From The Quarterly Review. there are traces on it of the whitewash or the paint with which the eighteenth cenIt is now about a century since the tury thought it well to "touch up" anstudy of Chaucer began to revive. Be- cestral images; but yet it is not easy to tween the time of Verstegan and Tyr- overstate the importance or the merit of whitt the "Restitution of Decayed In- the service he performed. From the pubtelligences" was published in 1605, Tyr- lication of his volumes may be dated the whitt's memorable work in 1775- he had, renewal of the critical and the appreciaby slow degrees, fallen nearly altogether tive study of the greatest literary producout of the general knowledge of men. tions of the English Middle Ages. The He, whom Spenser called "the well of impulse they gave has been perpetually English undefiled," was vulgarly accused strengthened and multiplied by various of having poisoned and corrupted the tendencies and movements, both of a springs of his native tongue. He whom general and a particular character. At that same Spenser - the sweetest melo- the present time a Chaucer Society has dist of our literature-looked up to as been formed, and under the zealous leadhis verse-master and exemplar, was stig-ership of Mr. Furnivall, its founder and matized as a very metrical cripple and idiot. And what little acquaintance there was maintained with him was due to versions of certain of his poems made by the facile pens of Dryden, and of Pope; so completely had he fallen on what were for him "evil days" and "evil tongues." To Tyrwhitt belongs the honour of first reinstating the old poet on the pedestal from which he had been so rudely deposed so long a time. Proper consideration being made for the age in which that admirable scholar lived, his edition of Chaucer's "Canterbury Tales" must be pronounced a wonder of erudition and of faithful labour. Certainly the figure of Chaucer which he presented to the eyes of his time is not a quite genuine thing; don. Chaucer Society's Publications for 1868-72. LonFIRST SERIES: Texts.-1. The Prologue and First Sixteen Tales of the Canterbury Tales from the six best inedited Manuscripts, namely, the Ellesmere, Hengwrt, 154; Cambridge, Gg. 4, 27; Corpus (Oxford), Petworth and Lansdowne, 851; both in parallel columns and separate octavos, with colored facsimiles of the Tellers of all the Tales, from the Ellesmere MS. 2. A Parallel Text Edition of the first four Minor 2. Essays on Chaucer. By Professor Ebert, &c. 5. Originals and Analogues of Chaucer's Canterbury organizer and almost sole worker, is doing excellent service* in bringing within common reach the original texts of the great poet. Of various other ways in which in the course of this century, and especially in our own generation, some popular, as well as scholarly, familiarity with one of our greatest minds has been encouraged and promoted, it is not our purpose now to speak. Let it suffice to say that Chaucer has never been known since his own day more intelligently and more admiringly than he seems likely to be during the last quarter of this nineteenth century. It is certain that this Chaucerian revival is not the result of any mere antiquarianism, but of a genuine poetic vitality. There can be no better testimony to the true greatness of the old poet than that half a thousand years after the age in which he wrote he is held in higher estimation than ever; that, whatever intermissions of his popularity there may have been in times that cared nothing for, as they knew little of, the great Romantic School to which he belonged, and that were wholly incapable of understanding the very language in which he expressed and transcribed his genius, he this day speaks with increasing force and power. Through all the obsoleteness of his language, and all the lets and impediments to a full enjoyment of his melody caused by our ignorance of fourteenth So far as its funds, which, we are sorry to say, are by no means flourishing, allow it. century English, through all the conventional and social differences which separate his time from ours, we yet recognize a profoundly human soul with a marvellous power of speech. We are discovering that he is not only a great poet, but one of our greatest. It is not too much to say that the better acquaintance with Chaucer's transcendent merits is gradually establishing the conviction that not one among all poets deserves so well as he the second place. Chaucer and Shakespeare have much in common. However diverse the form of their greatest works, yet in spirit there is a remarkable likeness and sympathy. Their geniuses differ rather in degree than in kind. Chaucer is in many respects a lesser Shakespeare. Chaucer lived generations before the dramatic form was ripe for the use of genius. In his day it had scarcely yet advanced beyond the rude dialogue and grotesque portraiture of the Miracleplay. In fact at that time that rare growth, which two centuries later was to put forth such exquisite imperishable flowers, had hardly yet emerged from its native earth; it was