BALADES.

‘Dont un me disoit l’autre jour,’

‘Dont un me disoit l’autre jour,’

‘Dont un me disoit l’autre jour,’

‘Dont un me disoit l’autre jour,’

to the effect that he was a fool who did not make money if he might, for no one knew the truth about the world to come (25915 ff.). He feels strongly against a certain bad citizen who aims at giving privileges in trade to outsiders (26380 ff.), and the jealousy of the Lombards which he expresses (25429 ff.) has every appearance of being a prejudice connected with rivalry in commerce. ‘I see Lombards come,’ he says, ‘in poor attire as servants, and before a year has passed they have gained so much by deceit and conspiracy that they dress more nobly than the burgesses of our City; and if they need influence or friendship, they gain it by fraud and subtlety, so that their interests are promoted and ours are damaged at their will and pleasure.’

If we are to go further and ask in what branch of trade our author exercised himself, it is probable that we may see reason to set him down as a dealer in wool, so enthusiastic is he about wool as the first of all commodities, and so much has he to say about the abuses of the staple (25360 ff.). Nodoubt the business of exporting wool would be combined with that of importing foreign manufactured goods of some kind. It is known from other sources that Gower was a man who gradually acquired considerable property in land, and the references in theMirourto the dearness of labour and the unreasonable demands of the labourer (24625 ff.) are what we might expect from a man in that position.

He tells us that he is a man of simple tastes, that he does not care to have ‘partridges, pheasants, plovers, and swans’ served up at his table (26293 ff.); that he objects however to finding his simple joint of meat stuck full of wooden skewers by the butcher, so that when he comes to carve it he blunts the edge of his knife (26237 ff.). We know moreover from the whole tone of his writings that he is a just and upright man, who believes in the due subordination of the various members of society to one another, and who will not allow himself to be ruled in his own household either by his wife or his servants. He thinks indeed that the patience of Socrates is much overstrained, and openly declares that he shall not imitate it:

‘Qui ceste essample voet tenirAvise soy; car sans mentirJe ne serray si pacient.’ (4186 ff.)

‘Qui ceste essample voet tenirAvise soy; car sans mentirJe ne serray si pacient.’ (4186 ff.)

‘Qui ceste essample voet tenirAvise soy; car sans mentirJe ne serray si pacient.’ (4186 ff.)

‘Qui ceste essample voet tenir

Avise soy; car sans mentir

Je ne serray si pacient.’ (4186 ff.)

But, though a thorough believer in the principle of gradation in human society, he emphasizes constantly the equality of all men before God and refuses absolutely to admit the accident of birth as constituting any claim whatever to ‘gentilesce.’ The common descent of all from Adam is as conclusive on this point for him as it was for John Ball (23389 ff.), and he is not less clear and sound on the subject of wealth. Considering that his views of society are essentially the same as those of Wycliff, and considering also his strong views about the corruption of the Church and the misdeeds of the friars, it is curious to find how strongly he denounces ‘lollardie’ in his later writings.

He has a just abhorrence of war, and draws a very clear-sighted distinction between the debased chivalry of his day and the true ideal of knighthood, the one moved only by impulses of vainglorious pride and love of paramours,

‘Car d’orguil ou du foldelit,Au jour present, sicomme l’en dist,Chivalerie est maintenue.’ (23986 ff.)

‘Car d’orguil ou du foldelit,Au jour present, sicomme l’en dist,Chivalerie est maintenue.’ (23986 ff.)

‘Car d’orguil ou du foldelit,Au jour present, sicomme l’en dist,Chivalerie est maintenue.’ (23986 ff.)

‘Car d’orguil ou du foldelit,

Au jour present, sicomme l’en dist,

Chivalerie est maintenue.’ (23986 ff.)

and the other, set only on serving God and righting the wrong, represented finely in the character of Prowess:

‘Il ad delit sanz fol amour,Proufit sanz tricher son prochein,Honour sanz orguillous atour.’ (15176 ff.)

‘Il ad delit sanz fol amour,Proufit sanz tricher son prochein,Honour sanz orguillous atour.’ (15176 ff.)

‘Il ad delit sanz fol amour,Proufit sanz tricher son prochein,Honour sanz orguillous atour.’ (15176 ff.)

‘Il ad delit sanz fol amour,

Proufit sanz tricher son prochein,

Honour sanz orguillous atour.’ (15176 ff.)

Above all, our author has a deep sense of religion, and his study has been much upon the Bible. He deeply believes in the moral government of the world by Providence, and he feels sure, as others of his age also did, that the world has almost reached its final stage of corruption. Whatever others may do, he at least intends to repent of his sins and prepare himself to render a good account of his stewardship.

