Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales
THE AUTHOR AND HIS TIMES
Incomparably the greatest poet of the English Middle Ages, Geoffrey Chaucer lived in the second half of the 14th century and died in the first year of the 15th. He came from a middle-class family which rose in the world through four successive generations. The Chaucers were originally from France; chaussier means `shoemaker'. Geoffrey's grandfather was a wine merchant importing from France. Geoffrey's father, John was also a wine merchant in London. John once held a minor court office as Butler, and Geoffrey followed him in his career as a royal servant.
In his teens he fought in the English army in France, where he was captured; Edward III ransomed him in 1360. Little is known of him then until he is recorded as being in Spain in 1366. In 1367 he began travelling abroad on the King's business. In 1369 he fought in Picardy for John of Gaunt. In 1372 he went to Genoa and Florence on a diplomatic mission and in 1378 visited Italy again. Between his two Italian journeys he had been appointed controller of customs for wools, hides and wool-fells passing through the port of London. It was his function to collect taxes on these products being exported from England, an important and well-paid job.
Chaucer's name occurs four hundred times in the records, not as a poet. He lived in London and Kent, surviving the Black Death, the French wars, the Peasants' Revolt, the Lords Appellants challenge to Richard II, and Richard's deposition by Henry IV. Chaucer's writing reveals nothing of these, nor of his personal life. The poet's life was a varied one. He had many opportunities to view many ranks of society, both at home and abroad.
CHAUCER'S WORKS
Chaucer's work falls into his French, Italian and English periods. Before 1378 he was heavily influenced by French traditions. He translated fragments of the famous Roman de la Rose and wrote The Book of Duchess (1369), his first original book in imitation of French allegorical dream-vision poems. His later dream-visions (The Hose of Fame and The Parliament of Fowls) are increasingly influenced by Italian models. Chaucer's second visit to Italy in 1378 opened his eyes to a much richer tradition in the work of Dante, whose Divina Commedia he echoes many times, and Boccaccio whose Teseida and Filostrato became Chaucer's Knight's Tale and Troilus and Criseyde. The Canterbury Tales were probably conceived in 1385, when Chaucer went to Kent. The loose narrative framework enabled him to find room for some of his old stories, and to develop his dramatic and realistic abilities. This last phase contains Chaucer's most vigorous and artistically mature works. In Chaucer's large body of work, several traditions meet - popular, learned and courtly. He was a court poet, but as close to his audience as any populr entertainer. His formal education must have been rhetorical; he was full of French and Italian poetry, and he had scientific and philosophical interests.
Most people in the English society of Chaucer's time, about 600 years ago, viewed the world in a similar way and accepted the same beliefs. People then believed that behind the chaos and frustration of the day-to-day world there was a divine providence that gave a reason to everything, even though that reason wasn't always obvious. People in Chaucer's society could feel, at least much of the time, a sense of security about the world, knowing that it was following a divine plan. So behind all of Chaucer's satire and social put-downs in The Canterbury Tales is an unshaken belief in a divine order. It is easier to make fun of something when, underneath, you know you take it seriously. Also, as Chaucer knew, it is easier to write for a group of people who at least roughly share the same set of values, whether they be a cook, a parson, or an upper-class prioress.
Those values were represented in the medieval world by two structures: the class system and the church. In the Middle Ages, each individual was classified according to his or her “estate” or place on the social scale depending on birth, profession, and other factors (such as whether a woman was married - an important discussion of which is in the Wife of Bath's Tale as well as others). Each social grouping was like a symbol of the divine order, as immune to change as the hierarchy of angels. That's why a move from the peasant to the middle class, for example, was almost unheard of.
The middle class was in its infancy then. Chaucer himself was a member of what we would call the upper middle class; he received jobs at court without actually being a nobleman. He started his career as a page, serving meals and learning the role of a courtly gentleman. He quickly found out about the conflicting whims of human nature and the importance of the right appearances, both of which lessons he draws on in The Canterbury Tales. He evidently learned them well in real life, too, because as a diplomat he travelled for the king to France and Italy, where he was exposed to a number of literary influences that manifest themselves in The Canterbury Tales and other works. Chaucer foregrounds class structure very clearly in The Tales, presenting the Knight first and having him tell the first tale because he is the highest-ranking pilgrim present. The nobility, being at the top of the social scale, was responsible for cultivating virtue, keeping the peace by maintaining social order, and setting a moral example for the other classes to follow.
Apart from the worldly order but just as important was the church hierarchy. It, too, was a structure ordained by God. Yet within the church ranks there was incredible in-fighting between the “regular” clergy (those in convents and monasteries, like the Monk, Prioress, and Friar in the Tales) and the “secular” clergy (parish priests like the Parson and eventually perhaps the Clerk). Chaucer exemplifies this by showing an argument between the Pardoner (a church official of the secular variety) and the Friar, who is in direct competition with the Pardoner for money and religious influence over the parish villages they both travel through. The regular clergy, in particular, had a reputation for corruption at that time. Monasteries, which were supposed to be apart from the world and whose inhabitants were to avoid worldly goods, were almost as lavish as castles by the 14th century, and most people assumed that friars kept much of the money they were supposed to give to the poor. Yet even if the friar or pardoner were corrupt, giving to charity or buying a papal pardon could still help to find a way into heaven or at least take a few thousand years off in purgatory. Also, the social position of a friar or monk itself still commanded respect.
The search for salvation then explains the importance of pilgrimage in Chaucer's Tales. Pilgrims were ordinary people, not even necessarily very religious (as can be seen from the Prologue), who visited religious shrines as much for a holiday as for the heavenly benefits, with people like the Pardoner selling holy “relics” and souvenirs along the route. For some people, like the Wife of Bath, it was the only way to escape the pressures of home. Spring was a particularly popular pilgrimage time in England, and Chaucer duly begins this report of a pilgrimage with a description of the spring.
It is also not unusual to have a large, oddly assorted mixture of people heading out on a pilgrimage together. Travel was slow, roads were rutted, and there were highway robbers, accidents, and illness. Because of the festive atmosphere of many pilgrimages, some clerics frowned on them.
