa hate to reken\\npat na maner of thyng may it sleken.^^\\n1 greater. could. mad. leer. grimaces. terrify.\\ntry. despair. fright. countenance. eye. endure.\\n1^ which. 1* hot. 1^ quench.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0114.jp2"}, "115": {"fulltext": "THE EARLY MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD 97\\npe secunde es calde als says som,\\n6560 pat na hete of fire may overcom.\\npe thred alswa es filthe and stynk\\npat es stranger fan any hert may thynk.\\npe ferthe es hunger sharpe and Strang.\\npe fift es brynnand threst omang.^\\n6565 pe sext es swa mykel myrknes,^\\npat it may be graped, swa thik it es.\\npe sevend es pe horribel sight\\nOf e devels fat par er hydusly dight.\\npe eghtend payne es vermyn grete,\\n6570 pat pe synful men sal gnaw and frete.^\\npe neghend es dyngyng of devels hand,\\nWith melles of yren hate glowand.\\npe tend payne es gnawing with-in\\nOf conscience pat bites als vermyn.\\n6575 pe ellevend es hate teres of gretyng,^\\npat pe synful sal scalden in pe dounfallyng.\\npe twelfte es shame and shenshepe of syn\\npat pai sal haf pat never sal blyn.^\\npe prettend es bandes of fire brinnand,\\n6580 pat pai sal be bunden with fote and hand.\\npe fourtend payne despayre es cald,\\npat pe synful sal ay in hert hald.\\nAlle pir er generale paynes in helle\\nBot par er other ma pan tung may telle,\\n6585 Or hert may thynk or eer may here,\\nOf special paynes pat er sere,^^\\npe whilk many, aftir pai er worthy,\\nSal thole ever-mare in saule and body\\nBot of alle pa paynes can I noght say,\\nFor na nian pam reken ne specyfy may.\\n1 in addition. darkness. eat. beating. mallets. weep-\\ning. disgrace. cease. these. various. according\\nas. 12 suffer.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0115.jp2"}, "116": {"fulltext": "CHAPTER VI\\nTHE AGE OF CHAUCER\\n33. The Fourteenth Century. King Edward III reigned\\nfrom 1327 to 1377. When he came to the throne he\\nwas a mere boy, helpless in the hands of his mother s\\nfavorite, Robert Mortimer, and in the last years of his\\nreign he was a helpless old man, in the arms of his own\\nfavorite, Alice Ferrers. Between those periods, however,\\nthere were great days and the king and his illustrious\\nson, the Black Prince, are among the most noteworthy\\nfigures in the history of English chivalry.\\nWe are concerned chiefly with the social history of Eng-\\nland, but part of the great social development of the four-\\nteenth century was closely connected with the personal\\nachievements of the king and the prince. They were at\\nwar with France during the greater part of the reign, and\\ntheir victories at Crecy (1346) and Poitiers (1356) were\\nits most striking single events. These great victories,\\nhowever, won against tremendous numerical odds, were\\ndirectly due to developments within the English nation.\\nThe old idea of chivalry, to which France still clung, was\\nthat the knights did all the heavy fighting, while the\\npeasantry were a mere rabble whose safety or slaughter\\nwas of little consequence. At the Battle of Crecy the\\nFrench chivalry encountered the English yeomanry with\\ntheir long-bows and cloth-yard arrows, and could not get\\n98", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0116.jp2"}, "117": {"fulltext": "THE AGE OF CHAUCER 99\\nnear enough to crush them. At Poitiers King John s\\narmy of 50,000 was utterly routed by 8000 men under\\nthe Black Prince, and the victory again was due to the\\nEnglish yeomen.\\nThus military causes were helping the middle classes\\nin England to a novel prominence. Other forces, too,\\nwere doing a similar work. The parliamentary system\\nhad developed far enough to bring gentlemen and bur-\\ngesses of the towns together, with common aims and\\ninterests and the industrial system was by degrees be-\\ncoming one of employer and wage-earner instead of master\\nand villein. The villein was the small tenant who, in-\\nstead of paying money rent, gave a stated number of\\ndays labor to the tillage of his master s acres. He was\\nnot in theory a slave, but neither w^as he practically a free\\nman and he had long been mildly agitating for a change.\\nIt was in the fourteenth century that the backbone of the\\nold system was broken, and money wages and money rents\\ngenerally substituted for the old conditions of feudal ten-\\nure. The Black Death, a terrible plague which visited\\nEngland about the middle of the century, killing a third,\\nand perhaps a half, of the population in a single year, was\\ninstrumental in furthering this development. It took off\\nsuch a large proportion of the laboring classes that wages\\nrose to unprecedented figures. Villeins were tempted\\nto run away from the estates to which they were legally\\nbound, and the peasant class in general w^ere filled with\\na new spirit of independence. A tragical uprising which\\ncame in 1381 proved futile, but it was a symptom of a\\nnew social condition, an abortive effort towards that de-\\nmocracy which in the last few generations has revolution-", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0117.jp2"}, "118": {"fulltext": "lOO EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nized the western world. The Uterature of the fourteenth\\ncentury is filled with manifestations of the new spirit.\\nThe religious condition of England is also of great im-\\nportance in our study. It is sometimes supposed that the\\nmediaeval mind was touched with a deep and peculiar\\nreligious feeling. This belief finds expression notably\\nin those painters and poets who seek to revive the spirit\\nof mediaeval religion. That spirit, they say, was a passion-\\nate and beautiful mysticism the Deity was then more\\nvividly realized than now, as a living presence in the\\nhuman soul and in spiritual communion with Him, there\\nwas an ecstasy of emotion which this harder age cannot\\nfeel. Yet it is doubtful if this assumed intensity of feeling\\nwas really commoner in the middle ages than in the nine-\\nteenth century. Distance has lent to mediaeval things an\\nenchantment not wholly proper to them. Mediaeval reli-\\ngion was half inherited from pagan creeds, and was dis-\\ntinguished by a vivid anthropomorphism to the common\\nmind, God and Christ were primarily men of preternatural\\npowers, but with human emotions, form and speech and\\nwhatever we find of peculiar intensity in the common\\nreligious conceptions of the time is often due to the com-\\nparative ease with which these matter-of-fact persons\\nwere realized by the imagination. In the spiritual-minded\\nthis kind of belief took on a spiritual coloring, as we have\\nseen, but in the majority there was little spirituality, and\\ntheir religion was as gross as it was vivid. Asceticism, at\\nbest, was not the practice of the whole mediaeval world,\\nbut only the ideal of a small part of it.\\nThe corruptness of the clergy has already been men-\\ntioned. The main reason for England s long toleration", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0118.jp2"}, "119": {"fulltext": "THE AGE OF CHAUCER lOI\\nof it is to be found in the clergy s enormous power. The\\nmore fundamental reason, however, and indeed the secret\\nof this very power, is to be found in the too common\\nconception of religion as a mere discipline by pains and\\npenalties. In the clergy was vested the power to forgive\\nsins and to remit the penalties of the hereafter. The\\nsinner who confessed was bidden to do a certain penance,\\nas the condition of receiving absolution the sinner who\\nstayed away from confessional was haled before the eccle-\\nsiastical court and sentenced to a worse penance. The\\npenance might be a fast, or a pilgrimage, or any one of\\ncountless methods of expiation but the commands of\\nthe church must be obeyed to the letter, or terrible tor-\\nments were the doom of the offender. If the church had\\nconfined this discipline to cases of vice and crime, there\\nwould have been far less cause for complaint, but it did\\nnot. The enemies of the church, and sometimes the\\nenemies of its ministers, were treated as the enemies of\\nGod, and the church s most terrible weapon, excommu-\\nnicatiouj was hurled at them. The mere possession of\\nthis weapon was a constant temptation to the clergy to\\nfoster the popular conception of the Deity as a God of\\nWrath and this conception (as has been dimly seen in\\nthe extracts already read) needed no fostering. It was\\npartly this view of religion that gave the church its first\\nfirm grip upon English life, and though in the fourteenth\\ncentury the church had ceased to command universal (or\\nperhaps even general) respect, it was too late to shake it off.\\nThe foregoing is not intended as a full and fair descrip-\\ntion of the mediaeval English Church. That church taught\\nthe gospel of Love as well as that of Wrath and even", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0119.jp2"}, "120": {"fulltext": "I02 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nwith the latter it did much good to individuals, as well\\nas much harm, for it used its power in a turbulent age\\nto protect the weak against the strong, and to save the\\nvicious from themselves. But the church s abuses of its\\npower made more impression upon the literature of the\\nfourteenth century than did its legitimate influence, and\\nthe darker side of the story is therefore of more present\\nsignificance to us. It should, moreover, be especially\\nstudied by those who think of mediaeval religion as only\\na pure and beautiful mysticism, and by those who pessi-\\nmistically bewail the loss of spirituality in the modern\\nworld.\\nResentment and revolt against the abuses of the church\\ncame to a head in Wyclif. He was an eminent Oxford\\nscholar and theologian, for a time Master of Balliol Col-\\nlege, and a center of the university s intellectual influence.\\nIn 1382, however, when he was past sixty years of age,\\nhe was expelled from the university because of his heret-\\nical teachings. He had attacked the greed of the church,\\nadvocating its disendowment (with extensive confiscation\\nof its property) then he had assailed the several orders\\nof friars, on account of their notorious corruptions and\\nfinally he had in effect declared open war upon the church\\nby avowing and inculcating disbelief in the doctrine of\\ntransubstantiation, {i.e.^ the doctrine that the bread and\\nwine used in the sacrament of the Lord s Supper are\\nactually transformed into the body and blood of Christ,\\nonly the appearance of the original elements remaining).\\nAn attack upon this cardinal belief of the church was\\nnot merely a doctrinal dispute it was a matter of vital\\nconsequence, for the clergy knew that much of their power", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0120.jp2"}, "121": {"fulltext": "TH^ AGE OF CHAUCER IO3\\nwas due to the people s belief in their ability to perform\\nthis daily miracle and apart from that, the belief itself\\nhas a mystical charm for those who cherish it, so that an\\nattack upon it is felt as a peculiarly impious sacrilege.\\nWyclif s followers, who were known as Lollards, were\\nactive for a generation or more after their master s death\\n(1384), and they never were altogether suppressed their\\nagitation continued fitfully until it was merged in the\\ngreater Protestant Reformation of the sixteenth century.\\nThey were regarded as dangerous enemies of the nation,\\nand many of them died the heretic s death at the stake.\\nGowned in long russet robes, their preachers wandered\\nfrom town to town, finding audiences where they could,\\nand spreading their doctrine in the face of threats and\\ninsults. Wyclif himself had been on some subjects a\\nfanatic, whose opinions shock our judgment as often as\\nthey accord with it, and his followers inherited his fanati-\\ncism without his great intelligence but there was much\\nin them to admire. In holding that the rules of faith\\nshould be sought chiefly in the Bible (parts of which, if\\nnot all, Wyclif himself translated), and that clean living\\nwas worth more than ceremonies or sacraments, they\\nwere anticipating the great Reformation, and the opinion\\nof the modern Protestant world.\\n34. The Alliterative Poems. The principal poets of the\\nlatter half of the fourteenth century may be roughly\\ndivided into two classes, the East and West Midland\\nschools. The former, under the influence of court or\\nuniversity training, and by imitation of foreign models,\\nattained a much higher proficiency in the poetic art than\\nany of their English predecessors. Indeed Chaucer,", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0121.jp2"}, "122": {"fulltext": "I04 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nwho was a London man, is felt to be almost a modern\\npoet. The West Midland men, on the other hand, liv-\\ning in a district where the English spirit had received\\nless of the French leaven, clung more to old forms\\nand old ideas, and their work seems to us thoroughly\\nmediaeval.\\nFour poems, commonly known as Cleanness^ Patience^\\nPearl, and Gawayne-and the Green Knight, have sur-\\nvived from this period in a single manuscript, all in the\\nsame handwriting and the same West Midland dialect.\\nIt is usually assumed (though not yet proved) that all\\nare by the same author, but who or what that author was\\nwe can only guess. All except Pearl are in the Old\\nEnglish metre, with the Old English system of alliter-\\nation, although Gawayne and the Green Knight makes\\nsome use of rime. Pearl is rimed throughout, and its\\nmetre is of a smoother and finer kind, as a specimen\\nwill show. The author has retained the essential princi-\\nples of the older verse, but was apparently experiment-\\ning with it.\\nCleanness is a didactic poem of 1812 lines. By means\\nof a number of stories from the Old Testament, such as\\nthose of Sodom and Gomorrah, Belshazzar, and Nebu-\\nchadnezzar, it shows the advantages of clean living and\\nthe fatal consequences of uncleanness. The following\\nexcerpts from the story of the flood (modernized) will\\nshow something of the character of the original\\nBut then evils on earth ever increased\\nAnd multiplied manifold amongst mankind,\\nFor the powerful people oppressed the weaker,\\nSo that the Man that made all was mightily enraged.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0122.jp2"}, "123": {"fulltext": "THE AGE OF CHAUCER IO5\\nWhen he knew each country corrupt in itself,\\nAnd the people strayed from the paths of right,\\nFell tempting anger touched his heart.\\nSorrowing like a man, he said these words\\nI regret full much that ever I made man\\nBut I shall deliver and do away the dotards on earth.\\nAnd banish from my creation all creatures of flesh,\\nBoth bird and fish and beast and man\\nAll shall down and be dead, and driven from the earth.\\nThat ever I set soul in and sorely it rues me\\nThat ever I made them but if I may, hereafter\\nI shall watch and be wary their wickedness to stop.\\n(Accordingly the deluge is determined on, and Noah is\\nwarned to build a chest.\\nNow, Noah, quoth our Lord, are you all ready\\nHave you stopped all the chinks in your chest with clay\\nYes, Lord, by your leave, said the man then\\nAll is wrought after your word, as you lent me wit.\\nEnter in then, quoth He, and take your wife with you,\\nAnd your thrifty sons and their wives all three.\\nIt hardly need be pointed out that this is not in the\\nspirit of modern religious feeling. The poem is, of course,\\nprofoundly reverential in intent, but the reverence is of\\nthe sort that might have been paid to a feudal superior,^\\nnot to the Supreme Being of a spiritual religion.\\nThe highest mountains over the moor were dry then no more,\\nBut thereon flocked the folk, for fear of the Vengeance.\\nThe wild of the forest floated on the water.\\nSome swam thereon, that thought to save themselves.\\n1 In Patience^ line 51, the Deity is called my lege lorde.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0123.jp2"}, "124": {"fulltext": "I06 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nSome struggled to the heights, stared up to heaven,\\nAnd ruefully with loud voice roared aloud for dread.\\nHares, harts also, run to the heights\\nBucks, badgers and bulls hastened to the banks.\\nAnd all cried for care to the King of heaven.\\nFor succor from the Creator they cried, each one\\nBut that helped not the misery, for his mercy was passed,\\nAnd all his pity departed, from the people that he hated.\\nBy that time to their feet the flood flowed and waxed\\nThen each man saw well that he needs must sink.\\nFriends embraced and fell upon each other,\\nTo endure their doleful destiny and die all together.\\nLover looks on beloved, and taketh his leave.\\nTo end all at once, and for ever to part.\\nPatience is very much like Cleanness, enforcing an\\nappropriate moral by the story of Jonah, but it lays pro-\\nportionally a little less stress on God s anger and a little\\nmore on his mercy. Gawayne and the Green Knight\\nhas already been mentioned as one of the best of the\\nArthurian romances but it differs from most poems\\nof its class in being profoundly moral in spirit and in\\npurpose. The difficulties that Gawayne encounters are\\ntemptations rather than dangers, and the reader is led\\nto admire him more for his integrity than for his prowess.\\nWith some humor, and some elements of pathos, and an\\nadmirable vividness of natural description, it is altogether\\na delightful poem but, unfortunately, the great number\\nof obsolete words in its vocabulary put it beyond the\\nreach of most modern readers.\\nPearl is a touching lament over the loss of a child,\\nprobably the poet s infant daughter. It is largely alle-\\ngorical. The poet tells that he was once the possessor", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0124.jp2"}, "125": {"fulltext": "THE AGE OF CHAUCER 107\\nof a pearl of surpassing beauty, but he lost it in the green\\ngrass in a lovely arbor. One day, when he had gone to\\nthe arbor to bewail the loss of his pearl, and was lying\\non the grass where it was buried, he fell asleep and\\ndreamed that he saw the kingdom of heaven. His pearl\\nwas there, in the form of a beautiful maiden, and she\\ntold him of her happy state, comforted him in his afflic-\\ntion, and explained to him some of the problems that\\nhad perplexed his mind. The religious spirit of the\\npoem is markedly different from that of Cleanness and\\nPatience, In Pearl we really find some of the beautiful\\nspirituality for which we search so much of mediaeval\\nliterature in vain. The river of life, the crystal battle-\\nments of heaven, and the brilliant gems that adorn them\\nimpress us not as the vagaries of a materialistic fancy,\\nbut rather as the mystic symbols of faith and love.\\nThe Deity is a great king, but he reigns in a spiritual\\nkingdom, and we are told to love him for his mercy,\\nnot merely to fear him for his wrath. The maiden\\nsays, for example\\nIn Jerusalem was my Bridegroom slain,\\nAnd rent on the rood by ruffians bold.\\nAll our bales to bear full fain,\\nHe took on himself our sorrows cold.\\nHis face was all with buffets flayn,\\nThat was so lovely to behold\\nSinless himself, he suffered pain\\nFor the sins of us, the sheep of his fold.\\nFor us he let himself be sold,\\nAnd nailed upon a rough-hewn beam\\nAs meek as a lamb that no plaint told,\\nFor us he died in Jerusalem.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0125.jp2"}, "126": {"fulltext": "I08 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nBy quoting other passages it might be shown that this\\npoem is as superior to the others in artistic feUcity as it\\nis different in rehgious spirit. It would obviously be\\npossible to argue that Pearl and Cleanness could not\\nhave been written by the same author. They were\\ncertainly not written in the same mood but perhaps\\nthe difference is accounted for by the fact that one\\nwas a deliberate effort to teach certain practical truths,\\nwhile the other was inspired by a grievous sense of\\npersonal loss.\\n35. Piers Plowman. The most remarkable production\\nof what we have called the West Midland school was\\nwritten by a man to whom tradition gives the name of\\nWilliam Langland. He is supposed to have been born\\nat Cleobury Mortimer, in Shropshire, about the year\\n1332, and to have received the education of a clerk\\nin some western monastery, perhaps the one at Great\\nMalvern in Worcestershire. From his poem we know\\nthat he wore the clerical tonsure and garb, that he was\\na gaunt, stern-featured man, much given to melancholy\\nmusings, and that he was extremely poor. His poem is\\nan elaborate allegory, giving a detailed picture of the life\\nof the author s time, and an eloquent denunciation of its\\nsins. The following extracts are modernized, but are\\nintended to reproduce the spirit of the original as fairly\\nas possible.