yet only embryonic. Chaucer stands in relation to the supreme Dramatic Age in a correspondent position to that held by Scott. Chaucer lived in the morning twilight of it, Scott in the evening. There can be little doubt that both would have added to its lustre that England would have boasted one more, and Scotland at least one great dramatist — had they been born later and earlier respectively; but Chaucer could not even descry it in the future, so far off was it, and it was Scott's fortune to look But although the form which was to receive such splendid usage from Shakespeare, and to prove the very amplest and fittest and noblest body for the highest dramatic spirit, was not yet ready for wear in the culminating epoch of the Middle Ages, yet that dramatic energy which blazed out so brilliantly at a later period was already at work and insisting on some representation. It worked with vehemence in Chaucer. He is pre-eminently the dramatic genius, not only of mediæval England, but of medieval Europe. The great Italians of the bright dawn of modern literature were not of the dramatic order. Much as Chaucer undoubtedly owed to them, they furnished him with no sort of dramatic precedent or example. He is the first in time of modern dramatical spirits; and one must travel far back into the ancient times before one meets with anybody worthy of comparison with him. Certainly if, as has been remarked, it was in Dante that Nature showed that the higher imagination had not perished altogether with Virgil, it was in Chaucer that she showed that dramatic power had not breathed its last with Plautus and Terence. In respect of means of expression Chaucer was placed in a much more unprovided and destitute position than was Shakespeare. We have already seen that neither Tragedy nor Comedy,* in the strict sense of those terms, was known in his day; whereas nothing can be wronger than to make Shakespeare say, as Dryden makes him say,— I found not, but created first the stage. The stage was already not only in existence, but occupied by wits of no contempt back upon it in the swiftly receding dis- ible rank, when Shakespeare appeared in tance. Absalon of the "Milleres Tale": Sometime to shew his lightnesse and maistrie Town. Shakespeare had in Marlowe a *See the prologue to "Monkes Tale":- In the Elizabethan age this part of Herod had become a proverb of rant; so that Hamlet uses the name as the very superlative of noise (act iii. scene 2). The Miller himself cries out "in Pilate's voice." The wife of Bath, with Clerk Jankin and her gossip dame Ales, goes to "Playes of Miracles." Shakespeare laughs at the rough amateurs of the old stage in the by-play of the "Midsummer Night's Dream." In Chaucer's age perhaps Bottom would have been regarded as a very Roscius, and that interlude of Pyramus and Thisbe might As to the term Comedy, observe, for instance, Dante's have drawn genuine tears down medieval cheeks. use of it. ence of that master there can be no doubt, though perhaps it has not been, and is not, as adequately recognized and acknowledged as it should be by Shakesperian critics and commentators. And Marlowe did not stand alone; he was one, certainly the most eminent one, of a group whose starry lights it is not easy to see in the intense brightness flowing from the great sun that uprose amongst them; but they were and are, of no faint brilliancy, so long as they had the firmament to themselves, unsuffused by an overpowering glory. But for Chaucer there were no such predecessors at home or abroad. Naturally enough, it would seem that it was not till comparatively late in life that he discovered the best vehicle of self-expression. For many years his genius struggled for a fitting language. Like all poets, he began by imitating the models he found current. He dreamed dreams, and saw visions in the conventional mode. He echoed whatever sweet sounds reached his quick sensitive ears from any quarter. He translated, with a quite touching humble-mindedness, received masterpieces of French and of Italian literature. Through all these labours his originality was gradually developing. For all his efforts his genius would not keep to the beaten path, but would perpetually strike out some new way for itself and forget the appointed route. At last he started altogether alone, looking no longer for old footprints to retrace or any established guide-posts. He discovered a fair wide country that had lain untrodden for ages, over whose tracks the grass or the moss had grown, and here he advanced as in some fresh new world : Parnassi deserta per ardua dulcis Raptat amor; juvat ire jugis, qua nulla priorum Castaliam molli devertitur orbita clivo. Chaucer's great work is but a noble fragment. It seems certain that many troubles beset the declining years of his life. We think it may be doubted whether he was endowed with that excellent commercial prudence which so eminently distinguished Shakespeare. It was certainly a happy circumstance for Shakespeare may be believed, to his own sound judgment-that he never became in any way