extinguished, and the fagots that were burning become red rosebushes, and those that were not kindled became white rosebushes, full of roses. And these were the first rose-trees and roses, both red and white, that ever any man saw."

This was considered by pious readers a good, sensible story; but when Mandeville began to write out his ideas about the shape of the earth, men began to jeer at him, and laugh at his absurd notions. He gives at some length his ideas of geography and astronomy, derived from his extensive travel and observation, and finally says he believes this earth is round. "Nay, more," he says, "I tell you certainly that men may go all around the world, as well under as above, and might return so again to their own country if they had shipping and guides; and always they would find men, land, and isles as well as in our part of the world. For they who are of the antarctic are directly feet opposite of them who dwell under the polar star, as well as we and they who dwell under us are feet opposite feet." As even in the time of Columbus, a hundred and fifty years later, the theory of the roundness of the earth was not generally received, I think this argues very well for Mandeville's understanding.

"Of Paradise," says the old traveller, simply, "I cannot speak properly, for I was not there. . . . The earthly paradise, as wise men say, is the highest place of the earth, and it is so high that it nearly touches the circle of the moon there as the moon makes her turn. And it is so high that the flood of Noah might not come to it. . . . And this Paradise is enclosed all about with a wall, and men know not whereof it is, for the wall is covered all over with moss, as it seems, and it seems not that the wall is natural stone. And you shall understand that no man that is mortal may approach to that Paradise, for by land no man may go, for wild beasts that are in the deserts, and for the high mountains and great huge rocks that no man may pass by for the dark places that are there; and by the rivers may no man go, for the water runs so roughly and so sharply, because it comes down so outrageously from the high places above that it runs in so great waves that no ship may row or sail against it. . . . Many lords have assayed with great will many times to pass by those rivers towards Paradise, with full great com

panies, but they might not speed in their voyage, and many died for weariness of rowing against the strong waves, and many of them became blind, and many deaf by the noise of the water, and some perished and were lost in the waves; so that no mortal man may approach that place without special grace of God; so that of that place I can tell you no more."

You will more fully understand how slightly English was esteemed as the language of literature when I tell you that Mandeville, according to his own account, first wrote his Travels in Latin, then translated them into French, and lastly put them into English, so as to be sure every man of his nation might be able to read them. The extracts I have given are in more modern English than he wrote; but his English is hardly more difficult that Chaucer's, and he is generally spoken of as the first prose writer in our language who can be read by a modern reader unacquainted with old English.

Last of the group before Chaucer comes John Gower, a very tiresome old poet whom nobody reads nowadays. 1320-1402

Chaucer gave him the title of "Moral Gower," which has stuck to him from that time to this. He wrote three books, one in Latin, one in French, and one in English. The English book has the Latin title of Confessio Amantis (the Confessions of a Lover). But although these Confessions are illustrated by a great many stories, many of which are interesting and have been used over again with much better effect by later poets, yet, on the whole, Gower is so dull that we will leave him for a much more interesting man, his friend and superior, Geoffrey Chaucer.

G

XII.

ON GEOFFREY CHAUCER, HIS LIFE AND POETRY.

EOFFREY CHAUCER, the Father of English Poetry what a proud title to wear for so Born 1328 many hundred years!· is a different sort of poet or 1340. from John Gower, whom I have just mentioned. Died 1400. The two men seem to have been good friends, however, and in the Confessions of a Lover, the goddess Venus tells the lover to

"Grete wel Chaucer when ye mete,

As my disciple and my poete,"

-

which is a compliment that Chaucer might well have returned by his epithet of "Moral Gower."

We do not know with certainty the date of Chaucer's birth. Some of his biographers think it is 1328; others, 1340. The first date is the one which has been the longest believed to be the true one; the last is that accepted by several modern scholars. For my part, I think the exact date really makes very little difference, so long as we know the great events amid which his life was surely passed, the great ideas which were current in the age during which he must have lived in full mental vigor, and the fact that this group of literary men of whom I have spoken were his contemporaries. We know that he died in 1400, and lived in the reigns of three kings, - Edward III., Richard II., and Henry IV.

