chaucer's

Tales

Canterbury

WITH

ACCENTED,

AND

ANNOTATED

ENGLISH

OF

ILLUSTRATIONS

TIME

CHAUCER'S

IN

LIFE

py

SAUNDERS

JOHN

New

IVITir

and

Bevised

Edition

ILLUSTRATIONS

FROM

ELLESMERE

THE

MS.

LONDON:

J.
69, GREAT

M.

DENT

"

EASTERN

1894'

CO.,

STREET,

E.C,

'2-4 1L.H5".

HARVARD

COLLEGE
GIFT

PROF.

JOHN
JUNE

LIBRARY

OF

TUCKER

13, 1938

MURRAY

TO

FREDERICK

Hon,

Dr,

Phil.

Early

Berlin^

English

J.

FURNIVALL,

Founder

and

Text^

DEDICATED

IN

OF

AND

HIS

HIS

HELP

Director

IN

Chaucer^

other

Societies^

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

ON

THE

the

Camb.,

PAGES

GRATEFUL

WORK

of

and

Shakspere^

FOLLOWING

THE

ARE

New

M.A.,

CHAUCER,

REVISION.

PRESENT

JOHN

SAUNDERS.

Wyclif

CONTENTS

PAGE

Men

Contemporary

and

showing

INTRODUCTION,

dealingwith the Text

THE

PROLOGUE

AND

Illustrations of
Six

Events

Sections,by

the

of

mode

Author's

present

xi

Period

Chaucer's

of

.....

with

CHARACTERS,

English Life

in

the

the present writer

time
...

additional

of the

Poet, in

CONTENTS.

CONTENTS.

T5JJ Taijes"

continued.

Canon's
-^^i^The

Tale

Yeoman's

Canon's

"]^^The Manciple'sTale

on

409

....

the

Remarks

Yeoman's

Tale

^^^.^^

Remarks

"CjC-The

Doctor's

3U

The

from

Miller's

"he Reeve's

the

other

Tal^
Tale

_'he Merchant's

Concluding

Remarks

Tale

.429

"434

.438
447

"

427

Tales.

Tale
Tale

"

......

^_^

^Vi^TheShipman's

the Doctor's

on

.421

.423

Tale

Remarks

Selections

Manciple'sTale

the

on

"

"

"

"

"

"

"

"

-456
474

"483

MEN

CONTEMPORARY

CHAUCER

Sovereigns

England,

Edward

III., crowned,

"

Richard

Scotland.-~T"e?Xh.

II.

PERIOD.

1329;
Death

of

Stuart

family,

crowned

of
1371

dies,

and

Bruce,

Baliol

Robert

1327

1377

Henry

IV.

David

II.,

1399.

Robert

of

Edward

at

accession

Scone,

1332

Robert

Brunne,

1340;

Robert

III.,

1390.

1316

of
;

dies, 1355

II,, first

the

of

Countries,

Italy.

Popes

"

Clement

VI.,

Gregory

XI"

1389

Philip
the

claims

XXII.,

John
1342

Innocent

XIII.,

Benedict
1352

VII.,

1378

1359;

John
Charles

II.,

1350;

V.,

Portugal.

"

Charles

John

"

IV.,

1347.

I., 1383.

Events.

Germany,

Under

Teutonic

France,
La

Knights
Sit

"

Papal

"

John

Jacquerie,

interdict, 1330.

settled
Froissart

1358,

1334

V., 1362

Boniface

in

Prussia,

bom,

1337.

Charles

1364;

1380.

Germany.

XII.,
Urban

IX.,

1394.

VI., 1328

crown,

VL,

Clement

1370;

Benedict

France."

Other

OF

Time.

Chaucer's

succeeds

Foreign

HIS

AND

in

EVENTS

AND

I33l#

Charles

the

Bad

VI.,

;
;

xii

CONTEMPORAR

Other

Events

AND

MEN

E VENTS,

continued,

"

Italy. Simon

Boccanegra,the

"

Boccacio

crowned

the

in

firstDoge of

by
capital

he dies in 1375 ; Plague of

Black Death, 1349.

Robert

Genoa, 1339.
the

Good,

1342 ;

Florence,1348-9.

The

Death

of

War

Rienzi,1354.
Florence

between

Pisa,English auxiliaries

and

1362,
by the latter,
Death
Petrarch,1374.
of Greek
Restoration
language by

ployed
em-

of

Manuel

Chrysolaras,

1390.

Turkey, Settlement of Turks in Europe, 1343.

Victoryover Christians at Kossova, 1389.
"

Battle of

Flanders,

Nicopolis,1396.
Death

Arteveldt,a partisanof
III.,1345 (the subjectof Sir Henry Taylor's fine

"

Edward

of

Jacob Van

play).
Russia,

Conversion

"

Switzerland,

over
^Victory

"

Sweden.

Wars
J

the Austrians,at
which

Nafels,1389.

Denmark, Norway

and

united, 1397.

were

EVei^ts,"

England.
"

^/c. "Battle

French

Lithuanians,1387.

Treaty of Calmar, by

"

Sweden

Historical

of the

of Halidon

Hill,1333.

defeat ofifSluys,1340.

Battle of Neville's

Cross,1346.
Cressy,1346.
Poictiers,
1356.

Battle of
Battle of
Edward
Peace

IH.

invades

concluded

France, 1359.

between

England

and

France

1360.
Their

recommenced, 1370.
them, 1374.
Death of Edward
the Black Prince,1376.
Wat Tyler's
revolt,1381.
war

Truce

between

Battle of
Death
Pestilences.
"

The

Otterbourne,
1388.

of John of
The

second

Gaunt,

firstGreat

Pestilence,
1349.
1361.
Pestilence,
Pestilence,
1369

Great

The third Great

1399.

at

Bretigny,

CONTEMPORAR
Historical

EwENTS.^Eng/and,

Commerce,

Freedom

"

Export of

of

MEN

AND

E VENTS.

xiii

continued,^

tradingto foreignmerchants,1335.

wool

prohibited; foreigncloth
England, 1337.
established for
weight and measure

makers

allowed

to

settle in
One

the whole

kingdom.

1340-

Religion, Papal provisionsforbidden,135 1.

Last Age of the Church
(wrongly attributed
WyclifFecondemned
by Papal Bull, 1375.
Wycliffecompletes the tianslation of the
"

about

Wycliffe),
1356,

to

Bible

into

English

1380.

Wycliffe'sdeath, 1384.
of Lollards,1399.
Persecution
/^fwitfj/j?."Law

in English (36 Edward

pleadings

III.,c. 15),1362.

Diet and

Apparel regulated by statute, 1363,

Poll

of

Tax

12

pence

levied

all persons

on

above

15 years old

1380.
Literature,

The

"

Death

Ayenbiteof Inwytyby

of Richard

Rolle,author

Dan

Michel, 1340.
of Conscience

of The Pricke

1349.

Lawrence

Minot's

Poems

the Wars

on

Polychronicon^
by Ralph Higden, 1352,
by John Trevisa,1387.
Sir John Mandeville's
Plowman's

Piers

Travels
^

of Edward

III.,
1352.

translated

into

lish
Eng-

1354 J death in 1372.

Vision^
by Langland (the A -text, 1362

; ihe

B-text,1377.)
The

[Bruce],by Earbour,

Brus

1375 ; Barbour's

death

in

1395.
Gower's
Poem

A mantis
Confessio

of Richard
to be

Chaucer's

Life

page

1393.

the Redeles

by Langland,

[i.e.devoid

of

counsel],supposed

1399.

Poems."

1340, in Thames
to the wife of Prince

Birth about
A

and

Street,London.
Lionel,1357.

with
Edward
III. in the invasion of
militarycareer
in 1360.
France, and is taken prisoner,1359 ; is ransomed
In the king'sservice,
1361.
His
wife, Philippa,one of the ladies in attendance on Queen
Philippa,assigneda pension of 10 marks, 1366,

Begins

his

xiv

CONTEMFORAR

Chaucer's

Life

Receives

annual

VENTS.

continued.

Voeus"

and

AND

MEN

marks, 1367.
1367-8.
CompUynte to pits(Pity)^
rejected,
composes
Poem
the Dethe ofBlaunche^the Duchess^1369.
on
Employed by the king on a mission to Pisa and Genoa, 1372.
His Lyfe of St. Cecile,
1373.
A pitcherof wine dailygranted to him, 1374.
and Subsidy of Wools,
Appointed Comptrollerof the Customs
Skins,and Tanned Hides, 1374.
His poem
of Tfie Compleynt
ofMars^ 1374.
Sent on a mission to France, 1377.
His prose englishing
of The Former
oi Boece^poem
Age^ "c.,1377.
In

an

pensionof

20

his

love,and

Compromises his raptus of

Cecilia

His poem

ofFoules^1381.
the Petty Customs

of The Par lament

of
Appointed Comptroller
His poem
His poem

of

Chaumpagne, 1380.
of

Wines, "c.

1382.

1382.
Troylus,

of House

ofFame, 1384.

His poem
ol Legende of Good Women, 1385.
Sits in Parliament as Knight of the Shire for
Dismissed

as

Comptrollerof

Wool

and

Kent, 1386.
Petty Customs, 1386.

His poem
of
Some of the

Truth,1386.
CanterburyTales written,1387 ; others up to 1400.
His wife,Philippa,
dies,1387.
At his own
request his pensionsare assignedto John Scalby,1388.
Is appointed Clerk of the King's Works
at Westminster,
1389,
and

at

Windsor,1390.

Sees to the

repairof

in Smithfield
Is robbed
Is

oi "20

of the Thames

banks

for the
of the

King

and

Queen,

King'smoney,

Forester
appointedjoint"

of N.

; puts up

joust stands

1390.

Sept.,1390.

Petherton, 1391

His Astrolabe,1391 ; loses his Clerkshipsof the

Receives a pension oi "20 a year for life,
1394.

; sole one,

1398.

Works.

His latest Minor

Poems, 1392 -1398.

yearlygranted to him, 1398.
Is sued by Mrs. Buckholt, for "1^ is. iid., 1398.
Gets protectionfrom
suits of law, sends his Purse
new
King Henry IV., 1399.
His pensiondoubled,1399.

tun

of wine

Covenants

Poem

to the

for 53 years lease of a house

in the garden of the
Chapel of St. Mary, Westminster,December,1399,

Dies, at Westminster,1400.

PROLOGUE.

CANTERBURY

TALES

FROM

CHAUCER.

INTRODUCTION.

JS

it

English
find

to

in

but

seen

the

?
his

all

serious
this

on

inherent
verse

would
so

be

for

not

only

national

people,
have,
The

in

we

created

prevailing
in which

for
The

notion

and

they

are

not

is

popular
adequately
in-

very

surprised

another

and

or

century,

be

poet

belonging
the

on

to

seldom

are

of

shelves

done

national

is,we
to

the

been
of

poetry,

of

an

difficulty

but

any

Chaucer^s

restored
this
the

intellect

making

beyond
of

to

assumed,

believe, simply
"
the
few,*' form

their

owing

there

poetical injustice in doing

almost
everything for us

great
has

tionable
unobjec-

with

commonly

comprehensive

have

written.

is

own

grossness
are

it is

that

connected

as

in his

neglected
occasional

humorous,

think

we

opportunities
account

of

his

of

real

added

who,

on

us

fact

Chaucer

comprehension,

been

works

thus

of his

do

as

who

Chaucer,

no

been

some

term

may

robust

of

had

whose

difficulties

these

truth, had

works

most

popularity,

account

on

Neither

were

many,

audienceforso

has

Chaucer

score.

tongue.
the

present

the

there

literary student,

tales, and

what

little

who
a

though

for

originators,

of

irremediable

or

day,

present

fitted

certainly,

Not,

the

that

library.

is it that

why

country
for

the

of the

well-appointed
But

was

of

half

made

Shakspere,
need
appreciated, one

at

hand

the

first

poets,

hardly less
class
mighty

same

the

discovery

of

the

in

only

was

the

their

antique

his

understanding

that

only

"

the

fit"

acquaintance.
intellectual
:

the

hence

us

Chaucer's,

as

ready
garb

"

to

the

language

'

ca^tMbuj^^

have
been
fate under such
Shakspere's
his popularity and influence have
would
compared with what they are, ifthere had been no
him known
theatre to make
to his humbler
countrymen ? If none
but the wealthier classes had been able to purchase his published
works
? If his editors had preserved the old,and to our eyes,
?
Or if,in a word, he had been kept
uncouth style of spelling
"
instead of being
circles,"
carefullypreservedas a pet of the
the pride and glory of the nation ? Yet not
allowed to become
been
thus situated,but" to make
matters
only has Chaucer
his
old
the
o
f
the
worse
spelling,
superficial
preservation
by
difficultiesattendingthe right understanding of his frequently
have been
most
enhanced.
obsolete pronunciation
materially
We
is now
done
?
back
be
What
turn
to
cannot
suddenly
of a people's
than we
the current
thoughts and tastes,any more
river
its
to
to
return
a
source
can
suddenly compel
; but we
be
not
gradually wind back to the place that may
may
in
induce
and
reached
order
to
readers
to
English
directly
;
noble
the
this
make
venture
as
pilgrimage,we may
upon
way
convenient
and agreeable as possible. The
followingpages
be looked upon as an humble
must
attempt to aid in this good
work.
different modes
Three
have been adopted by the lovers of
,
their
in
attempts to popularizehis works.
I Chaucer
modernized
his poetry; that is to say,
First, they have
and his coadjutors
Wordsworth
re-written it,as poetry. How
Whenever
failed is notorious.
shall arise possessing
a
man
individual characthe
and
teristics
same
exactly
powers, views,tastes,
and will undertake
as the great father of our
literature,
version of the * CanterburyTales,'we
have no
to give us a new
be satisfactorily
till
doubt the task may
and
not
accomplished,
How
then.
Dryden failed we trust we have in some
degree
in our
Remarks
in
the
and
other
shown
on
Knight'sTale,
places; and ifsuch a poet could fail with a subjectso peculiarly
suited to him, who can ever hope, under ordinarycircumstances,
succeed ?
to
into a prose
Secondly, the poeticalhas been transformed
narration ; and thus the story, at least,has been freed from
and hindrances
caused
the difficulties
by antiquatedwords or
then
it
but
has
necessarilybeen relieved at the
pronunciations
;
time
the
elements
from
all
subtler
of the poetry. A still
same
more
importantobjectionto prose versions of Chaucer is the
fact that they do not, in the slightest
degree,prepare the reader
aid
time or other, all such extraneous
to throw aside, at some
him
of
the
the
to
t
ext.
accustoming
perusal
original
by gradually
Thirdly, Chaucer's poetry has been presented in its own
what
Now
treatment?
been now, as

"

would

tales.

What

INTRODUCTWm
accented
and an
spelling,
complete form, with a modernized
pronunciation.Eventually, perhaps, this will be the method
permanently adopted for all popular editions of the poet ; but,
at

present, such

general reader
"

too

irksome

books

attract

the
the
neither
student
nor
they stillremain
apparently

too lax for the one,

"

for the other.

the
to combine
followingpages we have endeavoured
offered
last named,
peculiar advantages
by the two methods
and
We
to
have
proposed to
get rid of their drawbacks.
In the

the
make
resolving inconvenient

whole
of the story clear by
course
difficult passages of the poetry into
or
the
at
same
time, to allow the reader to be constantly
prose ; but,
refreshing himself from the "well of English undefiled^^
by
all
the
the
finest
of
the
remainder, including
leaving
portions
and beautiful language.
nervous
poetry, in its own
have constantlyasked
In the preparationof this prose we
these
it
ourselves
two
questions,and these only : Does
and words of the original
reflect the thoughts,style,
?
sufficiently
be
It
it
harmonize
and
into
it?
will
Does
a
with,
glide easily
of deep satisfaction to us ifothers are
better satisfied
source
can
pretendto be ; and if,
upon these pomts than we ourselves
the whole, the publicationmay
m
degree lessen
any
upon
before
the periodthat must
Chaucer
shall
elapse
be, through
sole interpreter.
all his works, his own
We
have spoken of " difficulties." These, we think,may
be
entirelygot rid of, without any innovation on the poet'sown
words, or probable modes of pronunciation. A glossaryat the
ft)ot of each page ; modern
where
practicable; and a
spelling
careful accentuation
with the
of the words, which, in accordance
in
its
principlesthat guided Chaucer
composition,requireto be
differently
pronounced than at present, will enable any reader of
ordinaryintelligenceto enjoy this fine old poet in something
admirable
like his own
It is true, that Chaucer
had not
dress.
much
relish for the regiviental
school of rhythm ; and did not,
like some
later poets, and like some
of his own
commentators,
think that the feet of verse
kind
with the same
should move
of uniform march
he
the feet of a troop of infantry; and
as
of all,
is,therefore,in a considerable degree, at the mercy
his
ourselves
of course
included, who undertake to modernize
his pronunciation. But we venture
orthography,or accentuate
that
if they do not enable
to
to think,
us
good principles,
command
absolute success,
will at least prevent us from going
ourselves

to

"

far astray.
Our

is worthy of his
Chaucer's verse
his
have
can
verse
we
sure
we
(asubjecttouched
that without blindingor
page) ; and, secondly,

that
principles
are, first,

poetry, when
in another
on

be

CAkTERBUI{y TALES.
in the dust or roar of controversy, as to how
write
he did,or whether he ou^htto have
what
to
came
so
written,we have only to study in the rightspiritwhat he has
written,to find all the information we requireas to the modes
in which he should be read,or in which he should be sent forth,
kind.
by the aid of the press, for the solace and instruction of man-

stunningourselves
he

ensuing pages, it will be found that the poet's words

are
mainly given from Morris's edition, eveiy line of which,
however, has been compared with those from other sources, but,
far as
as
orthography; and, whej'e the
possible,in modem
it will be ^e^terally
is preserved^
the
old spelling
found to serve
tion.
important purpose of suggestingat once the requiredpronunciaIn

the

of accentuation
The methods
in which
the accent
Words

have adopted are these :

we
falls upon
different syllable
a
the
with an
at
marked
tlian
acute
one
present emphasized, are
additional syllables
Where
2.
accent, as hon6ur for honour.
(exclusiveof diphthongs) are to be sounded, without any change
in the spelling,
or in the emphasis,they are
pointedout by the
In
mork
time the individual
Chaucer's
accent, as write,
3.
grave
of both vowels, in diphthongs,appear
sounds
to have
stilllingeringin
been commonly preserved in speech(a custom
in writingsuch words, therefore,
the north of England); and
and
as
absolution,they are marked
creature, truely,
creature,
and
be pronounced accordingly,
must
truely,and absolution,
just as in Leeds, to this day, bread is continuallyheard of as
bread, and dream as dream.
conclude these introductory
We
remarks
with a few word?
on
the great error
that has so long existed with regard to Chaucer's
versification.
an
Dryden, for instance,says, " Jt were
easy
I.

"

which are lame

thousands
of his verses,
of half a foot and sometimes
and which
whole
for want
a
one,
make
otherwise."
The
first
can
no
pronunciation
part of this
matter

to

producesome

want
or
entire
was
on
evidentlyfounded
igiMiiance,
Chaucer
consideration,of the state of the language when
For centuries the French
used in the
wrote.
tongue only was
and among
the higher classes of society; Chaucer, with a
court

statement

of

has printed the seven

Dr. Fumivall
best MSS.
of the * Canterbury
'
in
Six
his
Text
Tales
and his printof the Harleian MS. 7336,
edition,
which was
the basis of Thomas
Wright'sand Dr. Morris's editions.
Mr, Oilman
(U.S.A.) has edited all the Tales from Dr. Furnivall's
of the EUesmere
MS., and from thai too,Professor Skeat and Dr.

Srint
lorris have

edited the excellent selections in the Clarendon

with
full
Notes, and Glossaries.
Series,
Introductions,

Press

INTRODUCTION.
ambition,determined to write an English poem in English
would
find it impossibleto eradicate
words, but of course
all traces
of the French, supposing him
wished
to have
to
do
His poems,
abound
with
a
nd
^/*""x"
so.
therefore,
Gallicisms,
noble

his words
require to be. pronounced in
with the laws of the French
accordance
rather than the English
It
also
be
must
acknowledged, that he did what
tongue.
doubtless every other great poet under his circumstances
would
have done too, chose whichever
pronunciation the French or
the English, both as yet in a very unsettled state
suited him
best at the moment.
Had
he would
Dryden attended to this,
have found his illustrious predecessor'sversification generally
flowingand musical, often singularlyso. With regard to the
last part of his statement, Dryden must be held blameless,except
for want
of faith : he saw
exquisitelines,and should
many
therefore have had more
confidence
in their author than to
"
no
pronunciation
suppose him capable of writinglines which
"
could
otherwise
make
than defective : for the truth is,that
the early editions of Chaucer
were
grievouslycorrupt. An
evidence of the cause
of that
well as great extent
as
interesting
is afforded by the poet'scomplaint of the state
corruption,
in
of the manuscriptscopied under his own
direction,
eye and
the lines headed
a

of

number

great

"

"

"

"

"

Chaucer's
*"

words

unto

his

own

Scrivener.

Adam
Scriveyn,if ever it thee befal
Boece or Troilus to writen new,
Under thy lock^s mayst thou have the scall
But after my making thou writfe true.
So oft a day I must thy work renew,
It to correct, and eke to rub and scrape,
And
all is through thy negligenceand rape."

feel inclined to take this

who
could perform
him
of
the task satisfactorily,
it is evident that the manuscripla^
Chaucer's
be full of errors.
By the
writingsgenerally must
Morris produced
of these, Dr.
collation,
however, of many
Now

as

few

trouble,and

as

beside

the

there

were

poet would

but

none

Canterbury Tales ; and a comparison of

the
passage transcribed by Dryden in illustration of Chaucer^s
musical
as
defects,as he gives it,with the same
passage
future
useful
Morris
form
lesson
to
mentators.
coma
printedby
may
similar
They will see in this, as in a thousand
of great poets, wherever
cases, that in judging of the works
is
the
is
safest as well as justest
there
a doubtful
point,faith
The
in questionis Chaucer's
course.
sly defence of
passage
his edition

of

the

the gi'osser portionsof his tales

'

:"

TALES.

CANTERBURY
"*

I pray
first,

But

That

ye

ne

Though that

of your

you

courtesy,

nioughtmy villainy,
plainlyspeak in this mattere,

arrette

it

To tellen you their words,and eke their cheer,

Ne though I speak their words properly J
For this ye knowen
I,
as well as
Who
shall tellen a tale after a man,
He mote
rehearse as nigh as ever he can
Everich word of it be in his charge ;
All speak
large.
so rudely,ne
he, never
Or else he mote
tellen his tale untrue,
Or feigne
things,or find words new," "c.

crabbed
enough, in all
No doubt a most
passage, unmusical
Chaucer
wrote
it,
as
conscience
; but let us look at the passage
in
lurk
still
Morris's
version
errors
to
may
according
(though
and injure
it).
**

But firstI pray you of your courtesy,

That ye ne rette it not my villainy.
Though that I plainlyspeakin this mattere,
To tellen you their wordfes,and their cheer,
Ne though I speak their word"
;
properly
all so well as I,
For this ye knowen
Who
so shall tell a tale after a man,
he can^
He must rehearse,
as nigh as ever

Every word,
All speak he
Or
Or

i."^

elles he

if it be in his
never

must

so

charge ;
rudelyne large.

tellen his tale untrue,

feignenthings,or find"f"word^j new."

add another.
we
now
suppose
the
reflect
to
gloriousJohn, we w^onder,ever pause
upon
countless others of equalexcellence ?
style6t this passage, among
" I
it
for
is
a
me,
great disease,
say
hdve been in great wealth and ease,
Where
as men
To
Did

this

specimen of

Chaucer

To Jiearenof their sudden fall,

alas !
And the contrdire is joy and great solas ;
As when
hath been in poor estate,
a man
And climbeth
up, and waxeth fortunate.
And there abideth in prosperity,
Such thing is gladsome,as it thinketh me.**

music
married to immortal
If this be not majestic
poesy,
what is.
do not know
The
reader can now
appreciatethe force of
partially
to Chaucer's
statement
as
language, which, he says, "is

w3

Dryden's
so

"
to be understood
or his kind
obsolete,that his sense is scarce
;
"
lived
in
for
the
of
infancy our poetry ; '* or
apology Chaucer, he
"
of his verses
his liberal and
yet many
generous
assurance,
much
consist of ten syllables,
and the words
behind
not
our

present English."

THE

TABARD"

ITS

Section
THE

TABARD"

HISTORY.

I.
ITS

HISTORY.

(PEGHT,in

the Glossary to his edition of Chaucer

(1602),
writes of the " Inn in Southwark
within
London,
by
the which was
the lodging of the Abbot
of Hyde by
Winchester.
This was
the hostelrywhere Chaucer
and the other pilgrimsmet
together,and, with Heniy Bailly
their host, accorded
about
the manner
of their journey to
And
it hath been much
time
whereas
Canterbury.
through
decayed, it is now by Master J.Preston,with the Abbot's house
thereto adjoined,newly repaired,and with convenient
rooms
much
increased for the receiptof many
guests."
The
longed,
Abbey of Hyde, to which then it appears the Tabard bethe
than Alfred
had no less distinguished
Great,
a founder
of time,a very splendidand wealthy
and became, in progress
establishment.
Its inmates appear
to have
caught something
of Alfred's chivalrous spirit,
for,at the battle of Hastings, the
into the field with
related to Harold, came
Abbot, who was
twelve of his monks
and a score
of soldiers ; and of all those
of
brave English hearts who
for the freedom
there struggled
their outraged soil,none
done better service
to have
appear
in the field ;
than these gallant monks.
They fell,
every man,
indeed their heroism
been so conspicuousas
to have
appears
for he afterwards used their
to attract the Conqueror'sattention,
house with especialharshness,not only seizingtheir land, but
keeping the abbey without a head for nearly three years.
amends
for all its past losses : he
Henry II.,however, made
endowed
of the most
it so magnificently
that it became
one

distinguishedof English monasteries ; and when

began to meet, and the abbots to be summoned
the number.
house, the Abbot of Hyde was among

parliaments
to the

uppers

London

residence now
and there is every probability
became
necessary,
^
that the site of the Tabard
was
purchased for this purpose
the High Street being a favoured
place with those reverend
prelates.The year after the conveyance, (August, 1307,)the
Abbot obtained a licence for "A chapelat his hospitium at St.
of religious
at the dissolution
houses,
Margaret's."Finally,
and
Thomas
the Abbot's
house
here was
granted to John
"

Canterbury

tales.

the
R.endle's * Old
Southwark, and its People,'
"
at the Dissolution,
in the surrender
property is summed
up
Abbot's
as
one
place, the
hostelry called the Taberd, the
"
ing
Abbot's stable,the garden belonging,"and
a dung place leadthe
Thames."
ditch going to the
to
Masters.

In

"The

two

perhaps do

which

names

the

to

and

annals

of

English literature

greatest honour

the

those

are

of

Chaucer
there is no

of Shakspere,
After the dramas
various and vigorous
that
more
man
displays
*
talent than the
Canterbury Tales.' Splendour of narrative,
richness of fancy,pathetic simplicity
of incident and feeling,a
and an
powerful style in delineating character and manners,
animated
vein of comic
humour, each takes its turn in this
wonderful performance, and each in turn appears to be that in
;
Thus
writes
which the author
to succeed."
most
was
qualified

Shakspere.

production

of

Godwin, in the preface to his Life of the poet, reviewing

generally the characteristics of the great father of English
which
poetry ; but elsewhere,noticing that particular
quality
he calls
Chaucer's
other stamps
productions,
"
"
it is in
:
emphatically the poet qfdmrqcter and manners
that lightwe here propose
him.
to view
in which
The ' Canterbury Tales ' are preceded by a prologue,
the plot and characters are shown, and which thus begins ; the
than

more

any

him

poet in his
"

own

being the

person

When
The

that

narrator

:
"

Aprillewith

his showres swoote,^

droughtof March hath piercedto the root,
bathed every vein in such licour
And
Of which virtiie engendered is the floure ;
When
Zephirus eke with his sweete breath
"

in every holt and heath

croppes, and the ypunge

Inspiredhath
The

tender

Hath
And

in the

Ram

sraalle fowlfes^ maken

sleepenall
prickeththem

That

So

his half6
the

course

sun

yrun,

melody,

night with

open

eye,

Natiire in their courages ; ^

Then

longethfolk to go on pilgrimages,
palmers for to seeken Strang^ strands
To feme hahves,couth * in sundry lands,
from every shirks end
And, 'specially,,
Of Enge-land to Canterburythey wend,
The holy blissful martyr for to seek
That them hath holpen,when that they were
And

Sweet.
To

Birds.

distant saints

"

or

Occasional consonances
poetry were esteemed
"

Hearts"

sick.*

spiritsinclinations,
"

shrines.
of this character
borrowed
a beauty in old Englishverse.
"

from

French

CHAUCER.

(from

rage 8.]

the

ELLESMERE

MS.)

HISTORY.

TABARD"ITS

THE

on
a day,
Befel,that in that season
I lay,
In Southwark, at the Tabard
as
wenden
to
on
Ready
my pilgrimage
To Canterbury with full aevout
courdge,

At

nightwas

Well

nine and

into that

come

twenty in

Of

sundryfolk,by

In

and
fellowship,

That

toward

hostelry

company

adventure

ytall
pilgrims
they all,
were

Canterburywoulden

ride."

essential difference between

The
the two
classes of persons
that the ;
here mentioned, the palmers and the pilgrims,
was,
"
latter had
one
dwellingplace,a palmer had none
; the pilgrim
certain place, the palmer to all,and not
travelled to some
to
in particular
charge,
; the pilgrim must
any one
go at his own
the palmer must
professwilful poverty ; the pilgrimmight give
the palmer must
his profession,
be constant."
Blounfs
over
'

"

Glossography,
"

"
M. J.J.Jusserand,^
was
enough respected
and he took care by the recital of his miseries
to find his living,
himself the more
leaden medals
to make
revered; the numerous
to his clothes
sewn
spoke highly in his favour, and a man
had
and
well received, who
was
passed through Rome
of the ^worshippers'
through Jerusalem,and could give news
and
He had a bag hung at his side for provisions,
of Mahomet
his
and
hand ; at the top of the staff was
staff in
a
a knob,
sometimes
with an appropriate
a piece of metal
inscription,
as,
found at Hitchin,a
for example, the device of a bronze nng
with these words, '^Haec in tutedirigatiter^ (May this
cross
direct thee safelyin the way). The staff at the other end had
iron point,
like an alpenstockof the present day."
an
The
of
the palmer, itis hardly necessary
to mention,
name
derived from the custom
of carryinga staff formed out of
was
branch
of the palm tree.
A very interestingview of the
a
during the periodof Chaucer is afforded to us
Englishpilgrims
in the trial of one
of the earliest English martyrs, William
in
the
brought before Archbishop
Thorpe, who,
year 1407, was
Arundel on a charge of heresy. Among the subjectsintroduced
into his examination
that of pilgrimages Thorpe is accused
was
"
of having said, those men
and women
that go on pilgrimages
to Canterbury, to Beverley,to Karlington,to Walsingham, and
and made
to
foolish,
any other such places, are accursed
"
their
in
in
waste.
spendmg
Thorpe,
supports
money
answer,
the truth of these
opinions,and says that people go on

The

says
pilgrim,"

i''

the

'

Life
Wayfiaring
French by Lucy

translated
Ages (14thcentury),
Smith, 1889.

in the Middle

Toulmin

'

from

CANTERBURY

TALES,

for the health of their bodies than of their

of this world than
to have riches and
prosperity
souls, more
to have here
with virtues in their souls,more
be enriched
to
worldly and fleshlyfriendshipthan for to have friendshipof
This curious passage
shows
God
and of his saints in heaven."
of
idea
his
the unspiritual
right in
us, that if Thorpe were
its uses, and
the custom
still had
of the custom,
tendencies
doubt
pilgrims generally felt
important ones, though no
scandalized
by such naked expositionsof the true character
of pilgrimages. Thorpe, however, can
give us a picture of

pilgrimagesmore
"

the

actual

thing, as

well

of its

as

objects.

and
he says, " I know
well,that when divers men
Also, sir,"
'l
will go thus after their own
wills,"they will arrange
women
"
and women
have with them
both men
another
to
with one
other pilgrimswill
well sing wanton
that can
some
songs
; and
"

that every town

they come
through, what with the noise of their singing, and with the
with
the jingling of their
their piping, and
of
sound
Canterbury bells,and with barking out of dogs after them,
there away
than if the king came
that they make
noise
more
if these
And
minstrels.
other
with all his clarions and many
of
and
be a month
in their pilgrimage, many
men
women
and
after
be
half year
them shall
an
great janglers,tale-tellers,

have

with

them

bagpipes

so

liars." The
gives
Archbishop'sanswer, partlyin justification,
of
with
them
of
odd
the advantages
instance
pilgrimshaving
an
"
"
"
of them that
such singersand pipers;
one
when, he says,
his
and
striketh
barefoot
toe
goeth
upon a stone,
him to bleed,it is well done that he or his fellow begin
maketh
of his bosom
tlien a song, or else take out
a
bagpipe for to
with
with such mirth the hurt of his fellow. For
drive away
of pilgrimsis lightly
such
solace
weariness
the travel and
....

merrily brought forth." State Trials,

pilgrimagesmost
"Wyclif," says Jusserahd, "denounced
I
of
his followers had to
that when
one
so
so much
persistently,
his heresies,
belief in the usefulness and sanctityof
renounce
of
Thus
the articles he bad to subscribe.
pilgrimageswas one
William
of adjuration,the
in his vow
Lollard
Dynet, of
in
these
Dec.
words, *Fro this
Nottingham, on
i, 1395, swears
ing
day forewarde I shall worshipe images, with praying and offerof
the
seintes
that
in
the
vnto
they be
worschepe
them,
"
after ; and also I shall neuermore
made
despyse pylgremage.'
of all ranks, from
the highest to the lowest,were
Persons
it was
accustomed
to fulfil this great duty, as
esteemed, and
which certainlywas
a great pleasure,of going on
pilgrimages,
and more
especiallyto the shrine of the chief saint of sinners,
and

Thomas

"

k Becket.

Thus

on

one

occasion

Chaucer's

own

patron

HISTORY.

TABARD"ITS

THE

king, Edward
III.,goes with his mother to Canterbury, in
in
reference to the other extremityof the social
; whilst,
that no one
too poor
was
scale,the statute of 1388 tells us plainly

and
Lent
or

humble

servant

the

end

privilege.That

for the

or

labourer, whether

of

his

of

term

man

or

service

out

that

woman,

enacted
should

of

hundred,

statute

the

no

departat
rape,

or

colour
he was
of going on
resident,under
unless
had
he
letters
pilgrimage,
patent containing the cause
There
of his going, and
little
the time of his return.
was
in
the
of
those
for
such
as
to
means
difficulty
days
support
poor pilgrims. Their wealthier companions would no doubt aid
when
for them
them
a hospitablewelcome
; there was
necessary
the little
at every
monastery or hospital; above all,there were
for
the
accommodation
of
erected
wayside chapels,
travellers,
for pilgrims,
and more
where
not
only shelter,was
especially
provided,but a pittanceof food in addition for those who needed
it. " In our
pedestrianism,"
says a writer in the Athenaeum,
"
have traced the now
desolate remains of several of these
we
the
old
road to Canterbury."
pilgrims*
chapels along
'
of all the houses of public entertainThe chief,apparently,
in the metropolis,
where
ment
pilgrimswere wont to assemble
*
of Chaucer.
before their departure,was
the * Tabard
There
few
that
in
which
famous
than
the
ancient
streets
are
more
the High Street of South wark.
During
hostelryis situated
the period of the Roman
thousand
two
Lbndinium,
years ago,
the great road from the
it was
undoubtedlywhat it stillremains
still
are
metropolis to the southern ports. Roman
antiquities
occasionallyfound in different parts of the line. Its convenient
situation as a suburb for the entertainment
of travellers passing
London
between
and the counties of Surrey,Sussex, and Kent,
here as contiguous to the " silent highway" of the
who were
Thames
time
more
as
they could desire,and at the same
the
in
than
could
be
densely-populated
lodged
they
pleasantly
for its inns.
After the
it early famous
metropolis, made
of Becket, the number
of persons
murder
and canonization
his
shrine
to
at
continually setting out on
pilgrimages
still further
the increase
and
to
Canterbury, contributed
Stow, several
prosperityof these houses of entertainment.
centuries later (in1 598),alludes to them in such a way as to show
feature of the High Street :
that they then formed
a principal
be many
"In
of travellers ; "
Southwark
fair inns for receipt
"
and he then
proceeds, amongst the which the most ancient
is the Tabard, so called of the sign,which as we
term
now
it,is
of a jacket or sleeveless coat, whole
before,open on both sides,
with a square
collar,winged at the shoulders : a stately
of noblemen
and others,
of
old
worn
time,commonly
garment
where

wapentake

"

"

"

"

"

'

'

CANTERBURY

12

both

at home

wars) their
that

and

arms
man

abroad

TALES.

in the

wars

; but then

(towit
depictupon

in the

embroidered, or otherwise
them,
his
of
be
known
coat
from
a.ms
might
by
these tabards are only worn
by the heralds,

every
others.
But now
of arms
and be called their coats
in service/'
This "most
ancient"
then of the inns of South wark, even
in 1598 this
rival
Heads
of
Boar's
and
our
Mermaids, which, older
great
"

than
what

either,survived both"

was

situated

immediately opposite

St. Margaret's Hill (though

perfectlylevel),then the site of St. Margaret's Church,
The exterior of the inn
of the Town-hall
of the Borough.
was

formerly called

now
now
was

simply a narrow, square, dilapidated-looking

gateway ; its posts
with
iron
its
bands
with
strapped
gates half covered
rusty
"
"
Inn
metal.
The
Talbot
sheets of the same
was
painted
"
and
This
there
also
the
is
the
Inne
was
:
inscription
above,
and the nine and twenty Pilgrimslay
where Sir JeffryChaucer
"

"

in their journey to Canterbury, anno

1383."
Before startingon their pilgrimage,
the piousamong
the wayfarers
doubt perform their devotions
would
in Thomas-kno
Becket's Chapel, built on
of the eastern
the
one
piers near
middle
of old London
mason
master
Bridge. '"A
being
the
of the bridge, builded
from
worke
the foundation
man
his
London
of
owne
on
Bridge,
expenses."
chappell
proper
Stowe, Annales, 1605,?" 251. This stone bridgewas completed
A.D.

1209.

5T

is

VISIT

TO

THE

VISIT

TO

THE

TABARD,

TABARD.

to congratulateoneself upon,
the having
actual Tabard, or
what
remained
of the
ancient inn, which Chaucer
has immortalized,in spite
Qf the Vandalism
of its destruction since.
The
editor
need
not
for
the
record
of a
apologize
reproducing

the

personal visit,describingthe place

present tense, by way of introduction
of the

13

something

seen

therefore

Pilgrimson

the great

day

as

to

of their

seen^

therefore

imaginative
departure.

an

in the
review

The state of the gateway

presents but a too faithful type of
the general state of the inn.
Its patchings and
its
alterations,
blackened
doors and burstingceiling,
and its immense
beams,
crosstell us, in language not to be mistaken, of antiquity
and

departedgreatness.

From

sky, and graduallywidens.

buildings,extending for some
of that
the right, the
on

the gateway the yard is open to the

On
either side is a range
of brick
littledistance ; opposite the end

left-hand
is continued
by
range
of the Tabard, a stone- coloured
wooden
first floor, which, in its course
the
gallery on
making a right angle, presents its principalportion directly
from the High Street.
It is supported
opposite the entrance
also of wood
it supports on
by plain thick round pillars,
; and
other
of
slenderer
in
the
bottom
of the
a
pillars
make,
front,
the

most

interesting
part

high and sloping tiled roof.

Offices,with dwellingsabove,
left
far
the
the
as
as
are
gallery,beneath which
range
occupy
stables ; whilst under the front portionof the galleryis a waggonwith its miscellaneous
office,
packages lyingabout ; and suggesting
of
the
when
time
as
thoughts
properly so
yet road- waggons,
very

unknown, and the carriers,with their stringsof

called,were
pack-horses and jingling bells, filled the ykrd with their
of preparationfor departure.
bustle and
obstreperousnotes
of the gallery,is
this
in
over
Immediately
office, the centre
"
well painted," of the
a picture,said to be
by Blake, and
the
or decayed that
now
so
Pilgrimage,
dirty
though
Canterbury
discernible.
itselfis
The
the
buildingson
right
hardly
subject
are
principallyoccupied by the bar, tap-room, parlour,"c., of
the present inn : to these,therefore,we
shall for convenience
give that appellation,
although the galleryand stables also still
stretched across
From
it.
the
to
to
inn,then, originally
belong
be
the gallerya bridge of communication, balustraded,we
may
similar
the
like
the
and
arched
like
bridge
over
gallery,
sure,
C

TALES,

CANTERBURY

14

proofs of this
connectingbridge are exhibited on the wall of the inn,in the
of horizontal planks, set edge-wise,
blackened
ends of the row
which once
supported it,and in the door,now walled up, to which
it led,that opened into a large room,
extending quite through
of the
the depth of the inn-buildings. On
turning the comer
in
ably
considerfind
b
ut
the
same
line,
standing
right-handrange, we
the
enter
back, the loftystables ; and scarcely can
we
size
their
before
we
extraordinary
as our
doors,
eye measures
almost
: we
are
acknowledge the truth of Chaucer's description
he saw.
deed,
have been the pjlace
satisfied this must
They are, instillexistingin another

part of the

yard. The

"

"

"

side is another range of buildings,

wide."
On the same
continued
into another open yard behind ; on the oppositeside
projects the end of the gallery; and here we find the other
connectingthe two sides,and which
bridge we have mentioned
is in

ruinous-lookingstate. The great extent of the

inn
when
be conceived
state that there is little
we
original
may
doubt but that it occupiedthe whole yard, with all its numerous
ing
buildings; for,from one of the houses in the High Street,standthe north side of the gateway, a communication
is still
on
traceable through all the intermediate tenements
the
to
gallery;
a

most

thence, at its furthest extremity, across

stables,and back again to the present inn
thence
rightthrough to the High Street once

the

from

bridge to the
and, lastly,from

to the house
more
the
of
South
side
the
on
gateway.
Let us now
walk into the interior. The master
of the inn, of
whom
with
alteration
of
words
Chaucer's
we
a slight
may
say,
"

"

"*

seemly

man

hostfe is withal/'

our

"

welcomes
at the door, and
us
kindly and patientlyinducts us
into all its hidden mysteries. Passing with a hasty glance the
bar in front
the parlour behind with its blackened
roof and
its polished tables
the
the tap-room
left
ways,
the low dooron
"

"

winding passages,
arches

"

broken

and projecting
ceilings,
chimney-

which

follow our conductor

we
everywhere meet the eye
through a narrow
door, and are startled to find ourselves upon
what appears, from its very contrast
to all around, a magnificently
broad
fir balustrade
in perfect
staircase,with a handsome
condition,and with landingslarge enough to be converted into
"

bedrooms.
On
the first floor is
the left communicating with one
reach
that

the

overlookingthe

door
room

on

each

after

side

that on
another, tillyou
:

bustle of the High Street ; and

the
the
to
on
right leading
large room,
formerly
the bridge.
In this room,
which
is of
opening out
upon
considerable
the
of
there
marks
cornice
visible
are
a
size,
yet
the ceiling. On
the second
on
is almost
story, the contrast
one

ludicrous

THE

TABARD,

IS

the noble staircase and the narrow

bedrooms,
which
from
within by an immense
bulk of masonry,
the
central
stack
of
chimneys) occupies
a
space ;
in from without by the boldly sloping roof : in fact,

between

pushed out
(enclosing
and

TO

VISIT

forced

evidentlynot intended for each other. The changes

induced
by decay, accidents, and, above all,by a gradually
and
contractingbusiness, which has caused the larger rooms
wide passages
and subdivided,as convenience
to be divided
for these
account
or
necessity required, may
prompted
have
buildings of the opposite range
discrepancies. The
of
certain
been
extent
nature.
to
a corresponding
a
evidently
manifold
These
changes have
produced a * Tabard'
very
diflferentfrom that of the memorable
when
Aprilnight,
they

were

"

"

The

chambers

and

the

stables

weren

wide

;'*

and the whole body of pilgrims,

numerous
as
they were, found
of the "best."
entertainment
the central part of the yard to the gallery,
Stepping across
also " shorn of its fair proportions."
ascend
a
staircase,
we
by
attracted by a retired
the stairs,
As we
mount
our
eyes are
latticed
modest-looking
window, peeping out upon the landing ;
in different parts of the gallery are
leading to
passages
of rooms,
of
them did
countless nests
forming (as perhaps many
In the centre
of the gallery,
of old) the dormitories of the inn.
i
s
behind
the
door
opening into a lofty
immediately
picture, a

and

each side : that on

the right is,as
"
"
The
of tradition.
Pilgrims' room
us,
looked
its honoured
we
walls, its
upon
and
above
the
chimney-piece,
panel
reaching to the
square
tillrecentlysome
ancient needlewhich there was
work
ceiling,
upon

passage, with a room

host announced
our
With
due reverence

or

tapestry,

on

to

cut

from

largerwork, representing,it is
Canterbury, and which probably in the

out

said,a procession to
days of its splendouradorned

of this very room.

Let it not
be said that we
have
devoted
too
much
space
of
this
ancient
inns
and
most
the
to
distinguished
; unless
be condemned
for our great men
time.
at the same
reverence
cities for the honour
From
of the
the contention of the seven
"
of
of Scio's rocky isle,"down
the blind old man
birth-place
the walls

countries have carefully

treasured
known
with
or
supposed fact connected
up every
the personal history of those among
have
them
who
raised
humanity itself to a higher level by their exertions ; and when
to do so, itwill be not hazarding too much
to say that
they cease
to the

present

day,men

in all ages

and

well at once
and philosophers may
as
great poets, patriots,
if
from
for
the world,
disappear
they are nothing not honoured
;
our

l6

CANTERBURY

TALES.

in order to be understood.
be reverenced
If,then,
interests us
admiration
of a great work
much
in its
our
so
all
localities
and
in
the
where
he
has
and
where
been,
author,
how
much
more
consequently we love to linger,
stronglyshould
where
such
excited
itself
be
the
work
has its own
feeHngs
home
and locality a
from which
as it were
particularbirthplace
it cannot
Thus
it is with the * Canterbury Tales *
be severed !
and with the Tabard
the inn where the dramatis
personcE of
"
"
that
Comedy not intended for the stage meet, in the hall of
and from which the pilgrimsdepart,
which its plan is developed,
carryingwith them an influence that mingles with and presides
all their mirth, humour, pathos, and
over
sublimity,in the
"
Harry Bailly."
person of the Tabard's host, immortal

they must

"

"

Let
restore

it to
walls

the

pilgrims'room, and assist us to

The
vening
intersomething of its originalappearance.
disappear : froni end to end of the long hall there

enter

us

once

more

those two* round pillars

or
each
end
to
the
oaken
beams
near
placed
support
massy
posts
and complicated timbers of the ceiling.The
chimney-pieces
and
ic
their
is
stead
that immense
and panelstoo are
gone,
from
wall
the
in
the
funnel-shapedprojection
centre, opposite
the middle
and
window, with its cracklingfire of brushwood
beneath.
The
fire
hearth
itself
the
pale and
logs on
appears
of the broad
of golden sunshine
in the midst
stream
wan,
the
windows
in
from
the
through
pouring
great luminary now
the line of St. Margaret's Church
in the
fast sinkingbelow
in
out
antlered
Street
Branching
opposite.
High
magnificence
from the wall at one
extremity of the room, and immediately
of a first-rate deer, a
the door, are
the frontal honours
over
monks
the
of
from
Hyde to their London
present probably
At the other end of the hall is the
and entertainer.
tenant
its
with
gHtteringarray of plate,comprising large
cupboard
bowls
and basins,ewers, salt-cellars,
silver quart-pots, covered
of the middle shelf is a
central
and
in
a
compartment
;
spoons
curious
with
lid. Lastly,over
the chimneya
loftygold cup
immense
with
its
attendant
bulk
bow,
an
hangs
paraphernalia
of arrows,
"c., the symbol of our host's favourite diversion.
is

no

obstruction

to

the eye, except

to and fro,some
begin to move
preparing the
for
of
entertainment
the
a
numerous
tables,evidently
party,
herbes
"with
others strewing the floor
sweet," whilst one

Attendants

now

considerately closes

the window

to

keep

out

the

chilling
evening

throws on more
of
fire,
logs. Hark ! some
the pilgrimsare
coming ; the miller giving an extra flourish of
the gateway, that they may
his bagpipe as he stops opposite
be
received with due attention.
Yes, there they are now
slowly
the
yard" that extraordinaryassemblage of
coming down

air,and

the
stirring

TO

VISIT

Tabard.

THE

tj

society,as diversified in
character
as
richly picturesque in
circumstance,most
costume
: an
assemblage which only the genius of a Chaucer
could have
brought so intimately together, and for such
admirable
Yes, there is the Knight in his " good but ^^
purposes.
^
"
"
not
horse,the fair but confident Wife of Bath, the Squire
gay
of the fiery
challengingattention by his graceful management
with the golden bells hanging
curvettingsteed, the Monk
from his horse's trappings,keeping up an incessant jingle.
But who
is this in a remote
of the gallery,,
leaning a"i'
comer
the
the
unobserved
but
most
most
observing
balustrade,
upon
individuals

from

almost

every

rank

of

in

"

the scene
individuals scattered
about
is of a goodly bulk,and habited in a very
colour:
dress,with bonnet of the same
from a button on
his breast
hangs the giltanelace,a kind of
knife or dagger. His face is of that kind which, once
seen, is
"
"
pressively
for ever.
remembered
Thought, sad but sweet, is most imto which
stamped upon his pale but comely features,
But
the beard lends a fine antique cast.
it is the eye which
most^ arrests
you ; there is something in that which, whilst you
able
look upon
to open
it were
as
it,seems
glimpsesof an unfathomhimself
world beyond.
It is the great poet-pilgrim
; the
of all the numerous
before us ? His form
violet-coloured
dark

proceedingsof the Canterbury pilgrimage.

is
the pilgrims,
host, having now
cordiallywelcomed
coming along the galleryto see if the hall be ready for their

narrator

of the

The

entertainment,making

the

solitaryman

he passes at
could
the hall,who

smile

as

of his merry
"japes." As he enters
fail to recognise the truth of the description
?

one

:"

"

A seemly man
our
For to have been

hoste
a

was

marshal

withal
a hall.

in

man
was
largfe
he,with eyen steep,
A fairer burgessis there none
in Cheap :
Bold of his speech,and wise,and well ytaught ;
him lacked rightenought.
And of manhood
Eke thereto he was
righta merry man."

The dismounted
pilgrims,
singlyor in knots,begin to ascend
the Knight, with a sedate and
the gallery. Foremost
comes
telling,like his soiled gipon, of long
dignifiedcountenance,
with giltspurs ; a redyears of service ; his legs are in armour,
sheathed
dagger hangs from his waist,and littleaiglets,
tipped
with gold, from his shoulders.
A nobler specimen of chivalry
in all its gentlenessand power it would
be impossibleto find
than this "worthy man
for his " truth and
;" as distinguished
^
"
*'
honour
his
for
freedom
and
has
as
been
courtesy ; who
in militaryexpeditions in almost every part of the
concerned

CANTMB

i8

y TALES.

UR

and
fought in no less than " fifteen mortal battles,"
himself particularlyconspicuous against the "heathen;"
made
"
is a
meek
as
yet who stillremains in his port and bearing as
maid ;" who is,in short,

world,"

has

"

perfectgentleknighl."

A very

"

the Prioress,smiling,so
simple and
Knight comes
now
every
coy," at his gallant attentions,and looking down
brooch
attached
the
to her
of
and then to the tender motto
gold
She wears
vincit omnia.
a
Amor
heads"
wimple, or neck*'
black cloak,and
handsome
a
covering, full seemely ypinched,''

With

the

the dress of the Benedictine

order, to
white tunic beneath
"
is
that
Her
is
to
which
nose
she belongs.
tretis,"
say, long
full
mouth
her
her
small,
and well proportioned
are
grey;
;
eyes
How
fair
broad."
her
"a
and
forehead
and
red;
soft,
span
gracefulis her evident distaste for her rank, because of the
and musical the
it entails ; how
stateliness of manner
plaintive
of that
evidence
of her voice, as she gives some
new
tones
her
of heart which would make
tenderness
"

"

Caught

Weep,

if that she saw

dead

trap, if it were

a
or

mouse

bled ! "

marked
than
the Knight's,and
scarcelyless graceful,the host receives his distinguishedlady"
courteouslyas it had
guest at the door, and, addressing her as
been
a
maid," leads the way to the table. In the Prioress'
and three priests; and next
train follow a nun
the
to them
Wife of Bath and the Squire,she laughing loudly and heartily,
and he blushing at some
remark
the merry
dame
has made
! the one
concerning his absent lady-love. Strange contrast
in
the
to
lips
seeing everything by
steeped
romance,
very
the " purple light of love," sensitive as the famous
plant itself
touch that threatens
to every
to approach the sanctuary of his
heart
where
the corner
the holy ministrations of love are for
ever
going on : the other no longer young, but stillbeautiful,
sensual and worldly,
consummately
as
utterlydivested of the
^
handsome
well be.
We
a
woman
can
1 poetry of beauty as
for it is difficultto look unmoved
make
that qualification,
her
on
winning countenance, so " fair and red of hue," and which is so
well set off by her black hat
With

an

attention

in

no

less

"

"

"

The Wife's
red surcoat

As broad

as

is

buckler

or

targe."

form is attired in a closely-fitting

luxuriant-looking
jacket,and in a blue petticoator "fote mantel,"

or

Visit

A
bound

"

round

her

To

tabard,

the

hippes large,"by

19

golden girdle. Well,

although
"

Husband^s

"

we

be

may

added

pretty

at the church-door

that it will
Of all the

sure

to the number.

had

she

five,"

be long before a sixth is

not
pilgrims,her companion, the

Squire,is perhaps

and
the most
poetical,
appears in the most
poeticalcostume, with his curled locks adorning his youthful,
dress looking
ingenuous,and manly face ; his embroidered
"

"

As it were

mead,
and

All full of freshfe flow'res,

white

red ; "

gracefuland active form revealingin every movement,

that he possesses all the vigour with iht freshnessof the " month
well as a
of May ; " that he is a " lusty bachelor
as
lover,"
while honourably partake all the dangers of his
who
can
one
be content
father's foreign expeditions,and
the next
be
to
"
"
all the day." The
singing or
doing nothing but
fioytingi
Knight and the Squirehave with them but a singleattendant,a
"
hood
of green," wearing a sword
clad in coat and
yeoman,
and buckler on one
side,and a " gay " dagger on the other,and
**
His
peacock arrows
having a mighty bow in his hand.
his
and
his
is slung by
under
and
horn
keen
are
belt,
bright
and

his

"

"

"

"

the green

baudrick
"A

his shoulder.

across

forester is he

soothlyas

guess."

remarked
that we
often hate those
been
whose
but
moderate
differ
from
to a
extent
much
our
opinions
own,
have
than we do those with whom
not
we
one
more
opinion
in more
in common;
are
thinking,perhaps, that we
danger
of
the
in
world
with
the
the
first
of being mixed
than
up
eyes
such
Some
to
with the last.
actuate
feelingappears
two, at
who
are
now
entering the hall,
least,of the three reverend men
the half-vagabond
and
Friar,
namely, the respectableMonk
It has

suspiciouslyon each other,

in
their
aversion
the Parson
before them.
to
to
seem
agree
He, however, with his meek, placid countenance, and crossed
of
hands, walks quietlyup to the table, quite unconscious
he has excited : his habit,a scarlet surcoat
and
the sentiments
hood, with a girdle of beads round his waist, proclaims the
ministering priest. And where, in the history or literature of
look for so perfectly sublime
we
a
or
nation, may
any age
|
before
in such a simple,homely shape as this now
character
who, whilst

looking somewhat

Playingon

the flute.

CA^TERBtfR

iO

in

TALES.

circumstances,but rich in

**

holy thought
work/' who, even in his poverty, will rather give to all his
like his brethren," for
about, than " cursen,''
poor parishioners
his tithes," who delaysnot,
us

poor

man

and

"

"

for

In sickness and
The

nor
rainfe,

thunder,

in mischief^ to visit

farthest in his

parishj"

and

who, though fullyqualifiedby his learning and abilities

full
highest offices of the Church, yet remains
"
his
patient in
adversity,teaching Christe's lore to all,but
that he first follows
time see
it himself.
lettingall at the same
No
wonder
of
this character finds little sympathy
a man
with
rich Monk, who
a
see
can
no
reason
why he should be
book
in a cloister,
he might be
when
a
always poring over
prickingand of hunting for the hare,"and whose appearance
"
of its owner
bespeaks the luxurious tastes and appetites
a
lord full fat and in good point." He wears
the
a black
gown,
large sleeves worked or purfledat the edges with the finest fur ;
his hood, now
thrown
back and revealinghis bald head, shining
"
under
is
his chin by a curious pin of
fastened
as
any glass,"
gold, with a love-knot in the greater end.
fill the

to

"

"

"

**

"

**

Friar,"

The

of knives

great

so

Now

he
certainly

fair

prelate,"

merry," with his tippetstuffed full

he is
pins (presentsfor the fair wives with whom
and lisping
favourite),
a

and

wanton

and
a

"

"

To

looks

is

make

his

For wantonness,

sweet
Englishr

still less inclined

upon

his

tongue

"
"

mortify his appetites,or

to

to

want

of the good things of life for any other reason

than the
any
with
of obtaining them
small
whilst
a
difficulty
him,
difficulty
;
there are riotous
or
franklins,"
worthy women," to be absolved
of their sins
whilst he maintains
his reputationas the best
in
his
house
w
hilst
his "harping" and his
beggar
;
or, lastly,
"

"

"

"

"

"

"

"
him
a welcome
guest at the
Friar appears in all his glory,with his eyes

make

songs
our

"As

do the starrfes in the

taverns

"

where

twinkling
"

frostynight."

the

of the pilgrims
supper-bellrings,and the remainder
of
in
each
the
a
glimpse
rapidlyobey
signal;
passing is all
But

Misfortune.

VISIT

TO

TABARD,

THE

that the time will admit

of. Foremost
the Sumpnour,
comes
of that " rabble " which
Milton denounces
a
summoner
of
the
his "fire-red
offenders to
ecclesiastical courts, with
cherubinnes
his
o
n
face,"and the " knobbes
cheeks,"
sitting
one

"

("Of

his

visage
"

the

very incarnation
immense
garland on

of

children

gross,

were

sore

afeard,")

depraved self-indulgence.The

his head, however, shows

he has
no
remark
his
attractions.
he
mean
opinion
Every
personal
makes
is plentifully
he has
interlarded with the Latin law-terms
the
but
how
beware
courts
picked up in his attendance
on
;
**
ask him
hath
their meaning : already he
you
spent all his
of

philosophy."

With

him

his

"

friend and
Pardoner, his lanky yellow hair fallingabout his
bearing before him his preciouswallet
comes

compeer," the
shoulders,and

"

"Bret

and
and

full of

also
containing

pardon

come

his invaluable

from

Rome

all

hot,'*

relics" the veil of "Our

Lady,"

The
Miller,who is
piece of the sail of St. Peter's boat.
marked
behind
listen
with
disrelish
to
immediately
him, seems
to his small
goat'svoice,and to look with something very like
disgustupon his beardless face : he evidently would half like
the gallery. Certainlyno
him over
to throw
be more
man
can
unlike the object of the Miller's contempt and aversion
than
the Miller himself,so big of brawn
and bone, with his stifi
from
the beauty of
spade-like beard and manly countenance,
time be confessed,the nose, with its
which, it must at the same
and
tuft
of
red
wart
detracts.
large
bristlinghairs,somewhat
His favourite bagpipes are under
his arm
in a
; he is habited
"

"

slender choleric " Reeve,

his
or Steward, comes
next, having his hair shaved off around
sword
and
his
intimate
to
a
long
side,
seeming
rusty
by
ears,
that he finds that too, as well as his sharp wits (on which " no
auditor " can
him
in requisition
to enable
so
win), sometimes
well to keep his "gamer."
the
The weather, the seed,
crops
white

form

coat

the

and

"

blue hood."

The

"

his conversation
with the Merchant
at his
is dressed
in a " motley " garment
of
red, lined
with blue, and figured with white
and blue flowers ; he has
Flanders
beaver
his head, and boots,with "fair"
hat upon
a
and handsome
of business is
clasps,upon his feet. The man
inscribed on his face.
for
the door,
beside
moment
a
Pausing
that he may
with becoming dignity,appears
enter
the opulent
of
the
and eminent
characteristic
the
Sergeant
Law, wearing

subjectsof

side, who

feature of his order, the coif,and

the
feature of the individual,
the homely coat

no

less characteristic
colours.
He

of mixed

CANTERBURY

2"

TALES.

full rich of excellence,but takes care

to be
only is a man
in
thought so by his wise speech ; and, whilst the busiest man
his profession,
he
stillbusier
be
is.
to
than
Such is
seems
ever
of law
the man
the Judge "full often at assize." Another
!
of Physic, in his low hood
the Doctor
professionalman
and
and
like him
to
bright purple surcoat
stockings; none
of
of
of
and
and
business
of
the
speak
physic
general
surgery,
the healingart ; for he is grounded in astrology,and keeps
not

"

"

"His patientwondrously well

In houres by his magic natural."
"
It is not, however, to be overlooked,that he knows
the cause
of every malady ""a knowledge that incredulous,
unimaginative
importance to his fame, as a " very
people may think of more
than the being grounded in astrology.
perfectpractiser,"
Let us
all lovers
commend
of good livingthe pilgrim
to
who
is next
coming along the gallery,this handsome-looking
and
white beard
stately gentleman, with the snow
sanguine
complexion, and the white silk gipciere,or purse, hanging ifrom
It is the Franklin,some
his waist.
time knight of the shire,
"
"
is evidentlysnuffingup with eager
son
Epicurus' owen
; who
certain
delicate
scents
floatinghitherwards from the
pleasure
kitchen,and offeringup prayers that no unlucky accident may
in
the delightsof the table,that the sauce
not
want
mar
may
sharpness and poignancy,or his favourite dish be done a turn
much.
He
is certainly
too
an
epicure,but he is also what
shall
: you
are
epicuressometimes
not, exceedinglyhospitable
of
his
without
baked
house
enter
store
never
finding great
meats, fish and flesh,or without experiencingthe truth of the

popular remark
"

"

It snowed

in his house

of meat

and

drink."

Lastly, come
crowding in together the Manciple,so "wise in
of
for the temple to which he belongs,dressed
victual"
buying
in a light-blue
surcoat, and littlelight-browncap ; the Shipman,
has made
"all brown," whose
hue
whose
"the hot summer"
and who
in " many
to
a tempest,"
seems
for his
be stilltreading his favourite deck ; the Cook, famous
"
has been
blanc-manger," who
preparing for the culinary
refreshment
exertions of the morrow
little
this
extra
a
by
the Parson's brother, a man
evening ; the Ploughman
ing
possessof the Parson's
the
much
and
spirit;
Haberdasher, the
of Tapestry,
Carpenter, the Weaver, the Dyer, and the Maker
with their silver-wroughtknives,showing each of them is well to
do in the world, and in every respect
beard

has

been

shaken

"

"*

Is

shapelyfor

to be an

alderman.'*

VISIT

THE

TO

only of the pilgrimsare

Two

the Clerk

of Oxenford

and

now

the Poet

"

TABARD.

23

missing from the board,

and here they come
; the

"

"
hollow *'
threadbare
garment, and with his
poor Clerk,in his
face lightedup by an
air of inexpressibleanimation
at some
remark
that has dropped from the lips of his inspired companion.

could

look unmoved
at such a character
in all respects
much
like his own
so
as the Clerk ?
a character
but rank and worldly circumstance,that we are not sure
but he
has here pointed out those mental
characteristics which he did
choose to include in his own
nominal
not
portrait; which, be it
observed too, is merely personal. The
Clerk has his own
love
of books, and study
And

Chaucer

"

"

Of Aristotle and

whilst of "fchaucer,
perhaps,
the Clerk,
**

Not

his

philosophy;

might be

"

justlysaid

more

than of

word spake he morfe than was

need,
of high prudence,
that he spake,it was
short,and quick,and full of great sentence.
Sounding in moral virtue was his speech,
And gladlywould he learn,and gladlyteach."
a

And
And

and fowl,baked meats,

brought in ; fish,
flesh,
boiled,high-seasoned dishes,burning as it
meats,
and others gailypainted and turreted with
with wild-fire,
the
liquorshanded round, due honour is done
Among
of
famous
ale, which the proverb says

Supper is now

and

roast
were

paper.
to the

"

"

The

nappy

Keeps

many

strong ale of South wark

a

gossipfrae

the kirk."

"
Strong *' wines, also, are there, either neat as imported,"
inscriptions,such as those of
according to the old tavern
pounded
Rochelle, Bourdeaux, Anjou, Gascoyne, Oseye, "c., or com-

"

of Hippocras,pigment,and claret.
under the names
carried by the attendants
in goblets
Both ale and wine are
and pewter.
of wood
Pilgrims have generallysharp appetites,
Chaucei^sare by no means
and
an
exception; they have
the business of the table.
in good earnest
commenced
"
is
the
reckonings '* made,
Scarcely
over, and the
supper
time been impatient
for some
before our Host, who has evidently
to tell the guests of the merry
fancy that possesses him, bursts
out

with

"

**

Ye be to

me

Lo, lordingstruely

rightwelcome

heartily
;

TALES

CANTERBURY

For
I

by

ne

saw

my truth,if that I shall not lie,

this year so merry
a
company

in this herberwfe^ as is now,

At once
Fain would I do you mirthe, wist I how.
And of a mirth I am
rightnow
bethought,
To do you ease, and it shall costfe nought.
Ye go to Canterbury ; God you speed,
The blissful martyr 'quitfe''
you your meed 1
And well I wot as ye go by the way
Ye shapen you to talken and to play:

For

truelycomfort, ne mirth, is none

as
a
stone.
by the way dumb
therefore will I maken
you disport,

riden

To
And
As

And
Now

I said erst, and do you

if you liketh all by one
for to standen
for to worken

And
Now

by

assent

Judgement,

I shall you say

when ye riden by the way,"
father's soulfe that is dead,

To-morrow,
But

at my

comfort.

some

my

as

be merry, smiteth ofifmy head.

morfe speech."
up your hands withouten

ye

Hold

easilyguessed ; the frank

hearty good-nature the gay jovial spiritof the appeal was
of the truest wisdom, Chaucer
cordiallyresponded to ; in a spirit
The

pilgrimsmay

of the

answer

be

"

says

"
.

**

they

so

"

Us

thought it was

bad him
"

not

worth

say his verdict

to make

as

him

it wise,'*

lest

:"
"

Lordings,quoth he, now hearkeneth for the best ;

But take it not, I pray you, in disdain :
This is the point,to speaken short and plait.
,
That each of you, to shorten with your way
In this vidge*shall tellen talfes tway
;
To Canterbury ward^ I mean
it so,
he shall tellen other two,
And homeward
Of idventurfes that them have befall.
And
which of you thatbeareth him best ofaLj

That is to say, that telleth in this case

Talfes of best sentence
and of solice,
Shall have a supper at your aller^ cost.
Here
When

We

cannot

in this

that

but

we

placfe,
sittingby this post,
come
again from Canterbury."

observe, by the

way,

how

this

last line

arbour
From
to inns,
apparently,a word often applied anciently
lodgings,"c.
Requite.
"
Lest, liked,pleased. * Viage,^'oumey. ^hX the cost of all.
*

"

TABARD.

THE

TO

ViSIT

25

the domestic
carries the eye and the thought back to
but one
halls
or
the large rooms
architecture of the middle ages, when
of a secondary and
of gentlemen's mansions
of inns, and
"
"
post
by a pillaror
supported sometimes
inferior class,were
each end of the room.
by one near
in the centre, sometimes
of the table,
the head
been
have
to
Near the post appears
in the proposed
Host
says the victor
; for the
the place of honour
"
this
sitting
in
here
place,
sit
shall
intellectual games
evidence of the dignity
"
characteristic
is
it
and
a
by the post ;
"
hosts " in those days to find Harry Bailly,
and social rank of
of a knight of distinguished
in the presence
host, even
our
of the i)arty,taking that seat as a
forms one
who
reputation,
told,but the Host
The
proposal is now
of course.
matter
it provides,and
the mirth
naturallywishes himself to enjoy
therefore adds

"

the morfe meny

gladlywith you ride

And, for to maken

**

I will

myselven

you

mine owen
will my
And
Shall pay for all we

Right

cost,and be your

at

whoso

guid^^

judgement withsay,
spenden by the way.'*

wjiK
propositionsare accepted by the*' pilgrims
"
him also
glad heart,"and they prayden

**

full

Both

"
"

that he woulde be our governor,

And of our Talfes judge and reporter
^
And set a supper at a certain price;
rulfed be at his device
And we would
low,**
In high and

morning the pilgrimsride forth,and

at once
reminding them of their engagement,
In the

duties

of his
"

Let
As

situation
see
ever

now,
may

the Host,
the
assumes

then

"

who shall telle firsta tale,

I drinken wine and ale,

judgement
Who
so be rebel to my
that
all
Shall pay for
by the way is spent
draweth cut, ere that we farther twinni^
Now
He which that hath the shortest shall begin,"
without exciting
the Knight,not
little
of
manoeuvring, to
a
Host
suspicionagainst our politic
of the rank of the party,
desirable on account
a priority
ensure
also what
perhaps the Host thought of more
and to compass
The
of his scheme.
commencement
a favourable
The

"or

"cut

lot falls

on

importance
"

Twinne,
"

go.

26

CANTERD

UR

TALES.

Knight begins with that noble tale,so well known by Dryden's

and Arcite.
Such
is the plan,and such
version,of Ealamon
of commencement,
of the
the mode
Canterbury Tales.'
With
wonderful
strength and consistency,the character of
the Host
is kept up throughout the work.
His undissembled
delightat the close of the Knight's tale
*

"

*'

Our host then laughedand swore,

is the mail
This go'thrightwell,unbuckled
Let see now, who shall tell another tale ; "
....

"

his
Monk
and

the
professionalconsiderateness,when, having named
the next
Miller interposes
as
spokesman, the drunken
insists upon firsttelling
his tale,the Host kindlysays"
"

Some

and
Abidfe,

levfe*^
brother,
shall tell us firstanother :
"
worken
thriftily
;

Robin, Abidfe,
my

better

man

let us

"
but finding him deaf to reason, bids him hastily
Tell on
a
'*
"
devil way ;
his dislike to the Reve's
he
sermoning," as
reflections on his own
characterizes the latter'smoral
past life ;
he reminds
his humour
the Cook of the many
when
a Jack
of Dover
(probably a speciesof pasty)he has sold
"

"

"

Lis

scorn

hath

That

of

the

been

twifes hot and twifescold ; ""

Franklin's

desire

that his

should

son

learn

gentillesse
"

**

his
as

Straw

for your

gentillessfe,
quoth our

host ; "

"

and his sympathy with its objects,

indignationat injustice,
his
observations
the Doctor's
tale (the
on
by

marked

his ludicrous contemjit for the

of Virginius)
;
business
of the exhibition of relics ;
made
a
towards
his peculiarly
tender and gallant manners
and, lastly,
shown
when
he
addresses
the fair,
Prioress
the
as

popular story

"

Pardoner, who

*'

As

"

courteouslyas

it had

been

maid

'*

of as true and genuine a specimen

to form
all combine
a picture
it would
be possibleto find in
of a good old English man
as
of
literature.
Our space will only allow us to
the entire range
with the
notice one
other interestingmatters
connected
or two
The
of
Host.
first concerns
his
domestic
a
piece
history
which is furnished to us, and from which we find that his lady
somewhat
of a shrew.
He tells us a few particulars
of her
was
^

Dear.

Visit

at
a

tabard.

the

to

tale,in which

the conclusion of the Merchant's

not very creditable part.
"

27

lady plays

mtxcy. said our hoste tho,*

fro.
such a wife 1 pray God keepme
and
subtilities
whichfe
sleieht^s
Lo,
be ; for aye as busy as bees
In women
Goddes

By

Now

Be
And

from

sothfe**will

"

But
And

However, thinks he, it is an

the more
what he

Let all such

that

too

wife,though that she poore be ;

is she,
of her tongue a labbing* shrew
vices
mo.'*
she
hath
of
a
heap
yet

I have

"

deceive,
they ever weive.'

for to

they us sillymen

he

unpleasant subject

so

"

thingesgo

"

prudently remembers

the

that
possibility

saying

was

**

And

told to her of

Should
some

reportedbe.
meiny ^

of this

'*

desists for the present ; but when

the subject is again
racter
home
the
to
contrast
by the chahim, by
brought
presented
so

he

of Prudence

in the

tale of

Mehboeus, he

cannot

help

exclaiming
"

As

am

faithful man,

And by the preciouscorpus Madrian^

I hadoe liever,
than a barrel of ale
That goode lief my wife had heard this tale ;
For she is no thing of such patience."

And

some

strikingproofs of the charge he proceeds

very

to

give :"
"

By

Goddes

She
And

when
bonfes,

I beat my knaves.
forth
the
bringsme
greate clubbed staves,
crieui,* Slay the dogges every one,

And break of them bothe back and bone.*

And if that any neighfebour
of mine
Will not to my wife in church incline,
Or be so hardy to her to trespdce,
When
And

she comes
home
she rampeth in my face.
cryeth, Falsfe coward, wreak thy wife !
By corpus bonhs^ I will have thy knife ;
And
thou shall have my distaff,
and go spin.
From
day to night,rightthus she will begin,
*

Then.

"

Truth.

"

Depart.
D

Blabbing.

Company,

TALES,

CANTERBURY

that
Alas, she saith,

ever

yshape

was

coward ape,
a milksop,or
with^
will be overlad
every wight !
dar'st not stande by thy wivfes right.

wed

To
That

Thou
but if I that will fight;
This is my life,
I must
And out at door anon
me
dight
if
I
I
but
that
Or elles
am
lost,
'*
Be like a wilde lion,fool hard^, "c.

Alas

! poor
"

Host, thine is a hopeless case.

Let

us

pass

away

But,

as

he say;i,

this matt^re."

from

interestingillustration of the times in connection with

arises from the general propensityto swearreligiousmatters
"
in the
Benedicite 1 '* exclaims the Parson
to the Host
ing.
An

Shipman's prologue,
"

"

aileth the man,

answ^r'd,O

What

so

to
sinfully

swear

Jankin, be ye there ?
our
quoth
hoste,heark'n^th to
good men,
I smell a Lollard in the wind, quod he,
This Lollard here will preachen us somewhat."

Our
Now

So

that to

host

abstain

ribaldryand profane oaths

from

me,

in the time

afterwards,
were
Wyclifife,
proofs of heresy ; as they were
lines
L and II.,of disloyalty! The
in the reigns of Charles
the
that follow are
us
as
highly interesting
opinions
showing

of

the very
time that Wyclififewas
at
actively
in
the
all
Poet
The
probability
was
"heresy."
propagating
something of a Lollard himself. Taking up the Host's prophecy
will give them a sermon
that the Parson
Lollardism

of

"

"

Nay, by

my

father's

He

We
He

Or

that
^

naught preach.
Shipman
no
gospelglosen here,nor teach ;
'lieven all in the great God, quoth he.
woulde sowen
some
difficulty.
"c.
springencockle in our cleane corn,

Shakspere
From

manner.

,'Garter

shall he not,

shall he

shall

conclude

We

soul,that

; here

Saide the

"

notice of the Host's character by observing

of it in a marked
has exhibited his admiration
of Chaucer, " Mine
of the
Host
the Host
our

of Windsor
is obviouslyderived ;
immortal
dramatist
should
in his copy have
I and that even our
been far from surpassingthe original,is surely the highest ot
I
imaginable tributes to the triumphant genius of Chaucer.""
*

in the

Overborne

Merry Waives

by.

"

"

RetrospectiveReview,*vol.

xiv., p. 315.

We

add, too,

may

to
original

VISIT

TO

that

it is

remembered,

be

THE

TABARD.

ig

probable Shakspere
only from

not

the

use

desired
of

the

the \
same

'

Host
of 1
but from the very peculiarities
general denomination
"
"
his Host's speech, Said I well ?" is his constant
phrase ; Said }
I not well ? exclaims Harry Bailly.[Pardoner'sPrologue,"c.]
"

"

"

here to follow the pilgrimsto Canterbury;

purpose
of
make
best
their
them
the
to
way,
so, leaving
that music, mirth, humour, wit, and
with all the assistance
pathos can give their minds, or that the delicacies of the time
furnish for their
can
as
by the Cook
prepared for them
let
at once
us
anticipatetheir arrival at
corporeal enjoyment,
of those numerous
inns
Canterbury, their lodgment in one
It is

not

our

'

such
into separate tenements, form
broken
a
still,
up
peculiar feature in the ancient city,and their visit to the
the sacred relics are
after the other
one
Cathedral, where
which they ^kneeling are allowed to kiss.
shown
to them, and
the
these relics are the martyr's skull cased in silver,
Among
that

"

"

he was
and the hair shirt
blade of the sword with which
slain,
he wore
at
the time of the murder.
Then, too, the dazzling
in gold and silver,
and ornaments
store of jewels,and vessels
if it be only
behind
shown
to them
a strong
grating),
are
(from
of
to remind
the pilgrimsof their origin,"the pious liberality

previous pilgrims:

hint,and
significant

powerful stimulus*

of pilgrims leave Canterbury, there will bt

Before
band
our
noticeable additions to the already incalculable amount
of the
wealth of Becket's shrine.
ourselves familiar with the plan of the
Having thus made
such
and
as
a brief glimpse of the personages
we
given
Poem,
of them, we
hope may induce a desire to know more
proceed
of
these
which
is
to the immediate
to
object
present from
pages,
Chaucer
the entire series of portraitsas painted by himself

junction of breadth and

length,and with a marvellous
from
their literary
minuteness
: a series which, apart
value,forms
far
of
richest
materials
the
by
body
possessed by any European
country for the explanationof the manners,
customs, characters,
of life and thought of the people during the Middle
and modes
Ages. And as the portraitspass in review before us, we propose
in our
comments
to illustrate as well as
to explain whatever
standing
or
seem
desirable,in order to a due undermay
necessary
and appreciationof the individual,or
the class to
at

full

which

he belongs.
characters
of the * Canterbury Tales ' may
The
be
into four broad divisions,
those relatingto chivalry,
to

religion,

professional

in

divisions

men,

shall

we

and
treat

trade
of them.

and

commerce,

and

divided
such

TALES.

CANTERBURY

jo

Section
---THE

CHIVALRY.

II.
KNIGHT.

wards
the existence of chivalrybackthat
referred
to
so
a
period as
very
"
in the
find
Vision of Piers Ploughman,"^ where
we
there
that David " dubbed
is
much
reason
knights,"yet
to doubt thetruth of the common
opinion which ascribes its origin
{hen first invented
to the eleventh
century, and considers that it was
;LTHOUGH

we

cannot

to

as

time

a
"

trace

remote

great moral

antagonist to the deplorable evils of the

of
closelyattentive as well as philosophical
analysis
the historyof European societyin the middle ages
proves this
deceitful.
rather
this
be
to
It shows
theory, or
supposition,
that chivalrywas
us
not, in the eleventh century, an innovation
institution
an
brought about by a special exigency which it
It arose
much
was
more
expresslyadapted to meet.
simply,
it
and
but the development
more
more
was
silently;
naturally,
of material facts long before existing the spontaneous
result
; for

"

"

of the Germanic
and the feudal relations.
It took its
manners
birth in the interior of the feudal mansions, without any set
the admission
of the
beyond that of declaring,first,
purpose
warrior
to
the
rank
of
the
and
man
occupation
secondly,
young
;
the tie which" bound
him to his feudal superior his lord,w^ho
him
the arms
of knighthood
But
conferred
upon
"

when

the feudal

once

society had

acquired

some

degree

of

and
stability

stances
confidence, the usages, the feelings,the circumof every kind, which attended the young
man's admission
the vassal warriors,came
under
two
which
influences,

among

them

fresh

direction,and impressed them with a

novel character.
Religion and imagination, poetry and the
church, says Guizot,laid hold on chivalry,and used it as a
of attainingthe objects they had in view,of
powerful means
which
it was
their business
the
moral
wants
meeting
to
soon

gave

provide for."
^

By Robert
[or William] Langlande ; the most
distinguished
of Gower
work that had appeared before "the productions
and
poetical
Chaucer.

KNIGHT.

THE

(from
**

knipjht was

That
To

Page 30.]

from

riden

the

MS.)

ELLESMERE

the

there, and
time

out, he

that

that he

lov8d

worthy

first began

chivalry."

man,

CHIVALRY.^THE
And
of

the

result

romance

our

31

of all characters,
whether

"

popular

most

for many

that strange incarnation of the most

nature
gentlenessin peace was
; whose

Knight
of

that character

was

reality,the

or

KNIGHT.

ages

"

the
,

oppositequalities

;
"

less remarkable
pious in faith as he was
no

as
ferocityin war ; who was
in
deed
held such pure and
uncommonly irreligious
; who
in the abstract,that they were
to him
loftynotions of women
but
of
no
a
women
longer,
species
earthlygoddesses,worthy

his

than
not

of all reverence,

yet who

and

the

at

self-devotion
life-long

time

same

but

to

often exhibited

too

their service
in his career

disregard of their true

between
the Knight's
discrepancies
of religionand love,doubtless
theory and piacticein the matters
there were
position
dishis
to
those
concerning
exceptions;
many

the grossest sensuality,

the
welfare or dignity. To such

in peace
was
"

"

their

and

being'send

and

of peace,

in the chamber

anything

war

humane.

more

most

utter

could be few or none.

War
"
Take
them," says Godwin,
it is impossibleto figureto ourselves
When
occasion
called to them
to
there
aim."

oppressed, and raise the dejected,overwhelmed

by
Gods
ing
descendlike
insultingfoe,they appeared
some
of mankind.
But the garb
for the consolation
from heaven
however
of peace,
gracefullythey wore
it,they regarded as only
the

succour

brutal and

an

of their character.

accident

favourite

scene,

the sustenance

itself to them at home,

earth,and sell themselves
occasion
of their

to
arm.

the

prove
When

to

of

war
as

not

rather than not find

their temper and the force
the field of battle, they
of dire and
matter
a
as

master

they entered

necessity,but

tremendous

any

of
intrepidity

business

the

regarded

they

their
War
their profession,
was
of their life. If it did not offer
would
seek it to the ends of the

their selected

pleasure. Their

then particularly
alive,and all their pulses beat
with
joy."^ Froissart furnishes a happy illustration of this
of the battle of Poitiers. " The
prince
passage, in his account

hearts

were

and cruel
as courageous
Prince),who was
this
took
in
and
a
lion^
chasing
day
as
great pleasure
fighting
his enemies f
the battle was
yet, when
over, and the French
the same
prince waited upon his illustrious
king made prisoner,
and delicacyof respect,
captive at supper, with a tenderness
The period of Edward
that it is impossibleto read of unmoved.
of his gallant son
the period of the most
is indeed
III. and
also
of
the
it
is
state
period of Chaucer ; who,
chivalry;
palmy
"
*'
the Knight
and
the Squire,"
has shown
the two great
in
us
of
character.
In
the
and clearlydistinguishable
knightly
phases
and
the one, we see the young,
loving,enthusiastic,poetical,

of Wales

(the Black

"

Godwin's

Life of Chaucer,' vol. ii. p. 237.

'

'

CA

32

UR

NTERB

TALES.

accomplished aspirantfor militaryhonours

aged

warrior,with

veteran

sobered

"

the
of its early romance.

much

down

whom

stem

; in the

other, the
of
life have
realities

A Knight ihtx^ was, and that a worthy man,

That from the timfe that he firstbegan
To riden out, he lovfed chivalry,
Truth and hon6ur, freedom and courtesy.
Full worthy was
he in his lordfes war,
far*,*
And thereto had he ridden,no man
Heatheness
well in Christendom
:
as in
honour'd for his worthiness.
ever
At Alisandre* he was
when it was
won.
Full often time he had the board begun*
allfenations in Prusse.
Aboven
In Lettowe*
had he reysfed*^,
and in Russe,

As

And

oft of his degree.

No Christian man
so
the
Gemade
In
at
siegeeke had he be
Of Algezir^,
and ridden in Belmarie.'
At

Lay as

When

he,and

was

they

were

won

at

Satalie,^

; and

in the Greatfe Sea*

At

a noble
many
army had he be.
At mortal battles had he been fifteen.
And
foughten for our faith at Tramissene**
In list^s thries,and aye slain his foe.
This ilk6 worthy knight had been also,
Sometimfe with the lord of Palathie,^^

heathen

Against another
And
And

he had

evermore

though

that he

a
was

in Turkey.
sovereignprise."
worthy, he was wise

"

Farther.
"

Alexandria,taken

in

1365 by

Pierre de

Lusignan,king of C3rprus

but immediately abandoned.

placed at the head of the table or board,as a compliment

extraordinarymerit.
^
* Lithuania,
Journeyed in military
expeditions.
" The
taken from the Moorish
Algezir,or AIge9iras,was
city of^
assisted at
king of Granada in 1344) ^^d the earls of Derby and Salisbury
the siege.
7
Supposed to refer to a placeor kingdom of Africa. In the Glossary
to
Urry s Chaucer, the
country in Barbary, called by Vassens,
Belmarie.
as
Benamarin/' is presumed to be the same
8
in Armenia, and
the ancient Attalia,
Satalie,
Layas, a town
were
both taken by the king of Cyprus before mentioned; the former in
8

He

had

been

to his

**

1367, the latter in 1352.

^
^"

Supposed to be the
Supposed to refer
Palathia

Mediterranean.
to

in Anatolia.

placeor kingdom
^^

of

Praise,

Africa,

KNIGHT.

ClilVALRY.^THE

And of his port as meek

as is a maid.
*
He never
said
no
ne
villainy
yet
In all his fife,
wieht
unto
manner
no
He

was

33

gentleknight.
very per fect^
for to tellen you of his array ;
a

But
His horse

was
good, but he ne was nought gay.
Of fustian he wearfed a gipon "
" with his
All Wsmottered
habergeon,*
For he was late com^n
from his viige.
And wentfe for to don* his pilgrimage.**

with the personal appearance

of the knight,
In connection
here observe,that in a very interesting
we
manuscript
may
of the ' Canterbury Tales,'written earlyin the fifteenth century,
sold at the Duke
of Bridgewater's
which was
sale at Ashridge,
of Sutherland, is now
Lord EUesthen belonged to the Duke
there is,
mere's,and has been printedby the Chaucer Society,
of each tale,a pictorial
at the commencement
representation
"
drawn
and coloured with great
of the relater. The figures
are
delineation of the dress and
care, and present a ver^ minute
Woodcuts
of them
of Chaucer's time.
in the
costume
are

present work.

In the

portraitof the Knight,the

is
folded

countenance

highly expressiveof sedateness

and
dignity. His
dark colour.
His gipon is also dark,
but his under
coat, which is discernible through the sleeves
His legs are
in armour,
with giltspurs.
at his wrists,red.
little
His dagger is in a red sheath by his side ; and he wears
of
with
his
neck
and
on
or
red,
aiglets
tipped
gold,
points
monk
the only male pilgrims
with gold
shoulder. He and the
are
The
artist has given the Wife of Bath gold too, yet
ornaments.
have ranked with the Prioress or above the Merchant.
she cannot
Possibly the illuminator enjoyed the Wife's Prologue so much
that he gildedher girdle,
"c.,in witness of his approval.
stirrup,
In Leland's
Itinerarywe find the epitaph of the noble and
de Gourney, who, in his life,was
valiant knight Matthew
at
the
mentioned
Belmarie
the battle of Benamaryn
(probably
by Chaucer, see the note to Belmarie in a preceding page),
and
afterwards at the siege of Algezir against the Saracens,
also
and
at the battles of L'Escluse,of Cressy, of Deyngenesse,
of Nazare, of Ozrey, and at several other
of Peyteres (Poitiers),
which
in
and
he gained great praiseand honour.
battles
sieges,
illustrate those
This
so
warrior, whose adventures
strikingly
of Chaucer's Knight, died in 1406,aged 96 years.
It has been
justlynoticed, as a peculiarfeature of the times,that Chaucer

head-covering is of

'

"Anything unbecoming

"

"

Todd's

'

gentleman." Tyrrahitt.
"

Soiled.

Illustrations of Gower

and

short cassock.

Coat

of mail.
Chaucer.'

"

Do.

CANTERBURY

34

TALES,

but from Alexandria

bring his hero from Cressy and Poitiers,
and Lithuania ; as though comparativelyslightservices
then thought of more
importance than
against infidels were
does

not

Christians alone were

brilliant victories where
cerned.
conthat it was
usual in the fourteenth
tury
cenfor militarymen
to Prussia,in order
to go
with
to serve
in a constant
the knights of the Teutonic
state
order, who were
of v/arfare with their then heathen
neighbours. The youngest
of Gloucester, and Henry,
duke
of
Edward
III.,Thomas,
son
the

most

It appears

Henry IV., were

Derby (Bolingbroke),afterwards
who
in
shared
these expeditions.
men
distinguished
among
the profession of
"If," says Speght, "any desire to know
thus :
those knights called Teutonic, it was
They having their
bound
and
to entertain pilgrims,
dwelling at Jerusalem, were
at
in war
occasion
to serve
against the Saracens.
were
They
did
apparelledin white, and upon their uppermost
garments
for that this order was
And
first begun by
wear
a thick cross.
received into the same,
were
a rich Almaine, none
save
only
nation.
After Jerusalem was
last
gentlemen of the Dutch
the
these
taken
1184,
Saracens, anno
knights retired to
by
Ptolemaida; and that being taken, into Germany, their own
there also the people of Prussia
used
country ; and whereas
their
incursions
unto
went
Frederick
confines,
they
II.
upon
who
them
their emperor,
leave to make
anno
granted
1220,
wars
the
the
and
to
turn
to
of
maintenance
spoil
their
them,
upon
After their conquest of Prussia,these knights
order.
grew rich,
built there many
and
temples, and places of residence
for
who
also
to
the
habit
of the order.
were
wear
bishops,
enjoined
will have his Knight of such fame that he was
Chaucer
both
earl

of

the

"

honoured
of this order."
In war, as well as in peace, the fantastic as well as the more
noble traits of chivalrywere
constantlybeing developed. The
Knight fought well,no doubt, for his God or his sovereign,but
that he
his mistress
it was
thought of while fighting; and
he enhanced
his renown
however
by his feats of arms, what he
the fresh lustre that he thereby added
valued was
most
to his
One of the strangest evidences of the existence
mistress' name.
is mentioned
of such
feelings,
by Froissart,
as
having occurred
Edward
III.'s
expeditions against France ; when
during
he
who
formed
the
the
knights
a patch on
the
says,
army, wore
that it should not be removed
a vow
until
eye, having made
worthy of their liegeladies.
they had performed exploits
The
times
of
the
at
assumed
knights
liberality
an
equally absurd
III. of Scotland
Alexander
repaired to London,
aspect. When
hundred
the
at
time of the coronation
attended by a
knights,
of
Edward
as
I.,the whole party, as soon
they had alighted,let
known

and

loose their steeds,all

most

richlycaparisoned,
to be scramble^

CIIIVALRY.^TUE

KNIGHT.

35

This
was
to the English
probably new
by the multitude.
chivalry,and no doubt startled them not a little; five,however,
of the English nobles
immediately followed the example set
them.
though a deep and
Lastly,the religionitselfof chivalry,
genuine sentiment, had nothing to do with the intellect,was
for

"

devotion

form,

over

elevation

the

for

of heaven
influence

but exercised
little
of life ; thus a knight's

earth,
"

every-day business

the

at

wont

was

of

times

to

assume

his heart was

most
in point, from
instance

when

even

is an
historian of
Here

chivalry,M.

de

St.

ludicrouslyindecorous
full of pious emotion.
the delightful French

Palaye

Stephen Vignolles,

with the Count

company
in
of
de Dunois, to
Montargis,
siege
Drawing
1427.
of the English, Lahire fell in with a chaplain,of
the camp
near
The
absolution.
he
whom
requested immediate
priest bade

sumamed

Lahire,

was

proceedingin

raise the

his sins. Lahire repliedthat there was

time for
no
the
had
been
of
usual
sins of
he
all
but
that
confession,
guilty
him
this
the chaplain granted
absolution ; and
a soldier.
Upon
confess

him

Lahire, claspinghis hands together,made the following prayer

in his Gascon
jargon : " God, I beg of thee, that thou wouldest
for Lahire, as thou wouldest
Lahire should
this day do as much
do for thee, if he were
God, and thou wert Lahire."
have
We
being sobered
spoken of the Knight's romance

down, but it is only sobered

down, not evaporated. With old

of the knighthood of Europe
universal
motto
the
and young
But there
during his time was, "Tout I'amour,tout k Thonor."
of
different
of
class
a
a
knights
was
kind, as Jusserand
very
Gold will be enough to give an
One of the letters of Wm.
shows.
It
idea of the sort of men
they were.
of Mantua, Aug. 9,
of Gonzaga, Lord
French
girl,Jeannette.
"
Let her be detained
at my
.

was

addressed

Louis
concerned
a

1378, and

to

suit,for if you should

golden florins spent for her, I will pay them

have a thousand
without
delay,for if I should have
I will obtain this woman.
Now, my

to

follow

her

lord,should

to

I be

Avignon
asking a

in this,for
trifle contrary to law, yet ought you not to cross
me
for
than a thousand
united
some
day I shall do more
you
in a matter
could effect ; and if there be need of me
women
of greater

import,

you

shall have

for

the

asking

thousand

spears at my back."
from
the Knight as an example of the
let us turn
But now
him in
to look
illustrious supporters of chivalry,in order
at
of England to which
connection
with the warlike system
he
has
been
silent
belonged, and which, though Chaucer
upon
in all the
share
have
a
the point, must
imposed upon him
military strength
great national expeditionsof his day. Our
and the heroic temper of
depended entirelyon the number

CANTERBURY

36

TALES.

able to call into the fieldthe sovereign was

secured by the service de chivaler^per serat
vitittm militare, or tenure
by knights'service,introduced
and
other
the Noinian
Conquest,
swept away, aniong so many
of the seventeenth
relics of the past,in the civil wars
century.
this. A soldier had land lent him
mode of its operationwas
The
six or eight
sufficient for his maintenance
; it might be some

the soldiers whom

nwfiber was
The

of the soil,and
the productiveness
circumstances
or other
the value of the situation,
; the income
20/.
be
old
until
or
15/.
produced might
per annum,
money,
toward the time of Edward
not to sink
II.,when the value was
his
It
add
his
income
to
to
below
was
hope,
40/.
doubtless,
in
battle ; or to raise himself to the rank of a
by spoilstaken
in the conquest of foreignlands.
feudal lord by sliaring
Any
his
valour
was
dependence ; for if he were neither by
way. his
a hero, nor
nature
ambitious,he was nevertheless bound by his
be
to
ready at all times to follow to the wars the lord who
tenure
to remain
with him in militaryservice
lent him his lands, and
h

ndred

acres,

accordingto

in every year ; a period subsequentlyincreased

to sixty,
of infeudation named
a shorter period.
except when the agreement
he found a substitute. The clergy,
If unable
to attend in person

fortydays

also compelled to find substitutes.

were
idea of knighthood in its simplestform,
its originalelements
reduced
to
land sufficient for
because
It
the soldier's maintenance, and
militaryservice for its use.
is important to observe that the land in all these cases
was, as
and probably resumable
have said, lent,not given at first,
we
the pleasure of the grantor.
But
the feudal system
at
as
became
and
consolidated,both partiesbegan to look more
the
at
have
it
we
more
arrangement
described,as one that
was
desirable to disturb ; and so it grew
into a custom, and
not
thence into a right,of the vassal or tenant
to consider the land
while he rendered the services originally
he .enjoyedas his own,
The
transition
after that to the eldest
was
agreed upon.
easy
the father died, and
assuming the same
position when
son
ultimatelyto the descent of the land in the collateral as well as
in the direct line of succession,females even
not being excluded
The
general idea of knighthood above given, varied in
infinite ways.
The
reward
or
some
wishing to secure
crown,
bold adherent, bestows on him
let
their
estates
these,
great
;
number
be
what
of
extent
consist
or
they may,
so many
knights'
fees,for each of which he is bound to furnish a knight for the
the
king's service. Through the Conquest, England became
entire possessionof the sovereign,and was
parcelled out in
this way into about 60,000 knights'fees.
But
often see
in the middle
that the power
we
thus
ages
its
given fcr the support of the crown
proved
bane, especially

I women,

Here

and
we

old men,

see

the

"

CHIVALRY.'^THE

KNIGHT.

37

in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.

The chief,able to
command
the militaryservices of so many
times
knights,was somelead
to
them
in
order
to war,
to curb or dethrone
tempted
his sovereign.
We
read of armies
of retainers ; and the word
is no poetical
licence,for soldiers of humbler standing,holding
half a knight'sfee, and
rendering half the term of service

knight,that is,twenty days, or a quarter of a

fee,and renderingbut ten days' service,often swelled
knight's

requiredof
the

ranks

of a knight-in-chief.
Other claims on
his vassals
In his warlike life,nothing more
grew out of the main one.
possible than his being one day taken prisoner"his vassal
aids for ransoming him ; his eldest son, ini
make
knights must
of time, must
into the order of knighthood
be admitted
course
their
aids
here, again,
are
required; his eldest daughter is,
wedded
their aids must
contribute
to be
to
portion her.'
"

"

Hallam

the commencement!
considers the aids to have formed
of moderti taxation.
Then
the heirs of the lord's vassals cannot
succeed to their fathers' lands without making him
a
reliejy
in
of
and
that is,a payment
the nature
if they
a
composition;
He
be under age, both they and their lands are in his power.
he
them
whomsoever
unless
to
pleases,
they ran
may
marry
of rank, crime, or
of disparity
make
good a refusal on account
no
weight is allowed to
bodily infirmity
; as to personalliking,
such a trifling
consideration
counter
to the
; if it happen to run
lord's views, why he makes
himself
with
solace
to
no
scruple
much
their inheritance,
of it as the proposed match
would
or as
In any case, he enjoys all the profits
have been worth to him.
of their lands until their majority; and if he happen to be in
of money,
he sells the wardship outrightto a stranger.
want
is a power
in all this,often felt as grievous ; but the lord
There
has to submit to the same
in respect to the sovereign. His own
of
full
without
succeed to his estates
cannot
heir,though
age,
There
making the king a present of a whole year'srevenue.
show
other services of the vassal, which
were
strikinglythe
between
of the connection
intimate and honourable
character
of
and
his lord.
"It was," says
him
Hallam, "a breach

faith to divulge the lord's

of others,to
machinations

counsel, to conceal

from

injurehis

fortune,or

person

or

him

the
to

of his family.
violate the sanctityof his roof,and the honour
when
bound
In battle he was
to his lord
to lend his horse
a
nd
while
adhere
his
side
to
to
to
fighting,
dismounted,
go into
His
when
taken.
attendance
was
as a hostage for him
captivity
due at the lord's courts, sometimes
to witness and sometimes
to
of
in
administration
the
bear a part
justice."
would
the granting of a fief,
So
as
important a matter
the
with
attended
ceremonies
accordant
be
naturally
by
ceremonies
These
of the middle
were
highly
customs
ages.

3^

CANTERBURY

TALES.

and
solemn, expressive,

and were
of three kinds"
picturesque,
characteristic
investiture.
is
curious
It
and
a
homage, fealty,
the many
loftysentiments infused in,and giving strength
j of
of these
honourable
to the feudal
system, that the most
the most
the
humble
ceremonies, that of homage, was
on
in
it
received
the
but
of
vassal
then
a
was
evidently
part
;
,

i"^"-''

'
^

t"

"

to

'*^''-

more

of the

at

payment.

money

'"

many
the

agreeable

than

and

were
greatly
promoted
latter,by
practicethat
expense
for
gradually obtained of militaryservice being commuted

became

'*

'

and affectionate spirit. The

frank tenant
(as the
generous
w
ith
freeholder was
uncovered
ungirded belt,
called),
head, and
with his sword and spurs laid aside,knelt on both knees before
his lord, who
placing his hands jointlytogether
sat, and
his lord*s hands, he spoke thus : " I become
between
your man
from this day forward,of lifeand limb, and of earthlyworship,
and bear you faith for
and unto
you shall be true and faithful,
that I claim to hold of you, saving the faith that
the tenements
I owe
to our
sovereign lord the king ; '* and having said this,
he kissed the lord's cheek, and the lord kissed his mouth.
of
No
oath was
here taken ; but in substitutingthe ceremony
that
when
of
for
or
ecclesiastics,
fealty
homage,
persons
of humbler
and social rank, were
concerned, the oath
military
only,similar in its terms to the declaration above stated,was
taken without kneeling,and not unfrequently
by proxy.
Investiture was
the formal
giving into the tenant's hands the
lands granted, and which
was
done, as far as was
possible,
literally
by the lord or his deputy, or symbolicallyby the
other of
delivery(oftenin a church) of a turf,a stone, or some
the ninety-eight
Du
modes
enumerated
prevalent
by
Cange.
Thus
the feudal system built up ; thus did it rise into
was
it declined and fell may
be shown
power and prosperity.How
As the vassal found his actual power
in fewer words.
increase,
by the acknowledgment of his rights,and the generaldevelopment
of the resources
of the country, it was
inevitable that he
should use it for his own
purposes, and that as he did so, the
of gratitudepassed
should
The
lord's power
decline.
sense
Trade
the
of
and
with
commerce
sense
dependence.
away

town

residence

war,

the

was

found

safer and

more

the
pleasant in many respects than a country one ; and lastly,
sovereign himself (by the reign of Henry II.)began to prefer
all times
of mercenaries
who
would
at
an
study his
army
he
if
studied
their
and
of
only
opportunities
pleasure,
pay
of
of
took
the
vassals
who
to
an
plunder,
liberty thinking
army

their interests as well

concerned
movement
every military
his
who
as
were
too often,to his view,reasoningand advising
in the council,
when
they should have been obeying and
in the field.
fighting
now

"

THE

(from
**

lover

full of

Short

was

MS.)

ELLESMERE

lusty bachelor.
was
he, as it were
fresshe flowres,white

and

Embroidered
All

the

SQUIRE.

his goun,

with

sleeves

mead,
and

reed.

long

and

wide.'

IPage

39.

CHIVALRY."THE

THE

3^

SQUJRE,

SQUIRE.

\ S in the

of the Knight we have seen a

description
complete development of that character which

full and

it was
the objectof the chivalric institutions to create, so in
the Squire we
perceive the preliminarystage of the
the knightly
it were, upon which
process
; the foundation,as
character has been built. Thus
whilst our knight fondly, but
that what
he is, his son
not
unreasonably anticipates,
(the
time
but at the same
day be ; he cannot
Squire)shall one
siasm,
remember
that that son, with all his youthful grace and enthuhis mental
and
bodily accomplishments,is but an
how
his
self.
has Chaucer
of
former
And
epitome
exquisitely
painted this young aspirantfor military
tion,
glories! The descriplike the individual it celebrates,is "as fresh as is the
month
of May;"
like the airs of that sweet season, it seems
filledwith the sense
of new
life of growing vigorous beauty.
With the Knight
"

"

there was
his son, a young
Squi^r,
A lover and a lustybachelor.
With lock^s curl'd as theywere
laid in press.
Of twenty year he was
of age, I guess.
Of his statiire he was
of even
length,
And

and ^eat
wonderly deliver,^

of

strength.

And he had been some

time m chevachie *-*
In Flanders,in Artois,
and Picardy ;
And borne him well,as in so littlespace.
In hope to standen in his lady's
grace.
Embroidered
was
he, as it were a mead.
All full of freshe flow* res, white and red.

Singinghe

all the day :

or
was,
floyting^
He was
of May.
as fresh as is the month
Short was
his gown, with sleevfes longand wide.
Well could he sit on horse,and fairferide.
He couldfe songfeswell make, and indite,
Joust,and eke dance, and well pourtray,and write.
*
So hot he lovfed,
that by nightertale
He sleptno more
than doth a nightingale.
Courteous
he was, lowly,and serviceable,
And carv*d before his father at the table."

In Fumivall's

Boke of Nurture' (1868)is an

of this part of the Squire's
duty.

"

Active,nimble.

Playingon

the flute.

"

amusing

tion
illustra-

military
expedition.
Night-time.

CANTER

40
"

Sett

More

UR

on
beaste,nor
fyschenor flesche,
for that is
and a thombe
ijfingurs,
with your righthande no maner
neuer

tale which
told
was
is referred to by Milton as

by

the

"

The

Squire

of the very

story of Cambuscan
first order

of

trewly

curtesie.

to

tale

fowlc

neuer

The

LES,

than

Touche

is

TA

surely.**

mete

the

pilgrims,and

bold,"

imaginative romance,

but,

unhappily,left

imperfect.
Chaucer's description,
we

To

of the miniature

a.dd a few words

may

illustrative

Squire in the

manuscript before
there curiouslycurled,and give the

of the
portrait

mentioned.
His locks are
idea of their having been "laid in press ; " whilst his short newfashioned Richard
1 1, long-sleeved
in the wind
cloak fluttering
Tale
is emthe Parson's
to the shockingness of which, see
as
broidered
"
mead
of the
so as to givesomething of the appearance
all full of freshe fiow'res,
white and red ; " the ground being of a
colour,lined with red,on which are small white spots or
green
His pantaloons are white,the upper part adorned
ornaments.
with ermine.
He wears
a lightbut high blue
cap, embroidered
in the front. His horse is on the gallop,and evidentlyunder
the Squireof
Such was
gracefulas well as skilful management.
the reign of Richard
II. at the age of twenty years, or within a
few months
of the periodwhen
into the
he would
be admitted
Let us now
what
and what
the nature
was
knightlyorder.
see
the details of that education which produced such results.
were
of
Up to his seventh year, the boy destined for the honours
the militaryprofession,
the females of
spent his time among
vjiefamily ; he then entered upon the first stage of his career.
He received the appellationof page, or valet,and was
admitted
to
the society of his father,and
of his father's friends and
visitors. If his family were
affluent,
sufficiently
companions of
his own
of
and
with
but
straitened
similar
views,
more
age,
educated with him in the same
were
circumstances,
house, who
became
who
his earliest friends and
and
often
associates,
his
remained
devoted
brethren
But
in war.
if,on
through life
the contrary, his own
family were
comparatively poor, he then
himself entered the house of some
other nobleman
or
gentleman
to
receive the requisitetraining. Among
earliest
the very
lessons instilled into his mind was
tion
admirathat of unbounded
"

"

for the
out

to

knightlycharacter,as

him, in

warriors

the persons

of the time.

it

continuallypointed
worthy and accomplished
was

of the most
Upon them

therefore

love

were

he looked with
of
standards
the
;
he set up in his own
excellence
which
he
would
mind, by
The physicalexercises calculated
himself.
constantlymeasure
to strengthen his youthful frame
were
now
begun. As he
awe,

wonder,

and

earnest

they

tmVALRY."THE

SQUIRE,

4!

the

and
duties of
period of the honours
love of God
and the ladies,"in the irreverent
but characteristic language of the time,was constantlycherished
in him : he was
taught,on the one hand, that no true votary
undertook
of knighthood ever
important adventure, or
any
into
serious
without previous prayer
entered
engagement,
any
exercise ; and
the other, that the knight
and devotional
on
of
with familiarityor
who
the
female
or
sex
spoke
thought
to his order,a most
disrespect,was a recreant
ignoble member
of a most
he
noble profession. Carrying out this principle,
of
the
o
f
to consider it one
was
highestprivileges his callingto

approached nearer
the Squire, the

to

"

be

relieve their distress or avenge

their wrong
; and
look
to
their
tribunal
was
opinion as the great
upon
where
all his actions were
where
he was
to be judged
to be
honoured
Godwin
or
disgraced by censure,
by applause.
remarks
which
that "it is the remnant
of this sentiment
has
given to the intercourse of the sexes, from the days of chivalry
and
to the present time, a refinement
a
spiritof sanctityand
^
It was, then,
honour
to the ancient world.''
wholly unknown
in
of
the
education
the
only a fitting
provision
page, that he
should select at this early period of youth, from
the
among
service
he
he
whose
whose
to
virgins
society
frequented,one,
able

to

he
lastly,

"

'

"'

the
devote
he might show
himself,towards whom
inculcated.
lessons
Thus
effects
the
of
so
practical
carefully
He was
raised to
i^
now
passed his lifeuntil the fourteenth year.
the dignityof Squire; and with ceremonies
that impressed still
ness
more
deeply upon the mind of the excited youth a consciousHis father and mother,
of the importance of the occasion.
of his near
two
e
ach
or
relations,
holding a lighted taper, led
which
sword
and girdlehad been
him to the altar,
a
viously
preupon
the ministeringpriesttook up, and having
laid. These
over
pronounced a benediction
them, girtthe youth with his first
was

,..

to

warlike

insignia.
During the next or final period,that of probationfor the
the Squire spent a great part of each
highestoffice,
day in the
conduced
alike
the
in
exercises
which
to
air,
vigour of his
open
body, the suppleness of his limbs, and the precision both of
his eye

and

horses ; he
trained his own
horseback
clad, in
mounting on
all his armour
; he scaled walls with the assistance merely of his
hands and feet ; above
all,he paid the greatest attention to those
sports which, as it were, prefigured the exploitsof that grand
in which he hoped one
day to exhibit his
arena, the tournament,
"
One of these was the
prowess and knightlyaccomplishments.
He

arm.

dressed

and

practisedleaping,running, and

Life of

Chaucer,'vol. i. p. 411.

'

CANTERB

45

UR

TALES,

Pel (inLatin,fialus\practisedwith a post, or the stump of a tree,

about six feet in height,which the youth, armed
at all points,
attacked vigorouslyon foot ; and while he struck or thrust at the
different parts which were
marked
to represent the head, breast,

shoulders,and legs of an antagonist,he was

taught to cover
himself carefully
with his shield in the act of risingto the blow.
Similar to this was
the Quintain,where the attack was
made
on
horseback.
A pole or spear was
set upright in the ground, with
and against this the youth tilted
a shield stronglybound
to it,
with his lance,in full career, endeavouring to burst the ligatures
of the shield and bear it to the earth.
A steady aim and a firm
fall being often
seat
were
acquired from this exercise,a severe
of failure in the attempt to strike down
the
consequence
shield.
cise,
exerThis, however, at the best,was but a monotonous
of time was
and therefore the pole in process
supplanted
by the more
stimulatingfigureof a misbelievingSaracen, armed
The
at all points,and
brandishing a formidable wooden sabre.
freelyupon a pivot or spindle,so that unless it
puppet moved
the lance adroitlyin the centre
of the face or
struck
with
were
smote
breastjit rapidlyrevolved,and the sword, in consequence,
the back of the assailant in his career, amidst the laughterof the
In addition
the young
to these exercises,
spectators.
and
each
other with
to
career
taught
against
squires
pages were
sometimes
staves
whole
or
a
canes
; and
party exhibited on
horseback
the various evolutions of a battle,but without the
^
blows
of a tournament."
Amidst
all this preparaor bloodshed
tion
for the warfare that was
to be the business of their lives,
they did not forgetto cultivate the gentlerarts and accomplishments
Like our young
of peace.
learned
to make
Squire,they
"
"
"
"
"
"
indite ; to
eke dance
well,and
songs,"and
;'*
pourtray
like him, they might often have
been
heard
"singing" or
**
floyting" all the day.
life involving many
He
and
entered upon
now
a
peculiar
essential principleof chivalry,that no office
duties.
It was
an
sordid if performed with a worthy object; and
was
so
pletely
comthis principlecarried into effect,
that the candidates
was
the

...

for

not
knighthood were
merely willing,but proud to wait upon
their superiors,
and perform for them
the most
menial services.
And
trulythe dignityof the person raised the employment and
made
it no longer menial ; the spirit
in which
it was
performed

gave it even
grace and
The
squires were

lustre.

divided

into

many

different

classes

to :
accordingto the employments which they were
appointed
viz.,
squireof the body or person, of his lady or his lord (the

Pictorial Hist, of

England,'vol.

i. p.

649,

CHI

VALR

firstof these services was

chamber, or chamberlain

K"

THE

SQUIRE,

43

grade to the second); squireof the

carving squire; squireof the stable ;

wine

cellar ; squireof the pantr)', "c.

The
most
honourable
of all these was the squireof the body, for that reason
called also,squireof honour ; a post calculated to prepare the
Squire in various ways for^thehonours and duties of knighthood.
Thusfor
while
a long time the youthful
Squireacquiredin silence,

squireof the

the art of
at repasts and festivals,
carver
ideas
his
with
The
Lord
de
Joinville,
expressing
propriety.
in his youth, filled this office at the Court of St. Louis ; and
in
their
children.
devolved
the palace of kings it sometimes
upon
Froissart particularly
mentions
that the
Count de Foix,

present

in

qualityof

young

like Chaucer's

Squire, carved before his father. The other

squiresprepared the tables,suppliedthe guests with water for
of the entertainment,
washing their hands, carried in the various courses
the pantry and cellar,
watched
and were
over
stantly
conattentive that those present were
with
provided
thing
everythe repast was
they required. When
over, they made
for the amusements
which followed,in which they
arrangements
likewise took part, with the damsels
belonging to the suites of
the squiresserved up to
After this,
the ladies of high rank.
the
the spices, sweetmeats,
claret, pigment, and
company
ended
which
such
feasts.
A bumper was
always
hippocras,
called vin du cocker.
also taken on going to bed, and that was
in actual war, due gradaIn these entertainments,as well as
tion
of rank was
carefullyobserved by the knights and squires.
The former
appropriatedto themselves the most costlyapparel
did not
the
and arms
permit their squires to assume
; and
dress
mantles
Their
themselves.
as
were
same
composed of
scarlet or cloth of gold, lined with ermine ; the squireswore
less expensive furs ; while the dress of
stuffs of the most
of woollen
the people
common
the attention,in short,
manufactured
colours.
So great was
the knights
which
they piaidto these matters, that when
the
damask
dress
in
chose
to
silks,
squires were
obliged
satin ; and if at any time the squires
themselves
to
to confine
silver cloth

and the
consisted

in
seen
knights were
of
velvet
stiff with gold. So
robes
again in their armour
careful
the
to
and arms,
distinguishthemselves
knights were
their squires; the latter being only allowed
from
a
slight
while
and
buckler
and
a
a
tough
weighty
;
cuirass,a sword,
lance, a hauberk, and a double coat of linked mail, rendered
This
the former
being considered, it
nearly invulnerable.
that no
it a point of honour
to make
certainlyhumane
was
Of
rendered
all
the
services
should
attack
a
knight
squire.
were

by

then

the

the
knight,

most

permitted damask,

the souire to the

importantwere

naturally

TALES,

CANTERBURY

44

with the
directly or indirectly
"
When
the knight
grand object of the lives of both, war.
mounted
his horse, the squires of the body held his stirrup
;
which

those

connected

were

other squirescarried the various

pieces of his armour,
the
the
such
the brassarts,^
gauntlets, the helmet, and
as
With
the road.
regard to the cuirass, or
buckler, on
careful of its preservation
less
hauberk, the knight was no
of their bucklers.
soldiers were
Roman
and
than the Greek
and
While
the sword.
Other
the
the
bore
lance,
squires.
pennon,
and

journey,the knight rode a short-tailed,ambling-paced

horses
led by
horse
a courser
were
a palfreyor
; and the war
the squires,who
always keeping them in their righthand, they
merely on

"

delivered
to the
of an enemy,
when
he was
about
or
knight on the appearance
what
field
of
battle
the
called
this
was
:
mounting
they
entering
When
the squirecarried his master's
the great horse.
travelling,
helmet
restingupon the pommel of his saddle ; and when preparing
for fight,
this helmet, and all the other parts of his arms,
offensive and defensive,were
given him by the different squires
called

were

dextriers.

The

war

horse

was

keeping, all evincing equal eagerness

in assistinghim to arm.
they were
taught the
By this means
future
of arming themselves
a
art
on
day, with the despatch
for the protection
of their persons.
and caution necessary
And,
which
much
skill and ability,
demanded
in fact,it was
art
an
fasten the joints of the cuirass,and
the
to place together and
helmet
fit
and
the
the
other pieces of armour
to
lace
;
upon
had

who

them

in their

head with correctness

When
ventail."^
or

; and

to

the battle

rivet carefullythe visor

the
the knights on
began,
selves
blows, the squiresranged themhad
whom
their
delivered
they
nail and

and

horses had come

to
behind
their masters, to
almost idle spectators of the battle. And
swords, and remained
of the manner
this usage might easilybe preserved,on account
the cavalry were
in which
ranged ; namely in one long line,

heavy

war

backed
by another line,of squires. These, though not engaged
in offensive war, were, however, busilyemployed in the preservation
In the
of their masters.
terrible shock
of the two
adverse
each
lines,rushing upon
other, with their couched

lances,

numbers

overthrown

were

raising themselves
defend

up,

snatched

and

wounded

their

swords,

themselves,while

and

battle

then,

axes,

or

others

endeavoured
avenge
seize every
their fallen enemies.
to
possible advantage over
attentive to the movements
On
these occasions the squireswere
with new
cf their masters, furnishingthem
warding off
arms,

clubs, to

Arm

M.

paper

or

pieces.
Palaye :

de St.
to

which

we

may

as

translated in the * Retrospective

Review,'in ^
here generally
our
obligations.
express

CHI

which

the blows
for renewed

VALR

might

combat,

or

F.-

THE

be aimed

at

taking care

SQ UIRE,

45

them, bringingfresh horses

of whatever
prisonersthey

in the field. A delightfulillustration of one

of these
made
of
duties
that of aiding in the defence
the knight in actual
is afforded by Froissart in his narrative of the battle
battle
of Poitiers.
The French
king John fought on foot,in the very
"

"

midst

of

him

dense

crowd

had
close by his
of combatants
; and
side his son
a boy of sixteen ; who, constantlywatching
Philip,
his father,and heedless of his own
danger, kept crying out to
a

"

blow

aimed, Father, guard yourselfon the

the left !" and thus probably
!"
yourself
on
"Father, guard
right
the life of the French
contributed
to save
sovereign,who was
after taken prisoner.
soon
when

he

saw

"

We

these

have before
services were

doubt, was

the

From

alluded

true

the

the honourable
spiritin which
the
by
knights ; and which, no
of the spirit
in which they were
dered.
rento

received
secret

records

of the

same

battle

we

may

adduce

an

the
example of the knightly behaviour to the Squire. Among
who
noblemen
selves
themmore
English
especiallydistinguished
the Lord James Audley, who,
at
with the
was
Poitiers,
aid of his four squires,fought always in the chief of the battle :
he was
hurt in the body and in the visage ; as long as his
sore
of the battle,
breath served him, he fought : at last,
at the end
his four squires took him, and brought him
of the field,
out
and laid him under
for
lefresh
side
him
to
a hedge
they
; and
unanned
well
his
wounds
could.*'
him, and bound
as
as
they
up
This had scarcelybeen
from
the
done, before a message
came
Black
had
of
Prince, who
evidently been full of admiration
and
Lord
conduct
which
such
new
Audley's
;
message
gave
life to the wounded
knight, that he caused himself to be
borne
in a litter to the Prince ; who
him
took
tenderly in
his arms,
him
kissed
"great cheer," and in the
him, made
of
the
most
distinguished of the English knights,
presence
"
said to him aloud,
Sir James, I and all ours
take you in this
in
for
doer
best
and
the
intent to
the
to
arms
:
journey
"

furnish you

the wars,
I retain you
the better to pursue
for ever
hundred
of
with
five
knight,
marks,
yearly revenues,
the which
I shall assign you
mine
on
heritage in England."
This was
act of the Prince's ; let us
whether
Lord
a noble
see
fresh
lustre to it. On
his
Audley's conduct has not added
to

be my

to his

tent, he

noblemen

of his lineage;
his witnesses,at once
and
divided among
then making them
and their heirs,the entire gifthe had
his four squires,for them
But the squireshad also the opportunityafforded
just received.
them
of exerting their powers
in battle for their own
especial
advantage ; such^for instance,as in the takingof prisoners. As
return

sent

for several

TALES.

CANTERBURY

46

proof of this,we may narrate a very interestingincident that

ot his own
occurred during Chaucer's
lifetime,in the vicinity
at Westminster,
residence and labours as a clerk of the works
and
with his friend,relative,
and in connection
patron, the
a

great duke

of Lancaster.

the battle of Najara, in Spain,during the Black

campaign in that country, two of Sir John Chandos'
At

Prince's

squires
prisoner ; who, according to the
Spanish nobleman
of the time, was
them
to
custom
formally awarded
by the
The
took
Prince
their prizeto
squires
himself,and Sir John.
him
allowed
home
in order to
return
but
to
soon
England ;

took

collect his

eldest
or

ransom

Time

son.

the

money,

detainingmeanwhile

passed, and

ransom

money.
of Gaunt, in the

brought
But

now

no
a

the nobleman's
man
of the noble-

news
new

state

of

things

prosecutionof his claims upon

hold
of
the
desired
to get
hostage, in order to make
Spain,
of him ; and induced the King, Richard, to demand
use
political
him from the squires. They were
willingto render him on
which
John of Gaunt was
by no
receiptof the ransom
money,
to
so
no
prisonerswere
willing
means
forthcoming.
pay ;
Search
was
everywhere made for them, but in vain ; and at
the Tower.
committed
to
last the two
squireswere
They
managed, however, to escape, and take refuge in the Sanctuary
at Westminster.
Enraged by their resistance,the duke did
of the place,by sending an
hesitate to violate the privileges
not
arose.

John

of the constable
force under the command
armed
of the Tower,
Sir Alan
Boxhall, to seize them
by force,if they could not
them
obtain
of
of them,
One
persuasion.
possession
by
himself
trust
to
without the
Schakell, was
prevailed upon
re-committed
and
to
the
Tower
was
immediately
walls,
; but
the other, Haule, refused to listen to them, and, drawing a
short sword, prepared to resist. They rushed
him, but
upon
remarkable
himself
with
he defended
spiritand skill twice
choir
of
round
him
the
drove
the
abbey
church, and still
they
of
the
he seemed
unassailable ; when
one
cowardly assassins
in
him
and
behind
clove his head.
some
unnoticed,
way
got
thus perished the brave
And
squire ; and with him one of the
of the abbey, who
monks
nobly strove to protect him. To
it took place during the
make
the outrage still more
gross,
"

performance of high
dead, and the other

mass.

in

Even

prison
"

now
no

"

one

one

could

the squires
discover
the

until the Court resolved

it was
not
to do at last
and so have
what it ought to have done at first,
prevented the
of
valuable
sacrifice
lives,namely, pay the ransom
due, that
cleared up, by a truly touching discoveryof
the mystery was
in the
the person of the younp^ Spaniard,
tha^ had seryed

prisoner;

and

of

groom

CHIVALRY."THR

hired

SQUIRE.

47

prisonment
during the whole time of his imin the Tower, and had previously risked his own
in the abbey ;
life in defence of Haule, at the time of the murder
in some
moved
degree, perhaps, by personal attachment, but
of the wronj^
should
still more,
we
say, by a chivalric sense
in defiance of all
that was
attempted to be done the squires,
of
the usages
chivalry.
hero through the last and
We
follow our
must
now
long
make
which
ceremonies
him
wished-for
to
are
a
knight a
Schakell

as

member

of that illustrious band

servant

"

whose

glorieshave

so

dazzled

youthful vision. At the age of twenty-one he is eligible.

and deeply impressive,
Solemn
to the least imaginative of
even
rites
the
those
concerned, were
attending the inaugurationof
He
first stripped of his garments,
the youthful warrior.
was
into
the
bath
and put
leaving this he was clad in a white
; on
of
tunic,as the symbol of purity; in a red robe as an emblem
shed
the
in
faith
of
the
the blood he was
i
to
cause
; and, lastly,n
his

black doublet, as a token of the dissolution which awaited him

Thus
well as the rest of mankind.
purifiedand clothed,he
as
evening came,
kept a rigorousfast for twenty-fourhours. When
the
and'
there
entered
the
he
night in solitude
church,
spent
and
His arms
were
piledupon the altar before him^prayer.

an

objectof

continual

and

fervent

contemplation. His

firstact

morning was confession,which itwas expected should be

than
usuallystrict and devotional ; he then received the
more
of the Eucharist.
The
of the Holy
solemn
sacrament
mass
Ghost was
now
performed, followed commonly by a sermon
on
of the life opening
the duties of a knight, and on the nature
His sponsors
(certainapproved knights)now
upon the novice.
accompanied him to the chancel or choir,and there pledged
for the rectitude of his future conduct.
The
themselves
priest
from the novice's neck, where
it hung, and
then took the sword
But one
thing
having blessed it,again attached it to his neck.
in the

before the hero or lord who

the appearance
investiture
of knighthood. To him,
the actual
to
was
therefore,the Squire (soon to lose that title for ever) went,
the honour
he
to which
and, fallingupon his knees, demanded
"
"
do
To
what
the
desire
to
lord,
end,"
aspired.
inquired
you
is
If
it
that you may
into this Order?
be rich,repose
enter
and be honoured
without doing honour
to knighthood,
yourself,
now

remained

"

confer

then

you

are

should
prelacy.'* A
you

question was

unworthy of it,and would be to the knighthood

receive,what the simonical clergyman is to the
modest
but collected and dignifiedanswer
to this
which
lord
the
expected ;
given,
granted his

request, and the proper oath

round the young man
thronging

was

administered.
and
knights,

Then

came

ladies,
freqjuently

CANTERBURY

48

assistinghim

TALES.

putting on first the spurs, then the

hauberk
breastplate, the brassarts or arm-pieces,
; next
and the gauntlets; and lastlythe sword.
he was
Then
dubbed,
the
modem
to use
English expression,derived from the French
adoub^, or adopted. The lord rose from his seat, went
up to
him, and gave the accolade or three strokes with the flat of his
of the neck, adding,somethe shoulder
sword
or
times,
nape
upon
of
with
the
the palm
hand upon
the cheek, saying,
a blow
of God, Saint Michael, and
"In
the name
Saint George, I
"
thee a knight ;
make
and, occasionally,
Be
concluding with
handed
thou brave, bold, and loyal.'*They now
to the youthful
knight his helmet, and brought him his horse,upon which he
"vaulting like the feathered Mercury" into the saddle,
sprang,
and
his horse
lance, caracoUed
and, brandishing his sword
On
he
the
exhibited
his
along the pavement.
quitting
church,
in
similar manner
and dexterity
to the populace outa
side
grace
whom
he
found
for
their
of
share
the
waiting
eagerly
;
spectacle.
classes of esquires who
We
add, there were
never
may
advanced
beyond that dignity.
to

arm;

the

"

"

"

who
had finished his warlike
happened, that one
and received his knight'sfee (the land that was
apprenticeship,
It often

to

support him
was

life,and
indisposed or
for

toils of war,

in the

and

made

which

he

had

heritance)
generallyby in-

unfit to spend the rest of his life

effort to get himself dubbed.
no

his
might be styled by courtesy, knight,amongst
There
other
were
who
squires,again,
country neighbours.
would fail in obtaining the necessary
qualification,a knight's
therefore excluded from knighthood. Statutes
fee, and were
were
passed to compel squireswho had the suitable requisites
of birth and fortune to claim knighthood, on
perilof distraint
their lands ; so that they might show themselves
on
properly
with
and
trained in arms,
for the
provided
accoutrements,
But
service of their lords,the king, and the country.
time
as
intent
the
nation
and
on
more
English
passed,
pursuits
grew
made
the introduction of artillery
alien to war, and
the study
Such

an

one

"

"

the business of a class than of the

and practiceof war
more
less and
less necessityfor compelnation generally,there was
ling
soldiers whether
liked
it
to become
not
or
men
they
; and
number

of

squires,comfortably settled

their
on
their
life
of
manors,
when
some
pressing occasion
peaceful enjoyment only
very
from the walls of the English
kindled the old fires ; then down
manor-houses
were
plucked the sword and buckler, often rusted
with disuse, and the coat of mail was
donned, and forth sallied
so

large

feudal

the fine old

came

at

last to

English gentleman

be

to

roused

or
fi^ht,

from

seem

tp

for
fi^ht,

CHIVALRY."THE

SQUIRE.

or
patriotism. We
friendship,
loyalty,

may

49

instance
especially

of the Commonwealth.
The
change would be when dubbing ceased altogether;
and the knight, and the landed
squire,alike merged into that
which
is
still
identified with country life
class
respectable
well-to-do Country Squireof modern
the peaceful,
days.
duties
Court
the
of
at
Edward
as
a Squire
On Chaucer's
III,,
*Life
of
Records
Chaucer
Part
the
Society's
Chaucer,
see
II.,'
of King Edward
Ordinances
Household
*The
II.,June, 1323
the times

last

"

(asenglishedby Francis Tate in March, 1601),with extracts from

No
Household
those of King Edward
IV.,'ed. F. J.Furnivall.
III. is now
known
of Edward
doubt
Chaucer
; but no
Edward
of
of
IV.'s
XL.
like one
Household
*Squyers
was
of there possession,
chosen men
worship, and wisdom,' of whom
'
going [walking]
twenty always attended the king in ryding and
him at his table.
We
at alle tymes,'and served
be
may
entered
with
of
his duty.
zest into this part
also that he
sure

Book

These

Esquires of housold, of

old

be

accustumed, winter
and summer,
eveninges,to drawe to Lordes
within Court, there to keep honest company
after
Chambres
of
of
in
Cronicles
there cunninge,
talking
Kinges, and of others
in
other actes
or
or
or
songinges,
pipeing
harpeing,
pollicies,
marcealls, to helpe to occupie the Court, and
accompanie
of
time
tillthe
require departing.'
estraingers,
We
not
depend on it that the Canterbury Pilgrimswere
may
had amused.
the first set of good fellows that Chaucer
in aftemoones

and

in

TALES,

CANTERBURY

i,o

YEOMAN.

THE

of
descriptions

the

FTER

continues

Chaucer
*'

the

the

Knight and

Squire,

"

had he, and servants no mo^

yeoman
At that time,for him lust6 rid6 so ;
clad in coat and hood of green.
he was
And
of
sheaf
A
peacock arrows, brightand keen,
belt be bare full thriftily.
his
Under
A

Well
His

could
arrows

he dress his tackle yeomanly ;

drooped not with feathers low,

he, with

had

not-head^

he bare

in his hand

And

mighty

a
a

bow.

visdge.

brown

could he well all the usdge.

Upon his arm he bare a gay bracdr,^
And by his side a sword, and a buckler ;
Of woodcraft

And on that other side a gay daggdre

Harnessfed well,and sharp as point of spear.
of silver sheen.
his breast,
on
A Christopher*
he

horn

forester

bare,the baudrick

he,soothlyas

was

of green

was

'

guess.'

says
(an abbreviation of yeonge-man,
of
class
included
which
fine
a
example
Tyrrwhitt)we have a
in the
of English manhood
of the pith and
much
power
very
and
which
to
trace
can
a
we
larg^proportion
old warlike times,
of our present powerful middle class.
of the robust qualities
visage is stamped with hearty honest manliness,
His brown
faculties as it has
the vigorous exercise of such
derived from
him
is a lustyfellow
wkh.
This
endow
to
pleased his Maker
1
He has a clear conscience,
Why not
to singand laugh with the best.
does
Chaucer
not
intentions
:
directly
though
and good

tell

Yeoman

the

In

we

so,

us

are

confident

as

of it

as

if he

had

; for

these
^

More.

the North

to the knob

at the end of a staff

froni
that
is
to say, like a nut
nut-head,
Tyrwhitt thinks it should
for
the same
reason
the hair beingcut short ; since called a Round-head,
"
two
3 " A
the
to
:
serves
save
one
Ascham,
purposes
bracer,"says
and
the
from
when
loosed
coat
the
from
it,
creasing
upon
string
arrow
and the other that the string,
glidingsharplyand quicklyoff the brarer'
*
2

still

name

given

be

"

may
4
over

make

St.

sharpershoot."
the patron of field sports,and as presidingalso
of course
the forester's
of the weather, was
pre-eminently

as
Christopher,

the state

his especialveneration,
the power
it
class
to
was
l^is
i^t^rest
saintly

guardian saint,the objectof

"^ all others among

the

which

propitiate.

