The Life and Times of Chaucer

by John Gardner

  It will be useful, in the long run, to pursue this matter a little further. We have seen already that among Victorian biographers we find a tendency to see the poet Chaucer as an early version of the Grub Street genius who by inspiration and perspiration climbed to at least brief prosperity. The inclination has been to make far too much of the darker implications of the numerous guildhall documents concerning Thames Street and, especially, the Walbrook, which bordered John Chaucer’s property, a brook periodically, from 1278 to 1415, “stopped up by divers filth and dung thrown therein by persons who have houses along the said course, to the great nuisance and damage of all the city.”12 The rundown neighborhood such records suggest is an optical illusion. The nuisance—filth and dung—was a common one in fourteenth-century London. Poor men accepted such things as inescapable facts of life. But some of the landholders on Thames Street were the politically powerful merchant vintners of Gascoyne, many of whom became mayors of the city; others were the holders of the imposing cutlers’, plumbers’, and glaziers’ guildhalls and the town mansions of the earls of Worcester and Ormond, the great house of Henry Picard, vintner—of whom it is said that in the year 1363 he “did in one day sumptuously feast Edward III, King of England, John, King of France, David, King of Scots, the King of Cyprus (then all in England), Edward, Prince of Wales [the Black Prince], with many other noblemen, and after kept his hall for all comers that were willing to play at dice and hazard”13—and also the house of the Ypres family, where the greatest of the magnates, or super-barons, John of Gaunt, was dining in 1377 when a knight burst in to say that London was up in arms against him, and “unless he took great heed, that day would be his last. With which words the duke leapt so hastily from his oysters that he hurt both his legs against the form. Wine was offered, but he could not drink for haste, and so fled with his fellow Henry Percy out at the back gate, and entering the Thames, never stayed rowing until they came to a house near the manor of Kennington, where at that time the princess [of Wales] lay with [her newborn son] Richard the young prince, before whom he made his complaint.”14 Such men brooked no dung in their neighborhood brooks (according to one early Chaucerian, Stow, writing in the time of Queen Elizabeth, the Walbrook was still, in 1462, “a fair brook of sweet water,” now bricked in), and they could afford to raise complaint about it.

  If we dismiss the notion that John Chaucer was one of King Edward III’s household familiars, since his name is missing from the household records, and if we abandon, on the other hand, all vestiges of the notion of John Chaucer as humble tavern-keeper—recalling the neighborhood he lived in, recalling that he was a follower of blind Henry of Lancaster important enough to be noticed and charged, and that (probably) his holdings in real estate were soon to include (or included already) some holdings in Kent where his wife had property and where (probably for the sake of advancing his position, considering the general practice of his age) he found a husband for his daughter, Geoffrey Chaucer’s sister Kate—we may reasonably guess that, like the poet himself, later, he may have been valued not directly for his expertise in wine but for the charm and diplomacy of a talented though relatively minor civil servant, or as a skillful keeper of difficult accounts, or as a man whose business and social connections might prove useful to the crown.

  The more one studies the few surviving facts, the more acceptable this theory becomes, I think. King Edward’s mission in Flanders and up the Rhine, in 1338, was, as I’ve said, to gather allies and negotiate financial backing for his projected attack on the king of France. John Chaucer, who apparently went as far as Cologne, was a man familiar with imports and exports, a skillful accountant, one well acquainted with the intricacies of English law regarding customs; and he was a man who by his station and line of business must be well known (and evidently not repugnant) to the Flemish merchant community in London, and even better known to his neighbors and regular business associates on Thames Street, the merchants of Cologne. Not a stone’s throw from his house, G. G. Coulton points out (without drawing the conclusion I myself would draw), “stood the great fortified hall and wharf of the Hanse merchants, the Easterlings who gave their name [’sterling] to our coinage, and whose London premises remained the property of Lübeck, Hamburg, and Bremen until 1853. Chief among the Easterlings at this time were the Cologne merchants, with whom John Chaucer had specially close relations.”15 Also on Thames Street stood the large house built of stone and timber, with storage vaults for wine, called the Vintry, the house where John Gisers lived—a vintner who later became mayor of London and constable of the town—and where after him lived Henry Picard, who was mayor of London in 1357 and the man supposed to have feasted four kings and the Black Prince all in one day. Picard and several other powerful and affluent vintners, besides John Chaucer—some of the wealthiest merchants in England—were along with King Edward on the journey up the Rhine in 1338.

