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diff --git a/43984-0.txt b/43984-0.txt index 2ff77ad..640b9b3 100644 --- a/43984-0.txt +++ b/43984-0.txt @@ -1,40 +1,4 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Chaucer for Children, by Mrs. H. R. Haweis - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Chaucer for Children - A Golden Key - -Author: Mrs. H. R. Haweis - -Illustrator: Mrs. H. R. Haweis - -Release Date: October 20, 2013 [EBook #43984] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHAUCER FOR CHILDREN *** - - - - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive.) - - - - - - - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43984 *** CHAUCER FOR CHILDREN @@ -8414,360 +8378,4 @@ meaning control. End of Project Gutenberg's Chaucer for Children, by Mrs. H. R. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Chaucer for Children - A Golden Key - -Author: Mrs. H. R. Haweis - -Illustrator: Mrs. H. R. Haweis - -Release Date: October 20, 2013 [EBook #43984] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHAUCER FOR CHILDREN *** - - - - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive.) - - - - - - - - - -CHAUCER FOR CHILDREN - - - - -KEY TO THE COVER. - - -The 1st Arch contains a glimpse of Palamon and Arcite fighting -desperately, yet wounded oftener and sharplier by Love's arrows than by -each deadly stroke. The ruthless boy aloft showers gaily upon them his -poisoned shafts. - -The 2nd contains Aurelius and Dorigen--that loving wife left on Breton -shores, who was so nearly caught in the trap she set for herself. Aurelius -offers her his heart aflame. It is true his attitude is humble, but she is -utterly in his power--she cannot get away whilst he is kneeling on her -dress. - -The 3rd represents the Summoner led away, but this time neither to profit -nor to pleasure, by his horned companion. The wicked spirit holds the -reins of both horses in his hand, and the Summoner already quakes in -anticipation of what is in store for him. - -The 4th contains the three rioters. The emblem of that Death they sought -so wantonly hangs over their heads; the reward of sin is not far off. - -The 5th Arch is too much concealed by the lock to do more than suggest one -of Griselda's babes. - -The KEY, from which the book takes its name, we trust may unlock the too -little known treasures of the first of English poets. The _Daisy_, symbol -for all time both of Chaucer and of children, and thus curiously fitted to -be the connecting link between them, may point the way to lessons fairer -than flowers in stories as simple as daisies. - - - - -_CHAUCER FOR CHILDREN_ - - - - -Demy 8vo, cloth limp, 2_s._ 6_d._ - -CHAUCER FOR SCHOOLS. - -By MRS. HAWEIS, Author of 'CHAUCER FOR CHILDREN.' - - _This is a copious and judicious selection from Chaucer's Tales, with - full notes on the history, manners, customs, and language of the - fourteenth century, with marginal glossary and a literal poetical - version in modern English in parallel columns with the original - poetry. Six of the Canterbury Tales are thus presented, in sections of - from 10 to 200 lines, mingled with prose narrative. 'Chaucer for - Schools' is issued to meet a widely-expressed want, and is especially - adapted for class instruction. It may be profitably studied in - connection with the maps and illustrations of 'Chaucer for Children.'_ - -'We hail with pleasure the appearance of Mrs. Haweis's "Chaucer for -Schools." Her account of "Chaucer the Tale-teller" is certainly the -pleasantest, chattiest, and at the same time one of the soundest -descriptions of the old master, his life and works and general -surroundings, that have ever been written. The chapter cannot be too -highly praised.'--ACADEMY. - -'The authoress is in such felicitous harmony with her task, that the young -student, who in this way first makes acquaintance with Chaucer, may well -through life ever after associate Mrs. Haweis with the rare productions of -the father of English poetry.'--SCHOOL-BOARD CHRONICLE. - -'Unmistakably presents the best means yet provided of introducing young -pupils to the study of our first great poet.'--SCOTSMAN. - -'In her "Chaucer for Schools" Mrs. Haweis has prepared a great assistance -for boys and girls who have to make the acquaintance of the poet. Even -grown people, who like their reading made easy for them, will find the -book a pleasant companion.'--GUARDIAN. - -'The subject has been dealt with in such a full and comprehensive way, -that the book must be commended to everyone whose study of early English -poetry has been neglected.'--DAILY CHRONICLE. - -'We venture to think that this happy idea will attract to the study of -Chaucer not a few children of a larger growth, who have found Chaucer to -be very hard reading, even with the help of a glossary and copious notes. -Mrs. Haweis's book displays throughout most excellent and patient -workmanship, and it cannot fail to induce many to make themselves more -fully acquainted with the writings of the father of English -literature.'--ECHO. - -'The book is a mine of poetic beauty and most scholarly explanation, which -deserves a place on the shelves of every school library.'--SCHOOL -NEWSPAPER. - -'For those who have yet to make the acquaintance of the sweet and quaint -singer, there could not well be a better book than this. Mrs. Haweis is, -of course, an enthusiast, and her enthusiasm is contagious. Her volume -ought to be included in all lists of school books--at least, in schools -where boys and girls are supposed to be laying the foundations of a -liberal education.'--LITERARY WORLD. - -'Mrs. Haweis has, by her "Chaucer for Schools," rendered invaluable -assistance to those who are anxious to promote the study of English -literature in our higher and middle-grade schools.... Although this -edition of Chaucer has been expressly prepared for school use, it will be -of great service to many adult readers.'--SCHOOL GUARDIAN. - - -CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY, W. - - - - -[Illustration: MINE HOST ASSEMBLING THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS. - -KNIGHT. SQUIRE. BOY. WIFE OF BATH. PRIORESS. CHAUCER (A CLERK). FRIAR. -MINE HOST. MONK. SUMMONER. PARDONER. SECOND NUN. FRANKLIN.] - - - - - CHAUCER FOR CHILDREN - - A Golden Key - - - BY MRS. H. R. HAWEIS - - - _ILLUSTRATED WITH EIGHT COLOURED PICTURES AND NUMEROUS WOODCUTS - BY THE AUTHOR_ - - - [Illustration: 'Doth now your devoir, yonge knightes proude!'] - - - A New Edition, Revised. - - - London - CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY - 1882 - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHIEFLY FOR THE USE AND PLEASURE OF MY LITTLE LIONEL, FOR WHOM I FELT THE -NEED OF SOME BOOK OF THE KIND, I HAVE ARRANGED AND ILLUSTRATED THIS -CHAUCER STORY-BOOK. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - FOREWORDS TO THE SECOND EDITION ix - - FOREWORDS xi - - CHAUCER THE TALE-TELLER 1 - - CANTERBURY TALES:-- - CHAUCER'S PILGRIMS 17 - CHAUCER'S PROLOGUE 18 - THE KNIGHT'S TALE 34 - THE FRIAR'S TALE 57 - THE CLERK'S TALE 65 - THE FRANKLIN'S TALE 84 - THE PARDONER'S TALE 92 - - MINOR POEMS:-- - COMPLAINT OF CHAUCER TO HIS PURSE 100 - TWO RONDEAUX 101 - VIRELAI 102 - GOOD COUNSEL OF CHAUCER 104 - - NOTES ON THE PICTURES 107 - - - - -List of Illustrations. - - -COLOURED PICTURES. - - PAGE - - I. PILGRIMS STARTING _Frontispiece_ - - II. DINNER IN THE OLDEN TIME _To face_ 2 - - III. LADY CROSSING THE STREET " 6 - - IV. FAIR EMELYE " 37 - - V. GRISELDA'S MARRIAGE " 69 - - VI. GRISELDA'S BEREAVEMENT " 72 - - VII. DORIGEN AND AURELIUS " 86 - - VIII. THE RIOTER " 97 - - CHAUCER'S PORTRAIT " 3 - - -WOODCUTS. - - PAGE - - I. TOURNAMENT _Title-page_ - - II. TABLE 2 - - III. HEAD-DRESSES 2 - - IV. MAPS OF OLD AND MODERN LONDON _To face_ 4 - - V. LADIES' HEAD-DRESSES 5 - - VI. SHOE 6 - - VII. JOHN OF GAUNT 7 - - VIII. SHIP 8 - - IX. STYLUS 10 - - X. THE KNIGHT 19 - - XI. THE SQUIRE 20 - - XII. THE YEOMAN 21 - - XIII. THE PRIORESS 22 - - XIV. THE MONK 24 - - XV. THE FRIAR 25 - - XVI. THE MERCHANT 26 - - XVII. THE CLERK 27 - - XVIII. THE SERJEANT-OF-LAW 28 - - XIX. THE FRANKLIN 28 - - XX. TABLE DORMANT 28 - - XXI. THE DOCTOR OF PHYSIC 29 - - XXII. THE WIFE OF BATH 29 - - XXIII. THE PARSON 30 - - XXIV. THE PLOUGHMAN 31 - - XXV. THE SUMMONER 31 - - XXVI. THE PARDONER 31 - - XXVII. MINE HOST 32 - - XXVIII., XXIX. KNIGHTS IN ARMOUR 48 - - - - -FOREWORDS TO THE SECOND EDITION. - - -In revising _Chaucer for Children_ for a New Edition, I have fully availed -myself of the help and counsel of my numerous reviewers and -correspondents, without weighting the book, which is really designed for -children, with a number of new facts, and theories springing from the new -facts, such as I have incorporated in my Book for older readers, _Chaucer -for Schools_. - -Curious discoveries are still being made, and will continue to be, thanks -to the labours of men like Mr. F. J. Furnivall, and many other able and -industrious scholars, encouraged by the steadily increasing public -interest in Chaucer. - -I must express my sincere thanks and gratification for the reception this -book has met with from the press generally, and from many eminent critics -in particular; and last, not least, from those to whom I devoted my -pleasant toil, the children of England. - -M. E. HAWEIS. - - - - -FOREWORDS. - - -To the Mother. - -A Chaucer for Children may seem to some an impossible story-book, but it -is one which I have been encouraged to put together by noticing how -quickly my own little boy learned and understood fragments of early -English poetry. I believe that if they had the chance, many other children -would do the same. - -I think that much of the construction and pronunciation of old English -which seems stiff and obscure to grown up people, appears easy to -children, whose crude language is in many ways its counterpart. - -The narrative in early English poetry is almost always very simply and -clearly expressed, with the same kind of repetition of facts and names -which, as every mother knows, is what children most require in -story-telling. The emphasis[1] which the final E gives to many words is -another thing which helps to impress the sentences on the memory, the -sense being often shorter than the sound. - -It seems but natural that every English child should know something of one -who left so deep an impression on his age, and on the English tongue, that -he has been called by Occleve "the finder of our fair language." For in -his day there was actually no _national_ language, no _national_ -literature, English consisting of so many dialects, each having its own -literature intelligible to comparatively few; and the Court and educated -classes still adhering greatly to Norman-French for both speaking and -writing. Chaucer, who wrote for the people, chose the best form of -English, which was that spoken at Court, at a time when English was -regaining supremacy over French; and the form he adopted laid the -foundation of our present National Tongue. - -Chaucer is, moreover, a thoroughly religious poet, all his merriest -stories having a fair moral; even those which are too coarse for modern -taste are rather _naïve_ than injurious; and his pages breathe a genuine -faith in God, and a passionate sense of the beauty and harmony of the -divine work. The selections I have made are some of the most beautiful -portions of Chaucer's most beautiful tales. - -I believe that some knowledge of, or at least interest in, the domestic -life and manners of the 13th, 14th, and 15th centuries, would materially -help young children in their reading of English history. The political -life would often be interpreted by the domestic life, and much of that -time which to a child's mind forms the _dryest_ portion of history, -because so unknown, would then stand out as it really was, glorious and -fascinating in its vigour and vivacity, its enthusiasm, and love of beauty -and bravery. There is no clearer or safer exponent of the life of the 14th -century, as far as he describes it, than Geoffrey Chaucer. - -As to the difficulties of understanding Chaucer, they have been greatly -overstated. An occasional reference to a glossary is all that is -requisite; and, with a little attention to a very simple general rule, -anybody with moderate intelligence and an ear for musical rhythm can enjoy -the lines. - -In the first place, it must be borne in mind that the _E_ at the end of -the old English words was usually a syllable, and must be sounded, as -_Aprille_, _swoote_, &c. - -Note, then, that Chaucer is always _rhythmical_. Hardly ever is his rhythm -a shade wrong, and therefore, roughly speaking, _if you pronounce the -words so as to preserve the rhythm_ all will be well. When the final _e_ -must be sounded in order to make the rhythm right, sound it, but where it -is not needed leave it mute.[2] - -Thus:--in the opening lines-- - - Whan that | _April_ | _le_ with | his _schowr_ | _es_ swoote when, - showers, - sweet - The drought | of Marche | hath per | cèd to | the roote pierced, - root - And bath | ud eve | ry veyne | in swich | licour such, - liquor - Of whiche | vertue | engen | drèd is | the flour. (_Prologue._) flower - -You see that in those words which I have put in italics the final E must -be sounded slightly, for the rhythm's sake. - - And _sma_ | _le fow_ | _les_ ma | ken me | lodie small - birds - make - That sle | pen al | the night | with o | pen yhe. (_Prologue._) sleep, - all - -Again, to quote at random-- - - The bu | sy _lark_ | _e_ mess | ager | of day, lark, messenger - Salu | eth in | hire song | the _mor_ | _we_ gray. saluteth, her, - morning - - (_Knight's Tale._) - - Ful _long_ | _e_ wern | his leg | gus, and | ful lene; legs, lean - Al like | a staff | ther was | no calf | y-sene. (_Prologue--'Reve.'_) - -or in Chaucer's exquisite greeting of the daisy-- - - Knelyng | alwey | til it | unclo | sèd was always - Upon | the _sma_ | _le_, _sof_ | _te_, _swo_ | _te_ gras. small, soft, - sweet - - (_Legend of Good Women._) - -How much of the beauty and natural swing of Chaucer's poetry is lost by -translation into modern English, is but too clear when that beauty is once -perceived; but I thought some modernization of the old lines would help -the child to catch the sense of the original more readily: for my own -rendering, I can only make the apology that when I commenced my work I did -not know it would be impossible to procure suitable modernized versions by -eminent poets. Finding that unattainable, I merely endeavoured to render -the old version in modern English as closely as was compatible with sense, -and the simplicity needful for a child's mind; and I do not in any degree -pretend to have rendered it in poetry. - -The beauty of such passages as the death of Arcite is too delicate and -evanescent to bear rough handling. But I may here quote some of the lines -as an example of the importance of the final _e_ in emphasizing certain -words with an almost solemn music. - - And with | that word | his _spech_ | _e fail_ | _e_ gan; speech, fail - For fro | his feete | up to | his brest | was come - The cold | of deth | that hadde | him o | ver nome; overtaken - And yet | moreo | ver in | his _ar_ | _mes_ twoo now, arms - The vi | tal strength | is lost, | and al | agoo. gone - Only | the in | tellect, | withou | ten more, without - That dwel | led in | his _her_ | _te_ sik | and sore, heart, sick - Gan _fayl_ | _e_ when | the _her_ | _te felt_ | _e_ deth. began to fail, - felt death - - (_Knight's Tale._) - -There is hardly anything finer than Chaucer's version of the story of -these passionate young men, up to the touching close of Arcite's accident -and the beautiful patience of death. In life nothing would have reconciled -the almost animal fury of the rivals, but at the last such a resignation -comes to Arcite that he gives up Emelye to Palamon with a sublime effort -of self-sacrifice. Throughout the whole of the Knight's Tale sounds as of -rich organ music seem to peal from the page; throughout the Clerk's Tale -one seems to hear strains of infinite sadness echoing the strange outrages -imposed on patient Grizel. But without attention to the rhythm half the -grace and music is lost, and therefore it is all-important that the child -be properly taught to preserve it. - -I have adhered generally to Morris's text (1866), being both good and -popular,[3] only checking it by his Clarendon Press edition, and by -Tyrwhitt, Skeat, Bell, &c., when I conceive force is gained, and I have -added a running glossary of such words as are not immediately clear, on a -level with the line, to disperse any lingering difficulty. - -In the pictures I have been careful to preserve the right costumes, -colours, and surroundings, for which I have resorted to the MSS. of the -time, knowing that a child's mind, unaided by the eye, fails to realize -half of what comes through the ear. Children may be encouraged to verify -these costumes in the figures upon many tombs and stalls, &c., in old -churches, and in old pictures. - -In conclusion I must offer my sincere and hearty thanks to many friends -for their advice, assistance, and encouragement during my work; amongst -them, Mr. A. J. Ellis, Mr. F. J. Furnivall, and Mr. Calderon. - -Whatever may be the shortcomings of the book, I cannot but hope that many -little ones, while listening to Chaucer's Tales, will soon begin to be -interested in the picturesque life of the middle ages, and may thus be led -to study and appreciate 'The English Homer'[4] by the pages I have written -for my own little boy. - - -ACCENT OF CHAUCER. - -The mother should read to the child a fragment of Chaucer with the correct -pronunciation of his day, of which we give an example below, inadequate, -of course, but sufficient for the present purpose. The whole subject is -fully investigated in the three first parts of the treatise on 'Early -English Pronunciation, with special reference to Shakespere and Chaucer,' -by Alexander J. Ellis, F.R.S. - -The _a_ is, as in the above languages, pronounced as in _âne_, _appeler_, -&c. _E_ commonly, as in _écarté_, &c. The final _e_ was probably -indistinct, as in German now, _habe_, _werde_, &c.--not unlike the _a_ in -_China_: it was lost before a vowel. The final _e_ is still sounded by the -French in singing. In old French verse, one finds it as indispensable to -the rhythm as in Chaucer,--and as graceful,--hence probably the modern -retention of the letter as a syllable in vocal music. - - _Ou_ is sounded as the French _ou_. - - _I_ generally as on the Continent, _ee_: never as we sound it at - present. - - _Ch_ as in Scotch and German. - -I quote the opening lines of the Prologue as the nearest to hand. - - Whan that Aprille with his schowres swoote - The drought of Marche hath perced to the roote, - And bathud every veyne in swich licour, - Of which vertue engendred is the flour; - Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breethe - Enspirud hath in every holte and heethe - The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne - Hath in the Ram his halfe cours i-ronne, - And smale fowles maken melodie, - That slepen al the night with open yhe, - So priketh hem nature in here corages--&c. - - - Whan that Aprilla with his shoores sohta - The drookht of March hath pairsed to the rohta, - And bahthed ev'ry vin in sweech licoor, - Of which vairtú enjendrèd is the floor; - Whan Zephiroos aik with his swaita braitha - Enspeered hath in ev'ry holt and haitha - The tendra croppes, and the yoonga soonna - Hath in the Ram his halfa coors i-roonna, - And smahla fooles mahken melodee-a, - That slaipen al the nikht with ohpen ee-a, - So pricketh hem nahtúr in heer coràhges, &c. - -It will thus be seen that many of Chaucer's lines end with a -_dissyllable_, instead of a single syllable. _Sote_, _rote_, _brethe_, -_hethe_, &c. (having the final _e_), are words of two syllables; _corages_ -is a word of three, _àges_ rhyming with _pilgrimages_ in the next line. It -will also be apparent that some lines are lengthened with a syllable too -much for strict _metre_--a licence allowed by the best poets,--which, -avoiding as it does any possible approach to a doggrel sound, has a -lifting, billowy rhythm, and, in fact, takes the place of a 'turn' in -music. A few instances will suffice:-- - - 'And though that I no wepne have in this place.' - - 'Have here my troth, tomorwe I nyl not fayle, - Withouten wityng of eny other wight.' - - 'As any raven fether it schon for-blak.' - - 'A man mot ben a fool other yong or olde.' - -I think that any one reading these lines twice over as I have roughly -indicated, will find the accent one not difficult to practise; and the -perfect rhythm and ring of the lines facilitates matters, as the ear can -frequently guide the pronunciation. The lines can scarcely be read too -slowly or majestically. - -I must not here be understood to imply that difficulties in reading and -accentuating Chaucer are chimerical, but only that it is possible to -understand and enjoy him without as much difficulty as is commonly -supposed. In perusing the whole of Chaucer, there must needs be -exceptional readings and accentuation, which in detail only a student of -the subject would comprehend or care for. - -The rough rule suggested in the preface is a good one, as far as the -rhythm goes: as regards the sound, I have given a rough example. - -I will quote a fragment again from the Prologue as a second instance:-- - - Ther was also a nonne, a prioresse, - That of hire smylyng was ful symple and coy; - Hire gretteste ooth nas but by Seynte Loy; - And sche was cleped Madame Eglentyne. - Ful wel sche sang the servise devyne, - Entuned in hire nose ful semyly; - And Frensch sche spak ful faire and fetysly, - Aftur the scole of Stratford atte Bowe, - For Frensch of Parys was to hire unknowe. - - - Ther was ahlsoa a noon, a preeoressa, - That of her smeeling was fool sim-pland cooy; - Heer graitest ohth nas boot bee Si-ent Looy, - And shay was cleppèd Màdam Eglanteena. - Fool well shay sang the _service divinä_, - Entúned in heer nohsa fool saimaly; - And French shai spahk fool fer and faitisly, - Ahfter the scohl of Strahtford ahtta Bow-a, - For French of Pahrees was toh her oon-know-a. - -Observe _simpland_ for _simple and_: simple being pronounced like a word -of one syllable. With the common English pronunciation the lines would not -scan. 'Vernicle,' 'Christofre,' 'wimple,' 'chilindre,' 'companable,' &c., -are further instances of this mute _e_, and may be read as French words. - - - - -CHAUCER THE TALE-TELLER. - - -I. - -Do you like hearing stories? I am going to tell you of some one who lived -a very long time ago, and who was a very wise and good man, and who told -more wonderful stories than I shall be able to tell _you_ in this little -book. But you shall hear some of them, if you will try and understand -them, though they are written in a sort of English different from what you -are accustomed to speak. - -But, in order that you really may understand the stories, I must first -tell you something about the man who made them; and also why his language -was not the same as yours, although it was English. His name was -Chaucer--Geoffrey Chaucer. You must remember his name, for he was so great -a man that he has been called the 'Father of English Poetry'--that is, the -beginner or inventor of all the poetry that belongs to our England; and -when you are grown up, you will often hear of Chaucer and his works. - - -II. - -Chaucer lived in England 500 years ago--a longer time than such a little -boy as you can even think of. It is now the year 1876, you know. Well, -Chaucer was born about 1340, in the reign of King Edward III. We should -quite have forgotten all Chaucer's stories in such a great space of time -if he had not written them down in a book. But, happily, he did write them -down; and so we can read them just as if he had only told them yesterday. - -If you could suddenly spring back into the time when Chaucer lived, what a -funny world you would find! Everybody was dressed differently then from -what people are now, and lived in quite a different way; and you might -think they were very uncomfortable, but they were very happy, because they -were accustomed to it all. - -People had no carpets in those days in their rooms. Very few people were -rich enough to have glass windows. There was no paper on the walls, and -very seldom any pictures; and as for spring sofas and arm-chairs, they -were unknown. The seats were only benches placed against the wall: -sometimes a chair was brought on grand occasions to do honour to a -visitor; but it was a rare luxury. - -The rooms of most people in those days had blank walls of stone or brick -and plaster, painted white or coloured, and here and there--behind the -place of honour, perhaps--hung a sort of curtain, like a large picture, -made of needlework, called tapestry. You may have seen tapestry hanging in -rooms, with men and women and animals worked upon it. That was almost the -only covering for walls in Chaucer's time. Now we have a great many other -ornaments on them, besides tapestry. - -The rooms Chaucer lived in were probably like every one's else. They had -bare walls, with a piece of tapestry hung here and there on them--a bare -floor, strewn with rushes, which must have looked more like a stable than -a sitting-room. But the rushes were better than nothing. They kept the -feet warm, as our carpets do, though they were very untidy, and not always -very clean. - -[Illustration] - -When Chaucer wanted his dinner or breakfast, he did not go to a big table -like that you are used to: the table came to him. A couple of trestles or -stands were brought to him, and a board laid across them, and over the -board a cloth, and on the cloth were placed all the curious dishes they -ate then. There was no such thing as coffee or tea. People had meat, and -beer, and wine for breakfast, and dinner, and supper, all alike. They -helped themselves from the common dish, and ate with their fingers, as -dinner-knives and forks were not invented, and it was thought a sign of -special good breeding to have clean hands and nails. Plates there were -none. But large flat cakes of bread were used instead; and when the meat -was eaten off them, they were given to the poor--for, being full of the -gravy that had soaked into them, they were too valuable to throw away. -When they had finished eating, the servants came and lifted up the board, -and carried it off. - - -III. - -And now for Chaucer himself! How funny you would think he looked, if you -could see him sitting in his house! He wore a hood, of a dark colour, with -a long tail to it, which in-doors hung down his back, and out of doors was -twisted round his head to keep the hood on firm. This tail was called a -liripipe. - -[Illustration] - -He did not wear a coat and trousers like your father's, but a sort of -gown, called a tunic, or dalmatic, which in one picture of him is grey and -loose, with large sleeves, and bright red stockings and black boots; but -on great occasions he wore a close-fitting tunic, with a splendid belt and -buckle, a dagger, and jewelled garters, and, perhaps, a gold circlet round -his hair. How much prettier to wear such bright colours instead of black! -men and women dressed in green, and red, and yellow then; and when they -walked in the streets, they looked as people look in pictures. - -[Illustration: DINNER IN THE OLDEN TIME.] - -[Illustration: GEOFFREY CHAUCER.] - -You may see how good and clever Chaucer was by his face; such a wise, -thoughtful, pleasant face! He looks very kind, I think, as if he would -never say anything harsh or bitter; but sometimes he made fun of people in -a merry way. Words of his own, late in life, show that he was rather fat, -his face small and fair. In manner he seemed 'elvish,' or shy, with a -habit of staring on the ground, 'as if he would find a hair.' - -All day he worked hard, and his spare time was given to 'studying and -reading alway,' till his head ached and his look became dazed. (_House of -Fame._) - -Chaucer lived, like you, in London. Whether he was born there is not -known;[5] but as his father, John Chaucer, was a vintner in Thames Street, -London, it is probable that he was. Not much is known about his parents or -family, except that his grandfather, Richard Chaucer, was also a vintner; -and his mother had an uncle who was a moneyer; so that he came of -respectable and well-to-do people, though not noble.[6] Whether he was -educated at Oxford or Cambridge, whether he studied for the bar or for the -Church, there is no record to show; but there is no doubt that his -education was a good one, and that he worked very hard at his books and -tasks, otherwise he could not have grown to be the learned and cultivated -man he was. We know that he possessed considerable knowledge of the -classics, divinity, philosophy, astronomy, as much as was then known of -chemistry, and, indeed, most of the sciences. French and Latin he knew as -a matter of course, for the better classes used these tongues more than -English--Latin for writing, and French for writing and speaking; for, by -his translations from the French, he earned, early in life, a 'balade' of -compliment from Eustache Deschamps, with the refrain, '_Grant translateur, -noble Geoffroi Chaucier_.' It is probable, too, that he knew Italian, for, -in his later life, we can see how he has been inspired by the great -Italian writers, Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio. - -It has recently been discovered that for a time (certainly in 1357) -Geoffrey Chaucer, being then seventeen, was a page[7] in the household of -Elizabeth, Countess of Ulster, wife of Lionel, second son of King Edward -III.; a position which he could not have held if he had not been a -well-born, or at least well-educated, person. A page in those days was -very different from what we call a page now--therefore we infer that the -Chaucer family had interest at Court; for without that, Geoffrey could -never have entered the royal service. - -Most gentlemen's sons were educated by becoming pages. They entered the -service of noble ladies, who paid them, or sometimes were even paid for -receiving them. Thus young men learned courtesy of manners, and all the -accomplishments of indoor and outdoor life--riding, the use of arms, -&c.--and were very much what an _aide-de-camp_ in the army now is. -Chaucer, you see, held a post which many a nobly-born lad must have -coveted. - -There is a doubtful tradition that Chaucer was intended for a lawyer, and -was a member of the Middle Temple (a large building in London, where a -great many lawyers live still), and here, as they say, he was once fined -two shillings for beating a Franciscan friar in Fleet Street. - -If this be true, it must have been rather a severe beating; for two -shillings was a far larger sum than it is now--equal to about sixteen -shillings of our money. Chaucer was sometimes angry with the friars at -later times in life, and deals them some hard hits in his writings with a -relish possibly founded on personal experience of some disagreeable friar. - -At any rate, Chaucer never got fond of the friars, and thought they were -often bad and mischievous men, who did not always _act_ up to what they -_said_. This is called _hypocrisy_, and is so evil a thing that Chaucer -was quite right to be angry with people who were hypocrites. - - -IV. - -Fleet Street still exists, though it was much less crowded with people in -Chaucer's day than now. Indeed, the whole of London was very different -from our London; and, oh, so much prettier! The streets within the London -wall were probably thickly populated, and not over-healthy; but outside -the wall, streets such as Fleet Street were more like the streets of some -of our suburbs, or rather some foreign towns--the houses irregular, with -curious pointed roofs, here and there divided by little gardens, and even -green fields. I dare say, when Chaucer walked in the streets, the birds -sang over his head, and the hawthorn and primrose bloomed where now the -black smoke and dust would soon kill most green things. Thames Street was -where Chaucer long lived in London, but, at one time in his life at least, -it is certain that he occupied a tenement at Aldgate, which formed part of -an old prison; and it is probable that at another he lived in the -beautiful Savoy Palace with John of Gaunt, whilst his wife was maid of -honour. In 1393, Chaucer was living at Greenwich, near which he had work -in 1390--poor and asking his friend Scogan to intercede for him "where it -would fructify;" and at the end of his life he had a house in Westminster, -said to be nearly on the same spot on which Henry VII.'s Chapel now -stands, and close to the Abbey where he is buried. - -In those days it was the fashion, when the month of May[8] arrived, for -everybody, rich and poor, to get up very early in the morning, to gather -boughs of hawthorn and laurel, to deck all the doorways in the street, as -a joyful welcoming of the sweet spring time. Chaucer alludes more than -once to this beautiful custom. The streets must have been full of -fragrance then. He also tells us how he loved to rise up at dawn in the -morning, and go into the fresh green fields, to see the daisies open. You -have often seen the daisies shut up at night, but I don't suppose you ever -saw them opening in the morning; and I am afraid, however early you got up -in London, you could not reach the fields quick enough to see that. But -you may guess from this how much nearer the country was to the town 500 -years ago. There were so many fewer houses built then, that within a walk -you could get right into the meadows. You may see that by comparing the -two maps I have made for you. - -London was also much quieter. There were no railways--such things had -never been heard of. There were not even any cabs or carriages. Sometimes -a market cart might roll by, but not very often, and then everybody would -run out to see what the unaccustomed clatter was all about. People had to -walk everywhere, unless they were rich enough to ride on horseback, or -lived near the river. In that case, they used to go in barges or boats on -the Thames, as far as they could; for, strange as it may seem, even the -King had no coach then. - -[Illustration: LONDON IN THE 15TH CENTURY.] - -[Illustration: LONDON IN THE 19TH CENTURY.] - -I am afraid Geoffrey Chaucer would not recognize that 'dere and swete -citye of London' in the great, smoky, noisy, bustling metropolis we are -accustomed to, and I am quite sure he would not recognize the language; -and presently I will explain what I meant by saving that though Chaucer -spoke and wrote English, it was quite different from what we speak now. -You will see, as you go on, how queerly all the words are spelt, so much -so that I have had to put a second version side by side with Chaucer's -lines, which you will understand more readily; and when I read them to -you, you will see how different is the sound. These words were all -pronounced slowly, almost with a drawl, while we nowadays have got to talk -so fast, that no one who lived then would follow what we say without great -difficulty. - - -V. - -Chaucer's connection with the Court makes it probable that he lived during -the greater part of his life in London; and it is pleasant to think that -this great poet was valued and beloved in his day by the highest powers in -the land. He held, at various times, posts in the King's household, which -brought him more or less money, such as valet of the King's chamber, the -King's esquire, &c.; and he found a fast friend in John of Gaunt, one of -the sons of King Edward III. - -In 1359 Chaucer became a soldier, and served in the army under this King, -in an attack upon France, and was taken prisoner. It is supposed he was -detained there about a year; and, being ransomed by Edward, when he came -back to England, he married a lady named Philippa. She was probably the -younger daughter of Sir Paon de Roet, of Hainault,[9] who came over to -England in the retinue of Queen Philippa, who was also of Hainault. These -two Philippas, coming from the same place, remained friends during all the -Queen's life; for when Chaucer married Philippa de Roet, she was one of -the Queen's maids of honour; and, after her marriage, the Queen gave her -an annual pension of ten marks[10] (£50), which was continued to her by -the King after Queen Philippa died. Some people say Chaucer's wife was -also the Queen's god-daughter.[11] - -[Illustration] - -If you would like to know what Chaucer's wife looked like, I will tell -you. I do not know what she was like in the face, but I can tell you the -fashion of the garb she wore. I like to believe she had long yellow hair, -which Chaucer describes so often and so prettily. Chaucer's wife wore one -of those funny head-dresses like crowns, or rather like boxes, over a gold -net, with her hair braided in a tress, hanging down her back. She had a -close green[12] dress, with tight sleeves, reaching right down over the -hand, to protect it from the sun and wind; and a very long skirt, falling -in folds about her feet, sometimes edged with beautiful white fur, ermine, -or a rich grey fur, called vair. The colour of this grey fur was much -liked, and when people had light grey eyes, of somewhat the same colour, -it was thought very beautiful. Many songs describe pretty ladies with -'eyes of vair.' - -[Illustration] - -When noble persons went to Court, they wore dresses far more splendid than -any to be seen now--dresses of all colours, worked in with flowers and -branches of gold, sometimes with heraldic devices and strange figures, and -perfectly smothered in jewels. No one has pearls, and emeralds, and -diamonds sewn on their gowns now; but in the fourteenth century, rich -people had the seams of their clothes often covered with gems. The ladies -wore close-fitting dresses, with splendid belts, or _seints_, round their -hips, all jewelled; and strings of glittering jewels hung round their -necks, and down from the belt, and on the head-dress. People did not wear -short sleeves then, but long ones, made sometimes very curiously with -streamers hanging from the elbow; a long thin gauze veil, shining with -silver and gold; and narrow pointed shoes, much longer than their feet, -which, they thought, made the foot look slender. If ladies had not had -such long shoes, they would never have showed beneath their long -embroidered skirts, and they would always have been stumbling when they -walked. It was a very graceful and elegant costume that Chaucer's wife -wore; but the laws of England probably forbade her to wear silk, which was -reserved for nobles. When she walked out of doors, she had tall clogs to -save her pretty shoes from the mud of the rough streets; and when she rode -on horseback with the Queen, or her husband Chaucer, she sat on a pillion, -and placed her feet on a narrow board called a _planchette_. Many women -rode astride, like the "Wife of Bath" whom Chaucer speaks of. - -Now, perhaps, you would like to know whether Chaucer had any little -children. We do not know much about Chaucer's children. We know he had a -little son called Lewis, because Chaucer wrote a treatise for him when he -was ten years old, to teach him how to use an instrument he had given him, -called an _astrolabe_.[13] Chaucer must have been very fond of Lewis, -since he took so much trouble for him, and he speaks to him very kindly -and lovingly. - -As Chaucer was married before 1366, it is likely that he had other -children; and some people say he had an elder son, named Thomas, and a -daughter Elizabeth.[14] - -John of Gaunt, who was Chaucer's patron as I told you, was very kind to -Thomas Chaucer, and gave him several posts in the King's household, as he -grew up to be a man. And John of Gaunt heard that Elizabeth Chaucer wished -to be a nun; and, in 1381, we find that he paid a large sum of money for -her _noviciate_ (that is, for her to learn to be a nun) in the Abbey of -Barking. - -[Illustration: A LADY CROSSING THE STREET IN THE OLDEN TIME.] - -A nun is a person who does not care for the amusements and pleasures which -other people care for--playing, and dancing, and seeing sights and many -people; but who prefers to go and live in a house called a nunnery, where -she will see hardly any one, and think of nothing but being good, and -helping the poor. And, if people think they can be good best in that way, -they ought to become nuns. But I think people can be just as good living -at home with their friends, without shutting themselves in a nunnery. - -Now I must leave off telling you about Chaucer's wife and children, and go -on to Chaucer himself. - - -VI. - -Chaucer was, as I told you, the friend of one of the sons of the King, -Edward III. Not the eldest son, who was, as you know, Edward the Black -Prince, the great warrior, nor Lionel, the third son, whom he had served -when a boy, but the fourth son, John of Gaunt, who had a great deal of -power with the King. - -[Illustration: John of Gaunt.] - -John of Gaunt was the same age as Chaucer. - -When John of Gaunt was only 19 (the year that Chaucer went with the army -to France), he married a lady called Blanche of Lancaster, and there were -famous joustings and great festivities of every kind. In this year, it has -been supposed, Chaucer wrote a poem, 'The Parliament of Birds,' to -celebrate the wedding. Another long poem, called 'The Court of Love,' is -said to have been written by him about this time--at any rate, in very -early life. - -When Chaucer came back to England, and got married himself, he was still -more constantly at Court, and there are many instances recorded of John's -attachment to both Chaucer and Philippa all his life. Among others we may -notice his gifts to Philippa of certain 'silver-gilt cups with covers,' on -the 1st of January in 1380, 1381, and 1382. - -It is touching to see how faithful these two friends were to each other, -and how long their friendship lasted. The first we hear of it was about -1359, the year when John married Blanche, and for forty years it remained -unbroken. Nay, it grew closer and closer, for in 1394, when John of Gaunt -and Chaucer were both middle-aged men, John married Philippa's sister (Sir -Paon Roet's elder daughter), so that Chaucer became John of Gaunt's -brother.[15] - -When John of Gaunt was in power he never forgot Chaucer. When he became -unpopular it was Chaucer's turn to be faithful to him; and faithful he -was, whatever he suffered, and he did suffer for it severely, and became -quite poor at times, as you will see. Directly John came into power again -up went Chaucer too, and his circumstances improved. There are few -friendships so long and so faithful on both sides as this was.[16] - - -VII. - -Chaucer was employed by Edward III. for many years as envoy, which is a -very important office. It can only be given to a very wise and shrewd man. -This proves the great ability of Chaucer in other things besides making -songs and telling stories. He had to go abroad, to France, Italy, and -elsewhere, on the King's private missions; and the King gave him money for -his services, and promoted him to great honour. - -On one occasion (1373) when he was sent to Florence, on an embassy, he is -supposed to have seen Petrarch, a great Italian poet and patriot, whose -name you must not forget. Petrarch was then living at Arqua, two miles -from Padua, a beautiful town in Italy; and though Petrarch was a much -older man than Chaucer--more than twenty years older--it seems only -natural that these two great men should have tried to see each other; for -they had much in common. Both were far-famed poets, and both, in a -measure, representatives of the politics, poetry, and culture of their -respective countries. - -Still, some people think they could never have met, because the journey -from Florence to Padua was a most difficult one. Travelling was hard work, -and sometimes dangerous, guides being always necessary: you could not get -a carriage at any price, for carriages were not invented. In some places -there was no means of going direct from city to city at all--not even on -horseback--there being actually no roads. So that people had to go on foot -or not at all. If they went, there were rocks and rivers to cross, which -often delayed travellers a long time. - -[Illustration] - -Chaucer, as the King's envoy, must have had attendants, even for safety's -sake, with him, and much luggage, and that would of course make travelling -more difficult and expensive. He most likely went a great part of the way -by sea, in a vessel coasting along the Mediterranean to Genoa and Leghorn, -and so by Pisa to Florence: you may trace his route in a map. Doubtless, -he had neither the means nor the will to go all the way to Padua on his -own account. So you see people hold different opinions about this journey, -and no one can be quite sure whether Chaucer did see Petrarch or not. - -In 1373 Chaucer wrote his 'Life of St. Cecile;' and about that time, -perhaps earlier, the 'Complaint to Pity.' - - -VIII. - -I am not going to tell you everything that the King and John of Gaunt did -for Chaucer. You would get tired of hearing about it. I will only say that -Chaucer was 'holden in greate credyt,' and probably had a real influence -in England; for, connected as he was with John of Gaunt, I dare say he -gave him advice and counsel, and John showed the King how shrewd and -trustworthy Chaucer was, and persuaded him to give him benefits and money. - -John's wife, Blanche of Lancaster, died in 1369, and so did his mother, -Queen Philippa. Chaucer wrote a poem called 'The Death of Blanche the -Duchess,' in honour of this dead Blanche. John married another wife in the -next year, and got still more powerful, and was called King of Castile, in -Spain, because his new wife was the daughter of a King of Castile. But all -this made no difference in his affection for Chaucer. He always did what -he could for Chaucer. - -I will give you some instances of this. - -Soon after Chaucer's return from his journey to Florence, he received a -grant of 'a pitcher of wine' every day 'from the hands of the King's -butler.' This seems like a mark of personal friendship more than formal -royal bounty; but it was worth a good deal of money a year. Less than two -months afterwards he received, through John of Gaunt's goodwill, a place -under Government called 'Comptrollership of the Customs' of the Port of -London. This was a very important post, and required much care, -shrewdness, and vigilance; and the King made it a condition that all the -accounts of his office were to be entered in Chaucer's own -handwriting--which means, of course, that Chaucer was to be always -present, seeing everything done himself, and never leaving the work to be -done by anybody else, except when sent abroad by the King's own royal -command. Only three days after this, John of Gaunt himself made Chaucer a -grant of £10 a year for life, in reward for all the good service rendered -by 'nostre bien ame Geffray Chaucer,' and 'nostre bien ame Philippa sa -femme,' to himself, his duchess, and to his mother, Queen Philippa, who -was dead. This sum of money does not sound much; but it was a great deal -in those days, and was fully equal to £100 now. - -The very next year the King gave Chaucer the 'custody' of a rich ward (a -ward is a person protected or maintained by another while under age), -named Edmond Staplegate, of Kent; and when this ward married, Chaucer -received a large sum of money (£104 = £1,040).[17] - -Then Chaucer's care in the Customs' office detected a dishonest man, who -tried to ship wool abroad without paying the lawful duty; this man was -fined for his dishonesty, and the money, £71 4_s._ 6_d._, was made a -present to Chaucer--a sum equal to £700. - -So you see it seemed as if John of Gaunt could never do enough for him; -because all these things, if not done by John himself, were probably due -to his influence with the King. - - -IX. - -The Black Prince died about that time, and Edward III. did not long -survive him. He died in 1377. Then the Black Prince's little son, Richard, -who was only eleven years old, became King of England; but as he was too -young to reign over the country, his three uncles governed for him. These -three uncles were John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster; the Duke of York; and -the Duke of Gloucester. - -And all this time Chaucer was very well looked after, you may be sure, for -John of Gaunt was then more powerful than the King. Chaucer was still -Comptroller of the Customs; and, before long, John gave him a second post -of a similar kind, called 'Comptroller of the Petty Customs.' - -But all this good luck was not to go on for ever. The people were not so -fond of John of Gaunt as Chaucer was, because, in governing them, he was -very ambitious and severe. They got angry with everything he did, and with -everybody who remained his friend. So, of course, they did not like -Chaucer. - -This was a very troublous time. The Crown (represented by the King's -uncles) wanted one thing, and the great barons wanted another, and the -people or lower classes wanted another! These were called the three great -opposing parties, and each wanted to have all the power. At last some of -the barons sided with the King's party, and others sided with the people; -so there were then _two_ opposing parties quarrelling and hating each -other. John of Gaunt would have liked to be King himself; but the people -were unhappy, and very discontented with his government, and he began to -have much less power in the kingdom. - -The people knew that John of Gaunt was obliged to go with an army into -Portugal, and they began to make plans to get their own way when his back -was turned. When he was gone, they said that John of Gaunt did not govern -them well, and had given government posts to men who did not do their -duty, and neglected their work, and Chaucer was one of them. - -Then there was what was called a 'Commission of Inquiry' appointed, which -means a body of men who were free to examine and reform everything they -chose in the country. Their power was to last a whole year; and these men -looked into all that Chaucer had done in the 'Customs' offices. They did -not find anything wrong, as far as we know, but still they sent away -Chaucer in disgrace, just as if they had. And this made him very poor. It -was a harsh thing to do, and unjust, if they were not certain he had been -neglecting his work; and John of Gaunt was out of the country, and could -not help him now. This was in the year 1386. - -A great deal has been said and written about this matter. Some people -still believe that Chaucer really did neglect his duties, though the -conditions that he should attend to everything himself had been so very -strict;[18] that he had probably absented himself, and let things go -wrong. But such people forget that these conditions were formally done -away with in 1385, when Chaucer was finally released from personal -drudgery at the Customs, and allowed to have a _deputy_, or person under -him to do his work. - -They forget, too, how Chaucer had plunged into political matters directly -afterwards, at a time when party feeling was intensely strong, the people -and John of Gaunt being violently opposed to each other; and how Chaucer -took up the part of his friend warmly, and sat in the House of Commons as -representative of Kent, one of the largest counties of England, on purpose -to support the ministers who were on John of Gaunt's side. This alone -would be enough to make the opposing party hate Chaucer, and this -doubtless was the reason of their dismissing him from both his offices in -the Customs as soon as ever they were able, to punish him for his -attachment to the Duke of Lancaster's (John of Gaunt's) cause. - -[Illustration: Stylus.] - -But Chaucer never wavered or changed. And his faithfulness to his friend -deserves better than the unjust suspicion that his disgrace was warranted -by neglect of his duties. Chaucer was too good, and too pious, and too -honourable a man to commit any such act. He submitted to his disgrace and -his poverty unmoved; and after the death of his wife Philippa, which -happened in the following summer, nothing is known of him for several -years, except that he was in such distress that he was actually obliged to -part with his two pensions for a sum of money in order to pay his debts. - -During all the eventful years that followed Edward III.'s death, up to -this time, Chaucer had been writing busily, in the midst of his weightier -affairs. The 'Complaint of Mars,' 'Boece,' 'Troilus and Cressida,' the -'House of Fame,' and the 'Legend of Good Women,' all of which I hope you -will read some day, were written in this period; also some reproachful -words to his scrivener, who seems to have written out his poems for him -very carelessly. Some persons think that Chaucer's pathetic 'Good -Counsel,' and his short 'Balade sent to King Richard,' reflect the -disappointment and sadness at his changed lot, which he must have felt; -and that, therefore, these poems were written at about the same time. - - -X. - -In 1389 there was another great change in the government. The King, being -of age, wished to govern the country without help, and he sent away one of -his uncles, who was on the people's side, and asked John of Gaunt to come -back to England. John of Gaunt's son was made one of the new ministers. -Immediately Chaucer was thought of. He was at once appointed Clerk of the -King's Works--an office of some importance--which he was permitted to hold -by deputy; and his salary was two shillings per day--that is £36 10_s._ -0_d._ a-year, equal to about £370 of our money. - -It seems that Chaucer kept this appointment only for two years. Why, we -cannot tell.[19] While he held this office (viz., Sept. 1390)a misfortune -befell him. Some notorious thieves attacked him, near the 'foule Ok' (foul -Oak), and robbed him of £20 (nearly £200 present currency) of the King's -money, his horse, and other movables. This was a mishap likely enough to -overtake any traveller in those days of bad roads and lonely marshes, for -there was no great protection by police or soldiery in ordinary cases. The -King's writ, in which he forgives Chaucer this sum of £20, is still -extant. - -What he did, or how he lived, for some time after his retirement from the -King's Works in 1391, is not known; but in 1394, King Richard granted him -a pension of £20 (= £200 present currency) per annum for life. This was -the year when John of Gaunt married Chaucer's sister-in-law; but, in spite -of this rich alliance, I fear Chaucer was still in great distress, for we -hear of many small loans which he obtained on this new pension during the -next four years, which betray too clearly his difficulties. In 1398, the -King granted him letters to protect him against arrest--that is, he wrote -letters forbidding the people to whom Chaucer owed money to put him in -prison, which they would otherwise have done. - -It is sad that during these latter years of his life, the great poet who -had done so much, and lived so comfortably, should have grown so poor and -harassed. He ought to have been beyond the reach of want. He had had large -sums of money; his wife's sister was Duchess of Lancaster; his son[20] was -holding grants and offices under John of Gaunt. Perhaps he wasted his -money.[21] But we cannot know exactly how it all came about at this -distance of time. And one thing shows clearly how much courage and -patience Chaucer had; for it was when he was in such want in 1388, two -years after he had been turned out of the Customs, that he was busiest -with the greatest work of his life, called the CANTERBURY TALES. Some men -would have been too sad after so much disgrace and trouble, to be able to -write stories and verses; but I think Chaucer must have felt at peace in -his mind--he must have known that he did not deserve all the ill-treatment -he got--and had faith that God would bring him through unstained. - - -XI. - -The CANTERBURY TALES are full of cheerfulness and fun; full of love for -the beautiful world, and full of sympathy for all who are in trouble or -misery. The beauty of Chaucer's character, and his deep piety, come out -very clearly in these tales, as I think you will see. No one could have -sung the 'ditties and songs glad' about birds in the medlar trees, and the -soft rain on the 'small sweet grass,' and the 'lily on her stalk green,' -and the sweet winds that blow over the country, whose mind was clouded by -sordid thoughts, and narrow, selfish aims. No one could have sung so -blithely of 'fresh Emily,' and with such good-humoured lenity even of the -vulgar, chattering 'Wife of Bath,' whose heart was full of angry feelings -towards his fellow-creatures. And no one, who was not in his heart a -religious man, could have breathed the words of patience with which Arcite -tries to comfort his friend, in their gloomy prison--or the greater -patience of poor persecuted Griselda--or the fervent love of truth and -honourable dealing, and a good life, which fills so many of his poems--or -a hundred other touching prayers and tender words of warning. There was a -large-heartedness and liberality about Chaucer's mind, as of one who had -mixed cheerfully with all classes, and saw good in all. His tastes were -with the noble ranks among whom he had lived; but he had deep sympathy -with the poor and oppressed, and could feel kindly even to the coarse and -the wicked. He hated none but hypocrites; and he was never tired of -praising piety and virtue. - -Chaucer wrote a great many short poems, which I have not told you of. Many -have been lost or forgotten. Some may come back to us in the course of -time and search. All we know of, you will read some day, with the rest of -the CANTERBURY TALES not in this book: a few of these poems I have placed -at the end of the volume; and among them one 'To his empty Purse,' written -only the year before his death.[22] - -There is only a little more I can tell you about Chaucer's life before we -begin the stories. We got as far as 1398, when the King gave Chaucer -letters of protection from his creditors. - -About this time another grant of wine was bestowed on him, equal to about -£4 a year, or £40 of our money. In the next year, King Richard, who had -not gained the love of his subjects, nor tried to be a good King, was -deposed--that is, the people were so angry with him that they said, "You -shall not be our King any more;" and they shut him up in a tower, and made -his cousin, Henry, King of England. Now this Henry was the son of John of -Gaunt, by his first wife, Blanche, and had been very badly treated by his -cousin, the King. He was a much better man than Richard, and the people -loved him. John of Gaunt did not live to see his son King, for he died -while Henry was abroad; and it must have been a real grief to Chaucer, -then an old man of sixty,[23] when this long and faithful friend was taken -from him. - -Still it is pleasant to find that Henry of Lancaster shared his father's -friendship for Chaucer. I dare say he had been rocked on Chaucer's knee -when a little child, and had played with Chaucer's children. He came back -from France, after John of Gaunt's death, and the people made him King, -and sent King Richard to the castle of Pomfret (where I am sorry to say he -was afterwards murdered). - -The new King had not been on the throne four days before he helped -Chaucer. John of Gaunt himself could not have done it quicker. He granted -him an annuity of £26 13_s._ 4_d._ a year, in addition to the other £20 -granted by Richard. - -The royal bounty was only just in time, for poor old Chaucer did not long -survive his old friend, the Duke of Lancaster. He died about a year after -him, when Henry had been King thirteen months. - -John of Gaunt was buried in St. Paul's, by the side of his first and -best-loved wife, Blanche; Geoffrey Chaucer was buried in Westminster -Abbey. - -So ended the first, and almost the greatest, English writer, of whom no -one has spoken an ill word, and who himself spoke no ill words. - -Poet, soldier, statesman, and scholar, 'truly his better ne his pere, in -school of my rules could I never find.... In goodness of gentle, manly -speech he passeth all other makers.'[24] - - -XII. - -And now for Chaucer's 'speech.' How shall I show you its 'goodness,' since -it is so difficult to read this old English? Wait a bit. You will soon -understand it all, if you take pains at the first beginning. Do not be -afraid of the funny spelling, for you must remember that it is not so much -that Chaucer spells differently from us, as that we have begun to spell -differently from Chaucer. He would think our English quite as funny, and -not half so pretty as his own; for the old English, when spoken, sounded -very pretty and stately, and not so much like a 'gabble' as ours. - -I told you a little while ago, you know, that our talking is much faster -than talking was in Chaucer's time; it seems very curious that a language -can be so changed in a few hundred years, without people really meaning to -change it. But it has changed gradually. Little by little new words have -come into use, and others have got 'old-fashioned.' Even the English of -_one_ hundred years ago was very unlike our own. But the English of _five_ -hundred years ago was, of course, still more unlike. - - -XIII. - -Now, I have put, as I told you, two versions of Chaucer's poetry on the -page, side by side. First, the lines as Chaucer made them, and then the -same lines in English such as we speak. You can thus look at both, and -compare them. - -I will also read you the verses in the two ways of pronouncing them, -Chaucer's way and our way: but when you have grown a little used to the -old-fashioned English, you will soon see how much prettier and more -musical it sounds than our modern tongue, and I think you will like it -very much. Besides, it is nice to be able to see the words as Chaucer put -them, so as to know exactly how he talked. - -In Chaucer's time a great deal of French was spoken in England, and it was -mixed up with English more than it is now. The sound of old French and old -English were something the same, both spoken very slowly, with a kind of -drawl, as much as to say--"I am in no hurry. I have all day before me, and -if you want to hear what I have got to say, you must wait till I get my -words out." - -So if you wish to hear Chaucer's stories, you must let him tell them in -his own way, and try and understand his funny, pretty language. And if you -do not pronounce the words as he meant, you will find the verses will -sound quite ugly--some lines being longer than others, and some not even -rhyming, and altogether in a jumble. - - -XIV. - -Chaucer himself was very anxious that people should read his words -properly, and says in his verses, as if he were speaking to a human -being-- - - And for there is so grete dyversité great diversity - In Englissh,[25] and in writynge of our tonge, tongue - So preye I God that non miswrité thee pray - Ne thee mys-metere for defaute of tonge. (_Troilus._) defect - -To _mis-metre_ is to read the _metre_ wrong; and the metre is the length -of the line. If you read the length all wrong, it sounds very ugly. - -Now, suppose those lines were read in modern English, they would run -thus:-- - - And because there is so great a diversity - In English, and in writing our tongue, - So I pray God that none miswrite thee - Nor mismetre thee through defect of tongue. - -How broken and ragged it all sounds! like a gown that is all ragged and -jagged, and doesn't fit. It sounds much better to read it properly. - -You will find that when Chaucer's words are rightly pronounced, all his -lines are of an even length and sound pretty. I don't think he ever fails -in this. This is called having a musical ear. Chaucer had a musical ear. -Some people who write poetry have not, and their poetry is good for -nothing. They might as well try to play the piano without a musical ear; -and a pretty mess they would make of that![26] - - -XV. - -When you find any very hard word in Chaucer's verses which you cannot -understand, look in the glossary and the modern version beside them; and -you will see what is the word for it nowadays. A few words which cannot be -translated within the metre you will find at the bottom of the page; but -think for yourself before you look. There is nothing like thinking for -one's self. Many of the words are like French or German words: so if you -have learnt these languages you will be able often to guess what the word -means. - -For instance, you know how, in French, when you wish to say, I _will not_ -go or I _am not_ sure, two no's are used, _ne_ and _pas_: Je _n_'irai -_pas_, or je _ne_ suis _pas_ sûr. Well, in Chaucer's time two no's were -used in English. He would have said, "I _n_'ill _nat_ go," and "I _n_'am -_nat_ sure." - -There are many lines where you will see two no's. "I n'am nat precious." -"I ne told no deintee." "I wol not leve no tales." "I ne owe hem not a -word." "There n'is no more to tell," &c. Sometimes, however, _ne_ is used -by itself, without _not_ or _nat_ to follow. As "it n'is good," "I n'ill -say--or sain," instead of "it is not good--I will not say." - -And, as in this last word sain (which only means _say_), you will find -often an _n_ at the end of words, which makes it difficult to understand -them; but you will soon cease to think that a very alarming difficulty if -you keep looking at the modern version. As, "I shall nat _lien_" (this -means _lie_). "I wol nat _gon_" (_go_): "_withouten_ doubt" (_without_). -"Ther wold I _don_ hem no pleasance" (_do_); "thou shalt _ben_ quit" -(_be_). "I shall you _tellen_" (_tell_). - -And I think you will also be able to see how much better some old words -are for expressing the meaning, than our words. For instance, how much -nicer 'flittermouse' is than 'bat.' That is an old North-country word, and -very German (Fledermaus). When you see a little bat flying about, you know -it is a bat because you have been told: but 'flitter-mouse' is better than -bat, because it means 'floating mouse.' Now, a bat _is_ like a mouse -floating in the air. The word expresses the movement and the form of the -creature. - -Again--the old word 'herteles' (heartless), instead of without courage, -how well it expresses the want of courage or spirit: we often say people -have no heart for work, or no heart for singing, when they are sad, or -ill, or weak. Heartless does not always mean cowardly; it means that the -person is dejected, or tired, or out of spirits. We have left off using -the word heartless in that sense, however, and we have no word to express -it. When _we_ say heartless, we mean cruel or unkind, which is a perfectly -different meaning. - -Again, we have no word now for a meeting-time or appointment, as good as -the old word 'steven:' we use the French word '_rendezvous_' as a noun, -which is not very wise. 'Steven' is a nice, short, and really English word -which I should like to hear in use again. - -One more instance. The word 'fret' was used for devouring. This just -describes what we call 'nibbling' now. The moth fretting a garment--means -the moth devouring or nibbling a garment. - -This is a word we have lost sight of now in the sense of _eating_; we only -use it for 'complaining' or 'pining.' But a _fretted_ sky--and the _frets_ -on a guitar--are from the old Saxon verb _frete_, to eat or devour, and -describe a wrinkly uneven surface, like the part of a garment fretted by -the moth. So you must not be impatient with the old words, which are -sometimes much better for their purpose than the words we use nowadays. - - - - -CANTERBURY TALES. - - - - -CHAUCER'S PILGRIMS. - - -Some of Chaucer's best tales are not told by himself. They are put into -the mouths of other people. In those days there were no newspapers--indeed -there was not much news--so that when strangers who had little in common -were thrown together, as they often were in inns, or in long journeys, -they had few topics of conversation: and so they used to entertain each -other by singing songs, or quite as often by telling their own adventures, -or long stories such as Chaucer has written down and called the -'_Canterbury Tales_.' - -The reason he called them the '_Canterbury Tales_' was because they were -supposed to be told by a number of travellers who met at an inn, and went -together on a pilgrimage to a saint's shrine at Canterbury. - -But I shall now let Chaucer tell you about his interesting company in his -own way. - -He begins with a beautiful description of the spring--the time usually -chosen for long journeys, or for any new undertaking, in those days. - -When you go out into the gardens or the fields, and see the fresh green of -the hedges and the white May blossoms and the blue sky, think of Chaucer -and his Canterbury Pilgrims! - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -Chaucer's Prologue. - - - Whan that Aprille with his schowres swoote When, sweet - The drought of Marche hath perced to the roote, root - And bathud every veyne in swich licour, such liquor - Of which vertue engendred is the flour; flower - Whan Zephirus[27] eek with his swete breeth also, breath - Enspirud hath in every holte and heeth grove - The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne young - Hath in the Ram his halfe cours i-ronne, run - And smale fowles maken melodie, small birds make - That slepen al the night with open yhe, sleep, eye - So priketh hem nature in here corages:-- pricketh them, - their impulses - Thanne longen folk to gon on pilgrimages, long, go - And palmers[28] for to seeken straunge strondes, seek, shores - To ferne halwes, kouthe[29] in sondry londes; distant saints - And specially from every schires ende - Of Engelond, to Canturbury they wende, go - The holy blisful martir[30] for to seeke, blessed, seek - That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke. them, sick - - - When April hath his sweetest showers brought - To pierce the heart of March and banish drought, - Then every vein is bathéd by his power, - With fruitful juice engendering the flower; - When the light zephyr, with its scented breath, - Stirs to new life in every holt and heath - The tender crops, what time the youthful sun - Hath in the Ram his course but half-way run; - And when the little birds make melody, - That sleep the whole night long with open eye, - So Nature rouses instinct into song,-- - Then folk to go as pilgrims greatly long, - And palmers hasten forth to foreign strands - To worship far-off saints in sundry lands; - And specially from every shire's end - Of England, unto Canterbury they wend, - Before the blessed martyr there to kneel, - Who oft hath help'd them by his power to heal. - -It happened that one day in the spring, as I was resting at the Tabard[31] -Inn, in Southwark, ready to go on my devout pilgrimage to Canterbury, -there arrived towards night at the inn a large company of all sorts of -people--nine-and-twenty of them: they had met by chance, all being -pilgrims to Canterbury.[32] The chambers and the stables were roomy, and -so every one found a place. And shortly, after sunset, I had made friends -with them all, and soon became one of their party. We all agreed to rise -up early, to pursue our journey together.[33] - -But still, while I have time and space, I think I had better tell you who -these people were, their condition and rank, which was which, and what -they looked like. I will begin, then, with - - -The Knight. - -[Illustration] - - A KNIGHT[34] ther was and that a worthy man, there, valuable - That from the tyme that he ferst bigan - To ryden out, he lovede chyvalrye, ride - Trouthe and honour, fredom and curtesie. frankness - Ful worthi was he in his lordes werre, war - And therto hadde he riden, noman ferre, further - As wel in Cristendom as in hethenesse, - And evere honoured for his worthinesse. - - - A knight there was, and that a worthy man, - Who from the time in which he first began - To ride afield, loved well all chivalry, - Honour and frankness, truth and courtesy. - Most worthy was he in his master's war, - And thereto had he ridden, none more far, - As well in Christian as in heathen lands, - And borne with honour many high commands. - -He had been at Alexandria when it was won: in Prussia he had gained great -honours, and in many other lands. He had been in fifteen mortal battles, -and had fought in the lists for our faith three times, and always slain -his foe. He had served in Turkey and in the Great Sea. And he was always -very well paid too. Yet, though so great a soldier, he was wise in -council; and in manner he was gentle as a woman. Never did he use bad -words in all his life, to any class of men: in fact - - He was a verray perfight, gentil knight. - - - He was a very perfect, noble knight. - -As for his appearance, his horse was good, but not gay. He wore a gipon of -fustian, all stained by his habergeon;[35] for he had only just arrived -home from a long voyage. - - -The Squire. - -[Illustration] - - With him ther was his sone, a yong SQUYER, there, son - A lovyer, and a lusty bacheler,[36] merry - With lokkes crulle as they were layde in presse. locks curled - Of twenty yeer he was of age I gesse. guess - Of his stature he was of evene lengthe, - And wondurly delyver, and gret of strengthe. wonderfully - nimble, great - And he hadde ben somtyme in chivachie,[37] had been - In Flaundres, in Artoys, and in Picardie, - And born him wel, as in so litel space, little - In hope to stonden in his lady grace.[38] stand - Embrowdid[39] was he, as it were a mede - Al ful of fresshe floures, white and reede. - Syngynge he was, or flowtynge al the day; playing on the - flute - He was as fressh as is the moneth of May. - Schort was his goune, with sleeves long and wyde. - Wel cowde he sitte on hors, and faire ryde. could, horse - He cowde songes wel make and endite, relate - Justne and eek daunce, and wel purtray and write. also, draw - pictures - - - With him there was his son, a gay young squire, - A bachelor and full of boyish fire, - With locks all curl'd as though laid in a press, - And about twenty years of age, I guess. - In stature he was of an even length, - And wonderfully nimble, and great of strength. - And he had followed knightly deeds of war - In Picardy, in Flanders, and Artois, - And nobly borne himself in that brief space, - In ardent hope to win his lady's grace. - Embroidered was he, as a meadow bright, - All full of freshest flowers, red and white; - Singing he was, or flute-playing all day, - He was as fresh as is the month of May. - Short was his gown, his sleeves were long and wide, - Well he became his horse, and well could ride; - He could make songs, and ballads, and recite, - Joust and make pretty pictures, dance, and write. - -As for the young squire's manners-- - - Curteys he was, lowly, and servysable, - And carf[40] byforn his fadur at the table. carved - - - Courteous he was, lowly, and serviceable, - And carved before his father at the table. - - -The Yeoman. - -[Illustration] - - A YEMAN had he, and servantes nomoo no more - At that tyme, for him luste ryde soo; it pleased him - And he was clad in coote and hood of grene. - A shef of pocok arwes[41] bright and kene, arrows - Under his belte he bar ful thriftily, bore - Wel cowde he dresse his takel yomanly; arrow - His arwes drowpud nought with fetheres lowe,[42] arrows - And in his hond he bar a mighty bowe. bore - A not-heed hadde he, with a broun visage. v. notes, p. 111. - Of woode-craft cowde he wel al the usage; knew - Upon his arme he bar a gay bracer,[43] bore - And by his side a swerd, and a bokeler,[44] buckler - And on that other side a gay daggere, - Harneysed wel, and scharp at poynt of spere; dressed well - A Cristofre on his brest of silver schene. ornament - representing - St. Christopher - An horn he bar, the bawdrik[45] was of grene: - A forster was he sothely, as I gesse. forester, truly - - - A yeoman had he (but no suite beside: - Without attendants thus he chose to ride,) - And he was clad in coat and hood of green. - A sheaf of peacock-arrows bright and keen, - Under his belt he carried thriftily; - Well could he dress an arrow yeomanly! - None of his arrows drooped with feathers low - And in his hand he held a mighty bow. - A knot-head had he, and a sunburnt hue, - In woodcraft all the usages he knew; - Upon his arm a bracer gay he wore, - And by his side buckler and sword he bore, - While opposite a dagger dangled free; - Polished and smart, no spear could sharpe be. - A silver 'Christopher' on his breast was seen, - A horn he carried by a baldrick green: - He was a thorough forester, I guess. - - -The Prioress. - -[Illustration] - - Ther was also a Nonne, a PRIORESSE, - That of hire smylyng was ful symple and coy; her - Hire grettest ooth[46] ne was but by seynt Loy, oath - And sche was cleped madame Eglentyne. called - Ful wel sche sang the servíse devyne, - Entuned in hire nose[47] ful semyly, seemly - And Frensch sche spak ful faire and fetysly, elegantly - Aftur the scole of Stratford atte Bowe, school - For Frensch of Parys was to hire unknowe. her unknown - At mete wel i-taught was sche withalle; meat, taught - Sche leet no morsel from hire lippes falle, let - Ne wette hire fyngres in hire sauce deepe.[48] wetted - Wel cowde sche carie a morsel, and wel keepe, carry - That no drope ne fil uppon hire breste. fell - In curtesie was sett al hire leste. courtesy, - pleasure - Hire overlippe wypude sche so clene,[49] - That in hire cuppe ther was no ferthing sene scrap - Of grees, whan sche dronken hadde hire draught. had drunk - Ful semely aftur hire mete sche raught. seemly - And sikurly sche was of gret disport, assuredly - And ful plesant, and amyable of port, - And peyned hire to counterfete cheere ways - Of court, and ben estatlich of manere, stately, manner - And to ben holden digne of reverence. worthy - But for to speken of hire conscience, speak - Sche was so charitable and so pitous[50] - Sche wolde weepe if that sche sawe a mous - Caught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde. - Of smale houndes hadde sche, that sche fedde small hounds - With rostud fleissh, and mylk, and wastel breed.[51] - But sore wepte sche if oon of hem were deed, them - Or if men smot it with a yerde smerte: rod - And al was conscience and tendre herte. - Ful semely hire wymple[52] i-pynched was: - Hire nose tretys: hire eyen grey as glas: well-proportioned, - eyes, glass - Hire mouth ful smal, and therto softe and reed; - But sikurly sche hadde a faire forheed. surely - It was almost a spanne brood, I trowe: broad, think - For hardily sche was not undurgrowe. certainly, - undergrown - Ful fetys was hire cloke, as I was waar. neat - Of smal coral aboute hire arme sche baar small - A peire of bedes[53] gaudid al with grene; set of beads - And theron heng a broch of gold ful schene, jewel, bright - On which was first i-writen a crowned A, written - And after that, _Amor vincit omnia_.[54] - - - There also was a Nun, a Prioress, - Who of her smiling was most simple and coy; - Her greatest oath was only 'by St. Loy,' - And she was calléd Madame Eglantine. - Full well she sang the services divine, - Entunéd through her nose melodiously, - And French she spoke fairly and fluently, - After the school of Stratford atte Bow, - For French of Paris--_that_ she did not know. - At meal-times she was very apt withal; - No morsel from her lips did she let fall, - Nor in her sauce did wet her fingers deep; - Well could she lift a titbit, and well keep, - That not a drop should fall upon her breast; - To cultivate refinement was her taste. - Her upper lip she ever wiped so clean - That in her drinking-cup no scrap was seen - Of grease, when she had drank as she thought good. - And gracefully she reach'd forth for her food. - And she was very playful, certainly, - And pleasant, and most amiable to see. - And mighty pains she took to counterfeit - Court manners, and be stately and discreet, - And to be held as worthy reverence. - But then to tell you of her conscience! - She was so charitable and piteous - That she would weep did she but see a mouse - Caught in a trap, if it were dead or bled; - And little dogs she had, which oft she fed - With roasted meat, and milk, and finest bread; - But sore she wept if one of them were dead, - Or, haply, with a rod were smitten smart. - And all was conscience and tender heart! - Most daintily her wimple plaited was: - Her nose was straight; her eyes were grey as glass; - Her mouth was little, and so soft and red! - Besides, she had a very fine forehead, - That measured nigh a span across, I trow! - For certainly her stature was not low. - And very dainty was the cloak she wore; - Around her arm a rosary she bore, - Of coral small, with little gauds of green, - And thereon hung a golden locket sheen, - On which was graven first a crownéd A, - And after, _Amor vincit omnia_. - -The Prioress was attended by another nun, who acted as her chaplain, and -three priests. - - -The Monk. - -[Illustration] - - A MONK ther was, a fair for the maistrie,[55] mastery - An out-rydere, that lovede venerye; hunting - A manly man, to ben an abbot able. be - Ful many a deynte hors hadde he in stable: dainty horse - And whan he rood, men might his bridel heere[56] when, hear - Gyngle in a whistlyng wynd as cleere, jingling, clear - And eek as lowde as doth the chapel belle, - Ther as this lord was keper of the selle. where, religious - house - - - A monk there was--one sure to rise no doubt, - A hunter, and devoted rider out; - Manly--to be an abbot fit and able, - For many a dainty horse had he in stable; - And when he rode, his bridle you could hear - Jingle along a whistling wind as clear - And quite as loud, as doth the chapel bell, - Where this good monk is keeper of the cell. - -This jolly monk cared for little else but hunting, though this has never -been considered a proper pursuit for the clergy. He was indifferent to -what was said of him, and spared no cost to keep the most splendid -greyhounds and horses for hard riding and hare-hunting. I saw his sleeves -edged with the rare fur _gris_ at the wrist, and that the finest in the -land; his hood was fastened under his chin with a curious gold pin, which -had a love-knot in the largest end. His pate was bald and shiny, his eyes -rolled in his head; his favourite roast dish was a fat swan.[57] - - -The Friar. - -[Illustration] - - A FRERE ther was, a wantoun and a merye, friar - A lymytour,[58] a ful solempne man. solemn - In alle the ordres foure[59] is noon that can Is able to do - So moche of daliaunce and fair langage. dalliance - - * * * * * - - Ful wel biloved and famulier was he familiar - With frankeleyns[60] overal in his cuntre, country - And eek with worthi wommen of the toun: also, rich - - * * * * * - - Ful sweetly herde he confessioun, - And plesaunt was his absolucioun;[61] - He was an esy man to yeve penance easy - Ther as he wiste to han a good pitance; when, knew - For unto a poure ordre for to geve poor - Is signe that a man is wel i-schreve. shriven - For if he yaf, he dorste make avaunt, boast - He wiste that a man was repentaunt. knew - For many a man so hard is of his herte, heart - He may not wepe though him sore smerte; he may smart - Therfore in-stede of wepyng and prayeres, - Men moot yive silver to the poure freres. may - - - A friar there was, so frisky and so merry-- - A limitour, a most important man, - In the four orders there is none that can - Outdo him in sweet talk and playfulness. - - * * * * * - - He was most intimate and popular - With all the franklins dwelling near and far, - And with the wealthy women of the town. - - * * * * * - - So sweetly did he hear confession ay; - In absolution pleasant was his way. - In giving penance, very kind was he - When people made it worth his while to be; - For giving largely to some order poor - Shows that a man is free from sin, be sure, - And if a man begrudged him not his dole, - He knew he was repentant in his soul. - For many a man so hard of heart we see, - He cannot weep, however sad he be; - Therefore, instead of weeping and long prayers, - Men can give money unto the poor friars. - -He carried a number of pretty pins and knives about him that he made -presents of to people; and he could sing well, and play on the rotta.[62] -He never mingled with poor, ragged, sick people--it is not respectable to -have anything to do with such, but only with rich people who could give -good dinners. - - Somwhat he lipsede for his wantownesse, - To make his Englissch swete upon his tunge; tongue - - - Somewhat he lispéd for his wantonness, - To make his English sweet upon his tongue; - -and when he played and sang, his eyes twinkled like the stars on a frosty -night. - - -The Merchant. - -[Illustration] - - A MARCHAUNT was ther with a forked berd, beard - In motteleye, and highe on hors he sat, motley, horse - Uppon his heed a Flaundrisch bevere hat. Flemish beaver - - - A merchant was there with a forkéd beard, - In motley dress'd--high on his horse he sat, - And on his head a Flemish beaver hat. - - -The Clerk. - -[Illustration] - - A CLERK[63] ther was of Oxenford also, Oxford - That unto logik hadde longe ygo. logic, gone - As lene was his hors as is a rake, lean, horse - And he was not right fat, I undertake; - But lokede holwe, and therto soburly. looked hollow - Ful thredbare was his overest courtepy. uppermost short - cloak - For he hadde geten him yit no benefice, got - Ne was so worldly for to have office, - For him was lever have at his beddes heede he would - Twenty bookes, clothed in blak or reede, - Of Aristotil, and his philosophie, - Than robus riche, or fithul, or sawtrie. robes - - - A clerk of Oxford was amid the throng, - Who had applied his heart to learning long. - His horse, it was as skinny as a rake, - And _he_ was not too fat, I'll undertake! - But had a sober, rather hollow look; - And very threadbare was his outer cloak. - For he as yet no benefice had got: - Worldly enough for office he was not! - For liefer would he have at his bed's head - A score of books, all bound in black or red, - Of Aristotle, and his philosophy, - Than rich attire, fiddle, or psaltery. - -Yet although the poor scholar was so wise and diligent, he had hardly any -money, but all he could get from his friends he spent on books and on -learning; and often he prayed for those who gave him the means to study. -He spoke little--never more than he was obliged--but what he did speak was -always sensible and wise. - - Sownynge in moral vertu was his speche, tending to - And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche. would, learn - - - Full of true worth and goodness was his speech, - And gladly would he learn, and gladly teach. - -Then there was a - - -Serjeant-of-Law. - -[Illustration] - - Nowher so besy a man as he ther nas, was not - And yit he seemede besier than he was. - - * * * * * - - He roode but hoomly in a medlé coote mixed fabric - Gird with a seynt of silk, with barres smale. belt - - - Never has been a busier man than he, - Yet busier than he was, he seemed to be. - - * * * * * - - He rode but homely-clad, in medley coat, - Girt with a belt of silk, with little bars. - - -The Franklin. - -[Illustration: The Franklin.] - -[Illustration: Table Dormant.] - - A FRANKELEIN was in his compainye; - Whit was his berde, as is the dayesye. daisy - Of his complexioun he was sangwyn, - Wel loved he in the morwe a sop of wyn. morning - - * * * * * - - Withoute bake mete was nevere his hous, baked meats - (pies) - Of flessch and fissch, and that so plentevous - Hit snewed[64] in his hous of mete and drynke, snowed - Of alle deyntees that men cowde thynke. could think of - After the sondry sesouns of the yeer sundry - So chaungede he his mete and his soper. supper - - * * * * * - - His table dormant[65] in his halle alway - Stood redy covered al the longe day. - - - There was a Franklin in his company, - And white his beard was, as the daisies be. - With ruddy tints did his complexion shine; - Well loved he in the morn a sop of wine. - - * * * * * - - Without good meat, well cooked, was ne'er his house, - Both fish and flesh, and that so plenteous, - It seemed as though it snowed with meat and drink, - And every dainty that a man could think. - According to the seasons of the year - He changed his meats and varied his good cheer. - - * * * * * - - His table-dormant in his hall alway - Stood ready furnished forth throughout the day. - -He was the most hospitable of men, and very well-to-do. He kept open -house, for everybody to come and eat when they liked. He had often been -sheriff and knight of the shire; for he was very highly thought of. - - An anlas and gipser al of silk all - Heng at his gerdul, whit as morne mylk. - - - A dagger and a hawking-pouch of silk - Hung at his girdle, white as morning milk. - -A Haberdasher, a Carpenter, a Webber (weaver), a Dyer, and a Tapiser -(tapestry-maker) came next, with the Cook they brought with them, a -Shipman, a Doctor of Physic, and a 'worthy[66] woman,' called the Wife of -Bath, because she lived near that city. - -[Illustration: The Doctor of Physic.] - -[Illustration: The Wife of Bath.] - - -The Wife of Bath. - -She was so expert in weaving cloth, that there was no one who could come -up to her; and she thought so much of herself, that if another woman even -went up to the church altar before her, she considered it a slight upon -her. The Wife of Bath was middle-aged, and somewhat deaf: she had had five -husbands, but they had all died--she was such a shrew: and she had taken -pilgrimages to Cologne and Rome, and many other places; for she had plenty -of money, as one might see by her showy dress. - - Hire hosen weren of fyn scarlet reed, hose - Ful streyte yteyd, and schoos ful moyst and newe. - Bold was hire face, and fair and rede of hew. - - - Her stockings were of finest scarlet red, - All straitly tied, and shoes all moist and new. - Bold was her face, and fair and red of hue. - -She was well wimpled with fine kerchiefs, and her hat was as broad as a -buckler or a target. - - -The Parson. - -[Illustration] - -Then came the poor Parson--poor in condition, but 'rich in holy thought -and work'--who was so good, and staunch, and true, so tender to sinners -and severe to sin, regarding no ranks or state, but always at his post, an -example to men. - - Wyd was his parisch, and houses fer asondur, wide - But he ne lafte not for reyne ne thondur, ceased - In siknesse nor in meschief to visite - The ferrest in his parissche, moche and lite, furthest - Uppon his feet, and in his hond a staf. - - * * * * * - - But Cristes lore and his apostles twelve - He taught, and ferst he folwed it himselve.[67] followed - - - Wide was his parish, the houses far asunder, - But never did he fail, for rain or thunder, - In sickness and in woe to visit all - Who needed--far or near, and great and small-- - On foot, and having in his hand a staff. - - * * * * * - - Christ's and the twelve apostles' law he taught, - But first himself obey'd it, as he ought. - - -The Ploughman. - -Then the parson's brother, who was only a Ploughman, and worked hard in -the fields, kind to his neighbours, ever honest, loving God above all -things. He wore a tabard, and rode on a mare.[68] - -There was also a Miller, a Manciple, a Reve, a Summoner, a Pardoner, and -myself [Chaucer]. - -[Illustration: The Ploughman.] - -[Illustration: The Summoner.] - -[Illustration: The Pardoner.] - - -The Summoner. - -The Summoner[69] was a terrible-looking person, and rode with the -Pardoner, who was his friend: the Pardoner singing a lively song, and the -Summoner growling out a bass to it, with a loud, harsh voice. As for his -looks, he had - - A fyr-reed cherubynes face,[70] - For sawceflem he was with eyghen narwe. pimply - - A 'fiery-cherubin' red face, - For pimply he was, with narrow eyes. - -Children were sore afraid of him when they saw him, he was so repulsive, -and so cruel in extorting his gains. He was a very bad man: for though it -was his duty to call up before the Archdeacon's court anybody whom he -found doing wrong, yet he would let the wickedest people off, if they -bribed him with money; and many poor people who did nothing wrong he -forced to give him their hard earnings, threatening else to report them -falsely to the Archdeacon. He carried a large cake with him for a buckler, -and wore a garland big enough for the sign-post of an inn.