POPULAR LITERATURE AND ITS HEROES; BROTHER RUSH, TYLL EULENSPIEGEL,
THE WISE MEN OF GOTHAM.--STORIES AND JEST-BOOKS.--SKELTON, SCOGIN,
TARLTON, PEELE.
The people in the middle ages, as well as its superiors, had its
comic literature and legend. Legend was the literature especially of
the peasant, and in it the spirit of burlesque and satire manifested
itself in many ways. Simplicity, combined with vulgar cunning, and the
circumstances arising out of the exercise of these qualities, presented
the greatest stimulants to popular mirth. They produced their popular
heroes, who, at first, were much more than half legendary, such as
the familiar spirit, Robin Goodfellow, whose pranks were a source of
continual amusement rather than of terror to the simple minds which
listened to those who told them. These stories excited with still
greater interest as their spiritual heroes became incarnate, and the
auditors were persuaded that the perpetrators of so many artful acts of
cunning and of so many mischievous practical jokes, were but ordinary
men like themselves. It was but a sign or symbol of the change from
the mythic age to that of practical life. One of the earliest of these
stories of mythic comedy transformed into, or at least presented under
the guise of, humanity, is that of Brother Ruth. Although the earliest
version of this story with which we are acquainted dates only from the
beginning of the sixteenth century,[73] there is no reason for doubt
that the story itself was in existence at a much more remote period.
[73] This earliest known version is in German verse, and was printed
in 1515. An English version, in prose, was printed in 1620, and
is reprinted in Thoms's "Collection of Early Prose Romances."
Rush was, in truth, a spirit of darkness, whose mission it was
to wander on the earth tempting and impelling people to do evil.
Perceiving that the internal condition of a certain abbey was well
suited to his purpose, he presented himself at its gates in the
disguise of a youth who wanted employment, and was received as an
assistant in the kitchen, but he pleased the monks best by the skill
with which he furnished them all with fair companions. At length he
quarrelled with the cook, and threw him into the boiling caldron, and
the monks, assuming that his death was accidental, appointed Rush to be
cook in his place. After a service of seven years in the kitchen--which
appears to have been considered a fair apprenticeship for the new
honour which was to be conferred upon him--the abbot and convent
rewarded him by making him a monk. He now followed still more earnestly
his design for the ruin of his brethren, both soul and body, and began
by raising a quarrel about a woman, which led, through his contrivance,
to a fight, in which the monks all suffered grievous bodily injuries,
and in which Brother Rush was especially active. He went on in this
way until at last his true character was accidentally discovered. A
neighbouring farmer, overtaken by night, took shelter in a hollow tree.
It happened to be the night appointed by Lucifer to meet his agents
on earth, and hear from them the report of their several proceedings,
and he had selected this very oak as the place of rendezvous. There
Brother Rush appeared, and the farmer, in his hiding-place, heard his
confession from his own lips, and told it to the abbot, who, being as
it would appear a magician, conjured him into the form of a horse, and
banished him. Rush hurried away to England, where he laid aside his
equine form, and entered the body of the king's daughter, who suffered
great torments from his possession. At length some of the great doctors
from Paris came and obliged the spirit to confess that nobody but the
abbot of the distant monastery had any power over him. The abbot came,
called him out of the maiden, and conjured him more forcibly than ever
into the form of a horse.
Such is, in mere outline, the story of Brother Rush, which was
gradually enlarged by the addition of new incidents. But the people
wanted a hero who presented more of the character of reality, who,
in fact, might be recognised as one of themselves; and such heroes
appear to have existed at all times. They usually represented a
class in society, and especially that class which consisted of idle
sharpers, who lived by their wits, and which was more numerous and more
familiarly known in the middle ages than at the present day. Folly
and cunning combined presented a never-failing subject of mirth. This
class of adventurers first came into print in Germany, and it is there
that we find its first popular hero, to whom they gave the name of
Eulenspiegel, which means literally "the owl's mirror," and has been
since used in German in the sense of a merry fool. Tyll Eulenspiegel,
and his story, are supposed to have belonged to the fourteenth century,
though we first know them in the printed book of the commencement of
the sixteenth, which is believed to have come from the pen of the
well-known popular writer, Thomas Murner, of whom I shall have to speak
more at length in another chapter. The popularity of this work was very
great, and it was quickly translated into French, English, Latin, and
almost every other language of Western Europe. In the English version
the name also was translated, and appears under the form of Owleglass,
or, as it often occurs with the superfluous aspirate, Howleglass.[74]
According to the story, Tyll Eulenspiegel was the son of a peasant, and
was born at a village called Kneitlingen, in the land of Brunswick.
