Dame History is so austere a lady
that if one, has been so ill-advised as to take a
liberty with her, one should hasten to make amends
by repentance and confession. Events have been
transposed to the extent of some few months in this
narrative in order to preserve the continuity and
evenness of the story. I hope so small a divergence
may seem a venial error after so many centuries.
For the rest, it is as accurate as a good deal of
research and hard work could make it.
The matter of diction is always a
question of taste and discretion in a historical reproduction.
In the year 1350 the upper classes still spoke Norman-French,
though they were just beginning to condescend to English.
The lower classes spoke the English of the original
Piers Plowman text, which would be considerably more
obscure than their superiors’ French if the
two were now reproduced or imitated. The most
which the chronicles can do is to catch the cadence
and style of their talk, and to infuse here and there
such a dash of the archaic as may indicate their fashion
of speech.
I am aware that there are incidents
which may strike the modern reader as brutal and repellent.
It is useless, however, to draw the Twentieth Century
and label it the Fourteenth. It was a sterner
age, and men’s code of morality, especially
in matters of cruelty, was very different. There
is no incident in the text for which very good warrant
may not be given. The fantastic graces of Chivalry
lay upon the surface of life, but beneath it was a
half-savage population, fierce and animal, with little
ruth or mercy. It was a raw, rude England, full
of elemental passions, and redeemed only by elemental
virtues. Such I have tried to draw it.
For good or bad, many books have gone
to the building of this one. I look round my
study table and I survey those which lie with me at
the moment, before I happily disperse them forever.
I see La Croix’s “Middle Ages,”
Oman’s “Art of War,” Rietstap’s
“Armorial General,” De la Borderie’s
“Histoire de Bretagne,” Dame
Berner’s “Boke of St. Albans,” “The
Chronicle of Jocelyn of Brokeland,” “The
Old Road,” Hewitt’s “Ancient Armour,”
Coussan’s “Heraldry,” Boutell’s
“Arms,” Browne’s “Chaucer’s
England,” Cust’s “Scenes of the Middle
Ages,” Husserand’s “Wayfaring Life,”
Ward’s “Canterbury Pilgrims;” Cornish’s
“Chivalry,” Hastings’ “British
Archer,” Strutt’s “Sports,”
Johnes Froissart, Hargrove’s “Archery,”
Longman’s “Edward III,” Wright’s
“Domestic Manners.” With these and
many others I have lived for months. If I have
been unable to combine and transfer their effect, the
fault is mine.
Arthur conan Doyle.
“UNDERSHAW,” November 30, 1905.