“Awak, and thenk on Cristes passioun!” So exclaims John the carpenter in the Miller's Tale, simultaneously performing the sign of the cross in his frantic efforts to stir Nicholas from a feigned trance. Then, babbling folk charms and prayers, John continues his attempts to wrestle the young astronomer free from supernatural forces, the “elves” and “wightes” he supposes have afflicted his boarder. Here the text of the urbane late-fourteenth-century Chaucer apparently reflects upon a tradition often considered characteristic of fifteenth-century devotional (...) literature and praxis, that is, “affective piety.” Tantalizingly, John's claims for the spiritually cathartic benefits of thinking “on Cristes passioun” parallel a construction used at the beginning of the Meditations on the Supper of Our Lord where the author states, “Whan þou þenkest þys [of Christ's Passion] yn þy þoʒt / Thyr may no fende noye þe with noʒt.” This kind of idea resonates throughout the pseudo-Bonaventuran tradition, a cluster of meditative literary treatments of the lives of Christ and Mary based on versions of the Latin Meditationes vitae Christi . The Privity of the Passion similarly promises “comforthe and gostely gladnes” to those who “with a besy thoghte … duell in it [the Passion].” The Middle English translation of the Meditationes de Passione Christi , a text that was probably composed during Chaucer's lifetime, is representative of the tradition in how it promotes thinking on Christ's Passion as a means of spiritual renewal. (shrink)

The prolific English poet John Lydgate has been known as the “monk of Bury” since the early fifteenth century. Both his popularity and perceptions of his literary merit have fluctuated wildly since his zenith as the famous laureate of Henry V, Henry VI and Duke Humphrey, but readers have been constant in their association of Lydgate with the Benedictine abbey from which the epithet derives. However, there has been remarkably little examination of the details of Lydgate's existence at Bury: the (...) critical emphasis has been on Lydgate's contact with Lancastrian society rather than on his quotidian life as a monk. “To trace in detail the connection between the Bury library and the characteristic configuration of Lydgate's thought and work, to see how his mind was formed and influenced by the books with which he was in such familiar contact” remains an unfulfilled desire. In particular, given the range of Lydgate's literary and intellectual allusions, it is surprising that there has been no full attempt to compare what we know of Bury's sizeable late medieval library, catalogued in the late fourteenth century by Henry Kirkstede, with Lydgate's poetic output. Likewise, few critics have attempted to trace connections between Lydgate's poetry and the intellectual and cultural atmosphere of a grand Benedictine abbey in the late medieval period. This article, a study of one manuscript from Bury that Lydgate certainly handled and that is typical of the type of book he would have encountered in great numbers in the monastic library, endeavours to reassert the importance to his poetry of the environment in which Lydgate spent most of his life. (shrink)

It is now some thirty years since the researches of John H. Fisher and Malcolm Richardson highlighted the importance of the records of the central government in the process of English-language “vernacularization” in early-fifteenth-century England. Their publication of the Anthology of Chancery English provided irrefutable evidence of a linguistic transition that overtook some key types of government records, which began to be drafted in English where previously they had been written in Anglo-Norman French and, to a lesser extent, Latin. But (...) while the existence of these early examples of “official” written English cannot be doubted, the forces that underlay this linguistic shift are less clear. From the very outset, doubts were expressed about the hypothesis advanced by Fisher and Richardson, that the spread of English in the records of the central government could be directly attributed to a “language policy” put into place by the Lancastrian regime and, in particular, to the personal initiative of Henry V, who made the momentous decision—from a linguistic point of view—to have his signet letters written in English rather than French in July 1417. But it is only more recently that a more detailed and robust criticism has been directed toward these ideas. In an article published in 2004, Michael Benskin rightly pointed out that the very term “Chancery English,” or “Chancery Standard,” as applied in the work of Fisher and Richardson is a misnomer, since only a minority of the documents contained within the Anthology were actually produced within the Chancery itself. He also questioned the extent to which the Chancery could be credited with an enlightened attitude toward written English, given that some of its most prestigious records—the close, patent, and statute rolls—continued to be written in Latin or French throughout the fifteenth century. (shrink)