As I said in the previous entry, "I had something I had to say." The fact that Professor Trigg assumed I "sidestepped" a lot of Chaucer criticism published in the preceding forty years did not mean I was careless or sparing in my searches. It only meant that the books I read almost never connected to more recent scholarship.
V. A. Kolve is an exception. His The Play Called Corpus Christi provides exciting information. He demonstrates, for example, that action in medieval plays mimics the action of games! Kolve intends to assist today's readers to recognize images that were a "major vocabulary" in the medieval mind-set. This enhances the "possibility of divergent readings" of the Canterbury Tales.
I pursued other books he'd written. His Chaucer and the Imagery of Narrative has been called "the best and most important book on Chaucer to appear in twenty-five years."
The name of Augustine seemed to touch everything medieval, all aspects of my research. I needed to know more about him. I could hardly believe he had died in 430 A.D. That's 1000 years before the death of Chaucer. His influence not only continued uninterrupted through the Middle Ages, but it is still forceful today. What a powerful figure!
To return to Professor Stephanie Trigg, she sees my reading as dependent on the Middle English Dictionary when I looked for "possible alternative meanings for Chaucer's lines." In truth, the dictionary proved to be a treasure trove. I'll demonstrate with the "outstanding" word I mentioned last time. You'll need a little background first.
The word is found in the story of Thopas, which is a litany of sexual encounters told in two parts. At the end of part one, Pilgrim Chaucer leaves the decision to continue in the hands of his audience as he offers: If you will [have] any more of it, To tell it will I fonde. In the MED, fonde has ten definitions. Editors choose number seven, which says, "to try or strive to do something." That fits the surface story.
To understand the startling alternate meaning of the line, however, it is essential to recognize that Chaucer's Host is the covert image of Christ, guide of pilgrims. (The Christic identity is established in great detail in my first book, which deals exclusively with the Host. I coverered that topic first because Christ is the heart of Chaucer's hidden message.)
Now let's check the first definition of fonde: "to try the patience of God." Astonishing! But knowing that Christ is listening to this bawdy story, the definition comes as no surprise. After only twenty-two lines--in the middle of a sentence--the Host/Christ calls a halt as he says: "No more of this, for you make me so weary . . . My ears ache." That shows unmistakably that Christ's patience is at an end. Fonde foreshadowed the interruption.
Near the closing of her review, Professor Trigg says "most presses would have insisted on major rewriting to update Cullen's research." She goes on to confide, that, as they exist, few teachers would recommend my Chaucer books to their students. Then, in spite of all her prior objections, the professor muses, "And yet I suspect many such teachers would be secretly quite glad if they could inspire their own students to write a series of three volumes on Chaucer." Professor Trigg is a woman who is not merely echoing Ivory Tower pronouncements. Her seeing an unspoken value in the unconventional can't help but warm this aged heart. :)
My presentation may not abide by the academic formula, but students will know that research can be an adventure.
Showing posts with label Christ. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christ. Show all posts
Friday, July 10, 2015
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
The brilliant Thopas/Melibee centerpiece
We need to get into the right frame of mind, clear the air of modern prejudices to see what Chaucer actually incorporated in his "centerpiece." I'm talking about Pilgrim Chaucer's offering as one of the storytellers. Those familiar with the Tales know I mean the Thopas/Melibee duo. Those familiar are also probably thinking, "Why spend time on these? Our class skipped both. Our instructor said he was doing us a favor, because one is silly, and the other is boring."
That's what I'm referring to. We have to clear the air of these long-held judgments.
For instance, you may have been told that the idea of allegory was "almost universally regarded with suspicion, if not contempt" (A Preface to Chaucer). Our observations refute this. What we've looked at so far--
the Host as surface innkeeper with Christ, as his counterpart
the zodiac figures and planets disguised as pilgrims
should prove that allegories can be trusted and enjoyed. And we see that Chaucer meant to convey a double meaning.
Or you may have been told that Chaucer freed himself from allegory, that "Chaucer is very modern" (Chaucer and His Poetry, Kittredge). Rather than insisting that Chaucer is "modern," I find him the epitome of medievalism. His use of medieval techniques surpasses any other author of his time. The Thopas/Melibee sequence will prove it.
Perpetuating the Victorian insistence on defining "pricking" as "galloping" or "spurring" has kept us on the wrong track. The Thopas saga has been called "dull as a laundry list," yet the double entendre of his actions was not even considered! (See blog entries 7-15-11, 8-6-11)
Over the years, other scenarios have been suggested. Historically the tale was said to make fun of the Flemish. Or, with current thinking, Thopas is presented as homosexual. However, if you accept the "pricking" of the hero as sexual activity, the account is about as naughty as you can get. It rivals the Miller's Tale!
It's only fair to give Melibee at least a mention. It is ponderous compared to Thopas, but you'll see the reason for that when you understand the overall plan. Pilgrim Chaucer's dual narrative has a solid medieval frame: the batell betwyx body and soull.
