“CHAUCEREAN REALESM”!
A S‘E’USY (31‘s? MEEE‘SKS EN
“FEE CARTEREEEE? P‘E‘LGQEEAEE

must: gm- fiw Dawn of pin. D.
EECHEGAR STEEE WIVES???
Camel Lee ghfikett
E972

  
    
    

 
 

.ZL11312111zlyy

Michigan State
nxversity

This is to certify that the
thesis entitled
"CHAUCERIAN REALISM":

A STUDY OF MIMESIS IN
THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE

presented by
Carol Lee Shilkett
has been accepted towards fulfillment

of the requirements for

Ph.D. degree in English

 

 

 

 

July 17, 19 72

C!

an:

0-7639

 

 

 

W‘Mfifd 6 4"

ABSTRACT

"CHAUCERIAN REALISM": A STUDY
OF MIMESIS IN THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE

By

Carol Lee Shilkett

For generations scholars and critics, classroom teachers and casual
readers of Chaucer have talked about "Chaucer's realism," presumably
denoting thereby certain qualities of vividness and liveliness which
seem to the reader to have been drawn from observation of real life.
These qualities are known to contrast with those of other medieval works
such as the French courtly poets by whom Chaucer's art was nurtured,
93134.2 9.11.51 3.92. 9.2.9.92 m. 29.92;. and large portions of 21.0.2.1 Elma-
The differences are evident in narrative management, description, and
characterization, but the constituent parts have never been systematically
analyzed and evaluated with a view to understanding exactly what makes
readers describe Chaucer as a "realist." Indeed, writings such as those
of Curtius, Schlauch, and others, have made clear that many qualities
formerly described as realistic are not so at all, but are rather
fornulaic or conventional. The result of these scholarly references,
frequently casual and imprecise, is a confusion of denials and affirma-
tions, rarely documented, about Chaucer's realisn. The aim of this
study is to determine with some precision what this realism is, what its
lisits are, how it is artistically achieved, and how it is revelant to
Chaucer's central artistic vision.

Seeking to define Chaucerian realism inductively, through a close

Carol Lee Shilkett
reading of the text, the study examines Chaucer's techniques in the
General Prologue, end-links, and confessional monologues-those parts
of the Cantggbpgz gals; which are ostensibly "real." The realism of
the "frame" portion of the Canterbgrz 2;;25 is seen to consist of several
major elements: vivid concrete descriptive detail creates characters and
surroundings which seem lifelike and plausible to the reader; conventions
are freely used and habitually varied to present the personalities and
values of the figures depicted; lifelike interaction of the pilgrims
accompanied by natural dialogue, seemingly unstilted and unprogramed by
literary or scholarly precepts, produces an informal you-are-there
atmosphere in which characterization is substantiated and developed;
consistent use of haphazard organization and Juxtaposition adds to the
chronicled-from-life topos; irony and humor, based in the naive narrator
persona, contribute an implicit level of characterization and moral
Judgment which serves to set pilgrims and pilgrimage in the context of
the medieval world-in a world in which all actions are, in a figural
way, part of the divine plan.

Chaucer's work encompasses the changing aesthetic currents of the
Middle Ages. He offers, through the sensations of this earthly life, a
spiritual lesson concerning the individual pilgrimage of every soul to
the Celestial Jerusalem. The eternal verities are vivified by exacting
and artistic choice of particulars and lifelike actions and dialogue.

The fabric of the work is composed of carefully interwoven stylized and
mimetic materials. Chaucer's realism is not of the "common-or-garden"
variety which produces a faithful copy of life around him; his art selects,
combines, and transforms the materials of both life and literature,

convention and individuality.

"CHAUCERIAN REALISM": A STUDY OF MIMESIS
IN THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE

By

Carol Lee Shilkett

A THESIS
Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of

DOCTOR_OF PHILOSOPHY
Department of English

1972

© Copyright by
CAROL LEE SHILKETT
1972

11

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter I: Introduction
Chapter II: The Pilgrims
.Appendix to Chapter II
Chapter III: The Canterbury Pilgrimage
Chapter IV: Self-Revelations
Alison of Bath
The Pardoner
The Canon's Yeoman
Chapter V: Conclusion

Bibliography

111

18
108
11#
159
160
202
222
237
25h

CHAPTER I: INTRODUCTION

The illusionistic "realism" of a Byzantine mosaic seen in the rosy
glow of alabaster windows or of flickering candlelight is in many
respects similar to the vividness of Chaucer's art. In the Byzantine
churches of Greece or those of Ravenna and Monreale loom the stern
Pantocrator, the mellow Christ-éMan of Sorrows-the lifelike apostles,
surrounded by veritable gardens of flowers, animals, and the star-
studded expanse of heaven. The stern, dignified, and stylized Phnto-
crater, the all-powerful and perfect Creator, admits of no individual-
ization, encompassing all of creation as He does. But the apostles are
portraits, modelled not on men of the artist's choosing, but on tradi-
tion and pattern book. The huge dark eyes and the articulated waviness
Of hair and beard are the same for each figure. But the individual
emerges in a variety of hair styles, beards, wrinkles, and facial ex-
pressions. The world in the dome seems almost to move and shimmer in
the dim light, the incoherence of its angular bits of stone and glass
come to life. The common animals of the fields-birds, lambs, rabbits--
are depicted with photographic care and placed against ornamental back-
grounds. The foliage boasts lifelike leaves arranged on geometric
branches. From afar the dual impact of human and spiritual life is
complete. Iithin and sometimes transcending the framework of the type
breathes the individual.

Ihile the comparison with Byzantium may seem bizarre, Chaucer's

1

2
literary world likewise manages to balance individual and type, ideal
and earthly. He does not, like Dante or the visual artist, attempt to
picture the experience of Godhead, but is content to show the way to
that experience. Although Chaucer celebrates life, both the human and
the spiritual, it is in the earthier portions of that life that so many
of Chaucer's claims to greatness have been rooted. His portrayal of
the pilgrimage with its less savory characters-Miller, Reeve, Pardoner,
Summoner-has gained him the epithet "Medieval Realist." Yet in many
ways the pilgrims, their tales, and the Canterbury pilgrimage are as
stylized as the Byzantine Apestles' neatly waved hair. The ggpggphng
Eglgg,produce in us an aesthetic Joy in perceiving the inanimate made
"real." The pilgrims call out to us through the ages, even prompting
searches in the musty records of time for their "real" identities to
somehow Justify their magic by explaining it away.

In an attempt to illuminate and understand that magic while neither
explaining it away nor tarnishing its glow, this paper will seek to
examine and define a medieval "realism." For generations scholars and
critics, classroom teachers and casual readers of Chaucer have talked
about "Chaucer's realism," presumably denoting thereby certain qualities
of vividness and liveliness which seem to the reader to have been drawn
from observation of life. These qualities are known to contrast with
those of other medieval works such as the French courtly poets by whom
Chaucer's art was nurtured, 95:9,; 93 m firm M, 29321: and
large portions of m m. The differences are evident in
narrative management, description, and characterization, but the con-
stituent parts have never been systematically analyzed and evaluated

with a view to understanding exactly what makes readers describe

3
Chaucer as a "realist." Indeed writings such as those of Curtius,
Sshlanch, and others, have made clear that many qualities formerly
described as realistic are not so at all, but are rather formulaic or
conventional. The result of these scholarly references, frequently
rather casual, is a confusion of denials and affirmations, rarely
documented, about Chaucer's realism. It is my belief that there is
some significant content in the term "Chaucerian Realism." The aim of
this study is to determine with some precision shat this realism is,
what its limits are, how it is artistically achieved, and how it is
relevant to Chaucer's central artistic vision.

A survey of the scholarship touching upon Chaucer's representation
of reality in the 9mm [Lam will illustrate the surprisingly
small amount of attention the problem has received. By far the major-
ity of this attention is peripheral to other concerns. Critics refer
to Chaucer's "realism" in almost every context, but rarely make the
term explicit. Or we find.zggligg_undistinguished from‘ngtngglill,
often borrowed from art historians' terminology and used as a literary
synonym, as indeed it is not. Aestheticians and some literary genre-
theoreticians have on occasion made penetrating observations on the
nature of reality in the art forms which will be helpful in evaluating
medieval "rallies." Unfortunately it seems to be the literary medieval-
ists who are least discriminating in their use of the term.

George Lyman Kittredge was the first to crusade for Chaucer's
"modernity" and "realism":

hammer?) is the most modern of English poets, and one of the

most popular. This is not a paradox; it is the sober, unrhe-

torical statement of a truism. For he knew life and loved it,
and his specialty was mankind as it was, and is. Besides, his

age was vastly like our own, in everything but costume and 'the
outward habit of encounter.‘ The fourteenth century seems less

1.
remote than the eighteenth; Geoffrey Chaucer is nearer to us
than Alexander Pope.

It was an age of intense activity,-a singularly 'modern'
time. One is tempted to assert that all problems which vex the
world today, either sprang into existence or made themselves
especially troublesome in the sixty years of Chaucer's life.

For there is scarcely a political or social catchword of the

present . . . which does not fit the fourteenth century.
Kittredge goes on to enumerate these social and political problems,
concluding that Chaucer's modernity and popularity grow from his
careful depiction of the fourteenth--and apparently the nineteenth--
centuries. Although he later admits that realism is only a portion of
life and of poetry, "Chaucer the realist stands unmasked before us"
(p. 105) from the first page of modern Chaucer criticism onwards.

Similarly Stuart Robertson in his "Elements of Realism in the

2 sees Chaucer's battles and tournaments as drawn from

'Knight's Tale'"
life because they are similar to descriptions in Froissart's‘ghrgpigjg,
The conventionality of those courtly elements is completely overlooked.

The illusion of Chaucer as chronicler of fourteenth society was continued

\

by John Livingstone Lewes in.§gg;1:gz,§hgp§gz.3

The non-courtly tales came to be interpreted as vehicles of
"bourgeois realism," primarily under the influence of Joseph B6dier.“
But the conventional elements of the fabliau and satire have since been
exposed by Per Nykrog in Lu W5 and by Lionel J. Friedman in
"'Jean de Heung,' Antifeminism, and 'Bourgeois Realism.”6 Both have
shown "bourgeois realism" to be burlesque and satire belonging not to
the bourgeoisie but to the courtly class. Much of the reality of these
”bourgeois" tales is actually the age-old manipulation of plot and
character typical of the stock figures of the classical comedy of
Terence, classical satire, and the M my 5153.

"Chaucerian realism" was neither illuminated nor explained away by

5

these discoveries. The term continues to be used to characterize
Chaucer's vivid charm by critics who are careful to leave it impression-
istically undefined. Baldeen Braddy writes, "Chaucer's greatest art
was realistic . . . This transcendent realism at times utilized secondary
elements of the obscene when true-to-life portraiture, or verisimilitude,
demanded."7 His comments would seem to identify, or at least causally
link, realism with the obscene. Others, like Michael West in "Dramatic
Time, Setting, and Motivation in Chaucer,"8 recognize only the proble-
matic but still undefined "psychological realism" of the ggpggpppzyugglgg.
Bdmund.Reiss in "The Symbolic Surface of the ggnpgpppry;gglg§: The Monk's
Pertrait"9 speaks of realistic detail as symbolic, but fails to come to
grips with the conventional aspects of symbolism.

These critics who are either careful to qualify the subject or who
are highly visible in their reluctance to define it, are typified by
3. S. Bussey:

Realism is a large subject, and for us who set high store by

realism (or at least verisimilitude) in literature a potentiallfi

dangerous one when we read the literature of the distant past.
Such is the dilemma of the Chaucerian unwilling to commit himself on
this "large subject"; he quivers on the edge of the abyss, hedging on
any term which might easily push him over the edge.

Of those scholars who have plunged into the dangerous morass,
D. W. Robertson and Erich Auerbach may be said to represent opposite
poles. Robertson's;Ezegage‘pgChaucer11 constitutes the strongest
argument against admitting any kind of realism in medieval literature.
His case for exegetical interpretation is based entthe medieval tendency
to view the world in terms of macro- and microcosm, a system of pro-

POrtionate hierarchies, each of which mirrors in its own imperfect way

6
the Divine order. The love of God for His wayward children and man's
duty to return that love become the all-embracing sentenge of medieval
literature, according to Robertson. While capitas can be made the
doctrinal message of all literature, the exegetical process which does
so tends to plane away the individual differences of the literal
levels of all poetry, insisting that for all practical purposes the
Wife of Bath and January are one and the same, exemplars in a sermon
against the seven deadly sins.

Such an interpretation cannot be made to square with the original
patristic bases of exegesis as outlined by augustine in Qn,§h£1g§igp,
Dectgige (III, v. 9). Man must understand both the literal and the
figural in their places. All texts should be read three ways: (I)
for grammatical and syntactical construction; (2) for surface meaning;
(3) for doctrinal content. The man who mistakes the sign (surface
meaning) for the thing (doctrinal content) falls into as deep an error'
as he who mistakes the thing for the sign. Each must be studied in its
place. Robertson falls into the trap; seeking the figural in the
literal, he comes to disregard the literal level as unimportant or even
nonexistent.

The mimetic surface of literature and art falls as a casualty before
Robertson's approach. He does not disprove its existence; he refuses
even to consider it. This may be seen in numerous unsupported remarks
such as the following: " peas do Meun's use of earthy words] has nothing
to do with 'realism.‘ The fabliaux are not actually 'realistic'" (206);
"[Chaucer's] interest was not in the 'surface reality' but in the reality
of the idea" (ZAB). Robertson assumes that because an interest in

ideas did exist, there was no other concern in the minds of medieval

7

poets. On occasion he will admit descriptive detail, but denies it any
autonomous existence:

But to speak of instances of this kind [Jean de Mann's

descriptions of the friars] as 'realistic' is not quite

accurate, since no realistic detail is included for its

own make. It is used rather to make the principles involved

more immediate and striking. Like the 'realism' of Gothic

art, it is subsumed within a framework of abstract ideas,

which form, as it were, the medium of the poem. (20h)
Realism for Robertson must be realism "for its own sake," a modern
M m Egg; view which, following his own dicta against applying
the Romantic sensibility in our interpretations of things medieval,
Robertson avoids completely. The realism which he is at such pains to
avoid, is, after all, not medieval and not technically realism. It is
more akin to a naturalistic W ehich utilizes realism as a
technique to present a world independent and unloved of a higher power.
Such a world is of course not medieval. Robertson moves far to the
other extreme, regarding "abstract ideas" as the "medium of the poem,"
a not-too-sound critical approach which is amplified by his concern to
avoid finding modern realism in medieval art. That perfectly valid
concern, when coupled with his doctrinal-level exegesis, has prevented
his acknowledging the possibility of a medieval realism which exists
neither for its own sake nor for the sake of doctrine, but to "make the
principles involved more immediate and striking" for the artistic work
as a.whole. It is the work of art which subsumes both the realistic
detail and abstract ideas, not the other way around, as Robertson argues.

Erich Auerbach's collection of essqs in M12 approaches the
subject from a different and more rewarding, if also more complicated,

point of view. His original premises are taken from Plato's discussion

in Book Ton of the 3:2!21120 Be accepts imitation as a basis for the

8
interpretation of reality through literary representation, and thus
from the beginning embraces a much larger subject than does Robertson,
who limits himself rather artificially to doctrinal exegesis. Auerbach
avoids the problem of modern realism, not, like Robertson, by refusing
to see any realism in medieval works, but by eliminating today's
naturalistic realism from consideration: "The view of reality expressed
in the Christian works of late antiquity and the Middle Ages differs
completely from that of modern realism" (555). Auerbach does not move
to the extreme of considering only this-worldly reality, as Robertson
does other-worldly doctrine, however. He rather identifies the medieval
conception of reality asifignggl.

In this conception, an occurrence on earth signifies not only

itself but at the same time another, which it predicts or

confirms, without prejudice to the power of its concrete reality
here and.now. The connection between occurrences is not regarded

as primarily a chronological or causal development but as a

oneness within the divine plan, of which all occurrences are

parts and reflections. (555)

The crucial difference between Auerbach and Robertson in dealing with
figuration is reflected in Auerbach's phrase, ". . . without prejudice
to the power of its concrete reality here and new." Without the
literal level the figural cannot exist.

Auerbach attempts in his essays to illustrate the imitation of
everyday practical reality in literature of all kinds and times,
exploding, as he does so, the "doctrine of the ancients" which stipulates
that realistic subject matter be treated only in the "low style."

. . . both during the Middle Ages and on through the

Renaissance, a serious realism had existed. It had been

possible in literature as well as in the visual arts to

represent the most everyday phenomena of reality in a

serious and significant context. The doctrine of the levels

of style had no absolute validity. (SSh-SSS)

Hence he undertskes an inductive search for ways in which "realistic

9
subjects were treated seriously, problematically, or tragically."
Auerbach stops short of a history of realism and draws no theoretical
conclusions. His textual commentary speaks for itself and indeed shows
the existence of a serious realism in medieval literature. Auerbach
writes nothing of Chaucer.

Charles Muscatine has drawn on both Anerbach and early works of
Robertson for inspiration in his examination of Chaucer's debt to the
French in W m m m 2351.11.23.13 His treatment of
realism is incidental to his exploration of Chaucer's use of stylistic
conventions drawn from French literature, particularly from Jean de
Meun, the romancers, and.‘333;1§tg§. He laudably attempts to balance
traditional scholarly concern for Chaucer's "content" by a treatment of
form and style, thus determining "Chaucer's 'meaning' as a complex
whole," but frequently falls into vague impressioniem and imprecise
critical terminology. He justly sees realism as a technique, not an end
in itself as viewed by Robertson; but he muddies his picture by continual-
ly identifying realism and naturalism without ever defining either.
Furthermore, he tends, as the book progresses, to use the term naturalism
not in its technical sense, but as a synonym for realism.

This confusion is illustrated by the following passages. At the
end of the book Huscatine approaches a definition which is close to a
modern explanation of realism:

. . . naturalism involves a technical discipline which must

be learned in the same way that the technique of composing

ballades and invocations must be learned. The recording

eye and ear are essential to the practice of the naturalistic

style, but they are by no means all. The artist never,

except for very special purposes, attempts merely to record

every grunt and irrelevance of phenomenal experience. What

he sees and hears, the selections and combinations he makes,

are partly the result of training, much of it literary train-
ing. Tradition guides observation. (198)

10
This clear and perceptive observation is valid enough, although to
my strict definition it constitutes realism, not naturalism. Unfortu-
nately Muscatine does not adhere to this definition of realismlnatural-
ism as a "technical discipline." He speaks in other places of Chaucer's
"boldest naturalization of um; . . . in the adoption of the
exemplary 'sample' monologue" (210), a statement which is completely
meaningless. Or, " . . . for the special versions of realism represented
by the views of the Wife of Bath, the Pardoner, and the Canon's Yeoman
he uses the special naturalism of their dramatic monologues" (172). Such
loose use of terminology undermines the integrity of his critiques of
Chaucer's work.

Huscatine also sets up an opposition between the "conventional"
and "realistic" works, finding a group of mixed poems in between. The
distinction is artificial, as he seems to recognise on two occasions
when he hints at a conventional realism, but throughout the book he
treats the two as opposites, identifying courtly elements as convention-
al, bourgeois as realistic. The inaccuracies of these classifications
and the leoseness of critical terminology to which they lead will
become evident in the course of this study.

Margaret Schlauch in her perspicacious "Realism and Convention in
Medieval Literature"1u surveys in a cautionary tone some of the general
assumptions erroneously made about medieval realism. Her most valuable
observations concern the major role of convention in literature,
particularly in fabliaux and satire. She cautions us against identify-
ing the depiction of zgglig with genuine realism, but declines to
venture further to distinguish a realistic mode from more description

based on realistic detail. Schlauch would like to see a "neutral"

11
term such as "anti-romance" adopted to characterize this pggligp
oriented literature, which she sees as midway between romance and
realism.

Like Muscatine she accepts conventional and realistic works as
somehow opposite, although she recognizes the existence of realistic
setting and unrealistic action in the same work. She accepts his
loose use of realism and naturalism as somehow related to the zggligr
realism problem, but makes no attempt to make the relationship clear.
The short article is intended primarily as a survey which formulates
rather than solves the problem:

Genuine realism as understood in modern times-classically

exemplified, shall we say, in the works of writers like

Balzac and Tolstoi-was less widely represented in medieval

literature than many critics have hitherto assumed; certainly

less widely than the usual handbooks of medieval literature
would suggest to our students. The examples I have cited

. . . indicate the need for more precise formulation of the

literary terms so frequently used. (12)

It is the aim of this study to achieve that more precise formup
lation insofar as it applies to the mature work of Chaucer. Before
proceeding to an examination of the gantggpnzz;gglgg, however, I shall
attempt to outline, not a definition of Chaucerian realism-that will
hopefully be an inductive result of this study-but some theoretical
reflections on the representation of reality in the Middle Ages which
will serve as guidelines in the examination of the gantgpppzy_zglgg.

Exploration of even a small portion of the criticism touching
on Chancerian realism turns up numerous assumptions of which we are
wise to disburden ourselves. The dangers of looking for a preconceived,
modern realism are obvious, but have nonetheless been stumbling blocks
to many scholars. The definition of modern realism has itself proved

a problem, perhaps because we find ourselves stretching the term to

12

describe a modern,!gl§ggg§hggggg, J. P. Stern describes this state of
affairs perceptively in his "Reflections on Realism":15

Realism is thus not a single style and has no specific

vocabulary of its own, except in contrast to styles and

vocabularies employed by other modes of writing in any

given age. It is not a‘ggngg, nor a Welt c a , but

rather a disposition of mind and pen, something like a

humour-in brief, a god; 2; m. As a mode it makes its

appearance in all kinds of cultural situations yet is

identical with none. (h)
It is the shifting vocabulary of realism "in contrast to styles and
vocabularies employed by other modes of writing in any given age" which
causes many of our initial difficulties, including the problems of
terminology pointed out above. In this paper the word "realism" will
refer to an artistic technique which through concrete or vivid detail
describes a lifelike character, an environment, or action. The term
"naturalistic," used so loosely by Muscatine and others, will be used
only in its strict philosophical sense to describe an autonomous world
which exists, independent of divine guidance, according to the immutable
laws of nature. Naturalism as we see it today utilizes realistic
techniques, but the techniques can be independent of the philosophy.
This is not to say that medieval realism does not have its own related
philosophy; I hope to show that it does, and that it encompasses con-
siderably more than Robertson's typological theorizing allows for. But
to somewhat improve on the generally vague use of the term, we must first
limit "realism" to a technique, a mode of writing. Naturalism is a
Philosophical attitude which often employs realistic techniques. The
broader implications-the representation of reality in literature-are
perhaps best denoted by Auerbach's term "mimesis." Modern naturalism
rem-esents a closed system. Medieval realism contributes to a mimetic

art which is part of the open-ended cosmos extending beyond the sensory

13
world to the spiritual universe-Auerbach's figural concept of
reality.

Concomitant to the necessity of avoiding modern conceptions of
realism/naturalism is the need to put aside the modern norm of unity
and the expectations of continuity in style to which it leads us.
While the medieval period is noted for its consistent belief in the
orderliness of creation, we must occasionally remind ourselves that
multiplicity and irregularity hold important places in medieval aesthetic
theory. According to Mrecmkowski, Hugh of St. Victor stresses the
importance of "variegating the aesthetic perception by . . . deviation

from the standard.“6

In the study of realism, we must constantly
remind ourselves that we will not find whole "realistic" works. A
story with realistic environs may not encompass realistic characters or
actions. Totally unreal, magical figures may participate in very real
actions. Thus medieval realism is fragmentary.

Finally, we come to the basic assumptions of this study. With
Plato we assume that art is mimotic. Secondly-and on this point
medieval aesthetics both diverges from Plato and differs from views of
the nineteenth century-dwe assume that at no point does art claim to be
or to create life. That is the province of God the Creator. Man
creates only in imitation. His creation is true or beautiful insofar
as it fulfills the norms of truth, not actuality. The artist must
somehow bridge the gulf between the ordinary and the exceptional by
finding the middle distance at which his work is exceptional enough
to be regarded as creation, but familiar enough to be plausible.

Realism aims at giving plausibility to something which we know is

artistic, imaginative.

1#

Isolated examples of Chaucerian realism may be found throughout
Chaucer's work, in both fabliaux and in such romanticized and idealized
pieces as the Knight's Tale. It pervades other portions of the
m 39,133 to such an extent that it dominates their technique,
leading readers to describe the portrayal df the Wife of Bath or
Merchant, for instance, as "realistic," "drawn from life." Close
examination shows, however, that those characters (life of Bath) and
situations (scenario of the Miller's Tale) which we most frequently
label realistic, often remain quite impossible in the context of every—
day life. The "realism" which we seem to find inheres not so much in
Chaucer's simple description of life around him as in his artistic use
of narrative, descriptive, and characterizational detail to create
pieces strong in mimetic quality, different from both the idealizations
and caricatures found in the respective modes of romance and fabliau.

It is not feasible to treat the whole of the Qantgzhnpzugglg§,in
a study of this length. I have chosen to concentrate on those portions
of the £332; dealing with the pilgrims and their pilgrimage, specifically
the General Prologue, the endrlinks, and the long monologues spoken by
three pilgrims in prologue to their tales. This will provide only a
beginning for dealing with Chaucer's mimetic art; the tales themselves
hold much of the key to medieval realism. But the pilgrims and their
pilgrimage mark the obvious starting point; they are the nominally
"real" parts of the Canterbury pilgrimage, and the incidents along the
road are presented as ostensibly "real" occurrences. A close analysis
of Chaucer's handling of the apparently "real" will provide many clues
to the nature of the reality which each of the pilgrims stages for the

others in his tale.

15

We have seen that critical language is notoriously impressionistic
and its terminology vogue in dealing with literary style and artistic
vision, and especially in relating these aspects of literature to much
used and frequently redefined terms like "realism." The development of
an adequate analytical methodology and a critically acceptable defini-
tion of Chaucerian realism which is not a simplification are primary
concerns of the study. Beginning with close reading of the texts, I
will analyze them stylistically, placing Chaucer's varying modes of
description in the traditions of the genres which they represent.
Conventionalltgpgir-inherited or traditional mannerisms of the genre
being examined, or consciously used artistic clichés-will be identified
within the Chaucerian idiom and compared with similar conventional
material from romance, fabliau, and satire. The ways in which juxta-
posed material of different genres or modes interacts will be examined,
as will the manner in which significant descriptive material is changed
by context and setting. The contributions of dialogue and other
dramatic techniques to mimesis will also be explored.

Every Chaucer exegete, like the Biblical exegetes of the Middle
Ages, finds himself confronted with a disconcerting surfeit of maps,
charts, guidebooks, trails, and roadsigns (often wildly contradictory)
left by his predecessors. His area is no longer newh-it has not been
for centuries-and he will be unable to ignore those who have explored
it before him. My examination of Chaucer's mimetic techniques is
deeply-no doubt sometimes unconsciously-indebted to generations of
scholars, and many of my pages are inescapably old and familiar ground.
It is often impossible to avoid dealing at some length with what has

long since become the Obvious. The aim of this study is not to

16
develop new interpretations of the "meaning" or "sens" or thematic
content of the QQEtgppppz,Tglg§, but to shed new light on Chaucer's
mimetic processes in the 2§;_g. Frequently, nevertheless, the examina-
tionyof narrative and characterizational techniques results in interpre-
tations which, if not revolutionary, at least modify accepted meanings.
I believe that my analysis of the Canterbury pilgrims and pilgrimage
does, in this manner, clarify certain perennial problems concerning
characterization, conventionality, and "dramatic" aspects of the work.
Moreover, through these sometimes extended examinations, that elusive
term "Chaucerian realism" begins to assume specific, and sometimes»
surprising, meanings.

In Chapter Two the study will examine the General Prologue to the
W M in an attempt to isolate the artistic techniques which
produce the spectrum of personages ranging from entirely non-mimetic
and idealized to highly individualized figures. Chapter Three will
treat the pilgrimage proper, dealing with the many short end-links
which, though fragmented, relate a surprisingly well-crafted account
of the trip to Canterbury. An examination of the three long confession-
al monologues of the life of Bath, the Pardoner, and the Canon's'Yeoman
(the latter forming the first part of his tale), will be undertaken in
Chapter Four in an effort to discover the composition of the "psycho-
logical realism" which they are purported to contain. Lastly, Chapter
Five will survey the uses and limitations of Chaucer's techniques and
attempt to set this "Chaucerian realism" in the context of the W
‘gglgg_as a whole and, more broadly, of medieval literature and aesthe?
tics, aiming to arrive at an acceptable descriptive definition of

‘medieval.realism.

17

NOTES TO CHAPTER I

1900110 Ion-an Kittredse. Shame: and El: 2.9.2311. (Cambridzu 1915).
2.

2Stuart Robertson, "Elements of Realism in the 'Knight's Tale,m
items; 9.: ms. at 22235219. MP1: . It (1915). 226-255-

3John Livingstone Lewes, M We (Oxford: 1932).
“Joseph Bedier, _L_e_g M, (Paris: 1925), Chapter 13.
51’» Nykros. .15.! mg. (Copenhagen: 1957).

6Lionel J. Friedman, "'Jean de Meung,‘ Antifeminism, and 'Bourgeois
R“Ritalin.” mm. 59 (1959). 13-23.

7Haldeen Braddy, "Chaucer-“Realism or Obscenity?" m
W192 (1969). 121-138.

8Michael Vest, "Dramatic Time, Setting, and Motivation in Chaucer,"
Chance; 3mg, 2 (1968), 172-187-

9Edmund Reiss, "The Symbolic Surface of the W gm: The
Monk's Portrait," m 3.91191. 2 (1968), ash-272 and 3(1969), 12-28.

105. 3. Hussey, m: A; W, (London: 1971), 207.

"n. v. Robertson. .4 21:91:53. is mm: m m mam;
W, (Princeton: 1982).

”run Auerbnch. am: The W .91 mm is
m w, trans. willard R. Trask, (Princeton: 1953).

”Charles Museums. slum m the limit W: i m in.
Style 223 m, (Berkeley: 1960).

1“Margaret Schlauch, "Realism and Convention in Medieval Literature,"

WW. II (1961+): 3-12-
15J. p. Stern "Reflections on Realism," 1232921 21 W m
16

Praemyslaw Mroczkowski, "Medieval Art and Aesthetics in the
£22m luau." W. 33 (1958). 220.

are

Y—c—I—v-

CHAPTER II: THE PILGRIMS

Gothic art, explains Max Dvorik, is based on a concept of union,
not antithesis, and encloses a section of the infinite universe which
is transformed into the artistic medium.

The task of representation—- , not ilggg,-is to
substitute the‘igpggzggtpl,of sense perception by the
pa:;gg§gn,of the divine ideas. Not a uniform degree of nature
observation is the aim, but rather a maximum of inner dis-
cipline in an abstract structure. Gothic figure art is
organized as a hierarchy: 1) the higher the concept that a
figure is meant to embody, the more simplified is its form;

2) only minor or secondary persons are characterized in their
transitoriness, i.e., naturalistically. But even the figures
of the higher order should not lack what is intrinsic to their
physical nature; in the words of St. Thomas, glgpitg§,must be
joined to intggzgtgg. Idealism and naturalism appear here not
as irreconcilable opposites but as an illustration of St.
Thomas's notion of’ggnggggptigr-a valid criterion for the world
of Gothic figures. '

The naturalism of which Dvorak speaks is that of the art historians.

It corresponds to literary "realism" and is no doubt the cause of

the unfortunate use by literary critics of the word "naturalism" in
describing realistic techniques. Dvorak makes several points, based

on the writings of St. Thomas Aquinas, which should remain uppermost in
mind as we examine Chaucer's poetry. Art aims to move from inpgnggtnl
to‘pngggtpl,through‘g;lilitpggr-the process of mimesis. The closer

a figure approaches the perfect, the more simplified, and less indivi-
dualized, its form will be, a state admirably illustrated by Dante's
gglnggig; the souls in hell are considerably more individualized than
those glowing lights of heaven who care not for individuality but for

18

Q.

7"

19
divine unity. The ideal figures must not, however, lack "what is
intrinsic to their physical nature," a need which is determined in
Chaucer by considerations of mode or genre and purpose. Lastly,
Dvor‘k cautions us once more against thinking of the ideal and
naturalistic/realistic as opposites, for in doing so we set up arti-
ficial distinctions contrary to the figural mode of thought so prevalent
in the Middle Ages.

The focus of this chapter, the General Prologue to the gagtggbggy
mg, will illustrate Dvoréh'e artistic pronouncement. The portrait
gallery at the Tabard Inn contains a variety of classes and varying
levels of W and m. Those figures embodying higher
concepts—-the Parson and Plowman, for example-are the least differenti-
ated and individualized; they take their being from the concept itself
and retain individual characteristics only insofar as they are ”intrinsic
to their physical nature[s]." The various representatives of this
transitory world are indeed "characterized in their transitoriness,

i.e. naturalistically." But even within this broad category of tran-
sitory figures, we find Chaucer's amazing breadth. All the portraits

are characterized by detail-distinct, individual, and vivid. Much of

the detail which vivifies the portraits is described by Margaret Schlauch's
"m," discussed in Chapter I. We shall see that the depiction of
£3;13§,is Just one method of the realistic technique, although it has

been the most striking ingredient remarked on thus far by the examiners

of "Chaucerian realism." thy of the portraits consist of conventions

of various genresn-romance, fabliau, satire. The use of convention is,
perhaps surprisingly, another major method by which Chaucer establishes

expectations and plausibility in both courtly and non-courtly contexts.

20
The portraits embrace the descriptive, the evaluative, the functional.
Some consist of, or are dominated by, descriptive detail. we know, for
instance, exactly the appearance and social talents of the Squire, but
know little of the actual inner man. The Parson and Plowman, on the
other hand, are described primarily in terms of their moral worth, and
we have clear ideas as to their opinions on many subjects as a result.
Others, notably the Physician and Man of Law, are described in terms of
their occupations or functions in society. The majority of the pil-
grins are combinations of various types of details, however, and none
of the types is exclusively realistic. We also find what might be
called a "plausibility tapes" (to be discussed in the following chapter),
in which the poet expresses his concern for telling it "like it is."
Thus the methods employed are numerous; together they constitute the
realistic technique. Throughout the General Prologue Chaucer utilizes
primarily descriptive techniques, and in the following pages we shall
examine each portrait with a view towards the ways in which reality-

the pilgrims-is represented and made explicit.

The frame of the ggntgzhgzy_251gg-the General Prologue and end-
11nks-is to the body of the gglg; as the decorative borders in the
Pillters are to the medallions of saints and scripture, the subjects of
meditation. In these borders one finds everyday medieval life caught
up in the twists of stylized tendrils and monster-spawning branches.

In one we see the scribe and his dog caught in a hopeless tangle; in
another, scenes from the hunt or rustic occupations. There are fan-
tastic monsters and illustrations of well-known stories, such as the

EM 3:, 3m. Idesl figures dwell in the central position of the

21
medallion and are but little individualised. The marginal figures are
depicted with great attention to detail, however stylised that detail
might be.

Such is the portrait gallery of the General Prologue. The pilgrims
range from the Iife of Bath and the Pardoner to the uniquely perfect
Parson, and Chaucer sketches most in detail. He seeks, after all, to
make his subjects plausible. The frame portion of the General Prologue
is concerned with the establishment of the dramatic reality of the

pilgrims and of the pilgrimage. A jovial travelers' 22.11313; is
established among the pilgrims, and the narrator conveys that spirit to
the reader through the happy spring opening. The‘ligg=gn:gg§ng is
realised through dramatic presentation, the use of selected realistic
detail, and careful manipulation and variation of literary convention.
The conventional opening is nonetheless real for its conventional-
ity. Every convention, in order to exist, must have referents in
reality. The use of convention establishes a pseudo-reality by evoke
ing set responses and expectations in the reader. Its function is
figurative. The convention is antithetical to realism only insofar as
it may utilize topoi, or artistic clich‘s, instead of detailed descrip-
tions of the real world. Many conventions do rely on detailed descrip-
tions, howover, and since at least one aim of convention is the same as
that of realism-establishing plausibility through the familiar-only
an artificial analysis places convention and realism in opposition.
Convention is a method used by both "realism" and "idealism"; it can
be effective or catastrophic artistically depending on whether the
poet wishes to accept thewconvention as he finds it in other literature,

creating a stale "art" dependent entirely upon older writings, or to

(1

22

incorporate it fully into his work with an originality which transforms
it to his own ends. This is Chaucer's utilization of the conventional
spring opening. Beautiful in its own right, it transforms the gggpg
gaggnpg,which it traditionally describes into the unexpected locale of
pilgrimage. The Canterbpgz gala; setting acquires an immediacy and
beauty which are borrowed from another world of love. And the shift in
mode prepares the reader all the more for something creative and original
on the part of Chaucer the poet.

From the evocation of spring Chaucer moves to exposition of his
story and its participants, and he speaks first of the pilgrims. He

proposes

To tells yew al the condicioun

0f sch of hen, so as it semed me,

And whiche they weren, and of what degree,

And ask in what array that they were inns. (38-h1)2
Chaucer steps early into the bland innocence of his narrator's persona,
outlining his purpose as though physical descriptions tell all. The
vignettes which follow are indeed primarily based on the appearance of
the pilgrim. Over half of the portraits consist overwhelmingly of such
details. The remaining sketches are dominated by details concerning the
"condicioun . . . which they weren," or the occupational function of the
pilgrim in society. Chaucer is less concerned with "degree" (though
this is never wholly separable from function in medieval society)
than any of’his other criteria, emphasizing it for only two of the
personages.

The."verray, parfit gentil knyght" is portrayed from a shifting
point of view which contrasts concern for biographic detail with

romantic conventionalism. His character is indicated by the convention-

'al phrases: ". . . he loved chivalrie, / Trouthe and honour, fredom and

23
curteisie" (tS-hS); ". . . evere honoured for his worthiness" (50);
"He nevere yet no vileynye ne sayde / In al his lyf unto no manner
wight" (70-71). These are the words of romancers going back to Marie
de France, Chr‘tien de Troyes, and even the £935 91 BM. The
qualities of the perfect knight were well known and always included a
love of chivalry, "gentillesse," honor, and largess. The knight of
romance proves his worth in battle against the numerous felon Red
Knights in magic forests of the Other World. ‘Yet, as with all perfect
types, the qualities distinguishing him are abstract and do little to
individualize the figure. And Chaucer's Knight is by no means just a
romantic type.

The "parfit, gentil knyght" has proved his worth in the actual
world known to Chaucer's readers. The battles of Alisaundre, Algenir,
Lyeys, Satalye, Tramyssene, and campaigns in Pruce, Lettow, and Race
all lend a historical air to the biography and establish the warrior's
honorable participation in the few battles in which the Christian
effort was able to vanquish the pagans, if only temporarily.3
Though it would.have been physically possible, it is extremely unlikely
that any knight would have fought in all the battles mentioned. The
campaigns and decorations of this professional soldier are no doubt
exaggerated to enhance his abilities and worthiness. This in turn
increases the idealized elements of the portrait at the expense of
realism. Detail which is in itself realistic contributes to a con-
trasting effect.

Chaucer further shifts his focus when he describes the "bismotered"
clothing and generally sedate attire of this middle-aged knight. The

heroes of romance are young and dressed like the Squire-"Embrouded

2h

. . . as it were a meede." John Manly estimates that the Knight must

be sixty or sixty-five years old,“

hardly fit to grace a romance!

'hile realistic descriptive detail is not dominant in the Knight's
portrait, Chaucer has provided sufficient historical ties and non-
romance details to keep this character from ideal conventionalized
knighthood. The resultant figure is neither realistic nor typed.
Enough description of his appearance is given to create a visual
picture, but the Knight has no personality. He is described in terms
of what he has done and of abstracts in which he believes: chivalry,
truth, honor, generosity. The Knight is more an ideal than an indivi-
dual personage. Enough detail is given to make him human, to make his
existence possible, to verify his knighthood. But he is not an indivi-
dual who possesses faults of even opinions. Abstraction disallows
individuality and opinion in this portrait. Later in the course of the
pilgrimage the Knight develops more personality as he interacts with
Pilgrims more human than himself. But in the General Prologue he is an
idealized figure, devoid of individuality, despite the fact that
Chaucer has carefully anchored his exploits in the real world. He
exists neither on the Canterbury Road nor in the magic stretches of
Broceliande, but somewhere in between, in a handbook ofchivalry.

The Squire and Yeoman are presented as attributes of the Knight,
and each exemplifies an aspect of chivalry not accounted for in the
Knight's portrait. The Squire is the standard lover of many medieval
romances, "A lovyere and a lusty bachelor" (80).- He has seen service
in,Flanders, Artois, and Picardy, but his motive, "to stonden in his
lady grace" (88), is different from his father's. Stressed throughout

is the "lusty bachelor" motif, and all specific description is drawn

25
from romance similes:
Lokkes crulle as they were leyd in presse. (81)

Embrouded was he, as it were a need
Al ful of fresshe floures,'mhyte and reeds. (89-90)

So hoote he lovede that by nyghtertale
He sleep namoore than death a nyghtyngale. (97-98)

The many skills attributed to this young lover are those expected of
the young nobleman: singing, playing the flute, riding, jousting,
dancing, drawing, writing, and even composing songs. Some exaggeration
may be involved here; this young man has fought in Flanders, Artois, and
Picardy and is only twenty years old, although even that is possible.
Uhlike his father he dresses in the height of style: "Short was his
gowns, with eleven long and wyde" (93); the Parson later pronounces a
general indictment of such clothes, but on the Squire, the short gown
is merely typical.

The mention of the cavalry expeditions is the only detail which
places the Squire in actual life, and this is overshadowed by the
abundant description borrowed from courtly romance. The Squire is
presented as a romance figure transplanted, or, at the very least, as
an amusing case of life trying to imitate art. This slightly comic
effect is in fact the closest we come to realism in the portrait. The
Squire is the perfect exemplar of those aspects of chivalry which come
more from books than from reality. Like the Knight, he is a pastiche
of romance conventions, butLhe lacks the variation on those conventions
which places the Knight in a half-way-real world. In terms of realistic
description, the many vivid descriptive details-five times as many
as in the Knight's portrait-do nothing to create a personage; they

merely establish and reinforce the convention. This young lover lives

26
in a world of song and flowers-very much apart from the world of his
fellow pilgrims-nand is a vivid figure there, but his portrait indi-
cates no depth of character, indeed no character at all, to grant him
a place among the living pilgrims.

The'Yeoman, second attribute of the Knight, reflects a more
business-like side of the soldier's profession, in opposition to the
Squire who embodies the literary aura of romance. Though he appears
only in the General Prologue and there but briefly, there is no dearth
of descriptive detail. In seventeen lines we learn of his dress,
physiognomy, skills in woodcraft, hunting, and warfare, and his
relationship to the Knight. As in the Squire's portrait, Chaucer
concentrates on the visual:

And he was clad in cote and hood of grene.

A sheaf of pecok arwes, bright and keno,

Under his belt he bar ful thriftily, . . .

And in his hand he bear a myghty bows.

A not heed hadde he, with a broun visage. . . .

Upon his arm he_baar a gay bracer,

And by his syde a swerd and a bokeler,

And on that oother syde a gay daggers

Harneised wel and sharp as point of spare;

A Cristopher on his brest of silver sheene.

An horn he bar, the bawdryk was of grene. (103-105; 108-109:

111-116)
This pile-up of vivid detail constitutes the‘33313g which Margaret
Schlauch warns us not to mistake for realism.5 While it produces a
vivid visual picture, as indeed the conventions of the Squire's
portrait do also, it constitutes merely an external realism. The
vividness of the portrait does not of itself produce personation.
The'feoman and the Squire do not exist in any mimetic sense beyond the
visual has. If anything, the abundant descriptive detail is an
idealizing factor. The Yeoman is shown to possess all these external

attributes carried by sculpted saints on the facades of Gothic

2?
cathedrals, the'Ieoman and Squire are not interesting in themselves
except insofar as they add interest to the Knight, who is all the
more proper and ideal for having them at his side.

All three of the opening portraits occupy the non-mimetic end of
a spectrum which stretches from W to m, to borrow
Dvoh‘k's words (see page 18 above), from mimetic to non-mimetic por-
trayal. iRealistic figures are detailed in their transitoriness,
idealized ones in the simplicity of abstractions. The Knight is thus
pictured in terms of truth, honor, "curteisie," the Squire as the ideal
lover, the‘Ieoman as the perfect, accomplished woodsman. Non—essentials,
especially those tending towards the transitory, are omitted. Details
are supplied only to establish the ideals-catalogues of battles for
the Knight, social talents for the Squire, abilities to maintain and
use military and hunting gear for the‘Ieoman. The role in society of
each figure is deemed especially important, and consequently his
temporal thoughts, concerns, and faults-his personality-are ignored
for more ideal characteristics.

The Prioress is the first pilgrim who shows promise of taking on
personality and a life of her own. It is one disappointment of the
unfinished.glntggppgz,gg;gg,that she is not developed further as are
some of the other pilgrims. In her portrait Chaucer plays a delight-
ful game, weaving ambiguously among the reader's set expectations of the
nun and the "symple and coy" romance heroine. The portrait consists of
a studiedly haphasard misapplicatiom of conventional detail which
produces a gently satiric picture, interesting for its variation and
refusal to be typical of any of the conventions from which it borrows.

The misapplication of conventions begins with the first lines of

28
the portrait:

Thar was also a House, a Prioresse,

That of hir smylyng was ful symple and coy;
Hire gretteste ooth was but by Seinte Loy;
And she was cleped madame Eglentyne. (118-121)

Lewes has studied the words "symple" and "coy” and cites their use in
the descriptions of romance heroines in Watriquet de Couvin, Deschasps,
Froissart, anhaut, and Gower.6 The phrase is well-established in its
romantic context. Similarly the choice of Eglentyne (Sweet-briar) is

charming, but hardly felicitous in a nun. The fourteenth century

knew of many romantic Eglentynes, however.7

The table manners, related with so much attention to detail, are
likewise conventional. They are those of the desirable woman as

described by La Vielle of the EM fig 11 m, but they date back much

further to Ovid's A}; w.

Et bien se gart qu'ele na mueille

see doiz es broom jusqu'au jointes
Ne qu'el n'ait pas ses lievres ointes
de soupes, d'auz me do char grease,
ne que trop gros nes mete on as bouche;
du bout des dciz le morsel touche
qu'el devra moillier en la sausse,
soit vert ou kameline ou jausse,

st sagement port as bouchiee,

que sour son pin goute n'en chiee

de soups, de savour, de poevre.

Et si sagement redoit boevre

que seur sci n'en espande goute,

car trop rude on per trop gloute

l'en porroit bien aucuns tenir

qui ca 11 verret avenir,

et gart que ja hanap ne touche

tant con el sit morsel en bouche.

Si doit si bien sa bouche terdre
qu'el n'i lest nule grease aherdre,
au mains en la levre deseure,

car quant grease on cele deseure,

on via as parent les mailletes,

qui ne aunt ne bales no notes. (13378-13lt02)7

O O O O O O O O

29

Let her guard against getting her fingers wet up to the joint
in the sauce, against smearing her lips with soup, garlic, or
fat meat, against piling up too large morsels and stuffing her
mouth. When she has to moisten a piece in any sauce, either

e 13:39, e e, or jgpgg, she should hold the morsel

Dahlberg: bit with her fingertips and bring it carefully up
to her mouth, so that no drop of soup, sauce, or pepper falls
on her breast. She must drink so neatly that she doesn't spill
anything on herself, for anyone who happened to see her spill
would think her either very clumsy or very greedy. Again, she
must take care not to touch her drinking cup when she has food
on her mouth. She should wipe her mouth so clean that grease
will not stick to the cup, and should be particularly careful
about her upper lip, for, when there is grease on it, untidy
drops of it will show in her wine. (231)

Chaucer adapts this text to his context by compressing and elevating
the tone through removal of details concerning the sauces, the mention
or garlic, fat meat, pepper, and the spilled wine. The Duenna's woman
1- . after all, the coquette. The Prioress is a gracious woman who
" Denied hire to countrefete cheere / Of court":

it mete wel ytaught was she with alle:

She lost no morsel from hir lippes falls,

Ne wette hir fyngros in hir sauce dope;

lel koude she carie a morsel and wel kope

That no drops no fille upon hire brest.

In curteisie was set ful muchel hir lest.

Hir over-lippe wyped she so clone

That in hir coppe ther was no ferthyng sene

Of grece, when she dronken hadde hir draughte. (127-135)
c3h.aucer modifies his borrowing, but the allusion is clear. The
Zirlnamction of this allusion, and also the more general allusions to
1‘ Omance convention, is figurative. Characterization is accomplished
it‘lbnrough reference to another context known to the reader. Here, the
tllble manners, the physical description, and the ambiguous rosary with
1'1:- legend, "Amor vincit omnia," originally from Virgil, place the
lsfitfiioress in the context of courtly love. She does not fit precisely,

or course, but the reader is forced to evaluate her personal worth in

that light.

30
Similarly, the "charitable and pitous" conscience evidenced

21.11 the

. . . smalls hounded . . . that she fedde
With rosted flessh, or milk and wastel-breod (146-1h7)

and her concern for the trapped mouse is touching in romance but
misplaced in a religious. The allusion is more immediate than those
to romance, however. Even ladies of the court were reproved for
keeping pets, and nuns‘were forbidden to do so. The Knight of La Tour-
10
laundry tells of a woman damned for fawning over her pets, and John
Bromyard likewise preaches against the wealthy who
. . . provide for their dogs more readily than for the poor,
more abundantly and more delicately too; so that, where the
poor are so famished that they would greedily devour bran-bread,
dogs are squeamish at the sight of wafer-bread, and span what
is offered them, trampling it under their feet. They must be
offered the daintiest flesh, the firstling and the choicest
produce of every dish. If, glutted, they refuse it, then, as
though they were infirm, there is a wailing over them on the 11
part of those whose bowels yearn with pity for the afflicted.
In the same cold light we must view the rosary-“nuns were forbidden
3 Ovelry many, many times in the fourteenth century. And the Prioress
83:: ould not be on a pilgrimage at all; bishops repeatedly forbad the
1‘ Oligious journey, even in fulfillment of a vow.‘2 Madam Eglentyne's
pnceated wimple, fashionable broad forehead, grey eyes, and soft red
“Oath likewise indicate a woman of the romances and of the world. The
crowning touch of secularpcloistered ambiguity is the finely-wrought
IPoo-try, its motto as ambiguously suited to the beads as is the pleated
mph to Madam Eglentyne.
The details of the sketch are not of great vividness. They are
°°ncrete but conventional. The Prioress comes alive not through the

M3 3.9. 15 £81! or medieval. romance figures, but through the shifting

tQhe which describes a nun who eats like a fine lady, who pities small

31
dogs and has convinced the simple-minded narrator that this is charity,
arid who believes that love conquers all. Because she is not a romance
figure, the details are packed with ulterior meanings. When we read
of the Squire or Yeoman in terms of the convention “1011 each repre-
sents, we find nothing illuminating in the expected, even though it is
vividly handled. 'hen we read of a nun in terms of romance we find
tolling comments on the personality of that nun. Her character gains a
depth which is exposed, not through any psychological realism or
analysis of thoughtsnor words, but through juxtaposition of unexpected
conventions, each of which carries its own connotations. Without once
Venturing into the Prioress' mind, Chaucer has exposed the dominating
-tlhos of her personality, and he has done it through that old "new"
0 t realin, convention. The substance and literary technique of the
d-scription-the catalogue-«re both conventional. The figure produced
by this studied misapplication of convention and seemingly haphazard
I‘Cbmembrance of a past acquaintance, is singularly mimetic.
The Monk is portrayed as a compilation of conventional criticisms

° 1' the medieval monk. Chaucer has selected three of the most commonly
criticised foibles: the Monk is outside his cloister, he hunts, and he
dresses extravagantly, In the Prioress' portrait Chaucer has utilized
‘3 Onvention for a uniquely vivid and by mismatching his conventions and
the subject described. In the Monk's portrait no such mi-atching
o<.'=~curs, but a similar variation on the effect of the convention is
.chieved by relating the Monk's scorn for the monastic rule at least
111 part in his own words through indirect quotation. The effect is
.1Iilar to that achieved in the confessional monologues of the life of

Aim and Pardoner, where the damning material is put in the subjects'

32

months. The net result is that the damning, conventional, satiric
material cannot be read in the same light as medieval satire in which
judgment is offered by an uncharacterized personage usually identical
with the author. The case is viewed from an external vantage point.
The object is usually caricatured, but lacks "character" or "personal-
ity," and satire as a whole consists of only impartial, if sometimes
humorous,_denumciation of the object in question. In the Monk's
portrait the point of view of the presentation is shifted, and the shift
brings with it a novel situation which requires the reader to view the
character as somehow different from the typical object of conventional
satire. The views presented are not those of the narrator, but those
of the Honk: they must be interpreted in the light of satire and
allusion, and the result is that the Monk indicts himself, an interest-
ing and effective switch from the usual situation. Chaucer recognizes
its effectiveness and uses variations on this technique in the con-
fessicnal monologues of the Wife of Bath, Pardoner, and Canon's'Ieoman.

