and small birds. great, of knights or strangers, can either enter the city at any hour of day or night, or leave it, but all may be supplied with provisions; so that those have no occasion to fast too long, nor these No number so | them to Canterbury on the morrow. But this THE TABARD INN, Southwark.-From a sketch by J. W. Archer. After this worthy landlord, let us consider his guests, as they are seated round the supper table. And first in rank as in worth, to depart the city without their dinner." Now, | comes the knight, "a very perfect gentle knight," however, the Tabard inn was only one of several hostelries in the suburb of Southwark. It was so called, from having a tabard or knight's coat, with the arms embroidered on it, painted upon the sign-board. Here the chambers and stables, the poet tells us, were wide, and all the company were accommodated with the best. The landlord was in good keeping with his inn, for he was a man of such aspect, bearing, and management, that he was fit to have been a "marshal in a hall," where his office would have been to arrange the places of lords and noble dames, and the order of their entertainment. With his imposing portly person, measured step, and judicious conversation, as one that "was wise and well ytaught," he was also a "right merry man," who could season his good cheer with lively conversation. All this was nothing more than necessary at a time when landlords of inns were not merely the attendants, but also the hosts of the company in the proper sense of the term-receiving and entertaining the guests, of whatever rank, as visitors, and presiding at the banquets they had prepared for them. In this way, he sits down with Chaucer and the twentyuine pilgrims to the excellent supper, where there was "victual of the best," and abundance of strong wine, and takes a principal part in the conversation. So eager, too, is he to promote their happiness, that, understanding the nature of their pilgrimage, he proposes to accompany as the author tells us, in whom he gives us a pleasing portraiture of the best features in the chivalry of the period. Ever since he could ride he had been a lover of the honoured order to which he belonged, and had cultivated the virtues which the knightly vow enjoined-truth and honour, freedom and courtesy. He had been faithful to the noble of whom he held in fee, and had served him in his wars; he had also seen service beyond most men both in Christendom and Heathenesse, and everywhere been honoured for his worth. When the poet proceeds to detail, we might have expected to find some mention of the knight's achievements at Crecy and Poictiers; but as these were too nigh and too recent for the purposes of poetry, Chaucer prefers telling us that he had been at the capture of Alexandria, that he had served in Prussia against the Lithuanian idolaters, that he had fought in Spain against the Moors, and that in his military capacity he had been employed both in Africa and Asia. He had been in fifteen mortal battles, and thrice in single combat in the lists, where each time he had slain his antagonist. And yet, with all these chivalrous deeds and travels in many lands, it is touchingly added, that he was "meek as a maid," and had never in speech given offence to human being. In all these we recognize him as one of the last relics of the crusading spirit, by which chivalry was matured to its full height. His equipments were of that simple kind that best suited such a cha- | ately wound up with the following substantial racter, being a good, but not a showy horse, and qualifications:— a short cassock of fustian, somewhat soiled with his coat of mail, for he was just arrived from a voyage, and eager to discharge his religious "Curteis he was, lowly, and servisable, Such was the stuff of which the master-spirits CANTERBURY PILGRIMS.-From Lydgate's Tale of Thebes. Royal MS. 18 D. ii. - duties on landing, by a pilgrimage to the shrine | outward appearance and dress of such a youth of Thomas à Becket. Most fitly, indeed, was were matters of the highest importance, Chausuch a character made to tell the heart-stirring, cer presents him to us as of fair shape and stayet pure and gentle tale of "Palamon and Arcite." ture, and wonderfully nimble in movementAnd now succeeds his young son the squire. with his locks curled as if they had been laid in As the father was the type of that stern and sober a press-his dress embroidered like a meadow age which predominated under Edward III. and with red and white flowers, while its chief article the Black Prince, when the wars with Scotland is a short gown with long and wide sleeves. and France gave full occupation to the best and In attendance upon both knight and squire, was the worst of English society, the son is one of only a single servant, but still too worthy a perthose gay young gallants whom the more joyous sonage to be dismissed with hasty notice; for reign of Richard II., like a sunshine, had called he was a yeoman-one of those who were now into full life and flutter. And yet, no thoughtless fast rising into a middle class in England, and profligate was he, but one worthy to call the "per- who held their snug little farms by a tenure of fect knight" his father. In appearance, he was military attendance or service without the degraabout twenty years old; but in his capacity of dation of bondage; and as such men took an equal squire, he had already seen some campaigning share with their lords in the toils of campaigning in Flanders, Artois, and Picardy, where he had and the dangers of battle, a reciprocity of feeling borne himself gallantly in the hope of gaining his and frankness of intercourse