YEOMAlT,

CHIVALRY."THE

$!

virtues are, to our

mind, guaranteed by that mastery of, and
love for an honest vocation,shown
in his dressinghis tackle so
of woodcraft,and
in
his
well
all
the
knowing so
yeomanly,
usages
generally in his graceful and gallantequipments. And
truly,
a

more

picturesquedescriptionof

pieturesquepersonage

one

a new
hardly desire ; and that descriptionobtains now
value
from its enabling us to form an
of
small
these
opinion
independent farmers ; who, most
important at the time of
Chaucer, and for several centuries before and after,have in the
end
of
dwindled
or
so
changed, that the commentators
away,
Chaucer
unable
like
to
seem
us
a
give
anything
sive
comprehenquite
definite view of them.
or
Nothing but scattered hints,or
isolated facts,
and these latter often contradictory,
do we find,

could

either in their writings

or elsewhere.
manifested
subjectrests, is curiously

why the squireshould

have

in which the
The obscurity
in their bewilderment
to
as

attendant,and
by assuming that

the knight none.

knot
the Yeoman
One cuts the Gordian
must
the
after
whilst
all,
knight'sservant
another,
be,
(Tyrrwhitt)
;
equallydecisive,asserts, Chaucer intended no such thing ; and
favours us with his own
theory, that the fact of the knight's
assuming
being without a servant, is " in unison with his reserved and uncharacter " (Todd). All the while,it is not perceived,
that the son of the knight has no independentstanding; and it
of any badge of servitude,
is hardly observed, that the absence
of the nobility
such as it was
usual for ordinary servants
and
and
the
character
of
Yeoman's
to
our
gentlemen
wear,
arms,
by persons of gentle blood,give
approximatingto those worn
that* he is no menial or serf,but a free-bom
to infer,
reason
in
the front ranks of the common
standing
people ; and,[
man,
in all probability,
a servant
by feudal tenure
only,rendering a
for lands that he holds of the knight and his
limited attendance
refers to this class of Yeomen, who," having
family.Waterhouse
either had
have
land
been
to great men,
servants
tenants
or
given to them, or by industryand thrift (blessedby God) been
purchasers of land in fee to them and their heirs ; and that in
such sort for the quality,
and in such
proportionfor the value,
be
made
that the law requires
to
of,""c. The truth
jurymen
life had many
degrees of
is,yeoman
phases, including many
of
and
varieties
kinds of
landholders,
servitude,many
many
feudal obhgation. Some
possessed considerable patrimonies.
Yeomen
are
mentioned, who lived about half a century after
able to spend out of their freeholds as much
Chaucer, that were
of
miller speaks of his "estate
Chaucer's
as
130/. a year.
often
in
held
that
tion
connecwas
evidently
yeomanry," a property
of the trades that more
with some
directlysprang from
that of millers, farmers, maltsters
the cultivation of land
as
"

an

CAtfTERBURY

Si
"c. ; whose

fee

meal, malt,or
the

right

,...,^f.Yeoman

of

would

to

some

the

TALES.

the lord would

generallypaid in kind,as
acknowledgment that
lord.
The
military
supported by the income his

be

other produce, as an
land still lay in the

in most

cases

be

land yielded,as the knight was

by his; and when itfellshort,he
would eke it out with the spoilsof battle,and with actual pay,
when
he served abroad, or for any great lengthof time at home.
We should guess, from the value and character of our
Yeoman's
his
that
is
of
patrimony
capable
supportinghim
accoutrements,
that
while
is
and
he belongs
he
roving about,
pretty handsomely
that
of
Yeoman.
mentioned
the
The
the
class
to
military
just
carried
in
somewhat
of
these
on
a
soldiers,
though
training
in
desultorymanner, may be said to have begun like the squire's
and
have
the
been
continued
to
steadily
childhood,
period
up to
of active service.
It consisted,in addition to the ordinary
and popular sports by which the frame
was
dered
sought to be renrobust and
agile such as running,leaping,wrestling,
of a modification of the warlike sports
swimming, and so on
of the young
nobility.Thus the quintainwas permitted to the
the substitution of a sand-bag and a board for
on
commoner,
shield and a Saracen.
The quarter-staff,
a
peculiarlyan old
English weapon, and a trulyformidable one, in the use of which
the Yeoman
of a
almost
consisted
without a competitor,
was
heavy stick,four or five feet in length,on the middle of which
with a grasp of iron, while
closed the hand
the combatant
slipped his other hand to either extremity with marvellous
rapidity; and thus, unless the stroke were
escaped with equal
quickness of eye and foot,brought the weapon
suddenly down
the head or shoulders of the antagonist. In defence it had
on
to guard the combatant
equal merit ; a turn of the wrist sufficing
that
side
for
wide
to approach him
a
so
was
on
every
range,
to impossible. Until very
next
recent
times, the quarter-staff
has been a favourite sport at our
ings
country fairs and holidaymeetthe
and
but
far
art
at
we
can
learn,
as
as
;
present,
mystery
of quarter-staff
has
The fond
fairlyceased from the land.
mothers
of our
degenerate days would shriek in terror,to see
their children engaged in such dangerous sports, as the youth of
Chaucer's time,from high to low, were
taught to delightin. It
is certainly
desideratum
that
the growing generation
no
longera
at
the
should be trained to war
same
time,they are not
; but,
likelyto be trained to that firm development of their physical
of the
training
organs, which war
gave them, and which is one
firstof earthlyblessings. Modem
effeminacyproduces a train
of miseries not less real or important,thoughtlessobvious to a
superficial
view, than the ferocitywhich throws so deep a
shadow
the habits of our hardy ancestors.
over
"

"

"

CHIVALRY,"
Yeoman

Chaucer's

according

is evidently
one
of his time

the statutes

to

YEOMAl^.

1 HE

53

equipped for " real service/'

requireda

; which

bow

of

a yard in length,notched
height,with arrows
and
the
fit
fletched with the feathers
arihe
to
string,
extremity
of the goose, the eagle,or the peacock. The use
of this instrument
and
Bow
entered
was
arrows
taught with exceeding care.

the

archer's

own

of children ; and
into the education
have
been the
would
favourite sport of youth,but that it was too much forced on them
by edicts of kings,and the authorityof nobles. By a law of the
tliirteenth century, every person
having an annual income of
hundred
than one
more
obliged to furnish himself
pence, was
in the reign of
with
bow
serviceable
and arrows
a
; and

Edward

III. all persons

compelled by proclamation

were

to

of days in the year,

practise archery on a certain number
exceptingduring the hours of divine service ; and at the same
of rustic sports were
time a number
forbidden,that they
strictly
time
the
waste
or
we
energies
requiredfor
might not,
suppose,
three kinds of
this important exercise.
In every villagewere
of a target
marks
set up : the butt,or level mark, in the form
with a buITs eye, shot at up and down, and on either side,and
with a very broad feather ; the prick,
requiringa strong arrow
with
"mark
of
a
compass," requiringstrong light aiTows,
of
mark
used
size
and
the
moderate
feathers
at
a
;
rover,
various
arrows
proportionedin
distances,therefore requiring

weight and feather.

Sports similar to that of the popinjay,so
described
had of course
a
admirably
by Scott in * Old Mortality,'
the
in
alive
national
of
love
effect
the
most
keeping
important
and
developing the matchless skill and
trulynational weapon,
for which the English archers or yeomen
became
so
dexterity,
No
renowned
therefore,
wonder,
they
throughout Europe.
gloried in the bow, as the knight gloried in his lance, and
the squirein his sword.
Many of the great victories that are
in our
national annals, may
be ascribed chieflyto
emblazoned
the greatest of all,
the stout old English archers ; and especially
know
that of Agincourt, where
which
to admire
we
scarcely
militarygenius of Harry the
bright consummate
most, the
that marvellous
directed and
encounter
Fifth, by whom
was
stimulated ; or the heroic daring and astonishingskill of the
it was
won.
virtually
archers,by whom
"

"

trait of

One
coat

the

in

and

spite of

gleams

of green,

to

be

spoken

His

of.

his hunter's horn, with the baudrick

of
the Christopherof silver,
that,

sylvan colour, and

same

beneath

so

hood

yet remains

Yeoman

our

the

them
on

stated

his

sumptuary

wearing
breast,make

from

by the poet

laws

interdictingyeomen

ornaments
us

aware,

in direct

of the
even

if

and

all

precious metals,
we

did not

words, that he is

see

it

forester,

,.^r

CA^TERBURV

54

TALkS.
-

jt,

delightfulassociations start into life at the

Hood
and his bold outlaws,
word, of Robin
of the umbrageous greenwoods, of the red deer bounding from
the dinglethrough the tall waving grass, and of all the pleasant
shine
peculiarmusic and sunsightsand sounds, that give their own

forester

sound

! what

of that

"

to the ancient

forest life !

of the enjoyment of royaltyand nobility

derived
So much
was
from the chase, and so large a part of their revenues
from
the
of
laws
for
that
the
were
peculiar
required
preservation game,
of forests.
These
laws
regulationand government
proved a
the Normans
of oppression,when
selves
sad source
possessed themthen used as the means
of
of the country ; for they were
and
them
feel that their
making
lowering the native English,
in its rich woods
beautiful land, whose
and meads,
pride was
of
the
be
but
must
no
theirs^
longer
property
strangers ; who,
if the dogs of the Saxon inhabitants happened to stray within
the wide limits that it pleased them to mark
call their
out and
"
the poor brutes for the rest of
forests,"
mercilesslymaimed
but a slight
their days ; or if their owners
committed
trespass,
would
hang them up on the nearest tree without judge or jury.
By the great charter of King John, every freeman might have
in his woods
eyries of hawks, spar-hawks,falcons,eagles and
herons ; but it was
of the
pretty nearlythe period of the Yeoman
before
became
than
these
more
rights
parchment ones.
poet,
bold barons, however,
The
if
who,
they practisedoppression
for their own
sometimes
ends, at least had themerit of resisting
it in their kings made
genuine, at last,those and the other
of
rights Magna Charta, on which the statelysuperstructure of
national freedom has been graduallyraised.
our
With the Knights and the Squirestheir Yeomen
have also
of
in
the
North
where
Cumberland
save
passed away,
England,
of the bow
stillknows them. Such causes
as the decline of the use
by the English,on the introduction of gunpowder, the breaking
of the forest system, the obliteration graduallyof feudal
up
well-toone
tenures, and the rise of the system of largefarms
"

"

;^'t

"

of former
absorbing a dozen or a score
yeomen's
for the extinction of the gallant old
fullyaccount
English yeoman
order, or rather its absorption into other
the
chief that retains the name
is the body of
orders,of which
do

tenant

holdings
"

small freehold

in
proprietors

the country districts.

RELIGION,"

THE

RELIGIOUS

Section
THE

RELIGION."

jF

we

ORDERS,

55

IIL

RELIGIOUS

ORDERS.

regard simplythe periodof Chaucer,undoubtedlythe

upon which
some
we
length,Chivalry;
for,as it had
ably
not longbeforesprung
so It didnot noticeintoimportance,
almost as brief as they
last long after ; its influences were
brilliant ; and but for the pages of those,who by a remarkable
were
coincidence lived during itspalmiestdays,and chronicled the
and the actors of that gracefuland imaginativesystem of
events
bloodshedding in its own spirit ^but for Froissart and Chaucer,
most

of the age

feature
peculiar
dilated

have

was

that

one

to

"

to us of the present day an

chivalrywould indeed have become
of humanity
utterlyeffete thing. But there was a sweet savour
beneath
the scheme
so elaborately
developedfor the destruction
of all the best human
littlebusiness it had
however
interests,

there ; and the historian and the poet saw

sequence
it,and have in conthat the world to the end of time shall see
taken care
If our
Could they have given us a finer moral?
it too.
mon
combe so noble,exhibit so much
can
nature
grace, beauty, and
under
of all others
circumstances
adverse
the most
self-denial,
to the development of those
what, let us ask ourselves,
qualities,
shall
surround
it by influences
whenever
it
not
we
become,
may
"

that shall be of all others the

most

favourable

undoubtedly the peculiarlycharacteristic

Chivalry,then,
look
III. and Chaucer
feature of the age of Edward
; but if we
to a wider period, ^to the middle
ages generally, the state and
of infinitely
become
mightier
phenomena exhibited by religion,
in
with
the
whilst
connection
own
even
poet's
importance ;
era,
much
of
intrinsic
circumstances
in its history
more
there are
than the rise and fall of such a melancholy artificiality
moment
named.
it was
that the movement
Then
that above
menced
comas
destined to break up the
under
Wycliffe,which was
the world had ever
witnessed;
most
imposing system of re'-gion
for though the actual and visible destruction did not take place
until the Reformation, there can be no doubt that the foundations
was

"

had

been

long before undermined

"

by

our

earlyEnglish reformers,

56
But

CANTERBURY

destroyed though the system

TALES,

was,

the destruction

was

different matter
from that which
overtook
chivahy. To
this hour many
of its elements
active
are
throughout society;
who
of
some
fancy they perceive the work
nay, there are

very

re-combination,to a state very nearly approaching the former

If this view be rejectedas
state, going on throughout Europe.
think
it ought, we may
all own,
a
s
incorrect, unquestionablywe
and be gratefulfor,the many
bene6ts that we enjoy through the
of
and
the
religion
religionists the middle ages. To them
we
in
the most
of all architectural works, even
consummate
owe
their present state
the knowledge, how
"

our

to

not
splendour ; when
paintingalso,lavished

God

we

may

also

worshipperswho

owe

ought

cathedrals

these
architecture

restore

and

to

them

we

may

owe

buildings to their pristine

only, but sculpture and

skill upon
the houses of
the
devoted
hosts of
will,
in them, rich and
be constantlyseen

their wondrous
to them, if we
to

mingled together,
poor, nobles and labourers, indiscriminately
all touchinglyacknowledging a common
originand end.
To them
the cultivation of the love of music among
we
owe
the people,
them with itthrough all the services,
by familiarizing
we
may
processions, and festivals of the church ; and to them
that
which
often
allowed
has
of feeling,
than
a better state
owe
the musical performancesof our cathedral choirs to be mutilated,
the paltriest
on
grounds ; when, too, such choirs had become
in thesublimest
rich beyond measure
ecclesiasticaland English
music.
We
to them
owe
our
drama, which sprang out of the early
and
it
church mysteries ;
to owe
would not be amiss if we were
loftier notion than at present prevails,
of
to them
a somewhat
To
that
s
hould
the objects
theatrical representation
aim. at.
them do we owe
and in a great degree
the revival of learning,
the multitudes
Grammar
Schools : and to them we may
owe
our
of students that ought to be able to flock to them, as of old,
when
Oxford
University alone is said to have had its 30,000
scholars.
of charity,
that still
We
noble work
to them
owe
a
many
here and there stud the country over
; the relics merely of a
scheme
of benevolence, unrivalled for magnificenceand completeness
the
right
owe
principles
; and to them, again, we
may
of dealing with the poor
make
which
can
a bad
^principles
extent
good, but the absence of which must
system to some
leave the best system worthless ; in a word, we
owe
owe, or may
exhibit itself in
the poor that must
to them, a sympathy with
efforts for them.
practical
to them
unending debt of gratitudefor
an
Lastly,we owe
of literature and science. For ages,
their services in the cause
"

RELIGIOl^,^THE

RELIGIOUS

ORDERS.

57

scientific
and friars were
but the monks
the literaryand
of
labourers
its philosophers,
England ? its poets, its historians,
its botanists,its physicians,its educators ? Where
but in the
who

"

libraries of the monasteries,were

the collections of the accumuof ages to be found, each day beholding additions
lated wisdom
of the

the store, through the labours

to

when

And,

entire

of

world

of Westminster
and
for

last

at

knowledge,
and

St.

us

look

now

the

at

but

who

Albans,

gloriousthing in the most

the art and its disciples
a

Let

scribes of the

printing came

monks

it,that

was

cordial

welcomed

themselves

themselves

the

to

the

spirit providing at
"

of which

these

new

once

service

of

the better

were

will show
us
points ; the worse, Chaucer
by and
the
In
different
hand.
unsparing
glancing over
in the
who
the spirit's
the men,
ladder,by which
devoted

the

themselves,

home

system

the

rium
Scripto-

revolutionize

to

by, with
"

middle

religion,sought

to

an
"

rounds

of

ages

raise

"

**

this gross and visible world

the starryworld,"

From
Even

to

of

dust.

"

four distinct stages may

be perceived; the highest occupied by
the monks, who
all practicalpurposes
lost to their
for
were
as
if
desired
what
to be, half
fellow-men,as
they
they were
really
into the heaven
absorbed
had
so nearly approached ; then,
they

duly succeeding each

the

secular

especial duty
monks,

other downwards, the

and lastlythe parqchi^

canons,
it

in

was,

regular^
canons,

clergy '; whose

complete opposition to that of the

and instruct their fellow-men.

To
the friars,whose
position may
perhaps
that of a body desiringto
as
the~present,
of all the other bodies,and
all the specialexcellencies
to

mingle

among

be added
these must
be best described for

include
who

enjoyed

When
the
Catholic
say
if we
the

give a
word, we

referred

peculiarorganizationaccordingly.
to the wilderness,we
had,
But
writers,the first foundation of monachism.
stricter and more
somewhat
to
just interpretation
a

prophet Elijah retired

should say that its real commencement

earliest periodsof Christianity
; when
their
devotion
and
zeal by
converts
signalized
to the

the

new

an

extraordinary severity of life and

who

became

known

as

of the kind

remarkable
people
called the Therapeutae, or

Mareotis,

promulgation; and,
Essenians, their

goods, the

love

who

of

adopting
and
religiousdiscipline,
The earliest and
certain Egyptian Jews,

were

Essenians, inhabiting the

embraced

observes

soon
Christianity

Gibbon,

"

the

austere

banks

of

after its
life of the

excommunications, the community

celibacy,their zeal for martyrdom, and

fasts and

of

many

be

or exercisers.
ascetics,

most

the Lake

may

of
the

'^

"""'^*'*-

58

CANTERBURY

TALES.

warmth, though not the purity,of their faith,already offered a

To
these succeeded
image of the primitivediscipline."
lively
very
who
carried
the Egyptian ascetics,
so
called,
properly
of their progenitors. "They,**constillfurther the principles
tinues
"
the
luxuries
and
tho same
renounced
seriously
writer,
the pleasuresof the age ; abjured the use of wine, of flesh,
and
of marriage ; chastised their body, mortified
their affections,
and embraced
the priceof eternal happiness."
a life of misery as
in all
but one
There remained
to realize monachism
step more
of
its essentials : that was
establishment
the
nities,
regular commuthose who
desired to renounce
the world in the
to which
might repair. And in the reign of
body, as well as in the spirit,
to induce
the ascetics to take that
Constantine, leaders arose
title of the immediate
and
obtain
for
the
to
themselves,
step ;
of the strange and
founders
for
wonderful
system, that was
centuries
exercise
the
influence
to
most
over
important
many
the spiritual
and temporal affairs of the eastern
These
world.
and
Paul
leaders were
Egyptians, their names
Anthony ; the
of
of the new
mode
the author
former, as St. Jerome explains,
life,the latter its illustrator. One powerful motive with these
Egyptian Christians for desiringretirement,appears to have
been the persecutionthat had raged, previous to the accession
of Constantine,against the disciples
faith ; but a still
of the new
greater impulse existed in the earnest, intrepidcharacter of
incalculablyenhanced
by the
Anthony, whose reputationwas
"
stories of the supernatural visitings"
he was
to which
subject;
and
after
it
of
Paul
all, was by a disciple
although
Anthony,
named
Pachomius, and not by themselves, that the first
been established.
And
to have
once
reallyseems
monastery
begun, it is surprisingwith what rapiditythe system progressed.
"
with rapid increase
The prolific
colonies of monks
multiplied
in the sands of Libya, upon
the rocks of Thebais, and in the
the south of Alexandria,the mountains
To
cities of the Nile.

peopled by five thousand

adjacent desert of Nubia were
and
the
traveller
still
anachorets
investigatethe ruins of
;
may
which
monasteries
were
fifty
plantedin that barren soil by the
In
of
the
Thebais, the ancient island
disciples Anthony.
upper
Pachomius
and fourteen hundred
of Tabenne
was
occupiedby
That
of his brethren.
holy abbot successivelyfounded nine
of women
the festival of
monasteries
of men
and one
; and
Easter
sometimes
collected fifty
thousand religious
who
persons,
in
Gibbon
followed his angelic rule of discipline."
refers, the
in which
is said to have
Pachomius
last words, to the mode
received his rule or code of rules for monastic
life,namely, by
special revelation from an angel. From
Egypt,monachism
world
abroad
the
Hilarion
took it to
over
quickly spread
;
and

KELlGIOlf,-THJ^

RELIGIOVS

ORDERS,

59

Palestine, St. Athanasius

to
to
Rome, Eustathius
Armenia,
St. Martin
to Gaul, whence, lastly,
Pelagiusintroduced it into these islands.
Omitting from our brief notices any mention of the thousand
fantastic shapes into which
and one
monachism
branched, it
will be sufficient here to observe
that the great body of monks
ultimatelyacknowledged one rule,and adopted therefore one
mode
of life and
discipline.The founder of that rule was
...^"
(t n
St. Benedict, who
however
borrowed
from
BasiFs
St.
largely
earlier rule.
He
in Italy,
about
bom
the year 480 ; and
was
in a cavern
of
at the tender
hid
himself
in a
fourteen,
age
desert
for a considerable
he was
time, where
supplied with
provisionsthrough the care of a friend,who had to descend
with them
by a rope. The fame of the ascetic soon
spread,
and
people flocked to him from all quarters. About 528 he
removed
Cassino ; where, having converted
to
Mount
the
inhabitants
from
overthrown
of
and
the
statue
paganism,
his
order
he
founded
which
the
Apollo,
bearing
quickly
name,
introduced
into England by
spread all over Europe. It was
St. Augustine and his brethren
in 596, when
to
they came
the Anglo-Saxons to the Christian religion.So rapidly
convert
did the order progress
here
in public estimation,that its
of time exceeded
in the course
of all
the revenues
revenues
the other monastic
orders put together. All the abbeys in
filled with its
England prior to the Norman
conquest were
votaries ; and, down
and
to the Reformation, all the mitred
parliamentary abbots, excepting the prior of the Knights of
St. John of Jerusalem, were
number
The
Benedictines.
of
Benedictine
in this country, as given by Tanner,
monasteries
valued at the dissolution at
was
113, with a collective revenue
''*
\\d.
there
also
of
were
57,892/. 1.9.
73 houses
;
of
Nuns, with a revenue
7,985/.lis. id.; making in all 186
t^"^'^".
of 65,877/.14J.
houses, with a revenue
Suppose we now
glance at the general tenor of a monastic
the communities
of this order.
day among
^
r^aJ1
'"^
^
The
matin
bell rings it is two
hours
after midnight ; and
^^"
the monks
rise from their beds, and put on
their rough and
unadorned
garments, meditating the while upon their past mis/.
^ \^,,
all issue
At a given signal,
deeds, and future amendment.
forth through the gate of the monastery, and proceed toward
make
the church ; pausing at the threshold
their prayers
to
for the excommunicated, with their heads humbly bowed
wards
tothe ground.
is the service performed in
Protracted
as
the sacred edifice,
all partiesare
expected to share in it with
the deepest sympathy, and
most
unflaggingattention ; and
be to him whom
the priormay find asleep,as he goes his
woe

St.

Basil

to

Pontus, and

Benedictine\

'

"

"

6o

TALE3.

CANTkRBURV

through the church,with his dark-lantern and stealthy

the most
zealous, no
doubt, experience a
step. But even
the dreary
of
to break
when
incident
sense
occurs
some
relief,
uniformityof the proceedings. The general sins of the monks
of generalpardon great ;
be black enough, and the necessity
may
rounds

but it is evident.how much

more

interest is felt when

brother

in broken language, acknowledges to the abbot

and
him
that has justcrossed
his mind, and made
evil
desire
some
unmindful
of the sacred duties of the pfece,and for which he
both are
beseeches
his and
God's
:
granted by the
mercy
of
all attempts at concealment, how,
abbot.
Mark
too, in spite
all eyes
is
and how
turned
neck
a
are
outstretched,
many
who
t
owards
the
advance
and
new
novices,
brightly
inquiringly
to
lay their petitionupon the altar,and who then prostrate
themselves
before the whole
congregation,into which they
thus ask to be admitted.
Perhaps they are but of tender years ;
in that case
in the altarthe parents, wrapping their hands
that
in
leave
them
order
to
they may
pall,promise
nothing,
afterwards have no temptationto quitthe cloister and
return
Prime
it is six o'clock,the
the world.
to
at last comes"
leave the
superioragain gives the signal,and the monks
Labour
demands
attention.
next
church
for the monastery.
ance
accordin
is
monk
From
till
ten o'clock,every
employed
prime
with his strengthand ability. Some
go to the distant mill
to prepare
to the oven
to bake the bread
the flour and some

gets up,

"

"

community ; others resort to the garden, and a few

the workshop, where
mechanical
to
operationsare carried
is
But
there
of
on.
a
are
species
work, which those who
fitted for it find so delightfulas to form
inconsiderable
no
for all the enjoyments that they gave up when
they
recompense
of the
quitted the great world without ; that is the work
Scriptorium; employing one, two, three, or four writers,in
proportionto the wealth and rank of the abbey, and the taste
then indeed
those
Favoured
and liberality
are
of the abbot.
it. See how busily
chosen
for the Scriptorium and they know
they plythe pen and the pencil.Here is one copyingan old Greek
and lookingoccasionally
book
classic,
very lovinglyat another
of
that the abbot
fame"
Roman
has justbrought him to be
What
transcribed.
next
exquisitewriting how firm and bold
his touch,even
in the most
capitals
elaboratelyornamented
of

the

"

"

"

"

turned aside to look

is engaged, heart
higher ability,
that
in
his
fellow-labourer
and soul,
a manuscript
illuminating
has copied. As you look at him, forget not you behold
the
earliest
what
called.
And
I
mark,
properly so
English artist,
lavished
those
luxuriance
of
he
has
and
fancy
upon
grace
how
at

he pauses
with head thrown
the effect ! Another
monk
of

back

and

RELIGIOUS

RELIGIO]^,"THE
borders
descriptive
the

figuresin

some

ORDERS,

6i

will not say much

We
for the drawing of
of his ambitious
compositions; but what

be more
and at the same
time more
harmonious
gorgeous,
than the colouring? Above
that he
all,look at the sentiment
has infused into the face of the Virgin. Is itnot indeed steeped
in beauty and holiness?
Ten
o'clock comes.
.The sound of
,i,\"/^^A.
is
it
the
heard
is
monks
footsteps
leaving work, and coming
;
to the library,
each for a book, with which to wile away
in the
cloisters the next
hours before dinner ; but the caligrapher
two
and the illuminatist stir not
their work is their recreation,
and
*'^*''^'
Twelve
o'clock at last! they
they go on busier than ever.
/v
the
No"
?
shall
Hall
to
much
too
they go
they are
pause
interested in what
they happen to have in hand to-day,to-quit
the Scriptorium; so they again proceed ; after the utterance,
of them, of a pious blessing on
the memory
of that
by one
nobleman
who
other monastery
a
appointed in some
daily
for the labourers in the literary
provisionof meat
vineyard,to
Well, in the
prevent the necessityof their being disturbed.
absence of such a provision
in their monastery, let us hope the
abbot will do as he has done before,quietlysend them
thing
somefrom his own
table.
Little as the monks
of the Scriptorium
regard the
may
hour of refection,
it is a great era m
the daily life of most
in the
See these monks
other inhabitants of the monastery.
can

"

"

the time,how
a littlebefore
evidentlyimpatientthey
getting. They have tried again and again to go on with
the book, but cannot
succeed,albeit it tells of all the thousand
excellent saints passed
and one
temptations that some
very
safely through. They have looked upon the pleasant green
sward around
them, which signifies the greenness of their
virtue above others,"tillthey have
undeniably humble
grown
of
admiration
virtue
that single
that
their
to
on
as
practical
;
which
the
ladder
in the centre, which
tree
implies
by
they
aspire to celestial things,until they feel uncommonly weary,
be owned, that the half hour
It must
and indisposed to climb.
awkward
is a very
before
dinner
time, to say the least of
since
the previousevening.
have
when
eaten
men
nothing
it,
for
do
the
rule
idle
if
break
implicitsilence if some
they
So,
the
does
excite
if
head
and
word, or gesture,
laughter" or
eyes
himself ought to
will forgetto seek the ground, St. Benedict
cloisters

are

"

"

"

be

able

make
trials.

to

some

allowance

human

for

nature

in

its

Self-denial is
the
monks
after all did
One
almost
might
suppose
easy now.
towards
do
walk
it.
their dinner,so circumspectly
not want
they
and Nonno
the words Brother
In the blandest
of tones
are
bandied about between the youthfuland the older
(grandfather)
extremest

Ah, there is the bell

at

last !

CANTEkB

Ci

; with

monks

the meekest

UR

reverence

TALES.
does

the

junior monk

ask

benediction

from
the senior on
meeting ; or with the most
after he has taken his seat,
poHshed courtesy does he rise,even
the
offer
to
it to
other,and only re-seat himself when bidden.
Dinner
It is simple enough.
commences.
Fish, vegetables,
fruit ; with a pound of bread to each monk
and
three-quarters
;

of

pintof

last him both for dinner and supper.

Not
wanted
for
asked
is
is
Whatever
spoken.
by signs.
of the
the Bible is read the while by one
A passage from
monks, who holds the office in due rotation with his fellows,
for the space of a week.
to
After dinner,or from about one
three o'clock,is the meridian, or time for sleep,unless any
prefer reading ; then labour again ; then supper, consistingof
of the dinner wine ; then
of bread, and
the remains
a pound
service
and
to bed in the dormitory ;
or
lastly,
evening
;
vespers,
where they sleepin their clothes,
old and
wearing their girdles,
intermixed ; and where, if we
believe the satirist,
may
young
the natural animal spirits
of the monks, as men,
will sometimes
break out in irrepressible
The Frere,says Barclay,
exuberance.
in his Ship of Fools,or
a

word

wine

to

is

"

Must

Monk
in his frock and cowl
dance in his dorter,
leapingto

play the fool."

of such a system of life on the part

the observance
the abbot
of the inhabitants of the monastery,
was
entrusted
with the most
despotic powers ; he could punish at his will
and
pleasure, either by simple confinement, by corporeal
chastisement,or by expulsion. An amusing evidence of his
in the rule that bids the
is furnished by the passage
supremacy,
who
be told by his superiorto do impossiblethings,
monk
may
that he is at libertyhumbly to represent that they are
possible
imh
e
is
that
that
to
if
appeal fail,
; but
go on tiyingeven
the impossibilities,
to overcome
relyingupon the assistance of
in his extremity. To aid the abbot, there were
God
numerous
officers of departments appointed ; such, for instance,as
the
and
there
steward
cellarer
in
or
was
also,
;
high
large
very
To

ensure

These
all
were
every ten monks.
himself elected by the whole
chosen
by the abbot ; who was
society; a very important fact,as showing (in the earlier and
of a monastery,
purer days of the order at least)that the abbot
in ordinary cases, must
have been
not
only distinguishedby
of a holy life,
and a prudent,thoughtfulmind,
the qualifications
as requiredby the rule ; but also by such
as
personalqualities
of
his
could alone win the love and
respect
brethren, and
to the abbatial chair. It
induce them
to elevate him
appears
also, that in progress of time, various accomplishments were

houses, a
"

dean

placed

over

RELIGIOM.-THE

RELIGIOUS

ORDERS.

63

Thus, in the thirteenth century,

of St. Swithin's at Winchester, recommending
of their brethren
of Hyde, as a
to the convent
one
his
to fillthe abbacy then
vacant, include among
proper person
other and more
his knowledge of glossspiritual
qualifications,
ing,
and chanting.
writing,illuminating,
There
is an old story, which Walton
and others have treated
Oxford
as authentic,to the effect that some
Benedictines,near
let in two
their
who
University,once
sought
tality,
hospistrangers,
and made
them welcome
under the belief that they were
their travels,
who
them
could amuse
the supper table,
on
over
but finding that the visitors were
monks
turned them
adrift with what the French
call " injuries."
branches
of the great order to which
Chaucer's
The
Monk
Prioress
historians
and
have
belonged, were
;
ver"' numerous
recorded
the names
of twenty-three,and
others have
been
shall here mention
We
probably altogetheroverlooked.
only

expected to be
prior and

the

superadded.

convent

..

"

four principalones.
The
or
Chmiacs, the first offshoot
the Benedictine
it
ing
accordtree, were,
appears, Benedictines
been
to the spiritof the rule,which
too
had
they thought
literally
interpreted.But that was not the only objecttheyhad
in view.
Monachism, by the eleventh century, had fallen mto a
deplorablestate,through France, England, and Spain ; and it is

three

from

said the

houses
religious

"

far from
so
observingthe rule
in
the name
of
of
knew
them, that they scarce
it"
Cluniacs sprang up to redeem
the religious
bodies of
The
Europe from their disgracefulstate of ignorance and consequent
Their
virtual founder
sloth.
was
Bernon, abbot of Gigni,
their nominal
in Burgundy
of Cluny, under
one, Odon, abbot
the
whose
order became
new
auspices
fomiallyestablished. An
amusing writer of the 13th century, Guyot de Provins, who
were

Benedict

St.

"

seems

to have

him

possessed too great

to settle any

restlessness of

to
disposition

the round of
where,
any
in
different
what
order
he
the
to see
orders,
thought of them,
that he might thus be able to attach himself permanently to
the pleasantest. Hear his report of the Cluniacs:
"When
you
wish to sleep,they waken
when
wish
to
you
eat, they make
you ;
The
night is passed in praying in the church, he
you fast.
and
day in working, and there is no repose but in the refectory
y
what
is to be found there ? Rotten
with all their
eggs, beans
eaten,]and liquorfitt for
pods, [which,Du Cange says, were
For the wine is so poor
that one
oxen.
might drink of it a
without intoxication."
month
The Cistercians,
a second
branch, suited 'i.J^'^"
great Benedictine
allow

or

to

thing ; went

"

our

minstrel

coveted

monk
all kinds

better.
no
And, considering that
and
of desolate
solitaryplaces, it

they
was

CANTERBURY

64

TALES,

But Guyot seems

hardly likelythat it should be otherwise.
to
complain chieflyof their selfishness and hypocrisy. The
abbot and cellarer he charges with eating and drinking of the
for those who
to the refectory,
best, and sending the worst
**
I have
do the work.
seen,**he adds, " these monks
put
in the
pigsties in the churchyards, and stables for asses
chapels. They seize the cottages of the poor, and reduce them
About
to beggary."
not long after its foundation
1 128,and
on
the Continent,this order was
brought into England, where it
obtained so much
of novelty
repute, while yet the first bloom
that
monasteries
with
was
it,
astonishing
sprang
upon
up
not
less than
rapidityall over the country ; until there were
Cistercian abbeys, manjr of the first rank for size,
seventy-five

wealth, and

power

; and

twenty-sixCistercian

nunneries

; besides

how many
petty subordinate houses, or cells. It is
that since the revolution in France,
of
notice,
unworthy
and other countries,
Roman
Catholic communities
have
many
established themselves
in England.
The
Grandmon
tines,a comparativelyminor branch, were
Benedictines
all but this, that they made
alterations or
in
additions to the rule,in order to check the luxury and wealth
arid worldliness of the parent monks.
To
obtain the object
divided
their
into
number
of which
two bodies,one
sought,they
of the house affairs,
undertook
the management
whilst the other
devoted
to ceaseless
was
contemplation. Guyot de Provins,
while informing us what was
the result of this division,gives
another of his satirical,
but apparently true illustrations,
of the
of the contemplationswhich
nature
at
least,of the
some,
eremites revelled in. Besides their " fondness of good
absorbed
remarkable
ridiculous foppery.
for the most
cheer,"they were
"
their
washed
and
covered
They painted
cheeks,
up their beards
do their hair),in order that they might look
at night(as women
handsome
and glittering
the next day. They were
on
entirely
the
governed by
lay brothers,who got possessionof their money,
and with it buying the court of Rome, obtained the supervision
of the order."
shall mention, is the CarThe last of the branches
that we
the strictest of all the religious
thusian order,which was
bodies ;
know

we

not

not

."^

eating flesh,fastingone day in every week, on bread,

salt ; and
within the
confining all its members
water, and
never

boundaries

of the monastery.
These
and
their
a
s
life, might have
knows^"

recorder
does
not
expected,
"
"
They have," he says, each habitations ; every
tempt him.
is his own
cook ; every one
eats and sleepsalone,and I do
one
whether God is much
not know
delightedwith all this ; but this
I well know, that if I were
myself in Paradise,and alone there,
"

men,

been

too,

our

REUGION."THE
I should

wish

not

bad

to

immure

RELIGIOUS

to remain

in it. A

temper.

who

wish

me

to

I particularlydislike
what
they are murderers of their sick,
little extraordinary nourishment, it is

myself in this

way.
is, that

in the Carthusians
if these
require any
peremptorily refused.

fools

65

is always subject

man
solitary

I call those

Thus

ORDERS,

But

I do not
like religiouspersons
who
I
the
no
pity ;
quahty which,
think, they espevery
cially
The
Carthusians,it seems, passed the
ought to have."
limits within
alone austerities could become
which
popular.
There
and
in the
but 167 monasteries
were
nunneries,
5
whole
of this order
established
the
Catholic
throughout
world ; of these there were
in England nine of the former
Charterhouse
is the remnant
of the most
only : the London
liave

important.
But

the

could

and
light-hearted,

therefore

dissatisfied

perimentalist
ex-

of

monachism, find no establishment to his taste ?

None
where men
out with the idea of promoting religious
setting
provision for the
feelingand worship, should yet make some
evident
necessities of human
nature?
Not
in the regular
monasteries
Canons
the
But
estab- ^''
were
certainly.
Regular
and
desires.
lished precisely to satisfysuch moderate
tastes

^^

^^'.,

that of St. Augustine, Bishop of

had their rule,chiefly
Hippo ; but it was one that admitted of geniallifeand converse
In a word, says Guyot, "among
both at home
and abroad.
is well shod, well clothed,well fed. They go out when
these one
Some
of
they like, mix with the world, and talk at table."
in
this
the most
monasteries
England belonged to
interesting
order, as Waltham
Abbey, Walsingham Priory,and St. Mary
friend and
the burial-placeof Chaucer's
Overies, Southwark,
of divisions
all
Gower.
This
order
had
sorts
fellow-poet
again

They

too

"

"

the

chieflydistinguished from

member

thought

or

proper

saint whose
to

as

in the monastery

as

in that of

follow.
of

each

other

the

name

of

of the rule

particularreading
leaned to
Thus, some

Bourne, Lincolnshire

Warmesley

by

in Herefordshire

; some
;

some

they
Nicholas,
to St. Victor,
to St. Mary of
St.

Norfolk ; and some

(a
numerous
body) to St. Norbert, bishop of Magdeburgh ;
very
last called
themselves
these
Premonstratensians, or White
so
Canons, and were
popular in England as to have no less than

Meretune,

35 houses

Knights
followed

as

in that of Beckenham

in

The
two
great militarybodies,the
and
the
Hospitallers
Knights Templars, who mostly
the rule of St. Augustin or Austin, and the greater part
scattered

^"
,"^^/^.^

about.

of the charitable hospitalsspread so profuselyover

England,
and especiallyby its waysides, for the receptionand entertainment
of poor travellers and pilgrims,
with the
connected
were
For the honour
of England, we must
order of Austin Canons.

''^''

not

^^,;K.

TALES,

CANTERBURY

66

forget to observe, that

i?

produced

of Gilbertine Canons
Joceline of Sempringham, who

the

order

We

cannot, however, say much

one

order

of its

own

founded

of
by Gilbert,son
the rector
of that place.
was
for the originality
of our
man's
countrythat belonged to it were
simply

order,since the women

and
Cistercians,

Benedictine

Canon
Premonthe men, Austin
stratensians : both lived under the same
roof, but separated.
in England.
There were
25 Gilbertine houses
find a body nearly approachIn the secular
we
ing
canons,
that ofThe ordinaryparochialclergy who indeed may
be
said to have spiung
from them.
Whenever
and wherever
the
introduced
into a new
Christian faith was
part of England, there
found a few devoted
to be
was
sure
livinga kind of
spirits,
"

but issuing forth constantlyfrom

monastic
their seclusion,
life,
either to instruct novices,perform the great offices of the church
for members, wherever
two
or three were
gathered together,or
darkness
to penetrate stillfurther into the midst of the spiritual
surrounded.
As these little oases
in the
by which they were
into bishoprics,
desert were
and became
the
generallyformed

in the cause
of the diocesans, such early labourers
of
with the churches or cathedrals ; and
Christ became
connected
have thus remained
through all succeedingages, down to our
under the name
time ; when, however, whether
of canon
own
or
seats

prebendary, the essential features of the office have disappeared,

of the growth of the last of the four
chieflyin consequence
bodies we
named, the Parochial Clergy ; who, by the time of
Chaucer, had reached pretty nearly their present eminence, as
of parishes,churches,and officiating
regards the number
priests
When
them
Edward
of
III, for the purposes
caused
enumeration
in
be
to
there
an
prepared
tax,
1371,
found to be 8600 parishes; and we
observe by the
were
may
furnishes a strikingillustration of our
cestors'
anway, that this tax

required for

"

statistics." The
levied on
assessment
ignorance of
each parish was
5/. i6j.,butso egregiouslyhad the government
overrated
the number
of English parishes,that they had at first
calculated
sufficient

that
:

thousand, instead
country.

sum

of

\l.

2s.

^d.

they fancied,in short, that

of less than

nine

from
there

thousand

each
were

would
some

parishesin

be

fifty
the

THE

MONK

(from
**

An

AND
the

HIS

GREYHOUNDS.

MS.)

ELLESMERE

out-rid6r, that lovfed venery.

he had, as swift as fowl

Greyhounds

in

flight."
[Page 67.

RELIGION,"

THE

THE

MONK,

67

MONK.
"

(on the authority chieflyof the rule of St.

Maur
and St. Beneit,"of which
Chaucer
speaks below)
of men^fitted
kind
the
who, according to theory,were
and
to be
superiors of monasteries, and what monks
monachism
ought to be," and what, no doubt, at their best they
also look on "this,"
let us, while we
"look on this picture,"
were"
in marvellous
contrast, by Chaucer's vigorous hand :
\AVING

"

shown

there was, a fair for the mastery ; *

An out-rid^r that lov^d venerie ; ^
A manly man, to be an abbot able.
Full many
had he in stable ;
a dainty horse
A

Monk

when he rode,men
might his bridle hear
G inglein a whistling
wind so clear,
And eke as loud,as doth the chapel bell.
There as* this lord was
keeper of the cell,
The rule of s^int Maure and of saint Beneit,*
Because that it was
old,and somdel strait,
let old^ thing"space ;
This ilk^ s monk
And

And

As

held aftdr the new"

the trace."^

world

to the text :

"

"

that hunters be none

That saith,
holy men ;
when he is cloisterless
Ne that a monk
Is likned to a fish that's waterless ;
This is to say, a monk
out of his cloister :
But thilkfetext held he not worth an oyster.
And I say his opinionwas
good :
What7
should he study,and make himselven
"

well
one
fairfor the mastery^i.e.
community to which he belongs.
2
Hunting.
3
where
Or, in other words, ^there,
*

"

Benedict.

'

Same.
Dr. Morris

"

reads
And

The
the
7

This

ilke monk

held after the

newe

left the old strict Rule

monk
new

"
"

Order

Why.

of

fitted for the management

this

of the

lord,etc.

leet
world

forby hem
the

to take care

Self-indulgence.
*
Crazy, mad.

wood,*

pace,

space."

of

and
itself,

followed

CANTERBURY

68

TALES,

alway to pore ?
Upon a book in cloister,
Or swinken^ with his hand"s,and labour,
shall the world be serv*d ?
As Austin bid* ?* How
Let Austin have his swink to him reserv*d !
Therefore he was
a prickasour*
aright:
;
Greyhounds he had as swift as fowP in flight
and of hunting for the hare
Of pricking,*
Was all his lust f for no cost would he spare."

hunting,which Chaucer has here described as so

of his monk's
receives numerous
feature
character,
conspicuousa
of
houses of England.
illustrationsfrom the history the religious
of Richmond, on his initiation to
We
find that the archdeacon
attended
the prioryof Bridlington,in Yorkshire,in 12 16,came
In
horses,twenty-one dogs, and three hawks.
by ninety-seven
de
of
Walter
will
Suffield,
bishop Norwich, bequeathed by
1256,
to the king ; whilst the abbot
his pack of hounds
of Tavistock,
commanded
his
who had also a pack, was
by
bishop,in 1348,
A famous
hunter, contemporary with Chaucer,
to break it up.
de Clowne, abbot of Leicester,
William
who died in 1377.
was
f
or
skillin
of
the
His reputation
hare-huntingwas so great,
sport
that the king himself,his son
Edward, and certain noblemen,
paid him an annual pension that they might hunt with him.
"
The cellof which this monk
was
keeper,"was most probably
offshoots
from
of
the
those
one
parent houses,which, though
subordinate to the latter,
had their own
officers and domestic
and
sometimes
were
management,
very wealthy ; occasionally,
into so
much
indeed, they grew
importance, as to achieve
or
independence,and obtain the rank of a convent
priory. It
is thus only that we
the
monk
fact
of
Chaucer's
can
explain
**
a
being able to have
daintyhorse in stable,"or to
many
No
dress in the stylethat he does.
monk
would
have
mere
wealth ; and the
been allowed to keep to himself the requisite
"
"
"
would
lord
of
cell
have had
not
an
or
insignificant
keeper"
In
EUesmere
the
it to keep.
ing
concernmanuscript,the passage
the monk's bridle
The

.
'

love of

"

Gingle in
And

eke

as

wind
whistling
loud

as

doth the

so

clear,

chapelbell,"

is illustratedby golden bells on the bridle and trappingsof the

horse.
is supposed to have been
The
custom
borrowed
from
the knights,among
whom
it was
made
of importance
a matter
their bridles well hung with bells ; and the neglecting
to have
1

Toil,drudge.

Birds.

"
"

Bade.

"

A hard rider.

"

Pleasure,
delight.

Hard

riding.

'

RELIGION.^THE

of meanness
or
poverty.
upon as a mark
for its
old troubadour,gives a reason
confidence
observance
to
:
inspire
"Nothing is more
proper
in an
porary,
in a knight, and
terror
enemy.*' Wycliffe,the contem-

do
Amaiid
to

so

looked
was
of Marsan,

69

MONK,

.i^auJ^'

an

"

|i^./t,

and, perhaps, friend of Chaucer, has a passage happily

illustrative of the
truth of Chaucer's
description. In his
*Trialogus' he inveighs against the priestsfor their "fair
horses, and jolly gay saddles and bridles ringing by the way.**
remainder

The

"

is as
description

of Chaucer's

:"

his sleeves ptirfil^d

at the hand
that the finest of the land.
for to fasten his hood, under his chin,

saw

With

and
gris,^

And,
He

follows

had

of

gold ywrought

curious

pin^;

A love-knot in the greater end there was.

His head was
bald,and shone as any glass,
And eke his face,
been anoint.
as he had
He

and in good point.

a lord full fat,
was
His eyen steep',
and rolling
in his head,
That steamfed as a furnace of a lead.*
His booths supple,
his horse in great estate ;

Now
He
A

certainlyne

fat

His

swan

a fair preUte.
fcrpinfed*
ghost.

was

paleas

not

was

lovM

he best of any roast.

brown as any berry."

palfreywas

as

alreadyreferred
of the Monk
representation

to the

golden bells in the pictured

in the Ellesmere
manuscript ; in
other respects also, that representationagrees
minutely with
illustrates it. The habit of the Benedictines
the text, and sometimes
We

have

was

their

to

another

black

feet, with

loose
a

coat

cowl

habit, white,as

'

or

or

of stuff,
reaching down
gown
that
of the same
; under
the former, made
of flannel ;

hood

large as

their legs. In the manuscript, accordingly,

on
with full sleeves,and a glimpse of the
black
the
we
gown,
has by his side two
beneath.
The
monk
boots
hounds,
supple
The poet has remarked,
with blue collars and gilded buckles.
tunic were
that the sleeves of the monk's
edged with fur,
"
the finest of the land," and doubtless
as
expensive as it was
for the reformation of I
beautiful.
One of Wolsey's ordinances
the Benedictines, in 15 19, was
especiallydirected againstthis 1

boots
and, lastly,

have

of monkish
i
foppery.
Harry Baillyis very jocose with the monk, when the letter's
his superior fitness,
tell a tale, on
in many
to
turn
comes
than
the
shut
for
rather
to be
world,
respects,
up in a monastery.

feature
particular

'

"

fine sort of fur.

Prominent.

Gris,a

Caldron.
G

"

Wasted.

pin made

of

gold.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

70
But

the

monk,

Chaucer, took

says

ail in

patience,and presently

begins his story, observing

"

"

I will

The

and

then

bewail,in

harm

manner

of them

of

tragedy,
high degree,"

that stood in

proceeds accordingly,with

the

intolerable

most

calamities
through the histories of the respective
perseverance,
down
of Lucifer,Adam,
to
Sampson, etc. ;
Croesus, Peter of
Spain, and Hugelin of Pisa ; and for aught that is apparent,
still intend to go on
to the very
end of the pilgrimage,
may
for he has previouslyinformed
the pilgrims,
that he has got
"

pretty collection
in

hundred
"

number,

sirfe! quoth the knight,no more

of this ;
That ye have said,is rightenough ywis.
And muchfc more
; for littleheaviness

Doubtless
was

in his cell,just one

tragedies at home
good knight'spatiencefails :

but that the

Ho,

Is

"

of
"

rightenough

for muchd

folk,I

guess

;" etc.

pilgrimsagreed with him, that

quite "enough ;" and a very different
the

^^

ness
little heavikind of story

therefore follows.
of the Prioress,which
regard to Chaucer's description
follows,three difficulties used to be felt by students : i. Why
With

her deportment .?
her pretty manners,
did he dwell so much
on
could she have a Nun
How
as
a
2.
Chaplain,when the laws of
forbid ordination
Church
to a woman
?
the Romish
3. Why
should she have three Priests instead of one ?
difficulties were
cleared away
These
by the publicationof
the Survey of St. Mary's Abbey, Winchester, May 14, 1537, in
the Chaucer
Society's* Essays on Chaucer,' Part III, 1876,by
This Survey showed
that Chaucer's Prioress
Dr. F. J. Fumivall.
Headmistress
of
the
a large county girls'
school,
was
practically
and gentlemen's daughters
where
the county lords',
knights',
learnt their Prioress's elegant
finished their education, and
Her amanuensis
and love-notions.
or secretary was
manners
five male Chaplains or
called her Chaplain ; and as there were
Priests in St. Mary's Abbey, to attend to the ladies,three of
such Priests might wefl go on pilgrimagewith their Abbess
or
or

Prioress.

THE

(from
"

That

of

her

PRIORESS.

the

smiling

ELLESMERE

was

full

MS.)
simple

and

coy.'

iP"*i^ 71.

RELIGION."THE

THE

\HERE

also

PRIORESS.

71

PRIORESS.

a prioress,"
says Chaucer,in the
of his description
of that delicate,
of the
tender-hearted,sentimental
one
personage"
is
it
of
the
most
one
celebrated,as
happiest,of the

was

nun,

commencement

great

poet'sdramatic creations.

The

word

*nun'

(Latin,
nonna)

is said to be derived from Egypt, and to signifjr

a virgin
; other
the original
make
accounts
meaning of the Latin word ' a penitent.'
The earliest phase of female monachism
appears to have
been the custom
to all the religions
of antiquity,
of
common
themselves
of divine
to the performance
virginsdedicating
had become,
worship ; which, in reference to Christianity,
of frequent ^'
by the latter part of the third century, a matter
occurrence

as

learn

we

from

the

writingsof Cyprian

'**^''**

and

At that periodalso,whilst some

of the ecclesiastical1
TertuUian.
as
they wdre denominated, continued,after
or canonical virgins,
of self-sacrifice,
the parental roof,
to reside under
^
had already adopted the example of the monks, and
themselves
into communities.
From
that time their history
of
the
monachism.
of
becomes
a part
generalhistory
into the cloister,
,/....
Nuns, like monks, had, on their entrance
n.,^
to three years before their I ./"i^c^
to undergo a novitiate of from one
)
into the order, to take the three vows
of chastity,
admission
and
receive
and
In
the
the
to
tonsure.
obedience,
poverty,
their

vows

others
formed

houses
there were
sometimes, as in the
of the Gilbertines"no less than three prioresses
associated
case
together,taking the active duties of the office in rotation.
of a varying kind.
There were
the
These
comprised matters

government

of these

for instance,on the one

hand, to be cut out,
when
and
be
seen
made, to be divided
making to
to,
there
the chaptersto
the other,
the members
were
; on
among
to be
be held, penances
enjoined,licences or allowances to
comforted.
be granted or refused,sick to be visited and
Of
obedience
all
the
and
were
nuns
course
by
to
their
paid
respect
prioress; although she too had to walk circumspectlyby the
She was
in, ^ ^
not at liberty
to sit near
rules set down.
any man
discreet sister between,nor elsewhere,
!"*^ *the convent, without some
nuns'
their

vestments,

avoided ; a cogent reason, by the way,

ifit could be conveniently
of the nun, the prioress's
for the presence
chaplain,who is
fair
in
of
the
the
side
the
pilgrimageto 1
always by
governor,
'

Canterbury. The
of
doi-mitory

prioresswas

the convent

not

even

after dinner

permittedto leave
without

the company

the

of

\ /^'
"

'

"

CANTERBURY

TALES.

of her sisters. We must not omit to mention, that among

confessions ; but
her duties was
at one
periodthat of hearing
it was
this was
at last done away with,for an amusmg
reason
:
which
female
found there was
end
the
to
curiosity
no
questions
induced them to put. We
should fear Chaucer's gentleprioress
could not be quiteabsolved from this charge:
some

"

"

**

There

also

a nun, a Prioress,
and coy ;
That of her smilingwas
full simple
Her greatestoath n*as but by Saint Eloy ;
And she was
clept^Madamfe Eglantine.
Full well she sang the service divine,
in her nose
full seemfely.
Entun^d
And French she spake full fair and fetisly,*
After the school of Stratford-attfe-Bow ;
For French of Paris was
to her unknow."
was

Chaucer
The
so
pleasantly satirizes for
seminary which
been a
its bad
to have
French, is supposed by Mr. Warton
novices : and the
fashionable place of instruction for nuns
or
facts. The
ancient
idea is not
unsupported by the known
**
"
Stratford-atte-Bow
Benedictine
of
in
famous
was
nunnery
Chaucer's time, and not improbably on account
of its educational
de
duchess
of
died
who
character.
Mohun,
York,
Philippe
in 1431, bequeathed to the prioressfive shillings,
and to the convent
b
ut
sufficient
a
slight,
shillings
:
p
erhaps,
testimony,
twenty
of instruction received there.
remembrance
of the grateful
The prioress's
she did swear
very pretty littleoath, when
be remembered
that our
and it must
not
English ladies were
in such matters,
down
to the times of
at all particular
even
^has excited more
contention among
the commentators
good Queen Bess
than one would have thought such a matter
deserved.
Warton
says that St. Loy (the form in which the word
appears
St. Lewis : but in Sir David
in all the manuscripts)
means,
"

"

Lyndsay's writings St. Eloy appears as an independent personage,

in connexion
with horses or horsemanship :
"

"

And

Saint Elov, he doth stoutlystand,

horseshoe in his hand"**
Ane new

again;

"

"

Some
That

makis offering
to Saint
he their horse may well

Chaucer
Whilst, lastly,
Friai^s tale.

Some
"

himself

has

explainSt. Eloy
Called.

Eloy,
convoy."
similar

a
as
2

St

allusion

Eligius.

Neatly.

in the

RELIGION."

73

oath,in her
scrupulousnicety visible in the prioress's

The

singing,and

in her

French, extends
example of what
"

And

PRIORESS.

THE

her

harmony

pronunciationof

to her behaviour

at

the

Stratford-atte-Bow

table,where she is a perfect

good breedingin the fourteenth century

was

mental
with her

She

characteristics
manners

and

her

dress

are

in

fine

;
"

wouldfe weep

Caught

in

if that she
if it

saw

dead

mouse

bled.
trap,
Of smalls hound^s had she, that she fed
and milk,and wastel bread.'
With roasted flesh,
of them were
dead ;
But sore wept she,if one
it with a yerdfe"
Or if men
smote
smart.
And all was
conscience and tender heart.
Full seemdy her wimple pinchfed"
was,
Her nos6 straight
; her eyen grey as glass;
full small,and thereto soft and red.
Her mouth
But sikerlyshe had a fair forehead :
almost a spannfebroad, I trow ;
It was
a

were

or

she was
not undergrow^*.
For hardily*^
her cloak,as I was
Full fetise^^was
'ware.
she bare
Of small coril about her arm
^

Pleasure.
*

Not

the smallest

Certainly.

kind of cake-bread made

rod.

'

"

Her

Worthy.

"

spot.

Reached.

"

Piteous.
from the finest flour.

10
11

To
Of

yjzs ypinchedor plaited.

wimple^or neckerchief,
speak boldly.
a

low

"

she withal ;
At meatfe well ytaughtwas
She let no morsel from her lippfes
fall ;
in her saucd deep.
Ne wet her fingers
Well could she carry a morsel,and well keep,
That no dropfe
fell upon her breast.
ne
In courtesy was
her lest.^
sete full much
she
Her over-iippfe
so
wipfed
clean,
That in her cupp^ was
no
seen
farthing^
Of greasfe,
when she dranken had her draught.
Full seem^lyaft^r her meat
she raught.''^

of great disport.
And sikerly*
she was
and amiable of port ;
And full pleasant,
And painM her to counterfeiten cheer
of manqfere,
Of court, and be estately
*
And to be holden digne of reverence.
But for to speaken of her conscience,
She was
so charitable and
so
pit6us,"

stature.

"

^g^t.

CANTERBURy

74

TALES.

A pairof bead^s,gauded * all with green ;

And thereon hung a brooch of gold full sheen ; ^
firstywrittena crowned A,
On which was
And after,
A mor
vincitomniaP^

The

tender

same

Squire of

Degree/

Low
"

to be referred to in * The
appears
where we find the following
passage :"

motto

In the midst of your shield there shall be set

A lady'shead with many
a fret ;
Above the head written shall be
for the love of me
A reason
;
Both O and R shall be therein
With A and M it shall begin."
"

or gold,
gauded all with green," or silver gilt,
in old wills,
mentioned
in that of Eleanor
de
as
are
frequently
"
Bohun, duchess of Gloucester, 1399 :
Item, I devise to
of Erford, a pair of paterMadame
and mother, the Countess
nosters
with gardes of gold,"
of coral of fifty
beads, ornamented
etc. ; and in other old writers of Chaucer's
period;as in the
pages of Gower, etc.
Our
struck with the
host, Harry Bailly,is evidentlymuch
be more
gallant than his bearing
prioress,and nothing can
towards her.
Addressing her,after the Shipman's tale,he says

Beads

thus

"

"

My

by
LadyPrioress^,

leave,

your

So that 1 wist I should you not aggrieve

I wouldfe deemen
that ye tellen should
A talfenext, if so were
that ye would.
"
Now
will ye vouchfesafe,
my ladydear ?
"

Who

could

replyotherwise

than

to
pleasantly

such insinuating
?
mediately
Gladly," says the amiable Prioress ; and impoliteness
incident peculiarly
tells a tale founded
on
calculated
an
her feminine
to arouse
of a
sympathies the murder
Christian child by the Jews in a far-off country. The EUesmere
manuscript represents her thus engaged, with her right hand
if calling
the particular
attention of the pilgrims,
as
uplifted,
to
what
little
of her habitual authority,
she was
evidence
saying; a
perhaps unconsciously,breaking out ; whilst in her left are seen
of coral.
the beads
The
artist has made
her belong to the
Benedictine
Nuns, by the dress he has given to her z, black
cloak over
He has set her on the off side of her
a white tunic.
"

"

"

horse.
*

Garnished.

Shining"bright.

"

Love

conquerethall things.

FRIAR.

THE

(from
"

Of

worsted

double
rounded

That

A
.

MS.)

ELLESMERE

the

was,

wanton

was
as

and

his

semi-cope,

bellfe out

of

press.

merry."

[Pag^

7S.

RELIGION."

THE

ASSING

over

FRIAR.

THE

75

FRIAR.

for the present, and

for

reason

that will

by-and-by, the character of the parson which 1

gives us, as a sample of the parochialclergy,j
we
proceedto notice the Friars, who were, at different y
^the most
popular and most reperiods,the best and the worst
vered,
odious and most
the most
despised,of religiousbodies.
be seen
Chaucer

"

The

corruptionsof. the

monastic

life,of which

have

we

(^/^Af*^{

-^^

example in the person of Chaucer's

Monk," led to'"*^ui'^^';^V
the establishment,in the thirteenth century, of anew
order of |
/^- ^'^"
back
who
to
the
Church
to
of
Rome
bring
hoped
religionists
;
|
the respect and affection of the people, by renouncing the i '"^^
that so \
wealth, the pride, the indolence, and the sensuality,
characterized the existing
religiousbodies.
universally
seen

The

"

fair

earliest orders of mendicant

friars were

those established

Black**"''
called the Dominicans
de Guzman,
or
by St. Dominic
Friars,in 1216, and by St. Francis of Assisi,called the Grey
other
orders followed,which
Friars, in 1223. Various
were
c"^.
ultimately suppressed; with the exceptionof the Carmelites
1..^,,,-'^
and
the Augustines. Four orders in all were
thus established, t y^
^'^
Their success
and practice^
was
extraordinaiy. The principles
of pure
to be
revived.
once
more
Christianityseemed
The
and
admiration,a body of men
people beheld with wonder
devoted
to their spiritual
so
interests,as to adopt for their
of life that must
mode
sake
ships
a
necessarilybe full of hardThe
and
friars,"says
had
privations.
Godwin,
no
no
magnificent palaces, like the monks
thrones, painted
for the most
windows, and statelyarchitecture ; they were
part
In
of
these
the
earth.
face
the
wanderers
on
respects they
professed to act on the model of Christ and his Apostles ; to
*
take no thought for the morrow
to lay
; to have no place where
***^'*

".

"

"

"

their head ; ' and to be indebted for the necessaries of existence

affection and kindness of the people whose
to the spontaneous
They exercised
neighbourhood they chanced to frequent.
the occupation of beggars ; and they undertook
to
peremptorily
maintain
in their sermons
that Jesus Christ and his disciples
demanded, and subsisted upon, the alms of their countrymen.
It is not
wonderful, that in the ages we are contemplating,
should obtain the appropersons holding out these professions
bation
of their contemporaries. But
they did not stop here.
the earth,,they determined
on
Though beggars and wanderers
to exhibit in their lives every
proof of the most indefatigable
.

CANTERB

76
*

UR

TALES.

had become
of general disapprobation
a term
lazy monk
in
resolved
and obloquy. They
all respects
to be
of the monk.
the reverse
They did not hide in cloistered walls,
themselves
from the inspectionand comments
and withdraw
of mankind.
They were
always before the public,and were
in
the
pious offices of counsel,comfort,
constantly employed
In pursuitof these objects
admonition, preaching,and prayer.
hastened
from place to place ; and
they spared no fatigue; they
their frames might be expected to be worn
when
out with the
stillfresh
and
w
ithout
the
of
were
alert,
length
repose
way, they
and almost without aliment,for all the offices of disinterested
and all the duties of men
toil or Christian instruction,
incessantly

industry.

The

This was
watchful for the salvation of their fellow-creatures.
their joy."
their labour, their study, their refreshment, and
exertions in the
Lastly,may be noticed their most admirable
of learning. Their poverty, their hardships,and their
cause
did not prevent them
from mastering all
incessant occupation,
the subtleties of the scholastic literature and philosophyof the
reputationin the pursuit. The
time,and from acquiringa new
teenth
greatest intellects of the thirteenth and early part of the fourmendicants.
almost
all
find
We
w
ere
centuries,
among
them Roger Bacon, Thomas
Aquinas, Duns Scotus,and Albertus

Magnus.
and
Scotus
the founders
of various
sects
were
and
centuries
for
their
continued
to
theology ;
disciples
A
each
other.
with
few
essentials
of
words
the
on
wrangle
the characters
of the two
eminent
their disputes,and
on
have
be
useful
in
the
at
we
men
named, may
illustrating once
devoted
absurd
to which, in the
uses
main, learning was
ledge,
in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries ; and the zeal,knowand talent,that were
such
on
notwithstanding^^exercised
birth
l
abours.
nobleman
but
he
a
unprofitable
;
Aguinaswas by
his fifteenth year, before he became
had scarcelyreached
by
his
inclination a friar,having at that early age entered upon
novitiate in a convent
at Naples ; and, in spiteof all attempts
the part of his family to alter his views,a friar he persisted
on
in remaining. This precocityas to the choice of a vocation,
did not, at first,
appear to be accompanied by a corresponding
The
intellect.
of
nick-named
students
him, the
precocity
Dumb
Ox.
remarked, that
Aquinas'steacher,however, quietly
if the ox should once
be filled
the
world
would
to
bellow,
begin
We
with the noise.
need
here explain in detail how
not
the
how
fulfilled
the title of the
prophecy was
completely
Dumb
Ox became
exchanged for that of the Angelic Doctor, or
for that of the Angel of the Schools.
Among the anecdotes
that have been preservedof him, there are two not unworthy of

Aquinas

in

"

kELlCiON.-THM

PRIAR,

11

the estimation in
which he was
held.
Pope Innocent the Fourth,on the occasion
of some
being brought to him in Aquinas's presence,
money
is past, when
she
that the age of the church
see
said, "You
"
could say, * Silver and gold have I none.' "
Yes, holy father,'*
she
the caustic reply ; " and the day is also past, when
was
*
"
and
walk.'
The
Take
could say to the paralytic,
up thy bed,
other story is as follows : Thomas
was
dining one day with King
he started from
afterwards Saint" Louis of France, when
a
his wit,courage,
as
repetition,
attesting

and

"

"
A
the table with violence,observing,
it."
could never
decisive argument ! the Manicheans
answer
reminded
of the presence in which he was, and begged
He was
pardon ; but the king was only anxious to have the particulars
of this unanswerable
argument ; and called in his secretary
Aquinas died in 1274.
immediately to have it taken down.
Of his tenets
the most
important was that of the supreme
of
power of the Divine grace ; and in this,and other matters
followers
Thomists
became
his
in
the
doctrine,
ranged
oppositionc,,
of Duns
Scotus ; more
to the Scotists,
or followers
especially
which
d
istinctive
formed
the
feature
that
one
peculiarly
upon
of the teachings of Scotus, the immaculate
conceptionof the
after
which
first
became
a
Virgin ;
public disputation
popular
in Paris,in the beginningof the fourteenth century ; where Duns
demolished
than two
Scotus having,as a commencement,
more
his
hundred
been
doctrine,
objectionsthat had
put forth to
of direct arguproceeded to array a no less formidable number
ments
in its favour.
A writer who was
present says, he resolved
the knottiest syllogismsof his adversaries with as much
ease
as
did the bands
of Delilah.
Samson
The
still
result forms
a
better evidence of the friar'ssubtle eloquence. The university
converted
and then, as usual,unfortunately,
with
was
en masse;
most
publicbodies,in most countries,and in most ages, having
been themselves persuaded by reason, theythought it only necessary
to persuade others by force ; and so a regulationwas
passed
who
which rendered
it necessary
for every man
desired to take
to his belief in the immaculate
a degree, to swear
conception.
The
doubting,objecting character of Scotus's mind, coupled
with the terrible doubts that hang over
the circumstances of
his death, (he is supposed to have been
buried
of course
rise
to
the
unintentionally"
alive),
followingepigram :
gave

longreverie,and

struck

'

"

"

"

"*

What
sacred writings,
or profanecan
show,
All truths were, Scotus,call'd in doubt by you.
Your fate was
doubtful too : Death boasts to be
The firstthat choused you with a fallacy
;
Who, lest your subtle arts your lifeshould save
secured you in the grave.''
Before he struck,

TALES,

CANTMRBURY

78

writer might have included also in his doubts, the great

to his birth-place three kingdoms, England, Scotland,
as
need only
We
for the honour.
and Ireland having contended
Dominican
the
of
the
order,so
glory
add, that as Aquinas was
The
doubt

"

of the Franciscan.
these men
periodwhen
friars to
of
the
brotherhood
great
influence and real splendour,it was

Iwas Scotus

thus helpedto raise the

the culmmating point of
not long before a decline
of the fact,that a more
took place,as a natural consequence
delusive prosperity
brilliant but more
began to attract the eye
of
direction ; here in the
in every
shape of monasteries
of
exhibition
in
the
unusual architecttfraJ magnificence; there
in
the
the most
individual friars exercising
importantinfluence
the
order
their
of
the
As
rules
world.
of
aflairs
the
by
temporal
their
of
munificence
the
receive
friarscould
mendicant
not
estates,
From

of their
the erection or adornment
were
conventual
very
buildmgs. Their churches in particular
rank
to
of
the
for
it
and
highest
became
custom
a
fin^;
persons
in
Friars
of
the
church
In the noble
be buried in them.
Grey
six
and
four queens
in
finished
which
was
1325,
{London,
their tombs,
interred ; and
of rank were
hundred
persons
remained
the
most
of
of them
kind,
up to the
sumptuous
many
indeed
become
had
period of the dissolution. Mendicancy
bitious,
fashionable ; and the mendicants, as might be expected,
grew amand energetic; or sensual,when they
if they werexlever

patrons

"

it.

the

was

in
displayed

the talent or inclination to seek for anything higher

wanted
Chaucer's
and
friar,whom
than personal ease
enjoyment.
:
introduce to our readers,is of the latter description
now
we
"

"

and a merry,
A Frere there was, a wanton
A limitour,
man.
a full solemn^
that can ^
In all the orders four is none
of dalliance and fair language.
So much
He had ymad6 many
a fair marridge
cost.
Of youngfe women,2 at his owen
Unto his order he was
a noble post.
he
Full well belov'd and familiar was
With franklins over all in his country.
*

For he had power

of confession
than a curdte,
As said himself,
more
licenciat.^
For of his order he was
Full sweetfely
heard he confession
his absolution.
And pleasant
was
*

"

Knows.

he had seduced. He then providedthem with small

Furnivall's Temporary Prefaceto Six-Text^p. n8.
' That
is to say, licensed to hear confession*
^

Whom

portions.

RELIGION."THE
He was
There

FRIAR.

79

givepenance,
have a good pittance
;
For unto a poorfeorder for to give,
Is sign^that a man
is well yshrive; '
For if he gave, he durst6 make
avaunt
He wist^ that a man
was
repentant.
an

as

easy

For many
a
He may
not

to

man

he wist^

man

to

so

hard

is of his

weep^, though him

heart,

sor" smart

Therefore,instead of weeping and pray^res,

Men
give silver to the poorfefreres."
may
In addition to all these strikingrecommendations
to sinners
found iteasier to open their pockets than their hearts,
who
our
friar has not neglected to prepare himself for those who
might
services.
not
requirehis spiritual

tippetwas aye farced ^ full of knives,

And pinnfes,
for to given fairfewives.
And certainly
he had a merry
note.
Well could he sing,and playenon a rote.*
Of yeddings"he bare utterlythe prize.

"

His

His neck was

white as is the fleur de lis.
Thereto he strong was
as a champioun.
He
well the taverns in every town,
knewe
And every hosteler,
or gay
tapst^re
"
or a begg^re,
lazdr,
a worthy man
as he
his
as
not,
by
faculty,

Better than a
For unto such
Accorded
To haven
It is not

with such lazars dcauaintance ;

honest,it may not aavance,''
with no such pouraille,"
For to deakn
But all with rich,and sellers of vitaille:*'

who has so many

for public favour,and
qualifications
look
interests and dignity,
who
so
can
shrewdly after his own
in any occupation,
could
much
less in
scarcelyfail of success
of
mendicant
the
of
the
fourteenth
that
century.
A

man

And over
Courteous
1

There, where

he

all,where
knew

should arise
profit
lowly of servlse.

and

he was,

or

expectedhe

should

receive

"a

good

pittance."
^

*
*

Or, in other words, that he has confessed " well."

Forced (or stuffed)
stillsay in cookery.
as we
A musical instrument,
supposed to have been similar to the modern

hurdy-gurdy,
6

The

are
story-telling
7

'*

in the

Honest
sense

"

of

"
veddings"
referred
to.
probably

of the

meaning

most

word

is here used in the

profit.

sense

is uncertain

; songs

"

of creditable ; and

**

or

Leper.
advance

OffaL

"

TALES.

CANTERBURY

8o
'

*-

There
He was

[And
None
For

where so virtuous. "^

the best beggir in all his house ;
gave a certain fenn^ for the grant,
in his haunt.'*]
of his brethferen came
no

was

man

no

hadd^
widow
but one
shoe,
his
In
(So pleasant
was
principtoY
he went.
Yet would
he have a farthing
ere
better than his rent.
His purchase was
And rage he could,and play^ as a whelp ;

though

there could be muchel help.

In lov"days,
he not like a cloisterer,
For there was
With threadbare copfe,as a poor scholar.
like a master
But he was
a
or
pope.
Of double worsted was
his semicope,*
That round was
as a bellfe out of press.
"

"

Somewhat
he lisped
for his wantonness,
To make his Englishsweet upon his tongue ;
And in his harping,when that he had sung,
His eyen twinkled in his head aright.
As do the starrfes in the

frostynignt."

happy picture of one of the best

The very genuineness of his enjoyment
It is but too true, however,
half in love with him.
one
think very highly of the
cannot, from this description,
Christian
friar's
which
worthy
zeal,or power of self-denial,
piety,
church reformers of the day (Chaucer and
the un-fashionable
the number) held to be indispensable
to even
Wycliflfeamong
I
of the duties of his calling.And
observance
a decent
so, whilst
and indirectly,
but surely,
ithe poet silently
attacked both monks
and friars by contrastinghis exemplars of each class with the
"
made
the country ringagain with his
poor6 parson,"Wycliflfe
unsparingand almost indiscriminatinginvectives of the entire
of all kinds.
In one
of his works, he
body of religionists
divided this body into twelve classes ; beginning with the pope
friars ; all of whom
and ending with the mendicant
he denounces
anti-C^ lists and the proctors of satan.
as
Graduallythe friars
than
the
had ever
became
monks
more
even
odious,perhaps,
Was
of boon
makes
that we

there

ever

more

companions ?

Active,indefatigable.

That

is to say, he farmed
or
paid a certain rent for the rightof
begging in his haunt,"to which consequentlynone of his " brethferen "
allowed to come.
These two lines are not in some
MSS.
were
3 In the
beginning.This refers to. the beginning of St. John's Gospel.
to Sir T. More," 1530, Parker
Society's
Tyndale, p. 62, "Answer
"
Such
limiter's
the
erat verbum^
is
saying of In principio
reprint,
says,
Fumivali's
from house
to house.
Temporary Prefaceto his Six-Text
"

"

Chaucer, p.
^

Short

93.

cloak,or

cape.

RELIGION,"

THE

%\

FRIAR.

more
were
meddling and personallyintrusive ; and
their fate excited the less regret, at the conmion
ruin which
awaited
their establishments,at the dissolution of monasteries
the sixteenth century.
t^^y^*-*-^
The friar is a "limitour,"which Mr. Tyrrwhitt defines as one
licensed to beg within a certain district ; and Junius,who gives
a wider
meaning to the term, as one who dischargedhis office
district. These
definitions most
generally within a specified
the
Dr.
truth
probably point nearly to
Jamieson has
; for,as
*
in
of
Vision
Piers Ploughman,' the " limitour "
the
observed,
^
a
as
confessor,who, by virtue of episcopalletters,
appears
authorised to hear
althoughhe had no parochialcharge, was
^
confession and grant absolution within a certain district. The
;"
love-day, on which the friar appears to have been in much
of Chaucer
to have
supposed by the commentators
request, was
been
originallya day appointed for the amicable settlement
the business of the day was
of differences ; on which, when
^
'is
feast
the
arbitrators.
is it "'"
But how
to
a
concluded,
given
t*."^
in
connexion
did
with
the
mention
the
not
they
love-days,
the
word
love
and
of
charity,
Agapae, or meetings, as
signifies,
from which
of the earlybelievers in Christianity,
there seems
the love-daysmust
have sprung ? At these
every probability
^
table was
meetings, a common
providedby those who were able
concluded
to give ; and the entertainment
was
by the holykiss.
and
They took place on occasion of marriage,martyr-festivals,

been,as they

"

"'"

'

*"

"'

excited by the love-feasts at

funerals.
scandal
Mugh
was
certain periodsof their history; and in the fourth century they
But they existed
forbidden by the Council of Laodicea.
were
forbidden
and
been
have
to
still,
though
improved,
;
appear
in
added
them
strict
and a new
to
harmony, however,
;
purpose
with their originalobject,that of settingapart the love-feast
day as one especiallydevoted to the settlement of differences,
Christians were
necessarily
by which love and charity among
much
promoted. Such, it appears to us, was the originof the
little
love-day; which gradually degenerated into what was
than ordinary
feast characterised
better than a mere
by more
riot. Thus, in * Piers Ploughman,* the author,
license and
of the
whilst inveighingagainst the luxury and amusement
does
the
He
not
ecclesiastics,
forget
love-day.
says ;
"

"

And

now

is

A leader of

prickeron

a roamer
Religiona rider,
by the street,
and a loud beggar,
love-dayes,

etc.
palfrey,"

"

'

TALES.

CANTERBURY

82

THE
^S
^

SUMPNOUR.

appendages to the ecclesiastical system, we may next

two
important
Sumpnour and the Pardoner

notice the

"

in the

personages

of ecclesiastical affairs

management

during the middle ages, but now so completelyfallen into

will doubtless appear
oblivion,that their very names
strange to
Both
these
of
characters
show
readers.
our
very strongly
many
the bent of Chaucer's mind
eventful
during an
period of church
ment,
history. The bold exactions of which the first was the instruand
the impudent cheats
the
people by the
put upon
them
other,had no doubt made
generallyobnoxious ; but still
concentration
there was
wanted
of the popular idea
a
popular
do them
full justice; and
this Chaucer
furnished
in the
to
before
will
that
The
two
at
one
us.
masterly portraits
present
attention is the Sumpnour, or Summoner"
officer
our
an
engage
I
Iemployed to summon
delinquentsto the ecclesiastical courts,
}now known as an apparitor. In the * Frere*s Tale,'we have a
complete view of the positionand duties of this individual,
which it appears, that it was
for the archdeacons
to punish ;
from

"Of

his business
of

cases

to seek

out

cases

witchcraft,

defamation

and avouterie,^
and of testaments,
Churchfe-rev^s,2
Of contracts,and of lack of sacraments,
Of

Of usur',and of simony also,

But cartes,lechers did he greatest woe."

Offenders

of the latter

descriptionappear to have been the chief

objectsof his search ; and he employed spiesto infornthim as to
who
were
it
wealthy, and to draw those into temptation whom
''
availed
to punish. This
brief account
will serve
make
to

"

clearer

one
**

or

two

passages

Sumpnour

That
For

had

in the

:
followingdescription
"

there with us in that

was
fire-red cherubinn^s face

saucfcfleme^

place.

he was, with

eyen

narrow,

""""""

With scallfed*browns black,and

Of his visdgechildren were
sore
1

Adultery.

In the

beard
pillfed^
afeard.

Churchwardens.

'Thousand

Notable Things,'
a prescription
is given
red
or
sausfleame,
Two
of the ingredientsare
pimpled face."
Sliver and brimstone.
Saucefleme is salsaphlegma,salt

for "a

quick-

phlegm.

Scurfy,

Bald,or scanty.

SUMMONER.

THE

(from
"

That

A
As
A

Pc^e

82.]

had

garland
great
buckler

as

MS.)

ELLESMERE

the

face.

fire-red cherubinn^t
had
it
had

he
were

he

set

for
made

his

upon
an

of

head,

aid-stake
him

[sign]

cake."

SUMPNOV^.

KELlGlOir."tHE
There

n'as

i'l

litarge,ne brimstone,
quicksilver,

oil of tartar none,

Ne ointfement that wouldfe cleanse and bite,
That him might helpen of his whelkfes^ white,
Ne of the knobb^s
his cheeks.
on
sitting
Well lov*d he garlic,
and
leeks ;
onions,
And for to drinkfe strong wine red as blood.
Then would he speak and cry as he were
wood.*
had the wine,
And when that he well drunken
Then would he speakenno word but Latfne.
A fewfe termfes had^ he, two
or three

Boras,ceruse,

ne

decree :
That he had learned out of some
it
all
heard
No wonder
^he
the
day.
is,
And eke ye knowen
well,how that a jay
Can clepen*' Watte
!'as well as can the pope.
"

But whoso would in other thinghim grope,*

Then had he spent all his philosophy
;
would he ciy,
Ay, Questioquidjuris^
*

Full privily
a finch eke could he pulU*
And if he found owhere' a good felUw,
He wouldfe teachen him to have none
awe
In such a case
of th' archfedeacon*s curse
;
in his purse.
soul were
But if^a manna's
For in his purse he should ypunish'dbe :
Purse is the archfedeacon's hell,quoth he."
well I wot he lyethright in deed ;
Of cursingought each guiltyman
to dread :
For curse
will slayrightas assoiling*save th ?
And also 'ware him of a significavitj^
In dangerhad he at his owen
guise
of the diocise ; "
The youngfegirlfes
But

before mentioned we find it also stated that oil of tartar

and filthy
clean all spots, freckles,
wheales,** This
a corrupt breaking
as whelkes,
we
presume, the same

In the work
will take away

last word means,

the face.
out
on
a
Wild or mad.
"
Or, as a modem
^
"

Knew.
gambler would

say,

pluck a

Pry into,test.
pigeon.
^

An)rwhere,
Absolving.
"

*Call.

"

But

if^ except
"

issues out of the Chancery,upon a certificate

that stands obstinatel]^
excommunicate
man
given by
of
him
in
the
the
for
prisonwithout trial
fortydays,
laying
up
by
space
of the church : and
until he submit himself to the authority
or
mainprize,
is an emphatical
word in it." Blotmts
it is so called because significavit
10

This is
the

writ which
ordinaryof
a

"

Law
"

Dictionary,
Girles may

is meant

that

mean

they were

By havingthem
persons of both sexes.
within the control of his office.

in

danger

CANTERBURY

84

TALES,

their counsel,
and was
of their rede.*
he set upon his head ;
for an alestake.^
As great as it were
A buckler had he made him of a cake."

And
A

"

,^

,,

whether

Shakspere had Chaucer's

Sumpnour in
Fluellen thus describe to Henry V. " one
Bardolph, if your majesty know the man
: his face is all bubukles and whelks, and knobs, and flames of fire." The
descripreminds
of that of the elder
one
i tion at all events
instantly

\
J

wonder
We
his eye, when

knew

garlandhad

,
,

he makes

poet.

last is " humorously drawn," says Warton, " as counteracting

his profession
by his example: he is libidinous and
belies his occupation."
voluptuous,and his rosy countenance
He then adds, " that it is an indirect satire on the ecclesiastical
proceedingsof those times." Even before the age of the author
of the * Canterbury Tales,'the Sumpnour
tinguishe
appears to have dishimself by the contrast
which
Warton
points out,
and to have brought down
him the indignation
of equally
upon
zealous but less powerful satirists.
We
find in Piers
The

'

}y/,'*.;
V

i.i r,

Vision,'the

man's
Plough-

"

and their lemmans

"

marked
out
for especial
in his indignantcensures
reprobation,
of the conduct
of those then connected
with the church.
And after the period
he enjoyed no
of Chaucer
of favour from
greater amount
the
calls him, and
^i 'iuU poets ; for Milton
the whole
of such
race
rabble."
.^persons,"a hell-pestering
/,4(/
j^jg affectation of law terms,picked
,^ vf.
up from the decrees and
I / pleadingswhich he had overheard
during his attendance
in
^
his displayof learning,when, having "well-drunken"
court"
of
the wine, he will speak nothing but the Latin which
the law
terms
have taught him"
above all,his flights
for refuge to the
"
one
parrot cry,
Questioquid juris,"
are
highlyhumorous and
Mr.
Tyrrwhitt's explanation of the origin of this
amusmg.
the Sumpnour
finds so useful when
1 phrase, which
he hath
"
his philosophy,"is, " that this kind
of question
; spent all
frequentlyin Ralph de Hengham (a law writer and
: occurs
chief justiceof the Court
of King's Bench, in the time
of
Edward
after
stated
I.);
having
a case, he adds, * Quid juris?'"
is the law ? and then proceeds to give the
"what
answer.
has
Chaucer
described
not
the Sumpnour's dress.
About
the sixteenth century, t' e colour of the
garb of ecclesiastical
attendants
to
generally, appears
have
been
tawny.
In
Shakspere's 'Henry VI.,' the Bishop of Winchester is said
to be attended
in tawny coats ; and in other
by men
passages
somoners

'

was

And
was
of tketr rede,i.e. he advised with them.
stake set up before an alehouse as a
and which,it appears
sign,
sometimes
decorated with a garland. Kote the
garlandin the cut!

SiJMPNOUR,

kRLlGlON.'^THE

85

of dramatic
referred to

authors we
have the Sumpnour more
particularly
7^
Mr. Steevens
by that mark.
quotes the following
.J^C-KVrt^
"
:
a tawny
Though I was never
coat, I have played
passage
the summoner's
weJbave
part." In the Ellesm.ere manuscript:
There
the
different
a
an
wears
entirely
garbT
Sumpnour
has
He
of
"and
scarlet.
of blue,
surcoat
or
faclcel
pantaloons
the garland on his head ; worn, we
imagine, to set off the
may
delineated from
beauty of the face beneath, which is faithfully
made
of a cake, by
the poet's
the
verses
buckler,apparently
;
his side ; and a sealed letter or summons
in his hand.
We
conclude with noticing that the Friars and
Sumpnours
of the fourteenth century do not appear to have looked on each
V
other with very favourable feelings. During the pilgrimagewe
learn that the
"

"

noble Frere
made alway a manner
cheer
louring^
Upon the Sumpnour ;"

He

and

as

soon

as

the

opportunityoffers,
says,

"

If it like to this
company,
I will you of a Sumpnour tell a game ;
Pardc,vc may well knowen
by the name,
That of a Sumpnour may no good be said."

accordinglytell a
strongly,
He

does

"

That

like

tale which

affects the

he quoke for
aspen-leaf

an

Sumpnour

so

ire."

in the story he tells in

revenge
and
humour
broad
of
the
plain
specimen
be
in
these
forefathers
we
our
matters,
may
of
the
Sumpnour's
excused, perhaps,for presentinga sample
qualityfrom the prologue to his story, in which he givesthe

The

latter,however, takes his

; and
speaking of

return

Friar

as

foretaste of what

is

to

come.

He

says

Ye have often time heard tell,

that a Frerfe ravished was
How
to hell,
In spirit
onfes by a visioun ;
And as an an^el led him up and down.
that there were,
To showen
him the painfes
"

'

to the company

In all the placisaw lienot a Frere.

Of other folk,he saw
enough in woe
Unt6 this angel spoke this Frerfe tho
"

Then.

""

^6

CANTERB'URV

7ALES\

Frerfes such a grace

in this place ?
of them shall comen
Yes, quoth this angel,many a millioun ;
And unto Sathanas he led him down.
And now, hath Sathanas,said he, a tail

Now, sir,quoth he, have

That

none

Broader than of a carrick^ is the sail ;

Hold up thy tail,
thou Sathanas,quoth he.*'

The

angel is obeyed, and immediately,

"

issue

Right so

as

bees

of

swarming out

hive

"

Frerfes on
A twenty thousand
And throughouthellfeswarmed

"

route,"
all about.**

whole, the squabblesof the Friar and the Sumpnour

and were,
formed
no
doubt, greatly
a
very **prettyquarrel,'*
In
of Beryn^ in
their
fellow-travellers.
the
Tale
by
enjoyed
in
Fumivall's
Dr.
for the
and
edition
separate
Urry's Chaucer,
referred to ; and the Clerk tells
Chaucer
Society,this qudrrelis
is justified
the
Friar
in knowing of evil
that
the Summoner
he
is then
able to
things falsehood, vice, and theft as
and
therefore
the
Summoner
avoid them ;
ought not to be
the

Upon

"

"

angry

with the Friar

1

for his Tale, 1. 251-267.

largeship,

On

route^in

company.

PARDONER.

THE

(from
"*

A
His

vemicle
wallet

Bret-full

had

he

MS.)

ELLESMERE

the

sow^d

lay before
of pardons,

him
come

his cap.
in his lap,

on

from

Rome

all hot."

[Pag^ 87.

REL1GI0N,--THE

THE
the

ITH

Sumpnour,

PARDONER,

87

PARDONER.
continues

the poet,

"

Rode a gentle
Pardon ere
Of Rounceval,
his friend and his compeer,
That straight
from the court of Rom6.
comen
was
Full loud he sang, ' Come
hither,love,to me.*
This Sumpnour bare to him a stiffburdotin,^
Was never
trump of half so great a soun*.
This Pardoner had hair as yellow
as wax.
But smooth
it hung, as doth a strike of flax ;

By

hune his lock^s that he had.

therewith he his shoulders oversprad;
thin it lay,by culpons,^
and one ;
one
for
he
wearM
hood,
ne
none
jollity,
;
it was
trussed up in his wallet.
Him
thoughthe rode all of the newe
get ; *
Dishevel,save his cap, he rode all bare.
Such glaring
had he as a hare.
even
A vernicle* had he sew*d upon his cap.
His wallet laybefore him in his lap,
Bret-full* of pardon come
from Rome
all hot.
A voice he had as small as any goat.
No beard ne had he, nc nev^r should have,
As smooth it was
late yshave.
as it were
ounces

And
Full
But
For

"

"

of his craft,
from Berwick unto Ware
Ne was there such another Pardonere
For in his mail he had a pillowbere,^
that he saidfe,
Which
Our Lady's veil.
was
He said he had a gobbet^of the sail
But

Saint Peter haddfe when he went

Upon the sea, tillJesus Christ him hent.^
of laton,^
full of stones ;
He had a cross
And
in a glasshe haddfe pigg^s'bones.
But with these relics,
whennfe that he found
A poor6
dwelling
upon lond ;
parson
him
he
more
a
Upon
day
mondy
got
Then that the parson got in moneths
tway.
That

*
*
*
'

Or, sang

base

accompaniment.

Shreds.

is to say, quitein the fashionable manner.

* Cram-full.
" The
p. 90.
" Took
Morsel.
A mixed metal,somewhat
resemblingbrass.
That

Veronica,see

coveringof a pillow
hold of.

88

CANTERB

UR

TALES,

And thus with feigned

and japes,^
flattery
He made the parson and the people his apes.
But truelyto tellen at the last,
He was
in church a noble ecclesiast.
Well could he read a lesson or a story,
But alderbest^ he sang an offertory
;*
when that song was
For well he wistfe,
sung,
He musti
preach,and well afile*his tongue,
To winnfe
Therefore

as
silver,

he sang

he rightwell could ;
full merrilyand loud.**

in the
general descriptionof the Pardoner
Tales
but
in
the
Tales
;*
selves
themCanterbury
detailed
have
still
more
a
we
picture; painted by that
most
amusing and impudent cheat himself,and in the richest
satire. Before we proceed any further,
ever,
howstyleof humorous
be as well to notice a few particularsconcerning
it may
craft of which the individual
the originand history of the
in questionis so brilliant an exemplar. In the early ages of
Catholic Church, contrite sinners,
after confession,
the Roman
and
received
severe
not
public punishment, in
unfrequently
is the
prologue to the
Such

"

'"

"

addition to the painsof purgatory after death to which their sia

would
Occasionally, however, an induls^ence
subject them.
the
the severity
tion
durabishops,mitigating
was
or
by
granted
of punishment, or commuting
of both kinds
them
for
exercise.
works
of charity or pious
Such
the origin of
was
In progress of time,indulgences
were
granted on
wholesale scale ; as a temptation to wealthy persons
to
assist in the erection of some
great monastery or cathedral,or
of other important objects desired by the
for the attainment

indulgences.

more

The first great abuse of this power, appears

church.
to have
been produced by its too frequentuse by the bishops,
and by its
: the result of which
arrogationon the part of simple priests
was
of
remission
of punishment.
a most
injuriousfacility obtaining
The earlyfathers of the church, St. Cyprian and TertuUian, for
instance,complain of this state of things. A worse, however,

Indulgences not only were

granted without
of
originalpurpose,
merely commuting a
punishment for a specificsin,and in an appropriate
specific
to

was

follow.

reference

to

their

after a consideration
of all the circumstances
but
!
of
matters
became
sale
And
the
trafficin
them
although
they
had been severelyreprobated by many
councils,and although
the very bull by which
they were
granted contained a clause
manner,

'

Tricks.
anthein
The

irt
part

of the Mass.

"

2
or

Best

service chanted
*

of all.

and forming
during the offering,
a
File,sharpen,polish.

RELIGION.^THE

89

PARDONER.

Statingthat if anythingwere
given as the priceof the indulgence,
the indulgence itself became
null,yet it is well knoAvn that,in
the words of Godwin, "the
sale of indulgences,pardons,
and
occasions for which
multiplied,
were
continually
*
boundless
of
Rome."
the
to
court
revenue
brought a
By
the
time
of Chaucer
and Wycliffe,the evil had become
an
intolerable disgrace to the church in the eyes of all its enlightened
find both
and
those
pious friends ; consequently we
the
admirable
retailers
the
reformers
Pardoners, as
holding up
and
of indulgenceswere
called,to the scorn
contempt of their
the
dispensations,

their character so
The poet, in particular,
has drawn
of impositionadopted by
carefully; has detailed all the modes
there
wanted
them
with so keen a sarcasm
that
but the art of
;
printingfor its dissemination,to have saved our later writers and
preachersa great deal of trouble. The Pardoner thus addresses
readers.

the other

Pilgrims:

"

"

Lordings,quod he, in churchfe when I preach,

me^ to have a haughty speech,
I painfe
And ring it out as loud as doth a bell,
For I can all by rotfe that I tell.
My theme is alwayone, and ever was :
Radix

malorum

est

cupiditas,^

First I pronouncfe whennfes* that I come

;
And then my bulUs show I all and some
;
Our lieg^lord^s seal on my patent,
That show I first,
body to warrant ;
my
That no man
be so hardy,priest,
clerk
ne
Me

to

disturb

of Christy's

Then

have

Which

holywork.

that

"

I in laton a.shoulder bone,

of a holy Jewfessheep.
was

Good

men,
say I, take of my word^s Keep
If that this bone be wash'd in any well,
If cow, or calf,
ox^ swell.
or sheep,or

That any worm

hath eat, or
Take water
of that well and
And it is whole anon.
"

"

If that the
Will every

good man
week, ere

drinken
Fasting,

Life of

Take

note, bear in mind.

ystung,
his tongue,
"

that the beastfe oweth,*

that the cock him croweth,
of this well a draught,
our

elders

Chaucer,'vol. ii.,
p. 114.
Cupidity is the root of all evil.

wash

As thilkfe holy Jew

'

worm

taught ;

Whence,
Owneth.

paine me,

t,e,

I take

pains.

/
'

TALES,

CANTERBURY

93

Ilis beast^s and

And,

his store

also,it healeth
sirs,

shall

;
multipl}*
jealousy,

"

Here is a mitain* eke, that ye may sec

He that his hand^ put in this mitain.
He shall have multiplying
of his grain
When
he hath sowen, be it wheat or oats
So that he offer pence, or ellfes
groats."

for the relics of holy men, martyrs, etc.,

first ages of the Christian Church
the
; but
sprang up during
from Chaucer, had grown
in the
their use, which, it appears
fourteenth century into so vulgar a superstition,
and afforded
be dated probably from about
such a harvest to imposture,may
the end of the sixth century only. At that period Gregory I.
of the virtue inherent in
displayeda high sense
was
pope, who
of
his
is
There
letter
the
to
such things.
a
Empress Constantina,
in answer
to her request for a part of the body of St. Paul,which
the custom
not
he declines,on the ground that it was
of the
the
of
in
Christians
of
the
West, to touch,
general
Romans, or
the bodies of saints ; but that they put a
less to remove,
much
The

I
I

veneration

pieceof linen, called Brandeum,

near
them, which is afterwards
with
due
veneration in some
treasured
new
withdrawn, and
up
miracles are wrought by it,
church ; and as many
as ifthe bodies
there.
In order,however, not to wholly disappoint
themselves
were
the
the empress,
Pope added, he would send her some
his neck and hands.
of the chains which St. Paul wore
on
filings
that time the veneration for relics increased,tillitbecame,
From
have said,during the middle ages, a vulgar superstition,
as we
on
which impostorsthrove :"
"

By
A

this gaude have I wonnfe year by year

since I was
marks
hundred
Pardoner/'

the rogue of the * Canterbury Tales.'

**
"
of Rounceval
the chapel, we
The
;
poet tells us he is
'
built
the
tomb
of
over
to
Roland, nephew
Charlemagne,
presume,
I at the well-known
place in Spain where he was killed,and to
in the middle
which
of
chapel there was
ages
great resort
says

"it-

,"

*
r

*^

pilgrims; but his

visit has been to Rome

recent
most
; and hence
carries
his
in
he
hat
the vemicle
the token
ornament
an
of
the
of
s
aid
a miniature
to have
exhibiting
Christ,
picture
copy
lous
under the followingmiracubeen imprinted on a handkerchief,
"
circumstances
Saviour was
As our
:
carrying the cross,
a maid, named
Veronica,presented him with a handkerchief ;
"

"

Mitten.

"

RELIGION."

THE

PARDONER.

f)\

his face,and
from
he wiped the blood and sweat
then gave it back to her. On
lookingat the handkerchief, the
humane
and
found
pious
imprinted on it in colours a
possessor
of Christ ; thus originatedthe Sudarium
or holy kerchief
portrait
vernicle."
the Veronica
t
he
and, by corruption,
The Pardoner
that is to
merit
had certainlyone
candour
;
with

which

"

"

"

"

he was
As he has told
not
engaged.
professionally
say, when
of
the pilgrimsof his gains,so he also tells them
of his mode
least
his
of
a
ll
trade,or at
silencing oppositionto
punishingit,
which it appears was
by attackingthe offender from the pulpit,
"
For," he says,
frequentlyif not generallyopen to him.
"

"
"

when
I dare not other ways debate,
Then will I stinghim with my tongu^
smart
In preaching,so that he shall not astarte^
To be defamfed falsely,
if that he
Hath trespass*d
brethren or to me.
to my
For thouffh I tellfenot
shallwell knowen
Men

his proper name,

that it is the same,

:
By sign"s,and by other circumstances
do
I
folk
that
us
quit
displeasances.
under hue
spitI out my venom
Of holiness,
to seem
holy and true.
But shortl}'
mine intent I will devise,
I preach^ no thing but of covetise.

Thus
Thus

Therefore
Radix

theme

my

mahrum

est

is yet, and

ever

wa",

cuptditaij**

"
of the
However
Mr. Todd
lightlythe character
says,
be estimated,I must
omit to remark, that
Pardoner
not
may
the tale which the poet occasions him to recite,
(the awful story
*
in
Riotours' ) is extremely interesting
of Death and the Three
and moral effect."*
This observation, whether
its dramatic
so
intended
calculated
to
or
an
erroneous
not, appears
convey
impression; namely, that there is a want o' fitness between the

its relater,which is perhaps about the last fault that so

have committed.
would
Knowing
great an artist as Chaucer
3ie Pardoner's character and tastes, the pilgrims cry out,
his tale,
immediately that he is about to commence

tale and

"

Nay,
Tell

To

which

tell us
moral

some

the Pardoner
"

let him
us

of no ribaldry.
thing,that we may

learn."

replies
"

For though myself be a full vicious m.in,

A moral tale yet I you tellen can.
Which
I am
wont
to preachen for to win ;**

Escape.

"

Illustrationsof Gower

and

Chaucer,'p. 263.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

92

stated.
he " can by rote,"as he has before indirectly
tale is told ; and at its conclusion,the Pardoner, with
irresistible humour, says to the
and
consummate
assur
nee
and
The

which

pilgrims,
"

"

word forgot1 in my tale"

one
But, sirs,
I have relics and pardon in my mail.
As fair as any man
in "ng^-land,
Which
hand.
were
me
given by the Popfe*s
If any of you wiU of devotion
Offer,and have mine absolution,
forth anon, and kneeleth here adown.
ye shall have here my pardoiin.
Or ellfestaketh pardon,as ye wend
end ;
and fresh,
All new
at every town^s
and new,
So that ye offer alway new
Nobles or pence, which that be good and tnie.
It is an honour to every that is here.
That ye may have a siiffisantPardonere,
To assoilen^ you in country as ye ride
For idventur^s which that may betide.*'
Come

And

And

to

itiake the whole

thing richer and

more

he
ridiculous,

adds,
"

I redfe that our hosth shall begin.

For he is most
envelopM in sin.
Come
forth,sir host,and offer fiistanon.
And thou shalt kiss the relics tv^iv
one,

"

Yea, for

groat ; unbuckle

thy purse."

anon

is a laugh at the host's expense ; quickly,however,

There
returned upon the Pardoner, by
humorous
more
Bailly*s
and checks
than delicate retort.
The worthy knightinterferes,
the rising
the
two
so
"kics,**
anger ;

Har^

and

riden forth their

way.*

The Ellesniere manuscriptshows the long yellow hair spread

in parted locks upon the Pardoner's
ol
shoulders,his surcoat
with white,
and his scarlet cap with \h.^vernich
scarlet trimmed
in front. His stockings
blue. In his hand he carries the cross
are
of laton,a kind of brass or mixed
metal, coloured at the points,
yellow,red,and blue. The white lambskin wallet,bearing sucli
precious relics,rests on the horse's back, and is carefully
guarded by strings,which the Pardoner has hung round his
*

Absolve.

RELIGION.^THE

PARDONER.

93

by observing that to the Pardoner's class

in no
trifling
degree indebted for the acceleration, at
are
we
the retailing
It was
of indulgences
the
Reformation.
of
by
least,
in
friar,in
Wittenberg,
Tetzel,a Dominican
15 17, that brought
not only to their sale
Luther firstbefore the world,in opposition
and
but to their generalpurpose
tendency ; and so prepared his

neck.

We

conclude

for the abolition

he was
to wage
which
of
Pardoners
formed
of
abuses
but
throughout Europe
inconsiderable
to be
was
portion; and in which his success
an
of
the
afterwards
referred
to
as
one
for ever
greatest epochs in
the historyof intellectual independence.
in the Early English Text
Society
Wyclifs English Works
(ed. F. D. Matthew), Mr. Thos. Arnold's edition of Wyclifs
Latin
Press,the Reformer's
Sermons, etc.,for the Clarendon
well
Satirical
the
Works
as
publishedby the Wyclif Society,as
Ballad
Poems
in the Rolls Series,the Camden, Percy and
the
abuses
referred
of the
be
to as
illustrating
Societies,
may
Pardoners, Friars,etc.,in England.
Chaucer's
of
adventures
further
The
Pardoner, in the
logue
Chequers Inn, at Canterbury, are amusingly told in the Proof Beryn, in Urry's Chaucer, and Dr. Fumito the Tale
vall'sedition for the Chaucer
Society,
mind

for the

mightierwarfare

CANTERBURY

94

THE

TALES.

PARSON.

the characters
so
poet the luxurious
and
delicate
sentimental
the
the
monk,
prioress,
and
that
able
inimitlicentious vagabond friar,
pair of
and
the
Pardoner
scoundrels, the Sumpnour
; if at
what
consider
have
been
time
the
must
the same
we
these
of the ecclesiastical system of England, when
state
shall be precould be presentedas its chief exemplars,we
pared,
half
s
uch
statement
must
we
a
as
anticipate,
nay,
that of Hallam, that " the greater part of literature in the
levelled against the
middle ages may be considered
as artillery
"
"
I
he
the Church, which
do
against
subjoins,
clergy.
not,
say
universal. But
might imply a doctrinal opposition
by no means
heretical writers are
if Uiere is one theme upon which the most
Divided
ecclesiastical
selves,
themit
is
united,
corruption.
among
monks
the secular clergydetested the regular; the regular
friars ; who in their turn, after exposing
satirized the mendicant
incurred a double portionof it
of the people,
both to the ill-will
themselves.
In this most
important respect, therefore, the
influence of mediaeval literature was
powerfultowards change.
But it rather loosened
the associations of ancient prejudice,
for revolutions of speculativeopinion,
and prepared mankind
The greatest beyond comparison
than brought them forward."
of the writers of this " mediaeval
literature,"the boldest in
courage, and the most powerful and searching in intellect of the
"that was
wielders of this " artillery
though imperceptibly,
daily,
weakening the whole fabric of clerical abuse, was aJso the man
who, not willingto confine his labours to the removal of "ancient
set up for the guidance of his countrymen,
a light,
prejudices,"
shine merely to bring ihem
that did not
forward, but diat
have yet
remains to this day, so far in advance
of all that we
to bringforward ourselves,
achieved,that itmay serve, ifwe will,
and
children's
and our
our
children,
children,to the remotest
generations.Yet that man, strange and utterlyunaccountable
does the eminent historian from whom
as, to us, appears the fact,
have
transcribed
the preceding passage, pass over, in his
we
of the
to
work, with less notice than is vouchsafed
many
who
and
thousand
and one
fretted
have
strutted
personages
their hour upon
the stage, and then are heard of no more,
have just referred to.
It is
except in such works as that we
F

we

glanceback for a moment

graphicallyportrayed by our
now

ov.*'r
"

"

"

"

indeed, we

rep^'at,

strange, and

to

us

unaccountable
utterly

PARSON.

THE

(from
"

(Full) rich
Christfes
He

Page

94-]

he

love

taught

the

KLLESMERE

was

of

and

his

and

holy thought

MS.)
and

work.
,

apostles twelve,

first he

followed

it himselve.'*

PARSOI^.

RELIGION.^THE

^%

devoted to a period
circumstance,that in a Historyof Literature,
of some
three centuries,the greatest, with but one
two
or
of
all
if
consider
the
therein
dealt
and
men
we
with,
exceptions,
all the circumstances
of his position
as regards England merely,
we
might almost say, the greatest without any exception,
in a few lines. Surely this is a
Chaucer, is passed over
than
of
in Mr.
contained
literature,
greater curiosity
any
D' Israeli's amusing work.
with pullingdown
content
not
: he
Yes, Chaucer was
knew\
there must be also building
u^) ; that the two processes should go |
on
together,and with something like an equalityof forces ; and |
and wonder, '
he has built up an edifice,
upon which admiration,
and deep reverence
exhaust themselves,in the vain hope
may
"

"

of

it makes
Yet itis
the eternal demand
satisfying
upon them.
but a compositionof some
thus
we
or sixtylines of which
fifty
but
that of
speak ; the character to which they are devoted is
of a town
;'**but such a character as, without
a "poore parson
it
Testament
irreverence be
said,the inspired
pages of the New
alone paralleland
indeed,
source,
surpass ; from which
him
Chaucer
has evidently
borrowed
the strength that makes
It is as if the poet, with his whole
somethingmore than human.
the
moral bemg filledwith the Divine truths of the Sermon
on
Mount, and his whole intellectual being raised to the highest
pitchby the consciousness that even they were to derive a kind
of new
force from his writings,
had suddenly, with the loftiest
dramatic
into a shape that was
them
to live,
skill,
personified
and move, and breathe before men's eyes, from that time forward,
of these remarks,
Let not our readers,in consequence
evermore.
look for something full of brilliancy
and excitement ; they will
find the ordinarygraces of poetical
not even
we
style. What
trust they will agre6 with us in thinkingthey do find,
is,in brief,
liest
of the noblest of earthlycharacters,in the simplest,homeone
of shapes. Behold, then,the poore Parson
I"
can

"

"

there of religioun,
was
good man
Which
Parson ofa town :
a poorfe
was
But rich he was
of holy thought and work.
He was
also a learned man, a Clerk,
That Christy's gospelgladlywould^ preach.
His parishens^
devoutlywould he teach.

Beni^ he was, and wondrous diligent,

And m adversity
full patient :
And such he was
often sithes.'
yprovfed
Full loth were
him to cursen
for his tithes ;
*

of

The

"

town

"

of Chaucer's

day

may

ours.
*

Parishioners.

"

Times.

be described

as

the

village

$6

UR Y

CANTERB

TALES.

But rather would he given,out of doubt,

Unto
his poor^ parishensabout
Of his offrln^,
and eke of his substance.
He could in little thinghave st^ffisance.

Wide
But
In

was

he

ne

his parish,and houses

left^ not for rain nor

"ar

asunder,

thunder,

in mischief^ to visite
and lite,*
farthest in his parish,much
and in his hand a staff.
Upon his feet,
This noble ensample to his sheep he yaf,'
That firsthe wrought, and after that he taught.
Out of the Gospel he the wordfes caught,
ne
sickness,

The

this figurehe added

And

what
That if goldrustfe,
"

He

yet thereto :
should iron do ?
"

"

his benefice to hire.

And left his sheep
encumber'd
in the mire,
And ran to Lonaon, unto Saints Poul's,
To seeken him a chant^ryfor souls.
Or with a brotherhood
to be withhold ;
But dwelt at home, and kept^ well his fold.
So that the wolf ne made it not miscarry:
settfe not

and no mercenary.
He was a shepherd,
And though he holy were, and virtuous.
He was
to sinful men
;*
nought dfspitous
Ne of his speech^dangerous,"
ne
digne,*
But in his teaching
discreet and benign.
^
To drawen folk to Heaven
by cleanliness,
his business.

By good ensample was

But^ it were

any person obstinate.

of high or low estate,
What
so he were
would be snibben* sharplyfor the nonfes.^*
Him
A better priest
I trow there no where none
is.
He waited after no pomp, ne reverence,
Ne makfed him a spicM conscience ;
and his Apostlestwelve,
But Christy's lore,
He taught,and firsthe followed it himselve."

^^v'S'*^^
4

'

An interesting
questionhere naturally
suggests itself. Was
in
this spiritual
alone
much
the
desire
for
tion,
elevaChaucer
as
in the power of developingit? Or
as he undoubtedly was
of a band of rehe but one, althoughthe most
was
illustrious,
of the
of
the bosom
as
out
who,
reformers,
before,sprang
ligious
Catholic

Church

to denounce

Misfortune.

Gave.

"

Disdainful.

'

itsmanifold
'

Much

errors

and

?
corruptions

and lite rich and poor.

Inexorable,
pitiless.
"
Purity.
Except.
*"
Nonce, occasion*

"

"
"

Sparing,as fearful.
Snub"Rebuke.

kBLlGIOI^."THE

Wycliffeand

his

at
disciples

once

PAkSON.

97

to

the recollection in

occur

Hallam

observes,in his Historyof Literature,

general, that three distinct currents
may
off
religiousopinionsare discernible,on this side of the Alps, in
answer.

"It

be

said in

the first part of the fifteenth century.

The high pretensionsof
the Church
of Rome
to a sort of moral, as well as theological
and
in temporal
to a paramount
infallibility,
authority even
when
she should think fit to interfere with them, were
affairs,
maintained
and mendicant
by a great body in the monastic
orders, and still exercised probably a considerable influence
councils of
the people in most
The
over
parts of Europe.
and
of Gallican
Constance
and
Basle, and the contentions
churches
German
the
encroachments
of
the
against
holy see
had raised up a strong adverse party, supportedoccasionally
by
and more
the government,
the
uniformlyby
temporal lawyers
and other educated
It derived,however, its greatest
laymen.
force from a number
of sincere and earnest
set
persons, who
themselves
againstthe gross vices of the time, and the abuses
through self-interest or connivance.
grown
up in the church
also, at the scholastic systems, which had
They were
disgusted,
into
of subtle dispute,while they
turned
matter
a
religion
laboured
devotional
it on
to found
feelingand contemplative
love. The mysticaltheology,which, from
nating
seeking the illumiinfluence and piercinglove of the Deity,often proceeded
visions of complete absorptionin his essence, tillthat
lost,as in the East, from which this system sprang, in
an
annihilatingpantheism,had never
wanted, and can never
want, its disciples.A third religious
party consisted of the [
avowed
concealed
or
heretics,some
disciplesof the older I
of Wycliffe or Huss, resembling the school of
some
sectaries,
and Gerard
Gerson
Groot in their earnest
piety,but drawing a
themselves
and the
decided
line of separationbetween
more
reformation
than
and
for
more
a
rulingpower,
ripe
complete
inclined to desire."
the others were
An amusing book might be written on poets'
opinionsof each
its chapters,none
would
be more
other,and certainly,
among
than
the
of
amusing
John Dryden upon Geofirey
opinions
then
Chaucer, excellent as they occasionally are, but even
recollections
With
the
of
the
most
unfortunately,
inapplicable.
of the Parson
fresh on his mind, does
preceding description
the reader thmk he has justdrunk a draught from that well
not
of Englishundefiled,
of which
Spenser speaks in connexion
with his great predecessor? It is a melancholy mistake, it
of the very
seems
: that
pieces that
descriptionforms one
Dryden, to use his own
words, translated into English;'^
of the "rough diamonds''
is one
which
undertook
he
to
onward
itself was

to

CANTERBURY

98
**

polish,"in

result

order

to

make

TALES,
it shine.

Well,

let

us

see

the

"

"

A
An

of the pilgrimtrain
was
parishpriest
man.
awful,reverend,and religious

His eyes diffused a venerable grace,

in his face.
And charityitselfwas
his soul,though his attire was
Rich was
poor ;
(As God had clothed his own ambassador ;)
bore.
earth his bless'd Redeemer
Of sixtyyears he seem'd ; and well might last
To sixtymore, but that he lived too fast ;
Refin'd himself to soul,to curb the sense,
For

such

And

on

made

almost a sin of abstinence.

Yet had his aspect nothing of severe.
But such a face as promisedhim sincere ;
to see,
or sullen was
Nothingreserved,
But sweet regards,and pleasingsanctity.
Mild was
his accent, ana
his action free.

With

eloquenceinnate his tongue was arm*d ;

charm 'd.
Though harsh,the preceptyet the people
For letting
down the goldenchain on high.
He drew his audience upward to the sky ;
their ears,
And oft with holy hymns he charmed
(A music more melodious than the spheres).
For David left
him, when he went to rest,
His lyre; and afterhim, hi sung the lest.^^

beautiful lines in this.

It could not be otherwise
their
author
but
what
become
has
of
Dryden was
;
which forms one of the great charms
the patriarchal
of
simplicity,
of
There
is
?
and
the original
plenty fancy
vigour,no doubt,but
and grandeur of the poore Parson ?
the repose, humility,
where
are
The poet Dryden has shown
himself,as a poet, unquestionably,
and that so often,that one
sciousness
hardly loses for an instant the conbut
take
leave
of his presence
we
to preferthe
;
in entire absorptioninto the subject,
of self,
utter
forgetfulness
If from generals we
descend
that characterises- Chaucer.
to
ludicrous.
Dryden'sverses become in parts positively
particulars,
excellences
such
that
he
riot " sullen"
as
was
negative
Passing over
nor
"reserved,"and such positiveones, as that his "action"
"
was
free,"who can help smiling at the pictureof the poore
down
Parson
the golden chain ; or at the very mysterious
letting
character of that lyre,which
David, it seems, bequeathed to
him, when he went to rest, and on which the Parson performed
such musical
wonders?
The fact is,Dryden did not live long
It took him the
enough to get rid of all his early heresies.
he
of
imleam
and unsay what
the
did
live
to
period
greater part
Now

there

when

are

KELIGION\"THE

PARSON.

99

of his career
learned and said concerning
Shakspere, (the successive stages of this recantation, let us
the most
are
observe, by the way,
interestingand
among
but that
gratifyingthings in literaiyhistory;) who knows
he
had
been
but
a
glorious John would,
spared
quarter of
had

he

at the

longer, have

century

his

outset

pre-eminence

with

proved himself no less worthy of

regard to the morning Star of our

Poetry ?
Prof.

J.

R.

Seeley has

suggested that

Chaucer

drew

hisj

from
his contemporary,
the Parson
John Wyclif.
Reformer's,
all hope that he did.
the
We
must
Certainly
teaching,had it been followed,would have brought all English
The
student should not fail to
prieststo the Poet's standard.
study Williams' Vision of Piers Ploughman, in one of Prof.

pictureof

Skeat's

in
editions,

Chaucer's

the religiousquestionsof
day, besides the authorities referred to on p. 93.
connection

with

VR

CANTERB

100

Section
PROFESSIONAL

IV.

SERGEANT-AT-LAW-

MEN."THE

feature of old times

characteristic

VERY

shown

to

members

7ALSS.

in

England,

is

the
in the * Canterbury Tales,'where
different classes of society,being
of many
us

object,mingle freely
the proud undeterred
by any of that

brought together by

common

together; the rich and

feverish desire
their fellow-men, and
stand
aloof from
to
of depenthe poor and humble, by any of that chillingsense
dence,
in
classes
of
which
mark
th6
those
relations
often
too
our

to

own

What
induced

day.

that which

motive

of

an

ancestors

our

equallypowerful nature
to go
on
pilgrimages to

be found),
different shrines
(could such a motive
many
aiid
would
suffice
the
to bring
"justice
now
sergeant-at-law
full often at assize"
into intimate
companionship with the
to
reason
Yet there is no
ploughman, the miller,the host?
doubt
Chaucer's
bility
fidelity
only painted what in all proba; he
it
time
he had frequently
must
whilst
the
at
same
seen
;
of
be observed
that sergeants-at-law were
then
personages
so

still greater

importance than

now.

They

were

the

Judges ^f

the most
chosen only from among
opulent,
well as most
learned members
of the profession. It would
as
have been highlyunreasonable
indeed to have done otherwise,
their investiture
the
that attended
considering
great expenses

England

; and

were

with the

bound
to give a
sergeant'srobes and coif. They were
dinner
like
feast
the
to
of
a king's coronation,"which
great
"
to
continue and last for the space of seven
was
days ;" and it
of those
was
"
that
none
expresslyprovided,says our authority,^
elected should defray the charges growing to him about
the
costs of the solemnity,with less expenses
of 4cxj
than the sum
marks
:" an immense
in those days.
sum
Stow's account
of the preparations for the table,reads
like
the account
of a feast for a people, rather than for a sergeants'
dinner.
There
it appears,
twenty-four "great beefs,"
were,
then
valued
valued
at 26s, Sd. each, and
at 24J. ; one
one
"

Dugdale's OriginesJuridiciales.'

SERJEANT-AT-LAW.

THE

(from
"

Discreet
He

iV-^iioo.]

seemed

he

MS.)

ELLESMERE

the

was

and

of

great

such, his word^s

reverence,

were

so

wise."

MEN."

PROFESSIONAL

1 HE

SERGEANT'AT-LAW,

loi

valued at zr. lod. each ; fifty-one

fat muttons,
great
at
porks, or boars,
veals,at 4^. "/. each ; thirty-four
y. yi, ;
"
Greece
of
of one
ninety-onepigs,at 6d, ; ten dozen
capons
of
six
Sd.
and
nine
dozen
at
is. ;
Kent,
IS.
poulter/'
;
capons
innumerable
at 2d. and
2^. the dozen ; pigeons,at 2d.
pullets,
dozen.
As a magnificent
the
at
the dozen; and
larks,
S^
conclusion,
came/ourfeen dozen swans, the prices of which arc
hundred

recorded.
the gold rings,
one
The other chief items of expenditure,were
the
at
of which was
to
important
present
given
every
personage
"
and
officers
of creation,
from the prince down to the
ceremony
in the king'scourts," and the countless suits
other notable men
that were
expected from the newly-made
or liveries of cloth
of his household,by his friends,
sergeant-at-lawby the members
and his acquaintances. All this has been since done away with,
not

"

societybeing disbanded. As several sergeants were generally

for
convenient
most
found
the same
at
time, it was
have
feast ; which, as we
them to join in giving one
common
held
and
became
was
most
a
generally
magnificent affair,
seen,
eleven
The
in one of the chief palaces of London.
sergeants
made by Henry VIII., in 1531, kept their feast at Ely-house,
the king himself,with his consort
Hoibom
Katherine,
; when
of the five days the feast then
honoured
them, on the principal
They sat, Stow has remarked,
lasted,with their presence.
"
in two chambers," that is to say, apart from each other (they
within the next
divorced
eighteen months) ; and the
were
ambassadors
occupieda third. ^ In the hall,at the high
foreign
of London, the judges,
table,sat Sir Nicholas Lambard, mayor
of the city.
the barons of the exchequer, with certain aldermen
the

created

the
of the rolls,
south side sat the master
the
On
citizens.
north
of the chancery, and worshipful
master
side of the hall, certain aldermen
began the board, and then
of
In
the cloister,
the city.
followed merchants
chapel,and
and gentlemen were
placed. Iti the
knights,esquires,
gallery,
and their
The
of
London.
crafts
sergeants-at-law
halls,the
tedious to set down
It were
chambers.
wives kept in their own
victuals
and
other
of
the preparation
fish,flesh,
spent in this
At the board

on

the

ends by conHe
almost incredible."
firming
of
feast
little
"it
wanted
at
a
a
Dugdale*s remark,
from Stow, that
add to this account
We
must
coronation."
the hall, the
stationed without
minstrels and trumpeters were

feast,and

would

seem

With such extraordinary

need
their initiation into the new
we
office,
on
expenses to meet
sometimes
that
it
to
find
was
not
be surprised to
necessaiy
althoughat the same
summon
persons by writ to take it,even
*'
of
law
time there was
man
no
throughout the universal world
whole

time, playingat every

course.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

of these
of his office gained so much
one
as
by reason
before
the disbanding
discontinued
sergeants."^ Such dinners were
to pay a
of the society,though Sergeants continued

which

considerable
Such were

law,

on
(;^35o)

sum

the rank

the time

at

and

their

entrance.

importance

the poet introduced

of this member

of the

into the Canterbury

him

pilgrimage.
"

Sergeantof Law, wary and wise,

That often hadde been at the Parvise^
There was
also,full rich of excellence.
Discreet he was, and of great reverence
s
He seemfed such,his wordfes were
so wise.
Justice he was full often in assize,
By patent, and by pleine^ coramissioun.
For his sci^ice,and for his high renown,
Of fees and robfes had he many
one.
So great a purchaser^was
where none.
no
All

fee-simpleto him
purchasingmight not
Nowhere
so busy a man
as
was

His

And

in

effect,
suspect.^
he there n'as.

be in

yet he seemfed busier than he

In term^s

had he case and doom"s

That from the time of King Will
Thereto he could indite,
and make
That couldfe no man
pinch at* his

was.

all,
weren
a

falL

thing

writing.
And every statute could he plainby rote.
He rode but homely in a medley coat.
Girt with a seint^ of silk,
with barrfes small."
Warton, speaking of the word
derived
adoptsin his

from

Parvis,says that it is supposed

Paradise,which

Richardson
houses had a
Dictionary. Many of our old religious
Paradise
called
the
the
to
name
came
place
; hence, perhaps,
of churches, as was
be appliedto the porticos
the case
both in
and English languages.
We
find in Chaucer*s
the French
de la Rose'
the 'Roman
translation from
the
following
to be

derivation

Mr.

passage

"

"

There was no wight in all Paris

Before Our Lady' at Parvis,
That they ne might the bookfe buy :"

and Warton
taught to
says that in the year 1300 children were
read and sing in the Parvis of St. Martin's church at Norwich.
1

"
8
"

Dudgale.

"

Pleine"

Prosecutor,and e^ter.
Pinch at, lay holoof
flaws

Suspicion.

Cinct,

or

girdle,

full.

in his writing,
' Notre
Dame.

PROFESSIONAL

MEN,-^THE

SERGEANT'AT'LAW.

103

in connexion
with the schools oft
"Sophistry"fonnerly existingin Oxford, which consisted
in logic,held in the afternoon.
academic
exercises,principally
Chaucer's Sergeant-at-Law "often hadde
The Parvis to which
The

word

same

was

also used

of|
'

been," stood in the

same

relation

law

the

to

that the

Oxford

'

schools did to logic. " Here

not
only young lawyers repaired
but old sergeants to teach and show
their cunning."'
to learn,
We
learn also from Fortescue, that the Courts
of Law
were
shut after mid-day, and that the lawyers then went
to meet
their clients,
and hold consultations at the Parvis,and elsewhere.
The
metropolitan
parviswas the porticoof St Paul's
where
the
Cathedral,
sergeants chose their respectivepillars,
the
of the Stock Exchange
do in
eminent
members
as
more
their place of meeting to this day : and a noisy,bustlingscene
St. Paul's porticomust
In a
have presented at such times.
manuscriptwritten by one of the benchers of Middle Temple
Hall,about 1660,complaint is made that the young students of
the Temple, having no
make
place to walk in and converse,
their church their promenade and study,and that during Term
of the confluence
of suitors,the sacred
Time, by reason
in
had
than the Pervyse of
it
more
no
building
quietness
Pawle's.
The lines,
'

'

"

"

In term^s
That

had he

case

from the time of

and doomis
King Will

all,
weren

fall,"

the Sergeant was

thoroughly familiar with all the
and
cases
dooms, or decisions,which had been given from the
time of the Conqueror. Chief JusticeGlanvil,who lived in
the reignof Henry II.,appears to have been the most
eminent
of those early writers who
reduced the feudal laws and customs
into treatises,
and thus laid the foundation of the system of
the passage
Englishjurisprudence
; which, it is evident from
before us, had not in Chaucer's time been materially
affected by
civil
law in the
introduction
the
of the study of the Roman
or
twelfth century. Chaucer
says, in connexion with our Sergeant's
duties of the legalprofesof
of the humbler
some
sion,
performance

implythat

that

no

one"

"

could^

pinch at

his

writing."

so very powerfully
professional
subtletyand precision
it
fourteenth
in
of
the
the
was
or
lawyers
developed
century,
is given by
? The answer
that they worked
on
good principles
Chief JusticeHale, who, speakingof the character of the rolls of

Was

then

Waterhouse's

'

Commentary

on

Fortescue.'

104

TALES.

CANTERBURY

the
I.,commends
reignof Edward
laws
the
of the pleadings,of
and perspicuity
upon
of
and
the
judgments
finally
pleadings proceeded,

judicialproceedings of the
clearness

the
given; he
which

of the whole from

Would
could revive these lawyers of
of words.
we
multiplicity
into our
infuse
little
common
sense
own
a
the middle ages, to
discussion
and
of parliament,and into the interminable
acts
rise.
their
to which
wordy jargon gives
litigation
the
word
called
so
The
originally from
Sergeants,
connexion
with
the
their
as
crown
serviens
expressing
from
the inns of court
summoned*
its servants, were
by the
inns originally
consisted of three bodies,
sovereign. These
and the inner barristers ;
the benchers, the utter barristers,

especiallynotices

the

freedom

the last being the students,the second a body more

advanced,
from the students,whilst from them
chosen
and
again were
The
barrister
chosen
the benchers,or governing body.
name
derived from the bar that separated the
is in all probability
raised on
the
of
a
dais,from the
hall, which was
part
upper
when
Here the students were
lower.
congregated as listeners,
the
but
utter
outer
or
going on ;
mootings or readings were
barristers were, in due progress of time and study,called upward
the proceedthe bar, and there they conducted
ings.
to a seat near
The Readings took placeat least twice in every year, and
marked
by great solemnity. The Reader, having selected
were
some
statute, recited the doubts which had arisen, or might
arise upon
it,and ended by a declaration of his own judgment.
the matter, and
Then
the utter barristers generally debated
and
the
the
conclude
to
whole,
judges present also
sergeants
of the most
their opinions. Some
profound judicial
gave
these readings:
in
the
were
by
language
originated
papers
Bacon
of Uses.
Statute
The
the
that by Lord
on
as, for instance,
more
hardly less valuable,and much
Mootings, which were
the
to
formed
an
Readings,
appropriateappendage
interesting,
derived
students
of
benefit
the
the
amount
t
esting
by indirectly
their
forward
and
from
the latter,
legal
by directlycarrying
The
Reader
sat in the open hall,accompanied
education.
now
whilst on each side two of the
of the utter barristers,
by some
counsel
took their places, as
students
inner barristers or
and
The
defendant.
for
an
imaginary plaintiff
respectively
of course
that involved nice points of
one
case
chosen, was
it had been fullystated on both sides by the
law ; and when
more
juvenile counsel, two utter barristers expressed their
opinionsupon the pointsraised,and finallythe Reader, and the
Such
the
who
was
sat with him, summed
older benchers
up.
trainingof the bodies from which all the high legalfunctionaries
The firststage of progress in
of the realm were
to be chosen.

PROFESSIONAL

MEN."

THE

SERGE

ANT-

A T-IA

IV, loj

active

for those who aimed at distinction,

in Chaucer's
was
life,
the barristers \*ho bore that
period that of apprentice-at-law,
inferior
in the king's
the
class
of advocates
appellationforming
who were
court.
Above
these stood the sergeants-at-law,
the (
who
and
the
also
acted
to
assessors
advocates,
as
principal
chief justiciar,
while his office lasted.
But in Chaucer's time, a
establishments
took
in
the
change
place
great
judicial
supreme
'

of the country.

The

officeof Chief
three divisions

who
Justiciar,

had

previously

of the
the
of the great court
presided over
Aula
three
and
the
abolished
the
then
sovereign,
Regis, was
;
of King's Bench, Conundn
courts
Fleas,and Exchequer, each
assumed
a separate and
independentexistence. The sergeants
chosen as judges of the two former ; but the latter,
were
being
then considered
for
of
the
court
a
regulation revenue,
mereljr
required n6 legalsuperior,and was therefore generallyplaced
of some
under the care
nobleman.
Hence, until the passing
of the JudicatureAct, we
and a certain
had a chief justice^
oi judges of the King's Bench
and of the Common
nmnber
thus
Pleas ; but barons of the Exchequer. And the customs
stillin force,
established were
to the fact that these"justices"
even
and "judges"requiredto be chosen from the body of sergeants ;
and that the ''barons " could not act as judges of assize without
The changes relative to the
possessingthe same
qualification.
criminal
civil jurdisdiction
and
general business of
throughout
the country, that took place also in the poet'slifetime,
were
with
the
scarcelyless important than those connected
supreme
The
firstmode of avoidingthe inconveniences
attached
courts.
to the custom
of congregatingtogetherin the Aula Regis, at
Westminster
(orwherever it pleasedhis majesty to be during
term
all
the causes
civil and criminal that the crime or
time),
the litigation
rise to, was
the
of England generally gave
in
the
of
itinerating
justices Eyre, as
appointment
judges,
theywere called,who went their rounds,at firstabout every seven
III. this system "yas put an
years ; but in the reign of Edward
the
and
business
of
the
of the Eyre judges
end to,
whole
devolved upon the
to forests)
(exceptingthat relating
especially
who
of
had
been
assize,
judges
appointed in the reign of
Edward
I. to travel through the country twice a year, to try,
by a peaceablemode, the writs of rightthat had been formerly
determined
onlyby the bloody and barbarous system of trial by
The
actions at Nisi Prius had been previously
combat.
added
"
assize
writs
to the
;" and thus the present system of assizes
which
is
still
of the business in
known
by the name
arose,
it originated,
appeared,
diswhich
business
has entirely
that
although
itself is now
familiar
and the meaning of the term
in fact
assize
the
the
As
were
to
only
legalantiquary.
judgesat
K

tANTEkBVRV

106

TAl"S.

the judges of the supreme

also, as we have
courts, they were
necessarilypossessing" the degree of the
alreadyshown, men
coif,which was ceased to be conferred."
Inns were
Three
at one
by the
periodoccupied exclusively
and occasional residence ; situated
Sergeants,for their practice,
and Chancery Lane. The
in Holbom, Fleet Street,
respectively
firstwas
abandoned
long ago, the second burnt down in the last
third
remains ; the Sergeants'Inn of Chancery
century, and the
for fourteen
in
Lane, rebuilt
1838,which contained diambers
"

requiredfor those
sergeants, in addition to the accommodation
who
law
also common
were
judges,to dispose of such
sergeants
had intrusted to the decision of a single
legislature
remaining or junior sergeants, while waiting for a
iudge.
were
dispersedthrough the different Inns of Courtvacancy,
"
fees and rob^s ;'
Our Sergeant,itappears, had received many
the
another
robes, peculiar to ancient
custom, as regards
of law
of
when
all
the
officers
the superiorcourts
England,
for
both
received
from
such
the king's wardrobe
clothing
in
of
the
Of
dress
and
winter.
the
the
summer
Sergeant
fourteenth century, the * Vision of Piers Ploughman
givesus
We
read there,
idea.
some
cases

the

as

The

'

"ni

oai/

'

'

"

"

Shall
Nor

no

his service wear

silk hood
no
his cloak for pleading
at the bar.'*

Sergeantfor

pelureon

In the Ellesmere
a scarlet habit,with
manuscripthe wears
with
with small bars
faced
and
ornamented
blue,
open sleeves,
His
white
is
furred
hood
his
shoulders,and he
or stripes.
upon
distinction
characteristic
of
the
the
wears
Sergeant, the coit
continued
head.
This
dress
his
to be worn
"medley"
upon
time.
three
The
robes
of
in
then
were
even
colours,
Dugdale's
(ordark red),black furred with white, and scarlet. At
murrey
the date of disbanding the Society the arrangements
were, a
for
time
occasions
of
black
cloth
term
on
ordinary
;
gown
violet coloured for Court or holidays; scarlet for processions
dinners at Guildhall,
or when
to St. Paul's,
they attended the
House
of Lords during the sovereign's
presence ; black silk for.
have been, but seldom
trials at Nisi Prius ; which
to
ought
with
for
the
the
sentence
exchanged
scarlet,
was,
cap, when
called upon on circuits to try causes
or prisoners.
that among
the exquisite
We
observe, in conclusion,
may
with which
of satirical description
the Canterbury
touches
Tales abound, there are none
happier than that which paints
of
the
of
littleaffectations
eminent
the
one
lawyer ;
"

No where so busy a man

as he there n'as,
And yet he seemed buster than he was,**

107

MEN,"THESEKGEANT-AT'LAIK

PROFESSIONAL

shall transcribe
has described (ina passage that we
:
of the pilgrims
elsewhere)his own personalappearance, as one
is
called,
of law, as the Sergeant
with the man
in connexion
to
desirous
as though
he further alludes to his previouswritings,
the Canterbury
make a niche for them, too, in his great edifice
do his best,
he
must
that
The Sergeant,while agreeing
Tales.
fund of
the common
like the other pilgrims,to contribute to
Chaucer

"

"

observes,
entertainment,
but nathfeless certafn

""

can

rightnow

other tal^ sain,

(though he can but lewedly^
no

But Chaucer
and on myming certainly)
On metres
Hath said them, in such Englishas he can
a man.
Of oldfe time,as knoweth
many
And if he have not said them, levfe^brother,
he hath said them in another.
In one

book,

For he hath told of lovers up and down,

of mentioun
More than Ovidfe made
that ben so old.
In his Epistoiis^
should I tellen them, since they be told ?
What
In youth he made of Ceyx and Alcyone,'
And sithen hath he spoke of every one,
and these lovers eke.
These noble

wivfes,

volume
seek,
that will his largfe
of
the saintfeslegend Cupide*;
Clepfed
wide
woimdes
There may he see the largfe
Of Lucrece,and of Babylon Thisb^ ;
of Dido for the false JEntt \
The sorrow

Whoso

Phyllisfor her Demophon,

of Dian',^and of Hermion,
plaint
Of Anadne, and Hypsipilfe,^
The barren islfestandingin the sea ;

The
The

tree of

"

The

drown'd

Leander

tor his fair Hero^

and eke the woe

The
Helenfe,
Ladomia^
of
and
;
Of Briseis,
of thee,queen Medea
;
The cruelty
littlechildren hanging by the halse',
tears of

Thy

of love so false.
For thy Jason,that was
Alceste,
O Hipermn^stra,Penelope,
"
with the best, "c.
he
commendeth
wifehood
Your

passage
Altogetheran interesting

in Chaucer's

biography.

