English Literature for Boys and Girls. H. E. Marshall

Do Bet, Do Best.

      In the beginning of Piers the Ploughman Langland tells us how

      "In a summer season when soft was the sun,

       I wrapped myself in a cloak as if I were a shepherd

       In the habit of a hermit unholy of works,

       Abroad I wandered in this world wonders to hear.

       But on a May morning on Malvern Hills

       Me befell a wonder, a strange thing. Methought,

       I was weary of wandering, and went me to rest

       Under a broad bank by a burn side.

       And as I lay, and leaned, and looked on the waters

       I slumbered in a sleeping it sounded so merry."

      If you will look back you will see that this poetry is very much more like Layamon's than like the poetry of Havelok the Dane. Although people had, for many years, been writing rhyming verse, Langland has, you see, gone back to the old alliterative poetry. Perhaps it was that, living far away in the country, Langland had written his poem before he had heard of the new kind of rhyming verses, for news traveled slowly in those days.

      Two hundred years later, when The Vision of Piers the Ploughman was first printed, the printer in his preface explained alliterative verse very well. "Langland wrote altogether in metre," he says, "but not after the manner of our rimers that write nowadays (for his verses end not alike), but the nature of his metre is to have three words, at the least, in every verse which begin with some one letter. As for example the first two verses of the book run upon 's,' as thus:

      'In a somer season whan sette was the sunne

       I shope me into shrobbes as I a shepe were.'

      The next runneth upon 'h,' as thus:

      'In habite as an Hermite unholy of workes.'

      This thing being noted, the metre shall be very pleasant to read. The English is according to the time it was written in, and the sense somewhat dark, but not so hard but that it may be understood of such as will not stick to break the shell of the nut for the kernel's sake."

      This printer also says in his preface that the book was first written in the time of King Edward III, "In whose time it pleased God to open the eyes of many to see his truth, giving them boldness of heart to open their mouths and cry out against the works of darkness. … There is no manner of vice that reigneth in any estate of man which this writer hath not godly, learnedly, and wittily rebuked."*

      *R. Crowley is his preface to Piers Ploughman, printed in 1550.

      I hope that you will be among those who will not "stick to break the shell of the nut for the kernel's sake," and that although the "sense be somewhat dark" you will some day read the book for yourselves. Meantime in the next chapter I will tell you a little more about it.

Chapter XX "PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN"—continued

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      WHEN Langland fell asleep upon the Malvern Hills he dreamed a wondrous dream. He thought that he saw a "fair field full of folk," where was gathered "all the wealth of the world and the woe both."

      "Working and wondering as the world asketh,

       Some put them to the plough and played them full seldom,

       In eareing and sowing laboured full hard."

      But some are gluttons and others think only of fine clothes. Some pray and others jest. There are rogues and knaves here, friars and priests, barons and burgesses, bakers and butchers, tailors and tanners, masons and miners, and folk of many other crafts. Indeed, the field is the world. It lies between a tower and a dungeon. The tower is God, the dungeon is the dwelling of the Evil One.

      Then, as Langland looked on all this, he saw

      "A lady lovely in face, in linnen i-clothed,

       Come adown from the cliff and spake me fair,

       And said, 'Son, sleepest thou? Seest thou this people

       All how busy they be about the maze?'"

      Langland was "afeard of her face though she was fair." But the lovely lady, who is Holy Church, speaks gently to the dreamer. She tells him that the tower is the dwelling of Truth, who is the lord of all and who gives to each as he hath need. The dungeon is the castle of Care.

      "Therein liveth a wight that Wrong is called,

       The Father of Falseness."

      Love alone, said the lady, leads to Heaven,

      "Therefore I warn ye, the rich, have ruth on the poor.

       Though ye be mighty in councils, be meek in your works,

       For the same measure ye meet, amiss or otherwise,

       Ye shall be weighed therewith when ye wend hence."

      "Truth is best in all things," she said at length. "I have told thee now what Truth is, and may no longer linger." And so she made ready to go. But the dreamer kneeled on his knees and prayed her stay yet a while to teach him to know Falsehood also, as well as Truth.

      And the lady answered:—

      "'Look on thy left hand and see where he standeth,

       Both False and Flattery and all his train.'

       I looked on the left hand as the Lady me taught.

       Then was I ware of a woman wondrously clothéd,

       Purfled with fur, the richest on earth.

       Crowned with a crown. The King hath no better.

       All her five fingers were fretted with rings

       Of the most precious stones that a prince ever wore;

       In red scarlet she rode, beribboned with gold,

       There is no queen alive that is more adorned."

      This was Lady Meed or Bribery. "To-morrow," said Holy Church, "she shall wed with False." And so the lovely Lady departed.

      Left alone the dreamer watched the preparations for the wedding. The Earldom of Envy, the Kingdom of Covetousness, the Isle of Usury were granted as marriage gifts to the pair. But Theology was angry. He would not permit the wedding to take place. "Ere this wedding be wrought, woe betide thee," he cried. "Meed is wealthy; I know it. God grant us to give her unto whom Truth wills. But thou hast bound her fast to Falseness. Meed is gently born. Lead her therefore to London, and there see if the law allows this wedding."

      So, listening to the advice of Theology, all the company rode off to London, Guile leading the way.

      But Soothness pricked on his palfrey and passed them all and came to the King's court, where he told Conscience all about the matter, and Conscience told the King.

      Then quoth the King, "If I might catch False and Flattery or any of their masters, I would avenge me on the wretches that work so ill, and would hang them by the neck and all that them abet."

      So he told the Constable to seize False and to cut off Guile's head, "and let not Liar escape." But Dread was at the door and heard the doom. He warned the others, so that they all fled away save Meed the maiden.

      "Save Meed the maiden no man durst abide,

       And truly to tell she trembled for fear,

       And she wept and wrung her hands when she was taken."

      But the King called a Clerk and told him to comfort Meed. So Justice soon hurried to her bower to comfort her kindly, and many others followed him. Meed thanked them all and "gave them cups of clean gold and pieces of silver, rings with rubies and riches enough." And pretending to be sorry for all that she had done amiss, Meed confessed her sins and was forgiven.

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