The story of his birth may be given in the words of the early English
version, as a specimen of its quaint and antiquated language:--
"Yn the lande of Sassen, in the vyllage of Ruelnige, there
dwelleth a man that was named Nicholas Howleglas, that had a wife
named Wypeke, that lay a childbed in the same wyllage, and that
chylde was borne to christening; and named Tyell Howleglass. And
than the chyld was brought into a taverne, where the father was
wyth his gosseppes and made good chere. Whan the mydwife had wel
dronke, she toke the childe to bere it home, and in the wai was a
litle bridg over a muddy water. And as the mydwife would have gone
over the lytle brydge, she fel into the mudde with the chylde,
for she had a lytel dronk to much wyne, for had not helpe come
quickly, the had both be drowned in the mudde. And whan she came
home with the childe, the made a kettle of warm water to be made
redi, and therin they washed the child clen of the mudde. And
thus was Howleglas thre tymes in one dai cristened, once at the
churche, once in the mudde, and once in the warm water."
[74] The title of this English translation is, "Here beginneht a merye
Jest of a man that was called Howleglas, and of many marveylous
thinges and jestes that he dyd in his lyfe, in Eastlande, and in
many other places." It was printed by Coplande, supposed about
1520. An edition of Eulenspiegel in English, by Mr. Kenneth
Mackenzie, has recently been published by Messrs. Trübner & Co.,
of Paternoster Row.
It will be seen that the English translator was not very correct in his
geography or in his names. The child, having thus escaped destruction,
grew rapidly, and displayed an extraordinary love of mischief, with
various other evil propensities, as well as a cunning beyond his age,
in escaping the risks to which these exposed him. At a very early age,
he displayed a remarkable talent for setting the other children by the
ears, and this was his favourite amusement during life. His mother,
who was now a widow, contemplating the extraordinary cunning of her
child, which, as she thought, must necessarily ensure his advancement
in the world, resolved that he should no longer remain idle, and put
him apprentice to a baker; but his wicked and restless disposition
defeated all the good intentions of his parent, and Eulenspiegel was
obliged to leave his master in consequence of his mal-practices. One
day his mother took him to a church-dedication, and the child drank
so much at the feast on that occasion, that he crept into an empty
beehive and fell asleep, while his mother, thinking he had gone home,
returned without him. In the night-time two thieves came into the
garden to steal the bees, and they agreed to take first the hive which
was heaviest. This, as may be supposed, proved to be the hive in
which Eulenspiegel was hidden, and they fixed it on a pole which they
carried on their shoulders, one before and one behind, the hive hanging
between them. Eulenspiegel, awakened by the movement, soon discovered
the position in which he was placed, and hit upon a plan for escaping.
Gently lifting the lid of the hive, he put out his arm and plucked the
hair of the man before, who turned about and accused his companion of
insulting him. The other asserted that he had not touched him, and the
first, only half satisfied, continued to bear his share of the burthen,
but he had not advanced many steps when a still sharper pull at his
hair excited his great anger, and from wrathful words the two thieves
proceeded to blows. While they were fighting, Eulenspiegel crept out of
the hive and ran away.
After leaving the baker, Eulenspiegel became a wanderer in the world,
gaining his living by his trickery and deception, and engaging himself
in all sorts of strange and ludicrous adventures. He ended everywhere
by creating discord and strife. He became at different times a
blacksmith, a shoemaker, a tailor, a cook, a drawer of teeth, and
assumed a variety of other characters, but remained in each situation
only long enough to make it too hot for him, and to be obliged to
secure his retreat. He intruded himself into all classes of society,
and invariably came to similar results. Many of his adventures, indeed,
are so droll that we can easily understand the great popularity
they once enjoyed. But they are not merely amusing--they present a
continuous satire upon contemporary society, upon a social condition in
which every pretender, every reckless impostor, every private plunderer
or public depredator, saw the world exposed to him in its folly and
credulity as an easy prey.