Chaucer is also quite capable of utilizing variation in the
narrator's point of view to achieve such the same effect. His persona
listens wide-eyed to the worldly Monk's pontificstions concerning
cloistered life:

Ihat sholde he studio and make hymselve wood,

Upon a book in cloystre alwey to pours,

Or swynken with his handes, and labours,

As Austyn bit? How shal the world be served?

Lat Austyn have his swynk to hym reserved! (18h—188)

And I seyde his opinion was good. (183)
The naivepilgrim nods his head in agreement with the impressive,
loquacious Mhmk. But the reader sees through the worldly display

which so obviously blinds the narrator. The Monk is clearly in

33
violation of many of the rules of his order, but Chaucer's persona does
not see this. In perceiving the deception the reader is required to
look at the flank again, more closely, to see how he dupes his listener.
The result is a portrait which is seemingly more lifelike than simple
convention would admit. We view this personage as though he were real,
and as soon as Chaucer forces us to examine him as a human being,
"Chaucerian realism" has conquered.

Chaucer's haphazard arrangement of details in the portrait con-
tributes to the impression that the Monk is an actual person, present
in appearance, beliefs, and personal tastes. Much as he did with the
Prioress, Chaucer lists details concerning the Monk in a manner which
completely lacks apparent organization. He speaks first of his love
of hunting, then his apparent virility, then jumps to his horse, his
opinions on religious rules, his hunting again, his dress, his physiog-
nomy, his dress again, his culinary tastes, his horse once more. This
is no head-to-toe catalogue of the appearance of a type. Its very
haphazardness is like life; the observational pattern may not be quite
the same as psychology would dictate, but the haphazardness definitely
implies casual observation and casual recall of details. It also keeps
the naive narrator in our minds, for we see with his eyes.

The Monk is described with great abundance of detail. In number
of conventional details his portrait ranks high among the pilgrims.13
The poet plays with conventional satire and mg m to imply
a sensual, worldly, virile cleric:

A Monk ther was, a fair for the maistrie,

in outridere, that loved venerie,

A manly man, to been an abbot able. (165-167)

This ilke Honk leet olde thynges pace,
And heeld after the news world the space,

34

He yaf net of that text a pulled hen,

That saith that hunters been nat hooly men,

He that a monk, when he is recchelees,

Is likned til a fissh that is waterlees,-

This is to seyn,“a monk out of his cloystre.

But thilke text heeld he nat worth an oystre. (175-182)
The homely, proverbial expressions, "not worth an oystre," ". . . a
nun," ". . . a pulled hen" brilliantly contrast with the suave monk
and add a sort of common-sense element to the conventional satire.
Part of its effectiveness lies in the naive narrator's tendencies to
grasp at commonplaces, but even in these, Chaucer is conventional.
Gower, chlif, and Langland all use the likeness of the fish out of
mater in speaking of wandering monks. Langland writes:

Gregorie the grete clerk gart write in bokes

The ruele of alle religious ryghtful and obedient.

Right as fisshes in flod whenne hen faileth water,

Deyen for drouthe whenne thei drye liggen,

Ryght so religion roteth and sterveth,
That out of covent and cloistre coveyteth to dwelle.

1#

Chaucer's narrator, ostensibly reporting the Monk's beliefb-"This ilke
Honk . . . heeld . . ."-abandone the didactic satiric mode of these
other writers. He elaborates the fish out of water motif to include

other homely notions of vorthleesness, further departing from didacti-

cism. He even further un-dignifies the point by colloquially offer-
ing explanations of what he has already said: "This is to seyn . . ."
The Monk similarly disregards the precepts of Augustine,
Benedict, and Maurus in avoiding the monastic life of labor. Benedict
writes, "Idleness is an enemy of the soul. Because this is so brethren

15

ought te be occupied at specified times in manual labor." Augustine

writes that no monk may excuse himself for prayer, songs, or study, for
he is free to pray, sing, and meditate as he works.16 But the Monk's

rationale is based not even on the usual holy excuses:

35

What sholde he studio and make hymselven wood;
Upon a book in cloystre alwey to poure,

Or swynken with his handes, and labours,

As Austyn bit? How shal the world be served?
Lat Austyn have his swynk to hym reserved!
Therfore he was a prikasour aright. (18h-189)

The Menk will serve the world through his hunting and his pilgrimages,
both activities roundly condemned by the church. The generous numbers
of satiric and regulatory documents concerning the hunting monk
indicates the seriousness of the abuse. Sven Gower writes:
” That monk who is made keeper or seneschal of an outside office

is not a good cloisterer, for to run about he must have horse

and saddle and money to spend. He lives like a lord and becomes

silly and vain. 'All is ours,‘ says such a monk in his luxurious

living. . . . For their pleasure, these wealthy monks keep

falcons and hawks for river fowl, and dog, and great, fresh

horses for hunting and chasing the hare.
The facts supported this literary criticism. Bowden states:

If we turn to actual records, we find that only a generation

or so before Chaucer's time fifteen hundred horses for hunting

were stabled at Leicester Abbey. Although the Chapter of the

Augustinian Order which met at Leicester in 13h6 decreed that

hunting dogs were not to be kept by the monks, defeat of such

a measure was immediately admitted by the addition of a

provisory clause which stated that if hounds should boakept,

they were at least to be excluded from the refectory!
It is at once clear that Chaucer!s Monk fits the convention. But
Chaucer makes surprisingly little use of the convention itself, prefer-
ing to allude to it, thus leaving the reader himself to characterize the
Monk from his knowledge of the typical hunting monk. Chaucer mentions
the Monk's love of the hunt four times, all but one reference extremely
brief. Moreover, the references are separated, in keeping with Chaucer's
"haphasard," so that the facts are restated, or rather re—alluded to,
several times. The details themselves are:

A Monk that... . . .
. . . that lovede venerie. (165-166)

Ful many a deyntee hers hadde he in stable. (168)

36

H. yaf nat of that text a pulled hen,
That seith that hunters ben nat hooly men. (177-178)

Therfore he was a prikasour aright:

Grehoundes he hadde as swift as fowel in flight;

Of prikyng and of huntyng for the hare

was al his last, for no cost welds he spare. (189-192)

Little in the substance of these remarks individualizes the Monk in any
way. But the haphazard appearance of the lines, coupled with the
narrative persona's wide-eyed credulousness, makes than simple facts,
almost admirable skills of the worldly Honk, rather than sinful faults
deserving of satiric condemnation.

The Monk's fine clothes are likewise innocently mentioned in
connection with his physiognomy and dinner-table preferences. Extrava-
gance in dress and at table are of course condemned by both Church
Authorities and satirists, but Chaucer lists specific items without
disapproval:

I seigh his slaves purfiled at the hond

with grys, and that the fynest of a lend;

And, for to festne his hood under his chyn,

He hadde of gold ywroght a ful curious pun;

A love-knotte in the gretter ends ther was.

His heed was balled, that sheen as any glam,

And ask his face, as he hadde been enoynt.

He was a lord ful fat and in good poynt;

His eyes steps, and rollynge in his heed,

That stemed as a forneye of a leed;

His bootes souple, his here in greet estaat.

New certeinly he was a fair prelaat;

He was nat pale as a forpyned goost.

A fat swan loved he beat of any roost.

His palfrey was as broun as is a berye. (193-207)

This piling up of detail without comment or apparent organization con-
tributes to the effect that the description is the result of the
narrator's observation. No matter that no detail of itself individual-
ises the Honk; the cumulative effect is highly individual simply by

virtue of its many aspects and apparent completeness.

37

The resulting portrait occupies the curious position of a satiric
sketch which makes no direct contacts with the satiric mode. The
narrator, who ”seyde [the Monk's] opinion was good," is obviously taken
in by the Monk‘s worldliness and suavity. Satire here arises entirely
out of allusions to traditionally satiric material. The reader is left
to reconcile the satiric details with the non-satiric ‘ attitude of
Chaucer's persona. Thus the satire acquires two objects: the Honk, who
is portrayed through allusions to satiric conventions, and in a mirror-
effect, the narrator, who innocently believes all that glitters is gold.
The narrator, like Harry Bailly who later displays his coarseness in a
familiar and tasteless prodding of the cleric whom he addresses as
immoral and lascivieus, stresses the suave worldliness and manifest
virility of the Honk. But both views are subject to ironic development
in the prologue to the Monk's Tale where this questionable cleric
effectually has the last word, a turn discussed in the following chapter.

As we shall see, variation of the conventional figure is typical of
Chaucer's characterizations, and forms the core of the mimetic personage
who is a familiar member of society, but more than a type. The Monk
consists of typical conventions, but he "seems" real because the
conventions have not been related in the typical way. The narrator
who in satire represents the norm and occupies the judgment seat is
here taken in by a slick personality. Details are thick.and by their
specificity obscure their typicality. The narrative is haphazard and
very different from the didactic and expository tone of satire. The
Honk is a paradox-a "living" convention. we see too many sides of him
to believe him an abstraction, yet the things we see are far from

muddumOQe

38
Muriel BO‘den opens her discussion of the ”Worthy Friar" with
the observation that, “The Friar is one of the most strongly individual-

ized figurOl Chaucer introduces to us: he is also one of the most

1 ,
typical." 9 The conventions from which Chaucer's portrait is drawn are

indeed typical. of a strong movement which flourished in the fourteenth

century, ‘home aim was to discredit the mendicants.2° The question of

Huberd's individualization is not often touched upon, however, and
indeed. Boner: seems to base her remark on the fact that Huberd,

because he possesses an unusual name, must have had topical, contemporary

significance. But such significance does not constitute either realism

°f individualization, and the essence of Chaucer's realism in the

“Fiction of the Friar must be sought in the conventional aspects of
th. ”trait. V

The mendicant orders arose early in the thirteenth century but
heir reputation had fallen sadly by Chaucer's day. Founded with

imam“, humility , 1;th were at first highly praised for their simpli-
°1t¥ and spirituality:

At about this time [1206], the preachers who are called
Minors . . . suddenly emerged and filled the earth.

Dwelling by tens or by sevens in cities and in towns,

owning nothing whatever, living according to the Gospel,
preferring the utmost poverty in food and clothing, walking
unshod, they showed the greatest example of humility to all
men. . . . The Miners were discovered to be as much the more
clear-sighted in their contemplation of heavenly matters as
they were alien to earthly matters and to carnal pleasures.
They keep no kind of food in reserve for themselves, in order
that the spiritual poverty which thrives in their minds may

be sage known to all through their deeds and their way of
life.

D‘Cty set in with the second generation, and by Chaucer's time, the
“ttlee between the mendioants and the secular and regular clergy,

““1 among the four orders, had raged for nearly 150 years.

39
According to Professor Williams, the principal roots of the
hostilities were three-fold: the basic rule of "evangelical poverty"
obliged the friars to own nothing and to beg their livings; parochial
work of 13““:th and hearing confessions encroached on the domain of
local alarm”; the pursuit of studies in the universities soon
brought 131° friars into disputes with the secular clergy who had
hitherto swunopolimed those institutions.22 Ihile attacks on the
aendicants were more or less constant, they centered around three
perieds and three men whose works became the sustaining arguments in
all. the attacks. The earliest disputes of the 12h0's produced
"1111“ or 51:- hour'- 22 missile new 12mm. vhich
”'8‘“ that the friars preached without a calling, cultivated friends
““8 the rich and powerful, and captivated weak women. A century
1‘“? Richard FitsRalph, Archbishop of Armagh and the friars' most
fbr‘idhrble opponent, preached a series of sermons against the mendi-
cant. and presented his W W to the Papal curia. His
Ruck concentrates on the usurping of the rights of the parish clergy
by the friars, who through their easy penances weakened both the clergy
end the Church hierarchy. In the 1380's the Wycliffite attack joined
“at of FitsRalph, linking the friars with heretics who persecute the
Go"bfils, with attacks on transubstantiation, and with the worship of
z""Ses. Williams sees little evidence that these Wycliffite attacks
'1" related to Chaucer's satire of the friars, however.”
When we set Chaucer's Huberd against this background, we find
"so tically nothing about him which distinguishes him from the typical
n‘1ar pictured by the mendicants' enemies. The portrait of the

“moral Prologue is a compendium of the typical charges. Ten lines

#0
include thOlI all:

In all. the erdres foure is noon that kan
So 111161161 of daliaunce and fair langage.
Be hadde mead ful many a mariage

Of yonso women at his owene cost.

Unto his: erdre he was a noble post.

Ful '01 biloved and famulier was he

With frankeleyns over al in his countree,
And 001: with worthy women of the toun;
For he hadde power of cenfessioun,

A8 ”Vac hymself, moors than a curat,

For or his ordre he was licenciat. (210-220)

_ Educated, a talented speaker, Huberd is popular with women and known

“088 the "better people." He claims, like Friar John of the Summoner's

“1°: to be a better confessor than the parish priest, and Chaucer
proceed. to elaborate on his talented hearing of confessions, which is
"“1 nets" and brings "pleasunt" abedlution:

H. was an esy man to yeve penaunce,
or as he wists to have a good pitaunce.

Gr unto a povre ordre for to yive
In signe that a man ismwel yshryve;
For if he yaf, he dorste make avaunt,
HO wists that a man was repentaunt;

or many a man so hard is of his herte,
He may set wepe, althogh hym score “smerte.
Therfore in stede of wepynge and preyeres
Men moote yeve silver to the povre freres. (223-232)

Th” abuse is common and is condemned by 181181835 in 21m him. by
3°..r in the 29.2.9332 g; m, and many others. The general indis-
n‘tion is perhaps best expressed by the "Sons A8313” “10 31'1””:

Thai say that thai distroye synne,
And thai mayntene men moste therinne;
For hadde a man slayn al his kynne,
Go shryve him at a frere,
And for lease then a payre of shone
He wyl assoil him close and some,
And say the synne that he has done
His saule shal never dere.
It semes sothe that men sayne of hayme
. in many More londe,
That that caytyfe cursed ngme
first this order fonds.

In
Chaucer's characterization of Huberd is, without doubt, in this vein,
but he does not, like the satirists, gravely assert the wrongs of the
friars. Th0 “ Song Against the Friars" utilizes the standard satiric
technique. of éxaggeration: a nan sq .1” all his kin, and for the
Moe of I. Mr of shoes, be forgiven all. Gower, in the m g;
1.2m, 118.08 abstract personifications, Friar Hypocrisy and Friar

2 ,
Flattery. 5 Langland does much the same; the confession of Irath

exposes the mendicants.26
Chaucer, however, at no point condemns Huberd outright. The

“uric material is left to work on its own, almost outside satire,

““1 1' Outed with remarks like, "Thor nas no man nowher so vertuous."
chW-‘Or works through indirection and subtle irony. Bis naive narrator,
1""qu by the Friar's efficient begging, can indeed call his
Mum‘s. The reader, faced with a sass of satiric material presented
m°°0ntlv and without consent by the narrator, must react to both the
“ti-1‘11: conventions and the narrator's ironic innocence. Chaucer's
nmtor persona is consistent]: and ironically loyal to his companions
thr°mout the W M. His descriptions boast an ostentatious
°b3°¢tivityg he refuses to condemn or criticize, even when the fault
1' Obvious. Meanwhile, the less attractive pilgrims indict themselves.
Huber-eve attitudes towards easy confession are presented from a double.
or Perhaps triple, point of view. First, relying on allusion, is the
'1'- of the aatiriat; confession to a friar is no confession, only a
m‘mcial satter of buying oneself out of one's sins. Secondly, we
o‘tfinsibly see the Friar's point of view. Huberd knew, Chaucer tells
“e that a nan was repentant if he- would offer silver or gold. The

nitrate:- hiaself offers no criticism of the Friar's rationale,

1+2
apparently accepting the word of this man of the cloth. The reader
malt, of course, view this ironically; the narrator himself thus
becomes an object of his own ironic satire. The usual satiric invoc-
tivo is circumvented by Chaucer's overlapping of these views of the
Friar's actions; the satire which results is gentler, highly ironic, and
considerably more effective than didactic castigation.

From Huberd's religious practices Chaucer moves to his physical

appearance and worldly talents:

His typet was q farsed ful of knyves

And pynnes for to yevon fairs wyves.

And certainly he hadde a murye note:

Vol koude he syngo and pleyen on a rote;

0f yedmges he bear outrely the pris.

His nekke whit was as the flour-de-lys;
Therto he strong was as a champioun.

He knew the tavernes wel in every toun

And everich hostiler and tappestere. (233-242)

Like those of the Monk's portrait, the details here are haphazard. The
800‘ voice, white neck, musical talents, and physical strength are
not in themselves unusual, but are worldly concerns in a friar. While
the attributes they would indicate-c-pride, lecherousness, vanity—are
30"- unknown to standard satire of the friars, the appearance of the
indicative details without the satiric rationale adds concrete descrip-
tiv. detail to the portrait, cutting its heavy conventionality. Huberd
““1. acquires traits which broaden the typical picture and contribute
t° the over-all effect of the portrait as a niretic portrayal of a
iris;- who happens to be much like the satiric type.

In keeping with his worldly tastes, Huberd is careful: -of the
company he keeps:

For unto swich a worthy man as he

Acorded net, as by his facultee,
To have with siks lasars aqueyntaunce.

1+3

It is nat honest, it may nat avaunce,

For to deelen with no swich poraille,

But a1 with riche and selleres of vitsille.
And over al, thor as profit sholde arise,
Curtois he was and lovely of servyso. (216-250)

In this he follows faithfully in the footsteps of Faus Semblant of

the mashzm=

J'aneroie mious l'a ccintanco
.c. mile tans du roi do France
que d'un povre, par Nostro Dane,
Tout oust il ausinc bone ame!
Quant Jo voi tous nus cos truanz
trembler sus ces fumiers puans
do froit, do fain crier at brere,
no m'entremet de leur affere. (11211-11218)

0 O O O O O O O
I would a hundred thousand times prefer the acquaintance of
the King of France to that of a poor man, by our lady, even
though he had as good a soul. When I see those poor devils
all naked, shivering with cold on those stinldng dunghills,
crying and howling with hunger, I don't meddle in their
bm0“e (197)

Both. are sorry representatives of the image set by St. Francis:
hence that lover of utterost humility betook himself unto
the lepers, and abode among them, with all diligence
serving them all for the love of God. He would bathe their
foot, and bind up their sores, drawing forth the corrupt
matter from their wounds, and wiping am the blood.
Chane er's passage is deliberately softened, its satire relatively
Mtle when compared to Jean do Heun. Huberd is content with the
°°‘Peny of the rich bourgeoisie, while Faus Semblant wants that of
th. King of France. Moreover, Chaucer does not vividly point out the
1M’rrore of the life which Huberd avoids, as do Jean and st. Bona-
V‘ntura. Stinking dunghills and bloody sores do not mix with Huberd's
Bleak gentility: Chaucer's picture is both loss vivid and less satiric
than that of Jean. Chaucer will not allow his figure to become
entirely the victim of satiric convention; he does not push the

convention as far as it will go. The portrait he draws is indeed

 

hi,
satiric, but it stops short of making Huberd a monster.
A similar process is at work in the lines describing Huberd's

adopt begging:

For thcgh a wydwe hadde ncght a she,

So plesamt was his "I; We"

Iot wolde he have a ferthyng, or he wente. (253-255)

"In W," the opening words of the Gospel according to John, were
regarded as almost magical in the Middle Ages, and were considered to
be almost the "property" of the friars.28 But Chaucer indicates
nothing which would make Huberd a cheat or extorticnist on this
account. He is the "bests boggore" in his house because of his
Pleasant charm; Huberd is a slick salesman, but we are given no reason
to uses in him the vicious friar of the Summoner's Tale. Again,

Chane er alludes to the satiric commonplace withhut following it to its
MEI-cal end.

The brief mention of Huberd's talents at lovodays is yet another
indication of his worldliness. The loveday, originally designed to
enable litigants to settle cases out ofcourt, presumably insuring
amicability among the parties involved, had degenerated to unjust
”ttlemonts forced by those who possessed power. The clergy
°r181nally arbitrated, but were forbidden to participate after
“Saneracy set in, except in cases of the poor. In the fourteenth
°°ntury prohibitions were many, and the institution was condemned by
Nth Wyclif and Lungland.‘29 Thus the association of Huberd with the

101"!” contributes to the general questionableness of his morals, but
‘1'. the same time varies the usual satire of the mendicant, for love-

days appear not to have been among the typical topics.

Lastly, and typically, Chaucer closes .the portrait with more

 

1&5
vivid descriptive detail, calculated to leave a distinct impression

on the reader of the "wantowne," "meryo" limiter:
For ther he was not lyk a cleysterer
With a thredbare cope, as is a povre scoler,
But he was lyk a maister er a pope.
Of double werstede was his semycepe,
That rounded as a belle out of tho prosse.
Semwhat ho lipsed, for his wantownesse,
To make his Englissh sweets upon his tongs;
And in his harpyng, when that he hadde songs,
His eyes twynkled in his head aryght,
As deen the sterros in the frosty nyght. (259-268)
Like the few lines concerning the Friar' s physical appearance and
unusual talents discussed above, these final details are rooted in
satire but add to the concrete immediacy of the vignette. The elegant
cope reiterates the descropancy between the friars' avowed life of
”Verty and the actualities of fourteenth-century England. It too, is
derived from contemporary accounts of the friars.30 But, as in the
lines on Huberd's avoidance of beggars and lanai-s, Chaucer does not
carry through with bitter satire. Huberd is "nat lyk a cleysterer /
'1“! throdbare cope, as is a povre scelor." Chaucer might have said
that he was not like St. Francis, who gave up all his clothes that he
“18111: marry poverty; Giotto shows him receiving the embarrassed
mintratiens of bystanders, concerned to cover his nakedness. Chaucer
“0a not speak scernfully of the worsted cope, though that detail is
uthcut doubt intended to be satiric. Similarly, the Friar lisps,
”to make his Englissh sweets upon his tongs." The ambiguity of his
Purpose is let stand: a vicious satirist weuld_peint out that sweet
mBlish seduces helpless women all the sooner. And the final lines,
And in his harpyng, when that he hadde songs,

His eyen twynkled in his head aryght,
As deen the sterros in the frosty nyght,

 

46
serve more to recapitulate the conventions already touched upon, with
added detail, than to deliver the final satiric mp 32 m. Huberd
may indeed be one of the worst, but Chaucer emphasises the twinkling
eye. more than the black soul. His satire is mellow and humorous,
seasoned with salt, perhaps, but not gall.

Thus the question of the Friar's typicality and individuality is
considerably more complicated than Bowdon's reasoning (see page 38
shove) would indicate. Huberd is indeed a typical figure, and his
portrayal reflects many of the satiric weapons of the anti-mondicant
ferc es of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. But, as Arnold
Villiams has warned us,31 we should not be'too eager to accept the
satiric portraits, products of a singularly biased authorship, as the
“Opel-truth ef mendicancy in the Middle Ages. Similarly, we must not
'9' 'toe quick to accept Huberd as a friar of anti-mondicant satire.
“Wm Chaucer includes most aspects of the satirists' charges, he
'10.. met, as we have seen, allow his satire to become Juvenalim. He

rather establishes a gentle Heratian tone through the emission of
'9‘. details, the dilution of others, the careful, detailed description
“1143}: makes the Friar a "person" rather than a caricature, and the
n.Jl‘rator's seemingly objective presentation. This is not to an that
th. Friar must not be taken as typical: the sheer wealth of convention-
‘1 detail establishes his typicality. But he is described with a
1Iii-emit» and depth which establishes him as a personage, not a
°‘ricature.

It is enlightening to compare the sketch of the Friar with these

which-precede it, particularly the portraits of Knight, Yeoman,

Prioress, and Honk. Like the Prioress and Honk, the Friar is a

r‘

1+7

religious who leaves much to be desired in the performance of his
church-oriented duties. Like the Prioress and Monk and Knight ho is
described primarily in terms of conventions. The Prioress, however, is
not described in the "typical" way, since the details of her portrait
are not drawn from religious life. The Monk's description utilises
both conventional and non-conventional materials, and it is the shifting
between the two, together with the Monk's assertiveness and the narrator's
.pprobation, which provide the "all-around" characterisation-«ho
40171:]: which saves character from caricature. There is little to vary
the conventional detail in the Friar's portrait, however. Chaucer
"aids caricature not so much through variation of convention as
through mellowing of it and through the overwhelming amount of detail
which portrays him in so many situations that its sheer many-sidedness
POchts him from becoming a caricature. Thus convention works in
curious ways to produce both mimetic and non-mimetic personatiens. The
K“18111:, embodiment of the idealized, conventionalized aspects of
chi-V‘lry, has no "character" at all. The Yeoman, described in inordi-
3“. detail, has no more personality than his master. Like the Knight
“1d his chivalry, he is the embodiment of ”yeomanliness." Concrete
"tails give him no character. But the clerical figures described
thus far are as conventional as the Knight, lacking on the whole the
°°ncroteness of the Yeoman, yet they are more vivid and more mimetic
then any of the chivalric figures. Each of the mimetic figures is
“Oecribed in terms of conventions which imply attitudes: the cen-
Yentions are themselves concrete. Lacking the idealisation of the
chivalric characters, they are free to exist in Middle Earth. Each is

pertrqed in several situations—situations which bring out both the

48
good and the bad. The Prioross, Monk, and Friar have, as we would
call it today, "personality." The conventions through which each is
pxmrtrayod contribute to that personality by indicating ways in which
the character views certain problems in the world. Moreover, and most
important, these viewpoints are plausible. Plausibility is rooted in
both the variety which we find in those pilgrims and in the "humannoss,"
or mimetic qualities evidenced in them. The Knight has no such
"humanness," at least not in the General Prologue, because our own
norms of Judgment tell us that no person exists entirely on the level
of idealized abstractions--truth, honor, courtesy, etc. Thus, in
direct contradiction to many accepted critical conclusions, the
conventions, the clich6s of medieval literature, become means to
concrete characterization. Through the clich6 we enter the minds and
souls of ostensibly "undeveloped" medieval characters. This is in no
"Y Isimilar to modern notions of "realistic characterization," of
“Er-e. It is Chaucer's characterization, and it produces characters
in the W 23195 which are unlike any others.
The three religious figures discussed above constitute an ideal
illustration of the principle that the realistic figure is portrayed
11‘ terms of this earthly, transitory life, in contrast to the ideal-
:1.sz figure, which is seen in abstract simplicity. The Prioross,
'102th:, and Friar are most appropriate exemplars of this transitory end
91 the spectrum, yet each contains within him the potential for per-
fectien. Every human does, of course, but these pilgrims possess an
added dimension insofar as we see both the potential and the failure to
fulfill it. Religious vocations by definition aim at the attainment

0f perfection, but it is through Chaucer's portrayal of the transitory,

 

#9
the earthly failings of the Prioress, Monk, and Friar, that the
characters become alive, mimetic, realistic. For mimesis is fidelity
to life as we know it; perfection is within our knowledge, but often
beyond our grasp. This constant comparison of the actuality and the
ideal is a mimetic technique; it sharpens our awareness of the tran-
sitory lifelikeness of these figures. Convention works in a similar
w , enhancing characterization; through variations of the typical
we are again called to witness the apparent "realism" of the characters.
The key to this process is illusion. Through comparisons to the
“Pramundane, the trite, or the unexpected, these personages are made
to " seem" alive. The realism of these figures consists not so much of
their fidelity to the realities of the fourteenth century as of their
apparent censonance with what we understand human nature to be like,
conventional or not.

‘The Friar's portrait, with sixty-two lines the longest of the
General Prologue, is followed by that of the Merchant, one of the
{Forfitest. The vignette is a tribute to the deft sketch; in fifteen
11-11.. we learn of the Merchant's appearance, financial status, ':the
1“Ware of his business, and are given certain hints that his
"chtvyssaunce" is not all legal. The directness of this description
contrasts with the wandering, haphazard portraits of the Friar and Monk.
The brevity of the sketch makes it feasible to quote its entirety:

A Merchant was ther with a forked herd,

In mottelee, and hye on horse he sat;

Upon his heed a Flaundryssh bever hat,

His resons he spak ful solempnely,

Sownynge alwey th'encress of his wynnyng.

He welds the see were kept for any thyng

Bitwixe Middelburgh and Orewelle.

Isl koude he in eschaunge sheeldes selle.
This worthy man ful wel his wit bisette:
Ther wiste no wight that he was in dette,

 

(“I

f:

50

So estatly was he of his governaunce

With his bargaynes and with his chevyssaunce.

For sothe he was a worthy man with alle,

But, sooth to seyn, I meet how men hym calle. (270b28h)

Borden has pointed out the many elements of this portrait which, if
not literary conventions, were at least typical of the merchants of
Chaucer's day.32 These include the dignified dress and mount, the
concern for gain and freedom of the seas, the temptations to deal in
"chovyssaunce"--money lending-«and "eschaunge"-foreign currencies,“
both outlawed, and the especial concern to keep one's debts concealed.
In ‘11 these things Chaucer's nameless Merchant is typical.

IFor all the concise, concrete detail, however, the Merchant is
less "alive" than the Friar or Monk, a warning that realism does not
consist merely of detail, although the proportion of the number of
dfitails to the number of lines in the portrait is extremely high. The
333<=Irity of the details, however, refers to externals: "a forked berd";
"13- Imottelee"; "hye on horse he sat"; "a Plaundryssh bever hat";
"bootes clasped fairs and fetisly." Still, the Merchant is not quite
0° faceless as the Knight's Yeoman. The Yeoman's portrait consists
“lost entirely of such details and of comments on his yeomanly
abilities. We learn little of the man in the sense that we understand
th. ethos of Prioress, Honk, or Friar. The Merchant strikes a median
”int; in the Prologue portrait, his concerns are only hinted at:

His resons he spal: ful solempmely,
Sewnynge alwey th'encress of his wynnyng.

Iel koude hemin eschaunge sheeldes selle.

This worthy man ful wel his wit bisette:
Ther wiste no wight that he was in dette.

Even those comments come at the characterization sideways, from a

business angle. We assume that the Merchant values the appearance of

 

51

financial prosperity above all else, but this information of itself

does not create a mimetic figure. Chaucer breaks with his narrator's

limited point of view to say, "Thor wiste no wight that he was in
dette," but this too tells he little about the Merchant, aside from the

fact that he prefers that his debts remain hidden. The Merchant's

characterization is controlled by his occupation and‘ function in

He remains merely a merchant until he reveals more of himself
It is only at this point

locioty.
to the pilgrims in the prologue to his tale.
(to be discussed in the following chapter) that the figure of the
MOlftzilmant is expanded to a mimetic personage, that he becomes a human
“in: with human concerns to be shared with the other pilgrims.

The Merchant's portrait thus shows clearly the ways in which
d't‘ils, 1334;, can be used to create a figure of apparent prosperity,
but one which ie mimetic only in a partial, eaternal sense. The use
°t 2.9.91.2 implies a fidelity to externals, but it ie only when the
.‘t .rnals are used in combination with techniques for the depiction of

1111.,” or personal values that we have the essential mimetic elements of

O.
cllancerian realism."
The Clerk, traditionally regarded as one of Chaucer's ideal

t1three, shows us that descriptive detail and the ideal type are not
‘htually exclusive. Spare detail enhances the moral type:

is leene was his here as is a rake,

And he nae nat right fat, I undertake,
But looked helwe, and thereto sobrely.
Pul thredbare was his overeste courtepy. (287-290)

Of studie too]: he moost cure and moost heede.
Noght o word spak he moors than was neede,
And that was seyd in forme and reverence,
And short and any]: and ful of hy sentence;

Sownynge in moral virtu was his speche,
And gladly wolde he lerne and gladly techs. (303-308)

52
I t has been observed that the ideal clerk has really no conventional

type-wine life of the virtuous student has no anemia."33 01: the
othorvhand, records attest to the frequency of town and gown battles
which, were fatal to many of the participants. Chaucer's Clerk is
obviously a representative of a more scholarly milieu than that of the
clorks who made contemporary news. Detail in the portth at every
turn enhances the figure of the ideal scholar: his clothes and horse
ar- not good because he spends all his money on books; he is not
erdly, hence he has no benefice; he prays for those who give him
honey; he does not talk overmuch; "gladly wolde he lerne and gladly
1"males." The details are concrete, but each is subordinated to the
1“«intimation of the figure. f

The Clerk, as an idealized figure, is a purine example of the
"inner discipline in an abstract structure" of which when speaks:

The higher the concept that a figure is meant to embou,

the more simplified is its form; . . . But even the

figures of the higher order should not lack what is

intrinsic to their physical nature; in the wor of St.

Thomas, 9% must be Joined to We
The Clerk ie of the simplified form. The details through which he is
d.-cribed are kept to the minimum required by hie physical nature,
‘hie‘ln ie actually an embodimcnt of hie higher ideal of scholarship.
Th. apareness of the detail entirely eliminates characteristics seen
by Dvorak to be the signs of realism-«the transitoriness and imper-
t’ctness of life. The Clerk is like the Knight in that he is ideal-
1'.d; he is unlike hie insofar as he is not limited by real-world
r.t.rences or occupation to a specific era. The simplified form which

th. idealized figure always has is the substance of its universality.

1“ idealized figure does leave room for mimetic detail, but that

53

fiestail is not generous and is at every point subordinated to the ideal.
The details themselves are not too unlike those used to describe
matic figures, but their purpose is different; they provide here a
View of a single side of the character, and they unanimously reinforce
tho type. In other portraits we find that mimetic details contribute
‘tem 'variations of conventions, and through variation bring out non-
_oon1rentional aspects of the personage described. Such is not the case
With the ideal Clerk.

The Man of Law, along with the Shipman and others, has been the
mbdoct of much research which would link him to a historical person,
Thou-u Pynchbek in this case. The realistic or mimetic qualities of
the portrait require no such link, however, and gain nothing from it
Oxcopt a possible pun on Pynchbek's name in line 326, a possible "in"
301:0. The Sergeant is one of the few pilgrims who is not described
”Clearly. We learn only that he rides in homely clothes, and that
110 has many fine robes at home. The fabric of the portrait consists
1"431:1” of the Justice's operations, which are couched in legal termi-
n°1<mgy appropriate to their subject:

Justice he was ful often in assise,
By patente and by pleyn commissioun. (Bib-315)

So greet a purchasour was nowher noon:

Al was fee ammple to hym in effect;

His purchasyng myghte not been infect.

Nether so biay a man as he ther use,

And yet he semed bisier than he was.

In termes hadde he cas, and doomes alle

That from the tyne of kyng Iilliam were falle.
Therto he koude endite, and make a thyng,

Ther koude no wight pynche at his writyng;

And every statut koude he pleyn by rote. (318-327)

1.11. "purchasyng" at which the Man of Law is so adept may well refer,

Professor Williams informs me, to a not-quite-legal process of finding

5h
loopholes through which entailed estates could be converted to "fee
nymph." Such a process might involve a buyer's bringing suit against
feudal land held by one who wished to, but could not legally, sell.
Through the decision of the uncontested suit, the bwer would be
awarded the land. Thus the Sergeant was one means by which the feudal
"stem was being destroyed. The legal language of the description is
oaday Juxtaposed with the narrator's naiwetv’e:

Discret he was and of greet reverence-
He semed swich, his wordes weren so wise. (312-313)

The innocent pose is not kept up consistently, however; the narrator
500‘ remark that "he semed bisier than he was." The portrait thus has
an ambivalent tone. Described in terms of his legal milieu, the
8"Peasant is all business. His abilities are without doubt somewhat
u‘sgerated: "In termes hadde he can, and demos alle / That from the
tin- of kyng William were falle." But the "e . . semed bisier than he

“I." casts a definite shadow on the busy legal concerns of the per-

trfiit. Its effect is more humorous than satirical, however, since the
mirest possibilities for satire have been ignored.

Like the Merchant the Man of Law is described in terms of his
occupation, but unlike the description of the Merchant, hie appearance,
1‘13 dress, his horse are all ignored. As a character he exists only
'1‘:th the legal sphere. The legal world is concisely portrayed
through Chaucer's cataloging of things all good sergeants of the law
'hOnld be able to do; the exaggeration and hint of satiric humor add
'°1‘V‘e to the otherwise dull concerns of the lawyer. But the legal
‘°1‘1d cannot by iteelf vivify the Man of Law. He remains merely ite

1‘Plcesentative, hardly a character in his own right.

Descriptive details in the Franklin's portrait center primarily

/'\

55

on life in his household with its snow of meat and drink:

Withoute bake mete was nevere his hous

Of fissh and flessh, and that so plentevous,

It snowed in his hous of note and drynke,

Of all deyntees that men koude thynke.

After the sondry sesons of the yeer,

So chaunged he his nets and his souper.

Ful many a fat partrich hadde he in muwe,

Ful many a broom and many a luce in stuwe. (BhB-BSO)

The ever-present table becomes the hallmark of "Epicurus owene sons";
"To lyven in delit" is "verray felicitee parfit.” The portrait comes
to mind later as we hear the Franklin expound on M. We are
Sivan not a detailed description of the man, but an outline of his

Philosophy of life, fleshed out with references to table, partridges,

the cook and his sauce.

The Franklin belongs to the literary type of the wealthy vavasour,

'h" s as a member of the gentry, oftentimes offers luxuriant hospi-

mluxury to. the knight-errant. That the popular imagination also
‘°¢Orded franklins the elegance of romance is indicated by John

13113-10. fifteenth century £95; 91 gm in which he gives a menu for
"A Foot for a Franklen":

A Franklen may make a feste Improberabille,
Brawne with mustard is concordable,
bakon serued with- pesos,

beef or moton stewed ssruysable,
Boyled Chykon or capon agreable,
convenyent for the seson;

Rested goose & pygge fulle profitable,
Capon / Bakemete, or Custade Costable,
when eggis & crayme be geson.

therfore stuffs of housheld is behoveable,
Hortrewes or Iussslle ar delectable
for the second courss by reson.

Than veel, lambs, kyd, or cony,
Chykon or pigeon rooted tendurly,
bakesetes or dowcettss with alle.

 

56

then followynge, frytowrs 8: a leche lovely;
Suche seruyse in sesoun is fulle semsly
To serue with bothe chambur a halls.

Then appuls 8: psris with spices delicately

After the terms of the ysre fulle deynteithly,
with bred and chose to calls.

Spilsd cakes and wafurs worthily

with bragot 8: msthe, thus men may3geryly
plsss well bothe gret 8: malls.

Chaucer's Franklin seems the perfect exemplar of such high living.
H13 characterization is extended through allusions to St. Julian and

Emcmrus, odd table companions who represent, respectively, hospitality
“Id the good life.

Is are given only little information about the man aside from his
Epicurean tastes, and even that supports the type of the wealthy

““80” 3

'hit was his berd as is the dayesye;
Of his complexioun he was sangwyn. (332-333)

An anlaas and a gipser al of silk
Hsng at his girdsl, whit as morne milk. (357-358)

Th. sanguine complexion was indicative of a happy personality, a love

Of reed and drink. Chaucer's use of physiognomy remains consistently

tuthful to that science, here as elsewhere in the 25].”. The dagger
“d purse were worn only by the wealthier members of society, and the

"hills "whit as morne milk" reinforces the Epicurean tone of the
3P0run-eit. The Franklin's duties and offices—lord at sessions, knight
°r the shire (Member of Parliament), sheriff, and "contour" (pleadsr
1n court)-localize the, figure and support the narrator's Judgment,
""a nowher swich a worthy vavasour."

As a mimetic figure the Franklin occupies a middle ground. Like

.° laany of Chaucer's characters, he is built on a type. Chaucer

57

elaborates some of these types, namely the Prioress, Monk, and Friar,

vhile othersnthe Clerk, Yeoman, and Squire-ware left much as he finds
thou. Chaucer reinforces the type of the worthy vavasour with lines
on the Franklin's physical appearance and his function in society. His
Ep1curean tastes form the backbone of the description; his extravagant
node of living was not entirely unusual, as the "Fest for a Franklen"
indicates. The portrait acquires its fresh, striking qualities not so
me}: through. originality as through the careful selection by Chaucer of
dotails to illustrate the gourmet lifestyle. The snow of meat and
drink, the potential woes of the cook, the abundance of "many a bresn
“Id nany a luce in stuws" particularize that nice turn of phrase,
"Epicurus owene sons." But the fact thatths description rests almost
”timely on matters of the table leaves the Franklin a one-sided
°hmcter. Hia other concerns are developed along the pilgrimue
mild.

The Five Guildsmen hardly figure in the W M since
81:13. we hear nothing more of them, but Chaucer's description is con-
cito and detailed. They dress in freeh new liveries with knives
d°°°rated in silver, not brass:

And they were clothed alle in o lyveree

Of a solsmpns and a greet fraternitse.

Pul frsssh and news hir geere apiksd was;

Bir knyves were chaped noght with bras

But al in silver; wroght ful clene‘and well

Hire girdles and hir pouches everydsel. (363-368)

T° this description of external appearance the narrator adds several

1‘th on the worth and wisdom of these men. Each is a good enough
bWSOH 1:0 811% on “10 dill in th. Buildhall, to be an alderman. Each

1“. an abundance of property; their wives prefer to be called "madame,"

“‘1 much like the Wife of Bath, must be first in vigil processions, a

 

58
humorous and snide addition which verges on satire.

From these comments an ethos of the successful and powerful
guildsman emerges, very similar to the actual position of the guilds
in the fourteenth century. But the habsrdasher, carpenter, weaver,
dyor, and tapicer do not emerge as distinguishable figures. While
no detail of the portrait is improbable, the sameness of the five
fZl—smrss, all dressed alike and all of impeccable honor, causes the
reader to suspect a leveling of characters, if not exaggeration. The
worthiness of the men is in no way made explicit. The portrait depends
on details of external appearance to support a type which is then
reinforced by abstract assertions of worthiness. The worthiness is
brought in question, however, by the allusions to pride. The ideal is
thu- aullied, but the variation contributes little to the mimesis of
“10 portrait. The Guildsmen and their wives stand all in a row, all
alike, like paper dolls.

The Cook accompanies the Guildsmen, and though his place in the
31:: is incomplete, we know a great deal about him. He is talented
in his way, despite the habitual drunkeness of which we later learn.

A Cook they hadde with hem for the names

To boills the chiknss with the marybones,

And poudre-marchant tart and galyngale.

'el koude he knows a draughte of Londoun ale.

He koude roost, and sothe, and broille, and frys,

Haken mortreux, and wel bake a pye.

But greet harm was it, as it thoughts me,

That on his shyne a normal hadde he.

For blankmangor, that made he with the beats. (379-38?)
Chgucer compresses a dozen details into nine lines here, the shortest of
th. portraits. The technique used to describe the Man of Law, that
°t utilizing a catalogue of terms vithl to a man's trade, is best in

' '1dence here. The poet overwhelms the reader with details which,

59

like local color, create an atmosphere consisting of specific

Clements. The result is a seeming specificity related with breath-

lo-snsss. I

In keeping with the compaction of this portrait, Chaucer com-

presses all he has to say at present about the Cook's character into
the line, "on his shyne a normal hadde he." The normal works allusive-
fly to reveal the man's character, as Curryvhas noted. The normal, or
w m, is described thus by Bernardus ds Gordon, one of the

Phi-dcisn' s mentors:

m m is a species of scabies, which arises from

corrupted natural melancholia . . . The marks of it are

large pustules of a deaden or black color, scabbed, and

exceedingly fetid, though suppuration and discharge do not

occur; and it is frequently accompanied by a certain
insensibility in the places affected. In appearance it is
most unsightly, coming out on the hip-bones and often on

the shin-bones.

Ola-r7 further comments that the causes were given as uncleannsss,
Menus, and "disgraceful association with diseased and filthy
“cum“ Though such habits are only hinted at through allusion in
“I. General Prologue, the later events on the pilgrimage substantiate
this characterization by means of diagnosis.

Almost as an afterthought the narrator adds, "For blanksangsr,
tth made he with the bests." The grotesquerie accomplished by
mdwiching the normal between lines on mortreux, piss, and blank-
“ulcer indeed fits the grossness of the Cook. It typifies the
l"l‘lonality of the hopelessly drunken man who accompanies the bour-
8.311; but dignified Guildsmen, reflecting, however, on their hardly
d18nified choice of cock. By introducing the grotesque element in

th. midst of the Cook's culinary accomplishments Chaucer adds humor-

60
of the grotesque variety--and skirts the edges of satire. The
innocent narrator's understatement-"But greet harm was it, as it
thoughts so . . ."-destroys the whole impression of the Cook's art.
The personality implied by the causes of the normal is quite in keeping
with the Heat's attack on the uncleanness of the Cook's shop and with
his drunken fall from his horse. The character which is sketched
here-—he is never really developedr—is one of opposites and contrasts.
He cooks very well and lives very loosely, an unexpected combination
which, in keeping with Chaucer‘s tendency to vary his conventions-

37---leavas the

the cooks of London had a conventionally bad reputation
reader with the illusion that an original character has been created.
Yet on closer examination that character consists only of hints and
culinary terminology.

The Shipman's portrait is one of the most economical of all those
drawn by Chaucer. In twenty-three lines we are told much of the man's
occupation, his appearance, and something of his personality and values.
The identity of the Shipman is a question which has purportedly been
solved several times, but which nonetheless remains speculative. The
Maudelayne is indeed historical, and no doubt Chaucer had the personal-
ity traits and experiences of at least one sailor in mind when he
penned the sketch. The historical identity is hardly necessary to the
Cantgpbm gig, however.

Chaucer makes use of several techniques which we have already
observed in other portraits. Geographical references bring a con-
temporaneity and realdworld orientation to the portrait, much as they

do for the picture of the Knight. Nautical terminology is also much

in evidence, a use of the occupational diction technique already

61

observed in the sketches of the Man of Law and Cook:

But of his craft to rekene wel his tydes,

His stremes, and his daungers hym bisides,

His herberwe, and his moone, his lodemenage,

Ther nas noon swich from Hulls to Cartage.

Hardy he was and wys to undertake;

lith many a tempest hadde his berd been shake.

He knew alle the havenss, as they were,

Fro Gootland to the cape of Fynystere,

And every cryks in Britaigne and in Spayne. (h01-h09)
The ports of call indicate actual trading towns known by English sea-
men of the day. The reference to "every cryks" in Britain and Spain
serves through exaggeration to intensify the impression of the Ship-
man's great experience. A similar effect is achieved through the
generous use of the possessive "his" in the lines above: his craft, his
tides, his streams, his dangers, his harbor, his moon, his sailing
skills together,suggest that this Shipman is in personal command of
all aspects of sailing inaa lordly and proprietary way.

Chaucer includes several pointed remarks on the Shipman's morals,
unusual in his shorter portraits:

. . . certainly he was a good felawe.

Ful many a droughts of wyn had he ydrawe

Fro Burdeux-ward, whil that the chapman sleep.

Of nycs conscience took he no keep.

If that he faught, and hadde the hysr hond,

By water he sente hem hoom to every lend. (395-too)
A man of very human faults, he does not quibble over drowning his
defeated enemies, much loss over drawing from the cargo wine. Chaucer
is, as usual, careful to phrase these shortcomings obliquely: "Of nycs
conscience took.he no keep"; "By water he sente hem hoom." The phrase
"nycs conscience" effectually presents the Shipman's view; Chaucer uses

the same technique when he describes the Monk's shortcomings in words

which express the Monk's point of view, allowing no other. The

62
euphemism "by water he sente hem hoom" similarly shifts the tone of
the line away from moral Judgment. The narrator offers no overt
condemnation.

He does take advantage of the opportunity to laugh at the sun-
burned Shipmsn, however. This sailor is not at home on his heavy-
footed horse, and his clothes are more suited to the deck.than
Filed-es“

He reed upon a rouncy, as he kouthe,

In a gewne of faldyng to the knee.

A daggers hangynge on a lass hadde he

Aboute his nekke, under his arm adoun.

The hoote somer hadde maad his hewe a1 broun. (390-394;)

The portrait is extremely well-balanced, containing descriptive,
functional, and attitudinal details in equal amounts. Its propor-
tion of details is high for its twenty-three lines, and the main
limitation of its mimetic qualities is the fact that the lines con-
cerning the Shipman's value-z”. concerned only with his occupation.
Given the opportunity, Chaucer could no doubt have developed the
Ship-an into a figure much like the Reeve, or other pilgrim whose
ethos is hinted in the General Prologue and developed in the endplinks.

The Physician, like the Man of Law, is characterized almost
entirely in terms of his occupation. His portrait possesses more
details of a functional nature than that of any other pilgrim except
the Knight. Chaucer makes use of much vocabulary taken from medicine
and astrology, a practice which we will later see the Host parody.
The medical terminology is scattered throughout the vignette and
includes such terms as phisik, surgerye, astronomye, magyk natureel,

fortunes the ascendent, ymage, maladye, humour, praktisour,

lpothecaries, drogges, letuaries, diete mesurable, superfluitee,

«re-

63
norissyng, digestible, pestilence, cordial, as well as a long catalogue
of medical authorities. The vocabulary does nothing to particularize
the pilgrim but does create a semi-scientific atmosphere in which '
Chaucer can recount his abilities. In the list of the Physician's
authorities the poet utilizes the cataloging technique to overwhelm the
reader with every medical authority well—known in the Middle Ages, and
some not so well known:

.Iel knew he the olde Esculapius,

And Deyscorides, and oak Rufus,

Olde‘Ipocras, Haly, and Galyen,

Serapion, Razis, and Avycen,

Averrois, Damascien, and Constantyn,

Bernard, and Gatesden, and Gilbertyn. (#29-h3h)

All this scientific and semi-scientific lore was expected but not so
often attained by the physician of the Middle Ages. Medicine was
hardly the scientific pursuit it is today, and the heavy stress placed
on the Physician's knowledge and abilities tends to idealize the
figure.

Chaucer does not allow this character to become a perfect exemplar
of his calling, however. His opening, ambiguous lines can be inter-
preted as indifferent praise or snide satire:

In al this world us was ther noon hym lik,

To spake of phisik and of surgerye,

For he was grounded in astronomye. (hIZ-hth)

Astronomy or astrology was regarded as one of the fields of knowledge
vital to the medieval physician, but it also came under fire as one of
the many ways a physician could set himself up as an all-knowing
authority to cheat his patients. Muriel Bowden writes of Petrarch's
remarks on the subject:

Petrarch cautions against the audacity and pomp of physicians;

he says they neglect medicine proper in their pursuit of
dialectic, astrology, and irrelevant reading, and that many

6h

seek out the sick only for sinful gain or the wicked further-

ing of mere experimentation. "Remember therefore, most

gracious Father," Petrarch writes in a letter to the Pope,

"the epitaph of that unhappy man who ordered nothing to be

inscribed upon his tomb but 'I died from a mob of physicians,‘

and let the memory turn your attention on that mob which

like an enemy's host now surround you."
Chaucer inserts from time to time remarks on the Physician's talents
which we may take ironically. "He was a verray, parfit praktisour"
echoes the praise of the Knight-"he was a verray, parfit gentil
Knyght," but the line is followed by a detailing of the Physician's
deals with the apothecaries:

Ful redy hadde he his apothecaries

To sende hym drogges and his letuaries,

For ech of hym made oother for to wynne-

Hir frendshipe use not news to bigynne. (has-#28)
Such understandings were apparently widespread, and find their way
into literature in Gower's pm 5}; 23m.”

