is signed Philogenet of Cambridge, Clerk,' and Learned at Padua of a worthy clerk- And right anon as I the day espied, All green and white was nothing else seen. The destruction of the Royal Manor at Woodstock, and the subsequent erection of Blenheim, have changed the appearance of this classic ground; but the poet's morning walk may still be traced, and some venerable oaks that may have waved over him, lend poetic and historical interest to the spot. The opening of the reign of Richard II. was unpropitious to Chaucer. He became involved in the civil and religious troubles of the times, and joined with the party of John of Northampton, who was attached to the doctrines of Wickliffe, in resisting the measures of the court. The poet fled to Hainault (the country of his wife's relations), and afterwards to Holland. He ventured to return in 1386, but was thrown into the Tower, and deprived of his comptrollership. In May 1388, he obtained leave to dispose of his two patents of twenty marks each; a measure prompted, no doubt, by necessity. He obtained his release by impeaching his previous associates, and confessing to his misdemeanours, offering also to prove the truth of his information by entering the lists of combat with the accused parties. The tale thus learned is the pathetic story of Patient How far this transaction involves the character of Grisilde, which, in fact, was written by Boccaccio, the poet, we cannot now ascertain. He has painted and only translated into Latin by Petrarch. Why,' his suffering and distress, the odium which he inasks Mr Godwin, did Chaucer choose to confess curred, and his indignation at the bad conduct of his his obligation for it to Petrarch rather than to Boc- former confederates, in powerful and affecting lancaccio, from whose volume Petrarch confessedly guage in his prose work, the Testament of Love. The translated it? For this very natural reason-be- sunshine of royal favour was not long withheld after cause he was eager to commemorate his interview this humiliating submission. In 1389, Chaucer is with this venerable patriarch of Italian letters, and registered as clerk of the works at Westminster; to record the pleasure he had reaped from his society.' and next year he was appointed to the same office at We fear this is mere special pleading; but it would Windsor. These were only temporary situations, be a pity that so pleasing an illusion should be dis- held about twenty months; but he afterwards repelled. Whether or not the two poets ever met, the ceived a grant of £20, and a tun of wine, per anItalian journey of Chaucer, and the fame of Petrarch, num. The name of the poet does not occur again must have kindled his poetical ambition and refined for some years, and he is supposed to have retired his taste. The Divine Comedy of Dante had shed a to Woodstock, and there composed his Canterbury glory over the literature of Italy; Petrarch received Tales. In 1398, a patent of protection was granted his crown of laurel in the Capitol of Rome only five to him by the crown; but, from the terms of the years before Chaucer first appeared as a poet (his deed, it is difficult to say whether it is an amnesty Court of Love was written about the year 1346); and for political offences, or a safeguard from creditors. Boccaccio (more poetical in his prose than his verse) In the following year, still brighter prospects opened had composed that inimitable century of tales, his on the aged poet. Henry of Bolingbroke, the son Decameron, in which the charms of romance are of his brother-in-law, John of Gaunt, ascended the clothed in all the pure and sparkling graces of com- throne: Chaucer's annuity was continued, and forty position. These illustrious examples must have in-marks additional were granted. Thomas Chaucer, spired the English traveller; but the rude northern whom Mr Godwin seems to prove to have been the speech with which he had to deal, formed a chilling poet's son, was made chief butler, and elected Speaker contrast to the musical language of Italy! Edward of the House of Commons. The last time that the III. continued his patronage to the poet. He was poet's name occurs in any public document, is in a made comptroller of the customs of wine and wool lease made to him by the abbot, prior and convent in the port of London, and had a pitcher of wine of Westminster, of a tenement situate in the gardaily from the royal table, which was afterwards den of the chapel, at the yearly rent of 53s. 4d. commuted into a pension of twenty marks. He was This is dated on the 24th of December 1399; and appointed a joint envoy to France to treat of a mar- on the 25th of October 1400, the poet died in Lonriage between the Prince of Wales and Mary, the don, most probably in the house he had just leased, daughter of the French king. At home, he is sup- which stood on the site of Henry VII.'s chapel. He posed to have resided in a house granted by the was buried in Westminster Abbey-the first of that king, near the royal manor at Woodstock, where, illustrious file of poets whose ashes rest in the sacred according to the description in his Dream, he was edifice. surrounded with every mark of luxury and distinction. The scenery of Woodstock Park has been described in the Dream with some graphic and