Chaucer (and Other Middle English Literature)

[canismajoris]

It seems likely to me that among English-speaking students, the prospect of reading Chaucer's work is often rather daunting, or even tedious. With form and language several hundred years out of date, it certainly does not have accessibility as its claim to fame. But literature of the Middle English period nevertheless offers a richness of subject matter and tradition that often goes unrecognized.

Goeffrey Chaucer (c. 1340 - 25 October 1400) is often hailed as the father of English literature, and with good reason. Although an English literary-poetic tradition predates him by centuries, his works are among the first and finest to synthesize existing literary forms with the vernacular Middle English language. He wrote short poems and sweeping romances, he translated philosophical works and adapted French and Italian masterpieces, and he even authored--of all things--an essay on the use of the astrolabe. Yet Chaucer's legacy appears to most of us in the form of the first 18 lines of the General Prologue to The Canterbury Tales, reproduced below:

Whan that Aprill, with his shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halfe cours yronne,
And smale foweles maken melodye,
That slepen al the nyght with open eye-
(So priketh hem Nature in hir corages);
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages
And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes
To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;
And specially from every shires ende
Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,
The hooly blisful martir for to seke
That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seeke.

Whether you've had to recite them or not, I suspect these are the most widely familiar of all of Chaucer's lines. My hope is that this thread will spark some interest in Chaucer's whole body of work, and also in the works of his (often anonymous) contemporaries.

Reading these works in the original language is in my opinion the best way to go, but there are many wonderful translations and modernizations available commercially, so don't feel that knowledge of Middle English language should be a requirement for participating! Nevertheless, I have found some web resources that may help alleviate any difficulties with Chaucer's language if you want to dive in:

Pronunciation Guide: http://webpages.marshall.edu/~will2/chaucer.html
Grammatical Handbook: http://www.courses.fas.harvard.edu/~...iation/gr.html

Additionally, here is an online anthology of Middle English literature, including a great deal of Chaucer (available for individual use): http://www.lib.rochester.edu/camelot/teams/tmsmenu.htm

As there is a great deal to discuss regarding literature of this era, any comments, questions, or criticisms are welcome. But I should also remind everyone that there is an existing thread dealing with Old and Middle English language, and so any general discussions of the language, or those that do not pertain directly to a literary work should be moved over there.



Now, for those of you familiar with Chaucer or other writers of this era, what have you read, and what do you like? What do you find difficult (or boring)?

For those of you unfamiliar... get reading!

[xhanax315]

I really enjoyed reading the Canterbury Tales my senior year of high school. Unfortunately it's the only of his works that I've read. Thinking about it now, I wish I had a copy of it.

[canismajoris]

A few weeks ago I finished "Parliament of Fowles," and now I'm delving into The Canterbury Tales a bit. "The Knight's Tale" isn't my favorite one, but it is certainly rather important, if for no other reasons than how long it is, its structure, and what it's about. Consequently I'm doing some research about knighthood and combat, and it's fascinating stuff.

[Melaszka]

I did a lot of Middle English lit for my English degree, many, many years ago.

I enjoyed many of the Canterbury Tales, but I also really enjoyed the humour in The Book of the Duchess - the way Chaucer portrays himself/the narrator as being a bit thick.

Amongst other Middle English lit, I loved Gawain and the Green Knight, and it was also very popular with others on the course, but I was probably the only person on my course to actually admit to liking Pearl. I think the language is beautiful and the formal structure (with the use of repeated words to interlink the stanzas, like a pearl necklace) is so clever. But, then, for me form is more exciting than content.

[canismajoris]

Oh! Pearl is just stunningly beautiful, and a really fascinating example of the dream vision genre too, because it's also rather allegorical and elegiac. You mentioned the concatenation and so forth, but the other interesting thing for me is that there's so much alliteration. It sort of brings the Old English elegy to mind when I read it, even if the structure is far too novel. Yeah, definitely one of my favorite Middle English works, even if a bit of the theology is over my head.

[canismajoris]

I've just been reading The Knight's Tale and something interesting occurred to me. My professor had mentioned that the knight in the Tales might be reacting to changes in the nature of knighthood as he goes about his business in pilgrimage and telling his tale. I think the text of his story and the portraits prove that is the case.

SPOILER ALERT

First, it should be noted that the knight is one of the "idealized" portraits. He "loved chivalrye, trouthe and honor, fredom and curteisye," and is "a verray, parfit, gentil knight," Or: he loved chivalry, fidelity and honor, generosity and courtesy, and he was a true, perfect, noble knight. The portrait goes on to describe his exploits, how he had been on crusade and in several other campaigns. But then there is a "but," when Chaucer explains that his clothing and armor are simple, poor, and dirty.

His son is the Squire, "a lovyere, and a lusty bacheler, with lokkes crulle," who "coude songes make and well endyte, juste and eek daunce, and well purtreye and wryte." He was a lover and a lusty young man, with curly hair, who knew how write and sing songs well; he jousts and dances, and he can draw and write. He is new to the arts of chivalry--riding, fighting, etc., and he wears clothing "embrouded... as it were a mede al ful of fresshe floures, whyte and rede." Embroidered as though a meadow, full of fresh flowers of white and red.

These two portraits clearly show a generational gap between the prudent, practical father and his somewhat ditzy son, but they are still united nominally by the traditions of knighthood and chivalry. But the tale the knight goes on to tell suggests that he is concerned about this--whether anxious or resigned I can't tell--but he may also be trying to talk himself down a bit.