The middle ages possessed another class of these popular satirical
histories, which were attached to places rather than to persons. There
were few countries which did not possess a town or a district, the
inhabitants of which were celebrated for stupidity, or for roguery,
or for some other ridiculous or contemptible quality. We have seen,
in a former chapter, the people of Norfolk enjoying this peculiarity,
and, at a later period, the inhabitants of Pevensey in Sussex, and
more especially those of Gotham in Nottinghamshire, were similarly
distinguished. The inhabitants of many places in Germany bore this
character, but their grand representatives among the Germans were the
Schildburgers, a name which appears to belong entirely to the domain
of fable. Schildburg, we are told, was a town "in Misnopotamia, beyond
Utopia, in the kingdom of Calecut." The Schildburgers were originally
so renowned for their wisdom, that they were continually invited into
foreign countries to give their advice, until at length not a man was
left at home, and their wives were obliged to assume the charge of the
duties of their husbands. This became at length so onerous, that the
wives held a council, and resolved on despatching a solemn message
in writing to call the men home. This had the desired effect; all the
Schildburgers returned to their own town, and were so joyfully received
by their wives that they resolved upon leaving it no more. They
accordingly held a council, and it was decided that, having experienced
the great inconvenience of a reputation of wisdom, they would avoid
it in future by assuming the character of fools. One of the first
evil results of their long neglect of home affairs was the want of a
council-hall, and this want they now resolved to supply without delay.
They accordingly went to the hills and woods, cut down the timber,
dragged it with great labour to the town, and in due time completed
the erection of a handsome and substantial building. But, when they
entered their new council-hall, what was their consternation to find
themselves in perfect darkness! In fact, they had forgotten to make
any windows. Another council was held, and one who had been among the
wisest in the days of their wisdom, gave his opinion very oracularly;
the result of which was that they should experiment on every possible
expedient for introducing light into the hall, and that they should
first try that which seemed most likely to succeed. They had observed
that the light of day was caused by sunshine, and the plan proposed was
to meet at mid-day when the sun was brightest, and fill sacks, hampers,
jugs, and vessels of all kinds, with sunshine and daylight, which they
proposed afterwards to empty into the unfortunate council-hall. Next
day, as the clock struck one, you might see a crowd of Schildburgers
before the council-house door, busily employed, some holding the sacks
open, and others throwing the light into them with shovels and any
other appropriate implements which came to hand. While they were thus
labouring, a stranger came into the town of Schildburg, and, hearing
what they were about, told them they were labouring to no purpose,
and offered to show them how to get the daylight into the hall. It is
unnecessary to say more than that this new plan was to make an opening
in the roof, and that the Schildburgers witnessed the effect with
astonishment, and were loud in their gratitude to their new comer.
The Schildburgers met with further difficulties before they completed
their council-hall. They sowed a field with salt, and when the
salt-plant grew up next year, after a meeting of the council, at
which it was stiffly disputed whether it ought to be reaped, or mowed,
or gathered in in some other manner, it was finally discovered that
the crop consisted of nothing but nettles. After many accidents of
this kind, the Schildburgers are noticed by the emperor, and obtain a
charter of incorporation and freedom, but they profit little by it. In
trying some experiments to catch mice, they set fire to their houses,
and the whole town is burnt to the ground, upon which, in their sorrow,
they abandon it altogether, and become, like the Jews of old, scattered
over the world, carrying their own folly into every country they visit.
The earliest known edition of the history of the Schildburgers was
printed in 1597,[75] but the story itself is no doubt older. It will
be seen at once that it involves a satire upon the municipal towns of
the middle ages. A similar series of adventures, only a little more
clerical, bore the title of "Der Pfarrherrn vom Kalenberg," or the
Parson of Kalenberg, and was first, as far as we know, published in the
latter half of the sixteenth century. The first known edition, printed
in 1582, is in prose. Von der Hagen, who reprinted a subsequent edition
in verse, in a volume already quoted, seems to think that in its first
form the story belongs to the fourteenth century.
