Summoner/Pardoner: death and pardon

The Summoner and Pardoner are said to be companions but we will come to see them as collaborators.
          With him (the Summoner) ther rood a gentil Pardoner
          Of Rouncivale, his freend and his compeer.
The camaraderie acted out between the Summoner (Aquarius/Death) and this Pardoner, has no comparable elaboration anywhere else in the General Prologue. Where the rest of the group is concerned, a friend of one of the travelers is merely said to be "in the company" of the other. In cases of pilgrims who are blood relatives--brothers, father and son--the poet only says "with him" was his son or his brother. The Summoner/Pardoner alliance is unique. The first six lines of what we would expect to be exclusively the Pardoner's introduction are taken up, instead, with details of the interaction between there two characters.
          With (the Summoner) there rode a noble Pardoner
          Of Roncevalles, his friend and his intimate companion,
          That had come straight from the court of Rome.
          Full loud he sang "Come hither, love, to me!"
          The summoner bore him a stiff burden;
          Was never a trumpet half so great a sound.
A direct clue to the source of their closeness is the Pardoner's connection to Rouncivale (modern Roncesvalle, in northern Spain). Importance of the city's name goes back centuries to Charles the Great, Charlemagne, and to the battle memorialized in the Song of Roland. Chaucer refers to it in the Book of the Duchess.
     Written about the year 1100, Roland's epic is filled with crusading, although the action spoken of takes place in the 700s, predating the Crusades by centuries. Roland and the rear guard for Charlemagne were caught in an ambush. The hero's words, "We may be martyred" is terminology used in stories of saints who gave their lives for their faith. Archbishop Turpin, who is among the rear guard, encouraged the knights who were about to do battle against the "pagans":
          "Charles has left us here, lord barons.
          He is the king. It is our duty
          To die for him and Christianity.
          It's battle now for all you men;
          There they are, the Saracens!
          Confess your sins, and God's forgiveness
          Will be ensured for those I bless.
          If you die, you will be as martyrs, 
          High in Paradise hereafter."
Pardon is granted because of the circumstances of their death; they were designated as martyrs, pardoned of all sins, and destined for an immediate place in heaven. Roland's Song is a record of Pardon and Death collaborating at Rouncivale.
     This form of general absolution was also granted to the actual Crusades. Pope Eugene III (in 1145) declared, "Those who devoutly undertake and accomplish [a crusade], or who die by the way, shall obtain absolution for all their sins . . . and receive (from God) the reward of eternal life." It is a promise that a soul will forego the cleansing of purgatory, as well as be released from the threats of hell. Chaucer knew of the close ties between death and pardon. Crusades, and plans for crusade, though lesser efforts, were made while he lived.
     Now let's return to the two Canterbury pilgrims and Rouncivale. They perform a song together. The Summoner's voice, said to be more powerful than a trumpet blast, evokes heavenly trumpets proclaiming Judgment. It also serves as an allusion to Roland's trumpet call, a signal mystically heard miles away by Charlemagne.
     Their duet says more than the words admit on first reading. The Summoner, with his great voice, is carrying a "stif burdoun." Musically that is a strong bass vocal line. At a deeper level there is a grim vision--the carrying of a rigid corpse, the daily mission of this Summoner/Death. The lyric "Come hither, love, to me," when delivered in unison by Pardon and Death, gives rise to foreboding. The significance of the medieval religious perspective may be difficult to assimilate today. However, the  words "Come hither, love, to me" covertly convey "Become a Christian or die." The Song of Roland expresses this very sentiment, especially in the baptismal scene. It recounts the guiding principle of Charlemagne and his forces in avenging the fallen French martyrs. A throng of defeated Saracens are gathered together. Then, a simple ceremony of "conversion" begins.
          The bishops speak their holy words
          Over the water, and they lead
          The pagans to the baptistry:
          Any who opposes Charles's will
          Is hung or burnt or otherwise killed. 
          A hundred thousand are baptised.
If the "come hither" invitation is refused, there is only one alternative.
     A closer look at the Pardoner next time.

Thopas--Melibee 1-2-3

We are at the windup of Chaucer's personal centerpiece--Thopas and Melibee--the presentation of the poet's alter ego, Pilgrim Chaucer. Because the journeyers are asked to "tell of adventures that had happened," I take the events to be patterned after Chaucer's life. Thopas recounts sprinting as a young man engaged in sexual conquests surviving an ordeal resulting from his pursuits; recovering--and returning to "life as usual." His "return" finds him among royal society, living the courtly life. Then it happens. A spiritual confrontation causes him an about-face, a determination to lead a moral life. That's where we are now.

