The person charging this material is re- 
 sponsible for its return to the library from 
 which it was withdrawn on or before the 
 Latest Date stamped below. 
 
 Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books 
 are reasons for disciplinary action and may 
 result in dismissal from the University. 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 
 BUILDING lIJSEONLY 
 
 Submitted in Pari 
 
 L161 — 0-1096 
 
 IN ENGLISH 
 
 IN 
 
 THE GRADUATE SCHOOL 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 
 for the 
 
 1921 
 
CHAUCER S PLOTS 
 
 BY 
 
 ADAH ELIZABETH MILLIGAN 
 A. B. Monmouth College, 1914 
 
 THESIS 
 
 Submitted in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the 
 
 Degree of 
 
 MASTER OF ARTS 
 
 IN ENGLISH 
 
 IN 
 
 THE GRADUATE SCHOOL 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 
 1921 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
\S i-\ 
 
 NK S ' 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 
 THE GRADUATE SCHOOL 
 
 Apri l 22 192-1. 
 
 I HEREBY RECOMMEND THAT THE THESIS PREPARED UNDER MY 
 
 SUPERVISION Ry ADAH ELIZAB E TH MILLIGAN 
 
 ENTITLED CHAUCER'S PLOTS 
 
 BE ACCEPTED AS FULFILLING THIS PART OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR 
 
 THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS Ift E NGL ISH 
 
 Head of Department 
 
 Recommendation concurred in* * 
 
 Committee 
 
 on 
 
 Final Examination* 
 
 *Required for doctor’s degree but not for master’s 
 

 
 4 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2016 
 
 https://archive.org/details/chaucersplotsOOmill 
 
Introduction 
 
 Geoffrey Chaucer, one of the greatest story tellers in English 
 literature, \ms gradually and variously prepared for his literary 
 work. In his early years, England under the leadership of Edward III 
 was carrying on commercial vvars with Prance and under succeeding kings 
 continued the struggle for almost a century. The English people, in 
 spite of national hatreds enjoyed the courtly literature of contem- 
 porary irance. But as the foreign war continued, they "became increas- 
 ingly willing to lend an ear to stories of English life. And Chaucer 
 was the poet Capaole of entertaining them with tales of tnis kind. 
 
 His study of human nature "began in his childhood. He ms a page of 
 the daughter-in-law of Edward III and while associating with the nobil- 
 ity, he acquired a taste for depicting courtly life. In 1359 he was 
 taken prisoner in France "but was ransomed "by the King ana made a valet 
 of the royal chambers. Several years later, having been sent on dip- 
 lomatic missions abroad, Chaucer visited Italy. There he -was inspired 
 by Italian literature. But he did not settle down as a "poetic dream- 
 er‘ ; , IXvring twelve years, for example, he was engaged as a comptroller 
 of customs for London, coming thus in close touch with high and low, 
 Chaucer was afforded the broad and intimate knowledge of life which 
 makes his plots charming for all time. 
 
 In order to do justice to his plots it is impossible to consid- 
 er them apart from his living characters. We marvel at his fine dis- 
 crimination in borrowing from nis French, Italian, and English sources. 
 He srufts the order of details and rejects much material so that he 
 will be aole to picture the motives of the knight, the friar, or the 
 miller, Wxiom he has known. With the skill of an expert he selects in 
 
- 2 - 
 
 each casa what he needs to attain his realistic and dramatic purpose. 
 
 We a ay now take up the somces anh original material in Chaucer’s 
 plots to see how artful he is in securing unity, coherence, and pro- 
 portion. As we pass from his early vision poems, — tne "Book of the 
 Duchesse," the "Parlement of Foules", the "Hious of Fame , " ana the 
 "Legend of Good Women" to his longest poem, "Troilus and Cnseyde", and 
 then to representative types of mediaeval literature in the "Canter- 
 bury Tales", we snould be impressed with the steady and rapid develop- 
 ment of Cnaucer's surprisingly resourceful narrative art. 
 

 
 
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- 3 — 
 
 Chapter I 
 The Vision Poems 
 
 That Chaucer should adopt the fiction of a dream in the "Book 
 of the Duchesse", the "Par lement of Foulss", the "Sous of Fame", and 
 tx'-e prologue to the "Legend of Good Women" need not aere he explained; 
 for the dream ms a favorite literary device of his age as well as 
 the age preceding and tne one following. Neither does the fact that 
 he "borrowed without hesitation need any explanation; for the crime of 
 plagiarism was unknown in the Middle Ages; in truth, each author took 
 what he needed from others. What does interest us in our present dis- 
 cussion is how Chancer assimilates his "borrowed material to suit his 
 ^articular purpose. This consideration "brings us at once to the Old 
 French vision-poems. The following summaries ^ of a few representa- 
 tive types to which Chaucer frequently alludes will give us the usual 
 setting, guides, courts, goudesses, gods, and the purpose of the dream. 
 
 let us begin with "Le Roman de la Rose" of Guillaume de Lorris 
 and Jean de Meun, a poem vsnich directly or indirectly has had a very 
 great influence upon Chaucer and other writers of love visions. 
 
 It opens with a discourse on dreams. The author's belief in 
 dreams has been strengthened by Scipio's dream. While asleep in bed 
 one May night, the poet dreams that ne is wandering in a garden, on 
 the walls of which are painted ten hideous figures. He knocks at the 
 wicket. The gate is at once opened by Idleness, a beautiful damsel, 
 and aae leads him to the owner of tne garden. Mirth. In the aistance 
 
 (1) For these I have been greatly indebted to Professor Neilson's "The 
 Origins and Sourees of the Court of love", and Proiessor Sypherd's 
 "Studies in Chaucer's House of Fame." 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
- 4 - 
 
 the god of Love approaches with his companion. Beauty, ihu behind 
 the hero, C-apid with his good and bad quivers, follows. When the dream- 
 er is viewing the story of ITarcissus and admiring the rosebuds in a 
 fountain, he is wounded by Cupid's good darts. Thenceforth, he be- 
 comes a vassal of love. Immediately he has a great desire to possess 
 the particular rose-bud on which he has set his heart. After repeated 
 trials he is permitted to kiss the rose. Then reason approaches and 
 talks on the folly of love and the fickleness of Fortune. The dreamer, 
 naving listened to the miseries or the present, ana a tirade against 
 marriage is soon met by the goa of Love, who promises him assistance. 
 When the forces of Love have sworn fealty, Ifeture enters her workshop, 
 venus finally arrives to direct the attack on the tower where the 
 lover's friend is comined. At this point Jean ae Meun makes tne dis- 
 tinction between Venus as the goddess of sensual love, and her son as 
 the god of "l'amour au coeur. " 
 
 In Froissart's "Tkraays d'Anour" to which we may next turn the 
 poet invokes Morpheus, Juno, and Qleus to send him a messenger of sleep. 
 With the arrival of the messenger the poet falls asleep ana dreams of 
 a wood brightened with a flowery landscape and singing birds. Two 
 ladies, Plaisance and hsperance, approach the nero wno is almost a 
 despairing lover. Giving much imormation they conduct nim to the 
 pavilion of the god of Love. On their way they associate with Beau 
 Semblant, Doulo Regard, Franc vouloir, and otner huntsmen engaged in 
 "l'amoureuse chace". The god of Love greets the poet kindly, and 
 commands the guides now to lead him on through the wood, uy the side 
 of a stream they find Bel Acueil plaiting chaplets of flowers. The 
 

 
- 5 - 
 
 poat immediately kneels before his lady ana begs her to love him. She 
 permits him to kiss the chaplet ana then sne kisses it herself and 
 places it upon his head. In the midst of his joy he amices with thanks 
 to Morpheus through wnom all true lovers are comforted in sleep. 
 
 The relation of I.kchaut to the love-lorn prince of "I« Dit de 
 la Fontaine" and. the introduction there 01 the story of Ceyx and 
 Alcyone make tnat poem of significance for our stpdy. The poem begins 
 with the poet awakening at the sound of a sad voice. He writes down 
 the tender complaint that it carries. Among other things it includes 
 tne story of Ceyx and Alcyone. Soon hhcnant finds the singer and 
 learns that he is singing in obedience to his loro, whose advances 
 nave been unfavorable to his laay. Together the two seek the unhappy 
 lover ana f ina him a gentleman, handsome, amiaole, ana like the son of 
 a king; and then they go into a garden where there is a magnificent 
 xountain of crystal adorned with bas-reliefs representing tne stories 
 of Ikrcissus ana of the rape of Helen. Having neard the confidence of 
 the lover, the tnree fall asleep. Venus appears in a dream to tell 
 them tne story ox the Judgment of Paris and to promise her protection 
 to the young lora. To tne lover comes a gracious vision of his mis- 
 tress but it vanishes when ne awakens. The gentlemen go off on a long 
 journey. 
 
 The month and the function cf the god of Love are of interest 
 in "Bit du Yergier". It is April when the poet walks down the garden 
 path which leads to a beautiful orchard full of trees, flowers, and 
 singing birds. Lost in amorous reverie, the poet passes through the 
 orchard into a meadow, nsre he beholds a vision. Six damsels and 
 

 
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- 6 - 
 
 six youths are accompanying a creature of irarvelous figure whom they 
 honour as their sovereign and their god. This one eAplains to the poet 
 his power in making tne foolish wise ana the wise foolish, the poor 
 rich and so on. He declares his name, tells why he is olind, and re- 
 veals the use of his wings ana the use of nis arrows. The damsels 1 
 names are Grace, Pitie, Esperance, Souvenir, Franchise, and Atemper- 
 ance; tne youths' names, Valoir, Doux Fenser, Doux Plaisir, Loiant6, 
 Geler, and Desir; and the six adversaries', Dangier, Paour, Honte, 
 Durte, Cruantfe, and Doutance. Then in parting the god advises the poet 
 to oe loyal and secret in his love ana afraid of displeasing his lady. 
 
 In the next a few mors characters are added for Chaucer "be- 
 sides the idea that the poet attempts to hide himself under a thorn. 
 
 Hie poet is thinking of the glories of the spring season in the opening 
 of Deschamps' "Le lay Amourem". While he walks in the wood, he meets 
 a tall fellow who is Disdain hearing a cudgel. After a brief conver- 
 sation the poet passes into a "beautiful meadow where there is a spring, 
 a clear stream, and a tall pine tree. Under the latter many people 
 are praying to God to send grace to them, and his love to the world. 
 
 In the meantime, the poet slips under a thorn to hide and to watch. 
 
 When the famous lovers from history ana legend are leaving, th^ espy 
 the poet, "but instead of harming aim they tell the god of Love that he 
 is Eustache who ought to receive his favor. Then the poet awakes. 
 
 The allegorical material in Nicole de Ivlargival's "la Thnthere 
 d' Amours" furnishes hints for Chaucer which we shall later note. The 
 poet is taken away "by birds into a forest full of beasts. One beast 
 is of great beauty ana because of ner sweet breath all the dragons 
 follow uer about. There are aounas oi music. Approaching the post 
 

 
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 * 
 
- 7 - 
 
 is a great company dressed in costly garments and honoured by the pre- 
 sence of the god of Love. The latter salutes Nicole ana inquires who 
 he is ana who sent him. Then the poet recounts the things he has Just 
 seen in the forest. After listening courteously the god of Love pro- 
 fesses that Nicole should "become his vassal. The god of Love reproaches 
 the poet hut,, nevertheless,, he accompanies him to the valley where the 
 poet's laay dwells. Venus offers advice in winning the lady he sides 
 giving tij:ee companions, Esperance, Do us Penser, and Dous Souvenir to 
 lead him to the palace of Fortune, which is often the model of the scan- 
 sion in the "Anticlaudianua" of Alanus de Insulis, and the ’'Korean ie 
 la hose". It is on a hill of ice and is, moreover, half ruinous and 
 half gorgeous. At the gate blind Fortune sits to determine according to 
 her own caprice whether one is welcomed by Eur, who innao its the part 
 called "Prcsperite", or by ileseur, who rules the part called "Adversite". 
 
 At this moment tne goddess being angry sends Nicole to Meseur. later 
 through the influence of Grace and -oone volenti, he is transferred to 
 Eur's abode where his lady, "la douce panthere" is abiding. Even yet his 
 courage fails him and he has to he stpported by the ladies. At last the 
 panther yields to the wishes of her mother Piti6 ana accepts him. Then 
 the poet awakes. 
 
 In "la Fab lei Don Dieu d'Aaours" the bird's court furnishes another 
 suggestion for our English poet. The poet nas a vision that he is mik- 
 ing one bright May morning in a fair garden watered by a clear brook 
 and surrounded by a ditch besides a marvellous wall within which no 
 "vilain" is admitted. Under a tree he sits and listens to singing birds 
 until he almost thinks himself in paradise. The nightingale calls a- 
 bcut her the other birds to near complaints of the degeneration of Love. 
 

 
 
 
 
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 ♦ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 V. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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- 8 - 
 
 The hawk wishes to lay the blame on the "villaine gent”, but here tne 
 thrush objects to the hawk confining love to clerks ani knights. The 
 jay, too, is democratic, ana thinks that to love and be well loved is 
 to be as worthy ana wise as a clerk. To this the nightingale agrees 
 and dismisses the assembly. The lover left ieligntless has a second 
 vision. In the midst of his talk with his laay a dragon carries her 
 off. Soon after he has allowed himself to declare the folly of serv- 
 ing the god of Love, he is approached by the god of Love who promises 
 him aid and proceeds to carry the poet to his palace, "Champ Fleur i", 
 supported by pillars representing months. A girl snows the poet the 
 glories of the mansion an:, later the sights in the meadow beyond the 
 mansion. On tneir return to the god's abode, they fine, the goa just 
 arrived with the aero's laay. The hero awakes and finds it but a 
 dream. 
 
 Another court scene of the birds we have in "la Meese des 
 Oisiana et le Plais des Chanonesses et des Grises Nonains", of Jean de 
 Cond6. The meadows are beautiful with flowers and clear brooks in the 
 month of May. The author dreams that just before dawn he is sitting 
 under a pine in a beautiful forest and is listening to birds singing. 
 Messengers come from the goddess of Love to announce her approach and 
 to call on all the eirus to prepare a welcome. Boon a gorgeous throne 
 is set up. Upon this venus takes ner seat to dispense justice and re- 
 ceive adoration. The complaints are postponed until she has dined. 
 
 The nightingale sings mass and the parrot gives a sermon on the four 
 virtues of lovers, namely. Obedience, Patience, Loyalty, and Hope. After 
 the banquet those who have suits come before the goddess. A company of 
 canonesses present a complaint against the gray nuns for stealing a- 
 
- 10 - 
 
 way tneir lovers. Venus xinally sees fit to give the uecision in 
 favor of the nuns. They all accept the veruict without a comment. 
 
 The "Judgment of the King of bohemia" furnishes suggestions for 
 Chaucer's lovers as we shall later indicate. One spring morning the 
 poet wanders out into a park iillea with "beautiful trees ana bright 
 blossoms. Seating himself by a brook overshadowed by a tower, he lis- 
 tens to the singing birds in the trees that conceal him. Soon a lady 
 with a maid and a little dog goes past. She meets a knight but passes 
 on without returning his greeting. He overtakes her and again greets 
 ner. Tn«n she apologizes for her inattention which her ae9p tnots have 
 occasioned. The knight begs her to tell him the cause of ner pensive 
 mooa. Perhaps he can comiort ner, for he, too, has been having bitter 
 grief . Agiceing to exchange com idences tney proceed to relate their 
 sorrows. The lany has lost her husband by deatn; the knight has found 
 nis laay inconstant. Tne dispute arises over who has tne greater loss. 
 Tne concealed poet tnen reveals himself and suggests tnat they submit 
 the question to the King of Bohemia. Tney noth consent to this. The 
 king decides, at last, in fatJor ox tne knight. 
 
 Tne stories sketened aDOve illustrate several general cna.iacter- 
 istics of tne love vision poems, me poet may be expected to fall a - 
 sleep ana dream tnat he is in a flowery meadow, a beautiful wood, or 
 some strange country with singing birds making glad the May morning. 
 Wandering about in tnis setting he is soon met by a guide who is a 
 lady, a nan, a bird, or a beast. Then he is led to a court surround- 
 ed by trees, streams, and fountains. The walls of the court or temple 
 are painted with stories of love, history, and mythology. Grouped 
 within and without the hall are courtiers. Danger, Shame, Pity, Delight, 
 Hope, Envy, Despair, and Lust. Cupid with his arrows meets the lover 
 
- 10 - 
 
 and shoots his darts. Venus and Fortune seated on their thrones have 
 
 e T ' Tx ^> 
 
 their usual functions of administrating aid and condemnation respective- 
 ly. The god of Love interviews the hero reproaching or praising him 
 for nis service. And so throughout the poems the individuality of no 
 one stands cut; for the dream is just a mere device to get the reader 
 into a sort of fairyland, peopled by personified abstractions — Hope, 
 Mercy, Desire, Jealousy, and Despair — or by typical lovers scarcely 
 more concrete than the abstractions themselves. To proauce the 
 actual phenomena there ms no attempt, but yet, the atmosphere of un- 
 reality in a strange country, no doubt, appealed to our forefathers 
 as a welcome relief from the "tumult and ugliness of everyday life." 
 
 Chaucer in his delightful versions of the love vision blends 
 reality with these conventional situations. Ihking a suggestion here 
 ana theie from these poems and skilfully applying a situation of his 
 own day, he produces a haunting charm not to be found in the French 
 vision-poems. In our present discussion we shall be especially in- 
 terested in the abundance of life and the movement which Chaucer has 
 brought within the framework of his stories, how he has modified, re- 
 trenched or elaborated the conventional outline bringing into prominence 
 what will contribute to the desired impression, and rejecting whatever 
 will weaken. 
 
 The "Book of the Duchesse," Chaucer's first vision poem, in 
 point of constructive art, differs from his predecessors' in teat the 
 conventional situation — a dream, a paradise of trees, flowers, biras, 
 a lamenting lover, and an incomparable lady— is applied to a personal 
 elegy. To the conventional setting and personages Chaucer gives a 
 reality not found in the above mentioned French vision-poems. Here, 
 
- 11 - 
 
 Chaucer wishing to honor Blanche, the wife of Joun of Gaunt, detach- 
 es himself By a skilful use of tne familiar conventions so that instead 
 of praising ner himself he nas the Black knight, her husband, recount 
 her praise. The Black knight Being her social equal and ner companion 
 is the one who can speak without constraint. 
 
 The theme of the poem — the Bitter grief of the despairing hus- 
 Band who has lost the love of his youth and can think of nothing But 
 her gracious perfections — is suggested in the proem and is cleverly 
 developed step By step from nere to the end of the poem. There are 
 two contrasted characters selected to make the plan of the story 
 possiBle. The dreamer is a man with a child's understanding and a 
 gentle sympathy. He understands nothing, not even the cause of his 
 sleeplessness nor his dream. ^Child-like he never reasons But feels 
 and gets impressions". He is touched By Alcyone's vow that she will 
 eat no oread* By the little puppy's fawning on him, and by the lone 
 knight's laments. The other character, the knight, is an adept in 
 courtly conventions. 
 
 Let us follow these Characters in the story. The poet complains 
 of an insomnia which has deprived him of all Joy. One night he has 
 brought to him a romance, the "Metamorp hoses" of Ovid. Having read the 
 sorrow of Alcyone, whose husband was lost on the sea voyage; and the 
 power of the god of Sleep, he promises Morpheus a feather bed if he 
 will Bring him sleep. Immediately he falls asleep and dreams of a 
 Beautiful May morning. The chirping Birds awaken him. His room is 
 gilded with sun rays and painted with the text of the "Ronan de la 
 Rose". Below his window he hears the sound of a hunting horn and sees 
 a troop of huntsmen going past. He then mounts a horse and follows 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
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- 12 - 
 
 them to the forest wnere Emperor Octavian is hunting. After a long 
 chase the aogs lose the scent. The poet is walking a way from the 
 tree, where he x:as been stationed, when a little puppy cornea to him 
 ana fawns on him. He tries to catch it hut it dasr.es down a flowery 
 path. Soon he seas a man in ‘black leaning with his hack against an oak. 
 This handsome looking knight of about four and twenty is lamenting the 
 death of a peerless lady and is so absorbed that he neither nears nor 
 sees the dreamer. Haraly has he uttered the last words when his blood 
 rusnes hack to his heart and he turns as pale as death. The poet awk- 
 •vvardly accosts him, ana alter he n&s exchanged a few courteous words 
 with the knight, he remarks that the hunt seems to he at an end. To 
 this the knight answers that he has not thought of the hunt. Begged 
 by the poet to tell his sorrow and thereoy lighten it, the knight re- 
 plies that there is no possible alleviation for his woe. His Joy has 
 been turned to grief and Fortune nas taken away his queen. The poet 
 does not understand his meaning and reproaches him for his deep sorrow 
 which is too great for the cause. Then laying aside his metaphors, 
 he speaks of his early service to the god of Love, his laay's beauty, 
 her eyes, her hair, her frankness, and her harmony and poise. Her 
 merits surpassed those of all other ladies. She rejected his love and 
 devotion. He, despondent, waited a whole year before ne came back to 
 her. She knew then that his devotions were genuine. Tney were married 
 and sweet ms their union. "Wnere is she now?" Chaucer asks for he 
 wisr.es the knight to unburden his sorrow. "She is dead," he answers. 
 
