What man I might not for lacke of cariage.
To cary mine owne selfe was all that euer I might,
And sometime for ease my sachell made I light."
ECLOGUE I.
Returning to England, after some years of residence abroad, with his mind
broadened and strengthened by foreign travel, and by the study of the best
authors, modern as well as ancient, Barclay entered the church, the only
career then open to a man of his training. With intellect, accomplishments,
and energy possessed by few, his progress to distinction and power ought to
have been easy and rapid, but it turned out quite otherwise. The road to
eminence lay by the "backstairs," the atmosphere of which he could not
endure. The ways of courtiers--falsehood, flattery, and fawning--he
detested, and worse, he said so, wherefore his learning, wit and eloquence
found but small reward. To his freedom of speech, his unsparing exposure
and denunciation of corruption and vice in the Court and the Church, as
well as among the people generally, must undoubtedly be attributed the
failure to obtain that high promotion his talents deserved, and would
otherwise have met with. The policy, not always a successful one in the
end, of ignoring an inconvenient display of talent, appears to have been
fully carried out in the instance of Barclay.
His first preferment appears to have been in the shape of a chaplainship in
the sanctuary for piety and learning founded at Saint Mary Otery in the
County of Devon, by Grandison, Bishop of Exeter; and to have come from
Thomas Cornish, Suffragan Bishop of Bath and Wells under the title of the
Bishop of Tyne, "meorum primitias laborum qui in lucem eruperunt," to whom,
doubtless out of gratitude for his first appointment, he dedicated "The
Ship of Fools." Cornish, amongst the many other good things he enjoyed,
held, according to Dugdale, from 1490 to 1511, the post of warden of the
College of S. Mary Otery, where Barclay no doubt had formed that regard and
respect for him which is so strongly expressed in the dedication.
A very eulogistic notice of "My Mayster Kyrkham," in the chapter "Of the
extorcion of Knyghtis," (Ship of Fools,) has misled biographers, who were
ignorant of Cornish's connection with S. Mary Otery, to imagine that
Barclay's use of "Capellanus humilimus" in his dedication was merely a
polite expression, and that Kyrkham, of whom he styles himself, "His true
seruytour his chaplayne and bedeman" was his actual ecclesiastical
superior. The following is the whole passage:--
"Good offycers ar good and commendable
And manly knyghtes that lyue in rightwysenes
But they that do nat ar worthy of a bable
Syns by theyr pryde pore people they oppres
My mayster Kyrkhan for his perfyte mekenes
And supportacion of men in pouertye
Out of my shyp shall worthely be fre
I flater nat I am his true seruytour
His chaplayne and his bede man whyle my lyfe shall endure
Requyrynge God to exalt hym to honour
And of his Prynces fauour to be sure
For as I haue sayd I knowe no creature
More manly rightwyse wyse discrete and sad
But thoughe he be good, yet other ar als bad."
That this Kyrkham was a knight and not an ecclesiastic is so plainly
apparent as to need no argument. An investigation into Devonshire history
affords the interesting information that among the ancient families of that
county there was one of this name, of great antiquity and repute, now no
longer existent, of which the most eminent member was a certain Sir John
Kirkham, whose popularity is evinced by his having been twice created High
Sheriff of the County, in the years 1507 and 1523. (Prince, Worthies of
Devon; Izacke, Antiquities of Exeter.)
That this was the Kirkham above alluded to, there can be no reasonable
doubt, and in view of the expression "My mayster Kyrkham," it may be
surmised that Barclay had the honour of being appointed by this worthy
gentleman to the office of Sheriff's or private Chaplain or to some similar
position of confidence, by which he gained the poet's respect and
gratitude. The whole allusion, however, might, without straining be
regarded as a merely complimentary one. The tone of the passage affords at
any rate a very pleasing glimpse of the mutual regard entertained by the
poet and his Devonshire neighbours.
After the eulogy of Kyrkham ending with "Yet other ar als bad," the poet
goes on immediately to give the picture of a character of the opposite
description, making the only severe personal reference in his whole
writings, for with all his unsparing exposure of wrong-doing, he carefully,
wisely, honourably avoided personality. A certain Mansell of Otery is
gibbeted as a terror to evil doers in a way which would form a sufficient
ground for an action for libel in these degenerate days.--Ship, II. 82.
