No More Learning

.
What he desires is desired also by his youthful companions ; he
enters upon the road, and they follow him. . . . Older men too give
way to him for gain, and pervert the justice of the king's court'
(VI, 555 ff. ). And the second passage runs as follows (in effect):
*The king is honoured above all, so long as his acts are good, but
if the king is avaricious and proud, the people is grieved. Not all
that a king desires is expedient for him : he has a charge laid
upon him, and must maintain law and do justice. O king, do
away with the evils of thy reign, restore the laws and banish
crime: let thy people be subject to thee for love and not for
fear' (v1, 1159 ff. ). These alterations were evidently made while
the king was still young, but at a time when he was regarded as
fully responsible for the government. In 1390, when Confessio
Amantis was first completed, and when the author's summary of
his three principal works, which was appended to it, may be supposed
to have been first written, the innocence of the king as regards the
events of the year 1381 is still carefully asserted, and, from the
manner in which the king is spoken of in the first edition of Con-
fessio Amantis itself, both at the beginning and at the end of the
poem, we know that the author had not yet abandoned his hope that
the king, who even then was hardly more than three and twenty,
might prove to be endowed with those qualities of justice and mercy
1


## p. 137 (#155) ############################################

Political Opinions
137
>
which were necessary for a successful reign (VIII, 2970* ff. ). Very
soon, however, he saw reason to abandon these hopes; within a
year, he composed an alternative version of his epilogue, in which his
prayers for the king were changed into prayers for the good govern-
ment of the land; and, finally, in 1392 or 1393, instead of the lines in
the prologue in which reference was made to the king's suggestion
of the work, he inserted others in which the book was said to have
been written for England's sake, and was presented not to the king,
but to his cousin Henry of Lancaster, to whose person the author
had already transferred some of the hopes and aspirations which
had previously centred in the king. It is probable that these
changes were made in a few copies only, which either remained in
the hands of the author, like the Fairfax MS, in which we can trace
the actual process of the change, made by erasure and substitution
of leaves, or were written for presentation to Henry himself, as is
probably the case with the Stafford MS. By far the larger number
of existing copies are of the earlier form. Gradually, Gower's spirit
became more and more embittered, as the king's self-indulgence
and arbitrary rule more and more belied his hopes of reformation;
and in the final edition of his note upon his works, written after
the fall of Richard, he omits all mention of the early events of the
reign and of the king's youth and innocence, and represents Vox
Clamantis as dealing generally with the evils of the time, for
which the king is held primarily responsible by reason of his in-
justice and cruelty. Finally, in Cronica Tripertita the misfortunes
which have overtaken Richard II are shown to be the natural
consequences of a course of evil government and treachery, and in
the English stanzas addressed to Henry IV the author's ideal of a
king, as one who above all things should promote peace at home
and abroad, is set forth with the enthusiasm of one who, after long
waiting, at length sees his hopes for his country fulfilled.
The literary work of Gower is represented chiefly by those
three books upon which the head of his effigy rests in St Saviour's
Church, the French Speculum Meditantis (or Speculum Hominis,
as it was originally called), the Latin Vox clamantis, and the
English Confessio Amantis. Let us first observe what he tells
us himself of these works, in the Latin note already referred to,
which is found, with variations, in most of the manuscripts :
Since every man is bound to impart to others in proportion as he has
himself received from God, John Gower, desiring in some measure to lighten
the account of his stewardship, while yet there was time, with regard to those
mental gifts which God had given him, amid his labours and in his leisure


## p. 138 (#156) ############################################

138
John Gower
composed three books for the information and instruction of others, in the
form which follows.
The first book, written in the French language, is divided into ten parts,
and, treating of vices and of virtues, as also of the various conditions of men
in the world, endeavours rightly to teach the way by which the sinner who
has trespassed onght to return to the knowledge of his Creator. And the
title of this book is Speculum Meditantis1.
The second book, metrically composed in the Latin language, treats of
the various misfortunes which happened in England in the time of king
Richard II, whence not only the nobles and commons of the realm suffered
great evils, but the cruel king himself, falling from on high by his own evil
doings, was at length hurled into the pit which he dug himself. And the
name of this volume is Vox Clamantis.
The third book, which was written in the English language in honour of
his most valorous lord Henry of Lancaster, then earl of Derby, marks out the
times from the reign of Nebuchadnezzar until now, in accordance with the
prophecy of Daniel on the changes of the kingdoms of this world. It treats,
also, in accordance with Aristotle, of the matters in which king Alexander
was instructed by his discipline, both for the governance of himself and for
other ends. But the chief matter of the book is founded upon love, and the
infatuated passions of lovers. And the name appropriated to this work is
Confessio Amantis,
The author conceives, then, of his literary work as essentially
didactic in character, and of himself as fulfilling a mission in
making use, for the benefit of his own generation, of the gifts
which he has received. This, of course, was a quite usual stand-
point. It was a didactic age, and Gower was fully in sympathy
with the prevailing tendency to edification; but his books, on the
whole, have a somewhat higher literary quality than might be
supposed from his description of them.
The French work is placed first of these three books by the
author, and, no doubt, it came first in the order of time. It contains
evidence, however, that this was not his first literary essay, for he
speaks in it of earlier poems of a light and amorous kind, the
composition of which he now regrets. It is not necessary to
suppose that these fols ditz d'amours are identical with the
Cinkante Balades which, near the close of his life, he dedicated
to Henry IV. The passage referred to seems to speak of some-
thing lighter and in a more lyrical vein.
1 In the first edition of this statement, the title is Speculum Hominis, corresponding
to the French form Mirour de l'Omme.
In the earlier form of the statement (1890), the author speaks of the insurrection
made by the serfs against the nobles and gentry of the kingdom, and takes occasion
to free the king from all blame by reason of his tender age. The form which is
given above is, in fact, a reference to the later politios of the reign, rather than to the
period dealt with in Vox Clamantis.
8 In the earlier form 'at the instance of hi lord. . . King Richard the second. '
4 Mirour de l'Omme, 27,337 ff.