THE POEM
GENERAL PROLOGUE: CHARACTERS AND THEMES
The opening lines of the Canterbury Tales constitute a learned version of the “reverdi,” a simple lyric celebrating the return of Spring after the harshness of winter, a common form of medieval French lyric. It became widespread in English as well. The most famous example is the “Cuckoo song,” which dates from the twelfth century: “Sumer is i-comen in / Groweth seed and bloweth meed / And springth the wude nu. / Sing cuccu!” Little songs like this go back to earliest antiquity - the reassuring return of vegetation and fertility, and of the sun - especially in Northern Europe - after the cold and dark winter. The standard love lyric builds upon this return of spring song by adding human love. Spring brings a great outburst of energy in nature, the birds begin to sing again, and nature stirs its creatures to love: When Spring arrives, love comes with it. Here is a typical opening of a lover's complaint. These are all in the background of Chaucer's opening lines, echoing in the minds of his listeners. There is in the opening lines of the Canterbury Tales a kind of celebration of fertility, the same joyful welcome to spring that we have in “Sumer is icomen in”, and it has all the elements of the conventional first stanza of the love lyric - the singing bird, the springing flower, and the time - April or May, early spring.
On that sunny April day, a character-narrator called “Chaucer” happens to be at the Tabard Inn in Southwark, just south of London. He is going on his own pilgrimage to the cathedral at Canterbury where St. Thomas a Becket preached and was murdered. By chance, 29 other pilgrims come into the tavern, also headed for Canterbury. Chaucer chats with all of them, becomes part of their group, and decides to leave with them early the next morning. The reader learns about the group: who they are, what their station in life is, even what they are wearing. He proceeds to give us detailed descriptions of almost all of them, starting with the Knight, the highest ranking member of the group.
The Host then feeds the pilgrims plenty of food and wine, and takes the floor. He proposes that each pilgrim should tell two tales on the way to Canterbury and two more on the way back. Whoever tells the best tale - the most morally instructive as well as the most entertaining - will be treated to dinner by the rest on the return trip at the Host's inn. The scheme of two stories before and two after was never completed by Chaucer. Although The Canterbury Tales is an incomplete work (the pilgrims tell twenty four tales), the design of the work is clear enough. As in other medieval collections of popular story, such as the Arabian Thousand and One Nights or the Decameron by Chaucer's contemporary Boccaccio, the primary story forms a convenient framework to a miscellany of many different kinds of tales: romances, fairy-stories, bawdy tales, sermons, saints' lives, beast fables, allegories, etc.
The opening of the General Prologue bursts with spring, with new life. He uses many images of spring that would be familiar to a medievel audience: the April showers (familiar to us too) “piercing” March's dryness, the “licour” in each plant's “vein,” the breezes “inspiring” the crops. It is short, but enough of a description to give us a sense of waking up to new and exciting events. Then, instead of moving from the conventional spring setting to a description of courtly romantic or heroic deeds, as his audience might expect, he draws us into a very down-to-earth world. Spring is not romance; it is the time of year “when people long to go on pilgrimages.”
Chaucer's presentation of the pilgrims is original. Other poets created allegorical characters for moral purposes or to embody ideals such as courtly love. Chaucer does not deal in types, whether religious or courtly, but in portraits of real people. They are delineated by a combination of typical traits and vivid individual details, recalling the methods of portrait painters in the later Middle Ages. Chaucer will start with someone's beard, then hat, boots, tone of voice, and finally his political opinions!
THE PILGRIMS
They are all types familiar from medieval social satire.
THE KNIGHT
He comes first as the most high-ranking. He is everything an archetypal medieval knight should be: “worthy” (distinguished), and loving chivalry, truth, honour, “freedom” (selflessness), and courtesy. There's no irony here. He is “ever honoured” for his bravery. He has fought in the wars; his tunic is still stained by his chain-mail armour because he is heading on his pilgrimage straight from his latest Crusade. He is “gentil” (well bred), “verray” (true), in short, “parfit” (perfect). Chaucer uses all the conventional descriptions because the Knight represents an ideal. We hear more about the Knight's 15 “mortal battles” than about his appearance, since his actions are more important than his appearance. (All we know besides his tunic is that he is not gaudily dressed and has “good” horses.) His actions are more important to his audience (who are excited by news of foreign wars and travel) and also to his own code of knightly behaviour.
THE SQUIRE
The Squire is a young man of about 20, not yet as mature as his father. He is a “lover” and “lusty bachelor,” which meant a young man aspiring to knighthood. His hair is curled, telling us he is more concerned than his father about appearances, and he places importance on fighting for his lady's honour, not, like his father, for abstract ideals or God. Squires were apprenticed to knights before they could become knights, which explains why the Squire is “courteous, humble,” and carves meat at his father's table. He can sing and dance, joust, and write songs and poems - all important social accomplishments for a young man of his rank. He wears daring clothing - a short gown (equivalent in shock value to a mini-skirt), which would not be viewed kindly by priests warning against stylish clothing.
THE YEOMAN
The Knight's servant (or assistant) is dressed in green, has bright peacock feather arrows in his belt, and a “mighty bow” in his hand, so the narrator guesses he is a forester and hunter when not attending the Knight. He also wears a medal of St. Christopher, patron saint of foresters, around his neck. He is obviously proud of his abilities since he takes care not to let his arrow feathers droop.
THE PRIORESS
The description of her seems more fitting to a beloved lady in a romance than to a nun. She might have been a gentlewoman who entered a convent because she had no marriage dowry. Her smile is “simple and coy” (modest and sweet), words that come straight out of a romance, as Chaucer's audience would instantly recognize. She does not curse (or at least, only slightly, “by St. Eloy,” who happens to have been a handsome courtier before he turned to religion). Even her name, “Madam Eglantine,” meaning “sweet briar,” is a demure one that appears in several popular romances. Chaucer implies behaviour that is far from nun-like. But she is not evil just because she speaks French very well, has perfect table manners, and likes being proper. She is “so charitable” that she would weep “if she saw a mouse caught in a trap.” Some think this implies that she cares more about animals' suffering than people, especially in the fight of the tale she calmly tells about the way the Jews are punished for supposedly killing a Christian child. She also keeps small dogs as pets (strictly forbidden in a convent) and feeds them the finest meat, milk and bread.