" The
firstpart of * the Dethe of reiaunchc'
Dear.
allthe women
* * The
Legend.of Good Women.' It does not contain
1889.
See Prof. Skeat's edition,
mentioned here.
"

Ignorantly.

of the barren
Hypsifile

is,Hero

"

That

'

Laodamia,

"c.
isle^

weeping for her dead^Leander.

*
Neck.

tANTERBURV

tbS

TALES.

MANCIPLE.

THE

old inns of court,

of this officer of our
{HE name
to purchase their
colleges,etc.,whose business it was
from the Latin
be
derived
provisions,is supposed to
word

of
superintendent

the
particularly

signifiedmore

ntanceps^ which

publicbakehouse, and

thence

from

baker

generally.
"A gentleManciple was
there,of a temple ;
Of which achatours^ mighten take example
For to be wise in buying of vitaille;
For whether that he paid,or took by taille,'
Algate'he waited^ so in his achate.
That he was aye before,
and in good state.
Now
is not that of God a full fair grace.
That such a lewfed^ mannfe*s wit shall pace*
The wisdom
of a heap of learnfed men
?
Of masters
had he more
than thri"s ten
That were
of law expert and curious,
Of which there were
dozen in a house,
a
Worthy to be stewdrdes of rent and land
any lord that is in Engfe-land,
him livfe by his proper good.
make
but^ he were
In honour
wooa
debtfeless,
;"
" as
Or live as scarcely
he can
desire,
able for to helpen all a shire.
And
In any cas" that might fall or hap :
And
yet this Manciple set their aller^*cap."

Of

To

should now
sence
In the abfools of them.
say, made
t
for
this
of any
necessity
illustrating description,he
tale told by the Manciple may
furnish
for a few
matter
This is a curious medley. Phoebus,
and observations.
extracts
house
it appears, once
dwelt "in earth adown," and had
a
He had
and
a
wife, and various other domestic comforts.

Or,

as

also

we

"

"

In his house a crow,

Which
in a cage he fostered manv
a day,
And taught it speaking,
do a jay.
as men
^

Purchasers.
That is to say,

on

as
credit,
using the tally

the mode

of reckoning.

Always.
Watched, or, in
purchasing.
*

other

Unlearned.

"

Mad.

"

words, was
Pass

or

ever

surpass.

Sparingly.

so

attentive to his business

'

Unless.

"

Of them alL

of

MANCIPLE.

THE

(from
"

Of
For

f"agi

which
to

108.J

Achatours

be wise

in

the

ELLESMERE

MS.)

[purchasers]mighten
buying

of victuaille."

take

exemple,

PROFESSIONAL

MANCIPLE.

MEN.^THE

White

this crow, as is a snow-white

swan
was
counterfeit the speech of every man
could^^when he should^ tell a tale.
There is within this'world no nightingale
Ne could^ bj a hundred
thousand del,'Singen so wondrous
merrilyand well."

109

And
Ha

And

it would

priorto this periodpossessed

appear that all crows
beauty of voice and feather. But a dark fate overhangs

the same
Phoebus

and his poor crow

gether
altoto one
: he is unhappilywedded
unsuited to him, and, to make
endeavours
mattera
worse,
her by restraint,
well as to win her by love and
to
coerce
as
"
'*
No man
embrace
kindness.
But all is in vain.
may hope to
he loves it,in spiteof the
and
much
keep a thing, however

qualities
"

Hath
and

set
naturally

the story continues

which, indeed,we
"

which
in

with

nattire

creature

the

chieflyreferred

;'*
passagfe, for

followingsweet
to it :

"

Take

any bird,and put him in a cage,

And do all thine intent,
and thy courage ;'
To foster it tenderly
with meat
and drink.
And with all dainties that thou canst bethink,
And keepit all so kindly as thou may ;
Although his cage of gold be never so gay,
Yet had this bird by twenty thousand
fold
Liever* to be in forest,
wild and cold,
Go eatingwormfes, and such wretchedness
:
For ever this bird will do his business
To, scape out of his cage, when that he may :
His liberty
the bird desireth aye."

is informed by the crow

of his wife's faithlessness in
Phoebus
his absence, and immediately kills her.
Remorse
seizes
now
believes
the
has
deceived
and
he
that
him.
crow
him,
unjustly
So, after bewailinghis loss with great grief and lamentation,
"

"

he turns

to the poor

crow;

"

said he,
O, falsfethief,
I will thee quit anon
thy fals" tale ;
"

Thou
as
any nightingale
sung whilom
;
Now
shalt thou, falsfethief,
thy song foregone,
And eke thy whitfe feathers every one.
^

A del is a bit

or

part.

'

Desire.

'

Rather.

TALES,

CANTERBURY

no

in all thy lifene shalt thou speak ;

Ne never
Thus shall men
on
a false thief be a-wreak.^
shall be black ;
and thine offspring
Thou
ever
Ne never
sweets nois^ shall ye make
;
But ever
cry againsttempdst and rain,
slain."
In token that throughthee my wife was

And

so

crows

became

able
ends this veritblack,and thus,in effect,

history.
the
the Manciple has in his hand
MS.
the Ellesmere
drunk ;
the Cook
bottle of wine with which he helped to make
red
lined
with
red
hose
and
cloak
a
he wears
red,
a blue
cap ;
and he has a red pxirse hanging on his girdle. He rides a dun
In

horse.
1

Avenged.

DOCTOR

THE

(from
**

the

In all this world

To
For
He

speakof
he
was

was

OF

MS.)

ELLESMERE

ne

there

physic,and
grounded

very

PHYSIC.

was

none

of surgery.

him
,

like,
.

in astronomy.

perfectpractisour."

J^a^ein.

MEN."

PROFESSIONAL

THE
SN
*

THE

DOCTOR

OF

DOCTOR

OF

PHYSIC,

iii

PHYSIC.

which the poet has given us of

the elaborate portrait
of the Canterbury pilgrimage,we have a
this member
of
striking
exemplification
in

the

the state of medical

science
and
of
the
century,
qualifications
in the profession.It is
of eminence

fourteenth

for the
requisite

attainment

said of this
-Doctor of physike,
In all this world ne was
him
there none
and of surgery ;
To speakof physic,
For he was
grounded in astronomy.
He kept his patient
wonderfullywell
In

hour^s,by

Well

could he

Of his

like

his

magic natural.
fortunl^the Ascendant

imiges,for

his

patient;"

rather understand
the two
must
astrology,
in the historyof science,
less confounded
down

By "astrononiy" we

\\

being

more

or

'

much
later periodthan that of Chaucer.
In astrology,
divided
into
twelve parts or houses ;
then, the heavens were
of twenty-four hours, all the
through which, in the course
endless
an
heavenly bodies passed ; and in which there was
the
bodies
contained
in
them
to
at any
as
diversity
particular
the
particulartime. Of these houses, the most
important was
of
the
heavens
the
called
about
to
first,
containing
portion
rise,
therefore the ascendant
the more
; of the bodies,the planetswere
which
man's
the
as
own
forming
home,
influential,
system to
the world, belonged. Each
planet had one house, of which he
to a

even

'

pre-eminently the lord. Now, if we attach to these twelve

houses the subjectswith which they were
presumed to have an
intimate connexion, as, life with the first,
riches with the second,
brethren and parents with the third and fourth,and so on ; and
if,at the same
time,we attribute to the planetscertain essential
to
influences,
o
r
as
war
Mars, and love to Venus, we
qualities
was

have

the principal
materials from which the science
built up.
esteemed
of
The
long
Astrology, was
applicationof the science may be thus brieflyillustrated. Was
it desired to know
a child's future destiny? The
aspect of the
heavens
noted by the astroat the very instant of his birth was
loger,
as

it

before

us

"

was

and

"

the result

longor short,poor

or

predicted,as to whether his life should be

rich,in accordance with the favourable or
^Make

fortunate,

CANTERBURY

XI2

TALES.

influences of the heavenly

conjunctions,
powers, and
bodies that, at the point of time in question,
ruled the
respectivehouses of life and of wealth.
of the middle ages were
But the bold men
not, it seems, content
with the knowledge of the lore of the stars, but they must
terfere,
inand, to a certain extent, guide them, in their rule over
to the aid of
temporal affairs. The natural Magicians came
and when
the Astrologers,
not
were
things
going exactlyright,
and put them in a better track ; at least
why, they could interfere,
unfevourable

'

uu^y

professedto believe ; and Chaucer's Doctor

number.
the
of
! when
of Physic was
he saw
He, clever man
"
"
bad
houres
occurringin connexion with times
any danger of
for taking medicine, for performingoperations,
or with peculiar
crises of his patients'
diseases,could prevent it by his " magic
natural ;" of which
Speght gives us the followinginformation
of proceeding. It was
done
to the mode
as
by " making of
or characters
stamped in metal in their due times,fitted
vigils,
the malady was
to that part of the body where
; as the stamp
"
of Aries for the diseases in the head, and of Leo for the reins,
And
that natural magic
etc.
certainlywe need not wonder
could do thus much, or, in short, that it could do anything,
find in other parts of
Ihowever apparentlyimpossible,
when
we
marvellous
feats
w
hat
Chaucer's
were
writings,
performed by
Sir John Mandeville's
read
of the
we
account
it,or when
they believed,

so

"

or

exhibition that took

placebefore

the

"

Crete

Chan,*'in the

same

century.
then

"And
marvels
moon,

for

jugglersand

come

they

make

by seeming,to

to

every

night so dark, that no

they make the day to come
the

come

man's

enchanters, that do

many
in the air the sun
and the
sight. And after,
they make

see
no
thing. And after,
may
with bright
again,fair and pleasant,
And
then
man's
in
to
dances, of
they
sight.
bring
sun,
every
the fairest damsels of the world and richest arrayed. And after,
in other damsels, bringingcups of gold, full
they make to come
of milk of divers beasts, and give drink to lords and to ladies.
fiilllustily
And
then they make
knightsto joustin arms
; and
and
at
together
they fight together
they run
great random,
man

and they break

their spears
fuU fiercely,
so
rudely, that the
and
in
all
about
the hall.
And
truncheons
splints
fly
pieces
in
for
make
the
hart
and
for
the
then they
to come
hunting
boar,
with hounds
And
other things
running with open mouth.
many
they do by craft of their enchantments, that it is marvellous
for to see.
up of the
*

And
such
boards."^

Or, in

other

plays of disportthey make,

It should

seem,

that

of
words, until the clearing

the
the

tillthe

taking

jugglersand
tables,

PROFESSIONAL

MRN."TH"

DOCTOR

OF

PHVSlC,

\\%

of Chaucer's
enchanters, or as they were
called," tregetours,"
the
day in England, are rivalled in our
own
by
Egyptian
Mr.
magicians,of whom
Lane, in his work on Egypt, relates
such

marvels

; and

of which in connexion with other countries

from time to time hearing.
we
are
The
art of medicine,if art it might be called at this period
in EngTand, was
borrowed
from
ancient. Greece ; with such
have been made
in it by tITe~Arabs,
translated the principal
Grecian writers into their language,
became during the seventh and five followingcenturies the
in the world.
eminent practitioners
As an evidence of their
most
it
observed
the Fat, kingof
be
that
Sancho
great reputation, may
Leon, went in person, in 956, to Cordova, the then great capital
of Moorish
Spain,to be cured of an illness. Not long before
Chaucer's
time, the works of the principalGreek and Arabic
writers,having been translated into Latin,found their way into
this country, and so formed
the basis of that art which
now
in which it was
(clearedof the superstitions
formerly embedded)
stands pre-eminently
forward as one
of the greatest blessingsof
civilization. About
the period of the * Canterbury Tales,'these
existed in full vigour. A physicianwho
was
no
superstitions
would then have been looked upon, probably,as we
astronomer
look upon a quack ; ignorance,in both cases, of the knowledge
indispensableto the successful cultivation of the art being
Thus
find that
Evesham
de
we
(of
presumed.
Hugo
universities
who
studied
both
the
not
at
Worcestershire),
only
of England, but subsequentlyat those of France
and Italyalso,
and who became
the most
of
his
famous
day he too,
physician
find it recorded, was
we
scarcely less distinguishedfor his
mathematics
and astronomy.
Again, his great contemporary
Roger Bacon, far-sightedand singularly
unprejudicedto existing
*
he
in
his
as
remarks,
opinions
Opus Major,'that astronomy
was,
Charles
is the better part of medicine,
V. of France, who
directed his every movement
by the advice of his astrologers,
established a collegeof medicine
and astrologyin the university
of Paris,
In the continuation of the * Canterbury Tales,'before
referred to, tmder the title of the * Tale of Beryn,'we
find a
the
assistance
of
the
on
surgicaloperation
eyes performed by

only as
Irnprovements

may

who
and

"

the occult
"

1. 3723-6, p.
sciences,

iii, ed. Furnivall

But untill wele the whole science of al

surgery^
Was unydji or the chaungewas
made of both his eye'
With many
sotillenchantours
and eke negrymauncers
That sent were
for the nonis,^maistris and scoleris."

United.

Eyes,

\ Nonce"

occasion.

CANTERBURY

114

TALES.

obsei've that Persia,even

to this day,abounds
with physiciansand astrologers
; and a Persian rarelyfollows
from
of the one class,
without firstascertaining
the prescriptions
the other,that the constellations are favourable to the proposed

Lastly,we

may

remedy.
Not

with these

content

peculiarmodes

of

healing,borrowed

of the East,our English forefathers added

from the superstitions
views.
others of their own, derived from their religious
Thus,
carried
relics formed
and
Materia
Medica
were
a part of the
;
Hairs of
about
for exhibition to the sick on payment
of a fee.
Matthew
saint's
in
head
mentioned
a
by
dipped holy water, are
Paris.
A ring that had belonged to Remigius, being dipped
in holy water, furnished,it is said,a drink good for fever and
other diseases.
Yet we
must
not
suppose, after all,that our
and
ancient physicians
relied on the virtue of these astrological
medical
substantial
the
of
to
saintlyinfluences,
more
neglect

knowledge

or

being

besides

"

skill. Chaucer's
so

well

"

for
Doctor of Physic,'
in
grounded
astronomy,''

instance,

"

Knew
the cause
of every malady,
Were it of cold or hot,or moist or dry,
And
and of what humot^
where engendered,
:
He was
a very
perfectpractisour.
The cause
yknown, and of his harm the root,
Anon
he gave the sickfeman
his boot.^
Full ready had he his apothecaries
To send nim druggfes,
and his lectuaries ;
For each of them made
other for to win :
"

Their

was
friendship

not

newfe to

begin."

Freind, in his 'History of Physic,' gives still more

effect. He says, " Though we
jemphatic testimonyto the same
Dr.

'

find the

people of that

age

had

great faith in charms

and

other

carried on
was
empiricalapplications,yet the general practise
in
delivered
down
chiefly the rational way, as it had been
from
from

the Greeks."
This
subject receives further illustration
the
Chaucer
description
gives us of the doctor's

library;

"

**

Well knew

he the olde uCsculapius,

eke Ruf6s ;
and
H
ali,
Gallien,
Hippocras,
Serapion,Rhazes, and Avicen,
Averroes,Damascene, and Constantine,
Bernard,and Gatisden,and Gilbertine."
And
Old

and
Dioscorides,

Remedy.

PROFESSION
Of

these

At

authors, the

Galen, and Dioscorides

DOCTOk

MEN"THE

names

of

OP

PHYSIC,

iij

iEsculapius,Hippocrates,

well known
to need any comment
here ; but a few words on the others may
not be unacceptable.
Rufus, a physician of Ephesus, about the time of Trajan,wrote
various medical works in Greek,of which only a portionremains ;
valuable
a
portion,however, since it shows us the state of
anatomical
We'
learn
knowledge before the time of Galen.
from
it,for instance,that all anatomical demonstrations
were
"
for
made
beasts
Choose
the
an
ran
dissection,*
ape
upon
"
directions to a student in those days, if you have one
; if not,
if you
have not a bear, take any animal
take a bear ; and
Arabian
a famous
astronomer, and a
you can get." Hali was
commentator
on
Galen, in the eleventh century, which produced
Arabic
eminent
the rest, John
physicians; among
many
of the
eminent
number.
Serapion, and Avicen, the most
of
three
There, were, however,
Alexandria,in
Serapions: one
the third century before Christ,who
wrote
vehemently against
studied
and
the
of all
nature
Hippocrates,
deeply
are

"Baleful weeds

too

and

flowers;**
precious-juiced

of Syria, about the

tenth century, called Serapion
Senior, who collected and abridged the opinionsof the Greek
medical philosophers
and Arabian
enough,
; and who, curiously
and
curative solely by medicine
of diseases as
treats
diet,
termed
and
is
what
omitting operativesurgery,
hygiene ; and
thirdly,
SerapionJunior (theJohn Serapion of Dr. Freind) ; an
who
has left us one of the most
and, in his own
important,
Arab,
of
Arabic medical books : this was
time, one of the most useful
of
Chaucer.
the
Some
amusing examples
probably
Serapion
be
culled
from
might
John Serapion'sworks, of the mixture of
learned
at
that was
once
ignorance and credulitywith much
the
in
like
excellent.
he
and
sea
"Amber,'*
says, "grows
In China
land.
mushrooms
there are some
solely
on
persons
That
which
floats
this
in
for
substance.
on
fishing
engaged
its
and
death.
the sea is swallowed
quicklycauses
by the whale,
is found
When
the animal's body is opened, the best amber
the vertebral column, and the worst in the stomach.'*
We
near
fishermen
of
advise our
Greenland
would
to be too sure
not
when
and
it
in
either
catch
a whale,
finding
they next
place,
look for the preciouscommodity.
Avicen, as Chaucer has it,
Ben
Abdallah
but Al-Sheikh
Ben
Al-Rayis Abu Ali Al-Hossein
of medical
Sina, as it should be, is one of the great names
the
tenth
and
eleventh
centuries
a
nd
to
literature,
belongs
is of startlinglength ;
The listof his writings,like his name,
and
book
a
on
previouswork^
one
a
alone,
commentary
another

1 16

tAMTERB

Uk

TALE^.

His * K^W
became
extended
the standard
to twenty volumes.
it seems,
for
medical
authority throughout Europe ; chiefly,
all
view of
that was
its clear and comprehensive
previously
known
the subject. Avicenna
on
(as he is popularlycalled)
but a statesman,
not
was
only a physicianand a philosopher,
having acted as vizier to the sovereign of the town of Hamadan
at one
period,and at another and earlier having been minister
Arabian
to the Sultan of Bokhara.
Rhazes, of Razes, was
an
in
w
ho
the
tenth
physician,
practisedat Bagdad
century, and
and called the Galen
The amount
esteemed
of his time.
was
belief ; there being upwards of
of his writingsalmost surpasses
hundred
distinct works
He was
attributed to him.
two
a great
his
affords
and
incident
of
idea
travels
one
a striking
traveller,
of his practical
ability.Passingthrough the streets of Cordova,
in Spain,he saw
crowd
the body of a man
collected round
a
who was
said to have fallen dead justbefore.
caused
Rhazes
with rods,particularly
him to be beaten all over
the
of
soles
on
his feet,and so, within a few minutes, restored him to life. He
blind in his latter days, and was
about to have an operation
was
performed; but findingthat the surgeon could not tellhow many
membranes
the eye contained,he declined.
It was
urged that
the operation
might nevertheless succeed ; but Rhazes answered
with profound melancholy," I have seen
of the world,
so much
wearied of it." Averroes
that I am
belonged to the twelfth and
He
born
thirteenth centuries.
at
was
Cordova, where he
imbibed
all the learningof the Arabian
teachers of the day,
his father as Mufti of Andalusia.
and subsequentlysucceeded
of Aristotle,
works
he transHe
whose
was
a great admirer
lated.
the Asiatic schools decayed, those of Africa and
As
the chief teachers of the
Spain began to flourish ; and among
latter was
Averroes.
Damascene
was
John
secretary to one of
the caliphs; he wrote
various sciences before the Arabians
on
had entered Europe, and had seen
the Grecian
philosophers.
He
famous
for his religious
than his
however, more
was,
medical
writings; and obtained for his eloquence the name
of the Golden-flowing.
Constantinus
of
of Cassino in Italjr,
was
one
Afer, a monk
medicine
the Saracen
into
who
physicians
brought
Europe,
and formed
the Salernitan school (the firstof the kind established
in Europe),chieflyby translatingvarious Arabian
and
Grecian medical books into Latin.
His history is peculiarly
He
bom
at
was
interesting.
Carthage, and learned grammar,
logic,geometry, arithmetic,astronomy, and natural philosophy
of the Chaldees, Arabians, Persians, Saracens, Egyptians,and
Indians,in the schools of Bagdad. Being completely accomplished
in these sciences,after thirty-nine
of
study he
years
-

PROFESSIONAL
returned
his life.

MMM,"

THE

DOCTOR

OF

PHYSIC,

ttj

into

formed
Africa, where an attempt was
against
discovered the design,
Constantine,having fortunately
in Italy,where
he
to Salerno
privately took ship,and came
lurked for some
time in disguise. But he was
recognised by
the Caliph's
brother,then at Salerno ; who recommended
him,
skilled in the learningof all nations,to
as
a scholar universally
the notice of Robert, duke of No'-mandy. Robert
entertained
him
with the highestmarks
of respect ; and Constantine,by
the advice

of his patron, retired

the monastery
of Cassino ;
where, being kindly received by the Abbot
Desiderius,he
translated,in that learned society,the books above mentioned,
of which he first imported into Europe.
versions
most
These
said to be stillextant.
He
flourished about the year 1086.
are
Bernard
Gordonius
Bemardus
been
to have
or
appears
Chaucer's
He
Professor of Medicine
was
a
contemporary.
and wrote many
treatises on the art.
at Montpelier,
fellow of Merton
was
a
John Gatisden
College, in the
of
the
Dr.
about
Freind gives an
University Oxford,
year 1320.
of him.
He
the author of a famous
account
was
interesting
medical
work
called *Rosa
Anglica'; and though, to confess
the truth,he was
not much
better than an empiric,
yet he seems
of the best in that way,
been one
and managed
his
to have
his
He
affairs with great address.
from
own
was, as it appears
writings,ingeniousenough to see through the foibles of human
far mankind
could
nature
; he could form a good judgment how
failed to make
his advantage of
be imposed upon ; and never
their credulity.He is very artful in layingbaits for the delicate,
for the rich. For the former he has such a tenderness,
for the ladies,
that he condescends
in
to instruct them
even
perfumes
and washes, especially
how
such a
to dye their hair; and
he
is
the
invent
for
t
hat
to
some
latter,
always studying
respect
He
for them.
select and dearest medicines
of the most
was
also a poet. Scarce a page of his works, but he quotes the
the firstEnglishHe was
of others or inserts his own.
man
verses
a
nd
had
of the
the
care
at
court
as
a
physician,
employed
the
Edward
in
either
Edward
I. or
II.)
king's son (a son of
small-pox. Here he played his game very well : to show his
skill in inflammatory disorders,
he, with a proper formalityand
of much
countenance
importance,ordered the patientto be
in
a
nd
scarlet,
everythingabout the bed to be red ; no
wrapped
doubt the room
manner.
was
This, he says,
hung in the same
him recover, without so much
mark upon
made
as leaving one
scrofulous case
does not submit to the
the face. Whenever
a
such
the
blood
of a weasel or dovesas
remedies,
sovereign
dung, he exhorts the person immediately to applyto the king
He acquaintsus with his great skill in
for the royaltouch.
to

"

CANTERB

18

UR

TALES,

design,if God would give him life and

to write a treatise of chiromancy,or fortune-telling.
leisure,
"
Gilbertine,I suppose,"says Warton, "is Gilbertus Anglicus,
who
flourished in the thirteenth century, and wrote
a popular
who
his
the
and
firstof
of
the
was
countrymen
compendium
art,
enjoyed any repute in that way."
physiognomy

; and

did

the
distinctions of the three regular orders into which
known
Chaucer's
time
also
in
is now
divided,were
;
profession
as
we
perceivefrom the preceding passages, where it is stated
like his doctor in the world,to speak of
that there were
none
\physicor oi surgery and that he had his apothecaries
full ready
The

send

to

him

his

drugs.

by an English surgeon of Chaucer's age, John Ardem,

French
to the purpose,
a
are
preserved ; and what is more
writer,Guy de Cauliac,of the same
period,shows us the actual
"
he
of
state
:
Practitioners," states, " are divided into
surgery
five sects.
first follow Roger and Roland, and the four
The
and abscesses
and
to all wounds
apply poultices
; the
masters,
second
follow Brunus
and Theodoric, and in the' same
cases
wine
third
and
follow
wSaliceto
the
use
Lanfranc, and
only ;
with ointment
soft plasters; the fourth are
and
treat wounds
attend
the
who
armies,and promiscuously use
chieflyGermans,
and
charms, potions,oil,and wool ; the fifth are old women
cases."
who
saints
in
all
have
the
to
recourse
ignorantpeople,
Of the apothecaries,the poet says all that is requisite.We
see
then
doctors
it was
it
remains
the
a
as to
large extent
yet
;
found employment for the drugs, and the drugs in return made
ample employment for the doctors. Chaucer says of the physicians
and the apothecaries:
Works

"

"

Their

was
friendship

notnewfe

to

begin :"

is littlepromise of their friendship

coming
The
that degrees were
end.
doctor's title shows
to an
granted
That of Bachelor
in medical education.
thus early to proficients
in
of Physic appears to have been
conferred
Oxford
after
soon
and

the

there
certainly

Conquest.

little before,
attended
by
and
circumstance.
When
of the monks
of
one
pomp
St. Peter's monastery, Gloucester,took the degree of Doctor
of
in
he
in
his
Divinity
was
1298,
accompanied
procession by
abbot and all his brethren, the abbots of Westminster, Reading,
other priors
Malmesbury, Evesham, and Abingdon, numerous
mounted
hundred
and monks, and
a
gentlemen and esquires,
with their horses all richlycaparisoned. Physicians were
not
The

and
much

grant

probably

of the
also

high degree of Doctor, a

during Chaucer's time, was

THE

MEN"

PROFESSIONAL

DOCTOR

OF

PHYSIC.

119

circumstance
until 145 1
a
perhaps to be
explained by the fact,that up to about the twelfth century they
or ecclesiastics.
were
generallymonks
is occupied with those
ofChaucer's
The remainder
description
as well as the class,
personal traits which exhibit the individual,
so
vividly,that itis impossibleto avoid coming to the conclusion
to a certain
that Chaucer, like all other great painters,drew
allowed

to

marry

"

"
from the life. Could that sly bit of satire, his study was
but littlein the Bible,"have crept into the placeit occupies,but
the habits
that ^^faci caught the poet'seye as he glanced over
stood before
of Physic,who
of the living Doctor
and person
awaited
l^im?
him, unsuspiciousof the immortalitythat

extent

"

Of his di^t measiirable was

he,
of no superfluity,
For it was
and digestible.
But of great nourishing,
but littleon the Bible.
His study was
In sanguine and in perse he clad was
all,
and eke senddl^ ;
Linfed with taffeta,
but
And
easy in dispence;
yet he was
in pestilence^
:
that he won
He keptfe
For goldin physicis a cordial ;

Therefore

he lovfed

gold in special."

by our knowledge of
The wit of this last couplet is enhanced
The great
is
founded.
it
which
notion
on
the literal truth of the
philosopher before mentioned. Bacon, givesbroad hints in his
of Old Age,'about a tincture of gold
work * On the Accidents
which might contribute greatlyto prolong life ; and he recites a
ing
of an old Sicilian ploughman, who, by drinkremarkable
story

(which our author suspects

greedilyof a yellowish stream
was
impregnated with gold),grew young again,and lived many
years in full vigour.
"
"
is illustrated in the
The
dress of
sanguine ^ and
perse
a
of brightpurple^ and
EUesmere
manuscript by a surcoat
the
down
low
and
the
blue hood, covering
upon
extending
head,
also of
His
are
white.
with
stockings
furred
shoulders,deeply
bright purple. The doctor is here represented as pondering
urine in a large phial.
a patient's
over
"

want

thin silk.

continuallyrecurringin early days, owing

and proper food.
cleanliness,
v
drainage,entilation,

Plagues
of

were

to

the

UR

CANTERB

1 20

TALES.

ALCHEMIST.

THE

their way towards

pursue
overtaken
by two persons, one

|;sthe travellers

they

are

Canterbury,
evidently the

cites
of the other,whose
appearance exHe was
dressed,
some
surpriseand speculation.
person,
says Chaucer,stillspeaking in his own

yeoman

or

servant

In clothes black,
that he had a white surplice.
hackeney,that was a pomelee gris,^
sweated,that it wondrous was to see.
"

And
His
So

under

"

"

"

About the peytrelstood the foam full high,

He was of foam as fleck^ as a pie.
A mail^ twofold^ on his crupper lay,'
that he carried littlearray ;
It seem^
All

worthy man.
hearts,wondering I began

for summer
light

rode this

in mine
"What that he was, tillthat I understood
sewed unto his hood
How
that his cloak was
I had long advised me,
For which when
Canon
for to be.
I deemed
him some
His hat hung at his back down by a lace.
than trot or pace ;
For he had ridden more
like as he were
wood.'
He had aye prickfed
A clotfe-leaf*he hadde undfer his hood

And,

For sweat, and for to keep his head from heat.

But it was
joy^ for to see him sweat ;
His forehead dropped as a stillat6ry*
Were full of plaintain,
or of paritory*
;
he 'gan to cry
And when that he was
come,
God save, quoth he, this jollycompany,"

The Canon
(forsuch he is)explainsthat he has been ridingfast
in order to overtake
the pilgrims. The
Host, thinking of his
lavourite scheme, at once
endeavours
another
to secure
story,
and
if his master
tell a merry
inquiresof the Yeoman
can
The
seemed
Yeoman
one.
surprisedat the question ; that is
but a trifle to what
his master
do.
can
Well, but what is he,
1
"
'

^ A
Or dappled grey.
double mail or portmanteau.
* A leaf of the bur-dock.
" Still.
Mad.
The herb now
known
of the wall.
as pellitory

T.HE

CANON'S

(from

Pd^e

20.]

the

YEOMAN.
ELLESMERE

MS.)

PROFESSIONAL

MEN,-^THE

demands

the Host ?
repliesthe Yeoman,^
"

"

clerk ? "

ALCHEMIST,

121

Nay, he is greater than that,

I say,
my lord can* such a subtilty,
fBut all his craft ye may not weet of me,
And somewhat help I yet to his working),
That all this ground on which we be riding,
Till that we come
to Canterburytown,
He could all cleans tumen
up so down,^
And

pave

it all of silver and

of

gold.'*

for anybody but Harry Bailly,

who has
and
of humbug,
a
so begins to inquire
in his own
satiricalfashion,why the Canon
wears
so bad a coat.
is fain to acknowledge in answer,
The Yeoman
that he believes
his master
is ^Uoo wise in faith,"and somehow
misuses
his
"
"
wit.
his
The
Host, continuing
searchingqueries,
over-great
discoloured
demands
the cause
of the Yeoman's
face, and the
his
is
truth comes
last
master
out
at
an
alchemist,and he
;
his fires. And
the Yeoman"
blows
the Yeoman
now
having
found how littlehis put-on dignityavails,
begins to give vent to
and the multiplying art.
his real opinionsof his master
The
and
bids
the
Yeoman
comes
Canon, growing suspicious,
near,
be quiet; but the command
is too late ; the Host's evident contempt

might do all very well

thorough English hatred

This

"

the more
the Yeoman
eloquentand diffuse in
deserves it ; and so, while the poor
master
and
thus
shame, makes off,the Yeoman
sorrow

only makes
showing how his
Canon, for

very

relates his story :

"

"

With this Can6n

I dwelled have seven
year,
And of his science am
the near
I never
f
All that I had, I have ylostthereby;
And God wot, so hath many
than I.
more
There I was wont to be rightfresh and gay

Of

and
clothing,

of other

good

array.
mine head.
both fresh and red,
And where my colour was
it is wan, and of a leaden hue :
Now
(Whoso it useth,sorfe shall he rue).
And of my swink* yet blindfed is mine eye :
Lo, such advantageitis to multiply\^
science hath mad^ me
That sliding
so bare
Now

may

That

I have

And

yet I

Knows.

"

Nigh-er,
Try to turn

nearer.

I wear

am

no

hose upon

good, where that ever

so thereby

I fare ;

indebted

Or,

Labour.

as

other metals into

we

gold

should

say, turn

upsidedown.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

122

Of gold,that I have borrow'd tniely,

That while 1 live,shall I it quittennever."

Passing from
the

his own
(towhich, however,
folly,
of heart, frequentlyreturns,)he
insightinto the mysteriesof alchemy :

this lament over

in very fulness

Yeoman,

givesthe pilgrimsan

"

When
be there,as we should exercise
we
wise :
wondrous
Our elvish^ craft,we seemen
Our termfes be so clergial^
and quaint.
I blow the fire tillthat mine heartfe faint.
What
should I tellen each proportion
Of thingswhich that we worken
up and down,

*'

As
Of

five or six ounces,

may

well be

other quantity
?
silver,
or some
And busy me
to tellen you the names,
As orpiment,'burnt bonfes,iron squaraes,*
That into powder grounden be full small ?

And

in an earthen
pot how put is all.
And salt yput in, and also pepp^re,
Before these powders that I speak of here,
And well ycovered with a lamp of glass?
other thing which that there was
And
of much

j
?"

And of the pots and glasses^ngluting,*

That of the air might passen out no thing?
And of the easy fire,and smart
also.
that was
Which
made ? and of the care and
That we had in our
matters
stibliming.

'

woe

And in amalgaming,and calcining

Of quicksilver,
yclep'dmerctiry crude ?
not
conclude.
For all our sleightfes
we
can
There
That

is also full many

is unto

another thing
appertaining,

craft

our

Though I,by order,them not rehearsen can,

Because that I am
a lewfed^ man
;
to mind,
Yet will I tell them, as they come
in their kind ;
set them
Though I ne cannot
As

And

bole armeniac, verdigrease,

boris,

sundry vessels
and

made

of earth and

glass,

descdnsories^

our

and sublimitories,
Vials,croslets,*
and
Cucurbitfes,' dlembfkfes eke.

And
^
^

Mischievous.

Luting,

or

other
^

dear enough
suchfe,

Learned.

coatingwith

The

clay.

leek,^"

of arsenic.
tri-sulphide
*

Scales.

Ignorant.

A vessel for the extraction of oilper cUscensum,

"
8 Crucibles.
Gourd-shaped vessels.
^" That is to
for
of
such small value.
dear
enough
things
say
"*

PROFESSIONAL
Nor

MEN.^THE

ALCHEMIST,

123

needeth

it for to rehearse them all ?

and buUfes ^all,
rubifying,
sal ammoniac, and brimst6ne ;
Arsenic,
And herb^s
could I tell" eke many
one,
As agremon*, valerian,
and lundry,
And other such,if that me
list to tarry ;
Our lamp"s burningboth^ nightand day
To bringabout our craft if that we
may ;
Our furnace eke of calcination,

Waters

"

And

of waters

albification.

Unslackfed limfe,
chalk,and glaireof ty}
Powders diverse,
and clay,
ashes,
,

and vitriole,
sal-petre,
,
;
And
divers firfesmade of wood
and coal,
Sal tartar,alkali,
and salt preparit.
And

combust' matters,and coagulate;

Clay made with horse or mannes
hair,and

Of tartar,
alum,

oil

barm, wort, and argoile.^

glass,

all this confusion

of the substances
for and the
the
Yeoman
obtained
of
has
transmutation,
an
means
inkling
and
to which
of the influences and powers
they are subsidiary,
relies
Alchemist
which
the
for
more
success.
especially
upon
tells the pilgrimsof " the foure Spirits,"
and
So the Yeoman

amidst

But

"

of the bodies
"

seven

: ""

The firstspirit
quicksilver
clepfed
is,
The second orpiment; the third iwis
Sal ammoniac, and the fourth brimstdne.
The bodies seven, eke, lo ! them hear anon
Sol gold is,and Lund silver we threpe,'

Mars iron,Mercury quicksilver

we
clepe*
Saturnus lead,and Jupiteris tin,
"
And Venus
copper, by my father kin.

cursed craft '* only beggars all concerned.

In the
of
his
the
Yeoman
calls
bitterness
reflections,
upon allthose who
and learn the multiplying
desire to publishtheir folly,
to come
to turn alchemists
art ; all those who have aught in their coffers,
;
and, in so doing, there is no doubt but they will,in one
wax
philosophers. The constant
disappointment
way at least,
of the chief objectis,however, not the only trouble of the Yeoman
blamed
often
for
the
failure.
ke
Having explained
gets
;
the

But

"

that,
1

Egg.

Not

lees

or

like

unto

Fr. argilUypotter's
the
clay,but " Tartre : m. Tartar or Argall,
the
sides
wine-vessels
that
sticke
of
hard
and
drie
to
:
dregs
beat
it
crust, sound, and so close compacted,that you
may

powder."

1611, Cotgrave.
"Name.

*CalL

CANTERBURY

144
"

TALES.

Ere that the pot be on the fire ydone

Of metals with a certain quantity,
My lord them tempereth and no man but he ; "

adds, but

he

"

fulloft it happethso,

The pot to-breaketh,and farewell ! all is go.

These metals be of so great violence,
Our walUs may not make them resistance,
But ifthey werfe wrought of lime and stone ;
that through the wall they gone,
And some
of them sinkdn into the ground :
Then have we lost by timfes many
a pound.
And some
scattered all thd floor about ;
are
Some
leapeninto the roof withouten doubt.
Though that the fiend not in our sighthim shew,
I trow that he be with us, thilkfeshrew !
In hellfe,
where that he is lord and sire,

They piercenso,

"

Ne is there
that
When

no

more

pot

our

wo, rancour, ne ire.

is broke, as I have said,

and hold him evil apaid:*

chit,^
it
Some
said, was 'longon^ the fire making ;
Some
saidfe,Nay, it was on the blowing ;
for that was
mine office)
(Then was I 'fear'd,
Straw, quoth the third, Ye be lew^d and nice,*
be.'
not temperedas it oughtfe
It was
the
and
stint
hearken me ;
fourthe,
Nay, quoth
of beech,
not made
Because our fir^ was

Every

man

'

This is the cause, and other none, so the iche.'

it was
I cannot tell whereon
along,
But well I wot, great strifeis us among.'
*
What ? ' quoth my lord, * There n'is no more
to doon.
I will beware eftsoon ;
Of these perils
that the pot was
erased.'
I am
rightsiker,^
be
Be as be may,
ye no thing amazed.
As usage is,let sweep the floor as swithe,^
and be glad and blithe.'"
Pluck up your hearths,

notwithstandingall this care to amend

that when they
found amiss, notwithstanding

what

But

"

Every

man

seemeth

Solomon

are

has

been

together

;"

they discover in the end the profound truth of the proverb

"

**

But

all thing which

that shineth

Is not

gold.

Treated

Chideth.

Lewed and nice^ignorantand foolish.

^
So may I succeed.
Sure.

as

the

gold,

'

ilL

^Longon^ along of,occasioned by.

'

Broken.

Quickly.

PROFESSIONAL

MEN.^THE

ALCHEMIST,

125

idea of the admirable

and
may give some
has
of
the alchemist of his
given us
complete pictureChaucer
who
the
men
day,
These

passages

"

"

Where
that ever
they gona
Men
by smellfe of brimst6ne.
may them know
For all the world they stinken as a goat.
"

CANTERBURY

126

THE

"

CLERK

unto

OF

OXENFORD

of Oxenford also,
haddfe
y%o?
logic
lonj^

clerk there

That

TALES.

was

his horse as is a rake,

As lean^ was
And he was
not rightfat,I undertake
;
But lookfed hollow and thereto soberly.
his overest courtepy f
Full threadbare was
He had not getten him yet a beneffce :
He was
noughtworldlyto have an office.
liever have at his bed's head
For him was
in black and red
A twenty book^s cl"?th'd
Of Aristotle and his philosophy,
Than
robfes rich,or fiddle,
or
psaltry.
But although that he were
a philosopher,
Yet haddfe he but littlegold in coffer,*
But all that he might ^"tt^and friendes sent
On book^s,and his leaniine he it spent ;

busily *ganfor the soulfes pray

them
that gave him wherewith
to scholay.
Of
Of study took he most6 care and heed.
need ;
Not a word spake he mor^ than was
of high prudence,.
All that he spake,it was
And short and quick,and full of great sentence ;
Sounding in moral virtue was his speech ;
And gladlywould he learn,and gladlyteach."
And

character has much

interesting

in common
with
*'
who
of
has
tihe poore parson
a town
engaged our
attention,
although the poet, with true dramatic skill,
distinct from each other ; not only as
has kept them perfectly
classes to which they belong,but as
\ examples of the respective
their
individual characteristics.
respective
; realpersonages,havmg
actuate
The same
both, assuming in
loftyfeelingsand principles
and
in the other an
instance a deeplyreligious
the one
cast,
learned
tone
: both are
equallypowerfulmoral and philosophical
and
remain
both
both
whilst
the one
to
so
men
willing
poor,
;
;
can
enjoy the societyof his books, and the other advance the
prosperityof his flock. Their differences are no less
spiritual
The entire heart and mind
noticeable and instructive.
of him
HIS

very
"

Oxford.
This alludes, we
philosophy,which
*

found apart.

presume,
was

'

Gone.

short upper

to the connexion

formerlyso

between

close that the two

cloak.

alchemy ahd
were

seldom

THE

(from
*'

Page 126.]

And

the

gladly would

CLERK.
ELLESMERE

he

learn, and

MS.)
gladly teach.'*

MEN

PROFESSIONAL

"THE

OF

CLERK

OXENFORD,

127

who, apart from the sacred writings,presents the most perfect

specimen of a Christian pastor that we possess, or that the
can
conceive,is occupied by the care of his
imaginationof man
flock ; the Clerk's moralityand philosophyby no means
produce
an

equal abnegationof
"

Of

self"

sUidytook

he mostfe

and heed

care

"

the firstlives wholly for others ; the second, inferior only to him,
spends no inconsiderable portionof his time and energies on
in so doing, how
Yet even
himself.
utterlydivested is he of any
of a selfish kind 1 Though
the " poore
sentiment
parson's" I
philosophymay be the nobler, yet stillhow noble is the Clerk's ! 1
God
has implanted in him, he
of the high capacities
Aware
thinks it but his duty, as it is his pleasure,to develop them to
time both these influences impel
the utmost
; and at the same
whatever
of value his studies
him to impart to his fellow-men
have

Chaucer, in

the

"

he learn,** says
Gladly would
exquisite concluding line of the description,

bequeathed

to

him.

'

"

and gladly teach."

This noblest
of scholars was
not alone in his love of learning
sake ; or in his determination
to gratifyhis love at
for its own
There
such scholars,
have
been
cost.
must
many
any worldly
of teachers,
in the hands
when
education was
like the Rector
of the Faculty of Arts in the most
and Masters
distinguished
Paris ; who, in 1362, petitionedfor
of European universities,
of the hearing of a case
in which they were
the postponement
interested,on the ground of the difficulty
they experienced to
find money

to pay the
to employ

procurators

and

advocates

it was

whom

it was
to possess
they whose profession
necessary
similar
wealth.
That
in
the
a
no
English
spirit prevailed
universities at the same
time, Chaucer's character of the Clerk
almost be considered to prove.
of Oxford may
of a very extraordinarykind
in
There
two
are
passages
and
the clerk,by Warton, which
relation to the parson
show
but too clearly,
how littlethe historian of poetry could sympathise
of
with
the highest class of poetical creations.
He
says
"
of
Chaucer's description the first,
that he shows in it his good
heart
and
there
ends his commendation
and
;"
:
sense
good
whilst of the second, in reference to these noble lines
"

"

"

word

spake he

raorfe than

All that he

spake,it

of

Not
And

short and

was

quick,and

was

need ;

high prudence,
great sentence,"

full of

"

Clerk's unwearied
attention to logichad tinctured
his conversation with much
pedanticformality,and taught him
he

writes,"The

128

not

/,
'

TALES,

in a preciseand sententious style." Is

all subjects
fair specimen
of what Swift calls the " art of sinking "
Godwin
in poetry ? How
has read the lines,
differently
may
of the
be inferred from the fact that he adduces
them
one
as
proofsof a very interestingtheory; namely, that Chaucer,
his own
the person of the Clerk,described
mental characm
teristics.
We
need hardly say that Godwin, in applyingthese lines to
the poet, did not intend to call him
formal
a
pedant The
to be passed
theory to which we have alluded,is too interesting
without examination.
over
Chaucer, as we have before stated,
is himself
of the pilgrimswho
one
are
journeying towards
Canterbury. As he describes all his companions their persons,
^he could scarcely avoid, without
habits,minds
affectation,
allusions to himself.
the
some
Most
happily he gets over
After the Prioress has told her tale,the Host looks
difficulty.
about him to see who
his eye falls on
shall tell the next, when
whom
addresses:
he
thus
Chaucer,

to

CANTERBURY

speak on
this

"

"

"

What

art thou ? quod he ;

man
thou wouldest find a hare,
For ever
upon the ground I see thee stare.
Approach^ near, and look up merrily.
"

Thou

lookest

as

and let this man

'ware you, sirs,
have
He in the waist is shapen as well as I :
This were
to embrace
a poppet in an
arme
For any woman,
small,and fair of face.
He seemeth elvish by his countenance,
For unto no wight doth he dalliance."

Now,

The

'"'"" /'^.

kUm.

'M^i^
..^c^

"

-ji.a"
'

'

'^

"*

.*".*

^ r^^

**

(
'

'^

place

poet, however, has here

described his personal features

in
but
the
Clerk
of
Oxford,
we
believe,and that
only;
belief is sanctioned
by Godwin's
high authority,he has revealed to us a most
habits
interesting
glimpse of his literary
and mind, as well as of a very importantevent in his history,
of
which
should otherwise
have been ignorant The
we
love of
"
Aristotle and his philosophy" could not possiblyapply more
forciblyto the Clerk,than we know itdid to Chaucer; and of the
tatter'slove of reading,and his propensityto enjoy that solace
in bed in his sleepless
hours,when the books at "his bed's head "
have been found very convenient,
must
he has himself expressly
^^^ repeatedly
informed
But the most
us.
striking
proof of the
connexion
is,that Chaucer, as we have juststated,has put into
*^^ Clerk's mouth
of one of the most
a record
events
interesting
of his (thepoet's)
life. " I will tell you a tale,"
says the Clerk to
his fellow-pilgrims,

PROFESSIONAL

MEN."

THE

CLERK

which
Learnfed at Padua of
"

OXENFORD.

129

that I

"

"

OF

worthy clerk,
"

'

"

Francis Petrarch,the laureate podte,"

tale referred to, is the wonderfully pathetic story of

'
which Petrarch translated from the * Decameron
of j
Grisilde,*
^
Boccaccio.
know
Now
that in i^TJ Chaucer
sent
we
was
mission
on
a
'^'
and probably a littlebefore
aBout
to Genoa, and that it was
the same
time, that Petrarch made the translation ; facts that,
taken in connection with the text,seem
to us tolerably
conclusive
of
incident.
still
As
truth
the
to the
further proof that the
as
a
Clerk
fact of the poet's biography,Godwin
states
a
remarks,
"
Why did Chaucer choose to confess his obligationto Petrarch
rather than to Boccaccio,from whose volume
Petrarch confessedly
translated it (and with which
Chaucer
was
familiarly
because he was
acquainted) ? For this very natural reason
his interview with this venerable
patriarch
eager to commemorate
of Italian letters,
and to record the pleasure he had
reaped
from
his society. Chaucer
could not do this more
eflfectually
than by mentioning his havingheard from the lipsof Petrarch,
had been previously
drawn
a tale which
up and delivered to the
another."
publicby
Sir Hams
Nicolas (in his * Life' of the poet)considers this T- '"^"**'^"
The

"

"

"

"

"

the ground that it is not certain that i

Chaucer
was
acquaintedwith the originalItalian of Boccaccio ;
that there 7nay have been a common
Latin originalof the tales'
well
to which
as
indebted; and'
Boccaccio, as
Chaucer, was
be
t
hat
it
Chaucer
not acquainted with'
inferred
was
lastly,
may
Italian'
tl e Italian language, since he has not introduced
any
time abound
in
quotationsinto his works, which at the same
I .atin and French words and phrases. Surely,this is questioning

reasoning doubtful,on

sake : the first two

questioning's
objectionsare
established
facts
ranged against
imsupported possibilities

for

mere

; and
since
centuries
the
Latin
and
for
French
had been
to
as
last,
familiar to all readers and writers in England, than
much
more
their own
mother- tongue (theFrench
had indeed become
a part
of the mother-tongue),there was
in introducing
perfectpropriety
and phrases from both if he so desired,whilst he
the words
would not have been even
understood
in similar introductions
from
Italian. We
should consider,
also,the circumstance that !
Chaucer
sent
was
on
repeated missions to Italy,as in itself a !
kind of evidence that he did understand the language in question;
|
Sir Harris Nicolas rejectssuch conclusions,
though it seems
because there are instances of ambassadors
who were
similarly
-

l^' ^'^''^

^^/
''

'"

'

TALES.

CANTERBURY

130

of business of the embassy,

ignorant.But were these the real men
?
and
It is no lightconsideration,
and were
again
they sent again
of the poet's
in reviewing this and still weightiermatters
whilst
the
ornamental
more
history,to perceivethat,
personages,
nine of the embassies dispatched
the knights,
lords,"c., of some
within the space of a few years, were
constantly
with the
as
constantly connected
changed, there is one man
real
and
the
labourer
that
nine
doubt
whole
diplomatic
no
Petrarch's lips,
From
is Chaucer.
then, we are quitepreone
pared
*
and
Godwin
the
with
text of the
to believe,
Canterbury
grapher
Tales,'did the poet hear the marvellous story ; and as his bioof
the
the
most
a
magic
observes,
tale,perhaps
pathetic
that human
fancy ever conceived,heard under the sacred roof
in whom
the genius of modem
of him
be
to
poetry seemed

to the Continent

"

"

concentrated,must

have

complicationof sentiment
the lot of few mortals to

been
and

altogethera surprise,
a
feast,a
pleasure,such as it has fallen to

conclude
this part
of our
subjectby relatingan anecdote illustrative of the effect
About
the same
time that
of'the tale on one
of its readers.
of his Italian
it to one
Petrarch read it to Chaucer, he showed
The
Padua.
latter
citizen
of
friends,a
attempted to read it
aloud,but he had no sooner
got into the incidents of the story
desist
than he was
choked
to
obliged
; his voice was
by his
but was
emotions.
He
repeated the trial,
quite unable to

partake.

We

may

proceed.
In the EUesmere
"

Manuscript,the Clerk's surcoat, or " overest

ings,
hood, is of a dirtyviolet colour ; his stock"
and bridle on his lean, miserable-looking

with the
"
and the saddle
horse,are of scarlet. He holds a book in his righthand, which
is stretched out, as if he were
descanting on its contents.
Under
his left arm
he carries other books bound
in red and
blue.
The painterhas not overlooked the " hollow " face of the
poor but high-minded Clerk.
In the " Originalsand Analogues of the Canterbury Tales,"
Part
has printed
II.,Chaucer
Society, 1875, Dr. Fumivall
Petrarch's Latin Tale of Griseldis, with its original.
Boccaccio's
Itah'an story.

courtepy,

TRADE

AND

COMMERCE."AGRICULTURE.

Section
TRADE

COMMERCE"

AND

3f, in reference

to

131

V.
AGRICULTURE.

the

period of Chaucer, we

exclude

higher aristocracyof England generally,whose

occupations appear to have been, government,
war,
and intrigue and also the inhabitants of the towns,
lived by the cultivation of trade, commerce,
and
the
who
mental
and
the
handicraft
arts
remainder, forming the
be divided
population, may
great bulk of the agricultural
who
lived
into four classes : the large landed
proprietors,
their
the
looked
after
smaller
and
estates
proprietors
;
upon
the

"

"

generallypossessedlittlepatrimoniesof their
others ; the villeins-regardant,
or
own,
who
stances
belonged to the soil,but under such circumor serfs,
Chaucer's
in
fast
time, they were
risingto the
that,
the soil to belong to them
(out
position that would cause
and
villeins
the
in
lastly,
original copyholders);
gross, or
in
the
of
the
movement
former
joining
slaves,who,"
personal
often
villein class, and
as
becoming villeins-regardant
a
or

freemen,

who

otherwise rented farms from

the grand goal, that of sellingtheir

stage towards
wherever
and
whom
to
they pleased, were
rapidly
losing their distinctive character of absolute slaves,and making
till now
who
not
to have
their rightsknown
to those
seem
Wat
had
The
dreamed
Tyler insurrection
they ever
any.
the part of the
but a phase of this movement
in 1 38 1 was
on

transition
labour

which
unenfranchised
must
slaves,and one
and solemn reflection in Chaucer's mind, who

"

have led to deep

had a personal as
his patron and
well as a public interest in the matter
; since
of the nobles
of
the
was
one
Gaunt,
brother-in-law,
great John
marked
and
out by the populace for their especial
vengeance,
in
of
the
That
whose
was
destroyed
Savoy
palace
consequence.
insurrection was
II.,faithless to
put down ; and King Richard
had shared in, or who
all his promises, told the people who
that as rustics they had been and
would have benefited by it^
remain ; and both he and his
were, so in bondage they should
laws to accomplish what he had
parliamentstrove by severe

CANTERBURY

I3a

TALES.

But a mightierfiat than that of King, Lords, and

forth ; and the movement
had
Commons,
progressed
gone
he
Chaucer
have
that his
B
efore
must
seen
died,
irresistibly.
in
and
effect already free ;
sure
were
we
are,
poor countrymen
who
in their elevation,
that he must
knew
have rejoiced
so well
to be found
the
what high intellect and loftyvirtues were
among
'*
and
the
threadbare-coated
witness
the
Parson,**
poore
poor
have spoken ; witness the humble
we
man,
PloughClerk,of whom
have yet to speak.
of whom
we
have named, Chaucer
Of the four agriculturalclasses we
of examples. The
with a comprehensive group
furnishes us
their
illustrated
landlords
and
in the
wealthy
agents are
Franklin,and the Reeve or Steward ; the freemen, in the Miller
and the Yeoman
(beforedescribed); and the unemancipatedjor
in the Ploughman, who appears to belong, oi
transition classes,
have
the first,
but to have risen,tillthere is little
to
to
belonged,
visible difference between
his position
and that of the " gentlemen
"
"
of
free-bore blood."
this -subject,
The
student should,on
consult Prof. Thorold
announced

"

Rogers's 'History of
Matthew
Denton's

Brown's
*

England

Agricultureand

Prices
Chaucer's
England,' and
in the Fifteenth Century;
*

in
the

England,'
late

Mr.

THE

(from
**

To
For

liven
he

FRANKLIN.

the

in
was

MS.)

ELLESMERE

delight was
Epicurus'

all his
owen

wone,

son."

[A^^

133.

THE

FRANKLIN.

THE

COMMERCE."

AND

TRADE

133

FRANKLIN.

able
respectof the class to which this luxurious,
"
son/'belongs,
owen
old gentleman, this Epicurus'
is to say,
that
free
word
the
;
franky
from
is derived
lands
his
held
immediately
who
one
the Franklin was
services
from the king,paying homage, but free from all feudal
dignityand imAnd
a
or payments.
person of considerable
been
at and
prior to the period of
have
portance he must
*
Metrical Chronicle' of Robert
In Part II. of the
Chaucer.
in
Manning, of Brunne (a.d.1338),the Franklin is placed very
there
writes,
indeed : that learned monk

^HE

name

highcompanionship

erle,ne barodn,
Was mad an other statute,that non
of toun,
No other lord stoute, ne fraunkelyn
"c.
Till holy kirk salle gyue tenement, rent, no lond,'*

Franklin
to find Chaucer's
be surprised
need not, therefore,
and
sheriff
knight of the
the distinguishedoffices of
tilling
afford to keep what, in
shire ; still less to find that he can
'*
The
open house."
modem
parlance,might almost be called
script,
manudress of the Franklin, according to the Ellesmere
bars
with
or
with
blue,
of red lined
surcoat
a
was
hat
blue
small
a
it. He wore
lace over
of
We

fringeor

stripes
turned

speak

up, and

black boots.

For

the rest, let Chaucer

himself

*'

his beard as is the day^sy.

Of his complexion he was
sanguine ;
a sop in wine.
Well lov*d he in the morn
all his wone,^
To liven in delightwas

White

was

For he was
That held

son
;
Epicurus'owen
that
plaindelight
opinion

perfite.
verilyfelicity
and
householder, that a great, was

Was
A

he ;

in his country.
alway after one ;'
His bread,his ale,was
"
where none.
^nvined
was
no
A better
man
his house
bak*d meat
was
never
Withouten

Saint Julian he

was

and that so plenteous,

Of flesh and fish,
and drink,
It snowed, in his house,of meat
could^ think.
Of allfedainties that men
*
*

Custom.
That is to say,

*
a

Always alike,and of course, alwaysgood.

havinga better store of wine.

man

TALES,

CANTERBURY

134
After

the sundry seasons

changed them at meat
Many a fat partridgehad
He

And

he in mew,
a luce in stew.^

bream, and many

his cook, but if his
a

many

Woe

of the year,
and at suppdre.

was

saucfe

were

dnd ready all his

Poignant and sharp,
^

gear.
in his hall alway,
His table dormant
Stood ready cover'd all the longfe
day.

he lord and sire.

At sessions there was
Full often time he was
knightof the shire.*
all of silk.
and a gipciere,*
An an'lace,*
his
w
hite
at
as morning milk.
girdle,
Hung
^
A sheriff had he been, and a countoiir
;
such
where
vavasour."
Was
a
no
worthy

Franklin's

were
"impatience if his sauces
article
of
and
his
in
due
dinner
poignant,
sufficiently
every
with
is
touched
the
of
hand
form and
readiness,
Pope or
Boileau:"
we
apprehend the time is coming, when it is Pope or
Boileau who will be honoured, by its being said,if with truth it
can
be, that they touch satire with the hand of Chaucer.
the poet has likened the Franklin,was
Saint Julian,to whom

Warton

the

says

not

lU*^

saint who

caterer

for

enjoyed particularreputation as

admirable

an

of good
his votaries in the matters
in short,good things of all kinds.

living,good

of
In some
Saviour
whose
house
our
legends,Simon,
In
lodged in Bethany, is called " Julian the good herberow.*'
*
the
Legend of Saint Julian,'a manuscript of the sixteenth
the following as the
Library, occur
century, in the Bodleian

lodgings,and,
the

the

old

concluding lines

"

this

Therefore

yet

to

leper, at

"

day they that

over

land

wend,

that good herberw

biddeth Saint Julian anon
oft
Pater-noster
And
Saint Julian's
sayethalso,
For his father's soul,and his mother's that he them

he them

Travellers,and their lodgings,

indeed,appear

to have

They

bringthereto."

"the saint's especialprotection,to have formed

objects of his care; for' in the tale of Beryn he
"

Pike in fishpond.
Never
as
moved, fixed,
opposed to the
trestles.
* Member
of Parliament,as Chaucer
once
* A kind of knife or
worn
dagger,generally

send ;

enjoyed

the principal
is invoked
to

time.
* Purse.
" Audi for.

usual movable
was

at

boards

on

for Kent.
the waist in Chaucer's

AGRICULTURE."

THE

FRANKLIN.

135

traveller who
had
been
treacherously used at the 1
he had been staying.
lines of Chaucer's
The last two
have caused his
description
^,,\,^^
'"****'
'
much
commentators
Countour
has
been supposed
perplexity.
and Warton, in his * Historyof Poetry,'
to mean
coroner,
adopts1
a

revenge

'

place where

"

that reading, and illustrates it by remarking that it was

an'
office ** ancientlyexecuted by gentlemen of the greatest respect
and property." The
Chaucer
MSS.
read contour
or cotnptour^
and

to

Compteur

this last reading appears

to us
is the French
for an
word
Robert
of Glcucesier,speaking of the

accountant

by the constable

court

"

who

Franklin

reckoner.

or

summoning

of

hundred

castle,says,

was

probably, like Adam

of

'

Arderne,the

"uh*4

v^

of the hundred
steward
he belonged,
to which
and officiated on all such great publicoccasions.
The
of the word
is val-vasor^under- vassal,one
vavasour

contour"

meaning

explain its meaning.

He held this hundred

mid great folk and honour,
his chief contour."
And Adam
of Arderne was

Chaucer's
"chief

of Gloucester

"

or

held

The vavasours
land, a chief noble, a vassal of the crown.
the entire class of middling country folk,among
Franklin.
there was
nowhere
such a worthy " man
as our

were

"

whom

Glancing for

of such men
at the residences
a moment
as the
their
domestic
their
and
at
Franklin, at
agricultural
economy,
of Chaucer's
operations,we may observe that the manor-house
time was
generally moated, had, according to its size,one or
two
court-yards,with gardens, fish-ponds,
pigeon-houses,"c.
food and
there was
a
rabbit-warren,furnishingat once
Of the
the woodland
to supply the hearth with fuel.
reserved
of
land in the immediate
the
best
was
course
vicinity,
tivated
culfor the lord's own
use, both pasture and arable ; which was
villeins.
class
of
his
lower
the
own
by
personalservants,
The
remainder
allotted out to the higher class of villeins ;
was
Then

fur,and

who rendered
various services in return, as by assistingin the
lord's agriculturaloperations,
or
following him to the camp
when
threatened ; or who paid him stillmore
war
directly,
by
The
by money.
produce of a
suppliesfor his table,or even
dant,
generallyexpended on the manor
very abun; when
The
with
lords.
was
neighbouring
exchanged
per-KU^",.
sons
engaged on such estates under the lord,appear to have
been
the Reeve
or
steward, who guarded all the manorial
both of the manor-house
accounts
privileges,
kepTthe principal
and
the farm, and superintendedthe domestics
; the bailiff,
manor

was

some

"

"

who had the management

of all that related to the CUlttvatibn
of the lafid ; the head
harvest-man, generally elected by the

/Hax

CANTERBURY

136

TALES,

table,and had a horse in the

who sleptin the same
lord's stable ; theplough-driver,
building
added
of
be
with the cattle ; to whom
host
a
lastlymay
herds,
shepploughmen, swineherds, carters, "c., down to the lowest
of all,
And
these the lord,when
the ordinary labourers.
over
he was
Chaucer's
such a one
as
Franklin,exercised what may

tenantry, who

be called
who
estate

ate

the lord's

of affectionate despotism. No one

upon his
nance
in health,wanted
was
employ and ample maintefailed to receive attentions and
who
were
ill,
; none
suitable food from his lady or
and
medicine, and generous
this system
other members
of his family. It was
necessary
should be changed ; but we are now
findingby painfulexperience
that it was
that ^/Z should be swept away;
not necessary
not at least tillsome
equivalenthad been found for the better
have
part. In the nineteenth century, alas ! these equivalents
y^t to be discovered.
a

kind

at

'

(from
"

MILLER.

THE

A
At

white

coat

the

and

bagg^pip^ could
wrestlinghe

MS.)

ELLESMERE

blue
he

would

hood

blow
bear

wear^d

and

away

he.

sound.
the

ram."

[Poffe137.

MILLER.

AGRICULTURE.'-THE

137

MILLER.

THE

the good Knight told his noble story of

*Palamon
and the Host
and Arcite,'
expressed his
had been
his
in
which
scheme
the
at
manner
delight
carried out, before
practically
had

CARCELY

all pale,
The Miller,that fordninkcn* was
So that unethe ' upon
his horse he sat,"

"

began to swear
rudely that he too could tell a tale,in return for
the Knight*s. The Host, not
little indignant at this insubordinate
a
whom
experience in such
conduct, but like a man
has taught wisdom, gently endeavours
matters
to keep him
within due bounds, and to persuade him to tell his tale at the
But the Miller is obdurate, so the Host
testily
proper time.
cries out

"

Tell on a devil way.

fool ; thy wit is overcome
"

Thou

art

and the Miller begins. We

to this story ; in the mean
the relater :

shall have

time, here

occasion

;'*

again to return
of
portrait

is Chaucer's

"

"

The Miller was

Full big he was

carl for the n6n^s ;'

brawn, and eke of b6n4s ;

stout

of

That proved well,for

all there he came,*

over
he would bear away the ram.
At wrestling,
He was
short shoulder*d,
broad,a thicks gnarre,*
There n'as no door that he n'ould heave off bar,
Or break it,at a running, with his head.
His beard as any sow, or fox,was
red,
And thereto broad,as though it were
a spade.
Upon the cop ^ rightof his nose he had
A wart, and thereon stood a tuft of hairs,
Red as the bristles of a sowfes ears.
^
blacks were, and wide.
His nosfe-thirlfes
A sword and buckler bare he by his side.

Very drunk.

Uneasily.
Nonce, occasion.

'

Wherever

A gnarre

he
is

round,rough, and
*
'

came.

hard knot

here
tree ; it seems
a
character of the Miller's
A Saxon
word, si^nifyinethe top of anything.
The old form of tne word nostrils.
a

muscular

in

to

illustrate the

body.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

138

His mouth
wide was
as
as a great furndce,
and a goliardeis,
He was
a jangler,^
of sin,and harlotries.
And that was
most
Well could he stealen corn, and toUen thrice
of gold,pardd.
And yet he had a thumb
A white coat and a blue hood wearfed he.
could he blow and soun,
A baggfepipfe

therewithal he

And

brought us
alluded

wrestling-matcheshere

The

awarded

the

to

out

conqueror,

'

of town.'

to, and

genuine

are

prizegenerally

the
old

English

toms.
cus-

sixty years before the period of

find recorded
the compositionof the * Canterbury Tales,'we
of
this
kind
held
of
at Westminster,
the particulars
games
attended
which
were
by serious consequences.
Stow, in his
read
the
"I
that
in
of
London,'
Survey
says,
year 1222, and
St. James's day, the citizens of
the 6th of King Henry III.,on
of defence and wrestling,
London
pital
to the hosnear
kept games
of Matilda, at St. Giles in the Fields,where
they got the
in the suburbs.
The bailiffof Westminster,
mastery of the men
be at Westbe
minster
to
revenged, proclaimed a game
desiring to
Lammas
the citizens repaired."
day, whereunto
upon
of the
When
they had played awhile,the bailiff and the men
fell
the
suburbs,armed, treacherously
unsuspectingcitizens,
upon
riot ensued, in
and drove them into the city; and a formidable
houses were
The ringleadersin the
which many
pulleddown.
About

and

hundred

riot were
hanged.
The Miller,it appears,
u

c-

is

"

an
goliardeis,"

from
according to Tyrrwhitt,
irived,
fitfrom Golias,the real or assumed

deappellation
borrowed

jovialsect,who
name

of

witty writer of

latter part of the twelfth

several
century (he wrote
in
Latin
of
rhyme); but the originalsource
pieces
burlesque
the English word seems
to be the French
goulis^greCdy,which
*
in
Piers Ploughman's
is supportedby a very pertinent
passage

the

Vision

:'
"

grievedhim

"Then

Goleardeis,a gluttonof words."

of
allusion in the text to the "thumb
is
if
it
"as
to
most
probable,
Tyrrwhitt says,
refers,
*
the old proverb,
Every honest miller has a thumb of gold,'the
that our Miller,notwithstanding his thefts,
mean
passage may
honest
was
an
miller,that is,as honest as his brethren : " to
ourselves it appears much
more
probablethat the line coming
as it does,immediately after the notice of his thefts
With

"/y*

respect

to

the

gold,"Mr.

"

"

Babbler.

'

That

And

yet he had

is to say, cheat in his

thumb

of

gold,pard^,"

reckoning,by taking toll

thrice

over.

AGRICULTURE.-'TRE
is neither

MILLER.

139

bit of satire directed at the Miller's own

pretensions
to honesty, nor
of the white
at the pretensions of his brethren
coat
as
generally; but refers simply to his skill,
showing how
"
thefts.
Mr.
his
for
there
little need
Yarrell says,
was
It is
well known
that all the science and tact of a miller are directed
so to regulatethe machinery of his mill that the meal
produced
should
be of the most
valuable description
that the operation
of grinding will permit when
tageous
peformed under the most advanHis profitor his loss,
circumstances.
his fortune
even
a

"

his ruin,depends upon

the exact
adjustment of all the various
stantly
parts of the machinery in operation. The miller's ear is condirected to the note
made
the
by
running stone, in its
the bed-stone ; the exact
circular course
over
parallelismof
indicated
their two
by a particular
surfaces,
sound, being a
his hand
of the first consequence
is constantly
matter
; and
or

placed under

the

to
meal-spout,

ascertain by actual

contact

the

6t
qualities

the meal produced. The thumb, by

the fingers:
a particular
spreads the sample over
movement,
is the gauge of the value of the produce ; and hence
the thumb
miller's thumb,' and *An
have arisen the sayings of * Worth
a
honest miller hath a golden thumb,' in reference to the amount
of his skill. By this incessant
of the profitthat is the reward
in its form is proaction of the miller's thumb, a peculiarity
duced,
which is said to resemble
exactlythe shape of the head
character

and

found in the mill-stream,

and has obtained
of the fish constantly
for it the name
of the miller's thumb, which
in the
occurs
*
Wit
several Weapons,' by Beaumont
at
and
comedy of
in Merrett's * Pinax.'
also
though
Ali ; and
Fletcher,Act v., scene
of
the improved machinery
the present time has diminished
for the miller's skill in the mechanical
the necessity
department, the thumb is stillconstantlyresorted to as the best
Fishes,
of flour." BHiish
test for the quality
continued
till
beard
The
a comparativelyrecent
spade-like
"

be worn
our
beard-lovingancestors.
among
interferes to tell his tale out of
Such is the Miller,who now
due course
because
precisely
; and having obtained permission,
it was
useless to refuse it,he begms, " Now
harkeneth
all and

period to

some

:"

But firstI make a protestatloun

That I am
I
drunk, 1 know well by my soun
And therefore if that I mispeak or say,
Wyte it ^ the ale of Southwark, I you pray."
*

Blame

for it. Our

twit is from

A, S. (etwiian.

CANTERBURY

I40

THE

Miller had

HE

of
the
"

REEVE.

proposed to

carpenter and

TALES,

tell a

legend and

of his spouse,

etc.,when

interruptedby the Reeve j and for a

in the prologue will make
description

The Reevfe was

a slender choleric man";
His beard was
shav'd as ni^h as ever
he can
His hair was
by his earfes round yshorn ;
His top was
docked Kke a priest
beforn.
and full lean,
Full long^ were
his leggfes,

lifeboth
self
he is him-

reason

which.

apparent

:
"

All like a staflF,

there was
calf yseen.
no
Well could he keep a gamer
and a bin.
There was
auditor could on him win.
no
Well wist he by the drought,
and by the rain.
The yieldingof his seed and of his grain.
His lordfes sheep,his neat,*and his dairy,
His swine,his horse,his store,and his poultry,
Were

wholly in this Reevfe's governing ;

by his covenant
gave he reckoning,

And
Since that his lord was twenty year ot age :
There could no man
bring him in drrearage.
There n'as bailiflF,
ne
herd,^ne other hine,^
That he ne knew his sleight,
and his covine :*
They were a-dread*^ of him as of the death.
full fair
His wonning*was
upon a heath.
With greenfetrees yshadowed was
his place.
He couldfe better than his lord purchase.
Full rich he was
ystorfed
privily;
His lord well could he pleasensubtilly,
To g^ve, and lean',him of his owen
good,
eke a hood.
a thank, a coat, and
had
learned
he
a
good mistere,^
youth
He was
a well good wright,
a carpenter.
This Reevfe sat upon a well good stot*
That was a pomelee^^
Scot'.
gray, and hightfe
And

have

In

^ Herdsman.
*
Neat cattle.
Hind.
^
*
Afraid.
His secret contrivances or tricks.
Dwelling.
'
bend him to his (theReeve*s) own
or
Incline,
good or purposes.
8
trade.
or
Mystery
* In the
this word
is still used, but in connection
North
with a
In
David
Sir
bullock only.
Lyndsay, as well as in Chaucer, we find
There is littledoubt the word came
from beyond
it appliedto a horse.
the animal is ** highte Scot,
the border, for in the next line we
see
1

i"

Dappled.

REEVE.

THE

(from
"

The
His

beard

His

top

Full
All

Fage

Reevfe

was

slender

shave

was

long
like

vras

docked
were

MS.)

ELLESMERE

the

his

colerick

man.

he can.
nigh as ever
like a priest,befom,
legg^s, and full lean,
as

stafF,there

140.]
N

was

no

calf

yseen."

141"

REEV".

AGRICVLTURE."THE

long surcoat of blue upon he had ;

And by his side he bare a rusty blade.
Of Norfolk was this Reeve, of which I tell,
Beside a town
callen Baldfeswell.
men
Tucked
he was, as is a frere,
about,
he rode the hinderest of the rout."
And ever
A

remark, however, soon

brings him forward
reserved
calculating
Reeve,
cautious,
stung by the anc/
of
which
the
class
he
had
ridicule
to
once
belonged
ticipated
his
his
his
and
alike
caution,
schemes,
and,
reserve,
forgets
The
The

Miller's

amidst

the

mirth
ill-suppressed
"

Let be

of the

Stint thy
lewed
drunken
thy

pilgrimscalls out,
"

clappe.
etc.
harlotry,"

But he has a man

to deal with,whom
nothing can move
is still less likelyto "stint" when
and who
from his purpose,
for malicious
he
much
matter
sees
so
enjoyment before
richest and
The
of Chaucer^s
him.
tale the Miller tells is one
and
the laugh at its conbroadest in ridicule of a carpenter,
clusion
Reeve
alone looks gloomy,"
is loud and long. The
"

But

littleire is in his hearth left.'*

he,

says

"

-" Full well could I him

quit,
With blearingof a proudfemiller's eye,
lustfe* speak of ribaldry.
If that me
list not play for age ;
old ; me
But I am
is
Grass time
done, my fodder is now
forage"?
My whii^ top write th mine old^ years.
mine hairs.
Mine heart is all so moulded
as

In
forth

similar

his

strain

he

continues

reflections (one very

for
fine line

some
we

time
must

to
not

pour
pass

unnoticed,
"

'

tillthe

*'

We

hoppen alway,while

Host, who

has

mortal

the world

will

dislike of

"

pipe "),
"

sermoning,"calls

out,
"

Please,

Fodder being a generalname

for meat
given to cattle in winter,
with food applied to man
of affinity
and beasts,
doth only signify
And so the sense
meat.
that is,my meat
is such
is,my meat is forage,
hard and old provisionas is made
for horses and cattle in winter."^
"

"'

and

F,

Thynnis Animadversions,

i4"

TALMS.

CANTERBURY
"

What

amounteth

"

allthis wit ?
"

"

forth

Say
thy tale,and tarry not the time.
Lo 1 here is Depford^ and it is pass'dprime ;
Lo 1 Greenfewicn,
there many
is in ;
a shrew
all time thy tal^ to begin."
It were
Thus

admonished, the Reeve

a
commences
story, which
does
the
not
certainly
Miller,or fail to
spare, by reflection,

requitehim

in his own
coin.
Ellesmere
Reeve"
manuscript "the
presents us
with an
admirable
of Chaucer's
portraiture
pilgrim. He is
is represented
He
evidentlyas choleric as he is thin.
like the
about the
ears
closelyshaved, his hair rounded
"
"
of
later
docked
and
the
at
ears
a
time,
top like a
crop
blue garment,
scarlet hood, and scarlet
a
priest. He wears
of enormous
size. Warton's
servations
obstockings; also a sword
this
character are
and comon
so
plete,
just,apposite,
that we
better conclude
than by transcribing
cannot
them :" " He
officer of much
and
an
was
greater trust
than
His
at present.
authority during the feudal times
attention to the care
the
and
custody of the manors,
prothen kept in hand
for furnishinghis
\ duce of which
was
lord's table, perpetuallyemploys his time,
his
preys upon
him
is the
and
He
lean
choleric.
'thoughts,and makes
his
of
and
is
circumbailiffs
and
remarkable
for
terror
hinds,
'
in arrears, and
vigilanceand subtlety. He is never
spection,
auditor
is
able
detect
him
in
over-reach
to
accounts
no
or
; yet
he makes
commodious
more
purchases for himself than for his
the good will or bounty of the latter.
master, without forfeiting
Amidst
these strokes of satire,
Chaucer's geniusfor descriptive
breaks
in
forth
the
painting
simple and beautiful description
of the Reeve's rural habitation,
In

the

"

"

"

The

the

name

He had his wonnins^ fair

upon
With greene trees yshadow*d was

here is a proof,if any

spelling
Deptford"the dcepe-ford.

were

heath
his

"
place.*

of
needed, of the origin

AGRICULTURE.-^THE

THE

PLOUGHMAN.

143

PLOUGHMAN.

and
^His industrious,simple hearted, charitable,

good

occupiesbUt

in the text ; the descripa small space

man
tion
and unobtrusive.
The
is,like himself,humble
f
eature
his
of
most
personal history is
interesting
"
with the
his connection
Parson,'* as that of his moral
poore
is the benefit he appears to have thence derived.
He
character
Parson's
in
in
the
well
is
as
as
blood,
spirit,
"

That
A

yled*of

had

trufe swinker*

Living in

brother

full many

dung
a good was

and

fother^

he ;

and perfectcharity.
God loved he best with all his trufe heart,
At alle tim^s
though him gained or smart.
And then his neigh^bour rightas himselve.
He wouldfe thresh,and thereto dyke, and delve,
For Christy's sake,with every poorfewight,
Withouten
hire,if it lay in his might.
His tithfespayfed
he full fair and well,
peace,

Both of his owen

swink,* and his catteL
In ataMrd
he rode upon a mare."

Of

the state

of the class

Ploughman,

the

we

representedamong

possess

but

the pilgrimsby
information; though
in Piers Ploughman with his

meagre

there is an undying sketch of one

wife at plough, and their ba.be laid
frornthe text that he is not a mere

tEe^field.
ploughman in

It is'evident

on

who
has
attach to the words ; being a man
now
**
tithe" is expected. He was
most
from whom
who
of that large class of emancipated villeins,

the

sense

we

"cattle,"and"
probably one

^
'

had risen by!71/.

the produce

byf

small piece of land and by eking out

wealthier
for other and
The
labour
rental
men.
the
about
of
of land, at or
Chaucer, presents some
period
curious features as to the pricesand quantitiesof land concerned.^
We
from
Sir
Cullum's
extract
a few
particulars
John
*
One
8 acres
rental in 1420 mentions
History of Hawsted.'

renting

occasional

land

arable

of

at

acres

From

9^. an

the

same

let at 6^. an
acre, and a
work
we

; another

acre

in 1421,

thirty-eight

garden at the old rent of lay. a year.

obtain an
idea of the extent
and

That is to say, of the fruits of his labour as well as of his cattle.

and Prices in England,'
See Thorold Rogers's* Hist, of Agriculture

to

load.

Led, carried

on

the land.

Or

Worker

or

labourer,

CANTERBURY

t44

TALES,

produce of a piece of arable land in the manor

of 157^^acres.
This was
cultivated in
of Hawstead, consisting
of wheat and fifty-four
and
the proportionof fifty-seven
acres
of the

nature

twenty-two of peas.
than
less
eight bushels per
produce averaged
As to other matters, the land lyingnearest
to inhabited
acre.
cultivated
the
the
best
common
was
pastures served
;
I places
"
^
and
and beech-mast
of
cattle,*' the acorns
as
support for the
a

half of oats,

to

twenty-fourof barley and

somewhat

The

livingthe labouron
appetite,
ing
'
which no
doubt was
sufficiently
sharpened by the continual
labour they had to perform. During harvest,herrings,beer,and
of beans,
of rye, barley, peas, and
made
bread
occasionally
bandman's
formed
the chief part of the provisionsthat graced the husfor the hogs ; whilst for their own
populationrelied little on luxuries and

the woods

much

cheese also were

not
rural
in
in
b
oth
and
tricts,
distowns
valuations,
wanting.
made
find mention
of stores
of corn
we
possessed by the
the neglect of this precaution (generally
It was
inhabitants.
the consecarried into effect immediately after harvest),and
quent
famines.
that
that
often
ensued,
improvidence
produced
When
sold at such low pricesas to be within the
wheat was
table.

Messes

of pottage and

In ancient

of the poor, it was

thing. This

of course
only the case immediately after a very favourable harvest.
Iji was
In " Piers Ploughman " is recorded
instance of this kind ;
an
"
bread
that in it beanes
when
eat
even
no
beggar would
were."
Implements at this period were
simple,few in number,
self
himthem
and
inexpensive; for the user
generally made
reach

thought

great

iron ploughshare,an
an
axe, and
articles which
he was
accustomed

spade,formed

the
The

purchase.
badly fed, that
plough
oxen,
six of them
were
requiredfor the purpose, and, after all,scarce
Such
half an acre
turned up as the result of a day's work.
was
of
in
time
olden
the
difficulties
of
the
some
husbandry
were
;
and to these circumstances
not
we
probably owe
only the
but the little prominence given by Chaucer
to his
simplicity,
Ploughman.
have
We
already given Stow's explanationof the meaning
Tabard^
Clarke* says
of the word
(page 11). Mr. Cowden
has dressed his Ploughman in a tabard, evidentlyto
Chaucer
only

was

drawn

by

which

were

to

so

"

As the Ploughman tells no tale,he is unluckily

drawn
for us
not
EUesmere
illuminator
of
the
the
MS.
One
spurious Ploughman's
by
first printed in * Thnnye's Chaucer,* 2nd
tale was
edition,
Oxford MS. of the * Tales.*
1542 ; another is in the Christchurch
*
Mr. Clarke,in his * Riches of Chaucer,'
the first who
took
underwas
the
for the

"

use

labour of love " of endeavouringto unseal the poet'spages

of a wide class of readers by accentuatingthe lines.

AGRICULTURE.-THE

PLOUGHMAN,

145

the notion that it was

that had been
a cast-off dress
We
doubt this. Chaucer
in the habit of
was
given to him."
that
to his object,and
saying at once
going straightforward
what
which
he wished to be understood.
And
is there about
the Ploughman
such
he needed
to suppose
or would
a
wear
"
No
this
be.*'
eternal blazon would
Stow
not
:
gift?
says
and others;" and,
the tabard was
of "noblemen
once
worn
of a similar shape, without all
a garment
probably, there was
the
in use
the finery,but known
by the same
among
name,
the
and
valued
people , perhaps, after all our old
acquaintance,
convey

"

smock-frock.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

146

Section
TRADE

AND

VI.

COMMERCE."

THE

MERCHANT.

the progress of commerce^

of that great event which
the thirteenth centuryj-rthe
so peculiarly
distinguishes
rise of the Commons,
or peopleof England, into political
r
e-acted
of
that
course
so
naturally
very power
upon
power ;
the influences which had developedit : under its watchful care,
less restricted by unnatural laws, charters
became
commerce
for self-governmentwere
obtained,and powerfulassociations
could
of the time
the monarchs
formed ; to which
not
"

^^

;.U"

the increase of towns, and

the immediate
causeswere

refuse their sanction,although perhaps not altogetherunaware

of the bulwarks they were
assistingto raise againsttheir own
So
the
rapid,consequently, was
arbitraryencroachments.
of
after
first
the
the
of
towns
England
principal
progress
shock of the Conquest had
passed away, th'^t*within about
'^
rivalled
merchants
three centuries of that period,our
principal
*
and in ostentatious but stillgenuine
in wealth and splendour,
the ancient barons of the country, to whose rank,
(hospitality,
sometimes
indeed, their descendants
successfullyaspired.
with the wars, and what
with the immense
bands
of
What
^
retainers always attached to the feudal estates, the value of
'^-^^ the latter was
arose
continuallyciecrcasing
pecuniary
; hence
sales of the broad
then mortgages, and sometimes
difficulties,
and prosperous merchants
lands,to the thriving
; who, as their
became
and
and
assistance
more
more
desiderated,
grew more
ci"L
and
and
demanded
rewards
more
ambitious,
higher
powerful
'"
Michael
for their services. Thus
de la Pole, Earl of Suffolk,
and lord chancellor to RicEardir, was
the son of a merchant
and
owed
firstand
the
difficult
ment,
most
only,
steps of his advanceto the loans which
his father had advanced
to the third
in France.
And
Edward, for the prosecution of the wars
these princely
eminently worthy of respect and honour were
of the fourteenth
merchants
the number
century I Among
of the most
of the time.
some
There
were
distinguishedmen
was
John Philpot^who, in the second year of Richard II.'s
'

THE

(from

MERCHANT.

the

**

Upon

Page

146.]

his

head

MS.)

ELLESMERE

high

on

Flanders

horse
beaver

he

sat.
hat."

when

reign
"

COMMEKCE.-^THE

AND

TRADE

Meccer,

MERCHANT.

had

Scotchman,

fitted

out

147

piratical

hired

ships and a thousand soldiers

against the English
sole cost, and, putting to sea, attacked
and took
at his own
and fifteen Spanish shipswhich
with all his prizes,
he
Mercer

fleet

had

"

There

drawn
to his assistance.
of
wine merchant, mayor

was

Henr^Picard, vintner,

r,".,

London, who entertained four kings

at dinner, the year
followingthat in which the battle of Poitiers
had
been
Edward, king of England ;
fought. They were
John, king of France, his prisoner; David, king of Scots ; and
the King of Cyprus. " After dinner," says the old chronicler
the said Henry Picard kept his hall against all comers
Stow,
In
willingto play at dice and hazard.
whatsoever, that were
the Lady Margaret, his wife,did also keep her
like manner
The
intent.
the same
chamber
to
King of Cyprus, playing
in
his hall,did win of him fifty
marks
with Henry Picard
; but
in
skilful
that
his
did
after
altering
hand,
being
art,
Henry
very
marks
the
and
marks
win of the same
same
fifty
king
fifty
the same
king began to take in illpart,
more
; which, when
the same,
Henry said unto him, ' My
although he dissembled
not
lord and
king, be not aggrieved ; I covet
gold, but
your
I
I
have
bid
hither
that
for
not
might grieve
play ;
you
your
I might try your play ;'
other
but
things,
that,
amongst
you,
his money
and (then)gave him
again, plentifully
bestowing of
or

"

"

his

own

the

to

amongst

king and
There

him."

was

rich gifts
the retinue : besides he gave many
and
other nobles
knights which dined with
also Sir Williaiii Walworth, who
struck
head

the

of Ms

Wat
it may

Tyler

at

questioned for

be

act

"

its

called in the aid of romance

to explainthe mode
Besides
endowment
the erection
and
still
existing; he rebuilt,
magnificent almshouses,

popular mind

its accumulation.

of

the

of

the
gaol of Newgate, the libraryof
expense,
of Little St Bartholomew, and
the
Friars,
hospital
Grey
after his own
called
These
St.
Paul's,
name.
a .college near
all merchants, and
were
men
contemporaries of the great
his

at

own

the

poet!
introduction,explanatory of the rank and position
of the merchants
generally of Chaucer's period, we introduce
With

this

his individual
**

:
portrait
"

A
In

Merchant

there,with

was

and high
raottfely,

Upon

his head

on

^../.^^

ever
how-

men
an
which,
morality, was
perhaps as
committed.
the
ever
Lastly,there was
daring an act as was
who
have
Sir Richard
must
famous
expended so
Whittington,
that
his
need
wonder
the
not
fortune in
charities,
we
vast
a

down

horse

forked
he

Flandrish beaver

beard

sat ;

hat.

^^'^*'

TALES.

CANTERBURY

I4S

fair and fetisly,*

claspfed
full solemn^Iy ;
he
reasons
spake
the
increase
of his winning
Sounding alwiy

His
His
He

booths

would

the

sea

were

kept*for anything

Betwixen
Middleburgh and Orfewell.
sell.
Well could he in exchanges shieldfes^
full
well
his
wit
beset,*
This worthy man
that he was
in debt ;
There wist^ no man
he of governance,
was
So ^stately
With his bargains,and with his chevisance.*
withal. "
Forsooth he was a worthy man
'ht^r^/

dress is explainedby the manuscriptso often

The " mottfely*'
habited in a garment
referred to ; where we find the Merchant
with
and
lined
red
blue,
of a bright
colour,
figuredwith white
dress
the
most
flowers
or
blue
and
liveryof the
probably
;
he belonged. In a beautifullyilluminated
to which
company
initial letter of the charter granted by Henry VI., in 1444, to
representationof
the Leather-sellers' Company, is a coloured
of the members,
the king handing the parchment scroll to some

dress is of the same

whose
colours, red and blue,as that of the
in the manuscript. The incorporationof these great
Merchant
have before incidentallystated,a
civic companies was,
as
we
fourteenth
of
the
f
eature
Many of them had
century.
striking
but now
and
existed
fraternities;
a
s
guilds
they
previously
long
of
extensive powers
remodelled, and obtained much more
their
crafts.
The
affairs
of
the
respective
smiths,
goldadministering
the right of assaying metals ;
for instance, obtained
A proof of the rapidity
and the vintners that of gauging wines.
in public esticharacter
mation,
commercial
the
with which
rose
now
whilst
in
the
is furnished by the fact,that
reign of
earls and one
but two
Edward
III. there were
bishop among
Tailors' Company,
of the Merchant
the honorary members
had increased by the followingreign to four royal
that number
dukes, ten earls, ten barons, and five bishops. This sudden
be taken, however, we
must
influx of royaland noble personages
consciousness
their
of the extent
evidencingsimply
as
presume,
it to their
desire
direct
with
the
to
of the new
coupled
power,
and
all
real
at
not
as
evidencing
sympathy
own
any
purposes,
with those pioneersof the future greatness of England. Those
made
sufficiently
Richard,having
apparent when
purposes were
its provisions,
disannulled
revoked
the
resumed
charter,
city's
and
its
its liberties,
laws, once
more
abrogated
put forward, in
were

1
"
*

"

Featly,or neatly.
side
crowns, having on one
Employed.
Agreements in borrowingmoney.
French

2
a

shield*

Guarded.

TRADE

COMMERCE."

AND

MERCHANT,

THE

14$

A
1382, his creature, Sir Nicholas Brember, as lord mayor.
raised ; and a new
however, was
candidate,
strong opposition,
of
the
was
by
popular
John
supported
part)r ;
Northampton,
and
which

so

much
lives

that
produced,

excitement

riot took

place,in;"

seized and
lost. Jonn of Northampton was
were
prison; and, it is said,one of his principalsupporters,'
Chaucer^ escaped the same
fate,only by takingrefusem Zeain

put

for

suffered much
distress.
But he '
in hope to live in secret, was
too, after a time, returning,
discovered, and thrown into the Tower ; from which he was
disclosures concerning
liberated till he had made
not
some
land

time ;

where

he

his former partisans.The nature

of these disclosures,
however,
been at all of a dishonourable
does not seem
to have
kind,for/
Harris)
Sir
suffered by them.
Thus states Godwin
but
one
no
;
Nicolas
that
the
it
shows
certainly
stands,cannot
story as
sibly be true : on the other hand, the passages of Chaucer's!
which
Godwin
of Love, on
Testament
chieflyrelies,do, it^
is
truth
of
kind in it.
show
there
that
to
some
us,
appears

pos-|

Chaucer

says
"

He

of his
would

Betwixen

Merchant,

kept for anything

Middleborghand Oriwell ;
the

sea

were

"

Tyrrwhittillustratesby the remark, "" the old subsidyof

"
tonnage and poundage was given to the kingfor the safeguard
and custody of the sea, 12 Edw.
IV., c 3 ; without any further
explanation. We may add, then, that our readers have seen a
liable
shipswere
specimen of the dangers to which merchant
circumstances
with
the
connected
this
in
the
during
period,
for ^"'
Scotchman, Mercer ; and the consequent necessity
piratical
"
"
the seas being better "kept" from
Middleburgh to Or^ well ;
which

"

"

which places,
between
doubtless,flowed one of the great streams
of commercial
mtercourse.
Middleburgh is stilla well-known
mediately
in the Netherlands,almost import of the island of Walcheren
oppositeHarwich, beside which are the aestuaries of :
This spot was
the rivers Stoure and Orwell.
formerly known
.

it was
Orewell ; in effect,
the port of,
the port of Orwell
or
the wealthy and thrivingtown
of Ipswich,situated but a short'
distance up the last-named
river.
There are some
interesting
recollections connected
with the Orwell.
its mouth, a
Near
took place between
most
important naval engagement
King
Alfred
in 8S0.
and the Danes
sailed the
Along its waters
several of their fearful plunderingexpeditionsinto
Danes
on
the interior of the country : Ipswich was
pillagedno less than
the years 991 and 1000.
three times by them
between
And,
to
to our
come
nearer
own
lastly,
times, and to recollections
as

of

more

pleasant nature, along

the

banks

of

this

river.

".

CANTERBURY

150

TALES.

familiarize him,accustomed
to stray, and
sclf with those beautiful forms of rustic and landscape scenery,
which he afterwards
ment
so
reproduced for the enjoybeautifully
of his admiring countrymen.
As to the other principal
features of the Merchant's portrait,
as it exists in the illuminated
manuscript, " His booths clasped

Gainsborough

was

"

"
fair and fetisly
are
carefullyshown ; and look, as Shakspere
"
the sign of the leg,'*
has expressed it, very smooth, like unto
His steed is on the gallop ; and he wears
spurs with enormous
looks
He
rowels
trait of the times,we presume.
a fashionable
is strikingly
in the prime of life; and his countenance
expressive
of the man
of business,who is
"

"

Sounding alwAy th' increase

of his

winning."

pilgrimsgenerallyseem to have been unfortunate in

wives,or else take great liberties with truth,as well as with
The

absent

their
their

the Merchant, at the conclusion

Thus
partners'characters.
it
that
of the story of Grisilde,
struck by the contrast
to

suggests
"

him, breaks

thus

Weeping and wailing,care and other sorrow,

I know enough,on even, and on morrow,"

and adds, in
"

out

explanation,

I have

that may be ;
For though the fiend to her ycouplfedwere,
She would him overmatch,I dare well swear."
a

wife,the

worsts

But
a
perhaps, after all,the subjectwas
standing joke in
Chaucer's
time as in our
and
own
enjoyed with the more
;
felt
in
themselves
for the occasion the
zest
proportionas men
free from the despotism of the fireside.
more

SHIPMAN.

THE

(from

the

ELLESMERE

MS.)

faldyng to the knee ;

lace had he,
a
A dagger hanging on
adown.
his
arm
his neck, und^
About
In

With

gown^

many

of

tempest

had

his beard

been

shake.*

IPags

151.

TRADE

AUD

Shipman
For

He
In

aught
gown

on
dagger'hanging

far

there,wonning*

was

I wote

rode upon
a

151

SHIPMAN.'

THE

SHJPMAN.

COMMERCE.-^TBE

of
a

he

was

by west,

of Dartfemouth.
.

as he couthe.;*
rouncie,^
falding*to tlie knee.
a

lace had

he

About his neck, under his arm

adown.
The hot summer
had made his hue all brown.
And
he was
a good felliw.
certainly
Full many
he hadd^ draw
a draughtof wine
From
Bourdeaux ward,while that the chapman

sleep:

Of Tiich conscience

took he no kee{".
If that he fought,
arid had the higherhand,
By water he sent them home to every land."^
But of his craft,
to reckon well the tides.
His streamfes and his dangers him besides.
His herbergh,"
and his m(3bn, his lodemanage,'
There

was

none

such from Hullfe to Carthige.

wise to undertake ;
tempest had his beard been shake.

Hardy he was, and

With many
a
He knew well all the havens, as they were,
From
Scotland to the Cape of Finisterre ;
And every creek in Bretagne and in Spain
His

barge yclepM

the

Magdelayne.

littlepriorto the periodof Chaucer,

made
advance, that the Shipman was doubtless an
so great an
important, and, consideringthe dangers of his avocation and
he was
the variety of adventures
constantly meeting with,a
character.
The
known
only became
magnet
very interesting
in Europe towards the end of the twelfth century ; and did not,

Commerce,

about

and

was

P. Q. Karkeek's
paper
Soc, pt. y., 1884.
*
Dwelling.
See

Mr.

on

the

common

Shipman

in

Essays

on

Chaucer, Ch.
^
*

That

A. kind

is to say,

of

coarse

as

well as he
cloth.

was

hackney

horse.

able.

captivesoverboard and let them drown.

7
Harbourage.
8 Even
find this word in use
late as the reign of George III. we
so
Chaucer
in which
in the sense
appliesit,namely, pilotage.See the
the
III.
From
Geo.
the north
Stat.
c. 13.
same
idea,that oi leading,
the
loadsionQ.
and the magnet
Btar is called the lode-st"T,
fi

Threw

his

'

CAMTEKBURY

152

"^

it is supposed,get into familiar use, before the middle of the

thirteenth.
Chaucer, indeed, and his Scottish contemporary
the
Barbour, are the first British writers who notice it. From
of
the
channels
in
which
the
we
perceive some
description,
of the fourteenth century flowed.
commerce
English vessels
our
country and France, Spain, and
passed to and fro between
"
from
Scotland
Finisterre ; '
to
the places along the coast
the ports, Hull and Bourdeaux
are
tioned.
menparticularly
and, among
-of the mercantile
this
A peculiarity
at
period
navy
its being frequently
and
employed in warlike expeditions,
was
the" preservation
of rnany parcircumstance
owe
we
to that
ticulars
When
to its extent.
Henry III.,in 1253, ordered all
as
the vessels in England to be seized and employed against the
in Gascony, their number, according to Matthew
rebel barons
above
a
were
thousand, of which three hundred
Paris, was
III. was
Edward
besieging Calais, he
large ships. When
had
with him
710 vessels belonging to English ports, with
of 14,151 persons.
the number
It may
be interesting
to
crews
relative
the
of
the
and
to
see
men
proportion
ships
furnished
by the different i)Iacesin England, as it may be
criterion of their relative maritime
taken as a tolerablyexact
sent
importance. London
25 ships with 662 men
; Margate 15
with 160 ; Sandwich, 22 with 504 ; Dover, 16 with 336 ; Winchelsea, 21 with 596; Weymouth, 20 with 264 ; Newcastle, 17
with 414 ; Hull, 16 with 466 ; Grimsby, 11 with 171 ; Exmouth,
with
10
Dartmouth, 31 with
Plymouth, 26 with
193;
with
603; Looe, 20
Fowey, "47 with 170; Bristol,
325;
with
608 ; Shoreham,
ivith 329 ; Southampton,
20
21
24
16
with
with
with
484
Yarmouth,
Lyme,
;
572 ;
43
1095 *
Hanvich, 14 with 283; Ipswich,
Gosport, 13 with 403;
Boston
with
In the
12
361.
whole,
17 with
239 ; and

'" "'/- M,,

'

j"j\

..t V'

"

.^u^

TALES.

to a ship, so that the vessels

are
scarcelytwenty men
small.
have been
Later in the same
generallymust
century,
in (1360,)Edward
and
issued a
life-time,
during Chaucer's
similar order to that before mentioned, for arresting all the
vessels
in his dominions
directed to
now
; the largest were
armed
and
archers.
Such
sixty
carry fortymariners,forty
men,
have
of very
been
for its
a ship must
respectabledimensions
Of the kind of articles
avocation.
more
peacefuland legitimate
which
formed the staple commodities
of commerce
during the
in the
exact
account
periodof the poet, we have a sufficiently
of the Exchequer for the year
Records
the
ment
docuoldest
1354,

there

we
'

"^

-'

'

exports

sack

'

value of

possess
of that

3036

cwt.

2 1 J.

M,

of the kind.
year
of wool

were

at

; hides to

"

From

them

it appears that the

of wool
at 6/. per

31,6514 sacks
at a total
per cwt. ; 65 woolfels,
the value of 89/.55, ; 4774J pieces

40J.

of

COMMERCE.

AND

TRADE

cloth,at

4af.

SHIPMAN.

"THE

153

kind as
the Shipman's
same
806 li pieces of worsted
stuff,at
value
of the exports, 212,338/.5J., paying
From
these figures
of 81,846/.I2J. 2d.
of
about
thirteen-fourteenths
constituted
of
The importsconsisted
1831
England.

each

(of the

"falding/' perhaps); and

%d. each : total
to the amount
that wool
it appears
the entire exports of
pieces of fine cloth,at
i6j.

customs

cwt.

1829J tuns

of

61. each

wine, at

397}

40J. per

cwt.

tun

of
and

22,943/.6s. lod.

etc, to the value of

grocery,
of 38,383/.\6s. lod.
The
value
which

wax

at

40?.

per

linens,
"mercery,
total
a
: making

(^

"

"'

'*'

wines here referred to, and

formed
the chief commodity with which
to have
those of France, Spain,
concerned, were
was

appear

,/,

"

Shipman
Greece
and Syria.
of
For aught he knows, says
the poet, the Shipman was
mouth
Dartmouth
; a glance at the comparative importance of Dartthe chief maritmie
places of England, as shown
among
contributed a more
Dartmouth
above, will explainthis remark.
than any other place in England,
important total of shipsand men
with the exception of Yarmouth.
It was, no doubt, looked
on
through the country as peculiarlythe seaman's home.
Shipand
ideas probably familiar to our
men
Dartmouth, \"ere
in Chaucer's time, as sailors and Portsmouth
now.
countrymen
our

This

rank

Dartmouth

have

may

owed

to

the

convenience

of

harbour, which would accommodate

500 ships. As to Bour/^.^c*."f
leave such
to
deaux, where the Shipman has been accustomed
-.
observe
that
a
him, we may
very equivocalreputation behind
inhen
belonged to the English,and that wine is stillthe staple C '^
export of the city. The touches of character by which Chaucer
so
happilymarks all his creations are not wanting here ; the
succeeding
Shipman's ridingas well as he could, and of course
well as your true seaman
is generallyaccustomed
to succeed
as
its

"
"

'

'

"

horseback
the brown
hue, and the beard that has been
;
all show
how accurately Chaucer
shaken
a tempest,
by many
the
founded
from
he must
drew
the life how
have
ever
he drew on those that he saw.
characters
And is not the Shipof Chaucer
the true sailor of our
man
day ?
Chaucer
humorously observes,
on

"

"

"

"If

By

that he fought,and
water

he sent

them

had the
home

higher hand.

to every

land.

we
understand,with Mr. Cowden
Clarke,that Chaucer
the good felldw
all his
that the Shipman
drowned
and that that was
his way of sending them
home
to
prisoners,
life was
held cheap in Chaucer's day.
every land ! Human

By which
means

"

"

'

,(

CANTERBURY

154

THE

TALES,

ETC.

HABERDASHER,

has not attempted to

Chaucer
of portraits,
better thanhimself,
knew
none
individuality
give any
j
that in describing one
of these "warm
comfortable
men," he described all ; whilst by massing them, he
feature
stillmore
out
brought
stronglythe chief and common

this group

3N

us

^
'

"

their wealth.
"

A
A

and

Haberdasher

Webbe/

Carpenter,

Dyer, and

Tapiser,^

with us ekfe,
clothed in one
Were
livery,
Of a solemn and great fraternity.
Full fresh and new
their gearfepicked'was.
Their knivfes were
ychapfed*not with brass,
But all with silver wrought, full clean and well ;"
Their girdlesand their pouches every del.*
Well seemfed each of them
a fair burgess
To sitten in a guildhall
the dais ;
on
Every man, for the wisdom that he can,
Was
shapelyfor to be an alderman.

For cattle" hadde they enough, and rent ;

And eke their wivfes would it well assent
;
And
elles certain had they been to blame
:
It is rightfair for to be clep'dMadame
;
all before,
for to go to vigils^
a mantle
royallyybore."

And
And

have

of frank
Saxon
custom
pledge, is supposed to
of the guilds or companies ; which, with
have
been the germ
of
and
trade
the
were
developed into
commerce,
progress
influence
and
of
at
once
aiding to
;
.associations great power
The

old

and
freedom
prosperity might have been
of our
inhabitants
the
towns, and enabling
acquiredby

[preserve whatever

already

the
enhancing both, till what is now
was
fairlyestablished,
namely, the
In
of these
middle
classes.
the
of
oldest
the
London,
power
Chaucer's
that to which
Webbe
belongs, the
companies was
foundation
admirable
and
Weavers
an
they began upon, if,
;
truth with trust."
according to their motto, they sought to weave

them

to

go

steadilyon

tnightiest
power
.''./
,

..

in the

state

"

r ,.,

We

possess

Weaver.

Furnished

Every delyevery

"

The

eves

record

Maker

in

connection

of tapestry.

with

them

which

'

Picked

"

Chattels.

; spruce.

; mounted.

of

part, or every

festivals

: see

page

bit.

158.

is

TRADE

C6MMERCE,-^tHE

AND

in
interesting

HABERDASHER.

155

several

We
allude
to the
points of view.
culars
partiof a case
brought before the JusticesItinerant sittingat
of London, in the reign of Edward
the Tower
II. On
this
"
rity
were
occasion, the weavers
requiredto show, by what authothey at this time claimed to have their guild in the city,
and by virtue of the same
guild to have yearly the right ot
electingfrom amongst themselves bailiffs and ministers ; and
the same
in faithfully
elected to take and swear
to execute
so
their offices before the mayor
? By what rightalso
of London
week
claimed
hold
from
to
their
of all
courts
to week
they
that pertainedto their guild; and that none
should intermeddle
with their ministers in London, Southwark, or the parts adjadone by
permission,or that it were
cent, unless by their own
of the guild ; and
of the same
that persons
one
guild should
not
be impleaded by others of matters
concerning the mystery,
,

'

in the

of the

guild,or

be elsewhere

accused and
might
Why none
working implements in their
testified to be good and (
were
possession,unless the same
honest ; and that all of the mystery should be forced to contri- I
bute to the king'sferme ? Why
to be admitted
no
stranger was

except

answered

courts

have

manufacturer
them
without
as
a
producing letters ;
amongst
testimonial of good conduct, and
of his coming ?
the reasons
'
Why the working implements of such of the mystery as were
in arrears
of their fermes,might be distrained by the bailiffs of

why, if any one

looked
Street^he ought to be overhis
work
not
or
by the bailiffsof the guild ; whether
was
bad, and to the damage of the people ; and if so, that it
should be proved before the mayor
of London, and the offender

the guild ?
manufactured

further
It was
cloth of Candlewick

....

demanded

should
fined in half a mark
that such workmen
; and moreover
stitutions
be brought before the bailiffsof the guildaccording to the Conwhatever
cloth,or piece of cloth,should be
; and
found to be of Spanish mixed
with English wool, contrary to
'

Why
might be adjudged to be burnt ?
all
guild might sell without control in London
the
to
were
why none
things belonging
mystery? And, lastly,
at
allowed
between
Christmas
and the Purification,
to work
or
" ^
The
other
times
?
at
o
r
proscribed
night by candle-light,
of Edward
a charter
weavers
pleaded in answer
I.,in which
recited charters of Henry I. and Henry II. ; but the jury
were
decided in a great measure
leges
against them with regard to the priviclaimed, and declared that the business was managed by
"
hurt of the
and the common
the weavers
to their own
profit,
people."
proper usage,
those of the

Herbert's

....

Livery Companies,

vol. i. p. 18.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

iS6

Whilst the Weavers'

Company, however, was the oldest, that
time
been in Chaucer's
Haberdashers
to have
appears
^jjg jj^Qgj important of all the metropolitantrades associations.
of the mercers
branch
The
haberdashers
a
were
originally
;
and
dealt, like them, in small wares.
Lydgate, in his wellin London,' places
known
ballad of * Lykpenny's Adventures
of the

Vk^^o/ -^y^*^^

;j

,,,^

^Hi.tf.U'-

miscellaneous

"

.,

,,

...

:
^

'"

About
the time
of
their stalls in the * Mercery,' at Cheap.
Chaucer,
they divided into two fraternities,dedicated respecconsisttivelyto St. Catherine and St. Nicholas ; one branch
ing of the hatters or hurriers ; and the other of the dealers in

-''

"'*

'

'^

called
also
who
were
milliners,from
articles,
such
for
as
their importing Milan goods
sale,
brooches,aiglets,
Pins formed
an
important article of the
spurs, glasses,etc.
haberdashery trade at this period,having not long superseded
ladies were
made
the points or skewers
of thorns, by which
fasten
their
to
previouslyobliged
garments.
but slight
need
The
other
trades
referred to by Chaucer
comment.

'

merely of
pence

an

The
tools of a carpenter at
five pence
value
broad
axe,

adze,

two

; a

pence

Colchester

consisted

; another

axe, three

one

square,

penny

navegor

the total value

: making
(probably a spokeshave), one
penny
of his implements, one
shilling.A carpenter of the present
day, would be puzzledto perform all the variety of operations
required of him with such tools only : his chest is a somewhat
expensiveaffair. The Dyers' Company was one that possessed
of keeping swans
Some
the privilege
the Thames.
idea of
on
of
these
the respective
as
standing
companies
compared with

U'/t^;)

of the
the remainder
each other, and with
of the state of the
afforded by an examination
about the time that Chaucer
wrote.

companies

then

sending

members

the

to

each

the

haberdashers

tapisersor tapestry
weavers,
the joinersor carpenters, two
The

none.

twelve

great

makers,

and
and

; whilst

the

companies

had

The

number
council

common

which, the grocers,

London, was
48 ; among
fishmongers, goldsmiths, and vintners,were
six members

civic bodies, is

municipalrepresentation,

mercers,

entitled

of
of

drapers,
to

send

hurriers,saddlers,
barbers,four each;
sent
dyers'company

not

then

attained

their

pre-eminence.
,

.j^^
* "^
/

were
picturesquefeatures connected with civic
many
from
the class of men
whom
has selected his
Chaucer
and other tradesmen, which
haberdasher
should be glad to
we
dwell upon, did our space permit ; such as the internal organization

There

and
life,

chief
mutters

of the companies ; and the peculiarities

of their government
the control
of the JVlasters
and .Wardeiis, as the.
under
wEo liad'the
officers \vere
called
of all
management
"

relatingto

the

binding of apprentices,admission

of

and

Trad"

commerce."

the

haberdasher,

15/

of the craft,
of the rights and privileges
freemen, preservation
frauds
and
fraudulent
members
in
connection
with
detecting
their respective
arts and mysteries,
making sumptuary laws, and
who
those
came
admonishing or even punishing
shabbilydressed
the hall, arranging the elections for the common
to
council,
and
the
organizing
lastly,taxing
company's militaryresources,
mandate
when they could not resist the sovereign's
the company
him a certain sum
of money,
to send
or summoning
up all their

heroism

for

resistance, when

decline the honour

of the crown.
duties to
onerous
with

all

determined

partieswere

to

conferred upon
sities
them, of relievingthe neceswho
had such
The election of the officers,

perform, was

solemn

and

ness,
magnificentbusi-

if not all of the companies ; and

took place on
fraternities.
the
Each
different
then in
for
went
days
the morning to the church
of its favourite saint ; the whole
of
the members,
male
and
habited
and
in
their
rich
female,
picof clerks and priests,
hosts
accompanied
by
costumes,
turesque
most

different

'

in their copes and surplices,

singing; and by the entire official
and aldermen
conspicuous
body of the corporation (the mayor
scattered
the line
all
their
scarlet
over
robes),whilst,
by
glowing
from
of procession,appeared tall waxen
tapers blazing away
amidst
their "costly garnishments." Afterwards
they proceeded
in the
one

of the

state

same

most

to

luxurious

and
enjoy,

the

dinners

wealth

pay

hall of the company

; where
that art could devise,epicureanism

for,was

prepared, and

at once

is the

discussed,as
Englishwont, before proceeding to business.
Dinner over, the master
and wardens
entered
going out of office,
with garlands on their heads, preceded by minstrels playing ;
and after a littlepretty coquetry as to whose
heads among
the
assistants of the company
alwaysfound that the very

those
men

garlands would

same

determined
previously

it was
fit,
upon

were

A cup
officers then took the oaths.
The new
right
from
which the old officers
was
brought in with great ceremony,
the garland,were
drank to the health of the new
donning
; who,
welcomed
as its proper
by the whole fraternity,
enthusiastically
for
and
the
ensuing
guardians
year.
governors
rank was
the
We
learn from the poet, that the aldermanic
w
ith
citizens.
of
London's
The
aspiration
cations
qualifigreat object

the

ones.

requiredfor
of

persons

elected

as

aldermen

were,

certain

and of rent from landed

personal property,
property.
also that the person
According to Stow, It was necessary
proin
and
alderman
should
be
without
wise
defonnity
body,
posedfor
of
base
and
discreet in mind, wealthy,honourable,faithful,
no
free,
which
to him
that
no
might
happen
or servile condition
disgrace
;
thence
redound
the rest of the
of his birth,
account
on
on
might
indeed
aldermen
or the whole
city. There seems
every reason
amount

I5S

CANTERBURY

TALES,

of an alderman, were
as yet
suppose, that the titleand person
looked upon with high respect, and that its old baronial dignity
far from being forgotten. Thus, about 1350, Stow says the
was
ancient and honourable
with regard to the burial of
custom
in point ;
still observed
and
he gives a case
aldermen
was
;
'*
armed
In the church where an alderman
to be buried, one
was
with his arms, bearing in his hand a standard on a horse with
carried aloft his shield,helmet, and his other arms
trappings,
with the standard, as the manner
yet is of burying the lord

to

"

barons."
wives were
It appears from the text that aldermen's
honoured
with the title of Madame
and
that
they took precedence in
;
other public occasions.
on
attending vigils,and of course
"
It
in times past, upon
the manner
was
Speght observes,
in their
festival eves, called vigils,
for parishioners
to meet
have
fit
and
for
time.
there
the
to
a
church-houses,
drinking
There
they used to end many
quarrelsbetween neighbour and
in comely manner
hither
wives
the
came
neighbour ;
they
; and
of the better sort, had
their mantles carried with
which were
them, as well for show, as to keep them from cold at the tables.
also many
did use
in the church, at morrowmantles
times."
and
other
masses,
five City Liverymen is picturedin the
None
of Chaucer's
Ellesmere
MS., as no one tells a tale.

These

COMMERCE,"

AND

TRADE

THE

COOK'S

OF

TALE

PRENTICE,

THE

159

PRENTICE.

THE

in our city,
dwell'd whilom
he.
And of a craft of Victuallers was
in the shaw
Gaillard* he was, as goldfinch
felUw ;
Brown
a proper
as a berry,and

Prentice

'?

full fetisly.
With lockfes black,and combed
Dancen
he could so well and prettily
That he was
Perkin Revelour.*
clepfed
He was
as full of love and
paramour,

As is the
Well were

honeycomb

of

honey

sweet

the wenchfe that him mightfemeet.

At every bridal would he sing and hop ;
than the shop ;
He loved bet* the tavern
in Cheap,
For when there any riding*
was
Out of the shopp^ thither would he leap;
Till that he haddfe all that sightyseen,
And danced well,he would not come
again.
And gatheredhim a meinie' of his sort,
To hop and sing,and maken
such disport;
And there they setten steven' for to meet,
To playenat the dice in such a street.
For in the town
there no prentice
ne
was
That fairer could^ cast a pairof dice
Perkin could ; and thereto he was
Than
free
Of his dispence,in placeof privity
;8
well in his chaffare,'
That found his master
For often time he found his box full bare."
We

may

take
this

granted, that the Cook

it for

has

been

too

of ancient
London's
bold
descriptionof one
in
his
own
prentices ^perhapsthrough having
shop a particularly
bad specimen. It is certain that the far-famed integrity
severe

in
"

of trade must
have been based generallyupon
of our chief men
their trainingas apprentices;
which, however unable to prevent
habits of independent thinkingand acting,or even
of occasional
of riot and
outbreaks
have
licentiousness,must
sufficed to
those principlesof pecuniary rectitude,which
induce
were
and are
Stow says, no
indispensableto commercial
success.
made
at least admitted
into the liberty
or
was
apprentice,
one
1
*
*

Brisk.

Grove.

Tourney, joust.
where
In private,

Reveller.

"

his

Company,
expenditurewould
"

Merchandise.

'

Made

not

an

Better.

appointment.

be noticed.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

l63

known
of the city,unless he were
to be of a gentleman-like
"
condition ; or if,after he had been made
to be
free,it came
that he was
shown
of servile condition, for that very thing he
lost the freedom
of the city." About the period when
Chaucer
is supposed to have been writingthe * Canterbury Tales' (1386),
and also in the
it was
ordered that in the taking of apprentices,
of freemen, that ancient custom
admission
should be observed
thenceforward.
All matters
of quarrelsbetween
to the determination
relating
and apprentice,and the redress or punishment these
master
under
the cognizance of the
quarrelsfrequentlyinvolved,were
officers of the respectivecompanies. Here
is an illustration of
it was
desired to punish just
the working of the system when
such a prenticeas that Chaucer
describes ; one
who had been
in
connected
with
"love
and
some
faux
caught
paramour;"
pas
and who, like Chaucer's,was
too formidable
to be dealt with
Two
in any but a very careful manner.
frocks were
made, like
those commonly worn
match
and
hoods
two
to
each,
by porters,
coveringthe whole face and head, with the exception of the
The
next
court-day,two "tall men" put on
eyes and mouth.
the frocks and hoods ; and
lay quiet,while the unsuspicious
into
the
Rolls
called
room
was
parlourof the company's courtJohn
in the

in
mysterious personages
the hoods and frocks,with two pennyworth of birchen rods in
their hands
of the master
and
there, in the presence
; and
"
withouten
words
off
the
wardens,
speaking,
pulled
they
any
doublet and shirt of the said John Rolls, and there upon him
(beingnaked) they spent all the said rods, for his said unthrifty
demeanour."
On apprentices
and early London
the reader should consult
life,
'
and
of London
the late Mr. Riley's
Memorials
London
and his edition of
Life in the XI IL, XIV. and XV. Centuries,'
the Ltder Aldus, either in the original
or its translation.
;

immediatelyafter,came

COOK.

THE

(from
**

Well
He
But
That

could
couldfe

the

MS.)

draught of London
roasU, seethfe,broil,and fry.
he know

great harm
on

ELLESMERE

his shin

was
a

it,as
mormal

it seemed

hadd^

ale.

me,

he."

IPage

i6i.

TRADE

COMMERCE.-^THE

AND

COOK.

i6i

COOK.

THE

charactei* that we shall introduce to our readers is

be received with due respect,
; and that he may
illustrative
of his social imporfew
notices
we
tance
prefixa
in this country from a very earlyperiod. These
be necessarilyindirect,
notices must
as
referringrather to his
vocation than to hin). Of the Cook, historysays little; of the
banquets set forth by his skill before the highestand mightiest
next

J HE

the Cook

and eventful occasions,

fend,and on the most interesting
not
it furnishes,on the contrary, many
particulars
unworthy of
will
here
admit of.
detail
than
or
our
our
object
more
space
the 7^,"^".,
The
of cookery in this country may
he dated from
art
Saxon
disancestors
have
V/c
Norman
to
our
appear
conquest;
^,
'
rather
the
for
the
themselves
for
than
excess
tihguished
quality
^r' t*
William
whilst
of
food
the
of their
Normans, as
Malmesbury
;
expresslystates,were delicate in the choice of meats and drinks,
of the

of temperance,
bounds
and, whilst living
with
lived
also
more
elegance. John of
expensively,
ment
entertainmentions
that he was
Salisbury
present at a ^eat
served
there were
where
up the choicest luxuries of
o
f
Palestine
and Alexandria,of
and
Babylon
Constantinople,
delicacies
of course
These
Phoenicia.
and
could
Tripoli^
Syria,

exceeded

seldom

the

less

at
onlybelobtained

cboks
so

very

Eeld

by

quired
expenditure;and must have redoingthem justice.Such artistes were

great

capableof

highlyesteemed, that

estates

were

granfed them

to be

of the

of dressing a particular
dish.
One
mosT'stnklng evidences of the magnificence of the feasts of the
Norman
court, is daily before our
eyes, in that finest of
Westminster
told by
the
at
are
one
European halls,
; which, we
built by William
Rufus for his dining-room. As we
Stow, was
the

tenure

approach nearer
find the

love

to

of

of all

the

period of the

display,

or

of

^^^f'^*
'""'

fty

combined,

or
hospitality,

of

good living,

more

later bills of fare in the Earlv

*^
*.Two Fifteenth-CenturyCookery Books.
Cocorum^ * The Forme of Cury,'* The Baker's
See

some

vv'

Canterbury Tales,^ we

and more
apparent in the
of the principalnobles of
court, and of many
At the marriage feast of Richard,Earl of Cornthe country.
wall,
in 1243, thirty
dishes were
served up ; and upon
thousand
similar occasion,the marriage of Lionel, Duke
of Clarence, ^
a
the third son
of Edward
included in
were
III., thirty courses
But such enjoyments, if enjoyments they can
the bill of fare.*

perhaps
banquets of the
or

"**

English Text
See

also

Book,'etc.

Society's

Zi/er

Curt

^'^

'

CANTERBURY

l62

TALES/

be called,were
no
longer confined to the king or his nobles,or
the
lesser
to
even
gentry of the country ; for,in the seventeenth
Edward's
of
established,forbiddingany
reign,rules were
year
from
common
man
having dainty dishes at his table, or costly
drink.
a most
Cookery had indeed become
complicatedand
artificialsystem, as the details we
clearlyprove ; and
possess
the Cook,
introduced
Chaucer's
*'

himself, a

Cook

To

of

person

of the
one
as
of him
description

importance to be
is
Canterbury. Here

pilgrims to
:

"

with them

they hadden
and

boilfe chickens

sufficient

the

for the

nones,'

bones,

marrow

and galingale*.
tart,*
could he know
ale.
a draughtof London
He couldfe roastfe,
seethe,broil,and fry,
Maken
mortrewfes,and well bake a pie ;

And

poudre marchant

Well

(But great
That
For

the

In

harm

it thoughts me,

it,as

was

hadd^ he ;)
a
blanc-manger he madfe with the best,"
his shin

on

dishes

mormaP

enumerated

here

have

we

doubtless

an

of the
middle, perhaps also of the
epitome of the taste
higher classes,of the period,in cookery. Mortrewfes,we
1find from a printed MS. of the Royal Society on Ancient
brayed in a mortar,
Cookery,' consisted of pork or other meat
(in the French, une mortreuse^ and hence the name), mixed
with milk,eggs, spices,
etc.,and coloured very deep with saffron.
*

As

to

blanc-manger,for

the

famous,
'.^tt*-

"""*"

"""

it,which
the British Museum
making

need

we

we

which

only

have

it

say

found

the Cook

seems

that the
in

curious

was

ticularly
par-

followingrecipefor
littlevolume

in

Booke
bearing the title of A Proper new
be new
dated
to the
of Cookery,^and
1575, will,we
presume,
Take
and cut
a
culinaryartists of the present day :
capon
of him
the braune
alive^and parboyle the braune tyllthe
out
from the boone, and then dry him as dry as you can,
flesh come
in a fayre clothe ; then take a payre of cardes,and card him
then take a pottellof milke, and a
small as possible; and
as
and halfe a pound of rye flower,and your
pottellof creame,
"

"

and styr
it beginneth
to boyle put therto halfe a pound of beaten
sugar, and a saucer
full of roose
water, and so let it boyle tyllit be very thycke ;
then put itinto a charger tillit be colde,"etc. As it is remarked,
is a thorough judge of London
that our Cook
ale,it should
carded

bra

wen

of the capon,

and
it altogether,

1
"

set

the occasion.
Sweet cypress.
For

and

it upon

the

put all into

fyre,and

'

Gangrene.

sharp kind

of

panne,

when

flavouringpowder.

163

COOK.

THE

COMMERCE"

AND

TRADE

breweries were
in particular
that the metropolitan
esteem
;
mentioned
and the suppositionis borne out by the circumstance
by Tyrrwhitt,in his note on this passage, in his edition of the
*
of the feast given by
Canterbury Tales,'that in the accounts
ale
Warham
in
London
then priced5^.
was
Archbishop
1504,
than that of Kent.
a barrel more
has
if
We
fear the Cook
should
much
not
enjoyed, even
seem

glowing poetry of the Knight's

by the Miller and the Reeve,
which
immediatelyfollow, are evidently greatly to his taste :
the latter,
his
indeed,has scarcelyfinished,before he marked
approval very significantly
he

has

all listened

at

to, the

tale ; but the very free stories told

"

"

and

He

clawed

[orclapped]him

immediately offers,unasked,
"A

Some

littlejape that fell in

to

our

on

the back ; "

tell a tale of

city."

between
ensues
offer.
the
to

pleasantbantering now

Cook.

The
"

Host

accedes

the Host

and

the

tell on, Roger,and look that it be good ;

For many
letten blood,
z. pasty hast thou
thou sold
of
hast
And many
Dover*
a Jack
That hath been twi^s hot and twi^s cold ;
Of many
a
pilgrimhast thou Christy's curse,
For thy parsleythey faren yet the worse,
That they have eaten with the stubble-goose
;
Now

For

Now
But

ihy shop is many a flifeloose.

tell on, gentleRoger, by thy name

in

yet, I pray

thee,be

not

wrath

for game
;
and play.

man
say full sooth in eame
may
Thou
say'stfull sooth,quoth Roger, by m}' fay.
the Fleming saith ;
But sooth play qtiade
as
pla^,*
And therefore,Harry Bailly,
by thy faith.
Be thou not wroth,ere we
departenhere.
Though that my tale be of an hosteler."

tale begun by the Cook, but left unfinished,

The
as
though
much
of his habits,relates
for one
too
the mental exertion was
of whom
learn littlemore
than the
we
to a dissolute apprentice,
have already transcribed.
which we
character
The
of the
pilgrimscontinue their journey ; the tales,now
of the deepest pathos, follow in regular
broadest
humour, now
1

Pie.
Bad

play, Mr, Tyrrwhitt,on the strengthof a singlemanuscript,

the
line by givingtwo Flemish words^-sooth play,
or
spoils
quadesfel^
2

bad

play.

CANTERBURY

i64

TALES.

intellectual enjoyments alone are far from satisfactory

He accordingly applieshimself to a more
to the Cook.
substantial pleasure: what this
to
accustomed, and,
him, more
At the conclusion
of the
is,the ensuing extracts will show.
Nun's Priest's tale,the Host
looking back, sees the Cook fast
asleepupon his horse :
succession

; but

"

"

Then
And

'gan our Host^

saide,Sirs,what

Is there

That
A

no

ne

for hire

all behind

fellow

our

is in the mire.

Dun

for prayere

man

will awake
he

bind.*

and

rob
might full lightly

thief him

See, how

jape and play ;

for to

for Godd^s

nappeth,see,

bones

!
his horse at ones
:
Is that a cook of London, with mischance
?
Do him come
forth ; he knoweth
his penance ;
For he shall tell a talfe,
by my fay,
That

he will fall6 from

Although it be not worth a bottle hay.*

Awake, thou Cook, sit up ! God give thee sorrow
What
aileth thee to sleepenby the morrow
?
Hast thou had fleas all night,or art thou drunk
is awakened,

He

looking"

full pale,"
and

!
?

"

himself by

excuses

saying,
"
"

there

N'ot

Than

The
way

Host

is

fall on

I nat

the best

me

heaviness,
liever sleep,
that is in Cheap."

were

gallonwine

has determined
the
; but

of penance

task for

such

me

why,'that

that

he

Manciple

shall now
offers to

tell a tale by
undertake
that

him, saying,
"

See how
As

gapeth,lo,this

he

though

he would

us

drunken
swallow dnon

wight,
rightI

Hold close thy mouth, man, by thy father kin 1

The devil of hellfeset his foot therein !
Thy cursfed breath infecten will us all.
Fye, stinkingswine ! foul may thee fell.
Ah ! taketh heed,Sirs,
of this lustyman.

Now,

sweetfe

Thereto,me

Sir,will ye joustat the fan ?

thinks,ye be rightwell yshape."j

It is but too true," the Cook

the jibesof the Manciple,and
1

The

pilgrimswere

haunted.
Bundle of hay.

in

Blean

is drunk
his

own

; and

at

to
inability

Forest,close

to

"

Nor

know

answer

him

which
Canterbury,

robbers
2

last,vexed by

why.

TRADE

AND

in his present
horse :

Cook,

**he*gan

state,

nod

COOK.

fast,"and

165

fell from

his

him up-took:
lay,tillthat men
"ir chevachie ^ of a cook !
Alas ! that he n'ad held him by his ladle 1
in his saddle,
And ere that he aeain were
both6
There was
to and fro.
great shoving
and woe."
To lift him up, and muchel
care

"

The

THE

COMMERCE."

he

Whereas
This was

Host
now
will
be
day,

humorous

another

reminds

the Manciple that the

for this. " I mean," he

revenged

says,
"

As

for to
That were

He speaken will of smalls things,

pinchen at thy reckonings,

honest, if it came

not

to

proof."

officer who
had
the care
of purchasmg
an
had
have
transactions
inn
of
with
might
an
court,
He
is
all
not very creditable.
frightened,at
events,

Manciple, as

The

victuals for
the Cook

"

"

I will not

him,

all

so

I thrive ; "

may

determines

judgment,

admirable

and, with
peace

wrath

how

to

make

:
"

I have

A draught of wine,

here in a gourd
yea, of a rip6grape ;

And rightanon
ye shall see a good jape.
if I may
This Cook
shall drinks thereof,
;
Up* paineof death,he will not say me nay.
And
to tellen as it was,
certainly,
Of this vessel the Cook drank fast (alas!
needeth

What

This

it ?

after

medicine

was

he drank

"

enough before)."

Bailly's own

Harry

heart ; who

began
"

to

laughen wondrous

loud,

And said,* I see well it is necessdry

Where
that we go, good drink with us to carry ;
and disease
For that will tumen
rancour
and
and
To accord
a wrong
love,
many
appease.
O

thou

That

so

Bacchus

"

yblessedbe thy

turnen

and

thanks

Worship
But the Host
So he
heroics.

canst

remembers

thy deity.'

is

abruptly concludes

Of that mattdre
^

ye get

no

Chivalric

gettingsomewhat
by observing,

more

from

expedition.
P

"

be to

he

name.

into game

earnest

me."

into the

CANTERBURY

i66

TALES.

that the Cook kept a shop in the metropolis;

have seen
informed.
In the time of Henry II.,a
not
but where we
are
establishments
favourite place for such savoury
the banks
was
of the Thames, in the neighbourhood of London
Bridge.
"
There is in London," says Bccket's Secretary,Fitz-Stephen,
"
of cookery, between
the river's bank, a publicplace
the
upon
laid
in
wines
cellars
and
laden
with
the
be
to
wine,
ships
up
for
dish
of meat, roast, fried,or
call
sold. There ye may
any
small and
sodden ; fish,both
great ; ordinary flesh for the
daintyfor the rich,as venison and fowl.
sort, and more
poorer
with travel,to a citizen's
If friends come
on
a sudden, wearied
for
be
wait
curious
and
loth
to
preparations and
house,
they
We

servants
give them water to wash,
their
in the mean
time go to
and
to stay
stomach,
the water
for
side,where all things are at hand answerable
multitude either of soldiers or other
their desire.
Whatsoever
into the cityat any hour, day or night,or else
strangers enter
about
to
turn
in,bait there,and refresh
are
depart,they may
themselves
and not
to their content, and so avoid long fasting,
their
without
dinner.
desire
If
fittheir
to
dainty
any
go away
other
or
tooth, they need not to long for the ctccipenser
any
of Ionia.
This publicvictualling
bird ; no, not the rare Godwit
^
place is very convenient,and belongs to the city."
In the Ellesmere
MS. the bare-legged and bare-headed
Cook
has in his righthand
his black hat, in his left the three-hooked
with
which
he
pullshis jointsout of the pot. On his
prong
and
knee
leg are the mormals, dead-evils or sores, which
Chaucer
names.

dressings of fresh meat, the

and

bread

Stow*s

translation.