 "Is that your lot? My Goa, it is true," says the poet. The dreamer 
 has no more to say. The huntsmen ride back from the hunt. A bell 
 rings in the castle, ana the poet awakes holding in his hand the 
 

 
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“ 13 — 
 
 story of Alcyone and Ceyx. The dreamer himself in trouble in the be- 
 ginning because of his insomnia lias forgotten his woes, so deeply mov- 
 ed is he in consoling the stranger, and does not remember them when 
 he awakes. 
 
 Let us now consider the three divisions of the poem — the sleep- 
 lessness of the poet; the hunt; and the grief of the black knight— in 
 tneir relation to the French poems above summarized. 
 
 The prologue, in which is the first division, harmonizes with 
 the poem ana gives a companion setting. Cnaucer foum a suggestion 
 for the mood of his areamer in "la Paradys & 'Amours". Froissart's 
 areamer is melancholy and therefore cannot sleep. He is a woful lover. 
 This suggested to Chaucer the mood of gentle sorrow for his dreamier 
 which is sustained throughout the "Book of the Ducnesse". Froissart, 
 however, does not have this mood pervade his story, for sorrow is not 
 the tone. He, on the contrary, deals with tre joy of love, its comforts, 
 and rewards which the god of Love grants to the lover, and makes the 
 “situation and mood of sorrow momentary, external, and evanescent^ 
 Chaucer's situation and mood become a part of the dreamer's temperament 
 and serve to unify the different divisions of the poem. 
 
 The skiliul U3e of Chaucer's indebtedness to I&chant in the pro- 
 logue is equally interesting. I\$achant in the "Fontaine Amoureuse" 
 hears one, in obedience to the commands of nis lord who has been re- 
 jected, singing a complaint embodying tne story of Alcyone and Ceyx. 
 
 The singer closes with an appeal to Morpheus to send him to his lady 
 in a vision so tnat she seeing his sintering might relent. Then Machant 
 approaches the singer ana tney seek the lord who tells of his sorrow. 
 
 They all fall asleep. The lord das a vision of his lady smiling on 
 

- 14 - 
 
 him ana saying gracious words. Chaucer does not overlook this slight 
 psychological link of cause ana effect between the legend of Alcyone 
 and Ceyx and the vision of the lover. ./ia chant promises a feather bed 
 to Morpheus, and this, too, appeals to Chaucer. 
 
 With both of these sources in mind Chaucer draws from them free- 
 ly. In the summary of the "Book of the Ducnesse" we have seen that 
 the mood of gentle sorrow; the gift of a feather bed to Morpheus, and 
 the psychological link between the vision in the prologue and the 
 third division oi the poem have been adapted to this particular story. 
 Instead of the laments of a constant wife Chaucer das fashioned the 
 laments of a constant lover. The saa hours of Alcyone have net the 
 realistic turn moat the lover’s lament has. Tnis we shall refer to 
 later in the discussion of the thira division of the poem. 
 
 Turning to the hunt we have nothing of any account cited by way 
 of a parallel. And yet in tnis incident which brings the dreamer from 
 his room, where he falls asleep after invoking Morpheus, to the path 
 in the wood which brings him to the lamenting lover, we nave a few 
 minor resemblances to the French poems. Emperor Qctavian (d68) is 
 mentioned in Iv&cnant's "Jugement do u Roy de Behaigne" and figures in 
 many romantic poems. Chaucer learns who he is from a hunter ana then 
 gives the najee no further cons icierat ion. This meeting of new names 
 nappens so in dreams. Ana so Chaucer's aream is given a touch of pro- 
 bability. The charming picture of tne lost puppy is another sugges- 
 tion from the "Jugement dou Roy de nexiaigne" or "Le Dit aou Lyon". 
 Chaucer has the dog act as a guide to lead him to fine, the black knight. 
 Then the dog is mentioned no more. 
 
 Passing now to the third division, the lamenting lover, to which 
 

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 . 
 
 
 
 
- 15 - 
 
 is devoted about two thirds of the poem we find many nints gathered 
 from Machaht's "Jugement dou Hoy de banaigne " the eighth "Motet", 
 
 "Hemeae de Fortune", the "lay de Uomiort", ana the "Homan de la Hose". 
 Unaer Chaucer's pen the conventional lament takes on a personal note 
 not found in nis French sources. The lady in "behaigne" faints after 
 her story of grief is recounted, she, moroever, merely exchanges her 
 comidence with the bereaved lord; the knight in the "Duchesse" tuans 
 as pale as death after his lament and later continues his sorrow in a 
 well conceived dialogue. Tr_e knight not only lists a conventional 
 inventory of his laay's beauty, but dwells on her hair, ana lingers 
 on her eyes, waicn were open not too wide, resides, the lover paints 
 ner beauty, demeanor, and speech in spasmodical fashion such as is 
 natural in a dream worla. 
 
 The conclusion of the last division of the poem has been unduly 
 criticised. It is very artistic. Some critics contend that the words, 
 "She is dead", are not fitting for a climax since the dreamer neard 
 the Cause of the grief when he first approached the lover. If Chaucer's 
 purpose in writing the lament were to give the dreamer information 
 concerning the grief of the black knight, the supposition is true; but 
 the purpose as we have heard it from the dreamer’s own words is not 
 this. The dreamer, though aware of the lament of the death of the lady, 
 begs the knight to toll his sorrows cc that the knight thereby, may be 
 comforted, Now in order to take the role of a sincere listener the 
 dreamer’s instinctive delicacy must hide the knowledge of the lover’s 
 bereavement. After a conversation, describing the lady's beauty, poise, 
 dignity, and charitable spirit to a child-like friend as the sole au- 
 dience; the bare truth in these words, "She is aead.," 
 
 is the only end- 
 

 
 
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- 15 - 
 
 ing that could make the lament complete. 
 
 The artlessness or naivete of Chaucer has given the charm to 
 the whole poem. Chancer* s dreamer, an imaginary fellow, having the 
 appearance of innocence and helplessness, has been skilfully used as 
 a device to bring out the pathos of the personal elegy. Ana the tone 
 of sadness thus effected lingers with the reader after he has finished 
 the poem. 
 
 Chaucer's personality is coming to the surface in his second 
 vision poem, the "Parlement of Joules". The remote suggestions of 
 French and Italian writers and direct borrowings from them are assimi- 
 lated by Chaucer sc that they are made very much his own. They are, 
 moreover, "freshened by his imagination" before they are given back 
 to Chaucer's readers. 
 
 His story in machinery and execution is admiraole. Again the 
 material from his favorite authors is given a personal application. The 
 story is generally accepted as a courtly compliment to Ricnard II of 
 England and Anne of Bohemia. It is to celebrate the betrothal of 
 Richard to Anne. The formal represents the Queen. The three tercel 
 eagles were long accepted as Guillaume de Baviere, ^ Friedrich of 
 Meissen, and Richard. The other birds make up the different classes in 
 England— the birds of prey are taken to represent the nooles; the worm- 
 fowls, the bourgeois; the water-fowls, the mercantile class; and the 
 seed-fowl, the agricultural class. These characters are the cnief ones 
 in the parliament of birds presided over by the goddess of Nature. 
 
 The dreamer -®s the minor character in the dialogue in the "Book 
 of the Duchesse". Eere he does not take any part in the conversation. 
 
 (l) Or according to itoerson, Cbailes VI of France. 
 
- 17 - 
 
 And yet, nevertheless, he is very necessary in the narrative. He in- 
 troduces the setting by means of beautiful descriptions which, we shall 
 mention later. After he has described the temple of Venus and the 
 court of the goddess of Nature, he remains a silent witness at the 
 parliament, hearing, seeing, and recording the proceedings. 
 
 There are three divisions in the "Parlement of Foules"— the 
 introduction; the park with its trees, personages, and temple; and 
 the parliament of fowls. 
 
 let us pause here to follow the course of the story. The poem 
 opens with the poet's astonishment at the wonderful nature of Love. 
 Often has he read of its miracles. One day while he sits reading old 
 books, he happens on the dream of Scipio. Past and long he reads of 
 Af r icanus taking his grandson from the world and revealing to him the 
 future dwellings of the righteous and of the wicked. Then he falls 
 asleep and dreams that the same Afr icanus comes to him and says that 
 he will requite him for his recent reading. Having invoked Cytherea 
 to help him with his rhyme, Chaucer resumes the story of his dream. 
 
 Afr icanus seizes him and leads him to a park on the gats of which are 
 two inscriptions: one, the blissful realm of ..eart's cure; ana the 
 other, the realm of Danger and Disdain. As soon as they enter the gate, 
 Africanus disappears, lany flowers, trees of all kinds, ana birds 
 fill the park. The whispering winds ana singing birds make mellow 
 the temperate air. Cupid stands under a tree beside a well, sharpening 
 his arrows. Close by are Plesaunce, Aray, Lust, Curtesye, Craft, and 
 others. The poet nears a temple of Venus which is supported by great 
 pillars of jasper. Around it dance dishevelled women; on the roof 
 are hundreds of doves; before the door sit Dame Pees and Dame Fhcience; 
 
. 
 
 , 
 
 
 
 
 
 % 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
. 8 — 
 
 within, stan_s the god Pr iap us being crooned with garlands of fresh 
 flowers; ana in a dim privy corner are Venus and her porter Richesse. 
 Painted on the walls are many stories of noole women. Coning out a- 
 gain to the green park the poet sees a queen, the goddess of Nature, 
 sitting upon her throne in a hall built of branches, birds of all 
 kinds are present, for it is St. Valentine’s Day when the birds come 
 to cnoose their mates. Nature bias them take their places according 
 to their kind. And so they group themselves as oirds of prey, worm- 
 fowls, water-fowls, ana. seed-birds. Nature holds a female bird of 
 great beauty on her hand, and tells all according to their rank to 
 speak their choices. Three tercel eagles speak first and all cnoose 
 the forme 1 on Nature's land. The forme 1 blushes. With passion ana 
 respect the tercel eagles present themselves. Their speeches alone 
 last from dawn until dusk. The protests of tne other fowls become so 
 loud tnat the ceremony is disturbed. Nature has to command mat they 
 each elect a representative. Then in the noisy ieoate about the manner 
 in which a lover should pay his court, the falcon, the cuckoo, the 
 goos.8, ana the dove, severally show themselves chivalrous, selfish, 
 coarse, and tender, each true to the class that he represents, Irameaia- 
 tely following these noisy declarations, constantly interrupted oy 
 different parts of the assembly, Nature decides that the lady is to 
 cnocse for herself. The formal begs Nature tc grant her a year's 
 respite. This request is granted. Tire other birds quickly choose 
 their mates ana fly off with them singing a rondel to a French tune: 
 
 "He who loves well is slow to forget". This singing awakens the poet. 
 
 Referring to our stannary we may observe the application of 
 Chaucer's inspired passages. The conception of the court trial has 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
- 15 - 
 
 been traced to "Eualine et Eglantine'*. In tnis French poem two ladies 
 dispute which has the more courteous lover. At last the court of fowls 
 decide for them. Hie application by Chaucer we shall consider later. 
 
 Hie first evidence of the above mentioned inspiration is seen 
 in the rei lection on the wonders of love in the proem. For this we have 
 no direct parallel cited by critics. Chaucer has devised it to begin 
 the theme of his poem devoted to the wonders of love. The idea of love 
 is sustained throughout by hints which we shall note In the course of 
 the story as Chaucer has arr&ngea them. 
 
 Here Chaucer introduces his guiae. He nas been reacting Cicero's 
 "Somnitm Scipionie" and falls asleep. In his dream comes Airicanus 
 of the "Soranium" to reward him for his readings. Hie description of 
 Afncanus 1 appearance is a translation from Claudian. .before Chaucer 
 journeys with him he invokes Cytherea to aid him in his rhyme. Some 
 of the vision poems we have noticed have invocations but these are 
 not essential parts of them. What is interesting in this one is the 
 i act that Chaucer acknowledges Venus to be the one who made nis dream, 
 we have then a well cnosen assistant for the telling or a love story. 
 
 Having arrived at tne park gate under the guidance of Afncanus 
 Chaucer benolds inscriptions on the g&te. Th«se were suggested by 
 Xante's "Inferno" tnough they are not in Chaucer so awe inspiring as 
 in his original. Afncanus, in the story Chaucer read before dreaming 
 tnis dream, took his grandson of the world and revealed to him the 
 future dwellings of the righteous and ox the wicked. Now in the "Parle- 
 ment of Foules" he leads Chaucer to a gate bearing the inscriptions, 
 the blissful realm of heart's curs, ana the realm of Danger and Dis- 
 
 dain, 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
— 20 — 
 
 In the second division of the poem Ghaucer has been influenced 
 oy Boccaccio's "Teseide". He has used a few passages from that poem 
 in the following description. The temple is raised on lofty columns 
 around which dance young men and maidens and above' which fly the doves 
 Monna Pace with Pazienza at her side sits before the door. Within, 
 the altar flames are fanned by signs caused by Gelosia. To Priapus 
 the highest place is assigned. Lying about in the sanctuary are many 
 relics showing the power of love, such as broken bows of Diana's 
 band and Atalanta's apples. The walls have painted storms of Pyra- 
 mus, Thisbe, ana many other lovers. In a more secret part of the 
 temple Venus resides. Inside her apartment, guarded by Ricchezza, a 
 dim light is cast on the reclining goddess. Bacchus ana Geres are 
 seated on either side. This picture emphasizes the theme of love and 
 Ghaucer needed a similar scene before ne ms ready to discuss the love 
 debate in the parliament. 
 
 Passing to the last division, the parliament, we find Chaucer's 
 fancy was enkindled by "Planet us i'hturae" of Alanua de Insulis and 
 Jean de Condi's "la Messe des Oisians et li Plais des Chanonesses et 
 des Grises Ilona ms". The latter which has already been here summariz- 
 ed we shall compare with the "Par lament of Foules". In the French 
 poem Venus sits on her gorgeous throne surrounded by her birds. She 
 nears the complaints of the canons sses against the grey nuns. Finally 
 she makes the decision. In the English poem Mature sits on the throne 
 Though Chaucer lias already described Venus in the temple in the park, 
 it seems that he uses Nature not to avoid repetition but to carry out 
 his own idea of dispensation. The formal is granted the right to 
 choose for herself. Human nature then is to be her final juage. 
 

 
 . 
 
 . 
 
- - 21 - 
 
 ohaucer prepares the reader for this by having Mature preside as the 
 judge in the parliament. This little stroke of realism is a result 
 of Chaucer’s artlessness. 
 
 In the closing of the parliament Chaucer has the lo-.ver class 
 of birds scoff at the bird aristocracy. Thus he uses the former to 
 expose the affectation in the refinement of courtly love. By this 
 blending of sentimental poetry and comedy on the part of the lower fowls 
 Chaucer has given to his "fttr lament of Foules" a dramatic oriskness and 
 an air of gaiety mingled with romance. 
 
 The conclusion is like a dream. The singing of birds as they 
 fly away awaken the dreamer. He then takes up other books and begins 
 to read hoping soma day to firm, something setter. 
 
 The 11 Ho us of Ikme" in constructive art surpasses the "Book of the 
 Duchesse" ana the "Par lament of Foules". Chaucer nas drawn from more 
 sources, but, nevertheless, displays more originality in weaving them 
 into a fascinating tale. The general notion of the House of Fame is 
 indebted to Ovid's "Metamorphoses ". Chaucer, moreover, has been in- 
 fluenced by recollections of philosophy, science, and art gathered by 
 his French, Italian, ana let in study. The stories tnus gleaned are 
 •-vcven by his powerful imagination into a connected and consistent plot. 
 
 This poem like the other two above mentioned belongs to the 
 genre of the Old French vision poems. The "Book of the Ducnesse" had 
 its conventions applied to a personal elegy; the “"Par lament of Foules" 
 had its material spun into a personal compliment; ana the "Hous of 
 Fame" we shall now proceed to see lias its conventional personages and 
 situations "paraded forth to display a humorous survey of the whole 
 world of mortal endeavors! 1 The mood "runs rippling on in high spirited 
 

 * 
 
 
 
- 22 - 
 
 fun." The dreamer, a melancholy and sleepless lover in the ’’Book of 
 the Ducnesse", is here di.ferently employed. The dreamer assumes an 
 attitude of wonder during his swift journey which is of intense ironical 
 significance. In Chaucer's first vision-poem his dreamer was in effect 
 a fictitious character; in this one he is addressed by the golden 
 eagle as "Geoffrey". 
 
 There are three hooks in tnis ''ambitious'' design. The first is the 
 introduction; the second, the marvelous journey; and the third, an 
 account of the House of Fame ruled by caprices. 
 
 An epitome of these will make cur divisions more perceptible. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 The poet prays God to turn dreams to good. He, himself, knows 
 not why this is a dream or why that is. He cannot think what is the 
 significance of dreams. He wonders if they are caused by sickness, 
 prison, or great distress. Once more he repeats his prayer that the 
 Holy Hood may turn every dream to good. Never mad anyone so great a 
 dream as had he on the tenth of December. Then he invokes the god of 
 Sleep and attaches to his prayer a curse upon those who criticise his 
 writings. With tnis his dream begins. The poet finds himself in a 
 temple made all of glass. It is, he knows, the temple of Venus. On 
 the walls is the story of Aeneas, more particularly of his love affairs 
 which Chaucer relates as he sees them. Leaving the temple he views 
 but a vast -.desert of sane, and high up in the sky an eagle swooping 
 downward. 
 
 Book II 
 
 Thinking again of his wonderful dream tne poet declares there 
 never was such a dream. Now he invokes Venus before he continues telling 
 
* 
 
 
- 23 - 
 
 it. The eagle swoops still lower and snatches dim "up ana carries him 
 so rapidly that he loses consciousness. Speaking in a man's voice the 
 eagle says that he is a messenger of Jupiter sent to reward the poet 
 for his service to blind Cupid and fair Venus by bearing him to the 
 House of Ihrae where he snail hear tidings of Love's folk. The palace 
 is situated mid-way between heaven ana earth and sea so that every 
 sound that leaves the earth passes to it. So palataole is this reason- 
 ing to the unlearned man that the eagle says that he might shake it by 
 the bill. Up they soar. The fields, hills, mountains, and forests 
 beneath dwindle to a point. Soon they are acove the galaxy ana the 
 clouds. Once more the eagle, eager to give another lecture, asks the 
 poet i i he wishes to learn of .the stars; but the poet replies that he 
 is too old for such learning. Hearing a loud noise the eagle explains 
 that they are now at the House of Tame from which the sound is coming. 
 Then he sets the poet down xn a street aha bids him walk forth to the 
 House of Fame. The poet regaining his courage asks further concerning 
 the nature of the sounds that he hears. Thereupon the eagle answers 
 that the sounds take the shape of the persons who utter them aha thus 
 the house is peopled. With this he bids his charge farewell and 
 promises to wait for him. 
 
 hook III. 
 
 Here the poet calls upon .Apollo to assist him to linish telling 
 the dream. When he leaves the eagle, he advances to the house which 
 is very strange to him. Upon a hill of ice it stanas. Inside are 
 minstrels,, musicians, trumpeters, magicians, and others who have to 
 do with news. The walls, the floor, the roof of the hall are all of 
 gold. On a oa'is sits the Queen, not tall, now short. Straight down 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
- 24 - 
 
 to the door from the dais are pillars on whicn are great nobles ana 
 i oik of dignity. The poet watcnes the various companies of suppliants 
 approach to ask her for boons, which she grants as she lists. A by- 
 stander at Chaucer's back now asks what is his name and why has he 
 come thither. "It is," says Chaucer, "to learn tidings of Love's folk". 
 The stranger kindly leads him out of the palace ana snows him a wicker 
 house quaintly wrought, whirling arouna. The winnows are open and 
 from them are coming the timings true ana false. Perched high on a 
 rock is his eagls. To him the poet goes ana prays him to remain while 
 he sees the wonders in this house do-vn in the valley. The eagle assures 
 him that it is his intention to wait and since Jupiter nas sent him to 
 assist the poet he will help him enter the revolving nouse. Immediate- 
 ly he picks up the poet ana flies through one of the open windows. The 
 turning auout of the bird- like cage cease 3 and Chaucer has a chance to 
 look aoout. He hears a great noise in a corner where men are talking 
 of love-tidings. Thus abruptly the poem en..s, 
 
 With this surux&ry before us ve shall follow the three books 
 through, noting the borrowed suggestions that Chaucer found necessary 
 to develop his fanciful poem. 
 
 In book I the introduction includes the reflection on dreams 
 which acts as a stimulus to the reader's curiosity; the invocation; 
 ana the description of the temple of Venus. The invocation is a pure 
 convention in sue stance . Cnaucer had found che idea in the "Anti- 
 claudianus" which he had Just read. Morpheus was frequently summon- 
 ed as we nave aireaay noticed in froissart's "ikradya &' Amour". 
 
 Chaucer's invocation to the gou of Sleep helps to intensity the re- 
 flection on dreams. The third part, the description of the temple of 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
- 35 - 
 
 Venus incluo.es the story of the "Aeneid". But Chaucer nas confined 
 his selection to the love affairs. Aeolu3 is trumpeting the news. Iat- 
 or in the Ho vise of Fame he has the god of I'/mas trumpeting tne fame of 
 each suppliant. 
 
 In the secona book is the swift marvelous journey. The eagle 
 mentioned, at tne close oi tne first book now "becomes tne guile. As 
 Virgil and. Beatrice conduct Dante turougn tne world of spirit so the 
 philosophical eagle "bears Chaucer aloft to tne House of Fame giving 
 him a scientific discourse on tne nature of sound. This sclent iiic 
 lecture prepares the reader for the phantasmagoria in tne House of 
 Fame. The conversation is carried on almost "by the eagle alone. His 
 humor keeps hie lectures palatable, lor example, 
 
 "lewedly to a la wed K&n 
 Speke, am snewe him swiche skiles. 
 