The description of her table manners comes straight from the French Romance of the Rose, which Chaucer translated and which his audience would have known. The joke here is that in the romance this description is from a scene on how women attract and keep lovers!
Her physical description, too, comes straight from French romances. Chaucer uses every cliche in the book: her nose is “tretys” (shapely), her eyes “grey as glass,” her mouth “small, soft and red.” Her forehead, which technically should not even be visible in a nun's habit, is fair and broad, a style so fashionable that women in Chaucer's day used to pluck their hairlines to make their foreheads larger. Perhaps most intriguing of all, she wears a large gold brooch (jewelry is forbidden in convents) that reads, Amor vincit omnia (“love conquers all”). It is not clear how Chaucer means us to interpret the phrase. The original motto (from Virgil) referred to earthly love, but it was used by the medieval church to mean God's love. It is possible that the Prioress would think only of the godly connotations, but some readers believe the double meaning is no accident. The Prioress retains some vanities of her pre-convent days, but does Chaucer intend to show her as a hypocrite? Or, because of her lack of charity, as intentionally cruel? Certainly she is not everything a nun should be - compare her in idealism to the Knight - but you can also find a great deal of affection in Chaucer's picture of her.
THE MONK
The Monk's description is the first that is really noticeably sarcastic. Monks are supposed to stay apart from the world, not go out for “venery” (hunting) - a word that, along with Venus, carries sexual connotations, since it also means “hunting” women. All the comparisons are ironic: his bridle bells are as clear as the chapel bell he is supposed to be in charge of; his face seems “anointed” like one of the blessed, which he is clearly not; he is not “pale as a ghost” or spirit, which a monk should be. There's a “love knot” under his chin, which Chaucer calls “curious”.
THE FRIAR
A Friar (Latin frater, brother), though a member of a religious community, is not bound to a monastic life of prayer, but preaches the gospel out in the world, living off charity. The friars were widely considered to abuse the freedom given them as mendicants and travellers. By the 14th century, friars were almost totally corrupt. They were known for flattering the rich and deceiving the poor, and especially for seducing women in outright disregard for their vow of celibacy. This one, as the text indicates, became involved in arranging marriages, selling cheap articles like a peddlar, spreading gossip and singing frivolous songs.
THE MERCHANT
The merchant is as smart and worldly as the friar, but more solemn and respectable. He became rich by trading with European countries and speculating in foreign money markets. His `forking beard' was fashionable among middle-class men of Edward III's day.
THE CLERK
If the Merchant's picture is somewhat tainted, we get a sense of great affection for the Clerk - a model university student reading for a career in the Church, a man after Chaucer's own heart who spends his money on books. He looks thin and studious, the way the Monk and Friar ought to look but do not. Even his horse is lean “as a rake.” He is a philosopher who borrows money for books.
THE SERGEANT OF THE LAW
The Man of law is diligent and learned like the cleric, but more concerned with fine details than with philosophical problems, using his learning for material gain rather than for its own sake. He knew every law and case since King William I.
THE FRANKLIN
He is wealthy like the lawyer, and also connected with the law. He was born a free man, not a serf, but was not a member of the nobility. He followed the philosophy of Epicurus, who taught that pleasure was the main aim of life.
THE FIVE TRADESMEN
The Haberdasher (sells small items such as needles, pins, ribbons and button), Carpenter, Weaver (makes woollen or linen cloth), Dyer, and Tapestry Maker are prosperous. Their wives wish they were aldermen; they would love to be called “madame” and be honoured by entering the church first. This is a vivid picture of rather petty men, although the guilds to which they belonged were important union-type groups that supported restoration work on churches and other significant social functions. Guilds had enough political power so that their members could easily have had enough land to be elected aldermen.
THE COOK
The Cook is an excellent chef, but less excellent a human being. He “knowe a draughte of Londoun ale” perhaps too well, and the real giveaway is the open sore on his shin, which is unappetizing and might be syphilitic. His evident bad habits are reinforced by the tale he tells, unfinished, about an unsavoury young cook who corrupts others with his bad habits. He falls from his horse at the end of the pilgrimage.
THE SHIPMAN
The Shipman knows his seafaring business and tides and routes. Chaucer admires his skills because England's strength as a medieval superpower depended on its navy. But “of nice conscience took he no keep,” and he is not above watering down the wine he brings from Bordeaux for men like the Merchant and the Tradesmen. He is not averse to killing either, sending his prisoners “hoom to every lond” by water, i.e. overboard. His tale is of a monk who is as much of a pirate as he is himself, abusing the hospitality of a kindly merchant.
THE DOCTOR OF PHYSIC
The physician is even more than other pilgrims a master of his art, which included astrology as well as other sciences. His authorities are the ancient and Arabic doctors. His professional skills are more impressive than his personal character.
THE WIFE OF BATH
She is one of Chaucer's most lively inventions. She thinks very highly of herself and her skill as a weaver. She is entitled to make the first offering at church services, an honour carrying great social prestige. She shows off her Sunday clothes with evident pride, including “ten pounds” of “coverchiefs,” finely textured veils arranged over her head. But we're more interested in her famous love life than in her fashions. She has had five husbands - later, in her Prologue to the tale she gives the histories of all five - not to mention “other company in youth”. She is an old hand at pilgrimages, and, it is implied, in the loose morals that sometimes go along with them. She is gap-toothed, a medieval sign that had to do with sexual accomplishment, or with a bold, faithless nature, or with travelling.
THE PARSON
He is the ideal priest, free from the faults both of the regular clergy already described and of some parish priests. He cares for his flock rather than himself, and his treasure is in heaven. He is described in terms of his virtues rather than his tastes or appearance.
THE PLOUGHMAN
The ploughman is brother to the Parson, and is equally ideal. With the Knight, the two brothers express English medieval social ideals. He is a hard worker who loves God and his neighbour, serves others and pays his tithes. He is a small tenant farmer and a free man rather than a serf.