Let's set the scene. V. A. Kolve (Chaucer and the Imagery of Narrative) has pointed out that Pilgrim Chaucer's narrative comes when the Canterbury pilgrimage is midway to its destination. That's what makes his contribution the "centerpiece." The Host--Christ--calls upon the poet to tell of experiences from the past (aventures that whilon han bifalle).
Because it is Christ who calls on Pilgrim Chaucer, we will see a previously unrecognized undercurrent in the Prologue to Thopas and in Chaucer's reaction to being called upon.
Then we'll sample enough of Thopas to acquaint you with the naughty escapades and their consequences.
Christ eventually stops the story in mid-sentence; that's important. Surprisingly, this Pilgrim is given a second chance--he is encouraged to tell a second story. That situation is unique in the Tales. Our conclusion will prove how brilliantly medieval Chaucer's offering truly is.
Now, get ready for the self-willed Thopas as he was meant to be.
That's what I'm referring to. We have to clear the air of these long-held judgments.
For instance, you may have been told that the idea of allegory was "almost universally regarded with suspicion, if not contempt" (A Preface to Chaucer). Our observations refute this. What we've looked at so far--
the Host as surface innkeeper with Christ, as his counterpart
the zodiac figures and planets disguised as pilgrims
should prove that allegories can be trusted and enjoyed. And we see that Chaucer meant to convey a double meaning.
Or you may have been told that Chaucer freed himself from allegory, that "Chaucer is very modern" (Chaucer and His Poetry, Kittredge). Rather than insisting that Chaucer is "modern," I find him the epitome of medievalism. His use of medieval techniques surpasses any other author of his time. The Thopas/Melibee sequence will prove it.
Perpetuating the Victorian insistence on defining "pricking" as "galloping" or "spurring" has kept us on the wrong track. The Thopas saga has been called "dull as a laundry list," yet the double entendre of his actions was not even considered! (See blog entries 7-15-11, 8-6-11)
Over the years, other scenarios have been suggested. Historically the tale was said to make fun of the Flemish. Or, with current thinking, Thopas is presented as homosexual. However, if you accept the "pricking" of the hero as sexual activity, the account is about as naughty as you can get. It rivals the Miller's Tale!
It's only fair to give Melibee at least a mention. It is ponderous compared to Thopas, but you'll see the reason for that when you understand the overall plan. Pilgrim Chaucer's dual narrative has a solid medieval frame: the batell betwyx body and soull.
Let's set the scene. V. A. Kolve (Chaucer and the Imagery of Narrative) has pointed out that Pilgrim Chaucer's narrative comes when the Canterbury pilgrimage is midway to its destination. That's what makes his contribution the "centerpiece." The Host--Christ--calls upon the poet to tell of experiences from the past (aventures that whilon han bifalle).
Because it is Christ who calls on Pilgrim Chaucer, we will see a previously unrecognized undercurrent in the Prologue to Thopas and in Chaucer's reaction to being called upon.
Then we'll sample enough of Thopas to acquaint you with the naughty escapades and their consequences.
Christ eventually stops the story in mid-sentence; that's important. Surprisingly, this Pilgrim is given a second chance--he is encouraged to tell a second story. That situation is unique in the Tales. Our conclusion will prove how brilliantly medieval Chaucer's offering truly is.
Now, get ready for the self-willed Thopas as he was meant to be.
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
Our journey so far
The blog name--Chaucer ain't like gospel--means that whatever has been said about Chaucer in the last 200 years is subject to question. We're dealing with human opinions, not with religious inspiration. Let's shake the dust from Chaucer studies.
Why should you value my opinions? Well, partly because I've enjoyed promoting Chaucer and researching and writing about him for 30 years. I've had sudden insights that were so amazing, I thought I'd burst! And what I say about the Canterbury Tales does not conflict with the usual interpretations. Chaucer's poetry can be read from many points of view. What I am saying, though, is that the Canterbury Tales has an additional level of meaning.
It began for me when Chaucer associated the word Host with the best food and wine; my Catholic background brought echoes of poetic references to the Eucharist. What I saw was the figure of Christ. It surprised me to find that this identity was not considered "self-evident"! (We've covered the Christ-identifiers in blog entries already.) To see the guide of pilgrims as Christ Himself would be in complete harmony with the medieval mind-set. The Host is the innkeeper AND the Host is Christ. Chaucer's message is not one OR the other--it's both. That's what is so fascinating about allegory.
Then, as I read the descriptions of the pilgrims, questions nagged me for days--a cook with a running sore? a man with wide, black nostrils? The Canterbury pilgrims passed in an unending review before my mind's eye until one evening, it happened. Without warning, a second set of images began running along with the pilgrims; in a few moments they matched. I sat there overwhelmed, contemplating the double identities. Chaucer presents one group described in terms of another group. That magical moment set me on a new path for the rest of my life! I wanted everyone to know.