 That he nay shake hem by the biles". 
 
 Just at the point of digression in the eagle's discourse, Chaucer re- 
 marks that he is too old to learn of astronomy. 
 
 Passing to the third book we find Ovid's House of Fame some- 
 what changed. Chaucer devises nine companies to appear before the 
 goddess of Fame to present a survey of the whole world of mortal en- 
 deavors. The first company is awarded oblivion. The second is given 
 world ’.vide slander instead of honor. The tuird is granted what it 
 seeks — the good renown that it deserves. The fourth and the fifth 
 request that their merits may be forgotten; again Fame consents to 
 the petition of the former, but objects to that of the latter. To the 
 sixth class, the do-nothings, who have idled all their life and yet 
 are eager for reputation. Fame gives their boon. Another sluggard 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 , 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 , 
 
 
 
 
 
- 26 - 
 
 company requests the same Taut is given derision and reproach. The 
 eighth company, the villains, seek good renown and are disappointed. 
 The last and ninth company, also villains, exulting in their crimes, 
 ask an evil reputation ana receive it. This allegory Chaucer tells 
 in a lively narrative. Hie picture of Aeolus to announce Fame's 
 decision is so refreshing in its figurative language and its delicate 
 humor that the repeated appearance of the trumpeter aoes not become 
 monotonous. Artistically however, the third book is disproportionate- 
 ly long. 
 
 Ovid has influenced Chaucer more in the description of the 
 nouse of Humor than in that of the house of Fame. Ovid's house is 
 the residence of Fame but it is of a maze-like structure ana full of 
 incessant raurmurings, echoes and reports; no convocation of famous 
 men is there. Chaucer, on the other hand, lias combined realism ana 
 romanticism in his House of Rumor . He has read uany romances both 
 Efcench and English and has discovered the whirling castle which the 
 errant knight can enter only by the help of a guiding animal, that 
 moves more swiftly than the castle itself. The love vision poems ao 
 not have a whirling house. Furthermore, Chaucer knew that the ancient 
 houses of the celts were made of wicker . Out of his general knowledge 
 he fashions a -wicker house with a vertiginous motion. Chaucer has not 
 confused the sense of the let in "fama" which means "reputation” or 
 "renown". Its substance, however, is nothing but rumors. How the 
 connection between the House or Humor and the House of Fame is very 
 evident. From the House of Rumor the rumors come to the House of Fame 
 where Aeolus trumpets abroad the reputations. This furnishes Chaucer 
 
 an excellent situation for the humorous story of the ruling passion 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 » 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
- 27 - 
 
 of mankind. 
 
 When the poet nears a great noise in a corner where men are 
 talking of love tidings, he abruptly ends his story and leaves his 
 reader wondering over the conclusion. Nothing is left for him to tell 
 hut contemporary love stories of what he sees and nears. Like a dream- 
 er he breaks off in the midst of a thot. The reader is thus given a 
 chance to guess at what the conclusion would be and no doubt feels that 
 Chaucer has 30 artfully presented a picture of the poet's desire to 
 flee from the press and dwell in the realm of fantasy, that he needs 
 not develop the theme, a discussion of love, to make the poet's story 
 a dramatic whole. 
 
 Chaucer continues to have a great respect for his predecessors 
 ana borrows from them freely in his Prologue to the "Legend of Good 
 Women". And once more his power in assimilating this material 
 attracts our attention. In the other three dream poems, above mentioned, 
 we have pointed out that the poems were filled not with colorless and 
 shadowless allegorical personages, and conventional situations de- 
 tached from the theme; but with an abundance of life, movement, and 
 reality 0 earing on the theme itself. 
 
 As in the other poems the Prologue uses the vision machinery. 
 
 It contains the vision, the court of Love, the May morning, the sing- 
 ing birds, and the springing flowers. The conventional lover frequent- 
 ly employs the poetry of the Trench "marguerite colt" in praising his 
 lady. This poem stays closer to the types of convention than the "Hous 
 of Fame" and yet, nevertheless, the style is fresh and the story is 
 more unified. Chaucer again appears as a dramatic personage. We re- 
 call that he ms an observer in the "Parlem 9 nt of Foules" and a 
 

 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 . 
 
 ’ 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 ^64 | | 
 
 
 . 
 
 , 
 
 
 
 
 ' 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
- 28 - 
 
 drama tic personage in the "Hons of Fame". The former we fauna was 
 written to celebrate the royal carriage of Richard II to the Princess 
 .Anne of Bohemia; and the ’’Book of the Duchesse" to eulogize Blanche 
 the wife of John of Gaunt. Does the Prologue celebrate Queen Anne? 
 
 Since the application of the marguerite is still a point for argument 
 and is, moreover, not a natter of prime importance in our present 
 stuiy, we need not delay to consider the supposition. 
 
 In our discussion of the application of Chaucer's borrowings 
 from the Italian, Batin, and French poets it will be necessary to 
 pause for a moment to define the "marguerite cult" which colored his 
 praise of the daisy. The praise of the "marguerite" had already been 
 sung by Machant, Froissa.ro, and Deschawps, and so it seems that Chaucer 
 used the convention in his affectionate treatment of the daisy in the 
 Prologue. 
 
 According to Professor Lowes the tares French poets contributed 
 the following features to the "cult": One is led to suppose that 
 
 Machant 's "Dit de la Marguerite" was composed for Pierre de Lusignan 
 and celebrates one of his mistresses. The la my whom the daisy symboliz- 
 es is mined the iiYench. Marguerite and is considered the choicest one. 
 Though Froissart has l.hcnant 's marguerite in his mind, yet he fashions 
 another lady. She is the lady of the "Paradys d' Amours" who makes for 
 him the chaplet of marguerites an:, is honored in his "balade". later 
 in anotner poem, "La Prison Anoureuse", Froissart writing to an im- 
 prisoned friend whom he calls Rose, after rejecting the flowers sub- 
 ordinated to the daisy in the "balade" of the "Paradys", mentions one 
 small flower which, is called the marguerite encircled in gold. Again 
 he defends the marguerite against the pretensions of other flowers 
 
. 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 .• 3 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 . 
 
- 22 - 
 
 in two later poems, "Past oure lie” and "Plaidoirie de la Hose et de la 
 Violette". Thus "building on Machaat Froissart has made an addition to 
 the cultus. The third French poet, Descnamps, in his "lay de Franchise" 
 carries the symoolism of "Dit de la I.arguerite" one step further. More 
 will "be said of this one later. And so in these poems we notice tmx, 
 the marguerite not only symbolizes a royal person "but is the choicest of 
 the flowers. 
 
 .before we take up a detailed observation of the B version of the 
 Prologue we my find it interesting to examine the general differences 
 oetwech the two versions. In the B version there is a more immediate 
 indebtedness to the French "marguerite cult". It, moreover, contains 
 a greater praise of the daisy. To the daisy. Queen Alcsstis, ohaucer 
 is directed to dedicate the book. The moment of suspense that follows 
 this air. ends in a surprised recognition oi the Queen makes the B ver- 
 sion more dramatic than the A version which aoes not include the dedica- 
 tion of the book. Now for the structure itself, version A is better 
 idian version B. Version A begins with morning, provides for the long 
 day, passes to evening, implies the duration of the night ana brings 
 the reader to the morning once more. After completing the circle of 
 the day it comes to its climax in the account of the virtues of the 
 rlo..va . The sequence is good and the story moves steadily forward. 
 
 There is a beginning, a middle, and an ena. Version B, on the other 
 liana, begins with morning, passes to the virtues of the flowers and the 
 poet's own love for the daisy, comes to evening, and without transi- 
 tion goes back to daylight. The.lengtny description of the mating of 
 "birds which repeats the sentiment already expressed in 11.130-151 does 
 not have anything to do with the main action of the story but ratner 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 , 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
1 
 
 -30- 
 
 pro longs the May day setting to a disproportionate length. Professor 
 Lowes says tnat in the A version the "bird passage (1. 132-43) is a 
 dramatic touch, and links the May setting with the a&in action of the 
 poem. Yet even with these faults of the a version it is more refresh- 
 ing, spontaneous, and artistic than the A version. 
 
 Let us here follow tne course of the B version so that we can 
 note more clearly the application of the reminiscences from Boccaccio, 
 the French vision poems, and the French "marguex-ite cult". 
 
 The delightful Prologue opens with the poet’s reflection on his 
 studious and literary disposition. Y?hen the May 'day comes, though, 
 he lays aside his hooks for the fields and especially for the 'daisy, 
 harly in the morning he rises ana stays awake until the daisy closes 
 lor her rest. He laments that ne cannot praise her and 30 calls on 
 lovers who can sing her praise to help him. While the "birds are 
 mrb ling lays of "love and welcoming summer, ana the sweet fragrance of 
 the flowers drifts to him, he sinks softly down on his elbows to abide 
 the whole lay gazing upon the 'daisy. He does not desire to praise the 
 i lower above the leaf. When darkness comes ano. the daisy closes her 
 petals, it is the hour that me goes to the arbor where his bed is 
 strewn with flowers. He falls asleep and dreams that he is in the same 
 meadow where his flower was blooming, and from afar, walking in the 
 meadow, is the god of Love leading a Queen. She, wearing a gold "fret" 
 set with many white flowers, is dressed in green and looks exactly like 
 a daisy. The god of Love wearing a crown of gold is clad with a silk 
 garment embroidered with green leaves. In his hand are two fiery darts. 
 He begins to spread his wings as he advances. So womanly, so benignant- 
 ly, ana so meekly the Queen comes to-.auu txxe poet that she causes the 
 

 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
- 31 - 
 
 poet to "break into a ballad bidding all the ‘beautiful and virtuous 
 ladies of history bow before her. Behind the god of Love the poet sees 
 nineteen ladies in royal habit, and following t^.ese, an enormous number 
 of women. First they worship the daisy and then sit round in a circle 
 according to their station. The poet kneels with the flowers. When 
 the god of Love sees him kneeling among his flowers, lie asks him who 
 he is. Upon being informed the god of Love rebukes him for writing 
 the translation of the ’’Homan de la Ross" am the story of "Criseyde" 
 which are against Love's laws. The Queen speaks in Chaucer's behalf 
 and tells that the poet has written the "Ho us of Fame", the "Death of 
 Blaunche the Duchesse ", the "Par lament of Foules" besides other books. 
 She begs the god of Love to have mercy and promises that the offender 
 will serve him by singing praises of women who were true all their 
 lives. Finally the god of Love shows mercy and asks the poet if he 
 knows the lady, "hay, sir", answers Chaucer. The god then speaks cf 
 the book lying in Chaucer's chest, that is of Queen Alcestis who was 
 
 ' I 
 
 turned into a daisy. "Now knowe I hir", the poet replies. Once more 
 the god rebukes him, this time for leaving Alcestis out of the ballad 
 "Hyd Aosolon, thy tresses", and commands him to include her in the next 
 book with all the other true ladies. After giving further directions 
 he say3 that he must go home to Paradise. Whereupon Chaucer takes his 
 book and sets to work on his first legend. 
 
 This Prologue with its sustained tone of Joy, its beauty of 
 imagery, and its buoyant freshness of an English IvSaytide is one of 
 Chaucer's most successful ana most beautiful productions in conception 
 and in execution. 
 
 The personal note of the poet is unusual in the fourteenth cen- 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
tury "but hers Chaucer, no twi tn s tana ing , expresses nis t&ste, his 
 attitude and his relations with the court. His thoughts are so spon- 
 taneous that they seem not to he grouped according to the structure 
 of Chaucer's predecessors. 
 
 Nevertheless, let us now trace the possiole indebtedness for the 
 three parts of the poem: the praise of a May day; the description of 
 the god of Love and the noble Queen; and the poet's interview with 
 these divinities. 
 
 In the first division the poet lays aside his delightful books 
 and seeks the gentle sweeping meadow on a l.iay morning to enjoy the 
 daisy while the birds sing in the numerous trees, both the "marguerite >' 
 poems and the vision poems have similar introductions. The dream 
 setting is net used by Deschamps in the "lay de franchise" and the wor- 
 ship is focused upon the marguerite. In the "Roman de la Rose" the 
 dream setting is delayed until the poet gives a snort discussion on 
 dreams; an account of the nature of the book itself; and a praise of the 
 month of May. Deschamps in his "I ay Anoureux" has delayed his dream 
 setting longer than Guillaume de Lor r is and Jean de Ivleun. He opens his 
 poem with a praise of spring ana the month of May. The beauties of 
 the season delight him. He falls asleep and dreams that he is walking 
 through the forest, then into a meadow where the god of Love is 
 surrounded by a company. Ana still another example of this delayed 
 dream setting ana a dream transporting the poet to his May day delights 
 is found in Guillaume de Machant ' s "Dit du Vergier". The poet rises, 
 one April morning, ana goes into a garden. He is de ligated by the 
 song of the birds ana by the fragrance of waits, yellow, and pink 
 flowers. In this happy spot he thinks of a is laay. The dream follows 
 in which the poet dreams tnat he is in the same meadow where he had just 
 
- 33 - 
 
 been walking. 
 
 Thus we see that Chaucer adapted to hi a story a conventional 
 device for getting his dream uiider way. He needed for nis no’ole lady 
 an atmosphere of peace, daintiness, ana beauty. Finding in these 
 several suggestions such a setting, he cleverly applied it. 
 
 Hear the close of this division of his poem, Chaucer's allusion 
 to the "Ieef" and "Flour" emphasizes his panegyric of the daisy. He 
 \oes not wish his praise to the daisy to be misconstrues. His flower 
 that he is praising is not the "Flour" of the English court society. 
 
 That "Flour" is of a different note. He holds aear both the "Leef" 
 and the "Flour". 
 
 Passing from the day wandering in the meadow to the dream porcicn 
 of this poem, we find that the two are closely joined. In the vision 
 Chaucer thinks that he is in the same meadow and sees a Queen who re- 
 presents his daisy. The experience of the previous day, therefore, 
 comes to him as he sleeps in his little arbor. In describing the daisy's 
 perfect sweetness in the awakened world Chaucer nas been m: luancea by 
 Idacnaac. He tnere speaks of the odor of the f lower wnich. is contrary 
 to fact. Now in the dream world he turns to Froissart to enable him 
 &o define the crown of Alcestis. Froissart speaks of the white leaves 
 of the daisy and not of an individual daisy. 
 
 But as to the primary conception or the fundamental elements of 
 its structure Chaucer is indebted to no definite model. He had at his 
 command all the traditions of the love vision 'genre" and the "marguer- 
 ite cult" but his plan for his Prologue originated in his own mind. He 
 paints a wide and crowded scene without any confusion or distraction of 
 attention from its central fig-ore. Queen Alcestis. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
34 - 
 
 Chaucer 'a story moves swiftly and smoothly forward. The Queen 
 with the god of Love and her worshipful attendants approaches the lov- 
 er. The lover is found in Love’s domain and is charged with trespassr 
 ing. He meets soon with a second charge which is neresy against Love’s 
 law Oased on what the offender has said or sung. Then the Queen dis- 
 tinctly recognizes that her master owes mercy to the suppliant. She 
 pleads for him, ana finally gives him a penance. The poet is ignorant, 
 until the god of Love tells him, that this la-ay is after all some one 
 of whom he has already known. Upon a is recognition he praises her 
 affectionately. In this orief summary we have the Queen at all times 
 the central figure. The poet is inspired to "break into a ballad 
 upon seeing her. Her attendants worship her. The god of Love con- 
 sents to her plea. And at the close the poet eulogizes her. 
 
 As a court poet Chaucer never forgot his audience. Showing that 
 the vision poems and the French "marguerite cult" were popular in his 
 age he adapted them to his own original stories. Thus in his "Look of 
 the Duchesse", the "Parlement of Houles," ana the "Eous of Fame" he 
 used many of the conventions of the vision poems. In the Prologue he 
 used the two popular types. So doing he satisfied not only his own 
 artistic taste hut the public's as well. With it all he was more sub- 
 jective, more personal, and. more individual in the use of his mterial 
 than his predecessors. His feeling for the real, touched by a fine 
 sense of humor, shines forth in trese stories. In the last poem, tne 
 Prologue, Chaucer wisr.es to tell of actual women and his personal 
 feelings are increasingly asserting themselves. He is now prepared 
 to display a wider outlook on life and in his masterpiece, his "Canter- 
 bury Tales", he himself becomes one of the pilgrims. 
 
-35- 
 
 Chapter II. 
 
 " Troilus and C r iaeyde ■' 
 
 In "Troilus and Criseyde" Chaucer has developed a long narrative 
 which W. M. Rossetti asserts is the most beautiful one in the English lan- 
 guage. And Professor Kittredge declares that it is not only the first 
 novel, in the modern sense, teat ms ever written but one of the best. 
 
 Some readers, however, are disappointed when they read it for they do not 
 find in it rapid movement. They declare the dialogues too long; the solil- 
 oquies languid; and the analysis of sentiment, emotion, ana passion un- 
 attractive. This retarded action is due to the fact tnat the poem puts 
 little stress on incidents but much stress on psycnological analysis and 
 dramatic revelation of cnaracter. Those who ao enjoy the tale acknowledge 
 that it is not one for a spare nour. To them only by careful reading is 
 Cnaucer's psychological treatment made clear and charming. 
 
 The story of Troilus and Criseyde is a mediaeval product. Homer 
 merely mentions Troilus, a son of Priam ("Iliad” XXXIV 257). Virgil de- 
 votes but four verses to his death ("Aeneid" I 474-78). Dictys who took 
 arms against Troy furnished journals of the war in his "Epherneris Belli 
 Trojani", In the sixth century Ikres, a Trojan, employs this history in 
 his "De Excidio Trojal Historia" ana. gives an authentic account of the 
 war from the standpoint of the defeated Trojans. His Troilus is depicted 
 as a great leader, wno on several occasions puts the Greeks to flight; 
 wounds Diomede, Agamemnon, and even Achillas; and when taken at great dis- 
 advantage is slain, hriseida is accorded some prominence. In the twelfth 
 century Benoit de Saints Mors takes a brief epitome of Ihres for the 
 
 ye 
 
 basis of his "Roman de Trori" and supplements it with matter from Dictys 
 and Ovid. His history begins with the Argonautic expedition, and descrioes 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 -36- 
 
 the rape of Helen, the gathering of the Greek hosts, the siege and fall 
 of Troy, ana the return oi the Greek warriors, and the death of Ulysses. 
 Benoit invents the story of the faithful love of Troilus ana the faith- 
 lessness of Grisayde. His heroine is probaoly a coraoiration of Homer's 
 xriseis, slave of Achilles ("Iliad" I 1840), and Chryseis, daughter of 
 Chrysea ("Iliad" I 18<3 ) • Pandarus is merely mentionea as one of the Tro- 
 jan parliament. In the next century a Batin paraphrase of Benoit's poem 
 with an extended denunciation of women was written hy Guido delle Colonne 
 in his "Historia Trojana". It is in this poem that Chaucer finds the 
 martial deeds of Troilus recounted in full. But Before this proauction of 
 Guido, Joseph of Exeter, in the ninth decade of the twelfth century 
 elaoorated the work of Dares in "De Bello Trojano". Professor Root finds 
 inevitable traces of this account in Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde. " 
 
 In the fourteenth century we find a source of prime importance, 
 Boccaccio's "Filostrato" derived from Benoit and Guido. Troilus is the 
 principal personage, sentimental ana passionate. Griseida, a young widow 
 of considerable experience, corrupt in character, is very coquettish. 
 
 Panuarus is presented as a young ana sprightly Florentine gentle- 
 man, an intimate companion of Troilus ana a cousin to Griseioa. He is the 
 gay go-between of whose benavior the narrator cordially approves. 
 
 It has been accepted that the "Filostrato" is the account chief- 
 ly followed in Chaucer's "Troilus and Ciiseyde". Chaucer introduces 
 many new elements, though, and shifts the interest from Troilus to Cris- 
 eyde. He, moreover, employs many classical allusions, invocations, and 
 much astrology. Throughout the poem are philosophical ideas of Boethius 
 in regard to love, to mutability in fortune, ana to predestination, ce- 
 

 . 
 
 
 
 
sides frequent proverbs and admonitions such as aoound in the "Roman 
 de la Rose". For the historical background it seems that Chaucer drew 
 from the works of Joseph of Exeter , Guido delle Colonne, and ^enolt. 
 Proxessor Kittredge contends that Chaus er seems to have believed t.^at 
 
 a Lollius wrote on the Trojan war for he refers to Lollius as his author- 
 
 / 
 
 ity. 
 
 With these borrowed passages and original ones Chauser develops 
 a pure comedy, not unmix9d with irony. He, enjoying human life in all 
 its changes, sympathizes (^with his personages. Troilus is mighty in anus 
 but has little experience of men or of comuct. Ee takes a beautiful but 
 ''complex' 1 woman for an angel of heaven. lacking strong volition he can- 
 not master nis fate. Pandarus, a midale-agea buayooay, unsuccessful in 
 his own loves, undertakes to manage the love of Troilus ana Criseyde. 
 Criseyde, whose softness of affection is the secret of her enduring charm, 
 is the principal character. The complexity of her double nature holds 
 our interest. The woes of Troilus Chaucer elaoorates; but he snows re- 
 luctance at narrating the faithlessness of Criseyde. 
 
 An abstract of such a poem, though inadequate to represent its 
 real nature, will be useful for our discussion of its unity, coherence, 
 and proportion. 
 