THE MILLER
The Miller certainly is vivid: he is brawny, big-boned, a good wrestler, thickset. He can rip a door off its hinges. His red beard matches the red bristles that stick out of the wart on his nose. He stands for the medieval conception of a miller as the most important, and the most dishonest, tenant on a manor farm. His physical description shows him as shameless, easily angered, and lecherous, according to medieval standards. He leads the group out of town with a bagpipe - which probably has a sexual reference - and uses his big lungs to play it.
THE MANCIPLE
He is a servant of a college or an inn of court who buys provisions for the “temple,” the courts of law, and is shrewd in his buying. Chaucer asks innocently, “Is not it wonderful that such a simple man can outsmart all the learned ones?” This idea shows up again and again throughout the Tales, with varying results.
THE REEVE
He was a serf but with more power than an ordinary peasant: the Lord depended on him to administer his estates. Many aspects of his appearance suggest a hard, ungenerous man: thinness, shaven beard and hair, lean legs, rusty sword, riding at the back of the procession. He was knowledgeable in every branch of farming. He is as cunning as the manciple, and as subltle but is described as having a greater diversity of skills.
THE SUMMONER
The Reeve is a model of virtue compared to the Summoner. His duty is to summon wrong-doers to appear before the special Church courts. This accounts for his attempts to speak Latin, which he would have heard at the court sessions. His ugly, diseased complexion was caused by immoral habits. Many summoners collected money under the table for extortion. Not surprising for his personality, the Summoner tells a vulgar tale to get back at the Friar's nasty tale about a summoner. The Summoner tells of a corrupt friar who tricks a rich man and is in turn paid back.
THE PARDONER
A parasite who makes his living out of the religious feelings of simple people. He sells pieces of paper (`pardons') which apparently come from the Pope and have the power to absolve people from their sins. The Pardoner tricks people into buying fake relics of saints such as a pillowcase that he says was “Our Lady's veil,” or a piece of sail allegedly belonging to St. Peter. No wonder he makes more money in a day than the poor Parson does in two months. There's something suspect in the fact that the Pardoner sings “Come hither, love, to me,” to the Summoner, who accompanies him in a strong bass voice. Some see more than a hint of sexual perversion in this young man who has thin locks of yellow hair that he wears without a hood because he thinks it is the latest style. His small voice and the fact that he has no beard leads Chaucer to suspect “he were a gelding or a mare” - a eunuch or effeminate man.
THE HOST
Finally we meet the Host (which is another name for Christ). He is a large man, very masculine (in contrast to the Pardoner), with bright eyes that miss nothing. He is fit to be a “marshall in a hall,” a master of ceremonies, which he indeed becomes for the pilgrims. He has the commanding presence to get his plan accepted before it is even told, as long as the pilgrims stand by his judgment - another Christlike reference. The group accepts him as the guide, “governour,” judge, and counter of the tales. Tidbits of his personality appear throughout the Tales: he is boisterous, well educated, annoyed by his shrewish wife, a jokester, a philosopher; in other words, a full-blooded, complex man. He is a fair leader and promises a free dinner to the best tale-teller, which some see as a moral or parody of a celestial reward. Chaucer carefully mixes religious and worldly references throughout the Tales.
PLOTS OF FOUR TALES
THE KNIGHT'S TALE
PLOT
Duke Theseus of Athens wins the country of the Amazons and marries Queen Hippolyta, taking her and her beautiful sister Emelye back to Athens. To his amazement, he sees women wailing, but not because of his return. These women have lost their husbands during the siege of Thebes, and Thebes' cruel tyrant Creon refuses to bury the bodies. Theseus immediately vows revenge and rides to Thebes, where he vanquishes Creon and returns their husbands' bones to the women.
In a pile of bodies, pillagers find the young royal Theban knights Palamon and Arcite, who are cousins. They are still alive. Theseus sends them to Athens to be imprisoned for life, and returns home.
Locked in a tower, Palamon one May morning sees Emelye walking in the garden, and falls instantly and madly in love with her. As he explains his love to Arcite, his cousin also spies Emelye and he too is captured by her beauty. immediately the cousins, who have been as close as brothers since birth, become sworn enemies over the love of Emelye.
Another duke, Perotheus, arrives in Athens to visit Duke Theseus. Perotheus also knows Arcite well, and when he hears the knight is Theseus' prisoner, he begs for Arcite's release. Theseus agrees on condition that Arcite never be seen in any of Theseus' lands, on pain of death. So Arcite returns to Thebes, heartbroken that he can never again see Emelye. At least Palamon, locked in the tower, can look at her, he moans. Meanwhile Palamon sighs that he is wretched, but lucky Arcite can gather an army in Thebes and return to conquer Athens to win the lady.
Finally Arcite can't stand it anymore and risks returning to Athens to see Emelye. He is so pale and thin from lovesickness that he's unrecognizable, so he is able to become a page at Theseus' court, still worshipping Emelye from afar.
One morning Arcite is walking in a grove, exclaiming how unfair it is that he can't even disclose his identity. What he doesn't know is that Palamon has escaped from prison and is overhearing every word from behind a bush. He leaps out and vows to kill Arcite for loving Emelye.
The two agree to meet the next day and fight to the death, but when they do, Theseus, Queen Hippolyta, and Emelye happen along and see the battle. Palamon tells Theseus the whole story, declares his and Arcite's love for Emelye, and admits they both should die for disobeying him. Theseus has pity and declares a tournament joust instead. Each knight may enlist one hundred other knights and whoever wins the battle shall have Emelye.
Palamon prays to Venus, goddess and planet of love. Arcite prays to Mars, god of war. In the heavens, Saturn promises Venus that her favorite, Palamon, shall win. Palamon is captured in the tournament, and Arcite wins. But as Arcite comes forward to accept Emelye, Saturn shakes the ground so that Arcite's horse falls and kills him. As he dies, Arcite asks Emelye to have pity on Palamon if she ever marries.
Years pass, and when mourning for Arcite is over, Theseus declares that the world must go on. He orders Emelye and Palamon to be married, since Palamon has suffered so long for her love. With this happy event, the tale ends.