Let us pass now from the person of the author and touch upon some of those illustrations of the manners of the time which are furnished by theMirour. In the first place it may be said that in certain points, and especially in what is said of the Court of Rome and the Mendicant orders, it fully confirms the unfavourable impression which we get from other writers of the time. Gower has no scruples at any time in denouncing the temporal possessions of the Church as the root of almost all the evil in her, and here as elsewhere he tells the story of the donation of Constantine, with the addition of the angelic voice which foretold disaster to spring from it. Of dispensations, which allow men to commit sin with impunity, he takes a very sound view. Not even God, he says, can grant this, which the Pope claims the power to grant (18493). The Mendicant friars are for him those ‘false prophets’ of whom the Gospel spoke, who should come in sheep’s clothing, while inwardly they were ravening wolves. He denounces their worldliness in the strongest language, and the account of their visits to poor women’s houses, taking a farthing if they cannot get a penny, or a single egg if nothing else is forthcoming (21379), reminds us vividly of Chaucer’s picture of a similar scene. But in fact the whole of the Church seems to our author to be in a wrong state. He does not relieve his picture of it by any such pleasing exception as the parish priest of theCanterbury Tales. He thinks that it needs reform from the top to the bottom; the clergy of the parish churches are almost as much to blame as the prelates, monks and friars, and for him it is thecorruption of the Church that is mainly responsible for the decadence of society (21685 ff.). These views he continued to hold throughout his life, and yet he apparently had no sympathy whatever with Lollardism (Conf. Am. Prol.346 ff. and elsewhere). His witness against the Church comes from one who is entirely untainted by schism. Especially he is to be listened to when he complains how the archdeacons and their officers abuse the trust committed to them for the correction of vices in the clergy and in the laity. With the clergy it is a case of ‘huy a moy, demain a vous’—that is, the archdeacon or dean, being immoral himself, winks at the vices of the clergy in order that his own may be overlooked; the clergy, in fact, are judges in their own cause, and they stand or fall together. If, however, an unfortunate layman offends, they accuse him forthwith, in order to profit by the penalties that may be exacted. ‘Purs is the erchedeknes helle,’ as Chaucer’s Sompnour says, and Gower declares plainly that the Church officials encourage vice in order that they may profit by it: ‘the harlot is more profitable to them,’ he says, ‘than the nun, and they let out fornication to farm, as they let their lands’ (20149 ff.).

Setting aside the Church, we may glean from theMiroursome interesting details about general society, especially in the city of London. There is a curious and life-like picture of the gatherings of city dames at the wine-shop, whither with mincing steps they repair instead of to church or to market, and how the vintner offers them the choice of Vernazza and Malvoisie, wine of Candia and Romagna, Provence and Monterosso—not that he has all these, but to tickle their fancies and make them pay a higher price—and draws ten kinds of liquor from a single cask. Thus he makes his gain and they spend their husbands’ money (26077 ff.). We find too a very lively account of the various devices of shopkeepers to attract custom and cheat their customers. The mercer, for example, is louder than a sparrow-hawk in his cries; he seizes on people in the street and drags them by force into his shop, urging them merely to view his kerchiefs and his ostrich feathers, his satins and foreign cloth (25285 ff.). The draper will try to sell you cloth in a dark shop, where you can hardly tell blue from green, and while making you pay double its value will persuade you that he is giving it away because of his regard for you and desirefor your acquaintance (25321 ff.). The goldsmith purloins the gold and silver with which you supply him and puts a base alloy in its place; moreover, if he has made a cup for you and you do not call for it at once, he will probably sell it to the first comer as his own, and tell you that yours was spoilt in the making and you must wait till he can make you another (25513 ff.). The druggist not only makes profit out of sin by selling paints and cosmetics to women, but joins in league with the physician and charges exorbitantly for making up the simplest prescription (25609 ff.). The furrier stretches the fur with which he has to trim the mantle, so that after four days’ wear it is obvious that the cloth and the fur do not match one another (25705 ff.). Every kind of food is adulterated and is sold by false weights and measures. The baker is a scoundrel of course, and richly deserves hanging (26189), but the butcher is also to blame, and especially because he declines altogether to recognize the farthing as current coin and will take nothing less than a penny, so that poor people can get no meat (26227). Wines are mixed, coloured and adulterated; what they call Rhenish probably grew on the banks of the Thames (26118). If you order beer for your household, you get it good the first time and perhaps also the second, but after that no more; and yet for the bad as high a price is charged as for the good (26161 ff.). Merchants in these days talk of thousands, where their fathers talked of scores or hundreds; but their fathers lived honestly and paid their debts, while these defraud all who have dealings with them. When you enter their houses, you see tapestried rooms and curtained chambers, and they have fine plate upon the tables, as if they were dukes; but when they die, they are found to have spent all their substance, and their debts are left unpaid (25813 ff.).

In the country the labourers are discontented and disagreeable. They do less work and demand more pay than those of former times. In old days the labourer never tasted wheaten bread and rarely had milk or cheese. Things went better in those days. Now their condition is a constant danger to society, and one to which the upper classes seem strangely indifferent (26425 ff.).

