Chapter 3

"Such as for honour unto the court resort,Looke seldome times upon the lower sort;To the hyer sort for moste part they intende,For still their desire is hyer to ascendeAnd when none can make with them comparison,Against their princes conspire they by treason,Then when their purpose can nat come well to frame,Agayne they descende and that with utter shame,Coridon thou knowest right well what I meane,We lately of this experience haue seeneWhen men would ascende to rowmes honorableEuer is their minde and lust insaciable."

"Such as for honour unto the court resort,

Looke seldome times upon the lower sort;

To the hyer sort for moste part they intende,

For still their desire is hyer to ascende

And when none can make with them comparison,

Against their princes conspire they by treason,

Then when their purpose can nat come well to frame,

Agayne they descende and that with utter shame,

Coridon thou knowest right well what I meane,

We lately of this experience haue seene

When men would ascende to rowmes honorable

Euer is their minde and lust insaciable."

The most definite proof of the date of publication, however, is found in the fourth Eclogue. It contains a long poem called The towre of vertue and honour, which is really a highly-wrought elegy on the premature and glorious death, not of "the Duke of Norfolk, Lord High admiral, and one of Barclay's patrons," as has been repeated parrot-like, from Warton downwards, but of his chivalrous son, Sir Edward Howard, Lord High Admiral for the short space of a few months, who perished in his gallant, if reckless, attack upon the French fleet in the harbour of Brest in the year 1513. It is incomprehensible that the date of the publication of the Eclogues should be fixed at 1514, and this blunder still perpetuated. No Duke of Norfolk died between Barclay's boyhood and 1524, ten years after the agreed upon date of the Elegy; and the Duke (Thomas), who was Barclay's patron, never held the position of Lord High Admiral (though his son Lord Thomas, created Earl of Surrey in 1514, and who afterwards succeeded him, also succeeded his brother Sir Edward in the Admiralship), but worthily enjoyed the dignified offices of Lord High Steward, Lord Treasurer, and Earl Marshal, and died one of Henry's most respected and most popular Ministers, at his country seat, at a good old age, in the year above mentioned, 1524. The other allusions to contemporary events, and especially to the poet's age, preclude the idea of carrying forward the publication to the latter date, did the clearly defined points of the Elegy allow of it, as they do not.

Minalcas, one of the interlocutors, thus introduces the subject:—

"But it is lamentableTo heare a Captayne so good and honorable,So soonewithdrawen by deathes crueltie,Before his vertue was at moste hye degree.If death for a season had shewed him fauour,To all his nation he should haue bene honour."

"But it is lamentable

To heare a Captayne so good and honorable,

So soonewithdrawen by deathes crueltie,

Before his vertue was at moste hye degree.

If death for a season had shewed him fauour,

To all his nation he should haue bene honour."

"'The Towre of Vertue and Honor,' introduced as a song of one of the shepherds into these pastorals, exhibits no very masterly strokes of a sublime and inventive fancy. It has much of the trite imagery usually applied in the fabrication of these ideal edifices. It, however, shows our author in a new walk of poetry. This magnificent tower, or castle is built on inaccessible cliffs of flint: the walls are of gold, bright as the sun, and decorated with 'olde historyes and pictures manyfolde:' the turrets are beautifully shaped. Among its heroic inhabitants are Henry VIII., ['in his maiestie moste hye enhaunsed as ought a conquerour,' no doubt an allusion to the battle of the Spurs and his other exploits in France in 1513], Howard Duke of Norfolk, ['the floure of chiualry'], and the Earl of Shrewsbury, ['manfull and hardy, with other princes and men of dignitie']. Labour is the porter at the gate, and Virtue governs the house. Labour is thus pictured, with some degree of spirit:—

'Fearefull is labour without fauour at all,Dreadfull of visage, a monster intreatable,Like Cerberus lying at gates infernall;To some men his looke is halfe intollerable,His shoulders large, for burthen strong and able,His body bristled, his necke mightie and stiffe;By sturdy senewes, his ioyntes stronge and stable,Like marble stones his handes be as stiffe.Here must man vanquishe the dragon of Cadmus,Against the Chimer here stoutly must he fight,Here must he vanquish the fearefull Pegasus,For the golden flece here must he shewe his might:If labour gaynsay, he can nothing be right,This monster labour oft chaungeth his figure,Sometime an oxe, a bore, or lion wight,Playnely he seemeth, thus chaungeth his nature,Like as Protheus ofte chaunged his stature.· · · · · · ·Under his browes he dreadfully doth loure,With glistering eyen, and side dependaunt beard,For thirst and hunger alway his chere is soure.His horned forehead doth make faynt heartes feard.Alway he drinketh, and yet alway is drye,The sweat distilling with droppes aboundaunt,'· · · · · · ·

'Fearefull is labour without fauour at all,

Dreadfull of visage, a monster intreatable,

Like Cerberus lying at gates infernall;

To some men his looke is halfe intollerable,

His shoulders large, for burthen strong and able,

His body bristled, his necke mightie and stiffe;

By sturdy senewes, his ioyntes stronge and stable,

Like marble stones his handes be as stiffe.

Here must man vanquishe the dragon of Cadmus,Against the Chimer here stoutly must he fight,Here must he vanquish the fearefull Pegasus,For the golden flece here must he shewe his might:If labour gaynsay, he can nothing be right,This monster labour oft chaungeth his figure,Sometime an oxe, a bore, or lion wight,Playnely he seemeth, thus chaungeth his nature,

Here must man vanquishe the dragon of Cadmus,

Against the Chimer here stoutly must he fight,

Here must he vanquish the fearefull Pegasus,

For the golden flece here must he shewe his might:

If labour gaynsay, he can nothing be right,

This monster labour oft chaungeth his figure,

Sometime an oxe, a bore, or lion wight,

Playnely he seemeth, thus chaungeth his nature,

Like as Protheus ofte chaunged his stature.· · · · · · ·Under his browes he dreadfully doth loure,With glistering eyen, and side dependaunt beard,For thirst and hunger alway his chere is soure.His horned forehead doth make faynt heartes feard.

Like as Protheus ofte chaunged his stature.

· · · · · · ·

Under his browes he dreadfully doth loure,

With glistering eyen, and side dependaunt beard,

For thirst and hunger alway his chere is soure.

His horned forehead doth make faynt heartes feard.