Consider Chaucer's account of the arrival at the Tabard, the hostelry where his pilgrims will spend the night. Twenty-nine travelers of different backgrounds all arrive at their destination just as the sun sets. We're told nothing of horses, belongings, physical necessities, selection of sleeping arrangements. Nothing complicates the smooth entry onto the scene of that cook with the running sore, the man with wide, black nostrils who, by the way, could knock a door off its hinges by running into it with his head, a pair of brothers and many others.
The essential clue is--they all arrive at sunset to stay for the night. When I asked a high school class what images they saw, one of the boys said, "They're stars, of course." Then the whole class began to shout out the pilgrim identities. What a great time we had!
Yes, they are stars--zodiac figures, and planets--all disguised as pilgrims. You can see why, when I suddenly understood, I wanted everyone to know about Chaucer's marvelous plan.
Christ as the guide of pilgrims and celestial figures masquerading as those pilgrims--one or both ideas--will be involved in every entry that follows. Next time we'll deal with one of Chaucer's tantalizing astrological "mistakes."
Why should you value my opinions? Well, partly because I've enjoyed promoting Chaucer and researching and writing about him for 30 years. I've had sudden insights that were so amazing, I thought I'd burst! And what I say about the Canterbury Tales does not conflict with the usual interpretations. Chaucer's poetry can be read from many points of view. What I am saying, though, is that the Canterbury Tales has an additional level of meaning.
It began for me when Chaucer associated the word Host with the best food and wine; my Catholic background brought echoes of poetic references to the Eucharist. What I saw was the figure of Christ. It surprised me to find that this identity was not considered "self-evident"! (We've covered the Christ-identifiers in blog entries already.) To see the guide of pilgrims as Christ Himself would be in complete harmony with the medieval mind-set. The Host is the innkeeper AND the Host is Christ. Chaucer's message is not one OR the other--it's both. That's what is so fascinating about allegory.
Then, as I read the descriptions of the pilgrims, questions nagged me for days--a cook with a running sore? a man with wide, black nostrils? The Canterbury pilgrims passed in an unending review before my mind's eye until one evening, it happened. Without warning, a second set of images began running along with the pilgrims; in a few moments they matched. I sat there overwhelmed, contemplating the double identities. Chaucer presents one group described in terms of another group. That magical moment set me on a new path for the rest of my life! I wanted everyone to know.
Consider Chaucer's account of the arrival at the Tabard, the hostelry where his pilgrims will spend the night. Twenty-nine travelers of different backgrounds all arrive at their destination just as the sun sets. We're told nothing of horses, belongings, physical necessities, selection of sleeping arrangements. Nothing complicates the smooth entry onto the scene of that cook with the running sore, the man with wide, black nostrils who, by the way, could knock a door off its hinges by running into it with his head, a pair of brothers and many others.
The essential clue is--they all arrive at sunset to stay for the night. When I asked a high school class what images they saw, one of the boys said, "They're stars, of course." Then the whole class began to shout out the pilgrim identities. What a great time we had!
Yes, they are stars--zodiac figures, and planets--all disguised as pilgrims. You can see why, when I suddenly understood, I wanted everyone to know about Chaucer's marvelous plan.
Christ as the guide of pilgrims and celestial figures masquerading as those pilgrims--one or both ideas--will be involved in every entry that follows. Next time we'll deal with one of Chaucer's tantalizing astrological "mistakes."
Thursday, February 28, 2013
The loathsome Pardoner clue
The Host's confrontation by the loathsome, contemptible Pilgrim Pardoner is a short but lively scene, ordinarily viewed with emphasis on humor.
He is a minor churchman, and a fraud, who peddles absolution. His targets--the unsuspecting and the impoverished faithful. What we learn about him from the narrator repels us, but when the Pardoner speaks for himself, he becomes even more hateful. For example, he tells us he has a collection of "relics," which he declares are authentic. He promises they will cure diseases in animals and humans and relieve suspicions of jealous husbands. He tells false stories and ruins reputations with his venom while claiming to edify. Greed is his only motive; he cares nothing about counseling sinners. But, so powerful and persuasive are his words that even the poorest give him money, wool and cheese, though their children are starving.
As he finishes promoting his cause to his companions, he offers to absolve each of them of his or her sins. Then he says, "I advise that Our Host here shall begin / For he is most enveloped in sin." The Host is invited to come forward and kiss each of the Pardoner's relics! At this, the Host lashes out at the Pardoner's boastfully confessed hypocrisy.
As we go to our task of finding the image of Christ within this action, the Host's anger is fitting. Recall Christ lashing out at the money changers in the temple.
One word, however, is the key to the scene--enveloped. Chaucer's Pardoner uses the word to describe the Host as most enveloped in sin. The Pardoner is not addressing a sinful man, that is, a sin-filled man. Sin surrounds, enfolds the Host. This image has long been a tradition with Christ. In the Harrowing of Hell, mentioned in our previous entry, Christ says to Satan, "Sin found thou never / In me as in other men."
