EN7241 Authorship and Authority : Part 2 - Chaucer After Chaucer: The Death and Birth of an Author

When they were set up, and the whole place was in order, and Theseus had a place to himself... and with a sad face he went away quietly, and after that he said as he wished: 'The first proponent of the cause above, when he first composed love's beautiful work, great was his effect, and lofty was his intention. He knew well why, and what he thought... They are all still the same, but the days pass well. There is no afternoon that can accuse, for it is already proved by experience, but he will declare my punishment.' The Knight's Tale (c.1380-87), 2981-3005

At Chaucer’s death the text of the Canterbury Tales existed as detached fragments, tales and groups of tales, reflecting the different stages of a developing plan. After 1400 these fragments circulated among relatives and friends and on out into a fairly wide reading public. At first no one suspected that a collection would be especially meaningful.... For the first twenty years after Chaucer's death we have a total of six collections. For the second twenty years we have certainly only four more collections. Between 1430 and 1450 the number increases, especially in the last ten.

Charles A. Owen, Jr., ‘Pre-1450 Manuscripts of the Canterbury Tales: Relationships and Significance. Part I’, Chaucer Review 23.1 (1988): 1-29 (pp.2-3).

Mi derë maistir – god his soulë quyte! – 
And fadir, Chaucer, fayn wolde han me taght; 
But I was dul, and lernèd lite or naght

Thomas Hoccleve, Regiment of Princes (c.1414), ed. by Charles R. Blyth (Kalamazoo, MI: Medieval Institute Publications, 1999).

This Geffrey chaucer being borne (as is thought) in Oxfordshyre, and dwelling in Woodstocke, lyeth buryed in the Church of the minister of S. Peter at Westminster, in an Ile on the southside of the sayd Church, not far from the dore  leading to the Cloister, and vpon his graue stone first were written these two old verses

Galfridus chaucer vates & fama poesis
Maternæ, hac sacra sum tumulatus humo.

[I, Galfridus Chauser, bard and honour of the poetry of my Mother Country, am buried here in this sacred mound]
Afterward about the yeare of our Lord. 1556. one M. Brickham bestowing more cost vpon his tombe, did adde thereunto these verses following.
Qui fuit Anglorum vates ter maximus olim,
Galfridus chaucer conditur hoc tumulo.
Annum si quæras Domini, si tempora mortis,

Ecee nota subsunt, quæ tibi cuncta notent. 25. Octob. Anno. 1400.

[He who was once the threefold greatest bard of the English, Galfridus Chaucer, is enclosed in this mound. If you wish to know which year of our lord, at which time, he died, behold the letters that are beneath, which disclose everything to you. 25 October 1400.] 
John Foxe, Actes and Monuments (London: John Day, 1583), p.864.

John Lydgate, Prologus of the Siege of Thebes (c.1422), ed. by Robert R. Edwards (Kalamazoo, MI: Medieval Institute Publications, 2001):

Whan brighte Phebus passed was the Ram
Myd of Aprille and into Bole cam,
And Satourn old with his frosty face
In Virgyne taken had his place...
The tyme in soth whan Canterbury talys
Complet and told at many sondry stage
Of estatis in the pilgrimage,
Everich man lik to his degré,
Some of desport, some of moralité,
Some of knyghthode, love, and gentillesse,
And some also of parfit holynesse,
And some also in soth of ribaudye
To make laughter in the companye...
Word for word with every circumstaunce,
Echon ywrite and put in remembraunce
By hym that was, yif I shal not feyne,

Floure of poetes thorghout al Breteyne. (1-40)

First the pylgrimes sothly everichon,
At the Tabbard assembled on be on...
Tellynge a tale as I reherce can,
Lich as the hoste assigned every man,
None so hardy his biddyng disobeye.
And this whil that the pilgrymes leye
At Canterbury wel logged on and all,
I not in soth what I may it call –
Hap or fortune in conclusioun –
That me byfil to entren into toun
The holy seynt pleynly to visite
After siknesse, my vowes to aquyte,
In a cope of blak and not of grene,
On a palfrey slender, long, and lene...
Which of fortune took myn inne anon
Wher the pylgrymes were logged everichon,
The same tyme her governour, the Host...
Which spak to me and seide anon, ‘Daun Pers...
First youre name and of what contré
Withoute mor shortely that ye be’...
I answerde my name was Lydgate,

