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gate  of  oMiawtens 
and  (Bthq 


?/, 

J» 


GEOKGE  LYMAN  KITTKEDGE,  LL.D.,  LITT.D. 

PROFKSSOR  OF  ENGLISH  IN  HARVARD   UNIVERSITY 


LONDON: 

PUBLISHED    FOR  THE   CHAUCER   SOCIETY 

BY  KEGAN   PAUL,  TRENCH,  TRUBNER  &  CO.,  LTD., 

DRYDEN    HOUSE,    43    GERRARD    STREET,    SOHO,    W. 

AND  BY  HENRY  FROWDE,  OXFORD  UNIVERSITY  PRESS, 

AMEN    CORNER,   E.G.,    AND    IN    NEW   YORK. 
1909,  for  the  Issue  of  1905 


&ttaritji  Series,  42. 

RICHAED   OLAY   &   SONS,   LIMITED,    LONDON  AND   BUNG.' 


PREFACE. 

THE  essay  here  submitted  to  students  of  Chaucer  takes  the  form 
of  an  argument  in  contravention  of  the  theory  of  Professor  Tatlock 
as  to  the  date  of  Chaucer's  Troilus.  In  publishing  it,  I  wish  to 
record,  at  the  same  time,  my  appreciation  of  the  learning  and  the 
acuteness  which  Mr.  Tatlock  shows  throughout  his  volume  on  The 
Development  and  Chronology  of  Chaucer's  Works,  and  of  the 
substantial  value  which  I  attach  to  his  results  in  general. 

Since  the  greater  part  of  my  essay  was  finished,  Professor  Lowes 
has  called  attention  (in  the  twenty-third  volume  of  the  Publications 
of  the  Modern  Language  Association  of  America)  to  the  bearing 
which  Chaucer's  use  of  the  letter  A  in  the  Troilus  has  upon  this 
question  of  dates.1  Mr.  Lowes  had  the  kindness  to  show  me  his 
manuscript  before  I  began  to  write.  However,  though  I  regard  his 
argument  as  practically  conclusive,  it  has  seemed  best  to  examine 
the  case  without  utilizing  the  passage  in  question.  The  logical 
place  for  a  repetition  of  Mr.  Lowes's  new  evidence,  and  of  his 
treatment  of  it,  would  be  at  the  end  of  the  present  paper. 

The  scope  of  this  essay  does  not  include  an  attempt  to  determine 
the  absolute  date  of  the  Troilus  or  to  settle  the  question  whether 
the  Troilus  or  the  Palamon  was  written  first.  Several  other 
matters,  however,  have  been  discussed  as  incidental  to  the 
argument, — among  them  the  date  of  the  House  of  Fame  and  of 
the  Monk's  Tale. 

In  references  to  Benoit's  Roman  de  Troiet  the  verses  have  been 
cited  according  to  Joly's  numbering,  but  the  readings  of  Constans 
have  been  adopted  as  far  as  his  edition  goes.  Joly's  numbers  are 
in  the  right-hand  margin  of  the  Constans  text. 

Cambridge,  Massachusetts, 
November  2±th,  1908. 

1  'Right  as  our  firste  lettre  is  now  an  A.' — Troilus,  i.  171.  Chaucer's 
Works,  ed.  Skeat,  ii.  158.  The  'A'  is  Anne  of  Bohemia,  about  whose  winning 
by  Richard  II.  Chaucer  had  written  in  the  Parlement  of  Fowles,  and  who  was 
crownd  Queen  of  England  on  14  Jan.  1382. — F. 


CONTENTS. 


PACK 


THE  DATE  OP  CHAUCER'S  TROILUS 1 

APPENDICES  : — 

I.  SUMMARY  OF  BENOIT'S  ROMAN  DS  TROIE,  w.  12931- 
21744  (BEING  THAT  PORTION  OF  THE  POEM  WHICH 

INCLUDES  THE  STORY  OF  TROILUS  AND  BR1SEIDA)     .  62 

II.  THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  TROILUS  STORY  IN  BENOIT         .  66 

III.  ARMANNINO 72 

IV.  GOWER'S  BALADES 75 

V.  ALICE  PERRERS  AND  GOWER'S  MIROUR  DB  L'OMME       .  79 

VI.  THE  DATE  OF  THE  MIROUR  DS  L'OMME        ...  80 


gate  of  (Utaprs 
and  fliltq  Ojtoqi] 


IN  the  Mirour  de  TOmme,  Gower,  in  treating  of  Sompnolence, 
the  eldest  daughter  of  Accidie,  says  that  the  Sleepy  Man  (ly 
Sompnolent),  when  he  has  to  go  to  church  on  the  morning  of  a  high 
feast-day,  does  not  say  his  prayers,  but  lays  his  head  down  on  the 
stool  (escliamelle]  and  takes  a  nap.  He  dreams  that  he  is  drinking 
wine,  or  else  that  he  hears  somebody  "  sing  the  tale  of  Troylus 
and  the  fair  Creseide,"  and  that  is  how  he  offers  his  petition 
to  God! 

Au  Sompnolent  trop  fait  moleste,  Et  dort,  et  songe  en  sa  cervelle 

Quant  matin  doit  en  haulte  feste  Qu'il  est  an  bout  de  la  tonelle, 

Ou  a  mouster  ou  a  chapelle  U  qu'il  oit  chanter  la  geste 

Venir  ;  mais  ja  du  riens  s'apreste  De  Troylus  et  de  la  belle 

A  dieu  prier,  ainz  bass  la  teste  Creseide,  et  ensi  se  concelle 

Mettra  tout  suef  sur  1'eschamelle,  A  dieu  d'y  faire  sa  requested 

This  passage  is  thought  to  have  been  written  in  1377.2  Pro- 
fessor Tatlock,  who  first  utilized  it  as  a  criterion  for  chronology,3 

1  Vv.  5245-56. 

2  In  an  article  in  Modern  Philology,  I,  324  (1903),  Mr.  Tatlock  holds  that 
the  passage  in  the  Mirour  "can  hardly  have  been  written  later  than  1376." 
In  his   important   treatise    The   Development  and   Chronology  of  Chaucer's 

Works  (Chaucer  Society,  1907,  p.  15  ;  cf.  pp.  26,  32,  33,  225),  he  shifts  the 
date  to  "about  1377."  We  may  accept  1377,  provisionally,  as  a  basis  for 
investigation,  though  we  shall  have  to  test  its  accuracy  by-and-by  (see 
Appendix  VI,  below). 

3  Mr.  Macaulay  called  attention  to  the  passage  in  his  edition  of  Gower, 
1899  (I,  xiii),  but  took  it  for  granted  that  Chaucer's  Troilus  is  later  than  the 
Mirour.     Dr.  G.  L.  Hamilton,  in  1903,  assumed  (without  argument)  that 
Gower  was  referring  to  the  Troilus  ( The  Indebtedness  of  Chaucer's  Troilus  and 
Criseyde  to  Guido  delle  Colonne's  Historia  Trojana,  p.  136).     Later  in  1903, 
Professor  Tatlock  utilized  the  passage  as  evidence  for  the  date  of  Chaucer's 
poem  (Modern  Philology,  I,  317  ff.  ;  cf.   Lowes,  Publications  of  the  Modern 
Language  Association  of  America,  XX,  824,  note  1  ;  Tatlock,  The  Development 
and  Chronology  of  Chaucer's  Works,  p.  26,  note  1).     Mr.  Tatlock's  argument 
is  elaborated  and  supplemented,  with  much  learning  and  great  acuteness  and 

•controversial  skill,  in  The  Development  and  Chronology  of  Chaucer's  Works 
DATE    OF    C.    T.  B 


A  TROILUS    IN    GOWER. 

holds  that  Gower  is  referring  to  Chaucer's  Troilus,  and  that  there- 
fore the  Troilus  must  already  have  achieved  popularity.  Since 
most  scholars  are  disposed  to  put  the  Troilus  several  years  later,  the 
soundness  of  Mr.  Tatlock's  reasoning  is  a  matter  of  considerable 
interest.  J  The  whole  argument  turns  on  a  question  of  names : — 
Benoit  de  Sainte  Maure  and  Guido  delle  Colonne,  as  is  well  known, 
call  Troilus'  ladylove  Briseida,  and  Boccaccio  calls  her  Griseida ;  1 
Chaucer  changed  Griseida  into  Criseyde  (or  Criseyda).2  We  are 
forced  to  infer,  according  to  Mr.  Tatlock,  that  it  is  Chaucer's 
Troilus  to  which  Gower  refers  in  the  passage  quoted.  But,  before 
the  case  can  be  regarded  as  closed,  a  number  of  facts,  some  of 
which  have  not  been  brought  into  the  discussion  hitherto,  need  to 
be  considered.  Many  of  these  are  familiar,  and  none  of  them  are 
recondite.  Their  bearing  will  be  clear  enough  as  we  proceed. 

The  question  is:  What  does  Gower  mean  by  "la  geste  de 
Troylus  et  de  la  belle  Creseide"?  Is  he  alluding  to  Chaucer's 
Troilus? 

The  word  geste  does  not  help  us  at  all.     It  conveys  no  more 

(Chaucer  Society,  1907),  pp.  15  ff.,  by  way  of  rejoinder  to  Professor  Lowes 
(Publications,  as  above,  XX,  819  ff.).  I  must  refer  the  reader  to  this  treatise 
(cited  as  "Tatlock")  very  particularly,  in  order  that  Mr.  Tatlock's  position 
may  be  understood,  and  that  it  may  not  suffer — however  slightly — from  my 
way  of  stating  the  case.  It  should  be  especially  noted  that  Mr.  Tatlock  does 
not  regard  his  contention  as  resting  altogether  on  Gower's  use  of  the  name 
Creseide  instead  of  Briseida.  I  have  not  intentionally  neglected  any  of  his 
subsidiary  arguments,  although,  in  my  opinion,  the  question  really  hinges  on 
a  single  letter  (cf.  Lowes,  p.  826). 

1  Mr.  E.  H.  Wilkins,  in  an  article  published  after  the  present  essay  was 
in  the  hands  of  the  printer,  makes  it  probable  that  Boccaccio's  form  was 
rather   Criseida  than   Griseida    (Modern  Language   Notes,    XXIV,   65-66 ; 
reprinted  in  Boccaccio  Studies,  Baltimore,  1909,  pp.  50  ff.).     The  acceptance 
of  this  view  would  somewhat  simplify  my  argument  in  several  places. 

2  Criseyde  rhymes  with  the  preterites  deyde  (i,  56,  460,  875 ;   iii,  1171  ;. 
iv,   151,  668;   v,   1834);  pleyde    (i,    1006;    v,    1112);    seyde   or   withseyde 
(i,  457,  1005  ;  ii,  879,  1233,  1415  ;  iii,   1052,   1174,  1421,  1471  ;   iv,   152, 
179,  215,  345,  377,  827,  874,  960,  1148,  1253,  1653  ;  v,  217,  506,  509,  522, 
689,  734,  870,  932,   945,   1033,   1121,  1146,  1244,  1265,  1424,  1440,  1676, 
1713,  1730)  ;  leyde  (ii,  1548  ;  iii,  1055-;  iv,  135,  180,  1163  ;   v,  873,  1034, 
1145,    1439);   preyde    (i,    1006;    ii,    1602;    iv,     137,     196,    214,    1438); 
breyde  or  abreyde  (iv,   1212 ;    v,   1243) ;    with    the  first  person   present   or 
preterite   breyde   (v,  1262)  ;    with  the   infinitive   breyde,   abreyde,   upbreyde 
(iii,   1113  ;   iv,  230,  348  ;  v,   520,  1710) ;  with  the   noun   mayde   (ii,   880). 
See  Skeat's  Rime  Index,  p.  13*,  and  cf.  my  Observations  on  the  Language  of 
Chaucer's  Troiluv,  pp.  34,  247-8,  251,  258,  271-2.     The  full  form  Criseyde  is 
common  in  the  interior  of  ihe  verse  (i,  99,  392  ;  ii,  386,  1100,  etc.,  etc.). 
Elision  of  the  final  e  occurs  before  a  vowel  (i,  273  ;  ii,  598.  1562,  etc.),  before 
his  (iii,  95),  hath  (v,  1247),  and  hadde  (iv,  825).     Criseyde  (with  apocope) 
occurs  before  the  caesura,  that  following  (ii,  689).     Criseyda  (three  syllables) 
is  found  once  (i,  169).     Criseyda  (four  syllables)  occurs  twice  (ii,  1426,  1646). 
Some  manuscripts  show  Creseyde,  Cresseyde,  Cresseide,  and  other  variants. 


TROILUS    IN    GOWEa.  3 

definite  meaning  in  Gower's  French  than  " story"  would  convey 
in  modern  English.  Earlier  in  the  Mirour,  at  the  wedding  feast 
of  the  Seven  Daughters  of  Sin,  we  are  told  that  Temptation  made 
himself  very  agreeable  as  a  raconteur: — 

Car  mainte  delitable  geste 

Leur  dist,  dont  il  les  cuers  entice 

Des  jofnes  dames  au  delice 

Sanz  cry,  sanz  noise,  et  sanz  tempeste.1 

The  word  geste  in  Gower's  Troilus  passage  is,  to  be  sure,  quite 
compatible  with  Mr.  Tatlock's  theory,  for  Chaucer's  poem  is 
undoubtedly  a  story.  But  "  the  story  of  Troilus  and  Creseide " 
has  another  sense,  equally  applicable.  "The  tale  of  Troy" 
is  not  necessarily  the  Iliad,  or  the  fiction  of  Dictys  Cretensis, 
or  the  Historia  Trojana  of  Guido,  or  Benoit's  Roman  de 
Troie,  or  any  other  actual  text:  it  may  be,  and  commonly  is, 
merely  "  what  is  said  to  have  happened  at  Troy,"  the  res  gestae 
of  the  war,  often  recorded,  to  which  each  fresh  narrator  gives 
concrete  expression  as  he  tells  them.  With  this  sense  of  geste  in 
mind,  one  cannot  deny  that  Gower's  language  is  consistent  with 
the  view  that — grant  the  story  of  Troilus  and  Cressida  already 
existed  in  any  form — what  the  Sleepy  Man  heard  in  his  dream 
was  simply  a  chanson  (in  French  or  English)  dealing  with  that 
material,  a  song  that  can  no  more  be  identified  with  any  particular 
poem  that  ever  existed  than  ly  Sompnolent  himself  can  be  identified 
with  any  particular  subject  of  the  English  crown,  or  the  eschamelle 
with  any  particular  stool  in  an  English  church.  The  term  geste, 
then,  does  not  advance  us  a  particle  toward  an  answer  to  our 
question,  "Was  Gower  alluding  to  Chaucer's  poem?"2  Let  us  see 
if  the  form  Creseide  will  prove  more  serviceable. 

Before  attacking  the  problems  involved  in  this  name  and  in 
Gower's  employment  of  it  in  1377,  we  must  attend  to  a  preliminary 
matter.  We  must  ask  ourselves  whether  the  substance  of  the 
Troilus  story  was  known  to  Gower — independently  of  Chaucer's 
poem — when  he  wrote  the  passage  under  review  ;  and  furthermore, 
whether  he  may  well  have  had  the  story  in  mind — still  inde- 
pendently of  Chaucer — at  the  moment  of  composition. 

1  Vv.  981-4. 

2  This  paragraph,  which  may  seem  a  work   of  supererogation,  is   made 
necessary  by  what  appear  to   be  Mr.  Tatlock's  views  with  respect  to  the 
significance  of  the  word  geste  in  the  Mirour  passage.     For  the  whole  matter 
see  Lowes,  Publications  of  the  Modern  Language  Association  of  America, 
XXIII,  300-1. 


4  BENOIT    IN    GOWEIi's    MIEOUR. 

Here  we  get  a  foothold  of  solid  fact.  When  Gower  wrote  the 
Troilus  passage  he  was  already  thoroughly  familiar  with  Benoit's 
Roman  de  Troie,  This  is  proved  by  three  other  passages  in  the 
Mirour,—(I)  vv.''  3724-40,  (2)  vv.  5515-20,  and  (3)  vv.  16700-2. 

In  the  first  of  these  three  passages,  in  characterizing  Envie, 
Gower  writes, — 

C'est  ly  serpens  toutdis  veillant,  Jason  de  sa  prouesce  fine 

Q'en  1'ille  Colcos  t'uist  gardant  Portoit  grant  pris  en  conquestant 

Le  toison  d'orr,  dont  par  covine,  Malgre  la  genie  serpentine. 
Q'en  fist  Medea  la  ineschine, 

That  this  brief  summary  of  the  tale  of  the  Golden  Fleece  is  based 
either  on  Benoit  or  on  Guido  appears  from  Gower's  calling  "Colcos  " 
an  island.1 

In  the  second  passage  (vv.  5515-20)  Gower,  describing  the 
panic  fear  of  a  coward,  asserts  that  he  suffers  from  "  a  palsy 
which  he  who  cured  Hector  of  Troy  will  never  cure  "  : — 

Car  combien  q'il  fort  corps  avra,  Ove  tout  1'entraille  tremblera  : 

Le  cuer  dedeinz  malade  esta,  Tieu  parlesie  ne  guarra 

Du  quoy  le  pulmon  et  la  foie  Gil  qui  gtiarist  Ector  de  Troie. 

1  "En  1'isle  de  Colcos  en  mer  "  (Benoit,  v.  753)  ;  "  In  quadam insula  dicta 
Colcos"  (Guido,  bk.  i,  ch.  1,  ed.  1489,  sig.  a  2  recto,  col.  1  ;  cf.  sig.  a  2 
verso,  col.  2).  This  point  is  not  conclusive  in  itself,  for  the  error  was  doubtless 
widespread  (partly  under  the  influence  ofDelos,  Samos,  and  other  island  names ; 
cf.  Delphosfor  Delphi}.  Boccaccio,  Amoroso,  Visione,  cap.  25,  writes  "All'  isola 
de'  Colchi"  (Opere  Volgari,  1833,  XIV,  99).  Still,  taken  in  connection  with 
the  Jason  story  in  the  Confessio  Amantis  (v,  3247  ff.),  with  Gower's  general 
record  in  the  use  of  Benoit  (see  pp.  6-7,  below),  and  with  the  epithet  "toutdis 
veillant,"  the  error  may  pass  as  significant.  That  Gower's  summary  is  based 
rather  on  Benoit  than  on  Guido  is  shown  by  the  epithet  "  toutdis  veillant  " 
applied  to  the  dragon  ;  Benoit's  words  are  "  uns  serpenz  qui  toz  jorz  veille" 
(v.  1357)  ;  Guido  has  nothing  that  corresponds.  The  evidence  is  clinched  by 
the  fact  that  when  Gower,  later  in  life,  repeated  the  tale  at  full  length  in  the 
Confessio  Amantis,  he  not  only  expressly  cited  "the  bok  of  Troie"  (v,  3245), 
but  used  Benoit  as  his  chief  authority,  as  a  detailed  comparison  demonstrates 
beyond  a  peradventure.  There  too  he  speaks  of  "an  yle  which  Colchos  was 
cleped"  (v,  3265),  and  calls  the  guardian  of  the  Fleece  "a  serpent  which  mai 
nevere  slepe  "  (v,  3514)  ;  cf.  also — 

For  that  serpent  which,  nevere  slepte 
The  flees  of  gold  so  wel  he  kepte 
In  Colchos,  as  the  tale  is  told  (v,  6607-9). 

This  detail,  both,  in  the  Mirour  and  in  the  Confessio,  might  be  held  to  come 
from  Ovid's  "pervigilem  draconem  "  (Met.,  vii,  149)^  if  the  evidence  for 
Gower's  use  of  Benoit  in  the  Confessio  were  not,  as  it  is,  conclusive  and 
admitted.  See  Mr.  Macaulay's  note  on  Conf.  Am.,  y,  3247  ff.  _  I  have  verified 
his  results  by  a  careful  comparison  of  Gower,  Benoit,  and  Guido.  Boccaccio 
(De  Genealogia  Deorum,  xiii,  26,  ed.  1511,  fol.  98  recto)  calls  the  dragon 
"peruigilern."  For  "1'isle  de  Colchos"  see  also  Gower's  TraitU,  viii,  1. 
Chaucer's  "an  yle  that  called  was  Colcos,  Beyonde  Troye,  estward  in  the  see  " 
{Legend,  w.  1425-6)  is  from  Guido,  i,  1  ("in  quadam  insula  dicta  Colcos  ultra 
regni  Troiani  confinia  versus  orientalem  plagam,"  the  italicized  words  not 
appearing  in  Benoit). 


BENOIT    IN    GOWER  S    MIROUR. 


Here  we  have  an  obvious  allusion  to  Benoit's  "  good  physician," 
Goz.  When  Hector  had  returned  to  Troy  after  the  Second  Battle, 
triumphant  but  severely  wounded, — 


Li  bons  mires  Goz  li  senez, 

Qui  devers  Orient  fu  nez, 

Qni  plus  preisiez  fu  en  son  tens 

Que  Ypocras  ne  Galiens, 

Li  a  ses  plaies  reguardees 

E  afaitiees  e  lavees. 

Beivre  li  fist  une  poison 

Que  tost  le  traist  a  guarison. 

Li  cors  li  est  asoagiez  : 

Ne  puet  mais  estre  trop  gregiez. 


Un  poi  1'a  fait  desgeiiner, 
Puis  font  la  chambre  delivrer. 
Ainz  qu'il  s'endormist,  vient  li  Reis, 
Prianz  li  sages,  li  corteis. 
Demand  a  li  com  li  estait  ; 
Et  il  li  dist  que  bien  li  vait : 
"Demain,  senz  autre  demorance, 
Et  o  m'espee  e  o  ma  lance. 
Lor  mosterrai  si  jo  sui  sains  : 
De  90  seiez  vos  bien  certains." l 


And  again,  after  the  Eighth  Battle, — 


Bros  [var.   Goz]  li  Puilleis,  li  plus 

senez 

Qui  de  mirgie  fust  usez 
Ne  d'oignement  freis  ne  d'emplastre, 


Dedenz  la  Chambre  de  Labastre, 
Tailla  Hector  si  gentement 
Que  mal  ne  trait,  dolor  ne  sent.2 


There  can  be  no  doubt  at  all  that  Gower  is  alluding  to  Benoit's 
narrative,  for  Guido  says  nothing  whatever  about  the  physician  or 
his  treatment  of  Hector.3 

,  In  the  third  passage  in  the  Mirour  (vv.  16700-2),  Gower  says 
that  Paris  first  saw  Helen  in  an  island  : — 

Auci  Paris  ne  fist  que  sage, 
Qant  vist  Heleine,  q'ert  venue 
En  1'isle  presde  son  rivage. 

This  implies  a  knowledge  of  the  Trojan  story  in  the  form  in  which 
it  occurs  in  Benoit  and  Guido : — In  the  course  of  his  Grecian 
voyage,  Paris  lands  on  the  island  of  "  Citherea,"  where  there  is  a 
famous  temple  of  Venus  near  the  shore.  The  inhabitants  are 
celebrating  an  annual  feast-day  in  the  temple.  Paris  and  his 
comrades  visit  the  building  and  make  an  offering  to  Diana.  The 
beauty  of  Paris  and  the  fine  appearance  of  his  troop  attract  the 
attention  of  the  great  assembly.  Helen  hears  the  news  and  goes  to 

1  Roman  de  Troie,  vv.  10183-202. 

2  Vv.  14557-62.     See  the  numerous  variants  in  the  edition  of  Constaus. 
Gower  may  have  had  either  or  both  of  these  passages  in  mind  :  it  makes  no 
difference.     Very  likely  his  manuscript  of  Benoit  had  Goz  in  both  places. 

3  Guido  (sig.  h  3  recto,  col.  2)  has  not  a  word  corresponding  to  Benoit,  w. 
10183-202  (his  "  Troiani  vero  interea  treuga  ipsa  duraute  eorum  vulneratos  in 
bello  peritorum  consilio  medicorum  curare  faciunt  et  mederi  ita  quod  in  fine 
duorum  mensium  eorundem  restituti  sunt  qui  vulnerati  fuerant  integre  sani- 
tati "  reflects  the  passage  very  faintly,  but  is  in  the  main  from  Benoit,  vv. 
10253-8).     In  the  other  place  (Benoit,  vv,  14557-62)  he  has  "  Hector  sibi 
de  vulneribus  suis  medetur  iacens  tune  in  aula  pulchritudinis  "  (sig.  i  4  verso, 
col.  1). 


6  BENOIT    IN    GOWER'S    MIROUR. 

the  festival,  desiring  to  see  the  handsome  stranger.  They  fall  in 
love  with  each  other  in  the  temple.1  The  variation  from  the 
classical  tale  is  evident.  That  Gower  is  indebted  rather  to  Benoit 
than  to  Guido  cannot  be  proved,  but  probability  sets  strongly  that 
way ;  for  when  he  tells  the  fate  of  Paris  and  Helen  in  the  Con- 
fessio  Amantis,2  he  demonstrably  follows  Benoit,  as  in  the  case  of 
the  Golden  Fleece. 

From  these  three  passages,  then,  it  is  certain  that  Gower  was 
familiar  with  Benoit' s  Roman  de  Troie  when  he  wrote  the  Mirour 
\  de  TOmme.  This  would  be  antecedently  probable  anyway.  An 
English  author  of  the  fourteenth  century  could  hardly  venture  to 
write  a  French  poem  of  30,000  lines  without  some  previous 
acquaintance  with  French  literature,  in  which  Benoit  was,  and  is,  a 
distinguished  figure.  It  is  a  satisfaction,  however,  not  to  appeal  to 
arguments  a  priori,  but  to  build,  for  once  on  a  solid  foundation  of 
fact. 

What  we  have  observed  of  Gower's  familiarity  with  the  Roman 
de  Troie  when  he  wrote  the  Mirour,  agrees  with  the  extensive  and 
continual  employment  that  he  makes  of  the  poem  in  his  later 
works.  In  the  Vox  Clamantis  he  describes  the  reign  of  the  mob  in 
London  (nova  Troia)  under  the  figure  of  the  Fall  of  Troy,  mention- 
ing the  "  wise  old  man  "  Calcas,  Antenor,  Diomedes,  and  others,3 — 
including  Troilus  in  his  martial  capacity  and  in  proverbial  associa- 
tion with  Hector,4  and  he  narrates  the  murder  of  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury  under  the  figure  of  Helenus  "qui  palladium  Troie 
seruabat  ab  ara."5 

The  Confessio  Amaniis  abounds  in  matter  from  Benoit.  Three 
of  the  Balades  contain  similar  material,6  and  the  Traitie  several 
times  has  recourse  to  BenoiUfor  examples.7  Thus  from  his  earliest 

1  Benoit,   vv.   4235  ff.  ;  Guido,  fol.  d  3  recto.      The  source  for  the  temple 
incident  (with  the  mistake  of  the  island  of  Citherea  for  Cythera)  is  Dares, 
9-10  ;    Dictys,   i,   3,  makes  Paris  (Alexander)  and  Helen  meet  at  Sparta. 
Nobody  will  maintain  that  Gower  derived  the  detail  of  the  island  from  Dares 
rather  than  from  Benoit.     Boccaccio,  De  Genealogia  Deorum,  xii,  12,  fol.  88 
recto,  cites  Dares  Phrygius  as  authority  for  the  ' '  insula  Cy therea  "  story. 

2  v,  7195  ff.     For  the  island,  see  v,  7469  ff.     I  do  not  mean  to  exclude  the 
influence  of  Guido  on  this  part  of  the  Confessio  Amantis,  but  Beuoit  is  clearly 
Gower's  real  source,  as  Mr.  Macaulay  has  noted. 

3  Book  i,  chap.  13,  heading  ;  also  vv.  961  ff. 

4  "  Hectoris  aut  Troili  nil  tune  audacia  vicit "  (i,  933).    This  verse  has 
escaped  the  notice  of  Mr.  Tatlock,  who  remarks  that  Gower  "  never  men- 
tions Troilus  but  as  a  lover  "  (p.  30), 

5  i.  1001  ff. 

6  Nos.  20,  30,  and  43. 

7  vi,  3  ;  viii,  1  ;  ix,  2-3 ;  x,  1. 


BENOIT    IN    GOWERS    MIROUR.  7 

extant  work  l  to  his  latest  Gower  evinces  unwavering  devotion  to 
the  Roman  de  Troie.  Manifestly  it  was  one  of  his  favorite  books 
and  he  made  it  his  constant  companion.  We  can  hardly  doubt 
that  there  was  a  manuscript  of  the  poem  in  his  bookchest,  and  that 
he  read  it  enthusiastically,  returning  to  its  pages  with  unabated 
delight. 

Gower's  lifelong  interest  in  the  Roman  de  Troie  is  significant 
enough,  for  it  helps  us  to  a  conception  of  what  may  be  called  the 
background  of  his  mind  during  the  composition  of  the  Mirour. 
But,  as  we  have  seen,  we  are  not  dependent  on  a  retroactive  infer- 
ence from  the  later  poems  for  our  knowledge  that  he  knew  Benoit 
well  when  he  wrote  the  verses  about  Troilus.  We  have  first-rate 
evidence  in  the  Mirour  itself. 

The  three  passages  which  we  have  studied  are  decisive.  Two  of 
them,  to  be  sure,  refer  to  well-known  stories  (Jason  and  Medea, 
Paris  and  Helen),  but  in  terms  that  instantly  betray  the  source  of 
information  which  Gower  had  in  mind.  The  other  is  in  a  category 
by  itself.  Goz,  the  skilful  physician  from  the  East,  is  mentioned 
but  twice  in  the  Roman  de  Troie,  and  all  that  is  said  about  him 
occupies  just  twenty-six  verses  in  this  vast  poem  of  more  than 
30,000  lines.2  Yet  Gower  alludes  to  him  as  casually  as  he  might 
have  alluded  to  Galen  or  Hippocrates.  Is  it  likely  that  a  poet  who 
had  the  details  of  Benoit's  romance  so  vividly  in  mind  could  have 
mentioned  "  the  story  of  Troylus  and  the  fair  Creseide "  without 
thinking  of  Benoit's  account  of  their  amour  1 

But  we  have  not  yet  done  with  the  proved  allusions  to  Benoit  in 
the  Mirour.  Let  us  see  where  they  come  in  that  poem  with  respect 
to  the  verses  about  Troilus.  The  Jason  passage  is  vv.  3724-30,  the 
Troilus  passage  is  vv.  5253-6,  the  physician  passage  is  vv.  5519-20. 
In  other  words,  the  three  passages,  Jason,  Troilus,  physician,  fall 
within  a  compass  of  1800  lines,  the  Troilus  verses  standing 
about  1500  lines  after  the  Jason  passage  and  less  than  300 
lines  before  the  physician  passage.  Further,  the  Troilus  passage 
and  the  physician  passage  are  in  consecutive  and  closely  related  chap- 

1  Before  Gower  composed  the  Mirour,  he  had  written  love  poems — "  les 
fols  ditz  d'amour  fesoie,  Dont  en  chantant  je  carolloie"  (vv.  27341-2).     Either 
these  are  lost — like  most  of  Chaucer's   "  ditees  and  songes  glade  "  which 
Gower  mentions  as  filling  the  land  everywhere  (Confessio  Amantis,  first  version, 
viii,  2941-7,  Macaulay,  III,  466),  or,  as  is  extremely  probable,  some  of  them 
are  included  in  the  Cirikante  Balades  (see  Appendix  IV). 

2  I  assume  that  Gower's  copy  of  Benoit  mentioned  the  same  physician  in 
both  places  (see  p.  5,  note  2,  above).     If  it  had  "  Broz  "  in  the  second  passage, 
the  argument  is  not  affected. 


8  TROILUS    IN    BENOIT. 

ters — the  former  in  the  chapter  on  Sompnolence,  eldest  daughter 
of  Accidie,  the  latter  in  that  on  her  second  daughter,  Peresce.  Under 
these  circumstances,  it  is  not  merely  unlikely,  it  is  inconceivable, 
that  Gower  failed  to  think  of  the  story  of  Troilus  in  the  Roman  de 
Troie  as  he  wrote  his  pretty  verses  about  the  Sleepy  Man's  dream, 
whatever  else  he  may  have  been  thinking  of.1 

Let  us  now  consider  whether  there  is  anything  surprising  in 
Gower' s  mentioning  the  Troilus  story  in  this  passage,  even  if  he 
knew  it  from  Benoit  alone.  Certainly  not.  It  was  "vain  and 
pleasant,"  a  tale  of  worldly  love,  fit  occupation  for  a  leisure  hour 
or  for  the  idle  thoughts  of  a  lazy  fellow.  The  contrast  between 
such  a  story  and  the  solemn  service  to  which  ly  Sompnolent  ought 
to  have  been  attending  is  complete.  Gower  could  have  mentioned 
no  more  appropriate  theme  for  the  Sleepy  Man's  dreams  in  church. 

But,  it  is  objected,  the  story  of  Troilus'  love  "  does  not  form  a 
unified  episode "  in  Benoit's  romance ; 2  it  exists  there  merely  as 
"  a  few  scattered  bits  lost  in  a  long  poem."  3  Gower,  therefore, 
would  not  have  thought  of  mentioning  the  matter  at  all,  unless  both 
he  and  his  readers  had  known  the  work  of  Chaucer  well.  This 
objection  will  not  long  detain  us.  It  springs  from  a  misapprehen- 
sion in  matters  of  fact.  Benoit's  story  of  Troilus'  unhappy  love  and 
his  death  falls  within  a  compass  of  some  8800  lines,4  and  of  those 
lines  it  occupies  about  1900.  I  append  a  table,  that  the  reader  may 
see  at  a  glance  how  the  material  is  distributed.5  The  breaks  are 
due  merely  to  Benoit's  straightforward  chronological  method, — he 
is  writing  an  orderly  history  of  the  Trojan  War.  They  do  not  blur 
the  outlines  of  the  love  story,  nor  do  they  interfere  with  its  essential 
unity.  The  thread  is  kept  well  in  hand,  or  picked  up  readily  when 
the  time  comes.  And  the  intervening  portions  of  the  general 
narrative  more  than  once  concern  themselves  with  Troilus,  so  that, 
if  one  were  disposed  to  claim  everything,  the  sum  of  1900  verses 
might  be  substantially  increased.  For  it  is  obviously  impossible 
to  separate  Troilus  the  lover  from  Troilus  the  valiant  knight,  "the 

1  This  conclusion,  which  needs  no  argument,  might  be  strengthened — if  it 
were  not  already  as  cogent  as  possible — by  considering  that  Benoit  mentions 
Troilus  almost  immediately  after  the  episode  of  Hector's  cure,  exalting  his 
prowess  shown  in  the  same  battle  in  which  Hector  has  been  wounded  (vv. 
10221-26,  with  an  interval  of  only  eighteen  lines). 

2  "While   Troilus  is  very  prominent   all   through  Benoit's  and  Guido's 
works  as  a  warrior,  the  mention  of  his  lady  and  his  amour  are  at  very  little 
length,  and  do  not  even  form  a  unified  episode  "  (Tatlock,  p.  28). 

3  Tatlock,  p.  30. 

4  Between  v.  12930  and  v.  21745.  5  See  pp.  62  if.,  below. 


TROILUS    IN    BENOIT. 

wise  and  worthy  Hector  the  seconde."  In  short,  Benoit's  Troilusj 
story  is  a  considerable  affair;  it  does  not  consist  of  scattered  bits,' 
and  it  is  by  no  means  "  lost "  in  the  Roman  de  Troie.  On  its  merits 
I  need  not  here  insist ;  they  have  been  sufficiently  brought  out  by 
several  critics  who,  having  no  particular  thesis  to  defend  or  attack, 
have  had  no  temptation  either  to  belittle  them  or  to  emphasize 
them  unduly.1  It  will  be  enough  to  say  that,  if  Chaucer  is  much 
indebted  to  Boccaccio,  Boccaccio  in  his  turn  owes  far  more  to 
Benoit  than  is  commonly  recognized. 

Clearly,  then,  there  is  nothing  in  the  form  or  the  situation  of 
the  Troilus  story  in  the  Roman  de  Troie  to  make  against  the! 
pregnant  and  unforced  position  that  Gower  might  well  have  alluded! 
to  it  on  the  basis  of  Benoit  alone.  A  love  story  of  1900  lines  was 
at  least  as  likely  to  impress  itself  upon  his  imagination  as  the  two 
brief  passages  (twenty-six  verses  in  all)  about  the  physician  who 
cured  Hector.  We  need  not  appeal  to  the  general  mediaeval  habit 
of  citing  authorities,  bringing  in  exempla,  and  accumulating  names 
without  much  regard  to  "obviousness  or  propriety."  For  an 
allusion  to  Benoit's  Troilus  story  was  both  natural  and  appropriate.2 
Indeed,  there  is  a  pertinent  fact  which  takes  the  question  of 
naturalness  quite  out  of  the  class  of  ordinary  a  priori  considerations. 

1  It  is  impossible  not  to    quote    the    eloquent    tribute   of   Savj-Lopez, 
Romania,  XXVII,  471-2:    "Ma  qnando  Griseida  [i.e.  Briseida]  nel  campo 
greco  s'accende  di  Diomede  e  comincia  a  dimeiiticare  1'amico  lontano,  tutta  la 
sua  intima  lotta  e  descritta  dal  trovero  [sc.  Benoit]  con  efficacia  grande  e  con 
profonda  finezza  psicologica,  fin  che  in  lei  prorompe  irresistibiie  la  voce  della 
passione  : 

Dex  donge  bien  a  Troylus  ! 
Quant  nel  puis  amer,  ne  il  mei, 
A  cestui  me  done  et  otrei." 

Perhaps  it  is  only  fair  to  append  the  highly  figurative  passage  in  which 
another  eminent  scholar  pays  his  respects  to  Benoit  and  Boccaccio: — "So 
finden  wir  also  die  Rudimente  von  Boccaccio's  Gedicht  in  Benoits  Roman,  wo- 
sie  aber  unter  den  dreissigtausend  Versen  fast  ganz  verschwiuden.  Es  sind 
eiuzelne  rohe  Perlen,  welche  Boccaccio  aus  dem  Meere  Benoits  herausfischte 
und  mit  den  glanzenden  kostbareu  Diamanten  seines  eigenen  Geistes  zum 
prachtvollen  Kleinod  verband  "  (Landau,  Giovanni  Boccaccio,  1877,  p.  90). 
This  same  critic,  it  may  be  added,  speaks  of  Chaucer  as  a  plagiarist 
("  Boccaccio's  Filostrato  hat  aber  nicht  bloss  von  einem  Plagiator,  sondern 
auch  von  seinem  Herausgeber  zu  leiden  gehabt,"  p.  94),  and  says  that  in  his. 
Troilus  we  have  neither  the  heroes  of  Homer,  nor  the  adventurous  knights  of 
Benoit,  nor  yet  Boccaccio's  Neapolitan  court  ladies,  ' '  sondern  derbe  euglische 
Spiessbtirger  des  vierzehnten  Jahrhunderts  "  (p.  93). 