And as Chaucer's humble Parson tells us, "Jesus Christ took upon Himself the pain of all our wickednesses," but "in Him is no imperfection." Sin is closely associated with Christ, but it is external to His being. The poet, in providing additional evidence of Christ, indicates the same of Our Host.
The tradition continues today. Christ is often described as taking all our sins upon Himself. Sinfulness is external to Christ; it envelops Him. That statement is a parallel to Chaucer's portrait of Our Host. Here again, we find a comic surface that needs to be penetrated in order to discover the portrait of Christ within. It takes only careful reading with an open mind to see the image Chaucer has concealed.
Next time, we will look at our penultimate clue, a matter of genuine substance.
He is a minor churchman, and a fraud, who peddles absolution. His targets--the unsuspecting and the impoverished faithful. What we learn about him from the narrator repels us, but when the Pardoner speaks for himself, he becomes even more hateful. For example, he tells us he has a collection of "relics," which he declares are authentic. He promises they will cure diseases in animals and humans and relieve suspicions of jealous husbands. He tells false stories and ruins reputations with his venom while claiming to edify. Greed is his only motive; he cares nothing about counseling sinners. But, so powerful and persuasive are his words that even the poorest give him money, wool and cheese, though their children are starving.
As he finishes promoting his cause to his companions, he offers to absolve each of them of his or her sins. Then he says, "I advise that Our Host here shall begin / For he is most enveloped in sin." The Host is invited to come forward and kiss each of the Pardoner's relics! At this, the Host lashes out at the Pardoner's boastfully confessed hypocrisy.
As we go to our task of finding the image of Christ within this action, the Host's anger is fitting. Recall Christ lashing out at the money changers in the temple.
One word, however, is the key to the scene--enveloped. Chaucer's Pardoner uses the word to describe the Host as most enveloped in sin. The Pardoner is not addressing a sinful man, that is, a sin-filled man. Sin surrounds, enfolds the Host. This image has long been a tradition with Christ. In the Harrowing of Hell, mentioned in our previous entry, Christ says to Satan, "Sin found thou never / In me as in other men."
And as Chaucer's humble Parson tells us, "Jesus Christ took upon Himself the pain of all our wickednesses," but "in Him is no imperfection." Sin is closely associated with Christ, but it is external to His being. The poet, in providing additional evidence of Christ, indicates the same of Our Host.
The tradition continues today. Christ is often described as taking all our sins upon Himself. Sinfulness is external to Christ; it envelops Him. That statement is a parallel to Chaucer's portrait of Our Host. Here again, we find a comic surface that needs to be penetrated in order to discover the portrait of Christ within. It takes only careful reading with an open mind to see the image Chaucer has concealed.
Next time, we will look at our penultimate clue, a matter of genuine substance.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
The Canterbury adventure begins
The Host's position has been assured; agreements have been reached. We need to recognize, however, that individuals of high and low estate sharing accommodations and being willing to take orders from an innkeeper would never happen in the 1300s.
So, why present something that is an impossibility? One reason is a characteristic of old poetry called "signaling." This can occur when what we're told is preposterous or is a non-sequitur. It's a way for the poet to alert us: take notice!
In this instance of "signaling," the situation is preposterous. Then why is the poet claiming it took place? What does he want us to understand? The Host is portrayed as domineering. This trait, for the obvious storyline, contributes humor.
Allegory can have an entertaining comic surface which becomes difficult to set aside in order to see an inner, in this case, a spiritual meaning. Because the Host is generally accepted as a bully and a buffoon, it takes determination to see him as Christ at another level. His dominance in the underlying message fittingly illustrates Christ's omnipotence.
The poet's reason for creating this special challenge will be clear when we put the final touch on the portrait of this Host.
The night has passed, as we pick up the story. The pilgrims prepare to depart. But their departure is without details--no breakfast, no transport of possessions, no saddling of horses, no sounds or movements, no mention of weather, nor attitudes of the pilgrims. Particulars would have been simple enough to include, but are purposefully omitted.
Chaucer, in his minimal style, tells us only: In the morning, when the day began to spring / Up rose our Host, and was our cock. The Host stands in for a rooster which did the job before alarm clocks were invented.
Then the Host gathers the pilgrims "all in a flock." Did those words bring the image to your mind's eye of a shepherd with his "flock"? Non-verbalized images both inform and entertain. Taking note of what comes to our mind's eye gains a fuller experience of the poetry. We'll see this strategy again.
The group is on the road now, moving slowly. The slow pace is the one fact confided. We get to know the personalities of the pilgrims by their tales. The Host interacts with the pilgrims to link the tales one with the other. These brief interludes fascinate me. Chaucer's skill and ingenuity with multifaceted images goes far beyond the standard opinion regarding his creativity.
As the group travels, the links continue to give us clues to see the figure of Christ in this Host. We'll delve into these mini-dramas Chaucer creates.
First we'll take a wide-eyed look at the Host's offensive language. That's our topic for next week.