was the natural relady's favour-for without such a motive, he sult of such an union. He is described as having would have been unworthy of the spurs which a nut-head-round, or brown, or hard as a nut, he hoped to win. He was also in love, not poeti- or perhaps all three - while his outer clothing cally or platonically only, but in good earnest, so consisted of a coat and hood of green. This was that under the influence of his passion he slept the characteristic costume of a forester, which, no better than a nightingale. And then, too, he Chaucer informs us, he was; and in addition to was well fitted by his accomplishments to win his green hood and jerkin, he wore, as the ineven a proud lady's favour; for independently of signia of his craft, a green baldric, a horn at his his military character, which had commenced so side, and on his breast a St. Christopher of silver. fairly, he could sit his horse firmly and ride His weapons, too, were in full conformity, for gracefully, compose songs and sing them, write they consisted of a sword and buckler hanging and limn almost like a clerk, and show his skill at his side, a sharp dagger, a mighty bow, and in the joust, and his nimbleness in the dance; a sheaf of arrows feathered from the plumage while his happy temper was such, that he was of the peacock, which he carried in his belt; generally singing or playing on the flute all day while it is shown that these perilous shafts could long. All these accomplishments are appropri- be directed into instant use by the bracer of VOL. I. 65 leather which he wore upon his arm. Thus fully | swearers. Their kings swore upon the throne, equipped either for distant or standing fight, he is too important a person in that worshipful company to be treated as a mere underling, or compelled to follow in humble silence; and when his turn arrives, perhaps his tale of the gay greenwood will rank among the best. through the whole gamut of blasphemy, each having his favourite note, from the loud-sounding "By the splendour of God!" thundered from the deep chest of William the Conqueror, to the “Od's fish!" whistled through the lips of Charles II. Bishops, abbots, and priests swore, and that so After these representatives of the military copiously, and with such wonderful inflections profession in its higher and lower stages, we now and variations, that it seemed as if in many cases turn to those of the church, who, as might be their theological studies had only enlarged their supposed, form a considerable part of the pilgrim- nomenclature of swearing. And as for the miliage. And first comes Madame Eglantine, the tary men, "our armies in Flanders," who swore gentle prioress, clothed in her wimple or neck so terribly, were but the lees and dregs of the covering "full semely ypinched," her handsome English soldiery of Crecy and Azincourt, who black cloak and white tunic beneath, indicating marched, charged, fought, and even died swearthe Benedictine order; and carrying dependent ing, insomuch that the French, whose favourite from her arm a string of coral beads, to which vice lay in a different direction, were astonished was attached a gold locket, having engraved upon at this incomprehensible prodigality of wickedit the simple posey, Amor vincit omnia. It is evi-ness, and were wont to call an Englishman a dent from her character that this amor has no re- "God-damn-me," from the watch-word that was ference to the earthly passion: this she forswore constantly on his lips. The fashion was adopted at the altar, and well has she kept her vow. And by the different classes of civil society; and yet, how fitted she was to be admired and loved, through all its ranks, men and women swore so from the description of her noble fair forehead, ruthlessly, that a mouth could scarcely open bat "almost a span broad," her nose long and well out there flew an oath. These oaths, too, geneproportioned, her eyes gray, and "her mouth full rally varied in form, like garments or personal small and thereto soft and red!" Her education ornaments, according to the fashion of the age or had well qualified her for such high church office, occupation of the swearer. It was a vile national for she sang the church service "entuned in her characteristic; and being national, it was so innose full sweetly," and could speak French fairly fectious, that even the devout and virtuous fell and fluently. It is noted, however, that hers into it as part and parcel of the current speech was such French as was learned at Stratford-at- of the realm. Viewed in this light, Chaucer's the-Bow, so that she did not understand such as prioress was indeed a miracle of goodness, and was spoken at Paris. This Stratford school was her "Saint Loy" was innocence itself compared evidently the prototype of those female modern with the deep-mouthed expletives of her travelboarding schools in or near London, where ling companions. French was taught so admirably, that its pupils, on visiting the French capital, were able to discover that the Parisians could not speak their own language. She had also been taught to eat so daintily, that not a morsel should fall from her lips, or a drop of sauce from her fingers, while travelling from the dish to her mouth. Such was the finished table education of a young lady of rank when forks were unknown. In her character she was so humble, that she disliked her high rank on account of the stateliness it obliged her to assume; so tender-hearted, that she would weep if she but saw a mouse dying in a trap; and so benevolent, that she kept a family of small hounds which she fed with roast meat, milk, and wastel bread. How else could a prioress