## p. 139 (#157) ############################################

Literary Productions
139
Speculum Meditantis has come down to us in a single
copy, under the French title Mirour de l'Omme. For several
centuries it disappeared from view and was supposed to have
perished. “Of the Speculum Meditantis. . . no trace remains,'
wrote Courthope in the year 1895'. But in that very year
a copy, slightly imperfect, was discovered in the Cambridge
University Library, to which it had lately come by the sale of a
private library; and, though it bears no author's name, it has
been identified with certainty by its correspondence with the
author's description of his work, and by comparison of the style
and substance with those of Gower's other works'.
In this, the first of the three principal works, we have in its
most systematic, and, consequently, its least attractive, form, the
material which forms the groundwork also of the others. It is, in
fact, a combination in one scheme of all the principal kinds of
moral composition which were current in that age, the Somme
des Vices et des Vertus, the États des hommes, and the
metrical summary of Scripture history and legend. The scheme
is of a very ambitious character. It is intended to cover the
whole field of man's religious and moral nature, to set forth
the purposes of Providence in dealing with him, to describe
the various degrees of society and the faults specially charge-
able to each class of men and, finally, to explain the method
which should be followed by man in order to reconcile himself
to the God whom he has offended by his sin. The author shows
a certain amount of ingenuity in combining all this in a single
scheme: he does not merely reproduce the current form of treat-
ment, but aspires to a certain degree of literary unity, which
distinguishes his work from that of writers like the author of the
Manuel des Pechiez. Such works as this last were intended for
practical purposes : Gower's poem aspires to be a work of literary
art, however little we may be disposed to allow it that title. The
following is the account which William of Wadington gives of his
design at the beginning of the Manuel des Pechiez (the original of
Robert of Brunne's Handlyng Synne), which, it must be remem-
bered, has the form of a poem.
May the power of the Holy Spirit aid us to set forth the matters with
regard to which a man should make his confession, and also in what manner
1 Hist. of English Poetry, 1, p. 308.
· See Macaulay's edition of Gower, Vol. 1, pp. XXV—zli, and lxviii-lxxi.
Previous enquirers had been misled by the expectation that the book, if found, would
bear the title Speculum Meditantis, not sufficiently observing that this title was adopted
long after its first production.


## p. 140 (#158) ############################################

140
John Gower
it should be made. . . . First we will tell of the true faith, which is the foundation
of our law. . . . Then we will set down the commandments which all ought to
keep; then the seven mortal sins, whence so many evils arise. . . . Then you will
find, if you please, the seven sacraments of holy Church. . . . Then you will find
a sermon on fear and how you ought to feel fear and love. You will then find
a book on Confession which will be proper for everyone.
All this is strictly practical, and there is no attempt at artistic
structure. Gower's work more nearly resembles such composi-
tions as those of the Reclus de Moiliens, written at the end of the
twelfth century in the same twelve-line stanza as he uses; but the
Mirour de l'Omme is far more comprehensive, as well as more sys-
tematic, than the Charité or the Miserere of the Reclus. In his
review of the estates of men, however, and especially in his manner
of addressing the representatives of the various classes, when
accusing them of their faults, Gower's work often strikingly re-
sembles these well-known French compositions, with which, as well
as with the Vers de la Mort of Hélinand de Froidmont, written in
the same metre, he must, of course, have been acquainted. We may
reasonably assume that the Miserere of the Reclus de Moiliens was
one of Gower's principal models both of style and versification.
The general scheme of the Mirour de l'Omme is as follows.
Sin, the cause of all evils, is a daughter of the Devil, who, upon
her, has engendered Death. Death and Sin, then intermarrying,
have produced the seven deadly Vices; and the Devil sends Sin
and her seven daughters into the world to defeat the designs of
Providence for the salvation of Man. Temptation is sent as a
messenger to Man, who is invited to meet the Devil and his council.
He comes; and the Devil, Sin and the World successively address
him with promises. The Flesh of Man consents to be ruled by
them, but the Soul expostulates with the Flesh, who is thus
resolved upon a course which will ruin them both. The Flesh
wavers, but is unable to give up the promised delights, until the
Soul informs her of Death, who has been concealed from her view,
and calls in Reason and Fear to convince her. The Flesh is
terrified and brought back to Reason by Conscience, and thus the
design of the Devil and Sin is, for the time, frustrated (1—750).
Sin, thereupon, makes marriages between all her daughters and the
World, so that offspring may be produced by means of which Man
may be overcome. They all go in procession to the wedding.
Each in turn is taken in marriage by the World, and by each he
has five daughters, all of whom are described at length. The
daughters of Pride, for example, are Hypocrisy, Vain Glory, Arro-
gance, Avantance, Disobedience, and so with the rest (751—9720).


## p. 141 (#159) ############################################

Mirour de l'Omme
I4I
a
They all make a violent attack upon Man, and he surrenders him-
self to them (9721–10,032). Reason and Conscience pray to God
for assistance, and seven Virtues, the contraries of the Vices, are
given in marriage to Reason, each of whom has five daughters,
described, of course, in detail, as in the case of the Vices and their
progeny (10,033—18,372).
A strife ensues for the conquest of Man. To decide who has
gained the victory up to the present time, the author undertakes
to examine the whole of human society from the court of Rome
downwards; but he declares his opinion in advance that Sin has
almost wholly prevailed (18,373—18,420).
Every estate of Man is passed in review and condemned ; all
have been corrupted and all throw the blame on the world (or the
age) (18,421—26,604). The poet addresses the world, and asks
whence comes this evil. Is it from earth, water, air or fire?
From none of these, for all these in themselves are good. It is
from Man that all the evils of the age arise. Man is a microcosm,
an abridgment of the world, and, when he transgresses, all the
elements are disturbed. On the other hand the good and just man
can command the powers of the material world, as the saints have
always done by miracles. Every man, therefore, ought to desire
to repent of his sin and turn to God, so that the world may be
amended. The author confesses himself as great a sinner as any
man, but he trusts in the mercy of Jesus Christ. But how can he
escape from his sins, how can he dare to come before God? Only
by the help of Mary, Maid and Mother, who will intercede for him
if he can obtain her favour (26,605—27,468). Therefore, before
finishing his task, he will tell of her birth, her life and her death;
and, upon this, he relates the whole story of the Virgin, including
the Gospel narrative generally, and ending with her assumption,
and concludes, as we have the book, with praises addressed to her
under the various names by which she is called (27,469—29,945).
This, it will be seen, is a literary work with a due connection
of parts, and not a mere string of sermons. At the same time it
must be said that the descriptions of vices and virtues are of such
inordinate length that the effect of unity is almost completely lost,
and the book becomes tiresome to read. We are wearied also by
the accumulation of texts and authorities, and by the unqualified
character of the moral judgments. The author of the book shows
little sense of proportion and little or no dramatic power.
In the invention of his allegory and in the method by which
the various parts of his work are combined, Gower displays


