Chaucer.
In the last year of the fourteenth century there were still living two men whose voices have made the century live for us. One of them—Chaucer—remains to-day the father of English poetry, the forerunner of Shakespeare; the other—Gower—less known to most of us, was the author of three long poems—‘Speculum Meditantis,’ in French; ‘Vox Clamantis,’ in Latin; ‘Confessio Amantis,’ in English. Boccaccio had written his ‘Decameron,’ and it was this method of writing a series of poems or stories by means of connecting-links of narrative that should run through the series, that inspired the form of the ‘Confessio Amantis’ and the ‘Canterbury Tales’; indeed, many stories in both of these works are retold out of the ‘Decameron.’
Gower wrote of his age as a man giving advice, philosophically; he did not attempt character studies, but framed his poems as narratives with morals fit for application to his times.
Chaucer drew his characters clearly—so clearly that they have become as living as have Uncle Toby or Mrs. Gamp—symbolic people, embracing a type of national character.
A third writer—Langland—pictured his age from the poor man’s point of view, and the three writers, together with the artist of the Loutrell Psalter, bring the age most vividly to our eyes.
Of course, in these days of hasty work, it seems hardly feasible to suggest that artists who would illustrate these times should read the works of these three men, and go to the British Museum to look at the Psalter; but any writer must do this, and can do this, considering that the works of the poets are cheap to obtain and the British Museum is free to all.
Anyone wishing to picture these times will find that Chaucer has written very carefully of the costume of his Pilgrims. They will find the pith of the costume in this book of mine; but since no book is complete in every sense, they should see for themselves how men of the day drew the costume they saw about them. It will give them a sense of the spirit of the age which so many modern drawings lack.
I give you Gower’s picture of an exquisite; no words of mine could show so well the manner of the man:
‘And therof thenketh he but a lite,
For all his lust is to delite
In newé thingés, proude and veine,
Als ferforth as he may atteine.
I trowe, if that he mighté make
His body newe, he woldé take
A newé form and leve his olde.
For what thing that he may behold
The which to common use is straunge,
Anone his oldé guisé chaunge
He woll, and fallé therupon
Lich unto the camelion,
Whiche upon every sondry hewe
That he beholt he moté newe
His coloun; and thus unavised
Full ofté time he stand desguised.
More jolif than the brid in Maie,
He maketh him ever fressh and gaie
And doth all his array desguise,
So that of him the newé guise
Of lusty folke all other take.’
Now, if I have described the costume of these times clearly—and I think I have done so—these lines should conjure up a gay fellow, with his many changes of dress. If the vision fails, then allow me to say that you are at fault, and have taken no pains with the description. Because the coloured drawing to the chapter of Richard II. shows a long houppelande and a chaperon tied in a certain way, you will very possibly forget that this dandy would have also a short houppelande, differently jagged sleeves, more ruffle about the twisting of his chaperon, more curve to the points of his shoes.