Alway he drinketh, and yet alway is drye,The sweat distilling with droppes aboundaunt,'· · · · · · ·

Alway he drinketh, and yet alway is drye,

The sweat distilling with droppes aboundaunt,'

· · · · · · ·

"The poet adds, 'that when the noble Howard had long boldly contended with this hideous monster, had broken the bars and doors of the castle, had bound the porter, and was now preparing to ascend the tower of Virtue and Honour, Fortune and Death appeared, and interrupted his progress.'" (Warton, Eng. Poetry, III.)

The hero's descent and knightly qualities are duly set forth:—

"Though he were borne to glory and honour,Of auncient stocke and noble progenie,Yet thought his courage to be of more valour,By his owne actes and noble chiualry.Like as becommeth a knight to fortifyeHis princes quarell with right and equitie,So did this Hawarde with courage valiauntly,Till death abated his bolde audacitie."

"Though he were borne to glory and honour,

Of auncient stocke and noble progenie,

Yet thought his courage to be of more valour,

By his owne actes and noble chiualry.

Like as becommeth a knight to fortifye

His princes quarell with right and equitie,

So did this Hawarde with courage valiauntly,

Till death abated his bolde audacitie."

The poet, gives "cursed fortune" a severe rating, and at such length that the old lady no doubt repented herself, for cutting off so promising a heroat so early an age:—

"Tell me, frayle fortune, why did thou breuiateThe liuing season of suche a captayne,That when his actes ought to be laureateThy fauour turned him suffring to be slayne?"

"Tell me, frayle fortune, why did thou breuiate

The liuing season of suche a captayne,

That when his actes ought to be laureate

Thy fauour turned him suffring to be slayne?"

And then he addresses the Duke himself in a consolatory strain, endeavouring to reconcile him to the loss of so promising a son, by recalling to his memory those heroes of antiquity whose careers of glory were cut short by sudden and violent deaths:—

"But moste worthy duke hye and victorious,Respire to comfort, see the vncertentieOf other princes, whose fortune prosperousOftetime haue ended in hard aduersitie:Read of Pompeius," [&c.]· · · · · ·"This shall be, this is, and this hath euer bene,That boldest heartes be nearest ieopardie,To dye in battayle is honour as men weneTo suche as haue ioy in haunting chiualry."Suche famous ending the name doth magnifie,Note worthy duke, no cause is to complayne,His life not ended foule nor dishonestly,In bed nor tauerne his lustes to maynteyne,But like as besemed a noble captayne,In sturdie harnes he died for the right,From deathes daunger no man may flee certayne,But suche death is metest vnto so noble a knight."But death it to call me thinke it vnright,Sith his worthy name shall laste perpetuall," [&c.]

"But moste worthy duke hye and victorious,

Respire to comfort, see the vncertentie

Of other princes, whose fortune prosperous

Oftetime haue ended in hard aduersitie:

Read of Pompeius," [&c.]

· · · · · ·

"This shall be, this is, and this hath euer bene,

That boldest heartes be nearest ieopardie,

To dye in battayle is honour as men wene

To suche as haue ioy in haunting chiualry.

"Suche famous ending the name doth magnifie,Note worthy duke, no cause is to complayne,His life not ended foule nor dishonestly,In bed nor tauerne his lustes to maynteyne,But like as besemed a noble captayne,In sturdie harnes he died for the right,From deathes daunger no man may flee certayne,But suche death is metest vnto so noble a knight.

"Suche famous ending the name doth magnifie,

Note worthy duke, no cause is to complayne,

His life not ended foule nor dishonestly,

In bed nor tauerne his lustes to maynteyne,

But like as besemed a noble captayne,

In sturdie harnes he died for the right,

From deathes daunger no man may flee certayne,

But suche death is metest vnto so noble a knight.

"But death it to call me thinke it vnright,Sith his worthy name shall laste perpetuall," [&c.]

"But death it to call me thinke it vnright,

Sith his worthy name shall laste perpetuall," [&c.]

This detail and these long quotations have been rendered necessary by the strange blunder which has been made and perpetuated as to the identity of the young hero whose death is so feelingly lamented in this elegy. With that now clearly ascertained, we can not only fix with confidence the date of the publication of the Eclogues, but by aid of the hint conveyed in the Prologue, quoted above (p. lv.), as to the author's age, "fortie saue twayne," decide, for the first time, the duration of his life, and the dates, approximately at least, of its incidents, and of the appearance of his undated works. Lord Edward Howard, perhaps the bravest and rashest of England's admirals, perished in a madly daring attack upon the harbour of Brest, on the 25th of April, 1514. As the eclogues could not therefore have been published prior to that date, so, bearing in mind the other allusions referred to above, they could scarcely have appeared later. Indeed, the loss which the elegy commemorates is spoken of as quite recent, while the elegy itself bears every appearance of having been introduced into the eclogue at the last moment. We feel quite satisfied therefore that Warton hit quite correctly upon the year 1514 as that in which these poems first saw the light, though the ground (the allusion to the Henries) upon which he went was insufficient, and his identification of the hero of the elegy contradicted his supposition. Had he been aware of the importance of fixing the date correctly, he would probably have taken more care than to fall into the blunder of confounding the father with the son, and adorning the former with the dearly earned laurels of the latter.

It may be added that, fixing 1514 as the date at which Barclay had arrived at the age of 38, agrees perfectly with all else we know of his years, with the assumed date of his academical education, and of his travels abroad, with the suppositions formed as to his age from his various published works having dates attached to them, and finally, with the traditional "great age" at which he died, which would thus be six years beyond the allotted span.