## p. 142 (#160) ############################################

142
John Gower
some originality. The style is uniformly respectable, though
very monotonous. There are a few stories, but they are not told
in much detail and are much inferior in interest to those of
Confessio Amantis. Yet the work is not without some poetical
merit. Every now and then we have a touch of description
or a graceful image, which proves that the writer is not merely
a moralist, but also, to some extent, a poet. The priest who neglects
his early morning service is reminded of the example of the lark,
who, rising early, mounts circling upward and pours forth from his
little throat a service of praise to God. Again, Praise is like the
bee that flies over the meadows in the sunshine, gathering that
which is sweet and fragrant, but avoiding all evil odours. The
robe of Conscience is like a cloud with ever-changing hues.
Devotion is like the sea-shell, which opens to the dew of heaven,
and thus conceives the fair, white pearl-an idea neither true to
nature nor original, but gracefully expressed. Other descriptions
also have merit, as, for example, that of the procession of the
Vices to their wedding.
The most remarkable feature of the style, however, is the
mastery which the writer displays over the language and the verse.
The rhythm is not exactly that which properly belongs to French
verse: it betrays its English origin by the fact that, though strictly
syllabic, and, in that respect, far more correct than most of the
French verse written in England, it is, nevertheless, also to some
extent an accent verse, wanting in that comparative evenness
of stress on accented and unaccented syllables alike which charac-
terises French verse.
The author of the Mirour usually proceeds on the English
principle of alternate strong and weak stress corresponding mainly
to the accentual value of the syllables. Thus, when Gower quotes
from Hélinand's Vers de la Mort, the original French lines,
Tex me couve dessous ses dras,
Qui quide estre tous fors et sains,
become, in Gower's Anglo-French,
Car tiel me couve soubz ses dras,
Qassetz quide estre fortz et seins ;
and the difference here is characteristic generally of the difference
between French and English verse rhythm.
This is a matter of some importance in connection with the
development of the highly artificial English metre employed by
Chaucer, and also by Gower and Occleve, which depended pre-


## p. 143 (#161) ############################################

Vox Clamantis
143
cisely upon this kind of combination of the French syllabic
principle with the English accent principle--a combination which,
though occasionally effected earlier, was so alien to English
traditions that it could not survive the changes caused in the
literary language by the loss of weak inflectional syllables; and,
therefore, in the fifteenth century, English metre, for a time, prac-
tically collapsed. In Chaucer's metre we see only the final results
of the French influence; in the case of Gower the process by
which the transition took place from the couplets of Handlyng
Synne to those of Confessio Amantis is clearly exhibited.
As regards matter, the most valuable part of the Mirour de
TOmme is that which contains the review of the various classes
of society, whence interesting information may often be drawn to
illustrate the social condition of the people. This is especially the
case as regards city life in London, with which the author is
evidently familiar; and he describes for us meetings of city
dames at the wine-shops, the various devices of shopkeepers to
attract custom and to cheat their customers, and the scandalous
adulteration of food and drink. The extravagance of merchants,
the discontent and luxury of labourers, and the corruption of the
law-courts are all vigorously denounced; and the church, in the
opinion of our author, is in need of reform from the top to the
bottom. Gower's picture is not relieved by any such pleasing
exception as the parish priest of the Canterbury Tales.
The material which we find in the Mirour de l'Omme is, to a
great extent, utilised again, and, in particular, the account given
of the various classes of society is substantially repeated, in
Gower's next work, the Latin Vox clamantis. Here, however,
a great social and political event is made the text for his criticism
of society. The Peasants' rising of 1381 was, to some extent,
a fulfilment of the prophecies contained in the Mirour, and it
naturally made a strong impression upon Gower, whose native
county was deeply affected, and who must have been a witness
of some of its scenes. The poem is in Latin elegiac couplets, and ·
extends to about ten thousand lines. The first book, about one-
fifth of the whole, contains a graphic account of the insurrection, -
under a more or less allegorical form, which conveys a strong
impression of the horror and alarm of the well-to-do classes.
There is an artistic contrast between the beautiful and
peaceful scene which is described at the opening of the work,
and the vague horrors by which the landscape is afterwards
darkened. The description of these events, especially so far as
.
.
P


## p. 144 (#162) ############################################

144
John Gower
it deals with what took place in London, is the most interesting
portion of the work; but it is quite possible, nevertheless, that
this may have been an afterthought. The remainder is indepen-
dent of it, and the second book begins in a style which suggests
that, originally, it stood nearer to the beginning of the work.
Moreover, in one manuscript' the whole of the first book is
actually omitted, and no mention at all of the Peasants' rising
occurs. In any case, the main substance of Vox Clamantis is an
indictment of human society, the corruptions of which are said to
be the cause of all the evils of the world. The picture which
appears in several manuscripts of the author aiming his arrows at
the world fairly represents its scope. The doctrine of the Mirour
that Man is a microcosm, the evil and disorder of which affects
the whole constitution of the elements, while the goodness of Man
enables him to subdue the material world, is found again here;
and the orders of men are examined and condemned much in the
same way, except that the political portion is more fully and
earnestly dwelt upon. Of the gradual development of Gower's
political feelings we have already said something.
There is no need to dwell much upon the poetical style of
Gower's Latin poems. Judged by the medieval standard, Vox
Clamantis is fairly good in language and in metre, but the fact
has recently been pointed out that a very large number both of
couplets and longer passages are borrowed by the author without
acknowledgment from other writers, and that lines for which
Gower has obtained credit are, in many cases, taken either from
Ovid or from some medieval writer of Latin verse, as Alexander
Neckam, Peter de Riga, Godfrey of Viterbo, or the author
of Speculum Stultorum, passages of six or eight lines being
often appropriated in this manner with little or no change. It
is certain that Gower could write very fair Latin verse, due
allowance being made for medieval licences, but we must be cautious
in giving him credit for any particular passage. In the mean time
we may observe that his contemporary account of the Peasants'
rising has some historical importance; that the development of
his political opinions, as seen in the successive revisions of Vox
Clamantis, is of interest in connection with the general circum-
stances of the reign of Richard II; and that the description of
social customs, and, particularly, of matters connected with the
city of London, confirms the account given in the Mirour.
1 Laud 719.
? See Macaulay's Gower, Vol. IV, p. xxxii, and the notes passim


