A Dream of John Ball
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William Morris >> A Dream of John Ball
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So he opened the door, and we went into the chancel; a light
burned on the high altar before the host, and looked red and
strange in the moonlight that came through the wide traceried
windows unstained by the pictures and beflowerings of the
glazing; there were new stalls for the priests and vicars where
we entered, carved more abundantly and beautifully than any of
the woodwork I had yet seen, and everywhere was rich and fair
colour and delicate and dainty form. Our dead lay just before
the high altar on low biers, their faces all covered with linen
cloths, for some of them had been sore smitten and hacked in the
fray. We went up to them and John Ball took the cloth from
the face of one; he had been shot to the heart with a shaft and
his face was calm and smooth. He had been a young man fair and
comely, with hair flaxen almost to whiteness; he lay there in his
clothes as he had fallen, the hands crossed over his breast and
holding a rush cross. His bow lay on one side of him, his quiver
of shafts and his sword on the other.
John Ball spake to me while he held the corner of the sheet:
"What sayest thou, scholar? feelest thou sorrow of heart when
thou lookest on this, either for the man himself, or for thyself
and the time when thou shalt be as he is?"
I said, "Nay, I feel no sorrow for this; for the man is not here:
this is an empty house, and the master has gone from it.
Forsooth, this to me is but as a waxen image of a man; nay, not
even that, for if it were an image, it would be an image of the
man as he was when he was alive. But here is no life nor
semblance of life, and I am not moved by it; nay, I am more
moved by the man's clothes and war-gear--there is more life in
them than in him."
"Thou sayest sooth," said he; "but sorrowest thou not for thine
own death when thou lookest on him?"
I said, "And how can I sorrow for that which I cannot so much as
think of? Bethink thee that while I am alive I cannot think that
I shall die, or believe in death at all, although I know well
that I shall die--I can but think of myself as living in some new
way."
Again he looked on me as if puzzled; then his face cleared as he
said, "Yea, forsooth, and that is what the Church meaneth by
death, and even that I look for; and that hereafter I shall see
all the deeds that I have done in the body, and what they really
were, and what shall come of them; and ever shall I be a member
of the Church, and that is the Fellowship; then, even as now."
I sighed as he spoke; then I said, "Yea, somewhat in this fashion
have most of men thought, since no man that is can conceive of
not being; and I mind me that in those stories of the old Danes,
their common word for a man dying is to say, `He changed his
life.'"
"And so deemest thou?"
I shook my head and said nothing.
"What hast thou to say hereon?" said he, "for there seemeth
something betwixt us twain as it were a wall that parteth us."
"This," said I, "that though I die and end, yet mankind yet
liveth, therefore I end not, since I am a man; and even so thou
deemest, good friend; or at the least even so thou doest, since
now thou art ready to die in grief and torment rather than be
unfaithful to the Fellowship, yea rather than fail to work thine
utmost for it; whereas, as thou thyself saidst at the cross, with
a few words spoken and a little huddling-up of the truth, with a
few pennies paid, and a few masses sung, thou mightest have
had a good place on this earth and in that heaven. And as thou
doest, so now doth many a poor man unnamed and unknown, and shall
do while the world lasteth: and they that do less than this, fail
because of fear, and are ashamed of their cowardice, and make
many tales to themselves to deceive themselves, lest they should
grow too much ashamed to live. And trust me if this were not so,
the world would not live, but would die, smothered by its own
stink. Is the wall betwixt us gone, friend?"
He smiled as he looked at me, kindly, but sadly and shamefast,
and shook his head.
Then in a while he said, "Now ye have seen the images of those
who were our friends, come and see the images of those who were
once our foes."
So he led the way through the side screen into the chancel aisle,
and there on the pavement lay the bodies of the foemen, their
weapons taken from them and they stripped of their armour,
but not otherwise of their clothes, and their faces mostly, but
not all, covered. At the east end of the aisle was another
altar, covered with a rich cloth beautifully figured, and on the
wall over it was a deal of tabernacle work, in the midmost niche
of it an image painted and gilt of a gay knight on horseback,
cutting his own cloak in two with his sword to give a cantle of
it to a half-naked beggar.
"Knowest thou any of these men?" said I.
He said, "Some I should know, could I see their faces; but let
them be."