After the Ship of Fools the Eclogues rank second in importance in a consideration of Barclay's writings. Not only as the first of their kind in English, do they crown their author with the honour of introducing this kind of poetry to English literature, but they are in themselves most interesting and valuable as faithful and graphic pictures of the court, citizen, and country life of the period. Nowhere else in so accessible a form do there exist descriptions at once so full and so accurate of the whole condition of the people. Their daily life and habits, customs, manners, sports, and pastimes, are all placed on the canvas before us with a ready, vigorous, unflinching hand. Witness for instance the following sketch, which might be entitled, "Life, temp. 1514":—

"Some men deliteth beholding men to fight,Or goodly knightes in pleasaunt apparayle,Or sturdie souldiers in bright harnes and male.· · · · · · · ·Some glad is to see these Ladies beauteous,Goodly appoynted in clothing sumpteous:A number of people appoynted in like wise:In costly clothing after the newest gise,Sportes, disgising, fayre coursers mount and praunce,Or goodly ladies and knightes sing and daunce:To see fayre houses and curious picture(s),Or pleasaunt hanging, or sumpteous vestureOf silke, of purpure, or golde moste orient,And other clothing diuers and excellent:Hye curious buildinges or palaces royall,Or chapels, temples fayre and substanciall,Images grauen or vaultes curious;Gardeyns and medowes, or place delicious,Forestes and parkes well furnished with dere,Colde pleasaunt streames or welles fayre and clere,Curious cundites or shadowie mountaynes,Swete pleasaunt valleys, laundes or playnesHoundes, and suche other thinges manyfoldeSome men take pleasour and solace to beholde."

"Some men deliteth beholding men to fight,

Or goodly knightes in pleasaunt apparayle,

Or sturdie souldiers in bright harnes and male.

· · · · · · · ·

Some glad is to see these Ladies beauteous,

Goodly appoynted in clothing sumpteous:

A number of people appoynted in like wise:

In costly clothing after the newest gise,

Sportes, disgising, fayre coursers mount and praunce,

Or goodly ladies and knightes sing and daunce:

To see fayre houses and curious picture(s),

Or pleasaunt hanging, or sumpteous vesture

Of silke, of purpure, or golde moste orient,

And other clothing diuers and excellent:

Hye curious buildinges or palaces royall,

Or chapels, temples fayre and substanciall,

Images grauen or vaultes curious;

Gardeyns and medowes, or place delicious,

Forestes and parkes well furnished with dere,

Colde pleasaunt streames or welles fayre and clere,

Curious cundites or shadowie mountaynes,

Swete pleasaunt valleys, laundes or playnes

Houndes, and suche other thinges manyfolde

Some men take pleasour and solace to beholde."

The following selections illustrative of the customs and manners of the times will serve as a sample of the overflowing cask from which they are taken. The condition of the country people is clearly enough indicated in a description of the village Sunday, the manner of its celebration being depicted in language calculated to make a modern sabbatarian's hair stand on end:—

"What man is faultlesse, remember the village,Howe men vplondish on holy dayes rage.Nought can them tame, they be a beastly sort,In sweate and labour hauing most chiefe comfort,On the holy day assoone as morne is past,When all men resteth while all the day doth last,They drinke, they banket, they reuell and they iestThey leape, they daunce, despising ease and rest.If they once heare a bagpipe or a drone,Anone to the elme or oke they be gone.There vse they to daunce, to gambolde and to rageSuch is the custome and vse of the village.When the ground resteth from rake, plough and wheles,Then moste they it trouble with burthen of their heles:Faustus.To Bacchus they banket, no feast is festiuall,They chide and they chat, they vary and they brall,They rayle and they route, they reuell and they crye,Laughing and leaping, and making cuppes drye.What, stint thou thy chat, these wordes I defye,It is to a vilayne rebuke and vilany.Such rurall solace so plainly for to blame,Thy wordes sound to thy rebuke and shame."

"What man is faultlesse, remember the village,

Howe men vplondish on holy dayes rage.

Nought can them tame, they be a beastly sort,

In sweate and labour hauing most chiefe comfort,

On the holy day assoone as morne is past,

When all men resteth while all the day doth last,

They drinke, they banket, they reuell and they iest

They leape, they daunce, despising ease and rest.

If they once heare a bagpipe or a drone,

Anone to the elme or oke they be gone.

There vse they to daunce, to gambolde and to rage

Such is the custome and vse of the village.

When the ground resteth from rake, plough and wheles,

Then moste they it trouble with burthen of their heles:

Faustus.

To Bacchus they banket, no feast is festiuall,They chide and they chat, they vary and they brall,They rayle and they route, they reuell and they crye,Laughing and leaping, and making cuppes drye.What, stint thou thy chat, these wordes I defye,It is to a vilayne rebuke and vilany.Such rurall solace so plainly for to blame,Thy wordes sound to thy rebuke and shame."

To Bacchus they banket, no feast is festiuall,

They chide and they chat, they vary and they brall,

They rayle and they route, they reuell and they crye,

Laughing and leaping, and making cuppes drye.

What, stint thou thy chat, these wordes I defye,

It is to a vilayne rebuke and vilany.

Such rurall solace so plainly for to blame,

Thy wordes sound to thy rebuke and shame."

Football is described in a lively picture:—

"They get the bladder and blowe it great and thin,With many beanes or peason put within,It ratleth, soundeth, and shineth clere and fayre,While it is throwen and caste vp in the ayre,Eche one contendeth and hath a great delite,With foote and with hande the bladder for to smite,If it fall to grounde they lifte it vp agayne,This wise to labour they count it for no payne,Renning and leaping they driue away the colde,The sturdie plowmen lustie, stronge and bolde,Ouercommeth the winter with driuing the foote ball,Forgetting labour and many a greuous fall."

"They get the bladder and blowe it great and thin,

With many beanes or peason put within,

It ratleth, soundeth, and shineth clere and fayre,

While it is throwen and caste vp in the ayre,

Eche one contendeth and hath a great delite,

With foote and with hande the bladder for to smite,

If it fall to grounde they lifte it vp agayne,

This wise to labour they count it for no payne,

Renning and leaping they driue away the colde,

The sturdie plowmen lustie, stronge and bolde,

Ouercommeth the winter with driuing the foote ball,

Forgetting labour and many a greuous fall."

A shepherd, after mentioning his skill in shooting birds with a bow, says:—

"No shepheard throweth the axeltrie so farre."

A gallant is thus described:—

"For women vse to loue them moste of all,Which boldly bosteth, or that can sing and iet,Which are well decked with large bushes set,Which hath the mastery ofte time in tournament,Or that can gambauld, or daunce feat and gent."

"For women vse to loue them moste of all,

Which boldly bosteth, or that can sing and iet,

Which are well decked with large bushes set,

Which hath the mastery ofte time in tournament,

Or that can gambauld, or daunce feat and gent."

The following sorts of wine are mentioned:—

"As Muscadell, Caprike, Romney, and Maluesy,From Gene brought, from Grece or Hungary."