[71] - - -The Pardoner. - -The Pardoner[72] was a great cheat too, and so the friends were well -matched; he had long thin hair, as yellow as wax, that hung in shreds on -his shoulders. He wore no hood, but kept it in his wallet: he thought -himself quite in the tip-top of fashion. - - Dischevele, sauf his cappe, he rood al bare. except - Suche glaryng eyghen hadde he, as an hare. such, eyes - A vernicle[73] hadde he sowed on his cappe; - His walet lay byforn him in his lappe. before - - * * * * * - - But trewely to tellen atte laste, truly - He was in churche a noble ecclesiaste. - Wel cowde he rede a lessoun or a storye,[74] - But altherbest he sang an offertorie: best of all - For wel he wyste, whan that song was songe knew, when - He moste preche, and wel affyle his tonge, preach, whet - To wynne silver, as he right wel cowde: win - Therfore he sang ful meriely and lowde. - - - Dishevell'd, save his cap, he rode barehead: - Such glaring eyes, like to a hare, he had! - A vernicle was sewed upon his cap; - His wallet lay before him, in his lap. - - * * * * * - - But honestly to tell the truth at last, - He was in church a noble ecclesiast. - Well could he read a lesson or a story, - But ever best he sang the offertory: - For well he knew that after he had sung, - For preaching he must polish up his tongue, - And thus make money, as he right well could: - Therefore he sang full merrily and loud. - -Now I have told you as much as I can what people came into the Tabard Inn -that night, and why they were all travelling together, and where they were -going. - -[Illustration: Mine Host.] - -Our host made us very welcome, and gave us a capital supper. He was a -thoroughly good fellow, our host--a large, stout man, with bright, -prominent eyes, sensible and well behaved, and very merry. - -After supper, he made us all laugh a good deal with his witty jests; and -when we had all paid our reckonings, he addressed us all:-- - - And sayde thus: Lo, lordynges, trewely truly - Ye ben to me right welcome hertily: - For by my trouthe, if that I schal not lye, shall, lie - I ne saugh this yeer so mery a companye saw - At oones in this herbergh, as is now. inn (auberge) - Fayn wolde I do yow merthe, wiste I how. - And of a merthe I am right now bythought, - To doon you eese, and it schal coste nought. do, ease - - - And said to us: "My masters, certainly - Ye be to me right welcome, heartily: - For by my truth, and flattering none, say I, - I have not seen so large a company - At once inside my inn this year, as now! - I'd gladly make you mirth if I knew how. - And of a pleasant game I'm just bethought - To cheer the journey--it shall cost you nought! - -"Whoever wants to know how, hold up your hands." We all held up our hands, -and begged him to say on. - -"Well, my masters," said he, "I say that each of you shall tell the rest -four stories--two on the way to Canterbury, and two on the way home. For -you know it is small fun riding along as dumb as a stone. And whichever in -the party tells the best story, shall have a supper at this inn at the -cost of the rest when you come back. To amuse you better, I will myself -gladly join your party, and ride to Canterbury at my own expense, and be -at once guide and judge; and whoever gainsays my judgment shall pay for -all we spend by the way. Now, tell me if you all agree, and I will get me -ready in time to start." - -We were all well pleased; and the next morning, at daybreak, our clever -host called us all together, and we rode off to a place called the -Watering of St. Thomas.[75] There we halted, and drew lots who should tell -the story first, knight, clerk, lady prioress, and everybody. - -The lot fell to the knight, which every one was glad of; and as soon as we -set forward, he began at once. - - -Notes by the Way. - -One of the things most deserving of notice in reading Chaucer is his -singularly strong grasp of character. In the 'Canterbury Tales' this is -self-evident, and the succinct catalogue of the thirty-one pilgrims, which -in feebler hands would have been dry enough, is a masterpiece of -good-humoured satire, moral teaching, and, above all, photographic -portraits from life. You will notice that Chaucer meant to make his -'Canterbury Tales' much longer than he lived to do. His innkeeper proposes -that each of the pilgrims shall tell four stories. Only twenty-four of -these exist. - -You will never find any character drawn by Chaucer acting, speaking, or -looking inconsistently. He has always well hold of his man, and he turns -him inside out relentlessly. He very seldom analyzes thought or motives, -but he shows you what _is_ so clearly, that you know what _must_ be -without his telling you. - -The good-humoured _naïveté_ of mine host, like all his class, never -forgetful of business in the midst of play, is wonderfully well hit off; -for the innkeeper clearly would be the gainer by this pleasant stratagem: -and he prevents any one's giving him the slip by going with them to -Canterbury and back. The guests are glad enough of his company, for he -could be especially useful to them on the way. - -The stories, also, will be found perfectly characteristic of the -tellers--there is no story given to a narrator whose rank, education, or -disposition make it inconsistent. Each tells a tale whose incidents savour -of his natural occupation and sympathies, and the view each takes of right -or wrong modes of conduct is well seen in the manner as well as the -matter. - -Chaucer's personal distrust of and contempt for the contemporary Church -and its creatures was the natural and healthy aversion of a pure mind and -a sincerely religious heart to a form of godliness denying the power -thereof--a Church which had become really corrupt. It is significant of -his perfect artistic thoroughness that, with this aversion, he never puts -an immoral or unfitting tale into the mouth of nun or friar; for it would -be most unlikely that these persons, whatever their private character -might be, would criminate themselves in public. - - - - -The Knight's Tale. - - -Once upon a time, as old stories tell us, there was a duke named Theseus, -lord and governor of Athens, in Greece, and in his time such a conqueror -that there was none greater under the sun. Full many a rich country owned -his sway. - - That with his wisdam and his chivalrie, - He conquered al the regne of Femynye, kingdom, Amazons - That whilom was i-cleped Cithea; once, called - And wedded the fresshe quene Ipolita,[76] fresh - And brought her hoom with him to his contre, country - With mochel glorie and gret solempnite; much, solemnity - And eek hire yonge suster Emelye. also, sister - And thus with victorie and with melodye music - Lete I this noble duk to Athenes ryde, duke - And al his ost, in armes him biside. arms - - - What with his wisdom and his chivalry - The kingdom of the Amazons won he, - That was of old time naméd Scythia, - And wedded the fresh Queen Ipolita, - And brought her to his own land sumptuously, - With pomp and glory, and great festivity; - And also her young sister Emelye. - And thus with victory and with melodie - Let I this noble duke to Athens ride, - And all his glittering hosts on either side. - -And, certainly, if it were not too long to listen to, I would have told -you fully how the kingdom of the Amazons was won by Theseus and his host. -And of the great battle there was for the time between Athens and the -Amazons; and how Ipolita--the fair, hardy queen of Scythia--was besieged; -and about the feast that was held at the wedding of Theseus and Ipolita, -and about the tempest at their home-coming. But all this I must cut short. - - I have, God wot, a large feeld to ere; plough - And wayke ben the oxen in my plough. weak - - - I have, God knows, a full wide field to sow, - And feeble be the oxen in my plough. - -I will not hinder anybody in the company. Let every one tell his story in -turn, and let us see now who shall win the supper! - -I will describe to you what happened as Theseus was bringing home his -bride to Athens. - - This duk, of whom I make mencioun, - Whan he was comen almost unto the toun, come - In al his wele and in his moste pryde, prosperity - He was war, as he cast his eyghe aside, aware - Wher that ther knelede in the hye weye kneeled - A compagnye of ladies, tweye and tweye, two - Ech after other, clad in clothes blake; each, black - But such a cry and such a woo they make, woe - That in this world nys creature lyvynge, - That herde such another weymentynge, - And of that cry ne wolde they never stenten, cease - Til they the reynes of his bridel henten. caught - What folk be ye that at myn hom comynge - Pertourben so my feste[77] with cryinge? perturb - Quod Theseus; Have ye so gret envye - Of myn honour, that thus compleyne and crie? - Or who hath yow misboden or offendid? injured - And telleth me, if it may ben amendid; - And why that ye ben clad thus al in blak? black - The oldest lady of hem alle spak.... them - - - This duke aforesaid, of deserved renown, - When he had almost come into the town - In all his splendour and in all his pride, - Perceivéd, as he cast his eyes aside, - A company of ladies, in a row, - Were kneeling in the highway--two by two, - Each behind each, clad all in black array; - But such an outcry of lament made they, - That in this world there is no living thing - That e'er heard such another outcrying; - Nor would they cease to wail and to complain - Till they had caught him by his bridle-rein. - "What folk are ye who at my home-coming - Perturb my festival with murmuring," - Quoth Theseus. "Or do you envy me - Mine honour that ye wail so woefully? - Or who hath injured you, or who offended? - Tell me, if haply it may be amended, - And why are all of you in black arrayed?" - The oldest lady of them all then said-- - -"Lord, to whom fortune has given victory, and to live ever as a conqueror, -we do not grudge your glory[78] and honour, but we have come to implore -your pity and help. Have mercy on us in our grief. There is not one of us -that has not been a queen or duchess; now we are beggars, and you can help -us if you will. - -"I was wife to King Capaneus, who died at Thebes[79]: and all of us who -kneel and weep have lost our husbands there during a siege; and now Creon, -who is king of Thebes, has piled together these dead bodies, and will not -suffer them to be either burned or buried." - -And with these words all the ladies wept more piteously than ever, and -prayed Theseus to have compassion on their great sorrow. - -The kind duke descended from his horse, full of commiseration for the poor -ladies. He thought his heart would break with pity when he saw them so -sorrowful and dejected, who had been lately of so noble a rank. - -He raised them all, and comforted them, and swore an oath that as he was a -true knight, he would avenge them on the tyrant king of Thebes in such a -fashion that all the people of Greece should be able to tell how Theseus -served Creon! - -The duke sent his royal bride and her young sister Emelye on to the town -of Athens, whilst he displayed his banner, marshalled his men, and rode -forth towards Thebes. For himself, till he had accomplished this duty, he -would not enter Athens, nor take his ease for one half-day therein. - -The duke's white banner bore the red statue of Mars upon it; and by his -banner waved his pennon, which had the monster Minotaur (slain by Theseus -in Greece) beaten into it in gold. Thus rode this duke--thus rode this -conqueror and all his host--the flower of chivalry--till he came to -Thebes. - -To make matters short, Theseus fought with the King of Thebes, and slew -him manly as a knight in fair battle, and routed his whole army. Then he -destroyed the city, and gave up to the sorrowful ladies the bones of their -husbands, to burn honourably after their fashion. - -When the worthy duke had slain Creon and taken the city, he remained all -night in the field. During the pillage which followed, it happened that -two young knights were found still alive, lying in their rich armour, -though grievously wounded. By their coat-armour[80] the heralds knew they -were of the blood-royal of Thebes; two cousins, the sons of two sisters. -Their names were Palamon and Arcite. - -These two knights were carried as captives to Theseus' tent, and he sent -them off to Athens, where they were to be imprisoned for life; no ransom -would he take. - -Then the duke went back to Athens crowned with laurel, where he lived in -joy and in honour all his days, while Palamon and Arcite were shut up in a -strong tower full of anguish and misery, beyond all reach of help. - -Thus several years passed. - - This passeth yeer by yeer, and day by day, - Till it fel oones in a morwe of May morning - That Emelye, that fairer was to seene see - Than is the lilie on hire stalkes grene, - And fresscher than the May with floures newe-- flowers - For with the rose colour strof hire hewe, strove, hue - I n'ot which was the fayrere of hem two-- - Er it were day as sche was wont to do, - Sche was arisen, and al redy dight; dressed - For May wole han no sloggardye a nyght. sloth - The sesoun priketh every gentil herte, - And maketh him out of his sleepe sterte, - And seith, Arys, and do thin observaunce.[81] arise, thine - This maked Emelye han remembraunce - To don honour to May, and for to ryse. do - I-clothed was sche fressh for to devyse.[82] clothed - Hire yolwe heer was browdid in a tresse, yellow - Byhynde hire bak, a yerde long I gesse. - And in the gardyn at the sonne upriste - Sche walketh up and doun wher as hire liste. pleased - Sche gadereth floures, party whyte and reede, - To make a sotil gerland[83] for hire heede, - And as an aungel hevenly sche song. - - - Thus passeth year by year, and day by day, - Till it fell once upon a morn of May - That Emelye--more beauteous to be seen - Than is the lily on his stalk of green, - And fresher than the May with flowers new - (For with the rose's colour strove her hue - I know not which was fairer of the two) - Early she rose as she was wont to do, - All ready robed before the day was bright; - For May time will not suffer sloth at night; - The season pricketh every gentle heart, - And maketh him out of his sleep to start, - And saith, Rise up, salute the birth of spring! - And therefore Emelye, remembering - To pay respect to May, rose speedily: - Attired she was all fresh and carefully, - Her yellow hair was braided in a tress - Behind her back, a full yard long, I guess, - And in the garden as the sun uprose - She wandered up and down where as she chose. - She gathereth flowers, partly white and red, - To make a cunning garland for her head, - And as an angel heavenly she sang. - -[Illustration: FAIR EMELYE GATHERING FLOWERS. - - 'The fairnesse of the lady that I see - Yonde in the gardyn romynge to and fro.'] - -The great tower, so thick and strong, in which these two knights were -imprisoned, was close-joined to the wall of the garden. - -Bright was the sun, and clear, that morning, as Palamon, by leave of his -jailor, had risen, and was roaming about in an upper chamber, from which -he could see the whole noble city of Athens, and also the garden, full of -green boughs, just where fresh Emelye was walking. - -This sorrowful prisoner, this Palamon, kept pacing to and fro in this -chamber, wishing he had never been born; and it happened by chance that -through the window, square and barred with iron, he cast his eyes on -Emelye. - -He started and cried out aloud, "Ah!" as though he were stricken to the -heart. - -And with that cry Arcite sprang up, saying, "Dear cousin, what ails you? -You are quite pale and deathly. Why did you cry out? For God's love be -patient with this prison life since it cannot be altered. What is Heaven's -will we must endure." - -Palamon answered, "Cousin, it is not that--not this dungeon made me cry -out--but I was smitten right now through the eye into my heart. The -fairness of a lady that I see yonder in the garden, roaming to and fro, -made me cry out. I know not whether she be woman or goddess: but I think -it is Venus herself!" - -And he fell down on his knees and cried, "Venus, if it be thy will thus to -transfigure thyself in the garden, help us to escape out of the tower." - -Then Arcite looked forth and saw this lady roaming to and fro, and her -beauty touched him so deeply that he said, sighing, "The fresh beauty of -her will slay me. And if I cannot gain her mercy, I am but dead, and there -is an end." - -But Palamon turned furiously on him, and said, "Do you say that in earnest -or in play?" - -"Nay," cried Arcite, "in earnest by my faith--God help me, I am in no mood -for play." - -"It were no great honour to thee," cried Palamon, "to be false and a -traitor to me, who am thy cousin and thy brother, sworn as we are both, to -help and not hinder one another, in all things till death part us. And now -you would falsely try to take my lady from me, whom I love and serve, and -ever shall till my heart break. Now, certainly, false Arcite, you shall -not do it. I loved her first, and told thee, and thou art bound as a -knight to help me, or thou art false!" - -But Arcite answered proudly, "Thou shalt be rather false than I--and thou -_art_ false, I tell thee, utterly! For I loved her with real love before -you did. You did not know whether she were woman or goddess. Yours is a -religious feeling, and mine is love as to a mortal; which I told you as my -cousin, and my sworn brother. And even if you _had_ loved her first, what -matters it? A man loves because he can't help it, not because he wishes. -Besides, you will never gain her grace more than I, for both of us are -life-long captives. It is like the dogs who fought all day over a bone; -and while they were fighting over it, a kite came and carried it off." - -Long the two knights quarrelled and disputed about the lady who was out of -their reach. But you shall see what came to pass. - -There was a duke called Perithous, who had been fellow and brother in -arms[84] of Duke Theseus since both were children, and he came to Athens -to visit Theseus. These two dukes were very great friends: so much so that -they loved no one so much as each other. - -Now, Duke Perithous had known Arcite at Thebes, years before, and liked -him, and he begged Theseus to let Arcite out of prison. - -Theseus consented, but only on the condition that Arcite should quit -Athens; and that he should lose his head, were he ever found there again. - -So Arcite became a free man, but he was banished the kingdom. - -How unhappy then Arcite was! He felt that he was worse off than ever. "Oh, -how I wish I had never known Perithous!" cried he. "Far rather would I be -back in Theseus' prison, for _then_ I could see the beautiful lady I -love." - - O dere cosyn Palamon, quod he, - Thyn is the victorie of this aventure, thine, chance - Ful blisfully in prisoun maistow dure; may'st thou - endure - In prisoun? certes nay, but in paradys! - Wel hath fortune y-torned the the dys. thee - - - "O my dear cousin, Palamon," cried he, - "In this ill hap the gain is on thy side. - Thou blissful in thy prison may'st abide! - In prison? truly nay--but in paradise! - Kindly toward thee hath fortune turn'd the dice." - -So Arcite mourned ever, because he was far away from Athens where the -beautiful lady dwelt, and was always thinking that perhaps Palamon would -get pardoned, and marry the lady, while he would never see her any more. - -But Palamon, on the other hand, was so unhappy when his companion was -taken away, that he wept till the great tower resounded, and his very -fetters were wet with his tears. - -"Alas, my dear cousin," he sighed, "the fruit of all our strife is -thine!--You walk free in Thebes, and think little enough of my woe, I -daresay. You will perhaps gather a great army and make war on this -country, and get the beautiful lady to wife whom I love so much! while I -die by inches in my cage." - -And with that his jealousy started up like a fire within him, so that he -was nigh mad, and pale as ashes. "O cruel gods!" he cried, "that govern -the world with your eternal laws, how is man better than a sheep lying in -the fold? For, like any other beast, man dies, or lives in prison, or is -sick, or unfortunate, and often is quite guiltless all the while. And when -a beast is dead, it has no pain further; but man may suffer after death, -as well as in this world." - -Now I will leave Palamon, and tell you more of Arcite. - -Arcite, in Thebes, fell into such excessive sorrow for the loss of the -beautiful lady that there never was a creature so sad before or since. He -ceased to eat and drink, and sleep, and grew as thin and dry as an arrow. -His eyes were hollow and dreadful to behold, and he lived always alone, -mourning and lamenting night and day. He was so changed that no one could -recognize his voice nor his look. Altogether he was the saddest picture of -a man that ever was seen--except Palamon. - -One night he had a dream. He dreamed that the winged god Mercury stood -before him, bidding him be merry; and commanded him to go to Athens, where -all his misery should end. - -Arcite sprang up, and said, "I will go straight to Athens. Nor will I -spare to see my lady through fear of death--in her presence I am ready -even to die!" - -He caught up a looking-glass, and saw how altered his face was, so that no -one would know him. And lie suddenly bethought him that now he was so -disfigured with his grief, he might go and dwell in Athens without being -recognized, and see his lady nearly every day. - -He dressed himself as a poor labourer, and accompanied only by a humble -squire, who knew all he had suffered, he hastened to Athens. - -He went to the court of Theseus, and offered his services at the gate to -drudge and draw, or do any menial work that could be given him. Well could -he hew wood and carry water, for he was young and very strong. Now, it -happened that the chamberlain of fair Emelye's house took Arcite into his -service. - -Thus Arcite became page of the chamber of Emelye the bright, and he called -himself Philostrate. - -Never was man so well thought of!--he was so gentle of condition that he -became known throughout the court. People said it would be but right if -Theseus promoted this Philostrate, and placed him in a rank which would -better display his talents and virtues. - -At last Theseus raised him to be squire of his chamber, and gave him -plenty of gold to keep up his degree. Moreover, his own private rent was -secretly brought to him from Thebes year by year. But he spent it so -cunningly that no one suspected him. In this crafty way Arcite lived a -long time very happily, and bore himself so nobly both in peace and war -that there was no man in the land dearer to Theseus. - -Now we will go back to Palamon. - -Poor Palamon had been for seven years in his terrible prison, and was -quite wasted away with misery. There was not the slightest chance of -getting out; and his great love made him frantic. At last, however, one -May night some pitying friend helped him to give his jailor a drink which -sent him into a deep sleep: so that Palamon made his escape from the -tower. He fled from the city as fast as ever he could go, and hid himself -in a grove; meaning afterwards to go by night secretly to Thebes, and beg -all his friends to aid him to make war on Theseus. And then he would soon -either die or get Emelye to wife. - - Now wol I torn unto Arcite agayn, turn - That litel wiste how nyh that was his care, know, near - Til that fortune hadde brought him in the snare. - The busy larke, messager of day, - Salueth in hire song the morwe gray; saluteth - And fyry Phebus ryseth up so brighte, - That al the orient laugheth of the lighte, - And with his stremes dryeth in the greves rays, groves - The silver dropes, hongyng on the leeves. leaves - And Arcite, that is in the court ryal royal[85] - With Theseus, his squyer principal, squire - Is risen, and loketh on the merye day. - And for to doon his observaunce to May, do, ceremony - Remembryng on the poynt of his desir, - He on his courser, stertyng as the fir, starting, fire - Is riden into the feeldes him to pleye fields, play - Out of the court, were it a myle or tweye. - And to the grove of which that I yow tolde, you - By aventure his wey he gan to holde, chance, began - To maken him a garland of the greves, make - Were it of woodebynde or hawethorn leves, leaves - And lowde he song ayens the sonne scheene: sang, against - O May,[86] with al thy floures and thy greene, - Welcome be thou, wel faire freissche May! - I hope that I som grene gete may. some, may get - And fro his courser, with a lusty herte, heart - Into the grove ful hastily he sterte, started - And in a pathe he romed up and doun, roamed - Ther as by aventure this Palamoun where, chance - Was in a busche, that no man might him see, - For sore afered of his deth was he. afraid, death - Nothing ne knew he that it was Arcite: - God wot he wolde han trowed it ful lite. knows, guessed, - little - For soth is seyd, goon sithen many yeres, truly, gone, - since - That feld hath eyen, and the woode hath eeres. eyes, ears - - - Now will I tell you of Arcite again, - Who little guess'd how nigh him was his care - Until his fortune brought him in the snare. - The busy lark, the messenger of day, - Saluteth in her song the morning grey; - And fiery Phoebus riseth up so bright, - That all the orient laugheth for the light; - And in the woods he drieth with his rays - The silvery drops that hang along the sprays. - Arcite--unknown, yet ever waxing higher - In Theseus' royal court, now chiefest squire-- - Is risen, and looketh on the merry day: - And, fain to offer homage unto May, - He, mindful of the point of his desire, - Upon his courser leapeth, swift as fire, - And rideth to keep joyous holiday - Out in the fields, a mile or two away. - And, as it chanced, he made towards the grove, - All thick with leaves, whereof I spake above, - Eager to weave a garland with a spray - Of woodbine, or the blossoms of the may. - And loud against the sunshine sweet he sings, - "O May, with all thy flowers and thy green things, - Right welcome be thou, fairest, freshest May! - Yield me of all thy tender green to-day!" - Then from his courser merrily he sprang, - And plunged into the thicket as he sang; - Till in a path he chanced to make his way - Nigh to where Palamon in secret lay. - Sore frighted for his life was Palamon: - But Arcite pass'd, unknowing and unknown; - And neither guess'd his brother was hard by; - But Arcite knew not any man was nigh. - So was it said of old, how faithfully, - 'The woods have ears, the empty field can see.' - -A man should be prudent, even when he fancies himself safest: for -oftentimes come unlooked-for meetings. And little enough thought Arcite -that his sworn brother from the tower was at hand, sitting as still as a -mouse while he sang. - - Whan that Arcite hadde romed al his fill, - And songen al the roundel lustily, - Into a studie he fel sodeynly, reverie - As don thes loveres in here queynte geeres, curious fashions - Now in the croppe,[87] now doun in the breres, briars - Now up, now doun, as boket in a welle. - - - Now when Arcite long time had roam'd his fill, - And sung all through the rondel lustily, - He fell into dejection suddenly, - As lovers in their strange way often do, - Now in the clouds and now in abject wo, - Now up, now down, as bucket in a well. - -He sat down and began to make a kind of song of lamentation. "Alas," he -cried, "the day that I was born! How long, O Juno, wilt thou oppress -Thebes? All her royal blood is brought to confusion. I myself am of royal -lineage, and yet now I am so wretched and brought so low, that I have -become slave and squire to my mortal foe. Even my own proud name of Arcite -I dare not bear, but pass by the worthless one of Philostrate! Ah, Mars -and Juno, save me, and wretched Palamon, martyred by Theseus in prison! -For all my pains are for my love's sake, and Emelye, whom I will serve all -my days." - - Ye slen me with youre eyen, Emelye; - Ye ben the cause wherfore that I dye: be - Of al the remenant of myn other care remnant - Ne sette I nought the mountaunce of a tare, amount - So that I couthe don aught to youre pleasaunce! were able to - - - "You slay me with your eyes, O Emelye! - You are the cause wherefore I daily die. - For, ah, the worth of all my other woes - Is not as e'en the poorest weed that grows, - So that I might do aught to pleasure you!" - -Palamon, hearing this, felt as though a cold sword glided through his -heart. He was so angry that he flung himself forth like a madman upon -Arcite:-- - - And seyde: False[88] Arcyte--false traitour wikke, wicked - Now art thou hent, that lovest my lady so, - For whom that I have al this peyne and wo, - And art my blood, and to my counseil sworn, counsel - As I ful ofte have told the heere byforn, before now - And hast byjaped here duke Theseus, tricked - And falsly chaunged hast thy name thus; - I wol be deed, or elles thou schalt dye. dead, else - Thou schalt not love my lady Emelye, - But I wil love hire oonly and no mo; more - For I am Palamon, thy mortal fo. foe - And though that I no wepne have in this place, weapon - But out of prisoun am astert by grace, escaped - I drede not, that outher thou schalt dye, fear - Or thou ne schalt not loven Emelye. - Ches which thou wilt, for thou schalt not asterte. escape - This Arcite, with ful dispitous herte, there - Whan he him knew, and hadde his tale herde, - As fers as a lyoun, pulleth out a swerde, fierce - And seide thus: By God that sitteth above, - Nere it that thou art sike and wood for love, were it not - And eek that thou no wepne hast in this place, also - Thou schuldest nevere out of this grove pace, step - That thou ne schuldest deyen of myn hond. die - For I defye the seurté and the bond defy - Which that thou seyst that I have maad to the; sayest - What, verray fool, thenk wel that love is fre! - And I wol love hire mawgré al thy might. In spite of - But, for thou art a gentil perfight knight, because - And wilnest to dereyne hire by batayle, art willing - Have heere my trouthe, to morwe I nyl not fayle, pledge - Withouten wityng of eny other wight, without knowledge - That heer I wol be founden as a knight, will, found - And bryngen harneys[89] right inough for the; - And ches the best, and lef the worst for me. - And mete and drynke this night wil I brynge - Inough for the, and clothes for thy beddynge. - And if so be that thou my lady wynne, win - And sle me in this wode, ther I am inne, wood - Thou maist wel have thy lady as for me. - This Palamon answerde, I graunt it the. - - - Crying, "False, wicked traitor! false Arcite! - Now art thou caught, that lov'st my lady so, - For whom I suffer all this pain and wo! - Yet art my blood--bound to me by thy vow, - As I have told thee oftentimes ere now-- - And hast so long befool'd Duke Theseus - And falsely hid thy name and nurture thus! - For all this falseness thou or I must die. - Thou shalt not love my lady Emelye-- - But I will love her and no man but I, - For I am Palamon, thine enemy! - And tho' I am unarmed, being but now - Escap'd from out my dungeon, care not thou, - For nought I dread--for either thou shalt die - Now--or thou shalt not love my Emelye. - Choose as thou wilt--thou shalt not else depart." - But Arcite, with all fury in his heart, - Now that he knew him and his story heard, - Fierce as a lion, snatch'd he forth his sword, - Saying these words: "By Him who rules above, - Were't not that thou art sick and mad for love, - And hast no weapon--never should'st thou move, - Living or like to live, from out this grove, - But thou shouldest perish by my hand! on oath - I cast thee back the bond and surety, both, - Which thou pretendest I have made to thee. - What? very fool! remember love is free, - And I will love her maugré all thy might! - But since thou art a worthy, noble knight, - And willing to contest her in fair fight, - Have here my troth, to-morrow, at daylight, - Unknown to all, I will not fail nor fear - To meet thee as a knight in combat here, - And I will bring full arms for me and thee; - And choose the best, and leave the worst for me! - And I will bring thee meat and drink to-night, - Enough for thee, and bedding as is right: - And if the victory fall unto thine hand, - To slay me in this forest where I stand, - Thou may'st attain thy lady-love, for me!" - Then Palamon replied--"I grant it thee." - -Then these, who had once been friends, parted till the morrow. - - O Cupide, out of alle charite! all - O regne that wolt no felaw have with the! kingdom - Ful soth is seyd, that love ne lordschipe truly, nor - Wol not, thonkes, have no felaschipe. willingly, - fellowship - Wel fynden that Arcite and Palamoun. find - Arcite is riden anon unto the toun - And on the morwe, or it were dayes light, before - Ful prively two harneys hath he dight, prepared - Bothe suffisaunt and mete to darreyne sufficient - The batayl in the feeld betwix hem tweyne. field, them, two - And on his hors alone as he was born, carried - He caryed al this harneys him byforn; before - And in the grove, at tyme and place i-sette, - This Arcite and this Palamon ben mette. be - Tho chaungen gan here colour in here face, then, their - Right as the honter in the regne of Trace kingdom - That stondeth in the gappe with a spere, - Whan honted is the lyoun or the bere, - And hereth him come ruschyng in the greves, groves - And breketh bothe the bowes and the leves, breaking - And thenketh, Here cometh my mortel enemy, - Withoute faile, he mot be deed or I; without - For eyther I mot slen him at the gappe, - Or he moot slee me, if it me myshappe: - So ferden they, in chaungyng of here hew, their hue - As fer as eyther of hem other knewe. far, them - Ther nas no good day, ne no saluyng; was not, saluting - But streyt withouten wordes rehersyng, - Everich of hem helpeth to armen other, each, helped - As frendly, as he were his owen brother; own - And thanne with here scharpe speres stronge - They foyneden ech at other wonder longe, foined - Tho it semede that this Palamon then, seemed - In his fightyng were as a wood lyoun, mad - And as a cruel tygre was Arcite:[90] - As wilde boores gonne they to smyte, began - That frothen white as fome, for ire wood, their madness - Up to the ancle faught they in here blood.[91] their - And in this wise I lete hem fightyng dwelle; - And forth I wol of Theseus yow telle. you - - - O god of love, that hast no charity! - O realm, that wilt not bear a rival nigh! - Truly 'tis said, that love and lordship ne'er - Will be contented only with a share. - Arcite and Palamon have found it so. - Arcite is ridden soon the town unto: - And, on the morrow, ere the sun was high, - Two harness hath he brought forth privily, - Meet and sufficing for the lonely fight - Out in the battle-field mid daisies white. - And riding onward solitarily - All this good armour on his horse bore he: - And at the time and place which they had set - Ere long Arcite and Palamon are met. - To change began the colour of each face-- - Ev'n as the hunter's, in the land of Thrace, - When at a gap he standeth with a spear, - In the wild hunt of lion or of bear, - And heareth him come rushing through the wood, - Crashing the branches in his madden'd mood, - And think'th, "Here com'th my mortal enemy, - Now without fail or he or I must die; - For either I must slay him at the gap, - Or he must slay me if there be mishap." - So fared the knights so far as either knew, - When, seeing each, each deepen'd in his hue. - There was no greeting--there was no 'Good day,' - But mute, without a single word, straightway - Each one in arming turn'd to help the other, - As like a friend as though he were his brother. - And after that, with lances sharp and strong, - They dash'd upon each other--lief and long. - You might have fancied that this Palamon, - Fighting so blindly, were a mad liòn, - And like a cruel tiger was Arcite. - As two wild boars did they together smite, - That froth as white as foam for rage--they stood - And fought until their feet were red with blood. - Thus far awhile I leave them to their fight. - And now what Theseus did I will recite. - -Then something happened that neither of them expected. - -It was a bright clear day, and Theseus, hunting with his fair queen -Ipolita, and Emelye, clothed all in green, came riding by after the hart, -with all the dogs around them; and as they followed the hart, suddenly -Theseus looked out of the dazzle of the sun, and saw Arcite and Palamon in -sharp fight, like two bulls for fury. The bright swords flashed to and fro -so hideously that it seemed as though their smallest blows would fell an -oak. But the duke knew not who they were that fought.[92] - -Theseus smote his spurs into his horse, and galloped in between the -knights, and, drawing his sword, cried, "Ho![93] No more, on pain of -death! By mighty Mars, he dies who strikes a blow in my presence!" Then -Theseus asked them what manner of men they were, who dared to fight there, -without judge or witness, as though it were in royal lists?[94] - -You may imagine the two men turning on Theseus, breathless and bloody with -fight, weary with anger, and their vengeance still unslaked. - - This Palamon answerde hastily, - And seyde: Sire, what nedeth wordes mo? need - We han the deth deserved bothe tuo. two - Tuo woful wrecches ben we, tuo kaytyves wretches, - captives - That ben encombred of oure owne lyves, encumbered by - And as thou art a rightful lord and juge - Ne yeve us neyther mercy ne refuge. give us not - And sle me first, for seynte charite; holy - But sle my felaw eek as wel as me. also - Or sle him first; for, though thou know him lyte, little - This is thy mortal fo, this is Arcite, - That fro thy lond is banyscht on his heed - For which he hath i-served to be deed. deserved - For this is he that come to thi gate - And seyde, that he highte Philostrate. was named - Thus hath he japed the ful many a yer, befooled - And thou hast maad of him thy cheef squyer. made - And this is he that loveth Emelye. - For sith the day is come that I schal dye, - I make pleynly my confessioun, - That I am thilke woful Palamoun, that - That hath thy prisoun broke wikkedly. wickedly - I am thy mortal foo, and it am I - That loveth so hoote Emelye the brighte, - That I wol dye present in hire sighte. - Therfore I aske deeth and my juwyse; sentence - But slee my felaw in the same wyse, slay - For bothe we have served to be slayn. - This worthy duk answerde anon agayn, - And seyde: This is a schort conclusioun: - Your owne mouth, by your confessioun, own - Hath dampned you bothe, and I wil it recorde. condemned - It needeth nought to pyne yow with the corde.[95] - Ye schul be deed by mighty Mars the reede! dead - - - And Palamon made answer hastily, - And said--"O Sire, why should we waste more breath? - For both of us deserve to die the death. - Two wretched creatures are we, glad to die - Tired of our lives, tired of our misery-- - And as thou art a rightful lord and judge - So give us neither mercy nor refùge! - And slay me first, for holy charity-- - But slay my fellow too as well as me! - --Or slay him first, for though thou little know, - This is Arcite--this is thy mortal foe, - Who from thy land was banished on his head, - For which he richly merits to be dead! - Yea, this is he who came unto thy gate, - And told thee that his name was Philostrate-- - Thus year by year hath he defied thine ire-- - And thou appointest him thy chiefest squire - --And this is he who loveth Emelye! - "For since the day is come when I shall die, - Thus plain I make confession, and I own - I am that miserable Palamon - Who have thy prison broken wilfully! - I am thy mortal foe,--and it is I - Who love so madly Emelye the bright, - That I would die this moment in her sight! - Therefore I ask death and my doom to-day-- - But slay my fellow in the selfsame way:-- - For we have both deservëd to be slain." - And angrily the duke replied again, - "There is no need to judge you any more, - Your own mouth, by confession, o'er and o'er - Condemns you, and I will the words record. - There is no need to pain you with the cord. - Ye both shall die, by mighty Mars the red!" - -Then the queen, 'for verray wommanhede,' began to weep, and so did Emelye, -and all the ladies present. It seemed pitiful that two brave men, both of -high lineage, should come to such an end, and only for loving a lady so -faithfully. All the ladies prayed Theseus to have mercy on them, and -pardon the knights for their sakes. They knelt at his feet, weeping and -entreating him-- - - And wold have kist his feet ther as he stood, - Till atte laste aslaked was his mood; - For pite renneth sone in gentil herte, runneth - And though he first for ire quok and sterte, shook - He hath considerd shortly in a clause - The trespas of hem bothe, and eek the cause: - And although that his ire hire gylt accusede, their - Yet in his resoun he hem bothe excusede. them - - - And would have kissed his feet there as he stood, - Until at last appeasëd was his mood, - For pity springeth soon in gentle heart. - And though he first for rage did quake and start, - He hath considered briefly in the pause - The greatness of their crime, and, too, its cause; - And while his passion had their guilt accused, - Yet now his calmer reason both excused. - -Everybody had sympathy for those who were in love;[96] and Theseus' heart -'had compassion of women, for they wept ever in on' (continually). - -So the kindly duke softened, and said to all the crowd good-humouredly, -"What a mighty and great lord is the god of love!" - - Lo, her this Arcite and this Palamoun, here - That quytely weren out of my prisoun, freely (quit) - And might have lyved in Thebes ryally, royally - And witen I am here mortal enemy, know, their - And that here deth lith in my might also, their, lieth - And yet hath love, maugré here eyghen tuo, - I-brought hem hider bothe for to dye. - Now loketh, is nat that an heih folye? look, high - Who may not ben a fole, if that he love? be - Byholde for Goddes sake that sitteth above, - Se how they blede! be they nought wel arrayed! - Thus hath here lord, the god of love, hem payed them - Here wages and here fees for here servise. their - And yet they wenen for to ben ful wise, think - That serven love, for ought that may bifalle. serve - But this is yette the beste game of alle, - That sche, for whom they have this jolitee, fun - Can hem therfore as moche thank as me. can them, much - Sche woot no more of al this hoote fare, knows - By God, than wot a cuckow or an hare. knows - But al moot ben assayed, hoot or colde; must be tried - A man moot ben a fool other yong or olde; must be, either - I woot it by myself ful yore agon: - For in my tyme a servant was I on. one - - - "Here are this Arcite and this Palamon, - Safe out of prison both, who might have gone - And dwelt in Thebes city royally, - Knowing I am their mortal enemy, - And that their death within my power lies: - Yet hath blind Love, in spite of both their eyes, - Led them both hither only to be slain! - Behold the height of foolishness most plain! - Who is so great a fool as one in love? - For mercy's sake--by all the gods above, - See how they bleed! a pretty pair are they! - Thus their liege lord, the god of love, doth pay - Their wages, and their fees for service done; - And yet each thinks himself a wise man's son - Who serveth Love, whatever may befall. - But this is still the greatest joke of all, - That she, the cause of this rare jollity, - Owes them about as many thanks as I! - She knew no more of all this hot to-do, - By Mars! than doth a hare or a cuckoo! - But one must have one's fling, be't hot or cold; - A man will play the fool either young or old. - I know it by myself--for long ago - In my young days I bowed to Cupid's bow." - -This is as if he should say, "These two foolish boys have got nothing from -their liege lord, the god of love, but a very narrow escape with their -heads. And Emelye herself knew no more of all this hot business than a -cuckoo! But I, too, was young once, and in love, and so I won't be hard -upon them!" "I will pardon you," he added, "for the queen's sake and -Emelye's, but you must swear to me never to come and make war on me at any -time, but be ever my friends in all that you may for the future." - -And they were very thankful and promised as he commanded. - -Then Theseus spoke again, in a kind, half laughing way:-- - - To speke of real lynage and riches, speak, royal - Though that sche were a quene or a prynces, princess - Ilk of yow bothe is worthy douteles each - To wedden, when time is, but natheles marry, - nevertheless - I speke as for my suster Emelye, - For whom ye have this stryf and jelousye, - Ye woot youreself, sche may not wedde two know - At oones, though ye faughten ever mo; once, fought - That oon of yow, or be him loth or leef, unwilling or - willing - He mot go pypen in an ivy leef;[97] must - This is to say, sche may nought now have bothe, - Al be ye never so jelous, ne so wrothe. angry - - - "And as for wealth and rank, and royal birth, - Although she were the noblest upon earth, - Each of you both deserves to wed your flame - Being of equal worth; but all the same - It must be said, my sister Emelye - (For whom ye have this strife and jealousy), - You see yourselves full well that she can never - Wed two at once although ye fought for ever! - But one of you, whether he likes or no, - Must then go whistle, and endure his wo. - That is to say, she cannot have you both, - Though you be never so jealous or so wroth." - -With that he made them this offer--that Palamon and Arcite should each -bring in a year's time (50 weeks) a hundred knights, armed for the -lists,[98] and ready to do battle for Emelye; and whichever knight won, -Palamon and his host or Arcite and his host, should have her for his wife. - -Who looks happy now but Palamon? and who springs up with joy but Arcite! -Every one was so delighted with the kindness of Theseus that they all went -down on their knees to thank him--but of course Palamon and Arcite went on -their knees most. - -Now, would you like to know all the preparations Theseus made for this -great tournament? - -First, the theatre for the lists had to be built, where the tournament was -to take place. This was built round in the form of a compass, with -hundreds of seats rising up on all sides one behind another, so that -everybody could see the fight, and no one was in anybody's way. The walls -were a mile round, and all of stone, with a ditch running along the -outside. At the east and at the west stood two gates of white marble, and -there was not a carver, or painter, or craftsman of any kind that Theseus -did not employ to decorate the theatre. So that there never was such a -splendid place built in all the earth before or since. - -Then he made three temples: one over the east gate for Venus, goddess of -love; one over the west gate for Mars, who is god of war; and towards the -north, he built a temple all of alabaster and red coral; and that was for -Diana. All these beautiful things cost more money than would fill a big -carriage. - -Now I will tell you what the temples were like inside. - -First, in the Temple of Venus were wonderful paintings of feasts, dancing, -and playing of music, and beautiful gardens, and mountains, and people -walking about with the ladies they liked. All these were painted on the -walls in rich colour. - -There was a statue of Venus besides, floating on a sea of glass, and the -glass was made like waves that came over her. She had a citole in her -hand, which is an instrument for playing music on; and over her head doves -were flying. Little Cupid was also there, with his wings, and his bow and -arrows, and his eyes blinded, as he is generally made. - -Then, in the Temple of Mars, who is the god of war, there were all sorts -of dangers and misfortunes painted. Battles, and smoke, and forests all -burning with flames, and men run over by carts, and sinking ships, and -many other awful sights. Then a smith forging iron--swords and knives for -war. - -The statue of Mars was standing on a car, armed and looking as grim as -possible: there was a hungry wolf beside him. - -As for the Temple of Diana, that was very different from Venus's. Venus -wishes everybody to marry the one they love. Diana does not want any one -to marry at all, but to hunt all day in the fields. So the pictures in -Diana's Temple were all about hunting, and the merry life in the forest. - -Her statue showed her riding on a stag, with dogs running round about, and -underneath her feet was the moon. She was dressed in the brightest green, -and she had a bow and arrows in her hand. - -Now you know all about the splendid theatre and the three temples. - -At last the day of the great tournament approached! - -Palamon and Arcite came to Athens as they had promised, each bringing with -him a hundred knights, well armed; and never before, since the world -began, was seen a sight so magnificent. Everybody who could bear arms was -only too anxious to be among the two hundred knights--and proud indeed -were those who were chosen! for you know, that if to-morrow there should -be a like famous occasion, every man in England or anywhere else, who had -a fair lady-love, would try to be there. - -All the knights that flocked to the tournament wore shining armour -according to their fancy. Some wore a coat of mail, which is chain-armour, -and a breast-plate, and a gipon: others wore plate-armour, made of broad -sheets of steel; some carried shields, some round targets. Again, some -took most care of their legs, and carried an axe; others bore maces of -steel. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - -It was on a Sunday, about nine o'clock in the morning, when all the lords -and knights came into Athens. - -With Palamon came the great Licurgus, King of Thrace; with Arcite came the -mighty King of India, Emetrius: and I must give you the exact account of -how these two kings looked, which is most minute. I should not wonder if -these were the likenesses of Palamon and Arcite themselves.[99] - -First, then, comes-- - - Ligurge himself, the grete kyng of Trace; - Blak was his berd, and manly was his face. - The cercles of his eyen in his heed eyes - They gloweden bytwixe yolw and reed, between - And lik a griffoun loked he aboute, - With kempe heres[100] on his browes stowte; stout - His lymes grete, his brawnes hard and stronge, limbs, muscles - His schuldres brood, his armes rounde and longe. shoulders - And as the gyse was in his contre, guise - Ful heye upon a chare of gold stood he, high, car - With foure white boles in a trays. bulls, the traces - In stede of cote armour on his harnays,[101] - With nales yolwe, and bright as eny gold, - He had a bere skyn, cole-blak for-old. very old - His lange heer y-kempt byhynd his bak, long hair combed - As eny raven fether it schon for blak. shone - A wrethe of gold arm-gret, and huge of wighte, - Upon his heed, set ful of stoones brighte, - Of fyne rubies and of fyn dyamauntz. diamonds - Aboute his chare ther wenten white alauntz,[102] - Twenty and mo, as grete as eny stere, steer (bullock) - To hunt at the lyoun or at the bere, - And folwed him, with mosel fast i-bounde, muzzle - Colerd with golde, and torettz[103] fyled rounde. spikes, filled - - - Licurge himself, the mighty king of Thrace; - Black was his beard, and manly was his face, - The circles of his eyes within his head - Glow'd of a hue part yellow and part red, - And like a griffon lookëd he about, - With hair down-combed upon his brows so stout; - His limbs were great, his muscles hard and strong, - His shoulders broad, his arms were round and long. - According to the fashion of his land, - Full high upon a car of gold stood he, - And to the car four bulls were link'd, milk-white. - 'Stead of coat-armour on his harness bright, - With yellow nails and bright as any gold, - A bear's skin hung, coal-black, and very old. - His flowing hair was comb'd behind his back, - As any raven's wing it shone for black. - A wreath of gold, arm-thick, of monstrous weight, - Crusted with gems, upon his head was set, - Full of fine rubies and clear diamonds. - About his car there leapëd huge white hounds, - Twenty and more, as big as any steer, - To chase the lion or to hunt the bear, - And follow'd him, with muzzles firmly bound, - Collar'd in gold, with golden spikes around. - -The other portrait has a less barbaric splendour about it. - - The gret Emetreus, the kyng of Ynde, India - Uppon a steede bay, trapped in steel, - Covered with cloth of gold dyapred wel, diapered like - Cam rydyng lyk the god of armes, Mars. - His coote armour was of a cloth of Tars,[104] - Cowched of perlys whyte, round and grete. overlaid - His sadil was of brend gold new i-bete; burnished - A mantelet[105] upon his schuldre hangyng mantle - Bret-ful of rubies reed, as fir sparclyng. cram-full, fire - His crispe her lik rynges was i-ronne, run - And that was yalwe, and gliteryng as the sonne. yellow-brown - His nose was heigh, his eyen bright cytryn, - His lippes rounde, his colour was sangwyn, - A fewe freknes in his face y-spreynd, sprinkled - Betwixe yolwe and somdel blak y-meynd, somewhat, mixed - And as a lyoun he his lokyng caste. looking - Of fyve and twenty yeer his age I caste. suppose - His berd was wel bygonne for to sprynge; - His voys was as a trumpe thunderynge. - Upon his heed he wered of laurer grene laurel - A garlond freische and lusty for to sene. - Upon his hond he bar for his deduyt[106] hand, delight - An egle tame, as eny lylie whyt. eagle, any - - - The great Emetrius, the Indian King, - Upon a bay steed trapp'd in shining steel, - Covered with cloth of gold from head to heel, - Came riding like the god of armies, Mars; - His coat-armour was made of cloth of Tars, - O'erlaid with pearls all white and round and great: - His saddle was of smooth gold, newly beat. - A mantlet on his shoulder as he came, - Shone, cramm'd with rubies sparkling like red flame, - And his crisp hair in shining rings did run, - Yellow it was, and glittering as the sun. - His nose was high, his eyes were bright citrine, - His lips were round, his colour was sanguine, - With a few freckles scattered here and there, - 'Twixt black and yellow mingling they were, - And lion-like his glance went to and fro. - His age was five and twenty years, I trow. - A downy beard had just begun to spring, - His voice was like a trumpet thundering. - Upon his head he wore a garland green, - Of laurel, fresh, and pleasant to be seen. - Upon his wrist he bore for his delight - An eagle, tame, and as a lily white. - -There was a great festival, and the dancing, and minstrelsy, and feasting, -and rich array of Theseus' palace were most wondrous to behold. I should -never have time to tell you - - What ladies fayrest ben, or best daunsynge, be - Or which of hem can carole[107] best and singe, sing - Ne who most felyngly speketh of love; - What haukes sitten on the perche above, sit - What houndes liggen on the floor adoun. lie - - - What ladies danced the best, or fairest were, - Or which of them best sung or carol'd there; - Nor who did speak most feelingly of love, - What hawks were sitting on the perch above, - What hounds lay crouching on the floor adown. - -Then there were the temples to visit, to ask grace and favour from the -gods. Palamon went to the Temple of Venus, the goddess of love, and prayed -her to help him to gain his lady. Venus promised him success. - -Arcite thought it more prudent to go to the god of war, Mars; so he -sacrificed in his temple, and prayed for victory in the lists. Mars -promised him the victory. - -But Emelye did not wish to marry either of her lovers. She went to the -temple of Diana early in the morning, and asked the goddess to help her -_not_ to get married! She preferred her free life, walking in the woods -and hunting. She made two fires on Diana's altar: but Diana would not -listen to her, and both the fires went out suddenly, with a whistling -noise, and Emelye was so frightened that she began to cry. Then Diana told -her she was destined to marry one of these poor knights who had suffered -so much for her, and so she must make up her mind to it. - -Emelye then departed: but Mars and Venus had a great dispute, because, as -you know, they had promised success to each of the two knights, and -Emelye could not marry both. Now, you shall see how each of them managed -to gain a victory. - -All Monday was spent in jousting and dancing, and early on Tuesday began -the great tourney. - -Such a stamping of horses and chinking of harness![108] Such lines and -crowds of horsemen! There you might see armour so rare and so rich, -wrought with goldsmith's work, and embroidery, and steel! Helmets and -hauberks and trappings--squires nailing on the spearheads, and buckling -helmets--rubbing up the shields, and lacing the plates with thongs of -leather. Nobody was idle. - - The fomy stedes on the golden bridel - Gnawyng, and faste the armurers also - With fyle and hamer prikyng to and fro; - Yemen on foote, and communes many oon commons many a - one - With schorte staves, thikke as they may goon. go - - - The foamy steeds upon the golden bridle - Gnawing, and fast the armourers also - With file and hammer pricking to and fro; - Yeomen on foot, and flocking thro' the land - Commons with short staves, thick as they can stand. - -Pipes, trumpets, drums, and clarions were heard, that serve to drown the -noise of battle with music--little groups of people gathered about the -palace, here three--there ten--arguing the merits of the two Theban -knights. Some said one thing, some another. Some backed the knight with -the black beard, others the bald one, others the knight with close hair. -Some said, "_He_ looks grim, and will fight!" and "_He_ hath an axe that -weighs twenty pound!" - -Duke Theseus sits at a window, like a god on his throne. The masses of -people are pressing towards him to see him, and to salute him humbly, and -to hear his commands, and his decree! - -A herald on a tall scaffold shouts out "_Ho!_" till all the noise of the -people is hushed, and when all is quiet, he tells them the duke's will:-- - -"My lord hath of his wisdom considered that it were destruction to gentle -blood to fight in this tourney, as in mortal battle. Therefore, to save -life, he now changes his first purpose. - -"No arrows, pole-axe, or short knife shall be brought into the lists, no -short sword, either in the hand or worn at the side. No man shall ride -more than one course with a sharp spear. Whoso comes to harm shall be -taken, and not slain, but brought to the stake, there to abide according -to order. And should a chieftain on either side be taken, or slay his -fellow, no longer shall the tourney last. God speed you, go forth, and lay -on fast! Fight your fill with mace and longsword!"[109] - -The shouts of all the people rang right up to the sky, "God save such a -good lord, who will have no bloodshed!" - -Up go the trumpets and the music, and through the broad city, all hung -with cloth of gold, the crowds ride to the lists. The noble duke rode -first, and the Theban knights on either side, afterwards came the queen -and fair Emelye, and then all the company followed according to their -rank. - -When they came to the lists, everybody pressed forward to the seats. -Arcite goes in at the west gate by Mars' temple, with a red banner, and -all his hundred knights. At the same moment Palamon enters the east gate -by Venus' temple, with his white banner and brave host. Never was there -such a sight. The two companies were so evenly matched there was no -choosing between them. Then they ranged themselves in two ranks; the names -were read out, that there might be no cheating in the numbers; the gates -were shut, and loud was the cry, "Do now your devoir, young knights -proud!" - -The heralds have ceased to ride up and down. The trumpets ring out--in go -the spears steadily to the rests--the sharp spur is in the horse's side. -There you may see who can joust and who can ride--there the shafts of the -spears shiver on the thick shields--he feels the thrust right through the -body. Up spring the lances twenty foot high, out fly the swords like -silver--helmets are crushed and shivered--out bursts the blood in stern, -red streams! See, the strong horses stumble--down go all--a man rolls -under foot like a ball. See, he fences at his foe with a truncheon, and -hustles him while his horse is down. He is hurt through the body, and is -dragged off to the stake--and there he must stay. Another is led off to -that other side. All the humane orders of Theseus are forgotten. - -From time to time Theseus stops the fray to give time for refreshment and -drink, should the combatants need it. - -Often have these two Thebans fought before now; each has often unhorsed -the other. But in spite of Theseus' commands, never was tiger bereft of -its young so cruel in the hunt, as Arcite in his jealousy was on Palamon. -Never was hunted lion, mad with hunger, so eager for blood as Palamon for -Arcite's life. See, they are both bleeding. - -As the day went by, many in the field were carried away by excitement. The -strong King Emetrius flew at Palamon as he fought with Arcite, and ran his -sword into him. Then there was a frightful uproar. Emetrius could not -govern himself, and was dragged off to the stake by the force of twenty -men, and while trying to rescue Palamon, the great King Licurge was borne -down; and King Emetrius, despite his strength, was flung out of his saddle -a sword's length, so violently Palamon hit at him; but he was carried to -the stake for all that, and this tumult put an end to the tourney, -according to the rule Theseus had made. - -How bitterly wretched was Palamon, now that he could not ride any more at -his foe! Only by an unfair attack had he lost ground. Theseus, seeing them -all fighting together wildly, cried out "_Ho!_" and stopped the tourney. -Then he said, "I will be a true judge, and impartial. Arcite of Thebes -shall have Emelye, who, by good luck, has fairly won her!" - -Shouts of delight answered Theseus, till it seemed as if the theatre would -fall with the noise. - -It is said that Venus was so disappointed at Palamon, her knight, losing, -that she wept, and went for help to her father, the god Saturn. Saturn -said to her, "Daughter, hold thy peace; Mars has had his way, but you -shall yet have yours!" - -Now you shall see what happened. - -This fierce Arcite, hearing the duke's decision, and the cries and yells -of the heralds and all the people, raised his visor and spurred his horse -along the great place and looked up at Emelye. And Emelye looked down at -him kindly (for women always follow the favour of fortune), and smiled. - -It was in this sweet moment, when he was off his guard, that something -startled his tired and excited horse, and it leapt aside and foundered as -it leapt, and before Arcite could save himself, he was flung down, and his -breast-bone smashed against the saddle-bow--so that he lay as dead, his -face black with the sudden rush of blood. - -Poor Arcite! to lose all, just in the moment of supreme joy and victory! - -He was carried out of the lists, broken-hearted, to Theseus' palace, where -his harness was cut off him, and he was laid in a beautiful bed. He was -still conscious, and always asking piteously for Emelye. - -As for Duke Theseus, he came back to the town of Athens in great state and -cheer. Were it not for this unlucky accident at the end, there had not -been a single mishap, and as the leeches said Arcite would soon be well -again, _that_ was no such great disaster. None had been actually killed, -though many had been grievously wounded: which was very gratifying. For -all the broken arms could be mended, and the bruises and cuts healed with -salves and herbs and charms. - -There had even been no discomfiture, for falls did not count as shame, nor -was it any disgrace to be dragged to a stake with kicks and hootings, and -held there hand and foot all alone, whilst one's horse was driven out by -the sticks of the grooms. That was no disgrace, for it was not cowardice; -and such things _must_ happen at a tourney. And so all the people made -mirth. - -The duke gave beautiful gifts to all the foreign knights, and there were -ever so many more shows and feasts for the next three days, and the two -mighty kings had the greatest honour paid them, till all men had gone home -to their houses. - -So there was an end of the great battle. - -But Arcite did not get well so soon as they thought he would. His wound -swelled up, and the sore increased at his heart more and more. He was so -injured that the balms and the salves gave him no ease, and nature could -not do her part. And when nature cannot work, farewell physic! there is no -more to be done but carry the man to the churchyard. - -In short, Arcite was evidently dying, and he sent for Emelye, who held -herself his wife, and for Palamon, his cousin, and they both came to his -bedside. - -Then he told Emelye all the sorrow that was in his heart, at losing her -whom he had loved so dearly; and how he still loved her, and wanted her to -pray for him when he was dead. - - Allas, the woo! allas, the peynes stronge pains - That I for you have suffred, and so longe! suffered - Allas, the deth! allas, myn Emelye! death - Allas, departyng of our compainye! separating - Allas, myn hertes queen! allas, my wyf! - Myn hertes lady, endere of my lyf! - What is this world? what asken men to have? ask - Now with his love, now in his colde grave - Allone, withouten eny compainye! any - Farwel, my swete foo! myn Emelye![110] foe - And softe tak me in youre armes tweye, two - For love of God, and herkneth what I seye. hearken - - - "Alas, the woe! alas, the trials strong - That I for you have borne--and, ah, so long! - Alas, to die! alas, mine Emelye! - Alas, that we so soon part company! - Alas, my heart's one queen! alas, my wife! - Ah, my heart's lady, ender of my life! - What is life worth? what do men yearn to have? - Now with his darling--now in his cold grave, - Alone, alone, and with no company! - Farewell, my sweet foe--farewell, Emelye, - And softly take me in your arms to-day - For love of God, and listen what I say." - -Then Arcite pointed to Palamon, and said-- - - I have heer with my cosyn Palamon - Had stryf and rancour many a day agon - For love of yow, and for my jelousie. - - * * * * * - - So Jupiter have of my soule part, - As in this world right now ne knowe I non - So worthy to be loved as Palamon, - That serveth you, and wol don al his lyf. - And if that evere ye schul ben a wyf, shall - Foryet not Palamon, the gentil man. forget - - And with that word his speche faille gan, began to fail - For fro his feete up to his brest was come - The cold of deth, that hadde him overnome.[111] - And yet moreover in his armes two already - The vital strengthe is lost, and al ago. gone - Only the intellect, withouten more, without - That dwellede in his herte sik and sore, - Gan fayllen, when the herte felte deth; began to fail - Dusked his eyen two, and failled his breth. darkened, failed - But on his lady yit caste he his eye; - His laste word was--_Mercy, Emelye_. - - - "I have here with my cousin Palamon - Had strife and hatred days and years agone - For love of you, and for my jealousy. - - * * * * * - - So Jupiter have of my soul a part, - As in the whole wide world now know I none - So worthy to be loved as Palamon, - Who served you well, and will do all his life. - Therefore, if ever you shall be a wife, - Forget not Palamon, that noble man." - - And with that word his speech to fail began, - For from his feet up to his breast was come - The cold of death, that hath him overcome. - And now moreover, in his arms at last - The vital strength is lost, and all is past. - Only the intellect, all clear before, - That lingered in his heart so sick and sore, - Began to falter when the heart felt death, - Then his two eyes grew dark, and faint his breath, - But on his lady yet cast he his eye; - And his last word was--"_Mercy, Emelye_." - -He was dead. - -Emelye was carried away from Arcite, fainting; and the sorrow she felt is -more than I can tell. Day and night she wept, for she had learned to love -Arcite as much as if he had been already her husband, so that she was nigh -to dying. - -All the city mourned for him, young and old. Theseus, and Palamon, and -everybody was filled with grief. Never had there been such sorrow. - -Theseus had a splendid bier made, for Arcite to be burned according to the -custom, with the greatest honours. Huge oak trees were cut down on purpose -to burn on his pile. Arcite's body was covered with cloth of gold, with -white gloves on his hands, his sword by his side, and a wreath of laurel -on his head. His face was uncovered, so that all the people might see him, -when he was carried forth from the great hall of the palace. - -Theseus ordered that Arcite should be burned in that very grove where -Palamon and Arcite had first fought for love of Emelye, on that sweet May -morning a year ago. So the funeral pile was raised in that grove. - -Three beautiful white horses, covered with glittering steel harness and -the arms of Arcite, bore all his armour and weapons before him to the -spot. - -The whole city was hung with black, and the noblest Greeks in the land -carried the bier. Duke Theseus, and his old father Egeus, and Palamon, -walked beside it, carrying in their hands golden cups, full of milk and -wine and blood, to throw upon the pile. Then came Emelye, weeping, with -fire in her hand, as the custom was, wherewith to set light to the pile. - -With great care and ceremony the wood and straw were built up around the -body, so high that they seemed to reach to the sky, and cloth of gold and -garlands of flowers were hung all round it. - -Poor Emelye fainted when she set fire to the pile, in the course of the -funeral service, for her grief was more than she could bear. As soon as -the fire burned fast, perfumes and jewels were flung in, and Arcite's -shield, spear, and vestments, and the golden cups. Then all the Greeks -rode round the fire to the left, three times shouting, and three times -rattling their spears; and three times the women cried aloud. - -And when all was over, Emelye was led home; and there were curious -ceremonies performed, called the lykewake, at nightfall. - - * * * * * - -Long afterwards, Theseus sent for Palamon. The mourning for Arcite was -over in the city, but Palamon came, still wearing his black clothes, quite -sorrowful. - -Then Theseus brought Emelye to Palamon, and reminded them both of Arcite's -dying words. He took Emelye's hand and placed it in the hand of Palamon. -Then Palamon and Emelye were married, and they lived happy ever after. - - For now is Palamon in alle wele, welfare - Lyvynge in blisse, in richesse, and in hele; health - And Emelye him loveth so tendrely, - And he hire serveth al so gentilly, nobly - That nevere was ther no word hem bitweene there, between - Of jelousye, or any other teene. affliction - - Thus endeth Palamon and Emelye, - And God save al this fayre compainye. fair - - - For now this Palamon hath all the wealth, - Living in bliss, in riches, and in health; - And Emelye loveth him so tenderly, - And he doth cherish her so faithfully, - That all their days no thought they had again - Of jealousy, nor any other pain. - - Thus endeth Palamon and Emelye, - And God save all this kindly company! - - -Notes by the Way. - -The outline of the foregoing Tale was borrowed by Chaucer from Boccaccio's -'Theseida:' but the treatment and conception of character are wholly his -own. - -It is a common thing to say of the Knight's Tale that with all its merits -the two principal actors, Arcite and Palamon, are very much alike, and -constantly may be mistaken for each other. It seems to me that to say such -a thing is a proof of not having read the tale, for the characters of the -two men are almost diametrically opposed, and never does one act or speak -as the other would do. - -Notice, therefore, the striking contrast all through the story between the -characters. From the first, Arcite in the prison is seen to be cooler and -more matter-of-fact than Palamon, whose violent nature suffers earliest -from imprisonment, mentally, perhaps morally; and whom we find pacing -restlessly about, and ceaselessly bemoaning his fate, while Arcite is -probably sitting still in philosophic resignation. - -Palamon is clearly a man of violent, uncontrolled passions--reckless, even -rash, and frantically jealous. Arcite's is by far the stronger -mind--wise, clever, cool, but quite as brave and fervent as his friend. -Every incident brings out their character in strong relief. To Palamon it -is given to see Emelye first. He mistakes her for Venus, and prays to her -as such--his mind being probably slightly disordered by the privations of -mediæval prison life, as a mind so excitable would soon become. Arcite -recognizes her instantly as a woman, and claims her calmly. Palamon 'flies -out,' reproaches him bitterly, violently, with the term most abhorrent to -the chivalrous spirit of the time--'false.' Arcite answers with passion, -but he is matter-of-fact in the midst of it, reminding his friend how -little consequence it is to either of them, for both are perpetual -prisoners; and he can even wind up with a touch of humour, quoting the two -fighting dogs and the kite. - -On his release from prison, Arcite follows out successfully a most -difficult _rôle_, concealing his identity in the midst of Theseus' court, -and in the agitating presence of his lady, at the risk of his life--_for -years_: a stratagem requiring constant _sang-froid_ and self-control, -which would have been as impossible to Palamon, as mistaking a beautiful -woman for a divine vision would have been to Arcite. He does not forget -Palamon during this time, though powerless to help him. He is unselfish -enough to pray Juno for him, in his soliloquy in the wood. - -At the meeting of the rivals in the wood, Palamon, mastered at once by -rage, bids Arcite fight with him, that instant, regardless of his -(Palamon's) being unarmed: he fears nothing, he only wants to fight. -Arcite, also furious, can nevertheless see the common-sense side of the -affair, and the need for fair play and proper accoutrements; and -enumerates very sensibly the arms and other necessaries he will bring -Palamon, including (so matter-of-fact is he) _food and bedding for the -night_. - -When the combatants are discovered in their illegal and unwitnessed fight, -Palamon does not fear death. He is only anxious that, whether he be dead -or alive, Arcite shall not have Emelye; and reiterates his entreaty that -Arcite may be slain too--before or after, he doesn't care which, as long -as he is slain. - -Palamon's intense jealousy, which could face death cheerfully, but not the -yielding up of his beloved to another man, and his anxiety that Arcite -should not survive him, are of course less ignoble than they seem if -viewed in the light of the times. It was this same jealousy which prompted -him to betray Arcite as soon as he got the chance--forgetting that Arcite -had not betrayed _him_, the day before, when he was in his power. But -Chaucer himself once or twice refers to his mind being unhinged--'wood for -love'--which claims our forbearance. - -Again, the _appearance_ of Licurge (taken as Palamon's portrait) is very -characteristic. His eye is fierce, his get-up is mighty, barbaric, -bizarre; but Emetrius (Arcite) appears in a much more usual way. Licurge -mounts a chariot drawn by bulls--Emetrius rides on horseback, like an -ordinary knight. Licurge is enveloped in a bear's hide--Emetrius is -properly caparisoned. - -It is also noteworthy that Palamon entreats _Venus_ for success, for he -can think of nothing but his love: Arcite thinks it more prudent to -address Mars, since he has got to win Emelye by fight--he has _considered_ -the question, you see; and it is therefore (I think) that the preference -is given to Palamon in marrying Emelye, because society so exalted the -passion of love in those days, while Arcite is made to suffer for his very -prudence, which _might_ argue a less absorbing passion. - -It was a master-thought to make Arcite die by an accident, so that neither -of the rivals vanquished the other, and Palamon escapes the possible -reproach of winning his happiness by slaying his friend. - -The sympathy, however, remains with Arcite. His character is beautifully -developed. It is not inconsistent with his power of self-control and brave -heart, noble throughout, that he is able to make such a sacrifice on his -death-bed as to give Emelye to Palamon. It is a sign of forgiveness of -Palamon, who, at the point of death, showed no such generosity; and the -greatness of the sacrifice must be estimated by remembering the mediæval -view of love and love-matters. - -I do not think that Palamon could have done that, any more than he could -have concealed his identity in Theseus' court.[112] - - - - -The Friar's Tale. - - -This worthy Friar (Chaucer says), as he rode along with the rest of the -company, kept looking askance at the Summoner, whom he evidently regarded -as an enemy,[113] and though, as yet, for common civility's sake, he had -not said anything to him which could cause a regular quarrel, it was quite -plain there was little love lost between them. - -When his turn came to tell his story, he saw a chance of annoying the -Summoner, which he didn't mean to lose; and, disagreeable as the Summoner -was, it is not very surprising. - - But if it like to this companye, - I wil yow of a Sompnour telle a game; joke - Pardé, ye may wel knowe by the name, - That of a Sompnour may no good be sayd; - I pray that noon of yow be evel apayd. disappointed - - - "But if agreeable to the company, - I'll tell you of a Summoner such a game - Belike you may imagine from the name, - That of a Summoner can no good be said. - I pray that none of you be ill repaid!" - -The Summoner, who was inoffensive enough just then, whatever he might have -been at other times, was not very well pleased at having his trade spoken -of in such terms, and felt that it was all a hit at himself; and mine -host, to prevent further squabbling, breaks in with--"Now, Friar, it is -not very courteous to speak at a companion in that style; a man of your -calling ought to know better:-- - - In companye we wol have no debaat: - Telleth your tale, and let the Sompnour be. tell - Nay, quoth the Sompnour, let him saye to me - What so him list; whan it cometh to my lot - By God I schal him quyten every grot. requite, groat - I schal him telle which a gret honour great - Is to ben a fals flateryng lymytour! be, false - - - "In company we will have no debate, - Tell on your tale, and let the Summoner be." - "Nay," cried the Summoner, "let him say of me - What he may choose. When my turn comes, good lack! - All he has said I'll pay him fairly back! - I'll tell him what a pretty trade is his, - Beggar and flattering limitor that he is!" - -Mine host cries out, "Peace, no more of this!" and begs the Friar to go -on. - - * * * * * - -Once upon a time there was an archdeacon in my country who punished with -great severity all kinds of misdoings. - -He had a Summoner ready to his hand, who worked under this strict -archdeacon with equal severity. A slyer fellow was there none in England; -and most cunningly he watched the people in secret, so as to find out how -best to catch them tripping. - -I shall not spare this Summoner here, though he be mad as a hare with it -all; for Summoners have no jurisdiction over us Friars, you know, and -never will have, all the days of their lives. We are out of their power! - - ["So are other refuse of the people[114] besides Friars!" interrupted - the angry Summoner, when he heard that. - - "Peace, with bad luck to you!" cries mine host, also getting angry; - "and let the Friar tell his story. Now tell on, master, and let the - Summoner gale!"[115]] - -This false thief--this Summoner--used to find out, in all sorts of -underhand ways, what people did, right or wrong, by spying in secret, and -by keeping people to spy for him. And when he found out anybody doing -wrong, he would threaten to summon them before the court, and they used to -bribe him with money to let them off. If they were too poor to bribe him, -he would make the archdeacon punish them; but if they had enough money to -give him, he did not care how many bad things they did, and never told the -archdeacon. This was very unjust and wicked, as it encouraged people to do -wrong; and the Summoner grew quite rich in this evil way, for he kept all -the money himself, and did not give it to the archdeacon. He was, you see, -a thief as well as a spy; - - For in this world nys dogge for the bowe[116] - That can an hurt dere from an hol y-knowe, whole - - - No dog on earth that's trainëd to the bow - Can a hurt deer from an unhurt one know, - -better than this cunning man knew what everybody was about,-- - - And for that was the fruyt of al his rent, because - Therfore theron he set all his entent. thereon, purpose - And so bifel, that oones on a day befell, once - This Sompnour, ever wayting on his pray, - Rod forth to sompne a widew, an old ribibe,[117] - Feynyng a cause, for he wolde han a bribe. - And happede that he say bifore him ryde saw - A gay yeman under a forest syde. - A bowe he bar, and arwes bright and kene; - He had upon a courtepy of grene; short cloak - An hat upon his heed with frenges blake. head - Sir, quoth this Sompnour, heyl and wel overtake. overtaken - Welcome, quod he, and every good felawe. fellow - Whider ridestow under this grene schawe? ridest thou, wood - (Sayde this yiman) wiltow fer to-day? - This Sompnour him[118] answerd and sayde, Nay: - Here faste by, quod he, is myn entent purpose - To ryden, for to reysen up a rent raise - That longith to my lordes dueté. duty - - - And, since that was the source of all his pelf, - To winning gain he did devote himself. - And so it chanc'd that, once upon a day, - This Summoner, ever waiting for his prey, - Rode forth to summon a widow, a poor soul, - And feign'd a cause, that he might get a dole. - It happen'd that he saw before him ride - A yeoman gay, along the forest side. - A bow he bore, and arrows, bright and keen; - He had on a short upper cloak of green; - A black-fringed hat upon his head was set. - The Summoner cried out, "Hail, sir, and well met!" - "Welcome," quoth he, "and every one as good! - And whither ridest thou in this green wood? - (The yeoman said) and is it far you go?" - The Summoner made answer, and said, "No: - Close handy here my errand lies," quoth he, - "I ride to raise a rent that's owing me, - Belonging to my master's property." - -"Art thou a bailiff, then?" asks the yeoman. The Summoner was ashamed to -say what he really was, so he said, "Yes." - -"Good," said the stranger. "Thou art a bailiff and I am another. Let us be -friends. I am unknown in this country; but if you will come and see me in -my country, I have plenty of gold and silver in my chest, and I will share -it all with you." - -"Thank you," said the greedy Summoner; and they shook hands, and promised -to be staunch friends and sworn brothers till they died! And thus they -rode on together. - -The Summoner, who was always inquisitive and asking questions, was very -anxious to know where he could find this amiable new friend, who was so -free with his money. - - Brother, quoth he, wher now is your dwellyng, - Another day if that I schulde yow seeche? seek - - "Brother," quoth he, "your dwelling now, where is't, - If I some future day the place could reach?" - -Notice the cunning yeoman's answer:-- - - This yiman him answered in softe speche: - Brother, quod he, fer in the north[119] contre, - Wheras I hope somtyme I schal the se; where - Er we depart I schal the so wel wisse, separate, teach - That of myn hous ne schaltow never misse. shalt thou, miss - - - The yeoman answered him in softest speech: - "Brother," quoth he, "far in the north countree, - Whereat I hope sometime I shall thee see. - Before we part I shall direct thee so, - Thou canst not fail my dwelling-place to know." - -You will see later why he was so anxious to bring the Summoner to his own -dwelling. - - Now, brother, quod this Sompnour, I yow pray you - Teche me, whil that we ryden by the way, ride - Syn that ye ben a baily as am I, since, be - Som subtilte, as tel me faithfully subtilty - In myn office how I may moste[120] wynne. my - And spare not for consciens or for synne, refrain - But, as my brother, tel me how do ye? - - - "Now, brother," said the Summoner, "I pray, - Teach me while we are riding on our way, - Since you a bailiff are, as well as I, - Some subtle craft, and tell me faithfully - How in my office I most gold may win, - And hide not aught for conscience or for sin, - But as my brother, tell me how do ye?" - -The strange yeoman is delighted at these questions, and you will see that -in his answer he pretends to describe himself, but he is really describing -all the Summoner does! - - Now, by my trouthe, brothir myn, sayde he, - As I schal telle the a faithful tale. - My wages ben ful streyt and eek ful smale; narrow, small - My lord to me is hard and daungerous, severe - And myn office is ful laborous, laborious - And therfor by extorciouns[121] I lyve. - Forsoth I take al that men wil me yive, give - Algate by sleighte or by violence, always, cunning - Fro yer to yer I wynne my despence, - I can no better telle faithfully. - - Now, certes, quod this Sompnour, so fare I. - I spare not to take, God it woot, knows - But-if it be to hevy or to hoot.[122] unless - What I may gete in counseil prively, get - No more consciens of that have I; conscience - Nere myn extorcions I mighte not lyven, were it not for - Ne of such japes I wil not be schriven. games, shriven - Stomak ne conscience know I noon. - I schrew thes schrifte-fadres, everichoon. curse - Wel be we met, by God and by seint Jame! - But, leve brother, telle me thy name? - Quod this Sompnour. Right[123] in this menewhile - This yeman gan a litel for to smyle. began - Brothir, quod he, woltow that I the telle? wilt thou - I am a feend, my dwellyng is in helle, - And her I ryde about my purchasyng, here - To wite wher men wol yive me eny thing. know - My purchas is theffect of all my rent. the effect - Loke how thou ridest for the same entent - To wynne good, thou rekkist never how, - Right so fare I, for ryde I wolde now - Unto the worldes ende for a praye. prey - A, quod the Sompnour, _benedicite_, what say ye?[124] ah - - - "Now, by my troth, my brother dear," quoth he, - "I will be frank with you, and tell you all: - The wages that I get are very small, - My master's harsh to me, and stingy too, - And hard is all the work I have to do; - And therefore by extortion do I live. - Forsooth, I take what any one will give; - Either by cunning or by violence - From year to year I snatch my year's expense. - No better can I tell you honestly." - - "Now, truly," cried the Summoner, "so do I! - I never spare to take a thing, God wot, - Unless it be too heavy or too hot. - What I can grasp by counsel privily, - No scruples in that matter trouble me. - Without extortion I could ne'er subsist, - So in my pranks I ever will persist; - Stomach nor conscience truly I have none. - I hate all these shrift-fathers, every one! - Well met are we, our ways are just the same. - But, my dear fellow, tell me now your name?" - The Summoner entreated him. Meanwhile - That yeoman broke into a little smile. - "Brother," he answered, "wilt thou have me tell? - --I am a fiend, my dwelling is in hell, - And here I ride about my purchasing - To know what men will give me anything. - Such gains make up the whole of all my rent. - Look how thou journeyest for the same intent - To reap thy gains, thou carest never how! - Just so I do--for I will journey now - Unto the wide world's end to get my prey." - "Mercy!" the Summoner cried, "what is't ye say?" - -He is rather aghast at this awful confession, bad as he admits himself to -be. He had sincerely thought it was a real yeoman; and when he says to -him, with a strange and evil smile, "Shall I tell you?