  John Chaucer probably traveled, then, as a minor assistant in a company of full-fledged merchant-diplomats (such as Geoffrey Chaucer would be later on his Genoa trip), men charged with working out trade, tax, and port agreements, a smoothing of operations and an inducement to greater cooperation between states soon to be allied in war. Such royally sponsored negotiations between merchants were the rule rather than the exception in an age when taxation beyond a certain limit could mean catastrophe (as the peasants showed the king’s advisers in 1381)—an age when prudent kings depended, for war finance, on the ambitions of merchants and the booty- and ransom-lust of barons. That John Chaucer was only an assistant seems certain. He was probably not yet a licensed vintner at the time he followed Edward in 1338. He is first definitely identified as a vintner on August 1, 1342, when he was one of fifteen vintners who agreed to an ordinance made by the mayor, the aldermen, and the commonality of London prohibiting the watering down of tavern wine; and in all the later records concerning the property of his half brother Thomas Heyroun, he is explicitly “John Chaucer, vintner.” Of course even if he was not yet a licensed vintner in 1338, his family connections might have earned him a position of moderate importance; but they had nothing like the power of the Picards.

  One thing seems certain in the career of John Chaucer. Whether or not he traveled to Cologne as a junior diplomat, he was interested all his life in the lucrative business of politics: national politics, guild politics, and often both at once, as when, in March of 1356, at forty-four (distinguished, portly, and exceedingly well-to-do) he was appointed as one of two guild collectors in the Vintry Ward to gather money to equip two light boats for the English fleet—an expensive proposition. If he were not an affable, persuasive man, a gentleman to whom some in the Vintry Ward owed favors, one generally respected for his honesty and for the same cordial but unwavering firmness that would characterize his son, he would probably not have been given that assignment by his peers.

  Among those who traveled up the Rhine with King Edward was another London vintner by the name of Henry Northwell—tall, lean, graying, dignified—who had a young wife named Agnes, his pride and joy, a pleasant, quick-witted, warmhearted woman for whom John Chaucer—watching her breathe in the nipping river breeze—probably felt an instant liking, though he had no idea, when he first passed the time of day with her, what it would lead to. At any rate, she was probably the same Agnes who had become, by 1354—and probably ten or fifteen years earlier—John Chaucer’s wife and, presumably, the mother of the future poet. She was the daughter of a man named John of Copton, and niece and heiress to one of London’s quiet rich, Hamo of Copton, citizen and moneyer (or mint-officer) of London, who died in 1349.16

  Hamo Copton was survived by at least one son, Nicholas, upon whose death without issue the Copton property was apparently to devolve to Agnes. Her father had by now been dead for some time; he was apparently the same John Copton who lived outside Aldgate and was slain in 1313 or ’14, when Agnes was a child. His property apparently went to his brother and, after the death of Hamo’s son Nicholas, in the plague year 1349, to Agne
s and John Chaucer. They did, at any event, get property in the parish of St. Botolph outside Aldgate. In October 1349 a man named Nigel of Hackney—son and heir of Richard of Hackney, an executor of Hamo Copton’s will—brought a plea of intrusion against “John Chaucer, vintner, and his wife Agnes,” with reference to the St. Botolph property formerly owned by Hamo Copton. If the property mentioned in these various records is all the same property, then what happened was, perhaps, that John Copton left his house to his brother Hamo; Hamo’s executor tried to seize it for himself upon the death of Hamo’s last surviving son; but the Chaucers rushed up from Southampton, where they’d been living—bringing along with them their nine-year-old son—and immediately moved in, enforcing their claim by occupancy. Agnes later proved her right to the house in court. It was property worth fighting for. It stood in a neighborhood where King Edward’s mistress Alice Perrers would later hold tenements and where Geoffrey Chaucer would one day win a luxurious house lease-free by city grant.