(from
*

ELLESMERE

the

full

Wympled

well, and

Of
For

on

hir

remedies
of that

feet

on

MS.)
hir head

hat
.

hippos large,
of
pair spurr"s sharpe.

"ipot-mant^l about

And

BATH.

OF

WIFE

THE

her

of love, she knew

perchance,
dance."
oldfe
the
knew
she
art

[Pa^j 167.

AND

TRADE

THE

WIFE

OF

WIFE

OF

BATH.

167

BATH.

character of " this fair but not bashful

of Bath, is
calls the Wife
Todd
Mr.
as
pilgrim/'
by the artist of the drawing in the
happily shown
Ellesmere
manuscript,who represents her, like the
Prioress and the Nun, on horseback
; but not, like them, who,
But the Prioress rides on
in
modern
the
are
riding
ladies,
way.
She
is astride her horse,
the off (orright)side of her horse.
the
At the. same
like a man.
time the artist has remembered
and has accordinglyrepresented her with a very
Wife was
fair,
winning countenance, which is advantageously set' off by her
remarkably largeand broad black hat. Her wimple of keri^hiefs
is not unlike what we should call a mob-cap.
Her fote-mantel,
into
is
is
divided
and
or outer
baggy trowser-like
petticoat, blue,
the hips by a
continuations.
Her
is bound
round
red gown
her
it
from
which
falls
feet,so as to hide
over
golden girdle,
"
hosen."
of her spurs alone is there visible.
the scarlet
One
and she holds in her hand
The stirrup
of her saddle is gilded,^
From
such a pictureour readers will expect an original
a whip.
the Wife
of Bath, as
of some
wealth and consequence
; and
them :
has described her, will not disappoint
Chaucer
masculine

[HE

THE

COMMERCE."

there of besidfe Bath ;

scathe* ;
But she was
somdel deaf,and that was
Of cloth-makingshe hadd6 such a haunt,'
She passed them of Ipresand of Ghent.
there none,
In all the parish,
wife ne was
That to the off'ring
before her should gone ;

"A

'

in

a
*

Wife

was

And if there did,certain so wroth was

she,
That she was
then out of all charity.
Her coverchiefs weren
full fine of ground,
I durstfe swear
they weighedenten pound,'
That on a Sunday were
upon her head.
Her hosen weren
of fine scarlet red,
Full strait ytied,and shoes full moist* and new.
and red of hue.
Bold was
her face,and fair,
She was
all her live ;
a worthy woman
Husbands
at churchfe-door she had had five,
in youth ;
Withouten
other company
thereof
But
needeth not to speak as nouthe."

^ Hurtful
bad.
or
33.
Fresn,supple. In the Manciple'sprologuewe have
fresh from old ale.
similar sense to distinguish
Now.

See

good

note, p.
previous

"

Ae

Custom.
word used

Digitizedby VjOOQ
^

IC

CANTERBURY

i68

TALES.

thrifeshad she been at J'rusalem,

stream.
She hadde passed many
a strangfe
she had been, and at Bologne,
At Romfe
In Galice at St. James, and at Cologne ;
of wandering by the way.
She couldfe* much
she soothlyfor to say.
Goat-toothfed was
she sat,
ambler
an
easily
Upon
and
her head a hat,
full
on
well,^
Wimpled
buckler
broad
is
or
As
a
a targe.
as
A foot-mantel* about her hippos large;
And on her feet a pair of spurrfessharp.

And

well could she laugh and carp.

In fellowship
Of remedies of love she knew perchance,
the oldfe dance."
For of that art she knew
,

need

scarcelyobserve,was formerly very famous for

The
cloth chieflymade
in England at
its cloth manufacture.
of
which
coarse
this early periodwas
a
was
kind,
produced in
usual to
sufficient quantityto export : the finer cloths it was
In
from
1261
Flanders.
made
an
import, chiefly
attempt was
the
III.
to
of
and
exportation
wool,
English
by Henry
prevent
manufacture
of
alone
in
this
cloth
to be used
English
to cause
after a scarcityof woad
Soon
country, but with little success.
the
and
of
unusual
for the purposes
dyeing occurred,
spectacleof
wealth dressed in cloth of the natural colour
persons of rank and
about the streets of our large towns.
The
of the wool, was
seen
de
of
Simon
this
plicity
simadmirer
Montfort,
was
an
baron,
great
accustomed
in dress, and was
to maintain
that foreign
His
Edward
was
commerce
I.,appears
unnecessary.
conqueror,
similar
and
have
had
to
to have
views,
adopted very vexatious
into effect ; such, for instance,as
of carrying them
modes
Bath, we

order that all foreign merchants

should
sell their
goods within forty days after their arrival.
In Chaucer's
III. made
lifetime,Edward
an
equally petty
when
he insisted upon
and annoying regulation,
a
prescribed

issuingan

being adopted for all foreign cloths wherever

made,
and directed his " aulnagers " to seize for his use all those that
measure

From
the littletrait
should be found of different dimensions.
of the Wife's character given in the lines referringto her want
of charity,if any of her female
neighbours ventured to take
"
"
precedence in going to offerings or (no doubt) elsewhere,we
be sure
the Wife of Bath would look with no very favourable
may
these foreign interlopers
though she
; indebted
eyes on
1
*
'

was.

Knew.
Well covered
See the cut.

about the neck with her wimple.

It is the onlyknown
for what
authority

foot-mantle

AND

TRADE

THE

COMMERCE."

WIFE

OF

BATH.

169

with all of her trade, to a couple of foreigners,

manufacture
of the English woollen
for the great extension
which took place in the early part of the fourteenth century.
most
III. having made
Edward
advantageous offers to foreign
from Brabant
came
over
cloth-workers and others,two weavers
in 1331, and settled at York.
By their superiorskill,and by
was,

in

common

what
to communicate
they knew to others,a
willingness
and industry.
native
talent
to
was
given
great impulse
the Wife of Bath has ( ^
of husbands
In mentioning the number
old marriage I
curious
refers
to
a
the
had,
poet incidentally
custom.
Formerly the bride and bridegroom stayed at the
church porch duringthe earlier portionof the ceremony
; and

their

till the clergyman had read the part which is now

followed by his going up to the altar and repeatingthe psalm,
that they entered the sacred edifice. "At the southern entrance
"
of Norwich
cathedral,"says Warton, a representationof the
"
for
is
carved in stone ;
of marriage,
espousals,or sacrament
a
nd
the
priest,
of the couple were
here the hands
joined by
great part of the service performed. Here also the bride was
ad ostium ecclesiae. This
called Dos
with what was
endowed
is exhibited in a curious old pictureengraved by Mr.
ceremony
ing
Walpole; where King Henry VI. is married to his queen, standGothic
at the fa9ade or western
portal of a magnificent
it was

not

The
church.
the church

entire form

of

matrimony also,as

celebrated

in certain Missals referring

and Salisbury.
of
Hereford
cathedrals
the
to
respectively
should consult the
of
Wife
Bath*s
of
the
Prologue
Readjers
*
its
Essays on
Rev. W. Woollcombe*s
on
sources, in the
paper
The
Chaucer
1876.
Part
poet very
Society,
III.,
Chaucer,'
gian's
theololearned
inversion
of
into
her
mouth
a
an
cleverlyputs
of
her
For
tale,
analogues
arguments againstmarriage..
*
of
of
some
and
Analogues
the Chaucer
Society's Originals
see
at

Chaucer's

door, is described

CanterburyTales,' Part V., 1887,p. 481-522.

-^u**'

y
^"^

THE

TALES.

C9"

[For the 'Originalsand

the volume
Most

with

of Chaucer's

that

Analogues

title among

Tales

come,

the

of the

issues

like other

Canterlury Tales ^

of the

men's,from

Chaucer
the

see,

Society,

East.]

THE

NCE)

old

as

his

not

he

and

his

to

duke

ride

to

And,

weddedfe

if it

certes,

by Theseus
upon
and

his

all

occasion

the

temple
at

feast

the

chivalry,

faire

the

her

on

and

this

that

great

of
of

the
the

worthy

beside

I would

hear,

him.

was

battle

great

told

have

Amazons

and

with

solemnity.
this

leave

hosts

to

home

the

won

fought

Amazons,

at

her

home.

wedding,
from

But

all

and
this

of

the

I must

wot,

is

largfefield

the

be

in

oxen

long

plough.

my

enough.

I made

of whom

ear,'

lo

mention,

was

come

almost

town,
In

The

telling

tale

duke,

He

Amazons

Hypolita
of Scythia,

queen

coming

weakfe

of my

remnant

to

Athenians

place

God

have,

And

the

chivalry,

forbear.
I

When

hardy

took

that

erected

present

The

many

his

Emily,

armed

country

was

of

was

besieged

how

The

and

the

and

glory

long

too

betwixt

of

who,

there
won

and

melody,

all his

the

manner

and

that
had

sister

young

with

with

were

and

Hypolita,

much

not

Athens,

wisdom

realm

queen

her

and

of

named

"

with

Athens,

to

the

the

also

victory

fully in what

you

all

Scythia,

He

sun.

his

duke

was

conqueror,

the

With

country,

own

with

thus

And

under

conquered

her, and

brought

him

governor

such

was

greater

And

tell, there
and

country.

called

formerly

was

lord

time,

rich

stories

the

Theseus,
in

TALE.

KNIGHTS

his

all his
was

weal,

'ware,

Knight, as well
tale, speaks in

as

the

and

as

each

in

he

of

cast

the

first person.

his

mostfe

his

other

eye

pride,
aside,
Canterbury
pilgrims,
^ To
plough.

in

TALES.

CANTERBURY

174
Where

that there kneelM

in the highfe
way
of
ladies,
tway and tway,
company
Each after other,clad in clothes black.
But such a cry, and such a woe
they make,

this world there is

another lamentation.

that
such

in

of
And
seized the reins of his bridle.

tillthey had

cease

livingthat ever
this cry they would

creature

no

heard
never

foflc
be ye, that at my coming home, so perturb my
crying? " quoth Theseus. " Have ye such great envy
that ye thus complain and cry ?
honour
Or who hath

"

What
feast with
of mine
harmed
and

or

why ye

lady

Tell me, if that it may

be amended
;
thus clothed in black.'' Then
spake the oldest

offended
are

of them

you.

all,

When
That
And

she had

swoonfed with a deadlycheer

ruthfe for to see or hear ;
Forttine hath given
said^," Lord, to whom
it

was

to liven,
Victory,and as a conqueror
Nought grievethus your glory and hondur,
But we l^seechen mercy and succdur.

and our distress !

our
woe
on
of
Some
pity through thy gentleness
drop
let thou fall ;
Upon us wretched women
of us all
For certes,Lord, there n*is none

Have

mercy

she n' hath

That
Now

we

been

caitives,*

be

as

duchess
it is well

or

queen

seen

Thankfed be Fortune
That

none

estate

and her falsfewheel

ensureth to be wele.*

And, certes, Lord, to abide your presence here in this temple

night
of the goddess Clemency, we have been waiting full this fort;

help us, Lord, since

Now

it is in

thy might.

I,wretched wight,that weep and wail thus,was

;
King Capaneus that perishedat Thebes

once

wife to

cursfed be that day 1

And allfewe that be in this array
And raaken all this lamentatioun.
losten all our husbands
We
at the town,
there abouten lay ;
While that the siegfe

and

yet

cityof

now,

alas the while

1 the old Creon

"

who

is lord of the

Thebes,"
Fulfilledof ire,and of
He

to do the dead

for

and
despite,

bodies
1

of all our

Wretches.

iniquity,
"

for his

t)rranny,

slaughtered lords
*

Well.

dishonour,

KNIGHTS

THE

TALE,

hath

drawn them upon a heap, and will

assent, either to be buried^ or burnt,

not

175
suffer

them, by

no

"

But

maketh

hound^s

eat

them

in

despite."

And
with that word, without more
respiteof their grief,they
fall flat upon
the ground, and
piteously,**Have some
cry
on
us
mercy
!
wretched
women
And let our sorrow
sinken in thine heart."
This gentleduke down from his courser
start
With hearth piteous,
when he heard them speak ;
Him
thoughts that his hearts would^ break,

when

he

been of such great estate

those who
had once
saw
so
and
in
condition.
And
took
he
them
all
so pitiable
a
dejected
them, in full good intent,and
up in his arms, and comforted
his oath, as he was
true
swore
a
knight,that he would do to
the utmost
the tyrant Creon,
of his power
to be avenged upon
so

That all the people of Greecfe should^ speak

How
Creon was of Theseus yservfcd,
As he that hath his death rightwell deservfed
And rightanon
without any abode
and forth he rode
His banner
he displayeth,
To

No

nearer

would
Nor
But

and

sent

Thebes

ward, and

he go to

all his host beside.

Athens,

take his easfe fullyhalf a

his way, that

onward, on

Hypolita the

bright,to dwell

day ;
night he

queen, and her young

in the town
And
of Athens.

lay;
sister,Emily the
forth he rides.

The red stattie of Mars with spear and targe,

So shineth in his whit^ banner
large,
That all the field^s g^litteren
up and down.
his pennon.
And by his banner,borne was
Of gold full rich,in which there was
ybeat
The Minotaur ,2which that he slew in Crete.
* We
cannot
better illustrate the views of the ancients on the subject
of the burial of dead bodies,than by observing,that one of the greatest
of one
of the greatest of tragedians,' The
tragedies
Antigone of
turns
entirelyupon the misery and ruin brought on by
Sophocles,'
the refusal of a king of Thebes
of the rites of burial to a nephew,
because he had been a traitor to his country. That king was
Creon ;
the
that
Chaucer
refers
to.
man
probably
very same
* That
is to say, we presume, there was
impressed on the gold,by
the htai of the hammer, a representation
of the Minotaur.

TALES,

CANTERBURY

176
Thus
And

rode this duke

^thus rode this conqueror,

"

chivalrythe flower,
and alight
he came
to Thebfes,
where
he
as
field,
thoughtto fight.

in his host of

Till that
Fair in a

But, shortlyto speak of this matter, he

the

king

of

fought with

Creon,

Thebes,

-and slew him, manly, as a knight

plain^battel,and put his folk to flight,
'And by assault he won
the cityafter.
In

both

wall,and spar, and rafter ;

And

rentfe down

And

to the ladies he restor'd again

that were
bodies of their husbands

The
To do

as
obsequies,

was

then the

slain,

guise.

and
all too long to describe the great clamour
But it were
which the ladies made
the lamentation
at the burning of the
honour
the
that
and
Theseus, the noble conqueror,
bodies,
great
It is my
the ladies,when
doth
to
they depart from him.
intent to tell my
tale shortly.
When
that this worthy duke, this Theseus, hath slain Creon
and won
Thebes,
Still in the field he took all

And
and

he did

as

he

pleasedwith

night his

rest.

all the country. After the battle

did their business ; they ransacked

discomfiture,the pillagers
of
in
of
their
order to stripthem
the heap
dead bodies,
and garments.
And it so befell that they found in the
armour
a
bloody grievous wound,
heap, piercedthrough with many
each
kind
of
in the same
two
lyingby
knights,
other,
young
which
full
Of
these
was
was
richlywrought.
armour,
two, one
named
Arcite,the other Palamon,
Not
But

fullyquick^nor fullydead they were ;

by their coat armour, and by their gear

them
of the royal
the heralds knew
well, as those who were
of
and
bom
sisters.
two
blood of Thebes,
The
have
pillagers
them out of the heap, and have carried them
torn
softlyinto
he
the tent of Theseus
and
full
sends
them
to Athens,
soon
;
take no ransom.
to dwell in perpetualprison : he would
And
the worthy duke had done
when
he
took
his
thus,
host, and
rode home
immediately.
With laurel crownfed as a conqueror.
And there he liveth in joy,and in honour,
of his life ;
Term
1

Open.

Alive.

KNIGHTS

THE

And
in a tower, in woe
Arcite for evermore
: no

and

TALE.

in

gold

may

I77

anguish,dwell

Palamon

and

release them.

Thus passethyear by year, and day

Till it fell onfes in a morrow
of May,
That Emily, that fairer was
to seen

by day,

Than
is the lily,
her stalkfegreen.
on
And fresher than the May with floweres new,
(For with the rosfe-colour strove her hue,
I n'ot^ which was
the finer of them two) ;
Ere it was
day, as she was wont to do.
She was
arisen,and all ready dight,*
For May will have no sluggardya-night;
The season
prickethevery gentleheart,
him out of his sleepfe
And maketh
start.
And
saith " Arise,and do thine observance
!"
This maked
Emily have remembrance
To do hon6ur to May, and for to rise.
Yclothfed was
she fresh for to devise.
braided in a tress.
Her yellow hair was
1 guess.
Behind
her back, a yard" loi"g"
And in the garden at the sun uprist
She walketh up and down where as her list.
She gatherethflowers,partlywhite and red,
To make a subtle garland for her head ;
And as an angel,heavenly she sung.

thick and
so
tower, that was
strong, and that
the chief dungeon of the castle in which these knights
imprisoned,of which I told you, and yet shall tell you,
evenlyjoinedto the wall of the garden, where

The
formed
were
was

great

this

Emily

had

her

plajrlng.

the sun, and clear the morning ; and Palamon, the

prisoner,by leave of his gaoler, was risen,as was his
in a chamber
roamed
on
high, from which
; and he

Bright was
woeful
custom

he

could

see

all the
the

city,and

garden, full of

also
branches

green.
There as the freshfe Emily,the sheen,*
in her walk, and roamfed up and down.
Was
This sorrowful
prisoner,this Palamon,
Goeth in the chamber, roaming to and fro,
of his woe,
And to himself complaining;
That he was
bom, full oft he said Alas !

And

it so befell by

adventure,or by chance,

That through a window

thick,and many
Of iron great, and square as any spar,
*

Know

not.

Dressed.

bar

Bright.

178

CANTERBURY

TALES,

He cast his eyn upon Emilia,

therewithal he blent,*
And
and cried " Ha 1"
As that he stungen were
the heart.
unto
And with that cry Arcite anon
up start,
And said" ; " Cousin
mine, what aileth thee.
That art so paleand deadly for to see ?
Why criedst thou ? who hath thee done offence?
For Godd"s love, take all in patience
Our prison; for it may none
other be ;
Fortune hath given us this adversity
:
Some
wick*d aspect or disposition
Of Saturn,by some
constellation,

Hath

given

us

this

:
"

that we were
So stood the heaven when
bom.
We
endure ; this is the short and plain."
must
This Palamon
answ^r'd,and said again,
*'
forsooth
of this opinion
Cousin,
has a vain imagination.
Thou
This prison causfed me
not for to cry ;
But I was
hurt rightnow
thoroughmine eye
Into mine heart ; that will my ban^ be.
The fairness of the lady that I see,
*Yond
in the garden, roaming to and fro,
Is cause
of all my cryingand my woe
:
I no't whe'r she be woman
or goddess,
is it,soothly,"
I guess."
But Venus
as

therewithal he fell down

And

on

his

knees, and said,

"

Venus, if it be your will,

this
in
You,
garden,thus to transfigure
sorrowful wretched creature.
Before me
of this prison,help that we may 'scape.
if so be, our destinybe shape "
By Sterne word to dien in prison,
have some
Of our lin'ige
compassion
That is so low ybroughtby tyranny."
And with that word Arcitfe *gan espy
this ladyroamfed to and fro.
Where
as
with that sighther beauty hurt him
And
so,
That if that Palamon
wounded
was
sore,
Arcite is hurt as much
as he, or more.
And with a sighhe saidfe piteously,

Out
And

The freshfebeauty slay'tn

me
suddenly
her that roameth
yonder in the place;
And but I have her mercy, and her grace.
That I may
see
her,at the leasts way,
but dead, there n' is no more
I n* am
to say.**
"

Of

"

Stoppedsuddenly.

Truly.

"

Shaped" determined.

KklGHTS

tHE
When

heard

Palamon
"

these

TALK,

and
words, he looked fiercely,

Whether

**

say*stthou in earnest or
Nay," quoth Arcite, in earnest
"

God help me, I

to knit nis brows
"

little inclined

am

\t^

to

in
in

said,

**

play ?
good fay;*

sport." Palamon

began

"

were," auoth he, to thee no great lionour,

For to be false,
for to be trait6r
ne
To me, that am
thy cousin and thy brother,
Ysworn
full deep,and each of us to other,
for to dien in the pain
That never
Till that the death departen'shall us twain,
"

It

"

"

"

Neither of us in love to hinder other,

Ne in none
brother ;
other case, my lieffe*
But that thou shouldest trulyfurther me
In every case, as I shall further thee ;
This was
thine oath,and mine also,certain ;
I wot rightwell,thou dar'st it not withsain :
Thus art thou of my
counsel,out of doubt ;
And now
be about
thou wouldest falsely
I love and serve,
To love my lady,whom
And ever
shall until mine heartfe sterve.*
Now
certes,false Arcite,thou shalt not so :
I lov*d her first,
and toldfe thee my woe
As
To
For
To
Or

Arcite

counsel and to brother sworn,

further me, as I have told befom
;
which thou art ybounden as a knight
helpen me, if it lie in thy might ;
elles art thou false,I dare well say.*'

to my

spake again full proudly,

Thou
shalt,'*
quoth he, " be rather false than I ;
I tell thee
And thou art false,
utterly;
then thou.
Y ox par amour^' I loved her first,
wilt thou say ?
What
"

"

Thou

dost

not

yet know

Whether
she be a woman
or godddss :
Thine is affection of holiness,
And mine is love as of a creature.
For which I toldfe thee mine ddventure.
As to my cousin,and my brother sworn.
"

Faith.
That is to say, never
though death
result of their mutual devotion.

^to dien

"

Part,separate.

Hence
debased in its

the

modern

English

Dear.

word

applicationparamour.
"

"

that has

in the

pain

be

the

graduallybecome

so

"

Die.

CANTERBURY

I"0

Suppose

that thou

even

TALES.

didst love her first :

Wott'st thou not well, the olde clerkfes' saw*

Who
shall give a lover any law ?
That
"

By

my

is agreater

head, Love
; and

earthly

man

therefore

law

than

may
positivelaw, and

be

given for

any

such decree

alway for love,in each degree.

needfes love,maugre^ his head ;
must
nought flee it,though he should be dead,
she maid or widow, or ellfeswife,

Is broke
A

man

He may
All be

that calls it forth. And, also,it is not likely

that in all thy life
thou shalt be able to stand in her favour ; no more
shall I ;
thou knowest
well that thou and I be condemned
to perpetual

prison

"

we

We

gain

no

strive

They

ransom

as

do

fought all

the houndfes

day, and

for the bone :

yet their part was

none

There came
a
kit^,while that they were
wroth,
And bore away the bone betwixt them
both :
And therefore at the king^s court, my brother,
for himself : there is none
Each man
other."
for I love, and
Love if thee list,*
aye shall ;
And soothly,levfe brother,this is all.
Here in this prison musten
we
endure.
And every of us take his ddventure."

the strife,
and long,betwixt
these two, if I had
Great was
but leisure to describe it. But to the effect :
It happened on
Duke
named
that
a
a
worthy
Perithous,who had been
day,
from the day that they had
Theseus
companion 'to the Duke
to Athens
to visit him,
been littlechildren,came
for to play as he was
wont
to do ;
in this world he lovfed no man
so.
And he lov'd him as tenderlyagain.
So well they loved,as old6 bookes sain,*
That when that one was
dead,soothlyto tell,
and sought him down
His fellow went
in hell ;
But of that story list me
to write.
not
And

For

Duke
Thebes
without

Perithous
year

any

by

loved

year

ransom,

Arcite

him at
well, and had known
at his request and prayer,
; and finally,
Theseus
let Arcite out of prison,to go

of Philosophy,'
In Boethius's ' Consolations
which Chaucer
and from which he has frequentlyborrowed
in his own
^ In
of.
works.
spite
"

"

None

other

rule.

""

Please

or

desire.

Say,

lated,
trans-

original

"THE

KNIGHTS

TALE.

iSt

this was
standing
the previous underand Arcite ; that if it so were
Theseus
that
in his life found,by day or night,one
Arcite were
ever
moment,
in any country of Theseus, and he were
lose
he
should
caught,
his head.
other remedy nor
Arcite
There
counsel.
was
no
takes his leave,and speeds homeward.
Let him beware
; his
lies
in pledge.
neck

freely where

he

pleased.

But

between

How
The

He
To
He
Now
Now

great

suffereth

sorrow

he feeleth

now

Arcite !

his heartfesmite

death
through
weepeth,waileth,crieth piteously;
slayhimself he waiteth privily.
said
Alas,the day that I was born
than was
is my
beforn
prisonworse
is me
to dwell
shaped*eternally
"

"

in the purgatory, but in hell.

I knew
Alas ! that ever
Perithous,
For ellfeshad I dwelt with Theseus
Yfettered in his prisonevermo' ;
Then had I been in bliss and not in \vo2 ;
Only the sightof her whom that I serve,

Nought

Though

that her

gracfeI

may

not

deserve,

Would
have sufficed rightenough for me.
*
O dearfe cousin Palamon,' quoth he,
*
of this adventure.
Thine is the victory
in prisonto endure :
Full blissfully
In prison ? Nay, certes, but in Paradise !
Well hath Fortiine yturnfedthee the dice,
That hath the sightof her, and I th' absence
For

is,since
possible

thou

hast her presence,

chance, since
worthy knight,that by some
thou
some
time, to thy
changeable,
mayest attain,
I that am
But
desire.
exiled,and barren of all grace, and in
such great despair that there is neither earth, water, fire,
nor
heal
that is made
from them, that may
me
air,nor creature
well
in
this
I
in
to
comfort
perish
me
ought
or
matter,
my
and

able and

art an

is

Fortune

"

despair
and
Farewell

and
life,

my

Alas, why do folk complain

all my
so

distress ;

jolynessI

commonly

of God, or of Fortiine,
Of purveyances
full oft in
That giveth them
many a guise
Well better than they can themselves devise ?
Some
desireth for to have richdss,
man
is of his murder, or great sickness ;
That cause
'

Destined.

ordination.
Providence,predestination,

Canter^burv

i82
And
That

would

man

some

We

faren

what

nev^r
as

drunken

of his

prison fain^
slain ;

be in this matt^re

Infinite harmfes
wot

out

is of his menie^

in his house

We

tale$.

thing we

he that drunk

here.

prayen

is

as

well he hath

wot

man

mouse
a

house,

which is the rightway thider,

not
he knows
the way
is slidei^
man
to a drunken
;
in this world so faren we
:
certes
seeken fast aftdr felicity,

But
And
And

We

Thus
all say ; but
we
but, truly,full often we go wrong.
may
had
who
and
a
believed,
I,
great opinion,that if I
especially

might escape
health,whereas
not

may

see

remedy."
Palamon,

you,

should 1 be in joy and perfect

exiled from my happiness. Since I
I am
but as one
dead : there is no

prison,then

from

am

now

Emily,

he knew
that Arcite was
the other side, when
that
the
such
resounded
with
tower
sorrow
great
gone,
The
his shins were
his yelling and clamour.
very fetters on
with his salt and bitter tears.
wet
on

maketh

"

Alas," quoth he, Arcita,cousin mine,

God wot, the fruit is thine.
Of all our strife,
in Thebes
Thou
walkest now
at thy large.
"

And

Thou
assemble
war

on

of my

mayest,

woe

since

thou

givestlittlecharge.

thou

all the people of

this country, that by

our
some

hast

wisdom

and

kindred, and make

adventure

or

manhood,
so

sharp a

treaty

Thou

mayst her win to lady and to wife,

that I must
For whom
needfes lose my life.
For as by way of possibility
Since thou art at thy large,of prisonfree.
And
art a lord,great is thine idvantage

is mine, that starve* here in a cage.

and wail,while that I live.
weep
With
all the woe
that prisonmay me
give.
And
with
eke
pain that love me giv'thalso.
and my
That doubleth all my torment
woe."
Therewith
the fire of jealousyup start
Within his breast,and hent* him by the heart
So woodly,*that he like was
to behold
The box tree, or the ashes dead and cold.
said he, " O godd^s cruel that govern
Then
This world,with binding of your word et^m',
More
For

than

I may

Gladly.

Perish.

Attendants.
Seized.

Slippery treacherous.
Frenziedly.
"

TALE.

KNIGHTS

THE

183

And

writen in the table of adamant,

and your eternal grant,
parliament^
mankinds
unto
more
IS
you hold
is the sheep that rouketh^ in the fold ?
For slain is man
rightas another beast,
And dwelleth dee in prisonand arrest,

Your
What
Than

hath

And
And

sickness and

great adversity,"
pardd.*
guilt^less,

often timfes

What

is in your

governance

prescience
innocence,

tormenteth
That, guiltfcless,

all this my pain, that man

to observe, for God's
sake, to check his own

that

and

"

bound

increases

even

"

must

be

will,
There as
And when
But

all his lust fulfil?

beast

may
beast is

dead, he

aft^r his death

man

in this world

Though

hath

must

no

weep

and

pain.
plain,

and woe
care
:
Wi thou ten doubts,it may standen
so.
The answer
of this lete"* I to divfnes.
But well I wot, that in this world great pine is.
Alas ! I see
That many

a
a

he havfe

serpent or a thief,
trul man
hath done mischief,

large,and where him lust* may turn.

be in prison through Satiirn,
I must
eke through Juno, jealous,
and eke wood,^
hath destroyedwell nigh all the blood
That
Of Thebfes,
with his wast^ wallas wide.
And Venus
slay'thme on that other side.
and fear of him, Arcite."
For jealousy,
Go
But
And

his

at

the long nights increase doubly

both
of
the
lover
and the prisoner. I know
strong pains
hath the saddest
condition ; for Palamon
which
is connot
demned
his
and
in
die
and
chains
to
to {jerpetual
fetters
prison,
;
of that country, on penalty
and Arcite is exiled for evermore
out
of his head :
The

passeth,and

summer

the

Ne

lovers

Who

hath

That

one

But

That
But

Now,

in

his

ye that can,

Consultations.
A

Leave.

him

lust,may

lady shall he

judge

the French

Please.

as

or

Palamon

lady day by day,

dwell alwdy.

mustfe

where

corruptionof

Arcite

his

see

prisonhe

see

ask

the worse,
may

other

shall he his lady see.

I you this question,

more

never

Now

never

you

ride
mo'.

or

go,

please.

Huddleth.
oath
"

pardieux,or

Mad,

Par

Dieux,

l84

CANTERBURY

TALES.

had come
to Thebes, full oft
more
see
swooned, and said Alas ! for he shall never
his
And
conclude
to
shortly
woe,

that Arcite

When

day he
his

lady.

had never
So much
creature
sorrow
That is or shall be, while the world will 'dure.
His sleep,his meat, his drink is him beraft,
That lean he wax'd, and dry as any shaft.
His eyen hollow,grislyto behold ;
and pale as ashes cold ;
His hue fallow,^

alone.
was, and ever
all the night,making his

he
solitary

And

And wailine
moan.
if he heard^ song or instrument,
And
would he weep, ne mightfenought be stent.a
Then
his spirits,
and so low,
So feeble were
could^ know
And changed so, that no man
it heard.
his voice,though men
His speech^ nor

in his garb,he fared,for all the world, like one possessed

maladies
not only by the lover's malady of Ereos,'but by many
his
before
of
melanjzholy humours,
head, in his
engendered
of
fantastic cell. And, in short,both the habit and disposition
down.
turned
this woeful lover, Dan
Arcite,were
upside
this cruel torment,
for a year or two
he had endured
When
in
his
and this pain and woe
at Thebes,
own
country, as I have
said, upon a night,as he lay in sleep,
And

"

Him
thought how that the winged god, Merctiry,
Before him stood,and bade him to be meriy.
His sleepyyard^ in hand he bare upright;
A hat he wear'd upon his hairfes bright.

This

god

took his

arrayed (he observed) as

was

said

sleep. He
"

There

to

him

he

when

was

Argus

thus,

To

is thee

Athens shalt thou wend ;

shapen of thy woe an end."

"
and started.
that word Arcite awoke
Now
truly,"
I
how
that
Athens
will
to
I
sore
ever
smart,
quoth he,
go at
For no dread of death shall I refrain from seeing my
once.
I love and
In her presence
I reck not to
serve.
lady, whom
perish."And with that word he caught a great mirror,and
all changed, and
that his colour was
his visage quiteof
saw
And
another kind.
immediatelyit ran in his mind, that since
his face was
so
disfiguredby the malady he had endured, he
live evermore
might well,if he bare himself in a lowlymanner,
unknown
in Athens
:

And

with

"

And
^

Sallow

"

see

his

yellow,

lady well nigh day by day.

^

Stopped.

'

Cupid.

Rod, wand.

THE

KNIGHTS

185

TALE.

So, immediately he changed his apparel,and clad himself as a

poor labourer ; and all alone,with the exceptionof a squire,
his

and
privity,

That knew
"Which was
To Athens
And to the
And at the

gate he

To

and

drudge

all his case,

dis^is^d
poorly,as he was.
is he gone, the nextfe^ way.
court he went
a day,

upon

his service
proffer'a
would
draw, what so man

devise.

And, shortlyto speak of this matter, he fell in office with a

who
dwelled
with Emily ; for he was
chamberlain
wise, and
take note of every one
Well could
that served her.
bear water, for he was
and mighty
he hew wood, and
young
besides
and
and
he
for the occasion,
was
big of bones,
strong
he
A year or two
to do what any
wight could devise for him.
in
this
service,
was
could

soon

Page
and

Philostrate

of the chamber

he said he

of

was

Emily

the

bright;

called.

he
well beloved a man
as
there never
in court of his degree.
Ne was
He was
so gentleof conditioun
his renown.
That throughoutall the court was

But

half

so

They saidfe that it were a charity

his degree.
That Theseus would enhancen
And putten him in worshipfulservice,
There as he might his virtue exercise.
And thus within a while his nam^
sprung
Both of his deed^s,and of ^oodfe
tongue.
That Theseus hath taken him so near.
That of his chamber, he made him squi^re.
And gave him gold to maintain his degree.
And eke men
brought him out of his country
From
to
year, full privilyhis rent ;
year
But honestlyand slily
he it spent.
That no man
wondered
how that he it had.
And
three year in this wise his lifehe lad -^
And
bear him so in
peace and eke in war,
There was
that Theseus hath so dear f
no
man

And
in this bliss I will
Palamon.

leave

now

Arcite,and speak a little of

In darkness,and horrible and strong prison

This seven
year hath sitten Palamon
what for woe, and for distress.
Forpinfed,*
and heaviness
Who
feeleth double sorrow
But Palamon
? that love distraineth so,
^

Nearest.

Led.

"

Holds

dearer.

Wasted

away.

of his wit he

that out
a

TALES,

CANTERBURY

i86

for

goeth mad

and
prisonerperpetually,

merely

not

for

also, he

And

sorrow.
a

is

year.

rhyme in English properly

martyrdom ? forsooth it am not I.
I may.
as
Therefore I pass as lightly
couldfe

Who
His

third
It befell that in the seventh year, and on the
all this story more
May, as old books relate,that tell
it

Were

(As when
Palamon,

after the

soon

destiny
shapen,it shall be),

by adventure

thing is

night oi
plainly,

or

midnight, by

help of

the

friend,brake

prison.
fleeth the

And

cityfast

he may

as

go.

given his gaoler to drink clarey,*made

and fine opium of Thebes,
certain wine, with narcotics,
had

he

For

That

"

SO
a

of

so

The
And
The

night,though that
he mights not
gaolerslept,
all that

he fleeth

thus

night

was

fast

as

short,and

this
For, shortly,

his

was

beg of his friends to help

And
shortly,either he would

And

himself.

to hide

to

opinion,

That in that grove he would

And in the night then would
To Thebes
ward,
to

shake,

stalketh Palamon.

dread-ful foot then

With

him

would

awake.

he may.
as
ever
fastfe^by the day,

how

needs consider
that he must
close beside there,
grove

men

him

him

hide all

he take

to

make

day.

his way

war

upon

Theseus.

lose his life

Or
Now

winnen

Emily

unto

his wife.

how
nigh to
will I turn again to Arcite,who littleknew
had brought him into
his trouble,until that Fortune

him

was

the

snare.

of day,
The busy lark,the messenger
the
morrow
grey :
Saluteth in her song
riseth up so bright,
And
fieryPhoebus
That all the Orient laugheth of the sight;
fes drieth in the greves^
with his stream
And
The silver droppes hanging on the leaves.
^

liquormade

of

wine, honey,etc.

''

Close

'
"

near.

Groves.

KNIGHTS

7IIE

And

is in the

Arcite,who
squire,
Is

of Theseus

royalcourt

risen,and
for

And

187

TALE.

looketh on the merry

do his observance
to

principal

the

day,

May,
Rememb'ring of the point^of his desire.
He on his courser, startingas the fire.
Is ridden to the field^s hrm
to play.
it a mile or tway.'
Out of the court, were
And
of which that I you told.
to the grove
By idventure his way he gan to hold,
To maken
him a garland of the greves,^
Were
it of woodbine
or of hawthorn
leaves.
And loud he sang againstthe sunny
sheen,
O May, with all thy flow' res and thy green,
be thou,well fair^ freshfe May !
Welcome
I hope that I some
green here getten may,"
And from his courser, with a lust)^'
heart,
to

"

Into the grove full hastily he start.

And in a path he roamfea
up and down.
this
Palamon
There, as by adventure,
Was
in a bush, that no
man
might him see.
he.
For sore afearfed of his death was

Nothing

knew

full littlehave

he

it was

that

Arcite

believed it. But truth

; God

knows, he would

to say, gone

since

are
many
years.
field hath eyen, and the wood hath ears.
It is full fair,a man
to bear him even
;
For all day meeten
at unset
steven.*
men

That

Arcite
Full littlealso knew
hearken
to his words,

that

his

fellow

was

full still.
For in the bush he sitteth now
that Arcite had roamfed all his fill,
When
all the roundel lustily,
And sangen
Into a study he fell suddenly ;
As do these lovers in their quaintfe
gears,*
in the crop and now
Now
down in the breres
1
*
"

2 Two.
Object.
Mirthful,joyous.
strange
Quainte ^^rj"
who
if
Venus,"
gery

**
But
the poet in connection

with

from
changeful,

gery^

3
*

At

so

nigh

to

;"

Groves.

unappointed times.

Briars.

modes
or
fashions,
says Mr. C. Clarke.
is immediately afterwards mentioned
by
*'
these lovers,*mean, as Mr. Clarke
poses,
supthe French,gerer^ to swim
round, there is

is applicableto the former

littledoubt but that the same
exj)lanation
like
their
The
lovers
full of quaint or
heavenly
mistress,
phrase.
are,
fantastic

changes

"

"'

Now

in the crop, and

now

down

in the breres

;"

i88

CANTERBURY
Now

down,

TALES,
bucket

in a well.
for
to tell,
Right
Friday,soothly
Now
it shineth,
it
fast
raineth
now
;
Right so 'gan geary Venus overcast
The hearths of her folk,rightas her day
Is gearful,
rightso changeth her array :
now

up,

Seld' is the

Arcite had

When

Fridayallthe

sung, he
down

set him

And
"

Alas

as

the

as

!"

week

began

to

ylike.

sigh,

withouten any more.

"
the day that I was

bore !"

quoth he,

long,Juno, through thy cruelty,wilt thou war

against
? Alas ! brought to confusion is the royal
the cityof Thebes
blood of Cadmus
and Amphion ; of Cadmus, who was
the first
that built Thebes, or first began the town, and was
first
man
I
crowned
of
Of
his
the
his
city.
king
lineageam
offspring
I am
such a caitiff
by direct lipe,of the royal stock. And now
How

"

and

thrall that I serve

And
yet Juno
enemy.
mine own
dare not know
called Arcite I am
now

squirehe

who

is my

mortal
doth even
more
disgrace me; for I
but
whereas
I was
wont
to be
name,
called Philostrate.
Alas ! thou fell
Mars
! alas, thou Juno ! thus hath your
ire destroyed all our
that Theseus
save
lineage,
only me and the wretched Palamon
in prison.
tormenteth
a

as

poor

all this, to slayme

And over
utterly
dart so burningly
Love hath his fiery
Ystickfed through my tru6 careful heart,
"

That shapen was

my death ere than my
Ye slayme
with your eyen, Emily ;
Ye be the caus^ wherefore that I die.

all the remainder

tare, so that I could

Upon
of

shirt,*

of my trouble,I do not set the value

do aught to pleaseyou.*'

harvest of fanciful
Such
and
briars.
at least seems
thought,
among
to us the explanationof a line so clear r.nd beautiful in itself that we
could wish to leave it undiluted by any prose commentary, but that we
find among
the notes of the gentleman just named
top given as the
meaning of the word crop, and much of the beauty of the passage, to
or, in

other
now

our
^

in the

flush, the very

its wastes

down

thinking,therebydissipated.
Or, in other words, my death must

the cloth

and

words, now

was

Cressida

spun
'

read

we
"

in which

O
Me

was

before
have been determined
first wrapped. Thus
in * Troilus

"

fatal sistren,
which

shapen was,

my

ere

any

destiny

me

cloth

spun."

KNIGHTS

THE

with that word

longe time ;

And
A

TALE,

he fell down

in

189
a

trance,

and afterward started up Palamon, who thought he felt a cold

sword glidesuddenly through his heart. He shook for ire. No
when
And
he had heard Arcite's tale,
longer would he hide.

mad,

with a deadly pale countenance, as though he were

started up out of the thick bushes, and said, "False
art thou caught,
false wicked traitor 1 now

For

that

whom

that lovest my lady so,

all this pain and woe

I have

he

Arcite 1

counsel sworn,
As I full oft have told thee herebeforn ;
Theseus
here Duke
And hast bejapfed^
;
And falsely
changed hast thy namfe thus ;
I will be dead, or ellfesthou shalt die.
And

art my

blood,and

to my

For
And

shalt not love my lady Emily ;

and no mo'.
I will love her only,
I am
Palamon
thy mortal foe.
have in this
though that I no weapon

But

out

Thou
But

place,
grace,*
prison
ystart by
I dreadfe nought that either thou shalt die.
Or thou ne shalt not loven Emily :
which thou wilt,for thou shalt not as tar t."^
Choose
This Arcite then,with full dispiteous*
heart.
When
he him knew, and had his talfeheard.
As fierce as a li6n puU'd out a sword.
And saidfethus ;
By God that sitteth above,
that
thou art sick,and wood* for love,
N' ere* it
of

am

"

And eke that thou no

Thou
shouldest never

hast in this place,

weapon
out of this grovfepace,

but,
shouldest dien of my hond ;
the
defy
surety and the bond
that thou sayest I have made
to thee.
Which
! very fool ! think well that love is free.
What
For

But for that

her, in spiteof all thy power.
her by
thou art a worthy gentleknight,and desirest to contest
I
have
will
here
that
to-morrow
not
out
withtruth,
fail,
battle,
my
the knowledge of any other person, here to be found as a

And

I will love

knight;

"

And
And
^
8

bringen harness rightenough

the best,and leave the

choose

Deceived, tricked.
Escape. Unpitying
"*

"

'

Started or
fierce. * Ne

for

thee,

worst

escapedby
were

"

were

for

me.

grace

or

it not.

favour.
c

Mad.

CANTERBURY

190
And

meat

Enough
if so

And
Thou
This

And

this night will I bring

and drinkfe,
for thee,and clothes for thy bedding.
be that thou

lady win,
my
slayme in this wood that I am in.
may'st well have thy lady as for me."
Palamon
answ^r'd, I grant it thee."

And

them

TALES.

"

thus have they parted until the morrow,

hath laid his faith in pledge.
O
O

Cupid,out

of all^

that
regtie*

wilt

no

charity!

each

of

'

fellow have

Truly is it said, that neither love

:
good will,have any fellowship

when

nor

with thee !

lordship will,with their

"

finden that Arcite

Well

and

Palamon.

Arcite rode immediately into the town.

And
the morrow,
on
before daylight,he had prepared privately
sets of armour,
two
the battle in the field between
both fitand sufficient to contest
his horse, as he rode alone, he carried all
these two.
And
on
this armour
before him.
in the grove, at time and
This Arcite and this Palamon
Then
changen *gan the colour

And

placeyset,

be met,
in their face.
Right as the hunter in the regne* of Thrace,
That standeth in the gappfewith a spear,
When
hunted is the lion or the bear,
And heareth him come
rushing in the greves*'
And breaking both the boughfesand the leaves,
mortal enemy,
And thinks, " Here comes
my
dead
I ;
Withouten
be
he
must
or
fail,
him
the
For either I must
at
slay
gap,
"
Or he must
slayme, if it me mishap :
So fareden they in changing of their hue.
As far* as either of them other knew.
There

was

exchanging

no

of

"

without
good-day," no saluting,but straight,
the
words, each helped to arm
other

As

And
*
*
"

after

King.

friendlyas

he

were

his

owen

that,with strong and sharp spears, they thrust

2

Realm.

"

is to say, when
each
they distinguished
either of them
could the " other
know.
"

at

Groves.

That
as

brother.

"

other,as

"

far

"

oQ

THE
each

other for

KNIGHTS

TALE.

wondrously long time.

191

Though

itseemed

that this Palamon

fightingwere as a wood' lion,
And
Arcite.
as a cruel tigerwas
As wildfe boards 'gannfe
they to smite,
That froth en white as foam for irfewood ;'
Up to the ankle foughtthey in their blood.
And
in this wise I let them
fightingdwell,
And further I will of Theseus
you tell :
minister general,
The destiny,
That executeth in the world o'er all
The purveyance*that .God hath seen
beforn,
So strong it is,that though the world had sworn,
In his

"

"

The

contrary of

thing,by

or

yea

it shall fall upon

sometime
a
That falleth not eft' in a thousand
Yet

For
Be

our
certainly

it of war,

or

peace,

by

I now
This mean
by
hunt, and especially

year.

appetiteshere,

or

All is it nilM

nay,

day

the

hate, or love,

sightabove.

mighty Theseus, who

is

That
That

the greats hart in May,

him no day
in his bed there dawneth
he n' is* clad,and ready for to ride

With

hunt

and

horn, and

hound^s

so

desirous

to

beside.

him

For in his hunting hath he such delight,

That it is all his joy and appetite
To be himself the greats hartfe'sbane ;
For after Mars he serveth now
Diane.

Clear

the

was

day,

And Theseus with allfejoy and bliss,

With his Hypolita,the fair^ queen.
all in green,
And Emily yclothfed

And
that stood close
to the grove,
told him there was
Theseus
a
by, in which men
hart, Duke
and
rideth
he
the
takes the straight way ;
right to
laund,*
used to take flight.
where
the hart was
ride

royally in the hunt.

And

The

Duke
he

as

over

will have

brook,and
a

course

so

or

forth
two

on

at

his way.

him

with

hounds, such

pleases
to command.

And

'

when

For vengeance
Ne is is not.
"

mad.

this duke

was

into the

come

'^

Ordinance.

An

open

space in

laund,*^

Again.
a

forest.

CANTERBURY

192

TALES.

Under the sun he lookfed,

rightanon
and
Arcite
of
He was
aware
Palamon,
boards two.
That fouffhten breme,* as it were
The bright^swordfes wenten
to and fro
that with the leasts stroke
So hideously,
It seemeth

But
smote

what
his

they

that it wouldfe

nothingyet

were,

fell an

oak.

This

he knew.

Duke, then,

with his spurs,

courser

betwixt them two,

And at a start he was
And pullfed
!
out a sword, and cried " Ho
No more, up' pain of losingof your head.
he shall be dead
By mighty Mars ! anon
That smiteth any stroke that I may
see.
But telleth me
what mistere* men
ye be
That be so hardy for to fightenhere,
Withouten
judge or other officere,
As it

Palamon
We

in

were

listes royally.

hastilyanswered,

have

both

of

"

Sir^,what

deserved

words ?
Two
woeful wretches
lives ; and as thou

needeth

the death.
of our own
are
we^
lord and judge,give us neither
art a rightful
two

us

encumbered
caitiffs,

more

refugenor

And slayme first,

for saintfe Charity,
But slaymy fellow eke, as well as me.
Or slayhim first; for though thou know
him
This is thy mortal foe,this is Arcite,
That from thy land is banish'd on his head*

mercy

lite,^

For which he had deserved to be dead.

For this is he that came
unto
thy gate,
that he hightfe*
And saidfe,
Philostrate.
Thus hath he japfed*
thee manv
a

year.

And thou hast maked

of him thy chief squi^re,
And this is he that loveth Emily.
For sith^ the day is come
that I shall die,
I makfe plainly
my confession.
thilkfe^
That I am
woful Palamon,
That hath thy prisonbroken wilfully.
I am thy mortal foe ; and it am
I
That loveth so hot,Emily the bright.
That I will dien present in her sight.
Therefore I askfe death,and my jewlse.'
But slaymy fellow in the samfe wise,
For both we have deserved to be slain."
*

Furiously.

Little.
"Tricked.

"

Or,

in other

On

penaltyof.

'Since.

words, men
^

of what
"

Xhat.

"

Was

condition.
called.

Judgment.

KNIGHTS

THE
This

worthy Duke

TALE.

immediately answered
"

This

is

193

"

short conclusion

confession,
mouth, by your own
Hath
damnM
you both,and I will it record.
It needed not to pain you with the cord,
Ye shall be dead,by mighty Mars the Red." *
Your

own

Immediately,fpr very womanhood,

the

Queen began

and so did Emily,

to weep,
all the ladfes in the company.
Great pity was
it,as it thought them

And

That
For

ever

such

chanc^

should^

all.

fall ;

they were of great estate,

gentlemen
And
nothing but for love was this debate ;
wide and sore ;
And saw
their bloody wound^s
And
all they cridd lessfe and the more,
all 1
Have
Lord, upon us women
mercy.
And on their barfe knees anon
they fall,
And
would have kissed his feet there as he stood,
"

"

'
Till at the last aslakM
his mood
was
;
in
runneth
soon
(For pity
gentleheart)*
And though he firstfor irfequoke and start,*

He hath it all considered in a clause

The trespass of them
and their cause
bothfe,
;
And although that his ire their guiltaccused.
he them both excused.
Yet in his reason
And thus he thought ; that every manner
man
Will help himself in love if that he .can.
And eke deliver himself out of prison.
And in his hearth had compassion
for
Of women,
theywepten ever in one.'
his
And in
gentleheart he thought anon.
And soothlyhe to himself saide," Fie
Upon a lord that will have no mercy,
be a lion both in word and deed
them that be in repentance and drede,
As well as to a proud dispiteous
man,
what he first began.
That will maintainen
But

To

'

Condemned.

shall not be humiliated by the hangman's cord,

is to say,
ye
death
honourable
but suffer the more
that Mars
inflicts,
namely,with
"
the sword.
Slaked
tempered.
*
^ For
Chaucer's favourite line.
shook and started.
vengeance
'That
in one
is to say, ever
unbroken
grief; or, in plainprose,
2

That

"

continually.

TALES,

CANTERBURY

194

That lord hath littleof discretion

That in such case can* no division,
after one/*
But weigheth pride and humbless
when his ire is over
And shortly,
gone
with eyen light;
He gan to look on them

and

speak on high these

to

"

words

"

of Love, ah, henedicite I

mighty and how great a lord is he !
obsticle
Against his might, there gaineth' none
be clep'd a god of his miracle,
He may
For he can maken at his owfen guise,
Of every heart,as that him lust devise.

The
How

God

'

and Arcite,that were

quiteout of prison,
Lo, here this Palamon
their
I am
and might have lived royallyin Thebes, that know
mortal enemy,
and that their death also lies in my
yet hath love in spiteof

; and

power

their eyen two

Ybrought them hither,bothfe for to die.

Now
looketh,is not this a high folly?
Who
may not be a fool,if that he love ?
.Behold,for Goddfes sake, that sits above,
See how thev bleed 1 be they not well array'd
?
Thus hath their lord,the god of love,them paid
Their wages, and their fees for their service :
* for
And yet they weenen
to be full wise,
That serven
for
love,
aught that may befall.
But this is yet the bestfe game
of all.
That she, for whom
they have this jealousy
Can them therefore as muchel thank as me ;"
She

wot

By God,
But
A

of all this hotfe fare

more

no

than

wot

all must

be

must

be

man

cuckoo

or

assayed,hot
a

fool,or

hare.

a
or

cold,
or

young

old.

time I was
it by myself full long ago ; for in my
a
And
therefore since I know
of love's pain,and know
take possession of a man;
he that hath
how sorelyit can
as
I forgiveyou
often caught in his snare,
been
entirelythis
trespass, at the request
know

servant.

"

"

And

And
never

*
*

ye

that kneeleth here.

of the queen
eke of Emily, my sister dear.

shall both

more

Can make,
Gives them

make

or
no

immediately swear
war

knows.
more

upon
^

thanks

my

dear

unto

country

Prevaileth.
for it than I do.

that ye shall

me

or

Called.

upon
*

me,

Believe.

THE

KNIGHT'S

TALE.

I9S

I forgive
friends in all that ye can.
asked
they swore, as he
you this trespass every bit** And
and lordship ; and he
fair and well ; and prayed him for mercy
granted them grace ; and then said,as to their love,Emily :

day, but be my

by night nor

"

"

speak of real lineageand rich^ss,

Though that she were a queen or a princess,
Each
of you both is worthy, doubtfeless

To

To

when

wedden

for my

(Ispeak as

is ; but, nathfeleas
sister Emily,

time

For whom
ye have this strife and jealousy)
Ye wot yourself,
she may not wedden
two
At onfes,
evermo*
though ye foughten
;
*
of you, or be him loth or lief,
That one
in
He may
an
ivy leaf.
go pipen
have you both,
This is to say, she may
not
All be ye never
wroth.
so
ne
so jealous,

therefore

in this

that each of you shall have

him.
in what
Hearken
destiny,as
manner.
Lo, here is the end for you of which I shall devise.
is
will
this;for plain
conclusion,and without any replications,
My
each of you
That
if that you like it,take it for the best :
w
ithout
he pleases,
shall go where
ransom
or
danger ;
freely,
and that this day fifty
weeks, neither further nor nearer, each of
all
knights,armed fullyfor the lists,
you shall bring a hundred
ready to contest her by battle. And this I promise you without
whichever
of you both
a knight,
fail,
upon my truth,and as I am
hath the power, that is to say, that whether
he or thou, may
him
of
with his hundred, slay his opponent,
drive
out
or
And
his

put you

it is determined

state

for

"

"

the lists
"

shall I given Emily to wife

Him
that fortune giveth so fair a grace.
To whom
The list^s shall I maken
in this place.
And God so wisely
on
my soulfe rue
*
As I shall even
judgfebe, and true.

Ye shall make
no
be dead or taken.
minds, and hold
This

other end with me,

but that
if you think this is well
And

one

end, and your conclusion."

looketh lightlynow, but Palamon
Who
?
Who
but Arcite ?
springethup for joyfe,
couldfe tellfe,
Who
could it indite.
or who
The joy^that is mad^ in this place,
is your

Gis^.

shall

said,speak your

yourselvessatisfied.

Thesfeus hath done so fair a grace

When
down
But
knees wentfe every wight,
on
him with all their hearths
And thanked

of you

might

ImpartiaL

TALES.

CANTERBURY

196

thus with
And
often times.
and
their
take
begin
leave,
good hopes and blithe hearts they
old walls.
to ride homeward
to Thebes, with its wide and
it negligent if 1 forgot to tell
deem
would
I trow
men
the expenditure of Theseus, who
goes so busily to form the lists
Thebans

especiallythese

and

noble theatre
mile
circuit was
The
a
there was
in all the world beside.
not
in
It
round
ditch
was
and
beyond.
a
about, with stone walls,
of
a
arranged like the degrees
shape, and the seats were
in

that

royalmanner,

I dare well

say

that such

the centre, and raised to the heightof

was
placed on one
stage
sixty paces, so that when a man
stood
here
1
Eastward
from
his
fellow
he hindered
not
seeing.
of white
a gate
marble, and opposite en the west, just such

radiatingfrom

compass,

another.

shortlyto concluden, such

And

Was

There

none

did not
theatre.

and

meat

worship of

In

so

place

land, skilled in geometry

of images that Theseus
carver

the

to

wages

and

devise

make

the

sacrifice,
above,
Venus, goddess of love,

hath

eastward

Done

little space.

for to do his rite and

And

He

in

painternor

no
architecture,
him
give

or

in

craftsmen

no

were

in earths

make*

upon

altar and

an

the gate

oratory.

an

in the mind and in memory

westward
hath
Of Mars
he
ymakfed such another
That costfe largelyof gold a fother.^
And
northward,in a tuiTet on the wall,

And

"

"

Of alabaster white, and red

An oratory richfe for to see

worship of Dian, godH^ss of chastity,

In

hath

wrought in

Theseus

forgottento

The
That

manner.

But

yet had

carvingand the portraitures.

of the figures
shape,the countenance
in these

weren

Wrought

on

oratories three.
Venus thou may

temple of

the

and
sleepfes,

the

sighingscold,

broken

The

and the waimenting,"

sacred tearfes,
fierystrokes of the desiring,

be made.

hence
cart-load,

'

Lamentings.

any

see,

wall,full piteousto behold,

The

The
to

noble

noble

First in the

Caused

describe
The

'

coral.

indefinite great

quantity.

KNIGHTS

THE

TALE.

197

That Lovfe's servants

in this lifeenduren ;
The oaths that by ner covenants
assuren
;
Pleasance and Hope, Desire,Foolhardiness,
Beauty and Youth, Baudry and Rich^ss,
Charmfes and Sorcery,Lesings^and Flattery,

Business,and Jealousy,
Dispencfe,
wear'd of yellowgoldfes^
a garUnd,
her hand ;
And had a cuckoo
on
sitting
carol^s,and dances.
Feastfes,
instruments,
the circumstances
and
all
and
Lust,
array,
Of Love, which that I reckoned, and reckon shall,
Each by oth^r were
paintedon the wall,
"

That

of mention.*
make
than I can
And more
all the Mount
of Citheron,
For soothly
There* Venus hath her principal
dwelling,
Was
showed on the wall in pouf traying.
With all the garden,and the lustiness.*
Nought was forgotten: the porter Idleness ;
the fair,
of yore agone
Ne Narcissus
;
Ne yet the folly
of King Solomon
;
Ne yet the greatfestrengthof Hercules ;
and Circus ;
Th* enchantments
of Medea
Ne of Tumtis, the hardy fierce courdge ;
Ne richfeCroesus caitiff*in servdge.
and ricWss,
Thus may we see that wisdom
"

strengthsne hardiness,
Beauty,ne sleight,^
Ne may
with Venus
holdfe champarty,^
the world then may she gie.'
For as she lust,

Lo, all these folk

Till

they for

Suffice here these

a thousand
more.
The
Was
And

statue

caught in her

were

woe,

one

of

or

full often said

snare,
"

examples

two

Venus, gloriousfor

alas ! "
; and

yet I could reckon

to see,

in the largfe
naked,floating
sea.
from the navel down
all covered

was

With wavfes green, and brightas any glass,

in her righthand
haddfe she ;
A citole'*'
And on her head full seemlyfor to see,
A rose
garUnd full sweet, and well smelling;
her head her dovfes flickering.
Aboven
"

Lying.
The yellowgoldes are

the yellow flowers of the Tumsol.

*
* Where.
Make
mention of.
Delight.
"
" Share
^
" Wretched.
Guide.
Skill.
of power.
1" A
musical instrument,probably of the dulcimer kind
Gower
"
which sounded low."
the instruments
mentions it among
^

'

TALES.

CANTERBURY

198
Before

Cupido,

her stood her sonfe

Upon his shoulders

And blind he was,

wingfestwo,

weren

it is often seen
;
fair and keen.
he bare, and arrows
should I not as well eke tell you all

bow

as

Why
the wall,
that was
The portraiture
upon
Within the temple of mightyMars the Red ?
and brede.*
the wall in length
All paintedwas
Like to the estres^ of the grisly
place
That hight the great temp^l of Mars in Thrace
In thilkicold and frostyregion

hath his sovereignmansion.

There as Mars
First on the wall was
painted a forest,
In which there dwelled neither man
nor
beast,
With knotty,knarly,
trees
old,
barren,
Of stubb^s sharp,and hideous to behold ;
In which there ran a rumble and a swough,'
Twere
should bursten every bough.
as a storm
And downward
hill under a bent *
a
on
There stood the Temple of Mars Armipotent,
Wrought all of burnish 'd steel ; of which th' entree
Was

long and strait,and ghastlyfor

thereout
That it made
The northern
For window

Through

to see

*
rage and such a prise
all the gat^s for to rise.

And

came

lightin

at the doorfe

the wall

on

which

ne

was

mighten

men

shone.

there none.
any light discenu

The

all of adamant
doors were
etem
,
Yclenchfed overthwart and endfelong,'
With iron tough ; and for to make
it strong,

3ie temple to
Every pillar,

sustene,

Was

tonnfe great, of iron brightand sheen.

I first the dark imagining
There saw

Of
The
The
The
The

Felony, ^and all the compassing ;

cruel ire,^
as red as
any glede f
and eke the palfe
drede ;"
pickfe-purse,
"

smiler with

the knife und^r

his cloak ;

shepenioburning,with the blacks smoke

of the murdering in the bed ;
treason

The
The

open

with woundfes

wars,

all be-bled

Contest with bloody knife,and sharp menice.

All full of chirkingwas
that sorry place.

"

Breadth.

"

This

is

Interior.
doubt

no

writers
poetical
"

"
"

Bend or
Crosswise

the

"

much
slopeof the soil.
; but

and

Burning coal.

how

lengthwise.
"

Dread

"

other northern
of Bums, and
finer is the old form of the word ?
" Rush,

sough

'

or

Vengeance.

-fear.

*"

Stable.

THE

kNlGHTS

TALE,

I99

The slayerof himself yet saw

I there,
His hearth's blood hath bathed all his hair;
The nail ydriven in the shode' anight;
The cold^ death,with mouth
gaping uprfght.
Amidd^s
of the temple sate Mischance,
With discomfort and evil countenanceI Woodness^
Yet saw
laughing in his rage ;
The carrion in the bush, with throat ycarven
;
A thousand
slain,and not of qualm ystarven ;'
The tyrant, with the prey by force 3rreft
;
The town
destroyed there was nothingleft.
I burnt the shipp^s
Yet saw
teres ;*
hoppes
The hunter strangledwith the wildfe bears ;
the child rightin the cradle ;
The sow
fretting*
The cook yscaldd"for all his long^ ladle :
Nought be forgottenth* inforttine of Mart,
The carter overridden with his cart ;
the wheel full low he layadown.
Under
also of Mars* division
There were
The harbour,and the bowyer, and the smith
That forgethsharps swordfes on his stith.'
in a tower.
And all above depainted
in
I
Saw
Conquest, sitting great hon6ur.
"

With

thilkfe sharpssword ov^r his head,

a subtle twinfed thread.

Hangfingby

of Julius,
Depainted was there the slaught'^
Of great Nerd, and of Antonius
:
All be* that ilkfe time theywere
unborn.
their death depaintedthere beforn
Yet was
By menacing of Mars, rightby figure
it shewed right in the portraiture
So was
As is depaintedin me
stars above,
Who
for love.
shall be slain,
or ellfesdead
Sufficeth one
example in stories old ;
I may not reckon them allfe,
though I wold.
The statue of Mars upon
a carte**^
stood,
"

looked grim as he were

wood ;"
shineth
there
his
head
two figiires
over
Of starrfes,
in Scriptilres
that be clepfed

Armfed,and

And

of the head.
That is to say, and not
ness, or disease.
'

Temple

'

Madness,

destroyed,throughqualm

ystarven
"

Hoppesteres,probably from the

would
The meaning, therefore,
sier.

Saxon

she

as

"
"

danced

upon

the

image.
"
Devouring.
Albeit,although.

waves

"

Scalded.
^

Car,

or

sich.-

words,hoppe^Yf2i\ts^ and
the ship was
burnt, even
and picturesque
poetical,
striking,

be that
most

"

Stith

"

anvil.

Carriage.

^
"

Slaughter.
Mad.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

2D0

That one
Puella,that other Rubeus.
This god of Armfes was
arrayedthus,
A wolf there stood before him at his feet
he eat.
With eyen red,and of a man
this story
With subtle pencilpaintedwas
In r^doubtingiof Mars, and of his glory.
Now
to the temple of Diin the chaste
As
To

shortlyas
tellen you

I can, I will me
haste.
all the descriptioun

Depainted by the wallfes up and down

Of nunting,and of shame-faced
chastity.
I how woeful Callstop^,
There saw
that Dian was
When
aggrievedwith her,
Was
tumM
from a woman
to a bear,
she made the lodestar' ;
And after was
Thus was
it painted,I can say no far':^
Her son is eke a star as men
see.
may
I Dian
turned into a tree.
Thereisaw
saw

I Acteon

"

"

"

"

There

hart

ymakfed,

that he saw
Didn all naked :
For vengeance
have him caught
I saw
how that his hound"s
him nought.
And fretten* him, for that they knew
Yet painted was
a littlefurthermore
How
Atalanta hunted the wild boar,
another
And Meleager,and many
mo*,
For which Diana
them
wrought
care, and woe.
another
There saw
I also many
story,
The which me
list not drawen
to memdry.
This goddess on a hart full high she sate,
With smallfe houndfes all about her feet.
And
her feet she had the moon.
underneath
it
and
should^ wanen
soon.
Waxing
was,
her
In gaudy green
clothfed was.
statue
in a case.
With bow in hand, and arrows
Her eyfencastfe she full low adown.
There* Pluto hath his darkfe regioun.
A woman
her befom
was
travailling
But for her child so long^ was
unborn
Full
And

Well
With

Now

piteouslyLucina 'gan she call.

saidfe,Help, for thou mayst best of all !
could he paintfelife-like,
that it wrought :
the
florin
he
hues
a
bought.
many

**

"

the lists made

; and Theseus, who, at his great cost,
arrayed thus the temples and the theatres in every part when
it was
done, liked the whole wondrously well.
But I will
cease
a littleof Theseus, and
and Arcite.
speak of Palamon
are

"

Reverencing.

^
*

Farther.
Where.

"

Tear, devour.

KNIGHTS

THE

; and

hundred

Athens, to hold their covenant, each hath brought

for the war.
at all points,
And,
knights,well armed

As

far

that
of the knighthood that
a

believed

man

God

as

halh maked

sea

few

since

never

or

was

the world

each

upon

side),

land,

there
of

For

man

I told

to

certainly,
many
began (tospeak

was

201

each
for their tourney, when
day approacheth
the battle,as
bringa hundred knights to contest

The
should
you

TALE.

so

every wight that loved

have an excelling

so

good

company.

chivalry,and would

with his

will
good-

name,

Hath prayed that he might be of that game,

him that thereto chosen
And well was
was.

And

if such

every

lustyknight that loveth/^r

with his

would

well that
know
and hath his strength,
^
it in Engbe there,were
land

happened to-morrow,

case

amour

goodwill determine

to

ye

anywhere else.

or

To

for a lady,Benedicite ;
fightfe
It were
a
lusty*sightsfor to see ;
And rightso fareden they with Palamon.

With

him

there went
will be armed
in a
Some
a knight.
many
in
and in a gipon'; and some
a breastplate,
habergeon,aand
will have a pair of large plates. Some
will have a Prussian
will
shield or a target ; and some
be well armed
about the
is no
of steel. There
legs and have an axe ; and some
a mace
fashion
but that has been
old. They were
new
armed, as I
have said to you, every one
after his own
opinion.
There

see, coming with Palamon,

Licurge himself,the greats king of Thrace ;
Black

The

mayst thou
his

was

They glowfedenbetwix
And

his face.

beard, and manly was

in his head,

circles of his eyen

like

yell6w and red.

griffonlookfed he about

With combfed hairfes on his browns

stout ;
His limbos great, his brawnfes* hard and strong ;
His shoulders broad,his arm^s round and long.

Pleasant,cheering.
"

short cassock.

Muscles.

small

coat

of mail.

CAlSrTERBVRY

^32

TALES.

And

in his countr
as the guis^ was
,
Full high upon a chair of gold stood he,
With fourfewhitfe buUfes in a trace.
Instead of coat-armour
his harness,
on
"

With nailfesyellow,and brightas

He

had

any

go

Idj

black for old;*

behind
his back ;
ycomb'd
As any raven
black.
i
t
shone
for
feather,
A wreath of gold,arm-great, and huge of weight,
Upon his head,set full of stonfes bright.
Of finferubies and of diamonds.
About his chairfe v.'enten white alauns,^

skin^coal

bear"
His longfe
hair
a

Twenty

and

great as

as

more,

steer,*

any

To

hunten at the lion or at the bear.

And
fast ybound.
followed him, with muzzle
Collared with gold,and tourettes* fil^d round.
A hundred
lordfeshad he in his rout*
full well,with hearths stem
Armed
and stout.
With Arcita,in stones
as
men
find.
The great Emetrius,the king of Inde,

Upon a steedfe bay,*

trapped in steel.
Covered
with cloth of gold didpred'wele.
Came
ridinglike the god of Armfes, Mars.
of a cloth of Tars,
His coat-armour
was
Couchfed^ of pearlfes
round and great.
whitfe,
His saddle was
of burnt' gold new
ybeat.
A short mantle

Bretfupo
His
And
His
His
A

of rubies red

Of five and

shoulders,
"

fire sparklfng
as
;
hair
like
was
crispfe
ringfes
)Tun,
and glittering
that was
the
as
yellow,

nose

was

fewl freckles

eyen

colour

in his face

were
was

sun.

citrine,"
sanguine ;

ysprent^

yellow and black,"

mingled

And

lion he his

as

"

nigh,his

round,his
lippfes

Betwixen

somewhat

his

hung upon

"

lookingcast.

I reckon

twenty years

his age,

His beard

was

well begunnen

His

was

as

voice

trumpet

"

for to

spring,
thundering;

For

old,through age.
speciesof Spanishmastiff much esteemed in Italyin Chaucer's
* Ox.
*
time.
Rings for the leash.
Company.
'
Or, to transpose the words, a bay steed.
Diversified with flourishes.
Tyrrwhiit.
*
* Burnished.
trimmed.
Laid,or
*"" Bretfull"
" Of
a citron colour.
Sprinkled.
topfull.
*

"

KM

THk

Upon his head he

garland fresh,

IG NT'S

weared

TALE,

^63

of laurel green,

and

pleasantfor

to

Upon

see.

he

his hand

bare

for his

delight,"
An eagle tame, as any lilywhite.
lordfes had he with him there,
A hundred
All armfed,save
their headfes,in their gear,
in all6 manner
Full richfely
thingfes
;
For trusteth well,that dukfes,
earl^s,kingfes,
Were

this noble company,

gathered in

for increase of

love and
chivalry.
About
the king there ran on every part,
Full many
lion and leopart.
a tame
For

to the
wise,these lords,one and all,have come
This
city,on Sunday, about prime,and alighted in the town.
he
this
when
had
this
Theseus,
duke,
brought
worthy knight,
them
into his city,and lodged them
each according to his
degree, feasteth them; and takes such pains to please and to

And

in this

do honour to them, that men

believed that no man's wit or
even
condition might amend
it. But as to the minstrelsy,the service
at the feast,
the great giftsto high and
low, the rich array of
the dais,what
the palace, or as to who sate first or last upon
ladies were
danced
of them
could
or
fairest,
best,or which
best carol and sing,or
"

Who
mostfe feelingly
speakdth of love ;
What
hawkfes sitten on the perch above.
What
hound^s
lyen In the floor adown ;

of all this, I will make

mention
no
proceed
now, but
the
effect of my story : that appears
Now
best.
to
me
the point; and, if it so please you, hearken
:

to

the

comes

"

The

Sunday night,ere day began to spring.

Palamon
the larkfe heard^ sing.
Although it were not day by hour^s two,
Yet sang the lark,
When

"

and

Palamon,

rose

to go

with

holy heart, and with a high desire,

pilgrimageto the benign and blissful Citherea,
I mean
and worthy.
And
he
in her bower
Venus, honourable
walketh forth a few paces unto
the lists,
where her temple was,
and down
he kneeleth, and with humble
cheer and sore
heart
he

on

at

once,

his

said,
"

"

Fairest of

O lady mine, Venus,

fair,
Daughter of Jove, and spouse to Vulcanus,

CANTERBURY

204

TALES,

Thou
gladder of the Mount of Citheron,
For thilk^ love thou haddest to AdonV
Have
pityon my bitter tearfes smart,
And
take mine humble
prayer to thine heart.
! I have

no
language for to tell
of mine hell ;
the torment
mine harmfes not bewray
hearts may
that 1 cannot
so confuse
say :

Alas

Th'

effects

Mine
I am

nor

;'

wele
mercy, lady bright! thou knowest
that
I feel.
and
what
harmfes
seest
thought,
My

But

Consider
for

all

this,and

evermore

that I swear,
of arms.

have

with all my
if ye will but

pity on my pain,as wisely as I shall

:
might be thy true servant
I care
not
to boast
now
help me.
.

Nor ask I not to-morrow

to have
victory,
in this case, nor vainfe glory
Nor renown
Of prizeof armfes,blowen
;
up and down
But I would have fullypossession
Of Emily, and die in her service ;
Find thou the manner
how, and in what wise.

which

be the best,to have victoryover

him, or
may
I
but
mine
that
have
in
over
arms.
lady
me, so
may
my
be the god of war, and you be Venus
And
for though Mars
the
of
influence
if
is
that
in
love,your
goddess
so great
heaven,
have my love.
you please I shall certainly
not

care

he

Thy temple will

And

worship evermo',

thine altar,where

I ride or go,
and firfesbeat,^
I will do sacrifice,
And if ye will not so, my lady sweet.
Then
with a spear
pray I thee,to-morrow
on

That
Then

Arcita

me
through the hearts bear.
I not, when
I have lost my life,
that
win
Arcitfe
her to his wife :
Though
This is the effect and end of my pray^re,
"
Give me
my love,thou blissful lady dear !

and that
done his orison,he did sacrifice,
all
with
due
circumstances,though I do
piteously,
them.
of
And
at the last the statue
present describe
and
made
understood
that
he
a sign ; whereby
shook,
had

Palamon

When
at once
not

reck

at

most

Venus
his prayer

that

was

delay,yet he knew
And
*

with

Adonis.

day accepted.
well

glad heart
"^

For

that his boon

he went*

Betray.

'

though the sign showed

was
granted.

him

home

Prepare,make.

full soon.
*

Turned.

jrmGiirs

THE

third

The

hour

tale.

205

Palamon

unequaP that

began

to go

to the

temple of Venus,
Up

the sun, and

rose

And

to the

temple of

up rose Emily,
Dian
'gan hie ;

"

that she thither with her lad,

Her maidens
with them
the fire they had,
Full readily'*
Th* incdnse,the clothes,and the remenant
all.
That to the sacrifice 'longenshall,

The homfes full of mead, as is the guise;

There lacketh nought to do her sacrifice,
Smoking the temple,full of clothes' fair,
"

"

This
Her

Emily with
body wash'd

she did her

But how

Her

hearts

rite I dare

hair
brightfe

debonair.

with water

was

not

of

well.

in

say, except

combed, untressfed

of a green oak, cerial,*

coroun
her
head was
Upon
set, full fair and

generals:

all ;

^ "

the

In the

astrological
system, the day, from

night,from

sunset

to

meet.

sunrise

sunrise,being each divided

of the

and

to

sunset, and

into twelve

hours,
equal,except

night
day
of this
were
justat the equinoxes. The hours attributed to the jplanet
order
of
planets in the following
unequal sort." Taking the seven
rotation,the Sun, Venus, Mercury, Moon, Saturn, Jupiter and Mars,
the firsthour of the Sunday, reckoning from sunrise,
belonged to the
the
of
second to Venus, the third to Mercury,
Sun, the planet the day,
of allotment,
shall find that the
etc. ; and, continuingthis method
we
twenty-secondhour also belonged to the Sun, and the twenty-thirdto
Venus
that the hour of Venus
reallywas, as Chaucer
; so
says, two
hours before sunrise on the followingday. Accordingly, we
told
are
that the third hour after Palemon
for
the
Venus
the
set out
temple of
It is not
sun
began to go to the temple of Diane.
rose, and Emilie
said that this was
the Moon, but it really was
the hour of Diane
or
;
the
have
for,as we
twenty-thirdhour of Sunday belonging
justseen,
the first
be given to Mercury, and
to Venus, the twenty-fourth
must
hour of Monday
falls in course
to the Moon, the presidingplanet of
that day. After
this Arcite is described
as
walkingto the temple of
Mars [p.207] in the next hour of Mars, that is,the fourth hour of the
d^y.*'"Tyrrw/it/!i.
^
Ready prepared.
Hangings.
the Turkey Oak
This appears to refer to the species called cerres
of
all
the
and
which
is very
of the most
known
one
kinds,
graceful
It
observed
that
the
be
south-east
of
all
common
over
Europe.
may
it is

plainthat the hours

were

never

"

'^

"

"

"

"

the sacrificers

plant that

was

offered."
The
cerial."
oak,

accustomed
dedicated to the
were

oak

was

dedicated

to wear

garlandof

the leaves

of the

the sacrifices were

divinityto whom
the green
to Diana, so Emily wears
"

CaI^TMKBURV

2o6

tales.

the altar,and to
fires she began then to prepare
on
in
rites
other
the
as
men
see
writingsof Statins
perform
may
When
the fire was
of Thebes, and in other old books.
kindled,
Diana
with piteouscheer, she spake thus unto
;
Two

"

"

O chaste
To whom

goddess of

the woodfes green.

both heaven, and earth,and sea is seen
Queen of the regne*of Pluto,dark and low,
of maidens, that mine heart hast know*
Goddess
Full many
a year,
ye wot what I desire,

"

keep

from

me

thy

vengeance
so
cruelly. Chaste
that I desire to remain
a mtiiden

suffered from

Ne

never

will I be

no

and

thy rage,
goddess, thou
all my life,

love

ne

that

Acteon

well

knowest

wife.

of thy company,
and love
knowest, a maiden
a
hunting, and walking in the wild woods, and not to become
I

yet, thou

am

wife

or

mother.
of man.
will I know
the company
and
Now
since
can.
help me, lady,
ye may
For those three formfes that thou hast in thee,
And Palamon
that hath such love to me.
And
eke Arcite that loveth me
so
sore.
This grace I prayfethee withouten
more,

Nought

that you

will
sendfe love and

betwixt them
two ;
their
hearths
away
so,
That all their hotfe love and their desire.
And all their busy torment
and their fire,
Be quench'd,or tumfed in another place.
And if so be thou wilt do me
no
grace.
Or if my destinybe shaped so
That I shall needfes have one
of them two,
And

from

me

peace

turn

thenj
send

me

him

that most
cleans

Behold,godddss of
The

desireth

me.

chastity,

bitter tears that on my cheek^s fall.

thou art maid, and keeperof us all.
maidenhood
thou keep, and well conserve,
while I live a maid, I will thee serve."

Since

My
And

fires burnt clear upon the altar whilst Emily thus prayed,
suddenly she saw a strange sight. One of the fires was
quenched, then lightedagain ; and immediately after
instantly
also quenched, and was
the other fire was
The

but

all agone.
*

Realm.

Known.

KNIGHTS

THE

And

as

do when

it

it made

quenched

And

they bum.

TALE,

as
whistling,

these

said

one,

sore

so

"

Ah

"

daughter,stint

But

thine heaviness.

it is

the goddfeshigh
affirmed,
etfem* word written and confirmed.
shalt be wedded
of tho**
unto
one
have for thee so muchel care and woe
;
which of them may I not tell.
unto

Among
by

And
Thou
That

brands

anon,

bloodydroppfesmany

aghast was Emily,

well nigh mad, and 'gan to cry
was
For she ne wistfe what it signified.
for fearfethus she cried,
But onfely
And wept, that it was
piteousto hear.
And
tnerewithal Diana
'gan appear
With bow in hand, right as a huntferess,
And

wet

of the brands

at the end
outran

As it were
For which
That she

207

Farewell,for

here

I may

longer dwell.

no

fires that burn on

altar have declared
thee the
The
unto
my
of love." And
with that word the arrows
issue of thy adventure
in the quiverof the goddess clattered fast and rang as she went
For
which
forth and vanished.
Emily was much astonished,
amounteth
and said, " What
this,alas ? I put myself in thy
And
then she
!"
protection,Diana, and in thy disposition

goeth

by the

home

nearest

way.

hour
of Mars
that followed
The
next
this,^Arcite walked
forth to the temple of the fierce God
to do his sacrifice with all
the rites of his pagan
manner.
With

piteousheart

and

high devotion,

Right thus to Mars he said his orison :

"
O strong^ God, that in the regnfes'
cold
Of Thracfe honotir'd art, and lord yhold,
And hast in every regne, and every land
Of armfes all the bridle in thine hand.
And them forti^nest as thee lust devise.
Accept of me my piteoussacrifice !
If so be that my youthfemay
deserve.
And that my might be worthy for to serve
Thy godhead, that I may be one of thine,
Then
pray I thee to rue upon my pine.

By the
Venus

that
discovered

sorrow
was

was

....

Those.

heart

own

by Vulcan, have
knowest, young

I am, as thou
with
love hurt
I believe,
"

in thine

more

See note

than
on

page

ever

when
thy love for
pityalso on my grief.
and ignorant,
and, as
was
any other living

205,

"

Reahns.

2o8

CANTERBURY

she
I sink

For

TALES,

that makes
And
or float.

endure

all this woe

recks
well I know, before she will
whether
not
with
I
show me
must
strength win her in the place.
mercy,
I
And
well
know, w. thout help or grace from thee,my strength
will avail nothing.
in my battle,for the sake of
Then
help me, Lord, to-morrow
burned in thine own
the fire that once
breast, as well as for
I to-morrow
the fire that now
burneth
So
that
me.
act,
may
have
creature.

me

the
Mine

victory;
glory.

be the travail ; all thine be the

honour
of any place,and
Thy sovereign tenij le I will mcst
in
and
labour
most
to please thee.
thy strong craft,
always
all the arms
in thy temple I will hang my banner, and
And
of
I
I
until
that
and
will
find
day die,
;
evermore,
my
company
And
I will also bind myself
eternal fire to burn before thee.
to this vow.
My beard, my hair, that hangeth low down, that
of shears,I will give to thee,
or
never
yet felt the touch of ra^or
while I live.
and be thy true servant

Now, lord,have ruth upon

I ask
Give me the victory,

sorrows

my

sore

"

more.

no

Arcite the strong ceased his prayer, the ringsthat hung on

the temple-door,and also the doors, clattered full fast,and
alarmed.
somewhat
The
fires burnt so brightly
Arcite was
As

upon

the altar,
That

it 'ganall the

temple for

light;

to

forth by the ground ; and Arcite

incense into the fire,
immediately raisinghis hand, cast more
and performed further rites ; and, at last.

sweet

smell

The
And
Full

For

was

given

his hauberk

ring ;
murmuring
low and dim, that said^ thus
Victory;
and glory.
honour
which he gave to Mars
statue

with

of Mars

began

that sound

thus with joy and

And
to his lodging,as glad

he heard

**

**

"

hope
as

to

fare

well,Arcite

soon

returned

bird
is of the

bright^sun.

there began such strife in heaven for the granting of

And anon
these signsbetween
Venus, the goddess of love,and Mars, the
stem'god armipotent,that Jupiter was busily employed to
stop it ; until

KNIGHTS

THE

That

knew

Found

so

in his

TALE,

209

the cold,
the pal^ Saturnus
many* of adventures old,
old experienceand art

please all parties. As it is trulysaid,age hath

wisdom
and
custom
great advantage ; in age is both
; men

the

to

means

old outrun
strife and dread

may

but

the

began

to find

Saturn,
than

to

Saturn
to
cause
anon,
(although it is against his nature)

cease

remedy.

outrede.*

not

"

"

My

my career, that hath

of.
knoweth
any man

so

dear

wide

daughter Venus," quoth

a

scope,

is

more

ful
power-

is the drenching in the sea so wan

;
Mine is the prisonin the darkfe cote ;
and hanging
Mine is the strangling,
by the throat ;
The murmur,
and the churlfes rebelling,
and the privy empoisoning.
The groining,*
I do vengeance, and plaincorrection
Whiles I dwell in the sign of the lion.
Mine is the ruin of the highfehalls.
of the towers, and the walls.
The falling
the
miner
or the carpenter.
Upon
I slew Sampson in shaking the pilldr.
And mine be eke the maladies cold.
The darkfe treason, and the castas* old.
Mine

My looking is

the father

of

pestilence.

I shall take diligent

that Palamon,
no
more.
care
weep
shall
his
is thine own
have
knight,
lady,as thou hast
Nevertheless, Mars, too, shall help his knight.
promised him.
be sometimes
Betwixt you two there must
peace :
Now

who

All* be ye not of one complexion

That ilke day causeth such division,
I am
thine ayel,"
ready at thy will ;
thou
no
Weep
mor^, I thy lust' fulfil."

will I stint of

the gods above, Mars

and Venus, and tell
for
of
effect
the
which
I began.
you plainlyas
the feast in Athens
Great
the day of the combat.
was
on
of that May made
And also the lusty season
to be
every one
in such pleasure,
Now

That
And

*
*

all the

Monday joustenthey,and dance.

spenden it in Venus' high service,

*
' Discontent.
So much.
Outstripin council or wisdom.
"
*
Contrivances
Grandfather.
Though.
^plots.
Pleasure,desire.
"

can

CANTERBUR

210

TALES.

they should rise earlyon

fight,they went at night to rest :
because

But
the

that

the

to

morrow

see

when the day 'gan sprinof,"

And on the morrow
Of horse and harness,noise and clattering,
in the host^lries all about.
There was
And to the palacerode there many
rout
a
steeds
and
Of lordfes,
on
palfreys.
upon
There raayst thou see devisingof harness*
and so richfe wrought and well
So uncouth*
and of steel ;
Of goldsmithry,of brouding,^
and trapptires,*
The shieldfes bright,testeres,*
Gold-beaten
helms,hauberks,and coat-armours
;
Lordfes in paramount on their coursers,

Kni^ht^sof retinue,and

squi^rs,
buckfeling,
with lain^rs' lacfng;
Girding* of shieldfes,
There, as need is,they were nothing idle ;
There foaming steed^s on the golden bridle
also,
Gnawing ; and fast the armourers
With fileand hammer, prickingto and fro ;

Nailing the spears, and

eke

helmets

Yeomen
on
foot,and knavfes^ many one,
With shortfe staves, thick as they may
gone ;
Pipes,trumpets, nak^res,^and clarioiins
That in the battle blowen
bloody souns
;
The palacefull of people up and down.
Here three,there ten, holding their questioiin,
of these Theban
two
:
Divining'*^
knightfes
Some
saiden thus,some
said it shall be so ;
Some
helden with him with the blackfe beard.
with the ballfed,"
Some
with the thick-haired;
some
Some
said he looked grim, and woulde fight;
He hath a sparth'^*
of twenty pounds of weight.

Thui
.ise.

after the sun

began to
The
with minstrelsy
great Theseus, who from sleep is waked
and noise of music, keeps yet the chamber
of his rich
both alike brought in
palace until the Theban
knights were
honour
to the palace.
The
duke is seated at a window, arrayed as though he were
enthroned
an
god. The people press forward quickly to see
*
*

was

the hall full of

divining long

Armour.
Uncommon"

fanciful" ele^nt; in short,as

of
the
things intimated by the same
very opposite
"

Embroidery.

nearlyas possiblethe
word

at

present.

Head-pieces.
Trappingsof the horses.
"
^ Commonfolk.
Rubbing,polishing.
Straps,or thongs.
" A kind of brazen drum.
"o
Guessing,conjecturing.
"Bald.
"Axe,orhalbert.
"

"

KNIGHT

THE

him, and

do

to

command

his decision.
scaffold cried

and

herald

him, and

to

reverence

7 ALE.

t^

'"

also
!"

Ho

to hearken

till that

to

his

the

noise of
all were
when
he saw
he
silent,
the mighty duke's will :
thus showeth
"
that it were
The lord of his high prudence, hath considered
this
in
destruction
to
to gentle blood
fight
undertaking after
of mortal
battle. In order,therefore,to prevent
the manner
No
death, he will modify his firstpurpose.
on
pain of
man,
shall either send or bring any manner
of shot,*
the loss of life,
A

the

on

people

done

was

; and

"

pole-axe,or short knife,into the lists. Neither

with biting points,shall any man
sword
draw, or
or

any
bear

short
by his

his fellow more

ride unto
Neither
shall any man
than
He
with a sharp spear.
one
course
thrust,if he pleases,
may
he
himself.
And
is at fault shall be
defend
that
to
on
foot,
taken, not slain,and brought unto the stake that shall be set

side.

There
he must
be taken by force,and there
up on either side.
if it so happen that the chiefta'^n on either
And
he must
abide.
side be taken or slain,the tourneying shall last no longer.
God
With

Go

now

your

way

voice

"

fast ;

your fill;
this is the lord^s will."

of the people touched

did
merrily
they cry,

The
and

speeds you : go forth,and lay on

long sword, and with mac^ nght

to

the

heavens,

so

loudly

such a lord that is so good.

God save
He willeth no destruction of blood !
"

Up
And

go

the trumpets

and

ride the
to the listfes

the

melody

company,

By ordinance, through the citylarge,

Hanging with cloth of gold,and not with

serge.

Thebans
Like a lord rides this noble duke, with the two
on
and
either side ; and after,rode the queen
Emily, and after
them
and so on in the order of their degree.
another company,
and reach the list betimes,
And thus they pass through the city,
the
of
before it was
day.
yet fullyprime
full rich and high,
Emily,
queen,
And
other ladies in degrees about.
Unto the seat^s pressethall the rout.
And westward,thorough the gatfesunder Mart'
of his part,
Arcite,and eke the hundred
When

set was

Theseus
and

Hypolita the

'

Darks,arrows,

"^

etc,
S

Mars.

See p. 198, above.

canterburV

2\2

With
And

tales.

red,is entered rightanon

banners

in that selve moment

Is,under Venus, eastward

With

In all the
never

two

none

so

banner

Palamon
in the

place,
white,and hardy cheer and

face.

world, though we seek them up and down, there were

such companies" so even, and so alike. There were
wise
be able to say that any had the advantage
as to

of others in worthiness,
to guess
by
estate, or age ; so equally,
their appearance,
In two
fair ranks they
were
they chosen.
of their names
themselves.
When
had been
prepare
every one
read over, to show that in their numbers
there was
no
guile,
Then
"

Do

the

were
now

your

gatfesshut,and cri^s loud,

devoir,youngfe knightfes
proud 1

"

The heralds left their prickingup and down.

Now
ringed^ the trump and clariotin.
There is no more
to say, but east and west,
In go the spearfes
sadly*in the rest ;
In go'ththe sharps spur into the side.
There see men
who
can
joustand who can ride ;
There shiver shaftfesupon shoulders thick ;
He feeleth through the hearth-spoonthe prick.

Up springen spearfestwenty
Out

the swordfes

go

as

foot

the silver

height;
bright;
on

The

and to-shred ;
helmets there to-hewen
Out burst the blood,with stemfe streamfes red
With mighty maces
the bonfes they to-brest.*

He

through the thickest of the throng 'gan threst.*

There stumble steedfes strong,and down
go'thall ;
He rolleth under foot as doth a ball.
He fejmeth*on his foot with a trunche6un.
And him hurt^leth* with his horse adown.
He through the body hurt is,and since take,
Maugre' his head, and brought unto the stake,
As foreword^ was, rightthere he must
abide.
Another led ig on that other side.

time Theseus
them
selves,
to rest, to refresh themcauses
to drink if they please. Often,during the day, have
these two Thebans
met
together,and wrought each other woe ;
each of them hath unhorsed
the other.
And

some

and

There was
no
tigerin the vale of Golaphay,
When
that her whelp is stole when it is lite,*
So cruel on the hunt, as is Arcite,
J

Firmly,ctcadily.

fi

Hurleth.

"

In

"

Burst.

spiteof.

"
'

Thrust.

Agreement.

Pusheth,laaheth.
8

Little.

THE

For

^ij

TALE.

KmCrHTS

this Palamon
;
is so fell lion
n'
Ne in Bclmdrie
there
That hunted is,or is for hunger wood,*
Ne of his prey desireth so the blood,
As Palamon
to slayhis foe Arcite :
The jealousstrokes on their helmets bite ;
Outninneth
blood on both their sidfes rede *

jealousheart,upon

Some

And

time

the sun
went
to attack Palamon
as
ere

And

And

his

made

end there is

an

on

every deed

to

rest, the strong

he

was

King Emetrius

began

fightingwith Arcite,

sword,deep

in his flesh to bite.

and drawn
by the force of twenty is he taken, unyielding,

of Palamon, the strong

stake ; and in the rescue
down
and
is
borne
Emetrius, for all his
King
King Lycurgus
;
strength,is forced out of his saddle a sword's length,Palamon
taken.
But all for nothing : he
struck him
before he was
80
was
brought to the stake.

towards

the

His hardy heartfe might him helpen nought.

He must
abiden,when that he was caught,

By force,and
Who
That

And
were

when
thus

eke

sorroweth
mustfe

no

Theseus

by composition.

now,
more

go

this,he cried aloud

saw

fighting,
every
"

Ho

Palamon,
again to fight?

but woful

one

to the

people who

of them,

no

more,
I will be trufe judge,and

for it
not

is^done

party.

shall have Emily,

Arcite of Thebes
hath by his fortiinfe her ywon."
That

Immediately there began such

noise of

people,

For joy of this,so loud and high withal.

that the list^s wouldfe fall.
It seemM
fairfeVenus
do above ?
What
now
can
What
saith she now
? what doth this queen
of love ?
for
But weepeth so,
wanting of her will.
Till that her tearfes in the list^s fill^
She said,*" I am
ashamed
doubt^less.*'
"
Satumus
saidfe,
Daughter, hold thy peace :
Mars hath his will,his knight hath all his boon,
"
And by mine head, thou shalt be easM
soon

The

trumpeters, with

loudly cry and

yell
"

'

Mad.

loud minstrelsy the heralds that SO

in all their joy for the success
of Dan

the

are

"

Red.

"

Fall.

tAl^TERBURY

214

Arcite.
But hearken
miracle there befell
his helmet,
And
He

to

TALES,

the noise is stopped a little; a

This fierce Arcite hath taken off

me

anon.

for to show his face,

prickethendlong in the largfe
place,
his

on

courser

Looking upward upon his Emily ;

she againsthim cast a friendly
eye
to speaken in commune.
as
(For women,
They follow all the favour of Fortune).

And

cheer,as his in heart.

Out of the ground a Fury infernal start,
From
Pluto sent, at request of Saturn,
And

For

And
And
He

all his in

was

his horse

which

for fearfe'gan to turri,

founder'd as he
that Arcite may takfe keep.

leaptaside,and
ere

pitchedhim

on

the

pommel'

leap;

of his

head,

That in that placehe lay as he were

dead.
His breast to-broken with his saddle-bow.
As black he lay as any coal or crow.
in his face.
So was
the blood yrunnen

Immediately he

out, with sore heart,to the palaceof

of his harness,and brought
out
and
in his
bed, for he was
yet alive,

borne

was

Theseus.

There

he

softlyand

quicklyto

was
a

cut

senses,
and

alway cryingafter Emily.

home
Duke
to Athens, his
Theseus, with his train,is come
bliss
venture
; for notwithstandingthis adcity,in great solemnity and
And
had befallen,
he would not have all discomforted.
said also that Arcite should not die : he should be healed
men
And of another thingthey were
of his hurt.
glad, that of all
"

slain,though they

combatants
there were^ none
hurt,and especiallyone, whose
the

by

breast-bone

had

sorely

pierced

spear.
To other woundfes,
and to broken arms,
Some hadden
and some
hadden
salvfes,

And
order

were

been

pharmacies
to

save

of herbs.

their lives.

charms.

And
also they drank
This noble duke.

of sage

in

[all
was

as

he well can,
Comforteth
and honbuieth
every
man,
And madfe revel all the longfe
night
Unto the strangfelordfes,
as was
right.
As

-And

trulythere

was

no

discomfort
*

The

top.

held there,but

KNIGHTS

THE

TALE,

usual] at jousts and tourneys ; for

defeat : falling
is but an adventure.
and
stake, unyielding,
person all alone,without

was

no

[humiliating]

And to be led by force

taken
by twenty knights

be

to

there

ai5

"

unto
one

more"and

hurried forth by arms, feet,

and toe, and also his steed driven with staves by footmen, both
and also servants," [all
yeomen
this]was imputed to Palamon
held
no
it
villainy; no
man
cowardly.
Shortly, Theseus,
to stop all rancour
and envy, let cry the praiseand honour
side as o f other,
every sidfe.likeas other's brother ;
after their degree,
gave them giftfes
held a feasts day^s three ;
Silly

And

and
a

conveyed

kings,in

the

considerable

of

well

as

And
And

one

worthy

out

manner,

of the town

to

distance.
home

And

There

went

was

no

but

more

good day

the rightsway.
"
Farewell !
Have

man

every

"

"

"

breast of Arcite swells,and

The
the pain increaseth
more
his
heart.
skill
in
of
the
The clotted blood,
and more
at
spite
of the leech, corrupteth and remains
in his body ; as neither
The
bleedingnor cupping,nor drink of herbs may help him.
natural expulsiveor animal
not
virtue [of the system] may
throw offnor expel the venom.
The pipes of his lungs began to
and
downwards
muscle
in his breast is destroyed with
swell,
every
laxative can
the venom
and the corruption. Neither vomit not
he obtain,in order to save
his life. The whole region is burst.
Nature

hath

now

no

And

where
certainly,
Farewell physic ; go

The

long and

domination
nature

the

bear

will not

werche,*

to church.

man

short of the matter

is,that Arcite must
for Emily and for Palamon, that was
spake to them:"

sends
therefore
cousin,and thus
"

Nought

Declare

one

To

may

the woful

you my
But I bequeath the service

To

Work.

of my

mine

heart

smart

ghost*

aboven

Alas

every creature,
that my liffemay no longer 'dure.
the woe
! alas the painfes
strong

That
Alas

I for you
the death

Alas

you

Since

"

in
spirit

point of all my sorrow's

lady that I lovfe most,

have

of
departing^
^

suffered,and

! alas mine

Spirit.

our

Emily

so

long !

!
!

company
^

Separation,

die.

He

his dear

CANTERBURY

9i6

TALES,

Alas mine hearths queen ! alas my wife \

Mine hearths lady,ender of my life !
What
to have ?
is this world ? what asketh men
Now
with his love,now
in his cold6 grave

"

withouten

Alone,
"

company

any

Emily !
my
in
armfes
And softfetake me
tway
your
what
I say.
For love of God, and hearkeneth
I have here with my cousin Palamon
Farewell

sweet

farewell mine

"

strifeand rancour
Had
a
day ygone
many
For love of you, and eke for jealousy
;
*
And Jupiter,
so wis
my soulfe gie,
To speaken of a servant
properly.
With allfecircumstances
tru"ly,
That is to say, truth,honour, and knighth^ad,
Wisdom, humbless,estate,and high kindred,
Freedom, and all that 'longethto that art.

So Jupiterhave of my soulfe part,

know
I none
As in this world rightnow
ne
So worthy to be loved as Palamon,
That serveth you, and will do all his life.
And ifthat ye shall ever be a wife,

Forgetnot ralamon, that gentleman."

his speech began to fail. For from his
with that word
feet up to his breast arrived the cold of death that had
taken
overAnd
in his two
him.
the vital
arms
yet, moreover,
The
intellect alone, that
strength is lost,and utterlygone.
dwelled in his sick and sore heart

And

when the heartfe feltfedeath ;

failen,
Dusking his eyen two, and failed breath :
But on his lady yet he cast his eye ;
His lastfeword was,
Mercy, Emily !
Gan

"

"

His

spiritchanged house,

and

went"

that

to

place, from

tell aught of. I

myself come, I cannot
I
I
therefore.
and
find
am
no
cease
divine,
nothing about
souls in this register. And
even
though they had written
desire to tell their opinions:
where
souls dwell, I have
no
Arcite is cold ; let Mars
guide his soul thither.

whence, having

never

"

Shriek'd Emily,
and howleth
And Theseus
his sister took

Swooning,and
What
both
sorrow

boots

it to
evening and

when

Palamon

bare her from

the corpse away.

prolong the time

morning. Women

that their husbands

*

anon

are

Surely,

by tellinghow
m

gone

such

cases

from

she wept
have

such

them, that for

KNIGHTS

THE

the

most

malady

TALE.

they grieve in this way,

at last they certainly
die.

part
that

or

?i7

else fall into such

Infinitebe the

and the tears

sorrows
Of old6 folk,and folk of tender years,
there none
So g^eat a weeping was
certain
When
Hector was
ybrought,all fresh yslain,
for death of this Theban,
As that there was
For him there weepeth bothfe child and man.
At Troy, alas ! the pitythat was
there,
Scratchingof cheekfes,rending eke of hair,
'*
"Why wouldest thou be dead ? these women
cry,
haddest gold enough, and Emily ?
"And
"

No

man

might gladden the

Theseus

Duke

except his old father

Egeus,
That

knew this worldfes transmutation,

it tumen
As he had seen
up and down,
Joy after woe, and woe aftdr gladness;

and

he showed

Theseus

examples

and

similar

cases.

man," quoth he,

as there died never
That he ne lived in earth in some
degree ;
Yet so there livfed never
man," he seyd,
"
he ne deyd.*
In all this world,that sometime
but
This world n' is
a thoroughfarefull of woe,
And we be pilgrimspassingto and fro :
Death is an end of every worldlysore."
"

Right

"

And
in addition to all this,he said much
to the effect that
more
he should wisely exhort the people to re comfort themselves.
considers
where
the
Duke
Theseus, with busy care, now
sepulchre of good Arcite may be best and most honourably, for
In the end he determines
that there,
of his degree, made.
one
had the battle between
them for
where firstArcite and Palamon
and
where
Arcite
had
selfsame
that
sweet
in
love,
grove,
green,
desires,his complaints,and felt the
poured forth his amorous
the firewherein
hot fires of love,he would make
to accomplish
them
to
all the rites of burial.
Immediately he commanded
hack and hew the old oaks, and lay them in a row, in bundles,
With
swift feet his officers run
well prepared to bum.
and
And
after
ride immediately at his commandment.
this
"

Theseus

sent

for

bier,
and

With

cloth of 2

jid,the
'

it all

overspread
had,

richest that he

Died,

2i8

CANTERBUR

TALES,

of the samfe suit he clad Arcite.

Upon his hand^s were his gloveswhite,

And

his head

Eke

on

And

in his hand

crown

of laurel green,

full brightand keen.

a sword
laid him bare the visageon the bier,
Therewith
he wept, that pitywas
to hear.
And, for the peopleshould^ see him all,
it was
When
day he brought them to the hall,
That roareth of the cryingand the soun.
Then came
this woful Theban, Palamon,
With floating
beard,and rugged ashy hairs,
In clothfes black,ydropp^d all with tears.
And
(passingother of weeping) Emily,
The
ruefullest of all the company.
He

inasmuch
noble and
as that the service should be the more
Theseus
caused
rich,in accordance with Arcite*s rank, Duke
three steeds to be led forth,with trappingsof glitteringsteel,
with the arms
And
the
of Dan
Arcite.
and covered
upon
and
of
there
folk
whom
his
bore
sat
one
white,
steeds,great
;
held
in his hands, the third bore
shield,another
up his spear
and harness of which were
with him his Turkish bow, the case
With
burnished
sorrowful
cheer they rode forth a
of
gold.
the grove.
short distance towards
The noblest of the Greeks present carried the bier upon their
shoulders,with slow pace and with eyes red and wet, through
all hung with black.
the city,by the principalstreet,that was
with the
covered
over
And, wondrously high, the street was
On
the
old
hand
the
the
other
went
same.
right
Egeus, on
side the Duke
; with vessels of fine gold in their hands, full of
and
milk,
blood, and wine ; also Palamon, with a great
honey,
and
afterwards woeful Emily, with fire in her hand,
company,
then the custom, to do the office of funeral service. There
as was
service of the
at the
was
high labour, and great preparation,
that with his green top reached the heavens,
making of that fire,
whilst its arms
stretched to a breadth of twenty fathoms
; that
is to say, the boughs extended
far.
Of straw there had
so
been firstlaid many
how the fire was raised to such
a load. But
to the names
a height,or as
by which the trees were known,

And

As

oak,fir,
birch,aspe,*alder,helm,^popldre.

Willow, elm, plane,ash, box, chestnut,lime,laur^re,*

Maple, thorn,beech,hazel,yew, whipul tree,'
or.
How
Nor
^
2

The
The

aspen,

they were
how

so

evergreen

the

fell'dshall

goddfes

rannen

well known

oak.

for its

Laurel

be told for

not

up

and

down

quiveringleaves.
*

Unknown,

me

KNIGHTS

THE

Disherited
In which

TALE.

219

of their habitatioUn,
they whilom woned' in rest and

peace,

and hamadryades;
Nymphfes,faunfes,

Nor

how the beastfes and the bird^s all

Fledden for fearfewhen the wood was
fall.
of the light,
Nor how the ground aghast was
That was
to see
sunnfe bright;
not wont
no
Nor how the fire was
firstwith stre,'
couched*
And then with dryfestickfescloven a-three,
and spicery,
And then with greenfewood
And then with cloth of gold and with pierrie;*
And garlandshanging with full many
flower ;
a
The myrrh, th' incense with al so sweet od6ur ;
all this,
Nor how Arcitfe lay among
Nor what rich^ss about his body is ;
the guise.
Nor how that Emily, as was
Put in the fire of funeral service ;
when
Nor how she swooned
she made the fire,
Nor what she spake,nor what was
her desire ;
in the fire then cast,
Nor what jewelsmen
When

that the fire

great, and burntfe fast ;

their
their spear,
some
shield,and some
which
that
vestiments
of their
theywear ;
And cuppfesfull of wine, and milk,ancl blood,
that burnt as it were
wood ;*
Unto the fire,
Nor how the Greekfes with a hug6 rout
Three timfes riden all the fireabout.
Upon the left hand, with a high shouting,
And thries with their spearfes
clattering
;
was

Nor
And

how

And

thries how the ladies 'gan to cry ;

homeward
how that led was
Emily ;
is
burnt
Arcite
how
to ashes cold ;

Nor
Nor

cast

held all that night ; nor

the
how
how
the lich-wake was
to describe
these
not
I
Greeks
delay
wake-plays; nor
play.
who
bore him
who wrestled best naked, anointed with oil,nor
best without these advantages ; I will not tell either how they
after the play is done, but shortly
to Athens
have all gone home
end of my long tale.
and make
an
go to the point,
nor

By process, and
All stinted ' is the
Of Greekfes,
by one

by length of certain years,

mourning and the tears
generalassent.

there was
a parliament held at Athens
Then, it seems,
upon
and
which points an alliance with
points
cases, among

certain

1
"

Dwelled.
Mad.

Laid.

Stopped.

'

Straw,

Precious

stones,

CANTERBURY

220

certain countries

TALES,

also of

receivingfrom

the
full submission.
Thebans
This noble Theseus, therefore,
sends
for the gentlePalamon, who knew
not the cause, nor
why, but
in his black clothes,sorrowfully,to the high commandment.
came
Then
Theseus
sent for Emily.
When
hushed,
seated,and the whole place was
they were
and when
Theseus
had remained
for a time, before any word
his
fixed as was
from his wise breast, with his eyes
came
custom, and with a sad visage,he sighed again and again,and

afterwards

was

thus he

spoken of, as

spake his will.

of the cause
**The firsts Mover
above,
When
he firstmade
the fairfechain of love,
his intent.
Great was
the effect,
and high was
Well wist he why, and what thereof he meant
;
For with that fair^chain of love he bound
The fire,
the air,the water, and the lond
In certain bound^s that they may not flee :
That samfe princeand mover
eke (quoth he)
Hath 'stablished in this wretched world a-down,
Certain^ day"s and duration
To all that are engendered in this place,

Over the whichfe "ky,they may not pace,

well abridge.
All may they yet those dayfes

No

authorityneed be cited,for it
decision.
I wish to explain my

but
order

is

proved by experience,
Men, then, may by this

discern well that the Mover

is stable and eternal.

Men
(foolsonly excepted)know well that each part is derived from
hath not taken his commencement
its whole.
For nature
from
a
part or fragment of a thing, but of a thing that is perfect
thence
and stable ; and which
descending [or degenerating]
becomes
he
corruptible. And therefore in his wise provision,
hath so well guarded his ordinances, that species of things
and progress shall endure by successions,
not be in themselves
That
eternal.
this is the truth thou mayest
understand
even
what
the
by
eye sees.
Lo ! the oak, that hath so longfe
nourishing
From timfe that it *ginnethfirstto spring,
And
hath so long a life,
as we
see,
may
Yet at the lastfewasted is the tree.
Considereth
eke,how that the hardfe stone
Under
our
foot,on which we tread and gone,^
Yet wasteth it,as it li*th by the way.
*
The broadfe river some
time waxeth drey.

"Go.

Dry

KNIGHT'S

THE

The
Then

Of

and

man

term

or

the

town"s
greatfe

may

see

ye

woman

see

we

see

TALE.

we

that all

wane

and

thinghath

also that

221

wend ;
end.
an

they must

needs be in

one

other,that is to say,

in youth or elles age

be dead, the King^ as shall a page ;
He must
in the deepfe
in his bed, some
Some
sea,
in the largfe
as
Some
men
see
field,
may
;
There helpethnought, all goeth thilkfe way ;
I well say that all thing shall dey.*
Then
may

is prince,and
? who
his
into
all
which,
converting
cause
proper will,from
And
against this it avails not for
to say truth,it is derived.
of
rank
strive.
to
any
any livingcreature

Who

this but

maketh

the king
Jupiter,

of all ?"

Then
To

and
due
and
a

man

and

is it wisdom, as it thinketh me,

maken
virtue of necessity.

decline ; and
which
is
cannot
that well which
we
murmureth
whoso
a
aught commits
to us all. And
folly,
who guides everything. And
is a rebel to Him
certainly
to die in his flower and excellence,
hath the most honour
Then
honoured
of his good name.
hath he dishe is sure
when
neither his friend nor himself.
take

gladderought his friend be of his death,

with honour is yieldenup his breath,
When
is for age.
when his name
Than
appallfed^
is his vassalag^e.
For all forgotten
And

a man's
is it best,for a worthy reputation,to die when
The
this
is
wilfulness.
of
all
best.
the
is
at
name
contrary
why have we gloom that good Arcite,
Why do we murmur?
the flower of chivaliy,is departed with duty and honour,

Then

Out

of this foulfe prisonof this life?

love him
his wife here, who
so
well,
them?
Can
he thank
in discontent
concerning his welfare?
bit. They offend both his soul and
a
Nay, God knows, never
their desires ! How
themselves
not amend
; and yet they may
I
this
that
after sorrow
of
but
I conclude
long series,
may
and thank
advise that we be merry
Jupiterfor all his grace ;
make
from
hence, I advise that we
and before we
depart

Why

are

his cousin

"

and

Die.

Weak, feeble.

CANTERB

22 2

of two

sorrows

where
there
amendment.
"'

one

is

now

UR

perfect and
here

most

TALES.

everlastingjoy. And look 1

I will begin and make
sorrow,

"

this is my full assent,

With all the advice here of my parliament,
That gentlePalamon, your owen
knight,
and might,
That serveth you with heart,and will,
hath
since
first
And ever
him knew,
done
ye
him rue.
That ye shall of your grace upon
And take him for your husband
and for lord j
Lend me your hand, for this is our accord.

Sister,"
quoth he,

womanly pity. He is a king's brother's

your
and
a poor
though he were
pardie ;
batchelor,since he
son,
for you
hath served you so many
such
a
year, and hath had
it
be
believe
must
for
me
considered,
gentle
great adversity,
;
ought to exceed mere
justice."
mercy
Let

us

now

see

Then

said he thus to Palamon

the knight ;
I trow there needeth littlesermoning
To maken
to this thing.
you assenten
Come
and
take
near,
your lady by the hand.*'
"

And

by

shortlythe bond of matrimony was made

all the counsel of the baronage ; and thus

between

with bliss and eke with melody

Palamon
ywedded Emily.
And God, that all this widfe world hath wrought.
Send him his love,that hath it dear ybought ;
is Palamon, in all his weal
For now
and in hele.*
in
bliss,
richdssfe,
Living
him
loveth
And
so tenderly.
Emily
And he her serveth all so gentlely,
there wordfes them between
That never
was

Hath

Of
nor

jealousy,

evil.
endeth Palamon

of other
Thus

and
"

Emily.

Health.

them

I^NIGHT'S

THE

REMARKS
took

iHAUQER
*

THE

ON

the ^tory

Kni"ht's Tale~^

TALE.

i2J

KNIGHT'S

TALE/

that

forms the subjectof the

from
Boccaccio' ancTslightly
mainly

author^ Statius. ancTDry den took the

It may
tend somewhat
Chaucer.
fi-oin
to
sanieTtbry
illustrate generally the character of the firstgreat English poet
from

his

to compare

poet
on

on

the

jhe
*

one

older

'

with
Knight's Tale
hand, and with the

the other.
Boccaccio
devotes

Teseide

'

Knight's Tale

of the Italian
'

of

Dryden

first books
to
the mere
cedents
antethe
with
Amazons
the
war
story,
; the
of
in their country after his marriage
Theseus
protracted stay
with
the Amazonian
towards
Queen, Hypolila; his return
Athens
the ladies who
have
lost their
; the meeting with
husbands
the
Creon
and
the
campaign
against
;
findingand
;
back
with
Theseus
Athens
the
to
two
bringing
knights :
young
and
it is only with the third book that the story reallybegins,
by the introduction of Emily into the garden that surrounds
of

the

the

the

two

as

the prison of Palamon

and
Arcite.
Chaucer
dismisses
the
whole
of these in some
hundred
lines.
two
Boccaccio
Arcite see Emily first ; Chaucer
makes
givesthat
and
advantage to Palamon,
thereby makes the commencement
harmonize
better with the end of the story, as well as with the
more
gentlelovingcharacter that the English poet has assigned
to the successful rival. But perhaps one
of the most
remarkable
of all the features of the contrast
between
the poets, is their
of the effect upon
view
the two
knights of their mutually
the
seeing and
loving Emily ; in Boccaccio
they are
quintessenceof amiabilityto each other ; and one is tempted
I
to ask why the story should continue
seem
; it reallydoes not
much"
to the partiesthemas
even
though it would matter
1
of the two
selves
which
obtain the lady ; but
should
turn !
to Chaucer, and who
will forgetthe scene
after once
readingit ? i
It is a grand and
difficult position" that of two
very dearly
attached
friends suddenly changed by the jealousiesof love
into fierce and unappeasable enemies
grandly and
; but most
in little
triumphantly does Chaucer
through it. Even
pass
touchesjthedifference between the two poets is no less strikingly
"

'

with

apparent.

Chaucer,

whole

of the story, which

are

tenor

The^passages
marked

by
to

art, seeing that the

is in strict accordance

with the

less directlyfrom
Boccaccio
or
englished more
in the Chaucer
Six Text
Henry Ward
Society's
of Arcite's death is precisely
The description
paralof Atys in Statius's Thebais^
viii.637-651.

Mr.

of the Tale.
{)rint
el (Skeat)
that

consummate

canter^urV

bH

tales

of the middle
feelingsand customs
ages, dees not admit of the
result being determined
by the will or wisl e of Emily, keeps
her shining like a star over the lovers to guide their wandering
Boccaccio
paratively
combarks, but also almost as distant as a star.
it
her
be
understood
that
to
vulgarises
by allowing
she sees the lovers at their prisonwindows
as she plays in the
is
admiration.
and
with
their
not
displeased
garden,
of Perithous,
is set free ;
Arcite,by the friendlyinterposition
but, lover like,has no sooner
escaped the evil he dreaded
his absence
t)fconfinement,than h" reipines
at the other evil
from the place where he might at least hope to see his mistress*
"

"

this a difficultand
Boccaccio
makes
to return.
He determines
Arcite
first go into the service
circuitous business.
must
of Menelaus
into
of Peleus at ^gina"
then
that
at
Mycenae,
the court
and so at last he reaches
of Theseus
of Athens, and
be
it
all
lakes the same
there
and
must
acknowledged
position
;
this suits very well with the patient,
amiable, not particularly
loves to describe.
anxious young
that
Boccaccio
gentleman
Chaucer, however, brings his Arcite back at once to the place
stillkeeps Emily
Chaucer
where he wishes to be.
Of course
aloof from
intimate
personal knowledge of Arcite !
any
Boccaccio
her know
makes
him, when all else are ignorant of
his true character.
directness and artistic skill characterise Chaucer's
The same
of the great scene
of
in the grove ; the same
want
management
characterises Boccaccio's.
In the former,Arcite,
both qualities
in prosperity,
lover
comes
as
a
seeking solitude,and there,
whole pouring out his amorous
complaints,is overheard by the
miserable
Palamon, who has the very night before broken
of the most
and suggestive nature
prison a position
stirring
;
but in the latter it is frittered away
by the complicityof
the arrangements
requiredfot its production. There must be
a servant, one
Pamphilo,to overhear Arcite in the grove, and
the
him to try to
to
to Palamon, and to induce
news
bring
break prisonin order to get out to fightthe rival.
And
then
when
they do meet, it is quite a lesson in politenessto see their
courtesy towards each other,their patience in expostulation
unlike is
to fight. How
and, even at the last,their reluctance
all this to the chivalrous
Chaucer's
Arcite
t
hat
feeling
prompts
find food and arms
to
for his half-famished
and totallyundefended
rival before fightinghim, or the terrible passions that
both when
actuate
described in these most
as
they do fight,
magnificentlines :
"

"

"

Then

Right

changen gan
as

the hunter
*

the colour in their face,

in the regne*of Thrace,

Realm, or country.

THE

KNIGHTS

TALE

225

That.standeth in the gapp^ with

a spear,
hunted is the lion or the bear,
And heareth him come
rushing in the greVes,'
And breaking both the bo ugh ^s and the leaves.
And
mortal enemy
thinks " Here comes
my
;
be dead or I.
Withouten
he must
fail,

When

Theseus
solemn combat
interruptstheir fight; and the more
a-side
is
determined
with a hundred
knights
upon
; these are
Boccaccio
collected, and
liberallygives us the individual
of no inconsiderable
another
after
o
ne
portion of
descriptions

portraits devotes his whole

strength to them, and the result is what might have been
th" especialgems
of the
are
expected those portraits
among
in
read
of
his
And
bear's
we
as
Lycurgus,
poem.
wrapped
in
his
for
coal
black
of
car
skin,
gold,and
age, standing on high
the great white dogs that follow him,
or of Emetrius,who

the whole.

Chaucer

givesbut

two

"

"

"

as

lion,he

his

looking cast,

of the knights raised to a

high pitchby the contemplationof two such examples.
The
arrives,and the lovers go to the
day of the combat
wishes to describe
Boccaccio
temple to offer up their prayers.
\}[i^xt{ox^personifiesthe
the temples, so does Chaucer
; the one
we

find

our

respect for the remainder

prayers^ in order that they may

go severallyto the temple
Mount
of Mars
in Thrace, and of Venus
m
Citheron,and the
they see there ; the other raises our
poet describes what
of
the
importance of the occasion, and of the
conception
magnificence of Theseus, by making the latter build temples to
Mars, Venus, and Diana, in connexion with the amphitheatre
he raises,
and upon which all the skillof the time is expended
describes these
in works of paintingand sculpture. Chaucer
obtain a series
the
natural
and
most
we
means
so by
temples ;
be described by no other word that shall at
of picturesthat can
and of the imaginative
of the feeling,
once
a sense
power
convey
that per\'ades
them, than supernatural.
while the story hurries along with rapidityin
And
now,
would end.
Chaucer, in Boccaccio it seems
as
though it never
of the battle,
One whole book is devoted
instead
to the account
lines of the English poet, so descripof the few but marvellous
tive
of the confusion and tumult of the affray,
and where you in
vain strive to follow
so

cross
continually

any

set of actors

one

the view

and

draw

or

away

others
incidents
the attention ;
"

"

He through the thickest of the throng *gan thrust ;"

There stumble steedfes strong,and down go'thall ;
He roUeth under foot as doth a ball ;
"

"

Groves.

Canterbury
He

tales.

his foot with a truncheon

hurtfeleth with his foe adown,

feynethon

And

him

"

etc.

book, again, of the Teseide is occupiedwith the accident

to
Arcite,and his marriage on the bed of death with Emily ;
another with the funeral of the persons killed in the combat, and
desires for
the death of Arcite after expressing his generous
and Emily ; and yet a third with Arcite's
the union of Palamon
funeral and its adjuncts; and as though there reallywas
an
One

invincible

the part of the author to end before

and Emily
he was
compelled by utter lack of matter, Palamon
in
in
formal
the
last
order to
make
book,
actually
speeches
decline the match, which
gives opportunityto other speeches
to induce them
to consent, as at last they do.
Compare all this
with the few but delightful
touches of Chaucer
Theseus
; as when
after declaringhis purpose,
turns to Palamon

objectionon

"

I trow

To

maken

there needeth
you

assenten

littlesermoning
to this

thing,"etc.

these notices of the two

that
works, it will be seen
the difference in length between the two poems
is no proofthat
did not take Boccaccio
Chaucer
for his original. The
12,000
of the one must
be narrowed
scribed
verses
by the process we have deinto some
the 2000
such number
of the other.
So
as
for
much
Boccaccio
and
Let us now
Chaucer.
how
it
see
is with Chaucer
and Dryden.
be no doubt that a large" perhaps the chiefThere
can
his tales
has been founded
portionof Dryden'spopularity
upon
from Chaucer, and especially
his
version
of
the
Knight's
upon
"Reither can
Tale^
there be any doubt that the tale itselfis
known
be
to English readers through him.
It will now
cHTefly
how
undeserved
that portion
our
to show
duty to endeavour
has been, how
of his popularity
inadequatefor the reader, and
how injuriousto the original
author is his version.
We
shall
do this in a very simple and, as we conceive,impartial
manner,
connection
with each other those
by placing in immediate
be
parallelpassages, most of which would, in all probability,
selected by the respectiveadmirers
of the two poets as their
We
best.
have merely to premise that Dryden follows Chaucer
such
with
evident determination
neither to omit nor to alter
an
a
singlefeature or incident of the story, he so tracks his
his words where
echoes
every thought, he so constantlyeven
he does alter,we
convenient, line for hne, that when
must
conclude that the antiquateddiction impelled him, or that he
seeks to improve : a noble ambition,but difficultto accomplish
under the circumstances.
When
Dryden took up the Knight's
From

TALi,

JCNIGHt'S

THE

22/

properly
if indeed he had ever
he forgot,
Tale for translation^
known, Chaucer.
charming of descriptionsand
with that most
We
commence
in the garden.
the May- morning, and Emily playing
pictures,

writes

Thus

Chaucer"
Thus passethyear by year, and day by day,
of May,
Till it fell onfcs in a morrow
to seen
That Emily,that fairerwas
her stalkfe green,
on
is the lily
Than
And fresher than the May with flow'rfesnew.
For with the rosfe-colour strove her hue

(I n*ot* which was the finer of them two),

day, as she was wont to do,
Ere it was
She was
arisen,and all ready dight,"
For May will have no sluggardv a-night;
The season
pricketheverj^gentle heart,
him out of his sleepsstart.
And maketh
1 and do thine observance.
Arise
And saith,
it is

Now
how

of

unfathomable

of the most

one

problems

existing the following could have

the above
of
name
in connection with the honoured

to

us,

into

come

"

"

existence

Dryden"
Thus

year

and

by year they pass,

('twason the room

day by day.
May)

of cheerful

Till once
The young Emilia, fairer to be seen.
the fair lilyon the flowerygreen,
Than
new,
More fresh than May herself in blossoms
her
strove
hue),
colour
the
rosy
(For with
the day
her custom
was, before
as

Walk'd,

due to sprightlyMay :
do th* observance
our
youth to keep
May commands
For sprightly
of her night,and breaks their sluggardsleep;
The vig^s
she moves
warmth
;
Each gentle breast with kindly
loves."
revives
extinguished
new
flames,
To

Inspires

SprightlyMay
Chaucer"
mischief

all his
end there.

Rossini, in which

"

and

remember
peculiarand
We

again and again,but

ever

so

once

very

of freshness,that it seemed
had got hold of it and could
spirit
burst out with
to time must
time

to

Ne

wot, do

not

know.
T

not
new

us

Nor

alas ! for
the
does
air by
an

hearing
lovely melody

charmingly,and

sense

; but

sprightlypoet
!
gone
simplicity
exquisite

indeed

with

such

came
a

new

happy

though some
again, but
justwhen

as

let it go
animation
^

Dressed.

from
you

expected he would
pervade the lines

most
to

lAL^S.

CANTERBURY

2i8

such

Some

cease.

feelingseems

to us

fresher than the May with flowVfes new^

For with the rosfc-colour strove her hue
(/ fCot which was the finerof them two).
Ere it was
etc.
day,as she was wont to afe,

And

Well, perhaps it may be presumptuous to quarrelwith Dryden

for not
and retaining
what seems
the melody
to us
perceiving
be Siid for the omission
of these lines ; but what can
of one
of
of
the
whole
the lines themselves, nay the most
the
charming
line we have marked
in italics? He had not a word to alter had
he desired to include it. Nay, some
patriotic
printerto-morrow
edition of his works.
and
might insert it in a new
Rhyme
"

reason

are

both

ready.

We
readers
can
hardly like to say it but our
judge for
themselves
the
that
truth of the statement
if there be
to
as
the
than
one
beautiful
countless
more
ordinarily
passage
among
beautiful passages
of Chaucer, then is Dryden sure
to be more
than ordinarilycareful to show
of appreciation
his want
of it
his
destructive
alterations.
Thus
is it with the exquisite
by
lines by
"

"

Chaucer"
The busy lark,the messenger
Saluteth with her song the
And

That
And

The

fieryPhoebus

of

riseth up

all the Orient

day,

morrow

gray,

bright.
of the sight,

so

laueheth

with

his streamfes drieth in the

greves.
silver droppfcshanging on the leaves.

Can

anything be conceived more

in words
freshly beautiful,
well as in thought, feeling,
and poetry?
Here at least the
translator needed
not to alter a letter even
for his own
purpose.
Yet we have from
as

Dryden
The

morning lark,the

Saluted

in her
song

the

"

messenger

of

day,

morning

gray ;
the sun
with beams so bright.
arose
That all th' horizon laugh'd to
the joyous sight;
see
He with his
the
rose
rays
tepid
renews,
And
licks the droppingleaves,and dries the dews.
And

Here

is

soon

addition,it

must

be owned.
We
the "morning

have

not

only gained

gray,"etc.,and what
^^;;u'"^''^
wJ^TT?
expression
frfll^ti''^*^?^'
to old"^^''?y
L^^
delightful
fashioned
so

poetical ears, the

the

busy lark," now

"morrow

the
gray "and
dartinghither and thither,now

image
with

of
its

KNiGRfS

THE

wings beating upon

tillshe seems
think she is

breast,and
movements

in

but

TALE.

iig

the air,ascending into the blue depth above

dark speck,and at last disappears,
and you

quitegone ; but no, the sunshine flashes upon her

interest the
are
again followingwith renewed
you
of the " busy lark."
line of the description
One

question

have
so
puzzled Dry den, that he
feat of cutting the Gordian
knot
line. We
read in Chaucer

to

seems

obliged to parallelthe
lengtheningthe Homeric
And

In

was

by

"

all the Orient

laughethof

the

sight.

order

folly to appreciate this glorious line,at once

so
and
musically expressive and so steeped in poeticloveliness,
which
in works
of the highest
belongs to a class that even
character occur
but comparatively seldom
should repeat
one
it aloud, and feel how
it makes
the spirit
well as the voice
as
"

climb

; until as

that most
Orient
charming of words
universe
and
a whole
to
happy
;
laugh from very sympathy with it,as we descend again with the
concluding portion of the line. Now let us also read aloud the
improved line,taking, however, like leapers, a good run at
"

^we

startingto

make

That

Thus

reach

we

to look

seem

"

down

us

over

of

sure

all th' horizon

"

were

translated

**

gettingsafelyover

laugh*d

to see

the

joyoussight.

descriptionsof

Chaucer's

external

nature.

Let us now
of man
and
to the heart
go to higher matter
the tempestuous passionsthat sometimes
toss itabout
shoreless
and anchorless,as when
Arcite finds himself only released from
his bodily captivity
in Athens
to feel more
heavilythe spiritual
far away
from
so
bondage in which love keeps him at Thebes"
"

"

"

his mistress.
elder poet

The
as

"

he

contrast
was

not

should

hardly a fair one to the

professedlya tragic dramatist like
be

Dryden"
might therefore be supposed to have
the use of the tragicdramatist's mightiestweapon"
and

Chaucer's

less studied

Lover
Description
of the Despairing

pathos.
"

had never
So much sorrow
creature
That is,or shall be, while the world will 'dure ;
His sleep,his meat, his drink is him beraft,*
That lean he wax'd,and dry as any shaft ;
His eyfcnhollow, and grislyto behold ;
and pale as ashes cold.
His hue fallow,
And solitary
he was, and ever
alone,
And
the
all
night,making his moan
wailing
;
And if he heardfe song or instrument

Then
*

would

Bereft.

he weep,

he

mights not
"

be stent.'

Stopped.

CANTERBURY

23"5
So feeble
And
His

were

chane^^

TALES.

his spirits
and
that
no
man
so,

nor
speech^,

his

so

low,

could^

voice,though men

know
it heard.

in the whole range of poetry a more

remember
this
than
? There should be one
patheticdescription
Dryden's,
Here
is the result.
undertook
Chaucer
who
to re-write it
of
kind
he conwith
of
the
emotions
awe
a
templated
began humbly, as
Does

the reader

"

and

was

about

to

artistical

describe,and as one who saw good

Dryden ! he is in the very

for so doing ; but

reasons
thick of the turmoil at once.
Dryden's
He
He

"

of the DespairingLover,
Description

of despair,
with all the madness
he
beat
his
he
breast, tore his hair ;
roar'd,

raved

thinks

here the poet takes a littlebreath,and

somewhat
high key, so continues,

Dry
and

now

vein,so

he
he

sorrow

in his

must
really
adds,

stupideyes

drop into a

appears,

more

he has

begun

in

"

comfortable

and

chatty

"

For

wanting nourishment,he wanted tears.

in their hollow sockets sink ;
His eye-balls
Bereft of sleep,he loathes his meat
and drink ;
He withers at his heart,and looks as wan
As the pale spectre of a murdered
man
:
That pale turns yellow and his face receives
The faded hue of saplessboxen
leaves.
In solitary
makes
his
he
groves
moan,
Walks
earlyout, and ever is alone :
Nor, mix'd in mirth,in youthfulpleasureshares.
But sighswhen
he hears :
songs and instruments
His spirits
are
so
low, his voice is drown 'd,
1
He hears as from afar,or in a swound,
}"
Like the deaf murmurs
of a distant sound.
j
^

there is

undoubtedly originalpower and beauty in the last

lines,though we think they are no improvement on the less
but more
ornate
suggestivelines of Chaucer ; but as to all the
how could Dryden rest peacefullyin his
rest of the description,
bed after writingit? How
could he compare
this line,
Now

three

And

with this

wailingall the night,making his

moan,

"

In

solitary
groves

he makes

and yet go on to i)repare hosts of similar

of Curiosities of Literature ?
volumes

his moan,

examples for future

THE

KNIGHT'S

TALE.

231

and we have done.

Since neither in
illustration,
external
human
describing
emotions, Dryden does
nature, nor
naught but injure"and, it must be said,vulgarisehis original
does he really
improve upon him as he takes the very highest
and leaves the every-day for the supernatural
poeticflights,
world !
Alas ! It is preciselythrough his deficiencyof the
subtler qualities
of the art and facultydivine that he fails in the
have examined, and the failure therefore becomes
the
we
cases
"
more
conspicuous as we ascend to those which are of imagination
all compact."
Such
wonderful
of poetical
is that most
One

more

"

descriptions
"

Chaucer's

Temple ofMat

s,^

First on the wall was

painteda forest,
In which there dwelled neither man
nor
beast,
With knotty,gnarly,barren, trees old,
Of stubbfes sharp,and hideous to behold ;
In which there ran a nimble
and a swough
As 'twere a storm
should bursten every bough.
And downward
a hill under
on
a bent,*
stood
the
There
templeof Mars armipotent,
of which th' entr^
Wrought all of burnish 'd steel,
and ghastlyfor to see ;
Was long and strait,
And thereout came
a
rage, and such a prise'*
That it made all the gatfes
for to rise ;
The northern
lightin at the doorfe shone,
For

window
on
which

Through

the wall
men

ne

was

mighten

there

none

lightdiscern,etc.

any

thus for above seventy lines does the poet continue,adding

image to image, each of them of the grandest description but
by the unearthly feelingthat pervades
yet all so subordinated
dwell
them
as
they deserve,and
them, that you cannot
upon
in the works of a lesser poet
but
as
you would did they occur
down
sailed
some
on
by night
on"
theyhurry you as though you
where
visible
after
stream
stream
and
river,
majestic
strange
only by the weird lightthat shines on their gloomy and terrible
surface
in and swells the mighty tide that bears you
pours
does the mighty
nor
irresistibly
along whither you know not
magician who has raised allthis supernaturalworld around give
the desire to inquire; breathless,
you
you time, or leave you
resignyourselfto his will and bidding. But Dryden comes
Plain as poet can
and the whole is changed.
speak, he says,
"
See what a descriptionof the supernaturalPll give you !" and
as the result of his effort a very
powerful poetical
you do see
the poet
making it into the
passage and John Dryden
And

"

"

"

"

"

"

"

"

"

"

bargam.
*

Bend

or

slope.

