Philip Van Artevelde: A Dramatic Romance, in Two Parts

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Preface

As this work, consisting of two Plays and an Interlude, is equal in length to about six such plays as are adapted to representation, it Js almost unnecessary to say that it was n ot intended for the s tage. It is properly an Historical Bomance, cast i n a dramatic and rhy thmjftftl form . ^ Historic tr uth is pre served in it, as far as th e material events are concerned— of course with the usual exception of

as inTftjpftqniTft^ jp dramatic compositi on.

This is, perhaps, all the explanation which is absolutely required in this place ; but as there may be readers who feel an inclination to learn something of an author's tastes in poetry before they proceed to the perusal of what he has written, I will take the opportunity which a preface affords me of expressing my opinions upon two or three of the most prominent features in the present state of poetical literature; and I shall do so the more gladly because I am apprehensive that without some previous intimations of the kind, my work might occasion disappointment

PREFACE.

to the admirers of that highl y coloured poetry w hich hfl.s^hftftn pop ular in tHSaJa^er ypn™. _Jfjn the st rictures which r w ith thia nhjft^ T may hn led to ma ke upon^ authors of great reputation . I should appear^tojbe wantin g in the respect due to prevalent opinions, — opinions which f from the very c ircumstance of theirjpr^alence, must h ft assumed tn he> partfllrftp by many to whom deference is owing, — I t rust that it will be attributed, jLotjto any^spirit of d ogm atism, fafless to a love of disparagement ; but sim ply to the desir e of exercisi ng, with a dis creet ..fre edom, th at humble i ndependence o f judgment inmattfirs-iiLtaste, whi ch it is for the advantage of li terature that^iery

man Of letters sfrnnlrl maintain.

My views have not, in truth, been founded upon any predisposition to depre ciate the popular poetry of thejtifflgs^It will always produce !T^dwei , fulr~impression upon very young readers, and I scarcely think that it can have been more admired by any than by myself, when I was included in that category. I have not ceased to admire this poetry in its degree ; and the interlude which I have inserted between these plays will show, that, to a limited extent, I have been desirous even to cultivate and employ it : but I am unable jbo concur in opini on with those who would place it jn the forem ost T anks of the art : nor does it seem to have been capable of sustaining itself quite firmly in the very high degree of public estimation in which it was held at its first appearance and for some years afterwards. The poetical taste to which some of the popular poets o f tnJscentury gave birth, appears

PREFACE. 3d

at presen t to maintain a more unshaken dominion ove r the writers of po etry,. ihan_Qver its readers.

Thes e poets were characterise d bjJ great sensitwlllj and fer vour, hy a profusion of imag ery, hy force and beautyoT language, and hy a versification peculiarly easy and adroit, and abounding in that iori of melody which^bjjtsvery oFvious cadences, makes itself most p leasing to an unpractised e ar., They exhibited , therefore, many of the most attractive graces and char ms ofpoetry — i ts vital warmth not less than its external effipeJiishme nts ; and had not the admiration which

*lifty_jgY»itft f | i-anApA tn prnftnr»ft an inrKffnwnnnn _±n

higher^ graver. and more various endowments , no one w ould h a ve said that it was, in any evil sense* excessivej But from this unbounded indulgence in the mere luxuries of poetry, has there not ensued a want of a dequate appreciation for its intellectual and i mmortal part ? I confess that such se ems to me t o have been both the actual and the nat ural result ; »Tid_ L oan hardly believe the public taste to have be en^in a healthy state whilst the most app roved poetry of past timesV was almost unread . "We may now perhaps be turning Dack to it ; but it was not, as far as I can judge, till more than a quarter of a century had expired, lihat any siffns of re-ac tion could be di scerned. Till then, the elder luminaries oj[ our pngtiflftl literature were obscured or little regarded ; and we sate with d azzled eyes at a high festival of po etry, where, as at the funeral of Arvalan r thejtorchlig ht put out the sta r-light.