--_I am a fiend, my -dwelling is in hell_," the horrible candour strikes him dumb for a minute. -He rather wishes he wasn't his sworn brother. But he very soon gets over -this, thinking of the gold and silver, and begins to talk quite friendly. - - I wende ye were a yemen trewely: truly - Ye have a mannes schap as wel as I. shape - - - "I thought you were a yeoman, verily: - Ye have a human shape as well as I." - -"Have you then a distinct form in hell like what I see?" - -"No, certainly," says the fiend, "there we have none, but we take a form -when we will." - - Or ellis make yow seme that we ben schape It seem to you - Somtyme like a man, or like an ape; - Or lik an aungel can I ryde or go; - It is no wonder thing though it be so. - - - "Or else we make you think we have a shape, - Sometimes like to a man, or like an ape; - Or like an angel I can ride or go; - It is not wondrous that it should be so." - -"Why, a common conjurer can deceive you any day, and I have tenfold more -cunning than a conjurer!" - -"Why," said the Summoner, quite interested, "do you have several shapes, -and not only one?" - -"We borrow whatever shape is best to catch our prey," said the evil one. - -"What makes you take all that trouble?" says the Summoner. - - Ful many a cause, lieve sir Sompnour, dear - Sayde this feend. But al thing hath a tyme; - The day is schort, and it is passed prime,[125] - And yit ne wan I nothing in this day; won - I wol entent to winning, if I may, attend - And not entende our thinges to declare. - - - "Full many a cause, my good sir Summoner," - Replied the fiend. "But all things have a time; - The day is short, and it is now past prime, - Yet have I not won anything to-day; - I'll give my mind to winning, if I may, - And not our privy doings to declare." - -For you see the fiend was more intent upon his business than even the -Summoner. However, he goes on to say, that sometimes he is obliged to -work under the great God, without whose sufferance he could never have any -power at all. - - For somtyme we ben Goddis instrumentes God's - And menes to don his comaundementes, means - When that Him list, upon His creatures, He chooses - In divers acts and in divers figures. various - - - "Sometimes God uses us as instruments - And means, to work out His all-wise intents: - When on us this divine command He lays, - We serve in divers forms and divers ways." - -"But you needn't be in such a hurry," he says to the Summoner. "You'll -know more than you like perhaps before long." - - But oon thing warne I the, I wol not jape, one, jest - Thou wilt algates wite how we ben schape. always know - Thou schalt herafterward, my brother deere, - Com wher the nedith not of me to leere,[126] come, learn - For thou schalt by thin oughn experience own - Conne,[127] in a chayer, reden of this sentence be able, to - counsel, - meaning - Bet than Virgile[128] when he was on lyve, better, alive - Or Daunt also. Now let us ryde blyve, quickly - For I wol holde companye with the - Til it be so that thou forsake me. - - - "But of one thing I warn thee, not in play, - That thou shalt know what we are like, some day. - Thou shalt hereafter come, my brother dear, - Whither thou wilt not need of me to hear; - For thou shalt learned be--nay, specially wise - By self-experience--in these mysteries: - Wiser than Virgil ere from earth he past, - Or Dante either. Let us now ride fast, - For I will keep companionship with thee - Till thou desirest to depart from me." - -A pleasant prospect! However, the Summoner was quite content, so long as -the silver and gold were shared with him. He declares he will never -forsake his sworn brother, though he be a fiend, and promises to share all -his own goods with the evil one! adding-- - - Tak thou thi part, and that men wil the yyven, thee, give - And I schal myn, thus may we bothe lyven; mine, live - And if that eny of us have more than other, either - Let him be trewe, and part it with his brother. - I graunte, quod the devel, by my fay. - And with that word thay riden forth hir way. ride - - - "Take thou thy part, whatever men will give, - And I will do the same, so both shall live; - And if the one get more than doth the other, - Let him be true and share it with his brother." - "I grant it," said the devil, "by my fay." - With that, they rode together on their way. - -As they proceeded they saw right at the town's end a cart laden with hay. -The road was heavy with mud, so that the cart stuck. The carter smote his -horses, and cried like mad, "Hait! go on![129] The fiend take you--what a -labour I have with you. The fiend have it all, cart, horse, and hay!" - -The Summoner, hearing this, remembered he was to have half of all the evil -one's goods, and whispered to him, "Don't you hear what the carter says? -Take it all quick--he has given it you--hay, and cart, and the three -horses!" - -"Nay," said the evil one, "he does not _mean_ what he says. He is only in -a passion. Ask him yourself, or else wait and see what comes next." - -The carter whacked his horses, and they began to stoop and pull the cart -out, and then he said, "Hait! bless you--good Dobbins--well pulled, my own -grey boy! Now is my cart out of the mud." - -"There, brother, what did I tell you?" says the fiend. "Now, you see the -churl said one thing, but he thought another. Let us go on; I shall get -nothing here." - -With that they went a little way outside the town. The Summoner began to -whisper to his companion, "Here there lives an old beldame who would -almost as soon lose her head as give up a penny of her goods. But I mean -to have twelve pence[130] out of her, though she should go mad; or else -I'll haul her up before the court. And yet, all the same, I know no harm -of her. But if you want a lesson how to extort your gains in your country, -you may take example of me!" - -The Summoner goes and raps at the old widow's gate. "Come out, you old -crone. I dare say you are in mischief there!" he cried. - -"Who knocks?" said the old woman. "God save you, sir. What is your will?" - -"I've a bill of summons against you. On pain of cursing, see that you are -to-morrow before the archdeacon, to answer to the court." - -"God help me," says the poor old woman, in great distress. "I have been -ill a long time, and cannot walk so far, and to ride[131] would kill me, -my side pricks so. May I not ask for a libel,[132] and answer there by my -procurator whatever there is against me?" - -"Yes," says the Summoner, "pay me--let's see--twelve pence, and I will let -you off. I shall not get much profit out of that. My master gets it, and -not I. Make haste and give me twelve pence--I can't wait." - -"Twelve pence!" said the poor widow. "Now, heaven help me out of this. I -have not so much as twelve pence in the whole wide world. You know that I -am old and poor. Rather give me alms." - -"Nay, then," cries the hard-hearted Summoner, "I will not let you off, -even if you die of it." - -"Alas!" says she, "I am not guilty." - -"Pay me!" cried he, "or I will carry off your new pan besides, which you -owe me, for when you were summoned to the court before, I paid for your -punishment!" - -"You lie," cried the poor old woman. "I was never summoned before to that -court in all my life; and I have done no wrong. May the evil one catch you -for your wickedness, and carry you away, and my pan too!" - -And when the fiend heard her curse the Summoner on her knees, he came -forward and said, "Now, good mother, are you in earnest when you say -that?" - -"May the devil fetch him, pan and all, before he dies, if he doesn't -repent!" - -"Repent!" cries the wicked Summoner, "I don't mean to repent anything I -do, I can tell you. I wish I had everything you possess besides--even -every rag you have on!" - -"Now, brother," says the evil one, "don't be angry; for you and this pan -are mine by right. This very night you shall go with me to hell, and you -will soon know more about our mysteries than a master of divinity!" - - And with that word the foule fend him hente; caught - Body and soule, he with the devyl wente, - Wher as the Sompnours han her heritage; their - And God, that maked after His ymage made - Mankynde, save and gyde us alle and some, - And leene this Sompnour good man to bycome. grant - - - With that the foul fiend took him for his own, - Body and soul he's with the devil gone, - Whither these Summoners have their heritage - And God, who did create in His image - Mankind, protect and guide us all our days, - And lead this Summoner here to mend his ways. - -Lordings, I could have told you, if I had time, all the pains and -punishments which came to this wicked Summoner in hell. But let us all -pray to be kept from the tempter's power. The lion lies in wait always to -slay the innocent, if he can. Dispose your hearts ever to withstand the -evil fiend who longs to make you his slaves! He will not tempt you above -what you can bear, for Christ will be your champion and your knight.[133] -And pray that this Summoner with us, may repent of his misdeeds before the -devil carries him away. - - -Notes by the Way. - -Legends of the kind told by the Friar were very popular in the mediæval -times, believed in by some as they were laughed at by others. Mr. Wright -conjectures that this tale was translated from some old fabliau. The Friar -evidently counted on the unpopularity of this class of men, the Summoners, -when he held his fellow-traveller up to general ignominy in this way. It -seems a breach of civility and fair-play to modern minds, but the -Summoners were in reality hated universally for their extortion or for -their secret power among the people. As you have seen, the host begins by -calling for justice, but the popular feeling was but too clearly on the -Friar's side from the first, and mine host shares it. (_Vide_ notes, pp. -31, 57.) - -This Tale would appear by no means to discourage swearing; but mark the -distinction drawn between a hearty, deliberate malediction, and the rapid -unmeaning oath which sowed the common talk. The lesson was probably the -more forcible through the absence of any hypercritical censure of 'strong -language'--censure which would have been vain indeed, in an age when -common oaths were thought as much less of, as positive cursing was more -of, than in the present day. - -The rough moral deduced was admirably suited to the coarse and ignorant -minds of the lower orders. - - - - -The Clerk's Tale. - - - This Sompnour in his styrop up he stood, - Upon the Frere his herte was so wood mad - That lyk an aspen leef he quok for ire. quaked - Lordyngs, quod he, but oon thing I desire; - I yow biseke that of your curtesye, - Syn ye han herd this false Frere lye, - As suffrith me, I may my tale telle. pray suffer - This Frere bosteth that he knowith helle, - And God it wot, that is but litel wonder,[134] - Freres and feendes been but litel asonder.[135] - - Sir Clerk of Oxenford, our hoste sayde, Oxford - Ye ryde as stille and coy as doth a mayde[136] - Were newe spoused, syttyng at the bord;[137] - This day ne herde I of your mouth a word. - I trow ye study aboute som sophyme. sophism - But Salomon saith, everythyng hath tyme. - For Goddis sake as beth of better cheere, be - It is no tyme for to stodye hiere. study - - - Up in his stirrups did the Summoner start, - For with this Friar such rage was in his heart, - That like an aspen-leaf he shook for ire. - "Lordings," cried he, "but one thing I desire, - And I beseech you of your courtesy, - Since you have heard this falsest Friar lie, - Suffer me, pray, my story now to tell. - This Friar boasts of how he knoweth hell; - Heav'n knows, that if he does it is no wonder, - For fiends and Friars are not far asunder." - - "Sir Clerk of Oxford," then our landlord said - "You ride as shy and quiet as a maid - Newly espous'd, who sits beside the board; - All day we have not had from you a word. - I guess, some subtle lore you're studying. - But Solomon says there's time for everything. - Prithee, rouse up, and be of better cheer, - It is no time for your deep studies here. - -"Do not give us a sermon, or something so learned that we cannot -understand it. - - Spekith so playn at this tyme, we yow praye, - That we may understonde that ye saye. - - - "Speak to us very plainly, now, we pray, - That we may understand the whole you say." - -This worthy Clerk answered pleasantly, "Host, I am under your orders, so I -will obey you, and tell you a tale which I learned at Padua, of a worthy -clerk, who has been proved by his words and work. - - He is now deed and nayled in his chest, coffin - Now God yive his soule wel good rest! give - Fraunces Petrark,[138] the laureat poete, - Highte this clerk, whos rethorique swete was named - Enlumynd al Ytail of poetrie, Italy - As Linian[139] did of philosophie, - Or lawue, or other art particulere; law - But deth, that wol not suffre us duellen here, - But as it were a twyncling of an ye, eye - Hem bothe hath slayn, and alle schul we dye. - - - "Now he is dead, and nailéd in his chest, - I pray to God to give his spirit rest! - Francis Petrarch, the poet laureate, - This clerk was call'd, whose rhetoric sweet did late - Illume all Italy with poetry, - As Linian did with his philosophy, - And law, and other noble arts as well; - But death, that will not suffer us here to dwell, - But, as it were, a twinkling of an eye, - Hath slain them both, and we, too, all shall die." - - -PART I. - -To the west of Italy there is a territory called Saluces,[140] which once -belonged to a marquis very much beloved by all his people. They all obeyed -and respected him, both lords and commoners, and he was very happy. - -Besides, he was the noblest born of any one in Lombardy--handsome, and -strong, and young--courteous to all, and discreet enough, except in some -things where he was not quite perfect! and his name was Walter. - -The worst fault of him was the careless sort of life he led. He did -nothing but hunt, and hawk, and amuse himself, instead of attending to -more serious duties. This made his people very sorry, and they thought if -Walter had a wife he would get more steady, and not waste his time so -sadly. - -One day all his people went in a great crowd to see him; and the wisest -one among them said--"O noble marquis, your goodness gives us courage to -come to you and tell you what we want. Do not be angry, but deign to -listen to us, for we all love you. The only thing needed to make us quite -happy is for you to marry. We pray you, then, to let us find you a nice -wife, and we will choose the noblest and best in the land." - -Walter listened, and then answered--"My dear people, you know I am very -comfortable as I am, and enjoy my liberty: I don't want a wife. But if it -makes you any happier, I will try and get one as soon as I can. As for -choosing me one, pray don't take so much trouble. I would much rather do -that for myself. Only remember that when I am married, you must always -show the greatest honour and respect to whoever she may be. For since I -consent to give up my freedom to please you, you must not find fault with -any one whom I choose." - -All the people promised they would be quite content with any wife he -liked, for they were so much afraid he would not marry at all if they -didn't. - -Then, to make quite sure, they begged him to fix exactly the day when the -wedding should take place, and he did so, promising to get everything -ready, according to their request. And the people thanked him on their -knees and went away. - - -PART II. - -Now, near the marquis's palace, there was a village in which dwelt a poor -man--poorer than the poorest of his neighbours. His name was Janicula, and -he had a young daughter who was fair enough to see, called Griselda. - -But, in beauty of mind, Griselda was the fairest maiden under the sun. She -had been brought up very humbly, and more often drank water than wine, and -she worked so hard that she was never idle. - - But though this mayden tender were of age, - Yet in the brest of her virginité breast, girlhood - Ther was enclosed rype and sad corrage;[141] mature, serious - And in gret reverence and charité love - Hir olde pore fader fostered sche; - A fewe scheep spynnyng on the feld sche kepte, field - Sche nolde not ben ydel til sche slepte. would not be - - And when sche hom-ward com, sche wolde brynge came, bring - Wortis or other herbis tymes ofte, worts - The which sche schred and seth for her lyvynge, chop, boil, - living - And made hir bed ful hard, and nothing softe. - And ay sche kept hir fadres lif on lofte ever, supported - With every obeissance and diligence, - That child may do to fadres reverence. father's - - - But though this maiden was as yet so young, - Under her girlish innocence there lay - A brave and serious spirit, ever strong; - And with good heart she laboured day by day - To tend and help her father, poor and grey. - Some sheep while spinning in the fields she kept, - For never was she idle till she slept. - - And she would often, as she homeward sped, - Bring with her herbs and cresses gathered there, - Which for a meal she fain would seethe and shred. - Hard was her bed and frugal was her fare, - Keeping her father with untiring care, - And all obedience, and all diligence - That child can give to filial reverence. - -On this poor hard-working Griselda, the marquis Walter had often cast his -eyes when he happened to pass her while hunting. And when he looked at her -it was with no foolish thoughts, but with serious admiration for her -virtue. He had never seen any one so young who was so good, and he made up -his mind if ever he married anybody he would marry her. - -So, after the people's visit, according to his promise to them, Walter -began to prepare beautiful dresses and jewels, brooches and rings of -gold, and everything proper for a great lady. And the wedding-day arrived, -but no one had seen any bride, or could think where she was to come from! - -At last all the feast was ready, all the palace beautifully adorned, -upstairs and downstairs--hall and chambers. The noble guests arrived who -were bidden to the wedding--lords and ladies richly arrayed--and still -there was no bride! - -The marquis made them all follow him into the village, to the sound of -music. - -Now, Griselda, who knew nothing of all this, went that morning to fetch -water from the well; and she heard say that this was to be the marquis's -wedding-day. - -So she hastened home, and thought to herself she would get through her -work as fast as she could, and try to see something of the sight. - -"I will stand with the other girls at the door," she said to herself -innocently, "and I shall see the new marchioness, if she passes by this -way to the castle." - -Just as she crossed the door, the marquis came up, and called her. - -Griselda set down her water-cans beside the door in an ox's stall,[142] -and, dropping on her knees,[143] waited for the great lord to speak. - -The marquis said gravely, "Where is thy father, Griselda?" and Griselda -answered humbly, "He is all ready here," and hurried in to fetch him. - -Then the marquis took the poor man by the hand, saying, "Janicula, I shall -no longer hide the wish of my heart. If you will consent, I will take your -daughter for my wife before I leave this house. I know you love me, and -are my faithful liegeman. Tell me, then, whether you will have me for your -son-in-law." - -This sudden offer so astonished the poor man that he grew all red, and -abashed, and trembling. He could say nothing but--"My lord, it is not for -me to gainsay your lordship. Whatever my lord wishes." - - Yit wol I, quod this markys softely, yet - That in thy chambre, I and thou and sche - Have a collacioun, and wostow why? meeting, knowest - thou - For I wol aske if that it hir wille be - To be my wyf, and reule hir after me; according to - And al this schal be doon in thy presence, done - I wol nought speke out of thyn audience. hearing - - - "Yet," said the marquis, softly, "fain would I - That in thy chamber I and thou and she - Confer together--dost thou wonder why? - For I would ask her whether she will be - My wife--and rule herself to pleasure me; - And in thy presence all things shall be said: - Behind thy back no contract shall be made." - -And while the three were talking in the chamber all the people came into -the house without,[144] and wondered among themselves how carefully and -kindly she kept her father. But poor Griselda, who had never seen such a -sight before, looked quite pale. She was not used to such grand -visitors. - -[Illustration: GRISELDA'S MARRIAGE - - 'This is ynough, Grisilde myn, quod he.'] - -This is what the marquis said to her. - -"Griselda, it pleases your father and me that I should marry you, and I -suppose you will not be unwilling.[145] But first I must ask you, since it -is to be done in such a hurry, will you say yes now, or will you think it -over? Are you ready to obey me in all things when you are my wife, whether -I am kind to you or not? and never to say no when I say yes--either by -word or by frowns? Swear that, and I will swear to marry you." - -Wondering at all this, and trembling with fear, Griselda answered-- - -"My lord, I am quite unworthy of the great honour you offer me; but -whatever my lord wishes I will consent to. And I will swear never, so far -as I know, to disobey you--not even if you wish to kill me, though I don't -want to die." - -"That is enough, my Griselda," said Walter, and he went gravely out at the -door, and showed her to the people. "This is my wife, who stands here," he -said: "honour and love her, whoever loves me." - -Then, so that she might not enter his castle in her poor gown, he bade all -the gentlewomen robe her at once in beautiful clothes; and though these -smart ladies did not much like touching the old clothes she had on, still -they stript them all off her, and clad her all new and splendidly, from -head to foot. - -Then they combed and dressed her hair, which was quite loose and -disarranged, and with their delicate fingers they placed a crown on her -head, and covered her with jewels, great and small. They hardly knew her, -so beautiful she looked when she was thus richly attired. - -The marquis put a ring on her finger, which he had brought on purpose, and -set her on a snow-white horse; and she was conducted, with great -rejoicings, to the palace, where the day was spent in feasting and -merriment till the sun set.[146] - -In short, heaven so favoured the new marchioness, that in a little time -you would never have guessed she was of so humble birth; she might have -been brought up in an emperor's hall, and not in a hut with oxen. The -people who had known her from her childhood could hardly believe she was -Janicle's daughter, she was so changed for the better. - -Moreover, her virtue and gentle dignity made her beloved by everybody, so -that her fame was spread throughout all the country, and people even took -long journeys to come and look upon her. - -Walter had not a fault to find with her. She made him happy by her -excellence and her wifely homeliness, just as she made the people happy by -her kindness and cleverness in redressing their wrongs. - - -PART III. - -Griselda had a little girl at last, which was a great joy to them both, -and to all the people. But Walter had a great longing to put his wife to -the test--to see whether she was really as meek and patient and submissive -as she seemed. - -I know not why he wanted to do this, for he had often tried her in little -ways before, and had found her perfect; and for my part I think it is a -cruel deed to grieve and torment a wife who does not deserve it, for the -sake of needless proof. - -However, Walter did as follows. One night, while the baby was still very -young, he came to her, looking stern and troubled; she was all alone, and -he said, "Griselda, you have not forgotten the day when I took you out of -your poor home. Well, although you are very dear to me, to my people you -are not dear; they feel it a great shame to be the subjects of one who -came of such mean rank. And since thy daughter was born they have murmured -so greatly that I cannot disregard them, so I must do with the baby as the -people choose, if I want to live in peace with them all. Yet what I must -do is much against my will, and I will not do it without your consent; but -I pray you to show me now how patient you can be, even as you swore to be, -on our marriage day." - -When Griselda heard this she did not know that it was all untrue, and she -said calmly, "My lord, all shall be as you will. My child and I, we are -both yours, living or dying. Do as you choose. For my part, there is -nothing I fear to lose, but _you_." - -The marquis was overjoyed to hear that, but he concealed his pleasure, and -kept a very stern and sad face, and presently departed. - -He went to a man, to whom he gave certain directions how to act; then he -sent the man to Griselda. - -This man was a sergeant,[147] the trusted servant of the marquis, and he -stalked into Griselda's chamber. "Madam," he said, "you must forgive me if -I do what I am compelled to by my lord. This child I am ordered to take -away," and the man made as though he would kill it at once. - - Suspecious was the defame of this man, ill-fame - Suspect his face, suspect his word also, - Suspect the tyme in which he this bigan. - Allas! hir doughter, that she lovede so, - Sche wende he wold han slayen it right tho; believed, then - But natheles sche neyther weep ne sikede, nevertheless, - sighed - Conformyng hir to that the marquis likede. - - But atte laste speke sche bigan, to speak - And mekely sche to the sergeant preyde, - So as he was a worthy gentil man, - That she moste kisse hir child er that it deyde. might - And in hir barm[148] this litel child sche leyde, lap - With ful sad face, and gan the child to blesse, - And lullyd it, and after gan it kesse. began, kiss - - - Suspicious of repute was this stern man, - Suspicious in his look, and speech also, - So was the time when he the deed began. - Alas! her baby, that she lovëd so, - Would he destroy it ere he turned to go?-- - And yet she did not weep, she was resign'd - To all the wishes of her master's mind. - - To say a few meek words she then began, - And for one boon she pitifully pray'd, - That as he was a kind and worthy man - She might but kiss her baby ere it died. - And in her lap the little child she laid, - With mournful face, and did the baby bless, - And lull'd it with how many a soft caress! - -And then she said, in her gentle voice, "Farewell, my child; I shall never -see thee again; but since I have marked thee with the cross, may He who -died for us all bless thee! To him, little child, I give thy soul, for -this night thou shalt die for my sake." - -Truly, even to a nurse, this would have been hard to bear, but to a mother -how far more grievous! Still she was so firm and brave that she soon gave -up the baby to the sergeant, saying, "Take the little, tiny maid, and go, -do my lord's command. But one thing I pray you, that when it is dead you -will bury the little body in some place where birds and beasts will not -mangle it." - -The sergeant would not promise her even that, but carried the child off -with him.[149] - -He took the babe to the marquis, and told him exactly all that Griselda -had said. The marquis certainly showed some little feeling and regret; yet -he kept to his purpose, as men will when they are determined. He then bade -the sergeant wrap up the child softly and tenderly, and carry it in -secret, in a box or the skirt of a garment, to Bologna, where dwelt his -sister, Countess of Panik.[150] She would foster it kindly; but whom the -child belonged to was to be kept from all men's knowledge. - -The sergeant did as he was commanded, and the marquis watched his wife to -see if there should be any rebellion in her manner. But she did not -change. She was always kind, and loving, and serious, and as busy and -humble as ever. Not a word she spoke of the poor baby. - - -PART IV. - -A few years afterwards, Griselda had another child--a little boy. This was -still more joy to the people and to Walter than the other baby, because it -was the heir. - -When the babe was two years old, the marquis took it into his head to -tempt again his poor wife. Ah! how needless to torture her! but married -men care for no limits when they find a patient wife! - -"Wife," said the marquis, "I have told you how discontented are the people -with our marriage; and since the boy's birth their anger has been greater. -Their murmuring destroys all my comfort and courage. They grumble, because -when I am dead the blood of Janicle shall succeed to my heritage; and I -cannot disregard the words they say! So I think I will serve him as I -served his sister; but do not suddenly fly out with grief. Be patient, I -beg of you, and command your feelings." - -Griselda answered, sadly and calmly, when she heard this-- - - I have, quod sche, sayd thus, and ever schal, - I wol no thing, ne nil no thing certayn, will not - But as yow list: nought greveth me at al, please - Though that my doughter and my sone be slayn - At your comaundement: this is to sayn, say - I have not had no part of children twayne, - But first syknes, and after wo and payne. sickness - - Ye ben oure lord: doth with your owne thing be, master - Right as yow list: axith no red of me; ask, advice - For as I left at hom al my clothing - Whan I first com to yow, right so, quod sche, - Left I my wille and al my liberte, - And took your clothing; wherfor, I yow preye you - Doth your plesaunce, I wil youre lust obeye. desire - - - "I have," quoth she, "said this, and ever shall, - I wish not, nor will wish, it is certain, - But as you choose: I grieve me not at all, - Although my daughter and my son be slain - At your commandment: nor will I complain - That I have had no part in children twain, - But sickness first, and then a bitterer pain. - - "Thou art our lord: do, then, with what is thine - E'en as thou wilt: ask not assent of me;-- - For as I left at home all that was mine - When I came first to thee, right so," quoth she, - "Left I my will and all my liberty, - And took new habits: wherefore, now, I pray - Do but thy pleasure, and I will obey." - -"If I knew beforehand what your wish was," said poor Griselda, "I would do -it without delay; but now that I know your will, I am ready to die if you -desire it; for death is nothing compared with your love!" - -When the marquis heard that, he cast down his eyes, and wondered how she -could endure it all; and he went forth looking very dreary, but in reality -he felt extremely pleased. - -The ugly sergeant came again, and took away the little boy: Griselda -kissed it and blessed it, only asking that his little limbs might be kept -from the wild beasts and birds; but the sergeant promised nothing, and -secretly took him with great care to Bologna. - -The marquis was amazed at her patience; for he knew that, next to himself, -she loved her children best of anything in the world. What could he do -more to prove her steadfastness, and faithfulness, and patience? But there -are some people who, when they have once taken a thing into their head, -will stick to it as if they were bound to a stake. So this marquis made up -his mind to try his wife still further. - -He watched her closely, but never could he find any change in her: the -older she grew, the more faithful and industrious she was. Whatever he -liked, she liked: there seemed but one will between them; and, God be -thanked, all was for the best. - -But all this time the slander against Walter spread far and near; and the -people said he had wickedly murdered both his children, because his wife -was a poor woman. For the people had no idea what had really become of -them. And they began to hate Walter instead of loving him, as they had -once done; for a murderer is a hateful name. - -Still the marquis was so determined to test his wife, that he cared for -nothing else. - -When Griselda's daughter was twelve years old, Walter sent secretly to -Rome, commanding that false letters, seeming to come from the Pope, should -be made according to his will. These letters, or 'bulls,' were to give him -leave to quit his first wife, for the sake of his people, and marry -another woman; but they were none of them really from the Pope: they were -all counterfeit and false, made by Walter's order, to deceive Griselda. - -The common people did not know the difference between true letters and -false; but when the tidings arrived, Griselda was very sorrowful; for she -loved Walter best of all things, as he very well knew. - - I deeme that hir herte was ful wo;[151] judge, sad - But sche, ylike sad for evermo, alike, firm - Disposid was, this humble creature, disposed - Th'adversite of fortun al tendure. fortune, to - endure - - - Full sure am I her heart was full of wo; - But she, as though serene for evermo, - Was ready, in her humbleness of mind, - In all adversity to be resign'd. - -[Illustration: GRISELDA'S SORROW. - - 'And as a lamb sche sitteth meeke and stille, - And let this cruel sergeant doon his wille.'] - -Then the marquis sent to the Earl of Panik, who had married his sister, -begging him to bring both his children home, openly and in great honour; -but no one was to know whose children they were. He was to answer no -questions-- - - But saye the mayde schuld i-wedded be[152] should - Unto the Markys of Saluce anoon. immediately - And as this eorl was prayd, so dede he; did - For at day set he on his way is goon gone - Toward Saluce, and lordes many oon, many a one - In riche array, this mayden for to guyde, - Hir yonge brother rydyng by hir syde. - - Arrayed was toward hir mariage - This freisshe may, al ful of gemmes clere; maiden, gems - Hir brother, which that seven yer was of age, - Arrayed eek ful freissh in his manere; also, manner - And thus in gret noblesse and with glad chere, nobleness - Toward Saluces shaping her journay, their - Fro day to day thay ryden in her way. their - - - But say the maiden should, ere long, be wed - Unto the Marquis of Saluce so high. - And as this earl was pray'd to do, he did, - And started on his journey speedily - Towards Saluces, with lordly company - In rich array, this maiden fair to guide, - Her little brother riding by her side. - - And this fresh maid was robed for marriage - Full of clear gems, in goodly raiment rare; - Her brother, who was seven years of age, - Was in his fashion clad all fresh and fair; - And thus, in splendour, and with joyous air, - Towards Saluces following the way, - The cavalcade advances day by day. - - -PART V. - -In order to put the last trial upon Griselda, to the uttermost proof of -her courage, the marquis one day, before all the household, said to her in -a boisterous way-- - - Certes, Grisildes, I had y-nough plesaunce certainly, - pleasure - To have yow to my wif, for your goodnesse - And for youre trouthe, and for your obeissaunce; truth, obedience - Nought for your lignage, ne for your richesse; lineage, wealth - But now know I in verray sothfastnesse truth - That in gret lordschip, if I wel avyse, am not mistaken - Ther is gret servitude in sondry wyse. sundry wise - - I may not do, as every ploughman may; - My poeple me constreignith for to take constrain - Another wyf, and crien day by day; - And eek the Pope, rancour for to slake, - Consentith it, that dar I undertake; dare - And trewely, thus moche I wol yow saye, much - My newe wif is comyng by the waye. - - Be strong of hert, and voyde anoon hir place, heart - And thilke dower that ye broughten me that - Tak it agayn, I graunt it of my grace. - Retourneth to your fadres hous, quod he, return - No man may alway have prosperité, - With even hert I rede yow endure advise - The strok of fortune or of adventure. chance - - And sche agayn answerd in paciènce: - My lord, quod sche, I wot, and wist alway, - How that bitwixe your magnificence - And my poverté, no wight can ne may nobody - Make comparisoun, it is no nay; - I ne held me neuer digne in no manere worthy, manner - To ben your wif, ne yit your chamberere. chambermaid - - And in this hous, ther ye me lady made, - (The highe God take I for my witnesse, - And al-so wisly he my soule glade) cheer - I never huld me lady ne maistresse, - But humble servaunt to your worthinesse, - And ever schal, whil that my lyf may dure, life - Aboven every worldly creature. above - - That ye so longe of your benignité benignity - Han holden me in honour and nobleye, nobleness - Wher as I was not worthy for to be, where - That thonk I God and yow, to whom I preye thank - For-yeld it yow, ther is no more to seye. repay - Unto my fader gladly wil I wende, go - And with him duelle unto my lyves ende. - - Ther I was fostred as a child ful smal, - Til I be deed my lyf ther wil I lede, - A widow clene in body, hert, and al: clean - For sith I yaf to yow my maydenhede, since, maidenhood - And am your trewe wyf, it is no drede, - God schilde such a lordes wyf to take shield (forbid) - Another man to housbond or to make. for, for mate - - And of your newe wif, God of his grace - So graunte yow wele and prosperité, - For I wol gladly yelden hir my place, yield - In which that I was blisful wont to be. - For sith it liketh yow, my lord, quod sche, - That whilom were al myn hertes reste, once - That I schal gon, I wol go whan yow leste. please - - But ther as ye profre me such dowayre proffer - As I ferst brought, it is wel in my mynde, - It were my wrecchid clothes, no thing faire, wretched - The whiche to me were hard now for to fynde. - O goode God! how gentil and how kynde - Ye semede by your speche and your visage, speech - That day that maked was our mariage! made - - - "Tis true, Griselda, I was once content - To marry you--because you were so good, - And true, and faithful, and obedient-- - Not for your wealth, nor for your noble blood; - Still one thing must be clearly understood, - That in this rank and riches men so praise - There is great servitude in many ways. - - "I may not do as every ploughman may: - My people urge me evermore to take - Another wife, and clamour day by day. - And now the Pope, their rancour swift to slake, - Gives glad consent to any change I make; - And more than that--I need not fear to say-- - My new wife is already on her way. - - Make way for her, be brave, give up her place, - And, see, the dowry that you brought to me - I will restore--I grant it of my grace. - Go back unto your father's house," quoth he, - "No one can always have prosperity. - With equal spirit suffer weal or woe, - The gifts of chance or luck that come and go." - - And she replied, with perfect patience: - "My lord, I know, and knew alway," quoth she, - "Too well, that 'tween your own magnificence - And my great poverty, there cannot be - Comparison at all, and verily - I held myself unworthy every way - To be your wife--or servant--for a day. - - "And in this house wherein ye made me great - (High God my witness, who shall haply set - Some coming comfort in my altered state), - Lady nor mistress never was I yet; - But humble servant to the grace I get: - This I shall be, with spirit ever strong, - More than all others, yea, my whole life long. - - "And for your charity in keeping me - In dignity and honour day by day - So many years, unworthy though I be, - Now thank I God and you, to whom I pray - That He will all your graciousness repay. - Unto my father cheerfully I wend - To dwell with him from now to my life's end. - - "There I was fostered as an infant small, - There till I die my life I will lead through, - Dwell as an honest widow, heart and all. - For since I gave my girlhood unto you, - And am your wife, most loving and most true, - It were not fitting that a great lord's wife - Should wed another husband all her life. - - "And with your wife to be, God of his grace - Grant you all welfare and prosperity; - For I will yield her cheerfully my place, - In which I once so happy used to be; - For since it pleaseth you, my lord," quoth she, - "Who ever were the dearest to my heart, - That I should go, content I will depart. - - "But when you bid me take again that dower - That I first brought, it still is in my mind: - It was my wretched clothing, coarse and poor-- - Rags that it were not easy now to find. - And, O good God! how gentle and how kind - You then seemed, by your words and by your look, - That day whereon the name of wife I took!" - -Griselda said no word of reproach to her cruel husband, except one -touching remark, which he may have felt as one-- - -"Love is not old as when that it is new." (Love is not the same in after -years as when it first comes.) - -Then she appeals to him in a way that must have touched a heart of stone, -for she saw no sign of relenting in his face: she does not know how far -his brutality will go, and will not be surprised at the last insult. - - My lord, ye wot that in my fadres place - Ye dede me strippe out of my pore wede, strip, attire - And richely me cladden of your grace; - To yow brought I nought elles, out of drede, else - But faith, and nakednesse, and maydenhede; maidenhood - And her agayn my clothyng I restore, - And eek my weddyng ryng for evermore. - - The remenant of your jewels redy be remainder - Within your chambur, dar I saufly sayn. dare - Naked out of my fadres hous, quod sche, - I com, and naked moot I torne agayn. return - Al your pleisauns wold I folwen fayn;[153] follow gladly - But yit I hope it be not youre entente, intention - That I smocles out of your paleys wente. smockless, palace - - - "My lord, you know that in my father's place - You stript me of my poor attire, for ruth: - Anew you richly clad me, of your grace. - And I brought nothing unto you, in truth, - But honesty, and poverty, and youth. - And here again your clothing I restore, - And ev'n your wedding-ring for evermore. - - "The remnant of your jewels ready be - Within your chamber, I can safely say. - With nothing from my father's house," quoth she, - "I came, with nothing I shall go away. - In all things as you bid I will obey; - But yet I hope you will not let me go - Quite as bereft as when I came to you." - -A faint sparkle of human spirit comes into her entreaty--"Ye could not do -so dishonest (shameful) a thing:"-- - - Remembre yow, myn oughne lord so deere, own - I was your wyf, though I unworthy were. - - Wherfor, in guerdoun of my maydenhede, girlhood - Which that I brought, and not agayn I bere, carry away - As vouchethsauf as yeve me to my meede vouchsafe, reward - But such a smok as I was wont to were. smock, wear - - - "Remember yet, my lord and husband dear, - I was your wife, though I unworthy were! - - "Thus, in requital of the youth I brought, - But never can take back, nor have it more, - Give me, I pray, a garment of such sort - As in those days of poverty I wore." - -Walter accepts this humble claim; mark the calm dignity with which she -refrains from giving way before her 'folk.' - - The smok,[154] quod he, that thou hast on thy bak, smock - Let it be stille, and ber it forth with the. - But wel unnethes thilke word he spak, scarcely, this - But went his way for routhe and for pité. compassion - Byforn the folk hirselven strippith sche, herself - And in hir smok, with heed and foot al bare, head and feet - Toward hir fader house forth is she fare. went - - The folk hir folwen wepyng in hir weye, follow her - And fortune ay thay cursen as thay goon; curse - But she fro wepyng kept hir eyen dreye, dry - Ne in this tyme word ne spak sche noon. none - Hir fader, that this tyding herd anoon, - Cursede the day and tyme that nature - Schoop him to ben a lyves creäture. formed, living - - For oute of doute this olde pore man - Was ever in suspect of hir mariage; suspicion - For ever he deemede, sith that it bigan, believed - That whan the lord fulfilled had his corrage, impulse - Him wolde thinke that it were disparage disparagement - To his estate, so lowe for to lighte, - And voyden hire as sone as ever he mighte. put her away - - Agayns his doughter hastily goth he goeth - (For he by noyse of folk knew hir comyng), - And with hir olde cote, as it might be, coat - He covered hir, ful sorwfully wepynge, sorrowfully - But on hir body might he it nought bringe, - For rude was the cloth, and mor of age, coarse, more - By dayes fele than at hir mariage. many (_viel_) - - Thus with hir fader for a certeyn space - Dwellith this flour of wifly pacience, flower - That neyther by hir wordes, ne by hir face, - Byforn the folk nor eek in her absence, also, their - Ne schewed sche that hir was doon offence; showed, done - Ne of hir highe astaat no remembraunce nor, estate - Ne hadde she, as by hir countenaunce. - - - "The shift," he said, "thou hast upon thy back, - Let it remain, and bear it forth with thee." - But scarcely that hard word for pain he spake, - And went his way for sorrow and pity. - Before the household all her robes stript she; - And in her shift, barefoot and bare of head, - Toward her father's house forth is she sped. - - The household follow, tears in every eye, - Bewailing her ill-fortune as they go; - But she from weeping kept her own eyes dry, - Nor spake a word to those who murmur'd so. - Her father heard the news awhile ago, - And sore laments the day that he was born, - To be a thing so helpless and forlorn. - - For ever without doubt the poor old man - Distrusted heartily her altered rank; - Believing inly since it first began, - That when my lord had wearied of his prank, - He would conceive it far beneath his rank - To have a low-born wife, however good, - And rid himself of her whene'er he could. - - Unto his daughter hastily he goes, - (For by the noise of crowds he knew her nigh), - And her old garb about her form he throws, - And covers her, with tears and many a sigh, - But could not draw it round her properly, - For coarse and shrunk the cloth was--worse for age - By many days, than at her marriage. - - Thus with her father for a certain space - Did dwell this flower of wifely patience; - And neither by her speech nor by her face, - Before the folk, nor e'en in their absènce, - Seem'd she to feel that she endured offence. - As far as any living soul could see - She had of her past state no memory. - -And after all it was scarce any wonder. For in her days of wealth her -spirit had always been humble and meek. No dainty fare, no foolish pomp or -luxury, no semblance of splendid rank, had she allowed herself; but, ever -wise and humble and firm, when reverses came she was ready to bear them. - -Men speak of Job's patience; but, though some praise women little enough, -no man can be as patient as a woman can--no man be faithful as a woman -can. - - -PART VI. - -At last the Earl of Panik arrived, whose fame had been spreading among -great and small. The people had all found out that he was bringing them a -new marchioness, in such pomp and state, that never before had a like -splendour been seen throughout West Lombardy. - -The marquis, who had arranged all these things, sent for this poor -innocent Griselda; and she came with humble mind and joyful face, and no -proud notions in her heart, and knelt before him and asked his will. - -"Griselda," he said, "my will is that the maiden whom I am to marry be -received here as royally as it is possible in my house to be, and that -everybody, according to his degree, shall be made thoroughly welcome and -happy. I have no woman able to arrange my rooms fully to my liking, and -therefore I want you to take everything in hand. You know of old my ways -and my tastes; therefore, though your dress _is_ ragged and you look very -bad, you must do your duties to the very best of your power." - -Griselda answered, "Not only, lord, am I glad to do anything for you, but -I love you enough to work all my days to please you." - - And with that worde sche gan the hous to dighte, - And tables for to sette, and beddes make: - - - And with that word she 'gan the house to deck, - To set the tables and to make the beds: - -begging all the chambermaids to hasten and hurry and shake and sweep -smartly; and she, most serviceable of them all, got every chamber and the -great hall garnished and adorned. - - Abouten undern gan this lord alighte, forenoon - That with him broughte these noble children tweye; two - For which the peple ran to se that sighte - Of hir array, so richely biseye; rich to be seen - And than at erst amonges hem thay seye at first - That Walter was no fool, though that hem leste he pleased - To chaunge his wyf; for it was for the beste. - - For sche is fairer, as thay demen alle, deem - Than is Grisild, and more tendre of age. younger - - - Somewhat ere noonday did this earl alight, - Who with him brought the unknown children fair, - And all the people ran to see the sight - Of their array, resplendent as they were; - And soon the common thought was whispered there, - That Walter was no fool for being glad - To change his wife--a good exchange he had! - - For she is fairer, as they notice all, - Than is Griselda, tenderer of age. - -And the throngs of admiring serfs stood making their light remarks, -forgetful of the victim of it all, and her undeserved disgrace. They watch -the fair bride and the handsome boy beside her, and every moment the -marquis seems to get more popular. - - O stormy poeple, unsad and ever untrewe, unsteady - And undiscret and chaunging as a fane, indiscreet - Delytyng ever in rombel that is newe, noise - For lik the moone ay waxe ye and wane, - Ay ful of clappyng, dere ynough a jane,[155] chattering - Youre doom is fals, your constaunce yvil previth, judgment, ill - proveth - A ful gret fool is he that on yow leevith. believeth - - - O stormy people, light, and ever untrue, - And undiscerning--changing as a fane, - Delighting in new noise, because 'tis new, - How like the moon do ye, too, wax and wane! - Your empty praise, like worthless coin, is vain: - False is your judgment, frail your constancy, - Who trusts to you--a full great fool is he. - -That is what the graver people in the city said when the populace were -gazing up and down, glad for the novelty, to have a new lady in the -castle. - -Meanwhile Griselda was working busily at everything that was needed for -the feast. She was nothing abashed at her clothing, though it was rude and -coarse, and somewhat torn besides. She went to the gate with the rest to -salute the bride, and hurried back at once to her work. - -She received every one cheerfully, and in such a manner that no one had a -fault to find with her; but some of them wondered who this woman was, in -such shabby clothes, but who behaved with so much grace and propriety; and -many praised her diligence and wisdom. - -When all the great lords were about to sit down to supper, Walter called -to Griselda, who was working in the hall. - - Grisyld, quod he, as it were in his play, - How likith the my wif and hir beauté? do you like - Right wel, my lord, quod sche, for in good fay faith - A fairer saugh I never noon than sche. none - I pray to God yive hir prosperité; - And so hope I that he wol to yow sende - Plesaunce ynough unto your lyves ende. pleasantness - - On thing biseke I yow, and warne also,[156] beseech - That ye ne prike with no tormentynge prick - This tendre mayden, as ye han doon mo: more (others) - For she is fostrid in hir norischinge fostered, - nourishing - More tendrely, and to my supposyng: as I suppose - Sche couthe not adversité endure, - As couthe a pore fostrid creature. could, poorly - - And whan this Walter saugh hir pacience, - Hir glade cheer, and no malice at al, - And he so oft hadde doon to hir offence, - And sche ay sad, and constant as a wal, steady - Continuyng ever hir innocence overal: - This sturdy marquis gan his herte dresse direct - To rewen upon hir wyfly stedefastnesse. to pity - - This is ynough, Grisilde myn, quod he, - Be now no more agast, ne yvel apayed, afraid, - disappointed - I have thy faith and thy benignité, goodness - As wel as ever womman was, assayed essayed - In gret estate, and pourliche[157] arrayed. poorly - Now knowe I, dere wyf, thy stedefastnesse. - And hir in armes took and gan hir kesse. kiss - - And sche for wonder took of it no keepe, heed - Sche herde not what thing he to hir sayde, - Sche ferd as sche hadde stert out of a sleepe, fared, started - Til sche out of hir masidnesse abrayde. awoke - Grisild, quod he, by God that for us deyde, died - Thou art my wyf, non other I ne[158] have, - Ne never had, as God my soule save. - - This is thy[159] doughter, which thou hast supposed - To be my wif: that other faithfully - Shal be myn heir, as I have ay purposed. - Thow bar hem of thy body trewely. - At Boloyne have I kept hem prively. - Tak hem agayn, for now maistow not seye mayest thou - That thou hast lorn noon of thy children tweye. lost - - And folk, that other weyes han seyd of me, - I warn hem wel, that I have doon this deede done - For no malice, ne for no cruelté, - But for tassaye in thee thy wommanhede; to assay, - womanhood - And not to slen my children (God forbede!) forbid - But for to kepe hem prively and stille quietly - Til I thy purpos knewe, and al thy wille! - - - "Grisild," he said to her, as if in play, - "How seems my wife and her fair looks to thee?" - "Right well, my lord," said she, "for in good fay - I never saw a fairer bride than she; - I pray God give you both prosperity; - And so I hope that He will ever send - You happiness enough to your lives' end. - - "One thing I pray of you, and warn beside, - That you goad not with any torturing - This tender maid--like some you have sore tried - For she is nurtured in her upbringing - More tenderly--and such a gentle thing - Might haply not adversity endure - Like one whose nurture had been hard and poor." - - And when this Walter saw her patientness, - Her cheerful mien, and malice none at all; - Though he so oft had tried her more or less, - And she still firm and constant as a wall, - Continuing ever her innocence over all: - This sturdy marquis 'gan his heart to chide, - Touch'd by her steadfast faith that never died. - - "This is enough, Griselda mine," said he, - "Be no more ill at ease, and fear no more! - I have thy faith and strength and charity - Tempted, as woman never was before, - Both in thy wealth, and in thy rags so poor. - Now do I know, dear wife, thy steadfastness:" - And clasp'd her in his arms with many a kiss. - - But she for wonder took no heed of him, - She heard not any of the words he spoke, - She seemed as one that starteth from a dream - Till she from her astonishment awoke. - "Griselde," cried he, "it was a cruel joke: - Thou art my wife, none other one I have, - Nor ever had--as God my soul shall save! - - "This is thy daughter, whom thou hast supposed - To be my wife--that other faithfully - Shall be my heir, as I have long disposed; - For they are both thy children, verily. - I kept them at Bologna privily. - Take them again, thou canst not say, as once, - Thou hast lost either of thy little ones. - - "And folk, who otherwise have said of me, - I warn them well that I have acted thus, - Neither in malice nor in cruelty, - Solely to prove thy patience marvellous, - And not to slay my babes (God hinder us!) - But to conceal them secretly apart - Until I learned thy purpose and thy heart!" - -You may fancy you see Griselda at this moment, standing in her rags before -the glittering company, and her brain dazed with wondering whether this -were some new freak, or the truth that brought unheard-of joy. But nature -had been taxed too far, and all her courage could not bear up against the -shock. - - Whan sche this herd, aswone doun she fallith, in a swoon - For pitous joy, and after her swownyng swooning - Sche bothe hir yonge children to hir callith, - And in hir armes, pitously wepyng, - Embraseth hem, and tendrely kissyng, - Ful lik a moder, with hir salte teres tears - Sche bathide bothe hir visage and hir heres.[159] their hair - - - When she heard this, all senseless down she falleth, - For piteous joy--and half unconsciously - Both her young children unto her she calleth, - And in her arms, weeping so piteously, - Embraceth them, with kisses tenderly, - Full like a mother, and the tears she sheds - Bathe the fair faces and the dear loved heads. - -Piteous it was to hear her humble voice, thanking Walter so fervently. -"_Graunt mercy_, lord, God thank you," cried she, "for saving me my -children. Now I care not how soon I die, since your love has come back to -me. - - O tendre, O dere, O yonge children myne,[160] - Youre woful moder wende stedefastly believed - That cruel houndes or som foul vermyne wild dogs - Had eten yow: but God of his mercy, - And your benigne fader tenderly - Hath doon yow kepe. And in that same stounde preserved you, - moment - Al sodeinly sche swapped doun to grounde. sank - - And in hir swough so sadly holdith sche swoon, firmly - Hir children tuo, whan sche gan hem tembrace, to embrace them - That with gret sleight and gret difficulté skill - The children from her arm they gonne arace. tear away - O! many a teer on many a pitous face - Doun ran of hem that stooden hir bisyde, down, stood, - beside - Unnethe aboute hir mighte thay abyde. hardly - - Waltier hir gladith, and hir sorwe slakith, cheers, sorrow - Sche rysith up abaisshed from hir traunce, abashed - And every wight hir joy and feste makith, everybody - Til sche hath caught agayn hir continaunce; countenance - Wauter hir doth so faithfully plesaunce, comforts her - That it was daynté for to see the cheere dainty - Bitwix hem tuo, now thay be met in feere. company - - These ladys, whan that thay hir tyme save, their, saw - Han taken hir, and into chambre goon, have - And strippen hir out of hir rude arraye, - And in a cloth of gold that brighte schon, shone - With a coroun of many a riche stoon crown, stone - Upon hir heed, they into hallo hir broughte, - And ther sche was honoured as hir oughte. she ought to be - - Thus hath this pitous day a blisful ende; - For every man and womman doth his might best - This day in mirth and revel to despende, - Til on the welken schon the sterres brighte; welkin - For more solempne in every mannes sighte stately, man's - This feste was, and gretter of costage, greater, cost - Than was the revel of hir mariage. - - - "O young, O dear, O tender children mine, - Your hapless mother thought in all her wo - That cruel beasts of prey and foul vermine - Had slain you both; but God had mercy--lo! - He and your loving father will'd it so - That you should be preserved:" and said no more, - But suddenly fell fainting on the floor. - - And in her swoon so closely holdeth she - Her new-found children in a strong embrace. - That those around unclasp not easily - The fingers which so firmly interlace: - O! many a tear on many a pitying face - Ran down in token of deep sympathy-- - Scarce could they bear to watch her agony. - - Walter consoleth her as she awaketh: - She riseth up bewildered from her trance: - Each presseth round about and merry maketh - Until she hath recovered countenance. - With kisses and with loving word and glance - Walter doth cheer her--sweet it was to see - The joy they felt--united happily. - - And when they saw their time, these ladies gay - Unto a chamber led her forth with them, - And stript her out of all her rude array, - And in apparel bright with many a gem - Clad her, and, crownëd with a diadem - Upon her head, they brought her to the hall, - Where she was meetly honoured of them all. - - Thus hath this piteous day a blissful end, - Till every man and woman in the rout - Striveth the day in mirth and glee to spend, - Till in the darken'd sky the stars shone out; - For greater and more sumptuous, without doubt, - This revel was--and there was more to pay-- - Than the rejoicings on her marriage-day. - -Thus dwelt, for many years after, Walter and his wife in peace and joy; -and I hope that the suffering of that day was the last Griselda had to -bear at the hands of her capricious and wilful spouse. The pretty daughter -Walter married to one of the greatest lords in Italy; and he then brought -Griselda's old father to dwell in peace and comfort in his own court. - -His son succeeded to his state and rank, and married happily, though he -did not tempt and torment his wife as Walter did; for the world is not so -strong as it once was, and people cannot bear such treatment now! - -The story is told, not that wives should imitate Griselda in humility, for -it would be unbearable, even if they did; but that every one in his degree -should be constant in adversity as Griselda was. For if one woman could be -so submissive to a mortal man, how much more ought we to take patiently -all that God sends as our lot in life. - -But one word before I stop! It would be hard to find in a whole city -three, or even two, Griseldas nowadays. The gold in their nature is now so -mixed with base metal that in any great trial the coin would sooner break -than bend. - - Grisild is deed, and eek hir pacience, also - And bothe at oones buried in Itayle; once - For whiche I crye in open audience - No weddid man so hardy be to assayle - His wyves pacience, in hope to fynde - Grisildes, for in certeyn he schal fayle. - - - Dead is Griselda, and her patience, - Both buried in one grave in Italy; - So I entreat in open audience - No wedded man be rash enough to try - His own wife's patience, in the hope to find - Griselda's, for he'll fail most certainly! - - -Notes by the Way - -The tender pathos in Chaucer's telling of this story (which he borrowed -from Petrarch, but which is really much older than his time), cannot be -excelled in any story we know of. The definite human interest running all -through it points to some living Griselda, but who she was, or where she -came from, no one knows. Resignation, so steadfast and so willing, was the -virtue of an early time, when the husband was really a 'lord and master'; -and such submission in a woman of the present civilization would be rather -mischievous than meritorious. If a modern wife cheerfully consented to the -murder of her children by her spouse, she would probably be consigned to a -_maison de santé_, while her husband expiated his sins on the scaffold; -and if she endured other persecutions, such as Griselda did, it is to be -hoped some benevolent outsider would step in, if only to prevent cruelty -to animals. - -But it must be remembered that in the old world wives held a very -different position in society, and the obedience of all the household to -the lord of the castle was the chief secret of peace, discipline, and -unity, as obedience to the captain of a vessel is now. We may also infer, -from many hints in this Tale, the admiration felt for that kind of -self-command in which people of a ruder time were so deficient. When -almost everybody gave way habitually to violent emotions of all sorts, -those who could rein in feeling were held in high esteem. Perhaps Walter -himself may not have been wantonly cruel, but only so bewildered by these -unaccustomed virtues that he could not trust their sincerity without -experiments.[161] - -Chaucer seems to me to have devoted especial pains to the Clerk's Tale, -relating it in the same careful versification as the history of the pious -Constance (Man of Law's Tale), the holy St. Cecilia (second Nonne's Tale), -and the Prioress's Tale--all religious, and undoubtedly written _con -amore_. - -The story of Griselda winds up with real artistic power, the Clerk -concluding with an ironical little song addressed to ordinary wives, so as -to leave his hearers laughing, instead of depressed by the inadequate -reward of patient Grizel's virtues. This little song consists of six -beautiful verses, of six lines only each, and in which every line rhymes -with the corresponding line in the five other verses. Clearly great labour -has been lavished on it--but I have not included it, as the ironical -directions to wives to be _bad_ wives would be probably not understood by -a child, and superfluous if they were. - - - - -The Franklin's Tale. - - -Mine host would not suffer long delay between the stories; and as soon as -the last story was at an end, he called upon the Franklin to begin. - - -In Armorike,[162] that is called Brittany, there was a knight named -Arviragus, who loved the lady Dorigene. Much he laboured, and many a brave -deed he performed for her sake. He loved her so dearly that no trouble -seemed to him too great to win her love, for she was the fairest lady -under the sun, and, moreover, came of high lineage. But, at last, seeing -his worthiness and meek obedience, she consented to take him for her -husband and her lord (such lordship as men have over their wives); and, in -order that they might live more happily together, Arviragus, of his own -free will, swore, as a knight, that he would never tyrannize over her, but -follow her wishes in all things, as he had done ever.[163] - -This kindness touched the lady deeply, and she thanked Arviragus; and, -with great humility, she said, "Since of your gentillesse you proffer me -so much power, I will always be a humble and true wife to you. Have here -my troth, until my life shall end." - -Thus they lived happily and at peace; for those who would live long -together must give in to each other. - - Love wol nought ben constreigned by maystrie: mastery - Whan maystrie cometh, the god of love anon soon - Beteth his winges, and fare wel--he is gon! - - - Love will not be constrained by tyranny; - When mastery cometh, the god of Love anon - Beateth his wings, and farewell!--he is gone! - -For women wish for liberty, and not to be kept like slaves--and so do men -also, if I tell truth. And whoever is patient in love, has all the -advantage. Patience is a high virtue, for it overcomes things that rigour -cannot do. - -Arviragus went home with his wife to his own country, not far from -Penmark,[164] where they dwelt 'in bliss and in solace.' - -When a year had passed away, this knight Arviragus made ready to go to -England[165] to seek fame and honour in the service of arms, and there he -dwelt two years. - -But Dorigene loved her husband so dearly that she wept and fell sick when -she was left alone. She could not sleep or eat, and as time went on, all -her friends thought she would die. They tried to amuse her all that they -could. Night and day they strove to comfort her, she was so sad, and -begged her to go and roam with them in the fields and on the sea-shore. - -You know even a stone will show some pattern at last if you cut long -enough at it: and after a while Dorigene began to try and cheer up a -little. Meanwhile, Arviragus sent letters home to tell her he would -speedily return, else grief had slain her heart! - -Now, Dorigene's castle stood near the sea; and sometimes she used to walk -with her friends and her people on the cliffs, from whence she could see -ever so many great ships and barges sailing by. But even the sea began to -make her sad, for she said to herself, "Of all these ships that I see, is -there not one will bring me back my lord?" - -At other times she would sit and look down from the brink of the cliff; -but when she saw the grisly black rocks that wrecked so many ships, her -heart quaked with fear, and she sank on the green grass, and cried, with -deep sighs of grief, "Would to God that all these black rocks were sunk -into the earth, for my lord's sake!" and the piteous tears fell from her -eyes. - -Her friends soon saw it did her no good looking at the sea, but only made -her worse. So they led her by rivers, and in beautiful green places, where -they danced, and played at chess and tables.[166] - - So on a day, right in the morwe tyde, morning - Unto a gardyne that was ther besyde, - In which that thay hadde made here ordinaunce - Of vitaile, and of other purvyaunce, victual - They gon and pleyen hem al the longe day. go, play - And this was on the sixte morwe of May,[167] - Which May had peynted with his softe schoures - This gardyn ful of leves and of floures. - - - So on a day, before the sun was high, - Unto a garden fair that was hard by - (Wherein they had spread forth their meat and drink, - And every comfort that the heart could think), - They went--and sported all the whole long day, - And this was on the sixth sweet morn of May, - When May had painted, with his tender showers, - This garden full of fragrant leaves and flowers. - -The odour of flowers and the fresh scene would have made any heart light -that ever was born except one burdened by great sickness or great sorrow. -After dinner they began to dance and sing--all save Dorigene, whose heart -was sad. He whom she loved best was not among them. - -There danced, among others, a squire before Dorigene, who was handsomer, -and more radiant in array, and fresher than a May morning. He sang and -danced better than anybody ever danced before, or will again! And, -besides, he was young, strong, and virtuous, and rich and wise, and held -in great esteem. - -This squire, whose name was Aurelius, had long loved the Lady Dorigene, -but she knew nothing of it. He did not dare to tell her his grief, and -could only sing songs, in which he complained in a general way that he -loved some one who regarded him not. - -He made a great many songs in this strain. - -But at last, on this day it happened, as Aurelius was her neighbour, and a -man of worship and honour, Dorigene fell a-talking with him; and when he -saw a chance, Aurelius said to her, "Madam, I wish when Arviragus went -over the sea, I had gone whither I could never come back! For well I know -you do not care for me. Madam, forget Arviragus: and love me a little, or -I shall die!" - -Dorigene looked at him, and said, "Is this your will? I never knew what -you meant. But now, this is my answer: I cannot forget my Arviragus, and I -do not care for any one but him!" - -But afterwards she said in play, "Aurelius, I will love you when you have -taken away all the rocks and stones that hinder the ships from sailing. -And when you have made the coast so clear that there is not a single stone -to be seen, then I will love you best of any man." For she well knew the -rocks could never be moved. - -But Aurelius was sorely grieved. "Is there no other grace in you?" said -he. "No, by that Lord who made me," Dorigene answered. "Madam, it is an -impossibility," he said; "I must die." - -Then came Dorigene's other friends, who knew nothing of this. They roamed -up and down the green alleys, and betook themselves to new sports and new -revels; but Aurelius did not mingle with them. He went sorrowfully to his -own home, for it seemed as though he felt his heart grow cold. - -He was so sad that he fell sick, and so suffered a long, long time, -telling his trouble to nobody in the world; except to his brother, who was -a clerk,[168] and who was very sorry for him. - - His breast was hole withouten for to sene, see - But in his herte ay was the arwe kene. ever - - - His breast was whole without, to every eye, - But in his heart the arrow keen did lie. - -And well you know that it is a perilous cure when a wound is healed -outwardly only! - -Meanwhile, Arviragus came home from England to his faithful wife, and -there were great rejoicings, and feasts, and jousting; and these two were -so glad to see each other that they thought of nothing else. Dorigene -cared nothing at all for Aurelius; and Arviragus had no suspicion that -Aurelius had spoken to her of love. - -[Illustration: DORIGEN AND AURELIUS IN THE GARDEN. - - 'Have mercy, swete, or ye wol do me deye.'] - -Now Aurelius' brother was a very learned man; and as he saw Aurelius got -no better, he was very unhappy about him. At last he remembered that he -had once seen at Orleans, in France, a book on conjuring,[169] which had -been left in his way. This book was full of all sorts of curious tricks -which were performed by the 'tregetoures' or jugglers of that day. He was -glad when he thought of this book, feeling sure he saw a chance of curing -Aurelius. - - And whan this boke was in his remembraunce, - Anon for joye his herte gan for to daunce, immediately - And to him selve he sayde pryvely, - My brother shal be warisshed hastely, cured - For I am siker that ther ben sciences sure - By whiche men maken dyverse apparences, various - Swiche as thise subtile tregetoures pleyen, - For oft at festes have I wel herde seyen - That tregettoures withinne an halle large - Han made come in a water and a barge, - And in the halle rowen up and doun. - Sometyme hath semed come a grym leoun, seemed, grim - And sometyme floures spring as in a mede,[170] - Sometyme a vine, and grapes white and rede, - Sometyme a castel al of lym and ston, - And whan hem liked voyded it anon. dispersed - Thus semeth it to every mannes sight. - - - And when this book came, by a lucky chance, - Into his mind, his heart began to dance, - And to himself he whispered privily, - "My brother shall be healed full speedily, - For I am sure that there be sciences - By which men raise divers appearances, - Such as the cunning jugglers do in play; - For oftentimes at feasts have I heard say - That jugglers playing in a hall so large, - Have seemed to bring in waters and a barge, - And in the hall they row it to and fro. - Sometimes a lion fierce will come and go, - Sometimes, as in a meadow, flowers upspring, - Sometimes a vine, with rich fruit clustering, - Sometimes a castle all of lime and stone, - And when they wish, at once the whole is gone! - Thus seemeth it to be, in all men's sight." - -Therefore he thought that if he could find any old friend at Orleans, who -knew anything of magic, he might help Aurelius to win the beautiful -Dorigene. - -He went to his brother's bed, and gave him so much hope that he sprang up -at once and started off to Orleans. - -When they were nearly arrived at the city, they met a young clerk, roaming -by himself, who greeted them in Latin, saying, to their great wonder, "I -know the cause that brings you here," and, ere they went a step farther, -he told them all that was in their minds! - -This clerk was, you see, a magician, and having saved them the trouble of -explaining their business, he brought them to his house, where he feasted -them in splendid style, and showed them many wonderful visions. - - He schewed hem, er they went to soupere, supper - Forestes, parkes, full of wilde dere; - There[171] saw he hartes with hir hornes hie, - The gretest that were ever seen with eie! - He saw of hem an hundred slain with houndes, - And som with arwes blede of bitter woundes. - He saw, when voided were the wilde dere, departed - Thise faukoneres upon a faire rivere, - That with hir haukes han the heron slein. hawks - Tho saw he knyhtes justen in a pleyn; joust - And after this he dide him such plesaunce, - That he him schewed his lady in a daunce, - On which himself he dauncéd, as him thouht. - And when this mayster that this magique wrouht, - Sawh it was tyme, he clapped his hondes tuo, two - And, fare wel! al the revel is y-do! done - And yet remued they never out of the hous - While they saw alle this sightes mervelous; - But in his studie, ther his bookes be, - They saten stille, and no wighte but they thre. - - - He made appear, before they went to meat, - Forests and parks, with wild deer fair and fleet; - There saw he harts that tossed their antlers high, - The greatest that were ever seen with eye! - He saw a hundred of them slain by hounds, - While some with arrows bled of bitter wounds, - And when the wild deer were no longer there, - Came falconers upon a river fair, - Who, with their falcons, have the heron slain; - Then saw he knights all jousting in a plain; - And after this he gave him such pleasance, - That he could see his lady in a dance, - In which himself was dancing, as he thought. - And when this master, who the magic wrought, - Saw it was time, he clapped his hands, and eh! - Farewell! for all the revel fades away! - And yet they never moved from out the house, - While they did see these visions marvellous; - But in his study, where his volumes lay, - They sat alone, and no man else but they. - -Therefore, after all these wondrous sights, inside the magician's study, -there was no doubt that he could make the rocks disappear on the coast of -Brittany! - -Aurelius asked him how much money he should give him to perform that feat, -and the magician said he must have no less than a thousand pounds;[172] -but Aurelius said he would give him the whole world if he could; and it -was agreed that for this sum he should make the rocks vanish, and that -without delay! - -The next morning, at daybreak, Aurelius, his brother, and the magician, -went to the sea-side of Brittany, where the feat was to be done: it was -the cold frosty month of December. - -Aurelius paid the magician every attention in his power, and entreated him -to hasten to alleviate his misery; he rather ungraciously added, that he -would slit his heart with his sword if he didn't. - -The cunning sorcerer made as much haste as he could with his spells and -trickeries to make all the rocks sink, or seem to sink, before the eyes of -all that looked at them, right underground; at last he succeeded. By his -magic arts it really did seem to everybody, for a week or two, that the -rocks were all gone. - -Aurelius thanked him with joy, and then hastened to the castle, where he -knew he should see Dorigene, to remind her of what she had promised. - -"My sovereign lady," he said, saluting her humbly-- - - Ye wot right wel what ye byhighte me, promised - And in myn hond your trouthe plighte ye my - To love me best; God woot ye sayde so, - Al be that I unworthy am therto. - Madame, I speke it for thonour of yow you - More than to save myn hertes lif right now: - I have do so as ye comaundede me, - And if ye vouchesauf ye maye go se. vouchsafe - In yow lith al to do me lyve or deye, lieth - But wel I wote the rokkes ben aweye. are - - - "You know right well what you have promised me, - And hand in mine your fair trouth plighted ye - To love me best; God knoweth you said so, - Although I be unworthy thereunto. - Madam, I speak for th' honour of the vow - More than to urge my heart's deep longing now: - For I have done as you commanded me, - And if you please it, you may go and see. - It rests with you, to let me live or die, - But that the rocks have vanish'd, well know I." - -Poor Dorigene had little expected to fall into such a trap! She stood -astonished, and her face grew white--all the colour left her cheeks. How -bitterly she repented her rash promise! for she did not want to go away -with Aurelius. "Alas!" she cried, "that such a thing should be! how could -I guess so monstrous a marvel could come to pass?" and her terror made her -like one desperate. - -Her husband, Arviragus, too, was absent, and there was no one she could -tell her trouble to. She cried and lamented for three days, vainly -thinking how she could get out of the scrape; and at last she determined -to die. So three days passed, and all the time she was weeping and -resolving on her death. - -However, on the third night, Arviragus came home again; and, when he knew -what she was weeping so bitterly for, he said, cheerfully and kindly, "Is -that all, Dorigene?" - - Is ther aught elles, Dorigen, but this? else - Nay, nay, quod sche, God me so rede and wis reads, knows - This is to moche, and it were Goddes wille! if - Ye, wyf, quod he, let slepe that may be stille,[173] - It may be wel, paraunter, yet to-day. peradventure - Ye schal your trouthe holden, by my fay, faith - For God so wisly have mercy on me, wisely - I hadde wel lever i-stekid for to be, rather, slain - For verray love which that I to you have, - But if ye scholde your trouthe kepe and save, unless - Trouthe is the hiest thing that man may kepe. - And with that word he brast anon to wepe. burst - - - "Is there aught further, Dorigene, than this?" - "Nay, nay," cried she, "God help me, for it is - Too much already--were it but His will!" - "Yea, wife," he answered, "what has been is still, - But yet, perchance, it may be well to-day. - That promise you shall hold to, by my fay, - For as I hope for mercy from on high, - I would more willingly consent to die, - Yea for the love's sake that I bear to you, - Than you should break the honour of a vow - Faith is the highest thing that can be kept." - And with that word he broke away and wept. - -Poor Arviragus, this brave and just knight, bade Dorigene keep her word at -any cost to herself or him, but he could not keep up his cheerful tone. He -was too deeply grieved and hurt, and even wept with her for sorrow. - -Then he commanded a squire and a maid to attend Dorigene for a part of the -way to the garden, where Aurelius would fetch her. - -Now, Aurelius happened to meet her on her way to the garden, in one of the -busiest streets of the town. He saluted her joyfully, and asked her -whither she was going. But Dorigene was distracted with grief. - - And sche answered, half as sche were mad, - Unto the gardyn, as myn housbond bad, - My trouthe for to holde, allas! allas! - - - And she made answer half as she were mad, - "Unto the garden, as my husband bade, - To keep my troth to you, alas! alas!" - -When Aurelius heard that, he was deeply touched that Arviragus should have -sent her, weeping as she was, rather than she should break her promise. -See how proud and how strong the sense of honour was in those days! He -felt that after such a sacrifice he would rather forego everything than -insist upon his right to take away Dorigene, which, he felt, would be -'_churlish wretchedness against fraunchise of all gentillesse_'[174]--a -deed against courtesy and honour. And he said, "Madam, say to your lord, -Arviragus, that since I see he would rather suffer anything than that you -should fail in truth, and since I see that you care far more for Arviragus -than ever you will for me--even if you went away with me, you would never -love me as much as Arviragus--I would rather be unhappy all my life than -make you so. I release you from your promise for ever." - - Thus can a squyer doon a gentil dede, do - As wel as can a knyghte, withouten drede. - - - Thus can a squire do a noble deed - As nobly as a knight can, without dread. - -Dorigene fell down on her knees and thanked him, and went back to her -husband happy, and they lived in bliss ever after. - -Aurelius, however, though his conscience was clear, bethought him of all -his trouble and the money he had spent to no purpose. He had willingly -promised all his fortune when he thought he could win beautiful Dorigene; -but now he said, "I must sell my heritage, but I cannot live here a beggar -to shame my kindred; unless the magician would be so kind as to let me pay -the thousand pounds little by little. I will not break my promise to him. -He shall have the money though I have got nothing by it." - - With herte soor he goth unto his cofre, sore - And broughte gold unto this philosophre, philosopher - The value of fyf hundred pound, I gesse, - And him bysecheth of his gentillesce, beseecheth - To graunte him dayes of the remenaunt; remnant - And sayde, Maister, I dar wel make avaunt boast - I fayled never of my trouthe as yit, - For sikerly my dettes schall be quyt surely - Towardes yow, how so that ever I fare - To goon and begge in my kurtil bare, beg, tunic - But wolde ye vouchesauf upon seurté, vouchsafe, surety - Tuo yere or thre for to respite me, - Than were I wel, for elles most I selle - Myn heritage, ther is nomore to telle. - - - With mournful heart he went unto his coffer - And took such gold as he was free to offer, - The value of five hundred pounds, I guess; - Beseeching him, of his kindheartedness, - To grant him for the rest some time to pay, - And said, "Master, I do not fear to say - I never failed to keep my word as yet; - Truly my debt to you I shall acquit, - Whatever comes--though I must needs at best - Go begging in my shirt to find the rest. - But would ye grant, on good security, - To give me credit for two years, or three, - Then all were well, for else I must needs sell - My heritage--there is no more to tell." - -The magician soberly answered, "Did I not keep my covenant with you?" - -"Yes, well and truly," said Aurelius. - -"And did you not take the lady away with you?" - -"No, no," said Aurelius, sadly; and he told him all that had happened. - -The magician answered, "Dear friend, every one of you has behaved -honourably. Thou art a squire, and he is a knight, but a simple clerk can -do a gentle deed, as well as any of you! Sir, I release you from your -thousand pounds: I will not take a penny from you." And he took his horse -and rode away. - -Chaucer winds up by saying-- - - Lordynges, this questioun wold I axe now-- ask - Which was the moste free, as thinketh yow? liberal - - - Masters, a little question answer me-- - Which one was the most generous of the three? - -And you, tell me which you think was the most honourable in keeping faith, -and most generous in giving up his rights. - -But beware of the folly that Dorigene committed, in making rash promises; -for when you make a promise you must be prepared to keep it, and cannot -always expect to be let off as she was. - - -Notes by the Way. - -One of the most interesting illustrations of the singular morality which -was the outcome of woman's transition state from a position of slavery to -one of equality with man, is to be found in this curious but beautiful -tale: a tale which in any other age could scarcely have been popular. The -Franklin tells us it was an old Breton lay; which, however, is now not -known to exist. - -It is seen that woman, from being regarded as a mere chattel, like horse -or dog, came to be unnaturally exalted; and, as new movements often -outshoot their mark and go too far, she came to be held as something -god-like and ideal, the moving spring of all heroic virtues. Valour, -courtesy, self-control, obedience, were taught by her, and she could give -no higher guerdon than herself. (See note to 'Knight's Tale,' p. 45.) - -It is the young and inexperienced hound which outruns the scent, not the -fully trained dog, and we must remember that society had then the virtues -and vices of immaturity. The Franklin's Tale, with its pathos and -earnestness, passing at times into burlesque, is as quaint and instructive -as an early effigy on some cathedral door. - -A certain soft and refined luxuriousness seems to hang like a gossamer -veil over a sentiment of genuine and vigorous chivalry, carried too far -for our 19th century notions, but, like the generous mistakes of youth, -none the less touching. - -The moral of this striking tale points out the danger of giving even the -smallest inlet to wrong dealing; since a condition apparently impossible -to realize may after all work our ruin. - - - - -The Pardoner's Tale. - - -Then mine host turned to the Pardoner: "Thou, pardoner, thou, my good -friend," he said-- - - Tel us a tale, for thou canst many oon. - It schal be doon, quod he, and that anoon. - But first, quod he, her at this ale-stake[175] - I wil bothe drynke and byten on a cake. - - - "Tell us a tale; thou knowest many an one." - "I will!" he said; "it shall at once be done. - But first," he added, "here at this ale-stake - I'll take a drink, and have a bite of cake." - -When he had done so (for they were passing a roadside inn), he began, as -you shall hear:-- - - -There was in Flanders a company of young folk, who gave themselves up to -folly and wrong-doing. They did nothing but gamble and riot, and drink -wine, and dance, and swear; and their gluttony and idleness made them -wicked, so that when they heard of other people committing sin they -laughed and did as much wrong as ever they could. - -This kind of life degrades every one. Gluttony was the first cause of our -confusion: Adam and Eve were driven from Paradise for that vice. And -drunkenness leads to many other sins, as is shown in Holy Writ. - -Three of these bad young men were sitting in a tavern one morning very -early, drinking, when they heard the clinking of a bell[176] before a -corpse that was being carried to the grave. One of them called to his boy, -"Go out, and ask who that dead man is who passes by; and mind you bring -his name back right!" - -"Master," said the boy, "there is no need to go and ask, for I heard who -the dead man was two hours before you came into this tavern. He was one of -your own companions, and he was slain last night as he sat in his chair -drinking, by a privy thief named Death, who kills everybody in this -country. With his spear he smote his heart in two, and went away without -speaking. About a thousand has he killed this pestilence.[177] And, -master, it seems to me, that before he comes to you too, it were as well -to be prepared. Beware of him, be ready for him! my dame ever taught me -that." - - By seinte Mary, sayde this taverner, innkeeper - The child saith soth, for he hath slayn this yeer, true - Hens over a myle, withinne a gret village, - Bothe man and womman, child, and hyne, and page. labourer - - - "By holy Mary," said the innkeeper, - "The child says true, for he hath slain this year, - Within a mile hence, in a large village, - Both man and woman, servant, child, and page. - -"I should think he lived there, this Death, so many have died. It were -wise to be warned before he came suddenly on a man!" - -"Good lack," cried one of the rioters with an oath, "is it then such -danger to meet him? I'll seek him out by street and stile. - - Herkneth, felaws, we thre ben all oones, hearken, be - Let ech of us hold up his hond[178] to other, hand - And ech of us bycome otheres brother; - And we wil slee this false traitour Deth; - He shall be slayne, that so many sleeth. slain, slayeth - - - "Now listen, mates, for all we three are one, - Let each hold up his hand unto the other, - And each of us become the others' brother. - And we will slay this sneaking traitor Death, - He shall be slain, he that so many slay'th." - -So these three men, half drunk as they were, plighted faith to live and -die for each other, as though they were brothers born. And up they -started, and went forth to this village, of which the innkeeper had -spoken, where they thought Death lived. And much bad language they used, -and many wicked things they said, resolving to catch Death before night -fell. - - Right as thay wolde han torned over a style, turned - Whan thai han goon nought fully half a myle, - An old man and a pore with hem mette. - This olde man ful mekely hem grette,[179] meekly, greeted - And saide thus, Lordynges, God yow se! God see you - The proudest of these ryotoures thre rioters - Answerd ayein, What, carle, with sory grace, churl - Why artow al for-wrapped save thi face?[180]-- wrapped up - Why lyvest thou longe in so great an age? - - This olde man gan loke on his visage, began, look - And saide thus: For that I can not fynde because - A man--though that I walke into Inde-- - Neither in cité noon, ne in village, - That wol chaunge his youthe for myn age; - And therfore moot I have myn age stille - As longe tyme as it is Goddes wille, - Ne Deth, allas! ne wil not have my lif, - Thus walk I lik a resteles caytif,[181] - And on the ground, which is my modres gate, - I knokke with my staf, erly and late, - And saye, Leeve moder, let me in. dear - Lo, how I wane, fleisch, and blood, and skyn-- - Allas, whan schuln my boones ben at rest? shall, bones - Moder, with yow wil I chaunge my chest, - That in my chamber longe tyme hath be, - Ye, for an haire clout[182] to wrap-in me. enwrap - But, yet to me sche wol not do that grace, favour - For which ful pale and welkid is my face. withered - - But sires, to yow it is no curtesye - To speke unto an old man vilonye, - But he trespas in word or elles in dede. unless, else - In holy writ ye may yourself wel rede, read - Ayens an old man, hoor upon his hede, in presence of - Ye schold arise: wherefor I you rede exhort - Ne doth unto an old man more harm now, do not - Namore than ye wolde men dede to yow - In age, if that ye may so long abyde. live so long - And God be with you, wherso ye go or ryde! walk - I moot go thider as I have to goo. thither - - Nay, olde cherl, by God thou shalt not so, - Sayde that other hasardour anoon, - Thou partist nought so lightly, by seint Johan! departest, easily - Thou spak right now of thilke traitour Deth, - That in this contré alle our frendes sleth; - Have her my trouth, as thou art his aspye; here - Tel wher he is, or elles thou schalt dye.[183] - - - Just as they were about to cross a stile, - When they had gone not fully half a mile, - A poor and aged man did meet them there. - This old man greeted them with civil air, - And said, "Good day, my lords, God look on ye." - Then the most arrogant of the noisy three - Answered him thus--"What, churl, with sorry grace, - Why art thou all wrapped up except thy face? - Why livest thou so long, and art so grey?" - - The old man looked him in the face straightway, - And answer'd thus: "Because I cannot find - A man--e'en though I walk'd as far as Inde-- - Neither in any city, nor villàge, - Willing to change his youth for mine old age; - And therefore must I have my old age still - As long a time as it is heaven's will. - Nor will e'en Death receive my life, alas! - Thus like a restless wayfarer I pass, - And on the ground, which is my mother's gate, - Keep knocking with my staff early and late, - And say to her--'Dear mother, let me in. - Lo, how I vanish, flesh and blood and skin-- - Alas, when shall my bones remain at rest? - Mother, I want to change with you my chest, - Which in my room so long a time hath been, - Yea, for a cloth of hair to wrap me in!' - But yet to me she will not do that grace, - Wherefore so pale and wrinkled is my face. - - "But, sirs, in you it is no courtesy - To speak to an old man disdainfully, - Unless he shall offend in word or deed. - In Holy Writ ye may your own selves read, - Before an aged man whose hair is grey - Ye should rise up--and therefore I you pray - Offer to an old man no mischief now - More than you would that men did unto you - In your old age, if you so long abide, - And God be with you, whither you walk or ride! - I must go on, whither I have to go." - - "Nay, thou old churl, thou shalt not quit us so." - Cried out the other rioter anon, - "Thou partest not so lightly, by St. John! - Thou hast just spoken of that traitor Death - Who all our friends through all the country slay'th, - So now I warrant thee, thou art his spy; - Tell where he is, this Death, or thou shall die. - -"You needn't deny that you know of his whereabouts--for you are in his -plot to get rid of us young folks, you wretched old thief!" - - Now, sires, than if that yow be so leef - To fynde Deth, torn up this croked way, - For in that grove I laft him,[184] by my fay, - Under a tree, and ther he wil abyde. remain - Ne for your bost he nyl him no thing hyde. boast - Se ye that ook? right ther ye schuln him fynde. - God save yow, that bought agein mankynde, again - And yow amend. Thus sayth this olde man, - - And everich of these riotoures ran, every one - Til thay come to the tre, and ther thay founde - Of florins fyn of gold ycoyned rounde, coined - Wel neygh a seven busshels, as hem thoughte. - No lenger thanne after Deth thay soughte, - But ech of hem so glad was of that sighte, - For that the florens so faire were and brighte, - That doun thai sette hem by the precious hord. - The werste[185] of hem he spake the firste word. - Bretheren, quod he, take kepe what I schal saye, - My witte is gret, though that I bourde and playe, wisdom, jest - This tresour hath fortune to us yiven, given - In mirth and jolyté our lif to lyven, jollity, live - And lightly as it comth, so wil we spende. cometh - Ey, Goddis precious dignite, who wende supposed - Today, that we schuld have so fair a grace? - But mighte this gold be caried fro this place - Hom to myn hous, or ellis unto youres, - (For wel I wot that this gold is nought oures), know - Than were we in heyh felicité. high - But trewely by day it may not be, - Men wolde saye that we were theves stronge, - And for our tresour doon us for to honge. have us hanged - This tresour moste caried be by nighte - As wysly and as slely as it mighte. - Wherfore I rede, that cut among us alle advise - We drawe, and let se wher the cut wil falle, - And he that hath the cut, with herte blithe, blithe heart - Shal renne to the toun, and that ful swithe, run, quickly - And bring us bred and wyn ful prively, - And tuo of us shal kepe subtilly - This tresour wel: and if he wol not tarie, delay - Whan it is night, we wol this tresour carie,[186] - By oon assent, ther as us liketh best. wither - - That oon of hem the cut brought in his fest, fist - And bad hem drawe and loke wher it wil falle, look - And it fel on the yongest of hem alle, - And forth toward the toun he went anoon. at once - - And al so soone as that he was agoon, - That oon of hem spak thus unto that other: - Thou wost wel that thou art my sworne brother, - Thy profyt wol I telle the anoon. directly - Thou wost wel that our felaw is agoon, knowest - And her is gold, and that ful gret plente, plenty - That schal departed be among us thre. - But natheles if I can schape it so - That it departed were betwix us tuo, - Hadde I not doon a frendes torn to the? - - That other answerd, I not how that may be; know not - He wot wel that the gold is with us twaye, two - What schulde we than do? what schulde we saye? say - Schal it be counsail?