Chaucer And His Times Part 3

A number of experiments in verse follow. Chaucer had a habit of rough-casting a poem, then leaving it for some time, and eventually using it in a more or less modified form in some later work. The story of _Ceys and Alcioun_, which forms part of the introduction to the _Book of the d.u.c.h.esse_, originally appears to have been written as a separate poem, and between 1369 and 1379 we find no fewer than seven works, in prose and poetry, which were afterwards embodied in the _Canterbury Tales_: the _Lyf of St. Cecyle_ (afterwards used for the _Second Nonnes Tale_); parts of the _Monkes Tale_; the greater part of the _Clerkes Tale_; _Palamon and Arcite_ (which forms the basis of the _Knightes Tale_); the _Tale of Melibeus_; the _Persones Tale_; and the _Man of Lawe's Tale_. In addition to these come the _Compleint to his Lady_; _An Amorous Compleint_; _Womanly n.o.blesse_; _Compleint unto Pite_; _Anelida and Arcite_ (containing ten stanzas from Palamon); _Of the Wretched Engendring of Mankind_ (a prose translation of Innocent III's _De Miseria Humanae Conditionis_, of which the t.i.tle alone remains, though fragments of it are used in the _Man of Lawe's Tale_); a translation of Boethius's _Consolations of Philosophy_; the _Complaint of Mars_; _Troilus and Criseyde_; _Wordes to Adam Scriveyn_; _The Former Age_; _Fortune_. Apart from _Troilus and Criseyde_ and the poems afterwards used in the _Canterbury Tales_, none of these works are of any great importance in themselves, but in them we see a steady development in technical skill.

The verse of the _Book of the d.u.c.h.esse_ is easy and flowing but not distinguished. The _Compleint unto Pite_ shows a freedom and boldness in the use of the French seven-lined stanza which marks a new departure in English versification. Chaucer tries his hand at roundels and balades, at narrative poetry and love laments, and the result is that he attains a suppleness and melody unknown to his predecessors and unfortunately ignored by his immediate successors. The music of his verse is not the least of his contributions to a literature, whose exponents could placidly remark

And trouthe of metre I sette also a-syde; For of that art I hadde as tho no guyde Me to reduce when I went a-wronge: I toke none hede nouther of shorte nor longe.

Lydgate did not begin to write until after Chaucer's death, but the lines quoted above from the _Troy Book_ exactly express the point of view of the majority of fourteenth- and fifteenth-century poets.

In 1372, as we have seen, Chaucer went to Italy, and the influence of Italian poetry upon him can hardly be exaggerated. Professor Ten Brink believes that the influence of Dante was largely responsible for a sudden quickening and deepening of religious feeling in Chaucer, and he attributes the A.B.C., the _Lyf of St. Cecyle_, and the translation of the _De Miseria Humanae Conditionis_ to this period. Whether he is right or wrong in this respect (and Professor Skeat dates both the A.B.C. and the _Lyf of St. Cecyle_ before the Italian journey) there can be no question as to Chaucer's profound admiration for the author of the _Divina Commedia_. The _Inuocacio ad Mariam_ which prefaces the _Second Nonnes Tale_ is drawn from the concluding canto of the _Paradiso_, the most striking of all the Monk's tales

Of him that stood in greet prosperitee And is y-fallen out of heigh degree Into miserie, and endeth wrecchedly,

is that of Count Hugo of Pisa, which is drawn direct from Canto x.x.xIII of the _Inferno_, and it is impossible not to feel that the intense reverence for things holy which underlay all Chaucer's shrewdness and humour, may have been due--at least in part--to the influence of one of the greatest of all religious poets. Of Petrarch he speaks with admiration in the preface to the tale which he borrows from him, but except for a translation of the eighty-eighth sonnet which is inserted in Book I of _Troilus and Criseyde_, under the heading _Cantus Troili_, there is little evidence of any direct influence. From Boccaccio he borrowed freely, with a royal bettering in the borrowing. _Troilus and Criseyde_ is taken bodily from the _Filostrato_, though with numerous additions, omissions, alterations, and adaptations: the _Knightes Tale_ is condensed from the twelve books of the _Teseide_: the idea of the _Canterbury Tales_ is taken from that of the _Decamerone_, though with the very significant difference that whereas Boccaccio's story-tellers are all drawn from one cla.s.s and are shut off from intercourse with the outer world, Chaucer's range from knight to miller, from aristocratic prioress to bourgeois wife of Bath, and the fact of their being on a pilgrimage affords opportunity for incident on the way and for the introduction of fresh characters, thus giving scope for far greater variety and keeping far more closely in touch with actual life.

Between 1377 and 1382 he translated Boethius's _De Consolatione Philosophiae_, a work which evidently produced a deep impression upon him.

In 1382 Chaucer produced another topical poem. So far he had addressed himself to John of Gaunt--for whom not only the _Book of the d.u.c.h.esse_, but the scandalous _Compleint of Mars_ is said to have been written; now he addresses King Richard, and after the fashion of the day clothes in allegorical compliment the story of his wooing of Anne of Bohemia, who had twice before been engaged to other suitors. The wedding festivities lasted over February 14, when St. Valentine marries every year,

The lyric lark, and the grave whispering dove, The sparrow that neglects his life for love, The household bird with the red stomacher;

and the opportunity was too good a one to be lost. Chaucer saluted his king and queen in the _Parlement of Foules_, which though partially based on the fabliau of _Hucline and Eglantine_ and containing pa.s.sages from Dante and Boccaccio, is in all essentials a thoroughly original work. The poet, as usual, falls asleep and has a dream. He is taken by Scipio Africa.n.u.s (he had just been reading the _Somnium Scipionis_), to the gate of a park which he is told none but the servants of Love may enter.