[75] It was reprinted by Von der Hagen, in a little volume entitled
"Narrenbuch; herausgegeben durch Friedrich Heinrich von der
Hagen." 12mo., Halle, 1811.
The Schildburgers of Germany were represented in England by the wise
men of Gotham. Gotham is a village and parish about seven miles to
the south-west of Nottingham, and, curiously enough, a story is told
according to which the folly of the men of Gotham, like that of the
Schildburgers, was at first assumed. It is pretended that one day
king John, on his way to Nottingham, intended to pass through the
village of Gotham, and that the Gothamites, under the influence of
some vague notion that his presence would be injurious to them, raised
difficulties in his way which prevented his visit. The men of Gotham
were now apprehensive of the king's vengeance, and they resolved
to try and evade it by assuming the character of simpletons. When
the king's officers came to Gotham to inquire into the conduct of
the inhabitants, they found them engaged in the most extraordinary
pursuits, some of them seeking to drown an eel in a pond of water,
others making a hedge round a tree to confine a cuckoo which had
settled in it, and others employing themselves in similar futile
pursuits. The commissioners reported the people of Gotham to be no
better than fools, and by this stratagem they escaped any further
persecution, but the character they assumed remained attached to them.
This explanation is, of course, very late and very apocryphal; but
there can be little doubt that the character of the wise men of Gotham
is one of considerable antiquity. The story is believed to have been
drawn up in its present form by Andrew Borde, an English writer of the
reign of Henry VIII. It was reprinted a great number of times under
the form of those popular books called chap-books, because they were
hawked about the country by itinerant booksellers or chap-men. The
acts of the Gothamites displayed a greater degree of simplicity even
than those of the Schildburgers, but they are less connected. Here
is one anecdote told in the unadorned language of the chap-books, in
explanation of which it is only necessary to state that the men of
Gotham admired greatly the note of the cuckoo. "On a time the men of
Gotham fain would have pinn'd in the cuckow, that she might sing all
the year; and, in the midst of the town, they had a hedge made round in
compass, and got a cuckow and put her into it, and said, 'Sing here,
and you shall lack neither meat nor drink all the year.' The cuckow,
when she perceived herself encompassed with the hedge, flew away. 'A
vengeance on her,' said these wise men, 'we did not make our hedge high
enough.'" On another occasion, having caught a large eel which offended
them by its voracity, they assembled in council to deliberate on an
appropriate punishment, which ended in a resolution that it should be
drowned, and the criminal was ceremoniously thrown into a great pond.
One day twelve men of Gotham went a-fishing, and on their way home they
suddenly discovered that they had lost one of their number, and each
counted in his turn, and could find only eleven. In fact, each forgot
to count himself. In the midst of their distress--for they believed
their companion to be drowned--a stranger approached, and learnt the
cause of their sorrow. Finding they were not to be convinced of their
mistake by mere argument, he offered, on certain conditions, to find
the lost Gothamite, and he proceeded as follows. He took one by one
each of the twelve Gothamites, struck him a hard blow on the shoulder,
which made him scream, and at each cry counted one, two, three, &c.
When it came to twelve, they were all satisfied that the lost Gothamite
had returned, and paid the man for the service he had rendered them.
As a chap-book, this history of the men of Gotham became so popular,
that it gave rise to a host of other books of similar character, which
were compiled at a later period under such titles--formerly well
known to children--as, "The Merry Frolicks, or the Comical Cheats of
Swalpo;" "The Witty and Entertaining Exploits of George Buchanan,
commonly called the King's Fool;" "Simple Simon's Misfortunes;" and the
like. Nor must it be forgotten that the history of Eulenspiegel was
the prototype of a class of popular histories of larger dimensions,
represented in our own literature by "The English Rogue," the work of
Richard Head and Francis Kirkman, in the reign of Charles II., and
various other "rogues" belonging to different countries, which appeared
about that time, or not long afterwards. The earliest of these books
was "The Spanish Rogue, or Life of Guzman de Alfarache," written in
Spanish by Mateo Aleman in the latter part of the sixteenth century.