 (Book I) At the very beginning Chaucer announces his theme. He 
 is to tell the double sorrow of Troilus in loving Criseyde, who is at 
 last unfaithful. Calchas, the great diviner, foreknowing tne destruc- 
 tion of Troy, flees to the Greeks, and leaves in Troy his oeautiful 
 daughter, Criseyde, a young widow. During tne Trojan celebration of 
 Ihlladion's feast, the King's son, Troilus, a professed woman-hater, sees 
 
 (l) Kittredge, Chaucer and His Poetry Ch. IV, 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
- 38 - 
 
 Criseyde. At once he is smitten with love. He retires to his own cham- 
 ber in shame and love-sicxness. There his friend Parmarus, an uncle of 
 oriseyde, finds aim and plans to he a go-between in Troilus' love scenes. 
 
 (Book II) On a lair May morning Panuarus visits Cnseyde to tell 
 her of Troilus’ love and distress ana to pleaa that sne show a little 
 pity. As she is sitting oy her window, alter her uncle leaves, she nears 
 men crying in the street that Troilus has put the Greeks to flight. She 
 looks out ana beholds her new lover, armed all but his head, riaing a 
 wounded steed. Through ner mind passes thoughts of his prowess, his 
 estate, his renown, his wit, his poise, and his gentleness. After this 
 she goes to play with her nieces in her garden where a passionate ballad 
 sung by Antigone, her niece, sets her dreaming of love. later at night, 
 when she is in bed thinking of Troilus, she nas love brought to her in 
 the trills of the nightingale, warding in the moonlight on a green 
 cedar below her window. She falls asleep ana dreams that an eagle digs 
 its long claws into her breast and witnout causing her any pain, removes 
 her heart and places his in its place. Troilus, urged by Pandarus, writes 
 a letter to Criseyde Which Pandarus bears the next morning to the lady. 
 Persuaded more by her own temperament than by Panaarus* entreaties, 
 Criseyde replies. Then Pandarus goes to Troilus’ most beloved, brother 
 and has him invite Criseyde to ainner. 
 
 (Book III) After the dinner Criseyde is Drought by her uncle to 
 the bedside of Troilus vmo is pretending exhaustion from love. Criseyde 
 kisses the youth ana takes him into her service. Soon after this meet- 
 ing Pandarus asks driseyde and her attendants to supper declaring that 
 Troilus is away. The rain and thunaer make it impossible for the guests 
 to leave and so Pandarus gives the attendants a corner room and Cr iseyde 
 

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- 38 - 
 
 a little room for the night. later in the evening Panoarus enters her 
 room through a trap-door ana. describes to her the unexpected arrival of 
 her knight, and his pitiful condition and despair. He says that Troilus, 
 now torn with jealousy, ana thinking of a rival receiving her afiection, 
 will die if he is not comforted "by her. Thereupon, the niece moved 
 with pity consents to receive her lover. (1) When Troilus sees that 
 his feigned jealousy orings tears to his lady's eyes, he is so over- 
 come that he falls into a swoon. Eandarus ras to restore him. To urge 
 him on he gives him further advice. When his plot appears successful, 
 he withdraws to the fireside with his hooks of romances, hut even after 
 nis departure something of nis ribaldry remains with this scene. His 
 humor, "grinning ana capering", modifies tne lovers' sentiment. 
 
 (Book IV) When Galenas askes that Antenor oe given in exchange 
 for Criseyde, Troilus is present in the parliament hut says not a v/ord 
 lest men espy his love. The Trojans accept the offer. Pamarus 
 arranges another interview for Troilus and Criseyde before tne latter 
 goes to the Greek camp. Criseyde promises her lover that she \vill es- 
 cape from the Greeks and return to Troy in ten day3. Troilus urges 
 elopement, hut Criseyde, fearing disgrace, objects. The next morning 
 Troilus leaves ner chamber, and sue goes from Troy. 
 
 (Book V) Criseyde is escorted to the Greeks by Diomede who 
 pleads his love. He does not "lose his heart but merely improves a 
 good opportunity" to win her love. By the tenth day he nas succeeded 
 in pressing his suit. Criseyde gives him a steed and a brooch that 
 she had received from Troilus, and bids him wear ner token. Greatly 
 
 (1) Professor Cummings opposes, and Professor Lowes defends the opinion 
 that Cnaucer borrowed. this secret meeting oi the lovers from Boccaccio 's 
 "Filocolo". 
 
- 40 - 
 
 does s he lament her falseness to Troilus. Panda r us once more comfofct- 
 ing Troilus tells him to write his sorrow tc his lady. Criseyde replies 
 that she is going to return to him. In the meanwhile, oas sandra inter- 
 prets a dream of Troilus as showing that Criseyde iias given Diomede 
 her love. Troilus refuses to believe the interpretation and continues 
 to write to his lady. She replies feebly and finally breaks off the 
 correspondence. Even, when the fatal truth is revealed to him by the 
 brooch upon the coat, reft by Deiphebus from Diomede, he cannot r®braid 
 her faitiilessness . Diomede and Troilus meet often on the field yet 
 neither slays the other. Finally Troilus wreaks vengeance on the Greeks, 
 and before he falls by the sword of Achilles he sighs, 
 
 " Criseyde, swete may, 
 
 VThom I have ay with al my mighty served. 
 
 That ye thus doon, I have it nought deserved. 11 
 
 The poem consists of 1 -fifty scenes bound into a dramatic unity. 7 ' 
 
 It is Criseyde that remains from the beginning to the close the center 
 of the unbroken interest. Through the eyes of Troilus she is first 
 presented to us. Then Panoarus becomes active in producing episodes 
 for the development of the theme. She is not a mere victim of the 
 machinations of her uncle. Her own temperament, not Pandarus* intrigues, 
 persuades ner to yield to the love of Troilus. Alter she knows the 
 secret of Troilus* passion, it is the tenderness of the mediaeval lady 
 of romance that dissipates her reserve. She is never more sentimental, 
 sweeter, or more romantic than she is when she listens tc the nightin- 
 gale in the cedar tree. In ner first actual interview with Troilus 
 feigning illness in the nouse of Deiphebus, she is irresistibly drawn 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
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-41- 
 
 to her knight. The ieara and qualms that she expeiiences, the rainy 
 night in Panoarus 1 home, are due to the "psychological trepidations of 
 her heart w in the presence of intense erotic emotion. When the impend- 
 ing aooru of Troy brings about the separation of the lovers it does not 
 surprise us to see her in her deep gri9x , and .her swoon, hut for Troilus 
 she refrains from showing her grief during their last visit together. 
 Alter days of waiting, oodurate refusals of Calchas, and persistent 
 approaches of Diomede, Criseyde relies too much on ner three former 
 strong qualities, n her skill in repartee, her simulation, ana her ena tar- 
 ing love for Troilus. 11 Diomeae tells her it is useless to grieve for a 
 Trojan for they will he inevitaoly destroyed. She can see for herself 
 that the folk of Troy are in prison. Criseyde is impressionable and 
 weak. She, at last, succumbs to the stress of circumstance and, more- 
 over, to her own lack of faith in the ultimate nappy issue of events. 
 
 Her sc ul ;/ undergoes a change but net a deteriorate ion^ Thus the two fac- 
 tors, Pandarus' intrigues, and the doom of Troy, are used to reveal the 
 loveliness and weakness of Criseyde. Her strength of will is no natch 
 for her inconstant heart. This delineation of the character of 
 Criseyde hinds all the scenes together. Twenty-three out of the fifty 
 scenes appear with her as the Chief character. The other twenty-seven 
 are of her and in exhibition of her. Chaucer has pictured her in all 
 of her emotional moons from the w first dawn of her passion for Troilus, 
 on through her days of happiness, into her pitiful misery and her fall" 
 Each scene is in its proper sequence and is firmly knit with 
 the past and future of the story. Ihch scene is in its own place and 
 with one exception, each has its own special fitness, and its own in- 
 evitable function. There is one passage (hook IV 947-1085) on fore- 
 
-42- 
 
 knowledge ana freedom of the will wnich pernaps is inartistic, hut is 
 not a digression. The sequence of the scenes is arranges, of course, 
 for the purpose of introducing ana revealing characters. The persons 
 that take part are fourteen, six women ana eight men. Of tnese four- 
 teen, four carry on the real movement of the action. And of the four 
 principal characters, Criseyde is the first to he brought before the 
 reader, then Troilus, then Pandarus, aru, at last, in the thirty-ninth 
 scene, Diomede. As Troilus 1 hopes sink; Diomede's hopes rise. These 
 fifty scenes having astonishing variety of personal feelings are con- 
 nected hy lini:-pas sages of dramatic skill. Some, like tne transitory 
 Joy (hook III, 813-33) and the adversity following prosperity (hook 
 III, 1625-29), are rex lections on tne story. Others are narratives or 
 descriptions, which are necessary for the understanding of the plot. 
 
 In order to reveal character Chaucer lias arranged the scenes according 
 to the cause ana efiect of motives and emotions. The unveiling of nis 
 characters tnus produces no snock to the reader. Following the scene 
 of tne opening action in the temple, Panoarus keeps first Criseyie and 
 then Troilus advised. The impending doom of Troy separates them. Then 
 comes the days of waiting full of sorrow for both the lovers. Until the 
 separation tnere is little development of character in either the nero 
 or the heroine. The former is all the devotion of a faitnful servant 
 in the Court of Love, and all the dignity of the conventional lover. 
 
 The latter, the blithe lauy of romance, becomes a branded woman. In 
 aue sequence tnese fifty scenes form all tne five parts of tne dramatic 
 scneme which we may next consider. 
 
 Chaucer plans his plot with absolute symmetry of proportion. 
 
 The first part of the poem leads up to the complete union of the lovers 
 

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-43- 
 
 and the seconu part describes the fast ensuing separation. The former 
 contains 4543 lines ana the latter 3514 lines. Cnaucer nas tnus shii t- 
 ed his emphasis from that of Boccaccio. By the elaboration of the first 
 part, the dramatic center of the story, which in the "Filostrato" comes 
 before tne iniu.aie of the poem, is thrown by Chaucer into the second half. 
 Boccaccio, tne sentimentalist, elaborates the pathetic scenes of tne 
 falling action; Chaucer, tne humorist, centers his interest in tne 
 subtle interplay of motive, the complication of the plot, ana above all 
 the psychological problem of Criseyde's character. Tne part o, the 
 poem given tc minute revelation of motive ana temperament of the cnarac- 
 ters is extended through thirty-seven of the scenes. Chaucer has wise- 
 ly used the forms of discourse best adapted to this purpiose. He has em- 
 ployed the dialogue, the monologue, the group »eenes, and the trio 
 scenes. This order not3s the most frequent use of the first, then the 
 second and the thirl. The last is rarely used. The climax is given 
 in a single scene. Only twelve scenes are devoted to the result of tne 
 climax which is the developing of the moral degradation of Criseyde 
 under the influence of Diomede‘s passion. Chaucer, in order to give 
 fuller space to his psycnological details in the study of character, 
 pushes his climax scene (book IV, 1128-1701) from the center of compo- 
 sition to a point much nearer the end. It is preceded by 5, 797 verses 
 am followed by 1,869. The protasis of the drama contains 266 lines in 
 which Troilus and Criseyde are introduced. There are 5,486 verses de- 
 voted to the epitasis, beginning with the scene in the temple where the 
 action opens, and extending to the climax. In 619 lines there is the 
 climax ani the complete solution of the dramatic problem. Here there is 
 the triumph of worldly prudence and of conventional scruples over the 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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-44- 
 
 ardor of passion and the glory of self-sacrifice. As a result of the 
 climax, comes the sedition of Onseyde hy Diomede and the death of 
 Troilus; contained in the next 1,820 lines. The last fifty lines, 
 the closing stage of the action, give the 'beautiful scene in which the 
 soul of Troilus, taken from earth into paradise, looks down -with 
 scorn upon the "baseness of earthly life. ^ 
 
 (1) For the plot structure I have been inae.jtea .0 Professor Fiic^, 
 P.M.L.a. > Vol. Iv. , pp. 307-322. 
 

 
 
 
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- 45 - 
 
 Chapter III 
 
 "The Flan of the 'Canterbury Tales 1 * 
 
 Chaucer's Eastern predecessors furnished him many models of 
 stories in "framework". The most conspicuous examples are the "Fables 
 of Bidpai", the "Seven Wise Asters" or "Seven Sages", ana the "Dis- 
 ciplina Clericalis". In the first is told the story of a certain king 
 of Inaia who, having been liberal to a hermit, is rewarded by a treas- 
 ure in which is a piece of silk bearing mystic characters. This in- 
 scription reveals that another treasure lor him is hidden in the moun- 
 tains of Ceylon. Thither he hastens and meets the sage Bidpai who 
 narrates to him a series of tales which constitute the treasure ana. the 
 book. In many of these stories are animals as personages. A more 
 complex and more widely circulated mediaeval work is the second one, 
 the "Seven Wise masters". An initial narrative relating the danger 
 of a king's son at a certain age unless he would maintain complete 
 silence, furnishes the framework of the series of stories that are pro- 
 longed in their telling by the wise men until the hour oi the son's 
 destiny is passed. This "framework" lias more plot than that o: the 
 "Fables". The third story, the "Disciplina Clericalis", is another 
 series of aidactic narratives given by a father to his son. 
 
 The "Arabian Nights", which reached England after Chaucer's 'day, 
 differs from the "Fables" ana the "Seven Wise Masters" in the fact that 
 the collection is made for the purpose of amusement. It may have fur- 
 nished a precedent for Boccaccio, who is not attempting a moral improve- 
 ment of his readers in his "Decameron". In many respects Boccaccio 
 surpasses his Eastern predecessors. His work has not something im- 
 probable or extravagant in the invention of the circumstances v/nich give 
 

 
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 occasion to nis several stories. On the contrary there is a sense of 
 reality over "both tne initial story ana the following ones. Ten youpg 
 people, seven women ana tnree men, flee from Florence to escape the 
 danger of a pestilence; and pass ten clays in a ‘beautiful garden. While 
 the plague rages in the city, they amuse themselves at the country 
 villa by telling stories. Each cay a chosen reader announces the sub- 
 ject lor the day and calls upon each member to tell a tale. 
 
 Thus far no uncontraiicted evidence lias been given to show that 
 Chaucer is indebted to Boccaccio's ’’Decameron" for his "framework". The 
 "Canterbury Tales" lias raa ny resemblances and yet the fundamental fic- 
 tion is different, hoccaccio's ten narrators, all of high social stand- 
 ing, are assembled in a garden; Chaucer's motley company of pilgrims 
 are riding on horseback to Canterbury, both have the atmosphere of 
 out-of-doors. 
 
 .Another group of stories with which uhaucer vms prooaoly ac- 
 quainted is Gower’s "Concessio Amantis". This contains a prologue and 
 eignt books in which a priest admonishes a lever ana narrates stories 
 to emphasizs his monitions. 
 
 Recently Professor Young nas noted several similarities between 
 Chaucer’s plan of the "Canteroury Tales" and Sercambi's "Novelie". The 
 "framework" of the latter is composed of a collection of stories re- 
 counted on a pilgrimage. A number of men and women from different Talks 
 of life decide to leave Lucca during the pestilence. They accordingly 
 meet in the church of Santa Maria to receive communion. Upon the 
 suggestion of a prominent citizen, Aluisi, that they choose one from the 
 group to whom they can pay reverence and obedience, who will control 
 their pleasures, plan the itinerary, ana lead them on the long joumsy. 
 

 
 
 
 
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 the groqp immediately elects Aluisi as the leader. They acquiesce in 
 his request for mon~y ana at once raise a purse of three thousand florins 
 for expenses and promise to give more if they have need of a larger &- 
 mount. A treasurer and a steward are appointed by the leader; and the 
 daily observances of' the offices of the church and daily amusements of 
 songs and discourses are planned by Aluisi. Sercamui is to be the official 
 story teller. They visit nearly a hundred towns in going around the 
 southern part of Italy and northward along the east coast, ana back again 
 to Lucca. In some cities they linger a night, in otxxer citieo, several 
 nights. They travel on foot, the most of the way, but by water in the 
 vicinity of Venice, and perhaps in wagons from Ferrara to Fr&ncolino. 
 
 The story telling takes place on the road or in inn yards or gardens of 
 the towns. The local color appears in the stories; for example, at 
 Rome the stories are of the Roman history; around Venice, they are of 
 Venetian subjects; and on the way to Verona, the tales are of Veronese 
 life. 
 
 In comparing the "Hovelle" and the "Canterbury Tales" Professor 
 Young finds the following five similar features. The group of pilgrims 
 in each, a happy miscellaneous company, foregather in a church or an 
 inn. The second similarity is the leader. Each is appointed by the 
 pilgrims and has many like activities. Harry Hailey, having ofiered 
 his service to the Canterbury pilgrims, is accepted as their leader; 
 
 Aluisi, having suggested that a leader be chosen, is elected for that 
 office. In calling their speakers they frequently mention the towns 
 that they pass, for example, Harry Bailey says, 
 
 "Sey forth thy tale, and tarie nat the tyme, 
 
 Lo Depiord.' and it is half-way pryme. 
 

 
 
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- 46 - 
 
 and 
 
 Lo Grenewich, ther laany a shrewe is mine; " 
 
 "Lo.' Eouchestre stant hear faste ‘by. 1 " 
 
 They both comment occasionally upon the tales, adding a human touch 
 to the pilgrimage. The third point of similarity is the activities of 
 the pilgrims on the journey. Chaucer's "links" give the clash of per- 
 sonality in vital and. inevitable humor; Sercainbi's "intermezzo" pro- 
 vides only a lifeless parallel. The fourth mark of resemblance is the 
 application of the tales to the pilgrims. One of the many examples of 
 this is the remark o; the most at the end of the Physician's Tale, 
 
 "This was a fals cnerl and a fals justyse.' 
 
 As shamful deeth as xierte may devyse 
 Come to thise juges ana hir aavocats.' " 
 
 The fifth point is the similarity of the narrators. In the "ITovelle" 
 the author tells all the stories, out rrany members of the group give 
 ether recitations when they are called upon by the leader. In Chaucer's 
 ■,vork the pilgrims recount the stories. Thus the "framework" of the 
 "Canterbury Tales" has resemblances in that of the "ITovelle ". 
 
 It seems that the English poet las set aside his "Legend of Good 
 Women" which is less vivid and less varied than his above mentioned 
 poem in order to write a greater story in "framework". He has chosen a 
 pilgrimage as his scene. Having lived in London and Greenwich, he, 
 no doubt, had seen many pilgrims setting out on a pilgrimage. His fre- 
 quent trips to the continent had acquainted him with roads over which 
 they vended their way. The night before they start on their visit to 
 the shrine of Thomas a Lecket, the thirty pilgrims including Chaucer 
 meet at the Tabard Inn in Southwark. This varied class, meeting as 
 
- 49 - 
 
 equals, is nade -up of a Enight , a Squire, a Yeoman, a Prioress, a Run 
 (the Prioress' ' chap le yne '),' with her three priests, a honk, a Friar, 
 a Merchant, a clerk of Oxford, a Man of lew, a Franklin, a Kaberdasli- 
 er, a Carpenter, a Weaver, a Dyer, an Upholsterer, a Cook, a Shipman, 
 a Doctor, a Wife of Bath, a Parson, a Plowman, a Miller, a Manciple, 
 a Reeve, a Summoner, and a Pardoner. Upon the suggestion of the Host, 
 Barry Bliley, tney ail agree to tell each two tales going and two com- 
 ing in order to enliven the journey. This plan would make one hundred 
 and twenty tales besides the tales by the additional member, the Canon's 
 Yeoman. The infernal remarks by the pilgrims, the host, and Chaucer 
 would form the links. During their journey of three days ana a half 
 numerous comments on the stories, roads, and amusements of the night 
 would naturally take place. 
 
 The original plan was evidently modified, for we have ten "frag- 
 ments" containing in all tv/enty-four tales. Of these, twenty-one are 
 complete, and the Tale of the Cook and of the Squire and "Sir Taopas" 
 are incomplete. Out of the thirty pilgrims, who leave Soufcu.ark, only 
 twenty-one toll stories, for Chaucer tells two and the Canon's Yeoman, 
 who joins them at BOghton under Blee, tells one. 
 
 The spirit of travel and of holiday unifies the "Canterbury Ikies", 
 in April prelude in the Prologue breathes the springtime atmosphere 
 which is sustained and felt not only in the merry descriptions of the 
 types and the individual pilgrims but also in the tales they tell. 
 
 The pilgrimage is provided with a Host who is an excellent one to pre- 
 serve unity among the story tellers, • He is large, handsome, jovial, 
 and fears nooody. His tact and discretion help him in the most serious 
 social difficulties. Being the keeper of an inn, he is well acquainted 
 
-5Q- 
 
 with all classes of men. He Holds himself neither above i.or below 
 their morals. Once in the course of the journey his own swearing 
 brings upon him the reproof of the Parson, Nevertheless, he clearly 
 discerns the inconsistency between the religious profession and the 
 practice of the Monk. With his ‘quick wit and tolerably vide sympathies 
 he is an interested listener to the numerous stones different in sub- 
 ject and in key. When he sees that tne sto.ies are too tedious for 
 his company, he interrupts, for example, he expresses his weariness at 
 the end of Chaucer's "Sir Thopas". He ices not hesitate to admonish the 
 Clerk to tell a tale that will not make them go to sleep. At times 
 he feels it is duty to reprove the drunken Miller and to avert a 
 quarrel between the Friar and the Summoner. Again the Host rides about 
 forcing his hearty and sometimes boisterous ranner to irritate some 
 pilgrim into revolt, for each nas agreeu. that tne one who revolts is to 
 pay the entire expenses of the pilgrimage. The Host does not always 
 control affairs. There are occasional comments by the pilgrims concern- 
 ing the stories ana quarrels. These give rise to new groups of tales 
 not anticipated by the Host. Then the arrival of the Canon's Yeoman 
 furnishes a motive for a story. Thus the Host, a "dynamic agent" and 
 the life ana spontaneous humor of the pilgrims link the stories into 
 a definite unity. 
 