The satiric tone becomes even more explicit as Chaucer describes
the Physician's "studie," elegant dress, and love of gold:

His studie was but litel on the Bible.

In sangwyn and in pore he clad was al,

Lyned with taffata and with sandal;

And.yet he was but esy of dispence;

He kepte that he wan in pestilence.

For gold in phisik is a cordial,

Therfore he loved gold in special. (438-tku)
Irreligion and avarice are viewed almost as occupational diseases of
the physician in the Middle Ages. Most medical texts originated in
heathen lands and consisted in part of pagan charms, lightly
Christianimed in translation. The Hoslems came closest of any culture
to a science of medicine, hence the physician becomes guilty by
association. Love of money is often denounced by the clergy of the
time. Owst writes of

. . . John of Mirfield's careful warnings that the physician

65

should not have secret conversation with any woman of the
house, save where essential for the patient's treatment,
neither talking improperly, nor throwing rash glances in

their direction, "especially in the patient's presence", and
the like . . . "Nor let him sow discord amongst the patient's
domestics," he goes on, "nor offer advice unsought, nor brawl
with those of the house, nor commit any other improper acts or
anything that could reasonably displease folk. For all these
things destroy a good opinion, and give the physician an evil
name.” "For lay-folk", adds the homilist very significantly,
"are always wont to speak ill of physicians." Alluding once
sore, this time in real satiric vein, to the doctors of his
own day (pggggniflgggigi), he specifies as their three most
coveted qualifications-"subtle lying, dishonourable procedure,
and a boldness in killing". Rarely is a doctor a good Christian,
he says. ”Their deeds prove them to be disciples, not of
Christ, but of Avicenna and Galen." And therewith he reminds
them that if the patient is ahBoor man, it is their Christian
duty to cure him for nothing.

Here we find all of Chaucer's allegations plus many more of which the
poet did not avail himself. He could certainly have made his satire
more bitter than he chose. Other diatribes against physicians may be
found in Langlandk1 and Jean de Heun.#2

The Physician emerges as a bitter-sweet, ambiguous figure. He
may be talented, but he shares the foibles of his breed. As a
personage he exists only in terms of his occupation. His character is
developed through satiric commonplaces, but is nonetheless vivid.
Chaucer snowballs the reader with a mass of medical terminology,
creating the impression that much vital information has been conveyed.
Actually the medical details convey considerably less information about
the character than do the off—hand allusions to satiric convention.
Once again we find that convention plays an important role in por-
traying character.

we have examined a group of pilgrims-Merchant, Clerk, Man of

Law, Franklin, Guildsmen, Cook, Shipman, and Physician-ehom Chaucer

has characterized predominantly by what they do. The Franklin is an.

66

exception to this, since he represents the embodiment of a lifestyle
rather than an occupation. The Clerk is also atypical of the group
since, as an ideal figure, he shares few human qualities with the others.
Characterization of these pilgrims depends on a combination of occu-
rational talents, some personal description, and occasional references
to conventions, usually satiric, which to some extent portray the
personage's attitudes. None of these figures strikes the reader as
being so highly mimetic as the religious figures discussed above,
partly, of course, because their portraits are considerably shorter.
Like the highly mimetic figures this business group is portrayed in
terms of earthly, transitory concerns. Similarly, conventional
material is used for both groups to indicate typical attitudes and
actions. But the bourgeois characters remain less lifelike than their
religious counterparts. Chaucer has concentrated more on occupation
and function than on attitude; we see each figure only in a limited
way; what little attention is devoted to attitude is more allusive,
less explicit than that in the religious portraits. The illusion of
lifelikeness is not so strong for these figures as it is for the
Prioress, Monk, and Friar, in spite of the fact that the methods of
portrayal are similar. Without specific knowledge of attitudes, the
reader remains cut off from the secret hearts of the group, from the
wellsprings of motivation which he sees in the group of religious;
hence he tends to see them as types.

The Iife of Bath has received more critical attention than any
other figure on the Canterbury pilgrimage: she is the dominating
character of the £gptgzhp;y,25lgg, and her wondrous personality,

revealed in the prologue to her tale, is here only glimpsed.

67

The General Prologue portrait does not rely on the antifeminist
devices which are so abundant in Alison's monologue. Indeed, if we
force ourselves to read it in isolation from the monologue (a difficult
thing to do), we see that it is not much different from many other
portraits. ”an. catalogue technique, evident in the Physician's portrait,
the sly humor and ironic Juxtaposition of details, used to picture the
Prioress and Monk, and the seemingly haphazard organisation all remain.

Ia first learn of Alison's deafness and occupation. ". . . She
was somdal deaf, and that was scathe," opens the portrait with a
tantalising detail which defies the explanations immediately sought by
the reader, until Alison herself, in her own good time, reveals the
cause. Her weaving, which surpasses that of‘Ypres and Ghent-no doubt
an ironic comment on Bath's notoriously second-rate goodsu3--establish-
as her position in society as a member of the bourgeoisie, and hints
at her independent character. Aspects of that character are immediate-
ly revealed as the narrator comments on her pride:

In al the parisshe wife no was ther noon

That to the offrynge bifora hire sholde goon;

And if ther dide, certeyn so wrooth was she,

That she was out of alle charitee. (M9452)
we are here obviously dealing with a detail from convention. The
extreme pride which madievals associated with socially-determined place
in the offertory and other processions was often the subject of
lamentations by satirists and clergy. Chaucer's Parson, who follows
Alison in the Canterbury portrait gallery, will later tell us:

And yet is ther a privee space of Pride, that waiteth first

to be salewad er he wole salewe, al be he lasse worth than

that oother is, peravanture; and ask he waiteth or dasireth

to sitte, or elles to goon above hym in the way, or kisse

pax, or been assessed, or goon to offryng biforn his
neighabor, / and swicha semblable thynges, agayns his duetee,

68

paraventure, but that he hath his herta and his entente in

swich a proud desir to be magnified and honoured biforn the

POPICa (Xe 11.06-11.07)
Indeed we have already encountered this precedence-consciousness in
the wives of the Guildsmen, and will see it again in the Raeve's Tale.
Such company does not reflect well on Alison, but does place her
socially and morally.

Chaucer returns to personal description, qualifying each item
with a phrase which carries implicit commentary:

Hir coverchiafs ful fyne weren of ground;

I dorste swore they weyeden ten pound

That on a Sunday weren upon hir heed.

Hir hosen weren of fyn scarlet reed,

Pul streite yteyd, and shoes ful moyste and news.

Boold was hir face, and fair, and read of hawe. (k53-h58)
The picture is one of ostentation, and the narrator forastalls the
reader's anticipated suspicions of his veracity by assuring us, "I
dorste swere . . ." The emphasis on rich materials and "fyn scarlet
reed" also reinforces the picture of a proud, showy woman, and pro-
vides the first hints that Alison's sexual mores might well prove
scandalous. Chaucer proceeds at once to assure us, for the next line
reads, "She was a worthy womman al hir lyve," but that worthiness is
immediately defined in a non-religious moral system:

Housbondes at chirche dore she hadde fyve,

'ithouten oother compaignye in youthe,-

But tharof nadath mat to spoke as nowtha. (1.60-1.62)
One recalls that "worthiness" is a battlefield virtue of the Knight,
and Alison later reveals herself as a powerful warrior in the battle of
the sexes. The words "as nowthe” are yet another come-on; the reader
may find revealing information if he continues reading.

Chaucer returns to axternals, saying of Alison's travels:

And thrias hadde she been at Jerusalem;

69

She hadde passed many a straunge strem;

At Home she hadde been, and at Boloigne,

In Galice at Saint-Jame, and at Coloigne,

She koude muchel of wandrynge by the weye. (u63-h67)
Alison's trips to Jerusalem, Compostels, Boulogne, Rome, and Cologne
somewhat explain her presence in the Canterbury group, anchor her in
the real world, and in the phrase "wandrynge by the weye" hint again
at her Harcian-Venerian nature. While pilgrimages were not entirely
unusual for women in the fourteenth century, Alison's extensive
travels are: they serve to depict her as the bold woman she is and to
separate her ever so slightly from the conventional Duenna figure to
which she has some affinity in her monologue. The completeness of
her list, which includes every major pilgrimage and two minor ones,
contributes to the portrait through exaggeration, or, at least,
imprebability. The fact that we tend to believe that the life ha.
made these pilgrimages, while we don't believe that the Ship-an
knows gggpz_creek in Britain and Spain, is another indication of
realism in the life's portrayal. It is virtually the difference
between routine hyperbole and a fully realized descriptive attribute.
The exaggeration alone Justifies the double-mention of her experience
in strange lands, and coupled with the habitual dangers of travel,
further reinforces the boldness which forms so great a part of her
character. le will recall the many prohibitions against pilgrimages
by nuns, mentioned in conjunction with the Prioress' portrait: the
dangers of pilgrimage were viewed by church authorities to be as much
spiritual as physical.

In keeping with hilhhaphasard organization, Chaucer returns for

one more look at Alison's appearance, closing with yet another

7O
tantalizing hint that there is much more to this personage than we
might think:

Gat-tothed was she, soothly for to eeye.

Upon an amblere esily she sat,

Iwympled wel, and on hir heed an hat

As brood as is a.bokeler or a targe:

A foot-mantel abouts hir hipes large,

And on hir feet a paire of spores sharpe.

In felaweahipe wel koude she laughe and carpe.

Of remedies of love she knew per chaunce,

For she koude of that art the olde daunce. (468-u76)

The gat teeth symbolically encapsulate the Wife, signifying, according
to various interpretations, love of travel, love of Venus' works, and
lechery, all suitable to Alison. Again a hyperbolic figure-her hat
"As breed as is a bokeler or a targe"--restresses her boldness. A
very descriptive, if unflattering, tone is introduced by the phrase
"the olde daunce." It is perhaps ironic that it is the "remedies of
love" which Alison knows. Alison would doubtless say that it is the
art of love of which she is master. When we view her in retrospect of
the narration of her marital experiences, we might well agree that
Alison herself is one of the remedies!

The life's vivacity has never really been questioned, although the
attitudes toward it which the reader is supposed_te take have long been
disputed. The long continuance of these arguments is itself evidence
of Chaucer's creation of a figure which, such like a rail hulan 5.135,
cannot be easily explained. The mimetic qualities which comprise this
character are rooted in Chaucer's descriptive technique. Stock
characteristics are borrowed from iconography and moral exemplum--
the red hose, the peacock pride in church-and qualified by personal
details-deafness, the ten-pound headdress, her five husbands. All

are Juxtaposed in a seemingly haphazard manner so that they comment

71
ironically or humorously upon one another and give the impression that
the poet is making his observations from real life, not from catalogues
in books. This interplay of details, in which one qualifies, or con-
tradicts, or undercuts another, bulks large, as we have seen, in
Chaucer's realistic technique. The whole is never merely the sum of
the parts, but that sum qualified and enhanced by the descriptive
pattern. The elements of the Wife's description are more varied and
less governed by a single type of detail than the portraits of the
Physician, Man of Law, Shipman, or Franklin. Alison's portrait is
comprised of a balance and interrelation of physical appearance, past
experiences, and tell-tale comments on her personality and values.
Chaucer has included details, seemingly unimportant to the General
Prologue, which will be fully developed in the course of the pilgrimage.
The portrait is extremely economical: there are no empty lines injected
for the sake of rhyme; every detail is eventually incorporated into
Alison's personality. Though the portrait is only of middling length,
it presents the personage more completely than any other sketch
except those much longer portraits of the religious figures. Alison
is a mimetic figure, but she embodies a combination of the real and
unreal-a characterization based on carefully selected and sometimes
exaggerated bits of life which the catalyst of Chaucer's art makes to
seem real.

As with the other highly mimetic figures pictured thus far,
assessing the precise position of Alison on the spectrum of characteri-
sation is extremely difficult, involving the tensions between indivi-
dual and type that we found in the sketches of Prioress, Monk, and

Friar. In the General Prologue Alison is pictured with considerably

72
less satiric detail than the others. We might expect this to make
her more mimetic than the other figures, but such is not the case.
Alison becomes more and more lifelike as we observe her more and more
in the context of antifeminist satire. We are faced with a knotty
medieval tendency, completely counter to accepted modern criticism and
logic, which portrays a character's ethoe through conventional material.
This tendency, one suspects, is profoundly rooted in the habitual
medieval way of viewing society and the individual. Yet another
problem emerges when we observe that it is variation on convention
which makes a character especially "lifelike." Alison is pictured
through a multitude of details. The fact that they are more varied
than those picturing the Physician or Franklin definitely makes her
more vivid than those pilgrims. But her personal attitudes are here
only briefly mentioned, and in this respect her mimetic qualities lag
behind those so elaborately expressed for the religious figures. Like
them, she rates far to the realistic-imperfect end of Dvorak's
spectrum. Pictured entirely in terms of the transitory and in terms
of those things important to her, she has nothing in common with the
idealized figures except that both types must, within reason, he
expressed in concrete detail. The extensiveness of their pertr§1ts
supplies greater realism to the Friar, Honk,vand Prioress.

The two brothers among the pilgrims, Person and Plowman, are the
most highly idealized, and hence least individual, of any of the
characters of thquggtgzppgzugglgg. The Parson's is the second
longest of the portraits with fifty-one lines; it is curious to note
that the Plowman's is the second shortest, yet both portraits are

equally idealized and vague. The only descriptive detail in the

73
Parson's portrait is the picture of the priest, staff in hand, visiting
parishioners in "rays" and "thonder." He does_not so much as receive
a geographical.location:

A good man was ther of religioun,
And was-a povre persoun of a toun. (#77-h78)

The unnamed town immediately idealises the figure; he could live
anyplace, but the lack of locale sets his perfection apart, in a
sort of Platonic heaven of the Ideal. we do not find perfect persons
in every town. Fully a fifth of the lines are broad laudatory state-
ments which serve to generalize rather than individualize the Parson.
Detail is extremely vague: "Riche he was of hooly thoght and work";
"A bettre preeet I trowe that nowher noon ys." The remainder of the
portrait consists of rhetorical statements concerning acknowledged
faults of the clergy to which the Person is not prey-

He sette set his benefice to hyre

And leet his sheep encombred in the myre

And ran to Londoun unto Seinte Poules

To seken hym a chaunterie for soules (507-510)
and of small metaphorical images concerning the priest as good shepherd:

He dwelte at hoom, and kepte wel his folde,
So that the wolf me made it met myscarie. (511-512)

Other examples portray his sermons, beliefs, and attitudes towards
wanderers from the fold. None portrays the Person however; they depict
priestliness, or, more specifically, a pastoral (in its ancient figu-
rative sense) state. The Parson, in keeping with his thematic role

of shepherd on the path to the Heavenly Jerusalem, is the least earthly
and least "human" of the pilgrims:

lel oghte a preest enaample for to give,
By his clennesse, how that his sheep sholde lyve. (505-506)

He is a humble Melchisedek, more symbol than personage. This perfect

7h

man is portrayed in a radically different way from the less spiritual
Pilsrims. Dvorak writes that even perfect figures must have "what is
intrinsic to their physical nature." The Parson, having no real
"physical nature," possesses none of the transient, physical character-
istics or foibles shared by the others. He has no location in the
actual world, no physical peculiarities, and not even his horse merits
description. He is described in terms of negative conventions, in
the manner that some mystics described God. The positive qualities
which he possesses are those of the Good Shepherd-of Christ-and,
like Christ, he is on earth only for a while: he is not of the earth.

The Plowman is equally faceless. Composed of precepts, he has
only his work to distinguish him: "He had ylad of dong ful many a
fother" (530). He loves God with his whole heart and his neighbor as
himself: he works for Christ's sake and pays his tithes; he wears a
tabard and rides a mare, these last the only details added by Chaucer
to give his portrait some verisimilitude. Perhaps if the Plowman had
been given further attention in the completed.Qgptggpp;z_gglgg he
would have emerged as a character something like Langland's Piers.
Indeed, he and his brother remind us momentarily of the concepts of
Dowell and Dobet. The overall conception is similar, but Piers has
a dramatic context in which to express himself:

'I wil worschip ther-with treuthe by my lyve,

And ben his pilgryme atte plow for pore menses sake.

My plowhfote shal be my pyk-staf and peoche atwo the fotes,

And helps my culter to horns and clause the forwes.‘

Now is perkyn and his pilgrymes to the plows faren,
To erie this halve acre holpyn hym manye.uz
Dikeres & delueres digged vp the balkes.

Similarly the-Plowman:

75

He wolde thresshe, and therto dyke and delve,
For Cristes asks, for every povre wight. (536-537)

Coulton has stated, "In all medieval literature the peasant is very
seldom noticed, and,even then, the notice is almost universally
soornful.“5 Langland and Chaucer are exceptions to this trend.
Chaucer's Plowman, like the bourgeoisie, is pictured in terms of his
calling, but unlike the business-oriented portraits, the moral light
on the picture is ideal, not satiric. Like the Parson, the Plowman
is pictured in terms of perfection. He does possess characteristics
which link.him to life on this earth-the references to dung, his dress,
and mount. But those references at no point link him with the other
ilperfections which plague the earthly. Like the Person, the Plowman
occupies a place far at the idealized, perfect, and un-lilelike end
of the mimetic spectrum.

The Miller's portrait is in striking contrast to the two which
precede it. With twenty-one lines it is among the shorter portraits,
but it contains the highest number of personal descriptive details of
all the sketches in the General Prologue. The picture is strikingly
vivid and compact. Chaucer returns to his haphazard ordering of
details in which blocks of physical description are interspersed with
activities which reflect on physical make-up; this is followed by
comments on character and concluded by his clothing and more activities.
The total effect is that of an alternation of physical description and
comments on character which defies logic but has pronounced artistic
effect:

The Millers was a stout carl for the nones;

Pul byg of brawn, and eek of bones.

That proved wel, for over al ther he cam,
At wrastlynge he wolde have alwey the ram.

76

He was short-sholdred, breed, a thikke knarre;
Ther was no dore that he nolde have of harre,
Or broke it at a rennyng with his head.

His berd as any sows or fox was reed,

And therto breed, as though it were a spade.
Upon the cop right of his nose he hade

A werte, and theron stood a toft of herys,
Reed as the brustles of a sowes erys;

His nosethirles blake were and wyde.

A sword and bokeler bar he by his syde.

His mouth as greet was as a great forneys.

He was a janglere and a goliardeys,

And that was moost of synne and harlotries.
'el koude he stolen corn and tollen thries:
And.yet he hadde a thombe of gold, pardee.

A whit cote and a blew hood wered he.

A baggepipe wel koude he blowe and sowne,

And therwithal he broughte us out of towns. (5‘15'566)

The figure characterized is more than anything else a grotesque.
Chaucer chooses to emphasize the ugly, coarse, and gross, and selects
his images from the barnyard and the workshop: the beard is red as any
sow end bread as a spade; the heirs of the wart are red as the bristles
of a sow's ear: the nostrils are black and wide; the mouth is like a
furnace. Chaucer dwells on this ugly hyperbole until it takes on
elements of humor; repeated stress of the grotesquerie of the Miller's
appearance disposes the reader to see his personality as equally
grotesque. His character is indeed like his appearance: he‘is a
thief, a jangler who talks only of sin and harlotry. Many details of
his appearance symbolically support the few lines in which the narrator
makes direct statements about the Miller's morals. Physiognomically the
Miller's appearance indicates shamelessness, immodesty, loquacity,
boldness, quick temper, treacherousness, and lust.“6
Millers were notorious for little work and high fees. The miller,

writes Rogers, is "the opulent villager, who is keen after his gains,

and not over honest in the collection of them."“7 Langland attacks

7?
millers as well as reeves in 213;;[2121333 as thieves and ignorant
rascals (C. III. 112-113; B. X. 38ft.). As a caricature the miller
appears in French fabliaux, the Reeve's Tale, Langland, and other
denunciations of the rascally peasant. Chaucer goes out of his way
to make the caricature grotesque. His description dwells on the
sort of vivid things we expect from a brawny rascal: "At wrastlynge
he wolde have alwey the ram": "Ther was no dore that he nolde have of
harre, / Or brake it at a rennyng with his heed." The characterization
consists of selected exaggerations. We can believe in the Miller,
not so much because we see him as plausible as because we see him
vividly. The limitations of the plausibility go unnoticed, over-
shadowed by the vivid grotesquerie.

The Manciple is an extremely vague figure in the Canterbury group,
although for different reasons than the lack of personality we have
seen in some of the other bourgeois figures. Of the Manciple we
learn only that he works for "me than thries ten" learned men in "a
temple." There is no other detail given concerning his appearance, his
horse, or his occupational duties. But fully one half of the twenty
line description is devoted to the honor and worth of the Manciple'e
employers, "That weren of lawe expert and curious,“ and the irony

That swich a lowed mannes wit shall pace
The wisdom of an heep of lerned men. (57h-575)

The naive narrator implies his wonder and admiration of that fact.
It is not the Hanciple who is real in this portrait, but rather a
common condition of life-cleverness can outsmart or outperform the
wisdom of the learned. The narrator again offers his tacit approval
of this state of affairs: "This Hanciple sette hir aller cappe."

The Manciple is merely an embodiment of craftiness in a "lewed

78

man," another variant on the type of the crafty peasant. The
portrait's realism is that of situation, not personality. The
Hanciple does appear later in the zglgg when he reproves the drunken
Cook and then makes his peace with him, but even that incident serves
more to illustrate his cleverness than to portray a many-sided per-
sonality. The Hanciple's portrait lacks even those things intrinsic
to hunan nature which mm: finds even in idealized figures. He is
not a personage; he is a state of being. The situation may indeed be
realistic: the character is not.

The Reeve's portrait balances that of the Miller. Choleric and
crafty, his personality traits are also illustrated physiognomically:

The Reva was a sclendre colerik man.

His berd was shave as my as ever he kan:

His hear was by his erys ful round yshorn;
His top was dokked lyk a preset biforn.

Pul longe were his legges and ful lens,

Ylyk a staf, ther was no calf ysene. (587-592)

Curry remarks that the traits indicated by this appearance include sharp
#8

wit, prudence, lust, intemperance, and a long memory. Chaucer devotes

many lines to Oswald's duties as reeve:

wel koude he kepe a garner and a bynne:

Ther was noon auditour koude on him wynne.

wel wiste he by the droughts and by the rays
The yeldynge of his seed and of his greyn.

His lordes sheep, his meet, his dayerye,

His swyn, his here, his steer, and his pultrye
lhs hooly in this Raves governynge,

And by his covenant yaf the rekenynge,

Syn that his lord was twenty year of age.

Ther koude no man brynge hym in arrerage.

Ther nas baillif, ne hierde, nor oother hyne,
That he no knew’his sleighte and his covyne;
They were adrad of hym as of the death. (593-605)

Chaucer returns to the use of occupational diction and the catalogue

of terms unused since the Physician‘s portrait. The listing ef

79
seed, grain, sheep, neet, dairy, swine, horse, stock, and poultry
establishes the‘Reeve's total control of his master's estate, as does
the remark that he knew everyone's faults. The Reeve's own sleight-
of-hand operations are hinted in the lines: .

His lord wel koude he plesen subtilly,

To yeve and lens hym of his owene good,

And have a thank, and yet a cote and hood. (610-12)

Reeves had a reputation in medieval England much like that of
millers. Both belong to a larger type of the crafty vassal. Oswald's
Portrait is a subdivision of craft, however. Robin's evil, like that
of the miller in the Reeve's Tale, is evident to all; Oswald depends
on deceit. Chaucer does not stress the grotesque quite so much as in
the Miller's portrait: the similes employed-"dokked lyk a preset
biforn," “legges . . . ylyk a staf," "adrad . . e as of the death,"
"tukked as is a frere"-are spare, dark, almost ascetic when compared
to those in the Miller's portrait, which are dominated by the furnace
and the sow. The Reeve's images, for the most part religious ones,
are unsuited to the crafty servant, but their use in his description
evokes images of the wolf in lamb's clothing. The actions of the
Reeve also depend upon pretense; as a reeve he keeps a model farm but
"lends" to his master from his master's goods. we later see that he is
a.choleric man under a melancholy covering. The type of the crafty
servant is rarely portrayed with so much subtlety. The Miller is a
more typical representative; his bluster and cheating are no secret, and
his noisy volubility more in keeping with the type than the apparent
taciturnity of the Reeve.

vChaucer closes the portrait in his typical manner. He relates

numerous unrelated details which combine to leave a vivid impression.

80
We learn that the Reeve is also a carpenter, his horse is named
Scot, he comes from‘Norfolk, and

Tukked he was as is a frere aboute,
And evere he rood the hyndrest of ours route. (621-622)

The carpentry is gratuitous at the moment, but assumes importance when

the Miller and Reeve begin to spar; Oswald's Norfolk origins are

later mimetically supported by his speech. The final two lines briefly
but vividly picture the ascetic appearance of the melancholy, choleric

man who almost slinks along after the pilgrims.

The Reeve's portrait is slightly longer than average, and con-
tains a high proportion of details of both personal and functional
description. Organized on the occupational principles of the Physician's
and Men of Law's portraits, it departs from them to add elements
indicative of disposition which contribute greater depth and consider-
ably more realism to the usual occupational portrait. All three of
this series of portraits-Miller, Manciple, Reeve-are in many ways
variants on the type of the crafty peasant, and are arranged roughly
in ascending order of financial success.

The Summoner and his friend the Pardoner join the Miller as the
grotesques of the Canterbury pilgrisage. But whereas the Miller is
portrayed with tolerant humor, these figures of the ecclesiastical
fringe are pictured with considerable satire. Summoners, also known
as apparitors, occupy a curious place in the social and literary
history of the time. They rarely appear in literature, but when they
do, they are always, without exception, the object of satire which
ranges from moderate to vehement. As a historical figure, however,
the summoner rarely appears, and there is little evidence that the

occupation had descended to quite the depths of corruption indicated

81
by literary portrayals.

Louis A. Easelmayer has surveyed the documentary and literary
evidence for information on the activities of summoners in England.“9
The position grew out of the Roman Judicial system in the early years
of the church, but does not appear in English records until 1237. The
office seems to have become fairly common by the late thirteenth
century, although Haselmayer has found exceedingly few references to
it in diocesan records. Fourteenth century records, while much more
numerous, reveal little:

An examination of episcopal records of the fourteenth-

century English dioceses reveals documents on the apparitor

which are curiously scattered and lacking in uniformity. The

function was not one which appeared in the ordinary memoranda

of consistory courts. The citations were addressed by the bishop

to the rural deans, rectors, and archdeacons. Host of the

apparitors were attached to the archidiaconal courts, the
documents of which are either not available or no longer

extant. Thus we are unable really to find traces of the

daily activity of the apparitor, except in episcopal notices

which are one degree removed from the actual routine. As a

result, in some dioceses no records appear, and in others long

periods of years might elapse without any mention of the

officer. We cannot necessarily assume that he did not exist,

but more}! accept the probability that our documents did not

_n°t. its
The sumaener's most important duty was the serving of the write, or
summons, of the consistory courts; in at least some places he was
also responsible for seeing that the person actually appeared in court.
As a minor officer of the courts the summoner frequently searched out
intestate estates and performed duties concerning the probation of
wills. It is not until late in the fourteenth century that the
summoner seems to have gained a free hand in the issuing of citations;
at that time he became not so much an emisary of the court as a

criminal investigator on the look-out for criminal offenses. In the

82

courtroom the summoner served as a sort of bailiff or marshall. He
was appointed by the bishop and.might be either the apparitor general-
the bishop's prime summoner with Jurisdiction throughout the diocese-
or the apparitor of an archdeaconry. Appointments were made indefinite-
ly, sometimes for life, sometimes "at the bishop's pleasure," some-
times for the life of the bishop. Compensation appears to have come
most often from the fines leveled by the ecclesiastical court; the
summoner got a percentage of the take. He was usually not in orders,
and apparently not always literate, for several records specify that
the apointee is either "clerk,” or "literate.“51

Hasslmayer says that "Specific examples of corrupt apparitors are

"52 but does find two instances of the murder of summoners

not frequent,
by groups of criminals and several cases of extortion. He finds only
one recorded incident of false accusation of crime, which was by a
pretender to the job and involved three vicars and several other men

"53 More bothersome, to Judge

and woman accused of "grave fornication.
by the number of times the abuse is mentioned, is the habit of the
archdeacen's apparitors to wander from their appointed Jurisdictions.
Finally they were forbidden horses, but the prohibition was repeated
'many times. Summoners also made a practice of collecting gifts from
the various people attending the courts, as protection against the
archdeacon's "curse." In 1378 we find a parliamentary plea which
indicates a "large and troublesome group of men who took advantage of
the peculiar situation of their office to prey upon the people, collect
money and other gifts":

Et auxint les dits Somnours fecent leur seasons as diverses

gents par malice, come ils sent on slants a leur charueta en
les champes, et aillours, & les surmettont diverses crimes

83

torcenouses, & la facent les povres gents de faire fin,
qu'ils appellont Th2 Bischopg Almgis; ou autrement 1e dit
Somnour les face common de XX ou x1 leukes de la, einz &
aucun foits en deux leiux a un Jour, a grant desease,
empovreisment, a oppression des ditz povres Comunes. Dent
Vous plese censiderer le grant meschiegh & ent ordoner due
remedie, Dieu, & en oevre de charitee.

O O O O O O O O O O O O 0
And also the said Summoners make their summons to diverse
people for malice when they are going in their carts to the
fields and elsewhere, and these extortioners impute crimes
to the poor, centriving that the poor shall pay a fine which
is called the Bigchopg alggig; or else the said summoners
demand that the people appear for trial twenty or more leagues
from their homes, sometimes to two places on one day, to the
great dis-ease, impoverishment, and oppression of the said
poor Commons. It is bgsged that Parliament consider these
great harms etc., etc.

Heselmayer wisely observes that the records of abuses like the above
are so scant as to warrant our not taking them as typical. EVidence
also exists that the position was at times not only respectable, but
desirable. It has certainly been the summoners' fate, like the friars',
to have been considered more in terms of the satires which have been
written about them than in the light of historical objectivity, which
certainly admits many abuses but does not condemn all.

Ihen Chaucer's Friar Huberd says, "Pardee, ye may wel knowe by
the name / That of a somonour may no good be sayd," he is accurately
reflecting the literary state of affairs. While summoners appear but
seldom--being minor officials they are subject to the archdeacons who
were the targets of considerably more satireo-the references are never
kindly. Langland mentions summoners three times in £33;gfl2lggngg.56
summoners are present among the rogues at Keed's wedding; they praise
' her; they love lechery. The anonymous £32911! 19.11 includes the
summoner in a list of robbers: "Also somnours & bedels, that dwellyn

in offyce vnder hes, spare no conscyens to take what thei may getyn."5?

84
The "Satyre on the Consistory Courts" also pictures the summoners:

Yet ther sitteth somenours ayexe other sevens,
Hys motinde men alle by here evens,
And rocketh forth heore rolls:
Byrd-men hem hatieth, ant uch mones hyne
For everuch a parosshe heo polkethsgn pyne,
And clastreth with heore colle.

Lastly the play "The Trial of Joseph and Mary" of the Lugug Covgntgiae
also satirizes the summoner who, in the role of Prologue, says:

A. serys god save you all

here is a fayr pepyl in good ffay

Good serys tells me what men me calls

I trowe ye kan not be this day

Yitt I walks wyde and many way

but yet ther I come I do no good

to reyse slawnyr is sl my lay
bakbytsre is my brother of blood.

Dede he ought come hedyr in al this day
new wolde god that he were here

and be my trewth I dar wel say

that yf we tweyn to-gedyr a-pere

More slawmdyr we to xal s-rere

with-in and howre throwe-outh this town
than evyr ther was this thousand yere 59
and ellys I shrewe you bothe up and down.

Such are the literary references to summoners, and against this
background we must view Chaucer's portrait. Chaucer's Summoner is
considerably more individualized, but is without doubt in the tradition
which can say nothing good about the summoner. He is one of the few
Pilgrims whom the narrator seems to dislike. Chaucer first sketches the
grotesque appearance of the man in terms which physiognomically reveal
much about his personality:

A Semonour was ther with us in that place,
That hadde a fyr-reed cherubynnes face,

For ssucefleem he was, with eyen narwe.

As hoot he was and lecherous as a sparwe,
lith scalled browse blake and piled berd.
Of his visage children were sferd.

Ther nss quykpsilver, lytarge, ne brymstoon,
Borss, ceruce, ne oille of tartre noon;

Ne oynement that wolde clause and byte,

85

That hym myghte helpen of his whelkes white,
Nor of the knobbed sittynge on his chekes. (623-633)

Chaucer opens the description with a reference calculated to recall to
the reader the context of the portrait: we are "in that place," the
Tabard In. While the phrase is without doubt a line-filler, it also
serves to verify the actuality of the grotesquerie which follows it.

The Summoner's diseased skin, so vividly portrayed, is an
accurate description of ggtta rgsagea which has developed into a kind
of "leprosy" known as algpigia. It should be noted that the word "leprosy"
was used very loosely in the Middle Ages to refer to almost any type of
skin disease. 'Curry defines gutta rgsacea using a sixteenth-century
description:

thts £93323; be the Latin wordes. In Englyshe it is named

sauce fleume face, which is a rednes about the nose and shakes,

with small pymples: it is a prevye signs of leprousnes.
Arnoldus de Villa Nova describes slopicia as follows:

Alopicis is a species of leprosy which is produced g;,§§pgging

adjugto. This type is marked by a complete depilation of the

eyebrows and heard. The eyes of the patient become inflated

(inglantgg) and exceedingly red. Pimples of a reddish colour

appear in the face and even on the whole body, from which runs

corruption mixed with blood. . .

The causes were said to be "'flesshlye lyking' by a contaminated woman-
'and sometimes it commeth of too hot meates, as long use of strong
pepper, and of garlike, and of such other . . . and of uncleane wine and

corrupt.”62

The compounds recommended for use on the face are exactly
those which Chaucer says have not helped cleanse the Summoner.

Like the Miller, the Summoner is described in images of great
ugliness: fyr-reed cherubynnes face, ssucefleem, eyen narwe, lecherous as

I sparwe, scalled browes blake, piled berd, whelkes white, knobbes

Oittynge on his chokes. The fact that he scares children makes his

86

Particularly repugnant, as does the mention of his lecherousness. The
"fyr-reed cherubynnes face" is a choice term of ironic-grotesquerie:
the red face in itself would be nothing grotesque; in fact the mention
of cherubim conveys another connotation entirely. But the following
line, "For ssucefleem he was . . .” defines the nature of the redness,
completely negating the image of any heavenly fire and replacing it
with the fire of the devil. The list of remedies which do not help
likewise stresses the extreme state to which the disease has progressed;
qwk-silver, lytsrge, brysstoon, horas, ceruce, oille of tartre, and
oynements all imply an atmosphere of medical certainty and hopelessness.

Chaucer follows the semi-medical description of the Summoner with
remarks on his tastes:

Isl loved he garlsek, oynone, and eek lakes,

And for to drynken strong wyn, reed as blood;

Thanne wolde he spoke and crie as he were wood.

And when that he wel dronken hadde the wyn,

Thanne wolde he spoke no word but Latyn.

A fewe termes hadde he, two or thre,

That he had lerned out of son decree-

No wonder is, he herds it al the day;

And eek ye knowen wel how that s jay

Kan clepen "Watts" as wel as kan the pope.

But whose koude in oother thyng hym grope,
Thanne hadde he spent al his philosophic:

Ay "m mg 1331‘" wolde he crie. (634.5106)
The lines on garlic, onions, leaks, and wine would seem to be a return to

the uhaphazard" technique, did we not know that such tastes were medical-
ly connected with the Summoner's disease. The grotesque mode is main-
tained by these details, incongruous after the lines on medications,
"whelkes," and "knobbes sittynge on his chokes." "lyn, reed as blood"

is likewise grotesque in the context and serves as a bridge to the

next subject, the Summoner's learning, or pretense to learning. We

have seen that not all summoners were literate, hence the lines on

87

the Summoner's "philosophic" and the narrator's scorn of it. "Thanne
wolde he spoke and crie as he were wood," says the narrator, explaining
that what he speaks is "no word but Latyn." He pulls the rug from
beneath the Summoner in a superb satiric deflation by adding, "A fewe
termes hadde be, two or thre." He learned them from "sea decree," the
inconsequential word "son" expressing infinite scorn which is amplified
by the explanatory, almost apologetic, "no wonder is, he herds it al the
day." Chaucer is careful to make sure that we do not attribute to the
Summoner the cleverness which his narrator so admires in the Manciple:

Now is net that of God a ful fair grace

That swich s lowed mannes wit shal pace

The wisdom of an hesp of lerned men? (573-575)

He proceeds to further deflate the Summoner's pretensions by
taking the reader into his confidence: "And eek.ye knowen wel how that
a day / Kan clepen "latte" as wel as has the pope.” In "eek ye knowen"
the narrator allies the reader with his own position, although there is
hardly any question of the need to convince the reader. The Summoner is
degraded to the intelligence of a Jay and his Latin is worth all of the
Jay's cry, "latte.“ _Horeover, Chaucer does not hesitate to let his
satire spill over on ecclesiastical authority in general: the pope can do
as well. He clinches the argument with a sample of the Summoner's
philosophy, "Questio quid iuris?" In the context, the line is completely
meaningless, and the Summoner is obviously, at this point, a complete
fool. Chaucer's satire has destroyed his completely. Yet the ggnp‘gg
gags; is not yet administered. The narrator adds, magnanimously and
ironically, "He was s gentil harlot and s kynde: / A bettre felswe
sholde man noght fynde” (6k8-6h9).

Chaucer has thus far condemned the Summoner on intellectual

88

grounds; he proceeds to expose his morally, in the process proving
that the outward appearance does indeed portray the inner man. Men
in the Summoner's Jurisdiction can always buy their ways out of the
archdeacon's curse: besides, the Summoner keeps a concubine himself.
Chaucer does not permit the narrator's tacit approval of the Summoner's
methods as he has done for so many other questionable pilgrims, however;
even the innocent narrator is not fooled. Chaucer leaves the Summoner's
words in the Summoner's mouth, offering his own comments on them:

And if he foond owner a good felawe,

He wolde techen him to have noon awe

In swich case of the ercedekenes curs,

But if a mannes souls were in his pure;

For in his pure he sholde ypunysshed be.

"Pure is the ercedekenes hells," seyde be.

But wel I woot he lyed right in dede:

Of curayng oghte sch gilty man his drede,

For curs wel also right as assoillyng savith,

And also war hym of s mm. (653-662)
These lines on cursing and absolving have been problematic, their diffi-
culty arising from Chaucer's levels of irony. Chaucer first sets forth
the Summoner's view: no one need fear for his soul's damnation through
the archdeacon's curse; if he has money he shall not be damned, unless
his soul lies in his purse. "But wel I woot he lyed right in dede,"
the narrator comments earnestly. "0f curayng oghte sch gilty man his
drede, / For curs wol ales right as sssoillyng savith." These lines
were surely written in the cast of mind.which controls Dante's 2111;;
m. In the m and the W we find that souls who have
been given absolutien, but have never really repented, are damned, and
others who have been excommunicated but have experienced a change of
heart at the last moment, are saved. It is not the archdeacon's curse

that slaysg it is the eternal curse which the sinner brings upon

himself through his refusal of grace. The §1ggi£1§gyig (the order

89
which remanded the excommunicate to prison) deprives man of the channels
of grace available through the church. The lines do not make Chaucer
a heretic; he does not question the authority of the church, but of the
church's corrupt members, the srchdeacon and summoner.

Chaucer does not dwell on theological speculation, however. He
adds one more condemnatory comment, seemingly haphazard in its tacked-on
position, but all the more striking in its penultimate placement in the
portrait:

In daunger hadde he at his owene gise

The yonge girles of the diocise,

And knew hir conseil, and was sl hir reed. (663-665)

As the counsellor of the young the Summoner becomes a still greater
menace. The narrator returns to happier description when he says,

A gerland hadde he set upon his heed

As greet as it were for an ale-stake.

A bokeleer hadde he masd hym of a cake. (667-669)

The comic-grotesque element enters once again to mellow the very bitter
tone of the maJor part of the sketch. The ugly Summoner becomes, through
his garland and cake, an incongruous figure. These items belie his inner
blackness somewhat by disguising it in part with the Joyouaness of the
April day. They also symbolize the ontology of the Summoner-illusion.
The entire portrait is a study of what the man is and what he appears to
be: a leprous harlot, he claims, for money, to save souls from the
archdeacon's curse: a stupid fellow, he pretends to great learning; a
diseased lecher, he wears the signs of spring.

The Summoner's portrait is without doubt one of the ugliest of the
General Prologue. Like the Friar, the narrator regards him with "louryng

cheers,“ and the portrait is considerably more vehement than the few

other appearances the summoner makes in literature. Langlsnd and the

90
anonymous playwright and poet attack avarice, extortion, and back-
biting. Chaucer attacks an individual first of all; the type is
indeed indicted, but the specific and grotesque details of the sketch
make the Summoner first a personage, secondly a representative of his
occupation. Chaucer has created a personality through satire. Each
satiric possibility has been followed to its logical end-a sort of
reductio 5g absurdgm which makes the Summoner a stupid but powerful
rascal who has absolutely nothing good about him. The Summoner, a man
of perverted morals and perverted calling, is pictured in the ugliest
possible way using the ugliest possible images. As a likely or even
possible member of a pilgrim band, this man is highly questionable.
Yet Chaucer has created an illusion of reality in the portrait. He
overcomes the reader's skepticism concerning the total evil of the
character by carefully balancing the ugly satire with the grotesque and
its accompanying humor. There is, after all, a fascinating quality in
the supremely ugly. The narrator, who at this point seems quite probably
identical with the poet, seasons his dislike of the Summoner with
grotesquerie which produces a personage at the same time hateful and
fascinating.

The satire of the Pardoner, "freend" and "compeer" of the Summoner,
is considerably milder than that we have Just observed. While the
Pardoner also partakes of the grotesquerie evidenced in the portrayals of
Summoner and Miller, that too is considerably lessened. The Pardoner's
activities are fully described in the Prologue to his tale, and the
General Prologue portrait only outlines the practices which are so fully
illustrated later. Since the full scope of the Pardoner's activities

does not emerge before we hear his monologue, a discussion of the actual

91
practices and abuses of the pardoners will be reserved until that
time. Like summoners, medieval pardoners maintained a low profile
in literature; our pictures of the typical pardoners come primarily
from the documents which attempted to regulate their abuses. Chaucer's
Pardoner is very much a type; the only basic variation is his blatant
use of false relics, a practice strictly prohibited by the church
authorities and one whose abuse in actual life was minimal, though
its literary appearances might not indicate that.

In the Pardoner's portrait Chaucer returns to a very extensive
use of the technique of haphazard organization. The grotesquerie which
we find in the sketch arises primarily from Juxtaposition of unrelated
details, rather than from images of revulsion, ugliness, or incongruity,
such as we observed in the portraits of Miller, Reeve, and Summoner.
Chaucer opens the description by linking the Pardoner with that die-
reputable character, the Summoner:

Iith hym ther rood a gentil Pardoner

Of Rouncivale, his freend and his compeer,

That straight was comen fro the court of Rome.

Ful loude he soong "Com hider, love to me!"

This Somonour bar to hym a stif burdoun;

Ias nevere trompe of half so greet a soun. (669-67h)

The linking of Pardoner and Summoner as friends immediately posts one
strike against the Pardoner; the linking of the Pardoner with
Rouncivale posts a second. Rouncivale refers to the hospital of the
Order of Roncesvalles established at Charing in 1229. The parent order
was that of St. Mary of Roncevall, Spain. The English hospital had

a history of receiving rich gifts and its affairs were bolstered just
before the beginning of the fourteenth century when a Brother Lupus

became preceptor of all the houses of the order in England and Ireland.

92
Brother Lupus was also a papal envoy and was licensed to sell indul-
gences:
. . . from his advent as leader of the Order in England until
well into the fifteenth century, the selling of indulgences
was the special interest of the alien St. Mary Roncevall:

Brother Lupus had all too successfully demonstrated that
. traffic in pardons was an exceedingly profitable business.

63
Scandals, particularly those arising from the business of pardons,
acquired such notoreity that in 1379 the Crown seized the buildings

and lands of the order and issued a writ calling for the arrest of any-
one collecting and misusing funds intended for the hospital. The lands
were later returned, but the scandals continued. Just the mention of
Rouncivale suffices to make the Pardoner suspect. The fact that he
"streight was comen fro the court of Rome" further undermines his
Position; Boniface II in a papal edict of 1390 complains that many
vagabonds pose as pardoners, always claiming to be sent from Rome.64
The phrase used, "streight was comen," is the sort of colloquial
expression we would expect from the Pardoner himself as he explains

his mission, showing his "bulles of popes and of cardynales, / Of
patriarkes and bishopes."

But Chaucer does not dwell on his occupation Just yet. He passes
to the relationship between Pardoner and Summoner. The repeated link!
ing of the two in three of the first four lines of the portrait suffices
to establish a shared grotesquerie and moral perversion. The Pardoner
sings ”ful loude," accompanied by the even louder voice of the Summoner.
The‘flgnhlg‘gnggnggg of "This Somonour bar to hym a stif burdoun" is
gradually developed in Chaucer's long, accelerating description of the
Pardoner, culminating in the line, "I trowe he were a geldyng or a

mare":

93

This Pardoner hadde heer am yelow as wex,

But smothe it heeng as death a strike of flex;

By ounces henge his lokkes that he hadde,

And therwith be his shuldres overspradde;

But thynne it lay, by colpons con and can.

But hood, for Jolitee, wered he noon,

For it was trussed up in his walet.

Bym thoughts he read al of the newe Jet;

Dischevelee, save his cappe, he rood al bare.

Swiche glarynge eyen hadde he as an hare.

d vernycle hadde he wowed upon his cappe.

His walet lay biforn hym in his lappe,

Bretful of pardoun, comen from Rome al hoot.

A voys he hadde as smal as hath a goot.

No berd hadde he, no nevere sholde have;

As smothe it was as it were late shave.

I trowe he were a geldyng or a mare. (675-691)
As before, Chaucer's physiognomy is trustworthy, for it indicates
precisely the kind of man we discover the Pardoner to be. The yellow,
thin, straight hair indicates impoverished blood, lack of virility,
effeminacy of mind, cunning, and deception; glaring ayes typify folly,
gluttony, drunkenness, and shamelessness. The wide, glaring eye is
also associated with the eunuch, as is the high voice and lack of beard.
Moreover the eunuch is Judged to be foolish, lustful, and presumptu-
ous.65 Chaucer no doubt also intends us to be aware of the spiritual
eunuchry of his character.

lhile the elements of the physical description are not of the
same grotesque ugliness as those of the Summoner's portrait, the stress
laid ontthe hair, "yelow as wex," hanging like flax, in "colpons, con
and con," coupled with the foppish pretensions which cause the Far-
doner to keep his hood "trussed up” for the sake of some imagined
fashion, produce a near-grotesque effect through oddity, rather than
ugliness. The glaring eyes "as an hare" also contribute to the
caricature-grotesque. The vernycle, completely unrelated to the type

of details being related, recalls the Pardoner's occupation. In his

91+

wallet with the hood are pardons, "comen from Rome a1 hoot." The
phrase is typical of the subtle way in which the narrator expresses
his contempt. "Al hoot" recalls the cries of the London street vendors,
and Chaucer certainly pictures his subject as a sort of holy huckster.
The line on his pretension to fashion, "Kym thoughts he read al of the
newe Jet," conveys the same sort of scorn. The narrator takes the

reader into his confidence, implying that ofacourse, we recognize that
he is not in fashion at all.

The haphazard reasserts itself as Chaucer clinches the argument.
The high voice and beardlessness are no surprise at this point, for they
have been carefully hinted all along. The line "I trowe he were a
geldyng or a mare," introducing for the moment the callow narrator,
reduces the Pardoner to the state of a workhorse, good for little;
satirically it deflates him to a position singularly lacking the digy
nity which he thinks he has by being the height of style. It completes
a process which began in the first lines of the portrait, a lengthy
progression which calls great attention to the Pardoner's physical
and spiritual lack. Furthermore, when Chaucer says "I trowe," he
expresses more innocent surprise than certainty, but has maneuvered the
reader to a position where the reader readily believes the narrator,
not the Pardoner who later tells the Iife of Bath he was contemplating
marriage.

Chaucer makes a habit of ironically attempting to recover the
ground which a character loses by a direct satirical hit, and he does
so here: "But of his craft, fro Berwyk into Iare, / Ne was ther swich
another pardoner." The application of the word "craft" to a man with

a vocation like the Pardoner's speaks volumes, leading nicely into the

95
catalogue in‘fraudulent relics. The narrator outlines the contents of
the wallet:

For in his male he hadde a pilwe-beer,

'hich that he seyde was Ours Lady veyl;

He seyde he hadde a gobet of the seyl

That Saint Peter hadde, whan that he wants

Upon the see, til Jhesu Crist hym hente.

He hadde a croys of latoun ful of stones,

And in a glas he hadde pigges bones. (69k-700)

Chaucer accomplishes a superb satiric and humorous deflation of the
supposed relics by at once stating their ostensible origins and their
actual composition. Starting with the inelegant "pilwe-beer" he
proceeds to the "gobet," and at the last need not even say what the
“pigges bones" are supposed to represent. Everyone knows, and the
convention has worked its ends. The deprecatory language applied to
"thise relics" serves satire well. Their ordinariness and the
narrator's evident scorn give the Pardoner no chance to fool the
reader. As relics go, they are extremely dull. The question of false
relics and their effects upon the people is discussed later in this
study. Suffice it to say that Chaucer's Pardoner carries along an
unassuming batch of them; the relics which were actually worshipped
and the even more spectacular ones of literary provenance show con-
siderably more style.

It is of course the believing poor who suffer most at the hands
of the Pardoner. Iith "feyned flaterye and Japes" he takes "moors
moneys / Than that the person gat in monthes tweye." This reflects a
very real complaint of the time. Pardoners and friars shared techniques
of preaching to the parish on feast days, appropriating the extraplarge
offerings normally received by the parish priest. Or they would

compete with him, taking up position in the town square, depriving him

96

of his congregation. The priest was obliged to let the pardoner
preach in his church and the pardoner was obliged to let the priest
say his usual Mass, but abuses were common. When enmity developed, as
it often did, the pardoner was sometimes able to blackmail the priest,
even, Jusserand shows, to have him excommunicated.66 In other instances,
the priest and pardoner collaborated, splitting the profits.

For all this, Chaucer tells us, "He was in chirche a noble ecclesi-
aste." He is, as we later discover, a superb preacher:

Wel koude he rode a lessoun or a storie,

But alderbeste he song an offertorie;

For wel he wiste, when that song was songs,

He moste preche and wel affile his tonge

To wynne silver, as he ful wel koude;

Therfore he song the murierly and loude. (709-71h)
The unclerical phrase“"wel affile his tongs" recalls the similarly
described wiles of Pandarus and completes the portrait of the Pardoner
as fast-talking salesman. The narrator stresses, as the Pardoner
himself will do later, that his purpose is "nat but for to wynne," and
indeed, that was regarded as the pardoner's main goal by many. Wyclif
writes:

. . . there cometh a pardoner with stollen bullis and false

relikis, grauntynge mo yeris of pardon than comen bifore

domes day for gevynge of worldly catel to riche placis where

is no node . . . And this pardoner schalle tells of more power

than evere crist grauntid to petir or poul or any apostle, to

draws the almes fro pore bedrede neigheboris that hen knowen

feble and pore, and to gets it to hem self and westen it ful

synfulli in ydelnesse and glotonye and lecherie.
But the Pardoner's own confession indicates his aims and methods
better than any other and will be discussed in Chapter Four.

