Let Me Make This Perfectly Clear

What I'm saying about reading the Canterbury Tales, about recognizing the identity of the characters, is not contrary to what you already know or believe from standard interpretations. I have no argument with previous interpretations. Chaucer's poetry can be read from many points of view.
     What I am saying is that the work has an additional level of meaning. The Host is the innkeeper AND the Host is Christ. Chaucer's message is not one OR the other --it is both. That's what is so fascinating about allegory. The pictures in our mind's eye are not "one-dimensional," but can have two or even three layers of meaning.
     We need to adopt/develop the medieval mindset to accept these multiple realities. The planets, for example, were seen as objects in the sky and as the ancient gods simultaneously. A visible conjunction of Venus and Mars, then, was recognized as a clandestine tryst between the two deities. Another way to achieve ambiguity--more than one meaning--Chaucer tells us specifically, is by using words with "two faces." Let's look at a few zodiac portrayals to get a feel for this fourteenth-century double talk.

The Pilgrim Cook is Cancer, the crab. The Cook prepares dishes that incorporate sea food--and he is the seafood ingredient, as well. A star cluster in this constellation is called The Manger. Chaucer makes us aware of that feature by telling of the Cook's expertise at making a medieval favorite: Blankmanger (white manger). A typical recipe for the dish calls for perch or lobster, boiled with almonds, rice and sugar--a sort of fish pudding. That's what we understand in regards to the Pilgrim Cook. On another level, the blankmanger "made" by the Cook refers to the star cluster in the constellation. He makes The Manger because it is part of him! An alternate name for the cluster is The Beehive. Then it is no surprise when the main character in the story that the Cook tells is a bee! The tale is a little joke about a mischievous drone who ultimately is banished from the hive. (I've included a complete explanation of the tale following the text of Chaucer's Pilgrims: the Allegory.)

The Pilgrim Monk is Leo, the lion. Oddly for a monk--but not for a lion--he enjoys hunting. Chaucer uses an airborne image of the Monk's greyhounds saying they move as swiftly as "bird in flight." They pursue no large quarry but only their traditional objective--the hare. We also learn that the Monk's favorite meal is roast swan. Celestial counterparts exist for the dogs and their prey in Canis Major and Minor, Lepus and Cygnus.

Then there is the Pilgrim Shipman, Capricorn, the Seagoat. When we suspect the Shipman is tapping wine from the ship's cargo, the theft is expresses as "to draw draughts of wine." The phrase, however, can also mean to haul quantities (measures) of wine. Chaucer, who had been in charge of Customs in London, had seen many a goatskin filled with wine. Goat leather, not fragile and easily transportable, carried wine commercially from ancient times down to the eighteenth century. We see the Shipman, then as both thief and--in his goat persona--as the means of carrying the wine.

Are you catching on? Here is an example that amazed me with its clarity when I recognized how allegorical levels work. If the travelers each correspond to a celestial entity, what/who is the Host? Here are the clues Chaucer provides. The Host is the guide for the zodiac travelers, that is, he indicates the path these signs will follow. In astronomy, this is called the ecliptic: "the apparent path of the sun." And, in considering the Host as identified with Christ, He is often poetically referred to as the Sun (or Son) of Righteousness. So, the main and guiding character in the Canterbury Tales can be seen as an innkeeper, as Christ, and as the Sun. That's just a hint of Chaucer's genius.

Written in the Stars--Part 2

This is the second segment of the explication of the allegory presenting the signs of the zodiac disguised as Chaucer's Canterbury Pilgrims.


Cancer/ the Cook  Only one thing in the figure is noteworthy--a cluster of stars called the Manger. The Cook's appearance is not described. Chaucer tells only of his talent in "making" tasty dishes--until the last two lines. Attention, then, is drawn to the running sore on his shin--a sure indication of cancer. That unpleasant fact is immediately followed by telling of his reputation as an expert at making blankmanger. The white (blanc) manger "made" by the Cook refers to the star cluster of the sign of the Crab.