\\n(^Prologue,\\nIn a summer season, when soft was the sunshine,\\nI dressed myself coarsely in shepherd s clothes,\\nIn habit of a hermit, unholy of works,\\nAnd went wide in this world, wonders to hear.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0126.jp2"}, "127": {"fulltext": "THE AGE OF CHAUCER IO9\\nBut on a May morning, on Malvern Hills,\\nThere befel a strange chance, enchantment I thought it\\nI was weary of wandering, and went me to rest\\nUnder a broad bank, by a burn s side\\nAnd as I lay and leaned, and looked in the waters,\\nI slumbered in a sleeping, it sounded so pleasantly.\\nThen came to my mind a marvelous vision.\\nThat I was in a wilderness, wist I never where.\\nAs I looked into the East, on high to the sun,\\nI saw a tower on the top of a hill,\\nWith a deep dale beneath, and a dungeon therein\\nWith deep ditches and dark, and dreadful of sight.\\nA fair field full of folk found I there between.\\nOf all manner of men, the mean and the rich,\\nWorking and wandering as the world requires.\\nI saw pilgrims and palmers, pledging themselves\\nTo seek Saint James and saints at Rome.\\nThey went forth on their way with many wise tales,\\nAnd got leave to lie, all their lives thereafter.\\nI saw some that said they had sought saints\\nTo each tale that they told, their tongue was tempered to\\nlie.\\nMore than to tell truth, (so it seemed by their speech).\\nHordes of hermits, with hooked staves,\\nWent to Walsingham with their wenches following them\\nLong-legged lubbers, that loth were to work.\\nClothed themselves in copes, to be known from other men.\\nAnd made themselves hermits, so as to have their ease.\\nI found there friars, all the four orders.\\nPreaching to the people for their own profit,\\nClosing the Gospel as they thought good.\\n1 A shrine of the Virgin, in Norfolk, much visited by pilgrims.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0127.jp2"}, "128": {"fulltext": "no EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nThere preached a pardoner,^ as if he were a priest;\\nHe brought out a bull, sealed by the bishop,\\nAnd said that he himself could absolve them all\\nFrom violations of fast-days, or breaches of vows.\\nThe ignorant believed him, and liked his words well,\\nAnd came up all kneeling to kiss his bulls\\nHe duped them with his indulgences, and dimmed their\\neyes,\\nAnd reached out with his documents for their rings and\\nbrooches\\nAnd thus they gave their gold to keep gluttons alive.\\nBarons and burgesses and husbandmen also\\nI saw in this assembly, as ye shall hear,\\nBaxters and brewsters and butchers many,\\nWoolen websters and weavers of linen.\\nTailors and tinkers, and tax-collectors.\\nMasons and miners, and manv other crafts.\\nOf all kinds of laborers that live there were some.\\nSuch as diggers and delvers, that do their deeds ill.\\nAnd dawdle the livelong day, droning idle songs.\\nCooks and their kitchen-knaves cried hot pies, hot\\nGood pigs and geese go dine, go\\nTaverners unto them told the same story;\\nWhite wine of Alsace and red wine from Gascony,\\nFrom the Rhine and Rochelle, to digest the roast meat.\\nAll this saw I sleeping, and seven times more.\\nThe tower mentioned in line 14 is the Tower of Truth,\\nand the dungeon in the deep dale is the Castle of Care.\\nThe fair field full of folk is of course the world, and\\nwe naturally expect that the allegory wtII be developed\\n1 Pardoners were persons commissioned by the church to sell indul-\\ngences. They raised money partly by house-to-house peddling, partly\\nin the open air, as here. The abuses of this traffic are notorious.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0128.jp2"}, "129": {"fulltext": "THE AGE OF CHAUCER III\\nin narrative form, with the field and the tower and the\\ncastle for a scenic background. In fact, however, as we\\nfollow the succession of pictures that Langland puts\\nbefore us, we lose sight of these landmarks altogether.\\nHe seems to have forgotten them himself. At the end\\nof the Prologue, for example, we have what seems to be\\na picture of a London street, with the cooks and the\\ntavern-keepers at their doors, touting for custom. Farther\\non in the poem, some of the people get into a quarrel,\\nand they all hurry off to Westminster to get the king to\\ndecide it but after some satire upon the administration\\nof justice at the capital, we are taken back again to the\\nfield full of folk. The people are suffering much misery\\nbecause of their sins, but Hope and Repentance come\\nand speak comfortingly to them, and they all resolve to\\ngo off in search of St. Truth. (It does not seem to be\\nremembered that he lives in the tower on the hill.)\\n{Passus quintus de Visione.)\\nA thousand of men then thronged together,\\nCrying upward to Christ and his clean mother,\\nTo let grace go with them in search of Truth.\\nBut there was no wight so wise that knew the way thither,\\nBut they bustled like beasts over banks and hills,\\nTill after long searching they saw at last a man\\nAppareled as a palmer, in pilgrim s wise.\\nHe bore a staff, bound with a broad band\\nWound about it in the manner of woodbine.\\nA bowl and a bag he bore by his side\\nPhials of holy water were fastened to his hat,\\nSigns of Sinai, and shells from Galicia,", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0129.jp2"}, "130": {"fulltext": "112 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nAnd many a cross on his cloak, and keys of Rome,\\nAnd the Vernicle in front, that men might know\\nAnd see by his signs what shrines he had sought.\\nThe folk asked him first whence he had come.\\nFrom Sinai, he said, and from Our Lord s sepulchre;\\nIn Bethlehem and in Babylon, I have been in both;\\nAnd in Armenia and Alexandria, and many other places.\\nYe may see by my signs that sit on my hat\\nThat I have walked full wide, in wet and in dry.\\nAnd sought good saints, for my soul s health.\\nCanst tell of a saint that men call Truth\\nCduldst thou put us on the way to that person s dwelling\\nNay, so God help me, the holy man said\\nI never saw palmer, with pike nor with scrip.\\nAsking for him before, till now in this place.\\nJust at this juncture, Piers the Plowman, v^ho gives\\nhis name to the poem, makes his first appearance. He\\ntells the people that he knows all about St. Truth, for\\nhe has been his faithful servant for fifty years and he\\nwill gladly show them the way to Truth s abode, after\\nhe has finished his day s ploughing. They accept his\\noffer, but some wrangling which ensues is so noisy that\\nthe poet wakes from his sleep and the vision ends.\\nThis is the poem properly called The Vision of William\\nconcerning Piers the Plowman, Accounts of other visions\\nfollow it, making practically a single poem of twenty-three\\ncantos ox passus and as the same character, Piers, appears\\nin later visions, the whole collection is commonly known\\nas Piers Plowman, One spirit pervades the whole\\nthe spirit of a reformer, bitterly discontented with the\\nworld as he sees it, commending with rough but passion-\\nate eloquence his own peculiar gospel as a sort of social", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0130.jp2"}, "131": {"fulltext": "THE AGE OF CHAUCER II3\\npanacea, yet evidently half hopeless of the issue after all.\\nWhat Langland s gospel was is apparent from the extracts\\nalready given. The moral spirit of his Christianity was\\nnot utterly remote from that of the present time honesty\\nand industry seem to be his cardinal virtues and the\\nconception of society that suggested Piers the Plowman\\nfor the regenerator of the world had as much in common\\nwith modern as with mediaeval thought.\\nThere are many passages showing Langland s keen\\nsympathy with the poor. The following may well be\\ncompared with the legend of Alexis\\nFor he that beggeth or biddeth, unless he have need,\\nHe is false and a faitour, and defraudeth the needy,\\nAnd beguileth the giver, taking against his will\\nFor he that giveth for God s love would not give willingly\\nSave where he knew great need of his giving.\\nAnd most merit in the men he is giving to.\\nThis is what Cato says, cui des videto\\nNone knows, I ween, who is worthy to have.\\nThe most needy are our neighbors, if we look at them nar-\\nrowly\\nSuch as prisoners in dungeons, and poor folk in cottages,\\nBurdened with children, and the landlord s charges.\\nWhat they save with their spinning they spend in house-hire,\\nAnd in milk and meal for making porridge.\\nTo allay their little ones longing for food.\\nThey themselves also suffer much hunger.\\nAnd woe in the winter-time with waking a-nights\\nTo rise by the bed-side and rock the cradle,\\nAnd with carding and combing and patching and washing.\\nAnd rubbing and reeling, and peeling of rushes\\nSo that it is pity to read, or to write in rime\\nThe woe of these women that dwell in cottages,", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0131.jp2"}, "132": {"fulltext": "114 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nAnd of many other men, that much woe suffer,\\nWith both famine and thirst yet they put on a bold face,\\nAnd are ashamed to beg or to show their need.\\nThe poem is so full of attacks upon the ecclesiastical\\nsystem of the time that Langland has sometimes been\\ncalled a Lollard, but this is a mistake. He was bitter\\nagainst the abuses, but loyal to the essential doctrines of\\nRomanism. In the twentieth pas sits Piers is tending a\\nwounded man (that is, a sinner) whom Faith and Hope\\nhave forsaken\\nDo not blame them, said Piers; their presence would\\nnot avail,\\nNor any medicine on earth, to heal the man.\\nWithout the blood of a babe he may not be saved.\\nAnd that babe must needs be born of a maid\\nWith the blood of that babe he must be anointed and bap-\\ntized.\\nAnd though he step and stand, he shall never be right\\nstrong\\nTill he have eaten that babe and drunk his blood.\\nLangland lived to be an old man, and his whole life,\\napparently, was dedicated to work upon this poem. He\\ngave it to the world first in a shorter form, but after-\\nwards, at intervals, issued two altered and expanded\\neditions. No money was to be won by such labors, and\\nLangland s satire upon the clergy must have deprived\\nhim of all chance of promotion in the church. The\\npoem must, therefore, have been entirely a labor of\\nlove and conscience.\\n36. Gower. The most celebrated of the poets con-\\ntemporary with Chaucer was John Gower. His celeb-", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0132.jp2"}, "133": {"fulltext": "THE AGE OF CHAUCER II5\\nrity, however, was not due to his genius, for his gift\\nwas less than that of either Langland or the author of\\nGawayne and the Green Knight it was due chiefly to\\nthe fact that he wrote in the East Midland dialect, and\\ntherefore could be read with ease after his greater con-\\ntemporaries had become wholly unintelligible. Moreover,\\nhe was a courtier and a poHshed gentleman, and there-\\nfore was able to write the sort of poetry that was then\\nin fashion, if not actually to set the fashion himself.\\nConsequently, it was for many generations a common\\nthing to bracket his name with Chaucer s,^ while his\\nhumble superiors were ignored.\\nGower was born about the year 1325, and died in\\n1408. He was probably a rich man, and certainly a\\nhighly educated one. His three most considerable works\\nare in three different languages the Vox Clamantis in\\nLatin, the Speciihun Meditantis in French, and the Con-\\nfessio Amantis in English. Apparently he wrote with\\nthe same ease in all three, although in one of his minor\\nFrench poems he apologizes for slips\\nAl Universite de tout le monde\\nJohan Gower ceste balade envoie,\\nEt si jeo nai de francois la faconde,\\nPardonetz moi qe jeo de ceo forsvoie.\\nJeo sui Englois.\\n1 E.g.^ Skelton, Garlande of Laurell, 1. 387\\nAnd as I thus sadly amonge them avysid,\\nI saw Gower, that first garnisshed our Englysshe rude,\\nAnd Maister Chaucer, that nobly enterprysed\\nHow that our Englysshe myght fresshely be ennewed.\\nTo the University of all the world John Gower sends this bal-\\nlade; and if I have not a good French style, pardon my shortcomings\\nI am English.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0133.jp2"}, "134": {"fulltext": "Il6 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nAnd his Latin, of course, was neither elegant nor cor-\\nrect but that was less his own fault than the habit of\\nhis time, for Ciceronian Latin had long been forgotten.\\nThe Confessio Amantis begins as follows\\nOf hem that writen us to-fore\\nThe bokes dwelle,^ and we therfore\\nBen taught of that was writen tho.^\\nForthy good is, that we also\\nIn oure time amonge us here\\nDo write of-newe some matere\\nEnsampled of the olde wise,\\nSo that it might in suche a wise,\\nWhan we be dede and elles-where,\\nBeleve to the worldes ere\\nIn time comend after this.\\nBut for men sain, and sothe it is,\\nThat who that al of wisdom writ\\nIt dulleth ofte a mannes wit\\nTo hem that shall it alday rede.\\nFor thilke cause, if that ye rede,\\nI wolde go the middel wey\\nAnd write a boke betwene the twey\\nSomewhat of lust,^^ somewhat of lore,\\nThat of the lasse or of the more\\nSom man may like of that I write,\\nAnd for that fewe men endite^^\\nIn our Englisshe, I thenke make\\nA boke for king Richardes sake.\\nTo whom belongeth my legeaunce\\nWith all min hertes obeisaunce,\\nIn all that ever a lege man\\nUnto his king may done or can.\\n1 Are still extant. then. therefore. anew. modeled\\nupon. remain. coming. that. two. pleasure.\\n11 write. 12 intend to.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0134.jp2"}, "135": {"fulltext": "THE AGE OF CHAUCER II/\\nIn pursuance of this plan Gower has written a didactic\\nprologue, in a thousand lines or more, to instruct the\\nreader, while the rest of the poem, some thirty or\\nforty thousand lines, is evidently intended to entertain\\nhim. The prologue is a criticism of the poet s own time,\\njust as Piers Plowman is but it is written in a politer\\ndialect, in a metre which (under French influence) had\\nbegun to be something like that of modern poets, and\\nfrom the point of view of a courtier, scholar, and landed\\nproprietor. Gower laments the corruption and decay of\\nthe church, which\\nCauseth for to bringe\\nThis newe secte of lollardie\\nAnd also many an heresie\\nAmong the clerkes in hem selve.\\nHe inveighs especially against the ambition and avarice\\nwhich he says have driven out the simple humility and\\ncharity of the olden time, and urges that there can be no\\nhope for the world so long as the whole human race is\\ndivided against itself. Gower was an earnest and fearless\\nthinker, and however flippantly we may speak of him as\\na poet, he is entitled to high esteem as a man, and as a\\nsober student of his times. Chaucer, in dedicating his\\nTroilus and Criseyde^ said\\nO moral Gower, this book I directe\\nTo thee\\nand the epithet has clung to Gower s name ever since.\\nThe rest of the Confessio Amantis is a tediously typi-\\ncal illustration of the influence of the French literature\\nof chivalry. The poet represents himself as a faithful", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0135.jp2"}, "136": {"fulltext": "Il8 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nthough not faultless servant of Love, coming to the court\\nof Venus and praying for relief. Venus appoints a\\nperson called Genius to be his father confessor, and the\\npoet kneels to him as a sinner to a priest of the church.\\nGenius asks him searching questions about his offenses\\nagainst the laws of Love, and tells a long story to illus-\\ntrate the importance of each law. The telling of these\\nstories is of course the main purpose of the poem, but\\nthe whole collection is unified by the setting. The court\\nof Venus and Cupid, the laws of Love, the penitent\\noffender against those laws, and most of the rest of the\\nmachinery of the poem were common conventions\\nin French poetry and (as we shall see in a later\\nchapter) were destined to become common enough in\\nEngland.\\nA single example of Gower s method will suffice. Dis-\\nobedience, which springs from pride, is one of the com-\\nmon offenses against the law. The confessor explains\\nwhat it is, the lover confesses his guilt, and the confessor\\nillustrates by the following story the advantages of obedi-\\nence and humility\\nThere was once a worthy knight, Florent, a nephew\\nof the Emperor. This knight had once killed a certain\\nBranchus, and the friends of the latter waylaid Florent and\\ntook him to their castle as a prisoner. There the grand-\\nmother of Branchus came to him and offered him his lib-\\nerty on this condition, that by a certain day he should\\nbring her the answer to a question which she would put to\\nhim he must freely agree, however, that in the event of\\nhis failure they might put him to death. Florent agreed,\\nand the question was put what do all women most\\ndesire", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0136.jp2"}, "137": {"fulltext": "THE AGE OF CHAUCER 1 19\\nFlorent went home and tried in vain to get a satisfactory\\nanswer. At the time appointed he was returning to his\\ndeath, when there met him a hideously loathsome old\\nwoman, who promised to save him on condition that he\\nwould marry her. Reluctantly he assented, for life is\\nsweet, and he thought he could hide her where no man\\nshould see her, and she must soon die. So she told him\\nthe right answer to the question, which was, to be sov-\\nereign of man s love. The answer was accepted by the\\nhousehold of Branchus, and Florent was set free and being\\nan honorable knight, he kept his word to the hag. After\\nthe ceremony, they retired together for the night, but\\nFlorent persistently turned his back on his wife, in disgust\\nand despair. At last, in obedience to her urgent entreaty,\\nhe looked at her, and found her only eighteen years old,\\nand the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. As he\\nstarted to embrace her, she checked him, and asked\\nwhether he preferred thenceforth to have her young and\\nbeautiful by day, or by night for he must choose between\\nthe two. He begged her to choose for him, saying she\\nwas his mistress and he put himself entirely under her\\ndirection. At that she assured him that she would keep\\nher youth and beauty at all times. She explained that she\\nwas a king s daughter, and that her stepmother, by a wicked\\nenchantment, had doomed her to endure the loathsome dis-\\nguise of a hag until she should win the love and sovereignty\\nof the most famous knight in the world which she had\\nnow done.\\nThis story, like many others in the poem, is good in\\nitself but it owes nothing to Gower s telling. He is\\ndestitute of the charm that we look for in a poet, and is\\ninsufferably prolix. Even by the few lines that have\\nbeen quoted from the prologue, the reader can see that\\nthirty thousand lines of Gower are too much.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0137.jp2"}, "138": {"fulltext": "CHAPTER VII\\nCHAUCER\\n37. The Life of Chaucer. Geoffrey Chaucer was the\\nson of John Chaucer, a London vintner. The date of\\nhis birth is unknown. In certain documents relating\\nto a legal proceeding in which the poet s father was\\nconcerned, John Chaucer was described as being in\\n1324 not yet fourteen years of age, and as being in\\n1328 still unmarried. These facts fix the earliest limit\\nthat can possibly be considered for the date of the poet s\\nbirth. A later limit is suggested by some legal proceed-\\nings in 1386, in which he is described as ^*of the age of\\nforty years and more. If this was correct, and if the\\nphrase (like forty odd means more than forty and\\nless than fifty, then Chaucer could not have been born\\nbefore 1336. On the other hand, the later facts of\\nChaucer s life, and many remarks in his poems about\\nhis old age, tempt us to assign as early a date as pos-\\nsible for his birth. It cannot have been much later than\\n1336, and it may have been a little earlier.\\nThe earliest known mention of the poet is dated 1357.