Chaucer's Pardoner is very much in keeping with other appearances
of this official, both literary and documentary. In literature the

word pardoner is a byword for the false, deceitful, and avaricious

97

hypocrite-churchman, subject to all the characteristic vices to which
the professional fund-raiser is heir. The figure appears infrequently,
usually merely a passing reference. Langland mentions pardoners several
times. They are vicious and wicked, gullers of the ignorant, friends of
gluttons and liars, lovers of lechery.68 Chaucer's Pardoner has much
in common with these companions. He is a personage composed of a
combination of conventional and mimetic details. The conventional
aspects of his occupation establish the context in which we are to
view him. The mimetic details-—those of physical description-vivify
the type. His portrayal borders on the grotesque, mainly through his
association with the Summoner and the stress on his appearance, but
Chaucer does not dwell so selectively on ugliness in the Pardoner's
portrait. His personality is well-established through physiognomic
details and the brief picture of his operations among the poor and in
church. is a mimetic figure the Pardoner is definitely on the
transitorydworldly end of the descriptive spectrum. Io shall observe
him to become more and more lifelike in his Prologue where the beliefs
and attitudes outlined in the General Prologue are substantiated by the
confessional monologue.

Only six lines of the General Prologue are devoted to description
OIWHarry Bailly, the Host. We learn that "A.large man he was with
eyen steps," who is "Boold of his speche." He is ”semely," a "fair
burgeys," and "of manhed hym lakkede right noght." The narrator tells
us about rather than shows us the Host. But Harry Bailly dominates the
pilgrimage and.needs little introduction. Before reaching Canterbury
we know more of him than of any pilgrim except the Wife of Bath.

we have up to this point almost ignored the most important member

98
of the pilgrim band, Chaucer himself, or rather, Chaucer's pilgrim
persons. In the General Prologue and later in the prologue to his

Tale of Thopas he retains the naive, wide-eyed characterization estab-
lished for himself in the earlier works, 233 M 91 m m, 3119.

Em 91 ES“: and 11! W 2:, 3.931.91- His naiveté is expressed

in his proneness to exaggerate, to judge by appearances, and to accept
each of the pilgrims as the very best of his type. The last is most
obvious: of the Knight, Yeoman, Monk, Friar, Merchant, Clerk, Man of
Law, Franklin, Cook, Shipman, Physician, Parson, Plowman, Miller,
Manciple, Summoner, Pardoner, and Host he ambiguously states either that
"Ther was nowher swich a worthy . . ." or that "certainly he was a good
felawe"! The frequency of these ambiguously laudatory lines reflects
on the pilgrim described, most often ironically, and on Chaucer the
narrator.

A humor born of incongruity borders on a gentle satire of both
the object and the perpetrator of the descriptions. Chaucer's persona
listens wide-eyed to the worldly Monk, as we have noted. Naively
impressed, he agrees that the world could never be served if all monks
stned in their cloisters or at manual labor. Similarly he accepts
the falacious reasoning of the Friar:

. . . unto a povre order for to yive

Is signs that a man is wel yshryve;

For if he yaf, he dorste make avaunt,

He wiste that a man was repentaunt;

For many a man so hard is of his herte,

He may nat wepe, althogh hym score -erte.

Therfore in stede of wepynge and preyeres

Hen moote yeve silver to the povre freres. (225-232)

Ther nas no man nowher so vertuous.
He was the hosts beggere in his hous. (251-252)

99
The incongruity of the hard heart and smarting conscience is not
apparent to the overly-credulous narrator.
is a simple-minded soul, Chaucer's persona expresses great

admiration of trickery. we hear him praise the crafty Shipman and

Pardoner. He seems to admire the great knowledge of the Physician and
the business acumen of the Manciple:

Now is nat that of God a ful fair grace
That swich a lowed mannes wit shal pace
The wisdom of an heep of lerned men? (573-575)

. . . this Hanciple sette hir allerccappe. (586)
The ironic nature of these bits of praise is of course obvious, but
Chaucer achieves double-duty from them, using them both as ironic
comments and as characterizing devices which contribute to the narrator's
wide-eyed, naive pose. V

The image of the narrator as naive, simple, and earnest is further
developed in his words to the reader:

But first I pray yow, of youre curteisye,
That ye n'arette it nat my vileynye,

Thogh that I pleynly spoke in this mateere,
To telle yow hir wordes and hir cheers,

Ne thogh I spoke hir wordes proprely.

For this ye knowen al so wel as I,

These shal telle a tale after a man,

He moot reherce as my as evere he has

Everich a word, if it be in his charge,

Al spoke he never so rudeliche and large,

Or elles he moot telle his tale untrewe,

Or feyne thyng, or fynde wordes newe.

He may nat spare, althogh he were his brother;
Be meet as wel seye o word as another.

Crist spak hymself ful brode in hooly writ,
And wel ye woot no vileynye is it.

Eek Plato seith, whoso that ksn hym rode,

The wordes moote be cosyn to the dede.

Also I prey yew to foryeve it me,

Al have I nat set folk in hir degree

Beers in this tale, as that they sholde stonde.
Hy wit is short, ye may wel understonde. (725-7h6)

100
Fearful lest he offend, the narrator blames "vileynye" on his fellow
pilgrims, fggznpgg on his ostensible lack of wit. Secure behind this
opaque screen, Chaucer-the-poet is free to manipulate his personages in
very sophisticated fashion, while at the same time putting forth a
simplistic rationale of truth in literature. He promises us a realistic,
mimetic work. The very promise, however, points up the fact that the
work is literary and imaginative, told by a narrator who has at this
Point already established himself as an excellent artisan. The com-
mentary is also a sort of come-on, like the warning before the Miller's
Tale, and a protective device: if we don't like the tale, we should
certainly not blame him, he says. He's only the scribe. Chaucer sets
up a reality which we know is unreal and asks us to accept it. He
never loses his medium, which is in fact, unreality, art; we suspend
our disbelief, not to the point of ignoring his medium, but of accept-
ing it as a mirror of reality. The art of mimesis encourages us to
accept the work of art as a representation of life. To do this we need
not abandon our awareness that artistry is not equivalent to life.
Chaucer always manages to keep the elements of both art and life
within the reader's consciousness. In so doing, he keeps himself
constantly in the reader's mind, creating a believable and likesble
character for his own persona.

Pausing to assess Chaucer's portraiture in the General Prologue,
we find several basic types of characterization, each type representing
reality to a different degree. First, and least realistic, is the
ideal figure, represented in the 2.;g.,by the Knight, Clerk, Parson,
and Plowman. A second group contains those pilgrims described

externally, according to appearance and occupation, but who have been

101
given no or only few personality traits and includes the Yeoman, the
Cook,rand the Hanciple. Described in much the same way is a larger
group whose appearance and occupation is most important but whose
portraits contain at least hints of values, opinions, etc. which
transform the figures into personages. In this group we find the
Physician, the Shipman, and the Franklin. The grotesque figures like-
wise form a group; they are notable not for lack of characterization,
but for singularity and excessive stress of peculiar traits, for their
incongruity or ugliness. Such are the Miller and Summoner, but the
Reeveaand Pardoner partake of some of the same characteristics. Lastly
we find a group of pilgrims who, by virtue of the many-sided portrayal
given them, are most lifelike. These include the Wife of Bath, the
Friar, and the Monk. These categories of course overlap, and cannot
be consistently defined for each pilgrim; it remains to examine each
one somewhat closer.

The idealized figures are the least individualized and are per-
trayed as exemplars of a state or role in society. we have the holy
person, dutiful peasant, studious clerk, honorable knight. The Parson,
Plowman, Clerk, and Knight do not exist as individuals. They are
portrayed as given sets of attitudes, conventions without traits to
humanize them. Some of the same descriptive techniques which are used
to describe the most mimetic figures are also used for these. But
because Chaucer has put them in a world where each is the best of his
type, with no faults imputed, they lack the transitory, earth-bound
qualities which are one very important sign of their humanness. The
language of their portraits is often prescriptive rather than descrip-

tive. In making them ideal figures, Chaucer has removed individualizing

102

elements. As personalities, each is a kind of bookish perfection. In
the‘ggptggbpgy,gglg§ they serve as touchstones. Because they are models
of perfection we do not actually expect anybody to be like them; they
represent the state of perfectness towards which members of the transi-
tory and worldly sects ought to strive, and against which they can be
measured.

Other pilgrims are described according to Chaucer's announced
intention

To telle yow al the condicioun

0f ech of hem, so as it semed me,

And which they weren, and of what degree,

And eek in what array that they were inne. (38.1.1)
Chaucer's descriptions of pilgrims such as the Merchant, Man of Law,
Cook, and Hanciple are largely mimetic, consisting of detailed descrip-
tions of the appearance and occupation of the personage. Undoubtedly
some of the narrator's value judgments show through these portraits.
Comic-satirical possibilities are manifest: the Man of Law‘s "pur-
chaayng" in Gfee symple”; the Merchant's selling "sheeldes"; the
Hanciple's implied larceny by conversion. Nevertheless the narrator's
attitude towards these characters is relatively objective; we are told
little of their values or personalities, and when such details are
made known, it is usually through allusion or implication. The per-
traits consist for the most part of details, the ggglig,spoken of by
Margaret Schlauch, so often assumed to constitute realism. 3.9.313:
type details—do indeed produce vivid pictures. But because they
consist of externals, little illuminates the inner personality, the
ground of being, of the characters so described (except perhaps in a

flu-bolic sense). Chaucer is a master of such usage, nonetheless. His

103
basic techniques include meticulous selectivity of details, careful use
of coordinating images to confirm or deny the surface sense, apparent
haphazard arrangement of details to achieve particular effects through
juxtaposition and change of context, implications of the narrator's
opinion through choice phrasing, and the catalogue of terms from a
particular discipline to convey an atmosphere. In those portraits
which do convey some sense of the personage's values, Chaucer hints at
the figure's ethos through satiric comment, more often humorous than
bitingly Juvenalian, or through stress on a given preoccupation, such
as the Franklin's concern for appearances. In many ways the characters
governed by‘zgglyg seen most realistic to the modern critic since they
represent Chaucer's most objective portrayal. Yet they lack the
character development which comes, most often, from the use and varia-
tion of conventions.

Those pilgrims whose personalities are most vividly revealed are
characterized by a combination of mimetic description (like the 33.1139
governed characters) and satiric conventions indicative of certain
personality traits. The convention is a distillation of "typical"
traits associated with a given figure. It grows out of a consciousness
of the typical figure (often accompanied by implied moral judgments)
and may have its referents in actual life (the friars, monks, pardoners,
for instance), or in literature (the knight, courtly lover), or in both.
Conventions exist for both the ideal and the realistic types. The
realism or idealism of the portrait depends upon the particular
characteristics that are emphasized. The ideal convention moves away
from reality towards perfection and the ultimate typological referents;

the mimetic convention tends towards comedy, satire, caricature,

104
grotesquerie. The mimetic convention can be made realistic or gro-
tesque, depending on the use to which it is put. The functioning of
convention is highly allusive. In medieval literature figures described
in terms of convention may be either trite cliches, repetitions of types
which have appeared again and again, or they may be personages which
have acquired, through conventions, a depth of personality built upon
all the accumulated conventional figures which precede them. The
difference between the flat convention and the mimetic figure is the
poet's artistry. le have seen that Chaucer rarely leaves a convention
just as he finds it. His realistic figures are not mere conventions
because they have at no point shed that element of‘pggligpbased
description which they share with the strictly externally-pictured
figures. Furthermore, the conventions are infinitely variable. we
have seen a variety of techniques by which Chaucer extracts new life
from a convention while retaining the traditional connotations which
accompany it. He may mismatch a character and a convention, as he does
in the Prioress' portrait. He changes point of view’in his narrator's
transcription, putting some conventional details in the mouth of the
hharacter whom they traditionally criticize, as in the sketch of the
Honk. He dilutes or distills the traits pictured. Most of all, he
relies on the interaction of allusive conventional details with personal
description, the narrator's persona, and the humorous and ironic modes.
Ihen the figure described is highly mimetic we find that the scope of
the portrait is wide. These figures portrayed in many situations or
from several points of view are extremely lifelike. When the figure is
ultimately a grotesque, the scope is not so important as is the cartoon-

1ng technique. Particular traits are emphasized in such a way as to

105
create a monster. While the grotesque has much in common with the
_realistic figure, he is not quite so lifelike because his plausibility
has been sacrificed to the cartoon or caricature, whose aim is humor
or satire.

For all his extensive use of satiric materials, Chaucer is
primarily a humorist. He lacks the malice and pessimism which charac-
terize the satirist who attacks his foes with a vengeance. He is
amazingbserene, especially in his naive pose, when confronted by the
abuses which he describes in satiric terms. Be is thus able to draw
profoundly on the humoriinherent in the satiric mode. For satire and
humor both draw on incongruities, over- and under-statements, exag-
geration, and the like. By sacrificing the satirist's venom, Chaucer
achieves vibrant humor while at the same time retaining the allusive-
ness which keeps satire and irony aluays in his readers' minds. Of
course if we read the gaggl,typolegically we are apt to find consider-
ably more satire than this examination of the surface techniques of
characterization and narrative management shows. Chaucer does venture
into satire from time to time, notably in the Summoner's portrait, and
several times in the tales which follow. His satire shines for the
same reason that his characters are so lifelike: he writes of individuals
who often happen to be types, but he portrays them first as individuals.
The mimetic qualities inherent in the portrayal of individuals vivify
the satire in the same way that they humanize the types.

It is impossible to outline specific characteristics possessed by
every portrait because variation is great. There is considerable
overlapping of technique in all types of the sketches. Some observations

can be made, however, concerning the relationships between mimesis

106
and the types of details used in a portrait. It was observed earlier
that details tend to fall into two categories, those of personal
description and of societal function. Each category contains details
which may be regarded as conventional or nonconventional. The Appendix
to Chapter Two reflects data concerning these categories, together with
some comments on their statistical importance. The data probably
tell us more about the limitations of using numbers of details in
gauging the realism of a personage than anything else. It is not
surprising that the longer the portrait the more details that portrait
tends to contain. The portraits which concentrate on externals are
among the highest in functional description, but a number of ideal
figures also rank highly. Statistically, functional description is not
significant for mimesis. When personal and functional descriptive
details were subdivided into conventional and nonconventional groups,
no statistically significant trend emerged, indicating that convention
alone is not a determinant of realism. It is not feasible to test for
trend in variations on convention, for such qualities cannot be quanti-
fied. The total number of details is significant in determining the
realism of a portrait, however.

Thus, it is Chaucer's artistry which determines how realistic a
portrait shall be. The figures which are most lifelike are those
Tortrayed in their transdsnce, in their faults. The least realistic are
Portrayed silply. in terms which stress their universality, not their
individuality. The W M include a wide variety of figures
set forth in varying perfection and imperfection. Chaucer's artistry
is fuflly in control when he chooses the degree of mimesis to which a

personage shall be portrayed. It guides his combinations of convention

107
and mimetic detail. Always vivid, he selects unexpected details or
gives an unusual turn of phrase to a familiar fact. His descriptive
language is always adapted to the subject, especially in the catalogues
of concrete details pertinent to a pilgrim. He achieves an informal
and immediate tone through colloquialisms--"nat worth a fissh,"-
references to his opinions, or lack of information-"Sooth to soyn, I
noot how men hym calle,"--and the haphazard organization so common to
the vignettes. His integration of detail and convention is skillful.
The details often do not match the type, sometimes pointing up»the
narrator's naiveté, sometimes accomplishing variations on the type. The
juxtapositions of two variant types may produce satire as well as vivid
description. In all this, Chaucer maintains his concern for the specific,
the concrete, the individual, and for the creation of a work which is

lifelike and which his readers can enjoy.

APPENDIX TO CHAPTER II

Following are statistical tallies concerning the following cate-
gories of details in the General Prologue: number of lines per portrait;
personal descriptive details; details relating to the function of the
pilgrim in society. In each category the pilgrims are ranked according
to the number of lines/details each has, from the greatest to the least
number. The number of occurrences follows each entry. A subdivision of
personal descriptive details and functional details into conventional
and non-conventional elements is possible, but indicates nothing statis-
tically significant. One can find statistically significant correlations
between the number of lines given to a pilgrim and the number of descrip-
tive details used in the portrait of that pilgrim. No such correlation
exists between lines and functional details. Similarly, a correlation
exists between the overall mimetic ranking of a pilgrim and the number of
personal descriptive details. No significant correlation exists between
mimesis and the total number of details. The test used was the Cox-Stuart
test for trend. (Statistical consultant: Herrilee Helmers, Department of
Statistics and Probability.) The pilgrims have been ranked according to
overall mimetic effect. This mimetic listing is completely subjective,
but variations of two or three places do not significantly affect the

correlation factor. The significance level used was 5%.

108

109

season
nossoam

5. r. “HCE
osasum
meson»
uamwsu
nosmoaeeo
moon

sea «o as:
eaaaone:
anemone:
addxcoah
aesndnm
ssdoamhgm
sends:
obeem
aeoosnnm
nonsense
smosoaam
spam no one:
asses
ado:

oneness cap-ma:

w seasons:
o..auaueaau¢
o. «sesoun:
: aim—Fog

, .2 soon

«3 .3 no 8:
9 s33

2 no”;
N.— asioeh

ma season

9. 5&2»
.m flea no our.
- boa:

NN hogan—am
am s8:

MN Hammock.“
m~ 8.35

mm 05.00“

mm .25

as 8323
on 2an
an maeaoanm

ldfiduen Hausa

N aeaaa:

m season

a anemone:
m sou-oases
m msssoam

a anode

o somessum
w‘eandeso:

m spam we own.
m men we as:
m use:

m maoaoasm
o— meanness
p. moon

—— somooasm
M— cream

i: 5&3»
w. sedan

mp eaaeom

a. season

mm 533-5
3 causes

anaemic-on
7838:.—

o 8-3

o .335:

_ soon

n 335.

a Sane-Ea
a asssoam

a has no as:
m eon-Sufi
m assuage

m s88

w anemone:
a. assess
m osdsom

N. soaps

3 seem «a one:
+3 Honova
#p hogan—85m.

i: sen—cow
m. cream

mp ”so:

ON sodas:
ON ameaoahm

moaunfiaomon
demomaem

a moon

mp nsssoam
mp anemone:
up deacon

w— mesmoaflso
o~ enhance:
pm sound:
-.ssn «e as:
N Chad”

mm 832»
3N mueao

an caduceus
mm ovum no one:
an oneness—a
mm chasm

mm «means
no use:

m: ~336th
m: seasons»
5: aaeaofiam
pm season.

so 52a

”ocean

110

NOTES TO CHAPTER II

‘Dvorak, xxvii-xxviii.

aAll quotations from the Canterm TM are from I". H. Robinson,
The £21.12 21 9mm 9m. and cd- (Bo-ton: 1961).

3I am aware that the siege of Alexandria and the Baltic campaigns
were regarded even in the fourteenth century as inexcusably barbarous.
This, along with the Knight's armor, which appears to be old fashioned,
might call in question the idealization of the personage, according to
U. T. Holmes. If so, the Knight would rank considerably closer to the
realistic and of the mimetic-idealistic spectrum which I am construct-
ing. Ihile admitting this possibility, I personally believe the con-
sistency of the portrait and other appearances of the Knight to be such
as to call this possible interpretation into doubt.

"J. H. Manly. "A Knight ther val." W at 21.! m
WW9 38 (1907): 10‘ ff.

53ch1auch, 8 e
6
5151 e

John Livingston Lewes, "Simple and Coy," m, 33 (1910), M0-

7Nur1°13mm inmmmmmm
males. (Nov York: 191.8). 9n.

8All quotations from the 3m 1132 m are from the edition of

Felix Lecoy, 3 vols. (Paris: 1968).

9All translations of the m ll! 13 M are from W 91 ill!

Rose, trans. Charles Dahlberg, (Princeton: 1971).
1030"”. 98'99e

"a. R. cm. W and mm in mm mm. and m. on.
(Oxford: 1961), 327.

”mourn-r. imam main means: a. 1:22 is 125:2.
(Cambridge: 1922), noted in Bowden, 93.

13'55” Appendix to Chapter II, p. 108.

1"'See William Langlsnd, m 21m, C. VI. "(l-152; also John

Savor. m 2.9. 1.29m. 20845 flu in 2mm. IV- 281-282: John

mm. mm mm 21 mm W W. I. D. mm... Ode:
3.3.13.8. es. 711., (London: 1880), all noted in Bowden_109.

111

15m 33;: 21, m W, trans. Cardinal Gasquet, (London:
1936), chapter 66.

”cover, m, 20953-20966, 21044-21048.

18Bowden, 111.

19Bounded, 119.
2oThe rise and fall of the mendicant orders has been vividly and

concisely traced by Jo Jo Jussorlnd. m m 14.1.2 in the Biddle.
3.9.3.1 trans. Lucy Toulmin Smith, hth ed. (New York: 1889, rpt. 1950);
Bowden; Arnold Williams, "Chaucer and the Friars," Smcglpn, 28 (1953),
1199-513; "Two Notes on Chaucer's Friars," W W, 511 (1956-57),
117-120; and "The 'Limitour' of Chaucer's Time and his 'Limitacioun',"

man is W. 57 (1960), 1163-1178.

“Hath-v Pam. 911mm ram: 9W hum 9.1 2m
3m and Inland Ma 21.: mun; Aces. R0118 «rice. 57. noted in
Bowden, 121.

22'Iilliams, "Chaucer and the Friars,“ 500.

23111111.", mg” 501, 501..

“new Wright. 3.2mm 2.9.9: and Em. 3 7013-9 Ron: norm.
1h, I. 266,. noted in Bowden, 1311-135.

259w», m, 21241-21261,, 21283-21288.
26Langland, B. v. 138-150.

2731:. Bonaventure, 141; g; a. gm, (London: 1912), 31.1..
zaBowden, 138.

ZgBfldon, 135-136.

30Iilliams, "Two Notes on Chaucer's Friars," 117-118.
31lilliams, "Chaucer and the Friars," 513.

3ZBowden, 1&6-153.

33hfl1ne: Rashdall, as W 9.: mm in mm: Ans.
ed. 1'. H. Powicke and A. B. Emden, 3 vols, (Oxford, 1936), III. 11111.

“with, xxvii-xxviii.

35hederiok J. Fmivall, 1233; W m m m, 2.3.1.3.
o.s. 32, (London: 1868), 511. I have expanded all thorns to "th."

112

)“mtor cm- cnm. manner and um hidden; 2219221. (New York:
1926 . 48.

37Bowden, 188-189.
381301111», 210-211.
39Sewer, m, 25621 ff.
“out, 350-351.
“Langlsnd, B. VI. 259-272.
“Joan de Noun, 5091-5102.

”John Matthews Manly, ed. 952.139.22.911 M, (New hark: 1928),
5279. no use

“Langlsnd, VI. 103-109.
‘15

116

G. G. Coulton, m M m, (Cambridge: 1925), 237.
curry. 79.90.

8 )lflJames Thorold Rogers, £11,; W 91 m and 1m, (London:
1 911 , 65.
“Curry, 36 ffe

”Louis A. Haselmqer, "The ipparitor and Chancel-1. smmu’u
W. 12 (1937). 43557.

soflaselmaver, 1.5.

51Baselmaver, 51.

5aflaselmsyer, 52.

”Easemyer, 53.

5l’fiaselmayer, 54.

”Translation by Bowden, 266.

SsI-angland, c. m. 59; III. 18?: Iv. 171.
57Easelauor, 55.
58Tright, 157.

59mm. 322%:me. od- K- S.
BlOCk, EOBOTQSO .ele 120. (London: 1922), 11. 1-160

113

60Curry, 40.

6'6””, “9e

6ZBowden, 263-26h.
63

6“J. J. Jusserand, "Chaucer's Pardoner and the Pope's Pardoners,"
When 0 MW. series 2. no- 19. 1125.

550nrry, 57 ff.

66Jusserand, "Chaucer's Pardoner," h32-h33.

BO'dOn . 285e

67hclif, 154s

68Lang1and, c. I. 66-80; B. II. 108; c. III. 229.

CHAPTER III: THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE

Pilgrimage in the middle ages was more than a religious

exercise, a custom, habit, an escape, an entertainment

or an act of profound faith. Simply because it contained

all these qualities in varying degrees it cannot be viewed

in isolation. It interweaves the whole of the social as

well as religious life of the people from king to beggar.

The different attitudes towards pilgrimage are an expression

of the different attitudes towards living, towards every as-

pect of the temporal and spiritual worlds.
Though Chaucer's pilgrimage does not interweave quite the whole of
social life from king to beggar, it does encompass almost the entire
spectrum of attitudes towards living, both spiritual and temporal. As
such, it is not an unfaithful representation of the groups which
Chaucer no doubt observed setting out, either by his house on the
Canterbury Road, or at the Customs House, bound for overseas sanctuaries.2
They ranged from the solitary penitent, condemned to wander the remain-
der of his life in reparation for some horrible sin, to the truly
devout, such as Margery Kempe, to the rag-tag, unsavory group pictured
by Langlsnd:

Eremytes on an hep with hokede staves,

Wanton to Walsyngham and hure wenches after:

Grete lobies and longs that loth were to swynke,

Clothede hem.in copis to be knowe fro othere, 3

And made hem-solve eremytes hure eise to have.
Chaucer sets forth his company in the General Prologue, and we have
observed the aariety of personages and techniques comprising this artistic
accomplishment. Like manuscript illustrations, they include varying
degrees of realism, grotesquerie, idealization. But portraits do not

114

115

make people, no matter how vivid their picturing. Chaucer is capable
of realistic portraiture, a master of it when it suits his purpose.
Moreover, he is eminently capable of portraying his personages dramatic-
ally, placing them in contexts in which they relate to one another,
interacting with emotions common to everyday life. Such interaction is
essentially dramatic, and Chaucer's realism in the portrayal of the
pilgrimage is determined largely by his abilities to handle the dramatic
potential inherent in the pilgrimage situation plausibly and, hence,
mimetically. Basic unrealities, often pointed out, do exist in the
ggptggbnzzuzglgg. It is unlikely that some thirty travelers, strung
out along a busy, no doubt muddy road, could tell stories to the group
as a whole; the Reeve would never hear theMiller's tale, and vice versa.
Much of the pilgrimage life is selectively omitted; the pilgrims never
sleep, and they eat only once. Attention is devoted to the telling of
the tales and to interchanges closely related to the story-telling.
But these things, like the fact that the narrator knows more of his
companions than he could possibly learn in an evening, are ignored by
the reader, who suspends his disbelief willingly. The ggntgzppzz
231;.,n- a whole is not a photographic representation of life. Ihen we
speak of "Chaucerian realism," we do not mean that the gglgg constitute
a realistic novel. Chaucer's presentation of reality is not consistent,
yet when he chooses to relate events in mimetic fashion, he is admirably
capable of doing so.

The end-links relate the story of the Canterbury pilgrimage in a
piecemeal fashion. While the Qgpgggbprz,gglg§ concentrate on the
stories rather than the pilgrims and pilgrimage, it is the dramatic

W of the pilgrims which constitutes the actual life of the

I16

pilgrimage. In the links to the stories Chaucer amplifies and modifies
the portraits of the General Erologue. The Prologue presents the pil-
grims described by the narrator, but in the course of the pilgrimage we
ostensibly see them revealing themselves through speech and action. A
very large portion of the end-links is devoted to dialogue, a very small
part to the narrator's descriptions. The Host and several emergent
themes serve as unifying factors. Chaucer-the-poet nominally abrogates
his position as controllertof the whole to one of his personages, Harry
Bailly. The Host directs the route and the tales, and controls, or
attempts to control, the pilgrims' reactions and activities; Chaucer is
only a slightly obtuse, self-appointed recording secretary. The position
of Harry Bailly as guiding spirit is established early-and reiterated
often during the course of the pilgrimage:

This thyng was graunted, and ours othes swore

With ful glad herte, and preyden hym also

That he wolde vouche sauf for to do so,

And that he wolde been oure governour,

And of cure tales Juge and reportour,

And sette a soper at_a certeyn pris,

And we wel reuled been at his devys

In heigh and laugh; and thus by con assent

we been acorded to his Juggement. (809-818)

Up roos oure Hoost, and was cure aller cok,
And gadrede us togidre alle in a flak. (823-82h)

"lhoso be rebel tommy Juggement
Shel paye for al that by the way is spent." (833-83h)

The Host remains the cock throughout the pilgrimage and his Judgment
encompasses a multitude of things. He attempts to control-the fellow-
ship, literary taste, and marital mores of the pilgrims, while constantly
rushing them along with references to geography and the quickly passing
time. In these concerns he is much like that creation of the‘lun's

Priest, Chauntecleer, complete with Chauntecleerian bluster.

117

The drama of the pilgrimage begins after the completion of the
Knight's Tale when the Host unsuccessfully asserts himself to stave
off the drunken Miller who

. . . nolde . . .

Abyde for no man for his curteisie,

But in Pilates voys he gan to crie,

And swoor, "By armes, and by blood and bones,

I kan a noble tale for the nones,_-

Iith which I wel now quite the Knyghtes tale." (3121-3126)

The Miller will not be quietedp-"I wel spoke, or elles go my woy"-

and the Host, in spite of his dictum that he shall be boss, gives in to
the abundant oaths of the Miller:“ETel on, a devel way!" The Host loses
his first battle in the confrontation with the Miller. He continues in
the course of the pilgrimage to lose them all, as we shall see, but he
never realises that he is a loser. The character of the'Host is dis-
covered cumulatively throughout the end-links. His encounter with the
Miller marks only the first exposure of his bluster and proneness to
back out of a bad situation.

The interchange bears out Chaucer's original characterization of the
Miller as a brawny, burly man who speaks of "sin and harlotrie." It also
establishes some structural principles shich reappear throughout the
Egnzgghggzflgglgl. The tales are neither entirely independent of one
another nor of the pilgrims who tell them. Since the travelers are
engaged in a contest to tell the tale "of best sentence and moost solas,"
it is-not surprising that rivalries and variations on given themes 1
develop.

The Miller says he will tell a "noble" tale to quit the Knight.

His fabliau has in fact a plot parallel to theKnight's Tale, but only

pseudoenobility. He antagonizes the Reeve and sets off a series of

118
tales designed to "quit" a preceding tale, often through satire. The
Miller defends his "harlotrie" much as Chaucer excuses himself for
transcribing it:

But first I make a protestaccioun

That I am dronke, I knowe it by my soon;

And therefore if that I mysspeke or says,

lyte it the ale of Southwerk, I you preys. (3137-31h0)

,The Miller makes use of the apology topos, but not quite in the usual
way. Uhconcerned about the literary qualities of his tale, he worries
most that he will be incomprehensible because of his drunkenness. He
does of course "mysspeke" insofar as his tale is of "synne and harlot-
rie," hardly a tale of "sentence" and "soles" such as the tale-competi-
tion has designated to be the winner.

The Miller's apology is echoed by the narrator, whose "protests-
cioun" is moressophisticated and echoes his rationale for literary
realism in the General Prologue:

For Goddes love, demeth net that I says

0f yvel entente, but for I meet reherce

Hir tales alle, be they bettre or verse,

Or elles falsen son of my mateere.

And therfore, whose list it nat yheere,

Turn over the leef and chose another tale;

For he shal fynde ynowe, grete and smale,

Of storial thyng that toucheth gentillesse,

And eek moralitee and hoolynesse.

Blameth nat me if that ye chose says.

The Millers is a cherl, ye knowe wel this;

So was the Reve eek and others no,

And harlotrie they toldon bothe two.

Ayyseth yew, and put me out of blame;

And eek men shal nat maken ernest of game. (3172-5186)

The motif of literary criticism enters the Egggguwith Chaucer's
statement that he will record "Hir tales alle, be they bettre or worse."
Abrogating control of events and of pilgrims, he also surrenders,
nominally, control over the materials included. It is not surprising,

then, to find that the pilgrims themselves will take over his responsi-

119
bilities. Their abilities are varied, as we learn when the Host
becomes the leading literary critic in the gages. Io shall observe him
do as,selffsatisfied and inept a Job as critic as he does as cock.
Though he may have gotten the troop on the road early, he is a poor
marshall at other times. While claiming merely to record the tales,
Chaucer also recalls to mind the literary nature of his work: "Turn
over the lsef." Such a reminder at once undercuts the claim that the
work consists of impartially recorded stories heard on a pilgrimage
by reminding us that it is also literary.

Chaucer's other disavowal of responsibility, based on the rationali-
zation ”man shul nat maken ernest of game," is one more recurring motif.
The protestation that all said is said in game is very much a part of
the fabliau mode. Horrible things can happen in fabliaux, but since
the aim of the mode is humor, no matter how black, no illusion that the
characters are really hurt plagues the reader afterwards. Realism and
convention meet in the final two lines of Chaucer's apology: "Ayyseth
yew, and put me out of blame; / And eek men shal nat maksn ernest of
Sflme." Ihile swearing that he merely records what happened, Chaucer
embraces the fabliau ethos by assuring us that all occurs in Jest.‘ The
reminder will reappear whenever things seem to get too serious, except
for the final peroration of the Person and the conventional Retraction.
The melding of mimesis and game strongly supports Chaucer's claim to
be, above all else, a humorist. Satire should be taken with a grain of
salt, and Chaucer utilizes it primarily for its humor. we should not,
of course, blot out humor, Jest, and game in the service of a higher
meaning. The ultimate message of the 9mm 3.31.11 embraces the

Pilgrimage to the Celestial City, but that does not oblige us to ignore

120
the delightful wanderings through a multitude of earthly situations
which we experience on the way.

The Miller's Tale is one of drunken harlotry, but apparently even
the "gentles" of the group enjoy its good natured ribaldry:

'Ihan folk hadde laughen at this nyce cas

Of Absalom and hands Nicholas,

Diverse folk diversely they seyde,

But-for the moors part they loughe and pleyde.

Is at this tale I saugh no man hym grove,

But it were oonly Osewold the Revs.

By cause he was of carponteris craft,

A litel ire is in his herte ylaft. (3855-3862)

As the Miller's Tale is motivated by Robyn's desire to quit the Knight,
so the Reeve's Tale is motivated by personal antagonism, the Reeve's
choleric disposition, and his desire to make good the insult he deems
given him because of his carpenter's craft. A traditional hatred
between reeves and millers, both notorious for underhanded doings and
often in contact with one another on the feudal manor, is made personal
when the choleric Oswald takes offense. The fact that the offense
comes by way of Oswald's double occupation tempers the antagonism
somewhat, hoaever. The situation is also slightly more subtle than the
usual scenario of the fabliau.

Further distancing occurs through Chaucer's individualizing of the
Reeve, in keeping with the picture of the General Prologue. From time to
time he transcribes his northern dialect:

"So theek," quod he, "ful wel koude I thee quite

Iith blerymg of a proud milleres ye,.

If that me lists spoke of ribaudye.

But ik as sold, no list not play for age." (386u-3867)

The dialect is not used consistently, but recurs often enough, bringing
with it the images of the description in the General Prologue, to remind

the reader of the character's existence outside his occupation. But

121
the Reeve of a sudden achieves a completely unexpected dimension as he
embarks on a melancholy sermon-like lament, strikingly rich in metaphor:

But ik as sold, no list not ploy for age;
Gras tyme is doon, my fodder is now forage. (3867-3868)

The lank, dark, choleric Oswald has a melancholy streak in him and
sermonisos adroitly, drawing together three themes:

Pour gleedes han we, which I shall devyse,-—

Ayauntyng, liyng, anger, coveitise;

Thisemosr sparkles longen unto eelde. (3883-3885)

And yet 1]: have alwey a coltes tooth. (3888)

For sikorly, when I was bore, anon

Deeth drough the tappe of lyf and lost it gen;

And over sithe han so the tappe yronne

Til that almoost empty'is the tonne. (3891-3891:)

The sermonette is an elegant one in spite of its offbcolor puns. Its
great effectiveness lies in the fact that it comes from one of Chaucer's
acknowledged churls, who we know from the Killer's Prologue, will tell
"harlotrie." The shift in mode gives the Reeve an added depth and
furnishes the reader with a characteristic Chaucerian surprise. The
melancholy sermon does not individualize the Reeve in the same way as
his dialect; it rather broadens his character by injecting an unexpected
element of philosophy.

Dramatically the sermon is also an unexpected change, following
Chaucer's remark that Oswald "gan to grucche." It is not surprising to
find, however, that his imagery is not religious; almost all is drawn
from food and drink, in both his comments on aging and in his more
general remarks on life. The examples are typical of a reeve, although
the use to which he puts them is not. The type is varied and expanded
through use of the sermonette, but Chaucer does not simply put 93;

sermon in the Reeve's mouth. The lines are adroitly suited to him.

122

Equally effective is the Heat's interruption of the "tappe of lyf"
motif; the Reeve could not continue much longer without becoming a
bore:

Ihan that ours Hoost hadde herd this sermonyng,

He gan to spoke as lordly as a kyng.

He seido, "lhat amounteth al this wit?

What shul we spoke alday of hooly writ?

The devel made a revs for to prechs,

Or of a soutere a shipman or a leche.

Soy forth thy tale, and tarie net the tyne.

Lo Depeford! and it is halfdway pryme.

Lo Greneaych, ther many a shrewe is inns!

It were al tyne thy tale to bigynne." (3899-3908)
Harry Bailly, man of the here and now, shifts the focus from the time
of life to the time of day and to the immediate surroundings of the
pilgrims. True to his early image of cock gathering his flock, the
Host repeatedly harangues his charges with references to the clock.
Is shall see Chaucer's pilgrim persona burlesque the Heat's concern in
several instances of elaborate time-computation. Bailly's concern here
accomplishes several things. It gives local habitation, name, and time
to the incident, thus contributing to the "plausibility topos" erected
to establish the pilgrimage's verisimilitude. The Reeve is brought
back to the supposed insult by the Miller. An ironic and somewhat
humorous contrast is established between the melancholy but churlish
Reeve who despite his philosophical pose proceeds to tell satirical
"harlotrie" and the Host, speaking "lordly as a kyng," who likewise
misses the implications of the Reeve's sermonette. Harry Bailly is a
man who sees people as types, each type carefully classified socially.
we shall observe him again and again reacting violently when a fellow
Pilgrim does not act in a way consonant with the type from which he is
drawn, or the type to which Bailly believes he belongs. For Harry

Bailly is a worldly man, to his own thinking, one who feels he understands

123
the world, life, the people in it. He becomes highly resentful when
life does not concur with his preconceived notions. Ironically, Harry
Bailly is not exactly a type himself, as we shall see, and, of course,
variation of the type is one of Chaucer's fortes-a habit which promotes
numerous dramatic outbursts from the Host. Ostensibly in charge, the
Host continually protests actions which Chaucer has contrived to irritate
him by puncturing his illusory belief in his own power.

After each tale, Chaucer concentrates on the reaction of one pilgrim,
linking the tales by selecting that pilgrim to tell the next tale. Such
a focus is, in terms of realism, more effective than "folk hadde laughsn,"
or other general statements concerning enjoyment of the tale. A general
aPproach of this type is reminiscent of the field full of folk; no
individual emerges. Focus on the single pilgrim supplies opportunities
for dialogue, conflict, character illumination, and the concrete
specifics which Chaucer handles so well. The Cook reacts favorably to
the Reeve's fabliau:

_The Cook of Londoun, whil the Revs spak,
Forjjoye him thoughts he clawed him on the bak. (4325-4326)

The Cook proceeds to drew his own "sentence," and that moral lesson
forshadows the subject of his own tale:

Ne brynge nat every man into thyn hous;
For herberwynge by nyghte is perilous. (#331-h332)

The Cook promises to tell a tale of one of London's hostsiers; we are
not surprised, because innkeepsr Harry Bailly has his fun at the Cook's
expense:

New telle on, Roger, looks that it be good;

For many a pastes hastow laten blood,

And many a Jakke of Dovers hastow sold

That hath been twies hoot and twios coold.
Of many a pilgrym hastow Cristes curs,

12h

For of thy percely yet they fare the were,

That they han eten with thy stubbel goes;

For in thy shoppe is many a flye loos. (h3h5-h352)

These jocular insults imply a familiarity which will lead to similar
exposures_of the Host's trade. The Joke on occupations is an old
traditiontwhich always allows for realism. The details "twies hoot and
twies coold," and "many a flye loos" are vivid and serve to perpetuate
the pattern of satiric repartee established by the Miller and the Reeve,
but without the viciousness of Oswald's attack on the Miller. The fact
that the details are the same as, or drawn from the tradition of long-
standing Jokes does not lessen the realism so much as it fulfills the
expectations of the reader. The concreteness of the details enables
Chaucer to fulfill that expectation with insults more interesting than
simply, "You're a lousy cook!"

The fragmentary nature of the 23135 deprives us of a continuous
narration of the pilgrimage. We rejoin the group in Fragment II with
an old theme, however. The Host expounds once more on the passage of
time, but not before the narrator makes some pseudo-scientific fun of
his concern:

Ours Hooste saugh wel that the brighte senne

The ark of his artificial day hath ronne

The ferthe part, and half an hours and moors,

And though he were net depe ystert in loere,

He wiste it was the eightetethe day

Of Aprill, that is manager to lay;

And saugh wel that the shades of every tree

was as in lengths the same quantitee

That was the body erect that caused it.

And therfore by the shadwe he took his wit

That Phebus, which that sheen so clere and brighte,

Degrees was fyve and fourty clombe on highte;

And for that day, as in that latitude,

It was ten of the clothe, he gan conclude. (II. 1-1h)

Having reached this conclusion, the Host announces the fact to the

pilgrims, exhorting them to "leseth no tyne." His philosophy shows

125
much shallower than even that of the Reeve as he states, no doubt with
great self-importance:

[Time] wel met some agsyn, withoutsn drede, ‘
Namoore than wel Halkynnes maydsnhede. (29-30)

The Heat is spokesman for temporality, evernconcerned with the temporal
aspects of the pilgrimage, not once mentioning its spiritual side. His
humorous fuss reminds us once again that the world goes on in the back-
ground of the stories.

The Man of Law is called on for his tale. The Host puts on his
Sunday manners to make the request, borrowing terms from legal phrase-
olegy, Just as the narrator did in the General Prologue:

"Sire Han of Laws," quod he, "so have ye blis,

Tells us a tale anon, as forward is. ‘

Ts been submytted, thurgh yours free assent,

To stonden in this cas at my Juggsment.

Acquitsth yew now of yours bihsests;

Thanne have ye do yours deveir atte leests.” (33-38)

Harry Bailly attempts to master, or to appear master of, everyone's
business, in addition to his own. Invariably, when he steps into
anothsr«field, he sets himself up for foolishness. (No one believes for
a minute that the Host knows much of law.) The Man of Law goes on to
introduce another theme concerning which the Host repeatedly makes a
fool of himselfb-literary criticism:

I kan right now'no thrifty tale seyn

That Chaucer, thogh he kan but lewedly

On metres and on rymyng craftily,

Hath ssyd hes in swich Englissh as he kan

Of olde tyme, as knoweth many a man;

And if he have noght ssyd hem, leve brother,

In 0 book, he hath seyd hem in another. (46-52)

The assessment, substantiated by a bibliographical catalogue, is perfectly

consonant with Chaucer's naive persona. The question of the poet's

writings and abilities is brought up with complete objectivity, as 1:

126
he were neither there, nor had anything to do with the gantgzhggzugglgg.
The mention of the poet reinforces the miaesis of the passage by
clearly placing it in fourteenth century life through reference to a
historical figure. ‘Ist at the same time it destroys the illusion that
the Qantggpggzuzglgg are a transcription of the actual. The mention of
the post brings firmly to mind that Chaucer, "rymyng craftily,” is the
creator of the work. The reader is of course amused to find the author
criticised by a personage who, for the time being, has taken on his own
life and is seemingly out of the poet's control. On one level the
pilgrimage as reality has become independently "real," referring to
reality outside itself, and becoming equivalent to that exterior world.
On a second level these artistic efforts to attain vsrisimilitude recall
attention to the fact that the work is an artistic one and only imitates
reality. Through careful manipulation of persona and personages, Chaucer
stresses both the artificiality and the autonomy of his work.

In the Epilogue of the Man of Law‘s Tale the Host calls upon the
Parsen for a tale, and does as with one of his more sizeable outbreaks
of swearing:

e . . ”Goods men, herkeneth sverychon!

This was a thrifty tale for the nones!

Sir Parisshs Prest," qued be, "for Goddes bones,

Tells us a tale, as was thi forward yore.

I as wel that ye lerned men in lore

, Can moche good, by Goddes dignitae!" (116h-1168)
The outburst is so habitual to the Host that he is no doubt shocked by
the Parson's response: "2222912131! / lhet eyleth the man, so synfully
to swore?" Never at a less for words, Bailly assumes the man is a

Lellard, a_:o11eeer of the reformer Wyclif. With another oath, "for

Goddes digne passionn," he predicts a sermon. It was common te labil

127
any grumbler a Lollard in the fourteenth century, for Wyclif and his
sect were regarded primarily as that, although it is not absolutely
clear as to whether Chaucer refers to the Parson as a Loller-Lollard-
or a loller-grumbler. The accusation by the Best is conventional,
but at the same time establishescontemporaneity. The lines, as so
often happens in the end-links, tell more of’Harry Bailly than of the
Parson. It is unlikely that Chaucer intended the Parson to be a Lollard-
although he does advocate some, but not the prime tenets of the sect-
for he is the pilgrim who draws the exegetical parallels between the
Canterbury pilgrimage and the Journey to the Heavenly Jerusalem. It
is also unlikely that Chaucer would support a Lollard, since the
chliffites had already been condemned as heretics. From any point of
view, however, Harry Bailly emerges tarnished by his lack of courtesy
and abundant swearing.

The Wife of Bath's long monologue opens Fragment III. Since it
comprises more an autobiography than a link in the pilgrimage, it will
be discussed in the following chapter. As she closes her meandering
confession, Chaucer foreshadows the coming quarrel of Summoner and
Friar:

And whan the Somonour herds the Frsre gale,

"Lo,” qued the Somonour, "Goddes arses two!

A frere wol entremette hym eversmo.

Lo, goods men, a flye and eek a frere

lol falls in every dyssh and eek mateere.

What spekestow of perambulacioun?

Ihat! amble, or trette, or pess,.or go sit doun!

Thou.lettest ours disport in this manere.! (III. 833-839)

The Summoner in these insults not only motivates the satiric exchanges

to follow, but hints at his own ecatological revelation of the friar's

destined place in hell, equating friars with flies in their presence

128

around "every dyssh and eek meters." Chaucer takes the opportunity to
make fun of the Summoner's small learning, already satirically exposed
in the General Prologue, by setting the entire quarrel in motion through
the Summonerfs misunderstanding of the Friar's use of "perambulacioun."
This is only the first of a series of incidents in the iglgg based on the
misunderstanding or mispronunciation of words. Harry Bailly is notori-
ous in this respect, especially in his forays into the terminology of
other disciplines. The Summoner continues only to betray his misunder-
standing in the superbly colloquial line, "lhat! amble, or trotte, or
pess, or go sit doun!" He vividly expresses his irate impatience with
the Friar's constant commentary, or "glancing" of the text. Even the
Iife of Bath, whose monologue has been interrupted, takes shots at the
friars in the opening lines of her tale.

Drama in the pilgrimage turns to overt antagonism as the Friar and
the Summoner quarrel an the conclusion of Alice's tale.

This worthy lymytour, this noble Erere,

He made alway a manor louryng chiere

Upon the Sumonour, but for honestee

Ne vileyns word as yet to hym spak he. (1265-1268)
The Friar remains careful not to speak to him, but reminds Alice that
"Us nedeth nat to spoken but of game" (1275). The pointed reference to
the game topos belies his intent, for he proceeds to attack summoners
before the company:

Pardee, ye may wel knowe by the name

That of a somonour may no good he sayd;

I prays that moon of you be yvele apayd.

A somonour is a rennere up and doun

'ith mandementz for fornicacioun,

And is ybet at every townes ends. (1280-1285)
Obviously the noble, worthy, honest Friar will not speak in game. We

discover those liberally-applied adJectives to be laden with irony, an

129
irony which reflects both on the Friar-and on the narrgtcr who has made
the value Judgments.

The Summoner retaliates with a brilliant but foul-mouthed satire
on flattering friars.

This Somonour in his styropes hye stood;

Upon the Frere his herte was so wood

That lyk an aspen leef he quook for ire. (1665-166?)

Beyond this brief description, Chaucer lets the quarrel speak for itself.
The dispute, augmented by interruptions of both tales, is yet another
instance of Chaucer's integrating the tales and.the frame story. The
pilgrims spar literally in the end-links and literarily in their tales.
The disputes keep alive an interest in the pilgrimage by presenting
dramatically the reactions of the pilgrims and thus providing the

reader yet another level for enjoyment. One may read the tale merely
for its own sake, but may also read it with a critical eye to its
ostensible audience.

Fragment IV opens with the Clerk's tale. This end-link does
nothing to advance the pilgrimage, but reinforces the Clerk's character
as painted by the narrator in the General Prologue. The Clerk shows ‘
himself extremely academic in documenting the source of his tale and
offering his own literary criticism of it by way of introduction. It
is interesting to note that the Clerk's criticisms are limited to the
”prohemye" which Petrarch "enditeth" in ”heigh stile," and which the
Clerk omits as "impertinent." He does not touch upon the standard
modern objections to the tale's capricious motivations and fairy tale
atmosphere.

If we learn about anyone in the Clerk's prologue, it is the gre-

Sarious Harry Bailly. He is consistent_with past conduct in addressing

130
the Clerk in as polite language as he knows, but he does not hesitate
to state his preferences:

Tells us some myrie tale by yours fey!

For what man that is entred in a pieyo

He nodes moot unto the ploy assente.

But precheth mat, as freres does in Lents,

To make us for ours olde synnes wepe,

Ne—that thy tale make us net to slope.

Tells us som muris thyng of aventures.

Yours termes, yours colours, and yours figures,

Keeps hem in stoor til so be that ye esdite

Heigh style, as whan that men to kynges write.

Spoketh so pleyn at this tyme, we yow preys,

That we may understands what ye seye. (IV. 9-20)

The Best's rhetorical terms are limited, and we begin to suspect that
his literary tastes are likewise limited. He fears a dull, clerkish
tale, punctuated by dull, clerkish footnotes.

The Clerk.is capable of livening his footnotes, however, as we see
at the end of his tale in his gentle humor at the expense of the life of
Bath. The Host requested a "murie tale," not a lesson, and since the
Clerk has indeed presented a moral tale, he forswears its moral purpose.
He puts himself out of reach of the life of Bath and "a1 hire sect,"
and is free to make fun of her by understating the disclaimed moral:

But o word, lordynges, herkneth er I go:

It were ful hard to fynde newts-dayes

In al a toun Grisildis thre or two. (1163-1165)

He can also reintroduce the wife's "sentence," women's sovereignty in
marriage, in a song which countsnances all the life's methods, in style
and sarthy_imagery reminiscent of Alison herself. lhsn the "archewife,"
strong as "a greet camaille," pierces her-husband'sbmeaatwith arrows of
her "crabbed eloquence," he shall surely know "wepyng and waylyng, care
and oother sorwe." V .

The Merchant takes up the story, but with a great change of mood,

to present the husband's side of the picture. In contrast to the Clerk's

131

prologue, in which the Clerk's personality is merely reinforced, the
Merchant's prologue introduces a new aspect of this prosperous-appearing
man. One cannot but wonder how much the Merchant's wife resembles the
life of Bath:

I have a wyf, the worsts that may be;

For thogh the feend to hire ycoupled were,

She wolde hym overmacche, I dar wel swers.

lhat sholde I yew reherce in special

Hir hye malice? She is a shrewe at al.