 The coherence and incoherence of the "Canterbury Tales" are 
 brought about by varied devices. In the Prologue the arrangement of 
 the description is determined by no fixed principle. Chaucer merely 
 employe his material so as to best portray the personal appearance of 
 the pilgrims including the striking and representative details of 
 drs«e, equipment, and bearing; and the inner character of each. 
 

 
 
 
 
51- 
 
 After the reader haB been introduced to the characters ana has been 
 informed concerning the plans cf the pilgrimage, the scene corues to a 
 close ■until morning. Then the company ride forth to the watering of St. 
 Thomas and the Knight chosen by lot is to tell the first story. Thus 
 the Prologue passes directly into the Knight's Tale. The "fragments" 
 that follow are not connected into a coherent whole. The different 
 manuscripts arrange them in different ways. It is thought that Chaucer 
 had made more than one tentative arrangement or that he never deciaed 
 upon any arrangement. Editors nave settled the matter accoruing to 
 indications of time and place. The present preference is for A C B ^ 
 
 B ^ D E F G H This would group in A: the Tales of the Knight, 
 
 The Miller, the Beeve, ana the Cook; in C: the tales of the Physician 
 
 and the Pardoner; in the tales of the Shipman, the Prioress, 
 
 Sir Thopas, Melibeus, the Monk, and the Nun's Priest; in D: the tales 
 
 of the Wife of hath, the Friar, and the Summoner; in E: the tales of 
 
 the Clerk ana the Merchant; in F: the tales of the Squire, and the 
 Franklin; in G: the tales of the Second Nun and the Canon's Yeoman; 
 in H: the tale of the Manciple; and in I: the tale of the Parson, be- 
 tween the Knight's tale and the Parson's tale there are eight gaps. 
 
 The links wnich do exist are of two kinds, headlink and end link. The 
 former prepares one for the following scory, ana the latter contains a 
 comment on the story preceding. A single link sometimes fulfils both 
 these functions. The links are responsible for these groups: the 
 Knight and the Miller, the Miller and the Beeve, the Beeve and the Cook, 
 the Shipman and the Prioress, the Prioress and Thopas, Thopas and 
 Melibeus, Melibeus and the Monk, the Monk ana the Nun's Priest, the 
 
 U) Wells, "A Manual of the Writings of Middle English", p.679 
 

 
 
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 the Pnysician and the Pardoner, the Wife of Bath and the Friar, the 
 Friar ana the Sumoner, the Clerk ana the Merchant, the Squire and 
 the Franklin, and the Second Nun and the Canon’s Yeoman. Each of the 
 following have only a headlink: the J&n of lew, the Squire, the Clerk, 
 and the I&inciple. These i^ave no headlink: the Doctor, the Wife of 
 Bath, and the Second Nun; these have no enalink: the Cook, the Paraon- 
 er, the Summoner, and the franklin. Some of the manuscripts have an 
 endlirk for the Nun’s Priest, and an epilogue for the 1-Iercnant and the 
 Pardoner. The em.link of the iv2an of law is usually known as the Ship- 
 man's Prologue. Setting asiae the disputed question of oraer we may 
 see that the separate stories are groped according to motifs. The 
 nature and the content of some sections of the tales are aue to tne 
 interplay of the personalities, the views, and the conduct of the 
 pilgrims reacting on one ar.otner. We cannot determine or need not de- 
 termine whether tne interplay of personalities drought about the motifs 
 or the latter produced the former. Only one of the outstanding motifs 
 we may consider now and omit the others until we take up the different 
 stories. 
 
 .Recently ah interesting basis of union ^ for several of the 
 tales has been observed by Professor Kittreage and Professor Iawrence. 
 They both have taken for the nexus of tneir proposed group a debate as 
 to which of two, the husband or the wife, should have the mastery. 
 
 But Professor Iawrence traces the beginning of the "ferriage Group" 
 much farther back in the "Canterbury Tales" tnan Professor Kit tr edge 
 does. The former introduces a prelude to tne aebate which involves 
 
 (l) Cf . Hinckley: P.H.L.A. Vol.25 pp. 292-305. The view is mere opposed. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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-53- 
 
 the "Melibeus ", the "Monk's Tale",, and the "Nun's Priest's Tale". The 
 remarks of the "Melibeus" on the theme of conjugal sovereignty specify 
 that the wife prevails upon the husband to give her control in domestic 
 affairs. Immediately the Host is reminded of a personal example and 
 he tells of his experience with his shrewish wife. This is followed 
 by the Monk's trageaies of Virginia. Since the Monk neglects to take 
 the "implied challenge" of tne cost, tne Nun's Priest accepts it in 
 his tale when he narrates the tragedy oi the husband due to the wife's 
 counsel. At this point of tne preliminary discussion of marriage 
 sovereignty. Professor Kittredge's "Marriage Group" begins,^ And so 
 we may now continue with his possible theory. 
 
 The Wife of Hath in her Prologue ana Tare takes a "fling" at the 
 clerk when she emphatically asserts that women should have sovereignty 
 over their husbands. While the Priar ana the Suramoner engage in a 
 comic quarrel, the Clerk is wrapped in serious thought. The renearsing 
 of the Wife of Path's tribulations in marriage which were not assuaged 
 in the least by her fifth husband a cleric, have insulted the clerk. 
 
 Ann the longer he waits to defend his class, the more incensed he 
 becomes. The quarrel ended, the Clerk tactfully rebukes the Wife's 
 conduct and her views witn the story of Gnselda’s humble and submissive 
 life in her home. All the irony that he can apply, he weaves into his 
 plea that wives should rule their nusbands and make tnem miserable. The 
 ball begins to roll, before it stops, the Merchant takes a hanu. With 
 stinging irony he utters views which are antithetical to mose of the 
 Wife of hath. Having been called on to say something of love tne 
 Squire begins his tale of pure romance but does not finish it. Just 
 
 (l) Kittredge: chancer ana His Poetry pp. 185 ff. 
 

 
 
 
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 what would nave been tne outcome we are left to imagine. The next one , 
 
 though, who again definitely takes up the aeoate is the Franklin. In 
 
 his tale it is obvious to the pilgrims that he has thought out some 
 
 clear refutations. That "women ao not desire to he constrained as 
 
 thralls" alludes to the Prologue and the Tale of tne Wife of hath; that 
 
 "love is a thing of free spirit and that women naturally love liberty" 
 
 refer to the Clerk's theory; that "he who is patient in love nas the 
 
 greatest advantage" recalls tne story of GriselcLa; and that "there are 
 
 Joys, ease, and prosperity between husband and wife" suggests the 
 
 Merchant 's praise of marriage. Finally the franklin concludes not only 
 
 his discussion of the subject but the whole debate with tnis view* there 
 
 should be mutual forbearance and perfect gentl9 love between husband 
 
 (1) 
 
 and wife. Thus ends one of the acts in Chaucer's "Human Comedy". 
 
 The length and proportion of the separate stories are determin- 
 ed by people of varied taste and yet at times the crowd is allowed to 
 decide upon the end oi the tales. We have already noted interruptions 
 when the pilgrims have become impatient with the narrations. This real- 
 istic method of adjusting the proportion is an interesting device to be 
 considered later in our discussion. Let us turn to the Prologue at the 
 present. 
 
 In this Chaucer draws a vivid realistic picture of nis numerous 
 characters without becoming monotonous. The minor characters such as 
 the Ifun ana the three pxiests are briefly mentioned in a line or two, 
 while the Knight, the Monk, the Friar, ana the Host are more fully 
 described. With the description of the Pardoner Chaucer takes leave 
 of his pilgrims and returns to his Tabard Inn. urieily ana yet artfully 
 
 (l) Kittredge: Chaucer and Eis Poetry, pp. 209-210. 
 

 
 
 
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-55- 
 
 the poet relates tne Host's preposition for the journey. After the 
 guests assent to this plan,, they sleep in preparation for a long pil- 
 grimage. The next morning as soon as the Knight is designated, by lot 
 to teil the first story, the Prologue ends, being artistic in its 
 proportion throughout. The introduction of forty lines includes the 
 season, the place, ana the occasion for the assembling at the Thoard 
 Inn. Then follow the dramatic Characters as they appear on tne road 
 to Canterbury recounted in the next seven hundred and twenty lines 
 (40-760). The definite plans for tne ride ana the night's rest extends 
 rrom line 761 to line S21. Ana from line 822 to the closing line 900, 
 the poem relates the happenings of tne following morning, the early 
 departure of the pilgrims, ana the choosing of the lot. 
 
 Chaucer was thoroughly acquainted with various types of mediaeval 
 literature, ana, moreover, showed artistic skill in constructing them 
 for his individual pilgrims going to Canterbury. The company tell ooth 
 humorous ana serious narratives. We may not here analyze the plots of 
 all the tales; but we Shall treat representatives oi the romance of 
 chivalry, the lay, the exemplum, the fable, the fabliau and the miracles 
 of the virgin. In these we nay note that Chaucer in handling his plots 
 is far aoove a crowd of miner poets who have dealt with similar themes. 
 There is great reason to conclude this not only from what has already 
 seen mentioned concerning Chaucer's borrowed and original material in 
 the vision poems and "Troilus anu. Crisoyde'J but from some evidences wuich 
 we Shall now produce. 
 

 
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-56' 
 
 The Knight's Tala 
 
 The "Knight'a Tale" Chaucer borrowed mainly from boccaccio'a 
 "Teseide" and. slightly from Statius' "Thebaid". Just a very few of the 
 descriptive passages are from the latter. Though the plot resembles 
 the former , the presentation is in many respects different. Let us ex- 
 amine wherein Chaucer has made his changes. Mr. A. W. Ward has found 
 that the English poet has condensed the Italian story about one fifth. 
 
 The long romantic epic of 10,176 lines is reduced to a tale of 2,250 
 lines. Of these, 270 lines are directly translated from the Italian 
 poem, 374 lines are a general imitation of "Teseide", and 132 more ex- 
 hibit a slight likeness to it. Therefore about one third of the "Knight's 
 Hale" is indebted to the original model. 
 
 Let us turn now to the English poem and in some detail unfold the 
 plot which has undergone interesting modifications, omissions, and transi- 
 tions. 
 
 When Theseus, a conqueror, returns to Athens with his queen, Eypo- 
 lita, and his sister-in-law, Emily, he is met by laiies dressed in black 
 who bewail their grievous fata. Creon, lord of the city of Thebes, will 
 not allow them to burn or to bury the bodies of their slaughtered hus- • 
 oands. Theseus, having .promised to avenge these ladies, leaves his 
 queen and Emily to dwell in their new home while he goes to Thebes. 
 
 After Creon bias been slain, the pillagers ransack the heap of dead bodies, 
 in order to strip them of their armour, and find at the very bottom, 
 pierced through with many a bloody wound, two cousins, one named Arcite, 
 the other Palamon. These two knights are Carried to the tent of Theseus 
 and are sent by him to Athens to dwell in prison for the rest of their 
 days. Theseus then rides home. In a tower with daily woe the prison- 
 

 
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- 57 - 
 
 ers pass their hours. One Jfe.y morning Bnily, fairer than the lily, 
 is wandering in the garden adjoining the tower. Phlamon, who i9 pac- 
 ing to and fro in his room, pauses at his window. When he "beholds 
 Emily, he cries out so grievously that Arcite rushes quickly to his 
 side to comiort his "beloved friend. Arcite, too, cast9 his eyes on 
 Emily. And with that look he is wounded as sorely as Palamon. Hearing 
 Arcite say that he wishes to see her, Palamon turns fiercely to his 
 friend to remind him of their vow that never until death would one hin- 
 der the other in love. Arcite replies that Palamon 's affection is on- 
 ly of a goddess "but his is of a living creature. Duke Perithous 
 while visiting Theseus asks to have his friend, Arcite, released. Af- 
 ter a definite understanding that he is never for a moment to "be seen 
 again in Theseus' country, Arcite speeds homeward, exiled for evermore 
 out of the country in which his xaay dwells. Daily he mourns his 
 "banishment from her. Palamon thinks his condition sadder for Arcite 
 might make war upon Theseus and tnere’oy win his lady, "but there is no 
 hope for him in prison. Arcite grows lean, sallow, ana sadder. Ho 
 man would recognize him. it- ter a year or two of pain and woe. Mercury 
 appears to him in a dream and says, 
 
 "T* Athene ss shaltou wende; 
 
 Ther is thee shapen of thy wo an ende. " 
 
 Arcite, convinced "by his mirror that he would not "be known in Athens, 
 disguises himself as a poor labourer and returns to the forbidden city. 
 After serving as a page in Theseus’ home he is made a squire. In the 
 seventh year of his imprisonment and on the third night of !.'b,y, Phlamon 
 with his friend's help escapes from prison while the jailer sleeps. 
 
 To a grove he flues to await the dark of the next night when he can go 
 
- 58 - 
 
 to Arcite to beg him to make war upon These-u.3. The lark is saluting 
 the gray morning as Arc it e enters the grove singing of May, of woe, 
 and of Emily. From the bush which has concealed him Phlamon, shaking 
 with ire, rusr.es forth to ask Arcite to choose either death or the 
 abandonment of Emily. Immediately Arcite draws his sworn. He vows that 
 he would never allow Ihlamon to go from the woods if he were not sick 
 and mad for love am weaponless. Thun he adds that he will bring 
 Palamon meat and drink and bedding this day ana a knightly armour the 
 next morning tor their duel. At the appointed hour they begin the 
 thrusting os their swords. For a wondrous time they fight with blood 
 up to their anicle3. On this May morning Theseus with his queen and 
 Enily go hunting in the grove. Soon Theseus comes upon the knights. 
 
 "Ho", he says as he rides between them. At once Palamon relates why 
 both combatants should meet immediate death. Tnen the women begin to 
 weep. Thereupon Theseus forgives the knights on condition that they, 
 fifty weeks from this day, bring a hundred knignts armed fully for the 
 lists to contest Emily. Theseus is to be the impartial juige. To the 
 victor he will grant the lady. In the meanwhile he has built an amphi- 
 theatre with temples of Mars, of Diana, and of Venus richly painted with- 
 in. On the appointed day, or tne Sunday night beiore dawn, Tklamon hears 
 the lark sing as he goes to the temple of Venus in the lists. There 
 before Venus he asks not for victory out lor his lauy's love. Tne 
 statue of Venus snakes am makes a sign to signify tnat his prayer is 
 accepted. Though it snows delay, he knows tnat his boon is to be grant- 
 ed. later Bnily goes to Diana and begs that if sne must nave one of 
 the knights that she oe given the one who desires her most. One of the 
 fires on the altar is instantly quenched, then relighted; the other one 
 

 
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 is quenched but with a whistling sound just as wet brands make when 
 burning. At the ends of the brands run out bloody drops. Diana then 
 tells her that to one of the knights she will be wedded. Arcite goes 
 to the temple of Mars to offer his sacrifice. After reminding Mars 
 that he, a god, once had sorrow in his neart when his love of Venus wa3 
 discoverer by Vulcan, Arcite begs Mars to have pity on his grief. He 
 asks for victory and nothing more. A murmuring full low and dim say3, 
 "Victory". Saturn appears to Venus oo tell her not to weep, that she 
 snail keep her promise to Palamon. At the hour for the tournament, 
 wnen the spectators are seated, Arcite with bankers red rides into the 
 lists from the ^est side through one gates of I.krs; and. at the same 
 moment Palamon with banners white rides from tne east sire through the 
 gate of Venus, hre the sun go©3 to the west Palamon feels the sword 
 of King Kmetrius bite deep his fiesn. Theseus cries, "Ho. 1 Arcite of 
 Thebes shall have Bully", The trumpeters herald the victory of Arcite, 
 But when Arcite removes nis helmet to see his lady, a miracle takes 
 place. His horse leaps aside. Arcite is pitched upon tne top of his 
 head. His breast swells. The pain in nis neart increases each moment. 
 Arcite must die. lie sends for Bnily and Palamon. Theseus orders 
 Arcite ’s sepulcnre to be made in the grove wnere Arcite sang of his woe 
 ana of his love. There his bier is burnt to cola ashes. After a few 
 years of mourning Palamon and Bnily are Called to parliament by Theseus. 
 Theseus says, 
 
 "The grete tounes see we wane and wenia, 
 
 Then may ye see that al thing hath ende. " 
 
 Ann why do we still have gloom? The good Arcite, tne flower of 
 chivalry, is departed with honor. Why are his cousin and his wife in 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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-60- 
 
 discontent concerning his welfare? Then he advises tnat the two 
 sorrows "be made one perfect ana everlasting joy. To Einily he says, 
 
 “Lend me your hand", and to Palamon, "Come near and taice year laay by 
 tne hand." Immediately in parliament follows the "bond of matrimony. 
 
 Chancer has converted the mediaeval pseudo-epic into this 
 mediaeval romance which. has lost some of the stateliness of the eanier 
 poem. The action is more rapid. In order to produce tins kind of nar- 
 rative he reverses the order of some cf tne episodes and omits certain 
 needless explanations and descrip-cions. The return of Theseus with 
 his queen, Hypolita, and sister-in-law, Elmily; the suppliant ladies 
 of Thebes; the finding of Palamon and Arcite among the dead bodies; 
 the lifelong imprisonment cf the knights, ana the infatuation cf the 
 two prisoners for Emily are all recounted in 200 lines by Caaucer. 
 Palamon not Arc ice sees hmily first. Arcite does not wanner disguised 
 as a page beiore he comes to Theseus* home. Of the knightly companions- 
 at-arms of Iklamon and Arcite, Chaucer banishes all out two, Lycurgus 
 and Einetrius. The long series of minor combats he omius am yet des- 
 cribes vividly tne com ubiou oj. the miles. He passes briefly over tne 
 triumph, does not mention the weaning of Arcite ana Emily, and leaves 
 out a display of great generosity cn the part of Arcite when Snily and 
 Palamon are at his bedside. The funeral is also abridged. Thus the 
 English poet snows an independence in his introduction of changes into 
 his romance. 
 
 besides pruning the tedious and monotonous material t-.at does 
 not add to the development of the plot, Chaucer has added much new 
 material. In this particular the poet has liberated himself from the 
 "thraldom" of literary influence more in this poem than in his earlier 
 

 
 
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 writings. In a discussion of the new elements in the Ihlamon and Ar- 
 cite story Professor Cummings has compiled the following examples^: 
 the potency of May over Palamon and Arcite; the growing ^ealousy of the 
 friends; the appearance of Mercury in a dream to counsel Arcite; the 
 intervention of Saturn so that both Venus and wiars may carry out their 
 promises to their servants; the unsuccessful efforts of leechcraft to 
 save the wounded victor; the swooning of Suily when Arcite dies; and 
 the parliament at Athens held to decide Theban "obeisaunce " and 
 "alliaunce" with certain countries. These elements., however, are very 
 essential to the weaving of tne romance as we may later note in our dis- 
 cussion. 
 
 It is true that Chaucer has omitted a number of passages that 
 are not inartistic and has inserted seme that are less artistic. When 
 Palamon stands by his iron barred window and beholds his beautiful 
 lady, the scene is "almost crude". Boccaccio has Efaily wandering in 
 the garden making a garland when her sweet song attracts the ear of Ar- 
 cite. Chaucer has a friend of Palamon help him to escape from prison. 
 
 No previous provision is made for such a friend. Boccaccio prepares 
 for assistance in the escape by telling us that the prisoners were giv- 
 en attendance of many servitors. 
 
 The technique in Chaucer’s plot is in many respects superior to 
 that of Baccaccic. Sully who is to be the wife of Phlamon is seer, 
 first by him. Chaucer’s sense of poetical justice leads him to this 
 arrangement. Ihlamcn is not apprised of Arcite’s days of freedom by 
 
 (l) Cummings, "Indebtedness of Chaucer to Boccaccio," Ch. VI. 
 

 
 
 
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- 62 - 
 
 a friend visiting him in prison. For Palamon's information concerning 
 Arcite Chaucer chose a happy device. Palamon is hidden in a bush when 
 Arcite wanders through the grove singing of the month of ?>iay, of his woe, 
 and of his love. The dramatic action of Palamon in his announcement of 
 his presence and of his threat is followed by Arcite 's avowal to bring 
 knightly armour to his friend for their duel. The technique is further 
 perfected by Theseus 1 pardoning of the knights and planning for the 
 tournament. In the temples which he erects tor the appointed day, the 
 prayers are answered in such an artistic manner that the climax of the 
 plot is suggested. 
 
 This transformation of episodes, introduction of new ones, and 
 rearrangement of old ones has, moreover, altered the atmosphere of 
 Boccaccio's poem. The pseudo-classical atmosphere gives way to a 
 romantic atmosphere enriched by realistic touches. Mr. Bobertson points 
 out the following ear-marks of realism: Theseus' battle with Creon; 
 the sacking of Theees; the fetters around the shins of Palamon; Arcite *s 
 disguise first as a page and second as a squire; the armed combat of 
 Palamon and Arcite in the grove; the description of the knights in the 
 tournament; and the preparation for the combat. To these Professor 
 Cummings adds a few others. The mural paintings of the temple of liars 
 present the mediaeval phenomena of rapine in which thousands are slain; 
 towns are sacked, ships are burnt, and children are devoured by swine. 
 B&lamon ' 3 knights are arrayed in the style of harness according to their 
 own opinions. The spectators at the tournament are of the mediaeval 
 type. The heralds proclaim the victory. Arcite is treated by the prac- 
 tice of leechcraft. Parliament is convened by the ruler, Theseus. 
 