\\nIt is found in the household accounts of the wife of\\nLionel, Duke of Clarence, one of the sons of Edward\\nIII. These accounts had been used to bind a manu-\\nscript of some fifteenth-century poems, and were only\\nrecently discovered in the British Museum. They show,\\n120", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0138.jp2"}, "139": {"fulltext": "CHAUCER 121\\namong other things, that in April, 1357, ^^e Countess\\nspent seven shilKngs for a suit of clothes for Geoffrey\\nChaucer. This, with other evidence of similar character,\\nshows that the poet was in his youth in the service of\\nLionel s family, doubtless as a page. Such a position\\nwas not of a menial nature. It was one which might\\nwell be coveted by a gentleman s son, and it secured for\\nChaucer a gentleman s education and training.\\nA little later the royal accounts show that Chaucer\\nserved in the wars in France and was taken prisoner,\\nfor the king paid something for his ransom. Still later,\\nother documents show that pensions were paid to him,\\nsometimes in money, sometimes in allowances of wine\\nfrom the royal cellars. As he rose in the world he was\\nfound to be a man of skill and judgment in diplomacy,\\nand was sent on several important missions to France\\nand to Italy. He also held offices of trust and dignity\\nat home. For twelve years he was Controller of the\\nCustoms at the port of London he was a member of\\nParliament in 1386 was Clerk of the King s Works in\\n1389 and was a foresfer of the Earl of March in 1390.\\nHe was married and had at least one son. He had his\\nups and downs in worldly prosperity, however, according\\nto the capricious chances of royal favor but he was a\\nman of eminent attainments apart from literature, and\\nhis character won the affectionate regard of many of his\\ncontemporaries. He died in 1400.\\nThe foregoing are by no means all the known facts of\\nChaucer s life, but they will serve to illustrate the ways\\nby which scholars have obtained information about him,\\nand to explain his position in the history of mediaeval", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0139.jp2"}, "140": {"fulltext": "122 EARLY ENGLISH .LITERATURE\\nliterature. With the greatest hterary genius that Eng-\\nland had yet produced, and the life and environment\\nthat fell to Chaucer s lot, his literary position seems one\\nthat might in great part have been predicted. He saw\\nthe same world that Langland saw, but from a very dif-\\nferent point of view. He was familiar with the dreams\\nof the romancers as well as with those of the religious\\nmystics, but he was a sagacious man of the world,\\nwith a practical business sense. He loved a good story\\nloved it all the better, perhaps, if it was touched\\nwith the satirical spirit of the ipoipula.r fadliatix but his\\ncourt training tended to make him one of the aristocrats\\nof literary art, and his travels in Italy taught him what-\\never it was possible to learn of literary finish, in the land\\nwhere the Renaissance was already in progress.\\n38. Chaueer*s French Period. We have seen in an\\nearlier chapter how some of the mediaeval romancers\\ninfused into their fantasies some of the spirit of mediae-\\nval religion. There was another kind of romantic poetry\\nwhich owed much to the influence of religious literature,\\nbut in a different way. It will be remembered that one\\npeculiar manifestation of the mediaeval religious spirit\\nwas a fancy for detecting in things material an image\\nof things spiritual. This fancy led to a profusion of\\nallegorical religious literature, of which the Bestiary is a\\ncrude example, and Peaid a much finer one but a sim-\\nilar fancy also took hold of the courtly romancers, and\\nled to the sort of poetry commonly called court alle-\\ngory. This literary species can best be illustrated by\\nan abstract of part of the Romaunt of the Rose, a\\nFrench poem of the thirteenth century.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0140.jp2"}, "141": {"fulltext": "CHAUCER 123\\nThe poet has a dream in which, walking along a river-\\nbank in the month of May, he comes upon a beautiful\\ngarden surrounded by a high wall. On the. outside of this\\nwall are paintings and sculptures representing such persons\\nas Churlishness, Sorrow, Age, and Poverty. (As the gar-\\nden is Love s domain, the fact that these figures are on the\\noutside seems to indicate that romantic love is an entertain-\\nment for only those who are well-born, happy, young, and\\nrich.) The poet at last finds a gate kept by the porter\\nIdleness, who opens for him. In the garden is the God of\\nLove, with his attendant lords and ladies. Beauty, Riches,\\nGladness, Courtesy, and many others. The poet avoids\\nthem for a time, and wanders about the garden till, he\\ncomes to a beautiful rose-bush. One of the roses on this\\nbush attracts him so that he cannot leave the place, but\\nlingers there smelling of it and longing to pluck it and\\nwhile he is so engaged. Love (who has been watching him\\nall the time) shoots his arrows at him, and demands his\\nsurrender. The poet thereupon kneels before the god with\\njoined hands, and does him homage and becomes his\\nman. Love demands security, and the poet offers his\\nheart, which the god accepts and locks up with a little\\ngolden key. He then delivers to the poet a long lecture on\\nthe statute laws of his kingdom, which are a codification of\\nthe whole duty of lovers. The lover must be lean and\\nlanguishing, must be sleepless with love-longing, courteous\\nof speech, reticent about his love, except with some trust-\\nworthy confidant, untiring in his devotion, liberal with\\ngifts, and so forth but there is nothing in the statutes to\\nsuggest that he ought to be pure of heart. After the lec-\\nture the poet was free to approach the rose-bush if he\\ncould, but there were difficulties in the way. Fair Recep-\\ntion, Pity, Frankness, and others, tried to encourage and\\nhelp him, but Reason, Shame, Chastity, and other malig-\\nnant enemies of Love, conspired to keep him away. Some\\nof them built a high wall around the rose-bush and the", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0141.jp2"}, "142": {"fulltext": "124 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nrest of the poem is a narrative of the poet s long frustrated\\nefforts to pluck the rose.\\nThis poem is dainty in treatment, with every appear-\\nance of earnest devotion, on the part of the author, to\\nthe god of his idolatry but from the foregoing abstract,\\nand from what has been said of the early romances of\\nchivalry, it will be evident that it was really written in\\na spirit of elegant trifling, and that its fundamental con-\\nception of life was thoroughly immoral. It was one of\\nthe most popular books known in the fourteenth century.\\nOne of Chaucer s first works was a translation of it,\\nand we find evidences of its influence upon almost all-\\nChaucer s contemporaries. Even in Pearl the bereaved\\nfather falls asleep and dreams that he is walking along\\na river. It was therefore not strange that Chaucer s\\nearliest original poetry should bear the same stamp.\\nBut while Chaucer imitates the allegorical form of the\\nRomaunt of the Rose, with its numberless personifica-\\ntions, its dream device, its affectation of devotion to\\nLove and his laws, its conventional background of river-\\nside. May-time, and the song of the birds, and all the\\nrest of the machinery of the poem, he nevertheless\\nmaintains toward the idea of love, or whatever happens\\nto be his subject, an attitude of healthy common sense.\\nHe is sometimes coarse but he did not wrap up sensu-\\nality in a thin veil of mysticism, and he is often least\\nimmoral where he is most indelicate.\\nTwo of Chaucer s minor poems, the Complaint to Pity,\\nand the Book of the Duchess, may be mentioned as illus-\\ntrating his French period. The former expresses the\\nsorrows of an unsuccessful lover, in the conventional", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0142.jp2"}, "143": {"fulltext": "CHAUCER 125\\nFrench way. The lover is described as one who has\\nlong sought Pity, for the purpose of presenting to her a\\nbill of complaint against Cruelty as if Pity held a court of\\njustice, in which the malicious enemies of Love might be\\nbrought to trial. He finds that Pity is dead, and his suit\\nis therefore vain. The Book of the Duchess is a lament\\nfor the death of the Duchess Blanche, wife of John of\\nGaunt. Chaucer describes himself as falling asleep over\\na book, and dreaming that he lies in bed on a May\\nmorning, listening to the song of the birds. He gets\\nup and walks out into the woods. There he finds a\\nman dressed in black (evidently John of Gaunt) who\\ntells him the story of his love, his wooing, and his be-\\nreavement. At the end of the recital the poet wakes,\\nand finds himself lying in his room with the book in his\\nhand. The widower s story is told in the French man-\\nner, with a number of actual borrowings from the\\nRomaunt of the Rose but it is wedded love that is\\ncelebrated, and the moral spirit of the poem owes\\nnothing to the school of Chrestien of Troyes.\\n39. Chaucer s Later Poems. Chaucer s French period\\nis usually said to have been followed by an Italian period,\\nand this in turn by an English period but the value of\\nthis triple distinction is questionable. His later works,\\ncomposed after he had traveled in Italy and become\\nacquainted with the writings of Dante, Petrarch, and\\nBoccaccio, show a newly awakened genius for story-tell-\\ning, for the portrayal of character, for the observation\\nand realistic description of all phases of life, and in\\nshort for most of the essentials of poetry. Some of his\\nlater poems are more directly traceable than others to", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0143.jp2"}, "144": {"fulltext": "126 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nItalian influence but the vital fact about them all is\\nthat they were comparatively free from the influence of\\nFrench literature, and as Chaucer escaped from that influ-\\nence he was escaping from the shackles of mediae valism.\\nHis longest single poem, Ti^oihis and Cressida, is\\ncommonly counted as belonging to his Italian period,\\nand it was indeed based upon a poem of Boccaccio but\\nChaucer s treatment of the old story is as thoroughly\\nEnglish, and as thoroughly his own, as most of his later\\nwork. The story is of the Trojan hero s love for the\\nfaithless Cressida, who swears eternal fidelity, but soon\\ndeserts him for the Greek Diomed. The love of Troilus\\nis intense and largely animal, like the love of heroes in\\nthe older romances, and Cressida s acceptance of it is\\nafter the old romantic pattern, furtive and dishonorable\\nbut Chaucer presents things as they are, sometimes with\\nbrutal frankness, but never with any obliquity of moral\\nvision. In a typical French romance the heroine is\\nwooed, and after long-continued coyness relents in\\nChaucer s poem she is tempted, and after some resistance\\nfalls. Moreover, the actions of both hero and heroine\\nare always prompted by intelligible motives. They are\\na man and a woman, not puppets of romance.\\nThe Legend of Good Women is an excellent instance\\nof Chaucer s new way of using old material. It is a col-\\nlection of tales from classical mythology, introduced by\\na prologue in something like the French manner but\\nboth the prologue and the tales themselves are stamped\\nwith Chaucer s individual imprint. The prologue tells\\nhow Chaucer, after a ramble through the fields on a\\nbeautiful day in May, fell asleep in an arbor, and dreamed", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0144.jp2"}, "145": {"fulltext": "CHAUCER 127\\nthat he was walking in a meadow and Ustening to the\\nsong of the birds. The God of Love came up, leading\\nby the hand Alcestis, the pattern of wifely virtue and\\ndevotion. The god addresses Chaucer wrathfully, for\\n(he says) the poet has translated the Rojnatmt of the\\nRose and written the story of Cressida, and both these\\nworks tend to make men think lightly of Love and of his\\nlaw.^ Why could he not have written of some good\\nwoman, instead of the false and wicked ones? The god\\nseems disposed to deal harshly with the poet, but Alcestis\\ngraciously intercedes* for him and obtains his pardon.\\nThe pardon, however, is granted only on condition of his\\nnow writing a book about women who, whether wives or\\nmaidens, have shown lifelong devotion and fidelity. The\\npoet wakes and proceeds to perform the condition.\\nOne curious instance of Chaucer s common-sense real-\\nism, from the body of the Legeiid, may serve as a typical\\nspecimen. He is telling the story of Dido. In Vergil s\\nJEneid, when the faithful Achates was sent to the fleet\\nfor young Ascanius, Venus induced her son to take the\\nboy s place and thus Cupid was enabled to instil his\\npoison into the breasts of ^neas and Dido. Here is\\nChaucer s version\\nRepaired is this Achates again,\\nAnd Eneas ful blisful is and fain\\nTo seen his yonge sone Ascanius.\\nBut natheless, our autour telleth us\\nThat Cupido, that is the god of love,\\nAt preyere of his moder, hye above,\\n1 So far as the Romaimt qf the Rose is concerned, this refers to parts\\nof the poem not covered by the abstract in the preceding section.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0145.jp2"}, "146": {"fulltext": "128 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nHadde the lyknes of the child y-take,^\\nThis noble quene enamoured to make\\nOn Eneas but, as of that scripture,\\nBe as be may, I make of hit no cure.\\nThe last lines mean, as for that version, be as be may,\\nI care not for it and accordingly the story proceeds\\non the assumption that the boy who came to Dido s arms\\nwas really Ascanius.\\n40. The Canterbury Tales. As Chaucer grew older, his\\nhumor and his poetic genius seemed to develop steadily.\\nAfter completing eight tales for the Legend of Good\\nWomen, he left the work unfinished and devoted himself\\nto the Canterbury Tales and it is easy to see why he\\ndid so. The latter work was also a collection of stories\\nintroduced by a prologue, but the scheme of the work\\nwas much better suited to the poet s ripened powers than\\nwas that of the Legend. In the prologue of the later\\nwork Chaucer presents a company of pilgrims, drawn\\nfrom all classes in society, meeting by chance at an inn\\non the road to Canterbury, and making their pilgrimage\\nto the shrine together. To relieve the journey, they\\nagree to tell stories on the way. The Prologue describes\\nthe pilgrims at the inn, and starts them on their way to\\nCanterbury; and the tales follow, each told by some\\nmember of the company. This scheme brought all\\nChaucer s powers into play. One of the pilgrims is a\\nknight, and his story is naturally a romance of chivalry\\nanother is a nun, who tells the legend of a saint, full\\nof the spirit of mediaeval asceticism another is a hearty\\nyoung priest, who tells a tale of the Cock and the Fox\\n1 taken.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0146.jp2"}, "147": {"fulltext": "CHAUCER 129\\nin the spirit of the early Reynard romances a brawny,\\nbrutish miller tells a comic and scurrilous :z^// and,\\nin general, as all sorts of men and women are introduced\\nin the Prologue, so the Tales themselves present all kinds\\nof subjects, from love to war and from earth to heaven.\\nThere is much trenchant satire in Chaucer s character-\\nizations. He is as severe as Langland upon the abuses\\nthat were common in the church, but his method is\\nvery different from Langland s. The latter, for exam-\\nple, keeps attacking the four orders of friars, exposing\\ntheir wickedness and declaiming against it and them;\\nChaucer s way is rather to present an individual friar,\\nand make him appear both odious and ridiculous. His\\nsatire is personal where Langland s is institutional. He\\nhated the friars more because they were contemptible\\nmen than because they were a menace to society. He\\nwas a literary artist, not a reformer. An excellent speci-\\nmen of his method is found in the Summoner s Tale,\\nwhich tells how a friar on his begging rounds came to a\\nhospitable house where he had often before had filling\\ndinners and ogled the good man s wife.\\nSo long he wente, hous by hous, til he\\nCam til an hous ther he was wont to be\\nRefresshed moore than in an hundred placis\\nSyk lay the goode man whos that the place is\\nBedrede upon a couche lowe he lay.\\nDeus hie r^ quod he, O Thomas, freend, good day\\nSeyde this frere, curteisly and softe.\\nThomas, quod he, God yelde^ yow! ful ofte\\nHave I upon this bench faren ful weel\\n1 bedridden. 2 reward.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0147.jp2"}, "148": {"fulltext": "I30 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nHeere have I eten many a myrie meel\\nAnd fro the bench he droof awey the cat,\\nAnd leyde adoun his potente and his hat,\\nAnd eek his scrippe, and sette hym softe adoun.\\nChaucer s best comic creation is the Wife of Bath.\\nShe is middle-aged, stout, and jovially healthy, and wins\\nready forgiveness for most of her shortcomings by her\\nbreezy frankness in confessing them. Before she begins\\nher tale she gives the company a garrulous sketch of her\\nown life, and even Shakespeare s Falstaff could hardly\\nreveal himself better. Some extracts from her discourse\\nwill perhaps give a fairer impression of Chaucer s ver-\\nsatility than any other single passage could give. It\\nmust be remembered, however, that a great poet is fully\\nknown only w^hen all his works are read. Chaucer s\\ntragic power, for example, is hardly suggested in the\\nexcerpts which follow.\\nChaucer s pronunciation was very different from ours,\\nand the melody of his verse, which is often exquisite,\\ncannot be appreciated without a knowledge of at least\\none of the differences. In the following extracts a grave\\naccent is used where the letter e (now silent) had in\\nChaucer s speech a syllabic value. The word telle,\\nfor example, should have the final vowel lightly sounded,\\nsomewhat like the a in Ella. The presence in Chaucer s\\nlanguage of a great number of words with the letter e thus\\npronounced enabled the poet to secure a certain fluency\\nof style which is now almost impossible. A striking\\nillustration of this fact may be seen in Chaucer s line\\nAs thikke as motes in the sonne-beem.\\n1 staff.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0148.jp2"}, "149": {"fulltext": "CHAWCER 131\\nTwo later poets imitated this line. Milton wrote\\nAs the gay motes that people the sun-beams\\nand Dryden wrote\\nThick as the motes that twinkle in the sun.\\nIt is clear that Middle English was somewhat inferior\\nto our modern speech in terseness and vigor. It is\\neasier for us to write compactly than it was for Chau-\\ncer but it was easier for him to write with a melodious\\nfluency.\\n{The Prologe of the Wyves Tale of Bathe\\nNow, sire, now wol I telle forth my tale.\\nAs evere moote I drinken wyn or ale,\\n195 I shal seye sooth of housbondes that I hadde.\\nAs thre of hem were goode, and two were badde.\\nBut, Lord Crist whan that it remembreth me\\n470 Upon my yowthe, and on my jolitee.\\nIt tikleth me aboute myn herte roote\\nUnto this day it dooth myn herte boote\\nThat I have had my world, as in my time.\\nBut Age, alias that al wole envenyme,\\n475 Hath me biraft my beautee and my pith,\\nLat go, fare w^el, the devel go therwith\\nThe flour is goon, ther is namoore to telle,\\nThe bren, as I best kan, now moste I selle\\nBut yet to be right myrie wol I fonde.^\\n480 Now wol I tellen of my fourthe housbonde.\\n1 heart s. good. try.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0149.jp2"}, "150": {"fulltext": "132 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\n495 He deyde whan I cam fro Jerusalem,\\nAnd lith y-grave under the roode-beem,^\\nAl^ is his tombe noght so curyus\\nAs was the sepulcre of hym Daryus,\\nWhich that Apelles wroghte subtilly\\n500 It nys but wast to burye hym preciously.\\nLat hym fare wel, God geve his soule reste,\\nHe is now in his grave and in his cheste\\nNow of my iifthe housbonde wol I telle.\\nGod lete hise soule nevere come in helle\\n505 And yet was he to me the mooste shrewe\\nThat feel I on my ribbes al-by-rewe.^\\n[But] thogh he hadde me bet on every bon,\\nHe koude wynne agayn my love anon.\\nI trowe I loved hym beste for that he\\nWas of his love daungerous to me.\\n5^5 We wommen han, if that I shal nat lye,\\nIn this matere a queynte fantasye\\nWayte what thing we may nat lightly have,\\nTher after wol we crie al day and crave.\\nForbede us thyng, and that desiren we\\n520 Preesse on us faste and thanne wol we fie.