picturesque touches : The character of Chaucer may be seen in his works. He was the counterpart of Shakspeare in cheerfulness and benignity of disposition-no enemy to mirth and joviality, yet delighting in his books, and studious in the midst of an active life. He was an enemy to superstition and priestly abuse, but playful in his satire, with a keen sense of the ludicrous, and the richest vein of comic narrative and delineation of character, He retained through life a strong love of the country, and of its inspiring and invigorating influences. No poet has dwelt more fondly on the charms of a spring or summer morning; and the month of May seems to have been always a carnival in his heart and fancy. His retirement at Woodstock, where he had indulged the poetical reveries of his youth, and where he was crowned with the latest treasures of his genius, was exactly such an old age as could have been desired for the venerable founder of our national poetry. period of their sojourn; and we have thus a hundred stories, lively, humorous, or tender, and full of characteristic painting in choice Italian. Chaucer seems to have copied this design, as well as part of the Florentine's freedom and licentiousness of detail; but he greatly improved upon the plan. There is something repulsive and unnatural in a party of ladies and gentlemen meeting to tell loose tales of successful love and licentious monks while the plague is desolating the country around them. The tales of Chaucer have a more pleasing origin. A company of pilgrims, consisting of twenty-nine 'sundry folk,' meet together in fellowship at the Tabard Inn, Southwark,* all being bent on a pilgrimage to the shrine of Thomas à Becket at Canterbury. These pilgrimages were scenes of much enjoyment, and even mirth; for, satisfied with thwarting the Evil One by the object of their mission, the devotees did not consider it necessary to preserve any religious Chaucer's Tomb. The principal of Chaucer's minor poems are the Flower and Leaf, a spirited and graceful allegorical poem, with some fine description; and Troilus and Cresseide, partly translated, but enriched with many marks of his original genius. Sir Philip Sidney admired this pathetic poem, and it was long popular. Warton and every subsequent critic have quoted with just admiration the passage in which Cresseide makes an avowal of her love: And as the new-abashed nightingale, That stinteth first when she beginneth sing, When that she heareth any herdes tale, Or in the hedges any wight stirring, And after, sicker, doth her voice outring; Right so Cresseide, when that her dread stent, Opened her heart, and told him her intent. The House of Fame, afterwards so richly paraphrased by Pope, contains some bold imagery, and the romantic machinery of Gothic fable. It is, however, very unequal in execution, and extravagant in conception. Warton has pointed out many anachronisms in these poems. We can readily believe that the unities of time and place were little regarded by the old poet. They were as much defied by Shakspeare; but in both we have the higher qualities of true feeling, passion, and excitement, which blind us to mere scholastic blemishes and defects. The Canterbury Tales form the best and most durable monument of Chaucer's genius. Boccaccio, in his Decameron, supposes ten persons to have retired from Florence during the plague of 1348, and there, in a sequestered villa, amused themselves by relating tales after dinner. Ten days formed the Tabard Inn, Southwark. The strictness or restraint by the way. The poet himself is one of the party at the Tabard. They all sup together in the large room of the hostelrie; and after great cheer, the landlord proposes that they shall travel together to Canterbury; and, to shorten their way, that each shall tell a tale, both in going and returning, and whoever told the best, should have a supper at the expense of the rest. company assent, and mine host' (who was both bold of his speech, and wise and well taught') is appointed to be judge and reporter of the stories. The characters composing this social party are inimitably drawn and discriminated. We have a knight, a mirror of chivalry, who had fought against the Heathenesse in Palestine; his son, a gallant young squire with curled locks, laid in presse' and all manner of debonair accomplishments; a nun, or prioress, beautifully drawn in her arch simplicity and coy reserve; and a jolly monk, who boasted a dainty, well-caparisoned horse And when he rode men might his bridle hear Gingling in a whistling wind as clear, And eke as loud as doth the chapel bell. *The house is supposed still to exist, or an inn built upon the site of it, from which the personages of the Canterbury Tales set out upon their pilgrimage. The sign has been converted by a confusion of speech from the Tabard-" a sleeveless coat worn in times past by noblemen in the wars," but now hound; and the following inscription is to be found on the only by heralds (Speght's Glossary)-to the Talbot, a species of spot: "This is the inn where Geoffrey Chaucer and nine-andtwenty pilgrims lodged on their journey to Canterbury in 1383." The inscription is truly observed by Mr Tyrrwhit to be modern, and of little authority.'