"As Muscadell, Caprike, Romney, and Maluesy,

From Gene brought, from Grece or Hungary."

As are the dainties of the table. A shepherd at court must not think to eat,

"Swanne, nor heron,Curlewe, nor crane, but course beefe and mutton."

"Swanne, nor heron,

Curlewe, nor crane, but course beefe and mutton."

Again:

"What fishe is of sauor swete and delicious,—Rosted or sodden in swete hearbes or wine;Or fried in oyle, most saporous and fine.—The pasties of a hart.—The crane, the fesant, the pecocke and curlewe,The partriche, plouer, bittor, and heronsewe—Seasoned so well in licour redolent,That the hall is full of pleasaunt smell and sent."

"What fishe is of sauor swete and delicious,—

Rosted or sodden in swete hearbes or wine;

Or fried in oyle, most saporous and fine.—

The pasties of a hart.—

The crane, the fesant, the pecocke and curlewe,

The partriche, plouer, bittor, and heronsewe—

Seasoned so well in licour redolent,

That the hall is full of pleasaunt smell and sent."

At a feast at court:—

"Slowe be the seruers in seruing in alway,But swift be they after, taking thy meate away;A speciall custome is vsed them among,No good dish to suffer on borde to be longe:If the dishe be pleasaunt, eyther fleshe or fishe,Ten handes at once swarme in the dishe:And if it be flesh ten kniues shalt thou seeMangling the flesh, and in the platter flee:To put there thy handes is perill without fayle,Without a gauntlet or els a gloue of mayle."

"Slowe be the seruers in seruing in alway,

But swift be they after, taking thy meate away;

A speciall custome is vsed them among,

No good dish to suffer on borde to be longe:

If the dishe be pleasaunt, eyther fleshe or fishe,

Ten handes at once swarme in the dishe:

And if it be flesh ten kniues shalt thou see

Mangling the flesh, and in the platter flee:

To put there thy handes is perill without fayle,

Without a gauntlet or els a gloue of mayle."

"The two last lines remind us of a saying of Quin, who declared it was not safe to sit down to a turtle-feast in one of the city-halls, without a basket-hilted knife and fork. Not that I suppose Quin borrowed his bon-mots from black letter books." (Warton.)

The following lines point out some of the festive tales of our ancestors:—

"Yet would I gladly heare some mery fitOf mayde Marion, or els of Robin hood;Or Bentleyes ale which chafeth well the bloud,Of perre of Norwich, or sauce of Wilberton,Or buckishe Joly well-stuffed as a ton."

"Yet would I gladly heare some mery fit

Of mayde Marion, or els of Robin hood;

Or Bentleyes ale which chafeth well the bloud,

Of perre of Norwich, or sauce of Wilberton,

Or buckishe Joly well-stuffed as a ton."

He again mentions "Bentley's Ale" which "maketh me to winke;" and some of our ancient domestic pastimes and amusements are recorded:—

"Then is it pleasure the yonge maydens amongeTo watche by the fire the winters nightes long:At their fonde tales to laugh, or when they brallGreat fire and candell spending for laboure small,And in the ashes some playes for to marke,To couer wardens [pears] for fault of other warke:To toste white sheuers, and to make prophitroles;And after talking oft time to fill the bowles."

"Then is it pleasure the yonge maydens amonge

To watche by the fire the winters nightes long:

At their fonde tales to laugh, or when they brall

Great fire and candell spending for laboure small,

And in the ashes some playes for to marke,

To couer wardens [pears] for fault of other warke:

To toste white sheuers, and to make prophitroles;

And after talking oft time to fill the bowles."

He mentions some musical instruments:

" . . . . Methinkes no mirth is scant,Where no reioysing of minstrelcie doth want:The bagpipe or fidle to vs is delectable."

" . . . . Methinkes no mirth is scant,

Where no reioysing of minstrelcie doth want:

The bagpipe or fidle to vs is delectable."

And the mercantile commodities of different countries and cities:—

"Englande hath cloth, Burdeus hath store of wine,Cornewall hath tinne, and Lymster wools fine.London hath scarlet, and Bristowe pleasaunt red,Fen lands hath fishes, in other place is lead."

"Englande hath cloth, Burdeus hath store of wine,

Cornewall hath tinne, and Lymster wools fine.

London hath scarlet, and Bristowe pleasaunt red,

Fen lands hath fishes, in other place is lead."

Of songs at feasts:—

"When your fat dishes smoke hote vpon your table,Then layde ye songes and balades magnifie,If they be mery, or written craftely,Ye clappe your handes and to the making harke,And one say to other, lo here a proper warke."

"When your fat dishes smoke hote vpon your table,

Then layde ye songes and balades magnifie,

If they be mery, or written craftely,

Ye clappe your handes and to the making harke,

And one say to other, lo here a proper warke."

He says that minstrels and singers are highly favoured at court, especially those of the French gise. Also jugglers and pipers.

The personal references throughout the Eclogues, in addition to those already mentioned, though not numerous, are of considerable interest. The learned Alcock, Bishop of Ely (1486-1500), and the munificent founder of Jesus College, Cambridge, stands deservedly high in the esteem of a poet and priest, so zealous of good works as Barclay. The poet's humour thus disguises him.—(Eclogue I., A iii., recto.):—

"Yes since his dayes a cocke was in the fen,I knowe his voyce among a thousande men:He taught, he preached, he mended euery wrong;But, Coridon alas no good thing bideth long.He all was a cocke, he wakened vs from slepe,And while we slumbred, he did our foldes hepe.No cur, no foxes, nor butchers dogges wood,Coulde hurte our fouldes, his watching was so good.The hungry wolues, which that time did abounde,What time he crowed, abashed at the sounde.This cocke was no more abashed of the foxe,Than is a lion abashed of an oxe.When he went, faded the floure of all the fen;I boldly dare sweare this cocke neuer trode hen!This was a father of thinges pastorall,And that well sheweth his Church cathedrall,There was I lately about the middest of May,Coridon his Church is twenty sith more gayThen all the Churches betwene the same and Kent,There sawe I his tome and Chapell excellent.I thought fiue houres but euen a little while,Saint John the virgin me thought did on me smile,Our parishe Church is but a dongeon,To that gay Churche in comparison.If the people were as pleasaunt as the placeThen were it paradice of pleasour and solace,Then might I truely right well finde in my heart.There still to abide and neuer to departe,But since that this cocke by death hath left his song,Trust me Coridon there many a thing is wrong,When I sawe his figure lye in the Chapell-side,Like death for weping I might no longer bide.Lo all good thinges so sone away doth glide,That no man liketh to long doth rest and abide.When the good is gone (my mate this is the case)Seldome the better reentreth in the place."

