John Gower (1330-1408)
Alrighty, let's have a casual chat about this dude named John Gower. He was an English poet who lived around the same time as some other famous poets like William Langland and the Pearl Poet. He was also buddies with Geoffrey Chaucer, so you know he was part of the cool literary crew.
Now, Gower is known for three major works: the Mirour de l'Omme, Vox Clamantis, and Confessio Amantis. These poems were written in French, Latin, and English, and they all explore moral and political themes. Gower was all about courtly love and moral allegory, and he had a big influence on other poets of his time. Back in the day, his reputation was on par with Chaucer, but it kinda faded away until the 20th century when people started getting interested in his stuff again.
Mirour de l'Omme (1380)
Let's break down his major works. First up, we got the Mirour de l'Omme. It's a lengthy poem in French with around 29,945 lines. Gower dives deep into the theme of man's salvation. He talks about the Devil and Sin having these seven daughters that represent different sins like Pride, Envy, Ire, Sloth, Avarice, Gluttony, and Lechery. Reason and Conscience try to save humanity, but it's not easy. The second part of the poem brings in the seven Virtues to fight against the Devil's forces. In the final part, Gower takes a hard look at the corruption in society, from the Church to the State to the Workers. It's a heavy piece that explores the need for repentance and the intercession of the Virgin.
Vox Clamantis (1381)
Next, we have Vox Clamantis. This is a Latin poem of 10,265 lines in elegiac couplets. poem in elegiac couplets. Gower was inspired by the Peasants' Revolt of 1381, and he goes on to describe the rebellion in vivid detail. But here's the thing, Gower doesn't really sympathize with the rebels. Nope, he's more of a spokesperson for the landed gentry, the rich folks. He portrays the leaders of the revolt as bloodthirsty beasts or stubborn farm animals. However, he does acknowledge the importance of listening to the voice of the people, which he sees as a reflection of God. It's an interesting mix of old and new ideas, touching on social democracy.
Confessio Amantis: The Confessio (begun about 1386) runs to some 33,000 line:
Last but not least, we got Confessio Amantis. This one's written in English and it's a confession of love by the main character, Amans, to a priest of Venus named Genius. The priest teaches Amans about courtly and Christian love, and within this framework, Gower weaves in a collection of love stories. These tales come from classical and medieval sources and are told with a lot of tenderness. Some of these stories are inspired by Ovid's Metamorphoses, making it one of the first appearances of classical myths in English literature. It's a poetic exploration of love and morality that still resonates today.
John Wycliffe (1330-1384, also John Wyclif)
About:
Alright, folks, let's talk about John Wycliffe, the dude who lived way back in the 14th century and paved the way for the Protestant Reformation. He was a theologian, priest, and scholar who wasn't too thrilled with how the medieval Church was doing its thing. In fact, he called out a bunch of the same issues that later reformers would tackle.
Now, back in those days, the Holy Roman Catholic Church had all the power in Europe. It had already split into the Western Catholic Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church, but that didn't change much in terms of the Church's influence. They were all up in secular political matters and not so focused on being, well, religious.
But Wycliffe wasn't having it. He was educated at Oxford and had some serious objections to the Church's abuses. He challenged the hierarchy and believed that the Christian scriptures should be the ultimate authority, not the pope. He even came up with this whole idea of two domains - an earthly Church and an idealized Church. Yeah, he was into some deep thinking, drawing inspiration from the wise words of Saint Augustine of Hippo.
Luckily, Wycliffe had some powerful friends in high places and the Western Schism, where there were two popes doing their own thing, caused enough chaos to distract the Church from going after him. His followers, known as Lollards, helped him translate the Bible into Middle English, spreading his ideas far and wide.
Now, it's worth mentioning that Wycliffe did get into some trouble with Church authorities in England. He lost his teaching gig at Oxford, but hey, he never got officially kicked out or labeled a heretic. However, after he kicked the bucket, things changed. The Church didn't take too kindly to his ideas, and in 1415, they decreed him a heretic. They even dug up his remains in 1428, burned them, and tossed the ashes into the River Swift. Talk about holding a grudge!
