'And a pound of garleek, And a ferthyng-worth of fenel-seed Thanne goth Glotin in, And grete othes after. Cesse the souteresse (female shoemaker) Sat on the benche; Watte the warner (warrener), And his wif bothe; Tymme the tynkere, And tweyne of his prentices; Hikke the hakeney-man, And Hughe the nedlere (maker or seller of needles); Clarice of Cokkeslane, And the clerk of the chirche; Dawe the dykere (ditcher), And a dozeyne othere." pp. 95, 96. Some of these dozen are enumerated, and a sort of mock raffle ensues for Clement's cloke and Hikke's hood, the apparent object being a "treat." Then "There was laughynge and lourynge, And lat go the cuppe;' And seten so til even-song, And songen (singing) umwhile, Til Gloton hadde y-glubbed (sucked in) A galon and a gille. He myghte neither steppe ne stonde, And thanne gan he to go Like a gle-mannes bicche, Som tyme aside, And som tyme arere, As who so leith lynes For to lacche foweles (catch birds). Clement the cobelere Kaughte hym by the myddel, For to liften hym o-lofte; And leyde hym on his knowes (knees). Ac (and) Gloton was a gret cherl, And koughed up a cawdel In Clementes lappe; Is noon so hungry hound In Hertford shire Dorste lape of that levynges, So un-lovely thei smaughte (smelled). His wif and his wenche (servant-girl) And broughte hym therinne; And after al this excesse He hadde an accidie (fit of exhaustion), Thanne waked he of his wynkyng, And wiped hise eighen; The firste worde that he warpe (uttered) pp. 97-99. Unless in extreme cases, the particular seasons have little general effect upon the well-being of modern society, although certain trades suffer from slackness owing to fashion or weather. It was not so, even with the rich, to a comparatively late period. The simple agriculture of our ancestors supplied but scanty fodder and no roots for the cattle. The larger part consequently had to be slaughtered at the end of autumn, and salted down for winter and spring consumption. Even the highest classes had to live chiefly on salt meat, especially when landlords resided on their estates. This food, with scarcely any vegetable diet, would naturally breed an ill habit of body, that doubtless rendered the epidemic diseases of the middle ages so fatal. These circumstances made summer and an early harvesttime very important to our ancestors. It was not merely warmth and pleasant weather, delightful as they are, but the food they brought with them. There is a scene in Piers Ploughman which strikingly illustrates this peculiarity of the times, and the different articles of food to which the people had recourse before harvest. It also illustrates the thoughtlessness of the poor, which unfortunately yet remains. When Piers calls for Hunger to punish Waster, he comes; but he will not go away, and all struggle to feed him, till the harvest. "Al the povere peple tho (then) Pescoddes fetten (fetched), Benes and baken apples Thei broghte in hir (their) lappes, Chibolles (a kind of leek) and chervelles (a pot-herb), And ripe chiries manye, And profrede Piers this present To plese with Hunger. Al Hunger eet in haste, And axed after moore. Thanne povere folk, for fere, Fedden Hunger yerne (eagerly), With grene poret (a leek) and pesen (peas), To poisone hym thei thoghte. By that it neghed neer hervest, And newe corn cam to chepyng (market); Thanne was folk fayn (glad), And fedde Hunger with the beste, And garte (made) Hunger go slepe. Ne no beggere ete breed That benes inne were, But of coket and cler-matyn,* Or ellis of clene whete; Ne noon halfpeny ale But of the beste and of the brunneste (brownest) That in burghe is to selle. Laborers that have no land To lyve on but hire handes, Ne no pece of bacone, But if (unless) it be fresshe flessh outher (or) fisshe, He (the labourer) greveth hym ageyn God, And gruccheth ageyn Reson, And thanne corseth he the kyng, And al his counseil after, Swiche lawes to loke Laborers to greve t Ac (but) whiles Hunger was hir maister, Ther wolde noon of hem chide, Ne stryven ayeins his statut, So sterneliche he loked." pp. 134-137. A volume of pictures such as these might be taken from the poem, varying in subjects, but all illustrative of the manners, religion, or theology of the period. Enough, however, has been quoted to indicate the nature of the work. It is time, too, to quit the "Vision" for the "Creed." In certain palpable or technical points this latter production is, what it has often been called, an imitation of the "Vision." The versification is the same. The "Creed" is likewise a species of monologue narrative; for although it mainly consists of dialogue, the whole is told in the first person; while the title, The Creed of Piers Ploughman, was obviously suggested by the popularity which had attached to the name of Piers. In some essential points, however, there are broad distinctions between the two works. Though a zealous reformer of the priesthood, the Monk of Malvern was a firm