"Yes since his dayes a cocke was in the fen,

I knowe his voyce among a thousande men:

He taught, he preached, he mended euery wrong;

But, Coridon alas no good thing bideth long.

He all was a cocke, he wakened vs from slepe,

And while we slumbred, he did our foldes hepe.

No cur, no foxes, nor butchers dogges wood,

Coulde hurte our fouldes, his watching was so good.

The hungry wolues, which that time did abounde,

What time he crowed, abashed at the sounde.

This cocke was no more abashed of the foxe,

Than is a lion abashed of an oxe.

When he went, faded the floure of all the fen;

I boldly dare sweare this cocke neuer trode hen!

This was a father of thinges pastorall,

And that well sheweth his Church cathedrall,

There was I lately about the middest of May,

Coridon his Church is twenty sith more gay

Then all the Churches betwene the same and Kent,

There sawe I his tome and Chapell excellent.

I thought fiue houres but euen a little while,

Saint John the virgin me thought did on me smile,

Our parishe Church is but a dongeon,

To that gay Churche in comparison.

If the people were as pleasaunt as the place

Then were it paradice of pleasour and solace,

Then might I truely right well finde in my heart.

There still to abide and neuer to departe,

But since that this cocke by death hath left his song,

Trust me Coridon there many a thing is wrong,

When I sawe his figure lye in the Chapell-side,

Like death for weping I might no longer bide.

Lo all good thinges so sone away doth glide,

That no man liketh to long doth rest and abide.

When the good is gone (my mate this is the case)

Seldome the better reentreth in the place."

The excellence of his subject carries the poet quite beyond himself in describing the general lamentation at the death of this worthy prelate; with an unusual power of imagination he thus pictures the sympathy of the towers, arches, vaults and images of Ely monastery:

"My harte sore mourneth when I must specifyOf the gentle cocke whiche sange so mirily,He and his flocke wer like an unionConioyned in one without discention,All the fayre cockes which in his dayes creweWhen death him touched did his departing rewe.The pretie palace by him made in the fen,The maides, widowes, the wiues, and the men,With deadly dolour were pearsed to the heart,When death constrayned this shepheard to departe.Corne, grasse, and fieldes, mourned for wo and payne,For oft his prayer for them obtayned rayne.The pleasaunt floures for wo faded eche one,When they perceyued this shepheard dead and gone,The okes, elmes, and euery sorte of dereShronke vnder shadowes, abating all their chere.The mightie walles of Ely Monastery,The stones, rockes, and towres semblably,The marble pillers and images echeone,Swet all for sorowe, when this good cocke was gone,Though he of stature were humble, weake and leane,His minde was hye, his liuing pure and cleane,Where other feedeth by beastly appetite,On heauenly foode was all his whole delite."

"My harte sore mourneth when I must specify

Of the gentle cocke whiche sange so mirily,

He and his flocke wer like an union

Conioyned in one without discention,

All the fayre cockes which in his dayes crewe

When death him touched did his departing rewe.

The pretie palace by him made in the fen,

The maides, widowes, the wiues, and the men,

With deadly dolour were pearsed to the heart,

When death constrayned this shepheard to departe.

Corne, grasse, and fieldes, mourned for wo and payne,

For oft his prayer for them obtayned rayne.

The pleasaunt floures for wo faded eche one,

When they perceyued this shepheard dead and gone,

The okes, elmes, and euery sorte of dere

Shronke vnder shadowes, abating all their chere.

The mightie walles of Ely Monastery,

The stones, rockes, and towres semblably,

The marble pillers and images echeone,

Swet all for sorowe, when this good cocke was gone,

Though he of stature were humble, weake and leane,

His minde was hye, his liuing pure and cleane,

Where other feedeth by beastly appetite,

On heauenly foode was all his whole delite."

Morton, Alcock's predecessor and afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury (1486-1500), is also singled out for compliment, in which allusion is made to his troubles, his servants' faithfulness, and his restoration to favour under Richard III. and Henry VII. (Eclogue III.):—

"And shepheard Morton, when he durst not appeare,Howe his olde seruauntes were carefull of his chere;In payne and pleasour they kept fidelitieTill grace agayne gaue him aucthoritieThen his olde fauour did them agayne restoreTo greater pleasour then they had payne before.Though for a season this shepheard bode a blast,The greatest winde yet slaketh at the last,And at conclusion he and his flocke certayneEche true to other did quietly remayne."

"And shepheard Morton, when he durst not appeare,

Howe his olde seruauntes were carefull of his chere;

In payne and pleasour they kept fidelitie

Till grace agayne gaue him aucthoritie

Then his olde fauour did them agayne restore

To greater pleasour then they had payne before.

Though for a season this shepheard bode a blast,

The greatest winde yet slaketh at the last,

And at conclusion he and his flocke certayne

Eche true to other did quietly remayne."

And again in Eclogue IV.:—

"Micene and Morton be dead and gone certayne."

The "Dean of Powles" (Colet), with whom Barclay seems to have been personally acquainted, and to whom the reference alludes as to one still living (his death occurred in 1519), is celebrated as a preacher in the same Eclogue:—

"For this I learned of the Dean of PowlesI tell thee, Codrus this man hath won some soules."

"For this I learned of the Dean of Powles

I tell thee, Codrus this man hath won some soules."

as is "the olde friar that wonned in Greenwich" in Eclogue V.

The first three Eclogues are paraphrases or adaptations from the Miseriæ Curialium, the most popular of the works of one of the most successful literary adventurers of the middle ages, Æneas Sylvius (Pope Pius II., who died in 1464). It appears to have been written with the view of relieving his feelings of disappointment and disgust at his reception at the court of the Emperor, whither he had repaired, in the hope of political advancement. The tone and nature of the work may be gathered from this candid exposure of the adventurer's morale: "Many things there are which compel us to persevere, but nothing more powerfully than ambition which, rivalling charity, truly beareth all things however grievous, that it may attain to the honours of this world and the praise of men. If we were humble and laboured to gain our own souls rather than hunt after vain glory, few of us, indeed, would endure such annoyances." He details, with querulous humour, all the grievances of his position, from the ingratitude of the prince to the sordour of the table-cloths, and the hardness of the black bread. But hardest of all to bear is the contempt shown towards literature. "In the courts of princes literary knowledge is held a crime; and great is the grief of men of letters when they find themselves universally despised, and see the most important matters managed, not to say mismanaged, by blockheads, who cannot tell the number of their fingers and toes."