a satellite or retainer of the Court of James I., but escaped from the rapidly degenerating atmosphere of the Blackfriars and the Whitehall of the seventeenth century to his home at Stratford. Chaucer was not so fortunate. He was attached to one of the most extravagant and frivolous circles that ever gathered round a monarch of a like description. However noble-natured, he could scarcely live in such company without some contamination. Assuredly his works have stains upon them contracted in that evil air, much as Beaumont and Fletcher are flushed and spotted by the contagions of James I.'s time. And with that Court connection it is impossible not to associate the extreme pecuniary difficulties, of which there are only too manifest signs at a certain period of Chaucer's life. Probably it was these piteous, but seemingly not inevitable or reproachless, distresses that impeded the completion of the "Canterbury Tales." The original design, indeed, is in itself too vast for realization. Chaucer commits the same error in this respect as Spenser does. But it may well be believed that had Chaucer matured his work, he would either have retrenched his plan, or by some device have brought its execution within tolerable dimensions. The part that happily was written has evidently not received the finishing touch. The Prologue itself, perhaps, was never finally revised; in our opinion the "wel nyne and twenty in a companye," of line 24,* requires correction, for the poet added to his pilgrims as his work proceeded; in the case of the "Persoun" he deviates from his programme in not telling us "in what array that " he "was inne." Had the work been fully completed, especially had more of those Inter-prologues been written, in which Chaucer's dramatic power more particularly displays itself, and the figures portrayed in the initial Prologue are with admirable skill shown in self-consistent action, being permitted * For another solution of this difficulty see the Aldine a circumstance due in a great measure, it | Chaucer, i. 209, ed. 1872. to speak for themselves and develop their the treasury is always overflowing, beown natures, there can be little doubt cause all things bring them tribute. that the claims upon our admiration For skill in characterization who can would have been greatly multiplied. be ranked between Chaucer and ShakeChaucer then stands at a considerable speare? Is there any work, except the disadvantage as compared with Shake- "theatre" of Shakespeare, that attempts, speare, both in respect of the dramatic with a success in any way comparable, appliances of his time and in respect of the astonishing task which Chaucer sets the works representative of his genius. himself? He attempts to portray the enChaucer, as we have seen, found ready tire society of his age from the crown of to hand no literary form such as should its head to the sole of its foot - from the worthily interpret his mind, and was knight, the topmost figure of mediæval many years searching before he found life, down to the ploughman and the one, and, when at last he found it, was cook; and the result is a gallery of lifesomewhat obstructed in the free use of like portraits, which has no parallel anyit by troubles and cares that divorced him where, with one exception, for variety, from his proper task. Moreover the truthfulness, humanity. These are English of his day, though already a roughly drawn rudely featured outlines, copious and versatile tongue, was some- without expression and definiteness, only thing rude and inflexible in comparison recognizable by some impertinent symbol, with the Elizabethan language. In sev- or when we see the name attached, like eral passages it is clear that he is con- some collection of ancient kings or of scious of certain difficulties attendant on" ancestors" where there prevails one the use of such an instrument. A true instinct led him to choose English for his service rather than French, which his less far-seeing contemporary Gower chose at least for his early piece, the "Speculum Meditantis,” and for his “Balades ; but his choice exposed him to various perplexities inseparable from the transitional condition of the object of it. no uniform vacuity of countenance, and, but for the costume or the legend, one cannot distinguish the First of his house from the Last. They are all drawn with an amazing discrimination and delicacy.