  As a Copton, it has been suggested, Agnes Chaucer may have been a member of the prominent land-rich Pelican family of Kent, a matter of possible importance to Geoffrey’s later career. Hamo Copton is recorded in 1321 as living at St. Dunstan’s parish, but he seems to have belonged to a family of Kentish origin.17 It is clear, in any case, that Geoffrey Chaucer would later have connection with Kent. John of Philpot’s Visitation of Kent records the marriage of a man named Simon Manning of Codham, Kent, to Catherina “soror Galfridi Chawcer militis celeberrimi Poetae Anglicani” (sister of Geoffrey Chaucer, soldier, celebrated among English poets); and we know that on one occasion Chaucer was given wardship over a minor in Kent. If Geoffrey Chaucer had not owned or overseen Kentish property he would probably not have been given that wardship and could not have become, as he did, justice of the peace and later representative in parliament for Kent. (As we’ll see in later chapters, Chaucer almost certainly qualified for a parliamentary seat because he was resident representative or steward for one of Kent’s greatest landowners, the king.)

  Besides her immediate family background, Agnes Chaucer had high connections through her first husband, who was a kinsman of William of Northwell, a man in the lofty position of keeper of the king’s wardrobe, an inner-circle position in the king’s household, and no mere valet’s assignment: the king’s wardrobe meant all his household goods except those covered by the Exchequer, which governed the king’s butler, the receiver of stores, the keeper of horses, and the royal messengers. He also served as the king’s principal financial agent. This family connection may well have had something to do with the poet’s later rise in King Edward’s court and then Richard’s. Agnes did, as we’ve seen, inherit at least some of the valuable and extensive Copton property. In addition to that already mentioned, she and her husband John Chaucer in 1354 held property which they granted by deed to Simon de Plaghe, physician, citizen of London, and Joan, his wife—a brewing tenement with houses, buildings, and garden adjacent, and two shops and solars, formerly just outside the city wall. And later, in 1363, John and Agnes Chaucer agreed to the transfer of some nearby property, ten and a half acres of land with valuable appurtenances—twenty-four shops and two gardens—in Stepney and in the parish of St. Mary Mattefalon, outside Aldgate.

  The Chaucers may also have gained some wealth and courtly influence through the Heyroun line, the line of John Chaucer’s beloved half brother—or simply “brother,” as the two call each other in official records. Though they were not the direct source of Chaucer’s appointment, the Heyrouns had connections with Petherton Forest, one of the huge royal estates originally set apart for the royal pleasure but later built up with manors and even towns. Late in life, after valuable personal service and risky loyalty to King Richard, Geoffrey Chaucer would become subforester, that is to say, deputized chief agent, over Petherton Forest.

  John Chaucer’s business career can be traced mainly through royal grants and appointments and through court appearances on his own behalf or on behalf of others. In 1343 he received a permit from the king to ship forty quarters of wheat from Ipswich to Flanders, with the proviso that he not take out of England any wool, hides, and wool-fells not customed. That grant, in effect, gave him large powers as an exporter, not only of wheat but of wool, etc., as long as the duty was paid; and there were few kinds of business in England more profitable—if one could get past the pirates—than trade with Flanders. In February 1347, when he was still in his mid-thirties—his son Geoffrey was now seven or eight—he was appointed deputy in the port of Southampton to the king’s chief butler, John of Wesenham; and in April of the same year, his duties were increased by his appointment as deputy to Wesenham for customs collection on cloth and beds exported by foreign merchants from Southampton, Portsmouth, and three other shipping centers. The job was an important one, since, as I’ve said, customs were the king’s primary source of revenue. John Chaucer gave up these offices, however, on October 28,1349, perhaps because the Black Death had brought him new land holdings, including the Hamo Copton place, where the Chaucers moved that same month. As we’ve seen, John Chaucer’s stepfather Richard, his half brother Thomas Heyroun, his wife’s uncle Hamo Copton, and Hamo Copton’s son Nicholas all died that year. Had John Chaucer’s family been living in London, caring for their sick, the biography of Geoffrey Chaucer, now aged nine, might well have ended here.

