1

the gay dresses to which he paid no outward reverence. We should also observe his frequent allusions to lawyers, to the lawcourts at Westminster, and to legal processes. He has a mock charter, beginning with the ordinary formula Sciant presentes et futuri (C. iii. 78); a form of making a will (C. ix. 95); and in one passage (C. xiv. 120) he speaks with such scorn of a man who draws up a charter badly, who interlines it or leaves out sentences, or puts false Latin into it, that we may fairly suppose him to have been conversant with the writing out of legal documents, and to have eked out his subsistence by the small sums received for doing so. Further, he tells us that no churl may make a charter (C. xiii. 61), and that a felon may not be twice hanged (C. xxi. 425); draws attention to a point of Westminster law (C. xi. 239); and talks of the bribery that was often effective in Westminster Hall, in the Court of Arches, and in procuring divorces (C. xxiii. 133, 136, 138). The various texts of the poem are so consistent, the revision is of so close and minute a character, and the numerous transpositions of the subjectmatter in the latest version are managed with such skill, that we may well believe him to have been his own scribe in the first instance, though we cannot now certainly point to any MS. as an autograph. Nevertheless, the very neatly written MS. Laud 581 is so extremely correct as regards the sense, and is marked for correction on account of such minute errors, that, if it be not an autograph, he must at any rate have perused it, and its authority must be accepted in doubtful cases.

The author's exact condition in life remains somewhat uncertain. M. Jusserand seems to think that the passage in C. ii. 72–75 (cf. B. i. 75–78, A. i. 73–76), where Holy-Church claims the author as her true servant, proves that he was in the church; but I understand the matter quite differently, for it merely refers to his reception into the church by baptism, when he (to use his own words) 'brought her sureties to fulfil her bidding, and to believe in her and love her all his life-time;' or, as he again says in another passage, 'I thought upon Holy-Church, who received me at the font as one of God's chosen' (C. xiii. 51). The most explicit statements occur in C. vi. 1-101, where he tells us how he lived at one time in a cot on Cornhill, with his wife Kitte, clothed like a Loller, yet not much beloved by the Lollers of London, because he composed 1 Rich. Redeless, iii. 152.

2 C. i. 91; iii. 61, 148, 169, 174, 186; iv. 13, &c.

verses concerning them. Since his friends died, he had never found any mode of life that he cared to adopt, except that in long robes; the tools that he worked with and whereby he obtained his livelihood were the pater-noster, placebo, dirige, his psalter, and the seven. psalms. He sung for the souls of such as had helped him to subsist, and went from house to house amongst such as were willing to give him an occasional meal, like a beggar who has no bag or bottle to carry about with him, but only his belly, as a receptacle for food. He claims exemption from manual labour because he is a tonsured clerk, who is exempted from toiling like a labourer, from swearing at inquests, and from fighting in the vanguard of an army; seeing that the prayers of a perfect man, and discreet penance1, are the kinds of service that most please our Lord. It thus appears that he had received the tonsure, but probably had only taken minor orders, and, being a married man 2, was hardly in a position to rise in the church. He has many allusions to his poverty.

M. Jusserand points out that the poet seems to confess that he lived just such an idle and blameworthy life as did those against whom he directs his satire. He condemns those who went to live in London, in order to sing there for simony, for silver is sweet' (C. i. 84); yet he himself lived in London, and upon London, and sang for men's souls (C. vi. 44-48). He condemns beggars (C. ix. 124-128, 139, 158, &c.); yet he begged himself (C. vi. 51). He inveighs against 'great loobies and long, that loath were to work' (C. i. 53); yet he himself was 'too long to stoop low, or to work as a workman' (C. vi. 24). It is therefore fitting that he should remind men that they ought to practise what they preach (C. vi. 142); and that he should recognise the existence of men who 'could shew wise words, and yet work the contrary' (B. xii. 51). Nevertheless, I think we may see a wide difference between the vicars who had cure of souls, yet deserted their parishes in the time of trial, and the poor poet and student, who was fain to keep himself from starving by performing such duties as were most suitable for him; between the 'long loobies' who went on a pilgrimage to Walsingham as pretended hermits, and our Long Will, who had become so habituated

There is a vein of satire running through all these remarks upon himself. Conscience, in fact, reproves him (C. vi. 89), and he admits the justice of the reproof.

There was always more laxity in England (especially in the North) than on the continent, with respect to the celibacy of the clergy; see note to C. xi. 284.

to reading and learning that he was unfitted for working in the fields. We must not lay too much stress upon his confession, in his declining age, that he had often sadly misspent his time (C. vi. 93); many a man of active mind and contemplative habits is saddened by reflection upon his wasted opportunities. The man who composed Piers. Plowman, and wrote it out himself, and subsequently revised it with great care, making numerous additions to it, and again wrote it out at least twice, not only proved his industry, but has left an enduring monument of a useful life.

§ 12. CRITICISMS ON THE POEM.

For the sake of completeness, I add a few selections from criticisms by various writers, but in an abbreviated form. The student who requires full information is referred to the works themselves.

BY ISAAC D'ISRAELI.