THE MILLER'S TALE
PLOT
The Miller's Tale is not supposed to follow the Knight's Tale, for the Monk, who is next to the Knight in the social order, should go next. But the drunken Miller cuts in, insisting that he will tell a tale first or else leave the group. The Reeve tells him to shut up, but the Miller insists.
A well-meaning but stupid carpenter named John has a lodger, a poor scholar named Nicholas. Nicholas buries himself in astrology books, likes to play music and mess around with women, and lives off his friends. John, meanwhile, has a young wife, only eighteen, named Alison, of whom he's extremely jealous.
Not surprisingly, Nicholas starts to make a pass at Alison one day while John is away. She protests only a little before agreeing that if Nicholas can find a way to keep John from finding out, she'll sleep with him. Don't worry, says Nicholas, a clerk can surely fool a carpenter.
Meanwhile, a parish clerk named Absalom, who is as particular as Nicholas about his appearance and his appeal to women, sees Alison at church and decides to woo her. He sings under the bedroom window that night, waking up John in the bargain. He tries everything he can think of, but Alison is so infatuated with Nicholas that she pays no attention.
Nicholas comes up with a plan that will let him and Alison spend all night together. He stays in his room for days, until John gets worried and breaks down the door.
Nicholas warns him, in confidence, that he has seen a terrible omen in his astrology books. There will be a flood that will make Noah's flood look like a drizzle. In order to be saved, Nicholas tells John that he must get three large tubs and hang them from the roof until the flood reaches that high; then they can cut the ropes and float away.
But you must not sleep with your wife that night, Nicholas warns, because there must be no sin between you.
Gullible John believes every word. On the appointed night he strings up the boats and falls asleep in one of them. Needless to say, Nicholas and Alison live it up.
But Absalom, having heard that John is out of town, hightails it to the house and stands under the window again, begging for a kiss. As a joke, Alison agrees, and under cover of night she sticks her rear end out the window for Absalom to kiss.
He gets furious and his love for Alison evaporates. He runs to a blacksmith and takes a hot iron back to the house, calling to Alison that he wants to give her a gold ring. This time Nicholas decides to put his rear end out the window to be kissed.
“Speak, dear,” says Absalom, since it's too dark to see. Nicholas farts.
He gets a hot poker where it hurts, and shrieks, “Help! Water!” The cry wakes up John, who thinks the cry of “Water!” means the flood has begun. He cuts the rope and crashes to the ground, fainting and breaking his arm in the process. The tale ends with John the laughingstock of the town, Nicholas amply repaid for his deceit, and Alison having gotten the “plumbing” she desired.
THE NUN'S PRIEST'S TALE
PLOT
In the introduction to the tale, the Knight interrupts the Monk and tells him to stop telling his tragic tales- they're annoying. The monk refuses to tell a different one, so the Host turns to the Nun's Priest, Sir John, and asks him to tell a merry tale. The priest obliges.
The story begins with a poor widow who supports herself and her two daughters as best she can by raising a few animals. She's contented because her desires are moderate; she wants no more than what she has.
The scene shifts to the yard, where Chanticleer the rooster, the best crower you've ever heard, rules over his seven hens. His favorite is Pertelote, who sings with him (this story takes place in the days when animals could speak and sing, we're told) and sits next to him on his perch at night.
Pertelote wakes before dawn to hear Chanticleer moaning in his sleep because of a nightmare. She asks what's wrong. He's afraid of the dream, in which a doglike animal wants to kill him. Pertelote taunts him for being afraid of a stupid dream, which doesn't mean anything. Bad dreams come from eating too much, she says, and offers to make him a laxative that will cure his nightmares.
Chanticleer launches into a long defense of dreams that foretell what will happen. But he ends by saying that with his fair lady by his side he is so filled with joy that he's not afraid of nightmares or dreams.
It's now daylight, so he ignores his fears and flies into the yard, mounting Pertelote twenty times by midmorning. But's it's unfortunate that he took his wife's advice to dismiss his dream, for the fox is waiting for him in the bushes to carry him off.
The rooster is terrified, but the fox tells Chanticleer he doesn't mean to harm him. He has heard that he's a marvelous crower, as good as his father was. Chanticleer's father and mother, the fox says slyly, were once guests at his house. Could Chanticleer imitate his father's crowing?
Big headed from the flattery, Chanticleer closes his eyes to crow. As he stretches his neck, the fox grabs him, throws him across his back, and dashes off. The hens, cackling madly, begin the world's sorriest lament, which brings out the widow and her daughters. A chase scene ensues.
As they're running, Chanticleer tells the fox that if he were the fox, he'd turn and tell the crowd that it's too late, the bird is his. Good idea, says the fox, and of course as soon as he opens his mouth, Chanticleer escapes up into a tree. The fox tries to lure him down, but Chanticleer vows not to make the same mistake twice. The tale ends with the narrator warning that even though this is just a story about animals, there's a moral in it for people too.
In the epilogue the Host praises Sir John, not only for his tale, but for his manhood, making cracks about the hens he would need if he were a layman instead of a priest. The priest remains silent.
THE REEVE'S TALE
Oswald the Reeve, who is a carpenter, takes offense at the Miller's tale about a cuckolded carpenter, and says he'll pay him back in “force”- in the same coarse language and even in the same form (the French bawdy fabliau). The Reeve also gripes because the Miller's carpenter, like the Reeve, is an old man who can only talk about the things he can't do anymore. (Like his enemy, the Reeve is concerned with sexual matters.)
The rowdy tale concerns a Miller who steals grain, especially from a Cambridge college that takes its corn to him to be ground. Once, when the miller has stolen more than usual because no one's there to watch him, two students, Alan and John, decide to oversee the grinding. The miller decides he can outwit the students despite their highclass education. He unties their horse, and while Alan and John chase after it, the miller steals half their grain. By the time the horse is caught, it's dark and the students are forced to ask the miller to put them up. He does, although there's only one room. The miller and his wife are in one bed, the students are in another, and the miller's twenty-year-old daughter is in a third. To get even with the miller for playing a trick on them, one of the students sleeps with the daughter, and the other with the wife, who thinks she is sleeping with the miller! When the miller finds out, he starts beating up Alan. The wife, thinking the two students are fighting, slams the miller on the head with a stick. The beating and cuckolding, says the Reeve, is what the miller deserves for being such a liar and cheat.