But here's the cool part: Wycliffe's ideas didn't die with him. Other reformers, like Jan Hus and Martin Luther, picked up where he left off and took things even further. They sparked the Protestant Reformation, which shook up the Church and its power from 1517 to 1648.
Lollard
Alright, class, let's take a trip back to late medieval England and meet the Lollards. These were the peeps who followed John Wycliffe, a cool dude from Oxford University who had some pretty radical ideas. His thoughts were like a sneak peek of the Protestant Reformation that would happen in the 16th century.
Now, the name "Lollard" was actually a mean nickname given to them. It came from the Middle Dutch word "lollaert," which means "mumbler." Some folks thought these Lollards were all about putting on a pious act while secretly believing in some heretical stuff.
Wycliffe, back in the 1370s, started getting more and more rebellious with his religious views. He didn't buy into the whole transubstantiation thing and believed that preaching and the Bible should be the real deal in Christian teachings. He even went as far as saying that the pope had no legit biblical backing and called him the Antichrist. He was stoked about the 14th-century papal schism because he thought it was a sign that the papacy would eventually crumble.
Now, old Wycliffe faced some heat for his ideas and had to peace out from Oxford in 1378. But here's the twist - he never actually faced trial for heresy. He kept on writing and preaching until he passed away in 1384.
Translation of the Bible of John Wycliffe:
So, picture this: it's the 1380s, and Wycliffe is holed up in his rooms at Queen's College, working hard on his master plan. He wants to translate the Bible and gather a group of preachers who will spread the word of God to the people. Now, he's not really the type to go out and preach himself because he's too influenced by the medieval learning system called Scholasticism. But that doesn't stop him from getting two translations of the Bible done, one more casual and easier to understand than the other. Why did he put in so much effort, you ask? Well, it seems that he believed that the Bible was essential in replacing the Church's authority, which had fallen out of favor, and giving everyone who could read access to God's law. He also believed in the power of preaching, which eventually led to the formation of a group called the Lollards. Now, we're not entirely sure how involved Wycliffe was in creating the Lollards, but one thing's for sure: they spread his controversial ideas far and wide.
Fast forward to 1381, Wycliffe finally retires to Lutterworth. And wouldn't you know it, that's when the Peasants' Revolt breaks out. Now, Wycliffe's social teachings didn't directly cause the revolt because they were mostly known to the educated folks. But there's no doubt where his sympathies lied - he had a soft spot for the deserving poor. During the revolt, the archbishop of Canterbury was murdered, and his successor was none too pleased with Wycliffe. The powers that be held a synod in London and condemned many of Wycliffe's works. His followers in Oxford surrendered, and all his writings were banned. In the midst of all this, Wycliffe suffered a stroke in Lutterworth in 1382, but that didn't stop him from writing like a madman until he had another stroke and passed away in December 1384.
Now, here's the thing, my friends: opinions about Wycliffe vary. Some folks consider him a badass reformer, fighting against all the messed up stuff in medieval times. But hey, there are others who challenge this view and call it the delusion of overly enthusiastic fans. So, after 600 years, we're left with the question: "Who was the real John Wycliffe?" Guess what? It's a tough one to answer.
John Lydgate of Bury (1370 -1451)
About Lydgate:
So, let's talk about this dude named John Lydgate of Bury. He was a monk and a poet, born in a place called Lidgate, near Haverhill in England. Back in the day, when he was just a youngin', he joined the Benedictine abbey in Bury St. Edmunds. He eventually became a priest in 1397. He spent some time in London and Paris, but for the most part, he was hanging out in Bury. Oh, except for a little period from 1421 to 1432 when he was the head honcho at Hatfield Broad Oak in Essex.
Now, let's talk about Lydgate's poetry skills. This guy was a writing machine! He churned out an insane amount of lines, like around 145,000 of 'em. That's a whole lot of words! He tried his hand at all sorts of genres, like the ones Chaucer was into, except for the naughty ones like fabliau. One of his big works is the Troy Book, a super long translation of a Latin writer's account of the Trojan War. He went all out, going beyond Chaucer's tales and giving us an epic saga.