2  To  avoid  the  possibility  of  misunderstanding,  let  me  remind  the  reader 
that  we  are  here  considering  the  naturalness  and  propriety  of  an  allusion  to 
the  Troilus  story,  not  the  naturalness  of  calling  Troilus'  love  Crcseide.     We 
shall  take  up  that  name  in  due  season. 


10  TROILUS    IN    FROISSART. 

Froissart,  in  the  Paradys  d' Amours,1  a  poem  written  before  1370 
and  under  French  influences  alone,  puts  Troilus  at  the  head  of  a 
long  list  of  lovers.2  This  shows  what  effect  Benoit's  episode  had 
upon  Froissart.  And,  in  citing  Froissart,  we  should  not  forget 
that  he  had  been  in  England  in  the  service  of  Queen  Philippa,  that 
the  Duchess  Blanche  was  his  patroness,3  and  that  both  he  and  his 
works  were  well  known  to  Englishmen.  Chaucer,  for  example, 
utilized  the  Paradys  d' Amours  in  the  Book  of  the  Duchess 4  and 
again  in  the  Prologue  to  the  Legend  of  Good  Women.5  Any 
argument  that  can  be  urged  to  prove  that  Gower  was  unlikely  to 
mention  the  Troilus  story  in  1377  on  the  basis  of  Benoit  alone,  will 
apply  with  equal  or  greater  force  to  Froissart  before  1370.  Yet 
Froissart  did  mention  Troilus;  he  even  gave  him  a  highly  con- 
spicuous position  in  a  poem  intended  not  only  for  Frenchmen  but 
— like  Gower's  Mirour — for  French-reading  natives  of  England.6 

1  V.  974  (Podsies,  ed.  Scheler,  I,   29).     Froissart's  mention  of  Troilus  is 
noted  by  R.   Dernedde,    Uber  die  den  altfranzosischen  Dichtern  bekannten 
epischen  Stojfe  aus  dem  Altertum,  1887,  p.  123,  and  Neilson,  The  Origin  and 
Sources  of  the  Court  of  Love,  1899,  p.  79  (Harvard  Studies  and  Notes,  VI ; 
cf.    Tatlock,    Modern  Philology,    I,    323,   note).      It  is  utilized   by    Lowes 
(Publications  of  the  Modern  Language  Association,  XX,  825)  in  reply  to  Tatlock 
(Modern  Philology,  I,  317  ff.)  ;  cf.  Tatlock  Origin  and  Development,  p.  29, 
and  Lowes,  Publications,  as  above,  XXIII,  301-2. 

2  Froissart's  knowledge  of  the  Roman  de  Troie  is  shown  also  by  his  mention 
of  the  prophecies  of  Helenus  and  Cassandra  (see  Benoit,  vv.  3925-66,  4X27-50) 
and  of  the  fatal  love  of  Achilles  for  Polyxena  (see  Beuoit,  vv.  21911  ff.)  in  Le 
Joli  Buisson  de  Jonece,  vv.  3336-59  (Poesies,  II,  99-100). 

3  Joli  Buisson,  vv.  241-52  (Poesies,  II,  8). 

4  See    Englische  Studien,   XXVI,   321  ff.  Longnon,  in  his  Reponse  aux 
Objections  de  M.  Kittredge  (Meliador,  III,  364,  n.  1),  accepts  the  use  of  the 
Paradys  in  the  Book  of  the  Duchess. 

5  SeeVollmer,  The  Boke  of  Otipide,  pp.  101-2,  and  especially,  Lowes,  Pub- 
lications of  the  Modern  Language  Association,  XIX,  612  ff.;  cf.  Tatlock,  p.  88. 

6  In  the  Joli  Buisson,  vv.  230-77,  Froissart  pays  a  tribute  to  the  following 
English   patrons, — Edward   III,    Queen  Philippa,    the  Duchess  Blanche  of 
Lancaster,  Ysabel  de  Couci  (daughter  of  Edward  III),  the  Earl  of  Hereford, 
Monseigneur  de  Mauni,   the  Earl  of  Pembroke,    and    "  le    grant    seigneur 
Espensier."     Among  Scots  (vv.  364-9)  he  thanks  the  King,  the  good  Earl  of 
Douglas,  "cils  de  Mare  [Mar]  et  cils  de  la  Marce  [March],  Gils  de  Surlant 
[Sutherland]  et  cils  de  Fi  [Fife]."   Chaucer's  wife  appears  as  domicella  of  Queen 
Philippa's  chamber,  September  12,  1366  (Life- Records,  p.  158),  and  it  is  clear 
that  she  had  already  been  for  some  years  in  the  queen's  service  (Kirk,  Life- 
Records,  p.  xix),  in  which  she  remained  till  the  Queen's  death  (August  15, 1369). 
Froissart  was  in  Queen  Philippa's  service  from  1365  to  1369,  and,  though  absent 
from  England  during  a  considerable  portion  of  that  period,  he  was  in  personal 
attendance  during  most  of  1367  and  for  the  first  three  months  of  1368  (see  the 
details  in  Englische  Studien,    XXVI,    326-7).      Of  course  Chaucer's  wife 
must  have  known  Froissart,  and  it   is  equally  probable  that  Chaucer  was 
personally  acquainted  with  him.     For  Froissart's  sole  mention  of  Chaucer,  see 
Kervyn  de   Lettenhove's  edition,    VIII,    382   (cf.    Kirk,    Life  Records,   pp. 
xxvi-vii).     Froissart  was  on  good  terms  with  Sir  Richard  Stury  (XV,  143, 
157),  whom  Chaucer  of  course  knew  well. 


TROILUS    IN    FROISSART  11 

If  the  difference  in  character  between  Froissart's  work  and  the 
Mirour  be  urged  in  reply, — an  objection  of  little  or  no  weight, — 
it  is  more  than  counterbalanced  by  the  fact  that  a  conspicuous 
mention  of  Troilus  as  a  lover  by  Froissart — much  read  in  England, 
and  sure  to  have  been  read  by  Gower,  who  may  even  have  been 
personally  acquainted  with  him, — became  instantly  a  potential 
moving  cause  for  further  mention.1 

But  the  end  is  not  yet.  The  community  of  culture  between 
the  French  and  English  courts  in  the  latter  half  of  the  fourteenth 
century  is  a  matter  of  common  knowledge,  though  the  details  still 
afford  good  opportunities  for  investigation.  French  fashions  of 
literary  composition  were  English  fashions  as  well,  and  what 
Frenchmen  read  and  understood, — particularly  in  the  way  of 

1  Mr.  Tatlock's  list  of  French  poems,  etc. ,  which  refer  to  Troilus  as  a 
warrior  (p.  29)  but  do  not  mention  him  as  a  lover,  is  interesting  and  valuable, 
but  it  does  not  tend  to  prove  that  Gower, — who  had  the  Roman  de  Troie  in 
his  mind  while  he  was  writing  the  Mirour, — might  not  naturally  have  referred 
to  the  Troilus  story  even  if  Chaucer's  poem  had  never  existed.  Under  the 
circumstances,  the  single  passage  from  Froissart  outweighs  a  great  deal  of 
silence  (a  rather  imponderable  commodity  in  any  event).  If  it  were  worth 
while  to  linger  on  this  point,  there  is  some  temptation.  Let  us  see  what  we 
can  do  with  two  or  three  instances  which  Mr.  Tatlock  has  overlooked.  In 
1377,  as  we  have  seen,  Gower  mentioned  Troilus  as  a  lover  ;  a  few  years  later, 
in  book  i,  verse  993,  of  the  Vox  Clamantis,  he  mentions  him  as  a  warrior,  not 
as  a  lover  :  "  Hectoris  aut  Troili  nil  time  andacia  vicit."  More  striking  is  the 
procedure  of  Boccaccio  himself.  In  the  Amoroso,  Visione,  he  twice  mentions 
Troilus,  once  as  a  prosperous  aspirant  for  worldly  glory,  and  again  as  dead 
(caps.  7,  34,  Opere  Volgari,  1833,  XIV,  30,  139).  In  both  places  it  is 
Troilus  the  warrior,  rather  than  Troilus  the  lover.  Of  course,  if  we  did  not 
know  the  facts,  there  would  be  some  temptation  for  anybody  who  could 
utilize  such  a  point  to  infer  that  when  he  wrote  the  Visione,  Boccaccio  had 
not  already  exalted  Troilus  as  a  lover,  and  that  therefore  the  Filostrato  was 
later  than  the  Visione.  And  such  an  argument  might  be  further  supported 
by  the  fact  that  the  Visione  does  mention  as  lovers  "  Florio  and  Biancofiore  " 
(cap.  29,  XIV,  118),  whom  Boccaccio  had  already  written  up  in  the  Filocolo. 
"  But,"  as  Lord  Bacon  says,  "enough  of  these  toys  !  " 

The  Parlement  of  the  Thre  Ages  (vv.  323-31)  mentions  Troilus  in  its 
brief  summary  of  the  Trojan  story  : — 

Bot  the  lure  at  the  laste  light  appon  troye  ; 

For  there  sir  Priam  us  the  prynce  put  was  to  dethe, 

And  Pantasilia  J)e  quene  paste  hym  by  fore, 

Sir  Troylus,  a  trewe  knyghte,  fat  tristyly  hade  foghten, 

Neptolemus.  a  noble  knyghte  at  nede  fat  wolde  noghte  fayle, 

Palamedes,  a  prise  knyghte  and  preued  in  armes, 

Vlixes  and  Ercules  fat  full  euerrous  were  bothe, 

And  ofer  fele  of  fat  ferde  fared  of  the  same, 

As  Dittes  and  Dares  denied [e]n  togedir. 

Edited  by  Oollancz,  for  the  Roxburghe  Club,  1897,  p.  17.  The  source 
appears  to  be  Guido.  The  editor  dates  the  poem  about  1350,  or  a  little 
earlier  (p.  xi)  ;  cf.  H.  Bradley,  Athenceum,  April  18,  1903,  pp.  498-9.  This 
passage  has  apparently  escaped  Mr  Tatlock's  eye. 


12  TROILUS    IN    THE    CHAMBRILLAC. 

romance, — was  equally  intelligible  to  the  household  of  Edward  III 
and  of  Eichard  II.1  We  know  that  the  Roman  de  Troie  was 
much  read  on  both  sides  of  the  Channel.  It  would  be  strange, 
indeed,  if  the  episode  of  Troilus  and  Briseida  had  been  overlooked 
by  readers  whose  intellectual  and  social  diversions  centered  in  the 
discussion  of  chivalric  love  and  of  the  casuistry  to  which  its 
complications  gave  rise.  Of  course,  most  of  the  occasional  lyrics 
thrown  off  impromptu  by  the  mob  of  gentlemen  who  wrote  with 
ease,  have  perished — like  many  of  Gower's  and  most  of  Chaucer's. 
So  much  the  greater  is  the  significance  attaching  to  such  of  them 
as  the  iniquity  of  oblivion  has  spared. 

The  second  of  the  Responses  to  Les  Cent  Ballades  is  by  Jean 
de  Chambrillac.2  It  contains  the  following  stanza  : — 

Bien  ay  oy  de  Troyluz,  Car  quant  de  Troie  fu  partie, 

Le  beau,  le  preux  de  hault  pouoir,  Dyomedes  en  fu  saisiz  : 

Qui  a  Brisayda  fu  druz,  Sa  dame  fu,  il  ses  amis. 

Ne  d'autre  amer  n'ot  nul  vouloir.  Cela  m'aprent  que  je  m'atieigne 

Le  bien  qu'il  en  pot  recevoir  Qti'en  lieu  seul  soit  mon  cuer  assiz  ; 

Fu  qu'il  demoura  sans  amie  ;  Je  ne  creing  pas  que  mal  m'en  vieigne. 

At  first  sight  this  graceful  stanza  may  seem  too  late  to  throw 
any  light  on  the  subject  that  we  are  discussing,  for  it  was  written 
in  1389.  A  moment's  thought,  however,  suffices  to  reveal  its  place 
in  the  argument.  The  stanza  is  based  solely  on  Benoit,  with  no 
influence  from  Boccaccio  or  Chaucer,  as  the  name  Brisayda 
proves.  So  was  Froissart's  mention  of  Troilus  at  the  head  of  a 
list  of  distinguished  lovers, — before  1370.  What  follows?  Why, 
that  from  1370  to  1389 — a  period  that  overlaps  at  both  ends 
the  time  which  we  have  to  consider — it  was  perfectly  natural 
for  any  courtly  poet,  in  France  or  England,  to  allude  to  the 
amour  of  Troilus,  merely  on  the  ground  of  the  episode  in  the 
Roman  de  Troie? 

Three  things  must  now   be    clear :    (1)  that  Gower  knew   the 

1  Some  of  the  relations  between  the  French  circle  of  chivalric   versifiers 
and  English   poetry  in  the  fourteenth  century  are  noted  in  an  article  in 
Modern  Philology,  I,  1  ff.    See  also  Lowes,  Publications  of  the  Modern  Language 
Association,  XIX,  593  ff.   (with  references). 

2  Les  Cent  Ballades,  ed.  Raynaud,  pp.  203-4.     Mr.  Tatlock  refers  to  this 
poem   in  a  footnote  (p.   29,   note  5),  inadvertently  ascribing  it  to  Jean  le 
Seneschal  ;  but  its  significance  does  not  strike  him. 

3  How  dangerous  the  argumcntum  ex  silcntio  is,  when  applied  to  vers  de 
societe  of  the  interval  in  question,  appears  from  the  fact  that  the  ballade  in 
which  this  stanza  occurs  appears  to  be  the  sole-  surviving  poem  of  Jean  de 
Chambrillac, — and  yet  we  cannot  doubt  that  he  was  a  fluent  versifier  of  more 
than  ordinary  merit. 


CRESEIDE   AND    BRISEIDA.  13 

Troilus  story  in  Benoit  when  he  composed  the  Mirour/  (2)  that 
he  had  Benoit's  account  in  his  mind  when  he  wrote  the  Sompnolent 
passage,  whatever  else  he  may  have  had  his  eye  on,  and  (3)  that 
there  would  have  been  nothing  strange  in  his  alluding  to  the  amour 
of  Troilus  merely  on  the  basis  of  that  account,  without  an 
knowledge  of  Boccaccio  or  Chaucer.  In '"other  words,  if  the 
Sleepy  Man  had  dreamt  that  he  heard  somebody  singing  "la 
geste  de  Troylus  et  de  la  belle  Briseide"  instead  of  "Creseide," 
there  would  be  no  problem.  The  whole  argument  does,  then, 
as  Mr.  Lowes  has  said,  depend  in  the  last  analysis  on  a  single 
letter.1  We  have  only  one  phenomenon  to  account  for,  the 
appearance  of  Creseide  instead  of  Briseide  in  the  text  of  the 
Mirour. 

Mr.  Tatlock,  as  we  know,  explains  this  phenomenon  by  supposing 
that  Gower  is  alluding  to  Chaucer's  poem,  and  infers  that  the 
Troilus  was  published  (and  popular)  not  later  than  1377.  This 
seems,  perhaps,  the  most  obvious  explanation,  but  it  carries  with 
it,  in  the  opinion  of  most  scholars,  much  too  early  a  date  for  the 
Troilus.  In  all  fairness,  then,  we  should  look  about  us  a  little 
before  we  fall  in  with  Mr.  Tatlock's  theory.  And  first  we  should 
consider,  as  reasonable  beings,  whether  it  is  possible  that  Gower 
made  the  change  from  B  to  C  himself,  "  solely  and  merely  of 
his  own  spontaneous  motion,"  without  any  help  from  either 
Boccaccio  or  Chaucer.  In  order  to  answer  this  question  judicially, 
we  shall  be  forced  to  turn  back  to  Benoit  for  a  moment. 

The  only  information  about  Briseida  which  the  French  romancer 
found  in  his  sources  was  contained  in  a  single  brief  passage  of  Dares 
Phrygius.  In  concluding  his  famous  list  of  Greek  portraits,  Haresu 
writes  :  "  Briseidam  formosam,  non  alta  statura,  candidam,  capillo 
flavo  et  molli,  superciliis  iunctis,  oculis  venustis,  corpore  aequali, 
blandam,  affabilem,  verecundam,  animo  simplici,  piam."  This  is 
every  word  that  Dares  vouchsafes  on  the  subject  of  ^rjseida,  and 
Dictys  does  not  mention  her  at  all.  The  association  of  Briseida 
with  Troilus  was  Benoit's  own  idea.  As  for  Chryseida,  she  is 
mentioned  by  neither  Dictys  nor  Dares. 

I  have  said  that  Dictys  does  not  mention  either  Briseida  or 
Chryseida  at  all.  Nevertheless,  he  does  tell,  with  additions  and 

1  Publications  of  the  Modern  Language  Association,  XX,  826.  The 
difference  between  Creseide  and  Criseyde,  and  the  adoption  of  a  French  form 
in  final  e  instead  of  a  Latin  (or  Italian)  form  in  final  a  are  matters  of  nc 
moment. 


14  BRISEIS   AND    CHRYSEIS    IN    DICTYS    AND    BENOIT. 

variations,  the  Homeric  story  of  Briseis  and  Chryseis,  and  here  is 
(in  brief)  the  account  that  he  gives  of  them, — 

In  the  early  days  of  the  war  an  oracle  is  reported  to  the  Greeks  to  the  effect 
that  they  must  offer  a  hecatomb  to  Apollo  Sminthius.  [There  is,  as  the 
context  shows,  a  temple  of  this  god  not  far  from  Troy.]  Chryses,  the  priest 
of  the  temple,  finding  himself  between  two  fires,  feigns  friendship  for  the 
Greeks  or  the  Trojans  pro  re  nata.1  He  superintends  the  sacrifice.2  About 
the  same  time,  Achilles  attacks  various  towns  which  are  the  natural  allies  of 
Troy.3  He  invades  the  country  of  the  Cilicians  and  takes  the  city  of 
Lyrnessus  ;  its  king,  Eetion,  is  killed ;  his  wife,  Ajitynome,  daughter  of 
Chryses,  is  captured.  Next  Achilles  takes  Pedasus,  acity  of the'  Leleges. 
Its  king,  Brises,  hangs  himself ;  his_daughter,  Hippodamia,  is  carried  off  by 
the  victor T^n  the  division  of  the  spoil,  Itsfynome  falls  to  Agamemnon  and 
Achilles  keeps  Hippodamia.5  Chryses  visits  the  Grecian  camp  to  beg  that  his 
daughter  Astynome  may  be  given  up  to  him.  All  agree  except  Agamemnon, 
who  dismisses  the  aged  priest  with  threats.6  Chryses  goes  home,  and  a 
pestilence  soon  attacks  the  Greeks.  Calchas,  the  Grecian  seer,  declares  that 
this  is  due  to  Apollo's  wrath,  and  that  Astynome  must  be  restored  to  her 
father.7  Agamemnon  consents,  provided  he  shall  receive  Hippodamia  in 
exchange.  Accordingly,  she  is  torn  away  from  Achilles,  and  Astynome  is 
sent  to  Chryses.8  Achilles  sulks  in  his  tent.9  After  some  time.  Chryses 
comes  to  the  camp  to  thank  the  Greeks,  and,  in  gratitude  for  their  kindness, 
as  well  as  for  the  good  treatment  which  Astynome  has  received  while  a 
prisoner,  he  returns  her  to  Agamemnon.10  Agamemnon  takes  an  oath 
"  inviolatam  a  se  in  eum  diem  Hippodamiam  mansisse."  u  There  is  a  public 
reconciliation,  and  Hippodamia  is  sent  back  to  the  tent  of  Achilles,12  where 
she  remains  till  his  death.13 

This  narrative  is  repeated,  in  detail,  by  Benoit.  But  he  does 
not  insert  it  in  its  chronological  place.  He  makes  it  a  part  of  the 
interminable  oration  which  Ajax  delivers  when  the  Grecian  leaders 
are  contending  for  the  Palladium.14  Now  it  so  happens  that  Dictys 
never  uses  the  patronymics  Briseis  (Briseida}  and  Chryseis 
(Chryseida),  though  he  tells  us,  in  so  many  words,  that  Hippodamia 
was  Brises'  daughter  and  he  calls  Astynome  "  Chrysi  filiam." 1& 
Benoit,  it  is  perfectly  clear,  did  not  know  that  Briseidam  (in  Dares) 
means  "  Brises'  daughter."  Hence  it  did  not  occur  to  him  that 
Briseida  (whom  he  knew  only  from  the  portrait  in  Dares)  and 
Hippodamia  (in  Dictys)  were  one  and  the  same  person.  Dares's 
Briseida,  therefore,  remained  for  Benoit  merely  "  the  portrait  of  a 
lady."  Accordingly,  he  felt  at  liberty  to  invent  a  history  for  her, 

1  "  Quisque  partium  ad  eum  venerat,  cum  his  se  adinnctum  esse  simulabat." 

2  Dictys,  ii,  14.  3  ii,  16.  4  ii,  17.  5  ii,  19. 
6  ii,  28-29.                    7  ii,  30.            8  ii,  33.             9  ii,  34. 
10  ii,  47.                       n  ii,  49.           12  ii,  51-52. 

13  iii,  12  (she  prepares  the  body  of  Patroclus  for  burial) ;  iv,  15  (Pyrrhus 
finds  her  in  charge  of  his  dead  father's  property). 

14  Vv.  26739  ff.     In  Dictys  (and  hence  in  Benoit)  this  contest  takes<  the 
place  of  the  classical  quarrel  over  the  arms  of  Achilles  (see  Ovid,  Met.,  xiii,  1 
ff.  ;  Dictys,  v,  14-15).  15  ii,  17. 


BRISEIS    IN   OVID.  15 

and  he  attached  her  to  Troilus  and  Diomedes  without  a  suspicion  of 
the  inconsistency  in  which  he  was  entangling  himself. 

Eut  how  about  Gower  1  So  fluent  a  Latinist  can  hardly  have  been 
ignorant  of  the  ordinary  patronymic  endings.1  Would  he  not  have 
perceived,  at  a  glance,  that  Briseida  means  "  daughter  of  Brises,"  and 
that  Benoit  had  confused  the  dramatis  personae  ?  This  question,, 
however,  need  not  be  pressed.  For  Gower  was  not  dependent  on  his 
knowledge  of  Latin  suffixes.  He  had  an  external  source  of  inform- 
ation. From  the  third  epistle_Qf_Qvid's  Heroides  (Briseis  Achilli), 
professedly  written  while  Briseida  2  was  in  the  hands  of  Agamemnon, 
and  from  two  famous  passages  in  the  Remedia  Amoris  3  Gower  had 
learned  her  genuine  story.4  When,  therefore,  he  read  in  Benoit  of 

1  "  Patron ymica  dicimtur  eo,  quod  trahuntur  a  patribus,  ut  Tydides  Tydei 
filius,  Aeneius  Aeneae  filins,  quamvis  et  a  matribus  et  maioribus  ducantur" 
(Isidore,  Etymologiae,  i,  22,  ed.  Otto,  in  Lindemann,  Corpus  Grammaticorum 
Latinofum  Vetcrum,  III,  22). 

2  I  adopt  the  accusative  because  that  was  the  form  which  Gower  himself  would 
employ.     The  third  Epistle  of  the  Heroides  contains  only  Briseide,  abl.  (v.  1), 
and  Briseida,  ace.  (v.  137)  except  in  the  superscription  (Briseis  Achilli)  ;  the 
Remedia  has  only  Briseide  (v.  777)  and  Briseida  (v.  783).     In  the  Confessio, 
ii,  2455,  Gower  writes  Brexeida  (the  marginal  Latin  has  "  de  amore  Brexeide"). 
Chaucer  uses  Briseida  (HousofFame,  v.  398)  and  Brixseyde  (Cant.  T.,  B,  71). 
Briseidam  is  the  only  form  in  Dares  (cap.  13) ;  Dictys  does  not  use  the  word 
at  all. 

3  Vv.  461-86,  777-84. 

4  That  Gower  was  acquainted  with  the  Heroides  and  the  Remedia  when  he 
composed  the  Mirour  cannot  be  proved ;  but  he  certainly  knew  both  works 
uncommonly  well  when  he  wrote  the  Vox  Clamantis,  for  he  borrows  more  than 
thirty  lines— in  parcels  of  from  one  to  four  verses — from  the  Remedia  (ranging 
from  v.  81  to  v.  732  of  that  poem)  and  he  appropriates  passages  from  at  least 
eleven  out  of  the  nineteen  complete  epistles  of  the  Heroides,  three  being  from 
the  Epistle  of  Briseis  itself  (Vox,  i,  1188,  1420,  1517-18  ;  Her.,  iii,  4,  24, 
43-44).     Between  v.  1358  and  v.  1460  of  book  i,  Gower  borrows  from  books 
iii,  iv,  xiv,  and  xv  of  the  Metamorphoses,  from  books  ii  and  iii  of  the  Ar& 
Amatoria,  from  books  i  and  v  of  the  Tristia,  from  Heroides,  iii,  v,  and  xix. 
from  the  Fasti,  and  from  the  Ex  Ponto  (see  Macaulay's  notes).    I  am  well  aware 
that  mediaeval  authors  often  used  collections  offlosculi,  or  elegant  extracts,  and 
that  there  is  a  formidable  list  of  Ovidian  flosculi  in  Vincent  of  Beauvais 
(Speculum  Historiale,  vi,  106-122,  ed.  1494,  Ms.  67-69),  but  no  use  offlosculi 
will  explain  Gower's  knowledge  of  Ovid  as  shown  in  the  Vox  Clamantis.   Nor  will 
any  one  have  recourse  to  such  an  argument  unless  he  is  "  at  Dulcarnon,  right 
at  his  wittes  ende."     Still,  we  may  note,  for  safety's  sake,  that  some  of  the 
verses  which  Gower  borrows  are  not  of  a  kind  to  be  included  in  anthologies, — 
for  instance,  y.  24  of  the  Epistle  of  Briseis,  "  'Quid  fles  ?  hie  parvo  tempore,' 
dixit,  '  eris,' " — which  he  reproduces  as  ' '  Quid  fiigis  ?  hie  parvo  tempore  vivus- 
eris  "  (Vox  Clamantis,  i,  1420). 

That  Gower  makes  little  or  no  use  of  Ovid  in  the  Mirour  need  not  surprise 
us.  He  likewise  makes  very  little  use  of  Benoit,  though  we  have  seen  that 
he  had  the  Roman  de  Troie  at  his  fingers'  ends.  The  matter  and  style  of  the 
Mirour — as  well  as  the  encyclopaedic  treatises  on  ethics  and  religion  which 
were  its  models — were  not  favorable  to  the  extensive  employment  of  either  the- 
Roman  poet  or  the  French  romancer.  The  quotations  and  allusions  in  the 
Mirour  generally  go  back  to  the  Bible,  Seneca,  the  Latin  fathers,  and  other 


16  GOWER   AND    OVID. 

"  Hippodamia,  daughter  of  Brises,"  and  of  her  relations  with 
Agamemnon  and  Achilles,  he  could  not  fail  to  perceive  that  this 
was  the  Briseida  of  the  Heroides,  a  personage  already  associated  in 
his  mind  with  the  most  illustrious  ladies  of  the  antique  world — 
with  Phyllis  and  Medea  and  Helen  and  Hero  and  Dido.  And 
Benoit's  error  in  assigning  to  her  two  distinct  and  inconsistent  rdles 
— one  under  the  name  of  "  Briseida  "  and  the  other  under  that  of 
"Hippodamia,  Brises1  daughter" — would  be  clear  to  him  in  an 
instant.  But  Gower  had  no  occasion  to  reject  Benoit's  account  of 
Troilus'  unhappy  love  affair, — that  was  right  enough,  for  it  collided 
with  nothing  in  Ovid  or  elsewhere.  Troilus  and  Diomedes,  then, 
were  rivals  for  the  favor  of  an  inconstant  daughter  of  Calchas, 
but  her  name  could  not  have  been  Briseida,  for  Briseida  was  some- 
body else,  the  heroine  of  a  famous  story.  The  conclusion  was 
inevitable  in  Gower's  mind  :  Benoit  had  simply  got  the  name 
wrong.1 

Gower's  interest  in  the  genuine  Briseida  story  comes  out  in 
the  Confessio  Amantis,  where  he  cites  her  case  in  discussing 
"  supplantacioun  "  : — 

Ensample  I  finde  therupon,  "Which  named  was  Brexeida  ; 

At  Troie  how  that  Agamenon  And  also  of  Criseida, 

Supplantede  the  worthie  knyht  Whom  Troilus  to  love  ches, 

Achilles  of  that  swete  wiht  Supplanted  hath  Diomedes.2 

serious  books  (see  Macaulay's  Gower,  I,  Ivi-lviii.  Cf.  Miss  R.  ElfreJa  Fowler's 
thesis,  Une  Source  francaise  des  Poemesde  Gower,  Macon,  1905, — a  learned  and 
laborious  treatise,  to  the  conclusions  of  which,  however,  I  do  not  feel  ready  to 
subscribe).  In  contrasting  the  materials  and  contents  of  the  Mirour  with 
those  of  the  Confessio  Amantis,  we  may  well  remember  a  similarly  striking 
contrast  between  the  Speculum  Morale  and  the  Speculum  Historiale  of  Vincent 
of  Beauvais.  Note  also  that  whereas  the  Vox  Clamantis,  which  is  in  the 
elegiac  stanza,  contains  many  borrowings  from  Ovid,  the  Cronica  Tripertita, 
which  is  in  leonine  hexameters,  shows  little  or  no  acquaintance  with  him  ; 
yet  the  Cronica  Tripertita  is  later  than  the  Vox  Clamantis  (cf.  Macaulay's 
Gower,  IV,  xxxiii). 

When  Gower  wrote  the  Troilus  passage  in  the  Mirour  he  was  forty-five  years 
old  ;  when  he  negotiated  loans  in  the  Vox  Clamantis,  he  was  about  fifty. 
Surely  he  did  not  obtain  his  Ovidian  knowledge  between  these  ages.  If  a  man 
had  not  read  Ovid  before  he  was  forty-five,  he  was  not  likely  to  read  him  at 
all.  We  may  cheerfully  accept  the  judgment  of  Mr.  Macaulay,  who  has  no 
thesis  to  maintain  :  "  His  knowledge  of  Ovid  seems  to  have  been  pretty 
complete,  for  he  borrows  from  every  section  of  his  works  with  the  air  of  one 
who  knows  perfectly  well  where  to  turn  for  what  he  wants"  (  Works  of  Gower, 
IV,  xxxiii). 

1  I  assume  that  Gower  read  Ovid  before  he  read  Benoit,  but  the  argument 
works  equally  well  if  he  read  Benoit  first.     We  may  take  our  choice. 

2  ii,  2451  ff.     The  reference  to  Criseida  need  not  here  be  discussed,  for  no 
argument  of  any  sort  can  be  founded  upon  it.     It  is  quoted  merely  that  the 
reader  may  have  the  whole  passage  before  him. 


CHRYSEIS    IN    OVID.  17 

Of  course  this  passage  from  the  Confessio  is  not  quoted  to  prove 
Gower's  acquaintance  with  the  Heroides  when  he  wrote  the 
Mirour,  but  merely  to  bring  out  his  continued  interest  in  a  story 
which,  as  we  already  have  seen,  must  have  been  familiar  to  him 
early  in  his  career. 

Gower,  as  his  works  reveal  him  to  us,  was  a  scholar;  his  intellect 
was  of  the  schematic,  comparative,  and  classifying  order.  Con- 
fronted with  a  striking  blunder  in  Benoit, — the  ascription  of  the 
name  Briseida  to  Troilus'  amie — he  would  have  a  natural  inclination 
to  substitute  the  correct  name,  at  least  in  his  own  mind,  if  he 
knew  what  it  was.  Let  us  see  whether — independently  of  all 
acquaintance  with  the  Filostraio  or  with  Chaucer's  Troilus — he 
might  have  hit  upon  the  name  Creseide  as  a  good  substitute. 
Whence  could  he  have  derived  any  information  that  might  have 
suggested  this  particular  change  1 

The  answer  is  at  hand, — from  the  Remedla  Amor  is  itself 
(vv.  467-84)  :— 

Vidit  ut  Atrides — quid  enim  non  ille  videret, 

cuius  in  arbitrio  Graecia  tota  fuit  ? — 
Marte  suo  captam  Chrysrida  victor,  amabat. 

at  senior  stulte  flebat  ubique  pater. 
Quid  lacrimas,  odiose  senex?  bene  convenit  illis  : 

officio  natam  laedis,  inepte,  tuo. 
quam  postquam  reddi  Calehas,  ope  tutes  Achillis, 

iusserat,  et  patria  est  ilia  recepta  domo, 
"est"  ait  Atrides  "illius  proxima  forma, 

et,  si  prima  sinat  syllaba,  nomen  idem  : 
hanc  mihi,  si  sapiat,  per  se  concedat  Achilles  : 

si  minus,  imperiura  sentiet  ille  meum. 
quod  si  quis  vestrurn  factum  hoc  accusat,  Achivi, 

est  aliquid  valida  sceptra  tenere  manu." 

dixit  et  hanc  habuit  solacia  magna  prioris, 
et  posita  est  cura  prima  repulsa  nova. 

From  this  passage  Gower  learned  that  Chryseida 1  was  a  Trojan 
girl  (or  at  all  events  not  a  Greek) ;  that  her  aged  father  besought 
that  she  might  be  restored  to  him ;  that  she  herself  did  not  wish 
to  be  restored,  since  she  was  happy  in  her  love,  which  would  be 
interrupted  by  her  return,  and  that  she  finally  was  given  back 
through  the  influence  of  Calchas.  These  were  striking  points  of 
agreement  between  her  story  and  that  of  Troilus'  amie  in  Benoit. 
And  then  that  clever  line  about  just  changing  the  first  letter  of  the 
name  ("  et,  si  prima  sinat  syllaba,  nomen  idem"  )!  Such  a  verbal 

1  I  purposely  use  the  accusative,  which  is  the  only  form  that  occurs  in  the 
Kemedia. 

DATE    OF    C.   T.  0 


18  CREISBIDE    IN    GOWEB. 

trick  was  fascinating  to  a  man  like  Gower,  whose  turn  of  mind 
appears  in  the  transparent  riddle  in  which  he  wrapped  up  his  own 
name  in  the  Vox  Clamantis.1  He  had  but  to  change  a  single 
letter, — to  substitute  Criseida  for  Briseida, — and  he  would  have 
released  Achilles'  love  from  all  entanglement  with  the  quite 
independent  story  of  Troilus. 

Of  course  it  was  as  plain  to  Gower  as  it  is  to  us  that  by 
substituting  Creseide  2  for  Briseida  he  was  getting  rid  of  one  error 
by  running  into  another.  For  he  knew  perfectly  well,  from  the 
Ovidian  passage,  that  Criseida  was  Agamemnon's  captive,  Chryses' 
daughter.3  But  one  cannot  have  everything.  Unless  he  wished 
to  invent  a  name  outright, — which  would  hardly  have  occurred  to 
him,  especially  in  so  venerable  a  matter  as  the  Tale  of  Troy, — he 
had  to  choose  between  two  alternatives  : — admit  the  existence  of 
two  Chryseidas  or  of  two  Briseidas,  To  us,  perhaps,  one  alternative 
seems  as  bad  as  the  other,  but  not  so  in  the  eyes  of  Gower  and 
his  contemporaries.  For  Briseida  had,  to  an  Ovidian  like  him, 
a  strong  prescriptive  right  to  her  name  and  her  personality :  she 
was  the  heroine  who  had  written  a  famous  letter  to  her  lover 
Achilles.  Agamemnon's  Chryseida,  on  the  other  hand,  enjoyed 
no  such  distinction,  and  besides,  the  history  of  Chryseida  was  in 
several  respects  parallel — as  Briseida's  was  not — to  the  experiences 
of  Troilus'  amie.  The  contradiction  or  confusion  involved  in 
substituting  Criseide  for  Briseida  in  the  tale  of  Troilus  was,  then, 
appreciably  less  than  that  involved  in  allowing  Briseida  to  retain 
the  rdle  to  which  Benoit  had  assigned  her.  And  so,  we  may 
reasonably  conjecture,  Gower  made  the  change,  and  wrote  of  "  la 
geste  de  Troylus  and  de  la  belle  Creseide."  Boccaccio,  we  should 
remember,  made  the  same  change  in  the  Filostrato  for  similar 
reasons,4  preferring  the  smaller  or  less  noticeable  inconsistency 

1  Book  i,  Prologue,  vv.  19-24  : 

Scilbentis  nomen  si  queras,  ecce  loquela 
Sub  tribus  implicita  versibus  inde  latet.  . 

Primes  sume  pedes  6?0defredi  desque  lohanni, 
Pilucipiumque  sui  JFallia  iungat  eis  : 

ler  caput  amittens  det  cetera  membra,  que  tali 
Carmine  compositi  nominis  ordo  patet. 

2  The  e  in  Creseide  is  a  trivial  variation. 

3  Whose  story,  under  the  name  of  Astynome  (Astronomen,  Astrinomeri),  he 
knew  also  from  Benoit,  vv.  26747  if. 

4  It  will  not  do  to  object  that  Boccaccio  was  a  much  better  scholar  than 
Gower, — for  that  argument  would  cut  both  ways.     Besides,  within  the  limits 
which  confine  our  question,  Gower  was  as  learned  as  Boccaccio,— he  knew 
Ovid  and  he  knew  Benoit. 


CRESEIDE    IN    GOWER.  19 

to  the  greater,1  and  Chaucer  had  no  hesitation  in  following  his 
example. 