\\n525 My fifthe housbonde, God his soule blesse\\nWhich that I took for love, and no richesse,\\nHe somtyme was a clerk of Oxenford,\\nAnd hadde left scole and wente at hom to bord\\nWith my gossib,^ dwellynge in oure toun\\n530 God have hir soule, hir name was Alisoun.\\nShe knew my herte, and eek my privetee,\\nBet^^ than oure parisshe preest, as moot I thee.^^\\n1 buried. 2 beam bearing a crucifix in church. although.\\nelaborate. ill-natured. all in a row. beaten. niggardly,\\nundemonstrative. crony. i^ better. thrive.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0150.jp2"}, "151": {"fulltext": "CHAUCER 133\\nAnd so bifel that ones in a Lente,\\nSo often tymes I to my gossyb wente,\\n545 For evere yet I loved to be gay,\\nAnd for to walke in March, Averill and May,\\nFro hous to hous to heere sondry talys,\\nThat Jankyn clerk, and my gossyb dame Alys\\nAnd I myself into the feeldes wente.\\n550 Myn housbonde was at London al that Lente\\nI hadde the bettre leyser for to pleye.\\nAnd for to se, and eek for to be seye\\nOf lusty folk. What wiste I wher my grace\\nWas shapen for to be, or in what place\\n555 Therfore I made my visitaciouns\\nTo vigilies and to processiouns.\\nTo prechyng eek, and to thise pilgrimages.\\nTo pleyes of myracles, and to mariages.\\nAnd wered upon my gaye scarlet gytes.^\\n560 Thise wormes, ne thise motthes, ne thise mytes\\nUpon my peril frete hem never-a-deel.^\\nAnd wostow^ why For they were used weel.\\nNow wol I tellen forth what happed me.\\nI seye that in the feeldes walked we,\\n565 Till trewely we hadde swich daliaunce,\\nThis clerk and I, that of my purveiance\\nI spak to hym, and seyde hym how that he,\\nIf I were wydwe, sholde wedde me\\nFor certeinly, I sey for no bobance,^\\n570 Yet was I nevere withouten purveiance\\nOf mariage, nof othere thynges eek.\\nI holde a mouses herte nat worth a leek\\nThat hath but oon hole for to sterte to,\\nAnd if that faille thanne is al y-do.\\n575 I bar hym on honde he hadde enchanted me,\\n1 seen. 2 wakes. stockings (or perhaps petticoats). eat.\\nnot at all. knowest thou. i.e., by way of provision for the\\nfuture. 8 boast. accused him.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0151.jp2"}, "152": {"fulltext": "134 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nMy dame taughte me that soutiltee/\\nAnd eek I seyde, I mette of hym al nyght,\\nHe wolde han slayn me as I lay upright,^\\nAnd al my bed was ful of verray blood\\n5S0 But yet I hope that he shal do me good,\\nFor blood bitokeneth gold, as me was taught\\nAnd al was fals, I dremed of it right naught.\\nBut I folwed ay my dames loore.\\nAs wel of this as of othere thynges moore.\\n585 But now, sire, lat me se, what I shal seyn\\nA ha by God, I have my tale ageyn.\\nWhan that my fourthe housbonde was on beere\\nI weepte algate^ and made sory cheere,\\nAs wyves mooten,^ for it is usage,\\n590 And with my coverchief covered my visage\\nBut, for that I was purveyed of a make,^\\nI wepte but smal, and that I undertake\\nTo chirche was myn housbonde born a-morwe\\nWith neighebores, that for hym maden sorwe,\\n595 And Jankyn, oure clerk, was oon of tho.\\nAs help me God, whan that I saugh hym go\\nAfter the beere, me thoughte he hadde a paire\\nOf legges and of feet so clene and faire,\\nThat al myn herte I gaf unto his hoold.\\nWhat sholde I seye, but at the monthes ende\\nThis joly clerk, Jankyn, that was so hende,^\\nHath wedded me with greet solempnytee,\\n630 And to hym gaf I all the lond and fee,\\nThat evere was me geven ther-bifoore\\nBut afterward repented me ful soore.\\nHe nolde suffre nothyng of my list\\nBy God, he smoot me ones on the lyst,^^\\n1 subtilty. 2 dreamed. on my back. bier. to be sure.\\nmust. spouse. on the morrow. agreeable. ear.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0152.jp2"}, "153": {"fulltext": "CHAUCER 135\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2635 For that I rente out of his book a leef,\\nThat of the strook myn ere wax al deef.\\nBut now to purpos why I tolde thee\\nThat I was beten for a book, par dee.\\nUpon a nyght Jankyn, that was oure sire,\\nRedde on his book, as he sat by the fire,\\n715 Of Eva first, that for hir wikkednesse\\nWas al mankynde broght to wrecchednesse;\\nFor which that Jesus Crist hymself was slayn.\\nThat boghte us with his herte blood agayn.\\nLo, heere expres of womman may ye fynde,\\n720 That womman was the los of al mankynde.\\nTho redde he me how Sampson loste hise heres\\nSlepynge, his lemman kitte it with hir sheres\\nThurgh which tresoun loste he bothe hise eyen.\\nTho redde he me, if that I shal nat lyen,\\n725 Of Hercules and of his Dianyre,\\nThat caused hym to sette hymself afyre.\\nAnd whan I saugh he wolde nevere fyne^\\nTo reden on this cursed book al nyght,\\n790 Al sodeynly thre leves have I plyght^\\nOut of his book, right as he radde, and eke\\nI with my fest so took hym on the cheke.\\nThat in oure fyr he fil bakward adoun;\\nAnd he up stirte as dooth a wood leoun,\\n795 And with his fest he smoot me on the heed,\\nThat in the floor I lay as I were deed\\nAnd whan he saugh how stille that I lay.\\nHe was agast and wolde han fled his way,\\nTil atte laste out of my swogh I breyde.^\\n800 O hastow slayn me, false theef I seyde\\nAnd for my land thus hastow mordred me\\n1 sweetheart, 2 g^ase, plucked, mad, at the, awgke.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0153.jp2"}, "154": {"fulltext": "136 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nEr I be deed, yet wol I kisse thee.\\nAnd neer he cam, and kneled faire adoun.\\nAnd seyde, Deere suster Alisoun\\n805 As help me God, I shal thee nevere smyte.\\nThat I have doon it is thyself to wyte,^\\nForgeve it me, and that I thee biseke\\nAnd yet, eft-soones, I hitte hym on the cheke.\\nAnd seyde, ^^Theef thus muchel am I wreke.^\\n810 Now wol I dye, I may no lenger speke.\\nBut atte laste, with muchel care and wo.\\nWe fille acorded by us selven two.\\nHe gaf me al the bridel in myn hond.\\nTo han the governance of hous and lond,\\n815 And of his tonge, and of his hond also.\\nAnd made hym brenne his book anon right tho\\nAnd whan that I hadde geten unto me\\nBy maistrie al the soveraynetee,\\nAnd that he seyde, Myn owene trewe wyf,\\n820 Do as thee lust to terme^ of al thy lyf\\nKeepe thyn honour, and keepe eek myn estaat,\\nAfter that day we hadden never debaat.\\nGod helpe me so, I was to hym as kynde\\nAs any wyf from Denmark unto Ynde,\\n825 And also trewe, and so was he to me.\\nI prey to God, that sit in magestee.\\nSo blesse his soule for his mercy deere.\\nNow wol I seye my tale, if ye wol heere.\\nThe Frere lough whan he hadde herd al this\\n830 Now, dame, quod he, so have I joye or blis.\\nThis is a long preamble of a tale.\\nAnd whan the Somonour herde the Frere gale,\\nLo, quod the Somonour, Goddes armes two!\\nA frere wol entremette him evere-mo.\\n1 blame. avenged. the end, laughed. Summoner,\\na kind of bailiff. intrude.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0154.jp2"}, "155": {"fulltext": "CHAUCER 137\\n835 Lo, goode men, a flye, and eek a frere,\\nWol falle in every dysshe and eek mateere.\\nWhat spekestow of preambulacioun\\nWhat amble, or trotte, or pees, or go sit doun\\nThou lettest^ oure disport in this manere.\\n840 Ye, woltow so, sire Somonour quod the Frere\\nNow, by my feith I shal, er that I go,\\nTelle of a somonour swich a tale or two\\nThat alle the folk shal laughen in this place.\\nNow, elles, Frere, I bishrewe thy face\\n845 Quod this Somonour, and I bishrewe me\\nBut if I telle tales, two or thre.\\nOf freres, er I come to Sidyngborne,\\nThat I shal make thyn herte for to morne.\\nFor wel I woot thy pacience is gon.\\n850 Our Hooste cride, Pees and that anon\\nAnd seyde, Lat the womman telle hire tale\\nYe fare as folk that dronken ben of ale.\\nDo, dame, telle forth youre tale, and that is best.\\nAl redy, sire, quod she, right as yow lest;\\n855 If I have licence of this worthy Frere.\\nYis, dame, quod he, tel forth, and I wol heere.\\nHere endeth the Wyf of Bathe hir Prologe a?id bigynneih\\nhir tale.\\nIn tholde dayes of the Kyng Arthour,\\nOf which that Britons speken greet honour.\\nAll was this land fulfild of fairye.^\\n860 The elf queene with hir joly compaignye\\nDaunced ful ofte in many a grene mede.\\nThis was the olde opinion as I rede,\\nI speke of manye hundred yeres ago,\\nBut now kan no man se none elves mo,\\n865 For now the grete charitee and prayeres\\n1 hinderest. troops of fairies.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0155.jp2"}, "156": {"fulltext": "138 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nOf lymytours/ and othere hooly freres,\\nThat serchen every lond and every streem,\\nAs thikke as motes in the sonne beem,\\nBlessynge halles, chambres, kichenes, boures,\\n870 Citees, burghes, castels, hye toures,\\nThropes,^ bernes, shipnes,^ dayeryes,\\nThis maketh that ther been no fairyes\\nFor ther as wont to walken was an elf,\\nTher walketh now the lymytour hymself,\\n875 In undermeles^ and in morwenynges,\\nAnd seyth his matyns and his hooly thynges\\nAs he gooth in his lymytacioun.^\\nWommen may go saufly up and doun\\nIn every bussh or under every tree,\\n880 Ther is noon oother incubus but he,\\nAnd he ne wol doon hem non dishonour.\\n(The tale then tells how one of Arthur s knights, being\\nunder sentence of death for a violent crime, was promised\\nhis liberty if he would, within a twelvemonth and a day,\\ntell the queen what thing it is that women most desire.\\nHe sought everywhere for an answer, and was returning to\\nhis death when he met an ugly old woman who agreed to\\nsave him, on his promise to marry her. She prompted\\nhim to tell the queen that women most desire sovereignty\\nover their husbands. The answer was accepted, and he\\nmarried the old woman. When they were left alone, after\\nthe ceremony, he turned his back upon her in disgust.\\nShe pleads with him.)\\nWhat is my guilt For Goddes love, tel it.\\nAnd it shal been amended, if I may.\\nAmended! quod this knight, alias! nay, nay!\\nIt wol nat been amended nevere mo,\\n1 100 Thou art so loothly, and so oold also,\\n1 licensed begging friars. villages. stables. afternoons\\nlimits within which he may beg, etc.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0156.jp2"}, "157": {"fulltext": "CHAUCER 139\\nAnd ther-to comen of so lough a kynde,\\nThat litel wonder is thogh I walwe and wynde.^\\nSo, wolde God myn herte wolde breste\\nIs this, quod she, the cause of youre unreste\\n1105 Ye, certeinly, quod he, no wonder is.\\nNow, sire, quod she, I koude amende al this.\\nIf that me liste, er it were dayes thre\\nSo wel ye myghte here yow unto me.\\nBut for ye speken of swich gentillesse\\n1 1 10 As is descended out of old richesse\\nThat therfore sholden ye be gentil men,\\nSwich arrogance is nat worth an hen.\\nLooke, who that is moost vertuous alway,\\nPryvee and apert,^ and moost entendeth ay\\nII 15 To do the gentil dedes that he kan,\\nTak hym for the grettest gentil man.\\nCrist wole we clayme of hym oure gentillesse,\\nNat of oure eldres for hire old richesse\\nFor, thogh they geve us al hir heritage,\\n1 1 20 For which we clayme to been of heigh parage,^\\nYet may they nat biquethe for no thyng,\\nTo noon of us, hir vertuous lyvyng.\\nThat made hem gentil men y-called be.\\nAnd bad us folwen hem in swich degree.\\n(She adds that, so far as his objection relates to her\\nage and ugliness, he ought to be well pleased, for a young\\nand beautiful wife might give him much trouble by her\\nflightiness.)\\nBut natheless, syn I knowe youre delit,\\nI shal fulfille youre worldly appetit.\\nChese now, quod she, oon of thise thynges tweye\\n1220 To han me foul and old til that I deye.\\nAnd be to yow a trewe, humble wyf,\\nAnd nevere yow displese in al my lyf\\n1 writhe and turn. 2 secret. open, dignity. follow.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0157.jp2"}, "158": {"fulltext": "I40 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nOr elles ye wol han me yong and fair,\\nAnd take youre aventure of the repair\\n1225 That shal be to youre hous by cause of me,\\nOr in som oother place may wel be\\nNow chese yourselven, wheither that yow liketh.\\nThis knyght avyseth hym and sore siketh\\nBut atte laste he seyde in this manere\\n1230 My lady and my love, and wyf so deere,\\nI put me in youre wise governance\\nCheeseth youre self which may be moost plesance.\\nAnd moost honour to yow and nie also\\nI do no fors the wheither of the two,\\n1235 For as yow liketh it suffiseth me.\\nThanne have I gete of yow maistrie, quod she,\\nSyn I may chese, and governe as me lest\\n^*Ye, certes, wyf, quod he, *I holde it best.\\nKys me, quod she, we be no lenger wrothe,\\n1240 For by my trouthe, I wol be to yow bothe,\\nThis is to seyn, ye, bothe fair and good.\\nI prey to God that I moote sterven wood,^\\nBut I to yow be al so good and trewe.\\nAs evere was wyf syn that the world was newe\\n1245 And but I be to-morn as fair to scene\\nAs any lady, emperice, or queene.\\nThat is bitwixe the est and eek the west,\\nDooth with my lyf and deth right as you lest.\\nCast up the curtyn, looke, how that it is.\\n1250 And whan the knyght saugh verraily al this.\\nThat she so fair was, and so yong ther-to.\\nFor joye he hente hire in hise armes two,\\nHis herte bathed in a bath of blisse\\nA thousand tyme arewe he gan hire kisse,\\n1255 And she obeyed hym in every thyng\\nThat myghte doon hym plesance or likyng.\\n1 sigheth. 2 I Q2iYQ not, die. m^d. unless.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0158.jp2"}, "159": {"fulltext": "CHAPTER VIII\\nTHE END OF THE MIDDLE AGES\\n41. The Chaucerian School. During a great part of the\\nfifteenth century England was at war either with France\\nor within her own borders. The time was not favorable\\nto literature, but it was by no means so barren as most\\nhistorians represent it. No long poem of the highest\\ngrade was produced, and the poets whose names are\\nbest known, such as Lydgate and Occleve, were poor\\nones but there were many poets of less repute who did\\npleasing and graceful work, and there was one great\\nmaster of prose. Sir Thomas Malory.\\nAbout forty of the minor poems of this period were\\nformerly attributed to Chaucer, and many of them are\\nto be found in the older editions of his works. It is\\neasy for modern scholars to see, by linguistic evidence,\\nthat they must have been written by other persons but\\na superficial resemblance to some of Chaucer s work was\\nenough to deceive the earlier editors. Thus the achieve-\\nment of Chaucer was exaggerated by many thousand\\nlines, and the credit of the fifteenth century correspond-\\ningly diminished, on the principle that unto him that\\nhath shall be given, but from him that hath not shall be\\ntaken away even that which he hath.\\nOne obvious reason for this mistake is the fact that\\nmany of the fifteenth-century poets purposely imitated\\nI4X", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0159.jp2"}, "160": {"fulltext": "142 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nChaucer. They felt his greatness and cordially acknowl-\\nedged it. Occleve, for example, has the following lines\\nin the prologue of his principal poem\\nO maister dere and fader reverent,\\nMy maister Chaucer floure of eloquence,\\nMirrour of fructuous entendement,\\nuniversal fadir in science,\\nAlias that thou thyne excellent prudence\\nIn thy bedde mortell myghtest not bequethe\\nWhat eyled Dethe alias why wold he sle thee\\nDethe, that didest not harme singulere\\nIn slaughtre of hym, but alle this lond it smerteth\\nBut natheless yit hast thow no powere\\nHis name to slee his hye vertu asterteth\\nUnslayne fro thee, whiche ay us lyfly herteth\\nWith bookes of his ornat endityng.\\nThat is to alle this londe enlumynyng.\\nAnd about the middle of the century the Scotch poet,\\nHenry son, in the prologue of his Testament of Cress eid^\\nexplains how he happened to light upon his subject\\n1 mend the fire, and beikit me about.\\nThan tuik a drink my spreitis to comfort.\\nAnd armit me weill fra the cauld thairout;\\nTo cut the winter nicht and mak it schort,\\n1 tuik ane Quair,^ and left all uther sport,\\nWrittin be worthie Chaucer glorious\\nOf fair Cresseid and lusty Troilus.\\nSuch references to Chaucer were very common. Imi-\\ntations of him, often unavowed, but none the less obvious,\\nwere still commoner. As we find, however, that Gower\\nJ encourages. mended. bustled, spirits. quire, book,", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0160.jp2"}, "161": {"fulltext": "THE END OF THE MIDDLE AGES I43\\nwas praised in terms only less high, we feel cautious\\nabout crediting the age with fine literary discrimination\\nand we are not surprised to find that most of the imita-\\ntions were far inferior to the model. The later poets\\nseem indeed to have imitated those elements in Chaucer\\nwhich were least worth imitating. They followed him\\nwhere he was following mediaeval fashions, but they were\\nunable even to enter upon the paths that he had struck\\nout for himself. Consequently we find hundreds of lines\\nof chivalrous romance and allegory, with the little birds\\nsinging in the May-time and the poets falling asleep to\\ndream of the god of love but seldom do we find the\\nstrain of feeling that made Chaucer s mediaevalism\\nmodern, or the touch of his masterful style.\\n42. The Kingis Quair and the Court of Love. King\\nJames the First of Scotland was captured in his boyhood\\nby the English, and grew up in England a prisoner. One\\nof the best poems of the Chaucerian school. The Kingis\\nQiiai} (King s Book), which purports to have been (and\\nperhaps actually was) written by him, tells that during\\nhis captivity he saw from his prison window the beautiful\\nJoan Beaufort walking in the castle garden below, and\\nimmediately his whole heart became hers. The poet\\nuses the machinery of the Romaimt of the Rose, telling\\nus that while the lady walked there the birds all sang a\\nhappy chorus, and when she went away he fell asleep\\nand dreamed that he was transported to the court of\\nLove, where he prayed to Cupid and his mother for aid\\nin his extremity. It is easy to see, however, that this\\npoet treats the old material in a new spirit of sincere\\nfervor. The love that he was celebrating was honest", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0161.jp2"}, "162": {"fulltext": "144 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nand genuine, and the quaint symbolism that he borrowed\\nfor it from the older poets had for him a deeper meaning\\nthan it had for them. Venus told him, in his dream, that\\nhe must go to Minerva for counsel, and the latter, after\\nsaying that there were different ways of loving, explained\\nher meaning as follows\\nLo, my gude sone, this is als mich to seyne,\\nAs, gif thy luf e sett all utterly\\nOf nyce lust,^ thy travail is in veyne\\nAnd so the end sail turne of thy folye\\nTo payne and repentance lo, wate thou quhy\\nGif the^ ne list on lufe thy vertew set,\\nVertu sail be the cause of thy forfet.^\\nTak him before in all thy governance,\\nThat in his hand the stere has of 30U all,\\nAnd pray unto his hye purveyance.\\nThy lufe to gye,^ and on him traist and call.\\nThat corner-stone and ground is of the wall.\\nThat failis noght, and trust, withoutin drede.\\nUnto thy purpose sone he sail the lede.\\nBe trewe, and meke, and stedfast in thy thoght,\\nAnd diligent hir merci to procure,\\nNoght onely in thy word for word is noght,\\nBot gif thy werk and all thy besy cure\\nAccord thereto.\\nThe poet who wrote this was evidently something more\\nthan an imitator, and the following dedicatory stanza\\nshows rather les^s discrimination than might have been\\nexpected of him.\\n1 if. 2 depends. on foolish desire. knowest thou why thee.\\ndownfall. i.e., God. guidance. guide. but if unless.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0162.jp2"}, "163": {"fulltext": "THE END OF THE MIDDLE AGES 145\\nUnto the impnis of my maisteris dere,\\nGowere and chaucere, that on the steppis satt\\nOf rethorike, quhill thai were lyvand here,\\nSuperlative as poetis laureate\\nIn moralitee and eloquence ornate,\\nI recommend my buk in lynis sevin.\\nAnd eke thair saulis unto the blisse of hevin. Amen.\\nThe Court of Love, one of the poems formerly attrib-\\nuted to Chaucer, is made of the same old material as The\\nKingis Quair. The poet-lover tells us that he v^ent to\\nthe Court of Love v^hen he was eighteen years of age,\\nand there at the king s command was instructed in the\\nlaws of the realm. Twenty statutes are set forth in full\\nas he found them in the statute-book but it is clear,\\nfrom the way they are put, that this poet was reviving\\nthe old forms from the Romaunt of the Rose merely in\\na spirit of levity. The god and his laws are no more\\nto be taken seriously than the King s court in Alice in\\nWonderland, Here are some of the statutes\\nThe eleventh statut Thy signes for to con\\nWith y and finger, and with smyles soft.