believer in the doctrines and dogmas of the Romish Church. The author of the "Creed" was a Wicliffite and a heretic, or at least a favourer Finer kinds than bean bread. The Statute of Labourers had not passed long before, in 1350. It enforced labour, regulated the rate of wages, and fixed the prices of provisions. Labourers, however, had not the meaning now attached to the word, but rather meant men in the position of modern artisans. of heretics. Although his work was to a certainty written upwards of thirty years after the "Vision," the English is inferior, being crabbed and more uncouth, as if the author were writing in a provincial dialect. His literature, too, is inferior to that of the Monk of Malvern, although the greater part of Chaucer's works, if not the whole, were published before he wrote, and probably Gower's Confessio Amantis. From the limitation of the action of the dramatis persone in the "Creed" to the poor and to the friars, as well as from its inferiority in literary character, the author would seem to have occupied a lower social position than the Monk of Malvern, or to have enjoyed fewer advantages. This, however, is mere conjecture, for about him nothing whatever is known. In those essential qualities which must maintain the interest of a work,-namely, poetical spirit, perceptive faculty, and the power of presenting what is seen,-the "Creed" is nearly equal to the "Vision." In structure it is far superior to its prototype. Not only does the writer drive directly to his object, scarcely ever leaving it, but the author's design is inextricably connected with the story. Whether in his own development, or reduced to the merest abridgment, the ignorance, avarice, jealousy, and odium theologicum of the four orders of the friars towards each other, cannot be eliminated. The plot is very simple. A humble Christian has learned his Pater noster and his Ave Maria" almoste to the end." But his great object is the Creed; and having failed in other quarters, he sets forth in search of the friars, thinking that they, at all events, would be able to teach him. The first he encounters is a Minorite; and having asked the friar if he should apply to the Carmelites, receives such an account of that order as would prevent any prudent man from letting one of them into his house, much more trusting his salvation to them. The seeker then applies to the Dominicans (Black Friars, or preachers), to inquire touching the Austins. He wanders through their "house," describing minutely its palatial splendours, and learns from a burly over-fleshed friar, capitally painted, that any brother of the Austins is worse than worthless. "He holdeth his ordynaunce With hores and theves." The next application regards the Minorites, or Gray Friars. It is made to the Augustins (Austyns), the site of whose London house is still pointed out in Austin Friars. The brother the seeker addresses is "Almost madde in mynde, To see how these minours Many men bygyleth—” How avaricious, how gluttonous, how hypocritical they are, and how they break the rules of their founder St. Francis! As little edified by the Augustin's praises of his own order as by his attack upon others, the simple seeker after his Creed quits him, and peeping into a tavern spies a couple of Carmelites, or White Friars. Them he questions with the same success as attended his other queries. The Dominicans, whom he now inquires about, are described as "so dique (worthy) as the Devil, that dropped from heaven." But though none of them can teach him his Creed, they offer to assoil him, and take his sins upon themselves, if he will pay them. Disgusted by all he has met with, the searcher departs. As he wanders on his way, he falls in with a poor ploughman and his family. The poverty is probably exaggerated; for the ploughman of those days was a small tenant-farmer, not a mere labourer, though called so in the statute. But be this as it may, it is a curious photograph of a rustic family at work, circa 1390. "Thanne turnede I me forth, And talked to myselfe Of the falshede of this folke, And as I wente by the way Wepynge for sorowe, I seigh (saw) a sely (simple) man me by, Opon the plough hongen. His cote was of a cloute That cary was y-called; His hod (hood) was ful of holes, And his heare (hair) oute; With his knoppede shon (shoes full of knobs) Clouted (patched) ful thykke; His ton toteden (toes peeped) out, As he the lond tredede (trod); His hosen over-hongen his hokshynest On everich a syde, Al beslomered in fen (mire), As he the plow folwede (plough followed). Tweye myteynes (gloves) as meter (not known) Maad al of cloutes, The fyngres weren for-werd (worn out), And ful of fen (mire) honged (hung). This whit (man) waselede in the feent Almost to the ancle ; Foure rotheren (oxen) hym byforne, That feble were worthi (become); Men myghte reknen ich a ryb (each rib), So rentful (miserable) they weren. His wiif walked hym with, |