That  Gower,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  did  not  shrink  from  admitting 
the  existence  of  two  Cressids,  is  shown  by  a  curious  piece  of 
evidence.  After  he  had  thoroughly  committed  himself  to  Creseide 
as  the  name  of  Troilus'  amie, — in  the  Mirour,  in  the  Vox 
Clamantis?  and  in  Book  ii  of  the  Confessio  Amantis* — he  did 
not  hesitate  to  tell,  in  Book  v  of  the  Confessio^  how  King 
Agamemnon,  in  taking  the  city  of  "  Lesbon,"  found  there  a  fair 
maiden  called  "  Criseide,  douhter  of  Crisis,"  priest  of  Phoebus; 
how  he  carried  her  to  Troy  as  his  mistress ;  how  Phoebus  punished 
the  sacrilege  with  a  pestilence ;  and  how  the  maiden  was  sent 
home  to  her  father.  This  reproduces,  with  slight  variations,  a 
considerable  part  of  the  tale  of  Astynome,  Chryses'  daughter,  as 
told  by  Benoit.5  That  GoAver  saw  fit  to  repeat  it  in  the  Confessio 

1  In  the  Filocolo,  lie  gives  Briseida  her  rightful  position,  on  the  basis  of 
Ovid's  third  Epistle.     Florio,  who  had  been  a  victim  of  jealousy,  believed, 
when  he  read  Biancofiore's  letter,  that  she  was  sincere  in  her  written  protesta- 
tions that  she  loved   none  but  him.     But  he  soon  began  to  doubt  again, 
"  e  a  dire  fra  se  :   '  Fermamente  ella  m'inganna,  e  quello  ch'ella  mi  scrive  non 
per  amore,  ma  per  paura  lo  scrive.     Briseida  lusingava  il  grande  imperadore 
de'  Greci,  e  disiderava  Achille ' "  (bk.   iii,    Opere  Volgari,   VII,  278).     Cf. 
Ameto  (Opere    Volgari,   XV,  136):    "Ma  se  tu  non  meno  savia  che   bella 
sarai,  tu  seguiterai  gli  esemple  della  bellissima  Elena,  abbandonante  le  gia 
biancheggianti   tempie    di  Menelao    per  le   dorate    di    Paride,    la   qual  cosa 
Briseida  avrebbe  fatta,  se  Achille  1'avesse  voluta  ricevere."     In  cap.  24  of 
the    Amoroso,    Visione   (Opere    Volgari,  XIV,    97-98)   Boccaccio  introduces 
Achilles  and    Briseida   and   brings  in  a  part  of  the   third   epistle   of  the 
Heroides. 

Greif  supposes  that  it  was  Boccaccio's  acquaintance  with  Homer  which  led 
him  to  change  Briseida  to  Griseida  in  the  Filostrato  (Die  mittelalterlichen 
Bearbeitungcn  der  Trojanersage,  p.  69).  But  this  can  hardly  be,  for  Boccaccio 
did  not  make  the  acquaintance  of  Leontius  Pilatus,  his  Homeric  instructor, 
before  1360  (Fracassetti,  note  to  Petrarch,  Epist.  Fam.,  xviii,  2,  Lettere 
di  Francesco  Petrarca  delle  Cose  Familiari  volgarizzate,  IV,  1866,  95  if.  ; 
Hortis,  Studj  sulle  Opere  Latine  del  Boccaccio,  p.  21,  note  2),  long  after  the 
Filostrato  was  published.  His  perception  of  Benoit's  error  was  due  rather  to 
his  familiarity  with  Ovid  (cf.  the  conclusions  at  which  Mr.  Wilkins  has 
arrived  in  a  paper  published  while  the  present  essay  was  in  the  printer's 
hands  :  Modern  Language  Notes,  XXIV,  66-67,  reprinted  in  Boccaccio  Studies, 
Baltimore,  1909,  pp.  55  ff.). 

2  vi,  1325-8  : 

Mortuus  est  Troilus  constanter  amore  fidelis, 
lamque  lasonis  amor  nescit  habere  fidem  : 

Solo  contenta  moritur  mine  fida  Medea, 
Fictaque  Crisaida  gaudet  amare  duos. 

8  ii,  2456-8.  4  v,  6433-75. 

5  On  this  story  in  Gower,  Mr.  Macaulay  (note  to  v,  6435  ff.)  remarks: 
"  This  shows  more  knowledge  than  could  have  been  got  from  the  Roman  de 
Troie.  The  story  is  told  by  Hyginus,  Fab.  121,  but  not  exactly  as  ^e  have 
it  here."  In  writing  these  comments,  the  learned  and  in  ev  j  yay  praise- 


20  CRESEIDE    IN    GOWER. 

after  Chaucer's  Troilus  was  before  the  world,  shows  that  he  was 
not  disturbed  by  having  two  Cressidas  in  the  field.  That  was 
a  very  different  thing  in  his  eyes  from  ascribing  a  new  role  as 
Benoit  had  unwittingly  done,  to  the  famous  writer  of  the  third 
"Epistle  of  Ovide." 

It  is  now  plain  that  Gower's  use  of  the  name  Creseide  in  the 
Mirour,  in  1377,  by  no  means  demonstrates  that  Chaucer's  Troilus 
had  already  been  published,  or  even  that  it  had  been  thought  of. 
"We  have  arrived  at  another  explanation  which,  though  it  cannot 
be  proved, — any  more  than  Mr.  Tatlock's  hypothesis  can  be 
proved, — is  at  all  events  natural  and  probable  enough.  The  works 
of  which  it  implies  the  use  on  Gower's  part  were  well  known  to 
him;  Benoit  and  Ovid,  indeed,  were  two  of  his  favorite  authors. 
He  had  all  the  materials  at  hand  and  in  his  head.  Gower  was 
interested  in  Benoit,  he  was  interested  in  Ovid,  and  he  was 
interested  in  stories.  To  compare  and  rectify,  under  the  circum- 
stances, was  an  easy  and  obvious  thing.  Let  us  see  what  he  did 
with  the  Jason  tale  in  the  fifth  book  of  Confessio  Amantis,  for  it 
is  more  satisfactory  to  observe  what  a  writer's  ways  actually  were 
than  to  guess  what  they  may  have  been. 

The  story  of  Jason,  in  the  Confessio  is — beyond  question — 
made  up  as  follows  :— J  (1)  vv.  3247-3930,  from  Benoit.  freely 
treated,  with  additions  and  changes  of  Gower's  own,  and  with 
possibly  some  'slight  influence  from  Guido  delle  Colonne ;  (2)  vv. 
3931-4173,  from  Ovid's  Metamorphoses,  vii,  159-293;  (3)  vv. 
4187-4222,  from  an  unknown  source,  with  some  use  of  Metamor- 
phoses, vii,  394-401 ;  (4)  vv.  4243-4361,  Phrixus  and  Helle,  from 


worthy  editor  of  Gower  has  overlooked  Benoit,  vv.  26747-907,  in  which  the 
whole  story  of  "  Astronomen  [Astynome],  fille  Crises  "  is  reported  in  detail  as 
given  by  Dictys  (see  the  outline,  p.  14,  above).  This,  I  think,  Gower 
followed,  with  some  recollection  of  the  Remedia  Amoris.  Doubtless  he 
wrote  from  memory,  and  this  (with  Ovidian  reminiscences)  would  account  for 
some  slight  variations  from  the  Roman  de  Troie.  Thus  in  Benoit  it  is 
Achilles,  not  Agamemnon,  who  captures  Crises'  daughter  ;  but  Ovid  (Rem. 
Am.,  469)  calls  her  "Marte  suo  [sc.  Agamemnonis]  captam  Chryseida." 
The  ascription  of  her  capture  to  Agamemnon  doubtless  led  Gower  to  speak  of 
her,  by  a  slip  of  the  mind,  as  taken  at  "Lemnon"  ;  he  was  probably  thinking 
of  the  capture  of  "Tenedon,"  a  castle  which  Benoit  represents  the  Greeks 
under  Agamemnon  as  reducing  and  plundering  on  their  way  to  the  war 
(vv.  5991  ff.  ;  cf.  Guido,  sig.  f  recto).  The  story  in  Hyginus  (Fdbulae,  121) 
does  not  resemble  Gower's  account  so  closely  as  Benoit's  does  (cf.  also 
Fabulae,  106). 

1  See  Mr.  Macaulay's  notes.     Cf.  Karl  Eichinger,  Die  Trojasage  als  Quelle 
fur  John  Gower's  Confessio  Amantis,  1900,  pp.  58  ff. 


THE   CHANGE    FROM   B   TO    (7.  21 

a  different  unknown  source.1  This  example  is  noted  not,  of 
course,  as  a  precise  parallel  to  Gower's  procedure  in  the  case  of 
Creseide,  bat  to  show  his  learning  and  his  manner  of  going  to 
work.  A  man  who  compiled  a  narrative  from  so  many  different 
authorities  was  assuredly  equal  to  the  feat  of  changing  Briseida  to 
Creseide  without  being  inspired  by  Chaucer's  poem. 

We  have,  then,  in  the  case  of  Gower  and  the  change  from  B  to 
(7,  a  motive,  the  means,  and  the  general  temper  and  habit  of 
mind, — and  we  have  the  result.  Our  explanation,  therefore,  is 
neither  over-subtle  nor  far-fetched,  and  it  interposes  an  effectual 
"barrier  to  the  hasty  inference  that  Gower  must  have  written  the 
chapter  on  Sompnolence  in  the  Mir  our  after  the  composition  or 
the  publication  of  Chaucer's  Troilus. 

There  is,  however,  still  another  way  in  which  one  may  reasonably 
account  for  Gower's  form  Creseide : — Chaucer  may  have  made  the 
change  from  B  to  G  himself,  under  the  influence  of  Boccaccio  and 
Ovid,  while  he  was  studying  the  Troilus  material,  and  may  have 
communicated  his  discovery  to  Gower.  This,  of  course,  would  not 
necessitate  the  publication  of  the  Troilus  before  1377,  or  even  its 
composition.  A  work  like  the  Troilus  is  not  written  at  a  sitting, 
nor  is  it  undertaken  without  some  previous  thought  and  special 
preparation.  This  theory  may  or  may  not  turn  out  to  be  more 
probable  than  that  which  we  have  already  discussed.  Let  us,  at  all 
events,  see  whether  it  is  reasonable  in  itself. 

;     Blanche,  Duchess  of  Lancaster,  died  September  12,  J_3£il.2     The 
'  Book  of  the  Duchess  must    have  been  written    immediately,  and 

1  It  is  impossible  to  hold  that  Gower  found  the  whole  story  of  Jason  and 
the  Fleece  in  some  single  unknown  source  and  followed  that,  for  the  verbal 
resemblances  to  Benoit  in  the  first  division  of  the  tale,  and  to  Ovid  in  the 
second  division,  prove  beyond  a  doubt  that  lie  had  both  those  authors  before 
him.     But  neither  of  them  afforded  him  the  materials  for  the  third  division, 
nor  yet  for  the  story  of  Phrixus  and   Helle,   which  he  appends  in  close 
connection  with   that   of  Jason,    putting  it  into  the   mouth  of  Genius  in 
response  to  the  Lover's  request  for  an   explanation  how  the  Fleece  got  to 
Colchos  (v,  4230-37).     On  Jason  and  Creuaa,  see  Boccaccio,  De  Genealogia 
Deorum,  xiii,  '26  (fol.  98  recto)  and  xiii,  64  (fols.  99  verso — 100  recto).     In 
the  tale  of  Phrixus  and  Helle,  Gower  is  fairly  close  to  the  outline  given  by 
Boccaccio  (xiii,  67-68,  fol.   100).     Ovid  refers  to   the   Phrixus  tale  (Her., 
xvii,  139-44  ;  xviii,  123  ff.  ;    Ars.  Am.,  iii,   175-6),  but  nowhere  tells  it. 
On  Gower's  relation  to    Ovid,  one    may  compare    E.    Stollreither,  Quellen- 
JVachweise  zu  John  Gower's  Confessio  Aman/is,  1901,  pp.  32  ff.     Stollreith^r's 
comments  on  Gower  and  Hyginus  are  unconvincing.      He  says,  for  example, 
that  Gower's  account  of  Akestis  (Confcssio,  \ii,  1917-34)  is  "  nichts  auderes 
als  eine  weitschweifige  Wiedergabe  der  51.  Fabel  Hygins  "  (p.   47),  which  is 
really  an  absurd  proposition. 

2  See  the  evidence  in  Englische  Studien,  XIII,  19,  notes,  3,  5. 


22  CHAUCER   AND    BENO1T. 

cannot  be  later  than  the  early  part  of  1370.  This  is  one  of  the  two 
or  three  indisputable  dates  in  the  literary  chronology  of  Chaucer. 
Now  when  Chaucer  wrote  the  Book  of  the  Duchess,  he  -was 
undoubtedly  familiar  with  what  he  calls  "al  the  storie  of  Troye."  l 
He  refers  casually  to  Cassandra's  lament  over  "the  destruccioun 
of  Troye  and  of  Ilioun," 2  and  to  Antenor,  "  the  traytour  that 
betraysed  Troye."  3  He  tells  how  Achilles,  in  revenge  for  Hector's 
death,  was  slain  in  a  temple — he  and  Antilogus — "for  love  of 
Polixena."4  These  references  and  allusions  make  it  practically 
certain  that  Chaucer  was  well  acquainted  with  the  Roman  de  Troie 
before  he  went  to  Italy,5  and  we  are  therefore  forced  to  infer  that 
his  introduction  to  the.  story  of  Troilus  came,  in  the  first  instance, 
through  Benoit.  When,  therefore,  he  utilized  the  Roman  de  Troie 
in  the  Troilus — after  he  had  come  into  possession  of  the  Filostrato 
— he  was  merely  reverting  to  a  book  that  he  had  known  for  years.6 

1  V.  326. 

2  Vv.  1246-9.     See  note  5,  below.     Observe  also  the  names  Edor,  Priamus, 
Achilles,  Lamedon,  Medea,  lason,  Paris,  Eleyne  and  Laryne  (vv.  328-31),  all 
of  which  (except  the  last)  are  of  course  in  Bonoit  (for  Lavinv,  see  Roman  de 
la  Rose,  ed.  Michel,  II,  3.21).  3  Vv.  1119-20. 

4  Vv.  1065-71.  Cf.  Benoit,  vv.  22101  ff.,  especially  vv.  22241-50  ;  Guido, 
sig.  1  3  verso — 1  4  recto.  The  texts  of  Chaucer  have  Antilegius,  but  Anti- 
logus (  =  Antilochus),  is  in  both  Benoit  (var.  Antilocus)  and  Guido,  and  it 
improves  the  metre.  Skeat  adopts  it  as  an  emendation  (VI,  360,  under 
Antilegius}. 

6  For  the  death  of  Achilles,  Chaucer  refers  to  "Dares  Frigius  "  (v.  1070), 
but  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  he  knew  Dares  at  first  hand.  Some 
MSS.  of  Benoit  mention  Dares  here  ("  S'ai  en  1'escrit  Daires  trove,"  v.  22248 
Joly  ;  cf.  Chaucer's  "  And  so  seyth  Dares  Frigius  "),  but  Guido  does  not  (sig. 
1  3  verso — 1  4  2  recto).  So  far  as  I  know,  however,  the  form  Dares  Frigius 
(Plirygius)  does  not  occur  in  Benoit,  who  calls  this  author  Dares,  Daires,  and 
Daire  (see  vv.  106,  5183,  5562,  8799,  12018,  12292,  14048,  23722,  etc.  :  for 
lists,  cf.  Joly,  I,  207,  note  1  ;  Greif,  Die  mittdalterliclien  Bearbeitungcn  der 
Trojanersage,  p.  15,  n.,  Ausgaben  und  Alhandlungen,  LXI),  whereas  Guido 
does  refer  to  "phiigium  daretem"  (Prologue,  sig.  a  recto,  col.  2).  Still  the 
name  was  well  known,  in  any  case.  Antenor  the  traitor  is  a  notable  character 
in  Dares  as  well  as  in  Benoit  and  Guido.  But  the  lamentation  of  Cassandra 
is  not  in  Dares  or  Dictys  at  all  ;  it  is  described  in  a  striking  passage  by 
Benoit  (vv.  26009-18),  from  whom  Guido  borrows  it  (sig.  m  4,  2  verso,  col. 
2).  Guido  says  merely,  "Cassandra  vero  quasi  demeris  elfecta  sola  fugit  et 
minerue  templum  intrauit  vbi  suorum  omnium  excidiurn  grauiter  lamenta- 
tur."  Virgil,  Aen.,  ii.  403-6  would  not  have  given  Chaucer  the  hint.  There 
is  a  prophetic  lament  of  Cassandra  in  Benoit,  vv.  10355-84,  in  which  both 
"Ylion"  and  Troy  are  mentioned  (cf.  <-uido,  sig.  h  3  verso,  where  Ilion  is 
not  specified).  This,  too,  is  in  neither  Dictys  nor  Dares.  Chaucer  may  have 
had  his  eye  on  it.  It  is  possible  that  Chaucer  drew  his  Trojan  material  in  the 
Book  of  the  Duchess  from  Guido  rather  than  from  Benoit,  but,  on  the  whole, 
Benoit  seems  more  likely,  and  the  question  is  of  no  real  consequence  to  us  at 
this  moment. 

6  For  Chaucer's  use  of  Benoit  in  the  Troilus,  see  especially  Dr.  Karl  Young's 
monograph,  The  Origin  and  Development  of  the  Story  of  Troilus  and  Criseyde, 
Chaucer  Society,  1908,  where  full  references  to  previous  studies  will  be  found. 


CHAUCER   AND    OVID.  23 

When  Chaucer  wrote  the  Book  of  the  Duchess  he  was  about 
thirty  years  old,  if  not  more.  Acquaintance  with  Ovid  might 
therefore  be  assumed  without  argument.1  But  there  is  some 
evidence.  The  Metamorphoses  is  utilized  ; 2  the  Remedia  Amoris 
is  mentioned.3  As  to  the  Heroides,  we  cannot  prove  that  Chaucer 
knew  it  at  this  time,4  but  there  is  nothing  against  such  a  view,  and 
even  if  he  did  not,  he  had  time  enough  to  read  it  before  his  Italian 
journey  of  1372-1373.  If  Chaucer,  when  he  wrote  the  Book  of 
the  Duchess — or  at  any  time  before  his  Italian  journey — was 
familiar  with  the  Heroides  and  the  .Remedia  Amoris  (or  with 
either  of  them),  he  knew  perfectly  well  that  Briseida  was  the 
captive  whom  Agamemnon  took  away  from  Achilles.  He  was  at 
least  as  quick-witted  as  we  are,  and  it  is  incredible  that  he,  as  well 
as  Gower,  should  have  failed  to  perceive  Benoit's  oversight  and  the 
consequent  inconsistency  in  which  the  French  poet  had  involved 
himself.  Still,  whether  Chaucer  had  made  this  observation  before 
he  read  the  Filostrato  is  a  point  of  no  importance  in  the  present 
discussion,  for  we  are  not  obliged  to  consider  what  he  thought 
about  the  matter  until  Boccaccio's  treatment  of  the  story  came 
under  his  eye.  Indeed,  we  have  more  leeway  than  that,  for 
anything  that  he  thought  or  observed  before  Gower  wrote  the 
Mir  our  passage  in  1377  is  usable  for  our  purposes. 

Now  we  cannot  doubt,  that,  if  Chaucer  brought  home  a  Filostrato 

1  Mr.  Tatlock  says  that  when  Chaucer  was  introduced  to  Italian  literature, 
"he  had  long  been  .  .  .  familiar  with  the  greatest  poets  of  the  Komans" 
(p.  18).     I  should  not  go  so  far  as  this,  but  no  doubt  he  read  Ovid  early. 

2  For  the  relations  of  the  Ceyx  and  Alcyone  passage  to  Ovid  and  Machaut, 
see  ten  Brink,   Chaucer :  Studien,  pp.  8-12  ;  Skeat's  note  on  v.   62.     For  a 
detail,  not  in  Machaut,  cf.  "brak  hir  mast"  (v.  71)  with  "frangitur  .  .  . 
arbor"  (Met.,  xi,  551). 

3  "The  remedies  of  Ovyde "  (v.  568). 

4  There  are  no  allusions  to  material  in  the  Heroides  that  are  not   such  as 
Chaucer  might  have  got  at  second  hand.    On  Dido  (vv.  732-4),  cf.  Roman  de 
la  Rose,  II,  80  ff.;  on  Penelope  (v.   1081),  cf.  Roman  de  Troie,  vv.  28821-34  ; 
on  Phyllis  (vv.  728-31),  cf.  Roman  de  la  Rose,  II,  80,  82.     See  Skeat's  note 
on  v.  726.     As  to  Phyllis,  use  of  the  Roman  de  la  Rose,  is  practically  certain. 
Professor  C.  G.  Child,  in  his  interesting  essay  on  Chaucer's  Legend  of  Good 
Women  and  Boccaccio's  De  Genralogia  Deorum  (Modern  Language  Notes,  XI, 
478-9,  cf.  X,  380),  remarking  that  Ovid  nowhere  says  in  so  many  words  that 
Phyllis  hanged  herself,  quotes  the  De  Genealogia  (xi,  25,  ed.  1511,  fol.   84 
verso)  as  the  source  of  Chaucer's  knowledge  on  this  point  in  the  Legend 
(v.  2485).     It  may  be  added  that  Boccaccio's  De  Casibus  supplies  the  same 
information  :   "  Phillis  amoris  Demophoontis  impaeiens  se  suspendit  "  (i.  18, 
ed.   1544,  p.  29).     But  Chaucer  got  a  plain  statement  of  Phyllis's  suicide 
from  the  Roman  de  la  Rose,  II,  82  ("qu'ele  se  pendi"  ;  "heng  herself," 
B.  Duch.,  v.  729),  years  before  he  could  have  known  Bocoaccio's  handbooks. 
However,  the  use  of  the  Roman  de  la  Rose  is  no  proof  that  Chaucer  did  not 
know  the  Heroides. 


24  CHAUCER    AND    GOWER. 

manuscript  in  1373,  he  Lad  read  the  poem  by  1375  or  1376.  And 
as  soon  as  he  reached  the  third  stanza  of  the  First  Book  he  en- 
countered the  name  Griseida.  The  eleventh  stanza  informed  him 
that  she  was  the  daughter  of  Calcas,  the  renegade  Trojan  priest, 
and  long  before  he  had  finished  the  First  Book  it  was,  of  course, 
evident  to  him  that  she  was  the  same  person  whom  Benoit  had 
celebrated  under  the  name  of  Briseida.  And  he  was  familiar  with 
Froissart's  Paradys  d' Amours,  which  he  had  used  in  the  Book  of 
the  Duchess1  and  was  to  use  again  in  the  Prologue  to  the  Legend.2 
A  man  like  Chaucer  could  hardly  overlook  the  story  of  Troilus  and 
Briseida  when  he  read  Benoit,  and,  even  if  it  had  made  little 
impression  on  him — as  is  hardly  conceivable — his  attention  would 
have  been  specially  called  to  it  by  the  very  conspicuous  position 
which  Froissart  assigns  to  Troilus  as  a  lover.  We  should  not 
forget,  in  passing,  that  when  Chaucer  came  to  write  his  own 
Troilus,  he  reverted  to  Benoit  for  more  than  a  few  passages.3  One 
of  the  first  things  that  struck  him  in  reading  the  Filostrato  was 
the  change  from  Briseida  to  Griseida  which  Boccaccio  had  made. 
He  had  never  seen  the  name  Griseida  before,  and  his  knowledge 
of  Italian  was  doubtless  insufficient  to  teach  him  that  6r  in  this 
position  is  a  good  phonological  representative  of  a  Latin  C',  but, 
in  any  case,  the  form  could  not  pass  unnoticed.  He  straightway 
perceived  (even  if  he  had  never  thought  of  such  a  thing  before) 
that  Benoit  had  made  a  mistake  in  assigning  to  Briseida  the  role 
of  Troilus'  amie.  The  third  epistle  of  the  Heroides  (Briseida  to 
Achilles}  and  the  well-known  passage  in  the  Remedia  Amor  is 
inevitably  occurred  to  him,  and  he  saw  at  once  that  Boccaccio  had 
adopted — with  a  slight  modification — the  name  Chryseida  to  avoid 
the  contradiction  in  which  Benoit  had  unwittingly  entangled 
himself.4  These  are  not  conjectures  :  they  are  things  that  must 
have  happened  unless  Chaucer  forgot  all  he  knew  whenever  he 
opened  a  book,  and  then  went  on  to  read  it  with  his  eyes  shut. 

'Now,  unless  we  are  to  believe  that  Chaucer  never  conversed  on 
literary   topics   with   his    friend    Gower — both   parties   confining 

1  Englische  Studien,  XXVI,  321  ff.  2  See  p.  10,  note  5,  above. 

3  Gower's  continual  use  of  Benoit,  from  the  beginning  of  his  career  to  the 
end,  justifies  us  in  believing  that  he  possessed  a  manuscript  of  the  Roman  de 
Troie.     It  is   quite   legitimate  to  conjecture  that  he  lent  it  to  his  friend 
Chaucer.    On  the  nature  of  Gower's  text  of  Benoit,  see  Hamilton,  Publications 
of  the  Modern  Language  Association,  XX,  179  ff. 

4  Here  the  argument  will  be  somewhat  simp'ified  if  we  adopt  Mr.  Wilkins'a 
view  that  Boccaccio  wrote  Criseida  not  Griseida  (see  p.  2,  note  1,  above). 


CHAUCEE   AND    GOWER.  25 

themselves  to  long-distance  messages  in  their  published  poems — 
we  may  feel  quite  safe  in  conjecturing  that  Gower  was  one  of  the 
first  persons  in  England  to  whom  he  talked  about  his  Italian 
discoveries.  And  he  could  not  by  any  possibility  have  talked 
with  Gower  about  this  Filostrato — this  new  and  highly  original 
version  of  a  story  already  well  known  to  both  of  them  in  Benoit's 
romance — without  commenting  on  the  name  Griseida.1  Gower, 
at  the  same  time,  or  soon  after,  is  engaged  in  writing  the  Mirour. 
The  romance  of  Benoit  is  in  his  mind,  as  we  have  already  seen. 
At  v.  3724  he  alludes  to  it,  at  v.  5515  he  alludes  to  it  again. 
Between  these  two  allusions,  atv.  5245,  comes  theTroilus  passage.  \ 
On  the  basis  of  his  conversation  with  Chaucer,  he  alters  Benoit's  v 
Briseida  to  Creseide — and  there  you  have  it !  2. 

If  confirmation  is  needed  for  the  reasonableness  of  this 
hypothesis,  we  have  it  in  an  observation  of  Mr.  Tatlock's  own. 
He  has  noted  that  vv.  3831-4  of  the  Mirour  "cannot  be  inde- 
pendent of  Dante's  words  on  envy"  in-  Inferno,  xiii,  64-66,  and 
adds:  "We  can  hardly  avoid  believing  that  Chaucer  read  or 
repeated  the  passage  to  Gower."  3  We  observe,  with  interest,  that 
these  verses  in  the  Mirour  stand  about  100  lines  after  Gower's  first 
allusion  to  Benoit,  and  about  1400  lines  before  the  Troilus  passage. 
Let  us  arrange  some  of  the  significant  facts  in  a  tabular  form : — 

3724.       Gower  alludes  to  Benoit's  romance  (Jason). 

3831.       Gower  uses  a  Dante  passage  which  he  got  from  Chaucer. 

5254-5.  Gower  mentions  both  Troilus  and  Creseide. 

5520.       Gower  alludes   to    Benoit's   romance    again    (Goz  the 

physician). 

I  think  it  is  clear  enough  that — even  if  Gower  did  not,  according 
to  our  first  hypothesis,  write  Creseide  instead  of  Benoit's  Briseida 
of  his  own  motion, — he  may  very  well  have  done  so  after  talking 
the  Filostrato  over  with  Chaucer.4 

1  Such   a   conversation,    let   me   hasten   to    add,  was  not    "learned"   or 
"  pedantic,"  any  more  than  it  would  be  learned  or  pedantic  for  two  English 
literary  men  of  the  present  da*y  to  chat  about  the  Jatest  novel,  and,  in  the 
course  of  their  talk,  to  mention  Fielding  and  (say)  Balzac. 

2  There  is  no  evidence  that   Chaucer  and  Gower  ever  had  a  falling-out, 
except  Gower's  omission,  in  the  revised  Cortfessio,  of  the  passage  relating  to 
Chaucer,  and  that  is  no  evidence  at  all.     But  the  question  need  not  trouble 
us  on  this  occasion.     Chaucer  and  Gower  were  certainly  on  good  terms  at  the 
date  we  are  considering,  for  Chaucer  made  Gower  one  of  his  attorneys  when, 
in    1378,  he  left  England  for   Lombardy    (Life-Records,  No.    120,    p.    216  ; 
Skeat's  Chaucer,  I,  xxxii).  3  P.  221. 

4  Cf.  Lowes,  Publications  of  the  Modern  Lanyuatje  Association  of  America, 
XXIII,  305-6. 


26  "OBVIOUSNESS  AND  POPULARITY." 

Mr.  Tatlock  does  not  deny  that  Chaucer  may  have  talked  with 
Gower  about  the  Filostrato.  But  he  seems  to  think  that  no  mere 
conversation  could  have  resulted  in  Gower's  speaking  of  "  la  geste 
de  Troylus  et  de  la  belle  Creseide  "  in  this  passage.  "  I  do  not 
ask,"  he  continues,  "what  point  there  would  have  been  in  [Gower's] 
referring  to  [Boccaccio],  but  how  could  it  ever  have  occurred  to 
him,  even  if  he  had  heard  Chaucer  speak  of  the  poem,  to  make  in 
so  off-hand  a  manner  a  remark  so  unintelligible  1  Is  it  impertinent 
to  ask  whether  a  modern  preacher  would  rail  at  his  parishioners  for 
staying  at  home  on  Sunday  to  read  the  last  Sherlock  Holmes  story  or 
the  works  of  a  novelist  of  Paraguay  1  Obviousness  and  popularity 
are  necessarily  implied  in  Gower's  remark.  This  and  the  apparently 
rather  humble  station  of  Sompnolent  are  what  suggest  that  the 
poem  [which  ly  Sompnolent  heard  in  his  dream]  is  in  English." 

Now,  in  the  first  place,  we  must  note  that  "  Sompnolent"  is  not 
a  person  in  a  "rather  humble  station."  Indeed,  he  has  no  definite 
rank  at  all.  He  is  not  a  person,  anyway,  —  he  is  not  even 
"  Sompnolent,"  character  in  an  allegory.  He  is  "ly  Sompnolent," 
—  the  sleepy  man,  the  sluggard  of  the  Bible.  The  vice  of  somno- 
lence is  not  confined  by  social  barriers.  Gower  makes  this  plain 
enough,  if  we  read  the  whole  chapter.1  "  Sompnolence  lives  at 
ease,"  he  tells  us,  "when  he  can  sleep  without  opposition  on  a 
soft  couch  that  is  surrounded  by  curtains,  where  his  subordinate 
(soubgit)  or  his  servant  dare  not  wake  him.  .  .  .  When  he  has  once 
gone  to  bed,  there  is  a  valet  or  a  maid  trained  to  rub  him  gently  — 
hand  and  foot  and  back.  —  till  he  falls  asleep  ;  and  that  is  his 
customary  way  of  living.  His  chamberlain  will  lose  his  fees  if  the 
mattress  and  bedclothes  are  not  soft,  and  if  the  sheets  and  pillow 
are  not  sprinkled  with  rosewater."  All  this  applies,  of  course, 
only  to  the  sluggard  who  lives  in  luxury.  But  Gower  goes  on  to 
include  other  sluggards,  thus  showing  the  shifting  character  of  his 
allegorical  method.  "When  the  Sleepy  Man  is  a  wage-earner  and 
his  master  calls  him  in  the  morning,  'Come  now,  quick!'  what'  a 
pang  it  gives  him  to  leave  his  warm  bed,  and  how  he  grumbles  as, 
half-asleep,  he  puts  on  his  breeches  !  A  man  who  has  such  a  man- 
servant or  such  a  maid  may  well  wish  that  he  or  she  (cil  et  ceJIe) 
had  gone  away  and  would  never  come  back."  Then  follows  a 
l  remark,  unlimited  by  considerations  of  rank  or  occupation^: 


i  A\t  follows  is  not.a  full  or  literal  translation,  but  it  suffices  to  bring  out 
the  inar.oiuts. 


^OBVIOUSNESS   AND    POPULARITY."  27 

— "  The  Sleepy  Man  is  like  a  child, — he  doesn't  like  to  get  up, 
because  it  is  cold.  He  makes  a  pitiful  show  of  getting  up  long 
enough  to  warm  his  shirt ;  he  gets  half  out  of  bed,  and  then  lies 
down  again  and  hugs  the  pillow."  What  follows — and  contains  our 
passage — is  also  of  general  application  : — "  It  is  a  great  trial  to  the 
Sleepy  Man  when  he  has  to  rise  early  on  a  high  festival  and  go  to 
church.  He  doesn't  pray,  but  lays  his  head  down  on  the  stool, 

Et  dort,  et  songe  en  sa  cervelle  De  Trojlus  et  de  la  belle 

Qu'il  est  au  bout  de  la  tonelle,  Creseide,  et  ensi  se  concelle 

U  qu'il  oit  chanter  la  geste  A  dieu  d'y  faire  sa  requeste." 

We  are  not  dealing,  then,  with  anybody  in  particular;  the  social 
position  of  the  Sluggard  shifts  with  the  course  of  the  sermon. 
Nothing  can  be  inferred  from  his  social  position  as  to  the  story  that 
he  dreams  about,  for  he  has  no  definite  rank  in  the  world.  We 
are  reduced,  therefore,  to  more  general  considerations.  We  must 
ask  ourselves  whether  there  is  anything  in  Gower's  literary  methods 
— more  specifically,  in  the  method  of  that  pedantic  and  rambling 
moral  allegory  the  Mirour  de  TOmme — to  indicate  that  he  was 
likely  to  trouble  himself  much  about  the  obviousness  or  popularity 
of  an  allusion.  The  question  answers  itself. 

We  have  already  seen  that  Benoit  must  have  been  in  Gower's 
mind  when  he  wrote  the  passage  that  we  are  considering — what- 
ever else  he  may  or  may  not  have  been  thinking  of.  And  we  have 
also  observed  that  the  subject  of  which  the  Sleepy  Man  is  dreaming 
is  highly  appropriate.  Furthermore,  it  has  been  made  clear  that 
a  mention  of  Troilus  and  ^riseida  would  have  been  no  more 
surprising  in  Gower  than  a  mention  of  Troilus  at  the  head  of  a  list 
of  lovers  is  in  Froissart, — that  is,  not  surprising  at  all  in  a  poem 
written  in  French  and  addressed  to  the  court  and  the  gentry.  The 
only  thing  in  the  passage  that  can  conceivably  be  regarded  as  likely 
to  cause  any  difficulty  to  Gower's  readers,  then,  is  Creseide  instead 
of  Briseide.  In  other  words,  there  is  nothing  whatever  that  can 
be  urged  against  the  hypothesis  that  Gower's  change  of  B  to  C  may 
well  have  come  about  as  the  result  of  a  conversation  with  Chaucer 
except  the  idea  that  Gower  never  would  have  used  the  name 
Creseide  here  unless  it  had  already  been  familiar  to  his  readers. 
"  W'hat  readers  ? "  one  may  ask.  Had  the  Mirour  any  readers  in 
1377,  except  Chaucer  and  other  private  friends  1  Was  it  published 
serially  1  If  not,  since  its  completion  was  a  good  way  off, — perhaps, 
Mr.  Tatlock  thinks,  as  far  off  as  1381, — why  should  Gower  have 


28  WHY    C    INSTEAD    OF    B 1 

been  so  scrupulous  *?  This  inquiry  need  not  be  pressed,  for  there 
is  no  likelihood  that  Gower's  readers,  either  in  1377  or  in  1381, 
would  have  worried  over  Creseide  for  Briseide,1  or  that  any  such 
remote  contingency  would  have  given  him  a  moment's  concern  if 
he  found  occasion  to  think,  for  any  reason,  that  Creseide  was  the 
preferable  name.  Such  an  opinion  on  his  part — even  if  he  had 
never  come  to  entertain  it  without  help — might  very  probably  have 
resulted  from  half-an-hour's  talk  with  his  friend  Chaucer,  who  had 
just  come  home  from  Italy  with  some  highly  interesting  documents 
in  his  luggage.  In  this  hypothetical  but  really  inevitable  conversa- 
tion, let  it  be  Gower — if  one  chooses — who  furnished  the  Ovidian 
learning  and  who  actually  suggested  that  the  strange  form  Griseida  2 
which  Chaucer  called  to  his  attention  was  merely  Ovid's  Chryseida 
slightly  modified.  There  are  so  many  ways  in  which — when  Ovid 
and  Benoit  were  familiar  to  both  English  poets — the  change  from 
B  to  C  may  have  come  about,  that  we  cannot  be  precise — nor  does 
the  argument  require  it —  as  to  the  exact  course  of  events. 

In  all  this  there  is  not  the  slightest  indication  that  Chaucer  was 
at  work  on  his  own  Troilus  yet,  or  that  he  had  even  conceived  the 
idea  of  translating  or  adapting  the  Filostrato.  All  that  is  needed 
is  that  he  should  have  begun  to  read  Boccaccio's  poem  and  that  he 
should  have  talked  with  Gower.  Far  from  affording  us  a  date  for 
the  publication  of  the  Troilus,  the  Mirour  passage  does  not  even 
give  us  a  date  for  the  inception  or  the  planning  of  the  work. 

Let  us  now  take  account  of  stock.  The  Sleepy  Man  takes  a 
nap  in  church  and  dreams  that  he  hears  somebody  singing  "  the 
story  of  Troylus  and  the  fair  Creseide."  There  is  nothing  to 
indicate  that  the  Sluggard  is  a  person  of  low  degree  or  that  the 
song  he  hears  in  his  sleep  is  in  English.  The  word  geste  applies 
just  as  well  to  the  story  in  the  abstract  as  to  any  extant  concrete 
version  of  it.  Gower  knew  the  history  of  these  lovers  as  narrated 
by  Benoit,  and  he  had  Benoit's  romance  in  mind  when  he  wrote 

1  Mediaeval  readers  are  perforce  habituated  to  varieties  in  proper  names. 
Mars  and  Marte,  Alledo  and  Alete,  Polirene  and  Polyxenen,  Briscida  and 
Brcxseida,  Ceres  and  Cereres,   need  not  be  cited.     The  manuscripts  of  the 
Roman  de  Troie  afford  us  abundance  of  examples.     Thus  in  v.  6681  we  have, 
in  different  manuscripts,  Hupoz,  Hupo,  Hippos,  Leipos,  Empres  ;  in  the  same 
verse,  Cupesus,  Cupensus,  Cupesuc,  Ouspesus,  Citpresus,  Crupesus,  Adrastus  ; 
in  v.  6691,   Cisonie,  Sisonie,  Osome,   Tysonic,   Cyfonie,  Yfonie  ;  in  v.  6715, 
Pileus,  Calles,  and  Thereplcx ;  in  the  same  verse,  Acamiis,  Alcamus,  Calamus, 
Calcamus,   Arcasmus ;  in   v.  6773,   Hoetes,    Oes'.es,  and  Doetes;  in  v.   6832, 
Scrse"^  Perses,  and  Zercxes. 

