English Literature for Boys and Girls Part 19

"But rich he was in holy thought and work, He was also a learned man, a clerk That Christ's gospel truly would preach, His paris.h.i.+oners devoutly would he teach; Benign he was and wonder diligent, And in adversity full patient.

Wide was his parish, and houses far asunder, But he left naught for rain nor thunder In sickness nor in mischief to visit The farthest of his parish, great or lite*

Upon his feet, and in his hand a staff.

The n.o.ble ensample to his sheep he gave, That first he wrought, and afterward he taught."

*Little.

There was no better parson anywhere. He taught his people to walk in Christ's way. But first he followed it himself.

Chaucer gives this good man a brother who is a plowman.

"A true worker and a good was he, Living in peace and perfect charity."

He could dig, and he could thresh, and everything to which he put his hand he did with a will.

Besides all the other religious folk there were a prioress and a nun. In those days the convents were the only schools for fine ladies, and the prioress perhaps spent her days teaching them.

Chaucer makes her very prim and precise.

"At meat well taught was she withal, She let no morsel from her lips fall, Nor wet her fingers in her sauce deep.

Well could she carry a morsel, and well keep That no drop might fall upon her breast.*

In courtesy was set full mickle her lest.**

Her over lip wiped she so clean, That in her cup there was no morsel seen Of grease, when she drunken had her draught."

*It should be remembered that in those days forks were unknown, and people used their fingers.

**Pleasure.

And she was so tender hearted! She would cry if she saw a mouse caught in a trap, and she fed her little dog on the best of everything. In her dress she was very dainty and particular.

And yet with all her fine ways we feel that she was no true lady, and that ever so gently Chaucer is making fun of her.

Besides the prioress and the nun there was only one other woman in the company. This was the vulgar, bouncing Wife of Bath. She dressed in rich and gaudy clothes, she liked to go about to see and be seen and have a good time. She had been married five times, and though she was getting old and rather deaf, she was quite ready to marry again, if the husband she had should die before her.

Chaucer describes nearly every one in the company, and last of all he pictures for us the host of the Tabard Inn.

"A seemly man our host was withal For to have been a marshal in a hall.

A large man he was with eyen stepe,*

A fairer burgesse was there none in Chepe,**

Bold was his speech, and wise and well y-taught, And of manhood him lacked right naught, Eke thereto he was right a merry man."

*Bright.

**Cheapside, a street in London.

The host's name was Harry Baily, a big man and jolly fellow who dearly loved a joke. After supper was over he spoke to all the company gathered there. He told them how glad he was to see them, and that he had not had so merry a company that year. Then he told them that he had thought of something to amuse them on the long way to Canterbury. It was this:--

"That each of you to shorten of your way In this voyage shall tell tales tway*-- To Canterbury-ward I mean it so, And homeward ye shall tellen other two;-- Of adventures which whilom have befallen.

And which of you the beareth you best of all, That is to say, that telleth in this case Tales of best sentence, and most solace, Shall have a supper at all our cost, Here in this place, sitting at this post, When that we come again fro Canterbury.

And for to make you the more merry I will myself gladly with you ride, Right at mine own cost, and be your guide."

*Twain.

To this every one willingly agreed, and next morning they waked very early and set off. And having ridden a little way they cast lots as to who should tell the first tale. The lot fell upon the knight, who accordingly began.

All that I have told you so far forms the first part of the book and is called the prologue, which means really "before word" or explanation. It is perhaps the most interesting part of the book, for it is entirely Chaucer's own and it is truly English.

It is said that Chaucer borrowed the form of his famous tales from a book called The Decameron, written by an Italian poet named Boccaccio. Decameron comes from two Greek words deka, ten, and hemera, a day, the book being so called because the stories in it were supposed to be told in ten days. During a time of plague in Florence seven ladies and three gentlemen fled and took refuge in a house surrounded by a garden far from the town.

There they remained for ten days, and to amuse themselves each told a tale every day, so that there are a hundred tales in all in The Decameron.

It is very likely that in one of his journeys to Italy Chaucer saw this book. Perhaps he even met Boccaccio, and it is more than likely that he met Petrarch, another great Italian poet who also retold one of the tales of The Decameron. Several of the tales which Chaucer makes his people tell are founded on these tales. Indeed, nearly all his poems are founded on old French, Italian, or Latin tales. But although Chaucer takes his material from others, he tells the stories in his own way, and so makes them his own; and he never wrote anything more truly English in spirit than the prologue to the Canterbury Tales.

Some of these stories you will like to read, but others are too coa.r.s.e and rude to give you any pleasure. Even the roughness of these tales, however, helps us to picture the England of those far-off days. We see from them how hard and rough the life must have been when people found humor and fun in jokes in which we can feel only disgust.