Curious accounts are given of the customs of the legal profession, and when our author comes to deal with the jury-panel,he tells us of a regularly established class of men whose occupation it is to arrange for the due packing and bribing of juries. He asserts that of the corrupt jurors there are certain captains, who are called ‘tracers’ (traiciers), because they draw (treront) the others to their will. If they say that white is black, the others will say ‘quite so,’ and swear it too, for as the tracer will have it, so it shall be. Those persons who at assizes desire to have corrupt jurymen to try their case must speak with these ‘tracers,’ for all who are willing to sell themselves in this manner are hand and glove with them, and so the matter is arranged (25033 ff.). The existence of a definite name for this class of undertakers seems to indicate that it was really an established institution.

These are a few of the points which may interest the reader in the reflection of the manners of society given by our author’s ‘mirror.’ The whole presents a picture which, though no doubt somewhat overcharged with gloom, is true nevertheless in its outlines.

Text.—It remains to speak of the text of this edition and of the manuscript on which it depends.

In the year 1895, while engaged in searching libraries for MSS. of theConfessio Amantis, I observed to Mr. Jenkinson, Librarian of the Cambridge University Library, that if the lost French work of Gower should ever be discovered, it would in all probability be found to have the titleSpeculum Hominis, and not that ofSpeculum Meditantis, under which it was ordinarily referred to. He at once called my attention to the MS. with the titleMirour de l’omme, which he had lately bought and presented to the University Library. On examining this I was able to identify it beyond all doubt with the missing book.

It may be thus described:

Camb. Univ. Library, MS. Additional 3035, bought at the Hailstone sale, May 1891, and presented to the Library by the Librarian.

Written on parchment, size of leaves about 12” x 7¾”, in eights with catchwords; writing of the latter half of the 14th century, in double column of forty-eight lines to the column; initial letter of each stanza coloured blue or red, and larger illuminated letters at the beginning of the chief divisions, combined with some ornamentation on the left side of the column, and in one case, f. 58 vo, also at the top of the page. One leaf is pasted down to the binding at the beginning and contains the title and table ofcontents. After this four leaves have been cut out, containing the beginning of the poem, and seven more in other parts of the book. There are also some leaves lost at the end. The first leaf after those which have been cut out at the beginning has the signatureaiiii. The leaves (including those cut out) have now been numbered 1, 1*, 2, 3, 4, &c., up to 162; we have therefore a first sheet, of which half is pasted down (f. 1) and the other half cut away (f. 1*), and then twenty quires of eight leaves with the first leaf of the twenty-first quire, the leaves lost being those numbered 1*, 2, 3, 4, 36, 106, 108, 109, 120, 123, 124, as well as those after 162.

The present binding is of the last century and doubtless later than 1745, for some accounts of work done by ‘Richard Eldridge’ and other memoranda, written in the margins in an illiterate hand, have the dates 1740 and 1745 and have been partly cut away by the binder. The book was formerly in the library of Edward Hailstone, Esq., whose name and arms are displayed upon a leather label outside the binding, but it seems that no record exists as to the place from which he obtained it. From the writing in the margin of several pages it would seem that about the year 1745 it was lying neglected in some farm-house. We have, for example, this memorandum (partly cut away) in the margin of one of the leaves: ‘Margat ... leved at James ... in the year of our Lord 1745 and was the dayre maid that year ... and her swithart name was Joshep Cockhad Joshep Cockhad carpenter.’ On the same page occurs the word ‘glosterr,’ which may partly serve to indicate the locality.

The manuscript is written in one hand throughout, with the exception of the Table of Contents, and the writing is clear, with but few contractions. In a few cases, as in ll. 4109, 4116, 28941 f., corrections have been made over erasure. The correctness of the text which the MS. presents is shown by the very small number of cases in which either metre or sense suggests emendation. Apart from the division of words, only about thirty corrections have been made in the present edition throughout the whole poem of nearly thirty thousand lines, and most of these are very trifling. I have little doubt that this copy was written under the direction of the author.

As regards the manner in which the text of the MS. has been reproduced in this edition, I have followed on the whole thesystem used in the publications of the ‘Société des Anciens Textes Français.’ Thusuandv,iandj, have been dealt with in accordance with modern practice, whereas in the MS. (as usual in French and English books of the time)vis regularly written as the initial letter of a word for eitheruorv, anduin other positions (except sometimes in the case of compounds likeavient,avoegler,envers,envie, &c.), while, as regardsiandj, we have for initials eitheriorI(J), and in other positionsi. Thus the MS. hasvn,auoir, while the text gives for the reader’s convenienceun,avoir; the MS. hasieorIe,iourorIour, while the text givesje,jour. Again, where an elision is expressed, the MS. of course combines the two elements into one word, givinglamour,quil,qestoit, while the text separates them by the apostrophe,l’amour,qu’il,q’estoit. Some other separations have also been made. Thus the MS. often, but by no means always, combinespluswith the adjective or adverb to which it belongs:plusbass,plusauant; and often also the wordenis combined with a succeeding verb, asenmangeast,enserroit: in these instances the separation is made in the text, but the MS. reading is recorded. In other cases, as with the combinationssique,sicomme,nounpas,envoie, &c., the usage of the MS. has been followed, though it is not quite uniform.