So keen was the sense of what the new poets

PREFACE.

possessed, that it never seemed to be felt that anything was deficient in them. Yet their deficiencies were not unimportant. " \jTfrey_jwanted, in the fi rst place, subject-matter. A feeling came more easily to^the m than a reflec1ron7^n d~an~ image was always at handwhen a thought was n ot forthcoming. Either they did not look upon mankindUSh bbservanlTeyes, or they did not feel it to Tie any p art of their vocation t o turn what they saw to acc ount.yit did not belong to po etry, in their apprehensj on^jto thread the mazes of li fe in a ll itsdasses^jid un der al l its circumstances, common as well as i rommtic^and, seeing all things, to iitfejEand to.instrncti on *ke-gontrary T it was to stand a loof from everything that is plain and true; to have litt le concern with what is ratio nal or wise ; it was to be , like music, a moving and enchanting art, acting upon the fan cy, the affections, the passio ns, Tm t scarcelycon nected with the exe rcise of the intellectual fa culties. T These writers had, indeed, adopted a tone of language which is hardly consistent with the state of mind in which a man makes use of his understanding. The realities of nature, and the truths which the y suggest, woul d have seemed cold'andtncorigruous, irimfl fored to miT~with In^gfrfMna ojT impassioned sentim ent and glowi ng imagery in which they poured th emselves forth. Spirit was not to H5e debased by any jmion^jyjth matter^ in the£~ejKsibhB ; dwelling, as t hey did f i n a region nf jwrfnqa.1 sentiment which did not permit the m_to walk upon th e common earth or to breathe the common air. \

Writ ers, how eyer^who se app eal is made so exclu-

PKEFACE.

sivel v to the excitabilities of mankind, will not find it possibl e to work upon thsnLJ&ntinuously without a di minishing effect. Poetry of which sense is no t the basis , — sense rapt or inspired by pa ssion, not bewild ered or subverted, — poetry over wh ich thejpassionate re ason of Man does not presi de in all its strength as wel l as all its ardours, — tho ugh it may be excellent of its kjnd^ wjU not l™*g h ft reputeJTtat^ pof+iy of the highest order. { It may move the feelings and charm the fancy ; but failing to satisfy the understanding, it will not take permanent possession of the strong-holds of fame. Lord Byron, in giving the most admirable example of this species of poetry, undoubtedly gave the strongest impulse to the appetite for it. Yet this impulse is losing its force, and even Lord Byron himself repudiated, in the latter years of his life, the poetical taste which he had espoused and propagated. The constitution of this writer's mind is not difficult to understand, and sufficiently explains the growth of his taste.

Had he united a philosophical intellect with hi s pecuSarly poetic al temperament, he would pr obably rfthftftrrfche^T^tfigt p nftt nf hip age. But nojaan can^V* a very gre at poet who is not a lso a great philosopher. V^\ Whatever Lord Byron's natural powers may have V s been, idleness and light reading, an early acquisition of popularity by the exercise of a single talent, and an absorbing and contracting self-love, confined the field of his operations within narrow limits. He was in knowledge merely a man of Belles-lettres ; nor does he appear at any time to have betaken himself to such

XLV PREFACE.

studies as would have tended to the cultivation and di scipline of his reasoning powers or the enlargement ofhis min d. He had, however,~not~bnly : "an" ardent and brilliant imagination, out a clear undemanding, ano ^the signs both ofj^Sat~Ee"jad and "of what~~he wa nted are appa rent in his poetry. There is apparent m i t a working a n J moulding spirit^ witE~a~want of material to work up, — a great command of language, with a want of any views or treSeclaony ffiiich, if iiTiftn/hftj]]fl|7Pfl hy~iTn«.gprj_nr_ unassociated with pas-> sionate feelings, it would be very much worth while to express* Page after page throughout his earlier poems, there is the sa me uninform ed energy at work upon the same old feelings ; andTwhen ~at last^he became conscJouiTthat a theme walTwantmgTit was at a periocTof life when no man will consent to put himself^to school ; he could change his style and manner, but he could not change his moral and intel^tua^being, nof~eitend the" sphere of his contemplations to subjects which were alien in spirit from those with which he had been hitherto, whether in Hie or in "literature, exclusively conversant : in short, his mind was past the period of growth ; there was (to use a phrase of Ben Jonson's) an mgenistitium, or wit-stand: he felt, apparently, that the food on which he had fed his mind had not been invigorating ; but he could no longer bear a stronger diet, and he turned his genius loose to rove over the surface of society, content with such light observations upon life and manners as any acute man of the world might collect upon his travels, and conscious that he

PREFACE. XY

could recommend them to attention by such wit, brilliancy, dexterity of phrase, and versatility of fancy, as no one but himself could command.