## p. 145 (#163) ############################################

Confessio Amantis
145
As regards the motives which determined Gower to the com-
position of a book in English, we have his own statement in the first
edition of the book itself, that, on a certain occasion, when he was
in a boat upon the Thames near London, he met the royal barge,
and was invited by the king to enter it; that, in the conversation
which ensued, it was suggested to him that he should write some
new book, to be presented to the king; and that he thereupon
adopted the resolution of composing a poem in English, which
should combine pleasure and instruction, upon the subject of
love.
It is not necessary, however, to assume that this incident, which
was put forward by the author as a reason for the presentation
of his book to Richard, was actually the determining factor of
his decision to write in English. The years which followed
the composition of Vox clamantis, assuming it to have been
produced about 1382, were a period of hitherto unexampled
productiveness in English poetry. Chaucer, at this time, had
attained almost to the full measure of his powers, and the suc-
cessive production of Troilus and Criseyde, partly addressed to
Gower himself, about 1383, and of The Legend of Good Women,
about 1386, must have supplied a stimulus of the very strongest
kind, not only by way of recommending the use of the English
language, but also in suggesting some modification of the strictly
didactic tone which Gower had hitherto taken in his larger works.
The statement that to Gower's Confessio Amantis Chaucer
owed the idea of a connected series of tales is quite without
foundation, The Legend of Good Women certainly preceded
Confessio Amantis, which bears distinct marks of its influence,
and in The Legend of Good Women we have already a series of
tales set in a certain framework, though the framework is slight,
and no conversation connects the tales. Even if we suppose
Chaucer to have been unacquainted with Boccaccio's prose, a
supposition for which there is certainly some ground, he was fully
capable of evolving the scheme of The Canterbury Tales without
the assistance of Gower. On the other hand the influence of
Chaucer must certainly have been very strong in regard to Gower's
English work, which was probably composed in the years between
1386 and 1390, the latter year being the date of the completion of
the first edition of the poem.
The most noteworthy point of Confessio Amantis, as com-
pared with Gower's former works, is the partial renunciation by
the author of his didactic purpose. He does, indeed, indulge
10
B. L. II.
OH. VI.


## p. 146 (#164) ############################################

146
John Gower
himself in a prologue, in which he reviews the condition of the
human race; but, at the beginning of the first book, he announces
the discovery that his powers are not equal to the task of setting
the world to rights :
It stant noght in my suficance
So grete thinges to compasse,
Bot I mot lete it overpasse
And treten upon other thinges.
He avows, therefore, that, from this day forth, he intends to change
the style of his writings, and to deal with a subject which is of
universal interest, namely love. At the same time, he will not
wholly renounce his function of teaching, for love is a matter in
which men need very much guidance, but, at least, he will treat of
the subject in such a way as to entertain as well as instruct: the
book is to be
betwen the tweie,
Somwhat of lust, somwhat of lore.
Hence, though the form may suggest instruction, yet the mode
of treatment is to be popular, that is to say, the work is to consist
largely of stories. Accordingly, we have in Confessio Amantis
more than a hundred stories of varying length and of every kind
of origin, told in a simple and pleasing style by one who clearly
had a gift for story-telling, though without the dramatic humour
which makes Chaucer's stories unique in the literature of his time.
The framework, too, in which these stories are set, is pleasing.
The Lover, that is to say the author himself, is one who
has been long in the service of love, but without reward, and
is now of years which almost unfit him for such service.
Wandering forth into a wood in the month of May he feels
despair and wishes for death. The god and the goddess of love
appear to him; but the god passes him by with an angry look,
casting, at the same time, a fiery lance which pierces his heart.
The goddess remains, and to her be makes his complaint that he
has served long and received no wages. She frowns upon him,
and desires to know what service it is that he has done, and what
malady oppresses him. He professes readiness to reply, but she
enjoins upon him first a confession to be made to her priest Genius,
who, if he is satisfied, will give him absolution, and she will then
consider his case. Accordingly, Genius is summoned and Venus
disappears. The Lover, after some preliminary conversation, is
examined with regard to his sins against love, the examination
being arranged under the usual heading of the seven deadly sins


## p. 147 (#165) ############################################

Confessio Amantis
147
and their subordinate vices. The subdivision which we find in
the earlier books of Confessio Amantis is the same as that
which we have already encountered in Gower's Mirour: each sin is
regarded as having five principal offshoots ; but, in the latter
half of the work, this regularity of subdivision is, to a great
extent, abandoned.
In the case of each of the subordinate vices
the confessor sets forth the nature of the fault, and, at the
request of the Lover, illustrates his meaning by a story or by a
series of stories. In each case, after explanation of the nature
,
of the vice, & special application is made to the case of love, and
the stories illustrate either the general definition or this special
application, or both, no very clear line being drawn in many cases
between the two. The Lover, meanwhile, when he has at last been
made to understand the nature of the fault generally and also its
particular application to love, makes his confession or denial as
regards his love, and is further instructed or rebuked by the
confessor. By the general plan, one book should have been
devoted to each of the seven principal sins, Pride, Envy, Anger,
Sloth, Avarice, Gluttony and Lechery; but an additional book is
interpolated between the last two, dealing with quite irrelevant
matters, and, in general, there is much irregularity of plan in the
last four books, by which the unity of construction is seriously
marred. The ordinary conduct of the work may be illustrated
by a short summary of the second book, the subject of which is
Envy.
The first of the brood of Envy is Sorrow for another's joy. The
Lover confesses that he is often guilty of this in regard to his rivals,
and he is reproved by the tale of Acis and Galatea. He accepts
the rebuke and promises to offend no more. The second vice under
this head is Joy for another’s grief. To this, too, the Lover pleads
guilty, and the odious character of the vice is illustrated by the
story of the traveller and the angel, in which one man preferred
to lose an eye in order that his fellow might lose both. The third
is Detraction, and here, too, the Lover admits that he has been in
some measure guilty. When he sees lovers come about his mistress
with false tales, he is sometimes moved to tell her the worst that he
knows of them. The confessor reproves him. By the Lover's own
account, his lady is wise and wary, and there is no need to tell her
these tales : moreover, she will like him the less for being envious.
The vice of Detraction is then illustrated by the tale of Constance,
who long suffered from envious backbiting, but whose love at length
prevailed. Then, again, there is the story of Demetrius and Perseus,
10-2


