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.
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Thursday, December 19, 2013
The efficient Manciple
If you assumed every zodiac image came from a myth, it's not true. Libra, the Scales, became the twelfth zodiac character by Julius Caesar's declaration. Sometimes called the Balance, Libra appears at the autumnal equinox in September when night and day are equal.
The Pilgrim Manciple, Libra, has no personality. Chaucer side-steps describing a weighing scale in terms of a human being. He illustrates the Manciple's capabilities, instead.
Scales were essential to medieval business, but searching narratives of transactions with scales provided few facts. When I pursued the word Libra, instead, Chaucer's scheme proved simple. The Latin word libra means pound; that's why the British pound is symbolized as a fancy "L"--£, which stands for libra. (Our lb for a pound of sugar also comes from libra.) This Manciple, as Libra , is money, the agent of business transactions. We learn he is an exemplary purchaser and a help to many people under many circumstances. Of course!
Chaucer says, "He always wayted so in his buying," where "wayted" (as in lady-in-waiting) is a play on watched and on weighted. "He was always beforehand in good staat." Good state refers to being in an unchanging position, like a scale that is balanced before money changes hands. Good state can also refer to an aspect of heavenly bodies, such as planets in a favorable position.
A question follows. "Isn't it a gift of God when an uneducated man's wit surpasses the wisdom of learned men?" Chaucer's questions are devious. The words are purposeful, but don't affirm what they say. Mention of an uneducated man just maintains the human pretense. Learned men could be at a disadvantage when tradesmen use dishonest scales.
"Masters" were in charge of the Manciple's activities--"more than thrice ten," a number akin to days in a zodiac sign. His masters "were of the law expert and skillful." Experts in law come in many varieties. England's commerce had laws, and masters of those laws. Early in the fourteenth century, London installed an official weighing machine overseen by a weighmaster. A corps of eight "master measurers," had twenty-four assistants. That also totals "more than thrice ten."
Of a master Chaucer says, "There were a dozen in that house." Again the number attracts attention. By law, every twelve months weights were inspected and duly registered. The twelve zodiac signs could be masters over transactions, as well, because celestial calculations often preceded business dealings. The poet recommends that the twelve are worthy to be in charge of "revenue," where both money and zodiac influence can be intended.
The Manciple's tale includes fun with images of scales and money. Another question: Do you know the town called "Bobbe-up-and-doun"? Our mind's eye sees the bobbing of a scale, the question's only purpose. Money is the subject of a man for hire, reckonings, and his willingness to pay.
With minimal challenge, the Manciple, Libra, represents Money, as the first influence in Chaucer's clique. The poet said his purse is his life, comfort and the source of good company. If "it" is in need, he laments, "I may die!"
Next we'll ponder the role of Taurus, the most recognizable sign of the zodiac.
The Pilgrim Manciple, Libra, has no personality. Chaucer side-steps describing a weighing scale in terms of a human being. He illustrates the Manciple's capabilities, instead.
Scales were essential to medieval business, but searching narratives of transactions with scales provided few facts. When I pursued the word Libra, instead, Chaucer's scheme proved simple. The Latin word libra means pound; that's why the British pound is symbolized as a fancy "L"--£, which stands for libra. (Our lb for a pound of sugar also comes from libra.) This Manciple, as Libra , is money, the agent of business transactions. We learn he is an exemplary purchaser and a help to many people under many circumstances. Of course!
Chaucer says, "He always wayted so in his buying," where "wayted" (as in lady-in-waiting) is a play on watched and on weighted. "He was always beforehand in good staat." Good state refers to being in an unchanging position, like a scale that is balanced before money changes hands. Good state can also refer to an aspect of heavenly bodies, such as planets in a favorable position.
A question follows. "Isn't it a gift of God when an uneducated man's wit surpasses the wisdom of learned men?" Chaucer's questions are devious. The words are purposeful, but don't affirm what they say. Mention of an uneducated man just maintains the human pretense. Learned men could be at a disadvantage when tradesmen use dishonest scales.
