English Literature for Boys and Girls. H. E. Marshall

although they are not fine folk, they are so very human we cannot help but like them; and some we do not like at all, for they are rude and rough, as the poet meant them to be.

Chapter XXIV CHAUCER—AT THE TABARD INN

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      CHAUCER begins his description of the people who were gathered at the Tabard Inn with the knight, who was the highest in rank among them.

      "A knight there was, and that a worthy man,

      … …

       And though he was worthy he was wise,

       And of his port as meek as any maid.

       He never yet no villainy ne'er said

       In all his life unto no manner wight;

       He was a very perfect, gentle knight."

      Yet he was no knight of romance or fairy tale, but a good honest English gentleman who had fought for his King. His coat was of fustian and was stained with rust from his armor, for he had just come back from fighting, and was still clad in his war-worn clothes. "His horse was good, but he ne was gay."

      With the knight was his son, a young squire of twenty years. He was gay and handsome, with curling hair and comely face. His clothes were in the latest fashion, gayly embroidered. He sat his horse well and guided it with ease. He was merry and careless and clever too, for he could joust and dance, sing and play, read and write, and indeed do everything as a young squire should. Yet with it all "courteous he was, lowly and serviceable."

      With these two came their servant, a yeoman, clad in hood of green, and carrying besides many other weapons a "mighty bow."

      As was natural in a gathering such as this, monks and friars and their like figured largely. There was a monk, a worldly man, fond of dress, fond of hunting, fond of a good dinner; and a friar even more worldly and pleasure-loving. There was a pardoner, a man who sold pardons to those who had done wrong, and a sumpnour or summoner, who was so ugly and vile that children were afraid of him. A summoner was a person who went to summon or call people to appear before the Church courts when they had done wrong. He was a much-hated person, and both he and the pardoner were great rogues and cheats and had no love for each other. There was also a poor parson.

      All these, except the poor parson, Chaucer holds up to scorn because he had met many such in real life who, under the pretense of religion, lived bad lives. But that it was not the Church that he scorned or any who were truly good he shows by his picture of the poor parson. He was poor in worldly goods:—

      "But rich he was in holy thought and work,

       He was also a learned man, a clerk

       That Christ's gospel truly would preach,

       His parishioners devoutly would he teach;

       Benign he was and wonder diligent,

       And in adversity full patient.

      . … .

       Wide was his parish, and houses far asunder,

       But he left naught for rain nor thunder

       In sickness nor in mischief to visit

       The farthest of his parish, great or lite*

       Upon his feet, and in his hand a staff.

       The noble ensample to his sheep he gave,

       That first he wrought, and afterward he taught."

      *Little.

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

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

      "A true worker and a good was he,

       Living in peace and perfect charity."

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

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

      "At meat well taught was she withal,

       She let no morsel from her lips fall,

       Nor wet her fingers in her sauce deep.

       Well could she carry a morsel, and well keep

       That no drop might fall upon her breast.*

      In courtesy was set full mickle her lest.**

       Her over lip wiped she so clean,

       That in her cup there was no morsel seen

       Of grease, when she drunken had her draught."

      *It should be remembered that in those days forks were

       unknown, and people used their fingers.

       **Pleasure.

      And she was so tender hearted! She would cry if she saw a mouse caught in a trap, and she fed her little dog on the best of everything. In her dress she was very dainty and particular. And yet with all her fine ways we feel that she was no true lady, and that ever so gently Chaucer is making fun of her.

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

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

      "A seemly man our host was withal

       For to have been a marshal in a hall.

       A large man he was with eyen stepe,*

       A fairer burgesse was there none in Chepe,**

       Bold was his speech, and wise and well y-taught,

       And of manhood him lacked right naught,

       Eke thereto he was right a merry man."

      *Bright.

       **Cheapside, a street in London.

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

      "That each of you to shorten of your way

       In this voyage shall tell tales tway*—

       To Canterbury-ward I mean it so,

       And homeward ye shall tellen other two;—

       Of adventures which whilom have befallen.

       And which of you the beareth you best of all,

       That is to say, that telleth in this case

       Tales of best sentence, and most solace,

       Shall have a supper at all our cost,

       Here in this place, sitting at this post,

       When that we come again fro Canterbury.

       And for to make you the more merry

       I will myself gladly with you ride,

       Right at mine own cost, and be your guide."

      *Twain.

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