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in which Perseus brought his brother to death by false accusations,
but suffered punishment himself at last. The confessor passes then
to the fourth vice, named False Semblant. When Envy desires to
deceive, she employs False Semblant as her messenger. The Lover
admits here, too, that he is guilty, but only in matters which concern
his mistress. He thinks himself justified in gaining the confidence of
her other lovers by an appearance of friendship, and using the know-
ledge which he thus obtains to hinder their designs. The confessor
reproves him, and cites the case of the Lombards in the city, who
feign that which is not, and take from Englishmen the profit of
their own land. He then relates the tale of Hercules and Deianira,
and how Nessus deceived her and destroyed him at last by False
Semblant. Yet there is a fifth vice born of Envy, and that is
Supplantation. The Lover declares that here he is guiltless in act,
though guilty in his thought and desire. If he had the power, he
would supplant others in the love of his lady. The confessor warns
him that thought as well as act is sin, and convinces him of the
heinousness of this particular crime by a series of short examples,
Agamemnon and Achilles, Diomede and Troilus, Amphitryon and
Geta, and also by the longer tale of the False Bachelor. This evil
is worst when Pride and Envy are joined together, as when pope
Celestine was supplanted by Boniface; and this tale also is told at
length. The Lover, convinced of the evil of Envy, desires a remedy,
and the confessor reminds him that vices are destroyed by their
contraries, and the contrary to Envy is Charity. To illustrate this
virtue the tale is told of Constantine, who, by showing mercy,
obtained mercy. The Lover vows to eschew Envy, and asks that
penance may be inflicted for that which he has done amiss.
In the other books, the scheme is somewhat similar, and, at
length, in the eighth the confession is brought to a close, and the
Lover demands his absolution. The confessor advises him to
abandon love and to set himself under the rule of reason. He,
strongly protesting, presents a petition to Venus, who, in answer,
consents to relieve him, though perhaps not in the way that he
desires. She speaks of his age and counsels him to make a beau
retret, and he grows cold for sorrow of heart and lies swooning on
the ground. Then he sees the god of love, and, with him, a great
company of former lovers arrayed in sundry bands under the guid-
ance of Youth and Eld. Youth takes no heed of him; but those
who follow Eld entreat for him with Venus, and all the lovers
press round to see. At length Cupid comes towards him and draws
forth the fiery lance with which he had formerly pierced the Lover's


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heart; and Venus anoints the wound with a cooling ointment and
gives him a mirror in which his features are reflected. Reason
returns to him, and he becomes sober and sound. Venus, laughing,
asks him what love is, and he replies with confusion that he knows
not, and prays to be excused from attendance upon her. He
obtains his absolution, and Venus bids him stay no more in her
court, but go 'wher moral vertu dwelleth,' where the books are
which men say that he has written; and so she bids him adieu and
departs. He stands for a while amazed, and then takes his way
softly homewards.
The plan of the work is not ill conceived; but, unfortunately, it
is carried out without a due regard to proportion in its parts, and
its unity is very seriously impaired by digressions which have
nothing to do with the subject of the book. After the prologue,
the first four books are conducted in a comparatively orderly
manner, though the discussion on the lawfulness of war in the
third can hardly be regarded as necessary, and the account of
the discovery of useful arts in the fourth is too slightly connected
with the subject. In the fifth book, however, a casual reference to
Greek mythology is made the peg on which to hang a dissertation of
twelve hundred lines on the religions of the world, while, in the sixth
book, the discussion of Sorcery, with the stories first of Ulysses and
Telegonus and then of Nectanabus, can hardly be regarded as
a justifiable extension of the subject of Gluttony. Worse than
this, the tale of Nectanabus is used as a pretext for bringing in as
a diversion a summary of all earthly learning, the supposed instruc-
tions of Aristotle to Alexander, which fills up the whole of the
seventh book'. The most important part of this is the treatise on
Politics, under five heads, illustrated by many interesting stories,
which occupies nearly four thousand lines. To this part of his
work, which is absolutely irrelevant to the main subject, the
author evidently attached great importance; and it is, in fact,
another lecture aimed at the king, at whose suggestion the book
was written, the author being unable to keep himself from im-
proving the occasion. This proceeding, together with the great
extension which has been given to Avarice in the fifth book, has
the effect of almost entirely anticipating the proper contents of the
eighth book. Nothing remains to be spoken of there except
Incest, with reference to which the tale of Apollonius of Tyre is
| The statement, often repeated, that Gower is largely indebted to the Secretum
Secretorum in this seventh book is quite inaccurate; very little is, in fact, drawn from
this source. The Trésor of Brunetto Latini is a much more important authority.


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told, and this, after all, has no sufficient bearing upon the subject to
justify its inordinate length. It may justly be remarked, also, that
the representation of the priest of Venus is full of absurd incon-
gruities, which reach their climax, perhaps, when he is made to
denounce Venus herself as a false goddess. In general, the
characters of the moralist and of the high-priest of love are
very awkwardly combined in his person, and of this fact the
author shows himself conscious in several passages, as I, 237 ff.
and vi, 1421 ff. The quasi-religious treatment of the subject was,
no doubt, in accordance with the taste of the age, and there is a
certain charm of quaintness both in this and in the gravity with
which morality is applied to the case of love, though this applica-
tion is often very forced. It must be admitted, also, that the
general plan of the poem shows distinct originality, and, apart from
the digressions and irrelevancies which have been noted, it is carried
through with some success. The idea of combining a variety of
stories in a single framework, with the object of illustrating moral
truths, had become familiar in the literature of western Europe
chiefly through a series of books which were all more or less of
Oriental origin. Of these, the most important were the legend of
Barlaam and Josaphat, the romance of the Seven Sages in its
various forms and Disciplina Clericalis. With these, Gower,
as we know, was acquainted, and also, doubtless, with various
examples of the attempt to utilise such stories for definitely
religious purposes in such edifying compositions as those of William
of Wadington and Robert of Brunne. Moreover, Chaucer, in his
Legend of Good Women, had already produced a series of stories
in an allegorical framework, though the setting was rather slight
and the work was left unfinished. The influence of Chaucer's
work is apparent in the opening and concluding scenes of Con-
fessio Amantis, and some suggestions were also derived from
the Roman de la Rose, in which Genius is the priest of Nature,
who makes her confession to him. But no previous writer, either
in English or in any other modern language, had versified so large
and various a collection of stories, or had devised so ingenious and
elaborate a scheme of combination.
As regards the stories themselves, there is, of course, no pretence
of originality in substance. They are taken from very various
places, from Ovid (much the most frequent source), from the Bible,
from Valerius Maximus, Statius, Benoit de Sainte More, Guido
delle Colonne, Godfrey of Viterbo, Brunetto Latini, Nicholas
Trivet, the Roman des Sept Sages, Vita Barlaam et Josaphat,