His misanthropy was probably, like his tenderness, not practical, but merely matter of imagination, assumed for purposes of effect. But whilst his ignorance of the better elements of human nature may be believed to have been in a great measure affected, it is not to be supposed that he knew of them with a large and appreciating knowledge. Tet that knowledge of human nature which is exclusive of what is good in it, is, to say the least, as shallow and imperfect as that which is exclusive of what is evil. There is no such thing as philos ophical mija nthronyf>and if a misanthropical ^pTrhV^it_genuinfi qj? affected, be found top grvadea ma n i 's writing that n pirit may be~poeticalas far as it goes, butb eing at f ault in its phflblioph^j tjwiU neve r, in the lon g mn nf time, approve_ jfielf equal to th e institution of a poetical f ame of the highest and moat durable order.

These imperfections are especially observable in the portraitures of human character (if such it can be called) which are most prominent in Lord Byron's works. T%fl iqjiot hing in them of the mixture and m odification, — nothing of the compo site tabric which Nature has assigned t o Man! They exhibit rather p assions personified than pe rsons impassioned. ^ J3nt there is a yet worse detent in fliem — LorxUByron's co nception of a hero is an evidence T not only, of s canty materials of know ledge from which to conatruct the ideal of a human being, but also of a want of xvi PREFACE.

perception of w hat is gr eat_or pohle in— flwrTratirrft- His heroes are creatures ab andoned to their passions, and essentially, therefore, weak_ of mind. ^ Strip the m of the THTofTwjgtPry and thft trapping of pofttrjj resojye^fSem- into thoir pla i n rea l ities, an d th ey_are such beings as, in the eyes of a reader o f ma sculine jiidgTffpfi^ yrcnM o^mj\\f e^ite t>n sentiment -of admjratiojy, ^ran if t^y djdLjigt provoke contempt. When the conduct and feelings attributed to them are reduced into prose, and brou ght to the test o f a rational ^consideration, they mu st be perceive! to be beingsin whom there is no strength except that of theliLante nsely selfish passions, — in whom " all is vam'tyj thftir ftTe rtiong ^ be5g ~Ibr~vanity uiifler the nanig_o f love or revenge, a ndTtheir sufferings for vanity undeji frhft name of jnyfa. If such bein gs as these are to be regarded as heroical, where in human nature. ar^weTo~look for what 5~low in sentiment or infirm nTcharacter ?

HowlaobIy~opposite to Lord Byron's ideal was that conception of an heroical character which took life and immortality from the hand of Shakspeare : —

" Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core ; aye, in my heart of heart"

Lord Byron's genius, however, was powerful enough to cast a highly romantic colouring over these puerile creations, and to impart the charms of forcible expression, fervid feeling, and beautiful imagery, to thoughts in themselves not more remarkable for

PREFACE. XVU

novelty than for soundness. T he public re quired nothing more ; and if he himself was brought latterly to a senBu uf his deficiencies of knowledge and_gen£ral in tellectua l flu1tiv«.tion ~ it must have been more by th e effect of time in «n far maturing hk very vigorous un derstanding than byany correction from, .without. No writer of his age has had less of the benefits of adverse criticism. His ow n judgment and that of his readers have been leTt equally without check or guidance'j r and the decline in pop ular estimation which he has suffered for these last few years may be rather attributed to a satiated appetite on t he 1 part of the publicj than to a" rectified taste : Tor those who have ceased j fco, admire his poetry" so arde ntly as they did do _not appear in general to have, tranafipirre d their adm iration to any worthier object.

