The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems
entertain or please a lover, in the present case it may
have a similar force.
17. Gramercy: “grand merci,” French; great thanks.
18. The Nine Worthies, who at our day survive in the
Seven Champions of Christendom. The Worthies
were favourite subjects for representation at popular
festivals or in masquerades.
19. The famous Knights of King Arthur, who, being
all esteemed equal in valour and noble qualities, sat at
a round table, so that none should seem to have
precedence over the rest.
20. The twelve peers of Charlemagne (les douze
pairs), chief among whom were Roland and Oliver.
21. Chaucer speaks as if, at least for the purposes of
his poetry, he believed that Edward III. did not
establish a new, but only revived an old, chivalric
institution, when be founded the Order of the Garter.
22. Laurer: laurel-tree; French, “laurier.”
23. The meaning is: “Witness the practice of Rome,
that was the founder of all knighthood and marvellous
deeds; and I refer for corroboration to Titus Livius” —
who, in several passages, has mentioned the laurel
crown as the highest military honour. For instance, in
1. vii. c. 13, Sextus Tullius, remonstrating for the
army against the inaction in which it is kept, tells the
Dictator Sulpicius, “Duce te vincere cupimus; tibi
lauream insignem deferre; tecum triumphantes urbem
inire.” (“Commander, we want you to conquer; to
bring you the laurel insignia; to enter the city with you
in triumph”)
24. Malebouche: Slander, personified under the title
of Evil-mouth — Italian, “Malbocca;” French,
“Malebouche.”
25. Under support of them that list it read: the phrase
means — trusting to the goodwill of my reader.
26. In press: into a crowd, into the press of
competitors for favour; not, it need hardly be said,
“into the press” in the modern sense — printing was
not invented for a century after this was written.
THE HOUSE OF FAME
[Thanks partly to Pope’s brief and elegant paraphrase, in his
“Temple of Fame,” and partly to the familiar force of the style
and the satirical significance of the allegory, “The House of
Fame” is among the best known and relished of Chaucer’s minor
poems. The octosyllabic measure in which it is written — the
same which the author of “Hudibras” used with such admirable
effect — is excellently adapted for the vivid descriptions, the
lively sallies of humour and sarcasm, with which the poem
abounds; and when the poet actually does get to his subject, he
treats it with a zest, and a corresponding interest on the part of
the reader, which are scarcely surpassed by the best of The
Canterbury Tales. The poet, however, tarries long on the way
to the House of Fame; as Pope says in his advertisement, the
reader who would compare his with Chaucer’s poem, “may
begin with [Chaucer’s] third Book of Fame, there being nothing
in the two first books that answers to their title.” The first book
opens with a kind of prologue (actually so marked and called in
earlier editions) in which the author speculates on the causes of
dreams; avers that never any man had such a dream as he had
on the tenth of December; and prays the God of Sleep to help
him to interpret the dream, and the Mover of all things to
reward or afflict those readers who take the dream well or ill.
Then he relates that, having fallen asleep, he fancied himself
within a temple of glass — the abode of Venus — the walls of
which were painted with the story of Aeneas. The paintings are
described at length; and then the poet tells us that, coming out
of the temple, he found himself on a vast sandy plain, and saw
high in heaven an eagle, that began to descend towards him.
With the prologue, the first book numbers 508 lines; of which
192 only — more than are actually concerned with or directly
lead towards the real subject of the poem — are given here. The
second book, containing 582 lines, of which 176 will be found
in this edition, is wholly devoted to the voyage from the Temple
of Venus to the House of Fame, which the dreamer
accomplishes in the eagle’s claws. The bird has been sent by
Jove to do the poet some “solace” in reward of his labours for
the cause of Love; and during the transit through the air the
messenger discourses obligingly and learnedly with his human
burden on the theory of sound, by which all that is spoken must
needs reach the House of Fame; and on other matters suggested
by their errand and their observations by the way. The third
book (of 1080 lines, only a score of which, just at the outset,
have been omitted) brings us to the real pith of the poem. It
finds the poet close to the House of Fame, built on a rock of ice
engraved with names, many of which are half-melted away.
Entering the gorgeous palace, he finds all manner of minstrels
and historians; harpers, pipers, and trumpeters of fame;
magicians, jugglers, sorcerers, and many others. On a throne of
ruby sits the goddess, seeming at one moment of but a cubit’s
stature, at the next touching heaven; and at either hand, on
pillars, stand the great authors who “bear up the name” of
ancient nations. Crowds of people enter the hall from all regions
of earth, praying the goddess to give them good or evil fame,
with and without their own deserts; and they receive answers
favourable, negative, or contrary, according to the caprice of
Fame. Pursuing his researches further, out of the region of
reputation or fame proper into that of tidings or rumours, the
poet is led, by a man who has entered into conversation with
him, to a vast whirling house of twigs, ever open to the arrival
of tidings, ever full of murmurings, whisperings, and clatterings,
coming from the vast crowds that fill it — for every rumour,
every piece of news, every false report, appears there in the
shape of the person who utters it, or passes it on, down in earth.