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151
Historia Alexandri and so on'. Gower's style of narration is
simple and clear; in telling a story he is neither tedious nor
apt to digress. To find fault with him because he is lacking
in humorous appreciation of character is to judge him by
altogether too high a standard. He is not on a level with Chaucer,
but he is distinctly above the level of most of the other story-
tellers of his time, and it may even be said that he is sometimes
superior to Chaucer himself in the arrangement of his incidents
and in the steadiness with which he pursues the plot of his story.
Gower is by no means a slavish follower of his authorities, the pro-
portions and arrangement of his stories are usually his own, and
they often show good judgment. Moreover, he not seldom gives a
fresh turn to a well-known story, as in the Bible instances of
Jephthah and Saul, or makes a pretty addition to it, as in the case
of the tales from Ovid of Narcissus or of Acis and Galatea. His
gift of clear and interesting narrative was, undoubtedly, the merit
which most appealed to the popular taste of the day, and the
plainness of the style was rather an advantage than a draw-
back
The stories, however, have also poetical qualities. Force and
picturesqueness cannot be denied to the story of Medea, with its
description of the summer sun blazing down upon the glistening
sea and upon the returning hero, and flashing from the golden
fleece at his side a signal of success to Medea in her watch-tower,
as she prays for her chosen knight. Still less can we refuse to
recognise the poetical power of the later phases of the same story
-first, the midnight rovings of Medea in search of enchantments
(V, 3962 ff. ), and again later, when the charms are set in action
(4059 ff. ), a passage of extraordinary picturesqueness. The tales
of Mundus and Paulina and of Alboin and Rosemund, in the first
book, are excellently told; and, in the second, the story of the False
Bachelor and the legend of Constantine, in the latter of which the
author has greatly improved upon bis materials; while, in the third
book, the tale of Canace is most pathetically rendered, far better
than by Ovid. The fourth, which is altogether of special excel-
lence, gives us Rosiphelee, Phyllis and the very poetically told
tale of Ceix and Alceone; the fifth has Jason and Medea, a most
admirable example of sustained narrative, the oriental story of
Adrian and Bardus and the well-told romance of Tereus and
Philomela. In the seventh, we find the Biblical story of Gideon
1 Gower does not seem in any instance to have been indebted to Gesta
Romanorum,
a


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John Gower
well rendered, the rape of Lucrece and the tale of Virginia. The
long story of Apollonius, in the eighth book, is not one of Gower's
happiest efforts, though it is often taken as a sample of his style
owing to the connection with Shakespeare's Pericles. His natural
taste for simplicity sometimes stands him in good stead, as in the
description of the tears of Lucrece for her husband, and the
reviving beauty of her face when he appears (VII, 4830 ff. ), a
passage in which he may safely challenge comparison with
Chaucer. The ease of his more colloquial utterances, and the
finished style of some of the more formal passages, are equally
remarkable. As examples of the second quality we may cite the
reflections of the emperor Constantine (II, 3243 ff. ), the letters of
Canace (III, 279 ff. ) and of Penelope (IV, 157 ff. ), the prayer of
Cephalus (IV, 3197 ff) and the epitaphs of Iphis (IV, 3674) and
of Thaise (VIII, 1533 ff. ).
In addition to the merits of the stories we must acknowledge a
certain attractiveness in the setting of them. The conversation
which connects the stories is distinguished by colloquial ease, and
is frequently of an interesting kind. The Lover often engages the
sympathy of the reader, and there is another character always
in the background in whom we may reasonably be interested, that
of the lady whom he serves. Gower, who was quite capable of
appreciating the delicacy and refinement which ideal love requires,
has here set before us & figure which is both attractive and
human, a charming embodiment of womanly grace and refinement.
Passing from the substance of the poem to the language and
versification, we remark, first, that the language used is, practically,
the same as that of Chaucer, and that there is every reason to
attribute this identity to the development, apart from the individual
influence of either poet, of a cultured form of English speech which,
in the higher ranks of society, took the place of the French that
had so long been used as the language of literature and of polite
society. This is not the place to discuss the development of
modern English literary speech; what we have to say in relation to
Gower is that, by the purity and simplicity of his style, he earned the
right to stand beside Chaucer as a standard authority for this
language. Sui temporis lucerna habebatur ad docte scribendum
in lingua vulgari, as Bale remarks; and it is worth noting that, in
the syntax of Ben Jonson's English Grammar, Gower is cited as an
authority more often than any other writer. It may be observed
that, by Morsbach's test of a comparison with contemporary London
documents, both Chaucer and Gower are shown to be more con-


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153
servative of the full forms of inflection than the popular speech,
and Gower is, in this respect, apparently less modern than Chaucer.
He adopted a system of spelling which is more careful and con-
sistent than that of most other Middle English authors, and, in
general, he seems to have been something of a purist in matters of
language.
With regard to versification, the most marked feature of Gower's
verse is its great regularity and the extent to which inflectional
endings are utilised for metrical purposes. We have here what we
might have expected from the author's French verse, very great
syllabic accuracy and a very regular beat, an almost complete
combination of the accentual with the syllabic principle. As an
indication of the extent of this regularity, it may be mentioned
that in the whole of Confessio Amantis, which contains more
than thirty-three thousand four-accent lines, there are no examples
of the omission, so frequent in Chaucer, of the first unaccented
syllable. Displacement of the natural accent of words and the
slurring over of light syllables are far less frequent with Gower than
with Chaucer, and in purity of rime, also, he is somewhat more
strict. The result of Gower's syllabic accuracy is, no doubt, a
certain monotony of rhythm in his verse; but, on the other
hand, the author is careful so to distribute his pauses as not
to emphasise the rime unduly. He runs on freely from one
couplet to another, breaking the couplet more often than not
in places where a distinct pause occurs, and especially at the end
of a paragraph, so that the couplet arrangement is subordinated
distinctly, as it is also by Chaucer, to the continuity of the narrative.
The five-accent line is written by Gower in stanzas only, as in the
Supplication of the eighth book and in the English poem addressed
to Henry IV. In these it is a marked success, showing the same
technical skill that we note elsewhere, with more variety of rhythm
and a certain stately dignity which can hardly appear in the short
couplet.
After Confessio Amantis, which seems to have assumed its
final form in 1393, 'the sextenthe yer of King Richard,' Gower
produced some minor Latin poems treating of the political evils of
the times; and then, on the eve of his own marriage, he added, as
a kind of appendix to Confessio Amantis, a series of eighteen
French ballades on the virtue of the married state. After the fall
of Richard II he produced three more poetical works, again in
three different languages. In English, he wrote the poem already
referred to, In Praise of Peace (Carmen de pacis commendacione)
<