"Masters" were in charge of the Manciple's activities--"more than thrice ten," a number akin to days in a zodiac sign. His masters "were of the law expert and skillful." Experts in law come in many varieties. England's commerce had laws, and masters of those laws. Early in the fourteenth century, London installed an official weighing machine overseen by a weighmaster. A corps of eight "master measurers," had twenty-four assistants. That also totals "more than thrice ten."
Of a master Chaucer says, "There were a dozen in that house." Again the number attracts attention. By law, every twelve months weights were inspected and duly registered. The twelve zodiac signs could be masters over transactions, as well, because celestial calculations often preceded business dealings. The poet recommends that the twelve are worthy to be in charge of "revenue," where both money and zodiac influence can be intended.
The Manciple's tale includes fun with images of scales and money. Another question: Do you know the town called "Bobbe-up-and-doun"? Our mind's eye sees the bobbing of a scale, the question's only purpose. Money is the subject of a man for hire, reckonings, and his willingness to pay.
With minimal challenge, the Manciple, Libra, represents Money, as the first influence in Chaucer's clique. The poet said his purse is his life, comfort and the source of good company. If "it" is in need, he laments, "I may die!"
Next we'll ponder the role of Taurus, the most recognizable sign of the zodiac.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Pilgrim Chaucer's Clique
At the close of the previous entry, I said we would face challenges with this new topic. If you're familiar with the General Prologue, you know that acquainting us with the pilgrims goes on for many pages--the Knight, the Wife, the Friar, the Monk, the Physician, Sir Thopas and more. Then, an apparently random cluster, like five left-overs, are presented all at once, as if Chaucer is in a rush to have done with the introductions. But that's not it at all. Immediately after citing the five, the individuals are singled out and given as detailed and unique a description as all those who came before. Finding a reason for this tactic is the first challenge.
Here is how Chaucer begins:
There was also a Reeve, and a Miller,
A Summoner, and a Pardoner also,
A Manciple, and myself--there were no more.
This is what their occupations amounted to: A reeve kept the records of what was produced on a manor, and the work done. A miller needs no special explanation. A summoner was a petty clerical officer who cited people to appear before the ecclesiastical court. A pardoner was a minor churchman, who had the reputation of selling "little pardons" in lieu of other penances. A manciple was an employee of an institution and functioned mainly in the purchasing of provisions.
Because I understood that the pilgrims were signs of the zodiac, my first thought had to do with astrology. Were these signs significant to Chaucer's birth date? That may be true, but it is well nigh impossible to discover facts to support this notion because birth dates of commoners--such as Chaucer--were rarely recorded.
So why set them in a group? At first glance it might seem pointless, but Pilgrim Chaucer is made a member of this clique. That is surely a signal to gain our attention. These characters must have some sort of affinity with one another and some sort of relationship with the author/pilgrim.
I'd worked with the five for quite a while, first this one, then that one, when a recognizable traditional influence came into focus for each! The five did portray pilgrims and signs of the zodiac--but now, clearly, each had a third role to play. These were not incidental associates. The poet had reserved this handful to construct the ultimate image of his own pilgrimage. That answers the first challenge.
We will deal separately with the members of his clique, to illustrate what it is that connects each one to the others and to Chaucer's pilgrimage--his life. Our search will acquaint us with Scorpio, Taurus, Aquarius, Pisces, and Libra.
We'll begin next time with Libra, the Manciple because its significance will be obvious after very little evidence.
Here is how Chaucer begins:
There was also a Reeve, and a Miller,
A Summoner, and a Pardoner also,
A Manciple, and myself--there were no more.
This is what their occupations amounted to: A reeve kept the records of what was produced on a manor, and the work done. A miller needs no special explanation. A summoner was a petty clerical officer who cited people to appear before the ecclesiastical court. A pardoner was a minor churchman, who had the reputation of selling "little pardons" in lieu of other penances. A manciple was an employee of an institution and functioned mainly in the purchasing of provisions.