There is a long and large difference

Bitwix Grisildis grete pacience

And of my wyf the pasayng crueltee. (1218-1225)
we are really not given any description of the Merchant's wife. The com-
plaint consists entirely of the Merchant's attitudes towards her, and is
therefore a picture of himself. She is entirely a stock figure. lo are
certainly not prepared to hear that the Merchant has been married only
”thise monthes two"! Chaucer completely deflates the dignified personage
of the General Prologue with that remark. The small revelation will
net be augmented, the Merchant says: "Of myn owene sorwe, I For soery
herte, I telle may namoore" (12h3-12hh). The personal cry of his
Dwelogue keys as to look for the Merchant's story nonetheless. The tales
of the so-called Marriage Group are more personal than those satires of
the quarrsling couples, and Chaucer prepares us for each of them by some
glimpse into the life of the teller. The cheerful but sarcastic envoy
of the Clerk takes on an altogether different tone as we hear anguished
personal commentaries on questions concerning marriage.

The sorrows of the Merchant and of January surprisingly strike a
responsive chord is the Host, although he misses the important points of
the tale, interpreting it in the light of his own marital situation:

Lo, swiche sleightes and subtilitses
In wommen been! for ay as bisy as bees

132

Been they, us sely men for to deceyve,

And from the soothe evere wol they weyvs;

By this Marchauntes tale it preveth weel.

But doutelees, as trees as any steel

I have a wyf, though that she povre be,

But of’hir tongs, a labbyng shrewe is she,

And yet she hath an heep of vices mo;

Therof no fore! lat alle swich thynges go. (2421-2A30)

This first outbreak of several concerning Harry Bailly's wife adds depth
only to the Heat's personality, for it says little about his wife. so
have, up to this point, observed his manner with gentlesuand peasants,
his literary tastes (often sub-literary), his general bossiness, and his
concern that no time be wasted. To keep interest in this amazing
character from flagging, Chaucer lets us enter the ironic situation of
his married life, albeitkonsesidedly. Though he may speak lordly as a
king to his charges on the road, we find him meek as a maid at home, and
net liking to think about it too often.

In the tales of the so-called Marriage Group Chaucer is especially
skillful at presenting the solemn discussion of a problem important to
all the pilgrims in an informal, mimetic way. Mimeeis is achieved
through dialogue-through the use of echo, colloquial figures, and
through many insights which serve to reveal character. The problem is
posed and observations are presented from many sides, both through the
tales and through the commentary of the end-links, but the informality
of the road-aids discussion is at all times preserved. It is also
worth noting that the Host, who as a valuable non-teller of tales never
makes an impersonal, formal pronouncement of his viewpoint, does not
enter the dialogue in interaction with the pilgrims. Rather he remains
raised on the edges of the discussion, reacting, but not interacting.
His comments in this section of the gall; are more musings to himself

than dialogue with his fellows. The subject ef the Marriage Group

133
strikes very close to home, and the Host, though obviously concerned,
tries not to think too seriously of his problems.

Fragment V is introduced by a cursory exchange between Host and
Squire. The Squire's seemingly interminable tale breaks off or is
possibly interrupted by the Franklin's praises of the Squire and subse-
quent disparagement of his own son:5

_ "I have a sons, and by the Trinitee,

I hadde levers than twenty pound worth lend,

Though it right now were fallen in my hand,

He were a man of swich discrecioun

As that ye been! Fy on possessionn,‘

But if a man be vertuous withal!

I have my sons snybbed, and yet_shal,

For he to vertu lesteth nat entende;

But for to plays at does, and to despende

And less al that he hath, is his usage.

And he hath levers talken with a page

Then to commune with any gentil wight

Where he myghts lerne gentillesse aright."

"Straw for yours gentillesse!" qued cure Hoest. (V. 682-695)

The Franklin of the General Prologue is presented as an exemplar of the
lifestyle of the affluent country freeholder. His words to the Squire
particularise the man. ‘Ws learn more of his attitudes, particularly of
his concern for "gentillesse"-that magic quality of courtliness which
defies modern English translation-and of his treatment of his son. The
Franklin is a generic type of the father; disappointed in his own son's
attitudes which are different from his own ("he hath levers talken with a
page”), he snubs him to pour praises on the Squire. The Squire's‘
reactions are not detailed, but he is no doubt accutely embarrassed. In
this vignette we see "Bpicurus owene son” pictured in a home situation~
which is not immediately related to the table. The Host, inpatient
with "gentillesse" and all its connotations, interrupts rudely, but the
Franklin merely replies in an overly polite, formal, and slightly

injured tone to the Heat's arrogant demand that he "Tells on [his] tale

13h
withouten wordes mo":

”Gladly, sire Hoest." qued he, "I wole obeys

Unto your wyl; now herkneth what I says.

I wol yew nat contrarien in no wyss

As for as that my wittes wol suffyse.

I prey to God that it may piesen yow;

Thanne woot I wel that it is good ynow." (703-708)

The Franklin's actions support his understanding.of his professed
~belief} His character is revealed in his retreat from potential conflict,
an action which is also central to his tale. But the Franklin's under-
standing of "gentillesse" is open to question.‘ It would seem to be
limited, on the basis of the General Prologue sketch, the exchange in
the end-links, and his tale, to a hybrid politeness and hospitality,
i.e. to externals. The values so strongly upheld by the Knight-truth
honor, justice-have no apparent place in the Franklin's understanding.
He believes in no absolutes, as we see in his own comments on the action
in his tale:

Paraventurs an heep of yew, ywis,

lol holden hym a lowed man in this

That he wol putts his wyf in Jupartie.

Hsrkneth the tale er ye upon hire crie.

She may have bettre fortune than yew semeth;

And whan that ye han herd the tale, demeth. (1h93-1h98)

The Franklin emerges as a'pggygnn,who is under compulsion to display his '
wealth in fine foods and fine words, but who really has little idea as
to the true meaning of "gentillesse."

The Physician's Tale opens Fragment VI without other preface. The
Host is so moved by the tale that he breaks into a stream of imprecations
unequalled thus far in the Talsg: "Ours Hooste gun to swore as he were
wood" (v1. 287). By blood, by nails, by "corpus bones" he damnsjudge,
lawyers, nature, and Fortune for_Virginia!e demise. The passage is

ironic in its odd juxtapositionxof the Heat's questionable piety, his

135
critical evaluation of the tale, and his peacock-proud misuse of
medical terms. The Best's inordinate swearing is ironically self-
condemnatory following a tale which turns on a suborned witness. His
criticism as usual misses the point, and his "prayer" for the Physician
is humorously blasphemous: '

I pray to God so save thy gentil cors,
And eek thyme urynals and thy Jurdones,
Thyn ypocras, and eek thy galiones.

And every boyste ful of thy letuarie;

God blesse hem and cure lady Seinte Marie!

So meet I theen, thou art a propre man,

And lyk a prelat, by Saint Ronyan!

Seyde I nat vol? I kan nat speke in terse;

But wel I wot thou doost myn herte to arms,

That I almoost have caught a cardynacle. (30h-313)
The Host preens himself with a mock-disparagament of his talents: "seyde
I nat wel? I kan nat spoke in terse." His lack is all too obvious, and
Chaucer reintroduces the mispronunciation topos to further expose the
Best's "lewednesse" and pretension. Beginning vith "corpus bones" the
Host proceeds through a.Jungle of questionable medical lore. His use or
all his medical terminology in a dozen lines borrows from the narrator's
technique or the General Prologue. The narrator uses it as a sort or
local color; Harry Bailly's use is self-serving, and also exposes his

pretentious misinformation. The‘Host likes to hear himself talk, and

carries on for that express purpose. Again, his remarks convey small
sense of dialogue eith the pilgrims.

The Pardoner is called upon for a tale of "myrthe or Japes," but
the "gentils" of the group have been pushed rather far with fabliaux:

in, m hym telle us or no ribaudye!

Tells us sem moral thyng, that we may leere

8cm tit, and thannehwo1.ve gladly heore. (3Zu-326)
The "gentles" respond generically to the anticipated harlotry. and while

no one is singled out, the reader knows by new vho objects and who

136
anticipates the expected tale with approbation. The Pardoner, unques-
tionably not one of the "gentles," bows to the pressure:

"I graunte, ywis," cued he, *but I meet thynke
Upon son honest thyng while that I drynke." (327-528)

He proceeds to entrance but not to trick them with a story of his
operating methods and a choice exemplum. The monologue is confessional,
but constantly serves the Phrdoner's desire to sell his pardons. The
monologue and some suggestions concerning its reception by the pilgrims
will be discussed in the following chapter.

‘Iet another clash among the pilgrims erupts at the close of the
Pardoner's tale. The most violent in the Tales, it is dramatically
expressed and fully motivated. The Host, insulted by the Phrdoner's
Judgment that he is "moost envoluped in synne,fl is righteously angry
that this man, so recently confessed of his one driving passion--
avarice-ashould presume to Judge him. Harry Bailly's insults are
scatological but nonetheless humorous in their touching the Pardoner's
weakness:

Thou.woldest make me kisse thyn olde breech,

And swore it were a relyk of a seint,

Though it were with thy fundament depeint!

But by the croys which that Saint Bleyne fond,

I wolde I hadde thy coillons in my hond

In stide of relihesror seintuarie.

Lat kutte hem of, I wol thee helps hem carie;

They ahul be shryned in an hogges toord! (9h8-955)

The Pardoner answers not a word: "So wrooth he was, no word wolde he
seye." The fifibst, perhaps surprised at his own vindictiveness, pretends
be u. soloing:

"New," qued oure Boost, "I wol no lenger pleye

Iith thee, me with neon oother angry man." (958-959)

But even the game topos cannot make peace between them. Appropriately,

it is one of "thise gentils," the Knight, who returns order to the

137
group. The vividness of this passage inheres in Chaucer's management
of motiuation, the resultant anger, and skillful 9933 g; m delivered
by the Host. A certain effect is also contributed by the shock value
of the Heat's reply, the vehemence of which foreshadows his fears, to be
expressed shortly, that he may kill a man in anger some day.

We see other manifestations of the Host's temper, but Chaucer does
not let us forget entirely his more polite aspects. Harry Bailly is no
Wrath-figure, yet he is hardly a gentlemanly figure either. He addresses
the Prioress in as courtly a tone as he can:

My lady Prioresse, by yours leve,

So that I wiste, I sholde yow'nat grove,

I wolde demon that ye tellen sholde

A tale next, if so were that ye wolde.

New wol ye vouche sauf, my lady deere? (##6-450)

The Host is comic in his welter of subjunctives, and his efforts at
gentility indeed prove clumsy. The Prioress and the Knight are the only
pilgrims he does not in any way insult, and his awkward but studied
politeness to them pointedly betrays his typical speech.

The typical for Harry Bailly ranges from the Jocular ribbing of his
address to Chaucer to the tasteless obscenity of his remarks to the Monk
and lun's Priest. To Chaucer he says:

"What man artow?n qued he;

"Thou lookest as thou woldest fynde an hare,

For evere upon the ground I so thee stare.

Approche near, and looks up nurily.

New war yew, sires, and lat this man have place!

He in the waast is shape as wel as I;

This were a popet in an arm t'embrace

For any womman, smal and fair of face.

He semeth elvyssh by his contenaunce,

For unto no wight death he daliaunce." (695-70h)

The passage characterizes both pilgrim and Host physically. The poet

described all butLhis own persona in the General Prologue, reouiring

138
the reader to piece his personality together from attitudes expressed
towards the other pilgrims and from direct comments to the reader. Here
he puts his own description into Harry Bailly's mouth. The physical
similarity of the men-"He in the waast is shape as wel as I"-is ironic;
their temperaments are most unlike. The one is creator of the work; the
other thinks he runs the show.

The poet and persons merge as Chaucer tells of Sir Thopas. The
identifying of the two serves to put the Host at a definite disadvantage
when he interrupts Chaucer after only one Fit. The "deyntee thyng" is
too refined for his comprehension. As the Host intensifies his earthy
and inexpert criticism, playing the analyst at his own expense, Chaucer
retreats more and more into his shell of naivet‘ and hurt pride:

"Iamoore of this, for Goddes dignitee,”

Quod cure Boosts, "for thou makest me

So wary of thy verray lowednesse

That, also wisly God my soule blesse,

Hyne eres aken of thy drasty speche.

New swich a rym the devel I biteche!

This may wel be rym dogerel," qued he.

“Why so?" qued I, "why wiltow lette me

Moore of my tale than another man,

Syn that it is-the bests rym I kan?"

"By God,” qued he, "for pleynly, at.a word,

Thy drasty rymyng is net worth a toord!

Thou doost noght elles but despendest tyne." (919-931)

The Host has appeared in these roles of amateur critic and keeper of the
time before. As critic he appreciates fabliaux and simple moral tales.
For the nobility of tragedy and the sophistication of burlesque he has
no respect. He is typically loud and assertive in his deprecation of
Sir Thopas, Just as he is of the Monk's Tale. But he dares not attack
the tragedies of the Honk until the Knight halts the tale. Chaucer is a
figure of such seemingly small import that Harry Bailly willingly

interrupts him.

139

Chaucer of course has the final word; in an elaborate spoof he
promises a "litel thyng in prose," a "litel tretys," a ”trebys lite,"
and a "murye tale." While Chaucer's readers no doubt found the Melibee
less wearisone than we do, Harry Bailly surely could not help feel his
"eres aken" after a few thousand lines of Prudence's proverbial precepts.
He dare not, however, attach this work of stern morality. 7

Even if Harry Bailly learns nothing from the work, it prompts him
to speak again at some length of his own marital situation. The Heat's
reactions to the tales have up to this point been uniformly those of a
bourgeois critic who appreciates only the gross and the simple. Here he
slips from the conventional response to one which is individual as he
reflects that Goodelief is no Prudence.

By Goddes bones! whan I bets my knaves,

She bryngeth so forth the grete clobbed staves,

And crieth, "Slee the dogges everichoon,

And brek hem, both bak and every been!" (1897-1900)

I woot wel she wel do me else can day,

Boa neighebor, and thanne go my way;

For I am perilous with knyf in bonds,

Al be it that I’dar nat hire withstands,

For she is byg in armes, by my feith:

That shal he fynde that hire mysdooth or seith. (1917-1922)
This picture of the loquacious, manly Harry Bailly alternately cowed
and incensed by his wife, comes to the reader as an ironic revelation.
Ie begin to suspect that his eagerness to conduct the pilgrims to
Canterbury, his taste for lusty tales, and his brash profanity are all
means of escape from a life harried by Goodelief. Ihen he does mention
her, he makes an unspoken plea for the sympathy of the pilgrims.
Melancholy in this situation, Bailly does not like to think of her;
every mention ends with a brusque change of subject: "But lat us passe

away fro this mateere." Again, we are given no picture of his wife.

11.0

We merely hear the Best "on" his wife, and, as before, she remains a type
of the shrew.

Bailly's change of subject is invariably to one of ribaldry. The
Host says to the Monk:

'Haddestow as great a leave, as thou hast wght,

To parfourne al thy lust in engendrure,

Thou baddest bigoten ful many a creature.

Allan, why werestow so wyde a cope?

God yeve me sorwe, but, and I were a pope,

Nat oonly then, but every awghty man,

Though he were shorn ful hye upon his pen,

.Sholde have a wyf; for al the world is lorn!

Religioun hath take up al the corn

Of tredyng, and we borel men been shrympes.

0f fieble trees ther comen wrecched ympes.

This maketh that cure wyves wole assaye

Religious folk, for ye mews bettre paye

0f Venus paiements than mowe we. (19116-1961)
The remarks are made in the spirit of those concerning traveling sales-
men in this century; their genesis is conventional. They are nonetheless
in poor taste and reveal more of the speaker than they do of the flank.
In fact they reveal nothing of the Honk beyond the fact that he is indeed
the "manly man" of the narrator's estimation in the General Prologue.
The Host obviously perceives him as worldly and lascivious. By this
time we should be suspicious of Bailly's value judgments even more
than we may be of the narrator's naivetb. The picture of the Honk in
the General Prologue is that of the hunting cleric; he is a man who has
made religion his professionwand though he an lose sight of asceticism,
he seemsto enjoy the business which surrounds him. The Heat's
lascivious cleric is present only in the form of the potential pun on
"venerie." The estimates of both narrator and Host reveal the mind of
the perceiver—the one naive, the other obscene—and neither is wholly

accurate if we accept the Monk's tale as somehow representative of the

man. The Monk's tragedies add one important element to his character:

1A1
he is also something of a humanist scholar; his love of pleasure extends
to the higher intellectual pleasures of literature. The man is worldly
indeed. He presents one of literature's noblest forms, the tragedy. He
does not concern himself with humble saints' lives, just as he ignores
the ascetic rules of the cloister and the undignified and crude remarks
‘ of the Host. Though reproved by the Knight, the Honk refuses to join the
ranks of the ggppliptgg. He rather retreats to his own isolation and
from that lofty position looks down on the company.

The exchange between the Knight, Host, and Honk discovers the
Knight's literary tastes and reinforces the Heat's total lack of any
taste whatsoever. It is ironic that Harry Bailly attacks the Honk only
after the Knight has criticized his tragedies; the Heat's manner is so
lacking in courtesy that his criticisms redound only upon his own empty-
headadness. The Knight's tastes are what we might today describe as
bourgeois; he likes the happy ending of happy tales:

. . . litel hevynesse

Ia right ynough to muche folk, I geese.

Ilsaye for me, it is a greet disese,

lhereas men han been in greet welthe and ese,

To heren of hire sodeyn fal, allas!

And the contrarie is joye and greet solas,

As whan a man hath been in povre estaat,

And clymbeth up and wexeth fortunat,

And there abideth in prosperitee.

Swich thyng is gladsom, as it thynketh me,

And of swich thyng were goodly for to telle. (2769-2779)

The comments of the Host contain not even this much substance:

Yours tale anoyeth al this compaigmya.

Swich talkyng is nat worth a boterflye,

For therinne is ther no disport no game . . .

For sikerly, nere clynkyng of yours belles,

That on yours bridal hangs on every syde,

By hevene kyng, that for us alle dyde,

I sholde or this ban fallen doun for sleep. (2789-91; 9h-9?)

The rudeness of the Best's speech is marvellously tempered by the

IhZ

mixture of colloquialism, humor, and profanity with which it is expressed.
we may dislike his personality, but we do not tire of hearing him speak.

Brushed off by the Honk who refuses to speak of hunting, no doubt
because Harry requested it, the Host addresses the Nun's Priest "with
rude specha and boold":

Com user, then preest, com hyder than air John!

Tells us swich thyng as may cure hertes,glade.

Be blithe, though thou ryde upon a jade.

Ihat thogh thyn here be bothe foul and lens?

If he wol serve thee, rake nat a bone. (2810-281h)
The "sweet preset," humbler thantthe Monk, takes no offense at these
contemptuous words. Harry Bailly is cowed by neither the Monk's cold
dignity nor the Priest's humble acquiescence; there is no stopping his
coarseness. Ha expresses his approbation of the tale in what seems the
only terms he knows, unless we recall hisawkward address to the Prioress,
to whom he speaks "make as a seyde." There is no meekness new:

I-blessed be thy breche, and every stoon!

This was a murie tale of Chauntecleer.

But by my treuthe, if thou were seculer,

Thou woldest been a trede-foul aright.

For if then have corage as thou hast myght,

Thee were nede of hennas, as I wene,

Ta, moo than seven tymes seventene. (3hh8-545h)
we see the Nun's Priest through the Best's eyes in these remarks. The
lines closely echo the Best's remarks to the Honk, but with entirely
different effect. When spoken to the Honk, the traveling salesman
remarks dalude the reader into thinking, on the basis of the Best's
jocularity, that we will indeed hear another fabliau. The reader is
deceived, perhaps nearly as much as Harry Bailly. Spoken after the
Nun's Priest's Tale the lines again reflect Bailly's coarseness, for
the reader already has a good idea what sort of man the priest is, on

the basis of his prefatory remarks and the clever and sophisticated

143
tale he tells. The remarks serve once again to illustrate the Host's
crudity and misjudgment of the people supposedly in his charge. He
judges solely on appearance: the priest is another "manly man," and no
doubt is treated as the Prioress! doormat; therefore Bailly feels
licensed to joke with the Priest at the Priest's expense. While the
lines may well be meant as a backhanded compliment, they are unkind by
any standards and tell us more about Harry Bailly's mind than about
the Priest.

The pilgrimage acquires a new member at Boghton under Blee, and the
narrator describes the incident vividly and dramatically. The sweaty
whirlwind arrival of Canon and‘feoman is artistically effective, both
descriptively and thematically, for it prefigures the revelations con-
cerning the Canon's fiery and futile trade. The narrator, in his wide-
eyed, naive way, is much struck with wonder at the sudden arrival, and
is especially delighted by the foam on the horses and the perspiration
running in rivulets down both man. His descriptive language quickly
moves from wonder to sophistication however, as he makes use of alchemi-
cal diction to describe the scene:

it Boughtoun under Blee us gan stake

A.man that clothed was in clothes blake,

And under-nethe he hadde a whyt surplys.

His hakeney, that was a1 pomely grys,

So swatte that it wonder was to see;

It semed as he had priked miles three.

The hora eek that his yeman rood upon

So swatte that unnethe myghte it gon.

Aboute the peytrel stood the_foom fyl hye;

He was of foam al flekked as a pye. (VIII. 556-565)

For he hadde riden score than trot or peas;

He hadde ay priked lik as he were wood.

1 clota-leef he hadde under his hood

For sweet, and for to keep his heed from heete.

But it was joye for to seen hym swete!

His ferhead dropped as a stillaterie,
Iere ful of plantayne and of paritorie. (575-581)

1th

The cabbage leaf worn for coolness is hardly appropriate to the April
setting, but nonetheless, along with the many references to the sweating
horses and riders, it adds a realistic touch to the scene. This, along
with the narrator's limited point of view, creates a wonder and curiosity
in the reader much like that of Chaucer's persona. Given no clues to the
identity of the new arrivals, or the outcomes of their appearance, the
reader must follow the dramatic exchanges of conversation along with the
narrator and the other pilgrims. The situation is presented as it
"actuallyhappened"; Chaucer is of course in control and knows the out-
come, but his narrator persona's handling of detail and discourse com-
pletely removes the post from the reader's attention.

Chaucer piques his reader's interest before satisfying it through the
Yaoman's ambiguous and ironic statements about his master:

And ye hym knowe as wel as do I,

Is wolde wondre how wel and craftily

He koude works, and that in sondry wise.

He hath take on hym many a greet emprise,

lhich war ful hard for any that is heore

To brynge aboute, but they of hym it leere.

As hoomly as he rit amonges yow,

If ya hym knowe, it wolde be for yours prow.

Ye wolde nat forgoon his aqueytaunce

For muchel good, I dar lays in balaunce

Al that I have in my possessions.

He is a man of heigh discrecioun;

I warne yew wel, he is a pasayng man. (602-61h)
The "warning" contains the dual ironies of the‘Ieoman's having practically
no possessions at all and the neatly disguised reference to the Canon's
fraud. The disclosure that the Canon can "al clene turns [Canterbury]
up—so-doun, / And pave it al of silver and gold" at first takes in even
Harry Bailly, but he soon recovers his equilibrium to inquire,

lhy is thy lord so sluttish, I the preys,

And is of power bettre clooth to bays,
If that his dede accords with thy speche? (636-638)

1#5

He also wants to know why the Yeoman's face is so discolored. Thus
the Heat's incredulity and curiosity invites the exposure of the Canon
by his profitless helpmate. In the interests of verisimilitude the
Canon himself must be disposed of. His departure is logical enough.
Chaucer's description is more bookish than realistic, but the psychology
behind it is sound:

‘hil this‘feman was thus in his talkyng,

This Chanoun drough hym near, and herde al thyng

Which that this Yeman spak, for suspecioun

Of mennes speche evere hadde this Chanoun.

For Catoun seith that he that gilty is

Demeth alle thyng be spoke of hym ywis. (68h-689)

And whan this Chanoun saugh it wolde nat bee,

But his‘Ieman wolde tells his pryvetee,

He fledde away for verray sorwe and shame. (700-702)
Unable to halt his'Yeoman's exposé, the suspicious Canon flees. The
Yeoman is of course goaded in by the Host who is always keen to hear

some juicy scandal:

. . . telle on, what so bityde,
or all his thretyng rekke mat a note! (697-698)

The servant-master quarrel which leads to an exposure of the master's
wrongdoings becomes a popular literary motif in later years.

Of the tale which follows, the first part is really a monologue
exposing the collaboration of Canon and Yeoman and the tricks they use
to extort gold from others. It will be discussed with the other
monologues in the following chapter. The second half, the actual tale,
likewise exposes the alchemist, but under the guise of fiction. The
three portions of the episode-the prologue or encounter, the monologue,
and the tale proper-are among the most consistently motivated and
realistic portions of the pilgrimage. More than any other occurrence

on the trip, this incident is presented dramatically. we know

—1 In 5. .thV

 

1h6
absolutely nothing of these characters until they unfold themselves, by
means of the narratorts comments and their own dialogue. The presentation
is at first that of pure externals; gradually the characters reveal
themselves through irony. By allowing the new figures to interrupt the
heretofore closed pilgrimage, Chaucer permits the world outside his
immediate focus to reassert its presence. This in turn reinforces the
illusion that Chaucer is merely reporting, for his psrsona's wonder at
the new figures is as great as that of any of his other characters.
Moreover it varies the usual programme insofar as he is not basing the
incident on the characteristics of personages we have met in the General
Prologue. The other episodes of the end-links require some prior
knowledge on the part of the reader; here Chaucer puts us on an equal
plane with himself, and we learn only as his persona learns.

Fragment IX opens with the Cook napping on horseback. "Attheef
nyghte hym ful lightly robbe and bynde," says the Host. The Hanciple
takes the occasion to make fun of him, although his moralizing is
singularly bourgeois, even noxious. The Hanciple paints a conventional
picture of the slothful drunkard, reminiscent of Langland's Sloth, but
he intersperses colorful exclamations and direct address to keep the
reprimand alive:

See how he ganoth, 10! this dronken wight,

As though he wolde swolwe us anonright.

Hoold cloos thy mouth, man, by thy fader kyn!

The devel of bells sette his foot therin! (IX. 35-38)

Langland's Sloth is similar:
Thanne come sleuthe al bislabersd with two slymy sighen,

"I most sitte," seyde the segge "or elles shulde I nappe;

I may noughte stonde ne stoupe no with-outs a stole knale."“

The Cook, from sleepiness, drunkenness, and ire,-finally does fall in

the slough

147

Where as he lay, til that men hym up took.

This was a fair chyvachee of a cook!

Allas! he nadde holde hym by his ladel!

And er that he agayn were in his sadel,

Ther was greet showvyng both to and fro

To lifts hym up, and muchel care and wo,

So unweeldy was this sorry palled goost. (h9-55)

We see a rare superciliousness in the narrator's "This was a fair chyva-
chee of a cook!" The description of the rescue is hardly realistic in
concrete detail, but is ironically humorous, indicating enough "shovyns
to and fro" to move a hogshead, not a "sory palled goost."

For once the Host, in a very negative reaction, takes the side of
the underdog, reminding the Manciple that the Cook will not treat him
kindly for his harsh words. For the Hanciple has pointed out to the
company the Cook's pale face, glazed eyes, sour breath (twice), and
lusty disposition. The Manciple can, however, prove himself possessor
of that craft so admired by Chaucer's persona in the General Prologue,
for the Cook is appeased by a draught of good wine. The Host thereupon
waxes poetic in praise of sins:

. . . I se wel it is necessarie,

lhere that we goon, good drynke with us carie;

For that wol turns rancour and disese

T' acord and love, and many a wrong spams.

0 thou Bacus, yblessed be thy name,

That so kanst turnen ernest into game!

Worshipe and thank be to thy deitee! (95-101)

We might wel turn Harry Bailly's own words against him to exclain, "The
devel made a Boost for to preche!" The Best's panacea is fraught with
bitter irony, since drunkenness causes the dispute in the first place,
and the irony deepens in the light of the Parson's Tale, ehich soon
follows.

The band approaches Canterbury, and Chaucer pauses momentarily to

remind us once more of the passage of time:

MB
The sonns fro the south lyne was descended
So love that he was net, to my sights,
Degrees nyne and twenty as in highte.
Foure of the clokke it was the, as I games,
For ellevene foot, or litel score or lesse,
Hy shadws was at thilke tyne, as there,
Of swiche feet as my lengthe parted were
In six feet equal of proporcioun.
Therwith the scenes exaltacicun,

I meene Libra, alway gan ascends,
As we were entryng at a thropes ends. (X. 2-12)

The passage completely lacks logic. The time and computations are
scrupulously recorded, but the "scones exaltacioun," carefully and
confusedly qualified-"I meene Libra,”-has little to do with either
four o'clock or'the "thropes ends." The words are the narrator's;
they reflect equally on his own earnest concern for getting things
right, and on Harry Bailly's manic worry about the passing time, for
of course the Host follows these observations with comments of his own:

"Telleth," qued he,"youre meditacioun.

But hasteth yew, the sonns wole adoun;

Beth fructuous, and that in litel space." (69-71)
Harry Bailly remains always the same, hoping for fables told in "litel
space." He will find.his way on the "glorious pilgrymsge" also in
"litel space," no doubt with much of the Hanciple's wine. Harry Bailly
is a figure of the secular world, and in the Parson's Prologue we see
the contrast of secular and sacred. The Host swears and Japes as usual;
the Parson speaks exegetically. Having refused all along to Join the
pilgrims in their Japes, he refuses to Join them new.

But trusteth wel, I am a Southren man,

I kan nat geeste 'rum, ram, ruf,‘ by lettre,

Is, God woot, rym holde I but litel bettre . . .

And Jhesu, for his grace, wit me sende

To shew yow the way, in this viage,

Of thilke parfit glorious pilgrymage

That highte Jerusalem celestial. (kZ-hh: hB-SI)

The temporal and spiritual levels of the ggntggppzyflzglgg come

“+9

together in the Prologue to the Parson's Tale. The Parson rejects the
rhymes and alliterative meter of Harry Bailly's world and turns to the
celestial Jerusalem. The Boat is left with the hours and the tales of
the world, while the Parson departs for spiritual regions. The cut...
bury pilgrimage contains within it the potential for the journey to
Jerusalem. The spiritual and the temporal are not at odds here, or at
any other point in medieval art_and literature, as Dvorak reminds us:

Idealism and.naturalism [or the spiritual and temporal] appear

here not as irreconcilable opposites but as an illustration of

St. Thomas's notion of ggnggngntigp-a valid criterion for the

world of Gothic figures.
The temporal prefigures the eternal which is its fulfillment. The
existence of a higher level of meaning in the W 23;” in no
way discredits or makes less meaningful the transitory, earthly, mimetic
level, however. is Auerbach states, .

. . . an occurrence on earth signifies not only itself but at

the same time another, which it predicts or confirms, without

prejudice to the power of its concrete reality here and now.
The fact that the emphasis changes from temporal to spiritual at the end
of the 953mm 251;. does not negate the temporal. If anything it
makes that major portion of the work which does deal with the earthly
life all the more notable, poignant, and mimetic by virtue of the
implicit contrast Ihich the reader perceives between the actual and the
ideal. The Canterbury pilgrimage is above all else presented as a
selection from actual life, a fictional "reality" from which spring
fictional "fictions." The spiritual concomitants are implied, but it
is not until the Parson's Tale that the relationship between temporal and
spiritual is made explicit.

If the portraits of the General Prologue may be said to represent

the MI. W of the W Sam, the end-links comprise

150
the drama proper. The gggtgpbpzz,gglgg is not dramatic in the strict
theatrical sense, of course, but is conceptually dramatic insofar as
Chaucer goes to great lengths to let the pilgrims tell and act the story.
Drama, after all, is the son of mimesis. The personages of the work
reveal themselves through words and actions with a minimum of commentary
from the author or his persons. The General Prologue is Composed
primarily of such commentary; it is mimetic insofar as the personages
sketched are made lifelike by the choice of concrete details and atti-
tudinal comments. Aside from Chaucer's comments on habitual actions,
the portraits are static. In the endvlinks the figures become active,
variously exemplifying, broadening, or confuting the statements made
about them earlier. The tale of the trip to Canterbury is not so much
narrative or chronicle as it is drama. That drama consists of tensions-
jealousies, disputes, discussions—presented through dialogue and
accompanied by a minimum of commentary and stage directions from the
narrator.
As narrator, Chaucer has abandoned the external role of manager of

the tales to that loquacious toastmaster, Harry Bailly. None of the
,carefully'contrived selection, qualification, and protestatiou of the
narrator of the 219113; appears in the gantgnggz,gglgg. By leaving
management of the pilgrimage to the Host, Chaucer's persons can step in
and out of the picture at will; nothing requires Chaucer to be present,
and indeed he becomes characterized by his pointed silence. is such

he can present a seemingly objective point of view; he need never feel
called upon to judge, and he has in Harry Bailly a toastmaster capable
of all managerial duties, and only too willing to do the judging. When

the narrator does enter the field of vision, he consistently keeps the

151

naive persona established for himself. This humble pose contributes to
the plausibility topos in the 233.33, for. the reader feels little reason to
doubt this unassuming figure. The fact that the narrator is occasionally
taken in by one of’his companions likewise contributes to his naiveth and
plausibility. When the narrator intrudes, it is always as a pilgrim.
This careful use of the persona contributes to the dramatic illusion of
the work. ‘

Plot and character development do not exist in any unified pattern
in the diffuse scenes which make up parts of the journey, but in the
many scenes of the end-links the reader's apprehension of the personages
of the General Prologue expands appreciably. The Host best exemplifies
this process of depth-characterization. Put in the position of command
by the pilgrims, Harry Bailly by turns jellies, bullies, coaxes, and
curses the pilgrims along to Canterbury. He is thus most useful as a
unifying force and a device for Chaucer's narrative management. We
also learn many things about this man from him commerce with his fellowb
travelers. His attitudes to different members of society are clearly
revealed in the deference, or more often, scorn of his address to them.
His amateurish literary criticism reveals his bourgeois and often base
tastes, and his musings tell volumes about his marital life. Harry
Bailly--innkseper, guide, supreme boss on the road, henpecked husband at
home, and guiding spirit of the Canterbury pilgrimage-is a man of many
traits, hardly a flat personation of any abstract concept.

The soul of Chaucer's dramatic presentation of the pilgrimage is
dialogue. Hisrmethod in the end-links is to work with pairs of pilgrims,
giving them opportunities to respond to a variety of issues ranging

from occupational concerns and jealousies, to marital felicity, to

152

questions of honor and personal taste. The pilgrims react not only to
the issue, but to one another. Pairs are singled out for combat, one
at a time. By keeping this focus, rather than panning the field,
Chaucer stresses the individual over the generic aspects of his subject,
even when the response of the individual happens to be a generic reaction,
as Harry Bailly's so often are. The narrator's careful focusing on
individuals is attloggerheads with the Heat's penchant for butting into
whatever is at hand. The Host's lack of discipline and control contri-
butes an overall atmosphere of confusion to the pilgrimage which con-
trasts nicely with the narrator's careful, if not always logical, focus
on individuals. The responses are never of one conceptual entity to
another concept; direct quotations retain natural speech rhythms, as
well as the homely imagery of farm, shop, or proverb, again reinforcing
the narrator's assertion that the work is a transcript of the actual.

Comparison of Chaucer's dialogue with that of his contemporaries
illustrates the naturalness which he achieves. Many examples from the
gantgzppgxuzalgg,could be chosen, but two will suffice:

lhat spekestow of preambulacioun?
What! amble, or trotte, or pass, or go sit doun! (III. 837-838)

"Why so?" qued I, "why wiltow lette me

Moore of my tale than another man,

Syn that it is the beats rym I kan?"

"By God," qued he, ”for pleynly, at a word,

Thy drasty rymyng is net worth a toord!

Thou doost noght elles but despendest tyme." (VIII. 926-931)
Chaucer includes exclamations, colloquialisms, ungrammatical ellipses,
meaningless phrases, all within the metric structure, to introduce the
illusion of actual speech; the ease with which the dialogue appears to
have been rhymed is one measure of the mimesis. Contrast the artificial-

ity of Gower's octosyllabics:

153

And sche ayein to him thus seide:
"Florent, if I for the so schape,

That thou thurgh me thi doth escape

And take worschipe of thi dede,

lhat schal I have to my nede?"

"That thing," qued he, "that thou wolt axe."
"I bidde nevere a bettre taxe,"

Quod sche, "bot ferst, er than be sped,
Thou schalt me love such a wedd,

That I wol have thi trowthe in bonds

Thou thou schalt be myn housebonde."
"Nay,” seith Florent, "that may noght be."
"Ryd thanne forth thi woy," qued she,

"And if than go withoute red,

Thou schalt be sekerliche ded."

Chaucer's pontameter of course gives him a roomy line in which to play
with the colloquialisms which give his dialogue its earthy, realistic
flavor. Gower contorts syntax to produce a formal romanticized diction,
which, even in the rare instances where he does approach dialogue, as
that above, reads stiffly and adds not a whit to the immediacy of
Florent or the Beldame. Even in Chaucer the octosyllabic line is
capable of transcribing lively dialogue. In the How 91 Em we hear

Chaucer and the Eagle:

"Soynte Marys!
Thou art noyous for to carye,
And nothyng nedeth it, pardee!
For, also wis God helpe me,
he then noon harm shalt have of this:
And this caas that betyd the is,
Is for thy lore and for thy prow:-
Let see! darst thou yet loke now?
Be ful assured, boldely,
I am thy frond." And therwith I
Gan to wondren in my mynds.
"O God!" thoughts I, "that madest kynde,
Shal I noon other weyes dye?
lher Jovss wol me stellyfye,
Or what thing may this aygnifye?" (573-585)

The passage typifies all that is Chaucerian, but we would hardly cell it
"realistic." The situation is, of course, completely impossible, but it

is nonetheless vivid in its comedy. Yet another masterful handling of

15h
dialogue maybe seen in the M W 21.51 by the Wakefield
master:

HAK. / Good wyff, open the hek! / Says thou not what I bryng?
VXOR. I may thole the dray the musk. / A, com in, my swetyng!
MAR. Iee, thou thar not rek / of my long standyng.
VXOR. By the nakyd nek / art thou lyke for to hyng.
we DO m!
I am worthy my mete;
For in a strate can I gett
More then thay that e and swetts
A11 th. 1°38 We

This contrasts greatly with the set-speech uhich we find in much medieval
drama, illustrated here fromjfigggjgygygugugz

mums. Alas, I am sett in grete hevynesse!

Ther is no tong my sorow may tell,

So more I am browth in dystresss!

In feyntnes I falter for this fray fell;

Thys dewresse wyl lett me no longer dwells.

But God of grace sons me redresse.

A! how my peynes don me repelle!

Lord, with-stond this duresse!

HART. The in-wyttissymus God, that guer xal reyne,
Be his help, an sdwlys sokor!

To whom it is most nedfull to cumplayn,

He to bryng vs owght of ower dolor.

He is most mytyest governowr,

From soroyng, vs to restryne.

EMRTHA. it how I am sett in sorowys sad,

That long my lyf I may not indevre!
Thes grawous peynes make me ner mad!
Vhdyr slower is now my fathyris cure, 10
That sumtyme was here ful mery and glad.

Chaucer's lines shine among such foils, and the qualities of his
apparent "realism" become more evident. Successful dialogue depends
heavily on trascription of possible speech. The laments of Lazarus,
Mary, and Martha are too formal to express any but a most remote and
formal sorrow: pain vanishes as an emotion beneath the nobility of the
lament. .Mak's "be way!" "open the hek," and other colloquialisms much
more closely approach the reality of speech. Furthermore, the dialogue

of fish and Gill, of Chaucer and the Eagle, of the various pilgrims,

155
makes the presence of both speaker and hearer strongly felt. The laments
are addressed more to the audience than to the other personages on stage.
This is not dialogue, it is speechifying, and rests on the edges of aside
and soliloquy. Effective dialogue takes the listener into account and
proceeds according to the individual's response to each statement. Such
is the dialogue of the end-links. Chaucer's pilgrims exist as autonomous
individuals, and he allows them to act as such. In the process the
reader sees them reveal, dramatically, their own personalities. Such is
the process of the drama. A man is what he says and does, rather than
what is said about him.

Surrounding the characters and action is a set-othe geographical
backgroun d—from which, while never depicted in detail, the reader's
consciousness is not allowed to stray. Background occupies a curious
Position in medieval aesthetics. Dvorak traces the stages of its
development in medieval art thus:

The following stages in the medieval development of the relation-

ship between formal and spatial composition thus resulted:

I. In Christian antiquity and in the early stages of the

Middle Ages: abstract, spiritual combination and movement of

dematerialised forms within ideal spatial ambiance.

2. In Romanesque art: arrangement of coordinated cubistic

forms and ideal, although cubistically conceived, bodies in an

abstract compositional scheme.

3. In Gothic art: id union of cubistic forms in a real
section of infinite space.
In the late Gothic period the "real section of infinite space" becomes
more and more a "real section of finite space," as the decorative
background of Romanesque and early Gothic art becomes "naturalistic,"
in the art historian's sense of that word. Chaucer's use of local

reference is not new; we see it in the celebrated medieval anachronism,

which transplants events through time and space to convey their

156

immediacy, as in the Sm W 2131. Langlsnd uses the Halvern
Hills to bring some note of believability to the dreams of Pigzguglgplggg

Boccaccio uses Florence and the hills of Fiesole to provide a realistic
setting for the tales of the Degamgpgn. Chaucer's use of specific locals
is more complex than any one of these, however. It provides setting and
plausibility for Boccaccio and Langlsnd, but is integrated into the
Qgpgggggpz,zglg§ in a way in which Piesols or the Halvern hills are not
in the works of Boccaccio and Langlsnd. In the Qgptgzbngz_gglgg the
actualities of the pilgrimage became a unifying feature through the
character and concerns of the Host, the worldly guide._ It is Harry
Bailly who most often mentions geographical landmarks and who continuous-
ly urges the pilgrims to lose no time in the journey. Concern for time
and for physical progress becomes an integral part of Bailly's personal-
ity, and together they provide a sense of motivation rather rare in
medieval literature. The use of real-world geography precludes those
wide paths or narrow hedged ways of the allegorical pilgrimage, such as
we find in Deguileville's W 11 lg m M, and rightly sets
the stage for the drama of the pilgrims.

Deguileville provides yet another instructive contrast to Chaucer's
realistic use of background detail and mimetic personages. In the
W; a great deal of attention is devoted to the surroundings,
primarily because they serve as allegorical signs. Because the figures
of the work are not the least realistic, however, the detailed background
contributes nothing to mimesis or,plausibility, which are completely
outside the poet's concern. An example of a pilgrim-personation who
acts as a human, and accompanies the narrator for some way, is'Youth,

pictured thus:

157
. . . in the ways adnoon I fond
A damysole off queynte array,
Wych me mette vp-on the way.
And lyke a dowue Kas thoughte me)
She was ffetheryd for to flag
And on her leggys bothe two,
Lyk a dowve she was also,

And endownyd soffte & ffayr,
Smothe as gossamer in the hayr.

12
Neither the surroundings nor any amount of dramatic presentation, of
which Deguileville has some, can make this work mimetic.

The realism of the end-links lies in Chaucer's mimetic handling of
plausible characters, lifelike action, and dialogue. Chaucer allows the
pilgrimage to portray itself with a.minimum of apparent guidance on his
part. The pilgrims develop not according to a fixed pattern or plan
which demands certain specified types, but as each situation prompts.
Personalities are revealed in many situations, sometimes in confirmation
of and in harmony with the portraits of the General Prologue, sometimes
not. Above all, Chaucer allows the trivia of casual conversation and
observation, of colloquialism and profanity, to generously season the
account of the pilgrimage. The end-links do not develop along any
plot line, and indeed, because of the many short scenes and incomplete
Pilgrimage, could not. This makes these scenes all the more appropriate
receptacles for the trivia of everyday life. The end-links are informal,
varied, on occasion ribald, but never flat. Unified by several themes

and by the indomitable Harry Bailly, they constitute the drama, indeed

the actual being, of the Canterbury pilgrimage.

158
NOTES TO CHAPTER III

1D. Jo Hall. mm 11931212; W. (London: 1966). 1-2.

2For historical studies of the pilgrimage see Hall; Jusserand,
Peal-.1211 m _iLL 3 Bowen.

3Langlsnd, C. I. 51-55. ‘
“Langlsnd, B. v. 392-391..

SScholars disagree on the nature of this break. The seemingly
interminable Squire's Tale would apparently have to be broken off
somewhere, but the nature of the break has no bearing on the realism
of the discussion which follows it.

5n..¥£k. xxviii.

7Auerbach, 555.

8Gower, Congesgio Agantig, I. 1550-156h.

9Joseph Quincy Adams, "Second Shepherd's Play," Chief‘gxgzéhgkgg-
m m. (Cambridge, Hal-.3 1921.), 11. 305-313.

1°uuary Magdalene," Adams, 11. 277-295.
"DVO§‘k. 70o

”Guillaume Deguileville, W n 1.3 m m, trans. John
Lydgate, EeEeTese, Co's 83. (London: 1901). 11s 1'07Q‘11078e

CHAPTER IV: SELFBREVELAIIONS

I

Three pilgrims who do not discover themselves during the end-links
proper, in commerce with other pilgrims, are given the opportunity by the
poet to discourse on their lives, occupations, and dearest concerns in
long monologues. These are the life of Bath, the Pardoner, and the
Canon's Yeoman. The Wife of Bath and Pardoner reveal themselves in the
prologues to their tales. The Canon's Ieoman's monologue occurs not in
his prologue but in the first half of his tale; the story he tells
actually comprises part tee of the "tale." Each monologue is auto-
biographical and confessional, and although those literary forms were
well-established in the fourteenth century-notably in the drama,-
Chaucer makes them very much, and very originally, his own. The
examination which follows will concentrate on themmethods by which
Chaucer reveals the characters of the tellers, the ways and degrees in
which reality is represented, and the extent to which these monologues
present a "psychological realism." It_has long been pointed out that
many of the "realistic" traits presented in the monologues are not
original with Chaucer but rather derivative or conventional; it is
instructive to see hoe he has used conventional materials to vivify
these personages. The originality and lifelikeness of his personages
do not necessarily depend upon the originality of the materials used;

old fields in Chaucer are often transformed into brilliant life.

159

160

II: ALISON 0F BATH

The Wife of Bath has by turns fascinated, scandalized, and horrified
readers for nearly six hundred years, and without doubt she remains
among Chaucer's best liked characters. Alison shares Cleopatra's
"infinite variety" in a perverse way, insofar as she can never be defini-
tively explained.' But whereas Cleopatra represents a cloyless "Egigr
weiblighg," the Wife of Bath shows us‘Egigggit grown old. She is,
however, considerably more than the shrew or outworn mistress; though
composed of many tradeworn parts, she is no type. Other realizations
of her typed character may be seen in Jean de Meun's 3mg 19, ,I_I._a_ my,
and Gautier le Lou's "La Veuve." Alison's portrait partakes of traits
of both these other women, but she consists of more than the all-consuming
passion for sex found in these French counterparts. The personage of the
Wife of Bath has depth, and it is this depth which has so often been
called "psychological realism." Vividness of characterization might be
a more accurate term, however, for when ve examine Alison in terms of
actual life, we find her highly improbable.

The life of Bath's Prologue proceeds with a studied haphazardness
and illogic which encourages the scholar to isolate particular elements
rather than view the misorganized.whole. Alison's lack of logic, as
reflected in the arguments of her monologue, is one of the basic traits
of her character, hovever. Through Juxtaposition of housewifery,
theology, astrology, ribaldry, and antifeminist satire, Chaucer manipu-
lates various levels of irony, humor, and satire, continually thwarting

some of the reader's expectations while fulfilling others. His resultant

game with the reader and the Canterbury pilgrims produces a figure which,

 

161

because she is created and portrayed so differently from all other figures,
takes on life of her own, becoming, for so many readers, ”realistic." Her
realism is not that of photograph or even psychological theory, however;
it is rather of process. The post pictures occurrences which are an
imitation of life, not always faithful, but plausible and artistically
superb.

Alison's first words purport to present the theme of her subsequent
remarks:

Experience, though noon auctoritee

Were in this world, is right ynogh for me

To spake of we that is in mariage. (III. 1-3)
The exact nature of this woe is never made explicit. Alison, battle-axe
that she is, thrives on endless arguments with her husbands. Except for
an occasional blow, she suffers little. 'The question of happiness ii
never part of the game-unless we find happiness in her husbands' woes-
and her selfbcentered personality certainly lacks the empathy to see the
"war" from the man's point of view. Every word she says is an ironic
comment on Alison as the "whippe"; she is herself the "wo that is in
mariags," but she proceeds to abstract "wo" from her own personal
characteristics, and transforms it to that vague problem of "maistrie."
It further becomes obvious that Alison, who has not experienced much
woe, does rely on "auctoritee" for a goodly part of her exposition. Her
"auctoritees," of course, ironically argue against her. There is no
woe in Alison's life unless we take her husbands' points of view; she
ironically manages to present these points of view, unwittingly and
Iagnificently.

Alison is always on the defensive, proceeding in her disquieition

by first presenting an opposing side of the debate. She invariably

162
fails, however, to discredit that opposing side. In her egotism she
assumes her audience's viewpoint to be her own; the Truth is so obvious
to her that it need not be stated. Chaucer builds an edifice of irony

around Alison's illusions. She adapts, for instance, material from

Jerome's Epistola‘ggygzgus‘ggxinigggg,on several occasions. Those

arguments against remarriage were without doubt known to Chaucer's
readers, yet the 'ife states them, unrefuted, in defense of her multiple
marriages:

But me was toold, certeyn, nat longs agoon is,
That sith that Criste ne wente nevere but onis
To weddyng, in the Cane of Galilee,

That I no sholde wedded be but ones.

Berke oak, lo, which a sharp word for the nones,
Biside a welle, Jhesus, God and man,

Spak in repreeve of the Samaritan:

'Thou hast yhad fyve houshendes,‘ quod he,

'And that ilke man that now hath thee

Is noght thyn housbonde,‘ thus seyde he certeyn.
What that he mente therby, I kan nat seyn;

But that I axe, why that the fifths man

Was noon housbonde to the Samaritan?

Yet herde I nevere tellen in myn age

Upon this nombre diffinicioun.;K9-25)

The passage typifies Chaucer's transformation of serious material. The
life's use of her sources incorporates no surprising changes from the
texts. Jerome says:

Siquidem et illa in Evangelio Joannis Samaritans, sextum se
maritum habere dicens, arguitur a Domino, qued non sit vir ejus.
Ubi enim numerus maritorum est, ubi vir, qui proprie unus est,
esse desiit. Una costs a principio in unam uxorem verse est.
Brunt inquit duo in earns una. Non tris, neque quatuor, alioquin
Jam non duo, si plures. *

O O O O O O O O O O O

O O O 0
And the Samaritan woman in John's Gospel, who said that she had
a sixth husband, was corrected by the Lord, who said that he was
not her husband. For where there has been a number of partners
there ceases to be a husband, who is properly only one. At the
beginning one rib only was made into one wife. And they two shall
be one flesh, said God, not three or four, since they cannot be
two, if there are more than two.

Unlike Chauntecleer, Alison usually quotes accurately, though selectively

163
and perversely. She adapts her quotations to her own purposes.