The final-é(-és) and-ée(-ées) of nouns and participles have been marked with the accent for the reader’s convenience, but in all other cases accents are dispensed with. They are not therefore used in the terminations-ez,-eez, even when standing for-és,-ées, as infestoiez,neez, nor inasses,sachies, &c., standing forassez,sachiez(except l. 28712), nor is the grave accent placed upon the openeofapres,jammes, &c. Occasionally the diaeresis is used to separate vowels; and the cedilla is inserted, as in modern French, to indicate the soft sound ofcwhere this seems certain, but there are some possibly doubtful cases, assufficance,naiscance, in which it is not written.

With regard to the use of capital letters, some attempt has been made to qualify the inconsistency of the MS. In general it may be said that where capitals are introduced, it has been chiefly in order to indicate more clearly the cases where qualities or things are personified. It has not been thought necessary to indicate particularly all these variations.

The punctuation is the work of the editor throughout; that of the MS., where it exists, is of a very uncertain character.

Contractions, &c., are marked in the printed text by italics, except in the case of the wordet, which in the MS. is hardly ever written in full except at the beginning of a line. In such words asꝑest,ꝑfit,ꝑfaire, there may be doubt sometimes betweenperandpar, and the spelling of some of them was certainly variable. Attention must be called especially to the frequently occurring-o̅n̅as a termination. It has been regularly written out as-oun, and I have no doubt that this is right. In Bozon’sContes Moralizésthe same abbreviation is used, alternating freely with the full form-oun, and it is common in the MSS. of theConfessio Amantisand in the Ellesmere MS. of theCanterbury Tales(so far as I have had the opportunity of examining it), especially in words of French origin such asdevocioun,contricioun. In the French texts this mode of writing is applied also very frequently to the monosyllablesmon,ton,son,bon,don,non, as well as tobonté,nonpas,noncertein, &c. The scribe of theMirourwritesdounin full once (24625) withdo̅n̅in the same stanza, inBal.xxi. 4nounis twice fully written, and in some MSS. of theTraitié(e.g. Bodley 294) the full form occurs frequently side by side with the abbreviation. A similar conclusion must be adopted as regardsa̅n̅(annum), also writtenaun,gla̅n̅,da̅n̅cer, and the termination-a̅n̅ce, which is occasionally found.

The existence of theCinkante Baladeswas first made known to the public by Warton in hisHistory of English Poetry, Sect. xix, his attention having been drawn to the MS. which contains them by its possessor, Lord Gower. After describing the other contents of this MS., he says: ‘But theCinkante Baladesor fifty French Sonnets above mentioned are the curious and valuable part of Lord Gower’s manuscript. They are not mentioned by those who have written the Life of this poet or have catalogued his works. Nor do they appear in any other manuscript of Gower which I have examined. But if they should be discovered in any other, I will venture to pronounce that a more authentic, unembarrassed, and practicable copy than this before us will not be produced.... To say no more, however, of the value which these little pieces may derive from being so scarce and so little known, they have much real and intrinsic merit. They are tender, pathetic and poetical, and place our old poet Gowerin a more advantageous point of view than that in which he has hitherto been usually seen. I know not if any even among the French poets themselves of this period have left a set of more finished sonnets; for they were probably written when Gower was a young man, about the year 1350. Nor had yet any English poet treated the passion of love with equal delicacy of sentiment and elegance of composition. I will transcribe four of these balades as correctly and intelligibly as I am able; although, I must confess, there are some lines which I do not exactly comprehend.’ He then quotes as specimensBal.xxxvi, xxxiv, xliii, and xxx, but his transcription is far from being correct and is often quite unintelligible.

Date.—The date at which theCinkante Baladeswere composed cannot be determined with certainty. Warton, judging apparently by the style and subject only, decided, as we have seen, that they belonged to the period of youth, and we know from a passage in theMirour(27340) that the author composed love poems of some kind in his early life. Apart from this, however, the evidence is all in favour of assigning theBaladesto the later years of the poet’s life. It is true, of course, that the Dedication to King Henry IV which precedes them, and the Envoy which closes them, may have been written later than the rest; but at the same time it must be noted that the second balade of the Dedication speaks distinctly of a purpose of making poems for the entertainment of the royal court, and the mutilated title which follows the Dedication confirms this, so far as it can be read. Again, the prose remarks which accompanyBal.v and vi make it clear that the circumstances of the poems are not personal to the author, seeing that he there divides them into two classes, those that are appropriate for persons about to be married, and those that are ‘universal’ and have application to all sorts and conditions of lovers. Moreover, several of these last, viz, xli-xliv and also xlvi, are supposed to be addressed by ladies to their lovers. It is evident that the balades are only to a very limited extent, if at all, expressive of the actual feelings of the author towards a particular person. As an artist he has set himself to supply suitable forms of expression for the feelings of others, and in doing so he imagines their variety of circumstances and adapts his composition accordingly. For this kind of work it is not necessary, or perhaps even desirable, to bea lover oneself; it is enough to have been a lover once: and that Gower could in his later life express the feelings of a lover with grace and truth we have ample evidence in theConfessio Amantis. No doubt it is possible that these balades were written at various times in the poet’s life, and perhaps some persons, recognizing the greater spontaneity and the more gracefully poetical character (as it seems to me) of the first thirty or so, as compared with the more evident tendency to moralize in the rest, may be inclined to see in this an indication of earlier date for the former poems. In fact however the moralizing tendency, though always present, grew less evident in Gower’s work with advancing years. There is less of it in theConfessio Amantisthan in his former works, and this not by accident but on principle, the author avowing plainly that unmixed morality had not proved effective, and accepting love as the one universally interesting subject. When Henry of Lancaster, the man after his own heart, was fairly seated on the throne, he probably felt himself yet more free to lay aside the self-imposed task of setting right the world, and to occupy himself with a purely literary task in the language and style which he felt to be most suitable for a court. In any case it seems certain that some at least of the balades were composed with a view to the court of Henry IV, and the collection assumed its present shape probably in the year of his accession, 1399, for we know that either in the first or the second year of Henry IV the poet became blind and ceased to write.