[187] sayd the ferste schrewe, wicked person - And I schal telle thee in wordes fewe - What we schul doon, and bringe it wel aboute. do - I graunte, quod that other, without doute, - That by my trouthe I wil thee nought bywraye. betray - - Now, quoth the first, thou wost wel we ben twaye, knowest - And two of us schal strenger be than oon. - Loke, whanne he is sett, thou right anoon[188] look - Arys, as though thou woldest with him pleye,[189] wouldest - And I schal ryf him through the sydes tweye, rip - Whils that thou strogelest with him as in game, - And with thi dagger, loke thou do the same. - And than schal al the gold departed be, divided - My dere frend, bitwixe the and me: thee - Than may we oure lustes al fulfille, might - And pley at dees right at our owne wille. dice - - - "Now, sirs," quoth he, "if you so eager be - To seek for Death, turn up this crooked way, - For in that grove I left him, by my fay, - Under a tree, and there he will abide, - Nor for your noise and boasting will he hide. - See ye that oak? close there his place you'll find, - God save you, sirs, that hath redeem'd mankind, - And mend you all"--thus said the aged man. - - And thereupon each of the rioters ran - Until they reach'd the tree, and there they found - A heap of golden florins, bright and round, - Well-nigh seven bushels of them, as they thought. - And then no longer after Death they sought, - But each of them so glad was at the sight, - The florins were so beauteous and so bright, - That down they sat beside the precious hoard. - The worst one was the first to speak a word. - "Brothers," said he, "take heed of what I say, - For I am wise, although I jest and play, - This treasure makes our fortune, so that we - May lead our lives in mirth and jollity, - And lightly as it comes, we'll lightly spend. - By heaven! who would have thought that luck would send - Us three good friends to-day so fair a grace? - But could this gold be carried from this place - Home to my house, or else to one of yours - (For all this gold I well know is not ours) - Then were we in complete felicity. - But, truly, during day it cannot be, - People would call us thieves, and possibly - Hang us for our own treasure on a tree. - This treasure should be carried off by night, - As cleverly and slily as it might. - I counsel then, that we among us all - Draw lots, and see to whom the lot will fall, - And he that hath the lot shall cheerfully - Go back into the town, and speedily, - And bring us bread and wine full privily; - Meanwhile we two keep safe and secretly - This treasure here: and if he do not tarry, - When the night comes we will the treasure carry, - By one assent, where we think best, or list." - - This man then held the lots within his fist, - And bade them draw and see where it would fall; - It fell upon the youngest of them all, - Who therefore toward the town went forth anon. - - As soon as their companion was gone - The first one subtly spoke unto the other: - "Thou knowest well that thou art my sworn brother, - I'll tell thee what thy profit is to-day. - Thou seest that our fellow is away, - And here is gold, all heap'd up plenteously, - Which is to be divided 'mong us three. - But, nevertheless, if I can shape it so - That it might be divided 'mong us _two_, - Have I not done a friend's turn unto thee?" - - "I know not," said the other, "how that may be; - He knows quite well the gold is with us two, - What should we say to him? what should we do?" - "Shall it be counsel?" said the first again-- - "And in a few words I shall tell thee plain, - What we shall do to bring the thing about." - "I promise," said the other, "without doubt - That I, for one, will not be treacherous." - - "Now," said the first one, "there are two of us, - And two of us will stronger be than one. - Look, thou, when he is sitting down, and soon - Rise up, as if to play with him, and I - Will stab him through the two sides suddenly, - While thou art struggling with him as in game, - And with thy dagger, look, thou do the same. - And then shall all this gold divided be, - My dearest friend, betwixt thyself and me: - Then all our wants and whims we can fulfil, - And play at dice according to our will." - -[Illustration: THE RIOTER. - - 'For this witterly was his ful entente-- - To slen hem bothe and never to repente.'] - -Thus these two ruffians made their compact to murder the third, as I have -described. - - This yongest, which that wente to the toun, who - Full fast in hert he rollith up and doun close - The beaute of these florins, newe and brighte. - O Lord, quoth he, if so were that I mighte - Have all this gold unto myself alloone, - Ther is no man that lyveth under the troone throne - Of God, that schulde lyve so mery as I. - And atte last the feend, oure enemy, - Put in his thought that he schulde poysoun beye, buy - With which he mighte sle his felawes tweye. slay - For why? the feend fond him in such lyvynge - That he hadde leve to sorwe him to brynge: sorrow - For this was outrely[190] his ful entente - To slen hem bothe, and never to repente. slay - And forth he goth, no lenger wold he tarye, delay - Into the toun unto a potecarye, apothecary - And prayde him that he him wolde selle - Som poysoun, that he might his rattis quelle; rats - And eek ther was a polkat in his hawe farmyard - That, as he sayde, his capouns had i-slawe, - And said he wold him wreke, if that he mighte, avenge - Of vermyn, that destroyed hem by nighte. - - Thapotecary answerd,[191]Thou schalt have the apothecary - A thing that, also God my soule save, - In al this world ther nys no creature - That ete or dronk hath of this confecture-- mixture - Nought but the mountaunce of a corn of whete-- amount - That he ne schuld his lif anoon for-lete; quit - Ye, sterve he schal, and that in lasse while die - Than thou wilt goon a paas not but a myle, step - This poysoun is so strong and violent. - - This cursed man hath in his hond i-hent caught or taken - This poysoun in a box, and sins he ran then - Into the nexte stret unto a man - And borwed of him large boteles thre, - And in the two his poysoun poured he: - The thrid he kepede clene for his drynke, third, clean - For al the night he schop him for to swynke prepared, labour - In carying of the gold out of that place. - And whan this riotour, with sorry grace, rioter - Hath fillid with wyn his grete botels thre, - To his felaws ayein repaireth he. again - - What nedith it therof to sermoun more? sermonize - For right as they hadde cast[192] his deth bifore, arranged - Right so thay han him slayn, and that anoon. have - And whan this was i-doon, thus spak that oon: spake, one - Now let us drynke and sitte, and make us mery, - And afterwards[193] we wil his body bery. will - And with that word[193] it happed him _par cas_ by chance - To take the botel ther the poysoun was, wherein - And drank, and yaf his felaw drink also, gave - For which anon thay stervede bothe two. soon, died - But certes I suppose that Avycen[194] certainly - Wrot never in _canoun_, ne in non _fen_, wrote - Mo wonder sorwes of empoisonyng wondrous pangs - Than hadde these wrecches tuo or here endyng. - Thus endid been these homicides tuo, be - And eek the fals empoysoner also. also - - - The youngest, who had gone into the town, - Deep in his mind he turneth up and down - The beauty of these florins, new and bright. - "O Lord," quoth he, "if any-wise I might - Have all this treasure to myself alone, - There is no man that dwelleth under the throne - Of God, who then should live so merry as I." - And at the last the fiend, our enemy, - Put in his thought that he should poison buy, - With which to cause his comrades both to die. - For why? the fiend found this man's life so foul - That he had power now upon his soul: - For this was utterly his fix'd intent - To slay them both and never to repent - And forth he goes, no longer would he tarry, - Into the town to an apothecary, - And begged him plausibly that he would sell - Him poison strong enough the rats to quell; - Also, there was a polecat in his yard - Which had destroy'd his capons, he averr'd, - And he would gladly rid him if he might - Of vermin, which destroy'd them in the night. - - The apothecary answered, "Thou shalt have - Something so strong, as God my soul shall save, - That in this world nothing that living is - Who in his food doth eat or drink of this-- - Nay, but the greatness of a grain of wheat-- - Shall fail to die, his life shall be forfeit; - Yea, he shall die, and that in lesser while - Than thou shalt walk a step beyond a mile, - This poison is so strong and violent." - - This curséd man hath taken it and pent - The poison in a box, and forthwith ran - Hastily to the next street, to a man - And borrow'd of him some large bottles three, - And into two the poison pouréd he: - The third he kept untainted for himself, - Meaning to toil at carrying his pelf - From out that cursed place the whole night long. - And when this villain, bent on doing wrong, - Had filled his three great bottles up with wine, - Back to his mates he went, as if to dine. - - What need is there of saying any more? - For as they had devised his death before, - E'en so they slew him, and with brief delay. - And when the deed was done, the first did say, - "Now let us sit and drink, and make us merry, - And afterwards we will his body bury." - And speaking thus, he chanced, upon the minute, - To take a bottle which had poison in it, - And drank, and gave his fellow drink beside, - Whereby within a little space they died. - But truly I suppose that Avicen - Did ne'er describe in _canon_ or in _fen_ - More frightful pains of deadly poisoning, - Than these two wretches felt in perishing. - Thus ended both the wicked homicides, - And that false-hearted poisoner besides. - - -Notes by the Way. - -During the 12th, 13th, and 14th centuries the passion for gambling had -spread from the highest to the very lowest class of the population. The -practice of men drinking and playing themselves bare in the taverns, where -both vices were encouraged by the taverners, was common enough to provoke -numberless censures and caricatures, so much so that it is a mercy Sir -Wilfrid Lawson was spared the spectacle. The Pardoner's Tale is one of the -list. - -The taverns were the resort of all the refuse of the people: the taverners -found it suited them to act as pawnbrokers, advancing money on the clothes -and property of the ne'er-do-wells who lacked cash to stake or to pay; and -provided other attractions whereby men were tempted to various vices, and -robbed during their drunken sleep. The language of these young rascals of -both sexes is graphically condemned by the Pardoner; and gluttony is -pointed out as the root of all evil, for which Adam fell. - -Hazard was the game with which our rioters strove to 'drive away the day.' -Mr. Wright, speaking of the use of dice, tells us, "In its simpler form, -that of the game of hazard, in which the chance of each player rested on -the mere throw of the dice, it was the common game of the low frequenters -of the taverns--that class which lived upon the vices of society, and -which was hardly looked upon as belonging to society itself." Men staked -all they possessed, to the very clothes on their backs, on one cast. - -Chaucer tells us contemptuously how the King of Parthia sent a pair of -golden dice to King Demetrius in scorn, knowing he was a player, to -express that he held his glory and renown at no value, being liable to -disappear at any moment. - -The three rioters were probably young men who had ruined themselves by -folly and licence, and whose besetting sin, surviving all it throve on, -urged them to any and every crime for the sake of renewed gratification. -Their end is beyond measure frightful. _For why?--The fiend found him in -such living that he had leave to bring him to grief_, says the severe old -moralist. - -The extreme beauty of this poem, even in a technical sense alone, is such -that I lament the necessity of abridging it. - - - - -MINOR POEMS. - - -Complaint of Chaucer to his Purse. - - To yow, my purse, and to noon other wight, no one else - Complayn I, for ye be my lady dere; - I am so sorry now that ye been lyght,[195] - For certes, but-yf ye make me heavy cheer if - Me were as leef be layde upon my bere, I were - For whiche unto your mercy thus I crye-- - Beeth hevy ageyne, or elles mote I dye! be thou - - Now voucheth sauf this day, or hyt be nyghte, vouchsafe before - That I of yow the blissful soune may here, sound - Or se your colour lyke the sunne bryghte, - That of yelownesse hadde never pere! rival - Ye be my lyfe! ye be myn hertys stere! rudder - Quene of comfort and goode companye, - Beth hevy ayeyne, or elles moote I die! - - Now, purse, that ben to me my lyves lyghte, life's - And saveour as doun in this worlde here, saviour - Oute of this toune helpe me thurgh your myght, - Syn that ye wole nat bene my tresorere,[196] since, treasurer - For I am shave[197] as nye as is a frere. nigh - But I pray unto youre courtesye, - Bethe hevy ayeyn, or elles moote I dye! - - - To you, my purse, and to no other wight, - Complain I, for you are my lady dear; - I am so sorry now that you are light, - For truly if you make me heavy cheer - I would as lief be laid upon my bier. - Therefore unto your mercy thus I cry-- - Be heavy again, or else I needs must die! - - I prithee grant this day, ere it be night, - That I once more your merry voice may hear, - Or see your colour like the sunshine bright, - Whereof the yellowness had never peer! - You are my life, and you my heart shall steer; - Queen of all comfort and good company, - Be heavy again, or else I needs must die! - - Now, purse, who are to me my life, my light, - And chief deliverer in this world here, - Out of this city help me, by your might, - If you no more will be my treasure dear, - For I am shaved as close as any frere. - But I beseech you of your courtesy, - Be heavy again, or else I needs must die! - - -Two Rondeaux. - - Youre two eyn will sle me sodenly, slay - I may the beauté of them not sustene, sustain - So wendeth it thorow-out my herte kene. goeth - - And but your wordes will helen hastely - My hertis wound, while that it is grene, - Youre two eyn will sle me sodenly, &c. - - Upon my trouth I say yow feithfully tell - That ye ben of my liffe and deth the quene, are - For with my deth the trouth shal be i-sene - Youre two eyn, &c. - - - Your fair two eyes will slay me suddenly, - I know not how to bear their beauty's sheen, - It pierceth all my heart athrough so keen. - - And if your words heal not full speedily - My heart's deep wound, while still the wound is green, - Your fair two eyes will slay me suddenly, - I know not how to bear their beauty's sheen, - It pierceth all my heart athrough so keen. - - Upon my faith I tell you faithfully - Both of my life and death you are the queen, - For in my dying shall the truth be seen. - Your fair two eyes will slay me suddenly, - I know not how to bear their beauty's sheen - It pierceth all my heart athrough so keen. - - - Syn I, fro Love escaped, am so fat, - I nere thinke to ben in his prison lene:[198] taken - Syn I am fre, I counte him not a bene. since, free - - He may answere and seye this and that: - I do no fors, I speak ryght as I mene: I care not - Syn I fro Love escaped am so fat. - - Love hath my name i-strike out of his sclat, struck, slate - And he is strike out of my bokes clene books - For evermo, there is none other mene. means - Syn I fro Love, &c. - - - Since I escaped from love, I am so fat, - No more I shall his captive be so lean: - Since I am free, I count him not a bean! - - He may reply, and answer this and that: - I care not, for I speak but as I mean: - Since I from love escaped, I am so fat! - - My name--out of his slate Love striketh that. - And he is struck out of my books as clean - For evermore, there is no way between! - Since I escaped, etc. - - -Virelai. - - Alone walkyng, - In thought pleynyng mourning - And sore syghyng, - Al desolate, - Me remembryng remembering - Of my lyvyng, my way of living - My deth wyshyng wishing - Bothe erly and late. - - Infortunate unfortunate - Is soo my fate so - That, wote ye whate? - Oute of mesure beyond measure - My lyfe I hate, - Thus, desperate, - In suche pore estate poor - Do I endure. remain - - Of other cure - Am I nat sure; not - Thus to endure - Ys hard, certayn! - Suche ys my ure, use - I yow ensure: assure - What creature - May have more payn? - - My trouth so pleyn truth - Ys take in veyn, taken - And gret disdeyn - In remembraunce; remembrance - Yet I ful feyn gladly - Wolde me compleyn, - Me to absteyn to avoid - From thys penaunce. penance - - But, in substaunce, substance - None allegeaunce alleviation - Of my grevaunce grievance - Can I nat fynd; not - - Ryght so my chaunce - With displesaunce displeasure - Doth me avaunce; advance - And thus an end. - - - Alone walk I, - With many a sigh - In secrecy, - All desolate, - And still review - My life anew: - For death I sue - Both early and late. - - My fate doth grow - So luckless now - That--do you know? - Beyond all telling - My life I hate: - Thus, desperate, - In woeful state - I still am dwelling. - - I am not sure - Of any cure; - 'Tis hard t' endure - With no relief! - But certain 'tis, - My state is this: - What thing that is - Could have more grief? - - My story plain - Is taken in vain, - With great disdain - In recollection; - Yet I would fain - Alway complain, - To shun the pain - Of this correction! - - For which find I, - Substantially, - No remedy, - My lot to mend; - - So fate, I see, - Still draws on me - More enmity-- - And there's an end! - - -Notes by the Way. - -Chaucer's 'Complaint to his Purse' was written, according to Mr. -Furnivall, in September, 1399, when Chaucer was in distress for money, and -sent to Henry IV. as a broad hint,--which was at once attended to. - -It is a very clever piece of versification, like the 'Good Counsel,' &c., -each line rhyming with the corresponding line in the other verses. He -addresses his hapless purse as though it were his lady-love, and comically -entreats her mercy, when he sees her inclined to be 'light.' - -Mr. Furnivall's ingenious suggestion, that Chaucer's penury may possibly -be due to his having dabbled in alchemy (an empirical branch of -chemistry), is borne out by the technical knowledge displayed in the -Canon's Yeoman's Tale. - -We may add here--to defend our great man's character--that alchemy was -believed in by many men of exceptional mental power. Roger Bacon, -discoverer of gunpowder and the magnifying glass, is perhaps the greatest -name among them; and vain as seemed much of their toil with crucibles and -furnaces, alembics and aludels, we owe a great deal to the first -meritorious alchemists, who really paved the way to modern chemistry. - -There is no reason to suppose Chaucer had any vice likely to affect his -pocket; but alchemy was the scientific mania of the day, and high and low -were ready to risk fortune and health in pursuit of the philosopher's -stone, the elixir of life, the way to manufacture gold. And, at the same -time, there is no other sufficient reason for the extreme poverty which -the poet had fallen into. - -The two Roundels and the Virelai have been asserted and denied to be the -work of Chaucer, but there is no clear evidence for either side. They may -well be a portion of those many lost 'ditties and songs glad' with which -Gower said 'the land fulfilled is over all,' written 'in the floures of -his youth.' The second Roundel seems, on the other hand, to belong to his -later life, when he so often alluded to his corpulence. As to the Virelai, -this species of lyric was nery fashionable in Chaucer's time. It is -skilful work, each stanza rhyming six lines together (which I have failed -to follow in the translation). - - -Good Counsel of Chaucer. - - Fle fro the pres, and duelle with sothfastnesse, mob, honesty - Suffice the thy good, though hit be smale, thee, it - For horde hath hate, and clymbyng tikelnesse, hoards, - uncertainty - Pres hath envye, and wele is blent over alle. deceived - everywhere - Savour no more then the behove shalle; taste - Rede[199] well thy self, that other folke canst rede, - And trouthe the shal delyver, hit ys no drede. without fear - - Peyne the not eche croked to redresse, - In trust of hire that turneth as a balle,[200] - Grete rest stant in lytel besynesse. great peace lies, - meddling - Bewar also to spurne ayein an nalle,[201] awl - Stryve not as doth a croke[202] with a walle: crock - Deme[203] thyselfe that demest others dede, - And trouthe the shal delyver, hit ys no drede. - - That the ys sent receyve in buxomnesse, - The wrasteling of this world asketh a falle; - Her is no home, her is but wyldyrnesse. here - Forth, pilgrime!--forth, best, out of thy stalle! beast - Loke up on hye, and thonke God of alle! - Weyve thy lust, and let thy goste the lede, give up, desire - And trouthe shal the delyver, hit ys no drede. - - - Fly from the crowd, and dwell with truthfulness - Contented with thy good, though it be small; - Treasure breeds hate, and climbing dizziness, - The world is envious, wealth beguiles us all. - Care not for loftier things than to thee fall; - Counsel thyself, who counsel'st others' need, - And truth thee shall deliver, without dread. - - Pain thee not all the crooked to redress, - Trusting to her who turneth as a ball, - For little meddling wins much easiness. - Beware lest thou do kick against an awl, - Strive not as doth a clay pot with a wall: - Judge thou thyself, who judgest others' deed, - And truth thee shall deliver, without dread. - - All that is given take with cheerfulness, - To wrestle in this world is to ask a fall; - Here is no home, here is but wilderness. - Forth, pilgrim, forth!--forth, beast, out of thy stall! - Look up on high, and thank thy God for all! - Cast by ambition, let thy soul thee led, - And truth thee shall deliver, without dread. - - -Notes by the Way. - -We have Mr. F. J. Furnivall's authority, as well as internal evidence, for -believing that this pathetic little poem expresses Chaucer's feelings at -the time of his expulsion from the Customs offices, the beginning of his -period of misfortunes, and was written immediately after the calamity. We -seem to gather scattered hints of recent 'wrestlings' before the blow -came--vain attempts to elevate, and purify, and carry out reforms, to make -straight crooked paths. Lost labour--_pain thee not all the crooked to -redress!_--trusting to fortune (money being requisite to reform): for -those who value peace of mind should let sleeping dogs lie. We seem to -catch the echoes of stormy times, of personal recrimination, envy, hatred, -and malice, against a 'climbing' man, protected by Court favour for many -prosperous years, but at length within the reach of foes when that -protection waxed powerless. Chaucer may, like many another man, have made -no enemies till he was high enough to stand in some one's light, -prosperous enough to be dangerous; but his month of power in Parliament -ruined him. It is pretty certain that some vote of his, while sitting for -Kent, caused his dismissal from office. It was a case of win all or lose -all, and he lost. To fight against such odds were as idle as undignified: -surely, indeed, but courting worse injuries, 'kicking against an awl.' -When the weak and the strong strive together, it is the weak who suffers. -The criticism upon others, which had failed to do good, were now best -turned philosophically upon himself. That which the fountain gave forth -returns again to the fountain, as a poet 500 years later has said. It is -impossible, in reading these melancholy and stately lines, not to feel -that they ring true, and betray the half-sarcastic disappointment of a -well-meaning man, the resignation of a religious man, and the faith in -right-dealing bringing its own reward of a thoroughly honest man. - -It is probable that the loss to Chaucer in a pecuniary sense was very -severe; and the suddenness of the blow may account for much of his after -poverty.[204] The loss may have come at a time when he had debts which it -would be very hard to pay out of a diminished income--debts which may have -hampered his whole after-life. His appointment of a deputy to the office -of Clerk of the King's Works, in 1391, and his subsequent resignation of -the office, appear to me to hint at ill-health, as may his death a year -after getting his lease for fifty-three years of the tenement in -Westminster, where he died. - -The last verse of this poem is the most remarkable of the three. Full of -just contempt for his enemies' aspersions, and of hearty trust in the -power of truth to set things right, he rises suddenly into a passion of -aspiration. Trying to be content with adversity, he is angry with himself -for feeling it so deeply. To wrestle in this world is but courting an -overthrow. But this is not our Home, this is but a desert leading to a -higher state. Forth, pilgrim! gird up thy loins with fresh vigour to -journey on. Forth, pilgrim! _forth, beast, out of the stall_ of narrow -hopes and interests! look higher, and thank thy God for all. To cast by -all the soul's lets and hindrances--to be led by the higher self--that is -the pilgrim's longing, and that is the sublimest hope of the human heart. - - - - -NOTES ON THE PICTURES. - - -I.--FRONTISPIECE. - -The costumes of the Knight, Squire, Prioress and Nun, Monk, Friar, Clerk -(represented by Chaucer himself), Franklin, the Wife of Bath, the -Summoner, and his friend the smart Pardoner, Mine Host and the boy, have -been respectively studied from MSS. of the period. The attire of the -Knight is open to criticism, for the amount of armour he wears is -certainly more than he need wear on so peaceful an errand; but a portion -of his well-used plate may be permitted him if only to distinguish the man -of war from the numerous men of peace in the train. - -The chain-mail, worn under the plate, would, I think, most probably have -been retained by the Knight during his pilgrimage. The numerous miniatures -of mailed knights journeying for no sinister purpose, appear to me to -prove that it was very constantly worn. Unlike the mail which preceded it, -the Asiatic kind which came into use in the twelfth century was -comparatively light, being formed of slight rings interlaced, and not -riveted upon leather. The hood of mail, which hangs on his shoulders, -would have been no inconvenience at all. It joined the habergeon of mail, -over which was his gipon, 'stained,' probably, by the rubbing of his -mailed arms. - -If, however, it be objected that the gipon was often an under garment -(_vide_ Meyrick, vol. ii. pp. 20 and 21), we may suppose him to have left -a heavy hauberk of plate behind him in London 'till called for.' - -Prioresses and nuns are often depicted in violet, in the contemporary -MSS.; I therefore preferred that colour as more agreeable than black. -Gloves such as the Nun's, were occasionally worn in the fourteenth -century; the present example is taken from the effigy of William of -Colchester, Abbot of Westminster, d. 1420. Gloves of fur, for winter wear, -were common in the reign of Henry III. - -The harness of the horses, bells and saddles, the Nun's chest, the -Summoner's cake (probably ornamental gingerbread), and other details, have -also been carefully studied from MSS. and tapestries of the time. - -The boy's whip is taken from several fourteenth century and earlier -drawings of horse-whips and whips for tops, and was therefore probably a -common form. - -The distant city is not necessarily London, as I failed to find a -contemporary view of old London. The present sketch is borrowed from a -fine MS. of Lydgate's poem, the 'Storie of Thebes' (MS. Reg. 18 D. ii.), -and gives a good notion of the general look of a mediæval town. - -Chaucer's portrait here was originally from the painting in the Harl. MS. -4866. I have no excuse to offer for changing the colour of Chaucer's gown -from the grey or black in which Occleve always represented him to green, a -very common colour at the time, except that it looked better in the -picture, and we have no right to assume that Chaucer, even in his poorest -days, had only one gown. - - -II.--DINNER IN THE OLDEN TIME. - -The ordinary dinner-table or 'festive _board_' in a Franklin's or -burgher's house has been taken from numerous fourteenth century -illustrations. (_Vide_ MS. Reg. 2 B. viii., and MS. Imp. Lib. Paris, No. -7210, &c.) - -The carver, cupbearer, the fishbones left on the table in the absence of -plates, the trenchers or slices of stale bread or buns used in lieu of -them, and the other objects upon the table, are faithful copies from the -MSS. - -A minstrel was constantly employed to make music during the repast. The -instrument here introduced is the cittern, played with or without a -plectrum or quill. Behind are the servitors bringing in a pasty, some -small birds on spits, and the nef or ship, containing salt, liqueurs, -spices, or towel, &c., for washing the hands--or, if you like, it is a -_sotelté_ in the form of a ship. A subtlety was an ornamental dish that -usually closed each course, made in some fanciful form, such as a castle, -ship, or animal. - -The dogs are munching the waste victuals under the table--such dogs being -usually admitted during meals. - -The pattern on the tablecloth is derived from a hunting-horn of the -fourteenth century. - -The peculiar folds at the sides of the tablecloth, which appear in many -MSS., must, I think, have been purposely made for ornament, as we -sometimes still see waiters crease cloths in various devices. - -The sweet herbs strewn on the floor denote summer-time, in -contradistinction to straw, which was used in the winter. - - -III.--LADY CROSSING STREET. - -The background of shops and other buildings is borrowed mainly from the -decapitation of G. de Pommiers at Bordeaux in 1377 (Froissart's Chronicle, -No. 2644, Bibl. Imp. de Paris). - -The costumes are those of middle-class persons. The clogs were in vogue -with the long-toed boots. - -Some of the streets were paved with large round stones, as in many French -towns at the present day; others were not paved at all, and were, during -wet weather, many feet deep with mud. An open channel or sewer ran along -the midroad, which did not greatly add to the felicity of 'a walk down -Fleet Street.' - - -IV.--FAIR EMELYE. - -Emelye's garb is that common to the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries--a -simple form with double sleeves. It will be remembered that Palamon -mistook Emelye at first sight for a goddess; Arcite perceived her to be -human. I have endeavoured to give the two men's views of her--each quite -possible according to her position in the garden. Palamon may have caught -sight of her just at a turn where the dazzle of sunrise behind the tree -would be certain to lend a kind of halo to the outline of a head against -it. An instant afterwards Emelye may have moved aside, the false halo -disappearing, and she would seem what she truly was, simply an attractive -maiden. - -It is disappointing to find how very few were the flowers that adorned a -mediæval garden. Our handsomest flowers were of course unknown--_e.g._, -the immense catalogue of plants introduced from America and elsewhere. -Many that 'have had their day and ceased to be' in fashion, were as yet -unknown too; such as the sunflower, which was imported about the sixteenth -century. The red and white may, the dogrose, primrose, and the flowers -that we banish to the kitchen garden or admire only in the fields, formed -the chief ornaments. We find nettles and nightshade reckoned among garden -plants; the dandelion, which appears in the place of honour in many old -tapestries, was then counted as a flower. - -The big round tower is one of the chain of fortresses linked by a solid -wall running around the domain, from one of which the captive knights saw -Emelye, her garden being within the walls, and, as the castle was -generally built on an eminence, on higher ground than the flat country -beyond. - -Shining yellow in the sun-rise light is a conventional view of a city--the -city of Athens, which Palamon and Arcite could see from their prison -window. - - -V.--GRISELDA'S MARRIAGE. - -The huts where poor persons lived were, of course, very rude, and lacked -windows, doors, or chimneys. Orifices in the roof or sides served these -purposes. The dirt from the smoke upon walls and ceiling was consequently -considerable. The draught beasts dwelt with their owners, much as the -Hibernian pig resides with Pat and his family. - -The hairy hat surmounting the hood came into use during the fourteenth -century, and was made of skins, dressed fur outward. - -Griselda's raggedness must not be construed into slovenliness. Needles -were not as accessible to the mass of the poor as they are now; and -moreover, the poor not being then compulsorily educated, an honest, -industrious girl who could work in the fields and spin, was not always -able to darn. - - -VI.--GRISELDA'S BEREAVEMENT. - -It is expressly stated that when her child was taken from her Griselda -controlled her feelings, and did not so much as sigh. The sergeant finds -her in her chamber, or bower, more private than the hall, and more -luxuriously furnished. She is sitting in one of the high-backed chairs -which usually stood near the bed's head (_vide_ various fourteenth century -MSS.)--possibly a _Prie-Dieu_--raised on a dais. - -Her dress is simple, but that of the upper classes in Edward III.'s reign, -lined with vair, and having long tippets from the sleeves knotted for -convenience; her hair adorned with 'bends' or silken straps, and a gold -head-dress. Her distaff is still at hand, and the full basket betokens her -continued industry. Floor-carpets or mats, embroidered or woven, were rare -at this time, and could only have been in use in a wealthy house; but they -are occasionally spoken of in early MSS. In 'Gautier d'Aupais' an old lady -is described as sitting on a richly-worked counterpoint, by a coal fire; -but this may have been a cloth flung over a chair; and in the romance of -'Queen Berthe' three persons are said to sit on carpets (_sur les tapis_). - -It will be remembered that the dagger was frequently used with the left -hand. - - -VII.--DORIGEN AND AURELIUS. - -The parti-coloured dress worn by Aurelius, similar to the Squire's in the -frontispiece, was common in Edward III.'s reign, and was peculiarly -obnoxious to the satirists of the day. The cote-hardie or close-fitting -tunic sometimes matched in colour one of the legs, sometimes was divided -into halves of opposing colours; the shoes were very rich and of contrary -hues also. - -The ladies' gowns were long and of very rich materials, the arms bound -with gold, and further adorned by fantastic streamers or tippets. Chess -was the fashionable pastime of old and young. The pieces in this picture -are from some ivory Icelandic chessmen of the twelfth century. - -Behind is the lawn where Dorigen's _meinie_, or pages and household -attendants, are amusing themselves with dancing and ball-playing among the -enclosed flower-beds peculiar to the mediæval pleasure-garden. - -The coat of arms repeated upon Aurelius' dress is that attributed to -Chaucer. The instrument, on which he doubtless accompanied his mournful -love-songs, is a form of cittern. The carved design upon the settle or -seat is Anglo-Saxon; the _fleur de lys_ on the curtain of the tent beside -them was a common ornament. - -I have not been able to discover at what precise date 'shot' materials -came into use. There are many singular terms applied to the colours of -dress throughout the middle ages, such as _pourpre-gris_, -_ecarlate-blanche_, &c. In the 'Fabliau de Gautier d'Aupais' there is -mention of '_un vert mantel porprine_' (a mantle of green crimson). In my -own mind I am persuaded that these terms, explicable easily in no other -way, refer to shot materials. Mediæval miniatures and pictures also bear -out this theory, dresses being depicted of certain colours shaded with -certain others in strong contrast. The commonest is blue or red shaded -with gold. There have been many conjectures with regard to the above -terms. M. le Grand supposes that rare dyes, being chiefly used to dye rich -cloths, gave at last their names to those cloths, irrespective of colour. -The _Saturday Review_ once accused the old masters of "sporting with -pigments prismatically" when they used red as the shadow of green, &c., -oblivious of the fact that if the early masters had a fault it was -adhering too blindly to nature in their works. It is clear that in Quentin -Matsys' day (fifteenth century) shot materials were quite common, for -there is scarcely one of his pictures without a study of the kind. In his -'Dead Christ' at Antwerp several unmistakable examples occur; in his -'Virgin' at Amsterdam is introduced a curtain of green and brown shot. -This being so, we have no reasonable ground for believing that shot silks, -though not yet common, were unknown a century earlier. - -I have therefore given two marked examples of similar silks, in the robes -of Griselda and Dorigen, both wealthy enough to import such fabrics if in -existence at all. - - -VIII.--THE RIOTER. - -The ordinary cheap wine used in the middle ages was often carried in -'bottles' or pitchers of this form. - -A longish gown was the dress of the commoner people in the fourteenth -century. The Rioter is intended to represent a man of decent position, but -not noble, who has come to the end of his tether, in a pecuniary sense, -and whose slovenly hose and young but debauched and cruel face indicate -with what facility he has been degraded by his elder companions. - - -PORTRAIT OF CHAUCER. - -Chaucer's portrait is copied from a drawing by Occleve the poet (Brit. -Mus. Harl. MS. 4866). Occleve made, or caused to be made, shortly after -Chaucer's death, several portraits of him, of which two remain; and on -these are founded the many now scattered over the country. The same -features recur in all. The peculiar aquiline nose, mouth a little -drooping, eyes downcast, the forked beard and fair complexion, the broad -round jaw, are the same in all. Occleve always depicted Chaucer with a -rosary in his hand, and his penner, containing his pen and inkhorn, -hanging to his vest. His hands are small and well-shapen, his form is -portly, his air calm, benevolent, almost pathetic. - -These lines run beside the miniature in Occleve's MS.:-- - - Al thogh his lyfe be queynt, the resemblaunce extinguished - Of him hath in me so fressh lyflynesse liveliness - That to putte othir men in remembraunce - Of his persone I have heere his lyknesse likeness - Do make, to this end in sothfastnesse, had made - (_faire faire_), - truth - That thei that have of him lest thought and mynde lost - By this peynture may ageyn him fynde. painting - - - Although his life be quench'd, so clear doth lie - Within my mind the living look of him, - That to put other men in memory - Of his appearance, here his face I limn, - That they to whom his image groweth dim, - And they that have of him lost thought and mind, - By this poor portrait may again him find. - -The portraits by Occleve, his personal friend and disciple, whose deep -affection for Chaucer is touchingly reiterated in his 'Lament' for him, -maybe relied on as most conscientious pictures from memory of the great -poet's habitual appearance. - - -Notes on the Woodcuts. - -THE TOURNAMENT. (See Title-page.)--There must always have been, to some -extent, a grotesque element in the Tournament. The desire to be -conspicuous forced the combatants to assume the gayest and the biggest -decoration. At a later date the tilting helmets sprouted into the most -preposterous sizes and shapes. Figures and 'favours' assumed for the -occasion, the gifts of enthusiastic lady-loves, as well as hereditary -devices, surmounted the helm and glittered on coat-armour and harness. In -Edward III.'s reign the beauty and _éclat_ of the tourney was in its -zenith; in Richard II.'s the beautiful began to be overpowered by the -grotesque. I have tried to tone down the grotesque as much as may be, but -a general dazzle and confusion of colour is inseparable from the scene, -vivid, violent, and exciting as it was. Tents were often erected within -the pale of the lists for the convenience of those awaiting or _hors de -combat_. Shields or targets, for _peace_ or _war_, were suspended in -couples before them, emblazoned with the arms of each lord; and whoso sent -to touch the targets was tilted with according to his wish--_i.e._, with -sharp or blunt lances. - -The end of Theseus' tourney was clearly a riot, but I have preferred to -represent the orderly onset of the first combatants, guided by a MS. -Froissart of the fifteenth century. It has been suggested to me that it -would be impossible to tilt across the bar unless the spear-arm were next -the bar, as the horse's neck would impede the stroke, and the rider's own -spear would unhorse him: in tent-pegging and all sports with the lance the -rider brings his spear-arm next the mark. But having found several early -miniatures in which the spear is aimed as here given, I considered myself -justified in trusting to contemporary MSS. in spite of modern theories. - -The horses were the chief sufferers in these mimic frays. The heavy -beasts, protected as they were by a great weight of armour, were often -injured. The best-trained dreaded the shock of encounter, and, as we read -in Froissart, their restiveness and swerving at the last moment frequently -spoiled the 'course,' despite the most violent spurring, to their masters' -deep chagrin and disappointment, and the disgust of the lady-loves. - -The high saddles, sometimes locking the rider in his seat all round, were -constructed to retain him on his horse, however violent the push; but they -were the cause of many an unhappy accident. Death like Arcite's, from -crushing against the saddle-bow, was by no means uncommon. So died William -the Conqueror himself four hundred years before; when, riding down the -steep street of Mantes, his horse stumbled among the embers he had -kindled. (See Green's Short History of the English People, p. 85.) - -Suffocation in the dust was a still more frequent cause of death; as -thrown riders could not rise, nor rid themselves of their ponderous -casques. - -Skill rather than strength was needful in tilting. The spear, as in -pig-sticking in India, was thrust rather by the weight of the horse than -by the weight of the arm. Strength of back and arm were necessary to avoid -being bent backwards or driven over the crupper; but extreme skill was -requisite to hit one's slippery foe with anything like force. When both -knights hit their mark so that fire flew from their helmets, without -either falling, it was reckoned a 'handsome course.' - -A word about the allans, as big as bullocks, which went leaping around -Lycurgus' car. They were undoubtedly a kind of mastiff, large and -powerful; they wore gold collars filled with _torettz_. This word is -variously explained. _Torete_, ring-turret (Morris), ring or terret -(Bell). '_Toret_, a small wimble (or auger, big gimblet). Touret, a drill, -&c.' (Cotgrave). '_Gros clou dont la tête arrondie est arrêtée dans une -branche d'un mors_' (Suppl. to Fr. Acad. Dict.). - -I have ventured on translating 'toret' _spike_, after vainly seeking for -authority for a collar filled with rings; though a single ring often hung -beneath the throat. Contemporary illustrations of dogs' collars filled -with long spikes are common enough--_e.g._ the fine fourteenth century -tapestry now in the museum at Chartres, &c. - -In India dogs are furnished with spiked collars in tiger and boar hunting: -the allans were clearly hunting dogs, and such spiked collars would thus -be almost indispensable. - -JOHN OF GAUNT, Royal Coll. 20 B. 6. (See page 7.)--This portrait has an -air of truth about it; in the MS. it is very carefully and delicately -worked. The gown is of a reddish murrey colour, with ermine or miniver -lining to skirt and sleeves, the under sleeves being blue. His hose are -red, and he wears a golden circlet, necklace, and belt. One can trace some -resemblance to Edward III., his father, in the long, narrow, but not -unpleasing face. Other portraits of John of Gaunt have the same features. -The hair and beard are grey. He appears to be respectfully lecturing the -young King Richard, who is seated on his throne, receiving a book -presented by a monk, in the presence of his three royal uncles. - -SHIP. (See page 8.)--How such ships could sail is a mystery, but this is -the most usual anatomy for a man-of-war, or for a 'subtlety' at dinner in -the form of a ship. I copied the present example from a MS. in the British -Museum: it is one of a royal fleet. There is a Nef introduced in the -famous 'Nancy' tapestry (fifteenth century) of precisely the same -construction. - -STYLUS. (See page 10.)--The stylus was used for writing on waxen tablets. -No doubt wax was cheaper and more easily procured than parchment or paper; -paper made from rags being then quite a recent invention, and probably -what was made was not white but brown, and imported from abroad. Wax could -be dissolved and used again. Hence we find, in the romance of 'Flor and -Blanchflor,' the king putting children to school, where they learned to -write - - Letres et vers d'amors en cire, - Lor greffes sont d'or et d'argent. - - - Letters and verses of love on the wax. - Their styles are of gold and silver. - -THE YEOMAN. (See page 21.)--The term 'not-head' used by Chaucer may mean -that he had his hair closely cropped--a head like a nut--as suggested by -Tyrwhitt, &c.; but I think, on the contrary, it refers to his hood having -the liripipe knotted around it, as there are numerous instances of such -hoods worn by foresters, hunters, and others, to whom a long tail would be -a nuisance, if not actually dangerous. The woodcut of a knotted hood, on -p. 2, is that of a forester, in the Book of Gaston Phoebus, fourteenth -century, in the National Library of Paris. Chaucer says the miller wore -his 'typet ybounde about his heed' ('Reeve's Tale,' line 33). - -THE PRIORESS. (See page 22.)--Her costume (same as in Frontispiece) is -borrowed from an Abbess or Prioress in a MS. of the History of the -Emperors (Lib. of the Arsenal), fifteenth century. - -THE MONK. (See page 24.)--From Royal MS. 14 E. 4, temp. Ed. IV.: too late, -indeed, but it appears that the clerical costume had suffered no great -change. - -THE CLERK. (See page 27.)--The figure of the Clerk possesses peculiar -interest, as it represents one of those ancient artists whose paintings in -mediæval MSS. are so valuable to us now. His name is Alan Strayler, a -designer and painter, and his dress is that of an ordinary middle-class -man; it will be seen to be precisely similar to Chaucer's, who was himself -a 'clerk.' - -THE SERJEANT AT LAW. (See page 28.)--It is curious that the mantle of this -figure, whose dress is taken from two effigies of Chief Justices of the -King's Bench in the fourteenth century, should recall the Roman toga, -being apparently fastened over the hood, on the right shoulder, so as to -leave that arm completely free: an instance of the conservatism of -official dress, which alters very little with the fluctuations of fashion, -whilst those persons whose costume denotes no position are constantly -undergoing protean changes. - -THE DOCTOR. (See page 29.)--The medical man is as much too early as the -monk is too late, but it was the most characteristic one I could find, and -I preferred thirteenth century to fifteenth century costume. The mantle -recalls the Roman toga. (Copy from Sloane Coll. No. 1975.) - -THE PARSON. (See page 30.)--See a brass of John Islyngton, vicar of -Islington, in Norfolk, in 1393. The dress of a plain parish priest is not -often represented: it will be seen to be not dissimilar to that of a -modern French priest. - -THE PLOUGHMAN.--(See page 31.)--Studied from figures in a very ancient -Anglo-Saxon MS. It appears to me that the liripipe (evidently then worn) -is in this case twisted around the head. - -THE PARDONER. (See page 31.)--The Pardoner may have worn the ordinary -clerkly gown, or, as in the Frontispiece, a close-fitting garb. Chaucer -does not describe his attire, but says he thought himself 'al of the newe -get' (_i.e._, fashion). - - - - -PRINCIPAL AUTHORITIES CONSULTED IN THIS BOOK. - - -Sir S. Meyrick, 'Antient Armour.' - -Lacroix, 'Manners, Customs, and Dress during the Middle Ages,' &c., &c. - -Skeat, 'Chaucer,' &c. - -Morris, 'Chaucer' (Aldine edition), 1866, and 'Chaucer' (Clarendon Press), -1874. - -Tyrwhitt's 'Chaucer.' - -Bell's edition of 'Chaucer's Poetical Works.' - -Fairholt, 'Costume in England.' - -Wright, 'Domestic Manners during the Middle Ages,' and 'Womankind in -Western Europe.' - -Froissart's 'Chronicles.' - -Planché, 'British Costume.' - -Shaw, 'Dresses and Decorations,' 'Ornaments,' &c. - -Furnivall, 'Babee's Book,' and 'Trial Forewords' (Chaucer Society), &c. - -'Arthur of Britayn.' - -Six-Text Edition of Chaucer's 'Canterbury Tales.' - -Bonnard & Mercurj, 'Costumes des XIIIe, XIVe, et XVe Siècles,' 1840. - -Le Grand, 'Fabliaux et Contes du XIIe et du XIIIe Siècle,' 1781. - -Barbazan, 'Fabliaux et Contes,' 1808. - - -Printed by McCorquodale & Co. Limited, "The Armoury," Southwark. - - - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] I use the word 'emphasis' in the same sense as one might speak of a -_crotchet_ in music, to which you count two, being more emphatic than a -_quaver_, to which you count one. - -[2] Those who wish to study systematically the grammar, and construction -of the metre, I can only refer to the best authorities, Dr. R. Morris and -Mr. Skeat, respectively. It would be superfluous to enter on these matters -in the present volume. - -[3] "No better MS. of the 'Canterbury Tales' could be found than the -Harleian MS. 7334, which is far more uniform and accurate than any other I -have examined; it has therefore been selected, and faithfully adhered to -throughout, as the text of the present edition. Many clerical errors and -corrupt readings have been corrected by collating it, line for line, with -the Lansdowne MS. 851, which, notwithstanding its provincial -peculiarities, contains many excellent readings, some of which have been -adopted in preference to the Harleian MS." (Preface to Morris's Revised -Ed. 1866.) This method I have followed when I have ventured to change a -word or sentence, in which case I have, I believe, invariably given my -authority. - -[4] Roger Ascham. - -[5] Mr. Furnivall, among some of his recent interesting researches anent -Chaucer, has discovered with certainty his father's name and profession. - -[6] The position of Chaucer, and his wife, in the King's service, and that -of the latter in the service of Constance, Duchess of Lancaster, shared -with two ladies of rank, be well as their lifelong interest at Court, -prove, I think, that neither of them was of mean parentage, and that they -occupied a very good social _status_. - -[7] See also p. 19, note 34. - -[8] It must not be forgotten, in reading praises of warm and sunny May, -often now a bleak and chilly month, that the seasons were a fortnight -later at that time, May-day coming therefore in the middle of the month, -and May ending in the middle of June. The change in the almanac was made -in Italy in 1582, in England in 1752. - -[9] Dr. Morris writes--"The old supposition that the Philippa whom Chaucer -married was the daughter of Sir Paon de Roet (a native of Hainault and -King of Arms of Guienne), and sister to Katherine, widow of Sir Hugh -Swynford, successively governess, mistress, and wife of John of Gaunt, -Duke of Lancaster, was founded on heraldic grounds. The Roet arms were -adopted by Thomas Chaucer. Then Thomas Chaucer was made (without the -slightest evidence) Geoffrey's son, and Philippa Roet was then made -Geoffrey's wife." And again, "It is possible that Philippa Chaucer was a -relative or namesake of Geoffrey, and that he married her in the spring or -early summer of 1374." It is, however, much less likely that there were so -many Chaucers about the Court, unconnected with each other, than that the -common supposition is correct. At any rate, _until there is any evidence -to the contrary_, this tradition may be fairly accepted. The recent -discovery, in the Record Office, of Thomas Chaucer's deed, by Mr. Hunter, -sealed with a seal bearing the legend, 'S Ghofrai Chaucer,' seems to -support the tradition. - -[10] A mark was 13_s._ 4_d._ of our money, but the buying power of money -was eight or ten times greater than at present. So that, although ten -marks was only £6 12_s._ of our currency, it was fully equal to £50. - -[11] There are entries mentioning Philippa Chaucer in 1366, 1372, and -1374. The former names her as one of the ladies of the bedchamber to Queen -Philippa, who conferred the annuity of ten marks in September, 1366. In -1372 John of Gaunt conferred on Philippa Chaucer an annuity of £10 (equal -to £100). Her name is mentioned when the grant to Chaucer of a pitcher of -wine daily is commuted into money payment, June 13, 1374, by John of Gaunt -(again a pension of £10), for good services rendered by the Chaucers to -the said Duke, his consort, and his mother the Queen. - -[12] Green was the favourite colour of the time. - -[13] _Astrolabe_: a machine used at sea to measure the distances of stars. -The quadrant now in use has superseded the astrolabe. - -[14] Thomas Chaucer was born in or about 1367, and died in 1434. Elizabeth -Chaucer's noviciate was paid for by John of Gaunt in 1381. If Elizabeth -Chaucer was about 16 in 1381 she would have been born about 1365; and, -therefore, as far as dates are concerned, either Thomas or Elizabeth may -well have been elder children of the poet: the chances being that he -married in 1361-64. Moreover, John of Gaunt's interest in both of these -persons, Thomas Chaucer and Elizabeth Chaucer, gives this a colour of -probability. At the same time Chaucer seems to have been no uncommon name. - -Chaucer's exceptional notice of his little son Lewis who must have been -born in 1381, the year of Elizabeth's novitiate, since Chaucer describes -him as being ten years old in his treatise on the astrolabe in 1391, may -have been due to the appearance of a 'Benjamin' rather late in life. - -[15] On the hypothesis, of course, that Chaucer married a Roet. - -[16] For many new and curious facts about Chaucer, see my _Chaucer for -Schools_, "Chaucer's Court Life and Position." - -[17] In these cases, the sum received on the marriage of the ward was -legally a fine on the marriage. - -[18] See Chambers's Encyclopædia, 'Chaucer'. - -[19] See _Chaucer for Schools_, p. 22, for further details. - -[20] I have assumed that Thomas Chaucer was Geoffrey Chaucer's son, as -there is no proof to the contrary, and a probability in point of dates -that he was. - -[21] See 'Notes by the Way,' p. 103. - -[22] See _Chaucer for Schools_. - -[23] Remembering the discussion raised as to the year of Chaucer's birth, -coupled with the tradition of his venerable looks, we may suggest that in -those days men were older at sixty than now. The average duration of life -was shorter, and the paucity of comforts probably told on appearance. - -[24] Author of the 'Testament of Love.' - -[25] Alluding to the numerous dialects in use in England at the time. - -[26] The mother should here read to the child some lines with the proper -pronunciation: see Preface, pp. x., xi. - -[27] _Zephyrus_, or Zephyr: the god of the west wind. It is become a name -for the wind of summer. - -[28] Pilgrims who have brought a palm branch from the Holy Land. - -[29] _Kouthe_: past participle of the verb conne, to know, or to be able. -It was used much as _savoir_ is in French--to be able to do, to know how -to do a thing. The verse means 'To serve the saints they could, or they -knew of, or knew how to serve.' - -[30] Thomas Beket, Chancellor of Henry II. He was Archbishop of Canterbury -for eight years, and was murdered by servants of the King in 1170. He was -canonized, or made a saint, by the Pope, after his death, and pilgrimages -were then constantly made to his tomb in Canterbury Cathedral. In those -days it was usual in sickness or peril to vow a pilgrimage to the shrine -of some saint who was supposed to be able to help people by interceding -with God, when pilgrims prayed him to. Erasmus alludes to the quantities -of offerings on Thomas Beket's shrine, given by those who believed the -saint had healed or helped them. - -[31] A tabard was an outer coat without sleeves, worn by various classes, -but best known as the coat worn over the armour (see p. 48), whereon there -were signs and figures embroidered by which to recognize a man in war or -tournament: for the face was hidden by the helmet, and it was easier to -detect a pattern in bright colours than engraved in dark steel. So, of -course, the pattern represented the arms used by him. And thus the tabard -got to be called the _coat of arms_. Old families still possess what they -call their coat of arms, representing the device chosen by their ancestors -in the lists; but they do not wear it any more: it is only a copy of the -pattern on paper. A _crest_ was also fastened to the helmet for the same -purpose of recognition, and there is usually a 'crest' still surmounting -the modern 'coat of arms.' The inn where Chaucer slept was simply named -after the popular garment. It, or at least a very ancient inn on its site, -was recently standing, and known as the Talbot Inn, High Street, Borough: -Talbot being an evident corruption of Tabard. We may notice here, that the -Ploughman, described later on, wears a tabard, which may have been a kind -of blouse or smock-frock, but was probably similar in form to the knight's -tabard. - -[32] People were glad to travel in parties for purposes of safety, the -roads were so bad and robbers so numerous. - -[33] Probably all or many occupied but one bedroom, and they became -acquainted on retiring to rest, at the ordinary time--sunset. - -[34] The word Knight (knecht) really means _servant_. The ancient knights -attended on the higher nobles and were their _servants_, fighting under -them in battle. For as there was no regular army, when a war broke out -everybody who could bear arms engaged himself to fight under some king or -lord, anywhere, abroad or in England, and was paid for his services. That -was how hundreds of nobly born men got their living--the only way they -could get it. This is what the knight Arviragus does in the 'Franklin's -Tale;' leaving his bride, to win honour (and money) by fighting wherever -he could. - -The _squire_ waited on the knight much as the knight did on the earl--much -in the position of an aide-de-camp of the present day. The _page_ served -earl, knights, ladies. But knight, squire, and page were all honourable -titles, and borne by noblemen's sons. The page was often quite a boy, and -when he grew older changed his duties for those of squire, till he was -permitted to enter the knighthood. The present knight is described as -being in a lord's service, and fighting under him 'in his war,' but he was -a man held in the highest honour. - -[35] See p. 48 and Appendix, p. 107. - -[36] "On nommait _Bacheliers_ les chevaliers pauvres, les _bas Chevaliers_ -... quand ceux-ci avaient reçu la chevalerie, on les appelait -Chevaliers-Bacheliers ... quant à l'Ecuyer (Squire) c'était le prétendant -à la Chevalerie."--LE GRAND, _Fabliaux & Contes_. - -[37] _Chivachie_: military expeditions. - -[38] See page 45, note 96. - -[39] Mr. Bell considers that these two lines refer to the squire's -complexion of red and white. Speght thinks it means freckled. But there is -little doubt that the material of his dress is what Chaucer means, for -there is no other instance of Chaucer calling a complexion _embroidered_, -and gorgeously flowered fabrics embroidered with the needle were peculiar -to the period and in common use. - -[40] As it was the custom for sons to do. - -[41] Peacocks' feathers on them instead of swans'. - -[42] It was a sign of the yeoman's carefulness in his business that they -stuck out from the shaft instead of drooping. - -[43] _Bracer_: a leathern defence for the arm: a similar shield is now -worn in archery. - -[44] _Bokeler_--buckler: a small shield--used chiefly for a warder to -catch the blow of an adversary. Some pictures show the buckler to have -been only the size of a plate, but it varied. In comparing the Wife of -Bath's hat to a buckler, Chaucer could not have meant so small a one. It -was usual for serving men of noble families to carry swords and bucklers -when in attendance on them. - -[45] _Bawdrik_--baldrick: ornamented strap to suspend the horn or dagger. - -[46] Oaths were only too common among ladies as well as men. It was an -exceptional refinement to use only a small oath. Tyrwhitt prints the name -of the saint, Eloy, contraction of Eligius--a saint who, having been a -worker in metals, was often invoked by smiths (see 'Friar's Tale'), &c.; -but Dr. Morris says St. Loy is the old spelling of St. Louis of France, by -whom the Prioress swore. - -[47] Bell approves reading _voice_ for nose, as Speght has actually done. -It has not struck either of them that Chaucer is all the way through -laughing at the fastidious and rather over-attractive nun! - -[48] Knives and forks were not in use--people had to use their fingers; -but some used them more agreeably than others. - -[49] At meals one cup for drinking passed from guest to guest, instead of -each having his own glass, as now. It was considered polite to wipe one's -mouth well before drinking, so that the next drinker should find no grease -in the wine. The great stress Chaucer lays on the pretty nun's courtesy -seems to hint at very dirty habits among ordinary folk at meals! - -[50] Mr. Bell naïvely points out the innocence and 'ignorance of the ways -of the world,' which pervade the whole of the 'simple Prioress's -character;' but you will notice that in laughing at the cheerful nun's -affectation of court manners, Chaucer never once gives her credit for very -high or noble character, though he does not speak ill-naturedly. I have -ere now alluded to his dislike of the Church, friars, nuns, and all -included: and here he shows that her charitableness and compassion were -spent on wholly inadequate objects. She is extravagant to the last degree -in feeding her dogs, and weeping for dead mice; but nothing is said of -charity to the poor, or any good works at all. She is too intent on -fascinating everybody, and dressing smartly. There is sharp sarcasm in all -this. - -[51] _Wastel breed_--a kind of cake--the most expensive of all bread. - -[52] _Wimple_: a loose covering for the neck, close up to the chin, -plaited daintily; worn especially by nuns. - -[53] A rosary, the coral beads of which were divided by smaller ones, or -gauds, of a green colour. - -[54] 'Love conquers all things.' The Prioress might have twisted this -device to refer to the text, 'The greatest of these is charity;' but the -_double entendre_ is apparent. - -[55] From a French phrase, _bone pur la maistrie_ = good to excel all -others. The monk bids fair to excel all others or outstrip the rest in -promotion, on account of his worldliness. - -[56] "The custom of hanging small bells on the bridle and harness of -horses is still observed on the Continent for the purpose of giving notice -to foot-passengers to get out of the way; but it was no doubt often used -for ostentation. So Wicliffe inveighs against the clergy in his Triologe -for their 'fair hors, and jolly and gay sadels, and bridels ringing by the -way.'" - -[57] A bird more commonly eaten in those days than it is now, but -expensive even then. - -[58] _Lymytour_: a friar licensed to beg within a certain district or -limit. This friar, no very pleasing character, is described as making such -a good thing out of his begging, that he bribed his fellow friars not to -come within his particular haunt, and interfere with his doings: an -unprincipled dandy who is another instance of Chaucer's sarcasm against -the Church. - -[59] There were four orders of mendicant friars--Dominicans, Franciscans, -Carmelites, and Augustins. - -[60] _Frankeleyns_: a franklin was a rich landholder, free of feudal -service, holding possessions immediately from the king. See p. 28. - -[61] Confession, absolution, and penance: sacraments in the Roman Catholic -Church. - -[62] The rotta was an ancient instrument of the guitar tribe. - -[63] _Clerk_: a scholar probably preparing for the priesthood. In many -Roman Catholic countries it was the custom till very lately for poor -scholars to ask and receive contributions from the people for the expenses -of their education. They were often extremely indigent, coming from the -labouring classes. The parson, for instance, spoken of later, is said to -be brother of the ploughman travelling with him. The poor scholar and the -good parson are 'birds of a feather.' - -[64] Or, _abounded_: the O. E. _snewe_, like the Prov. Eng. _snee_, -_snie_, _snive_, _snew_, signifies _to swarm_. - -[65] The table dormant was a permanent table, not a board on trestles such -as the ordinary one, mentioned on p. 2. It was only used by very rich -people, for it was a new fashion, and expensive. See drawing of table -dormant in 14th century, on page 28. - -[66] Well-to-do. - -[67] Chaucer speaks, you see, in very different terms of the poor and -conscientious parish priest (who was supported only by his benefice and -tithes of the people--a small income) from what he does of the monastic -orders, corrupted by the wealth they had accumulated. Bell says--"It was -quite natural that Chaucer, the friend of John of Gaunt, should praise the -parochial clergy, who were poor, and therefore not formidable, at the -expense of the rich monastic orders who formed the only barriers which -then existed against the despotic power of the aristocracy." But, however -that may be, there is no doubt that these parish parsons actually were a -much better and more honest class of men than the monks, and the begging -friars, and all the rest, were at this time. They were drawn, like the -Roman Catholic secular clergy of the present day, from the labouring -classes. - -[68] No one of good position rode on a mare in the middle ages. - -[69] _Summoner_: an officer employed by the ecclesiastical courts to -summon any persons who broke the law to appear before the archdeacon, who -imposed what penalty he thought fit. The Summoners found it to their -interest to accept bribes not to report offences: therefore bad people who -could afford to pay got off, whilst those who could not afford to pay were -punished with rigour. Many Summoners extorted bribes by threatening to say -people had transgressed the law who had _not_; and so they got to be -detested by the masses, and Chaucer's hideous picture gives the popular -notion of a Summoner. - -[70] A face as red as the fiery cherubin: a rather profane simile! In many -ancient pictures we find the cherubin painted wholly scarlet; and the term -had become a proverb. 'Sawceflem' is from _salsum flegma_, a disease of -the skin. - -[71] See note, p. 92, note 175. - -[72] _Pardoner_: Seller of the Pope's indulgences. - -[73] A vernicle--diminutive of _Veronike_--was a small copy of the face of -Christ, worn as a token that he had just returned from a pilgrimage to -Rome. - -[74] The Pardoner's eloquence and musical gifts account, perhaps, for the -exquisite story he afterwards tells. - -[75] Mr. Wright says this place was situated at the second milestone on -the old Canterbury road. - -[76] Tyrwhitt. Hyppolita, Smith's Dic. - -[77] Feste in this place means rather festival than feast, as Theseus was -only on his way to the city. - -[78] At this period, the personal pronoun _you_ was used only in the -plural sense, or in formal address, as on the Continent now; whilst _thou_ -implied familiarity. The Deity, or any superior, was therefore addressed -as _you_: intimates and inferiors as _thou_. Throughout Chaucer the -distinction is noticeable: but as the present mode reverses the order, I -have in my lines adhered to no strict principle, but have used the -singular or plural personal pronoun according as it seemed most forcible. - -[79] Thebes, in Greece. - -[80] A garment worn over the armour, on which the armorial bearings were -usually embroidered, for the purpose of recognition. See _tabard_, p. 48. - -[81] The rites and ceremonies, observed on the approach of spring, from -the earliest times in many countries, but which have now died out in -England, are among the most natural and beautiful of all popular fêtes. I -have already in the preface alluded lo the custom of riding out into the -fields at daybreak to do honour to May, the month which was held to be the -symbol of spring-time. Rich and poor, the court and the commoners, all -rode out with one impulse. Boughs of hawthorn and laburnum were brought -home to decorate all the streets, and dancing round the maypole, and -feasting, and holiday-making, were observed almost like religious rites. -It was a great privilege to be elected queen of May, and one which every -young maiden coveted. At a later time we read of Henry VIII. and Queen -Catherine of Aragon formally meeting the heads of the corporation of -London, on Shooter's Hill, to 'go a maying.' - -But one thing should be remembered when we see how many pleasures were -referred to May, and how much more people seemed to count on the weather -of a month nowadays proverbially disappointing. The seasons were not the -same then as they are now. Not because the climate of the land has altered -so much, though that may be fairly surmised; but because the seasons were -actually arranged otherwise. In Chaucer's time, May began twelve days -later than our May, and ended in the midst of June, and therefore there -was a much better chance of settled weather than we have. This fact also -accounts for the proverbial connection of Christmas and hard weather, -snow, and ice, which _we_ get as a rule in January, while December is -foggy and wet. Twelfth Day was the old Christmas Day. (See page 4.) - -[82] At point devise--with exactness. - -[83] The love of the Anglo-Saxons and the early English for flowers is -very remarkable. The wearing of garlands of fresh flowers was a common -practice with both sexes: a beautiful custom, followed by the Romans, and -previously by the Greeks. - -[84] Formal compacts for the purpose of mutual counsel and assistance were -common to the heroic and chivalrous ages.--_B._ - -[85] The words _court_ and _royal_, now applied only to the sovereign of -the land, were applicable then to the domains of the great nobles, who -were to all intents and purposes kings. Their pride, and wealth, and -immense power, made them very formidable to the sovereign, as we -constantly find in following the history of England or any other country. -They often mustered as big an army as the king, because they could afford -to pay the knights (see note, p. 19), and were invincible in their -strongholds, surrounded by their serfs dependent on them. - -[86] Tyrwhitt. - -[87] _Crop_, the top of the wood; _briars_, the thorny brushwood and weeds -growing on the ground. This pretty metaphor well expresses the fluctuating -moods of an overwrought state of feeling. - -[88] Tyrwhitt. - -[89] Harness was a technical term for the complete armour or equipment, as -opposed to portions, which were equally _armour_. - -[90] Even these similes separate the two characters: the lion may be mad -with rage; the tiger, which is a cat, is crafty as well as fierce. - -[91] An exaggeration simply for picturesque effect, such as many have -indulged in since Chaucer. - -[92] The helmet entirely concealing the face. - -[93] _Ho_ was the word by which the heralds or the king commanded the -cessation of any action. - -[94] What were called the 'lists' were the places built and enclosed for -combats on horseback, and tournaments. These combats got sometimes very -serious, and many knights and horses were wounded, or even killed. - -[95] A form of torture to extort confession. Theseus' grim humour at this -juncture implies how far lightlier human life was held then than now. But -he was naturally in a great rage when he knew who the knights were. -Palamon's insolent address in the _singular_ personal pronoun was not -likely to mollify him, coming as it did from a captive, though an equal by -birth. - -[96] How idealized, and how idolized, the passion of love had crown to be -with the new elevation of woman's condition in these times is well known. -Love literally covered a multitude of sins: the malefactor was pardoned -whose offences were caused by love; the rough was made smooth for the feet -of love to tread upon. There was a reason for this. It is but too true -that the morals of the people will not bear the light of modern times; but -it would be unfair to judge them by that light. Those were rough days, -when laws were often feeble, narrow, or ill-enforced. The want of legal -organization placed a great refining and ennobling power in the hands of -woman. Many a knight, who was coarse or cowardly, was pricked to courteous -ways and deeds of courage by his love of some fair woman, when without it -he would have sunk lower and lower in vice and degradation. The arts were -ofttimes cultivated to win a woman's ear or eye; knowledge itself was -sought for her sake, for knowledge is power. Of course the love of -courtesy, valour, and learning were deeply rooted in the age, or the -woman's sympathy could not have existed. But her encouragement of all that -was æsthetic, her influence over men, and therefore the impetus she gave -to the higher life, must never be underrated, however we may reprove the -errors of that day. The institution of actual 'Courts of Love'--tribunals -for the judgment of love-matters, bearing a definite recognition, and -which seem so strange, almost repulsive to us, presided over as they were -by ladies only--was the result of the worship of physical beauty and the -passion which it inspired, and the proof, however grotesque, of the real -value seen to lie in it. This will be better understood when we observe -that even children were encouraged to cultivate somewhat of this ideal -love, and the childish education of boys and girls consisted to a very -large extent in learning the art of writing love-letters. Thus Palamon's -and Arcite's adoration of fresh Emelye are seen to be neither exaggerated -nor futile. - -[97] 'To pipe in an ivy leaf:' A proverbial expression, similar to 'go -whistle'--meaning to be engaged in any useless employment. - -[98] The tournament, great as the loss of life often was, seems to have -been the greatest delight of the people in the middle ages. The ladies -especially loved them, as they were often in homage to themselves. The -victor in the mimic battle received a crown from the queen of the -tournament. In this case, Emelye is not asked whether she likes to be -disposed of thus coolly! but she could not fail to be touched by the great -compliment paid her. - -[99] There are no portraits, otherwise, of these two princes, whose -characters are so clear and forcible all through that some physical -description is sorely needed. The portraits of the two sovereigns fit -singularly well the fierce, passionate nature of Palamon, and the cooler -but equally noble one of Arcite. - -[100] _Kemped heres_: Dr. Morris rejects the usual rendering of the word -kemped as combed, and asserts that it means the very reverse, and, -"instead of smoothly combed, means bent, _curled_, and hence rough, -shaggy." A similar term occurs a few lines farther on, describing the hair -'kempt behind his back,' where Dr. Morris reads combed. It seems, however, -contrary to the rule of courtesy observed by lovers, that a noble knight -should appear at a festival like a wild man of the woods. If, on the other -hand, the shaggy hairs were on the _eyebrow_, it certainly adds to the -ferocity of his look. I prefer the former reading for Emelye's bridegroom. - -[101] See page 42, note. - -[102] _Alauns._ A species of dog used for hunting the boar, &c. Sp. -_alano_. Speght says they were greyhounds, Tyrwhitt mastiffs, much -esteemed in Italy in the 14th century. See Cotgrave--'_Allan_, a kind of -big, strong, thick-headed, and short-snowted dog--the brood whereof came -first out of Albania.' - -[103] See Appendix, p. 111. - -[104] A kind of rich silk. - -[105] The 'mantelet' was at first devised to protect the burnished helmet -from becoming inconveniently heated by the sun: it became afterwards -fantastic in form, and is the origin of the 'mantling' seen in modern -coats of arms. - -[106] This fair countenance is oddly assigned to an Indian monarch: but -some of the details of his appearance are poetic embellishments and must -not be relied upon. The white eagle carried for his pleasure is probably -one of the many exaggerations for picturesque effect, and is only a -magnified falcon, a bird which was at this time the constant companion of -the noble: hawking was in high favour, and the bird's tameness depended on -its habituation to its owner's voice and touch. A little later on the -hawks are mentioned as sitting on perches during the festival; such -perches were in every room and hall in common life; so provision had to be -made for their accommodation on the grandest occasions. In Wright's -'Womankind,' we read: "Different species of the hawk were allotted to -persons of the different grades and ranks of society. Thus we are told -that the eagle and the vulture belonged to the emperor, from which we must -understand that the emperor was not expected to go often a-hawking." -Evidently Chaucer was well read in his books on falconry. - -[107] _Carole_ (Tyrwhitt--the other editions have _dance_) was a round -dance. - -[108] The term for the whole panoply of knight or steed--armour and -coat-armour included. - -[109] A knight in armour was in very little danger from a cut of a -broadsword, or even from the blow of a mace; but a thrusting sword might -easily pierce through the joints of his armour.--_Bell._ - -[110] Tyrwhitt's and Bell's editions read, 'Farwel, my swete, farwel, myn -Emelye!' - -[111] Tyrwhitt. _Overnome_ is participle past of _overnimen_ (Sax.), to -overtake. The following, and the sixth line further on, are also -Tyrwhitt's reading. - -[112] See _Chaucer for Schools_, p. 86, for some curious details. - -[113] The Summoners and the Friars were naturally always at variance, both -deriving their money from the same Source: both belonged to the Church, -but the Summoner was legally qualified to _extort_, whilst the Friar was -only permitted to _beg_. Thus, if the Summoner had been to a house first, -the Friar was likely to suffer. - -[114] Houses of ill-fame were exempted from ecclesiastical interference on -the ground that they were a necessary evil, and might be thus better -_surveillé_. - -[115] _Gale_--sing: it means here, 'If the Summoner likes to squeak when -he feels the shoe pinch, let him!' - -[116] "A dog trained for shooting with the bow, part of whose education -consisted in following the stricken deer only, and separating it from the -herd."--_Bell._ - -[117] _Ribibe_: a shrill musical instrument--metaphorical for a shrill old -woman. - -[118] Tyrwhitt. - -[119] The hell of the Teutonic race, before they were Christians, was in -the north, and after their conversion, as their converters adopted their -name, only giving the place a Christian character, it was natural that the -people should retain their original notion of its position.--_Bell._ - -[120] Tyrwhitt. - -[121] Money forced out of people by threats or ill-usage. - -[122] A proverbial expression. - -[123] Tyrwhitt. - -[124] Tyrwhitt; more forcible. - -[125] The first quarter of the artificial day: _i.e._ 9 o'clock. - -[126] Tyrwhitt. Morris has 'nothing for to leere.' - -[127] This verse means, 'You shall hereafter understand this subject so -well, as to be able to give lectures on it, as a professor in his chair;' -_chayer_ being the term for pulpit or professor's chair; _conne_ part of -the verb conne, to know or be able; and _rede_, to counsel. The evil one -is sarcastic on the special wickedness of the Summoner. - -[128] Alluding to Eneas' visit to infernal regions (6th book of 'Eneid') -and Dante's 'Inferno.' - -[129] The text has 'Heit, Scot, heit, brok, what spare ye for the stones?' -and it is singular that 'hayt' is still the word used by waggoners in -Norfolk to make their horses go on; while Scot remains one of the -commonest names for a horse in Norfolk and Suffolk. The Reeve's horse in -the Prologue is called Scot also. Brock means a badger, hence applied to a -grey horse. The carter presently calls this horse 'myn oughne lyard (grey) -boy.' - -[130] The value of twelve pence may be estimated by the relative value of -food and labour. _Bell_ says, "Twelve pence would have bought two dozen -hens, or three gallons of red wine, or hired a _dozen_ common labourers -for _twelve_ days," but surely he means a _dozen_ labourers for _one_ day, -or one labourer for twelve days. - -[131] There was then no means of conveyance for people who could not walk -except horseback. - -[132] A libel, a copy of the information or indictment. A libel is still -the expression in the ecclesiastical courts.--_Bell._ The abuses, we see, -have led to another interpretation of the word libel--as _libellous_. - -[133] This singular (to us) term as applied to Christ, was of course -borrowed from the popular notion of warfare, when each knight, inspired by -some fair inciter, was the more valiant for her sake. The term is both -picturesque and forcible as an appeal to the common understanding, in -which the Friars were naturally adepts. - -[134] Tyrwhitt. - -[135] The Summoner's Tale (omitted) follows here. - -[136] Students then entered the university at a far younger age than at -the present day, almost indeed when boys now enter the public schools, so -that the Clerk of Oxford may have been but a boy, which would account for -his diffident demeanour: yet his education and knowledge might warrant -mine host's fear of his being too learned for them. - -[137] Table: a board upon trestles. - -[138] These are the lines on which the supposition is based that Petrarch -and Chaucer had met. - -[139] "Joannes of Lignano, near Milan, a canonist and natural philosopher, -who flourished about 1378."--_B._ - -[140] Saluzzo, a marquisate near Mount Viso: Lat. Vesulus. - -[141] _Corage_ is used in several senses: impulse (as in the opening lines -of the Prologue), feeling, or disposition may be implied. The word is -derived from the Latin _cor_, the heart. - -[142] See note 144 below. - -[143] The courtsey of modern times is all that remains of the old custom -of kneeling. - -[144] The house without. In these early times, dwelling-places were -usually built within a court. The court was, among the poor, a spot -enclosed by a hedge or fence of sticks, and often a dry ditch; in the -middle of this enclosure or house, the _hall_ in which they lived stood--a -mere covered room. The chamber or _bower_, for sleeping and privacy, was a -second erection within the court; but, in the case of so poor a man as -Janicula, probably there was but one covered room, hall _or_ chamber, used -for any purpose of shelter. So when the guests came into the _house_ -without, the enclosure is meant, within which a single hut stood, built of -planks. Janicula's ox (used for draught, as now in Italy) inhabited the -hut with them, and Griselda sets down her can in the stall when she enters -the hut. In and around Naples we may still see the turkeys, pigs, and -donkeys sharing the hovels with the peasants in this miserable way. - -[145] On the Continent, even at the present day, the bride is _expected_ -to assent to the bridegroom chosen by her parents. Walter treated Griselda -with especial consideration and respect by consulting her. Skeat quotes -the legal formula of refusal, _Le roy s'avisera_, to show that Walter's -question, "Wol ye assent, or elles yow avyse?" gave her the chance to -refuse. - -[146] In the 14th century it was the custom for everybody to go to bed -with the sun. They rose in the morning at 4 or 5, had breakfast at 6, -dinner at 10 or 11, and supper about 6. - -[147] Sergeant and servant are doublets.--_Skeat._ Probably he was a cross -between a highwayman and a soldier. Sergeant at one time meant squire to a -prince or nobleman. - -[148] Tyrwhitt. - -[149] It was common, nay usual, in mediæval times for noble children to be -put out to nurse in the family of some equal or dependent, for purposes of -security. The removal of Walter's children from the mother was _not_ an -outrage: but concealing their fate from her was. - -[150] _Panico_, Petrarch; _Panigo_, Boccace. I cannot be sure of the -situation of this place, but there is a certain Paganico near Urbino, -marked in old maps as a castle or fortress, which is not too far from -Bologna to be possibly the place referred to. A river Panaro flows between -Modena and Bologna. - -[151] Tyrwhitt. - -[152] It was not uncommon in olden times for girls to be married at twelve -years of age. - -[153] Skeat. - -[154] The smock, or shift, was a high garment with long sleeves, often -embroidered with black stitchery. - -[155] "A jane is a small coin of Genoa (Janua); the meaning is, your -praise is dear enough at a farthing."--_B._ Or the verse may be taken to -mean, the smallest coin is dear enough to you when you are tired of -better--for novelty's sake. - -[156] Skeat; also second line beyond. - -[157] Tyrwhitt and Skeat. - -[158] Tyrwhitt. - -[159] Skeat. - -[160] Skeat and Tyrwhitt. - -[161] For the analysis of these two remarkable and elaborately worked-out -characters, see _Chaucer for Schools_, p. 111. - -[162] Basse Bretaigne in France, called anciently Britannia Armorica. - -[163] See Notes to this tale, p. 91, touching the homage paid to women -during the middle ages. - -[164] Penmark is placed on the maps on the western coast of Brittany, -between Brest and Port l'Orient. - -[165] The only means of subsistence a knight had was fighting--of course -for hire. - -[166] Backgammon. - -[167] About the 20th of May by our almanac. - -[168] _Clerk_ at that time denoted a man of learning, and a student at the -universities--generally in holy orders. - -[169] _Natural Magic_, Chaucer.--All kinds of conjuring were very popular -at this time. The minstrels or _jougleurs_ added to their other -accomplishments marvellous skill in sleight of hand (derived from the -East): hence the modern signification of the word _juggler_. It is quite -clear that many of their tricks were due to electro-biology, a science -known to those mighty cultivators and preservers of learning, the Arabs. -For some knowledge of what we owe to the Arabs, and of their influence -upon mediæval European literature, I refer the reader to the 'Literary -Remains of Emanuel Deutsch' (published by John Murray), containing two -articles on Arabic Poetry; and to Draper's popular 'History of the -Conflict between Religion and Science.' - -[170] This and the following line are not in Morris's edition. - -[171] Bell's edition. This and the next six lines are not in Morris's -edition. - -[172] Equal to eight or ten times the amount now. - -[173] Equivalent to 'What is done cannot be undone.' - -[174] I could not resist inserting the vigorous old words. - -[175] The ale-stake was a stake set up as a sign before the inn, generally -adorned with a bush. This custom prevails in Normandy still, where you may -see a goodly bunch of mistletoe hanging out wherever wine or cider is -sold. - -[176] "A small bell used formerly to be rung before the corpse as it was -carried to the grave, to give notice to those who were charitably disposed -that they might pray for the soul of the deceased. Our 'passing bell' has -the same origin, though the reason for it has ceased."--_Bell._ - -[177] "Perhaps an allusion to the great pestilence which devastated Europe -during the 14th century. _This pestilence_ means _during_ this pestilence, -as _this_ year means _during_ this year."--_Bell._ - -[178] "This is still the ceremony used in taking an oath in courts of -justice in Prussia."--_Bell._ Notice the emphasis laid on their close -friendship, and their constant allusion to their being all 'one,' over and -above the solemnity of the profane vow they make. - -[179] The kindly custom of greeting passers-by, now rapidly going out even -in our country districts, was more common in days when passers-by were -infinitely rarer. Probably half a mile from the inn the road was lonesome -enough, wherefore the old man's anticipation of rough treatment from three -reckless and half-tipsy ruffians was not unreasonable. His calm and -fearless answer was the wisest as well as the most dignified course to -pursue with such assailants, being calculated to sober them as well as to -save himself. - -[180] Making a jest of the close coverings and wraps of old age. - -[181] _Caitif_, wretch, wretched. Italian--_cattivo_, captive. -Fr.-_chétif_, poor, wretched, paltry, pitiful, &c. _Captive_ seems to give -the most pathetic meaning, as though death were a looked-for freedom by a -restless prisoner in the body. Fugitive is the next best for the sense, as -the old man may be supposed to be flying to the gate for safety and -comfort. - -[182] Hair-shroud, sackcloth, the roughest cloth. - -[183] Tyrwhitt's edition has the less bloody threat, 'Tell wher he is, or -thou shalt it abie!' - -[184] The old man probably saw that the young men were scarcely -responsible for their actions, and determined to wreak violence on some -one, and therefore he played on their mood to avert their violence from -himself to some other object. - -[185] Tyrwhitt. - -[186] Probably in the vessels, &c., which had contained the food, thus -avoiding the appearance of transporting treasure. - -[187] Shall counsel he kept between us? literally, in schoolboys' -language, 'Mum's the word--eh?' - -[188] Bell's edition. - -[189] Games which we now leave to children were formerly as popular with -grown-up people. Hunt-the-slipper and blind-man's-buff were 200 years ago -the common recreation of ladies and gentlemen, and wrestling and other -romping was indulged in far more commonly than now by young men. Playing -at ball was a favourite pastime. - -[190] Tyrwhitt. _Outrely_, utterly, beyond all things. _Vide_ the -French--_outre mesure_, beyond measure. The common mediæval expressions, -'_out of_ measure,' '_out of_ doubt,' were probably from the same word, -_outre_ = beyond. - -[191] Tyrwhitt. - -[192] Cast, as in '_cast_ a nativity,' means fix upon, arrange, discover. - -[193] Tyrwhitt. - -[194] Avicen, Ebn Sina, an Arabian physician of the 10th century. _Fen_, -apparently an Arabic word, is the name given to the sections of Avicenna's -great work on physic, entitled _Canun_.--_Tyrwhitt._ - -[195] A play on the word: light meant also fickle or untrue. - -[196] Tyrwhitt has treasure; Morris has _tresorere_, treasurer. The former -seems the most appropriate to a lady-love. A similar expression is found -in 'Li Congiés Adan d'Aras' (MS. de la Vallière, No. 2736 Bibl. Imp.), 'De -mon cuer serós tresoriere.' - -[197] Bereft of money as a friar's tonsure is of hair. - -[198] Bell's edition reads _tene_, taken. - -[199] Tyrwhitt's and Bell's editions. Morris has 'Do wel.' - -[200] Fortune with her wheel. - -[201] 'Kick against the pricks.' - -[202] For the clay pot is the weaker of the two. - -[203] Tyrwhitt. Morris has _daunte_ and _dauntest_ (Fr., _dompter_), -meaning control. - -[204] See 'Notes by the Way,' p. 103. - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - -Passages in italics are indicated by _italics_. - -The original text contains letters with diacritical marks that are not -represented in this text version. - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Chaucer for Children, by Mrs. H. R. 