Out at the windows innumerable, the tidings pass to Fame, who
gives to each report its name and duration; and in the house
travellers, pilgrims, pardoners, couriers, lovers, &c., make a
huge clamour. But here the poet meets with a man “of great
authority,” and, half afraid, awakes; skilfully — whether by
intention, fatigue, or accident — leaving the reader disappointed
by the nonfulfilment of what seemed to be promises of further
disclosures. The poem, not least in the passages the omission of
which has been dictated by the exigencies of the present
volume, is full of testimony to the vast acquaintance of Chaucer
with learning ancient and modern; Ovid, Virgil, Statius, are
equally at his command to illustrate his narrative or to furnish
the ground-work of his descriptions; while architecture, the
Arabic numeration, the theory of sound, and the effects of
gunpowder, are only a few among the topics of his own time of
which the poet treats with the ease of proficient knowledge.
Not least interesting are the vivid touches in which Chaucer
sketches the routine of his laborious and almost recluse daily
life; while the strength, individuality, and humour that mark the
didactic portion of the poem prove that “The House of Fame”
was one of the poet’s riper productions.]
GOD turn us ev’ry dream to good!
For it is wonder thing, by the Rood,* *Cross <1>
To my witte, what causeth swevens,* *dreams
Either on morrows or on evens;
And why th’effect followeth of some,
And of some it shall never come;
Why this is an avision
And this a revelation;
Why this a dream, why that a sweven,
And not to ev’ry man *like even;* *alike*
Why this a phantom, why these oracles,
I n’ot; but whoso of these miracles
The causes knoweth bet than I,
Divine* he; for I certainly *define
*Ne can them not,* nor ever think *do not know them*
To busy my wit for to swink* *labour
To know of their significance
The genders, neither the distance
Of times of them, nor the causes
For why that this more than that cause is;
Or if folke’s complexions
Make them dream of reflections;
Or elles thus, as others sayn,
For too great feebleness of the brain
By abstinence, or by sickness,
By prison, strife, or great distress,
Or elles by disordinance* *derangement
Of natural accustomance;* *mode of life
That some men be too curious
In study, or melancholious,
Or thus, so inly full of dread,
That no man may them *boote bede;* *afford them relief*
Or elles that devotion
Of some, and contemplation,
Causeth to them such dreames oft;
Or that the cruel life unsoft
Of them that unkind loves lead,
That often hope much or dread,
That purely their impressions
Cause them to have visions;
Or if that spirits have the might
To make folk to dream a-night;
Or if the soul, of *proper kind,* *its own nature*
Be so perfect as men find,
That it forewot* what is to come, *foreknows
And that it warneth all and some
Of ev’reach of their adventures,
By visions, or by figures,
But that our fleshe hath no might
To understanden it aright,
For it is warned too darkly;
But why the cause is, not wot I.
Well worth of this thing greate clerks, <2>
That treat of this and other works;
For I of none opinion
Will as now make mention;
But only that the holy Rood
Turn us every dream to good.
For never since that I was born,
Nor no man elles me beforn,
Mette,* as I trowe steadfastly, *dreamed
So wonderful a dream as I,
The tenthe day now of December;
The which, as I can it remember,
I will you tellen ev’ry deal.* *whit
But at my beginning, truste weel,* *well
I will make invocation,
With special devotion,
Unto the god of Sleep anon,
That dwelleth in a cave of stone, <3>
Upon a stream that comes from Lete,
That is a flood of hell unsweet,
Beside a folk men call Cimmerie;
There sleepeth ay this god unmerry,
With his sleepy thousand sones,
That alway for to sleep their won* is; *wont, custom
And to this god, that I *of read,* *tell of*
Pray I, that he will me speed
My sweven for to tell aright,
If ev’ry dream stands in his might.
And he that Mover is of all
That is, and was, and ever shall,
So give them joye that it hear,
Of alle that they dream to-year;* *this year
And for to standen all in grace* *favour
Of their loves, or in what place
That them were liefest* for to stand, *most desired
And shield them from povert’ and shand,* *shame
And from ev’ry unhap and disease,
And send them all that may them please,
That take it well, and scorn it not,
Nor it misdeemen* in their thought, *misjudge
Through malicious intention;
And whoso, through presumption.
Or hate, or scorn, or through envy,
Despite, or jape,* or villainy, *jesting
Misdeem it, pray I Jesus God,
That dream he barefoot, dream he shod,
That ev’ry harm that any man
Hath had since that the world began,
Befall him thereof, ere he sterve,* *die
And grant that he may it deserve,* *earn, obtain
Lo! with such a conclusion
As had of his avision
Croesus, that was the king of Lyde,<4>
That high upon a gibbet died;
This prayer shall he have of me;
I am *no bet in charity.* *no more charitable*
Now hearken, as I have you said,
What that I mette ere I abraid,* *awoke
Of December the tenthe day;
When it was night to sleep I lay,