Roar,

TALES.

CANTERBURY

332

Temple of Mars,

DrYDEN's

and bare ;
a forest wide
The landscapewas
kind
human
beast
repair;
neither
nor
Where
The fowl that scent afar the borders fly,
And shun the bitter blast,and wheel about the sky.
A cake of scurf lies baking on the ground.
And prickly
stubs,instead of trees,are found ;
knots and guars deform'd and old,
with
woods
Or
Headless the most, and hideous to behold :

branches went,
sole way they bent.
Heav*n froze above severe, the clouds congeal,
vault appeared the standinghail.
And through the crystal

tempest through the

rattling
That stripped*em bare,and one

the face without

Threat'ningfrom high,and

Such

was

stood

mountain

the wood.

overlook'd

the loweringbrow, and on a bent,

Beneath
The temple stood of Mars armipotent;
that cast a glare
The frame of burnish'd
steel,
the
thaw
to
and
seem'd
From
freezingair.
far,
A

strait,
long entry

the

to

temple led.

head ;
horror over
and
hollow
a blast,
roar,
the hinge to heave the door ;
In, through that door,a northern lightthere shone
there were
none.
all he had, for windows
*T was
and
walls,

Blind with high

issued such
Thence
As threatened from

task to point out

unthankful
endless and a most
individual thoughts of this description,
in the details,
or
how
even
without
injury
Dryden found himself unable to re-produce
decide
is
to
One
line
alone
him.
enough
before
had
he
what
poets, looked at
the whole character of the relation of the two
even
as
regardstheir business skill. Mark how in the following
and
additional feature
like some
new
word
seems
line
It

an

were

every

made

visible

by

With

so

many

glimpses
lightning
"

knotty gnarly
"

"

barren

trees

"

"

old ;

and sound
why, .the most finished lines of Pope, in which sense
Yet Dryden
each other,are toys as compared with this.
echo
has not

trace

of it.

is content

with knots and guars

Woods

remainder
examples suffice

Of

He

of

the

the

with

"

deform'd

respective poems,

and

old.

let

"

"Chaucer's
Smiler with the

becomes

in

knifeunder

the

cloak^

two

or

three

THE

KNIGHTS

TALE.

233

Dryden-Next stood hypocrisywith holy leer,

Soft smiling,and demurely lookingdown,
But hid the dagger underneath
the gown.

Palamon's

appeal

to

Venus, when

he

tells her

he is in,and
language to tell the torment
and
most
moving pathos
simplicity

then

he

adds

has no
with the

(Chaucer.)
I

becomes

am

so

that
confiisi^

I cannot

say,

in
Dryden"
"I

of the
Lastly,one
pressed in words"

feel too much

most

to pray.

magnificent images that

that

where

Arcite

ever

addresses

thus

poet

ex*

Mars,"'

who
Chaucer"
hast in every regne, and every land,
Of armfes afl the bridle in thine hand^*

is thus translated by
Dryden"

everywhere thy power

fightis

fortune of the

The

We
a

have
very

yet

two

amusing

is known
all

thy own.

of these parallelpassages
to
furnish.
It
written
contrast
was
they
more

give ; and
by

Chaucer"
Men

the old out-run, but

may

in

outstrip them

that is, not

find in

counsel

Dryden
For this
As

advantage Age

not

to

not

be out-ridden

gentlemen, it appears,

out-rede ;

wisdom.

and

But

we

"

from
"

youth has won.

though out-run.

should

take to horseback
in
and
order to rival their sons
grandsons, when
no
they can
them
with
foot.
on
longer compete
We
observe, in conclusion, that part (at least)of the
may
the Afielida
written
Tale
: see
was
probably in stanzas
Knight's
So

that old

"

and

Arcite

should

"

seem,

before
had

the
not

Canterbury

been

Tales

'

^s
appieciated

generally,and, it
it deserved,

In

34

CANTERB

UR

TALES,

in the Legend of Good

notice of his own
works
mentions
titleof * Al the Love of
this
the
tale under
Women, he
Palamon
and Arcite of Thebes/ and it is added that " the story
little/' Not the less,however, did the poet place it
is known
the * Canterbury Tales ' ; and posterityhas more
first among
than justified
the appeal thus made
to it.
Chaucer's

THE

MAN

OF

Hx^TEFUL

thirst

asken

with

need

so

Christ,

blamest

saying

thou

sometime
the

nought

he

is the

what

indigence

have

to

come

If thou
And

thrown.

but

with

in

burning

be

is better

It

"

need.

will

die

to

thee

despise

than
;

reverence.

wise

All

man"

the

days

therefore,

Beware,

thy

hateth

flee

! full

from

of

the
thou

lest

well

wish

land

regn^s

folk

j*^ye
^

not

sixes

In

and
ye
be

fathers

spite

of

and

fives,

pair
*

on

ye

th'

the

dance.
;

estate

tidings,
'Expense,

of

chance

your

winnings

your

of.

with

case.

runneth

all

ambes-ace.

may

for

sea

alas

ye,

this

with

merry

knowen

be

in

as

thee,

thee,

weal

of

folk

prudent

seeken

say,

brother

thy

baggfes be not filled

size-cinque ;* that

Poverty.

dice,

shall

his

in

wise

thy

friend^s

Christenmass

As

is to

he

neighbours

the

merchants

with

Ye

That

of the

suffering.

poor,

noble,

But

'

of

and

be

Your

By

when

need-ful

farewell

poor,

all

nchh
O

Of

equally
un-

sinfully thy neighbour

faith, sayest
thou,
my

point.

that

At

this

very

saying

of evil

full

all.

helpeth

thy

be

also, this
are

poor

for

divideth

bitterly, he

blamest

he

saying

If thou

Take,

all

fire ;

everlasting
For

to

reckon

shall

he

Harken

little, and

hast

y wounded,
hid,
thy wounds
for indigence,
must,
thy dispense ^

sayest

Thou

confounded,

so

heart

thou

art

sore

unwrappeth

and

riches.

temporal

hunger,
thine

in

thine
head, thou
MaugreOr
steal, or beg, or borrow

Thou

povdrt,"^

cold, with

ask,

none

very

of

it shameth

help,

If thou
That

TALE.

condition

harm,

With

To

LAW'S

aces,

so

highest

Realms.

valueless
numbers

or

expenditure.
in

the
that

game
can

of
be

236

CANTERBURY

TALES.

Of talfesboth of peace and of debate.

I were
of talfesdesolate,
rightnow
*
N'ere
that a merchant,gone since many
a year
Me taught a Tale which ye shall after hear.

dwelt

of merchants, rich,grave,
company
who
and honest men,
far and wide their spices,
cloths of
sent
was
so
gold,and satins rich of hue. Their merchandize
cheap
values
and novel,that every one
highly the dealing with them,
their wares.
Now
it befell that the masters
and to sell to them
business
whether
for
of the company,
or
enjoyment, would
would
send thither,
other
to
Rome
but
no
they
messenger
;
go
And
in
such
tageous
advanthemselves.
a
place as they thought
go
for Iheir purposes
they took up their lodging. These
have sojournedin the town
merchants
a certain time,according
it so befell that the excellent renown
to their pleasure,and
of
the Emperor's daughter, Dame
with
Constance, was reported
to
the Syrian merchants, daily, in such
every circumstance
I shall describe to you :
manner
as
In

Syriathere

once

"

voice of every man

This was
the common
:
Our Emperor of Romfe, God him see,
A daughterhath, that since the world began,
^
To reckon as well her goodness as beauty"
she ;
W
such another as was
as never
"

I pray to God her

would she were

saven

and

of all

And

sustene,*

Europe

the

Queen.

high beautywithouten pride,

withouten
green-head^ 01 folly:
all her workfes virtue is her guide ;
hath slayenin her, tyranny ;
Humbless

In her is

Youthfe

To

She is mirrour of all6 courtesy ;

of holiness ;
Her heart is very chamber
Her hand minister of freedom and alm^ss.*
And

But now
merchants
have seen

all this voice

was

sooth,as

God

is true.

Wheh
these
again to our
purpose.
their
and
when
ships,
newly freighted
they
this blissful maiden, they went
to Syria,
gladly home
let

us

turn

have

*
it not.
Sustain.
Were
The
historyof words presents many very curious features ;and no
than
forms
the subjectof this comment.
word
that which
more
so
What
be more
can
forcibly
expressiveor beautiful than this likening
of the inexperienced,
mature
unripe mind of youth to the green^ tender,im"
growths of vegetation? but, alas ! to what base uses we may
?"
the word, like many
others of equally distinguished
return, Horatio
unknown
origin,is now
beyond the regions of vulgarslang.

"

Alms, charity.

THE

and

transacted

MAN

their

LAWS

OF

TALE.

237

business,and lived in

of old.
as
prosperity,
that the merchants
stood in favour with the
Sultan of Syria ; for when
from
they came
strange place
any
he would
of his benignity
and courtesy hospitably entertain
their tidingsof sundry kingdoms, in
them, and busilyexamine
order to learn the wonders
that they might have heard
or
It

so

happened

other

Among

seen.

things,they told

him
of Dame
especially
and
in such
an
earnest

such
Constance
great nobleness,
serious
hath
that
this Sultan
caught so great
manner,
pleasure in having her image in his continual remembrance,
That all his lust * and all his busy cure
Was for to love her whiles his life may

Haply in that large book

written with

when

stars

which

he

was

'dure.

call the

men

heaven, it was

bom,

That he for love should have his death,alas I

For in the starrfes,
clearer than is glass,
Is written,
could
God wot, whoso
The death of every man
withouten

it

read,

drede.'

In starrfes many
winter there before
a
Was
writ the death of Hector,A'chilles,
Of Pompejr,
Julius,ere they were
ybore ;
The Strife of Thebes ; and of Hercules,
Of Sampson, Turnus, and of Socrates
The death ; but mennfes wittfes be so dull
That no wight can well read it at the full.

This

Sultan sent for his privy council,and, shortlyto pass

this matter, declared to them his intent.
He said to thenv
over
that certainly
unless he might have the grace to have Constance
within a littletime he was
but as
dead ; and he charged
one
their sovereign, to
them, as
shape out for his life some

remedy

"

Divers^

divers^ thingfes
saiden ;
men
They argumentfes casten up and down
forth they laiden ;
Many a subtle reason
of
They speaken
magic and abusion ;

But, finally,
they

see

no

advantage

in such

discourse,nor

other way

in

therein such
any
except marriage. Then
they saw
to speak reasonably and
difficulty,
plain, because there was
such diversity
the laws of the two
between
countries,that they
said they believed no Christian prince would
be willing
to
*'

Wedden
That
"

his child under

us

was

Desire.

taught by
"

our

lawfe sweet,

Mahound

Care.

our

"

prophdte."
Doubt.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

23"
And

he answered

"

"
Rather than I lose
I
will
christened
be
doubtfeless.
Constance,
be hers,I may
I must
other choose ;
none
I pray you hold your arguments in peace ;
Saveth my life,
and be not reckfeless.
her
that
hath my life in cure,
Go, getten
I may no longer 'dure."
For in this woe

I say, by embassy and

it to dilate more?
needeth
of the Pope, and all the church,
treaty, and by the mediation
and all the chivalry,to the increase of Christ's dear law, and
the parties are
the destruction of Mahometanism
presently
the
How
that
Sultan
his
and
:
agreed
baronage, and his
be
should
in
christened,and he shall have Constance
subjects
and
marriage, and certain gold, of what quantityI know
not,
is sworn
to by
give sufficient sureties. The same
agreement

V/hat

"

"

each

party.

Now,

fair Constance,
Almighty God

thee

guide !

would
expect that I should tell all the
the
by
Emperor, in his nobleness, for his
Constance
know
well that such
daughter Dame
; but they may
in
ordinances
as
were
so
high
a
arranged
matter, can be
great
in so little a clause.
told by no
man
Bishops are ready to
also
and
her
of renown,
and
knights
lords,ladies,
accompany
;
of
And
it
notified
other people.
was
throughout .the
plenty
city,that every one with great devotion should pray to Christ
that he would receive this marriage with favour,and speed this
Some

I guess,

men,

provisionmade

voyage.
The

day is come

day is come

for their

there
"and
themselves

all address

departure I say the woeful, fatal

be no
longer tarrying. One and
may
forwards.
to go
Constance, overcome
"

addresses
herself to go
for
that
other end.
Alas ! what wonder
she wept, to be sent from friends who
so
tenderlypreserved her,
and
be
nation
bound
under
to
a
subjectionto one
strange
;
be all good, and
whose
character she knoweth
Husbands
not.
have been ; that wives know
ever
more.
; I dare say no
with sorrow,
well

she

sees

"

full

pale,arose, and

there

is

"

no

"

Father,"she said, thy wretched

Thy youngfe daughter,fostered
And ye, my
Over all

mother,

my

child
up

so

Constance,
soft.

sovereign pleasdnce

thing,
"

Christ alone excepted Constance, your child,recommendeth

herself often unto
your grace, for I shall go to Syria,and my
shall
never
see
eyes
you more.
"

THE

OP

MAN

LA

W'S

TALM,

i39

Alas ! unto the Barbare nation

I must
anon, sithence* it is your will ;
But Christ that starv'd* for our redemption,
*
So give me
grace his hestfes to fulfil.

for me,

As

wretched

woman,

neither

matter

no

and

to thraldom

Women
be bom
And to be under

I trow
that
Ilion
burnt

it is

mannfes

Troy,

at

though I die-

penance,

governance."

Pyrrhus broke

when

the

wall,or

burnt
that was
at the cityof Thebes, when
nor
thrice vanquished the Romans,
Hannibal
when
at Rome,
nor
there heard
such tender
much
did
them
and
harm, was
so
in the chamber
of Constance
at
weeping for pityas there was
"

"

her

parting;
But forth she must, whether

she weep

or

sing.

cruel firmament, with thy diurnal sway

that
all
East
from
bodies
and
hurtlest
the
to
West,
ever,
direction
would
hold another
that naturally
thy crowding set
the heaven
in such array at the beginning of this fierce voyage,
the
ruined
Unfortunate
hath
that cruel Mars
marriage.
falls
!
the
alas
!
ascendant
tortous
lord,
helplessout of his
O Mars
I O Atyzar I
angle into the darkest of the houses.
O feeble Moon, unhappy is thy state ! thou knittest thyself
first
O
crowdest

moving

"

"

there where thou art not received ; thou wert well from thence
1
where thou art turned away.
Imprudent Emperor of Rome
2(11
there no
alas ! was
thy town ? Is there
philosopherin
? In voyages
in such cases
is
time better than another
one
no
and especially
for persons
of high condition,
there no election,
time* may
from a birth ? Alas 1 we
be known
when
not even
a
stilltoo ignorantor too slow.
are
"

To

ship is brought
Solemnfely,with

Now

Jesu Christ

There

She

Since.
A

root

fairfemaid
circumstance
:
every
be with you," she said.

but
paineth her to make
n' is

and thus I leave her

*

so

this woful

to

no

more,

Farewell,fair Const^ce."
good countenance
;

"

sail forth.

Perished.

word] or
[Chaucer's

'Commands.
radix in

is,says T)aTwhitt,
astrology,

time taken
at pleasure,from
wjiich,as an era, the
celestial motions are to be computed." But in the text root is applied
but from calculations founded on the
to a time not taken at pleasure,
and as the end rather than the beginningof the astroof birth,
oger'slabours. The root or time here mentioned appears to imply the
should have started on her voyage ; and for
period when Constance
which
the grave and sententious Man
cf Law
neglectingto discover

"any

certain

I)eriod
blames

her father.

CANTERBURY

240

TALES.

Sultan,a well of vices,having perceived

her son^s whole intent,and that he will leave his old sacrifices,
they are come
immediately sends for her council ; and when
The

of the

mother

she
assembled
in company,
she meant, and
are
of
seated herself,
and said"** Ye know, lords,every one
you,
is about to leave the holy laws of our Alkoran,
how that my son
Mahomet.
to great
But one
vow
given by God's messenger,
God
I promise,the life shall rather start out of my
body than
betide us
should
law
Mahomet's
of mine
heart ! What
out
to know

what

and
law but thraldom
to our
bodies,and penance
?
belief in Mahomet
our
afterwards,for having renounced
I
that
shall
will
bind
all
as
But, lords,
yourselves,
say
ye
safe for everand advise,ye will assent, and
I will make
more?"
us
consented
stand
and
to
man
They swore,
every
by her side,to live and die with her ; and that each in the
best manner
he could, to strengthen her, should try to secure
She then
,hisfriends. So she takes the enterprisein hand.
from
hell

says
The

this

new

to them

all

"

shall first feign

We

"

to

take Christianity.
I
but little. And

cold water
[ofbaptism] shall grieve us
make
such
feast and revel,that, as
a
requite the Sultan :
shall

For
She

she

Sultaness,root

of

serpent deep
O

white/

!
iniquity

all that may

feignedwoman,
and

Is bred in

envious

wife be christen'd never

so
the
to wash
red,
away
font of water
with her led."
need

Thou
second
Virago I Thou
O
woman's
form, like to the
serpent under
bound
in hell I

Virtue

trow, I shall

though his

shall have

Though

Semiramis

Satan

confound

innocence,through thy malice

thee,as nest of every vice.

! since

that

day thou

wert

chased

from

our

heritage,
Well

knewest

thou

to

woman

the olde way.

Thou
madest
Eve bring us into servitude
thou now
wilt undo
this Christian marriage. When
thou wouldest
beguile" alas !
alas I the time ! thou stillmakest
thine instrument.
woman
The Sultaness,
whom
I thus blame
and
let her
stigmatize,
"

"

council privily
Why should I longer tarry in my
go their way.
tale ? On a certain day she rideth to the Sultan,and said to
him she would renounce
her faith,and
take Christianity
from
*

Or made

pure

by

the water

of

baptism.

THE

MAN

OF

hands, and that

priest's
She besought
heathen.

the
a

LAWS

TALE.

241

repented she had

she

been

long

so

him to do her that hon6iir,

have
the Christian folk to feast ;
might
I
them
will
do my
labour."
"Topleasen
The Sultan saith," I will do at your hest."
And kneelingthankfed her of that request ;
So glad he was, he n'ist* not what to say :
she goeth her way.
She kissed her son, and home
That

she

Christian people reach the land in Syria,in a great

solemn
Hastily the Sultan sends a message,
company.
his mother, and then to all the country round, saying
to
his wife was
of doubt
out
coming, and praying them to
of
towards
the Queen, in order
the honour
to sustain

The

and
first
that

ride
his

kingdom.
Great

the press, and rich was

the array
Of Syriansand Romans
in fere.^
met
of the Sultan,rich and gay.
The mother
was

her

Received

with

mother

As

A soft^ pace

might
citythere beside,

vaunt,

was

not

of

this

royal

more

"

sol^mnfely
they ride.

triumph of Julian,I trow,

The

cheer
daughter dear ;

glad a

so

her

any
to the nextfe

And

all

of which

nor

more

maketh

Lucan

such

blissful host.
But
Sultaness,for all her flattering,
plottedbeneath

the
spirit,
sting full mortally.
The

Sultan

cometh

himself

her with all joy and

and welcomed
wondrous
to tell,
thus in mirth and joy I leave them.
the
arrived
time
has
that
the old
And
now

ordained

for the feast of which

the Christian

I told

And
But

may

men

dainties

more

all too

dear

and

feast,and
than

bliss ; and
Sultaness
to the

feast

them,

both young
There

And

you.

people severallyaddress

to

royally,that it is

after,so

soon

curious than the assemblage

this scorpion, this wicked

old.

royaltybehold,

can

they bought

you devise :
it ere they rise.

that art
to
ever
successor
worldly bliss I
woe,
with
bitterness
end
of
of the joys
is the
our
Sprinkled
worldly
labour ! Woe
occupieth the end of our gladnessI Hearken
O

to

sudden

for

this counsel
*

thy security:

Knew

not,

'^

Company.

CANTERBURY

242

TAjlES,

Upon thy gladd^ days

The

have in

that cometh

woe'

Tinware

mind

thy

aye behind.

tell it in

the Sultan and the Christians,

brief,
and
all
stabbed
cut
at the board. Dame
down,
every
one,
alone excepted. This old Sultaness, this cursed
Constance
with her friends,
hath done this cursed
deed ; for she
crone
of the
would herself rule all the country.
Nor
there one
was
Sultan's
had
who
been
and
of
that
the
knew
converted,
Syrians
to
shortly,

For

are

counsel,but
with

also hewed

was

foot-hot

speed

down

they have

before he could

immediately taken

escape

; and

Constance,

And

in a shippfe
steerless (God it wot !)
have
her
They
set, and bade her learn to sail
*
Out of Surrfe
again-wardto Itaille.'*'

A certain treasure
she had
brought
also plenty of provisions,they have
also clothes.

thither,
and, truth to
given her ; and she

say,

had

And forth she saileth in the salt^ sea,

O my Constance, full of benignity1

Emperorfesyoungfe daughterdear

He

that

is Lord

of Fortune

be

thy

steer

!*

She blesseth her,*and with full piteousvoice,

"*

of Christ then saidfe she :

Unto the cross
O clear,
O wealful altar,
holy cross,
Red of the Lamb6*s
blood,mil of pit^r,

That wash'd the world from old iniquity,

Me from the fiend,
and from his clawfeskeep.
That day that I shall drenchen* in the deep.

Victorious

tree

! Protection

of true

That

onfelywere worthy for to bear

That Kin^ of Heaven, with his woundfes

new

"

The

whitfe Lamb, that hurt was

with a spear
;
Flemer^ of fiendfes,
of him, and here.
out
On which thy limbfes faithfully
extend.
Me keep, and give me
might my life to mend."
Yearns

and

dayfesfleets this creature

Throughout the sea of Greece,into

the Strait
her ddventure*
Of many
a
she bait ;
sorry mealfe may
After* her death full often
may she wait,
Ere that the wildfe wavfe will her drive
Unto the placethere as she shall arrive.

Of Maroc,

That

is

say, the

to

"|y^i*Be drowned.
6

as

it

woe

was

that steals
upon

rii^^^V
'

Banisher.

us

^*Pilot,guide.
8

Floated,

"

unawares

^Herself:

Seekingor watchingfor

THE

Men
might ask
the
feast ? I
at
the horrible cave,

MAN

why she

OF

was

LAW'S

not

TALE.

slain ?

Also who
Who
saved

243

saved her
Daniel
in

to that demand,
but he, master
where every one
or
servant,
before
could
devoured
he
was
but
by the lions
escape ? None
It pleased God
God, that Daniel bare in his heart.
to show
his wonderful
miracles in Constance, in order that we
should
his mighty works.
is to every
harm
the
see
Christ, who
learned
doth
often
men
know, by certain
remedy,
things,as
for certain ends, that appear
dark to man's wit.
Our
means
understand
his
does
to
allow
not
ignorance
us
sions.
prudent proviNow, since she was not slain at the feast,who kept her
from drowning in the sea?
of the
Who
kept Jonas in the maw
fish till he was
know
spouted up at Nineveh ? Well may men
it was
Hebrew
He
from
who
the
people
drowning
only
kept
when, with dry feet,they passed through the sea.
answer

Who

of Tempest,
bad6 fourfe spirits
(That power have to 'noyen land and sea,
Both north and south, and also west and east,)
tree ?
sea, nor
Annoyen neither landfe,
of
that
the
He
C6mmander
was
Soothly
That from the tempest aye this woman
kept,
she awoke as when she slept.
As well when

and drinkfe have ?

meat
Where
might this woman
Three years and more, how lasteth her victaflle ?
fed the Egyptian Mary in the cave,
Who
Or in desdrt ? No wight but Christ,sans/aille.
Five thousand folkfe! it was
great marvaiile,
"

With loaves five and fishes two to feed :

God sent his foison^ at her greatfeneed.

She driveth forth into our ocean, and throughout our wide sea,
the name
of which I know
until at last under a fort,
not, far in
and
the
stuck
the
cast
waves
so fast
her,
ship
Northumberland,
in the sand that it would not move
throughout the next tide. It
should
of
she
Christ
that
constable
will
of
the
stay. The
was
the castle goes down to see the wreck, and, in searching through
the

ship
He

found

this weary

woman,

full of

care.

that she brought. She besought

he found also the treasure
deliver her out
to kill her, and
him, in her language, in mercy
Her
in.
of the sorrow
she was
speech was a kind of corrupt
the constable
by it. When
Latin,but she was always understood
this
his
woeful
he
with
satisfied
brought
was
search,
God's
land.
kneeleth
She
to
down, and thanketh
woman

And

Abundance.
U

TALES,

CANTERBURY

244

munificence
for foul

what

; but

fair,even

nor

she

tell no one, neither

she would
she should die for her silence*

was

though

in the sea,
She was, she said,so mazM
That she forgother mindfe,by her truth.
The constable had of her so great pitj'.
eke his wife,they weepeden for ruth.
And
She

was

withouten
slouth,*
diligent,
pleasenevery in that place,

so

and
To serve
That all her love that looken

The
were

and

constable

her face.

on

Hermegild, his wife,were

generally.

Dame

pagans,

as

people of that country

the

lov'd Constance

Hermegild

But

hath

Constance

And

her

as

life ;

long sojo6rnfed
there,

so

In orison, with many

a bitter tear.
Till Jesu hath converted, through his grace,
Dame
Hermegild, constabless of that place.

All Christian
durst assemble.
land no Christians
of
the pagans,
fear
have fled from the country, through

In all that

people
that

conquer'd all about

The
by land and sea.
To Wales
fled the Christianity^
Of oldfe Britons, dwelling in this isle.
There was
their refuge for the meanfe
while.
placesof the North

But

yet the Christian

but

that

there

were

some

there dwelled three

That

completely exiled
Christ,and
privatelyhonoured
not

were

so

of them

Bright was

blind,and might

was

with th' eyen

were

which

For

the castle

near

such.

one

if it

With

who

people [from their errors]

; and

beguiled heathen

But

Britons

men

aft^r that

see

the

which

sun

of his

they be

in that summer's

as

the constable

his wife

and

not

see.

mind.
blind.

day,
also,

And Constance,haddfe take the rightfe

way
the sea, a furlongway
Toward
or two.
To

playen,and

And,

in that walk

Crooked
"

In

name

"

Dame

This
1

Sloth.

and

to

to

roamen

this blindfe

old,with

eyen

man

fast

and

fro ;

they met,

yshet.^

of Christ,"crifed this old Briton,

Hermegild, give me my sightagain I

ladywax'd

afraifed of that soun,

"

Christian folk.

"

Shut.

**

THE

MAN

LAWS

OF

TALE.

245

Lest that her husband, shortlyfor to sain,

her for Jesu Christy's love have slain
Would
her bold,and bade her worche*
made
Till Constance
The

will of

The

constable

Christ;as daughter of holy church.

wax'd

abashed' of that sight,

all this fare* ?"
amounteth
"
it
Christy's
is
Sir,
answ^r'd,
might

"
saidfe,

And

Constance

What

helpeth folk

That
And

far-forth she

so

of the fiend^s snare."

out

law*

'gan her

declare,

That

she the constable,ere that it was

eve.
Converted, and on Christ made him believe.

The

constable

king

of Northumberland

but
of his

of the

lord

not

was

kept it strongly many

who

a
was

fort where

he

found

winter's space^ under

full wise and bold, and

stance,
Con-

Alia,
able

hand

well hear.
against the Scots, as men
may
all the perfection
waiteth
to beguile us, saw
ever
of Constance, and began to consider how
he might requiteher ;
and he made
in
dwelt
the town
love her so
that
a young
knight
that he verily thought he
ardently,with an impure affection,

Satan, that

should

die unless
He

wooeth

To
He
And
In

to

him.

it availeth

nought ;
by no way ;
for despite,
he compassed in his thought
maken
her a shameful death to dey.*

She

And

her to listen

induce

he could

her,but

wouldfe do

waiteth

no

sinnfe

the constable

when

was

away,

privilyupon a night he crept

Hermegildfeschamber while she slept.

Weary, for-wakfed'

in her

orison,

SleepethConstince,and Hermegild also.

This knight,through Sathanas' temptation.
All softfely
is to the bed ygo.
And
cut the throat of Hermegild a-two.
And
laid the bloody knife by Dame
Constdnce,
And went
his way
there God give him mischance
"

home
cometh
constable
again with Alia, the
king of that country, and saw his wife ruthlesslyslain,for which
he often wept, and wrung
his hands
; and in the bed by Dame
Constance, he found the bloody knife.
Soon

after,the

Alas ! what
For

Alia

King
the

was

time, and
*
*

woe

her wit

was

she say ?
all away.

and of
told the circumstances
of this misfortune,
found
Constance
where, and in what manner
was

Work.
Her Christian

For, or

very

might

" Behaviour.
ashamed.
faith.
^Die.
through her wakefulness in her orisons.

Astonished,or

TALES,

CANTERBURY

246

in the ship,as ye have before heard

he
to arise in the king's heart, when
fallen into such

Pity began

benign

so

saw

creature

condition.

unhappy

an

describe.

me

to-ward his death is brought,

as the lamb
So stands this innocent before the king.
This falsfe knight,that hath this treason
wrought,
For

But

That
For

people,and say*they cannot

the

she had
thev

done

have

great

her

seen

ever

Of this bare

witness

he that

Save

so

every

virtuous,

in that

her life.

house,

with his knife.

slew

Hermegild

guess

wickedness

lovingHermegild rightas

And

The

so

thing.

murmuring

nevertheless

Among

this

done

that she hath

her in hand
there was
great

Bear'th

gentle king hath caught a great motive on the part of this

he thought he would
inquiredeeper into the case

witness, and
in order

learn

the

thou

hast no
the
less
champion, nor
day ! unHe
that died
bound
Satan
there where he yet lies,
be now
even
thy strong champion ; for
unless Christ make
known
thee
some
miracle,without
upon
shalt
thou
slain
down
herself
be
She
her
set
guilt
as
on
guilty.
to

knees,

and

said,

Alas

truth.

thou
for our

canst

Constance,

thyselffight. So woe
redemption, and that

"

Immortal
from
God, that savedest Susanna
thou
I
merciful
blame,
mean
maid, Mary,
daughter to
Saint Anne, before whose
child angels sing Hosannah
! if I be
of this felony,succour
shall
I
die."
else
guiltless
me, or
false

and

Have

ye not

(Among
Toward

such

colour

mighten
Amongfe all the
So

stands

him

face
palfe
lad*

gain^th no grace,
face hath had.

that

so

was

faces in that rout

Constance,and

been

him

in his

know

that hath

of him

death,*where
a

Men

time

some

press^

his

And

seen

bestad*

-fi

looketh

her about.

living in prosperity,duchesses, and ye ladies every

some
pity on her adversity. An emperor's daughter
one,
stands alone.
She hath no wight to whom
she may make
her
blood
O
complaint.
royal,
queens

have

Far. be

thy

that standeth in this dread,

friendfes at thy greate need.

This King Alia hath such

of pity" that the water
ran
"

And

they say.
own

"

compassion"

Crowd,

observation,

down
"

from

as

gentlehearts

his eyes.

**

Now

are

full

hastily

* A
Led.
touch from Chaucer's
"
"
Beset.
Company.

7nE^
fetch hither

OF

MAN

LA

"

book," quoth he

WS

TALE,

Uf

if this knight will swear

will then consider who
that Constance
slew this woman,
we
shall be our justice[to
A
British
book, in which was
try her]."
written the Evangelists,
was
fetched,and on this book he swore
a

anon

she

upon

the bone

in the

guilty; and

was

he fell anon
That down
both his eyen burst

meantime

hand

smote

him

of the neck.

And

In

and

sightof
voice

every

body

rightas
out

of his

in that

stone,

face,

place.

heard,in generalaudience,

was

hast de-slander'd,
That said, " Thou
guilteless,
The daughter of holy church in her presence :
Thus

hast

thou

I my peace."
the
all
press ;

done, and yet

this marvel

hold

Of
aghast was
As mazfed folk they stooden every one,
For dread of wreakfe,*
Constance
alone.
save

Great
had

the

was

dread, and

wrongly suspected

also the

simple

the

repentance,
and

and, in conclusion, for this miracle, and

innocent

of them

that

Constance

through Constance's

others

then present were

verted
conslain
false knight was
I The
be thanked
: Christ's grace
untruth
stance
Conhis
for
and
of
the
sentence
Alia,
;
by
hastily,
yet
for
death.
And
his
of
had
afterward,Jesus,
pity
great
Alia
with
wed
made
his mercy,
great solemnity.

mediation, the

king

and

many

This

holy maidfe,that

And

thus

hath Christ

brightand sheen
ymade Constdnce a
is

;
queen.

of
in great woe
(ifI shall not lie)on account
the
she
this marriage, but Donegild (and
only),
king'smother,
her
heart
cursed
of
She
full
thought
tyranny?
woman]
[a
have
would
had
her
do
this
not
she
asunder
son
would
burst
;
and malice that he should have
full of anger
thing ; she was
be his mate.
to
taken so strange a creature
who

But

was

of the straw,
nor
Me list not of the chaff,
Maken
so
long a tale,as of the corn.

Why
course

in

should I tell of the royaltyof this marriage? Or which

in a trumpet or
bloweth
goes first [atthe feast J ? Who
horn

?
fruit of every tale is for to say
They eat, and drink,and dance, and

The

Some

time

after the

king goes
*

to

sing,and play.

Scotland

Vengeance.

to seek

his foes

TALES,

CANTERBURY

248

of a bishop and of the

is intrusted to the care
and Constance
male child is born, and is
constable ; and while he is absent
a
The constable orders forth a
christened Maurice
at the font.
the
unto
he wrote
: and
king the blissful tidingsof
messenger
and other tidings
to be speedily
what had befallen,
necessary
the
a
nd
forth
he goes on
hath
known.
The messenger
letter,
This messenger,
his way.
thinking to benefit himself,rides
guage
the
king'smother, and saluteth her in fair lanimmediatelyto
:"

ye may be glad and

thanken
And
thousand sithe
God a hundred
My lady queen hath child,withouten doubt,
To joy and bliss of all the realm about,

Madame," quoth he,

**

"

blithe,
;'

the letters sealfed of this thing,

That I must
bear with all the haste I may.
If ye will oughf* unto your son the king,
I am
bothfe night and day."
your servant

Lo, here

Donegild answered

"

As

this timfe

now

Nay,
thy rest,
"

But here all night I will thou take

To-morrow
will I say thee what me

lest."^

This messenger
ale and wine ;
drank sadl)^*
And
stolen were
his letters privily
Out of his box, while he sleptas a swine.
And counterfeited they were
subtlely;
Another she him wrought full sinfully,
Unto the king,direct of this matt^re
From
his constable,as ye shall after hear.
The letter spake, The queen delivered was
Of so horrible and fiend-like creature,
That in the castle none
so hardy was,
That any whilfe durst therein endure.
The mother was
elf by adventure
an
"

Become, by
And

every

charmfes

man

or by sorcery ;
hateth her company.

Woe
this king when he this letter had seen.
was
But to no wight he told his sorrows
sore,
But of his owen-hand
he wrote again ;
"

Welcome

the sonde* of Christ for evermore

leamM
in this lore !
am
now
Lord, welcome be thy luste and thy pleasince;
My lust I put all in thine ordinance.
To

me,

that

Keepeth this child,all be

And
"

Times.
*

eke my

wife,unto

it foul or fair.
mine home comfng

"WiH send anything.

Steadily,
pertinaciously,

'
*

Me

Gift.

lest

"

"

pleasesme.
Desire.

Th"

iVA//

Christ when

la

of

he

list may

More

ig^eablethan

This

letter he

irS

TALE,

senden

me

H^
an

heir

liking."
sealeth,
privilywecpfng,
this to my

and

he goes forth.
O Messenger,
Strong is thy breath,thy
limbs are
and thou betrayestall secrets.
ever
faltering,
Thy
mind
is lost ; thou janglest as a jay ; thy face is changed.
Where
drunkenness
there,without
prevailethin any company,
hid.
be
I
O
have
counsel
no
no
can
English
doubt,
Donegild,
worthy of thy malice and thy tyranny ; and therefore I resign
tliee to the fiend : let him
indite thy treason.
Fie, mannish
I
He
Spirit,
Oh, nay, by God, I lie.

which

was

soon

taken

to the messenger,
full of drunkenness
!

for I dare well tell,

Fie,Jiendlike
Spirit,
thou
is in hell.
here
walk,
Though
thy spirit

cometh
from the king again,and alightsat the
of the king's mother
court
; and she was
very glad,and strove
all
He
in
him
to please
possible ways.
drank, and well filled
out his girdle. He
sleepethand he snoreth in his usual manner
until the sunrise.
of his
all night,and
Again were
every one
others counterfeited in this manner
letters stolen,and
The
:
his
commanded
that
of
on
constable,
penalty
hanging
king
under
and high judgment, he should not suffer Constance
any
within his kingdom three days and the
circumstances
to abide
quarter of a tide.
This messenger

"

But

in the samfe ship as he her found

Her and her young^ son and all her gear,
He should^ put, and crowds from the lond,^
eft* come
And charge her that she never
there.
O my Constance I well may thy ghost*have fear,
And sleepingin thy dream, be in penance.
When
Donegildcast all this ordinance.

awoke
the morrow
he took the nearest
the messenger
on
the constable
the castle,and gave
the letter,
who,
way unto
it.cried ** Alas ! and woe
the day 1
when he saw
When

Lord Christ,"
quoth
So full of sin is many

Oh

mighty God,

he,
a

"

how

creature

this world

may

endure,

if that it be thy will,since thou

it be that innocence
is suffered

rightful
perish,and
may
wicked
people to reign in prosperity.Ah, good Constance,
be thy tormentor
is me, that \ must
alas ! woe
or die a shameful
death : there is no other way."
Judge, how

Land.

Again,

"

art a

to

Spirit.

7 ALES,

CANTERBURY

25(5

that the

When

this cursfed letter sent

king

fourth^
nevertheless

The
But

taketh

she

will of Christ,and

She

said^, Lord, aye welcome

be

"

that

He

keep

me

can

in the land

was

harm

from

strond,

the

thy

sond."*

the falsfeblame,

keptfefrom

me

While

good intent,

in

kneeling on

The

He

deadly pal6 face,

day toward her ship she went

Constance, with

And

place

old in all that

and

both young

Weepen

amongfes
eke

and

you,
from

shame

In the salt sea, although I see not how

;
he was, he is rightnow
As strong as ever
dear.
In him trust I,and in his mother
That is to me my sail,and eke my steer.^

lay weeping in her arm ;

she said,
to him
kneelingpiteously,

littlechild

Her

And

Peace, littleson, I will do thee no harm :'*

With
that,her kerchief off her head she braid,"
his littleeyen she it laid,
And over
she lulleth it full fast.
her
in
And
arm
*"

And

heaven

unto

her eyen

up

she cast.

it is

bright, Mary, true

Mother," quoth she, and maiden
mankind
was
lost,and
incitement
that through woman's
rent
thy child was
to death, for which
for ever
"

"

demned
conon

all his torment

; then is there no
that man
and any
woe
may
comparison
thine
slain
before
child
Thou
sustain.
sawest
eyes, and
thy
littlechild lives :
my
yet, by my faith,
cross.

blissful eyes
saw
between
thy woe

Thy

all woful cry,

Now, lady bright! to whom
of
Thou
glory womanhood, thou fairfeMay !
haven

Thou
Rue on
Ruest

of

child,that

my

every

on

day
thy gentleness

brightstar
refuge,
of

of

sinful in distress.

thy guilt,
as
yet, pardie?
will
thine hardfe father have thee spilt
P'*
Why
O mercy, dearfe constable,"
said she,
alas ! what
littlechild,

is

That

sin

"

wroughtest

never

And

let my littlechild dwell here with thee

dar'st not saven
him
for blame,
So kiss him onfes in his father's name."

And

Therewith

she looketh

backward

saidfe,Farewell,husband, ruthfeless
up

Toward

"

the strand
down
rose, and walketh
the ship ; her followeth all the
press

"

Gift,or bidding.

Y\\q\.^
guide.

Put

"

Crowd

death.

she

to

"

to the land

"

And
And

if thou

"

;*

Took.

"

THE

And

And
She

The
a

long

she

had
weather

took her
blesseth

2%\

child to hold his peace,

leave,and with holy intent

her,'and to the ship she went.

victualled

ship was

TALE.

LAWS

pray'thher

she

ever

OF

MAN

her, it is no

for

fear,abundantly,for
that she might need,

necessaries
the
be
of God.
grace
enough,praised
Almighty God provide,and bring her
of other

; and

space

I
But

in the

Alia the
Unto

And

can

better

no

home

wind

and

say,

she driveth forth her way.

sea

home
king comes
o
f
castle, the

his

asketh

For

after this

soon

which

his wife and

where

The

constable

And

plainlyall the matter

told,

his child is ;

his heartfe

'gan about

he him

cold,

told

I can
As ye have heard
tell it no better
and his letter.
sealfe
show'd the kingfes
"

"

And
And

"

saidfe,Lord, as ye
Up' pain of death,so

The

messenger

and

fullyin what

was

Imagin'd
The

hand

And

But

in what

without

I done

me,

certain."

know
and
tell plainly
tortured until he must
had
lain
he
place from night to night
;

thus

And

commanded
have

by

wit and

by

was

that the letter wrote.

deed.

of this cursed

venom

certainlyI know

doubt, that Alia

plainlyunderstand

inquiring
'gan to spring.

this

knowen

was

all the

manner

subtle

whom

she

slew
was

not.

The

efTect is

this,

his mother, that men

might
traitor to her allegiance: this

that Alia
the unhappy end of old Donegild. The
sorrow
for
wife
his
child
be told
maketh
and
and
day
night
may
I will now
again turn to Constance, who
by no
tongue.
in
and
five years and more,
in
floateth
the sea,
as
pain
sorrow,
was

it pleased Christ's will,before "her ship approached the land.

I find not
At last,under a heathen
castle (of which
the name
in my text)Constance
and her child are
cast
by the sea.
up
all
that
have
saved
some
brance
rememmankind,
Almighty God,

of Constance

and

her

child,that are fallen presently

hands, and are on the point of destruction.
Down
from the castle there cometh
a wight to gaze
on
many
from
and
this ship
Constance
the
on
shortlyon a night
; and
castle the lord's steward (God give him
misfortune)" a thief
into the ship alone, and
that had renounced
our
creed, came
into heathen

offered violence

to her.
"

Herself.

TALMS.

CANTERBVRy

252
^

Woe

this wretched

was

childfe

Her

then

begon
piteously;

woman

and
crieth,

she

blissful Mary help'dher rightanon,

with her strugglingwell and mightily
The thief felloverboard all suddenly,
in the sea he drownfed for vene^ednce ;
And
But

For

"

And

thus

luxury,thine

foulfe lust ! O

O,

kept Constance,

Christ unwemmed^

hath

end

mind
man's
faint,but verilythou
Not only dost thou make
end of thy work, as of thy blind lusts,
ruinest his body. The
find that,not for the sin committed,
is complaining. How
men
many
but for their intent to do this sin,they are either ruined
have the strengthto
this weak woman
slain ! And how
or
may
defend herself againstthis renegade ?
of

Goliath, immeasurable

How

mights

David

and of armour
So young,
durst he look upon
How

Well

Who
gave Judith courage
his tent, and to deliver out
God a
I say that even
as

So sent

so mate,*
desolate.

thy dreadful
but

Goddes

hardihood

to

of wretchedness

face ?
grace.

in
slay Holofernes
the people of God ?

and vigour sent

spirit
of mischance,*
out
and
vigour to Constance.
might
savfed them

them, and

To

or

thee
so

say it was

men

may

length.

maken

he

mouth
Forth go'thher shipthroughout the narrow
Of Gibraltar and Ceuta,drivingalway.
north and south,
Sometime
west, and sometime

An^

sometime

east, full many

Till Christy's mother

shapen through her

Hath

To

make

end

an

day,
she,aye !)
goodfeness
weary

(blessedbe

of all her

endless

heaviness.

short time, and speak we of

the Roman
By letters from Syria he hath learned
emperor.
done
the slaughterof the Christian people, and the dishonour
I
the
cursed
wicked
false
traitor"
mean
to his daughter by a
Sultaness, who had caused littleand great to be all slain at the
Now

let

us

leave

Constance

for

in a
hath sent his senator
in consequence
knows
of other lords God
a one, to
many
royal
the
take high vengeance
Syrians. They bum, slay,and
upon
bring to misfortune for a long time,but in the end they address
And
homeward.
to their return
as this victorious
themselves

feast.

The

emperor
and
manner,

Unspotted,

So

suddenlystricken

dead.

"

evil.
Misfortune,

THE

OF

MAN

LA

WS

TALE.

253

he met,
repairethto Rome, sailingfull royally,
t
he
shipdrivingalong.
story relates,
senator

as

the

Constance
sitteth full piteously
:
knew
she
he
what
ne
why
Nothing
was,
She was
in such array, she n'ouldfe say
Of her estate,although she should^ dey.*
In which

ne

bringethher to Rome ; and to his wife

also ;
He gave her, and her youngfe
son
led she her life.
And with the senator
Thus can our lady bringen out of woe,
another mo*,
Woeful
Constance, and many
that
in
timfe dwell'd she
And longfe
place.
He

holy works

In

as

ever

was

her grace.

her aunt, but for all that she did not

The senator's wife was
I
leave
Constance
will
under the government
know
her.
now
to
of the senator, and return
Alia, who for his wife weepeth
and
and sighethsorely;
who, on a day, fell into such repentance
for having slain his mother, that he came
to Rome
for
and
the
himself
under
in all
Pope's directions,
put
penance,
matters, high and low, and besought Jesus Christ to forgiveall
fame
The
is immediately carried through
works.
his wicked
the town
by his harbinger that King Alia should come
on
rode
the
and
to
was
as
meet
usual,
pilgrimage;
him,
senator,
of his kindred, not only to exhibit proper reverence
with many
for the king,but also to show his own
high magnificence. Great
and
did
the
show
king and the senator
to
hospitality honour
it so happened that in a day or two
each other; and
the
feast with King Alia, and in his company
Some
also Constance's
would
went
men
son.
say it was
that the senator
led the child
the request of Constance
the feast.
senator

went

to

I may
Be

at
to

tellen every circumstance

;
he at the least.
be may, there was
sooth it is rightat his mother's hest,'

not
as

But

Before them all,

during the meatus space.
stood
The child
lookingin the king^s face.
This

Alia

"

Whose
"

in
briefly,

of this child great

he said
"

n'ot,"*quoth he, by God

mother he hath,but father
I of wot

wonder,

anon.

is that fair^ child that standeth

That

but
had

king hath

to the senator

And

and
hath

yonder ?

"

by Saint John

he none,

"

short space

of

time,he

told Alia how

the child

found.

been
"

Die.

Will.

"

Ne

wot, know

not.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

254
**

But God
wot," quoth this senator
So virtuous a liver in my life
Ne saw I never
;

also,

"

heard

of worldly woman,
whether
maiden
well
knife
she
had
rather
were
a
wife,or
say
than
become
wicked
driven through her breast
woman.
a
could
is no
that
this
There
her
Now
to
man
bring
point."
Constance
it was
like unto
child was
as
as
possiblefor a
mused
creature
to be, and
Alia, having her face in memory,
could be she who had been
thereon, if that the child's mother
he
and
hurried
from the table.
his wife.
sighed,
Privily

nor

have

ever

widow.

"*

more

I dare

**

Parfay,"thought he, phant6m is in my head,

I ought to deem
of rightful
judgement,
That

in the saltfesea

my

wife is dead."

I but
afterwards
he argued with himself-""
How
know
wife by sea, as
well as he
Christ have sent
hither my
she departed 1 '*
her to my
sent
country, from whence
home
with the senator
if
after noon
he went
And
to
see
this wonder
had
paid him great
happened. The senator
honour.
And hastilyhe sent aftfcrConstdnce.

And

that

But trusteth well her luste not to dance :

that she wistfe wherefore was
that sond ;*
When
Unnethfes' on her feet she mights stond.
Alia saw
his wife,fair he her gret,'
And wept, that it was
nithh for to see ;
look he on her set
For at the firstfe
He knew
well verilythat it was
she.
dumb
And for sorrow
she
stands
as
as tree ;
So was
her hearth shut in her distress,
his unkindfeness.
When
she remember'd
When

Twies
He

wept, and

in his

him

owen

excuseth

God," quoth he,

wiselyon my soul

sight;
piteously;

"and

all his hallows*

So
have mercy.
as
That of your harm as guilt^less
I
am
As is Maurice
face
like
my son, so
your
;
Ellfesthe fiend me
fetch out of this place."
"

Now

she swoonfed

bright.

the sobbing and the bitter pain

was
Ere that their woful hearths mighten cease,
for to hear them plain.
Great was
the pity
which^
plaintdsgan their woe increase.
Through
I pray you all my labour to release,
I may
tell their woe
not
until to-morrow,

Long

I
*

am

Message.

so

weary
'

for to

Hardly.

speak of
*

sorrow.

Greeted.

Saints.

THE

MAN

But finally,when
of her woe

the

OF

truth

LA

W\S

is known

TALE,

255

that Alia

was

guiltless

"

timfes they been kissed,

I trow a hundred
And such a bliss is there betwixt them two,
That save the joy that lasteth ever
mo*,
like that any creature
There is none
while that the world may 'dure.
Hath
or shall,
seen

meekly, in order to relieve

prayed she her husband
her
of
the long pining
heart, that he would
beg her father
of
his
vouchsafe
with
to dine
to
some
majesty
day
specially
him
of herself.
also to say nothing to him
them
prayed
; she
Then

Some

would

men

say

that the

child

the emperor,
but, as
guess.
him
who
send
child
to
a
as
only
and the flower of all Christendom
of honour
also himself.
The
believe he went
emperor
to dinner :
the request to come

message

unto

unwise

to

Maurice

doth

this

Alia was
not
so
is the sovereign
; it is better to

kindly granted

"

well rede I he looked

Upon the child,and on his

As

busily
daughter thought.

goes to his lodging,and, as he should, arrays

everything
for the feast to the best of his
The
morrow
came
wife
his
and
the
Alia
in
and
to
and
meet
prepared
ioy
emperor,
she saw
her father
and gladness they rode forth,and when
and falleth before him.
in the street, she alightedhastily,
Alia

ability.

"

Father,"quoth she,
Is

now

full clean

"

out

your

youngfe child,Constance,

of your

remembrance.

daughter,your Constance,'*
quoth she
have
sent into Surrle ;*
ye
that in the salt" sea.
It am
I,father,
Was
for to die ;
put alone,and damnM*
I
father,
goodfe
Now,
mercy
you cry ;
Send me
unto
no
more
none
heathenesse.
am

'*

your

That

But

thank

Who

can

Betwixt

whilom

lord here of his kindfeness."

my
the

piteousjoy6tellen all
three since
they been

them

thus ymet ?

end of my
tale ; the day goeth fast,I
But I shall make
an
will no longer delay. These
glad folk being seated at dinner,
I leave them
times greater
to dwell in joy and bliss a thousand
child Maurice
tell of. The
than I can
afterwards
made
was
the
and
lived
like a Christian,
by
doing great
pope,
emperor
honour
But I let his story pass by ; my tale
to Christ's church.
refers to Constance.
In the old Roman
gestes men
may find
his life. I bear it not in mind.
*

Syria.

'Condemned.

CANTERBURY

256
This

King Alia, when

and holy wife

day

to

conscience,

nor

envy, nor
for this end
nor

but

will

changeth

with

and there
littlewhile.

way,
a

not

abide ;

as

the tide.

day, that he stirred neither

nor
some
quarrel of kindred,
affection,^

delightfor

ire,nor
pride,nor

that

"

for time

night it

lived in such

ever

fittingtime, returns

the

saw

to

of this world

From

Who

he

England the nearest

quiet. Although it lasted but

his sweet
lives in joy and

Joy

TALES.

passion,'noroffence
a

I say this only

lasts the bliss of Alia and

little while

Constance,
Death, that

For

taketh

of

high

and

low

his rent,

had passed, and Constance

took Alia out of this world when
a
year
Now
for him.
let us pray to God
hath great sorrow
to
bless his soul.
Finally,Constance
goeth back to Rome, all her
her
finds
friends alive and in health.
she
where
adventures
over,
when

And
the

has found
and

she

ground,

she thanketh

God

father,she falleth

for tenderness

Weeping
a

hundred

holy charitythey

of

her

all

on

her knees

to

in hearts blithe,

times. In virtue and deeds

thousand

live,and

are

never

again

divided

until

This is the life they lead. Farewell,my tale

death parts them.
Now
is at an end.
send
Jesus Christ,that of his might may
in his grace,
and
us
joy after woe, govern
keep us all in

safety.

Professor

Lounsbury, of Yale, Newhaven, U.S.A., has lately

{NatioHyJuly 4th, 1889) that the hitherto lost work of
Chaucer, his translation
*of
the Wrechede
Engendryng of

shown

Mankynde,
the

first cast

as

of

in

ifinde mentioned
in
Pope Innocent
the prologue to his
Legend of Good Women,'

man

may

'

practicallyexists in the firstfour stanzas

of the Proem
to the
"
of Law's
Man
Tale,'in stanzas 47, 97, 1 18,148 of the Tale itself,
and in much
of the Pardoner's
talk on gluttony and appetitein
his Tale. All these portions of Chancers work
founded
are
on,

englished from, portions of the treatise of Pope Innocent

III., **De
Contemptu Mundi, sive de Miseria
Conditionis

or

Humanae."

MAN

THE

REMARKS

[F

ON

LAWS

OF

THE

OF

MAN

the story of the

TALE.

^$7

LAW'S

TALE.
Wife*

Persecuted

Innocent

there

are

versions, Arabian, Persian, Latin, Italian,

Mr. Clouston's
Spanish, French, Early English, etc.
of them
is in the Chaucer
sketch of most
Society's
volume
is the original
'Originalsand Analogues/' In the same
in his Confessio
of Chaucer's
version
Cojistance^ of Gower's
of Emare^
the
and
of
Amaniis^ book ii.,
Early English romance
from
Trivet's *Frencl) Chronicle,*
Nicholas
namely, an extract
with a modem
Edmund
late
the
Brock,* a 1 5th
englishing by
and Analogues from the Gesta Romanotum
century englishing,^
many

Paris.*
Matthew
The statement
in the

and

is

is not

be taken

to

from

main

source

Bretagnc lays

used

by oldfe days,
that

meaning

as

the

English writer

of that

his poem
from a Breton lay,or even
Trivet's
was
evidentlythe
poem.
prose
of the English poetical
versions of the Constance

fuller French

story.
It is

possibly true

Chaucer
Gower

to

was

translated

merely

romance

of

one

...

That

that its story

of Emare

romance

did his
in the
"

Some

does

of Law's

Man

wrote

Tale,*and

this message

this

unto

Maurice

send

the

to

Emperor

served

III.'s court,

Edward
at
years
the dignity of

"

Emperor. But Trivet sends

del
charga son fitz Morice

the

Constaunce
boy there too :
had
however,
Chaucer,
message."
of

Constance

that the child Maurice*

say how

would

men

"

for many

before
that the latter refers

his

lines

Doth

for Gower

Gower

that

as

and

valet and esquire

it shocked
hfs

unknown
lad of
Royalty, that an
be
should
sent
as
a
eighteen (though really a prince),
senger
mesof Rome,
that flower of Christian folk.
to the Emperor
He
therefore
set
the non- courtly or
provincial ignorance of

sense

Trivet

and

Gower

aside

as

courtierlyknowledge

own

that of "
of what

some
was

men," and showed

fittingon

such

his
an

occasion.
"

Pp. 366-414.

"

Pp.

53.
*

Pp. 221-250.

B, 10S6.

Pp. 55-84.

TALES,

CANTERBURY

258
"

But

as

To

I guess, Alia was

of so
that was

him

nought

nice^

so

sovereign hon"ur

As he that is of Christian folk the flower,

Sent any child ; but it is best to deem
He went himself ; and so it may well seem.**

of those self-revealinglittletouches which faithful

students of Chaucer
are
continuallyfinding in him, and which
That
it is also
and
readers
note.
dryasdusteditors never
hasty
characteristic of the Teller of the Tale (seebelow) is another
This

is

one

of the perfectionof Chaucer's

art.
in this
But if Chaucer
had, in point of time, followed Gower
the latter had
already written, we
story, and re-written what
of his prebe too
thankful for the just estimation
could not
We
Jecessor's labours, that he thus practicallyexhibited.
hand
to
nave
only to take up the first specimen that comes
called
Chaucer
of the productionsof the " Moral
as
Gower,"
and
how
it was
that such a character
him, to see
necessary
should be inspired
by that diviner
story as those of Constance

instance

knew
breath of poesy which the one
to givethem,
so well how
And
the other was
destitute.
we
but of which
completely
it
that
is not our
here observe
to lengthen out
purpose
may
each
of
in this Series,
the
to
Tales
the Remarks
appended
attention
by calling

to

Dryden's

fame

contrasts

of excellence,except
special and important

particular
passages

have
where
in those cases
we
*
in
the
Remarks
object in view, as
such at present. Gower
have none
; Chaucer
with him.

some

to the

Knight'sTale.*

We

of
has none
Dryden
the
able
favourmost
can
gain nothing by
It has been observed, " his narrative
is not

"

"
quitepetrifying
;

and one
can
easilyjudge that this is
that Gower
plished
no
exaggeration when we know
actuallyaccomthe feat of turning Ovid
into an
annalist.
of
There
three
features
of the * Man
two
or
however,
are,
is
Law's Tale * that demand
few
first
words.
The
a
passing
in which
the very dramatic
the character of the relater
manner
of Law
is preserved in the styleof the narrative.
the Man
It is impossiblefor a moment
has
to forgetthe traits. Chaucer
ascribea to him,

is often

"

"

Discreet he was, and of great reverence

He seemhd such
his wordes were
so wise.
"

"

Accordingly,nothing can
of poetical
proprietythan

be more
within the bounds
pompous
the styleof his language, or the whole
of his reflections,
tenor
and of which the firstverse
it
as
strikes,
were, the key-note
"

FooUsh.

THE
Oh

MAN-

OF

LA

hateful harm, condition

of
With thirst,
with cold,with

To

asken

helpit shameth

WS

TAL".

pov^rt'!
hunger, so

25^

confounded

in thine heart ; etc.

his desire to be correct, and to

in such seemingly trifling
state both sides of the question,even
how
Maurice
the Emperor alone, or in
went
to
questionsas,
with his father.
company

nothing more

than
professional

"

Some

would

men

say, etc.,

than
more
judge-like,and altogether characteristic,
his readiness to express
and
his condemnation
of error,
his
virtuous indignation
againstall evil doers. Has the Emperor

nothing

of Rome
send
to
pauses

when
he is about
forgottento consult the astrologers,
of Law
forth his daughter on
the Man
her voyage,
to ask

Imprudent Emperor of Rome, alas !

there no philosopherin all thy town

Was

Is the Sultaness

all sorts of wickedness

she
shall not at all events
in fiction,
without the Man
do it,even
of
head
Law's hurlinghis anathemas
her
at
:
O

about

commit

"

of iniquity.
Semiramis
the Second, etc.

root
Sultaness,

Viragothou"
Does

to

the

of Law
takes care
get drunk, the Man
messenger
that every one
who
listens to the tale shall tremble
for the
of
that
the
he
vice,by gazing on
picture paints
consequences
of the messenger,
fulfilled of drunkenness.
Does
the lord's
steward
offer violence to the lonely and miserable
Constance,
we

are

not

only informed

that he was
pointedfor us
carefully

our

creed,and

that he is

drowned,

thief that had renounced

but we have also the moral,
a

"

foulfelust of

luxury,lo,thine

end !

Chaucer, like Homer, must have his occasional nod, itseems.

he overlooked
the awkwardness
And at such a time, we
presume,
in sex,
from
the
the
that is felt on
reading
tale,
similarity
character,and influence of its chief moving agents.
position,
of the Sultan who
puts all the Christians to
and sends her forth to float
death at Constance's marriage feast,
of King Alia,
for days and years on the sea ; it is the mother
stance
Conabsence, re-commits
who, "during that monarch's
poor
from
which
she had before escaped so
element
to tibie
It is the mother

marvellously.
And
believe

Constance
she was

"

an

what

angel

is hers !
character
We
a
might
for her patience,
benignity,
heroism,

i6o

tales.

CANTURBURV

deeply how

thoroughly
retiringsensitiveness to the wrongs
or
appear to come, by the hands of those she loves
silence with which
in the tenacity and
they are

and

faith,but that

she

was

we

the woman,

that come,

and

see

feel

too

in her

best, and
of her feelings
when the
brooded
do learn somewhat
We
over.
first wrong is done her, because she has reason
to believe that
while
is
intended
she
her
so
no
obeys
parents, and will
;
wrong
reflection
to be wrung
nation,she allows the
go to the barbarous
from

her,
be born
Women
And to be under

to

thraldom

mannas

and

penince,

governance.

of her parents'act become

the consequences
fully
for
wild
waits
she
her
death
the
her, as
upon
waves,
ward"she
thenceforlonger words to speak her lipsare mute
but feel the anguish at her heart. She is driven
can
ashore upon the rocks of Northumbria, and the constable and
his wife relieve her from all further fear of death ; stillnot even
win her to disclose the sad story. As the
their kindness can

But when
known
to
she has no

"

poet says,
what
For foul

But

she wouldfe no man

say,
though that she should^ dey.
fair,

she
or

was

terrible era of her

So again with the next great and still more
has
firsttime
her
heart
life. For the
expanded towards a lover
in the person of her husband. Alia ; the joys of the mother
have
added
those
of
wife
in
the
she is
the enjoyment of
been
to
:
the highest bliss that humanity may well know ; when
suddenly
she is again on the shores of the dreadful sea, lulling
her child
until she enter it
untenanted
to keep it from
crying,the vessel
rocketh before her,the waves
and
roaring
dashing about her
feet,as though eager for her destruction. And it is her husband^
all this ; yet her only words are
she thinks,who has commanded
"

"

"

Farewell,husband, ruth^less,
and

she enters

the

ship,prayingthe

child

to hold

his peace.
terrible deep,
but is silent to the Senator.
An
ordinaryobserver might think
all this while she felt little; but mark, when
she does again
with Alia, how
all that has been passing within her is
meet
revealed"
how
the woman,
the tender,confiding,but as she
believes cruellytrampled on
becomes
At
woman,
apparent.
the firstlook Alia knew
her ; and as to Constance,

Again

she

is redeemed

from

the

ever

jaws

of the

she for sorrow

dumb stood as a tree
as
her heartfe shut in her distress.
So was
When
she reraember'd his unkind^ness.

she soon
learns her
happy Constance.
But

error"

and

then

indeed

it is

happy,

WIFE

THE

old6

OF

davfes

which

All
The

that

Danced

full

This

But

now
now

of

and

thick

hundred
see

I read

as

years

ago.

elvfes mo*

none

charity and pray^res

other
holy freres,
land

every
in

motfes

as

greenfe mead.

opinion

man

greats

searchen

That
As

in many

old

many

no

can

the

limitours*

Of

King

Britons

oft

the

was

speak

For

the

of

TALE.

Arth6ur/
speaken great honour.
this land fulfill'd " of Faery :
was
her jolly company
Elf-queen with

Of

BATH'S

and

the

stream.

every

beam,

sunn^

and
kitchenfes
Blessing halls, chambers,
bowers,
Cities, boroughs, castles high, and towers,
Thorpfes, barnfes, shepenes*^ and dairies,

This

maketh

For

there

There
In

As

walketh

saith
he

There

it

this

appeals

were

by

granted

Arthur.

Friars

Stables.

his

within

begging
^

At

holy things

great

the

then
so

and

up

Arthur

had

the

in his

riding

came

and

grossly

clamour

household

from

river,

ill-treated
and

arose,

the

such

her.

earnest

the
king, that
knight was
demned
conof
lost
and
would
have
his
law,
the statute), but
that
the
queen
unto

the

king

time,

and

he

long
the

"

full.

dinner

down

dishonour/

day
him,

one

before

life for

piUed,

his

no

King

course

(such perhaps was

ladies
other
prayed

an

himself

tree,
every
Incubus
but
he.

thdm

do

unto

death

him

or

elf,

morrowings,

go
under

he

as

made

in

safely

this

walking
oppression so

to

"

who

maiden

For

he

will

befell, that

so

saw

and

ne

was

limitour

and

other

none

is

he

lusty bachelor,

head

bush,

Faeries

no

his limitatioun

now

may

ever^

And

And

and
matins

in

be

walken
the

now

his

go'th

Women
In

to

undermealfes*

And

there

that
wont

as

district
times.

limited

pardon,

gave

him

that
to

More.

assigned

or
'

for

An

ironical

to

them.
line.

the

i6i

CANTERBUI^y

TALES.

him
to put him
to
at her will to save
or
queen to be entirely
thanketh
the king
death as she might choose.
The
queen
with all her heart,and afterwards thus speaks to the knight,
When
**

Thou
hast no

that she

her time upon

saw

yet,"quoth she, "

surety for thy life." But

standest

"

day

in such

positionthat thou

if thou canst tellen me

I grant thy life,
that women
it
desiren ;
What
is
most
thing
neckfe-bone
from
and
iron.
Beware,
keep thy
it
tellen
if
thou
not
And
canst
anon,
Yet will I give thee leavfe for to gone*
A twelvemonth
and a day it for to lere "
An answer
stiffisantin this mattdre
;
And surety will I have, ere that thou pace,
Thy body for to yieldenin this place.

The knight was

sad, and he sighed sorrowfully. But what ?
He may
at last he chose to
not do justwhat he pleaseth. And
would
at the year'send with such answer
as God
go, and return
his
his
forth
him.
He
takes
and
for
on
provide
leave,
goes
way.
He seeketh every house and every place
Whereso
he hopeth for to finden grace,
To learnen what thingwomen
loven most

But he ne could arriven in no coast

Where
as he mights find in this matt^re
Two
in fere.*
creatures According
loven best riches,
Some
saiden women
Some
Some
some

sensual

said honour, and

rich array ;

some

said

jolliness,

pleasures.

And

oftfetime to be

Some
said that we
be most
flattered and praised; and
truth.
"

wid6w, and

wed.

in heart when
be
we
lie he goes near
the

contented
I will not

"

shall win us best with flattery

;
with attendance,
and with business
Be we ylimfed,*
and less.*
bothfe more
And
saiden that we loven best
some
men
For to be free,
and do rightas us lest

man

And

-f

*
*
"

Go.

Learn.
Caught as with birdlime.
That is to say, great and

Accordingin

or rich
little,

fere

and

"

agreeingtogether

poor.

"

Please.

THE

And

WIFE

that

But

in truth there

But

no

man

say that

wight attack us
speaks trulyof us

are
on

us
reprove
be wise and

we

of

TALE.

263

of

our
vice,
nothing nice.*

all that will not resent

it,if a
he
point and especiallybecause

none
a

BATH'S

OF

sore

us

"

Assay, and

shall find it that

he

so

doth ;

vicious within,we
for be we never
be held to be wise
must
so
said
And
that
have
and virtuous.
some
we
great delight to be
stable and also secret, and to dwell steadfastlyin
considered
one

to

that men
have told
purpose, and as not betraying matters
But that tale is not worth the handle
of a rake.
Pardie,
Will ye
conceal
women
can
nothing,as witness Midas.

us.

we

hear

the tale ?
"

Ovid, among his other thing^ssmall.

Said, Midas had unddr his longfehairs,
Growing upon his head, two ass's ears ;
The whichi vice he hid,as he best might,
Full subtlelyfrom every mannfes
sight,
That, save his wife,there wist of it no mo'.
lov*d her most, and
her that to
prayfed

He
He

To
She

creature

tellen of his

She should^
She swore
She

trusted her also ;

no

disfigure.
Nay, for all this world
that villainy
or
sin.

him

win

to

n'ouldfe do
her husband
make

But
That
Her

have so foul a name

tell it for her owen
shame.
nathfeless her thoughts that she died
would

not

long a counsel shouldfe hide ;

thought it swell so sore about her heart.
word her must
astart ;""*
needfelysome
she

so

That
since she durst
And

not

tell it

unto

man,

fastfeby she ran,

Down
to a marais^
fire ;"
there her hearts was
Till she came
on
in the mire.
And as a bittern bumbleth
the water
down.
unto
She laid her mouth
"

water, with
I tell it,and

Betray me not, thou

Quoth she, ** to thee

**

Mine
Now
I

is my

hath long ass's ear^s two.

heart all healed,now
is it out,

might no longer keep it,out

though
we

If ye would hear the remnant

learn it. The knight
ye may
Foolish

or

mo*.

no

husband

Here may
ye see,
Yet out it must
;

"

thy soun,"

silly.

can

we
no

of the
to

whom

of doubt.

time

counsel

abide,
hide.

tale,read
my

Let escape.

"

tale

Ovid, and there

refers
especially
'

Marsh,

UR

CANTERB

264
when

he

what

women

home

he

that he

saw

love

goeth

he must

might

most,
he may

"

TALES,

arrive at the knowledge of

in his spirit. But
very sorrowful
tarry, for the day has arrived that

not

was

not

thus

homewards.

turn

him

happened

it

in his way

And
.

all his care, und^r

Whereas
he saw
upon
In

to

ride,

forest side ;

dancfe go
twenty, and yet mo'.*
he drew full yem,^
this
ilkfedance
Toward
should^ learn ;
wisdom
In hope that he some
But certainlyere he came
fullythere
a

Of ladies four and

Yvanish'd

and

he

beheld

saw

old

an

woman

She

there lieth no
what ye seek.

wight there

no

may

he

man

devise.

Perchance
the better be

it may

dead
could

the green

the knight, saying,"Sir knight,

Tell me, on your fait\
in this direction.

way

These

"My

on

approached

and

arose

where

not

"

fouler

wist

bearing life,
except that
sitting

creature

no

dance, he

this

was

quoth she,
thing,'*

oldfe folk con' muchel

mother,*'quoth this knight, "certainly I am but

desire most
unless I say what
:
thing it is that women
dear

ye teach

I would

me

"

Plight me

"

The

nextfe

Thou

shalt

requitewell

hire."

thy truth here in my hand," quoth she,

thee.
thing that I requirfe
it do, if it be in thy might,

I will tell it thee

And

your

it be

ere

night."

quoth the knight, I grant.*'*

trothfe,"
Thenn^," quoth she, I dare me well avaunt,*
Thy life is safe,for I will stand thereby,
Upon my life the queen will say as I.
is the proudest of them
Let see which
all,
That
weareth on a kerchief or a caul.
That dare say nay of thing I shall thee teach.
Let us go forth withouten
more
speech."
"

Have

"

here my

*'

"

Then

whispered she

short

lesson

in his ear, and

bade

him

to

glad and fearless.

When
they arrived at the court, the knight said he had kept
his day, as he had promised, and was
ready with his answer.

be

More.

Know,

this

sense

or

do
that
"

Eagerly.

much,

etc.

shows
ancestors
our
that knowledge \^ power.

callyaware
Agree.
*

can

The
were

frequent use
most

Boast,guarantee.

of

this

word

in

thoroughlyand practi^

THE

WIFE

Full many
And
The

wife,and

widow
herself

(forthat

sittingas

be, his

answer

many
queen

Assembled
And

noble

BATffS

OF

To

265

maid,
they
wise),
a justise,
a

many

be

for to hear

this knight was

wight commanded

afterward
every
that the

And

TALE,

;
bid appear.

was

silence,

knight should tell in audience

What
loven best.
thing that worldly women
This knightne stood not stillas doth a beast,
But

answ^r'd

to this

question anon
manly voice,that

With

all the court

it heard

"My

lieg^lady,generally,"quoth he,
Women
desiren to have sovereignty.
As well ov^r their husband
as their love,^
"

And

for to be in mastery him above.

This is your most
desire,though ye me kill ;
Do as you list,
I am
here at your will."

In all the court

widow
there was
neither maid, wife, nor
that
opposed what he said,but all declared that he was
worthy to
have his life :
with

And

that word

start

up

this oldfe wife*

sittingon the green.

Mercy,'*quoth she,"my sovereignlady queen,
Ere that your court depart^,do me
right.
I taught this answer
rightunto this knight,
Which

that

the

knight

saw

"

his truthfe there,

For which he plighted
me
I
would him requere*
Thfe firsts thing that
He would
it do, if it lay in his might.
Before this court then pray I thee.Sir knight,"
Quoth she, "that thou me take unto thy wife ;
For well thou wo'st that I have kept thy life :
If I say false,say nay upon
thy fay."
This knight answ^rd, *' Alas ! and wala wa
I wot
righiwell that such was my behest ;
For Goddfes love as choose a new
request :

!*

let my body go.**

she
then, " I shrew* us bothfe two
Nay," quoth
For though that I be foule,and old,and poor,
I n* ould for all the metal ne for the ore
That under earth is grave, or lieth above,
Take

all my

goods,and

"

thy wife I were, and eke thy love."

! " quoth he ; " nay, my damnation
love
My
Alas ! that any of my nation
Should ever
so foully
disparagedbe."
that he
But all for nought ; the end is this,
But

if

"

Lover.

'Woman.

was,

he needcs

her wed.
take this oldfe wife,and go with her to bed.

Constrained
And

"Require.

must

'"Oh,dear

I alas !

Curse.

CANTERB

266

Now

do

perchance
not

day

to

care

of

some

men

tell you

the

UR

TALES.

would

say, that from

of the feast
that
shortly

answer
was

feast,no

no

but heaviness and

There was
For privilyhe wedded
her on

And
So

all
woe

after hid him

him, his wife looked

But this old wife

so

foul.

"

smiled upon

evermore

sorrow

owl,

an

"

"

the

the morrow,

day

as

on

joy at all,

muchel

was

"

negligence I

the array

joy and

marriage,but I shall
there

him, and said,

"

O dear^ husband, benediciie t

Far'th^ every knightthus with his wife
Is this the law of King Arthourfes house
Is every knight of his thus dangerous ?

ye?

as

love,and eke your wife,

that savfed hath your life,
And certes yet did I you ne*er unright : ^
Why fare ye thus with me the firsts night?
that had lost his wit.
Ye faren like a man
I

am

your

am

she which

owen

What
And

is my guilt.? for God's

if I
it shall be amended

"

Amended

**

Is

love tell me

it,

may."

"

"alas ! nay, nay,

quoth this knight-,
mo* ;
It will not be amended, never
and so old als6,
Thou
art so loathly,
of so low a kind.
And thereto comen
That little wonder
is,though I wallow and wind,
So wouldfe God mine hearth wouldfe brest."^
!

"

of your
this,"quoth she, the cause
Yea, certainly,"
quoth he, no wonder
Now, sir,"quoth she, I could amend
it were
If that me list,
ere
dayfesthree,
**

"

"

so

that ye

"

might

unrest

bear

yourselftowards

me

in

"

is."

all this.

proper

manner.

for ye speaken of such gentleness

of old richdss.
out
Therefore should ye be holden gentlemen ;
Such arrogancfe
is not worth a hen.

But
As

Look
in

who

is descended

it is that is always most

virtuous,alike in privateand

public,
and most
intendeth aye
To do the gentledeedfes that he can,
Take him for the greatest gentleman.
Christ wills we c]aim of him our gentleness.
Not of our elders for their old richdss ;

iPehaveth,

^y^xon^,

"

Purst,

THE

For

WIFE

thoug^hthey ^iveus

267

TALE,

BATirS

OF

all their

heritage,

For which we claim to be of high parage,*

Yet may
they not bequeathen for no thing
of us their virtuous living,
To none
That
And

made
bade

them
us

be,
gentlemen ycallfed
in such degree.

follow them

the wise poet of Florence, Dante, say upon

this
of
matter, Full seldom riseth up by his small branches
prowess
that
of
his
wills
claim
from
him
we
man.
goodness,
our
God,
gentleness. Of our elders we may claim only temporal things,
Well

may

that man
hurt and maim.
Every one knows as well as I
may
that if gentleness were
planted naturallyin a certain lineage
down
the line of descent,they would never
in privateor
cease
in public to do the fair offices of gentleness,and they might do
no

of

manner

vice.

villainynor

Take fire,
and beare it in the darkest house
Betwixtfe this and the Mount
Caucasus,
and go thenne,
shut the doorfes,
And let men
Yet will the fire as fair and lightsbrenne^
As twenty thousand
men
might it behold ;
His office natural aye will it hold.

Up* perilon
well
ye may
since folk do

Here
that

properlybelongs

tillthat
life,

my

it die.

is not annexed
that gentility
to possessions,
like the fire always perform the duty
not
to them.
see

For God it wot, men

may full often find
lordfes son do shame and villainy.
,
And
he that will have praiseof his gent'ry

boren of a gentle house,

For he was
And had his elders noble and virtuous.
do no gentledeedfes,
And n'ill^himselven
that dead is.
Ne follow his gentleancestor
he
duke
be
is
He
not gentle,
or earl.
For villain's sinful deedfes make
a churl.

Gentilityis but the renown

goodness, and belongs not

of thine

ancestors

for their

high

cometb
Thy gentility
person.
cometh
the very gentleness of grace.
how
with our position.Think
us
noble,
to

thy

from God alone ; thence

It is not bequeathed to
Hostilius who
of
that TuUus
Valerius saith,was
out
rose
as
Read
Seneca, and read also Boethius ;
poverty to high rank.
it
there shall ye see
expressed,that,beyond doubt,
"

"

"

he

is gentlethat doth

Parentage.

Burn,

deeds.
sjentle
"

Ni w///" will not.

CANTERBURY

268

TALES.

therefore,dear husband, I conclude

And

ancestors

rude

were

Yet

To

And

me

although mine

(and so hope I)

highfeGod
to

grace

liven

virtuously;

gentlewhen that I begin

sin.
andwaiven
virtuously

liven

whereas

"

the

may

Granten
Then
am

thus

refuse

ye

for my

me

poverty,the High God,

on

believe,chose to lead his life in wilful poverty. And

that Jesus,
certes
maiden, or wife,may understand
every man,
the king of heaven, would not choose a vicious living.
honest thing, as Seneca
Glad
and
poverty is certainlyan
whom

we

other

learned

writers

tell us

is satisfied with

Whoso

:
"

his

poverty
I hold him

He
which

rich,all had

is a poor
that coveteth
is not within his power.

he not

shirt.

wight, for he

would

have

that

But he that nought hath, ne coveteth to have,

Is rich,althoughye hold him but a knave.*

True

poverty is

proper

sin,

Juvenal saith of povert'

merrily,
The poorfeman
when he go'thby the way,
Before the thieves he may
singand play.
Pov^rt* is hateful good ; and, as I guess,
A full great bringerout of business.

also

great amender

patience. Poverty
that

no

man

Pov^rt'
Makes

Pov^rt'

more

wisdom

full often,when
him his God, and
a

Through
And

of

man

is

it in
session
pos-

low,

eke himself to know

is,as thinketh me,
spectacle
friendfes see.
which he may his very'*

therefore,sir,since that
for my

him

that taketh
strange it seem, a

to

is this,however
will challenge.

grieve you

not, reprove

me

no

poverty.

for my
Certainly,sir,
age.
to be found in any book, ye gentlemen
were
though no authority
should reverence
old person,
of honour
an
and,
say that men
in your gentleness,call him father ; and
yet auUiors shall I
find,as I guess [toconfirm this].
old and foul,then dread ye not
Now, whereas
you say I am
husband
as
a
be
to
wronged
; for ugliness and
age be great
And

sir,ye reprove

now,

Servant

"

^poor

man.

me

Real,true.

WIFE

THE

B A TITS

OF

TALE,

269

what
chastity. But, nevertheless,since I know
Choose
now," quoth
delightsyou, I shall fulfilyour desires."
old tillthat
"one
these
foul
of
and
have
two
me
she,
things : to
I die,wardens

upon

"

And
And

be to you
never

humble

true

wife,

displeasein

all my
life ;
and
fair,
young

you

Or

ellfesye will have me

of the repair*
And
take your adventure
of
That shall be to your house, because

me

yourselfwhichever best pleasesyou." The

considers,and sighs deeply, but at last he said :
Choose

knight

now

"

*'

My lady and
I

love,and

my

wife

so

dear,

in your

wis6 governance
;
put
Chooseth yourselfwhich may be most pleasdnce
And
also ;
honour to you and me
most
I do no force* the whether of the two ;
For as you liketh,
it sufficeth me."
me

"Then

have

"

I may

Since

got the mastery,"quoth she,

choosen

and

govern

"

Yea, certes,wife,"quoth he,

"

Kiss

"

lest ?

me

as

I hold

"

"

it best."

"

me," quoth she,

be no longerwroth,
we
truth
I
be
will
to
you both ;
by my
This is to say, yea, bothfe fair and good.
For

wood *
I pray to God that I may
starven
But I be to you all so good and true,
wife since that the world was
As e'er was
And

I be to-morrow

but

fair to

as

new

seen

As any lady,empferess,or queen.

That is betwixt the east and eke the west.
Do by my life righteven
as
you lest.'
the

Past

up

And

when

curtains,and
the

knight

saw

looke

what

this is.**

verilyall this,

fair was, and so

thereto,
young
For joy he hent * her in his armfes two
:
His hearts bathfed in a bath of bliss.
she

That

thousand

so

times

everythingthat

he

might

kissed
add

to his

they lived in perfectjoy

thus
'

Resort,

'

I do not

And

her.

unto

she

obeyed

pleasure or his
their lives' end.

care.

"Caught.

please.

him

love.

Die

in
And

mad.

CANTERBURY

270

REMARKS

ON

THE

TALES,

WIFE

BATH'S

OF

TALE.

and

analogues of the tale of *The Knight

in Sanskrit,Turkish,
Loathly Lady are known
division of
Kaffir,Gaelic,and Icelandic,the Gawaine
in
the Arthur
and
Gower's
Tale
of
Florenl
cycle,
which
is no doubt from a French
{ConfessioAmantis^ book i.),
been
if it is now
that
has
known.
not
printed,even
original
yet
[ARIANTS
'

and

'

the

Sketches

of these will be found

and

in the

'

ginals
Society's* Ori-

Chaucer

Analogues.'*
(in his *Florent') and

Chaucer
thus again
Gower
have
worked
the
materials.
same
Here, too, Dryden has continued
upon
of translatinghis illustrious predecessor
the business
with about the same
of success
in the Knight's tale.
amount
as
illustration of a different nature
from
One
given in the
any
tale justmentioned
will suffice. The
humour
of the two poets
shall furnish our present parallel. No one
have read without
can
"

"

charmed
by the simple, unobtrusive, yet rich and
of the story of Midas from Ovid in Chaucer;
overflowinghumour
have
avoided
of pleasurable
no
one
can
something like a sense
in such a story, the poeticalpower
surprise to see how, even
raise
can
suddenly
everythingit touches,as in the lines

being

"

And

She

in the
as a bittern bumbleth
laid her mouth
the water
unto

mire,
down,

etc.

with Chaucer's we place Dryden's version

Well, here in contrast
of the same
and
readers they will be
we
can
assure
our
story ;
line by line,if
well repaid for the trouble of comparing them
still
have
doubt
the
later
the
that
to
a
as
they
injury
poet has
done the earlier by not merely enjoying the fame that properly
belongs to Chaucer, but by dimming the brightness of the
morning-star of our poetry by interposing between us and him
the veil of his own
intellect.
less spiritual
Chaucer's

Tale

of Midas

Ovid,"
said,Midas had unddr
Growing upon his head two

his longfehairs
ass's ears,

The which4 vice* he hid as he best might

Full subtlely
from every mannfes
sight,
That save
his wife there wist of it no mo' ;
He lov'd her most, and trusted her als6 ;
He

prayfedher

that to

no

creature

She should^ tellen of his dlsfigtire.

She swore
him nay, for all this world
She n'ouldfe do that villainyor sin,

^Pp, 482-524,

to

win,

'Blemish,

THE

WIFE

TALE,

BATirS

OF

To make
have so foul a name
:
her husband
shame.
She would not tell it for her owen
But nath^less her thoughts that she died
That she so long a counsel should^ hide ;
Her thought it swell so sore about her heart
That need^ly some
word her must
astart ;
And since she durst not tell it unto man,
Down
fastfeby she ran ;
to a marais
Till she came
there her hearts was
on
fire,
And as a bittern bumbleth
in the mire,
She laid her mouth
down :
the water
unto
"
Betray me not, thou water, with thy soun,"
Quoth she ; " to thee I tell it,and no mo',
My husband hath long ass's ear^s two :
Now
is my heart all healed,now
is it out ;
I

might no longer keep

Dryden'S

it out

Tale

of doubt."

of Midas,

who,

"

Phoebus was
with asses
endow'd
ears.
under his long locks he well concealed
(As monarchs' vices must not be reveal'd),
For fear the people have 'em in the wind,
Who
long aeo were neither dumb nor blind ;
Nor apt to think from Heaven
their title springs,
Since Jove and Mars left off begetting
kings :
This Midas knew ; and durst communicate
To none
but to his wife his ears
of state :
One must
and he thoughther fit,
be trusted,

By

Which

As

passingprudent,and a parlouswit.
this sagaciousconfessor he went,
And told her what a giftthe gods had sent.

To

But told it under matrimonijd

seal.
With strict injunction
to reveal.
never
The secret heard,she plighted
him her troth
(And sacred sure is every woman's oath).
The royalmalady should rest unknown,
Both for her husband's honour and her own.
But ne'ertheless she pined with discontent ;
The
The

till it found a vent.

counsel rumbled
knew she was
obligedto hide ;
By interest and by oath the wife was tied ;
But if she told it not, the woman
died.
Loth to betraya husband
and a prince.
But she must
burst or blab ; and no pretence
Of honour tied her tongue from self-defence.
A

thingshe

marshy ground commodiously

Thither she ran, and

was

near,

held her breath for fear,

Lest if a word she spoke of anything,
That word might be the secret of the king.

271

CANTERBURY

273

TALES.

full of counsel to the fen she went,

Grip'd all the way, and longing for a vent

Thus

Arrived,by

pure

compelled,
necessity

On her majestic
marrow-hones
she kneeled ;
the
brink
Then to
she laid her head,
water's
And as a bittern bumps within a reed,
"
To thee alone, O lake,"she said," I tell

(And

as

Beneath
A

thy queen,

goodly

thee

command

his locks the

King

to

conceal),

husband

my

royalpairof asses* ears

wears

Now
of the pain
have I eased my bosom
Till the next longingfitreturn again."

After this,one need not to be surprised

to find that the chief
character
of the Wife
is utterly ruined
in
of Bath's Tale
she
instant
hands.
Chaucer
is
for
never
an
Dryden's
forgets
only wearing a mask of age and uglinessin order to obtain an
of purifying
and elevating
the knight's
extraordinaryopportunity
character by teaching him
of beauty without
the hollowness
virtue,and of rank without desert. The poet is most
careftil,
what she is
between
to preserve a perfect harmony
therefore,
the
beneath the mask
and what
she shall appear to be when
aside ; namely, a beautiful,loving,pure, and
mask is thrown

loftyspirit Every word she speaks impressesus with a respect

her,graduallyrisinginto something like veneration. Of
pathos begs her
course, when the knightwith such humorous

for

"

Take

all my

goods and

let my

body

go,

what he does
she is deaf to his request, because
she knows
with
when
that the time will come
he will reciprocate
not"
him
towards
the
:
equal earnestness
feelingshe expresses
"

"

I n*ould for all the metal ne for the ore

That under earth is grave,^
or lieth above,
But if thy wife I were, and eke thy love.

ments
sentifor a moment
what would be Chaucer's
if,with his object in the tale his designas to the chief
character" he could live again justnow, and find a brother poet
motives as are conveyed
to the knight'sbride such
attributing
in the following
lines :
But

imagine

"

"

In vain he proffered
all his goods to save
His body, destin'd to that livine grave.
The licorish hag rejects
the pelf
with scorn,
And nothingbut the man
will serve
her turn.

The

combination

of

error

and
1

evil in these

Buried.

lines is

so

great

as

THE

almost

WIFE

B A TITS

OF

TALE.

273

It is undoing in a couplet
defy analysisor exposure.
which
Chaucer
do
to
sought
by the whole poem,
becomes
in the process purposeless,
absurd.
incoherent,prosaic,
The lady,for instance,has only to reveal herself in her true
band
husa cheerful
personal character before the court to ensure
at once, if that be her great object. Yet thus it is Dryden
understood
and translated the Wife of Bath's Tale,so charming
alike in its
of execution.
We
purpose, machinery, and mode
know
than
dramatic
and playful
the surprise
nothmg more
towards the close when we find how
the knight'slesson as to
what women
desire is brought home
most
to him by his teacher,
evident objects,has
who, while pursuing higher and more
obtained
that too ; thereby giving the finishing
touch to the
the superiorwisdom
story. Puzzled by the difl"culties which
of his aged-looking
bride has raised,the knight wisely consents
to let the same
wisdom
resolve them.
He says
to

all that

"

"

Then,

I put

me

in your

wisfe governance."

she,

says

"

have I got the mastery,

Since I may choose and govern as
"

"

Yea, certes,wife,"quoth he, "I

lest ? "^
hold it best."
me

whatever
be said on the different sides of that mighty
may
question matrimonial
sovereignty,we should certainlysay
that whenever
finds
he has got such a wife as the one
a man
here described,
do better than imitate the policyof
he cannot
the knight,her husband.

And

"

"

Please.

HERE

was

man

boldness
such

vices,

and

simony

contracts,

; but

libertines

insufficient

would

person

them

save

[to

he

Power

to

He

had

slier

find

were

of them

usury

severely to suffer.
Those,
caught.
too,
ruined

if

infliction

pecuniary

no

wills

of

most

shamefully

were

adultery,
also

sacraments,

the

they

any

might

have
a

boy
had

archfedeacon*s

of

them

to

have

was

none

his

spies,

who

live.

This
.

women

to

over

false

even

couple

be

For

taught

could

here^

jurisdiction

jurisdiction

ready to his hand,

in Engfeland.

offenders].
their
practises

no

book

correction.

sumpnour

sum{)nour
tell his ribaldry.

They

his

through

this

spare

for small

He

teach

vicious

made

if

in the

weren

secretly he

they

he

of

other

off'rfng
people piteously to sing ;
the bishop caught them
in his hook,

had

as

and

the

ere

And

though

neglect

tithfes and

smallfe

made

They

to

libertinism

of

with

"

For

two

rank,

deacon,
arch-

an

punished

who

For

avail

kinds

tithes

complain

He

For

all

country

my

witchcraft, defamation,
violation
churchwardens,

certainly sing

paid

who

high

by

and

should

They

of

as

misconduct

in

dwelling

once
a

great

TALE.

FRIAR'S

THE

as

mad

we

are

us,

nor

of

him

out

of

ever

their

shall

or

And

more.

hare,

might

libertine

spare
dozen

as

it

where

will

not

correction.
have

thief, this sumpnour,

had

as

long

always

"

ready to his hand

anv
hawk, to lure in Engfeland ;
That
told him
all the
that
secrets
they knew,
For
their acquaintance
of new.
not
was
come
As

They

were

their

means

there

Another
has

his
a

of

been

private
great
the

informers.

profit.

Canterbury

passing

smart

His

He
master

for

obtained
knew

not

himself

always

and
whom
Pilgrims, between
of jibes and
malice.

skirmish

the

by
what
Friar

THE

he

He

won.

FRIAR'S

would, without

TALE,

mandate,

275

summon

ignorant

an

on

man,

And

and

make

they were

pain of Christy's curse,

glad to fill6well his purse,

great feasts for him

at

the ale-house.

And rightas Judas hadd^ purses small

And was
a thief,
rightsuch a thief was he ;
had not half his duety.
His master

He

was,

a
give him fitting
praise,a thief,

to

and

sumpnour,

pander.
"

"

"

"

"

"

And so befell,
that onfes on a day
This sumpnour
evier waitingon his prey,
Rode forth to summon
a
widow, an old ribibe,^
Feigning a cause, for he would have a bribe.
And happened that he saw
before him ride
A gay yeoman unddr a forest side ;
A bow he bare,and arrows
brightand keen ;
had

He
A

upon,

of green,
courtepy"

hat upon his head with fringesblack.

"
Sir, quoth this sumpnour, " hail,and
**

Welcome,**quoth he,

"

and

well o'ertake !'*

good felUw ;

every

rid'st thou under this greenfeshaw ?" *

Whither
"
Wilt thou far to-day ?"
Said6 this yeoman,
This sumpnour
answered,and saidfe " Nay ;
Here fastfeby," (quothhe) ** is mine intent
To riden,for to raisen up a rent
That 'longeth
lordfes duSty."
to my
"

I art thou then a bailiff?" " Yea,"

He durstfe not for very filth and shame
Say that he was a sumpnour, for the name.

Ah

"

Depar Dieux^'quoth the yeoman,

and I am
another.
Thou
art a bailiflF,
*^

am

unknowen

as

quoth

he.

levfe brother,

in this country ;

Of thine acquaintanceI will prayen thee.

if it thee lest.*
And eke of brotherhood,
I havfe gold and silver in my chest;
If that thee happfecome
into our shire.
All shall be thme, rightas thou wilt desire."
"
Grand-mercy^^quoth this sumpnour, " by my

then
that
truth
Each

faith ! "

layeth his hand in that of the other as a pledge of his

brethren unto their death.
they will be sworn

A musical instrument ; remarkable

old and
inharmonious
^character when
called
dame
old
find the same
an
aged
" Wood.
" Short cloak.
*

probably,like

the
Farther

cracked.

rebeck,that is,an
*

Please.

for
fiddle,
on,

we

its
shall

old fiddle,

TALES.

CANTERBURY

276

In dalliancfeforth they ride and play.

which that was
This sumpnour,
as full of jangles,^
As full of venom
be^ these wariangles,'
And ever inquiringon every thing,
"
Brother,"quoth he, " where is now your dwelling,
Another day if that I should you seech ?"^
in softfe speech,
him answdr'd
This yeoman
"

"

Brother,"quoth he, far in the north country,

Where, as I hope, sometime I shall thee see.
""

well wiss,*
miss."
never
"
"
this
I you
Now, brother,"
quoth
sumpnour,
thit
riden
the
Teach me, while
we
by
way,

Ere

That

I shall
depart*

we

of

mme

(Since that

house

ye be

ne

thee

so

shalt thou

as
am
bailiflF,

pray,

I)

Some subtlety
faithfully.
; as tell me
In mine officShow that I may win ;
And sparfenot for conscience or for sin.
tell me
how do ye ?"
But, as my brother,
"
brother
mine," said he,'
Now, by mv truthfe,
"*
As I shall tellen thee a faithful tale,
and eke fiillsmale :
My wages be full strait,^
My lord to me is hard and dangerous,^
And mine office is full laborious.
And therefore by extortion I live ;
Forsooth I take all that men
will me
give.
violence
or
by
Always by sleightfe
From
year to year I winnfe my dispense:
I can no better tellen faithfully."
"
Now, certes (quoth this sumpnour), so fare I,
I spar^ not to taken,God it wot,
But if it be too heavy or too hot.
What
I may get in counsel privily
No mor^ conscience of that have I.

Were
I might not
it not for my
extortion,
confessor
shall
shrive
no
me
:
Stomach
I curse

every

one

nor

conscience

know

live.

none

Of

of these father confessors.

be we met, by God and by Saint Jame

tellfeme thy name,"
But, lev^*''brother,

"

and

tricks,

Well

such

" As
be.
Chattering.
the wariangleto be
Cotgrave explains
white of colour, and but half as big

small

wood-pecker,black

the ordinarygreen one.

it
however
Butcher-bird.
refer
the
to
to
Speght
supposes
*
* Seek.
^ The
Yeoman.
[Departfrom each other]. " Direct.
*
8 Narrow.
in the modern
Difficult to please,
and so, even

dangerous,as regards the

*o Dear.
displeasure.
sense,

as

consequences

that

ma^r flow

from

his

THE

FRIAR'S

TALE,

27^

In this meanfe while

Quoth this sumpnour.
This yeoman
*gan a littlefor to smile.
"
Brother,"quoth he, " wilt thou that I thee tell?
I am
a fiend ;
my dwellingis in hell ;
And

here I ride about my purchasing,^

To wot whe'r men
will give me
any thing.
My purchase is th' effect of all my rent.
intent
Look how thou ridest for the same
To winnen goods,thou reckest never
how :
I
fare
for
would
riden
now
I,
Right so
Unto the worldfes endfe for a prey."
"

Ah," quoth this

I ween'd^ ye were
Ye have a mannas

"

sumpnour,
yeoman

benedicite !

truely,

well as I :
then
determinate
ye figure
In helfe,
there ye be in your estate ?"
"
Nay, certainly,"
quoth he, " there have
But when us liketh we can take us one ;
Or ell"s make you seem' that we be shape
Some
tim^ like a man, or like an ape ;
Or like an angel can I ride or go."
Have

shape as

very wonderful thing,though it be

jugglercan deceive thee ;
It is

no

; since

so

none,

we

vagabond

craft than he."

Why," quoth this sumpnour, " ride ye then or gone
In sundry wise,and not alwAy in one ? '
"
For,"quoth he, " we will us in such formfe make,
for to take."
As most abr is our preyfe
"
What
makfeth you to have all this labour ?"
"

And

parfay,yet

can

more

"

Full many
lev6 Sir Sumpnour,"
a causfe,
Said^ this fiend. " But all thing hath a time ;
and it is passfed
The day is short,
prime.
in
this
I
And
ne
won
day.
nothinp^
yet
I will intend to winning if I may.
And not intend our thingfes
to declare.
all too bare
is
brother
wit
mine, thy
For,
To understand,although I told them thee.
"

But for thou askM

why labouren we ;
time we be Goddfes instruments,
For some
And
mean^s
to do his command^ments,
his creatures,
that him list,
When
upon
in
diverse
In divers acts and
figures:
Withouten
him we have no might certain,
If that him list^standen there again.*
And sometime,at our praygr,have we leave.
Only the body and not the soulfe grieve;
did full woe.
Witness on Jobfe,*
whom
we
"

*
*

Seeking,cadging.
There-against.

*
*

Believed.

Job.

"

Believe.

And

TALES,

CANTERBURY

278
sometime

sometime

have

Upon
And
When
It is

man,
not his

both the soul and body, and

seek for [unguarded points]

might

suffered

are

we

we

to

on

do his soul unrest

body, and all is for the best.

and

he withstandeth our temptation

of his salvation,
cause

intent
not our
Albeit so it was
would him hent.'
that
but
be
we
should
He
safe,
be
time
unto
servant
And some
we
man.
As to the arch^bishopSaint Dunstdn,
eke ^ was
I."
servant
And to the apostolis,
"

quoth this sumphour,

newfe bodies thus alwdy

Yet tell me,"

"

faithfully,

Make
ye you
"
Of elements ?" The fiend answered
Nay.
and
time we rise
time we
some
Some
feignd,
deadfe bodies,in full wondrous
With
wise.
and well.
And
speak as reas6nably,and fair,
As to the Pythoness did Samufel ;

"

And yet will some

men
saj it was not he :
force*
of your divmity.
I do no
I thee ; I will not jape ;*
But one thing warn
weet^ how we be shape :
wilt algatfes*
Thou
shalt hereafterward,
Thou
my brother dear.
where thee needeth nothingfor to lere ; ^
Come
For thou shalt,
by thine own experience.
Con, in a chair red,of this sentence
Betpter]than Virgil,while he was on live ;
let us riden blive,**
Or bant'also. Now
with thee
For I will holden company
Till it be so that thou forsakfe me."
"
"
that shall nought
Nay," quoth this sumpnour,
knowen
is full wide ;
I am
a yeoman,
in this case
I
will
truthfe
as
hold,
My
;
For though thou be the devil Sathanas,
My truthfe will I hold to thee,my brother,
As I have sworn, and each of us to other,
For to be true brethren in this case,
For both we go abouten our purchase.
Take thou thy part, and that men
will thee give.
I shall mine, thus may
And
both^ live ;
we
And
if any of us have more
than other.
Let him be true,and part it with his brother."
"

And

And

as

sumpnour
"

"

grantfe,"
quoth the devil, by my fay."
with that word, they riden forth their way.
the end of the town, towards
directed their course,

they entered
had

Ctitch,seize.

"Always.

betide,

which

the

"

Also.

*Know.

"

Take

no

'Learn.

heed.

Play t;icks.

"Quickly.

The

They

FRIAR'S
that

TALE.

279

with hay,
that a carter! drove iforth in his way.
Deep was the way, for which the cartfe stood ;
The carter smote, and cried as he were
wood.*
"
Heit Brok ! heit Scot I what, spare ye foritne stones
The fiend (quoth he) you fetch,
body and bones ;
saw

cart

charged was

Which

much
that ye
so

trouble have
foaled :
were

I had

with

the

very time

"

The devil have

This sumpnour
And

the

near

Full

all,both cart,and horse,and hay 1"

said^, Here shall we see play ;
fiend he drew, as nought ne were, ^

thou

and
privily,

what

not

"

"

Hearkl,
my

"

Hearest

from

even

you

roun^d'' in his

ear

"

brother,heark^,by thy faith

says ?

the carter

it anon,

for he hath riven it thee,

hay
caples*and eke his cart pardd."
"
Nay," quoth the devil," God wot never a del ; ^
It is not his intentfe,
trust thou well :
if thou not trowest' me.
Ask him thyself,
Or ell^s stint a while and thou shalt see."
his horse upon the coup.
This carter thwacketh
Hent*
Both

and

they began to drawen and to stoop.

Heit now," quoth he, There 1 Jesu Christ you bless,
and less !
And all his handy work both more
Liard' bov,
That was
well twight,^my owen
I pray God save
:
thy body, and Saint Loy*^
is my cart out of the slough pardie."
Now
Lo, brother,"quoth the fiend, what told I thee ?
Here may y% see, mine owen
dearfe brother.
The carter spake one thing,and thought another.
And

"

"

"

"

Let

us

Here

go

win

forth abouten
I

our

they had gone a littleway

began to whisper to his brother

When

"

That had
As for to

as

out

of the town, the

Sumpnour

:
"

here wonneth
lief to lose her neck

Brother,"quoth he,
almost

voydge

carriage."

nothing upon

old

an

rebeck,"

**

penny of her good ;

I will have twelve pence though that she go
her to our
Or I will summon
office ;
I
And
know
of
her
God
vice ;
no
vet,
wot,

give a

wood,^'

But for thou canst not as in this country

Winnen
thy cost,take here example of me."
This sumpnour
clapped at the widow's gate ;
"
he
Come
out,"
said," thou oldfe very trate ; ^*
I trow thou hast some
frere or priestwith thee."
'
*

""

Mad.

Cattle.

Eloy.

"

Nothing

of

importance.

'

^
Never a bit.
Believest.
Fiddle. See ante, page 375.
1* Trot.

Whispered.
^
^

Pulled.

Goods.

""

Seize.

"

Grey.

"

Mad.

480

"

Who

God

Canterbury

tales,

clappeth?"

said this widow

save

"

you,

sir,what

is your
"

have,"quoth he, a
Up* pain of cursing,look^
I

answer
"

"

of

summons

that thou

Now,"

bill :

be

before our archfcdeacon's knee,

of certain things."
to the court
"
quoth she, Jesu Christ,and King of

To-morrow
To

; Benedkite
sweetfe will ?"

So wiselyhelp6 me, as I ne may

I have been sick,and that full many
a day
far
ride
I
(quoth she) nor
may not go so
But I be dead, so prick'thit in my side.
Sir Sumpnour,
May I not ask a libel.

kings,

'?"

And answer
To suchfe
"

there

by

thingas

men

proctirator-

my

will 6ppose

?"

me

let seethis sumpnour,

pay anon
to me, and I thee will acquit:
"

Yes," quoth

Twelve

pence

"

profithave therebybut lit*;

and not I.
My master hath the profit,
Come
off,and let me riden hastily
;

I shall

no

Give me
my twelve pence, I may no longertarry."
"
"
Twelve
now
Lady Samtfe Mary,
pence !" quoth she ;
of care and sin.
So wiselyhelp me
out
This wicfeworld though that I should^ win,
I not twelve pence within my hold ;
well that I am
poor and old ;

Ne

have

Ye

knowen

"
Nay, then,*
me, poor wretch/'
"
thee,though thou
quoth he, the foul fiend fetch me if I excuse
shouldest be ruined.'*

show

then

your

"
"

As
For

when

Ne

"

quoth she, God wot, I have

me,"
quoth he, or by the sweet
Pay
I will bear
away thy newfe pan
thou owest
of old,
which
me
debtfe,
"

home

Thou

ere

never

unto

was

guilt."

Saint

now,

widow

court

your
but of my

salvation ;

my
or

wife.

in all my

body

life ;

true.

devil,rough and black of hue,

thy body and the pan also."

the

Give I
And when
the devil heard her cursen
so
Upon her knees,he said in this mann^re,
"
Now
mine owen
mother dear,
Mabily,
Is this your will in earnest
that ye say ?"
"
The devil,"quoth she, " fetch him ere he

'Cannot,

Anne,

thycorrection."
"

was

for

no

thy husband, and

liest,"
quoth she, by

Summoned
Ne never
Unto

false to

wert

paidat
"

"

Alas !"

that thou
I

charityupon

"

Proctor.

'Little,

dey,*
*Die,

FRtAR'S

THE
And

and

TALR.

281

all,but

he will him repent."

old^ stot,that is not mine intent,"

pan

"

Nay,
for to repenten me
Quoth this sumpnour,
For any thing that I have had of thee :
I would I had thy smock, and every cloth."
Now
brother,"quoth the devil, be not
Thy body and this pan are mine by right:
Thou
shalt with me
to hellfe yet*to-night,
Where
thou shalt knowen
of our privity
than a master
of divinity."
More
"

"

"

And

with that word

and

took

him

to

the foul fiend seized

the

place where

these

wroth

him, body and

have

sumpnours

soul,
their

inheritance. And God, that made mankind

after his own
image,
incline
and
and
this
and
save
all,
guide us one
sumpnour* a

good

REMARKS
the

} ERHAPS

the

THE

ON

modem

to become.

man

FRIAR'S

feature

remarkable

most

air that

TALE.

pervades

of

this tale is
throughout the style

thought, humour, and language. Put aside the

of the sumpnour's character and office,
and
peculiarity
few of the words and pronunciations that bear the impress of
of

and
antiquity,

we

might

suppose

the whole

written

but yesterday.

collection
is, perhaps, no other tale in Chaucer's
requires so little to be altered or explained, in order to
There

which

adapt it to readers

of the present time.

have spoken of the peculiarityof the character and office
We
of the sumpnour
; and it might be supposed that the choice of
in the fourteenth century, when
be was
such a character
every
fro
his
and
where
to
seen
rascallybusiness, must
moving
upon
at

tale for our

enjoyment in the
it is not so.
think
the tale is only
Nay, we
interestingfrom the novelty that such an actor gives
of this unfading interest is no doubt to be
But the secret

least

partiallyunfit the

nineteenth.
the more
to it.

But

"

life" that poets, like Chaucer, put into

which arises from
thing,and in that mode of treatment
every
of their intellectual vision,and which
the unlimited compass
them
into the universal.
to be ever
raisingthe particular
causes
Chaucer's
it
is
the
not
Tale,
nor
Thus, on reading
sumpnour,
he was
the instrument
the ecclesiastical abuses of which
and

found

in the

examplar,
1

of
spirit

that
Even,

we

think
*

The

of,

so

much

as

the

pilgrimbefore mentioned.

cheaty the

TaIMS,

CANTERBURY

282

impudent, amusing, utterly unprincipled cheat.

him

know

we

well

enough

finding but
class,who, in

the

nothing escape

them

too

us"

that

who

nor

quiet humour
delicious.
perfectly
the

"

as

This
"

surely
other

or

and

him

of
his

rapacity,let

of their

seize,unless

can

heavy,or

hot,

too

say with the sumpnour,

know

conscience

yeoman's (orfiend's)
answer

the sumpnour,

to where

yeoman

him

he

none.

to the

questionput by

lives.

answer'd
"

Brother,"quoth he,

the further information

tells the

depth

And

one

"

that prevails throughout this tale is

We
refer to three examples out of a
may

The

host

they

might each of them

Stomach

every

reasons

many

unfathomable

it be too

and

day
for knowing

are

we

given

in sofie
speech^
far in the north countrj^
;
"

littleafterwards,when

the fiend

sumpnour
Thou
shalt here afterward,
m^ brother dear,
Come
where thou needest nothing for to lere ;
For thou shalt by thine own
experience.
Con in a chair red of this sentence.
Better than Virgilwhile he was
on
live,
Or Dant' also."
"

when
And, lastly,the conclusion,
victim

in the midst
"

Thou
Where
More

of all his roguery

he informs
the entrapped
and self confidence,

shalt with me
to hellfe yet to-night.
thou shalt knowen
of our
privity

than

master

ofdivinity:
"

of satire that must

have
told with irresistible effect upon
theologiansof the day, whose professed knowledge of these
and
similiar subjectswas
still is)
(and with their successors
in a ludicrously
inverse ratio to the materials
them.
afTorded

touch

the

The

only originals"or

Chaucer's

Friar's Tale
reprinted in the Chaucer
pp. 105-6.
Dr. Furnivall's

rather

'

are

two

dnaloguea" yet
short medieval

Latin

Society's Originals and

of
stories

known

Analogues,'

side-notes to them
follow:
are
as
hard
to the poor, is met
who
seneschal,
by another man
asks
him
his business.
the
"Grinding
justly or
poor,
unjustly.""What's yours ?" "Taking anything that's curst, and
the devil."
to
A
given
his calf for not
man
curses
poor
to
but
going
with his heart, so the fiend
not
market,
straight
can't take it.
But
when
some
the seneschal
poor folk curse
with all their hearts, the fiend carries him
off.
I.

"

THE

2.

form

FRIAR'S

graspinglawyer, out
of

and

to

couldn't

TALE,

gather
get

prey,

quitof

283
met

the devil in the

him.

poor man,
he didn't
Devil take you !
as
heart,the devil couldn't take the pig ; nor could
he a child,
itsbrother said," Devil take you 1" When,
to which
the lawyer coming, they all cried
townsmen
saw
however, some
"
May the devil take you ! '' And as they said it from the
out,
a

man,

with his
angry
say it from his

bottom
man

pig,said,

of their

bore

"

'*

But

hearts, the devil carried the lawyer off,as

witness.

his

KVW-:

^5'^'t!

CLEEK'S

THE
HERE

is at the west

endfe of

at the root

Down

TALE.
ItaUle,!
the cold,

of Vesulus*

of victaflle ;
lustyplainabundant
and
Where
thou may'st behold,
town
tower
a
many
in time of fathers old,
That founded were
another delectable sight,
And many

"

And

Saluces

this noble

land, as his worthy father

and
had been
ever
ready to perform his
all his subjectsfrom
commands
were
high to low. Thus in
delighthe lives,and hath done, for a long time, beloved and
dreaded, through the favour of fortune,both by his lords and
To speak of lineage also,he was
his commons.
the gentlest
He had a fair person, he was
of Lombardy.
bom
strong, and
A

marquis

was

lord

country hight.'

once

of that

Obedient

before him.

and
in years : full of honour
courtesy, and posses sed
young
his
In some
discretion enough to guide
ever,
things,howcountry.
his name) was
this young
lord Walter (for that was
to be

reprehended.
I blame

him

thus, that he considered

nought
coming what might him betide,
all his thought,
his lust present*was

In timfe

But

on

for to hawk
and hunt on every side.
carfes let he slide.
all
other
nigh
n'ouldfe
eke he
(thatwas worst of all)

And

Well
And

Wedden

wife for

no

nought that might befall.

On that point,and that only, his people felt so sorelyaggrieved

in a crowd; and one
of
that on a certain day they went
to him
that was
them, either the wisest of their number, or the one
most

likelyto be acceptableto the lord,spake thus

"

Assureth
That

as
we

us, and

time is of
to you

giveth us hardiness,
necessity.
tell

may

our

of your
Accepteth,lord,now
That we with piteousheart unto
let your

And

Italy.

"

O noble marquis I your humanity

As oft

"

"

earfes not

Vesuvius.

"

my

Was

heaviness

gentleness.

you 'plain,
voice disdam.

called.

Present

pleasure.

THE
And

have

More
Yet for

And

another

much

as

as

TALE.

to do

nought

than

Have
I dare
Of

CLERK'S

in this mattdre

lord

ye, my

so

his

of you

place,

dear,

favoiir and

me

the better ask

in

hath

man

always showed

285

grace,

space

audience,to showen our request,

ye, my lord,to do right as you lest.*

For

certes,lord,so well

And

all your
coulden
not

Ne

work,

liketh you

us

and

e'er have

ourselves

done, that

we

how

devisen

in felicity.
We
mights live more
Save one
thing,lord,if it your willfe be.
That for to be a wedded
man
you lest.*
Then
in
were
sovereignheartfes
your people

rest.

Boweth

your neck und^r that blissful yoke

Of sovereignty, and not of service,
Which
that men
clepen*spousalor wedl6ck :
And thinketh,lord,among
wise.
your thoughtfes
How
that our day^spass in sundry wise ;
For though we sleep,or wake, or roam, or ride,

time, it will

Aye

fleets the

And

though your greenfeyouths flower

In

creepethage alway

abide.

man

no

stillas

as

yit,"

as

stone.

And

death rnendceth every age, and smit*

In each estate, for there escapethnone
;
And
as
certain,as we know
every one
That we shall die,as t^certain we all
Be

of that

day, that

death

shall

on

us

fall.

refused
to
never
Accept then the true intent of those who
We
will,with your consent, choose
perform your commands.
short
time
in
wife
as
a
as
possible,born of the gentlest
you a
and best of the land ; so that, as far as we
can
judge, the
both
honour
God
and
to
an
to you.
marriage ought to appear
of all this busy drede,
for hiehfe Goddfes sake ;
wife
And take a
God
For if it so befell,
as
forbid,

Deliver

through your

That
And

out

us

that

Wherefore

meek

we

prayer,

"

Please.

"

me

Call.

pray

and

pity. "Ye

marquis with
people, constrain

death

your lineageshould
should take

slake,*

strangfesuccessor

heritage,O

Your

Their

to

"

woe

you

were

us

live !
wive."

on

hastilyto

their

pitiableaspect,
will,''
quoth he, "mine
that

Yet.

have

own

thought

never

^Smiteth.

touched

"

Slacken"

the
dear
of. I

cease.

286

CANTERBURY

rejoicedin

liberty(which is seldom found in marriage),and

I was
free,I must enter into servitude.

my

whereas

now,

But

TALES.

nathfeless I

And

trust

Wherefore

see

upon
of my

To wedden
But there

me,
as

your

your

true intent,
wit,and have done

aye ;

free will I will assent

as

soon

ye have

I may

ever

as

to-day

profferedme

To choosen me
a
wife,I will release
That choice,and pray you of that proffercease.
it wot, that children often been
worthy elders them before :
all
of God, nought of the strene
comes
Bounty
Of which theybeen engendered and ybore :
I trust in Goddfes bounty, and therefore
My marriage, and mine estate,and rest,
For

God,

their

Unlike

I him

betake

; he may

alone in

Let me
That

do

him

as

lest.^

my wife ;
back I will endure

choosingof

charge upon my
:
But I you pray, and charge upon your life.
That what wife that I take,ye me
assure
To worship,while that h^r life may endure,
In word
As she

work, both here and ever3rwhere.

emperor^s daughter were.

and
an

And

farthermore this shall ye swear, that ye.

ne
Against my choice shall n ever ^grutch*
strive;
For since I shall forego my liberty
At

And,

ye will

but

all their

wished.

Not

one

mine

as

I pray you

With

I thrive,
ever
may
heart is set,there will I wive.

request, as

your

There

assent

speak no

in such

more

mann^re,

of this matt^re."

they assented
wight said "nay."

hearts

and

But, ere

besought him of his grace that he would

day for his marriage,as soon as he could

to

swore

what

he

they went, they

grant them

certain

For yet alway the people somewhat

dread
Lest that the marquis wouldfe no wife wed.

He
granted them therefore a day, such as pleased him, on
which he would be certainlywedded, saying,he did all this at
hearts they thanked
and obedient
their request. With
humble
him
plished,
fervently,kneeling, and thus their purpose being accomtheir
home
take
again.
they
way
*

Strain,race.

"

It

pleases.

"

Murmur

"

be discontented.

THE

And

CLERK'S

287

TALE.

he to his officers
for the feasts to purvey,
And to his privy knightfes
and squidrs
Such chargfegave as he list on them lay,
And they to his commandfement
obey ;
And each of them doth [all]
his diligence
To do unto the feast all reverence.

hereupon

Commandeth

THE

SECOND

PART.

that place of honour

far from
Not
in which
the marquis
determined
his
stood
there
a
delightful
marriage,
village,
upon
the eye, in which
to
the poor folk of the neighbourhood had
their feast and
their lodging,and of their labour
took their
sustenance, after that the earth had given them plenty.
this pourfefolk there dwelt a man
that was
holden poorest of them
But highfeGod sometimfe senden can
His grace unto
a littleox's stall.

Amon^

Which

all;

of that thorpe^him call.

had
daup^hter he, fair enoughto sight,
And Grisildis this youngfemaiden
hight.^

Janicola,men

But

if we

Speak of her virtuous beauty,

Then
she
the fairest under sun.
was
one
Full poorfely
yfosterdup was she ;
"

No licorous lust was

in her body run
:
Well oft'ner of the well than of the tun
She drank ; and for she wouldfe virtue please,
She knew
well labour,but no idle ease.
But

though this

of age,
maiden
tender were
in the breast of her virginity
enclosed ripe and sad courdge;3
was
And in great reverence
and charity,
Her old6 poorfefather foster'd she :

Yet
There

A few sheep,spinning,^
the field she
on
She would6 not be idle tillshe slept.

kept ;

And

when she homeward

brin^^
came, she wouldd
Wortfes and other herb"s timfes oft,
The which she shred and seeth'd for her Hvf ng ;
And made her bed full hard and nothingsoft,

and

stillshe

kept up

With
That
1
"

every

the lifeof her

6beisance and diligence

do to father's reverence.

child may

Village.
A

father,

steadfast and

mature

spirit.

Was called.
For to spintheir wool.

TALES,

CANTERBURY

288

this poor
creature, Grisilde,the marquis has often
it so happened that
fixed his eye, whilst hunting, and when
but
look of folly,
he saw
her,he gazed not with the wanton
her
himself
with
would
in an earnest
commune
manner
upon
her womanly
For
in his heart he commended
behaviour.
she surpassed others
and also her virtue,in which
qualities,

Upon

of

so

an

young

age,
well in cheer

as

For

though

as

deed.

people have no great insightinto virtue,

that he
rightlyher goodness, and determined

the

he considered
would wed her

only,ifhe

ever

should

wed.

The day of wedding came, but no wight can

that it should^ be,
Tellen what woman
a
For which marvaillfe wond'red many
man,
in privity,
when they were
And saiden,
"
Will not our lord yet leave his vanity?
Will he not wed ? Alas ! Alas the while !

Why

will he thus himself and

Nevertheless,the marquis caused

gemmfes
Broaches

and

us

to be

beguile?

**

made,

gold and in aziire,

ring^s,for Grisilda'ssake

set in

from a maiden
whose
took the measure
he also prepared all other
and
like her own;
stature
was
for such a wedding.
suitable
be
that
should
ornaments
The
time approached, nine of the clock, when the wedding
should take place. All the palace was
put in array, both h^ls
of office were
houses
and chambers, each in its degree. The
stuffed with plenty.Thou
mightest see there all kinds of
daintyprovisionthat may be found within the limits of Italy.
The royal marquis, richly arrayed, with the lords and ladies
also the
bidden
to the feast,and
in his company
that were
of various melody,
a sound
knights of his retinue,with many
I
told
which
of
into
the village
takes his way
you.

and

of her

clothinghe

"

"

Grisilde of this (God wot) full innocent

That for her shapen was all this array,
To fetchen water at a well is went.
she may
home
And cometh
as ever
as soon
;
For well she had heard say that ilkl day
The marquis should^ wed, and if she might,
of that sight.
She would have se"n somewhat
She said," I will with other maidens
stond.
in our door, and see
That be my fellows,

THE

CLERK'S

TALE.

289

The marchioness,and therefore will I fond *

it may
To do at home, as soon
as
be,
The labour which that 'longethunto me ;
And then I ma)^ at leisure her behold,
If she this way
into the castle hold."
And

she would

as

The

the threshold gone *

and *gan her for to call ;

ov^r

marquis came,

And she set down her water-pot anon

Beside the threshold of this ox's stall ;
And
down upon her knees she 'gan to fall,
And
with sad countenance
kneeleth still.
Till she had heard what was
the lord^s will.
This thoughtful
marquij spake unto this maid
Full soberly,
and said in this mann^re
;
"
Where
is your father,
Grisildis ? " he said,
And she with reverence
and humble
cheer
"
Answered
Lord, he is all readyhere."
;

And

without

to the

further

delay she goeth

in and

fetches her

father

marquis.
the hand then taketh this old man,
saide thus,when he him had aside ;
I neither may nor can
Janicola,
Longer the pleasureof mine hearts hide :
If that ye vouchfesafe,
what so betide,

He

by

And

"

Thy daughter will

As for my

wife unto

take,ere

that I

wend.

her livfesend.

Thou lovest me, I wot it well,certain.

And art my faithfulliegfeman
ybore.
And all that liketh me, I dare well sain,'
It liketh thee, and 'specially
therefore
Tell me that pointas ye have heard before.
If that thou wilt unto that purpose
draw.
To taken me as for thy son-in-law ? "

that he waxed
This sudden
astonished the man
so
case
red,
and quaking : he could hardly speak. But
and stood abashed
he said,^' Lord, my will is as ye will,nor
against your liking
I
determine
aught ;
may
lord so dear ;
ye be mine
e
ovdmeth
this matt^re."
Right as you list,
"
this
Yet will I," quoui
marquis softMy,
"
That in thy chamber, I,and thou,and she,
Have a collation*;
and wott'st thou why ?
For I will ask if that it her will be
To be my wife,and rule her after me ?

"Try.

*Go.

Say,

Conference,talk.

CANTERBURY

290

TALES.

all this shall be done in thy presence ;

I will nought speak out of thine audience."

And

about
the treaty, the
chamber, while they were
wondered
into
the
house
and
to see
without,
peoplecame
and
attentive a manner
she kept her dear
how
honest
m
father : but beyond all bounds
might Griselda wonder, for she
such a sight. Well she might be astonished
before saw
never
in the

And

to see

so

great

guest

to such

accustomed

For which

But

to
shortly,

in that

come

place:

she had

never

been

guests ;
"

she looked

follow

with full palfe

face

quicklymy

subject,

These are the wordfes that the marquis said

To this benignfe,
very,*faithful maid.
"

"

ye shall well understand

It liketh to your father and to me
That I you wed ; and eke it may so stand ;
As I suppose, ye will that it so be :
But these demundfes ask I first(quoth he)
That since it shall be done in hastywise
Will ye assent, or ellfesyou avise ? *
he said,
Grisild,"

I say this,
be ye readywith good heart
' and
that I freely
To all my lust,
may,
best list^,
do you laugh or smart,
As me
And never
night nor day,
ye to grutchit,*
And eke when I say Yea, ye say not Nay,
Neither by word nor frowningcountenance
?
and here I swear
alliance."
Swear this,
our
this word, quaking for dread,.
"
saidd
She
Lord, undigne and i^nworthy
;
Am
I to thilke hon6ur that ye me
bid,
But as ye will yourself,
rightso will I :
And
here I swear
that never
wtttingly
^
In VHfrk nor thoughtI will you disobey
loth to dey."^
For to be dead,*though me
were

Wonderingupon

This is enough, Grisilda mine," quoth he.

And forth go'th he with a full sober cheer
Out at the door,and after that came
she ;
And to the people he said in this inanndre ;
"
This is my wife,"quoth he, " that standeth here ;
Honoureth
her,and loveth her,I pray,
loveth
Whoso
to say."
me
; there is no more
"

"

Truthful,

"

Or, in

'

Pleasure,

Murmur,

other words, take time to consider.

" Even
6 Die,
for death.

CLERK^S

"JHR

TAlEk

291

And for that nothing of her old^ gear

She should^ bring into his house,he bade
That women
should despoilenher rightthere ;
Of which these ladies weren
not full glad
To handle her clothfes,
wherein she was
clad.
But nath^less,
this maiden, bright of hue,
From foot to head they clothfed have all new.
Her hairfeshave they comb'd,that lay untress'd
and with their fingers
small
Full rudfely,
her
head
have
A-Corowne
on
ydress'd
they

all with jewels. But of her array why

and decorated her over
should I make
a tale ?
Hardly the people knew her for her
in such rich guise. The
she
transformed
when
was
beauty
marquis espoused her with a ringthat he had brought for the
purpose, and then set her

Upon
and

horse

white,and

snow

well

longerdelayconveyed her
peoplethat led,or met her. And
joyful
in

without

revel^until the

sun

began
this newfe

to

descend.

ambling;

to his palace,amidst
then the day is spent
And to

marchioness,

God hath such favour sent her of his grace,

That it ne seemed not by likeliness
That she was bom and fed in rudeness,
As in a cot or in an ox's stall,
But

nourished

in

an

emper6rUhall.

she waxes
To every one
so dear,and
so
deserving of worship,
she was
who
had known
and
that the people where
her
bom,
from her birth,year by year, hardly believed
though they
it,that she was Janicola'sdaughter. They
might have sworn
be another
creature.
thought, in their conjectures,she must
in such
she increased
For though she had been
ever
virtuous,
set in high goodness,she was
excellence of manner,
"

So discreet and fair of eloquence.

So benigne,and so digne'of reverence,
And couldfe so the people'sheart embrace,
That each her loveth that looketh in her face.
Not only of Saluces,
in the town.
the bounty of her
Published was
name,
But eke beside in many a regpioun;
If one said well,another said the same.
of her high bounty the fame,
So spreadeth
and women,
That men
as well young
as old,
Go to Saluce upon her to behold.

Worthy.

TALE$.

CANTERBURY

292

Walter, lowly,nay but royallyalso,having wedded with

:
fortunate honesty, liveth in God's
peace, in ease, at home
had
he
inasmuch
and
full
of
as
outwardly he appeared
grace,
hid,the
perceived how under low degree honest virtue was
such
are
and
men
him
looked
:
as
a prudent man
people
upon
Thus

but seldom

seen.

Not only this Grisildis through her wit

Could* all the feats of wifelyhomeliness,
But eke when that the case requiredit,
couldfe she redress ;
The common
profit
There n' as discord,
rancbur, nor heaviness,
In all that land that she ne could appease,
And wiselybring them allin rest and ease.

Though that her husband absent were anon.

If gentlemen or other of her country
Were wroth,she would^ bringenthem at one.*
wordfes haddfe she.
So wise and ripfe
And
judgement of so great equity,
That

she from

Peopleto

heaven

save, and

sent

was,

every wrong

as

men

wend

'

to mend.

wedded
she bore a daughter.
Not long after Grisildis was
had
birth
child ;
to a male
All persons had rather she
given
but the marquis and his peoplewere
glad thereof; and
maiden child come
all before,
knavfe*
child
attain
She may
unto
a
since she is not barren.
By likelihood,

Though

THE

THIRD

PART.

happened that when this child had

time, the marquis so longed in his heart
It

sucked

but a
little
to tempt his wife, in
her steadfastness,
that he could not throw this
order to know
desire to test her out of his heart.
marvellous
He thought to
her
needlesslyenough, God knows ! He had essayed
affright
her enough before,and found her ever
good. What need then
continue tempting her more
to
and more.
to tempt her, and
for
it
subtle
I
for
a
that
some
men
Though
praise
wit, say
me
it is an evil to test a wife unnecessarily,
and put her in anguish
and in dread.
The
"

^Knew,

Into

harmony,

"

Ween 'd" believed,

*Male.

*IHE

TALE,

CLERICS

203

:
Marquis wrought in this mannere
He came
alone a-night,there as she lay,
With sternfe face and with full troubled cheer,
And
saidfe thus," Grisild','*
quoth he, "that day
That I you took out of your poor array,
And put you in estate of high nobl^ss.
Ye have not that forgotten,
as I guess
;

I say,

this present dignity,

Grisild',

In which

I have

that

put you as I trow,

for to be.
Maketh
you not forgetful
That I you took in poor estate full low,
For any weal ye must
yourselvenknow.
Take heed of every word that I you say,
There
Ye

is

wot

no

wight

that hear'th it but

yourselfhow that ye comen

this house, it is not long ago

Into
And though to

we

tway.

here
;

that ye be lieH and dear,

Unto my gentlesye be nothincr so ;
and woe
sname
They say, to them it is g^reat
and be in service
For to be subject,
To thee,that bom
art of a small vilUge.

And

me

namely,^since

These

word^

have

thy daughterwas ybore,

theyspoken doubt^less ;

I have done before,

I desire,
as
To live my life with them in rest and
I may not in this case be reck^less :

But

peace

I must
do with thy daughterfor the best,
Not as I would, but as my people lest."
And

yet, God

wot, this is full loth

to me

nathfeless withouten
your weetlng*
Will I nought do j but this would I,*'
quoth he,
"
in this thing ;
That ye to me
assent
as
Show
now
your patience in your working.
and swore, in your village
That ve me hight,*
But

The

day that

maked

was

our

marriage.'*

she had heard all this,she,not amev^d,"

Neither in word, in cheer,or countenance,
(For as it seemfed she was nought aggrieved)
"
She saidfe,
Lord, all li'th in your pleasance;
My child and I with heartlyobeisance
When

and ye may save

Be yourfesall,
or spill'
aft^r
worketh
:
Your owen
thing
your will.

'

p!casant.
Agreeable,

Promised.

Especially.
Moved.

'Please.
'

Destroy.

Knowledge.

CANTERB

294

VR

TALES.

There

may no thing,so God my soulfesave,

Liken to you*that may displeasen
me
;
Ne I desir^ nothingfor to have,
Ne dreadfe for to lose,save
only ye :
This will is in mine heart,and aye shall be ;
No length of time or death may this deface,
Nor change my courdge^to other place."

Gliad

was

were

not

the

of her answer,

marquis

though he feignedas

he

so.

All

drearywas

his

cheer,and

his

looking

he left the chamber.

Soon after,going away
to the distance of a
furlongor two,
he privately
tells his intent to a man, and sends him to his wife.
This
kind of sergeant whom
he had often found
man
was
a
faithful in importantthings,
and such people can well execute
is
intrusted
what
in bad things: the marquis well
to them
knew that he loved and dreaded
And
the sergeant
him.
when
with
his
was
acquainted
as

lordfes will.
he stalkfed him full still.

Into the chamber

**

Madame,"

Though
Ye be

so

That

They
But
And

men
so

he

I do

"

said, ye must
thing to which

forgiveit me.
I

constrained,

am

wise,that

full well knowen

ye
lordfeshestfes may not be yfeignfed.
well be bewailfed or complained;
may
neede to their lust" obey.
must
will I ; there is no more
to say.

This child I am
And spake no

for to take."
the child he hent
more,
and 'gan a cheer ^ to make.
Dispiteously,
As though he would have slain it ere he went.
Grisildis must
all suffer,
and all consent,
And as a lamb she sitteth meek and still.
And let this cruel sergeant do his will.

Suspiciouswas
also
suspicious

the
his

commanded

but

reputationof
words,

and

Alas,her daughterthat
she believed
she neither

he

out

would

this man,
the time.
she lov^d

so

suspicioushis face,
I

have

slain it at once, but nevertheless

wept nor
sighed, conforming herself to the
marquis'spleasure. But at last she began to speak ; and
meekly she prayed the sergeant, as he was
a
man,
worthy gentlechild ere it died.
to let her kiss the
in her lap
Then
*

Please you.

^Snatched.

"
*

Inclinations

"

^heart.

Countenance,expression*

"

Desires.

CLERICS

THE

With
And
And
"

But

TALE,

this littlechild she laid

full sad fece,and
^n the child to
luUM
and
after
it,
gan it kiss.

295

bliss,

thus she said in her benien^ voice :

child,I shall thee never
see
since I have thee marked
with the cross

Farewell,my

Of thilkfe father,
blessfed may thou be,
That for us died upon
of tree.
a cross
Thy soul6,littlechild,I him betake,*
For this nightshall thou dien for my sake."

I trow

that to a nurse
in such
this pitiableobject. Well

ithad

been hard to have

seen
might a mother then have cried
Alas ! but nevertheless,
she was
stedfast that she endured
so
all adversity,
and to the sergeant said meekly,
"

Have

here

againyour

case

littleyoungfe maid.

Go now,'*quoth she to the sergeant, "and do my lord's bidding.

And
one
thing of your grace I would pray you, unless my lord
in the least forbade ; bury this littlebody in some
place where
it.*' But he would
birds may
neither beasts nor
tear
say no
He
took the child,and went
word
his
to that purpose.
upon
his
unto
The
and
told
him
came
lord,
again
sergeant
way.
shortly and plainlyall Grisilde's behaviour and words, point
for point,and presentedto him his dear daughter. Somewhat
this lord exhibits

pity in his

manner,

but he

holds

still to his

purpose.
As lord^s do when

they will have

their will.