"Were they evil men?" said I.
"Yea," he said, "some two or three. But I will not tell thee of
them; let St. Martin, whose house this is, tell their story if he
will. As for the rest they were hapless fools, or else men who
must earn their bread somehow, and were driven to this bad way of
earning it; God rest their souls! I will be no tale-bearer, not
even to God."
So we stood musing a little while, I gazing not on the dead men,
but on the strange pictures on the wall, which were richer and
deeper coloured than those in the nave; till at last John Ball
turned to me and laid his hand on my shoulder. I started and
said, "Yea, brother; now must I get me back to Will Green's
house, as I promised to do so timely."
"Not yet, brother," said he; "I have still much to say to thee,
and the night is yet young. Go we and sit in the stalls of the
vicars, and let us ask and answer on matters concerning the
fashion of this world of menfolk, and of this land wherein we
dwell; for once more I deem of thee that thou hast seen things
which I have not seen, and could not have seen." With that word
he led me back into the chancel, and we sat down side by side in
the stalls at the west end of it, facing the high altar and the
great east window. By this time the chancel was getting dimmer
as the moon wound round the heavens; but yet was there a
twilight of the moon, so that I could still see the things about
me for all the brightness of the window that faced us; and this
moon twilight would last, I knew, until the short summer night
should wane, and the twilight of the dawn begin to show us the
colours of all things about us.
So we sat, and I gathered my thoughts to hear what he would say,
and I myself was trying to think what I should ask of him; for I
thought of him as he of me, that he had seen things which I could
not have seen.
CHAPTER X
TWO TALK OF THE DAYS TO COME
"Brother," said John Ball, "how deemest thou of our adventure? I
do not ask thee if thou thinkest we are right to play the play
like men, but whether playing like men we shall fail like men."
"Why dost thou ask me?" said I; "how much further than beyond
this church can I see?"
"Far further," quoth he, "for I wot that thou art a scholar and
hast read books; and withal, in some way that I cannot name, thou
knowest more than we; as though with thee the world had lived
longer than with us. Hide not, therefore, what thou hast in
thine heart, for I think after this night I shall see thee
no more, until we meet in the heavenly Fellowship."
"Friend," I said, "ask me what thou wilt; or rather ask thou the
years to come to tell thee some little of their tale; and yet
methinks thou thyself mayest have some deeming thereof."
He raised himself on the elbow of the stall and looked me full in
the face, and said to me: "Is it so after all that thou art no
man in the flesh, but art sent to me by the Master of the
Fellowship, and the King's Son of Heaven, to tell me what shall
be? If that be so tell me straight out, since I had some deeming
hereof before; whereas thy speech is like ours and yet unlike,
and thy face hath something in it which is not after the fashion
of our day. And yet take heed, if thou art such an one, I fear
thee not, nay, nor him that sent thee; nor for thy bidding, nor
for his, will I turn back from London Bridge but will press on,
for I do what is meet and right."
"Nay," said I, "did I not tell thee e'en now that I knew life but
not death? I am not dead; and as to who hath sent me, I say not
that I am come by my own will; for I know not; yet also I know
not the will that hath sent me hither. And this I say to thee,
moreover, that if I know more than thou, I do far less; therefore
thou art my captain and I thy minstrel."
He sighed as one from whom a weight had been lifted, and said:
"Well, then, since thou art alive on the earth and a man like
myself, tell me how deemest thou of our adventure: shall we come
to London, and how shall we fare there?"
Said I, "What shall hinder you to come to London, and to fare
there as ye will? For be sure that the Fellowship in Essex shall
not fail you; nor shall the Londoners who hate the king's uncles
withstand you; nor hath the Court any great force to meet you in
the field; ye shall cast fear and trembling into their hearts."
"Even so, I thought," said he; "but afterwards what shall
betide?"
Said I, "It grieves my heart to say that which I think. Yet
hearken; many a man's son shall die who is now alive and happy,
and if the soldiers be slain, and of them most not on the field,
but by the lawyers, how shall the captains escape? Surely thou
goest to thy death."