As in the Miller's Tale, justice is done to those who deserve it, more or less. While the actions in the Reeve's Tale are just as farfetched as in the Miller's Tale, it is not as rollicking and funny, just as the Reeve is not as loud and boisterous as the Miller.
MEDIEVAL SOCIETY
Medieval social theory divided the King's subjects into three estates: the military, the clergy and the laity. Chaucer observes this division, although the clerk and parson are included with the laity.
The Military: Knight, Squire, Yeoman.
The Clergy: a) the higher and more prosperous ones: the Prioress, the Monk, the Friar, a Canon of Religion, the Pardoner; b) the humbler: the Nun, the Parson, three priests journeying with the Prioress.
The Laity: a) financially independent upper-middle class: the Merchant, the Clerk, the Sergeant of the law, the Franklin, Five Guildsmen, the Cook, the Shipman, the Doctor of physic, the Wife of Bath; b) the lower-middle class who work for the upper-middle class: the Miller, the Manciple, the Reeve, the Summoner; c) between the two groups: the Parson and Ploughman, free men who belong with the gentle classes but, because of their honesty, are poorer than their social inferiors.
Chaucer had some intention of creating a representative cross-section of society, or rather of the middle class, since both top and bottom society are excluded. Pilgrimages would not include serfs or poor peasants, who were not free to travel; a nobleman would travel with his retinue; and women would normally have to stay at home, unless they were independent, like the Prioress (with her attendant nuns) or the Wife of Bath (an independent widow) - two women among twenty men.
LITERARY GENRES IN THE CANTERBURY TALES
Romances: The Knight's Tale, the Wife of Bath's Tale.
Saints' lives and pious tales: the Prioress' Tale, the Physician's Tale, the Friar's Tale.
Exempla (used to illustrate a sermon, thesis or argument): The Monk's Tale, the Summoner's Tale, the Manciple's Tale, The Pardoner's Tale and The Nun Priest's Tale.
Prose Tracts: The Man of Law's Tale, the Parson's Tale.
The Fabliaux: the Reeve's Tale, the Miller's Tale, the Cook's Tale, the Shipman's Tale, the Merchant's Tale.
THE CANTERBURY TALES
The Prologue is an introduction that sets the framework for the Canterbury Tales. Chaucer devotes most of this general prologue to describing the pilgrims.
PROLOGUE
When April with his showers sweet with fruit
The drought of March has pierced unto the root
And bathed each vein with liquor that has power
To generate therein and sire the flower;
5 When Zephyr also has, with his sweet breath,
Quickened again, in every holt and heath,
The tender shoots and buds, and the young sun
Into the Ram one half his course has run,
And many little birds make melody
10 That sleep through all the night with open eye
(So Nature pricks them on to ramp and rage)
Then do folk long to go on pilgrimage,
And palmeres to go seeking out strange strands,
To distant shrines well known in sundry lands.
15 And specially from every shire's end
Of England they to Canterbury wend,
The holy blessed martyr there to seek
Who helped them when they lay so ill and weal
Befell that, in that season, on a day
20 In Southwerk, at the Tabard, as I lay
Ready to start upon my pilgrimage
To Canterbury, full of devout homage,
There came at nightfall to that hostelry
Some nine and twenty in a company
25 Of sundry persons who had chanced to fall
In fellowship, and pilgrims were they all
That toward Canterbury town would ride.
The rooms and stables spacious were and wide,
And well we there were eased, and of the best.
30 And briefly, when the sun had gone to rest,
So had I spoken with them, every one,
That I was of their fellowship anon,
And made agreement that we'd early rise
To take the road, as you I will apprise.
35 But none the less, whilst I have time and space,
Before yet farther in this tale I pace,
It seems to me accordant with reason
To inform you of the state of every one
Of all of these, as it appeared to me,
40 And who they were, and what was their degree,
And even how arrayed there at the inn;
And with a knight thus will I first begin.
[THE KNIGHT]
A knight there was, and he a worthy man,
Who, from the moment that he first began
45 To ride about the world, loved chivalry,
Truth, honour, freedom and all courtesy.
Full worthy was he in his liege-lord's war,
And therein had he ridden (none more far)
As well in Christendom as heathenesse,
50 And honoured everywhere for worthiness.
At Alexandria, he, when it was won;
Full oft the table's roster he'd begun
Above all nations' knights in Prussia.
In Latvia raided he, and Russia,
55 No christened man so oft of his degree.
In far Granada at the siege was he
Of Algeciras, and in Belmarie.
At Ayas was he and at Satalye
When they were won; and on the Middle Sea
60 At many a noble meeting chanced to be.
Of mortal battles he had fought fifteen,
And he'd fought for our faith at Tramissene
Three times in lists, and each time slain his foe.
This self-same worthy knight had been also
65 At one time with the lord of Palatye
Against another heathen in Turkey:
And always won he sovereign fame for prize.
Though so illustrious, he was very wise
And bore himself as meekly as a maid.
70 He never yet had any vileness said,
In all his life, to whatsoever wight.
He was a truly perfect, gentle knight.
But now, to tell you all of his array,
His steeds were good, but yet he was not gay.
75 Of simple fustian wore he a jupon
Sadly discoloured by his habergeon;
For he had lately come from his voyage
And now was going on this pilgrimage.
[THE SQUIRE]
With him there was his son, a youthful squire,
80 A lover and a lusty bachelor,
With locks well curled, as if they'd laid in press.
Some twenty years of age he was, I guess.
In stature he was of an average length,
Wondrously active, aye, and great of strength.
85 He'd ridden sometime with the cavalry
In Flanders, in Artois, and Picardy,
And borne him well within that little space
In hope to win thereby his lady's grace.
Prinked out he was, as if he were a mead,
90 All full of fresh-cut flowers white and red.
Singing he was, or fluting, all the day;
He was as fresh as is the month of May.