expend the affections of a heart so uncorrupted and unsoured? But the best of her good qualities re-edged at the cuff with fur of the richest, and his mains to be noticed: her speech was so pure, that her only oath was "By Saint Loy." This was wonderful continence of tongue, when we remember for how many centuries the English were renowned over the world as a nation of hard After her comes a monk, and such a monk as was well qualified to be an abbot. This, however, was not on account of his learning, but his love of riding and skill in hunting, which were certain to recommend him to the patronage of the noblest. His stable was his library, where he had many a dainty horse; his greyhounds were as swift of foot as a fowl is of flight; and all his cares were for hare-hunting, upon which he spared no cost. He was a true clerical Nimrod of the fourteenth century, and many such there appear to have been in England. Even his taste is shown in his pilgrimage, for though bound on a religious duty, his embossed bridie jingled in the wind as loud and clear as a chapel bell, as he ambled along upon his sleek berrybrown palfrey; the sleeves of his gown were hood was fastened under his chin with a gold pin, curiously headed with a love-knot; while his face, which was in keeping with his portly figure, shone as if it had been anointed with oil. His deserts will doubtless promote him to an abbey, where his stud and his pack will be amplified tenfold. With the monk was a friar, of different but not more commendable character and pursuits. While the former was well provided for by his monastery, and had no care for the morrow, the latter, belonging to a mendicant order of the priesthood, is dependent upon his own industry, and his acceptance with the people. But in this he is so successful that he scarcely needs to envy his more showy brother. This man is described as "a wanton and a merry," full of dalliance and fair language, and who, to make his speech all the sweeter, affected a lisp in his utterance. Moreover, he could sing well and play upon the harp and rote; and while he sang, his merry musical eyes twinkled in his head like stars in a frosty night. Then, in person, he was as strong as a champion, while his neck was as white as a fleur-de-lis. Who could resist such attractions? Not the jolly franklins to whom he was a welcome guest-not the taverns that were his favourite haunts-not the women, of whom he was the gentlest and easiest, as well as most attractive of father confessors. Accordingly, wherever he went, the daintiest cheer awaited his coming, the richest dole blessed his departure, and he was the best beggar, as well as the merriest man in all the house. His garb was in full harmony with his character, so that he was more like a pope than a cloisterer; his semi-cope was of double worsted, voluminous, and round as a bell, and his tippet was always stuffed with pins and knives, as presents to bestow upon the pretty women who were his penitents. To sum up his character, while he eschewed the society of the poor as if they had been very lazars, and stuck to the rich and opu-able pedlars of the small wares of the church, who lent, he could also "devour widows' houses," so that if they had but a shoe, he would manage in his begging to extract a farthing. Such were the qualities most in vogue among the mendicant friars of the day; and such men, the poet, like the rest of his tuneful brethren who prepared the way for the Reformation, was little inclined to spare. But a still worse character was to succeed; this was the sompnour or summoner, one of those ecclesiastical officers whose vocation was to serve citations upon offenders for trial in the church courts. The friar, whose order depended upon public charity, made himself all things to men, though not exactly in the sense of the apostle; but the summoner, who had no such necessity, being an office-bearer dressed in a little brief authority, exhibited all the sensuality and knavery of the former, but without those jovial qualities with which they were disguised. A more disgusting personage, indeed, than this sompnour could scarcely be described, and he seems to have held, though with many aggravations, the same odious characteristics that were attributed by distressed genius to the bum-bailiffs of a later period. And first, as to his personal appearance, he had a "fire-red cherubim's face" (a fallen one, of course), which was so scalded, whelked, and bepimpled, that children fled from its presence, while no brimstone, litharge, or quicksilver, could quench the flame, or purify the foul source from which it was kept in fuel. But, indeed, his mode of feeding rather cherished it, for garlic, onions, and leeks were his favourite dainties, and strong wine as red as blood his chief drink, in which he indulged so deeply, that in his cups he would become as vociferous as a madman. To complete this loathly description, we are informed that he was as "lecherous as a sparrow"-but what else could such a face and such habits betoken?