Curiously enough, some Englishman, not knowing apparently that the
history of Eulenspiegel had appeared in English under the name of
Owlglass, took it into his head to introduce him among the family of
rogues which had thus come into fashion, and, in 1720, published as
"Made English from the High Dutch," what he called "The German Rogue,
or the Life and Merry Adventures, Cheats, Stratagems, and Contrivances
of Tiel Eulespiegle."
The fifteenth century was the period during which mediæval forms
generally were changing into forms adapted to another state of society,
and in which much of the popular literature which has been in vogue
during modern times took its rise. In the fourteenth century, the
fabliaux of the jougleurs were already taking what we may perhaps term
a more literary form, and were reduced into prose narratives. This
took place especially in Italy, where these prose tales were called
_novelle_, implying some novelty in their character, a word which was
transferred into the French language under the form of _nouvelles_,
and was the origin of our modern English _novel_, applied to a work of
fiction. The Italian novelists adopted the Eastern plan of stringing
these stories together on the slight framework of one general plot,
in which are introduced causes for telling them and persons who tell
them. Thus the Decameron of Boccaccio holds towards the fabliaux
exactly the same position as that of the "Arabian Nights" to the older
Arabian tales. The Italian novelists became numerous and celebrated
throughout Europe, from the time of Boccaccio to that of Straparola,
at the commencement of the sixteenth century, and later. The taste for
this class of literature appears to have been introduced into France at
the court of Burgundy, where, under duke Philippe le Bon, a well-known
courtier and man of letters named Antoine de La Sale, who had, during
a sojourn in Italy, become acquainted with one of the most celebrated
of the earlier Italian collections, the "Cento Novello," or the Hundred
Novels, compiled a collection in French in imitation of them, under the
title of "Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles," or the Hundred new Novels,
one of the purest examples of the French language in the fifteenth
century.[76] The later French story-books, such as the Heptameron of
the queen of Navarre, and others, belong chiefly to the sixteenth
century. These collections of stories can hardly be said to have ever
taken root in this island as a part of English literature.
[76] I am obliged to pass over this part of the subject very rapidly.
For the history of that remarkable book, the "Cent Nouvelles
Nouvelles," I would refer the reader to the preface to my own
edition, "Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles, publiées d'après le
seul manuscrit connu, avec Introduction et Notes, par M. Thomas
Wright." 2 vols, 12mo., Paris, 1858.
But there arose partly out of these stories a class of books which
became greatly multiplied, and were, during a long period, extremely
popular. With the household fool, or jester, instead of the old
jougleur, the stories had been shorn of their detail, and sank into
the shape of mere witty anecdotes, and at the same time a taste arose
for what we now class under the general term of jests, clever sayings,
what the French call _bons mots_, and what the English of the sixteenth
century termed "quick answers." The word _jest_ itself arose from the
circumstance that the things designated by it arose out of the older
stories, for it is a mere corruption of gestes, the Latin _gesta_, in
the sense of narratives of acts or deeds, or tales. The Latin writers,
who first began to collect them into books, included them under the
general name of _facetiæ_. The earlier of these collections of facetiæ
were written in Latin, and of the origin of the first with which we
are acquainted, that by the celebrated scholar Poggio of Florence,
a curious anecdote is told. Some wits of the court of pope Martin
V., elected to the papacy in 1417, among whom were the pope's two
secretaries, Poggio and Antonio Lusco, Cincio of Rome, and Ruzello of
Bologna, appropriated to themselves a private corner in the Vatican,
where they assembled to chat freely among themselves. They called
it their _buggiale_, a word which signifies in Italian, a place of
recreation, where they tell stories, make jests, and amuse themselves
with discussing satirically the doings and characters of everybody.