Leo/ the Monk  Three stars represent three oddities in the Monk. The first magnitude star, Regulus, is called "the Lion's Heart." Chaucer presents the brilliant Regulus as a golden ornament under the Monk's chin. A second prominent star, Denebola (Arabic, "the Lion's Tail"), is said to be the "love-knot in the greater end." A third star, Algieba (above Regulus) is named "Brow of the Lion." Chaucer indicated Algieba by describing the Monk's glowing eyes. The lion image is expressed with details of being a hunter after game and words like pricking, and being of good point.

Virgo/ the Wife  Virgo has many ancient associations with the thousand-name goddess--who spilled grain to form the Milky Way. There is only one outstanding feature in the figure--Spica, a blue star of the first magnitude. That name refers to an ear of corn, so Virgo is sometimes called "the corn maiden." Only one line about the Wife is needed to confirm her as Virgo--And on her feet a pair of spurs sharp. Chaucer, here, points to Spica. The Latin word, spica, means a spike, and it also means an ear of corn: spike for the star, ear of corn for the myth. As the Mother of the gods in the ancient Roman world, her statue received a ritual cleansing annually. And as the goddess Hera, a cleansing bath renewed her virginity each year. Of great significance, then, is the name the poet gave her--The Wife of Bath. The bath is essential to her identity.

Part 3 of this explanation we'll cover Libra, Scorpio and Sagittarius.

Written in the Stars--Part I

In the allegory of the Canterbury Tales, the introductions of zodiac constellations disguised as Chaucer's Pilgrims have identifiers all in clear view--if you look for them. They involve mythology and animal characteristics (where they apply) as well as stars that make up the figure. And one rule of allegory is--once you've recognized the guiding pattern, all the parts must be there. Once you know one of the signs, the challenge is to find all twelve.

Aries/ the Friar Hamal and Sheratan are a distinctive pair of stars in the head of Aries, who is the first of the zodiac ring. The sign appears in the chill of March, so Chaucer indicates these stars my saying the Friar's eyes twinkled in his head as do stars in the frosty night. Being the first is noted with the allusion to the Friar's pleasant "In principio." The wooly ram image is found in the Friar's short cloak of double worsted.

Taurus/ the Miller As a constellation, Taurus has been recognized since ancient times. The dominant star, Aldebaran, has the distinction of being yellow and the brightest star in the zodiac. The Miller's thumb of gold corresponds to brilliant Aldebaran. The animal image plays a large part. We see the Miller as stout, big of brawn and bones, short-shouldered, with a broad, thick, gnarled body. His nostrils are wide and black and he could heave a door off its hinges by running into it with his head.

Gemini/ the two brothers--the Parson and Plowman  The poet gives no physical description of these brothers. Single stars--Castor and Pollux--indicate the head of each. Alhena, the bright yellow star in Pollux, was also seen as "red." Chaucer captures the idea with --If gold rusts, what shall iron do? As Gemini rises, Castor (the Plowman) is seen first; Pollux (the Parson) comes into view later. The poet notes this when the Parson (Pollux) says--I am a Southern man. His is the "Southern man" because he is south of his brother.

Part 2 will tell about Cancer, Leo and Virgo.

Who's who?

Let's zero in on the Canterbury pilgrims mentioned last time. The essential clue to the whole plan is--they all arrive at sunset to stay for the night. One of the boys in my friend Judy's high school class said, "They're stars, of course." That opened up the whole scheme.
     Then who/what is the Miller--the brawny fellow with wide black nostrils who crashes his head into things? Do you see a bull? Right. And if we're dealing with stars, who is that bull? Taurus, right.
     The next question is about the two brothers. That's pretty obvious--Gemini. The identity of two other pilgrims who receive cordial treatment might trip you up, but rely on Chaucer's clues. A "star" associated with love--her motto is "Love conquers all"--would be Venus. Now we know we are dealing with the planets Chaucer knew as well as the zodiac. So what's your guess about a man dedicated to war? Mars? Right. These are simple introductions to the disguised pilgrims. More details come later.
     I want you to know that all the facts I present are not on the surface of Chaucer's poetry. I had to dig through a lot of information he could have known--information available in the 14th century--to understand what he says. It's been a fascinating search. For example, one fact I learned is that planets could be called pilgrims. What a happy surprise! A pilgrim was a wanderer--planets wander among the fixed stars, that is, among the constellations. The word planet could also be used in a general way to mean "heavenly bodies." So the night sky is truly a display of many pilgrims on a journey.
     Here's one more fact. Chaucer had expert knowledge about "stars." He gives a defining statement about each zodiac figure to clinch its identity. Taurus/the Miller's clue is presented as his "thumb of gold," a reference to Aldebaran, a yellow star and the brightest in all the zodiac. Next time we'll talk about the other defining indicators of the hidden identities.

