In the last year of the fourteenth century there were still living two men whose voices have made the century live for us. One of them—Chaucer—remains to-day the father of English poetry, the forerunner of Shakespeare; the other—Gower—less known to most of us, was the author of three long poems—‘Speculum Meditantis,’ in French; ‘Vox Clamantis,’ in Latin; ‘Confessio Amantis,’ in English. Boccaccio had written his ‘Decameron,’ and it was this method of writing a series of poems or stories by means of connecting-links of narrative that should run through the series, that inspired the form of the ‘Confessio Amantis’ and the ‘Canterbury Tales’; indeed, many stories in both of these works are retold out of the ‘Decameron.’ Gower wrote of his age as a man giving advice, philosophically; he did not attempt character studies, but framed his poems as narratives with morals fit for application to his times.

Chaucer drew his characters clearly—so clearly that they have become as living as have Uncle Toby or Mrs. Gamp—symbolic people, embracing a type of national character.

A third writer—Langland—pictured his age from the poor man’s point of view, and the three writers, together with the artist of the Loutrell Psalter, bring the age most vividly to our eyes.

Of course, in these days of hasty work, it seems hardly feasible to suggest that artists who would illustrate these times should read the works of these three men, and go to the British Museum to look at the Psalter; but any writer must do this, and can do this, considering that the works of the poets are cheap to obtain and the British Museum is free to all.

Anyone wishing to picture these times will find that Chaucer has written very carefully of the costume of his Pilgrims. They will find the pith of the costume in this book of mine; but since no book is complete in every sense, they should see for themselves how men of the day drew the costume they saw about them. It will give them a sense of the spirit of the age which so many modern drawings lack.

I give you Gower’s picture of an exquisite; no words of mine could show so well the manner of the man:

Now, if I have described the costume of these times clearly—and I think I have done so—these lines should conjure up a gay fellow, with his many changes of dress. If the vision fails, then allow me to say that you are at fault, and have taken no pains with the description. Because the coloured drawing to the chapter of Richard II. shows a long houppelande and a chaperon tied in a certain way, you will very possibly forget that this dandy would have also a short houppelande, differently jagged sleeves, more ruffle about the twisting of his chaperon, more curve to the points of his shoes.

You may see the image of Gower for yourself in St. Mary Overies Church, now called St. Saviour’s, on the Southwark side of London Bridge. He is dressed in his sober black, his head resting upon his three books.

In 1397 Gower retired from active life, and resigned his Rectory of Great Braxted, Essex; he was seventy years of age, and at that age he married Agnes Groundolf in a chapel of his own under the rooms where he lived in the Priory of St. Mary Overies.

In 1400 his friend Chaucer died and Gower went blind. He died in 1408.

Chaucer, whose eyes saw England in her greatness after the Battle of Crecy in 1346, and in her pitiful state at the downfall of Richard II., saw such a pageant of clothes pass before him that, in describing those wonderful national types, his Canterbury Pilgrims, he marks each one with some hint of array that we may know what manner of habit was proper to them. Here, then, is a list of the clothes he pictured them as wearing:

The Knight

wears a fustian doublet, all rust-stained by his coat of mail. It is interesting to note how old-fashioned is the character of this ‘verray parfit gentil knight,’ for he belongs more rightly to the chivalrous time of the first half of Edward III.’s reign rather than to the less gentle time of Richard.

The Squire.

His locks were curled, ‘as they were leyed in presse.’ His short gown with wide sleeves was covered with embroidery of red and white flowers.

The Yeoman

is in a coat and hood of green. He has a sheaf of peacock arrows in his belt; across his shoulder is a green baldrick to carry a horn. There is a figure of St. Christopher in silver hanging on his breast.

The Prioress

is in a handsome cloak; she wears coral beads gauded with green, and a brooch of gold—

The Monk

wears his gown, but has his sleeves trimmed with gray squirrel. To fasten his hood he has a curious gold pin, wrought at the greater end with a love-knot.

The Friar

has his cape stuck full of knives and pins ‘for to yeven faire wyves.’

The Merchant

is in a motley of colours—parti-coloured. His beard is forked; upon his head is a Flaunderish beaver hat. His boots are elegantly clasped.

The Clerk

wears a threadbare tunic.

The Man of Law

is in a coat of parti-colours, his belt of silk with small metal bars on it.

The Frankeleyn or Country Gentleman

has a white silk purse and a two-edged dagger, or akelace, at his girdle.

‘Then come the Haberdasher, the Carpenter, the Weaver, the Dyer, and the Tapestry Worker, all in the livery of their companies. They all carry pouches, girdles, and knives, mounted in silver.’

The Shipman

is in a gown of falding (a coarse cloth), reaching to his knees. A dagger is under his arm, on a lace hanging round his neck.

The Doctor

wears a gown of red and blue (pers was a blue cloth) lined with taffeta and sendal.

The Wife of Bath.

Her wimples of fine linen—

Her hose was of fine scarlet red; her shoes were moist and new. Her hat was as broad as a buckler, and she wore a foot-mantle about her hips.

The Ploughman

wears a tabard, a loose smock without sleeves.

The Reve or Steward

wears a long surcoat of blue cloth (pers).

The Somnour

(an officer who summoned persons before the ecclesiastical courts) wears on his head a garland—‘as greet as it were for an ale-stake.’

The Pardoner

has long yellow hair falling about his shoulders; his hood is turned back, and he wears a tall cap, on which is sewn a Vernicle. This is the handkerchief of St. Veronica on which there was an impression of our Lord’s face.

This completes the list of Pilgrims, but it will be useful to give a few more descriptions of dress as described by Chaucer. The Carpenter’s wife in the Miller’s Tale is described:

Here also, from the Parson’s Tale, is a sermon against the vain clothing of his time, that will serve to show how you may best paint this age, and to what excess of imagination you may run. I have reduced the wording into more modern English:

After this, the good Parson, rising to a magnificent torrent of wrathful words, makes use of such homely expressions that should move the hearts of his hearers—words which, in our day, are not seemly to our artificial and refined palates.

Further, Chaucer remarks upon the devices of love-knots upon clothes, which he calls ‘amorettes’; on trimmed clothes, as being ‘apyked’; on nearly all the fads and fashions of his time.

It is to Chaucer, and such pictures as he presents, that our minds turn when we think vaguely of the Middle Ages, and it is worth our careful study, if we wish to appreciate the times to the full, to read, no matter the hard spelling, the ‘Vision of Piers the Plowman,’ by Langland.

I have drawn a few of the Pilgrims, in order to show that they may be reconstructed by reading the chapters on the fourteenth century.