 
 
 
 
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 Judging from all these evidences of realism the atmosphere of the p-lot 
 depends not so much upon the elements cf pseudo-classicism or mediaeval 
 metrical romance as upon life itself. 
 
 Thus the Knight, who lias seen many cities and has lived in the 
 dreams of chivalry, tells us a romantic tale. He chooses for his theme 
 the strife between brotherhood and love. Palamon and Arciue were 
 friends from early childhood but in prison they fall in love with the 
 same lady and so become enemies until .Arc ite re-knits the friendship 
 on his death bed. The spirit of romance thus unifies the delightful 
 plot of the "Knight's Tale". Theseus, a chivalrous conqueror, while 
 returning with his bride. Queen Hypolita, lends a kind ear to the grief 
 stricken widows. He chivalrously seeks a revenge for them. When Theseus 
 comes upon the knights dueling in the grove, he quickly decides to have 
 a tournament for the choosing of linily. It is he who makes the elaoorate 
 preparations for the combat. He commands that only spears be used and 
 that the wounded be carried off the field. He is not only the impartial 
 judge, but the one to give Jimily to the winner. Whan Arcice's death has 
 been mourned many cays, Theseus summons kmily and Palamon to parliament 
 where he gives Sicily to Palamon. Thus Theseus unifies the plot in directing 
 the action. 
 
 The tone cf tenderness and love is further sustained by the lifey 
 day setting, Hnily, a fair vision, does not spesk, except in prayer, 
 but plays the part of a bright snining star. Her appearance in the 
 garden sheds upon each of the lovers her supreme radiance. The love of 
 such a one might quickly ana easily break the life-long friendship of 
 two knights. It is on a May morning that she goes into the garden to 
 gather white and red flowers for a garland. There in her beauty the 
 

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 friends espy her. incite is singing a song of the month of Ivhy while 
 he passes the bush in which Palamon is hidden. He cornes thither to make 
 a garland of the sprays in the grove. The tournament is held on a May 
 aay, fifty weeks from the knights' first combat in the grove. When Ar- 
 cite is on his bier, a gar lane, of green is on his head. ?hus with these 
 occasional touches of May the tone is sustained, from the beginning to 
 the close of the tale. Chaucer nas fashioned an artistic unity through 
 these simple and natural devices. 
 
 This poem of chivalrous ideals lived by knights and ladies in 
 an almost fanciful world colored, by a few pictures of realism is pre- 
 sented by many rich and variea pageants. The episodes are beautifully 
 knit together. There is no superfluous material. With one exception 
 Chaucer has provided for the development of his plot. The reader, per- 
 haps, may be surprised to read that Palamon' s friend aided him in his 
 escape where there nad been no previous suggestion of his friend. This 
 ' point, however, is not one of prime importance. In all the other 
 episoo.es we are charmed by the smoothness of the connecting links. 
 Theseus, whom we have noted as a factor employed to unify the whole 
 plot, is in the very first pageant. Into the city with aim comes Snily 
 to live in his home. The widows beseech Theseus to succor them. This 
 provides for the finding of the two knights of Thebes ana their im- 
 prisonment in his tower adjoining his garden in which Palamon ana 
 Arcite behold ilnily, Duke Perithous comes to visit Theseus and so be- 
 ing a friend is grantee his request. Arcite, having cnanged because 
 of years of grief can easily disguise himself. Palamon, of course, 
 does not recognize nis voice which is changed but does recognize his 
 vOe which he sings. Then fellows their meeting and the courtesy ren- 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 dered to each other. Theaeus was accustomed to hunt in this grove at 
 tills hour. His chivalrous spirit in dealing with the bereaved ladies 
 in the first scene prepares for his attitude here. The granting of the 
 prayers offered to Venus, Diana, and Mars is very significant. They 
 suggest the unravelling of the complications in the plot. Venus shows 
 delay in the giving of the boon. Diana has one of the fires quenched 
 and then relighted, while the other light is quenched Just as the brand 
 drops blood. I'<hrs gives a dim low murmur "Victory". Again a prophecy 
 is revealed by the opponents as they enter the lists. Arcite is men- 
 tioned first and so the outcome of the tournament is anticipated by 
 the reader. At this point we expect Saturn to fulfill his promise to 
 Venus. It is not the intervention but the nature of it that surprises 
 us. The subsequent action follows the mortal wound of Arcite until we 
 come to the last episode. Theseus who has been the motive force in the 
 plot once mere takes charge Of the situation. Thus the episodes pass 
 before us showing the growing enmity of the friends, Tklamon, the 
 dreamer, and. Arcite, the man of action. It is the latter who determines 
 the destiny. Pal&mon drifts with the tide. Arcite on his deatn bed 
 betroths Scily to his cousin. At last friendship wins its triunph over 
 Jealousy. The reality o: the mystery of life 'with its tragedy and its 
 Patnos is opened to us by this sequence of pictures. 
 
 YThat Boccaccio has told in his epic poem is condensed and changed 
 by lhaucer into excellently proportioned episodes. The introduction 
 of the English poem is suggestive but not drawn out too extensively. 
 
 In the first 200 lines we meet Theseus, Snily, Pklamon, and Arcite 
 and are made acq^ainte.l. witn tneir dominant characteristics which mould 
 the rest of the tale. The need and the preparations for the tourna- 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
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 ment are quickly and viviuiy descrioeo. as I pa ive indicated in the 
 synopsis of the tale. After the climax Chaucer takes but a few lines 
 to tell of the funeral. The philosophy of life in Theseus' speech leads 
 up directly to his climax,, that mourning should end and joy should be- 
 gin. 
 
 After the pilgrims have listened to the Knight's interesting 
 romance they turn an ear to the "Squire's Tale" expecting anotr.er 
 fascinating cnivalrous romance well proportioned, unified, and coherent. 
 The Squire, living in the future, intends to accomplish greater deeds 
 than the Knight. His life, like his tale, has charm because of its in- 
 completeness. Unr orvunately we cannot compare the two plots for the 
 tale of the Squire is abruptly ended after it runs thus far: 
 
 The Tartar king on his wondrous steed of brass can fly in the 
 air as high as an eagle and in a day arrive wherever he aesires. He 
 has been given on his birthday other magic gifts. There is a ring wnich 
 enables one to understand the voice of all the birds and to converse 
 with them. The magic mirror reveals all the deeds of friends or foes. 
 The magic sword can pierce the strongest armor ana nas power to heal 
 or cure. In the second part of the tale, the Tartar King's daughter, 
 Canacee, while wearing the ring learns a tale of the falcon's unhappy 
 love. There are to be great 'wire. But here the tale breaks off. 
 
 The Franklin's Tale 
 
 The "Franklin ' s Tale" is not only an important part of the 
 marriage group as we have indicated aoove, but an artistic transition 
 in the "Canterbury Tales". The Franklin, a prosperous country land- 
 lord, admits at the close of the "Squire's Tale" that he regrets that 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 his son has not the "gentillesse" of the noble Squire. But the Host 
 becoming impatient cries out, "A straw for your 'gentillesse ' .' dome on 
 and tell us a story”. Pernaps the Host was still thinking of the huge 
 forfeit agreed upon before the Pilgrims left the Tabard Inn and was 
 trying to irritate the Franklin so that he ’would refuse to take part 
 now. To the Host's request the Franklin cordially assents and snows 
 no rebellion. 
 
 It would seem from his tale that he, if received into the 
 Squire's company, would offend none of a refined taste. He knows a 
 type which the gentlefolk would enjoy and so proceeds with the lay. In 
 fact the lay differed from the fabliau, another popular form of mediaeval 
 literature, in being intended especially for the chivalric class ^ / '. 
 
 In the twelfth century a chronicler speaks of the "aventurae nob ilium" 
 and "fabellae ignobilium". This distinction is due to the character 
 of the public entertained by each, and to the origin. After the Norman 
 conquest many French lays were popular in England. later there were a 
 few Breton "lais". In two of these, "Sir Orfeo" and "Iai le Freine ", 
 there is an excellent definition of the lay which will enable us to 
 see why this type was thus received by the noble class. There were 
 some lays of weal, some of woe, some of ioy and mirth, some of treachery 
 and of guile, some of old adventure, and ribauldry, and many of faery 
 and of all things that men see, but most of love. England had an example 
 of nearly every class. Our Franklin selects one of woe ana of love for 
 this occasion. 
 
 There was a knight in Armorica, modern Brittany, who loved his 
 
 (l) Schofield, "History of English Literature", p. 180. 
 
- 66 - 
 
 beautiful lady so much that he refrained from telling her hi3 '.roe and 
 distress. She, touched by his obedience and worthiness, agreed to take 
 him for her husband and her lord. He asserted that he would not take 
 upon him any mastery against her will nor show and jealousy; but would 
 follow and obey her will as any lover should. She, upon seeing his 
 gentleness, uttered a wish that no strife or war should ever come be- 
 tween them. They lived two years and more in blissful wedlock — luring 
 which time their love grew stronger, for there was no claim of mastery 
 in the home — until the husband, Arrfcragus, felt called upon to go to 
 England to carry on war. While the knight was absent, Dorigen, his 
 wife, wept constantly for him. Her friends trying to comfort her in- 
 vited her to -.Talk with them along the sea snore. Hut as she watched 
 the ships on the waves, she would say, ” Is there no ship that will 
 cring home my lord?” She wished that all the black rocks in the sea 
 were sunk for his sake. The very rocks slew her heart. Seeing that this 
 was no diversion, the friends invited her to walk, play chess, and 
 dance in the garden. At one of the garden dances on the sixth of lay 
 there was a squire, young, strong, virtuous, rich, wise, and well be- 
 loved. It happened that this lusty squire, a servant to Venus, who 
 was called Aurelius, had long loved Dorigen. She knew it not. He in 
 
 dispair dared not tell her his sorrow and yet he could not keep it out 
 of his songs. Nevertheless, before the merry making ended, they en- 
 tered into friendly discussions. To the persistent wooer Dorigen in 
 play replied that she would grant him her love if he would remove all 
 the rocks from the coast of .Brittany. Then answered Aurelius with a 
 sad heart that the feat was an impossibility. He invoked Lori Phoebus 
 to cast an eye of mercy upon him and send a flood that would cover the 
 

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- 69 - 
 
 highest rock in Brittany. His "brother, who knew of his suffering, 
 brought him to bed. Remembering that he had seen a book of natural 
 magic while he was at Orleans, he went to Aurelius' bed to tell him 
 of his plan. On the road to Orleans the brothers were met by a breton 
 clerk who already knew the purpose of their coming. The clerk, a 
 magician, took them home to supper. Beiore they dined, the magician 
 snowed them forest ana parks full of wild deer; knights jousting in 
 a plain, and his lady in a dance. But when he clapped his hands to- 
 gether, all his magic disappeared. After supper Aurelius agreed to 
 give the clerk one thousand pounds if b.9 would remove the rocks from 
 the coast of brittany. That night joy again filled Aurelius' heart. 
 
 When Aurelius knew that there was no obstacle — that the rocks no 
 longer were there--he fell down at his master's feet ana gave thanks 
 to his lord and to Venus. With heart full of dread he sought his 
 lady and reminded her of her promise in the garden. Tor a few days she 
 continued to weep and to wail. On the third night of her weeping 
 Ar\ir.,,gus ms told the cause of her sorrow. He immediately r eplied 
 that truth is the highest thing that man may keep. Paving advised her 
 to tell nobody of her adventure, he called a squire and a maiden to 
 take her to the garden. In the town before she came to the garden, 
 Aurelius met r.er and asked her where she was going. She sadly told 
 him that her husband bad budden her keep her promise. Aurelius marvelling 
 at the generosity of Arviragus refused to let her keep her pledge say- 
 ing that he would rather suffer woe than part the love of these two. 
 Together Bongen and Arvarugus lived happily the rest of their lives 
 and the former was true to the latter for evermore. The disappointed 
 suitor knowing that he would have to sell his heritage to pay his magician 
 

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 t old. the dark of his unhappy fate. The philosopher., however, hearing 
 the sorrow, answers.! that since both the knight and the squire had 
 shown gentleness, that ne too would do a gentle deed, and at once re- 
 lease him from the thousand pounds. Then the clerk rode away. Which 
 was the most liberal, think you? 
 
 Chaucer’s opening lines in the prologue of tuis tale and the 
 setting suggest that the poet is to tell a Breton lay tut no lay, treat- 
 ing the subject thus, is extant. Moreover, there is such a variety 
 in the tone and spirit of the "Franklin's Tale" that it seems improb- 
 able that the lay has been derived from one source. Geoffrey of Mon- 
 mouth in his "Eistoria Begun Britannia^ has a slight hint for part of 
 the story but not for the plot. He records in book IS, chapters 13-15 
 that there is a British Chief tain Arv tragus who after a successful war 
 against the Honan general Claudius is granted the beautiful daughter of 
 Claudius. Together they live a happy married life. Nevertheless, 
 Geoffrey's account cannot be regarded as the source or the foundation 
 of the Breton lay. 
 
 There is a general likeness to Chaucer's lay in the lay of 
 "Equitan" by Marie de France. Equit&n has long loved a married woman 
 but Deing a friend of both the husband ana wife is not suspected. Ee 
 too dwells in Brittany and suffers because of his love-longing before 
 he tells the lady of his affection. Marie de France also relates a 
 parallel to the garden scene in the lay of "Ianval". Eere the roles 
 are reversed; the lady seeks the love of the knight. In the "Franklin’s 
 This", Dorigen is sorrowful because Arvoragus has not returned; in the 
 lay of "Ianval", Ienval grieves because he is far from his "amie". Both 
 Dorigen and Ianval are being cheered by their friends. A slighter 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
- 71 - 
 
 similarity is in her "Guildeluec and Guillia&um". Marie tells in it 
 the story of a distinguished knight of Brittany who leaves his happy 
 home to go to .England where he carries on war. His wife like Dorigen 
 grieves at her husband’s departure. 
 
 Another motive in Chaucer's lay — the fidelity to one's plighted 
 word — is frequently found, in the early tales of the Celts. In "Sir 
 Orfeo", a Midale English poem, which professes to be a Breton lay, the 
 harper in disguise plays so -sweetly before the king, who holds Eurydice 
 in his lani, that he is ofrered whatever he might wish. The harper 
 asks for return of his wife, Eurydice. The king at first objects, but 
 being reminded of his v?ora grants the request. 
 
 The evidences of these analogues are not much more convincing 
 than the following ones. Professor Skeat asserts that the ultimate 
 source is certainly Eastern; ana that we may be sure that Chaucer and 
 Boccaccio drev? their stories irom very similar sources. Proiessor 
 Bajna disagrees with. Professor Schofield's theory that the "Franklin's 
 Tale" ms derived from a Breton lay, and yet does not offer much con- 
 clusive evidence to prove that it is drawn from Boccaccio 's "Filocolo". 
 The Italian narrative recounts no long absence of the husband from his 
 home in Spain, Tarolfo, the passionate suitor, is promised the full 
 enjoyment of the wife 's love if he can make a garden bloom and bear 
 fruit in January. Hie lever wandering o . f on a journey through 
 Thessaly meets Tebano, an old herb-^-tner, who returns with him lO 
 his home to help him. !7ith a magic liquid scattered over the earth, 
 the field of January is converted by this magician, Tesano, into a 
 flowering meadow of May. Immeuia lely Tarolfo demands that his laay 
 keep her pledge. Her distress, the generous husband, lover, and 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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- 72 - 
 
 magician are all closely parallel to the closing verses of the "Franklin's 
 Tale. " 
 
 Chancer has applied tnese old stories of happy wedded life, the 
 opportune appearance of the enchanter, ana the fidelity to one's plight- 
 ed word in a most skilful manner to his own lay. He has joined these 
 three outstanding features into a unity though, perraps, not a harmon- 
 ious whole. Our imagination is suddenly checked in its delightful 
 Illusions for Chaucer's practical rexcarks quickly bring us to our 
 common sense. His lay, therefore, is not altogether a Breton romance. 
 
 At the very Beginning the poet relates the gentleness of tne knight to 
 his lady and the graciousness of the lady accepting the knight as her 
 husoand and her lord. But he inserts this sly remark, 
 
 "Of swich lordship as men han over hir wyves; " 
 insinuating that nobody can tell beiorehand or without personal experience 
 what his wedded life will be. By a stroke of a pen the courtly sentiment 
 is shattered by a bourgeois experience. True to knightly vows the hus- 
 band feels that he must go to seek in arms worship and honor. During his 
 absence Dorigen's friends know that her love of Arveragua is the cause 
 of her deep sorrow, 
 
 "For his absence wepeth sue and syketh. 
 
 As doon tnise noble wyves whan hem lyketh. " 
 
 This touch, of Chaucer's humor is excelled by the following reiaark address- 
 ea to the married members in the pilgrimage: 
 
 "Lerneth to suffre, or elles, so moot I goon. 
 
 Ye shul it lerne, wher-so ye wole or noon". 
 
 After Borigen has met Aurelius and nas promised him her love on condition 
 tmt ne perform the feat, she, recalling her husband's gentleness, is 
 

 
 
 
 
 
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 so grieved that she considers suicide., 
 
 "Hath ther not many a noble wyf , er this. 
 
 And cany a mayde y-slayn hir-self , alias.'" 
 
 Then she recalls a catalogue of women who died ratner than sully their 
 honor. She feels that death is the only thing that can now save her 
 from dishonor. Knowing that the rocks are removed, Dorigen is at last 
 unable to decide what course to pursue next. This makes the burden of 
 the problem fall upon Arviragus who has already promised to serve her 
 in his best way. He, therefore, generously sacriiicss his happy home 
 in order to let her keep her troth for he says, 
 
 "Trouthe is the hyeste thing that man may kepe". 
 
 Poor Dorigen had not designated the feat in the "Filoeolo, " which we 
 have already mentioned. The motive for setting that task would have 
 been prompted by selfishness. Just the mere beauty of the ^.rden would 
 have satisfied her own aesthetic taste. But she did ask to have the 
 rocks removed from the snore so that her husband's return voyage would 
 be safer. And now ner loyalty to Arviragus has become an instrument 
 against him. Only this attitude on the part of the husband can solve 
 Dorigen's trouble. Bis squire hearing of Arviragus ' gentleness re- 
 leases Dorigen, ana likewise the magician, hearing of the squire's 
 gentleness, releases the squire. Thus the motive for every important 
 act in this lay is gentleness. 
 
 The "Franklin's Tale" is coherently fashioned. The poet provides 
 for all the necessary links in the tale. The absence of the knight 
 brings on the sorrow of Dorigen. Her brooding over the wave-washed sea 
 vdiile she strolls with her friends causes her friends to arrange another 
 form of entertainment. The dance in the garden offers a pleasant diver- 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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-74- 
 
 si on for her. At this dance a former lover, the squire, makes hia 
 sorrow known to the "beautiful wife. Her playful promise to him sends 
 him a way in despair. Only a magical feat can save him now. Then 
 follows Dorigen's plaints to Fortune patterned after a mediaeval con- 
 vention.^ Perhaps this is an unnecessari ly long digression. At last 
 "because of her unresourcefulness her husband has to decile for her. 
 Following the unique account of the generosity of the three main actors 
 involved in Dorigen's promise to Aurelius is this charming ending, 
 
 "Which was the moste free, as thinketh you?" 
 
 It was a fond amusement of the Middle Ages to discuss love and end it 
 with a question. (2) 
 
 Hie trouveres frequently held assemblies known as 
 "Puys d 'amour". Such discussions on the subtler subject of love occur 
 in Boccaccio's "Filocolo". Filocolo's opinion on the first of thirteen 
 "Questioni d'Amore" occupies most ot the fourth book which we have cit9d 
 above in Chaucer's sources. 
 
 The poem is well proportioned. Briefly but vividly the setting 
 of the scene is pictured. In the first 264 verses the story leads up 
 to the promise of POrigen to Aurelius. Then the next third of the lay 
 reveals the despair and sorrow of the squire, and the work of the 
 magician. Since Dorigen's grief is the main part of the plot, it 
 occupies most of the last third. Just a few verses tell of the gentle- 
 ness so that the reader may have the joy of deciding the question. 
 
 (1) Chaucer draws his examples of la-ies who have died rather than sully 
 their honor from Jerome's "Epistola adversus Jovinianum". 
 
 (2) lie i Is on, William, Allan, "Hie Origins and Sources of the Court of 
 Love", Harvard Studies and Notes in Philology and Literature, Vol.VI. 
 pp. 245-248. 
 

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 ,! The Shipman ' s Tale" 
 
 Having "brought on the rebuke of the Parson by his oaths the host 
 replies that he smells a "Idler in the wind". Then the Shipman,, who 
 fears that the Parson will proceed to render a sermon, volunteers to 
 tell a tale which will ring so merrily that it will waken all the com- 
 pany. 
 
 Chaucer hem adapts the fabliau, a popular form of the middle 
 ages. Though his tala is similar to the one in the "Decameron", his 
 setting seems to indicate that the tale was derived from a French 
 fabliau. In the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries many 
 fabliaux were conp>ose& in the north part of France, and doubtless their 
 narrative art did influence Chaucer. For he, likewise, made his "Ship- 
 man's Tale" brief, interesting, and comic as we may note in this 
 synopsis: 
 
 There was a rich Merchant dwelling at Saint Denis who had a 
 beautiful companionable wife fond of her revelry. .Among all his guests 
 both great and small the most familiar was a Monk of thirty years. Be- 
 fore the Merchant went to Bruges he asked Din John, the fair and bold 
 monk, to come to stay a day or two with him. The guest brought a 
 vessel of Malmsey and another of fine "vernage". For two days the 
 Merchant and the Monk drank and played. But on the third morning the 
 host went tc his office to look over his bocks and stayed until nine. 
 