\\nAnd low to cough, and alway for to shon,\\nFor dred of spyes, for to winken oft\\nBut secretly to bring a sigh a-loft.\\nAnd eke beware of over-moch resort\\nFor that, paraventure, spilleth al thy sport.\\nThe fifteenth statut Use to swere and stare.\\nAnd counterfet a lesing^ hardely.\\nTo save thy ladys honour every-where,\\nAnd put thyself to fight for her boldly\\n1 hymns, poems. while. know. company. falsehood.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0163.jp2"}, "164": {"fulltext": "146 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nSey she is good, virtuous, and gostly,^\\nClere of entent, and herte, and thought and wille\\nAnd argue not, for reson ne for skille,\\nAgayn thy ladys plesir ne entent,\\nFor love wil not be countrepleted, indede\\nSey as she seith, than shalt thou not be shent,^\\nThe crow is whyte ye, truly, so I rede\\nAnd ay what thing that she thee will forbede.\\nEschew all that, and give her sovereintee,\\nHer appetyt folow in all degree.\\nThe poet of The Kingis Quair v^ould hardly have\\nadmitted into his statute-book a law which recognized the\\nnecessity of lying to save the honor of one s lady. A\\nlittle farther on in The Court of Love the author s comic\\nand satiric purpose becomes yet more apparent. .He\\nsays he read through all the statutes relating to men,\\nwith an officer of the court named Rigor watching him\\nand then,\\nI turned leves, loking on this boke.\\nWhere other statuts were of women shene\\nAnd right furthwith Rigour on me gan loke\\nFull angrily, and seid unto the quene\\nI traitour was, and charged me let been\\nThere may no man, quod he, the statuts know,\\nThat long to woman, hy degree ne low.\\nAnd at the end of the poem there is another touch of\\nhumor. We are told that it is May-day, and that the\\nbirds are singing psalms and anthems in the trees the\\ndescription of their chorus is prettily done indeed it is\\none of the daintiest of all these ornithological passages\\n1 holy. 2 rejected. fair.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0164.jp2"}, "165": {"fulltext": "THE END OF THE MIDDLE AGES I47\\nbut after all the other birds have had their turn, the\\ncuckoo pipes up. He, it will be understood, is a bird of\\nill-omen to all true lovers.\\nAnd furth the cokkow gan precede anon,\\nWith Be7iedictus^^ thanking god in hast,\\nThat in this May wold visit thaim echon,\\nAnd gladden thaim all whyl the fest shal last\\nAnd therewithall a-loughter out he brast,\\nI thank it god that I shuld end the song.\\nAnd all the service which hath been so long.\\nIt should be noted that while the author of The\\nKingis Quair and the author of The Court of Love\\nseem men of radically different temperaments, they\\nhave this at least in common they are not satisfied\\nwith the old hollow conventions of court allegory.\\nThey express their dissatisfaction in different ways, one\\nby an attempt at radical reform, the other by a light-\\nhearted parody. Each in his way was a sincerer artist\\nthan the original poet of the Romaunt of the Rose, for\\neach was nearer to real life though in the second of\\nour two poets we find realism only in so far as he pricks\\nthe bubble of the conventional romance. His poem is\\nto the true court allegory what the fabliau was to the\\nromance.\\nAll the poems thus far quoted in this chapter were\\nwritten in a stanza-form known as the *rime royal,\\nowing to its use by the author of The Kingis Quair. It\\nhad been a favorite stanza with Chaucer, appearing,\\nfor example, in Troilus and Cressida, and was naturally\\npopular with his imitators.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0165.jp2"}, "166": {"fulltext": "148 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\n43. Maundevile*s Travels. A remarkable book of\\ntravels, purporting to be by Sir John Maundevile, was\\nfirst published in French about 1 360, and translated into\\nEnglish perhaps half a century later. The author was\\nprobably John de Bourgogne and certainly Maundevile\\nhimself, the traveler, was as purely a fictitious person as\\nGulliver or Robinson Crusoe. The book seems to have\\nbeen made up partly from the author s imagination and\\npartly from the stories of earlier travelers, and it is with-\\nout any value as a record of fact but it is a very enter-\\ntaining work, and is not without interest for the serious\\nstudent of mediaeval thought. A few passages, selected\\nalmost at random, will illustrate its character.\\nIn Ethiope alle the ryveres and alle the watres ben\\ntrouble, and thai ben somdelle salte, for the gret hete\\nthat is there. And the folk of that contree ben lyghtly\\ndronken, and han but litille appetyt to mete and thei\\nlyven not longe. In Ethiope ben many dyverse folk and\\nEthiope is clept Cusis. In that contree ben folk, that han\\nbut o foot and thei gon so fast that it is marvaylle and\\nthe foot is so large that it schadewethe alle the body a^en\\nthe Sonne, whanne theiwole lye and reste hem. In Ethiope,\\nwhan the children ben 3onge and lytille, thei ben alle ^elowe\\nand. whan that thei wexen of age, that 3alownesse turnethe\\nto ben alle blak.\\nIn passynge be the lond of Cathaye, toward the highe\\nYnde, and toward Bacharye, men passen be a kyngdom\\nthat men clepen Caldilhe that is a fuUe fair contree. And\\nthere growethe a maner of fruyt, as thoughe it weren\\ngowrdes and whan thei ben rype, men kutten hem a to,\\nand men fynden with inne a lytylle best, in flessche, in bon\\nand blode, as though it were a lytylle lomb, with outen", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0166.jp2"}, "167": {"fulltext": "THE END OF THE MIDDLE AGES I49\\nwolle. And men eten bothe the frut and the best and\\nthat is a gret marveylle. Of that frute I have eten alle\\nthoughe it were wondirfulle but that I knowe wel, that\\nGod is marveyllous in his werkes.\\nAnd alle be it that men fynden gode dyamandes in\\nYnde, 3it natheless men fynden hem more comounly upon\\nthe roches in the see, and upon hilles where the myne of\\ngold is. And thei growen many to gedre, on lytille, an-\\nother gret. And ther ben sume of the gretnesse of a bene,\\nand sume als grete as an haselle note. And thei ben\\nsquare and poynted of here owne kynde, bothe aboven\\nand benethen, with outen worchinge of mannes hond.\\nAnd thei growen to gedre, male and femele. And thei\\nben norysscht with the dew of hevene. And thei engen-\\ndren comounly, and bryngen forthe smale children, that\\nmultiplyen and growen alle the 3eer. I have often tymes\\nassayed, that 3if a man kepe hem with a litylle of the roche,\\nand wete hem with May dew ofte sithes, thei schulle growe\\neveryche ^eer and the smale wole wexen grete. For righte\\nas the fyn perl congelethe and wexethe gret of the dew of\\nhevene, righte so dothe the verray dyamand and righte\\nas the perl of his owne kynde takethe roundnesse, righte so\\nthe dyamand, be vertu of God, takethe squarenesse. And\\nmen schalle bere the dyamaund on his left syde for it is\\nof grettere vertue thanne, than on the righte syde. For\\nthe strengthe of here growynge is toward the Northe, that\\nis the left syde of the world and the left parte of man is,\\nwhan he turnethe his face toward the Est.\\nMaundevile s natural philosophy is characteristic of\\nhis time. During the middle ages science not only\\nmade little progress in some departments it actually\\nlost ground. The reason for this is undoubtedly to\\nbe found chiefly in the character of mediaeval religion.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0167.jp2"}, "168": {"fulltext": "150 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nAsceticism dominated the world of thought to such an\\nextent that the best minds regarded mundane specula-\\ntion as folly. Why should man waste time in observa-\\ntion of material phenomena, when so few years were\\nallotted him to provide for the salvation of his soul\\nThe conviction deepened that the Bible and the early\\nfathers of the church were the sources of all useful\\nknowledge and so the habit grew, all through the\\nmiddle ages, of deriving information not from nature\\nbut from old and approved authorities. Major est\\nscripturae auctoritas, wrote St. Augustine, quam\\nomnis humani ingenii capacitas and this was the\\ngolden text of all mediaeval philosophy. When nature\\nwas studied at all, it was likely to be studied in a mys-\\ntical spirit. The world was God s creation, the expres-\\nsion in matter of God s eternal mind and the study\\nof nature was thought profitable only because it was\\na way of contemplating Him. This mystical method\\ndestroyed science. When, for example, a learned man\\nsaw a flock of gulls fishing, he did not think of observ-\\ning their habits he thought only of the insatiate appe-\\ntite of the devil for men s souls. The belief that the\\nlion dragged dust after him with his tail, in order to\\nhide his footsteps, was not questioned, for it was au-\\nthorized by holy fathers and it symbolized the secret\\norigin of our Saviour. Natural phenomena had a higher\\nvalue than for laboratory purposes.\\nNevertheless, Maundevile shows some glimmering\\ncomprehension of scientific method. The following\\nextracts are far more advanced, in their scientific\\nspirit, than the passage about diamonds.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0168.jp2"}, "169": {"fulltext": "THE END OF THE MIDDLE AGES 151\\nIn that lond, ne in many othere be^onde that, no man\\nmay see the Sterre transmontane, that is clept the Sterre of\\nthe See, that is unmevable, and that is toward the Northe,\\nthat we clepen the Lode Sterre. But men seen another\\nsterre, the contrarie to him, that is toward the Southe, that\\nis clept Antartyk. For whiche cause, men may wel\\nperceyve that the lond and the see ben of rownde schapp\\nand forme. For the partie of the firmament schewethe in\\ncontree, that schewethe not in another contree. And\\nmen may well preven be experience and sotyle compasse-\\nment of wytt, that ^if a man fond passages be schippes,\\nthat wolde go to serchen the world, men myghte go be\\nschippe alle aboute the world, and aboven and benethen.\\nThe whiche thing I prove thus, aftre that I have seyn.\\n1 have gon toward the parties meridionales, that is toward\\nthe Southe, and I have founden that in Lybye men seen\\nfirst the Sterre Antartyk. And so fer I have gon more\\nforthe in tho contrees, that I have founde that sterre more\\nhighe; so that toward the highe Lybye it is 18 degrees\\nof heghte and certeyn minutes (of the whiche, 60 minutes\\nmaken a degree). Be the whiche I seye 30U certeynly\\nthat men may envirowne alle the Erthe of alle the world,\\nas wel undre as aboven, and turnen a^en to his contree,\\nthat hadde companye and schippynge and conduyt.\\nAlso 3ee have herd me seye that Jerusalem is in the myddes\\nof the world and that may men preven and schewen there\\nbe a spere, that is pighte in to the erthe, upon the hour of\\nmydday, whan it is Equenoxium, that schew^ethe no schadwe\\non no syde.\\nThe argument that the earth is round is a good speci-\\nmen of scientific reasoning. Maundevile s premises are\\ninaccurate, for there is no such star a^ the Sterre\\nAntartyk; but his method is distinctly better than\\nreasoning that the world must be round, because God", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0169.jp2"}, "170": {"fulltext": "152 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nmade it and the circle is the perfect figure. His iden-\\ntification of the center of the earth with Jerusalem is\\nestablished by similarly questionable means, for it is not\\ntrue that a spear placed erect will cast no shadow there\\nat the time of the equinox but there was more hope\\nfor science in such an argument than in the usual\\ncontention that it must be so, for the prophet Ezekiel\\nsaid so.\\n44. Ballads. At the present time we depend for\\nour literature almost wholly upon books and papers, yet\\neven now there are some popular songs well known to\\nthousands of people, which it would be hard to find in\\nprint. A few centuries ago literature of this sort was\\nvery common, and not a few of the ballads that passed\\nfrom mouth to mouth in the fourteenth, fifteenth, and\\nsixteenth centuries have survived by oral tradition even\\nto our own time. The term ballad is often loosely\\nused for almost any kind of song, but more strictly it is\\napplied to these traditional songs of the people. We\\ndo not know who composed them, nor (in most cases)\\nhow old they are. They are generally narrative poems,\\nand they tell stories which were doubtless popularly\\nknown before the ballads took shape but just how these\\nstories crept from mere tradition into verse, we cannot\\ntell. It is generally agreed that the fifteenth century\\nwas especially productive of ballads, and for that reason\\nthey are considered in this chapter but it must be\\nremembered that they were not then a new thing, and\\nthat they did -not then die out. Many of them have\\nclose parallels in other Indo-European languages, which\\nseem to suggest for their substance, and sometimes", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0170.jp2"}, "171": {"fulltext": "THE END OF THE MIDDLE AGES 1 53\\neven for their form, a very great antiquity while\\nothers, seemingly of the same general character, are\\nfounded upon actual events knowTi to have occurred\\nas late as the eighteenth century.\\nThe favorite form of the true popular ballad is the\\nso-called ballad stanza\\nIn somer, when the shawes be sheyne,^\\nAnd leves be large and long,\\nHit is full mery in feyre foreste\\nTo here the foulys song\\nTo se the dere draw to the dale,\\nAnd leve the hilles hee.\\nAnd shadow hem in the leves grene.\\nUnder the grene-wode tre.\\nMany of the ballads are cheap and vulgar, while many\\n(like the verses just quoted) have an exquisite beauty\\nwhich few of our more lettered poets can rival but\\nabsolute simplicity is characteristic of them all. They\\ntell of the sort of incidents and emotions that appeal to\\nthe popular heart, and they speak the popular language.\\nStories of crime, of love, of enchantment are common\\nand the heroes are knights, or squires, or minstrels, or\\n(better still) outlaws w^ho live under the grene-wode\\ntre. All, however, are seen from the people s point of\\nview. If a ballad tells the tragedy of a noble lady s\\nlife, it puts the essential pathos poignantly, for there is\\nno monopoly in suffering but it generally has some\\nminor touches which show that the unessentials of\\naristocratic life are viewed from far away. The fol-\\n1 groves. beautiful.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0171.jp2"}, "172": {"fulltext": "154 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nlowing stanzas, for example, form the conclusion of the\\nBallad of Sir Patrick Spens. Sir Patrick had been sent\\nto sea on a mad voyage in midwinter, and he and all\\nthe Scots nobles with him were lost. It will be seen\\nthat the grief of the mourners is genuinely felt, but that\\nthe world they live in is to the unknown poet like a\\nfar-away world of popular romance.\\nO lang, lang may their ladies sit,\\nWi thair fans into their hand,\\nOr eir they se Sir Patrick Spens\\nCum sailing to the land.\\nO lang, lang may the ladies stand,\\nWi thair gold kems in their hair.\\nWaiting for thair ain deir lords,\\nFor they 11 se thame na mair.\\nHaf owre, haf owre to Aberdour,\\nIt s fiftie fadom deip.\\nAnd thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spens,\\nWi the Scots lords at his feit.\\nRobin Hood, the mythical hero of popular legend, is the\\ncentral figure in some of the best ballads, and about\\nhim are clustered a number of satellites, such as Little\\nJohn, Maid Marian, Will Scarlett, and Friar Tuck, just\\nas Launcelot, Gawayne, and Guinevere grouped them-\\nselves about the hero of the great cycle of court\\nromance. Indeed, some of the ballads are mere popu-\\nlarized abridgments of the old romances but these are\\ngenerally far inferior to those of wholly popular origin.\\nThe latter, too, are noteworthy in literary history as", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0172.jp2"}, "173": {"fulltext": "THE END OF THE MIDDLE AGES 1 55\\nalmost the only part of our mediaeval literature that\\nowed nothing to French influence.\\nThe following ballad, known as Edivard^ is one of\\nthe best that are short enough to be given here com-\\nplete. The text is of uncertain age, but the substance\\nmust be very old, for it is found among the popular\\nballads of Sweden and Denmark.\\nQuhy dois 30ur brand sae drop wi bluid,\\nEdward, Edward\\nQuhy dois 30ur brand sae drop wi bluid,\\nAnd quhy sae sad gang ^ee, O\\nO I hae killed my hauke sae guid,\\nMither, mither\\nO I hae killed my hauke sae guid,\\nAnd I had nae mair bot hee, O\\n3our haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,\\nEdward, Edward\\n3our haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,\\nMy deir son I tell thee, O\\nO I hae killed my reid-roan steid,\\nMither, mither\\nO I hae killed my reid-roan steid,\\nThat erst was sae fair and free, O\\n3our steid was auld, and 36 hae gat mair,\\nEdward, Edward\\n3our steid w^as auld, and 36 hae gat mair.\\nSum other dule 36 drie,^ O\\nO I hae killed my fadir deir,\\nMither, mither\\nO I hae killed my fadir deir,\\nAlas, and wae is mee, O\\n1 sorrow. suffer.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0173.jp2"}, "174": {"fulltext": "156 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nAnd quhatten penance wul i^e drie for that,\\nEdward, Edward\\nAnd quhatten penance wul ^e drie for that\\nMy deir son, now tell me, O.\\nHe set my feit in 3onder boat,\\nMither, mither\\nlie set my feit in 3onder boat.\\nAnd He fare ovir the sea, O.\\nAnd quhat wul ^e doe wi 30ur towirs and 30ur ha^\\nEdward, Edward\\nAnd quhat wul 3e doe wi 30ur towirs and 30ur ha\\nThat were sae fair to see, O\\nHe let thame stand til they doun fa\\nMither, mither\\nHe let thame stand til they doun fa\\nFor here nevir mair maun I bee, O.\\nAnd quhat wul 3e leive to 30ur bairns and 30ur wife,\\nEdward, Edward\\nAnd quhat wul 3e leive to 30ur bairns and 30ur wife,\\nQuhan 3e gang ovir the sea, O\\nThe warldis room, let them beg throw life,\\nMither, mither:\\nThe warldis room, let them beg throw life,\\nFor thame nevir mair wul I see, O.\\nAnd quhat wul 3e leive to 30ur ain mither deir,\\nEdward, Edward\\nAnd quhat wul 3e leive to 30ur ain mither deir\\nMy deir son, now tell me, O.\\nThe curse of hell frae me sail 3e beir,\\nMither, mither\\nThe curse of hell frae me sail 3e beir,\\nSic counsels 3e gave to me, O.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0174.jp2"}, "175": {"fulltext": "THE END OF THE MIDDLE AGES 1 57\\nIt is remarkable that at the times when these ballads\\nflourished they were not regarded as literature at all.\\nThey were sung or recited by harpists or fiddlers in\\nvillage market-places, and were taught by grandmothers\\nto their children s children as snatches of nursery rime\\nare taught nowadays but until comparatively modern\\ntimes the literary classes seem to have paid them little\\nattention. After the middle of the eighteenth century\\nthe educated world discovered them, and their sim-\\nplicity, their tragic intensity, their extraordinary beauty,\\nwere among the chief influences in the great revolution\\nin literary taste that then took place. Little space is\\naccorded to them here, because during their centuries\\nof subterranean existence they had no influence upon\\nthe general history of literature but they are of the\\ngreatest importance to the student of eighteenth and\\nnineteenth-century poetry, and are an endless delight\\nto the general reader.