So, why present something that is an impossibility? One reason is a characteristic of old poetry called "signaling." This can occur when what we're told is preposterous or is a non-sequitur. It's a way for the poet to alert us: take notice!
In this instance of "signaling," the situation is preposterous. Then why is the poet claiming it took place? What does he want us to understand? The Host is portrayed as domineering. This trait, for the obvious storyline, contributes humor.
Allegory can have an entertaining comic surface which becomes difficult to set aside in order to see an inner, in this case, a spiritual meaning. Because the Host is generally accepted as a bully and a buffoon, it takes determination to see him as Christ at another level. His dominance in the underlying message fittingly illustrates Christ's omnipotence.
The poet's reason for creating this special challenge will be clear when we put the final touch on the portrait of this Host.
The night has passed, as we pick up the story. The pilgrims prepare to depart. But their departure is without details--no breakfast, no transport of possessions, no saddling of horses, no sounds or movements, no mention of weather, nor attitudes of the pilgrims. Particulars would have been simple enough to include, but are purposefully omitted.
Chaucer, in his minimal style, tells us only: In the morning, when the day began to spring / Up rose our Host, and was our cock. The Host stands in for a rooster which did the job before alarm clocks were invented.
Then the Host gathers the pilgrims "all in a flock." Did those words bring the image to your mind's eye of a shepherd with his "flock"? Non-verbalized images both inform and entertain. Taking note of what comes to our mind's eye gains a fuller experience of the poetry. We'll see this strategy again.
The group is on the road now, moving slowly. The slow pace is the one fact confided. We get to know the personalities of the pilgrims by their tales. The Host interacts with the pilgrims to link the tales one with the other. These brief interludes fascinate me. Chaucer's skill and ingenuity with multifaceted images goes far beyond the standard opinion regarding his creativity.
As the group travels, the links continue to give us clues to see the figure of Christ in this Host. We'll delve into these mini-dramas Chaucer creates.
First we'll take a wide-eyed look at the Host's offensive language. That's our topic for next week.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
The Host wears many hats
Chaucer's Host tells his guests that they will "stand at his judgment" and he will "tell them what to do." Does his plan please the pilgrims? Apparently it does. When he directs them--without more talk--to raise their hands as a sign of acceptance, they respond immediately and ask him to do even more. He tells them he will be their guide, and they ask him, in addition, to be their governor and reporter.
So, how do we accomplish the task we've set for ourselves in this blog? How do we recognize Christ in these roles? Perhaps we don't , but in the 14th century each specified role was based on a traditional image of Christ.
For example, Chaucer himself, in his translation of Boethius says, "God governs all things in the world . . . ; and all things will obey [are obliged to ] Him." And Cursor Mundi, which we've drawn from before, refers to Christ as "our Lord and God / And evermore our governor." John Lydgate, addressing the Eucharistic Christ, beseeches Him to "govern and guide us."
Chaucer, in several works, shares this point of view as he calls upon God as guide of mankind, and indicates that it is God who leads men. Here, in the General Prologue, the Host freely offers himself as guide for the pilgrimage.
And what about being a reporter? Christ, in the Chester Play of the Last Judgment, is addressed as "informer of all things," and the Grail Legend portrays a sinner asking Christ to have pity and mercy "my sins to report."
Who receives the report? That's clarified in Cynewolf's Last Judgment. Men will come before "God's Son" and "the Father . . . will learn / how . . . [men] have guarded their souls" while on earth. And, in Wyclif's Gospel of John, Jesus asks if men expect him to accuse them before God the Father. Today, we are probably more comfortable when the Bible calls Christ our "advocate" with the Father.
The Host will hand down verdicts, his guests swear oaths to abide by his directives. We are aware that the Host's proposal and pilgrims' agreement are overlaid with terms too serious, decisions to automatic. This could be interpreted as comedy on the surface. But, in an underlying interpretation, the scene portrays the resignation of profound inevitability--man's inescapable submission to God's plan. The weightiness of oaths and verdicts informs us that these are more that mere friendly interactions.
The activity described is universal; it is daily life--man bound to accept each day, though he knows not what lies ahead. The circumstance dramatizes God's prerogative. As Chaucer's Parson counsels: "Always a man shall put his will subject to the will of God."
With the Host's position assured and agreements reached, it is time for sleep. We will pick up the story next week as the pilgrims prepare to depart on their journey.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Food for pilgrims
The Host provides the best food for the pilgrims. Do you see a broad interpretation in that statement? We are all called "pilgrims" at times. And the Eucharist--the Host--strengthens us for our pilgrimage--our journey through life. Such a thought would be understood poetically by Catholics today. But what about Chaucer's contemporaries? Did they see the Eucharist as food for a journey?