So, back in the day, when John Lydgate kicked the bucket in the 15th century, he was the hottest poet around. Seriously, everyone wanted a piece of his poetic brilliance. At that time, the great Geoffrey Chaucer had already passed away in 1400, and John Gower followed in 1408. The only poet who could really hold a candle to Lydgate was Thomas Hoccleve, who sadly left this world in 1426.
But here's the thing: from the second half of the century all the way through the 16th century, and even into the early 1600s, Lydgate, Chaucer, and Gower were like the dream team of poets. They were praised and celebrated by big-shot wordsmiths like Gavin Douglas, William Dunbar, Stephen Hawes, Sir David Lindsey, and John Skelton. Even the lesser-known poets sang their praises. These dudes were on fire!
But you know how it goes, right? Fame and glory are fleeting. By the middle of the 17th century, Lydgate's star had faded, and people barely even remembered his name. The poor guy was practically forgotten. In the 18th century, only a few writers bothered to mention him, but luckily those few, including Thomas Gray and Thomas Warton, had some nice things to say about him.
Major works of the Poet:
Lydgate was a total writing machine, my friends. This dude churned out a whopping 145,000 lines of verse! Talk about productivity! He didn't mess around with prose too much, except for this short piece called The Serpent of Division, which is all about Julius Caesar.
Now, let's dive into his poems. Lydgate's got quite the range. He goes from these massive narrative works like The Troy Book and The Falle of Princis, to shorter poems that are just a few lines long. One of his longer poems, Reason and Sensuality, is an allegory about staying pure and chaste. It's got some beautiful descriptions of nature and is written in a sweet couplet style.
Speaking of The Troy Book, Lydgate started working on it in 1412 under the orders of the Prince of Wales, later known as Henry V. He finished it up in 1421. It's actually a translation of Guido delle Colonne's Historia troiana. And after that, he wrote The Siege of Thebes, which takes inspiration from a lost French romance and some Boccaccio tales. Quite the creative mind, that Lydgate.
Oh, and get this: Lydgate was a big fan of Chaucer. He admired the heck out of Chaucer's work and even imitated his style of writing. In 1426, he translated Guillaume de Deguilleville's Le Pèlerinage de la vie humaine into English as The Pilgrimage of the Life of Man. It's a serious allegory, folks. And between 1431 and 1438, Lydgate was all about The Falle of Princis, which he translated from a French version of Boccaccio's work. He also dabbled in love allegories like The Complaint of the Black Knight and The Temple of Glass, wrote saints' lives, retold Aesop's fables, and crafted plenty of poems for special occasions. The guy covered it all, from religious to secular topics.
So there you have it, my friends. Lydgate was a writing powerhouse with a wide range of works. He was inspired by Chaucer, tackled big epic tales, and even explored love and allegory. Get ready to be amazed by the sheer creativity and diversity of Lydgate's writing!
Thomas Malory
About Malory:
Yo, let's talk about this dude named Thomas Malory, or maybe Sir Thomas Malory, we're not entirely sure. But what we do know is that he's famous for writing a book called Le Morte Darthur. It's an epic tale about King Arthur and his crew of knights, known as the Round Table. This was the first-ever prose account of Arthurian legends in English.
Now, Malory himself was a bit of a mystery. He referred to himself as a "knight prisoner" and asked folks to pray for his deliverance in life and after he kicks the bucket. We think he might've been Sir Thomas Malory, who inherited some fancy estates back in the 1400s. But here's where it gets interesting.
Instead of leading a peaceful life as a country gentleman, Malory went down a darker path. He became a criminal! He gathered a gang of 26 dudes and tried to murder the Duke of Buckingham. He stole livestock, extorted money, and even faced rape charges not once, but twice. And get this, he even led a small army to attack a monastery, terrorizing the monks and stealing their cash and valuables. Talk about a wild ride!
Naturally, he got caught and spent most of the 1450s in various prisons. But get this, he managed to escape not once, but twice! And on two other occasions, someone bailed him out. It was a crazy time in England. The government was weak, the king had his moments of insanity, and chaos reigned. There was even a full-blown civil war, known as the Wars of the Roses, between the houses of York and Lancaster.