2  See  p.  2,  note  1,  above. 


FOUR   POSSIBILITIES    AT    LEAST.  29 

the  passage,  whatever  else  he  may  have  been  thinking  of.  But 
Benoit  always  calls  the  lady  Briseida.  If  Gower  had  kept  this 
form,  none  of  us  would  have  heen  surprised  at  the  occurrence  of  the 
passage  in  the  Mirour.  Every  one  would  have  said,  without  fear 
of  contradiction,  that  ly  Sompnolent  heard — not  (to  he  sure)  Benoit's 
romance,  but  an  imaginary  song  deriving  its  materials  therefrom. 
Gower,  however,  wrote  Creseide,  not  Briseida.  Why  did  he  change 
B  to  C?  This  is  the  only  problem  involved  in  the  allusion. 

Mr.  Tatlock  holds  that  Gower's  change  of  B  to  G  implies  that 
Chaucer's  Troilus  had  already  been  published  and  had  become 
popular.  This  would  force  us  to  put  the  completion  of  the  Troilus 
in  1377  at  the  latest,  a  date  that  seems  to  most  scholars  a  good  deal 
too  early.  We  have  therefore  found  it  necessary  to  consider  the 
possibility  of  accounting  for  Gower's  change  of  a  letter  on  other 
grounds,  and  we  find  that  there  are  at  least  four  other  ways — all  of 
them  natural  and  easy — in  which  this  modification  of  the  name  may 
have  come  about : — 

(1)  Gower  saw  Benoit' s  error,  and  made  the  change  from  B  to  Q 
of  his  own  motion,  without  any  influence  from  either  Boccaccio  or 
Chaucer ; 

(2)  The  change  is  due  to  Chaucer,  who  was  led  to  perceive 
Benoit's  error  by  reading  the  Filostrato   and   communicated  his 
discovery  to  Gower ; 

(3)  Chaucer  told  Gower  of  the  Filostrato,  with  its  form  Griseida?- 
and  Gower,   who  was  very   familiar  with  Ovid,  was  led  by  this 
communication  to  perceive  Benoit's  error  and  so  made  the  change  ;/ 

(4)  The  change  was  made,  so  to  speak,  by  Gower  and  Chaucer 
jointly,  in  the  course  of  a  literary  conversation  in  which  Chaucer 
mentioned  the  Filostrato  and  the  different  forms  of  the  story  were  I 
discussed. 

None  of  these  four  explanations  implies  that  Chaucer  had  begun  I 
to  write  his  own  Troilus  or  had  even  planned  it.  Each  of  them 
accounts  for  all  the  phenomena  in  a  natural  manner,  without 
compelling  us  to  accept  an  improbably  early  date  for  so  mature  and 
competent  a  piece  of  work.  It  should  be  carefully  noted  that  the 
conditions  of  the  problem  do  not  require  us  to  accept  any  particular 
one  of  these  four  hypotheses  in  case  we  reject  Mr.  Tatlock's  theory. 
The  question  is  merely  :  What  are  the  chances  that  Mr.  Tatlock's 
single  explanation  is  correct  as  against  the  chances  that  some  one  of 

1  See  p.  2,  note  1,  above. 


30  USK   AND    THE    TROILUS. 

the  other  four — no  matter  which — accords  with  the  truth  ?  "  Davus 
sum,  non  Oedipus,"  and  I  am  quite  willing  to  leave  the  decision  to 
impartial  judges. 

But  is  there  not  evidence — quite  apart  from  the  passage  in  Gower 
• — that  makes  in  favor  of  as  early  a  date  as  1377  for  the  completion 
of  the  Troilus  ?  Mr.  Tatlock  thinks  there  is,  and,  though  it  is 
impossible  to  agree  with  him,  we  must  at  least  interrogate  his 
witnesses.  The  supposed  pieces  of  testimony  fall  under  three  heads. 

I.  Thomas  Usk  mentions  Chaucer's  Troilus  in  his  Testament  of 
Love  and  refers  expressly  to  the  discussion  of  free  will  in  Chaucer's 
Fourth  Book, — a  passage  which,  according  to  Mr.  Tatlock,  belongs 
to   the   second   version    of    Chaucer's    poem.1     The    date   of  the 
Testament  is  1387.     "We  find,  then,"  writes  Mr.  Tatlock,  "  that 
Chaucer's  revised  version  of  the  Troilus  was  known  to  Usk  in  1387. 
If,  as  Lowes  thinks,  the  first  version  was  not  finished  till  1385,  is 
not  this  rather  quick  work?     So  extensive  and  minute  a  revision 
of  a  poem  originally  so  finished  as  the  Troilus,  it  seems  to  me, 
implies  the  passage  of  a  number  of  years.     But  all  this  agrees 
perfectly  with  the  date  1377  for  the  original  completion  and  1380 
or  later  for  the  revision."  2     This  argument  surprises  me  a  little. 
I  have  spent  some  time  over  the  Troilus,  on  various  occasions,  and 
• — as  Mr.  Tatlock  indicates  in  a  very  generous  acknowledgment  in  his 
preface — have  studied  the  matter  of  the  two  versions  rather  carefully. 
The  revision,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  might  have  been  done  in  a  month 
or  two.    However,  since  we  are  not  here  concerned  with  Mr.  Lowes's 
date  of  1385,  and  since  even  the  change  of  that  date  to  1384 
would  allow  three  years  for  Chaucer's  polishing  hand,  we  may  grant 
all  that  Mr.  Tatlock  claims  under  this  head  without  its  affecting  at 
all  the  question  of  the  completion  of  the  Troilus  in  1377. 

II.  Lydgate's   references   to    the    Troilus   as    "translated"    in 
Chaucer's  "  youth  "  (Falls  of  Princes)  3  and  as  made  "  long  or  that 
he  deyde"    (Falls  of  Princes;*  Troy  Book**)  are  used  by  Mr. 
Tatlock  as  evidence  in  favor  of  his  early  date  for  the  Troilus. 

1  Troilus,  iv,  953-1078.     I  do  not  feel  quite  sure  that  the  free-will  passage 
came  into  the  Troilus  on  the  revision,  but  this  may  be  granted  so  far  as  the 
present  argument  is  concerned. 

2  Pp.  24-25. 

3  Prologue,  stanza  41  (Way land's  edition,  sig.  A.  ii  verso). 

4  Ibid. 

6  Book  ii,  chap.   15  (Marshe's  edition,   1555,  sig.  K.  ii  recto) ;  book  iii, 
chap.  25  (sig.  R.  ii  verso). 


LYDGATE    AND    THE    TROILUS.  31 

"  Fifteen  years,"  he  comments,  "  would  not  be  so  very  long  before 
he  died,  and  youth  in  the  fourteenth  century  certainly  did  not 
extend  to  the  middle  forties."  l  Now  "  fifteen  years  "  is  computed 
on  the  basis  of  Mr.  Lowes's  date,  1385,  for  which  (though  I  regard 
it  as  probable)  I  am  not  contending.  I  do  not  care  to  discuss  the 
precise  lapse  of  time  implied  in  a  Lydgatian  "long";  but  even 
fifteen  years  was  about  a  quarter  of  Chaucer's  whole  life.  Youth, 
it  is  quite  true,  did  not  extend  to  the  middle  forties  ;  but  neither 
did  it  extend  to  the  age  of  thirty-seven,  which  (even  if  Chaucer 
was  not  born  until  1340)  is  what  Mr.  Tatlock's  date  of  1377  would 
give  us.  Clearly,  then,  on  Mr.  Tatlock's  own  showing,  Lydgate's 
"  in  youth  "  is  worthless.  I  do  not  know  whether  Lydgate  "  knew 
Chaucer  personally,"  as  Mr.  Tatlock  thinks  distinctly  probable. 
I  do  know,  however,  that  he  used  the  phrase  "  I  have  heard  tell," 
at  the  end  of  his  Troy  Book,  in  describing  Chaucer's  gentleness  as 
a  critic, — 

My  maister  Chaucer,  that  founde  ful  many  spot, 
Hym  liste  not  pinche  nor  gruche  at  every  blot, 
Nor  meue  hym-silf  to  perturbe  his  reste, 
Ihaue  herde  tell,  but  seide  alweie  the  best[e].2 

The  fact  is,  we  students  of  Chaucer  are  always  calling  upon  good 
old  Dan  John  to  tell  us  things,  but  never  with  much  success.  One 
can  almost  hear  him  saying  reproachfully,  "  Why  hast  thou 
disquieted  me  to  bring  me  up  1 "  3 

III.  "  A  fairly  early  date  for  the  Troilus,"  Mr.  Tatlock  thinks, 
is  indicated  by  the  fact  that,  while  * '  the  present  Knight's  Tale  is 
connected  with  the  Troilus  on  the  one  hand  and  the  Legend  of 
Good  Women  on  the  other,  by  a  large  number"  of  repetitions  of 

1  P.  25. 

2  MS.  Cotton  Auer.  4,  fol.  153  (in  Five  Hundred  Years  of  Chaucer  Criticisms 
and  Allusions,  by  Miss  Spurgeon  and  Miss  Fox  (for  some  proof-slips  of  which 
I  am  indebted  to  Dr.  Furnivall). 

3  Mr.   Tatlock  regards  Lydgate's  list  of  Chaucer's  works  in  the  Falls  of 
Princes  as  "  roughly  but  rather  strikingly  chronological."     The  list  is  T.  C., 
Boeth.,  Astrolabe,  Ceyx,  B.D.,  R.R.,  P.F.,  Origen,  Book  of  the  Lion,  AneL, 
Mars,  L.G.  W.,  C.  T.,  Mdibeus,  Cl.  T.,  Monk's  T.,  lyrics.     The  roughness  of 
the  chronology  is  more  obvious  than  its  strikingness.     If  the  order  proves 
anything,  it  proves  that  the  Troilus  was  the  earliest  of  Chaucer's  works,  and 
very  likely  that  was  Lydgate's  opinion— hence  his  "in  youthe."     The  fact 
that  the  Troilus  stands  first  in  the  retraction  at  the  end  of  the  Parson's  Tale 
also  seems  significant  to  Mr.  Tatlock  (p.  25,  note  2).     But  th's  list,  too,  is 
not  chronological,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  it  should  be.     The  motive  for 
putting  the  Troilus  at  the  head  of  a  list  of  ' '  translacions  and  endytinges  of 
worldly  vanitees "  for  which  the  author  expresses  contrition  is  surely  plain 
enough. 


32  PARALLELS    BETWEEN    TROILUS   AND    LEGEND. 

phrases  or  lines,  there  is  an  almost  complete  "  absence  of  such 
parallels  between  the  Troilus  and  the  Legend"  which  is  "  very 
striking,  considering  their  frequent  parallels  to  other  poems."  * 
This  argument  is  simply  a  mistake.  Mr.  Tatlock  has  overlooked 
the  parallels  whose  absence  he  emphasizes.  His  list  of  such  resem- 
blances between  the  Knight's  Tale  and  the  Legend  foots  up  to 
nineteen,  that  of  resemblances  between  the  Knight's  Tale  and  the 
Troilus  to  twenty-one.2  Now  there  are  more  than  thirty  such 
parallels  between  the  Troilus  and  the  Legend.  3 

We  have  now  examined  all  the  evidence  which  Mr.  Tatlock 
adduces — apart  from  the  passage  in  Gower — in  favor  of  an  early 
date  for  the  Troilus.  Manifestly  it  amounts  to  nothing.  The 
passage  in  Gower  must  stand  on  its  own  le.^s.  Unless  it  be  re- 
garded— alone  and  unsupported — as  sufficient  to  settle  the  question, 
we  must  give  due  heed  to  the  maturity  which,  as  all  agree,  the 
Troilus  evinces,  and  must  assign  that  great  masterpiece  to  a  time 
considerably  later  than  1377. 

But  the  case  cannot  yet  be  closed.  For  it  may  still  seem  to  some 
readers  that  Mr.  Tatlock's  interpretation  of  the  passage  in  Gower 
is  enough  to  decide  the  controversy,  although  there  is  no  other 
evidence  of  any  kind  in  support  of  his  date.  We  must  therefore 
examine  the  records  of  Chaucer's  life  for  some  years,  beginning 
with  1372,  when  he  set  out  on  his  first  Italian  journey,  and  we 
must  give  particular  attention  to  the  presumable  nature  of  his 
studies  and  to  his  literary  activity  during  the  period  which,  accord- 
ing to  Mr.  Tatlock's  theory,  would  have  been  spent  in  getting 
materials  for  the  Troilus  and  in  its  actual  composition.  Whatever 
the  result  of  our  examination  may  be  as  to  the  date  of  the  Troilus, 

1  P.  19.  2  P.  77. 

3  Prol.  B.  48-49  ;  ii,  967-70.  Prol.  B.  69  ;.  ii,  13.  Prol.  B.  535-6  ;  ii, 
645-6.  710-11;  i,  64-65.  735;  ii,  537-9.  773-5;  iii,  129,  v,  1107-9. 
878  ;  iv,  1161.  930  ;  i,  141.  954  ;  i,  142.  1019  ;  i,  185.  1028  ;  v,  1062. 
1159;  i,  461-2.  1166;  i,  699.  1167;  ii,  1306.  1180-1;  ii,  320-21. 
1192  ;  ii,  1099  ;  cf.  ii,  1105.  1258  ;  i,  760.  1387  ;  i,  810.  1429  ;  i,  294. 
1554  ;  ii,  29-30.  1627  ;  i,  1010.  1662  ;  v,  1852.  1725  ;  ii,  123.  1773  ; 
iv,  600-1.  1797-8  ;  iii,  1191-2.  1852  ;  v,  796.  1863-4  ;  i,  90-91.  2025  ; 
ii,  1299.  2132;  iii,  999.  2208-9  ;  v,  1791.  2580;  iii,  617.  2604;  v,  212. 
2648  ;  iii,  1200.  2677  ;  ii,  947-9 ;  cf.  iii,  675-6.  2704-5 ;  iii,  786-8. 
It  would  be  easy  to  extend  the  list.  Some  of  my  parallels  are  striking, 
others  are  the  reverse  ;  but  they  average  quite  as  well  as  Mr.  Tatlock's,  and 
will  serve  as  a  more  than  sufficient  offset.  He  says,  of  his  own  lists,  "  Some 
of  these  parallels  are  small,  a  .few  are  due  to  Boccaccio  or  Le  Roman  de  la 
Rose,  or  are  proverbial,  and  one  or  two  are  (rather  rare)  idioms.  But  the 
important  thing  is  their  number,  which  is  far  greater  than  that  of  parallels 
between  any  others  of  Chaucer's  poems"  (p.  78). 


THE    FIRST    ITALIAN    JOURNEY.  33 

it  will  perhaps  throw  some  light  on  the  intellectual  biography  of 
the  poet. 

Chaucer's  first  Italian  journey  occupied  exactly  174  days  (Dec. 
1,  1372,  to  May  23,  1373),  from  the  hour  of  his  departure  from 
London  to  that  of  his  arrival  there  on  his  return.1  He  crossed  the 
Channel,  travelled  to  Genoa  on  horseback,  thence  to  Florence,  and 
returned  to  London  via  Genoa.2  There  is  no  likelihood  that  he 
picked  up  any  Italian  manuscripts  at  Genoa,  nor  can  we  suppose 
that  he  went  on  to  Florence  immediately  after  his  arrival,  for  the 
only  errand  mentioned  in  his  commission  is  to  negotiate  a  com- 
mercial treaty  with  the  Genoese.3  Many  of  his  174  days,  then 
must  have  passed  before  he  had  any  opportunity  to  acquire  copies 
of  Dante  or  Boccaccio.  We  must  also  reduce  the  total  still  further 
by  allowing  for  the  return  from  Florence  to  Genoa,  and  from  Genoa 
to  London ;  for  Chaucer  was  hardly  studying  Italian  manuscripts 
en  route.  Then,  too,  we  must  allow  a  reasonable  amount  of  time, 
while  Chaucer  was  in  Italy,  for  learning  the  ropes,  seeing  the 
sights,  getting  some  colloquial  knowledge  of  Italian,4  and  other 

1  Mather,  Modern  Language  Notes,  XI,  419  ff.  ;  Life-Records,  No.  72,  pp. 
183-4. 

2  These  details  are  safe  inferences  from  Chaucer's  account  of  expenses.    The 
actual  length  of  his  stay  in  Italy  has  been  variously  computed.     Dr.  Mather, 
to  whom  we  are  all  much  indebted  for  his  discoveries  in  this  affair,  makes 
it  two  or  three   months  (The  Nation,   N.Y.,    Oct.   8,    1896,   LXI1I,    269; 
Modern  Language  Notes,  XI,  423-4  ;   XII,   18-19).      Mr.    Tatlock  at    first 
accepted  this  estimate  ("  two  and  a  half  or  three  months,"  Modern  Philology, 
I,  321)  ;  in  his  later  treatise  (p.  157)  he  incr^as^s  it  slightly  ("certainly  less 
than  four  months"),  and  this  seems  a  safe  and  judicious  figure. 

3  Li f' -Records,  No.  68,  pp.  181-2.     Dr.    Mather  considers  the  possibility 
that  Chaucer  made  no  stay  at  Genoa  but  proceeded   to  Florence  at  once 
(Modern  Language  Notes,  XII,  5),   but  this  is  merely  in  order  to  allow  all 
reasonable  leeway  to  the  advocates  of  the  theory  that  Chaucer  met  Petrarch, — 
a  pleasing  fancy  that  he  effectually  disposes  of.     To  assume  that  Chaucer 
took  no  part  in  the  Genoese  business  would  be  unwarrantable.     We  do  not 
know  what  his  errand  in  Florence  was,  but  the  words  "  alant  vers  les  parties 
de    Jeene    et    de    Florence    par    acunes     noz    secrees    busoignes  "    (Life- 
Records,  No.  75,  p.  187)  show  that  it  is  not  safe  to  limit  the  application  of 
the  phrase  "in  secretis  negociis"  (No.  70,  p.  182)  to  the  Florentine  matter. 

4  There  is  no  proof  that  Chaucer  knew  Italian  before  he  went  to  Italy. 
Professor    Lounsbury   (Parlament    of  Foules,   p.    7)    and    Professor   Hales 
(Dictionary  of  National  Biography,  X,  160  ;    The  Bibliographer,  I,  37-39  ; 
Folia  Litteraria,  pp.  68-69)  argue  tentatively  in  favor  of  such  a  theory,  but 
the  general  opinion  is  the  other  way.     Mr.  Tatlock  seems  rather  inclined  to 
favor  their  view  in  his  article  in  Modern  Phdology  (I,  321)  ;    in  his  later 
.treatise  (p.  41,  n.  2),  he  says  merely  that  Professor  Hales  "argues,  but  un- 

convincingly,"  for  it.  He  also  drops  the  suggestion  that  Chaucer  may  have 
learned  something  en  route  from  "Johannes  de  Mari,  a  Genoese  citizen." 
Certainly,  as  his  works  show,  Chaucer  had  no  acquaintance  with  Italian 
literature  before  that  time,  and  any  lessons  that  he  may  have  got  from 
Johannes  on  the  road  were  not  in  reading,  and  not  in  the  dolce  stil  nuovo. 
DATE  OP  0.  T.  D 


34  CHAUCER'S  OCCUPATIONS  TO  JUNE,  1374. 

incidentals,  remembering  that  he  was  at  least  as  much  interested  in 
men  as  in  books.  Finally,  it  is  to  be  noted  that  Chaucer  visited 
Italy  on  the  king's  business,  and  not  for  the  sake  of  cultivating 
his  mind.  In  short,  if  we  do  not  regard  the  active  man  of  affairs 
— immersed  in  troublesome  diplomatic  negotiations  and  held  to  a 
strict  account  of  his  employments  by  the  home  government — in  the 
light  of  a  "travelling  fellow"  sent  abroad  to  become  a  specialist 
in  Italian  literature,  we  shall  be  forced  to  doubt  whether  he 
actually  read  both  the  Teseide  and  the  Filostrato  in  the  scanty 
leisure  of  his  first  Italian  journey.  When  he  arrived  in  London 
(May  23,  1373),  he  had  certain  Italian  manuscripts  among  his 
luggage  which  were  to  exert  a  momentous  influence  on  his  ideals 
and  methods,  and  incidentally  to  make  an  epoch  in  the  history 
of  literature.  That  was  a  good  deal ;  it  was  quite  enough.  Surely 
it  was  not  until  he  got  back  to  England  that  he  actually  began 
to  read  Italian  literature,  except,  perhaps,  in  the  most  casual 
hit-or-miss  fashion.1 

For  more  than  a  year  after  his  return,  Chaucer  had  no  public 
employment.  "Not  till  over  a  year  later,"  writes  Mr.  Tatlock, 
"June  8,  1374,  was  he  appointed  Comptroller  of  Customs,  and 
during  the  interim,  adorned  by  several  benefactions  and  payments 
from  the  king,  he  may  probably  have  enjoyed  much  well-earned 
leisure  at  court,  with  his  books  and  pen.  After  his  responsible 
mission  to  Italy,  he  would  surely  not  be  worked  very  hard  as 
Esquire  of  the  King's  Chamber."2  Thus  Mr.  Tatlock  counts  this 
interval  as  a  year  of  elegant  leisure.  I  read  the  records  differently. 
In  the  first  place,  Chaucer's  accounts  for  the  journey  showed  a 
balance  due  to  him  of  «£25,3  or  about  £400  in  modern  values,  but  the 
king  was  a  slow  paymaster.  The  writ  to  the  Exchequer  was  not 
issued  until  November  11,  1373, — about  six  months  after  Chaucer's 
arrival,4 — and  he  did  not  receive  the  money  until  the  next  February.5 
This  lingering  and  vexatious  business  of  getting  his  accounts 
settled  must  have  cost  him  much  time  and  tr'ouble.  Then  there 

1  Mr.   Tatlock  writes,  somewhat  unguardedly  :     "He   had  returned  from 
Italy  by  May  23,  1373,  after  an  absence  of  six  months,   during  which  he 
doubtless  read  much  Italian,  including  very  likely  the  Filostrato  and  Teseide. 
On  his  return,  having  once  learned  Italian,  is  it  not  natural  that  he  should 
plunge  with  zeal  into  the  study  of  Italian  literature  ? "  (p.    33).     It  seems 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  most  of  Chaucer's  efforts  in  the  way  of  acquiring 
Italian  during  his  stay  in  the  peninsula  were  directed  to  the  end  of  speaking 
and  understanding  the  colloquial  idiom. 

2  P.  33.  3  Life-Records,  No.  72,  p.  184.  *  No.  75,  p.  187. 
B  No.  78,  p.  189. 


NOT    AX    INTERVAL   OF    LEISURE.  35 

an  old  claim  against  him  for  £10  advanced  "  for  wages  and 
expenses"  by  the  king  in  1369,  "at  the  commencement  of  the 
war." l  This  required  adjustment,  and  Chaucer  was  excused  from 
accounting  for  it,  Sept.  29,  1373,  along  with  many  other  persons2 
who  were  similarly  held.  Of  course  this  does  not  mean  a  gift  on 
the  king's  part ;  it  is  merely  a  specimen  of  the  haphazard  fashion 
in  which  men  got  their  salaries  in  the  good  old  times.  Further, 
Chaucer's  wife's  annuity  was  badly  behindhand,  for,  on  July  6, 
1374,  he  received  the  arrears  for  two  years  and  a  half.3 

A  good  deal  of  Chaucer's  time  for  the  first  year  after  his  return 
to  England  must  have  been  consumed  in  seeking  some  permanent 
post  in  the  government  employ.  It  was  more  than  a  twelvemonth 
before  he  secured  the  Comptrollership  of  the  Customs.  The 
business  of  getting  an  office,  then  as  now,  was  scarcely  compatible 
with  the  enjoyment  of  learned  leisure  or  with  extensive  literary 
planning  and  performance.  Waiting  at  court  and  social  matters 
also  must  have  claimed  their  tribute.  The  duties  of  an  Esquire  of 
the  Chamber  are  too  well  known  to  need  repetition.4  Incidentally, 
Chaucer  was  house-hunting,  for  he  was  going  to  keep  house, 
apparently  for  the  first  time  since  his  marriage.  In  the  spring  of 
1374  he  probably  had  assurance  of  office,  for  on  May  10  he  took 
the  "  mansion  "  over  the  gate  of  Aldgate  on  a  life-lease,5  doubt- 
less after  the  usual  tedious  dickerings  and  formalities,  which 
would  not  be  lessened  by  the  consideration  that  he  was  commit- 
ting himself  to  a  life  tenancy.  On  June  8th,  he  was  appointed 
Comptroller,  and  on  June  12th,  he  took  the  oath.6 

The  upshot  of  the  matter  appears  to  be  that  the  thirteen  months 
from  Chaucer's  return  in  May,  1373,  to  his  appointment  in  June,' 
1374,  were  by  no  means  ah  interval  of  leisure.  If,  during  these 
months,  he  fomd  time  to  improve  his  knowledge  of  Italian — which 
cannot  have  been  either  accurate  or  extensive  on  his  return — and 
now  and  then  to  write  a  lyric  in  the  conventional  French  style,  he 
surely  did  all  that  could  be  expected  of  him. 

From  June,  1374,  to  the  end  of  1376,  Chaucer  was  in  daily 
attendance  at  the  receipt  of  custom.  The  labor  was  not  excessive, 
probably,  and  he  neither  repined  nor  complained.7  Still,  the  post 

1  No.  61,  pp.  175-6.  2  No.  74,  pp.  186-7.  3No.  84,  p.  192. 

4  See  King  Edward  IPs  Household  and   Wardrobe  Ordinances,  edited  by 
Furnivall  (Life- Records,  II). 

5  No.  80,  p.  190.  6  No.  82,  pp.  191-2. 
*  Of.  The  Nation,  N.Y.,  Oct.  25,  1894,  LIX,  309. 


36  CHAUCER'S  OCCUPATIONS  1374-76. 

was  no  sinecure.  We  know,  at  all  events,  that  he  was  busy  all 
clay  long,  and  that  his  only  leisure  for  study  and  writing  was  in 
the  evening.  The  responsibilities,  too,  were  pretty  heavy ;  the 
sums  accounted  for  between  February  26,  1374,  and  July  26, 1375, 
foot  up  nearly  £34,000 — a  great  deal  of  money  in  those  days.1 
After  a  while  Chaucer's  duties  of  course  fell  into  a  routine,  but 
they  were  not  «  routine  work  "  at  the  outset.  He  had  never  been 
in  the  customs  before.  Six  months  will  not  be  thought  an  excessive 
allowance  for  learning  the  business  and  settling  down  into  the 
jog-trot  of  a  comfortable  official  programme.  And  during  this 
same  half-year,  the  poet  had  also  another  kind  of  routine  to  settle 
into — for  he  had  just  gone  to  housekeeping,  doubtless  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life. 

This  brings  us  squarely  up  to  the  beginning  of  1375.  Let  us 
look,  for  a  moment,  at  the  other  end  of  our  limited  period. 
Gower's  Troilus  passage  was  written  by  1377. 2  By  what  time  in 
1377  ?  There  is  no  telling  for  certain.  Still,  we  have  no  reason 
to  assume — and  Mr.  Tatlock  does  not  assume — the  very  end  of  the 
year.  Indeed,  the  facts  that  the  passage  is  vv.  5245-56,  that 
v.  2142  must  have  been  written  before  June,  1377,  that  v.  18817 
may  be  as. early  as  1378,  and  that  v.  30000  was  penned  before  the 
disorders  of  138 1,3  make  the  middle  of  1377  seem  not  too  early 
for  the  Troilus  passage.  To  be  sale,  however,  let  us  say  that  it 
was  penned  when  the  year  was  two- thirds  gone.  At  that  time, 
according  to  Mr.  Tatlock's  view,  the  Troilus  had  already  been 
published  :  it  was  ' '  spreading  abroad  and  exciting  every  one's 
interest."4  The  allusion,  he  says,  implies  "obviousness  and 
popularity."  I  do  not  know  how  long  it  took  for  the  Troilus  to 
fulfil  these  conditions,  but  I  should  think  that — in  view  of  the 
slow  process  of  copying,  and  the  labor  of  "rubbing  and  scraping" 
to  ensure  correctness — say  three  months  must  have  elapsed  after 
Chaucer  had  laid  clown  his  pen  before,  ex  liypothesi,  the  time  would 
have  been  ripe  for  Gower's  allusion.  Add  these  three  months  to 
the  other  three,  and  subtract  the  six  from  December  31,  1377, 
and  we  have  the  middle  of  1377  for  the  latest  date  when,  on  the 
basis  of  Mr.  .Tatlock's  theory,  Chaucer  wrote  explicit. 

But  we  are  not  at  the  end  of  our  figuring.  The  first  half  of 
1377  must  be  relegated  to  the  limbo  of  impossible  seasons.  Between 

1  Life-Records,  No.  88,  pp.  194-5. 

2  I  am  accepting  Mr.  Tatlock's  date  (p.  225). 

3  I  still  follow  Mr.  Tatlock's  figures.  4  P.  33,  note  6. 


CHAUCER'S  OCCUPATIONS  IN  1377.  37 

December  23,  1376,  and  June  26,  1377,  Chaucer  was  thrice  sent 
abroad  on  the  king's  business.1  This  half-year,  then,  cannot  have 
been  spent  in  literary  composition.  It  is  evident,  therefore,  that 
if  Chaucer  finished  the  Troilus  as  early  as  the  middle  of  1377, 
he  must  have  finished  it  six  months  before.  In  other  words,  Mr. 
Tatlock's  theory  compels  us  to  put  the  completion  of  the  work,  at 
the  very  latest,  in  December,  1376. 

Now,  in  working  forward  from  the  date  of  Chaucer's  return 
from  Genoa  in  1373,  we  have  already  arrived  at  January,  1375,  as 
the  earliest  moment  at  which  he  can  be  thought  to  have  settled 
into  the  routine  of  his  custom-house  labors.2  The  actual  com- 
position of  the  Troilus,  then,  is  reduced  to  the  space  of  two  years. 
And  these  are  not  two  years  of  elegant  leisure.  During  the  whole 
of  them  Chaucer  was  continuously  employed  at  the  custom-house  ;  he 
was  forbidden  to  appoint  a  deputy,  and  he  was  required  to  keep 
his  accounts  with  his  own  hand.  Only  his  evenings  were  available 
for  study  and  writing.  Manifestly  the  time  is  too  short  for  the 
composition  of  so  extensive,  so  original,  and  so  highly  finished 
a  work  as  the  Troilus,  even  if  we  assume — as  we  cannot  possibly 
do — that  the  plan  of  the  poem  and  the  conception  of  the  characters 
were  framed  and  moulded  during  the  year  of  restless  practical 
activity  and  the  preceding  six  months  of  induction  into  the  novel 
duties  of  the  comptrollership.  Nor  can  we  imagine  that  Chaucer 
wrote  poetry  every  evening  and  all  the  evening  long.  Nobody  works 
in  that  way.  We  do  not  need  the  celebrated  passage  in  the  House 
of  Fame  to  teach  us  that  many  of  his  evenings  were  spent  in 
reading. 

Even  if  the  Troilus  were  nothing  but  a  translation  of  eight 
thousand  lines  of  Italian,  we  should  have  to  pronounce  such  leisure 
as  Chaucer  could  command  during  two  busy  years  decidedly 
insufficient.  But  it  is  something  very  different  from  that.  Mos 
of  it  is  original,  and  the  originality  is  of  a  high  order.  Further, 
if  we  study  the  sources  of  the  Troilus,  we  find  that  its  composition 
involved  not  only  the  use  of  the  Filostrato  and  the  Filocolo,  but 
that  the  poet  drew  also  from  Dante  and  Petrarch  and  that  he 
reverted  to  both  Benoit  and  Guido  delle  Colonne,  to  say  nothing 
of  his  employment  of  Ovid  and  Statius  and  Boethius.  Some  of 
these  authors  are  but  slightly  utilized,  but  others  are  drawn  upon 
abundantly.  Take  only  the  Trojan  materials.  Before  he  began  to 
1  Life-Records,  Nos.  98-106,  pp.  201-6.  2  See  p.  36,  above. 


CHAUCER'S  FRENCH  PERIOD. 

write,  as  well  as  during  the  progress  of  the  poem,  it  is  evident  that 
Chaucer  renewed  his  acquaintance  with  the  older  authorities — 
Benoit  and  Guido — and  that  he  did  this  with  the  definite  purpose 
of  composing  a  new  work.  As  for  the  Filostrato,  he  had  mastered 
that,  as  well  as  the  Filocolo — and  had  recognized  its  possibilities  as 
the  foundation  for  a  great  English  poem.  I  have  no  wish  to  under- 
estimate his  obligations  to  Boccaccio.  He  owed  him  not  only 
matter,  but  culture.  Before  he  began  the  Troilus,  then,  he  had 
not  only  learned  to  read  Italian  readily — far  more  readily  than  he 
could  have  learned  it  in  the  intervals  of  diplomatic  business  in 
a  short  visit  to  Italy — he  had  also  immersed  himself  in  Italian 
poetry.  Long  preparation  of  every  kind  was  needed  before  the 
first  stanza  of  the  Troilus  was  written.  When  did  Chaucer  make 
this  preparation?  While  he  was  getting  his  accounts  adjusted, 
waiting  for  months  to  procure  a  warrant  for  payment,  dancing 
attendance  on  the  Exchequer  for  other  months  in  a  long  series  of 
efforts  to  get  his  warrant  cashed,  trying  to  collect  the  arrears  of  his 
wife's  annuity,  waiting  at  court,  leaving  no  stone  unturned  to  get 
an  office  commensurate  with  his  deserts,  hunting  up  a  house  and 
hiring  it  on  a  life-lease,  setting  up  housekeeping,  learning  the  novel 
duties  of  his  highly  responsible  comptrollership  and  reducing  them 
to  a  routine  1  I  can  hardly  believe  it,  unless  on  the  old  principle 
of  "  credo  quia  impossible,"  and,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  the  change 
from  B  to  C  in  the  name  of  a  Trojan  beauty  does  not  justify  me  in 
abandoning  my  reason  and  having  recourse  to  an  act  of  faith. 

But  we  are  not  confined  to  such  considerations  as  these.  There 
are  other  reasons  for  rejecting  so  early  a  date  as  1377  for  the 
completion  of  the  Troilus.  What  they  are  becomes  evident  as 
soon  as  we  inquire  whether  there  are  no  works  of  Chaucer's  which 
certainly  followed  his  return  from  Italy  and  are  likely  to  have 
preceded  this  masterpiece.  Before  specify  ing  them,  however,  let  us 
see  what  kind  of  works  we  should  expect  them  to  be. 

Since  the  appearance  of  ten  Brink's  distinguished  Sttidien  in 
1870,  it  has  been  customary  to  regard  Chaucer's  return  from  Italy, 
in  1373,  as  marking  the  boundary  between  the  French  and  the 
Italian  Period  in  his  poetical  career.  That  the  Italian  journey 
marks  a  significant  date  cannot  be  questioned.  When  Chaucer  set 
out  for  Genoa  in  1372  he  was  dominated  by  Erench  culture.  His 
wife,  who  came  of  a  French-speaking  family  and  had  been  attached 


THE    PERIOD    OF    TRANSITION.  39 

to  the  household  of  a  French-speaking  queen,  was  quite  as  much 
at  home  in  French  as  in  English.  Chaucer  himself  had  been  in 
France  more  than  once,  and  spoke  the  language  fluently  for  business 
and  social  purposes  ;  doubtless,  too,  he  could  use  it  readily  enough 
in  correspondence.  He  was  an  easy  and  practised  poet  in  the 
French  style.  He  was  well  acquainted  with  the  Roman  de  Troie 
and  with  some  of  the  works  of  Froissart  and  Guillaume  de 
Machaut ;  he  had  translated  the  Roman  de  la  Hose,  in  whole  or  in 
part ;  he  had  made  a  version  of  the  Dit  du  Lion;  he  had  written 
many  lyrics  in  French  measures  and  likewise  the  Book  of  the 
Duchess,  which  is  French  to  its  finger-tips.  We  are  quite  justified, 
therefore,  in  designating  as  the  French  Period  that  portion  of  his 
literary  career  which  came  before  1373. l  Is  it  accurate,  however, 
to  make  the  Italian  Period  begin  immediately  on  Chaucer's  return 
to  London  1  What  do  we  mean,  or  what  ought  we  to  mean,  by 
the  Italian  Period?  Manifestly,  that  stage  in  Chaucer's  career  in 
which  we  find  him  distinctly  under  the  influence  of  Boccaccio, 
evincing  those  qualities  which  were  fostered  and  developed  by  the 
study  of  Italian.2  This  period,  then,  should  begin  with  either  the 
Palamon  and  Arcite  or  the  Troilus — whichever  of  the  two  came 
first.  Now  Chaucer  was  not  a  new  creature  when  he  arrived  in 
London  after  four  months  of  diplomatic  service  in  Italy.  We 
must  distinguish  between  the  moment  when  he  first  came  into 
contact  with  Italian  literature  and  got  an  opportunity  to  study  it, 
and  the  moment,  somewhat  later,  when  the  rich  fruitage  of  that 
study  appeared  in  our  literature.  Between  the  end  of  the  French 
Period  and  the  beginning  of  the  Italian  Period  there  must  have 
been  what  we  may  call  a_  Period  o F  Tran si  ti on .  during  which 
Chaucer  was  reading  and  assimilating  Italian  poetry,  was  achieving 
emancipation  from  French  fashions  under  its  guidance,  was  "  find- 
ing himself,"  was  getting  ready  for  the  full  exercise  of  his  native 
power.  This  Period  of  Transition  will  fall  between  1373  and  the 
composition  of  the  Palamon,  or  of  the  Troilus,  as  the  case  may  be. 
If  Chaucer  wrote  anything  in  the  Transition  Period — and  he  could 

1  The  term  French  Period  is,  to  be  sure,  inexact,  for  Chaucer  came  early 
under  the  influence  of  Ovid  and  of  other  Latin  writers,  sacred  and  profane. 
However,  it  will  serve  well  enough,  if  it  is  understood  to  mean  that  period 
during  which  Chaucer  was  under  the  influence  not  of  French  writers  altogether, 
but  of  French  culture, — that  period  during  which  his  reading  (apart  from 
English)  was  in  French,  literature  and  in  such  Latin  books  as  Frenchmen 
studied  or  enjoyed. 