Barclay's adaptation is so thoroughly Englished, and contains such large additions from the stores of his own bitter experience, as to make it even more truly his own than any other of his translations.

The fourth and fifth eclogues are imitations,—though no notice that they are so is conveyed in the title, as in the case of the first three,—of the fifth and sixth of the popular eclogue writer of the time, Jo. Baptist Mantuan, which may have helped to give rise to the generally received statement noticed below, that all the eclogues are imitations of that author. The fourth is entitled "Codrus and Minalcas, treating of the behauour of Riche men agaynst Poetes," and it may be judged how far it is Barclay's from the fact that it numbers about twelve hundred lines, including the elegy of the Noble Howard, while the original, entitled, "De consuetudine Divitum erga Poetas," contains only about two hundred. The fifth is entitled "Amintas and Faustus, of the disputation of citizens and men of the countrey." It contains over a thousand lines, and the original, "De disceptatione rusticorum et civium," like the fifth, extends to little more than two hundred.

In the Prologue before mentioned we are told (Cawood's edition):—

"That fiue Egloges this whole treatise doth holdeTo imitation of other Poetes olde,"

"That fiue Egloges this whole treatise doth holde

To imitation of other Poetes olde,"

Which appears to be a correction of the printer's upon the original, as in Powell's edition:—

"That X. egloges this hole treatyse dothe holde."

Whether other five were ever published there is no record to show; it appears, however, highly improbable, that, if they had, they could have been entirely lost,—especially considering the popularity and repeated issue of the first five,—during the few years that would have elapsed between their original publication and the appearance of Cawood's edition. Possibly the original reading may be a typographical blunder, for Cawood is extremely sparing of correction, and appears to have made none which he did not consider absolutely necessary. This is one of the literary puzzles which remain for bibliography to solve. (See below, p. lxxix.)

The next of Barclay's works in point of date, and perhaps the only one actually entitled to the merit of originality, is his Introductory to write and pronounce French, compiled at the request of his great patron, Thomas Duke of Norfolk, and printed by Copland in 1521. It is thus alluded to in the first important authority on French grammar, "Lesclarissement de la langue Francoyse compose par maistre Jehan Palsgraue, Angloys, natyf de Londres," 1530: "The right vertuous and excellent prince Thomas, late Duke of Northfolke, hath commanded the studious clerke, Alexandre Barkelay, to embusy hymselfe about this exercyse." Further on he is not so complimentary as he remarks:—"Where as there is a boke, that goeth about in this realme, intitled The introductory to writte and pronounce frenche, compiled by Alexander Barcley, in which k is moche vsed, and many other thynges also by hym affirmed, contrary to my sayenges in this boke, and specially in my seconde, where I shall assaye to expresse the declinations and coniugatynges with the other congruites obserued in the frenche tonge, I suppose it sufficient to warne the lernar, that I haue red ouer that boke at length: and what myn opinion is therin, it shall well inough apere in my bokes selfe, though I make therof no ferther expresse mencion: saue that I haue sene an olde boke written in parchement, in maner in all thynkes like to his sayd Introductory: whiche, by coniecture, was not vnwritten this hundred yeres. I wot nat if he happened to fortune upon suche an other: for whan it was commaunded that the grammar maisters shulde teche the youth of Englande ioyntly latin with frenche, there were diuerse suche bokes diuysed: wherupon, as I suppose, began one great occasyon why we of England sounde the latyn tong so corruptly, whiche haue as good a tonge to sounde all maner speches parfitely as any other nacyon in Europa."—Book I. ch. xxxv. "According to this," Mr Ellis (Early English Pronunciation, 804) pertinently notes: "1º, there ought to be many old MS. treatises on French grammar; and 2º, the English pronunciation of Latin was moulded on the French."

To Barclay, as nine years before Palsgrave, belongs at least the credit, hitherto generally unrecognised, of the first published attempt at a French grammar, by either Frenchman or foreigner.

"The mirror of good manners, containing the four cardinal vertues," appeared from the press of Pynson, without date, "which boke," says the typographer, "I haue prynted at the instance and request of the ryght noble Rychard Yerle of Kent." This earl of Kent died in 1523, and as Barclay speaks of himself in the preface as advanced in age, the date of publication may be assigned to close upon that year. It is a translation, in the ballad stanza, of the Latin elegiac poem of Dominicus Mancinus,De quatuor virtutibus, first published in 1516, and, as appears from the title, was executed while Barclay was a monk of Ely, at "the desire of the righte worshipfull Syr Giles Alington, Knight." From the address to his patron it would seem that the Knight had requested the poet to abridge or modernise Gower's Confessio amantis. For declining this task he pleads, that he is too old to undertake such a light subject, and also the sacred nature of his profession. He then intimates his choice of the present more grave and serious work instead—

Which a priest may write, not hurting his estate,Nor of honest name obumbring at all his light.

Which a priest may write, not hurting his estate,

Nor of honest name obumbring at all his light.

"But the poet," says Warton, "declined this undertaking as unsuitable to his age, infirmities, and profession, and chose rather to oblige his patron with a grave system of ethics. It is certain that he made a prudent choice. The performance shows how little qualified he was to correct Gower." Instead of a carping criticism like this, it would have been much more to the point to praise the modesty and sensibility of an author, who had the courage to decline a task unsuited to his tastes or powers.

He professes little:—

This playne litle treatise in stile compendious,Much briefly conteyneth four vertues cardinall,In right pleasaunt processe, plaine and commodious,With light foote of metre, and stile heroicall,Rude people to infourme in language maternall,To whose vnderstanding maydens of tender age,And rude litle children shall finde easy passage.

This playne litle treatise in stile compendious,

Much briefly conteyneth four vertues cardinall,

In right pleasaunt processe, plaine and commodious,

With light foote of metre, and stile heroicall,

Rude people to infourme in language maternall,

To whose vnderstanding maydens of tender age,

And rude litle children shall finde easy passage.