First, to very briefly summarize, the action of the tale, a pretty robust romance, focuses on the brother (cousin) knights Palamon and Arcite. They both love the fair Emily, and events fall in line such that they end up fighting a tournament for the right to her hand. It is worth mentioning, however, that Palamon was the first to see and to love Emily, and Arcite moments later falls into the same condition. Their initial conversation on the matter has Palamon reminding Arcite that they were sworn brothers who took an oath never to interfere with each other's affairs in love. Arcite says, basically, all's fair in love--love is the highest duty and it supersedes all other oaths.

Now, the tournament they fight takes place on a lavish ad-hoc list built by the duke Theseus. At the west gate is a temple of Mars, from which Arcite emerges, at the east a temple of Venus, which is Palamon's entrance. (In the tradition of the chivalric trial, the defendant would be the one entering from the west, according to Russell, "Trial by Battle in the Court of Chivalry"). Meanwhile we are also told that a temple to Diana sits in the north, where Emily goes to ask to be freed from an obligation to marry either of the knights. Unfortunately, Diana responds, that is just not going to happen.

Where it gets interesting is that Saturn intervenes, and promises that though Mars would facilitate a victory at arms for Arcite, it would be the servant of Venus who gets what he desires. It's a bit ambiguous at this point what the knight really feels about the events. His love-struck Palamon who is all honor and fairness is represented by Venus, and the somewhat more duplicitous Arcite is represented by Mars. In a world where a knight's livelihood depends on his abilities in combat, it surprises me that the outcome so heavily favors Palamon, the servant of Venus; but then again, Palamon is also the more principled of the two knights, and he is the one who recognizes that both of them can obviously not love Emily.

On the other hand, Arcite, who has a broken oath and a false identity to his credit, is the one fighting under the banner of Mars, and one might interpret that his love for Emily is far less sincere given the circumstances. Naturally Arcite wins the melee, but eventually dies from an accident. After Theseus declares them both winners, Palamon lives happily ever after with Emily.

If the knight telling the tale is making a social commentary here, the message somewhat eludes me. On the one hand, if he is comparing himself to his son, the identity is muddled: The wise, prudent, honorable knight, who serves Venus, wins out over the hollow, affected, dishonorable one with Martial alignment. If he is indeed as true and honorable as his portrait makes him out to be, but also as capable with arms, surely he should stand as the ideal warrior in the tale--the representative of Mars? His son on the other hand knows how to joust, and clearly has training, but his devotion to the art of courtly love is plainly evident, so why isn't the lesser knight for Venus?

I suppose the answer might be that the knight tells this story as a way of asserting that the old ways are still the best ways. Those who wear fancy clothing and play the harp are called lovers, but they are only adopting the image of a lover, and they may joust and fight, but only with the superficial trappings of a warrior. The true knight will be both a lover and a fighter, but will need no garlands or poems to prove his worth to his lord or to his lady. Most of all, he keeps his word, and does what is expected of him--the proof of his worth is in his actions, not in his words or his clothing. If the knight is referring to his son, it's obvious that he is concerned. But if the fates of Palamon and Arcite may be applied, perhaps the knight knows that even if his way of life suffers an eventual defeat to the new cult of chivalry, the real victory will still be his in the end.

[canismajoris]

Not that I wish to contradict myself so spectacularly, but I think I may have missed some important details in my last reading. Having just read the entire tale again, I think the underlying purpose of it is not to be found in examining the two knights.

The medievalist Helen Cooper published an edition of The Canterbury Tales with an interesting observation: If one identifies certain key moments in the narrative of The Knight's Tale, a certain symmetry emerges. Now, I'm not going to comment extensively on this, but only that there is a distinct transition from chaotic, violent, and fairly miserable circumstances to their counterparts, which reflect legalism, stability, and fairness. What really ties the two halves of the tale together is that the Duke Theseus seems to benefit materially from all of the opposing sets of events.

Far from a tale strictly concerned with the problem of Fortune as opposed to Providence, I think it is a story examining the nature of rule, which expounds upon both its tyrannical forms and its potential to realize a Platonic philosopher-king. My conclusion is that the titular knight (the one telling the tale) is asserting that while knights may earn reputations as either heroes or monsters, the social order upon which kings depend is structured in such a way that they can act with impunity while knights do the dirty work.

After all, Theseus sacks the city of Thebes on a whim, but later consolidates a peaceful vassalage by a political marriage to save himself further trouble. He interrupts a personal duel and institutes a legal tournament, knowing that the winner will be his grateful ally and the loser disgraced or dead. He takes a bride by conquest but delivers an eloquent speech enumerating the nature of love in binding the universe together.

The knights Palamon and Arcite, whatever their respective strengths and flaws, are merely pawns working to further the increased wealth and power of a king without even realizing it. If we look at the knight's portrait, how he fought in crusades, how he sold his sword to heathen kings, I think we must take from his tale a rather cynical point of view. Whether he sees himself as an honorable man or as a mercenary, I think it's clear that he resents that his chosen way of life--and indeed all the things that really matter to him--benefits first (and often only) some high lord sitting leagues away while he spills the blood of his colleagues. He understands the ideals of chivalry and he keeps them when he can, but he knows that to a king such things are only as important as their potential to secure his own power.