He smiled very sweetly, yet proudly, as he said: "Yea, the road
is long, but the end cometh at last. Friend, many a day have I
been dying; for my sister, with whom I have played and been merry
in the autumn tide about the edges of the stubble-fields; and we
gathered the nuts and bramble-berries there, and started thence
the missel-thrush, and wondered at his voice and thought him big;
and the sparrow-hawk wheeled and turned over the hedges and the
weasel ran across the path, and the sound of the sheep-bells came
to us from the downs as we sat happy on the grass; and she
is dead and gone from the earth, for she pined from famine after
the years of the great sickness; and my brother was slain in the
French wars, and none thanked him for dying save he that stripped
him of his gear; and my unwedded wife with whom I dwelt in love
after I had taken the tonsure, and all men said she was good and
fair, and true she was and lovely; she also is dead and gone from
the earth; and why should I abide save for the deeds of the flesh
which must be done? Truly, friend, this is but an old tale that
men must die; and I will tell thee another, to wit, that they
live: and I live now and shall live. Tell me then what shall
befall."
Somehow I could not heed him as a living man as much as I had
done, and the voice that came from me seemed less of me as I
answered:
"These men are strong and valiant as any that have been or shall
be, and good fellows also and kindly; but they are simple,
and see no great way before their own noses. The victory shall
they have and shall not know what to do with it; they shall fight
and overcome, because of their lack of knowledge, and because of
their lack of knowledge shall they be cozened and betrayed when
their captains are slain, and all shall come to nought by
seeming; and the king's uncles shall prevail, that both they and
the king may come to the shame that is appointed for them. And
yet when the lords have vanquished, and all England lieth under
them again, yet shall their victory be fruitless; for the free
men that hold unfree lands shall they not bring under the collar
again, and villeinage shall slip from their hands, till there be,
and not long after ye are dead, but few unfree men in England; so
that your lives and your deaths both shall bear fruit."
"Said I not," quoth John Ball, "that thou wert a sending from
other times? Good is thy message, for the land shall be
free. Tell on now."
He spoke eagerly, and I went on somewhat sadly: "The times shall
better, though the king and lords shall worsen, the Gilds of
Craft shall wax and become mightier; more recourse shall there be
of foreign merchants. There shall be plenty in the land and not
famine. Where a man now earneth two pennies he shall earn
three."
"Yea," said he, "then shall those that labour become strong and
stronger, and so soon shall it come about that all men shall work
and none make to work, and so shall none be robbed, and at last
shall all men labour and live and be happy, and have the goods of
the earth without money and without price."
"Yea," said I, "that shall indeed come to pass, but not yet for a
while, and belike a long while."
And I sat for long without speaking, and the church grew
darker as the moon waned yet more.
Then I said: "Bethink thee that these men shall yet have masters
over them, who have at hand many a law and custom for the behoof
of masters, and being masters can make yet more laws in the same
behoof; and they shall suffer poor people to thrive just so long
as their thriving shall profit the mastership and no longer; and
so shall it be in those days I tell of; for there shall be king
and lords and knights and squires still, with servants to do
their bidding, and make honest men afraid; and all these will
make nothing and eat much as aforetime, and the more that is made
in the land the more shall they crave."
"Yea," said he, "that wot I well, that these are of the kin of
the daughters of the horse-leech; but how shall they slake their
greed, seeing that as thou sayest villeinage shall be gone?
Belike their men shall pay them quit-rents and do them service,
as free men may, but all this according to law and not
beyond it; so that though the workers shall be richer than they
now be, the lords shall be no richer, and so all shall be on the
road to being free and equal."
Said I, "Look you, friend; aforetime the lords, for the most
part, held the land and all that was on it, and the men that were
on it worked for them as their horses worked, and after they were
fed and housed all was the lords'; but in the time to come the
lords shall see their men thriving on the land and shall say once
more, `These men have more than they need, why have we not the
surplus since we are their lords?' Moreover, in those days shall
betide much chaffering for wares between man and man, and country
and country; and the lords shall note that if there were less
corn and less men on their lands there would be more sheep, that
is to say more wool for chaffer, and that thereof they should
have abundantly more than aforetime; since all the land they
own, and it pays them quit-rent or service, save here and there a
croft or a close of a yeoman; and all this might grow wool for
them to sell to the Easterlings. Then shall England see a new
thing, for whereas hitherto men have lived on the land and by it,
the land shall no longer need them, but many sheep and a few
shepherds shall make wool grow to be sold for money to the
Easterlings, and that money shall the lords pouch: for, look you,
they shall set the lawyers a-work and the strong hand moreover,
and the land they shall take to themselves and their sheep; and
except for these lords of land few shall be the free men that
shall hold a rood of land whom the word of their lord may not
turn adrift straightway."
