THIRD PERIOD.  Chaucer’s masterpiece, the Canterbury Tales, one of the most famous works in all literature, fills the third or English period of his life.  The plan of the work is magnificent:  to represent the wide sweep of English life by gathering a motley company together and letting each class of society tell its own favorite stories.  Though the great work was never finished, Chaucer succeeded in his purpose so well that in the Canterbury Tales he has given us a picture of contemporary English life, its work and play, its deeds and dreams, its fun and sympathy and hearty joy of living, such as no other single work of literature has ever equaled.

PLAN OF THE CANTERBURY TALES.  Opposite old London, at the southern end of London Bridge, once stood the Tabard Inn of Southwark, a quarter made famous not only by the Canterbury Tales, but also by the first playhouses where Shakespeare had his training.  This Southwark was the point of departure of all travel to the south of England, especially of those mediaeval pilgrimages to the shrine of Thomas a Becket in Canterbury.  On a spring evening, at the inspiring time of the year when “longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,” Chaucer alights at the Tabard Inn, and finds it occupied by a various company of people bent on a pilgrimage.  Chance alone had brought them together; for it was the custom of pilgrims to wait at some friendly inn until a sufficient company were gathered to make the journey pleasant and safe from robbers that might be encountered on the way.  Chaucer joins this company, which includes all classes of English society, from the Oxford scholar to the drunken miller, and accepts gladly their invitation to go with them on the morrow.

At supper the jovial host of the Tabard Inn suggests that, to enliven the journey, each of the company shall tell four tales, two going and two coming, on whatever subject shall suit him best.  The host will travel with them as master of ceremonies, and whoever tells the best story shall be given a fine supper at the general expense when they all come back again,—­a shrewd bit of business and a fine idea, as the pilgrims all agree.

When they draw lots for the first story the chance falls to the Knight, who tells one of the best of the Canterbury Tales, the chivalric story of “Palamon and Arcite.”  Then the tales follow rapidly, each with its prologue and epilogue, telling how the story came about, and its effects on the merry company.  Interruptions are numerous; the narrative is full of life and movement, as when the miller gets drunk and insists on telling his tale out of season, or when they stop at a friendly inn for the night, or when the poet with sly humor starts his story of “Sir Thopas,” in dreary imitation of the metrical romances of the day, and is roared at by the host for his “drasty ryming.”  With Chaucer we laugh at his own expense, and are ready for the next tale.