XIV.

GENTLE HERDSMAN, TELL TO ME.

DIALOGUE BETWEEN A PILGRIM AND HERDSMAN.

The scene of this beautiful old ballad is laid near Walsingham, in Norfolk, where was anciently an image of the Virgin Mary, famous over all Europe for the numerous pilgrimages made to it, and the great riches it possessed. Erasmus has given a very exact and humorous description of the superstitions practised there in his time. See his account of the _Virgo parathalassia_, in his colloquy, intitled, _Peregrinatio religionis ergo_. He tells us, the rich offerings in silver, gold, and precious stones, that were there shewn him, were incredible, there being scarce a person of any note in England, but what some time or other paid a visit, or sent a present to _our lady of Walsingham_.[442] At the dissolution of the monasteries in 1538, this splendid image, with another from Ipswich, was carried to Chelsea, and there burnt in the presence of commissioners; who, we trust, did not burn the jewels and the finery.

This poem is printed from a copy in the Editor's folio MS. which had greatly suffered by the hand of time; but vestiges of several of the lines remaining, some conjectural supplements have been attempted, which, for greater exactness, are in this one ballad distinguished by italicks.[443]

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[The shrine of the Virgin at Walsingham was the favourite English resort of pilgrims for nearly four hundred years, and the people of Norfolk were in great distress when their image was taken away from them, and the stream of votaries was suddenly stopped. In a copy of the _Reliques_ in the library of the British Museum, there is a MS. note by William Cole to the following effect: "I was lately informed that the identical image of our lady of Walsingham being mured up in an old wall, and there discovered on pulling it down, was presented by the Earl of Leicester (Coke) to a relative of his of the Roman Catholic religion."

The shrine was connected with a Priory of Augustinian Canons, which was founded during the episcopate of William Turbus, Bishop of Norwich (1146-1174). When Henry III. made his pilgrimage to the shrine in the year 1241, it had long been famous, and was probably more frequented even than the tomb of St. Thomas a Becket at Canterbury. Foreigners of all nations came hither on pilgrimage, and in number and quality the devotees appear to have equalled those who toiled to the Lady of Loretto in Italy. Several of our kings visited the shrine after Henry III. had set the example. Edward I. was there in 1280 and in 1296, Edward II. in 1315, and Edward IV. and his queen in 1469. Henry VII. offered his prayers in "our Lady's Church" at Christmas time 1486-7, and in the following summer, after the battle of Stoke, "he sent his banner to be offered to our Lady of Walsingham, where before he made his vows." Spelman gives on hearsay evidence the report that Henry VIII., in the second year of his reign, walked barefoot to Walsingham from a neighbouring village, and then presented a valuable necklace to the image. Bartholomew, Lord Burghersh, K.G., by his will made in 1369, ordered a statue of himself on horseback to be made in silver, and offered to our Lady of Walsingham; and Henry VII., in his lifetime, gave a kneeling figure of himself. There are numerous references to Walsingham in the _Paston Letters_, and in 1443 we find Margaret Paston writing to her husband to tell him that her mother had vowed another image of wax of his own weight, to "our Lady of Walsingham," and that she herself had vowed to go on pilgrimage there for him. (Ed. Fenn, iii. 22.)

The total income of the place (including the offerings) was reported to be _£_650 in the twenty-sixth year of Henry VIII.'s reign, and Roger Ascham, when visiting Cologne in 1550, makes this remark: "The Three Kings be not so rich, I believe, as was the Lady of Walsingham." Now the treasures at Cologne are said to have been worth six millions of francs (_£_240,000).

The road to Walsingham was a well-frequented one, and a cross was set up in every town it passed through. An old track running by Newmarket, Brandon, and Castle Acre, which was used by the pilgrims, was known as the "Palmer's Way" or "Walsingham Green Way."

The Milky Way ("the Watling-street of the heavens," as Chaucer has it) has been associated with pilgrimages in several countries. In Norfolk, the long streaming path of light was supposed to point the pilgrim on his road to Walsingham, and was in consequence called the "Walsingham Way." In Italy, in France, and in the north of Europe it has been called "St. Jago's Way," "Jacobsstrasse," &c., as pointing the way to Compostella, and one of its Turkish names is "The Hadji's Way," as indicating the road to Mecca.[444]

Among the Rawlinson MSS. in the Bodleian Library is _A Lament for Walsingham_, in the handwriting of Philip, Earl of Arundel, the third stanza of which is as follows:

"Bitter, bitter, oh! to behould the grasse to growe Where the walles of Walsingam So statly did sheue. Such were the workes of Walsingam While shee did stand! Such are the wrackes as now do shewe of that holy land! Levell, Levell with the ground the towres doe lye."

The whole poem is printed in the Folio MS. ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. iii. p. 470.

The late Mr. John Gough Nichols published in 1849 a very interesting volume, containing a translation of the _Colloquy of Erasmus_, with valuable notes in illustration of it, under the following title: "Pilgrimages to Saint Mary of Walsingham and Saint Thomas of Canterbury, by Desiderius Erasmus, newly translated ... and illustrated by J. G. Nichols. Westminster. 1849." sm. 8vo. This work has lately been reprinted.