The 14th century poem quoted in the previous entry continues the thought: A better food may no man find/ For to everlasting life it will lead us. (Carleton Brown, Religious Lyrics of the 14th Century)
It is even more clearly stated by John Lydgate in the medieval work called The Pilgrimage of the Life of Man. Christ is quoted as saying he leaves his body (Corpus Christi) to "true pilgrims" as the thing that may most avail them to relieve their travail/ travel as chief repast to sustain them.
While the surface story in this scene tells of an obliging innkeeper catering to his guests, Chaucer's underlying message is the acting out of the prevalent religious thought of his day. We will find that Chaucer often portrays a well known expression as an action.
The purpose of this blog is to ask questions and to recognize clues Chaucer gives to a second and deeper meaning. What we are confirming now is that there is a concealed image within the Canterbury Host. He is actually--he is also--Christ himself. Numerous factors point to this identity. Several are found in this scene between the Host and the pilgrims:
he settles accounts
he states he will be their judge
he demands immediate acceptance of his plan
Let's look at just the first item for now: settling accounts. We're told the pilgrims made their "reckonings." This can be read on one level as an innkeeper concerned about his profits, but there is no elaboration. Here again, Chaucer refrains from giving specific details. Though the action could be seen as dealing with money, coins are not mentioned. Why is that significant? Because lack of limiting details allows both the surface and underlying intention to be valid. Lack of specifics encourages ambiguity.
In the mind-set of Chaucer's day, terms which appeared to allude to money and bookkeeping transactions were the usual terminology for God's dealings with individuals at Judgment. For instance, in staging a Judgment scene in a Morality Play, each soul carries a personal balance sheet as he approaches Death's door. And Confessio Amantis, by John Gower (ca. 1386) uses different but similar language. At the soul's las Day of Account man will come before "Christ the Auditor."
We need to be aware that once the Host sets himself up as their ever-present judge, the atmosphere of judgment subtly permeates the whole journey. And does this please the journeyers? Next time we shall see.
The 14th century poem quoted in the previous entry continues the thought: A better food may no man find/ For to everlasting life it will lead us. (Carleton Brown, Religious Lyrics of the 14th Century)
It is even more clearly stated by John Lydgate in the medieval work called The Pilgrimage of the Life of Man. Christ is quoted as saying he leaves his body (Corpus Christi) to "true pilgrims" as the thing that may most avail them to relieve their travail/ travel as chief repast to sustain them.
While the surface story in this scene tells of an obliging innkeeper catering to his guests, Chaucer's underlying message is the acting out of the prevalent religious thought of his day. We will find that Chaucer often portrays a well known expression as an action.
The purpose of this blog is to ask questions and to recognize clues Chaucer gives to a second and deeper meaning. What we are confirming now is that there is a concealed image within the Canterbury Host. He is actually--he is also--Christ himself. Numerous factors point to this identity. Several are found in this scene between the Host and the pilgrims:
he settles accounts
he states he will be their judge
he demands immediate acceptance of his plan
Let's look at just the first item for now: settling accounts. We're told the pilgrims made their "reckonings." This can be read on one level as an innkeeper concerned about his profits, but there is no elaboration. Here again, Chaucer refrains from giving specific details. Though the action could be seen as dealing with money, coins are not mentioned. Why is that significant? Because lack of limiting details allows both the surface and underlying intention to be valid. Lack of specifics encourages ambiguity.
In the mind-set of Chaucer's day, terms which appeared to allude to money and bookkeeping transactions were the usual terminology for God's dealings with individuals at Judgment. For instance, in staging a Judgment scene in a Morality Play, each soul carries a personal balance sheet as he approaches Death's door. And Confessio Amantis, by John Gower (ca. 1386) uses different but similar language. At the soul's las Day of Account man will come before "Christ the Auditor."
We need to be aware that once the Host sets himself up as their ever-present judge, the atmosphere of judgment subtly permeates the whole journey. And does this please the journeyers? Next time we shall see.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Getting back to business--finally
Well, that "maybe even tomorrow" was certainly wishful thinking. We last spoke about the Canterbury Tales on September 26. Good grief! That's four months that I've left you anticipating the cause that made me "shudder." With all that's gone on in my life and yours, it's best that we refresh the ideas we were considering and work up to the shudder.
You may recall that the first time I read the description of the Host at the end of the General Prologue, what took shape in my mind's eye was the figure of Christ. His image became clearer with one detail after another.
The name "Host" opens the mind to the possibilities. His first action--after a warm welcome to the pilgrims--is to serve them the best food and strong wine. Such words were, and still are, often used poetically to describe the Eucharistic Host (the Bread of the Catholic Mass). Chaucer's Host offers to guide the pilgrims at his own cost. He declares that the group must accept his terms without discussion. He promises a banquet at the end of their journey. His repetition of "the way," in speaking of the journey, echoes the biblical declaration of Christ as "the way," (truth and life, John 14:6). And, as the travelers prepare to depart in the morning, Chaucer says the Host gathered them in a flock. Did you see a shepherd image momentarily--the Good Shepherd? Each attribute plays a part in creating the portrait.
