Chaucer And His Times Part 7

and finally lying down in his father's lap, and kissing him, and dying.

The stern horror of Dante's story is too terrible to admit of pathos such as this. Chaucer's version is infinitely touching, but it has nothing in it that chills our blood as does the picture of the father, grown blind with hunger, groping over the dead bodies of his children till fasting gets the mastery of grief. He can depict innocent suffering, he can arouse our sympathy and stir our pity, but he never strikes the note of real tragedy. It is not only that no one of his many heroes and heroines experiences any tragic conflict of soul, but in the simple presentation of suffering Chaucer shows little of that power of grim suggestion, of appeal to the imagination, which are among the most essential characteristics of the tragic poet. Cressida's hesitation has nothing grand or tragic about it. She is simply uncertain which course will bring her most happiness.

And her repentance--if such it can be called--is no more than a momentary discomfort at the thought that she has caused Troilus pain and that unkind things are likely to be said of her. Troilus suffers, but, in Professor Bradley's phrase, it is suffering that merely befalls him, the whole tragedy is external, and his abandonment of pa.s.sion has none of the dignity and restraint of a great emotion. Oth.e.l.lo's cry of "Desdemona, Desdemona dead!" contains more poignancy of suffering than all the outbursts of Troilus put together. Constance, and Griselda, and Dorigen all know the meaning of sorrow, but their simple acceptance of their fate is pathetic rather than tragic, and in the cases of Constance and Griselda, as in the case of Count Hugo, the tragedy is further softened by the part played by the children. The monk's definition of tragedy--though it need not necessarily be Chaucer's own--sufficiently explains the medieval conception:--

Tragedie is to seyn a certeyn storie, As olde bokes maken us memorie, Of him that stood in greet prosperitee And is y-fallen out of heigh degree Into miserie, and endeth wrecchedly.

To Chaucer the interest lies in the study of normal men and women, and in comparing his narratives with their originals nothing is more striking than the air of homeliness and naturalness with which he contrives to invest the most amazing incidents. Dorigen and her husband strike one as simple, natural folk whose nice sense of honour leads them to keep their word though it were to their own hindrance. We hardly notice the absurdity of the situation itself, and are little troubled by the magic arts which enable her persecutor to remove all rocks from the coast of Brittany.

Constance is no tragedy-queen, but a true-hearted, simple woman; and the fact that she lives in a world of miracles never obtrudes itself. We accept her adventures without a qualm since our interest lies in her personality, and the odd thing is that her personality, attractive as it is, strikes one as so little out of the common. Writers of the day, as a rule, desired either to point a moral or to thrill their readers by sheer force of adventure. Chaucer took the accepted conventions of his day, and pierced through them to the human nature underneath.

CHAPTER IV

CHAUCER'S CHARACTER-DRAWING

Like every other young poet Chaucer had to learn his trade, and in nothing is the development of his genius more clearly to be traced than in his treatment of character. The _Book of the d.u.c.h.esse_ gives us a sort of map of the character of the good fair White: in his choice of qualities and method of expression Chaucer shows both observation and originality, but the plan of the poem precludes anything in the nature of dramatic self-revelation, and the whole description of Blanche is from the outside.

The _Parlement of Foules_ and the _Hous of Fame_ afford little scope for character-drawing, and though something more might be expected of the _Legend of Good Women_, as we have seen, the moral purpose which inspires it leads to perfunctory and undramatic treatment of the legends.

One only of Chaucer's earlier poems shows the true bent of his genius. The rough sketches which he afterwards worked up and used in the _Canterbury Tales_ had given some evidence of his keen interest in human nature, but not until we come to _Troilus and Criseyde_ do we find him giving full rein to his invention. The earlier part of Book I, which describes how Troilus first catches sight of Cressida in the temple and at once falls in love with her, is taken almost literally from Boccaccio, but the entrance of Pandarus strikes a new note. Troilus lies languishing in his chamber in the most approved manner, when Pandarus comes in and hearing him asks what is the matter:--

Han now thus sone Grekes maad yow lene?[71]

Or hastow som remors of conscience, And art now falle in som devocioun...?

Troilus replies that he is the "refus of every creature," and that love has overcome him and brought him to despair. Pandarus heaves a sigh of relief and says if that is all he will soon put matters right, for though he knows nothing of such foolishness himself, he can easily arrange the affair:--

A whetston is no kerving instrument, And yet it maketh sharpe kerving-tolis.[72]

Troilus still refuses to be comforted and only casts up his eyes and sighs, whereupon Pandarus grows annoyed as well as anxious:--

And cryde "a-wake" ful wonderly and sharpe; What? s...o...b..estow as in a lytargye?[73]

Or artow lyk an a.s.se to the harpe, That hereth soun, when men the strenges plye, But in his minde of that no melodye May sinken, him to glade, for that he So dul is of his b.e.s.t.i.a.litee?

Having at last succeeded in rousing the disconsolate lover and inducing him once more to take his part in the life of court and camp, Pandarus hurries off to interview his niece, whom he finds sitting with her maidens "with-inne a paved parlour" reading the geste of Thebes. The contrast between the shrewd, elderly man of the world and the love-sick youth has been admirably brought out in Book I; in Book II a different, but no less striking contrast is shown between the coa.r.s.e humour and practical wisdom of the uncle and the daintiness and charm of the niece. Pandarus angles for Cressida and plays her as a skilful fisherman plays a trout. It is obvious that he regards the whole thing as a good-natured grown-up regards a children's game. It is deadly earnest to them, and since they take it so seriously he will do his best to help them, but all the while he considers it a piece of pretty and amusing childishness, though he takes pleasure in playing it adroitly. His idea of effective appeal is to poke his niece "ever newe and newe" and his jests when he has succeeded in bringing the lovers together savour more of the camp than the court. When the tragedy occurs and Troilus and Cressida are parted for ever, Pandarus has no better comfort to offer than the plat.i.tude:--

That alwey freendes may nought been y-fere,[74]

and he evidently thinks that Troilus is making a most unnecessary fuss about it, though he is so sincerely distressed at Cressida's treachery that he offers--lightly enough--to "hate hir evermore":--

If I dide ought that mighte lyken thee, It is me leef;[75] and of this treson now, G.o.d woot, that it a sorwe is un-to me!