2  Cf.  Mather,  Modern  Language  Notes,  XI,  511. 


40  THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    CECILIA. 

no  more  refrain  from  writing  than  from  breathing — what  he 
produced,  apart  from  mere  practice  work,  would  naturally  be  in 
the  old  manner,  but  would  also  show  some  signs  of  his  new 
intellectual  and  artistic  interests.  And  such  signs  might  be 
expected  to  appear  in  the  shape  of  translated  or  adapted  passages 
from  the  Italian,  occurring  in  the  course  of  poems  still  prevailingly 
French  in  matter  and  style.  If  the  Chaucer  canon  affords  us  any 
works  that  fulfil  this  expectation,  we  shall  of  course  refer  them  to 
the  Transition  Period — from  1373  to  the  composition  of  the 
Palamon  or  the  Troilus — unless  there  is  positive  evidence  that 
they  belong  elsewhere. 

Before  we  look  for  such  poems,  however,  it  is  worth  while  to 
determine,  if  we  can,  what  kind  of  purple  patches  they  are  likely 
to  exhibit.  This  is  not  so  futile  an  inquiry  as  it  may  at  first  appear 
to  be.  Our  own  experience  and  observation  will  guide  us.  To 
most  men,  Italian  poetry  means  simply — Dante.  To  get  at  Dante 
as  soon  as  possible  is  the  aspiration  of  every  unguided  beginner. 
And  Chaucer  was  an  unguided  beginner.  If  he  bought  any  books 
at  Florence,  he  of  course  bought  the  Divine  Comedy  first.  And  to 
this  he  would  .first  turn  when,  on  his  return  to  England,  he  unpacked 
his  foreign  treasures.  The  seriousness  of  Dante  would  not  deter 
him  ;  for  Chaucer  was  mediaeval  enough — and  English  enough — 
to  like  solid  things.  Good  moral  and  religious  reading  never 
came  amiss  to  the  translator  of  Melibee  and  the  Parson's  Tale  and 
the  Wretched  Engendering  of  Mankind.  To  be  sure,  Dante's 
genius  and  his  own  were  very  different,  nor  was  the  great  Floren- 
tine to  exercise  any  such  influence  upon  him  as  was  exercised  by 
the  lighter  and  more  congenial  Boccaccio.  But  Chaucer  could  not 
tell  that.  To  Dante  he  would  first  turn,  and,  wre  may  be  equally 
sure,  he  would  try  his  hand  at  the  translation  of  particular  passages 
that  impressed  him.  We  may  expect,  then,  in  case  there  are  any 
poems  in  the  Chaucer  cnnon  that  meet  our  expectations  for  the 
Transition  Period,  that,  while  not  in  substance  or  in  manner 
prevailingly  Italian,  they  Avill  contain  passages  from  Dante. 

Now  three  such  poems  exist,  the  St.  Cecilia,  the  Monies  Tale, 
and  the  House  of  Fame.  Naturally,  therefore,  one  would  refer 
them  to  the  Period  of  Transition,  beginning  in  1373.  But  doctors 
disagree  about  their  dates.  Hence  we  must  examine  each  of  these 
poems  separately. 

The  Life  of  St.  Cecilia  need  not  long  detain  us.     It  is  a  typical 


41 

legend,  translated  from  the  Latin.  The  introductory  stanzas, 
whether  or  not  they  were  developed  from  a  hint  in  Jean  de 
Yignay,  are  easily  paralleled  from  French  authors.  Style,  metre, 
everything  about  the  poem  are  in  perfect  accord  with  assignment 
to  the  French  Period.  The  only  thing  Italian  is  the  invocation  to 
the  Virgin  from  Dante's  Paradiso.1  The  St.  Cecilia,  then,  fulfils 
*the  conditions,  and  may  be  assigned  to  the  Transition  Period. 
The  date  usually  adopted,  1373  or  1374,  seems  on  the  whole  a 
little  too  early.  But  no  one  will  think  of  putting  the  poem  later 
than  the  Troilus,  or  the  Palamon,  or  even  the  House  of  Fame.  It 
has  no  marked  excellences  beyond  that  ease  and  fluency  of  diction, 
that  metrical  skill,  and  that  purity  of  language  which  came  to 
Chaucer  almost  by  nature.  It  is  a  pleasing  poem,  no  doubt,  but 
not  too  good  for  Chaucer  at  thirty-three  or  thirty-five.  Nothing, 
there  fore,  prevents  us  from  putting  it  where  it  appears  to  belong, — 
in  the  Transition  Period. 

To  the  Transition  Period  I  should  also  assign  the  Tragedies — 
later  utilized  as  the  Monk's  Tale.  The  general  idea  of  the  Tragedies 
is  derived  from  Boccaccio's  De  Casibus,  which  is  also  drawn  upon 
for  material,  though  rather  slightly.  JTl^e  moral  of  Fortune's  De- 
ceit and  Malice,  which  gives  the  poem  what  structure  it  possesses, 
was  a  favorite  commonplace  of  the  French  poets.  The  Roman  de 
la  Rose  offers  a  long  discourse  thereon,2  which  is  of  particular 
interest  to  students  of  Chaucer,  inasmuch  as  it  is  utilized,  not  only 
in  the  Book  of  the  Duchess  B  and  the  House  of  Fame?  but,  very 
strikingly,  in  the  Tragedies  also.  After  describing  the  actions  of  . 
Fortune,  Jean  de  Meun  makes  Eeason  remark,  "  Mains  essamples  V 
en  puis  trover."  5  Chaucer,  it  will  be  remembered,  in  the  proem  to 
the  Tragedies,  bids  his  hearers  "  Be  war  by  thise  ensamples  trewe 
and  olde."  Then,  in  the  Roman  de  la  Rose,  Reason  tells  the  stories 
of  Seneca,  ISTero,  and  Croesus — all  of  which  are  used  by  Chaucer  6 — 
and  adds  : — 

Et  se  ces  prneves  rien  ne  prises, 

D'anciennes  istoires  prises, 

Tu  les  as  de  ton  tens  noveles,  etc.' 

1  There  is  no  reason  for  regarding  the  prayer  as  a  later  insertion.     Its  con- 
nection is  perfect,  and  if  it  is  thought  to  be  better  than  the  rest  of  the  poem, 
the  superiority  is  at  once  intelligible  when  one  remembers  whom  Chaucer  is 
following. 

2  Ed.  Michel,  I,  195  ff.         3  For  the  Game  of  Chess  (vv.  617  ff.). 

4  See  Sypherd,/S7«^ies  in  Chaucer's  House  of  Fame,  Chaucer  Society   1907, 
pp.  118  if. 

5  I,  206.  6  Seneca  in  the  section  on  Nero.  7  I,  219. 


42  THE  MONK'S  TALE. 

Accordingly,  Eeason  proceeds  to  give  a  number  of  Modern  In- 
stances. Thus  in  spirit,  and  to  some  extent  in  plan,  the  Tragedies 
accords  perfectly  with  Chaucer's  French  Period.1 

The  Ugolino  chapter,  however,  is  from  Dante,  and  there  is  no 
reason  to  regard  it  as  later  than  the  rest  of  the  poem.2  We  have 
the  conditions  of  the  Transition  Period  fulfilled. 

I  have  said  that  the  moral  of  Fortune's  Deceit  and  Malice  gives 
the  Tragedies  what  structural  unity  it  possesses.  This  is  greater 
than  is  commonly  supposed.  The  work  has  not  only  a  formal 

In  taking  Professor  Lounsbury  to  task  for  calling  the  Monk's  Tale  a 
parody,  Mr.  Tatlook  (p.  167)  declares,  with  great  emphasis,  that  "the  genre 
represented"  therein  "was  wholly  the  creation  of  hoccaccio,  both  in  con- 
ception and  form,  though  hints  are  of  course  traceable  to  other  mediaeval 
works,"  and  he  goes  on  to  refer  to  "Chaucer's  procedure  in  introducing  the 
species  "  into  England.  Certainly,  the  Monk's  Tale  is  no  parody,  but  were 
the  tragedies  that  compose  it  so  great  a  novelty  ?  Boccaccio's  originality  in 
the  De  Casibus  lay  not  in  writing  "tragedies,"  for,  as  everybody  knows, 
tragoedia  was  a  technical  term  for  such  pieces  long  before  his  day.  The 
Monk's  definition  of  tragedy  is  from  Boethius,  and  so  is  the  remark  at  the 
end  of  the  poem  (vv.  3951  :  cf.  Skeat's  note,  and  Cloetta,  Komodie  und  Tra- 
godie  im  Mittelalter,  pp.  41-43).  Indeed,  to  write  tragedies  was  a  customary 
rhetorical  exercise.  Johannes  de  Garlandia,  for  instance,  describes  this  kind 
of  composition  in  his  Poetria  (thirteenth  century),  and  gives  a  specimen 
(Rockinger,  Briefsteller  und  Formelbilcher  des  eilften  Ms  vierzehnten  Jahrliun- 
derts,  in  Qudlen  und  Erdrterungen  zur  bayerischen  und  deutschen  Geschichte, 
IX,  503  ;  Haureau,  Notices  et  Extraits,  XXVII,  ii,  82  ;  Cloetta,  pp.  126-7  ; 
Kittredge,  Modern  Language  Notes,  VIII,  502-3).  Nor  did  Boccaccio's  origin- 
ality lie  in  accumulating  a  number  of  tragic  tales  to  illustrate  the  instability 
of  Fortune  :  that  had  already  been  done  in  the  Roman  de  la  Rose,  which 
Chaucer  utilized  for  his  sections  on  Nero  and  Croesus.  Nor  did  Boccaccio's 
oiiginality  lie  in  the  schematism  of  his  work,  for  schematism  was  no  greater 
novelty  in  the  fourteenth  century  than  in  the  sixteenth.  What  was  substan- 
tially original  in  Boccaccio's  De  Casibus — though  previous  hints  even  for  that 
may  easily  be  found — was  the  device  of  making  the  personages  appear  to  the 
author,  bewail  their  own  woes,  and  (in  some  instances)  tell  him  their  own 
histories.  And  this  device  Chaucer  ignored,  thus  returning  a  long  way 
toward  the  adoption  of  the  pre-Boccaccian  fashion  of  merely  amassing  exempla. 
That  Chaucer  himself  did  not  look  upon  his  Tragedies  as  a  new  literary 
genre  just  invented  by  Boccaccio,  is  shown  by  what  the  Monk  says  in  his 
Prologue :  — 

And  they  [sc.  tragedies]  ben  versifyed  comunly 

Of  six  feet,  which  men  clepe  exametron. 

In  prose  eek  been  endyted  many  oon, 

And  eek  in  metre,  in  many  a  sondry  wyse  (vv.  3168-71). 

On  hexameter  as  the  metre  of  tragedy,  see  Cloetta,  pp.  51-54,  139.  Com- 
pare with  the  passage  which  he' quotes  (p.  51,  note  3)  from  Honorms  Augusto- 
dunensis  (De  Animae  Exsilio  et  Patria,  cap.  2,  Migne,  CLXXII,  1243  D) 
the  following  remark  from  a  fourteenth-century  treatise  on  versifica- 
tion: "Tragedya  [sc.  agit]  de  infelicitate  sublimium  personarurn,  ut  facit 
Lucanus  et  Statius"  (Notices  et  Extraits,  XXII,  ii,  418  ;  cf.  XXII,  ii,  67,  68 
and  note  1). 

2  Mr.  Tatlock's  arguments  on  this  point  (p.  169)  are  convincing. 


43 

proem,  but  a  formal  conclusion  which  refers  back  to  the  beginning. 
It  opens  thus : 

I  wol  biwayle  in  manerof  Tragedie  Ther  may  no  man  the  cours  of  Mr 

The  harm  of  hem  that  stode  in  heigh  withholde  ; 

degree,  Let  no  man  truste  on  blind  prosperi- 

And  fillen  so  that  ther  nas  no  remedie  tee  ; 

To  bringe  hem  out  of  her  adversitee  ;  Be  war  by  thise  ensamples  trewe  and 

For  certein,  whan  that  fortune  list  to  olde. 

flee, 

The  final  stanza  runs : — 

Anhanged  was  Cresus,  the  proude  king, 
His  royal  trone  mighte  him  nat  availle. — 
Tragedie  is  noon  other  rnaner  thing, 
Ne  cau  in  singing  crye  ne  biwaille, 
But  for  that  fortune  alwey  woll  assaille 
With  unwar  strook  the  regnes  that  ben  proude  ; 
For  when  men  trusteth  hir,  than  wol  she  faille, 
And  covere  hir  bright e  face  with  a  cloude. 

Compare  the  language  of  the  conclusion  with  that  of  the  proem, 
and  the  identity  of  idea  and  expression  comes  out  strikingly. 
The  poem  begins  and  ends  with  a  reference  to  the  nature  of  its 
contents — Tragedies — and  with  emphasis  on  the  lesson  they  teach, 
— that  Fortune  is  so  fickle  and  full  of  malice  that  no  man 
should  trust  prosperity.  The  poem,  it  now  appears,  fulfils  two- 
thirds  of  the  Aristotelian  requirement,  inasmuch  as  it  has  a 
beginning  and  an  end.  That  is  doing  pretty  well  for  mediaeval 
times.  If  there  is  some  little  uncertainty  about  the  middle,  the 
author  may  claim  our  indulgence. 

An  inspection  of  the  several  "  ensrtmples  "  of  which  the  poem 
consists  brings  out  another  fact  of  interest.  Omitting  the  four 
Modern  Instances  for  the  moment,  we  note  that  the  moral  about 
Fortune  has  a  strong  tendency  to  appear  at  the  end  of  each 
section.  It  stands  there  in  Hercules,  Nebuchadnezzar-Belshazzar 
(a  structural  unit),1  Zenobia,  Nero,  Alexander,  Julius  Caesar, 
and  Croesus.2 

1  These  two  exempla  form  a  unit.     The  account  of  Nebuchadnezzar  ends 
with  an  account  of  God's  restoring  his  reason,  and  of  the  king's  subsequent 
piety  ;  that  of  Belshazzar  begins — 

His  sone,  which  that  highte  Balthasar, 
That  heeld  the  regne  after  his  fader  day, 
He  by  his  fader  coude  nought  be  war, — 

and  ends  with  a  stanza  about  Fortune.  Thus  the  two  exempla  form  a 
single  (structural)  chapter,  with  no  break  in  the  middle,  and  winding  up  with 
the  customary  moral. 

2  In  Holoi'ernes  and  Anti3fchus  the  Fortune  moral  comes  at  the  beginning. 
In  Samson,  the  lesson  is  more  pointed — "Do  not  tell  your  secrets  to  a 


44  THE  MONK'S  TALE. 

Turning  now  to  the  Modern  Instances,  we  observe  that  the 
Ugolino  chapter  has  the  Fortune  moral  at  the  end,  though 
there  is  no  such  reflection  in  Dante's  account.  Next  we  note 
that  the  two  stanzas  relating  to  Pedro  of  Spain,  with  the  single 
stanza  relating  to  Pierre  de  Lusignan,  form  a  structural  unit. 
The  first  stanza  begins  "  0  noble,  0  worthy  Petro,  glorie  of 
Spayne  "  ;  the  third  begins  "0  worthy  Petro,  king  of  Cypre,  also," 
and  ends  with  the  Fortune  moral,  which  is  applicable  to  both 
Peters  and  closes  the  whole  section  in  the  fashion  that  we  have 
just  remarked  in  so  many  other  cases  : — 

Thus  can  Fortune  her  wheel  governe  and  gye, 
And  out  of  ioye  bringe  men  to  sorwe. 

The  association  of  these  two  kings  was  natural,  since  they  had 
the  same  name  and  were  murdered  in  the  same  year  (1369);1 
besides,  they  were  both  figures  of  interest  to  Englishmen.2 
There  is  nothing  to  indicate  that  the  section  describing  their  fate 
was  not  written  when  the  rest  of  the  poem  was  composed. 
Perhaps,  therefore,  a  consideration  of  the  probable  date  of  this 
section  will  give  a  clue  to  that  of  the  poem  itself. 

Now   the   idea  of   putting  the    two   Peters  together  would  be 

woman,"  a  precept  on  which  Chaucer  rings  the  changes  in  five  out  of  the 
ten  stanzas.  Lucifer  is  exempt,  since  "fortune  may  non  angel  dere  "  (v.  3191), 
and  Adam's  Fall  could  of  course  not  be  ascribed  to  Fortune  ;  but  Lucifer  and 
Adam  are  merely  introductory  and  have  but  one  stanza  apiece.  All  the 
sections,  except  the  Modern  Instances,  being  now  accounted  for,  the  tendency 
or  structural  principle  noted  is  seen  to  be  a  substantial  matter. 

1  Pedro  the  Cruel  was  killed  by  his  brother  Enrique,  March  23, 1369  (Ayala, 
Cronicas,   I,  556).     See  Furnivall's  letter  in  Notes  and  Queries,  4th  Series, 
VIII,  449,  and  Skeat's  note  on  the  Monk's  Tale,  B,  3573. 

Pierre  I.  de  Lusignan  was  murdered  Jan.A17,  1369.  See  the  passages  and  the 
discussion  in  Mas  Latrie,  Histoire  de  rile  de  Chypre,  II,  332-45  ;  cf.  N. 
Jorga,  Philippe  de  Mtzi'eres,  1896,  p.  390,  note  5. 

2  Pierre  de  Lusigmn  visited  England  in  1363,  and  was  royally  entertained 
by  Edward  III.      On  his  tour  see  Mas  Latrie,  Histoire  de  Tile  de  Chypre,  II, 
239-41,    note   1,    and  Jorga,   Philippe  de  Mtzieres,    chap,    vii,    pp.  144  ff. 
(especially  pp.  178-82).     His  capture  of  Alexandria  (in  1365)  is  mentioned  in 
the   Knight's    Tale,   as    well  as  his   successes    at  Satalye    (Attalea,   modern 
Adalid]  in  1361,  and  Lyeys  (Layas,  Lajazzo,  modern  Ayas)  in  1367.     These 
three  exploits  are  mentioned,  along  with  the  capture  of  Tripoli  (in  1367),  in 
the  epitaph  of  Philippe  de  Mezieres,  apparently  as  the  most  notable  achieve- 
ments of  Pierre  (Jorga,  p.  511,  note  5).     Englishmen  took  part  in  them  all. 
Humphrey  de  Bohun  VIII,   the    6th  Earl  of  Hereford,  was  at  Satalie  (in 
13dl,  it  seems),  and  his  successor  (also  named  Humphrey),  the  last  earl  of  the 
Bohun  line  (whose  daughter  Mary  married  the  Earl  of  Derby,  afterwards 
Henry  IV),  was  at  Alexandria,  Tripoli,  and  Lyeys.     See  the  references  and 
the  discussion  in  Manly,  A  Knight  Ther  Was  (Transactions  of  the  American 
Philological  Association,  XXXVIII,  89  ff.),  and  cf.  Jorga,  pp.  121-4,  286  ff., 
365-7,  369. 


THE  MONK'S  TALE.  45 

more  likely  to  occur  to  Chaucer  four  or  five  years  after  their  death 
than  fifteen  or  twenty.  Besides,  the  heraldic  riddle  about  the 
"feeld  of  snow  with  thegle  of  blak  therinne,"  and  the  punning 
allusion  to  Mauny  as  "  wikked  nest,"  in  the  second  stanza, 
suggest  composition  not  so  very  long  after  the  fact.  These  are 
indications,  not  proofs,  but  they  count  for  something.  Let  us  see, 
therefore,  if  there  was  any  particular  occasion  that  may  have 
prompted  Chaucer  to  include  either  "  Petro  "  in  a  poem  that  he 
composed  soon  after  his  return  from  Italy  in  1373. 

Here  we  get  upon  firm  historical  ground.  John  of  Gaunt, 
Chaucer's  great  patron,  married  Constance,  daughter  of  the 
Castilian  king  Pedro,  in  1371,  and  brought  her  to  England  in  1372.1 
He  immediately  assumed  the  style  of  King  of  Castile  and  Leon,  in 
his  wife's  right,  and  the  title  was  recognized  by  Edward  III  in  two 
indentures  of  June  25, 1372. 2  On  the  30th  of  August  John  of  Gaunt 
granted  to  Chaucer's  wife  the  annual  sum  of  <£10,  during  his  good 
pleasure,  in  consideration  of  the  service  which  she  had  done  and 
shall  do  in  the  future  to  his  "  treschere  et  tresame  compaigne  la 
Reine." 3  Thus  we  learn  that  Philippa  Chaucer  became  attached 
to  the  household  of  Constance  almost  immediately  after  the  latter's 
arrival  in  England.  Chaucer  left  London  for  Italy  on  December  1st. 
His  wife  remained  in  Constance's  service  not  only  during  his 
absence  but  for  some  time  after  his  return,  until  he  had  hired  the 
tenement  above  Aldgate,  had  secured  the  Comptrollership  of  the 
Customs,  and  was  ready  to  set  up  housekeeping.  His  appointment, 
we  remember,  occurred  on  June  8,  1374,  and  he  took  the  oath  of 
office  on  the  12th.  Next  day,  John  of  Gaunt  granted  a  life 
annuity  of  .£10 to  Chaucer  for  his  services  to  him  "et  auxint  pur 
la  bon  seruice  que  nostre  bien  ame  Philippe,  sa  femme,  ad  fait  a 
nostre  treshonure  Dame  et  Miere  la  Royne,  .  .  .  et  a  nostre  tres- 
ame compaigne  la  Royne."  4  This  was  in  addition  to  the  £10 
previously  granted  to  Philippa  Chaucer,  and  not  in  lieu  of  it.5 

These  dates  are  significant.  Whether  or  not  Chaucer  was  helped 
to  his  office  by  the  Duke  of  Lancaster,  he  had  abundant  cause  for 
gratitude  to  his  patron  and  his  patron's  new  wife  for  favors 

1  See  the  references  in  Englische  Studien,  XIII,  7,  note  4  ;  cf.  Simeon  Luce, 
Froissart,  VIII,  pp.  xxi-ii. 

2  Rymer's  Fcedera,   ed.  Holmes,   YI,    728-9  ;   cf.    Dugdale,  Baronage  of 
England,  II,  115. 

3  Life-Records,  No.  67,  p.  181.  4  Life-Records^  No.  83,  p.  192. 
6  Kirk,  Life-Records,  p.  xxiv. 


46  THE  MONK'S  TALE. 

received  both  just  before  his  departure  for  Italy  and  shortly  after 
his  return.  Under  the  circumstances,  we  may  feel  pretty  safe  in 
inferring  for  the  tribute  to  Constance's  father,  Pedro  of  Castile,  the 
date  of  1373  or  1374.  The  royal  title  which  John  of  Gaunt  had 
recently  assumed,  by  right  of  his  wife,  made  such  a  tribute 
especially  timely.1  The  date  of  the  tribute  to  Pedro  carries  with  it 
the  date  of  the  poem  as  a  whole. 

So  far  everything  fits  uncommonly  well.  But  what  are  we  to 
make  of  the  third  modern  instance,  Bernabb  Visconti,  who  died 
December  19,  1385?  Must  we  on  his  account  refer  the  whole 
poem  to  1386  or  later,2  ignoring  all  the  evidence  to  the  contrary1? 

I  am  by  no  means  disposed  to  so  violent  a  procedure.  The 
Visconti  section  in  the  Tragedies  is  peculiar  in  that  it  consists  of 
but  a  single  stanza  and  has  no  mention  of  Fortune.  It  has  every 
appearance  of  being  an  afterthought — an  insertion  made  under 
stress  of  some  special  interest  or  emotion.  Let  us  consider  the 
circumstances. 

Bernabo  Visconti  had  been  in  confinement  for  more  than  seven 

1  I  hasten  to  point  out  that  the  Castilian  succession  was  likewise  a  matter 
of  great  interest  to  Chaucer  and  the  English  public  from  1386  to  1389.     On 
the  18th  of  February,  1386,  a  crusade  in  Spain  was  proclaimed  at  Paul's  Cross. 
On  March  8,  1386,  Richard  II  "in  pleno  consilio  in  quantum  potuit  confirmavit 
et  declaravit  dominum  ducem  Lancastriae  verum  fore  heredem  Hispaniae  ac 
in  signum  regii  honoris  ilium  in  consilio  supra  archiepiscopos  fecit  juxta  se 
sedere"  (John  Malverne,  continuation  of  Higden's  Polychronicon,  Eolls  ed., 
IX,  81-82).     In  July,  John  of  Gaunt  embarked  for  Spain  to  assert  his  title 
under  arms.     The  expedition  was  a  dismal  failure.     The  English  forces  were 
attacked  by  pestilence  in  the  spring  of  1387.     The  Duke  saw  that  he  must 
disband  his  army,  and  he  directed  his  constable,  John  de  Holande,  to  draw 
off  the  troops.     Holande  executed  this  movement  and  returned  to  England, 
where  we  find  him  as  early  as  June,  1388  ;  no  doubt  he  arrived  in  1387. 
John  of  Gaunt  retired  (1387)  from  Spain  to  Aquitaine,  where  he  remained 
until  he  was  recalled  by   Richard  II  in   1389   (see  the  authorities  cited  in 
Englische  Studien,  XIII,  12-15).    In  the  spring  of  1388  he  had  made  a  treaty 
with  Juan  I,  in  which  he  and  Constance  renounced  their  rights  to  the  Spanish 
throne  but  secured  the  marriage  of  their  daughter  to  the  Infante  and  the 
succession  of  her  descendants  (Ayala,   Crdnicas,   II,  272  ff.  ;   cf.  Armitage- 
Smith,   John  of  Gaunt,  1904,  p.   330).     These  dates  will  fit  Mr.  Tatlock's 
hypothesis.     The   question   whether   a  tribute   to  Pedro   was   more  timely 
when  John  of  Gaunt's  military  fiasco  was   fresh   in  the  public  mind   than 
in   1373,   when  the   Spanish   marriage  and    the    assumption    of  the   royal 
title  were   brilliant  novelties,  must  be  left  to  the  reader's  judgment.     So 
likewise  must  the  further  question  whether  it  was  more  natural  to  associate 
the  two  Peters  in  1386-9  than  it  was   when  the  fact  that  they  were  both 
murdered  in  the  same  year  was  a  thing  of  comparatively  recent  memory. 
Here  again,  it  should  be  remembered,  we  are  merely  weighing  probabilities. 
Nothing  is  impossible. 

2  Mr.  Tatlock  thinks  that  "  the  Monk's  Tale  was  written  when  the  Canter- 
bury  Tales  were  well  under  way"   (p.    172),  and  was  intended  for  that 
collection  (p.  166).     He  seems  to  date  it  about  1388. 


THE  MONK'S  TALE.  47 

months  at  the  time  of  his  death.  His  fall  took  place  on  May  6, 
1385,1  when  he  was  treacherously  arrested  by  his  nephew  (and 
son-in-law),  Gian  Galeazzo.  He  had  long  been  a  highly  spectacu- 
lar personage,  and  his  overthrow  made  a  great  sensation  through- 
out Europe.  "En  celle  saison,"  writes  Froissart,  "avint  une 
autre  incidense  mervilleuse  en  Lombardie  et  de  laquelle  on  parla 
moult  par  le  monde."2  Of  course  the  tidings  of  Gian  Galeazzo's 
coup  d'etat  reached  England  a  good  while  before  Bernabb's  death. 
Malverne,  the  very  trustworthy  continuator  of  Higden,  tells  the 
story  of  the  arrest  under  the  correct  date  (May  6th),3  and  his  narra- 
tive, which  is  lively,  circumstantial,  and  accurate,  may  be  unhesi- 
tatingly accepted  as  representing  the  form  in  which  the  report  came 
to  the  English  court  and  to  Chaucer.  Between  May  and  December 
Chaucer  had  ample  opportunity  to  reflect  on  one  of  the  most 
amazing  reverses  of  fortune  that  had  taken  place  in  his  lifetime. 
Then,  on  December  19th,  Bernabb  died  suddenly  in  prison.  Chaucer 
knew  him  personally,  having  visited  his  court  on  an  embassy  in 
1378.4  That  the  Lombard  despot  had  impressed  his  imagination,5 
if  only  hinted  at  in  the  Prologue  to  the  Legend?  is  proved  beyond 

1  Letter  from  Carlo  Visconti,  Bernabo's  son,  to  Sir  John  Hawkwood,  dated 
May  6th,  and  saying  that  the  arrest  took  place  "  hodie"  (printed  by  Temple- 
Leader  and  Marcotti,  Giovanni  Acuto,  1889,  p.  285)  ;  Annales  Mediolanenses, 
cap.  147  (Muratori,  Eerum  Italicarum  Scriptores,  XVI,  784) ;  John  Malverne, 
continuation  of  Higden's  Polychronicon  (Rolls  ed.,  IX,  59-60). 

2  Ed.  Kervyn  de  Lettenhove,  X,  324. 

3  Rolls  edition  of  Higden's  Polychronicon,  IX,  59-60.     The  Monk  of  St. 
Albans   (Rolls  ed.,  p.  366)   also  records  Bernabo's  capture,  in  a  passage 
which  is  not  copied  from  Walsingham. 

4  Life-Records,  No.  122,  p.  218. 

6  Bernab6  was  of  considerable  interest  to  his  literary  contemporaries.  See 
Sacchetti,  Novelle,  Nos.  4,  59,  74,  82,  152,  188,  193.  Cf.  L.  di  Francia, 
Franco  Sacchetti  Kovdliere,  1902.  -p  112-120;  A.  Medin,  Letteratura 
Poetica  Viscontea  (Archivio  Storico  Lombardo,  XII,  568  ff.),  and  /  Visconti 
nella  Pocsia  Contemporanea  (id. ,  XT  JT,  733  ff.)  ;  V.  Vitale,  Bernabb  Visconti 
ndla  Novella  e  nella  Cronaca  Contemporanea  (id.,  XXVIII,  261  ff.).  Three 
contemporary  "laments"  in  verse  have  been  printed  by  A.  Medin  and  L. 
Frati,  Lamenti  Storici  dei  Secoli  XIV,  XV  e  XVI,  I,  63-213. 

6  A,  vv.  353  ff.  ;  B,  vv.  373  ff.  A  fine  example  of  Bernab6's  implacability 
maybe  found  in  Matt^o  Villani,  Oronica,  ix,  50,  II,  237-8  (Collezione  di  Storici 
e  Cronisti  Italiani,  VI).  One  is  reminded  of  the  "irons  potestat"  (from 
Seneca)  in  the  Somnour's  Tale  (D,  2017  ff.).  Villani  died  in  1363.  He 
records  instances  of  Bernabo's  cruelty  in  book  vii,  chap.  48  ^11,  43-45), 
excusing  himself  for  so  doing  by  remarking  that  they  may  serve^'per  esempio 
del  pericolo  che  si  corre  sotto  il  giogo  della  sfrenata  tirannia."  There  is  an 
appalling  catalogue  (ex  parte)  of  Bernab6's  crimes  in  the  accusation  brought 
against  him  by  Gian  Galeazzo  and  preserved  in  the  Annales  Mediolanenses 
(Muratori,  XVI,  794-800;  cf.  G.  Romano.  Achimo  Storico  Lombardo,  XX,  602 
If.).  See  also  the  first  Lamento  di  Rernabd  Visconti,  sts.  113-141  (Medin  and 
Frati,  Lamenti  Storici  dei  Secoh  XIV,  XV e  XVI,  I,  116-127). 


48  THE  MONK'S  TALE. 

a  shadow  of  doubt  by  the  powerful  line  in  which  he  apostrophizes 
him  in  the  Tragedies, — "  God  of  deiit  and  scourge  of  Lumbardye !" l 
The  stanza  was  certainly  written  as  soon  as  the  news  of  Bernabb's 
death  reached  England.2  Chaucer  was  ignorant  of  the  details. 
He  supposed,  as  most  contemporaries  did,  that  Gian  Galeazzo  had 
procured  his  uncle's  murder,3 — but  the  particular  reason  for  killing 

1  "  Ceterorum  principum  sic  cupiditatem  inexplebilem  superabat,  ut  me- 
dietatem  bonorum  plebis  extorqueret"  (Monk  of  Saint  Denys,  xxiv,  18,  III, 
132). 

2  There  were  special  reasons,  apart  from  the  general  fame  of  Bernab6,  why 
his  fall  and  death  were  of  interest   to   Englishmen.     Lionel,  the  Duke  of 
Clarence  (in  the  household  of  whose  first  wife  Chancer  himself  had  served  in 
1357  :  Life- Records,  No.  33,  pp.  152-3)  married  Violanta  Visconti,  niece  of 
Bernabo,  in  1368,  and  died  in  Piedmont  in  the  same  year,  not  without  sus- 
picion of  poison  (Froissart,  ed.  Kervyn,  VII,  246-7,  251-2  ;  ed.  Luce,  VII,  64, 
83).     Edward  Despenser,  who  was  in  his  company,  received  the  thanks  of 
Edward  III  for  holding  Lionel's  possessions  against  Violanta's  father,  Galeazzo 
(royal  instructions,  Dec.,  1368,  in  Kervyn's  Froissart,  XVIII,  489).     Bernab6 
had  oifered  his  own  daughter  Katerina  to  Richard  II,  and  an  embassy  had 
been  sent  to  Milan  on  this  business  in  1379  (Rymer,  Fcedera,  2nd  ed.,  VII, 
213  ;  Record  ed.,  IV,  60  ;  Walsingham,  Historia  Anglicana,  Rolls  ed.  II,  46  ; 
C.  G.  Chamberlayne,  Die  Heirat  Richards  II.  von  England  mit  Anna  von 
Luxemburg,  Halle,  1906,  p.   13).     The   wife   of  Sir  John   Hawkwood,    the 
famous  English  free-lance,  was  Donnina,  one  of  Bernab6  Visconti's  daughters. 
It  is  also  worth  noting  that  in  1388   two  sons  of  Bernabo,   "venientes  in 
Angliam,"  received  a  gift  of  £40  from  Richard  II  to  aid  in  their  support 
(Rymer,  2nd  ed.,  VII,  601). 

3  The  current  opinion  was  that  Bernab6  was  poisoned.     "  Veneno  sumto 
in  quodam  ferculo,"  say  the  Annales  Mediolanenses  (Muratori,  XVI,  800). 
Andrea Gataro remarks  that  "per  quanto  fu  publicamente detto,  fu  avvelenato 
per  tre  fiate  "  (Istoria  Padorana,  Muratori,  XVII,  499).     Bernardino  Corio 
(born  1459)  is  able  to  specify  the  very  dish  in  which  the  poison  was  adminis- 
tered,— "  in  una  scodella  di  fagiuoli "  (Storia  di  Milano,  ed.  Butti  and  Ferrario, 
Part  iii,  chap.  7,  II,  326  ;  cf.  Venice  ed.,  1554,  fol.  259  r°).     Ptomaines  and 
acute  indigestion  occur  to  us  as  alternative  possibilities,  and  one  modern 
scholar  is  bold  enough  to  assert  that  Bernab6  died  "  della  malattia  stessa  di 
Napoleone   a  S.   Elena,    ambizione  rientrata "  (C.    Cantu,  Archivio   Storico 
Lombardo,  XIV,  461).    For  the  belief  that  he  was  poisoned,  see  also  Sozomenus 
Pistoriensis,    Specimen    Historiae    (Muratori,    XVI,    1128)  ;     Matthaeus   de 
Griffonibus,  McmorialeHistoricum(id.,  XVIII,  196) ;  Cronicadi  Bologna  (id., 
XVIII,   526) ;    Goro  (Gregorio)  Dati,  Istoria  di  Firenze,  i,  9  (ed.  Pratesi, 
1902,  p.   18;    Florence   ed.,   1735,  pp.  9-10);    Chronique  du   Rdigieux  de 
Saint-Denys,   xxiv,    18   (III,  132,  in   Collection  de  Documents    inedits  sur 
I'Histoire  de  France) ;  Chronica  di  Milano  dal  948  al  1487  (ed.  Lambertenghi, 
Turin,  1869,  p.  121)  ;  Paulus  Jovius,  Vitae  Illustrium  Virorum  (ed.  Basel, 
1578,  I,  82) ;  Ripanionti,  Historia  Urbis  Mediolani  (in  Graevius,  Thesaurus 
Antiquitatum  et  Histori-arum  Italiae,    II,    571).     Cf.    Raynaldus,  Annales 
Ecclesiastici,  VII,  486  (Lucca,  1752) ;  Muratori,  Annali  d'ltalia,  VIII,  ii, 
266  ;  Rosmini,  Istoria  di  Milano,  II  (1820),  157  ;  Verri,  Storia  di  Milano, 
ed.  1834-5,  I,  470 ;  Litta,  Famiglie  Celebri  Italiane,  vol.  I,  fasc.  ix  (Visconti 
di  Milano),  tav.  v. 

Sercambi  expresses  himself  guardedly  :  "  Vedendosi  messer  Bernabo  esser 
privato  di  madonna  Porrina,  subito  di  malanconia  amal6,  e  chi  vuol  dire  che 
bevesse.  Or  chome  la  cesa  fusse,  lui  amalato,  doppo  molto  piangere  e  lamen- 
tarsi  cadde  in  malatia,  della  quale  in  picciolo  tempo  morio  "  (Croniche,  Part  i, 
chap.  296,  ed.  Bongi,  I,  246,  in  Fonti  per  la  Storia  d'ltalia). 