This was the way in which Poggio and his friends entertained themselves
in their buggiale, and we are assured that in their talk they neither
spared the church nor the pope himself or his government. The facetiæ
of Poggio, in fact, which are said to be a selection of the good things
said in these meetings, show neither reverence for the church of Rome
nor respect for decency, but they are mostly stories which had been
told over and over again, long before Poggio came into the world. It
was perhaps this satire upon the church and upon the ecclesiastics
which gave much of their popularity to these facetiæ at a time when
a universal agitation of men's minds on religious affairs prevailed,
which was the great harbinger of the Reformation; and the next Latin
books of facetiæ came from men such as Henry Bebelius, who were zealous
reformers themselves.
Many of the jests in these Latin collections are put into the mouths of
jesters, or domestic fools, _fatui_, or _moriones_, as they are called
in the Latin; and in England, where these jest-books in the vernacular
tongue became more popular perhaps than in any other country, many
of them were published under the names of celebrated jesters, as the
"Merie Tales of Skelton," "The Jests of Scogin," "Tarlton's Jests," and
"The Jests of George Peele."
John Skelton, poet-laureat of his time, appears to have been known in
the courts of Henry VII. and Henry VIII. quite as much in the character
of a jester as in that of a poet. Poet-laureat was then a title or
degree given in the university of Oxford. His "Merye Tales" are all
personal of himself, and we should be inclined to say that his jests
and his poetry are equally bad. The former picture him as holding a
place somewhere between Eulenspiegel and the ordinary court-fool. We
may give as a sample of the best of them the tale No. 1.--
"_How Skelton came home late to Oxford from Abington._
"Skelton was an Englysheman borne as Skogyn was, and hee was
educated and broughte up in Oxfoorde, and there was he made a
poete lauriat. And on a tyme he had ben at Abbington to make mery,
wher that he had eate salte meates, and hee did com late home to
Oxforde, and he did lye in an ine named the Tabere, whyche is now
the Angell, and hee dyd drynke, and went to bed. About midnight
he was so thyrstie or drye that he was constrained to call to
the tapster for drynke, and the tapster harde him not. Then hee
cryed to hys oste and hys ostes, and to the ostler, for drinke,
and no man would here hym. Alacke, sayd Skelton, I shall peryshe
for lacke of drynke! What reamedye? At the last he dyd crie out
and sayd, Fyer, fyer, fyer! When Skelton hard every man bustle
hymselfe upward, and some of them were naked, and some were halfe
asleepe and amased, and Skelton dyd crye, Fier, fier! styll, that
everye man knewe not whether to resorte. Skelton did go to bed,
and the oste and ostis, and the tapster, with the ostler, dyd
runne to Skeltons chamber with candles lyghted in theyr handes,
saying, Where, where, where is the fyer? Here, here, here, said
Skelton, and poynted hys fynger to hys mouth, saying, Fetch me
some drynke to quenche the fyer and the heate and the drinesse in
my mouthe. And so they dyd."
Another of these "Merye Tales" of Skelton contains a satire upon
the practice which prevailed in the sixteenth and early part of the
seventeenth centuries of obtaining letters-patent of monopoly from the
crown, and also on the bibulous propensities of Welshmen--
"_How the Welshman dyd desyre Skelton to ayde hym in hys sute to
the kynge for a patent to sell drynke._
"Skelton, when he was in London, went to the kynges courte,
where there did come to hym a Welshman, saying, Syr, it is so,
that manye dooth come upp of my country to the kynges court, and
some doth get of the kyng by patent a castell, and some a parke,
and some a forest, and some one fee and some another, and they
dooe lyve lyke honest men; and I shoulde lyve as honestly as
the best, if I myght have a patyne for good dryncke, wherefore
I dooe praye yow to write a fewe woords for mee in a lytle byll
to geve the same to the kynges handes, and I wil geve you well
for your laboure. I am contented, sayde Skelton. Syt downe then,
sayde the Welshman, and write. What shall I wryte? sayde Skelton.
The Welshman sayde wryte _dryncke_. Nowe, sayde the Welshman,
write _more dryncke_. What now? sayde Skelton. Wryte nowe, _a
great deale of dryncke_. Nowe, sayd the Welshman, putte to all
thys dryncke _a littell crome of breade_, and _a great deale of
drynke_ to it, and reade once agayne. Skelton dyd reade, _Dryncke,
more dryncke, and a great deale of dryncke, and a lytle crome of
breade, and a great deale of dryncke to it_. Than the Welshman
sayde, Put oute _the litle crome of breade_, and sette in, _all
dryncke and no breade_. And if I myght have thys sygned of the
kynge, sayde the Welshman, I care for no more, as longe as I dooe
lyve. Well then, sayde Skelton, when you have thys signed of the
kyng, then wyll I labour for a patent to have bread, that you wyth
your drynke and I with the bread may fare well, and seeke our
livinge with bagge and staffe."