\\n45. Dramatic Entertainments. We have seen that the\\nWife of Bath was fond of going to ^^pleyes of myra-\\ncles. Miracle Plays had been a common form of pop-\\nular entertainment long before her time, and they\\ncontinued in favor till they were superseded by the\\ndrama of Shakespeare s age. They had been originally\\nmere dramatizations of Biblical stories, presented in\\nchurch by the clergy for the instruction and edification\\nof the unlettered laity but in the thirteenth century\\nthe town guilds (organizations somewhat like the mod-\\nern trades unions) took them up and began giving them\\nregularly in public places, just as a modern college fra-\\nternity or regiment of militia may give an operetta or a", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0175.jp2"}, "176": {"fulltext": "158 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nplay. There were no theatres, but none were needed\\nfor such simple representations as were then found sat-\\nisfactory. The guilds performed on pageants, large\\nmovable stages not unlike our circus vans or mail\\nwagons, with room inside to dress, and room on top for\\nacting. At a time previously announced, one of these\\npageants, drawn (let us suppose) by some members of\\nthe guild of Tanners, would appear in the market-place\\nof the town, or at some suitable street-corner, and stop\\nthere. When all was ready, those of the guild who\\nwere chosen to do the acting would appear on the top\\nand perform a little play about the Creation and when\\nit was ended, the pageant would be drawn away, to give\\nits play again in some other part of the town. Mean-\\nwhile, another pageant, provided by the guild of Tallow-\\nchandlers, arrives and portrays the temptation and fall\\nof man. After this comes a long series of plays, run-\\nning perhaps through the whole period of Old Testa-\\nment history and the audience spend the whole of a\\nholiday watching them.\\nAnother kind of dramatic entertainment common in\\nthe later middle ages was the Morality Play. This was\\na dramatized moral allegory. The play of Everyman,\\nfor example, tells how God sends Death to Everyman to\\nsummon him to judgment. Everyman is reluctant, but\\nfinds that he cannot disobey the summons. He goes\\nto a friend named Fellowship and tells him that he is in\\ntrouble, and Fellowship makes extravagant protestations\\nof eagerness to do anything for him but when he\\nlearns that Everyman wants him to go on a long jour-\\nney at the bidding of Death, he backs out and leaves", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0176.jp2"}, "177": {"fulltext": "THE END OF THE MIDDLE AGES 159\\nEveryman alone in his despair. The hero of the play\\nthen consults Good Deeds, but she says he has neglected\\nher so long that she can do nothing for him. In like,\\nmanner every resource fails him, until he makes the\\nacquaintance of Confession and does penance for his\\nsins. After that Good Deeds promises to stay by him\\nto the end, and he dies in peace.\\nThe fifteenth century saw both Miracle and Morality\\nPlays at the height of their popularity, but the former\\nand probably also the latter had existed long before.\\nIt is sometimes supposed that the Moralities grew out\\nof the Miracle Plays, but it is more likely that they\\ngrew up separately. Both were manifestations of a\\ndramatic instinct which seems always to have existed in\\nthe English race. The fabliaux and the ballads and\\nthe romances could not be well sung or recited without\\na good deal of action and dramatic expression, and the\\ntwo species of plays were simply two set forms in which\\nthe same dramatic instinct manifested itself.\\nThe Moralities interest us chiefly as being the germ\\nfrom which, in the sixteenth century, the regular drama\\ndeveloped but they are interesting also as presenting\\nmediaeval allegory in one of its latest stages. We have\\nseen how allegory sprang from the mystical habit of see-\\ning deep meanings in natural phenomena. From this\\ngrew the literary fashion of personifying abstractions,\\nas was done in Piers Plowman, for example, and in\\nthe chivalrous court allegory. In the later middle ages,\\nhowever, allegory seems to have lost its first mysterious\\ncharm, and to have been used simply because it was the\\nfashion. In Pie^^s Plowman it is evident that the poet", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0177.jp2"}, "178": {"fulltext": "l6o EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nwas only half at ease that he was always tempted to\\nindividualize his abstract characters. He gives, for\\nexample, an elaborate account of the Seven Deadly\\nSins but Gluttony is not a mere personification he\\nis a very human glutton, evidently drawn from Lang-\\nland s actual observation among the lower classes.\\nCovetousness has a wife named Rose, who keeps\\na retail shop at Westminster, goes to the fair at Win-\\nchester, cheats with false cloth measures, etc. and\\nso through the list. The characters are Sins in name\\nonly in fact, they are individual sinners. In the\\nMoralities we find the same tendency toward concrete-\\nness. The earlier writers were content with such\\nheroes as Everyman or Humanity, while the minor\\ncharacters were mere personifications of vices and vir-\\ntues, or other abstract ideas and the plots were strict\\nallegories representing the conflict between virtue and\\ntemptation. Later plays, however, are limited less and\\nless by the exact significance of the names of the char-\\nacters, the dramatis personae become more and more\\nlike individuals, and the plots are constructed as much\\nfor entertainment as for moral instruction. The devil\\nfigured conspicuously, and while in the earliest plays he\\nmust have impressed the spectators with horror and\\nfear, in later ones he was an extravagant burlesque,\\nequipped with a long tail and intended almost solely to\\nraise a laugh. Another stock character, known specif-\\nically as ^The Vice, frequently consorted with him,\\nand in the later plays is made equally ludicrous. Comic\\nepisodes abound, in which the characters (especially the\\nvices) play absurd jokes upon one another, some of them", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0178.jp2"}, "179": {"fulltext": "THE END OF THE MIDDLE AGES l6l\\nbeing much more like circus clowns than solemn allegor-\\nical abstractions. Indeed, the clown or fool of\\nthe later drama is a lineal descendant of the Vice of the\\nMorality. This tendency to concreteness was a natural\\nresult of the dramatic form, for the stage is a place for\\nindividuals rather than for allegory but it was also a\\nsymptom of the passing of mediaeval mysticism, and\\npresents a close parallel to the satirical touch given to\\nchivalrous allegory in such poems as The Court of Love.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0179.jp2"}, "180": {"fulltext": "CHAPTER IX\\nTHE RENAISSANCE\\n46. Caxton. The process of printing with movable\\ntypes was invented on the continent just before the\\nmiddle of the fifteenth century, and within the next two\\ndecades several printing offices were established there.\\nAt this time William Caxton, an English merchant, was\\nengaged in business at Bruges. He was a lover of\\nliterature, and was quick to see both the literary and\\nthe commercial opportunities in the new art. Coming\\nhome to England in 1476, he brought with him printing\\npresses and fonts of type, and opened the first English\\nprinting house in the neighborhood of Westminster\\nAbbey. In 1477 he published the first book printed on\\nEnglish soil, entitled Dictes and Sayings of the Philos-\\nophers. Other books followed in rapid succession, some\\nnew, others reissues of books long known in manuscript.\\nCaxton s choice of books for printing was largely guided\\nby his business instinct, but his literary tastes prompted\\nhim to print all the best books available in the language,\\nand he translated many French books for the press with\\nhis own hand. Among the standard works that he printed\\nwere the Canterbury Tales, the Confessio Aniantis, Rey-\\nnard the Fox, and translations of some of Cicero s moral\\nessays. The most celebrated of the new books from\\nhis press was Malory s Morte Darthitr.\\n162", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0180.jp2"}, "181": {"fulltext": "THE RENAISSANCE 163\\nThe invention of printing made the Renaissance\\npossible. The immediate result was a great reduction\\nin the price of books, and a correspondingly great\\nincrease in the supply. A few figures will show the\\nimportance of the change. The following items are\\nfrom the bill of a professional copyist, for work done\\nin 1468 at his employer s order:\\nItm for De Regimine Principum, which conteyneth\\nxlv leves, after a peny a leaf, which is right s. d.\\nwele worth, iii ix\\nItm for Rubrissheyng of all the booke, iii iv\\nThe price, it seems, was a penny a leaf for the mere\\ncopying of an ordinary page of verse, and nearly as\\nmuch more for simple decoration of margins, initial\\nletters, etc., in red ink. For copying solid prose a\\ndouble price was charged, so that a volume of moderate\\nsize, with the ordinary embellishments, would cost from\\nthreepence to f ourpence a leaf. The price seems small\\nenough, but all prices were low in the fifteenth century.\\nAn ox could be bought for twenty shillings, a sheep for\\ntwo, and a pound of butter for a penny and the wages\\nof a skilled workman were only about sixpence a day.\\nIn general, money went ten or twelve times as far as it\\nwill go now, but it was more than ten or twelve times\\nas hard to get. Fourpence a leaf then was, therefore,\\nabout equivalent to a dollar a leaf now. A simple cal-\\nculation will show that to the average man of that time\\na book was as expensive as a horse is to-day, and a little\\nlibrary of three or four shelves was an almost impossible\\nluxury.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0181.jp2"}, "182": {"fulltext": "l64 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nWe do not know the prices at which Caxton sold his\\nworks, but we have a record of two appraisals, shortly\\nafter his death, of one of his largest and most elegant\\nfolios the Golden Legend. This was a book of 449\\nleaves, and the higher of the two values known to have\\nbeen put upon it was 1 3^*. d^d. Comparing this with the\\nfigures given above, even without allowing for the differ-\\nence in size between Caxton s folio and the paper used\\nby the earlier copyist, we get the inference that the\\nimmediate effect of the new art was to reduce the cost\\nof books to about one-tenth what it had been. We have\\nnot sufficient data for exact comparisons, but it is certain\\nthat the reduction was very great, and these figures are\\nsufficiently accurate for illustration.\\n47. Skelton. The end of the fifteenth and the\\nbeginning of the sixteenth century were a period of\\ntransition between the Middle Ages and the Renais-\\nsance. The mediaeval ideals had been shattered, but\\nnothing was yet ready to take their place. The church\\nhad lost hold, but the Reformation had not yet begun.\\nThe monasteries in general had ceased to be seats of\\nlearning and centers of spiritual influence. The last\\nvestige of chivalry had been effaced by the Wars of the\\nRoses, which had devastated England through a great\\npart of the fifteenth century for whole families of\\nnoble blood had been annihilated, and gunpowder and\\nball had conclusively proved their superiority to knightly\\naccoutrements. Peace had come in 1485, with the ac-\\ncession of Henry VII, but it had brought no revival\\nof ancient chivalrous glory, no great awakening in the\\nchurch, no renaissance in literature. Henry s reign", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0182.jp2"}, "183": {"fulltext": "THE RENAISSANCE 165\\nwas a period of materialistic commercialism, in which\\n(to characterize it sweepingly) England was destitute\\nof spiritual life, ideals, or enthusiasm. But the forces\\nwere already at work which were destined to bring in\\nthe Renaissance.\\nThe poet John Skelton was typical of this period.\\nHe might well have described himself in Matthew\\nArnold s phrase as\\nWandering between two worlds, one dead,\\nThe other powerless to be born,\\nfor he saw that the mediaeval world was dead, and the\\nbeginnings of modern civilization seemed to him impo-\\ntent and aimless. He had had a thorough university\\neducation, and had taken priest s orders just before the\\nturn of the century, not because he felt any spirit-\\nual call to holy office, but because that was the natural\\nthing for a young man of letters to do. The clergy\\nhad no monopoly of learning, but they had, among poor\\nmen, a monopoly of leisure. Ecclesiastical laws forbade\\npriests to marry, but Skelton was both husband and\\nfather, for he looked upon ecclesiastical authorities with\\ndefiance and contempt. Much of his best verse was\\nfierce satire upon the abuses in the church of which\\nhe was himself a minister. Here is a specimen from\\nColyn Cloute, written in the peculiar jerky metre still\\ncalled Skeltonic.\\nAnd if ye stande in doute\\nWho brought this ryme about^,\\nMy name is Colyn Cloute.\\nI purpose to shake oute", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0183.jp2"}, "184": {"fulltext": "1 66 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nAll my connyng bagge,\\nLyke a clerkely hagge\\nFor though my ryme be ragged,\\nTattered and lagged,\\nRudely rayne beaten,\\nRusty and moughte eaten,\\nIf ye take well therwith.\\nIt hath in it some pyth.\\nFor, as farre as I can se,\\nIt is wronge with eche degre\\nFor the temporalte\\nAccuseth the spiritualte\\nThe spirituall agayne\\nDothe grudge and complayne\\nVpon the temporall men\\nThus eche of other blother\\nThe tone agayng the tother\\nAlas, they make me shoder!\\nFor in hoder moder^\\nThe Churche is put in faute;\\nThe prelates ben so haut,^\\nThey say, and loke so hy.\\nAs though they wolde fly\\nAboute the sterry skye.\\nLaye men say indede\\nHow they take no hede\\nTheyr sely shepe to fede.\\nBut plucke away and pull\\nThe fleces of theyr wull,\\nVnethes^ they leue a locke\\nOf wull amonges theyr ftocke\\nAnd as for theyr connynge,^\\n1 moth. 2 laity. clergy. gabble. the tone that one.\\nhugger-mugger, confusion. haughty. scarcely. learning,\\nprofessional ability.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0184.jp2"}, "185": {"fulltext": "THE RENAISSANCE 167\\nA glommynge and a mummynge,\\nAnd make therof a iape\\nThey gaspe and they gape\\nAll to have promocyon,\\nThere is theyr hole deuocyon,\\nWith money, if it wyll hap,\\nTo catche the forked cap\\nForsothe they are to lewd\\nTo say so, all beshrewd\\nThe last two lines are an ironical imprecation upon the\\nignorant laymen who utter these irreverent slanders\\nagainst the clergy.\\nSkelton wrote many kinds of poetry, from love-songs\\n(some of which have a genuine lyrical beauty) to moral-\\nity plays (one of which is perhaps the best extant)\\nand he was interested in observing and criticising all\\ndepartments of contemporary life. He dissects the\\ncourtier, the priest, and the tavern-keeper, with equal\\nkeenness. The mediaeval thinker, as we have seen,\\nwas absorbed in the mysteries of life and death, but\\nSkelton was concerned with the phenomena of life.\\nHis work is often absolutely unquotable because of its\\ncoarseness, such coarseness as is heard among the\\nvagrant boys of city streets but it has the merit of\\nboldness and vigor, and is not immoral. In The Ttm-\\nnyng of Elynotir Rtitmnyng he gives one of the most\\nvivid pictures in the English language of low debauch-\\nery, describing all the forlorn women who frequent\\nElynour s ale-house on brewing days. The following\\nis a mild specimen of his descriptive power\\n1\\njest. 2 the bishop s mitre.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0185.jp2"}, "186": {"fulltext": "1 68 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nBut to make vp my tale,\\nShe breweth noppy ale\\nAnd maketh therof port sale\\nTo trauellars, to tynkers,\\nTo sweters, to swynkers,\\nAnd all good ale drynkers,\\nThat wyll nothynge spare,\\nBut drynke tyll they stare\\nAnd brynge themselfe bare,\\nWith, Now away the mare.\\nAnd let us sley care.\\nAs wise as an hare\\n(The last three lines seem to represent the topers as\\nsinging some drinking-song.)\\nCome who so will\\nTo Elynour on the hyll,\\nWyth, Fyll the cup, fyll.\\nAnd syt there by styll,\\nErly and late\\nThyther cometh Kate,\\nCysly, and Sare,\\nWith theyr legges bare,\\nAnd also theyr fete\\nHardeley full unswete\\nWith theyr heles dagged,^\\nTheyr kyrtelles all to-iagged,\\nTheyr smockes all to-ragged,\\nWyth tytters and tatters,\\nBrynge dysshes and platters,\\nWyth all theyr myght runnynge\\nTo Elynour Rummynge,\\nTo haue of her tunnynge\\nShe leneth them on the same,\\n1 wholesale. assuredly. be-mired. furnisheth. some of.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0186.jp2"}, "187": {"fulltext": "THE RENAISSANCE 169\\nAnd thus begynneth the game.\\nSome wenches come vnlased,\\nSome huswyues come vnbrased,\\nA sorte of foule drabbes\\nAll scuruy with scabbes\\nSome be flybytten,\\nSome skewed as a kytten\\nSome wyth a sho clout\\nBynde theyr heddes about\\nSome haue no herelace,^\\nTheyr lockes about theyr face,\\nTheyr tresses vntrust,^\\nAll full of vnlust\\nSome loke strawry,^\\nSome cawry mawry\\nFull vntydy tegges\\nLyke rotten egges.\\nSuche a lewde sorte\\nTo Elynour resorte\\nFrom tyde to tyde\\nAbyde, abyde,\\nAnd to you shall be tolde\\nHowe hyr ale is solde.\\nThere is much buffoonery in Skelton, but no humor of\\nthe kindlier sort. There are passages that may be called\\nfun, but they are the fun of a man who sees little in the\\nworld to love, and little hope for the future they are\\nthe saeva indignatio of the pessimist who laughs\\nfiercely in despair.\\n48. Mediaeval Universities. Until the period which we\\nare now considering, the course of study at the great\\n1 walking obliquely 2 hair-band. untnissed. unloveliness.\\nseedy threadbare. slatterns.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0187.jp2"}, "188": {"fulltext": "I/O EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nuniversities had for several centuries undergone no very\\nradical change. The curriculum began with Grammar,\\nRhetoric, and Logic (collectively designated as the\\ntrivmni)^ and continued, for advanced students, with\\nArithmetic, Geometry, Music, and Astronomy (the qiiad-\\nrivitim). The Grammar and Rhetoric of the trivium\\nmeant chiefly the parsing of Latin sentences, the com-\\nposition of Latin verses, and the study of treatises by\\npost-classical Latin grammarians and rhetoricians. Logic\\nwas in mediaeval estimation the most important of the\\nthree subjects, for logic was the soul of philosophy, and\\nphilosophy was the end of all learning. Logical methods\\nwere used in all the more advanced studies. The student,\\nfor example, who had finished both trivium and qtiadri-\\nviumy and remained at the university for the study of\\ntheology, would pursue that study in some such manner\\nas the following he would attend lectures at which\\nperhaps the Su^nma Theologiae of Thomas Aquinas\\nwould be read aloud (the students, of course, being\\nunable to possess copies). Before reading, the lecturer\\nstated the main divisions of the work, then the subdivi-\\nsions of the first part, and the further subdivisions of the\\nfirst subdivision, until he had reached the first sentence\\nthen, if that sentence were not susceptible of still further\\nsubdivision, he would read it, paraphrase it, explain why\\nit stood first, and what lessons were deducible from it.\\nThen he would pass to the next, explaining why it stood\\nsecond rather than first or third, and so on through the\\nlesson.\\nThis was the analytical method. The dialectical\\nmethod of instruction was common also. A passage of", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0188.jp2"}, "189": {"fulltext": "THE RENAISSANCE 171\\ndoubtful interpretation was read, and one interpretation\\nwas stated then the students were set to work assaiUng\\nor defending it. Finally the Master stated his own\\ninterpretation, and justified it.\\nIt is not to be supposed that this sort of instruction\\nwas fruitless. It gave the young clerk an excellent\\ntraining for a certain kind of intellectual cleverness. It\\ndid not, however, conduce to the general advancement of\\nlearning. The student of theology was encouraged to\\nconsider, not what was the relation of man to God, but\\nwhat Thomas Aquinas or some other divine had said\\nabout it, and what he meant. The dialectical method\\nmade men very clever at disputing such questions as\\nwhether two angels could occupy the same place at the\\nsame time, or whether God could have assumed any\\nother than the human form, and if so, whether, in case\\nhe had assumed the form of an animal or a vegetable, he\\ncould have had the power of speech but such disputa-\\ntions did nothing for the cause of religion or science, and\\nvery little for the cause of liberal culture.\\nThe life of the students was very hard. Most of\\nthem were poor. As late as 1550 we read that the\\nstudents at St. John s College, Cambridge, had two\\nmeals a day on one pennyworth of meat, studied till\\nnine or ten o clock, and then ran or walked briskly for\\nhalf an hour to warm their feet before going to bed.