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R. Haweis—A Project Gutenberg eBook @@ -55,48 +55,7 @@ </style> </head> <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Chaucer for Children, by Mrs. H. R. Haweis - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Chaucer for Children - A Golden Key - -Author: Mrs. H. R. Haweis - -Illustrator: Mrs. H. R. Haweis - -Release Date: October 20, 2013 [EBook #43984] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHAUCER FOR CHILDREN *** - - - - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43984 ***</div> <p class="figcenter"><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /></p> @@ -8787,383 +8746,7 @@ meaning control.</p> <p><a name='f_204' id='f_204' href='#fna_204'>[204]</a> See ‘Notes by the Way,’ <a href="#Page_103">p. 103</a>.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Chaucer for Children, by Mrs. H. R. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Chaucer for Children - A Golden Key - -Author: Mrs. H. R. Haweis - -Illustrator: Mrs. H. R. Haweis - -Release Date: October 20, 2013 [EBook #43984] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHAUCER FOR CHILDREN *** - - - - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive.) - - - - - - - - - -CHAUCER FOR CHILDREN - - - - -KEY TO THE COVER. - - -The 1st Arch contains a glimpse of Palamon and Arcite fighting -desperately, yet wounded oftener and sharplier by Love's arrows than by -each deadly stroke. The ruthless boy aloft showers gaily upon them his -poisoned shafts. - -The 2nd contains Aurelius and Dorigen--that loving wife left on Breton -shores, who was so nearly caught in the trap she set for herself. Aurelius -offers her his heart aflame. It is true his attitude is humble, but she is -utterly in his power--she cannot get away whilst he is kneeling on her -dress. - -The 3rd represents the Summoner led away, but this time neither to profit -nor to pleasure, by his horned companion. The wicked spirit holds the -reins of both horses in his hand, and the Summoner already quakes in -anticipation of what is in store for him. - -The 4th contains the three rioters. The emblem of that Death they sought -so wantonly hangs over their heads; the reward of sin is not far off. - -The 5th Arch is too much concealed by the lock to do more than suggest one -of Griselda's babes. - -The KEY, from which the book takes its name, we trust may unlock the too -little known treasures of the first of English poets. The _Daisy_, symbol -for all time both of Chaucer and of children, and thus curiously fitted to -be the connecting link between them, may point the way to lessons fairer -than flowers in stories as simple as daisies. - - - - -_CHAUCER FOR CHILDREN_ - - - - -Demy 8vo, cloth limp, 2_s._ 6_d._ - -CHAUCER FOR SCHOOLS. - -By MRS. HAWEIS, Author of 'CHAUCER FOR CHILDREN.' - - _This is a copious and judicious selection from Chaucer's Tales, with - full notes on the history, manners, customs, and language of the - fourteenth century, with marginal glossary and a literal poetical - version in modern English in parallel columns with the original - poetry. Six of the Canterbury Tales are thus presented, in sections of - from 10 to 200 lines, mingled with prose narrative. 'Chaucer for - Schools' is issued to meet a widely-expressed want, and is especially - adapted for class instruction. It may be profitably studied in - connection with the maps and illustrations of 'Chaucer for Children.'_ - -'We hail with pleasure the appearance of Mrs. Haweis's "Chaucer for -Schools." Her account of "Chaucer the Tale-teller" is certainly the -pleasantest, chattiest, and at the same time one of the soundest -descriptions of the old master, his life and works and general -surroundings, that have ever been written. The chapter cannot be too -highly praised.'--ACADEMY. - -'The authoress is in such felicitous harmony with her task, that the young -student, who in this way first makes acquaintance with Chaucer, may well -through life ever after associate Mrs. Haweis with the rare productions of -the father of English poetry.'--SCHOOL-BOARD CHRONICLE. - -'Unmistakably presents the best means yet provided of introducing young -pupils to the study of our first great poet.'--SCOTSMAN. - -'In her "Chaucer for Schools" Mrs. Haweis has prepared a great assistance -for boys and girls who have to make the acquaintance of the poet. Even -grown people, who like their reading made easy for them, will find the -book a pleasant companion.'--GUARDIAN. - -'The subject has been dealt with in such a full and comprehensive way, -that the book must be commended to everyone whose study of early English -poetry has been neglected.'--DAILY CHRONICLE. - -'We venture to think that this happy idea will attract to the study of -Chaucer not a few children of a larger growth, who have found Chaucer to -be very hard reading, even with the help of a glossary and copious notes. -Mrs. Haweis's book displays throughout most excellent and patient -workmanship, and it cannot fail to induce many to make themselves more -fully acquainted with the writings of the father of English -literature.'--ECHO. - -'The book is a mine of poetic beauty and most scholarly explanation, which -deserves a place on the shelves of every school library.'--SCHOOL -NEWSPAPER. - -'For those who have yet to make the acquaintance of the sweet and quaint -singer, there could not well be a better book than this. Mrs. Haweis is, -of course, an enthusiast, and her enthusiasm is contagious. Her volume -ought to be included in all lists of school books--at least, in schools -where boys and girls are supposed to be laying the foundations of a -liberal education.'--LITERARY WORLD. - -'Mrs. Haweis has, by her "Chaucer for Schools," rendered invaluable -assistance to those who are anxious to promote the study of English -literature in our higher and middle-grade schools.... Although this -edition of Chaucer has been expressly prepared for school use, it will be -of great service to many adult readers.'--SCHOOL GUARDIAN. - - -CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY, W. - - - - -[Illustration: MINE HOST ASSEMBLING THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS. - -KNIGHT. SQUIRE. BOY. WIFE OF BATH. PRIORESS. CHAUCER (A CLERK). FRIAR. -MINE HOST. MONK. SUMMONER. PARDONER. SECOND NUN. FRANKLIN.] - - - - - CHAUCER FOR CHILDREN - - A Golden Key - - - BY MRS. H. R. HAWEIS - - - _ILLUSTRATED WITH EIGHT COLOURED PICTURES AND NUMEROUS WOODCUTS - BY THE AUTHOR_ - - - [Illustration: 'Doth now your devoir, yonge knightes proude!'] - - - A New Edition, Revised. - - - London - CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY - 1882 - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHIEFLY FOR THE USE AND PLEASURE OF MY LITTLE LIONEL, FOR WHOM I FELT THE -NEED OF SOME BOOK OF THE KIND, I HAVE ARRANGED AND ILLUSTRATED THIS -CHAUCER STORY-BOOK. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - FOREWORDS TO THE SECOND EDITION ix - - FOREWORDS xi - - CHAUCER THE TALE-TELLER 1 - - CANTERBURY TALES:-- - CHAUCER'S PILGRIMS 17 - CHAUCER'S PROLOGUE 18 - THE KNIGHT'S TALE 34 - THE FRIAR'S TALE 57 - THE CLERK'S TALE 65 - THE FRANKLIN'S TALE 84 - THE PARDONER'S TALE 92 - - MINOR POEMS:-- - COMPLAINT OF CHAUCER TO HIS PURSE 100 - TWO RONDEAUX 101 - VIRELAI 102 - GOOD COUNSEL OF CHAUCER 104 - - NOTES ON THE PICTURES 107 - - - - -List of Illustrations. - - -COLOURED PICTURES. - - PAGE - - I. PILGRIMS STARTING _Frontispiece_ - - II. DINNER IN THE OLDEN TIME _To face_ 2 - - III. LADY CROSSING THE STREET " 6 - - IV. FAIR EMELYE " 37 - - V. GRISELDA'S MARRIAGE " 69 - - VI. GRISELDA'S BEREAVEMENT " 72 - - VII. DORIGEN AND AURELIUS " 86 - - VIII. THE RIOTER " 97 - - CHAUCER'S PORTRAIT " 3 - - -WOODCUTS. - - PAGE - - I. TOURNAMENT _Title-page_ - - II. TABLE 2 - - III. HEAD-DRESSES 2 - - IV. MAPS OF OLD AND MODERN LONDON _To face_ 4 - - V. LADIES' HEAD-DRESSES 5 - - VI. SHOE 6 - - VII. JOHN OF GAUNT 7 - - VIII. SHIP 8 - - IX. STYLUS 10 - - X. THE KNIGHT 19 - - XI. THE SQUIRE 20 - - XII. THE YEOMAN 21 - - XIII. THE PRIORESS 22 - - XIV. THE MONK 24 - - XV. THE FRIAR 25 - - XVI. THE MERCHANT 26 - - XVII. THE CLERK 27 - - XVIII. THE SERJEANT-OF-LAW 28 - - XIX. THE FRANKLIN 28 - - XX. TABLE DORMANT 28 - - XXI. THE DOCTOR OF PHYSIC 29 - - XXII. THE WIFE OF BATH 29 - - XXIII. THE PARSON 30 - - XXIV. THE PLOUGHMAN 31 - - XXV. THE SUMMONER 31 - - XXVI. THE PARDONER 31 - - XXVII. MINE HOST 32 - - XXVIII., XXIX. KNIGHTS IN ARMOUR 48 - - - - -FOREWORDS TO THE SECOND EDITION. - - -In revising _Chaucer for Children_ for a New Edition, I have fully availed -myself of the help and counsel of my numerous reviewers and -correspondents, without weighting the book, which is really designed for -children, with a number of new facts, and theories springing from the new -facts, such as I have incorporated in my Book for older readers, _Chaucer -for Schools_. - -Curious discoveries are still being made, and will continue to be, thanks -to the labours of men like Mr. F. J. Furnivall, and many other able and -industrious scholars, encouraged by the steadily increasing public -interest in Chaucer. - -I must express my sincere thanks and gratification for the reception this -book has met with from the press generally, and from many eminent critics -in particular; and last, not least, from those to whom I devoted my -pleasant toil, the children of England. - -M. E. HAWEIS. - - - - -FOREWORDS. - - -To the Mother. - -A Chaucer for Children may seem to some an impossible story-book, but it -is one which I have been encouraged to put together by noticing how -quickly my own little boy learned and understood fragments of early -English poetry. I believe that if they had the chance, many other children -would do the same. - -I think that much of the construction and pronunciation of old English -which seems stiff and obscure to grown up people, appears easy to -children, whose crude language is in many ways its counterpart. - -The narrative in early English poetry is almost always very simply and -clearly expressed, with the same kind of repetition of facts and names -which, as every mother knows, is what children most require in -story-telling. The emphasis[1] which the final E gives to many words is -another thing which helps to impress the sentences on the memory, the -sense being often shorter than the sound. - -It seems but natural that every English child should know something of one -who left so deep an impression on his age, and on the English tongue, that -he has been called by Occleve "the finder of our fair language." For in -his day there was actually no _national_ language, no _national_ -literature, English consisting of so many dialects, each having its own -literature intelligible to comparatively few; and the Court and educated -classes still adhering greatly to Norman-French for both speaking and -writing. Chaucer, who wrote for the people, chose the best form of -English, which was that spoken at Court, at a time when English was -regaining supremacy over French; and the form he adopted laid the -foundation of our present National Tongue. - -Chaucer is, moreover, a thoroughly religious poet, all his merriest -stories having a fair moral; even those which are too coarse for modern -taste are rather _naive_ than injurious; and his pages breathe a genuine -faith in God, and a passionate sense of the beauty and harmony of the -divine work. The selections I have made are some of the most beautiful -portions of Chaucer's most beautiful tales. - -I believe that some knowledge of, or at least interest in, the domestic -life and manners of the 13th, 14th, and 15th centuries, would materially -help young children in their reading of English history. The political -life would often be interpreted by the domestic life, and much of that -time which to a child's mind forms the _dryest_ portion of history, -because so unknown, would then stand out as it really was, glorious and -fascinating in its vigour and vivacity, its enthusiasm, and love of beauty -and bravery. There is no clearer or safer exponent of the life of the 14th -century, as far as he describes it, than Geoffrey Chaucer. - -As to the difficulties of understanding Chaucer, they have been greatly -overstated. An occasional reference to a glossary is all that is -requisite; and, with a little attention to a very simple general rule, -anybody with moderate intelligence and an ear for musical rhythm can enjoy -the lines. - -In the first place, it must be borne in mind that the _E_ at the end of -the old English words was usually a syllable, and must be sounded, as -_Aprille_, _swoote_, &c. - -Note, then, that Chaucer is always _rhythmical_. Hardly ever is his rhythm -a shade wrong, and therefore, roughly speaking, _if you pronounce the -words so as to preserve the rhythm_ all will be well. When the final _e_ -must be sounded in order to make the rhythm right, sound it, but where it -is not needed leave it mute.[2] - -Thus:--in the opening lines-- - - Whan that | _April_ | _le_ with | his _schowr_ | _es_ swoote when, - showers, - sweet - The drought | of Marche | hath per | ced to | the roote pierced, - root - And bath | ud eve | ry veyne | in swich | licour such, - liquor - Of whiche | vertue | engen | dred is | the flour. (_Prologue._) flower - -You see that in those words which I have put in italics the final E must -be sounded slightly, for the rhythm's sake. - - And _sma_ | _le fow_ | _les_ ma | ken me | lodie small - birds - make - That sle | pen al | the night | with o | pen yhe. (_Prologue._) sleep, - all - -Again, to quote at random-- - - The bu | sy _lark_ | _e_ mess | ager | of day, lark, messenger - Salu | eth in | hire song | the _mor_ | _we_ gray. saluteth, her, - morning - - (_Knight's Tale._) - - Ful _long_ | _e_ wern | his leg | gus, and | ful lene; legs, lean - Al like | a staff | ther was | no calf | y-sene. (_Prologue--'Reve.'_) - -or in Chaucer's exquisite greeting of the daisy-- - - Knelyng | alwey | til it | unclo | sed was always - Upon | the _sma_ | _le_, _sof_ | _te_, _swo_ | _te_ gras. small, soft, - sweet - - (_Legend of Good Women._) - -How much of the beauty and natural swing of Chaucer's poetry is lost by -translation into modern English, is but too clear when that beauty is once -perceived; but I thought some modernization of the old lines would help -the child to catch the sense of the original more readily: for my own -rendering, I can only make the apology that when I commenced my work I did -not know it would be impossible to procure suitable modernized versions by -eminent poets. Finding that unattainable, I merely endeavoured to render -the old version in modern English as closely as was compatible with sense, -and the simplicity needful for a child's mind; and I do not in any degree -pretend to have rendered it in poetry. - -The beauty of such passages as the death of Arcite is too delicate and -evanescent to bear rough handling. But I may here quote some of the lines -as an example of the importance of the final _e_ in emphasizing certain -words with an almost solemn music. - - And with | that word | his _spech_ | _e fail_ | _e_ gan; speech, fail - For fro | his feete | up to | his brest | was come - The cold | of deth | that hadde | him o | ver nome; overtaken - And yet | moreo | ver in | his _ar_ | _mes_ twoo now, arms - The vi | tal strength | is lost, | and al | agoo. gone - Only | the in | tellect, | withou | ten more, without - That dwel | led in | his _her_ | _te_ sik | and sore, heart, sick - Gan _fayl_ | _e_ when | the _her_ | _te felt_ | _e_ deth. began to fail, - felt death - - (_Knight's Tale._) - -There is hardly anything finer than Chaucer's version of the story of -these passionate young men, up to the touching close of Arcite's accident -and the beautiful patience of death. In life nothing would have reconciled -the almost animal fury of the rivals, but at the last such a resignation -comes to Arcite that he gives up Emelye to Palamon with a sublime effort -of self-sacrifice. Throughout the whole of the Knight's Tale sounds as of -rich organ music seem to peal from the page; throughout the Clerk's Tale -one seems to hear strains of infinite sadness echoing the strange outrages -imposed on patient Grizel. But without attention to the rhythm half the -grace and music is lost, and therefore it is all-important that the child -be properly taught to preserve it. - -I have adhered generally to Morris's text (1866), being both good and -popular,[3] only checking it by his Clarendon Press edition, and by -Tyrwhitt, Skeat, Bell, &c., when I conceive force is gained, and I have -added a running glossary of such words as are not immediately clear, on a -level with the line, to disperse any lingering difficulty. - -In the pictures I have been careful to preserve the right costumes, -colours, and surroundings, for which I have resorted to the MSS. of the -time, knowing that a child's mind, unaided by the eye, fails to realize -half of what comes through the ear. Children may be encouraged to verify -these costumes in the figures upon many tombs and stalls, &c., in old -churches, and in old pictures. - -In conclusion I must offer my sincere and hearty thanks to many friends -for their advice, assistance, and encouragement during my work; amongst -them, Mr. A. J. Ellis, Mr. F. J. Furnivall, and Mr. Calderon. - -Whatever may be the shortcomings of the book, I cannot but hope that many -little ones, while listening to Chaucer's Tales, will soon begin to be -interested in the picturesque life of the middle ages, and may thus be led -to study and appreciate 'The English Homer'[4] by the pages I have written -for my own little boy. - - -ACCENT OF CHAUCER. - -The mother should read to the child a fragment of Chaucer with the correct -pronunciation of his day, of which we give an example below, inadequate, -of course, but sufficient for the present purpose. The whole subject is -fully investigated in the three first parts of the treatise on 'Early -English Pronunciation, with special reference to Shakespere and Chaucer,' -by Alexander J. Ellis, F.R.S. - -The _a_ is, as in the above languages, pronounced as in _ane_, _appeler_, -&c. _E_ commonly, as in _ecarte_, &c. The final _e_ was probably -indistinct, as in German now, _habe_, _werde_, &c.--not unlike the _a_ in -_China_: it was lost before a vowel. The final _e_ is still sounded by the -French in singing. In old French verse, one finds it as indispensable to -the rhythm as in Chaucer,--and as graceful,--hence probably the modern -retention of the letter as a syllable in vocal music. - - _Ou_ is sounded as the French _ou_. - - _I_ generally as on the Continent, _ee_: never as we sound it at - present. - - _Ch_ as in Scotch and German. - -I quote the opening lines of the Prologue as the nearest to hand. - - Whan that Aprille with his schowres swoote - The drought of Marche hath perced to the roote, - And bathud every veyne in swich licour, - Of which vertue engendred is the flour; - Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breethe - Enspirud hath in every holte and heethe - The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne - Hath in the Ram his halfe cours i-ronne, - And smale fowles maken melodie, - That slepen al the night with open yhe, - So priketh hem nature in here corages--&c. - - - Whan that Aprilla with his shoores sohta - The drookht of March hath pairsed to the rohta, - And bahthed ev'ry vin in sweech licoor, - Of which vairtu enjendred is the floor; - Whan Zephiroos aik with his swaita braitha - Enspeered hath in ev'ry holt and haitha - The tendra croppes, and the yoonga soonna - Hath in the Ram his halfa coors i-roonna, - And smahla fooles mahken melodee-a, - That slaipen al the nikht with ohpen ee-a, - So pricketh hem nahtur in heer corahges, &c. - -It will thus be seen that many of Chaucer's lines end with a -_dissyllable_, instead of a single syllable. _Sote_, _rote_, _brethe_, -_hethe_, &c. (having the final _e_), are words of two syllables; _corages_ -is a word of three, _ages_ rhyming with _pilgrimages_ in the next line. It -will also be apparent that some lines are lengthened with a syllable too -much for strict _metre_--a licence allowed by the best poets,--which, -avoiding as it does any possible approach to a doggrel sound, has a -lifting, billowy rhythm, and, in fact, takes the place of a 'turn' in -music. A few instances will suffice:-- - - 'And though that I no wepne have in this place.' - - 'Have here my troth, tomorwe I nyl not fayle, - Withouten wityng of eny other wight.' - - 'As any raven fether it schon for-blak.' - - 'A man mot ben a fool other yong or olde.' - -I think that any one reading these lines twice over as I have roughly -indicated, will find the accent one not difficult to practise; and the -perfect rhythm and ring of the lines facilitates matters, as the ear can -frequently guide the pronunciation. The lines can scarcely be read too -slowly or majestically. - -I must not here be understood to imply that difficulties in reading and -accentuating Chaucer are chimerical, but only that it is possible to -understand and enjoy him without as much difficulty as is commonly -supposed. In perusing the whole of Chaucer, there must needs be -exceptional readings and accentuation, which in detail only a student of -the subject would comprehend or care for. - -The rough rule suggested in the preface is a good one, as far as the -rhythm goes: as regards the sound, I have given a rough example. - -I will quote a fragment again from the Prologue as a second instance:-- - - Ther was also a nonne, a prioresse, - That of hire smylyng was ful symple and coy; - Hire gretteste ooth nas but by Seynte Loy; - And sche was cleped Madame Eglentyne. - Ful wel sche sang the servise devyne, - Entuned in hire nose ful semyly; - And Frensch sche spak ful faire and fetysly, - Aftur the scole of Stratford atte Bowe, - For Frensch of Parys was to hire unknowe. - - - Ther was ahlsoa a noon, a preeoressa, - That of her smeeling was fool sim-pland cooy; - Heer graitest ohth nas boot bee Si-ent Looy, - And shay was clepped Madam Eglanteena. - Fool well shay sang the _service divinae_, - Entuned in heer nohsa fool saimaly; - And French shai spahk fool fer and faitisly, - Ahfter the scohl of Strahtford ahtta Bow-a, - For French of Pahrees was toh her oon-know-a. - -Observe _simpland_ for _simple and_: simple being pronounced like a word -of one syllable. With the common English pronunciation the lines would not -scan. 'Vernicle,' 'Christofre,' 'wimple,' 'chilindre,' 'companable,' &c., -are further instances of this mute _e_, and may be read as French words. - - - - -CHAUCER THE TALE-TELLER. - - -I. - -Do you like hearing stories? I am going to tell you of some one who lived -a very long time ago, and who was a very wise and good man, and who told -more wonderful stories than I shall be able to tell _you_ in this little -book. But you shall hear some of them, if you will try and understand -them, though they are written in a sort of English different from what you -are accustomed to speak. - -But, in order that you really may understand the stories, I must first -tell you something about the man who made them; and also why his language -was not the same as yours, although it was English. His name was -Chaucer--Geoffrey Chaucer. You must remember his name, for he was so great -a man that he has been called the 'Father of English Poetry'--that is, the -beginner or inventor of all the poetry that belongs to our England; and -when you are grown up, you will often hear of Chaucer and his works. - - -II. - -Chaucer lived in England 500 years ago--a longer time than such a little -boy as you can even think of. It is now the year 1876, you know. Well, -Chaucer was born about 1340, in the reign of King Edward III. We should -quite have forgotten all Chaucer's stories in such a great space of time -if he had not written them down in a book. But, happily, he did write them -down; and so we can read them just as if he had only told them yesterday. - -If you could suddenly spring back into the time when Chaucer lived, what a -funny world you would find! Everybody was dressed differently then from -what people are now, and lived in quite a different way; and you might -think they were very uncomfortable, but they were very happy, because they -were accustomed to it all. - -People had no carpets in those days in their rooms. Very few people were -rich enough to have glass windows. There was no paper on the walls, and -very seldom any pictures; and as for spring sofas and arm-chairs, they -were unknown. The seats were only benches placed against the wall: -sometimes a chair was brought on grand occasions to do honour to a -visitor; but it was a rare luxury. - -The rooms of most people in those days had blank walls of stone or brick -and plaster, painted white or coloured, and here and there--behind the -place of honour, perhaps--hung a sort of curtain, like a large picture, -made of needlework, called tapestry. You may have seen tapestry hanging in -rooms, with men and women and animals worked upon it. That was almost the -only covering for walls in Chaucer's time. Now we have a great many other -ornaments on them, besides tapestry. - -The rooms Chaucer lived in were probably like every one's else. They had -bare walls, with a piece of tapestry hung here and there on them--a bare -floor, strewn with rushes, which must have looked more like a stable than -a sitting-room. But the rushes were better than nothing. They kept the -feet warm, as our carpets do, though they were very untidy, and not always -very clean. - -[Illustration] - -When Chaucer wanted his dinner or breakfast, he did not go to a big table -like that you are used to: the table came to him. A couple of trestles or -stands were brought to him, and a board laid across them, and over the -board a cloth, and on the cloth were placed all the curious dishes they -ate then. There was no such thing as coffee or tea. People had meat, and -beer, and wine for breakfast, and dinner, and supper, all alike. They -helped themselves from the common dish, and ate with their fingers, as -dinner-knives and forks were not invented, and it was thought a sign of -special good breeding to have clean hands and nails. Plates there were -none. But large flat cakes of bread were used instead; and when the meat -was eaten off them, they were given to the poor--for, being full of the -gravy that had soaked into them, they were too valuable to throw away. -When they had finished eating, the servants came and lifted up the board, -and carried it off. - - -III. - -And now for Chaucer himself! How funny you would think he looked, if you -could see him sitting in his house! He wore a hood, of a dark colour, with -a long tail to it, which in-doors hung down his back, and out of doors was -twisted round his head to keep the hood on firm. This tail was called a -liripipe. - -[Illustration] - -He did not wear a coat and trousers like your father's, but a sort of -gown, called a tunic, or dalmatic, which in one picture of him is grey and -loose, with large sleeves, and bright red stockings and black boots; but -on great occasions he wore a close-fitting tunic, with a splendid belt and -buckle, a dagger, and jewelled garters, and, perhaps, a gold circlet round -his hair. How much prettier to wear such bright colours instead of black! -men and women dressed in green, and red, and yellow then; and when they -walked in the streets, they looked as people look in pictures. - -[Illustration: DINNER IN THE OLDEN TIME.] - -[Illustration: GEOFFREY CHAUCER.] - -You may see how good and clever Chaucer was by his face; such a wise, -thoughtful, pleasant face! He looks very kind, I think, as if he would -never say anything harsh or bitter; but sometimes he made fun of people in -a merry way. Words of his own, late in life, show that he was rather fat, -his face small and fair. In manner he seemed 'elvish,' or shy, with a -habit of staring on the ground, 'as if he would find a hair.' - -All day he worked hard, and his spare time was given to 'studying and -reading alway,' till his head ached and his look became dazed. (_House of -Fame._) - -Chaucer lived, like you, in London. Whether he was born there is not -known;[5] but as his father, John Chaucer, was a vintner in Thames Street, -London, it is probable that he was. Not much is known about his parents or -family, except that his grandfather, Richard Chaucer, was also a vintner; -and his mother had an uncle who was a moneyer; so that he came of -respectable and well-to-do people, though not noble.[6] Whether he was -educated at Oxford or Cambridge, whether he studied for the bar or for the -Church, there is no record to show; but there is no doubt that his -education was a good one, and that he worked very hard at his books and -tasks, otherwise he could not have grown to be the learned and cultivated -man he was. We know that he possessed considerable knowledge of the -classics, divinity, philosophy, astronomy, as much as was then known of -chemistry, and, indeed, most of the sciences. French and Latin he knew as -a matter of course, for the better classes used these tongues more than -English--Latin for writing, and French for writing and speaking; for, by -his translations from the French, he earned, early in life, a 'balade' of -compliment from Eustache Deschamps, with the refrain, '_Grant translateur, -noble Geoffroi Chaucier_.' It is probable, too, that he knew Italian, for, -in his later life, we can see how he has been inspired by the great -Italian writers, Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio. - -It has recently been discovered that for a time (certainly in 1357) -Geoffrey Chaucer, being then seventeen, was a page[7] in the household of -Elizabeth, Countess of Ulster, wife of Lionel, second son of King Edward -III.; a position which he could not have held if he had not been a -well-born, or at least well-educated, person. A page in those days was -very different from what we call a page now--therefore we infer that the -Chaucer family had interest at Court; for without that, Geoffrey could -never have entered the royal service. - -Most gentlemen's sons were educated by becoming pages. They entered the -service of noble ladies, who paid them, or sometimes were even paid for -receiving them. Thus young men learned courtesy of manners, and all the -accomplishments of indoor and outdoor life--riding, the use of arms, -&c.--and were very much what an _aide-de-camp_ in the army now is. -Chaucer, you see, held a post which many a nobly-born lad must have -coveted. - -There is a doubtful tradition that Chaucer was intended for a lawyer, and -was a member of the Middle Temple (a large building in London, where a -great many lawyers live still), and here, as they say, he was once fined -two shillings for beating a Franciscan friar in Fleet Street. - -If this be true, it must have been rather a severe beating; for two -shillings was a far larger sum than it is now--equal to about sixteen -shillings of our money. Chaucer was sometimes angry with the friars at -later times in life, and deals them some hard hits in his writings with a -relish possibly founded on personal experience of some disagreeable friar. - -At any rate, Chaucer never got fond of the friars, and thought they were -often bad and mischievous men, who did not always _act_ up to what they -_said_. This is called _hypocrisy_, and is so evil a thing that Chaucer -was quite right to be angry with people who were hypocrites. - - -IV. - -Fleet Street still exists, though it was much less crowded with people in -Chaucer's day than now. Indeed, the whole of London was very different -from our London; and, oh, so much prettier! The streets within the London -wall were probably thickly populated, and not over-healthy; but outside -the wall, streets such as Fleet Street were more like the streets of some -of our suburbs, or rather some foreign towns--the houses irregular, with -curious pointed roofs, here and there divided by little gardens, and even -green fields. I dare say, when Chaucer walked in the streets, the birds -sang over his head, and the hawthorn and primrose bloomed where now the -black smoke and dust would soon kill most green things. Thames Street was -where Chaucer long lived in London, but, at one time in his life at least, -it is certain that he occupied a tenement at Aldgate, which formed part of -an old prison; and it is probable that at another he lived in the -beautiful Savoy Palace with John of Gaunt, whilst his wife was maid of -honour. In 1393, Chaucer was living at Greenwich, near which he had work -in 1390--poor and asking his friend Scogan to intercede for him "where it -would fructify;" and at the end of his life he had a house in Westminster, -said to be nearly on the same spot on which Henry VII.'s Chapel now -stands, and close to the Abbey where he is buried. - -In those days it was the fashion, when the month of May[8] arrived, for -everybody, rich and poor, to get up very early in the morning, to gather -boughs of hawthorn and laurel, to deck all the doorways in the street, as -a joyful welcoming of the sweet spring time. Chaucer alludes more than -once to this beautiful custom. The streets must have been full of -fragrance then. He also tells us how he loved to rise up at dawn in the -morning, and go into the fresh green fields, to see the daisies open. You -have often seen the daisies shut up at night, but I don't suppose you ever -saw them opening in the morning; and I am afraid, however early you got up -in London, you could not reach the fields quick enough to see that. But -you may guess from this how much nearer the country was to the town 500 -years ago. There were so many fewer houses built then, that within a walk -you could get right into the meadows. You may see that by comparing the -two maps I have made for you. - -London was also much quieter. There were no railways--such things had -never been heard of. There were not even any cabs or carriages. Sometimes -a market cart might roll by, but not very often, and then everybody would -run out to see what the unaccustomed clatter was all about. People had to -walk everywhere, unless they were rich enough to ride on horseback, or -lived near the river. In that case, they used to go in barges or boats on -the Thames, as far as they could; for, strange as it may seem, even the -King had no coach then. - -[Illustration: LONDON IN THE 15TH CENTURY.] - -[Illustration: LONDON IN THE 19TH CENTURY.] - -I am afraid Geoffrey Chaucer would not recognize that 'dere and swete -citye of London' in the great, smoky, noisy, bustling metropolis we are -accustomed to, and I am quite sure he would not recognize the language; -and presently I will explain what I meant by saving that though Chaucer -spoke and wrote English, it was quite different from what we speak now. -You will see, as you go on, how queerly all the words are spelt, so much -so that I have had to put a second version side by side with Chaucer's -lines, which you will understand more readily; and when I read them to -you, you will see how different is the sound. These words were all -pronounced slowly, almost with a drawl, while we nowadays have got to talk -so fast, that no one who lived then would follow what we say without great -difficulty. - - -V. - -Chaucer's connection with the Court makes it probable that he lived during -the greater part of his life in London; and it is pleasant to think that -this great poet was valued and beloved in his day by the highest powers in -the land. He held, at various times, posts in the King's household, which -brought him more or less money, such as valet of the King's chamber, the -King's esquire, &c.; and he found a fast friend in John of Gaunt, one of -the sons of King Edward III. - -In 1359 Chaucer became a soldier, and served in the army under this King, -in an attack upon France, and was taken prisoner. It is supposed he was -detained there about a year; and, being ransomed by Edward, when he came -back to England, he married a lady named Philippa. She was probably the -younger daughter of Sir Paon de Roet, of Hainault,[9] who came over to -England in the retinue of Queen Philippa, who was also of Hainault. These -two Philippas, coming from the same place, remained friends during all the -Queen's life; for when Chaucer married Philippa de Roet, she was one of -the Queen's maids of honour; and, after her marriage, the Queen gave her -an annual pension of ten marks[10] (L50), which was continued to her by -the King after Queen Philippa died. Some people say Chaucer's wife was -also the Queen's god-daughter.[11] - -[Illustration] - -If you would like to know what Chaucer's wife looked like, I will tell -you. I do not know what she was like in the face, but I can tell you the -fashion of the garb she wore. I like to believe she had long yellow hair, -which Chaucer describes so often and so prettily. Chaucer's wife wore one -of those funny head-dresses like crowns, or rather like boxes, over a gold -net, with her hair braided in a tress, hanging down her back. She had a -close green[12] dress, with tight sleeves, reaching right down over the -hand, to protect it from the sun and wind; and a very long skirt, falling -in folds about her feet, sometimes edged with beautiful white fur, ermine, -or a rich grey fur, called vair. The colour of this grey fur was much -liked, and when people had light grey eyes, of somewhat the same colour, -it was thought very beautiful. Many songs describe pretty ladies with -'eyes of vair.' - -[Illustration] - -When noble persons went to Court, they wore dresses far more splendid than -any to be seen now--dresses of all colours, worked in with flowers and -branches of gold, sometimes with heraldic devices and strange figures, and -perfectly smothered in jewels. No one has pearls, and emeralds, and -diamonds sewn on their gowns now; but in the fourteenth century, rich -people had the seams of their clothes often covered with gems. The ladies -wore close-fitting dresses, with splendid belts, or _seints_, round their -hips, all jewelled; and strings of glittering jewels hung round their -necks, and down from the belt, and on the head-dress. People did not wear -short sleeves then, but long ones, made sometimes very curiously with -streamers hanging from the elbow; a long thin gauze veil, shining with -silver and gold; and narrow pointed shoes, much longer than their feet, -which, they thought, made the foot look slender. If ladies had not had -such long shoes, they would never have showed beneath their long -embroidered skirts, and they would always have been stumbling when they -walked. It was a very graceful and elegant costume that Chaucer's wife -wore; but the laws of England probably forbade her to wear silk, which was -reserved for nobles. When she walked out of doors, she had tall clogs to -save her pretty shoes from the mud of the rough streets; and when she rode -on horseback with the Queen, or her husband Chaucer, she sat on a pillion, -and placed her feet on a narrow board called a _planchette_. Many women -rode astride, like the "Wife of Bath" whom Chaucer speaks of. - -Now, perhaps, you would like to know whether Chaucer had any little -children. We do not know much about Chaucer's children. We know he had a -little son called Lewis, because Chaucer wrote a treatise for him when he -was ten years old, to teach him how to use an instrument he had given him, -called an _astrolabe_.[13] Chaucer must have been very fond of Lewis, -since he took so much trouble for him, and he speaks to him very kindly -and lovingly. - -As Chaucer was married before 1366, it is likely that he had other -children; and some people say he had an elder son, named Thomas, and a -daughter Elizabeth.[14] - -John of Gaunt, who was Chaucer's patron as I told you, was very kind to -Thomas Chaucer, and gave him several posts in the King's household, as he -grew up to be a man. And John of Gaunt heard that Elizabeth Chaucer wished -to be a nun; and, in 1381, we find that he paid a large sum of money for -her _noviciate_ (that is, for her to learn to be a nun) in the Abbey of -Barking. - -[Illustration: A LADY CROSSING THE STREET IN THE OLDEN TIME.] - -A nun is a person who does not care for the amusements and pleasures which -other people care for--playing, and dancing, and seeing sights and many -people; but who prefers to go and live in a house called a nunnery, where -she will see hardly any one, and think of nothing but being good, and -helping the poor. And, if people think they can be good best in that way, -they ought to become nuns. But I think people can be just as good living -at home with their friends, without shutting themselves in a nunnery. - -Now I must leave off telling you about Chaucer's wife and children, and go -on to Chaucer himself. - - -VI. - -Chaucer was, as I told you, the friend of one of the sons of the King, -Edward III. Not the eldest son, who was, as you know, Edward the Black -Prince, the great warrior, nor Lionel, the third son, whom he had served -when a boy, but the fourth son, John of Gaunt, who had a great deal of -power with the King. - -[Illustration: John of Gaunt.] - -John of Gaunt was the same age as Chaucer. - -When John of Gaunt was only 19 (the year that Chaucer went with the army -to France), he married a lady called Blanche of Lancaster, and there were -famous joustings and great festivities of every kind. In this year, it has -been supposed, Chaucer wrote a poem, 'The Parliament of Birds,' to -celebrate the wedding. Another long poem, called 'The Court of Love,' is -said to have been written by him about this time--at any rate, in very -early life. - -When Chaucer came back to England, and got married himself, he was still -more constantly at Court, and there are many instances recorded of John's -attachment to both Chaucer and Philippa all his life. Among others we may -notice his gifts to Philippa of certain 'silver-gilt cups with covers,' on -the 1st of January in 1380, 1381, and 1382. - -It is touching to see how faithful these two friends were to each other, -and how long their friendship lasted. The first we hear of it was about -1359, the year when John married Blanche, and for forty years it remained -unbroken. Nay, it grew closer and closer, for in 1394, when John of Gaunt -and Chaucer were both middle-aged men, John married Philippa's sister (Sir -Paon Roet's elder daughter), so that Chaucer became John of Gaunt's -brother.[15] - -When John of Gaunt was in power he never forgot Chaucer. When he became -unpopular it was Chaucer's turn to be faithful to him; and faithful he -was, whatever he suffered, and he did suffer for it severely, and became -quite poor at times, as you will see. Directly John came into power again -up went Chaucer too, and his circumstances improved. There are few -friendships so long and so faithful on both sides as this was.[16] - - -VII. - -Chaucer was employed by Edward III. for many years as envoy, which is a -very important office. It can only be given to a very wise and shrewd man. -This proves the great ability of Chaucer in other things besides making -songs and telling stories. He had to go abroad, to France, Italy, and -elsewhere, on the King's private missions; and the King gave him money for -his services, and promoted him to great honour. - -On one occasion (1373) when he was sent to Florence, on an embassy, he is -supposed to have seen Petrarch, a great Italian poet and patriot, whose -name you must not forget. Petrarch was then living at Arqua, two miles -from Padua, a beautiful town in Italy; and though Petrarch was a much -older man than Chaucer--more than twenty years older--it seems only -natural that these two great men should have tried to see each other; for -they had much in common. Both were far-famed poets, and both, in a -measure, representatives of the politics, poetry, and culture of their -respective countries. - -Still, some people think they could never have met, because the journey -from Florence to Padua was a most difficult one. Travelling was hard work, -and sometimes dangerous, guides being always necessary: you could not get -a carriage at any price, for carriages were not invented. In some places -there was no means of going direct from city to city at all--not even on -horseback--there being actually no roads. So that people had to go on foot -or not at all. If they went, there were rocks and rivers to cross, which -often delayed travellers a long time. - -[Illustration] - -Chaucer, as the King's envoy, must have had attendants, even for safety's -sake, with him, and much luggage, and that would of course make travelling -more difficult and expensive. He most likely went a great part of the way -by sea, in a vessel coasting along the Mediterranean to Genoa and Leghorn, -and so by Pisa to Florence: you may trace his route in a map. Doubtless, -he had neither the means nor the will to go all the way to Padua on his -own account. So you see people hold different opinions about this journey, -and no one can be quite sure whether Chaucer did see Petrarch or not. - -In 1373 Chaucer wrote his 'Life of St. Cecile;' and about that time, -perhaps earlier, the 'Complaint to Pity.' - - -VIII. - -I am not going to tell you everything that the King and John of Gaunt did -for Chaucer. You would get tired of hearing about it. I will only say that -Chaucer was 'holden in greate credyt,' and probably had a real influence -in England; for, connected as he was with John of Gaunt, I dare say he -gave him advice and counsel, and John showed the King how shrewd and -trustworthy Chaucer was, and persuaded him to give him benefits and money. - -John's wife, Blanche of Lancaster, died in 1369, and so did his mother, -Queen Philippa. Chaucer wrote a poem called 'The Death of Blanche the -Duchess,' in honour of this dead Blanche. John married another wife in the -next year, and got still more powerful, and was called King of Castile, in -Spain, because his new wife was the daughter of a King of Castile. But all -this made no difference in his affection for Chaucer. He always did what -he could for Chaucer. - -I will give you some instances of this. - -Soon after Chaucer's return from his journey to Florence, he received a -grant of 'a pitcher of wine' every day 'from the hands of the King's -butler.' This seems like a mark of personal friendship more than formal -royal bounty; but it was worth a good deal of money a year. Less than two -months afterwards he received, through John of Gaunt's goodwill, a place -under Government called 'Comptrollership of the Customs' of the Port of -London. This was a very important post, and required much care, -shrewdness, and vigilance; and the King made it a condition that all the -accounts of his office were to be entered in Chaucer's own -handwriting--which means, of course, that Chaucer was to be always -present, seeing everything done himself, and never leaving the work to be -done by anybody else, except when sent abroad by the King's own royal -command. Only three days after this, John of Gaunt himself made Chaucer a -grant of L10 a year for life, in reward for all the good service rendered -by 'nostre bien ame Geffray Chaucer,' and 'nostre bien ame Philippa sa -femme,' to himself, his duchess, and to his mother, Queen Philippa, who -was dead. This sum of money does not sound much; but it was a great deal -in those days, and was fully equal to L100 now. - -The very next year the King gave Chaucer the 'custody' of a rich ward (a -ward is a person protected or maintained by another while under age), -named Edmond Staplegate, of Kent; and when this ward married, Chaucer -received a large sum of money (L104 = L1,040).[17] - -Then Chaucer's care in the Customs' office detected a dishonest man, who -tried to ship wool abroad without paying the lawful duty; this man was -fined for his dishonesty, and the money, L71 4_s._ 6_d._, was made a -present to Chaucer--a sum equal to L700. - -So you see it seemed as if John of Gaunt could never do enough for him; -because all these things, if not done by John himself, were probably due -to his influence with the King. - - -IX. - -The Black Prince died about that time, and Edward III. did not long -survive him. He died in 1377. Then the Black Prince's little son, Richard, -who was only eleven years old, became King of England; but as he was too -young to reign over the country, his three uncles governed for him. These -three uncles were John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster; the Duke of York; and -the Duke of Gloucester. - -And all this time Chaucer was very well looked after, you may be sure, for -John of Gaunt was then more powerful than the King. Chaucer was still -Comptroller of the Customs; and, before long, John gave him a second post -of a similar kind, called 'Comptroller of the Petty Customs.' - -But all this good luck was not to go on for ever. The people were not so -fond of John of Gaunt as Chaucer was, because, in governing them, he was -very ambitious and severe. They got angry with everything he did, and with -everybody who remained his friend. So, of course, they did not like -Chaucer. - -This was a very troublous time. The Crown (represented by the King's -uncles) wanted one thing, and the great barons wanted another, and the -people or lower classes wanted another! These were called the three great -opposing parties, and each wanted to have all the power. At last some of -the barons sided with the King's party, and others sided with the people; -so there were then _two_ opposing parties quarrelling and hating each -other. John of Gaunt would have liked to be King himself; but the people -were unhappy, and very discontented with his government, and he began to -have much less power in the kingdom. - -The people knew that John of Gaunt was obliged to go with an army into -Portugal, and they began to make plans to get their own way when his back -was turned. When he was gone, they said that John of Gaunt did not govern -them well, and had given government posts to men who did not do their -duty, and neglected their work, and Chaucer was one of them. - -Then there was what was called a 'Commission of Inquiry' appointed, which -means a body of men who were free to examine and reform everything they -chose in the country. Their power was to last a whole year; and these men -looked into all that Chaucer had done in the 'Customs' offices. They did -not find anything wrong, as far as we know, but still they sent away -Chaucer in disgrace, just as if they had. And this made him very poor. It -was a harsh thing to do, and unjust, if they were not certain he had been -neglecting his work; and John of Gaunt was out of the country, and could -not help him now. This was in the year 1386. - -A great deal has been said and written about this matter. Some people -still believe that Chaucer really did neglect his duties, though the -conditions that he should attend to everything himself had been so very -strict;[18] that he had probably absented himself, and let things go -wrong. But such people forget that these conditions were formally done -away with in 1385, when Chaucer was finally released from personal -drudgery at the Customs, and allowed to have a _deputy_, or person under -him to do his work. - -They forget, too, how Chaucer had plunged into political matters directly -afterwards, at a time when party feeling was intensely strong, the people -and John of Gaunt being violently opposed to each other; and how Chaucer -took up the part of his friend warmly, and sat in the House of Commons as -representative of Kent, one of the largest counties of England, on purpose -to support the ministers who were on John of Gaunt's side. This alone -would be enough to make the opposing party hate Chaucer, and this -doubtless was the reason of their dismissing him from both his offices in -the Customs as soon as ever they were able, to punish him for his -attachment to the Duke of Lancaster's (John of Gaunt's) cause. - -[Illustration: Stylus.] - -But Chaucer never wavered or changed. And his faithfulness to his friend -deserves better than the unjust suspicion that his disgrace was warranted -by neglect of his duties. Chaucer was too good, and too pious, and too -honourable a man to commit any such act. He submitted to his disgrace and -his poverty unmoved; and after the death of his wife Philippa, which -happened in the following summer, nothing is known of him for several -years, except that he was in such distress that he was actually obliged to -part with his two pensions for a sum of money in order to pay his debts. - -During all the eventful years that followed Edward III.'s death, up to -this time, Chaucer had been writing busily, in the midst of his weightier -affairs. The 'Complaint of Mars,' 'Boece,' 'Troilus and Cressida,' the -'House of Fame,' and the 'Legend of Good Women,' all of which I hope you -will read some day, were written in this period; also some reproachful -words to his scrivener, who seems to have written out his poems for him -very carelessly. Some persons think that Chaucer's pathetic 'Good -Counsel,' and his short 'Balade sent to King Richard,' reflect the -disappointment and sadness at his changed lot, which he must have felt; -and that, therefore, these poems were written at about the same time. - - -X. - -In 1389 there was another great change in the government. The King, being -of age, wished to govern the country without help, and he sent away one of -his uncles, who was on the people's side, and asked John of Gaunt to come -back to England. John of Gaunt's son was made one of the new ministers. -Immediately Chaucer was thought of. He was at once appointed Clerk of the -King's Works--an office of some importance--which he was permitted to hold -by deputy; and his salary was two shillings per day--that is L36 10_s._ -0_d._ a-year, equal to about L370 of our money. - -It seems that Chaucer kept this appointment only for two years. Why, we -cannot tell.[19] While he held this office (viz., Sept. 1390)a misfortune -befell him. Some notorious thieves attacked him, near the 'foule Ok' (foul -Oak), and robbed him of L20 (nearly L200 present currency) of the King's -money, his horse, and other movables. This was a mishap likely enough to -overtake any traveller in those days of bad roads and lonely marshes, for -there was no great protection by police or soldiery in ordinary cases. The -King's writ, in which he forgives Chaucer this sum of L20, is still -extant. - -What he did, or how he lived, for some time after his retirement from the -King's Works in 1391, is not known; but in 1394, King Richard granted him -a pension of L20 (= L200 present currency) per annum for life. This was -the year when John of Gaunt married Chaucer's sister-in-law; but, in spite -of this rich alliance, I fear Chaucer was still in great distress, for we -hear of many small loans which he obtained on this new pension during the -next four years, which betray too clearly his difficulties. In 1398, the -King granted him letters to protect him against arrest--that is, he wrote -letters forbidding the people to whom Chaucer owed money to put him in -prison, which they would otherwise have done. - -It is sad that during these latter years of his life, the great poet who -had done so much, and lived so comfortably, should have grown so poor and -harassed. He ought to have been beyond the reach of want. He had had large -sums of money; his wife's sister was Duchess of Lancaster; his son[20] was -holding grants and offices under John of Gaunt. Perhaps he wasted his -money.[21] But we cannot know exactly how it all came about at this -distance of time. And one thing shows clearly how much courage and -patience Chaucer had; for it was when he was in such want in 1388, two -years after he had been turned out of the Customs, that he was busiest -with the greatest work of his life, called the CANTERBURY TALES. Some men -would have been too sad after so much disgrace and trouble, to be able to -write stories and verses; but I think Chaucer must have felt at peace in -his mind--he must have known that he did not deserve all the ill-treatment -he got--and had faith that God would bring him through unstained. - - -XI. - -The CANTERBURY TALES are full of cheerfulness and fun; full of love for -the beautiful world, and full of sympathy for all who are in trouble or -misery. The beauty of Chaucer's character, and his deep piety, come out -very clearly in these tales, as I think you will see. No one could have -sung the 'ditties and songs glad' about birds in the medlar trees, and the -soft rain on the 'small sweet grass,' and the 'lily on her stalk green,' -and the sweet winds that blow over the country, whose mind was clouded by -sordid thoughts, and narrow, selfish aims. No one could have sung so -blithely of 'fresh Emily,' and with such good-humoured lenity even of the -vulgar, chattering 'Wife of Bath,' whose heart was full of angry feelings -towards his fellow-creatures. And no one, who was not in his heart a -religious man, could have breathed the words of patience with which Arcite -tries to comfort his friend, in their gloomy prison--or the greater -patience of poor persecuted Griselda--or the fervent love of truth and -honourable dealing, and a good life, which fills so many of his poems--or -a hundred other touching prayers and tender words of warning. There was a -large-heartedness and liberality about Chaucer's mind, as of one who had -mixed cheerfully with all classes, and saw good in all. His tastes were -with the noble ranks among whom he had lived; but he had deep sympathy -with the poor and oppressed, and could feel kindly even to the coarse and -the wicked. He hated none but hypocrites; and he was never tired of -praising piety and virtue. - -Chaucer wrote a great many short poems, which I have not told you of. Many -have been lost or forgotten. Some may come back to us in the course of -time and search. All we know of, you will read some day, with the rest of -the CANTERBURY TALES not in this book: a few of these poems I have placed -at the end of the volume; and among them one 'To his empty Purse,' written -only the year before his death.[22] - -There is only a little more I can tell you about Chaucer's life before we -begin the stories. We got as far as 1398, when the King gave Chaucer -letters of protection from his creditors. - -About this time another grant of wine was bestowed on him, equal to about -L4 a year, or L40 of our money. In the next year, King Richard, who had -not gained the love of his subjects, nor tried to be a good King, was -deposed--that is, the people were so angry with him that they said, "You -shall not be our King any more;" and they shut him up in a tower, and made -his cousin, Henry, King of England. Now this Henry was the son of John of -Gaunt, by his first wife, Blanche, and had been very badly treated by his -cousin, the King. He was a much better man than Richard, and the people -loved him. John of Gaunt did not live to see his son King, for he died -while Henry was abroad; and it must have been a real grief to Chaucer, -then an old man of sixty,[23] when this long and faithful friend was taken -from him. - -Still it is pleasant to find that Henry of Lancaster shared his father's -friendship for Chaucer. I dare say he had been rocked on Chaucer's knee -when a little child, and had played with Chaucer's children. He came back -from France, after John of Gaunt's death, and the people made him King, -and sent King Richard to the castle of Pomfret (where I am sorry to say he -was afterwards murdered). - -The new King had not been on the throne four days before he helped -Chaucer. John of Gaunt himself could not have done it quicker. He granted -him an annuity of L26 13_s._ 4_d._ a year, in addition to the other L20 -granted by Richard. - -The royal bounty was only just in time, for poor old Chaucer did not long -survive his old friend, the Duke of Lancaster. He died about a year after -him, when Henry had been King thirteen months. - -John of Gaunt was buried in St. Paul's, by the side of his first and -best-loved wife, Blanche; Geoffrey Chaucer was buried in Westminster -Abbey. - -So ended the first, and almost the greatest, English writer, of whom no -one has spoken an ill word, and who himself spoke no ill words. - -Poet, soldier, statesman, and scholar, 'truly his better ne his pere, in -school of my rules could I never find.... In goodness of gentle, manly -speech he passeth all other makers.'[24] - - -XII. - -And now for Chaucer's 'speech.' How shall I show you its 'goodness,' since -it is so difficult to read this old English? Wait a bit. You will soon -understand it all, if you take pains at the first beginning. Do not be -afraid of the funny spelling, for you must remember that it is not so much -that Chaucer spells differently from us, as that we have begun to spell -differently from Chaucer. He would think our English quite as funny, and -not half so pretty as his own; for the old English, when spoken, sounded -very pretty and stately, and not so much like a 'gabble' as ours. - -I told you a little while ago, you know, that our talking is much faster -than talking was in Chaucer's time; it seems very curious that a language -can be so changed in a few hundred years, without people really meaning to -change it. But it has changed gradually. Little by little new words have -come into use, and others have got 'old-fashioned.' Even the English of -_one_ hundred years ago was very unlike our own. But the English of _five_ -hundred years ago was, of course, still more unlike. - - -XIII. - -Now, I have put, as I told you, two versions of Chaucer's poetry on the -page, side by side. First, the lines as Chaucer made them, and then the -same lines in English such as we speak. You can thus look at both, and -compare them. - -I will also read you the verses in the two ways of pronouncing them, -Chaucer's way and our way: but when you have grown a little used to the -old-fashioned English, you will soon see how much prettier and more -musical it sounds than our modern tongue, and I think you will like it -very much. Besides, it is nice to be able to see the words as Chaucer put -them, so as to know exactly how he talked. - -In Chaucer's time a great deal of French was spoken in England, and it was -mixed up with English more than it is now. The sound of old French and old -English were something the same, both spoken very slowly, with a kind of -drawl, as much as to say--"I am in no hurry. I have all day before me, and -if you want to hear what I have got to say, you must wait till I get my -words out." - -So if you wish to hear Chaucer's stories, you must let him tell them in -his own way, and try and understand his funny, pretty language. And if you -do not pronounce the words as he meant, you will find the verses will -sound quite ugly--some lines being longer than others, and some not even -rhyming, and altogether in a jumble. - - -XIV. - -Chaucer himself was very anxious that people should read his words -properly, and says in his verses, as if he were speaking to a human -being-- - - And for there is so grete dyversite great diversity - In Englissh,[25] and in writynge of our tonge, tongue - So preye I God that non miswrite thee pray - Ne thee mys-metere for defaute of tonge. (_Troilus._) defect - -To _mis-metre_ is to read the _metre_ wrong; and the metre is the length -of the line. If you read the length all wrong, it sounds very ugly. - -Now, suppose those lines were read in modern English, they would run -thus:-- - - And because there is so great a diversity - In English, and in writing our tongue, - So I pray God that none miswrite thee - Nor mismetre thee through defect of tongue. - -How broken and ragged it all sounds! like a gown that is all ragged and -jagged, and doesn't fit. It sounds much better to read it properly. - -You will find that when Chaucer's words are rightly pronounced, all his -lines are of an even length and sound pretty. I don't think he ever fails -in this. This is called having a musical ear. Chaucer had a musical ear. -Some people who write poetry have not, and their poetry is good for -nothing. They might as well try to play the piano without a musical ear; -and a pretty mess they would make of that![26] - - -XV. - -When you find any very hard word in Chaucer's verses which you cannot -understand, look in the glossary and the modern version beside them; and -you will see what is the word for it nowadays. A few words which cannot be -translated within the metre you will find at the bottom of the page; but -think for yourself before you look. There is nothing like thinking for -one's self. Many of the words are like French or German words: so if you -have learnt these languages you will be able often to guess what the word -means. - -For instance, you know how, in French, when you wish to say, I _will not_ -go or I _am not_ sure, two no's are used, _ne_ and _pas_: Je _n_'irai -_pas_, or je _ne_ suis _pas_ sur. Well, in Chaucer's time two no's were -used in English. He would have said, "I _n_'ill _nat_ go," and "I _n_'am -_nat_ sure." - -There are many lines where you will see two no's. "I n'am nat precious." -"I ne told no deintee." "I wol not leve no tales." "I ne owe hem not a -word." "There n'is no more to tell," &c. Sometimes, however, _ne_ is used -by itself, without _not_ or _nat_ to follow. As "it n'is good," "I n'ill -say--or sain," instead of "it is not good--I will not say." - -And, as in this last word sain (which only means _say_), you will find -often an _n_ at the end of words, which makes it difficult to understand -them; but you will soon cease to think that a very alarming difficulty if -you keep looking at the modern version. As, "I shall nat _lien_" (this -means _lie_). "I wol nat _gon_" (_go_): "_withouten_ doubt" (_without_). -"Ther wold I _don_ hem no pleasance" (_do_); "thou shalt _ben_ quit" -(_be_). "I shall you _tellen_" (_tell_). - -And I think you will also be able to see how much better some old words -are for expressing the meaning, than our words. For instance, how much -nicer 'flittermouse' is than 'bat.' That is an old North-country word, and -very German (Fledermaus). When you see a little bat flying about, you know -it is a bat because you have been told: but 'flitter-mouse' is better than -bat, because it means 'floating mouse.' Now, a bat _is_ like a mouse -floating in the air. The word expresses the movement and the form of the -creature. - -Again--the old word 'herteles' (heartless), instead of without courage, -how well it expresses the want of courage or spirit: we often say people -have no heart for work, or no heart for singing, when they are sad, or -ill, or weak. Heartless does not always mean cowardly; it means that the -person is dejected, or tired, or out of spirits. We have left off using -the word heartless in that sense, however, and we have no word to express -it. When _we_ say heartless, we mean cruel or unkind, which is a perfectly -different meaning. - -Again, we have no word now for a meeting-time or appointment, as good as -the old word 'steven:' we use the French word '_rendezvous_' as a noun, -which is not very wise. 'Steven' is a nice, short, and really English word -which I should like to hear in use again. - -One more instance. The word 'fret' was used for devouring. This just -describes what we call 'nibbling' now. The moth fretting a garment--means -the moth devouring or nibbling a garment. - -This is a word we have lost sight of now in the sense of _eating_; we only -use it for 'complaining' or 'pining.' But a _fretted_ sky--and the _frets_ -on a guitar--are from the old Saxon verb _frete_, to eat or devour, and -describe a wrinkly uneven surface, like the part of a garment fretted by -the moth. So you must not be impatient with the old words, which are -sometimes much better for their purpose than the words we use nowadays. - - - - -CANTERBURY TALES. - - - - -CHAUCER'S PILGRIMS. - - -Some of Chaucer's best tales are not told by himself. They are put into -the mouths of other people. In those days there were no newspapers--indeed -there was not much news--so that when strangers who had little in common -were thrown together, as they often were in inns, or in long journeys, -they had few topics of conversation: and so they used to entertain each -other by singing songs, or quite as often by telling their own adventures, -or long stories such as Chaucer has written down and called the -'_Canterbury Tales_.' - -The reason he called them the '_Canterbury Tales_' was because they were -supposed to be told by a number of travellers who met at an inn, and went -together on a pilgrimage to a saint's shrine at Canterbury. - -But I shall now let Chaucer tell you about his interesting company in his -own way. - -He begins with a beautiful description of the spring--the time usually -chosen for long journeys, or for any new undertaking, in those days. - -When you go out into the gardens or the fields, and see the fresh green of -the hedges and the white May blossoms and the blue sky, think of Chaucer -and his Canterbury Pilgrims! - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -Chaucer's Prologue. - - - Whan that Aprille with his schowres swoote When, sweet - The drought of Marche hath perced to the roote, root - And bathud every veyne in swich licour, such liquor - Of which vertue engendred is the flour; flower - Whan Zephirus[27] eek with his swete breeth also, breath - Enspirud hath in every holte and heeth grove - The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne young - Hath in the Ram his halfe cours i-ronne, run - And smale fowles maken melodie, small birds make - That slepen al the night with open yhe, sleep, eye - So priketh hem nature in here corages:-- pricketh them, - their impulses - Thanne longen folk to gon on pilgrimages, long, go - And palmers[28] for to seeken straunge strondes, seek, shores - To ferne halwes, kouthe[29] in sondry londes; distant saints - And specially from every schires ende - Of Engelond, to Canturbury they wende, go - The holy blisful martir[30] for to seeke, blessed, seek - That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke. them, sick - - - When April hath his sweetest showers brought - To pierce the heart of March and banish drought, - Then every vein is bathed by his power, - With fruitful juice engendering the flower; - When the light zephyr, with its scented breath, - Stirs to new life in every holt and heath - The tender crops, what time the youthful sun - Hath in the Ram his course but half-way run; - And when the little birds make melody, - That sleep the whole night long with open eye, - So Nature rouses instinct into song,-- - Then folk to go as pilgrims greatly long, - And palmers hasten forth to foreign strands - To worship far-off saints in sundry lands; - And specially from every shire's end - Of England, unto Canterbury they wend, - Before the blessed martyr there to kneel, - Who oft hath help'd them by his power to heal. - -It happened that one day in the spring, as I was resting at the Tabard[31] -Inn, in Southwark, ready to go on my devout pilgrimage to Canterbury, -there arrived towards night at the inn a large company of all sorts of -people--nine-and-twenty of them: they had met by chance, all being -pilgrims to Canterbury.[32] The chambers and the stables were roomy, and -so every one found a place. And shortly, after sunset, I had made friends -with them all, and soon became one of their party. We all agreed to rise -up early, to pursue our journey together.[33] - -But still, while I have time and space, I think I had better tell you who -these people were, their condition and rank, which was which, and what -they looked like. I will begin, then, with - - -The Knight. - -[Illustration] - - A KNIGHT[34] ther was and that a worthy man, there, valuable - That from the tyme that he ferst bigan - To ryden out, he lovede chyvalrye, ride - Trouthe and honour, fredom and curtesie. frankness - Ful worthi was he in his lordes werre, war - And therto hadde he riden, noman ferre, further - As wel in Cristendom as in hethenesse, - And evere honoured for his worthinesse. - - - A knight there was, and that a worthy man, - Who from the time in which he first began - To ride afield, loved well all chivalry, - Honour and frankness, truth and courtesy. - Most worthy was he in his master's war, - And thereto had he ridden, none more far, - As well in Christian as in heathen lands, - And borne with honour many high commands. - -He had been at Alexandria when it was won: in Prussia he had gained great -honours, and in many other lands. He had been in fifteen mortal battles, -and had fought in the lists for our faith three times, and always slain -his foe. He had served in Turkey and in the Great Sea. And he was always -very well paid too. Yet, though so great a soldier, he was wise in -council; and in manner he was gentle as a woman. Never did he use bad -words in all his life, to any class of men: in fact - - He was a verray perfight, gentil knight. - - - He was a very perfect, noble knight. - -As for his appearance, his horse was good, but not gay. He wore a gipon of -fustian, all stained by his habergeon;[35] for he had only just arrived -home from a long voyage. - - -The Squire. - -[Illustration] - - With him ther was his sone, a yong SQUYER, there, son - A lovyer, and a lusty bacheler,[36] merry - With lokkes crulle as they were layde in presse. locks curled - Of twenty yeer he was of age I gesse. guess - Of his stature he was of evene lengthe, - And wondurly delyver, and gret of strengthe. wonderfully - nimble, great - And he hadde ben somtyme in chivachie,[37] had been - In Flaundres, in Artoys, and in Picardie, - And born him wel, as in so litel space, little - In hope to stonden in his lady grace.[38] stand - Embrowdid[39] was he, as it were a mede - Al ful of fresshe floures, white and reede. - Syngynge he was, or flowtynge al the day; playing on the - flute - He was as fressh as is the moneth of May. - Schort was his goune, with sleeves long and wyde. - Wel cowde he sitte on hors, and faire ryde. could, horse - He cowde songes wel make and endite, relate - Justne and eek daunce, and wel purtray and write. also, draw - pictures - - - With him there was his son, a gay young squire, - A bachelor and full of boyish fire, - With locks all curl'd as though laid in a press, - And about twenty years of age, I guess. - In stature he was of an even length, - And wonderfully nimble, and great of strength. - And he had followed knightly deeds of war - In Picardy, in Flanders, and Artois, - And nobly borne himself in that brief space, - In ardent hope to win his lady's grace. - Embroidered was he, as a meadow bright, - All full of freshest flowers, red and white; - Singing he was, or flute-playing all day, - He was as fresh as is the month of May. - Short was his gown, his sleeves were long and wide, - Well he became his horse, and well could ride; - He could make songs, and ballads, and recite, - Joust and make pretty pictures, dance, and write. - -As for the young squire's manners-- - - Curteys he was, lowly, and servysable, - And carf[40] byforn his fadur at the table. carved - - - Courteous he was, lowly, and serviceable, - And carved before his father at the table. - - -The Yeoman. - -[Illustration] - - A YEMAN had he, and servantes nomoo no more - At that tyme, for him luste ryde soo; it pleased him - And he was clad in coote and hood of grene. - A shef of pocok arwes[41] bright and kene, arrows - Under his belte he bar ful thriftily, bore - Wel cowde he dresse his takel yomanly; arrow - His arwes drowpud nought with fetheres lowe,[42] arrows - And in his hond he bar a mighty bowe. bore - A not-heed hadde he, with a broun visage. v. notes, p. 111. - Of woode-craft cowde he wel al the usage; knew - Upon his arme he bar a gay bracer,[43] bore - And by his side a swerd, and a bokeler,[44] buckler - And on that other side a gay daggere, - Harneysed wel, and scharp at poynt of spere; dressed well - A Cristofre on his brest of silver schene. ornament - representing - St. Christopher - An horn he bar, the bawdrik[45] was of grene: - A forster was he sothely, as I gesse. forester, truly - - - A yeoman had he (but no suite beside: - Without attendants thus he chose to ride,) - And he was clad in coat and hood of green. - A sheaf of peacock-arrows bright and keen, - Under his belt he carried thriftily; - Well could he dress an arrow yeomanly! - None of his arrows drooped with feathers low - And in his hand he held a mighty bow. - A knot-head had he, and a sunburnt hue, - In woodcraft all the usages he knew; - Upon his arm a bracer gay he wore, - And by his side buckler and sword he bore, - While opposite a dagger dangled free; - Polished and smart, no spear could sharpe be. - A silver 'Christopher' on his breast was seen, - A horn he carried by a baldrick green: - He was a thorough forester, I guess. - - -The Prioress. - -[Illustration] - - Ther was also a Nonne, a PRIORESSE, - That of hire smylyng was ful symple and coy; her - Hire grettest ooth[46] ne was but by seynt Loy, oath - And sche was cleped madame Eglentyne. called - Ful wel sche sang the servise devyne, - Entuned in hire nose[47] ful semyly, seemly - And Frensch sche spak ful faire and fetysly, elegantly - Aftur the scole of Stratford atte Bowe, school - For Frensch of Parys was to hire unknowe. her unknown - At mete wel i-taught was sche withalle; meat, taught - Sche leet no morsel from hire lippes falle, let - Ne wette hire fyngres in hire sauce deepe.[48] wetted - Wel cowde sche carie a morsel, and wel keepe, carry - That no drope ne fil uppon hire breste. fell - In curtesie was sett al hire leste. courtesy, - pleasure - Hire overlippe wypude sche so clene,[49] - That in hire cuppe ther was no ferthing sene scrap - Of grees, whan sche dronken hadde hire draught. had drunk - Ful semely aftur hire mete sche raught. seemly - And sikurly sche was of gret disport, assuredly - And ful plesant, and amyable of port, - And peyned hire to counterfete cheere ways - Of court, and ben estatlich of manere, stately, manner - And to ben holden digne of reverence. worthy - But for to speken of hire conscience, speak - Sche was so charitable and so pitous[50] - Sche wolde weepe if that sche sawe a mous - Caught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde. - Of smale houndes hadde sche, that sche fedde small hounds - With rostud fleissh, and mylk, and wastel breed.[51] - But sore wepte sche if oon of hem were deed, them - Or if men smot it with a yerde smerte: rod - And al was conscience and tendre herte. - Ful semely hire wymple[52] i-pynched was: - Hire nose tretys: hire eyen grey as glas: well-proportioned, - eyes, glass - Hire mouth ful smal, and therto softe and reed; - But sikurly sche hadde a faire forheed. surely - It was almost a spanne brood, I trowe: broad, think - For hardily sche was not undurgrowe. certainly, - undergrown - Ful fetys was hire cloke, as I was waar. neat - Of smal coral aboute hire arme sche baar small - A peire of bedes[53] gaudid al with grene; set of beads - And theron heng a broch of gold ful schene, jewel, bright - On which was first i-writen a crowned A, written - And after that, _Amor vincit omnia_.[54] - - - There also was a Nun, a Prioress, - Who of her smiling was most simple and coy; - Her greatest oath was only 'by St. Loy,' - And she was called Madame Eglantine. - Full well she sang the services divine, - Entuned through her nose melodiously, - And French she spoke fairly and fluently, - After the school of Stratford atte Bow, - For French of Paris--_that_ she did not know. - At meal-times she was very apt withal; - No morsel from her lips did she let fall, - Nor in her sauce did wet her fingers deep; - Well could she lift a titbit, and well keep, - That not a drop should fall upon her breast; - To cultivate refinement was her taste. - Her upper lip she ever wiped so clean - That in her drinking-cup no scrap was seen - Of grease, when she had drank as she thought good. - And gracefully she reach'd forth for her food. - And she was very playful, certainly, - And pleasant, and most amiable to see. - And mighty pains she took to counterfeit - Court manners, and be stately and discreet, - And to be held as worthy reverence. - But then to tell you of her conscience! - She was so charitable and piteous - That she would weep did she but see a mouse - Caught in a trap, if it were dead or bled; - And little dogs she had, which oft she fed - With roasted meat, and milk, and finest bread; - But sore she wept if one of them were dead, - Or, haply, with a rod were smitten smart. - And all was conscience and tender heart! - Most daintily her wimple plaited was: - Her nose was straight; her eyes were grey as glass; - Her mouth was little, and so soft and red! - Besides, she had a very fine forehead, - That measured nigh a span across, I trow! - For certainly her stature was not low. - And very dainty was the cloak she wore; - Around her arm a rosary she bore, - Of coral small, with little gauds of green, - And thereon hung a golden locket sheen, - On which was graven first a crowned A, - And after, _Amor vincit omnia_. - -The Prioress was attended by another nun, who acted as her chaplain, and -three priests. - - -The Monk. - -[Illustration] - - A MONK ther was, a fair for the maistrie,[55] mastery - An out-rydere, that lovede venerye; hunting - A manly man, to ben an abbot able. be - Ful many a deynte hors hadde he in stable: dainty horse - And whan he rood, men might his bridel heere[56] when, hear - Gyngle in a whistlyng wynd as cleere, jingling, clear - And eek as lowde as doth the chapel belle, - Ther as this lord was keper of the selle. where, religious - house - - - A monk there was--one sure to rise no doubt, - A hunter, and devoted rider out; - Manly--to be an abbot fit and able, - For many a dainty horse had he in stable; - And when he rode, his bridle you could hear - Jingle along a whistling wind as clear - And quite as loud, as doth the chapel bell, - Where this good monk is keeper of the cell. - -This jolly monk cared for little else but hunting, though this has never -been considered a proper pursuit for the clergy. He was indifferent to -what was said of him, and spared no cost to keep the most splendid -greyhounds and horses for hard riding and hare-hunting. I saw his sleeves -edged with the rare fur _gris_ at the wrist, and that the finest in the -land; his hood was fastened under his chin with a curious gold pin, which -had a love-knot in the largest end. His pate was bald and shiny, his eyes -rolled in his head; his favourite roast dish was a fat swan.[57] - - -The Friar. - -[Illustration] - - A FRERE ther was, a wantoun and a merye, friar - A lymytour,[58] a ful solempne man. solemn - In alle the ordres foure[59] is noon that can Is able to do - So moche of daliaunce and fair langage. dalliance - - * * * * * - - Ful wel biloved and famulier was he familiar - With frankeleyns[60] overal in his cuntre, country - And eek with worthi wommen of the toun: also, rich - - * * * * * - - Ful sweetly herde he confessioun, - And plesaunt was his absolucioun;[61] - He was an esy man to yeve penance easy - Ther as he wiste to han a good pitance; when, knew - For unto a poure ordre for to geve poor - Is signe that a man is wel i-schreve. shriven - For if he yaf, he dorste make avaunt, boast - He wiste that a man was repentaunt. knew - For many a man so hard is of his herte, heart - He may not wepe though him sore smerte; he may smart - Therfore in-stede of wepyng and prayeres, - Men moot yive silver to the poure freres. may - - - A friar there was, so frisky and so merry-- - A limitour, a most important man, - In the four orders there is none that can - Outdo him in sweet talk and playfulness. - - * * * * * - - He was most intimate and popular - With all the franklins dwelling near and far, - And with the wealthy women of the town. - - * * * * * - - So sweetly did he hear confession ay; - In absolution pleasant was his way. - In giving penance, very kind was he - When people made it worth his while to be; - For giving largely to some order poor - Shows that a man is free from sin, be sure, - And if a man begrudged him not his dole, - He knew he was repentant in his soul. - For many a man so hard of heart we see, - He cannot weep, however sad he be; - Therefore, instead of weeping and long prayers, - Men can give money unto the poor friars. - -He carried a number of pretty pins and knives about him that he made -presents of to people; and he could sing well, and play on the rotta.[62] -He never mingled with poor, ragged, sick people--it is not respectable to -have anything to do with such, but only with rich people who could give -good dinners. - - Somwhat he lipsede for his wantownesse, - To make his Englissch swete upon his tunge; tongue - - - Somewhat he lisped for his wantonness, - To make his English sweet upon his tongue; - -and when he played and sang, his eyes twinkled like the stars on a frosty -night. - - -The Merchant. - -[Illustration] - - A MARCHAUNT was ther with a forked berd, beard - In motteleye, and highe on hors he sat, motley, horse - Uppon his heed a Flaundrisch bevere hat. Flemish beaver - - - A merchant was there with a forked beard, - In motley dress'd--high on his horse he sat, - And on his head a Flemish beaver hat. - - -The Clerk. - -[Illustration] - - A CLERK[63] ther was of Oxenford also, Oxford - That unto logik hadde longe ygo. logic, gone - As lene was his hors as is a rake, lean, horse - And he was not right fat, I undertake; - But lokede holwe, and therto soburly. looked hollow - Ful thredbare was his overest courtepy. uppermost short - cloak - For he hadde geten him yit no benefice, got - Ne was so worldly for to have office, - For him was lever have at his beddes heede he would - Twenty bookes, clothed in blak or reede, - Of Aristotil, and his philosophie, - Than robus riche, or fithul, or sawtrie. robes - - - A clerk of Oxford was amid the throng, - Who had applied his heart to learning long. - His horse, it was as skinny as a rake, - And _he_ was not too fat, I'll undertake! - But had a sober, rather hollow look; - And very threadbare was his outer cloak. - For he as yet no benefice had got: - Worldly enough for office he was not! - For liefer would he have at his bed's head - A score of books, all bound in black or red, - Of Aristotle, and his philosophy, - Than rich attire, fiddle, or psaltery. - -Yet although the poor scholar was so wise and diligent, he had hardly any -money, but all he could get from his friends he spent on books and on -learning; and often he prayed for those who gave him the means to study. -He spoke little--never more than he was obliged--but what he did speak was -always sensible and wise. - - Sownynge in moral vertu was his speche, tending to - And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche. would, learn - - - Full of true worth and goodness was his speech, - And gladly would he learn, and gladly teach. - -Then there was a - - -Serjeant-of-Law. - -[Illustration] - - Nowher so besy a man as he ther nas, was not - And yit he seemede besier than he was. - - * * * * * - - He roode but hoomly in a medle coote mixed fabric - Gird with a seynt of silk, with barres smale. belt - - - Never has been a busier man than he, - Yet busier than he was, he seemed to be. - - * * * * * - - He rode but homely-clad, in medley coat, - Girt with a belt of silk, with little bars. - - -The Franklin. - -[Illustration: The Franklin.] - -[Illustration: Table Dormant.] - - A FRANKELEIN was in his compainye; - Whit was his berde, as is the dayesye. daisy - Of his complexioun he was sangwyn, - Wel loved he in the morwe a sop of wyn. morning - - * * * * * - - Withoute bake mete was nevere his hous, baked meats - (pies) - Of flessch and fissch, and that so plentevous - Hit snewed[64] in his hous of mete and drynke, snowed - Of alle deyntees that men cowde thynke. could think of - After the sondry sesouns of the yeer sundry - So chaungede he his mete and his soper. supper - - * * * * * - - His table dormant[65] in his halle alway - Stood redy covered al the longe day. - - - There was a Franklin in his company, - And white his beard was, as the daisies be. - With ruddy tints did his complexion shine; - Well loved he in the morn a sop of wine. - - * * * * * - - Without good meat, well cooked, was ne'er his house, - Both fish and flesh, and that so plenteous, - It seemed as though it snowed with meat and drink, - And every dainty that a man could think. - According to the seasons of the year - He changed his meats and varied his good cheer. - - * * * * * - - His table-dormant in his hall alway - Stood ready furnished forth throughout the day. - -He was the most hospitable of men, and very well-to-do. He kept open -house, for everybody to come and eat when they liked. He had often been -sheriff and knight of the shire; for he was very highly thought of. - - An anlas and gipser al of silk all - Heng at his gerdul, whit as morne mylk. - - - A dagger and a hawking-pouch of silk - Hung at his girdle, white as morning milk. - -A Haberdasher, a Carpenter, a Webber (weaver), a Dyer, and a Tapiser -(tapestry-maker) came next, with the Cook they brought with them, a -Shipman, a Doctor of Physic, and a 'worthy[66] woman,' called the Wife of -Bath, because she lived near that city. - -[Illustration: The Doctor of Physic.] - -[Illustration: The Wife of Bath.] - - -The Wife of Bath. - -She was so expert in weaving cloth, that there was no one who could come -up to her; and she thought so much of herself, that if another woman even -went up to the church altar before her, she considered it a slight upon -her. The Wife of Bath was middle-aged, and somewhat deaf: she had had five -husbands, but they had all died--she was such a shrew: and she had taken -pilgrimages to Cologne and Rome, and many other places; for she had plenty -of money, as one might see by her showy dress. - - Hire hosen weren of fyn scarlet reed, hose - Ful streyte yteyd, and schoos ful moyst and newe. - Bold was hire face, and fair and rede of hew. - - - Her stockings were of finest scarlet red, - All straitly tied, and shoes all moist and new. - Bold was her face, and fair and red of hue. - -She was well wimpled with fine kerchiefs, and her hat was as broad as a -buckler or a target. - - -The Parson. - -[Illustration] - -Then came the poor Parson--poor in condition, but 'rich in holy thought -and work'--who was so good, and staunch, and true, so tender to sinners -and severe to sin, regarding no ranks or state, but always at his post, an -example to men. - - Wyd was his parisch, and houses fer asondur, wide - But he ne lafte not for reyne ne thondur, ceased - In siknesse nor in meschief to visite - The ferrest in his parissche, moche and lite, furthest - Uppon his feet, and in his hond a staf. - - * * * * * - - But Cristes lore and his apostles twelve - He taught, and ferst he folwed it himselve.[67] followed - - - Wide was his parish, the houses far asunder, - But never did he fail, for rain or thunder, - In sickness and in woe to visit all - Who needed--far or near, and great and small-- - On foot, and having in his hand a staff. - - * * * * * - - Christ's and the twelve apostles' law he taught, - But first himself obey'd it, as he ought. - - -The Ploughman. - -Then the parson's brother, who was only a Ploughman, and worked hard in -the fields, kind to his neighbours, ever honest, loving God above all -things. He wore a tabard, and rode on a mare.[68] - -There was also a Miller, a Manciple, a Reve, a Summoner, a Pardoner, and -myself [Chaucer]. - -[Illustration: The Ploughman.] - -[Illustration: The Summoner.] - -[Illustration: The Pardoner.] - - -The Summoner. - -The Summoner[69] was a terrible-looking person, and rode with the -Pardoner, who was his friend: the Pardoner singing a lively song, and the -Summoner growling out a bass to it, with a loud, harsh voice. As for his -looks, he had - - A fyr-reed cherubynes face,[70] - For sawceflem he was with eyghen narwe. pimply - - A 'fiery-cherubin' red face, - For pimply he was, with narrow eyes. - -Children were sore afraid of him when they saw him, he was so repulsive, -and so cruel in extorting his gains. He was a very bad man: for though it -was his duty to call up before the Archdeacon's court anybody whom he -found doing wrong, yet he would let the wickedest people off, if they -bribed him with money; and many poor people who did nothing wrong he -forced to give him their hard earnings, threatening else to report them -falsely to the Archdeacon. He carried a large cake with him for a buckler, -and wore a garland big enough for the sign-post of an inn.