My wages ben ful streit and eke ful smale; My lord is hard to me and dangerous, Now certes (quod this Sompnour), so fare I; I spare not to taken, God it wote, But leve brother, tell me than thy name, Quod this Sompnour. Right in this mene while, This yeman gan a litel for to smile. Brother, quod be, wolt thou that I I am a yeman knowen is ful wide ; My trouthe wol I hold to thee, my brother, As I have sworne, and eche of us to other, For to be trewe brethren in this cas, And I shal min, thus may we bothe leve. And if that any of us have more than other, Let him be trewe, and part it with his brother. I graunte, quod the devil, by my fay. And with that word they riden forth hir way, Whan that they comen somwhat out of toun, This Sompnour to his brother gan to roune; Brother, quod he, here woneth an old rebekke, That had almost as lefe to lese hire nekke, As for to yeve a peny of hire good. I wol have twelf pens though that she be wood, Or I wol somone hire to our office; And yet, God wot, of hire know I no vice. But for thou canst not, as in this contree, Winnen thy cost, take here ensample of me. This Sompnour clappeth at the widewes gate; Come out, he sayd, thou olde very trate; I trow thou hast some frere or preest with thee. Who clappeth? said this wif, benedicite, God save you, sire, what is your swete will? I have, quod he, of somons here a Up peine of cursing loke that thou be Now lord, quod she, Crist Jesu, king So wisly help me, as I ne may. me? respectability, and I hold myself as firmly pledged to you, as you do yourself to me. We are to ride and prosper together. You are to take what people give you, and I am to take what I can get; and if the profits turn out to be unequal, we divide them.' "'Quite right,' said the devil; and so they push forward. "The companions continued their way through the town, and were just quitting it, when the Summoner, pulling his bridle as he reached a cottage-door, said, 'There's an old hag living here, who would almost as soon break her neck as part with a halfpenny. I'll get a shil ling out of her, for all that, though it drive her mad. She shall have a summons else, and that'll be worse for her. Not that she ever committed any offence, God knows. That's another business. But mark me now; and see what you must do if you would get any thing in these parts.' Pay me, quod he, or by the swete As I wol bere away thy newe panne I paied at home for thy correction. Thou liest, quod she, by my salvation. Ne was I never or now, widew ne wif, Sompned unto your court in all my lif; Ne never I n'as but of my body trewe. Unto the devil rough and blake of hewe Yeve I thy body and my panne also. Scrape about my husband!' cried the old widow, what scrape? are a lying wretch. I never was in any scrape about my husband or any thing; nor ever summoned into your court in all my born days. Go to the devil yourself! May he take you and the pan together!' "The poor old soul fell on her knees as she uttered these words, in order to give the greater strength to the impreca tion. Repent!' exclaimed the Summoner. I'd sooner take every rag you have on your bones, you old reprobate !' "Now, brother,' said the devil, ' calm your feelings. I'm very sorry, but you must e'en go where the old woman desires. You and the pan are mine. We must arrive to night, and then you'll know more about us and all our craft than ever was discovered by Doctor of Divinity' "And with these words, sure enough, the devil carried him off. He took him to the place where summoners are in the habit of going." Queen's columns for the better hanging of the picture. It looks very well, all things considered. The quiet smile of Chaucer is well trans. ferred to the modern frame; but a little of his natural pathos-those simple circumstances which he loved to introduce even into his merriest sketches-is, perhaps, wanting. The complaint of the old woman, that she had been sick "full many a day," is scarcely preserved in "the poor sick body" of the new version. The eye misses the long perspective of suffering, with the old cottage in the distance. The tale itself belongs to the lowest order of the poet's genius, being entirely wanting in his rural touches, and the gay colours of red skies, bloom, and sunshine. Perhaps he felt that the shadow of trees would be out of harmony with the utter and irreclaimable wickedness of his hero, for whom he provides a duskier background. The portrait of the Summoner, swelling with vice and blasphemy, is vividly drawn: his ignorance, also, is in keeping with his brutality; as, indeed, is generally seen in nature. So is his conceit. He is fond of enriching his conversation with Latin words, picked up from proceedings in the courts he represented. This story, like most of its companions, requires a running pen here and there. Warton remarked of Chaucer, that his writings altogether refute the vulgar notion of ages of simplicity being marked by purity. The grossness of rude periods is their luxury. Men are less ashamed as they are less polite. Enough has been said upon the wonderful accuracy of Chaucer's delineations of character; anticipating the novelists, as well as the poets. It seems, however, that the use of the word humour, indicating oddities of temperament, was not known in this sense before the time of Ben Jonson. Such, at least, is the opinion of Whalley, which Gifford echoed. About that period, the manners of a Play began to be called the humours. Jonson, who never wanted * Every Man out of his Humour. learning, defined the meaning and proper application of the word, and puts them into the mouth of Asper, in one of his elaborate comedies." Humour has the property of fluids, that it cannot contain itself, always flowing to and fro; so with the pas sions, they are constantly in motion, and circulating through every part of the body. Hence the truth and force of the general metaphor, as illustrative of the tempers and dispositions of men : "As when some one peculiar quality Doth so possess a man that it doth draw All his effects, his spirits, and his powers, In their confluctions all to run one way, This may be truly said to be a humour." If Chaucer had not the name, he had the thing. The volume contains some good examples of Goldsmith, worthy to be named after Chaucer, for naturalness, liveliness, and truth; and concludes with Wolcot, the once notorious Peter Pindar,-a contemptible person, who always recalls to our memory the indignation of Plato against Homer's sacrilegious freedom with the gods, in making them give way to laughter. The mirth of Wolcot is of the lowest order,—the travestie of wit. Mr. Hunt prints his best and most unobjectionable performance, the versification of conversations between Mrs. Thrale and Boswell; this he calls masterly, for its facility and straightforwardness. "To compare great things with small, I can say that Lear does not more surely move me to tears, or Spenser charm me, than I am thrown into fits of laughter when I hear these rhyming Johnsoniana." We, who have less mirthfulness in us, and who have seen in the case of Marvell how easily Mr. Hunt is driven to hold both his sides, cannot quite echo this panegyric. But the descriptions are fine specimens of quizzing.t +"Mad. Piozzi, The Doctor said, In literary matters, Once more: INDEX TO VOL. XXXIV. Bohn's De Grammont, 603 Bowring, Dr. Contemporary Orators, Bright, Mr. Contemporary Orators, No. Brittany, A Boar-Hunt in. By a Resi- Brotherton, Major-General, and Colonel Brougham's Men of Letters and Science, 67 Cabinet, A Few Words about the, and Campaign of Prussia, Chap. I. 49; Chap. Campaign of Wagram, Chap. I. 283; Christie, Mr. William Dougal. Con- Clergyman, The Young Country, 686 Contemporary Orators. No. XI. Corn- Law Speakers, Pro and Con, 91; the Wood, 212; Mr. T. Milner Gibson, Cunningham (John) Life of the Strol- De Grammont, by Bohn, 603 |