Monk of Bery, nygh fyfty yere of age.  (59-93)

And whan we weren from Canterbury paste
Noght the space of a bowe draught,
Our hoost in hast hath my bridel rauht
And to me seide as it were in game,
‘Come forth, daun John, be your Cristene name,
And lat us make some manere myrth or play.’    (156-61)

[Lydgate then regales the ‘company’ with a 4716-line retelling of the ‘destruccion of Thebes’, some 300 lines longer than the entire first fragment of the Canterbury Tales]

O, maister deere, and fadir reuerent! 
Mi maister Chaucer, flour of eloquence, 
Mirour of fructuous entendëment, 
O, vniuersel fadir in science!...
Allas! my worthi maister honorable, 
This landës verray tresor and richesse, 
Deth, by thi deth, hath harme irreparable 
Vnto vs doon; hir vengeable duresse 
Despoilèd hath þis land of þe swetnesse 
Of rethorik; for vn-to Tullius 

Was neuer man so lyk a-mongës vs.(1961-64, 2080-86) Thomas Hoccleve, Regiment of Princes (c.1414)

And eke my master chauceris now is ygraue 
The noble rethor poete of brytayne 
That worthy was the lawrel to haue 
Of poetrye and the palme attayne 
That made first to dystylle and rayne 
The gold dewe dropys of speche & eloquence 
In to our tunge thrugh his excellence.            

John Lydgate, Lyf of Our Lady (c.1409-11), ed. by Joseph A. Lauretis (Pittsburgh: Duquesne University, 1961), p.425.

Master Geffray Chauser, that now lyth in grave, 
The nobyll rethoricien, and poet of Gret Bretayne, 
That worthy was the lawrer of poetry have 
For thys hys labour, and the palme attayne; 
Whych furst made to dystyll and reyne 
The gold dew-dropys of speche and eloquence 
In-to Englyssh tong, thorow hys excellence.

‘Balade in Praise of Chaucer’ (c.1425), in Complete Works of Geoffrey Chaucer, ed. by W.W. Skeat, 7 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon, 1894-97): 7:450.

O fader and founder of ornate eloquence 
That enlumened hast alle our bretayne 
To soone we loste / thy laureate scyence 
O lusty lyquour / of that fulsom fontayne 
O cursid deth / why hast thou yt poete slayne 
I mene fader chaucer / maister galfryde 
Alas the whyle / that euer he from vs dyde

William Caxton, Boke of Curtesye (1477), ed. by Frederick J. Furnivall (London: N. Trübner, 1868), p.35

Chaucer is deed the whiche this pamphlete wrate 
So ben his heyres in all suche besynesse 
And gone is also the famous clerke Lydgate 
And so is yonge Hawes/god theyr soules adresse 
Many were the volumes y e they made more & lesse...
But yet for your myndes this boke I wyll impresse 
That is in tytule the parlyament of foules 

Robert Copland, ‘To New Fanglers’ (1530), in Poems, ed. by Mary C. Erler (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1993), p.100.
There was suyng to the Quene of Fame; 

He plucked hym backe, and he went afore; 
Nay, holde thy tunge, quod another, let me haue the name; 
Make rowme, sayd another, ye prese all to sore; 
Sume sayd, Holde thy peas, thou getest here no more; 
A thowsande thowsande I sawe on a plumpe: 
With that I harde the noyse of a trumpe...

Plutarke and Petrarke, two famous clarkis; 
Lucilius and Valerius Maximus by name; 
With Vincencius in Speculo , that wrote noble warkis; 
Propercius and Pisandros, poetis of noble fame; 
But blissed Bachus, that mastris oft doth frame, 
Of clusters engrosed with his ruddy flotis 
Theis notable poetis refresshid there throtis. 