The Pilgrim Cook mentions the Host's actual name--Herry Bailly--but it is never used. I bypassed the significance hidden in the name Herry Bailly in an earlier entry. But now let's see what Chaucer's imagination has hidden in these two words. Both the first and last name have another life as ordinary fourteenth-century Middle English words. Though herry is not a word in our modern vocabulary, it speaks of giving praise to God. Chaucer uses the word elsewhere. For example, "God they thank and herie (praise)" and "[He] herieth (praises) Christ, who is King of Heaven." As the Host's name, its ambiguity covertly praises God.
And, bailly, the second name, is defined as a figure of authority, an administrator. Together the words identify the Host as a praiseworthy leader. It is another link in a chain of clues.
Non-use of this given name demonstrates that the repetition of Host (sixty-six times) was the poet's aim, making its significance hard to ignore or dismiss. If the Host had been referred to as Herry, even now and then, Eucharistic possibilities--the Christic identity--would not exist.
The word/name directs our attention to the most renowned Host in the fourteenth century--the Eucharist. The presence of Christ within the Eucharistic Host had been proclaimed as dogma in 1215. The annual Feast of Corpus Christi (Body of Christ) was instituted and became mandatory in the Roman Church Calendar in 1312. Popularity of this feast grew as time went on. In Chaucer's lifetime, the celebration surpassed both Christmas and Easter in its resplendence. A grand procession became the traditional central element of the festivities. [We will speak of the procession another time.]
Returning to Chaucer's clues, the following lines have been difficult to decipher. The Host states:
And well I know the substance is in me,
If anything shall well-reported be.
Substance, here, has been interpreted as being able to understand, but that sense is not readily apparent. Instead, let's pursue substance in association with theology.
The primary definition of substance in the Oxford English Dictionary says: "Essential nature, essence; esp. Theol., with regard to the being of God, the divine nature or essence." That entry quotes the Athanasian Creed (1325) regarding Christ: "He is God of the substance of the Father." In addition, the first entry in the Middle English Dictionary says substance is "used of the incarnate Christ."
When the poet declares substance to be "in" the Host, this echoes Transubstantiation. Scholastic Theology, in describing transubstantiation, says the "accidents" (the attributes or qualities) of bread can be seen, while the "substance" (or essence) mystically becomes the body of Christ.
And what of the "oaths" (curses) the Host utters? In the General Prologue the poet inserted a disclaimer about Christ's words; though they may be strong, they are not meant to offend. When this character says, "for God's worshipful passion," and, "by the cross," if he is an ordinary man, we would take such phrases as blasphemy. But if spoken by Christ, rather than curses, they are allusions to his personal experience--to crucifixion!
One such oath--"Harrow!" said he, "by nails and by blood!"--we have already dealt with. Its significance could not be more powerful.
Our last consideration will be the Host/Pardoner confrontation which is ordinarily read with emphasis on humor. In a moment of apparent comedy, the Pilgrim Pardoner seems to reveal embarrassing information about the Host. Offering to absolve (pardon) each pilgrim of his or her sins, the Pardoner says first of the Host:
I advise that our Host here shall begin
For he is most enveloped in sin.
"Enveloped" is hand-picked by Chaucer; sins are external to the Host; sin surrounds, envelops him. Christ is often said to take all our sins upon Himself. Thus, sinfulness closely associated with Christ is external to His being; it envelops Him--as it does our Host. Here again, we find a comic surface that, when penetrated, reveals the presence of Christ. It takes only careful reading with an open mind to see the image.
Once we acknowledge that the figure of the Host contains both an innkeeper and Christ Himself, the question is: Why did the poet devise this covert plan? Why such an elaborate effort to disguise Christ? In the Canterbury Tales Chaucer creatively sets forth an affirmation and a dissension.
First is the affirming of Christ within the Host. Numerous depictions confirm His presence. With this identity established, recognition of the dissension is simple.
Recall that in England, the poet had lived through the violent end of The Peasant Revolt and the loss of many friends to sudden cruel ends. And, regarding the Church, he was well aware of the terror of the Inquisition and the anguish of the Great Schism.
Figures of authority, who ruled kingdoms or the Church, at that time, were believed to be chosen by God. Therefore, to oppose pronouncement of royalty or the hierarchy equaled high treason or heresy.
Chaucer's plan to record what he knew, to be guided by his conscience, in spite of possible dire consequences, is remarkable and courageous. With Christ's presence accepted, we are about to learn the dreadful situation that Virginia Adair recognized as concealed in the Host's personal disclosures.
You may recall that the first time I read the description of the Host at the end of the General Prologue, what took shape in my mind's eye was the figure of Christ. His image became clearer with one detail after another.