Short was his gown, with sleeves both long and wide.
Well could be sit on horse, and fairly ride.
95 He could make songs and words thereto indite,
Joust, and dance too, as well as sketch and write.
So hot he loved that, while night told her tale,
He slept no more than does a nightingale.
Courteous he, and humble, willing and able,
100 And carved before his father at the table.
[THE PRIORESS]
There was also a nun, a prioress,
Who, in her smiling, modest was and coy;
120 Her greatest oath was but “By Saint Eloy!”
And she was known as Madam Eglantine.
Full well she sang the services divine,
Intoning through her nose, becomingly;
And fair she spoke her French, and fluently,
125 After the school of Stratford-at-the-Bow,
For French of Paris was not hers to know.
At table she had been well taught withal,
And never from her lips let morsels fall,
Nor dipped her fingers deep in sauce, but ate
130 With so much care the food upon her plate
That never driblet fell upon her breast.
In courtesy she had delight and zest.
Her upper lip was always wiped so clean
That in her cup was no iota seen
135 Of grease, when she had drunk her draught of wine.
Becomingly she reached for meat to dine.
And certainly delighting in good sport,
She was right pleasant, amiable - in short.
She was at pains to counterfeit the look
140 Of courtliness, and stately manners took,
And would be held worthy of reverence.
But, to say something of her moral sense,
She was so charitable and piteous
That she would weep if she but saw a mouse
145 Caught in a trap, though it were dead or bled.
She had some little dogs, too, that she fed
On roasted flesh, or milk and fine white bread.
But sore she'd weep if one of them were dead,
Or if men smote it with a rod to smart:
150 For pity ruled her, and her tender heart.
Right decorous her pleated wimple was;
Her nose was fine; her eyes were blue as glass;
Her mouth was small and therewith soft and red;
But certainly she had a fair forehead;
155 It was almost a full span broad, I own,
For, truth to tell, she was not undergrown.
Neat was her cloak, as I was well aware.
Of coral small about her arm she'd bear
A string of beads and gauded all with green;
160 And therefrom hung a brooch of golden sheen
Whereon there was first written a crowned “A,”
And under, Amor vincit omnia.
[THE WIFE OF BATH]
There was a housewife come from Bath, or near,
Who - sad to say - was deaf in either ear.
At making cloth she had so great a bent
450 She bettered those of Ypres and even of Ghent.
In all the parish there was no goodwife
Should offering make before her, on my life;
And if one did, indeed, so wroth was she
It put her out of all her charity.
455 Her kerchiefs were of finest weave and ground;
I dare swear that they weighed a full ten pound
Which, of a Sunday, she wore on her head.
Her hose were of the choicest scarlet red,
Close gartered, and her shoes were soft and new.
460 Bold was her face, and fair, and red of hue.
She'd been respectable throughout her life,
With five churched husbands bringing joy and strife,
Not counting other company in youth;
But thereof there's no need to speak, in truth.
465 Three times she'd journeyed to Jerusalem;
And many a foreign stream she'd had to stem;
At Rome she'd been, and she'd been in Boulogne,
In Spain at Santiago, and at Cologne.
She could tell much of wandering by the way:
470 Gap-toothed was she, it is no lie to say.
Upon an ambler easily she sat,
Well wimpled, aye, and over all a hat
As broad as is a buckler or a targe;
A rug was tucked around her buttocks large,
475 And on her feet a pair of sharpened spurs.
In company well could she laugh her slurs.
The remedies of love she knew, perchance,
For of that art she'd learned the old, old dance.
[THE PARSON]
There was a good man of religion, too,
480 A country parson, poor, I warrant you;
But rich he was in holy thought and work.
He was a learned man also, a clerk,
Who Christ's own gospel truly sought to preach;
Devoutly his parishioners would he teach.
485 Benign he was and wondrous diligent,
Patient in adverse times and well content,
As he was ofttimes proven; always blithe,
He was right loath to curse to get a tithe,
But rather would he give, in case of doubt,
490 Unto those poor parishioners about,
Part of his income, even of his goods.
Enough with little, coloured all his moods.
Wide was his parish, houses far asunder,
But never did he fail, for rain or thunder,
495 In sickness, or in sin, or any state,
To visit to the farthest, small and great,
Going afoot, and in his hand, a stave.
This fine example to his flock he gave,
That first he wrought and afterwards he taught;
500 Out of the gospel then that text he caught,
And this figure he added thereunto
That, if gold rust, what shall poor iron do?
For if the priest be foul, in whom we trust,
What wonder if a layman yield to lust?
505 And shame it is, if priest take thought for keep,
A shitty shepherd, shepherding clean sheep.
Well ought a priest example good to give,
By his own cleanness, how his flock should live.
He never let his benefice for hire,
510 Leaving his flock to flounder in the mire,
And ran to London, up to old Saint Paul's
To get himself a chantry there for souls,
Nor in some brotherhood did he withhold;
But dwelt at home and kept so well the fold
515 That never wolf could make his plans miscarry;
He was a shepherd and not mercenary.
And holy though he was, and virtuous,
To sinners he was not impiteous,
Nor haughty in his speech, nor too divine,
520 But in all teaching prudent and benign.
To lead folk into Heaven but by stress
Of good example was his busyness.
But if some sinful one proved obstinate,
Be who it might, of high or low estate,
525 Him he reproved, and sharply, as I know.
There is nowhere a better priest, I trow.
He had no thirst for pomp or reverence,
Nor made himself a special, spiced conscience,
But Christ's own lore, and His apostles' twelve
530 He taught, but first he followed it himselve.
[THE MILLER]
The miller was a stout churl, be it known,
Hardy and big of brawn and big of bone;
Which was well proved, for when he went on lam
550 At wrestling, never failed he of the ram.
He was a chunky fellow, broad of build;
He'd heave a door from hinges if he willed,
Or break it through, by running, with his head.
His beard, as any sow or fox, was red,
555 And broad it was as if it were a spade.
Upon the coping of his nose he had
A wart, and thereon stood a tuft of hairs,
Red as the bristles in an old sow's ears;
His nostrils they were black and very wide.