And as I thus sadly amonge them auysid, 
I saw Gower, that first garnisshed our Englysshe rude, 
And maister Chaucer, that nobly enterprysyd 
How that our Englysshe myght fresshely be ennewed; 
The monke of Bury then after them ensuyd, 
Dane Johnn Lydgate: theis Englysshe poetis thre, 
As I ymagenyd, repayrid vnto me, 

Togeder in armes, as brethern, enbrasid; 
There apparell farre passynge beyonde that I can tell; 
With diamauntis and rubis there tabers were trasid, 
None so ryche stones in Turkey to sell; 
Thei wantid nothynge but the laurell; 
And of there bounte they made me godely chere, 
In maner and forme as ye shall after here

John Skelton, Tratyse upon a Goodly Garlande or Chapelet Of Laurell (1523), in Poems, ed. by Richard Hughes (London: W. Heinemann, 1924), pp.163-64.

It remains that I say somewhat of Chaucer in particular. In the first place, as he is the Father of English Poetry, so I hold him in the same Degree of Veneration as the Grecians held Homer, or the Romans Virgil: He is a perpetual Fountain of good Sense; learn’d in all Sciences; and, therefore speaks properly on all Subjects: As he knew what to say, so he knows also when to leave off; a Continence which is practis’d by few Writers, and scarcely by any of the Ancients, excepting Virgil and Horace. One of our late great Poets is sunk in his Reputation, because he cou’d never forgive any Conceit which came in his way; but swept like a Dragnet, great and small.... All this proceeded not from any want of Knowledge, but of Judgment; neither did he want that in discerning the Beauties and Faults of other Poets; but only indulg’d himself in the Luxury of Writing.... For this Reason. though he must always be thought a great Poet, he is no longer esteemed a good Writer.... It were an easy Matter to produce some thousands of his Verses, which are lame for want of half a Foot, and sometimes a whole one, and which no Pronunciation can make otherwise. We can only say, that he lived in the Infancy of our Poetry, and that nothing is brought to Perfection at the first. We must be Children before we grow Men.

John Dryden, Preface to The Fables (1700), in Poetical Works, ed. by George R. Noyes (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1950), p.744. 

The firste fyndere of our fair langage
Hath seid, in cas semblable, and othir mo,
So hyly wel that it is my dotage
For to expresse or touche any of tho.
Allas, my fadir fro the world is go,
My worthy maistir Chaucer - him I meene;
Be thow advocat for him, hevenes queene.

As thow wel knowist, o blessid Virgyne,
With lovyng herte and hy devocioun,
In thyn honour he wroot ful many a lyne.
O now thyn help and thy promocioun!
To God thy sone make a mocioun,
How he thy servant was, mayden Marie,
And lat his love floure and fructifie.

Althogh his lyf be qweynt, the resemblance
Of him hath in me so fressh lyflynesse
That to putte othir men in remembrance
Of his persone, I have heere his liknesse
Do make, to this ende, in soothfastnesse,
That they that han of him lost thoght and mynde
By this peynture may ageyn him fynde.

The ymages that in the chirches been
Maken folk thynke on God and on his seintes
Whan the ymages they beholde and seen,
Where ofte unsighte of hem causith restreyntes
Of thoghtes goode. Whan a thyng depeynt is
Or entaillid, if men take of it heede,
Thoght of the liknesse it wole in hem breede.

Yit sum men holde oppinioun and seye
That noon ymages sholde ymakid be.
They erren foule and goon out of the weye;
Of trouthe have they scant sensibilitee.
Passe over that! Now, blessid Trinitee,
Upon my maistres soule mercy have;

For him, Lady, thy mercy eek I crave.    (4978-5012)

British Library, Harley MS 4866, fol. 92

Jack Uplond (John Gough, c.1540) and The Plowman’s Tale (William Hill, c.1548

Frontispiece of Thomas Speght’s Workes of our Antient and learned English Poet (1598)

Chaucer’s monument, 1565: Poet’s Corner, Westminster Abbey

The Prologue of the Tale of Beryn [or Canterbury Interlude], in The Canterbury Tales: Fifteenth-Century Continuations and Additions, ed. by John Bowers (Kalamazoo, MI: Medieval Institute Publications, 1992). 