"Mansell of Otery for powlynge of the pore
Were nat his great wombe, here sholde haue an ore
But for his body is so great and corporate
And so many burdens his brode backe doth charge
If his great burthen cause hym to come to late
Yet shall the knaue be Captayne of a barge
Where as ar bawdes and so sayle out at large
About our shyp to spye about for prayes
For therupon hath he lyued all his dayes."
It ought however to be mentioned that no such name as Mansell appears in
the Devonshire histories, and it may therefore be fictitious.
The ignorance and reckless living of the clergy, one of the chief objects
of his animadversion, receive also local illustration:
"For if one can flater, and beare a Hauke on his fist,
He shalbe made parson of Honington or Clist."
A good humoured reference to the Secondaries of the College is the only
other streak of local colouring we have detected in the Ship, except the
passage in praise of his friend and colleague Bishop, quoted at p. liii.
"Softe, fooles, softe, a little slacke your pace,
Till I haue space you to order by degree,
I haue eyght neyghbours, that first shall haue a place
Within this my ship, for they most worthy be,
They may their learning receyue costles and free,
Their walles abutting and ioyning to the scholes;
Nothing they can, yet nought will they learne nor see,
Therfore shall they guide this our ship of fooles."
In the comfort, quiet, and seclusion of the pleasant Devonshire retreat,
the "Ship" was translated in the year 1508, when he would be about
thirty-two, "by Alexander Barclay Preste; and at that tyme chaplen in the
sayde College," whence it may be inferred that he left Devon, either in
that year or the year following, when the "Ship" was published, probably
proceeding to London for the purpose of seeing it through the press.
Whether he returned to Devonshire we do not know; probably not, for his
patron and friend Cornish resigned the wardenship of St Mary Otery in 1511,
and in two years after died, so that Barclay's ties and hopes in the West
were at an end. At any rate we next hear of him in monastic orders, a monk
of the order of S. Benedict, in the famous monastery of Ely, where, as is
evident from internal proof, the Eclogues were written and where likewise,
as appears from the title, was translated "The mirrour of good maners," at
the desire of Syr Giles Alington, Knight.
It is about this period of his life, probably the period of the full bloom
of his popularity, that the quiet life of the poet and priest was
interrupted by the recognition of his eminence in the highest quarters, and
by a request for his aid in maintaining the honour of the country on an
occasion to which the eyes of all Europe were then directed. In a letter of
Sir Nicholas Vaux, busied with the preparations for the meeting of Henry
VIII., and Francis I., called the Field of the Cloth of Gold, to Wolsey, of
date 10th April 1520, he begs the cardinal to "send to them ... Maistre
Barkleye, the Black Monke and Poete, to devise histoires and convenient
raisons to florisshe the buildings and banquet house withal" (Rolls
Calendars of Letters and Papers, Henry VIII., III. pt. 1.). No doubt it was
also thought that this would be an excellent opportunity for the eulogist
of the Defender of the Faith to again take up the lyre to sing the glories
of his royal master, but no effort of his muse on the subject of this great
chivalric pageant has descended to us if any were ever penned.
Probably after this employment he did not return to Ely; with his position
or surroundings there he does not seem to have been altogether satisfied
("there many a thing is wrong," see p. lxix.); and afterwards, though in
the matter of date we are somewhat puzzled by the allusion of Bulleyn, an
Ely man, to his Franciscan habit, he assumed the habit of the Franciscans
at Canterbury, ('Bale MS. Sloan, f. 68,') to which change we may owe, if it
be really Barclay's, "The life of St Thomas of Canterbury."