~~^for can it be said that anything better, or indeed anything half so good, has been subsequently produced. The poetry of the day, whilst it is greatly inferior in quality, continues to be like his in kind. It consists of little more than a poetical diction, an arrangement of words implying a sensitive state of mi ni, and therefore more or jess calculated" to excite corresponding associations, tho ugh, for_J;he m ost part, n oj ^p f rtiiup n t l y te n . uy mnttrr in hnnd ; a diction which add resses it self to the sentient, not t he~percrpient, properties of thej nind, and displays merely sYmbols^or types nf fcftlfnga which migTit exist wittij ?qual force in_ a being, the moat barren of undessianding.

b

PKEFACE.

It may* be proper, however, to take a distinction betw^^tfae^d^^ poetry, and that

whM»hl!m^lhfl considered ar^Hg^ffairnTig, either in .Jhe first o r seco nd generation, of the genius of Mr. Shelley. Mr. Shelley~was a person" of a more powernTTanxt'expansive imagination than Lord Byron, but he was inferior to him in those practical abilities which (unacceptable as such an opinion may be to those who believe themselves to be writing under the guidance of inspiration) are essential to the production of consummate poetry. The editor of Mr. Shelley's posthumous poems apologises for the publication of some fragments in a very incomplete state by remarking how much " more than every other poet of the present day, every line and word he wrote is instinct with peculiar beauty." Let no man sit do wn_t Q .write w it h the purpose of making, every liofl and wnWl hftftn tiful and peculia r. JThe only jgffect o f^guch an endeavour will be to corrupt his judgment and coirfoun cTTiis "understanding. In^Jdr 1 _£hfilley?s casey besides ja^gnrieavgur oTThis ..kind, there seems to ^ha ye been an attempt to _jinrgaliae every object inoiafc ure, pres enting them under forms and combinations^, which they are never to be seenjfchrough-JJie mere m edium of our eye-sight. Me , Sh ol lcy sccinB to have written under the" notion that no phenomena can beperfectly poet i cal, untiTTfrey "shall haveTTeen so decom posed from the ir natural order and coherency

as to be hrOUght Wnrn t.hft raiifW i n thfi li£pnft«« of

a phantasma or a visio n. A poet is, in his estimation, (if I may venture to infer his principles from his

PREFACE. SIX

practice,) purely and pre-eminently a visionary. Much beauty, exceeding splendour of diction and imagery, cannot but be perceived in his poetry, as well as exquisite charms of versification; and a reader of an apprehensive fancy will doubtless be entranced whilst he reads: buiufren he ^ shall have closed t he voJume_and considered within himself what it has ad de d t o his s tock of LZp enriahent imp reaqjopflj nf re curring thoughts, of preg nant recollections, he will probably find hia afores in_thi_L kind no more en riched by having re ad Mr. Shelley's poems, than by having gazed jm __so__jnanj gorgeously coloured clouds_in--a n ovoning s t y. Surpassing ly beautiful t hey were whilst before his eyes; hivhTSpaamuch as they had no relevancy ta his life, past, or future, the impressi on u pon t he memory barely survived that upon the senses! .

I would by no means wish to be understood as saying that a poet can be too imaginative, provided that his other faculties be exercised in due proportion to his imagination. ^Twould have no man depress

i nggn to ^° ** g e^pipoise W hat I would be unde rstood to oppugn is the strange opinion which se ems to prevail amo ngst certain of our wr iters_and„readers of poetry, that good sense stands in a species of an tagonism to Tpoo tioal g o niu s, S steaiFof being one of its most essential constituents. The maxim that a poet sTiouIdJ_aZ:. of im agin^-oa^i-lcoinpaeV- is-not- Xthink , tojbejadopted thus literally. That predominance of the imaginative faculty, or of impassioned temperament,

XX PREFACE.

which is incompatible with the attributes of a sound understanding and a just judgment, may make a rhapsodist, a melodist, or a visionary, each of whom may produce what may be admired for the particular talent and beauty belonging to it : but imagination and passion thus unsupported will never make a poet in the kr^e sfand highest s ense of the appellation 7^-

" For Poetry is Reason's self sublimed ; 'Tis Reason's sovereignty, whereunto All properties of sense, all dues of wit, All fancies, images, perceptions, passions, All intellectual ordinance grown up From accident, necessity, or custom, Seen to be good, and after made authentic ; All ordinance aforethought, that from science Doth prescience take, and from experience law ; All lights and institutes of digested knowledge, Gifts and endowments of intelligence From sources living, from the dead bequests, — Subserve and minister."*