When all this fressh feleship were com to Caunterbury,
As ye have herd tofore, with tales glad and mery,
Som of sotill centence, of vertu and of lore,
And som of other myrthes for hem that hold no store
Of wisdom, ne of holynes, ne of chivalry,
Nether of vertuouse matere, but to foly
Leyd wit and lustes all, to such japes
As Hurlewaynes meyné in every hegg that capes.                (1-8)

She snyffeth, sigheth, and shooke hire hede, and made rouful chere.
‘Benedicite!’ quod the Pardonere, and toke hir by the swere.
‘Ye make sorowe inowgh’, quod he, ‘yeur lyff thoughe ye shuld lese’.
‘It is no wonder’, quod she than, and therewith she gan to fnese.
‘Aha! Al hole!’ quod the Pardoner. ‘Yeur penaunce is somwhat passed’. 
‘God forbede it els’, quod she; ‘but it were somwhat lassed,
I myght nat lyve els, thowe wotest, and it shuld long endure’.
‘Now blessed be God of mendement, of hele and eke of cure’,
Quod the Pardoner tho anoon and toke hir by the chynne,
And seyd to hir these wordes tho: ‘Allas, that love ys syn!
So kynde a lover as ye be oon, and so trew of hert,
For by my trewe conscience, yit for yewe I smert’.                (39-50)

The Pardoner and the Miller and other lewde sotes
Sought hemselff in the chirch, right as lewd gotes,
Pyred fast and poured highe oppon the glase,
Counterfeting gentilmen, the armes for to blase,
Diskyveryng fast the peyntour, and for the story mourned
And ared also – right as rammes horned!
‘He bereth a balstaff’, quod the toon, ‘and els a rakes ende’.
‘Thow faillest’, quod the Miller, ‘thowe hast nat wel thy mynde.
It is a spere, yf thowe canst se, with a prik tofore
To bussh adown his enmy and thurh the sholder bore’.
‘Pese!’ quod the Hoost of Southwork. ‘Let stond the wyndow glased.
Goth up and doth yeur offerynge. Ye semeth half amased’.            (147-58)
The Clerk that was of Oxenforth onto the Sompnore seyd,
‘Me semeth of grete clerge that thow art a mayde,
For thow puttest on the Frere in maner of repreff
That he knoweth falshede, vice, and eke a theff.
And I it hold vertuouse and right commendabill,
To have verry knowlech of thinges reprovabill’...
‘Lo, what is worthy," seyd the Knyght, "for to be a clerk!
To sommon among us hem, this mocioune was ful derk’.            (251-64)

The Monke toke the Person then and the Grey Frere,
And preyd hem ful curteysly for to go in fere:
‘I have there a queyntaunce that al this yeres thre
Hath preyd me by his lettres that I hym wold se,
And ye, my brother in habit and in possessioune’...
They went forth togider, talking of holy matere,
But woot ye wele in certeyn, they had no mynd on water.            (267-76)

The Wyff of Bath was so wery, she had no will to walk.
She toke the Priores by the hond: ‘Madam, wol ye stalk
Pryvely into the garden to se the herbes growe,
And after with our hostes wyff in hir parlour rowe?
I woll gyve yewe the wyne, and ye shull me also,
For tyll we go to soper, we have naught elles to do’.
The Priores, as womman taught of gentil blood and hend,
Assented to hir counsell, and forth gon they wend.                (281-88)

But who is that a womman coud nat make his berd
And she were thereabout and set hir wit thereto?
Ye woot wele I ly nat, and where I do or no,
I woll nat here termyn it, lest ladies stond in plase,
Or els gentil women, for lesing of my grace
Of daliaunce and of sportes and of goodly chere.
Therefor, anenst hir estates I woll in no manere
Deme ne determyn, but of lewd Kittes
As tapsters and other such that hath wyly wittes
To pik mennes purses and eke to bler hir eye;
So wele they make seme soth when they falssest ly.                (436-46)

‘Aha-ha!’ thought the Pardoner; ‘beth there pannes aryn?’ 
And droughe oppon that side and thought oppon a gynne.
So atte last he fond oon and set it on his hede,
For as the case was fall, thereto he had grete nede.
But yit he grasped ferthermore to have somwhat in honde,
And fond a grete ladill right as he was gonde.                (569-74)

Was noon of al the feleshipp half so sone i-dighte
As was the gentil Pardoner, for al tyme of the nyghte...
Yet or he cam in company, he wissh awey the blood,
And bond the sores to his hede with the typet of his hood,
And made lightsom chere for men shuld nat spy
Nothing of his turment ne of his luxury.                    (657-64)