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John Gower
in fifty-five seven-line stanzas. In French, we have the series of
ballades commonly known as Cinkante Balades, dealing with love
according to the conventions of the age, but often in a graceful
and poetical fashion. These may have been written earlier, but
they were put together in their present form, as the author says, to
furnish entertainment to the court of king Henry IV, and were
dedicated to the king in two introductory ballades. It is clear that
the feelings expressed are, for the most part, impersonal; sometimes
the lover speaks and sometimes the lady, and the poems are evidently
adapted to a diversity of circumstances. As poetry, they are much
superior to those on marriage, and if they had been written in
English, they would doubtless have been recognised as an interesting
and valuable addition to the literature of the time. In Latin, the
author sets forth his final view of contemporary history and politics
in the Cronica Tripertita, a poem in leonine hexameters, in which
the events of the last twelve years of the reign of Richard II are
narrated, and the causes of his deposition set forth, as seen from
the point of view of an earnest supporter of the Lancastrian party.
As the title implies, it is in three parts, the first dealing with the
events of the year 1387, and the proceedings of the appellants, the
second with the year 1397, when Richard at length took vengeance
on his opponents and the third with the deposition of Richard II
and the accession of Henry IV. This work has no poetical merits,
but a certain amount of historical interest attaches to it. Some
minor Latin poems, including an epistle addressed to the king,
also belong to this final period of Gower's literary life. Either
in the first or the second year of the reign of Henry IV he became
blind and ceased to write, as he himself tells us; and in the epistle
to archbishop Arundel, which is prefixed to Vox Clamantis in
the All Souls MS (Hanc epistolam subscriptam corde deuoto misit
senex et cecus Iohannes Gower), he touchingly dwells upon the
blessing of light
That Gower, through the purity of his English style and the
easy fluency of his expression, exercised a distinct influence upon
the development of the language, is undoubted, and, in the fifteenth
and sixteenth centuries, he was, on this account, uncritically classed
with Chaucer. He is placed with Chaucer as an equal by the
author of The Kingis Quair, by Occleve, by Dunbar, by Skelton
and even by Sidney in The Defence of Poesie. But, in fact,
though he may fairly be joined with Chaucer as one of the autho-
rities for standard English, his mind was essentially formed in a
medieval mould, and, as regards subject and treatment, he looks


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backwards rather than forwards. The modern note which was
struck by Chaucer is almost entirely absent here. This medi-
evalism, however, in itself has a certain charm, and there are
qualities of this kind in Confessio Amantis which are capable
still of giving genuine pleasure to the reader, while, at the same
time, we are bound to acknowledge the technical finish of the style,
both in the French and in the English poems. The author had a
strong feeling for correctness of language and of metre, and, at
the same time, his utterance is genuinely natural and unaffected.
In his way he solved the problem of combining rhetorical artifice
with simplicity of expression, and, if his genius moves within
somewhat narrow limits, yet, within those limits, it moves securely.


## p. 156 (#174) ############################################

CHAPTER VII
CHAUCER
Of the date of the birth of Geoffrey Chaucer we have no
direct knowledge. But indirect evidence of various kinds fixes
it between 1328, when his father, John Chaucer, was still un-
married, and 1346, before which date his own statement, at the
Scroope-Grosvenor suit in 1386, of his age as 'forty years or more'
would place it. Within this rather wide range, selection has,
further, to be guided by certain facts to be mentioned presently;
and, for some time past, opinion has. generally adopted, in face of
some difficulties, the date about 1340. ' John Chaucer himself
was a citizen and vintner of London, the son of Robert le Chaucer,
who, in 1310, was collector of the customs on wine, and who had
property at Ipswich and elsewhere in Suffolk. In 1349, John was
certainly married to an Agnes whose maiden surname is unknown,
who survived him and, in 1367, married again : therefore, unless
she was the vintner's second wife, she must have been Chaucer's
mother. The father seems to have had some link of service
with the royal household, and the poet was connected with it
more or less all his days. Probably he was born in Thames Street,
London, where his father had a house at the time of his death
in 1366.
We first hear of Chaucer himself (or, at least, of a Geoffrey
Chaucer who is not likely to be anyone else) in 1357, when
he received a suit of livery as member of the household of
Edward III's son Lionel (afterwards duke of Clarence), or of his
wife Elizabeth de Burgh. Two years later, he served in France, was
taken prisoner at a place called 'Retters' (alternately identified
with Retiers near Rennes, and with Rethel near Reims), but was
liberated on ransom by March 1360—the king subscribing £16
(= over £200 now) towards the sum paid. Seven years later,
on 2 June 1367, Edward gave him an annuity of 20 marks for
life, as to dilectus valettus noster, and he rose to be esquire at
9
:


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Life
157
the end of next year. Meanwhile, at a time earlier than that of
his own pension, on 12 September 1366, another of half the amount
had been granted to Philippa Chaucer, one of the damsels of the
queen's chamber: and this Philippa, beyond reasonable doubt,
must have been the poet's wife. If she was born Philippa Roet
or Rouet, daughter of Sir Payn Roet, a Hainault knight, and sister
of Katharine Rouet or Swynford, third wife of John of Gaunt,
Chaucer's undisputed patronage by 'time-honoured Lancaster'
would have been a matter of course. But we do not know Philippa's
parentage for certain. There is also much doubt about the family
that Geoffrey and Philippa may have had. The poet directly
dedicates, in 1391, his Astrolabe to 'little Lewis my son, who
was then ten years old; but of this son we hear nothing more.
On the other hand, chancellor Gascoigne, in the generation after
Chaucer's death, speaks of Thomas Chaucer, a known man of
position and wealth in the early fifteenth century, as Chaucer's
son : and this Thomas took the arms of Rouet late in life, while,
in 1381, John of Gaunt himself established an Elizabeth Chaucer
as a nun at Barking. Beyond these facts and names nothing
is known.
Of Chaucer himself-or, at least, of a Geoffrey Chaucer who, as
it is very important to remember, and as has not always been
remembered, may not be the same in all cases—a good many
facts are preserved, though these facts are in very few cases, if
any, directly connected with his literary position. By far the
larger part of the information concerns grants of money, sometimes
connected with the public service in war, diplomacy and civil
duties. He joined the army in France again in 1369; and, next
year, was abroad on public duty of some kind. In 1372, he was
sent to Genoa to arrange for the selection of some English port as
a headquarters for Genoese trade, and must have been absent
for a great part of the twelvemonth between the November of that
year and of the next. On St George's day 1374, he began to receive
from the king a daily pitcher of wine, commuted later for money.
In the following month, he leased the gatehouse of Aldgate from the
corporation, and, a month later again, was made controller of customs
for wool, etc. , in the port of London, receiving, in this same June,
an additional pension of £10 a year from John of Gaunt to himself
and his wife. Wardships, forfeitures and other casualties fell to
him, and, in 1377, he went on diplomatic duties to Flanders and to
France. In 1378, after the death of Edward III and the accession
of Richard II, it is thought that he was again in France and,