\\nDiseases were common. In the reign of Henry VII\\nthe plague visited Oxford six times, and various other\\nkinds of fever were the natural result of unsanitary\\nconditions. Erasmus left the University of Paris in dis-\\ngust, and said afterwards that he had brought away", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0189.jp2"}, "190": {"fulltext": "1/2 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nlittle learning, but a large quantity of lice and the\\nEnglish universities were probably not much more\\ncleanly. All these things were due partly to igno-\\nrance, but partly also to the characteristic mediaeval idea\\nthat the mind is improved by the sufferings of the flesh.\\n49. The Revival of Learning. The Renaissance began\\nin Italy in the latter part of the fifteenth century, and\\nspread gradually to northern Europe. When we say\\nthis, we mean by the word Renaissance the transition\\nbetween the mediaeval world and the modern. We have\\nseen that Chaucer was in most essentials a modern poet\\nand before his time Petrarch and Boccaccio had intro-\\nduced much of the modern spirit into Italian letters\\nbut the general awakening came a century later. It\\nwas a universal movement, affecting literature, reli-\\ngion, art, manners, science, in short, all departments\\nof human activity. We cannot account for it, except in\\npart, just as we cannot altogether account for the greater\\nrenascence of the nineteenth century we can only chron-\\nicle the events and connect them with one another.\\nPerhaps the most important feature of the Renais-\\nsance was the revival of interest in classical literature.\\nIt is usual to date this from the year 1453, for in that\\nyear Constantinople was taken by the Turks, and many\\nGreek scholars who had lived there were driven to seek\\nother homes. They carried their learning with them,\\nand spread it over western Europe but it would be\\nsafer to regard this event as merely contributing to the\\nmovement, certainly not as its sole and sufficient ex-\\nplanation. The importance of the revelation of ancient\\nliterature to the mediaeval world can hardly be over-", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0190.jp2"}, "191": {"fulltext": "THE RENAISSANCE 173\\nestimated. We are likely to underestimate it now, for,\\nin the four centuries that have elapsed since the Renais-\\nsance, most of the virtue that was in Greek thought has\\nbeen directly or indirectly absorbed into our own litera-\\nture. If all the classical literature should somehow be\\ntaken away from us, the loss would be incomparably less\\nthan was the gain of finding it, to the mediaeval world.\\nAncient Greece was to the Europe of the fifteenth\\ncentury what modern Europe is to Japan. A race\\nthat had for many generations known nothing broader\\nthan the theology of the schools, the ascetic morality\\nof the cloister, and science like that of Maundevile\\nand the Bestiary, was suddenly brought face to face\\nwith the highest civilization that the world had yet\\nknown, and the result was an incalculable widening of\\ntheir mental, moral, and spiritual horizon. The new\\nspirit thus introduced is sometimes called humanism,\\nand we speak of the men who were foremost in intro-\\nducing it as the humanists.\\n50. The Humanists. The most eminent of the human-\\nists was Desiderius Erasmus. He was born at Rotter-\\ndam about 1466, and was bred in Holland; yet in\\nwriting to a compatriot he once apologized for writing\\nin Latin, on the ground that he was not sufficiently\\nacquainted with Dutch. This fact illustrates his cosmo-\\npolitan character. He was a citizen of Europe, and\\nLatin, which was the language of learning at Oxford as\\nwell as at Paris or Rome, was his only natural medium.\\nHe was persuaded, when hardly past boyhood, to\\nbecome a monk but he bitterly regretted the step,\\nand after a few years obtained permission to leave his", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0191.jp2"}, "192": {"fulltext": "1/4 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nmonastery. For several years he wandered from place\\nto place in northern Europe, eagerly seeking to perfect\\nhis education, and especially seeking some one who could\\nteach him Greek for he heard of the new learning, and\\nhe knew that Greek was the key to it. At length,\\nprobably in 1498, he came to Oxford. There he found\\na little circle of learned and large-minded men, some of\\nwhom had been in Italy and learned Greek, while all\\nwere enthusiastic for the new culture. He was charmed\\nwith them, and they with him. His restless nature\\nprevented him from settling permanently in England,\\nalthough he was repeatedly urged to do so, and the\\ngreater part of his life was passed on the continent\\nbut he made other visits to England in later years, and\\nthe English Renaissance perhaps owed as much to him\\nas to any individual Englishman.\\nThe best known of the works of Erasmus, The Praise\\nof Folly, was written in England. In its original form\\nit was, of course, in Latin, and it is not strictly a part\\nof English literature at all but it was often republished\\nin English, and it reveals the spirit of the new learning\\nmore clearly than any other single work of the time. It\\nwas written hurriedly, more in fun than in earnest, and\\nis a satire upon the various kinds of folly which were\\nleft over from the mediaeval world but though it is for\\nthe most part humorous, and negative rather than posi-\\ntive in its criticism, it contains many serious passages of\\nreal eloquence, and affords hints of the higher ideals of\\nthe reformers, as well as of the older ideals which it was\\ntheir purpose to shatter. The following passages are\\nfrom one of the standard translations", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0192.jp2"}, "193": {"fulltext": "THE RENAISSANCE 1/5\\nThe divines present themselves next. They are\\nexquisitely dexterous in unfolding the most intricate\\nmysteries they will tell you to a tittle all the successive\\nproceedings of omnipotence in the creation of the uni-\\nverse they will explain the precise manner of original sin\\nbeing derived from our first parents they will satisfy you\\nin what manner, by what degrees, and in how long a time,\\nour Saviour was conceived in the Virgin s womb, and\\ndemonstrate in the consecrated wafer how accidents may\\nsubsist without a subject. And these subtilties are\\nalchymized to a more refined sublimate by the abstracting\\nbrains of their school-men the realists, the nominalists,\\nthe thomists, the albertists, the occamists, the scotists\\nthese are not all, but the rehearsal of a few only, as a\\nspecimen of their divided sects in each of which there is\\nso much of deep learning, so much of unfathomable diffi-\\nculty, that I believe the apostles themselves would stand\\nin need of a new illuminating spirit, if they were to engage\\nin any controversy with these new divines.\\nThe next to these are another sort of brain-sick fools,\\nwho style themselves monks and of religious orders,\\nthough they assume both titles very unjustly. Most\\nof them place their greatest stress for salvation on a strict\\nconformity to their foppish ceremonies, and a belief of\\ntheir legendary traditions wherein they fancy to have\\nacquitted themselves with so much of supererogation, that\\none heaven can never be a condign reward for their meri-\\ntorious life little thinking that the Judge of all the earth\\nat the last day shall put them off, with a who hath required\\nthese things at your hands and call them to account only\\nfor the stewardship of his legacy, which was the precept\\nof love and charity. It will be pretty to hear their pleas\\nbefore the great tribunal one will brag how he mortified\\nhis carnal appetite by feeding only upon fish another will\\nurge that he spent most of his time on earth in the divine\\nexercise of singing psalms a third will tell how many days", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0193.jp2"}, "194": {"fulltext": "1/6 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nhe fasted, and what severe penance he imposed on himself\\nfor the bringing his body into subjection another shall\\nproduce in his own behalf as many ceremonies as would\\nload a fleet of merchant-men a fifth shall plead, that in\\nthreescore years he never so much as touched a piece of\\nmoney, except he fingered it through a thick pair of gloves\\na sixth, to testify his former humility, shall bring along\\nwith him his sacred hood, so old and nasty, that any sea-\\nman had rather stand bare-headed on the deck, than put it\\non to defend his head from the sharpest storms the next\\nthat comes to answer for himself shall plead, that for fifty\\nyears together he had lived like a sponge upon the same\\nplace, and was content never to change his homely habi-\\ntation another shall whisper softly, and tell the judge he\\nhas lost his voice by a continual singing of holy hymns\\nand anthems the next shall confess how he fell into a\\nlethargy by a strict, reserved, and sedentary life and the\\nlast shall intimate that he has forgot to speak, by having\\nalways kept silence, in obedience to the injunction of taking\\nheed lest he should have offended with his tongue. But\\namidst all their fine excuses our Saviour shall interrupt\\nthem with this answer, Woe unto you, scribes and phari-\\nsees, hypocrites, verily I know you not I left you but one\\nprecept, of loving one another, which I do not hear any\\none plead he has faithfully discharged I told you plainly\\nin my gospel, without any parable, that my father s king-\\ndom was prepared, not for such as should lay claim to it by\\nausterities, prayers, or fastings, but for those who should\\nrender themselves worthy of it by the exercise of faith, and\\nthe offices of charity I cannot own such as depend on\\ntheir own merits without a reliance on my mercy as many\\nof you therefore as trust to the broken reeds of your own\\ndeserts, may even go search out a new heaven, for you\\nshall never enter into that, which from the foundations\\nof the world was prepared only for such as are true of\\nheart.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0194.jp2"}, "195": {"fulltext": "THE RENAISSANCE 1/7\\nA younger member of Erasmus s English circle was\\nSir Thomas More. His best known work, the Utopia^\\nbelongs to English literature only in the same indirect\\nway as The Praise of Folly. It is a fanciful sketch of\\nan ideal commonwealth, governed according to the en-\\nlightened principles of the humanists. The book is\\nmade up partly of serious speculations, partly of grave\\nirony, and partly of purely playful fancies. When we\\nread that in Utopia there is no persecution for religious\\ndifferences, and no capital punishment for minor felonies,\\nwe feel that More is considering the reconstruction of\\nsociety in a really scientific spirit but when we are\\ntold that the Utopians use gold and precious stones\\nonly for chains and badges of servitude, it is clear that\\nhe is merely playing with his subject. As a whole, how-\\never, the Utopia is properly regarded as a typical product\\nof the humanistic movement. It has sometimes been\\ncontrasted with Piers Plowman^ and a comparison of\\nthe two books is suggestive. Each book is a protest\\nagainst the mediaeval organization of society, and each\\nauthor was eagerly desirous of social reform but all\\nthat Langland could do was to cry out against evil, and\\npassionately exhort the world to righteousness and in-\\ndustry. Really to devise a regenerated society, based\\nupon enlightened legislation and economic theory, was a\\ntask that had to wait for a mind widened by the Renais-\\nsance and the Revival of Learning.\\nThe Utopia and The Praise of Folly illustrate the\\nsecular and the religious sides, respectively, of human-\\nism but Erasmus was not exclusively a theologian, and\\nMore, when there came a breach between church and", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0195.jp2"}, "196": {"fulltext": "1/8 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nstate, laid down his life for the church. The two books\\nmust be considered together, as jointly illustrative of the\\nkind of thinking that the humanists stood for. They\\nspread the new culture by miscellaneous writings, but\\nperhaps still more by their immediate personal influence.\\nThere was a great controversy, for example, over the\\nintroduction of Greek studies in the universities. The\\ncircle of Erasmus and More advocated it, for Greek\\nwas the key to the gospels as opposed to the scholastic\\ntheology, and to the wider culture of Athens as opposed\\nto that of the middle ages. There was much bitter\\nopposition, for the humanists were regarded as heretics,\\nand Greek learning was evidently dangerous to ortho-\\ndoxy but the reformers attained some signal successes\\nin a very short time. In 15 17, for example, the new\\nCorpus Christi college was founded at Oxford, with a\\ncharter expressly providing for the study of Greek. To\\nErasmus it seemed that the campaign was won, and the\\nend of mediaevalism already in sight.\\n51. The Reformation. The humanistic movement\\nwould doubtless have won the day sooner, if it had not\\nbeen overshadowed by the Reformation. At the time\\nwhen Erasmus and his friends were working for the\\npeaceful extension of classical culture, and were hoping\\nthereby to accomplish a sweeping reform in church and\\nstate, Martin Luther was beginning on the continent\\nthat violent revolt against the Church of Rome which in\\nthe end left nearly all of northern Europe Protestant.\\nErasmus was a loyal Catholic. He argued persistently\\nagainst the abuses of Romanism, and against the narrow\\ntheology of the Romanists but what he wanted was", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0196.jp2"}, "197": {"fulltext": "THE RENAISSANCE 1/9\\nreform within the church, not secession from it. Luther,\\non the other hand, was as ilHberal in his theology as\\nthe church from which he revolted. In true mediaeval\\nfashion he based his doctrines about original sin, justi-\\nfication by faith, predestination, etc., largely upon the\\nauthority of the early fathers of the church and the\\nessence of his Protestant theology was in most respects\\ndifference of opinion with the Church of Rome, rather\\nthan difference of spirit or method. It was not his\\ntheological thinking that made him great, but his per-\\nsistent and dauntless courage and his popular strength\\ncame from his eloquent denunciation of Romanist corrup-\\ntion, as much as from his substitute for the Catholic faith.\\nErasmus at first sympathized with Luther. When\\nasked his opinion of him, he said, Luther has com-\\nmitted two crimes: he has hit the Pope on his crown,\\nand the monks in their bellies. But in general he\\nwould rather expound the gospels than quarrel about\\nthem, and he once wrote to Luther that a courteous\\nreserve would accomplish more than impetuosity. As\\nthe Reformation gathered force, he looked upon it with\\nincreasing uneasiness. It was wiping out abuses which\\nhe abhorred, but it also threatened to thwart his highest\\nintellectual hopes. It aroused angry passions, and was\\naccompanied by violent political upheavals, instead of\\nreasonable discussion. It is true that the work of the\\nOxford humanists had done much to prepare the way\\nfor the Reformation as was said at the time, Erasmus\\nlaid the ^gg, and Luther hatched it but Erasmus pro-\\ntested that his egg had a genuine chicken in it, and\\nLuther had hatched out a very different bird.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0197.jp2"}, "198": {"fulltext": "l80 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nThe English Reformation was precipitated by a per-\\nsonal quarrel of the king. Henry VIII wanted to\\ndivorce his queen, in order to marry the beautiful Anne\\nBoleyn, and the Pope would not consent to the divorce\\naccordingly Henry put an end to papal supremacy, and\\nconstituted himself the supreme head of the Church\\nof England. This act was possible only because of the\\nstrong spirit of popular opposition to the Church of\\nRome, fostered by the work of Luther as well as by\\nthat of the humanists but it was primarily a personal\\nand political revolt, and only secondarily a religious one.\\nIt led to much persecution and bloodshed. Sir Thomas\\nMore being one of the first to lose his head in the cause\\nof the old church and for a time, in the turbulence\\nthat followed, it seemed that the era of culture inaugu-\\nrated by the Oxford reformers had passed away. In\\nfact, after the Reformation was finished, the university\\nmovement went on, and in so far as it was merely a\\nmovement toward higher culture and the revival of\\nclassical literature, it eventually triumphed but the\\nmovement for more liberal theology was effectually\\nstrangled in its infancy.\\n52. Wyatt an^ Surrey. Humanism was the chief ele-\\nment in the Renaissance, but it was not all. There was\\nnothing aesthetic in the Revival of Learning. Erasmus\\nwas in Italy in the age of Michelangelo and Raphael, but\\nthe things that interested him there were the new learn-\\ning and the new theology and while he was crossing the\\nAlps on mule-back he whiled away the time by compos-\\ning some Latin verses on old age. In Utopia the popu-\\nlation was not made up of painters, poets, or musicians", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0198.jp2"}, "199": {"fulltext": "THE RENAISSANCE l8l\\nthe people were intensely practical, and got along very\\nwell without art. But as we look back upon the Renais-\\nsance, it seems to us that the new impulse given by it to\\nthe artistic expression of feeling was almost as extraor-\\ndinary as the widening of the intellectual horizon. The\\ntwo poets whose names head this section were typical\\nfigures in the artistic part of the movement.\\nUnder the influence of the Revival of Learning, it had\\nbecome common for the sons of English gentlemen to\\nseek a higher education than their ancestors had thought\\nworth while. Erasmus tells us that this began to be\\nfashionable about the beginning of the sixteenth century.\\nThenceforth the sons of noblemen were more commonly\\nseen at the universities, and as Italy was the land of cul-\\nture, it became fashionable for them to make a pilgrim-\\nage thither. But the gay youths naturally went to Italy\\nnot, as Erasmus did, because it was the land of Greek\\nlearning, but because they wanted to see the world. To\\nthem Italy was the land of literature and art and a liter-\\nary and artistic enthusiasm was what they brought with\\nthem on their return home. In Italy, at this time, there\\nwas a fashionable revival of interest in poetry, and espe-\\ncially in a certain kind of love poetry and the conse-\\nquence was that in England the composition of love\\npoetry after the Italian pattern became a favorite\\naccomplishment for fashionable men.\\nWyatt and Surrey were courtiers of Henry VIII, and\\ngentlemen in public life they were only secondarily\\npoets. But they were gentlemen of brilliant accomplish-\\nments, educated both at home and abroad, and of course\\nthey wrote verse of the fashionable kind. This kind", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0199.jp2"}, "200": {"fulltext": "1 82 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nwas, in spirit, akin to the French romances of the school\\nof Chrestien of Troyes. As it was the work of gentle-\\nmen, instead of professional poets, it naturally took the\\nform of songs, lyrics, vers de societe, instead of long\\nnarratives of chivalrous adventure but it presents an\\nartificial conception of love not unlike what we saw in the\\nromances of the twelfth century. Wyatt and Surrey, as\\nwell as divers other poets of the period, seem to have\\namused themselves and their friends by pouring out im-\\npassioned addresses to ladies whom they did not love,\\ncomplaining of rebuffs which they had not suffered, or\\npraying for favors which they did not want. Poetry of\\nthis sort was in itself unpromising. The only school\\nof poetry that can produce great results is that in which\\npoets learn to express with sincerity feelings that are\\nreally near to their hearts. The importance of the school\\nof Wyatt and Surrey, however, was great in an indirect\\nway for it directed the attention of men of brilliant\\npowers to poetry, strengthened the hold of literature\\nupon fashionable society, and started an era of ex-\\nperimental versifying which was destined in the end\\nto culminate in the work of the great Elizabethan\\npoets.