And dredeless, for hertes ese of yow,[76]

Right fayn wolde I amende it, wiste I how And fro this world, almighty G.o.d I preye Delivere hir sone; I can no-more seye.

At the same time he is a person of some energy and force. When Troilus rushes about his chamber beating his head against the wall,

And of his deeth roreth in compleyninge,

Pandarus shows some impatience of such weakness and bids him pull himself together and

... manly set the world on sixe and sevene; And if thou deye a martir, go to hevene.

Excellently sound advice.

Nowhere is attention ostentatiously called to him; we are never allowed to feel that he is being dragged in by way of comic relief; but his mere presence at once removes _Troilus and Criseyde_ from the category of conventional love-romances, and the very fact that we are left to discover his significance for ourselves, without comment or explanation shows Chaucer's confidence in his craftmanship.

But skilfully as Pandarus is drawn, the character of Cressida shows even greater subtlety of treatment. To the medieval mind faithlessness in love was the one unforgivable crime. Nearly a hundred years after Chaucer wrote his _Troilus and Criseyde_, Sir Thomas Malory tells us of Guenever, "she was a good lover and therefore she made a good end," and again and again in the medieval romances proper we find the same thought insisted on. Chaucer had therefore no light task before him when he set out to draw a heroine at once lovable and fickle, and to enlist the sympathies of his readers on behalf of one whose name had become a by-word for faithlessness in love. With consummate skill he insists from the outset on her gentleness and timidity. When Pandarus declares that the deaths both of Troilus and himself will lie at her door if she turns a deaf ear to his pleading, Cressida is simple enough to believe that he means it, and

... wel neigh starf for fere,[77]

So as she was the ferfulleste wight[78]

That might be....

That she is no vulgar coquette is shown by her ignorance of Troilus's pa.s.sion. Apparently he spends his whole time in the temple gazing at her, but there is no mistaking the sincerity of her unselfconsciousness and surprise when Pandarus tells her of her lover's plight. Nor is she at first altogether pleased at having one of the handsomest and bravest of Priam's sons at her feet; indeed Chaucer is at some pains to explain that she does not suffer herself to be lightly won:--

For I sey nought that she so sodeynly Yaf him hir love, but that she gan enclyne To lyk him first, and I have told you why; And after that, his manhood and his pyne[79]

Made love with-inne hir for to myne,[80]

For which, by process and by good servyse He gat hir love, and in no sodyn wyse.

Altogether we get the impression of a simple, child-like being who wanders happily about her garden with Flexippe and Tharbe and Antigone "and othere of hir wommen," or sits poring over tales of chivalry, without a thought of marriage. She is woman enough to feel the force of Pandarus's hint that it is folly to live

... alle proude Til crowes feet be growe under your ye,

and to like the thought that the hero who rides blushing through the cheering crowd

... is he Which that myn uncle swereth he most be deed But I on him have mercy and pitee,

but she is no Delilah spreading her snares for men. Her uncle, the only person whom she has to advise her, urges her to listen to Troilus; the prince himself has everything likely to attract a girl's fancy; and as she sagely remarks:--

I knowe also, and alday here and see Men loven wommen al this toun aboute; Be they the wers? why nay, with-outen doubte.

No wonder she finally yields to her lover's pa.s.sionate wooing when Pandarus tricks her into coming to see him:--

"But nathelees, this warne I yow," quod she, "A kinges sone although ye be, y-wis, Ye shul na-more have soverainetee Of me in love, than right that cas is; Ne I nil forbere, if that ye doon a-mis, To wrathen[81] yow; and whyl that ye me serve Cherycen[82] yow right after ye deserve.

And shortly, dere herte and al my knight, Beth glad, and draweth yow to l.u.s.tinisse, And I shal trewely, with al my might, Your bittre tornen al into swetnesse; If I be she that may yow do gladnesse, For every wo ye shal recovre a blisse; And him in armes took, and gan him kisse."

There is no prettier confession of love in all literature. Then follows their brief period of rapture, with its mock quarrels and speedy reconciliations, before the dreadful day when Calkas sends for his daughter. The news that Cressida is to be delivered up to the Greeks fills the lovers with despair. Troilus flings himself on his bed railing against Fortune and abusing Calkas as an

... olde unholsom and mislyved man:

Cressida with tears prepares for her journey. One of the most delightful pictures in the whole story is that of the worthy women who came to bid her farewell and take her tears as a delicate compliment to themselves:--

And thilke foles sittinge hir aboute Wenden that she wepte and syked[83] sore By-cause that she sholde out of that route Depart, and never pleye with hem more.

And they that hadde y-knowen hir of yore Seye hir so wepe, and thoughte it kindenesse, And eche of hem wepte eek for hir distresse.

Her sorrow is sincere, and her tears do not cease to flow when Troilus is out of sight. Shakespeare's Cressid, whose one idea is to ingratiate herself with her new friends, is a very different person from Chaucer's woebegone heroine. And yet in her very sorrow we see her weakness. When Pandarus first tried to move her pity she had yielded, not solely out of compa.s.sion but also because she was afraid of what might be said of her if any harm came to Troilus:--

And if this man slee here himself, allas!

In my presence, it wol be no solas.