Groundwork for the payoff

Here's the groundwork I promised so you may see what I see. It's sort of an introduction to the game that tells about Chaucer's clues, the bits of information he has hidden in his individual descriptions. These clues inform us about the identity of the characters that travel disguised as pilgrims.
     The first thing Chaucer does is emphasize that the whole group arrives at sunset to stay for the night. Ask yourself what "group" arrives when the sun sets. Chaucer saw them--and so have you.
     Here are Chaucer's hints that tell us about the pilgrim most often--and most easily--recognized. It's the Miller. Refined, he is not.

The Miller is called a stout churl, big of brawn and bones.
He's short-shouldered, with a broad, thick, gnarled body.
His nostrils are wide and  black and
he could heave a door off its hinges by running into it with his head.

What picture does that put in your mind's eye? If it surprises you, that's OK. Let it.. If you're on the right track, you might even know the name of this traveler you can see at night.
     Let's assume you recognized "him." (If not yet, maybe a second pass will catch the trick.) Now, what is your guess as to who the two brothers are that journey together? And there are two other pilgrims who stay the night and are treated very cordially. One is a man dedicated to war. The other is a woman whose motto is "Love conquers all." Are you beginning to understand what "group" the poet has concealed in his pilgrims?
     The "puzzle" pieces are not all that obvious, but what you've seen is a good start. Chaucer's plan is a thrill to me every time I think about it. Next time I'll identify the pilgrims mentioned here and talk about a few more.

Pilgrims in disguise

You could content yourself with the surface story of the Canterbury Tales and let the idea of a hidden meaning just slide. Chaucer's surface story has been enjoyed for centuries--and will continue to be, but I couldn't do that. The poetry nagged me: "Why did he say that?" For example, only one of the pilgrims is said to wear spurs. No, not the Knight. It's one of the women. Why would Chaucer say that? I figured he must have had a reason.

While we're on the subject of pilgrims, in one of his earlier poems (Troilus and Criseyde), Chaucer says the hero "Like a pilgrim he disguised himself" so that he could make his way undetected into enemy territory to visit his ladylove. I didn't know about that disguise until after the episode I'm about to describe, but it shows that our poet already had that trick in mind.

The whole scheme of the Canterbury pilgrims distracted me. Chaucer's reputation was too well known, his skills too well recognized by his contemporaries for me to think that the group was a haphazard collection. So what was it that made this precise combination necessary? Why was there one pair of brothers, not from a religious order, but two men related by birth? Why not three brothers or no brothers? Why was there a wife--but no husband and wife? Why no children? Why so few women?
     When I raised the question of the make-up of this assortment of travelers, I was told, "That's just the way it was in the Middle Ages." End of discussion. But that never satisfied me. And it didn't stop the tape loop that had begun playing in my head. No matter what I was doing, in some little compartment of my brain, a never-ending succession of the images of the pilgrims was always on screen. I knew there had to be an answer to the selection of exactly this group. My need for the answer was obsessive, unrelenting. That ever-present pilgrim tape streamed past my mind's eye for more than a week--and then it happened.
     Picture this. What's going on in your mind is projected on a TV screen, and at the bottom of the screen there is a narrow tape running--rather like news headlines are displayed. That tape at the bottom ran on and on with the pictures of the pilgrims. And then--without any warning--my memory dredged up a second tape of images that began running just above the pilgrim tape, and in a few moments they meshed. They matched. The pilgrims were identified. The tapes stopped running, and I sat there overwhelmed, contemplating the matched identities. It was like checking your lottery ticket against the winning numbers printed in the newspaper-- and realizing you've won the jackpot. Eureka! I suddenly knew that Chaucer presents one group of characters described in terms of another group. The pilgrims are all disguised!