[71] - - -The Pardoner. - -The Pardoner[72] was a great cheat too, and so the friends were well -matched; he had long thin hair, as yellow as wax, that hung in shreds on -his shoulders. He wore no hood, but kept it in his wallet: he thought -himself quite in the tip-top of fashion. - - Dischevele, sauf his cappe, he rood al bare. except - Suche glaryng eyghen hadde he, as an hare. such, eyes - A vernicle[73] hadde he sowed on his cappe; - His walet lay byforn him in his lappe. before - - * * * * * - - But trewely to tellen atte laste, truly - He was in churche a noble ecclesiaste. - Wel cowde he rede a lessoun or a storye,[74] - But altherbest he sang an offertorie: best of all - For wel he wyste, whan that song was songe knew, when - He moste preche, and wel affyle his tonge, preach, whet - To wynne silver, as he right wel cowde: win - Therfore he sang ful meriely and lowde. - - - Dishevell'd, save his cap, he rode barehead: - Such glaring eyes, like to a hare, he had! - A vernicle was sewed upon his cap; - His wallet lay before him, in his lap. - - * * * * * - - But honestly to tell the truth at last, - He was in church a noble ecclesiast. - Well could he read a lesson or a story, - But ever best he sang the offertory: - For well he knew that after he had sung, - For preaching he must polish up his tongue, - And thus make money, as he right well could: - Therefore he sang full merrily and loud. - -Now I have told you as much as I can what people came into the Tabard Inn -that night, and why they were all travelling together, and where they were -going. - -[Illustration: Mine Host.] - -Our host made us very welcome, and gave us a capital supper. He was a -thoroughly good fellow, our host--a large, stout man, with bright, -prominent eyes, sensible and well behaved, and very merry. - -After supper, he made us all laugh a good deal with his witty jests; and -when we had all paid our reckonings, he addressed us all:-- - - And sayde thus: Lo, lordynges, trewely truly - Ye ben to me right welcome hertily: - For by my trouthe, if that I schal not lye, shall, lie - I ne saugh this yeer so mery a companye saw - At oones in this herbergh, as is now. inn (auberge) - Fayn wolde I do yow merthe, wiste I how. - And of a merthe I am right now bythought, - To doon you eese, and it schal coste nought. do, ease - - - And said to us: "My masters, certainly - Ye be to me right welcome, heartily: - For by my truth, and flattering none, say I, - I have not seen so large a company - At once inside my inn this year, as now! - I'd gladly make you mirth if I knew how. - And of a pleasant game I'm just bethought - To cheer the journey--it shall cost you nought! - -"Whoever wants to know how, hold up your hands." We all held up our hands, -and begged him to say on. - -"Well, my masters," said he, "I say that each of you shall tell the rest -four stories--two on the way to Canterbury, and two on the way home. For -you know it is small fun riding along as dumb as a stone. And whichever in -the party tells the best story, shall have a supper at this inn at the -cost of the rest when you come back. To amuse you better, I will myself -gladly join your party, and ride to Canterbury at my own expense, and be -at once guide and judge; and whoever gainsays my judgment shall pay for -all we spend by the way. Now, tell me if you all agree, and I will get me -ready in time to start." - -We were all well pleased; and the next morning, at daybreak, our clever -host called us all together, and we rode off to a place called the -Watering of St. Thomas.[75] There we halted, and drew lots who should tell -the story first, knight, clerk, lady prioress, and everybody. - -The lot fell to the knight, which every one was glad of; and as soon as we -set forward, he began at once. - - -Notes by the Way. - -One of the things most deserving of notice in reading Chaucer is his -singularly strong grasp of character. In the 'Canterbury Tales' this is -self-evident, and the succinct catalogue of the thirty-one pilgrims, which -in feebler hands would have been dry enough, is a masterpiece of -good-humoured satire, moral teaching, and, above all, photographic -portraits from life. You will notice that Chaucer meant to make his -'Canterbury Tales' much longer than he lived to do. His innkeeper proposes -that each of the pilgrims shall tell four stories. Only twenty-four of -these exist. - -You will never find any character drawn by Chaucer acting, speaking, or -looking inconsistently. He has always well hold of his man, and he turns -him inside out relentlessly. He very seldom analyzes thought or motives, -but he shows you what _is_ so clearly, that you know what _must_ be -without his telling you. - -The good-humoured _naivete_ of mine host, like all his class, never -forgetful of business in the midst of play, is wonderfully well hit off; -for the innkeeper clearly would be the gainer by this pleasant stratagem: -and he prevents any one's giving him the slip by going with them to -Canterbury and back. The guests are glad enough of his company, for he -could be especially useful to them on the way. - -The stories, also, will be found perfectly characteristic of the -tellers--there is no story given to a narrator whose rank, education, or -disposition make it inconsistent. Each tells a tale whose incidents savour -of his natural occupation and sympathies, and the view each takes of right -or wrong modes of conduct is well seen in the manner as well as the -matter. - -Chaucer's personal distrust of and contempt for the contemporary Church -and its creatures was the natural and healthy aversion of a pure mind and -a sincerely religious heart to a form of godliness denying the power -thereof--a Church which had become really corrupt. It is significant of -his perfect artistic thoroughness that, with this aversion, he never puts -an immoral or unfitting tale into the mouth of nun or friar; for it would -be most unlikely that these persons, whatever their private character -might be, would criminate themselves in public. - - - - -The Knight's Tale. - - -Once upon a time, as old stories tell us, there was a duke named Theseus, -lord and governor of Athens, in Greece, and in his time such a conqueror -that there was none greater under the sun. Full many a rich country owned -his sway. - - That with his wisdam and his chivalrie, - He conquered al the regne of Femynye, kingdom, Amazons - That whilom was i-cleped Cithea; once, called - And wedded the fresshe quene Ipolita,[76] fresh - And brought her hoom with him to his contre, country - With mochel glorie and gret solempnite; much, solemnity - And eek hire yonge suster Emelye. also, sister - And thus with victorie and with melodye music - Lete I this noble duk to Athenes ryde, duke - And al his ost, in armes him biside. arms - - - What with his wisdom and his chivalry - The kingdom of the Amazons won he, - That was of old time named Scythia, - And wedded the fresh Queen Ipolita, - And brought her to his own land sumptuously, - With pomp and glory, and great festivity; - And also her young sister Emelye. - And thus with victory and with melodie - Let I this noble duke to Athens ride, - And all his glittering hosts on either side. - -And, certainly, if it were not too long to listen to, I would have told -you fully how the kingdom of the Amazons was won by Theseus and his host. -And of the great battle there was for the time between Athens and the -Amazons; and how Ipolita--the fair, hardy queen of Scythia--was besieged; -and about the feast that was held at the wedding of Theseus and Ipolita, -and about the tempest at their home-coming. But all this I must cut short. - - I have, God wot, a large feeld to ere; plough - And wayke ben the oxen in my plough. weak - - - I have, God knows, a full wide field to sow, - And feeble be the oxen in my plough. - -I will not hinder anybody in the company. Let every one tell his story in -turn, and let us see now who shall win the supper! - -I will describe to you what happened as Theseus was bringing home his -bride to Athens. - - This duk, of whom I make mencioun, - Whan he was comen almost unto the toun, come - In al his wele and in his moste pryde, prosperity - He was war, as he cast his eyghe aside, aware - Wher that ther knelede in the hye weye kneeled - A compagnye of ladies, tweye and tweye, two - Ech after other, clad in clothes blake; each, black - But such a cry and such a woo they make, woe - That in this world nys creature lyvynge, - That herde such another weymentynge, - And of that cry ne wolde they never stenten, cease - Til they the reynes of his bridel henten. caught - What folk be ye that at myn hom comynge - Pertourben so my feste[77] with cryinge? perturb - Quod Theseus; Have ye so gret envye - Of myn honour, that thus compleyne and crie? - Or who hath yow misboden or offendid? injured - And telleth me, if it may ben amendid; - And why that ye ben clad thus al in blak? black - The oldest lady of hem alle spak.... them - - - This duke aforesaid, of deserved renown, - When he had almost come into the town - In all his splendour and in all his pride, - Perceived, as he cast his eyes aside, - A company of ladies, in a row, - Were kneeling in the highway--two by two, - Each behind each, clad all in black array; - But such an outcry of lament made they, - That in this world there is no living thing - That e'er heard such another outcrying; - Nor would they cease to wail and to complain - Till they had caught him by his bridle-rein. - "What folk are ye who at my home-coming - Perturb my festival with murmuring," - Quoth Theseus. "Or do you envy me - Mine honour that ye wail so woefully? - Or who hath injured you, or who offended? - Tell me, if haply it may be amended, - And why are all of you in black arrayed?" - The oldest lady of them all then said-- - -"Lord, to whom fortune has given victory, and to live ever as a conqueror, -we do not grudge your glory[78] and honour, but we have come to implore -your pity and help. Have mercy on us in our grief. There is not one of us -that has not been a queen or duchess; now we are beggars, and you can help -us if you will. - -"I was wife to King Capaneus, who died at Thebes[79]: and all of us who -kneel and weep have lost our husbands there during a siege; and now Creon, -who is king of Thebes, has piled together these dead bodies, and will not -suffer them to be either burned or buried." - -And with these words all the ladies wept more piteously than ever, and -prayed Theseus to have compassion on their great sorrow. - -The kind duke descended from his horse, full of commiseration for the poor -ladies. He thought his heart would break with pity when he saw them so -sorrowful and dejected, who had been lately of so noble a rank. - -He raised them all, and comforted them, and swore an oath that as he was a -true knight, he would avenge them on the tyrant king of Thebes in such a -fashion that all the people of Greece should be able to tell how Theseus -served Creon! - -The duke sent his royal bride and her young sister Emelye on to the town -of Athens, whilst he displayed his banner, marshalled his men, and rode -forth towards Thebes. For himself, till he had accomplished this duty, he -would not enter Athens, nor take his ease for one half-day therein. - -The duke's white banner bore the red statue of Mars upon it; and by his -banner waved his pennon, which had the monster Minotaur (slain by Theseus -in Greece) beaten into it in gold. Thus rode this duke--thus rode this -conqueror and all his host--the flower of chivalry--till he came to -Thebes. - -To make matters short, Theseus fought with the King of Thebes, and slew -him manly as a knight in fair battle, and routed his whole army. Then he -destroyed the city, and gave up to the sorrowful ladies the bones of their -husbands, to burn honourably after their fashion. - -When the worthy duke had slain Creon and taken the city, he remained all -night in the field. During the pillage which followed, it happened that -two young knights were found still alive, lying in their rich armour, -though grievously wounded. By their coat-armour[80] the heralds knew they -were of the blood-royal of Thebes; two cousins, the sons of two sisters. -Their names were Palamon and Arcite. - -These two knights were carried as captives to Theseus' tent, and he sent -them off to Athens, where they were to be imprisoned for life; no ransom -would he take. - -Then the duke went back to Athens crowned with laurel, where he lived in -joy and in honour all his days, while Palamon and Arcite were shut up in a -strong tower full of anguish and misery, beyond all reach of help. - -Thus several years passed. - - This passeth yeer by yeer, and day by day, - Till it fel oones in a morwe of May morning - That Emelye, that fairer was to seene see - Than is the lilie on hire stalkes grene, - And fresscher than the May with floures newe-- flowers - For with the rose colour strof hire hewe, strove, hue - I n'ot which was the fayrere of hem two-- - Er it were day as sche was wont to do, - Sche was arisen, and al redy dight; dressed - For May wole han no sloggardye a nyght. sloth - The sesoun priketh every gentil herte, - And maketh him out of his sleepe sterte, - And seith, Arys, and do thin observaunce.[81] arise, thine - This maked Emelye han remembraunce - To don honour to May, and for to ryse. do - I-clothed was sche fressh for to devyse.[82] clothed - Hire yolwe heer was browdid in a tresse, yellow - Byhynde hire bak, a yerde long I gesse. - And in the gardyn at the sonne upriste - Sche walketh up and doun wher as hire liste. pleased - Sche gadereth floures, party whyte and reede, - To make a sotil gerland[83] for hire heede, - And as an aungel hevenly sche song. - - - Thus passeth year by year, and day by day, - Till it fell once upon a morn of May - That Emelye--more beauteous to be seen - Than is the lily on his stalk of green, - And fresher than the May with flowers new - (For with the rose's colour strove her hue - I know not which was fairer of the two) - Early she rose as she was wont to do, - All ready robed before the day was bright; - For May time will not suffer sloth at night; - The season pricketh every gentle heart, - And maketh him out of his sleep to start, - And saith, Rise up, salute the birth of spring! - And therefore Emelye, remembering - To pay respect to May, rose speedily: - Attired she was all fresh and carefully, - Her yellow hair was braided in a tress - Behind her back, a full yard long, I guess, - And in the garden as the sun uprose - She wandered up and down where as she chose. - She gathereth flowers, partly white and red, - To make a cunning garland for her head, - And as an angel heavenly she sang. - -[Illustration: FAIR EMELYE GATHERING FLOWERS. - - 'The fairnesse of the lady that I see - Yonde in the gardyn romynge to and fro.'] - -The great tower, so thick and strong, in which these two knights were -imprisoned, was close-joined to the wall of the garden. - -Bright was the sun, and clear, that morning, as Palamon, by leave of his -jailor, had risen, and was roaming about in an upper chamber, from which -he could see the whole noble city of Athens, and also the garden, full of -green boughs, just where fresh Emelye was walking. - -This sorrowful prisoner, this Palamon, kept pacing to and fro in this -chamber, wishing he had never been born; and it happened by chance that -through the window, square and barred with iron, he cast his eyes on -Emelye. - -He started and cried out aloud, "Ah!" as though he were stricken to the -heart. - -And with that cry Arcite sprang up, saying, "Dear cousin, what ails you? -You are quite pale and deathly. Why did you cry out? For God's love be -patient with this prison life since it cannot be altered. What is Heaven's -will we must endure." - -Palamon answered, "Cousin, it is not that--not this dungeon made me cry -out--but I was smitten right now through the eye into my heart. The -fairness of a lady that I see yonder in the garden, roaming to and fro, -made me cry out. I know not whether she be woman or goddess: but I think -it is Venus herself!" - -And he fell down on his knees and cried, "Venus, if it be thy will thus to -transfigure thyself in the garden, help us to escape out of the tower." - -Then Arcite looked forth and saw this lady roaming to and fro, and her -beauty touched him so deeply that he said, sighing, "The fresh beauty of -her will slay me. And if I cannot gain her mercy, I am but dead, and there -is an end." - -But Palamon turned furiously on him, and said, "Do you say that in earnest -or in play?" - -"Nay," cried Arcite, "in earnest by my faith--God help me, I am in no mood -for play." - -"It were no great honour to thee," cried Palamon, "to be false and a -traitor to me, who am thy cousin and thy brother, sworn as we are both, to -help and not hinder one another, in all things till death part us. And now -you would falsely try to take my lady from me, whom I love and serve, and -ever shall till my heart break. Now, certainly, false Arcite, you shall -not do it. I loved her first, and told thee, and thou art bound as a -knight to help me, or thou art false!" - -But Arcite answered proudly, "Thou shalt be rather false than I--and thou -_art_ false, I tell thee, utterly! For I loved her with real love before -you did. You did not know whether she were woman or goddess. Yours is a -religious feeling, and mine is love as to a mortal; which I told you as my -cousin, and my sworn brother. And even if you _had_ loved her first, what -matters it? A man loves because he can't help it, not because he wishes. -Besides, you will never gain her grace more than I, for both of us are -life-long captives. It is like the dogs who fought all day over a bone; -and while they were fighting over it, a kite came and carried it off." - -Long the two knights quarrelled and disputed about the lady who was out of -their reach. But you shall see what came to pass. - -There was a duke called Perithous, who had been fellow and brother in -arms[84] of Duke Theseus since both were children, and he came to Athens -to visit Theseus. These two dukes were very great friends: so much so that -they loved no one so much as each other. - -Now, Duke Perithous had known Arcite at Thebes, years before, and liked -him, and he begged Theseus to let Arcite out of prison. - -Theseus consented, but only on the condition that Arcite should quit -Athens; and that he should lose his head, were he ever found there again. - -So Arcite became a free man, but he was banished the kingdom. - -How unhappy then Arcite was! He felt that he was worse off than ever. "Oh, -how I wish I had never known Perithous!" cried he. "Far rather would I be -back in Theseus' prison, for _then_ I could see the beautiful lady I -love." - - O dere cosyn Palamon, quod he, - Thyn is the victorie of this aventure, thine, chance - Ful blisfully in prisoun maistow dure; may'st thou - endure - In prisoun? certes nay, but in paradys! - Wel hath fortune y-torned the the dys. thee - - - "O my dear cousin, Palamon," cried he, - "In this ill hap the gain is on thy side. - Thou blissful in thy prison may'st abide! - In prison? truly nay--but in paradise! - Kindly toward thee hath fortune turn'd the dice." - -So Arcite mourned ever, because he was far away from Athens where the -beautiful lady dwelt, and was always thinking that perhaps Palamon would -get pardoned, and marry the lady, while he would never see her any more. - -But Palamon, on the other hand, was so unhappy when his companion was -taken away, that he wept till the great tower resounded, and his very -fetters were wet with his tears. - -"Alas, my dear cousin," he sighed, "the fruit of all our strife is -thine!--You walk free in Thebes, and think little enough of my woe, I -daresay. You will perhaps gather a great army and make war on this -country, and get the beautiful lady to wife whom I love so much! while I -die by inches in my cage." - -And with that his jealousy started up like a fire within him, so that he -was nigh mad, and pale as ashes. "O cruel gods!" he cried, "that govern -the world with your eternal laws, how is man better than a sheep lying in -the fold? For, like any other beast, man dies, or lives in prison, or is -sick, or unfortunate, and often is quite guiltless all the while. And when -a beast is dead, it has no pain further; but man may suffer after death, -as well as in this world." - -Now I will leave Palamon, and tell you more of Arcite. - -Arcite, in Thebes, fell into such excessive sorrow for the loss of the -beautiful lady that there never was a creature so sad before or since. He -ceased to eat and drink, and sleep, and grew as thin and dry as an arrow. -His eyes were hollow and dreadful to behold, and he lived always alone, -mourning and lamenting night and day. He was so changed that no one could -recognize his voice nor his look. Altogether he was the saddest picture of -a man that ever was seen--except Palamon. - -One night he had a dream. He dreamed that the winged god Mercury stood -before him, bidding him be merry; and commanded him to go to Athens, where -all his misery should end. - -Arcite sprang up, and said, "I will go straight to Athens. Nor will I -spare to see my lady through fear of death--in her presence I am ready -even to die!" - -He caught up a looking-glass, and saw how altered his face was, so that no -one would know him. And lie suddenly bethought him that now he was so -disfigured with his grief, he might go and dwell in Athens without being -recognized, and see his lady nearly every day. - -He dressed himself as a poor labourer, and accompanied only by a humble -squire, who knew all he had suffered, he hastened to Athens. - -He went to the court of Theseus, and offered his services at the gate to -drudge and draw, or do any menial work that could be given him. Well could -he hew wood and carry water, for he was young and very strong. Now, it -happened that the chamberlain of fair Emelye's house took Arcite into his -service. - -Thus Arcite became page of the chamber of Emelye the bright, and he called -himself Philostrate. - -Never was man so well thought of!--he was so gentle of condition that he -became known throughout the court. People said it would be but right if -Theseus promoted this Philostrate, and placed him in a rank which would -better display his talents and virtues. - -At last Theseus raised him to be squire of his chamber, and gave him -plenty of gold to keep up his degree. Moreover, his own private rent was -secretly brought to him from Thebes year by year. But he spent it so -cunningly that no one suspected him. In this crafty way Arcite lived a -long time very happily, and bore himself so nobly both in peace and war -that there was no man in the land dearer to Theseus. - -Now we will go back to Palamon. - -Poor Palamon had been for seven years in his terrible prison, and was -quite wasted away with misery. There was not the slightest chance of -getting out; and his great love made him frantic. At last, however, one -May night some pitying friend helped him to give his jailor a drink which -sent him into a deep sleep: so that Palamon made his escape from the -tower. He fled from the city as fast as ever he could go, and hid himself -in a grove; meaning afterwards to go by night secretly to Thebes, and beg -all his friends to aid him to make war on Theseus. And then he would soon -either die or get Emelye to wife. - - Now wol I torn unto Arcite agayn, turn - That litel wiste how nyh that was his care, know, near - Til that fortune hadde brought him in the snare. - The busy larke, messager of day, - Salueth in hire song the morwe gray; saluteth - And fyry Phebus ryseth up so brighte, - That al the orient laugheth of the lighte, - And with his stremes dryeth in the greves rays, groves - The silver dropes, hongyng on the leeves. leaves - And Arcite, that is in the court ryal royal[85] - With Theseus, his squyer principal, squire - Is risen, and loketh on the merye day. - And for to doon his observaunce to May, do, ceremony - Remembryng on the poynt of his desir, - He on his courser, stertyng as the fir, starting, fire - Is riden into the feeldes him to pleye fields, play - Out of the court, were it a myle or tweye. - And to the grove of which that I yow tolde, you - By aventure his wey he gan to holde, chance, began - To maken him a garland of the greves, make - Were it of woodebynde or hawethorn leves, leaves - And lowde he song ayens the sonne scheene: sang, against - O May,[86] with al thy floures and thy greene, - Welcome be thou, wel faire freissche May! - I hope that I som grene gete may. some, may get - And fro his courser, with a lusty herte, heart - Into the grove ful hastily he sterte, started - And in a pathe he romed up and doun, roamed - Ther as by aventure this Palamoun where, chance - Was in a busche, that no man might him see, - For sore afered of his deth was he. afraid, death - Nothing ne knew he that it was Arcite: - God wot he wolde han trowed it ful lite. knows, guessed, - little - For soth is seyd, goon sithen many yeres, truly, gone, - since - That feld hath eyen, and the woode hath eeres. eyes, ears - - - Now will I tell you of Arcite again, - Who little guess'd how nigh him was his care - Until his fortune brought him in the snare. - The busy lark, the messenger of day, - Saluteth in her song the morning grey; - And fiery Phoebus riseth up so bright, - That all the orient laugheth for the light; - And in the woods he drieth with his rays - The silvery drops that hang along the sprays. - Arcite--unknown, yet ever waxing higher - In Theseus' royal court, now chiefest squire-- - Is risen, and looketh on the merry day: - And, fain to offer homage unto May, - He, mindful of the point of his desire, - Upon his courser leapeth, swift as fire, - And rideth to keep joyous holiday - Out in the fields, a mile or two away. - And, as it chanced, he made towards the grove, - All thick with leaves, whereof I spake above, - Eager to weave a garland with a spray - Of woodbine, or the blossoms of the may. - And loud against the sunshine sweet he sings, - "O May, with all thy flowers and thy green things, - Right welcome be thou, fairest, freshest May! - Yield me of all thy tender green to-day!" - Then from his courser merrily he sprang, - And plunged into the thicket as he sang; - Till in a path he chanced to make his way - Nigh to where Palamon in secret lay. - Sore frighted for his life was Palamon: - But Arcite pass'd, unknowing and unknown; - And neither guess'd his brother was hard by; - But Arcite knew not any man was nigh. - So was it said of old, how faithfully, - 'The woods have ears, the empty field can see.' - -A man should be prudent, even when he fancies himself safest: for -oftentimes come unlooked-for meetings. And little enough thought Arcite -that his sworn brother from the tower was at hand, sitting as still as a -mouse while he sang. - - Whan that Arcite hadde romed al his fill, - And songen al the roundel lustily, - Into a studie he fel sodeynly, reverie - As don thes loveres in here queynte geeres, curious fashions - Now in the croppe,[87] now doun in the breres, briars - Now up, now doun, as boket in a welle. - - - Now when Arcite long time had roam'd his fill, - And sung all through the rondel lustily, - He fell into dejection suddenly, - As lovers in their strange way often do, - Now in the clouds and now in abject wo, - Now up, now down, as bucket in a well. - -He sat down and began to make a kind of song of lamentation. "Alas," he -cried, "the day that I was born! How long, O Juno, wilt thou oppress -Thebes? All her royal blood is brought to confusion. I myself am of royal -lineage, and yet now I am so wretched and brought so low, that I have -become slave and squire to my mortal foe. Even my own proud name of Arcite -I dare not bear, but pass by the worthless one of Philostrate! Ah, Mars -and Juno, save me, and wretched Palamon, martyred by Theseus in prison! -For all my pains are for my love's sake, and Emelye, whom I will serve all -my days." - - Ye slen me with youre eyen, Emelye; - Ye ben the cause wherfore that I dye: be - Of al the remenant of myn other care remnant - Ne sette I nought the mountaunce of a tare, amount - So that I couthe don aught to youre pleasaunce! were able to - - - "You slay me with your eyes, O Emelye! - You are the cause wherefore I daily die. - For, ah, the worth of all my other woes - Is not as e'en the poorest weed that grows, - So that I might do aught to pleasure you!" - -Palamon, hearing this, felt as though a cold sword glided through his -heart. He was so angry that he flung himself forth like a madman upon -Arcite:-- - - And seyde: False[88] Arcyte--false traitour wikke, wicked - Now art thou hent, that lovest my lady so, - For whom that I have al this peyne and wo, - And art my blood, and to my counseil sworn, counsel - As I ful ofte have told the heere byforn, before now - And hast byjaped here duke Theseus, tricked - And falsly chaunged hast thy name thus; - I wol be deed, or elles thou schalt dye. dead, else - Thou schalt not love my lady Emelye, - But I wil love hire oonly and no mo; more - For I am Palamon, thy mortal fo. foe - And though that I no wepne have in this place, weapon - But out of prisoun am astert by grace, escaped - I drede not, that outher thou schalt dye, fear - Or thou ne schalt not loven Emelye. - Ches which thou wilt, for thou schalt not asterte. escape - This Arcite, with ful dispitous herte, there - Whan he him knew, and hadde his tale herde, - As fers as a lyoun, pulleth out a swerde, fierce - And seide thus: By God that sitteth above, - Nere it that thou art sike and wood for love, were it not - And eek that thou no wepne hast in this place, also - Thou schuldest nevere out of this grove pace, step - That thou ne schuldest deyen of myn hond. die - For I defye the seurte and the bond defy - Which that thou seyst that I have maad to the; sayest - What, verray fool, thenk wel that love is fre! - And I wol love hire mawgre al thy might. In spite of - But, for thou art a gentil perfight knight, because - And wilnest to dereyne hire by batayle, art willing - Have heere my trouthe, to morwe I nyl not fayle, pledge - Withouten wityng of eny other wight, without knowledge - That heer I wol be founden as a knight, will, found - And bryngen harneys[89] right inough for the; - And ches the best, and lef the worst for me. - And mete and drynke this night wil I brynge - Inough for the, and clothes for thy beddynge. - And if so be that thou my lady wynne, win - And sle me in this wode, ther I am inne, wood - Thou maist wel have thy lady as for me. - This Palamon answerde, I graunt it the. - - - Crying, "False, wicked traitor! false Arcite! - Now art thou caught, that lov'st my lady so, - For whom I suffer all this pain and wo! - Yet art my blood--bound to me by thy vow, - As I have told thee oftentimes ere now-- - And hast so long befool'd Duke Theseus - And falsely hid thy name and nurture thus! - For all this falseness thou or I must die. - Thou shalt not love my lady Emelye-- - But I will love her and no man but I, - For I am Palamon, thine enemy! - And tho' I am unarmed, being but now - Escap'd from out my dungeon, care not thou, - For nought I dread--for either thou shalt die - Now--or thou shalt not love my Emelye. - Choose as thou wilt--thou shalt not else depart." - But Arcite, with all fury in his heart, - Now that he knew him and his story heard, - Fierce as a lion, snatch'd he forth his sword, - Saying these words: "By Him who rules above, - Were't not that thou art sick and mad for love, - And hast no weapon--never should'st thou move, - Living or like to live, from out this grove, - But thou shouldest perish by my hand! on oath - I cast thee back the bond and surety, both, - Which thou pretendest I have made to thee. - What? very fool! remember love is free, - And I will love her maugre all thy might! - But since thou art a worthy, noble knight, - And willing to contest her in fair fight, - Have here my troth, to-morrow, at daylight, - Unknown to all, I will not fail nor fear - To meet thee as a knight in combat here, - And I will bring full arms for me and thee; - And choose the best, and leave the worst for me! - And I will bring thee meat and drink to-night, - Enough for thee, and bedding as is right: - And if the victory fall unto thine hand, - To slay me in this forest where I stand, - Thou may'st attain thy lady-love, for me!" - Then Palamon replied--"I grant it thee." - -Then these, who had once been friends, parted till the morrow. - - O Cupide, out of alle charite! all - O regne that wolt no felaw have with the! kingdom - Ful soth is seyd, that love ne lordschipe truly, nor - Wol not, thonkes, have no felaschipe. willingly, - fellowship - Wel fynden that Arcite and Palamoun. find - Arcite is riden anon unto the toun - And on the morwe, or it were dayes light, before - Ful prively two harneys hath he dight, prepared - Bothe suffisaunt and mete to darreyne sufficient - The batayl in the feeld betwix hem tweyne. field, them, two - And on his hors alone as he was born, carried - He caryed al this harneys him byforn; before - And in the grove, at tyme and place i-sette, - This Arcite and this Palamon ben mette. be - Tho chaungen gan here colour in here face, then, their - Right as the honter in the regne of Trace kingdom - That stondeth in the gappe with a spere, - Whan honted is the lyoun or the bere, - And hereth him come ruschyng in the greves, groves - And breketh bothe the bowes and the leves, breaking - And thenketh, Here cometh my mortel enemy, - Withoute faile, he mot be deed or I; without - For eyther I mot slen him at the gappe, - Or he moot slee me, if it me myshappe: - So ferden they, in chaungyng of here hew, their hue - As fer as eyther of hem other knewe. far, them - Ther nas no good day, ne no saluyng; was not, saluting - But streyt withouten wordes rehersyng, - Everich of hem helpeth to armen other, each, helped - As frendly, as he were his owen brother; own - And thanne with here scharpe speres stronge - They foyneden ech at other wonder longe, foined - Tho it semede that this Palamon then, seemed - In his fightyng were as a wood lyoun, mad - And as a cruel tygre was Arcite:[90] - As wilde boores gonne they to smyte, began - That frothen white as fome, for ire wood, their madness - Up to the ancle faught they in here blood.[91] their - And in this wise I lete hem fightyng dwelle; - And forth I wol of Theseus yow telle. you - - - O god of love, that hast no charity! - O realm, that wilt not bear a rival nigh! - Truly 'tis said, that love and lordship ne'er - Will be contented only with a share. - Arcite and Palamon have found it so. - Arcite is ridden soon the town unto: - And, on the morrow, ere the sun was high, - Two harness hath he brought forth privily, - Meet and sufficing for the lonely fight - Out in the battle-field mid daisies white. - And riding onward solitarily - All this good armour on his horse bore he: - And at the time and place which they had set - Ere long Arcite and Palamon are met. - To change began the colour of each face-- - Ev'n as the hunter's, in the land of Thrace, - When at a gap he standeth with a spear, - In the wild hunt of lion or of bear, - And heareth him come rushing through the wood, - Crashing the branches in his madden'd mood, - And think'th, "Here com'th my mortal enemy, - Now without fail or he or I must die; - For either I must slay him at the gap, - Or he must slay me if there be mishap." - So fared the knights so far as either knew, - When, seeing each, each deepen'd in his hue. - There was no greeting--there was no 'Good day,' - But mute, without a single word, straightway - Each one in arming turn'd to help the other, - As like a friend as though he were his brother. - And after that, with lances sharp and strong, - They dash'd upon each other--lief and long. - You might have fancied that this Palamon, - Fighting so blindly, were a mad lion, - And like a cruel tiger was Arcite. - As two wild boars did they together smite, - That froth as white as foam for rage--they stood - And fought until their feet were red with blood. - Thus far awhile I leave them to their fight. - And now what Theseus did I will recite. - -Then something happened that neither of them expected. - -It was a bright clear day, and Theseus, hunting with his fair queen -Ipolita, and Emelye, clothed all in green, came riding by after the hart, -with all the dogs around them; and as they followed the hart, suddenly -Theseus looked out of the dazzle of the sun, and saw Arcite and Palamon in -sharp fight, like two bulls for fury. The bright swords flashed to and fro -so hideously that it seemed as though their smallest blows would fell an -oak. But the duke knew not who they were that fought.[92] - -Theseus smote his spurs into his horse, and galloped in between the -knights, and, drawing his sword, cried, "Ho![93] No more, on pain of -death! By mighty Mars, he dies who strikes a blow in my presence!" Then -Theseus asked them what manner of men they were, who dared to fight there, -without judge or witness, as though it were in royal lists?[94] - -You may imagine the two men turning on Theseus, breathless and bloody with -fight, weary with anger, and their vengeance still unslaked. - - This Palamon answerde hastily, - And seyde: Sire, what nedeth wordes mo? need - We han the deth deserved bothe tuo. two - Tuo woful wrecches ben we, tuo kaytyves wretches, - captives - That ben encombred of oure owne lyves, encumbered by - And as thou art a rightful lord and juge - Ne yeve us neyther mercy ne refuge. give us not - And sle me first, for seynte charite; holy - But sle my felaw eek as wel as me. also - Or sle him first; for, though thou know him lyte, little - This is thy mortal fo, this is Arcite, - That fro thy lond is banyscht on his heed - For which he hath i-served to be deed. deserved - For this is he that come to thi gate - And seyde, that he highte Philostrate. was named - Thus hath he japed the ful many a yer, befooled - And thou hast maad of him thy cheef squyer. made - And this is he that loveth Emelye. - For sith the day is come that I schal dye, - I make pleynly my confessioun, - That I am thilke woful Palamoun, that - That hath thy prisoun broke wikkedly. wickedly - I am thy mortal foo, and it am I - That loveth so hoote Emelye the brighte, - That I wol dye present in hire sighte. - Therfore I aske deeth and my juwyse; sentence - But slee my felaw in the same wyse, slay - For bothe we have served to be slayn. - This worthy duk answerde anon agayn, - And seyde: This is a schort conclusioun: - Your owne mouth, by your confessioun, own - Hath dampned you bothe, and I wil it recorde. condemned - It needeth nought to pyne yow with the corde.[95] - Ye schul be deed by mighty Mars the reede! dead - - - And Palamon made answer hastily, - And said--"O Sire, why should we waste more breath? - For both of us deserve to die the death. - Two wretched creatures are we, glad to die - Tired of our lives, tired of our misery-- - And as thou art a rightful lord and judge - So give us neither mercy nor refuge! - And slay me first, for holy charity-- - But slay my fellow too as well as me! - --Or slay him first, for though thou little know, - This is Arcite--this is thy mortal foe, - Who from thy land was banished on his head, - For which he richly merits to be dead! - Yea, this is he who came unto thy gate, - And told thee that his name was Philostrate-- - Thus year by year hath he defied thine ire-- - And thou appointest him thy chiefest squire - --And this is he who loveth Emelye! - "For since the day is come when I shall die, - Thus plain I make confession, and I own - I am that miserable Palamon - Who have thy prison broken wilfully! - I am thy mortal foe,--and it is I - Who love so madly Emelye the bright, - That I would die this moment in her sight! - Therefore I ask death and my doom to-day-- - But slay my fellow in the selfsame way:-- - For we have both deserved to be slain." - And angrily the duke replied again, - "There is no need to judge you any more, - Your own mouth, by confession, o'er and o'er - Condemns you, and I will the words record. - There is no need to pain you with the cord. - Ye both shall die, by mighty Mars the red!" - -Then the queen, 'for verray wommanhede,' began to weep, and so did Emelye, -and all the ladies present. It seemed pitiful that two brave men, both of -high lineage, should come to such an end, and only for loving a lady so -faithfully. All the ladies prayed Theseus to have mercy on them, and -pardon the knights for their sakes. They knelt at his feet, weeping and -entreating him-- - - And wold have kist his feet ther as he stood, - Till atte laste aslaked was his mood; - For pite renneth sone in gentil herte, runneth - And though he first for ire quok and sterte, shook - He hath considerd shortly in a clause - The trespas of hem bothe, and eek the cause: - And although that his ire hire gylt accusede, their - Yet in his resoun he hem bothe excusede. them - - - And would have kissed his feet there as he stood, - Until at last appeased was his mood, - For pity springeth soon in gentle heart. - And though he first for rage did quake and start, - He hath considered briefly in the pause - The greatness of their crime, and, too, its cause; - And while his passion had their guilt accused, - Yet now his calmer reason both excused. - -Everybody had sympathy for those who were in love;[96] and Theseus' heart -'had compassion of women, for they wept ever in on' (continually). - -So the kindly duke softened, and said to all the crowd good-humouredly, -"What a mighty and great lord is the god of love!" - - Lo, her this Arcite and this Palamoun, here - That quytely weren out of my prisoun, freely (quit) - And might have lyved in Thebes ryally, royally - And witen I am here mortal enemy, know, their - And that here deth lith in my might also, their, lieth - And yet hath love, maugre here eyghen tuo, - I-brought hem hider bothe for to dye. - Now loketh, is nat that an heih folye? look, high - Who may not ben a fole, if that he love? be - Byholde for Goddes sake that sitteth above, - Se how they blede! be they nought wel arrayed! - Thus hath here lord, the god of love, hem payed them - Here wages and here fees for here servise. their - And yet they wenen for to ben ful wise, think - That serven love, for ought that may bifalle. serve - But this is yette the beste game of alle, - That sche, for whom they have this jolitee, fun - Can hem therfore as moche thank as me. can them, much - Sche woot no more of al this hoote fare, knows - By God, than wot a cuckow or an hare. knows - But al moot ben assayed, hoot or colde; must be tried - A man moot ben a fool other yong or olde; must be, either - I woot it by myself ful yore agon: - For in my tyme a servant was I on. one - - - "Here are this Arcite and this Palamon, - Safe out of prison both, who might have gone - And dwelt in Thebes city royally, - Knowing I am their mortal enemy, - And that their death within my power lies: - Yet hath blind Love, in spite of both their eyes, - Led them both hither only to be slain! - Behold the height of foolishness most plain! - Who is so great a fool as one in love? - For mercy's sake--by all the gods above, - See how they bleed! a pretty pair are they! - Thus their liege lord, the god of love, doth pay - Their wages, and their fees for service done; - And yet each thinks himself a wise man's son - Who serveth Love, whatever may befall. - But this is still the greatest joke of all, - That she, the cause of this rare jollity, - Owes them about as many thanks as I! - She knew no more of all this hot to-do, - By Mars! than doth a hare or a cuckoo! - But one must have one's fling, be't hot or cold; - A man will play the fool either young or old. - I know it by myself--for long ago - In my young days I bowed to Cupid's bow." - -This is as if he should say, "These two foolish boys have got nothing from -their liege lord, the god of love, but a very narrow escape with their -heads. And Emelye herself knew no more of all this hot business than a -cuckoo! But I, too, was young once, and in love, and so I won't be hard -upon them!" "I will pardon you," he added, "for the queen's sake and -Emelye's, but you must swear to me never to come and make war on me at any -time, but be ever my friends in all that you may for the future." - -And they were very thankful and promised as he commanded. - -Then Theseus spoke again, in a kind, half laughing way:-- - - To speke of real lynage and riches, speak, royal - Though that sche were a quene or a prynces, princess - Ilk of yow bothe is worthy douteles each - To wedden, when time is, but natheles marry, - nevertheless - I speke as for my suster Emelye, - For whom ye have this stryf and jelousye, - Ye woot youreself, sche may not wedde two know - At oones, though ye faughten ever mo; once, fought - That oon of yow, or be him loth or leef, unwilling or - willing - He mot go pypen in an ivy leef;[97] must - This is to say, sche may nought now have bothe, - Al be ye never so jelous, ne so wrothe. angry - - - "And as for wealth and rank, and royal birth, - Although she were the noblest upon earth, - Each of you both deserves to wed your flame - Being of equal worth; but all the same - It must be said, my sister Emelye - (For whom ye have this strife and jealousy), - You see yourselves full well that she can never - Wed two at once although ye fought for ever! - But one of you, whether he likes or no, - Must then go whistle, and endure his wo. - That is to say, she cannot have you both, - Though you be never so jealous or so wroth." - -With that he made them this offer--that Palamon and Arcite should each -bring in a year's time (50 weeks) a hundred knights, armed for the -lists,[98] and ready to do battle for Emelye; and whichever knight won, -Palamon and his host or Arcite and his host, should have her for his wife. - -Who looks happy now but Palamon? and who springs up with joy but Arcite! -Every one was so delighted with the kindness of Theseus that they all went -down on their knees to thank him--but of course Palamon and Arcite went on -their knees most. - -Now, would you like to know all the preparations Theseus made for this -great tournament? - -First, the theatre for the lists had to be built, where the tournament was -to take place. This was built round in the form of a compass, with -hundreds of seats rising up on all sides one behind another, so that -everybody could see the fight, and no one was in anybody's way. The walls -were a mile round, and all of stone, with a ditch running along the -outside. At the east and at the west stood two gates of white marble, and -there was not a carver, or painter, or craftsman of any kind that Theseus -did not employ to decorate the theatre. So that there never was such a -splendid place built in all the earth before or since. - -Then he made three temples: one over the east gate for Venus, goddess of -love; one over the west gate for Mars, who is god of war; and towards the -north, he built a temple all of alabaster and red coral; and that was for -Diana. All these beautiful things cost more money than would fill a big -carriage. - -Now I will tell you what the temples were like inside. - -First, in the Temple of Venus were wonderful paintings of feasts, dancing, -and playing of music, and beautiful gardens, and mountains, and people -walking about with the ladies they liked. All these were painted on the -walls in rich colour. - -There was a statue of Venus besides, floating on a sea of glass, and the -glass was made like waves that came over her. She had a citole in her -hand, which is an instrument for playing music on; and over her head doves -were flying. Little Cupid was also there, with his wings, and his bow and -arrows, and his eyes blinded, as he is generally made. - -Then, in the Temple of Mars, who is the god of war, there were all sorts -of dangers and misfortunes painted. Battles, and smoke, and forests all -burning with flames, and men run over by carts, and sinking ships, and -many other awful sights. Then a smith forging iron--swords and knives for -war. - -The statue of Mars was standing on a car, armed and looking as grim as -possible: there was a hungry wolf beside him. - -As for the Temple of Diana, that was very different from Venus's. Venus -wishes everybody to marry the one they love. Diana does not want any one -to marry at all, but to hunt all day in the fields. So the pictures in -Diana's Temple were all about hunting, and the merry life in the forest. - -Her statue showed her riding on a stag, with dogs running round about, and -underneath her feet was the moon. She was dressed in the brightest green, -and she had a bow and arrows in her hand. - -Now you know all about the splendid theatre and the three temples. - -At last the day of the great tournament approached! - -Palamon and Arcite came to Athens as they had promised, each bringing with -him a hundred knights, well armed; and never before, since the world -began, was seen a sight so magnificent. Everybody who could bear arms was -only too anxious to be among the two hundred knights--and proud indeed -were those who were chosen! for you know, that if to-morrow there should -be a like famous occasion, every man in England or anywhere else, who had -a fair lady-love, would try to be there. - -All the knights that flocked to the tournament wore shining armour -according to their fancy. Some wore a coat of mail, which is chain-armour, -and a breast-plate, and a gipon: others wore plate-armour, made of broad -sheets of steel; some carried shields, some round targets. Again, some -took most care of their legs, and carried an axe; others bore maces of -steel. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - -It was on a Sunday, about nine o'clock in the morning, when all the lords -and knights came into Athens. - -With Palamon came the great Licurgus, King of Thrace; with Arcite came the -mighty King of India, Emetrius: and I must give you the exact account of -how these two kings looked, which is most minute. I should not wonder if -these were the likenesses of Palamon and Arcite themselves.[99] - -First, then, comes-- - - Ligurge himself, the grete kyng of Trace; - Blak was his berd, and manly was his face. - The cercles of his eyen in his heed eyes - They gloweden bytwixe yolw and reed, between - And lik a griffoun loked he aboute, - With kempe heres[100] on his browes stowte; stout - His lymes grete, his brawnes hard and stronge, limbs, muscles - His schuldres brood, his armes rounde and longe. shoulders - And as the gyse was in his contre, guise - Ful heye upon a chare of gold stood he, high, car - With foure white boles in a trays. bulls, the traces - In stede of cote armour on his harnays,[101] - With nales yolwe, and bright as eny gold, - He had a bere skyn, cole-blak for-old. very old - His lange heer y-kempt byhynd his bak, long hair combed - As eny raven fether it schon for blak. shone - A wrethe of gold arm-gret, and huge of wighte, - Upon his heed, set ful of stoones brighte, - Of fyne rubies and of fyn dyamauntz. diamonds - Aboute his chare ther wenten white alauntz,[102] - Twenty and mo, as grete as eny stere, steer (bullock) - To hunt at the lyoun or at the bere, - And folwed him, with mosel fast i-bounde, muzzle - Colerd with golde, and torettz[103] fyled rounde. spikes, filled - - - Licurge himself, the mighty king of Thrace; - Black was his beard, and manly was his face, - The circles of his eyes within his head - Glow'd of a hue part yellow and part red, - And like a griffon looked he about, - With hair down-combed upon his brows so stout; - His limbs were great, his muscles hard and strong, - His shoulders broad, his arms were round and long. - According to the fashion of his land, - Full high upon a car of gold stood he, - And to the car four bulls were link'd, milk-white. - 'Stead of coat-armour on his harness bright, - With yellow nails and bright as any gold, - A bear's skin hung, coal-black, and very old. - His flowing hair was comb'd behind his back, - As any raven's wing it shone for black. - A wreath of gold, arm-thick, of monstrous weight, - Crusted with gems, upon his head was set, - Full of fine rubies and clear diamonds. - About his car there leaped huge white hounds, - Twenty and more, as big as any steer, - To chase the lion or to hunt the bear, - And follow'd him, with muzzles firmly bound, - Collar'd in gold, with golden spikes around. - -The other portrait has a less barbaric splendour about it. - - The gret Emetreus, the kyng of Ynde, India - Uppon a steede bay, trapped in steel, - Covered with cloth of gold dyapred wel, diapered like - Cam rydyng lyk the god of armes, Mars. - His coote armour was of a cloth of Tars,[104] - Cowched of perlys whyte, round and grete. overlaid - His sadil was of brend gold new i-bete; burnished - A mantelet[105] upon his schuldre hangyng mantle - Bret-ful of rubies reed, as fir sparclyng. cram-full, fire - His crispe her lik rynges was i-ronne, run - And that was yalwe, and gliteryng as the sonne. yellow-brown - His nose was heigh, his eyen bright cytryn, - His lippes rounde, his colour was sangwyn, - A fewe freknes in his face y-spreynd, sprinkled - Betwixe yolwe and somdel blak y-meynd, somewhat, mixed - And as a lyoun he his lokyng caste. looking - Of fyve and twenty yeer his age I caste. suppose - His berd was wel bygonne for to sprynge; - His voys was as a trumpe thunderynge. - Upon his heed he wered of laurer grene laurel - A garlond freische and lusty for to sene. - Upon his hond he bar for his deduyt[106] hand, delight - An egle tame, as eny lylie whyt. eagle, any - - - The great Emetrius, the Indian King, - Upon a bay steed trapp'd in shining steel, - Covered with cloth of gold from head to heel, - Came riding like the god of armies, Mars; - His coat-armour was made of cloth of Tars, - O'erlaid with pearls all white and round and great: - His saddle was of smooth gold, newly beat. - A mantlet on his shoulder as he came, - Shone, cramm'd with rubies sparkling like red flame, - And his crisp hair in shining rings did run, - Yellow it was, and glittering as the sun. - His nose was high, his eyes were bright citrine, - His lips were round, his colour was sanguine, - With a few freckles scattered here and there, - 'Twixt black and yellow mingling they were, - And lion-like his glance went to and fro. - His age was five and twenty years, I trow. - A downy beard had just begun to spring, - His voice was like a trumpet thundering. - Upon his head he wore a garland green, - Of laurel, fresh, and pleasant to be seen. - Upon his wrist he bore for his delight - An eagle, tame, and as a lily white. - -There was a great festival, and the dancing, and minstrelsy, and feasting, -and rich array of Theseus' palace were most wondrous to behold. I should -never have time to tell you - - What ladies fayrest ben, or best daunsynge, be - Or which of hem can carole[107] best and singe, sing - Ne who most felyngly speketh of love; - What haukes sitten on the perche above, sit - What houndes liggen on the floor adoun. lie - - - What ladies danced the best, or fairest were, - Or which of them best sung or carol'd there; - Nor who did speak most feelingly of love, - What hawks were sitting on the perch above, - What hounds lay crouching on the floor adown. - -Then there were the temples to visit, to ask grace and favour from the -gods. Palamon went to the Temple of Venus, the goddess of love, and prayed -her to help him to gain his lady. Venus promised him success. - -Arcite thought it more prudent to go to the god of war, Mars; so he -sacrificed in his temple, and prayed for victory in the lists. Mars -promised him the victory. - -But Emelye did not wish to marry either of her lovers. She went to the -temple of Diana early in the morning, and asked the goddess to help her -_not_ to get married! She preferred her free life, walking in the woods -and hunting. She made two fires on Diana's altar: but Diana would not -listen to her, and both the fires went out suddenly, with a whistling -noise, and Emelye was so frightened that she began to cry. Then Diana told -her she was destined to marry one of these poor knights who had suffered -so much for her, and so she must make up her mind to it. - -Emelye then departed: but Mars and Venus had a great dispute, because, as -you know, they had promised success to each of the two knights, and -Emelye could not marry both. Now, you shall see how each of them managed -to gain a victory. - -All Monday was spent in jousting and dancing, and early on Tuesday began -the great tourney. - -Such a stamping of horses and chinking of harness![108] Such lines and -crowds of horsemen! There you might see armour so rare and so rich, -wrought with goldsmith's work, and embroidery, and steel! Helmets and -hauberks and trappings--squires nailing on the spearheads, and buckling -helmets--rubbing up the shields, and lacing the plates with thongs of -leather. Nobody was idle. - - The fomy stedes on the golden bridel - Gnawyng, and faste the armurers also - With fyle and hamer prikyng to and fro; - Yemen on foote, and communes many oon commons many a - one - With schorte staves, thikke as they may goon. go - - - The foamy steeds upon the golden bridle - Gnawing, and fast the armourers also - With file and hammer pricking to and fro; - Yeomen on foot, and flocking thro' the land - Commons with short staves, thick as they can stand. - -Pipes, trumpets, drums, and clarions were heard, that serve to drown the -noise of battle with music--little groups of people gathered about the -palace, here three--there ten--arguing the merits of the two Theban -knights. Some said one thing, some another. Some backed the knight with -the black beard, others the bald one, others the knight with close hair. -Some said, "_He_ looks grim, and will fight!" and "_He_ hath an axe that -weighs twenty pound!" - -Duke Theseus sits at a window, like a god on his throne. The masses of -people are pressing towards him to see him, and to salute him humbly, and -to hear his commands, and his decree! - -A herald on a tall scaffold shouts out "_Ho!_" till all the noise of the -people is hushed, and when all is quiet, he tells them the duke's will:-- - -"My lord hath of his wisdom considered that it were destruction to gentle -blood to fight in this tourney, as in mortal battle. Therefore, to save -life, he now changes his first purpose. - -"No arrows, pole-axe, or short knife shall be brought into the lists, no -short sword, either in the hand or worn at the side. No man shall ride -more than one course with a sharp spear. Whoso comes to harm shall be -taken, and not slain, but brought to the stake, there to abide according -to order. And should a chieftain on either side be taken, or slay his -fellow, no longer shall the tourney last. God speed you, go forth, and lay -on fast! Fight your fill with mace and longsword!"[109] - -The shouts of all the people rang right up to the sky, "God save such a -good lord, who will have no bloodshed!" - -Up go the trumpets and the music, and through the broad city, all hung -with cloth of gold, the crowds ride to the lists. The noble duke rode -first, and the Theban knights on either side, afterwards came the queen -and fair Emelye, and then all the company followed according to their -rank. - -When they came to the lists, everybody pressed forward to the seats. -Arcite goes in at the west gate by Mars' temple, with a red banner, and -all his hundred knights. At the same moment Palamon enters the east gate -by Venus' temple, with his white banner and brave host. Never was there -such a sight. The two companies were so evenly matched there was no -choosing between them. Then they ranged themselves in two ranks; the names -were read out, that there might be no cheating in the numbers; the gates -were shut, and loud was the cry, "Do now your devoir, young knights -proud!" - -The heralds have ceased to ride up and down. The trumpets ring out--in go -the spears steadily to the rests--the sharp spur is in the horse's side. -There you may see who can joust and who can ride--there the shafts of the -spears shiver on the thick shields--he feels the thrust right through the -body. Up spring the lances twenty foot high, out fly the swords like -silver--helmets are crushed and shivered--out bursts the blood in stern, -red streams! See, the strong horses stumble--down go all--a man rolls -under foot like a ball. See, he fences at his foe with a truncheon, and -hustles him while his horse is down. He is hurt through the body, and is -dragged off to the stake--and there he must stay. Another is led off to -that other side. All the humane orders of Theseus are forgotten. - -From time to time Theseus stops the fray to give time for refreshment and -drink, should the combatants need it. - -Often have these two Thebans fought before now; each has often unhorsed -the other. But in spite of Theseus' commands, never was tiger bereft of -its young so cruel in the hunt, as Arcite in his jealousy was on Palamon. -Never was hunted lion, mad with hunger, so eager for blood as Palamon for -Arcite's life. See, they are both bleeding. - -As the day went by, many in the field were carried away by excitement. The -strong King Emetrius flew at Palamon as he fought with Arcite, and ran his -sword into him. Then there was a frightful uproar. Emetrius could not -govern himself, and was dragged off to the stake by the force of twenty -men, and while trying to rescue Palamon, the great King Licurge was borne -down; and King Emetrius, despite his strength, was flung out of his saddle -a sword's length, so violently Palamon hit at him; but he was carried to -the stake for all that, and this tumult put an end to the tourney, -according to the rule Theseus had made. - -How bitterly wretched was Palamon, now that he could not ride any more at -his foe! Only by an unfair attack had he lost ground. Theseus, seeing them -all fighting together wildly, cried out "_Ho!_" and stopped the tourney. -Then he said, "I will be a true judge, and impartial. Arcite of Thebes -shall have Emelye, who, by good luck, has fairly won her!" - -Shouts of delight answered Theseus, till it seemed as if the theatre would -fall with the noise. - -It is said that Venus was so disappointed at Palamon, her knight, losing, -that she wept, and went for help to her father, the god Saturn. Saturn -said to her, "Daughter, hold thy peace; Mars has had his way, but you -shall yet have yours!" - -Now you shall see what happened. - -This fierce Arcite, hearing the duke's decision, and the cries and yells -of the heralds and all the people, raised his visor and spurred his horse -along the great place and looked up at Emelye. And Emelye looked down at -him kindly (for women always follow the favour of fortune), and smiled. - -It was in this sweet moment, when he was off his guard, that something -startled his tired and excited horse, and it leapt aside and foundered as -it leapt, and before Arcite could save himself, he was flung down, and his -breast-bone smashed against the saddle-bow--so that he lay as dead, his -face black with the sudden rush of blood. - -Poor Arcite! to lose all, just in the moment of supreme joy and victory! - -He was carried out of the lists, broken-hearted, to Theseus' palace, where -his harness was cut off him, and he was laid in a beautiful bed. He was -still conscious, and always asking piteously for Emelye. - -As for Duke Theseus, he came back to the town of Athens in great state and -cheer. Were it not for this unlucky accident at the end, there had not -been a single mishap, and as the leeches said Arcite would soon be well -again, _that_ was no such great disaster. None had been actually killed, -though many had been grievously wounded: which was very gratifying. For -all the broken arms could be mended, and the bruises and cuts healed with -salves and herbs and charms. - -There had even been no discomfiture, for falls did not count as shame, nor -was it any disgrace to be dragged to a stake with kicks and hootings, and -held there hand and foot all alone, whilst one's horse was driven out by -the sticks of the grooms. That was no disgrace, for it was not cowardice; -and such things _must_ happen at a tourney. And so all the people made -mirth. - -The duke gave beautiful gifts to all the foreign knights, and there were -ever so many more shows and feasts for the next three days, and the two -mighty kings had the greatest honour paid them, till all men had gone home -to their houses. - -So there was an end of the great battle. - -But Arcite did not get well so soon as they thought he would. His wound -swelled up, and the sore increased at his heart more and more. He was so -injured that the balms and the salves gave him no ease, and nature could -not do her part. And when nature cannot work, farewell physic! there is no -more to be done but carry the man to the churchyard. - -In short, Arcite was evidently dying, and he sent for Emelye, who held -herself his wife, and for Palamon, his cousin, and they both came to his -bedside. - -Then he told Emelye all the sorrow that was in his heart, at losing her -whom he had loved so dearly; and how he still loved her, and wanted her to -pray for him when he was dead. - - Allas, the woo! allas, the peynes stronge pains - That I for you have suffred, and so longe! suffered - Allas, the deth! allas, myn Emelye! death - Allas, departyng of our compainye! separating - Allas, myn hertes queen! allas, my wyf! - Myn hertes lady, endere of my lyf! - What is this world? what asken men to have? ask - Now with his love, now in his colde grave - Allone, withouten eny compainye! any - Farwel, my swete foo! myn Emelye![110] foe - And softe tak me in youre armes tweye, two - For love of God, and herkneth what I seye. hearken - - - "Alas, the woe! alas, the trials strong - That I for you have borne--and, ah, so long! - Alas, to die! alas, mine Emelye! - Alas, that we so soon part company! - Alas, my heart's one queen! alas, my wife! - Ah, my heart's lady, ender of my life! - What is life worth? what do men yearn to have? - Now with his darling--now in his cold grave, - Alone, alone, and with no company! - Farewell, my sweet foe--farewell, Emelye, - And softly take me in your arms to-day - For love of God, and listen what I say." - -Then Arcite pointed to Palamon, and said-- - - I have heer with my cosyn Palamon - Had stryf and rancour many a day agon - For love of yow, and for my jelousie. - - * * * * * - - So Jupiter have of my soule part, - As in this world right now ne knowe I non - So worthy to be loved as Palamon, - That serveth you, and wol don al his lyf. - And if that evere ye schul ben a wyf, shall - Foryet not Palamon, the gentil man. forget - - And with that word his speche faille gan, began to fail - For fro his feete up to his brest was come - The cold of deth, that hadde him overnome.[111] - And yet moreover in his armes two already - The vital strengthe is lost, and al ago. gone - Only the intellect, withouten more, without - That dwellede in his herte sik and sore, - Gan fayllen, when the herte felte deth; began to fail - Dusked his eyen two, and failled his breth. darkened, failed - But on his lady yit caste he his eye; - His laste word was--_Mercy, Emelye_. - - - "I have here with my cousin Palamon - Had strife and hatred days and years agone - For love of you, and for my jealousy. - - * * * * * - - So Jupiter have of my soul a part, - As in the whole wide world now know I none - So worthy to be loved as Palamon, - Who served you well, and will do all his life. - Therefore, if ever you shall be a wife, - Forget not Palamon, that noble man." - - And with that word his speech to fail began, - For from his feet up to his breast was come - The cold of death, that hath him overcome. - And now moreover, in his arms at last - The vital strength is lost, and all is past. - Only the intellect, all clear before, - That lingered in his heart so sick and sore, - Began to falter when the heart felt death, - Then his two eyes grew dark, and faint his breath, - But on his lady yet cast he his eye; - And his last word was--"_Mercy, Emelye_." - -He was dead. - -Emelye was carried away from Arcite, fainting; and the sorrow she felt is -more than I can tell. Day and night she wept, for she had learned to love -Arcite as much as if he had been already her husband, so that she was nigh -to dying. - -All the city mourned for him, young and old. Theseus, and Palamon, and -everybody was filled with grief. Never had there been such sorrow. - -Theseus had a splendid bier made, for Arcite to be burned according to the -custom, with the greatest honours. Huge oak trees were cut down on purpose -to burn on his pile. Arcite's body was covered with cloth of gold, with -white gloves on his hands, his sword by his side, and a wreath of laurel -on his head. His face was uncovered, so that all the people might see him, -when he was carried forth from the great hall of the palace. - -Theseus ordered that Arcite should be burned in that very grove where -Palamon and Arcite had first fought for love of Emelye, on that sweet May -morning a year ago. So the funeral pile was raised in that grove. - -Three beautiful white horses, covered with glittering steel harness and -the arms of Arcite, bore all his armour and weapons before him to the -spot. - -The whole city was hung with black, and the noblest Greeks in the land -carried the bier. Duke Theseus, and his old father Egeus, and Palamon, -walked beside it, carrying in their hands golden cups, full of milk and -wine and blood, to throw upon the pile. Then came Emelye, weeping, with -fire in her hand, as the custom was, wherewith to set light to the pile. - -With great care and ceremony the wood and straw were built up around the -body, so high that they seemed to reach to the sky, and cloth of gold and -garlands of flowers were hung all round it. - -Poor Emelye fainted when she set fire to the pile, in the course of the -funeral service, for her grief was more than she could bear. As soon as -the fire burned fast, perfumes and jewels were flung in, and Arcite's -shield, spear, and vestments, and the golden cups. Then all the Greeks -rode round the fire to the left, three times shouting, and three times -rattling their spears; and three times the women cried aloud. - -And when all was over, Emelye was led home; and there were curious -ceremonies performed, called the lykewake, at nightfall. - - * * * * * - -Long afterwards, Theseus sent for Palamon. The mourning for Arcite was -over in the city, but Palamon came, still wearing his black clothes, quite -sorrowful. - -Then Theseus brought Emelye to Palamon, and reminded them both of Arcite's -dying words. He took Emelye's hand and placed it in the hand of Palamon. -Then Palamon and Emelye were married, and they lived happy ever after. - - For now is Palamon in alle wele, welfare - Lyvynge in blisse, in richesse, and in hele; health - And Emelye him loveth so tendrely, - And he hire serveth al so gentilly, nobly - That nevere was ther no word hem bitweene there, between - Of jelousye, or any other teene. affliction - - Thus endeth Palamon and Emelye, - And God save al this fayre compainye. fair - - - For now this Palamon hath all the wealth, - Living in bliss, in riches, and in health; - And Emelye loveth him so tenderly, - And he doth cherish her so faithfully, - That all their days no thought they had again - Of jealousy, nor any other pain. - - Thus endeth Palamon and Emelye, - And God save all this kindly company! - - -Notes by the Way. - -The outline of the foregoing Tale was borrowed by Chaucer from Boccaccio's -'Theseida:' but the treatment and conception of character are wholly his -own. - -It is a common thing to say of the Knight's Tale that with all its merits -the two principal actors, Arcite and Palamon, are very much alike, and -constantly may be mistaken for each other. It seems to me that to say such -a thing is a proof of not having read the tale, for the characters of the -two men are almost diametrically opposed, and never does one act or speak -as the other would do. - -Notice, therefore, the striking contrast all through the story between the -characters. From the first, Arcite in the prison is seen to be cooler and -more matter-of-fact than Palamon, whose violent nature suffers earliest -from imprisonment, mentally, perhaps morally; and whom we find pacing -restlessly about, and ceaselessly bemoaning his fate, while Arcite is -probably sitting still in philosophic resignation. - -Palamon is clearly a man of violent, uncontrolled passions--reckless, even -rash, and frantically jealous. Arcite's is by far the stronger -mind--wise, clever, cool, but quite as brave and fervent as his friend. -Every incident brings out their character in strong relief. To Palamon it -is given to see Emelye first. He mistakes her for Venus, and prays to her -as such--his mind being probably slightly disordered by the privations of -mediaeval prison life, as a mind so excitable would soon become. Arcite -recognizes her instantly as a woman, and claims her calmly. Palamon 'flies -out,' reproaches him bitterly, violently, with the term most abhorrent to -the chivalrous spirit of the time--'false.' Arcite answers with passion, -but he is matter-of-fact in the midst of it, reminding his friend how -little consequence it is to either of them, for both are perpetual -prisoners; and he can even wind up with a touch of humour, quoting the two -fighting dogs and the kite. - -On his release from prison, Arcite follows out successfully a most -difficult _role_, concealing his identity in the midst of Theseus' court, -and in the agitating presence of his lady, at the risk of his life--_for -years_: a stratagem requiring constant _sang-froid_ and self-control, -which would have been as impossible to Palamon, as mistaking a beautiful -woman for a divine vision would have been to Arcite. He does not forget -Palamon during this time, though powerless to help him. He is unselfish -enough to pray Juno for him, in his soliloquy in the wood. - -At the meeting of the rivals in the wood, Palamon, mastered at once by -rage, bids Arcite fight with him, that instant, regardless of his -(Palamon's) being unarmed: he fears nothing, he only wants to fight. -Arcite, also furious, can nevertheless see the common-sense side of the -affair, and the need for fair play and proper accoutrements; and -enumerates very sensibly the arms and other necessaries he will bring -Palamon, including (so matter-of-fact is he) _food and bedding for the -night_. - -When the combatants are discovered in their illegal and unwitnessed fight, -Palamon does not fear death. He is only anxious that, whether he be dead -or alive, Arcite shall not have Emelye; and reiterates his entreaty that -Arcite may be slain too--before or after, he doesn't care which, as long -as he is slain. - -Palamon's intense jealousy, which could face death cheerfully, but not the -yielding up of his beloved to another man, and his anxiety that Arcite -should not survive him, are of course less ignoble than they seem if -viewed in the light of the times. It was this same jealousy which prompted -him to betray Arcite as soon as he got the chance--forgetting that Arcite -had not betrayed _him_, the day before, when he was in his power. But -Chaucer himself once or twice refers to his mind being unhinged--'wood for -love'--which claims our forbearance. - -Again, the _appearance_ of Licurge (taken as Palamon's portrait) is very -characteristic. His eye is fierce, his get-up is mighty, barbaric, -bizarre; but Emetrius (Arcite) appears in a much more usual way. Licurge -mounts a chariot drawn by bulls--Emetrius rides on horseback, like an -ordinary knight. Licurge is enveloped in a bear's hide--Emetrius is -properly caparisoned. - -It is also noteworthy that Palamon entreats _Venus_ for success, for he -can think of nothing but his love: Arcite thinks it more prudent to -address Mars, since he has got to win Emelye by fight--he has _considered_ -the question, you see; and it is therefore (I think) that the preference -is given to Palamon in marrying Emelye, because society so exalted the -passion of love in those days, while Arcite is made to suffer for his very -prudence, which _might_ argue a less absorbing passion. - -It was a master-thought to make Arcite die by an accident, so that neither -of the rivals vanquished the other, and Palamon escapes the possible -reproach of winning his happiness by slaying his friend. - -The sympathy, however, remains with Arcite. His character is beautifully -developed. It is not inconsistent with his power of self-control and brave -heart, noble throughout, that he is able to make such a sacrifice on his -death-bed as to give Emelye to Palamon. It is a sign of forgiveness of -Palamon, who, at the point of death, showed no such generosity; and the -greatness of the sacrifice must be estimated by remembering the mediaeval -view of love and love-matters. - -I do not think that Palamon could have done that, any more than he could -have concealed his identity in Theseus' court.[112] - - - - -The Friar's Tale. - - -This worthy Friar (Chaucer says), as he rode along with the rest of the -company, kept looking askance at the Summoner, whom he evidently regarded -as an enemy,[113] and though, as yet, for common civility's sake, he had -not said anything to him which could cause a regular quarrel, it was quite -plain there was little love lost between them. - -When his turn came to tell his story, he saw a chance of annoying the -Summoner, which he didn't mean to lose; and, disagreeable as the Summoner -was, it is not very surprising. - - But if it like to this companye, - I wil yow of a Sompnour telle a game; joke - Parde, ye may wel knowe by the name, - That of a Sompnour may no good be sayd; - I pray that noon of yow be evel apayd. disappointed - - - "But if agreeable to the company, - I'll tell you of a Summoner such a game - Belike you may imagine from the name, - That of a Summoner can no good be said. - I pray that none of you be ill repaid!" - -The Summoner, who was inoffensive enough just then, whatever he might have -been at other times, was not very well pleased at having his trade spoken -of in such terms, and felt that it was all a hit at himself; and mine -host, to prevent further squabbling, breaks in with--"Now, Friar, it is -not very courteous to speak at a companion in that style; a man of your -calling ought to know better:-- - - In companye we wol have no debaat: - Telleth your tale, and let the Sompnour be. tell - Nay, quoth the Sompnour, let him saye to me - What so him list; whan it cometh to my lot - By God I schal him quyten every grot. requite, groat - I schal him telle which a gret honour great - Is to ben a fals flateryng lymytour! be, false - - - "In company we will have no debate, - Tell on your tale, and let the Summoner be." - "Nay," cried the Summoner, "let him say of me - What he may choose. When my turn comes, good lack! - All he has said I'll pay him fairly back! - I'll tell him what a pretty trade is his, - Beggar and flattering limitor that he is!" - -Mine host cries out, "Peace, no more of this!" and begs the Friar to go -on. - - * * * * * - -Once upon a time there was an archdeacon in my country who punished with -great severity all kinds of misdoings. - -He had a Summoner ready to his hand, who worked under this strict -archdeacon with equal severity. A slyer fellow was there none in England; -and most cunningly he watched the people in secret, so as to find out how -best to catch them tripping. - -I shall not spare this Summoner here, though he be mad as a hare with it -all; for Summoners have no jurisdiction over us Friars, you know, and -never will have, all the days of their lives. We are out of their power! - - ["So are other refuse of the people[114] besides Friars!" interrupted - the angry Summoner, when he heard that. - - "Peace, with bad luck to you!" cries mine host, also getting angry; - "and let the Friar tell his story. Now tell on, master, and let the - Summoner gale!"[115]] - -This false thief--this Summoner--used to find out, in all sorts of -underhand ways, what people did, right or wrong, by spying in secret, and -by keeping people to spy for him. And when he found out anybody doing -wrong, he would threaten to summon them before the court, and they used to -bribe him with money to let them off. If they were too poor to bribe him, -he would make the archdeacon punish them; but if they had enough money to -give him, he did not care how many bad things they did, and never told the -archdeacon. This was very unjust and wicked, as it encouraged people to do -wrong; and the Summoner grew quite rich in this evil way, for he kept all -the money himself, and did not give it to the archdeacon. He was, you see, -a thief as well as a spy; - - For in this world nys dogge for the bowe[116] - That can an hurt dere from an hol y-knowe, whole - - - No dog on earth that's trained to the bow - Can a hurt deer from an unhurt one know, - -better than this cunning man knew what everybody was about,-- - - And for that was the fruyt of al his rent, because - Therfore theron he set all his entent. thereon, purpose - And so bifel, that oones on a day befell, once - This Sompnour, ever wayting on his pray, - Rod forth to sompne a widew, an old ribibe,[117] - Feynyng a cause, for he wolde han a bribe. - And happede that he say bifore him ryde saw - A gay yeman under a forest syde. - A bowe he bar, and arwes bright and kene; - He had upon a courtepy of grene; short cloak - An hat upon his heed with frenges blake. head - Sir, quoth this Sompnour, heyl and wel overtake. overtaken - Welcome, quod he, and every good felawe. fellow - Whider ridestow under this grene schawe? ridest thou, wood - (Sayde this yiman) wiltow fer to-day? - This Sompnour him[118] answerd and sayde, Nay: - Here faste by, quod he, is myn entent purpose - To ryden, for to reysen up a rent raise - That longith to my lordes duete. duty - - - And, since that was the source of all his pelf, - To winning gain he did devote himself. - And so it chanc'd that, once upon a day, - This Summoner, ever waiting for his prey, - Rode forth to summon a widow, a poor soul, - And feign'd a cause, that he might get a dole. - It happen'd that he saw before him ride - A yeoman gay, along the forest side. - A bow he bore, and arrows, bright and keen; - He had on a short upper cloak of green; - A black-fringed hat upon his head was set. - The Summoner cried out, "Hail, sir, and well met!" - "Welcome," quoth he, "and every one as good! - And whither ridest thou in this green wood? - (The yeoman said) and is it far you go?" - The Summoner made answer, and said, "No: - Close handy here my errand lies," quoth he, - "I ride to raise a rent that's owing me, - Belonging to my master's property." - -"Art thou a bailiff, then?" asks the yeoman. The Summoner was ashamed to -say what he really was, so he said, "Yes." - -"Good," said the stranger. "Thou art a bailiff and I am another. Let us be -friends. I am unknown in this country; but if you will come and see me in -my country, I have plenty of gold and silver in my chest, and I will share -it all with you." - -"Thank you," said the greedy Summoner; and they shook hands, and promised -to be staunch friends and sworn brothers till they died! And thus they -rode on together. - -The Summoner, who was always inquisitive and asking questions, was very -anxious to know where he could find this amiable new friend, who was so -free with his money. - - Brother, quoth he, wher now is your dwellyng, - Another day if that I schulde yow seeche? seek - - "Brother," quoth he, "your dwelling now, where is't, - If I some future day the place could reach?" - -Notice the cunning yeoman's answer:-- - - This yiman him answered in softe speche: - Brother, quod he, fer in the north[119] contre, - Wheras I hope somtyme I schal the se; where - Er we depart I schal the so wel wisse, separate, teach - That of myn hous ne schaltow never misse. shalt thou, miss - - - The yeoman answered him in softest speech: - "Brother," quoth he, "far in the north countree, - Whereat I hope sometime I shall thee see. - Before we part I shall direct thee so, - Thou canst not fail my dwelling-place to know." - -You will see later why he was so anxious to bring the Summoner to his own -dwelling. - - Now, brother, quod this Sompnour, I yow pray you - Teche me, whil that we ryden by the way, ride - Syn that ye ben a baily as am I, since, be - Som subtilte, as tel me faithfully subtilty - In myn office how I may moste[120] wynne. my - And spare not for consciens or for synne, refrain - But, as my brother, tel me how do ye? - - - "Now, brother," said the Summoner, "I pray, - Teach me while we are riding on our way, - Since you a bailiff are, as well as I, - Some subtle craft, and tell me faithfully - How in my office I most gold may win, - And hide not aught for conscience or for sin, - But as my brother, tell me how do ye?" - -The strange yeoman is delighted at these questions, and you will see that -in his answer he pretends to describe himself, but he is really describing -all the Summoner does! - - Now, by my trouthe, brothir myn, sayde he, - As I schal telle the a faithful tale. - My wages ben ful streyt and eek ful smale; narrow, small - My lord to me is hard and daungerous, severe - And myn office is ful laborous, laborious - And therfor by extorciouns[121] I lyve. - Forsoth I take al that men wil me yive, give - Algate by sleighte or by violence, always, cunning - Fro yer to yer I wynne my despence, - I can no better telle faithfully. - - Now, certes, quod this Sompnour, so fare I. - I spare not to take, God it woot, knows - But-if it be to hevy or to hoot.[122] unless - What I may gete in counseil prively, get - No more consciens of that have I; conscience - Nere myn extorcions I mighte not lyven, were it not for - Ne of such japes I wil not be schriven. games, shriven - Stomak ne conscience know I noon. - I schrew thes schrifte-fadres, everichoon. curse - Wel be we met, by God and by seint Jame! - But, leve brother, telle me thy name? - Quod this Sompnour. Right[123] in this menewhile - This yeman gan a litel for to smyle. began - Brothir, quod he, woltow that I the telle? wilt thou - I am a feend, my dwellyng is in helle, - And her I ryde about my purchasyng, here - To wite wher men wol yive me eny thing. know - My purchas is theffect of all my rent. the effect - Loke how thou ridest for the same entent - To wynne good, thou rekkist never how, - Right so fare I, for ryde I wolde now - Unto the worldes ende for a praye. prey - A, quod the Sompnour, _benedicite_, what say ye?[124] ah - - - "Now, by my troth, my brother dear," quoth he, - "I will be frank with you, and tell you all: - The wages that I get are very small, - My master's harsh to me, and stingy too, - And hard is all the work I have to do; - And therefore by extortion do I live. - Forsooth, I take what any one will give; - Either by cunning or by violence - From year to year I snatch my year's expense. - No better can I tell you honestly." - - "Now, truly," cried the Summoner, "so do I! - I never spare to take a thing, God wot, - Unless it be too heavy or too hot. - What I can grasp by counsel privily, - No scruples in that matter trouble me. - Without extortion I could ne'er subsist, - So in my pranks I ever will persist; - Stomach nor conscience truly I have none. - I hate all these shrift-fathers, every one! - Well met are we, our ways are just the same. - But, my dear fellow, tell me now your name?" - The Summoner entreated him. Meanwhile - That yeoman broke into a little smile. - "Brother," he answered, "wilt thou have me tell? - --I am a fiend, my dwelling is in hell, - And here I ride about my purchasing - To know what men will give me anything. - Such gains make up the whole of all my rent. - Look how thou journeyest for the same intent - To reap thy gains, thou carest never how! - Just so I do--for I will journey now - Unto the wide world's end to get my prey." - "Mercy!" the Summoner cried, "what is't ye say?" - -He is rather aghast at this awful confession, bad as he admits himself to -be. He had sincerely thought it was a real yeoman; and when he says to -him, with a strange and evil smile, "Shall I tell you?