Form and Versification.—The collection consists of a Dedication addressed to Henry IV, fifty-one (not fifty) balades of love (one number being doubled by mistake), then one, unnumbered, addressed to the Virgin, and a general Envoy. The balades are written in stanzas of seven or eight lines, exactly half of the whole fifty-four (including the Dedication) belonging to each arrangement. The seven-line stanza rhymesab ab bccwith Envoybc bc, or in three instancesab ab baa, Envoyba ba; the eight-line stanza ordinarilyab ab bc bcwith Envoybc bc, but also in seven instancesab ab ba bawith Envoyba ba. The form is the normal one of the balade, three stanzas with rhymes alike and an Envoy; but in one case,Bal.ix, there are five stanzas with Envoy, and in another, xxxii, the Envoy is wanting. Also the balade addressed to the Virgin, whichis added at the end, is without Envoy, and there follows a general Envoy of seven lines, rhyming independently and referring to the whole collection.

The balade form is of course taken from Continental models, and the metre of the verse is syllabically correct like that of theMirour. As was observed however about the octosyllabic line of theMirour, so it may be said of the ten-syllable verse here, that the rhythm is not exactly like that of the French verse of the Continent. The effect is due, as before remarked, to the attempt to combine the English accentual with the French syllabic measure. This is especially visible in the treatment of the caesura. In the compositions of the French writers of the new poetry—Froissart, for example—the ten- (or eleven-) syllable line has regularly a break after the fourth syllable. This fourth syllable however may be either accented or not, that is, either as in the line,

‘Se vous voulez aucune plainte faire,’

‘Se vous voulez aucune plainte faire,’

‘Se vous voulez aucune plainte faire,’

‘Se vous voulez aucune plainte faire,’

or as in the following,

‘Prenez juge qui soit de noble afaire.’

‘Prenez juge qui soit de noble afaire.’

‘Prenez juge qui soit de noble afaire.’

‘Prenez juge qui soit de noble afaire.’

The weaker form of caesura shown in this latter line occurs in at least ten per cent. of the verses in this measure which Froissart gives in theTrésor Amoureux, and the case is much the same with theBaladesof Charles d’Orléans, a generation later. Gower, on the other hand, does not admit the unaccented syllable (muteetermination) in the fourth place at all; no such line as this,

‘De ma dame que j’aime et ameray,’

‘De ma dame que j’aime et ameray,’

‘De ma dame que j’aime et ameray,’

‘De ma dame que j’aime et ameray,’

is to be found in his balades. Indeed, we may go further than this, and say that the weak syllable is seldom tolerated in the other even places of the verse, where the English ear demanded a strongly marked accentual beat. Such a line as

‘Vous me poetz sicom vostre demeine’ (Bal.xxxix. 2)

‘Vous me poetz sicom vostre demeine’ (Bal.xxxix. 2)

‘Vous me poetz sicom vostre demeine’ (Bal.xxxix. 2)

‘Vous me poetz sicom vostre demeine’ (Bal.xxxix. 2)

is quite exceptional.

At the same time he does not insist on ending a word on the fourth syllable, but in seven or eight per cent. of his lines the word is run on into the next foot, as

‘Et vous, ma dame, croietz bien cela.’

‘Et vous, ma dame, croietz bien cela.’

‘Et vous, ma dame, croietz bien cela.’

‘Et vous, ma dame, croietz bien cela.’

This is usually the form that the verse takes in such cases, thesyllable carried on being a muteetermination, and the caesura coming after this syllable; but lines like the following also occur, in which the caesura is transfered to the end of the third foot:

‘Si fuisse en paradis, ceo beal manoir,’ v. 3.‘En toute humilité sans mesprisure,’ xii. 4.

‘Si fuisse en paradis, ceo beal manoir,’ v. 3.‘En toute humilité sans mesprisure,’ xii. 4.

‘Si fuisse en paradis, ceo beal manoir,’ v. 3.‘En toute humilité sans mesprisure,’ xii. 4.

‘Si fuisse en paradis, ceo beal manoir,’ v. 3.

‘En toute humilité sans mesprisure,’ xii. 4.