Of the many pilgrims, the Parson provides the greatest contrast to
the life of Bath in his treatment of scripture in the discussion of
marriage. He speaks of the remedies of lust, touching on the topics of
Alison's monologue, but in very different style, and, of course, with
equally different intent:

New shaltow understands that matrimoyne is leefful assemblynge of

man and of womman that receyven by vertu of the sacrament the

‘ boond thurgh which they may net be departed in al hir lyf, that
is to sayn, whil that they lyven bothe. / This, as seith the book,
is a ful greet sacrament. God maked it, as I have sayd, in
paradys, and wolde hymself be born in mariage. / And for to halven
mariage he was at a weddynge, where as he turned water into wyn:
which was the firsts miracle that he wroghte in erthe biforn his
disciples. / Trove effect of mariage clenseth fornicacioun and
replenysseth hooly chirche of good lynage; for that is the ends
of mariage; and it chaungeth deedly synne into venial synne bitwixe
has that been ywodded, and maketh the hertes al can of has that
been ywedded, as wel as the bodies. / This is verray mariage,

that was establissed by God, or that synne bigan, whan natureel

lawe was in his right poynt in paradys; and it was odeyned that

o man sholde have but 0 womman, and o womman but 0 man . . .
TheParson's homily exhibits impeccable logic and precise organization;
it is typical of the raw homiletic material which the Wife of Bath so
brilliantly perverts and.which the poet so brilliantly adapts to her
characterization.

Like the Pardon the Wife of’Bath aims to convince the pilgrims of
her particular viewpoint. She is not so logical in doing it, probably
not half so effective at converting her listeners, but eminently enter-
taining. If we examine her technique in the passage quoted above, we
find that the narrative, derivative portion of her argument is straight-
forward, but is liberally mixed with phrases referring to a variety of
irrelevancies: time, verification, interjectiens, personal references,

oaths, and the like. Much of the life of Bath's personality seems to

I.

p.

16#

be a configuration of irrelevancies. Almost every line has its quali-
fying phrase:

But me was toold, certeyn, nat longe agoon is . . .

That by the same ensample taughte he so . . .

Herkene eek, lo, which a sharp word for the mouse . . .

. . . thus seyde he certeyn.

But that he mente therby, I kan nat seyn;

But that I axe . . .

Yet herde I nevere tellen in myn age . . .
And so on. In these phrases we find the heart of the Wife of Bath.
Almost everything she says must in some way be related to her own person.
She feels a compulsion to verify all details, hence a plethora of oaths
and qualifying words-"certeyn"-or references to the "auctoritee" she
elsewhere disparages. Through these phrases, comparable to the ”uh,"
"uum," and "y' know" found so often in modern speech, the life achieves
a conversational tone while maintaining the unbroken flow of her mono-
logue. Artistically the monologue cannot be interrupted; Alison's views
would demand refutation, and Chaucer would have set himself an impossible
task to transcribe the inevitable battle among the pilgrims. 'ith the
many dialogue-type interspersions, however, the Wife's monologue‘takes
on the attributes of a one-sided conversation; she speaks to us, but,
like her first three husbands, we are denied the opportunity to reply.
The seemingly interminable harangue is artistically effective through its
ironic use and misuse of "auctoritee," while portraying the domineering
woman who cannot be stopped from speaking her mind.

Alison is especadlly adept at misusing an authority and at fictional
elaboration of Scripture. In speaking of multiple marriages she

exaggerates for humorous effect :

165

God bad us for to wexe and multiplye;

That gentil text kan I wel understands.

Eek wel I west, he seyde myn housbonde

Sholde lets fader and mooder, and take to me.

But of’no nombre msncion made he,

Of bigamye, or of ectogamye. (28-33)
"Octogamy" originates in Jerome's letter, where he states that not even
octogamy is actually damned. Alison takes this to mean that ectogamy is
therefore good. She ignores Jerome's context: marriage may people the
earth, but virginity peoples heaven. His is the old Pauline theme that
it is better to marry than to burn. "ban Alison picks up the word it
becomes a vehicle for humor through exaggeration. Jerome also uses it
for exaggeration, but his aim is satiric. Alison, rather like the three
revellers of the Pardoner's Tale, takes the figure of speech for the
literal.

Fictional elaboration becomes a humorous means of provingva point
when scripture is viewed through Alison's looking glass:

Lo, heere the wise kyng, daun Salomon;

I trowe he hadde wyves so than can.

As wolde God it were leveful unto me

To be refresshsd half so ofte as he!

lhich yifte of God hadde he for alle his wyvys!

No man hath swich that in this world alyve is..

God weot, this noble kyng, as to my wit,

The firste nyght had many a myrie fit

With ech of hem, as wel was hym on lyve. (35ufi3)
Her obvious envy of Solomon is amplified by her immediate change of the
subject to her own marriages. Using Solomon as the means of transition,
Alison moves from general scriptural authorities to specific examples-
upon which she proceeds to spin fantasies-to her own state, which forms
the subject of the remainder of the monologue. Solomon is an appropriate
transition, given his many wives, but like most of Alison's appeals to
authority, ironic connotations accompany the allusion. It is none other

than Solomon who supplies the life's husband with material for the

166
remarks for which she reproaches him:

Thou liknest eek wommenes love to helle,

To bareyne land, ther water may nat dwells.

Thou liknest it also to wilds fyr;

The moors it brenneth, the moors it hath desir

To consume every thyng that bront wole be. (3719375)

Both Jerome and Chaucer's Parson cite Solomon in support of their views
on marriage. Jerome borrows the above material cited by Alison's hus-
band. The Parson reminds us,

And therefore seith Salomon that "whose toucheth and handleth

a womman, he fareth lyk hym that handleth the scorpioun that

styngeth and sodeynly sleeth thurgh his envenymynge"; as whose

toucheth warm pyhh, it shent his fyngres. (X. 853)

Alison is adept at using scripture to subvert her ende- Holy writ. like
most other things she deals with, ends up as a sort of elaborate scaffold-
ing around her imperturbable ego.

The life proceeds to Justify her personal life with references to
Lameth, Abraham, and Jacob, all Old Testament figures. As in her study
of Solomon, she learns only their views concerning marriage. Concerning
New>Teatament counsel, she reminds us, "Conseillyng is no comandement."
She proceeds to enumerate the stock arguments in favor of the married
state: virginity is nowhere commanded; marriage is nowhere forbidden;
one should not expect everyone to be perfect; the sexual organs were
made for use; the married state is necessary if the race is to continue.
Each argument is elaborated with its own series of exempla, and each is
followed by lines referring to Alison herself:

I woot wel that th'apostel was a mayde;

But nathelees, thogh that he wroot and sayde

He wolde that every wight were swich as he,

Al nys but conseil to virginitee.

And for to been a wyf he yaf me love

Of indulgence; so nys it no repreve

To wedde me, if that my make dye,
Iithouten excepcion of bigamye. (79-86)

167

I graunte it wel, I have noon envie,

Thogh maydenhede preferre bigamye.

It liketh hem to be clene, body and goost;

Of myn estaat I nyl nat make no boost.

For wel ye knows, a lard in his houshold,

He math nat every vessel al of gold;

Somme been of tree, and doom hir lard servyse. (95-101)

Virginitee is greet perfeccion,

And continence eek with devocion,

But, Grist that of perfeccion is wells,

Bad nat every wight he sholde go sells

Al that he hadde, and gyve it to the peers

And in swich wise folwe hym and his fears.

He spak to hem that wolde lyve parfitly;

And lordyngss, by yours love, that as net I.

I wol bistowe the flour of al myn age

In the notes and in fruyt of mariage. (105-11u)

Crist was a mayde, and shapen as a man,

And many a seint, sith that the world bigan;

Yet lyved they evere in parfit chastitee.

I nyl envye no virginitee. '

Lat hem be breed of pured whats-seed,

And lat us wyves hoten barly-breed;

And yet with barly-breed, Mark telle kan,

Our Lord Jhesu refresshed many a man.

In swich sstaat as God hath cleped us

I wol persevere; I nam nat preclus.

In wyfhod I wol use myn instrument

As frely as my Makers hath it sent.

If I be dangerous, God yeve me sorwe! (139-151)
This series of extended passages, which is by no means complete, illus-
trates Alison's gift for keeping her argument concrete, immediate, and
extremely articulate. She is adept at turning the preachers' methods to
her own purposes, as in the wheat and barley bread analogy. Alison
makes no pretenses to objective or impartial arguments. Theology and
philosophy do not interest her for their own abstract sakes. She will
follow out her marriage-reasoning to its ultimate relationship to her
own affairs, and she will relate things as she chooses.

Alison's articulate argument is extremely effective in that she does
work from recognized authorities and that, given the proper assumptions,

even Jerome would honor it. As the Friar says,

168

Ye han heer touched, also moot I thee,
In scole-matere greet difficultee.
Ye han seyd muche thyng right wel, I seye. (1271-1273)

But Alison's assumptions concerning matrimony are in no way related to
Jerome's. As she proceeds in her defense, relying more and more on her
own experience to bolster her case, we see the basic differences between
Alison and the ”clerk at Rome, a cardinal, that highte Saint Jerome,"
many of whose arguments are echoed in the Canterbury galgg by the
Parson. For Alison, marriage means legalized sexual license. The
Parson comments specifically on these ideas:

The thridde spece of avowtrie is somtyme bitwixe a man and his
wyf, and that is whan they take no reward in hire assemblynge
but oonly to hire flesshly delit, as seith Saint Jerome, / and
ne reken of nothyng but that they been assembled; by cause that
they been maried, al is good ynough, as thynketh to hem. / But
in swich folk hath the devel power, as seyde the aungel Raphael
to Thobie, for in hire assemblynge they putten Jhesu Grist out
of hire herte, and yeven hemself to ordure. (X. 903-905)

That Alison‘s view of marriage consists of the "flesshly delit” damned
by the Parson is further illustrated by her subsequent elaboration:

I wol persevere; I nam nat precius.

In wyfhod I wol use myn instrument

As frely as my Makers hath it sent.

If I be daungerous, God yeve me sorwe!

m housbonde shal it have bothe eve and sorwe,
Ihan that hym list come forth and pays his dette.
An housbonde I wol have, I wol nat lette,
Which shal be bothe my dettour and my thral,
And have his tribulacion withal

Upon his flessh, whil that I am his wyf.

I have the power durynge a1 my lyf A

Upon his propre body, and noght he. (1h8-159)

Alison up to this point has maintained an argument which she applied
only to her own case. It is hardly surprising to find that this woman,
so assertive in pressing her case against the celibates, is equally
assertive in the face of a mere husband. Her argument thus turns from

theory to practice: "An housbonde I wol have, I wol nat lette, / Which

169
shal be bathe my dettour and my thral." While that statement could be
reconciled with the doctrine of the imperious heroine of courtly love,
the qualifications which follow certainly cannot: ". . . And have his
tribulacion withal / Upon his flessh, whil that I am his wyf." The
nature of this "tribulacion" is sexual enslavement, as Alison proceeds to
illustrate, but extends also to the monetary sphere. Alison will be
dominant physically and materially. The remainder of her monologue is
a series of glosses upon the passage quoted above.

The glossing does not proceed without reference to the other members
of the company, however. The Pardoner's interruption, humorous in the
light of Chaucer's comments upon him in the General Prologue-"I trowe
he were a geldynge or a mare,"-highlights Alison's effectiveness as an
antifeminist propagandiat and supports her position as a male-dominating
figure:

"Abyde!" qued she, "my;tale is net bigonne.

Nay, thou shalt drynken of another tonne,

Er that I go, shal savoure wore than ale.

And_whan that I have toold thee forth my tale

Of tribulacion in mariage,

Of which I'am expert in a1 myn age,

This is to seyn, myself have been the whippe,-

Than maystow chess wheither thou welt sippe

or thilke tonne that I shal abroche." (169-17?)

The effect on the Pardoner is clearly devastating. He replies in a
patronizing tone, eager to escape her claws:

"Dame, I wolde prays yow, if yours wyl it were,"

Seyde this Pardoner, "as ye bigan,

Telle forth youre tale, spareth for no man,

And tbche us yonge men of yours praktike." (18h-187)

The contrast with the exchange to come between Pardoner and Best is
notable. Alison shows a certain diplomacy in not insulting the Pardoner;
Ihe gives him the benefit of the doubt in the marriage game as Bailly

does not: "Than maystos chese wheither thou welt sippe / Of thilke tonne

170
that I shal abrochs." Harry Bailly, lacking Alison's self assurance, is
typically adept at insulting the emasculated Pardoner sun. bolstering
his own emssculated ego.

The interruption recalls the audience of pilgrims to the reader's
mind and enables Alison to fire off one false start. The false starts
are unique to her; we see several before she reaches her tale, and each
plays its role in making herjpersonality more vivid.

New, sire, now wol I telle forth my tale.-

As evere moote I drynken wyn or ale,

I shal seys sooth, the housbondes that I hadde,

As thre of hen were goods, and two were badds . . . (193-196)

One of Chaucer's most effective devices in the mimetic transcription of
Alison's monologue is her penchant for interrupting herself. Above, she
pauses for one of her many affirmations, "As evere most I drynhs wyn or
ale, / I shal ssye sooth," which leads to thoughts of husbands and the
resumption of the monologue. Alison seems to free-associate on certain
words; wins, ale, truth, and.husbands are among them. One thought leads
to another in a stream-of-consciousness-liks pattern; with the conven-
tional affirmation her mind takes flight from the business of tale-telling,
and we return to her experience in marriage. Chaucer's careful patterning
and its seeming haphazardness approximates actual thought patterns.

we move into the confessional portion of the monologue with the.
introduction of the husbands. Alison maintains her position as diverting
tale-teller throughout the narration, mainly through her ability to laugh
at her marriages, her obvious Joy in recollection, and the odd flavor of
the narrative; the latter is mainly derived from a mixture of household

images and scholastic authorities. The three older husbands are lumped

together in the following reminiscence:

171
The thre were goods men, and riche, and olde;
Unnethe myghts they the statut holde
In which that they were bounden unto me.
Is woot wel what I moons of this, pardee!
As help me God, I laughe when I thynke
How pitously a-nyght I made hem swynke! . . .

I governed hem as wel, after myrlawe,

That sch of ham ful blisful was and fewe

To brynge me gays thyngss fro the fayre.

They were ful glad when I spak to hem fairs;

For, God it west, I chidde hem spitously. (197-202; 219-223)
One questions whether the husbands were really "ful blisful” to bring her
things, especially after reading how Alison bore her husbands in hand.
For, "half so boldely kan ther no man / Swere and lysn, as a womman kan."

The tirade which follows admirably illustrates Alison's verbal
methods. A monologue within the monologue, it consists of her restate-
ment of her husband's accusations of’hgz. This fourth-hand relation of
the material enables Alison not only to make her point-how to handle a
husband-but to misinterpret when necessary and to add additional comments
for the benefit of the audience. The tirade consists entirely of stock
antifeminist satire. By putting it in Alison's mouth Chaucer achieves
yet another level of irony and humor. He also deprives this thoroughly
conventionalized material of its usual setting, thus achieving a novelty
which makes the antifeminist material not typed, but dramatic, vivid, and
real. This tirade is not directed against the setirist's usual target.
The woman of the satires, if she is identified at all, is a combination
of shrew and harlot, complete in her wickedness, and, for all the satirist
will tell us, completely deserving of her fate. The interposition of
Alison between the promulgator of the satire and the hearers of it causes
us to reassess both the charges and the object of the satire. w. are in

a position to do this because Alison has definitely been established as

a mimetic figure. In much the same fashion as in the opening passages of

172
the monologue in which she attempts to set up a scriptural case for
remarriage, Alison utilizes the episodes of antifeminist satire in the
basically unchanged forms of their traditions. Vivacity is added by
the multiple levels of meaning, humor, and irony mentioned above, by use
of many, many interruptivs devices, and by odd Juxtapositions of house-
wifery and scholarship.

The basic idea for the indirect harangue contained in a confession-
al monologue is no doubt borrowed from Jean de Meun, but Chaucer trans-
forms it completely. The accusations which the life of Bath alleges her
husband has made are for the most part those of the Jealous Husband of
the Egmanflgg‘lg,gg§g. But Jaloux, though ostensibly speaking to his
wife, berates an abstract figure, Woman. The not effect of his tirade
is dialectic, not dramatic: ‘

Et cil qui font lo mariage,
si rent trop perilleus usage
et coustume-si dospareille
qu'el me vient a trap grant merveille.
Ne sai don vient costs folio,
fore de rage at do dssverie.
Js voi que qui cheval achete
n'iert Ja si fols que rions i mete,
conment que l'en l'ait bien covert,
se tout nou voit a descovert;
par tout le resgarde st espreuve.
Hes l'en prent fame sans sspreuve,
no Ja n'i sera doscoverte,
no per gaaigne no por ports,
as per solas no por mosese,
per ce, sans plus, qu'el ne desplese
devant qu'ele soit sspouses.
Et quant e1 voit la chose outree,
lore fet au fol ses meurs sentir,
quant riens n'i vaut le repentir. (8631-8652)2
0 O O 0 O O O '
Again, these who marry have a very dangerous custom, one so ill-
arranged that it occurs to me as a very great wonder. I don't
know where this folly comes from, except from raging lunacy. I
see that a man who buys a horse is never so foolish as to put up
any money if he does not see the horse unclothed, no matter how
well it may have been covered. He looks the horse over everywhere
and tries it out. But he takes a wife without trying her out, and

173

she is never unclcthed, not on account of gain or loss, solace

or discomfort, but for no other reason than that she may not be

displeasing before she-is married. Then, when she sees things

accomplished, she shows her malice for the first time; then

appears every vice that she has. (159)
Alison's account is much more direct, and considerably more effective for
its brevity and obvious irritation:

Thou seist that oxen, asses, hers, and houndes

They been assayed at diverse stoundes;

Bacyns, lavours, or that men has bye,

Spoones and stooles, and a1 swich housbondrye,

And so been pottes, clothes, and array;

But folk of wyves maken noon assay,

Til they be wedded; olde dotard shrewe!

And thanne, soistow, we wol ours vices shows. (285-292)

Alison's adaptation of the traditional charge, which also appears in
St. Jerome's Emgfitglg,ggggzgngmggginianpl, is indicative of her concern
for things domestic. Spoons, stools, pots, basins, and clothes are added
to the Jaloux's horse. But more effective than that is her constant
reference to the present adversary: "Thou seist," "olde dotard shrewe,"
"soistow," etc. Alison never approaches her argument in the abstract
way of theJaloux; his satiric attack 13 totally impersonal and lacks the
emotional content which would indicate that he is the husband and that he
is actually speaking to his wife. The illusion of dialogue, or attempted
dialogue, within the monologue is extremely strong in Alison's lesson on
how to cow a husband. We can easily see the poor man trying to defend
himself, only to be stopped again and again by "Thus ssistow . . ." and
a new charge. The words "soistow," "thou seist," or variants appear
fully twenty-one times during the tirade! I. can scarcely forget the
husbandfis inarticulate presence! Alison of course browbeats the reader
in the same way. Structurally the repetitions avoid the confusion of Jean

de Heun's monologues—eithin-monologuss where the reader soon loses all

track of the original speakers, Amie and, later, La Vielle. Artistically,

17h
the repetitions become humorous. Much the same effect is produced by
Alison's scathing forms of address: Sire—olde kaynard, olde lecchour,
lorsl, olde dotard shrewe, olde barel-ful of lyes, olde dotard, sire
shrewe, sire olde fool, leeve sire shrewe. Each address recalls the
potential dialogue, reinforces Alison's argument, and redounds ironically
upon her, the ultimate in shrewishness. Chaucer builds a sort of sus-
pense through Alison's complete articulateness: each charge leaves us
wondering how she will top it with the next one!

The antifeminist material is traditional throughout and can be found
in Jerome, Jean de Noun, even folklore. Alison continually intersperses
personal details, however, to give this conventional material new life.
The many phrases relating the tirades to her husbands are one instance.
Her continual references to the woman's world are another. Images of
household and farmyard are habitual with her, and they appear in especial-
ly thick concentration in the long speech to her husband. In the space
of about one hundred lines we find: cow, mouse, spaniel, goose, pimples,
leaky houses, smoke, oxen, asses, horses, dogs, basins, spoons, stools,
pots, clothes, oxen, money chests, shnalbs, gnats, the cat with singed
fur, worse, as well as Alison's unsubtle euphemisms for the sexual organs.
Such an array would of itself mark her for a coarse, homey, and rather
dull woman. Alison of Bath is quite worldly, however, as we are left to
infer from her travels, and her werldliness includes a considerable
acquaintance with scholars and literary material, as we have seen. She
quotes indiscriminately, again adapting the material to her purpose. She
cites or refers to, in the course of her monologue, the Bible (as a whole),
Ptolemy (twice), Romans, Ecclesiastes, Valerius, Theophrastus, Jerome,

Tertullian, Crisippus, Trotula, Heloise, Solomon, Ovid, Socrates, Adam

175

and Eve, Hercules and Dianira, Phasiphae, Clytemnestra, Amphiorax,
Livia, Lucy, Latumyus. For a wemman who swears by experience, Alison
shows a commanding knowledge of "auctoritee." The use of authorities is
what we expect, however. We certainly see it in Jaloux, who quotes
Theophrastus, Titus Livius, Juvenal, Valerius, Abelard, Virgil, Solinus,
and others. But the Wife of Bath is never quite what convention leads
us to expect. Jaloux, because Jean de Noun does not keep the speaker's
identity clear in his reader's mind by repeated tags, appears to speak
for his creator, and indeed many critics have accepted him as such. His
authorities are eminently acceptable and quoted accurately. Alison
draws on the oddest, most heterogenous group one might think of; the
comic incongruities inherent in her strange use and Juxtaposition of
names are such that there is no question of her speaking for anyone but
herself, and even her own point is undercut by her indiscriminate choice
of authorities. Alison marries "auctoritee" and experience in her
exemplum, producing an interesting, personal dialectic which is often-
times funny because of odd Juxtapositions which result. Thus "Daun
Ptholome" rubs shoulders with the singed cat, and his dignity suffers in
the process.

"Thus," says Alice, "as ye have understands, / Bear I stifly myne
olde housbondes on hands." She details her management/extortion:

For al swich wit is yeven us in ours byrthe;

Deceite, wepyng, spynnyng God hath yive

To wemmen kyndely, whil that they may lyve.

And thus of o thyng I avaunte ms,

Atts ends I hadde the bettre in ech degree,

By sleighte, or force, or by som maner thyng,

As by continueel murmur or grucchyng.

Namely absdde hadden they mesehaunce:

Ther welds I chide, and do hem no plesaunce;

I wolde no longer in the bed abyde,

If that I felts his arm over my syds,
Til he had mead his raunson unto me;

176

Thanne welds I suffre hym do his nycetee.

And therfore every man this tale I telle,

Wynne whose may, for al is for to sells;

With empty hand man may none haukes lure. (too-4.15)
The Wife freely acknowledges using all the methods of subjugation shich
she blames her husband for reproaching her with: deceit, weeping, sleight,
force, murmuring, and sexual extortion. "I quitte hem word for word. . .
I ne-owe hem nat a word that it nys quit," she says. The marriage which
emerges from these descriptions is not an unusual one in terms of literary
conventions, however. It is merely much more vivid. The husband of the
moment is Jean's Jaloux, but he has flesh and blood, because Alison
portrays, or implies his presence as a real man.‘ The Jaloux drawn by
Asia is hypothetical and so stock as to be no personage at all. Alison
is a combination of Jaloux's wife, La Viells, Gautier 1e Lou's widow,
and many others, but she remains unique. Her uniqueness inheres partly
in her portrayal: no other shrew figure is portrayed from her own point
of view. It is true that Le Vislle also represents the feminine point
of view, but she does so with acknowledged vindictiveness towards men.

The Wife of Bath combines the coquettish aloofness of Jaloux's wife
with the shocking frankness of La Vielle. She uses the sex act as a
bribe: "For wynnyng welds I al his lust endure.” The bribe itself seems
an odd one, since she repeatedly states that she makes her husband suffer
in bed; the act is certainly no sacrifice on her part. Alison's methods
reverse those of the Jaloux's wife, although she pretends to the same
rationale. He says:

No!- la nuit, quant vos gisiez

on men lit les moi touts nus,

n'i pees vos estre tenue;

car quant je vos veill embracier

per vos besier st soulacier,

st sui plus ferment eschaufen,
vex rechinies conme maufes

177

no vers moi, per rions que Jo face,

no voles torner vostre face,

mes si malade vos faigniez,

tant souspirex, tant vos plaigniez,

st fetos si la dangerous

qu J'en devisgn si poereus

que no no vos res assaillir,

tant ai grant poour do faillir,

quant aprés dormir me resveillo. (9058-9073)

Even at night when you lie all naked beside me in my bed, you can't

be held, for when I want to embrace you to kiss you and comfort you,

and when I am thoroughly warmed up, you sulk like a devil and do not

want to turn your face toward me for anything that I may do. ‘Iou

pretend to be so sick, you sigh and complain so much and make so

much resistance that I become so fearful that I don't dare attack

you again, when I wake up after I have slept, so great is my fear

of failing. (165)
The fact that Dame Alice almost never repulses her husband's advances, but
only uses them for material advantage, distinguishes her from the wife of
the am _gg g ggse. Like La Vieuo, she protects a great deal but
takes whatever she can get.

Alison's frankness in protestatiou is a shock technique derived from
La Vielle. Both refer to the sex act often and in vocabulary which would
satisfy neither Reason nor the Lover of Jean's work. Haldsen Braddy has
discussed Chaucer's use of obscenity in the gagggghgzy,Talgg, and though
he has not defined his terms explicitly, seems to admit the use of the
obscene in the "realistic" portions of the Tglgg.3 Is Alison obscene?
Or merely exhibitionist?‘ Her mind certainly runs to the sexual, but
perhaps she doth protest too much. No doubt some members of Chaucer's
audience were shocked, though perhaps not so much as was Christine do
Pisan at Jean de Heun's work. Alison does not hesitate to proclaim her
position:A

'hat eyleth yow to grucche thus and gross?

Is it for ye wolde have my qusynte allone?

fly, task it al! 10, have it every dssl!

Peter! I shrewe sow, but ye love it wool;
For if I wolde sells my hole ghggg,

178

I koude walks as fressh as is a rose;
But I wel hope it for yours owene tooth. (h43-hh9)

Alison's frankness really embodies no "realism" as such. She too uses
the euphemisms that Raison denounces. Her willingness to speak about
sex is not particularly "realistic" either. Though she may not be
"realistic," Alison is without doubt unique, the only other personage
notable for frankness being La Vielle. La Vielle is probably even more
likely to shock than Alison: she uses some of the same euphemisms but
treats more of mechanics and dwells on the repulsive. And, like Jaloux,
she is distant from her subject, speaking, for the most part, of an
abstract ”she." 'It is only when La Vislls speaks of her own life that
she attains the interest of the life of‘Bath. But even then her speech
lacks the homey irrelevancies which personalize Alison's diction.

The realistic value of the shock technique is relative to its con-
text. In comparison with the so-called "courtly" tales, the Wife of
Bath is gross, though not so crass as La‘Vielle. In comparison to Old
French fabliaux, such as "The Widow" by Gautier 1e Leu or "The Knight
who Conjured Voices" by Garin,“ Alison does indeed "walks as fressh as
is a rose.” Alison does achieve certain mimetic effects by striking a
median point between dialectic and pornography, for she speaks frankly
about matters which are very much a part of life. Frank talk about sex
does not often appear in medieval literature, outside of fabliaux and
satire, however; sex after marriage is‘a part of the "happily ever after"
syndrome, unmentioned in literature. At the same time, however, Alison's
frankness is not likely to have been the mirror image of either polite
or "lowed" conversation. The realism of these shocking statements
probably recto in the unflattering truth that man tends to think about

sex more often than speak about it; and Alison verbalises her every

179

thought e

Alison seems to come to a stop with the words, "Swiche manere wordes
hadde we on hands" (#51), and one expects her story to follow at last,
but she immediately picks up the expose of her marriages:

Now wol I spoken of my fourths housbonde.

My fourths housbonde was a revelour:

This is to seyn, he hadde a paramour;

And I was yong and ful of ragerye,

Stibourn and strong, and Joly as a pye.
How koude I daunce to an harps smale,

And synge, ywis, as any nyghtyngale,

'han I had drank a draughte of sweete wyn! (#52-h59)
We see here Alison's obvious inability to stick to her subject. This is
the first of several statements that she will speak of her nth husband.
She immediately wanders from her announced subject to speak of herself.
The digressions further emphasize her almost solipsistic concern for
herself and confute her occasional arguments that she has mellowed with
age. The wanderings characterize an extended passage which is notable
for its stream-of-consciousness-like organization. Her mention of
Husband.Rumber Four's revels prompts her to think of her own enjoyment
of wine and song. Thoughts of wine return her to her perennial occup
pation with sex: "In wemmen vinolent is no defence,- / This knowen
lecchours by experience" (h67—h68). "EXpOrience" tolls her back to
herself with the knell of memory:

But, Lord Grist! whan that it remembreth me

Upon my youthe, and on my Jolitee,

It tikleth me abouts myn herte roote.

Unto this day it dooth myn herte boote

That I have had my world as in my tyne.

But age, allas! that al wole envenyme,

Hath me biraft my beautee and my pith.

Lat go, farewell the devel go therwith!

The flour is goon, ther is namoore to telle;

The bren, as I best kan, new moste I sells;

But yet to be right myrie wel I fonde.
New wol I tellen of my fourthe housbonde. (469-h80)

180

Such phrases show the effect of Chaucer's fine ear for what must not
have been common speech of the court. In Alison's speech, as in the
dialogues of the end-links, Chaucer's transcription of various speech
Patterns does approach a phonographic realism. Alison's off-hand,
oddly-organized remarks are nothing like La Vielle's rhetoric, though
the content is often similar. La Vielle proceeds with impeccable logic,
but without the homey colloquialisms of Alison; the Duenna is very much
in the fashion of the schools. Rather than developing, as does the
speech of La Vielle, Alison's speech proceeds by variation: she
remembers her "Jolitee"; it tickles her heart; it does her heart good:
she has had her share of Joys; age comes; it has taken her beauty; she
will let it go; the flour is gone; she must make do with the bran; she
will be merry. This progression is typical of Alison, and is more
contemplative than didactic or expository. It contributes, by means
of honey vocabulary, personal exclamations, and proverbial phrases to
the illusion that Alison is present in all her charm and imperfectness.
The fact that no one would must in quite this polished manner does not
destroy this illusion of the reality of Alison's presence and the
perverse appeal of her words and situation.

Despite her protestations that there is "namoore to telle," Alison
proceeds to tell a good deal more. She returns to her fourth husband:

I says, I hadde in herte greet despit

That he of any oother had delit.

But he was quit, by God and by Seint Joce!

I made hym of the same wode a croce;

Nat of my body, in no foul manere,

But certainly, I made folk swich cheere

That in his owene grace I made hym frye

For angre, and for verray Jalousye.

By God! in erthe I was his purgatorie,

For which I hope his soule be in glorie.

For, God it woot, he sat ful ofte and song,
When that his shoe ful bitterly hym wrong. (h81-h92)

181
Not one line enlightens us concerning him. Alison never does "tell"
about him, beyond the two introductory lines: "My fourths housbonde was
a rsvelour: / This is to soyn, he hadde a paramour." He is perhaps
erased from her memory because, as one of the "bad" husbands, he had the
upper hand. It is notable that Alison bears him no grudge, as the
Duenna does her paramours: "But he was quit, by God and by Ssint Joce! /
. . . For which I hope his soule be in glorie." The description of their
relations is proverbial rather than specific or realistic. The proverb-
ial phrases are vivid in their own right, however: "I made hym of the
same weds a croce"; "in his owene grece I made hym frye": "his shoo
ful bitterly hym wrong." These are supplemented by conventional phrases
which convey particular information without specifics: "I hadde in herte
greet despit"; '. . . he of any oother had delit"; "he was quit"; "I
made folk swich cheere”; "I was his purgatorie"; "he sat ful ofte and
song." The elements of the passage give no evidence of realism, but the
effect produced is clearly vivid, partly because of the proverbs, partly
because we see behind this conventional tale of woe in marriage to the
state of the teller.

The fifth husband, the only one to receive a name, follows. Alison's
earlier classification of hernmates as three good and two bad comes into
question here. By the end of the monologue, we seriously question the
validity of her Judgment, because in the course of the narrative her
norms have clouded. Jankin is the ultimate figure of a loveéhate rela-
tionship in marriage. The pith of that vacillating arrangement is
discovered in Alison's opening comments:

low of my fifths housbonde vol I telle.

God lette his soule nevere come in hells!

And yet was he to me the mooste shrewe;
That feels I on my ribbes al by revs,

182

And evere shal unto myn endyng day.

But in ours bed he was so fressh and gay,
And therwithal so wel koude he ms gloss,
When that he wolde han my me 23.13.93:

That thogh he hadde ms bets on every bon,
He koude wynne agayn my love anon.

I trowe I loved hym best, for that he

Was of his love daungerous to me. (503-51h)

Again a comparison with the ggmgnugg';a rose is useful. La Vislle says:

Mos quant J'avoie des uns pris,
foi que doi Dieu ne saint Tibaut,
trstout donoie a un ribaut,
qui trop ds honte me fesoit,
mes c'iert cil qui plus me plesoit.
Les autres toun amis clamois,
mes li tant seulement amoie;
mes sachiez qu'il no me prisoit
un pois, et bien la me disoit.
Mauv‘s iert, onques ne vi pirs,
onc no me cessa de despire;
putain conmune me clamoit
li ribauz, qui point ne m'amoit.
Fame a trop povre Jugement,
et Je fui fame droitement.
Onc n'amoi home qui m'amast;
ass as oil ribauz m'antamast
l'espaule, on ma tests oust quasss,
sachiez que Je l'en merciasse.
11 no me sefist Ja tant batre
que seur moi nou feisse snbatrs,
qu'il savoit trop bien sa pes fsre,
Ja test me m'efist fet contrere.
Ja tant ne m'eust maumenee
ns batus ns trahinee,
as non vis blecié ne nerci,
qu'aincsis no me criast merci
one do 1a place se menst-
Ja tant dit honts ne h'ou'ot
que de pea no m'amonetast
st que lora us me rafetast:
si ravions pss st concorde. (Ihuh6-1hh77)
O 0 O O O O 0
But when I got something of value from one of them, then, by the
faith I owe God or Saint Thibaut, I would give it all to a rascal
who brought me great shame but pleased me more. I called all the
others lover, but it was he aiine that I loved. Understand, he
didn't value no at one pea, and in fact told me so. He was bad-
I never saw anyone worse-and he never ceased despising me. This
scoundrsl, who didn't love me at all, would call me a common whore.
A woman has very poor Judgment, and I was truly a woman. I never
loved a man who loved me, but, do you know, if that scoundrel had
laid open my shoulder or broken my head, I would have thanked him

r.

183

for it. He wouldn't have known how to beat me so much that I
would not have had him throw himself upon me, for he knew very
well how to make his peace, however much he had done against me.
He would never have treated me so badly, beaten me or dragged me
or wounded my face or bruised it black, that he would not have
counseled peace to me and than made me happy in bed, so that we
had peace and concord again. (25?)

Alison elaborates on this theme for some three hundred lines. She is
never so blunt as to say, as does the Duenna, that Jankin called her
whore, but we see at the end that her feelings towards this last husband
are precisely those of Jean's old woman and very much those of Gautier
ls Leu's widow.

In her usual fashion the Wife begins to talk of her mate but with-
out fail tells us more of herself:

My fifths housbonde, God his soule blesse!

Which that I took for love, and no richesse,

He som tyms was a clerk of Oxenford,

And hadde left scale, and wants at hom to bord
With my gossib, dwellyhgs in ours toun:

God have hir souls! hir name was Alisoun.

She knew myn herte, and eek my privetes,

Bet than ours parisshe preset, so moot I thee!
To hire biwrsyed I my conseil a1 . . . (525-533)

This is all we learn of Jankin until Dame Alice tells of the book of
wicked wives, some hundred lines later. We learn much more or Alison's
own concerns and activities. Her desire "for to as, and esk for to be
says / Of lusty folk" motivates many of her actions:
. . . I made my visitaciouns

To vigiliss and to processiouns,

To prschyng ask, and to thises pilgrimages,

To pleyes of myracles, and to mariages,

And wered upon my gays scarlet gytes.

Thise wormss, ns thise motthss, ns thise mytes,

Upon my peril, frets hem never a deal;

And wostow why? for they were used weel. (555-562)
Alison reflects the Duenna's concern for making the correct, frequent

public appearance.

184

Et gart que trop no sait enclose,
quar, quant plus a l'ostel repose,
mains est de toutes genz vefie
at as biaute mains connefie,
mains couvoitiee et mains requise.
Savant aille a la mestrs igliss
at face visitacions
a nocss, a processions,
a gene, a festes, a queroles,
car on tax leus tient ses escoles
st chants a sea deciples mssse
11 do: d'Amors et la deesse.
Mes bien ss soit ainceis miree
savoir s'ele est bien atiree. (13h87-13500)

O O O O O O O O
A woman should be careful not to stay shut up too much, for while
she remains in the house, she is less seen by everybody, her
beauty is less well-known, less desired, and in demand less.
She should go often to the principal church and go visiting, to
weddings, on trips, at games, feasts, and round dances, for in
such places the God and Goddess of Love keep their schools and
sing mass to their disciples. But of course, if she is to be
admired above others, she has to be wellsdressed. (233)

La Vielle gives detailed advice to women concerning those public appear-
ances-othe proper walk, the peacock-ssthod of showing one's figure,
hints on how to hide one's defects, and so forth. Her instructions, as
usual, are more polished than Alison's and are carefully organized.
Alison continues in her household role. She is specific as to her dress,
implies a "down home" familiarity with her fellow-strollers, and implies
at least a small scorn for the whole process in the phrase "to thise
pilgrimagss." Her concerns are never noble. Her "scarlet gytes"
recall to her mind the household problems of moths, and indeed, "thise
wormes, thise motthes, thise mytes" seem quite familiar to her. She
speaks to the pilgrims as she would to her gossib, Alisoun.

She proceeds, saying she will "tellen forth what hopped me." We
know by this time that nothing ever simply "happens" to Alison; she
controls all:

I says that in the feeldes walked we,
Til trewely we hadde swich daliance,

 

4‘

185

This clerk and I, that of w purveiance
I spak to hym and seyde hym how that he,
If I were wydwe, sholde wedde me. (56h-568)

Alison, as usual, is the agreasor. She makes her motives clear, however.
Her ”purvsiancs" is her means of survival:

Yet was I nevere withouten purveiancs
Of mariags e e e (570.571)

She bolsters her case with the usual household proverb:

I holds a mouses herte net worth a leek
That hath but can hole for to starts to,
And if that faille, thanne is al ydo. (572-57h)

Not surprisingly, the same proverb is found in the speech of La Vislle:

Et sachiez une chose vaire:

cil qui sires est ds la fairs

doit prendrs par tout son toulin;

et qui ne peut a un moulin,

hes a l'autrs tretout le cours!

Mout a sorim povre secours

et fet on grant perill sa druigs

qui n'a q'un pertuis a rsfuigs.

Tout ausinc est 11 de la fame,

qui de toum les marchien est dame

que chascun fet por lui avoir:

prendre doit par tout de l'aveir,

car mout avroit fole pensee,

quant bien se ssroit propsnsee,

s'el ns voloit ami que un. (13115-13129)

Know also another truth: he who is lord of the fair should collect
his market-toll everywhere: and he who cannot at one mill-Hey!
to another for his whole round! The mouse who has but one hole
for retreat has a very poor refuge and makes a very dangerous
provision for himself. It is Just so with a woman: she is the
mistress of all the markets, since everyone works to have her.
She should take possessions everywhere. If, after she had
reflected well, she wanted only one lover, she would have a very
foolish idea. (227)

La Vielle seldom resorts to proverbs, one of Alison's basic weapons.

When Jean's personage utilizes them, she is a good preacher, making a
point with the proverbial material, then exemplifying the point supported
by the example. The overall effect is didactic, in spite of the colorful

proverbs. Alison's methods and ends are not didactic in the sense that

186
La Vielle's are; Alison may wish us to see her point, but she will not
be hurt if we are not convinced. Her sxempla are allowed to stand with-
out elaboration or explanation, and the reader must adapt the proverb
to the situation himself. Alison's speech thus retains its informality;
unlike the sermon, it remains close to the illogical patterns of every-
day, nondidactic speech.

Chaucer comes strikingly close to the modern-day understanding of
stream of consciousness when Alison proceeds to forget what she was
talking about:

But now, sire, lat me so, what I shal seyn?

A ha! by God, I have my tale ageyn.

lhan that my fourths housbonde was on beers, . . . (585-58?)

The lines are wonderfully appropriate to the woman who, in total dis-
organization, is nevsr at a loss for words. She thinks out loud, talk-
ing to herself, to the company, and swearing, all at the same time. we
are allowed to enter her mind for one moment when she is off her guard-
not that we do not know what is in her mind at other moments. Alison

is continually an actress. She is always on stage, and her performance
is on two levels. The one is that of dramatic presentation: we are given
her words. The second is that of irony: the contrasting and overlapping
of her thoughts, or lack of them, as above, betray her inner self
differently and to a greater extent than she is aware.

Back to her narrative, Alison continues to relate the story of her
_falling in love with Jankin. She never admits to as much, however.
Ostensibly she is speaking "of [her] fifths housbonde." But of course
she speaks of herself:

When that my fourths housbonde was on beers,

I weep algate, and made sory cheere,

As wyves mootsn, for it is usage,
And with my coverchief covered my visage,

187

But for that I was purveysd of a make,

I wepte but smal, and that I undertake.

To chirche was myn housbonde born a-morwe
with neighehores, that for hym maden sorwe;
And Jankyn, ours clark,.was son of tho.

As help me God! when that I saugh hym go
After the beers, me thoughte he hadde a paire
Of legges and of feet so clone and fairs
That al myn herte I yaf unto his hoold.

He was, I trowe, a twenty wynter cold,

And I was fourty, if I shal seye sooth;

But yet I hadde alwey a coltes tooth. (587-602)

The scenario is not original with Chaucer. We find this standard anti-
feminist situation in many places. Eustache Deschamps writes in the
gigg:;.§g_mariags that after the husband's death the callous wife takes
what she can get, is satisfied by a short Mass, and searches in the
funeral crowd for another mate:

Elle smporte plus que le tiers,
Et s'a a part tout desrobs,

3a preys prins comma un hobs
Pour un autre qui la prandra.
Et scavez vous qu'il advendra?
Du service, obsequs et les lays
Oir vouldra parlsr Jamais,
Excepté d'une courts messe;

Et regardera, en la presse

A porter ls deffunct en terre,
Qual sari elle pourra querre

Bt avoir apron cesti cy. (1966-1975)S

Much more vivid and satiric is the portrait painted by Gautier ls Leu in
"La Veuve":

Begnor, Je vos vuel castoier.
Tuit devons aler ostoier

En l'ost dent nus om ne retorne.
Saves conment on les atorne

gaus qui en cele ost sent semons?
On les lieve sor deus linens,
Puis l'en ports on barbs sovins
Vere le mostier do grant ravine,
Et sa molliers 1e siut aprss.

Gil qui a li montent plus pres,
Le tienent par bras st par mains
Des paumes battrs, c'est dsl mains. . .
Ensi va acontant sea fables

188

Qui as sent mie veritables.
Devant l'entrse des mostier
Dent reconmenca son nastier
De crier haut st durement.
Rt 11 prestres isnelemsnt,
Qui l'ofrande desire a prendre,
Rueve les candelles esprendra.
Qant 11 services est finés
Rt 11 core est se atorn‘s
Qu'il est colciés trestos anvsrs
En tere noire avuec les wars, 6
Dent velt li dams spree salir. (1-12; 23-57)

0 O O O O O O O O 0
My lords, I should like to instruct you. we all of us must go off
to the wars, on that expedition from which no man returns. And do
you know how they dispose of someone who has been convoked to that
army? They carry him to the church on a litter, toss up and with
great speed; and his wife follows after him. Those who are closest
to the wife lay hands and arms on her to keep her from, at the very
least, beating her palms together. . . . she carries on, acting
her part, in which there is scarcely a word of truth. At the
entrance of the church she begins again her business of shrieking
and wailing. The priest, who would like to get on with the
collection, quickly orders the candles to be lit; and when he has
asked God's pardon for the dead man, he says the mass in a great
hurry. When the service is finished and the corpse has been laid
on his back in the black earth among the worms, than the good
wife wants to Jump into the open grave. (1h5-1h6)

The wife's grief is, like Alison's, mere "usage." She is soon on the
prowl, although she does wait until the funeral is over. Gautier's
vignette, while clearly not Chaucer's source, is much more vivid than
the comments of Repertoire de Science in Deschamptsigiggpz. By concen-
trating onaa particular widow, and through tongue-in-chesk.humor,
Gautier achieves an immediacy which Deschamp's blanket condemnation
lacks because of its abstraction.

Chaucer's passage is still more immediate in Alison's first person
account. we are no longer obJsctive or disaprowing observers, but
"insiders" to the experience, and thus somehow accessories after the
fact. The shift to a self-conscious first person has vivified and
rehabilitated a worn satirical commonplace. Moreover, Alison recognizes

her foibles: "I weep algate, and made sory cheere, / As wyves mooten,

189
for it is usage." "But for that I was purveysd of a make, / I wepte but
smal,n and that I undertake." Much of Gautier's satire is carried by the
utter lack of dignity in his widow. Her sexual desires assert themselves
not frankly, as do the Wife of Bath's, but obscenely. In comparison to
this satiric figure, Alison can love Jankin at the funeral with relative
impunity:

As help me God! whan that I saugh hym go

After the hears, me thoughte he hadde a paire

Of legges and of feet so clone and fairs

That al myn herte I yaf unto his hoold.

Gautier's widow is a figure to be scorned for her mockrheroic
bluster, which is ill-performed, and for her material and sexual preda-
toriness. Chaucer walks a narrow line in playing with satire and pathos.
The scenario is satiric, but Chaucer does not play for entire, as he did
with the harangue of the old husbands. The result is an ironic pathos
produced by the Wife's appeals for sympathy and the reader's ability to
see through her act to her motivations, which are the same as the widow's.
But by this time, we know the Wife so well that she cannot be a one-
sided satiric-fabliau character. Chaucer saves her from our immediate
scorn by careful manipulation of the conventions of satire and humor
which are played off against a character fully drawn. We have looked
through Alison's eyes at her experience, and have understood, at least
partially, her sis-stated motives. There is also, of course, a level
of implicit moral condemnation, but that lies beneath the surface of
this mimetic picture.

After a short digression in which Alison attempts to Justify her
stubborn lusty character through her horoscope, she returns to tell of

her marriage to Jankin a month later, and of her foolish gift to him of

her accumulated land and money. She devotes some two hundred lines to

190
the narration of the fright through which she finally gained “maistrie” in
their marriage. As usual, her view is anything but impartial. She en-
lists reader sympathy from the beginning, posing herself as the underdog:

And to hym yaf I al the loud and fee

That evere was me yeven therbifoore.

But afterward repented me ful score;

He nolde suffre nothyng of my list.

By God! he smoot me ones on thy lyst,

For that I rents out of his book a leef,

That of the streak myn ere wax a1 deef. (630-636)

Physical battle between husband and wife is a tapes of comic and satiric
literature; even in iconography we find the husband and wife fighting
over the literal "pants" of the marriage. Any number of marital Jealou-
sies may lead to the fight, and usually the wife emerges victorious by
means of her tears and trickery. The Jaloux of the 3.99.9 h k m
beats his wife in exasperation over her extrayagance and infidelities:

Lors la prent espoir de venue
cil qui de mautalant tressue
par les treces et sache et tire,
rent 11 les cheveus et descire
li Jalous, et seur li s'aourse,
per noiant fust lions sour curse,
et par tout l'ostel la trains
at par corrous et par ataine,
et la ledange salement;
no ne veust, per nul serement,
recevoir excusacion,
taut est de male entencion,
sins fiert et frape et roille et saille
cele qui bret et crie et baille
et fet sa voiz velar au vens
par fenestres at par auvens,
et tout quan qu'el set 11 reprouche,
si con il 11 vient a la bouche,
devant les voisins qui la vienent,
qui per fous aabedeus les tienent,
et la 11 talent a grant paine
tant qu'il est a la grease alaine. (9331-9352)
0 O O O O O O O O 0
Then the Jealous husband, sweating with anger, may seize her
straightway by the hair and pull and tug her, break and tear her
hair and grow mad with rage over her. A lion's rage at a bear
would be nothing in comparison. In anger and rage, he drags her
through the whole house and vilifies her foully. His intent is

191

so evil that he doesn't want to hear excuses on any oath. Instead
he hits her, beats her, thumps her, and knocks her about while she
gives out howls and cries and sends her voice flying on the winds
past windows and roofs. She reproaches him in every way she knows
how, Just as it comes into her mouth, in front of the neighbors
who come there.. The neighbors think them both crazy; with great
difficulty they take her away from him while he is out of breath.

' ' (168-169)

After such treatment, of course, the wife proceeds to cuckold her hus-
band with a vengeance, and the husband lives in mortal terror of her
revenge. The battle in "La Veuveh is equally vivid but has a.happier
ending. The wife insults her husband's sexual abilities and his family.

A icest not 11 vallés saut.
II no dist mie: Dex vos saut,
Aims le saisist par les lubars,
Se 11 done des esclabars.
Tent 11 promet et tant li done
Que tot ce dit li gueredone;
Puis li resaut sor le Jovente,
Tent 11 fiert del puing et avente
Qu'il en est sullens et lassés. . .
Puis parole has a faucet,
Molt set bien fairs 1e qauset
Tot autresi con ele muire; . . .
Qant cele cease est trespassee,
Puis revienent andoi ensanle. (509-17; 533-36; 5#h-h5)

O O O O O 0 O O O 0
At these words the young man leaps up, and without so much as a
byayour-leave he grabs her by the haunches and gives her such a
thrashing, more than she bargained for, that he soon pays her in
full for her foul words. Then he leaps on her again and beats
and pounds her with his fists until he is all in a sweat and
worn out. When she has had enough the widow runs and hides in
her chamber . . . she speaks in an affectedly weak voice as though
she were really dying; for she knows how to make the most of her
wounds. . . . Then, the quarrel over, the two of them come back
together again. (15h-155)

Both Jean de Meun and Gautier le Leu present satiric approaches to the
theme of the sex-starved widow. Their frays are vividly portrayed, but
as inaall satire, the personages are representative types. The issues
are standard, and the husband is pictured as the wronged party.

Chaucer transforms this material. Once again we see the personal

immediacy which the first person narrative allows; the antifeminist

192
material is made credible because it comes from a woman who at the same
time portrays herself as wronged yet substantiates the traditional
charges. And again, Alison, because of the depth of her characterization,
is no stock shrew. This dulls the satiric edge but replaces it with
human interest and mimesis-the artistic imitation of human actions,-
the perfect arrangement for an ironist. Alison devotes one hundred fifty
lines to charges made against women by Jankin. The charges follow the
pattern of those made by Jaloux in the 3.9333 g; _J_._a. mg and by Alison's
older husbands. Again we see the charges verified by the speaker, Just
as La Vielle verifies the charges of the Jaloux and Gautier's widow
verifies the charges of satirist and husband. But Alison contrives
once again to inJect her own Jgiglggflyiyzg into the old authorities. The
list of unhappy marriages in Jean's work is made dull by the pedantic
telling of each episode. we hear of Penelope, Lucretia, Phoroneus,
Heloise and Abelard, Dido, Phyllis, Oenone, Medea, Vulcan, Venus, Mars,
and others. As in most of the expository speeches in the ngag, each
story exemplifies its own well-organised point. Jankin likewise uses
authorities to Justify his points, but as Alison tells the story the
points become confused and haphazard, interspersed with her own comments
on marriage.

Alison prefaces the description of her fight with Jankin by a
commentary on Jankin's attitudes which identifies him as one of those
clerks who wrote of wicked wives: .

