LYDGATE, John, a monk of Bury St Edmunds, was the most famous English poet of the 15th century. He is a standing refutation of a popular notion that the extraordinary collapse of English poetry after Chaucer disappeared from the stage was due to the unsettled state of public affairs. The exact dates of his birth and death are not ascertained, but he began his occupation as a versemaker before Chaucer’s death, and probably ended it several years before the Wars of the Roses broke out. Public affairs were not more unsettled during his lifetime than during the lifetime of Chaucer. Like Chaucer, Lydgate enjoyed the patronage of the royal family. He was the “poet laureate” of his generation. He translated Benoît de St Maure’s History of Troy " at the commandment” of Henry V.; he wrote a poem on the battle of Agincourt; the coronation of Henry VII. furnished him with another theme; the “Good Duke Humphrey” of Gloucester “commanded” his translation of Bochas upon the Fall of Princes. The monk of Bury was in short a professional poet. According to Warton he opened a school in his monastery for teaching the sons of the nobility the arts of versification and the elegancies of composition, and it would seem from the character and the variety of the pieces attributed to him—“disguisings,” “mummings,” lives of saints, translations of standard works, devotional pieces in metre, metrical paraphrases of proverbs—that he was ready to write to order on any theme submitted to him. Lydgate attracted a good deal of attention from our early printers and antiquaries, his Fall of Princes being reprinted four times before the accession of Elizabeth. The fact that it was the largest poem in English of a tragic cast may have had something to do with the popularity ...of this work. The Story of Thebes, based on Statius and Boccaccio, is generally supposed to have been one of his first essays. It is told as one of the Canterbury tales,— the poet in his prologue feigning himself to have joined Chaucer’s pilgrims at Canterbury, and recited this tale at the host’s command as they rode back. Possibly more than one of two hundred and fifty-one separate poems, most of them short, ascribed to Lydgate by Ritson, have been ascribed to him on very slender authority. But the works undoubtedly his are so commonplace in thought and sentiment, and so clumsy in execution,—with all allowance for transcribers’ errors and imperfect editing,— that no injustice can have been done to his reputation by attributing any doggerel to his facile pen. He was evidently a great reader of poetry, a scholar accomplished in amount, had probably a large indiscriminate enjoyment of poetry, and probably also a boisterous enjoyment of his own facility in building up stanzas. His own mental life was probably the reverse of dull. But, like many another self-satisfied versifier, he is the cause of dulness in others. In reading him with his own contented spirit, one catches some faint reflexion of the gleeful happiness with which he seems to have poured out his abundant store of thrice-repeated phrases and images. Of artistic sensibility he was entirely destitute. He claims our sympathy by his warm admiration for Chaucer, but admiration gave him no share of Chaucer’s economy of touch, rapid vivacious movement, and subtle wit. His lines are eked out by tautologous and feeble epithets, and garrulous repetitions— “as clerkes can you tell,” “in bookes as I rede,” “the story saith certain,” “the story can devise,” “the story can reherse,” “the story specifies,”.“the story maketh mind.” Something is expressed in learned terms, and then the same thing is repeated “in plain English.” Lydgate is seen at his best in his illustrations of proverbs and maxims of homely morality, and by far his most successful metre is a stave of eight four-beat lines with a rhyme from the first half recurring in the second. A Satirical Balad on the Times, with the refrain “So as the crab gothe forwarde”; A Satirical Description of his Lady, with the refrain “When she hath on hire hood of green” ; A Lover's Complaint; Thonke God of Alle ; and Make Amendes — all in this metre—are among the most favourable specimens of his powers. A line of five accents seems always to have driven him into prolixity. The London Lackpenny, to the refrain of “But for lack of money I might not speed,” the best known of his humorous poems, is also in four-beat lines, though there are seven lines in the stanza. Lydgate’s copiousness of detail in describing customs, dresses, architecture, as well as in making literary com parisons, render his verses useful as materials for the historian; but in artistic skill he is a sad falling off from Chaucer. Personally he seems to have been a lively monk enough. In his Testament he makes confession to having been a terrible boy, “disposed to many unbridled passions.” He fought with his schoolfellows, and scoffed and made mouths at them “like a wanton ape”; he played truant, and “forged leesings” in excuse; neither hedge nor wall could keep him out of orchards; he “told cherry-stones” when he ought to have been at church, and threw his paternoster and his creed at the cock. Highly decorous respectable old men often take a pleasure in looking back, as Justice Shallow did, to the follies of their youth, and perhaps exaggerating them, but there is nothing in Lydgate’s confession inconsistent with his poetry. A dull writer is generally a person of high animal spirits; only that could sustain him through platitudes which other people find so dreary. (w. Μ.)
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