THE  MONK'S  TALE.  49 

him  after  he  had  been  so  many  months  in  prison,  and  when  there 
was  no  occasion  to  regard  him  as  dangerous,  Chaucer  did  not 
know,  nor  was  he  informed  as  to  the  precise  manner  of  his  taking 
off, — "  But  why,  ne  how,  noot  I  that  thou  were  slawe  ! "  It  is 
even  possible  to  determine,  with  some  probability,  the  exact  source 
from  which  Chaucer  derived  the  news.  About  a  fortnight  after 
Bernabb's  death,  a  gentleman,  presumably  English,  who  had  been 
for  some  time  a  number  of  Sir  John  Hawkwood's  company  of  free 
lances,  arrived  from  Lombardy  at  the  court  of  Richard  II.  We  do 
not  know  his  errand,  but  it  seems  safe  to  infer  that  he  brought 
word  that  Bernabb  was  dead.  Perhaps  he  had  been  sent  for  this 
very  purpose  by  Hawkwood  himself,  who,  we  should  remember, 
was  the  fallen  tyrant's  son-in-law.1  At  all  events,  Malverne,  whose 
relations  to  the  English  court  were  close,  records  his  arrival,  and 
tells  of  a  prophecy  about  England  which  he  reported  as  rife  in 
Lombardy.2  Malverne's  text,  to  be  sure,  contains  no  mention  of 
Bernabb's  death,  but  in  the  margin  of  the  same  page  the  manuscript 
of  his  chronicle  shows  the  following  significant  entry  : — "  Quo  in 
tempore  dominus  Barnabos  moriebatur  in  carcere,  qua  morte  an 
gladio  aut  fame  aut  veneno  ignoratur."3  This  gives  us,  at  all 
events,  the  form  in  which  the  report  reached  English  ears,  and 
corresponds  strikingly  with  Chaucer's  expressed  uncertainty  as  to 
the  precise  method  of  Bernabb's  demise.  What  was  more  natural 
than  that  Chaucer,  on  hearing  of  the  tyrant's  end,  should  dash  off 
his  vigorous  stanza  in  the  margin  of  his  own  copy  of  the  Tragedies? 
The  obvious  place  for  it  was  after  the  section  on  the  two  earlier  modern 


Froissart  has  a  very  curious  passage  on  Bernabo's  death:  "Sesoncles  [sc. 
Gian  Galeazzo's  uncle,  Bernabo]  morut,  je  ne  say  mies  de  quel  mort,  je  croy 
bien  qu'il  fu  sainnies  ou  hateriel,  enssi  comme  il  ont  d'usage  de  faire  leurs 
sainnies  en  Lombardie,  quant  il  voellent  a  un  homme  avanchier  sa  fin  "  (ed. 
Kervyn  de  Lettenhove,  X,  327  ;  cf.  XV,  258-9,  with  the  variant  reading). 

Several  chronicles  register  Bernab6's  death  without  specifying  a  cause 
(Muratori,  XV,  512  ;  XVI,  544,  854  ;  XVII,  1127). 

1  Chaucer  knew  Hawkwood  (see  Life-records,  Nos.  121,  122,  pp.  216-19). 

2  "Circiter  principium  vero  istius  mensis  [i.e.  January,  1386]  venit  ad 
curiam  domini  regis  quidam  armiger,  qui  aliquamdiu  in  Lombardia  stetit  in 
comitiva  domini  Johannis  Haukewode,  et  narravit  de  quodam  religioso  in 
illis  partibus  demorante  quomodo  praedicebat  gentem  Anglorum  infra  tres 
annos  proxime  secuturos   propter  eorum  malam  vitam  fore  atrociter  casti- 
gandam,"  etc.  (John  Malverne,  in  the  Rolls  ed.  of  Higden;  IX,  78).     If,  as  is 
possible,  this  gentleman  from  Hawkwood  left  Lombardy  too  early  to  report 
the  death  of  Bernabb,  he  was  at  any  rate  in  a  position  to  furnish  the  court  circle 
(including  Chaucer,  who  was  still  engaged  in  giving  personal  attention  to  the 
customs)  with  interesting  details  about  the  tyrant's  arrest  and  incarceration. 

3  Malverne,  as  above,  IX,  78,  note. 

DATE   OF   0.   T.  E 


50  THE  MONK'S  TALE. 

victims  of  assassination — Pedro  of  Spain  and  Pierre  I  de  Lusignan  ; 
and  Chaucer  fitted  it  in  as  a  kind  of  appendix  to  that  section  by 
putting  it  into  the  form  of  direct  address.  Compare  the  vocatives 
"  0  noble,  o  worthy  Petro,  glorie  of  Spayne,"  and  "  0  worthy 
Petro,  King  of  Cypre,  also,"  with  the  vocative  "  Of  Melan  grete 
Barnabo  Viscoimte."  Direct  address  is  not  the  method  in  the  other 
tragedies.1  It  is  well  to  remember,  as  a  possible  associative  influence 
in  Chaucer's  mind,  the  fact  that  one  of  Bernabb's  daughters2 
had  married  Pierre  II  de  Lusignan,  the  son  and  successor  of 
Pierre  I.  "  Why  sholde  I  nat  thyn  infortune  accounts  ?  "  3  is 
likewise  eminently  suggestive  of  an  addition — "  Why  should  I 
not  reckon  in,  or  take  into  account,  thy  misfortune  [also]1?"  The 
high  probability  that  the  Bernabb  stanza  is  an  insertion,  an  after- 
thought, comes  out  clearly  if  vv.  3565-96  are  read  as  they  stand, 
with  the  structure  of  the  section  on  the  two  Peters  in  mind.4  I 
see  nothing  that  can  be  urged  against  it  except  the  general  principle 
that  a  poet  is  never  to  alter  a  work  that  he  has  once  finished  or 
laid  aside.5 

1  The  instances  of  direct  address  in  Samson  (vv.  3242-7),  Alexander  (vv. 
3848-52),  and  Julius  Caesar  (vv.  3869-76)  are  merely  apostrophic  (of.  vv. 
3883-4,  3909). 

2  Valentina  (or  Valenza)  Visconti.     The  marriage  was  celebrated  by  proxy 
April  2,  1376.     Pierre  II  died  in  1382  ;    Valentina  lived  until  1393.     See 
di  Mas  Latrie,   Gentalogie  des  Rois  de  Chypre  de  la  Famille  de  Lusignan 
(Archivio  Veneto,  XXI,  335-6  ;  of.  also  his  ffistoire  de  Vtlede  Chypre,  II, 
346ft). 

3  Accounte  is  commonly  taken  as  meaning  "recount,"  "relate"  (Oxford 
Dictionary,  s.v.,  IV,  8),  but  the  sense  "reckon  in,"  "take  into  account,"  is 
much  more  likely.     The  passage  from  Gower  (Confessio,  vii,  2226-7)  quoted 
in  the  Oxford  Dictionary  under  the  same  definition  certainly  does  not  belong 
there,  nor — very  emphatically — that  from  the  Gcst  Historiale  of  the  Destruction 
of  Troy  (vv.  5443-4).     The  Gower  passage  should  be  punctuated — 

In  here  time  thei  surmonte 

Alle  othre  men,  that — to  acompte — 

Of  hem  was  tho  the  grete  fame  (vii,  2265-7). 

To  acompte  is  parenthetical.  The  meaning  is  :  "  They  surpass  all  other  men 
in  their  time,  so  that  (to  estimate  tHeir  reputation  properly)  the  great  talk 
was  then  of  them,"  i.  e.  "  they  were  more  talked  about,  or  had  a  greater 
reputation,  than  anybody  else."  Of  hem  goes  with  the  grete  fame,  not  with 
acompte.  In  the  Gest  Historiale  (v.  5443)  "to  acounte  of  the  kynges" 
introduces  a  long  enumeration,  not  a  narrative  ;  it  means,  therefore,  "  to 
make  a  list  of  the  kings,"  "  to  enumerate  them  in  their  order." 

4  My  argument  for  the  late  insertion  of  the  Bernabb  stanza  does  not  involve 
the  question  whether  the  Modern  Instances  (minus  Bernabb)  originally  stood 
at  the  end  or  where   they  stand  now.     It  is  equally  consistent  with  both 
arrangements.     For  opinions  on  the  original  place  of  the  Modern  Instances, 
see  Skeat's  Chaucer,  III,  428-30  ;  Tatlock,  pp.  170-2  ;  Skeat,  The  Evolution 
of  the  Canterbury  Talcs,  1907,  pp.  21,  29. 

B  It  will  hardly  be  objected  that,  in  case  my  views  about  the  Bernabb 
stanza  are  correct,  the  Tragedies  ought  to  be  extant  in  their  earlier  form, 
that  is,  without  this  stanza.  Since  the  stanza  was  inserted,  ex  hypothesit 


THE  MONK'S  TALE.  51 

This  theory  accords  with  certain  other  facts  or  beliefs  with 
regard  to  the  planning  or  composition  of  the  Canterbury  Tales. 
If,  as  is  quite  possible,  Chaucer  was  thinking  of  that  great  work  as 

before  group  B  of  the  Canterbury  Tales  was  published,  no  manuscript  of  that 
group,  or  of  the  whole  of  the  Canterbury  Tales,  would  ever  have  lacked  the 
Bcrnabo  stanza.  This  will  be  true  whether  we  suppose  the  stanza  to  have 
been  inserted  by  Chaucer  in  the  act  of  fitting  the  Tragedies  into  the  Canter- 
bury Tales  or  earlier.  Where  is  there  a  manuscript  of  the  Canterbury  Tales  in 
which  the  Shipman's  Tale,  originally  written  for  a  woman  to  tell,  is  ascribed 
to  anybody  but  the  Shipman  ?  As  to  a  separate  manuscript  of  the  Tragedies 
(by  itself)  without  the  stanza, — where  is  there  a  separate  manuscript  of  St. 
Cecilia,  which  was  not  written  for  the  Canterbury  Talcs  at  all,  or  of  the  Book 
of  the  Lion,  or  of  the  Wrdched  Engendering  of  Mankind,  or  of  Origenes  upon 
the  Maudeleyne? 

Nor  will  it  be  objected  that  revision — witness  the  Second  Nun's  Tale  and 
the  Shipman's — is  contrary  to  Chaucer's  habits.  The  Troilus  and  the 
Prologue  to  the  Legend  are  answer  enough  to  that.  If  it  be  answered  in  sur- 
rehuttal,  that  these  are  not  parallel  cases,  inasmuch  as  (1)  the  Troilus  is  a 
great  poem,  over  which  Chaucer  lingered  with  loving  care,  and  (2)  the  second 
Prologue  is  due  to  some  special  moving  cause,  one  may  answer  that  the  inser- 
tion of  the  Beruabo  stanza  was  due  to  a  very  special  moving  cause,  the  tragic 
death  of  that  "  god  of  delyt  and  scourge  of  Lumbardye  "  who  had  so  impressed 
Chaucer's  imagination.  And  if  this  answer  is  not  accepted,  one  may  still  call 
attention  to  the  essential  difference  between  revising  a  poem  and  writing, 
under  stress  of  exciting  news,  a  single  stanza  in  the  margin  of  one's  manu- 
sciipt.  And,  finally,  if  this  remark  is  also  scouted,  one  may  fall  back  on  the 
schoolman's  exceptio  probat  rcgulam  and  on  Chaucer's  own  evidence  that 
"ho  iityme  it  shal  fallen  on  a  day  That  falleth  nat  eft  withinne  a  thousand 
yere."  This  guarding  of  the  outposts  seems  rather  superfluous,  but  the 
gentle  reader  is  courteously  petitioned  to  remember  that  the  friendly  contest 
over  Chaucerian  dates  is  being  carried  on  with  extraordinary  vigor  and  quite 
particular  keenness  at  the  present  moment. 

Mr.  Tatlock  thinks  that  v.  3851  ("  Thy  sys  fortune  hath  turned  into  as  ") 
was  borrowed  fro:n  Gower's  Mirour,  vv.  22102-3  or  v.  23399,  and  that  this 
borrowing  suggests  a  date  not  earlier  than  1379-81  (p.  165).  Yet,  in  arguing 
for  a  date  of  about  1379  for  completion  of  the  House  of  Fame,  he  thinks 
that  vv.  22129-52  of  the  Mirour  (a  part  of  the  same  passage  on  Fortune  in 
which  vv.  22102-3  occur)  were  borrowed  by  Gower  from  the  House  of  Fame 
(pp.  39-40).  Such  crisscross  inferences  seem  a  little  too  easy-going.  What- 
ever may  be  true  of  vv.  22129-52  (which  we  need  not  discuss),  I  regard  the 
resemblance  pointed  out  between  the  Monk's  Tale  and  the  Mirour  as  quite 
fortuitous.  Let  us  remember  that,  "  in  the  dees  right  as  ther  fallen  chaunces," 
so  also  verbal  similarity  may  now  and  then  occur  by  accident,  especially  in 
matters  of  common  experience.  Not  only  are  figures  from  dice-play  common 
(as  Mr.  Tatlock  admits),  but  there  was  a  fortune-telling  game  with  dice,  to 
which  there  may  bean  allusion  in  Troilus,  ii,  1347-51.  The  throw  six-six-one 
in  this  kind  of  divination  has  the  following  stanza  attached  to  it  in  the  Book 
of  Urome  (a  fifteenth -century  manuscript),  edited  by  Miss  Toulmin  Smith, 
p.  16  :— 

Synys  \i.  e.  two  sixes]  and  asse  tell  me  sekerly 

That  3owr  dessyer  ys  but  folly, 

Schonge  $owr  thowt,  I  cowncell  the, 

Yffe  30  wyll  not  a  schamyd  be. 

See  also  Macaulay's  note  on  Confessio  Amantis,  iv,  2792.  Finally,  one  may 
cite  as  a  parallel  to  the  passages  in  Chaucer  and  Gower  the  remark  of  Love  to 
the  author  of  Tre'sor  Amotireux:  "Tu  as  A  la  fois  pour  un  six  un  as  "  (vv. 
589-90,  in  Scheler's  Froissart,  III,  70). 


52  THE  MONK'S  TALE. 

early  as  January,  1386,  be  would  naturally  take  account  of  stock, 
looking  through  his  papers  occasionally  for  old  narrative  material 
which  might  be  available.  The  Tragedies,  then,  was  in  his  mind 
—perhaps,  indeed,  he  had  just  read  the  poem  over — when  he 
learned  of  Bernabo's  death.1 

On  the  whole,  then,  we  may  feel  reasonably  certain  that  Chaucer 
wrote  the  Tragedies,  except  for  the  Yisconti  stanza,  in  the 
Transition  Period  (about  1374),  and  that  he  put  in  that  stanza  in 
January,  1386,  as  soon  as  the  news  of  Bernabo's  death  came  to  his 
ears.  No  other  theory  appears  to  fit  so  many  of  the  known  facts.2 

1  Mr.  Tatlock's  argument  that  the  Monk's  Tale  was  composed  expressly  for 
the  Canterbury  collection,  relies,  in  part,  upon  "  lordinges  "  in  v.  3429, 
which  he  thinks  suggests  oral  address  to  people  actually  present  in  the  body 
(p.  170).  But  there  is  no  reason  why,  for  once  in  his  life,  Chaucer  should  not 
have  used  that  extremely  common  vocative — the  Middle  English  equivalent 
of  the  modern  "gentlemen" — in  a  poem  intended  to  be  read  aloud.  We 
are  prone  to  forget  that  the  number  of  persons  in  the  fourteenth  century  who 
heard  a  story  read  to  them  was  much  greater  than  the  number  of  those  who 
read  it  to  themselves.  Cf.  Troihis,  ii,  81  fF.  ;  Froissart,  Dit  du  Florin,  vv. 
341-379,  Po&ries,  ed.  Scheler,  II,  230-1. 

Some  colloquialism  and  informality  might  be  expected,  perhaps,  in  a  poem 
originally  written  for  the  Canterbury  Tales,  but  their  presence  in  a  poem  by 
no  means  proves,  or  tends  to  prove,  that  it  ivas,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  composed 
for  that  collection.  How  about  the  House  of  Fame,  with  its  "now  herkueth" 
(vv.  109,  509,  cf.  v.  1549),  "as  I  shal  telle  yow  echoon  "  (v.  150),  "  Ne  can 
I  not  to  yow  devyse  "  (v.  1179),  "  to  make  yow  to  longe  dwellen  "  (vv.  1300, 
1454)  ?  Or  the  Troilus,  with  its  "my  purpos  is,  er  that  I  parte  fro  ye  "  (i,  5), 
"This,  trowe  I,  knoweth  al  this  companye"  (i,  450),  "if  it  happe  in  any 
wyse,  That  here  be  any  lovere  in  this  place  "  (ii,  29-30),  "  Eek  scarsly  been 
ther  in  this  place  three  That  han  in  love  seyd  lyk  and  doon  in  al "  (ii,  43-44), 
etc.  ?  But  we  need  not  multiply  words  on  this  score.  The  appeal  to  sporadic 
colloquialism  and  informality  is  unfortunate,  for  it  at  once  calls  our  attention 
to  the  stilted  and  rhetorical  style  of  the  Tragedies  as  a  whole. 

As  for  "I  wol  bewayle  in  maner  of  tragedie,"  there  is  absolutely  nothing 
colloquial  or  informal  about  that.  What  Mr.  Tatlock  calls  ' '  the  definition  of 
tragedy"  in  v.  3951  (to  say  that  this  "echoes  that  in  the  Monk's  Prologue" 
begs  the  question)  refers  back  perfectly  to  the  beginning  of  the  poem. 
Nothing  can  be  made  of  such  trifles.  But,  if  one  wishes  to  hold  that  they 
are  significant,  they  may— as  Mr.  Tatlock  reluctantly  admits— signify  a  very 
slight  revision  at  the  time  of  the  insertion  of  the  Tragedies  into  the  Canterbury 
Tales.  And,  if  one  chooses,  the  Bernabo  stanza  may  have  gone  in  at  the 
same  time.  This  is  not  my  opinion — for  I  attach  no  weight  whatever  to 
these  supposed  evidences  of  oral  delivery— but  it  is  quite  consistent  with 
putting  the  Tragedies  in  the  Transition  Period. 

2  Mr.  Tatlock  does  not  think  that  this  stanza  was  written  as  early  as  1386. 
"That  it  [the  whole  second  half  of  the  poem]  was  not  written  so  immediately 
after  Bernabo's  death  is  suggested  by  the  fact  that  his  '  tragedy  '  is  preceded 
by  those  of  the  two  Pedros,  who  died  in  1369  ;  we  should  expect  that  Chaucer 
would  have  begun  with  the  modern  potentate  whom  he  had  known,  if  he  had 
just  died  "  (p.  172).  I  do  not  quite  understand  this  argument.  However, 
Mr.  Tatlock's  chief  reasons  for  regarding  the  stanza  as  not  written  in  1386 
seem  to  be  that  "  Professor  Lowes  has  shown  that  Chaucer  must  have  been 
occupied  with  the  Legend  in  1386,  and  [that]  we  have  seen  that  this  and  the 
following  year  were  pretty  well  occupied  with  this  and  with  the  zealous 
beginning  of  the  Canterbury  Tales."  He  concludes,  "Everything  therefore 


THE    HOUSE   OF    FAME.  53 

The  third  poem  which  one  would  naturally  refer  to  the  Period 
of  Transition  is  £he  House  of  Fame.  The  idea  that  the  House  of 
Fame  is  based  upon  Dante,  or  permeated  with  Dante's  influence, 
or  modelled  after  the  Divine  Comedy,  cannot  be  seriously  enter- 
tained. It  belongs,  in  form,  technique,  and  mis  en  scene,  to  the 
great  class  of  French  vision-poems,  and  from  them  and  the  Latin 
classics  it  derives  most  of  its  material,  so  far  as  this  is  not  original 
with  the  author. 

Yet,  though  the  House  of  Fame  is  in  no  respect  Dantesque,  its 
relation  to  Dante,  as  all  agree,  is  far  more  intimate  than  that  of 
St.  Cecilia  or  the  Tragedies.  The  borrowed  passages,  though  neither 
numerous  nor  extensive,  are  wrought  into  the  texture  of  the  poem: 
Chaucer  has  not  merely  appropriated  them  ;  he  has  made  them  his 
own.  And  sometimes,  without  borrowing  or  imitating,  he  has 
taken  a  hint  from  Dante,  and  developed  the  suggestion  in  his  own 
Chaucerian  way.  Not  that  Chaucer's  obligations  to  Dante  in  this 
poem — his  visible  and  palpable  obligations — are  large.  On  the 
contrary  they  are  very  small  indeed,  compared  with  his  obligations 
to  the  classics  for  material  and  to  French  literature  for  both 
material  and  technique.1  This  may  be  tested  by  a  simple 
experiment.  Suppose  we  were  forced  to  put  the  House  of  Fame 
in  a  group  of  two,  the  other  member  being  either  the  Divine 
Comedy  or  the  Roman  de  la  Rose.  We  should  not  hesitate  an 
instant  to  associate  it  with  the  Roman.  No,  Chaucer's  real 
indebtedness  to  Dante  in  the  House  of  Fame  consists  in  nothing 
palpable  or  particular.  It  consists  rather  in  the  culture  and 
stimulus  and  enlightenment  that  he  could  not  fail  to  derive  from 
studying  the  Divine  Comedy,  different  as  his  genius  was  from 

indicates  that  the  Monk's  Tale  was  written  when  the  Canterbury  Tales  were 
well  underway"  (ibid.}. 

The  difficulty  one  has  in  accepting  Mr.  Tatlock's  theory  that  the  Tragedies 
was  not  written  early  and  later  inserted  in  the  frame  of  the  Canterbury 
Pilgrimage,  but  that  it  was  really  composed  for  the  Monk,  is  only  increased 
by  the  fact  that  this  theory  forces  him  to  disregard  the  impression  that  the 
stanza  about  Bernabo  makes  upon  most  of  us.  If  anything  can  be  certain 
without  documentary  evidence,  we  may  surely  feel  confident  that  this  stanza 
was  composed  as  soon  as  Chaucer  heard  of  the  tyrant's  end. 

It  should  be  noted  that,  if  we  accept  (as  Mr.  Tatlock  does)  the  year  1386 
as  the  date  of  the  first  version  of  the  Prologue  to  the  Legend  of  Good 
Women,  the  mention  of  "tyrants  of  Lombardy"  therein  coincides  very 
nearly  in  time  with  the  indubitable  date  of  the  stanza  on  Bernabo  Visconti, 
the  M  scourge  of  Lumbardye."  This  seems  pretty  significant. 

1  On  the  sources  and  technique  of  the  House  of  Fame,  see  especially  W.  0. 
Sypherd,  Studies  in  Chaucer's  ffous  of  Fame,  Chaucer  Society,  1907,  where 
the  French  characteristics  of  the  poem  are  well  brought  out. 


54  THE    HOUSE    OF    FAME. 

Dante's  in  almost  every  way.  And  even  in  this  respect  we  must 
take  care  not  to  exaggerate  Dante's  influence,  for  Chaucer's  even- 
ings of  study  after  office  hours  were  not  restricted  to  Italian.  He 
was  broadening  his  literary  horizon  in  all  directions.  We  no 
longer  talk,  as  our  ancestors  did,  of  "learned  Chaucer."  Yet, 
leaving  Italian  out  of  the  reckoning,  we  see  at  a  glance  that 
Chaucer  is  much  more  learned  in  the  House  of  Fame  than  in  the 
Book  of  the  Duchess.  Indeed,  the  allusions  and  references  in  the 
House  of  Fame  are  so  many  and  so  curious  as  to  baffle  the  best 
scholarship  of  to-day.  It  makes  no  difference  where  Chaucer  got 
them, — from  encyclopaedias  or  anthologies  or  what  not :  he  did  not 
get  them  all  out  of  one  or  two  encyclopaedias  or  out  of  one  or  two 
anthologies.  He  had  spent  many  an  evening  "  sitting  at  another 
book  "  until  his  eyes  dazzled.  He  had  been  filling  his  head  with 
information  from  various  sources  as  well  as  cultivating  his  taste 
by  reading  Italian.  And,  in  particular,  he  had  been  studying  the 
Latin  classics.  Ovid  he  had  long  known,  of  course,  but  he  had 
reverted  to  him  just  before  he  wrote  the  House  of  Fame,  and  he 
had  recently  read  the  ^neid,  perhaps  for  the  first  time.  I  need 
not  pursue  the  subject.  The  implications  are  obvious.  It  is  neither 
accident  nor  whim  that  we  have  to  thank  for  the  Eagle's  descrip- 
tion of  Chaucer's  studious  habits.  The  composition  of  the  House 
of  Fame  was  directly  preceded  by  a  time  of  reading  and  study, 
during  which  Chaucer,  busy  at  the  custom-house  in  the  daytime, 
spent  evening  after  evening  over  French,  Latin,  and  Italian  books. 
What  he  wrote  in  the  meantime  was  not  essentially  different  from 
the  product  of  his  French  Period,  though  he  was  always  growing. 
It  included,  besides  many  occasional  lyrics,  the  Tragedies  and  the 
St.  Cecilia, — perhaps  also  the  translation  of  Boethius,  which  fits  this 
studious  time  and  must  have  been  a  powerful  educating  influence. 
And  then,  still  in  the  Transition  Period,  came  the  House  of  Fame, 
— 'full  of  spirit  and  verve  and  conscious  power,  but  not  to  be 
compared  with  what  was  to  follow,  in  the  Italian  Period,  when 
Chaucer  had  "found  himself,"  recognizing  Boccaccio  as  his  proper 
guide.1 

The  House  of  Fame,  then,  is  an  earlier  poem  than  the  Troilus, 
— how  much  earlier  we  need  not  now  consider.  For  years  I  have 

a  The  Italian  Period,  in  my  sense,  begins  with  the  Troilus  or  the  Palamon, 
whichever  came  first.  I  am  not  yet  ready  to  express  a  decided  opinion  on 
that  point,  nor  is  it  of  any  moment  in  this  argument. 


TROILUS    LATER    THAN    HOUSE    OF   FAME.  55 

"believed  and  taught  that  this  is  the  proper  order.  The  Troilus 
is  a  great  poem ;  the  House  of  Fame  is  merely  a  very  clever 
poem.  It  is  brilliant  and  spirited,  and  shows  much  liveliness/ 
in  narrative  and  a  good  deal  of  humor;  but,  by  the  side  of  a\ 
masterpiece  like  the  Troilus,  it  sinks  into  comparative  obscurity. 
To  be  sure,  merit  is  not  an  infallible  test  of  chronology. 
Common  sense  and  experience  alike  teach  us  that  a  later  work 
may  often  fall  below  the  level  of  one  that  is  earlier.  But  here 
there  is  no  question  of  failing  powers  or  an  uncongenial  subject 
or  hostile  circumstances.  Both  poems  are  ambitious,1  both  are 
written  con  amore,  and  both  exhibit  a  high  degree  of  technical 
skill.  But  the  Troilus  is  manifestly  indicative  of  greater  maturity. 
The  conclusion  is  obvious,  and  we  cannot  avoid  it  unless  there 
is  evidence  to  the  contrary. 

It  is  of  no  avail  to  assert  in  rebuttal  that  the  appearance  of 
maturity,  in  Chaucer,  depends  rather  on  the^  kind  of  subject  than 
on  the  date  of  composition.2  For  maturity  is  indicated  as  well 
in  choosing  a  subject  worthy  of  one's  powers  as  in  treating  it 
adequately  after  it  is  chosen. 

There  is  no  indication  whatever  that,  when  Chaucer  began  the 
Troilus,  he  meant  to  make  a  mere  translation  of  the  Filostrato,  and 
that  the  project  ran  away  with  him,  so  that  he  produced  a  great 
original  work.  Indeed,  the  indications  are  all  the  other  way.  One 
has  but  to  read  (side  by  side  with  the  Italian)  the  first  thousand 
lines  of  the  Troilus,  which  cover  the  period  of  about  700  in 
Boccaccio,  to  perceive  that  Chaucer  took  up  his  pen  with  a  lively 
consciousness  of  what  he  was  about.3  Thanks  to  Dr.  Young's 
recent  investigations,  we  now  know  that  Chaucer  used  the  Filocolo 
as  well  as  the  Filostrato.  Such  use  appears  within  the  first  thousand 
lines.  Within  these  limits  also,  we  find  echoes  from  Benoit  and 
Boethius,  an  important  reference  to  Ovid's  Heroides  (with  quotation), 
and  a  sonnet  of  Petrarch.  These  are  not  insertions  or  mere  purple 

1  It  is  not  as  if  the  House  of  Fame  were  a  mere  skit  or  brief  jeu  d' esprit. 
Unfinished  as  it  is,  it  runs  to  2158  lines,  and  gives  no  sign  of  stopping. 

2  See  Tatlock,  p.  18. 

8  Mr.  Tatlock  remarks  that  Chaucer  "would  have  begun  to  work  on  the 
Filostrato  .  .  .  with  no  intention  of  expanding  it  "  (p.  73).  But  the  evi- 
dence is  all  the  other  way.  The  first  thousand  lines  of  the  Troilus  correspond 
to  about  656  of  the  Filostrato,  and  that  is  a  slightly  larger  expansion  than  the 
work  shows  as  a  whole  (8246  lines  against  5704).  Mr.  Tatlock  remarks  that 
Chaucer  intended  to  finish  his  poem  in  the  fourth  book  (pp.  67,  note  1,  73). 
This,  however,  has  nothing  to  do  with  his  intention  at  the  outset.  It  is 
wholly  an  inference  (correct  or  not)  from  the  proem  to  Book  iv  itself. 


56  TEOILUS    LATER    THAN    HOUSE    OF  FAME. 

patches ;  they  are,  the  sonnet  excepted,  worked  into  the  texture  of 
the  whole,  and  even  the  sonnet  is  so  introduced  that  we  cannot 
regard  it  as  an  afterthought.  Clearly,  then,  the  varied  materials  that 
Chaucer  expected  to  use,  the  freedom  with  which  he  intended  to 
treat  them,  the  plan  and  scope — everything  essential  to  the  struc- 
ture of  the  work — were  in  Chaucer's  head  before  he  wrote  the  first 
verse.  But  this  is  not  all.  The  most  remarkable  tbing  about  the 
TroiluB — that  which  gives  it  a  well-recognized  claim  to  be  accounted 
a  distinct  novelty  in  our  literature — is  its  profound  and  sympa- 
thetic knowledge  of  human  nature  and  the  subtlety  and  power  with 
which  it  delineates  character.  The  Troilus  is  not  merely  "  perhaps 
the  most  beautiful  long  narrative  poem  in  our  literature  " :  it  is 
a  great  psychological  novel,  and  in  this  regard  it  is  strikingly 
different  from  Boccaccio's  romance.  Griseida  is  charming,  amorous, 
and  fickle — essentially,  however,  she  differs  in  nothing  from  the 
Briseida  of  Benoit.  But  Chaucer's  Criseyde  is  one  of  the  most 
complex  and  baffling  of  all  heroines,  yet  perfectly  natural  and  self- 
consistent  even  in  her  contradictions.  Now  it  cannot  be  proved 
that  Chaucer  had  fully  conceived  her  character  before  he  began  to 
write — for  its  complete  expression  is  possible,  from  the  conditions 
of  the  problem,  only  in  the  later  course  of  the  narrative, — though 
it  is  clearly  and  firmly  in  hand  no  later  than  the  early  part  of  the 
Second  Book.  But  one  fact,  equally  significant,  does  come  out  be- 
yond the  shadow  of  doubt  within  the  first  thousand  verses  of  the 
poem.  The  character  of  Pandarus— in  which  Chaucer  departs  quite 
as  strikingly  from  Boccaccio — has  a  chance  to  express  itself  within 
the  limits  that  we  are  considering,  and  it  does  express  itself.  Pan- 
darus, in  other  words,  was  in  Chaucer's  brain,  fully  conceived, 
before  he  began  to  write,  and  we  have  every  reason  to  infer 
the  same  of  the  other  dramatis  personae.1 

Manifestly,  then,  Chaucer  had  in  mind  when  he  took  pen  in 
hand,  not  only  the  composition  of  an  original  work,  in  which  other 
materials  should  be  combined  with  what  was  to  be  taken  from  the 
Filostrato,  but  he  had  also  in  mind  to  write  a  novel  of  character, 
and  he  had  the  dramatis  personae — who  differ  so  strikingly  -from 

1  Of  course  I  do  not  mean  to  deny  that  Chaucer's  conception  of  the  dramatis 
personae  deepened  and  grew  richer  as  the  work  went  on — that  is  always  the 
case  with  imaginative  wMters.  But  any  such  deepening  or  enriching  does 
not  make  against  what  has  just  been  stated.  It  appears,  if  at  all,  only  in  the 
intensification  with  which  the  character  of  each  actor  expresses  itself  in  word 
aud  deed  as  the  stress  of  circumstances  tends  to  bring  it  out. 


TROILUS   LATER   THAN    HOUSE   OF  FAME.  57 

Boccaccio's — firmly  and  definitely  imagined.  The  Troilus  comes 
of  "  entencion,"  not  of  "  chaunce  " ;  it  is  a  deliberate  creation,  not 
a  splendid  accident. 

Nothing,  then,  can  justify  us  in  regarding  the  Troilus  as  earlier 
than  the  House  of  Fame  except  definite  evidence.  Is  there  any 
such  evidence  ?  There  is  not  a  particle.  Mr.  Tatlock,  to  be  sure, 
fancies  that  the  passage  on  dreams  in  the  proem  to  the  First  Book 
of  the  House  of  Fame,  "  looks  greatly  like  an  expansion  "  of  that  ' 
in  the  Fifth  Book  of  the  Troilus?-  But  this  is  merely  begging  the 
question.  Each  of  the  passages  is  appropriate  to  its  context,  and 
grows  naturally  out  of  the  situation.  There  is  nothing  to  indicate 
which  of  them  was  written  first.2  The  idea  that  the  treatment  in 
the  House  of  Fame  is  an  expansion  of  that  in  the  Troilus  is 
shattered  by  the  evidence  adduced  by  Miss  Cipriani,  since  the 
publication  of  Mr.  Tatlock's  volume,  that  the  proem  in  the  House  of 
Fame  is  in  great  measure  translated  from  the  Roman  de  la  Rose? 

The  only  other  piece  of  evidence  which  Mr.  Tatlock  adduces  is 
the  mention  of  Lollius  in  the  House  of  Fame  among  writers  on  the 
Trojan  War.     Ten  Brink  was  the  first  to  urge  this  circumstance  aa\ 
proof  that  the  Troilus  is  the  earlier  of  the  two  poems,  and  Mr. ! 
Tatlock  follows  him.     Here  again  the  supposed  evidence  is  utterly  ' 
ambiguous.     Assume  that  the  Troilus  is  the  older,  and  it  follows 
that,  in  mentioning  Lollius  in  the  House  of  Fame,  Chaucer  was 

1  v,  358-85 ;  Tatlock,  p.  37. 

2  True,  Pandarus'  discourse  is  partly  from  the  Filostrato  and  "  grows  out 
of  the  situation  in  the  Troilus"  (Tatlock,  p.  37),  but  where  is  a  discussion  of 
dreams  more  appropriate  or  natural  than  in  the  prelude  to  an  account  of  the 
most  wonderful  dream  a  man  ever  had  (House  of  Fame,  vv.  59-65)  ?   To  in- 
troduce a  vision  by  insisting  on  the  marvellous  nature  of  the  dream  which 
one  is  going  to  describe  is  an  obvious  device,  which  Chaucer  had  already  used 
in  the  Book  of  the,  Duchess  (vv.  275-89).     By  the  way,  I  do  not  understand 
what  Mr.  Tatlock  means  by  his  remark  that  in  the  House  of  Fame  Chaucer 
"dwells  only  on  ill   causes  of  dreams"   (p.  37,  note  3).     Devotion  and 
contemplation  (vv.  33-34)  are  surely  not  bad  things.     And  how  about  vv. 
43-48  ? 

Or  if  the  soule,  of  proprekinde,  And  that  it  warneth  alle  and  some 

Be  so  parfit,  as  men  tinde,  Of  everich  of  her  aventures 

That  it  forwot  that  is  to  come  By  avisiouns  or  by  figures. 

Nor  is  he  right  in  saying  that  Pandarus  dwells  only  on  ill  causes,  for  this  is 
not  the  case  in  v,  372-7.  But  the  point  is  of  no  consequence  anyway.  The 
Troilus  passage  is  thoroughly  in  place,  but  no  more  so  than  the  prelude,  and 
it  is  idle  to  argue  that  either  looks  like  a  reminiscence  of  the  other.  Somnia 
ne  cures, 

3  Publications  of  the   Modern  Language  Association   of  America,  XXII, 
586-8.    Vv.    11-12,   15-18,  24-31,    33-42  correspond  rather  closely   to  the 
Jioman. 


58  TEOILUS   LATER    THAN   HOUSE   OF  FAME. 

alluding  to  his  previous  employment  of  the  name.  Assume,  on 
the  other  hand,  that  the  House  of  Fame  is  the  older,  and  it  follows 
that  Chaucer  mentioned  Lollius  therein  merely  because — for  what- 
ever reason — he  thought  he  was  a  writer  on  Trojan  history.  The 
second  assumption  is  j  list  as  good  as  the  first. 

Unfortunately,  however,  it  is  necessary  to  dwell  on  the  Lollius 
matter  a  little,  for  scholars  have  insisted  on  making  a  mystery  out 
of  it,  and  it  is  possible,  therefore,  that  the  complete  ambiguity  of 
the  mention  of  this  worthy  in  the  House  of  Fame  as  evidence  for 
the  chronology  of  Chaucer  may  not  be  admitted  without  further 
discussion. 

Who  is  Chaucer's  Lollius  ?  Let  us  first  see  who  he  is  not.  He 
is  neither  Petrarch  nor  Boccaccio.  He  is  simply  the  authority  from 
|  whom  Chaucer,  by  a  perfectly  lawful  literary  device — as  common 
I  now-a-days  as  it  ever  was — pretends  to  have  drawn  all  the  material 
/  for  his  Troilus,  as  well  that  which  he  made  up  himself  as  that 
which  he  derived  from  the  Filostrato.  Did  Chaucer  invent  the 
name  1  No,  for  it  is  a  real  name.  He  found  it  somewhere.  Did 
he  invent  the  idea  that  Lollius  was  an  authority  on  the  Trojan 
War1?  It  is  extremely  improbable,  for  there  is  a  well-known 
line  of  Horace  which,  with  the  slight  corruption  of  scriptor  for 
scriptorem,  afforded  ample  ground  for  the  belief  that  Lollius  was 
not  only  a  writer  on  that  subject,  but  a  very  great  writer  as  well. 
It  is,  then,  almost  certain  that  Chaucer — whether  he  had  seen  the 
verse  himself  in  a  corrupt  form,  or  had  blundered  in  reading  it,  or 
had  suffered  a  lapse  of  memory  about  it,  or  had  found  a  statement 
in  some  book  by  somebody  else  who  had  done  one  of  these  things — 
really  believed  that  there  once  lived  a  Lollius  who  composed  a  work 
on  the  Matter  of  Troy.  If  this  piece  of  erroneous  lore — which,  as 
we  have  seen,  he  might  have  acquired  in  any  of  at  least  half-a- 
dozen  ways — came  into  his  possession  before  he  wrote  the  House  of 
Fame,  it  was  natural  for  him  to  utilize  it  therein  when  he  was 
multiplying  names  in  true  mediaeval  fashion.  To  object  that  such 
a  reference  "  would  be  quite  unintelligible  "  to  his  readers  "unless 
the  Troilus  was  known  to  them  " *  is  neither  here  nor  there.  In 
the  first  place,  it  is  a  pure  assumption,  for  we  have  no  reason  to 
imagine  that  Chaucer  was  the  only  person  who  supposed  that 
Lollius  was  a  writer  on  Trojan  affairs.  In  the  second  place,  even 
if  it  were  admitted  that  the  name  was  previously  unknown  to 
1  See  Tatlock,  p.  37. 