So xvi. l. 2, xx. l. 20, &c., and others again in which the syllable carried on is an accented one, as

‘Si femme porroit estre celestine,’ xxi. 2.‘Jeo ne sai nomer autre, si le noun;’ xxiv. 1.

‘Si femme porroit estre celestine,’ xxi. 2.‘Jeo ne sai nomer autre, si le noun;’ xxiv. 1.

‘Si femme porroit estre celestine,’ xxi. 2.‘Jeo ne sai nomer autre, si le noun;’ xxiv. 1.

‘Si femme porroit estre celestine,’ xxi. 2.

‘Jeo ne sai nomer autre, si le noun;’ xxiv. 1.

It must be noticed also that the poet occasionally uses the so-called epic caesura, admitting a superfluous unaccented syllable after the second foot, as

‘Et pensetz, dame, de ceo q’ai dit pieça,’ ii. 3.‘Qe mieulx voldroie morir en son servage,’ xxiii. 2.

‘Et pensetz, dame, de ceo q’ai dit pieça,’ ii. 3.‘Qe mieulx voldroie morir en son servage,’ xxiii. 2.

‘Et pensetz, dame, de ceo q’ai dit pieça,’ ii. 3.‘Qe mieulx voldroie morir en son servage,’ xxiii. 2.

‘Et pensetz, dame, de ceo q’ai dit pieça,’ ii. 3.

‘Qe mieulx voldroie morir en son servage,’ xxiii. 2.

So withdame,dames, xix. l. 20, xx. l. 13, xxxvii. l. 18, xlvi. l. 15[K]; and with other words, xxv. l. 8, &c.,aime, xxxiii. l. 10,nouche, xxxviii. l. 23,grace, xliv. l. 8,fame. In xx. 1 the same thing occurs exceptionally in another part of the line, the wordroecounting as one syllable only, though it is a dissyllable inMir.10942. Naturally the termination-ée, as in iii. 2,

‘La renomée, dont j’ai l’oreile pleine,’

‘La renomée, dont j’ai l’oreile pleine,’

‘La renomée, dont j’ai l’oreile pleine,’

‘La renomée, dont j’ai l’oreile pleine,’

does not constitute an epic caesura, because, as observed elsewhere, the finalein this case did not count as a syllable in Anglo-Norman verse.

On the whole we may say that Gower treats the caesura with much the same freedom as is used in the English verse of the period, and at the same time he marks the beat of his iambic verse more strongly than was done by the contemporary French poets.

Matter and Style.—As regards the literary character of these compositions it must be allowed that they have, as Warton says, ‘much real and intrinsic merit.’ There is indeed a grace and poetical feeling in some of them which makes them probably the best things of the kind that have been produced by English writers of French, and as good as anything of the kind which had up to that time been written in English. The author himself hasmarked them off into two unequal divisions. The poems of the first class (i-v) express for us the security of the accepted lover, whose suit is to end in lawful marriage:

‘Jeo sui tout soen et elle est toute moie,Jeo l’ai et elle auci me voet avoir;Pour tout le mond jeo ne la changeroie.’ (Bal.v.)

‘Jeo sui tout soen et elle est toute moie,Jeo l’ai et elle auci me voet avoir;Pour tout le mond jeo ne la changeroie.’ (Bal.v.)

‘Jeo sui tout soen et elle est toute moie,Jeo l’ai et elle auci me voet avoir;Pour tout le mond jeo ne la changeroie.’ (Bal.v.)

‘Jeo sui tout soen et elle est toute moie,

Jeo l’ai et elle auci me voet avoir;

Pour tout le mond jeo ne la changeroie.’ (Bal.v.)