"How mean you?" said John Ball: "shall all men be villeins
again?"
"Nay," said I, "there shall be no villeins in England."
"Surely then," said he, "it shall be worse, and all men save
a few shall be thralls to be bought and sold at the cross."
"Good friend," said I, "it shall not be so; all men shall be free
even as ye would have it; yet, as I say, few indeed shall have so
much land as they can stand upon save by buying such a grace of
their masters."
"And now," said he, "I wot not what thou sayest. I know a
thrall, and he is his master's every hour, and never his own; and
a villein I know, and whiles he is his own and whiles his lord's;
and I know a free man, and he is his own always; but how shall he
be his own if he have nought whereby to make his livelihood? Or
shall he be a thief and take from others? Then is he an outlaw.
Wonderful is this thou tellest of a free man with nought whereby
to live!"
"Yet so it shall be," said I, "and by such free men shall all
wares be made."
"Nay, that cannot be; thou art talking riddles," said he;
"for how shall a woodwright make a chest without the wood and the
tools?"
Said I, "He must needs buy leave to labour of them that own all
things except himself and such as himself."
"Yea, but wherewith shall he buy it?" said John Ball. "What hath
he except himself?"
"With himself then shall he buy it," quoth I, "with his body and
the power of labour that lieth therein; with the price of his
labour shall he buy leave to labour."
"Riddles again!" said he; "how can he sell his labour for aught
else but his daily bread? He must win by his labour meat and
drink and clothing and housing! Can he sell his labour twice
over?"
"Not so," said I, "but this shall he do belike; he shall sell
himself, that is the labour that is in him, to the master that
suffers him to work, and that master shall give to him from out
of the wares he maketh enough to keep him alive, and to
beget children and nourish them till they be old enough to be
sold like himself, and the residue shall the rich man keep to
himself."
John Ball laughed aloud, and said: "Well, I perceive we are not
yet out of the land of riddles. The man may well do what thou
sayest and live, but he may not do it and live a free man."
"Thou sayest sooth," said I.
CHAPTER XI
HARD IT IS FOR THE OLD WORLD TO
SEE THE NEW
He held his peace awhile, and then he said: "But no man selleth
himself and his children into thraldom uncompelled; nor is any
fool so great a fool as willingly to take the name of freeman and
the life of a thrall as payment for the very life of a freeman.
Now would I ask thee somewhat else; and I am the readier to do so
since I perceive that thou art a wondrous seer; for surely no man
could of his own wit have imagined a tale of such follies as thou
hast told me. Now well I wot that men having once shaken
themselves clear of the burden of villeinage, as thou sayest we
shall do (and I bless thee for the word), shall never bow
down to this worser tyranny without sore strife in the
world; and surely so sore shall it be, before our valiant sons
give way, that maids and little lads shall take the sword and the
spear, and in many a field men's blood and not water shall turn
the gristmills of England. But when all this is over, and the
tyranny is established, because there are but few men in the land
after the great war, how shall it be with you then? Will there
not be many soldiers and sergeants and few workers? Surely in
every parish ye shall have the constables to see that the men
work; and they shall be saying every day, `Such an one, hast thou
yet sold thyself for this day or this week or this year? Go to
now, and get thy bargain done, or it shall be the worse for
thee.' And wheresoever work is going on there shall be
constables again, and those that labour shall labour under the
whip like the Hebrews in the land of Egypt. And every man that
may, will steal as a dog snatches at a bone; and there again
shall ye need more soldiers and more constables till the land is
eaten up by them; nor shall the lords and the masters even be
able to bear the burden of it; nor will their gains be so great,
since that which each man may do in a day is not right great when
all is said."
"Friend," said I, "from thine own valiancy and high heart thou
speakest, when thou sayest that they who fall under this tyranny
shall fight to the death against it. Wars indeed there shall be
in the world, great and grievous, and yet few on this score;
rather shall men fight as they have been fighting in France at
the bidding of some lord of the manor, or some king, or at last
at the bidding of some usurer and forestaller of the market.