These two tales are rather favourable specimens of the collection
published under the name of Skelton, which, as far as we know, was
first printed about the middle of the sixteenth century. The collection
of the jests of Scogan, or, as he was popularly called, Scogin, which
is said to have been compiled by Andrew Borde, was probably given to
the world a few years before, but no copies of the earlier editions are
now known to exist. Scogan, the hero of these jests, is described as
occupying at the court of Henry VII. a position not much different from
that of an ordinary court-fool. Good old Holinshed the chronicler says
of him, perhaps a little too gently, that he was "a learned gentleman
and student for a time in Oxford, of a pleasant wit, and bent to merrie
devices, in respect whereof he was called into the court, where, giving
himselfe to his naturall inclination of mirth and pleasant pastime,
he plaied manie sporting parts, although not in such uncivil manner
as hath beene of him reported." This allusion refers most probably to
the jests, which represent him as leading a life of low and coarse
buffoonery, in the course of which he displayed a considerable
share of the dishonest and mischievous qualities of the less real
Eulenspiegel. He is even represented as personally insulting the king
and queen, and as being consequently banished over the Channel, to
show no more respect to the majesty of the king of France. Scogin's
jests, like Skelton's, consist in a great measure of those practical
jokes which appear in all former ages to have been the delight of the
Teutonic race. Many of them are directed against the ignorance and
worldliness of the clergy. Scogin is described as being at one time
himself a teacher in the university, and on one occasion, we are told,
a husbandman sent his son to school to him that he might be made a
priest. The whole story, which runs through several chapters, is an
excellent caricature on the way in which men vulgarly ignorant were
intruded into the priesthood before the Reformation. At length, after
much blundering, the scholar came to be ordained, and his examination
is reported as follows:--
"_How the scholler said Tom Miller of Oseney was Jacob's father._
"After this, the said scholler did come to the next orders, and
brought a present to the ordinary from Scogin, but the scholler's
father paid for all. Then said the ordinary to the scholler, I
must needes oppose you, and for master Scogin's sake, I will
oppose you in a light matter. Isaac had two sons, Esau and Jacob.
Who was Jacob's father? The scholler stood still, and could not
tell. Well, said the ordinary, I cannot admit you to be priest
untill the next orders, and then bring me an answer. The scholler
went home with a heavy heart, bearing a letter to master Scogin,
how his scholler could not answer to this question: Isaac had
two sons, Esau and Jacob; who was Jacob's father? Scogin said to
his scholler, Thou foole and asse-head! Dost thou not know Tom
Miller of Oseney? Yes, said the scholler! Then, said Scogin, thou
knowest he had two sonnes, Tom and Jacke; who is Jacke's father?
The scholler said, Tom Miller. Why, said Scogin, thou mightest
have said that Isaac was Jacob's father. Then said Scogin, Thou
shalt arise betime in the morning, and carry a letter to the
ordinary, and I trust he will admit thee before the orders shall
be given. The scholler rose up betime in the morning, and carried
the letter to the ordinary. The ordinary said, For Master Scogin's
sake I will oppose you no farther than I did yesterday. Isaac had
two sons, Esau and Jacob; who was Jacob's father? Marry, said the
scholler, I can tell you now that was Tom Miller of Oseney. Goe,
foole, goe, said the ordinary, and let thy master send thee no
more to me for orders, for it is impossible to make a foole a wise
man."