 In the meanwhile the monk lad risen and strolled into the garden. Soon 
 the wife, his cousin, walked quietly into the garden. Seeing her, 
 the Monk inquired what made her so pale. She replied no one was so 
 full of dread and care as she. To relieve her of this distress he re- 
 quested her to tell him all so that he could give her counsel. Hot for 
 

 
 
 
 
 
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- 73 - 
 
 kinship would he do it; hut out of true love. Thereupon she confided 
 that her husband was the worst ;nan there ever was since the world began — 
 in fact he was not worth a fly. If the Monk would lend her one hundred 
 francs, she could yet save her honor. Ihn John promised to give her the 
 money when her husband nad gone to Flamers. It was then nine o'clock 
 and so the wife went to the house to order the preparations of the dinner. 
 After having enjoyed the dinner the Merchant announced that he would go 
 the next day to Flanders. He gave his wife full directions for her com- 
 fort in his absence. To Ehn John he remarked that with him he need have 
 re strange fare. And so as scon as the wife left them alone, the Monk 
 asked his friend, now so intimate, to land him a hundred francs for 
 only a week or two. Secretly the money thus was given. Then the Monk 
 rode off to his abbey. On the next morning the Merchant journed to 
 hruges to buy his goods. To the Merchant’s home the following Sunday 
 Ihn John with the hundred francs came and stayed that night. 7?hen the 
 fair had ended, the Merchant returned bearing the news to his wife that 
 the merchandise was so dear that he would have to make a contract for 
 borrowing money on credit. This would necessitate his paying down 
 twenty thousand "shea Ids". For which sum he must go to Paris. There e 
 met again Dan John who said that if he were rich, he would gladly lend 
 him the money. The money which he had borrowed, he had already returned 
 to the Merchant's wife. After borrowing the money from Lombards, the 
 Merchant went home full of glee. The next morning he reproved his wife 
 for not informing him that Efa.n John had paid her the hundred francs. 
 Immediately she admitted having received and spent the sum but premised 
 to repay her husband and begged him not to be wroth but to laugh and 
 play. He, cautioning ner not to be liberal anymore, forgive her. 
 

 
 
 
 
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- 77 - 
 
 As were the plots of the fabliaux, we see that this plot too 
 is very simple. There is nothing in this frankly sensual story to 
 destroy its unity. The stupidity of the husband and the cleverness of 
 the Monk and the wife color the entire episode. To the bourgeois home 
 is invited an old friend, B*n John, the monk, who plays the r6le of 
 the lover. The other two usual characters in the typical fabliaux, the 
 wife and the stupid husband, are the prominent members of tais house- 
 hold. It is interesting to note that it is the husband who extends the 
 invitation to the Monk who later violates the laws of hospitality. In 
 this step of the narrative the English poet digresses somewhat from 
 the usual design of the French fabliau. For in it the lover's 
 presence in the home frequently was kept hidden from the husband. By 
 a clever scheme of the wife, the lover escaped unseen as in this one: 
 
 The husband came home unexpectedly. The wife turned the borrowed tub 
 over her lover. Soon the neighbor called for his tub. When the hus- 
 band picked up the overturned tub, the wife cried, "Fire".' In the 
 great commotion that followed, the lover escaped unnoticed. 
 
 Once more the husband's generosity opens the door for the Monk's 
 comic intrigue which was plotted in the Merchant's garden before dinner. 
 The Monk seizes upon the nost's parting words of friendship. He is 
 bold enough to ask for the loan of one hundred francs. Willingly the 
 host accommodates him. 
 
 It is the Merchant's trip to Bruges which offers the opportunity 
 to the Monk for the achievement of his first comic intrigue and the 
 preliminary plans for his second. On the Sunday of the Merchant's 
 absence the Monk goes to Saint Denis with his hundred francs which he 
 promised the wife. When the husband returns, he tells his wife that 
 

 
 
 
 
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 the merchandise was so dear at the fair in FIa.iidLers that he must borrow 
 money to secure a loan to pay -or his goods. This necessitated the trip 
 to Paris to see the rich Lombards. While in tills city he incidentally 
 tells Dan John of his dear merchandise. At once the Monk replies 
 that if he were rich, he woul.i lend his friend the twenty thousand 
 "sheelds". Indeed, the Monk's generosity is not less than his prompt- 
 ness in business transactions. He tells the Merchant that he has al- 
 ready returned the hundred francs to his wife. And thus the Merchant 
 serves again to help the Monk carry out the intrigue. 
 
 The Merchant returns to reprove his wife for neglecting to tell 
 him that the money had been left with ner. But her frank confession of 
 raving receiver and spent the money, and her promise to repay the sum, 
 quite overwhelm him. He forgives her entirely. Thus the Merchant is 
 the victim of the comic intrigue which his stupidity has made possible. 
 An- thus his stupidity unifies the whole fabliau. 
 
 From the beginning of the tale the end is foreseen. The situations 
 dove-tall into each other in a perfect manner. The poet makes excellent 
 transitions in the shifting of the scenes. All three of the places, 
 
 Saint Denis, Paris, ana Bruges are essential to the carrying out of 
 the plot. The interval of time which elapses while the Merchant is at 
 his office i3 devoted to the laying of the first intrigue. When lie 
 leaves his home at &.int Denis to attend the fair at Bruges, the time 
 is used for the completion of the first intrigue which was devised to 
 satisfy the Monk's oaser love. The financial difficulties in Bruges 
 make the Merchant's trip to Paris of great importance. This circum- 
 scribed space besiaes linking the parts of the story closely together 
 appealed to the pilgrims. They had been visualizing the types in the 
 
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 tale — the Monk and the Merchant — and now the reference to the well 
 known cities made the characters more realistic. Ho doubt the similar 
 religious and business man of their own pilgrimage had visited these 
 three places. And so real characters moving in real cities heightened 
 the amusement of the episode. The pilgrims appreciated the fact that 
 they were not for a moment side tracked from the action of the plot to 
 listen to a needless digression. 
 
 Professor Hart has pointed out that the typical fabliau not only 
 has a beginning, a middle, and an ena, but that the wnole is well 
 proportioned.^ Chaucer's "Shipman’s Tale" shows these cnaracteris- 
 tics. There is excellent proportion in its three divisions. The real 
 and vivid setting comprises the first hundred and six lines. Within 
 this "beginning" the pilgrims are introduced to the wealthy merchant, 
 his wife, and his guest at Saint Denis. The "middle" contains the 
 rapid conversation in the garden and the house. In these dialogues the 
 first intrigue takes definite shape. This is folio-wed by the second, 
 longer and more elaborate one. There is more dialogue and more de- 
 tails of action in it. In this respect Chaucer conforms to the method 
 of the jongleurs, the composers of fabliaux, who never so exhausted 
 their powers on the first intrigue that they were compelled to treat 
 the second one hastily. As it should be in this type, the "end" is 
 brief. The cleverness of the wife quickly turns the laugh upon her 
 husband. 
 
 (l) Hart, W.M. , "The Narrative Art of the Old Drench Fabliaux", 
 Kittredge Anniversary Papers, pp. 209-216. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
- 30 - 
 
 The Prioress's Tala 
 
 The Shiprnn scarcely utters his last word in his story of Pan 
 John; when the Host impressed with the moral exhorts the rest of the 
 company to he on their guard against such tricks, and to avoid enter- 
 taining in their homes a monk. But immediately his rougher nature 
 gives way to his more courteous manner. He turns to the Prioress and 
 says, 
 
 "My lady Prioress, hy your levs. 
 
 So that I wiste I 3holde you nat greve, 
 
 I wolde demen that ye tellen sholde 
 A tale next, if so were that ye wolde. 
 
 Now wol ye vouche-sauf, my lady dere?" 
 
 In perfect accord ’with her refined character, which Chaucer has 
 emphasized in the "Prologue", she sweetly and gently replies, "Gladly". 
 There i3 a daintiness in this preciseness that arrests the attention 
 of the pilgrims. 
 
 Chaucer now turns to a Miracle of the Blessed Virgin, a favorite 
 form of legend in the middle ages, and one very suitaoie for the 
 Prioress. The hatin collection of this type made in the eleventh and 
 twelfth centuries was soon translated into French. later many miracles 
 were collected hy Jean le Merchant; sixty were written hy Everard de 
 Gateley; and a group was composed "by an Anglo Norman. The most re- 
 presentative group of r.hry Miracles in England, the Vernon miracles, 
 collected in the fourteenth century contains one which i3 similar to 
 Chaucer's, am which we may refer to later. 
 
 To understand the spirit of the Prioress's tale we must recall 
 the early antipathy which the Christians felt for the Jews. We need 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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-81- 
 
 
 not go , however , into a detailed account of the pages of European 
 history stained with the senseless persecution. It seems possible that 
 the Jews having been persecuted sought revenge by the murder of Chris- 
 tian children. The middle ages widely "believed that the Jaws during 
 Passion Week decoyed Christian children into their homes to either 
 crucify or murder them outright. The blood was used in some gruesome 
 religious ceremony. 
 
 The pilgrims knowing this view of the Jews am being fond of 
 a Miracle of the Blessed Virgin listen intently as the Prioress tells 
 this story: 
 
 ”0 Lora, our Lord., thy name is marvelous", quoth the Prioress. 
 
 "Of thee and of thy white lily, will I tell my tale. " To the virgin 
 Mary she cried, "Help me to tell it in thy reverence. My skill is 
 weak to declare thy great worthiness. Therefore guide my song". 
 
 There was in Asia in a great city among Christian folk, a Jewery, 
 sustained by a lord of that land for the sake of foul usury and villain- 
 ous lucre. It ms hateful to Christ and to his company. Men might go 
 through its street, which was free and open at either end. Down at 
 , its farther end Christian folk had a little school in which Christian 
 children learned to sing and to read. There was among these children 
 a widow's son, a little clerk, seven years of age, who went day by day 
 to school. He was taught whenever he saw the image of Christ’s mother 
 to kneel down, and to say "Ave Marie". Always he remembered this 
 teaching of his mother. As the little child sat in school learning his 
 primer, he heard the older children singing "0 Alma Hedemptoris". Hear- 
 er he drew until he had learned the first verse. He was too young to 
 know the meaning of the la tin lines and so one day he had his comrade 
 
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 explain them to him. Then he said, "I with diligence will learn it all. 
 Hven though for my primer I shall he punished, and shill he heaten thrice 
 in an hour, I will learn it in order to honor our Lady." On nie way 
 home from day to day his companion taught him. Finally he could sing 
 it well and boldly going and coming from school. Through the Jewery the 
 little child walked singing merrily, "0 Alma Hedemptoris. " 
 
 Our first foe, the serpent, Satnana3, having a wasp's nest in 
 a Jew's heart, said, "0 Hebrew people, alas, is t^is to you an honest 
 thing, that such a hoy shall walk as he pleases in your despite and sing 
 of such matter which is against the reverence due to our law?" From 
 that moment the Jews conspired to chase this innocent out of the worla. 
 They hired a homicide, who had a privy place in mis alley, to seize the 
 ooy as he would pass hy ana hold him fast, cut his throat, and cast 
 him into the pit. But 
 
 "Mordre wol out, certein, it wol not faille. 
 
 And namely ther th' ciicur of god shal sprede. 
 
 The blood out cryeth on your cursed dede". 
 
 The poor widow waited all night for ner son to return from 
 school. At dawn with pale face and troubled mind she went to the 
 school, and other places until she learned that he was last seen in the 
 Jewery. With mother's pity in her breast she in a daze searched and 
 prayed. She asked of the Jews to tell her if they had seen her child 
 go by. They said, "Hay". But Jesus made her think that her son was 
 cast into a pit beside the place where she stood. At once the little 
 boy began to sing "Alma Hedemptoris ". The Christian folks going 
 through the street heard the song and hastily sent for the chief 
 magistrate. The Jews let them take the child up who kept singing nis 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 piteous lamentation. To the next abbey they carried him. Hie mother 
 swooning fell by the bier. With torment ana a shameful death., the chief 
 magistrate caused each one of the Jews who knew of the murder to perish. 
 
 Upon the bier lay the innocent before the altar during the Mass. 
 After the holy water had been sprinkled upon him, the child sang "0 
 Alma Redemptoris mater". The abbot asked the child why he continued 
 to sing with his throat cut. "My throat is cut to the neck-bone", said 
 the little boy, and naturally I should have died, but Jesus Christ 
 wills that his glory be remembered, and for the worship of his dear 
 mother, I yet sing, "0 Alma" loud and clear. And when I should have 
 given up my life, she came to me ana bade me sing this anthem in my 
 death, as you have heard. She laid a grain under my tongue. Therefore, 
 
 I sing in honor of that blessful lady until this stone is taken from 
 my mouth. After that she will take me". 
 
 The abbot removed the stone. The child gave up the ghost. And 
 do m the abbot's cheeks trickled salt tears. 
 
 In the legend of Alphonsus of Lincoln, a French poem contained 
 in the collection of Miracles of the blessed Virgin -ary by Gautier de 
 Coincy, and in an English poem of 152 lines from the "Miracles cf Cure 
 lady" there are the following stories which offer interesting similarities 
 to Chaucer's poem. Each tells the story to the greater glory of the 
 Virgin i&ry. The boy’s singing to her brings on the murder of the Jews. 
 
 She is the one who produces the miracle which betrays the murder. In 
 each the innocent's mother gees to seek the little boy. In the first 
 and the last of these three versions the little boy sings "Adraa 
 Redemptoris Mater" and is thrown into a wardrobe. The second agrees With 
 Chaucer's tale in recording that the anthem is learned at school. On 
 
-84- 
 
 the whole the first resembles Chaucer's tale the nearest but since it 
 ms issued after Chaucer's, it seems tnat the version which Chaucer 
 used is not extant. 
 
 The Prioress relates an admirably unified story. 27c wonder the 
 pilgrims could neither command their thoughts nor trust t/.eir voices 
 when she had finished. The pathetic story throughout had touched the 
 hardest heart. Prom the first episode until the last the listeners 
 and the readers today are impressed with the simplicity and innocence 
 of the little boy. Even the story teller assumes an unaffected meekness 
 and child-like attitude tc the Blessed Virgin, 
 
 "For to declare thy grate wor thine see. 
 
 That I ne may the weights nat sustene 
 But as a child of twelf monthe old, or lesse," 
 and thereby lands an atmosphere of reverence and simplicity before she 
 tells the sweet child's episode. Hie underlying tone of tenderness is 
 not forced but very natural and therefore makes us feel in spite of the 
 miracle that we have been hearing a chapter of a little boy's life. He 
 is a poor widow's son of seven years. Obediently he kneels down when- 
 ever he sees the image of Christ's mother and says,"Ave Haria". He is 
 too young to know the meaning of the Latin lines of "0 Alma Hedemptoris" 
 but, nevertheless, he is attracted by the rhythm of them. After he is 
 told the translation, he connects it with his previous knowledge of the 
 Virgin Ma ry and likes it better than ever. He is a bright child ana 
 readily masters the lines taught by his companion. Pie is also a brave 
 little boy for he says that he must learn them to honor our lady, even 
 though he knows that he will be beaten thrice in an hour for it. His 
 sweet young voice rings clear the words as he passes through the Jewery. 
 
- 85 - 
 
 By a contrast Chaucer deepens our sympathy for the innocent. The 
 serpent,, Sathanas^ who nas a wasp's nest in a Jew's hearty incites his 
 fellow men to cruelty. Moreover., the Jews hire a homicide to cut the 
 little boy's throat. After this the mother with a loving heart and 
 pale cheeks goes forth to seek her lost son. When she enters the abbey, 
 she swoons beside his bier. The abbot too is touched with genuine 
 pathos. Down his cheeks trickle tears. Thus there is no exaggeration 
 but a gentle sweet tenderness intermingled with this human aspect. 
 
 Furthermore, there is a delicate coherence in this plot. ITearly 
 every line is necessary for the understanding of what follows. The 
 silence of the pilgrims suggests that the very best attention ms re- 
 quired for the full appreciation of the "Prioress's Tale". In the 
 first few verses the description of the lord of the Jewery ani his 
 district hints on impending danger to the Christian school which is 
 at one end of the street running through the Jewery. In tnis Christian 
 school is a widow's son who learns to sing part of "0 AXiiB. Bedemptoris". 
 having learner all of it ne gees back and forth to school through tnis 
 district with the song ever upon his lips. The intolerant Jews im- 
 
 mediately plot to put him out of the world. One day while going 
 merrily through their quarters, he is seized by a homicide and cast in- 
 to a pit. The widow passes the first night in anxiety. In the morning 
 she begins her search until she finds him in a pit. The persecution of 
 the Jews is only incidentally mentioned for the sake of poetical jus- 
 tice. For the ending of the Prioress's plot the ^ass and the little 
 boy's explanation of his singing after death are the most logical 
 incidents. They are the only two scenes that we feel are left to com- 
 pletely close his innocent life. 
 

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 Chaucer's sense of proportion is excellent in the "Prioress's 
 Tale". The first seventy lines have introduced us clearly and sympathe- 
 tically to the Jewery, the poor widow, and the little boy who loves 
 the virgin "ary. To the innocent's sweet, simple, trusting nature the 
 poet devotes eight full stanzas before he touches the tragic murder. 
 Especial stress is laid on the learning of the song which is to be the 
 child's destruction. Even a few lines are taken up with the character 
 of the older fellow who teaches the little child, to show that the 
 former lacks the divine spark of the latter. In the next two stanzas 
 the conspiracy and the murder are recorded. But twice as many lines 
 picture the mother’s sorrow, until she hears her son singing "Alma 
 Bedemptoris" . From this point on to the close the story reveals the 
 tender love of the Virgin Mother who succors the child in his death, 
 for thus the little boy explains his song, 
 
 "This antem verraily in my deyinge. 
 
 As ye han herd, am, whan that I had songe. 
 
 Me thought e, she leyde a greyn up-on my tonge. 
 
 Wherfor I singe, and singe I moot certeyn 
 In honour of that blisful mayden free. 
 
 Til fro my tonge of- taken is the greyn; 
 
 And afterward thus seyde she to me, 
 
 ’Iffy litel child, now wol I fecche thee."' 
 
 "The Nun ' s Pr ie s t ' s Ta le " 
 
 The Knight's courteous objection during the Monk's dismal 
 tragedies is seconded by this abrupt objection from the Host: "Sir 
 Monk, no more of this. Such talking is not worth a butterfly. If it 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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- 87 - 
 
 were not for the clinking of the bells on your horse’s briale, I would 
 have fallen asleep and have dropped into the deep spring mud." To en- 
 liven the rest of the pilgrims who have been bored likewise by this 
 last weary tale, the Host singles out the Nun's Priest to tell a story 
 that will make all of their hearts glad. One of the distinguished pil- 
 grims, the lordly Monk, has failed to amuse the motley crowd, and so 
 an obscure member whom the poet did not describe in the "Prologue" is 
 assigned this special duty. 
 
 But Chaucer has not overlooked him but has reserved for him the 
 fable, a type popular from the remotest antiquity, which according to 
 la Fontaine's definition is capable of producing the very effect de- 
 sired by the Host: 
 
 "Pables in sooth are not what they appear; 
 
 Our moralists are mice, and such snail deer. 
 
 We yawn at sermons, but we gia.dly turn 
 To moral tales, and so amused we learn." 
 
 The primitive form of literature arose from the universal impulse of 
 men to express their thoughts in concrete images. Again referring to 
 la Fontaine we find that the fable or apologue is composed of a body and 
 a soul; the former is the narrative in which are irrational or inanimate 
 beings feigned to act and speak with human interest, and the latter is 
 the morality. It is interesting to note, however, that the earliest 
 beast-fable, the progenitor of the Aesopian fable, was minus the moral. 
 
 In the Fast , the long recognized land of the myth and the legend, is 
 the natural home of the fable with Hindustan as the birthplace of those 
 extant. Aesop, it seems, lived in the sixth century B.C. though probably 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 his fables were never written down. Besides adaptations of Aesop there 
 are many original ones composed By I.arie de France in the thirteenth 
 century. The expansion of her "Lon Coc et don Werpil" is Chaucer's 
 "N-un's Priest's Tale". This story has "been traced to the history of 
 Reynard the Fox. Grimm found this Beast-epic dating Back to the tenth 
 century. The first example is the Latin, then the German, "Re ine eke 
 Fuchs", and. in the thirteenth century the French, "Roman de Renert". The 
 second Miss Peterson concludes is the closest to Chaucer's fable. This 
 we may compare later in our discussion of the plot structure of Chaucer's 
 poem filled with such fresh-hearted ^.ye ty: . 
 
 There was a poor widow, somewhat Bent in age who dwelt in a 
 poor cottage standing in a dale Beside a grove. This widow had led a 
 simple life for little vj&s her cattle and her rent to keep herself and 
 her two daughters. No dainty morsel passed through her throat But 
 only milk. Brown Bread, Bacon, and sometimes an egg or two. In her yard 
 enclosed with sticks and a dry ditch she had a cock named Chanticleer 
 which had not an equal for crowing. His crowing in his lodging was 
 more certain than a clock or an abbey horologe. Redder than the fine 
 coral was his comb embattling, as it seemed, a castle wall. This gentle 
 cock had in his government seven hens, either his sisters or his wives. 
 The fairest hued in her throat was Psrtelote, courteous, discreet, 
 debonair, and sociable. Of all the rest he loved her cest and sang in 
 sweet accord with her, "My Beloved is gone away". For in those days 
 Beasts and Birds could speak and sing. It happened one morning while 
 they were all sitting upon the perch in the hall, that Chanticleer 
 Began to groan in his throat as a man would when he is sorely troubled 
 in his dreams. Hearing him Pertelote was aghast and said, "Lear heart. 
 