--_I am a fiend, my -dwelling is in hell_," the horrible candour strikes him dumb for a minute. -He rather wishes he wasn't his sworn brother. But he very soon gets over -this, thinking of the gold and silver, and begins to talk quite friendly. - - I wende ye were a yemen trewely: truly - Ye have a mannes schap as wel as I. shape - - - "I thought you were a yeoman, verily: - Ye have a human shape as well as I." - -"Have you then a distinct form in hell like what I see?" - -"No, certainly," says the fiend, "there we have none, but we take a form -when we will." - - Or ellis make yow seme that we ben schape It seem to you - Somtyme like a man, or like an ape; - Or lik an aungel can I ryde or go; - It is no wonder thing though it be so. - - - "Or else we make you think we have a shape, - Sometimes like to a man, or like an ape; - Or like an angel I can ride or go; - It is not wondrous that it should be so." - -"Why, a common conjurer can deceive you any day, and I have tenfold more -cunning than a conjurer!" - -"Why," said the Summoner, quite interested, "do you have several shapes, -and not only one?" - -"We borrow whatever shape is best to catch our prey," said the evil one. - -"What makes you take all that trouble?" says the Summoner. - - Ful many a cause, lieve sir Sompnour, dear - Sayde this feend. But al thing hath a tyme; - The day is schort, and it is passed prime,[125] - And yit ne wan I nothing in this day; won - I wol entent to winning, if I may, attend - And not entende our thinges to declare. - - - "Full many a cause, my good sir Summoner," - Replied the fiend. "But all things have a time; - The day is short, and it is now past prime, - Yet have I not won anything to-day; - I'll give my mind to winning, if I may, - And not our privy doings to declare." - -For you see the fiend was more intent upon his business than even the -Summoner. However, he goes on to say, that sometimes he is obliged to -work under the great God, without whose sufferance he could never have any -power at all. - - For somtyme we ben Goddis instrumentes God's - And menes to don his comaundementes, means - When that Him list, upon His creatures, He chooses - In divers acts and in divers figures. various - - - "Sometimes God uses us as instruments - And means, to work out His all-wise intents: - When on us this divine command He lays, - We serve in divers forms and divers ways." - -"But you needn't be in such a hurry," he says to the Summoner. "You'll -know more than you like perhaps before long." - - But oon thing warne I the, I wol not jape, one, jest - Thou wilt algates wite how we ben schape. always know - Thou schalt herafterward, my brother deere, - Com wher the nedith not of me to leere,[126] come, learn - For thou schalt by thin oughn experience own - Conne,[127] in a chayer, reden of this sentence be able, to - counsel, - meaning - Bet than Virgile[128] when he was on lyve, better, alive - Or Daunt also. Now let us ryde blyve, quickly - For I wol holde companye with the - Til it be so that thou forsake me. - - - "But of one thing I warn thee, not in play, - That thou shalt know what we are like, some day. - Thou shalt hereafter come, my brother dear, - Whither thou wilt not need of me to hear; - For thou shalt learned be--nay, specially wise - By self-experience--in these mysteries: - Wiser than Virgil ere from earth he past, - Or Dante either. Let us now ride fast, - For I will keep companionship with thee - Till thou desirest to depart from me." - -A pleasant prospect! However, the Summoner was quite content, so long as -the silver and gold were shared with him. He declares he will never -forsake his sworn brother, though he be a fiend, and promises to share all -his own goods with the evil one! adding-- - - Tak thou thi part, and that men wil the yyven, thee, give - And I schal myn, thus may we bothe lyven; mine, live - And if that eny of us have more than other, either - Let him be trewe, and part it with his brother. - I graunte, quod the devel, by my fay. - And with that word thay riden forth hir way. ride - - - "Take thou thy part, whatever men will give, - And I will do the same, so both shall live; - And if the one get more than doth the other, - Let him be true and share it with his brother." - "I grant it," said the devil, "by my fay." - With that, they rode together on their way. - -As they proceeded they saw right at the town's end a cart laden with hay. -The road was heavy with mud, so that the cart stuck. The carter smote his -horses, and cried like mad, "Hait! go on![129] The fiend take you--what a -labour I have with you. The fiend have it all, cart, horse, and hay!" - -The Summoner, hearing this, remembered he was to have half of all the evil -one's goods, and whispered to him, "Don't you hear what the carter says? -Take it all quick--he has given it you--hay, and cart, and the three -horses!" - -"Nay," said the evil one, "he does not _mean_ what he says. He is only in -a passion. Ask him yourself, or else wait and see what comes next." - -The carter whacked his horses, and they began to stoop and pull the cart -out, and then he said, "Hait! bless you--good Dobbins--well pulled, my own -grey boy! Now is my cart out of the mud." - -"There, brother, what did I tell you?" says the fiend. "Now, you see the -churl said one thing, but he thought another. Let us go on; I shall get -nothing here." - -With that they went a little way outside the town. The Summoner began to -whisper to his companion, "Here there lives an old beldame who would -almost as soon lose her head as give up a penny of her goods. But I mean -to have twelve pence[130] out of her, though she should go mad; or else -I'll haul her up before the court. And yet, all the same, I know no harm -of her. But if you want a lesson how to extort your gains in your country, -you may take example of me!" - -The Summoner goes and raps at the old widow's gate. "Come out, you old -crone. I dare say you are in mischief there!" he cried. - -"Who knocks?" said the old woman. "God save you, sir. What is your will?" - -"I've a bill of summons against you. On pain of cursing, see that you are -to-morrow before the archdeacon, to answer to the court." - -"God help me," says the poor old woman, in great distress. "I have been -ill a long time, and cannot walk so far, and to ride[131] would kill me, -my side pricks so. May I not ask for a libel,[132] and answer there by my -procurator whatever there is against me?" - -"Yes," says the Summoner, "pay me--let's see--twelve pence, and I will let -you off. I shall not get much profit out of that. My master gets it, and -not I. Make haste and give me twelve pence--I can't wait." - -"Twelve pence!" said the poor widow. "Now, heaven help me out of this. I -have not so much as twelve pence in the whole wide world. You know that I -am old and poor. Rather give me alms." - -"Nay, then," cries the hard-hearted Summoner, "I will not let you off, -even if you die of it." - -"Alas!" says she, "I am not guilty." - -"Pay me!" cried he, "or I will carry off your new pan besides, which you -owe me, for when you were summoned to the court before, I paid for your -punishment!" - -"You lie," cried the poor old woman. "I was never summoned before to that -court in all my life; and I have done no wrong. May the evil one catch you -for your wickedness, and carry you away, and my pan too!" - -And when the fiend heard her curse the Summoner on her knees, he came -forward and said, "Now, good mother, are you in earnest when you say -that?" - -"May the devil fetch him, pan and all, before he dies, if he doesn't -repent!" - -"Repent!" cries the wicked Summoner, "I don't mean to repent anything I -do, I can tell you. I wish I had everything you possess besides--even -every rag you have on!" - -"Now, brother," says the evil one, "don't be angry; for you and this pan -are mine by right. This very night you shall go with me to hell, and you -will soon know more about our mysteries than a master of divinity!" - - And with that word the foule fend him hente; caught - Body and soule, he with the devyl wente, - Wher as the Sompnours han her heritage; their - And God, that maked after His ymage made - Mankynde, save and gyde us alle and some, - And leene this Sompnour good man to bycome. grant - - - With that the foul fiend took him for his own, - Body and soul he's with the devil gone, - Whither these Summoners have their heritage - And God, who did create in His image - Mankind, protect and guide us all our days, - And lead this Summoner here to mend his ways. - -Lordings, I could have told you, if I had time, all the pains and -punishments which came to this wicked Summoner in hell. But let us all -pray to be kept from the tempter's power. The lion lies in wait always to -slay the innocent, if he can. Dispose your hearts ever to withstand the -evil fiend who longs to make you his slaves! He will not tempt you above -what you can bear, for Christ will be your champion and your knight.[133] -And pray that this Summoner with us, may repent of his misdeeds before the -devil carries him away. - - -Notes by the Way. - -Legends of the kind told by the Friar were very popular in the mediaeval -times, believed in by some as they were laughed at by others. Mr. Wright -conjectures that this tale was translated from some old fabliau. The Friar -evidently counted on the unpopularity of this class of men, the Summoners, -when he held his fellow-traveller up to general ignominy in this way. It -seems a breach of civility and fair-play to modern minds, but the -Summoners were in reality hated universally for their extortion or for -their secret power among the people. As you have seen, the host begins by -calling for justice, but the popular feeling was but too clearly on the -Friar's side from the first, and mine host shares it. (_Vide_ notes, pp. -31, 57.) - -This Tale would appear by no means to discourage swearing; but mark the -distinction drawn between a hearty, deliberate malediction, and the rapid -unmeaning oath which sowed the common talk. The lesson was probably the -more forcible through the absence of any hypercritical censure of 'strong -language'--censure which would have been vain indeed, in an age when -common oaths were thought as much less of, as positive cursing was more -of, than in the present day. - -The rough moral deduced was admirably suited to the coarse and ignorant -minds of the lower orders. - - - - -The Clerk's Tale. - - - This Sompnour in his styrop up he stood, - Upon the Frere his herte was so wood mad - That lyk an aspen leef he quok for ire. quaked - Lordyngs, quod he, but oon thing I desire; - I yow biseke that of your curtesye, - Syn ye han herd this false Frere lye, - As suffrith me, I may my tale telle. pray suffer - This Frere bosteth that he knowith helle, - And God it wot, that is but litel wonder,[134] - Freres and feendes been but litel asonder.[135] - - Sir Clerk of Oxenford, our hoste sayde, Oxford - Ye ryde as stille and coy as doth a mayde[136] - Were newe spoused, syttyng at the bord;[137] - This day ne herde I of your mouth a word. - I trow ye study aboute som sophyme. sophism - But Salomon saith, everythyng hath tyme. - For Goddis sake as beth of better cheere, be - It is no tyme for to stodye hiere. study - - - Up in his stirrups did the Summoner start, - For with this Friar such rage was in his heart, - That like an aspen-leaf he shook for ire. - "Lordings," cried he, "but one thing I desire, - And I beseech you of your courtesy, - Since you have heard this falsest Friar lie, - Suffer me, pray, my story now to tell. - This Friar boasts of how he knoweth hell; - Heav'n knows, that if he does it is no wonder, - For fiends and Friars are not far asunder." - - "Sir Clerk of Oxford," then our landlord said - "You ride as shy and quiet as a maid - Newly espous'd, who sits beside the board; - All day we have not had from you a word. - I guess, some subtle lore you're studying. - But Solomon says there's time for everything. - Prithee, rouse up, and be of better cheer, - It is no time for your deep studies here. - -"Do not give us a sermon, or something so learned that we cannot -understand it. - - Spekith so playn at this tyme, we yow praye, - That we may understonde that ye saye. - - - "Speak to us very plainly, now, we pray, - That we may understand the whole you say." - -This worthy Clerk answered pleasantly, "Host, I am under your orders, so I -will obey you, and tell you a tale which I learned at Padua, of a worthy -clerk, who has been proved by his words and work. - - He is now deed and nayled in his chest, coffin - Now God yive his soule wel good rest! give - Fraunces Petrark,[138] the laureat poete, - Highte this clerk, whos rethorique swete was named - Enlumynd al Ytail of poetrie, Italy - As Linian[139] did of philosophie, - Or lawue, or other art particulere; law - But deth, that wol not suffre us duellen here, - But as it were a twyncling of an ye, eye - Hem bothe hath slayn, and alle schul we dye. - - - "Now he is dead, and nailed in his chest, - I pray to God to give his spirit rest! - Francis Petrarch, the poet laureate, - This clerk was call'd, whose rhetoric sweet did late - Illume all Italy with poetry, - As Linian did with his philosophy, - And law, and other noble arts as well; - But death, that will not suffer us here to dwell, - But, as it were, a twinkling of an eye, - Hath slain them both, and we, too, all shall die." - - -PART I. - -To the west of Italy there is a territory called Saluces,[140] which once -belonged to a marquis very much beloved by all his people. They all obeyed -and respected him, both lords and commoners, and he was very happy. - -Besides, he was the noblest born of any one in Lombardy--handsome, and -strong, and young--courteous to all, and discreet enough, except in some -things where he was not quite perfect! and his name was Walter. - -The worst fault of him was the careless sort of life he led. He did -nothing but hunt, and hawk, and amuse himself, instead of attending to -more serious duties. This made his people very sorry, and they thought if -Walter had a wife he would get more steady, and not waste his time so -sadly. - -One day all his people went in a great crowd to see him; and the wisest -one among them said--"O noble marquis, your goodness gives us courage to -come to you and tell you what we want. Do not be angry, but deign to -listen to us, for we all love you. The only thing needed to make us quite -happy is for you to marry. We pray you, then, to let us find you a nice -wife, and we will choose the noblest and best in the land." - -Walter listened, and then answered--"My dear people, you know I am very -comfortable as I am, and enjoy my liberty: I don't want a wife. But if it -makes you any happier, I will try and get one as soon as I can. As for -choosing me one, pray don't take so much trouble. I would much rather do -that for myself. Only remember that when I am married, you must always -show the greatest honour and respect to whoever she may be. For since I -consent to give up my freedom to please you, you must not find fault with -any one whom I choose." - -All the people promised they would be quite content with any wife he -liked, for they were so much afraid he would not marry at all if they -didn't. - -Then, to make quite sure, they begged him to fix exactly the day when the -wedding should take place, and he did so, promising to get everything -ready, according to their request. And the people thanked him on their -knees and went away. - - -PART II. - -Now, near the marquis's palace, there was a village in which dwelt a poor -man--poorer than the poorest of his neighbours. His name was Janicula, and -he had a young daughter who was fair enough to see, called Griselda. - -But, in beauty of mind, Griselda was the fairest maiden under the sun. She -had been brought up very humbly, and more often drank water than wine, and -she worked so hard that she was never idle. - - But though this mayden tender were of age, - Yet in the brest of her virginite breast, girlhood - Ther was enclosed rype and sad corrage;[141] mature, serious - And in gret reverence and charite love - Hir olde pore fader fostered sche; - A fewe scheep spynnyng on the feld sche kepte, field - Sche nolde not ben ydel til sche slepte. would not be - - And when sche hom-ward com, sche wolde brynge came, bring - Wortis or other herbis tymes ofte, worts - The which sche schred and seth for her lyvynge, chop, boil, - living - And made hir bed ful hard, and nothing softe. - And ay sche kept hir fadres lif on lofte ever, supported - With every obeissance and diligence, - That child may do to fadres reverence. father's - - - But though this maiden was as yet so young, - Under her girlish innocence there lay - A brave and serious spirit, ever strong; - And with good heart she laboured day by day - To tend and help her father, poor and grey. - Some sheep while spinning in the fields she kept, - For never was she idle till she slept. - - And she would often, as she homeward sped, - Bring with her herbs and cresses gathered there, - Which for a meal she fain would seethe and shred. - Hard was her bed and frugal was her fare, - Keeping her father with untiring care, - And all obedience, and all diligence - That child can give to filial reverence. - -On this poor hard-working Griselda, the marquis Walter had often cast his -eyes when he happened to pass her while hunting. And when he looked at her -it was with no foolish thoughts, but with serious admiration for her -virtue. He had never seen any one so young who was so good, and he made up -his mind if ever he married anybody he would marry her. - -So, after the people's visit, according to his promise to them, Walter -began to prepare beautiful dresses and jewels, brooches and rings of -gold, and everything proper for a great lady. And the wedding-day arrived, -but no one had seen any bride, or could think where she was to come from! - -At last all the feast was ready, all the palace beautifully adorned, -upstairs and downstairs--hall and chambers. The noble guests arrived who -were bidden to the wedding--lords and ladies richly arrayed--and still -there was no bride! - -The marquis made them all follow him into the village, to the sound of -music. - -Now, Griselda, who knew nothing of all this, went that morning to fetch -water from the well; and she heard say that this was to be the marquis's -wedding-day. - -So she hastened home, and thought to herself she would get through her -work as fast as she could, and try to see something of the sight. - -"I will stand with the other girls at the door," she said to herself -innocently, "and I shall see the new marchioness, if she passes by this -way to the castle." - -Just as she crossed the door, the marquis came up, and called her. - -Griselda set down her water-cans beside the door in an ox's stall,[142] -and, dropping on her knees,[143] waited for the great lord to speak. - -The marquis said gravely, "Where is thy father, Griselda?" and Griselda -answered humbly, "He is all ready here," and hurried in to fetch him. - -Then the marquis took the poor man by the hand, saying, "Janicula, I shall -no longer hide the wish of my heart. If you will consent, I will take your -daughter for my wife before I leave this house. I know you love me, and -are my faithful liegeman. Tell me, then, whether you will have me for your -son-in-law." - -This sudden offer so astonished the poor man that he grew all red, and -abashed, and trembling. He could say nothing but--"My lord, it is not for -me to gainsay your lordship. Whatever my lord wishes." - - Yit wol I, quod this markys softely, yet - That in thy chambre, I and thou and sche - Have a collacioun, and wostow why? meeting, knowest - thou - For I wol aske if that it hir wille be - To be my wyf, and reule hir after me; according to - And al this schal be doon in thy presence, done - I wol nought speke out of thyn audience. hearing - - - "Yet," said the marquis, softly, "fain would I - That in thy chamber I and thou and she - Confer together--dost thou wonder why? - For I would ask her whether she will be - My wife--and rule herself to pleasure me; - And in thy presence all things shall be said: - Behind thy back no contract shall be made." - -And while the three were talking in the chamber all the people came into -the house without,[144] and wondered among themselves how carefully and -kindly she kept her father. But poor Griselda, who had never seen such a -sight before, looked quite pale. She was not used to such grand -visitors. - -[Illustration: GRISELDA'S MARRIAGE - - 'This is ynough, Grisilde myn, quod he.'] - -This is what the marquis said to her. - -"Griselda, it pleases your father and me that I should marry you, and I -suppose you will not be unwilling.[145] But first I must ask you, since it -is to be done in such a hurry, will you say yes now, or will you think it -over? Are you ready to obey me in all things when you are my wife, whether -I am kind to you or not? and never to say no when I say yes--either by -word or by frowns? Swear that, and I will swear to marry you." - -Wondering at all this, and trembling with fear, Griselda answered-- - -"My lord, I am quite unworthy of the great honour you offer me; but -whatever my lord wishes I will consent to. And I will swear never, so far -as I know, to disobey you--not even if you wish to kill me, though I don't -want to die." - -"That is enough, my Griselda," said Walter, and he went gravely out at the -door, and showed her to the people. "This is my wife, who stands here," he -said: "honour and love her, whoever loves me." - -Then, so that she might not enter his castle in her poor gown, he bade all -the gentlewomen robe her at once in beautiful clothes; and though these -smart ladies did not much like touching the old clothes she had on, still -they stript them all off her, and clad her all new and splendidly, from -head to foot. - -Then they combed and dressed her hair, which was quite loose and -disarranged, and with their delicate fingers they placed a crown on her -head, and covered her with jewels, great and small. They hardly knew her, -so beautiful she looked when she was thus richly attired. - -The marquis put a ring on her finger, which he had brought on purpose, and -set her on a snow-white horse; and she was conducted, with great -rejoicings, to the palace, where the day was spent in feasting and -merriment till the sun set.[146] - -In short, heaven so favoured the new marchioness, that in a little time -you would never have guessed she was of so humble birth; she might have -been brought up in an emperor's hall, and not in a hut with oxen. The -people who had known her from her childhood could hardly believe she was -Janicle's daughter, she was so changed for the better. - -Moreover, her virtue and gentle dignity made her beloved by everybody, so -that her fame was spread throughout all the country, and people even took -long journeys to come and look upon her. - -Walter had not a fault to find with her. She made him happy by her -excellence and her wifely homeliness, just as she made the people happy by -her kindness and cleverness in redressing their wrongs. - - -PART III. - -Griselda had a little girl at last, which was a great joy to them both, -and to all the people. But Walter had a great longing to put his wife to -the test--to see whether she was really as meek and patient and submissive -as she seemed. - -I know not why he wanted to do this, for he had often tried her in little -ways before, and had found her perfect; and for my part I think it is a -cruel deed to grieve and torment a wife who does not deserve it, for the -sake of needless proof. - -However, Walter did as follows. One night, while the baby was still very -young, he came to her, looking stern and troubled; she was all alone, and -he said, "Griselda, you have not forgotten the day when I took you out of -your poor home. Well, although you are very dear to me, to my people you -are not dear; they feel it a great shame to be the subjects of one who -came of such mean rank. And since thy daughter was born they have murmured -so greatly that I cannot disregard them, so I must do with the baby as the -people choose, if I want to live in peace with them all. Yet what I must -do is much against my will, and I will not do it without your consent; but -I pray you to show me now how patient you can be, even as you swore to be, -on our marriage day." - -When Griselda heard this she did not know that it was all untrue, and she -said calmly, "My lord, all shall be as you will. My child and I, we are -both yours, living or dying. Do as you choose. For my part, there is -nothing I fear to lose, but _you_." - -The marquis was overjoyed to hear that, but he concealed his pleasure, and -kept a very stern and sad face, and presently departed. - -He went to a man, to whom he gave certain directions how to act; then he -sent the man to Griselda. - -This man was a sergeant,[147] the trusted servant of the marquis, and he -stalked into Griselda's chamber. "Madam," he said, "you must forgive me if -I do what I am compelled to by my lord. This child I am ordered to take -away," and the man made as though he would kill it at once. - - Suspecious was the defame of this man, ill-fame - Suspect his face, suspect his word also, - Suspect the tyme in which he this bigan. - Allas! hir doughter, that she lovede so, - Sche wende he wold han slayen it right tho; believed, then - But natheles sche neyther weep ne sikede, nevertheless, - sighed - Conformyng hir to that the marquis likede. - - But atte laste speke sche bigan, to speak - And mekely sche to the sergeant preyde, - So as he was a worthy gentil man, - That she moste kisse hir child er that it deyde. might - And in hir barm[148] this litel child sche leyde, lap - With ful sad face, and gan the child to blesse, - And lullyd it, and after gan it kesse. began, kiss - - - Suspicious of repute was this stern man, - Suspicious in his look, and speech also, - So was the time when he the deed began. - Alas! her baby, that she loved so, - Would he destroy it ere he turned to go?-- - And yet she did not weep, she was resign'd - To all the wishes of her master's mind. - - To say a few meek words she then began, - And for one boon she pitifully pray'd, - That as he was a kind and worthy man - She might but kiss her baby ere it died. - And in her lap the little child she laid, - With mournful face, and did the baby bless, - And lull'd it with how many a soft caress! - -And then she said, in her gentle voice, "Farewell, my child; I shall never -see thee again; but since I have marked thee with the cross, may He who -died for us all bless thee! To him, little child, I give thy soul, for -this night thou shalt die for my sake." - -Truly, even to a nurse, this would have been hard to bear, but to a mother -how far more grievous! Still she was so firm and brave that she soon gave -up the baby to the sergeant, saying, "Take the little, tiny maid, and go, -do my lord's command. But one thing I pray you, that when it is dead you -will bury the little body in some place where birds and beasts will not -mangle it." - -The sergeant would not promise her even that, but carried the child off -with him.[149] - -He took the babe to the marquis, and told him exactly all that Griselda -had said. The marquis certainly showed some little feeling and regret; yet -he kept to his purpose, as men will when they are determined. He then bade -the sergeant wrap up the child softly and tenderly, and carry it in -secret, in a box or the skirt of a garment, to Bologna, where dwelt his -sister, Countess of Panik.[150] She would foster it kindly; but whom the -child belonged to was to be kept from all men's knowledge. - -The sergeant did as he was commanded, and the marquis watched his wife to -see if there should be any rebellion in her manner. But she did not -change. She was always kind, and loving, and serious, and as busy and -humble as ever. Not a word she spoke of the poor baby. - - -PART IV. - -A few years afterwards, Griselda had another child--a little boy. This was -still more joy to the people and to Walter than the other baby, because it -was the heir. - -When the babe was two years old, the marquis took it into his head to -tempt again his poor wife. Ah! how needless to torture her! but married -men care for no limits when they find a patient wife! - -"Wife," said the marquis, "I have told you how discontented are the people -with our marriage; and since the boy's birth their anger has been greater. -Their murmuring destroys all my comfort and courage. They grumble, because -when I am dead the blood of Janicle shall succeed to my heritage; and I -cannot disregard the words they say! So I think I will serve him as I -served his sister; but do not suddenly fly out with grief. Be patient, I -beg of you, and command your feelings." - -Griselda answered, sadly and calmly, when she heard this-- - - I have, quod sche, sayd thus, and ever schal, - I wol no thing, ne nil no thing certayn, will not - But as yow list: nought greveth me at al, please - Though that my doughter and my sone be slayn - At your comaundement: this is to sayn, say - I have not had no part of children twayne, - But first syknes, and after wo and payne. sickness - - Ye ben oure lord: doth with your owne thing be, master - Right as yow list: axith no red of me; ask, advice - For as I left at hom al my clothing - Whan I first com to yow, right so, quod sche, - Left I my wille and al my liberte, - And took your clothing; wherfor, I yow preye you - Doth your plesaunce, I wil youre lust obeye. desire - - - "I have," quoth she, "said this, and ever shall, - I wish not, nor will wish, it is certain, - But as you choose: I grieve me not at all, - Although my daughter and my son be slain - At your commandment: nor will I complain - That I have had no part in children twain, - But sickness first, and then a bitterer pain. - - "Thou art our lord: do, then, with what is thine - E'en as thou wilt: ask not assent of me;-- - For as I left at home all that was mine - When I came first to thee, right so," quoth she, - "Left I my will and all my liberty, - And took new habits: wherefore, now, I pray - Do but thy pleasure, and I will obey." - -"If I knew beforehand what your wish was," said poor Griselda, "I would do -it without delay; but now that I know your will, I am ready to die if you -desire it; for death is nothing compared with your love!" - -When the marquis heard that, he cast down his eyes, and wondered how she -could endure it all; and he went forth looking very dreary, but in reality -he felt extremely pleased. - -The ugly sergeant came again, and took away the little boy: Griselda -kissed it and blessed it, only asking that his little limbs might be kept -from the wild beasts and birds; but the sergeant promised nothing, and -secretly took him with great care to Bologna. - -The marquis was amazed at her patience; for he knew that, next to himself, -she loved her children best of anything in the world. What could he do -more to prove her steadfastness, and faithfulness, and patience? But there -are some people who, when they have once taken a thing into their head, -will stick to it as if they were bound to a stake. So this marquis made up -his mind to try his wife still further. - -He watched her closely, but never could he find any change in her: the -older she grew, the more faithful and industrious she was. Whatever he -liked, she liked: there seemed but one will between them; and, God be -thanked, all was for the best. - -But all this time the slander against Walter spread far and near; and the -people said he had wickedly murdered both his children, because his wife -was a poor woman. For the people had no idea what had really become of -them. And they began to hate Walter instead of loving him, as they had -once done; for a murderer is a hateful name. - -Still the marquis was so determined to test his wife, that he cared for -nothing else. - -When Griselda's daughter was twelve years old, Walter sent secretly to -Rome, commanding that false letters, seeming to come from the Pope, should -be made according to his will. These letters, or 'bulls,' were to give him -leave to quit his first wife, for the sake of his people, and marry -another woman; but they were none of them really from the Pope: they were -all counterfeit and false, made by Walter's order, to deceive Griselda. - -The common people did not know the difference between true letters and -false; but when the tidings arrived, Griselda was very sorrowful; for she -loved Walter best of all things, as he very well knew. - - I deeme that hir herte was ful wo;[151] judge, sad - But sche, ylike sad for evermo, alike, firm - Disposid was, this humble creature, disposed - Th'adversite of fortun al tendure. fortune, to - endure - - - Full sure am I her heart was full of wo; - But she, as though serene for evermo, - Was ready, in her humbleness of mind, - In all adversity to be resign'd. - -[Illustration: GRISELDA'S SORROW. - - 'And as a lamb sche sitteth meeke and stille, - And let this cruel sergeant doon his wille.'] - -Then the marquis sent to the Earl of Panik, who had married his sister, -begging him to bring both his children home, openly and in great honour; -but no one was to know whose children they were. He was to answer no -questions-- - - But saye the mayde schuld i-wedded be[152] should - Unto the Markys of Saluce anoon. immediately - And as this eorl was prayd, so dede he; did - For at day set he on his way is goon gone - Toward Saluce, and lordes many oon, many a one - In riche array, this mayden for to guyde, - Hir yonge brother rydyng by hir syde. - - Arrayed was toward hir mariage - This freisshe may, al ful of gemmes clere; maiden, gems - Hir brother, which that seven yer was of age, - Arrayed eek ful freissh in his manere; also, manner - And thus in gret noblesse and with glad chere, nobleness - Toward Saluces shaping her journay, their - Fro day to day thay ryden in her way. their - - - But say the maiden should, ere long, be wed - Unto the Marquis of Saluce so high. - And as this earl was pray'd to do, he did, - And started on his journey speedily - Towards Saluces, with lordly company - In rich array, this maiden fair to guide, - Her little brother riding by her side. - - And this fresh maid was robed for marriage - Full of clear gems, in goodly raiment rare; - Her brother, who was seven years of age, - Was in his fashion clad all fresh and fair; - And thus, in splendour, and with joyous air, - Towards Saluces following the way, - The cavalcade advances day by day. - - -PART V. - -In order to put the last trial upon Griselda, to the uttermost proof of -her courage, the marquis one day, before all the household, said to her in -a boisterous way-- - - Certes, Grisildes, I had y-nough plesaunce certainly, - pleasure - To have yow to my wif, for your goodnesse - And for youre trouthe, and for your obeissaunce; truth, obedience - Nought for your lignage, ne for your richesse; lineage, wealth - But now know I in verray sothfastnesse truth - That in gret lordschip, if I wel avyse, am not mistaken - Ther is gret servitude in sondry wyse. sundry wise - - I may not do, as every ploughman may; - My poeple me constreignith for to take constrain - Another wyf, and crien day by day; - And eek the Pope, rancour for to slake, - Consentith it, that dar I undertake; dare - And trewely, thus moche I wol yow saye, much - My newe wif is comyng by the waye. - - Be strong of hert, and voyde anoon hir place, heart - And thilke dower that ye broughten me that - Tak it agayn, I graunt it of my grace. - Retourneth to your fadres hous, quod he, return - No man may alway have prosperite, - With even hert I rede yow endure advise - The strok of fortune or of adventure. chance - - And sche agayn answerd in pacience: - My lord, quod sche, I wot, and wist alway, - How that bitwixe your magnificence - And my poverte, no wight can ne may nobody - Make comparisoun, it is no nay; - I ne held me neuer digne in no manere worthy, manner - To ben your wif, ne yit your chamberere. chambermaid - - And in this hous, ther ye me lady made, - (The highe God take I for my witnesse, - And al-so wisly he my soule glade) cheer - I never huld me lady ne maistresse, - But humble servaunt to your worthinesse, - And ever schal, whil that my lyf may dure, life - Aboven every worldly creature. above - - That ye so longe of your benignite benignity - Han holden me in honour and nobleye, nobleness - Wher as I was not worthy for to be, where - That thonk I God and yow, to whom I preye thank - For-yeld it yow, ther is no more to seye. repay - Unto my fader gladly wil I wende, go - And with him duelle unto my lyves ende. - - Ther I was fostred as a child ful smal, - Til I be deed my lyf ther wil I lede, - A widow clene in body, hert, and al: clean - For sith I yaf to yow my maydenhede, since, maidenhood - And am your trewe wyf, it is no drede, - God schilde such a lordes wyf to take shield (forbid) - Another man to housbond or to make. for, for mate - - And of your newe wif, God of his grace - So graunte yow wele and prosperite, - For I wol gladly yelden hir my place, yield - In which that I was blisful wont to be. - For sith it liketh yow, my lord, quod sche, - That whilom were al myn hertes reste, once - That I schal gon, I wol go whan yow leste. please - - But ther as ye profre me such dowayre proffer - As I ferst brought, it is wel in my mynde, - It were my wrecchid clothes, no thing faire, wretched - The whiche to me were hard now for to fynde. - O goode God! how gentil and how kynde - Ye semede by your speche and your visage, speech - That day that maked was our mariage! made - - - "Tis true, Griselda, I was once content - To marry you--because you were so good, - And true, and faithful, and obedient-- - Not for your wealth, nor for your noble blood; - Still one thing must be clearly understood, - That in this rank and riches men so praise - There is great servitude in many ways. - - "I may not do as every ploughman may: - My people urge me evermore to take - Another wife, and clamour day by day. - And now the Pope, their rancour swift to slake, - Gives glad consent to any change I make; - And more than that--I need not fear to say-- - My new wife is already on her way. - - Make way for her, be brave, give up her place, - And, see, the dowry that you brought to me - I will restore--I grant it of my grace. - Go back unto your father's house," quoth he, - "No one can always have prosperity. - With equal spirit suffer weal or woe, - The gifts of chance or luck that come and go." - - And she replied, with perfect patience: - "My lord, I know, and knew alway," quoth she, - "Too well, that 'tween your own magnificence - And my great poverty, there cannot be - Comparison at all, and verily - I held myself unworthy every way - To be your wife--or servant--for a day. - - "And in this house wherein ye made me great - (High God my witness, who shall haply set - Some coming comfort in my altered state), - Lady nor mistress never was I yet; - But humble servant to the grace I get: - This I shall be, with spirit ever strong, - More than all others, yea, my whole life long. - - "And for your charity in keeping me - In dignity and honour day by day - So many years, unworthy though I be, - Now thank I God and you, to whom I pray - That He will all your graciousness repay. - Unto my father cheerfully I wend - To dwell with him from now to my life's end. - - "There I was fostered as an infant small, - There till I die my life I will lead through, - Dwell as an honest widow, heart and all. - For since I gave my girlhood unto you, - And am your wife, most loving and most true, - It were not fitting that a great lord's wife - Should wed another husband all her life. - - "And with your wife to be, God of his grace - Grant you all welfare and prosperity; - For I will yield her cheerfully my place, - In which I once so happy used to be; - For since it pleaseth you, my lord," quoth she, - "Who ever were the dearest to my heart, - That I should go, content I will depart. - - "But when you bid me take again that dower - That I first brought, it still is in my mind: - It was my wretched clothing, coarse and poor-- - Rags that it were not easy now to find. - And, O good God! how gentle and how kind - You then seemed, by your words and by your look, - That day whereon the name of wife I took!" - -Griselda said no word of reproach to her cruel husband, except one -touching remark, which he may have felt as one-- - -"Love is not old as when that it is new." (Love is not the same in after -years as when it first comes.) - -Then she appeals to him in a way that must have touched a heart of stone, -for she saw no sign of relenting in his face: she does not know how far -his brutality will go, and will not be surprised at the last insult. - - My lord, ye wot that in my fadres place - Ye dede me strippe out of my pore wede, strip, attire - And richely me cladden of your grace; - To yow brought I nought elles, out of drede, else - But faith, and nakednesse, and maydenhede; maidenhood - And her agayn my clothyng I restore, - And eek my weddyng ryng for evermore. - - The remenant of your jewels redy be remainder - Within your chambur, dar I saufly sayn. dare - Naked out of my fadres hous, quod sche, - I com, and naked moot I torne agayn. return - Al your pleisauns wold I folwen fayn;[153] follow gladly - But yit I hope it be not youre entente, intention - That I smocles out of your paleys wente. smockless, palace - - - "My lord, you know that in my father's place - You stript me of my poor attire, for ruth: - Anew you richly clad me, of your grace. - And I brought nothing unto you, in truth, - But honesty, and poverty, and youth. - And here again your clothing I restore, - And ev'n your wedding-ring for evermore. - - "The remnant of your jewels ready be - Within your chamber, I can safely say. - With nothing from my father's house," quoth she, - "I came, with nothing I shall go away. - In all things as you bid I will obey; - But yet I hope you will not let me go - Quite as bereft as when I came to you." - -A faint sparkle of human spirit comes into her entreaty--"Ye could not do -so dishonest (shameful) a thing:"-- - - Remembre yow, myn oughne lord so deere, own - I was your wyf, though I unworthy were. - - Wherfor, in guerdoun of my maydenhede, girlhood - Which that I brought, and not agayn I bere, carry away - As vouchethsauf as yeve me to my meede vouchsafe, reward - But such a smok as I was wont to were. smock, wear - - - "Remember yet, my lord and husband dear, - I was your wife, though I unworthy were! - - "Thus, in requital of the youth I brought, - But never can take back, nor have it more, - Give me, I pray, a garment of such sort - As in those days of poverty I wore." - -Walter accepts this humble claim; mark the calm dignity with which she -refrains from giving way before her 'folk.' - - The smok,[154] quod he, that thou hast on thy bak, smock - Let it be stille, and ber it forth with the. - But wel unnethes thilke word he spak, scarcely, this - But went his way for routhe and for pite. compassion - Byforn the folk hirselven strippith sche, herself - And in hir smok, with heed and foot al bare, head and feet - Toward hir fader house forth is she fare. went - - The folk hir folwen wepyng in hir weye, follow her - And fortune ay thay cursen as thay goon; curse - But she fro wepyng kept hir eyen dreye, dry - Ne in this tyme word ne spak sche noon. none - Hir fader, that this tyding herd anoon, - Cursede the day and tyme that nature - Schoop him to ben a lyves creaeture. formed, living - - For oute of doute this olde pore man - Was ever in suspect of hir mariage; suspicion - For ever he deemede, sith that it bigan, believed - That whan the lord fulfilled had his corrage, impulse - Him wolde thinke that it were disparage disparagement - To his estate, so lowe for to lighte, - And voyden hire as sone as ever he mighte. put her away - - Agayns his doughter hastily goth he goeth - (For he by noyse of folk knew hir comyng), - And with hir olde cote, as it might be, coat - He covered hir, ful sorwfully wepynge, sorrowfully - But on hir body might he it nought bringe, - For rude was the cloth, and mor of age, coarse, more - By dayes fele than at hir mariage. many (_viel_) - - Thus with hir fader for a certeyn space - Dwellith this flour of wifly pacience, flower - That neyther by hir wordes, ne by hir face, - Byforn the folk nor eek in her absence, also, their - Ne schewed sche that hir was doon offence; showed, done - Ne of hir highe astaat no remembraunce nor, estate - Ne hadde she, as by hir countenaunce. - - - "The shift," he said, "thou hast upon thy back, - Let it remain, and bear it forth with thee." - But scarcely that hard word for pain he spake, - And went his way for sorrow and pity. - Before the household all her robes stript she; - And in her shift, barefoot and bare of head, - Toward her father's house forth is she sped. - - The household follow, tears in every eye, - Bewailing her ill-fortune as they go; - But she from weeping kept her own eyes dry, - Nor spake a word to those who murmur'd so. - Her father heard the news awhile ago, - And sore laments the day that he was born, - To be a thing so helpless and forlorn. - - For ever without doubt the poor old man - Distrusted heartily her altered rank; - Believing inly since it first began, - That when my lord had wearied of his prank, - He would conceive it far beneath his rank - To have a low-born wife, however good, - And rid himself of her whene'er he could. - - Unto his daughter hastily he goes, - (For by the noise of crowds he knew her nigh), - And her old garb about her form he throws, - And covers her, with tears and many a sigh, - But could not draw it round her properly, - For coarse and shrunk the cloth was--worse for age - By many days, than at her marriage. - - Thus with her father for a certain space - Did dwell this flower of wifely patience; - And neither by her speech nor by her face, - Before the folk, nor e'en in their absence, - Seem'd she to feel that she endured offence. - As far as any living soul could see - She had of her past state no memory. - -And after all it was scarce any wonder. For in her days of wealth her -spirit had always been humble and meek. No dainty fare, no foolish pomp or -luxury, no semblance of splendid rank, had she allowed herself; but, ever -wise and humble and firm, when reverses came she was ready to bear them. - -Men speak of Job's patience; but, though some praise women little enough, -no man can be as patient as a woman can--no man be faithful as a woman -can. - - -PART VI. - -At last the Earl of Panik arrived, whose fame had been spreading among -great and small. The people had all found out that he was bringing them a -new marchioness, in such pomp and state, that never before had a like -splendour been seen throughout West Lombardy. - -The marquis, who had arranged all these things, sent for this poor -innocent Griselda; and she came with humble mind and joyful face, and no -proud notions in her heart, and knelt before him and asked his will. - -"Griselda," he said, "my will is that the maiden whom I am to marry be -received here as royally as it is possible in my house to be, and that -everybody, according to his degree, shall be made thoroughly welcome and -happy. I have no woman able to arrange my rooms fully to my liking, and -therefore I want you to take everything in hand. You know of old my ways -and my tastes; therefore, though your dress _is_ ragged and you look very -bad, you must do your duties to the very best of your power." - -Griselda answered, "Not only, lord, am I glad to do anything for you, but -I love you enough to work all my days to please you." - - And with that worde sche gan the hous to dighte, - And tables for to sette, and beddes make: - - - And with that word she 'gan the house to deck, - To set the tables and to make the beds: - -begging all the chambermaids to hasten and hurry and shake and sweep -smartly; and she, most serviceable of them all, got every chamber and the -great hall garnished and adorned. - - Abouten undern gan this lord alighte, forenoon - That with him broughte these noble children tweye; two - For which the peple ran to se that sighte - Of hir array, so richely biseye; rich to be seen - And than at erst amonges hem thay seye at first - That Walter was no fool, though that hem leste he pleased - To chaunge his wyf; for it was for the beste. - - For sche is fairer, as thay demen alle, deem - Than is Grisild, and more tendre of age. younger - - - Somewhat ere noonday did this earl alight, - Who with him brought the unknown children fair, - And all the people ran to see the sight - Of their array, resplendent as they were; - And soon the common thought was whispered there, - That Walter was no fool for being glad - To change his wife--a good exchange he had! - - For she is fairer, as they notice all, - Than is Griselda, tenderer of age. - -And the throngs of admiring serfs stood making their light remarks, -forgetful of the victim of it all, and her undeserved disgrace. They watch -the fair bride and the handsome boy beside her, and every moment the -marquis seems to get more popular. - - O stormy poeple, unsad and ever untrewe, unsteady - And undiscret and chaunging as a fane, indiscreet - Delytyng ever in rombel that is newe, noise - For lik the moone ay waxe ye and wane, - Ay ful of clappyng, dere ynough a jane,[155] chattering - Youre doom is fals, your constaunce yvil previth, judgment, ill - proveth - A ful gret fool is he that on yow leevith. believeth - - - O stormy people, light, and ever untrue, - And undiscerning--changing as a fane, - Delighting in new noise, because 'tis new, - How like the moon do ye, too, wax and wane! - Your empty praise, like worthless coin, is vain: - False is your judgment, frail your constancy, - Who trusts to you--a full great fool is he. - -That is what the graver people in the city said when the populace were -gazing up and down, glad for the novelty, to have a new lady in the -castle. - -Meanwhile Griselda was working busily at everything that was needed for -the feast. She was nothing abashed at her clothing, though it was rude and -coarse, and somewhat torn besides. She went to the gate with the rest to -salute the bride, and hurried back at once to her work. - -She received every one cheerfully, and in such a manner that no one had a -fault to find with her; but some of them wondered who this woman was, in -such shabby clothes, but who behaved with so much grace and propriety; and -many praised her diligence and wisdom. - -When all the great lords were about to sit down to supper, Walter called -to Griselda, who was working in the hall. - - Grisyld, quod he, as it were in his play, - How likith the my wif and hir beaute? do you like - Right wel, my lord, quod sche, for in good fay faith - A fairer saugh I never noon than sche. none - I pray to God yive hir prosperite; - And so hope I that he wol to yow sende - Plesaunce ynough unto your lyves ende. pleasantness - - On thing biseke I yow, and warne also,[156] beseech - That ye ne prike with no tormentynge prick - This tendre mayden, as ye han doon mo: more (others) - For she is fostrid in hir norischinge fostered, - nourishing - More tendrely, and to my supposyng: as I suppose - Sche couthe not adversite endure, - As couthe a pore fostrid creature. could, poorly - - And whan this Walter saugh hir pacience, - Hir glade cheer, and no malice at al, - And he so oft hadde doon to hir offence, - And sche ay sad, and constant as a wal, steady - Continuyng ever hir innocence overal: - This sturdy marquis gan his herte dresse direct - To rewen upon hir wyfly stedefastnesse. to pity - - This is ynough, Grisilde myn, quod he, - Be now no more agast, ne yvel apayed, afraid, - disappointed - I have thy faith and thy benignite, goodness - As wel as ever womman was, assayed essayed - In gret estate, and pourliche[157] arrayed. poorly - Now knowe I, dere wyf, thy stedefastnesse. - And hir in armes took and gan hir kesse. kiss - - And sche for wonder took of it no keepe, heed - Sche herde not what thing he to hir sayde, - Sche ferd as sche hadde stert out of a sleepe, fared, started - Til sche out of hir masidnesse abrayde. awoke - Grisild, quod he, by God that for us deyde, died - Thou art my wyf, non other I ne[158] have, - Ne never had, as God my soule save. - - This is thy[159] doughter, which thou hast supposed - To be my wif: that other faithfully - Shal be myn heir, as I have ay purposed. - Thow bar hem of thy body trewely. - At Boloyne have I kept hem prively. - Tak hem agayn, for now maistow not seye mayest thou - That thou hast lorn noon of thy children tweye. lost - - And folk, that other weyes han seyd of me, - I warn hem wel, that I have doon this deede done - For no malice, ne for no cruelte, - But for tassaye in thee thy wommanhede; to assay, - womanhood - And not to slen my children (God forbede!) forbid - But for to kepe hem prively and stille quietly - Til I thy purpos knewe, and al thy wille! - - - "Grisild," he said to her, as if in play, - "How seems my wife and her fair looks to thee?" - "Right well, my lord," said she, "for in good fay - I never saw a fairer bride than she; - I pray God give you both prosperity; - And so I hope that He will ever send - You happiness enough to your lives' end. - - "One thing I pray of you, and warn beside, - That you goad not with any torturing - This tender maid--like some you have sore tried - For she is nurtured in her upbringing - More tenderly--and such a gentle thing - Might haply not adversity endure - Like one whose nurture had been hard and poor." - - And when this Walter saw her patientness, - Her cheerful mien, and malice none at all; - Though he so oft had tried her more or less, - And she still firm and constant as a wall, - Continuing ever her innocence over all: - This sturdy marquis 'gan his heart to chide, - Touch'd by her steadfast faith that never died. - - "This is enough, Griselda mine," said he, - "Be no more ill at ease, and fear no more! - I have thy faith and strength and charity - Tempted, as woman never was before, - Both in thy wealth, and in thy rags so poor. - Now do I know, dear wife, thy steadfastness:" - And clasp'd her in his arms with many a kiss. - - But she for wonder took no heed of him, - She heard not any of the words he spoke, - She seemed as one that starteth from a dream - Till she from her astonishment awoke. - "Griselde," cried he, "it was a cruel joke: - Thou art my wife, none other one I have, - Nor ever had--as God my soul shall save! - - "This is thy daughter, whom thou hast supposed - To be my wife--that other faithfully - Shall be my heir, as I have long disposed; - For they are both thy children, verily. - I kept them at Bologna privily. - Take them again, thou canst not say, as once, - Thou hast lost either of thy little ones. - - "And folk, who otherwise have said of me, - I warn them well that I have acted thus, - Neither in malice nor in cruelty, - Solely to prove thy patience marvellous, - And not to slay my babes (God hinder us!) - But to conceal them secretly apart - Until I learned thy purpose and thy heart!" - -You may fancy you see Griselda at this moment, standing in her rags before -the glittering company, and her brain dazed with wondering whether this -were some new freak, or the truth that brought unheard-of joy. But nature -had been taxed too far, and all her courage could not bear up against the -shock. - - Whan sche this herd, aswone doun she fallith, in a swoon - For pitous joy, and after her swownyng swooning - Sche bothe hir yonge children to hir callith, - And in hir armes, pitously wepyng, - Embraseth hem, and tendrely kissyng, - Ful lik a moder, with hir salte teres tears - Sche bathide bothe hir visage and hir heres.[159] their hair - - - When she heard this, all senseless down she falleth, - For piteous joy--and half unconsciously - Both her young children unto her she calleth, - And in her arms, weeping so piteously, - Embraceth them, with kisses tenderly, - Full like a mother, and the tears she sheds - Bathe the fair faces and the dear loved heads. - -Piteous it was to hear her humble voice, thanking Walter so fervently. -"_Graunt mercy_, lord, God thank you," cried she, "for saving me my -children. Now I care not how soon I die, since your love has come back to -me. - - O tendre, O dere, O yonge children myne,[160] - Youre woful moder wende stedefastly believed - That cruel houndes or som foul vermyne wild dogs - Had eten yow: but God of his mercy, - And your benigne fader tenderly - Hath doon yow kepe. And in that same stounde preserved you, - moment - Al sodeinly sche swapped doun to grounde. sank - - And in hir swough so sadly holdith sche swoon, firmly - Hir children tuo, whan sche gan hem tembrace, to embrace them - That with gret sleight and gret difficulte skill - The children from her arm they gonne arace. tear away - O! many a teer on many a pitous face - Doun ran of hem that stooden hir bisyde, down, stood, - beside - Unnethe aboute hir mighte thay abyde. hardly - - Waltier hir gladith, and hir sorwe slakith, cheers, sorrow - Sche rysith up abaisshed from hir traunce, abashed - And every wight hir joy and feste makith, everybody - Til sche hath caught agayn hir continaunce; countenance - Wauter hir doth so faithfully plesaunce, comforts her - That it was daynte for to see the cheere dainty - Bitwix hem tuo, now thay be met in feere. company - - These ladys, whan that thay hir tyme save, their, saw - Han taken hir, and into chambre goon, have - And strippen hir out of hir rude arraye, - And in a cloth of gold that brighte schon, shone - With a coroun of many a riche stoon crown, stone - Upon hir heed, they into hallo hir broughte, - And ther sche was honoured as hir oughte. she ought to be - - Thus hath this pitous day a blisful ende; - For every man and womman doth his might best - This day in mirth and revel to despende, - Til on the welken schon the sterres brighte; welkin - For more solempne in every mannes sighte stately, man's - This feste was, and gretter of costage, greater, cost - Than was the revel of hir mariage. - - - "O young, O dear, O tender children mine, - Your hapless mother thought in all her wo - That cruel beasts of prey and foul vermine - Had slain you both; but God had mercy--lo! - He and your loving father will'd it so - That you should be preserved:" and said no more, - But suddenly fell fainting on the floor. - - And in her swoon so closely holdeth she - Her new-found children in a strong embrace. - That those around unclasp not easily - The fingers which so firmly interlace: - O! many a tear on many a pitying face - Ran down in token of deep sympathy-- - Scarce could they bear to watch her agony. - - Walter consoleth her as she awaketh: - She riseth up bewildered from her trance: - Each presseth round about and merry maketh - Until she hath recovered countenance. - With kisses and with loving word and glance - Walter doth cheer her--sweet it was to see - The joy they felt--united happily. - - And when they saw their time, these ladies gay - Unto a chamber led her forth with them, - And stript her out of all her rude array, - And in apparel bright with many a gem - Clad her, and, crowned with a diadem - Upon her head, they brought her to the hall, - Where she was meetly honoured of them all. - - Thus hath this piteous day a blissful end, - Till every man and woman in the rout - Striveth the day in mirth and glee to spend, - Till in the darken'd sky the stars shone out; - For greater and more sumptuous, without doubt, - This revel was--and there was more to pay-- - Than the rejoicings on her marriage-day. - -Thus dwelt, for many years after, Walter and his wife in peace and joy; -and I hope that the suffering of that day was the last Griselda had to -bear at the hands of her capricious and wilful spouse. The pretty daughter -Walter married to one of the greatest lords in Italy; and he then brought -Griselda's old father to dwell in peace and comfort in his own court. - -His son succeeded to his state and rank, and married happily, though he -did not tempt and torment his wife as Walter did; for the world is not so -strong as it once was, and people cannot bear such treatment now! - -The story is told, not that wives should imitate Griselda in humility, for -it would be unbearable, even if they did; but that every one in his degree -should be constant in adversity as Griselda was. For if one woman could be -so submissive to a mortal man, how much more ought we to take patiently -all that God sends as our lot in life. - -But one word before I stop! It would be hard to find in a whole city -three, or even two, Griseldas nowadays. The gold in their nature is now so -mixed with base metal that in any great trial the coin would sooner break -than bend. - - Grisild is deed, and eek hir pacience, also - And bothe at oones buried in Itayle; once - For whiche I crye in open audience - No weddid man so hardy be to assayle - His wyves pacience, in hope to fynde - Grisildes, for in certeyn he schal fayle. - - - Dead is Griselda, and her patience, - Both buried in one grave in Italy; - So I entreat in open audience - No wedded man be rash enough to try - His own wife's patience, in the hope to find - Griselda's, for he'll fail most certainly! - - -Notes by the Way - -The tender pathos in Chaucer's telling of this story (which he borrowed -from Petrarch, but which is really much older than his time), cannot be -excelled in any story we know of. The definite human interest running all -through it points to some living Griselda, but who she was, or where she -came from, no one knows. Resignation, so steadfast and so willing, was the -virtue of an early time, when the husband was really a 'lord and master'; -and such submission in a woman of the present civilization would be rather -mischievous than meritorious. If a modern wife cheerfully consented to the -murder of her children by her spouse, she would probably be consigned to a -_maison de sante_, while her husband expiated his sins on the scaffold; -and if she endured other persecutions, such as Griselda did, it is to be -hoped some benevolent outsider would step in, if only to prevent cruelty -to animals. - -But it must be remembered that in the old world wives held a very -different position in society, and the obedience of all the household to -the lord of the castle was the chief secret of peace, discipline, and -unity, as obedience to the captain of a vessel is now. We may also infer, -from many hints in this Tale, the admiration felt for that kind of -self-command in which people of a ruder time were so deficient. When -almost everybody gave way habitually to violent emotions of all sorts, -those who could rein in feeling were held in high esteem. Perhaps Walter -himself may not have been wantonly cruel, but only so bewildered by these -unaccustomed virtues that he could not trust their sincerity without -experiments.[161] - -Chaucer seems to me to have devoted especial pains to the Clerk's Tale, -relating it in the same careful versification as the history of the pious -Constance (Man of Law's Tale), the holy St. Cecilia (second Nonne's Tale), -and the Prioress's Tale--all religious, and undoubtedly written _con -amore_. - -The story of Griselda winds up with real artistic power, the Clerk -concluding with an ironical little song addressed to ordinary wives, so as -to leave his hearers laughing, instead of depressed by the inadequate -reward of patient Grizel's virtues. This little song consists of six -beautiful verses, of six lines only each, and in which every line rhymes -with the corresponding line in the five other verses. Clearly great labour -has been lavished on it--but I have not included it, as the ironical -directions to wives to be _bad_ wives would be probably not understood by -a child, and superfluous if they were. - - - - -The Franklin's Tale. - - -Mine host would not suffer long delay between the stories; and as soon as -the last story was at an end, he called upon the Franklin to begin. - - -In Armorike,[162] that is called Brittany, there was a knight named -Arviragus, who loved the lady Dorigene. Much he laboured, and many a brave -deed he performed for her sake. He loved her so dearly that no trouble -seemed to him too great to win her love, for she was the fairest lady -under the sun, and, moreover, came of high lineage. But, at last, seeing -his worthiness and meek obedience, she consented to take him for her -husband and her lord (such lordship as men have over their wives); and, in -order that they might live more happily together, Arviragus, of his own -free will, swore, as a knight, that he would never tyrannize over her, but -follow her wishes in all things, as he had done ever.[163] - -This kindness touched the lady deeply, and she thanked Arviragus; and, -with great humility, she said, "Since of your gentillesse you proffer me -so much power, I will always be a humble and true wife to you. Have here -my troth, until my life shall end." - -Thus they lived happily and at peace; for those who would live long -together must give in to each other. - - Love wol nought ben constreigned by maystrie: mastery - Whan maystrie cometh, the god of love anon soon - Beteth his winges, and fare wel--he is gon! - - - Love will not be constrained by tyranny; - When mastery cometh, the god of Love anon - Beateth his wings, and farewell!--he is gone! - -For women wish for liberty, and not to be kept like slaves--and so do men -also, if I tell truth. And whoever is patient in love, has all the -advantage. Patience is a high virtue, for it overcomes things that rigour -cannot do. - -Arviragus went home with his wife to his own country, not far from -Penmark,[164] where they dwelt 'in bliss and in solace.' - -When a year had passed away, this knight Arviragus made ready to go to -England[165] to seek fame and honour in the service of arms, and there he -dwelt two years. - -But Dorigene loved her husband so dearly that she wept and fell sick when -she was left alone. She could not sleep or eat, and as time went on, all -her friends thought she would die. They tried to amuse her all that they -could. Night and day they strove to comfort her, she was so sad, and -begged her to go and roam with them in the fields and on the sea-shore. - -You know even a stone will show some pattern at last if you cut long -enough at it: and after a while Dorigene began to try and cheer up a -little. Meanwhile, Arviragus sent letters home to tell her he would -speedily return, else grief had slain her heart! - -Now, Dorigene's castle stood near the sea; and sometimes she used to walk -with her friends and her people on the cliffs, from whence she could see -ever so many great ships and barges sailing by. But even the sea began to -make her sad, for she said to herself, "Of all these ships that I see, is -there not one will bring me back my lord?" - -At other times she would sit and look down from the brink of the cliff; -but when she saw the grisly black rocks that wrecked so many ships, her -heart quaked with fear, and she sank on the green grass, and cried, with -deep sighs of grief, "Would to God that all these black rocks were sunk -into the earth, for my lord's sake!" and the piteous tears fell from her -eyes. - -Her friends soon saw it did her no good looking at the sea, but only made -her worse. So they led her by rivers, and in beautiful green places, where -they danced, and played at chess and tables.[166] - - So on a day, right in the morwe tyde, morning - Unto a gardyne that was ther besyde, - In which that thay hadde made here ordinaunce - Of vitaile, and of other purvyaunce, victual - They gon and pleyen hem al the longe day. go, play - And this was on the sixte morwe of May,[167] - Which May had peynted with his softe schoures - This gardyn ful of leves and of floures. - - - So on a day, before the sun was high, - Unto a garden fair that was hard by - (Wherein they had spread forth their meat and drink, - And every comfort that the heart could think), - They went--and sported all the whole long day, - And this was on the sixth sweet morn of May, - When May had painted, with his tender showers, - This garden full of fragrant leaves and flowers. - -The odour of flowers and the fresh scene would have made any heart light -that ever was born except one burdened by great sickness or great sorrow. -After dinner they began to dance and sing--all save Dorigene, whose heart -was sad. He whom she loved best was not among them. - -There danced, among others, a squire before Dorigene, who was handsomer, -and more radiant in array, and fresher than a May morning. He sang and -danced better than anybody ever danced before, or will again! And, -besides, he was young, strong, and virtuous, and rich and wise, and held -in great esteem. - -This squire, whose name was Aurelius, had long loved the Lady Dorigene, -but she knew nothing of it. He did not dare to tell her his grief, and -could only sing songs, in which he complained in a general way that he -loved some one who regarded him not. - -He made a great many songs in this strain. - -But at last, on this day it happened, as Aurelius was her neighbour, and a -man of worship and honour, Dorigene fell a-talking with him; and when he -saw a chance, Aurelius said to her, "Madam, I wish when Arviragus went -over the sea, I had gone whither I could never come back! For well I know -you do not care for me. Madam, forget Arviragus: and love me a little, or -I shall die!" - -Dorigene looked at him, and said, "Is this your will? I never knew what -you meant. But now, this is my answer: I cannot forget my Arviragus, and I -do not care for any one but him!" - -But afterwards she said in play, "Aurelius, I will love you when you have -taken away all the rocks and stones that hinder the ships from sailing. -And when you have made the coast so clear that there is not a single stone -to be seen, then I will love you best of any man." For she well knew the -rocks could never be moved. - -But Aurelius was sorely grieved. "Is there no other grace in you?" said -he. "No, by that Lord who made me," Dorigene answered. "Madam, it is an -impossibility," he said; "I must die." - -Then came Dorigene's other friends, who knew nothing of this. They roamed -up and down the green alleys, and betook themselves to new sports and new -revels; but Aurelius did not mingle with them. He went sorrowfully to his -own home, for it seemed as though he felt his heart grow cold. - -He was so sad that he fell sick, and so suffered a long, long time, -telling his trouble to nobody in the world; except to his brother, who was -a clerk,[168] and who was very sorry for him. - - His breast was hole withouten for to sene, see - But in his herte ay was the arwe kene. ever - - - His breast was whole without, to every eye, - But in his heart the arrow keen did lie. - -And well you know that it is a perilous cure when a wound is healed -outwardly only! - -Meanwhile, Arviragus came home from England to his faithful wife, and -there were great rejoicings, and feasts, and jousting; and these two were -so glad to see each other that they thought of nothing else. Dorigene -cared nothing at all for Aurelius; and Arviragus had no suspicion that -Aurelius had spoken to her of love. - -[Illustration: DORIGEN AND AURELIUS IN THE GARDEN. - - 'Have mercy, swete, or ye wol do me deye.'] - -Now Aurelius' brother was a very learned man; and as he saw Aurelius got -no better, he was very unhappy about him. At last he remembered that he -had once seen at Orleans, in France, a book on conjuring,[169] which had -been left in his way. This book was full of all sorts of curious tricks -which were performed by the 'tregetoures' or jugglers of that day. He was -glad when he thought of this book, feeling sure he saw a chance of curing -Aurelius. - - And whan this boke was in his remembraunce, - Anon for joye his herte gan for to daunce, immediately - And to him selve he sayde pryvely, - My brother shal be warisshed hastely, cured - For I am siker that ther ben sciences sure - By whiche men maken dyverse apparences, various - Swiche as thise subtile tregetoures pleyen, - For oft at festes have I wel herde seyen - That tregettoures withinne an halle large - Han made come in a water and a barge, - And in the halle rowen up and doun. - Sometyme hath semed come a grym leoun, seemed, grim - And sometyme floures spring as in a mede,[170] - Sometyme a vine, and grapes white and rede, - Sometyme a castel al of lym and ston, - And whan hem liked voyded it anon. dispersed - Thus semeth it to every mannes sight. - - - And when this book came, by a lucky chance, - Into his mind, his heart began to dance, - And to himself he whispered privily, - "My brother shall be healed full speedily, - For I am sure that there be sciences - By which men raise divers appearances, - Such as the cunning jugglers do in play; - For oftentimes at feasts have I heard say - That jugglers playing in a hall so large, - Have seemed to bring in waters and a barge, - And in the hall they row it to and fro. - Sometimes a lion fierce will come and go, - Sometimes, as in a meadow, flowers upspring, - Sometimes a vine, with rich fruit clustering, - Sometimes a castle all of lime and stone, - And when they wish, at once the whole is gone! - Thus seemeth it to be, in all men's sight." - -Therefore he thought that if he could find any old friend at Orleans, who -knew anything of magic, he might help Aurelius to win the beautiful -Dorigene. - -He went to his brother's bed, and gave him so much hope that he sprang up -at once and started off to Orleans. - -When they were nearly arrived at the city, they met a young clerk, roaming -by himself, who greeted them in Latin, saying, to their great wonder, "I -know the cause that brings you here," and, ere they went a step farther, -he told them all that was in their minds! - -This clerk was, you see, a magician, and having saved them the trouble of -explaining their business, he brought them to his house, where he feasted -them in splendid style, and showed them many wonderful visions. - - He schewed hem, er they went to soupere, supper - Forestes, parkes, full of wilde dere; - There[171] saw he hartes with hir hornes hie, - The gretest that were ever seen with eie! - He saw of hem an hundred slain with houndes, - And som with arwes blede of bitter woundes. - He saw, when voided were the wilde dere, departed - Thise faukoneres upon a faire rivere, - That with hir haukes han the heron slein. hawks - Tho saw he knyhtes justen in a pleyn; joust - And after this he dide him such plesaunce, - That he him schewed his lady in a daunce, - On which himself he daunced, as him thouht. - And when this mayster that this magique wrouht, - Sawh it was tyme, he clapped his hondes tuo, two - And, fare wel! al the revel is y-do! done - And yet remued they never out of the hous - While they saw alle this sightes mervelous; - But in his studie, ther his bookes be, - They saten stille, and no wighte but they thre. - - - He made appear, before they went to meat, - Forests and parks, with wild deer fair and fleet; - There saw he harts that tossed their antlers high, - The greatest that were ever seen with eye! - He saw a hundred of them slain by hounds, - While some with arrows bled of bitter wounds, - And when the wild deer were no longer there, - Came falconers upon a river fair, - Who, with their falcons, have the heron slain; - Then saw he knights all jousting in a plain; - And after this he gave him such pleasance, - That he could see his lady in a dance, - In which himself was dancing, as he thought. - And when this master, who the magic wrought, - Saw it was time, he clapped his hands, and eh! - Farewell! for all the revel fades away! - And yet they never moved from out the house, - While they did see these visions marvellous; - But in his study, where his volumes lay, - They sat alone, and no man else but they. - -Therefore, after all these wondrous sights, inside the magician's study, -there was no doubt that he could make the rocks disappear on the coast of -Brittany! - -Aurelius asked him how much money he should give him to perform that feat, -and the magician said he must have no less than a thousand pounds;[172] -but Aurelius said he would give him the whole world if he could; and it -was agreed that for this sum he should make the rocks vanish, and that -without delay! - -The next morning, at daybreak, Aurelius, his brother, and the magician, -went to the sea-side of Brittany, where the feat was to be done: it was -the cold frosty month of December. - -Aurelius paid the magician every attention in his power, and entreated him -to hasten to alleviate his misery; he rather ungraciously added, that he -would slit his heart with his sword if he didn't. - -The cunning sorcerer made as much haste as he could with his spells and -trickeries to make all the rocks sink, or seem to sink, before the eyes of -all that looked at them, right underground; at last he succeeded. By his -magic arts it really did seem to everybody, for a week or two, that the -rocks were all gone. - -Aurelius thanked him with joy, and then hastened to the castle, where he -knew he should see Dorigene, to remind her of what she had promised. - -"My sovereign lady," he said, saluting her humbly-- - - Ye wot right wel what ye byhighte me, promised - And in myn hond your trouthe plighte ye my - To love me best; God woot ye sayde so, - Al be that I unworthy am therto. - Madame, I speke it for thonour of yow you - More than to save myn hertes lif right now: - I have do so as ye comaundede me, - And if ye vouchesauf ye maye go se. vouchsafe - In yow lith al to do me lyve or deye, lieth - But wel I wote the rokkes ben aweye. are - - - "You know right well what you have promised me, - And hand in mine your fair trouth plighted ye - To love me best; God knoweth you said so, - Although I be unworthy thereunto. - Madam, I speak for th' honour of the vow - More than to urge my heart's deep longing now: - For I have done as you commanded me, - And if you please it, you may go and see. - It rests with you, to let me live or die, - But that the rocks have vanish'd, well know I." - -Poor Dorigene had little expected to fall into such a trap! She stood -astonished, and her face grew white--all the colour left her cheeks. How -bitterly she repented her rash promise! for she did not want to go away -with Aurelius. "Alas!" she cried, "that such a thing should be! how could -I guess so monstrous a marvel could come to pass?" and her terror made her -like one desperate. - -Her husband, Arviragus, too, was absent, and there was no one she could -tell her trouble to. She cried and lamented for three days, vainly -thinking how she could get out of the scrape; and at last she determined -to die. So three days passed, and all the time she was weeping and -resolving on her death. - -However, on the third night, Arviragus came home again; and, when he knew -what she was weeping so bitterly for, he said, cheerfully and kindly, "Is -that all, Dorigene?" - - Is ther aught elles, Dorigen, but this? else - Nay, nay, quod sche, God me so rede and wis reads, knows - This is to moche, and it were Goddes wille! if - Ye, wyf, quod he, let slepe that may be stille,[173] - It may be wel, paraunter, yet to-day. peradventure - Ye schal your trouthe holden, by my fay, faith - For God so wisly have mercy on me, wisely - I hadde wel lever i-stekid for to be, rather, slain - For verray love which that I to you have, - But if ye scholde your trouthe kepe and save, unless - Trouthe is the hiest thing that man may kepe. - And with that word he brast anon to wepe. burst - - - "Is there aught further, Dorigene, than this?" - "Nay, nay," cried she, "God help me, for it is - Too much already--were it but His will!" - "Yea, wife," he answered, "what has been is still, - But yet, perchance, it may be well to-day. - That promise you shall hold to, by my fay, - For as I hope for mercy from on high, - I would more willingly consent to die, - Yea for the love's sake that I bear to you, - Than you should break the honour of a vow - Faith is the highest thing that can be kept." - And with that word he broke away and wept. - -Poor Arviragus, this brave and just knight, bade Dorigene keep her word at -any cost to herself or him, but he could not keep up his cheerful tone. He -was too deeply grieved and hurt, and even wept with her for sorrow. - -Then he commanded a squire and a maid to attend Dorigene for a part of the -way to the garden, where Aurelius would fetch her. - -Now, Aurelius happened to meet her on her way to the garden, in one of the -busiest streets of the town. He saluted her joyfully, and asked her -whither she was going. But Dorigene was distracted with grief. - - And sche answered, half as sche were mad, - Unto the gardyn, as myn housbond bad, - My trouthe for to holde, allas! allas! - - - And she made answer half as she were mad, - "Unto the garden, as my husband bade, - To keep my troth to you, alas! alas!" - -When Aurelius heard that, he was deeply touched that Arviragus should have -sent her, weeping as she was, rather than she should break her promise. -See how proud and how strong the sense of honour was in those days! He -felt that after such a sacrifice he would rather forego everything than -insist upon his right to take away Dorigene, which, he felt, would be -'_churlish wretchedness against fraunchise of all gentillesse_'[174]--a -deed against courtesy and honour. And he said, "Madam, say to your lord, -Arviragus, that since I see he would rather suffer anything than that you -should fail in truth, and since I see that you care far more for Arviragus -than ever you will for me--even if you went away with me, you would never -love me as much as Arviragus--I would rather be unhappy all my life than -make you so. I release you from your promise for ever." - - Thus can a squyer doon a gentil dede, do - As wel as can a knyghte, withouten drede. - - - Thus can a squire do a noble deed - As nobly as a knight can, without dread. - -Dorigene fell down on her knees and thanked him, and went back to her -husband happy, and they lived in bliss ever after. - -Aurelius, however, though his conscience was clear, bethought him of all -his trouble and the money he had spent to no purpose. He had willingly -promised all his fortune when he thought he could win beautiful Dorigene; -but now he said, "I must sell my heritage, but I cannot live here a beggar -to shame my kindred; unless the magician would be so kind as to let me pay -the thousand pounds little by little. I will not break my promise to him. -He shall have the money though I have got nothing by it." - - With herte soor he goth unto his cofre, sore - And broughte gold unto this philosophre, philosopher - The value of fyf hundred pound, I gesse, - And him bysecheth of his gentillesce, beseecheth - To graunte him dayes of the remenaunt; remnant - And sayde, Maister, I dar wel make avaunt boast - I fayled never of my trouthe as yit, - For sikerly my dettes schall be quyt surely - Towardes yow, how so that ever I fare - To goon and begge in my kurtil bare, beg, tunic - But wolde ye vouchesauf upon seurte, vouchsafe, surety - Tuo yere or thre for to respite me, - Than were I wel, for elles most I selle - Myn heritage, ther is nomore to telle. - - - With mournful heart he went unto his coffer - And took such gold as he was free to offer, - The value of five hundred pounds, I guess; - Beseeching him, of his kindheartedness, - To grant him for the rest some time to pay, - And said, "Master, I do not fear to say - I never failed to keep my word as yet; - Truly my debt to you I shall acquit, - Whatever comes--though I must needs at best - Go begging in my shirt to find the rest. - But would ye grant, on good security, - To give me credit for two years, or three, - Then all were well, for else I must needs sell - My heritage--there is no more to tell." - -The magician soberly answered, "Did I not keep my covenant with you?" - -"Yes, well and truly," said Aurelius. - -"And did you not take the lady away with you?" - -"No, no," said Aurelius, sadly; and he told him all that had happened. - -The magician answered, "Dear friend, every one of you has behaved -honourably. Thou art a squire, and he is a knight, but a simple clerk can -do a gentle deed, as well as any of you! Sir, I release you from your -thousand pounds: I will not take a penny from you." And he took his horse -and rode away. - -Chaucer winds up by saying-- - - Lordynges, this questioun wold I axe now-- ask - Which was the moste free, as thinketh yow? liberal - - - Masters, a little question answer me-- - Which one was the most generous of the three? - -And you, tell me which you think was the most honourable in keeping faith, -and most generous in giving up his rights. - -But beware of the folly that Dorigene committed, in making rash promises; -for when you make a promise you must be prepared to keep it, and cannot -always expect to be let off as she was. - - -Notes by the Way. - -One of the most interesting illustrations of the singular morality which -was the outcome of woman's transition state from a position of slavery to -one of equality with man, is to be found in this curious but beautiful -tale: a tale which in any other age could scarcely have been popular. The -Franklin tells us it was an old Breton lay; which, however, is now not -known to exist. - -It is seen that woman, from being regarded as a mere chattel, like horse -or dog, came to be unnaturally exalted; and, as new movements often -outshoot their mark and go too far, she came to be held as something -god-like and ideal, the moving spring of all heroic virtues. Valour, -courtesy, self-control, obedience, were taught by her, and she could give -no higher guerdon than herself. (See note to 'Knight's Tale,' p. 45.) - -It is the young and inexperienced hound which outruns the scent, not the -fully trained dog, and we must remember that society had then the virtues -and vices of immaturity. The Franklin's Tale, with its pathos and -earnestness, passing at times into burlesque, is as quaint and instructive -as an early effigy on some cathedral door. - -A certain soft and refined luxuriousness seems to hang like a gossamer -veil over a sentiment of genuine and vigorous chivalry, carried too far -for our 19th century notions, but, like the generous mistakes of youth, -none the less touching. - -The moral of this striking tale points out the danger of giving even the -smallest inlet to wrong dealing; since a condition apparently impossible -to realize may after all work our ruin. - - - - -The Pardoner's Tale. - - -Then mine host turned to the Pardoner: "Thou, pardoner, thou, my good -friend," he said-- - - Tel us a tale, for thou canst many oon. - It schal be doon, quod he, and that anoon. - But first, quod he, her at this ale-stake[175] - I wil bothe drynke and byten on a cake. - - - "Tell us a tale; thou knowest many an one." - "I will!" he said; "it shall at once be done. - But first," he added, "here at this ale-stake - I'll take a drink, and have a bite of cake." - -When he had done so (for they were passing a roadside inn), he began, as -you shall hear:-- - - -There was in Flanders a company of young folk, who gave themselves up to -folly and wrong-doing. They did nothing but gamble and riot, and drink -wine, and dance, and swear; and their gluttony and idleness made them -wicked, so that when they heard of other people committing sin they -laughed and did as much wrong as ever they could. - -This kind of life degrades every one. Gluttony was the first cause of our -confusion: Adam and Eve were driven from Paradise for that vice. And -drunkenness leads to many other sins, as is shown in Holy Writ. - -Three of these bad young men were sitting in a tavern one morning very -early, drinking, when they heard the clinking of a bell[176] before a -corpse that was being carried to the grave. One of them called to his boy, -"Go out, and ask who that dead man is who passes by; and mind you bring -his name back right!" - -"Master," said the boy, "there is no need to go and ask, for I heard who -the dead man was two hours before you came into this tavern. He was one of -your own companions, and he was slain last night as he sat in his chair -drinking, by a privy thief named Death, who kills everybody in this -country. With his spear he smote his heart in two, and went away without -speaking. About a thousand has he killed this pestilence.[177] And, -master, it seems to me, that before he comes to you too, it were as well -to be prepared. Beware of him, be ready for him! my dame ever taught me -that." - - By seinte Mary, sayde this taverner, innkeeper - The child saith soth, for he hath slayn this yeer, true - Hens over a myle, withinne a gret village, - Bothe man and womman, child, and hyne, and page. labourer - - - "By holy Mary," said the innkeeper, - "The child says true, for he hath slain this year, - Within a mile hence, in a large village, - Both man and woman, servant, child, and page. - -"I should think he lived there, this Death, so many have died. It were -wise to be warned before he came suddenly on a man!" - -"Good lack," cried one of the rioters with an oath, "is it then such -danger to meet him? I'll seek him out by street and stile. - - Herkneth, felaws, we thre ben all oones, hearken, be - Let ech of us hold up his hond[178] to other, hand - And ech of us bycome otheres brother; - And we wil slee this false traitour Deth; - He shall be slayne, that so many sleeth. slain, slayeth - - - "Now listen, mates, for all we three are one, - Let each hold up his hand unto the other, - And each of us become the others' brother. - And we will slay this sneaking traitor Death, - He shall be slain, he that so many slay'th." - -So these three men, half drunk as they were, plighted faith to live and -die for each other, as though they were brothers born. And up they -started, and went forth to this village, of which the innkeeper had -spoken, where they thought Death lived. And much bad language they used, -and many wicked things they said, resolving to catch Death before night -fell. - - Right as thay wolde han torned over a style, turned - Whan thai han goon nought fully half a myle, - An old man and a pore with hem mette. - This olde man ful mekely hem grette,[179] meekly, greeted - And saide thus, Lordynges, God yow se! God see you - The proudest of these ryotoures thre rioters - Answerd ayein, What, carle, with sory grace, churl - Why artow al for-wrapped save thi face?[180]-- wrapped up - Why lyvest thou longe in so great an age? - - This olde man gan loke on his visage, began, look - And saide thus: For that I can not fynde because - A man--though that I walke into Inde-- - Neither in cite noon, ne in village, - That wol chaunge his youthe for myn age; - And therfore moot I have myn age stille - As longe tyme as it is Goddes wille, - Ne Deth, allas! ne wil not have my lif, - Thus walk I lik a resteles caytif,[181] - And on the ground, which is my modres gate, - I knokke with my staf, erly and late, - And saye, Leeve moder, let me in. dear - Lo, how I wane, fleisch, and blood, and skyn-- - Allas, whan schuln my boones ben at rest? shall, bones - Moder, with yow wil I chaunge my chest, - That in my chamber longe tyme hath be, - Ye, for an haire clout[182] to wrap-in me. enwrap - But, yet to me sche wol not do that grace, favour - For which ful pale and welkid is my face. withered - - But sires, to yow it is no curtesye - To speke unto an old man vilonye, - But he trespas in word or elles in dede. unless, else - In holy writ ye may yourself wel rede, read - Ayens an old man, hoor upon his hede, in presence of - Ye schold arise: wherefor I you rede exhort - Ne doth unto an old man more harm now, do not - Namore than ye wolde men dede to yow - In age, if that ye may so long abyde. live so long - And God be with you, wherso ye go or ryde! walk - I moot go thider as I have to goo. thither - - Nay, olde cherl, by God thou shalt not so, - Sayde that other hasardour anoon, - Thou partist nought so lightly, by seint Johan! departest, easily - Thou spak right now of thilke traitour Deth, - That in this contre alle our frendes sleth; - Have her my trouth, as thou art his aspye; here - Tel wher he is, or elles thou schalt dye.[183] - - - Just as they were about to cross a stile, - When they had gone not fully half a mile, - A poor and aged man did meet them there. - This old man greeted them with civil air, - And said, "Good day, my lords, God look on ye." - Then the most arrogant of the noisy three - Answered him thus--"What, churl, with sorry grace, - Why art thou all wrapped up except thy face? - Why livest thou so long, and art so grey?" - - The old man looked him in the face straightway, - And answer'd thus: "Because I cannot find - A man--e'en though I walk'd as far as Inde-- - Neither in any city, nor village, - Willing to change his youth for mine old age; - And therefore must I have my old age still - As long a time as it is heaven's will. - Nor will e'en Death receive my life, alas! - Thus like a restless wayfarer I pass, - And on the ground, which is my mother's gate, - Keep knocking with my staff early and late, - And say to her--'Dear mother, let me in. - Lo, how I vanish, flesh and blood and skin-- - Alas, when shall my bones remain at rest? - Mother, I want to change with you my chest, - Which in my room so long a time hath been, - Yea, for a cloth of hair to wrap me in!' - But yet to me she will not do that grace, - Wherefore so pale and wrinkled is my face. - - "But, sirs, in you it is no courtesy - To speak to an old man disdainfully, - Unless he shall offend in word or deed. - In Holy Writ ye may your own selves read, - Before an aged man whose hair is grey - Ye should rise up--and therefore I you pray - Offer to an old man no mischief now - More than you would that men did unto you - In your old age, if you so long abide, - And God be with you, whither you walk or ride! - I must go on, whither I have to go." - - "Nay, thou old churl, thou shalt not quit us so." - Cried out the other rioter anon, - "Thou partest not so lightly, by St. John! - Thou hast just spoken of that traitor Death - Who all our friends through all the country slay'th, - So now I warrant thee, thou art his spy; - Tell where he is, this Death, or thou shall die. - -"You needn't deny that you know of his whereabouts--for you are in his -plot to get rid of us young folks, you wretched old thief!" - - Now, sires, than if that yow be so leef - To fynde Deth, torn up this croked way, - For in that grove I laft him,[184] by my fay, - Under a tree, and ther he wil abyde. remain - Ne for your bost he nyl him no thing hyde. boast - Se ye that ook? right ther ye schuln him fynde. - God save yow, that bought agein mankynde, again - And yow amend. Thus sayth this olde man, - - And everich of these riotoures ran, every one - Til thay come to the tre, and ther thay founde - Of florins fyn of gold ycoyned rounde, coined - Wel neygh a seven busshels, as hem thoughte. - No lenger thanne after Deth thay soughte, - But ech of hem so glad was of that sighte, - For that the florens so faire were and brighte, - That doun thai sette hem by the precious hord. - The werste[185] of hem he spake the firste word. - Bretheren, quod he, take kepe what I schal saye, - My witte is gret, though that I bourde and playe, wisdom, jest - This tresour hath fortune to us yiven, given - In mirth and jolyte our lif to lyven, jollity, live - And lightly as it comth, so wil we spende. cometh - Ey, Goddis precious dignite, who wende supposed - Today, that we schuld have so fair a grace? - But mighte this gold be caried fro this place - Hom to myn hous, or ellis unto youres, - (For wel I wot that this gold is nought oures), know - Than were we in heyh felicite. high - But trewely by day it may not be, - Men wolde saye that we were theves stronge, - And for our tresour doon us for to honge. have us hanged - This tresour moste caried be by nighte - As wysly and as slely as it mighte. - Wherfore I rede, that cut among us alle advise - We drawe, and let se wher the cut wil falle, - And he that hath the cut, with herte blithe, blithe heart - Shal renne to the toun, and that ful swithe, run, quickly - And bring us bred and wyn ful prively, - And tuo of us shal kepe subtilly - This tresour wel: and if he wol not tarie, delay - Whan it is night, we wol this tresour carie,[186] - By oon assent, ther as us liketh best. wither - - That oon of hem the cut brought in his fest, fist - And bad hem drawe and loke wher it wil falle, look - And it fel on the yongest of hem alle, - And forth toward the toun he went anoon. at once - - And al so soone as that he was agoon, - That oon of hem spak thus unto that other: - Thou wost wel that thou art my sworne brother, - Thy profyt wol I telle the anoon. directly - Thou wost wel that our felaw is agoon, knowest - And her is gold, and that ful gret plente, plenty - That schal departed be among us thre. - But natheles if I can schape it so - That it departed were betwix us tuo, - Hadde I not doon a frendes torn to the? - - That other answerd, I not how that may be; know not - He wot wel that the gold is with us twaye, two - What schulde we than do? what schulde we saye? say - Schal it be counsail?