560 A sword and buckler bore he by his side.
His mouth was like a furnace door for size.
He was a jester and could poetize,
But mostly all of sin and ribaldries.
He could steal corn and full thrice charge his fees;
565 And yet he had a thumb of gold, begad.
A white coat and blue hood he wore, this lad.
A bagpipe he could blow well, be it known,
And with that same he brought us out of town.
………
Now have I told you briefly, in a clause,
The state, the array, the number, and the cause
Of the assembling of this company
720 In Southwark, at this noble hostelry
Known as the Tabard Inn, hard by the Bell.
But now the time is come wherein to tell
How all we bore ourselves that very night
When at the hostelry we did alight.
725 And afterward the story I engage
To tell you of our common pilgrimage.
But first, I pray you, of your courtesy,
You'll not ascribe it to vulgarity
Though I speak plainly of this matter here,
730 Retailing you their words and means of cheer;
Nor though I use their very terms, nor lie.
For this thing do you know as well as I:
When one repeats a tale told by a man,
He must report, as nearly as he can,
735 Every least word, if he remember it,
However rude it be, or how unfit;
Or else he may be telling what is untrue,
Embellishing and fictionizing too.
He may not spare, although it were his brother;
740 He must as well say one word as another.
Christ spoke right broadly out, in holy writ,
And, you know well, there's nothing low in it.
And Plato says, to those able to read:
“The word should be the cousin to the deed.”
745 Also, I pray that you'll forgive it me
If I have not set folk, in their degree
Here in this tale, by rank as they should stand.
My wits are not the best, you'll understand.
In The Canterbury Tales Chaucer makes use chiefly (1) of the seven-line iambic pentameter stanza (rhyming abab bcc), known as the Chaucerian stanza, or Rime Royal, or (2) iambic pentameter rhyming couplets. The iambic pentameter couplet is the `heroic couplet' of Neoclassical fame, except that the later writers like Dryden and Pope preferred to `close' it to a greater degree, i.e. to bring the thought to a more definite conclusion at the end of the second line.
liquor: here - moisture.
holt: a cultivated tract or plantation.
young sun: `young' because it is early in the year. The medieval calendar started the year at the vernal equinox in March rather than on the first of January.
the Ram: the constellation of Aries, which was, in classical astronomy, the spot in the heavens at which the sun was located at the time of the vernal equinox; hence it was the first constellation of the year.
palmeres: pilgrims.
holy ... martyr: Thomas à Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, slain during a Church and crown dispute during the reign of Henry II of England. His assassination took place in 1170, and he was canonized in 1173. His position in the quarrel with Henry was construed by the common people as in their favour, and he was immensely popular after death; his tomb became the most famous shrine in medieval England.
Southwerk: the bustling suburb of London at the beginning of the Canterbury road.
the Tabard: the tabard, a short, sleeveless coat, was the sign of the inn. There was actually an inn by this name in Southwark during Chaucer's time.
eased: entertained, set at ease.
Alexandria, etc.: The Knight is a veteran of many wars of the fourteenth century. Judging by the places mentioned, he may have been in large part in the service of King Edward III. His many enterprises mark him as a practically a soldier of fortune, but always with the backing of a prince or lord and always in a cause which would have been regarded by his contemporaries as reputable or honourable. King Peter of Cyprus, a scion of one of the noted chivalric families of France, was a brilliant leader of these adventerous expeditions; one of his feats was the capture of Alexandria in 1365.
Prussia: Apparently the Knight was a member of the Teutonic Order of Knights, one of the great chivalric associations of the Middle Ages.
Middle Sea: the Mediterranean.
Palatye: probably a Turkish heathen allied to King Peter of Cyprus.
fustian: a thick cotton cloth.
jupon: a tunic.
habergeon: hauberk, coat of mail.
squire: a young candidate for knighthood.
within ... space: considering the short period of time he had been training for knighthood.
prinked out: decorated with embroidery.
mead: meadow.
fluting: playing the flute. The list of accomplishments given in the description of the Squire represents what was expected of a young man in courtly life.
indite: compose the words of the song.
carve ... table: it was a regular duty of a squire to do the carving before a meal.
coy: quiet.
Saint Eloy: St. Eloi, St. Eligius, chosen here partly for the sake of rhyme, partly for the ladylike sound of his name, and possibly because he was a courtier turned saint.
Stratford-at-the-Bow: a nunnery of St. Leonard's in Bromley, Middlesex, adjoining Stratford-Bow. The Prioress spoke the kind of French one would hear in a nunnery of England, not the French of Paris.
counterfeit: to duplicate or imitate the behaviour.
gauded: covered with large beads.
a crowned `A': apparently a large A surmounted by a crown.
Amor ... omnia: love conquers all.
Ypres ... Ghent: Ypres and Ghent were two important centres of the Flemish wool trade.
ground: texture.
gap-toothed: with teeth set far apart, a characteristic the medieval mind associated with sensuality.
ambler: an ambling horse.
targe: shield.
curse ... tithe: to excommunicate for nonpayment of tithes. The actual excommunication would, of course, have to be pronounced by the bishop.
let ... hire: he did not rent his office to someone else while he went up to London, etc.
chantry: a provision whereby a priest was to sing a daily mass for the repose of a soul.
brotherhood ... withhold: to be retained as a chaplain by a guild - an additional source of income.
impiteous: spiteful.
spiced conscience: oversweetened feelings; the parson was not too fastidious in his feelings or dealings with his parishioners.
at wrestling ... the ram: at country fairs wrestling was one of the favourite diversions; the prize for such sports was often some livestock, such as a ram or goat.
running: the miller could break down any door by running at it with his head.
a thumb of gold: may refer to a miller's skill in testing the fineness of flour by its feel, or, as Baugh states, “the proverb `An honest miller has a thumb of gold' meant that there were no honest millers”; or may refer to the habit of placing his thumb in the scales.
Plato: His works were probably known to Chaucer, not through the original Greek but through Latin derivatives, especially Boethius' Consolation of Philosophy.
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