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- 82 “ 
 
 what ails you to groan in this manner?” To her he replied, "Do not 
 take it in sorrow. I dreamed that while I was roaming up and down with- 
 in our yard> I saw a "beast with a color between yellow and red which 
 sprang upon me. This without doubt caused me to groan." 
 
 "Away. 1 " quoth Pertelot, "fie on you, coward. No wife desires a 
 husband afraid of every weapon. Have you no man's heart? Dreams are 
 nothing but vanity. Cate, a wise man, said* Take no heed of dreams! When 
 we fly from our perch, I shall show you herbs which will have the 
 property to purge you". 
 
 Chanticleer returned that he had many authorities who believed 
 the contrary to this theory. "Cicero relates the story of two friends, 
 one who slept in an ox's stall and the other who lodged elsewhere. The 
 latter dreamed that his friend was murdered in the stall and the next 
 morning found nis dead body hid in a cart. In the same book is another 
 tale of a tfondreus dream. One of two friends dreams the night before 
 they are to sail that they are drowned on their morning voyage. He 
 prays the other to delay the trip a few days. Hut his friend only laughs 
 and scorns him saying, 'No dream makes my heart sc aghast that I will 
 delay to do my business. Dreams are but vanities.' Yet before this 
 latter one sails half his course, the ship is rent and down goes the 
 sailor into the sea. Therefore, Percelote, sc dear, by these old 
 examples may you learn that men should not be reckless of dreams. Again 
 in the life of St. Kenelm, I read how Kenelm dreamed before his murder, 
 that he saw in a vision his own murderer. I too shall have of my 
 vision adversity. As for your herbs I love them never a bit. Now let 
 us speak of mirth and stop ail of this". 
 
 "I have great bliss". Chanticleer said, "when I behold you so 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
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 fair. Woman is man's joy and bliss. Moreover, when I fe^l at night 
 your soft side, I have such solace that I defy dreams and visions". 
 
 Down he flew for it was dawn, and all his hens witn a cluck he called 
 to enjoy the grain which he had found. Royal he was and no more afraid. 
 Thus as royal as a prince in his hail we leave Chanticleer in his 
 pasture with his ladies. 
 
 A col-fox, full of sly iniquity which had dwelt in the grove 
 three years, "broke through the hedge the same night that Chanticleer 
 dreamed this dream, ana lay in the "bed of herbs in the yard until his 
 time to murder the cock would come. He waited just as homicides who 
 lie in ambush to murder men. 
 
 Chanticleer had been warned by his dream. But whether God's 
 worthy foreknowledge compelleth one necessarily to do a thing, or man 
 with free choice does that same thing or rejects it, though God fore- 
 knows it before it is wrought; are matters set aside now, for the tale 
 is of the cock wno took his counsel of his wife with sorrow as aid 
 Adam. 
 
 In the sand bathing in the sun sang Chanticleer, Pertelote, and 
 all her sisters. As Chanticleer cast his eye upon a butterfly in the 
 r.erbs, he espied this fox lying low. The fox crxea, "Cock, Cock."' 
 as if he were frightened and ready to flee from an enemy. But when the 
 cock would flee, the fox said, "Gentle sir, where will you go. I am 
 your friend. I have come to hear your merry voice. Your father with 
 his eyes shut sang tetter than any one. Let us see if you can counter- 
 feit your father." Ravished with flattery and not suspecting the 
 treason. Chanticleer beat iiis wings, shut his eyes, ana crowed lustily. 
 The fox rushed up seized him by the neck and bore him upon his back 
 

 
 
 
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 in to the wood. 
 
 When Pertelote had seen the sight she shrieked louder than 
 Hasdrubale 's wife. Having heard the hens , the silly widow and her two 
 daughters ran out of the door. The cock upon the fox’s hack they saw, 
 and cried, "Ha, ha, icx."' as they, joined by their neighbors, chased 
 the thief. Like fiends in hell they all yelled. The ducks squawked 
 as if they were being killed by men. For fear, the geese flew over the 
 trees, .find out of the hives came a swarm of bees. 
 
 Upon the fox's back the cock lying in all dread spoke to the fox 
 saying, "If I were you, I would say, ’Turn back you followers for in 
 spite of all you can do, the cock shall here abide. I will eat him 
 in faith. While the fox repeated these words, the cock broke 
 swiftly from his mouth ana flew high upon a tree. Seeing that he had 
 gone the fox called out, "0 Chanticleer, I seized you vvith no wicked 
 intention. Come down and I shall tell you what I meant." "Iky," 
 cried Chanticleer, "not more than once will you beguile me. You shall 
 no more through flattery make me sing and wink with my eyes. For he 
 who winks when he should see, will have misfortune". "Iky", said the 
 fox, "but God gives him ill luck who is so indiscreet as to pr^te when 
 he should hold his tongue. " 
 
 But you who hold this tale to be but a "folye" of a fox, or a 
 cock, or a hen take the morality thereof, good mien. 
 
 The plot though very slight is artistically unified. Its key- 
 note is pride. Since this quality serves both for the entanglement and 
 for the denouement, nearly all the stress is laid upon the portrayal 
 of character. Chaucer’s sly humorous satire in the description of the 
 uxorious Chanticleer gives a sparkle to tne genex-al tone and reminds us 
 

 
 
 
 
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- 92 - 
 
 constantly that tne husband i.3 a fowl. Moreover, his satire is of a 
 rnock heroic style. Within the hen coop are domestic situations. 
 
 Pertelote is solicitous of her husband's welfare. When Chanticleer is 
 timid, frightened by his dream, she is cool just like lady Macbeth, 
 
 It is Chanticleer who thinks dreams are a portent of evil; and Pertelote 
 who says that he needs medicine. Chanticleer like Macbeth is imagina- 
 tive; but Pertelote is scientific. For her authority on dreams Pertelote 
 can cite just a school book, while for his authorities Chanticleer 
 draws from extensive and deep readings. He cannot resist rolling the 
 high sounding Iatin words under his tongue even if he is compelled to 
 mistranslate them to keep his wife’s good favor. As a royal knight he 
 calls his lady to enjoy the grain of corn. His strutting and his 
 crowing remind us during her feast that the knight and lady are fowls. 
 Pertelote ha a received Chanticleer's praise of her beauty and her 
 sympathy and has not once suppressed his egotism. Along cones the fox 
 and takes advantage of this dominant characteristic. But the table is 
 turned, when Chanticleer makes use of his knowledge of human nature 
 to regain his freedom. 
 
 In the coherence of this poem Chaucer has improved on his 
 sources. He places the dream of Chanticleer before the espying of 
 the fox. The pleasure of anticipating the danger aids much to the 
 narrative. The movement is retarded in "Romulus". Pinte sees the fox 
 and then wakens chanticleer who tells of his dream. Chaucer introduces 
 a butterfly hovering over the herbs in which the fox lies hidden. This 
 attracts Chanticleer's eye as he looks about to firm, food for his 
 ’.rives, Immediately the two opposing forces come face to face. The 
 trap i3 laid, the chase takes place, and the excitement is lively. A- 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 gain the cock is the center of attraction and his pursuers offer the 
 means for hia escape. From the din that comes to his ears he knows 
 they are there. Quickly he advises the fox to shout his victory. And, 
 at that very moment, he flys to the trees. 
 
 The humorous setting forms the greatest portion of the fa'ole so 
 that tnere will be ample time for the delineation of character without 
 which the entanglement would be less fascinating. The opposing character 
 enters in the last fourth of the poem. The movement from that point is 
 rapid. No delay is necessary for aescription of situations. Everything 
 has been accounted for. The general uproar of the chase holds sway. 
 Almost at the very close is the climax. Chanticleer frees himself from 
 the fox's jaws and shouts back his triumph from the branches. 
 
 "Hie Pardoner's Tale" 
 
 The Host, who takes upon his shoulders the burden of voicing the 
 general sentiment of the pilgrims, no.v remarks at the close of the 
 Physician's tragic account of Virginia that it has caused his heart to 
 be so sad that he feels the need of a restorative draught of new and 
 corny ale, or a merry tale. Therefore, he calls to the Pardoner, 
 
 "Tel us som mirths or japes right anon". 
 
 "It shall be done", the Pardoner rejoins. But, hereupon, the pilgrims 
 take a hand in the request. The Host has assumed too much this oime. 
 
 In truth, he has reckoned without his company. "Nay. 1 let him tell us 
 of no ribaldry but of a moral thing", they demand, 
 
 Waiting for no further orders from the Host the Pardoner says 
 that he, while drinking in the way-side tavern, now reached, will 
 think -upon some honest thing. Frankly he tells the pilgrims how he 
 

 
 
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- 94 - 
 
 preaches in his own pulpit. In a haughty manner he addresses his own 
 congregation. His theme is always "Radix mlorum est cupiditas". First 
 he announces whence he h a s come; shows his hulls from the Pope, and 
 tells his tales interspersed with a few Datin words to color his sermon 
 and to stir men to devotion. Then he compels offerings to his false 
 relics. Of avarice and such curseiness he preaches. But his intentions 
 are to win silver from his people, not to correct their sins. He him- 
 se ..I -s guilty 01 avarice and he preacnes only "because he is covetous. 
 
 He always used many exerapla of old stories "because people like old tales 
 -Ssi. .low the Pardoner, a full vicious man, having "by this time refresh- 
 su aimsexj. with a uraught of corny ale, tells a moral tale which he is 
 
 accustomed to deliver. 
 
 As we shall note in the "Nun’s Priest's Tale" the moral of the 
 sermon is there, too, emphasized by a story illustrating it. Chaucer 
 has read and listened to nany such forms of sermons; "but we have no 
 definite source for this one. The story, however, in the "Pardoner's 
 Tale" is of Eastern origin. From a very early date the story "became 
 popular. Its earliest form is the collection of Hindoo tales entitled 
 "Vedaboha Jataka". ^ In P a rsiaa , Arabic, Ikshmiri, and Tibetan are 
 other versions of it. More recent versions are written in Italian, 
 German, French, Portuguese, and let in. The one which closest resembles 
 Chaucer's is the version in the "Cento Novelle Antiche" which probably 
 antedates another similar tale found in Boccaccio's, the "Tenth Tale of 
 the Sixth Day of the Decameron". Its interesting similarity to Chaucer's 
 
 (l) Root, "The Poetry of Chaucer", p. 
 
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 poem to which we may refer later will help U3 to appreciate the skill 
 of the English poet in constructing the plot of the "Pardoner's Tale". 
 'The story is as follows:- 
 
 In Flanders was a company of young folk who practiced folly. 
 
 With riotous living, dice playing, music, ana chancing they made merry. 
 The world is corrupt with gluttony, drinking, gambling, swearing ana 
 homicide. These riotous three of vvhom we spoke sat drinking in a 
 tavern when -hey heard the tinkle of a bell, which was being carried 
 before a corpse. One of the three called to a boy and asked him to 
 find out who was dead. The knave replied that the body was one of 
 their own company who had been slain by Death. Death, who doubtless 
 dwelt in the village, had slain a thousand within the last year. Then 
 one of the three proposed that they all three become sworn friends and 
 live and die for each other as brothers would; and go forth to slay 
 Death. And. so they went forth toward the village. After they had gone 
 about a half mile they met a poor old man whom they asked to protect 
 them. The old man had been tapping the ground with his staff and 
 calling for mother earth to receive him; but Death did not want him. 
 
 One of the gamesters said to him, "You speak of the traitor Death wno 
 has slain all of our friends in tnis country. Tell us where he is". "Turn 
 up this crooked road leading into the grove and there under an oak he 
 abides", answered the stranger. Under the tree they found fine florins 
 of gold — about eight bushels, Down they sat ana sought no longer for 
 Death. The worst spoke first: "Let us spend the money as lightly as 
 we found it. The one whom we choose by lot will go to town to buy us 
 bread and wine." To the youngest fell the lot. While he was gone. 
 
 one of the two who stayed to guard the treasure explained a plan to the 
 

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-96- 
 
 other. "When the youngest returns", he sail, "you arise as if you were 
 going to play with him, and I shall thrust a dagger into his side. Then 
 we shall divide the florins between us." The younger, too, thought that he 
 would like the treasure for himself. To the apothecary he would go to buy 
 poison. He would tell that he wanted it to destroy vermin that troubled 
 him at night. Then acting upon this thought he bought the poison and bor- 
 rowed three large bottles. Into two he poured the deadly drug. The third 
 he kept clean for his drink. When he had filled them all with wine, he 
 returned to the rioters. As the two had planned, they slew the youngest. 
 When this was done, they drank the wine. Both died. "0 cursed sin, full of 
 cursedness.' " the Hardener adds. "Come up you wives and make your offering. 
 
 I have your names on the roll. Here are my relics. If you wish to have 
 absolution, you may now come to kneel down. Host, with you I shall begin, 
 for you are most involved in sin." 
 
 The Host refuses to kiss the relics. But, however, the Knight prevents 
 a quarrel by advising the Host to kiss the Pardoner. This they do. Jind all 
 ride on their happy way. 
 
 This exemplum, one of Chaucer’s best stories, is cleverly devised. 
 
 The evil of covetousness is the main thread of the sermon. With a delight- 
 fully unified story the theme is illuminated so vividly ana so emphatically 
 that the audience think that they have been realing a leaf out of their 
 own history. For to them the ravages of the pestilence is a personal 
 experience. The four (-) in Edward Ill’s reign have not been for- 
 gotten. In the days of such danger nany gave themselves up to religious 
 exercises, others to dissipation. Those who were spared the terrible 
 plague drifted closer together. Jfcid so in Flanders, a town renowned 
 for drinking, the three who are reveling in the tavern naturally 
 
 (l) The ones in 1348-49, 1361-63; 1369; 1375-76. 
 

 
 
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- 97 - 
 
 plct to avenge Death who has taken their associate. Moreover., they 
 plight their troth to live and die e a ch for the other. This last 
 incident nas a second significance. Like the friendship of I&lamon 
 and Arcite it is a survival in literature of the very ancient institur 
 "cion ci the iratres jurati. One might cite further the friendship of 
 "Achilles and Patroclus", and "Nysus and Euryalus", The "Cento Hovel ie 
 Antiche " do e s not contain the tavern setting which Cnaucer employs to 
 give the tone to the whole poem. The pilgrims are thus enabled to 
 see the gloom of inevitable death which overshadows the rioters before 
 they are introduced to the old man, not a hermit as in trie Italia: 
 "Novella ", The resignation of old age increases by contrast the im- 
 petuousness of youth. Death will not receive him; Death will not wait 
 for the three revelers who seek to slay him. When the three are told 
 * eM the false traitor is, they run tc meet him. Again Chaucer cakes 
 another :-.is crimination in his choice of detail. The sturdiness of the 
 Oak instead o_ the ease oi the "grandissima grotto" suggests a rougher 
 atmosphere which immediately pervades this third scene of his story. 
 
 And instead of "molto oro" he specifies that there are bushels of 
 -l lor ins sc t-at tne coins can oe used at once to buy the poison and vine 
 tc end the episode. Chaucer even characterizes the three rioters for 
 >.-ie sake of plot development. It is the most wicked one who suggests 
 z-'.q trip to town for bread and drink. In order to maintain the respect 
 - or the three a little longer there is no hint that the plighted troth 
 is on the verge of being broken. No one is singled out to go on the 
 errand. Chance decides that the youngest should go. First the 'two 
 overcome by greed break the vow of friendship. Then the youngest is 
 seized by covetousness beyond his strength of honor. The irony of 
 

 
 
-98- 
 
 fate closes the tale. The sword, is turned against them all. Alas., the 
 provisions that would nave lasted for days, profits none of them. 
 
 The "Pardoner’s Tale" is artistic in its coherence. No superfluous 
 details hinder the rapid sweep of death. In the prologue there is a 
 lack of seriousness in the Pardoner's acknowledgement that he is 
 avaricious. Ke is personally aware how this sin grips one in its vi3e. 
 This is the key to his tale. The company in Flanders introduced at the 
 very beginning cf his stock sermon is very effective. For after the evils 
 of drinking, gambling, swearing, homicide have been mentioned, the Par- 
 doner returns to his story by recalling to his audience's minds that 
 there are three revelers of whom he has already told them. The limited 
 number of three in the tavern now provides for the death cf the thousand 
 and the associate which took place while the three in their drunkenness 
 were unconscious of their environment. Then Drunkenness (705), 
 
 Blasphemy (706-9), and Hazardry (1.751) journey hand in hand until they 
 reach their climax in Homicide prompted directly by Avarice. The story 
 ends so swiftly that the rapidity of death is impressive. To enforce 
 his argument the Pardoner adds a peroration ^ when he addresses his 
 hypothetical congregation. And at last he ends ^ as he begins; 
 
 "Now, goode men, god forgave you your trespas. 
 
 And ware you fro the sinne of avaryce. " 
 
 Chaucer has kept his audience clearly in mind in determining the 
 artistic proportions of the sermon an., tale. The abstract terms cf sin 
 in the didactic digression begin to become a little monotonous and so 
 the Pardoner breaks off after he has delivered about one third of his 
 
 (1) Hie Works of Chaucer (1.895-99) 
 
 (2) (1,954-905) 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
-QC- 
 
 sermon to give his exemplum. In this the tavern setting is briefly 
 described. The realistic conversation between the old man and. the 
 revelers leads up to the finding of the treasure. There is just enough 
 matter to explain the dispatching of the youngest. The plotting of the 
 two others is not so elaborate as that of the youngest, because hia 
 scheme, being the main pivot upon which the denouement turns, should 
 naturally receive the greater treatment. At the close of the story the 
 action is very rapid. Avarice not death is the theme and so death must 
 have but a brief line or two. Without the peroration the sermon is 
 unfinished, hut of course it is snort. Hie Pardoner must not weary 
 his congregation for he has yet to invite them to offer their silver. 
 
. 
 
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- 100 - 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 
 Cone Ills ion 
 
 The development of Chaucer's gening in narrative art is very 
 obvious in the above plots. Yfe have "been able to point out many borrow- 
 ings from French, and Italian models for his early stories, hut we have 
 found few if any direct originals for his later ones. His method of 
 treating suggestions is, moreover, much freer in the "Canterbury Tales". 
 Besides he enlivens the material with more honor. An- best of all his 
 characters are less conventional. They now seem much nearer to life. 
 Chaucer like Shakespeare held the "mirror up to nature" ana allowed the 
 very age in which he lived. As a lever of all huiian nature lie omitted 
 neither great nor low; neither old nor young in his narratives. He has 
 written of knights and ladies, and cooks and plowmen; of an old nan 
 longing for Mother Earth to receive him, and of a devout little boy. 
 
 The charm of the complications or causally connected series of events 
 in his stories has depended largely on his true interpretation of the 
 motives of this wide range of characters. For instance in the "Book of 
 the Duchesse" it was the knight's grief that caused the poet to assume 
 the innocent rdle so that he could comfort the bereaved one. Thus it 
 was the delineation of character that bound the parts of the story to- 
 gether into the unity of passion and sympathy. Knowing his characters 
 so perfectly Chaucer does not shock us with incongruities but fascinates 
 us with his artistic unity, coherence, and proportion. 
 
 In Judging his coherence we must not lose sight of the literary 
 demands of his own age. There were many conventions that had to be 
 respected, such as we have previously mentioned. The people were ac- 
 customed to them and felt that the narratives were dull and impoverished 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 ■ 
 
 
 
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- 101 - 
 
 without them. If we attempt to real these poena without a knowledge 
 of knighthood, the system of courtly love, the psychology of dreams, 
 the exempla of the homilies, the fable, the fabliau, the lay, and the 
 miracles of the Virgin so popular in the literature in the Middle Ages, 
 we may he deprived of the significant relation of some of the best 
 phrases, scenes, and episodes in the plots, ue are then inclined to 
 judge such passages as mere digressions. Critics have culled out some 
 prominent phrases as not orderly and logical in their sequence which 
 we have indicated above to be vital to the unfolding of the plot because 
 we measured the tales by the mediaeval standards in literature. 
 
 The proportion of Chaucer's narratives has been a point of much 
 dispute. Critics again lose sight of the particular nature of the plot. 
 For example in the "Ho us of Fame" we are to keep in mind that we have 
 an account of a' journey. Hie narrator, therefore, lias the liberty to 
 dwell at length on seme stages of his flight to the House of Fame, and 
 to pass rapidly over others, according to the impression that the 
 incidents make upon him. Particularly noteworthy is the proportion 
 in the "Hun’s Priest's Tale". The entanglement and the denouement 
 occupy but a very few lines, however, the poet lias a good reason for 
 such a distribution of material. Artfully he presents the lesson on 
 pride in the plot by the elaborate humorous delineation of Chanticleer's 
 domestic character which precedes it. 
 
 After such a study of Chaucer's plots which thus picture the cause 
 and effect of human action, we are impressed with the opinion of Profes- 
 sor Eittreige that Chaucer "found nc answer to the puzzle of life but 
 in truth and courage and beauty ana belief in God. " 
 
 (l) Kittredge, G. L. , "Chaucer and liis Poetry", pp.^18. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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- 102 - 
 
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 _ _ 
 
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