[187] sayd the ferste schrewe, wicked person - And I schal telle thee in wordes fewe - What we schul doon, and bringe it wel aboute. do - I graunte, quod that other, without doute, - That by my trouthe I wil thee nought bywraye. betray - - Now, quoth the first, thou wost wel we ben twaye, knowest - And two of us schal strenger be than oon. - Loke, whanne he is sett, thou right anoon[188] look - Arys, as though thou woldest with him pleye,[189] wouldest - And I schal ryf him through the sydes tweye, rip - Whils that thou strogelest with him as in game, - And with thi dagger, loke thou do the same. - And than schal al the gold departed be, divided - My dere frend, bitwixe the and me: thee - Than may we oure lustes al fulfille, might - And pley at dees right at our owne wille. dice - - - "Now, sirs," quoth he, "if you so eager be - To seek for Death, turn up this crooked way, - For in that grove I left him, by my fay, - Under a tree, and there he will abide, - Nor for your noise and boasting will he hide. - See ye that oak? close there his place you'll find, - God save you, sirs, that hath redeem'd mankind, - And mend you all"--thus said the aged man. - - And thereupon each of the rioters ran - Until they reach'd the tree, and there they found - A heap of golden florins, bright and round, - Well-nigh seven bushels of them, as they thought. - And then no longer after Death they sought, - But each of them so glad was at the sight, - The florins were so beauteous and so bright, - That down they sat beside the precious hoard. - The worst one was the first to speak a word. - "Brothers," said he, "take heed of what I say, - For I am wise, although I jest and play, - This treasure makes our fortune, so that we - May lead our lives in mirth and jollity, - And lightly as it comes, we'll lightly spend. - By heaven! who would have thought that luck would send - Us three good friends to-day so fair a grace? - But could this gold be carried from this place - Home to my house, or else to one of yours - (For all this gold I well know is not ours) - Then were we in complete felicity. - But, truly, during day it cannot be, - People would call us thieves, and possibly - Hang us for our own treasure on a tree. - This treasure should be carried off by night, - As cleverly and slily as it might. - I counsel then, that we among us all - Draw lots, and see to whom the lot will fall, - And he that hath the lot shall cheerfully - Go back into the town, and speedily, - And bring us bread and wine full privily; - Meanwhile we two keep safe and secretly - This treasure here: and if he do not tarry, - When the night comes we will the treasure carry, - By one assent, where we think best, or list." - - This man then held the lots within his fist, - And bade them draw and see where it would fall; - It fell upon the youngest of them all, - Who therefore toward the town went forth anon. - - As soon as their companion was gone - The first one subtly spoke unto the other: - "Thou knowest well that thou art my sworn brother, - I'll tell thee what thy profit is to-day. - Thou seest that our fellow is away, - And here is gold, all heap'd up plenteously, - Which is to be divided 'mong us three. - But, nevertheless, if I can shape it so - That it might be divided 'mong us _two_, - Have I not done a friend's turn unto thee?" - - "I know not," said the other, "how that may be; - He knows quite well the gold is with us two, - What should we say to him? what should we do?" - "Shall it be counsel?" said the first again-- - "And in a few words I shall tell thee plain, - What we shall do to bring the thing about." - "I promise," said the other, "without doubt - That I, for one, will not be treacherous." - - "Now," said the first one, "there are two of us, - And two of us will stronger be than one. - Look, thou, when he is sitting down, and soon - Rise up, as if to play with him, and I - Will stab him through the two sides suddenly, - While thou art struggling with him as in game, - And with thy dagger, look, thou do the same. - And then shall all this gold divided be, - My dearest friend, betwixt thyself and me: - Then all our wants and whims we can fulfil, - And play at dice according to our will." - -[Illustration: THE RIOTER. - - 'For this witterly was his ful entente-- - To slen hem bothe and never to repente.'] - -Thus these two ruffians made their compact to murder the third, as I have -described. - - This yongest, which that wente to the toun, who - Full fast in hert he rollith up and doun close - The beaute of these florins, newe and brighte. - O Lord, quoth he, if so were that I mighte - Have all this gold unto myself alloone, - Ther is no man that lyveth under the troone throne - Of God, that schulde lyve so mery as I. - And atte last the feend, oure enemy, - Put in his thought that he schulde poysoun beye, buy - With which he mighte sle his felawes tweye. slay - For why? the feend fond him in such lyvynge - That he hadde leve to sorwe him to brynge: sorrow - For this was outrely[190] his ful entente - To slen hem bothe, and never to repente. slay - And forth he goth, no lenger wold he tarye, delay - Into the toun unto a potecarye, apothecary - And prayde him that he him wolde selle - Som poysoun, that he might his rattis quelle; rats - And eek ther was a polkat in his hawe farmyard - That, as he sayde, his capouns had i-slawe, - And said he wold him wreke, if that he mighte, avenge - Of vermyn, that destroyed hem by nighte. - - Thapotecary answerd,[191]Thou schalt have the apothecary - A thing that, also God my soule save, - In al this world ther nys no creature - That ete or dronk hath of this confecture-- mixture - Nought but the mountaunce of a corn of whete-- amount - That he ne schuld his lif anoon for-lete; quit - Ye, sterve he schal, and that in lasse while die - Than thou wilt goon a paas not but a myle, step - This poysoun is so strong and violent. - - This cursed man hath in his hond i-hent caught or taken - This poysoun in a box, and sins he ran then - Into the nexte stret unto a man - And borwed of him large boteles thre, - And in the two his poysoun poured he: - The thrid he kepede clene for his drynke, third, clean - For al the night he schop him for to swynke prepared, labour - In carying of the gold out of that place. - And whan this riotour, with sorry grace, rioter - Hath fillid with wyn his grete botels thre, - To his felaws ayein repaireth he. again - - What nedith it therof to sermoun more? sermonize - For right as they hadde cast[192] his deth bifore, arranged - Right so thay han him slayn, and that anoon. have - And whan this was i-doon, thus spak that oon: spake, one - Now let us drynke and sitte, and make us mery, - And afterwards[193] we wil his body bery. will - And with that word[193] it happed him _par cas_ by chance - To take the botel ther the poysoun was, wherein - And drank, and yaf his felaw drink also, gave - For which anon thay stervede bothe two. soon, died - But certes I suppose that Avycen[194] certainly - Wrot never in _canoun_, ne in non _fen_, wrote - Mo wonder sorwes of empoisonyng wondrous pangs - Than hadde these wrecches tuo or here endyng. - Thus endid been these homicides tuo, be - And eek the fals empoysoner also. also - - - The youngest, who had gone into the town, - Deep in his mind he turneth up and down - The beauty of these florins, new and bright. - "O Lord," quoth he, "if any-wise I might - Have all this treasure to myself alone, - There is no man that dwelleth under the throne - Of God, who then should live so merry as I." - And at the last the fiend, our enemy, - Put in his thought that he should poison buy, - With which to cause his comrades both to die. - For why? the fiend found this man's life so foul - That he had power now upon his soul: - For this was utterly his fix'd intent - To slay them both and never to repent - And forth he goes, no longer would he tarry, - Into the town to an apothecary, - And begged him plausibly that he would sell - Him poison strong enough the rats to quell; - Also, there was a polecat in his yard - Which had destroy'd his capons, he averr'd, - And he would gladly rid him if he might - Of vermin, which destroy'd them in the night. - - The apothecary answered, "Thou shalt have - Something so strong, as God my soul shall save, - That in this world nothing that living is - Who in his food doth eat or drink of this-- - Nay, but the greatness of a grain of wheat-- - Shall fail to die, his life shall be forfeit; - Yea, he shall die, and that in lesser while - Than thou shalt walk a step beyond a mile, - This poison is so strong and violent." - - This cursed man hath taken it and pent - The poison in a box, and forthwith ran - Hastily to the next street, to a man - And borrow'd of him some large bottles three, - And into two the poison poured he: - The third he kept untainted for himself, - Meaning to toil at carrying his pelf - From out that cursed place the whole night long. - And when this villain, bent on doing wrong, - Had filled his three great bottles up with wine, - Back to his mates he went, as if to dine. - - What need is there of saying any more? - For as they had devised his death before, - E'en so they slew him, and with brief delay. - And when the deed was done, the first did say, - "Now let us sit and drink, and make us merry, - And afterwards we will his body bury." - And speaking thus, he chanced, upon the minute, - To take a bottle which had poison in it, - And drank, and gave his fellow drink beside, - Whereby within a little space they died. - But truly I suppose that Avicen - Did ne'er describe in _canon_ or in _fen_ - More frightful pains of deadly poisoning, - Than these two wretches felt in perishing. - Thus ended both the wicked homicides, - And that false-hearted poisoner besides. - - -Notes by the Way. - -During the 12th, 13th, and 14th centuries the passion for gambling had -spread from the highest to the very lowest class of the population. The -practice of men drinking and playing themselves bare in the taverns, where -both vices were encouraged by the taverners, was common enough to provoke -numberless censures and caricatures, so much so that it is a mercy Sir -Wilfrid Lawson was spared the spectacle. The Pardoner's Tale is one of the -list. - -The taverns were the resort of all the refuse of the people: the taverners -found it suited them to act as pawnbrokers, advancing money on the clothes -and property of the ne'er-do-wells who lacked cash to stake or to pay; and -provided other attractions whereby men were tempted to various vices, and -robbed during their drunken sleep. The language of these young rascals of -both sexes is graphically condemned by the Pardoner; and gluttony is -pointed out as the root of all evil, for which Adam fell. - -Hazard was the game with which our rioters strove to 'drive away the day.' -Mr. Wright, speaking of the use of dice, tells us, "In its simpler form, -that of the game of hazard, in which the chance of each player rested on -the mere throw of the dice, it was the common game of the low frequenters -of the taverns--that class which lived upon the vices of society, and -which was hardly looked upon as belonging to society itself." Men staked -all they possessed, to the very clothes on their backs, on one cast. - -Chaucer tells us contemptuously how the King of Parthia sent a pair of -golden dice to King Demetrius in scorn, knowing he was a player, to -express that he held his glory and renown at no value, being liable to -disappear at any moment. - -The three rioters were probably young men who had ruined themselves by -folly and licence, and whose besetting sin, surviving all it throve on, -urged them to any and every crime for the sake of renewed gratification. -Their end is beyond measure frightful. _For why?--The fiend found him in -such living that he had leave to bring him to grief_, says the severe old -moralist. - -The extreme beauty of this poem, even in a technical sense alone, is such -that I lament the necessity of abridging it. - - - - -MINOR POEMS. - - -Complaint of Chaucer to his Purse. - - To yow, my purse, and to noon other wight, no one else - Complayn I, for ye be my lady dere; - I am so sorry now that ye been lyght,[195] - For certes, but-yf ye make me heavy cheer if - Me were as leef be layde upon my bere, I were - For whiche unto your mercy thus I crye-- - Beeth hevy ageyne, or elles mote I dye! be thou - - Now voucheth sauf this day, or hyt be nyghte, vouchsafe before - That I of yow the blissful soune may here, sound - Or se your colour lyke the sunne bryghte, - That of yelownesse hadde never pere! rival - Ye be my lyfe! ye be myn hertys stere! rudder - Quene of comfort and goode companye, - Beth hevy ayeyne, or elles moote I die! - - Now, purse, that ben to me my lyves lyghte, life's - And saveour as doun in this worlde here, saviour - Oute of this toune helpe me thurgh your myght, - Syn that ye wole nat bene my tresorere,[196] since, treasurer - For I am shave[197] as nye as is a frere. nigh - But I pray unto youre courtesye, - Bethe hevy ayeyn, or elles moote I dye! - - - To you, my purse, and to no other wight, - Complain I, for you are my lady dear; - I am so sorry now that you are light, - For truly if you make me heavy cheer - I would as lief be laid upon my bier. - Therefore unto your mercy thus I cry-- - Be heavy again, or else I needs must die! - - I prithee grant this day, ere it be night, - That I once more your merry voice may hear, - Or see your colour like the sunshine bright, - Whereof the yellowness had never peer! - You are my life, and you my heart shall steer; - Queen of all comfort and good company, - Be heavy again, or else I needs must die! - - Now, purse, who are to me my life, my light, - And chief deliverer in this world here, - Out of this city help me, by your might, - If you no more will be my treasure dear, - For I am shaved as close as any frere. - But I beseech you of your courtesy, - Be heavy again, or else I needs must die! - - -Two Rondeaux. - - Youre two eyn will sle me sodenly, slay - I may the beaute of them not sustene, sustain - So wendeth it thorow-out my herte kene. goeth - - And but your wordes will helen hastely - My hertis wound, while that it is grene, - Youre two eyn will sle me sodenly, &c. - - Upon my trouth I say yow feithfully tell - That ye ben of my liffe and deth the quene, are - For with my deth the trouth shal be i-sene - Youre two eyn, &c. - - - Your fair two eyes will slay me suddenly, - I know not how to bear their beauty's sheen, - It pierceth all my heart athrough so keen. - - And if your words heal not full speedily - My heart's deep wound, while still the wound is green, - Your fair two eyes will slay me suddenly, - I know not how to bear their beauty's sheen, - It pierceth all my heart athrough so keen. - - Upon my faith I tell you faithfully - Both of my life and death you are the queen, - For in my dying shall the truth be seen. - Your fair two eyes will slay me suddenly, - I know not how to bear their beauty's sheen - It pierceth all my heart athrough so keen. - - - Syn I, fro Love escaped, am so fat, - I nere thinke to ben in his prison lene:[198] taken - Syn I am fre, I counte him not a bene. since, free - - He may answere and seye this and that: - I do no fors, I speak ryght as I mene: I care not - Syn I fro Love escaped am so fat. - - Love hath my name i-strike out of his sclat, struck, slate - And he is strike out of my bokes clene books - For evermo, there is none other mene. means - Syn I fro Love, &c. - - - Since I escaped from love, I am so fat, - No more I shall his captive be so lean: - Since I am free, I count him not a bean! - - He may reply, and answer this and that: - I care not, for I speak but as I mean: - Since I from love escaped, I am so fat! - - My name--out of his slate Love striketh that. - And he is struck out of my books as clean - For evermore, there is no way between! - Since I escaped, etc. - - -Virelai. - - Alone walkyng, - In thought pleynyng mourning - And sore syghyng, - Al desolate, - Me remembryng remembering - Of my lyvyng, my way of living - My deth wyshyng wishing - Bothe erly and late. - - Infortunate unfortunate - Is soo my fate so - That, wote ye whate? - Oute of mesure beyond measure - My lyfe I hate, - Thus, desperate, - In suche pore estate poor - Do I endure. remain - - Of other cure - Am I nat sure; not - Thus to endure - Ys hard, certayn! - Suche ys my ure, use - I yow ensure: assure - What creature - May have more payn? - - My trouth so pleyn truth - Ys take in veyn, taken - And gret disdeyn - In remembraunce; remembrance - Yet I ful feyn gladly - Wolde me compleyn, - Me to absteyn to avoid - From thys penaunce. penance - - But, in substaunce, substance - None allegeaunce alleviation - Of my grevaunce grievance - Can I nat fynd; not - - Ryght so my chaunce - With displesaunce displeasure - Doth me avaunce; advance - And thus an end. - - - Alone walk I, - With many a sigh - In secrecy, - All desolate, - And still review - My life anew: - For death I sue - Both early and late. - - My fate doth grow - So luckless now - That--do you know? - Beyond all telling - My life I hate: - Thus, desperate, - In woeful state - I still am dwelling. - - I am not sure - Of any cure; - 'Tis hard t' endure - With no relief! - But certain 'tis, - My state is this: - What thing that is - Could have more grief? - - My story plain - Is taken in vain, - With great disdain - In recollection; - Yet I would fain - Alway complain, - To shun the pain - Of this correction! - - For which find I, - Substantially, - No remedy, - My lot to mend; - - So fate, I see, - Still draws on me - More enmity-- - And there's an end! - - -Notes by the Way. - -Chaucer's 'Complaint to his Purse' was written, according to Mr. -Furnivall, in September, 1399, when Chaucer was in distress for money, and -sent to Henry IV. as a broad hint,--which was at once attended to. - -It is a very clever piece of versification, like the 'Good Counsel,' &c., -each line rhyming with the corresponding line in the other verses. He -addresses his hapless purse as though it were his lady-love, and comically -entreats her mercy, when he sees her inclined to be 'light.' - -Mr. Furnivall's ingenious suggestion, that Chaucer's penury may possibly -be due to his having dabbled in alchemy (an empirical branch of -chemistry), is borne out by the technical knowledge displayed in the -Canon's Yeoman's Tale. - -We may add here--to defend our great man's character--that alchemy was -believed in by many men of exceptional mental power. Roger Bacon, -discoverer of gunpowder and the magnifying glass, is perhaps the greatest -name among them; and vain as seemed much of their toil with crucibles and -furnaces, alembics and aludels, we owe a great deal to the first -meritorious alchemists, who really paved the way to modern chemistry. - -There is no reason to suppose Chaucer had any vice likely to affect his -pocket; but alchemy was the scientific mania of the day, and high and low -were ready to risk fortune and health in pursuit of the philosopher's -stone, the elixir of life, the way to manufacture gold. And, at the same -time, there is no other sufficient reason for the extreme poverty which -the poet had fallen into. - -The two Roundels and the Virelai have been asserted and denied to be the -work of Chaucer, but there is no clear evidence for either side. They may -well be a portion of those many lost 'ditties and songs glad' with which -Gower said 'the land fulfilled is over all,' written 'in the floures of -his youth.' The second Roundel seems, on the other hand, to belong to his -later life, when he so often alluded to his corpulence. As to the Virelai, -this species of lyric was nery fashionable in Chaucer's time. It is -skilful work, each stanza rhyming six lines together (which I have failed -to follow in the translation). - - -Good Counsel of Chaucer. - - Fle fro the pres, and duelle with sothfastnesse, mob, honesty - Suffice the thy good, though hit be smale, thee, it - For horde hath hate, and clymbyng tikelnesse, hoards, - uncertainty - Pres hath envye, and wele is blent over alle. deceived - everywhere - Savour no more then the behove shalle; taste - Rede[199] well thy self, that other folke canst rede, - And trouthe the shal delyver, hit ys no drede. without fear - - Peyne the not eche croked to redresse, - In trust of hire that turneth as a balle,[200] - Grete rest stant in lytel besynesse. great peace lies, - meddling - Bewar also to spurne ayein an nalle,[201] awl - Stryve not as doth a croke[202] with a walle: crock - Deme[203] thyselfe that demest others dede, - And trouthe the shal delyver, hit ys no drede. - - That the ys sent receyve in buxomnesse, - The wrasteling of this world asketh a falle; - Her is no home, her is but wyldyrnesse. here - Forth, pilgrime!--forth, best, out of thy stalle! beast - Loke up on hye, and thonke God of alle! - Weyve thy lust, and let thy goste the lede, give up, desire - And trouthe shal the delyver, hit ys no drede. - - - Fly from the crowd, and dwell with truthfulness - Contented with thy good, though it be small; - Treasure breeds hate, and climbing dizziness, - The world is envious, wealth beguiles us all. - Care not for loftier things than to thee fall; - Counsel thyself, who counsel'st others' need, - And truth thee shall deliver, without dread. - - Pain thee not all the crooked to redress, - Trusting to her who turneth as a ball, - For little meddling wins much easiness. - Beware lest thou do kick against an awl, - Strive not as doth a clay pot with a wall: - Judge thou thyself, who judgest others' deed, - And truth thee shall deliver, without dread. - - All that is given take with cheerfulness, - To wrestle in this world is to ask a fall; - Here is no home, here is but wilderness. - Forth, pilgrim, forth!--forth, beast, out of thy stall! - Look up on high, and thank thy God for all! - Cast by ambition, let thy soul thee led, - And truth thee shall deliver, without dread. - - -Notes by the Way. - -We have Mr. F. J. Furnivall's authority, as well as internal evidence, for -believing that this pathetic little poem expresses Chaucer's feelings at -the time of his expulsion from the Customs offices, the beginning of his -period of misfortunes, and was written immediately after the calamity. We -seem to gather scattered hints of recent 'wrestlings' before the blow -came--vain attempts to elevate, and purify, and carry out reforms, to make -straight crooked paths. Lost labour--_pain thee not all the crooked to -redress!_--trusting to fortune (money being requisite to reform): for -those who value peace of mind should let sleeping dogs lie. We seem to -catch the echoes of stormy times, of personal recrimination, envy, hatred, -and malice, against a 'climbing' man, protected by Court favour for many -prosperous years, but at length within the reach of foes when that -protection waxed powerless. Chaucer may, like many another man, have made -no enemies till he was high enough to stand in some one's light, -prosperous enough to be dangerous; but his month of power in Parliament -ruined him. It is pretty certain that some vote of his, while sitting for -Kent, caused his dismissal from office. It was a case of win all or lose -all, and he lost. To fight against such odds were as idle as undignified: -surely, indeed, but courting worse injuries, 'kicking against an awl.' -When the weak and the strong strive together, it is the weak who suffers. -The criticism upon others, which had failed to do good, were now best -turned philosophically upon himself. That which the fountain gave forth -returns again to the fountain, as a poet 500 years later has said. It is -impossible, in reading these melancholy and stately lines, not to feel -that they ring true, and betray the half-sarcastic disappointment of a -well-meaning man, the resignation of a religious man, and the faith in -right-dealing bringing its own reward of a thoroughly honest man. - -It is probable that the loss to Chaucer in a pecuniary sense was very -severe; and the suddenness of the blow may account for much of his after -poverty.[204] The loss may have come at a time when he had debts which it -would be very hard to pay out of a diminished income--debts which may have -hampered his whole after-life. His appointment of a deputy to the office -of Clerk of the King's Works, in 1391, and his subsequent resignation of -the office, appear to me to hint at ill-health, as may his death a year -after getting his lease for fifty-three years of the tenement in -Westminster, where he died. - -The last verse of this poem is the most remarkable of the three. Full of -just contempt for his enemies' aspersions, and of hearty trust in the -power of truth to set things right, he rises suddenly into a passion of -aspiration. Trying to be content with adversity, he is angry with himself -for feeling it so deeply. To wrestle in this world is but courting an -overthrow. But this is not our Home, this is but a desert leading to a -higher state. Forth, pilgrim! gird up thy loins with fresh vigour to -journey on. Forth, pilgrim! _forth, beast, out of the stall_ of narrow -hopes and interests! look higher, and thank thy God for all. To cast by -all the soul's lets and hindrances--to be led by the higher self--that is -the pilgrim's longing, and that is the sublimest hope of the human heart. - - - - -NOTES ON THE PICTURES. - - -I.--FRONTISPIECE. - -The costumes of the Knight, Squire, Prioress and Nun, Monk, Friar, Clerk -(represented by Chaucer himself), Franklin, the Wife of Bath, the -Summoner, and his friend the smart Pardoner, Mine Host and the boy, have -been respectively studied from MSS. of the period. The attire of the -Knight is open to criticism, for the amount of armour he wears is -certainly more than he need wear on so peaceful an errand; but a portion -of his well-used plate may be permitted him if only to distinguish the man -of war from the numerous men of peace in the train. - -The chain-mail, worn under the plate, would, I think, most probably have -been retained by the Knight during his pilgrimage. The numerous miniatures -of mailed knights journeying for no sinister purpose, appear to me to -prove that it was very constantly worn. Unlike the mail which preceded it, -the Asiatic kind which came into use in the twelfth century was -comparatively light, being formed of slight rings interlaced, and not -riveted upon leather. The hood of mail, which hangs on his shoulders, -would have been no inconvenience at all. It joined the habergeon of mail, -over which was his gipon, 'stained,' probably, by the rubbing of his -mailed arms. - -If, however, it be objected that the gipon was often an under garment -(_vide_ Meyrick, vol. ii. pp. 20 and 21), we may suppose him to have left -a heavy hauberk of plate behind him in London 'till called for.' - -Prioresses and nuns are often depicted in violet, in the contemporary -MSS.; I therefore preferred that colour as more agreeable than black. -Gloves such as the Nun's, were occasionally worn in the fourteenth -century; the present example is taken from the effigy of William of -Colchester, Abbot of Westminster, d. 1420. Gloves of fur, for winter wear, -were common in the reign of Henry III. - -The harness of the horses, bells and saddles, the Nun's chest, the -Summoner's cake (probably ornamental gingerbread), and other details, have -also been carefully studied from MSS. and tapestries of the time. - -The boy's whip is taken from several fourteenth century and earlier -drawings of horse-whips and whips for tops, and was therefore probably a -common form. - -The distant city is not necessarily London, as I failed to find a -contemporary view of old London. The present sketch is borrowed from a -fine MS. of Lydgate's poem, the 'Storie of Thebes' (MS. Reg. 18 D. ii.), -and gives a good notion of the general look of a mediaeval town. - -Chaucer's portrait here was originally from the painting in the Harl. MS. -4866. I have no excuse to offer for changing the colour of Chaucer's gown -from the grey or black in which Occleve always represented him to green, a -very common colour at the time, except that it looked better in the -picture, and we have no right to assume that Chaucer, even in his poorest -days, had only one gown. - - -II.--DINNER IN THE OLDEN TIME. - -The ordinary dinner-table or 'festive _board_' in a Franklin's or -burgher's house has been taken from numerous fourteenth century -illustrations. (_Vide_ MS. Reg. 2 B. viii., and MS. Imp. Lib. Paris, No. -7210, &c.) - -The carver, cupbearer, the fishbones left on the table in the absence of -plates, the trenchers or slices of stale bread or buns used in lieu of -them, and the other objects upon the table, are faithful copies from the -MSS. - -A minstrel was constantly employed to make music during the repast. The -instrument here introduced is the cittern, played with or without a -plectrum or quill. Behind are the servitors bringing in a pasty, some -small birds on spits, and the nef or ship, containing salt, liqueurs, -spices, or towel, &c., for washing the hands--or, if you like, it is a -_sotelte_ in the form of a ship. A subtlety was an ornamental dish that -usually closed each course, made in some fanciful form, such as a castle, -ship, or animal. - -The dogs are munching the waste victuals under the table--such dogs being -usually admitted during meals. - -The pattern on the tablecloth is derived from a hunting-horn of the -fourteenth century. - -The peculiar folds at the sides of the tablecloth, which appear in many -MSS., must, I think, have been purposely made for ornament, as we -sometimes still see waiters crease cloths in various devices. - -The sweet herbs strewn on the floor denote summer-time, in -contradistinction to straw, which was used in the winter. - - -III.--LADY CROSSING STREET. - -The background of shops and other buildings is borrowed mainly from the -decapitation of G. de Pommiers at Bordeaux in 1377 (Froissart's Chronicle, -No. 2644, Bibl. Imp. de Paris). - -The costumes are those of middle-class persons. The clogs were in vogue -with the long-toed boots. - -Some of the streets were paved with large round stones, as in many French -towns at the present day; others were not paved at all, and were, during -wet weather, many feet deep with mud. An open channel or sewer ran along -the midroad, which did not greatly add to the felicity of 'a walk down -Fleet Street.' - - -IV.--FAIR EMELYE. - -Emelye's garb is that common to the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries--a -simple form with double sleeves. It will be remembered that Palamon -mistook Emelye at first sight for a goddess; Arcite perceived her to be -human. I have endeavoured to give the two men's views of her--each quite -possible according to her position in the garden. Palamon may have caught -sight of her just at a turn where the dazzle of sunrise behind the tree -would be certain to lend a kind of halo to the outline of a head against -it. An instant afterwards Emelye may have moved aside, the false halo -disappearing, and she would seem what she truly was, simply an attractive -maiden. - -It is disappointing to find how very few were the flowers that adorned a -mediaeval garden. Our handsomest flowers were of course unknown--_e.g._, -the immense catalogue of plants introduced from America and elsewhere. -Many that 'have had their day and ceased to be' in fashion, were as yet -unknown too; such as the sunflower, which was imported about the sixteenth -century. The red and white may, the dogrose, primrose, and the flowers -that we banish to the kitchen garden or admire only in the fields, formed -the chief ornaments. We find nettles and nightshade reckoned among garden -plants; the dandelion, which appears in the place of honour in many old -tapestries, was then counted as a flower. - -The big round tower is one of the chain of fortresses linked by a solid -wall running around the domain, from one of which the captive knights saw -Emelye, her garden being within the walls, and, as the castle was -generally built on an eminence, on higher ground than the flat country -beyond. - -Shining yellow in the sun-rise light is a conventional view of a city--the -city of Athens, which Palamon and Arcite could see from their prison -window. - - -V.--GRISELDA'S MARRIAGE. - -The huts where poor persons lived were, of course, very rude, and lacked -windows, doors, or chimneys. Orifices in the roof or sides served these -purposes. The dirt from the smoke upon walls and ceiling was consequently -considerable. The draught beasts dwelt with their owners, much as the -Hibernian pig resides with Pat and his family. - -The hairy hat surmounting the hood came into use during the fourteenth -century, and was made of skins, dressed fur outward. - -Griselda's raggedness must not be construed into slovenliness. Needles -were not as accessible to the mass of the poor as they are now; and -moreover, the poor not being then compulsorily educated, an honest, -industrious girl who could work in the fields and spin, was not always -able to darn. - - -VI.--GRISELDA'S BEREAVEMENT. - -It is expressly stated that when her child was taken from her Griselda -controlled her feelings, and did not so much as sigh. The sergeant finds -her in her chamber, or bower, more private than the hall, and more -luxuriously furnished. She is sitting in one of the high-backed chairs -which usually stood near the bed's head (_vide_ various fourteenth century -MSS.)--possibly a _Prie-Dieu_--raised on a dais. - -Her dress is simple, but that of the upper classes in Edward III.'s reign, -lined with vair, and having long tippets from the sleeves knotted for -convenience; her hair adorned with 'bends' or silken straps, and a gold -head-dress. Her distaff is still at hand, and the full basket betokens her -continued industry. Floor-carpets or mats, embroidered or woven, were rare -at this time, and could only have been in use in a wealthy house; but they -are occasionally spoken of in early MSS. In 'Gautier d'Aupais' an old lady -is described as sitting on a richly-worked counterpoint, by a coal fire; -but this may have been a cloth flung over a chair; and in the romance of -'Queen Berthe' three persons are said to sit on carpets (_sur les tapis_). - -It will be remembered that the dagger was frequently used with the left -hand. - - -VII.--DORIGEN AND AURELIUS. - -The parti-coloured dress worn by Aurelius, similar to the Squire's in the -frontispiece, was common in Edward III.'s reign, and was peculiarly -obnoxious to the satirists of the day. The cote-hardie or close-fitting -tunic sometimes matched in colour one of the legs, sometimes was divided -into halves of opposing colours; the shoes were very rich and of contrary -hues also. - -The ladies' gowns were long and of very rich materials, the arms bound -with gold, and further adorned by fantastic streamers or tippets. Chess -was the fashionable pastime of old and young. The pieces in this picture -are from some ivory Icelandic chessmen of the twelfth century. - -Behind is the lawn where Dorigen's _meinie_, or pages and household -attendants, are amusing themselves with dancing and ball-playing among the -enclosed flower-beds peculiar to the mediaeval pleasure-garden. - -The coat of arms repeated upon Aurelius' dress is that attributed to -Chaucer. The instrument, on which he doubtless accompanied his mournful -love-songs, is a form of cittern. The carved design upon the settle or -seat is Anglo-Saxon; the _fleur de lys_ on the curtain of the tent beside -them was a common ornament. - -I have not been able to discover at what precise date 'shot' materials -came into use. There are many singular terms applied to the colours of -dress throughout the middle ages, such as _pourpre-gris_, -_ecarlate-blanche_, &c. In the 'Fabliau de Gautier d'Aupais' there is -mention of '_un vert mantel porprine_' (a mantle of green crimson). In my -own mind I am persuaded that these terms, explicable easily in no other -way, refer to shot materials. Mediaeval miniatures and pictures also bear -out this theory, dresses being depicted of certain colours shaded with -certain others in strong contrast. The commonest is blue or red shaded -with gold. There have been many conjectures with regard to the above -terms. M. le Grand supposes that rare dyes, being chiefly used to dye rich -cloths, gave at last their names to those cloths, irrespective of colour. -The _Saturday Review_ once accused the old masters of "sporting with -pigments prismatically" when they used red as the shadow of green, &c., -oblivious of the fact that if the early masters had a fault it was -adhering too blindly to nature in their works. It is clear that in Quentin -Matsys' day (fifteenth century) shot materials were quite common, for -there is scarcely one of his pictures without a study of the kind. In his -'Dead Christ' at Antwerp several unmistakable examples occur; in his -'Virgin' at Amsterdam is introduced a curtain of green and brown shot. -This being so, we have no reasonable ground for believing that shot silks, -though not yet common, were unknown a century earlier. - -I have therefore given two marked examples of similar silks, in the robes -of Griselda and Dorigen, both wealthy enough to import such fabrics if in -existence at all. - - -VIII.--THE RIOTER. - -The ordinary cheap wine used in the middle ages was often carried in -'bottles' or pitchers of this form. - -A longish gown was the dress of the commoner people in the fourteenth -century. The Rioter is intended to represent a man of decent position, but -not noble, who has come to the end of his tether, in a pecuniary sense, -and whose slovenly hose and young but debauched and cruel face indicate -with what facility he has been degraded by his elder companions. - - -PORTRAIT OF CHAUCER. - -Chaucer's portrait is copied from a drawing by Occleve the poet (Brit. -Mus. Harl. MS. 4866). Occleve made, or caused to be made, shortly after -Chaucer's death, several portraits of him, of which two remain; and on -these are founded the many now scattered over the country. The same -features recur in all. The peculiar aquiline nose, mouth a little -drooping, eyes downcast, the forked beard and fair complexion, the broad -round jaw, are the same in all. Occleve always depicted Chaucer with a -rosary in his hand, and his penner, containing his pen and inkhorn, -hanging to his vest. His hands are small and well-shapen, his form is -portly, his air calm, benevolent, almost pathetic. - -These lines run beside the miniature in Occleve's MS.:-- - - Al thogh his lyfe be queynt, the resemblaunce extinguished - Of him hath in me so fressh lyflynesse liveliness - That to putte othir men in remembraunce - Of his persone I have heere his lyknesse likeness - Do make, to this end in sothfastnesse, had made - (_faire faire_), - truth - That thei that have of him lest thought and mynde lost - By this peynture may ageyn him fynde. painting - - - Although his life be quench'd, so clear doth lie - Within my mind the living look of him, - That to put other men in memory - Of his appearance, here his face I limn, - That they to whom his image groweth dim, - And they that have of him lost thought and mind, - By this poor portrait may again him find. - -The portraits by Occleve, his personal friend and disciple, whose deep -affection for Chaucer is touchingly reiterated in his 'Lament' for him, -maybe relied on as most conscientious pictures from memory of the great -poet's habitual appearance. - - -Notes on the Woodcuts. - -THE TOURNAMENT. (See Title-page.)--There must always have been, to some -extent, a grotesque element in the Tournament. The desire to be -conspicuous forced the combatants to assume the gayest and the biggest -decoration. At a later date the tilting helmets sprouted into the most -preposterous sizes and shapes. Figures and 'favours' assumed for the -occasion, the gifts of enthusiastic lady-loves, as well as hereditary -devices, surmounted the helm and glittered on coat-armour and harness. In -Edward III.'s reign the beauty and _eclat_ of the tourney was in its -zenith; in Richard II.'s the beautiful began to be overpowered by the -grotesque. I have tried to tone down the grotesque as much as may be, but -a general dazzle and confusion of colour is inseparable from the scene, -vivid, violent, and exciting as it was. Tents were often erected within -the pale of the lists for the convenience of those awaiting or _hors de -combat_. Shields or targets, for _peace_ or _war_, were suspended in -couples before them, emblazoned with the arms of each lord; and whoso sent -to touch the targets was tilted with according to his wish--_i.e._, with -sharp or blunt lances. - -The end of Theseus' tourney was clearly a riot, but I have preferred to -represent the orderly onset of the first combatants, guided by a MS. -Froissart of the fifteenth century. It has been suggested to me that it -would be impossible to tilt across the bar unless the spear-arm were next -the bar, as the horse's neck would impede the stroke, and the rider's own -spear would unhorse him: in tent-pegging and all sports with the lance the -rider brings his spear-arm next the mark. But having found several early -miniatures in which the spear is aimed as here given, I considered myself -justified in trusting to contemporary MSS. in spite of modern theories. - -The horses were the chief sufferers in these mimic frays. The heavy -beasts, protected as they were by a great weight of armour, were often -injured. The best-trained dreaded the shock of encounter, and, as we read -in Froissart, their restiveness and swerving at the last moment frequently -spoiled the 'course,' despite the most violent spurring, to their masters' -deep chagrin and disappointment, and the disgust of the lady-loves. - -The high saddles, sometimes locking the rider in his seat all round, were -constructed to retain him on his horse, however violent the push; but they -were the cause of many an unhappy accident. Death like Arcite's, from -crushing against the saddle-bow, was by no means uncommon. So died William -the Conqueror himself four hundred years before; when, riding down the -steep street of Mantes, his horse stumbled among the embers he had -kindled. (See Green's Short History of the English People, p. 85.) - -Suffocation in the dust was a still more frequent cause of death; as -thrown riders could not rise, nor rid themselves of their ponderous -casques. - -Skill rather than strength was needful in tilting. The spear, as in -pig-sticking in India, was thrust rather by the weight of the horse than -by the weight of the arm. Strength of back and arm were necessary to avoid -being bent backwards or driven over the crupper; but extreme skill was -requisite to hit one's slippery foe with anything like force. When both -knights hit their mark so that fire flew from their helmets, without -either falling, it was reckoned a 'handsome course.' - -A word about the allans, as big as bullocks, which went leaping around -Lycurgus' car. They were undoubtedly a kind of mastiff, large and -powerful; they wore gold collars filled with _torettz_. This word is -variously explained. _Torete_, ring-turret (Morris), ring or terret -(Bell). '_Toret_, a small wimble (or auger, big gimblet). Touret, a drill, -&c.' (Cotgrave). '_Gros clou dont la tete arrondie est arretee dans une -branche d'un mors_' (Suppl. to Fr. Acad. Dict.). - -I have ventured on translating 'toret' _spike_, after vainly seeking for -authority for a collar filled with rings; though a single ring often hung -beneath the throat. Contemporary illustrations of dogs' collars filled -with long spikes are common enough--_e.g._ the fine fourteenth century -tapestry now in the museum at Chartres, &c. - -In India dogs are furnished with spiked collars in tiger and boar hunting: -the allans were clearly hunting dogs, and such spiked collars would thus -be almost indispensable. - -JOHN OF GAUNT, Royal Coll. 20 B. 6. (See page 7.)--This portrait has an -air of truth about it; in the MS. it is very carefully and delicately -worked. The gown is of a reddish murrey colour, with ermine or miniver -lining to skirt and sleeves, the under sleeves being blue. His hose are -red, and he wears a golden circlet, necklace, and belt. One can trace some -resemblance to Edward III., his father, in the long, narrow, but not -unpleasing face. Other portraits of John of Gaunt have the same features. -The hair and beard are grey. He appears to be respectfully lecturing the -young King Richard, who is seated on his throne, receiving a book -presented by a monk, in the presence of his three royal uncles. - -SHIP. (See page 8.)--How such ships could sail is a mystery, but this is -the most usual anatomy for a man-of-war, or for a 'subtlety' at dinner in -the form of a ship. I copied the present example from a MS. in the British -Museum: it is one of a royal fleet. There is a Nef introduced in the -famous 'Nancy' tapestry (fifteenth century) of precisely the same -construction. - -STYLUS. (See page 10.)--The stylus was used for writing on waxen tablets. -No doubt wax was cheaper and more easily procured than parchment or paper; -paper made from rags being then quite a recent invention, and probably -what was made was not white but brown, and imported from abroad. Wax could -be dissolved and used again. Hence we find, in the romance of 'Flor and -Blanchflor,' the king putting children to school, where they learned to -write - - Letres et vers d'amors en cire, - Lor greffes sont d'or et d'argent. - - - Letters and verses of love on the wax. - Their styles are of gold and silver. - -THE YEOMAN. (See page 21.)--The term 'not-head' used by Chaucer may mean -that he had his hair closely cropped--a head like a nut--as suggested by -Tyrwhitt, &c.; but I think, on the contrary, it refers to his hood having -the liripipe knotted around it, as there are numerous instances of such -hoods worn by foresters, hunters, and others, to whom a long tail would be -a nuisance, if not actually dangerous. The woodcut of a knotted hood, on -p. 2, is that of a forester, in the Book of Gaston Phoebus, fourteenth -century, in the National Library of Paris. Chaucer says the miller wore -his 'typet ybounde about his heed' ('Reeve's Tale,' line 33). - -THE PRIORESS. (See page 22.)--Her costume (same as in Frontispiece) is -borrowed from an Abbess or Prioress in a MS. of the History of the -Emperors (Lib. of the Arsenal), fifteenth century. - -THE MONK. (See page 24.)--From Royal MS. 14 E. 4, temp. Ed. IV.: too late, -indeed, but it appears that the clerical costume had suffered no great -change. - -THE CLERK. (See page 27.)--The figure of the Clerk possesses peculiar -interest, as it represents one of those ancient artists whose paintings in -mediaeval MSS. are so valuable to us now. His name is Alan Strayler, a -designer and painter, and his dress is that of an ordinary middle-class -man; it will be seen to be precisely similar to Chaucer's, who was himself -a 'clerk.' - -THE SERJEANT AT LAW. (See page 28.)--It is curious that the mantle of this -figure, whose dress is taken from two effigies of Chief Justices of the -King's Bench in the fourteenth century, should recall the Roman toga, -being apparently fastened over the hood, on the right shoulder, so as to -leave that arm completely free: an instance of the conservatism of -official dress, which alters very little with the fluctuations of fashion, -whilst those persons whose costume denotes no position are constantly -undergoing protean changes. - -THE DOCTOR. (See page 29.)--The medical man is as much too early as the -monk is too late, but it was the most characteristic one I could find, and -I preferred thirteenth century to fifteenth century costume. The mantle -recalls the Roman toga. (Copy from Sloane Coll. No. 1975.) - -THE PARSON. (See page 30.)--See a brass of John Islyngton, vicar of -Islington, in Norfolk, in 1393. The dress of a plain parish priest is not -often represented: it will be seen to be not dissimilar to that of a -modern French priest. - -THE PLOUGHMAN.--(See page 31.)--Studied from figures in a very ancient -Anglo-Saxon MS. It appears to me that the liripipe (evidently then worn) -is in this case twisted around the head. - -THE PARDONER. (See page 31.)--The Pardoner may have worn the ordinary -clerkly gown, or, as in the Frontispiece, a close-fitting garb. Chaucer -does not describe his attire, but says he thought himself 'al of the newe -get' (_i.e._, fashion). - - - - -PRINCIPAL AUTHORITIES CONSULTED IN THIS BOOK. - - -Sir S. Meyrick, 'Antient Armour.' - -Lacroix, 'Manners, Customs, and Dress during the Middle Ages,' &c., &c. - -Skeat, 'Chaucer,' &c. - -Morris, 'Chaucer' (Aldine edition), 1866, and 'Chaucer' (Clarendon Press), -1874. - -Tyrwhitt's 'Chaucer.' - -Bell's edition of 'Chaucer's Poetical Works.' - -Fairholt, 'Costume in England.' - -Wright, 'Domestic Manners during the Middle Ages,' and 'Womankind in -Western Europe.' - -Froissart's 'Chronicles.' - -Planche, 'British Costume.' - -Shaw, 'Dresses and Decorations,' 'Ornaments,' &c. - -Furnivall, 'Babee's Book,' and 'Trial Forewords' (Chaucer Society), &c. - -'Arthur of Britayn.' - -Six-Text Edition of Chaucer's 'Canterbury Tales.' - -Bonnard & Mercurj, 'Costumes des XIIIe, XIVe, et XVe Siecles,' 1840. - -Le Grand, 'Fabliaux et Contes du XIIe et du XIIIe Siecle,' 1781. - -Barbazan, 'Fabliaux et Contes,' 1808. - - -Printed by McCorquodale & Co. Limited, "The Armoury," Southwark. - - - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] I use the word 'emphasis' in the same sense as one might speak of a -_crotchet_ in music, to which you count two, being more emphatic than a -_quaver_, to which you count one. - -[2] Those who wish to study systematically the grammar, and construction -of the metre, I can only refer to the best authorities, Dr. R. Morris and -Mr. Skeat, respectively. It would be superfluous to enter on these matters -in the present volume. - -[3] "No better MS. of the 'Canterbury Tales' could be found than the -Harleian MS. 7334, which is far more uniform and accurate than any other I -have examined; it has therefore been selected, and faithfully adhered to -throughout, as the text of the present edition. Many clerical errors and -corrupt readings have been corrected by collating it, line for line, with -the Lansdowne MS. 851, which, notwithstanding its provincial -peculiarities, contains many excellent readings, some of which have been -adopted in preference to the Harleian MS." (Preface to Morris's Revised -Ed. 1866.) This method I have followed when I have ventured to change a -word or sentence, in which case I have, I believe, invariably given my -authority. - -[4] Roger Ascham. - -[5] Mr. Furnivall, among some of his recent interesting researches anent -Chaucer, has discovered with certainty his father's name and profession. - -[6] The position of Chaucer, and his wife, in the King's service, and that -of the latter in the service of Constance, Duchess of Lancaster, shared -with two ladies of rank, be well as their lifelong interest at Court, -prove, I think, that neither of them was of mean parentage, and that they -occupied a very good social _status_. - -[7] See also p. 19, note 34. - -[8] It must not be forgotten, in reading praises of warm and sunny May, -often now a bleak and chilly month, that the seasons were a fortnight -later at that time, May-day coming therefore in the middle of the month, -and May ending in the middle of June. The change in the almanac was made -in Italy in 1582, in England in 1752. - -[9] Dr. Morris writes--"The old supposition that the Philippa whom Chaucer -married was the daughter of Sir Paon de Roet (a native of Hainault and -King of Arms of Guienne), and sister to Katherine, widow of Sir Hugh -Swynford, successively governess, mistress, and wife of John of Gaunt, -Duke of Lancaster, was founded on heraldic grounds. The Roet arms were -adopted by Thomas Chaucer. Then Thomas Chaucer was made (without the -slightest evidence) Geoffrey's son, and Philippa Roet was then made -Geoffrey's wife." And again, "It is possible that Philippa Chaucer was a -relative or namesake of Geoffrey, and that he married her in the spring or -early summer of 1374." It is, however, much less likely that there were so -many Chaucers about the Court, unconnected with each other, than that the -common supposition is correct. At any rate, _until there is any evidence -to the contrary_, this tradition may be fairly accepted. The recent -discovery, in the Record Office, of Thomas Chaucer's deed, by Mr. Hunter, -sealed with a seal bearing the legend, 'S Ghofrai Chaucer,' seems to -support the tradition. - -[10] A mark was 13_s._ 4_d._ of our money, but the buying power of money -was eight or ten times greater than at present. So that, although ten -marks was only L6 12_s._ of our currency, it was fully equal to L50. - -[11] There are entries mentioning Philippa Chaucer in 1366, 1372, and -1374. The former names her as one of the ladies of the bedchamber to Queen -Philippa, who conferred the annuity of ten marks in September, 1366. In -1372 John of Gaunt conferred on Philippa Chaucer an annuity of L10 (equal -to L100). Her name is mentioned when the grant to Chaucer of a pitcher of -wine daily is commuted into money payment, June 13, 1374, by John of Gaunt -(again a pension of L10), for good services rendered by the Chaucers to -the said Duke, his consort, and his mother the Queen. - -[12] Green was the favourite colour of the time. - -[13] _Astrolabe_: a machine used at sea to measure the distances of stars. -The quadrant now in use has superseded the astrolabe. - -[14] Thomas Chaucer was born in or about 1367, and died in 1434. Elizabeth -Chaucer's noviciate was paid for by John of Gaunt in 1381. If Elizabeth -Chaucer was about 16 in 1381 she would have been born about 1365; and, -therefore, as far as dates are concerned, either Thomas or Elizabeth may -well have been elder children of the poet: the chances being that he -married in 1361-64. Moreover, John of Gaunt's interest in both of these -persons, Thomas Chaucer and Elizabeth Chaucer, gives this a colour of -probability. At the same time Chaucer seems to have been no uncommon name. - -Chaucer's exceptional notice of his little son Lewis who must have been -born in 1381, the year of Elizabeth's novitiate, since Chaucer describes -him as being ten years old in his treatise on the astrolabe in 1391, may -have been due to the appearance of a 'Benjamin' rather late in life. - -[15] On the hypothesis, of course, that Chaucer married a Roet. - -[16] For many new and curious facts about Chaucer, see my _Chaucer for -Schools_, "Chaucer's Court Life and Position." - -[17] In these cases, the sum received on the marriage of the ward was -legally a fine on the marriage. - -[18] See Chambers's Encyclopaedia, 'Chaucer'. - -[19] See _Chaucer for Schools_, p. 22, for further details. - -[20] I have assumed that Thomas Chaucer was Geoffrey Chaucer's son, as -there is no proof to the contrary, and a probability in point of dates -that he was. - -[21] See 'Notes by the Way,' p. 103. - -[22] See _Chaucer for Schools_. - -[23] Remembering the discussion raised as to the year of Chaucer's birth, -coupled with the tradition of his venerable looks, we may suggest that in -those days men were older at sixty than now. The average duration of life -was shorter, and the paucity of comforts probably told on appearance. - -[24] Author of the 'Testament of Love.' - -[25] Alluding to the numerous dialects in use in England at the time. - -[26] The mother should here read to the child some lines with the proper -pronunciation: see Preface, pp. x., xi. - -[27] _Zephyrus_, or Zephyr: the god of the west wind. It is become a name -for the wind of summer. - -[28] Pilgrims who have brought a palm branch from the Holy Land. - -[29] _Kouthe_: past participle of the verb conne, to know, or to be able. -It was used much as _savoir_ is in French--to be able to do, to know how -to do a thing. The verse means 'To serve the saints they could, or they -knew of, or knew how to serve.' - -[30] Thomas Beket, Chancellor of Henry II. He was Archbishop of Canterbury -for eight years, and was murdered by servants of the King in 1170. He was -canonized, or made a saint, by the Pope, after his death, and pilgrimages -were then constantly made to his tomb in Canterbury Cathedral. In those -days it was usual in sickness or peril to vow a pilgrimage to the shrine -of some saint who was supposed to be able to help people by interceding -with God, when pilgrims prayed him to. Erasmus alludes to the quantities -of offerings on Thomas Beket's shrine, given by those who believed the -saint had healed or helped them. - -[31] A tabard was an outer coat without sleeves, worn by various classes, -but best known as the coat worn over the armour (see p. 48), whereon there -were signs and figures embroidered by which to recognize a man in war or -tournament: for the face was hidden by the helmet, and it was easier to -detect a pattern in bright colours than engraved in dark steel. So, of -course, the pattern represented the arms used by him. And thus the tabard -got to be called the _coat of arms_. Old families still possess what they -call their coat of arms, representing the device chosen by their ancestors -in the lists; but they do not wear it any more: it is only a copy of the -pattern on paper. A _crest_ was also fastened to the helmet for the same -purpose of recognition, and there is usually a 'crest' still surmounting -the modern 'coat of arms.' The inn where Chaucer slept was simply named -after the popular garment. It, or at least a very ancient inn on its site, -was recently standing, and known as the Talbot Inn, High Street, Borough: -Talbot being an evident corruption of Tabard. We may notice here, that the -Ploughman, described later on, wears a tabard, which may have been a kind -of blouse or smock-frock, but was probably similar in form to the knight's -tabard. - -[32] People were glad to travel in parties for purposes of safety, the -roads were so bad and robbers so numerous. - -[33] Probably all or many occupied but one bedroom, and they became -acquainted on retiring to rest, at the ordinary time--sunset. - -[34] The word Knight (knecht) really means _servant_. The ancient knights -attended on the higher nobles and were their _servants_, fighting under -them in battle. For as there was no regular army, when a war broke out -everybody who could bear arms engaged himself to fight under some king or -lord, anywhere, abroad or in England, and was paid for his services. That -was how hundreds of nobly born men got their living--the only way they -could get it. This is what the knight Arviragus does in the 'Franklin's -Tale;' leaving his bride, to win honour (and money) by fighting wherever -he could. - -The _squire_ waited on the knight much as the knight did on the earl--much -in the position of an aide-de-camp of the present day. The _page_ served -earl, knights, ladies. But knight, squire, and page were all honourable -titles, and borne by noblemen's sons. The page was often quite a boy, and -when he grew older changed his duties for those of squire, till he was -permitted to enter the knighthood. The present knight is described as -being in a lord's service, and fighting under him 'in his war,' but he was -a man held in the highest honour. - -[35] See p. 48 and Appendix, p. 107. - -[36] "On nommait _Bacheliers_ les chevaliers pauvres, les _bas Chevaliers_ -... quand ceux-ci avaient recu la chevalerie, on les appelait -Chevaliers-Bacheliers ... quant a l'Ecuyer (Squire) c'etait le pretendant -a la Chevalerie."--LE GRAND, _Fabliaux & Contes_. - -[37] _Chivachie_: military expeditions. - -[38] See page 45, note 96. - -[39] Mr. Bell considers that these two lines refer to the squire's -complexion of red and white. Speght thinks it means freckled. But there is -little doubt that the material of his dress is what Chaucer means, for -there is no other instance of Chaucer calling a complexion _embroidered_, -and gorgeously flowered fabrics embroidered with the needle were peculiar -to the period and in common use. - -[40] As it was the custom for sons to do. - -[41] Peacocks' feathers on them instead of swans'. - -[42] It was a sign of the yeoman's carefulness in his business that they -stuck out from the shaft instead of drooping. - -[43] _Bracer_: a leathern defence for the arm: a similar shield is now -worn in archery. - -[44] _Bokeler_--buckler: a small shield--used chiefly for a warder to -catch the blow of an adversary. Some pictures show the buckler to have -been only the size of a plate, but it varied. In comparing the Wife of -Bath's hat to a buckler, Chaucer could not have meant so small a one. It -was usual for serving men of noble families to carry swords and bucklers -when in attendance on them. - -[45] _Bawdrik_--baldrick: ornamented strap to suspend the horn or dagger. - -[46] Oaths were only too common among ladies as well as men. It was an -exceptional refinement to use only a small oath. Tyrwhitt prints the name -of the saint, Eloy, contraction of Eligius--a saint who, having been a -worker in metals, was often invoked by smiths (see 'Friar's Tale'), &c.; -but Dr. Morris says St. Loy is the old spelling of St. Louis of France, by -whom the Prioress swore. - -[47] Bell approves reading _voice_ for nose, as Speght has actually done. -It has not struck either of them that Chaucer is all the way through -laughing at the fastidious and rather over-attractive nun! - -[48] Knives and forks were not in use--people had to use their fingers; -but some used them more agreeably than others. - -[49] At meals one cup for drinking passed from guest to guest, instead of -each having his own glass, as now. It was considered polite to wipe one's -mouth well before drinking, so that the next drinker should find no grease -in the wine. The great stress Chaucer lays on the pretty nun's courtesy -seems to hint at very dirty habits among ordinary folk at meals! - -[50] Mr. Bell naively points out the innocence and 'ignorance of the ways -of the world,' which pervade the whole of the 'simple Prioress's -character;' but you will notice that in laughing at the cheerful nun's -affectation of court manners, Chaucer never once gives her credit for very -high or noble character, though he does not speak ill-naturedly. I have -ere now alluded to his dislike of the Church, friars, nuns, and all -included: and here he shows that her charitableness and compassion were -spent on wholly inadequate objects. She is extravagant to the last degree -in feeding her dogs, and weeping for dead mice; but nothing is said of -charity to the poor, or any good works at all. She is too intent on -fascinating everybody, and dressing smartly. There is sharp sarcasm in all -this. - -[51] _Wastel breed_--a kind of cake--the most expensive of all bread. - -[52] _Wimple_: a loose covering for the neck, close up to the chin, -plaited daintily; worn especially by nuns. - -[53] A rosary, the coral beads of which were divided by smaller ones, or -gauds, of a green colour. - -[54] 'Love conquers all things.' The Prioress might have twisted this -device to refer to the text, 'The greatest of these is charity;' but the -_double entendre_ is apparent. - -[55] From a French phrase, _bone pur la maistrie_ = good to excel all -others. The monk bids fair to excel all others or outstrip the rest in -promotion, on account of his worldliness. - -[56] "The custom of hanging small bells on the bridle and harness of -horses is still observed on the Continent for the purpose of giving notice -to foot-passengers to get out of the way; but it was no doubt often used -for ostentation. So Wicliffe inveighs against the clergy in his Triologe -for their 'fair hors, and jolly and gay sadels, and bridels ringing by the -way.'" - -[57] A bird more commonly eaten in those days than it is now, but -expensive even then. - -[58] _Lymytour_: a friar licensed to beg within a certain district or -limit. This friar, no very pleasing character, is described as making such -a good thing out of his begging, that he bribed his fellow friars not to -come within his particular haunt, and interfere with his doings: an -unprincipled dandy who is another instance of Chaucer's sarcasm against -the Church. - -[59] There were four orders of mendicant friars--Dominicans, Franciscans, -Carmelites, and Augustins. - -[60] _Frankeleyns_: a franklin was a rich landholder, free of feudal -service, holding possessions immediately from the king. See p. 28. - -[61] Confession, absolution, and penance: sacraments in the Roman Catholic -Church. - -[62] The rotta was an ancient instrument of the guitar tribe. - -[63] _Clerk_: a scholar probably preparing for the priesthood. In many -Roman Catholic countries it was the custom till very lately for poor -scholars to ask and receive contributions from the people for the expenses -of their education. They were often extremely indigent, coming from the -labouring classes. The parson, for instance, spoken of later, is said to -be brother of the ploughman travelling with him. The poor scholar and the -good parson are 'birds of a feather.' - -[64] Or, _abounded_: the O. E. _snewe_, like the Prov. Eng. _snee_, -_snie_, _snive_, _snew_, signifies _to swarm_. - -[65] The table dormant was a permanent table, not a board on trestles such -as the ordinary one, mentioned on p. 2. It was only used by very rich -people, for it was a new fashion, and expensive. See drawing of table -dormant in 14th century, on page 28. - -[66] Well-to-do. - -[67] Chaucer speaks, you see, in very different terms of the poor and -conscientious parish priest (who was supported only by his benefice and -tithes of the people--a small income) from what he does of the monastic -orders, corrupted by the wealth they had accumulated. Bell says--"It was -quite natural that Chaucer, the friend of John of Gaunt, should praise the -parochial clergy, who were poor, and therefore not formidable, at the -expense of the rich monastic orders who formed the only barriers which -then existed against the despotic power of the aristocracy." But, however -that may be, there is no doubt that these parish parsons actually were a -much better and more honest class of men than the monks, and the begging -friars, and all the rest, were at this time. They were drawn, like the -Roman Catholic secular clergy of the present day, from the labouring -classes. - -[68] No one of good position rode on a mare in the middle ages. - -[69] _Summoner_: an officer employed by the ecclesiastical courts to -summon any persons who broke the law to appear before the archdeacon, who -imposed what penalty he thought fit. The Summoners found it to their -interest to accept bribes not to report offences: therefore bad people who -could afford to pay got off, whilst those who could not afford to pay were -punished with rigour. Many Summoners extorted bribes by threatening to say -people had transgressed the law who had _not_; and so they got to be -detested by the masses, and Chaucer's hideous picture gives the popular -notion of a Summoner. - -[70] A face as red as the fiery cherubin: a rather profane simile! In many -ancient pictures we find the cherubin painted wholly scarlet; and the term -had become a proverb. 'Sawceflem' is from _salsum flegma_, a disease of -the skin. - -[71] See note, p. 92, note 175. - -[72] _Pardoner_: Seller of the Pope's indulgences. - -[73] A vernicle--diminutive of _Veronike_--was a small copy of the face of -Christ, worn as a token that he had just returned from a pilgrimage to -Rome. - -[74] The Pardoner's eloquence and musical gifts account, perhaps, for the -exquisite story he afterwards tells. - -[75] Mr. Wright says this place was situated at the second milestone on -the old Canterbury road. - -[76] Tyrwhitt. Hyppolita, Smith's Dic. - -[77] Feste in this place means rather festival than feast, as Theseus was -only on his way to the city. - -[78] At this period, the personal pronoun _you_ was used only in the -plural sense, or in formal address, as on the Continent now; whilst _thou_ -implied familiarity. The Deity, or any superior, was therefore addressed -as _you_: intimates and inferiors as _thou_. Throughout Chaucer the -distinction is noticeable: but as the present mode reverses the order, I -have in my lines adhered to no strict principle, but have used the -singular or plural personal pronoun according as it seemed most forcible. - -[79] Thebes, in Greece. - -[80] A garment worn over the armour, on which the armorial bearings were -usually embroidered, for the purpose of recognition. See _tabard_, p. 48. - -[81] The rites and ceremonies, observed on the approach of spring, from -the earliest times in many countries, but which have now died out in -England, are among the most natural and beautiful of all popular fetes. I -have already in the preface alluded lo the custom of riding out into the -fields at daybreak to do honour to May, the month which was held to be the -symbol of spring-time. Rich and poor, the court and the commoners, all -rode out with one impulse. Boughs of hawthorn and laburnum were brought -home to decorate all the streets, and dancing round the maypole, and -feasting, and holiday-making, were observed almost like religious rites. -It was a great privilege to be elected queen of May, and one which every -young maiden coveted. At a later time we read of Henry VIII. and Queen -Catherine of Aragon formally meeting the heads of the corporation of -London, on Shooter's Hill, to 'go a maying.' - -But one thing should be remembered when we see how many pleasures were -referred to May, and how much more people seemed to count on the weather -of a month nowadays proverbially disappointing. The seasons were not the -same then as they are now. Not because the climate of the land has altered -so much, though that may be fairly surmised; but because the seasons were -actually arranged otherwise. In Chaucer's time, May began twelve days -later than our May, and ended in the midst of June, and therefore there -was a much better chance of settled weather than we have. This fact also -accounts for the proverbial connection of Christmas and hard weather, -snow, and ice, which _we_ get as a rule in January, while December is -foggy and wet. Twelfth Day was the old Christmas Day. (See page 4.) - -[82] At point devise--with exactness. - -[83] The love of the Anglo-Saxons and the early English for flowers is -very remarkable. The wearing of garlands of fresh flowers was a common -practice with both sexes: a beautiful custom, followed by the Romans, and -previously by the Greeks. - -[84] Formal compacts for the purpose of mutual counsel and assistance were -common to the heroic and chivalrous ages.--_B._ - -[85] The words _court_ and _royal_, now applied only to the sovereign of -the land, were applicable then to the domains of the great nobles, who -were to all intents and purposes kings. Their pride, and wealth, and -immense power, made them very formidable to the sovereign, as we -constantly find in following the history of England or any other country. -They often mustered as big an army as the king, because they could afford -to pay the knights (see note, p. 19), and were invincible in their -strongholds, surrounded by their serfs dependent on them. - -[86] Tyrwhitt. - -[87] _Crop_, the top of the wood; _briars_, the thorny brushwood and weeds -growing on the ground. This pretty metaphor well expresses the fluctuating -moods of an overwrought state of feeling. - -[88] Tyrwhitt. - -[89] Harness was a technical term for the complete armour or equipment, as -opposed to portions, which were equally _armour_. - -[90] Even these similes separate the two characters: the lion may be mad -with rage; the tiger, which is a cat, is crafty as well as fierce. - -[91] An exaggeration simply for picturesque effect, such as many have -indulged in since Chaucer. - -[92] The helmet entirely concealing the face. - -[93] _Ho_ was the word by which the heralds or the king commanded the -cessation of any action. - -[94] What were called the 'lists' were the places built and enclosed for -combats on horseback, and tournaments. These combats got sometimes very -serious, and many knights and horses were wounded, or even killed. - -[95] A form of torture to extort confession. Theseus' grim humour at this -juncture implies how far lightlier human life was held then than now. But -he was naturally in a great rage when he knew who the knights were. -Palamon's insolent address in the _singular_ personal pronoun was not -likely to mollify him, coming as it did from a captive, though an equal by -birth. - -[96] How idealized, and how idolized, the passion of love had crown to be -with the new elevation of woman's condition in these times is well known. -Love literally covered a multitude of sins: the malefactor was pardoned -whose offences were caused by love; the rough was made smooth for the feet -of love to tread upon. There was a reason for this. It is but too true -that the morals of the people will not bear the light of modern times; but -it would be unfair to judge them by that light. Those were rough days, -when laws were often feeble, narrow, or ill-enforced. The want of legal -organization placed a great refining and ennobling power in the hands of -woman. Many a knight, who was coarse or cowardly, was pricked to courteous -ways and deeds of courage by his love of some fair woman, when without it -he would have sunk lower and lower in vice and degradation. The arts were -ofttimes cultivated to win a woman's ear or eye; knowledge itself was -sought for her sake, for knowledge is power. Of course the love of -courtesy, valour, and learning were deeply rooted in the age, or the -woman's sympathy could not have existed. But her encouragement of all that -was aesthetic, her influence over men, and therefore the impetus she gave -to the higher life, must never be underrated, however we may reprove the -errors of that day. The institution of actual 'Courts of Love'--tribunals -for the judgment of love-matters, bearing a definite recognition, and -which seem so strange, almost repulsive to us, presided over as they were -by ladies only--was the result of the worship of physical beauty and the -passion which it inspired, and the proof, however grotesque, of the real -value seen to lie in it. This will be better understood when we observe -that even children were encouraged to cultivate somewhat of this ideal -love, and the childish education of boys and girls consisted to a very -large extent in learning the art of writing love-letters. Thus Palamon's -and Arcite's adoration of fresh Emelye are seen to be neither exaggerated -nor futile. - -[97] 'To pipe in an ivy leaf:' A proverbial expression, similar to 'go -whistle'--meaning to be engaged in any useless employment. - -[98] The tournament, great as the loss of life often was, seems to have -been the greatest delight of the people in the middle ages. The ladies -especially loved them, as they were often in homage to themselves. The -victor in the mimic battle received a crown from the queen of the -tournament. In this case, Emelye is not asked whether she likes to be -disposed of thus coolly! but she could not fail to be touched by the great -compliment paid her. - -[99] There are no portraits, otherwise, of these two princes, whose -characters are so clear and forcible all through that some physical -description is sorely needed. The portraits of the two sovereigns fit -singularly well the fierce, passionate nature of Palamon, and the cooler -but equally noble one of Arcite. - -[100] _Kemped heres_: Dr. Morris rejects the usual rendering of the word -kemped as combed, and asserts that it means the very reverse, and, -"instead of smoothly combed, means bent, _curled_, and hence rough, -shaggy." A similar term occurs a few lines farther on, describing the hair -'kempt behind his back,' where Dr. Morris reads combed. It seems, however, -contrary to the rule of courtesy observed by lovers, that a noble knight -should appear at a festival like a wild man of the woods. If, on the other -hand, the shaggy hairs were on the _eyebrow_, it certainly adds to the -ferocity of his look. I prefer the former reading for Emelye's bridegroom. - -[101] See page 42, note. - -[102] _Alauns._ A species of dog used for hunting the boar, &c. Sp. -_alano_. Speght says they were greyhounds, Tyrwhitt mastiffs, much -esteemed in Italy in the 14th century. See Cotgrave--'_Allan_, a kind of -big, strong, thick-headed, and short-snowted dog--the brood whereof came -first out of Albania.' - -[103] See Appendix, p. 111. - -[104] A kind of rich silk. - -[105] The 'mantelet' was at first devised to protect the burnished helmet -from becoming inconveniently heated by the sun: it became afterwards -fantastic in form, and is the origin of the 'mantling' seen in modern -coats of arms. - -[106] This fair countenance is oddly assigned to an Indian monarch: but -some of the details of his appearance are poetic embellishments and must -not be relied upon. The white eagle carried for his pleasure is probably -one of the many exaggerations for picturesque effect, and is only a -magnified falcon, a bird which was at this time the constant companion of -the noble: hawking was in high favour, and the bird's tameness depended on -its habituation to its owner's voice and touch. A little later on the -hawks are mentioned as sitting on perches during the festival; such -perches were in every room and hall in common life; so provision had to be -made for their accommodation on the grandest occasions. In Wright's -'Womankind,' we read: "Different species of the hawk were allotted to -persons of the different grades and ranks of society. Thus we are told -that the eagle and the vulture belonged to the emperor, from which we must -understand that the emperor was not expected to go often a-hawking." -Evidently Chaucer was well read in his books on falconry. - -[107] _Carole_ (Tyrwhitt--the other editions have _dance_) was a round -dance. - -[108] The term for the whole panoply of knight or steed--armour and -coat-armour included. - -[109] A knight in armour was in very little danger from a cut of a -broadsword, or even from the blow of a mace; but a thrusting sword might -easily pierce through the joints of his armour.--_Bell._ - -[110] Tyrwhitt's and Bell's editions read, 'Farwel, my swete, farwel, myn -Emelye!' - -[111] Tyrwhitt. _Overnome_ is participle past of _overnimen_ (Sax.), to -overtake. The following, and the sixth line further on, are also -Tyrwhitt's reading. - -[112] See _Chaucer for Schools_, p. 86, for some curious details. - -[113] The Summoners and the Friars were naturally always at variance, both -deriving their money from the same Source: both belonged to the Church, -but the Summoner was legally qualified to _extort_, whilst the Friar was -only permitted to _beg_. Thus, if the Summoner had been to a house first, -the Friar was likely to suffer. - -[114] Houses of ill-fame were exempted from ecclesiastical interference on -the ground that they were a necessary evil, and might be thus better -_surveille_. - -[115] _Gale_--sing: it means here, 'If the Summoner likes to squeak when -he feels the shoe pinch, let him!' - -[116] "A dog trained for shooting with the bow, part of whose education -consisted in following the stricken deer only, and separating it from the -herd."--_Bell._ - -[117] _Ribibe_: a shrill musical instrument--metaphorical for a shrill old -woman. - -[118] Tyrwhitt. - -[119] The hell of the Teutonic race, before they were Christians, was in -the north, and after their conversion, as their converters adopted their -name, only giving the place a Christian character, it was natural that the -people should retain their original notion of its position.--_Bell._ - -[120] Tyrwhitt. - -[121] Money forced out of people by threats or ill-usage. - -[122] A proverbial expression. - -[123] Tyrwhitt. - -[124] Tyrwhitt; more forcible. - -[125] The first quarter of the artificial day: _i.e._ 9 o'clock. - -[126] Tyrwhitt. Morris has 'nothing for to leere.' - -[127] This verse means, 'You shall hereafter understand this subject so -well, as to be able to give lectures on it, as a professor in his chair;' -_chayer_ being the term for pulpit or professor's chair; _conne_ part of -the verb conne, to know or be able; and _rede_, to counsel. The evil one -is sarcastic on the special wickedness of the Summoner. - -[128] Alluding to Eneas' visit to infernal regions (6th book of 'Eneid') -and Dante's 'Inferno.' - -[129] The text has 'Heit, Scot, heit, brok, what spare ye for the stones?' -and it is singular that 'hayt' is still the word used by waggoners in -Norfolk to make their horses go on; while Scot remains one of the -commonest names for a horse in Norfolk and Suffolk. The Reeve's horse in -the Prologue is called Scot also. Brock means a badger, hence applied to a -grey horse. The carter presently calls this horse 'myn oughne lyard (grey) -boy.' - -[130] The value of twelve pence may be estimated by the relative value of -food and labour. _Bell_ says, "Twelve pence would have bought two dozen -hens, or three gallons of red wine, or hired a _dozen_ common labourers -for _twelve_ days," but surely he means a _dozen_ labourers for _one_ day, -or one labourer for twelve days. - -[131] There was then no means of conveyance for people who could not walk -except horseback. - -[132] A libel, a copy of the information or indictment. A libel is still -the expression in the ecclesiastical courts.--_Bell._ The abuses, we see, -have led to another interpretation of the word libel--as _libellous_. - -[133] This singular (to us) term as applied to Christ, was of course -borrowed from the popular notion of warfare, when each knight, inspired by -some fair inciter, was the more valiant for her sake. The term is both -picturesque and forcible as an appeal to the common understanding, in -which the Friars were naturally adepts. - -[134] Tyrwhitt. - -[135] The Summoner's Tale (omitted) follows here. - -[136] Students then entered the university at a far younger age than at -the present day, almost indeed when boys now enter the public schools, so -that the Clerk of Oxford may have been but a boy, which would account for -his diffident demeanour: yet his education and knowledge might warrant -mine host's fear of his being too learned for them. - -[137] Table: a board upon trestles. - -[138] These are the lines on which the supposition is based that Petrarch -and Chaucer had met. - -[139] "Joannes of Lignano, near Milan, a canonist and natural philosopher, -who flourished about 1378."--_B._ - -[140] Saluzzo, a marquisate near Mount Viso: Lat. Vesulus. - -[141] _Corage_ is used in several senses: impulse (as in the opening lines -of the Prologue), feeling, or disposition may be implied. The word is -derived from the Latin _cor_, the heart. - -[142] See note 144 below. - -[143] The courtsey of modern times is all that remains of the old custom -of kneeling. - -[144] The house without. In these early times, dwelling-places were -usually built within a court. The court was, among the poor, a spot -enclosed by a hedge or fence of sticks, and often a dry ditch; in the -middle of this enclosure or house, the _hall_ in which they lived stood--a -mere covered room. The chamber or _bower_, for sleeping and privacy, was a -second erection within the court; but, in the case of so poor a man as -Janicula, probably there was but one covered room, hall _or_ chamber, used -for any purpose of shelter. So when the guests came into the _house_ -without, the enclosure is meant, within which a single hut stood, built of -planks. Janicula's ox (used for draught, as now in Italy) inhabited the -hut with them, and Griselda sets down her can in the stall when she enters -the hut. In and around Naples we may still see the turkeys, pigs, and -donkeys sharing the hovels with the peasants in this miserable way. - -[145] On the Continent, even at the present day, the bride is _expected_ -to assent to the bridegroom chosen by her parents. Walter treated Griselda -with especial consideration and respect by consulting her. Skeat quotes -the legal formula of refusal, _Le roy s'avisera_, to show that Walter's -question, "Wol ye assent, or elles yow avyse?" gave her the chance to -refuse. - -[146] In the 14th century it was the custom for everybody to go to bed -with the sun. They rose in the morning at 4 or 5, had breakfast at 6, -dinner at 10 or 11, and supper about 6. - -[147] Sergeant and servant are doublets.--_Skeat._ Probably he was a cross -between a highwayman and a soldier. Sergeant at one time meant squire to a -prince or nobleman. - -[148] Tyrwhitt. - -[149] It was common, nay usual, in mediaeval times for noble children to be -put out to nurse in the family of some equal or dependent, for purposes of -security. The removal of Walter's children from the mother was _not_ an -outrage: but concealing their fate from her was. - -[150] _Panico_, Petrarch; _Panigo_, Boccace. I cannot be sure of the -situation of this place, but there is a certain Paganico near Urbino, -marked in old maps as a castle or fortress, which is not too far from -Bologna to be possibly the place referred to. A river Panaro flows between -Modena and Bologna. - -[151] Tyrwhitt. - -[152] It was not uncommon in olden times for girls to be married at twelve -years of age. - -[153] Skeat. - -[154] The smock, or shift, was a high garment with long sleeves, often -embroidered with black stitchery. - -[155] "A jane is a small coin of Genoa (Janua); the meaning is, your -praise is dear enough at a farthing."--_B._ Or the verse may be taken to -mean, the smallest coin is dear enough to you when you are tired of -better--for novelty's sake. - -[156] Skeat; also second line beyond. - -[157] Tyrwhitt and Skeat. - -[158] Tyrwhitt. - -[159] Skeat. - -[160] Skeat and Tyrwhitt. - -[161] For the analysis of these two remarkable and elaborately worked-out -characters, see _Chaucer for Schools_, p. 111. - -[162] Basse Bretaigne in France, called anciently Britannia Armorica. - -[163] See Notes to this tale, p. 91, touching the homage paid to women -during the middle ages. - -[164] Penmark is placed on the maps on the western coast of Brittany, -between Brest and Port l'Orient. - -[165] The only means of subsistence a knight had was fighting--of course -for hire. - -[166] Backgammon. - -[167] About the 20th of May by our almanac. - -[168] _Clerk_ at that time denoted a man of learning, and a student at the -universities--generally in holy orders. - -[169] _Natural Magic_, Chaucer.--All kinds of conjuring were very popular -at this time. The minstrels or _jougleurs_ added to their other -accomplishments marvellous skill in sleight of hand (derived from the -East): hence the modern signification of the word _juggler_. It is quite -clear that many of their tricks were due to electro-biology, a science -known to those mighty cultivators and preservers of learning, the Arabs. -For some knowledge of what we owe to the Arabs, and of their influence -upon mediaeval European literature, I refer the reader to the 'Literary -Remains of Emanuel Deutsch' (published by John Murray), containing two -articles on Arabic Poetry; and to Draper's popular 'History of the -Conflict between Religion and Science.' - -[170] This and the following line are not in Morris's edition. - -[171] Bell's edition. This and the next six lines are not in Morris's -edition. - -[172] Equal to eight or ten times the amount now. - -[173] Equivalent to 'What is done cannot be undone.' - -[174] I could not resist inserting the vigorous old words. - -[175] The ale-stake was a stake set up as a sign before the inn, generally -adorned with a bush. This custom prevails in Normandy still, where you may -see a goodly bunch of mistletoe hanging out wherever wine or cider is -sold. - -[176] "A small bell used formerly to be rung before the corpse as it was -carried to the grave, to give notice to those who were charitably disposed -that they might pray for the soul of the deceased. Our 'passing bell' has -the same origin, though the reason for it has ceased."--_Bell._ - -[177] "Perhaps an allusion to the great pestilence which devastated Europe -during the 14th century. _This pestilence_ means _during_ this pestilence, -as _this_ year means _during_ this year."--_Bell._ - -[178] "This is still the ceremony used in taking an oath in courts of -justice in Prussia."--_Bell._ Notice the emphasis laid on their close -friendship, and their constant allusion to their being all 'one,' over and -above the solemnity of the profane vow they make. - -[179] The kindly custom of greeting passers-by, now rapidly going out even -in our country districts, was more common in days when passers-by were -infinitely rarer. Probably half a mile from the inn the road was lonesome -enough, wherefore the old man's anticipation of rough treatment from three -reckless and half-tipsy ruffians was not unreasonable. His calm and -fearless answer was the wisest as well as the most dignified course to -pursue with such assailants, being calculated to sober them as well as to -save himself. - -[180] Making a jest of the close coverings and wraps of old age. - -[181] _Caitif_, wretch, wretched. Italian--_cattivo_, captive. -Fr.-_chetif_, poor, wretched, paltry, pitiful, &c. _Captive_ seems to give -the most pathetic meaning, as though death were a looked-for freedom by a -restless prisoner in the body. Fugitive is the next best for the sense, as -the old man may be supposed to be flying to the gate for safety and -comfort. - -[182] Hair-shroud, sackcloth, the roughest cloth. - -[183] Tyrwhitt's edition has the less bloody threat, 'Tell wher he is, or -thou shalt it abie!' - -[184] The old man probably saw that the young men were scarcely -responsible for their actions, and determined to wreak violence on some -one, and therefore he played on their mood to avert their violence from -himself to some other object. - -[185] Tyrwhitt. - -[186] Probably in the vessels, &c., which had contained the food, thus -avoiding the appearance of transporting treasure. - -[187] Shall counsel he kept between us? literally, in schoolboys' -language, 'Mum's the word--eh?' - -[188] Bell's edition. - -[189] Games which we now leave to children were formerly as popular with -grown-up people. Hunt-the-slipper and blind-man's-buff were 200 years ago -the common recreation of ladies and gentlemen, and wrestling and other -romping was indulged in far more commonly than now by young men. Playing -at ball was a favourite pastime. - -[190] Tyrwhitt. _Outrely_, utterly, beyond all things. _Vide_ the -French--_outre mesure_, beyond measure. The common mediaeval expressions, -'_out of_ measure,' '_out of_ doubt,' were probably from the same word, -_outre_ = beyond. - -[191] Tyrwhitt. - -[192] Cast, as in '_cast_ a nativity,' means fix upon, arrange, discover. - -[193] Tyrwhitt. - -[194] Avicen, Ebn Sina, an Arabian physician of the 10th century. _Fen_, -apparently an Arabic word, is the name given to the sections of Avicenna's -great work on physic, entitled _Canun_.--_Tyrwhitt._ - -[195] A play on the word: light meant also fickle or untrue. - -[196] Tyrwhitt has treasure; Morris has _tresorere_, treasurer. The former -seems the most appropriate to a lady-love. A similar expression is found -in 'Li Congies Adan d'Aras' (MS. de la Valliere, No. 2736 Bibl. Imp.), 'De -mon cuer seros tresoriere.' - -[197] Bereft of money as a friar's tonsure is of hair. - -[198] Bell's edition reads _tene_, taken. - -[199] Tyrwhitt's and Bell's editions. Morris has 'Do wel.' - -[200] Fortune with her wheel. - -[201] 'Kick against the pricks.' - -[202] For the clay pot is the weaker of the two. - -[203] Tyrwhitt. Morris has _daunte_ and _dauntest_ (Fr., _dompter_), -meaning control. - -[204] See 'Notes by the Way,' p. 103. - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - -Passages in italics are indicated by _italics_. - -The original text contains letters with diacritical marks that are not -represented in this text version. - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Chaucer for Children, by Mrs. H. R. 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