Although he himself is but dull and has lost the taste of love he is permitted to see what pa.s.ses in order that he may describe it, and is led into a beautiful garden in which many fair ladies, such as Beautee and Jolyte, are disporting themselves under the eye of Cupid. A number of women are dancing round a temple of bra.s.s, before whose door

Dame Pees sat with a curteyn in hir hond.

A long description of the temple and its occupants (Venus, Bacchus, Ceres, etc.) follows, and the poet then pa.s.ses once more into the open air where

... in a launde[38] upon a hille of floures

he finds the "n.o.ble G.o.ddesse Nature," who has sent for every bird to come and choose its mate in honour of St. Valentine. Upon her hand she holds

A formel[39] egle, of shap the gentileste[40]

That ever she among hir werkes fonde.

Nature calls upon the royal eagle to make first choice, and he,

With hed enclyned and with ful humble chere,

at once chooses the bird upon her hand. Before the formel eagle has summoned up sufficient courage to give her answer,

Another tercel egle spak anoon, Of lower kinde, and seyde, "that shal not be; I love hir bet than ye do, by seynt John."

And hardly has he finished when a third eagle puts forward his claim. The various birds are called upon for their advice, and after a great deal of chattering and confusion, Nature finally decrees that the choice is to lie with the formel eagle herself. She modestly begs for a year's respite in which to make up her mind, and the parliament is adjourned.

But first were chosen foules for to singe As yeer by yere was always hir usaunce To singe a roundel at hir departinge To do Nature honour and pleasunce,

and the whole ends with the charming roundel:--

Now welcom somer with thy sonne softe.

The poem has a freshness and tenderness which its conventional setting cannot conceal, and the humour of the conversation among the worm-foul, water-foul, and seed-foul, must have been even more delightful than it is to-day if--as has been suggested--the "fool cukkow," "the waker goos,"

"the popinjay, ful of delicacy," and the rest were easily recognisable portraits of contemporary courtiers.

The _Parlement of Foules_ was followed by the _Hous of Fame_. Here again Chaucer makes use of the conventional stock-in-trade of medieval poets.

We have the dream, the strings of proper names drawn from Ovid and Virgil and the Bible, the constant moralisations, the temple to which the dreamer is guided, the use of allegory and symbol, all of which are common property. The influence of Dante is evident, and shows itself in detail as well as in the conception of the whole. The method of beginning each book with an invocation, the exact marking of the date on which the poem was begun, the steep rock, the description of the house of Rumour, and numerous other points are borrowed direct from the _Divina Commedia_, while there is no need to emphasise the obvious resemblance between the general plan of Dante's great poem and the _Hous of Fame_. Professor Skeat even goes so far as to suggest that Lydgate is referring to the _Hous of Fame_ when he speaks of a poem of Chaucer's as "Dant in English."

The poem is divided into three books. Book I opens with a discussion of dreams in general, what causes them and what weight should be attached to them:--

Why that is an avisioun And this a revelacioun.

This is followed by an invocation to the G.o.d of sleep, and then comes the vision itself. The poet falls asleep on the tenth day of December, and dreams that he is in a temple of gla.s.s. On a tablet on the wall is engraved the history of "daun Eneas," and its recital occupies almost the whole of the book. When the poet has "seyen al this sighte" he pa.s.ses out of the temple and finds himself in a desert place:--

Withouten toun, or hous, or tree Or bush, or gras, or cred[41] lond.

Ne I no maner creature That is y-formed by nature Ne saw.

Terrified by the strangeness and loneliness of the place, he casts his eyes towards heaven, praying to be saved,

Fro fantom and illusion,

and as he looks upwards he becomes aware of a wonderful eagle with feathers of gold, flying towards him. Book II opens with further remarks on dreams, and a declaration that no one, not even Isaiah or Scipio or Nebuchadnezzar, ever had such a dream as this. The story then continues.

The eagle swoops down upon the poet and catches him up in "his grimme pawes stronge,"--

Me caryinge in his clawes starke As lightly as I were a larke.

Dazed and astonished, Chaucer almost loses consciousness, till he is recalled to life by the eagle, with "mannes voice," bidding him

... Awak And be not so a-gast for shame!

and adding in a well-meant attempt to cheer him up,--

... Seynte Marie!

Thou art noyous for to carie.[42]

He is then told that as a reward for his long and faithful service of Cupid--

Withoute guerdon ever yit,

Jove has decreed that he is to be taken to the House of Fame:--

To do thee som disport and game, In som recompensacioun Of labour and devocioun.

In Fame's palace he will hear more wonders in two hours than there are grains of corn in a granary, for every sound made upon earth,--

Thogh hit were pyped of a mouse,

rises up there, multiplied and increased. Having concluded a learned disquisition on the properties of air, water, and sound--which he explains, he has kindly simplified in order to bring it within the grasp of a "lewed[43] man"--the eagle bears the poet through the stars and past all manner of "eyrish bestes" until they reach the House of Fame. Here Chaucer is set upon his feet--much to his relief--and is told to enter; he is further warned that every sound which rises from earth may be not only heard but seen, since it takes the form of whatever made it. Book III opens with an invocation to Apollo. The poet then climbs the steep rock of ice on which the palace stands, noticing as he pa.s.ses the names of famous men cut in the ice and rapidly thawing away in the sun. At the summit is a wonderful castle of beryl stone, and all round it crowd