By 1462, Malory was finally released from prison and joined the Earl of Warwick in fighting for the Yorkists. But when Warwick switched sides, Malory followed suit, which turned out to be a bad move. He ended up back in prison when the Yorkist king, Edward IV, didn't grant him a pardon. Dude just couldn't catch a break.
But it was during his second prison stint in Newgate Prison that Malory found a new hobby—writing! He started working on his masterpiece, the "whole book of King Arthur and his noble knights of the Round Table." This was his magnum opus, and it eventually got published under the title Le Morte Darthur by a guy named William Caxton in 1485. Unfortunately, Malory's journey came to an end shortly after. When the Lancastrians briefly regained power, he was set free, but five months later, he passed away and was buried near the prison where he spent so much time.
Le Morte Darthur:
Alright, peeps, let's dive into the world of Le Morte Darthur! It's a legendary tale written by Malory around 1470, and printed by William Caxton in 1485. The only surviving manuscript predates Caxton's version and is housed in London's British Library. This epic story retells the adventures of King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table, starting from Arthur's birth.
Malory based his work on French romances, but he put his own spin on it. Instead of just focusing on courtly love, he highlights the brotherhood of the knights and the conflicts that arise due to the scandalous affair between Lancelot and Guinevere. Yep, that affair ends up destroying the fellowship and causing some serious loyalty issues.
So, what's the story all about? Well, it's all about King Arthur, Queen Guinevere, and their crew of knights on a quest for the Holy Grail. This mystical object has some serious magical powers, and everyone's after it. The tale spans 21 books and covers everything from the founding of Arthur's kingdom and the creation of the Round Table to the epic adventures of individual knights, the hunt for the Holy Grail, and ultimately, the death of Arthur and the downfall of his kingdom.
In the third book, we get to witness the wedding of Arthur and Guinevere. Arthur spills his heart out to his buddy Merlin, confessing his love for Guenever, who happens to be the daughter of King Leodegrance from the land of Cameliard. Oh, and Leodegrance is the one who has that famous Round Table. Talk about an epic love story, right?
Malory wrote this masterpiece during a time of political turmoil known as the War of the Roses. Despite the chaos, there was a resurgence of interest in chivalry and the glory days of Britain's past. The noble values of loyalty and honor depicted in the adventures of Arthur's knights were exactly what people craved. Malory even compared the behavior of his characters to the nobles of his own time, criticizing their lack of appreciation for loyal service. You see, Malory himself was stuck in jail when he wrote this, so he had some personal grievances to address.
Right after Malory finished writing Le Morte D'Arthur, he kicked the bucket. But how the manuscript ended up with publisher William Caxton is a mystery. Now, this Caxton dude is a big deal. He's known for publishing some of the greatest works in English, like the poetry of Geoffrey Chaucer. Usually, Caxton would give a proper introduction to the author and the work in the prologue. But when he published Le Morte D'Arthur in 1485, things were a bit dicey. See, the War of the Roses was still raging, and Caxton didn't want to stir up any drama by mentioning Malory too much. The guy had some serious beef with the law, getting denied pardons multiple times. That kind of notoriety wouldn't help book sales, you know? Plus, the book itself had some connections to the war, which Caxton probably wanted to downplay.
Malory grew up during the Hundred Years' War, a time of constant conflict in Britain. Le Morte D'Arthur paints a picture of a messed-up world filled with violence and chaos. But then Arthur and his knights come along and bring justice and peace to the land. Unfortunately, humans being humans, this newfound harmony can't last forever. The world falls back into bloodshed and disorder, just like what happened in Malory's time with the War of the Roses. Camelot's unity crumbles just like England's did, thanks to Lancelot and Guinevere's betrayal and Arthur's inability to deal with it. The kingdom is ultimately destroyed. But here's the kicker—Malory never says Arthur died. Nope, he just went off to Avalon to heal his wounds. And that's where the story ends.
The reason Le Morte D'Arthur has stayed popular is because, in the end, it's a story of hope. Despite all the chaos and destruction, there's still a glimmer of hope. Pretty cool, huh?
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