The name "Host" opens the mind to the possibilities. His first action--after a warm welcome to the pilgrims--is to serve them the best food and strong wine. Such words were, and still are, often used poetically to describe the Eucharistic Host (the Bread of the Catholic Mass). Chaucer's Host offers to guide the pilgrims at his own cost. He declares that the group must accept his terms without discussion. He promises a banquet at the end of their journey. His repetition of "the way," in speaking of the journey, echoes the biblical declaration of Christ as "the way," (truth and life, John 14:6). And, as the travelers prepare to depart in the morning, Chaucer says the Host gathered them in a flock. Did you see a shepherd image momentarily--the Good Shepherd? Each attribute plays a part in creating the portrait.
The Pilgrim Cook mentions the Host's actual name--Herry Bailly--but it is never used. I bypassed the significance hidden in the name Herry Bailly in an earlier entry. But now let's see what Chaucer's imagination has hidden in these two words. Both the first and last name have another life as ordinary fourteenth-century Middle English words. Though herry is not a word in our modern vocabulary, it speaks of giving praise to God. Chaucer uses the word elsewhere. For example, "God they thank and herie (praise)" and "[He] herieth (praises) Christ, who is King of Heaven." As the Host's name, its ambiguity covertly praises God.
And, bailly, the second name, is defined as a figure of authority, an administrator. Together the words identify the Host as a praiseworthy leader. It is another link in a chain of clues.
Non-use of this given name demonstrates that the repetition of Host (sixty-six times) was the poet's aim, making its significance hard to ignore or dismiss. If the Host had been referred to as Herry, even now and then, Eucharistic possibilities--the Christic identity--would not exist.
The word/name directs our attention to the most renowned Host in the fourteenth century--the Eucharist. The presence of Christ within the Eucharistic Host had been proclaimed as dogma in 1215. The annual Feast of Corpus Christi (Body of Christ) was instituted and became mandatory in the Roman Church Calendar in 1312. Popularity of this feast grew as time went on. In Chaucer's lifetime, the celebration surpassed both Christmas and Easter in its resplendence. A grand procession became the traditional central element of the festivities. [We will speak of the procession another time.]
Returning to Chaucer's clues, the following lines have been difficult to decipher. The Host states:
And well I know the substance is in me,
If anything shall well-reported be.
Substance, here, has been interpreted as being able to understand, but that sense is not readily apparent. Instead, let's pursue substance in association with theology.
The primary definition of substance in the Oxford English Dictionary says: "Essential nature, essence; esp. Theol., with regard to the being of God, the divine nature or essence." That entry quotes the Athanasian Creed (1325) regarding Christ: "He is God of the substance of the Father." In addition, the first entry in the Middle English Dictionary says substance is "used of the incarnate Christ."
When the poet declares substance to be "in" the Host, this echoes Transubstantiation. Scholastic Theology, in describing transubstantiation, says the "accidents" (the attributes or qualities) of bread can be seen, while the "substance" (or essence) mystically becomes the body of Christ.
And what of the "oaths" (curses) the Host utters? In the General Prologue the poet inserted a disclaimer about Christ's words; though they may be strong, they are not meant to offend. When this character says, "for God's worshipful passion," and, "by the cross," if he is an ordinary man, we would take such phrases as blasphemy. But if spoken by Christ, rather than curses, they are allusions to his personal experience--to crucifixion!
One such oath--"Harrow!" said he, "by nails and by blood!"--we have already dealt with. Its significance could not be more powerful.
Our last consideration will be the Host/Pardoner confrontation which is ordinarily read with emphasis on humor. In a moment of apparent comedy, the Pilgrim Pardoner seems to reveal embarrassing information about the Host. Offering to absolve (pardon) each pilgrim of his or her sins, the Pardoner says first of the Host:
I advise that our Host here shall begin
For he is most enveloped in sin.
"Enveloped" is hand-picked by Chaucer; sins are external to the Host; sin surrounds, envelops him. Christ is often said to take all our sins upon Himself. Thus, sinfulness closely associated with Christ is external to His being; it envelops Him--as it does our Host. Here again, we find a comic surface that, when penetrated, reveals the presence of Christ. It takes only careful reading with an open mind to see the image.
Once we acknowledge that the figure of the Host contains both an innkeeper and Christ Himself, the question is: Why did the poet devise this covert plan? Why such an elaborate effort to disguise Christ? In the Canterbury Tales Chaucer creatively sets forth an affirmation and a dissension.
First is the affirming of Christ within the Host. Numerous depictions confirm His presence. With this identity established, recognition of the dissension is simple.
Recall that in England, the poet had lived through the violent end of The Peasant Revolt and the loss of many friends to sudden cruel ends. And, regarding the Church, he was well aware of the terror of the Inquisition and the anguish of the Great Schism.
Figures of authority, who ruled kingdoms or the Church, at that time, were believed to be chosen by God. Therefore, to oppose pronouncement of royalty or the hierarchy equaled high treason or heresy.
Chaucer's plan to record what he knew, to be guided by his conscience, in spite of possible dire consequences, is remarkable and courageous. With Christ's presence accepted, we are about to learn the dreadful situation that Virginia Adair recognized as concealed in the Host's personal disclosures.
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