Ms* Shelley ancLfais disciple s J _however,~~the fol- W^re, (if T ™ay_jjg_cal l them ) of the phantastic scHOQiijJabour toefFecta reyoiution^in -ihkr order of things. They woulcT^Jaasfer the domicile of poetry to regions' where reasqn^^far from having any supremacy "Of^ruT^iS. all but -unknown, an alien and an outcast^ to seats of anarchy and abstraction, where imagination exercises the shadow of an authority, ov er a people of phantoms, i n a land ofdreams.

In bringing these cursory criticisms to an end, I must beg leave to warn the reader against any expectation that he will find my work free either from •MS.

PREFACE. XXI

the faults which I attribute to others, or from faults which may be worse, and more peculiarly my own. The actual works of men will not bear to be measured by their ideal standards in any case; and I may observe, in reference to my own, that my critical views have rather resulted from composition than directed it. If, however, I have been unable to avoid the errors which I condemn, or errors not less censurable, I trust, that, on the other hand, I shall not be found to have deprived myself, by any narrowness or perversity of judgment, of the advantage which the study of these writers, exceptionable though they be, may undoubtedly afford to one who, whilst duly taking note of their general defects, shall not have closed his mind to a perception of their particular excellences. I feel and have already expressed, a most genuine and I hope not an inadequate admiration for the powers which they respectively possess ; and wherever it might occur to me that the exercise of those powers would be appropriate and consistent, I should not fail to benefit by their example to the extent of my capabilities. To say, indeed, that I admire them, is to admit that I owe them much; for admiration is never thrown away upon the mind of him who feels it, except when it is misdirected or blindly indulged. There is perhaps nothing which more enlarges or enriches the mind than the disposition to lay it genially open to impressions of pleasure from the exercise of every species of talent ; nothing by which it is more impoverished than

XXll PREFACE.

the habit of undue depreciation. What is puerile, pusillanimous, or wicked, it can do us no good to admire ; but let us admire all that can be admired without debasing the dispositions or stultifying the understanding.

Lokdon, May, 1834.

i \

INTKODUCTION.

Is the fourteenth century the Flemish towns were the most opulent and considerable in Europe; and of these, Ghent and Bruges were, in size, wealth, and population, perhaps scarcely inferior even to Venice. They were of right subject to the Earl of Flanders, and in ordinary times he exercised by his bailiffs the powers of sovereignty in them : but they had secured various franchises and immunities, which they guarded with jealousy, and which, when need was, they rose in arms to defend. On such occasions they were seldom all joined in a league together ; for the trading interests of several of them were in some respects opposite, and some would generally remain subject to the Earl, and at war, therefore, with those which leagued against him.

These towns were not only asunder one from another, but each one was commonly divided by parties within itself. The towns consisted each of various crafts or guilds, as the weavers, the fullers, the clothiers, the mariners, &c, and some of these crafts were occasionally well affected towards the Earl, at

*xiv INTRODUCTION.

the same time that others were disposed to rebellion. But the chief opposition was between the rich inhabitants and the poor. The rich wished for peace and repose ; the poor were eager for war, which, in that age, when most men were warlike, was perhaps the best trade that a poor man could follow. When therefore any of these towns was in rebellion, there was generally a peace-faction within it, which rose or fell in importance according to the varying circumstances of military success or failure.

In the year 1381, the inhabitants of Bruges made themselves friends with Lois, Earl of Flanders, and under the countenance of his authority, which they purchased, began to cut a channel which would have opened to them a direct communication with the river Lis, the navigation of which was otherwise only accessible to them by passing through Ghent. Ghent was, however, by no means willing to lose her exclusive possession or control of the navigation up the Lis. Like the " Crovmmg City " of more ancient days, " the harvest of the river was her revenue. 9 *

" There was at this time in Ghent a burgess called John Lyon, a sage man, cruel, hardy, subtle, and a great enterpriser, and cold and patient enough in all his works." This John Lyon (the Flemish name is Heins, but it is thus Englished) was a dismissed officer of the Earl, and he took the opportunity of the discontent occasioned by the proceedings of the Earl and the people of Bruges, to revive an old usage of Ghent, by which all the disaffected were accustomed to form themselves into a corps, distin-

INTEODUCTION. XXV

guished by white hoods, and subordinated to one ruler. Such a corps was now formed, and John Lyon, being chosen their chief, conducted a party of them to attack the pioneers from Bruges who were digging at the Lis. But the pioneers retreated, and desisted without fighting.