We do not know much about the early part of his life. He was born in London, the son of a wine-dealer. One of the first certain facts in his life, after the uncertain date of his birth, is that he was a member of a noble family as one of the pages of the household, which, in those days, was a respectable, indeed an honorable, capacity. He was with the army of Edward III. when it went to invade France in

1359, and Chaucer was then made prisoner, and ransomed afterwards by the king. After this we hear of him frequently in the court records, once as having a pitcher of wine sent him every day from the royal wine-cellars; another time as getting a pension from the Crown for services rendered; again as one of the ambassadors who went to France to arrange the marriage of Richard II.; and as concerned in other diplomatic missions. We know that his friend and patron was John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster, called by Shakespeare "time-honored Lancaster," whose son became King Henry IV. Chaucer married a Lady Philippa, and it is claimed by several writers that John of Gaunt married a sister of this very lady. If this was so, Chaucer and his noble patron were brothersin-law.

John of Gaunt was at one time the head of the Wycliffe party, and although he did not follow so far as Wycliffe led, he aided him in his earlier fight against papal power by his strong influence. It is probable that Chaucer also sympathized with Wycliffe, and that he took the generous side in religion and politics. I am sure I hope so, for I like to associate the "Father of English Poetry" with freedom of thought and speech, and to believe that he was as much of a man as a poet, or the better poet that he was a liberal, outspoken man. Almost at the close of his century, and near the end of his life, Chaucer took a house on the lands of Westminster Abbey, and sat down there to spend his latest days. When he died, he was buried in the Abbey, and you may there read his name on the stones of the wall in the "Poet's Corner," the first of that long line of great names which adorns that sacred spot in the grand old building.

Chaucer wrote many works, sometimes in prose, although most commonly in verse. Many of his earlier poems are little more than translations. The Roman de la Rose, which first made him known as a poet, was a translation from two French writers, although we may be sure Chaucer could not handle anything without leaving a good deal of himself

in it. He never made any pretence of originality, and always shows himself a sincere man and without affectation in his work. Others of his principal poems are The House of Fame, The Book of the Duchess, The Legend of Good Women, The Assembly of Fowls, Troilus and Cressida. We have not time to look at these, but must come at once to his great work, The Canterbury Tales, the only one of his poems which is much read nowadays.

The Canterbury Tales is a collection of stories told by a party of men and women who meet at the Tabard Inn, which was situated in the High Street of Southwark, near London, to set out on a pilgrimage to the shrine of Saint Thomas à Becket in Canterbury cathedral, about fifty miles distant. They are a company taken from all ranks of life, and almost every condition is represented. Their number is nine-and-twenty, when they are joined by the poet and the host of the Tabard Inn.

In the Prologue, which forms the preface of the stories, nearly every person in the party is described in an easy and familiar style, as if Chaucer was introducing you in a manner to make you perfectly well acquainted with his character. Each figure drawn by his pen seems like a real person whom we see, rather than read about. The modern novelist, who prides himself on drawing life-like pictures of the men and women of this day, has never succeeded better than the old poet, who gives so perfect an idea of a group of every-day persons of the fourteenth century.

First of all comes the Knight, "who from the time he first began to riden out, he loved chivalry, truth, honor, freedom, and courtesy." He had been in many wars in the South and East, at the taking of Alexandria, at the siege of Grenada, and in wars against the heathen Turk. Yet, like other truly brave men, he is gentle and unassuming, "as meek of port as is a maid." "In truth," says Chaucer, "a very perfect, gentle knight." The next character, that of the Knight's son, the Squire, is a very different sort of person. He is a dashing young fellow, with curling hair and fair complexion; a fine horseman, who can also dance gracefully,