"It was four years after this when Grisildis had a little son; there were great rejoicings when he was born, because he was the heir, and would succeed his father as marquis and ruler of the land. But when he was about two years old, the marquis one day told Grisildis that he found there were great murmurings among his people about this child, for they were all indignant at the thought that the grandson of the poor Janicola should be their lord, and reign over them; and that in order to avoid a tumult, he thought it best to send away the little boy, as he had done with his sister. To this Grisildis again made answer, that his wish was always hers, and that if she knew that her death would bring him ease, most gladly would she die, for death was nothing to her compared with his love. That night the little boy was taken away, and secretly sent also to the Countess of Panak, where the little girl was now growing up. Some years passed by, and no change could the marquis find in the love and truth of Grisildis, only if it were possible she was more true in love and service as she increased in years. But at length the thought came into the mind of the marquis that he would try whether Grisildis loved him for himself, or only for the sake of being the marchioness, and having the first place among the ladies of the land, and living in state and luxury; so he told her that though he loved her truly, he could not do as the common people did, and have whom he liked best for a wife, for the old discontent at his marriage had grown stronger and stronger among his people, until the Pope at last, in order to appease the tumult, had sent a bull, authorising him to send her home, and make another marriage with a lady of rank; and this lady, he said, was on her way to Saluces. Grisildis answered to this, that she knew she was not of fitting rank to be the marchioness, and had ever held herself, not as the first lady of that land, but only as a true and humble

wife; but that since he desired her to return to the lowly state from which he had taken her, she would go back to her father's cottage, leaving behind her all her fine dresses and jewels.

"So that day Grisildis went back to the poor little hut of her father, without asking her husband for money or any of those things which only belonged to her position as marchioness, thus proving that it was not for these things she cared.

"In the meantime the marquis had sent to the Earl of Panak, desiring him to bring to Saluces his daughter (now grown a fair young lady) and his son. On the morning of their arrival he sent to Grisildis to say that the lady of rank, of whom he had spoken, was coming that day; but that he had no one to see that everything was properly prepared for her reception, and he asked her to come to the palace and see that the servants arranged everything as he liked it done. So Grisildis went in her poor dress, and directed and worked until all the house was in order and everything made ready for the reception of the visitors.

"About noon the Earl of Panak with the two children arrived at the palace, and Grisildis busied herself in doing everything for their comfort and welcome; and as the marquis saw her moving about in her homely dress, and the patience with which she bore this last great trial of her love, he could keep it up no longer, but cried out, 'It is enough, Grisildis mine! now know I thy steadfastness, dear wife.' Grisildis heard the words, but she could not take in their meaning, and she stood and stared like some one suddenly waked out of a dream. Then the marquis said, 'This fair young maiden is our daughter and this boy our son; them again, dear wife.' But Grisildis, who had borne so much with such calm patience, could not bear this sudden great joy, and down she fell in a faint. Then recovering a little, she called both her young children to her and em

take

braced them, kissing them tenderly and bathing their faces and hair with her tears. It was a piteous thing to hear her sweet voice thanking God and the marquis that she had her children in her arms again, and those who stood by could only turn away their faces and weep.

"But this was a happy day for all, and it was the beginning of many long happy years, for never again did the marquis doubt his wife's love and truth, but they and their children lived together in great peace and high prosperity; and they fetched home to the palace the old father of Grisildis, and there he dwelt with them as long as he lived.”

Chaucer says that we are not to understand by this story that we have any right to make trials for other people, but it is told in order that, by thinking of the beautiful trust and patience of Grisildis, we may be helped to bear the losses and trials, which God sends us in this life, with perfect love and trust, knowing that "He does not willingly afflict nor grieve the children of men,” and “tempteth no man.”

And, perhaps, Chaucer also wished to show that, in all the love of our lives, there must be trust and patience; for love is worth little which cannot stand any trial, but gives way to anger and displeasure, because we do not understand the conduct of others.

NOTE. As this is not a critical History of English Literature, the arguments for and against the genuineness of works ascribed to Chaucer have not been taken into account, but those commonly received have been accepted as his.

CHAPTER IV.

GOWER, WYCLIF, AND LANGLAND (1300-1400).

WE have seen how the large mind and heart of Chaucer took in all the life of England in his day, and, unlike the old romancers, gave to every class a place in English literature, though he speaks but little of many things that were going on in England at that time. This was not because he did not see or care for what was happening at the time, but because he saw how seeming evil works out good, and he had firm trust that God is really ruling the world in the best way; and this we shall find to be the faith of all our greatest men in English literature.

There were stormy days in England during Chaucer's lifetime, for there were dark clouds in two different quarters; some rising from the corruptions in the Church, and others from the miserable state of the poor. The story of our English Literature has to do with both of these; for, as we have seen, literature is the voice, and history the action of a nation.

Before the days of Chaucer, Englishmen were beginning to cry out at the interference of the Pope of Rome in the English Church, and to complain of the sums of money he exacted from the English nation. But in the time of Edward III. these things had grown worse. The Pope claimed the right of appointing clergy to a large number of English parishes, and he gave the livings often not to Englishmen but to Italians, who could not teach the people, for they did not know a word of English, and, as they liked Italy best, never came to England at all, but received the

income of the livings all the same. Then there were a large number of begging friars who got money from the people, and of pardoners, who went about selling for money pardons for sins. Chaucer has represented these among his pilgrims. At this time the Parliament complained that the money carried out of England to Rome was five times as much as the taxes levied by the king. The covetousness and worldliness of the Pope and the Italian clergy had their effect on the English clergy. They, too, cared little for their people, they sought their own interests and pleasures as the end of life; and had they attempted to teach "the love of Christ and His Apostles twelve," it would have been of little use, since they did not "follow it themselves,” and their teaching would have had no authority. But, besides this, they had lowered the commands of God and altered the teaching of Christ, so as to get for themselves more power and more money; and though the sense and conscience of the people told them there was something wrong, they had not got the Bible in their hands to show them wherein the wrong lay. The Religious Houses were no longer what they had been at first, centres of light and teaching to the poor around them, but were filled with lazy persons, who, because they liked idleness better than work, lived in these houses on the money which had been left at different times to the communities. We can easily see that, at such a time when the clergy cared more for the fleece than the flock," few would be found willing to teach the poor, to care for them in their sorrows and their sickness, and to live among them as Christ did when He was in this world. That there were some earnest men who, like Chaucer's poor parson, cared more for the work of God than for their own ease and pleasure we know; but, for the most part, those naturally indolent lived in sloth and pleasure, and those naturally active pressed themselves into offices of power about the Court and king.