An excellent description of Walsingham Priory, with an account of the excavations made on its site in 1853, will be found in Henry Harrod's _Gleanings among the Castles and Convents of Norfolk_, 8vo. Norwich, 1857, pp. 155-197.]

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Gentle heardsman, tell to me, Of curtesy I thee pray, Unto the towne of Walsingham Which is the right and ready way.

"Unto the towne of Walsingham 5 The way is hard for to be gon; And verry crooked are those pathes For you to find out all alone."

Weere the miles doubled thrise, And the way never soe ill, 10 Itt were not enough for mine offence; Itt is soe grievous and soe ill.

"Thy yeeares are young, thy face is faire, Thy witts are weake, thy thoughts are greene; Time hath not given thee leave, as yett, 15 For to committ so great a sinne."

Yes, heardsman, yes, soe woldest thou say, If thou knewest soe much as I; My witts, and thoughts, and all the rest, Have well deserved for to dye. 20

I am not what I seeme to bee, My clothes and sexe doe differ farr: I am a woman, woe is me! _Born_[445] to greeffe and irksome care.

_For my_ beloved, and well-beloved, 25 _My wayward cruelty could kill:_ _And though my teares will nought avail,_ _Most dearely I bewail him_ still.

_He was the flower of n_oble wights, _None ever more sincere colde_ bee; 30 _Of comely mien and shape_ hee was, _And tenderlye he_e loved mee.

_When thus I saw he lo_ved me well, _I grewe so proud his pa_ine to see, _That I, who did not_ know myselfe, 35 _Thought scorne of such a youth_ as hee.

[446]And grew soe coy and nice to please, As women's lookes are often soe, He might not kisse, nor hand forsooth, Unlesse I willed him soe to doe. 40

Thus being wearyed with delayes To see I pittyed not his greeffe, He gott him to a secrett place, And there he dyed without releeffe.

And for his sake these weeds I weare, 45 And sacriffice my tender age; And every day Ile begg my bread, To undergoe this pilgrimage.

Thus every day I fast and pray, And ever will doe till I dye; 50 And gett me to some secrett place, For soe did hee, and soe will I.

Now, gentle heardsman, aske no more, But keepe my secretts I thee pray; Unto the towne of Walsingam 55 Show me the right and readye way.

"Now goe thy wayes, and God before! For he must ever guide thee still: Turne downe that dale, the right hand path, And soe, faire pilgrim, fare thee well!" 60

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[***] To shew what constant tribute was paid to _Our Lady of_ _Walsingham_, I shall give a few extracts from the "_Houshold-Book_ _of Henry Algernon Percy_, 5th Earl of Northumberland." Printed 1770, 8vo.

Sect. xliii. p. 337, &c.

_Item_, My Lorde usith yerly to send afor Michaelmas for his Lordschip's Offerynge to our Lady of Walsyngeham.--_iiij_ d.

_Item_, My Lorde usith ande accustumyth to sende yerely for the upholdynge of the Light of Wax which his Lordschip fyndith birnynge yerly befor our Lady of Walsyngham, contenynge _xj_ lb. of Wax in it after _vij_ d. ob. for the fyndynge of every lb. redy wrought by a covenaunt maid with the Channon by great, for the hole yere, for the fyndinge of the said Lyght byrnning,--_vi_ s. _viiij_ d.

_Item_, My Lord useth and accustomith to syende yerely to the Channon that kepith the Light before our Lady of Walsyngham, for his reward for the hole yere, for kepynge of the said Light, lightynge of it at all service tymes dayly thorowt the yere,--_xij_ d.

_Item_, My Lord usith and accustomyth yerely to send to the Prest that kepith the Light, lyghtynge of it at all service tymes daily thorowt the yere,--_iij_ s. _iiij_ d.

FOOTNOTES:

[442] See at the end of this ballad an account of the annual offerings of the Earls of Northumberland.

[443] [In the Folio MS. is the following note by Percy:--"Since I first transcribed this song for the press part of the leaf has been worne away. It was once exactly as I have represented it in my book." Ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. iii. p. 526.]

[444] [R. J. King's _Sketches and Studies_, 1874, p. 262.]

[445] [Mr. Furnivall suggests _a prey_.]

[446] Three of the following stanzas have been finely paraphrased by Dr. _Goldsmith_, in his charming ballad of _Edwin and Emma_; the reader of taste will have a pleasure in comparing them with the original.

"'And' still I try'd each fickle art, Importunate and vain; And while his passion touch'd my heart, I triumph'd in his pain.

"'Till quite dejected with my scorn, He left me to my pride, And sought a solitude forlorn, In secret, where he dy'd.

"But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, And well my life shall pay; I'll seek the solitude he sought, And stretch me where he lay.

"And there forlorn despairing hid, I'll lay me down and die: 'Twas so for me that Edwin did And so for him will I."

[Goldsmith did not follow the last two verses, but made his ending much more sentimental than that of the old ballad.]