-Godwin's Life of Chaucer. A wanton friar is also of the party-full of sly and solemn mirth, and well beloved for his accommodating disposition Full sweetly heard he confession, And pleasant was his absolution. We have a Pardoner from Rome, with some sacred relics (as part of the Virgin Mary's veil, and part of the sail of St Peter's ship), and who is also brimful of pardons come from Rome all hot. In satirical contrast to these merry and interested churchmen, we have a poor parson of a town, rich in holy thought and work,' and a clerk of Oxford, who was skilled in logic Sounding in moral virtue was his speech, ral objects and scenery, in Chaucer's clear and simple style. The tales of the miller and reve are coarse, but richly humorous. Dryden and Pope have honoured the Father of British verse by paraphrasing some of these popular productions, and stripping them equally of their antiquated style and the more gross of their expressions, but with the sacrifice of most that is characteristic in the elder bard. In a volume edited by Mr R. H. Horne, under the title of Chaucer Modernised, there are specimens of the poems altered with a much more tender regard to the original, and in some instances with considerable success; but the book by which ordinary readers of the present day, who are willing to take a little trouble, may best become acquainted with this great light of the fourteenth century, is one entitled the Riches of Chaucer, by C. C. Clarke (two volumes, Yet, with all his learning, the clerk's coat was thread-1835), in which the best pieces are given, with only bare, and his horse was lean as is a rake.' Among the other dramatis personu are, a doctor of physic, a great astronomer and student, whose study was but little on the Bible;' a purse-proud merchant; a sergeant of law, who was always busy, yet seemed busier than he was; and a jolly Franklin, or freeholder, who had been a lord of sessions, and was fond of good eating— Withouten baked meat never was his house, Of fish and flesh, and that so plenteous; It snowed in his house of meat and drink. This character is a fine picture of the wealthy rural Englishman, and it shows how much of enjoyment and hospitality was even then associated with this station of life. The Wife of Bath is another lively national portrait: she is shrewd and witty, has abundant means, and is always first with her offering at church. Among the humbler characters are, a stout carl' of a miller, a reve or bailiff, and a sompnour or church apparitor, who summoned offenders before the archdeacon's court, but whose fire-red face and licentious habits contrast curiously with the nature of his duties. A shipman, cook, haberdasher, &c., make up the goodly companythe whole forming such a genuine Hogarthian picture, that we may exclaim, in the eloquent language of Campbell, What an intimate scene of English life in the fourteenth century do we enjoy in these tales, beyond what history displays by glimpses through the stormy atmosphere of her scenes, or the antiquary can discover by the cold light of his researches Chaucer's contemporaries and their successors were justly proud of this national work. Many copies existed in manuscript, and when the art of printing came to England, one of the first duties of Caxton's press was to issue an impression of those tales which first gave literary permanence and consistency to the language and poetry of England. All the pilgrims in the Canterbury Tales do not relate stories. Chaucer had not, like Boccaccio, finished his design; for he evidently intended to have given a second series on the return of the company from Canterbury, as well as an account of the transactions in the city when they reached the sacred shrine. The concluding supper at the Tabard, when the successful competitor was to be declared, would have afforded a rich display for the poet's peculiar humour. The parties who do not relate tales (as the poem has reached us) are the yeoman, the ploughman, and the five city mechanics. The squire's tale is the most chivalrous and romantic, and that of the clerk, containing the popular legend of Patient Grisilde, is deeply affecting for its pathos and simplicity. The Cock and the Fox,' related by the nun's priest, and January and May,' the merchant's tale, have some minute painting of natu the spelling modernised. An edition of the Canterbury Tales was published, with a learned commentary, by Thomas Tyrwhitt, Esq. (5 vols. 1778). The verse of Chaucer is, almost without exception, in ten-syllabled couplets, the verse in which by far the largest portion of our poetry since that time has been written, and which, as Mr Southey has remarked, may be judged from that circumstance to be best adapted to the character of our speech. The accentuation, by a license since abandoned, is different in many instances from that of common speech: the poet, wherever it suits his conveniency, or his pleasure, makes accented syllables short, and short syllables emphatic. This has been not only a difficulty with ordinary readers, but a subject of perplexity amongst commentators; but the principle has latterly been concluded upon as of the simple kind here stated. Another peculiarity is the making silent e's at the end of words tell in the metre, as in French lyrical poetry to this day: for example Full well she