But even in Chaucer's day there were those who found such stories coa.r.s.e. "Precious fold," Chaucer calls them. He himself perhaps did not care for them, indeed he explains in the tales why he tells them. Here is a company of common, everyday people, he said, and if I am to make you see these people, if they are to be living and real to you, I must make them act and speak as such common people would act and speak. They are churls, and they must speak like churls and not like fine folk, and if you don't like the tale, turn over the leaf and choose another.

"What should I more say but this miller He would his words for no man forbear, But told his churls tale in his manner.

Me thinketh that I shall rehea.r.s.e it here; And therefore every gently wight I pray, For G.o.ddes love deem not that I say Of evil intent, but for I might rehea.r.s.e Their tales all, be they better or worse, Or else falsen some of my matter: And therefore, who so listeth it not to hear, Turn over the leaf and choose another tale; For he shall find enow, both great and small, In storial thing that toucheth gentlesse, And eke morality and holiness,-- Blame not me if that ye choose amiss.

This miller is a churl ye know well, So was the Reeve, and many more, And wickedness they tolden both two.

Advise you, put me out of blame; And eke men shall not make earnest of game."

If Chaucer had written all the tales that he meant to write, there would have been one hundred and twenty-four in all. But the poet died long before his work was done, and as it is there are only twenty-four. Two of these are not finished; one, indeed, is only begun. Thus, you see, many of the pilgrims tell no story at all, and we do not know who got the prize, nor do we hear anything of the grand supper at the end of the journey.

Chaucer is the first of our poets who had a perfect sense of sound. He delights us not only with his stories, but with the beauty of the words he uses. We lose a great deal of that beauty when his poetry is put into modern English, as are all the quotations which I have given you. It is only when we can read the poems in the quaint English of Chaucer's time that we can see truly how fine it is. So, although you may begin to love Chaucer now, you must look forward to a time when you will be able to read his stories as he wrote them. Then you will love them much more.

Chaucer wrote many other books beside the Canterbury Tales, although not so many as was at one time thought. But the Canterbury Tales are the most famous, and I will not trouble you with the names even of the others. But when the grown-up time comes, I hope that you will want to read some of his other books as well as the Canterbury Tales.

And now, just to end this long chapter, I will give you a little poem by Chaucer, written as he wrote it, with modern English words underneath so that you may see the difference.

This poem was written when Chaucer was very poor. It was sent to King Henry IV, who had just taken the throne from Richard II.

Henry's answer was a pension of twenty marks, so that once more Chaucer lived in comfort. He died, however, a year later.

THE COMPLAYNT OF CHAUCER TO HYS PURSE

To yow my purse, and to noon other wight To you my purse, and to no other wight Complayne I, for ye by my lady dere; Complain I, for ye be my lady dear; I am so sorry now that ye been lyght, I am so sorry now that ye be light, For certes, but yf ye make me hevy chere For certainly, but if ye make me heavy cheer Me were as leef be layde upon my bere; I would as soon be laid upon my bier; For which unto your mercy thus I crye, For which unto your mercy thus I cry, Beeth hevy ageyne, or elles mote I dye.

Be heavy again, or else must I die.

Now voucheth-sauf this day or hyt by nyght Now vouchsafe this day before it be night That I of you the blisful sovne may here, That I of you the blissful sound may hear, Or see your colour lyke the sonne bryght, Or see your colour like the sun bright, That of yelownesse hadde neuer pere.

That of yellowness had never peer.

Ye be my lyfe, ye be myn hertys stere, Ye be my life, ye be my heart's guide, Quene of comfort, and of good companye, Queen of comfort, and of good company, Beth heuy ageyne, or elles moote I dye.

Be heavy again, or else must I die.

Now purse that ben to me my lyves lyght Now purse that art to me my life's light And saveour as down in this worlde here, And saviour as down in this world here, Oute of this tovne helpe me thrugh your myght, Out of this town help me through your might, Syn that ye wole nat bene my tresorere, Since that ye will not be my treasurer, For I am shave as nye as is a ffrere; For I am shaven as close as is a friar; But yet I pray vnto your curtesye, But yet I pray unto your courtesy, Bethe hevy agen or elles moote I dye.

Be heavy again or else must I die.

L'ENVOY* DE CHAUCER

O conquerour of Brutes albyon, O conqueror of Brutus' Albion Whiche that by lygne and free leccion Who that by line and free election Been verray kynge, this song to yow I sende; Art very king, this song to you I send; And ye that mowen alle myn harme amende, And ye that art able all my harm amend, Haue mynde vpon my supplicacion.

Have mind upon my supplication.

*This is from a French word, meaning "to send," and is still often used for the last verse of a poem. It is, as it were, a "sending off."