\\nWe are ignorant of the dates of composition of many\\nof the poems of Wyatt and Surrey, and therefore cannot\\nwith certainty decide which was first in some of the in-\\nnovations introduced by them but between them they\\nare entitled to the credit of being the first English\\nwriters of sonnets. The sonnet form is one of many\\nhighly artificial forms of verse imported from abroad,\\nand it is the only one that has proved eminently success-", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0200.jp2"}, "201": {"fulltext": "THE RENAISSANCE 1 83\\nful in the hands of EngUsh poets. Wyatt and Surrey\\nborrowed it from the poets of Italy, and achieved a very\\nindifferent success with it but within half a century\\nmany other English poets were bettering their instruc-\\ntion. Surrey alone is entitled to a doubtful credit for\\nbeing the first English poet to write blank verse. That\\nform of composition has indeed proved the noblest of\\nwhich English verse is susceptible but Surrey s blank\\nverse was bad, and he evidently wrote it not because he\\nhad any sense of the possibilities latent in the form, but\\nbecause some Italian poets had used it. It was reserved\\nfor Marlowe, Shakespeare, and Milton to discover its\\nreal glories.\\nThe work of Wyatt and Surrey was not altogether in\\nthe artificial love poetry of the court. Wyatt passed\\nthe last years of his life in retirement, and during that\\nperiod composed some poems of a much more genuine\\nsort, containing some sincere and dignified reflections\\nupon his former life at court, and the life that he was\\nthen leading in the country. Surrey, too, left some\\npoetry of much nobler pretensions than the idle verse\\nof gallantry. But, as it happened, the genius of each\\nwas essentially lyrical, and both did their best work in\\nthe more artificial kind of verse. Many of the poems\\nof each may fairly be called detestable, but both\\npoets occasionally rose to a real poetic height. Com-\\nparative estimates of the two are often attempted, but\\nseem futile. Wyatt, perhaps, shows a truer poetic\\ngenius but then Surrey died very young. Surrey has\\nmore polish and fluency, but then he had the work of\\nhis older contemporary for a model. The following", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0201.jp2"}, "202": {"fulltext": "l84 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nspecimen of Wyatt s work has genuine merits, both\\nin feeHng and in style\\nForget not yet the tried intent\\nOf such a truth as I have meant\\nMy great travail so gladly spent,\\nForget not yet\\nForget not yet when first began\\nThe weary life ye know, since whan.\\nThe suit, the service none tell can\\nForget not yet\\nForget not yet the great assays.\\nThe cruel wrong, the scornful ways,\\nThe painful patience in delays,\\nForget not yet I\\nForget not, O, forget not this.\\nHow long ago hath been, and is\\nThe mind that never meant amiss\\nForget not yet\\nForget not then thine own approved\\nThe which so long hath thee so loved.\\nWhose steadfast faith yet never moved\\nForget not this\\n53. Conclusion. The full development of the Renais-\\nsance in England was delayed by the political excite-\\nments and uncertainties of the reigns of Henry, Edward,\\nand Mary but the seed had been sown, and the fruits\\nwere harvested in the reign of Elizabeth. The history\\nof the Elizabethan literature is without the scope of this\\nvolume, and we will only consider briefly some of the\\nways in which the Renaissance led up to it.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0202.jp2"}, "203": {"fulltext": "THE RENAISSANCE 1 85\\nThe most brilliant achievement of the Elizabethan age\\nwas the development of the drama. We have already\\nseen its crude beginnings in the Miracle and Morality\\nPlays. If there had been no Revival of Learning, we\\ncan imagine that some sort of drama might have been\\nevolved. Native English instincts might well have\\ncompleted the substitution of individuals for abstractions\\nin the Moralities but at best we should have had only\\na wild, unregulated melodrama, without unity or form.\\nAs it was, the scholarly men at the schools and univer-\\nsities became interested in the classical drama. In the\\nthird quarter of the sixteenth century they were acting\\nLatin plays before select audiences, and writing English\\nplays in imitation of them. These plays were hardly fit\\nfor acting. Gorboduc, for example, which is commonly\\ndistinguished as the first English tragedy, presents not\\nactions but long speeches about actions moral essays\\nin the form of dialogue, with deeds for their texts. Such\\nplays as this were purely academic products, and could\\nnever have led to a national drama. They were useful,\\nhowever, in modifying the existing popular drama. They\\nsuggested to such men as Christopher Marlowe the idea\\nthat the drama was a suitable medium of expression for\\na great poet. They showed how it might be used to\\nportray the highest passions in an elevated style and an\\nartistic form. At the same time, writers of Moralities\\nhad already learned that the stage is the place for doing\\nthings, not merely saying them and they had discov-\\nered the great advantage of mixing comic elements with\\ntragic. The Elizabethan drama descended from the old\\nMorality Plays, under the modifying influence of the", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0203.jp2"}, "204": {"fulltext": "1 86 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nclassical drama. It was a combination of the elements\\ndemanded by scholarly critics and the elements de-\\nmanded by popular audiences.\\nThe aesthetic movement which was begun in the time\\nof Wyatt and Surrey continued throughout the Eliza-\\nbethan period. It was the fashion to be able to write\\npoetry, and especially love lyrics and among the many\\nwho were moved to write, a surprising number exhibited\\nreal genius. Many anthologies of verse were published,\\nknown now, collectively, as the Elizabethan Miscel-\\nlanies. The titles of some of them, such as the Para-\\ndise of Dainty Devices^ or the Gorgeous Gallery of\\nGallant Inventions^ illustrate a certain artificial quality\\nfrom which little of the Eliztabethan lyrical poetry is\\nabsolutely free. The following specimen, a song of\\nLyly s, has this quality, but it also has the daintiness\\nand delicacy that made so many of the love-songs of\\nthe period imperishable.\\nCupid and my Campaspe play d\\nAt cards for kisses Cupid paid\\nHe stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,\\nHis mother s doves, and team of sparrows\\nLoses them too then down he throws\\nThe coral of his lip, the rose\\nGrowing on s cheek (but none knows how)\\nWith these, the crystal of his brow,\\nAnd then the dimple on his chin\\nAll these did my Campaspe win\\nAt last he set her both his eyes\\nShe won, and Cupid blind did rise.\\nO Love has she done this to thee\\nWhat shall, alas become of me", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0204.jp2"}, "205": {"fulltext": "THE RENAISSANCE 1 8/\\nIn prose as well as in poetry the Elizabethans devel-\\noped a style of their own, often disfigured by artificial\\nattempts at elegance, but nevertheless very helpful to\\nliterary progress. Lyly was one of the worst offenders\\nagainst simplicity, and his romance, Euphties, has given\\nus the word euphuism for the peculiar affectations of\\nits style. Lyly delighted in sentences like this O\\ndivine nature, O heavenly nobilitie, what thing can\\nthere more be required in a Prince than in greatest\\npower to shew greatest patience, in chiefest glorye to\\nbring forth chiefest grace, in abundance of all earthly\\npomp to manifest abundance of all heavenly piety O\\nfortunate England that hath such a Queen, ungrateful,\\nif thou pray not for her, wicked, if thou do not love her,\\nmiserable, if thou lose her. This style was, of course,\\nvicious but it was the result of conscious study of style,\\nand it was only after many writers had studied and\\nexperimented with prose, that a good English style\\ncould at last become common.\\nA noteworthy example of the influence of humanism\\nupon the inner life and spirit of England is seen in\\nSpenser s Faerie Queene, Spenser, indeed, may be\\nchosen to represent almost any of the great move-\\nments in contemporary thought but we will close\\nwith a suggestion as to the great significance of his\\nattitude towards moral problems. His great poem is\\ncomposed throughout in a moral spirit but it is the\\nmoral spirit of the classical heathen philosophers, not\\nthat of the middle ages. To Spenser, virtue is not\\nprimarily that quality which will bring us to heaven,\\nbut that which is intrinsically beautiful. Sin is not (as", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0205.jp2"}, "206": {"fulltext": "1 88 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nin the mediaeval homilies or Miracle Plays) the thing that\\nleads to hell-mouth, but the thing that is intrinsically\\ndetestable. This idea of morality is made the basis of a\\nlong romantic allegory, in which the virtues are person-\\nified as gallant knights and beautiful ladies, while the\\nvices are witches, ogres, and dragons. This is perhaps\\nthe crowning example in Elizabethan literature of the\\ntriumph of classical over mediaeval feeling and it shows\\nhow the aesthetic Renaissance and the Revival of Learn-\\ning were at last blended. It also illustrates the close\\nrelation of literature to life. The spirit of Spenser s\\npoem is different from that of the Pricke of Conscience^\\nbecause the Renaissance had wrought a complete change\\nin men s everyday modes of thought.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0206.jp2"}, "207": {"fulltext": "INDEX\\n(The figures refer to pages)\\nAccent in Teutonic languages, 17.\\niElfred, as king, 7-9; as man of\\nletters, 49, 50.\\nAlexander in romance, 58.\\nAlexis, St., 54-57.\\nAllegory, 80, 81, 160; Pearly 106,\\n107; Piers Plowman^ 1 08-1 14,\\n160; Love Allegory, 118, 122-\\n125, 143-147; Moralities, 158-\\ni6t Spenser, 188.\\nAlliteration, in Old English verse,\\n37; Layamon, 66; King Horn^\\n70 Cleanness, etc., 104.\\nAlliterative Poems, 103-108.\\nAlphabet, Old English, 23, n.;\\nRunic, 44; Middle English, 56,\\nn.; 66, n.\\nAlysoun, 82.\\nAngles, arrival of, in Britain, 5, 6\\ndialect of, 21.\\nAnglo-Saxon, see Old English.\\nArthur, in history, 5 in romance,\\n58-76; referred to by Chaucer,\\nAsceticism, 53-57 influence of, in\\nromance, 65. See also Monas-\\nteries.\\nAugustine, St., 150.\\nBallads, 152-157.\\nBede, 40-42 translated by iElfred,\\n49; cited by Layamon, 67, 68.\\nBeowulf y 34-4O) 47-\\nBestiary, The, 77-81.\\nBible, Old English metrical para-\\nphrases of, 41 Middle English\\ndo., 77; Bede s St. John, 42;\\nWyclif, 103; subject of Alliter-\\native Poems, 104, 106; of Mira-\\ncle Plays, 157.\\nBlack Death, 99.\\nBoccaccio, 125, 126, 172.\\nBoethius, 49, 50.\\nBook of the Duchess, 125.\\nBritons, see Celts.\\nBrunanburh, the battle, 8 the\\npoem, 51.\\nBrut, 58.\\nBrut, The, of Wace, 65, 68; of\\nLayamon, 66-70, jy\\nCaedmon, 40-42.\\nCaesar, invasion by, 2.\\nCanterbury Tales, 128-140; Cax-\\nton s edition, 162.\\nCatholicism, in Richard RoUe, 92\\nin Piers Plowman, 114. See\\nalso Reformation.\\nCaxton, 162-164.\\nCelts, in Britain, 2-6; in Gaul, 23;\\nIrish missionaries to England,\\n41 legends of, in romance, 58-\\n^d; influence of language of, on\\nOld English, 24, 30.\\n189", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0207.jp2"}, "208": {"fulltext": "I go\\nEARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nCharlemagne, in romance, 58 op-\\nposed to the Danes, 7.\\nChaucer, 120-140; contemporaries\\nof, 98-119; imitators of, 141-\\n147; mentioned, 81, 83.\\nChivalry, rooted in feudalism, 58\\nmoral tone of, 59-65 collapse\\nof, 98, 164; romances of, see\\nRomances.\\nChrestien of Troyes, 59-61, 64,\\n65.\\nChristianity, brought to Britain, 4,\\n6 allusions to, in Beowulf, 36\\neffect of, in Old English litera-\\nture, 41, 42, 45, 57. See also\\nReligion.\\nChronicle, English, 50, 51.\\nChurch, see Clergy, Christianity,\\nReformation, Religion.\\nClassics, influence of, see Revival\\nof Learning, Drama.\\nClaudius, conquest of Britain\\nunder, 2.\\nCleanness, 104-108.\\nClergy, satirized in Land of Co-\\nkaygne, 87-89 in Piers Plow-\\nman, 109, 114 by Skelton, 166,\\n167; by Erasmus, 175, 176;\\npower of, 1 01 corruptness of,\\n90, 100, loi, 117, 165. See also\\nFriars, Monasteries.\\nClerks, 83.\\nCokaygne, The Land of, 87-89.\\nColyn Cloute, 165-167.\\nComplaint to Pity, 124.\\nConfessio Amantis, 11 5-1 19, 162.\\nConstantinople, fall of, 172.\\nCourt of Love, The, 143-147.\\nCuckoo Song, 82, 83.\\nCynewulf, 43-47.\\nDame Siriz, 84, 89.\\nDanes, invasion by, 7-9; effect\\nupon English language, 31; do.\\nupon literature, 48, 50.\\nDante, 125.\\nDialects, Old English, 21 Middle\\nEnglish, 28, 29 confusion of, in\\nMSS., 48 supremacy of East\\nMidland, 29, 115.\\nDrama, early forms, 1 57-1 61 later\\ndevelopment, 185.\\nEdward, 155.\\nEdward III, 98.\\nElene, 43-47-\\nElizabethan age, 184-188.\\nEnglish language, see Old English,\\nMiddle English.\\nErasmus, 171, 17 3-1 81.\\nEuphues, Euphuism, 187.\\nExeter Book, 32, 43.\\nExodus, 41.\\nFabliaux, 84-91, 159.\\nFaerie Queene, 187, 188.\\nFatalism, iii Beoivulf 39.\\nFeudal system, 11, 12 an element\\nin chivalry, 58 collapse of, 99,\\n164.\\nFrench language, in England, 13,\\n14; related to Old English and\\nGerman, 16, 17 to Latin, 23,\\n24 influence of, on Middle\\nEnglish, 25-28.\\nFrench literature, written in Eng-\\nland, 51; influence of, see Ro-\\nmance, Fabliaux, Gower, Chau-\\ncer, Romaunt of the Rose.\\nFriars, attacked by Wyclif, 102\\nby Langland, 109, 129 by Chau-\\ncer, 129. See also Clergy.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0208.jp2"}, "209": {"fulltext": "INDEX\\n191\\nGalahad, 65.\\nGawayne, 62.\\nGawayne and the Green Knight^\\n71, 104, 106.\\nGenesis, 41.\\nGeoffrey of Monmouth, 58, 73.\\nGerman language, relation of, to\\nEnglish, 17-21. See also Teu-\\ntonic.\\nGolden Legend, 164.\\nGorboduc, 185.\\nGower, 11 4-1 19; posthumous repu-\\ntation of, 115, 142, 145.\\nGrail, The, 61-65.\\nGreek in universities, 178. See\\nalso Revival of Learning.\\nGrimm s Law, 18, 20.\\nGuinevere, 59, 71.\\nHenry VII, 164.\\nHenry VIII, 180.\\nHenryson, 142.\\nHistory, mediaeval idea of, 6Z.\\nHoccleve, see Occleve.\\nHoly Grail, 61-65.\\nHumanism, 173-178.\\nHymns, Latin, 57.\\nIndo-European family of lan-\\nguages, 15.\\nItalian literature, early Renaissance\\nin, 122, 172; influence of, on\\nChaucer, 125, 126; do. in six-\\nteenth century, 181, 182.\\nJames I of Scotland, 143.\\nJudith, 47.\\nJutes, 5, 6; dialect of, 21.\\nKent, settlement of, 6 overlord-\\nship of, 7.\\nKing Horn, 69, 70.\\nKingis Quair, 143-147.\\nLancelot, Launcelot, 59, 62,, 71.\\nLancelot of the Lake, 71.\\nLangland, see Piers Plowman.\\nLatin language, in Britain, 3 re-\\nlation of, to French, 23, 24; in-\\nfluence of, on Old English, 24\\nthe language of the monasteries,\\n42, 49, 51; of Gower, 116; of\\nErasmus, 173, 174.\\nLayamon, 65-70, 73.\\nLegend of Good Women, 126-128.\\nLollards, 103; mentioned, 117.\\nLove, in romances, 60, 61, 64, 65,\\n70 in Fabliaux, 89 in Gower,\\n118; in Chaucer, 124-127; in\\nRomaunt of the Rose, 122-124;\\nin lyrics, 82, 181-184, 186.\\nLuther, 178-180.\\nLydgate, 141.\\nLyly, 186, 187.\\nLyrics, Middle English, 82-84\\nRenaissance, 181-184; Eliza-\\nbethan, 186.\\nMalory, 62-64, 71-76, 141, 162.\\nManuscripts, destruction of, 52\\ncost of, 163.\\nMap, Walter, 61, n.\\nMaundevile, Travels of, 148-152.\\nMendicancy, 54-57, 113.\\nMercia, overlordship of, 7 liter-\\nary supremacy, 45 dialect of,\\n21 do. in Middle English, 22,\\n28.\\nMiddle English, 25-29 compared\\nwith Modern, 130, 131.\\nMiracle Plays, 157-159.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0209.jp2"}, "210": {"fulltext": "192\\nEARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nMonasteries, 41, 42 narrowing\\ninfluence of, 49 as storehouses\\nof MSS., 52; decay of, 90,91,\\n164. See also Clergy.\\nMorality Plays, 1 58-161, 185.\\nMorals, philosophy of, 187, 188.\\nSee also Clergy, Monasteries.\\nMore, Sir Thomas, 177, 178, 180.\\nMorte Arthur^ 71.\\nMorte Darthur^ see Malory.\\nMysticism, 57, 150.\\nNature, in Beowulf^ 38, 39 con-\\nventional description of, 124,\\n143 allegorical treatment of,\\n81, 150; in lyrics and ballads,\\nsee 82, 153.\\nNorman Conquest, 9-14 effect\\nof, on English language, 24-28\\non Old English literature, 51,\\n52 on Middle English do., see\\nFrench literature.\\nNorthmen, in England, 7-9; in\\nNormandy, 9.\\nNorthumberland, overlordship of,\\n7 literary supremacy, 40 dia-\\nlect of, 21 do. in Middle Eng-\\nlish, 28.\\nOccleve, 141, 142.\\nOld English language, 21-23;\\ntransition from, to Middle Eng-\\nlish, 25.\\nOld English literature, 32-52.\\nOld Norse, 31.\\nPagan spirit, in Beowulf^ 39\\nCynewulf, 45, 46 Judith^ 47.\\nParliament, 99.\\nPatience^ 104, 106.\\nPatrick, St., 4, 41.\\nPearly 104, 106-108; 122, 124.\\nPetrarch, 125, 172.\\nPiers Plowman, 1 08-1 14, 129;\\nallegory in, 159, 160; compared\\nwith Utopia, 177.\\nPraise of Folly, 174-178.\\nPricke of Cons debtee, 92-97, 188.\\nPrinting, invention of, 162-164.\\nPronunciation, Chaucer s, 130.\\nProse, of Bede, 42 ^Elfred, 49;\\nMalory, 62-64, 71-76 Maunde-\\nvile, 148-151 Lyly, 187.\\nProtestantism, see Reformation.\\nQuest of the Holy Grail, 7 1\\nReformation, 178-180; preluded\\nby Lollardry, 103.\\nReligion, of Britons, 2 of early\\nEnglish, 6 in Cynewulf, 45\\nAlliterative Poems, 104-108 in\\nfourteenth century, 100-103\\nconflict with science, 149, 150.\\nSee also Christianity, Asceticism,\\nTheology, Grail, Clergy, Monas-\\nteries, Catholicism.\\nRenaissance, 162-188.\\nRevival of Learning, 172-178,\\n187, 188.\\nReynard the Fox, 85, 162.\\nRiddles, Old English, 45.\\nRoUe, Richard, of Hampole, 91-\\n97.\\nRomances of Chivalry, 53-76,\\n1 06 contrasted with fabliaux,\\n88-90.\\nRomaunt of the Rose, 122-124\\ninfluence on Chaucer, 124, 125,\\n127; on others, 124, 143-147.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0210.jp2"}, "211": {"fulltext": "INDEX\\n193\\nRome, conquest of Britain by,\\n2-4 Church of, see Catholi-\\ncism, Christianity, Reformation.\\nRoses, Wars of, 164.\\nRound Table, see Arthur.\\nRunes, in Cynewulf, 44.\\nSatire, in fabliaux^ etc., 84-91\\nPiers Plowman^ 1 09-1 12, 114,\\n129; Chaucer, 129 Skelton,\\n165-169; Erasmus, 174-176.\\nSaxons, 4-6; dialect of, 21. See\\nalso W ess ex.\\nSchools, French spoken in, 13,\\n14. See also Universities.\\nScience, mediaeval, 80, 149-152;\\nRenaissance, 173, 177.\\nScotch dialect, 29.\\nSir Patrick Spens, 154.\\nSkelton, 164-169.\\nSonnet, 182, 183.\\nSpeculum Meditantis, 115.\\nSpenser, 187, 188.\\nSummoner *s Tale, 129.\\nSurrey, 180-183, 186.\\nTeutonic languages, 16-21 leg-\\nends in English romance, 69.\\nTheology, mediaeval, 171, 175;\\nRenaissance, 173, 178, 179.\\nThomas Aquinas, 170, 171.\\nTragedy, 185.\\nTransubstantiation, 102 Lang-\\nland s belief in, 114.\\nTroiliis and Cressida, 126, 127\\nimitated by Henryson, 142;\\nstanza-form of, 147.\\nTroy legend in romance, 58.\\nTunnyng of Elynoicr Riimmyng,\\n167-169.\\nUniversities, mediaeval, 169-172;\\nRevival of Learning at, 178,\\n180, 181 influence of, on Eng-\\nlish dialects, 29 on early secu-\\nlar literature, 83 on drama,\\n185.\\nUtopia, 177, 178, 180.\\nVercelli Book, 43.\\nVersification, Old English, 36,\\n37 Lay am on, 66 King Horn,\\n70; Alliterative Poems, 104;\\nChaucer, 130 Rime Royal,\\n147 ballad stanza, 153\\nSkelton, 165; the sonnet, 182,\\n183; blank verse, 183.\\nVox and the Wolf, 85-87.\\nVox Clarnantis, 115.\\nWace, (y(^, 68.\\nWelsh, see Celts.\\nWessex, overlordship of, 7 su-\\npremacy of, in literature, 48-\\n50 dialect of, 22 in Middle\\nEnglish, 28.\\nWest Saxons, see Wessex.\\nWidsith, 32-34.\\nWife of Bathes Tale, 130-140;\\nGower s version of, 118, 119.\\nWilliam the Conqueror, 10, 12,13.\\nWyatt, 180-184, 186.\\nWyclif, 102, 103.\\nWyrd, in Beowulf, 39.", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0211.jp2"}, "212": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0212.jp2"}, "213": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0213.jp2"}, "214": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0214.jp2"}, "215": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0215.jp2"}, "216": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4444", "width": "2788", "jp2-path": "beginningsofengl01lewi_0216.jp2"}}