TROILUS    LATER    THAN    HOUSE    OF   FAME.  59 

Chaucer's  readers,  would  that  have  made  the  passage  unintelligible 
to  them?  By  no  means,  for  the  passage  tells  its  own  story. 
Chaucer  informs  his  readers  that  Lollius  was  an  authority  on  the 
Trojan  War.  "What  more  could  a  mediaeval  reader  ask  1  What 
more,  indeed,  does  a  modern  reader  ask,  unless  he  has  the 
scholar's  artificially  cultivated  thirst  for  exhaustive  information1? 
But  that  is  not  all.  Medieval  writers  were  notoriously  fond  of 
piling  up  names  and  citing  authorities.  Was  it  necessary — in 
order  to  justify  Chaucer  in  his  own  or  his  readers'  eyes — that  every 
name  he  mentioned  should  be  obvious  and  popular  ?  Such  a  pro- 
position would  conduct  us  to  preposterous  conclusions.  Did  John 
of  Gaunt  and  his  family  know  all  about  the  Bret  Glascurion  and 
Eleanor  and  Lymote  and  Atiteris  and  Eclympasteyr  and  Agaton 
and  Hermes  Ballenus  1  Perhaps  so,  but  some  of  these  names  are 
puzzles  to  the  best  learning  of  to-day. 

It  appears,  then,  that  Chaucer's  use  of  the  name  Lollius  in  the 
House  of  Fame  and  the  Troilus  implies,  in  all  probability,  his 
belief  that  such  a  writer  on  the  Trojan  War  had  once  existed. 
Such  a  belief,  in  turn,  was  ground  enough  for  Chaucer's  numbering 
Lollius  among  the  worthies  in  the  House  of  Fame,  and  also  for  his 
employing  him  when,  for  whatever  reason,  he  desired  a  literary 
stalking-horse  in  the  Troilus.  No  inference  can  be  drawn  as  to 
which  of  these  poems  is  the  older. 

Clearly,  then,  neither  the  discourse  on  dreams  in  the  House  of 
Fame  nor  the  mention  of  Lollius  gives  any  handle  for  the  contention 
that  the  House  of  Fame  preceded  the  Troilus.  Yet  these  are  the 
only  bits  of  evidence  that  Mr.  Tatlock  adduces.  True,  he  appeals 
to  the  "  orthodox  "  view,  but  he  certainly  does  not  mean  to  rest  his 
case  on  that.  The  current  opinion,  which  we  may  call  "  orthodox  " 
if  we  like,  is  founded  on  the  supposed  allegory  in  the  House  of  Fame 
and  on  the  theory  that  Chaucer  looks  forward  to  that  poem  towards 
the  close  of  the  Troilus.  JSTow  the  allegory  is  a  mere  fancy ;  it 
rests  upon  nothing  but  air.  Mr.  Tatlock,  though  he  is  eager  to 
find  arguments  for  putting  the  House  of  Fame  after  the  Troilus, 
dismisses  the  allegorical  interpretation  without  ceremony.  "  All 
attempts,"  he  says,  "  to  read  a  subtle  personal  or  general  allegory 
into  the  poem  seem  to  me  worse  than  futile." 1  ISTor  is  it  any  longer 
possible  to  hold  that  Chaucer's  wish,  expressed  near  the  end  of  the 
Troilus,  "  to  make  in  some  comedye  "  forecasts  the  House  of  Fame 

1  P.  35. 


60  SUMMING-UP   OF    TRANSITION   PERIOD. 

or  is  in  any  manner  fulfilled  by  it.  That  theory  is  bound  up  with 
the  odd  notion  that  the  House  of  Fame  is  modelled  on  the  Divine 
Comedy.1  It  has  had  astonishing  vogue,  but  Mr.  Tatlock  frankly 
abandons  it,  despite  the  fact  that  its  acceptance  would  settle  the 
case  in  his  favor.  With  the  vanishing  of  these  two  phantoms, 
every  conceivable  reason  for  holding  the  "  orthodox  opinion " 
dissolves  into  thin  air,  and  we  are  left  with  only  the  criterion 
of  comparative  excellence  or  comparative  maturity.  This — in  the 
absence  of  all  testimony  to  the  contrary — is  decisive.  So  far  as 
we  can  tell,  the  House  of  Fame  was  written  before  the  Troilus. 

Let  us  now  sum  up  the  results  of  our  rather  long  investigation 
of  Chaucer's  doings  in  the  Transition  Period.  We  have  found  that 
from  the  time  of  his  return  from  Italy  to  1375,  he  was  full  of 
business,  and,  during  a  considerable  portion  of  that  period,  much 
unsettled.  Then,  during  1375  and  1376,  we  have  a  couple  of 
years  of  routine  occupation,  which  left  him  his  evenings — and  his 
evenings  only — for  reading,  study,  and  composition.  We  have 
also  found  that — since  there  is  no  reason  to  date  Gower's  Troilus 
passage  later  than  (say)  October  1,  1377,  and  since  about  three 
months  may  be  estimated  as  the  time  necessary  for  Chaucer's  Troilus 
to  achieve  popularity,2  and  since  during  the  first  six  months  of 
1377  Chaucer  was  thrice  sent  abroad — the  whole  of  1377  is 
accounted  for,  and  therefore  Chaucer's  Troilus  must  have  been 
finished  as  early  as  December,  1376,  in  order  to  have  been  alluded 
to — on  grounds  of  obviousness  and  popularity — in  v.  5245  of  the 
Mirour.  Thus  only  the  time  from  January  1,  1375,  to  the  last  of 
December,  1376 — or  two  years — is  left  free  for  the  composition  of 
the  Troilus.  And,  finally,  we  have  found  that  three  poems — the 
St.  Cecilia,  the  Tragedies,  and  the  House  of  Fame  must,  in  all 
probability,  fall  within  the  Transition  Period, — that  is,  the  period 

1  For  a  full  discussion  (and  rejection)  of  the  supposed  allegory  as  well  as  of 
the   idea   that  the  House  of  Fame  is  modelled  on  the  Divine  Comedy,  see 
Sypherd,  Studies  in  Chaucer's   Hous  of  Fame  (Chaucer  Society,  1907),  pp. 
156  ff.  (references,  p.  156,  note  1).     The  Dante  theory  is  vigorously  combated 
by  Lounsbury,  Studies  in  Chaucer,  II,  242  ff.  ;  cf.  also  Robinson,  Journal  of 
Comparative  Literature,  I,  292  ff. 

2  This  proviso  of  "  obviousness  and  popularity  "  is  vital  to  Dr.  Tatlock'a 
theory,  as  he  very  clearly  realizes.     Abandon  that  proviso  and  the  hypothesis 
that  Gower's  mention  of  ' '  the  story  of  Troylus  and  the  fair  Creseide  [with  C]  " 
was  prompted  by  something  that  Chaucer  had  told  him  about  the  Filostrato, 
or  that  Gower  made  the  change  from  B  to  C  of  his  own  motion,  and  on  the  basis 
of  his  Ovidian  knowledge,  at  once  asserts  itself  as  an  unassailable  explanation 
for  the  Troilus  passage  in  the  Mirour. 


CONCLUSION.  61 

following  Chaucer's  return  from  Italy  and  preceding  the  composition 
of  his  first  great  poem  in  the  Italian  manner — whether  it  be  the 
Palamon  or  the  Troilus.  Manifestly,  all  the  time  that  Chaucer  had 
for  study,  literary  planning,  and  actual  composition,  from  1374  to 
1377  or  1378  is  accounted  for,  and  more  than  accounted  for. 
Indeed,  Mr.  Tatlock  himself  admits  that  it  "  is  quite  impossible  'to 
put  between  1374  and  1377  a  poem  so  long  and  showing  such 
familiarity  with  Dante  as  the  House  of  J^ame,"and  that  is,  he  says, 
the  "  chief  reason  "  why  he  dates  'the  House  of  Fame  later  than 
the  Troilus.  It  is  quite  clear  that  only  the  most  unequivocal 
testimony  can  justify  us  in  assigning  the  completion  of  so  mature 
a  work  as  the  Troilus  to  so  early  a  date  as  1376  or  1377.  There 
is  no  such  testimony.  The  sole  evidence  for  such  a  date  is  a  C 
instead  of  a  B  in  Gower's  Mirour.  And  that  evidence,  as  we  have 
seen,  is  susceptible  of  several  explanations  which  free  it  from  all 
entanglement  with  Chaucer's  Troilus. 

It  is  all  a  question  of  probabilities.  Let  us  not  forget  that. 
Still,  most  questions  that  one  has  to  decide  in  this  life  are  settled 
on  no  better  criterion  than  likelihood.  And  we  need  therefore  feel 
few  qualms  in  coming  to  a  decision.  What  that  decision  must  be, 
can  hardly  be  doubtful.  Mr.  Tatlock  has  not  made  out  his  case. 
We  cannot  accept  the  form  Creseide  instead  of  Briseida  in  Gower 
as  sufficient  ground — and  there  is  no  other — for  believing  that 
Chaucer's  Troilus  was  completed,  or  even  that  it  was  begun  or 
planned,  in  1376  or  1377. 

Throughout  the  foregoing  discussion  we  have  taken  for  granted 
the  correctness  of  the  date — 1377 — which  Mr.  Tatlock  assigns  to 
Gower's  Troilus  passage.  This  is  the  latest  year  to  which  we  can 
reasonably  assign  it,  since  vv.  2142-8  (about  3000  lines  earlier) 
were  certainly  written  before  the  death  of  Edward  III  in  June, 
1377,1 — how  long  before,  it  is  impossible  to  say, — and  since  the 
whole  poem  of  about  31000  verses  was  finished  by  June,  1381,  and 
probably  some  tii^e  before.2  The  earlier  the  date  of  the  Troilus 
passage,  the  greater  the  difficulty  of  Mr.  Tatlock's  case.  In  closing, 
therefore,  I  must  point  out  that  1377  is  by  no  means  an  ascertained 
figure.  Tor  aught  we  know,  the  Troilus  passage  in  the  Mirour  may 
have  been  written  in  1376  or  even  in  1375.  Still,  I  am  content 
to  rest  the  argument  on  1377,  the  date  which  Mr.  Tatlock  prefers. 

1  Macaulay,  I,  xlii ;  Tatlock,  p.  222. 

2  See  Appendix  VI,  below. 


62  APPENDIX   I. 


APPENDICES. 

APPENDIX   I. 

SUMMARY  OF  BENOIT'S  ROMAN  DE  TROIE,  vv.  12931-21744,  BEING 
THAT  PORTION  OF  THE  POEM  WHICH  INCLUDES  THE  STORY  OF 
TROILUS  AND  BRISEIDA. 

(The  verses  are  numbered  as  in  Joly's  edition.  Italics  designate 
those  passages  which  are  not  a  part  of  the  tale  of  Troilus  and  his 
love.  Some  of  these  passages,  however,  might  be  claimed,  in  part, 
for  the  Troilus  story.) 

12931-12986  (56  lines).  In  a  conference  between  the  Greeks 
and  the  Trojans  with  regard  to  an  exchange  of  prisoners,  Caleb  as 
asks  for  the  restoration  of  Briseida.  Priam  agrees  after  an 
acrimonious  debate  with,  the  seer. 

12987-13234  (^48  lines).  Same  day.  Magnificent  appearance 
of  Hector  and  his  train.1  Achilles  addresses  him  in  a  bitter  and 
threatening  speech.  Hector  challenges  Achilles  to  single  combat  to 
end  the  war.  Achilles  is  eager  to  accept,  but  neither  the  Greeks  nor 
the  Trojans  will  allow  it. 

13235-13830  (596  lines).  Same  day.  Troilus,  who  is  deeply 
in  love  with  Briseida,  is  sad  because  she  is  to  be  sent  to  the 
Grecian  camp.  Lament  of  Briseida  when  she  hears  that  she  must 
leave  Troilus.  He  visits  her  that  night;  they  spend  the  night 
in  grieving. — Next  morning  (13301)  Briseida  makes  ready  for 
departure.  Long  description  of  her  rich  attire,  She  takes  leave 
of  her  friends.  Troilus  leads  her  horse.  She  is  sorrowful,  but 
by-and-by  she  will  be  comforted  with  a  new  lover  ;  reflections  on 
woman's  inconstancy.  Troilus  begs  her  to  be  true.  Diomedes  and 
others  receive  her  outside  the  walls,  and  Troilus  returns  to  the  city. 
Diomedes,  who  escorts  Briseida,  pays  his  court  to  her  in  a  long 
speech,  to  which  she  replies  discreetly ;  he  continues  to  press  his 
suit  till  they  arrive  at  the  tents.  Briseida  reproaches  her  father 

1  This  account  of  Hector  and  his  train  belongs  to  the  second  redaction  (see 
Constans's  edition,  II,  277-8.) 


SUMMARY    OF   BEXOIT,    12931-21744.  63 

for  deserting  the  Trojans ;  he  defends  his  conduct.  The  Greek 
chieftains  pay  her  visits  of  ceremony.  Before  the  fourth  evening 
she  had  lost  all  her  desire  to  go  back  to  Troy. 

18881-14218  (888  lines}.  The  truce  comes  to  an  end.  A  great 
fight  (8th  'battle),  in  which,  on  the  Trojan  side,  Hector  and 
Troilus  distinguish  themselves  particularly. 

14219-14431  (211  lines).  Diomedes  joins  battle  with  Troilus 
"por  la  pucele"  (14239),  unhorses  him,  and  sends  his  steed  to 
Briseida.  The  messenger  presents  the  horse  in  a  little  speech, 
telling  her  that  it  is  a  love-token  from  his  master,  and  informing 
her  how  Diomedes  won  it.  She  replies,  praising  Troilus  and 
sending  word  to  Diomedes  that  he  may  expect  reprisals.  The 
battle  continues.  Polydamas  unhorses  Diomedes  and  sends  his 
steed  to  Troilus.  Troilus,  armed  with  a  lance  on  which  is  a 
gonfanon  which  Briseida  had  given  him,  plunges  into  the  fight,  and 
encounters  Achilles,  whom  he  comes  near  killing. 

14432-14926  (495  lines}.  Further  account  of  the  8th  battle,  which 
lasted  thirty  days.  A  truce  for  six  months.  Goz  cures  Hector's 
wounds,  in  "  la  chambre  de  VAmbastrie."  Elaborate  description  of 
this  chamber  and  its  marvels  (1 45 8 3-1 487 4) •  Paris  goes  hunting. 
The  Greeks  are  tired  of  the  long  siege,  but  the  young  men  like  it,  for 
it  gives  them  a  chance  to  gain  credit  with  their  amies.  Achilles 
nurses  his  wrath  against  Hector. 

14927-15112  (186  lines).  Diomedes  gets  no  rest  or  comfort 
out  of  the  truce,  for  he  is  tortured  by  love  for  Briseida.  She, 
knowing  that  he  loves  her,  is  thrice  as  cruel  to  him  on  that  account. 
Often  he  goes  to  beg  mercy  of  her,  but  in  vain.  One  day  he  asks 
her  to  return  the  horse  that  he  had  given  her.  She  replies  in  a 
coquettish  speech,  taunting  him  with  having  lost  his  own  horse, 
and  suggesting  that  Troilus  will  win  this  one  back  if  he  is  not 
careful.  Diomedes  replies  seriously,  and  urges  his  love.  She  is 
glad,  and  gives  him  her  sleeve  to  wear  as  a  gonfanon.  Her  love 
for  Troilus  is  cassee. 

15113-15547  (435  lines}.  The  six  months1  truce  is  finished; 
twelve  days  of  fighting  ensue  (9th  battle)  ;  then  thirty  days  of  truce. 
Andromache's  dream.  She  tries  in  vain  to  persuade  Hector  to  keep 
out  of  the  fight.  At  last  Hector  yields  to  Priam's  supplication. 
The  10th  battle  begins. 

15548-15650  (103  lines).  Combat  between  Troilus  and 
Diomedes,  the  latter  wearing  Briseida's  sleeve  on  his  lance.  The 


64  APPENDIX    I. 

combat  is  interrupted  by  the  coining  of  Menelaus.  Troilus  is 
called  off  by  Polydamas  to  aid  the  king  of  Frise,  whom  they 
rescue. 

15651-20056  (4406  lines}.  The  10th  battle  continued.  Dis- 
comfiture of  the  Trojans.  They  rally,  but  are  driven  into  the  city. 
Hector  renews  the  fight  and  wounds  Achilles.  Later,  Achilles 
attacks  Hector,  who  is  dragging  a  prisoner  "par  la,  ventaille" 
(16169),  and  kills  him.  The  Trojans  are  driven  back  again. 
Lamentation  of  the  Trojans  for  Hector.  Truce  for  two  months 
(16565).  Hector's  funeral ;  description  of  his  tomb,  etc.  Palamedes 
supersedes  Agamemnon  as  Grecian  leader ;  indignation  of  Achilles. 
End  of  the  truce  (16999). — More  hard  fighting  (llth  battle).— 
Another  truce  (17311).  Achilles  falls  in  love  with  Polyxena.  His 
negotiations  with  Priam  and  Hecuba.  Failing  to  induce  the 
Greeks  to  make  peace,  he  withdraws  from  all  share  in  the  war  and 
forbids  his  followers  to  fight. — End  of  the  truce  (18455).  Great 
(12th)  battle ;  death  of  Deiphobus  and  Palamedes ;  Paris  and 
Troilus  set  fire  to  the  ships  (18890)  which  are  saved  by  Ajax.1 
Achilles  ignores  the  request  of  the  Greeks  that  he  take  part  in  the 
war.  Agamemnon  elected  leader.  Battle  takes  place  next  day 
(18th  battle)  (19077  /.).  Troilus  puts  the  Greeks  to  flight.  Next 
day  the  fight  is  renewed,  Troilus  performing  wonders.  It  continues 
for  a  week  (19360). — Truce  for  two  months  (19868).  Another 
vain  attempt  to  induce  Achilles  to  take  part  in  the  war.  Calchas 
persuades  the  Greeks  not  to  make  peace  (19911  ff.)  Truce  ends. 
The  next  (14th)  battle  is  advantageous  to  the  Trojans.  Exploits  of 
Troilus.— The  15th  battle  begins  within  a  week  (200 Jfi)  and  the 
Trojans  fight  well. 

20057-20097  (41  lines).2  Troilus  encounters  Diomedes  and 
wounds  him  desperately,  so  that  he  is  carried  off  the  field  for  dead. 

1  The  account  of  the  saving  of  the  ships  by  Ajax  ends  with  v.  18958  Joly 
(  =  ]  8976  Constans).     The  attempt  of  the  Greeks  to  persuade  Achilles  to  fight, 
which  is  properly  the  next  incident,  is  postponed  by  Joly  until  after  the 
beginning  of  the  13th  battle,  because  of  an  error  in  his  MS.     I  follow  the 
order  in  Constans,  but  use  Joly's  verse-numbers  in  citing,  as  usual.     The 
following  table  make  the  difference  of  order  clear  : — 

Constans  Joly 

18976   ....  18958 

18977-19087  .     .  19167-19277 

19088-19294  .     .  18960  (18959  blank)-19166 

19295  ....  19279  (19278  blank) 

2  Vv.  20057-20064  in  Joly  are  omitted  by  Constans. 


SUMMARY    OF    BENOIT,    12931-21744.  65 

Troilus  addresses  him  "en  reprovier":  "Galenas'  daughter,  who, 
they  say,  does  not  hate  you — It  is  her  treachery  to  me  that  has 
brought  this  upon  you,"  etc.  His  words  were  well  remembered 
both  by  the  Trojans  and  by  the  Greeks. 

20098-20193  (96  lines).  The  battle  goes  on.  Agamemnon 
'wounded  by  Troilus.  Truce  for  six  months  at  the  request  of  the 
Greeks. 

20194-20330  (137  lines).  Grief  of  Briseida  for  the  wounded 
Diomedes.  She  can  no  longer  conceal  her  love,  but  visits  him 
often.  She  upbraids  herself  for  being  false  to  Troilus,  but  resolves 
to  be  true  to  Diornedes  at  all  events. 

20331-20653  (323  lines}.  Time  of  truce.  Achilles,  once  mor'e 
besought  to  help  his  friends,  promises  to  send  the  Myrmidons.  New 
(16th)  battle.  Troilus  gains  the  day  for  the  Trojans.  He  is 
greatly  honored. 

20654-20670  (17  lines).  Troilus  is  troubled  at  the  thought  of 
his  love  who  has  abandoned  him.  Briseida  is  hated  by  the  damsels 
for  the  disgrace  she  has  brought  upon  them. 

20671-21012  (34^  lines).  Love  pangs  of  Achilles.— The  17th 
battle  begins  (20805).  Prowess  of  Troilus.  A  brief  truce. — The 
18th  battle  (20867). 

21013-21175  (163  lines).  The  Myrmidons  are  put  to  flight  by 
Troilus.  Achilles  rushes  into  the  fight.  He  encounters  Troilus. 
Both  are  unhorsed.  Their  horses  fall  upon  them,  and  Achilles  is 
severely  wounded  by  his  hauberk.  Troilus  captures  his  horse. 
The  battle  continues  for  a  week,  and  Troilus  "le  pris  en  ot." 

21176-21225  (50  lines).  Wrath  of  Priam  and  grief  of  Polyxena 
at  the  reappearance  of  Achilles. 

21226-21484  (259  lines).  The  19th  battle.  Achilles  is 
determined  to  be  revenged  on  Troilus.  He  bids  the  Myrmidons 
keep  together  and  attack  him.  Troilus  discomfits  the  Greeks,  but 
the  Myrmidons  surround  him.  His  horse  is  killed,  and  Troilus 
falls.  Before  he  can  rise  Achilles  is  upon  him.  Death  of  Troilus. 
His  body  is  rescued  by  Memnon  after  Achilles  has  dragged  it  at  his 
horse's  tail. 

21485-21652  (168  lines).  Prowess  of  Memnon.  Achilles  retires 
wounded.  The  battle  lasts  a  week.  Achilles,  by  the  aid  of  the 
Myrmidons,  kills  Memnon.  More  jighting. 

21653-21744  (92  lines).  The  mourning  for  Troilus.  Hecuba's 
lament. 

DATE    OF   C.   T.  F 


66  APPENDIX    II. 


APPENDIX   II. 
THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  TROILUS  STORY  IN 

BENOIT  found  in  Dares  a  description  of  Briseicla  2  at  the  end  of 
the  portraits  of  the  principal  Greek  chieftains.  This  was  all  he 
knew  about  her,  for  beyond  question  he  did  not  understand  that 
she  was  identical  with  Astynome,  daughter  of  Brises,  about  whom 
Dictys  gives  much  information.  Dictys  does  not  use  the  form 
Briseis  (Briseida,  JBriseidam)  at  all,  and  therefore  Benoit,  not 
knowing  that  Briseidam  means  "  daughter  of  Brises,"  failed  to 
recognize  in  the  Briseida  described  by  Dares  the  Hippodamia, 
daughter  of  Brises,  of  whom  Dictys  speaks.  That  he  did  not  so 
recognize  her  is  shown  by  the  remarkable  fact  (which  has  attracted 
little  attention)  that,  though  he  omits  in  its  proper  chrono- 
logical place  the  account  which  Dictys  gives  of  the  capture  by. 
Achilles  of  Astynome,  daughter  of  Chryses,  and  Hippodamia, 
daughter  of  Brises,  and  the  narrative  of  the  reclaiming  of  Astynome 
by  Chryses  and  the  consequent  seizure  of  Hippodamia  by  Agamem- 
non, he  nevertheless  reproduces  this  whole  account  later  in  his 
narrative.  He  brings  it  in  as  a  part  of  the  well-nigh  interminable 
speech  made  by  Ajax  Thelamon  in  his  dispute  witli  Ulysses  over 
the  possession  of  the  Palladium3 — a  dispute  which  replaces  Ovid's 
account  of  the  quarrel  over  the  shield  of  Achilles.4  Ajax  declares 
that  Achilles  would  deserve  the  Palladium  if  he  were  alive,  and  in 
support  of  this  assertion  he  takes  occasion  to  rehearse  the  merits  of 
the  dead  hero.5  Thus  he  reproduces  in  considerable  detail  the 
account  which  Dictys  gives  of  the  capture  of  the  two  girls,  of  the 

1  Compare  the  remarks  of  Joly,  I,  287  ff.,  which  coutain  many  excellent 
observations. 

2  The  name  occurs  only  once  in  Dares  (cap.  13),  and  then  in  the  accusative 
Briseidam,  whence  Benoit  derived  his  nominative  Briseida. 

3  Vv.  26586  ff. 

4  Dares  of  course  does  not  mention  this  dispute.     Dictys  reports  it  briefly 
(v,  14-15)^  substituting  the  Palladium  for  the  arms  of  Achilles.     He  does  not 
give  the  speeches  of  the  rivals,  though  he  says  that    "Ulixes   cum  Aiace 
surnma  vi  contendere  inter  se,  atque  invicem  industriae  meritis  exposl  ulare. " 
It  occurred  to  Benoit  to  have  recourse  for  material  to  an  earlier  part  01  the 
narrative  of  Dictys. 

5  Vv.  26707  ff. 


GENESIS  OP  BENOIT'S  TROILUS  STORY.  67 

request  of  Chryses  that  Astynome  be  delivered  up,  of  the  pestilence, 
of  Agamemnon's  final  yielding,  and  of  the  taking  away  of  Hippo- 
damia,  daughter  of  Brises,  by  Agamemnon.1  There  cannot  be 
a  moment's  doubt  in  the  mind  of  anybody  who  compares  Benoit 
with  Dictys  that  the  former  derived  his  information  from  the 
latter.  But  Benoit  had  already  inserted  the  love  story  of  Troilus 
and  Briseida — his  own  invention — and  had  represented  Briseixla 
as  the  daughter  of  Calchas  the  Trojan  refugee.  Evidently,  then, 
he  did  not  suspect  that  the  Briseida  mentioned  so  briefly  by  Dares 
and  the  Hippodamia,  daughter  of  Brises,  so  fully  dealt  with  by 
Dictys,  were  in  reality  one  and  the  same.  His  error  was  natural^ — 
indeed,  almost  inevitable — and  it  was  a  fortunate  mistake  for 
literature,  since  we  owe  to  it  not  only  his  delightful  episode  of 
Troilus  and  Briseida,  but  also  Boccaccio's  Filostrato,  Chaucer's 
Troilus,  and  Shakspere's  Troilus  and  Cressida.  It  would  be  hard 
to  cite  another  example  equally  striking  of  the  advantage  which 
art  may  derive  from  absence  of  scholarship. 

Briseida,  then,  was  to  Benoit  a  person  quite  unconnected  with 
the  story  of  Chryses  and  his  daughter,  quite  unconnected  with  the 
wrath  of  Peleus'  son.  He  could  do  with  her  as  he  would,  and  he 
chose  to  represent  her  as  the  unfaithful  love  of  Troilus.  Obviously 
he  was  prompted  to  this  invention  by  three  things, — the  portraits 
which  Dares  gives  of  Briseida  and  Troilus,2  the  emphasis  which 
Dares  lays  upon  Troilus'  valor,3  and  the  feeling  that  so  great  a  hero 
should  have  a  love  as  his  brothers  Paris  and  Hector  had.  It 
should  also  be  remembered  that  his  sources,  Dares  and  Dictys, 
provided  Hector,  Paris,  and  Achilles  with  very  interesting  lady- 
loves.4 Two  other  characters  on  whose  heroic  qualities  great  stress 
is  laid  in  Dictys  and  Dares  are  Troilus  on  the  Trojan  side  (in 
Dares)  and  Diomedes  on  the  Grecian  (in  both).  It  went  against 
the  grain  for  Benoit  to  leave  these  heroes  unprovided  with  amies. 
But  there  was  no  interesting  female  character  left  for  them  in  the 
sources  except  Briseida.  Instead,  therefore,  of  needlessly  inventing 
a  new  dramatis  persona,  Benoit,  by  a  happy  inspiration,  hit  upon 
the  idea  of  making  Briseida  love  them  both,5  and  the  great  story  of 

1  Vv.  26747  if.  2  Caps.  12,  13. 

3  Dares  exalts  Troilus  as  the  equal  of  Hector  in  prowess  (caps.  7,  30  ; 
cf.  caps.  18,  20,  24,  29,  31,  32,  33).  After  Hector's  death  he  becomes  the 
leading  champion  on  the  Trojan  side.  In  Dictys  Troilus  is  barely  mentioned 
-fiv,  9).  4  See  also  Joly,  I,  274. 

5  Dares  brings  Troilus  and  Diomedes  together  in  battle  and  makes  Troilus 
wound  Diomedes  (cap.  31).  Cf.  Joly  I,  293. 

DATE    OF    C.  T.  F  2 


68  APPENDIX    II. 

"  supplantacionn "  (to  use  Gower's  word)  sprang  into  existence. 
After  all,  the  credit  of  inspiring  Benoit  is  due  in  the  last  analysis 
to  the  celebrated  "portraits"  in  Dares.  These  describe  five 
women, — Hecuba,  Andromache,  Cassandra,  Polyxena,  and  Briseida. 
Hecuba,  Cassandra,1  Andromache,  and  Polyxena  had  husbands  or 
lovers.  Only  Briseida  was  left — the  utterly  charming  Briseida, 
"beautiful,  not  tall  in  stature,  a  blonde,  with  soft  golden  hair, 
with  eyebrows  that  joined,  with  lovely  eyes  and  a  graceful  figure, 
soft-spoken,  affable,  modest,  simple-hearted,  affectionate."  Such 
a  girl  could  not  go  through  the  Trojan  War  without  a  lover. 

Benoit's  interest  in  Briseida,  then,  was  roused  by  the  portrait 
sketched  by  Dares.  But  Dares  afforded  him  no  further  information 
about  her, — except  the  inference  that  she  was  a  Greek, — and 
Dictys,  so  far  as  Benoit  could  see,  did  not  mention  her  at  all. 
Benoit  determined  to  make  Briseida  an  important  personage, — to 
invent  a  history  for  her.  It  is  easy  to  see  how  his  mind  worked. 
If  she  was  to  be  Troilus'  love,  it  was  natural  to  regard  her  as 
a  Trojan ;  yet  Dares  had  attached  her  name  to  a  list  of  Greeks. 
It  was  natural,  then,  for  Benoit  to  represent  her  as  a  Trojan 
woman  who  came  in  some  way  to  be  a  resident  of  the  Grecian 
camp.  For  this  he  had  two  precedents  in  Dictys, — that  of 
Astynome,  daughter  of  Chryses,  and  that  of  Hippodamia  (whom 
Benoit  did  not  recognize  as  identical  with  the  Briseida  of  Dictys).2 
He  might  have  made  her — like  Astynome  and  Hippodamia — a 
captive,  assigned  to  one  of  the  Greek  leaders  as  a  slave.  But  this 
would  have  been  mere  repetition ;  there  were  two  slave  girls  in 
the  story  already, — and  besides,  it  made  her  more  dignified  as  well 
as  more  interesting  to  represent  her  as  a  free  gentlewoman. 
Troilus  was  a  hero  comparable  to  Hector,3  and  Benoit  was  too 
good  an  artist  to  spoil  his  invention — when  he  had,  as  in  this  case, 
a  free  hand,  not  being  hampered  by  any  account  of  her  in  his 
sources — by  describing  Troilus'  lady  as  a  mere  chattel.  Hence  he 
hit  upon  the  happy  idea  of  representing  her  father  as  a  Trojan 
deserter  or  refugee,  and  of  accounting  for  her  presence  in  the 

1  Cassandra   is   betrothed   to   Eurypylus   (Dictys,  iv,  14)  and   afterwards 
becomes  the  spoil  of  Agamemnon  (Dictys,  v,  13  ;  Benoit,  vv.  26195  ff.). 

2  The  fact  that  these  two  were  not,  strictly  speaking,  Trojans  need  not  be 
pressed.     They  were  captives  taken   by  the  Greeks  and   were   regarded   as 
belonging,  in  a  general  way,  to  the  Trojan  party. 

3  Dares,  caps.  7,  30  ;   cf.  Bennit,  vv.   3972-6,   5417-23,  19893-904.     See 
also  Hamilton,  Chaucer's  Indebtedness  to  Guido  delle  Colonne,  p.  76  ;  Young, 
The  Origin  and  Development  of  the  Story  of  Troilus  and  Criseyde,  pp.  108-11. 


GENESIS  OF  BENOIT'S  TROILUS  STORY.  69 

Grecian  camp  by  her  father's  natural  wish  to  have  her  with  him. 
Of  course  she  had  to  have  a  father,  now  that  she  was  to  be  raised 
to  a  position  of  dignity  and  importance  in  the  plot,  'and  to  assign 
to  her  in  this  capacity  a  Trojan  refugee  of  high  station  was  a 
natural  device.  Here,  too,  Benoit  was  indebted  to  Dictys  for 
a  hint.  There  was  Chryses,  a  priest  of  Apollo  whose  natural 
sympathies  were  with  the  Trojans,  but  who  had  to  all  intents  and 
purposes  joined  the  Greek  side,  and  this  Chryses  had  a  daughter 
(Astynome)  from  whom  he  had  been  separated  by  the  fortunes  of 
war  and  whom  he  wished  to  recover.  Chryses,  too,  was  a  person 
of  importance  who  had  served  the  Greeks  very  materially  by 
taking  charge  of  the  sacrifice  of  a  hecatomb  necessary,  according  to 
the  oracle,  for  the  final  success  of  the  Grecian  arms.  But  Chryses 
would  not  do  for  Briseida's  father,  since  he  already  had  a  daughter 
of  his  own  whose  story  Benoit  intended  to  utilize — and  did  utilize 
— when  the  time  came.  Benoit  therefore  had  either  to  invent 
a  new  character  or  to  assign  to  Briseida  as  her  father  some 
personage  already  in  the  story.  The  latter  course  was  the  easier 
and  the  more  obvious,  and  he  adopted  it.  Both  Dares  and  Dictys 
told  him  of  "Calchas,  son  of  Thestor."  Dictys  represented  Calchas 
as  a  Grecian  (Acarnanian)  seer 1  and  chieftain,  who  accompanied  the 
Grecians  to  Troy  with  twenty  ships.2  From  Dares,  however, 
Benoit  learned  that  Calchas  was  a  Trojan3  diviner,  who,  being 
sent  by  his  people  to  Delphi  with  gifts,  consulted  the  oracle  "  de 
regno  rebusque  suis,"  and  got  a  response  commanding  him  to  join 
the  Greeks,  and  to  urge  them  not  to  give  up  until  they  had  taken 
Troy.  In  the  temple  he  met  Achilles,  who  was  consulting  the  oracle 
on  behalf  of  the  Greeks.  Achilles  and  Calchas  compare  notes, 
and  Calchas,  obedient  to  the  oracle,  accompanies  Achilles  to  Athens, 
where  the  Greeks  are  waiting,  joins  them,  is  gladly  received,  and 
accompanies  them  to  Troy.  Here  was  precisely  the  character  that 
Benoit  needed  for  Briseida's  father,  and  he  grasped  thankfully  at 
the  idea.  There  was  no  difficulty  in  making  the  combination, 

1  "Calchas,  Thestoris  filius,  praescius  futurorum"  (Dictys,  i,  15). 

2  Dictys,  i,  17  (see  Dederich's  note,  p.  394) ;  cf.  Iliad,  i,  69-72. 

3  Dares  (cap.  15)  represents  Calchas  as  a  Phrygian  ("dona  propter  Phrygas 
a  suo  populo  missus  Apollini  portabat ")  ;  but  he  seems  to  have  regarded  him 
as  a  Trojan  in  the  strict  sense,  since  he  says  that  he  consulted  the  oracle  "  de 
regno  rebusque  suis"  and  received  command  to  join  the  Greeks  and  urge  them 
to   stick   to   their  task.     At   all   events,  Benoit   so  understood   Dares.     In 
translating  the  passage  he  says  of  Calcas  (so  he  spells),  "  Filz  ert  Testor  [var. 
Nestor]  un  Troien  "  (v.  5813). 


70  APPENDIX    II. 

since,  as  we  have  seen,  Briseida  was  the  mere  "portrait  of  a  lady" 
in  Dares  and  (as  Benoit  believed)  was  not  mentioned  by  Dictys  in 
any  manner.  For  the  combination,  too,  he  had  a  precedent  in  the 
story  of  Chryses  and  his  daughter.  Accordingly,  he  adopted  the 
account  of  the  meeting  of  Calchas  and  Achilles  as  reported  by 
Dares,  and  definitively  put  the  Trojan  seer  into  the  position  of 
a  (blameless)  Trojan  refugee. 

How  well  this  fitted  the  invention  which  Benoit  intended  to 
introduce  later  comes  out  in  a  striking  fashion  when  we  observe 
that  since  Calchas,  when  he  left  Troy  to  visit  Delphi  on  public 
business,  had  no  idea  of  deserting  to  the  Greeks,  it  follows  that  he 
must  have  left  his  family,  if  he  had  one,  at  home  in  the  city. 
Thus  the  separation  between  him  and  Briseida  comes  about 
naturally,  and  the  incident  of  his  urging  that  his  daughter  be  sent 
to  the  Grecian  camp — so  necessary  to  Benoit's  purpose — is  inevitable. 
Benoit,  however, — who  has  great  merits  as  a  story-teller,  which 
appear  to  good  advantage  in  the  tale  of  Troilus  and  Briseida,  where, 
as  we  know,  he  had  a  free  hand, — is  careful  to  lay  due  emphasis 
on  the  motives  which  led  Calchas  to  ask  that  his  daughter  be  sent 
to  him : 

Ne  voleit  pas  (Tore  en  avant 
Qu'  ele  fust  plus  en  lor  commune, 
Car  trop  les  het,  90  set,  Fortune  ; 
Si  ne  vueut  pas  qu'  o  eus  perisse, 
En  1'ost  o  lui  vueut  que  s'en  isse.1 

It  appears  also  that  Briseida  has  been  in  some  danger  since  her 
father's  change  of  sides,  for  Priam  declares  angrily  that  but  for  her 
beauty  and  excellent  qualities  she  would  have  been  "  burned  and 
torn  to  pieces  "  2  on  account  of  his  treasonable  conduct. 