The professed object of forming the corps was accomplished therefore; "but notwithstanding that, John Lyon did not abandon his office, but the White- Hoods went daily up and down the town, and John Lyon kept them still in that state, and to some he would say secretly, * Hold you well content ; eat and drink, and make merry, and be not concerned at any thing you spend ; for hereafter such shall pay you as will not now give you one penny.' "

For men thus organised and thus disposed, a fresh cause of quarrel was easily to be found. "In the same week that John Lyon had been thus at Deinse, to have met with the pioneers of Bruges, there came many out of the Franc of Ghent, to complain to them that had then the rule of the law, and said, * Sirs, at Erclo, near here, which is within the Franchise of Ghent, there is one of our burgesses in the Earl's prison, and we have desired the Earl's bailiff there to deliver him ; but he hath plainly answered that he will not deliver him, which is evidently against the privilege of this town of Ghent ; and so thereby your privileges will be by degrees broken, which have hitherto been so nobly and so highly praised, and besides that, so well kept and maintained that none durst break them, and that the most noble Knight

XXVI INTRODUCTION.

of Flanders considered it an honour to be a burgess of Ghent.' Then they of the Law answered and said, that 'they would write to the bailiff desiring that the burgess may be delivered; for truly his office extendeth not so far as to keep our burgess in the Earl's prison.' And so they wrote to the bailiff for the deliverance of the burgess who was in prison in Erclo. — The bailiff answered, ' What needeth all these words for a mariner? Say,' quoth the bailiff, who was named Eoger d' Auterne, c to them of Ghent, that though he were ten times richer than he is, he shall never go out of prison unless my lord the Earl command it. I have power to arrest, but I have no power to deliver.' "

They of Ghent were ill content with this answer, and complained loudly to the Earl, who agreed to release the prisoner and redress their grievances, on condition that the White-Hoods should be disbanded. But John Lyon maintained that it was only by keeping up the White-Hoods that they would ever have any security for their privileges ; and in spite of all the Earl's remonstrances, the White-Hoods increased in number and were formed into companies with captains over them. The Earl then sent his bailiff to Ghent with two hundred men, to seize and execute John Lyon and other captains. This brought on an encounter in the market-place, where the bailiff was slain and the Earl's banner torn in pieces by the White-Hoods.

Such was the beginning of a war which continued for several years between the Earl of Flanders and

INTBODUCTION. XXYU

the town of Ghent, and in which the principal towns on the part of the Earl were Bruges, Oudenarde, Dendermonde, Lisle, and Tournay ; and those on the part of Ghent were Damme, Ypres, Courtray, Grammont, Poperinguen, and Messines : — A war which in its progress extended to the whole of Flanders, and excited a degree of interest in all the civilised countries of Europe for which the cause must be sought in the state of European communities at the time. It was believed that entire success on the part of Ghent would bring on a general rising almost throughout Christendom, of the Commonalty against the Feudal Lords and men of substance. The incorporation of the citizens of Paris known by the name of " the Army with Mallets," was, according to the well-known chronicler of the period, " all by the example of them of Ghent." Nicholas le Flamand deterred them from pulling down the Louvre, by urging the expediency of waiting to see what success might attend the Flemish insurgents. At Bheims, Chalons on the Marne, at Orleans, Beauvoisin, the like designs were entertained. " The rebellion of the Jacquerie," says Froissart, " was never so terrible as this was likely to have been." Brabant, Burgundy, and the lower part of Germany, were in a dangerous condition; and in England "Wat Tyler's rebellion was contemporaneous and not unconnected with what was going on in Flanders.