Because I understood that the pilgrims were signs of the zodiac, my first thought had to do with astrology. Were these signs significant to Chaucer's birth date? That may be true, but it is well nigh impossible to discover facts to support this notion because birth dates of commoners--such as Chaucer--were rarely recorded.
So why set them in a group? At first glance it might seem pointless, but Pilgrim Chaucer is made a member of this clique. That is surely a signal to gain our attention. These characters must have some sort of affinity with one another and some sort of relationship with the author/pilgrim.
I'd worked with the five for quite a while, first this one, then that one, when a recognizable traditional influence came into focus for each! The five did portray pilgrims and signs of the zodiac--but now, clearly, each had a third role to play. These were not incidental associates. The poet had reserved this handful to construct the ultimate image of his own pilgrimage. That answers the first challenge.
We will deal separately with the members of his clique, to illustrate what it is that connects each one to the others and to Chaucer's pilgrimage--his life. Our search will acquaint us with Scorpio, Taurus, Aquarius, Pisces, and Libra.
We'll begin next time with Libra, the Manciple because its significance will be obvious after very little evidence.
Monday, December 9, 2013
ARE YOU NEAR LOS ANGELES ?
I'll be giving a talk about Chaucer's scheme hidden in the Canterbury Tales.
It's this coming Saturday!
WHERE-- La Verne Public Library
3640 D Street (at Foothill Blvd.)
La Verne, CA 91750
DATE--Saturday, December 14, 2013
TIME--2 p.m.
MORE INFO--909--596-1934
Hope to see you there.
It's this coming Saturday!
WHERE-- La Verne Public Library
3640 D Street (at Foothill Blvd.)
La Verne, CA 91750
DATE--Saturday, December 14, 2013
TIME--2 p.m.
MORE INFO--909--596-1934
Hope to see you there.
Friday, November 29, 2013
Two for one: Gemini
Let's return to seeing how Chaucer demonstrates the celestial identity of each pilgrim. Evidence for the Parson and Plowman is fool-proof. They are the only pair of brothers; they must be Gemini. Chaucer sets up situations to draw images from their myth, and their constellations.
Gemini, the two mythical brothers--Castor and Pollux--were sons of Leda. Leda's husband, Tyndareous, was the father of Castor. Zeus, in one of his numerous seductions, fathered Pollux. Having a god as his father meant immortality for Pollux, while Castor was a mere mortal. Chaucer indicates the difference between godly and human status by naming them a parson (a man of God) and a plowman (assuredly a man of the earth).
Human Castor trained horses. When Chaucer introduces the Plowman, he associates him with horses. The pilgrim transports manure.
Godly Pollux became a boxer. The poet tells of Pollux sowing seed, as in the gospel. Sowing of the seed, however, comes not from his hand, but from the pugilist Pollux's fist!
The Gemini were usually illustrated seated on horseback, spear in hand, wearing short, sleeveless garments. Chaucer's brief glimpse of the pilgrim brothers has the Parson holding a (spear-like) staff, while the Plowman's garb, a simple tabard, is noted as he sits astride a horse. So much for the myth.
Now for what the constellation contributes to their identification. Castor and Pollux are two rows of stars, which are almost straight parallel lines. Single stars--"Castor" and "Pollux"--indicate the head of each figure. The star Alhena marks the feet of Pollux and is golden. The ancient astronomer Ptolemy, however, called Alhena "red." To convey the oddity of something being golden and red, the poet observes
If gold rusts, what shall iron do?
As the constellations rise, Castor is seen first; Pollux is four degrees southeast of Castor and ascends ten minutes later. Chaucer refers to Castor's later rising when the Parson (Castor) says,
Trust well, I am a Southern man
His stars are south of his brother's.
In the Prologue to the Parson's Tale, the very last Tale, the sun is almost down, yet the Host takes time for one-sided chatter about the Parson. In quick succession he asks,
Art thou a vicar? Or a parson (person)?