Valiant men, forsooth, shall arise in the beginning of these evil
times, but though they shall die as ye shall, yet shall not their
deaths be fruitful as yours shall be; because ye, forsooth, are
fighting against villeinage which is waning, but they shall
fight against usury which is waxing. And, moreover, I have been
telling thee how it shall be when the measure of the time is
full; and we, looking at these things from afar, can see them as
they are indeed; but they who live at the beginning of those
times and amidst them, shall not know what is doing around them;
they shall indeed feel the plague and yet not know the remedy; by
little and by little they shall fall from their better
livelihood, and weak and helpless shall they grow, and have no
might to withstand the evil of this tyranny; and then again when
the times mend somewhat and they have but a little more ease,
then shall it be to them like the kingdom of heaven, and they
shall have no will to withstand any tyranny, but shall think
themselves happy that they be pinched somewhat less. Also
whereas thou sayest that there shall be for ever constables and
sergeants going to and fro to drive men to work, and that
they will not work save under the lash, thou art wrong and it
shall not be so; for there shall ever be more workers than the
masters may set to work, so that men shall strive eagerly for
leave to work; and when one says, I will sell my hours at such
and such a price, then another will say, and I for so much less;
so that never shall the lords lack slaves willing to work, but
often the slaves shall lack lords to buy them."
"Thou tellest marvels indeed," said he; "but how then? if all the
churls work not, shall there not be famine and lack of wares?"
"Famine enough," said I, "yet not from lack of wares; it shall be
clean contrary. What wilt thou say when I tell thee that in the
latter days there shall be such traffic and such speedy travel
across the seas that most wares shall be good cheap, and bread of
all things the cheapest?"
Quoth he: "I should say that then there would be better
livelihood for men, for in times of plenty it is well; for then
men eat that which their own hands have harvested, and need
not to spend of their substance in buying of others. Truly, it
is well for honest men, but not so well for forestallers and
regraters;[2] but who heeds what befalls such foul swine, who
filch the money from people's purses, and do not one hair's turn
of work to help them?"
[2] Forestaller, one who buys up goods when they are cheap, and
so raises the price for his own benefit; forestalls the due and
real demand. Regrater, one who both buys and sells in the same
market, or within five miles thereof; buys, say a ton of cheese
at 10 A.M. and sells it at 5 P.M. a penny a pound dearer without
moving from his chair. The word "monopolist" will cover both
species of thief.
"Yea, friend," I said, "but in those latter days all power shall
be in the hands of these foul swine, and they shall be the rulers
of all; therefore, hearken, for I tell thee that times of plenty
shall in those days be the times of famine, and all shall pray
for the prices of wares to rise, so that the forestallers and
regraters may thrive, and that some of their well-doing may
overflow on to those on whom they live."
"I am weary of thy riddles," he said. "Yet at least I hope that
there may be fewer and fewer folk in the land; as may well be, if
life is then so foul and wretched."
"Alas, poor man!" I said; "nor mayst thou imagine how foul and
wretched it may be for many of the folk; and yet I tell thee that
men shall increase and multiply, till where there is one man in
the land now, there shall be twenty in those days--yea, in some
places ten times twenty."
"I have but little heart to ask thee more questions," said he;
"and when thou answerest, thy words are plain, but the things
they tell of I may scarce understand. But tell me this: in those
days will men deem that so it must be for ever, as great men even
now tell us of our ills, or will they think of some remedy?"
I looked about me. There was but a glimmer of light in the
church now, but what there was, was no longer the strange
light of the moon, but the first coming of the kindly day.
"Yea," said John Ball, "'tis the twilight of the dawn. God and
St. Christopher send us a good day!"
"John Ball," said I, "I have told thee that thy death will bring
about that which thy life has striven for: thinkest thou that the
thing which thou strivest for is worth the labour? or dost thou
believe in the tale I have told thee of the days to come?"
He said: "I tell thee once again that I trust thee for a seer;
because no man could make up such a tale as thou; the things
which thou tellest are too wonderful for a minstrel, the tale too
grievous. And whereas thou askest as to whether I count my
labour lost, I say nay; if so be that in those latter times (and
worser than ours they will be) men shall yet seek a remedy:
therefore again I ask thee, is it so that they shall?"
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