sangé the service divine. Here 'sangé' is two syllables, while service furnishes an example of a transposed accent. In pursuance of the same principle, a monosyllabic noun, as beam, becomes the dissyllable beamés in the plural. When these peculiarities are carefully attended to, much of the difficulty of reading Chaucer, even in the original spelling, vanishes. In the extracts which follow, we present, first, a specimen in the original spelling; then various specimens in the reduced spelling adopted by Mr Clarke, but without his marks of accents and extra syllables, except in a few instances; and, finally, one specimen (the Good Parson), in which, by a few slight changes, the verse is accommodated to the present fashion. [Select characters from the Canterbury Pilgrimage.] Though that he was worthy he was wise; 1 A short cassock. 15 For he was late ycome fro his viage, And wente for to don his pilgrimage. With him, ther was his sone, a yonge Squier, With lockes crull as they were laide in presse. Embrouded was he, as it were a mede A Yeman hadde he; and servantes no mo Ther was also a Nonne, a Prioresse, But for to speken of hire conscience, With rosted flesh, and milk, and wastel brede. Ful semely hire wimple ypinched was; But sikerly she hadde a fayre forehed. Ful fetise was hire cloke, as I was ware. A manly man, to ben an abbot able. The reule of Seint Maure and of Seint Beneit, A Marchant was ther with a forked berd, In mottelee, and highe on hors he sat, And on his hed a Flaundrish bever hat, His bootes clapsed fayre and fetisly, His resons spake he ful solempnely, Souning alway the encrese of his winning. He wold the see were kept, for any thing, Betwixen Middleburgh and Orewell. Wel coud he in eschanges sheldes 9 selle. This worthy man ful wel his wit besette; Ther wiste no wight that he was in dette, So stedfastly didde he in his governance, With his bargeines, and with his chevisance.10 Forsothe he was a worthy man withalle. But soth to sayn, I no't how men him calle. 8 Straight. 4 Of low statura 7 A hard rider. 8 Fur. 10 An agreement for borrowing A Clerk ther was of Oxenforde also, An housholder, and that a grete was he; At sessions ther was he lord and sire; Ful freshe and newe hir gere ypiked was; But all with silver wrought full clene and wel, A good Wif was ther of beside Bathe; But she was som del defe, and that was scathe. Of cloth making she hadde swiche an haunt, She passed hem of Ipres, and of Gaunt. In all the parish, wif ne was ther non That to the offring before hire shulde gonAnd if ther did, certain so wroth was she, That she was out of alle charitee. Hire coverchiefs weren ful fine of ground, (I dorste swere they weyeden a pound), That on the Sonday were upon hire hede: Hire hosen weren of fine scarlet rede, Ful streite yteyed, and shoon ful moist and newe. Bold was hire face, and fayre and rede of hew. She was a worthy woman all hire live: Housbondes, at the chirche dore, had she had five, Withouten other compagnie in youthe, But thereof nedeth not to speke as nouthe. And thries hadde she ben at Jerusaleme; She had passed many a strange streme: At Rome she hadde ben, and at Boloigne, In Galice at Seint James, and at Coloine: She coude moche of wandring by the way, Gat-tothed was she, sothly for to say. Upon an ambler esily she sat, Ywimpled wel; and on hire hede an hat As brode as is a bokeler, or a targe; A fore-mantel about hire hippes large; And on hire fete a pair of sporres sharpe. In felawship, wel coude she laughe and carpe Of remedies of love she knew perchance; For, of that arte, she coude the olde dance. Ther was also a Reve and a Millere, A Sompnour, and a Pardoner also, A Manciple, and myself; ther n'ere no mo. The Miller was a stout carl for the nones, Ful bigge he was of braun, and eke of bones; That proved wel; for over all ther he came, At wrastling he wold bere away the ram. He was short shuldered, brode, a thikke gnarre,1 Ther n'as no dore, that he n'olde heve of barre, Or breke it at a renning with his hede. His berd as any sowe or fox was rede, And therto brode, as though it were a spade: Upon the cop right of his nose he hade A wert, and theron stode a tufte of heres, Rede as the bristles of a sowes eres : His nose-thirles blacke were and wide. A swerd and bokeler bare he by his side. His mouth as wide was as a forneis: He was a jangler, and a goliardeis,2 And that was most of sinne and harlotries. Wel coude he stelen corne and tollen thries. And yet he had a thomb of gold parde. A white cote and a blew hode wered he. A baggepipe wel coude he blowe and soune, And therwithall he brought us out of toune. The Reve was a slendre colerike man; His berd was shave as neighe as ever he can: His here was by his eres round yshorne ; His top was docked like a preest beforne: Ful longe were his legges, and ful lene, Ylike a staff, ther was no calf ysene. Wel coude he kepe a garner and a binne; Ther was non auditour coude on him winne. Wel wiste he, by the drought and by the rain, The yelding of his seed and of his grain. His fordes shepe, his nete,3 and his deirie,4 His swine, his hors, his store, and his pultrie, Were holly in this Reves governing; And by his covenant yave he rekening, Sin that his lord were twenty yere of age; Ther coude no man bring him in arerage. 2 |