Isaac D'Israeli, in his Amenities of Literature, has an interesting article upon our author. He rightly censures the remark in Warton', that instead of availing himself of the rising and rapid improvements of the English language, Langland prefers and adopts the style of the Anglo-Saxon poets,' but is not happy in his own statement, that Langland 'avoided all exotic novelties in the energy of his AngloSaxon genius.' D'Israeli proceeds to discuss the poem, and has, among others, these remarks.

'Our author's indignant spirit, indeed, is vehemently democratic. He dared to write what many trembled to whisper. Genius reflects the suppressed feelings of its age . . . But our country priest, in his contemplative mood, was not less remarkable for his prudence than for his bold freedom, aware that the most corrupt would be the most vindictive. . . The sage, the satirist, and the seer (for prophet he proved to be), veiled his head in allegory; he published no other names than those of the virtues and vices; and to avoid personality, he contented himself with personification.

1 Hist. Eng. Poetry, sect. viii.

* Our old critics generally go astray when they offer remarks upon the language of the Middle-English period, which they seldom understood. As a fact, Langland used the language of his neighbours, which abounded in words of French origin. See Marsh's Lectures, 1st Series, pp. 124, 168; and see p. xlix, note 1.

'A voluminous allegory is the rudest and the most insupportable of all poetic fictions; it originates in an early period of society— when its circles are contracted and isolated, and the poet is more conversant with the passions of mankind than with individuals. A genius of the highest order alone could lead us through a single perusal of such a poem, by the charm of vivifying details, which enable us to forget the allegory altogether. . . In such creative touches, the author of Piers Plowman displays pictures of domestic life with the minute fidelity of a Flemish painting; so veracious is his simplicity. He is a great satirist, touching with caustic invective or keen irony the public abuses and private vices; but in the depth of his emotions, and in the wildness of his imagination, he breaks forth in the solemn tones and with the sombre majesty of Dante.

'But this rude native genius was profound as he was sagacious; and his philosophy terminated in prophecy. At the era of the Reformation they were startled by the discovery of an unknown writer, who, two centuries preceding that awful change, had predicted the fate of the religious houses from the hand of a king (B. x. 327; p. 310). The visionary seer seems to have fallen on the principle which led Erasmus to predict that those who were in power would seize on the rich shrines, because no other class of men in society could mate with so mighty a body as the monks . . . .

'Why our rustic bard selected the character of a Ploughman as the personage adapted to convey to us his theological mysteries, we know not precisely to ascertain; but it probably occurred as a companion fitted to the humbler condition of the apostles themselves. Such however was the power of the genius of this writer, that his successors were content to look for no one of a higher class to personify their solemn themes. Hence we have the Creed of Pierce Ploughman, the Praier and Complaynte of the Plowman, the Plowman's Tale inserted in Chaucer's volume; all being equally directed against the vicious clergy of the day.'

BY DR. WHITAKER.

The most valuable passages in the Introduction to Dr. Whitaker's edition of Piers Plowman are those which relate to Langland himself and to the general character of his poem. Whether we entirely agree with him or not, these passages are certainly worthy of perusal, and I therefore reprint them here without further apology.

'During the reign of Edward the Third, one of the most splendid, but not the most refined in our annals, yet equally removed from both these extremes, arose in this country two poets, the writings of one of whom contributed to enlarge the minds, and of the other to improve the moral feelings of their contemporaries in a degree unfelt since the æras of the great Roman satirists. The first of these, a man of the world and a courtier, at once informed and delighted the higher orders by his original and lively portraits of human nature in every rank, and almost under every modification, while he prevented or perverted the proper effect of satire by the most licentious and obscene exhibitions. The latter, an obscure country priest, much addicted to solitary contemplation, but at the same time a keen and severe observer of human nature; well read in the scriptures and schoolmen, and intimately acquainted with the old language and poetry of his country, in an uncouth dialect and rugged metre, by his sarcastic and ironical vein of wit, his knowledge of low life, his solemnity on some occasions, his gaiety on others, his striking personifications, dark allusions, and rapid transitions, has contrived1 to support and animate an allegory (the most insipid for the most part and tedious of all vehicles of instruction) through a bulky volume. By what inducement he was led to prefer this vehicle, it is not difficult to conjecture. From his subordinate station in the church, this free reprover of the higher ranks was exposed to all the severities of ecclesiastical discipline: and from the aristocratical temper of the times he was liable to be crushed by the civil power. Everything, therefore, of a personal nature was in common prudence to be avoided. The great were not then accustomed, as a licentious press has since disciplined them, to endure the freedoms of reprehension:-authority was, even when abused, sacred; and rank, when united with vice, was enabled to keep its partner in countenAbove all, the great ecclesiastics were as vindictive as they were corrupt and hence the satirist was compelled to shelter himself under the distant generalities of personification.

ance.

'But, unfortunately, by this means, whatever he gained in personal security, he lost in the point and distinctness of his satire. Mere personifications of virtues and vices, however skilfully and powerfully touched, are capable of few strokes: the quality is simple, but different individuals, who partake of it in a degree however preeminent, combine and modify it in such an infinite variety of ways, 1 Printed 'continued'; but surely a misprint.