The  Pilgrim's second offering translates a popular French tale about Melibee, that is, "a man who drinks honey." The poet says he may change some of the words, but that will only serve to reinforce his subject matter.
     French Melibee has a wife, Prudence, and a nameless daughter. He leaves his wife and daughter at home and goes into the world looking for entertainment. In his absence, enemies beat Prudence and wound the daughter. The remainder of the plot deals with Melibee's deciding what vengeful action to take. Prudence counsels him at length!
     Now to Chaucer's translation. The first thing the poet adds is a pastoral setting. Melibee goes "into the fields." Prudence confirms his intent as sexual. Echoes of Thopas!
     Next, Chaucer gives the anonymous daughter a significant name--Sophie, which means wisdom. The plot gains a dual message. Now, besides learning of domestic events, we know Melibee failed to have the virtues of Prudence and Wisdom accompany him!
     In his absence, enemies beat his wife and wound his daughter, leaving her for dead. Chaucer's scenario deals with Melibee's reaction to the attack, and--of added urgency--finding the means for Sophie's recovery. Her recovery represents the restoration of Melibee's wisdom.
     Prudence tells Melibee that if he will trust her advice, she will restore Sophie's well-being. After much debate, Melibee decides in favor of Prudence. When he says, "I will do your will and put myself completely under your guidance," we know Sophie--his wisdom--will be restored.
     Chaucer also enhances the spiritual content. Where the French simply repeats Dieu, Chaucer diversifies with "Almighty God," "Jesus Christ," or "Lord God of heaven." And when the French merely alludes to "Second Corinthians," Chaucer quotes the verse: The joye of God is perdurable, that is to seyn everlastynge.
     When the French text comes to an end, Chaucer adds one more conviction.
               Doubtless, if we are sorry and repent of the sins 
              which we committed in the sight of our Lord God, 
              he is so generous and merciful that he will forgive our guilts 
              and bring us to the bliss that never ends. Amen.
This is the pilgrim poet's ultimate "reinforcement."
     Though Thopas' wrong-doing is obvious--his account more outspoken than Melibee's--both characters had sinful beginnings. Thopas endures bodily anguish for physical transgressions. In contrast, Melibee is afflicted with mental anguish over the damage to his Prudence and Wisdom.
     Eventually Meibee prudently, wiselcounsels:
               He is truly worthy to have pardon and forgiveness of his sin, 
              who does not excuse his sin, but acknowledges it and repents.
Thopas is on the right track. His tale is a straightforward acknowledgment of misdeeds without excuses. Melibee's guilt, on the other hand, is more subtle. But he too acknowledges his sinfulness (prompted by Prudence). Mercy is anticipated for both.

Pilgrim Chaucer's performance becomes a physical-spiritual dichotomy. Recall the little grotesque figures identified with Thopas as the personality "below the waist," the genital area with a mind of its own. Then Melibee is the upper or elevated portion--the portion dominated by the mind or soul--that has the mouth filled with honey. Together they are the dual nature of one man.
     Melibee who knew the honey of "temporal riches and delights, and honors" seems a proper image of the poet--trusted international servant, and entertaining performer to English kings and court. This upper honey-filled portion could portray the public life of our poet; Thopas, the lower prickster component, his private life. Together they are a personal centerpiece dramatizing Geoffrey Chaucer's transgressions, conversion, and confidence in God's mercy.
  

The "battle" betwixt Thopas and Melibee

As we prepare to meet self-willed Thopas let's repeat the cover statement for all my proposals: I have no argument with other interpretations put forth for Thopas or any of Chaucer's presentations. My purpose is to show that Chaucer intends a second level of meaning.
     An essential detail, as we construct the overall plan for the poet/narrator's "centerpiece," is to see that the Host in his covert identity is Christ, the guide of pilgrims. So, when the Host calls upon Pilgrim Chaucer, the poet reacts as he would toward God. Chaucer had been in charge of customs, and therefore a tax collector. The Prologue to Thopas echoes the situation of the biblical publican (tax collector) in the temple. Chaucer hangs back and stares at the ground, just as the publican had. (Luke 18:9-14) Christ urges him to approach and look up. The Host then goes on to compare Chaucer's appearance to His own figure, indicating that the poet is made in the image of God. When the Host refers to him as a "popet," we take him to be a small likeness of Christ.
     The Pilgrim is now prepared to present his story "learned long ago." The stories requested from each pilgrim are adventures (experiences) that had befallen them (aventures that whilom han befalle). As said in the previous entry, what follows is a dual offering patterned after the medieval battle betwixt body and soul, a genre popular in the second half of the fourteenth century. Perhaps, in this case, "body and mind" comes closer.
     Thopas, with his pricking, is the personality "below the waist," the genital area with a mind of its own. This idea, as shown here, was often illustrated in illuminated manuscripts:

The fourteenth-century preacher Holcot, for example, complained that men have two heads. They have "a body of sin joined to the natural body."
     Christ's interrupting the poet's catalogue of "accomplishments" portrays God's intervention in Chaucer's life. The little drama that connects Thopas to Melibee is an account of Chaucer's conversion, his turning from vice to virtue. Conversion was believed to happen suddenly--in the blink of an eye. The pilgrim's response immediately becomes centered on biblical versions of Christ's passion and death. This is particularly appropriate because devotion to Christ's Passion was the recommended "antidote" for the temptation of lust. Melibee, the intellectual or spiritual aspect of the body, now gains control.
     The Tale of Melibee is translated from a popular French story. Chaucer personalizes it with additions, deletions, and modifications. The changes, the poet explains, are intended to "reinforce the effect" of the original. What he chose as a model, he makes even more so.
     Now you have the overall plan. Next time we join Thopas who "was born at Popering." (Popering, BTW, also means pricking.)

Item: Geoffrey and Cecilia

Circumstantial evidence concerning Chaucer and Cecilia, his accuser, appears to add up to his guilt and her benefiting from a substantial monetary settlement. We'll never have conclusive evidence so I, for one, go along with the guilt/settlement scenario.
     Then there is the matter of Chaucer addressing "little Lewis, my son." The boy is ten years old, ten years after the raptus case. Lewis could be Chaucer's son by Cecilia. And, recall that in fourteenth-century thinking, if pregnancy results from coitus, cooperation is assumed. So, if Cecilia finds herself pregnant, wouldn't she examine her participation? Wouldn't she conclude that she must have been willing to some degree?
     What I'm getting at is that a relationship between Cecilia and Chaucer could have existed. Because Chaucer's wife's pension ceased after June 1387, her death is assumed. That's four years before Lewis' tenth birthday. Circumstances make a Geoffrey/Cecilia relationship possible.
     A firm connection clearly exists between Chaucer and the name "Cecilia." One of the pilgrim stories--The Second Nun's Tale--recounts the life of St. Cecilia. Chaucer scholar, George Cowling, long ago, proposed that the "Life of St. Cecile" was meant to honor Cecilia Chaumpaigne. It may be more than honoring her; she may have required it from the poet. She may have wanted the assault upon her admitted, and Chaucer's repentance acknowledged. (Her patron, St. Cecilia, brought many men to conversion.) I believe Chaucer covertly confirms such requirements!
     This blog aims to question long-held assumptions. We'll look at Chaucer's words as if he really meant what others have taken to be errors.
     Speculation says that the Cecilia piece had been written for another occasion and the poet simply included it in the Tales. If he did so without adapting the original presentation, that explains a lot. For example, why the usual formula that introduces other tales is not used; why the narrator surprisingly addresses "you who read what I write"; why the speaker refers to being "an unworthy son of Eve"; and why the sinful "contagion of my body with earthly lust and false affection"--rather than spoken by a narrating nun--now becomes appropriate.
     There is no invitation from the Host, followed by a story and a conclusion linked to the next tale. Nevertheless, Cecilia's story was meant to be there, because the very next tale begins, "When the life of St. Cecilia was ended, Ere we'd ridden five miles . . ."
     The Second Nun's Tale begins with an exhortation against idleness, the devil's trap. A prayer to the Virgin, for her assistance, follows. Then the translation of the story of St. Cecilia, as found in The Golden Legend (a collection of saint's lives), begins.
     Though it's easy to overlook, Chaucer attaches an extra stanza to conclude the translated introduction. Why the added lines that only reiterate Cecilia's virtues? The answer is what makes research so exciting. The last line masks a hidden meaning! That Middle English line reads:
     Now have I yow declared what she highte.
"Highte" contains two different messages. The line can be read, "I have declared to you what she was named." That's just more repetition.
     But Chaucer uses an alternate definition of "highte" elsewhere to say "command." Here his added words announce, "I have declared to you what she commanded."  The preliminaries to the tale declare, I am the sinful one; she is persevering in good works. Thus, he has fulfilled her demand.
      Without doubt, Chaucer has immortalized  Cecilia. Her name will be remembered as long as the Canterbury Tales circulate.