From these he passes to those expressions of feeling which apply to lovers generally, ‘qui sont diversement travailez en la fortune d’amour.’ Nothing can be more graceful in its way than the idea and expression ofBal.viii, ‘D’estable coer, qui nullement se mue,’ where the poet’s thought is represented as a falcon, flying on the wings of longing and desire in a moment across the sea to his absent mistress, and taking his place with her till he shall see her again. Once more, inBal.xv, the image of the falcon appears, but this time it is a bird which is allowed to fly only with a leash, for so bound is the lover to his lady that he cannot but return to her from every flight. At another time (Bal.xviii) the lover is in despair at the hardness of his lady’s heart: drops of water falling will in time wear through the hardest stone; but this example will not serve him, for he cannot pierce the tender ears of his mistress with prayers, how urgent and repeated soever; God and the saints will hear his prayers, but she is harder than the marble of the quarry—the more he entreats, the less she listens, ‘Com plus la prie, et meinz m’ad entendu.’ Again (xiii) his state is like the month of March, now shine, now shower. When he looks on the sweet face of his lady and sees her ‘gentilesse,’ wisdom, and bearing, he has only pure delight; but when he perceives how far above him is her worth, fear and despair cloud over his joy, as the moon is darkened by eclipse. But in any case he must think of her (xxiv); she has so written her name on his heart that when he hears the chaplain read his litany he can think of nothing but of her. God grant that his prayer may not be in vain! Did not Pygmalion in time past by prayer obtain that his lady should be changed from stone to flesh and blood, and ought not other lovers to hope for the same fortune from prayer? He seems to himself to be in a dream, and he questions with himself and knows not whether he is a human creature or no, so absorbed is his being by his love. God grant that his prayermay not be in vain! He removes himself from her for a time (xxv) because of evil speakers, who with their slanders might injure her good name; but she must know that his heart is ever with her and that all his grief and joy hangs upon her, ‘Car qui bien aime ses amours tard oblie.’ But (xxix) she has misunderstood his absence; report tells him that she is angry with him. If she knew his thoughts, she would not be so disposed towards him; this balade he sends to make his peace, for he cannot bear to be out of her love. In another (xxxii) he expresses the deepest dejection: the New Year has come and is proceeding from winter towards spring, but for him there is winter only, which shrouds him in the thickest gloom. His lady’s beauty ever increases, but there is no sign of that kindness which should go with it; love only tortures him and gives him no friendly greeting. To this balade there is no Envoy, whether it be by negligence of the copyist, or because the lover could not even summon up spirit to direct it to his mistress. Again (xxxiii), he has given her his all, body and soul, both without recall, as a gift for this New Year of which he has just now spoken: his sole delight is to serve her. Will she not reward him even by a look? He asks for no present from her, let him only have some sign which may bid him hope, ‘Si plus n’y soit, donetz le regarder.’ The coming of Saint Valentine encourages him somewhat (xxxiv) with the reflection that all nature yields to love, but (xxxv) he remembers with new depression that though birds may choose their mates, yet he remains alone. May comes on (xxxvii), and his lady should turn her thoughts to love, but she sports with flowers and pays no heed to the prayer of her prisoner. She is free, but he is strongly bound; her close is full of flowers, but he cannot enter it; in the sweet season his fortune is bitter, May is for him turned into winter: ‘Vous estes franche et jeo sui fort lié.’

Then the lady has her say, and in accordance with the prerogative of her sex her moods vary with startling abruptness. She has doubts (xli) about her lover’s promises. He who swears most loudly is the most likely to deceive, and some there are who will make love to a hundred and swear to each that she is the only one he loves. ‘To thee, who art one thing in the morning and at evening another, I send this balade for thy reproof, to let thee know that I leave thee and care not for thee.’ In xliii she is fully convinced of his treachery, he is falser than Jason to Medea orEneas to Dido. How different from Lancelot and Tristram and the other good knights! ‘C’est ma dolour que fuist ainçois ma joie.’ With this is contrasted the sentiment of xliv, in which the lady addresses one whom she regards as the flower of chivalry and the ideal of a lover, and to whom she surrenders unconditionally. The lady speaks again in xlvi, and then the series is carried to its conclusion with rather a markedly moral tone. At the end comes an address to the Virgin, in which the author declares himself bound to serve all ladies, but her above them all. No lover can really be without a loving mistress, for in her is love eternal and invariable. He loves and serves her with all his heart, and he trusts to have his reward. The whole concludes with an Envoy addressed to ‘gentle England,’ describing the book generally as a memorial of the joy which has come to the poet’s country from its noble king Henry, sent by heaven to redress its ills.

Printed Editions.—TheBaladeshave been twice printed. They were published by the Roxburghe Club in 1818, together with the other contents of the Trentham MS. except the English poem, with the title ‘Balades and other Poems by John Gower. Printed from the original MS. in the library of the Marquis of Stafford at Trentham,’ Roxburghe Club, 1818, 4to. The editor was Earl Gower. This edition has a considerable number of small errors, several of which obscure the sense; only a small number of copies was printed, and the book can hardly be obtained.

In 1886 an edition of theBaladesand of theTraitiéwas published in Germany under the name of Dr. Edmund Stengel in the series of ‘Ausgaben und Abhandlungen aus dem Gebiete der romanischen Philologie.’ The title of this book is ‘John Gower’s Minnesang und Ehezuchtbüchlein: LXXII anglonormannische Balladen ... neu herausgegeben von Edmund Stengel.’ Marburg, 1886. The preface is signed with the initials D. H. The editor of this convenient little book was unable to obtain access to the original MS., apparently because he had been wrongly informed as to the place where it was to be found, and accordingly printed theBaladesfrom the Roxburghe edition with such emendations as his scholarship suggested. He removed a good many obvious errors of a trifling kind, and in a few cases he was successful in emending the text by conjecture. Some important corrections, however, still remained to be made,and in several instances he introduced error into the text either by incorrectly transcribing the Roxburghe edition or by unsuccessful attempts at emendation. I do not wish to speak with disrespect of this edition. The editor laboured under serious disadvantages in not being able to refer to the original MS. and in not having always available even a copy of the Roxburghe edition, so that we cannot be surprised that he should have made mistakes. I have found his text useful to work upon in collation, and some of his critical remarks are helpful.

The present Text.—The text of this edition is based directly on the MS., which remains still in the library at Trentham Hall and to which access was kindly allowed me by the Duke of Sutherland. I propose to describe the MS. fully, since it is of considerable interest, and being in a private library it is not generally accessible.