Thanne wolde he says right thus, withouten doute:

"Whose that buyldeth his hous al of salwes,

And priketh his blynde here over the falwes,

And suffreth his wyf to go seken halwes,

Is worthy to been hanged on the galwes!" (65h-658)

Alison's reaction to this is predictable:

193

But al for noght, I sette noght an hawe

Of his proverbes n'of his olde sawe,

Ne I wolde nat of hym corrected be.

I hate hym that my vices telleth me,

And so doo me, God woot, of us than I. (659-663)

Thus we find the source of Alison's distrust of "auctoritee"; tradition
and the words of wise men forbid her to gad about, but experience has
taught her that her lusty life is to be enJoyed. Ironically, the life of
Bath is as much influenced by authority as Jankin, but she does not know
it. She sees fit to tell him and all the world about his vices, as she
admits telling her gossip (530-5h2), but hates to be told of her own.

She further sees fit to Justify things she approves of with all the
authorities she can find, as we have seen in the opening section of the
monologue. And indeed, she invokes old "auctoritees" to explain why
clerks always speak ill of women:

. . . it is an impossible
That any clerk wol spake good of wyves,
But if it be of hooly seintes lyves,
No of noon oother womman never the me.
Who peyntede the lean, tel me who?
By God! if womman hadde writen stories,
As clerkes han withinne hire oratories,
They wolde han writen of men moore wikkednesse
Than al the mark of Adam may redresse.
The children of Mercurie and of Venus
Been in hir wirkyng ful contrarius;
Mercurie loveth wyadam, and science,
And Venus loveth ryot and dispence.
And, for hire diverse disposicioun,
Ech falleth in otheres exaltacioun.
And thus, God woot, Hercurie is desolat
In Pisces, wher Venus is exaltat;
And Venus falleth ther Mercurie is reysed.
Therefore no womman of no clerk is preysed.
The clerk, whan he is cold, and may noght do
Of Venus werkes worth his olde eho,
Thanne sit he doun, and writ in his dotage
That womman kan nat kepe hir mariage! (688-710)

Alison invariably turns to astrology, that supranatural explanation of

all man's foibles, when she finds herself boxed in. With this device

194

she turns her own personality into an absolute, to which all also must
conform. Thus she Justifies her own "nature":

As help me God! I was a lusty can,

And fairs, and riche, and yang, and wel higon;

And trewely, as myne housbondes tolde me,'

I hadde the beats guoniam myghte be.

For certes, I am al Venerien

In feelynge, and myn herte is Marcien.

Venue me yaf my lust, my likerousnesse,

And Mars yaf me my sturdy hardynesse;

Hyn ascendent was Taur, and.Msrs therinne.

Allas! allas! that evere love was synne! (605-614)
In this first instance, Alison tries to szstify her taking a husband only
half her age. She cannot do it by proverbs or other authorities, so she
turns to her experience-the testimony of her other husbands-and to
astrology, which saves her from charges of unnaturalness. She is not
wholly convinced herself, however, as her plaintive cry, "Allas! allas!
that evere love was synne!" would indicate. Similarly she is faced with
the irrefutable fact that clerks write of wicked women. Rather than
admit that these women were evil, she evolves an astrological explanation
which explains why the clerk, child of Mercury, hates the lover, child
of Venus. For all its contrived logic, the explanation is in no way
pedantic. It contains Alison's usual proverbs-who painted the lion,-
imaginative fictional commentary-the outcome if women were to write all
the books,-and satiric yet homely exaggeration: "The clerk, when he is
cold, and may noght do / Of Venus werkes worth his olde sho . . ."

Alison continues the catalog of wicked wives, no doubt to impress
upon her hearers the full extent of the outrage she has suffered. She
does not lose the conversational touch, however, often inserting

exclamations and commentary:

Of Phasipha, that was the queens of Crete,
For shrewednesse, hym thoughte the tale swete;

195

Ey! spek namoore-~it is a grisly thyng-
or hire horrible lust and hir likyng. (733-736)

She manages to turn the incident of Socrates and Xantippe to Xantippe's
advantage by her emphasis on Socrates' passivity, not at all a character-
istic respected by the life of Bath:

No thyng forget he the care and the we

That Socrates hadde with his wyves two;

How Xantippe caste pisse upon his heed.

This sely man sat stille as he were deed;

He wiped his heed, namoore dorste he says.

But, "Er that thonder stynte, comth a reyn!" (727-732)
The emphasis of the story has changed in the Wife's telling. Socrates'
ng_mgt becomes merely an indication of his foolishness. Alison has

vulgarized her source slightly; Jerome writes that Xantippe threw water

 

on her husband. The changes subtlely shift attention away from the
import of the example; such subtle changes are a major Chaucerian
device. Similarly the vignette of Latumyua and Arrius is played for its
humorz.

Thanne tolde he no how can Latumyua

Compleyned unto his felawe Arrius

That in his gardyn growed swich a tree

On which he seyde how that his wyves thre

Hanged hemself for herte despitus.

"0 leave brother," qued this Arrius,

"Iif me a plante of thilke blissed tree,

And in my gardyn planted shall it bee." (757-765)

The wives of "herte despitus" are left to the imagination.

Alison also relates incidents basically unchanged, including Hercules
and Dianira, Clytemnestra, Livia, and Lucille. ‘Iet each incident is told
with the same household imagery, the proverbial commentary, and appropri-
ate exclamation. The inserticn of incidents played for comic effect-
these are the expanded incidents quoted above-reasserts at every turn
the life's personality. She will make fun of the example whenever she
can, thus undercutting them; she obviously believes they vindicate

her astrological explanation. She must, of course, leave enough

196

examples to prove her point that clerks are stupid and vengeful, and
that Jankin deserved to be knocked into the fire. The result is that the
reader cannot fully trust her-hardly a new observation at this point,
but one which we should not forget. Her own concept of what material
will work to her own good is often odd.

It is not surprising to find that it is Jankin's attacks on the
basic traits of Alison's personality which precipitate the battle:

. . . he knew of mo proverbes
Than in this world ther growen gras or herbes.
"Bet is," qued he, "thyn habitacioun
Be with a loan or a foul dragoun,
Than with a womman usynge for to chyde."
"Bet is," quod he, "hye in the roof abyde,
Than with an angry wyf doun in the hous;
They been so wikked and contrarious,
They haten that hir housbondes loven ay."
He seyde, "a womman cast hir shame away,
Wham she cast of hir smok;" and forthermo,
"A fair womman, but she be chaast also,
Is lyk a gold ryng in a sowes nose."
. lho wolde wens, or who wolde suppose,
The wo that in myn herte was, and pyne? (773-787)

Alison's actions follow:

Al sodeynly thre loves have I plyght

Out of his book, right as he radde, and eke

I with my feet so took hym on the cheke

That in euro fyr he fil bakward adoun.

And he up stirte as death a wood leoun,

And with his feet he smoot me on the heed,

That in the floor I lay as I were deed.

And whan he saugh how stille that I lay,

He was agast, and wolde han fled his way,

Til atte last out of my awogh I breyde. (790-799)

Attacks on her propensity to nag and on her chastity provoke the fight,
but, contrary to custom, Alison strikes the first blow. The motivations,
which have been detailed for some hundred and fifty lines, are clear, and
Alison does make a strong case for reader sympathy. The fight in the
1353339, fig 35 mg is nowhere so well motivated. Gautier 1e Leu's battle

is perhaps even better provoked, since the wife calls her husband's

19?

sisters whores, but such antagonism is beyond the Wife of Bath. Chaucer
has staged a battle which is complex in its development. The full effect
grows from the General Prologue, where Alison's deafness is mentioned, and
includes all the character traits developed in the monologue. The themes
of experience and authority, and woe in marriage are all developed and
are drawn together in the climactic action. The action itself is purely
conventional, but Chaucer has vivified it by rooting the causes in the
characters of the personages involved.

The results are also typical. Alison must kiss Jankin before she
dies-ironic, since she again seems to be a widowb-but she hits him
once more on the cheek to establish her victory.

But atte lasts, with muchel care and we,

We fills acorded by us selven two.

He yaf me al the bridel in myn hand,

To hen the governance of hous and lend,

And of his tongs, and of his hond also;

And made hym brenne his book anon right the.
And whan that I hadde geten unto me,

By maistrie, al the soverayntee,

. . . I was to hym as kynde

As any wyf from Denmark unto Ynde,

And also trowe, and so was he to me. (811-818; 823-825)

In antifeminist satire the wife always wins this battle, because the
husband must have cause for further complaint. Such is the case of the
Jaloux and his wife:

e e e 3. no 01301 I1.

qu'ele le veille amer Ja mes.
Semblant, espoir, en fora; mes
s'i posit voler Jusqu'au nose
on si haut lever see veues
qu'il pefist d'ileuc sanz choair
touz les fez des homes voair
et s'apensast tout par loisir,
si faudroit il bien a choisir
en quel perill il est cheuz,
s'il n'a touz les baraz veuz,
per soi garantir et tensor,
don fame as set perpenser.

198

S'il dert puis en es compaignie,

trop met on grant perill sa vie;

voire en vaillant et en dromant

se doit il douter trop formant

qu'el nou face, por soi vanchier,

enpoisoner ou detranchier,

on maner vie enlangoree

par cautele desesperee. (9360-9380)

I don't think that she night ever want to love him. She might
pretend, but if he could fly up to the clouds or raise his view
so high that from there, without falling, he could see all the
deeds of men, and if he reflected upon all at leisure, he still
would have to choose into which peril he fell, and he has not
seen all the frauds that a woman knows how to meditate in order
to protect and defend herself. Afterward, if he sleeps in her
company, he puts his life in very great peril. Indeed, sleeping
and waking, he must fear most strongly that, in order to avenge
herself, she may have him poisoned or hacked into pieces, or
make him languish in a life of desperate ruses. (169)

Jean ds Meun's battle scene is not at all developed like Chaucer's, and
we see that the results are likewise abstractly detailed. Gautier 1e
Leu works within the same convention but, like Chaucer, makes that con-
vention considerably more lifelike than Jean. He portrays a psychologi-
cally developed character, if only developed in one aspect. Jean deals
tith the abstract figures of the Jealous Husband and Faithless Wife.
Gautier varies these stock figures to the young husband and the sex-
starved widow. The change is enough to transform the story from worn
antifeminism in general to satire dealing with figures made individual.
Gautier closes:

Car se me feme me dist lait,

Se Je m'sn vois, ele le lait.

Et qui dont 1e volroit respondre,
Il feroit folie despondre.

Encor vient mela que Je m'en voise
Que Je le fiere d'une boisse.
Segnor qui estes auduin

Et gilleeur et herluin,

Ne seies de rien en esmai:

Li auduIn ont mellor mai

Q'ahent li felon conbatant

Qui les noiases vont esbatant.

199
Gautiers Li Lous dist en la fin
Que cil n'a mie lo cuer fin
Qui sa mollier destraint ne cosse,

Ne qui li demands autre cosse
Que ses bones voisines font. (573-589)

For if my wife scolds and says nasty things to me, all I need do is
leave and she stops. Anyone who tried to answer her would be
reasoning with madness. And it is better for me to go away than to
hit her with a piece of wood. Lords, you who are submissive,
deceitful, and blusterers, do not be dismayed in any way: submissive
men have more Joy than do those quarrelsome rascals who are always
looking for a fight. And finally, Gautier 1e Lou says that he who
will oppress his wife or quarrel with her only because she wants
what all her neighbors want does not have a gentle heart. (156)
Such a moral may easily be applied to Jankin and Alison. Battle
accomplishes nothing, and the pleasures of sex heal all wounds. "La
Veuve" is a coarse tale filled with unquotably coarse antifeminist
material, and as such does not compare with Chaucer's handling of con-
ventional figures and situations in the Wife of Bath's Prologue. Alison
may be off-color but she is never obscene like Gautier. Gautier achieves
considerable character development, also through a long monologue,
although not so much as Chaucer; lacking polish, Gautier's tale seems
"realistic" because of its obscenity. The sense of reality which we feel
in the Wife's monologue is of a more subtle kind. The realization of
these similar attitudes and rationales produces very different works.
Alison of Bath, compounded though she may be from type ahrewishness,
is more than a type. Types of the shrewish wife are common in Chaucer's
sources-Jereme, Deschamps, Jean de Noun, and in numerous other satiric a
and didactic works. The type is always a sketchy figure and little
distinguishes one example from another. Types never exist for their own
sakes: they are merely instruments through which the writer may arrive at
his "sentence." Individualisatien of the type in part destroys its

universal significance. In the gggtgzbgz; Talgg, however, nearly a

200
thousand lines are given over to Dame Alice's self-portrayal. The self-
revelation lacks the didacticism that characterizes much literary use of
stock characters, particularly by the homilists, of whom the following
is only one typical example:

. . . women who put upon their head hair that is not their own,

or an unnatural colour on their face / tamper with the handiwork

of God in gross presumption. For, to put hair on the head or

give a new complexion is the special concern of God. They,

therefore, who do this kind of thing desire along with Lucifer

to be equal with the All-highest; and for this reason the

unnatural colour on their face makes them grow old before the

prhper time, and in the future they will be punished for it

as well.

The life of Bath's prologue is set apart from homily and satire by its
form and basic assumptions. Because Alison speaks in the first person,
satiric and didactic intent can exist only on a secondary level, that of
the narrator's intended irony and the reader's perception of it. The
narrator, however, is eclipsed by the first person point of view, hence
irony, which exists throughout, is implicit and depends upon the reader's
apperception of Alison's many contradictions and absurdities. The
monologue, in keeping with the character of its speaker, becomes nominalp
ly autonomous, and as such serves other pilgrims as a sort of touchstone
and motivation for discussion of the married state.

In the discussion of the preceding pages we have examined signifi-
cant characteristics of Alison's monologue. It differs most notably
from its sources in its conversational tones As we have seen in the
end-links, Chaucer can take ordinary or trivial material and transform
it to life-like drama through dialogue. Alison does the same with the
tired old material of antifeminism. The transformation is based on her
disorganized and colloquial manner. Proverbs, auctoritateg, oaths,

profanity, interruptions, and digressions of all sorts compose Alison's

201
conversation. Alison's disorganization achieves, to a much greater
degree, the same effect as the narrator's seemingly haphazard relation
of details in the General Prologue, that of the stream of consciousness.
Yet organization and development are eminently strong in Chaucer. The
seeming haphazardness is achieved through the art of patterning, Juxta-
position, the yoking of the expected/conventional with the unexpected.
By seeming to lead us down a conventional path and then turning upon
his convention Chaucer achieves a literary effect which strikes the
reader as being much like life, for life rarely conforms to the expected.
The result is the illusion which constitutes mimesis.

Completely above the controlling idiom of the monologue is Chaucer's
acute awareness of the disparity between what one says and what one is.
This disparity strikes the reader most vividly when he listens to the
Iife of Bath. It is rooted in Chaucer's careful management of convention
and levels of meaning. Modifying the conventions of satire and the stock
character by changing them to a new form, that of unconscious revelation,
Chaucer makes the disparity clearly evident. A strong interplay between
conscious and unconscious revelation contributes to a method which is
primarily ironic. Accompanying and tempering the irony is a liberal
dose of humor-humor rooted in the disparities and juxtapositions which
form the heart of the personation of the Wife of Bath.

The "Chaucerian realism," the "psychological realism," the vividness,
the mimesis of the Wife of Bath's Prologue is largely built upon the
peculiarities of her speech and reasoning patterns. The realism of her
portrayal is never photographic; it is highly selective and often con-
structed upon conventions. Technique makes conventions seem to be like

actual life; the art of illusion contributes to mimesis. Alison tells

202
her tale-of itself an outrageous impossibility-in a way which makes
all plausible from beginning to end. We are at no point deluded into
thinking that she, her five husbands, and all the pilgrims existed, but
we willingly suspend our disbelief to enjoy this monologue, which is

highly mimetic.

III: THE PARDONER

The Pardoner and the Wife of Bath are often linked as like examples
of Chaucer's treatment of the confessional mode. It is true that both
characters utilize the confession to express attitudes not commonly
acknowledged of themselves by members of medieval society; each relates
in detail how he or she copes with particular problems; and finally,
each betrays much more of his character to the reader than he suspects.
But when we examine the artistic means through which Chaucer accomplishes
these ends, we find very different techniques. Both characters seem
"alive," but Alison of Bath is, more than anything else, a character
superbly constructed from literary antecedents. The Pardoner is a
composite of many vivified commonplaces; he has no significant literary
past. "There is no doubt," writes Germaine Dempster,8'that the character
of the Pardoner and the episodes in which he appears are largely the
creation of Chaucer." In examining the possible literary sources of the
Pardoner's Prologue, she finds only the speech of Faux-Semblant in the
Egggg_gg_;gigg§g and isolated fragments concerning the friars' "gaude"
of declaring that great sinners may make no offerings, both satiric
conventions of the time. The characteristic historical type which lies
behind the Pardoner's portrait is to be found most easily in ecclesiasti-

cal documents attempting to regulate abuses by pardoners. The

203
examination which follows will concentrate on Chaucer's use and variation
of this type; to establish that touchstone we must first seek out the
Pardoner of the day. This will require a relatively long excursis into

ecclesiastical history.

J, J. Jusserand's classic English Wayfaring Life in the Middle 55;;

remains the best picture of the practices of the Church concerning sin
and penance:

"Indulgence" was at first simply a commutation of penance. The
punishments inflicted for sins were of long duration: fasting

and mortification has to be carried on for months and years. The
faithful were permitted to transform these interminable chastise-
ments into shorter expiation. Thus a clerk might exchange a year
of penance against three hundred lashes, reciting a psalm at each
hundred. Tables of such exchanges were drawn up by competent
prelates. The learned and autocratic Theodore, born at Tarsus,
Cilicia, an encyclopaedic mind and a strong disciplinarian, arch-
bishop of Canterbury from 669-690, who left on the British Church
a permanent mark, had published a tariff allowing people to be
excused of a month's penance on bread and water if they sang
instead twelve hundred psalms with bended knees; for a.year's
penance the singing was increased, and each course of psalter
singing was accompanied with three hundred strokes in the palm of
the hand (palpatae). But it was possible to compensate a year's
penance and escape at the same time the psalms, fasts and strokes
by paying a hundred shillings in alms. In another such table,
drawn up in the ninth century by Halitgarius, bishop of Cambrai,
is found this additional facility, that if the sinner, sentenced
to a month's penance on bread and water, chooses rather the
singing of the psalms he may be allowed not to kneel while he
sings, but then instead of twelve hundred he will have to sing
fifteen hundred and eighty psalms. He may in the same manner be
excused of more than one month, up to twelve,.in which last case,
if he chooses not to kneel, he will have to g no less than
twenty thousand one hundred and sixty psalms.

The payment of one hundred shillings was no doubt more attractive than
twenty thousand psalms or a year on bread and water, and those who could
afford it willingly paid the price, although they were few in number.
Gradually the idea of commutation of penance was replaced by the theory
of the "Treasury," which resulted in the system of indulgences. The

"Treasury" consisted of the infinite mercy of Christ and of the merits

20A

of the saints, available through the dispensation of the Pope and the
clergy. "A short, well selected prayer, a small gift in money, would
now exempt devout people from the greatest penalties and from numberless
years of a possible purgatory."1o

The Pardoner, or questor, was entrusted with the mission of distri-
buting the heavenly wealth among God's people on earth. These mercies,
available through indulgences, were obtained through almsgiving, the
rationale being the same as that of Chaucer's pilgrim-friar:

For unto a povre ordre for to yive

Is signs that a man is wel yshryve;

For if he yaf, he dorste make avaunt,

He wiste that a man was repentaunt. (I. 225—228)
It should be noted that the pardon does not constitute forgiveness of
sin. Penance consists of eontrition, confession, and satisfaction, and
the indulgence accounts only for satisfaction; it removes the temporal
punishment for sin after confession and abselution remove the moral
guilt. Thus the indulgence may be given only to those who are contrite
and have confessed their sins, and this stipulation is found in indul-
gences granted by the Archbishope of Canterbury and‘York, and by the
bishops of Winchester, Exeter, and Durham.11 Furthermore, no indulgence
was to be "sold." The almsgiving was, however, necessary to indicate
the sincerity of the penitent. Thus the position of the pardoner is
strictly limited by canon law, consisting simply, according to Clement V,
of communicating "to the people the indulgences confided to them and to
humbly request alms."12

If we keep in mind the severity of penances during the Middle Ages,
it is not hard to understand the eagerness of the people for a portion
of the unlimited "Treasury" of heavenly grace of the fact that the

pardoner's position was soon abused. Oftentimes a cleric of minor orders,

205
or perhaps one without orders at all-on the continent even friars
sometimes served as pardoners,--the pardoner was foremost a fund raiser.
The abuses were not unknown to Church authorities, who issued a succession
of regulatory documents relating to the matter. Boniface IX writes
contemporaneous to Chaucer:

Certain religious, who even belong to one or the other of the
mendicant orders, and some secular clerks, even endowed with
privileged benefices, affirm that they are sent by us or by the
legates or the nuncios of the apostolic see, and that they have
received a mission to treat of certain affairs, . . . to receive
money for us and the Roman Church, and they go about the country
under these pretexts. . . . Thus, they proclaim to the faithful
and simple people the real or pretended authorizations which they
have received; and irreverently abusing those which are real, in
pursuit of infamous and hateful gain, they carry further their
impudence by mendaciously attributing t3 themselves false and
pretended authorizations of this kind.

Boniface's statements are extremely mild compared to this letter of
Thomas de Brantingham, Bishop of Exeter:

After hearing public rumor and receiving experience of its truth,
we have learned that some questors, equipped with false and forged
letters bearing seals, both from the Apostolic See and from us (as
the liars assert), in public places falsely preach the writs and
abuses contained in these letters before the clergy and the people
of our city and diocese, to the deception of souls and for the
purpose of extorting money and other goods from our subjects, so
that, like false prophets, they deceive the simple. And they

offer, not without much boldness and deception of souls, and in

fact grant indulgences to the people on their own authority. They
dispense from vows, absolve those confessing to them from perjuries,
murders, and other sins; for an amount of money they remit things
stolen or doubtfully obtained; they relax the third or fourth

part of penances enjoined ['on those having to do with them]; lying,
they assert that they can extract from purgatory the parents or
friends of those who give alms to them; to the benefactors of the
places where these questors are they grant plenary remission of sins,
and many they absolve from all penalty and guilt (as we use these
words), contrary to tho decrees of the Holy Fathers wholesomely
issued in this matter. A

Thomas goes on to forbid under pain of excommunication the reception of
such questors who are without the proper documents. The letter is not

unusual, but of course, the questor who could forge bulls from Rome

206
could do equally well for the bishop of the diocese. Furthermore the
srchdeacon and his officials, who bore the responsibility of carrying
out the bishops' directives concerning pardoners, oftentimes found profit
in ignoring the lack or falsification of documents in exchange for
"license" fees, or a cut in the take.15 Thus the reasons for Bishop
Thomas' threat of excommunication become evident. Corruption spreads like
the plague.

Especially flagrant in their violations of the many statutes aimed
at controlling the pardoners were the questors for foreign hospitals,
such as that for which Chaucer's Pardoner collects, Roncesvalles. The
hospitals themselves, located leagues beyond the seas, were in no posi-
tion to control their fund raisers. And local authorities were power-
less to act against the pardoners without authorization from the Pope
or archbishop, who had perforce to work through a long chain of subordi-
nates all subject to bribes. Local institutions, on the other hand, were
more strictly controlled. Kellogg and Haselmayer describe the means by
which Beverley Minster raised funds for the construction of the church.
Contracts were drawn up for each of the four diocesessin which the
collection was to be taken. The pardoner posted a bond of twenty pounds

16 Nonetheless abuses were flagrant.

and was kept under careful watch.
The showing of relics was only one method by which the Pardoner
raised money. Chaucer's Pardoner with his sheep bone is of course the
classic, but Boccaccio's Fra Cipollo does equally well with his parrot's
feather and coals. Surprisingly, the showing of false relics appears to
have been rare. As early as 1215 the Lateran Council banned any sale of

relics, and anyone causing false relics to be venerated was proclaimed a

heretic. Relics, because of their high visibility, were easily controlled,

207
and few were so hardy as to risk the penalty of heresy:

Traffic in false relics seems also to have been very infrequent.

Although one may find the standard abuses of pardoners repeated

over and over again, the abuse of false relics does not appear

among them. There is no mention of it in any of the manuals

which treat of the pardoner, and it is noticed in only a few

church councils.

No relics were to be shown without the authorization of the local bishop.
Abuse of relics was primarily a literary phenomenon; the pardoners have
apparently been abused with accusations concerning false relics nearly as
much as have been the friars for their supposed wealth.

A look at some of the supposedly "true'I relics does shed some light
on the prevalent state of mind which accepted the existence of both
relics and the pardons of the heavenly "Treasury": pilgrims at Exeter were
shown a piece of the candle lit by the angel in Christ's tomb, brought to
the cathedral by Athelstan; one could also see a little of the bush from
which the Lord spoke to Moses. Henry III was given a piece of marble
bearing a human footprint alleged to be "the mark of one of the Saviour's
feet, left by Him as a souvenir to His apostles after His Ascension." It
was placed at Westminster along with some of the blood of Christ. Edward
III received a vest of St. Peter, and Charles V of trance also possessed
some of Christ's blood. In literature we find good-humored burlesque
of on... extravagant claims in the comb of the cock which crowed at
Pilate's, half a plank of Noah's ark, and an angel feather; though not
strictly accurate, they are much in the spirit of the "actual" relics
traded by royalty and the Church.18 The mentality which supported the
veneration of relics is much the same as that which willingly bought
pardons from pardoners known to be false; taken in the context of the
miracles of the Bible, any such objects, improbable as they seemed, could

not be disproved so easily as they could be venerated, and any grace to

208
be had, from whatever doubtful source, might still guarantee the entry of
one's soul into heaven. In spite of the pardoner's abuses, which were
known to the people through sermons, the people grasped at any straw, just
as Chaucer's Pardoner attempts to make the Canterbury pilgrims grasp at
any straw. If one's soul could be saved by a bought indulgence, one would
willingly look the other way when the pardoner split the take with the
parish priest or the archdeacon's officials. People in general willingly
understood the Wager of Belief so well defined by Pascal.

The "realism" of Chaucer's Pardoner is rooted in his use of the
typical actions of questors who roamed England in the fourteenth century,
but, as we might expect, Chaucer's Pardoner does not step directly from
the ecclesiastical documents intehthe Qgppgzpp£z_23;g§. As with the Wife
of Bath, Chaucer capitalizes on his literary form-the confessional mono-
logue. Conventional material of which everyone is aware takes on a
slightly different tone when it is stated by a guilty party who obviously
is not ashamed of his doings. Chaucer is not merely repeating his
success with the Wife of Bath, because while Alison remains unaware
throughout of her actions' vindicating the charges against which she
argues, the Pardoner is not only aware of his guilt, but revels in it,
and revels further in the irony of it. The Pardoner is highly self-
conscious; Alison is not. In the pulpit the Pardoner is such a good
talker that he is sure he can sell his pardons to the pilgrims in spite
of the fact that they know all about him. For he is a good salesman, and
people on the pilgrimage are aware of their souls' sinfulness, even if
they are not overly "religious."

Chaucer's Pardoner is highly sophisticated. He knows his pilgrim

audience and knows what they expect from him, which is nothing good:

209

But right anon thise gentile gonne to crye,

"Nay, lat hym telle us of no ribaudye!

Tells us som moral thyng, that we may leere

Som wit, and thanne wol we gladly heere." (VI. 323-326)

The generic objection is transformed through a strong stroke to dramatic
characterization. As if to vindicate himself, the Pardoner sets out to
tell about his work, giving an example of the preaching which makes him
a "noble ecclesiaste," and finally, to sell them pardons in spite of
themselves:

"Lordynges," quod he, "in chirches when I preche,
I peyne me to ban an hauteyn speche,

And rynge it out as round as gobth a belle,

For I kan al by rote that I telle.

My theme is alwey con, and evere was-

mim ___.__na1orum _est ganglia." (329-334)
He proceeds to outline the standard procedures of the pardoner; in this

he concurs with many an ecclesiastical regulatory document:

First I pronounce whennes that I come,

And thanne my bulles shewe.I, alle and some.
Oure lige lordes seal on my patents,

That shows I first, my body to warente,

That no man be so boold, ne preest ne clerk,
Me to destourbe of Cristes hooly work.

And after that thanne telle I forth my tales;
Bulles of popes and of cardynales,

0f patriarkes and bishopes I shewe,

And in Latyn I spoke a wordes fewe,

To saffron with my predicacioun,

And for to stirs hem to devocioun. BBS-3&6)

The tone of his speech is confidential, as if he speaks to equals who
know all about what he does to "hem" in chirches. All is legal thus far,
but we know, as does the pilgrim audience, that many a pardoner carried
bulls, seals, patents, and indulgences never seen by Pope or bishop.

As we shall learn from the Pardoner's repeated statements that the
fruits of his work are all for himself, this man stops at nothing, not
even the carrying of false relics, so there seems little need to elabo-

rate on any devious methods used by him to get as far as the local

210
pulpit. In practice, these methods included forgeries and bribes, but
the "gentil pardoner" shifts attention away from this, and for good
reason. His self-expose focuses more on the gullibility of the people who
hear his fantastic tales yet still make their offerings. The Pardoner
exposes just enough of his trickery to show the pilgrims how clever he
is: he wins because people are too stupid or too faithful to challenge
him. His actual extortions are minimized in the telling, for exposure
of the whole truth might be stepping too far in his attempt to win from
the pilgrims. He does not realize that the group has been pushed too
far already.

Having impressed the peasants with his Latin, which may not have been
more extensive than that of the Summoner, the Pardoner proceeds to show
his relics: I

Thanne shewe I forth my longe cristal stones,

Ycrammed ful of cloutee and of bones,-

Relikes been they, as women they echoon.

Thanne have I in latoun a sholder-boon

Which that was of an hooly Jewes sheep. (3h7-351)

Again we find the condescending tone through which the Pardoner takes

the pilgrims into his confidence. The crystals are "ycrammed," a word
hardly conveying reverence towards the contents, be they relics or not.
He adds "Relikes been they," just in case the listeners have not followed
him, and "as women they echoon" expresses his contempt for the peasants
who do not know any better. The genesis of the shoulder bone set in
brass is heretical-"an hooly Jewes sheep." The Pardoner's contempt for
things religious is never hidden. The miraculous virtues of the sheep's
bone are extolled in mountebank manner reminiscent of Jonson's later

treatment in Volpgpe:

"Geode men," I seye, "teak of my wordes keep;
If that this boon be wasshe in any welle,

211

If cow, or calf, or sheep, or one swelle

That any worm hath etc, or worm ystonge,

Taak water of that wells and wassh his tongs,

And it is hool anon; and forthermoore, . . . (352-357)
The bone is a panacea for all problems likely to plague the peasant
population. It cures sick animals, multiplies crops, heals jealousy.
The Pardoner's relics bear great resemblance to pagan charms, and the
Pardoner himself appears here more a fairground huckster than an
ecclesiastic. His outlandish claims provide the basis for a double
satire which is carried throughout the Pardoner's segment of the Tplgg:
the Pardoner, a faithless and thieving churchmen, is one target, but
the people who believe such claims are in their turn also satirized as
a group of stupid, boorish, lumpish peasants.

The relics carried by the Pardoner are not, however, conventional.
We have seen that the abuse of relics relatively seldom occurred. If
there is any conventionality to the claims made for the sheep bone and
mitten, it is the conventionality of any fast-talking swindler who makes
exhorbitant claims that are so attractive that the gullible believe
them in spite of their fantastic nature. The claimsoof the Pardoner are
themselves caricatures of things which the people did believe in. The
relics accepted by Church and government as "real" were enhanced by
tales of miracles attributed to them. The miracles were magnified out
of all proportion by pilgrims just like Chaucer's pilgrims. -Chaucer's
Pardoner has merely adapted the relic-miracle syndrome to the needs of
his audience.

Thus the "realism" of the Pardoner so far is something difficult

,to isolate. Modelled neither on literary convention nor completely on

fact, the spiel nonetheless seems lifelike. The Pardoner's speech is

212

polished but lacks those "lifelike" faults of the Wife of Bath--disorgani-
zation, proverbs, household diction. What is "real" about the Pardoner's
approach is not so much its substance as its method, its psychology. It
is not the fabled "psychological realism" of Alison of Bath, however,
because it portrays little of the Pardoner's psyche. Rather it illumines
the psychology of the trickster and the tricked. We are shown themeans
by which a hypocrite can work on the gullible faithful. The reality here
is one of the swindle.

When the wonders of his Latin and relics have sufficed to "stire hem
to devocioun," the Pardoner enters the part of his sermon which entices
the people to give:

Goods men and womman, o thyng warns I yow:

If any wight be in this chirche now

That hath doon synne horrible, that he

Dar nat, for shame, of it yshryven be,

Or any womman, be she yong or old,

That hath ymsad hir housbonde cokewold,

Swich folk shal have no power me no grace

To offren to my relikes in this place. (377-38h)

In this spiritual blackmail the Pardoner makes no reference to the heaven-
ly values of his wares. Rather than say that every man sins and there-
fore needs pardon, he prefers to say that sinners may not offer. The
psychological values of guilt and grace are played off against each

other. The Pardoner entices the people to give by arguing that the good
gill give; the evil gay not. The argument ignores the basic value of the
pardon.

His exposition finished, the Pardoner resumes his confession, empha-
sizing several times that his only aim is money:

By this gaude have I wanna, year by yeer,

An hundred mark sith I was pardoner.

I stonde lyk a clerk in my pulpet,
And whan the lewed peple is doun yset,

213

I preche so as ye han herd bifoore,

And telle an hundred false japes moore.

Thanne peyne I no to strecche forth the nekke,
And est and west upon the peple I bekke,

As tooth a dowve sittyng on a borne.

Myne handes and my tonge goon so yerne

That it is joye to as my bisynesse.

Of avarice and of swich cursednesse

Is al my prechyng, for to make hem free

To yeven hir pens, and namely unto me.

For myn entente is net but for to wynne,

And nothyng for correccioun of synne.

I rekke nevere, whan that they been beryed,
Though that hir soules goon a-blakeberyed! (389-h06)

The image of the dove stretching its neck to look around is the most
vivid incorporated by the Pardoner into his speech. He obviously rejoices
in his "bisynesse" and gloats over the private irony which would have his
audience think him no more threat than a dove.

By his own admission, however, he is worse than these images of’a
benevolent Reynard in the friar's robe or bishop's miter, preaching to
the unsuspecting fowl. Like Reynard, the Pardoner is an admitted
hypocrite. His collections never see the Pope or other authority, and he
cares not a jot for the souls he might save, although he does admit that
good may come from the devotion he awakes:

For certes, many a predicacioun
Comth ofte tyms of yvel entencioun. (#07-h08)

But that is not his intent, he stresses yet again:

Thus spitte I out my venum under hewe

Of hoolynesse, to semen hooly and trowe.

But shortly myn entente I wol devyse:

I preche of no thyng but for coveityse. (A21-424)

The Pardoner harps on his aims much as the Wife of Bath harps on her
abilities to make love. Just five lines later he says yet again:
Yet kan I maken oother folk to twynne
From avarice, and soore to repente.

But that is nat my principal entente;
I preche nothyng but for coveitise. (h30-433)

21:.
Through his avarice, ironically fostered by the repentance of others,
the Pardoner aims at certain goals:

What, trowe ye, that whiles I may preche,
And wynne gold and silver for I techs,

That I wol lyve in poverte wilfully?

Nay, nay, I thoughte it nevere, trewely!
For I wol preche and begge in sondry landes;
I wol nat do no labour with myne handes,

Ne make baskettes, and lyve therby,

By cause I wolnnat beggen ydelly.

I wol noon of the apostles countrefete;

I wol have moneie, welle, chess, and whete,
Al were it yeven of the povereste page,

Or of the povereste wydwe in a village,

Al sholde hir children sterve for famyne,
Nay, I wol drynke licour of the vyne,

And have a.joly wenche in every toun. (h39-h53)

The Pardoner is a supremely selfish man. He aims to be a man of the
world, rich in the good things of life-gold, silver, food, drink, and
women. Or so he would have the pilgrims think, and he seeks approbation
on account of this cleverness. He assumes that the pilgrims take his
sophisticated view of religion and admire the triumph of the smartest
man. He assumes they will admire him for his cleverness; through that
cleverness he hopes vicariously to join the "manly men" of whose number
he is so obviously not a member. But the Pardoner miscalculates his
audience, for all his clever sophistication. He cannot win admiration
for his cleverness and money for his pardons at the same time, but he
seems to have lost track of this fact. Thus he asserts himself at the
end of his tale, a masterful sermon and exemplum. He is pretentious
enough to believe that the pilgrims will accept his role as Pardoner, in
spite of his confession and in spite of themselves:

But sires, 0 word forget I in my tale:

I have relikes and pardoun in my male,

As fairs as any man in Engelond,

Whiche were me yeven by the popes hand.
If any of yow wole, of devocion,

215
Offren, and ham myn absolucion,
Com forth anon, and kneleth heere adoun,
And mekely receyveth my pardoun;
0r elles taketh pardoun as ye wende,
Al news and fressh at every miles ends,
So that ye offren, alwey news and news,
Nobles or pens, whiche that be goods and trowe.
It is an honour to everich that is heer
That ye mowe have a suffisant pardoneer . . . (919-932)
I completely discount Kittredge's interpretation which would have
the Pardoner morally waver a moment before launching his sales pitch.19
It is completely inconsistent with the Pardoner's very consistent charac-
ter which has been thoroughly exposed. Furthermore it is inconsistent
with Chaucer's consistent satirical tone and leaves loose ends which
remain pointless and unaccounted for in the ending of the tale. The
Pardoner's remarks,
And lo, sires, thus I preche.

And Jhesu Crist, that is ours soules leche,

So graunte yow his pardoun to receyve,.

For that is best; I wol yew nat deceyve, (915-918)
do indeed seem inconsistent with what comes before and after. But if we
recall parts of the prologue, they may be somewhat explained. The
Pardoner recognizes that his work may indeed produce good:

For certes, many a predicacioun
Comth ofte tyms of yvel entencioun. (407-u08)

Yet kan I maken oother folk to twynne
From avarice, and soore to repente. (ABC-#31)

He qualifies each statement by saying "that is nat [his] principal entente."
But the mere recognition that his hypocrisy may accomplish good validates
his statement that Christ's pardon is best. For that is the truth and he
knows it, but does not care about it. He will willingly act the role
because he profits from it; his business depends upon it. His hypocrisy
cannot change that truth, and indeed, why should he want it to? If many

people did not believe in it, he would have no livelihood. So he can

216
truthfully tell the pilgrims that they should have Christ's pardon. It
is but a short step from that truth to his-business; he has the pardons,
don't get caught in the rush! He appeals to the pilgrims' sense of
morality and to their faith, to the very credulousness he has ridiculed
in his peasant audiences, in the belief that they will not dare refuse
him. He has shown his bill of goods and darestthem to buy. But they
will not. Perhaps sophisticated enough to enjoy the tale of his wiles,
the pilgrims are not so sophisticated as to accept his hypocrisy by
participating in it. Besides, they see through his attempt to assume
a manhood he lacks. And Harry Bailly, the garrulous, threatened Host,
puts him down superbly, hitting him in the only way possible. He has
shown himself invulnerable morally and spiritually, but not physically;
indeed his attempts to set himself up for the man he is not-the remarks
on his marriage in the Wife of Bath's prologue and the "wench in every
toun"-have indicated to all where he may be hit. Harry Bailly strikes
down the Pardoner not for his pretended relics or for his religious
hypocrisy, but for his pretensions to manhood. The complete deflation
of the Pardoner completes the satire, leaving him an irate figure
laughed at by all.

The reaction of the other pilgrims are not given. It is hardly
surprising that Harry Bailly gives no one the opportunity to speak up,
and his attack would nonetheless be difficult to top. The Knight of
course attempts to restore the equilibrium. He does this because of
his own desire to see no animosities, and because of his rank, but we
wonder, having seen his bourgeois tastes, if he is not a little horrified
at Bailly's attack on the "noble ecclesiaste." Perhaps the Knight would

have paid for a pardon just in case . . .

e"

217
It remains to compare the Pardoner with Jean de Meun's Faux-
Semblant, so often regarded as a prototype for the ”gentil pardoner."
This character is an embodiment of hypocrisy; he appears as a friar,
but is capable of becoming what he chooses, for hypocrisy and deceit
may exist in all walks of life:

Trop s6 bien mes habiz changier,
prendre l'un et l'autre estrangier.
0r sui chevaliers, or sui moines,
or sui prelez, or sui chanoines,
or sui clere, autre heure sui prestres,
or sui deciples, or sui mestres,
or chateleins, or forestiers:
briefement je sui de touz mestiers.
Or resui princes, or sui pages,
et sai par queur trestouz langages;
autre heure sui vieuz et chenuz,
or resui jennes devenuz;
or sui Roberz, or sui Robins,
or cordeliers, or jacobins. (11157-11170)

0 O O O O O O O
I know very well how to change my garment, to take one and then
another foreign to it. New I am a knight, now a monk; at one
time I am a prelat, at another a canon; at one hour a clerk, at
another a priest; now disciple, new master, now lord of the manor,
now forester. Briefly I am in all occupations. Again I may be
prince or page, and I know all languages by heart. At one hour I
as old and white, and then I have become young again. New I am
Robert, now Robin, now Cordelier, now Jacobin. (197)

The controlling concept behind Jean's personation is figural, in Auer-
bach's sense of that word. The character revealed in Faux-Semblant's
confession is portrayed in a way which moves from general to specific:
roux-Semblant, built upon a cue~name, is above all hypocrisy, false-
seeming, but he can appear in a multitude of guises. No one guise is
all important or a controlling factor of the ultimate reality of his
being, however. The Pardoner, in contrast, is characterized in an
opposite way. He is an individual who partakes of all the vices of
Faux-Semblant, but it is his individuality which controls the portrayal.

Both personages operate in similar ways, and it is their like

218
missions in life which have prompted identifications of the two. Faux-
Semblant says:

Par ma lobe entas et amasso
grant tresor en tea et en masse,
qui ne peut por riens affonder;
car so j'en faz pales fonder
et acomplis touz mes deliz
de campaignies ou de liz,
de tables plaines d'entremos
(car no veill autre vie mes),
recroist mes argenz et mes ors;
car ainz que soit vuiz mes tremors,
denier me vienent a resours.
Ne faz je bien tunber mes ours?
En aquerre est toute m'entente,
mieuz vaut mes porchaz que ma rente.
S'en me devoit tuer ou batre,
si me veill je par tout enbatre,
si me querroie ja cessier
ou d'empereeurs confessier,
ou rois, ou dux, on here, on contes.
Hes dos povres genz est ce hontes,
je n'aim pas tel confession.
Se n'est per autre occasion,
je n'ai cure de povre gent:
leur estat n'est ne bel ne gent. (11523-115h6)

O O O O O O O O O 0
By my trickery I pile up and amass great treasure in heaps and
mounds, treasure that cannot be destroyed by anything. For if
I build a palace with it and achieve all my pleasures with com-
pany, the bed, with tables full of sweets-for I want no other
life-my money and my gold increases. Before my treasure can
be emptied, money comes to me again in abundance. Don't I make
my bears tumble? my whole attention is on getting. My acqui-
sitions are worth more than my revenues. Even if I were to be
beaten or killed, I still want to penetrate everywhere. I would
never try to stop confessing emperors, kings, dukes, barons, or
counts. But with poor men it is shameful; I don't like such
confession. If not for some other purpose, I have no interest
in poor people; their estate is neither fair nor noble. (202-203)

The Pardoner, though he is a clever rogue, lacks the polish of Jean's
creation. Faux-Semblant evidences in his tastes and speech the ele-
gance which the Pardoner awkwardly aspires to. The Pardoner's tastes,
while of the same vein, are of a more bourgeois nature. The palace,
tables of sweets, and acquaintance of kings and emperors are clearly

beyond him. He rather enjoys the company of the Summoner, good wine,

219
and thoughts of women, and must perforce be content with making his
gains from the middle and lower classes.

Both personages share the confessional monologue, but again,
Fonz-Semblant is an abstraction among other abstractions. Moreover, his
revelations lack even the motivation which Chaucer has supplied for
the Pardoner. The confession of an abstract figure by definition must
be less effective than that of a fully drawn character by virtue of the
fact that the hbstraction consists only of the value that he embodies;
hence his confession becomes meaningless except in terms of exposition.
It is simple enumeration. The Pardoner's confession, because he is
portrayed as an individual, serves to characterize him more fully and
to motivate subsequent action. Faux-Semblant's confession is controlled
throughout by abstractions. He identifies himself as one of AntiChrist's
men-as such he is the embodiment of a conventional accusation against
friars which stems from William of St. Amour-oand, aside from the cata-
logue of potential forms quoted above, explains his actions in unde-
tailed manner. The Pardoner, while he may be of AntiChrist's band,
Presents a limited but vivid and concrete account of his methods. The
confession of Faux-Seablant, while it has many things in common with
the Pardoner's monologue, is more an expression of the satiric atmos-
phere in the light of which the Pardoner is portrayed than it is a
literary source. The Pardoner, though he exemplifies in concrete and
less dignified form many of Fonz-Semblant's principles, is portrayed
as an individual, not an abstraction.

The Pardoner's Prolgue does not, like that of the Wife of Bath,
portray the innermost reaches of his mind or psyche, but rather pictures

the outward manifestations of that psyche. We see the Pardoner through

220
a double screen: the first layer is that of his own consciousness; the
second that of his premeditated designs on the pilgrims' faith and his
Plan to sell them pardons in spite of themselves. The subjective fil-
ter of the personage's own consciousness is by a definition a character-
istic of the confessional monologue, and the Pardoner shares this aspect
of the exposure of his self-image with Alison. Alison, however, has
no ulterior motives in uncovering her inmost secrets to the pilgrims:
a self-assured woman, she little needs their approbation and is un-
affected by their condemnation. The Pardoner, on the other hand, seeks
to assert his cleverness and, indirectly, his masculinity. Did he not
attempt to sell the pardons, he no doubt would have succeeded in some
measure. His self-presentation chronicles his designs; the confession
of methods and aims which comprises the monologue is a.manifestation
of the Pardoner's insecurity.

Overall the Pardoner's confession lacks the excitement of Alison's
and is not so entirely successful artistically. Alison gains added
interest by speaking of a taboo subject. The Pardoner's subject,
hypocrisy and its methods, is not unique, and he does not attack it
with Alison's verve and humor. The straightforward portrayal 6a the
Pardoner's methods certainly approximates actual practices more than
Alison's husband-managing tricks mirror fourteenth century domestic
life. But the straightforwardness itself sacrifices interest; seen in
the light of actual pardoners, Chaucer's Pardoner is merely an adequate
representative. His monologue gains interest not from Alison's con-
versational techniques so much as from its own vividness in concrete
detail. The underlying concept, that of hypocrisy and trickery, is

considerably more abstract than the antifeminist motifs which form the

221

underpinnings of Alison's harangue. In listening to Alison we are
caught up in her thought processes, carried along by unexpected turns
of development, and made to feel, because of the intimacy of her reve-
lations, accessories to the action. Her monologue unfolds in a seeming-
ly unplanned faShion which is indeed described by the phrases "psycho-
logical realism" and "stream of consciousness." The Pardoner's con-
fession is descriptive exposition. Though he is trying to prove him-
self and sell his pardons to the pilgrims, the action is merely related;
it does not happen before our eyes. It is only when the actual sales
pitch is given that the Pardoner's presentation approaches the drama
of the end-links or of Alison's monologue-drama about her husbands.
The Pardoner, because of his earnest desire to convince, has no use for
the implied audience which Alison makes to seem always present. We
always sense the presence of her husbands; the Pardoner finds it to his
advantage to leave his hearers, the dupes, outside the hearer's con-
sciousness. Furthermore, because he tells of himself with ulterior
motives, his hypocrisy and impotence are underplayed, and the final
sales pitch comes somewhat as a surprise.

The actual ”motives" of the Pardoner have been questionedkby
many. This questioning, along with the many explanations supplied,
would indicate a flaw in the plausibility of the character. While I
feel that the Pardoner's actions may be satisfactorily explained by his
desire to prove his cleverness and masculinity, selling pardons to the
Pilgrims in spite of themselves, the nature of the monologue makes it
impossible for Chaucer to say as much without breaking into the episode
as omniscient narrator. He wisely avoids this, but the result is still

less satisfactory than the monologue of the Wife of Bath.

222
The Pardoner's monologue represents a "psychological realism" at
second remove. A masterful portrayal of the methods and rationale of
the medieval pardoner, it is also a telling revelation of one man's
beliefs, values, and subconscious wishes. The mentality which is
revealed is eminently plausible, even when viewed in the light of
modern psychology. As such it is a tribute to Chaucer's abilities to

capture this essence of man's nature and to transform it into art.

IV: THE CANON'S'YEOMAH

Anyone interested in alchemy will speedily learn that the

subject is thus far as the sands of the sea unnumbered.

Notably for the fourteenth century, even the main patterns

of thought can be but guessed at, for we do not have the

texts. Corruptions of Arabic terms combined with garbled

manuscripts and mystical interpretations to produce extra-

ordinary confusion, which the editions of the seventeeggh

century, the best we have as yet, could not set right.
Alchemy, an early forerunner of the science.of chemistry, was a strange
combination of science, superstition, philosophy, and the occult.
Based upon a belief in the essential unity of all creation, the science
sought, through the discovery of the Elixir, Quintessence, or Philoso-
pher's Stone, to restore to the world a golden age of health, wealth,
and happiness. Firsthand knowledge, as John Webster Spargo points out
above in his essay on the sources of the Canon's'Ieoman's Prologue and
Tale, is well-nigh impossible to come by. The alchemists, who considered
themselves initiates into a sacred philosophy, were careful to code and
otherwise confuse as much of their written material as possible. As
the Yeoman himself declares with a wonderful anachronism, even Plato

refuses toddiscover the secret of the philosopher's stone to his

disciples:

223

The philosophres sworn were everychoon

That they sholden discovers it unto noon,

He in no book it write in no manere.

For unto Grist it is so lief and deere

That he wol net that it discovered bee,

But where it liketh to his deitee

Men for t'enspire, and eek for to deffende

Whom that hym liketh. (VIII. 1u6h-1h71)

Our knowledge of alchemy stems from general writings about the
philosophy of the science and from attacks on the less honest alchemists
who, like Chaucer's Canon, made a living from cheating the gullible.
Philosophical writings concerning the science set forth the basic
assumptions, the abuses practiced, and deplore them. Petrus Antonius
Bonus. writing in Butlers We malls 9.2 mean” about
1330 remarks that alchemy is a sacred art known only to pure men. He
is enraged that "rogues and robbers" should encroach upon the domain of
the philosophers so that a supernatural science appears to many to be
trickery. Even the philosophers are cursed by greed; rather than look-
ing for material rewards, they should be content with self-satisfaction.
These themes are repeated by Robert ef‘York, the mysterious "Senior,"
and Arnold de Villa Nova ("Arnoldus of the Howe Toun"). Each emphasizes
the God-given nature of the science and comments that when man turns
away from God through greed, his work is bound to fail. The rogues and
robbers who meddled in the pursuit were plentiful enough in the early
fourteenth century to be condemned by Pope John XXII in the decree "De
Crimini Falsi."22 The Pope states that alchemists deceive both them-
selves and others, and that hence anyone making or using alchemical gold
or silver will be fined the same weight of true gold or silver. If the
offender be a cleric, he shall be deprived of all benefices for the
remainder of his life.

The literary treatments of the alchemist and his trade are very

22h
much in the spirit of the documentary evidence. Potrarch writes that
he always has high hopes for the science, but it never works. Man's
expectations are built up by cupidity, which makes him blind in mind and
body. Alchemists take one's money and disappear.23 Gower writes in the
Eggfgggiguémgnpig of the stone "Mineral," which transmutes base metals
to silver and gold:

Thei spoken faste of thilke Ston,

Bot hou to make it, non wot non

After the sothe experience.