And bade the sergeant that he privily

Should^ this child full softfewind and wrap.
With all6 circumstances
tenderly,
And carry it in a cofiferor in his lap ;
But upon pain his head off for to swappe,*
of this intent,
should^ know
That no man
he came, ne whither that he went ;
Ne whence
But at Bologn*unto his sisterdear,
That thilkfetime of Pavia was
Countess,
He should it take,and show her this mattdre.
Beseeching her to do her business,
This child to foster in all gentleness;
And whose child that it was, he bade her hide
From
every wight, for aught that might betide.

The

the

sergeant goeth,and

Marquis, who
*

Take

or

goeth

fulfils this

hurriedlyto

giveunto him,

to
thing. Return we now
her
by
imagining
Grisilde,
'

Strike,

TALES,

CANTERBURY

296
behaviour
But
ever
steadfast
"

her words
he may
the same
he could
and kind.
or

"

perceiveif
never

she be changed.
find her otherwise
than

glad,as humble, as busy in servise,

^d eke in love,as she was wont to be,
Was
she to him, in every manner
wise ;
Nor of her daughternot; a word spake she.

As

No accident for no adversity

Was
her daughter*8
in her ; ne never
seen
name
Ne namM
she in earnest
in
or
game.

THE
this estate
child,but as
child
In

FOURTH

PART.

four years passed before Grisilde was

again with
God
would, she then bore this Walter a male

Full gracious, and

fair for to behold.

his father ; and not only he but all the country

of this child,and they thanked
and
account
was
on
merry
it
and
had
its
left
God.
When
two
was
praised
years old,
nurse's breast, the marquis on a day, caught yet another desire

And

to

people told

tempt his wife,

if he may.
O needless was
she tempted in assay.
But wedded
knowen
meas6re
men
ne
no
that they find a patient creature.
When
"

Wife,"quoth the marquis,** ye have heard

bear'th our marriige.
My people sickly

ere

this

And namely ^ since my son yboren is,

it is worse
in all our
Now
than ever
age ;
The murmur
and
heart
slay'thmy
my courage,
For to mine earfes com'th the voice so smart
That it well nigh destroyed
hath my heart."
"
Now
Walter is agone
say they thus : When
Then
shall the blood of Janicle succeed,
And be our lord,for other have we none."
Such wordfes saith my people,out of drede ;2
Well ought I of such murmur
taken heed,
I dreadfe such sentence.
For certainly
Though they not plainly
speak in my audience. ^

"

^speciivUy.

"

poubt,

Wearing,

THE
"*

CLERK'S

TALE.

397

I wouldfe live in peace, if that I might ;

Wherefore
I am disposedutterly,

As I his sister served^

Right
Thus

so

by night,

think

I to serve
him
I you, that ye not

warn

privily.
suddenly

should outraie ;*
Out of yourselffor no woe
Be patient,
and thereof I you pray."
"

have,*'quoth she, ** said thus, and

ever

shall will

thing I certainlynever
pleaseyou.
"

I will no
what may

shall say.

anything" but

Nought grievethme

at

all,

Though that my daughterand my son be slain

At your command^ment
; this is to sain^
I have not had no part of children twain^
and afterwoe
firstsickness^

But

and

Ye he

pain.

with your owen

thing
Right as you list ; asketh no rede * of n"e ;
For as I left at home all my clothing
When
I firstcame
to you, rightso,"quoth she,
"
Left I my will and all my liberty,
And took your clothing
I you pray
; wherefore
Do your pleasince,
I will your lust obey.
And

lord,do'th

our

certes,if I hadd^

prescience

will to know, ere ye your lust

I would it do withouten negligence
:
I wot 8 your lust,
But now
and what
Your

told,

me

would.

ve

All

yoMX pleasdnc6firm and stable I hold ;

For wist I that my death would do you ease.
Right gladlywould I dien you to please.
Death

may

Unto

The

your

Constance

His eyen
In

And

But
This

mak^
love."
of his

not

comparisoun
when this marquis say*
he
cast adown
wife,
no

And

two, and wondreth

that she may

suffer
all
his
patience
array ;
forth he go'thwith dreary countenance,

to his heart it was

ugly sergeant^ i^ the

worse
device,that he

full great pleasdnce.

same

manner

or

worse,

if

men

can,

caught hold of her daughter,

any
that
full
of
seized
her
son
was
beauty. But ever the same,
now
she made
heaviness
of cheer, but
she was
no
so, patientthat
She only
kissed her son, and afterwards began to b^ess hii)ci.

prayedthe

had

sergeant)
'

Counsel

or

advice.

'

Know.

Saw,

CANTERBURY

tgS

TALES.

if that he might
Her littleson he would in earthfe grave,
His tender limbfes,
delicate to sight,
From
foulfes^and from beastfes him to save.

But she

might

have

no

from

answer

him.

his way as
He went
then tenderlytook the

though he knew no compassion ; but

child to Bologna.
and more
This marquis wondereth
more
beforehand
known
and if he had
not
truly

her patience;
at
that she perfectly
her
loved
children, he would have believed that for some
she suffered all
of malice,or a cruel inclination,
and
subtlety,
well that next
But he knew
this with a stedfast visage.
to
in every way loved her children best. But
himself she certainly
fain ask if these assays
I would
of women
now
might not
in order to
devise more
could a sturdy husband
suffice ? What
stedfastness ? And
tinues
yet he conof
such
But
there
are
a
as
as
ever.
people
condition that when
they have taken hold of a certain purpose
bound
desist
to a
cannot
they
; but,just as though they were
stake, they .abide by it,and slacken nothing: just so this
marquis purposes fullystillto tempt his wife,as he had at first
if either by word
been disposed. He waiteth [awhile]to see
but
exhibited
in
she
her
countenance
a
or
inclinations,
change
prove

never

her

wifehood
inflexible

and

could he find any

She

was

aye

one

her

variation.
in heart and

in

visige.

faithful and assiduous

stillthe older she grew
the more
It seemed
was
she, if that be possible,in her love for him.
for
there
will
Walter
but
of
these
that
two
as
one
was
pleased
;
also her pleasure.
so was
And

thanked,all fell for the best,

well,for no worldly unrest
A wife,as of herself,
no
thing ne should
in
would.
husband
but
her
as
Will, efifect,
And
She

God

be
showfed

the slander of Walter

And now
spread wondrously wide ; it was
he.had wedded
said that of a cruel heart and wickedly,because
be
had
murdered
his
Such
children.
privily
a
poor woman,
No
heard commonly.
wonder
were
murmurs
: there came
no
murdered.
word to the people'sear but that the children were
made
And
they who had loved him so well before were
by this
A murderer's
slander to hate him.
is a hateful name.
But
nevertheless,neither for earnest, nor sport, would he give up
His intent was
fixed still to tempt his wife.
his purpose.
'

Birds.

299

of age,
year was
in suchfe wise,

daughtertwelve

that his

When

TALE,

CLERICS

THE

He to the court of Rome,

sent his message
of his will,
Informed
devise
Commanding him such bull"s to
'}

suffice.
As to his cruel purpose may
his
for
rest,
people's
that the Pope, as
How
lest.^
him
if
Bade him to wed another
I say, he bade they should^ counterfeit
The popfesbuUfes,making mention
wife to lete,'
That he hath leave his firstfe
As by the Pope's dispensation,
and dissent'ion
To stintfe*rancour
said the
Thus
him.
and
his
Betwixt

people

which

The

rude

were

as

I deem

her heart

Th'

wonder) that things

the tidingsreached.Grisildis,

it is

no

But

woe.

stedfast evermore,

this humble
creatiu*e,
of fortune all to endure ;
adversity
was

Abiding ever
To

whom

to tell my

his lust''and his pleasance

that she was
given,heart and all ;
to

though they were

But

When

full of

was

Disposed

as

(and

people believed
theythus seemed.

The

bull.

pubUshfedat the full.

they have

the
shortly,

story

ample sufficiency.
marquis hath written a special
secretlysent it to Bologna to

her, in this world, an

letter,showing his intent,and

his sister,
praying him to
the Earl of Pavia, who had married
estate.
and in honourable
bring home his two children openly,
men
might
One
thing also he prayed earnestly,that, though
children
whose
they were,
he should tell to no one

inquire,

should 5rwedd6dhe
But say the maiden
;
Unto the Marquis of Saluce anon
he
did
so
;
earl
was
this
prayed,
And as
is
his
he
on
gone
way
For at day set,
Toward
Sdluce,and lordfes many one
for to guide,
In rich array, this maiden
brother
ridingby her side.
Her

youngfe

her marriage
This freshfemaid, all full of gemmfes clear ;
of age,
years was
Her brother,which that seven
Arrayfedeke full fresh in his manndre.
And thus in great nobl^ss,and with glad cheer,
to-ward

Arrayfedwas

Saluces

To-wkrd
From

Messenger,

day
?

to

shapingtheir journiy

day they riden

Pleas^.

? Put

in their way.

away,

gtay,

Pesire,

THE
The
Now

her

TALES,

CANTERBURY

300

PART.

FIFTH

mother
has suffered the cruellest trials.
Can
the wife is to be harrowed.
she suffer uncomplainingly
the greatest indignityto herself,as well as
injury to
children ? Yes.
Her love is above all.

loving innocent

Among

all this,
after his wicked

usdge,

his wife to tempten more

To the utterest proofof her courage
Fully to have experienceand lore,
If that she were
steadfast as before ;
as
He on a day in open audience
hath said her this sentence
Full boisterously
This

"

marquis yet

I had enough pleasdnce

Certes,Grisild*,
To have you to my wife for your goodness,

for your truth and for your obeisance ; '^

for your rich^ss ;
Not for your linkage,
ne
But now
know I in very soothfastness
if I well advise,
That in great lordship,
in sundrywise.
servitude
is
There
great
And

I may

do,as

not

every

ploughman

may

My people me constraineth for to take

Another wife,and crien day by day ;
for to slake,
And eke the Popfe,rancour
Consenteth
it,that dare I undertake :
And

My

truely,thus
wife is

newfe

much

I will you

coming by

say,
the way.

her place!
Be strong of heart,and void anon
And thilkfedower that ye broughten me,
Take it again ; I grant it of my grace.
Retumeth
to your father's house (quoth he),
No man
always have prosperity.
may
heart I rede* you to endure
With even
The stroke of Fortune or of ddventure,"

she,again,answ^r*d in patience :
My lord,"quoth she, I wot and wist' alway..
How
that betwixen your aiagBifice"c"
And my pov^rt*,
nor
nO'wijghtnecan
may
Maken
comparison : it is no nay ::
I held me
never
digne*in nomanndre

And

"

"

To

'Obedience..

be your

wife, nor
Advise^.

yet your chamberen

and knew.,
'^I^know,^

f\yQrthy.

CLERICS

THE

TALE,

301

in this house there ye me

ladymade
God
take
I
for
(The highfe
my witness,
And all so wisely he my soulfe glade*)
I never
held me
lady or mistress
But humble
worthiness :
to your
servant
while that my life may 'dure,
And ever
shall,

And

Aboven

every

worldly creature.

That ye

so
long of your benignity
Have holden me in honour and nobldy,*
Whereas
I was
not worthy for to be,
I pray
That thank I God and you, to whom
to say :
Foryield*it you ; there is no more
Unto my father gladly
will I wend.
And with him dwell unto ray livfesend.
'

There I was
fostered as a child full small ;
Till I be dead, my life there will I lead ;
A widow
clean in body, heart,and all :
*
For since I gave to you
maidenhede,*
my
it
And
is
no
am
drede,
your true wife,
God shields such a lordfeswife to take*
Another
to husband
to make.**
or
man
of your newfe wife,God of his grace
So grant you wealfe and prosperity,
For I will gladly
yieldenher my place
In which that I was
blissful wont
to be :
For since it liketh you, my lord (quoth she),
And

That
That

all my heartfes rest.

whilom
weren
I shall go, I will go when you lest.

But there
As

It

as

I first

were

my

proffersuch dowalre,
brought,it is well in my mind.
wretchfed clothfes,
nothingfair.
ye

me

hard now
The which to me
for to find.
were
0 gpodh God t how gentleand how kind
and your visage
Ye seemhd byyour speech
The day that makH
was
our
marriage !
But sooth is said,algate^
I find it true,
is on me.
For in effect it provfed
Love is not old,as when that it is new
;
But certes,lord,for none
adversity.
To dien in this case, it shall not be
in word
That ever
work I shall repent
or
That I you gave my heart in whole intent.

Comfort.
To take
"

Nobleness.

taking
against

Mate

"

"

Repay.
Always.

CANTERBURY

302

TALES.

that in my father's place.

wot
did me
stripout of my poor^ weed,
cladden of your grace ;
And richfelv me
To you brought I nought ellfesout of drede
and nakedness,and maidenhede
But faith,
;
And here again
clothingI restore,

My lord,ye
Ye

my

And

eke my

The

remnant

Within
Naked
out

wedding ring,for

evermore.

of your jewelsreadybe
I dare safely
sain.
your chamber.

of my father s house (quoth she)

I turn again.
I came, and naked must
would I fulfilfain,
All your pleasanc^
But yet I hope, it be not your intent
That I smockldss out of your palacewent.
"

I pray

you

"

"

"

like a worm
you, mine owen

Let me
Remember

was

go by the way :
lord so dear,

not

your

wife,though

unworthy were.

Vouchsafe
own

this to me, and here I take my

lord,lest I grieveyou."
"

The

Let

But
sorrow

it was

"

"

smock," quoth he, " that

and bear it forth
it be still,

with

that he

leave

thou hast on
with thee."

he spoke ; he was
difficulty
was
compelled to go away.

so

of you,

mine

thy back,

full of

pity and

Then

Before the folk herselven strippeth

she,
And in her smock, with head and foot all bare,
Toward
her father's house forth is she fare.

The

folk her follow

weeping in

her way.

as they gone
aye they cursen
But she from weeping kept her eyen dry,
Ne in this iimh word ne spake she none.
Her father,that this tidingheard anon,
Curseth the day and tim^ that Natiire

And

Shaped

Fortune

him

to be

;*

livingcreature.

had ever been suspicious

concerning
firsthe
had
believed
that
the
her marriage.
when
he would
think
satisfied his inclinations,
the lord had
it a
his
have
estate
to
alighted so low, and
disparagement to
he could.
therefore put her away
Towards
as
as
his
soon
he
he
for
knew
noise
the
of the
hastily,
by
daughter
goes
No

doubt, this poor old

man

From

people that

5be

was

coming, and, weeping sqrrowfuUy,with

"

Go, walk.

CLERICS

THE
her old
her

at

303

tries to cover
her ; but it would
for the cloth was
rude, and older

not

coat

body,

than

7 ALE,

the time

meet

by many

about
a

day

pf her marriage.

with her father,

for a certain space,
this flower of wifelypatience,
That neither by her words nor by her face,
Before the folk,nor eke* in their absence,

Thus

Dwelleth

Ne showed
done offence,
she that her was
Nor of her high estate no remembrance
Ne hadd^ she as by her countenance.
No

is, for in her great estate,

wonder
Her

No

in

ghost'was ever
mouth, no

tender

plain*humilityj

hearth
sembldnce

delicate,

No pomp, ne no
of royalty,
But full of patient benignity.
and prid^less,
Discreet,
aye honpurdble,
And to her husband
meek
and stable.
ever

speakof Job,and

Men
As

most

when
them
clerk"s,
Namely* of men, but as

Though
There

can

clerkfes praisen
women
no

As

woman

can,

As

women

be,
"

of the

but
him

in humbless

man
ne

can

be half

so

SIXTH

lite,"

acquit

true

^but*it be fall'n of

THE
From
thereof

for his humbl^ss.

lust,can well indite,

in soothfastness,

new.

PART.

the

Earl of Pavia
is come
the fame
; and
springsup to rich and poor, and it also reaches the ears
chioness
marpeople generallythat he brings with him a new
and richness,that never
in such pomp
before did the

Bologna

Lombardy. The
array in all West
marquis, who had shaped and knew all this before the earl
for the poor simple Grisildis.
sent
a message
came,
eye of

man

see

so

noble

an

And

she with humble

heart and ^ladvisdge.
with no swollen thoughtin her
and on her knees her set,
at his best,'
and
reverently wifelyshe him gret.*

course,

Not
Came
And
"

quoth he,
Grisilde,"

who

is to be wedded

lAlst).
" Little.

to

*'

it is my entire will that this

shall be received to-morrow
me,

Spirit.

"

Save, except*

maiden,
in

"Full.

Especially.

"

Greeted.

Bidding.

as

CAN7^EKBUky

304

TALES,

possiblein my house she can be. And

also that every one, according to his rank, shall have his estate
and in as highlypleasing
observed,in seating,serving,
properly
him as I can devise.
is able
who
I have certainly
no
woman

royal a

manner

as

it is

chambers
in due order after my
pleasure,and
therefore
I would
wish that thine were
all such governance.
Thou
knowest of old all that is agreeableto me.
And though
thine array be bad, and evil to look at,
to

array

the

Do
"

thou

thy devoir

at the leasts

way."

Not

only,lord,that I am glad (quoth she)

To do your lust,*
but I desfre alsd
You for to serve
and pleasein my degree,
Withouten
and shall evermo' :
fainting,
Ne never
for no weal, ne for no woe,
Ne shall the ghost'within my heartfe stent,*
To love you best with all my true intent."
And

with that word she 'ganthe house to digbt,

And tables for to set, and bedd^s make.
And pained her to do all that she might ;
sake
Praying the chamberers for Godd^
To hasten them, and "a8t^ sweep
and shake ;
And she,the most
serviceable of all.
Hath

arrayed,and

every chamber

his hall.

nine of the clock the earl ahghted, with these two

About
noble children.
The people ran to see the sight of their rich
And
then
them it was said that Walter
at first amongst
array.
fool ; though it
him
to change his wife, he
was
no
for
best.
the
changed

pleas^

For she is fairer,

all
as they deemen
Than
tender of age.
is Grisild',
and more
And fairer fruit between them shouldfe fall
And more
pleasint,for her high linedge:
Her brother eke* so fair was
of visdge,
That them to see the people caught pleasdnce,
Commending now the marquis'governance.
O

stormy people,unsad,*and

ever

untrue.

and changingas a fane,

indiscreet,
Delightingever in rumble" that is new,

And

For like the moon

:
aye waxen
ye and wane
full
of
dear
clapping,
enough a jane,^
Aye
is false,
evil preveth.a
Your doom
your constance
A full great fool is he that on you 'lieveth.
'

Pleasure.
* Rumour.

Spirit.

"

Stop, cease.

Also.

Unstable.

'

A small Genoese

coin.

"

Proveth.

THE
Thus

said grave

TALE.

CLERICS

30S

persons
in that

city,

When
that the peoplegazed up and down,
For they were
glad,rightfor the novelty.
To

make

have

newfe

lady of

their town.

of this,but will address

mention
and
and
myself again to Grisilde,
speak of her business
And
thoroughly busy she was in every thing that
constancy.
of her
the
feast. Nothing abashed
to
account
on
appertained
dress,though it was rude, and somewhat
torn, with glad cheer
she goes with other folk to the gate to greet the marchioness,
and afterwards proceeds with her duties.
-now

With

na

further

glad cheer his guestfesshe receiveth,

And conningly,*
every in his degree.
That no default!fio man
apperceiveth,
But
what she mighte be
wondferen
aye they
so

for to see,
That in so poor array was
And couldfe such hon6ur and reverence
;
And worthilythey praisen
her prudence.

In all this mean^

whil^ she ne stent,^
This maid and eke her brother,to commend
With all her heart in full bux6m'
intent.
So well that no man
could her praiseamend
But at the last when
that these lordfes wend*
To

sitten down
as she
Grisild',
"

meat, he 'gan to call

busy in

was

his hall.

it were
wife and

in his

Grisild',
(quoth he, as
How

"

to

play)
beauty ?
lord,(quoth she) for in good fay

liketh thee my

Right well,my
A fairer saw
I pray

And so I
Pleasince

to God

never

none

"

her

than

she ;

give her prosperity,

hope that he
enough unto

will to you send

your Hvfes end.

alsd.
thing beseech I you, and warn
with no t6rmenting
That ye ne prickfe
This tender maiden, as ye have done mo,*

One

For she is fostered in her nourishing

and to my stipposing
More tenderly,
She couldfe not adversityendure.
foster'd creature."
As could a poorfe
her patience.
when this Walter saw
Her gladd^ cheer,and no malfce at all,
And he so oft had done to her offence.
And she aye sad" and constant
as a wall.
Continuingever her innocence over all ;
And

*
Obedient,dutiful.
Knowingly, appreciatingly. ^Ceased.
"
" More.
firm.
Went.
Stedfast,

Digitizedby VjOOQ

IC

3o6

TALB^,

CANTERBURY

This sturdymarquis *gan his heart address

To rue upon her wifelystedfastness.
This

"

IS enough,Grisilda mine
(quoth he),
Be now
no
more
aghast,or evil apaid,^
I have thy faith and thy benignity,
As well as ever
woman
was, assay'd,

In great estate,and poorfely

arrayed.
Now
know I,dearfe wife,thy stedfastness ;"
And her in arm^s took,and 'ganto kess.^
took of it no keep :
she for wonder
She heard^ not what thing he to her said ;
She fared as she had start out of a sleep,
abraid.'
Till she out of her mazedness
"
Grisild' (quoth he), by God that for us dey'd,
Thou
other I ne have ;
wife ; none
art my
Ne never
had, as God my soulfe save.
And

This is my daughter which thou hast supposed

To be
my wife ; that other faithfully
Shall be mine
heir,as I have aye purp6sed;
Thou
bare them in thy body truelv ;
At Bologn*have I kept them privily
:

Take

them

That

thou

again,for
hast lorn*

now

none

may'st thou
of

not

say,

thy children tway.

folk that otherwise have said of me,

them
well that I have done this deed
For no malice nor for no cruelty,
But for t' assay in thee thy womanhede.
And not to slaymy children (God forbede !),
and still
But for to keep them privily
Till I thy purpose knew, and all thy will,"

And

warn

she this heard, a-swoon^

down
she falleth
For piteousjoy ; and aftdr her swooning,
She both her youngfe children to her calleth.
And in her arrays,piteouslyweeping,
Embraceth
them, and tenderlykissing
Full like a mother,with her saltfetears
She bathfed both their visageand their ears,

When

O,

what

piteousthing it was

to see

swooning, and her humble voice to hear I

"
Grand mercy ^ lord ! God thank it you (quoth she).
That ye have savfed me
my children dear :
reck I never
Now
to be dead righthere.
Since I stand in your love and in your grace,
No force of* ddath,nor when my spirit
pace.*
Her

*
*

Pleased.
No

matter

for I

Kiss.

care

not

for

"

Started,recovered.

"

Pass.

Lost.

THE
O

CLERK'S

TALE,

307

tender,dear^,youngfe children

mine !
mother weenfed* stedfastly
That cruel houndfes or some
foul vermine
Had eaten you ; but God of his mercy
And your benignfe
father tenderly
Hath done you keep^: '* and in that samfe stound'
Your

woful

All

suddenly she swapp"d^ down

to

ground.

And in her swoon

so
sadlyholdeth she
Her children two, when
she 'ganthem embrace.
That with g^eat sleight
and great difficulty,
The children from her arm
they 'gan arrace.*
O I many
a tear, on
a
piteousface,
many
Down
of them that stooden her beside ;
ran
Unneth* about her mights they abide.
Walter her gladdeth,
and her sorrow
slaketh,
She riseth up abashed from her trance.
And every wight her^ joy and feastfemaketh,
Till she hath caught again her cotintenance.
Walter her doth so faithfully
pleasdnce,
That it was
daintyfor to see the cheer
Betwixt them two now
they been met in fere.'
when that they their timfe say,*
ladies,
Have taken her,and into chamber
gone,
And strippenher out of her rude array.
And in a cloth of gold that bright^shone.

These

With

of many
a cc- Dwne
a richfe stone
her head, they into hall her brought,
there she was
hondurfed as she ought.

Upon
And
Thus
For

hath this

This
Till
For

This
Than

piteousday

and
every man
day in mirth and

woman

blissfulend ;
doth his

revel to

might.
dispend ;

the welkin shone the starrfes bright;

solemn in every mannfes sight
feastfewas, and greater of costdge.
the revel of their marriage.
was
on

more

and in rest,and in cona year, in high prosperity,

cord,
many
lived these two.
And, nchly, the marquis married his
daughter to a lord,one of the worthiest of all Italy. And in
his wife's father,until the
rest and peace, he kept in his court
his
of
In
rest and in peace^ too, his son
soul crept out
body.
after his father's day Joflule],and
succeeds in his heritage,
his
in
also
fortunate
marriage,although he did not put his
was
wife in great trials ;
Full

1
*

Believed.
Take away.

Caused
*

you

Hardly.

to be
'

2A

"

preserved.

To

her.

Moment.

Fell.

In union.

Saw.

CANTERBUR

3o8

TALES.

This world is not so strong, it is no

As it hath been in oldfe timfes yore ;

Nay

author saith. This story is told,

my
Grisilde in humility; for though
follow
wives should
not because
but
they would desire to do so, they would find it impossible,
his
because every one, according to
position,

hearken, therefore,what

Should

be constant

As

Grisilde.

Petrarch

Therefore
since

ought we

was

adversity
in

writeth
so

was

woman

in

patient unto

to receive in cheerfulness

provethfolk

He

REMARKS

ON

all

And

loftystylethis story.
a

mortal
God

what

man,

sends

much
us

more
"

"

"

"

day,it is no dread.

THE

CLERKS

TALE.

difficult or
delicate
more
problem in
and
but of that
criticism
we
speak not technically,
cise
or less exergeneral criticism which all readers more
little
than to have
neither too much
too
nor
faith in an
author:
servedly,
unregive yourself up to him at once
and you
in a great measure
to exercise an
cease
is

ERE

no
"

"

independent judgment

and thought,
movement
Yet
it is not, we
learn.
to enjoy, almost
cease
to
you
venture
to think,by any endeavour
to hit a presumed medium
between
these two
that
the problem is to be solved.
courses
Two
such opposite sets of mental
agencies are thus brought
into play at the same
that
if
time,
they are equallyefficient the
result is a kind of paralysisof both.
They must, therefore,
each work alone in order to be of much
And
value.
why not ?
who comes
Is it,for instance,a poet of the loftiest pretensions
before us ? we
make
of
the
cannot
too
sure
genuineness and
value of his credentials ; but, once
let him for evermore
satisfied,
be an honoured
wisdom
will
be
Our
us.
guest among
thenceforward
best shown
in listening
The
to his wisdom.
does
teaches
he
not
great poet
dispute.
;
And there is for every man,
if he would but seek it,a kind of
sacred pool of Bethesda, in which
his spirit
might wash away
the impuritiesand incrustations that it must
in the
contract
miry and hard ways of the world ; that pool is the depths of his
heart ; and the poet is the angel who ever
own
waiteth to stir
and

scan

every

CLERK'S

THE

it. Those

who

TALE,

309

read the Clerk's Tale^ in the rightspirit

will not requireto see with their own
flashing
eyes the sudden
of the intolerable radiance,or to hear with their own
ears, the
of
beating of the strange wings, in order to satisfythemselves
the truth and character of Chaucer's ministrations.
will
They
be content
he has made
them
feel the unapto feel what
proachable
have

"

of Love, who
when
beauty and irresistible power
most
trampled upon is then most truly preparing to achieve
mightier conquests than ambition ever dreamt of; their first
will not
impulse

the
be to attempt to measure
to fasten instantly
upon as

altitude, still less

poet'sintellectual
a fault what
they

have happened not to appreciateor understand

; it will be to
consider how
themselves
do
than
they may
something more
they have ever done before to realise the bidding of the Divine
Teacher
of the Mount, whose
laws here become
persons, and
about
move
among
us, like their Giver, exemplifying in a
human
what
shape
they would make of humanity.
would
ourselves desire to leave this
It is in such a spirit
we
and
tale to its own
not
merits,
be, under
attempt what must
ordinarycircumstances,an act of presumption,to enforce or to
explainits lessons. But it would be idle to deny that there is a
class of readers who have more
taste than self-confidence,
more
than
defend
what
for
to
ability
they enjoy ;
enjoyment
capacity
and who are therefore apt to be unjust to their author for no
better

their

reason

than that others

are

so

who, wanting
only
them defects.
Grisilde,
mother, they say, could

;" persons

to perceiveexcellences,are
qualifications

therefore

to
the more
eager to attack what seem
No
with such persons, is not natural.
wife could see
sacrificed as she does
se'e her children
no
another brought into her place,and be herself requiredto assist
without turning against
for the new
in the preparations
comer,
her : whereas
the foot that crushes
Grisilde,on the contrary,
is
and
her
taken away
blow
second
when
the
son
as the
struck,
daughter had been before,says to the cruel destroyer
"

"

not

Though
At your

me
grieveth

that my daughterand
commandfement.

True, she does say

so, for Grisilde

at all

my

in the

son

be slain

height of her sublime

In the previous
pages, 129-130, we have spoken at lengthof the
only repeat here that Chaucer
originof this tale ; we need, therefore,
of Petrarch,
derived its subjectfrom Boccaccio,through the medium
of mouth
to Chaucer,
is supposed to have related it by word
who
Latin
See
Petrarch's
visits
of
the
to
Italy.
English poet's
during one
*
and Boccaccio's Italian versions in the Chaucer
Society'sOriginalsand
^

Analogues,'pp. 149-176;

also pp. 525 and

549 for other versions.

CANTERBUR

3IO

TALES.

she believes to be her duty to her liege lord,

and in fulfilment of the oath she took to obey him in all things,
desires to avert from her lord even
the reflection of her sorrows:
but what she reallysuffers we feel almost too acutely. Chaucer's
wonderful
making littleor no attempt to
art, while apparently
is in truth constantly reshow
the state of Grisilde's feelings,
vealing
divine
this
heart
of
of
the
woman.
beneath
depth
depth
devotion

to what

the revulsion
straining
that immediately follows this overto
of the powers
^how the very brain seems
of nature
between
of the struggle
confused in the agony
reel,and grow
whilst the
all kinds of conflictingthoughts and passions,even
hands
still keep their firm hold of the rock of duty to which

So, mark

"

Grisilde

clingsas

her

only safeguard.

at all
not grieveth
me
that my daughter and my son be slaia
At your commandfement
; that ts to sain
I have not had no part of children twain^

Though

But

and afterwoe
firststcknissy

and

pain.

Ye he my

thing
lord^doeth with your owen
asketh no rede^ ofme;
Right as you lest,*
For as I left at home
all my clothing,
firstto you, rightso (quothshe)
When
I came
Left I my will,and allmy liberty,
And took your clothing; therefore I you pray
I will your lust' obey.
Do your pleasdnce,

Again, take

another

passage

"

And

of your newfe wife, God of his grace

So grant you wealfe and prosperity,
For I will gladlyyieldenher my place
In which that I was
blissful wont
to be r
For since it liketh you, my lord (quothshe),
all my hearths rest,
That whilom
weren
That I shall go, I will go when
you lest.

But there as ye me
proffersuch dowalre.
As I first brought,it is well in my mind,
It were
nothing fair.
my wretchfed clothfes,
The which to me
hard now
for to find,
were
0

goodh God ! how gentleand how kind

and your visdge^
byyour speech^
makMwas
that
our
day
marriage /

Ye seemhd

The

In these words
the readers of the fourteenth century^
at
saw
of Grisilde's social relations with her
the whole
nature
once
lord ; for they were
themselves
living under the same, though
*

Please.

Advice.

"

Pleasure,

THE

CLERK'S

TALE.

%n

greatlymodified,system. It is not so with us ; and we must,

if we are not
therefore,seek explanationsupon these matters
To
the
trust.
willingto take
begin then. The
poet upon
marquis is,as we are constantly told in order to impress its

that is to say, he
us, the lord of Grisilde
consequences
upon
is absolute master
of her life,
and honour, by the recogliberty,
nised
laws of the feudal system.
But
that is not all. The
not
period in question was
only the period of the strictest
of
the
but
warmest
despotism,
loyaltyalso ; and, indeed,itwas
much
done to gild the chain, until
because
so
was
precisely
rather than of humiliation to wear
of honour
It became
a mark
"

it,that the system lasted so long as it did, and developed so

chivalrous
much
of goodness. A generous
and
spiritwould
then devote himself almost
as
unreservedlyto the service of
his earthlyas of his heavenly Lord.
with mere
Not
content
his every wish.
So it is with
obedience,he sought to anticipate
Grisilde and her father,when
the marriage is proposed. It
would be a mistake to think that any choice was
rezdlyoffered
to them, of acceptance or denial ; the marquis,of his courtesy,
itin that way;
but though the old man, as we subsequently

puts

learn,had been
ever

in suspect of their marriage,

he could only say what he did," Lord, my will is as ye will,

As to Grisilde,she is not even
etc.
directlyasked to consent
that her
to the union ; she
is simply desired to understand
father and her feudal lord have been pleasedto determine
that
the union shall take place ; and what she is asked is this" ana
we

beg especialattention
To
As

me

to the words

"

Be ye ready with good heart

all my lust/ and that I freelymay
best thinketh,do you laugh or smart,

And never
ye to grutchennightnor day,
I say Yea, ye say not Nay,
And eke when
Neither by word nor frowningcountenance
?
dlliance.
a
nd
here I swear
Swear this,
our

sound now,
it would not have done
all this may
so
littlemore
than that the subjectshould
at the time, for it meant
into her
her old allegiance
new
position; and not
carry
not
presume
upon it to interfere with her lord's-will or wish
in any conceivable
less bound
become
to obey him
extremity.
oflfered as
it is
And
whilst Grisilde must
accept the hand
and
is
itself
of
such
t
he
fulness,
trustprincelygenerosity
offered, act
and
proceeds from so loved as well as revered a
as
Startling

"

"

'

Pleasure.

CANTkRBVRV

^12

TALUS.

is described

that her heart

to have been),
in
words
that
the
other
and more
to
gratitude
willing
responds
influences
compel her to speak,
primary

(as Walter

personage

that never
Here I swear
^
In work nor thoughtI will you
"

willingly
:
disobey

did not

conceive"
could have conceived
the awful
one
no
this solemn
bound
to which
engagement
her, in
consequences
addition to and beyond all her ordinaryties ; but,being bound,
with the whole force of her steady and resolute,
she determines
fulfil her obligations. And
most
to
thus
gentle spirit,
though
of Grisilde
have before us two phases of the character
we
a
boundless
notion of feudal loyalty,
of an
and a heartfelt sense
unredeemable
debt of gratitudeto the marquis for seeking her
in and lifting
her out
of her lowly condition ; each
phase
other
fold ; and both solemnly cona thousand
enhancing the
firmed
the
to Grisilde previousto
by the oath administered
marriage. Surely here are influences enough to explain all
her self-sacrifices,
and make
them
natural
enough, in the
that the poet's
of
if
the
find
commonest
sense
we
word,
only
machinery for setting his story in motion
(the peculiar
character
of the marquis) is adequate, and
that Grisilde
herself has ^^w^r to go through them, which certainlyneither
her loyalty,
her gratitude,
her oath, nor
her wedded
nor
nor
love,could of themselves give her.
The
character of the marquis may
be looked upon
as
an
illustration of the fantastic appetitesthat uncontrolled
will is
All is well
apt to engender in the hearts of the best of men.
both within and without his dominions.
He
is touched neither
"
"
"
"
malice
domestic
nor
by
foreign levy ; his subjectslove
with his government.
him, and are in perfect contentment
is there stirring
Nowhere
the faintest breath of opposition
even
to ruffle and give a bracing tendency to the atmosphere of his
mind.
The very excess
of his power makes
him
and perfection
of
feel less powerful by giving him
no
testing it.
opportunity
There is nothing for him to do that seems
worth
to him
doing.
action.
the
mind
seeks
For
a time,
Wanting healthy,
mihealthy
acted
counterhowever, and whilst the buoyancy of youth partially
the growing morbidness
created
by his position,the
marquis found a vent for his wasting energiesin the sports of
and satisfied his eternal craving for some
the field,
present and
passingpleasureby hawking and hunting on every side. And
before these had quitefailed to satisfy
him, he was interrupted
in their enjoyment by the appeal of his subjects,and by the
train of thought and feeling
that his consequent marriage
new
after
created.
the
But
old cravingreturns with tenfold
a while
She

"

"

^*

THE
force ; until at last the
after fresh excitement,
tempting his wife. And

CLERK'

TALE.

restless

ever

%\%

mind, in its wanderings

the idea
lights suddenly upon
there are
as
thoughts that, once

ot

it

glanced at, become

and danger as
as full of fascination
of
the
a
nd
snake
this
is so to the
:
glittering
deadly
eye
marquis. Grisilde's whole character is of so loftya nature
as
it doubtful
whether
she could be forced, by any
to render
of adversity
that might be inflicted upon
amount
her, to break
unconditional
her sworn
and
to
allegiance him, or to be
were

the

unfaithful

the

higher principlesthat

her being.
actuate
satiated
with
the
eternal
opportunity
reflection of his own
will in the mirror of the public mind I
is a career
There
in which
there is really a
to him
open
of failure ! It is true, he cannot
move
a
possibility
step in it
without inflicting
the extremest
his
beloved
wife ;
anguish upon
he
has
but
accustomed
not been much
to weigh very nicelythe
amount
of the emotions
of others ; and though
exact
or nature
his real affection for her necessarilyinvolves some
sympathy,
he passes off* all unpleasant and impeding considerations
by
that
of
the
will
be
himself
evils
inflict
he
none
assuring
may
real or at least irremediable.
Perhaps, too, he unconsciously
attributes
share in his own
and
most
to her
a
incorrectly
himself
therefore not
sensations and views,and
only excuses
it
the
bliss
will
be
in
his
confer
to
on
on
by reflecting
power
she is informed
to the truth, but half
her in the end, when
as
fancies she may
be content
to exchange a comparativelydull
of existence for one
and
shadows
where
the blackest
state
sunshine
in
shall
the
brightest
succession,cross
path. He
determines
attractive
upon the dangerous and cruel,but most
Poor
Grisilde's
trials
And
she
begin.
experiment.
passes
through them triumphantly. But how ? Whence, and of what
is the power that can
nature
support her in all her anguish ?
and
its
The power is from God, a part of His own
essence,
is Love.
injury it
name
Love, whose law it is that the more
which
should it exhibit its true
is
receives the more
character,
stillLove, to the injurer; and whose faith it is that thus alone
evil be stopped at its source
instead of being*allowed to go
can
acting,and, on the plea of resentment, re-actingeach upon
on
each continually. Is not this a faith for a martyrdom ? They
who
have
and women
an
are
"army" the men
gone to the
from
stake in order to maintain the rightof reading differently
What

an

to

for

man

"

Bible ; nay, sometimes, we fear,

their fellows the same
common
than the mere
for littlemore
right of sending others to that
doubt the existence
stake ; and yet there are those who
same
of the Martyrs of Love.
Grisilde is such a martyr. Her story is but the embodiment

Si4

CANTkkBUkY

TALBS,

of the spirit
which eighteen hundred
years ago shone through
the cross, saying
died upon
the words and acts of Him
who
for
:" and which
do
what
them
know
not
they
"Forgive
; they
eighteenhundred, or eighteen times eighteen hundred years
to come,
can
through all hearts and
alone, by its .diffusion
the thousand
redeem
the world from
or preserve
institutions,
of
illsit has been heir to.
Upon the altar of Love the poem
time
the Clerk's Tale
remains
an
offeringof
through all

unapproachable value.

with

warred

who

doughty

man

So

there

to

speak

kept

the

lacked

of him

as

faith

rich, hardy,

his

as

qf the

fresh, and

"

to

king

he

that

which

and

; he
the

ever

He

bom.

was

himself

also

was
same

strong,
in

honour

of

desirous

'longed

pledged
pity, just,

had

he

; full of

thing,

of

class

many
called

\ of his word, benign, and honourable,

stable,
centre
as
courdge
any

Young,
and

that

region

no

was

greatly renowned

so

was

in

"

in all^

lord

nought

wise

Sooth
Of

which

to

and

nowhere

was

excellent

Him

in his time

who

king

noble

This

king

which

through

Russia,

dwelt

there

Tartary,

died.

Cambuscan,
that

of

land

the

Sarra, in

TALE.

SQUIRE'S

THE

of

bachelor

any

as

arms

his

household.

kept

That

there

This

noble

Hadd"
of

so

two

and

was

fortundte,

his

well

ro-y-dl estate,
such
a
royal man.
king, this Tartar, Cambuscan,
his wife,
by Elcheta
sons
nowhere

was

eldest

the

which

he

fairfe person

A
And

and

Algarsife,

called

was

the

other

Camballo.
A

worthy king also,

bights Canac^
youngest
was,
all
her
tellen
for to
beauty
you

daughter

But

It li'th not
I dare

not

Mine

It

must

sufficient
describe

be

this

on

that

art,

so

ne

high

connfng

my
a

thing

am

not

if

he

could

that

rhetorician

so

such, I
befell

in

should

any

And

is insufhcient.

eke

excellent

for

tongue,

my

undertake

English

an

her

had

and

That

must

it that

speak
this

"True.

as

Cambuscan

can"

find
way

colours

attempt

to

UR

CANTERB

316

TALES,

Hath twenty winters borne his diadem ;

from year to year, I deem,
wont
As he was

he caused the feast of his nativityto be proclaimed throughout

it fell according
the cityof Sarra, on the last Ides of March, as
to the

year.*
Phoebus,the sun, full jollywas and clear,
For he was
nigh his exaltation
In Mart^s face,and in his mansion
In Aries,the choleric hot sign.
tte weather,and benign.
Full lustywas
For which the fowls againstthe sunni sheen
and the youngfe green)
(What for the season
Full loudfe sung in their affections :
seemed had getten them protections
Them
Against the sword of winter keen and cold.
This Cambuscan, of which I have you told,
In
vesture
sittingon his dais

ro3ral
diadem, full high

With

held his feast so

in the world like it.

and

rich,and

in his
so

palice;

solemn, that there

was

none

Of which" if I shall tellen all th' array.

day ;
wouUi it occupy a summer's
Then
And eke it needeth not for to devise
the order and servlse.
At every course

of their swans,
I will not tell of their strange dishes,nor
In that land also, as old knights
their young herons.
held as a daintythat in this land men
meat
there is some
littlefor. No man
may report all.

nor

tell,
careL

I will not tarrien you, for it is prime ;

but loss of time ;
And, for it is no fruit,
unto
I will betake me
my purpose.
it so befell that, after the third course,
And
sat in all his nobleness,

while

the

king

ministrels their thing^splay

;
Before him at the board deliciously
In at the hallfedoor all suddenly
a steed of brass,
There came
a knight upon

Hearkening his

And

in his hand

broad

mirr6ur

of

glass;

the
as
the Romans
known
month
among
of
months
the
the 13th,except in
Ides,were reckoned backwards,from
the reckoningwas from the 15th;
March, May, July,and October,when
's birth-day.
Cambuscan
therefore was
of March
the
*

The

eightdays in

15th

each

TffE

317

TaLR.

SQUIRM'S

he had of gold a ring,

his thumb
And
by his side a naked sword hanging ;
And up he rideth to the high^ board.
there spoke a word
In all the hall ne was
behold
For marvel of this knight ; him to
old.
and
Full busilythey waiten,young
thus
that
suddenly,
came
This Strang^ knight,
his head full richfely,
save
All armM
and lord^s all,
and
Saluteth
queen,

Upon

By

order

king
as they satten
high reverence
in speech as in

hall,
6bservance,

in the

and

With so
his countenance
As well
with his oldfe courtesy,
That Gawain
come
again out of Faery,
he
were
Though
with no word.
amende
Ne could him not
the
highfeboard,
And after this,before
He with a manly voice said this message
After the formfe used in his language,
or letter.
vice of syllable
Withouten
the better.
seem
And for his taXh should^
Accordant

as

his

to his wordfes was

cheer,
learn it. Albeit

speech teaches to those who

express his loftymanner,

the art of

I cannot

Nor

cannot

yet this I say, that

he meant

amounteth

climben
to a common
to thus

o'er

high

so

that

stile ;

understanding,all

that

ever

much.

If it so be that I have it in mind :

He said," The king of Araby and
lord,on this solemn^ day
My liegfe

Inde,

Saluteth you as he best can or may,

And sendethyou,in honour of your feast,
his best,
By me, that am ready at all
This steed of brass,that easilyand well
day natural
Can in the space of one
hours)
in
four-and-twenty
(This is to say,
ellfes
in
or
showers,
Where
lust, drought
so you
Bearen your body into every place
To which- yotirheartfe willeth for to pace,

through foul
on

your

or

fair,and

notwithstandingany

error

part ;
air
Or if you lust to flee as high in th'
list
to
him
when
soar,
As doth an eagle,
This sam^ steed shall bear you evermore,
Withouten
harm, tillye be there you lest
back or rest),
(Though that ye slcepcnon his

or

defect

TALES,

CANTERBURY

3i8
turn

was

capable of many

He

the turning of a pin.

a subtle contrivance.

again,with

and

that

wrought it

waited many
a constellation,
Ere he had done this operation,*
And knew full many
a bona.
a seal and
many
This mirror eke that I have in mine bond
Hath such a might, that men
may in it see
there shall fall any adversity
When
He

Unto
And

or

your regne,-

And
Hath

yourselfalso

to

is your
if any
all this,

openlywho
over

her heart

set

friend

or

fo2.

lady bright
wight,
any manner

on

shall his treason

see,
and
his subtilety,
His newfc love,
So openly that there shall nothinghide.

If he

be

she
false,

Wherefore
againstthis lustysummer
tide.
This mirror and this ring,that ye may
see,
He hath sent to my Lady Canace,
Your excellent^ daughter that is here.
The virtue of this ring,if ye will hear,
Is this,that whoso lust it for to wear
Upon her thumb, or in her purse to bear,

that she

meaning

fowl* that fleeth under

is no

There

heaven

his speech, and

shall not well understand
him in his own
and answer
openly and plain,
And

she shall also

every

grass

that

groweth

know, and whom

upon

it will

know

his

language.

root

heal.

All be his woundfes ne'er so deep and wide.

This naked sword, that hangeth by my side.
Such virtue hath,that what man
that it smite.
it will carve
and bite.
Throughout his armour
Were
it as thick as is a branched
oak ;
what man
Shall ne'er be
To stroke him
And

with the flat part where

the flat of the sword
Stroake

This

him

is ywounded with the stroke

whole, tillthat you lust,of grace,

he is hurt ; this is

in the

wound, and it will

is the very truth without

It faileth not

And
*

when

Astrology.

to^say,ye

deceit

close.

while it is in your hold."

this knight thus had his XaXh
"

Realm,

must

told,
"

Bird,

with

THE

TALE,

SQUIRE'S

319

rode out of the hall,and down he 'light.

His steeds,which that shone as sunn^
bright,
Stood in the court as stillas any stone.
led anon,
This knight is to his chamber
and to meat
And is unarmed
yset.
He

fetched away

rich manner,
borne
are
anon

that is to
into the
say, the mirror and the sword, which
And
certain
officers
the
tower
speciallyappointed.
by
high
ring is borne, solemnly, to Canace, as she sat at the board.
without fable,as to the horse of brass, it may
But certainly,
It stands as it were
glued to the ground. No
not be removed.
lass
such
drive
it
of
the
out
engines as the windplaceby
man
may

These

presents

are

in

the craft.
not
or
pulley,and for this reason, they know
And
therefore they have left it in the place,until the Knight
of removing him, as ye shall
the manner
hath taught them
hear.
afterwards
the press that swarmed
to and fro,
Great was
To gauren*on this horse that standeth so ;
For it so high was, and so broad and long.
for to be strong,
So well proportioned
steed
it
of Lombardy ;
a
were
Right as
Thereto so horselyand so quick of eye
"

'

As it a gentlePolish courser
For certes from his tail unto
Nature
In

nor

Art

;
ear

could him not amend

all the people ween'd.

ne

degree,as

no

were

his

their mostfe wonder

But evermore
was
of brass
How
that it couldfe go, and was
It was
of Faerie,as the people seem'd.
Diversfe peoplediverselythey deem'd :
heads as many
witt^s be.
As many

They murmured

as

doth

of bees.

swarm

after their

They

made

reasons

fantasies,

the oldfe poetries,

said it was
ylikethe Pegasee,
horse that haddfe wingfesfor to flee.

Rehearsing of
And

The
Or

else it

Troy

to

the horse

was

as
destruction,
"*

My

heart

men

of

Sinon, the Greek, that brought

may

(quoth one) is

in the old Gestes.

read

evermore

in drede

be therein.
of arm^s
them
this
cityfor to win ;
shapen
that
all such thing were
It were
rightgood
fellow
his
Another rownfed* to
low,

I trow
That

some

Gaze.

men

know.'*

Whispered,

CANTERBURY

320

TALES,

for it is rather like

And said,** It lieth,
An Apparencfemade
magfc,
by some
As jugglersplayen at these feastfesgreat."

they jangle and discuss of sundry doubts : judging, as

with greater
do, of things made
ignorant people commonly
subtletythan they in their ignorance can comprehend :

Thus

"

the badder end.

of them wondered
the mirror
And
on
some
the
That born was
into
master
tower,
up
How
men
might in it such^ thing^ssee.
Another answer'd and said,** It might well be

They

deemen

gladlyto

Naturallyby compositions
Of angles,and of high reflections
And

said^ that in Rome

was

such

**

;
a one.

They speak of Alhazen and Vitellon

And
that written in their lives
Aristotle,
Of quaint^mirrors and of prbspectives,*
As knowen
they that have their book^s heard.
And other folk have wond'red
the sword
on
That would^ passfethroughout every thing ;
And fell in speech of Telephus the king.
And of Achilles for his quaint^spear,

for he
manner

both
as

could

heal and hurt with it,in the very

with the sword of which ye have
may

men

same

selves
your-

heard.

justnow
They speak

of hardening of metal ; and

of sundry modes
they speak also of medicines, and of how and when it should
to me.
be hardened, all of which is unknown
Then

speaken they of

Canacee's

ring,

And saiden all that such a wondrous

thing
Of craft of ring^sheard they never
none.
Save that he, Moses, and King Solomon,
of conning^in such art.
Hadden
a name
Thus say the people : and drawen them apart.
saiden that it was
But nath^less some
Wondrous
of fernfe-ashes glass.
to make
And yet is glassnought like ash^s of fern ;

but inasmuch

as

they had

known

it so before.

Therefore ceaseth their janglingand their wonder.

And sor^ wond'ren
of thunder,
cause
some
on
On ebb, and flood,on gossamer, and on mist,

and

on

all things,until the

cause

be known.

Thus janglenthey,and deemen

and devise,
Till that the king 'gan from his board arise.
*

Telescopes,

'Knowledge

or

skill.

THE

SQUIRE'S

TALE.

321

Phoebus hath left the angle meridional,

And yet ascendingwas
the beast roy^,
The gentleLion, with his Aldrian,
When
that this Tartar King, this Cambuscan,
Rose from his board, there as he sat full high.
Before him go'thfull loudfe minstrelsy,

until he

to his chamber

came

of State,where

they sound

divers instruments,
is ylikea heaven for to hear.
Now
dancen lustyVenus* children dear,
For in the Fish^ their lady sat full high,
And looketh on them with a friendly
eye.
This noble king is set upon his throne,
This Strang^knight is fetch 'd to him full soon,
That

in the dance he 'gan with Canace.

Here is the revel and the jollity
That is not able a dull man
to devise ;
He must
have knowen
Love and his service.
And
been a feastly
man, as fresh as May,
That should^ you devisen such array.
And

Who
could tell you
the fresh countenances
Such subtle
for dread of the
No

man

of the form

engaged

of the uncouth
in

them,

of

"

lookingsand dissimulings,

perceptionsof jealousmen
but

dances, or

Launcelot,and he

is dead

all this delight. In this jolliness

I leave
I pass over, therefore,
address themselves
to supper.
them, until men
The steward bade them carry round the spices,
and also the
and the ushers go,
wine, during all the melody ; the squires
and the wine and spicesare immediately brought. They eat
this was
and drink,and, when
ended, proceed unto the temple,
as

was

proper.
all by day.
The service done, they suppen
What
needeth you rehearsen their array ?
Each man
well that at a king^s feast
wot
Is plentyto the most and to the least.
than be in my knowing.
And dainties more
And after supper go'th this noble king
To see this horse of brass,with all his routs
Of lord^s and of ladies him about.
Such wond'ring was
there on this horse of brass,

that since the great siege of

was
upon a horse, there never
^

The constellation.

Troy, where men

such wondering
2

also wondere
as

now.

Suite,company.

TALES,

CANTERBURY

322

the king
But, finally,
The

ask^d

the

virtu fe of this courser, and

knight
the

might,

And pray'dhim tellen of his governance.

The horse anon
*gan for to tripand dance,
that the kni^tlaid hand upon his rein.
When
And saide :
to say, but that when
Sir,there is no more
you wish to ride
I
in
his ear, which
anywhere, ye must turn a pin that stands
"

also name
ourselves. Ye must
shall tell you between
to him
And
when
ride
to.
what place or what country ye wish to
ye
where you wish to stay, bid him descend, and then turn
come
another pin,for there lies the effect of all the contrivance,
And
And

he will down descend and do your will.

in that placehe will abid" still,
Though all the world had the contrary swore,
He shall not thence be drawen

if you wish to bid him

to begone from
thence, turn this pin,and he will immediately vanish out of the
of person, and come
again, be it day or
sight of every kmd
I
as
night,when you please to call him again, in such manner
shall tellyou, and that full soon, betwixt ourselves :

nor

be

carried

Or

Bid when you lust,

there is no more
to do."
of
the
the
Informed
when
knight,
king was
And
had conceived in his wit aright
The manner
and the form of all this thing,
Full i^lad
and blithe this noble doughty king
Repaireth to his revel as befom.
The bridle is unto the tower ybome,

his pleasantand
and kept among
dear
in what manner
vanished
out of their sight,
I leave in jollity
Thus
and mirth Cambuscan
until that
Well

nigh the day began

THE
The

nurse

of

SECOND

to

jewels.

The

I know

not.

spring.

PART.

digestion,the

bade of him take keep

mirths and labOur will have his rest ;
And
with a gaping mouth
he them all kessed,^
time to lien down,
And said,that it was
For blood was
in his domination
:
to him

wink, and

Kissed.

"

"

feastinghis lords,

Sleep
'Gan
That

horse

THE
**

SQUIRE'S

TALE.

323

Cherisheth

blood,natCirfes friend,"quoth he.

They
him, gaping, by two and three
And every wight *gan draw him to his rest.
As sleepthem
bade ; they took it for the best.
thanken

Their dreamfes shall

Their

heads

not

now

be told for

me.

full of fumes, that cause

dreams
of no
sequence.
conuntil
for
the
it
full
most
was
They slept,
day,
part,
Can ace
had
only excepted. She
been, like women,
very
moderate
her leave of her father,in order
; for she had taken
to go
to rest, soon
after it was
evening. She did not desire
to grow
unfit for feasts.
pale, nor to appear on the morrow
She
were

kept her firsts sleep,and then awoke

For such a joy she in her hearth took
Both of her quaint^ring and her mirror,
That twenty timfe changed her coloiir ;

and

in her sleep,through the impressionof her mirror, she had

the sun
Wherefore
a vision.
ere
began to glide upwards, she
calleth upon
her mistress beside her, and said she wished
to

get up.
These oldfe women
that be gladlywise,
As is their mistress,answered her anon.
And said," Madamfe, whither would ye gone
Thus early? for the folk be all in rest.*'
"
I will,*'
quoth she,"arisen, for me lest*
No longer for to sleep,and walk about."
Her
And

up

mistress

women
clepeth*

they risen,a

either

ten

Up

riseth freshfeCanac^

As

ruddy and bright as

great rout,
twelve.

herselve.
youngfe Sun

is the

That in 'the Ram^ is ten degrees)n-un ;

he when
she ready was
No higher was
;
walketh
forth
she
And

for the pleasant and

easily,a short distance,arrayedfittingly
sweet

season,
for
Lightfely

with

only five

trench* in the
The vapour
broad
seem

or

to

play,and

six of her

walk

on

foot,

attendants,and

forth she goes in

park.

the
the earth maketh
that glided from
and ruddy ; but nevertheless, it was
so
spectaclethat it made all their hearts grow lighter,
"

"

Calleth.
*Or narrow

Desire.
The constellation,
2

valley.

sun

fair

to
a

TALES,

CANTERBURY

324

for the season, what for the morning,

for the fowl^s that she heard^ sing
For rightanon
she wistfe what they meant
Right by their song, and knew all their intent.
The knotty* why that every tale is told,
If that it be tarried till lust^ be cold

What
And

that have

of them

hankered

after it a

long time,

savour
passethever longerthe more
of the prolixity
For fulsomeness
;
this
thinketh me
sam^
And by
reason
I should^ to the knottfe condescend.
end.
And
of her walking soon
maken
an
white as chalk,
Amidst
as
a tree, for-dry,'*

The

As

Canacfe

her Walk,
her head full high,

playing in

was

There sat a falcon over

That with a piteousvoice began to cry.
of her cry ;
That all the wood resounded
Beaten had she herself so piteously
With both her wing^s,tillthe reddfe blood
Ran endMong the tree, there as she stood ;

she constantly shrieked and cried,and with

her beak
so
plucked herself,that there is no tigernor cruel
have wept, if he
beast that dwelleth in forest or wood but must

And

the

ever

could

same

weep,
For

No

man

ever

of another

so

of

sorrow

her,she

lived who

could

shriek'd

alway

well describe

loud.

so

that heard
falcon,

fair,

As well of plumage,as of gentleness.

Of shape,of all that might yreckoned be
seemed
A falcon peregrinfe
she

of

foreignland

and ever
she stood
as
and now
She swoonfed now
for lack of blood,
Till well nigh is she fallen from the tree.
This fair6 kingfes
daughter,Canacfe,
That on her fingerbare the quaint^ring,

Through

which

she understood

well every

thing

could answer
that any bird may
say in his language,and
in his language again, hath understood
what
the falcon
and she almost died for pity.
"

The

knotte

objectof every
2

means

the nucleus"

the kernel

"

^th"essentii^l
matter

tale,

Pleasure.

"

him
said

Very dry.

or

THE

SQUIRE'S

TALE.

325

she go'th fiillhastily,

this falcon looketh piteously,
held her lap abroad,for well she wist
fallen from the twist
fsilcon must^
When
that it swooned
next, for lack of blood.

And

to the tree

And
And
The

on

to waiten her she stood,

the last she spake in this mann^re
the hawk, as ye shall after hear.

longfewhile

Till

at

Unto
"

is the cause, if it may

of hell ? " quoth Canace

be

What

pain

"

Is this for

For
That

unto

of

sorrow

told,that

as

the hawk.

death,or

I trow, these be the

be in this furious

ye

ellfeslove ?
two

causes

most
causen
a gentlehearts woe.
Of other harm it needeth not to speak,

for ye yourselftake vengeance

yourself; which proveth
upon
be the cause
well that either ire or dread
of your cruelty,
must
other
the
since I see
chase
For
love of God, show
no
you.
favour unto
yourself;
Or
Ne

what
saw

be your

may
I

never

ere

help ?

now

no

That farfedwith himself

so

for west

bird

nor

beast,

ne

piteously.
verily.

with your sorrow

Ye slay me
I have of you so great compassion.
love come
from the tree adown
For Godd^s
And as I am
a king^s daughtertrue.
If that I verilythe caus^ knew
Of your disease,if it lay in my might
I would

amend

it

ere

east

that it

were

night.

As wisely help me
greatfeGod of kind.
And herbfes shall I rightenough yfind,

with

which

to

speedilyyour
than ever,
piteously

heal

falcon yet more

and lieth in a swoon
hath taken her in her
she

had

started

out

dead

hurt.''
and

Then

anon

lieth a

shrieked

fell to the

the

ground,

And

Canace
lap until she began to awake ; and after
of her swoon, she said thus,in her hawk's
as

as

stone.

language,
pityrunneth soon in gentleheart*
(Feeling his similitude in painfes
smart)
Is provfedallfeday, as men
may
see.
As well by work as by authority.
For gentle hearth keepeth gentleness.
"

Chaucer's

That

favourite

line.

He

differentworks,as Prof. Skeat says.

repeats it five

or

six times in his

326

TALES.

CANTERBURY
I

well that ye have

see

Compassion, my

fair^

on

my

distress

Canac^,

Of very womanly beni^ity,

hath
That nature
in your principles

set

fare the better,but in order to obey your

I will
iree heart,and
others beware
to make
by me,
whilst she told her sorrows,
confess my
harm."
And
even
Canace
wept as she would dissolve to water, until the Falcon
bade her be stilly
and with a sieh she thus said to her :
Not

for any

hope

to

...

"

There
I was
bred (alas,
that ilkfeday !)
And foster'd in a rock of marble grey
that nothingailM me.
So tenderly,
I ne wist not what was
adversity
Till I could flee full high und^r the sky.
Then dwell'd a tercMet me
fastfeby,
That seemM
well of all6 gentleness.
and falseness,
All were
he full of treason
It was
humble
cheer,
so wrapped under
And

under

Under
That

hue

of truth in such

mann^re.

under

pleasince,and

busy pain,
that he couldfe feign.
wight weenM
So deep in grain he died his colours.
Right as a serpent hides him under flowers,
no

Till he may

see

his timfe for to bite.

Just so this hypocrite of the god of love doth his observances

and his ceremonies,
Under
subtle colours and Acquaintance
That soundeth unto gentlenessof love.
is all there fair above,
is the corjjse, which that ye wot ;
both cold and hot.
Such was this hypocrite,
his intent.
he
And in this wise
servM
wistfe what he meant
none
That, save the fiend,
Till he so long had weepfed and complaint.
As

on

And

tomb

under

his service to me
a year
feignfed.
many
Till that mine heart,too piteous,and too nice,
All innocent of his cru^l malice.
For fear eke of his death,as thoughts mc,
Upon his oath^s and his surety.
Granted him love,on this condifioun.
And

both

in

That

evermore

Were

savfed

privateand

mine

in

honour

and

renown

public

This is to say, that,after his desert,

I gave him all mine heart,and all my

(and God

and he

know^ in other

ways,

thought,

nothing ;)

THE

but

truly is it said, many

and

327

change of mine

took his heart in

And

TALE.

SQUIRKS

true

wight

should

their

since.

is gone

day

for aye ;

alike.

thief think not

the thing-so far ygone

And when he saw
love
That I had granted him fully
my
In such a guise as I have said above,
And given him my true heart as free
that he gave his heart to me.
As he swore
full of doubleness,
this tiger,
Fell on his knees with so great d^voutness,
With so high reverence, as by his cheer,
So like a gentlelover of mann^re,

Anon

ravished,as it seem^d^, for joy,

That never
Jason,ne Pares of Troy"

So

Jason

other man,
that alderfirst'began

? certes,ne

never

Since Lamech
was,
To loven two, as written folk beforn,"-*
was
born,
since the firstsman
Ne never
Ne could^ man, by twenty thousand
part,
Counterfeit the sophem^s of his art,
"

nor

worthy

were

feigningapproach

of

doubleness
thank one

as

paintedhe

shoe
his ;

he did me
for to

heaven
she
were

His manner
was
To any woman,
so

his

unbuckle

to

never

nor

they

could

nor

so

:
see
so

wise

As well his wordfcs,

as his countenance.
for
his obeisdnce,
And I so lov*d him
in his heart,
And for the truth I deemed
that anything him smart.
That if so were
and I it wist.
it never
All were
so
little,
Me thought I felt death at mine heartfe twist.
far forth this thing is went,
And
so
shortly,
his will^s instrument ;
That my will was
This is to say, my will obeyed his will
In all^ thing,
as

far

as

worship.
as

him

reason

permitted,that kept

Nor

dear

; nor

had
ever

ever

thing so

shall have

ever
nor

bounds
dearer,God
the

of my
knows,

more.

lasted longerthan a year or two,

That I supposed of him nought but good.
thus at the last it stood,
But finally,
That fortune would^ that he must^ twinne*
in,
which that I was
Out of the placfe,

This
'

First of all,

"

As

folk write of old timct

"

Depart,

TALES.

CANTERBURY

328
Whe'r^

it is no

woe,

was

me

question;

of it description.
I cannot
I tellen boldly,
dare
thing
For one
the
is
pain of death thereby,
what
I know
he might not believe.
that
I felt
harm
What
his leave.
took
he
So on a day of me
ween'd
verily
I
So sorrowful eke, that
make

felt as muchel harm as 1,

his hue
that I heard him speak and saw
When
Butnathfeless,I thought he was so true,
eke that he repairenshould again
he had

That

And

sooth to sam
;"
littlewhilfe,
he mustfe go
that
eke
would
reason
his honour, as oft it happeth so.

Within
And
For

virtue of necessity.
took it well,since that it mustfe be.
best might, I hid from him my sorrow,
to borrow,
took him by the hand, Saint John
"
Lo, I am yourfesall,
saidijthus :
such as I have been to you and shall.
What
he answ^r'd,it needeth not rehearse ;
;
who can do worse
Who
can
say bet' than he,
he done
hath
;
then
well
all
hath
said,
he
When
I made

Then
And
As I
And
And
Both

full long spoon

a
to have
it behoveth one
said.
with a fiend : thus have I heard

therefore
eat

forth his way :

So at the last,he must^
there him
forth he fleeth,tillhe come
And
for to rest,
him
it came
When
to purpose

lest,

I trow he haddfe thilkfe text in mind.

That allfething repairingto his kind
I guess
himself
as
Gladdeth
; thus say men,
Men loven of kindfe newfefangleness.
in cages feed.
As birdfes do that men
For though thou night and day take of them

And

strew

And

^ivethem

Yet

He

with

And
So

sugar,

right anon
to

And

No

is up.

the wood

he

loven

be

novelties

gentlenessof

eat
will,and worm^s
they of their meat.

of proper

blood

ne

may

kind

He

^1

goodly
saw

Jj^^^r^^/*-

pledge

of

the

truth

upon
'

for to
a

them

So fared this tercMet, alas the

Though he were
gentle born, and
And

his cup,

his feet will spurnfe down

new-fangled

'

soft

that his door

as

heed,
silk,
as
honey, bread,and milk,

cagfefair and

their

that shall

day

bind.
!

fresh,and gay,

humble, and free,

kit6 flee,

see, and

time

'^^^^ ^s to
say, to
of her asseverations.

borrow

the

^It

saint's

name

pleasedhim.

in

THE

TALE.

SQUIRE'S

329

lov'd this 4cit^ so,

all his love is clean from me a^o'
And
hath his truths fals^d in this wise.
Thus hath the kite my love in her servlse,
And
I am
lorn withouten remedy."

su44enly he

And

That

'}

that word the Falcon

began to cry, and swooneth
for the hawk's
the sorrow
again in Canace's lap. Great was
not
harm
made
and all her women.
They knew
by Canace
her
beareth
how
But
Canace
the
falcon.
they might gladden
home
in her lap, and
began to wrap her softly in plasters
herself.
with her beak
hurt
where
she had
And
but
Canace
cannot
now
dig herbs out of the ground,
and
make
salves of herbs, preciousand fine of hue, to
new
heal the hawk.
From
day to night she busies herself with all
and
And
her might.
a
mew,
by her bed's head she made
And

with

covered

it with blue
In

velvet,

truth that is in woman

seen.
all without
the mew
is paintedgreen.
In which were
paintedall these fals^ fowls
As be these tidifes,
and owls ;
tercelettes,
And pies,on them for to cry and chide,
Right for despitewere paintedthem beside.

sign of

And

Thus

present
to

leave I Canace
speak of her

keeping her
ring tillit come

I will

hawk.

again

into

no

my

more

at

purpose

say

How

that this Falcon got her love

Repentant,as the story telleth us.

By
The

mediation

of

king^s son,

again

Camballus,
of which

But henceforth
I will hold my
and battles : such great marvels

that

course
were

I you
to

told^ ;

speak of

never

adventures

yet heard.

First will I tellen you of Cambuscan,

That in his timfe many
a citv wan.
of
after
will
I
And
speak Algarsife,
Theodora
How
that he won
to his wife,'
For whom
full oft in great pefflhe was,
N* had he been holp^n by the horse of brass.
And after will I speak of Camballo,
That fought in list^ with the brethren two*

Canacfe,ere

And

there I left I will

^

Agone.

"The

two

that he

For

brethren

are

might her win

again begin.

he is called Camballo.
lovers also of Canace.
presumablyunnamed

\Vhere

^'

tSO

CANTERBURY

REMARKS

^HERE

is

TALES,

THE

ON

SQUIRE'S
of

deal

TALE.

admiration

prevalent in the
critical world that would be well exchanged for a little
silent and
thoughtful study of the person
or
thing
admired.
easily explained but peculiarly
By an
great

irrational

the
criticism
refer to
to
we
ceases
process,
inquire into a great writer's excellences just as they grow
and of a higher and subtler quality;
and more
more
numerous
it be
with one
class of admirers
from sheer
and whether
as
"

"

the

inability grasp
almost
impatientsense
to

mighty subjects opened,

from

or

an

of the dif!iculty
of adding anything of
value to the endless stores
of commentary
and illustration before
result is merely to
poured out" as with another,the common
fresh
mischievous
and
as
as
as
unmeaning
heap up
epithets,
those that the satirist so good-humouredly laughed at in connection
with Shakspere,
whom
you,
the
Divine
Style

That
when

and

every

playhousebill,

the Matchless

"

"

what

you

mischievous
result must
this is a very
consider
chosen
best
words
that
the
we
of value so long as they call up to the mind

will.*

appear
or

evident

phrases

are

of the hearer or
them
will
reader the ideas that originally
suggested
; and none
off by frequent
the gloss of novelty has worn
do this when
will
then
mind
with so
the
as
repetition; they
merely occupy
of the
useless lumber, and help to exclude
the presence
much
intended
introduce.
ideas
to
they were
very
could not
those who
the two classes of admirers"
Between
of the
understand
and
whose
those
sense
Chaucer,
thoroughly
of worthily explainingwhat
they thought and felt for
diflficulty

only

their endeavours
slacken
to
*
worthilythmk and feel the poet of the Canterbury Tales 'has
the existence of the first
suffered grievous wrong
; and while
been
be
class might have
and may for the most
anticipated,
of
it
the
the
does
some
second, includingas
disregarded

him

has

them

made
apparently
"

"

but
in English literature,
cannot
highest names
suggest to us
the importance of gettingrid of all mere
declamatory criticism,
reverential the shape it assumes,
and demanding from
however

all who
praiseas well
faith that is in them.
we

stillmore.
We
have
to

as

In

from
so

all who

doing

already (in former

admire

Chaucer,
*

condemn
they would

pages) seen
and

what

reasons

learn
how

for the

much, and

Dryden

fessed
pro-

practical results his

of Horace,'EpistleI.
Pope-i" Imitationgf

THE

admiration

brought with it. We

now

give pointto the foregoingremarks

the treatment
the Squire's
Tale
of finer poetical nature
than
most

judiciousas

admirers.

It is
Dan

and who

well

as

Spenser

Then
That

does

Edmund

has

331

propose to endeavour
by a brief consideration
received

Dryden"

of

to

of

from

might

its most
enthusiastic
who speaks of

Chaucer, well

writes these

TALE.

SQUIRE'S

those who
its
have been
illustrious
and
"

EnglishundefilM,
lines in the

charming

Fairy Queen

'

"

I
pardon,O most sacred happy spirit
labours
lost
thus
revive,
thy
may
And steal from thee the meed
of thy due merit,
That none
whilst thou wast alive,
durst ever
And, being dead,in vain yet many strive ;
Ne dare I like ; but, through infusion sweet.
Of thine own
which
doth in me
spirit
survive,
I follow here the footingof thy feet,
That with thy meaning so I may the rather meet.

And

how

Spenser fulfila projectso full of hopefulness?

Let us
see.
Chaucer, as though half anticipating
mutilation
of the poem,
has given us
the non-completion,
or
of the most
one
showing iy what
explanatoryof finger-posts,
direction any

one

of his

In

poem,

feet.
Chaucer

must

the

move

who

would

**

concluding passage

follow the footing"

of the incomplete

says,

First I will tellen you

That in his timfe many

But Spenser will do no

such
tale he says nothing.
Chaucer
then continues

of
a

Cambuscan,
citywan ;

thing;

of the

chief hero

of the

"

And

How
For
Ne

speak of Algarsife
that he won
Theodora
to his wife,
whom
full oft in great perilhe was,
had he been holpin
by the horse of brass.
after will I

Of this matter
again,the horse being the chief of the material
of
the
agencies
story, Spenser says nothing.
Chaucer

goes
And

That
For

on

"

after will I

speak of Camballo,

fought in listfeswith
Canace, ere

that he

the brethren

might

her

two

win,

in other words, ere the latter might extricate her from some
danger into which she had fallen;or probablyfrom two unnamed
lovers of Canace, as we have already suggested.This is the sole
pointwith which Spenser troubles himself,and as far as his
or

CANTERBURY

334

TALES.

avowed
objectand Chaucer's reputationis concerned (we must
be thoroughlyunderstood
remarks
to stretch a
not to extend our
hair's-breadth further),
it is impossible,
we
think,to compliment
him upon what he has done with it. The mere
isolation of a fragment
of a buildingfrom the work of so consummate
architect as
an
Chaucer, and the unnatural development of that fragment into
a
something as big as the whole was intended to have been,
of Spenser's
act sufficient in itself to prevent all chance
was
an
with
his " meanin
ing."
or
treading Chaucer's footsteps,
"meeting"
But that is not all. The
brethren become
two
three,
known
of
Chaucerian
the
Diamond, Triamond,
names
by
very unand Priamond,and it is they who win Canace
from her brother,
he
wins
her
from
them.
not
who
Camballo,
Nor
it be denied that even
in the execution of this precan
sumed
is
Chaucer's
smallest
not
of
there
semblance
rethe
design
part
'
The
of the
to Chaucer.
tone
Fairy Queen is
*
utterlyunlike the tone of the
Squire'sTale,' though both
deal in similar subjects.Beautiful and aerial as is the world
into which
the one
takes you, it is so unlike in every respect
the world you leave behind, that the inexperiencedsenses
fuse
reto perform their office with their usual vigour and
cision
preaffects
to envelop every object; the whole
; a haze seems
of unreality: the world of the other,on the
you with a sense
all but the same
after
world, for you never
long
contrary, seems
lose the feel of the firm earth,and, as in the old fable,both
constantly to derive fresh strength and
poet and reader seem
*

In a word, Spenser's
that very circumstance.
built
in
of natural
measure
though
a
great
romance,
up
is
materials,is a highly artificialcreation ; Chaucer's romance

buoyancy

from

He
loves to reveal to you
thousand fresh
a
thousand
romantic
loveliness
to you
to open
a
phases
beautiful and mysterious paths leadingyou know
not whither,
but through some
of which he becomes
guide : alas, that
your
of them
so
through which he had intended to take us
many
should now
remain for ever
unexplored!
Let us here compare
descriptionof the three lovers
Spenser's
of Canace
with Chaucei^s
portraitof the Squire himself,who
tells the tale :"
Nature's

own.

of

"

Spenser.

Amongst

those knightsthere were

three brethren
bolder brethren never
were
yborn,
mother in one happy mould,
one
Born
burden in one happymorn
at one
;
Thrice happy mother, and thnce happy morn,
That bore three such,three such not to be fond

Three
Born of

-}

Found.

bold,

THE
Her name
All three as
The second

TALE,

SQUIRES

333

whose children wern

first
the
one
;
hightPriamond,
Diamond, the youngest Triamond.

Agape,

was

Stout

Priamond, but not

StrongDiamond, but

so

not

strong
so

to strike

stout

knight ;

But Triamond
stout and strong alike
was
On horseback used Triamond
to fight;

And

foot had more

Priamond
on
;
delight
But horse and foot knew
Diamond
to wield :
With curtaxe
used Diamond
to smite,
And Triamond
to handle spear and shield,
But spear and curtaxe
in field.
both used Priamond

These

three did love each other dearlywell,

And with so firm affection were
allied
As if but one
soul in them all did dwell.
Which
did her power
into ihree parts divide ;
Like three fair branches budding far and wide,
That from one root derived their vital sap ;
And like that root, that doth her life divide,
Their mother
was
; and had full blessed bap
These three so noble babes to bring forth at one clap.
Chaucer.
There

was

his

son.

Squidr,

young

A lover and a lustyoachelor.

With lock^s curl'd as they were
laid in press.
Of twenty year he was
of age, I guess.
Of his stattire he was
of even
length.
And

and ^eat
wonderly deliver,'

And

he had been

some

time

In Flanders,in Artois,and

of

strength.

chevachie^

Picardy;

And borne him well,as in so little space,

In hope to standen in his lady'sgrace.
Embroidered
was
he, as it were a mead,
All full of freshfeflow*res,
white and red.
all the day :
he
or
fluting
Singing was,
the
He was
month
is
of May.
fresh
as
as
Short was
his gown, with sleeves long and wide.
Well could he sit on horse,and faire ride.
He could^ songfeswell make, and indite.
eke dance,and well pourtray and write.
So hot he lovfed,
that by nightertale'
He slept
than doth a nightingale.
no
more
Courteous
he was, lowly,and servicedble.
And carv'd before his father at the table.

Joust,and

both
these
How
?
unlike
utterly

Are
not
*

not

Active,nimble.

passages

dreamy
"

beautiful?
are
they
very
is the one, how full of waking,

militaryexpedition.

"

Night-time.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

334

be flesh and blood beneath

robust lifethe other ! There may
those three gracefulbut somewhat
shadowy forms, but as to
We
know
smile.
Chaucer^s Squire the very doubt makes
one
his personal every-day acquaintances.
him as well as if we were
him to us after a momenOn
that
the
restores
tary
to
turning
page
absence, we perceivehim to be as surelypresent as if the
"

warm

of his hand had not yet past from our own.

in the
of all the passages
remarkable
the most
*
is that in which Spenser says of the
Squire's

pressure

But

perhaps
Fairy Queen

'

Tale*"
But

wicked

And

works

That

Time,

that all good

thoughts doth waste,

naught outwear,
quitedefaced.

of noblest wits to

famous

hath

monument

know
We
not, but perhaps may
solve another problem
when
can
we
namely, why these
lines from the * Franklin's Tale '
What

does

this

mean

"

learn

lovely

Chaucer.
Love
When

vnll not be constrained by

mastery cometh, the God
his

Beateth
were

wings, and

altered into the

mastery !
of Love

he is gone
farewell,

anon

followingby
Spenser.

Ne

Love

may

For, soon
Taketh

We

must

as

be

his nimble

give yet

compelled by mastery,

mastery comes,

wings^and

Love

sweet
soon

away

anon

is gone

another

substitution of habitual
founder of our literature.

illustration of the effects of the

praisefor habitual study of the great
That

the

Squire'sTale,'unfinished

it is,is a poem
unequalledin its kind, that it is,in feeling,
the most
in effect,
and
almost
perfect of compositions,
power,
all
which
notwithstanding its incompleteness, are facts upon
been
have
minds
how
then
it
is
of
that
long
agreed ;
poetic
this tale,not one, so far as we
who have written upon
the many
exhibited
has
the
that
ever
are
slightestconsciousness
aware,
in this broken coronal of preciousgems
there is enshrined
even
stillcostlier
the
of
the
Falcon
?
where
We
have elseone"
a
Story
*
Tales
pointed out that Mr. Cowden
Clarke,in his prose
"
If the whole of this portionof the
from Chaucer,'observes
ing
story weretransposedinto prose, it would, I fear,
prove uninterestand
reader. The originalis clothed in nervous
to the young
and
future time,amply reward the
will,at some
beautiful
verse,
the not arduous
youthful,imaginativemind, that has overcome
as

"

"

THE

SQUIRE'S

TALE.

33$

obsolete
comprehending freely the quaint and unfortunately
dialect of this very great and beautiful poet.**Later,
of Chaucer,' in their own
while giving the poetical Riches
proving to
poeticalshape, to the public,and thus practically
toil of

gratefulreader that their " dialect " was

anythingbut
**
obsolete,"Mr. Clarke writes upon this same
portion of the
*
Sauire's Tale,' " The deserted fair one being somewhat
prolix,
withal not
ana
interestingin her complaint, we will,with the
a

many

Now
reader's consent, pass on to the conclusion of the Tale."
be excused, if we
not
must
only preferthe earlier to the
we
in question, but add that,in our
later estimate of the passage
''
is but the medium
and beautiful verse
opinion," the nervous

is conveyed the
through which
scfiptionever given to the world

most

exquisitely
patheticde-

of a devoted and unrequited

kind that can
similar
know
of
be even
a
nothing
compared with it. There are singlelines in this complaint(so
and neglected)that express more
marvellously misunderstood
than many
books that have taken the same
subject for their
such line
theme.
Here is one

love.

We

"

My

will became

his will^s instrument.

One would have thought it would have been impossibleto have

read the first half-dozen lines without seeing that it is no bird,
of the most
but one
beingsthat has been
trustingof human
deceived ; and that the transmigrationinto the falcon is but a
part of the fairymachinery of the tale,and probably only a

temporarytransformation.
Since this passage was
the best of Chaucerian
that the " falcon

have learnt that Leigh Hunt,

we
written,
had before pointedout the probacritics,
bility
was
a human
being in a temporary state

of metamorphosis, a circumstance
in tales of
very common
with
and
heart
the East ; " but even
an
ever
he,
eye
open to the
subtlest of poetic beauties,has nothing more
to say upon
this
of
tale.
for
the
Let
recall
a
moment
portion
us, however,
of its passages ; let us forget the bird,and think it is
some
human
heart cryingout from the depth of its anguish,and
some
tellingits whole story to a listener who is ready to share and if
alleviate its griefs; let us, in a word, understand
that
possible
the daughter haply of some
It is a woman,
prince or king,*who
says
There I was
bred
alas that ilkfeday
And fostered in a home of marble grey
So tenderly
that nothingailfedme.
"

I
1

ne

Prof. Brandl

wist not, what

tried to

"

adversity.

was
'

show, in EnglischeStudien,'1888,that she

step-daughterof John of Gaunt, but Mr. Kittredgehas proved
this solution of the problem impossibly.'Eng. Stud. 1889.
was

'

336
Let

CANTERBURY

also understand

us

TALES,

human

the true

character

of hhn

who

dwelled
fastfeby ,
me
well of alld gentleness,
All were
and falseness,
he fiillof treason
It was
humble
so wrapped under
cheer,
And under hue of truth in such mannere.
Under
and under busy pain,
pleasdnce,
That

(or trouble

seemed

her),

to serve

That

wight could have

grain he dySd

no

in

So

deep
Right as

feign,

serpent hides him

Till he may

The

ween'd he could^
his colours,

see

under flowers.
his timfe for to bite.

simple,credulous,unsuspectingheart
piteousand

too

All innocent

malice^

fearfeof his death

For

granted him

nice,

too

of his cruil

he

the love

sought. And

then

This tigerfull of doubleness

Fell on his knees with so great d^voutness,
With so high reverence, as by his cheer,*
So like a gentlelover by mann^re,
So ravish'd as it seemM
for the joy

that
His

To

How
"

she,

manner

any

was

woman

could such
so far
That my

be

one

heaven

were

will

she

for to

see

never

so

loved

too

wise.
well }

"

Shortly,"says

this thing is went

his willis instrument,**

was

all goes well.

But a time comes
that he
year or two
It
is
what
her
her.
But
leave
no
was
sorrow.
must
question
his hue, and heard his words, she believed he
she
when
saw
consoled
her.
felt as much
as
herself,and that somewhat
for his honour
to
Then, too, she reasoned that it was necessary
would
she
that
he
made
but
So
virtue
return.
soon
a
go away,
I best might," she says, " I hid from
him
of necessity. " As
him
hand
the
said
at
by
parting^
sorrow," and, taking
my
For

"

Lo,

am

yourfesall,

I have been to you, and shall.

What
he answ^r'd it needeth not rehearse,
Who can say bet' than he^who can do worse^
When
he hath all well said^then hath he done**

Both

such

w^s

As

as

exhibited

by his cheer

or

behaviour.

THE

He

SQUIRES

forgets her

departs

"

TALE,

(the old

and

"

337

story),

loves

another.

finallyhere ? One might have

supposed so, from the strange neglect with which this part has
been treated,and from the very general misapprehension that
exists as to its being merely a bird's historythat is narrated ?
On
the contrary, the poet expressly tells us that he shall have
Does

leave the Tale

Chaucer

to say

that this falcon gat her love

Repentant as the story telleth us,

How

mediation

By
The

of

again,

Camballus,

kingfesson.

of
commission
or
eminent
omission
Chaucer*s
most
on
admirers, we
voured
cannot
but perceive the existence of the error
have endeawe
much
little
talk about Chaucer
to point out
too
too
that
also
We
add
the
consideration
him.
of
same
study
may
significancyto Milton's words, and that if we
helps to give new

Surely, as

consider

we

all

these

acts

the part of

"

"

to

are

have

the

must

indeed

that themselves
help to support the
to develop in these remarks, for even

point we

Squire'sTale

'

completed, we

ever

Call up him that left half told

bold
The story of Cambtiscan

lines,by the

way,

Milton
have endeavoured
should
unaltered as we
could not leave Chaucer
expect to see
becomes
of his admirers
here
Milton left by one
: Cambuscdn
with
of
the
no
improvement
original,
changed to Cambuscan,
in the
is
for
which
Cambjmskan,
spelt
manuscripts
Genghis
Polo's * Travels,'whence
the * Squire'sTale ' is
Khan, in Marco
Press ;
partlytaken : see Prof. Skeat's edition for the Clarendon
volumes
for
other
tales
too.
and consult his two
John Lane's
of the * Squire'sTale ' (a.d.
and wordy continuation
cumbrous
for the Chaucer
Societyby
at press a sketch of most
of the analogues of the Tale, especiallyof the French
romance
have
and
Chaucer
of
which
ot
known,
Cleomades^
may
parts of
which the Chevalier de la Chatelaine
some
years ago published

1616, revised

Dr.

an

Furnivall

1630) has been

; and

Mr.

edited

Clouston

has

translation.
English verse
friend of Milton's father, and
a
John Lane was

verses

to

one

another.

they

wrote

To
And

many
his

He

for

she

For

and

from
sprang
durst
hardly
Tell

her

But

took

who

his

woe,

his

his

and

pain,

have
the

their

over

and

husband

her

And

wives.

Of

his

That
would

he

would

he

follow

her

will

free

he

hath

caught

agreed

with

him
upon
himself

take
show

such

great

so

him

to

lordship

that

as

might

they

take
men

live

will

all

in

things

avoid

to

to

Ye

weie

to

to

proffer
God

that

either

Sir,

I will

Have

here

Thus

be

Undertaking.

so

your

both

they
*

him

and

her, and
his lady.

obey
do

to

would
with

neither

have
full

the

great

gentleness

large

humble

truth,

my

will

rein,

two,

us

through

my

guilt,

strife.

or

be

may
rank,^ he

his

betwixt

never

war

lover

any

of your

have

to

me

but

jealous,

thanked

She

night,

nor

against her

as

as

shame

"

would

her

knight,

as

by day
mastery

any

of

"

of

"

her,

swore

sovereignty.
"
humility, said,
Sir, since

distress.

order

in

will

in his

never

that

Except

theie

for

knight

blissful,

more

name

lord

her

this

worthiness,

obedience,
especially for his meek
pity of his suffering, that privately she
for

d, that

and

him

was

pains

great

sun

kindre

for

last she

under

fairest

high

so

his

the

at

the

one,

was

also

dread

there

Bretagne,

lady in his bestfe wise ;

a
a
labour, many
great emprise,
she
were
ere
lady wrought
won,

serve

called
and

loved,

who

knight

is

that

Armorica,

TALE.

FRANKLIN^S

THE

"

For

in

trug

till that

quiet

chame

wife.

mine
and

in

of his

hearth

brest."*

rest.

degree."

"

Burst.

ThM. PkANKLlirS
One thing,sirs,I dare
must
long hold company,

fAlE.

J39

if
that friends,
other.

safelysay,
obey each

they would

Love will not be constrain 'd by mastery ;

When
mastery cometh, the god of love anon
Beateth his wings,and, farewell,
he is gone
Love is a thing,
free.
as any
spirit,
of kind* desiren liberty.
Women
And not to be constraint
as a thrall ;
And so do men, if I the sooth say shall.
Look, who that is most patientin love ;
He is at his advantageall above.

is

Patience

certainlya high virtue

; for

it

vanquisheth,as

these clerks say,

Learn to
will or no

Thing^sthatrigournever

should

For every word

not

suffer,
or,

so

men

may

attain.

chide

ne

'plain.

I gone^ ye shall learn

may

it whether ye

For in this world ccrtdin

That he ne doth or saith

wight there is

no
some

time amiss.

or constellation.
Ir^,sickness,
Wine, woe, or changingof complexion'
Causeth full oft to do amiss or speaken :

On

men

every wrong

may

According to the time, every

self-government. And
possesses
worthy knight,in order to live in

not

be

wreaken.

be temperate who
therefore hath this wise and
ease, promised her sufferance.
one

must

And she to him full wisely*ganto swear.

That never
should there be default in her.
Here may men
humble
wise accord :
see
an
Thus hath she take her servant and her lord,
Ser\'ant in love,and lord in marriage.
and serv^e ?
Then
he both in lordship
was
Servige1 nay, but in lordshipall above,
Since he hath both his ladyand his love :
His ladycertes,and his wife als6,
The which that law of love accordeth to.
And when he was
in this prosperity,
Home
with his wife he go'th to his country,
Not far from Penmark, Sierehis dwellingwas,
Whereas he liveth in bliss and in solice,
Who
couldfe tell (buthe had wedded
be")
The joy,the ease, and the prosperity
and his wife ?
That is betwixt a husband
*

By

nature.

"

Aspect,behaviour.
20

*Been.

fAlMi.

tANTERBURY

346

; until the
year and more
called Arviragus, prepared
knight of which I speak,who was
himself to go and dwell a year or two in England, that was also
arms
(for all
m
called Bretagne, to seek worship and honour
dwelt
he
there
and
such labour),
set
his
on

This

blissful existence

lasteth

pleasure was

two

years

thus saith the book.

will I stint of this Arviragus,

And speak I will of Dorigcn his wife,
That loveth her husband
as her heartes life.
And for his absence weepeth she and sigheth,
liketh.
them
As do these noble wivfes when
fasteth,
'plaineth,
She mourneth, waketh, waileth,
distraineth^
her
Desire of his presence
so
That all this widfe world she set at nought.
her heavy thought
Her friend^s,which that knew
Now

her in all that e'er they may

;
and
her
tell
night
preachen her,they
alas !
herself,
causfeless she slay'th

Comf6rted

They
That

day

in this case
every comfort possible
their
with
all
business,
do
to
her,
They
her leave her heaviness.
And all to make
every one.
By process, as ye knowen
in the stone
Men
so long^ graven
may

And

Till

fig6retherein imprintedbe

some

So long have they comforted her, that she

Received hath,by hope and by reason.
The imprintingof their consolation,
sorrow
'gan assuage
Through which her greatfe
She may not alway 'duren in such rage.
And eke Arviragus,in all this care.
of his welfare,
Hath sent his letters home

that he would come

hastilyagain.
hearth slain.
this
had
her
elles
Or
sorrow
her
heartfe
Her friendfes saw
'gan to slake,
And prayM her on knees,for Goddfes sake,
and roamen
in their company.
To come
drive
her
darkfe
to
fantasy:
Away
she
And, finally, granted that request.
that it was
for the best.
For well she saw
stood her castle fast^ by the
Now
sea.
And often with her friend^s walkM
she,

And

to

and

amuse

herself

the

on

high bank, where

she

saw

many

barge
their
Sailing,
But

yet

was

course,

there

where

as

them

parcelof her

woe

lust to go ;
:

Seizeth,takes possessionof.

ship

!tirEFRANKLIirS

TALE,

34

-^

For to herself fiilloften saidfe she,

"
Is there no ship,of so many
I see,
as
Will bringen home
lord
?
my

Then

were

my

heart healed

of all its bitter and

sore

pains.

Another time there would she sit and think,

And cast her eyen downward
from the brink ;
But when
she saw
the grislyrock^s blake,*
For very fear so would her hearts quake,
That on her feet she might not her sustain.
Then would she sit adown upon the green,
And piteouslyinto the sea behold,
And

say right thus, with sorrowful sightscold :

Eternal God ! that through thy purveyance
Leadest this world by certain governance
;
In idle,
men
so
:
say, ye nothing make
rockfes blake* I
But,Lord ! these grislyfiendly
rather a foul confusion
That seemen
Of work than any fair creation
Of such a perfect
wisfe God and stable ;
"

have ye wrought this work

unreasonable ?
For by this workfe south,north,east, and west,
There n' is yfoster'd
man, ne bird,ne beast ;

Why

It doth no good, to my wit,but annoyeth.

it destroyeth
See ye not, Lord ! how mankind
?
bodies
thousand
hundred
of
mankind
A
all be they not in mind.
Have rockfes slain,
mankind
is so fair part of thy work,
Which
hand work.
That thou it madest like to thine own
Then seemeth it ye had great charity
then
mankind
Toward
; but how
may it be
it
make
mean^s
such
to destroyen,
That ye
meanfes do no good,but ever
Which
?
annoyen

that
well, clerks will say as they please by arguments
know
I
cannot
the
But
that
all is fo the best, though
causes.
the wind to blow, now
God that made
preserve my lord : this is
I know

ray

God

conclusion

1 I leave all

that all these black

These
Thus

disputesto

rocks

were

would
clerks.
But
to
sunk into hell for his sake.

rock^s slaymine hearth for the fear."

would she say, with many
a piteoustear.

that it was
but a discomfort to
no
Her friends saw
diversion,
the
sea
her to roam
; so they arranged to play somewhere
by
else. They lead her by rivers and by springs,and also in othei

places.
delightful
They dancen, and they play at chess and tables.
tide
So on a day,rightin the morrow
there
that
Unto a garden
was
beside,
'

Black.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

34i

In which that they had made their ordinance

Of victaille and of other purveyance,
They go and play them all the long^ day ;
of May ;
And this was
the sixth morrow
on
Which May had paintedwith his softfeshowers,
This garden fall of leaves and of flowers ;

And

craft of mannas
hand
Array^ had this garden

so
curiously
tniely,
garden of such price,

That

there
never
was
the very Paradise.
if it were
odour of flow'r^ and the fresh^ sight
Would have made any pensivehearth light
That ever was bom, but if too great sickness
Or too great sorrow
held it in mstress,
So full It was
of beauty and pleasdnce.
And after dinner gonnen
they to dance
And sing also,save
Dorigen alone ;
She made alwiy her complaintand her moan,
him on the danc^ go
For she ne saw
and her love also.
That was
her husband
But nath^less she must
a time
abide,
And with good hope she let her sorrow
slide.
this
other
dance,among^s
Upon
men,
Danced a squi^rbefore Dorigen,
and jollier
of array,
That fresher was
of May.
As to my doom,^ than is the month
But
The

and danceth, passingany man

He singeth,
since that the world began.
That is or was
should him descrive,^
Therewith he was, if men
the
bestfe
of
alive ;
One
men
faring

Young, strong, rightvirtuous,and rich,and wise,

And well beloved,and holden in great prize.

shortly,if I shall tell the truth,this lustysquire,servant to

called Aurelius,hath loved Dorigen best of
Venus, who was
it happened, she knowing
two years and more,
as
any creature

And

nothing

at

all

ot

the

He

matter.

durst

never

tell her

what

grievedhim,
Withouten

He
was
somewhat

cup he drank

all his penance.

durst say
in despair. He
in his songs betrayhis woe
He said he lov'd,and
made
Of such^ matter

nothing;
in

kind

save

of

How
But

belov*d

that he durstfe not

he many
his

sorrow

as fury doth
languisheth,

Judgment,

tell,

in hell ;
a

would

plaining.
general com-

no
thing;
lays,
roundels,virelayes
Songfes,complaintfes,
;
was

he

Describe,

FRANKLIN'S

THE
And
For
In other

that

TALE.

die,he said,he must,

as

that durst not

Nircissus,

343

did Ech6
tell her

woe.

than this he durst not betray his grief,

except
where
sometimes
folk
at
perchance
dances,
keep up
young
manner

their customs,
It may well be, he lookM
her face.
on
that asketh grace.
such a wise, as man
But nothing wistfe she.of his intent.

In

Nevertheless, it happened before they departed,because he was

her neighbour,and a man
of honour and worship, and she had
known
him of old, they fell into speech ; and from
that time
Aurelius drew nearer
and nearer
And
when
he
to his purpose.
saw

his

time,he

said thus

"

"

"

Madame," quoth he, by God that this world

So that I wist it might your hearts glad,
I would that day that your Arviragus

made.

Went
the sea, that I Aurelius,
on
Had went^ that I should never
come
again ;
For well I wot my service is in vain.
My guerdon n* is but burstingof mine heart,
Mddam, ru^th upon my paintssmart,
For with a word ye may
me
slay or save.
Here

at your

foot,God

I have no
opportunityto
to die."
me
you will cause

that I

would

Have

more.

say

were

grave.*

Aurelius :
She 'gan to look upon
"
Is this your will (quoth she), and say ye thus
Never erst (quoth she), ne wist I what ye meant

Aurelie, I

But

now,

By

thilk^

Ne

shall I

God
never

know

your

sweet,

mercy,

?
:

intent,

that g^ve me
soul and
be an untrue
wife.

life,

As far as I have wit,

In word, ne work.
knit :
that I am
I will be his to whom
of
me."
Take this for final answer
as
But after that,in play,thus saidfe she :
"
Aurelie
(quoth she), by high God above.
Yet

will I granten you

(Since I you

see

so

to be

your

love,

piteouslycomplain)

Look"
what day that end"long Bretagne
all the rock^, stone by stone.
Ye remove
That they ne letten' ship ne boat to gone* ;
I say, when ye have made these coasts so clean
Of rockfes,
that there n' is no stone yseen,
1

Went

where,

-^Buried.

^Hinder.

*Go,

or

TALES.

CANTERBURY

344

Then

will I love you best of any man,

I can. "
Have here my truth,in all that ever
"
*'
Is there no other
grace in you ? quoth he,
"
Lord^
No, by that
(quoth she)," that madi me.
betide
For well I wot that that shall never

Let such

of your

follyout

hearts

glide."

this ; and he answered

Sore was
he heard
Aurelius when
with a sorrowful heart : " Madame,
this were
an
impossibility.
with that
I die suddenly a horrible death.** And
Then
must
word he turned away.
roamed
There came
of her other friends many
a one, and
up
and down
but
the alleys,
this
and knew
of
conclusion,
nothing

suddenly began
to revel new,
Till that the bright^sun had lost his hue,
For th' horiz"n had reft the sun his light;
(This is as much to say as it was night.
^
And
home they go in mirth and in solice ;
Save only wretched Aurelius,
alas 1
He to his house is gone with sorrowful heart.
he may not from his death astart.
He saith,
Him
seemeth that he felt his heartfe cold.
Up to the heaven his handfes 'gan he hold.
And on his knees bare he set him down,
And in his raving said his orisoun.

what
he went
of his senses.
out
He
knew
not
but
thus
he
said
With
heart
he
:
hath.
spake,
piteous
begun
the sun
to complain to the gods, and firstunto
:

For

very

woe

he

"

"

"

Apollo,god

and governor

Of every plante,herbfe,
tree,and flower,
that

giveth,in

who

am

accordance

with

to each of them
thy declination,
his season
and time,as that thy lodging-place
changeth low and
high" Lord Phoebus cast thy eye of mercy on wretched Aurelius,

but

lost.

"

Lo, lord,my lady hath my death ysworn

guilt,but*-^thy benignity
Upon my deadly heart have some
pity;
For well I wot, Lord
Phoebus, if you lest.
Ye may
me
helpen,save my lady,best.

Withouten

Now

that
vouchfesafe,

How

that I may
Your blissful

That
1

Note

of the

Chaucer's

sea

quiz of

I may

you devise
in what wise.
and
holp,
Lucina
the
sister,
sheen,
is chief goddess and queen,
be

**

poeticdiction."

Except.

THE

LI ITS

FRANK

TALE,

345

Though Neptunus

have deityin the sea,

him is she ;
" Ye
know
well,lord,that rightas her desire
Is to be quicked and lightedof your fire,
For which she followeth you full busily;
Right so the sea desireth naturally
To follow her,as she that is goddess
and less.
Both in the sea and rivers more

Yet emp^ress aboven

Phoebus, this is my

Wherefore, Lord
or

let my

heavenly

heart burst.
bodies in the

request

At

the very next

of
sign the Lion,

this miracle,
oppositionof the
:

do

pray her so great a flood to bring,

five fathom
at least it overspring
highestrock in Armoric Bretagne,

"

That
The

And let this flood enduren yearfestwain ;

Then
certes to my
lady may I say,
Holdeth

Lord
no

your

hest,^the

rockfes be away.

Phoebus, do this miracle for

faster in her

than

course

ye ;

Pray her that she go

me.
.

shall she be ever

Then
at full alway.
lasten bothfe nightand
And spring-flood

"

And

in such

but she vouchsafe

and dear lady,

to

manner

day.

grant

me

my

reign
sove-

*'

Prav her to sinken every rock adown

Into her owen
darkfe regioun
Under
the ground, there Pluto dwelleth
shall I my
Or never
more
ladywin.

Thy temple in Delphos will I

Lord
And
And
And

Phoebus

the tearfes

see

pain have

of my

with that word

long^ time he

some

in

swoon

in,

barefoot seek

my cheek,
compassi'oun."
he fell adown,
on

in

lay forth

trance.

brother, who knew of his suffering,

caught him
in
bed.
him
this
to
Despairing
brought
torment, and
thought,
His

Let I this woful creature lie,

he for me
whe'r* he wilt Irv^or die.
and great hoQ.6ui
with
heal*
Arviragus
that
he
of
was
(As
chivalrythe flower))
"

Choose

Is comen
home, and
O, blissful art thou
That

The
^

hast

other
now,

;
worthy men
Dorigen !i

thou

thy lustyhus"band in thine arms,

knight,the wprthy man of arm^,

freshfe

Promise.

"

Whether.

\ Health.

up, and

in

tl^i^

346

CANTERBURY

TALES.

heartfes life.
loveth thee as his own
he
imaginative
lust
be
to
Nothing
If any wi^ht had spoke (whilehe was
out)
To her of love ; he made thereof no doubt :

That

he attendeth
But

such

to no

matter,

and
danceth,jousteth,

And
thus in joy and
sick Aurelius.

bliss I let him

mak^th

good cheer.

dwell,and

will

speak of the

In languorand in furious torment

thus
Two
lay wretch Aurelius
years and more
Ere any foot on earth he mights gone ;
No comfort in this timi had he none,
Save of his brother,
which that was
a clerk ;
He knew of all this woe, and all this work ;

for

of the
durst he say a word
other creature
He bare it more
matter.
secretlyunder his breast than ever
did Pamphilus his love for Galatea.
whole to
His breast was
And
outward
ye
aspect, but in his heart lay the keen arrow.
know
in surgery
well that such wounds
to
are
perilous cure,
unless men
touch or get at the arrow.
may
His brother weepeth and waileth in secret, until at last he
remembered
that while he was
in France, as young
at Orleans
clerks that be greedy to study curious arts, seek in every hole
and corner

certainlyto

no

Particular sciences for to learn ;

he
a

of

remembered, that upon a day in his study at Orleans he saw

of natural magic, which his companion, then a bachelor
had privily
law, although he was there to learn another craft,

book

left upon

his desk.
of operations,
This book spake much
Touching the eightand twenty mansions
That 'longento the moon,
and such folly
As in our dayfesn* is not worth a fly;
For holy church's faith,
believe*
in our
Ne suffreth no illusion us to grieve.
,

And

when
Anon
for

in r^membrancej
this bookfe was
joy his hearth 'gan to dance.

he said,"My
And
to himself, privily,
his sickness ; for I
from
recovered
make
divers
sciences,by which men
as

For

these subtle

am

sure

shows,

shall soon
that there
such

tregetourfes^
play.

oft at feastfeshave
1 Belief.

brother

I heardfe say
*

Jugglers,

be
be

FRANKLIirS

THE
That
Have

And

tregetours,within
madfe

347

hallfelarge,
and a barge,
up and down.
a

in water

come

in the hallferowen

Sometime
Sometime

TALE,

hath seemed come

a grim lyotin,
castle all of lime and stone;

And

when
all disappear immediately..
they like,they make
it to every man's sight.
Thus
seemetb
I conclude
old companion
Then
thus : if I might tind some
in rememof the moon
at Orleans, that hath
these mansions
brance,
Or

other magic natural above.

He should well make my brother have his love ;
For with an dpparence a clerk may
make,
To mannas
sight,that all the rock^s blake*
Of Bretagne were
yvoidedevery one,
And
And

Then
needs
her."

were

brother

my

hold

the brink
form endure

shipp^sby
in such

her

might
a

year

and gone,

come
or

two

"

from his wo.

Then
must
she
else,at the least,he shall shame

recovered

promise, or

long tale of this ? Unto his brother's

bed he comes,
and gives him such comfort
to go
to Orleans,
that he started up anon, and set forth on his way, in hope to be
should

Why

relieved of his

I make

care.

the city,or within two

or
clerk roaming by himself,who
a young
them
i
n
after that,he said a
Latin.
And
greeted
thriftily
"
wondrous
of your
I know," quoth he, " the cause
thing.
them
all
And
told
foot
he
ere
coming."
further,
they went a
in their purpose.
that was
of companions he had
This Breton
clerk asked
Aurelius
known
dead
in old days, and he answered
him they were

When
come
they were
three furlongs,
they met

almost

to

"

For

which

he wept full often many

tear.

alightsfrom his horse anon, and goes home with the

them
magician to his house, who made
quite at ease.
They
So well-arranged
lacked no victuals that might please them.
a

Aurelius

house
The

as

that

one

magician

Aurelius never
showed
them before
was

saw

they

in his life.
went

to

supper

of wildfe deer ;
he
saw
knight^sjoustenin a plain.
how
falc6ns
have the heron slain.
And,
after
this he did him such pleasdnce.
And
That he him shew'd his lady in a dance.
In which himself he dancM, as him thought.

Forestfes,
parkas,full
Then

And

when

this master, that this

'

Black.

magic wrought

TALES.

CANTERBURY

348

timt,he clapp'dhis hand^s two,

all the revel is ydo !^
farewell,
yet removed
they ne'er out of this hous^i
Whifes they saw all this sightmarvellous.
But in his study,there as^ his books be.
and no wight but they three.
They saten still,

Saw
And
And

it was

called his squireto him, and said," May we go

It is almost an hour, I undertake,since I bade you
to supper?
with me
that these worthy men
make
the supper, when
went
"
into my study,where my books be."
Sir,"quoth the squire,
"
it liketh you, it is all ready, even
when
though ye will have it
**
Go we then to supper,"quoth he, as
justnow."
The

master

"

These

amorous

for the best ;

have rest."
folk sometimfe must

And
after supper they fellin treaty what
all the rocks of
master's reward to remove
of the Seine.
from the Gironde
to the mouth

should be the
Bretagne, and also
sum

He made it strange, and swore, so God him save.

Less than a thousand pounds he would not have,
he would not gone.
Ne gladly for that sum
Aurelius with blissful heart anon
Answered
thus ; " Fie on a thousand pound!
This wid^ world,which that men
say is round,
lord of it.
I would it give,if I were

This bargain is completed, for we are agreed. By my truth ye

shall be paid truly. But look ye, that from no negligenceor
"
sloth ye delay us here longer than the morrow."
Nay," quoth
"
the clerk, have here my faith in pledge."
it so pleasedhim.
To bed goes Aurelius when
And

well

What

nigh alle nighthe

for his labour

and

his

had his rest.

of bliss,

hope

his woeful heart had a relief of its pain. Upon the morrow
road to Bretagne,
it was
when
day, they took the nearest
beside
and
and
the magician
Aurelius,
him,
they descended
from their horses at the place where
they desired to stay.
"

And this was, as the bookfes me

remember,
of December.
The coldfe frostyseason
Phoebus wax'd old and hued like laton,"
That in his hotfe declination
Shone as the burnish 'd gold with streamfes
in Capricornadown
he 'light,
But now
*

Done.

Where.

"

bright;

lead-like
dull-looking

metal.

THE

TALE.

fRANKLmS

349

full pale,I dare well sain.

The bitter frostfeswith the sleet and rain
hath the green in every- yard;
Dfcstroyfed
sits
by the fire with double beard,
Janus
And
drinketh of his bugle horn the wine ;
of tusked swine,
Before him stands the brawn

Whereas

Nowel

"

And

he shone

Aurelius,in

!" * crieth every

all that

ever

he

lustyman.
can,

cheer and reverence,

And prayethhim to do his diligence.
To bringen him out of his paintssmart,
Or with a sword that he would slit his heart.
This subtle clerk such ruth had of this man,
That day and night he speedethhim that he can
To wait a time of his conclusion ;
Doth

to his master

illusion,
jugglery,
By such an ipparence
termfes of astrology)
no
(I can
and say.
That she and every wight should ween
away,
That of Bretagne the rockfes were
und^r the ground.
were
Or else they sunken
So at the last he hath a time yfound
To make his jap^s^and his wretchedness
cursedness.
Of such a superstitious

This

is to say, to make

of

His tables Tolitanfes forth he brought,

that there lacked nought,
Full well corrected,
his
nor
Neither
collect, his Expanse years,
Neither his root^s nor his other gears.
As be his centres and his arguments,
convenients
And his proportional
For his equations in every thing:
And by his spheresthree in his working,

far Alnath'
full well how
that fixed Aries above,

he knew

from

Christmas

"

Tricks.
first star
The
R. H. Home

the French

was

pushed from the head

No^l, "news

"

of

of Christ's birth.

In * Chaucer
Modernized,'
in the house of Aries.
the above
on
and others,there is a curious note
by
John Varley, the accomplishedwater-colour
passage, supplied by
"
In
it runs
:
in astrology. Thus
painter,who was a firm believer
of
each
the
of
d
egrees
particular
the time of Chaucer, the knowledge
of the twelve horoscopal
houses,
the
or
entrance,
cusp,
sign occupying
by
old tables have been abandoned
The
incorrect.
extremely
was
several
secret students in
there
are
whom
modem
(among
astrologers
placed
and Cambridge), and are, of course, rethe Universities of Oxford
the
be
seen
the
of
by
error
may
by perfecttables. The extent
of King Charles the
celebrated
the
astrologer
of
Lilly,
computations
hundred
pounds a year from
First's time (who received a grant of a
publishedwithout
the Parliament); and yet these Lillytables are now
The
though corrected copies may be purchased cheaply.
correction,
"

"

CANTERBURY

3SO

TALES.

That in the fourths sphereconsidered is.

he calculH^ all this.
Full subtlely
When
he had found his firsts mansion
He knew the remnant
by proportion,
And knew the rising
of this moonfe well,
And in whose face,and term, and every del* ;
mansion
And knew fullw6ll the moon^s
Accordant
to his operation ;
And knew alsd his other o^servdnces
For such illusions and such mischances
As heathen folk usfed in thilk^ days ;
he delays,
For which no longermaketh
But through his magic, for a week or tway,*
It seemed

that the rockfes

were

away.

he shall have his love, or

whether
And when
awaiteth night and day for the miracle.
fare but ill,
had
rocks
he knew
that there was
the
obstacle
that
peared
disapno
down
at his master's feet,and
every one, he fell anon
said
who
AureliuSj

is in doubt

"

"

"

Thanks
That me
And

to

Aurelius,
I,wretched,woeful^
lord,and my Lady Ventis,
have holpen from my car^s cold ;"
the temple his way forth hath he hold,
you,

ascribed to the science are in truth the errors

of calculation. As
errors
for the mode of working adoptedby the * clerk * in this poem, we know
rules in Cancer, there she has her mansion
and her
that the Moon
and
Cancer
world's
the
the
in
ocean
horoscope.
dignities,"
represents
If the poet has a latent and secondarymeaning, then Cancer, in the
"

is
mysteries^

also

the

popular,and Neptune is publicopinion. So far

follow the
clerk ;*but he subsequentlyshows himself to be a
we
may
juggler,and not a worker by regular natural'science. He meddles
with fixed substances,instead of keeping to calculations and abstract
ordinances.
For nonentities (in the modern
advances of science)have
much
What
is
real
meridian
as
the
but a nonentity?
things.
as
power
Yet the meridian
Of
of all planetarybodies.
changes tne signification
the Tolitanian
tables,constructed by order of Alphonso, King of
knew
Naples, it does not appear that Chaucer
much, nor are they
*

valuable

for correctness.

But

when

Chaucer, Mr. Tyrwhitt, undertakes

opening of his great Prologue,was

the

learned

commentator

on

the poet, in the

prove
*
in
saying the yonge sonne
wrong
hath in the Ram
his half cours
that
he ought to have said
yronne,' and
the Bull^"iht poet turns out to be the best astronomer
; for the poet
reckoned
and
not
the old. The new
by the new style,
not
stylewas
adopted at that time in England, but Chaucer took it in advance of his
time from
foreign tables. It was called a *new style*only when

adopted in England,
firstweek
*

of

but

it

was

not

that

to

new

to

Chaucer.

He

means

April.'*

Calculated.

Every particular.

'Those.

Two.

the

FRANKLIirs

THE

TALE,

3St

Whereas

he knew he should his lady see.

And when he saw
his time,anon
^e,
ri^ht
With dreadful* heart,and with full humble
cheer,
Saluted hath his owen
ladydear.
**
My sovereignlady,"quoth this woful man,
"Whom
dread and love as I best can,
I most
And loathest were
of all this world displease,
N'ere it' that I for you have such disease
That I must
die here at your foot anon,
Nought would I tell how me is woe-begone.
But certes either must
I die or 'plain
;
Ye slayme
for
pain.
guiltfelessvery
But of my death though that ye have no ruth,
Adviseth
you, ere that you break your truth :
Repentethyou, for thiUc^ God above,
Ere ye me slay,becaus6 that I you love ;
For,madam, well ye wot what ye have hight;"
Not that I diallengeanythingof right
Of you my sovereignlady,but your grace ;
But in a garden vond',at such a place.
Ye wot right well what ye behighten*me,
And in mine
hand your truths plightenye
To love me best : God wot ye sayfedso.
All be that I unworthy am
thereto.

Madame, I speakit for th* honour of you,

More than to save
my heartfes life rightnow,
I have done so as ye commanded
me
;
And if ye vouchfesafe,
see.
ye may go
Do as you list,
have your behests in mind,
For quick or dead, rightthere* ye shall me
find.
In you li'thall to do me
live or dey,
But well I wot the rock^s be away."
He taketh his leave,and she astonish 'd stood ;
In all her fac^ n* as one
drop of blood :
She weenM
have been in such a trap.'
never
"
Alas I " quoth she," that ever
this should hap' !
For weenfed 1 never
by possibility
That such a monster
or marvaille
might be ;
"
It is againstthe process of nature
;
And home
she go'tha sorrowful creSture.

For very

fear,she

to weep

hardly go.

can

and

wail,and

For

to sorrow,

day

that

two

or

it

was

she

piteousto

see,
But

why

For out
But to
^

it was, to
of town

was

she
herself,

wight told^ she.

Arviragus ;
gone
spake,and say^d thus,
no

Full of dread.
*

Were
it not.
Right in that matter.

"

tinues
con-

Promised.

TAlEi.

CAN-mkBUkY

Ui

With fac6 pale,and with full sorry cheer,

In her complaint,as ye shall after hear.
""Alas ! " quoth she," on thee,Fortune, I 'plain,
That tinware hast me
wrapped in thy chain.
From which to scapen wot I no succour
Save only death,or ell^s dishonour ;
One of these two behoveth
to choose.
me
lever^
lose
But nathfeless,
I
had
yet
than of my body to have shame,
My life,
Or know
name
:
or lose my
myselven false,
be quitywis.
And with my death I may
Hath there not many
noble wife ere this,
a
And many
slain herself,
a maiden
alas,
"
Rather than with her body do trespass ?
"

"

Thus

"

"

"

'plainedDorieen

day

tway,

or

Purposingever

that she wouldfe dey ;

But nathfeless upon
the thirdfe night
Home
came
Arviragus,the worthy knight,
And askfed her why that she wept so sore ?
And she 'gan weepen
ever
longer the more.
"

Alas,"ouoth she, that ever

Thus have I said,"quoth she,
"

was

born
I

thus have
heard before
"

And

told him

It needeth

not

all,as ye have
rehearse

it you

no

!
"

sworn

more.

This husband
with glad cheer,in good^ wise,
Answer'd
and said as I shall you devise :
"
Is there ought ellfes,
Dorigen, but this ?
"
Nay, nay," quoth she," God rede me so, and wis,*
will."^
Godd^s
This is too much, and it were
"
"
that
be still;
let
sleep
Yea, wife,"quoth he,
may
^
"

It may be well perddventureto-day.

Ye shall your truthfe holden b^ my fay :*
For God so wiselyhave mercy
me
on
I had well lever^ stick^d for to be,
For very love which that I to you have.
But if ye should your truths keep and save.
Truth is the highestthing that men
keep
may
But with that word he *gan anon
to weep,
And
said," I you forbia,on pain of death,
That never
while you lasteth life or breath,
To no wight tell thou of this Adventure
;
best I will my woe
As I may
endure.
Ne make no countenance
of heaviness
That folk of you may deemen
harm or
'

Rather.

"

Or, in

other

otherwise."
"

Compare

And

"

^
"

guess."

Teach, guide.

if it were
but God's will it
* Faith.
" That.
Chaucer's * Balade of Truth. '
In all troubles"
"
Truths shall deliver,
it is no dread,"

words,""

might

b"

FRAI^KLIN'S

THE

And
"

anon

he called forth a sauire and a maiden.

with Dorigen,ana
bring her to such a

They

3Si

TALE,
"

placeimmediately.'

leave,and on their way

wist6 why she thither went
no
wight tellen her intent.

take their

But they ne
He n'ouldfe

he said,
forth,"

Go

they go,
;

called Aurelius, and

squire,that was
her in
Dorigen,happened by chance to meet
This

that

loved

so

the town, in the

the
towards
bound^
the
she
to
was
street, as
way
go
garden, where she had given her promise. And be went towards
well when
she would go out of her
the garden also. For he saw
ture
house to any kind of place ; but there they met through advenand
and favour, and he saluteth her with glad intent,
nearest

asketh

whither

her

"

And
Unto

My

she goes.

she
the

truthfe

half as she were

mad,
answdrfed,
garden as mine husband bad,
for to hold,alas ! alas !
'gan wonder on this case,
"

Aurelius
And in his heart had great compassion
Of her,and of her lamentation.
And

of

Arviragus,the worthy knight,

That bade her holden all that she had hight,"
So loth him was
his wife should break her truth ;
And in his heart,he caught of this,
great ruth.
Considering the
That
Than

best

on
every side.
him lever 'bide,*
from his lust yet were
do so high a churlish wretchedness

Against franchise* and allfe gentleness;

For which, in fewfe word^s
said he thus :
Maddme, say to your lord Arviragus,
That since I see his greats gentleness
To you, and eke I see well your distress,
lever have shame (and that were
That him were
ruth)
should
breaken thus your truth,
Than ye to me
*'

I had

well lever

Than
I you

to

to sufFeren woe,

ever

depart the love

release,
Maddme,

betwixt you two.

into your bond

Quit every

and
sur^ment"
made
have
to
me
ye
Since thilk^ timfc that ye

That

Have
here my truth,I shall
and here I take my leave

never

bond

every
as

herebeforn.
yborn.

were

reprove you for any

promise ;

"

As of the truest and the bestfe wife

That ever
yet I knew in all my life,

This expressionis in common

t* bound ? is there heard much
"

use

"

going ?
*

The

"

more

Promisee!.

of
or dignity
spirit

freedom.

this

day in Leeds.
than
Where
frequently

to

"

"
"

"

Where
are

Better desist.

Assurance,pledge.

*s
you

TALES,

CANTERBURY

iU

promise,remembering, at
doubt, a squire can do a
Dorigen. Thus,
well
as
as a knight.''
wife beware

let every

But

least,upon

gentledeed

of her
without

thanketh him upon her knees all bare,

is she fare,
home unto her husband
told him all as ye have heard me said,i
he was
so well apaid.
And, be ye certain,
That it were
impossibleme to write.
She

And
And

I longer tell of this case

lead
forth their lives in
wife,
them.
there anger between

should

Why
his

again was

Arviragusand
sovereignbliss.
?

gen,
DoriNever

He cherished her as though she were

a queen.
And she was
to him true for evermore
:
Of these two folk ye get of me
no
more.
Aurelius,that his cost hath all forlorn,
Curseth the time that ever he was
born.
"
Alas ! " quoth he, " alas I that I behight,'
Of purfegold a thousand pound of wei^t,
Unto this philosopher! how shall I do ?

see

no

but that I

more

am

undone

;
"

I needfes sell,
Mine heritage
must
And be a beggar ; here I may not dwell,
And shamen
all my kindred in this place,
But' I of him may getten better grace ;
I will of him essay,
But nathMess
At certain dayfes,
year by year, to pay,
And thank him of his greatfecourtesy :
My truthfe will I keep ; I will not lie.
With hearth sore he go'thunto his coffer,
And broughtegold unto this philos6pher.
The value of five hundfed pound, I
guess,
And him beseecheth of his gentleness
To ffrant him dayfes
of* the remenant,
"
Andsaid
:
Master, I dare well make avaunt,
I failed
of my truth as yet ;
never
For sikerly*
my debtis shall be quit
Towardfes you, how so that e'er I fare,
To go a beggar in my kirtle bare.
But would ye vouchfesafe upon surety,
Two
years or three for to respitenme.
Then were
I well ; for ellfesmust I sell
Mine heritage; there is no more
to tell."

This
And
"

Say.

philosopher
soberlyanswdr'd,

sayfedthus,when
Promised.

"

he these wordfes heard

Unless.

"*

For.

Certainly.

FRANKLIN'S

THE
**
"
**

TALE.

355

"
holden covenant
to thee ?
quoth he.
Yea, certes,well and truely,"
Ilast thou not had thy lady as thee liketh ?'*

Have

I not

"

he siketh.*
No, no,"quoth he, and sorrowfully

"

What

his tale

Aurelius
And

told him

It needeth

all

not

to

can."

if thou

the causfe ? tell me,

was

began,

anon

ye have heard
you rehearse it

before ;

as

more.

said, " Arviragus, of his gentleness,had

rather die in
and sorrow, than
false of her
wretchedness
that his wife were
of Dorigen ; how loth she
troth." He told him all the sorrow
to be a wicked
was
wife,and that she had rather that day have
died ; that she had in innocence
her troth,and she had
sworn
He

heard

never
"

made

have

me

And
As

This

of

speak

pityof her

such great

is

no

and

say."
brother,each of you
and
other.
Thou
art a squire,
"

philosopher answered,

haddest

Dear

blissful power,
well

as

but

now

me

hast

thy thousand
crept

was

could

ON
young

casting
be

imagine

as

his road.

said

author

of

in

about
of

ask, Which

FRANKLIN'S

THE

labourer, Gower,

all who

pound

of the earth

out

my travdille ;
for my victaflle :
farewell,have good day."

he took his horse,and goes forth on

now
Lordings, this question I would
think you ?
most
liberal,

the

is

of thee

And

^HEN

There

ypay^dwell

enough, and

REMARKS

forbid but that

of you.

"

For, sir,I will not take a penny

For all my craft,
ne
nought for
Thou
It is

any

thee of

before known

never

me,

to

more

behaved
with gentleness to the
he is a knight ; let God, of his
clerk could do a gentle deed
as
I
doubt of that. Sir, release
no
completely as though thou wert

That," quoth he,

"

rightas freelyas he sent her to

freelysent I her to him again.

is the whole, there

The

"

magical appearances.

his
to

his

the

TALE.

'Troilus

and

thoughts

friend
whom

was

and
and

to

fellow
to

the

Cressida
see

what

literary

sophical
"philo-

he
wished
dedicate it, we
Strode"
to
can
readily
that besets
that beset him ; for it is one
the difficulty
have occasion
their respect for men
to show
sessing
posmay
who
ambition
than ability,and
to the
owe
more
*

Sigheth.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

356

of social position,period,etc., a reputation they

No
TYi^ poeticalGowerl
have otherwise obtained.
;
could not say that of his friend ; who, reversing the
Chaucer
The pathetic
old fable,turned everything he touched to lead.
rather calculated to call up a smile,
idea was
The
Gower?
him of any of those *' unbidden
than to remind
gushes " that
and anon
ever
spring forth amid the rocks and deserts of life

accidents
could not

Cower?
Chaucer
sublime
Alas!
The
poet's touch.
if he did not actuallythink,that he was
gettingvery
feel,
called
him the
have
to the ridiculous.
He*might
certainly

the

at

would
near

learned

Gower, which

would

have

been
of

almost

as

day

great

pliment
com-

the educated

literary
;
the
deep and extensive learningthen among
class of writers.
There
wanted
sonorous
something much more
and
much
ing
accordand imposing,
or little,
yet that might mean
so

common

to

man

our

own

was

the views

Excellent
He

call

to

as

of those who
could be

! There

it. Ha ! the moral

?
Goyer
well.
doubt the good man
meant
The
moral
Gower.
poet
young

used
no

undoubtedly a very
adopted the phrase.
And
such
is the strength and vitality
of the true, and the
of the seeming poet, that while probably not a single
weakness
reader who glances over
will remember
these pages
a line,or
a
thought,ever penned by Gower, in all his works, there are
perhaps very few persons who are not familiar with his name.
The black-lelter flyhas come
safe down to us in Chaucer's amber.
was

could be content
to let him
rest, if there were
considerations
in the
not
of the highest import involved
?
What
is
this
Moral
value
be
attached
to
to
question
word.
What
Gower's
notion of morality? What
Chaucer's ?
was
was
In all periodsof the world's recorded
history(ifwe except
and dark ones, of which we
know
the very remote
littleto
too
make
find traces
it worth while to take them
into account),we
of the essential and
unchanging principlesof religion,
philosophy,
and
morality,around which cling hosts of notions and
fancies that do change from age to age, and which
fore
theremay
be esteemed
non-essential.
Now
he will generallybe
as
looked upon in his own
writer who most
the
moral
day as
truly
successfullyenforces the notions rather than the principles;
writer for all time, we take it,is he who reverses
but the moral
^
the procedure. Thus
in part, we
think,may be explained the
fact that Gower's
morality sleeps in dusty oblivion,while
Chaucer's is for ever
awakening the hearts and minds of the
influential at least among
his countrymen, and through them,
where the more
direct channels are not open, of the hearts
even
and minds of all the people who
the language his poetry
own
did so much
to create.
And

thus

"

we

THE

FRANKLlirs

TALE,

357

But

be urged in explanation,had not

the
Gower, it may
the
mind
of
Chaucer
to enable him
to work
ability
out his
a
views
of morality. True ; but that very question of ability
should form a capitalitem in our
estimation of the morality of
writers.
To mean
well,and to carry out our meanings, as far
the
as
strength given to us will permit, is all that can be
demanded
of us as
individuals ; but the writer's duty is to
teach ; and his power
for teaching,as evidenced
by the effect
of his teaching,should, in a great measure,
settle the question
of his rank as a moralist.
In Chaucer's
then, so to
presence,
and
mischievous
the
becomes
exquisitelyabsurd
speak, how
"

"

honour
shadow

paid

the

-We
Gower.
the lifeless
crov/n
to the neglect of the immortal
substance.
in which
the two
writers work : Our
Lastly,as to the mode
make
Gower's
spelling-books
widely known.
Jack so-and-so
a bad
was
boy ; he did so-and-so ; mind you don't do that,else
will
be
a bad
boy. This is the morality,a little simplified,
you
bo
writers even
in our
own
possibly,of many
day, who would
in
such
their
to
Their
offspring
unwilling acknowledge
shape.
in nature.
facts of life are
faith is in themselves, not
The
summarily divided into two classes : the one to be the subject
of indignant reprobation,the other of unrespectingeulogy
is Gower's
method.
neither of patientstudy. This
Chaucer,
I
for the most
part, works in a different spirit.Humbly, perseof
the
"mingled yam"
veringly, hopefully, he examines
in
the closest
existence,and discovers good and evil throughout
He
the
fact
therefore
one
as
neighbourhood.
upon
accepts
all
be
exertions
based.
which
must
Looking still more
earnestly,the conviction bursts upon him that truth,beauty,
throw
goodness, requirebut a fair field and impartialjudge to oversolemn
all enemies.
With deep and
joy the poet recognises
therefore his lists ;
at last his highest duty. He
opens
let loose ; the subtle
the combatants
enter
; the passions are
and
brain tries all its wiles ; now
bright as the heaven
high
low and heavy as the ground beneath, rises and falls
above, now
and yearning ; terriblyreal is the struggle;
mood
the spirit's
the spectators feel there is nothing kept back, that the issue will
be indeed momentous,
as decisive of the innate
strengthof the
and
lo
and
in
!
the shouts,
stillbetter in the
opposing powers ;
the issue,
of gladness with which
tears
they at last welcome
'
however
the
influences
unconsciously,
mighty
they acknowledge,
and upward. The
onward
to bear them
that have been at work
of
If wc
become
do not
them
the
God.
has
to
high priest
poet
"
that it is solely
the
call Chaucer
Moral,''let it be understood
universal to I
and
too
vast
his powers
and qualities
because
are
^
word.
in any one
be circumscribed
to

moral

"

"

3S8

CANTERBURY

TALES,

the reflections suggestedin our mind by the perusal

to conceal
of the foregoingtale. It would be wrong
the fact
that there have been different notions of it. Urry sums
up the
to
seemeth
be
thus
The
this
contention
tale
whole
a
:
of
scope of
These

are

"

courtesy.
that ^licreare
admit to opponents
two
three
or
strange omissions in this otherwise very charming story. Supposing
the sanctityof an oath was
so
great at the period m
question that neither Dorigen nor her husband could see their
loose from it,in spiteof the fact that itcould only
to break
way
be fraudulentlyenforced^
how
is it that when
Aurelius does at
last open
his eyes to his own
behaviour, as contrasted with
and wickedness
theirs,he says nothing about the meanness
involved in all his former proceedings ?
and wife,
Why, again,it may be asked, did not the husband
who could not be altogetherignorantof the doings of tregetours
the rocks reallywere
wait to see whether
gone before accepting
the marvellous
solid fact ; and, lastly,
how is it
as
appearances
that no explanationis given as to the result of the appearances,
which
have
been
known
must
soon
only as disappearances,
leavingthe rocks as before ?
We
can
only answer, Was there ever a story,in prose or verse,
of which the lovers* difficultiescould not have
been avoided
by
Is
with
them
?
?
a
romance
common-sense
dealing
reality Is
fiction fact ? To requirethe story-teller
to invent a plot which
is
detective can
mistake
his
vocation.
His busito
ness
no
unravel,
is to tell an interesting
story that, like a play, shall take
his readers in for the time ; not to have it brought into court and
examined
by a nineteenth century judge,jury,counsel, and expert
witnesses.
introduced into a mediaeval tale,
Magic once
anything is probable. Into such things
anythingis possible,
readers must
not
enquire too curiously,even when they pay the
author
the compliment of taking his fictions for facts.
For
analogues of this Tale of Chaucer's, see * The DamsePs
'
Rash
Promise
Indian
and
other Asiatic
and
;
European
*
versions of the
Franklin's
Tale,' by Mr. Clouston, in the
Chaucer
Society's* Originalsand Analogues',pp, 289, 340.
One

may

PARDONER'S

THE

Flanders

once

haunted

TALE.

was

the

of

ways

of

company

folk

young

thai

folly,

As

riot,hazard, stewfes, and tav^rnes

;
with
lutfes,harpfes, and
gittdrns,
They dance, and play at dice, both
day and
Whereas*

And

By

oathfes
it is

each

of

laughed

them

dancing- women,
came
with
fruit-sellers, singers
be

that

the

annexed

body

him

rent

and

well

harps,

sin.

first of

caus^

of

Original
Till

made,

to

how

Abought
Corrupt

was
was

Adam,
From

For

driven

He

the

Writ

Holy

Eat

Whereat.

An

'

Look.

of

the

More

and

father,

and

augmentation
'

that

witness

to

is

that

for

blood

the

they
force

doubt.

it is

can

of

as

when
of

also,

to

fasted,
and

defended'^

than

No

his

wife

and

vice,

Adam

Paradise,
fruit

his

labour

to

for

of

lust,

with

us

dear,

that
in

was

wafer-cakes,

fire of

the

again,
shortly for to sayn
first this cursfed
felony ;
for gluttony.
all this world

our

while

young

of

confusion,

bought

Paradise,

Were

female

damnation.

had

Looketh,*^

there

anon

blow

of cursedness

our

our

Christ

And
and

drunkenness.

full

gluttonye,

enough

not

;*

sellers

I take

and

swear

to-tear

other's

the

at

them

they

Jewfes

officers

wine

is in

lust

wise,

damnible.

so

hear

to

small

gluttony.

unto

that

me

devil's

very

for

the

in

sacrifice

cursM

and

great

so

Lordfes

thought

They
and

be

grisly"

blissful

Our

in

night,
;

abominable.

superfluity

That

might

devil

devil's

the

their

ov^r^

they do the
temple,

which

Through
Within

Their

drink

and

also,

eat

woe.
drede

no

read.

that
a

verb,
''

he

tree,

properly
the

;^

deal
tear

Forbidden.

with,
;

tear

"

to

Fearful.

pieces.