The Trentham MS., referred to as T., is a thin volume, containing 41 leaves of parchment, measuring about 6¼ in. x 9¼ in., and made up apparently as follows: a4, b1, c6, d—f8(one leaf cut out), g1, h4, i2(no catchwords).

The first four leaves and the last two are blank except for notes of ownership, &c., so that the text of the book extends only from f. 5 to f. 39, one leaf being lost between f. 33 and f. 34.

The pages are ruled for 35 lines and are written in single column. The handwriting is of the end of the fourteenth or beginning of the fifteenth century, and resembles what I elsewhere describe as the ‘third hand’ in MS. Fairfax 3, though I should hesitate to affirm that it is certainly the same, not having had the opportunity of setting the texts side by side. There is, however, another hand in the MS., which appears in the Latin lines on ff. 33 voand 39 vo.

The initial letters of poems and stanzas are coloured, but there is no other ornamentation.

The book contains (1) ff. 5—10 vo, the English poem in seven-line stanzas addressed to Henry IV, beginning ‘O worthi noble kyng.’

(2) f. 10 vo, 11, the Latin piece beginning ‘Rex celi deus.’

(3) f. 11 vo—12 vo, two French balades with a set of Latin verses between them, addressed to Henry IV (f. 12 is seriously damaged). This is what I refer to as the Dedication.

(4) ff. 12 vo—33,Cinkante balades.

(5) f. 33 vo, Latin lines beginning ‘Ecce patet tensus,’ incomplete owing to the loss of the next leaf. Written in a different hand.

(6) ff. 34—39, ‘Traitié pour ensampler les amantz marietz,’ imperfect at the beginning owing to the loss of the preceding leaf.

(7) f. 39 vo, Latin lines beginning ‘Henrici quarti,’ written in the hand which appears on f. 33 vo.

On the first blank leaf is the following in the handwriting of Sir Thomas Fairfax:

‘Sr. John Gower’s learned Poems the same booke by himself presented to kinge Henry ye fourth before his Coronation.’

‘Sr. John Gower’s learned Poems the same booke by himself presented to kinge Henry ye fourth before his Coronation.’

(Originally this was ‘att his Coronation,’ then ‘att or before his Coronation,’ and finally the words ‘att or’ were struck through with the pen.)

Then lower down in the same hand:

‘For my honorable freind & kinsman sr. Thomas Gower knt. and Baronett fromFfairfax 1656.’

‘For my honorable freind & kinsman sr. Thomas Gower knt. and Baronett from

Ffairfax 1656.’

Ffairfax 1656.’

Ffairfax 1656.’

Ffairfax 1656.’

On the verso of the second leaf near the left-hand top corner is written a name which appears to be ‘Rychemond,’ and there is added in a different hand of the sixteenth century:

‘Liber Hen: Septimi tunc comitis Richmond manu propria script.’

‘Liber Hen: Septimi tunc comitis Richmond manu propria script.’

On the fifth leaf, where the text of the book begins, in the right-hand top corner, written in the hand of Fairfax:

‘ffairfax No265by the gift of the learned Gentleman Charles Gedde Esq. liuinge in the Citty of St Andrews.’

‘ffairfax No265by the gift of the learned Gentleman Charles Gedde Esq. liuinge in the Citty of St Andrews.’

‘ffairfax No265by the gift of the learned Gentleman Charles Gedde Esq. liuinge in the Citty of St Andrews.’

‘ffairfax No265by the gift of the learned Gentleman Charles Gedde Esq. liuinge in the Citty of St Andrews.’

‘ffairfax No265

by the gift of the learned Gentleman Charles Gedde Esq. liuinge in the Citty of St Andrews.’

Then below in another hand:

‘Libenter tunc dabamId testor Carolus GeddeIpsis bis septenis Kalendismensis Octobris 1656.’

‘Libenter tunc dabamId testor Carolus GeddeIpsis bis septenis Kalendismensis Octobris 1656.’

‘Libenter tunc dabamId testor Carolus GeddeIpsis bis septenis Kalendismensis Octobris 1656.’

‘Libenter tunc dabam

Id testor Carolus Gedde

Ipsis bis septenis Kalendis

mensis Octobris 1656.’

On the last leaf of the text, f. 39, there is a note in Latin made in 1651 at St. Andrews (Andreapoli) by C. Gedde at the age of seventy, with reference to the date of Henry IV’s reign. Then in English,

‘This booke pertaineth to aged Charles Gedde,’

‘This booke pertaineth to aged Charles Gedde,’

and inserted between the lines by Fairfax,

‘but now to ffairfax of his gift, Jun. 28. 1656.’

‘but now to ffairfax of his gift, Jun. 28. 1656.’

Below follows a note in English on the date of the death of Chaucer and of Gower, and their places of burial.

The first of the blank leaves at the end is covered with Latin anagrams on the names ‘Carolus Geddeius,’ ‘Carolus Geddie,’ or ‘Carolus Geddee,’ with this heading,

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