Then the Parson is asked to open what he carries with him. The Host coaxes,
Unbokele, and shewe us what is in thy male.
"Male" can indicate a pouch, but it also means a man, or masculinity. The Parson is asked to reveal what he contains; what he is made of. Though the chatter seems pointless, it directs attention to the substance of the Parson. It is the poet's way of indicating that both Gemini are bound up in the Parson.
From the two pilgrim brothers comes only one story. The Plowman (like the Cook's Guildsmen) is never spoken to or about. He never utters a word, nor does he participate in any of the activities of the journey. His presence only completes the dual image for Gemini.
Our next topic will be Chaucer's clique. It will cover several entries and provide a number of challenges.
Gemini, the two mythical brothers--Castor and Pollux--were sons of Leda. Leda's husband, Tyndareous, was the father of Castor. Zeus, in one of his numerous seductions, fathered Pollux. Having a god as his father meant immortality for Pollux, while Castor was a mere mortal. Chaucer indicates the difference between godly and human status by naming them a parson (a man of God) and a plowman (assuredly a man of the earth).
Human Castor trained horses. When Chaucer introduces the Plowman, he associates him with horses. The pilgrim transports manure.
Godly Pollux became a boxer. The poet tells of Pollux sowing seed, as in the gospel. Sowing of the seed, however, comes not from his hand, but from the pugilist Pollux's fist!
The Gemini were usually illustrated seated on horseback, spear in hand, wearing short, sleeveless garments. Chaucer's brief glimpse of the pilgrim brothers has the Parson holding a (spear-like) staff, while the Plowman's garb, a simple tabard, is noted as he sits astride a horse. So much for the myth.
Now for what the constellation contributes to their identification. Castor and Pollux are two rows of stars, which are almost straight parallel lines. Single stars--"Castor" and "Pollux"--indicate the head of each figure. The star Alhena marks the feet of Pollux and is golden. The ancient astronomer Ptolemy, however, called Alhena "red." To convey the oddity of something being golden and red, the poet observes
If gold rusts, what shall iron do?
As the constellations rise, Castor is seen first; Pollux is four degrees southeast of Castor and ascends ten minutes later. Chaucer refers to Castor's later rising when the Parson (Castor) says,
Trust well, I am a Southern man
His stars are south of his brother's.
In the Prologue to the Parson's Tale, the very last Tale, the sun is almost down, yet the Host takes time for one-sided chatter about the Parson. In quick succession he asks,
Art thou a vicar? Or a parson (person)?
Then the Parson is asked to open what he carries with him. The Host coaxes,
Unbokele, and shewe us what is in thy male.
"Male" can indicate a pouch, but it also means a man, or masculinity. The Parson is asked to reveal what he contains; what he is made of. Though the chatter seems pointless, it directs attention to the substance of the Parson. It is the poet's way of indicating that both Gemini are bound up in the Parson.
From the two pilgrim brothers comes only one story. The Plowman (like the Cook's Guildsmen) is never spoken to or about. He never utters a word, nor does he participate in any of the activities of the journey. His presence only completes the dual image for Gemini.
Our next topic will be Chaucer's clique. It will cover several entries and provide a number of challenges.
Saturday, November 16, 2013
I've been busy
Took some time out to write a proposal for a conference. Sent it off a couple of days ago. Here's hoping it's chosen.
Next let's talk about the Parson and his brother the Plowman. If you've looked at the entries called "Written in the Stars" (April 2012), you know these two pilgrims are the zodiac sign of Gemini. Now we'll see how Chaucer's details in the descriptions of the pair indicate their individual mythological identities and how the stars in the constellation provide the confirmation.
Next let's talk about the Parson and his brother the Plowman. If you've looked at the entries called "Written in the Stars" (April 2012), you know these two pilgrims are the zodiac sign of Gemini. Now we'll see how Chaucer's details in the descriptions of the pair indicate their individual mythological identities and how the stars in the constellation provide the confirmation.
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