360

Canterbury
He
O

to

outcast

was

thee well

gluttony,on

sitting

his table.

Alas

make
to labour
men
in air,in water,
To

The

piteousvoice
the end

These

excess

and

in his diet,
tender
the
mouth,
throat,
North, and South ; in earth,
within

more

measure

and

drink.

Paul

cost

hard

they

substance

all
ftilfil

is thee to find !
and
stamp, and strain,

lab6ur

and

cookfes how
turnen

into

thy likerous

accident,
the

soft and

go

grind.

taldnt.

they knock

bones

that may

nought away

follow

! the short

East, West,

great

And

of the

maladies

many

How

Out

pain :
'plain!

us

I have

"

To

ought

gluttonmeat
silly

is death.

Belly,

into

walk
saith,piteouslyweeping, "There
told you"
I say it now,
with
a
weeping
that they be enemies
of Christ's cross, of whom

apostle
of which

many,

get

and

woe

know
how
Oh, did a man
gluttonies,he would keep
at

Tales.

for

marrow,

the

through

sweet

they cast
gullet.

Of

and leavfes,
bark, and root,
spicerie,
Shall be his saucfe made
to his delight.
To make
him have a newer
appetite.

who liveth in such

certainlyhe that haunteth such delights,
is
dead.
vices,
is full of strivingand wretchedness.
Drunkenness
But

Oh,

drunken

thou

though

Thou

disfiguredis thy

face ;

is

And
And

man,

thy breath,foul art thou to embrace ;

through thy drunken nose soundeth the soun.

Sour
As

yet, God
fallest

Thy tongue

saidest aye,

"

Sampsoiln,Sampsotin.

wot, Sampsoiin drank

as

it were,

is

lost,and

wine.

never

stickfed swine

all thine honest

;
1*

cure

For drunkenness
is very sepulture
Of mannfes wit, and his discretion.
In whom
that drink hath domination,

without

doubt, he

can

Now

keep you
Namfely^ from
That
*

Care

'

or

in Chaucer's

from

no

counsel.

the white and

the whitfe wine

is to sell in Fleet Street

business.

placenot

keep

for

or

from

the

red,

Lepe,'
in Cheap.
*

far from

time

of

Cadiz,that appears to
the strengthof its wines.

Specially.
have

been

distinguished

THE
This

PARDONER'S

TALE,

3O1

Spanish wine
close by, of which
hath

creepeth subtlelyin other wines growing

there riseth such
fumes, that when a man
three draughts, and believeth

drinken

that he

He

is

Not
And

in

in

be at home

Spain,rightat the

town

Cheap,
of Lepe,

the Rochelle,ne at Bordeaux

town,
thennfe will he say, " Sampsoiin,Sampsotin."

at

But

hearken,lordings,one

word,

I you

pray,

That all the sovereignactfes,

dare I say,^
Of victories in th' Oldfe Testament,

Thorough

the very God

Omnipotent,
done in abstinence,
and in prayere.

Were

Look

in the Bible ; there ye may

learn it.
died in his
Look,2 Attila,the great conqueror,
dishonour
and shame.
Remember,
too, what
.

sleep,with
was

manded
com-

read
Samuel
the Bible,and see the effects
of givingwine to them
that dispense justice. And
that I
now
have spoken of gluttony,will 1 forbid hazard to you.
Hazard
is the very mother
of lies and
false
and
deceit,
swearing,and
of cattle and of time.
It is the
blasphemy, and waste
unto

contrary of honour.
For

to be held

And

ever

the

The

mor6

he

If that

hazardour

common

higher he
is holden

is of estate
desolate.

useth hazardry,
princfe
In allfegovernance
and policy,
lie is,as by common
opinion
a

Heldfe the less in reputation.

Stilbon,that was a wise ambassadour.
Was
with full great honour
to Corinth
sent
From
Lacedoine,to make their dlliance :
And

when

he

it

came,

happfedhim perchance

all the greatest that were

of that
hazard
them
he
the
found.
at
Yplaying

That
For

which,

He

stole him

as

soon

home

"
There
saidfe,

And

I n'ill not

take

You

dllyunto

for to

as

on

that it

again
I will not
me

so

none

lond,

mights be,

to

his

country.

lose my

name,

great defame.
hazardours.

Sendeth
other wise ambassadours
some
;
For ty my truths,me
lever die
were
Than
I you should to hazardours ally.
^

I dare

'

The

affirm.

English writers,and Chaucer

displayingtheir learning,and

earliest

opportunityof

them, lost no
thankful,no doubt,

among
very

for the information

their readers were
thus afforded.
We are not in
therefore
a
nd
ventured
the same
luxurito
have,
position,
abridgethis ance
of book knowledge.

362

"

in

the King of Parthius

sent
King Demetrius
Great
pair of gold dice.
swearing is also an
God
forbids
it altogether. But
The
thing.
High
how

Look,

scorn

to

abominable

sirs,I will tell you forth

now,

These
for

TALES,

CANTERBURY

tale.

my

three rioters of whom

speak,long

before the bell rang

prime.
Were

in

set them

And

for to drink

tavern

heard

bellfeclink

they sat, they

carried to the grave :
Before a corpse was
of them
That one
'gan call unto his knave

"

Better

passes

quoth

as

"

"

ask
and
whose
go," quoth he,
corpse
by here, and look that thou report his name
the

"

boy,

it needeth

hours

before ye came
of yours, and he was

drunkenness,

to-night.

came

went

hath

to beware

come

ere

ye
that it is full
of such

Be ready for to meet

Thus taughtfe
me
my
"

The

Hence

a-two,
:

necessdry

adversary;

an

him

evermore

dame

; I ray

no

more."

Saintfe Mary," said this Tavemere,*

child saith sooth, for he* hath slain this year,
a
mile, within a great village,
over

hind, and

man

page

advisfed,
great wisdom it were,
that dishonour."
that he did a man
"
Yea, Goddfes armfes,"quoth this notour,
"
Is it such perilwith him for to meet
?
I shall him seek by way
and eke by street.
I make
a vow
to Godd^s
digne^bones.
To

be

Ere

Hearken, fellows,we

three be but

Let each of us hold up

And each of us becomen
And

we

will

slay this

other's

By

Goddfes

The

to other,
brother.

falsfe traitor Death

shall be slain fe that

slay'th,
many
it be night !"

so

dignity,ere
have

one.

his hand

He

Together

as

these three their trothfes plight,

innkeeper.

Death.

"

Sir,"
two

he sat, from

As

in his presence.

and woman,
child,and
his habitation be there :

Both
I trow

me

"

companion

pestilence

thinketh

By

his heart

wordfes mo.
his way withouten
this
slain
thousand

And, master,
For

old

clepen Death,
people slay'th,

men
privy thief,

in this country all the

with his spear he smote

And

well."
told

was

was,

And

"

slain suddenly
upright on his bench,

That

Me

He

pardie,an

There

He

never

here.

bit ; it

this is that

Worthy.

To

live and

As

363

TALE,

PARDONER'S

THE

dien each

of them with other,

his
owfen swornfe brother.
were
though
all
drunken, in this rage,
up they start,
forth they go towardfes that vilUge,
which
hath spoke beforn.
the Taverner
then have they sworn,
oath
a
grisly
many
he

And
And

Of
And

And Christ^s blessed body they to-rent ;

"
Death shall be dead, if that we may
him hent."*
When
they have gone not fullyhalf a mile.

Right

have turn'd ov6r a stile.

as they would
and a poor" with them
old man
met
;
This oldfe man
full meekfely them grette,*

An

said," Now, lords,God keep you in his sight!"

The
!
proudest of the three rioters answered
again,"What
churl with sorry cheer ! Why
art
thou so wrapped up, except
face
?
thy
and

livest thou

Why

long

so

in

great age ?*'

so

'gan look in his^

This

oldfe man

And

saidfe thus

"

For

that I

visdge,
find

cannot

into Inde,
though that I walkM
man,
Neither in citynone, ne in village.
That wouldfe change his youthfefor mine

age ;
therefore must
I have mine agfestill
As longfetime as it is Goddfes will.
And Death, alas ! nc will not have my life.
And

I like

walk

Thus

restfeless

caitiff.

is my mother's
And on the ground, which
I knocks with my staff,
earlyand late,
*

Leve* mother, let me

in ;
I
and blood,and
wan^, flesh,
Lo, how
shall my
bonfes be at rest
Alas ! when

And
'

gate,

say^,

Mother,

with

in my

That

Yea, for

hair

will not

do

me

you will I changen my

chamber
longe time hath

cloth,in which

to

wrap

that favour, therefore

skin.
?

chest.
been

myself. But

is my

face full

yet she

pale

and

withered.

But,-sirs,it is
unto

old

an

Writ

ye

before
do unto

unless

man,

old man,

an

old

an

he

yourselves

may

man

whose
no

in you

to speak villainous words

in
word
In Holy
deed.
or
trespass
rise in respect
should
see, that
you
head is hoar ; thereof I counsel you,

courtesy

no

harm,

nor

did to you
than ye would men
if
that
In age,
ye may so long abide.
And
God be with you, whereso ye go or
No

Catch.

morfe

must

go
^

thither

Greeted.

as

I have

ride !

to go.

In his

(the rioter's).

Dear.

tale^.

Canterbury

3^4

thou

Nav, oldfe churl,by God

"

shall not

so

"

Saidfe that other hazardour

anon
;
"
Saint John.
Thou
not
so
lightly,
b
y
partest
traitor
Thou
of
thilkfe
Death,
now
spake right
in this country all

That
Have

friendfes

our

slay'th.
Tell

my truth,that thou art his spy.

shalt abide the consequences,

here

is,or thou

By
For
To

God

and

by

the

Sacrament

he

of his assent
thou
bXsh thief."
youngfe folk,

soothlythou

slayus

Holy

where

me

art one

"Now, sirs,"
quoth he, " if it be
turn

so

pleasant to you

to find

Death,

this crooked

way,
in that grove I left him, by
my fay.
he
will
there
abide
Under
and
a
tree,
;
Ne for your boast he n'ill him nothing hide.
See ye that oak ? rightthere ye shall him find ;
God sav^ you that bought again mankind.
And
;" thus said this old6 man.
you amend
up

For

And every of these riotour^s ran

Till they came
to the tree, and there they found
Of florins fine of gold ycoinfed
round,
Well nigh a seven
bushels,as them thought.
No longer thennfe after Death they sought.
But eadi of them
of that sight.
so glad was
fair
For that the florins were
and bright,
so
That down
they set them by that precioushoard.
The youngest of them
spake the firsts word :
"
Brethren,"quoth he, " take keep what I shall say ;
My wit^ is great, though that I bourde^ and play.
This treasure
hath fortiinfeto us given
life to liven.
In mirth and jollity
our
it
will we
And
as
so
spend.
lightly
comes,
Goddfes
who
wend*
preciousdignity,
Aye,
that
should have so fair a grace
we
To-day,
But
Home

and

for

our

by night,as

be carried
This treasure
must
hang us.
wiselyand slily
as
possible,therefore I advise that
treasure

lots among
cast
us, and
that hath the lot, shall run
that full quickly,
we

this

gold be carried from this place

to mine
house, or ellfesunto yours,
(For well I wot that this gold is not ours).
in high felicity.
Then
weren
we
But
by day it may not be ;
truely
wouldfesay that/we were
Men
thieves strong,
might

Knowledge.

"

Make

see

the lot will fall. And

blithe heart to the town,

where

with

fun,from

the French.

"

he
and

Believed.

pArdonei^'s

Th^

s^s

TAin.

To bring us bread and wine full privily

:
And
of us shall keepen subtilely
two
This treasure
well ; and if he will not tarry,
When
it is night,we will this treasure
cany
By one assent, there as us liketh best."

Then

one

draw,

of them

and

youngest

brought

look

the

where

and bade them

in his fist,
the straws
it fell on the
and
lot would
fjall,

of them.
And forth toward the town
he went
anon.
And all so soon^
that he was
agone,
That one
that other :
of them spake thus unto
"
Thou
well thou art my swornfe brother,
wottest

Thy profitwill
Thou

wottest

And

here is

I tellfethee

well

anon.

fellow is a^one,
that full great plenty

our

gold,and
That shall departed*be among
if I can
But nath^less,
shape
That it departed were
betwix

three.

us

it so,

two,

us

done a friendfes turn to thee ? "

The other answered, " I n'ot* how
that may
be
He wot well that the gold is with us tway.
What
should we then do ? what should we
say ?
Had

**

not

confidence?"

Shall it be in
"

**

said the first wretch.

I shall tellen thee in wordfes few

And

shall do, and bring it well about."

grants,"quoth that other," without doubt,
That by my troth I will thee not betray."
"
"
thou wot'st well we
be tway.
Now," quoth the first,

What
"

And

we

of

two

Look,

shall

us

stronger be

than

one.

is set, thou rightanon

thou wouldfest with him

that he

when

Arise, as though

play,

through the sidfestway

While that thou strugglestwith him as in game
And with thy dagger look thou do the same
;
And
then shall all this gold departed'be.
thee and me
My dearfe friend,betwixen
;
And

I shall rive him

Then
And

And

mayen

play

lustfesall fulfil,
will."
rightat our owcn

our

we

at dice

agreed be

thus

these

two

cursed

wretches

to

slay the

third.
This

youngest, which

Full fast in heart

The
"

beauty
Lord
^

I"

that wentfe

rolleth up and
and
of the florins new
he

quoth he, "

Parted,divided.

if so

were,
'

to the town

down

bright.
that I might
Know

not.

"

Digitizedby VjOOQ

IC

TALES.

CANTERBURY

366

all this gold unto

Have
myself alone,
that liveth under
the throne
There is no man
I."
Of God, that should^ live so merry
as

last,the fiend,our enemy,

Put in this thought that he should poison bey,"
With which he mighte slay his fellows tway.

And

why ? the

For
he

had

leave

the

at

to

fiend found him livingin such a

And
this
bring him to sorrow.

manner,

that

his determined

was

purpose,
To

slay them

And

forth he

Into the town

And

Some

both and
unto

he tarry,

'pothecary.

that he

him

his rats.
that he might exterminate
in his farm-yard that he said had
could he would
gladly be
them by night.

repent.

longferwould

no
}?o'th,

prayd6 him
poison

to

never

revenged

wouldfe sell

also there was

And
a polecat
slain his capons,
and if he

on

the vermin

that

destroyed

"

apothecary answered, As wisely as may God save my

in all
soul,shalt have a thing that there is not a living creature
The

of this confection but the

the world that hath eaten or drunken
of a corn
of wheat, that he shall not anon
amount
give up his
life. Yea, he shall perishin less time than thou wilt go a mile,
the poison is so strong and violent."
This cursed man
hath seized in his hand the poison in a box,
three
and immediately he ran into the next street,and borrowed
he
large bottles,and
poured the poison into two of them, and
drink : for all the night he
kept the third clean for his own
determined
of that
in carrying the gold away
out
to labour

place.
this rioter with sorry grace
And when
Hath filled with wine his greatfebottles three.
To his fellows again repairethhe.
needeth
it thereof to sermon
What
?
more

For

rightas they had cast* his death before,

Right so they have him slain,and that anon.
And when
this was
ydone, thus spake that one
"

Now

And

let

us

afterward

drink and
we

sit,and

make

us

body bury."
it happened him per

And with that word

To take the bottle there the poison was
And drank, and gave his fellow drink

from

which,

anon,

*Buy.

merry,

will his

cas^

also,

they both perished.

2

Contrived.

"Dy

chance.

THE

PARDONER'S

ON

REMARKS

THE

367

TALE.

PARDONER'S

TALE.

and the Rioters occurs

another
the story of Death
evidence of Chaucer's power of steepingthe most
familiar
unand difficult subjects in their own
kindred
hues.
As with the chief actors
or
mainspring of the
*ts
with
of
the
whole
so
machinery
atmosphere everypoem,
thing
natural principles
looks natural,and explicable
upon
; yet
feel
surrounded
solemn,
influences,
by
unearthly
strange,
you
rise far into the region of the supernatural.
that
seem
to
The
surpassingskill with which this is accomplished can only
Yet let us ask, does the poet make
:r-ih Wt,"not described.
-.
in
bodily,and smote
^;^.y\/M"Taverner's
boy believe Death came
the heart of the drunken
with his spear
rioter on
the
the Tavemer
himself believe Death's
bench ? or make
bodily
in
the
is
mile
a
^"ct^abitation
village
distant,uhere he hath slain
In

"

^"jjjjbto
"

^"his

year
Both

man

and woman,

child,and hind,and

page

rioters expect to encounter

the adventurous
him
face
that this Old
Man
Does
he mean
with is
they meet
who while going about
his terrible mission
on
reallyDEATH,
find none
of giving rest to others,can
for himself,and cries
out with the sublimest
pathos,

or

make

to face ?

Ne Death, alas ! ne will not have my life.

Thus walk I like a restMess caitiff;
And on the ground which is my mother s gate^
I knocks with my staff,
earlyand late,
And sayfe,
Leve mother, let me
in!

is it he who
if this be DEATH,
has laid the florins at the
And
tree's root to entrap the wretched
boasters ? Who
?
can
answer
human
of these thingsneed to be so to support the mere
None
of the tale ; yet how
line and
touch
makes
us
vitality
every
believe the tale is instinct with a higher life,
and
to us
opens
dim, undefinable glimpses of the world beyond, into which its
conducts
the three human
and erringactors.
course
the dramatic
tion
construcDescending from such speculations,
strike every
In
of this tale must
one.
simplicityand
in
of
the
and
of the sympadesign,
depth
grandeur
universality
thies
with
aroused,and in the metaphysical truth and rapidity
which
movement
one
springs out of another, each enlarging
and hurrying on faster and faster to the
upon its predecessor,

CANTERBURY

368

completeand

TALES,

awful

conclusion,it must be looked upon as one

of the most
perfectthings of the kind in existence.
Some
people have been foolish and presumptuous enough to
know
Chaucer
did not
what he was
about in the
introduction to this Tale.* How
improper,say they, is such a
of the Pardoner
Tale in the mouth
! They forgetthat it is his
Tales
business to tell Moral
and that he expressly says he
And
tellsall such things by rote.
how
well as
as
artistically,
Chaucer
for
does
this Tale,by making the
humorously,
prepare

think

that

"

sensual,shameless
grasping,licentious,

ling
vagabond, after revelhis own
his
to
audience
lecture
begin
self-exposure,
the wickedness
of avarice,drunkenness, and gluttony ;
the littlelengthening" the tediousness
here has its purpose
mirth
ihe
at
contrast
being,as we may suppose,
; until the

in
upon
even

"

exhausted,
literally

the

Pardoner,

who

is used

to

"likes

laughter and

concerted
it,'*
probably,and at all events is not discontempt,
by it at once launches into his Tale ; which by its
and
own
speedilyarrest all hearts and minds
inspires
power
with a professional
the narrator
even
sobrietyand earnestness
the occasion.
befitting
The
earliest known
version of the ' Pardoner^s^Tale
dates from
the fifth century before Christ,and was
found by Dr. R. Morris
the Buddhist
in
Jatakas,or birth-stories. It is known
among
other versions in Persian,Arabian, Kashmiri, Tibetan,Latin,
Italian, German,
French, and Portuguese ; and
accounts
*
of these
will be found in the Chaucer
Originalsand
Society's
and

"

"

Analogues,'pp. 417, 436, 13 1-4.

THE

PRIORESS'S

LORD

Lord

our

Is in
For

this

only thy
is by
mouthis
by

But

Performed

in

Of

thee,

and

Which

that

tell

bounty,

and

tale

I will

do

unbumt

bush

is

and

maid6

may,

honour.
root

soul^s

mother

the

boot.^
!

free
Moses*

in

burning
from

alwAy,

labour

my

son,

or

maid

and

down

thine

sight,

deity,

ghost* that in
Of whose
hearth
virttie, he in thine
pig^^t,*
Conceived
the
father's
was
sapience,*
tell it in thy reverence
!
to
Help me
Through

Lady
Thy
There

That
But

That
"Praise.

the

us

unto

us

is

conning'
For

before

goest

gulden

My

the

to

I may
as

'light;

thee

thy greate

child

of

in

^jjelp.

men

to

pray

my

thee.

queen

worthiness,
sustain

months
word

any
*

blissful

wit

twelve

unnethfes^

can

ere

science

no

of thy benignity.
light through thy praydre,
thy Son so dear.

this

not
a

weak,

so

declare

in

express

time, Lady

gettest

To

tongue

no

some

Thou
And

humbldss,*

thy bounty, thy magnificence.

and
virtue
thy great humility,
may

For

she)

lily flower

is honour

ravishedst

best

her

I O

maid

children

increasen

her

next

of

of

whitfe

bare,

may

(quoth

precious

men

can

thee

mother

That

laud, as
of thy

herselven

she

Of

is

that

Not

For

high degree,
thy bounty
the
breast
sucking,
; on
they thine herying.^

showen

Wherefore

To

yspread

world

man'ellous

how

name

laudfe

not

timfe

thy

arg6

Performed

Some

TALE.

Humility.

old

or

less,

express,
*

Spirit.

"

Pitched.

"

Wisdom,

'

Skill.

Scarcely, with

difficulty.

TALES,

CANTERBURY

370

Right

so

Guideth

fare

song

my

therefore I you pray,

that I shall of you say.

I,and

Christian folks,
a
Asia, in a great city,among
land
for
that
the sake
of foul
Jewery, sustained by a lord of
There

in

was

It was
and villainous lucre.
very hateful to Christ and
his
the
street
to
men
might ride and go,
Through
company.
for it was
free and open at either end.
usury

A littleschool of Christian folk there stood,

there were
Down
at the farther end, in which
Christian
of
Children a heap, coraen
blood,
That learnfed in that schools year by year
usfed there ;
doctrine as men
Such manner
This is to say, to singen and to read,
As smallfe children do in their childhede.

years of age,
and he was

mother,

was
a widow's
son, a little clerk,seven
accustomed
to go day by day to school
;
he saw
the image of Christ's
taught,also,wherever

children

these

Among

that

was

"

to kneel

Avi

Maria^ as

he

adown, and
go'thby the

say
way.

Thus hath this widow her littlechjld )rtaught,

Our blissful Lady, Christfes mother dear,
To worship aye, and he forgotit nought ;
child will alway soon^ lere.^
For seely*
of this matt^re,
But aye, when I remember
in
stands
Nicholas*
Saint
ever
my presence,
For he so young
to Christ did reverence.

This littlechild,his littlebook

learning.
primdre,
Alma
heard^ sing.
Redemptoris^
As children learned their antiphonere;"
and near,*
And as he durst he drew him near
As

he

sat

in the school at his

And
hearkened
the wordfes and the note,
ever
could' all by rote.
Till he the firsts verse

wist he what this Latin was

to say,
of age ;
For he so young and tender was

Nought
*

* Learn.
Blessed.
*An
even
amusing old Legend says, "This man's holiness,
as in
future time it would be, appeared in the very cradle.
For whereas the
infant on each of the other week-days sucked of the nurse's milk again
and again ; he,on the fourth and the sixth (Wednesdays and Fridays),

and
being days of abstinence,abstained,

sucked

No wonder such a child became

eventide."
Children.
Saint of
"* O
benign (mother)of the Redeemer.
*

"

but

and that at
subsequentlythe Patron
once,

the Psalms.
phones (ourAnthems),Chantingaltemateversesof
*
Knew.
Nigher and nigher.

Anti

THE

But

PRIORESSES

TALE,

^71

day his

fellow 'gan he pray

him
this song in his language,
Expound
tell him what this song was
in usage.
him
he
and
to construe
pray'd
declare,
Full often time upon his knees bare.
on

To
Or
This

His fellow,which that elder was

than he,
him thus : "This
Answered
song, I have
makfed
of our
Was
blissful Lady free.
Her to salute,and eke her
To be our help and succour
I

can

I learnfe song

; I

can

when

in this

expound

more

no

for to

no

heard

say,

pray
we

dey ;*

mattdre,

grammdre."

more

"

made
is this song
in reverence
And
of Christ's mother?"
"
will
I
said this innocent.
with
Now, certes,
diligencelearn it
all ere Christenmass
be gone.
Although that for my primer I
shall be punished, and shall be beaten
thrice in an
hour, 1 will
learn it in order to honour
our
Lady."

taught him homeward

privily
day to day till he could-^ it by rote ;
And then he sang it well and boldfely,
From
word to word accordingto the note.
Twice on the day it passfed
through his throat
fellow

His

From

and

To

school^ward

On

Christfes mother

homeward

when

I have said,throughout the

littlechild,as he came

As

merrilythen would
RedemptorisI

0 Alma
The

sweetness

he

He

stint of

cannot

mo'.

ever

Christes mother, that

Of

to

his hearts

hath

to

singing

piercedso.

her to pray
by the way.

his

firstfoe,the serpent Sathanas, that hath

Jew's heart, up swelled, and said, "O Hebrew

Our
in

the

out

place in
cast

world.

of the

cursed

to

the

Jew seized

him

They

in

This

Jews conspired to chase

hired

have

homicide

child

began to
and held him fast,and

alley,and

an

law ? "

our

thenceforth

From

people,alas

despite,and

due

reverence

wasps* nest

thing,that such a boy shall walk as he

sing of such matter, which is against

honest

is this to you an
pleasesin your

Jew^ry
and fro,
and
sing
cry,

This

Full

he went

his intent.

set was

as

him

the

this innocent

that had

a privy
thereby,the

pass
cut

his throat and

pit.
waiteth

poorfewidow

After

her

For which

little

child,but

soon

as

it

as

all that

night
nought
dayfeslight,

he

was
'

Die.
2

"

comes

Knew,

TALE^.

CANTERBURY

3751

facfepale in dread,and busy thought,

She hath at school and "\\hs where him sought,
Till finally
she 'ganof him espy
last seen
That he was
in the Jewfery.
With

With mother's pityin her breast enclosed,

half out of her mind,
She go'th,as she were
To every placfe
where she hath supposed
By likelihood her childfe for to find ;
And
Christfes mother, meek and kind,
on
ever
and at the lastfe thus she wrought.
She cried,
Among the cursed Jewfesshe him sought.

She asketh and she prayeth piteouslyto every

Jew that
dwelled in that place to tell if her child went
aught by there.
"
They said, Nay." But Jesus,of his grace, gave her to think,
in a pit beside the
cast
within a short time, that her son
was
place where she cried for him.

p^rformestthy laud
innocents,lo here thy might !
By
of chastity,
this emeraud,*
This gem
eke of martyrdom the ruby i"iight,
Ana
There^ he with throat ycarven lay upright.
He Alma
Redemptoris'gan to sing.
So loud,that all the placebegan to ring.
O greats God, that
mouth

The
In

And

Christian folk that through the streets

this thing.
for to wonder
on
comen

hastilythey for

He

came

his

eke

tarrying

Christ,that

is of heaven

mother,

went,

the provost sent.

withouten

anon

herieth*

And

And
And

of

honour

of

king,
mankind,

after that the Jewfes let* he bind.

This

child,with piteouslamentation,
Up taken was, singinghis song alway.

And

with

They
His

of great procession,
carried him unto the next abb^y,

mother

Unnfethes
This newfe

torment, and

With

honour

swooning by the bierfe lay.

there,
might the people that were
Rachael bringen from the bier.
*

shameful

death, the provost

of these Jews to perish that knew

did it immediately. He would
pay no

one

each
of the murder, and he
respect to such wretches.
causes

Evil shall have, that evil will deserve ;

Therefore with wildfe horse he did them
draw,
And after that he hung them by the law.
*

Emerald.

Caused

to be bound.

Where.
*

Scarcelywere

'Blesses,praises.
the

peopleable.

THE

PRIORESS'S

his bier aye

Before the altar
And after that,the
Have
sped them

Upon

And

TALE.

373

li'th this innocent

whiles the massfe last ;
abbot with his convent
for to

bury

him

full fast ;

they holy water on him cast,

spake this child,when sprentet*was the water,
RedempiorisMater !
san^ O Alma

Yet
And

when

This

abbot, which that was a holy man,

(As monkfes be, or eWhs ought to be),
This younefe child to conjurehe began.
said

And

In virtue

'*

Oh

deare

child ! I halsfe^thee

of the

holy Trinity;
what
Tell me
is thy causfe for to sing.
Since that thy throat is cut, to my seeming

"

My throat is cut to the neck-bone," said the child; "and

naturally I should have died
yea, a long time ago, but Jesus
wills
that his glory lasts,
and be
find
in
Christ, as you
books,
"

remembered

And

for the

worship of
sing 0 Alma

his mother

dear,

loud and clear.

I
may
This well of mercy, Christes mother
sweet,
^
I loved alwiy, as after my
conning ;
Yet

when

And

bade

me

that I should give up my life,she came

to
have
in my
for to sing this anthem
death,as ye
and

when

Methought

she laid

Wherefore

In honour

that I had

grain und^r

and

heard

sung,

my

sing,and singfemust

me

tongue.

certain,

of that blissful maiden

free.

Till from my tongufetaken is the grain.

And after that thus said^ she to me :
*
My little child,now will I fetchen thee.

grain is

from

When

that the

Be not

aghast,I will thee

This

holy monk,

thy tongue ytake ;

not

"

forsake.'

this abbot, him

caught,and

I,

mean

took

the grain,
tongue
away
the
full
he
And
ghost
softfely.
gave up
this abbot had this wonder
And when
sayn,*
His

His

out

sake

tearfes striken* down

suddenly he fell flat upon

though he had been in bonds.
and

ground, and

as
lay still,

Sprinkled.

meaning, "embrace
"5a/j,neck.The abbot uses it as
"According to my knowledge.
2

the

rain ;

as

Literal

round
an

the

neck"

affectionate

*Seen.

"

from

the

conjuration.
*

Trickled.

Saxon

TALES,

CANTERBURY

374

The
convent
lay upon the pavement, weeping and thanking
and went
forth,
after that they rose
And
Christ's dear mother.
of
in a tomb
his bier ; and
their martyr from
and took away
There
sweet
body.
clear marble
stones
they enclosed his little
him
in heaven.
he is now, God incline us to meet
.

youngfe Hugh
cursed

With

For

That
us

For

it is

notable,

little while ago.

a
sinful folk unstable,
for
eke
us, we
of his mercy
God so merciable

it is but

Pray
On

! slain als6

of Lincoln

Jevv^s,as

his

greatfemercy

multiply
Mary.

of his mother

reverence

ON

REMARKS

Amen,

PRIORESS'S

THE

TALE.

of the Jews
the barbarous
treatment
by
Christians
ever
produced
during the middle
ages
and
^^s reaction so
monstrous
*"
apparently increthat of the crucifixion of a Christian
dible a crime
as
it
is
determine
difficult to
now
; but it is certain that
child,
the belief was
widelyspread, and equally certain that whole
hecatombs
the scaffold for their alleged
of Jews suffered on
[ H ETHER

^^
""

"

guilt.
by the Prioress in the last
recorded
was
Paris, who states that in the
verse
by Matthew
of
II
L
(a.d. 1244-5) eighteen Jews were
29th year
Henry
from
Lincoln, and hanged for crucifyinga
brought to London
buried
with great
The
child eight years uld.
child,Hugh, was
particularmurder

The

in

pomp

Lincoln

costly shrine

was

swept this away

spoken

Cathedral,
also erected
with

all the

and
over

of

canonized.
A
the remains.

other

treasures

of

very

rich and

Henry VIII.
the Cathedral,

in the
stone
important
choir
aisles of the
the spot.
southern
subsequently marked
and durable
A still more
interesting
memorial, however, exists
in an
old ballad, which
transcribe from the Percy Reliques.
we

and

The
**

nothing

Editor

than

more

remarks,

piece of raised

"

Italian
some
followingballad is probably built upon
*
Piioress's Tale'
to the
Legend, and bears a great lesemblance
also
have
in Chaucer
the
had
an
to
;
eye to the
poet seeins
well-known
story of Hugh of Lincoln,a child said to have been
there
murthered
The
conclusion of
in the reign of Henry III.
this biiUad appears
it probably contained
to be wanting ; what
may

The

be

seen
a

in Chaucer

corruption of

As
Milan

Mirry-land Toune, it is probably

Ccalled by the Dutch
Meylandt)

for

; the Pa

Town
not

sent

the

Po,

375

river Po, although the

Printed from a MS,
Milan."

evidentlythe

is

through

runs

TALE.

FRIORESSS

THE

"

Scotland,

from

rain rins doun

The

through Mirry-landtoune,

Sae dois it doiine the Pa :

Sae dois the lads of Mirry-landtoune
Quhan they play at the ba'.
Then

out
"

Said,
"

the Jewis dochttfr.

in and dine ?
Will ye cum
and

I winnae

in, I

cum

Without
Scho

cam

in,

cum

cannae

play-feres nine."

my

apple reid and white

thing in :
and reid,
white
apple

pou'd an

intice the zong

To

Scho

pou'd an

that the sweit

And

did win.

bairne

has taine out a littlepen-knife,

low down
by her gair,
the
has
twin'd
Scho
zong thing and his life;
A word he never
spak main
scho

And

And

the thick thick bluid,

And out and cam
the thin ;
And out and cam
the bonny hert's bluid ;
And out and cam
lifeleft in.
Thair was
nae
laid him

Scho

on

dressinghorde,

like

drest him

And

"

And

laughingsaid,

With

sweit

zour

swine.

Gae

and

now

play

nine."
play-feres

Scho rowd him in a cake of lead,

Bade him lie stilland sleip.
Scho cast him in a deip draw-well,

Quhan
And
Then
But

deip.

fadom
fifty

Was

bells

wer

rung,

lady went
ilka lady had her
Lady Helen had

and
hame

every

zong

mass

was

sung,

sonne.

nane.

Scho rowd hir mantil hir about,

And sair sair gan she weip ;
into the Jewis cast^I,
And she ran

Quhan they were

"

My bonny
I

"

pray

Sir

thee

lady,rin

Gin

ze

zour

all

asleip,

Hew, my pretty Sir Hew,

speik."
the deep draw-well

to me
to

sonne

wad

seik,"

Adige,
Copy

TALES.

CANTERBURY

376

Helen ran to the deip draw-well,

knelt upon her kne :
My bonny Sir Hew, and ze be here,
I pray thee speik to me."

Lady

And

"

lead is wondrous
heavy,mither,
well is wondrous
deip,
A keen penknife sticks in my hert ;
A word 1 dounae
speik.
"

The

The

Gne hame, gae hame, my mither deir,

F^etch me
my winding sheet,
And
toune
at the back o' Mirry-land
Its thair we
twa sail meet."
"

"

"

"

affectingcomposition,but we miss in it not only the

he ever
touches
of Chaucer's tale,but the exquisite
What
in his least important works.
a
throws
lovely
in, even
his
Alma
picture,for instance, is that of the child,singing
with fresh enjoyment, as he goes along the
Redempioris ever
has so pierced his
of Christ's mother
sweetness
! The
street
is an
coherence
This

heart, says the Prioress,

that to her to pray
He

cannot

stint

of singingby the

way.

are
Chaucer
Society's'Originalsand Analogues,'*
*
of
the
i.e,
Prioress's
like
the
Tale,'
stories
French,
two
verse
for
of
killed
an
by a Jew
English school-boy
13th century,
ing
sing-

In

the

Gaude

Maria;

beggar-boy

Lady,

Alma

murdered

2.

English, of the 14th century, of

by a Jew for singing an anthem

RedempiorisMater,
*

Pp. 253-285.

Pans
of

our

THE

NUN'S

widow,

POOR

TALE.

PRIEST'S

somewhat

bent,
in age,

Was

whilome*

Beside
This

In

thilk^

little

By

found'

Three

which

Of

poi^ant
diet

diet

gouih

The

apoplexy'
wine

voice
*

"
'

all

the

was

were

land

there
than

had

was

the

"

^injured not.

throat.

physic

for

white
with

most

dance

to

head.

she

an

red.

nor

white

egg

and

black,

found

no

two

or

"

lack,

of labourer.

a
a

cote.

sometimes

stick^s, and
she

her

bread, in which

kind

deal

sick

her

had, enclosed

which

her

hall.

meal.

never

she, neither

"
Kept.
Once, formerly.
contentedness
Sufficiency or

Seized

two.

suffisance.^

not

served

brown

she

yard

merrier

was

drank

ne

her

slender

never

nothing

shent^

eke

through

hearths

bacon, and

it

With

In

sent,

daughters

and

all her

let^ her

board

Singed

In

her

to

her

was

The

wife,

rent.

her

eke

bower,

made

exercise, and

as

as

and

passed

And

was

her

God

accordant

ne

Milk, and

she

sauce

was

Temperate

Her

and

fiill many
a
her needed

ate

morsel

Repletion

for

such

her

she

damty

No

last

was

tale,

my

you

simple life,

cattle

of

was

In

Her

she

full

herself,

sooty

No

I tellfe

that

cottige,

had
mo*
hirgh sow^s
she, and no
;
eke
kine, and
sheep that hight^ Mall.
a

Three

Full

dale.

her

was

husbandry

She

poor

day

led

patience

For

in

standing

of which

widow,

Since

dwelling in

grovh

all about

drife ditch
cock

hight
his

not

organ

merry
"

Was

of heart.

without,
Chanticleer.

equal
that

called.

for

crowing.

goes

on

"

Never

His

days

mass

Hindered.

bit.

378

'

CAHIEKBURY

TALES.

in the churches.
More
his crowing in his lodging
certain was
than is a clock or an abbey horologe. He knew
naturallyeach
of the equinoctial
fifteen
ascension
in that town
; for when
it
could not be
degrees were
risen,then he crowed so well that
exceeded.
redder than the fine coril,
His comb
was
it
And 'battled as
a castle wall ;
were
His bill was
black,and as the jetit shone ;
his leggfes
and his toen ;'
Like azure
were
His naiUs whiter than the lilyflower,
like the burnish

And

This gentle cock

sisters or wives,and

his coloiir.

gold was

'd

in his government
seven
hens, his
him
in
like
to
wondrously
colours,
had

the fairest hued in her throat

Of which
Was
Partelote,
clepM^ fair Damoselle
and debonair,
Courteous
she was, discreet,

sociable,and bare herself so well since the day since she

sevennight old,that trulyshe hath in possessionthe heart

and
was

of Chanticleer

him therewith.
He loved her so, that well was
But such a joy it was
to hear them
sing,
When
that the bright^sun
began to spring,
In sweet
accord, "My life is fair in land."^
For

at that

speak

and

time, as I have understood,beasts and birds could

sing. And it so befell that in a dawning

As

Chanticleer

Sat
And

next

This
as

his

on

among
perchfe that

him

in the

hall.

sat this fairfePartelote,

Chanticleer

gan

that in his dream

man

his wivfes all

was

is

groanen

in his

throat,

sorely,
oppressed.

And when that Partelot thus heard him roar,

She was
aghast,and said^,** Heartfe dear !
What
aileth you to groan in this mann^re
?
"
Ye be a very sleeper,
!
fye for shame

he

And

said in answer,
I dreamed
I was

"

it in sorrow.
By
mischief,justnow, that mine
heart is yet sorely affrighted. Now
God," quoth he, ** direct
dream
rightly,and keep my body out of foul prison. I
my
G

"

I pray
in such

you

not

to take

dreamed
that I roamed
up and down
I saw
whereas
a beast,
our
yard,
like a hound, and would
have made
arrest

how
Within
Was
'

Toes.

Called.

'

Most

probably a

well-known

song.

NVirs

THE

PRIESTS

TALE.

17^

Upon my body, and have had me dead.

betwixt yellowand red ;
His colour was
his tail and both his ears
And tippM was
With
of his hairs ;
unlike
the remnant
black,
His snout was
small, with glowing even tway ;
Yet of his look for fear 1 almost dey.^
This
"

without

Away

doubt

!"
"

caused

quoth

to

me
"

Partelote

groan."

fie on

you,

Alas," quoth she, "for by that God

heartless."

above,

heart and all my love

ye lost my
love a coward, by my faith.
I cannot
For cert^s,what so any woman
saith,
have

Now

all desiren, if it

We

To

mights be,
husbandfes,hardy, rich,and free.
secret, and no niggard,ne no fool.
him that is aghast of every tool- ;

have

And

Nor
nor

no

in heaven.

boaster,by the God

Have

! and

God

knows,

your love
you afeard ?
heart,and have a beard i

durst ye say for shame

any thing might maken

How
That

Alas

ye

no

mannas

unto

!
ye be aghast of dreams
is there in dreaming.
Dreams

can

of

Nothing but vanity,

are
engendered

repletions

And oft of fume, and of complexions,

in a wight.
humours
be too abundant
When
Certes this dream which ye have met' to night
Cometh

of the great superfluity

Of your^ redd^ cholera,parde ;
in their dreams
folk to dread
which
causeth
of arrows,
and
of fire with red flames, of red beasts that will bite them, of
of
contests, and of wasps, great and little; justas the humour
in
for
fear
of
causeth
his
to
man
a
melancholy
sleep,
many
cry
bulls,and of black bears, or else black devils,that will take
them.
could I tell also.
Of other humours
in sleepfull woe
That worken
a
man
;
many
I can.
But I will pass as lightly
as
wise a man,
Lo Cato, which that was
so
Saith he not thus, Ne do no force* of dreams ?
Now
sir,quoth she, when we flyfrom the beams.
For godd^s love,as take some
laxatife.
Up* perilofmy soul and of my life,
"

'

Die,

Weapon,

'

Dreamed,

Take

no

heed.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

3So

I counsel you the best,I will not lie,

That both of choler and melinrholy
Ye purgfeyou ; and for ye shall not tany,
Though in this town is no apothecary,
herbis teachen you
I shall myself
two
That shall be for your heal

|
I
I

in our
and for your profit And
yard I shall find the herbs
the property to purge you.
which have naturally
.

"

love ;
Forget not this for Goddte owne
Ye be full choleric of complexion ;
'Ward^ the sun in his ascension
hot ;
Ne find you not repletein humours
And
if it do, I dare well laya groat,
That ye shall have a fever tertian,
Or else an ague, that may be your bane.
A day or two, ye shall have digestives
Of wormfes,ere ye take your laxatives
Of laureole,
centaury, and fiimetere,
Or else of hellebore that groweth there,
Of catapucfe,
or of gaitreberries,*
Or herb ivy,growing in our yard,that
merry is ;
Peck them up, rightas they grow, and eat them in ;
Be merry, husband, for your father kin,
Dreadeth
*'

But

no

dreamfes

I can

say

no

more.**

^^

Madime," quothhe, grand mercy of

as touchingDan
Catoun,
nath^Iess,

such a great renown

hath of wisdom
bade
dream^s for to
that
he
no
Though
in
oId"
book^s read
men
God,
By
may
Of many
of authority
more
a man
Cato was"
Than ever
That

So may

thrive, that
"

say all the

reverse

your

lore ;

dread.

of this ;

And have well founden by experience,

That dream"s be significations,
As well of joy as tribulations.
That folk enduren in this life present.
There needeth make of this no argument,

the very trial sheweth it truly.

of the greatest authors that
One
that once
two friends

men

saith
read, [Cicero,]

went

On pilgrimagein
And happened so
Whereas
there was
*

'

the

full

good intent ;
into a town
they came

such congregatioun

Beware.

Catapuce is a

dog-wood.

kind

of spurge

gaitreberries

are

the berries of

strait of herbergage,*

people,and

Of

That

eke so
found
not
they

In which

381

TALE.

PRIESTS

NUN'S

THE

much

as

as

cottage,

they might both ylodgfedbe ;

of necessity,
they musten

that

Wherefore
for that

night,departen company,
go'thto his hostelry.
took his lodging as it would^ fall.
of them
Thdt
was
one
lodged in a stall,
of the plough ;
with
in
Far
oxen
a yard,
That other man
was
lodged well enow.
his adventure or his fortt^ne,
As was
As

And
And

each

of them

that

commonly

governs

us

all.

And so befell that,long ere it were

day,
met^ in his bed, there as he lay,
This man
him call.
How
that his fellow gan upon
And
said,* Alas ! for in an ox's stall
This night I shall be murdered
there I lie.
dearfe
I die :
brother
I
Now
or
help me,
he
In allfehastfe come
said.
to me,'
This man
out of his sleepfor fear abraid ;"
wakM
But when that he was
out of sleep
He turned him, and took of this no keep ;
Him
thought his dream was but a vanity.
dreamM
Thus tw'xes in his sleeping
he.

And
at the third time his
slain ;
and said,* Now
I am

companion

he

as

came^

thought,

Behold my bloody wound^s

deep and wide.
Arise up earlyin the morrow
tide,
And at the west gate of the town
(quoth he)
A cart" full of dung there shalt thou see.
In which my body is hid full privily
;

boldly arrest
And

murder.

that cart
he told him

My

gold, truth

to

say, caused

pointhow

he

was

every

my

slain,

With a full piteousfacfe,

pale of hue.
And trusteth well,his dream he found full true
For on the morrow,
as
soon
as it was
day,
To his fellow^s inn he took his way.
And when that he came
to this ox's stall.
he
After his fellow
began to call.
The hostMer answ^rfed him anon,
And said^,' Sir,your fellow is agone;
of the town.'
As soon
out
as day he went

This
'

man

began

So straitened for

to fall in

suspicion,remembering

lodging-room.

'

Dreamed.

"

what

Started.

he

CANTERBURY

382
had

and

dreamed,

unto

the

went

to

forth he

gate of the

west

TALES,

goes

town,

longer would
a
dung

no

"

and

found

he

delay
"

cart,

as

it

land,

manure

That
And

the sam" wise

the deadfe man
devise ;

arrayedin

was

ye have

As

with

heard

hardy heart he gan to cry

Vengeance ancfjusticeof this felony!
is this samfe night,
My fellow murdered
And in this cart he li'th gapingupright.*
I cry out on the ministers
(quoth
he)
That should^ keep and rulen this city :
a

"

'

Harow

Why
and

should

I say

the cart

cast

they discovered
O

The people rushed

in the middle
of the
murdered.

of this tale?

more

the

to

fellow slain ! '

li'th my

! alas ! here

the man,

blissful God

ground,
newly

how that thou

will out :
Murder

is

loathsome
and abominable
Murder
to God, who
so
and just,
that he will not suffer it to be buried.
Murder

it aWde

will out

dung

art full

is

Though

out,

justand true,
betrayestmurder alwiiy:

! thou

Lo,

and

year,

; this

or

two,

is my

or

able
reason-

three.

conclusion.

immediately the ministers of the place have seized the

carter, and so sorelytortured him, and also so sorelyracked the
hostler, that they acknowledged their wickedness, and were
hanged by the neck.
And

be
that dreams
to
are
certainlyI read in the same
book, in the very
talk not idly so may
I have joy and bliss)
Here

ye

see

may

and

chapter (1

next

"

"

Two

dreaded

men

that would

have

passfedover

sea,

certain causes, into far country.

If that the wind ne haddfe been contrary ;
That made them in a cityfor to tarry.
side.
That
stood full merry
a haven
upon
But on a day, againstthe even
-tide,
The wind 'ganchange, and blew rightas
and glad they wenten
unto
rest.
Jolly
And casten^ them
full early for to sail ;
But to that one
fell a great marvdille
man

For

He,

as

he

dreamed
lay sleeping,
Him
And

him

And

said him

thought a

man

commanded

thus

wondrous

they lest.*

dream,

stood by his beddfes side

that he should
abide.
'
If thou to-morrow
wend,*

thou shalt be drowned.'

*

On

his back.

Desired,

Planned.

Depart.

THE

NUN'S

TALE.

PRIESTS

383

woke, and told his fellow what he had

prayed him to delay his voyage ; he prayed him
for that day.
He

dreamed,

do

I will

that

delay to
dreamings. Dreams

all

day

Men
I

see

'

dream,' quoth he,

No

may

vanities

but

heart

my

business.

my
are

so

dream

of

apes, and also of many

things that were
not, nor

that

thou

thy tide,God

wilt here
knows

And
But

thus
he

ere

am

aghast*

not

and

of owls

but

straw

tricks.

Men

care

and

remain

to

His fellow that lay by his bedd^s

side
him full fast
'Gan for to laugh, and scorned

and

for

thy

dream

bewildering fancy.

shall

thus
for
stay, and
for
it. Have
sorry

be.

But

since

sloth

wilfullylose
good day !
'

he took his leave,and went

his way.
haddfe half his course
ysailfed,

I not why,' ne what

mischance
it ailed,
casuallythe shippfesbottom rent.
under the water
And ship and man
went.
there beside,
In sightof other shippfes
N'ot

But

That with him sailed at the samfe

And therefore fairfe Partelot so
such

By

examples

oldfe

many

dream

lere*

may'st thou

should^ be so
That no man
Of dream^s ; for I say thee
That

tide.

dear.

full

reckfeless

doubtfeless.
is for to dread.

sore

Lo, in the life of St. Kenelm, that was

noble king of Mercia, I read how
Kenelm

Kenulphus*s
dreamed

son,

thing

murdered
littletime before he was
his murderer
saw
; he
His nurre
vision.
bit
of
his dream
expounded every
well
and bade him to guard himself
from
treason
;
But
And
Of

he

dream,

any
ye

had

Shortly I
That

read his

say

ne

seven

as

was

for

in
to

old ;

years
he

told
his heart.

lever"* than

I shall have

shirt

my

legend,as

I.

have

conclusion,

of this avis'ion*

I say furthermore,
tell'**
of laxatives no
store
;

Adversity;
That

holy

so

I hadd6

By God,
That

n'as but

little tal^ hath

therefore

ard

For

I wot
it well ;
they be venomous,
I them defy ; I love them
never
a del.'
Now
let us speak of mirth, and stint all this.
Madim^
have
I bliss,
so
Partelot,
'
*

Make

aghast.

Rather.

*
*

Vision.

j know
^

not

why.

Reckon.

"
.

'

Never

the

Learn.
a bit.

a
a

him

384

CANTERBURY

TALES.

Of one
thing God hath sent me larg"grace,
For when
I see the beauty of your face,
Ye be so scarlet red about your eyen,
It maketh
all my dreads for to dien ;
For

all

Mulier

(Maddm,
Woman
For

siker*

so

that I

In principio
confusio^

the sentence
of this Latin is,
is mannfes joy and mannas
bliss.^

when

I feel

"

as

est hominis

a-nightyour

am

so

softfeside
"

"

"

full of

joy and

defy both dreams

and

of

"

soldce,

visions."

And
with that word he flew down
from the
and
his
For it was
eke
hennas
all,
day ;
And
with a chuck he 'gan them for to call,
For he had found a corn
lay in the yard.
afeard.
Royal he was, he was no more
"

"

He looketh as it were
a grim leo6n,
And on his toes he roameth
up and"dovvn
Him

deigned not

to

set his foot to

beam,

ground :
yfound,

He chucketh when he hath a corn

And to him runnen
then his wives alL
Thus royalas a princeis in his hall,
Leave I this Chanticleer in his pastiire,

'

And

after will I tell his adventure.

When
That
Was

that the month

in which

the world

hightfeMarch, when God first mak^d

complete,and ypassfedwere also.

began
man,

Since March

two
began, tway months, and dayfes
Chanticleer
that
in
all
his
Befell,
pride.
His seven
wivfes walking by his side,
Cast up his eyen to the bright^sun,
had yrun
That in the sign of Taurus
Twenty degreesand one, and somewhat
more,
He knew
by kind,*and by no other lore.
That it was
with blissful Steven,*
prime,and crew
"
The sun,**he said," is clomben
up on heaven
Twenty degreesand one, and more
ywis.*
worldfes
Maddm^
bliss,
Partelot,
my
Hearkeneth
these blissful birdfes,
how
they sing ;

And

see

Full

is mine

these

freshfeflow'res how

heart

of revel and

they spring;

soUce

But suddenly him fell a sorrowful case,^

For ever
the latter end of joy is woe
;
God wot that worldlyjoy is soon
ago.^
*

"
"

Surely.
nature.
Instinct,
A sorrowful hap

is man's
Latin is " Woman
* Voice.
* Ywis
of
^
befell him.
Gone.
*

The

"

confusion,"
a

certainty.

NUAtS

THE
ifa rhetorician
chronicle as a

And
in

let him

man

true

of Lancelot

hearken

will I

A col-fox,
full of
three years.

again to

turn

me

undertake,
du Lake,

hold in full great

women

Now

38S

sovereignnotability.

is the book

That

TALE.

fairlyindite,he might safelywrite it

could

Now
every wise
This story is all so
As

PRIESTS

reverence.

sentence.

my

in the

that had dwelled

sly iniquity,

grove

By high imaginationforecast,
broke

through the hedges the same

night,into the yard where
the fair Chanticleer was
And
wont
to
repair with his wives.
in the bed of herbs he lay there till it was
of
nine
the
past
clock,
Waiting his
As

Chanticleer to fall j
on
these homicides
all

time

gladlydo

that lie in ambush

to murder
people.
O false murderer, lurking in thy den,
O

I^
Ganelon
Iscariot,
newe
Falsfe dissimular,
O Greek
Sinon
;
That broughtestTroy all utterlyto
new

sorrow

Chanticleer 1 accursed be the morrow

That thou into the yard flew from the beams
;
Thou
full well ywarn^d by thy dreams,
wert
That thilk^ day was
perilousto thee.
But

what

After the

Witness

that in schools

that God

forewot^

must

need^s

be

opinion of certain
him

on

that any

clerkfes.
perfectclerk is,

is great altercations

there

in the

matter,

and

great disputes,
hath

And
But

whether
to

do

to
^

his

can

Or

Boece,

do

same

Ganelon

holy
or

thousand
a hundred
boult it to the brens
doctor Augustine,

of

the

men.

Bishop Bradwardin,

God's

worthy foreknowledge compelleth me necessarily

else if free choice be granted me
or
thing ;
thing or not to do it,though God foreknew it
...

is said to have

been

an

officerof

Charlemagne's,who, by

the loss of the great battle of Roncevaux, and the

He was, the Romance
tells us, torn in piecesby wild

caused
treachery,

death of Roland.
horses ; and his
kind of treason.
'

the

As

that

that

been

yet I cannot

Foreknew.

name

became

for centuries synonymous

"

with the

Sift it to the bran.

worst

CA^r"KBVRY

3S6

TALES.

wrought ; or if his knowledge compelleth me

bit,except by conditional necessity.

before it was
a

not

I will

have to do of such mattdre

not
:
shall hear,
tale is of a cock, as
ye
That took his counsel of his wife with sorrow.
To walken in the yard upon
the morrow^

My

dreamed

that he had

counsels
counsel

Womennfes
Womenn^s
And

as

women's

be full often cold ;

full merry,

was

firstto woe,

Paradise

to

and

go,

well at

ease.

whom
I might offend,if I
advice,pass it over, for I said ii in my

for I know

But

he

I told you.

as

brought us

from

Addm

made

There

dream,

the

npt

to

were

blame

game.

Read authors,where they treat of such mattdre,

hear :
And what they say of women
ye may
These be the cock^s word^s,and not mine ;
harm
of no womdn
divine.
I can none
bathe
in
the
her
Fair
sand,to
merrily,
and all her sisters by.
Li'th Partelot,
Against the sun ; and Chanticleer so free

Sang

than the mermaid

merrier

in the

sea

(For Physiologus^sayeth sikerly

that they singen well and merrily.)
How
befell that as he cast his eye
the worths,*on a butterfly,
He
'ware of this fox that lay full low ;
was
Nothing ne list him thennfe for to crow.
" Cok
But cried anon
! Cok ! " and up he start
And

so

Among

As

that

man

For

in
affrighted

was

naturallya

beast

desireth

his heart ;
flee

From

his contrary, if he may

it see.
he
had
it with his eye.
ne'er
erst
seen
Though
he 'ganit espy,
This Chanticleer,
when
He

would

but that me
have fled,
fox anon
Gentle sir,alas ! where will ye gone
that am
ye afraid of me
your friend
"

Said,
Be
Now

certes

were

worse

than

If I to you would*
harm or
I am
not
come
your counsel

But
Was
For
As
'
"

Middle

?*

any fiend.
villany.
to espy.

of my
truelythe cause
coming
how
for
hearken
to
only
;
ye smg
truelyye have as merry a steven*
any angelhath that is in heaven ;

Age work
Vegetables, herbs.

on

Natural
*

Go.

History.
"

Intended.

Xruly sayeth.
"

Voice.

THE

NUirs

Therewith

ye have

Than

Boece, or

had

TALE.

PRTESrs
of music
any

feeUng'
sing.

more

that

387

can

My lord,your

father (God his soul^ bless 1)

And eke your mother of her gentleness,
Have
in my house ybeen to my great ease,
And certes,sir,
full fain I would
you please.
But for men
speak of singing,I will say,
SO

may

use

two

my

Save

eyes,
ne

you,

heard

never

man

so

sing

As did your father in the morrowning.i

of heart all that he sung.
Certes it was
his voice the morfe strong,
And
for to make
He would so pain him^ that,with both his eyen,
He mustfe wink,*so loud he wouldfe crien.
And stonden on his tiptoestherewithal,
And
stretchen forth his neckfe long and small
of such discretion
And eke he was
in no region
That there n* as no man
That him in song or wisdom
mights pass.
I have well read in * Dan Bumel, the ass,'*
Among his verses, how there was a cock.

That,

for

Upon

his

son
priestfes
leg,while he

him

gave
was

young

knock

and

nice,*

made him for to lose his benefice.

But certain there is no comparison
He

Betwixt the wisdom

and discretion
Of your father and of his subtilty.
Now
singeth,sir,for Saints Charity!
Let see, can you your father counterfeit ? "
This Chanticleer his wingfes'gan to beat
As
So

that could

man

he

was

ravished

his treason
with his

not

espy.

flattery.

false flatterer is in your

court, and
deceiver
that
better
than he
a
pleases
by
faith,
you,
my
many
Ecclesiastes
unto
Read
that
on
speaks truly
you.
flattery.
Beware, ye lords,of the treacheryof such men.

Alas,

ye

lords, many

Chanticleer
stood high upon
his toes, stretchinghis
loudly for the
neck, and held his eyes shut,and began to crow
Dan
and
started
the
at
and
Russel,^
occasion,
fox,
once,
up
seized him
by the throat, and bore him on his back toward
the wood, for yet there was
no
man
pursued him.
This

destiny that

may

not

be avoided

Alas ! that Chanticleer flew from the beams

Alas ! his wife ne raughtfe'
not of dreams.
*

Morning.

Latin

exert
Strain,

satirical poem.

supposed,from

the russet

" Shut
himself.
* Foolish.

colour of his coat.

2

'

both
^

his eyes.
So called,it is

Recked

not.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

388

befeU.
Geoffrey,*
Friday all this mischance
thy worthy king, Richard,
dear sovereign master, that when
death
why
slain with shot,complainedst so sorelyof his
was
the
as
chide
ye
Friday,
have I not now
thy Jore and science to
could I
Then
killed.
Richard
was
did : for on
a
Friday truly
and pain.
how I would lament for Chanticleer's fright
show
And

on

"

you

Tertamly such

cry,

lamentation
I lion
of ladies made, when
Was
never
with his straights
swerd,
Was
won, and Pyrrhus
the
Priam
beard,
by
hent^
he had
King
When
And slain him (as saith us Eneidos")
all the hennes in the close,^
As maden
When
they had seen of Chanticleer the sight.
c"r

Partelotil shright.*
Dame
But sovereignly,
wife
Hasdniballes
did
than
Full louder
his life,
lost
haddfe
that her husband
When
had yburnt Carthdge
that the Romans
And
and of rage,
She was
so full of torment
"

That
And
O

the fire she start

burnt herselven with a steadfast heart.
woful hennas ; rightso crieden ye.
into
wilfully

the city
As when that Nero bumtl
Of RomS, cried the senatour^s wives,
losten all their lives ,
For that their husbands
hath them slain.
Nero
this
Withouten
guilt,
will I turn to my matt^re again :
Now
The silly*
widow, and her daughterstwo,
these hennes cry and maken
woe,
Hearden
starten
door^s
they anon,
And out at
the fox toward the grove is gone,
And saw
:
And bare upon his back the cock away
"
They crieden out, Harow ! and wala wa !
*'
ha, the fox ! and after him they ran.

Ha,
And
Ran

another man
;
Garland
and
dog, and Talbot,
Malkin, with a distaff in her hand ;

eke with
Coll our

staves

many

And
and eke the very hogs
and calf,
Ran cow
for
fearM
barking of the dogs.
So
were
eke
and women
of
the
men
And shouting
break
heartes
their
They runn^ that them thought
hell.
do
in
They yelledenas fiendfes
would them quell;^
The duckfes crieden as men
the trees ;
geese for fearfeflew ovdr
of bees ;
the
hivfe
swarm
Out of the
came
I
ah
benediciie
the noise,
So hideous was
The

Certes

"
"

Of Monmouth.
Shrieked.

ne

Jackfe Straw, and his menie,8

"
"

Seized.

="

Simple.

'

* Yard,
tells us.
8 Followers.
Kill,destroy.

As the iCneid

half

shout^s never
Ne maden
that
When
they woulden
made
As thilk^ day was

any

upon

389

so
shrill,
Fleming kill,

the fox.

of bone,
brass,of box, of horn, and

of

They brought horns

TALE.

PRIESTS

NUirs

THE

pooped.
therewithal they shrieked and they hoopfed;

And
It seemed

as

they blew

which

and

fall.

should^

that heaven

harkeneth
Now, good^ men, I pray you
Lo, how fortune turneth suddenly
The hope and pride eke of her enemy.
the fox's back
This cock that lay upon
the fox he spake,
unto
In all his dreadj^
I were
that
as yej^
if
And
said^ : Sir,

I say

would
Turneth

Yet
"

very

Now

am

come

churlfes all !
fall !

this woodfes side,

cock shall here abide ;
the
head,
unto

Maugre your
and that anon."
j will him_eat^in faith,
it shall
.

"
The fox answer 'd, In faith
while he spake that word, all
And

the cock broke

"

help me,)

(as wisly,^God

again,ye proud^
pestilenceupon you

all,

from
swiftly

his

be done

! '*

suddenly

mouth,

And high upon a tree he flew anon.

that he was
ygone,
And when the fox saw
'*
alas !
"
O
"
Chanticleer,
he,
Alas !
quoth
I have

you,"quoth he, "ydone trespass,

to

Inasmuch
When

as

I makfed

you

hent,"and

I you
sir,I did it in

afeard,

broughtout

yard.

of the

wick^ intent :
no
But,
I meant
;
Come
down, and I shall tell you what
so."
I shall say sooth to you, God help me
bothfe two,
"
Nay then, quoth he, I shrewe* us
both blood and bonfes.
And firstI shrew myself,
than onfes ;
oftener
If thou beguileme
shalt no morfe through thy flattery.
Thou
with mine eye.
Do me* to sing,and winken

he that winketh
allows to thrive.*'

For

"

when
wilfully,

he

"*
God
Nay," quoth the fox, but

That
That

so

his

peace."

and

negligent,
Lo, what it is to be reckless
tale
a folly,
this
flattery. But ye that hold
and

Certainly.

never

givehim mischance,

indiscreet of governance,
hold
jangleth,when he should^
is

see, God

should

Seized.

Wicked.

Curse.

to

put

trust

Make

me"

in

VANTERBURV

390

TALES.

of a fox,or of a cock,or hen.

Take the moralitythereof,
good

As

saith,that all that is written

written certainly.

for Saint
is

men

Paul

Taketh

to our

doctrine,it

and let the chaff be still.

fruit,
Now, goodfeGod, if that it be thy will.
all good men,
As saith my lord,so make
us
all
And
bliss. Amen,
to
us
high
thy
bring

ON

REMARKS
HAT

to

the

THE

NUN'S

PRIEST'S

TALE.

Dryden could not improve, but found it easy

Chaucer, we have already endeavoured
deteriorate,

in our
Remarks
the Knight's and the
on
We
him
Wife
of Bath's Tales.
have
there
seen
the
with
the
the
turns
.suhUme?
dealing by
sugfiinaXural,
and
and
ever
tnesimply_4)rifitical,
pathetir,the rhi^akpus,
to

exhibitinga

show

of the
deficiencyof the highest manifestations
divine;"*^
thus
and
the faculty
rendering more

and
"vision
evident by the contrast
wonderful
height,and

be

has

so

imprudentlyprovoked,the

completeness,and

inexhaustible

wealth
of his great original. To
complete this contrast, Dryden has
Nun's Priest's Tale, a story of pure
his
of
version
the
given us
humour ; and which, by its very perfectionin Chaucer, tends
to shut out criticism by leaving it nothing to do but to enjoy
is poured through it in as rich,and
and to praise. Humour
and
constant
a
deep,
stream, as through the most distinguished
of the merely humorous
productionsof our literature ; but is
also accompanied by a subtle and delicate spirit there hangs
it a poeticaltransparent atmosphere
that the merely
over
of
writers know
humorous
nothing
themselves,and of course
for others.
In this,as in nearly all
therefore create
cannot
"

"

other
when

resembles
Shakspere ; each
respects, Chaucer
one,
he chooses
to put forth his strength,excels
all other

limited spheres of excellence.

What
own
for
law
this
the
is
of education,the equal
true
an
argument
development of all the faculties ! There has probably been no
greater mistake ever made, whether in education or legislation,
than is involved in the supposiin political
or in social economy,
tion
that there is any real gain to be obtained
by the partial
other of God's gifts. What
is true of a
or
neglect of some
in his positionat the top of the intellectual scale,may
Chaucer
of men, in their position,
be equallytrue of the mass
far lower
down
writers

even

in their

THE

NUN'S

PRIESTS

TALE.

391

One oi'the most

of the Nun's
striking
passages
is that relating
to the carrying off of the Cock
back.
Let us compare
Chaucer
and Dryden.

Priest's

Tale,
Fox's

the

on

Chaucer.
The

and

sillywidow,

Hearden
And

out

at door^s

And

saw

the Fox

And

bare

These
lines
describe.

are

her

daughters two,

these hennas

upon

cry and maken

started they anon,

toward

the Cock

and

hurried

quick

as

the grove

his back

woe,
is gone,

away.

the

as

incident

then

DRYDEN

givesus

The tremblingwidow, and her daughterstwain,

This woeful cacklingcry with horror heard,
Of those distracted damsels
in the yard,
And

How
And

The

startingup beheld the heavy sight,

Reynard to the forest took his flight,
'cross his back, as in triumphant scorn,
hope and pillarof the house was borne.

So we perceivethe widow
must
first outcry of the hens, instead

be

"

trembling '
in Chaucer, a

one

at

the

"

silly"or
of,as
"
horror "
hear with
simple one ; she and her daughters must
instead of running, as they do in Chaucer, to see firstwhether
there is anything to be horrified about ; and
the result is,that
when
lost
has
climax
he most
all
of
a
making
Dryden
power
wanted
it that is,when
they see the Fox with the Cock on his
back
and therefore he does not
attempt it. In place of the
of :
dramatic
and simply natural exclamation
"

"

Chaucer
"

! and

Harow

waia

wa

the Fox!''

Ha

Ha,

"

JJryden must
true line,

content

himself

with

the

neither

dramatic

nor

Dryden,
"

And

all

Chaucer's
natural

echo

The

Fox

I the wicked

Fox

was

all the

cry."

is the same
faith on
of
faith
want
on
Dry den's, in the
vigorous and rapid how perfect an

through the descriptionthere

part, the

same

How
simplicities.

of sound

to sense"

"

the

are

followinglines !

Chaucer.
and
And

eke with staves

after him
many

they ran,

another

man

CANTERBURY

392
Ran
And

Col

TALES,

dog,and Talbot,and Garlind,

our

Malkin, with

distaff in her hand

and calf ; and eke the very hogs

Ran cow
fearfed
for barking of the dogs,
So
were
of
and women
the men
And shouting
eke,
They runnfe,that them thought their hearths break
They yelledenas fiendfesdo in hell.
would them
The duckfes crieden as men
quell;i

geese for fearfeflew ov^r the trees ;

of the hivfe came
of bees ;
the swarm
the noise,ah henediate I
So hideous was
Certes,ne JackfeStraw,and his menie,
shoutfes never
half so shrill,
Ne maden
When
that they woulden
any Fleming kill,
As thilkfe day was
made upon the Fox.
Of brass thev broughten homfes, and of box,
Of horn, and bone, in which they blew and poopfed.
And therewithal they shrieked,and they hoopfed.
It seem'd as that the heaven should^ fall.
The
Out

hand, how
correspondinglines by
On

the other

wordy and full of exaggerationare

the

Dryden.
Out

from

his house

ran
every neighbournigh,
Vicar first,
and after him the crew,
With
forks and staves the felon to pursue ;
Ran Coll our dog, and Talbot with the band,
And
Malkin
with her distaff in her hand ;
and familyof hogs.
Ran cow
and calf,
In panic horror of pursuing dogs,
With many
doleful squeak ;
a deadlygrunt and
Poor swine,as ii their prettyhearts would
break.
The shouts of men, tAe women^
in dismay^
With shrieks augment the terror of the day.
The ducks that heard the proclamationcried,
And fear'd a persecution might betide,

The

Full

twenty mile

Obscure

in rushes

from

their voyage
liquidlake.

The geese flyover

the barn ; the
Drive headlong from their waxen
Jack Straw at London-stone,with
Struck not the citywith so loud a
Not when

take.

town

of the

bees

in

arms

cells in swarms.
all his rout.
shout

with

Englishhate theydid pursue

A Frenchman^ or an unbelieving
Jew ;
Not when the welkin rung with one
and all,.
And

Earth

echoes
seemed

bounded
back from Fox's hall ;
to sink beneath, and Heaven
above

Kill,destroy.

to fall.

THE

NUirS

PRIEST'S

TALE.

With

might and main they chac'd the murderous

With brazen trumpets and inflated box,
To kindle Mars with militarysounds ;
Nor wanted horns to inspiresagacioushounds.

The

carelessness
extraordinary

evidenced

by the introduction

or

393

Fox

of artistical skill
deficiency

lines,with the
"military sounds," after the
properlybelonged had been brought
strike every one.
But all through, Chaucer's
to a close,must
delicate and spirit-mspiring
champagne is changed by Dryden
into what is at the best but a " strong full-bodied port,"as the
vintners say.
In Chaucer
the thing itselfis brought before us ;
the flesh-and-blood
the true country, the very aroma
of
rustics,
to rise from the page ; Dryden's is justsuch a
hay-fieldsseems
and
rough
vigorousdescriptionof the thing as an able poet,
from a distance
to enjoy the country
always accustomed
be
be
able
And
to
to
the
give; no more.
might
expected
is the
transactions,
strangest part of all these strange literary
in
is
fact ever
the
all
that
in
that
staringus
face,
good
Dryden,
with few, if any, exceptions,belongs to Chaucer
all that
; and
is bad in Dryden is his own
unquestionableproperty.

"Mars"
about
nonsense
to which
description
they

of the

last four

and

"

"

of the Nun's Priest's Tale is to be found in the

The
germ
collection of ^Esopean and other fables by a French
poetess of
of Marie, and she states she obtained it from an Anglothe name
translation of the Latin,made
Saxon
by no less a personage
than the good and great King Alfred. Tyrrwhittgivesthe passage
in French
from Marie as a convincing proof how able Chaucer
excellent Tale out of very small materials,
to work
was
up an
be littledoubt
that Chaucer
But there can
got the idea of his
du Renart^
Dream, and the hunt after the fox,from the Roman
which
Marie's
short
fable
of
lines
into
These
38
expands
454.
with English side-notes,
are
by Dr. Furnivall,in the
reprinted,
*
and
Chaucer's
Analogues,'
Society'sOriginals
pp. 117-126,preceded
by Marie's fable,on p. ri6. There is also a Latin version
p. 1 14, and Professor B. ten Brink's letter containingit should
be read.

order

vice,
of

avoid

to

which

the

TALE.

NUN'S

SECOND

THE

men

in

Delight

of

Gate

minister

the
call

and

English
and

"

the

unto

nurse

the

Idleness,
porter
her
opposite, that

by

to
Business,
her,
by lawful
overpower
do
lest
that
the
our
ought certainly to
we
utmost,
idleness.
seize
fiend
through
our
us

is

he

For

him
is

he

ought
And

though

leash

only for

others
To

put

from

have

legend

idleness,

is

seized

in

catch

can

by the skirt,
there; well, fore,

hand

idleness.

die, yet

is the

they, doubtless,

of

root

lo I sloth

And

continually

in

him

to

see

sloth, of which
holdeth

and

drink,

eat, and

sleep,

to

labour

to

cometh.

ever

he

resist

idleness

that

well, by reason,
good increase

taken

dread

never

men

until

hath
and

cords

subtle

man

that

trap

work,

to

we

thousand

espy

fieod

the

aware

his

may

his

in

lightly

not

with

he

when

us,

so

say,

waiteth

that

catch

to

to

in

them

devour

to

no

all

that

for.
is

idleness, that

such

us

done

here

business

my

of

cause

faithfully to

great

fusion,
con-

translate

the

"

Thou

glorious life and

thy garland, wrought

of this

Right

with

Thee

I,

mean

maid

thou, that

and

flower

passion,
with

Saint

martyr,

lily.

and

rose

Cecily.^

of

virginfes all,
well to write,
so
To
thee at my
beginning first I call,
Thou
of us
comwrt
wretches, do me^ endite.
Thy maiden's
death, that won
through her merfte
Th'
eternal
the fiend victory,
life,and over
And

Of

As

Thou

thou

bounty,

chose

earthly being
did

not

man

maid

mercy;

disdain

whom

and

to

readen

mother,
sinful

dwell

thou

madest

lust

in

her

in

souls,

thou
so

story.
of

daughter

of

cure

after

may

art

Bernard

that

whom

humble,
noble

thy

our

Cecilia.

Make

thou

that

yet

high

nature,

"

son

me.

God,
above

that

the

well

of

of

his

every

Maker

THE

His

NUITS

SECOND

395
wind.

flesh to clothe and

in blood and

son

TALE.

Within

the blissful cloister of thy sides took man's shape, the

Eternal Love, and Peace, that is Lord and guide of the Trinity,
whom
unceasingly praise.
earth,and sea, and heaven for ever
And
thou virginunspottedbare of thy body
"

The

Creator

of every

creature.

is in thee magnificence
Assembled
With mercy, goodness,and with such pit^^,
of excellence,
That thou, that art the sun
Not only helpestthem that prayen
thee.
But often time of thy benignity.
thine help beseech,
Full freely,
that men
ere
Thou
and
art their livfes leech.'
goest before,

and blissful fair maid, me, banished

help, thou meek
of Cana
this
desert
of
in
that
wretch,
gall; think on the woman
said that whelps ate some
of the crumbs
that fell from
their
lord's table ; and though that I,unworthy son v^fEve,be sinful,
Now

belief
inasmuch
that
as
therefore wit and space
me
place of utter darkness.

yet accept my

faith

And

so

to

is 3ead
work

without

that

I be

works, give
free from

the

thou that art so fair and full of grace.

thou mine
advocate in that high place.
end is sung
There as^ withouten
Hosanne
1
Be

Thou,
And

of

Christfes

thy lightmy

That

troubled

Yet pray

I you

of Anne.

mother, daughter dear

is

soul in

prisonlight.

the contagion,
Of my body, and also by the weight
Of every lust,and false affection ;
O haven of refugeI O salvation
and distress.
Of them that be in sorrow
Now
for
work
I will me
to
'dress.
help,
my

Forgive me,
This ilkfe story
For

both

have

by

that readen
that I do no

that I

write,^
diligence

endite ;
1 the wordfes and

subtlyto

sentence

Of him, that at the saint^s reverence

The story wrote,*and followed their legend ;
And pray you that ye will my work amend.
1

Physician,healer.
* Chaucer
forgotthat
pilgrims.
*

Jacobus

his Tale

Voragine,in

his

Where.
is

supposed

Legenda Aurea,

Address

to be

myself.

told to his fellow-

39^

CANTERBURY
First will I you

TALES

of Saint Cecil)'
in
her story see :
may
It is to say in English,Heaven's
lily,
For purfechasteness of virginity,
Or for she witness had of honesty.
And green of conscience,and of good fame,
her name.
The sweets savour, lilywas

the

Expound, as

name

men

Or

Cecile is to say, the way of blind,*

For she example was
by way of teaching;
I
written
Or else Cecily,
as
find.
Is

joinedby

manner

conjoining,

Of heaven and lya; and here in figuring

The heaven is set for thought of holiness,
And iyafor her lastingbusiness.

also be explained in this manner

Cecily may
wanting*
of blindness,from her great lightof wisdom, and from her clear
"

qualities.
Or elles lo,this maiden's namfe bright
Of heaven and Leos cometh, of which by right
Men
might her well the heaven of people call.
Example of good and wisfe workfes all.
'
For Leos * people in Englishis to say ;
And rightas men
may in the heaven see
and
and
starrfes every way.
The sun
moon,
ghostly*in this maiden free
Right so men
Seen of faith the magnanimity,
And eke the clearness whole of sapience,*

And

sundry workfes,
brightof

excellence.

And rightso as these philos6phers

write,
That heaven is swift and round, and eke burnfng.
Right so was fair Cecilia the white
Full swift and busy ever in good working.
And round and whole in good persevering.
in charityfull bright:
And burning ever
I
have
Now
you declared what she hight.*
"

This maiden, brightCecile,as her Life saith,

of Romans, and of noble kind ;
Was come
And from her cradle fostered in the faith
Of Christ,and bare his Gospel in her mind.
She never
I written find.
as
ceasfed,
Of her pray^re,and God to love and dread,

beseechinghim
1
*

The way
Wisdom.

or

to

keep

her in

the blind.
called.

guide ^or for

*

Was

purity.
*

Lacking.

In

spirit,

SECOND

NUNS

this maiden

should

THE
And when
Ywedded
Which

that

TALE.
unto

397

man

of age,

be, that

was

full young

yclepM

was

Valerian,

of her marriage,
She, full devout and humble in her courage,"
Under her robe of gold,that sat full fair.
And

Had

day

next

was

comen

her fiesh

ycladher

in

hair.*

made
the organs
melody, to God alone,in her heart,
"
O Lord, keep my soul and body unspotted,
thus she sang :
And for His love that
lest that I be brought to confusion."
second
third day, ever
died on the tree, she fasted every
or
busilyprayingin her orisons.
she said to her husband
As the night came,
privately,

Andwhile

and well-beloved

O sweet
There is
that
Which
"

spousfedear.

a
ye will it hear,
1
fain
Aould unto you say,
right
it not betray."
shall
So that ye swear
ye

counsel,and*

Valerian began quickly to

or thing that might be, would
she said to him,
then at once

unto

swear

he

betray

her, that for

her to any

angel which that loveth

That with great love,whereso* I wake
Is readyaye my body for to keep ;
'*

I have

an

no

one

cause

; and

me,
or

sleep,

And if that he may feelen,

out of dread'
That ye me
touch or love in villainy,'
He rightanon
will slayyou with the dead,
thus ye shoulden die ;
And in your youthfe
And if that ye in cleans love me
gie,^
He will you love as me, for your cleann^ss,^
And show to you his joy,and his brightness.*'

Valerian,corrected as God would,

Answer'd
again, If I shall trusten thee.
Let me that angel see, and him behold ;
And
if that it a very angel be,
Then will I do as thou has prayfedme
;
And if thou love another man, forsooth.
Right with this sword then will I slayyou both."
"

Cecile answer'd anon

rightin this wise :
"
the
If that you list,
angel shall ye see,
So that ye trowe" on Christ,and you baptize;
Go forth to Via Appia (quothsne),
That from this town
stands but milfes three,
ne
'

"

Heart.
Lust.

^
^

Hair cloth.
Guide.

"

if.
Secret,
Purity.

*
^

Whether.
Believe.

Out

of doubt.

398

CANTERBURY
to the

And

Say

them

TALES.

poorfefolkts that there dwell,

rightthus,as

tell.

that I shall you

"

Tell them that I,Cecile,you to them sent,

To showen
the old
you the good Urbdn
For secret needfes,
and for good intent ;
And
when that ye Saint Urban
have behold,*
Tell him the word^s which I to you told ;
And when that he hath purged you from sin,
Then

shall ye

see

that

angel ere

ye twinne."

Valerian goes to the place,and just as she had

found the holy Urban
lurking among
anon,
placesof the saints ; and he immediately,without

taught him,

he

his message

burial
delay, did

Urban
The
**

And when that he it told,

for joy his hand^s 'gan uphold.

tearfes from

Almighty

his eyen let he fall :

Lord, O Jesu Christ,"quoth

he.

herd' of us all.
Sower of chaste counseil,
The fruit of thilkfeseed of chastity
take to thee
in Cecile,
That thou has sown
like
bee
withouten
a
guile,
Lo,
busy
Thee serve th aye thine owfen thrall Cecile."

For

the

this spouse, that she

took but now,

she

sendeth

here.
meek as ever
was
any lamb to ewe.
that
word anon
And with
there *gan appear
An old man, clad in whitfe clothfes clear.
That had a book with letters of gold in hand,
And *ganbefore Valerian to stand.
As

dead, fell down from fear, when he saw him ;

he thus began to
he then took him up, and in his book
Christenread, of Lord, of Faith, of God alone in his power, of dom,
and of the Father
of all,
Valerian, as

and

Aboven
all,and over
These wordfes all with
"

When
"

"

all

everywhere :
gold ywrittenwere.

this was
read, then said this olde man,
'Lievest^thou this thing or no ? say yea

or

nay.**

"

I 'lievfeall this thing,"

quoth Valerian,
"
For soother* thing than this I dare well say.
Under the heaven, no wight thinken may."
Then vanish'd th' oldfe man, he n' \sth where.
him christened rightthere.
And Pope Urbdn
*
*

Beheld.

Separate,depart.

Believest,

Truer.

Keeper.

THE

NUN'S

SECOND

TALE.

399

Valerian go'thhome, and "nds Cecily

Within his chamber
with an angelstand ;
This angel had of roses
and of lily
Coronfes two, the which he bare in hand ;
And firstto C^cile,
as I understand,
He gave that one, and after *gan he take
That other to Valerian her make.^
"

With

"

body clean,and with unwemmfed^

thought,
Keepeth aye well these c6rones two," quoth he,

From
Ne
Ne

Paradise
never

more

I have

to you
ne

shall

brought,

them

they rotten*

be,

lose their sweetfe savour, trusteth me,

Ne never
wight shall see them with his eye
But* he be chaste,
and hat^ villainy.*

And

assentest
to good
thou, Valerian, for that thou now
counsel,say what will best please thee,and thou shalt have thy

boon.''
**I have

That

"

brother,"quoth Valerian,tho,*

in this world

I lovfe

no

so

man

I pray you that my brother may have grace

To know
the truth,as I do in this place."

The

With the palm of

liketh thy desire.
And
shall both come
into his blissful rest."
that he
Tiburce
his brother came,
and when

angel said, "God

martyrdom,

ye

with

that word
perceivedthe fragrance
Which
Within
And

that the roses

his heart he
"

said,

Whenn^s
Of

and

rose

For

this time of the year,

I had

them

might in me
smell,that in

changM

Valerian

the liliescast.
'gan to wonder fast.

that sweete
cometh
savour
that
I
smellfe
here ;
lilies,

though

The savour
The sweetfe
Hath

1 wonder

and

me

said ;

Snow-white

"

in mine
no

mine

coronfes

handfes two

deeper go :
heart I find.

all in another

Two

so

kind."

have

we

and

that shinen clear.

rosy-red,
Which
that thine eyfenhave no might to see ;
And as thou smeliest them through my pray^re
So shall thou see them, levfe'brother dear.

slouths
If it so be thou wilt withouten
Believe aright,
and know the very truth."
1

Mate.

'

Or, in

Lust.

other words.
6

Unspotted.

They
Then.

shall

never
'

fade.

Unless.

Loved.

Sloth.

TALES,

CANTERBURY

400

"

Saist thou this to me

in
I this ? "
dreams hearkdn
soothness,or
"In dreamfes,"quoth Valerian," have we
be^

Tiburce

answ^rfed ;

In

this

Unto
But
"*

brother mine, ywis

timfe,

at rest in truth our

dwellingis."
wott'st thou this ? " quoth Tiburce ; " in what wise ?
Valerian ; " That shall I thee devise.

now

How

Quoth

"

the truth,and thou shalt

taught me
the
idols,and be pure, and nothing
see
that all idols
else." Then Cecilia showed
him, plainand fully,
deaf
and
and
for
but
dumb,
they are
are
vain,
charged him to
The

hath

angel of God
wilt

it,if thou

renounce

leave diem.
thattrow'th*

this,a beast he is,"

if
that I shall not lie."
Tiburce,
Quoth
she heard this,
And she 'gankiss his breast when
full glad he couldfe truth espy.
And was
"
This day I takfe thee for mine ally,
dear.
Saidfe this blissful fairfemaiden
"Whoso

not
"

this

And

after

that,she

said

as

hear

ye may

as the love of Christ,"

quoth she,
Made
me
thy brother's wife,rightin that wise.
for mine allyhere take I thee,
Anon
Since that thou wilt thine idol^s despise:

"

Lo, rightso
"

Go

with thy brother now, and thee baptize.

make thee clean,so that thou may behold
face,of which thy brother told."
angel's

And
The

answered,and saide, Brother dear.

whither I shall,
First tell me
and to what man."
he
forth with goodfecheer,
?
To whom
come
quoth
;
lead
thee
the
Urban."
I will
unto
Pope
To Urban
? brother mine. Valerian !
then Tiburce, Wilt thou me
thither lead ?
Quoth
"

Tiburce

"

"

"

"

"

"

thinketh

Me

that it were

wondrous

then, " that has been

dwelleth
always in

not
meanest
Thou
Urban," quoth he
who
to death, and
often condemned
so
and
to
fro,
corners, running

dare not onfes putten forth his head ?

in a fire so red,
should him bumen

And
Men
If he
And

And
we

while

were
we

we

found,or if men
also,to bear him

seek

shall be burnt
'

deed.

Been.

this

might

him

spy.

company.

that
divinity,

is

hid
privily

in this world."
"

Certainly.

Believeth.

in

heaven,

THE
To
"

whom

Men

TALE.

NUNS

SECOND

Cecilyanswered

This

bold^ly,

lose,mine owen
livingonly and

life to
If this were

^
skilfully

well and

dreaden

miehten

401

brother,

dear"

other.

none

But there is better life in other place

shall be lost,
That never
dread thee nought,'
ne
Which
Goddfes son us toldfe through his grace ;
That Father's son, that allfething^swrought.
And all that wrought is with a sKilful thought,
The ghost,*
that from the Father 'gan proceed.
Hath
"

That

hath
"

so

'soiled^them

shall I

"

tell,"
quoth she,

threefold wisdom
in one
being of

persons." Then
and

withouten

she

I go.

Just as a man
judgment

well be three
Christ's
preach
message,
points of His passion :
many
in this world to perform full

divinitythere

very

may

busilyto

began

teach His sorrows,

and
God's
How
Son
detained
was
remission for mankind.
to

That

before

imagination,and

memory,

"

drede."

any

car^s cold ;
Tiburcfe told.
All this
unto
And after this Tibiirce in good intent,
he went.
With Valerian to Pope Urbin
was

ybound
thing she

in sin and

He, Urban,
thankfed
He

God,

christened

and

with

glad heart

him, and made

him

and

light

in that

place

and Godd^s
Perfect in his learning,
knight.
And after this Tiburce got such grace.
in time and space
That every day he saw
The angel of God, and every manner
boon*
That he God ask^d, it was
full
soon.
sped
full hard by order for to sain"
were
wonders
How
Jesus for them wrought.
many
But at the last,
to tellen short and plain,
of Rome
them
The sergeants of the town
sought,
And
them before Almache, the Prefect,
brought,
It

Which
And
And

and
apposed,'

them
to the

said,"Whoso

image

of

will not
here.''

knew

all their

Jupiterthem

intent.

sent.

do

strike off his head !

sacrifice,
Maximus, an officer of the Prefect

This is my sentence
seized these martyrs, and when he led the
and his Cornicular
saints forth,wept himself for pity.
had heard the saints' lore,he obtained leave
Maximus
When
with their
of the tormentor, and led them
And
to his house.
"

"

Wisely.

Assoiled"

saved

Have
thou
their soul.

no
8

dread
Qf

'

of it.

boon.

Say.

Spirit.
'

Questioned.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

4oi

eve, they began to drive away the false

faith of the tonnentors, and of Maximus, and of his people,and
them believe in God only.
to make
it was
with priestswhen
Cecilia came
waxen
night,and
it was

preaching,before

christened

them
And

all

together.

afterward

when

day

was

light,

waxen

Cecile them
said,with a full stedfast cheer,
"
Now
Christfes owfen knightfes,
leve^ and dear,
Cast all away the workfes of darkness
And

armeth

Ye

in

you

of

armour

brightness.

have,forsooth,
ydone a great battaflle,
is
course
done, your faith have ye conserv'd,

Your

Go

of life that may

to the crown

fail,

not

which
that ye have served,
The rightful
judgfe,
Shall give it you, as ye have it deserved."
this

And

when

Men

led them

thing was
forth

to

said,as

devise.

do the sacrifice.

But when they weren

to the placeybrought,
To tellen shortlythe conclusion.
They n'ould^ incense,ne sacrifice rightnought,
But on their knees they setten them adown.
With
humble
heart, and sad devotion.
And leften both their headfes in the place:
Their soulfes wenten
to the King of grace.

This

who

Maximus,

this

saw

thing happen,

told

anon

with

piteoustears,
That
With
And

for which

lead tillhe

he their soules

saw

to heaven

and
angels,full of clearness,
with

his word

converted

Almachius

began

him
caused
to
life.
his
leave
to

Cecile him

many

be

of
a

glide
light,
wight ;

beaten

buried him anon

Valerian
By
softfely,
Within
their burying place,
und^r the stone
And
after this Almachius
hastily
Bade
his ministers fetchen openly

with

took,and

Tiburce

and

Cecile,so that she might in his presence

and Jupiterincense.
sacrifice,

Do

But

they,converted
Wepten full sore,

Unto

her

word,

and

"

at

and

her wis^

Christ ! Godd^s
Is very God
; this is all our

"

Loved.

Would

lore,

full credence
and more,
cryden more
difference
son, withouten
gaven

not.

sentence,'
"

Opinion, beUef.

whips'of

That
Thus

NUN'S

SECOND

THE

hath

so

with

one

good

servant

voice

TALE,

him

403

to serve

trowen,^though we

we

sterve."'

Almachius, that heard of this doing, bade them fetch Cecile,

And
that he might see her.
lo 1 this was
at the very first,
his
question
"

"
"

What
I

am

manner

artfe thou

woman

"

quoth

gentlewoman bom," quoth

"

I askfe thee,"quoth he, " though thee

and of thy believe."
Of thy religion

"You
two

it

grieve.

questionfoolishly,"
quoth she,"

that would
in one
demand.
conclude
Ye ask ignorantly."
"
said to that similitude,
cometh
Of whence
rude
so
"
"
''
Of whence
?
?
quoth she, when she was asked,

begin

answers

Almachius
an

he.

she.

answer
"

your

conscience, and of good faith

Of

unfeign'd."

Almachius
said, " Takest thou no heed of my power
him thus : " Your
she answered
might is little to
of wind
man's
is
like
but
mortal
a bladder
every
power
For with

needle's

all the boast

May
"

point,when

it is

?"

And

dread, for
certainly.

blow,*

of it be laid full low."

Wrongfully thou began,^'

quoth he, "

yet in

and

wrong

thou

Knowest
thou not how our free and mighty princes
and made
ordinance that every Christian
commanded
have
sufferingunless he will deny his Christianity
wight shall
;
"
will
whilst he may
if
he
it
?
renounce
freely
go
'
Your
princes err, as do your nobles," quoth then Cecily,
"
and with a wild sentence

perseverest.
have

thus

Ye

make

it is not

guilty,and

us

sooth

;*

For

well our innocence,

ye, that knowen
For as much
do
as
we
aye reverence
To Christ,and for we bear a Christian name.
Ye put on us a crime, and eke a blame.
that know

that
not
deny it." Almachius
do sacrifice or renounce
But

we,

name

so

for

well

"

answered, Choose
Christianity,

virtuous one,
of these
one

may
two

That thou may

now
escapen by that way."
At which the holy blissful fairfe maid
said
'Gan for to laugh,and to the judgfe
"

**

O judge,confused
innocence
to make
*
'

Believe.
When
it
"

in
me

a
"

the bladder

thou that I renounced

wight ? " quoth she. " Lo

wouldest
thy folly,

"

wicked

Perish.
blown.
is fully
or
bl(nv^
2

True.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

404

in
He
he dissimuleth.
stareth,and is mad
here in audience
said
to her,
then
his inadvertency." Almachius
"
far my
how
knowest
not
thou
may
power
Unhappy wretch,
extend ? Hath not our mighty princesgiven" yea, both power
folk live or die ?
to make
and authority" to me

spcakestthou so proudly then to me ?

I ne speak not but stedfastly,"
quoth she,
Not proudfely
side,
; for I say, as for my
of
thilkfevice
We
pride.
haten,deadly,
Why

"

"

"

all
to hear
a
truth,then will I show
made
falsehood
hast
thou
that
a
;
great
by right,
thou sayest thy princeshave
given thee power both for to slay
thou, that canst only bereave of
and for to give life to a wight
nor
permission. But thou mayest
life,and hast no other power
minister
of death ; for if thou speak of
thee
made
have
say they
is bare."
thou liest ; for thy power
more
'*
Almachius
said
then,
Put away
thy boldness,"
if thou
openly,and

And

dread

not

"

"

And

sacrifice to

gods

our

ere

thou

uiat thou
I reckfe not what wrong
me
For I can suffer as a phiIos6pher.

go.

proffer.

I not endure
But thilkfe wrongfesmay
of our
That thou speak'st
godd^s here,"quoth he.
!
Cecile answer'd,** O nice' creature
saidest no word since thou spake to me,
Thou
I
knew
therewith thy nicety
That
ne
,2
And that thou wert in every manner
wise,
A lewfed^ officer,
a vain justice.

There lacketh nothing to thine outer eyen

That thou art blind ; for thing that we see
well espien.
That it is stone, that men
may
That ilkfestone a god thou wilt it call ;
I rede*

thee, let

thine

hand

upon

it

all

fall.

And test it well,and stone thou shalt it find,

Since that thou seest not with thine eyen blind.

It is

shame

that the

people shall

thy folly,for commonly, men

in heaven
high, over all ; and
neither to thee
are
These
worthless.*'
are
waxed
wroth, and bade
see,

nor

to

thee,and laugh at
know
it well,that mighty God is
these images, thou mayest
well
themselves
: in effect they
profit
so

scorn

other such words she said ; aind he

lead her home
to her house, and
men
"
In her house,"quoth he, " burn her in a bath with red flames."
the deed done.
And
was
as he bade, so
They shut her fest in
and
a bath, and
night
day,
kept up,
great fires beneath.
^

Foolish.

and

Absurdity.

"

Ignorant.

Advise.

THE

The

SECOND

NUNS

longfenight,and
all the fire,
and

eke

For
She

all

sate

It made

cold, and

her not

in that bath she must

with a wicked
purpose,
bath.
The
for no
And

felt of it

no

heat.

woe.

droppfefor

sweat.

to

leave

her life ; for

his message
to

sent

40S

day also,

eke the bathfes

one

But

TALE.

he, Almachius,
slay her in the

then smote
her three strokes in the neck ; but
could he smite
of chance
her neck
quite asunder.
there was
should
ordinance
an
at that time that no
man

tormentor

kind
as

do unto

such

man

pain as

to

strike

fourth

soft

This

But half
his way.
the blood

dead,

tormentor

durstfe do

ne

her neck

with

no

or

stroke,
sore,

more.

cut, he left her

lying,and

went

on

about
her have stopped
The Christian folk who
were
in this torment,
she
Three
with sheets.
lived
days
the faith she had
fostered in
ceased
she never
and
to teach
her movables
and her things and'
And
them
she gave
them.
recommended
them to the Pope Urban, and said : " I asked
and no more,
three days'respite,
of the King of Heaven
to have
"

to

recommend

you

before

these

I go,

souls, and

that I

might

house a perpetual church."

fetched the body, and
Saint Urban, with his deacons, privily
saints
buried it by night among
his other
decently. Her house
called the church of Saint Cecilia.
was
found

here

of my

hallowed
Saint Urban
it,as he well might.
this day, in noble wise.
In which
unto
Men
do to Christ and to his saints service.

the
tMONG
character

death

and
solicitude

much

:"

to

appear

frequent tendency
so

contradictions

apparent
none

to

NUN'S

SECOND

THE

ON

REMARKS

be

to

court

that

are

TALE.
of

the

human

be nvore
strikingthan its
grace,
disthe ver"' sufferings,
with
generally shunned

to-day the

slave

of

the

grossest

the martyr asserting successfully

superstitions
; to-morrow,
not
only its independence of all princes and potentates,
that betokens
the fierycrown
hand
but putting on with its own
Yet
self.
the sovereignty over
surely the
a mightier conquest"
from
to be drawn
is as simple as the conclusions

explanation
"

Digitizedby VjOOQ

IC

4o6
it

are

lower

CANTERBURY

TALES.

sublime.
Fitted for all imaginable stages of development,
from the poor idiot up to him who
is indeed but a little
than the angels a Plato or a Shakspere
through
man,
"

"

the

operation of a law that compels progress, yet beneficently

provides for the periods of rest his waywardness or weakness
demands, by lessening the desire with the decrease of the
abilityto proceed is ever in a kind of harmony with the work
he sees
littletoo,
before him.
If that be little,
he will become
and will grow
less through the decay or perversion of his unused
his
and
conscious
or
or misused
scious
unconthrough
powers,
"

contempt

for and

dissatisfaction with his

life.
daily

And

if the process
be long continued, the evil changes its negative
for a positivecharacter,until there be no depths of sensuality,
or degradation,or vice,left unsounded
by the fallingspirit.
In some
such positionas this do we
if we look back
see
man
We
that he has exhausted
see
eighteen and a half centuries ago.
the energies that have
enabled
him under the Roman
banners
of civilization abroad
to
the
sort
some
over
carry
whole known
it
world ; and now
with
growing drunk, as
were,
with spoil,he falls into a kind of
blood, and overburdened

torpor.

All

sense

of

decency, or justice,or

or
faith,appear
spirit,
religious
l
ost.
utterly

dead

within

honour,
him.

or
public
Surely he is

and
be so.
Let but a new
can
Happily, it is not so, never
be
inner
idea
how
his
whole
him
and see
placed before
great
his long sleep, or
^how he
from
starts
being is illumined
from his idle purposeless wanderings, even
from the deepest
abysses of self-abasement, and with a strengthproportionedto
the delay that has taken place, moves
forward, his
resistlessly
"

"

whole
of a hero's
nature
expanding with the consciousness
last
into the true heroic mould
and
if
the cross
work
at
;
the stake bar his way, he accepts that final testimony of
or
his faith as his final triumph
knowing that the very ashes the
with
executioner
of
will scatter
all the marks
the winds
to
in
be
will
seed
endowed
like
judicialinfamy,
every particle
with the power
raise up
of reproduction,and
host of
a
so
in
and
his
again to originatestill
place again to die,
martyrs
"

"

self-sacrificers.
and determined
Suddenly the
have
d
own-trodden
is
found
to
creed
penetratedinto all
despised,
too potent to be any
longer resisted.
quarters, and has become
lished,
of
Christianityfirst estabChrist,was
Thus, after the death
and mankind
raised from
the depths of wretchedness
and infamy in which the Roman
conquestsleft them ; thus was
the subsequent Reformation
worked
of Christianity
out ; the
minds
of the Reformers
of the sixteenth century having been
more

numerous

nourished

by the tales and legends of the sublime

devotion

of

THE

the

early Christians.

this kind.

SECOND

NUN'S

TALE.

407

legend of
interesting
questionto speculateupon
writing it. He has given us in the
Parson an
example for all time of what
*

The

Nun*s

Second

Tale'

is

it is an
And
motives
in

Chaucer's
character of the Poor
Christian pastor should
a

in the
has shown
us
*
Law's
and
of
Tale
Constance,
;
*
Griselde,in the Clerk's Tale,'what Christ's people should be.
On
with a masterly and unthe other hand, he has shown
sparing
us
when
hand
it was
monks
the state of the Church
as
when
and indolent state
could ride about in rich luxuriance
in ale-houses,ballad-singing,
in
friars spent their time
or
with
such
when
scoundrels
or
as
intrigues
unmitigated
women,
characters

be

of

; and

in the

he

Man

"

over
England, imposing
Sumpnour wandered
the
timid,oppressingthe poor and
credulous,bullying
upon
and disgustingall not only with their lives and conversations,
friendless,

the Pardoner

and

the

with the
but with their authorized direct connexion
do
of Christ.
What
could Chaucer
once
more
pure Church
of
be
is
life
to
the
the what
the
of
to make
religious
ought
"

England?
that were,
known
the strength of the powers
he
who
supportedand believed they throve by these abuses
have seen
that there would have to be a great, possiblya
must
tragicstruggleto overthrow them.
and elevate
To endeavour, therefore,
to strengthen the hearts
that
the minds of the people for such
a task
a struggle,was
that
view
with
for him.
it
been
stillremained
have
not
May
He

must

have

"

of the most
Chaucer
took up one
popular legends connected
with the sufferings
of the early English martyrs, and gave
to
it new
and influence by his skill ?
vitality
The
miraculous
portionof the Legend of St. Cecilia remains
he found it,that is to say, after the approved
in Chaucer
as
earliest martyrdoms
all
of
such compositions. The
pattern
that
of Stephen in the
narrated simply,as, for instance,
were
Bible ; but the highly excited state of the imaginations both
witnessed
listened
suffered and of those who
of those who
or
rise as early as the second
of martyrdoms, gave
to accounts
faith that supernaturalincidents
commonly
deaths
"These
of
the
martyrs,"
primitive
accompanied
"
seldom
failed of being accompanied by
writes Middleton,
related in the old Martyrolofind them
miracles which, as we
generallycopied from each other : concerning sweet
gies,were
resistance
smells issuingfrom their bodies, and their wonderful
of their
the
miraculous
all kinds of torture ; and
cures
to
culty
wounds
and bruises,so as to tire their tormentors
by the diffi-

century

to

the

them.

destroyingthem, which yet, after

miracles,was always effected at the last."'
of

vain

profusionof

CANTERBURY

4o8

poet writes,that Valerian

The

Among
and

that

the

"

the

the saintis burials

place

was

There

Appian Way.
to

TALES.

can

Catacombs, which

found

this

holy

Urban

lurking,

short distance from

the
Rome
on
be no doubt as to the place referred
of the most
stillform one
interesting

The
ranean
subterentrance
to these
spots in the vicinityof Rome.
from
the
and
the visitor preexcavations
is
Via Appia,
sently
finds himself groping through long galleriesthat twist
and
and twine in every direction as if to baffle hostile pursuit,
and
is
the
side
of
each
narrow
a
gloomy
ranged
triple
on
way

tier of graves or cells. As he goes

on, he finds himself
every
chambers
into
he
vaulted
and
and
then
emerging
large
now
;
he
emotion
where
that
stands
the
reflects with no
ordinary
that he has been
earliest Christians worshipped
wandering
of the earliest believers in Christianity.
the remains
among
service took
such burials and such
what circumstances
Under
needs
tell
him.
to
no
one
Fear, flight,
persecutionare
place he
We
add that the
stamped indeliblyon all that he sees.
may
said
these
which
is almost
to extend
distance to
are
galleries
incredible ; the guides talk of twenty miles !
and Analogues,*
In the Chaucer
Society's* Originals
pp. 189Chaucei^s
of
his
Second
Nuns
source
are
Tale,
printed
219,
of it,
three
versions
^Jacobus a Voragine^about 1290 A.D., and
"

the

French

of

English, before

Jehan
1300

englished lines 36-44

1300 A.D., the Early

and
Caxton's, A.D.
1483. Chaucer
A.D.,
and
to this Tale
50-56 of his Preamble
De

Vignay, about

twelve of the first twenty-one

Canto xxxiii.

from

lines of Dante's

Paradiso^

THE

YEOMAN'S

CANON'S

introduction

dramatic

HE

Yeoman

of

canon

has

already
to

121

pages

and

Canon

the

Pilgrims

Prologue,

the

is

There

of

the

among

in

shown

TALE.

125.

religion,

all a town,
Among^s
us,
it
as
was
Nineveh,
Though
as
great were
three.
Rome,
Alisandre,* Troy, or other
His
sleightfes and his infinite falseness
could^
There
writen, as I guess,
no
man
would

that

Though
in all the

world
For

in his

mightfe live

he

is

there

infect

his

not

When

he

That
But^

it

Full

fiend

many

And

will,

And

yet

men

Him

for

to

Not

him

make

be,

he

But, worshipful
deemeth

God

And

Should
To

This
But
That
There
1

Alexandria.

to

religiouse,
I slander
a

all

that

your
be

canon

is

that

correcten
was

for other

more

Christfes

among
no

was

'

traitor

Except.

mine

told
ye

I meant.
you,
well

wot

Judds
'

folly.
intent.

for

apost^les
but

parde

is 'miss*

only

not

house,

company

singular mannas
is nothing
you

Talfe
eke

presence.

your

shrew^

some

audience

slander

But

of

Tal^

forbid
rue

this,

ere

governance

me

canons

that

not

my
order

every

is.

beguil'd

false

list to give
if you
in
here
will
it
tellen
I

Of

right,

anon

he

of his

knowing

Although

falseness.

livfe may
while.
a
full
ride
and
mile
a
go
many
his Acquaintance,
seek, and have

if that

And

Ne

with

d oaten

hath

man

himselven

as

year

wind.
kind.
wight,
any

so

sly

so

shall

communen

will

he

him

in

speak his wordfes

And

for

equal

will

he

term^s

thousand

how

twelve

himselve

Cursed,

wicked.

;
^

Amiss,

his
been

CANTERBURY

410

Then
That

TALES,

all the remenant

have
? By you I say the
Save only this,
if ye will hearken me,
If any Judas in your convent
be,

I advise you,

why should

were
guiltless

him

remove

But

be

betimes,

or

loss may

causen

no

In London
masses

blame

any dread.
I
thingdispleased you pray,
in this casfe heark'neth what I say.

If shame
And

same

there was
for the dead,

one
priest,

sing annual

of those who

That therein dwelled haddfe many

a year ;
Which
so pleasantand so serviceable
was
Unto the wife,where as he was
at table,*
That she would suffer him nothing to pay
For board ne clothing,
he never
went
so gay ;
And spendingsilver had he rightenow.

for

that, I will proceed at

that brought this priestunto

No matter
the Canon

This false canon

tell my
confusion :

once

Tale

to

of

"

a day
upon
where
he lay,
chamber,
priestfes
*
certain
him
lend
him
to
a
Beseeching
Of gold,and he would quit'it him again.
but dayfes
Lend me
a mark," quoth he,
three,
And at my da)r*I will it quittenthee ;

Unto

came

the

**

"

if it so be that thou find me

false,another day hang me
up by the neck."
The
priestfetched him a mark, and that gladly, and the
thanked
him many
canon
times,and took his leave,and went
And
his way.
at the third day he brought his money,
on
And

And to the priesthe took his gold again.

Whereof
this priestwas
wondrous
glad and
"

"

Certes,"quoth he, nothingannoyeth

fain.

me

To lend a man
a noble,or two, or three,
Or what thing were
in my possession,
When
he so true is of condition,
That in no wise he breaken will his day :
I can
To such a man
nev^r
say nay."
** What
** Should
? " quoth this canon.
I be untrue
that
o
f
the
were
new.
Nay,
thing yfallen
1
*

he boarded.
Where
The day appointed.

Certain

sum.

"

Pay,

CANON'S

THE

YEOMAN'S

TALE,

411

Truth is a thing that I will ever

keep
Unto the day in which that I shall creep
Into my grave, and ellfesGod forbid !

Believe this

certainlyas

as

creed.

your

God thank I,and in good timfe be it said,

That there was
evil repaid
never
man
For gold ne silver that he to me
lent ;
falsehood in mine heart I meant.
Ne never
"

And, sir,"quoth he,

Since ye so goodly have
and

showed

repay

such

to me

been

of my
unto

privity.
me,

great gentleness,I will,somewhat

kindness, show

your

now

you,

if you

please to learn

to

"

"

I will you teachen plainlythe manndre

How
I can wprken in philosophy.
Taketh
good heed, ye shall well see at eye *
That I will do a mastery ere I go."
"
"*
Yea ?" quoth the priest,
and will ye
yea, sir,
I
thereof
Marry
pray you heartily."
"

At

your

Quoth

so

command^ment, sir,truely,"
"

the canon,

and

ellfesGod

forbid,"

his service !
this thief could manage
service stinketh,
Full true it is that such proffered
witness
as
I
will
it
old wise men
and
these
in
this
verify soon
j
canon,

Lo, how

of all treachery,that ever

hath delightand
more
in
his
fiend-like
heart)
thoughts reign
(such

gladness

root

"

Christ^s people he may

How
to mischief bring ;
God keep us from his false dissimulingI
wistfe this priestwith whom
that he dealt ?
What
he
Ne of his harm
nothing felt.
coming
O
!
O silly^
innocent,
priest
silly

with covetousness

anon

shalt be shrunk.

thou

gracMess,full
Nothing art thou
O

blind is thy conceit,'

of the deceit,
aware

Which

that this fox yshapen hath to thee ;

His wily wrenches* thou ne may'st not flee.
Wherefore
to go to the conclusion
That r^ferreth to thy confusion,

Unhappy

anon

To
And

unwit

As
1
*

You

shall

man,
tellen thine

I will

eke the falseness

as that my

far forth

see

Stratagems.

with your

me
hie,*
thy folly,
of that other wretch.
will stretch.
conning**

and

eyes.
^

Haste.

^Simple.
^

Skill.

'Delusion.

CANTERBURY

412

TALES,

This canon
was
ween,'
my lord,ye woulden
and by the heaven's queen,
Sir host ?
In faith,
It was
another canon, and not he,
fold more
That can a hundred
subtlely.
He hath betrayfed
folkfes many
a time ;
Of his falseness it dulleth me to rhyme.
Ever when that I speak of his falsehdad,
For shame
of him my cheekfes waxen
red,
Algatfes*
they beginnen for to glow ;
For redness have I none, rightwell I know,
In my visdgfe,
for fum^s diverse
Of metals,which ye have heard me
rehearse,
Consumed
have and wasted my redness.
Now
take heed of this canon's cursedness.
.

"*

For

Sir,"quoth he

to

that
quicksilver,

And

let him

And

when

the
we

"let
priest,

it had

anon

gon*

man

your

;*

two
three ;
or
fastfe*shall ye see
A wondrous
this."
ere
thing,which ye saw never
"
"
it shall be done I wis.^
Sir,"quoth the priest,
He bade his servant
fetchen him his things,
And
he all ready was
at his biddings,
And
and came
him forth,
went
anon
again

bringen ounces

he come,

as

"

With

his quicksilver,
shortlyfor to sayn ;
took these ounces
three to the canotln,
he them laidfe fair and well adown,
bade the servant
coaUs' for to bring
That he anon
might go to his working.

And
And
And

coals were
immediately
crucible from his bosom, and
The

fetched,and

the canon
it to the other.

showed

took

out

"

instrument,"quoth he, which that thou seest,

therein
Take in thine hand, and put thyself
here
and
Of this quicksilver
an
begin
ounce,
of Christ to wax
In the name
a
philosopher.
There be full fewfe to which I would proffer
"

This

them thus much

of my science
For ye shall see here by experience
I will mortify^
That this quicksilver
To

she

Right

Ye

wen

make

As

there is

'Quickly.

sightanon, withouten lie.

good silver and as fine.
any in your purse or mine,

in your

And

would

it as

think.
"

Always.

Certainly.

Go.
Charcoal.

Have

at once.

to be to mortify^
to destroy,or
*The idea seems
as, by
effectually
the
make
natural processes to
decay^
quicksilver
; which is but in othei
and thus prepare it for new
words to resolve it into its elements,
com*
silver.
binations
as
"

THE

YEOMAN

CANON'S

TALE,

413

it malleable ;
and unable
ell^s holdeth* me
false,
for
folk
to appear.
ever
Amongfes
I have a powder here that cost me
dear,
all good, for it is cause
of all
Shall make
My conning,'which that I you shewen shalL

Or ell^swhere,and make

And

Send

your

away

and

man,

be without.

let him

shut the doorfe while we be about

that no man
us
privity,
espy
that
work in this philosophy.
While
we
All,as he bade, fulfilled was in deed.

And
Our

This

servant

same

anon

out

went

"

And, his mastei shut the door anon,

And to their labour speedilythey gone.This priestat this cursed canon's bidding
the fire anon
he set this thing,
blew the fire,
and busied him full fast.
this canon
into the croslet' cast

Upon
And

And
A

powder,

it was
made, whether of chalk or glass, but it
was
worthless,with which to blind the priest; and the canon
bade him hasten to lay the coals above the crucible.
I know

not

how

"

For, in token I thee love,

thine
this
owfen hand^s two
can6n)
(Quoth
all
Shall worken
thing which that here be do."*
"
full glad.
and was
Grand mercy" quoth the priest,
And couched" the coalfes as the canon
bad.
And while he busy was, this fiendly
wretch,
This false canon
(the foulfe fiend him fetch !)
took a beechen
Out of his bosom
In which full subtilly
made
was

coal^
a

hole,

and

of silver filings,
therein was
and the hole was
put an ounce
in.
to keep the filings
stopped with wax
And understand
that this false snare
made
not
was
then, but
before, and other thingshe brought with him, of which I shall
tell you
hereafter.
He
more
thought to beguile him ere he

there,and so he did before

tillhe
had taken him in.
stop
came

Hold,

'

would

Done.

"

It dulleth me,

speak ;

On

awreak

count.

lump

He

they parted.

when
that I of him
his falsehood fain would I me
3

Skill.

of beech-charcoal.

"

Crucible.

not

Laid.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

414

how, but he is here and there,

is so variaunt* he abides no where.

If I wist

He

But taketh heed, now, sirs,

for godd^s love.
of which I spake above,
He took his coal,^
And in his hand he bare it privily,
And while the priestcouched busily
1 told6 you ere this.
The coal^s,
as
'*
This canon
Friend,ye do amiss ;
saidfe,
This is not couchfedas it ou^ht
to be.
'
amenden
But soon
shall
I
it, quoth he.
"
meddle therewith but a while,
Now
let me
For of you have I pity,by Saint Gile ;
Ye be righthot,I see well how ye sweat.
Have here a cloth,and wipe away
the wet."
And whiles that this priestwipfedhis face.
This canon
took his coal,(I shrew' his face !)

And

laid it up above
*

"

the

Now

Sittfewe

out

croslet,

and blew well afterward,

Till that the coal^s 'gannenfast to burn.'

give us drink," quoth

quickly,I guarantee,

And

of the

the midward

on

down,

and

let

us

"

canon

merry

when the canon's beechen

coal was
into the crucible.
of the hole down

all shall be

well

makfe."

fell
burnt,all the filings

And

so it rnust^ needfes by reas6n,

Since it so even
abovfe couched was
;
But thereof wist the priestnothing,alas I
all the coals ylikfe
He deemed
good.
For of the sleight
he nothing understood.

his time,
And when this alchymistresaw
"
stand by me
Rise up, sir priest,"
and
quoth he,
And for I wot
well,ingot have ye none.
Go, walketh forth,and bring us a chalk stone,
it of the samfe shape
For I will make
That is an ingot,if I may have hap.
And bring with you a bowl or else a pan
Full of watdr, and ye shall well see than,*
that our
business shall hap and preve ;*
How
And
yet, for ye shall have no misbelieve.
Nor wrong conceit of me in your absence,
I ne will not be out of your presence.
But go with you, and come
with you again."
"

Of such
Then.

vagrant habits.
*

Succeed

"

Bit of charcoal.

profit.

"

Curse.

YEOMAN

CANON'S

THE

TALE.

415

door",shortlyfor to sa3m,
and
They openfed
shut,and went their way,
And forth with them they carried the key,
And came
again withouten
any delay.
What
should 1 tarryen all the lon^fe
day ?
He took the chalk,and shaped it in the wise
Of an ing6t,as I shall you devise.
The

chamber

sleeve a plate of silver (evilbe his

I say. he took out of his own
but just an
which
end !),
ounce
weight ; and take heed
was
tricks.
his
cursed
He
of
his
shaped
ingot in length and
now
breadth the same, without doubt, as that plate of silver,
So
And

the

it not espied ;
priest

in his sleeve

again he 'gan it hide

that
slily,

And

the fire he took up his matt^re.

And
in the ingot put it with merry
cheer ;
And in the water-vessel he it cast,
and bade the priestas fast,
When
that him list,
" Look
is
what there
and grope
; put in thine hand
I hope."
Thou
shaltfefind there silver,
as
What, devil of hellfe I should it ellfesbe ?
silver is,pardfe.
Shaving of silver,
from

put his hand

He

Of silver fine ; and

Was

this

in,and took up a teine^

glad in every vein
he

when
priest,

saw

that it was

so

"

and his mother's also,

Godd^s
blessing,
And allfehallows,*
have ye, sir canon,"
"
and I their malison ;
Said^ this priest,
But, and ye vouchfesafe to teachen me
This noble craft and this subtllity,

I will be yours

I may."
ever
make
I
Yet
will
Quoth
assay
The second time,that ye may
taken heed,
and in your need
And be expert of this,
in all that

this can6n,

"

Another
day assay in mine absence
This discipline,
and this craftyscience.

Let

us

take another

ounce," quoth he then,

Of quicksilver,
wordfes mo'.
withouten
And do therewith as ye have done ere this
silver is."
With that oth^r,which that now
him busieth in all that he can.
The priest
To do as this can6n, this cursed man,
Commandeth
him, and fast" blew the fire,
For to come
to th' effect of his desire.
And this can6n rightin the meanfe while
All readywas this priesteft* to beguile.
"

"

Plate.

Holies,Saints.

And

TALES.

CANTERBURY

4i6

sake, in his hand

for appearance

bare

sticks (takekeep, and beware

I),
In th' end of which an
ouncfe and no
more
Of silver limaile* put was, as before
Was
in his coal,and stopped with wax
well,

hollow

in order to keep in every bit of the filings.

while the priestwas
And
engaged, the canon
began to address himself to him anon, and his

his stick
powder cast in
^nth

he did before.

as

the devil
turn, I pray

Him
For

he

was

of his skin

out

God,

to

for his

false in word

ever

And
with his stick above
this false contrivance.

the

falsehede,

and

deed.

crucible,that

arranged with

was

till relenten 'gan

He stirreth the coalfes,
The wax
the
as
fire,
against
every man.
need ;
But he a fool be, wot well it must

and

all that

in the stick went

was

fell hastilyin the

out, and

crucible.

Now,

good sirs,what

this priestwas
He

thus
was

In

so

And

the

to

and

Body
Though

well ?

than

When

that

beguiledagain,supposingonly truth.
glad,that

can

his mirth

mann^re

no

better

will ye

he

canon

express
his gladness,

eftsoon
proffered

Yea," quoth the

thou shalt
be, crafty^

goods
poor

not

and

"

canon,

"

soon

find,

me

I warnfe

behind.
thee yet is there more
Is there any copper here within ?" said he.
"
Yea, sir, quoth the priest; " I trow there be !

Else go buy
forth thy way,
the

us

and

and

copper,

and that
some,
thee."
hasten

the

canon

And

took

of that copper
Too simple is my

quickly. Now,
He

and

went

back

with

it in his hand.

weighed
tongufe

out

but

an

ounce.

to pronounce.

As minister of my
wit,the doubleness
Of this can6n, root of all cursedness.
He seemfed friendlyto them that knew
But he was
both in work and
fiendly,
*

good sir,go

came

him

nought,

thought.

Filings.

But
the modem
not
was
Wise, deeply skilled.
meaning already
known
the
enable
to
to enjoy his joke, as
sufficiently
rascallyCanon
well as his ill-gotten
gains ? The whole passage isexecuted in a spirit
of the most

subtle humour.

YEOMANS

CANON'S

THE

TALE.

417

It wearieth
to tell of his falseness ;
me
nath^lfess yet will I it express,
To that intent men
beware
thereby,
may

And

And

for

other

none

put this copper

He

truely.

causfe

into the

crucible,and

the

on

fire set

it

immediately,
powder, and made the priestto blow,
working for to stoopen low
and all was
but a jape*;
As he did erst,*
Right as him list the priesthe made his ape.'
And
afterward
in th' ingot he it cast.
And
in the pannfeput it at the last
Of water, and in he put his owen
hand.
And in his sleeve,
as ye beforen hand
Heardfe me
tell,
cast

And

in his

in

plate ; he slilytook it out (thiscursed wretch I)

priestunwittingof his false craft,and he left it in the pan's

he had
the

And

silver

bottom.
And

And,
The
And
And

rumbled*

to and

took
privily,

up

in the water

wondrous

fro.
als6

teinfe (not knowing this priest)

hiddfe it,and hent him by the breast.
and thus said in his game,
to him spake,

copper

"

Stoopeth aaown
; by God, ye be to blame,
I did you whilere.
me
now
as
Helpeth
Put in your hand, and looketh what is there,"
This
And

up his silver teine anon

;
said the canon, " Let us gone.
that we
these three teinfes which
have wrought.

priesttook

thennfe

With
To some
For

by

goldsmith,and

weet' if they be

aught ;
hood,
good,

faith I n'ouldfe for mine

my

silver fine and

But if they weren
And that as swithfe^ proved shall it be."
Unto

the

goldsmithwith

those teinfesthree.

They went, and put these teinfesin assay

To nre and hammer.
Might no man
say
But that they weren
as them
ought to be.

Nay,

This 'sotted' priest,

who was
gladddrthan
bird gladderagainstthe day,
Was
never
in the season
of May
Ne nightingale,
Was

Ne

"
*

Before.
Fumbled.

none,

never

that list better to

lady lustier in
2

sing,

carolling.

Trick.
Learn.

he ?

8
0

Quickly.

'

Befooled him.
Besotted.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

4i8

of love and womanhede,

to speak
Ne knightm armfes donei a hardy deed,
To standen In grace of his lady dear,
Than had this priestthis sorry craft to lere^;
thus he spake and said ;
And to the canon
"
For love of God, that for us allfedey'd,
deserve it unto you,
And as I may
What
shall this receiptcostfe ? telleth now."

Or, for

'r Lady,**
quoth this canon, " it is dear ;
for
I and a frere,
I warn
save
you well,
it make."
In EngMand there can no man
"

"No
me,

By

said
matter,'*
I pray

what

you,

the

priest. "Now,

I shall pay

sir,for

God's

sake

tell

"

Ywis," quoth he, it is full dear I say.

Sir,at a word, if that you lust it have.
Ye shall pay fortypound, so God me
save
"

"

that ye did ere this to me, ye

it not for the friendship
and were
should pay more
certainly."
the sum
of forty pounds of nobles,
The priestfetched anon
for
this receipt: All his working
to the canon
and took them
but deceit and fraud.
was
"
he said," I wish to have no loss of my craft ; I
Sir priest,"
would it were
kept close. As ye love me keep it secret.
For if men

knewen

all my subtlety,
have so great envy

By God, they woulden

To me, because of my philosophy,

I should be dead ; there were
other
no

way,"

God forbid it ! " said the priest. " Yet had I rather spend
mad
than that ye should
all the goods I have (and I were
else),
fallinto such mischief."
"For
good will,sir,ye have good proof that it is
your
Grand
deserved,"quoth the canon, " and" Farewell.
Mercy ^^
his
and
after
He
time
did
that
the priestsee
went
never
way,
him.
And
when that this priestmade
such
time as he
at
essay,
would
"

"

Of this receipt,
farewell I it would
thus
Lo,
bejap^d and beguil'dwas

not

be,

he.

does
this canon
Thus
introduce himself, to bring folk to
drstruction.
Consider,sirs,how in each estate there is warfare
betwixt men
and gold to such an extent that there is hardlyany
gold. This multiplyingso blinds many
a one,
"

Who

has done.

Learn.

THE
That

in

The

good faith I

greatest of such scarcity,

caus^

in their terms
But
A
To

Lo, such
wit

that
craft,

to

men

so

mistily

cannot

thereby

come

wit that men

have now-a-days :
well
chatteren
as do these jays,
may

They
and

their

set

to their

man

pleasuresand

learn,if he
lightly

may

care

purpose shall they ne'er attain.

and
multiply,

bring his

have

goods

aught,
nought.

to

; it will turn

lucre is in this pleasant game

4^^

trowfe that it be

speaken
Philosophers
In this
For any

TALE,

YEOMAITS

CANOirS

man's

sorrow,
And
And

empty also great and heavy purses

maken

folk for to purchdsen curses

Of them that have thereto their goods ylent.
Oh, fie for shamfe ! they that have been brent,'
Alas ! can they not flee the fir^sheat ?

Ye that

it,I advise

use

to let it alone,

is late :
Lest ye lose all ; for bet' than never
Never to thriven were
too long a date :
find.
Though ye prowl aye, ye shall it never
Ye be as bold as is Baydrd the
That blundereth forth,

and

perilweigheth not
He

is

as

blind,

bold to

againsta

run

stone

As for to go besidfcs^ in the way :

So faren ye that multiply,I say.
If that your eyen cannot
see
aright.
Look that your mindfe lackfe not his sight.
For though ye look never
broad and stare
so
ye shall not

seize

or

win

mite

but
by that traffic,

And
I will also
this matter.

the
no

lest it too fastfebrenne ';

fire,
morfe

with that art, I mean,

full clean

do, your thrift is gone

immediately tell

Lo, thus saith Arnold

As his
Burnt.

all that ye may

plunder.
Withdraw
Meddleth
For if ye

waste

Rosiry maketh

"On

one

side.

you

what

philosopherssay

of the newfe
mention ;

*Burn.
2H

town,*

Arnoldus

de Villa

nova.

in

CANTERB

420

TALES.

UR

j
__^.___^

He
"

saith
There

rightthus,withouten
may

no

it be with his brother's

But

any

lie,

merctiry mortify,

man

knowledging."

that he wJiichfe firstsaid this thing

;
was, Hermes
doubtfelese
that
the
how
dragon
saith,

Lo,

how

father
philosophers'

Of

He
Ne dieth not, but if that he be slain
With his brother :

this is

And
and
the
my
he

to

understood

he

say,

by the Dragon
both

his brother
and the moon.

which

mercury,
from
drawn
"

were
brimstone,
And
therefore,said he, take heed of
saying, " Let no man
busy himself to seek this art, unless
understand
the speech of philothe intentions and
can
sophers.
if he do, he is an
And
ignorant man.

by

sun

"

For
"

this science and

Is of the secret

this conning," (quoth

of secrets pard^."^

he,)

Also there was

a
discipleof Plat6,
That on a tim^ said his master
to.
As his book senior
will bear witness.
in soothfastness,
And this was
his demand
"
of thilkfe privystone.'*
Tell me
the name
And
"
"

Plato answered

Tak6
Which

the stone
is that ?

that
"

unto

him

Titanos

quoth he,

anon

name,"
Magnesia is the same,"

men
"

Saidfe Plato : " Yea, sir,

and is it thus ;
That is ignotum per ignotius?
Which

is magnesia, good sir,I pray ?

It is a water
that is made, I say.
Of elementfes fourfe,"
quoth Plato.

"

"

"

"

Tell

the rootfe,
me
good sir,"quoth he
Of that watdr, if that it be your will."

tho,'

"
Nay, nay," quoth Plato," certain that I n'ill.*
The philosopherssworn
were
every one
That they ne should discover it unto none,
Ne in no book it write in no manndre.
For unto Christ it is so lefe' and dear.
That he will not that it discovered be,

except when

it

knowledge, and

inspire. Lo

to
.

"

"

He

alludes

defend
this is the end.
to

supposed to contain
'^Tyrrwhitt,
'

The unknown
Will not.

pleaseth his Deity

also

those

to

to

inspiremen

whom

it so

with

the

pleaseth him

treatise entitled Secreta Secretarum^which

a
was
the sum
of Aristotle's instructions to Alexander."

(explained)by

the

more

"

unknown.
.

"

Pleasant.

Then.

THM
"

CANON'S

YE

O MANS

TALE.

421

"

Then
thus conclude
I. Since that God
of Heaven
that the philosophers
tell how
that a man
come
may
stone, I advise as for the best" to let it go.

will not
this
unto

For whoso maketh

God his adversdry,
for to worken
any thing contrary
To his will,
shall he thrive,
certes never
As

Though
And

God

send

that he

there

every

REMARKS

true

ON

multiply,term
point ; for ended

man

THE

Chaucer

of his live.
is my

remedy for his trouble.

CANON'S

had

Tale.

YEOMAN'S

TALE.

leading idea of his

the
Canterbury Tales,'that a party of pilgrims
should
London
to
Thomas
journey from
a
Becket's shrine, and tell each a story by the way,

^HEN

plan

settled

as

the

for

objectionwould

him
to
artist.
as
an
naturally occur
all the advantages of the plan, there would
be
With
apt
of formality and
tediousness
to be produced a sense
by the
one

continuance
was

not

of

only

unbroken
an
distinct but

of narrative
whose
end
defined
therefore
exactly
leaving
imagination. In part this objectionwas
got
stream

"

nothing to the
rid of by the remarks

and conversation
of the pilgrimsupon
each
Tale at its conclusion ; and as Harry Bailly,the host,
here
mation,
to filla conspicuousplace,there was
to be anisure
was
and an
and mirth to
unfailingfund of good humour
and
each
the
of
intervals
in
at
fall back
enjoy
question.
upon
But there stilllacked incident to break up the too even
tenor
Chaucer
of the pilgrims'way.
Accordingly,
introduced, in
and
with the happiest eflfect,
the two
the happiest manner
and Yeoman.
of the Canon
characters
had seen
the pilgrimsride
It soon
appears that the Yeoman
of the hostelry,and told his master, the Canon
hurried after the pilgrimsin such fieryhaste,that,
out

it

was

joy^ for

to see

him

; who

had

sweat.

is arrested
stance,
by the circumand presently become
still more
they are interested,
from
his own
so
as
they learn the character of the master
them
slink off from
and
servant
as
they see the former
detail
in
the
of
described
the
fullest
hear
rogueries the
as
they
Alchemists
by one who has been behind the scenes, as shown
Of

the

course

attention
pilgrims'

"

"

in pages

"

120

to

125.

422

CANTMPBUR

TALES.

did the poet-artist

Thus
has this portionof his
work.
How
work been appreciated\
"
"
The introduction,"
Yeoman
says Tyrrwhitt, of the Canon's
of the
tale at a time
when
to tell a
so
original
many
little
be called upon,
characters remain
dinary.
extraorto
a
appears
had
It should
that some
sudden
resentment
seem
of his
determined
Chaucer
to
interruptthe regularcourse
That
work, in order to insert a satire against the Alchemists.
much
cultivated about this time,
their pretended science was
and
fairlybe inferred from
produced its usual evils,may
which
Act
was
an
passedsoon after,5 Hen. IV. c. 4, to make
it felony to multiply gold or
silver,or to use the art of

multiplication."
Mr. Hippesley (in his

Early English Literature ') remarks

"

In the year
in the same
strain :
passed
1405 an Act was
which made
it felon ie to multiplie
the
or to use
gold and silver,
of multiplication.
If we
believe
Chaucer's
life
that
art
may
extended
was
beyond that year, it will not appear improbable
that he should have inserted this digressionfrom his original
with the general feelingof the nation
plan, in accordance
the subject,"
on
instance of the fault we
Is not
this another
have before
of
in
Chaucer's
downwards
from
?
complained
admirers,
Spenser
They take him for granted not study him ; and so, to a
serious extent, really grow
"blind"
his excellences,by
to
"
*
of
idea of his
of light."
excess
dwellingin a kind
vague
the masterly exposure
To
of the tricks of the Alchemists
Chaucer
has given, we shall merely add a few words illustrative
of the various other modes
they resorted to in the endeavour
cheat
their dupes. They soldered gold and silver together,
to
and whitened
the gold side with mercury
that look like
to make
silver too, then dropped the whole into the transmuting liquid,
where the mercury
was
and, lo ! the eager neophyte
dissipated,
found a part of his silver changed into a more
valuable metal.
of two
made
Again, nails were
pieces,one of iron,the other
of gold, coated
look like iron, and
both
soldered
to
so
as
then dipped into the magic pot, and
together; the nails were
with
half
out
too
their baser nature
they
came
changed into
the best virgin gold. A third method
to place at the
was
bottom
of
the crucible
of
gold, so skilfully
preparations
concealed
that the crucible appeared empty when
examined
at the commencement
of the experiment.
"

"

*
But
contend

Dr. Furnivall and others still hold Tyrrwhitt's

view. They
that the introduction of such an
unpoetic subjectand story
into the Tales
is probably due
himself
to Chaucer
ha\ing been
swindled
alchemist.
The
Tale is evidently
by some
late one.
a

THE

MANCIPLE'S

HEN

TALE.

Phoebus

He

the

was

Of
He

slew

And
with

his
he

Playen
And

Certes
That

fair

so

one

perfect

alive.

