When Chaucer went to Italy, Dante had already been dead for over fifty years, but Petrarch and Boccaccio, the other members of that great trilogy of the earlier Renaissance, were both alive. Chaucer makes his clerk declare that he learned the tale of Griselda

... at Padowe of a worthy clerk,
······
Fraunceys Petrark, the laureat poete,
Highte this clerk, whos rethoryke sweete
Enlumined al Itaille of poetrye,[16]
(Clerkes Prologue, ll. 31-33.)

but it is impossible to say whether this is autobiographical or not. The two poets may well have met, but in this, as in so many other cases, we cannot be certain. It is improbable that he ever met Boccaccio, since, largely as he borrows from the Filostrato and the Teseide, he never once mentions Boccaccio’s name, and when, in Troilus and Criseyde, he confesses that he is indebted to an earlier poet for his story, he gives him the apparently fictitious name of Lollius. Mr. Coulton suggests that Boccaccio’s works may have been published anonymously and that Chaucer may have been ignorant of their real author, and this could hardly have been the case if the two had met. But whether Chaucer had, or had not, any personal intercourse with Petrarch and Boccaccio, both their work and Dante’s exercised marked influence upon him. More of this will be said in the next chapter; here it is sufficient to note that the Italian mission affected not only his material prosperity but also his literary development.

Meanwhile he continued to grow in favour at court. On St. George’s Day, 1374, he was granted a daily pitcher of wine from the royal cellars—later commuted for a payment in money. In the following May he rented the gate-house of Aldgate from the corporation of London. A month later he was appointed controller of customs for wool, etc., in the port of London, receiving a few days afterwards an additional pension of £10 a year from John of Gaunt and his wife. Office work seems to have weighed heavily on the poet, and there may well be truth in the complaint of the Hous of Fame (Bk. II, l. 644, etc.) that it cut him off from all intercourse with the world:—

... thou hast no tydinges
Of Loves folk, if they be glade,
Ne of noght elles that god made;
And noght only fro fer contree
That ther no tyding comth to thee,
But of thy verray neyghebores,
That dwellen almost at thy dores,
Thou herest neither that ne this;
For whan thy labour doon al is,
And hast y-maad thy rekeninges,
In stede of reste and newe thinges,
Thou gost hoom to thy hous anoon;
And, also domb as any stoon,
Thou sittest at another boke,
Til fully daswed is thy loke,[17]
And livest thus as an hermyte
Although thyn abstinence is lyte.

In November 1375 Chaucer was granted the wardship of Edmund Staplegate of Kent. Few persons nowadays would welcome such a charge, but in the fourteenth century the position of guardian was highly coveted, and not infrequently bought for a good round sum, since the holder had a right to a certain percentage (sometimes amounting to as much as 10%) of the ward’s property, to say nothing of the power of selling him (or her) in marriage. This particular wardship brought in £103.

In 1376-7 Chaucer was again employed on various secret missions abroad. In April 1377 he was sent to France to treat for peace with Charles V, for which service he received £48 13s. 4d. In June of this year Edward III died, but for a time John of Gaunt still retained his power, and soon after the accession of the boy king, Richard II, we find Chaucer sent on an embassy to

Barnabo Viscounte,
God of delyt, and scourge of Lumbardye.
(Monkes Tale, ll. 408-409.)

Amongst those whom he appointed to act for him during his absence, was his friend and fellow-poet, John Gower.

In May 1380 occurred a curious incident, of which no full and satisfactory explanation has yet been found. By a deed dated May 1st, one Cecilia de Chaumpaigne releases Geoffrey Chaucer from a charge which she had brought against him de raptu meo. It has been suggested (Camb. Hist. Lit., Vol. II) that this may refer to one of those attempts to carry off an heir or heiress and marry them forcibly to some relation of the abductor, which were not infrequent at the time. Chaucer’s own father had been the victim of such an attempt, being kidnapped in order that he might be married to Joan de Westhale. The case had come before the courts and the jury found that “the defendants had by night forcibly abducted John le Chaucer from the plaintiff’s custody, but did not marry him,” and assessed the damages at £250. John Chaucer was under fourteen at the time, and there are instances of mere babies of four and five being carried off in the same way. One poor little lady was twice widowed and thrice married before she was nine. Whatever the facts may have been in connection with Cecilia de Chaumpaigne it is evident that Chaucer’s influence at court was sufficient to protect him from any unpleasant consequences.