The  more  we  examine  the  details  of  the  Troilus  story  as  devised 
by  Benoit,  the  greater  will  be  our  admiration  for  the  felicity  of  his 
invention  and  for  the  skill  which  he  has  used  in  fitting  his  novel 
fiction  into  the  facts  (as  he  regarded  them)  which  he  derived  from 
his  sources.  He  contrives  to  attach  the  new  episode  to  his  old 
materials  without  interfering  with  the  integrity  of  the  latter.  The 
only  point,  indeed,  in  which  he  is  obliged  actually  to  change  his 
sources  (as  opposed  to  adding  to  them)  is  in  the  trifling  matter 

1  Vv.  12960  ff. 

2  Se  por  90  non  que  la  pucele 

Est  franche  et  proz  e  sage  e  bele, 

Por  lui  [sc.  Calcas]  fust  arse  e  desmembree  (vv.  12977  ff.). 


GENESIS  OF  BENOIT'S  TROILUS  STORY.  71 

(vital  to  his  new  plot)  of  changing  Briseida's  nationality  from 
Greek  to  Trojan.1 

In  one  particular  Benoit  may  be  charged  with  an  inconsistency. 
He  introduces  Briseida's  portrait  at  the  end  of  the  Grecian  list 
instead  of  transferring  it  to  the  Trojan  catalogue,  and  he  even 
emphasizes  its  position  by  saying,  when  he  has  finished  the 
sketch, 

De  ceus  de  Grece  vos  ai  dit 

Les  semblances,  solonc  1'escrit  (vv.  5271-2). 

But  here  he  is  simply  following  Dares,  as  his  own  words  indicate. 
One  might  hold  that,  when  he  adopted  this  portrait,  Benoit  had 
not  decided  to  make  Briseida  a  Trojan — or,  in  other  words,  that 
the  episode  of  the  love  of  Troilus  was  an  afterthought.  Against 
this,  however,  must  be  alleged  the  convincing  argument  that 
Benoit  has  so  modified  Dares'  portrait  of  Breseida  as  to  prepare 
for  her  unfaithfulness: — 

Mout  fu  amee  e  in  out  amot 

Mes  sis  corages  li  chaujot  (vv.  5267-8), — • 

verses  which  correspond  to  nothing  in  Dares, — and  that  further  he 
has  modified  Dares'  portrait  of  Troilus  in  such  a  way  as  to  bring 
the  two  together  in  our  minds  and  to  foreshadow  his  unhappy 
love  : — 

Ne  fu  sorfaiz  ne  outrajos, 

Mais  liez  e  gais  e  amoros. 

Bien  fu  amez  et  bien  ama, 

E  maint  grant  fais  en  endura  (vv.  5413  ff.).2 

1  In  this  point  he  was  really  reverting  to  the  older  tradition,  but  he  did 
not  know  that,  in  all  probability.     It  is,  of  course,  possible  that,  in  an  older 
form  of  Dares  than  that  which  we  possess  (a  Greek  Dares),  something  more 
was  said  of  Briseida  than  the  four  or  five  lines  of  portraiture  which  our  Latin 
text  affords.     If  that  is  the  case,  no  doubt  Briseida's  Trojan  (or  Phrygian) 
nationality  was  made  clear.     But  there  is  no  evidence  that  Benoit's  text  of 
Dares  was  different  from  our  own.     Indeed,  we  may  congratulate  ourselves 
that  it  was  not.     For,  if  Dares  had  told  Benoit  anything  more  than  he  does, 
he  would  doubtless  have  informed  him  that  Briseida  was  the  slave  girl  whom 
Agamemnon  took  away  from  Achilles.     Thus  Benoit  would  have  been  sure  to 
identify  her  (correctly)  with  that  Hippodamia  whose  story  he  tells  (from 
Dictys).     Under  those  circumstances,  we  may  fear  that  he  would  not  have  hit 
upon  the  happy  fiction  that  she  was  the  love  of  Troilus,  and  the  world  might 
have  lost  the  whole  story  of  Troilus — in  Benoit,  Boccaccio,  Chaucer,   and 
Shakspere.     If  he  had  known  of  the  identity  between  Briseida  and  Hippo- 
damia, he  might  simply  have  referred  the  portrait  to  the  latter  and  passed  on. 
Such  speculations  may  seem  pretty  idle,  but,  idle  or  not,  they  serve  to  bring 
out  in  high  relief  what  I  believe  to  be  an  important  point  in  literary  history— 
the  fact  that  it  was  the  beautiful  portrait  of  Briseida  the  unattached  that  gave 
Benoit  his  first  specific  impulse  toward  the  invention  of  the  Troilus  story. 

2  Cf.  Greif,  Die  mittelalterlichen  Bearbeitungen  der  Trojanersage,  pp.  35-36. 


72 


APPENDIX    III. 


The  slight  inconsistency  which  Benoit  perpetrated  in  keeping 
Briseida's  portrait  where  he  found  it  makes  no  sort  of  difficulty  in 
the  reader's  mind.  "When  the  time  comes  to  disclose  the  Trojan 
birth  and  Trojan  paternity  of  Briseida,  Benoit  ignores  any 
difficulty,  saying  simply : 

Calcas  li  sages,  li  corteis, 
Ot  line  fille  mout  preisiee, 
Bele  e  corteise  e  enseigniee  : 
De  li  esteit  grant  renommee, 
Briseida  ert  apelee  (vv.  12952  ff.), — 

and  the  fact  that  Calchas  is  now  among  the  Greeks  allows  the 
reader — if  he  happens  to  remember  that  Briseida  has  previously 
been  put  among  them  too,  to  correct  his  erroneous  impression 
without  any  trouble. 

As  to  Benoit's  Troilus  story,  we  may  also  remark  that  he  found 
in  a  certain  sense  a  prototype  or  suggestion  for  his  Briseida  and 
her  fortunes  in  the  history  of  Helen.  As  Helen  was  false  to  her 
Greek  husband  for  the  sake  of  a  Trojan  lover,  so  Briseida  was 
false  to  her  Trojan  ami  for  the  sake  of  a  Grecian.  If  this  is  held 
to  involve  a  frigid  schematism, — as  it  does  not,  in  reality,  for  the 
antiphrastic  parallel  is  not  brought  out  and  is  cited  here  merely 
as  one  of  the  obscure  influences  that  may  have  been  at  work  in 
Benoit's  mind, — let  us  remember  that  in  Henry  VI  we  have  a  son 
who  has  killed  his  father  and  a  father  who  has  killed  his  son,  and 
that  Davenant  and  Dryden  sought  to  improve  the  Tempest  by  so 
modifying  Shakspere's  conception  that  a  heroine  who  had  never 
seen  a  man  (except  her  father)  should  be  associated  with  a  hero 
who  had  never  seen  a  woman,  "  that  by  this  means  those  two 
Characters  of  Innocence  and  Love  might  the  more  illustrate  and 
commend  each  other." 


APPENDIX    III. 
ARMANNIXO. 

THE  treatment  which  the  Troilus  material  receives  in  the  Fiorita 
of  Armannino  (1325)  is  not  without  instructive  suggestions. 
Gorra  thinks  that  this  curious  version  of  the  Trojan  story  comes 
from  the  Roman  de  Troie,  but  not  directly.  The  immediate 
source  was,  he  believes,  a  French  work  composed  in  Italy  and 


ARMANNINO.  73 

based  on  Benoit.  For  our  present  purposes,  it  is  immaterial 
whether  the  differences  between  the  Fiorita  and  Benoit  are  due  to 
Armannino  or  to  his  predecessor.1 

Benoit,  expanding  Dares,  tells  how,  while  the  Greeks  were  at 
"  Tenedon,"  Achilles  and  Telephus  invaded  Mese  (i.  e.  Mysia), 
how  Teutrans2  (i.  e.  Teuthras)  of  Mese  was  killed  and  Telephus 
succeeded  him,  Achilles  returning  to  the  camp  at  Tenedos.3  This 
story  reappears  in  Armannino,  but  with  strange  variations.  In 
Armannino,  Achilles,  with  "  Tellamaco  "  and  Patrocolo,  makes  an 
expedition  against  three  kings — Filomas  of  RTeomasia  or  Neumasia, 
Aganor  of  Thrace  the  Greater,  and  Teutras  of  Phrygia,  all  of 
whom  are  killed.4  Tellamaco  succeeds  to  their  kingdoms.  Achilles 
returns  to  the  camp,  bringing  with  him  Brisseida  and  Crisseida. 
Then  follows  an  account  of  the  quarrel  between  Agamemnon  and 
Achilles.5  Most  of  these  peculiar  features  are  immediately 
explained  by  referring  to  another  passage  in  the  Roman  de  Troie, 
— the  speech  of  Ajax  for  the  Palladium,  in  which  he  recalls  his 
own  and  Achilles'  services  in  the  earlier  days  of  the  war.6  This 
is  mostly  from  Dictys,7  and  Benoit,  instead  of  weaving  it  into 
the  Dares  material,  has  preferred  to  introduce  it  in  a  reminis- 
cent way,  without  telling  just  where  it  belongs  chronologically. 
Armannino  or  his  predecessor,  on  the  contrary,  wished  to  make 

1  For  a  careful  discussion,  with  text  of  several  chapters,  see  Gorra,  Testi 
inediti  di  Storia  Trojana,  pp.  214  ff.,  532  ff.     For  the  date,  see  Mazzatinti, 
Giornale  di  Filologia  Rumanza,  III,  3-4. 

2  The  manuscript  variants    (v.  6513)    in  Constans  are  instructive  :    they 
include  treutrans,  thretaus,  cheutrax,  cetraus,  centraus,  cetlurus,  treucier,  and 
theucer. 

3  Benoit,  vv.  6489-6635  (from  Dares,  16). 

4  Neomasia  or  Neumasia  suggests   Moesia   (Benoit   lias   Mese}.      It   also 
reminds    one    a    little    of    Lyrwssus    (Benoit's   Linerse),    where  Astynome 
(Astronomen  in  Benoit)  lived  (Dictys,  ii,   17).     These  would  be  monstrous 
corruptions,  but  no  stranger  than  et  Armone'  for  Eetione  (abl.,  Dictys,  ii,  17) 
in  Joly's  text  of  Benoit  (v.  26749),  or  Cetlurus  for  Teutrans  (see  note  2.  above), 
or  Eotrillancie  (v.  26661)  for  Petyam  Zeleamque  (Dictys,  ii,  27).      Note,  too, 
Benoit's  Gerapolin  (v.  26731)  for  Hierapolin  (Dictys,  ii,  16).      Filomas  may 
be  for  Phorbas,  king  of  Lesbos,  who  was  slain  by  Achilles  (Dictys,  ii,  16 ; 
Benoit,  v.    26725,   calls  him  Forbanta,  following  the  accusative  in  Dictys). 
Aganor  looks  like  Agenor,  but  I  do  not  know  what  he  should  be  doing  dans 
cette  galere.     When  we  get  a  complete  text  of  Benoit  with  all  the  variants,  it 
will  be  more  satisfactory  to  guess  about  such  matters  as  these.     Meantime,  it 
is  clear  enough  that  most  of  the  materials  Avhich  Armaimino  (or  his  immediate 
predecessor)  needed  for  the  campaign  described  are  in  Benoit. 

5  Gorra,  pp.  551-5. 

6  Vv.  26586-918. 

7  For  the  general  idea,   see  Dictys,  v,  14  ;  for  details,  see  ii,  13,  16-19, 
28-31,  33,  34,  47-52.     Note,  however,  that  Dictys  does  not  actually  report 
the  speech.     That  was  Benoit's  idea,  and  he  found  materials  in  Dictys. 


74  APPENDIX    III. 

the  narrative  continuous.  He  suppressed  the  dispute  over  the 
Palladium,  and  attempted  a  combination  of  material.  His 
Tellamaco  is  doubtless  a  mistake  for  Telephusy  perhaps  made 
under  the  influence  of  "  Telamon,"  i.  e.  Benoit's  "  Telamon  Aiax."  * 
The  exploits  of  Ajax  in.  Thrace  and  Phrygia  are  combined  with 
the  campaign  of  Achilles  against  Teuthrans  of  Mysia  and  with 
other  raids,  and  there  is  much  transmogrification — intentional  or 
otherwise — of  proper  names.  The  account  of  the  quarrel  of 
Agamemnon  and  Achilles  over  the  captive  maidens — which  Gorra 
thinks  is  not  in  Benoit,2 — is  fully  reported  in  Ajax's  speech  in  the 
Roman  de  Troie. 

Now  in  Armannino  the  names  of  the  captives  are  not  Astynome 
daughter  of  Chryses,  and  Hippodamia,  daughter  of  Brises, — as 
they  are  in  Dictys  and  Benoit,3 — but  Crisseida  and  Brisseida. 
For  these  patronymics,  then,  either  Armannino  or  his  predecessor 
was  indebted  to  his  knowledge  of  the  classics,  presumably  Ovid's 
Heroides  and  Remedia  Amoris.  His  use  of  the  forms  shows  that 
he  recognized  Benoit's  error  in  assigning  Briseida  to  Troilus  as  an 
amie.  He  met  the  situation  by  telling  the  story  of  the  captives  and 
~by  dropping  the  love-story  of  Troilus  altogether.  Yet  he  adds  an 
oddly  undecided  remark,  to  the  effect  that  Achilles  brought  with 
him,  on  his  return  from  his  Thracian  campaign,  a  wise  diviner, 
who  came  of  his  own  free  will,  and  who  counselled  the  Greeks 
faithfully  thereafter.  "  One  writer  says,"  adds  Armannino,  "  that 
this  was  Criseida's  father,  ....  whose  name  was  Calcas ;  others 
say  that  he  was  a  Trojan  bishop  whom  Achilles  found  in  the 
temple  of  Apollo  when  he  went  to  offer  sacrifice  before  going  to 
Thrace,  and  who,  knowing  the  future,  wished  to  join  the  Greeks. 
Still  another  says  that  the  father  of  Criseida  was  a  priest  named 

1  "Aiax  Telamonius  "  in  Dictys  (e.  g.,  ii,  18).     Benoit  has  "  Thelamonius 
Aiax"  in  v.  23493.      "  Telemacus  "  appears  in  Benoit  as  the  son  of  Ulysses, 
but  of  course  he  takes  no  part  in  the  Trojan  War  (vv.  28864  ff.,  29719  if., 
etc.). 

2  Gorra  has  overlooked  the  fact  that  Benoit  included  in  Ajax's  speech  an 
account  of  the  quarrel  over  the  captive  maidens.     He  remarks  (p.  222,  cf. 
p.  239)  that  Benoit,  Guido,  and  Dares  "  non  conoscono  Criseida  e  non  sanno 
nulla  dell'ira  d'Achille  per  la  perdita  di  Briseida."     This  is  true  of  Dares  and 
Guido  ;  the  former  says  nothing  of  the  quarrel  over  the  Palladium  and  the 
latter  omits  a  great  part  of  Ajax's  oration  (noting  the  fact,  sig.  n  recto,  col.  2). 
But  of  Benoit  it  is  correct  only  so  far  as  the  mere  patronymics  Criseida  and 
Briseida  are  concerned,  for  he  makes  Ajax  tell  the  whole  story  (from  Dictys) 
of   "Astronomen  [Astynome]    fille  Crises"   and  "Ypodamia"   daughter  of 
Brises  (see  pp.  66-67,  above). 

3  "With  corruption  of  Astynome  to  Astronomen  in  Benoit  (Joly's  tert). 


GOWER'S  BALADES.  75 

'Jrisis."1  When  we  remember  that  Benoit  makes  Briseida  (not 
Griseida)  the  daughter  of  Calchas,  this  passage — which  shows 
that  the  names  were  of  interest  and  were  discussed — becomes  very 
tantalizing.  Benoit  makes  Calchas  a  Trojan  diviner  whom 
Achilles  met  in  the  temple  of  Apollo  and  who  cast  in  his  lot 
with  the  Greeks.  Of  course  Benoit  does  not  say  that  Creseida  is 
Calchas's  daughter,  for  he  mentions  her  only  as  "  Astronomen  [i.e. 
Astynome],  daughter  of  Crises."  But  a  careless  reader  might 
infer  that  Calchas  was  Chryseis's  father  from  Remedia  Amoris, 
vv.  473-4:— 

Quam  [sc.  Chryseida]  postquam  reddi  Calchas,  ope  tutus  Achillis, 
lusserat,  et  patria  est  ilia  recepta  dorao, — 

especially  as  Ovid  mentions  her  aged  father  just  before  ("  at  senior 
stulte  flebat  ubique  pater")  but  has  not  told  us  that  his  name 
Avas  Chryses.2 

From  all  this  tangle  we  emerge  with  three  lessons  in  mind. 
They  are  (1)  that  at  least  one  mediaeval  writer,  who  knew  nothing 
of  Boccaccio,  did  note  the  fact  that  Benoit  had  unwittingly  told  two 
contradictory  stories  about  Briseida ;  (2)  that  he  came  to  this  know- 
ledge because  he  knew  of  Briseida  in  Ovid ;  (3)  that  he  decided 
that  Ovid  was  a  better  authority  than  Benoit,  and  that  therefore 
Briseida  could  not  be  the  name  of  Troilus'  amie.3 


APPENDIX   IV. 

GOWER'S  BALADES. 

GOWER'S  volume  of  Bdlades  is  dedicated  to  Henry  IV,  and  there 
is  every  reason  to  think  (with  Mr.  Macaulay)  that  "  the  collection 
assumed  its  present  shape  probably  in  the  year  of  his  accession, 
1399."4  But  it  is  impossible  to  agree  with  him  in  ascribing  the 

1  "Alcuno  dice  die  costui  fu  el  padre  di  Criseida,  sicome  di  lei  disse,  el 
quale  per  nome  Calcas  fu  chiamato  ;  altri  dicono  che  fu  uno  vescovo  troiano, 
el  quale  Achille  trov6  nel  tempio  d' Apollo  quando  ando  a  fare  el  sacrificio, 
prima  che  andasse  in  Tracia  ;  e  sappiendo  quello  che  avenire  dovea  del  fatto, 
si  voile  tenere  a'  GrecL     Alcuno  altro  dice  che  il  padre  di  Criseida  fu  uno  prete, 
<jhe  ebbe  nome  Crisis  "  (Gorra,  p.  555). 

2  For  Chryses,  see  Ars  Amatoria,  ii,  399-405. 

3  See  also  the  article  of  Mr.  Wilkins,  p.  2,  note  1,  above. 

4  Complete  Works  of  Gower,  I,  Ixxiii. 


76  APPENDIX   IV. 

poems  themselves  to  Gower's  later  years.1  In  the  case  of  such  a 
collection,  there  is  always  a  strong  antecedent  probability  that  it 
consists  of  lyrics  written  at  sundry  times  and  on  different  occasions. 
NOT  is  there  any  reason  to  imagine  that  Gower's  book  of  Cinkante 
Balades  is  any  exception  to  the  rule.  The  natural  hypothesis  is 
that,  toward  the  end  of  his  poetical  career,  he  selected  such  of  his 
balades  as  pleased  him  best,  arranged  them  to  a  certain  extent, 
wrote  others  to  round  out  the  group,  prefixed  the  dedication,  and 
added  the  address  to  the  Virgin  and  the  General  Envoy.  A 
scrutiny  of  the  poems  themselves  is  almost  enough  to  establish  this 
inevitable  hypothesis.  No.  2  is  a  Spring-song;  Nos.  32  and  33 
are  New  Year's  Greetings ;  No.  34  and  35  are  Valentines ;  Nos.  36 
and  37  are  May-songs ; 2  Nos.  41-43  are  addressed  by  a  lady  to  her 
false  lover ;  Nos.  44  and  46  by  a  lady  to  her  faithful  lover.  The 
question  is  not  whether  any  of  the  balades  express  Gower's 
personal  feelings  or  were  written,  so  to  speak,  for  his  own  use.  On 
this  point  every  one  may  have  his  own  opinion.  What  seems 
perfectly  clear  is  that,  as  was  to  be  expected,  many,  if  not  all,  of 
them  are  occasional  poems,  and  that,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  they  may 
have  been  composed  at  widely  different  times. 

To  be  sure,  we  have  them  only  in  their  collected  form,  but  that  is 
not  surprising.  Short  occasional  poems  have  a  way  of  getting  lost. 
Nobody  doubts  that  Gower  knew  what  he  was  talking  about  when, 
in  the  Confessio  Amantis,  he  said  that  Chaucer  had  made  "  ditees 
and  songes  glade  "  in  honor  of  love,  and  that  the  land  was  full  of 
them  everywhere.3  And  we  have  the  testimony  of  the  Retraction 
at  the  end  of  the  Parson's  Tale  to  the  same  effect, — "  many  a  song 
and  many  a  lecherous  lay."  Where  are  they  1  Very  few  of  them 
have  been  preserved,  and  the  reason  is  that  Chaucer  did  not  gather 
them  into  a  volume  as  Gower  did. 

Gower's   own   activity   as   a   writer    of    love-lyrics   before   the 

1  Compare  ten  Brink's  remarks  on  the  Balades  (Geschichte  der  Englischen 
Litteratur,  II,  40,  102,  199,  624),    and    Koeppel's   observations   (Englische 
Studien,  XX,   154).     In  his  article  on  Gower  in  the  Cambridge  History  of 
English  Literature,  II,  154  (cf.  II,  138),  Mr.  Macaulay  seems  more  inclined 
than  in  his  edition  (I,  Ixxii)  to  admit  the  theory  of  Warton  that  the  Balades 
were  written  early. 

2  So,  possibly,  Nos.  10  and  15.     No.  13  may  have  been  written  in  March, 
but  the  allusion  to  the  changing  weather  of  that  month  is  proverbial.    A  bold 
conjecturer  might  guess  that  Nos.  6  and  31  had  something  to  do  with  the 
social  amusement  of  the  Flower  and  the  Leaf,  but  here  again  the  expressions 
in  point  are  perfectly  conventional. 

3  First  Version,  viii,  2941-7,  Macaulay,  III,  466. 


GOWER'S  BALADES.  77 

accession  of  Henry  IV  is  proved,  if  proof  be  necessary,  by  two 
passages, — one  in  the  Mirour,  which  was  finished  before  June 
1381,  and  the  other  in  the  Confessio  Amantis.  They  may  be 
quoted,  though  they  are  familiar  enough. 

Jadis  trestout  m'abandonoie  .       Et  tout  cela  je  changeray, 

An  foldelit  et  veine  joye,  Envers  dieu  je  supplieray 

Dont  ma  vesture  desguisay  Q'il  de  sa  grace  me  convoie  ; 

Et  les  fols  ditz  d'amours  fesoie,  Ma  conscience  accuseray, 

Dont  en  chantant  je  carolloie  :  Une  autre  chan9on  chanteray 

Mais  ore  je  m'aviseray  Que  jadys  chanter  ne  soloie.1 

(Mirour  de  FOmme,  vv.  27337-48.) 

And  also  I  have  ofte  assaied  To  sette  my  pourpos  alofte  ; 

Kondeal,  balade  and  virelai  And  thus  I  sang  hem  forth  fulofte 

For  hire  on  whom  myn  herte  lai  In  halle  and  ek  in  chambre  aboute, 

To  make,  and  also  forto  peinte  And  made  merie  among  the  route. 
Caroles  with  my  wordes  qweinte,  (Confessio  Amantis,  i,  2726-34.) 

It  is  manifest,  then,  that  no  balade  in  Gower's  collection  can  be 
pronounced  "  late,"  or  "  probably  late,"  except  on  the  strength  of 
internal  evidence,  and  there  is  no  evidence  of  the  kind  in  the  vast 
majority  of  cases.  Certainly,  the  allusions  to  Benoit's  Trojan 
material  which  are  found  in  several  of  these  poems  are  no  such 
indication,  for  we  have  seen  that  the  Roman  de  Troie  was  one  of 
Gower's  favorite  storehouses  of  lore  and  legend,  and  that  he  was 
very  familiar  with  it  before  he  wrote  the  Mirour  de  VOmme?  Such 
allusions  occur  in  Nbs.  30  (Ulysses'  return)  and  43  (Hector  and 
Penthesilea),  and — in  a  fashion  particularly  interesting  to  us — 
in  No.  20. 

The  purport  of  this  "  letter  " — for  so  the  writer  calls  it — is  that 
Fortune's  wheel,  though  said  to  be  ever-moving,  stands  still  in  the 
writer's  case  :  he  has  only  ill-luck  in  his  love.  To  emphasize  the 
peculiar  harshness  of  his  lot  in  being  thus  plante  la,  he  cites  two 
examples  in  which  one  man's  loss  was  another  man's  gain.  Fortune 
acts  normally,  it  seems,  in  general,  but  his  evil  condition  must 
endure  until  his  lady  sees  fit  to  have  mercy  upon  him : — 

Celle  infortune  dont  Palamedes  De  ses  amours  la  fortune  ad  saisi, 

Chaoit,  fist  tant  q'Agamenon  chosi  Du  fille  au  Calcas  mesna  sa  leesce  : 

Fuist  a  1'empire  :  anci  Diomedes,  Mais  endroit  moi  la  fortune  est  faili, 

Par  ceo  qe  Troilus  estoit  guerpi,  Ma  dolour  monte  et  ma  joie  descresce. 

Now  the  first  of  these  examples  is  certainly  taken  from  Benoit.3 

1  The  second  half  of  this  stanza  will  scarcely  be  taken  by  any  one  as 
evidence  that  Gower  never  wrote  of  love  again  ! 

2  See  pp.  4-7,  above. 

8  For  the  election  of  Agamemnon  to  replace  Palamedes,  see  Benoit,  vv.  19027  ff. 
Benoit  uses  the  word  empire:  "Nos  n'i  poons  meillor  eslire,"  says  Nestor, 


78  APPENDIX    IV. 

How  about  the  second1?  One  thing  is  immediately  clear:  it  may 
also  be  from  Benoit,  for  it  contains  nothing  that  he  does  not  tell. 
What  reason,  then,  is  there  for  imagining  that  Gower,  who  certainly 
drew  from  the  Roman  de  Troie  in  the  first  example,  did  not  draw 
from  the  same  source  in  the  second,  which  he  brings  into  such  close 
connection  with  the  first  1  ]STo  reason  whatever,  unless  we  assume 
that  the  balade  is  later  than  the  Troilus.  And  what  reason  is 
there  for  thinking  that  the  balade  is  later  than  the  Troilus  ?  None 
whatever,  unless  we  assume  that  Gower  is  here  alluding  to  that 
poem. 

It  is  quite  impossible,  then,  to  use  Gower's  twentieth  balade  as 
evidence  either  for  the  early  date  of  Chaucer's  Troilus  or  for  the 
theory  that  the  much-discussed  lines  in  the  Mirour  allude  to  that 
poem.  What  the  balade  does  prove  is  that  Gower — whether  before 
the  writing  of  the  Troilus  or  after — thought  of  the  Troilus  story, 
which  is  in  Benoit,  at  the  same  moment  at  which  he  thought  of  the 
Agamemnon-Palamedes  incident,  which  is  also  in  Benoit.  And  our 
knowledge  of  the  ordinary  processes  of  thought  would  lead  us  to 
infer  that,  in  this  instance  at  all  events,  it  was  the  Agamemnon- 
Palamedes  incident — the  first  example — which  suggested  to  Gower 
the  citation  of  the  Troilus  incident — the  second  example. 

But  we  may  learn  another  lesson  from  Gower's  twentieth  balade. 
According  to  Mr.  Tatlock,1  "  in  the  Briseis  narrative  of  Benoit,  the 
more  substantial  subject-matter  is  the  Briseida-Diomed  amour, 
to  which  the  Briseida-Troilus  amour  forms  rather  the  proem; 
whereas,  in  the  Chryseis  narrative  of  Boccaccio  and  Chaucer,  the 
main  interest  by  far  centres  in  the  Cryseyde-Troilus  amour,  to 
which  the  Cryseyde-Diorned  amour  forms  but  the  sequel."  Let  us 
apply  this  distinction  to  the  stanza  before  us.  Here,  too,  the 
emphasis  is  strong  on  the  Diomedes  amour.  If  one  were  disposed 
to  imitate  the  keenness  and  subtlety  with  which  Mr.  Tatlock 
conducts  his  case  throughout,  one  might  easily  argue  that  Gower  is 
here  following  rather  Benoit  (on  whom  he  is  certainly  drawing  in 
the  lines  that  precede)  than  Chaucer.  The  inference  might  then 

"  Qui  si  seit  digues  de  1'enpire  "  (vv.  19065-6).  Guido,  condensing  heroically, 
sums  up  Benoit's  vv.  19018-76  in  the  following  sentence:  "  In  castris  vero 
grecorum  de  morte  Palamidis  planctus  fit  maximus  et  eius  corpore  tradito 
sepulture  greci  conueniunt  et  cum  sine  ducis  industria  esse  non  possint  de 
consilio  nestoris  communiter  acceptato  regem  Agamemnonem  in  eorum  ducem 
exercitus  et  priiicipem  iterum  elegerunt "  (sig.  k  4,  fol.  2  verso,  coL  1).  The 
word  empire  shows  whom  Gower  is  following. 
1  P.  28,  note  2. 


ALICE    FERRERS    AND    GOWER'S    MIROUR.  79 

be  drawn  that  the  stanza  was  written  before  Chaucer's  poem.  And 
then  it  would  follow,  as  a  logical  certainty,  that  the  writing  and 
publication  of  the  Troilus  were  not  necessary  conditions  precedent 
for  a  mention  of  the  Troilus  story  in  the  Mirour.  Such  a  conclusion 
would  spike  one  of  Mr.  Tatlock's  guns.  "  If  the  reference  [in  the 

Mirour]  is  not  to  Chaucer's  poem,  the   spelling  with  G e  is 

surprising ;  and  .  .  .  the  occurrence  of  the  reference  at  all  is  still 
more  surprising."1  The  argument  which  I  have  just  sketched  does 
not  account  for  the  first  surprise,  but,  if  accepted,  it  effectually 
disposes  of  the  second.  However,  I  attach  no  importance  to  this 
argument,  and  give  it  only  for  what  it  is  worth  and  to  show,  in 
Sam  Patch's  phrase,  that  "  some  things  can  be  done  as  well  as 
others."  We  have  already  seen  that  there  is  nothing  to  surprise 
anybody  in  Gower's  referring  to  the  Troilus  story  in  the  next 
chapter  to  one  in  which  he  refers  to  the  physician  who  cured 
Hector,2  and  exsufflicate  and  blown  surmises  need  not  be  resorted  to. 


APPENDIX  V. 

ALICE  PERRERS  AND  GOWER'S  MIROUR. 

"MACAULAY  points  out  that  lines  22801-24  refer  to  the 
conditions  at  the  end  of  Edward  III.'s  reign,  especially  to  the 
domination  of  Alice  Perrers : 

"  '  Voir  dist  qui  dist  femme  est  puissant, 
Et  ce  voit  om  du  meintenant.  .  .  . 
Qe  femme  in  terre  soit  regnant 
Et  Rois  soubgit  pour  luy  servir. 
Rois  est  des  femmes  trop  de9ii,  .  .  . 
Dont  laist  honour  pour  foldelit. ' 

This  implies  a  date  some  time  later  than  August,  1369,  when 
Queen  Philippa  died,  after  which  the  liaison  become  more  open 
than  before.  .  .  .  But  the  passage  may  quite  well  have  been 
written  after  Edward's  death,  June,  1377.  It  may  reasonably 
be  doubted  whether  Gower  would  have  cared  to  express  himself  so 
fully  and  frankly  on  the  king's  shortcomings,  before  the  king's 

1  P.  32. 

2  See  pp.  7-8,  above. 


80  APPENDIX    VI. 

death,  in  a  poem  meant  for  publication  ;  his  other  two  great  works 
were  clearly  meant  to  reach  the  royal  eye.  The  passage  simply 
expressed  general  contemporary  conditions,  and  may  well  denote  a 
foregone  conclusion"  (Tatlock,  p.  220). 

The  verses  omitted  by  Mr.  Tatlock  should  be  restored  before 
this  question  is  decided. 

Voir  dist  qui  dist  femme  est  puissant, 

Et  ce  voit  om  du  meintenant : 

Dieus  pense  de  les  mals  guarir, 

Q'as  toutes  toys  est  descordant, 

Qe  femme  en  terre  soit  regnant 

Et  Rois  soubgit  pour  luy  servir  (vv.  22806-11). 

If  Gower  is  really  alluding  to  the  domination  of  Alice  Perrers 
over  King  Edward,  the  italicized  verses  certainly  seem  to  imply 
that  the  king  is  alive,  and  his  subjection  a  thing  of  the  present. 
This  is  doubtless  why  Mr.  Macaulay  believed  that  the  passage 
was  written  before  the  death  of  Edward  III  in  1377,  and  why 
he  felt  compelled  to  regard  vv.  18817-40,  which  must  have  been 
written  as  late  as  1378,  as  a  later  insertion.1 

Still,  it  is  unsafe  to  press  details  too  much  in  a  sermon  which 
certainly  has  a  more  or  less  general  application,  and  Mr.  Tatlock 
may  be  right  in  supposing  that  the  verses  about  kings  and 
women  were  written  after  Edward's  death. 


APPENDIX    VL 

THE  DATE  OF  THE  MIROUR  DE  L'OMME. 

WHEN  was  the  Mir  our  de  VOmme  written  1  Mr.  Macaulay  says 
that  "  we  shall  not  be  far  wrong  if  we  assign  the  composition  of 
the  book  to  the  years  1376-1379."  2  Mr.  Tatlock,  "considering 
the  great  length  of  the  poem,"  would  "  extend  the  limits  to  about 
1375-81."3 

Three  chronological  points  are  practically  certain : — (1)  vv. 
2142-8  (2706-12) 4  were  written  before  the  death  of  Edward  III, 
which  occurred  in  June,  1377;  (2)  vv.  18817-40  (19381-404) 

1  Works  of  Gower,  I,  xlii-iii. 

2  Works  of  Gower,  I,  xliii.  3  P.  225. 

4  The  figures  in  parenthesis  allow  for  the  lost  verses  at  the  beginning  of 
the  poem  ("probably  about  forty-seven  [twelve-line]  stanzas":  Macaulay, 
I,  3). 


DATE    OP    THE   MIROUR.  81 

were  written  after  the  beginning  of  the  Great  Schism  in  September, 
1378;  (3)  the  poem  was  finished  before  June,  1381,  when  the 
Peasants'  Eevolt  broke  out.1 

Unfortunately,  we  cannot  tell  how  long  before  June,  1377,  vv. 
2142-8  (2706-12)  were  written.  In  other  words,  we  do  not 
know  when  Gower  began  the  Mirour.  Sometime  in  the  seventies, 
however,  is  a  safe  enough  inference  for  the  beginning  of  the  work, 
and  either  1375  (Tatlock)  or  1376  (Macaulay)  is,  per  se,  a 
reasonable  date. 

For  the  explicit  we  have,  it  will  be  noted,  a  rather  limited 
field  for  conjecture.  Gower  must  have  written  the  last  eleven  or 
twelve  thousand  lines  of  the  poem  between  September,  1378,  and 
June,  1381.  Is  there  any  way  of  determining  how  long  before 
the  latter  date  he  laid  down  his  pen1? 

This  question  cannot  be  answered,  even  provisionally,  until  we 
have  made  up  our  minds  about  the  composition  of  the  Vox 
Clamantis.  Mr.  Tatlock  appears  to  have  no  doubt  that  the  whole 
of  this  poem  was  written  after  the  Eevolt  of  1381.  This  is 
certain  for  Book  i,  but  there  are  strong  reasons  for  believing  that, 
in  its  original  form,  the  Vox  consisted  of  Books  ii-vii,  that  these 
were  composed  before  the  Eevolt  broke  out,  and  that  Book  i  was 
a  later  addition.  The  arguments  are  given  in  full  by  Mr.  Macaulay, 
and  need  not  be  repeated  here.  I  do  not  see  how  any  one  can 
read  the  poem  without  being  convinced.2 

Books  ii-vii  of  the  Vox  Clamantis,  then,  in  all  probability 
were  composed  before  June,  1381.  It  follows  that,  between 
September,  1378,  and  this  date,  Gower  wrote  not  only  the  last 
eleven  or  twelve  thousand  lines  of  the  Mirour,  but  the  8000 
Latin  verses  (in  the  elegiac  couplet)  which  Books  ii-vii  of  the 
Vox  comprise.  If  we  allow  a  year  and  a  half  for  these  8000 
verses, — which  seems  little  enough, — we  arrive  at  ca.  January, 
1380,  as  the  most  probable  date  (at  all  events,  as  the  latest 
probable  date)  for  the  completion  of  the  Mirour* 

1  Macaulay,  I,  xlii-iii  ;  cf.  Tatlock,  pp.  220  ff. 

2  Mr.  Macaulay  was  strongly  tempted  to  adopt  this  view  in  1902  (see  his 
edition,   IV,   xxxi-ii),  and   he  seems  to  have  become   even  better  disposed 
toward  it  since  that  time  (see  his  article  on  Gower  in  the  Cambridge  History 
of  English  Literature,  II  [1908],  144). 

3  Mr.  Macaulay,  it  will  be  remembered,   assigns  the  composition  of  the 
Mirour  to  1376-1379.      Thus,  the  result  at  which  we  have  arrived  by  a 
consideration  of  the  Vox  accords  exactly  with  the  date  which  he  sets  for  the 
completion  of  the  work. 


82  APPENDIX    VI. 

Now  if  Gower  wrote  eleven  or  twelve  thousand  verses  of  the 
Mirour  between  September,  1378  (at  the  earliest),  and  January, 
1380  (at  the  latest), — that  is  to  say,  in  a  year  and  a  quarter, — it  is 
manifestly  impossible  to  feel  confident  that  the  Troilus  verses, 
vv.  5245-56  (5809-20)  were  written  as  late  as  1377.  If  Gower 
began  the  poem  in  1375  (as  Mr.  Tatlock  seems  to  think),  he  may 
well  have  reached  v.  5245  in  1375  or  1376. 

It  appears,  therefore,  that  1377,  which  is  Mr.  Tatlock's  date  for 
the  Troilus  verses  in  the  Mirour,  may  be  a  year  or  two  later  than 
the  facts  warrant. 


PR 
1901 

A3 
ser.  2 
no,  42 


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