This

his

story

that

city,
he.

as

that
?

features

was

read.

soun'.

well

man

also

deed

worthy

this

In

of

full

What

lived.

ever

world

gentleness,

is

there

honour,

not

and

worth.

wont

was

us,

had

Now

Which

this

in

And

Phoebus
he

cage

taught

it

was

this

White

counterfeit

He

couldfe, when

Ne

Singen
Now

Which

so

by

in

he

this
a

had

this

that

he

his

should^
world

do

tale.

nightingale

merrily,

*Part.

swan
man

del^

thousand

morfe

crow.

day.
jay.

snow-white

no

in

hand.

of every
tell a

Phiton,

over

house

men

speech

Phoebus
lovfed

in

many

as

is

hundred

wondrous

his

fostered

as

the

is within

couldfe

crow

bachelerie.

victory
bow

speaking,

And

There

sign of
bear

to

of

chivalry,

in

as

in

and

flower

was

freedom

in

amusement,
tells

that

Phoebus,
well

As

for

his
He

lay
day ;

Amphioun,

so

seemliest

the

describe

it to

needeth

half

he

as

upon

may

the

voice

wallfed

singing
singen

never

also

was

his

archer.

melody

was

men

best

minstrelsy,

Thebfes,

of

king

with

Could

it

sun

noble

as

every

clearfe

of his

the

on

that

singen,
hearen

To

He

could

the

serpent,

another

adown,

bachelor

eke

the

against

wrought,

bowfe

and

the

Phiton

earth

this

mentioun,

lusty

world,

many

in

here

maken

mostfe

all this

Sleeping
He

dwelt

bookfes

olde

As

and

his

than

well.
house

his

wife

life ;

as

the

TALES.

CANTERBURY

484

night and day did ever diligence

:
pleaseand do her reverence

And
Her

for to

and
would
is
to be deceived,and so
all for nothing.
It availeth

only,if I say the truth,that he

loth
have kept her safe ; for he was
save

not.

in such

one

every

wife should

good

is vain

the labour

But

matters.

to

try

be

not

to

This

keep

does

worthy Phoebus
believing that through

jealous;

was

watch

kept under
evil

an

and

truly

one.

all that

he

to

can

pleasingher, and

so

please her,

account

on

of his

government.
That
But

no

should

man

God

to distrain^

As
Hath

have

it wot, there
a

"

put him
no

may

embrace

man

thing which

her grace.

from

"

that nattire

naturallyset in a creatiire.
in a cage,
any bird,and put him
and thy courage
do all thine intent,
and drink,
foster it tenderlywith meat

Take
And

To
With

all the dainties

And

it all

keep
Although his
Yet

had

this

kindly
of gold be
bird,by twenty

Go

His

is wild

wormfes, and

eaten

To

as

such

bethink,

canst

thou

may

never

cage

Lever'^ in forest that

For

that thou

so

so

thousand

gay,

fold,

and cold,
wretchedness

this bird will do his business

ever

'scapeout of his
libertythe bird

cage

that he may

when

desireth aye.
Let take a cat and foster him with milk
and make
And tender flesh,
his bed of silk ;
And
let him see a mouse
go by the wall,
he
milk
Anon
and flesh and all,
waiveth
is in that house :
And every daintywhich
Such appetitehath he to eat the mouse.

Lo, here hath

discretion.

her dominion
So

Nature
c

That

we

That

soundeth

in

can

; and

appetitebanisheth

nothing have pleasdnce

unto

virtue any

This Phoebus, who thought not of

His wife loved another,
deceived.
worthless in comparison to Phoebus.

while.

for all his jollity,

guile,
was
of little reputation,
a man

More harm
it is ; it happ'neth often so,
Of which
there cometh
bothfe harm and

And

while

Phoebus
*

Seize

was

or

woe.

absent, his wife sends for her lemman.

compel by force.

Rather,

MANCIPLES

THE

TALE.

425

? certes this is knavish speech.

and that I you beseech.
read,
The wisfe Plato saith,
as
ye may
The word must
needs accorden with the deed,

Her

lemman

Forgive it me,

If

shall tellen

men

properlya thing.

The word must

'corde^ with the thing working,
I am
a
boisterous man, rightthus say I ;
is
There
difFerencfe truely
no
Betwixt a wife that is of high degree
(If 01 her body dishonest she be),
oth^r than this
And
any poorfewench
both amiss),
they worken
But that the gentlein estate above,
She shall be cleped^his lady and his love
And, for that other is a poor woman,
She shall be cleped his wench
and his lemm

(If it so

Right
And
The

so

be

betwixt

outUw,

;
in :

title-lesstyrdnt
else a thief errant

;
I say, there is no difference
this sentence),
Alexander
told was
an

or

same

(To
But, for the tyrant is of greater might,
By force of menie for to slaydownright,
burnen
And
house and home, and make
all plain,
he
therefore
is
Lo,
cleped a capitain;
And, for an outlaw hath but small menie,^
And

may

do

not

great

so

harm

as

he,

Ne bring a country to so great mischief,

Men
clepenhim an outlaw or a thief.

When

Phoebus
This
"

"

"

"

"

home,

came

cuckoo ! cuckoo ! cuckoo !

crowfe sung
What
? bird,"quoth Phoebus," what
song
?
thou now

sing'st

thou wont
Ne were
so merrilyto sing.
That to my heart it was
a rejoicing,
"
! what song is this ?
alas
?
To hear thy voice
**
,"quoth he, " I sing^ not amiss.
By God
"

Phoebus (quoth he) for all thy worthiness,

For all thy beauty,and thy gentleness;
For all thy songfes,
and thy minstrelsy;
For all thy waiting,bleared is thine eye,
With one of littlereputation,
Nor worth to thee, as in comparison,
I
The mountnance*
of a gnat, so may

thy wife
Then
1

has

played false

Phoebus

Accord,

began
Called,

thrive,

to thee."

to

turn
"

away.

He

thought his woful

Retinue, following.

The

value.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

426
heart

was

burst in

bent

He

two.

his

bow, and

set an

in it.

arrow

in his ire he hath

his wife yslain:

is no more
to sayn.
he brake his minstrelsy,
of which
Both harpand lute,gittem,and saut^rie ;
And eke he brake his arrows, and his bow :
And after that,thus spake he to the crow
:
"
"
with
of
he,
q
uoth
Traitor,"
tongue
scorpioo
And

This is th'
For sorrow

there
effect,

Thou

hast me
broug^htto my confusion ;
both ! why n' ere I dead ?
I
that
was
Alas,
O deerfe wife,O gem of lustyhead.
That were
to me
so
sad,^and eke so true,
liest thou dead, with facfe pale of hue.
Now
that durst I swear
Full guiltfeless,
ywis.

O, hasty hand, to do so foul a wrong ! O, troubled wit ! O^

reckless ire,that, unadvised, smitest the guiltless.O, Distrust,
where was
full of false suspicion,
thy discretion and thy wit ?
of
beware
let
rashness, and believe nothing
O,
every man
Smite
know
without
too
not
ere
soon,
strong witness.
you
and
before
advised
well
ire
and
be
act
surely
why ;
upon
you
folk hath hasty rashness
and
suspicion. Alas ! a thousand
into
the
mire.
them
Alas ! for sorrow
I
and
undone,
brought
will

slay myself."
"

And to the crow, **

I will thee quit anon

said
O, falsfethief,"
falsfetale.
thy

he ;

:
sung whilom, as any nightingale
shalt thou, falsfethief,
thy song foregone.
And eke thy whitfe feathers,every one
;
Never
in all thy life ne shalt thou speak ;
shall men
Thus
a fals^ thief be wreak.
on
Thou
and thine offspring
shall be blake,
ever
Ne never
sweets
noisfe shall ye make,

Thou
Now

But
In

cry againsttempest and rain.

token,that through thee my wife was
ever

And
And

And
And

and

flung him

slain."

he start,and that anon,

his
whitfe
feathers every one,
pulled
him black,and reft him all his song.
made
eke his speech,
to the crow

of the door

out

to

the devil.

black.
crows
are
Lordlings,by this example, I pray you,
all your lifethat his wife has wronged him.

And

for this

cause

all

He

will you

Dan

Teacheth

But,

haten

Solomon,
as

as

man

said,I

never

mortallycertain,
wisfe clerkfes sain,

to

keep

am

not
*

his tongu6 well ;

textuel.

Steadfast.

tell

man

in

THE

MANCIPLE'S

TALE.

427

But

nath^less thus taught^me

;
my dame
6oddfesname.
think
the
in
on
son,
crow,
My son, keep well thy tongue, and keep thy friend ;
A wicked tongue is worsfe than a fiend :
them bless.
My sonnfe,from a fiend men
may
My son, God of his end^less goodness
"

My

Wallfed a tongue with teeth,and lippfes

eke,
For

shall him advisfe what he speak.

full
often for too muchel
My son,
speech
Hath many
been spilt,*
a man
as clerkfes teach*
man

My

son, thy tongu^ shouldest thou restrain

At allfe time but when
thou dost thy pain

To

speak of

Right as
An
A
A

God

in honour

and

prayere.

sword

forcutteth and forcarveth

two, my dear6 son, rightso
cutteth
tongufe
friendshipall a two.
is
God
abominable.
jangler to

The
That

arm

a-

and
Fleming saith,

learn it,if thee lest,

littlejanglingcauseth muchel rest.
My son, if thou no wicked word hast sayd.
Thee there not dreaden for to be betrayed,*
But he that hath missaid,
I dare well
sa^n.
He may
by no way clepe*his word agam.

Thing that is said is said,and forth it go'th,

so
loth,
Though him repent, or be him never
that he hath said
He is his thrall,
to whom
A tale,
evil paid.
of which he is now
My

son,

beware, and

be

no

author

new

Of tidings,
whether they be false or true ;
thou come, amonges
Where
so
high or low.
and
the crow."
well
think
Keep
thy tongue,
upon

REMARKS

ON

THE

MANCIPLE'S

TALE.

each of the Canterbury

its
of
to
character
narrator
is
in most
tolerably evident
portions of the poet's
this correspondence is not
great work; and where
latent
still there
to be
so
readilyconspicuous, it is sure
still
fact.
The
but
an
unquestionable
deep, perhaps,
"
gentle sort of a personage
Manciple is a very
respectable,''
learned of bodies
of
the
most
a
learned,or belongingto one

fHE

dramatic

Tales

correspondence of
the

"

"

"

"

"

Killed

Ruined.'

Call.

CANTERBURY

42S

TALES.

that help rather to fillhis purse than

littleaddicted to practices
moral
his
and
nature
moral
develop
yet, for that very reason,
sententious in his habits and conversation,the better to hide
the defect ; and, lastly,possessing a kind
of quiet subtle
just such a humour
humour, to be felt rather than described
in
of a man
would
the
mind
who
as one
might fancy
grow
up
lords
and lawyers his instruments,
alike
accustomed
to make
was
while appearing to be entirely
their submissive,faithful creature,
and steward.
We
can
fancy him often chucklingsecretlyover
justsuch a thought as Chaucer has expressed in the description
of the Manciple in the prologue :
"

"

Now
is not that of God, a full fair grace,
That such a lew^d* mannfes wit should pass
of a heap of learned men
The wisdom
?

A more
throughout illustrates the same
qualities.
respectable hero than Phoebus, or a subject more
entirely
called
had
is
than
which
what
the
to
learning,
belonging
story
been told by innumerable
writers,from Ovid downwards, no
while
its consequence,
need
desire,
story-teller
And

the Tale

And

for this

cause

be allfecrowds

black ;

sententious,sermonizing,yet withal shrewd, worldly,

temporisingsort of morality drawn from the Tale,*afford
full opportunity for the display of the
Manciple's humour
and moral philosophy. In a word, the Tale,like himself,consists
of a small but sly and concentrated
which
he
substance,
to magnify into a statelyand most
imposing shadow.
manages
of
such
There is but one
poeticalexcellence
striking
passage
how it got into and safelyout of his head,
as to make
us wonder
and
and

the

and

that he

passage

borrowed

has

story previouslytold.

The

"

Take

is but

from

any bird and

put it in

with alterations,
of the
repetition,

cage,
one

in the

Squire's

Tale,'commencing.
As birdfes do, that

men

it in cages feed.

As all students of Chaucer

know, he often repeats himself;
witness his four times use of his line," For pityrunneth soon
in
*
gentle heart."" Skeats
Legend of Good Women,' pp. 148-503.
The Manciple's
Tale is from Ovid's * Metamorphoses.' French,
Greek
and
English, and
versions, with Persian
Panjabi
*
and
Analogues, are given in the Chaucer
Originals
Society's

Analogues,'pp. 439-480.
^

Ignorant.

This

pointsto

its writing
late in Chaucer's

life.

DOCTOR'S

THE

HERE

was,

knight,

knight

Fair

was

Aboven

As

she

that

Pygmalion

or

they presumed
He

Hath

that
mak"d

To

form

Right

the

And

for

I made
So

colour

This

seemeth

pride

ought
unto

page

with

so

she

ere

; for

bom,

was

to

the
This
430,

be.

Tale,
is

no

with

doubt

principal.

may

nothing

will

fully

this

my

wax.

axe

Lord

her

hath

free

burnished

moralizing
late

one,

dyed

"
"

say.

whom

Nature

this

noble

wherever
her

great

to

damsels*

had

and

red,

rose

painted

limbs,

hath

figiires:

in

maid

paint

can

she

Phoebus

its

wouldfe

Nature

she

as

his

of

cure

and

accord

at

was

age

upon

of

streams

beat,

or

creatures.
they have, or what

colours

And

vain,

counterfeit.

wane

that

me

just

such

in

forge,

or

beat,
say'n

well

other

that

of

years

forge and

he

worship

the

to

I all mine

What

Fourteen

that

I be

and

her

do

counterfeit

me

I dare

Former

worke

my

his

moon^,

Lord

My

see

vicar-general.
painten earthly creattire
lust ; all thing is in my

me

as

Under

life.

diligence

work

to

me

me

and

all his

creatiire.

can

paint,

is the

in

more^

beauty
may

paint
; who

Either

For

white,

and

'grave,

worthiness,

"

shoulden

to

of

excellence,
Lo, I, Nature,
say,

ApeTles,Xeuxis,
If

such

or

he

men

No, though
paintfe : for

'grave,

great

so

lust

me

had

sovereign

would6

I form

can

When

Or

in

her

though

Thus

with

hath

Yformfed

that

Virginius,

and

excellent

in

wight

every
Nature

For

maid

this

Livius,

friend^s, and of great riches,

haddfe
daughter
by his wife,

of

children

No

Titus

clepfed^ was

honours

of

strong

This

*5

telleth

as

that

Fulfill'd
And

TALE.'

lily

creature,

such

colours

tresses

like

heat.
and

like

advice
the

Manciple's.

duennas,
^

Called.

see

TALES.

CANTERBURY

430

And if that excellent

A thousand fold more

her

was

beauty,

virtuous

was

she.

lacked no qualityin her worthy of discreet praise. She

in body ; a virgin flower, who was
chaste in spirit
as
was
in her array and bearing.
measured
a
nd
and
humble,
patient,
she was
In her abstinent,
always discreet.
temperate answers
I
wise
dare
quence
to say that her eloas
as
Pallas,
Though she were
was
plainand womanly : she had no counterfeited terms
with her rank,
wise
to seem
; but in accordance
There

spake,and all her

Sounding in virtue and

She

she

Shamefac'd
in

Constant
To

drive her

was

in

more

and

less

gentleness.
shame"ac'dness,

in maiden's

heart,and
out

wordfes

ever

of idle

in business

sluggardy.

Bacchus had of her mouth

no
mastery ;
do \''enTisincrease,
For wine and youthfe
oil and grease.
in fire will casten
As men
virtue unconstrain*d
And of her owen
She hath full often tim" sickness feign
'd,
For that she wouldfe flee the company
Where
likelywas to treaten of folly,
and at dances,
As is at feastfes,
revels,
That

be

Such
Too

occasions

of dalliances.

children for to be
maken
thingfes
ripeand bold,as men
see,
may
and hath been yore
is full perilous,

soonfe

Which
For all too soonfe may she leamen
she is a wife.
Of boldfenessfe when

lore

in your old age, who have lords' daughters

ye mistresses,
take
not
in governance,
displeasurefrom my words : think that
of lords' daughters for two thingsonly,
ye be set in governance
either because ye have kept your own
honesty,or else because,
having fallen in frailty,
ye have fullyforsaken such evil courses
for
Christ's sake look that ye slacken not
therefore
:
evermore
virtue.
to teach them
has entirely
A stealer of venison,who
left his gluttony,and
his old craft|
And

Can
Now

keep a forest best of

keep them well,for

:
any man
if ye will ye

can.

Look

well that ye assent

for
unto
no
vice,lest ye be damned
Who
doth so is certainly
a traitor ; and
your wicked purposes.
mark what T say, of all treason, the
Is when

Fathers

and

sovereignpestilence
wight betrayethinnocence.

mothers, yours is the charge of children

; beware

DOCTOies

THE

TALE,

43"

by example of your living,or by

If they do ye shall suffer for it.
neglectin chastisement.

that

they perish not

Under

This

maid

soft and
shepherd

wolf hath

The

many

negligent,
sheep and lamb to-rent.'

she needed
kept herself,

no

mistress.

maidens
For in her living,
mighten read.
As in a book, every good word and deed.
virtuous.
That 'longeth
to a maiden
and
She was
so bounteous.
so
prudent
the
fame out sprung on every side
For which
Both of her beauty and her bounty wide :
her each
That through the land they praisfed
That
That
And

your

lov^d

virtue,

save

envy

is of other mannfes
and
glad is of his sorrow
sorry

"

one

alone,
weal.
unheal.^

in the town
towards a temple with
On a day this maiden
went
of young
maids.
her dear mother, as is the custom
in that town
also the governor
who was
Now
there was a justice
And
it so befell that he cast his eyes upon the
of the country.
forth by the spot
maid, and earnestlyobserved her as she came
where he stood.
his hearts

Anon
So

changed,and

his

mood,

he caught with beauty of this maid ;

And to himself full privilyhe said,
"
This maiden
shall be mine for any man."
Anon
the fiend into his heartfe ran.
And taught him suddenly,that he by sleight
This maiden
to his purpose winnen
might.
For certfes by no force,ne by no meed.
Him
thought he was not able for to speed ;
For

was

she

was

strong of friend^s,and

eke she
^

in such

Confirmed
was
sovereignbounty
That well he wist he might her never
win,
her with her body sin.
As for to make

for a clerk
So after great deliberation he sent into the town
be subtle and bold, and told his tale unto
he knew
to
whom
and
made
him engage
him secretly,
to tell it to no
creature
;
and if he did he should lose his head.
And
this "cursed
when
counsel was
agreed to, the judge was
glad and made
great
cheer for him, and gave him dear and preciousgifts.
the whole conspiracy was
When
shaped from pointto point,
be performed with all subtlety as ye
how that his will should
shall after hear, the clerk,
who
called Claudius,goes home.
was
This false judge,who was
named
Appius (forit is no fable,but
*

Torn

to

pieces.

Unhealth,ill-being.

TALES.

CANTERBURY
^3j
an
".

consisW

judge.

false

doubt)-this

his

was

as

The

be

plaasure,do

your

definitive

sentence

Virginius
shall

hear

me

right "l?"n "'"^Pi

5""it

let

him

be

to

the

cursed

sundry
.^

so,

then

and

.^^s^re,

of
y^^^^\^^^^^rkn%
g
the meani
read;

was

.m

caiiea,

the

bill

is not

wrong.

no

knovv

came

immediately

sa

ana

forth

thenjzame

rightand

have

Shalt

Thou

^.^

^^^

wont,

false clerk

cases.

teTudement
"^"gave
judgment upon
g

.y

tni

is

thing, the story

well known

historical and

it ye

"

"

To

Appius

Sir

lord

my

you,

dear,

so

Claudius,

servant

poor6
knight called yirginms,
all equity,
Against the law, against
the will of/"e.
against
Holdeth, express
Sheweth

your

that

How

that

My servant, which
mine
Which
from

^yf'^^Jl'fXx.
";g^\

my

is

house

stolen
p^f
that will I preve

was

full young
;
not
it you
grieve ,
By witness, lord, so that
nought, what so he say.
is his daughter
She
lord the judge, 1 prajr.
to
Wherefore
she

Whiles

was

my

you,

Yield

me

this

Lo,

Virginius began
he

had

many

**

Go
The

clerk
And

Must

Prove.

goeth

And

let

this

And

with

his

him
fac^

humble

doom,

dead
face

judge.

wuivx

our

save.

ward.
I award

* ^

knight, Virginius,
judge, Appius,
given
daughter

and

dearfe

in

; thus

sinfulness

home,

this

dearfe

in

his

her

of

her

house

thrall

his

near

have,

servant

her

put

worthy

assent

judge,
anon

and

laise

was

judgment.

thine

in

said

had

moment"nor

his

clerk

have

force

by

He

forth

the

the

Upon

this

longer

no

when

Unto

but

knight should,

adversary

virait
his
gave

shall

Through

not

her

bring-

as

his

that

na\Kv
clerk.,
,^^l^'^'i^t
also
and
by

the

proved

anon

shalt

sentence

upon

all

that

I deem*

Thou

'

look

judge would
Virginius,

from

the

tale, and

witnesses,

the cursed
more

was

to

his

told

all

will
yo^r
of the bill.

that, if it be

thrall

ray

to

set

daughter
ashen

as

he

in

his

call

hall,

;'

cold

'gan
"

liven

him

behold,

Caused

her

to

be

called.

DOCTOR'S

THE
With
**

he from

his

Daughter," quoth

There

thou

**

That

death

shame,

or

suffer ; alas that

I was
wherefore

must

thou

his heart
convert.^

Virginiaby thy name,

ne,

thou deservedest
For never
To dien with a sword or with
O dearfe daughter,ender of my
I have fostered up with
Which
were

bore

knife.
life
such pleasince,

of remembrance

out

never

that art my last^

lastfejoy also ;

daughter,which

not

purpose

wayfes,either

be two

That

433

pitystrikingthrough

father's

All would

TALE.

woe

And in this life my

in patience
of chastity,
O gem
Take Ihou thy death,for this is my sentence ;
be dead.
For love and not for hate thou must

My piteoushand must smiten off thine head.

Alas, that ever Appius thee say ! *
Thus hath he falsely
judged thee to-day."
then he told her the whole

And

O
And
"

dearfe father 1 "

mercy,

with that word

she

About, his neck, as she

tearfes burst

(The
And

**

quoth

both

wontlto

was

this maid.

her armfes

laid

do ;

of her eyen two)

father,shall I die ?

out

saidfe,Goodfe

Is there

case.

? is there

"

remedy ?
dearfe daughter mine," quoth he.
No certain,
father mine," quoth she,
Then give me
leavfe,
death
for
to
complain a littlespace :
My
Jephtha gave his daughter grace
For, pardfe,
For to complain,ere he her slew, alas !
no

grace

no

**
"

And
But

God

it wot,

that she

ran

her trespass,
was
her father firstto see,

nothing

To

him with great solemnity."

welcome
with that word
she fell aswoon
anon
;
And
when
her swooning was
after,
agone.
She riseth up, and to her father said :
**
Blessed be God, that I shall die a maid.

And

"

Give me
my death,ere that I hav6 shame.
Do with your child your will,
a' Godd^s
name."
And with that word she prayed him full oft,
That with his sword he should^
smite her soft ;
down
she fell.
And with that word aswoonfe
Her father,
with full sorrowful heart and fell*
Her head off smote, and by the top it hent,^
And to the judge began it to present
As he sat yet in doom

And
1

the

when

Though

judge saw

he would
"

In.

not

in

c6nsist6ry.

it,he bade

them

change his purpose.

*
Fell,purpose.

take

Virginiusand
a
^

Saw.
"Held.
Held.
"

434

CANTMRBUR

TALES.

him

instantly.But immediatelya thousand people thrust

in to save
the knight,for pity and gnef, for the iniquitywas
known.
The peoplehad suspicionin this matter, from
soon
done by the
of making his claim,that it was
the clerk*s manner
his vice. They go to Appius,and
of Appius : they knew
assent
into a prisonimmediately. And there he slew himself.
cast him
Claudius was
doomed
to be hung on a tree ; but that Virginius,
of his pity,
prayed for him, so he was exiled.

hang

REMARKS

ON

THE

DOCTOR'S

TALK

[lthough

Chaucer
expressly names
Livy as his
the
for
version
he
authority
adopts of the wellknown
and tragic story of 'Virginius,'
it is curious
how widelyhe has departed from the original
; and
for once, be it said with all due reverence,
not
to the advantage
cither of the Tale or the cause
of historic truth. We
refer
of Icilius,
the lover of
of the character
to his entire omission
and
and
w
hose
high and noble
fidelity manly courage
Virginia,
him in every way worthy of his position
made
this
spirit
among
first
trio of illustrious unfortunates.
Thus
when Virginius
was
seized in the forum, where, in sheds, the schools of learning
that ensued, to
were
held,and was taken, during the clamour
incident that
the tribunal of Appius,the rumour
of the startling
had
occurred
who
with Virginius's
presently roused Icilius,
ancle,Numitorius, hurried to the spot, forced a way through
the crowd, and loudly raised his voice in remonstrance.
He
told
the
had
claimant
should
that
the
sentence
""ras
keep
passed
possessionof Virginiauntil the arrival of Virginius. Of course
the whole policyof Appius was
at once
apparent ; and the halffrenzied lover burst out
passioned
into the followingindignantand im-

appeal:
Appius, you must
"

"

drive

with the sword

before
concealed.
wish
be
to
you
you
I intend to wed, and expect to find in her a
This young woman
lawful and chaste wife. Call together,then, even
all the lictors
rods
of your colleagues,
order the
and axes
to be got ready ;
the spouse of Icilius shall not remain in any
other place than
from
her father's house.
the prohave
taken
us
Though you
tection
of tribunes, and an appeal to the Roman
people, the
which secured our liberty,
bulwarks
two
yet there has been no
wives
dominion
to your lust of absolute
our
over
grant made
and daughters. Vent
lives
and
our
our
;
your fury on
persons
let chastity,
find safety. If any violence is offered to
at least,
shall

me

accomplish in silence

hence

what

DOCTOR'S

THE

her, I shall appeal for

TALE.

435

the citizens now

present in
behalf of my spouse ; Virginiuswill appeal to the soldiers in
behalf of his only daughter ; and all of us to the gods, and to
all mankind
shall you ever
into effect
; nor
carry that sentence
while we have life to prevent it. I charge you, Appius, consider
succour

to

again and again to what lengths you are proceeding : let

determine
what
he comes,
he will
measures
Virginius,when
in regard to his daughter : only of this I would
have
pursue
him
the

assured, that if he submits

custody of her,he

to

this man's

claim

of

obtaining

seek another match for his daughter.

of the liberty of my
spouse, I will

must

for me, in vindication

than my
forfeit my life sooner
honour."
visible in the growing furyof
The effect of this appeal was
in some
the multitude ; and Appius saw
that he must
degree
he
avoid
the
So
consented
that
to
storm.
by submitting
in the
Virginia should be bailed; and Icilius,as defendant
sureties.
called
for
was
He, however, delayed,
cause,
upon
he had despatched
time to the messenger
thinkingto give more
fetch
and
the
to the camp
to
Virginius ;
multitude, mistaking
his motive, and fearinghe was
at a loss,held up their hands
as
and
cried
if with one
to
be
sureties
out
they were
ready
impulse,
for Icilius ! "To them he replied," says Li vy, "tears
at the
*
I
thankful
his
time
for
am
same
filling eyes,
your goodness ;
As

"

"

I will claim
your
sufficient sureties.'"
that was
That morrow
came

to-morrow

assistance

at

present I have

sad
of the most
to witness
one
afford
of
the
world
the
acts
long history
might
Virginiawas stabbed by her own father ! and as the latter made
his way through all assembled, brandishing the bloody knife of
until he had
gained the outer
sacrifice,
gate, with a devoted
"
he
whence
fled
the
Icilius and
to
of
followers,
body
camp,
raised up the lifeless body, and exposed it to the
Numitorius
view of the people, deploring the villainyof Appius, the fatal
beauty of the maiden, and the necessity which had urged
The
who
followed
matrons
the father to the act.
joined
*
of rearing
their exclamations
these the consequences
Were
these the rewards
of chastity?' with other
children
were
but

heroic

"

"

"

"

reflections such as are

suggested by grief to women,
of their tender minds,
from
the
and which,
greater sensibility
are
always the most
affecting.The discourse of the men, and
turned
entirelyon their being deprived of
particularlyIcilius,
of tribunes, and, consequently,of appeals to the
the protection
thrown
and
the indignities
on
people,
upon them all ."
mournful

And
thus,while Virginius stirred up the hearts of his fellowsoldiers in the camp
by the awful tale he was the firstto bring
them news
of,and to which his ghastly and sudden appearance
21

CASTERBURY

436

TALES,

have added
tenfold force,Icilius raised up in
them must
the very heart of the cityitself an oppositionso formidable,that
Then the
Appius was driven to seek for safetyin concealment.
among

to the city ^the bereaved

lover and
presently marched
army
the decemvirs, including Appius, were,
father again met
by
order of the senate, compelled to resigntheir oppressive and in
and
tribunes or magistrates of
measure
some
usurped power"
and for the people were
to be elected as of old : among
these
"

"

the foremost
And

were

and Numitorius.
Virginius,Icilius,

then, in prison,and
his fate

by

suicide.

hopeless of

escape,

pated
Appius antici-

SELECTIONS
FROM

THE

TALES.

CANTERBURY

OTHER

the objects sought

followingselections,
reader with the means
of enjoying Chaucer's

In the
the

of

comic

much

and

of

are

to

furnish

rich delineation

his

consummate
as
character,
of comic
narrative, incident, and plot, as are
management
with
the
which,
expurgation of all those grossnesses
compatible

however
moment

excusable
to

nineteenth.

in

be tolerated

the

fourteenth

beyond

the

century,

are

not

libraryof the student

for

in the

HERE

who

took

his

craft.

towards

turned

certain

him

"

when

what

there

should
This

should

happen,
clerk

was

dernfei

Of

love

And

therewith

And

like

could^

he

was

whose

in

he

of soUce

sly, and

full

for

that

any

ydight
fetisl^

And

he

miser,
by
carpenter
scholar
poor

to

;
;

privjr

see.

hostelry

company,

sote.'

herbfes

with
sweet

was

liquorice, or

rich

whole

Nicholas

and

meek"

Full

His

dwelled

there

arts,

maiden

Alone, withouten

Of

was

fancy was
He
could
cover
dislearning astrology.
conclusions, if interrogated in certain
be drought
asked
rain, or if men
or
of everything.

he

himself

Oxford

He

but

clepfed handy

had

chamber

him

With
the

board.

to

guests
in

in

dwelling

once

was

learned

hours

TALE.

MILLER'S

THE

is the

as

root

setfewale.*

any

bookfes

alma-gest,' and

great

and

small,

astrolabe, 'longing to his art.

His
auerim"
stonfes, la)dng fair apart
couched
On
shelves
at his bedd^s
head.
His
with
ycovered
a
falding'red.
press
And
sautrfe^
all above
there lay a gay
On
which
he made
nightfes melody
a
So sweetfely that all the chamber
:
rang
And
Angelus ad virgrtem he sang.
after that he sang
the king"s note
And
His

Full

often

And

thus

After
^

Valerian,

The

Alexandrian

8
'

sweetfe

friend^s

his
clerk

finding,

his
and

throat.

merry

timfe spent
his rent.'

Knew.

'

this

was

Secret.

^Handsomely

his

biessfed

name

dressed

and

given by

ornamented

the

Arabs

with

to

the

sweet

herbs.

celebrated

work

Ptolemy.
The
anciently used in numeration.
pebbles or counters
which
of
A coarse
the Shipman's
made,
cloth,
was
gown
Or
psaltery, a musical
stringed instrument,
His
friends' giftsand
his own
income.
astronomer,

of

the

The

TALE,

MILLER'S

439

This carpenter had wedded

a wife,
new
Which
that he lovfed morfe than his life.
Of eighteenyear she was, I
guess of age.
in cage.
Jealous he was, and held her narrow
For she was
wild and young,
and he was
old.

He knew not
should wed one
with their state

bade that a man

wed
in accordance
should
to himself.
often at issue.
; for youth and age are
Fair was
and
this young
her
wife,
body as pretty and small
weasel's.
She
with silken
as
a
wore
girdle,all barred
any
and
her
white
milk
new
as
stripes, an apron as
loins,with
upon
smock
in it. Her
a
white, and embroidered
was
many
gore
in front,and also on her collar behind, with coal-black
silk
inside and out.
The
of the same
tapes of her white cap were
suit to her collar. Her filletof silk was
and
set high on
broad,
her head.
And
certainlyshe had a roguish eye.
Cato

(forhis wit

like

Men

Full small

ypullM were
they were
bent,and

And

rude),who

was

her browns
black

as

two,
sloe.

any

her than on the new

on
pear
the wool of a wether.
By her girdlehung a leathern purse, tasselled with silk and
In all this world
inlaid with brass.
seek up and down
to
could find anywhere else so gay a poppet, or
there is no
man
wench.
the shining of her hue than
sweet
a
so
Brighter was
it
As
of the newly forged noble^ in the tower.
to her song,
brisk as any swallow's sitting
as loud and
a barn.
was
on
It

was

greater delight to look

; she

tree

softer than

was

"

"

Thereto
As

mouth
laid in hay
Her

any

was
or

she couldfe
kid

brooch
shield.

she

was

she
a

she bare
Her
a

as

braket^

or

game

mead,

or

hoard

of

apples

heath.

Wincing
Long as
A

or

sweet

as

skip,and make a
his dame.
foll'wing

calf

shoes

is

jollycolt,
upright as a bolt.

as

was

mast, and
her

upon
were

low

laced

primrose, a

on

broad
as
collar,
her

as

the boss

of

yeoman

to

leggeshigh,

darling,^for

good

any

marry,

[Nicholasfalls in love
also another admirer."]
^

The

gold coin.
sweet
peculiarly

said to be stillknown

with

drink made
in Wales.

her, but

the

of

has

ale,honey, and spice,

primerole,a
piggesnie."

of the wort
^

wife
carpenter's

'*

CANTERBURY

440

TALES,

It happened that upon a holyday the good wife went

to the
church : her forehead shiningas bright as any morning, so was
it washed
of that
when
she left her labour.
there was
Now
church
his hair,
Curled was
Absolon.
a parish clerk named
and shining like gold, and floatingabroad
like a large fan.
Full straight
and even
lay his jollylocks. His complexion was
Paul's
his
had
his shoes
and
as
as
red,
eyes
grey
geese,
windows*
In red hose he went
full smartly.
carved on them.
clad little and properly, in a kirtle of light waget,'
this he had a gay
set with points. And
thicklyand fairly
upon
white as is the blossom
the hawthorn.
as
on
surplice,
He

was

A merry child he was, so God me

save
;
Well could he letten blood,and clip,
and shave,
And
make
a quittance.
a charter of land,and
In twenty manners
could he tripand dance,
(Afterthe school of Oxenfordfe though).
And
with his leggfes
to and fro ;
casten
And playen songfeson a small riblble* ;
Thereto he sung sometimes
a loud
quinlble.
And
is well could he play on a gitt^m.

In all the
a

gay

brewhouse
there was neither tavern
nor
his
visited
that
he
with
not
tapster,
sport
town

This
Go'th

Absolon, that jollywas

with

censer

on

and

kept by

gay,

the holv

day,
parisnfast ;

Censing the wives of the

And many
them
a lovelylook he on
cast.
this
And namely* on
carpenteres wife :
To look on her him thought a merry life.
She was
so proper,
sweet,
and

pleasing,
I dare well say, if she had been a mouse,
her hent* anon.
he a cat, he would
This parishclerk,this jollyAbsolon,
Hath in his hearts such a love-longing,
That of no wife took he no ofiFering
;

And

For courtesy, he

wouldfe

said,he

none.
I

this jollyAbsolon
that
him
is woe-begone.
So wooeth her
He waketh all the night and all the day ;
To comb his lock^s broad,and make him gay.

day

From

wooeth

He

her
And

Ornaments

Supposed

'

musical

by
swore

to

day

messengers

he wouldfe be her

owen

page.

imitative of the windows

of St. Paul's.
in Somersetshire,
*
Seize.
Especially.

to be cloth manufactured

instrument.

at Watchet

THM,
He

MILLER'S

singeth,quavering,as

mead, spiced ale,and cakes*

Sometimes
on

to show

high

scaffold.

his

TALE,

441

nightingale. He
out

her

sent

pins,

of the fire.

he played Herod
lightnessand skill,

But

what

availed

it?

She

loveth

Nicholas.

[The
to

lovers meet, and arrange their plans for the future,so as

include the disposal of the unfortunate
dupe, the husband,

without

excitinghis suspicion.]
Nicholas carries secretlyinto his chamber
and
drink
meat
for a day or two, and
bade Alison say to her husband, if he
asked after Nicholas, that she knew
where he was, that she
not
had not seen
him all the day, that she believed some
malady
cries to him
of her maiden's
was
him, for that to none
upon
would he answer, no matter
what might happen.
Thus
That

passethforth

all thilk^ Saturday,

Nicholas still in his chamber
lay,
And ate, and drank, and didfe what him lest*
Till Sunday, that the sun
was
gone to rest.
This silly*
hath
great marvdile
carpenter
Of Nicholas,or what thing might him ail.
And
said,** I am adread,by Saint Thomds,
standeth
It
not
arightwith Nicholas :
God shields* that he died suddenly.
This world is now
full tikel sikerly*

to-daya corpse yborne to church.

now
on
Monday last I saw him worche.^
Go up (quoth he unto his knave) anon
;
Clepe'at his door,or knocks with a stone :
Look how it is,and tell me
bold^ly."
This knavfe go'thhim up full sturdily,
I

saw

That

while that he stood

And at the chamber-door
:^
wood
knocked
that
he were
He cried and
as
"
Master
Nicholay ?
What, how ! what do

ye.

How
But

'*
day ?
may
ye sleepenall this longfe
all for nought, he heardfe not a word.

hole he found rightlow upon

a
board,
in
That as the cat was
for
wont
to creep.
And at that hole he looked in full deep
And at the last he had of him a sight.
This Nicholas sat ever
gaping upright.
As he had looked* on the newfe moon.
A

Adown

he

go'thand

told his master

this ilkfc man.

In what array he saw

This carpenter,to blessen^" him

soon,

began,

* Forbid.
'
"
Wafers.
Simple.
List,pleased.
^
"
Work.
Call.
uncertain surely.
Tikel sikerly"
* Gazed.
Nicholas was
moon-struck.
In brief,
the line means
""
To bless himself.

"

\f ad.

4il

TALES.

CANTERBURY
And
A

"

said ;
wot

man

This

Now

help us
him

little what

Saintfe Frideswide
shall betide,

is fallen with his

man

astrondmy

woodn^ss*
or in some
agbny.
I thought aye well how that it should^ be.
of Goddfes privity.
Men
should not know
Yea blessed be alway a lewfed* man
can.
That nought but onlyhis Believfe'
So fared another clerk with astronomy

In

some

walked in the fieldfesfor to pry

what there should
Upon the starrfes,
in a marlfepit
Till he was
yfall:
But
that.
He saw
not
yet by Saint
Me
rueth sore for handy Nicholas :
He shall be rated of his studying,

He

befall,
Thomds,

If that I may, by Jesu, Heaven-king.

that I may
Get me
underspore!*
a staff,
While that thou,Robin, heavest off the door:

studying,as I guess."
door he 'gan him 'dress.
to the chamber
knav^
was
a
strong carl for the nones,*
by the hasp he hove it off at ones ;

shAll out

He
And
His

And

of his

in the floor the doorfe fell anon.

This Nicholas sat stillas any stone,
he gaped upward to the air.
And ever
ween'd he were
in despair,
This carpenter
hent^ him by the shoulders mightily,
And
And

shook

And

him

hard,and

cried

piteously;

what how, man

:
? look adown
Christ^s
on
passion.
and from wightfes."^
thee from elvfes,

What, Nicholas?
Awake, and think
"

I crouched
said he, anon
the nightspell
Therewith
right^s,
On four^ halvfes^ of the house about.
of the door without,
And on the threshold
"
Lord
Jesu Christ,and Saintfe Benedight,
Blessfe this house
from every wicked
wight,**
From
the nightmare,the witch's paternoster ;
Where
won'st^^^ thou now
Saint Peter's soster."iJ
And at the lastfe,
handy Nicholas
'Gan for to sikfeia sore, and said,** Alas !
Shall all the world be lost eftsoones*^ now
?i"
This carpenter answ^r'd ; " What
sayest thou ?
What
? think on God, as we
that swinke."'*
men
do,
"
Th's Nicholas answ^r^d
Fetch
drink ;
me
;
"

And
Of

after will I
certain

Madness.

.^ught.
Owellest.

thingthat

toucheth

Ignorant.

Kaise, by puttipg
7

speak in privity

Mark
"

spar

or

thee with

Sister.

His

pole
the
'a

thee

and

or
Belief,

under

it.
8

cross.

sigh.

J3

me

Catechism.
*

occasion,

Nonce

Witches.

Presently.

"

Two
"

parts
Labour.

MILLER^S

fHE

TALM.

443

I will tell it no other man, certain."

This carpenter go'thforth,
and comes
again.
And brought of mighty ale a largfe
quart;
And when that each of them had drunk
his part^
This Nicholas his doorfe 'gan to shet^
And down this carpenter by him he set.
And saidfe ; " John, mine hostfe lefe^ and dear
Thou
shalt upon
me
thy truths swear
here,
That to no wight thou shalt my counsel 'wray^
:
For it is Christ^s counsel that I say.
And if thou tell it man, thou are forlore* :
For this vengedncfethou shalt have therefore,
That if thou 'wray6 me, thou shalt be wood."^

**Nay,Christ
Quoth

then

Though
what

Say
To

forbid

this

it,for

sillyman

"

his

holy blood !
I am
no
labbe,'"
lefe to gabbe/

"

I it say, I n'am not

thou wilt,I shall it

tell

never

wife,by him that harried^ hell."

Now, John, (quoth Nicholas) I will not lie,
I have yfound in mine astrology.
As I have looked in the moon^ bright.
That now
on
Monday next, at quarter night,
Shall fall a rain,and that so wild and wood
child

nor

"

That

half

This

world

great

so

(he

never

was

Noah's

said)in morfe than

flood.
an

hour

Shall be ydrench'd,*
is the shower :
so hideous
Thus shall mankinds
drench,and lose their life."
This carpenter answ^r'd ; " Alas my wife !
And shall she drench } alas,mine Alisoun ! "
of this he fell almost
For sorrow
adown,
And
"

said

Why

"

yes,

Is there

remedy in this case ?

for God," quoth handy Nicholas
worken after lore and rede ;^^

"

no

"If thou wilt

Thou
may'st not

after thine own

worken
head.
full true ;
For thus saith Solomon, that was
Workfe by counsel,and thou shalt not rue.
And
wilt by good counsalll
if thou worken
and sail.
I undertake,withouten mast
That I shall saven
her, and thee,and me.
Hast thou not heard how savfed was
Nofe
that our
When
Lord had warned
him beforn.
That all the world with water
should
be lorne ?"^^
"
"

The
That

1
^

"

Shut.
Blabber.

(quoth this carpenter)full yore ago."

thou not heard (quoth Nicholas)also.
of Noah
with his fellowship,
sorrow
he had ere he gat his wife to ship?

Yes
Hast

Loved.

""
" Mad.
Betray.
Utterlylost.
Or, in other words, fond of chattering.
.

'

Harassed,subdued,

"

Drown

'd.

^"

Counsel.

"

Lost.

CANTERBURY

4^

TALES,

had well lever,*

I dare undertake,
thilke time,than all his weathers black
That she had had a ship herself alone.
And
therefore wott'st thou what is best to done
This axeth haste;and of a hasty thing
Men
not preach or maken
tarrying.
may
Him

At

Anon
A

go get

fast into this inn

us

kneadingtrough,or

For each of us
In which that

else

; but look
we

row

may

kemelin^

that
as

they be large,
a
barge :

in

have therein victualUfe suffisant

But for a day ; fie on the remenant.
The water shall aslake' and go away

And

Abouten

prime upon

the nextfe

day.

But Robin may not weet of this,

thy knave,
Ne eke thy maidfe Gill I may not save :
Askfe not why : for though thou askfe me,
I will not

tellen Goddes
privity.
but
if
thee,
thy wittfes mad,*
To have as great a grace as Noah
had.
shall
I well saven
out of doubt.
Thy wife
Go now
thy way, and speed thee hereabout.
And when thou hast for her,and thee,and me,
Sufficeth

Ygettenus
Then
That

these

shalt thou
of
no
man

kneading tubbfes three.

hang them in the roof full high,

our
purveyance espy.
when thou thus hast done as I have said,
And
hast our victual fair in them ylaid.
And eke an axe to smite the cord atwo
When
that the water comes,
that we may gii
And break a hole on high upon the gable
Unto the garden ward, ovdr the stable.
That we may freely
passen forth our way.

And

When
Then

that the greatfeshower is gone away.

shalt thou swim as merry, 1 undertake,
As doth the whitfe duck after her drake :
Then will I clepe,^
how Alison ! how John 1
Be

merry
; for the flood pass^thanon.
And thou wilt say. Hail,Master Nicholay,
Good morn, I see thee well,for it is day !
And
then shall we be lordfesall our life
Of all the world,as Noah
and his wife.
But of one
I
thee full right
thing wam6
Be well advised on that ilk^ night
That we be entered into shipp^sboard
That none
of us ne speaks not a word,
Ne clepe,*
ne
cry, but be in his pray^re :
For it is Goddes
hest^ dear.
owen
'
"

Rather.
Unless

thy

wit

^ tub.

Slacken.
(judgment)go mad or senseless.

Call.

This
To

is said ;
night,when

ordinance
morrow

Into

TALE.

MILLER'S

THE

men

kneadingtubbfes

our

God

so

thee
be all

will

we

445

speed
asleep,

creep,

there,abiding Goddfes grace.

Go now
thy way, I have no longerspace
To make
of this no loneer sermon
ing :
the
and
thus
Send
Men
:
wise,
say no thin
say
it
Thou
needeth
thee
teach.
not
art so wise,
and that I thee beseech."
Go, save our lives,
This silly
carpenter go'th forth his way,
sitten

And

Full
And
And
What
But

oft he said Alas

! and.wala

wa

t;:

to his wife he told his privity.

and knew it bet'^ than he.
she was
'ware,*
for to say,
cast^ was
all this quaintfe
nathfeless she fared as she should dey,*
And said ; " Alas ! go forth thy way anon,
be dead each one.
or we
Help us to 'scape,
I am
thy very true wedded wife ;
Go, dearfe spouse, and help to save our life."

Lo, what a great thin^is affection,

A man
die for imagination,
may
So deep^ may impressionbe take.
This silly
carpenter beginnethquake.
Him
thinketh verilythat he may see
No*h*s flood come
wallowing as the sea
To drenchen Alison,his honey dear ;
He
He
And

weepeth,waileth,maketh
sorry cheer ;
with full many
a sorry swough,^
siketh,*
go'thand gettethhim a kneadingtrough.
after that a tub,and kemelin.

And
he sent them
And privily
to his inn ;
And nung them in the roof in privity.
hand
His owen
then made he ladders three,
To climben by the rungfes'and the stalks.
Unto the tubb^s hanging in the balks ;
And
them victualled both" trough and tub
With bread and cheese,with good ale in a jubbc,^
as for a day.
that he had made
all this array,
He sent his knave, and eke his wench
also.
for to go.
Upon his need to London
it drew to night,
And on the Monday, when
He shut his door,withouten
candle light,
And dressed all^ thing as it should be ;
And shortly,
allfethree,
up they clomben
sitten
w
ell
stillfe
a furlong
They
way,

Sufficingrightenow
But

i Aware.
6

Sigheth.^

The

ere

2
6

Better.
Sound.

ancient term

for

"
'

*
Die.
Strange contrivance.
The steps of the ladder,rungs.

vessel used

for

holdingale

or

wine.

44*

CAi^TMRBURY

TALES.

Now,

PatiT Noster^ clum,^quoth Nicholay,

And
clum, quoth John, and clum, quoth Alison
This carpenter said his devotion
And
stillhe sit,and biddeth his pray^re.
Awaiting^on the rain,if he it hear.

[The carpenter from very weariness fallsasleep; his wife and

Nicholas
the
go off together. To
them, after a time, comes
wife's other lover,
Absolon, to woo her. The lovers in the dark
of
make
him, and he in revenge
sport
gets a hot coulter,and
smites Nicholas
with it.] As he were
from woe, Nicholas
mad
began

to

cry,
"

Help

I water

! water

help for

Goddfes

heart ! "

This carpenter out of his slumber start,

"
And heard one cry " wat^r
1 as he were
wood,*
He thought,* Alas,now
cometh
Noah's flood 1 *
He sit him up withouten
wordfes mo*.
And with his axe he smote
the cord atwo,
And down
he goeth.
Up starten Alison and Nicholay,
And crieden " out and harow 1 " in the street.

neighbours,both small and great, run in to gaze upon the

deceived carpenter, who yet lay in a swoon,
pale and wan, for

The

he had

broken

his

arm

with the fall.

his owen
But stand he must
harm ;
unto
For when he spake,he was
bore down
anon
With handy Nicholas and Alisoun.
that he was
wood ;*
They tolden every man
He was
of
Noah's
flood
aghast^so
that of his vanity
Through fantasie,
He had ybought him kneading tubbfes three,
And had them hangfedin the roof above ;
And that he prayfedthem for Goddfes love
To sitten in the xooipar campagnie.
The folk gan laughen at his fantasy.
Into the roof they kyken^ and they gape.
into a jape.
And turned all his harm
For what so e'er this carpenter answ^r'd
his reason
for nought, no man
It was
heard.
he
With oath^s great
so sworn
was
adown,
wood in all the town.
holden
That he was
For every clerk anon
rightheld with other ;
the
man
was
wood, my levfe*brother
They said,
And every wight gan laughen at his strife.

This word, it is supposed,is intended to express the murmuring

noise made
by a congregationin accompanying the prayers of
which they cannot
the Church
or do not
service,
perfectly
repeat.
* Dear.
2
8
Stare.
Mad.
^

Clum.

REVELS

THE

the

Prologue

When
Of

TALE.

had

folk

Div^rsfe
But

this

at

nicfe

case

Nicholas,
div^rsfely ihey said,
morh
they laughed
part

folk

the

for

read

we

laughfed

and

Absoion

this

of

handy

and

played.
Ne

this

at

it

But

Reve.

the

of carpentferes

was

craft,
laft^;

hearts

his

and

grudge

to

gan

grieve,

him

man

Os^wold

little ire is in

He

So

he

no

saw

only

were

Because

tale

blamed

it

lite.*

I prosper,

may

Quoth
With

he,

full

"

blearing

If that
I

But

lust

me

old

am

time

Grass

vfhith

This
Mine

proud

speak

me

list

done,

is al

eye,

for

play

fodder

is

as

age

fordge.

now

oldfe

mine

mouldy

quit

ribaldry.

not

my

so

I thee

milldres
of

writeth

top

heart

could

to
;

is

well

of

years

hairs.

mine

But,
We

oldfe

Till

we

We

When

we

Four

Our

rotten,

old

is truth.

we,

are

It is many
For

drew

'Left.

the

will

I shall

as

four

unwieldy,

now

sikerly,'

Death

then

faren
not

that

These

covetousness.

limbs

so
we

we

be

ripe

world

will

pipe.
In

speak.

we

the

cold

fire.
have

fiery sparks
and

do,

longer
the

can

while

alwdy,

no

may

still reeks

ashes

anger

hop

dread,

men,
be

since

year
when

the

tap

"

was

of

but

sparks
the

my

tap

born,

anon

life, and

Little.

explain

shall
life

let it gone

'

boasting,

belong

will
of

"

unto
not

began

Certainly.

lying,
age.

fail,that
to

run.

448

CANTERBURY

TALES.

now
so long^ hath the tap ynin
Till that almost all empty is tne tun.
The stream
of life now
droppethon the

And

chimbe';

The

sillytongufemay well ring and chime,

.Of wretchedness,that pass^ is full yore :
With
oldfe folk,save
dotage,is no more.^

sirs,quoth Osewald
although
you,
annoy

the

Now,
not

Reve,

I pray

and

answer,

you that I may

somewhat
the
set

Miller*s cap.
For lawful is with force,
force oflfto shove.
This drunken
miller hath ytold us here.
that beguile was
How
a carpenter
in scorn, for I am
Perid venture
one
:
And
by your leave,I shall him quitanon.
Right in his churlds termfes will I speak,
I pray to God his neckfe might to-break I
He can well in mine eyfesee a stalk,
he cannot
But in his own
balk.*
a
see

REVELS

THE

TALE.

far from Cambridge, there goeth a brook,

over
a
bridge,on which brook there stands a mill.
A Miller dwelt there this many
This is true that I tell you.
a
he
could
fine
he
and
and
as
a peacock ;
was
day ;
pipe,
proud
wrestle well,and
fish,and cast nets, turn cups (with a lathe),
Ever
shoot.
by his belt he carried a long pavade,' and full
He bore a jolly
trenchant was
the edge of his sword.
dagger in
his pouch. For the perilno man
durst touch him.
A Sheffield
round and his nose
knife was
in his hose.
His face was
flat.
At

Trompington,

and

as
pilled^

As

He
was
durst no
anon

an

ap^

was

market

swaggerer,
wight lay hand upon
he should suffer for it.
a

thief he

And

By

not

that

name

he

that
was

The

Or, in

it was
when
crowded.
There
miller
did not swear
him, that the

of corn
forsooth,
for to
and
usfed
sly,

was
a

called Disdainful

wife he haddfe,
come
The parson of the town

his skull.

and meal,
steal.

Simkin.

of noble

kin :
her father was.'

middle or prominent part of the barrel.

other words, with old folk there is nothingbut dotage.
' Some
of offence,says Tjrrrwhitt. Mr. Home
unknown
weapon
*
"
renders it a Norman
dirk.
Beam.
Bald.
" As
c
ould
the
then
not
priests
girlwas iUegitimate.
marry,

THE

RRVKS

TALE,

449

With

her he gave full many

a
pan of bnis?,
For that Simkin
should in his blood ally.
She was
yfosteredin a nunnery*:
For Simkin would^ no wife, as he said,

But* she
To saven

well

were

ynourish'd,and

maid,

and yeomanry.
And she was
proud,and pert as is a pie.^
A full fair sightwas
it upon
them two :
On holy days before her would he go
With his tippetyboundabout his head ;
And
And

she

his

estate

after

came

in

gite*of red,

haddd hosen of the same.

Simkin
There durst^ no wight clepeher but maddmt.
Was
none
so
hardy, walking by the way,
That with her durstfe rage, or ellfesplay,
But if he would be slain of Simfekin
with knife,or bod^kin
With
;"
or
pavade,*

always they would have their

(forjealousfolk be ever perilous,
she was
somewhat
fond
wives believe that); and also, because
in
and
fullof
water
as
as
a
of lewd jests. She was
proud
ditch,
She thought that ladies should
haughtinessand abuse.
spare
of her kindred, and her education
that she had
her on account
learned

in the nunnery.
A

they betwixt them

daughter hadden

two,

Of twenty year, withouten

any mo',
Saving a child that was of half-yearage.
In cradle lay,and was
a proper
page.
This wenchd
thick,and well ygrowen
With camoys' nose, and eyen grey as

but I will not

The

lie,her hair
parson

was

very

was,

glass;

beautiful.

of the town, for she

was

fair.

her his heir,

to maken
In purpose was
Both of his catt^l^ and of his messuage.
it of her marriage.*
And Strang^made
for
her high
His purpose
to bestow
was
Into some
worthy blood of ancestry.
be dispended'^
For holy church's goods must

On holy church's blood that is descended.

Therefore he would his jollyblood honour.
Though that he should^ holy church devour.
1

The regular girls'

school of the time"
stillis in Roman
Catholic countries.
2

see

the

*
Gown.
Magpie.
**
bare bodkin."
Dagger ; as in Hamlet, the
* That
is to say, kept the subjectdistant as one
*"
nothing to be yet done.
Expended.

"

Unless.

'

Prioress,
p. 72
*

"

as

it

short sword.
^ Chattels.
in which he wished

Flat.

CANTERBURY

450

TALES,

Great soken* had this miller out of doubt

With wheat and malt,of all the land about ;
And namfely*there was
a great colUge
Men
clepe*the Soler Hall at Cantfebrege,*
There was
their wheat and eke their malt yground.

And

in

on

day it happened, suddenly,that the manciplelaysick

illness

an

believed

men

"

that
certainly

he should

die.

For which this miller stole both meal and com

than befom.
thousand
moxh
partfe
For therebefore he stole but courteously,

But

warden

the
for which
miller minded
not

he is a thief

now

not

outrageously;

chid and made

tare
cracked
: he

great stir. But the

aloud

and

it

swore

was

so.

there two young poor scholars that dwelt in the

Then
were
hall of which I speak. Headstrong they were, and lustyin their
mirth and revelry they cry busilyunto
the
sport. For mere
leave but for a littlewhile to go to the mill
warden
to give them
and see their com
ground,and they durst boldlylay their necks
not steal half a peck from
them
at stake that the miller should
nor
by force rob them.
by sleight,
at the last the warden

And

John hight*that
Of

town

one

Far

were

gave

them leave

one, and

Aleyn* hight that other,

they bom, that hight^ Strother,

North, I cannot tellen where.

Aleyn maketh ready all his gear.

in the

This
And

on

horse the sack he cast

anon

go'thAleyn the clerk,and also John,

With
good sword and with buckler by their side.
the way, that them needed no guide.
knew
John
he lay*th.
the
mill the sack adown
And at
Aleyn spake first; All hail,Simond, in fciith,
How
fares thy fairfedaughter and thy wife ?"
Alevn, welcome (quoth Simkin),by my life,
Forth

"

"

: how
now, what do ye here ?
Simond
By God,
(quoth John), need has no peer.
Him
himself that has no swain,
fallfes^
serve
Or else he is a fool, as clerkfes say'n.
Our manciple as I nopfe*will be dead,

And

John also

work
[slowly]

SO

come,

again

and

the

grinders in his mouth, and therefore

Aleyn also, to grind our

you, therefore,speed us

and carry
hence
as
soon

com

; I pray

am

it home
as

you

may.

'Toll.
"

Was

named.

"

Especially,

'Call.

"

Or

'

Allen.

Behoves.

*
8

Cambridge.
Expect.

THE

REVES

TALE.

451

**

It shall be done (quoth Simkin) by

my faith,
will ye do while that it is in hand ? '
By God, rightby the hopper will I stand,

What
"

(Quoth John)
Yet
How

in

that

the corn
goes
I never, by my father kin,
that the hopper waggfes to and fro."
how

sec

saw

Aleyn
Then
And

ancl

how

see

wilt thou

John, and
beneathe,by my

answ^r"d

will I be

"

so

crown,
down

that the raeale falRs

the trough ; that shall be my disport;

For John, in faith,
I may
be of your sort :
I is as illa miller as are ye."
This miller smileth for their nicety,*

Into

And

thought,all

They
But

this is done

that

weenen

man

no

yet
by my thrift,

but

may

for

them

wile.

beguile;

shall I blear their eye,

For all their sleight

and their philosophy.
The mor"
quaint^knackfes^ that they make.
The morfe will I steals when
I take.

Instead of meal, yet will I give them bren,*

greatest clerks be not the wisest men.
As whilom to the wolf thus spake the mare,
The

I not a tare.
Of all their art ne count
Out at the door he go'th full privily.
When
that he saw
his timfe,
subtely
He looketh up and down, tillhe hath found
The clerk^s horse,there as it stood ybound

Behind

mill,under a levesell :*
he go'th him fair and well,
off
And'strippeth the bridle rightanon.
And
when the horse was
loose,he 'gan to gone*
And

the

to the horse

the fen,there wildfe marfes renne,"

To-ward
Forth with '* we hee " through thick and eke through
thenne.'
This miller go'thagain,and no word said,
But doth his note, and with the clerkfes played,
Till that their com
fair and well yground.
was
And

when

the meal

sacked

was

and

ybound.

This John go'th out, and finds his horse awa}-,

And

'gan to

Our

horse

cry,
is lost

"

and

Harow

wala

wa

Aleyn, for Godd^s

bon^s.
oflf,
man, all at onfes.*
Alas ! our
hath his palfreylorn.'"'**
warden
This Aleyn all forgetteth
meal and corn
;
All was
of
his
mind
his
out
husbandry :
'* What
! whilk way
is he gone ?" he 'gan to cry.
The wife came
leapinginward with a renne
She said, Alas 1 your horse go'thto the fen
Step on

thy feet

; come

'f

"

"

Dodge, trick.
Began to go.

"

Artifices.
Run.

"
'

Bran.

Thin.

A kind of

Qnce.

leafyarbour
"

Lost.

TALES.

CAN'JERBURY

452

wild^ mares, as fast as he may go.

his hand that bound him so,
Unthank
come
on
that
And he
better should have knit the rein."
"*
Alas I (quoth John) Aleyn, for Christfes pain
Lay down thy sword, and I shall mine also.
With

I am
as
active,God knows, as is a deer.
By God's heart he
didst
shall not escape us both.
not
thou
Why
put the horse in
the bam
? Ill hail 1 Aleyn, by God ihou is^ a tool."
These

sillyclerkes have full fast yrun

the fen,both Aleyn and eke John ;
the miller saw
that they were
when
gone,
half a bushel of their flour hath take,

Toward
And
He
And

bade
"

He

said;

his wife go knead

it in a cake.
I trow, the clerkfes be afeard ;

Yet can a miller make a clerkfes beard,^

For all his art.
Yea, let them go their way ;
where
they
Lo,
Yea, let the children play ;
go.
'
Thev get him not so lightly,
by my crown.
These
*'
With

sillyclerkes runnen
up and down
Keep ! keep ! stand ! stand ! jossa1 warderere
Go whistle thou, and I shall keep him here.'*
But shortly,
tillthat it was
very night
They could^ not, though they did all their might,
Their capel*catch,he ran away
fast ;
so
Till in a ditch they caught him at the last.
Weary and wet, as beastfes in the rain.
Comes
sillyJohn, and with him comes
Aleyn,
Alas !" quoth John, the day that I was
born !
"

"

driven

is stolen ;
and contempt. Our com
both
the
and
all
us
men
fools,
fellows,and
our
warden,
"
especiallythe miller. Wo is me !
Thus
complaineth John as he goes by the way towards the
found the miller sitting
He
mill,and the horse in his hand.
it
further ; so
the
f
or
and
could
was
fire,
they
night,
by
go no
for the love of God
modation
they besought lodging of him, and accomtheir
for
penny.
Now

we

are

to scorn

will call

The

miller said

If there be any,
Such as it is,yet shall ye have your part ;
Mine house is strait,
but ye have learned art ;
Ye can
by argument's make a place
A

mile

Let see
Or make

"

again,

broad,of twenty foot of space.

if this plac' may
now
suffise.
it room
with speech,as is your guise."

Is is

"

Trick him, cheat him.

right for art and

are

in the Northern
*

Cry

of

dialect of the clerks.

warning.

Horse.

REVE'S

THE

"

Now, Simond

Ave is* thou

I have heard
Slike* as he
But

TALE.

4S3

(saidthis John),by Saint CuthWrt,

say,

that is fair answer 'd.

shall take of two things
take slike' as he brings.

and

merry,
men

finds,or

I pray thee,host^ dear.

'specially

Get
And

us

drink,and make
at the full ;
truly
payen
meat

some

will

we

and

us

cheer,

With

empty hand men

may no hawkfes tuU,'
here
silver
Lo,
our
ready for to spend."
This miller into town
his daughter send
For ale and bread,and roasted tnem
a
goose.,
And bound
their horse,he should no more
go
And

in his

With

chamber them

own

made

loose,

bed,

sheet^s and

with chalons* fair yspread,

Not from his owen
bed ten foot or twelve.
His daughter had a bed all by herselve
Right in the samfe chamber
by and by ;
and 'caus^ why.
It mights be no bet*,

There

was

no

They
And

suppen,
drinken

Abouten

roomier herberw* in tne

and they speak them to
ever

strong ale

midnight

went"

at

place.
solace.

the best.

they to

rest.

hath the miller varnishfed his head,

and nought red
Full palehe was, for-drunken,"
and he speaketh through the nose,
He yoxeth,'
the quake, or on the pose.**
As he were
on
To bed he go'th,and with him go'th his wife,
Well

As

So

any
was

jay she lightwas

her jollywhistle

and

joTif,

well ywet.

beddfes feet is set,

To rocken,and to give the child to suck.
all in the crock,'
And when that drunken was
the daughterrightanon.
To bedd^ went
To bedd^ go'thAleyn, and also John.
There n'as no more
; needeth them no dwale,*^
This miller hath so wisely" bibbfed ale,
That as a horse he snorteth in his sleep.

The

cradle

at her

full strong ;
a
His wife bare him a burden
hearen
her
Men
a
routing"
might
furlong.
The

wenchfe

[The youths

routeth
amuse

now

eke/ar compagnie.

themselves

in

taking their

revenge

2
^L^re.
Art.
Such, in the Northern dialect.
"
"
in France.
Blankets or coverlets from Chalons
Lodging.
*
"
Hiccupeth.
Quite drunk.
" Mr. Home
translates this line as follows :
As with the worst of colds,or quinsy'sthroes,
and there is no doubt that he has given its spirit.
"

"

"

Earthen

jug.

**

Sleeping potion.

"

Certainly.

"

Sno.irg.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

454

daughter

not

unwittinglymakes

of them

but in the end one

the aroused Miller

himself,and makes

agreeable

very

some

him.

to

confidant

remarks

upon

the Miller bursts

So

of
his

out',]

falsfeclerk,"(quoth he,)
falsfetraitor,
be
shalt
Thou
dead,by Goddfes dignity,
Who
durstfe be so bold to disparage
Ah

"

"

of high lineage,
My daughter,that is come
And by the throatfe-bolehe caught Aleyn ;
again,
And he him hent* dispiteously

And

the

on

Down

floor,with

the

on

she

*'

was

the fall,
rightout

\ with

An

Help, holy

In

at

of

cross

stone,

his

on

wife,

strife ;

nothing of this nic^

fallen asleep.

wistfe

For

stumbled

he fcll6 backward

down

That

nose

as

And up they go,

Till that the miller
And

'?

his breast ;
upon
and mouth
to-broke,

pigg^s in a poke.
and down
they go anon,

wallowden

They

with his fest

him

bloody stream

the

ran

And

he smote

nose

sleepshe braid."
(she said,)

of

Bromeholm,'

tuas^ Lord, to thee I call !

manus

is in thine hall ;
but dead
; help ; I am

Awake, Simond, the fiend

heart is broken

Mine

Help, Simkin, for

these falsfeclerk^s

fight.

he might,
This John start up as fast as ever
And grasped by the wallas to and fro
To find a staff ; and she start up also,
the estres* better than did John,
And knew

And
And

by

And
But

saw

For at

staff anon,
little glimmering of light.
she

the wall

took

hole in shone the moonfe

them
that lightshe saw

by
she
sikerly"*

wist not

who

bright,
bothfe two.
.

who,

was

thing in her eye ;

thing espy,
wear'd
had
clerk
the
a voluperef
ween'd'
She
her
drew
and near,^
she
staff
the
with
near
And
this
hit
the
have
at
ween'd
full,
Aleyn
And
this miller on the pilled
skull,
And smote
he go'th,and cryeth, Harow, I die !
That down
as^ she saw
And when she

But

white

'gan this whitfe

*'

These clerkfesbeat him well,and let him lie,

them, and take their horse anon.
And greithen*"
their
they gone
meal, and home anon
And eke

Seized.

Certainly.

"

Nearer

and

Fist.

Except

that.

'

'"
nearer.

Started.
Fancied.
Get themselves

''

Interior.

Night.
ready.

THE

R EVE'S

TALE.

455

And at the millfedoor they took their cake

full well ybake.
Of half a bushel flour,
Thus is the proudfemiller well ybeat,
And
And

Of

ylostthe grindingof the wheat,

payed for the supper every del
Aleyn and of John that beat him well.
hath

either two
on
amusing French
The Reve's Tale is founded
fabliaux reprinted,with English sidenotes, in the Chaucer
*
Originalsand Analogues,' pp. 87-100, or the source
Society's
from

which

these

fabliaux sprang.

THE

TALE.

MERCHANT'S
HILOM

there

that

worthy knight,

And

lived

he

which

In

forty

in

Were

it for

I cannot

but

say,

Hadd^

was

great

man

for

or

such

he

that

passdd sixty.

was

courdge

knight to be a wedded
man.
That
day and night he doth all that he can
To
be
that he might wedded
'spien, where
Lord
to gran
ten
him, that he
Praying our
knowen
blissful
of
that
on^s
life,
Might
this

1 hat

is betwixt

And

which
other

Thus

certainly,
take

is

his

out, Alas

life in

bound.

woman

so

fruit
a

God

as

is

fair, to

joy

and

that

they

it is

King,

when

all his

of

him

bear

glorious

is old

man

and

son

whereas

And

bachelors

That

brittle

On

when

They
In

find

these

liberty, and

as

be

so.

pain

they build,

ground

but

to

often

they believe
live

childish

well

have

and

and

themselves
bird

under

or
no

as

arrest

woe

beast.
;

brittleness

secure.

hoar,
he

successor,

adversity
vanity.

any

but

matter

and

should

Then

treasure.

solace

is
love, which
truely it suit

In

find

!
When

they

to

man

especially

and

the
and

is

sooth

as

wife
wife

young

lead

wife

firsts

wife

bond

holy

life

wedlock

That

to

God

his

and

that

und^r

a
bean,
(said he) is worth
holy, and so clean,
in this world
it is a paradise :
saith
this olde
wise.
knight, that was
so

None
For

then

husband

live

for to

With

And

he.

dotage

great

was

"

when

holiness

Lombardy
of Pavie,
prosperity ;

bom

wifeless

years

"

And

in

dwelling

was

bachelors

take
and
cry

MERCHANTS

THE

TALE,

457

There as a wedded
in his estate
man
Liveth a lifeblissfiil
and ordinate
Under the yoke of marriag^ey bound :
Well may his heart in joy and bliss abound,
For who can be so buxom^
as a wife ?
Who
is so true and eke so ittentife
To keep him, sick and whole,as is his make?'
she will him not forsake :
For weal or woe
She is not weary him to love and serve,
Though that he lie bedrid tillthat he starve.'

And

yet

clerk^s

some

Theophrastus
"

But

is one.

Ne take

no

As for to spare
A

servant

true

"

It

say,

what

is

not

so."

Of

these

though

matters

Theoprastlist to lie?
for husbandry
household thydispense
;

wife,"quoth he, **
in

doth

more

diligence

keep^,than thine owen

Thy goods
wife.
For die will claim half part in all her life.
And if that thou be sick,so God me save.
knave*
or a truS
Thy very friendfes,
Will keep thee bet' than she,that waiteth aye
After thy goods,and hath done many
a day."
tim^s worse,
This sentence, and a hundred
Writeth this man
; there God his bonfes curse
But take no keep* of all such vanity,
Defieth Theophrast,and hearkeneth
!
me
to

A wife is verilyGod*s
As

gift. All

other Jcindof

gifls,
certainly,

landes,rentes,pasture, or commtine,"

of forltine
Or mebles' all be giftfes
That passen as a shadow on a wall ;
But dread^ not, if I plainlytellen shall,
and in thine house endure
A wife will last,
Well longerthan thee list peridventure.
Marriage is a full great sacrament
;
He which hath no wife,I hold him shent ;'
and all desolate ;
He liveth helpless,
of
in
folk
secular
(I speak
estate);
And barken why, I say not this for nough*
That woman
is for mannas
help)rwrought

When
high God made Adam, he said then of his goodness,
''
this man,
make
like unto
Let us now
a help unto
himself,"
and
then he made
Eve.
Here
and
that a
see
prove
ye may
wife is man's lifeand comfort"
his terrestrialparadise.
'Obedient.
^

Common,

"
'

Mate.

Movables,

"

Perish.
^

Poubt,

Servant
"

man.

Ruined,

'Heed,

458

CANTERBURY
So buxom

TALES.

so virtuous is she
need^s live in unity :
One flesh they be, and one blood,as I ^uess,
Math but one heart in weal and in distress.
A wife ? ah ! Saints Mary, benedicite^
How
have any adversity
might a man
That hath a wife ? certes I cannot
say
The joy the which that is betwixt them tway,
There may no tongufetell or hearts think.
If he be poor, she helpethhim to swink ;"
and wasteth never
She keepeth his floods,
a del'
she
All that her husband
liketh
well ;
list,
"
She saith not ones
nay," when he saith " yea '* ;
"'
saith he ; " all ready,sir,"saith she.
Do this,"
O blissful order,O wedlock
precious,
eke so virtuous.
Thou
art so nrerry, and
And so commended, and approved eke,'
that holds him worth a leek,
That every man
his
bar^
knees ought all his life
Upon
his God, that him had sent a wife ;
Thanken
Or elles pray to God one him to send
To be with him unto his liv^s end.
For then his life is set in sikernesse *
I guess,
He may not be deceived,
as

They

and

musten

"

so

Then

may

They

be

he
so

boldlybearen

and also
trufe,

his
wise.

up

so

head,

A wife is keeper of thine husbandry:

bewail and weep,
Well may the sickfe man
There as there is no wife the house to keep

after his wivds counsel.

that he work

warn

thee,if thou wilt work

wisely,

Love well thy wife as Christ lov^th his church

If thou lovdst thyself,
love thou thy wife.
hatdth his flesh,
but in his life
No man
I thee,
He fostereth it,and therefore warn

thrive.
Husband
cherish thy wife, or thou shall never
and
what
wife
though men
jestand sport, they hold the sure path.
harm
there
be
no
so
knit,
happen ; and especially
They
may
side.
wives
the
upon
"

For which

this

January,of

whom

told.

Considered hath within his day^s old

The

the
lustylife,

virtuous

qui^t

That is in marriagfe
honey-sweet.
1

Labour.

'

Never

bit.

"

Also.

Security.

MERCHANTS

THE

TALE.

4S9

for his friend^s

And

on
a day he sent
th' effect of his intent.
With fac^ sad, he hath them this tale told
"
I am
He saidfe,
hoar and old
Friendfes,
And
almost (God wot) on my pittes
brink.'
I think :
must
L'pon my soulfe somewhat

To

tellen them

I have

body

my

dispended,
foolishly

Hlessed be God that it shall be amended

;
For I will be certain a wedded
man,
And
that anon
in all the haste I can.
Unto some
maiden, fair and tender of a^e.
I pray you helpethfor my marriage
All suddenly,for I will not abide ;
1 will try to discover

And

To
But

I may
whom
forasmuch

Ye

should^

Than
But

ye be
rather such

I,and where me
one
thing warn

no

hastily;
than I,

more
a

thipg^espy

best

so

much

ally.

friendfes dear,

my

mannere

sixteen 3^ear certain.

twenty years old.

woman

widows, they know

passen

to

were

I you,
old wife have in no

I will no
She shall not
I will have

be wedded
as

And

as

to

these

old

craft,

That with them should I never

live in rest :
For sundry school^s maken
subtle clerk^s.
of many
Women
the half a clerk is.
a school,
But certainly,
a
thing men
gie^
may
young
with
handfes
wax
Right as men may warm
ply ;
Wherefore
I say you plainlyin a clause,
I will no oldfe wife have for that cause.
than
should eat me
rather hounds
inheritance fall
my
I dote not.
I know
the cause
into strange hands.
why men
that many
should wed, though I also know
a man
speaks of
of it than
A. man
who
knows
wedlock
no
more
page.
my
with
he
have
should take a wife
great devotion, that
may
of God, and that they should help each
children to the honour
other in misfortune, and live a chaste life.
And
God be thanked
my health is good.
1 would

I be hoar,I fare as doth a tree

blossometh
the fruit ywaxen
be ;
ere
A blossomy tree is neither dry ne dead :
I feel me
where hoar but on my head.
no

Though
That

At

past

faster than

sixty.In
they do

now.

Chaucer's

men
days
^

Guide.

lived harder

and aged
lives,

46o

CANTERB

UR

TALES.

Mine heart and all my limbos be as green

As laurel through the year is for to seen.
And sinci ye have heard all mine intent,
I pray you to my will that ye assent.'*

told him different old examples of marriage

men
Some
blamed, some
praisedit. But at the last shortlyto say.
there fella strifebetween
two
brethren,one called Placebo and
the other Justinus.
Different

Placebo said ; " O January,brother,

Full little
need have ye, my lord so dear,
Counsel to ask of any that is here,

but

that ye

be

pleasethyou

not

so

to

full of

wisdom,
departfrom the

that for prudence sake

word of Solomon.

it

This word said he unto us every

one
;
Work
all^ thing by counsel,'
thus said he,
*
And thennd sh^t thou not repenten thee.*
But though that Solomon
spake such a word,
dear^ brother,
Mine owen
and my lord,
So wiselyGod bringmy soul ease and rest,
counsel is the best.
I hold your owen
For,brother mine, of me take this motife,
I have now
all my life,
been a court-man
And God it wot^though I unworthy be,
I hav^ standen m full great degree
lord^ in full high estate ;
Abouten
Yet had I never
with none
of them debate,
them contribi^d truely,*
I never
I wot well that my lord can more
than I ;
What
that he saith,
I hold it firm and stable,
*

I say the same,

or

something similar.

A full great fool is any counsellour

That serveth any lord of high honour
That dare presume, or on^s thinken it,
That his counsel should pass his lord^s wit.
by my fciy.
Nay, lord"s be no foolfes,
Ye nave
yourselyspoken here to-day
So high sentence,so holy,and so well,
That I consent, and cdnfirm every del'
and your opinion:
Your word^s all,
in all this town,
By God, there is no man
"fein Itafll^,
could better have said,
Christ holdeth him of this full well repaid^
it is a high course
And truely
Of any man
that stoopen is in age
"

No

doubt

at Court,
part of Chaucer's experience

Every bit.

THE

TALE.

MERCHANTS

461

To take a young wife : by my father kin,

Your heartfe hangeth on a jolly
pin.
Do now
in this mattfere rightas )^ou lest.*
I hold it for the best."
For finally
that aye stillfesat and heard,
Justinus,
Right in this wise to Pldcebo answer'd,
**
Now, brother mine, be patientI you pray,
Since ye have said,
and hearkeneth what I say.

Senec*,amongfesother wordfes wise,

Saith,that a man
ought hfm rightwell advise
To whom
he giveshis land or his catt^l.^
And since I ought advisen me rightwell
To v/hom I give my eoods away from me,
I ought advised for to be
Well more
I give my body : for alw^y
To whom
I warn
you well it is no childfesplay
To

Men

must

wife without

inquire(thatis my

must

sober,or
scold,or

take

opinion)whether she

be wise and

drunkard, and proud, and in other ways a shrew,

of thy goods,or rich or poor ; or else a man
waster

a
a

advisfement.

be mad.
All be it so, that no man
fiindenshall
None
in this world,that trotteth whole in all.
No man, ne beast,such as men
devise.
can

But
more

nevertheless

it ought

than
good qualities

to

sufi^ce for any

wife that she has

bad.

And

ailthis asketh

For

God

And

observdnces

leisure to inquire.
it wot, I have wept many
a tear
Full privily
since I have had a wife.
Praise whoso will a wedded mannas
life.
Certain I find in it but cost and care,

and

yet, God

knows,

of all blisses bare ;

my

neighbours about, and

a
especially

great host of women,

Say
And

that I have

the most^ steadfastwife.

eke the meekest one
that beareth life.

I know
best where my shoe pinchethme.
Ye may, for me,
do as best pleaseth
Consider
be
of age
how
a
man
you.
ye
into
and
with
fair
and
wife.
a young
wedlock,
ye enter
especially
1 pray you that ye be not repaidwith evil."
"
A straw for
Well," quoth January, "and hast thou said?
Seneca, and a straw for thy sayings. I reckon not your school
But

"

Please.

chattels.

"

CANTER

4^2
terms

worth

BUR

TALE

"r.

Wiser
of herbs.
assented before to my

panierfull

than

men

ihou

ha\ c,

T lace

bo,
heard,
purpose.
"
?
say ye
"
"
mony.
that hinderelh matri1 say It is a cursed man," quoih he,
"
And
with that word
they all rose suddenly, and are
when
and where he pleases.
he
should wed
agreed that

as

yc

have

what

The fantasie and curious business

From
day to day 'gan in the soul
( )f

impress

his marriage.
fair
fair shape,and many
a

Januaryabout

Many

visjlge

passeththrough his hearth night by night,

took a mirror polishedbright.
As whoso
And set it in a common
market-place.
Then
should he see many
a
figurepace
By his mirror,and in the same wise
'Gan January in his thought devise
him
Of maidens,which that dwelUd
beside,
He wistfe not where that he might abide,
have beauty in her -face,
For though that one
in
the people'sgrace
stands so
Another
For her sadness* and her benignity.
That of the people greatestvoice hath she.
There

And some
rich,and hadden a bad name.
were
and game.
But natheUss,betwixt earnest
him
He at the last appointed
anon.
And
let all other from his hearts gone ;
And
chose her of his own
authority.
For love is blind all day, and may
not see.
And when he was
into the beddfe brought,^
in his heart and in his thought,
He p6rtrayed
freshfe beauty,and her agfetender.
middle small,her armfes long and slender,
her gentleness.
wisfe governance,

Her

Her
Her
Her

and

womanly

earnest

bearing.

And when that he on her was

condescended.
Him
thought his choice might not be amended
;
For when
that he himself concluded had.
Him
wit so bad,
thought each other mannas

that it were
impossibleto say a word against his choice ; this
his
was
fantasy. He sent to his friends,praying them to do
him
He
that pleasure,that they would
come
nastilyto him.
would abridgeall their labours.
needed
to
more
no
They
go
to ride,he had made
Placebo
nor
to rest.
up his mind where
firstwith his friends.
came
January asked them all a boon,
*

Seriousness.

And

when

in

fancy.

MERCHANTS

THE

that

they would

TALE.

of them

none

make

463

against his

arguments

purpose.
Which

was
pleasdntto God (saidhe),
of his prosperity.
ground
very
in the town,
He said,there was
a maiden
that of beauty hadde
Which
great renown.
it so, she were
All were
of small degree,
Sufficeth him her youth and her beaut)';
Which
maid (he said)he would
have to his wife,

purpose

And

To

lead in

And

and

ease

thankM

That

God,
wight with

no

And

prayed
shapen

And
For

his life :

might

Save

is
one

The

I will rehearse

I have

heard

For
Yet

is there

And

in your

presence.

ever

of thilke tree,

perfectfelicity
and

ease

lust* in

I shall lead^

now

so

I shall have

age

life.
strife.
a

merry

woe

mine

marriage,

in mine

aghastnow

am

withouten
delicate,

That

ease.

(quoth he) full yore ago,

have perfect
blisses two.

ilkfebranch
so

great

so

That
That

at

no
man
may
is to say, in earth,and eke in heaven.
though he keep him from the sinn^s seven.

eke from

And

all,

said

There
This

her

(quoth he) no thing may me displease,

thing pricketh in my conscience,

which

"

have

his blissfe parten shall ;

them
in this need,
to labour
that he failfenot to speed.

was
then, he said,his spirit

There

So

holiness
that he

or

in earthc here ;

heaven

For

since that very heaven is bought so dear

With
tribulation and great penance.
How
should
1 then,livingin such pleasance
As
come

and

alle wedded

do with

men

the bliss eternal where

to

ye, my

brethren,

two

hated
Justinus,who
bantering,and in order
authority.

wives,

Christ is?

beg

his
to

their

This

ye to answer
tolly,answered

is my

this
at

dread,
question."
in

once

abridge a long tale,would

allege no

"

But

obstacle
saidfe, Sir,so there be none
God
Other
than this,
of his high miracle,

And
Tiiat

Ye

of his mercy
ere
ye have

may

may
your

for you werchcrites of holy church

so

repent of wedded

life,

mannes

In which

strife:
ne
ye say there is no woe
And
but if he sent
ell^s God forbid,
the grace him to repent
A wedded
man
Well
And
*

often,rather than
therefore,
Sir,the

Pleasure.

Work.

singleman.

besle

rede
"'

his

can,^

Advice, 1 know, is.

CANTERBURY

464

TALES.

have in your memory,

be your pur^tdry;
Peraitoteri she may
and Goddiis whip,
She may be Godd^s
mean
Then
shall your soulfe up to heaven skip
out of bow.
Swifter than doth an arrow
I hope to God hereafter ye shall know

Despairyou not, but

That there n' is

In marriage, ne
to hinder

you from
wit is but thin.

your

none
never

great felicity
shall be,

so

more

salvation.

My

tale is

done,

for my

Be not aghasthereof,my brother dear,

"
But let us waden
out of this matt^re.

And

now

men

saw

Justinusand his brother take their leave. And

that the marriage must
needs be, they wrought

sleightand

by wise treaty, that this maiden, who

when
so

by

called

was

May,
As hastilyas ever
that she might,
be unto
Shall wedded
this January.
I trow it were
too longiyou
to tarry
If I you told of every scriptand bond
By which that she was feoff^ in his lond ;
Or for to hearken of her rich array.
But
to

the day is come,

finally
receive the holy Sacrament

that

they both

went

to the

Forth

Cometh the priest,

with stole about his
bade her be like Sarah and Rebek'^
In wisdom, and in truth of marriage.
And said his orisons,
is usige.
as
And cross^ them, and bade God should them
And made all sure
with holiness.
enow
Thus be they wedded
with solemnity;

church,

neck,

And

blesa,

And at the feasts sitteth he and she

With other worthy folk upon the dais.
All full of joy and bliss is that paldce,
And full of instruments,
and of vitallle
The most" dainteous of all Itaille.
Before them stood such instruments
of soun
That Orpheus, ne Thebes
Amphion,
such a melody.
Ne maden
never
there came
At every course
loud minstrelsy,
That never
trumped Joab for to hear
Ne he Theodomas
^yethalf so clear
in doubt.
At Thebes, when the citywas
Bacchus the wine them skinketh ^ all about,
"

"

By chance,perhaps.

Rebecca.

"

Poureth,

THE
And

MERCHANVS

Venus

TALE.

laugheth upon

(For Januarywas

become

And

465

every wight,
her knight
his courAge

wouldfe both assayen

and eke in marriage)
liberty,
And with her firebrand in her hand about
Danceth
before the bride and all the rout.
And
certainlyI dare rightwell say this,
In

Hym^neus,
Saw

Hold

that

of

god

his' life so

never

wedding is,
a

merry

wedded

man.

thou

thy peace, thou Marcian poet, that writest us of the

wedding of Philologieand Mercury, and of the songs that the
Muses
sung : too small is thy pen and thy tongue to describe
this marriage.
When
There

tender
is such

youth
mirth

hath wedded
stoopingage,
that it may
not be write*^

then
Assayeth it yourself,
If that I lie

Mains*
Her to

But

wite.*

ye

no

behold,it seemed

(jueen Hester looked

On Assuere*,
so meek
I may

may

in this mattdre.
that sit with so benign a
or

you

not

cheer,
Faery ;

with such eye

look hath she ;
a
devise all her beauty ;

thus much

never

beauty tell I may.

of May,
was
brightmorrow
Fulfilled of all beauty,and pleasdnce.
This January is ravished in a trance
That

she

time he looketh

At every

that

The hour came

from the feast.

of her

like the

it

was

but

in her face.

reasonable

they should

rise

after that men

dance,and drinks fast,
about
all
the house they cast.
spices
full of joy and bliss is every man.
All but a squirethat hightfe*
Damian,
carved before the knight full many
Which
a day ;
his
ravished
He was
on
so
lady May,

And
And
And

that for the very

he stood there
as

pain he

was

nearly mad

; he

swooned

almost

hath Venus
hurt him witli her brand,
sore
As that she bare it dancing in her hand.
him hastily;
And to his bed he went
of him as at this time tell I ;
No more
his woe
But there I let him now
complain,
Till fresh^ May will men
his pain.
on
So

In his.
'

Written.
Abasuenis.

"

Was

Know.

named

May.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

466

O perilousfire,
that in the bedstraw breedeth
that his service bedeth ! *
O foe familiar,
of homely hue,
O servant
traitor,
false,
adder
in
bos6m
the
Like to
untrue,
shield us allfefrom your AcquaintanceI
God
in pleasance.
0 JanuAry,drunken
Of marriage,see how thy Damian,
Thine ownfe squire,and thybomfe man,
Intendeth

for to do thee
;
God grantfethee thine homely foe to spy.
For in this world n* is worsfe pestilence
Than homely foe,all day in thy presence.

villainy

hath

Performed
No
On

longermay
th'

the Sun

the

horizon,as

body

his

dium,*
sojoiim

arc

of him

in that latitude

Night with his mantle,that is dark and rude,

'Gan overspreadthe hemisphere about :
For which departedis the lustyrout
From

with
January,

Home

to their houses

There

as

thank

every side.

on

lustily
they ride,
they do their thing^sas them lest,
And, when they saw their timfe,
go to rest.
Now

will I

speak of

the woeful

Damian,

that

languishethfor

love.
1 say, O silly
Damian, alas !
Answer
to my
demand, as in this case,
How
shalt thou to thy lady freshfe May
Tellen thy woe
She will alwiy say nay ;
?
Eke if thou speak,she will thy woe
betray;
God be thy help,I can no better say.

This

Damian

might

no

privatelyhe borrowed
letter,
In

manner

Unto

of

longer endure
pencase,

and

in

wrote

But
this wise.
all his grief in a

complaint or a lay.
lady May.
of silk,
hung on his shirt.

his fairfefresh6

And in a purse
He hath it put, and laid it at his heart.
that at noon
The moonfe
thilk^ day
was
That January hath wedded
freshfe May
In ten of Taurus, was
into Cancer gliden;
So long hath Maius * in her chamber
biden,
is unto
As custom
these nobles all :
brid^ shall not eaten in the hall
Till day^s four,or three days at the

be, then
Ypassfed

The fourthfe day

that the highc
When

"Oflfereth.

Icast^

let her go to feast.

to
complete from noon
masse
2

was

Djumal.

noon

ydone,
3

May.

MERCHANTS

THE

TALE.

In hall^ sit this January and

May,

As fresh as in the bright^summer's

And so befell^,
that this good^ man
Remembered
And saidfe ;
That Damian

467

day.

him upon this Damian,

Saint Mary ! how may this be,
attendeth not to me ?
Is he aye sick ? or how may
this betide ? *'
**

stood

ness,
there,excused him, because of his sickwhich
hindered
him from
attending to his business : no
**
I thought,"
make
him
other cause
That is what
might
tarry.
his
lord,
quoth
His

squires,who

He is a gentlesquidrby my truth ;
If that he died,it were
harm and ruth ;
and eke secr^e,^
He is as wise,discreet,
I wot of his degree;
As any man
And thereto mannerly and serviceable.
And for to be a thrifty
man
rightable.
**

But after meat

I may,
as
ever
as soon
I will myself him visit,
and eke"^ May,
To do him all the comfort that I can."
And for that word him blessed every man,
That of his bounty, and his gentleness
He wouldfe so comf6rt in his sickness
His
"

squire,for it was

gentledeed.

(^uoththis January,

"

take

good heed, that after

when
all
with
ye leave this hall,to see
your women,
ye go
is
him
Gladden
tell him
this Damian.
a gentleman ; and
; he
I have
rested me
that I will visit him
when
little. And
a
for
will
tillthat
I
wait
fast asleep by
speed you fast,
ye are
side."
my
Dame,"

meat

This

freshfe May hath straighther way yhold

Damian.
all her women
unto
by his bedd^s sid^ sit she then,
Comforting him as goodly as she may.
This Damian, when that his time he say,'
In secret wise,his purse, and eke his bill,"*
In which that he ywrittenhad his will.
Hath put into her hand withouten
more
Save that he sigh"dwondrous
deep and sore.

With
Down

And
"

soft^lyto her,rightthus said he

Mercy, do not
thing be known."

discover

me

; for

am

This purse hath she within her bosom

her way
of
And went
; ye get no more
is she.
But unto January ycome
1

Secret.

'

Also.

"

Saw.
L

dead

but

if that

hid.
me

Note, billet-doux.

this

TALES.

CANTERBURY

468

[May

receives but too

and
fevourably the letter,

answers

it.]

the next^ morrow

riseth Damiaa
;
his sickness and his sorrow.
All passedwas
He combeth
him, he prunethhim and
He doth all that unto his lady liketh ; "
And eke to January he go'thas low
did a doggfefor the bow.*
As ever
He is so pleasantunto every man
(For craft is all,whoso that do it can),
That every wight is fain to speak him good ;
And
fullyin his lady's
grace he stood.

Up

picketh,^

leave I Damian

Thus

and

proceed with

my

tale.

clerkfesholden that felicity

Some
and therefore certain he,
Stands in delight,
This noble January,
with all his might,
honest
In
wise as iongethto a knight,
Shaped him to liven full deliciously.
His housing,his array, as honestly
To his degree was
makfed as a king's.
of
honest things,
his
other
Among^s
He had a garden walled all with stone,
So fair a garden wot * I no where none.
For out of doubt I verilysu^^ose
That he that wrote the K6maunt
of the Rose
Ne could of it the beauty well devise :
Ne Priapus ne might not well suffise
for to tell
Though he be god of ^aniens,
of
The "auty
the garden,and the well
That stood und^r a laurel always green.
Full often time he Pluto,and his queen
and all her faerie,
Proserpina,
Disportenthem, and maken melody
told.
About that well,and danced,as men

noble knight,the aged January, hath such pleasurein

walking in his garden, that he will suffer no one to bear the key
but himself; he ever carried the silver key of the small wicket
with which when
he pleasedhe opened it

This

The image referred to is that of a bird busilyengaged taking away,

i,e,pruning 2iXi^
pickingoyx\.\}[i^
damaged or redundant feathers. Thus
Gower

writes,
"

"

That

"

Or,

For there he pruneth him and picketh,

As doth an hawke
when him well liketh."

pleaseshis lady.
as

we

should

now

say,

for the

gun.

What

crouching, watchful
lurcherAov"x^ready, beneath
and
to springupon
his prey !
humility
harmlessness,

pictureof

all his
*

the

apparent
Know.

THE

MERCHANTS

TALE,

469

And in this wisfe many

a
merry day
Livfed this January and freshfe May ;
But worldlyjoy may
not alwdy endure
To January,ne to no creature.
O sudden hap, O thou forttine unstable,
to the Scorpion so d^ceivdble,

Like
That

flatterest with

thy head when thou wilt stingf

;
death, through thine envenoming ;
Thy
O brittle joy,O sweets
venom
quaint,
O monster, that so subtlelycanst paint
under hue of steadfastness,
Thy giftfes,
tail is

And
which

That

thou

deceivest bothfe

Why

hast

thou

That

haddest

him

for

thou hast bereft him

he desireth to die.

now

Alas

thy

and

more

Januar}^thus

less

'}

deceived,

full friend received ?

of both

his eyes

; for

sorrow

of

! this noble

January, free
his prosperity
and
that all suddenly.
Is waxen
blind,
He weepeth and he waileth piteously;
And therewithal the fire of jealousy
(Lest that his wife should fall in some
folly)
So burnt his hearts,that he wouldfe fain
hath both him and her yslain;
That some
man
his death,ne in his life,
neither
after
For
Ne would he that she werfe love, ne wife.
live as widow
in clothes blake,
But ever
his lust * and

Amid

Sole

the turtle that hath

as

But

at the

His

sorrow

For

He

after
last,

lost her make.'

month

*gan assuagen,

or

sooth

tway.
to

wist it may
other
no
:
patientlytook his adversity
when

he

except that,beyond doubt, he may

not

say

be.

he is jealous

forgetthat

evermore.

jealousyit was so o6trageous.

other house,
That neither in hall,ne in none
other place never
the mo'
Ne in none

Which

suffer her to ride or go.

if that he had hand on her alwiy :
For which full often weepeth freshe May.
n' ouldd

He

But

otherwise
other, Damian

[Unable
each

to

obtain
succeeds

in

making

wicket, and enters the garden one morning

and May, and sits stillunder a bush.]
'

Rich

and

poor.

conversation

moment's

Pleasure,joy.

with

false key to the

just before January
a

"

Mate.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

470

Anon
blind
as is a stone,
January,as
With Mains in his hand, and no wightmo',
Into this fresh^ garden is ago',
And clapped to the wicket suddenly.
"
Now
wife,"quoth he, " here n is but ye and
That art the creature that 1 best love :
For by that Lord that sits in heaven above,
I hadd^ liever ' dien on a knife
Than
dearfe true wife.
thee olfenden,
For Goddfes sake,thinkfe how I thee chose,

This

not

1 ;

for covetousness,
But only for the love I had to thee ;
And though that I be old and may not see,
Be true to me
; and I will tell you why ;
Three thing^scertes shall ye win thereby;
honour
First,love of Christ,and to yourself
And all mine heritage,
and tower.
town
I give it vou, make charters as you lest ; ^
This shall be done to morrow
ere
sun
-rest.
So wisely" God my soulfe bring to bliss !
I pray you firstin covenant
ye me kiss.
wite * me nought.
And though that I be jealous,
Ye be so deep imprintedin my thought,
That when that I consider your beauty.
And
therewithal the unlikelyelde * of me,
I may not certes,though I should^ die,
Forbear to be out of your company
For very love ; this is withouten doubt.
kiss me, wife,and let us roam
about."
Now
she his wordfes hearct^
This freshfe May, when
answ^r'd
;
January
But firstand forward she began to weep
;
"
I have,quoth she, a soul^ for to keep
As well as ye, and also mine hon6ur ;
And of my wifehood thilkfetender flower
that I have assured in your bond
Which
When
that the priestto
)^ou my body bound,
I will answer
Wherefore
in this mann^re
lord so dear.
With leave of you, mine owen
I pray to God that never
dawn that day

Benignfelyto

That

"

foul as woman
as
may,
I do unto
kin that shame.
If ever
my
Or ellfes I impair^ so my name.
That I be false ; and if I do that lack,'
Do strippenme
and put me
in a sack,
1

"

'Rather.
Perish.

ne

"

starve

Please.
'A

"

Truljr.

Blame.

fault,vice,or disgraceful
thing.

"

Age.

tkE

MRRCHANtS

TALB,

4^^

"
___"

And
I am

Why
ever

in the next"
a

river do

gentlewoman

and

drench

me

_^"

"_-

wench.

no

be ever
speak ye thus ? But that men
untrue, and women
Ye
have
other
no
reproved.
delight,I believe,but

speak to

of blame

us

and

untrustworthiness."

And with that word she saw

where Damian
Sat in the bush, and coughing she began
And with her j"ngers
sign^smad6 she,
That Damian
should climb upon a tree.

Brightwas the day, and blue the firmament ;

hath sent
Phoebus of gold his streamfes down
To gladden every flower with his warmn^ss
;
He

that time in Gemini, 1 guess,

littlefrom his declination
Of Cancer,Jovfe's
exaltation.
And so befell in that brightmorrow
tide,
That in that garden,on the farther side,
Pluto,that is the king of Faerie,
was

But

a
lady in his company,
many
Following his wife,the queen Proserpina,

And

Which
While

that he ravish'd out of Celicia

that she gatheredflowrfes in the mead

(In Claud'ian
How
This

in his

ye may

the story

cartfe he her

jp^risly

read,
^
fet')

of Faerie adown
him set
bench
of
and green,
turffesfresh
Upon a
said
thus
he to his queen
And rightanon

king

"

My wife,"quoth he, there may no wight say

Th' experienceso proveth every day.
"

nay,

doth to man.
which that woman
The treason
stories tell I can
thousand
Ten hundred
Notdbr
of your untruth and brittleness.
O Solomon, wise and richest of rich^sse.
Fulfilled of sapienceand wordly glory.
Full worthy be thy wordfes to memory
To every wight,that wit and reason
can.
Thus praisethhe the bounty yet of man
;
yet found I one.
Among a thousand men
found I never
But of all women,
none.
Thus saith this king, that know'th your wickedness ;
And Jesus,Filius^ Sirach, as I guess,
of you but seldom reverence.
He speaks
and corrupt pestilence,
wildfe fire,
So fall upon your bodies yet to-night:
Ne see ye not this honourable
knight ?
and old,
blind
that
he
alas
is
!
Because,
A

"

That

is to say, drown

me,

Fetched.

"

Son of.

to

his
the

taLM^.

cantMbury

i)2
own

seeks to

man

dishonour

old, blind,worthy knight

him.
will I grant unto
Now
his
his sight,that he may
see

**

wife's baseness

"
and will ye
Ye shall ?" quoth Proserpine,
I
Now
by my mother Ceres soul swear,
That I shall give her suffisant answ^re,
after for her sake ;
And allfewomen
That though they be in any guiltytake,
With facfe bold they shall themselves excuse,
that wouldfe them accuse
And bear them down
of them
of
shall dien.
For lack
answer, none
Had a man
seen
thing with both his eyen,
Yet shall wom^n
visageit hardily.
"

And

and

weep,

swear,

and

chiden

?"

so

subtlely,

shall be lewfcd * as geese.

So that ye men
of your authorities ?
What
recketh me
this
that
well
I wot
Jew, this Solomon,
of us women
foolfesmany one :
Found
But though that he ne found no good womdn,
another
Yet there hath founds many
man
Women
full true, full good, and virtuous ;
Witness on them that dwelt in Christ^s house ;
With martyrdom they proved their Constance.
make eke remembrance
The Roman
gestfes

Of

many

very true

be
But, Sirfe,
that
Though
I pray

you

not

wife also.

wroth,albeit

so

he said he found no good

woman,
take the sentence
of the man
:

meantfe
He
thus,that in soverdgn bounty
but God, that sit in Trinity
N' is none
Aye, for the very God that n' is but one ;
What
of Solomon
maketh
?
ye so much
What
he
made
Godd^s
a
house ?
though
temple,
he
What
richfe
and
were
though
glorious?
So made he eke a temple of false gods :

How
might he do a thingthat is more
stronglyforbiddingthan
that?
He was
idolater. And
in his age forsook
a libertine and
an
if God
his very God.
And
had not spared him for his father's
sake, he should have lost his kingdom.
I set rightnaught of all the villainy
That ye of women
write,a butterfly.
I

am

Or

need^s must
I
a woman,
elles swells till mine hearth

'

speak,
break.

Stupid,or ignorant.

MERCHANTS

THE

TALE,

473

For since he said that we be jangler^sses,

As ever whole I mights brouke* my tresses,
I shall not sparen for no courtesy,
To speak him harm, that would us villainy."
"

Dame," quoth this Pluto,

**

be

no

longerwroth

J-

I give it up : but since I swore

mine oath
That I will granten him his sightagain,
My word shall stand,I warne
you certain :
I am
not
to lie."
a king,it suit me
"
And I,'quoth she,*' am
of Faerie.
queen
Her answer
I
she
shall
have, undertake,
of it make.
Let us no morS word^
Forsooth 1 will no longeryou contrary."
moment
May has succeeded in gettingaway
from th^ knight'sside,his blindness is removed,
But Proserpina
and he sees the two lovers in too close company.
wit and address
is as good as her word.
s
May's woman
her : she explainsaway the meeting, and almost persuades
save
the knight to distru .t his own
eyes, observing in conclusion]
believe
as you
please;
Yea, Sir,ye may

the
[Accordingly,
Damian

to

that waketh out of sleep.

suddenly well taken keep ^
may
Upon a thing,ne see it perfectly,
Till that he be adaw^d * verily.
that long hath blind ybe.
Right so a man
He may not suddenly so well ysee,
First when his sightis new^ come
again
As he that hath a day or two yseen.
Till that your sightystablish'd
be a while.
There may fiiU many
a sightdyou
beguile.
Beware, I pray you, for by Heaven's king,
ween^th ^ to see a thing,
Full many
a man
And it is all another than it seemeth ;
he misdeemeth."
He that misconceiveth,

But, Sir,a
He

man

not

The story of the Enchanted

Tree, and wifelywiles connected
sketches
with it,is Eastern ; see Mr. Clouston's
of the IndoPersian,Turkish, Arabian, Singhalese, and other versions of
it in the Chaucer
Society's* Originals and Analogues,'pp. 343364, 544, and then, Latin versions, Boccaccio's and Caxton's,

?A, pp. 177-188.

^

in all their luxuriant

Brouke^enjoy,whole^wholly,or

beauty, my

tresses,
*

Take

proper notice at first.

'

Awaked,

Believeth.

MERCHANT

men

Such

salutations

Passeth,

He

must

All

for

us

which

perchance,

cannot,

fond

was

full

wall

of

pany
com-

expense

all.

for

mustfe

pay,

good array,
richdly :

joUily.

dancen

we

had

dances.

at

must

payen

worship

array

He

reverence

on

algate*

owen

was

countenances

clothe, in

his

who

wise.

more

and

shadow

that

silly husband

In

if he

and

is him

and

feastfes

at

the

doth

as

woe

The

And

do

them

That

she

cause

cheer

is all the

worth

But

revel, that

of

and

also

him

beauty

Denis,

Saint

at

held

men

of excellent

wife

Than

dwelt

once

rich, for which

a

TALE.

SHIPMAN'S

THE

likes

else

or

not,

to

such

endure

expense.

Then

must

lend

Or

This

which

For

his largess, and

all

fair
who
young

and

man
was

with
each

other

that

good
first began.

As

in
it

his

for

And

eke

as

and

is

to

was

fair

face, had

as
a

of

familiar

monk,

of
*

tale.

this
been

their

he

was

be.

to

this

as

that

since

friend

my

was
a
little,there
winters
thirty
some

towards

muchel

this

fair.

was

continually

house

possible

And

wife

merchant

this

That

great repair

great
he

house,

noble

hearkeneth

so

was

perilous.
a

day
his

for

I trow

drawing

ever

monk,

guests,

bold,

all

cost,

our

but

is ?

wonder

these

held

haddfe

For

is

that

merchant

he

for

payen
and

gold,

us

noble

What

Among

another

ylost,

and

it is wasted

thinketh

But

goodh

which

Always,

man,

that

I began,

monk,
of

age,
This

house.
so

well

knowledge

quainted
ac-

of

TALE.

SHJPMAirS

THE

47S

both^ two ybornin one vilUge,

The monk him claimeth as for cousinage;

Were

on^s nay,
And he againsthim said not
of day ;
fowl'
a
s
as glad thereof,
But was
pleasdnce.
it
a
was
great
For to his heart
Thus be they knit with etem' illiincCi
And ilk' of them 'ganother to assure,
life may 'dure.'
Of brotherhood,while that their
was
especiallyin his household expenditure,
liberal,
Free and
and in incurringgreat
thisDan
John, and diligentin pleasing
least of the pages in
the
to
He would not forget to give
costs.
with their degree he gave to
allthat house ; but in accordance
when
they came, some
to his men,
the lord,and afterwards
as
glad of his
which
they were
kind of honest thing ; for
of the sun.
the bird is glad at the uprising

coming

as

But

so

this merchant
befell,

on

day,

his array
Shaped him to maken ready
for
to fare,
of
Bruges
Toward the town
of
:
ware
To buyen there a portion
anon
For which he hath to Paris sent
and prayM hath Dan John
A messenger,
to Saint Denis,and pla)
That he should come
With him, and with his wife,a day or tway,
wise.
Ere he to Bruges went, in allfe
I
you devise.
This noble monk, of which
license,
Hath of his abbot,as him list,
of
high
man
prudence,
(Because he was a
out for to ride.
And eke an officer)
wide.
To see their granges, and their bam"s
anon.
Saint Denis he comes
And
unto
Dan John,
lord
as
welcome
my
so
Who
was
?
Our dearfe cousin,full of courtesy
Malvoisie*
of
a
With him he brought jubbe
Vernage,*
And eke another full of wine^

his

usdge
And Volantyn,'as aye was
and play.
and
drink,
them
I
let
eat,
And thus
and* this monk, a dayor tway.
This merchant
up he riseth.
The thirds day this merchant
:
adviseth
him
And on his need"s sadly^
he.
house
go'th
And up into his counting
be.
well
as
may
with
reckon
himself,
To
him
with
stood,
it
that
how
Of thilk^ year,
had his good,
And how that he dispended
"

to be
They were
Knight's Tale.
* A
speciesof. wine
'

"

Bird.

Each.
in the

and Arcite
like Palamon
brothers,
* A
vessel holding Malmsey wine.
^
" Wild
Seriously.
fowl,or game.
called.

sworn

so

47"

TALES.

CANTERBURY

And If that he increaskl were

or non.
His bookte and hia bagg^ many
a on"
He hath before him oams
board ;
counter
Full rich^ was
his treasure and his hoard ;
For which full fast his counter
door he shet '}
And
eke he would^ no nan
should him let^
Of his accountds,
for the mean^
time :
And thus he sat,tillit was
passM prime.
Dan John was
risen in the mom
also,
And in the garden walketh to and fro,
And
hath his thing^ssaid full courteously.
This eood^ wife came
walking privily
Into the garden,there he walketh soft,
And him saluteth,
she hath done oft.
as

child

maiden

she

guide as
discipline.

with her, whom

was
pleases,for the maid was

dear cousin
"
rise
to
so early?
**

mine, Dan

she

and
govern
staff
of
under
the
yet
may

John,**said she," what aileth

you

**

Niece,*'quoth he, "five hours* sleepin a night ought to

But,dear niece, why be ye so pale? *'
suffice,
except for an old man.
said she, to no wight dare I tell how
it stands
"Alasl"
"

with me.
to make

Wherefore
I think to go
end of myself.

an

out

of this country,

or

else

I of dread and eke of care."

So full am
This monk
began upon this wife to stare,
And said," Alas ! my niec^,God forbid.
That ye for any sorrow, or any dread,
but telleth me
Fordo* yourself,
your grief,
I may in your
mischief*
Peridventure
Counsel or help : and therefore telleth me
All your annoy.
'

oath that
Portos' here I make
an
It shall be secret, for on
my
shall I betray your
in my
or
life,
unwillingly,
willingly
never
confidence."
"

The

same

By God
Though

"

"

again to j'^ou,"
quoth she, I say."
and by this Portoc* will I swear,

all in pieces
woulden
men
me
tear,
shall I never, for to go to hell.
Betray one word of thing that ye me tell,
Nought for no cousinage,ne illidnce.
But verilyfor love and ifhdnce."
Thus be they sworn, and hereuponykist,
And each of them told other what them list.
"
Cousin,"quoth she,*" if that I had a space.
As I have none, and namely'in this place,
Ne

^
*

^ Disturb
Shut.
*
Misfortune.

or

hinder him.

Breviary.

'

Undo

"

Especially.

; make

away

with.

The

TaU:.

sHiPMAirs

417

would I tell a legend of my life,

I have suffered since [ was
a wife,
mine husbdnd, though he be your cousfn."
"
Nay," quoth this monk, " by God and Saint MarUn,
He is no mord cousin unto me,
Than is this leaf that hangeth on the tree :
I cleped^him so, by Saint Denis of France,
To have the mor^
of dcquaintance
cause
Then
What
With

with you ; then tell me

"

Oh, my

And

lest that he come

adown,
your grief,
hasteth you, and go'th your way anon."

Dan

John," said she,

Full lefe'me were

this counsel for to hide.
But out it must, I may
abide.
more
no
the worsts
Mine husband
is to me
man
That ever
sithen the world began.
was
"

What

know
well
would
that
They
hardy, wise,rich,liberal and kind.

is his

grieves me

most

that some
things women
their husbands
should be

niggardliness. Ye

naturallydesire.

But by the Lord that for us all^ bled,

For his honour myselven to array,
A

Sunday

hundred
Yet were
Than
me

coming yet

next

franks,or

ell^s

lever that

me

must

I pay

I lome.^

am

unborn

were

done slander or villainy

were
;
if mine husband
eke might it espy,
I n'ere but lost,
and therefore I you pray
Lend me this sum, or ellds must
I dey.
Dan
hundred
I
lend
this
franks j
me
John, say,
Pard6
I will not failldthee my thanks,
If that you lust* to do that I you pray.
For at a certain day I will you pay."
And

This

gentle monk
"

Now

I have

answered,

truelymine
on

you

so

owen

lady dear,

g^eat pityand

ruth

That I you swear, and plightdvou

my truth.
That when your husband
is to Flanders fare,
I shall deliver you out of your care.
For I will bringen you a hundred
franks.

"Go

let
now," said he, "and
should
cooks that they
hasten,
*

Called.

"Glad.

us

dine."

^Lost.

The

wife bade

Please.

the

y TALES.

CAlfTRMVR

47"
^

So that men
mights dine,and that anon.
wife yeone,
Up to her husband is this
door^
his
bold^ly.
at
And knocketh
"
""
he.
"
Peter,it am I,'"
quoth
Qui est Id ?
?
"
How
longi,Sir^,will ye fast
Quoth she.
and cast
How
long^ time will ye reckdn
?
and
your things
Your summ^s, and your bookte
1
The devil have part of all such reckonings
; come
Ye have enough, parde,of God's gifts
ashamed
Are
ye not
bag alone.
let your
?
should fast this long cheerless day

to-dayand

down
that

Dan

"

?
hearfe mass, and go we dine
"
thou
canst
little
"
Wife," quoth this man,
have :
that
we
business^
The curious
me
God
save,
all
so
For of us chapmen,
Saint
is
Ive,
that
cleped
And bv that lord
two shall thrive

What

? let

us

Scarcelyamong^s twelv^,
lastingunto our
Continually,

divine

age.

cheer and good visage.

well maken
We
may
it may
be,
And dnvfe forth the world as

privity,
And keepen our estate
that
we
play
ellfes
Till we be dead, or
the
of
way.
or go out
A pilgrimage,
I
necessity,
have
great
therefore
And
world to Advise me.
Upon this quaintfe*
stand in dread
most^
we
For evermore
Of hap and fortune in our chapmanhead.
at day.
To Flanders will I go to-morrow
I
ever
may.
as
again as soon
And come
thee
I
beseeke,*
For which, my dearfe wi.e,
in

As

And
And

and meek.
wight buxom
be
curious,^
for to keep our goods
house.
well
our
honestlygovern^
wise,
hast enough, in every manner
suflfise.
husband
may
to a thrifty

be to every

Thou
That
vitallle ;
array, ne no
Thee lapketh none
thou
may'st not fail.
Of silver in thy purse
door he shet.
And A^dth that word his counter
he let*;
would
he go'th; no longer
And down
there ysaid.
was
a mass
And hastily
ylaid,
were
tables
the
And speedily
them
sped.
faste
they
And to the dinner
fed.
monk
the
this chapman
And richfely
And after dinner Dan John soberly
and privily
This chapman took apart,
"
"
*

is there ?
watchful.
Careful

Who

"

Strange
Delay.

Beseech.

John

SHIPMAirS

THE
He

said him

TALE.

479

*'

Cousin, it standeth so,

I
well
^o
That,
Bruges will ye go ;
see,
God and Saint Austin speeds you and guide,
I pray you, cousin, wiselythat ye ride.

Govern

thus

diet

also of your

you
this heat.

Betwixt

and especially
during
temperately,

need^th no strangfefare ;
Farewell,cousin, God shields )"ou from care I
If anything there be by day or night.
If it lay in my power and my might.
in any
That ye me will command
wise.
It shall be done, rightas 3'e will devise.
One thing ere that ye go, if it might be,
I would^ prayen
you to lend^ me
A hundred
frank"s for a week or tway,
For certain beastfes that I must"
bey,*
To storfe with a placfe
that is ours
:
(God help me so, I would that it were yours)
I shall not faill6surelyof my day.
Not for a thousand
franks.
us

two

But I pray you let this

beasts to-night.

thing be secret, for

I would

buy these

And

fare now
cousin dear.
well,mine owen
Grand mercy
of your cost and of your cheer I *'
This noble merchant
gentlelyanon
and said," O cousin mine, Dan John,
Answered
this is a small request :
Now
sikerly^
My gold is yourfes whenn^ that you lest*
And not only my gold,but my chaffare ;*
God shields that ye spare.
Take what you list,

is
But one
thing ye know well enough of chapmen, that money
borrow
while we have a name.
their plough. We
It is
must
either
without
it
be
So
to
or
goods
no
again
sport
money.
pay
convenient
I would gladlypleaseyou to the best
when
to you.
of my might."
frank^s fetched he forth anon,
hundred
he took them to Dan John :
And privily
No wightin all this world wist of this loan
Saving the merchant, and Dan John alone.
awhile,and play,
They drink,and speak,and roam
Till that Dan John riddth to his abbdy.
The morrow
rideth
came, and forth this merchant
These

To

Buy.

Flanders

ward

Certainly,

; his

"

well
'prentice

Please,

him

guideth

Merchandize.

Forbid.

TALES.

CANTERBURY

48o

to Bruges merrily.
Till that he came
"ast and busily
merchant
this
Now
go'th
and creanccth ;*
his need, and buycth
About
He neither playethat the dice,ne danceth ;

But

He

as

merchant, shortlyfor

and
leads his life,,

there

to

tell,
dwell.

I let him

[Taking advantage of this loan, Dan

franks,and
chant's wife the hundred
duty to her absent husband.]

John gives
her

causes

the

to

to

mer-

forget

her

the fair,
This merchant, when that ended was
To Saint Denis he 'gan for to repair,
feast and cheer.
with his wife he maketh
And
is
chafTere
so dear
that
telleth
her
And

that he

needs

must

make

an

agreement for

loan.

bound in a recognizance,
For he was
To payen twenty thousand shields^ anon.
is to Paris gone
For which this merchant
of certain friend^s that he had
To borrow
with him he lad.*
A certain frankes,and some
into the town,
he
when
that
come
And
was

John,he goeth
and great love towards Dan
of him, but in
borrow
firstto him himself,not to ask or
money
order to know
and see as to his welfare,and to tell him of his
dealings,as friends do when they be met in company.
for great tenderness

Dan
And
How

John him maketh

he him

told

feast and

again

full

merry

cheer.

specially,

bought rightwell and graciously

he had

(Thanked be God) all whole his merchandise ;

Save that he must
wise
in all" manner
Maken
for his best :
a chevisance,^
as
And
then he should^ be in joy and rest.
I"an John answered, ** Certes I am
fain,*
That ye in health be comen
home
again :
And
if that I were
rich,as have I bliss,
Of twenty thousand
shields should ye not miss,
For ye so kindfely
this other day
Lentfe me gold, and as I can and
may,
I thankfe
and. by Saint Jame
j^ou, by God
But nathfe!ess I took it to our
Dame,
Your wife at home, the samfe
gold again

Upon
she knows

bench,

it well.

credit.
^^"^w"th
for
on

your

Agreement

borrowingmoney.

French

"

crowns.
6

Glad.

Took.

THE

Now
Our

SHIPMANS

481

7 ALE.

your leave,I may no longer dwell ;

abbot will out of this town
anon,
I must^
And in his company
gone.
Greet well our dame, mine owen
niec" tweet,
dear^ cousin, tillwe meet
And farewell,
!

by

"

This
and

full wary
and
wise,hath borrowed,
certain
Paris, to
Lombards, the gold he
got back his bond.

merchant, who
also

paid

borrowed, and

was

in

home
he go*th,as merry as a popinjay.
he stood in such array,
well he knew
he win in that voyie^
That need^s must
franks above all his costage. 1
A thousand
His wife full ready met him at the gate,
of old us^e algate:^
As she was
wont
And all that night in mirths they be set.

And
For

For he

The

merchant

out
rich,and clearly

was

said,

then
"

And

you,
wot

my

ye

"

a littlewroth
it
wife,although be me loth :'

By God," quoth he,

With

of debt.

why

by God,

am

as

that I guess.

Ye have ymade a manner

strangeness
and my cousin Dan John.
Betwixen
me
Ye should have warn^
me, ere I had gone.
frank^s paid
That he you had a hundred

By ready token
I hold

in speaking to
treated,
ungratefully

him

him

of borrowed

money.

(Me

seemed

so

by

as

his

countenance)

of heaven king,
I thoughts not to ask of him no thing.
I pray thee,wife,do thou no mord so.
Tell me
alway,ere that I from thee go.
If any debtor hath in my absence
But

nathfeless,
by God

Ypayfedthee,lest in thy negligence

might him ask a thingthat he hath paid.
This wife was
not afear^d ne afraid,
But boldelyshe said,and that anon
;
Mary ! I defy that falsfemonk Dan John ;
I

"

I know
monk's
because

certain gold. What

? Evil fall on this
me
I
God
believed
he
had given it me
snout
knows,
and my profit.
of you, to aid mine honour
he

gave
!

'

For

cousinage,and

That

he hath had

Costs.

eke for bellh chere,

full often timfes here.

Always.

"

Unpleasant.

482

CANTERBURY

TALES.

But sinci that I stand in this disjoint,

I will answ^
to the point:
you shortly

truth I have

by

my

on

waste.

spent it on

my

apparel,every bit,and

And for I have bestowed it so well

For your hon6ur, for Goddfes sake I say
As be not wroth,but let us laugh and play.

Forgive it me,

mine

own

dear husband.

other remedy :
This merchant
none
saw
And for to chiden,it n'as but foU^
be.
Sith that the thing may not amended
"
Now
wife,"he said," and I forgiveit thee ;
But by thylife ne be no more
so
large;
^
this
bet'
give I thee in charge.*'
Keep
my good ;
"

Better.

not

CONCLUDING
HAT
the

purity

and

of

has

been

'

of

best

the

In

raise

those

other.

of

accidental

him

the

nearly
writers

the

being,

Chaucer's

hearty

the

part

most

giving
that

our

merriment

likely

any

e^ibit
if he

Chaucer,

washed

and

thoughts
With

In

brief

upon

stuff

word,

ever

away

deeds
summary

that

their

but

defiles

by

kindly

nor

of

his

he

pours

with
of

is

for

that

in

hardly

can

stuff"

dramatists
much

are

more

them

them,
for

it, is

than

whenever
evil
sure

to

they

evil
be

to

and

beautiful

in

with
sently
pre-

noble

forth.

poet's
M

and

In

it

perilous

The

passport

stream

the

we

owxTISehind
with

hand

the

af

up

vicious

century.

"

the

heart."

make

but

feelings,

company
from

goodness

is

any,

relief
the

genial

perilous

away.
to

weighs

his

how

labours

genial,

so

good

the'

comic

his

that

to

com

in

once

at

last

the

yield

in
of

at

brilliant

the

something

to

sense

neither

are

leave

to

appear

"

often

too

question
take

to

way

calculated

is

with

looking

in

stage

our

laugh

of

due

the

immoralities
"

aim

there

so

experiencing

avoid

and

end

then,

the

see

of

tastes

teachings

we

Chaucer,

selections.

and,

"

moral

ductions,
pro-

the

to

for

and

found
modes

somewhat

foregoing

respects

and

impurities

occupied

who

these

with

us

necessary

school,

Congreve

be

sumptuous
pre-

tale,

humorous

influence

his

of

to

the

stoop

the

the
that

licentious

his

upon
the

and

"

in

in

worst

height

extraneous

are
"

attract

the

to

the

and

whole,

the

at

appreciation

Compare

dramatists

but
to

tastes

and

prehension

as

order

in

himself

imposed
of making

task

did

he

one,

time

the

have

the

in

in

In
is

tales,
for

excuse

allowed

demand,

especially

conclusion.

bond,

eloquently

undertake

to

us

serious

and

and

but

works,

for

other
to

has

difficult

and

delicate

his

such

urging

it may

of

sense

marriage

the

touchingly

Tale,'

answer

which

and

of

of

holy,

say

self-sacrifices

too

parts

he

treatment

miglit

we

inviolability

various

his

in

poet's

the

and

shown

of

high,

duties

the

Franklin's

task
and

had

Chaucer

various

then,

REMARKS.

labours

we

now

conclude

TALES.

CANTERBURY

484

this volume.
Let us glance at what he did for his own
time,
and for remotest
and what for ours
posterity.
of the fourteenth century (a few book-\yorms
The men
only
consciousness
of
or
excepted)had lost nearly all remembrance
of philosophy and learningof the
the accumulated
treasures
ancients : Chaucer
broughtthose treasures back to them, so
and
porated
incorwith
so
amalgamated
precious giftsof his own,
into the national tongue, that they could never
ence
experia like fate.
it
What
Shakspere said the stage should be ^and made
his works ;" a mirror reflecting
Chaucer
had
previouslymade
the very image and body of the time" and with the same
object
as
might see their true image.
Shakspere, that vice and scorn
Froissart was
In consequence,
what
an
merely to chivalry,
unreal but brilliant institution of the hour, Chaucer
to the
was
entire life of England, with all its varietyof character and
tween
interests,and passions,and views. Beclass,all its conflicting
and the Clerk of Oxenford, and the
the Poo re Parson
Pardoner
and Sumpnour, what a gulf intervenes ; yet is it step
have often wondered
that
by step filled up and peopled. We
writers have paid so littleattention to the fourteenth
romance
such complete and
has left them
century, seeingthat Chaucer
abundant
materials.
If they want
to learn something of the
higher philosophyof the period,let them for instance look at
in the * Knight'sTale ' commencing
the long passage
"

The

or

at the Wife

Firsts Mover

of Bath's

of the

cause

above

of
description

"

tn(ie gentility.Look^

who
intendeth aye.
To do the gentledeed^s that he can.
And take kirn for the greatest gentleman.

absurdities philosophycould at
to what
to know
If they want
took at the accounts
time
them
the same
of the
descend, let
magical processes that make it appear
the rockfes be away,

Tale ; ' or of the processes of that " sliding

but the
science,"Alchemy, that has made not only the Yeoman
" bare."
also
If
master
Canon
they want to glance at the commercial
of Europe at the time,theywill get many a
peculiarities
and doings of the merchant in
useful hint from the movements
*
the Shipman's Tale.' The fragment called the 'Cook's Tale' will
London
lifethat shall make even Jan
give them an apprentice's
Vincent's seem
dull in comparison. The exquisite
and
pictures
in the

Franklin's

CONCLUDJNii
timfi

i^o"l;
less cf
oi ik
III,bO

incoricpen/ttiD^
3"ct

rural life in

4%

REMARKS,

in the story of the * Widow

and
her Two
Daughters,'who lost their Cock, will be found to
of detailed information that we
want
nothing in minuteness
could expect to derive from the pages of Miss Mitford. Lastly,
would
they replacewith real ones the conventional names, conventional
oaths, conventional stylesof compliment, that they
the impressionthey can
take such pains to fabricate under
ultimatelyproduce the ringof the true antiquemetal,they may
is a list of
do so at pleasure by referringto Chaucer.
Here
culled from
his works
for them
Absalon,
genuine names
of
descriptions

England

"

Simkin, John, Aleyn, Hodge, Roger, Jankin, Ralph, etc. Here

St Thomas, or
now
a listof oaths
:"
help us, St. Frideswide,"
for a knight ; St. Neot for a
for a carpenter ; " God
wot
in common
smith ; St. Cuthbert for a collegian
for
; St Eloy
and
Prioress
and
a
a tender
rough
ready carter ; Sweet
lady
Saint Anne, for the anything but a Sweet
Sumpnour;' whilst
"

'*

2^t.
an

the

3Qd
Bedie

tep
bat
ith

jid
it
at

"

"

for a feminine mouth

suddenly
"
find
!''"the nunnery
Holy Cross of Brom^holme
where
As to
the alarmed wife of a Miller has been educated.
conversation,Chaucer will tell you the whole process from the
address to a company
after dinner,when
of an
commencement
"
"
"
of
the
the
took
gentlemen " of the present
place
lordings
day, to the replywhere a compliment has been paid to a lady
*
sir."
Yea, God amend defaults,
But there were
important claims on the admiration
yet more
of
of the men
the fourteenth century.
Chaucer
and gratitude
not
was
only their restorer of learning,their great poet and
of the
teacher,their painterand historian in the highestsense
also their great religious
Reformer
the
words, but he was
could
who
down
build
Titan
at
and
with
once
pull
literary
up
them
despise and abhor
equal power and skill ; who made
to be found in the
fraud,and vice,even though it were
wrong,
mixed
with
and
the
tions,
most
up
highest places,
potentof institutime
the
their
at
love
and
without
same
rence
revelessening
for all that was
true, noble, and holy that those same
places or institutions might contain. And to say that Chaucer
reformer when
the church
had so mig;hty
a great religious
was
influence in temporal as well as in spiritual
an
matters, is to
social
and
also
We
he
reformer.
a
was
political
great
say
may
of his miscelbe excused for here giving a few lines from one
laneous
still more
writings that may
directlyprove the poet
from
his
and
positionin the court during so
was
a
patriot"
for

very

pretty exclamation

we
startled,

"

"

"

many

influentialone.
Let the reader rean
member
years, necessarily
the state of England during the reignof Richard
IL,
then ponder on the courage of him who could write thus in

and
the 'Ballad sent

to

King Richard.'

TALES.

CA^TERBURV

4B6

is hold^ fable,
Truth M put down, reason
Virtue hath now
no
domination,
is mercidble,
man
no
Pity is exiled,
covetise

Through
The

could

is blent

hath made

discretion,

permutation

rightto wrong, from truth to fickleness,

all is lost for lack of stedfastness ;

From
That

who

world

add,
Prince,desire to be honourable,
thy folk,and hate extortion,etc.

Cherish
and

could

all classes of men, that Truth, Virtue,

and
Love were
the only qualities
Manliness, Gentleness,
worthy
of respect ; high birth,fortune and success
being worthless in
who

impresson

comparison.
In a word, Chaucer
caccio
alone was
to England nearlyall that Bocand Frolssart,Petrarch
and Dante, were
to
Italy and
the neighbouring countries about the same
period.
And

aside
he has

stands

how
matters

of

done

for

the

case

merely
and

and
between
Chaucer
historical interest,
what

us

"

do

puttinj::
we

find

with

posterity? We

a
answer,
may
pardonable exaggeration" Everything ! He founded alike our
each act indeed being indispensable
language and our literature,
the
other.
From
the semi- barbarous
to
medley of Saxon and
Norman
French
that existed when
Chaucer
began to write, he
his profound learning and
selected whatever
perfectpoetical
best fitted for his purposes, and thus by
taste taught him were
his writings
fixed and defined at once
what had
and for ever
been previouslyin a state of continual fluxion and uncertainty.
did this,is
How
Chaucer
well,and therefore how completely,
evident when
his language with the
we
strikingly
compare
the
of
him
is
who
esteemed
most
language
mechanically-perfect
Tale'
of modem
English"authors. Thus in the * Merchant's
he makes January say,

us

Chaucer.
I be hoar,I fare as doth a tree
blossometh
be ;
the fruit ywaxen
ere
A blossomy tree is neither dry nor
dead,
hoar but on my head ;
I feel me
nowhere
Mine heart and all my limbos be as green
As laurel through the year is for to seen.

Though

That

Now

what

can

be done

to

improve

this

by

Pope?
Think

not

my

These reverend

tho* time has shed

virtue lost,
honours on my hoary head ;

REMARKS,

CONCLUDING

4"7

crown'd with blossoms white as

then
The vital sap
risingfrom below ;
Old as I am, my lusty
limbs appear
Like winter greens that flourish all the year.
Thus

Many
pages.

similar
And

we

trees

are

illustrations have
need

say

more

no

been
to show

anow,

already given
that

no

very

in

our

esse?iiial

we
see
improvement in language can have taken place,when
that a Dry den and a Pope suffer so frequentlyby the contrast
of their writingswith Chaucer's original.
And
in saying Chaucer
founded
our
language, we must hot
be involved in the
and may
are
forgetwhat mighty deductions
this is said
It is the English language of which
statement.
the
the language that if ever
one
tongue shall become
any
familiar property of the world, it must
be this 1
common
"

literature ; he left it
Chaucer
found his country without
a
rich in the possession of works, especially the * Canterbury
Tales,' that not only rival to this hour the greatest productions
of human
genius, but that have confessedfyinfluenced in a
illustrious
direct and powerful degree the minds
of his most
how
has
of
Chaucer's
told
he
drank
successors.
us
Spenser
"
"
well of English undefiled ;
Shakspere has not only delighted
individual character
from
to borrow
him, as in his * Merry
is a frank imitation of
the Host
indebted
him
to
greatly through one
Harry
entire play, the * Troilus and
Cressida ; ' while Milton
has
with
his
heartfelt
earnestness
charming poetical
expressed
desire
Wives

of

Windsor,'
BaiUy, but to

To

The

where

be

call up

him

who

left half told

story of Camb6scan

bold.

And, in conclusion,as the chief part of this literature,

we
think Chaucer
has a powerful claim to be regarded as the true
founder of our drama.
Its spiritat its best is his to this hour
:
the form alone was
for
and
that
the
times
lived
he
in
wanting
but the form of tragedy is wanting
not prepared. What
were
"

the exquisite'Pardoner's
what but the/^r/" of the
Tale?'
'
romantic
drama
is wanting to the
Knight's Tale ? '" what but
the form of comedy in its highest vein is wanting to the * Merchant's
to

"

Tale? '"or to the whole

body of characters that make
*
the
the
of
Prologue ? '"what but the form of farce
Pilgrims
up
*
is wanting to the
Miller's' or the 'Reve's
Tales?'
Are not
all these tales eminently, characteristically
dramatic ?" is there
a

singlequalityessential

to the

THE

Drama

END.

absent ?

LONDON:
WILLIAM

KIDBR

X4.

AMD

BAKTHOLOMBW

SON,

LIMITED,
CLOSE,

PRINTERS,
B.C.