Cock-a-doodle who?

A couple of entries back (Oct 9) I said we'd find another bird concealed among the pilgrims. Now is the time.
     The General Prologue, that introduces all the pilgrims, begins with two trios of travelers. We've already seen the Knight, Squire, and Yeoman as a trinity; the third person is a peacock. The Prioress, the Second Nun and their accompanying Priest also make up a trinity and, again, as a parody of the Catholic Trinity, we'll find a bird masquerading in the third person--the Nun's Priest.
     We're told nothing about the Priest-Pilgrim until he is called upon to tell his tale. Recall that at the surface we see transportation is by horse, but at the covert level what is said of the transport can also divulge something about the Pilgrim. Instead of being respectful, the Host speaks rudely to the Priest calling his "horse" foul and lean. That's the first "bird" clue, and foul will be used again. When the Priest had his tale attamed/atamed, it can mean he began his story, but it can also say he controlled his tail!    
     After the Priest tells the very entertaining story of Chaunticleer (a rooster), the Host has much to say about the Priest's tendencies and appearance, often reflecting the fictional rooster's attributes. It has long been assumed the the Host is poking fun at a "man" with bird terminology. That works on the surface, but we aim to see the identity at a second level hidden within the pilgrim disguise.
     If the Priest had been a secular, he'd have been a trede-foul (there's foul again) meaning he'd have been a sexually active bird. Chaunticleer had seven hens for his pleasure, but this character would need seven times seventeen hens! His "braun" is admirable; the word refers to flesh as meat. Chaunticleer was described stretching his neck; this priest also has a great neck and a large breast, as well, to add to his bird portrait. His eyes are bird eyes, like those of a hawk. Now add a splash of color to the picture. Where Chaunticleer had a comb redder than fine coral, we learn that no dye is needed for this Priest's features because they are naturally bright red. Visualize a cockscomb and wattle.
     Once you picture this priest as a rooster a couple of other lines yield a second meaning. The bird role mimics the Catholic image of "Victim and Priest." Roosters were the victims in pagan augury. They would be sacrificed and their entrails examined to determine whether the future would bring good fortune--or no. Chaucer provides hints of augury.
     To begin with, the Priest declares he must always be merry or he will be blamed. A happy outcome is always desired or the sacrificed bird will be the bearer of bad news! Then, during the story, Chaunticleer he is distressed, fearful. And what does Pertelote, his wife, recommend for her rooster husband? Take a laxative! That will improve the condition of his entrails which, in turn, will brighten the future.
     (That's enough for here. But, if you want more details of how Chaucer wove extensive pagan elements into this trinity, see Chaucer's Pilgrims, pages 278-299.)

Unexpected ideas--including a bird!

The afternoon at Rowland Heights Library was unforgettable. It goes to prove that we need to ask questions about what Chaucer is doing. His works are not stiff, not dead, not completely understood. Questions add life, interest and new paths to investigate. Three gray-haired Chaucer lovers--Helen and Linda and Tom--demonstrated just how exciting it can get.

I generally start my presentation by promoting Middle English. As an ice-breaker, I  pass out little pink papers with a medieval version of the story of the three pigs. When I asked for a volunteer to read it, Linda said she'd try. You have to have a little courage, a little self-confidence to read Middle English in public, but it's not impossible--Three litel pigges eche hadde a hous--oon was straw, a-nothir was woode, the thridde brikkes.--See what I mean?
     After Linda's fine delivery, we moved on to the "game" I created that shows how Chaucer presents dual descriptions: the Canterbury travelers are really an organized group but each is disguised as a pilgrim. Really? Yes, really.
     Helen came to hear what I had to say about Chaucer because she had enjoyed reading his tales in high school many years ago. It astonished her when she correctly identified the hidden, the concealed, figure of one of the pilgrims. When the game had run its course she said, "I came today because I like Chaucer, but I was not prepared for this whole new world you've opened up!"
     That pleased me, as you can imagine. To make readers aware of the unacknowledged genius of Chaucer is my aim. His creativity goes far beyond that of a mere storyteller.
     Linda added that her class in Chaucer's Tales talked about the possibility of the Pilgrims being identified as Christ's Apostles. There are many ways to see the plan of the Tales. With biblical figures in mind, a brief perusal of a Chaucer concordance finds mention of Adam and Eve in Paradise, Noah and the flood, Joseph, Mary, Herod, Caesar, Magdalene, Satan, hell, heaven and ever-present Judgment. Of course, a "brief perusal" is only a place to start. With enough thought and research, a Bible message might be revealed in the Tales. That's especially true because the best storytellers in Chaucer's day were expected to provide a hidden meaning--a challenge to be discovered.
     When our conversation turned to a religious topic, Tom spoke up. He said, "I've always wondered about the Knight, his son and their servant. That has all the makings of a Trinity." I added that I had had a similar thought.  [It's covered in detail in my Chaucer's Pilgrims, pp. 263-277.] Here's the gist of it.
     The servant--Yeoman--has one of the briefest introductions, a mere seventeen lines. The image is exceptionally colorful, and peacock feathers are an unexpected feature. His head is close-cropped, and his face is brown. He has a coat and hood of green and a green shoulder strap for his horn. He is  equipped with a sword and an elegant dagger as sharp as the point of a spear.
     Put the details together and see the neat, brilliant green head of a peacock with eyes and a beak of brown. The horn provides its raucous voice. Bird's talons were described by Pliny, centuries before Chaucer, as "weapons [that] grow upon their legs."
     Now, how to begin to explain why the Yeoman must be a peacock? We have before us a group of three figures: the father, the son and the peacock. It recalls for me an exasperated reply I once heard given by a theologian. In response to a question about the role of the Holy Spirit, he sputtered, "That damned bird!" The third person of the Trinity is not a bird. That's just a mental picture we are attached to. I see Chaucer replicating here that picture of the Trinity with pagan personifications. That's why a bird needs to be part of this group.
     One heretical opinion saw the Holy Spirit as "a mere creature, who differs only in degree from the angels." And, angels wings, in medieval illustrations, were made of peacock feathers. We can see Chaucer's portrayal in a pagan light as a poetic variation of the third person of the Trinity.
     The Yeoman tells no story. After he is introduced, he is never seen or heard from again. This fits because the Holy Spirit is often referred to as silent--going about His work in silence.
     So Rowland Heights gained the stimulation of new, unexpected ideas. That's what Chaucer deserves.