Autumn had now come to the poet, but fruit had failed him. The advance of
age and his failure to obtain a suitable position in the Church began
gradually to weigh upon his spirits. The bright hopes with which he had
started in the flush of youth, the position he was to obtain, the influence
he was to wield, and the work he was to do personally, and by his writings,
in the field of moral and social reformation were all in sad contrast with
the actualities around. He had never risen from the ranks, the army was in
a state of disorganisation, almost of mutiny, and the enemy was more bold,
unscrupulous, and numerous than ever. It is scarcely to be wondered at
that, though not past fifty, he felt prematurely aged, that his youthful
enthusiasm which had carried him on bravely in many an attempt to instruct
and benefit his fellows at length forsook him and left him a prey to that
weakness of body, and that hopelessness of spirit to which he so
pathetically alludes in the Prologue to the Mirror of good Manners. All his
best work, all the work which has survived to our day, was executed before
this date. But the pen was too familiar to his hand to be allowed to drop.
His biographers tell us "that when years came on he spent his time mostly
in pious matters, and in reading and writing histories of the Saints." A
goodly picture of a well-spent old age. The harness of youth he had no
longer the spirit and strength to don, the garments of age he gathered
resignedly and gracefully about him.
On the violent dissolution of the Monasteries in 1539, when their inmates,
the good and bad, the men of wisdom and the "fools," were alike cast adrift
upon a rock-bound and stormy coast, the value of the patronage which his
literary and personal popularity had brought him, was put to the test, and
in the end successfully, though after considerable, but perhaps not to be
wondered at, delay. His great patrons, the Duke of Norfolk, the Earl of
Kent, Bishop Cornish, and probably also Sir Giles Alington, were all dead,
and he had to rely on newer and necessarily weaker ties. But after waiting,
till probably somewhat dispirited, fortune smiled at last. Two handsome
livings were presented to him in the same year, both of which he apparently
held at the same time, the vicarage of Much Badew in Essex, by the
presentation of Mr John Pascal, to which he was instituted on February 7th,
1546, holding it (according to the Lansdowne MS. (980 f. 101), in the
British Museum) till his death; and the vicarage of S. Mathew at Wokey, in
Somerset, on March 30th of the same year. Wood dignifies him with the
degree of doctor of divinity at the time of his presentation to these
preferments.
That he seems to have accepted quietly the gradual progress of the reformed
religion during the reign of Edward VI., has been a cause of wonder to
some. It would certainly have been astonishing had one who was so unsparing
in his exposure of the flagrant abuses of the Romish Church done otherwise.
Though personally disinclined to radical changes his writings amply show
his deep dissatisfaction with things as they were. This renders the more
improbable the honours assigned him by Wadding (Scriptores Ordinis Minorum,
1806, p. 5), who promotes him to be Suffragan Bishop of Bath and Wells, and
Bale, who, in a slanderous anecdote, the locale of which is also Wells,
speaks of him as a chaplain of Queen Mary's, though Mary did not ascend the
throne till the year after his death. As these statements are nowhere
confirmed, it is not improbable that their authors have fallen into error
by confounding the poet Barclay, with a Gilbert Berkeley, who became Bishop
of Bath and Wells in 1559. One more undoubted, but tardy, piece of
preferment was awarded him which may be regarded as an honour of some
significance. On the 30th April 1552, the Dean and Chapter of Canterbury,
London, presented him to the Rectory of All Hallows, Lombard Street, but
the well-deserved promotion came too late to be enjoyed. A few weeks after,
and before the 10th June, at which date his will was proved, he died, as
his biographers say, "at a very advanced age;" at the good old age of
seventy-six, as shall be shown presently, at Croydon where he had passed
his youth, and there in the Church he was buried. "June 10th 1552,
Alexander Barkley sepult," (Extract from the Parish Register, in Lyson's
Environs of London).
A copy of his will, an extremely interesting and instructive document, has
been obtained from Doctors' Commons, and will be found appended. It bears
in all its details those traits of character which, from all that we
otherwise know, we are led to associate with him. In it we see the earnest,
conscientious minister whose first thought is of the poor, the loyal
churchman liberal in his support of the house of God, the kind relative in
his numerous and considerate bequests to his kith and kin, the amiable,
much loved man in the gifts of remembrance to his many friends, and the
pious Christian in his wishes for the prayers of his survivors "to
Almightie God for remission of my synnes, and mercy upon my soule."