Scogin's scholar was, however, made a priest, and some of the stories
which follow describe the ludicrous manner in which he exercised the
priesthood. Two other stories illustrate Scogin's supposed position at
court:--
"_How Scogin told those that mocked him that he had a wall-eye._
"Scogin went up and down in the king's hall, and his hosen hung
downe, and his coat stood awry, and his hat stood a boonjour, so
every man did mocke Scogin. Some said he was a proper man, and did
wear his rayment cleanly; some said the foole could not put on his
owne rayment; some said one thing, and some said another. At last
Scogin said, Masters, you have praised me wel, but you did not
espy one thing in me. What is that, Tom? said the men. Marry, said
Scogin, I have a wall-eye. What meanest thou by that? said the
men. Marry, said Scogin, I have spyed a sort of knaves that doe
mocke me, and are worse fooles themselves."
"_How Scogin drew his sonne up and downe the court._
"After this Scogin went from the court, and put off his foole's
garments, and came to the court like an honest man, and brought
his son to the court with him, and within the court he drew his
sonne up and downe by the heeles. The boy cried out, and Scogin
drew the boy in every corner. At last every body had pity on the
boy, and said, Sir, what doe you meane, to draw the boy about the
court? Masters, said Scogin, he is my sonne, and I doe it for this
cause. Every man doth say, that man or child which is drawne up in
the court shall be the better as long as hee lives; and therefore
I will every day once draw him up and downe the court, after that
hee may come to preferment in the end."
The appreciation of a good joke cannot at this time have been very
great or very general, for Scogin's jests were wonderfully popular
during at least a century, from the first half of the sixteenth
century. They passed through many editions, and are frequently
alluded to by the writers of the Elizabethan age. The next individual
whose name appears at the head of a collection of his jests, was the
well-known wit, Richard Tarlton, who may be fairly considered as court
fool to Queen Elizabeth. His jests belong to the same class as those
of Skelton and Scogin, and if possible, they present a still greater
amount of dulness. Tarlton's jests were soon followed by the "merrie
conceited jests" of George Peele, the dramatist, who is described in
the title as "gentleman, sometimes student in Oxford;" and it is added
that in these jests "is shewed the course of his life, how he lived;
a man very well knowne in the city of London and elsewhere." In fact,
Peele's jests are chiefly curious for the striking picture they give
us of the wilder shades of town life under the reigns of Elizabeth and
James I.
During the period which witnessed the publication in England of these
books, many other jest-books appeared, for they had already become
an important class of English popular literature. Most of them were
published anonymously, and indeed they are mere compilations from the
older collections in Latin and French. All that was at all good, even
in the jests of Skelton, Scogin, Tarlton, and Peele, had been repeated
over and over again by the story-tellers and jesters of former ages.
Two of the earlier English collections have gained a greater celebrity
than the rest, chiefly through adventitious circumstances. One of
these, entitled "A Hundred Merry Tales," has gained distinction among
Shakespearian critics as the one especially alluded to by the great
poet in "Much Ado about Nothing," (Act ii., Sc. 1), where Beatrice
complains that somebody had said "that I had my good wit out of the
Hundred Merry Tales." The other collection alluded to was entitled
"Mery Tales, Wittie Questions, and Quicke Answeres, very pleasant
to be readde," and was printed in 1567. Its modern fame appears to
have arisen chiefly from the circumstance that, until the accidental
discovery of the unique and imperfect copy of the "Hundred Merry
Tales," it was supposed to be the book alluded to by Shakespeare.
Both these collections are mere compilations from the "Cent Nouvelles
Nouvelles," "Poggio," "Straparola," and other foreign works.[77] The
words put into the mouth of Beatrice are correctly descriptive of the
use made of these jest-books. It had become fashionable to learn out
of them jests and stories, in order to introduce them into polite
conversation, and especially at table; and this practice continued
to prevail until a very recent period. The number of such jest-books
published during the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries,
was quite extraordinary. Many of these were given anonymously; but many
also were put forth under names which possessed temporary celebrity,
such as Hobson the carrier, Killigrew the jester, the friend of Charles
II., Ben Jonson, Garrick, and a multitude of others. It is, perhaps,
unnecessary to remind the reader that the great modern representative
of this class of literature is the illustrious Joe Miller.
[77] A neat and useful edition of these two jest-books, with the
other most curious books of the same class, published during the
Elizabethan period, has recently been published in two volumes,
by Mr. W. C. Hazlitt.