And natheles gret diligence

Thei setten upon thilke dede,

And spills more than thei spede;

For allewey thei finds a lette,

Ihich bringeth in poverte and dette

To hem that riche were afore:

The lost is had, the lucre is lore,

To gets a pound thei spendeth fyve;

I not hou such a craft shal thryve‘

In the manere as it is used:

It were betre be refused

Than forto worchen upon weene

In thing which stant noght as thei weene.
Bot noght forthi, who that it knowe,
The science of himself is trowe 2h
Upon the forms as it was founded . . .

Every reference to the philosophy/science of alchemy is characterized
by its great but unfulfilled potential. As Gower writes, theoretically
it has promise, but man's avarice and inefficiency invariably bring him
nothing.

The lament of the Canon's‘Ieoman is much in this vein. Encouraged
by the Host to expose the tricks of his master, he launches into an
expos‘ of the methods and tricks of alchemy's baser practitioners,
supplemented by a graphic laboratory experiment and a self-serving
display of what knowledge ("termes fewe") he has picked up during his
apprenticeship. While the monologue lacks the vividness of the long

narrative of the life of Bath and the psychological revelations of the

225
confession of the Pardoner, it borrows narrative techniques from both
of them. The confessional revelations are nowhere near so complete or
shocking as in the other monologues, but the Yeoman does manage to
picture both his master and himself in a plausible, lifelike manner.
nonetheless these semi-scientific characters do not share the depth of
the other two.

The Canon's‘Yeoman operates in thought patterns reminiscent of the
Wife of Bath. His remarks are not organized in any consistent way, but
like Alison's, proceed in patterns of free association or stream of
consciousness. He opens with a personal account of how his seven years'
association with the Canon has harmed him:

With this Chanoun I dwelt have seven yeer,

And of his science am I never the user.

Al that I hadde I have lost therby,

And, God woot, so hath many mo than I.

Ther I was wont to be right fressh and gay

Of clothyng and of oother good array,

Noe'may I were an hose upon myn heed;

And where my colour was bothe fressh and reed,

Now is it wan and of a leden hewe,-

lhoso it useth, soore shal he rowel-

And of my swynk yet blered is myn ye.

Lo! which avantage is to multiplie!

That sligynge science hath no maad so bare

That I have no good, wher that evere I fare;

And yet I am endetted so therby,

Of gold that I have borwed, trewely,

That whil I lyve I shal it quite nevere.

Let every man be war by me for evere! (721-737)

These warnings embody both general and specific details. The figure of
seven years establishes a verisimilitude through specificity. The pro-
verbial phrase, to wear a hose on one's head, is general in that it adds
nothing to the visual appearance of the man, but its proverbial origin
imparts the same hominess we find in Alison'saproterbs. His former fresh,

gay appearance is extremely vague, and his current "leden hewe" is only

226

a little more vivid. The "blered" eyes add a graphic detail, but on the
whole, the lines convey an attitude rather than a vivid, lifelike picture.
We are shown not the Yeoman but a picture of the futility of alchemy. His
own losses prompt him to reflect on the habit of nature which makes a
man, having lost all, trick his fellow into the same loss: "For unto
shrewes joys it is and see / To have hir felawes in peyne and disese"
(7h6-7k7).

The ever-recurring theme of the‘Yeoman's lament is,

. . . we concluden eversmoors amys.

We faille of that which that we wolden have,

And in ours madnesse everemoore we rave. (957-959)
The substance of these lines is repeated again and again until it
becomes a sort of refrain and general commentary on alchemy. In the
251 lines which make up the monologue, this theme recurs on an average
of every fifteen lines; it becomes a rondo-like unifying device. The
monologue is composed of specifics which illustrate the futility of the
search for the philosopher's stone.

For all his hardships, we sense that the'Ieoman is nonetheless
impressed by scientific bustle:

lhan we been there as we shul exercise

Oure elvysshe craft, we semen wonder wise,

Oure termes been so clergial and so queynte.

I blowe the fir 1:11 that m herte feynte. (750-753)
The‘Yeoman, as we shall later see, is a "lowed" man who does not under-
stand the "clergial and queynte" terms used around him. Seduced by the
"elvysshe" nature of the "craft,” he willingly knocks himself out to
help. He is proud, too, of what terms he has picked up from his masters.
The mention of terms prompts him to outline these for the pilgrims, and

we enter the body of the monologue. The lists of terms are interspersed

227
with a semi-coherent narration of the experiment itself, which culmi-
nates in the breaking of the pot some 150 lines later. The catalogue
is an old technique by this time, but Chaucer utilizes it here to an
extreme he has not even approached before. There is really no way to
question Chaucer's knowledge of alchemy on the basis of this termino-
logy, for it really tells us little about the science. It gradually
becomes apparent that the Yeoman knows little, too. The compounds,
elements, and chemical reactions are listed by name only, with little
explanation; Chaucer's purpose is to create a scientific atmosphere,
which he does very well.

The first catalogue consists merely of "thyngss whiche that we
werch upon," and includes "oppyment, brent bones, iren squames, / That
into poudre grounden been ful small." All are put in a pot with paper
and salt and sealed, ”That of the eyr mighte passe out nothyng." These
ingredients and this process tell us little, but serve as a typical
example of what the alchemist does. The'Yeoman continues to catalogue
various processes which might be applied to certain metals, punctuating
each item with a comment on its futility. He speaks of

. . . the care and we

That we hadde in ours matires sublymyng,

And in amalgamyng and calcenyng

Of quyksilver, yclept mercurie crude . . .

For alle oure sleightes we kan net conclude.

Oure orpyment and sublymed mercurie,

Oure grounded litargs eek on the porfurie,

Of ech of thise of ounces a certeyn-

Noght helpeth us, sure labour is in veyn.

Ne eek oure'mpirites ascencioun,

Ne oure materes that lyen al fix adoun,

Howe in ours werkyng no thyng us availle,

For lost is al oure labour and travaille. (769-781)

The Yeoman's manner of speaking is reminiscent of the Wife of Bath: one

sentence rattles on for nineteen lines! The breathless narration,

228

coupled with the incredible number of scientific terms, together convey
the mysterious urgency of the laboratory.

The Yeoman has only begun to exhibit his knowledge, however. He
prefaces the next catalogue with the apology topos:

Ther is also ful many another thyng

That is unto ours craft apertenyng.

Though I by ordre hem hat reherce kan,

By cause that I am a lewed man,

Yet wol I telle hem as they come to mynde,

Thogh I ne kan nat sette hes in hir kynde. (78h-789)
A list of various kinds of pots is begun, then interrupted with the
comment "Nat nedeth it for to reherce hem all," then resumed. Like
Alison, the Yeoman cannot bear to stop his exhibition. In a sentence
which goes on for an endless twenty-three lines, he lists a disordered
variety of elements, processes, and sundry related items. Partly it
runs:

latres rubifiyng, and holes galls,

Arsenyk, sal armonyak, and brymstoon;

And herbss koude I telle eek many oon,

As egremoyne, valerian, and lunarie.

And others swiche, if that me lists tarie;

Oure lampes brennyng bothe nyght and day,

To brynge abouts ours purpos, if we may;

Oure fourneys eek of calcinacioun,

And of watrss ahbificacioun;

Unslekked lym, chalk, and gleyre of an ey . . . (797-806)
There is no rhyme or reason for this disordered and haphazard combination.
The Yeoman assaults the reader with the mysteries of the laboratory.
His recital lacks not only scientific organization, but even grammar. He
is, after all, a "lewed man," and his speech reflects both his addiction
to alchemy and the hopelessness of his ever understanding it. The
four spirits and the seven planets and their metals conclude the listing

for the moment.

The‘Yeoman returns to the futility theme, commenting in general

229
terms that no man is wise enough to succeed in alchemy. For the "lewed
man" there is no hope:

To lerne a lewed man this subtiltee-
Fy! spek nat therof, for it wol nat bee. (mm-8&5)

But he has forgotten many things in his musings, and like Alison, he
must return to his subject:

Yet forget I to maken rehersaills

0f watres corosif, and of lymaille,

And of bodies mollificacioun,

And also of hire induracioun;

Oilles, ablucions, and metal fusible,-

To tellen al wolde passsn any bible

That owher is; wherfore, as for the bests,

0f alle thise names new wol I me rests.

For, as I trowe, I have yow toold ynowe

To reyse a feend, al looks he never so rows. (852-861)

The slip of memory brings plausibility to this ignorant man's recita-
tion of the terms he has picked up much in the way the Summoner learned
his Latin. Like that other pilgrim's ”Questio quid iuris?“ the Yeoman'e
terminology is largely meaningless to him, as is witnessed by his in-
ability to organize it in any meaningful way. Moreover, he regards his
list as the ”queynte" terms of an “elvysshe craft," fit to conjure a
devil with. Beneath his scientific exterior rests a superstitious
h.”te

He returns again to the futility topos,expressed this time in
exceedingly general religious terms:

But unto God of hevene I make avow,

For al ours craft, when we han al ydo,

He hath ymaad us spenden muchel good,

For sorwe of which almoost we wexen wood,

But that good hope crepeth in ours herte,

Supposyngs evere, though we sore smerte,

To be releeved by hym afterward.

Swish supposyng and hope is sharp and hard;

I warns yow wel, it is to seken evere. (865-87u)

The repetition has become dull by this time, and the Yeoman's contorted

230
syntax does little to liven it. Its dullness echoes his intellect,
however. He repeats over and over those few things he has learned,
but does not understand.
It is only when he speaks specifically of alchemists and his own
experiences in alchemy that the monologue regains interest:

And everemoore, where that evere they goon,

Hen may hem knowe by smel of brymstoon.

For al the world they stynken as a goot;

Hir savour is so rammyssh and so hoot

That though a man from hem a mile be,

The savour wole infects hym, trusteth me. (88h-889)

The image is vivid and the hominess of the goat retrieves this odd
recital from the laboratory. The most vivid part of the narration
follows:

Er that the pot be on the fir ydo,.

Of metals with a certeyn quantitee,

My lord hem tempreth, and no man but he-
Now he is goon, I dar seyn boldely-

For, as men seyn, he kan doon craftily.
Algate I woot wel he hath swich a name,
And yet ful ofte he renneth in a blame.
And wite ye how? ful ofte it happsth so,
The pot tobreketh, and farewel, al is go!
Thise metals been of so greet violence,
Oure walles mowe nat make hem resistance,
But if they weren wroght of lymaand stoon;
They percen so, and thurgh the wal they goon.
And seams of hem aynken into the ground-
Thus han we lost by tymes many a pound-
And somme are scatered al the floor abouts;
Somme lepe into the roof. (899-915)

For the first time in the monologue we sense that the Yeoman is actually
speaking to the pilgrims. The parenthetical interruptions at the begin-
ning of the passage, in which he comments once more on his master before
resuming the tale of pot and fire, are colloquial, explanatory, and convey
the same informal tone as Alison's interruptions of herself. He

addresses a rhetorical question to his listeners, much as Alison does,

231

and he seeks to explain what happened in layman's language, something he
was incapable of doing with respect to the terminology.

Chaucer constructs a superb crowd-scene in which the scientists
argue and quibble about the cause of the accident:

Whan that ours pot is broke, as I have sayd,

Every man chit, and halt hym yvele apayd.

Somme seyde it was long on the fir makyng;

Somme seyde nay, it was on the blowyng,-

Thanne was I fared, for that was myn office.

"Straw!" quod the thridde, "ye been lewed and nyce.

It was met tempred as it oghte be."

"Nay," quod the fourths, "stynt and herkne me.

By cause our fir me was not seed of beech,

That is the cause, and oother noon, so thee'ch!" . . .

"What," quod my lord, "ther is namoore to doone;

Of thise perils I wol be war eftsoone.
I am right siker that the pot was erased." (920-929; 932-93h)

The postmortems are‘conveyed with a hyperbols-"somme seyde," "somme
seyde," "every man . . ."-which produces the impression that there are
some two dozen alchemists. The colloquialisms of the men are vivid and
believable. Each has his own peculiarity: the first insults his fellows
in his anger; the second calls to be heard; the third speaks with the
northern "thee'ch"; the Canon's final explanation is filled with
general and trite consolations. The Yeoman too, reacts in fear that he
may be blamed. But the pieces are swept up and sifted for salvageable
ingredients:

The mullok on an heep ysweped was,

And on the floor ycast a canevas,

And al this mullokfin a syve ythrowe,

And sifted, and ypiked many a throws. (938-9a1)
The loss is rationalized with numerous sayings, none of which adds any
life to the picture:

Although this thyng myshapped have as now,

Another tyms it may be well ynow.

us moste putts ours good in aventure.
A marchant, pardee, may met my endure,

232

Trusteth me wel, in his prosperitee.
Somtyme comth it sauf unto the loads. (9hh-950)

The true scientist is sustained by his eternal hope of success. But
the Yeoman, hardly one of the true scientists, is left to infer that "We
concluden everemoore amys."

The monologue is ostentatiously dull in the Yeoman's efforts to
explain alchemy from an inexperienced layman's point of view. His
catalogues of terms are impressive in their amplitude and in their
creation of atmosphere; they also reveal the‘Yeoman's intellect through
their disorganization and their failure really to tell us anything
about alchemy. Likewise, the‘Yeoman's appreciation of the mysteries of
alchemy is limited. Though he repeats again and again.the conventional
arguments against the science-~it is a waste of money which produces
nothing; it is used to cheat the gullible, etc.-his warnings are much
like the proverbial jay's "latte!" or the Summonsr's Latin. Without
appreciable variation the warnings are dull and meaningless because they
are only part of the half-hearted-efforts of the addict to reform him-
self. The Yeoman is captivated by the science of alchemy. Recognizing
its futility, he is typical of all gullible people who know better but
are taken in anyway. He is himself the exemplum of his argument. The
mysterious, even hellish, atmosphere he imputes to the science, together
with his obvious delight in its terms "clergial and queynte" which he
does not comprehend, outweigh his oft-repeated warnings.

The monologue is a masterpiece of the use of'23glig. The reader
is overwhelmed by scientific detail which serves to create a general
mood and to characterize the Yeoman. This detail, along with the
brilliant relation of the alchemists' postmortem, brings verisimilitude

to the monologue. Furthermore, as the ostensible narration of the

233
actual operations of one alchemist, the monologue establishes a "real
life" background for the tale proper which follows it. In the tale we
find the same arguments reiterated under a fictional guise, only with
more emphasis on trickery. The change of emphasis is possible since
the Yeoman is no longer ostensibe speaking of an operation with which
he is connected; it also serves to impart considerably more interest to
the subject, since trickery involves a focus on the psychology of the
villain and the dupe.

As realistic portrayal the Canon's Yeoman's monologue lags far
behind that of the Pardoner and even farther behind the life of Bath.
The focus is considerably narrower than either of the others, interest
in the personality of the Yeoman is likewise less, and the methods of
portrayal too are less varied. The Yeoman's monologue clearly lacks
the brilliance of Alison's performance, but we must remember that this
is in part because he is a considerably duller figure whose experience
has carried him beyond his depth. Furthermore, he is portrayed only
in connection with his occupation; he lacks depth and individualization.
His own flat character is mirrored in his speech; he talks as much to
himself as to the pilgrims, and his lack of interest in them, indicated
in the speech by his singular concern with alchemy, serves to dehumanize
him. His character is completely opposite Alison's in that while he
resolves to tell of alchemy's influences on himself, he becomes so caught
up in alchemy that his ostensible subject is invariably submerged in a
list of terminology. Alison, on the contrary, professes to speak of
-her husbands, but finds it impossible to speak of anything but herself.
The realism of the Canon's'Yeoman's monologue is not that of realistic

character portrayal-he is a rather dull and ordinary man-but of the

23h
laboratory experiment. It is the breaking of the pot and the picking
up afterwards which lives in the memory. The Yeoman's dullness is not
able to obscure the concern, irritation, anger, and especially his own

fear-ths elements from life-owhich make up this episode.

235

NOTES TO CHAPTER IV

1v. 1". Bryan and Germaine Dempster, eds. Sogces ang Agalggpes g1

Changer'g Canterbm Talgg, (New York: 1958), 209. Translation from
I, W. Woollcombe, "The Sources of the Wife of Bath's Prologue," Changer

Society flbligatigpg, Series 2, No. 16, (London: 1903), 298.

2All quotations from the Roman _d_e_ A; pose are from the edition of
Felix Lecoy, (Paris: 1966). All translations are from Charles Dahlberg,

tr., The Romange g; thg Rgge, (Princeton: 1971).

3Haldeen Braddy, "Chaucer—Realism or Obscenity?" ALE-£519.11
Quarterly, 2 (1969), 1219158.

“Robert Hellman and Richard O'Gorman, eds. Fabliagz: Riblag Talgg
mm thg ng goggh, (New York: 1965).

Sims and We. 220-
6

All quotations from "La Veuve" are from Charles H. Livingston,
L; W Gautier lg Leg, (Cambridge: 1951). Translations are from
Hellman and O'Gorman.

7a. R. om. Limes: an mm in M «ii mania. and rev.
ed. (Oxford: 1961), 392.

8mmwl e . #09.

9J. J. Jusserand, 9.1.5.3252 Wayfargg Lif_e, 175.

1 oJusserand, 176.

11Alfred L. Kellogg and Louis A. Haselmayer, "Chaucer's Satire of

the Pardoner," PHLA, 66 (1951), 252.

 

12Kel.il.ogg and Haselmayer, 253.
13Jusserand, 178-179.

mArnold Iilliams, "Some Documents on English Pardonerl. 13504400”
202.

15‘

16Kellogg and Haselmeyer, 259 ff.

ellogg and Haselmayer, 267-268.

17Kellogg and Haselmayer, 259 n. 51.

18Jusserand, 185-187.

236

‘9George Lyman Kittredge, "Chaucer's Pardoner," A an , 72
(1893) . 829-833.

20John Webster Sparse. "Th“ Canon's'Yeoman'B Prologue and Tale,"
w and W. 685.

21.523.12.35 as Law. 695-696.
22% a_n_d. W: 691. 692.
ZSFrancis Petrarch, "De Alchima," Sopgcgg gag Agalggflog, 692-593,

21+(lower, angessio Amantis, IV. 2581-2599.

CHAPTER V: CONCLUSION

. . . The mimetic tendency itself, the tendency to verisimili-
tude and accuracy of description, is one of two poles of liter-
ature. At the other pole is something that seems to be connected
both with Aristotle's word gythog and with the usual meaning of
myth. That is, it is a tendency to tell a story which is in
origin a story about characters who can do anything, and only
gradually becomes attracted toward a tendency to tell a plausi-
ble or credible story. . . . imitation of nature in fiction pro-
duces, not truth or reality, but plausibility, and plausibility
varies in weight from a mere perfunctory concession in a myth

or folk tale to a kind of censor principle in a naturalistic
novel. Reading forward in history, therefore, we may think of
our romantic, high mimetic and low mimetic modes as a series

of displageg myths, lythoi or plot-formulas progressively
moving over towards the opposite pole of yerisimilitude, and
then, with irony, beginning to move back.

Like Erich Auerbach and art historian Max Dvorak, Northrup Frye sees in
literature a spectrum which stretches from myth, or the ideal, to the
mimetic, or imperfect. The mythic tale is characterized by a complete
lack of earthly limitations which we know, and has scant concern with
the lifelike or credible. Himetic or realistic fiction encompasses a
wide range of literature which evidences at least fragmentary concern
for verisimilitude. As mimetic literature becomes more and more the
vehicle of irony, it approaches once again the idealistic concerns of
the mythic mode. Because he allows no work to stand in isolation from
its mythic archetype, Frye's theory has much in common with the medieval
mind which views life and literature in a figural way. Auerbach, we
must remember, states that

. . . an occurrence on earth signifies not only itself but at

the same time another, which it predicts or confirms, without

prejudice to the power of its concrete reality here and now.

The connection between occurrences is not regarded as primarily

237

238

a chronological or causal development but as a oneness within

the divine p an, of which all occurrences are parts and

reflections.

Similarly, Dvorhk writes of Gothic art:

For Gothic art is not based on the principle of antithesis;

it rests rather upon the concept of union, and that which it

encloses (without isolating it) is a section of the infinite

universe, which was to be transformed into an artistic medium,

a source of artistic sensation and significance, by filling it

with relationships of a tganscendent legitimacy within the

area of sense perception.

Thus our examination of the mimetic aspects of Chgucer's art deals with
only a part of the aesthetic principles which governed the artistic
expression of the Middle Ages. In this chapter we shall attempt to
draw some conclusions concerning the mimetic aspects of the "frame"
portion of the ggptgghpry,gglgg and to evaluate Chaucer's mimesis in
terms of the figural spectrum of which it forms a part.

While many scholars have expressed reservations concerning the
term "Chaucerian realism," none has questioned the vivid, lively
qualities which have made Chaucer a favorite for sovmany centuries.
The problem at hand is not to prove that these qualities exist, but to
analyze them with as much precision as possible and to formulate a
description, based upon those qualities, which will define this typically
Chaucerian vividness and liveliness with some exactitude. The dangers
into which imprecision of terminology can lead us were outlined in
Chapter One, but bear repeating at this point. Obviously the use of
the term realism--cr even worse, naturalism--is of little help without
careful definition or qualification. Definition according to modern
standards is extremely misleading, since modern and medieval poetics

diverge in purpose and form. ‘Yst the fact that modern realism is not

applicable to the Middle Ages should not cause us to deny the exidtence

239

of a medieval realism. Realism has all too often been viewed as a niche
into which entire works must fit. But as Frye remarks, "plausibility
varies in weight from a mere perfunctory concession in a myth or folk
tale to a kind of censor principle in a naturalistic novel." Kinetic
and miraculous or fairy-tale elements often exist side by side in
medieval literature, and we must resist the temptation to categorize
entire works. Medieval reilism is not isolated from other varieties
of characterization, narrative management, or description. Moreover,
realism cannot be viewed apart from convention and idealization.
Scholars have fallen prey to the idea that if it's realistic, it can't
be conventional and vice versa. Convention, though not quite so widely
abused a term as realism, has served as a sort of catch-all for
characteristics which are typical of a given character or situation.
Yet conventions are frequently distillations or summary formulations
of those very things which constitute "realistic" images. Convention
too has profited from few careful examinations whose aim is to point
out truly conventional elements and to distinguish them from what we
might call "convention-like” details which are really variations on
conventions. Lastly, it is far too easy to view either the mimetic or
the idealized-mythic, as Frye would have it-aspects of literature
with an insularity which, in concentrating on either the exegetical or
the transitory, ignores the vital figural aspects of medieval society,
art, and religion. In this study I have tried to avoid these many pitfalls.

My attempts to define Chaucerian realism have proceeded along an
inductive path. The General Prologue and pilgrimage have been analyzed
in an attempt to discover exactly what combinations of techniques produce

the vividness and liveliness which conttitute mimesis. The two major

240

divisions which compose the frame of the Qangggppgz_23;£§-the General
Prologue and the end-links-are dominated by descriptive and dramatic
modes, respectively. It is Chaucer's announced intention in the
General Prologue to describe the pilgrims-how they looked, what they
did, and what he thought of them, although he does little on the last
point. In the end-links we view the pilgrimage from a relatively
objective point of view. The portrayal is dramatic insofar as the
pilgrims themselves provide the narration with little conment from the
narrator. The General Prologue and end-links both contribute to the
characterization of the pilgrims, the one through the narrator's
descriptions, the other through dramatic techniques which allow the
characters to act out parts suggested by the portraits of the General
Prologue. Within the "dramatic" parts of the 2312; we find yet other
subdivisions of dialogue and monologue. The short end-links are con-
trolled by action and dialogue, the longer confessional prologues by
narration and self-revelation. Within these categories we find a wide
range of poetic techniques by means of which Chaucer draws pictures
which are entertaining, lifelike, meaningful, yet also individualized.

Chaucer's portraiture, like that of all good writers, is built
on a foundation of descriptive detail. Concrete, visual images are used
to convey information concerning the appearance, occupation, and social
status of the pilgrims. A lifelike atmosphere is evoked by local
references-the background of the pilgrimage-and terms borrowed from
various occupations-the catalogues of the portraits of the Man of Law,
Cook, and Reeve, and the alchemical terminology of the Canon's Yeoman.
The degree of mimetic realization which a personage manifests is deter-

mined by the poet's focus in the portrait. Vivid, concrete details

241

are one of Chaucer's main concerns in the sketches of the pilgrims who
are portrayed primarily in terms of occupation, such as the Yeoman and
Physician. Such characterization is primarily external, but is essential
to the subsequent creation of a mimetic character. Starting with this
base of descriptive detail, Chaucer creates figures of varying degrees
of mimetic realization; the realism of each figure is dependent upon
the type and extent of other characterizational material added to the
portrait. Evidence of the character's attitudes and values is probably
the most important element, in addition to concrete description, in the
portrayal of a mimetic character. The figures which are most mimetic,
which strike the reader more than any others as complex and complete
characterizations, are portrayed in several contexts. Values and
beliefs are usually expressed through skillful adaptation or modification
of conventions. Chaucer chooses conventional attributes of the occu-
pation of which the pilgrim is a generic representative, then varies
them; he almost never leaves a convention unchanged, and because of
this constant variation his fundamentally conventional material strikes
the reader as concrete, brilliant, and fresh, never dull or trite. The
convention brings with it a set of accumulated attitudes, habits, and
customary actions that it has acquired through the centuries, which can
be counted upon to produce almost stock responses. Through it the
pilgrim acquires personality traits which are the fulfillment (or
frustration? of reader expectations also built up through generations.

Other facets of Chaucer's characterization are more subtle and
can best be expressed as the poet's complex manipulation of levels of
humor and irony. The heart(of Chaucerian irony is the naive narrator

Persona. This unassuming figure provides a slightly obtuse but

aha

extremely personal view of the pilgrims. Through the narrator's naivete
Chaucer can manipulate many levels of irony with a seeming innocence,
often at the expense of subject, narrator, and reader alike. The unpre-
tentiousness of the self-appointed chronicler contributes to verisimili-
tude in almost a negative way: the narrator seems so sincere in his
careful attempts to get everything right that we see no reason to doubt
him. These careful attempts, sometimes ostentatiously careful, contri-
bute heavily to the plausibility topos. By often recalling to his read-
er's minds that he is merely recording what happened, Chaucer keeps us
constantly aware hf the verisimilitude he seeks to establish. The naive
narrator contributes to both the illusion of reality and the character-
ization of the pilgrims in the seemingly haphazard arrangement of his
comments. This apparent disorganization produces an informality of tone
which is in keeping with the narrator's personality and.with the illusion
of chronicle; it is one of the most characteristic attributes of Chaucer-
ian narrative. It also provides a field for the innocent ironies which
spring from odd Juxtaposition and contrasts, of which we suspect the
narrator himself is unaware. A great deal of the information concerning
the pilgrims' moral and spiritual conditions is conveyed in this non-
explicit manner through implication or seemingly innocent allusion.
Allusion and irony often supply the final mimetic touches to a figure
who is fully described in terms of externals, but the lacks the "life"
which information concerning his beliefs and attitudes imparts to the
Personation.

We have observed throughout our survey that the least mimetic figures
’ are characterized in idealized terms; their portrayal is prescriptive

rather than descriptive, and though still present, concrete detail in

21+}

the idealized portraits is kept to an absolute minimum. The most life-
like of Chaucer's creations are those portrayed in their faults, short-
comings, and transitory earthliness. Chaucer never makes them figures of
vices, however; his view is always generous, and though it is humorous,
it is not condemnatory. The Chaucerian irony of which we so often
speak forms the bridge between the earth-bound mimetic figures and the
idealized touchstones. In irony we find the implicit comparison of what
man is with what he potentially can be. Each figure contains a potential
for perfection, and Chauceris irony forever reminds us of that fact. As
F179 says.

The ironic fiction-writer, then, deprecates himself and, like

Socrates, pretends to know nothing, even that he is ironic.

Complete objectivity and suppression of all explicit moral

Judgements are essential to his method. Thus pity and fear

are not raised in ironic art: they are reflected to the reader

from the art. When we try to isolate the ironic as such, we

find that it seems to be simply the attitude of the poet as

such, a dispassionate construction of a literary form, with

all assertive elements, implied or expressed, eliminated.

Irony, as a mode, is born from the low mimetic; it takes life

exactly as it finds it. But the ironist ables without moral-

izing, and has no object but his subject.
Irony, Frye says later, "passes through the dead center of complete
realism." "The ironic . . . is a vision of what in theology is called
the fallen world, of simple humanity, man as natural man and in conflict
with both human and non-human nature."5 Similarly Chaucerian irony is
rooted in Chaucerian realism while at the same time contributing to it,
for realism too is a portrayal of "man as natural man." Moral judgment
is very much a part of the total effect of irony, but, as we have seen,
Chaucer is usually careful to avoid judgment while nevertheless giving

the reader evidence upon which to draw his own conclusions. This too is

at the heart of Chaucerian realism. The lifelike character is a

24h

combination of character traits, moral faults, and occasional virtues
which prompt in the reader no single reaction, such as moral condemnation,
but a mixed response to a personage's varied characteristics. When
Chaucer achieves this, he is at the height of mimetic portrayal.

I have consistently used the drama as a metaphor to describe Chaucer's
handling of the pilgrimage. The drama, more than any other literary form,
creates the illusion that the spectator apprehends actual life; that
same illusion issproduced by the action and dialogue of the end-links.

The unassuming narrator shrinks in stature to near nonentity, leaving

the characters and scenario of the Tale; seemingly autonomous under the
rather inept control of the Host. The events which follow, like the
narrator's descriptive techniques, appear haphazard yet do contain a
number of unifying themes. Like the General Prologue, the end-links

are crafted so as to seem lifelike--as if they actually occurred that
way--yet are all the while controlled by a high degree of artistry.
Typical of this is the drawing by which the pilgrims select the first
tale-teller; the Knight is chosen W by chance, yet it is only
right that he be first. Chaucer allows the end-links likewise to develop
in a seemingly haphazard way so that many tales-no doubt all, had he
finished-are motivated by chance reactions to the previous tale. The
resultant rivalry in the pilgrims' aim to tell the tale of best "sentence"
and most "solas" produces unifying themes which may be themes of subject--
the Marriage Group-or of literary mode-~satire of occupations. The con-
sistent and obtrusive presence of the Host further unifies the pilgrimage
through the humor and ironies which revolve around that figure.

Technically the soul of the pilgrimage is dialogue. Chaucer gives

every indication that he possessed an outstanding ear for the speech of

2&5
all kinds of people in the busy world around him, for he captures so
many varieties of expression. He is a master at indicating social
position, geographical antecedents, and emotions of all kinds through
his transcription of dialogue. Comparison with almost any contemporary
serves to put his skill inca golden light. His talent is not merely that
of transcription, however. He is not a member of the "grunt, scratch,
and bilch" school of dramatists who faithfully portray every human or
animal-like sound. His selectivity is precise and wonderfully accurate
in the ability to include enough of the hens and haws of life to convey
a realistic tone. Yet he never surfeits the reader with a plethora of
exclamations, lost trains of thought, or line-fillers.

Much as in the descriptions of the General Prologue Chaucer
utilizes focus to point up the important. Avoiding the "field ful of
folk" panorama, he is free to concentrate on individuals, producing
yet another realistic effect. He does not exclude background, however.
When used, references to the pilgrimage locals are always specific and
belong much to the actual world; background too becomes a means to
plausibility.

It is perhaps in the dramatic monologues-especially in that of the
Wife of Bath-that Chaucer is at his artistic summit. The techniques of
the end-links are all still utilized but are supplemented by what has
often been called a "psychological realism." Chaucer, of course, was no
more psychologist than any other great author, but through his superb
handling of mimetic techniques and characterization he has created
passages which may indeed be said to partake of "psychological realism."
As with the mimetic descriptions of the General Prologue, the realism

of the monologues is heavily dependent upon illusion. Chaucer handles

246
his materials in such a way as to give the illpgign that we are seeing
into the mind, heart, and soul of his characters. In such a creation
even QQEQEA faithfulness to humanity is irrelevant, for the passages
22223; lifelike to the reader who is induced to shed every trace of
disbelief.

The materials from which the monologues are constructed, it has
been long noted, are highly derivative. Host of the Wife of Bathts
speech, much of the Pardoner's, and at least some of the Canon's Yeoman's
materials are conventional; antecedents may be found in the satires,
fabliaux, and documents of the Middle Ages. Much of this material has
also been used by other medieval poets in whose hands it is singularly
unmimetic. Chaucer's mastery of the techniques of the confessional
monologue is the key to the realism of these passages. As in some of the
portraits of the General Prologue, satirical material is adapted, varied,
and greatly changed in impact by the confessional mode. When a complex
character mouths satirical commonplaces the reader is required to examine
those commonplaces in the light of the fully-characterized speaker.‘ The
continued use of the techniques of dialogue furthers the illusion that
the speaker tells an informal tale among friends; the presence of an
interested, even intense, audience contributes to the illusion of
realism. And very importantly, the use of the haphazard technique-
most notably in Alison's monologue-likewise reinforces the impressions
of informality, spontaneity, and the careful mirroring of the thought
process.

The idealized members of the pilgrimage rarely participate in the
action-oriented portions of the Cantgrbpgz Tglgg. Only an occasional

reference brings them to mind, reasserting, when it does appear, the

247
implicit comparison of actual and ideal which is pointed up in the
General Prologue by the poet's irony. The idealized figures are not
easily dramatized with plausibility, however. As in saints' legends,
the reader must be persuaded or enticed, rather than convinced, to
surrender his disbelief, with the result that saints' legends are more
fairy tale than realistic fiction. The endplinks and monologues
concentrate on the more earthly of the pilgrims. The reader is all the
more likely to concur with the poet's portrayal when the figures involved
are many-sided, fraught with faults and personality quirks, than when
they are depicted as static ideals who offer little potential for
action.

Thus the realism of the "frame" portion of the gaggggpgzz;gg;gg
may be seen to consist of several major elements: vivid concrete
descriptive detail creates characters and surroundings which seem life-
like and plausible to the reader; conventions are freely used and
habitually varied to present the personalities and values of the figures
depicted; lifelike interaction of the pilgrims accompanied by natural
dialogue, seemingly unstilted and unprogramed by literary or scholarly
precepts, produces an informal youpare-there atmosphere in which
characterization is substantiated and developed; consistent use of
haphazard organization and juxtaposition adds to the chronicled-from-
life topos; irony and humor, based on the naive narrator persona, con-
tribute an implicit level of characterization and moral judgment which
serves to set pilgrims and pilgrimage in the context of the medieval
werld-in a world in which all actions are in a figural way, part of
the divine plan.

In seeking to place Chaucer's art in the context of medieval

248
aesthetics, one finds most enlightening :parallels in the plastic and
visual arts. There is of course a danger in drawing analogies between
the essentially different arts of literature and sculpture, but I believe
that certain parallels exist which shed light upon the question of a
medieval realism. The art historians of the past half century have
devoted considerable attention to the aesthetics of the representation
of reality: Emile Male,6 Erwin Panofsky,7 Max Dvorak, and Otto von Simeon8
have all contributed useful interpretations of the relationships between
the actual and spiritual worlds and art and architecture. While this
study cannot possibly present a comprehensive history of the development
of medieval art, a few comments on that development may aid in assessing
Chaucer's place among those creative artists who mirror the actual
world in their works.

Emile Male, writing shortly after the turn of this century; was the
first to attempt to temper the prevailing nineteenth century trend which
saw all elements of every kind of medieval art in a purely symbolic or
exegetical way. The great minds of the Middle Ages, writes Male,9 did see
the world as a symbol of a higher reality. But these critics who persist
in seeing all things medieval as symbols ignore, among other things,
the reaction of St. Bernard to the grotesques of the cloisters:

As he walked in the magnificent cloisters of his order St.

Bernard also had reflected on the beasts and monsters carved

on the capitals, and like us had asked himself what they might

mean. "What are these fantastic monsters doing in the cloisters,"

he said, "under the very eyes of the brothers as they read? . . .

What is the meaning of these unclean monkeys, these savage lions,

and monstrous centaurs? To what purpose are here placed these

creatures, half-beast, half-man, or these spotted tigers? I see
several bodies with one head and several heads with one body.

Here is a quadruped with a serpent's head, there a fish with a

quadruped's head, there again an animal half-horse, half-goat.

. . Surely if we do not blush for such absurdities we should at

least regret what we have spent on them!" . . . It seems that
Bernard had less penetration than our ingenious {contemporaries}

249

. . . Here the great mystic, the interpreter of the Song of

Songs, the preacher who spoke only in symbols, confessed that

he did not understand the fantastic creations of his own day.

. . . Such testimony settles the question. It is evident that

the fauna and flora of mediaeval art, natural or16antastic, has

he most cases a value that is purely decorative.

Male proceeds to point out the almost botanical accuracy of the flora

of thirteenth century sculpture. The botanist may find in the cathedrals
scientifically accurate representations of plantain, arum, ranunculus,
fern, clover, celandine, hepatica, columbine, cross, parsley, straw-
berry, ivy, snapdragon, the flower of the broom, and the oak leaf.

These plants have sometimes been "simplified but not distorted,"11 a
characteristic which corresponds to the careful selection and arrange-
ment of details by the literary realist.

Nor was the actual world despised as a model by artists to the
degree which some exegetes imply. The sketchbook of thirteenth century
architect Villard de Honnecourt abounds with studies of animals and
even includes a grasshopper, a cat, a fly, a dragonfly, and a lobster,
as well as bears, swans, parrots, and a chained lion, resident of some
great lord's menagerie. Villard wished it to be known that the lion was
done from life: "Eh bien saciés que cil lion fut contrefais al vif."12

The nonsymbolic, purely decorative figures constitute only a
portion of medieval art, however, corresponding to the vivid, external,
yet nonessential details in Chaucer, such as the hole for the cat in the
Miller's Tale. Such decorative material is highly entertaining-the
fanciful bordersvof illuminated manuscripts are only one other example-
but would be meaningless without a more serious text. we must look, as
does Auerbach, to the degree and manner in which realistic subjects are
treated seriously. And again we turn to DvorAk's seminal work which

traces the changing relationship between idealized and realistic

250

portrayals in Gothic art:

In the medieval view nothing in the universe is without

significance, even the most seemingly inconsequential

object stands in some relationship to the wisdom of the

eternal Weltordnung which governs all. The degree of

significance, however, varies and unfolds in a hierarchical

order of precedence from the lower limited and objectively

differentiated material objects of ever higher beings, the

higher rank characterized by the measure of universality and

permanence possessed by each being as opposed to individuality

and transitoriness. It is in this universality of the higher

beings, that the ascending simplification of reality resides-

temporally and materially conditioned disgrepgggy is replaced

by the unity of the all-encompassing idea in an unknown ascent

to the very highest idea of the eterngl divine Being who is

above every form of differentiation.
This, of course, is nothing other than a manifestation of the figural
cast of mind which Auerbsch sees as dominant in the Middle Ages. The
ultimate embodiment of the figural principle in literature is Dante's
Commegia: souls in hell are remarkably individual; those in heaven
possess only the human voice. We have seen the same idealistic non-
individualization in Chaucer's portrayal of Parson and Plowman. The
less perfect the pilgrim, the more individualized he becomes, within
limits, of course. (we certainly cannot rank the pilgrims morally or
spiritually on the basis of the degree of mimesis in their portrayals.)

Dvorak bases his interpretations upon the writings of St. Thomas
Aquinas. He sees a development in Gothic art which he likens to the
philosophical movement from Platonism and Aristotelianism, a movement
which is reflected in the gradual shift in emphasis from idealism to
artistic naturalism. The change is a gradual one; this "discovery of
the world as a reflection of individual consciousness"1“ takes place in
the hundred years from the mid-fourteenth to the mid-fifteenth centuries-
precisely in Chaucer's lifetime. It is perhaps not surprising to find a

parallel change in Chaucer's literature. Dvorak writes:

251

Medieval spiritualism whose significance for art one at the
present time can only surmise rather than actually know formed
the vast basis for the return to nature and the sensible world
formally as well as objectively. As I have already indicated,
this process was based upon a new universal, spiritual compro-
mise with finite reality that was considered to be a type of
stage for the actualization of meritorious deeds; even more, it
was recognized as a necessary prerequisite for the external life
of the elect. In art this compromise was expressed by a new
perspective vis-Z-vis nature; it utilized an approach which no
longer considered nature as something axiomatically meaningless
in the interpretation of artistic tasks and goals-it was rather
to be cgunted among the very means for the realization of these
goals.

The reality-or even super-reality--of tho spiritual, in other words, is
unquestioned; but what we learn, we learn through the senses from indi-
vidual experiences. The ultimate exemplar of the compromise of the
natural and the spiritual is Jan van Eyck (d. 11m), whose individuals
glow with a light which adds spirituality to very evident portraiture.
This "compromise" typifies the guiding concept of unity which, in oppo-
sition to any kind of antithesis of realism and idealism, is a prime
characteristic of figural Gothic art. Realism does not yet supplant
the symbolic or the exegetical; it rather supplements them. In time,
of course, the ideal is replaced by what Dvorak calls an "extreme empiri-
cal anti-idealism."16 But at that point the movement away from the
figural conception of the world passes to philosOPhy. not literature:
This is the very same path taken almost contemporaneously in
epistemology by the neonominalists and terminists Durand, William
of Ockham and John Buridan when they attempted theoretically to
reduce all knowledge and all truth, attainable by man by means of
his own power, to isolated data of sense experience. "Science is
concerned with external phenomena and since in the world of reality
there are no universals, knowledge cannot have its origin in the
universal but only in the particular"-this in.essence is the
teaching of Ockham, the great precursor of Bacon and Spinoza;
these theories can likewise serve as a commentary on what soon

thereafter became a fait accempli primarily in France, the actual
ideal center of these new epistemological theories. 7

Literature and the sciences part company; neither Chaucer nor his

252
immediate followers went the way of Ockham, Buridan, and Durand. The
poets occupy rather a middle ground, that of the compromise visually
manifested by Jan van Eyck, and not far from the Thomistic position of
"Moderate Realism." They are concerned still with universals, but find
the particular a mosteffective way to lead the reader to a truth which
is beyond the visible externals.

Chaucer's work encompasses these changing aesthetic currents of the
Middle Ages. He offers, through the sensations of this earthly life, a
spiritual lesson concerning the individual pilgrimage of every soul to
the Celestial Jerusalem. The eternal verities are vivified by exacting
and artistic choice of particulars and lifelike actions and dialogue.
The fabric of the Qappgng z Tglgg is composed of carefully interwoven
stylized and mimetic materials. Chaucer's realism is not of the "common-
or-garden" variety which produces a faithful copy of life around.him;
his art selects, combines, and transforms the materials of both life and
literature, convention, and individuality. The resultant poem is much
like the flowery branches of the medieval artist: individual parts-the
leaves, the blossoms-are almost photographically true to life, but are
arranged in flowing, stylized patterns to fulfill the purpose of their
being, whether it be to fill the corner of a page or provide the border
of a mosaic. Medieval realism is a complex combination of apparent
faithfulness to life as we know it and to truth as the poet perceives it.
Careful attention to realistic detail and to the artistic effect of the
whole, together with the artist's awareness of the figural relationship
of his earthly creation and the heavenly reality produce the illusion
which we call mimettsn-the lifelike, vivid work of art which also possess-
es meaning, or "sentence.” This is Chaucer's mimesis, perhaps the most

striking Western form of medieval realism.

253

NOTES TO CHAPTER V

1Northrup Frye, Anatomy 91 Criticism, (New York: 1967, orig. pub.
195?). 51-520

2Auerbach, 555.

Dvorak, 70.

Frye, hO-ln.

Frye. 285.

6Emile Male, The gm 1M2: Religions ALE 1,; EM 91 311.2

Thirteenth Centm, trans. Dora Nussey, (New York: 1958, orig. pub.
1913).

7
1958).

3
h
5

Erwin Panofsky, Gothig gghipegpgge w W, (New York:

8Otto von Simeon, 1h; 9331132 Ca e al, (New York: 1956).
9Ma‘le, 118.

1Omaha, h8-h9.

11Mfile, 52.

12,431. 9 55e
13

1#

Dvorak, 86, 113.
DVOi'alk . #6 e

15Dvorak, 77.

17Dvorak, 132.

BIBLI OGRAPHY

25k

BIBLIOGRAPHY

LIST OF PRIMARY SOURCES CITED

Adams, Joseph Quincy. Chief Pge-Shakespearean Dramas. Cambridge: 192A.

Bryan, W. F. and Dempster, Germain, eds. Sources and Analogges'_f
Chaucerig Canterbury Tales. New York: 1958.

Chaucer, Geoffrey. The Works 9; Geoffrey Chaucer, ed. F. N. Robinson,
2nd ed., Boston: 1961.

Deguileville, Guillaume. Pelerinage‘gg la Vie Humain, tr. John Lydgate.
EeEe'I-‘ese, eeSe 83, London: 1901e

Gower, John. The Complete Workg‘g; John Gower, ed. G. C. Macaulay. 4 vols.
Oxford: 1899-1902.

. Confessio Amantis, ed. Russell Peck. New'York: 1968.

 

Hellman, Robert and O'Gorman, Richard, eds. Fabliaux: Ribaid Tales
from the Old French. New'York: 1965.

. The Romance 91 the Rose, tr. Charles Dahlberg. Princeton:
1971.

*w*”*

2 vols. London: 192A.
Livingston, Charles H. Lg Jongleur Gautier lg_Leg. Cambridge, 1951.

Ludus Coventriae, 2; The Plaie Called Corpus Chr sti, ed. K. 8. Block.
EeEeTeSe, Sea. 120’ London: 1922s

Paris, Matthew. Chronica Majors, ed. Henry Richards Luard. Rolls Series,
57, London: 1872-1883.

St. Bonaventure. Life of St. Francis. London: 1912.

*—

 

Wright, Thomas, ed. Political Poemg and Songs Relating 39 English
Histogy. 2 vols. Rolls Series, 14, London: 1859-1861.

255

Wyclif, John. English Works 9; flyclif Hithertg Unprinted, ed. F. D.
Matthew. E.E.T.S., o.s. 7h, London: 1880.

SELECTED SCHOLARSHIP

Auerbach, Erich. Mimesis: The Representatibn 9; Reality ig Western
Literature, tr. Willard Trask. Princeton: 1955.

Bédier, Joseph. Les Fabliaux. Paris: 1925-

Bloomfield, Morton W. "Authenticating Realism and the Realism of
Chaucer." Thought, 39 (196A), 335-358.

Bowden, Muriel. A_Commentary 2n the General Prologue 3g the Canterbury
Tales. New York: 1948.

Braddy, Haldeen. "Chaucer-~Realism or Obscenity?" Arlington Quarterly,
2 (1969), 121-138.

Coulton, G. G. The Medieval Village. Cambridge: 1925.

Curry, Walter Clyde. Chance; and he Medieval Sgiences. New York: 1926.

Curtius, Ernst Robert. European Literature and the Latin Middle Ages,
tr. Willard Trask. 19h8; rpt. New York: 1965.

DeBruyne, Edgar. The Esthetiqg._§ the Middle Ages, tr. Eileen B. Hennessy.
New York: 1969.

Dvorak, Max. Idealism and Naturali§g_ig.Gothic Art, tr. Randolph J.
Klawiter. 1928; Notre Dame: 1967.

Friedman, Lionel J. "'Jean de Meung,' Antifeminism, and 'Bourgeois
Realism.'" Modern Philology, 59 (1959), 13-23.

Frye, Northrup. Anatomy g; Criticism. 1957; rpt. New York: 1967-

Furnivall, Frederick J. Early English Mealg and Mannerg. E.E.T.S., o.s.
32, London: 1868.

Gradon, Pamela. Form and Style in Early English Literature. London:
1972.

Hall. D. J. English Medieval Pilgrimages. London: 1956.

Haselmayer, Louis A. "The Apparitor and Chaucer's Summoner." Speculum,
12 (1937). 43-57.

256

Hussey, S. 5. Chaucer: An Introduction. London: 1971.

Jusserand, J. J. "Chaucer's Pardoner and the Pope's Pardoners."
Chaucer Society_Publications, Series 2, No. 19, London: n.d.,

has-4.56s

. English Wayfaring Life in the Middle Ages, tr. Lucy
Toulmin Smith. nth ed., 1889; rpt. New'York: 1950.

 

Kellogg, Alfred L. and Haselmayer, Louis A. "Chaucer's Satire of the
Pardoner." PMLA, 66 (1951), 251-277.

Kittredge, George Lyman. Chaucer and His Poetry. Cambridge: 1915.
___ . "Chaucer's Pardoner." Atlantic, 72 (1893), 829-833.
Lowes, John Livingstone. Geoffrey Chaucer. Oxford: 1932.

_. . "Simple and Coy." Aggllfl. 33 (1910). #40-451.

Male, Emile. The Gothic Image: Religious Art in France 2;,the
Thirteenth Centggy, tr. Dora Nussey. 1913; New York: 1958.

Manly, John Matthews, ed. Canterbury Taleg. New York: 1928.

. "A Knight ther was." Transactions g; the American
Philological Association, 38 (1907), 20h-221.

 

Mroczkowski, Przemyslaw. "Medieval Art and Aesthetics in the Canter-
bury Tales." Speculum, 33 (1958), 204-221.

Muscatine, Charles. Chaucer and the French Tradition: A_Stugy ;n_Style
and Meaning. Berkeley: 1960.

Nykrog, Per. Leg Fabliaux. Copenhagen: 1957.

Owst, G. R. Literature and Pulpit ig Medieval Englan . 2nd rev. ed.,
Oxford: 1951.

Panofsky, Erwin. Gothic Architecture and Scholasticism. New'York: 1958.

Power, Eileen. Medieval English Nunneries g, 1225 32,1555. Cambridge:
1922.

Rashdall, Hastings. The Universities 9; Egrgpe in the Middle Ages,
ed. F. M. Powicke and A. B. Emden. 3 vols. Oxford: 1936.

Reiss, Edmund, "The Symbolic Surface of the Canterbury Taleg: The
Monk's Portrait." Chaucer Review, 2 (1968), 254-272 and 3 (1969),
12-28. '

257
Renoir, Alain. "Tradition and Moral Realism: Chaucer's Conception of
the Poet." Studia Neophilologica, 35 (1963), 199-210.

Robertson, D. W. A_Preface tg_Chaucer: Studies in_Medievgl Perspectives.
Princeton: 1962.

Robertson, Stuart. "Elements of Realism in the 'Knight's Tale.'"
Journal 2; English and Germanic Philology, 14 (1915), 226-255.

Rogers, James Thorold. Six Centuries‘gi Work and Wages. London: 1894.

Schlauch, Margaret. "Realism and Convention in Medieval Literature."
Kwartalnik Neofilglogiczny, 11 (196R), 3-12.

Simeon, Otto Georg von. The Gothic Cathedral: Origin; g;_§;chitecture
and the Medieval Concept'gg Order. New York: 1956.

Sfirbom, G6ren. Mjmesis and Art. Uppsala: 1966.

Stern, J. P. "Reflections on Realism." Lima; 9; M We

West, Michael. "Dramatic Time, Setting, and Motivation in Chaucer."
Chaucer Re cw, 2 (1968), 172-187.

Williams, Arnold. "Chaucer and the Friars." §pggglgg, 28 (1953),
h99Ҥ13e

. "The 'Limitour' of Chaucer's Time and his 'Limitacioun.'"
Studies ig_Philglggy, 57 (1960), h63-h78.

 

. "Some Documents on English Pardoness, 1350-1400."

Mediaegal Studies in Hgngr _q_f_ Urbag 3.11.5292 Ho es, in. Chapel
Hill: 1966.

 

. "Two Notes on Chaucer's Friars." Mgdezg Philglggy, 54
(1956-1957), 117-120.

 

Woollcombe, W. W. "The Sources of the Wife of Bath's Prologue." Chancer
Society Publications, Series 2, No. 16, London: 1903, 293-306.