Barclay's career and character, both as a churchman and a man of letters,
deserve attention and respect from every student of our early history and
literature. In the former capacity he showed himself diligent, honest, and
anxious, at a time when these qualities seemed to have been so entirely
lost to the church as to form only a subject for clerical ridicule. In the
latter, the same qualities are also prominent, diligence, honesty, bold
outspokenness, an ardent desire for the pure, the true, and the natural,
and an undisguised enmity to everything false, self-seeking, and vile.
Everything he did was done in a pure way, and to a worthy end.
Bale stands alone in casting aspersions upon his moral character,
asserting, as Ritson puts it, "in his bigoted and foul-mouthed way," that
"he continued a hater of truth, and under the disguise of celibacy a filthy
adulterer to the last;" and in his Declaration of Bonner's articles (1561,
fol. 81), he condescends to an instance to the effect that "Doctoure
Barkleye hadde greate harme ones of suche a visitacion, at Wellys, before
he was Quene Maryes Chaplayne. For the woman whome he so religiouslye
visited did light him of all that he had, sauinge his workinge tolas. For
the whiche acte he had her in prison, and yet coulde nothing recouer
againe." Whether this story be true of any one is perhaps doubtful, and, if
true of a Barclay, we are convinced that he is not our author. It may have
arisen as we have seen from a mistake as to identity. But apart from the
question of identity, we have nothing in support of the slander but Bale's
"foul-mouthed" assertion, while against it we have the whole tenor and aim
of Barclay's published writings. Everywhere he inculcates the highest and
purest morality, and where even for that purpose he might be led into
descriptions of vice, his disgust carries him past what most others would
have felt themselves justified in dealing with. For example, in the chapter
of "Disgysyd folys" he expressly passes over as lightly as possible what
might to others have proved a tempting subject:
"They disceyue myndes chaste and innocent
With dyuers wayes whiche I wyll nat expres
Lyst that whyle I labour this cursyd gyse to stynt
I myght to them mynyster example of lewdnes
And therfore in this part I shall say les
Than doth my actour."
Elsewhere he declares:
"for my boke certaynly
I haue compyled: for vertue and goodnes
And to reuyle foule synne and vyciousnes"
But citation is needless; there is not a page of his writings which will
not supply similar evidence, and our great early moralist may, we think, be
dismissed from Court without a stain on his character.
Indeed to his high pitched morality, he doubtless owed in some degree the
great and extended popularity of his poetical writings in former times and
their neglect in later. Sermons and "good" books were not yet in the
sixteenth century an extensive branch of literature, and "good" people
could without remorse of conscience vary their limited theological reading
by frowning over the improprieties and sins of their neighbours as depicted
in the "Ship," and joining, with a serious headshaking heartiness, in the
admonitions of the translator to amendment, or they might feel
"strengthened" by a glance into the "Mirrour of good Maners," or edified by
hearing of the "Miseryes of Courtiers and Courtes of all princes in
generall," as told in the "Eclogues."
Certain it is that these writings owed little of their acceptance to
touches of humour or satire, to the gifts of a poetical imagination, or the
grace of a polished diction. The indignation of the honest man and the
earnestness of the moralist waited not for gifts and graces. Everything
went down, hard, rough, even uncouth as it stood, of course gaining in
truth and in graphic power what it wants in elegance. Still, with no
refinement, polish or elaboration, there are many picturesque passages
scattered throughout these works which no amount of polishing could have
improved. How could a man in a rage be better touched off than thus ("Ship"
I. 182, 15).
"This man malycious whiche troubled is with wrath
Nought els soundeth but the hoorse letter R."
The passion of love is so graphically described that it is difficult to
imagine our priestly moralist a total stranger to its power, (I. 81).
"For he that loueth is voyde of all reason
Wandrynge in the worlde without lawe or mesure
In thought and fere sore vexed eche season
And greuous dolours in loue he must endure
No creature hym selfe, may well assure
From loues soft dartis: I say none on the grounde
But mad and folysshe bydes he whiche hath the wounde
Aye rennynge as franatyke no reason in his mynde
He hath no constaunce nor ease within his herte
His iyen ar blynde, his wyll alwaye inclyned
To louys preceptes yet can nat he departe
The Net is stronge, the sole caught can nat starte
The darte is sharpe, who euer is in the chayne
Can nat his sorowe in vysage hyde nor fayne"