Two editions of the work are sufficient evidence that this humble and praiseworthy purpose was, in the eyes of his contemporaries, successfully carried out.

The only remaining authentic production of Barclay which has come down to us, is a translation of the Jugurthine War of Sallust, undertaken at the request of, and dedicated to, his great patron, Thomas Duke of Norfolk, and printed also at Pynson's press without date. The Latin and English are printed side by side on the same page, the former being dedicated, with the date "Ex cellula Hatfeldenregii (i.e., King's Hatfield, Hertfordshire) in Idus Novembris" to Vesey, the centenarian Bishop of Exeter, with this superscription:—"Reueredissimo in Christo patri ac dno: dnoJoanni Veysy exonien episcopo Alexander Barclay presbyter debita cum obseruantia. S." The dedication begins, "Memini me superioribus annis cuadhuc sacelli regij presul esses: pastor vigilantissime: tuis suasionibus incitatu: vt Crispi Salustij hystoria—e romana lingua: in anglicam compendiose transferrem," &c. Vesey was probably one of Barclay's oldest west country friends; for he is recorded to have been connected with the diocese of Exeter from 1503 to 1551, in the various capacities of archdeacon, precentor, dean, and bishop successively. Conjecture has placed the date of this publication at 1511, but as Veysey did not succeed to the Bishopric of Exeter till August 1519, this is untenable. We cannot say more than that it must have been published between 1519 and 1524, the date of the Duke of Norfolk's death, probably in the former year, since, from its being dated from "Hatfield," the ancient palace of the bishops of Ely, (sold to the Crown in the 30th of Henry VIII.; Clutterbuck's Hertfordshire, II.) Barclay at the time of its completion was evidently still a monk of Ely.

By his translation of Sallust (so popular an author at that period, that the learned virgin queen is reported to have amused her leisure with an English version), Barclay obtained the distinction of being the first to introduce that classic to English readers. His version bears the reputation of being executed not only with accuracy, but with considerable freedom and elegance, and its popularity was evinced by its appearance in three additions.

Two other works of our author are spoken of as having been in print, but they have apparently passed entirely out of sight: "The figure of our holy mother Church, oppressed by the Frenche King," (Pynson, 4to), known only from Maunsell's Catalogue; and "The lyfe of the glorious martyr, saynt George translated (from Mantuan) by Alexander Barclay, while he was a monk of Ely, and dedicated to N. West, Bishop of Ely," (Pynson, 4to), (Herbert, Typ. Antiquities.) West was Bishop of Ely from 1515 to 1533, and consequently Barclay's superior during probably his whole stay there. Whether these two works were in verse or prose is unknown.

There are two other books ascribed to Barclay, but nothing satisfactory can be stated regarding their parentage except that, considering their subject, and the press they issued from, it is not at all unlikely that they may have been the fruit of his prolific pen. The first is "The lyfe of the blessed martyr, Saynte Thomas," in prose, printed by Pynson, (Herbert, Typ. Ant. 292), regarding which Ant. Wood says, "I should feel little difficulty in ascribing this to Barclay." The other is the English translation of the Histoire merveilleuse du Grand Khan (in Latin, De Tartaris siue Liber historiarum partium Orientis) of the eastern soldier, and western monk, Haytho, prince of Georgia at the end of the 13th, and beginning of the 14th centuries. The History which gives an account of Genghis Khan, and his successors, with a short description of the different kingdoms of Asia, was very popular in the 15th and 16th centuries, as one of the earliest accounts of the East, and the conjecture of the Grenville Catalogue is not improbable, though there is no sufficient evidence, that Barclay was the author of the English version which appeared from the press of Pynson.

Bale further enumerates in his list of Barclay's works "Contra Skeltonum, Lib. I.; Quinq: eglogas ex Mantuano, Lib. I; Vitam D. Catherinæ, Lib. I., [Libros tres, Pits]; Vitam D. Margaritæ, Lib. I.; Vitam Etheldredæ, Lib. I.; Aliaq: plura fecit." Tanner adds: "Orationes varias, Lib. I.; De fide orthodoxa, Lib. I."

Of these various fruits of Barclay's fertility and industry no fragment has survived to our day, nor has even any positive information regarding their nature been transmitted to us.

The "Orationes varias," probably a collection of sermons with especial reference to the sins of the day would have been historically, if not otherwise, interesting, and their loss is matter for regret. On the other hand the want of the treatise, "De fide orthodoxa," is doubtless a relief to literature. There are too many of the kind already to encumber our shelves and our catalogues.

The Lives of the Saints, the work, it is stated, of the author's old age, were, according to Tanner, and he is no doubt right, translations from the Latin. Barclay's reputation probably does not suffer from their loss.

"Quinque eglogas ex Mantuano," though Bale mentions also "De miserijs aulicorum; Bucolicam Codri; Eglogam quartam," apparently the five, but really the first four of the eclogues known to us, are, I am strongly inclined to believe, nothing else than these same five eclogues, under, to use a bibliographical phrase, "a made up" title. That he mentions first, five from Mantuan, and afterwards adds "Bucolicam Codri" and "Eglogam quartam," as two distinct eclogues, apparently not from Mantuan, while both titles must refer to the same poem, an imitation of Mantuan's fifth eclogue, is proof enough that he was not speaking with the authority of personal knowledge of these works.

Johannes Baptista Spagnuoli, commonly called from his native city, Mantuan, was the most popular and prolific eclogue writer of the fifteenth century, to which Barclay himself testifies:—

"As the moste famous Baptist MantuanThe best of that sort since Poetes first began."

"As the moste famous Baptist Mantuan

The best of that sort since Poetes first began."

Barclay's Eclogues being the first attempts of the kind in English, Bale's "Ex Mantuano," therefore probably means nothing more than "on the model of Mantuan;" otherwise, if it be assumed that five were the whole number that ever appeared, it could not apply to the first three, which are expressly stated in the title to be from Æneas Sylvius, while if ten be assumed, his statement would account for nine, the "quinque eglogas" being the five now wanting, but if so, then he has omitted to mention the most popular of all the eclogues, the fifth, and has failed to attribute to Mantuan two which are undoubtedly due to him.