-and moreover, that he was a pimp, who not only ministered to the guilt of others, but taught them how to brave its consequences with the church, or buy its remission. With all his ugliness, he has a very comfortable opinion of his personal attractions, and endeavours to heighten them, by wearing upon his head a garland of most preposterous amplitude. He also sets up for a scholar and philosopher, upon the strength of a few Latin sentences which he has picked up in office, and which he utters like a jay without knowing their meaning, but is glad to cut the matter short whenever a better scholar than himself is disposed to enter with him into controversy. Did the church select such a summoner by way of giving the culprit a foretaste of coming punishment? Side by side with this sompnour, likeabject superstition coupled in leash with brute sensuality, rides a pardoner, one of those miser all travelled from town to town, and from country to country, selling dispensations for sin, and exhibiting miraculous relics, by which a crowd could be advanced whole leagues heavenward for as many pence. These were the men upon whom such writers as Boccaccio, Chaucer, and Sir David Lindsay especially delighted to fasten, as the most legitimate objects of their satire, when graver personages might not be safely assailed. He has brought with him from Rome a wallet brimful of pardons, as well as a mail stuffed with miraculous treasures, such as a veil of the Virgin Mary, a fragment of St. Peter's sail, and other commodities of like wonderment, made for the nonce out of rags, stones, and other such rubbish. He has for his badge a vernicle or miniature picture of Christ, copied from the miraculous impress on the handkerchief in St. Peter's Church, sewed upon the front of his cap, to show that he had actually come from Rome; and his long lanky hair, as straight and yellow as flax, streams from under it, and overspreads his shoulders. Side by side he rides along with his fast friend, | An imposing person he certainly was, for he was the sompnour; and letting their vocation for clothed in red Persian silk, lined with taffeta and the time go to sleep, they cheer the dulness of sendal, and in all the world none could speak like the way by a lusty song in chorus, of which the him upon matters of medicine and surgery. No burden is "Come hither, love, to me." patient could therefore be so unreasonable as to tamper with his prescriptions, or be doubtful of a cure. And, moreover, he had read all the learned works of his profession written by its greatest masters-Dioscorides, Hali, Aviccena, Averrhoes, Galen, Serapion, and many others, whose very names could have called up health itself "from the vasty deep," though pill and potion had been set aside. But with all this vast reading, we are slyly told, that "his study was but little on the Bible;" a usual consequence of half-learning, or knowledge of a science as yet crude and imperfect: the doctor was either sceptic or materialist, or one who was indifferent to religion altogether. As a man, however, must believe in the supernatural even though he should discard all religion, and be afraid of ghosts though he should have no fear of a God, our learned physician, with all his wondrous professional knowledge, put his chief trust in the stars, and consulted them in every difficulty. With him it was not enough that the medicament should be made according to the strictest rule; there must be a propitious twinkle in the sky for the hour and mode of its application. All this devotion to the stars, however, was subservient to a less elevated feeling, for he "loved gold in special," and was the most charmed by the glitter It was fortunate for a church so soon doomed to perish, that she had better guides than these, so that she might fall at least with dignity, if she could not survive with honour; and accordingly, besides the gentle prioress, who has passed by like one of the lambs of her own fold, we have the Oxford clerk mounted upon his lean horse, and musing deep and learned thoughts as he wends along undisturbed by the din of such uncongenial brethren. But we shall have more of him anon, when we come to treat of the men of learning, among whom he takes his proper place. But now comes the best of Chaucer's characters, in "the good man of religion," the poor parson of a country town; a sketch which Goldsmith evidently had before his eye, when he delineated his "country clergyman," and Cowper, when he sought to describe " a preacher such as Paul." It is indeed too good, too beautiful and apostolic for other handling than that of Chaucer himself, and therefore we pass it by with lingering look and a reverential bow. This portrait, however, we may mention, has an interesting pendicle attached to it, in the brief description of the ploughman, brother to the parson; and in this peasant we see the effects of such a ministry upon the humble orders of a rural population. PLOUGHMAN AND PLOUGH.-From MS. of Piers Plowman. of his fee. And now comes the serjeant-at-law, wary and wise, and full of reverence and discretion. Men of his profession were of higher office and standing in the days of Chaucer than at present; for the most learned of their number frequently acted as judges; and that they needed to belong to the wealthy classes of society is evident, from the splendid He is a true man of toil and industry; a true son | feast which they usually gave on their first in of the church, to which he pays tithe well and "God loved he beste with alle his herte Having thus considered the principal personages of the church, the learned professions of law and medicine should rightly follow; and of these, the Canterbury pilgrims contain the appropriate types. And first comes the doctor of physic. vestment. It was a great dinner "like to the feast of a king's coronation," continuing for seven days, and upon which he was to expend not less than 400 marks. He was also to present a gold ring to every one who had been at his investiture throughout the whole court, and give new liveries or suits to all the members of his household. So we are informed by Dugdale, in his Origine Judiciales. It is no wonder, therefore, that we are told of our serjeant: "Justice he was ful often in assise, By patent, and by pleine commissioun; |