The Friar--a bag of tricks

We've had a brief look at Aries in the entries called "Written in the Stars" (4-23-2012). It showed how Chaucer provides star clues to recognize the signs of the zodiac. Now we'll take a broader look at Aries disguised as the Friar in his introduction in the General Prologue. Some Pilgrim introductions are minimal, but the Friar boasts sixty lines! The poet has a full palette to draw from, and he does. Hints from mythology, astronomy, astrology, medieval dramatics, the animal image, and symbolism are sprinkled throughout.

The myth tells of a young brother and sister--Phrixus and Helle--who are saved from a wicked stepmother by a magical ram (as in sheep). The creature flies through the air toward a safe destination with them on its back. Phrixus lands safely, but unfortunately, his sister loses her hold and falls into the water (today's Dardanelles) and drowns. And, unfortunately for the ram, Phrixus is so grateful to be safe that he sacrifices it! The ram's hide becomes the legendary Golden Fleece. And the gods reward the heroic animal by placing it in the heavens as the constellation Aries.
     An ancient creation story says the earth was made when the sun was in Aries. So in astronomy the sign coincides with the vernal equinox in March, which announces the beginning of a new year. The poet hints at a sign of beginning by inserting "In principio." Locating the figure in the sky is aided by a triangle of stars, sometimes seen as a harp, above it. Two distinctive stars--Hamal and Sheratan--mark the animal's head. And identifying the constellation couldn't be easier as Chaucer tells us:
               And in his harping, when he had sung,
               His eyes twinkled in his head aright,
               As do the stars in the frosty night.
March nights would certainly by "frosty."
     Astrologically, Aries is "a dreaded sign" indicating passionate temper and bodily hurt. Violence is also expected because of the association with Mars. The poet refers to men in pain, victimized widows and the Friar's rage. Several lines are a challenge to understand. Though editors interpret the words, the message doesn't seem to fit. We'll give that a closer look a little later.
     As the animal image, Chaucer says the Friar's "clothes" are not threadbare, but clothing fit for a person of importance.
               For there he was not like a cloisterer
              With a threadbare cope, as is the poor scholar,
              But he was like a master or pope.
              Of double worsted was his "semycope,"
              That is round as a bell out of the press.
He has a "semycope" (short cloak) made of worsted (wool). It is rounded as a "belle" (a kind of cloak or tunic) out of a "presse," which is a device to press and stretch cloth. In other words his woolen cloak--his fleece--fits him as if it were pressed and stretched just for him. What fun for the poet.
     Let's take a second look at the "worsted." This is fabric of "well-twisted yarn, long-staple wool."A handsome ram would have such a coat. But even better, the cope, the garment in question, is "double" worsted. "Double" seems an innocent enough word, but it's concealing a second image. The word is also the name of a medieval French gold coin. (Medieval Spain had the "doubloon.") Chaucer, in his international business dealings, would be familiar with a great variety of coins. To call the garment "double worsted" then becomes gold worsted, as in the famed Golden Fleece.
     Symbolically, being an animal with cloven hooves makes the Friar a symbol of the devil, often illustrated as a shaggy black ram. This covert diabolical identity applies to much of the Friar's portrait. We'll pick up there next time and uncover the entertaining allusion to medieval drama as well.
    
    

The dynamic Miller

When Harold Brooks, a Chaucer scholar, likened the Miller's portrait to "a great bull," the dynamic depiction is stillborn. Though Chaucer's rendering is clear, no startling vitality emerges unless you know you're dealing with the zodiac.

Taurus' bodily characteristics fill fifteen of the twenty-two line introduction. The Pilgrim Miller
          Very big he was of muscles, and of bones.
          . . . 
          At wrestling he would always have the ram.
The ram he'd win as a wrestler is a prize. But the zodiac reading also sees Taurus always succeeding, overcoming the Ram--that is, Aries, the Ram.
      Chaucer supplies a simple picture-perfect portrait:
          He was short-shouldered, broad, thick as a knarre (gnarled tree).
     Then the poet astonishes us and adds vigor to the animal impression.
          There was no door that he could not heave off its hinge,
          Or break it by running at it with his head.
     A rarity follows. We learn details of the Miller's face.
          His beard was red as any sow or fox,
          And also broad, as though it were a spade.
The comparison is to rustic non-humans! And the grotesque association of a chin wide as a spade keeps us entertained.
      The Taurus constellation has two star-clusters: the Pleiades and the Hyades. Both become part of the continuing description of his face.
          On the very top of his nose he had
          A wart, and on it stood a tuft of hairs.
The Pleiades have inspired many poetic visions: a swarm of fireflies, a cluster of golden bees, or folds of silk decked with gems. I can't help but be amused at Chaucer picturing them as a hairy wart!
          His nostrils were black and wide.
These wide, black nostrils ought to be a giveaway. You have to skim past a lot of powerful beast-like features to remain oblivious to this prime bull-like attribute.
     The next line sounds strictly human--unless it is used figuratively.
          A sword and buckler (small shield) he bore by his side.
But in the Middle Ages beasts were said to use their horns as men use weapons! An MED entry confirms this: "Out . . . come four-and-twenty oxen playing at the sword and buckler." It's more of the poet's game.
     Because this is a horned animal, he corresponds the the traditional representation of the devil. The Hyades, Taurus' second star-cluster, appears here.
          His mouth was as great as a great furnace. 
Ovid sees the radiant Hyades as "seven flames." And a mouth like a furnace, again, indicates the devil. In medieval writings, one often encounters a furnace intending "fires of hell." Sermons refer to "the yawning chasm of hell-mouth." Chaucer's Parson, too, speaks of the devil's furnace.
     The Miller's devilish traits follow.
          He was a teller of dirty stories and a glutton of words.
Much of the Miller's Tale revels in sin, obscene behavior, and filth.
     As a miller, he was a furtive thief.
          Stealing corn and tax[ing] it thrice.
In Taurus' constellation, the star Aldebaran is yellow and brightest in the zodiac. This is featured as the Miller's "thumb of gold" that aids his thievery.
     As the portrait draws to a close, Taurus' mythology plays a small part.
          A white coat and blue hood he wore.
In Troilus, Chaucer alludes to Taurus "the white Bole," of the myth. The blue hood I take to mean the firmament.
     Finally, the devil returns.
          A bagpipe well could he blow and sound, 
          And therewith he brought us out of town.
A triptych by Hieronymus Bosch shows pipers playing flesh-colored bagpipes at a celebration. The pipes symbolize "perversions and snares of the flesh." More precisely, it is the performing piper who encourages "perversions and snares of the flesh."
     Ultimately, when the pilgrims actually begin their journey, there is no mention of the Miller or his bagpipes. Chaucer projects a momentary mental picture here, just for effect (as he did with Bobbe-up-and-doun and the Scales).
     Taurus, the second of Pilgrim Chaucer's clique, is the Devil--as in "the world, the flesh, and the devil." Our fourteenth-century poet surely acknowledgd the Devil as a force in life.
     Next time--dreadful Scorpio.