* "There is nothing of caricature, but yet the individuality is perfect. That the same pencil should have given us the Prioress and the Wife of Bath, the Knight and the Sompnour, the Parson and the Pardoner! These various beings, for beings they are, are as distinct to us now as when he who has made them immortal saw them move out through the gates of the "Tabard,” a motley procession, nearly five hundred years since. So far as merely external matters go, the Society of the Middle Ages is perpetuated with a minuteness not approached elsewhere. We know exactly how it looked to the bodily eye. Chaucer addresses himself deliberately to this exhaustive portrayal:— Fragmentary as his great work is, it is enough to show how consummate was his genius. Not more surely did that famous foot-print on the sands tell the lonely islander of Defoe's story of a human presence than Chaucer's remains assure us that a great poet was amongst us when such pieces were produced. But natheles whiles I have tyme and space, We have said that his genius exhibits a remarkable affinity to that of Shakespeare -a closer affinity, we think, than that of any other English poet. To Chaucer belongs in a high measure what marks Shakespeare supremely· a certain indefinable grace and brightness of style, an incomparable archness and vivacity, an incessant elasticity and freshness, an indescribable ease, a never faltering variety, an incapability of dulness. These men "toil not, neither do they spin," at least so far as one can see. The mountain comes to them; they do not go to it. They wear their art "lightly, like a flow-form of caricature. They never pant or stoop with efforts and strainings. They are kings that never quit their thrones, with a world at their feet. The sceptre is natural in their hands; the purple seems their proper wearing. They never cease to scatter their jewels for fear of poverty; er." Chaucer's sound taste shrunk altogether from every His humor, boisterous enough sometimes, at others wonderfully fine and delicate, is always truthful. His "Tale of Sir Thopas" is one of the best parodies in our language. He tells it with the utmost possible gravity, looking as serious as Defoe or Swift in their driest moments; and, only if you watch well, can you detect a certain mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Some worthy people, indeed, have not detected this twinkle, and have soberly registered Sir Topas amongst the legitimate heroes of chivalrous romance. com Surely a quite unique programme; and it | notony. There is no flexibility of disposiis carried out with profound conscien- tion, no free play of nature. Moreover, tiousness and power. his works exhibit too plainly the travail and effort with which they were posed. One seems to be taken into his workshop, and see him toiling and groaning, and, in the very act of elaboration, shaping now this limb and now that. The greatest master of characterization of that age next to Shakespeare is certainly Massinger. Sir Giles Overreach and Luke are both real men. Luke is a true piece of nature, not all black-souled, nor all white, but of a mixed complexion. But the area which Massinger could make his own was of limited dimensions. When he stepped across its limits, his strength failed him, and he was even as other men. We ask, who among our poets, except Shakespeare, shall be placed above Chaucer in this domain of art? In our opinion there is not one of the Elizabethans that deserves that honour. There is an endless variety of creative power, and the offspring is according. Spenser is, in a way, a great creator; he fills the air around him with a population born of his own teeming fancy but these children of Spenser are not human children, but rather exquisite phantoms, with bodies, if they may be called embodied, of no earthly tissue, mere delicate configurations of cloud and mist. They are very ghosts, each one of whom pales and vanishes if a cock crows, or any mortal sound strikes their fine ears: — Ter frustra comprensa manus effugit imago, He that reads me When I am ashes, is my son in wishes; To pass on in this necessarily rapid survey to a later period. Goldsmith alone amongst our later poets has left us a portrait that deserves to compare with one by Chaucer. It is that ever-charming portrait of the Village Preacher, a not unworthy pendant of the " Parson." He has given us duplicates of it in prose in the persons of the Vicar of Wakefield and of the Man in Black. There is a tradition that he who sat to Chaucer for the Parson was no other than Wiclif. It seems fairly certain that Goldsmith's original was his own father. That was the one figure he could draw with the utmost skill, the deepest feeling. Since Goldsmith there has arisen in our literature no consummate portrait-painter in verse, unless an exception be made in favour of Browning. Scott's creative power did not come to him when he wrote in metre. Shelley's creations are of the Spenserian type fair visions, refined immaterialities, Shapes that haunt Thought's wildernesses. Has Tennyson's Arthur human veins and pulses? He lived and lives somewhat, perhaps, in that earliest of the Arthurian books- the "Morte d'Arthur"- the supposed relic of an Epic; but in the later treatments he has become more and more impalpable and airy. With regard to Chaucer, as to Shakespeare, it has been disputed whether he is greater as a humorous or a pathetic writer. It is a common observation that the gifts of humour and pathos are generally found together, a statement that, perhaps, requires some little qualification. Ben Jonson, Addison, and Fielding, for instance, are humorous without being pathetic; on the other hand, Richardson is pathetic and not humorous. Sterne's |