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158
Chaucer
later in that year, he certainly went once more to Italy, in the
mission to Bernabo Visconti of Milan. These duties did not
interfere with the controllership; to which another, that of the
petty customs, was added in 1382, and we have record of various
payments and gifts to him up to the autumn of 1386, when he sat
in parliament as knight of the shire for Kent, and gave evidence
in the Scroope-Grosvenor case.
Then the tide turned against him. In the triumph of the duke
of Gloucester and the eclipse of Gaunt during his absence in
Spain, Chaucer lost his controllership; and it would appear that,
in 1387, his wife died. In May, 1388, he assigned his pensions and
allowances to another person, which looks like (though it cannot
be said certainly to be) a sign of financial straits in the case of a
man whose party was out of favour. But the fall of Gloucester
and the return of John of Gaunt brought him out of the shadow
again. In July 1389, he was made clerk of the works to the king
at various places; and, in the next year (when, as part of his now
duty, he had to do with St George's chapel, Windsor), commissioner
of roads between Greenwich and Woolwich. This latter post he
seems to have retained; the clerkship he only held for two years.
On 6 September 1390, he fell twice in one day among the same
thieves, and was robbed of some public money, which, however, he
was excused from making good. During parts of this year and
the next, he held an additional post, that of the forestership of
North Petherton Park in Somerset. In 1394 he received from
Richard a fresh pension of £20 (say £300) a year. But, judging
by the evidence of records of advances and protections from
suits for debt, he seems to have been needy. In 1398, however,
he obtained an additional tun of wine a year from Richard; while
that luckless prince's ouster and successor, John of Gaunt's son,
added, in October 1399, forty marks to the twenty pounds, making
the poet's yearly income, besides the tun of wine, equal, at least, to
between £600 and £700 of our money. On the strength of this,
possibly, Chaucer (who had given up the Aldgate house thirteen
years before, and whose residence in the interval is unknown) took
a lease of a house in the garden of St Mary's, Westminster. But
he did not enjoy it for a full year, and dying (according to his
tomb, which is, however, of the sixteenth century) on 25 October
1400, was buried in Westminster Abbey, in the chapel of St
Benedict, thus founding Poet's Corner. That he was actually
dead by the end of that year is proved by the cessation of entries
as to his pensions. Almost every known incident in his life has


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Life
159
been mentioned in this summary, for the traditions of his residence
at Woodstock and of his beating a Franciscan friar in Fleet street
have been given up—the latter perhaps hastily. One enigmatical
incident remains-to wit, that in May 1380, one Cecilia de Chaum-
paigne gave Chaucer a release de raptu meo. There is, however,
no probability that there was anything in this case more romantic
or more shocking than one of the attempts to kidnap a ward of
property and marry him or her to somebody in whom the kidnapper
was interested-attempts of which, curiously enough, Chaucer's own
father is known to have been nearly the victim. Otherwise, 'there
is namore to seyn,' so far as true history goes. And it does not
seem necessary to waste space in elaborate confutation of un-
historical traditions and assertions, which, though in some cases
of very early origin, never had any basis of evidence, and, in most
cases, can be positively disproved. They have, for some decades, ,
passed out of all books of the slightest authority, except as matter
for refutation; and it is questionable whether this last process
itself does not lend them an injudicious survival. It will be
observed, however, that, in the authentic account, as above given,
while it is possible that some of its details may apply to a Geoffrey
Chaucer other than the poet whom we honour, there is not one
single one of them which concerns him as a poet at all. There are,
however, one or two references in his lifetime, and a chain, un-
broken for a long time, of almost extravagantly laudatory comments
upon his work, starting with actual contemporaries. Though there
can be little doubt that the pair met more than once, Froissart's
mention of him is only in reference to diplomatic and not literary
business. But Eustache Deschamps, perhaps, on the whole, the
foremost poet of France in Chaucer's time, has left a ballade of
the most complimentary character, though, already anticipating
the French habit of looking always at French literature first, it
addresses him as grant translateur, which, beyond doubt, he was.
In a certainly contemporary work of English prose, The Testament
of Love, which, for sheer want of careful examination, was long
attributed to Chaucer and which is now decided to be the work of
one Usk, who was executed in 1386 by the Gloucester faction,
Chaucer is spoken of with equal admiration, and his work is largely
drawn upon. Scogan, another contemporary and a correspondent
of his, celebrates him; and a far more important person than
these, the poet Gower, his personal friend, has left a well-known
tribute. The two principal poets of the next generation, in
England, Occleve and Lydgate, were, the former certainly,
,
,


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160
Chaucer
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6
the latter probably, personal friends likewise : and, while both
are copious in laudation, Occleve has left us a portrait of Chaucer
illuminated on the margin of one of his own MSS. Through-
out the fifteenth and early sixteenth century, the chorus of praise
from poets, Scottish as well as English, continues unabated
and uninterrupted. Caxton, though never executing a complete
edition, repeatedly prints part of the works and is followed by
others; and, towards the middle of the sixteenth century, in a
passage which writers on Chaucer have generally missed, Lilius
Giraldus, one of the foremost humanists of Italy, in a survey
of European letters, recognises the eminence of Chaucer in
English.
We must, however, now make a further advance, and turn from
the 'Chaucer' who figures in records, and the 'Chaucer' who is
eulogised as a poet, to that other sense of 'Chaucer' which
indicates the work, not the man—the work which gained for the
man the reputation and the eulogy. Uncritically accepted, and
recklessly amplified during more than three centuries, it has, since
the masterly investigations of Tyrwhitt in the latter part of the
eighteenth century, been subjected to a process of severe thinning,
on principles which will be referred to again. Of external, or
rather positive, evidence of early date, we have some, but not a
very great deal—and that not of the most unexceptionable kind.
The help of the MSS is only partial; for no one of them is ac-
cepted by anyone as an autograph, and no one of them contains
all the pieces which the severest methods of separation have left to
Chaucer. But, in two of these pieces, which themselves as wholes
are undoubted, there are lists, ostensibly by the poet, of his own
works, and cross-references in other places. The fullest of these
the list contained in the palinode or retraction at the end of The
Parson's Tale and The Canterbury Tales generally-has, indeed,
been suspected by some, apparently without any reason, except that
they would rather Chaucer had not repented of things of which, as
it seems to them, he had no reason to repent. But, even in case of
forgery, the forger would, probably, have taken care to be correct
in his attribution. This list contains Troilus; The book [House]
of Fame; The book of the XXV Ladies [Legend of Good
Women]; The book of the Duchess ; The book of St Valentine's
day of the Parliament of Birds (Fowls] ; The Canterbury Tales
themselves, where the repentance extends only to those that
'gounen into sinne'; The book of the Lion; and many others
which he cannot remember, while Boece is specified as requiring


## p. 161 (#179) ############################################

Canon of Works
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no repentance. All these exist except The book of the Lion.