The loss of the "Contra Skeltonum," is a matter for regret. That there was no love lost between these two contemporaries and chief poets of their time is evident enough. Skelton's scathing sarcasm against the priesthood no doubt woke his brother satirist's ire, and the latter lets no opportunity slip of launching forth his contempt for the laureate of Oxford.

The moralist in announcing the position he assumes in opposition to the writer of popular tales, takes care to have a fling at the author of "The boke of Phyllyp Sparowe":—

"I wryte no Ieste ne tale of Robyn Hode,Nor sawe no sparcles, ne sede of vyciousnes;Wyse men loue vertue, wylde people wantones,It longeth nat to my scyence nor cunnynge,For Phylyp the sparowe the (Dirige) to synge."

"I wryte no Ieste ne tale of Robyn Hode,

Nor sawe no sparcles, ne sede of vyciousnes;

Wyse men loue vertue, wylde people wantones,

It longeth nat to my scyence nor cunnynge,

For Phylyp the sparowe the (Dirige) to synge."

A sneer to which Skelton most probably alludes when, enumerating his own productions in the Garlande of Laurell, he mentions,

"Of Phillip Sparow the lamentable fate,The dolefull desteny, and the carefull chaunce,Dyuysed by Skelton after the funerall rate;Yet sum there be therewith that take greuaunce,And grudge thereat with frownyng countenaunce;But what of that? harde it is to please all men;Who list amende it, let hym set to his penne."

"Of Phillip Sparow the lamentable fate,

The dolefull desteny, and the carefull chaunce,

Dyuysed by Skelton after the funerall rate;

Yet sum there be therewith that take greuaunce,

And grudge thereat with frownyng countenaunce;

But what of that? harde it is to please all men;

Who list amende it, let hym set to his penne."

The following onslaught in Barclay's Fourth Eclogue, is evidently levelled at the abominable Skelton:

"Another thing yet is greatly more damnable:Of rascolde poetes yet is a shamfull rable,Which voyde of wisedome presumeth to indite,Though they haue scantly the cunning of a snite;And to what vices that princes moste intende,Those dare these fooles solemnize and commendeThen is he decked as Poete laureate,When stinking Thais made him her graduate;When Muses rested, she did her season note,And she with Bacchus her camous did promote.Such rascolde drames, promoted by Thais,Bacchus, Licoris, or yet by Testalis,Or by suche other newe forged Muses nine,Thinke in their mindes for to haue wit diuine;They laude their verses, they boast, they vaunt and iet,Though all their cunning be scantly worth a pet:If they haue smelled the artes triuiall,They count them Poetes hye and heroicall.Such is their foly, so foolishly they dote,Thinking that none can their playne errour note;Yet be they foolishe, auoyde of honestie,Nothing seasoned with spice of grauitie,Auoyde of pleasure, auoyde of eloquence,With many wordes, and fruitlesse of sentence;Unapt to learne, disdayning to be taught,Their priuate pleasure in snare hath them so caught;And worst yet of all, they count them excellent,Though they be fruitlesse, rashe and improuident.To such ambages who doth their minde incline,They count all other as priuate of doctrine,And that the faultes which be in them alone,And be common in other men eche one.Thus bide good poetes oft time rebuke and blame,Because of other which haue despised name.And thus for the bad the good be cleane abject.Their art and poeme counted of none effect,Who wanteth reason good to discerne from illDoth worthy writers interprete at his will:So both the laudes of good and not laudableFor lacke of knowledge become vituperable."

"Another thing yet is greatly more damnable:

Of rascolde poetes yet is a shamfull rable,

Which voyde of wisedome presumeth to indite,

Though they haue scantly the cunning of a snite;

And to what vices that princes moste intende,

Those dare these fooles solemnize and commende

Then is he decked as Poete laureate,

When stinking Thais made him her graduate;

When Muses rested, she did her season note,

And she with Bacchus her camous did promote.

Such rascolde drames, promoted by Thais,

Bacchus, Licoris, or yet by Testalis,

Or by suche other newe forged Muses nine,

Thinke in their mindes for to haue wit diuine;

They laude their verses, they boast, they vaunt and iet,

Though all their cunning be scantly worth a pet:

If they haue smelled the artes triuiall,

They count them Poetes hye and heroicall.

Such is their foly, so foolishly they dote,

Thinking that none can their playne errour note;

Yet be they foolishe, auoyde of honestie,

Nothing seasoned with spice of grauitie,

Auoyde of pleasure, auoyde of eloquence,

With many wordes, and fruitlesse of sentence;

Unapt to learne, disdayning to be taught,

Their priuate pleasure in snare hath them so caught;

And worst yet of all, they count them excellent,

Though they be fruitlesse, rashe and improuident.

To such ambages who doth their minde incline,

They count all other as priuate of doctrine,

And that the faultes which be in them alone,

And be common in other men eche one.

Thus bide good poetes oft time rebuke and blame,

Because of other which haue despised name.

And thus for the bad the good be cleane abject.

Their art and poeme counted of none effect,

Who wanteth reason good to discerne from ill

Doth worthy writers interprete at his will:

So both the laudes of good and not laudable

For lacke of knowledge become vituperable."

It has not hitherto been pointed out that Skelton did not disdain to borrow a leaf from the enemy's book and try his hand at paraphrasing the Ship of Fools also. "The Boke of three fooles, M. Skelton, poete laureate, gaue to my lord Cardynall," is a paraphrase in prose, with introductory verses, of three chapters of Brandt, corresponding to Barclay's chapters headed, Of yonge folys that take olde wymeto theyr wyues nat for loue but for ryches (I. 247); Of enuyous folys (I. 252); Of bodely lust or corporall voluptuosyte (I. 239). Skelton's three fools, are, "The man that doth wed a wyfe for her goodes and her rychesse;" "Of Enuye, the seconde foole"; and, "Of the Voluptuousnes corporall, the third foole;" and his versions are dashed off with his usual racy vigour. He probably, however, did not think it worth while to compete with the established favourite. If he had we would certainly have got a very different book from Barclay's.

Notwithstanding his popularity and industry, Barclay's name appears to be but seldom mentioned by contemporary or later authors. As early as 1521 however, we find him placed in the most honourable company by Henry Bradshaw, "Lyfe of Saynt Werburghe," (1521, Pynson, 4to). But the compliment would probably lose half its sweetness from his being bracketed with the detested Skelton:—

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