  As he grew older, increasingly sedate and substantial—that is, in 1355 and thereafter, or from his early forties onward—John Chaucer stood surety for loans and gave guarantee of good behavior for a number of Londoners of his acquaintance. He vouched for, among others, “two taverners, one of whom had been sued by a woman for drawing blood, two alien vintners who were later admitted to the freedom of the City of London, and a tailor thrown into the Tun for being a nightwalker [curfew breaker] in the City. Most interesting of the cases in which he stood surety is that in which he and four others gave security, on 9 December 1364, that Richard Lyons, London vintner, would cause no harm to Alice Perrers [Edward III’s mistress and friend of Geoffrey Chaucer] or prevent her from going where she pleased and doing the business of the king as well as her own.”18 This last especially teases the imagination. By 1364 Alice Perrers had a name for sharp practice—in fact for robbing people blind, even the king, whom she seems to have loved. Though parliament fretted, nothing could be done as long as Gaunt and his brother the Black Prince supported her. John Chaucer must have sympathized with his irate guild-fellow, undoubtedly one of that dazzling trickster’s victims. Yet Alice was one of John Chaucer’s son Geoffrey’s most influential advocates in Edward’s court. It was a perplexing dilemma for the loyal guildsman and father.

  John Chaucer was involved in numerous other legal squabbles. In Easter term, 1353, when he was forty, a charge of assault was brought against him in the Court of Common Pleas by one Geoffrey of Darsham, who claimed that at Iseldon (Islington, at that time a village some distance from London on the northeast outskirts) John Chaucer beat and wounded him and “committed other outrages to his grave injury and against the king’s peace.” How John Chaucer came out in this suit no one knows. In 1357 he was sued for debt by John Long, London citizen and fishmonger. The outcome of that suit, too, is unknown, but the odds are, Chaucer paid. Medieval merchants were forever putting off their fishmongers and grocers, but no medieval debt collectors, with the possible exception of moneylenders, were more pertinacious or more efficient in pursuit. He also saw duty on various occasions between 1353 and 1364 as a juryman of the Vintry Ward in the Court of Husting and once (in 1350) as a juror in the trial of a false coiner, that is, an alchemist, one of that miserable type whose frustrations Chaucer immortalized in the Canon’s Yeoman’s Tale—

  ful ofte it happeth so,

  The pot tobreketh, and farewel, al is go!

  Thisë metals been of so greet violencë,

  Oure wallës mowë nat make hem resistencë, [may]

  But if they weren wroght of lym and stoon,

  They per
cen so, and thurgh the wal they goon; [through]

  And somme of hem synken into the ground—

  Thus han we lost by tymës many a pound—

  And somme are scaterëd al the floor aboutë;

  Sommë lepe into the roof. Withouten doutë,

  Though that the feend noght in ourë sighte hym shewë,

  I trowe he with us be, that ilke shrewë! [same]

  We find further mention of John Chaucer in court records, but these should suffice. He was a solid citizen, a man who did his duty, for the most part honorably paid his bills, drank his Bordeaux, and, if need arose, defended his opinions, like any respectable medieval gentleman, with his cane, if not his truncheon.

  Geoffrey Chaucer’s father was also—like all men of his day who had social ambitions (and thousands who did not)—a military man, though whether a good one or bad one, no one knows. As we’ve seen already, it may have been partly to his service with Henry, earl of Lancaster, great-uncle of King Edward III, that he owed both his rise in London and, vastly more important from our point of view, the lifelong friendship of his son Geoffrey with the greatest magnate in England in his time, King Edward’s fourth son John of Gaunt, who would become, by marriage to the earl’s granddaughter, the duke of Lancaster.

  John Chaucer first bore arms alongside his older brother (that is, half brother) Thomas Heyroun in the disastrous campaign against the Scots which was initiated by Roger Mortimer and Queen Isabella, and led by boyish, overconfident King Edward III, then fifteen years old (about John Chaucer’s age), handsome and well liked and eager to prove his superiority to his bungling, lately deposed father, Edward II. (This was in 1327, three years before the earl of Lancaster’s attack on Mortimer, and eleven years before the journey with King Edward up the Rhine.) The London contingent of two hundred men, or rather men and boys, rode boldly north, joining with the rest of the army, followed by its train of provision wagons. In the beginning the army included tough Hainault mercenaries (the kingdom of Hainault included and extended west from what is now southern Belgium); but the hirelings got into fights with the citizens of York and had to be sent back south toward London, where they returned to the usual pastimes of unattached mercenary bands, drunkenness, theft, now and then lighthearted murder. The great French chronicler Froissart tells the story of the English campaign. The passages I quote are from Lord Berners’s sixteenth-century translation, with minor changes to keep the meaning clear.