What
After drawing lots to tell the first story, the Knight wins and proceeds. Its important to note that this, like a lot of medieval stories dealing with the Classical world, is full of anachronisms, such as ancient “Athenians” dressing up like knights and jousting. Hardcore historians, as one of you, I’m letting you know in advance to just let it go.
Why
It’s the first actual tale of the Canterbury Tales. Its also very long, rather boring, and usually a cause for people to give up on the Tales. This hasn’t stopped it from influencing other writers, such as John Dryden to rewrite it (and actually lengthen it) for a contemporary audience, or Shakespeare to co-write a play based on it. The best sports movie about competitive jousting is connected with a very thin thread to it and is named the same thing. Its fun. Check it out. Chaucer’s a character in it. Chaucer himself cribbed the story off Boccaccio’s Decameron.
The (Spoiler Free) Basics
In Ancient Athens, King Theseus imprisons two knights for decades, they both fall in love with a woman they can only see from their tiny window way up high, and when both are finally out of prison, they proceed to fight over her hand on the field of honor. It’s a typical plot for Courtly Romance.
From here on there be spoilers….
The Knight’s Tale Part 1
Once upon a time, long ago in ancient Athens, there ruled Theseus, manly conqueror and beater of ass. He was so manly and heroic that he conquered the Amazons and married their queen Ypolita. He brought his bride and her younger sister Emelye back to Athens. The narrator (the Knight) says that he’s glossing over how Theseus got where he is because the story’s long enough without it. Which to me, is a warning flag. You’d think the Knight, a trained fighting man, would have lots of cool stories about violence to tell. I mean, he’s been trained since childhood to love the stuff. It’s exciting stuff that audiences love. Why’s he skipping it?
Anyway, on the ride back to Athens, Theseus sees a couple women dressed in mourning black robes and wailing. They don’t stop wailing until they grab his reigns (which tells me that he just wanted to ride past them because there was drinking and swyving to do). He asks them why they’re crying and disrupting his party (seriously) and if there’s anything that can be done about it.
The eldest woman (the widow of the former ruler of Thebes) tells him that they’re all widows of husbands killed in the siege of Thebes and that lord of that city, Creon, has dishonored the dead by forbidding them from being given proper burial, instead piling them up outside the city for the dogs to eat (because he’s a tyrant and that’s what tyrants do.) The women wail some more.
Theseus jumps down off his horse and swears that he shall make Creon pay for his evil and sends Ypolita and Emelye into Athens. The swyving can wait, there’s asses to be beaten, and Theseus unfurls his banner and rides for Thebes.
With a few mentions of past glories, such as slaying the Minotaur on Crete, Theseus reaches Thebes, there’s a battle and he stabs Creon so hard that he explodes in a rainbow of blood. Not really, but the battle is started and won in a few lines, I figured I’d add some color to it (get it? Creon? Color? Ehhhhhh…). He proudly gives the widows back the stinking corpses of the dead so that they can bury them (instead of doing it himself, I feel I should point out). How…considerate of him.
The victorious Athenians heroically loot the corpses of the dead. But wait, among the bodies are two grievously wounded knights, Arcite and Palamon, cousins, and are recognized from their heraldry as rather important Theban nobility. They are taken to Theseus, who has them sent to Athens in chains, heroically refusing to even consider ransoming them.
His job done, Theseus rides home to Athens, leaving Thebes in the control of…um, the helpless, wailing widows? Who have their hands full burying the dead? Its not like Thebes has an army anymore to defend itself. Theseus is a dick, though to be fair, he probably wants to get back home and swyve his hot Amazonian wife.
The army goes back to Athens. Theseus rides in all triumphant-like and Arcite & Palamon are thrown into a tower forever. Its more fun when you say it like that kid from the Sandlot. How long? FOUR-EH-VER!
Years pass. The two knights, who Theseus repeatedly refuses to ransom because he’s a dick, are still in the tower. Seriously, ransoming valuable prisoners was a pretty common occurrence back in the day and Theseus could make some pretty nice cash in the process. Why he doesn’t aside from “I don’t wanna,” isn’t a particularly merciful thing to do. And its not like he’s being courteous and kind to them either. They’re locked up in a tower for X number of years. If he was really polite, he’d let them go without ransoming them. You know what, this is now a drinking game. Every time Theseus acts like a dick in this tale, take a shot. There’s one for this, then one for trying to ignore the wailing women, one for not burying the dead for the women, one for leaving the women defenseless, and one for imprisoning Palamon & Arcite FOUR-EH-VER! So that’s five so far.
So years pass and one May, Emelye, who is a hot blonde with a broad forehead (Chaucer knew what got his audiences hot), is walking around the courtyard picking flowers and singing little songs. Palamon has been given the luxury of being allowed to walk around in a higher chamber with a nice view of the city/ How…generous of Theseus. “Look, I know I’ve been keeping you here as a prisoner for years and refusing to ransom you guys even though you’re worth a lot of money, so I’m going to do you the honor of letting you in another room where you can get a good look at my awesome city that you can’t walk around in.” Take a shot.
Anyway, Palamon sees Emelye and falls in love immediately. Now, he’s at a high enough vantage that he can see the whole city, so he probably doesn’t see a whole lot of details of the girl other than the blonde hair. However, I’ll probably let him have this one because she’s probably the first woman he’s seen in years. He sighs and swoons, and Arcite asks him what’s wrong. Palamon says its not their imprisonment that hurts him so, but a woman as beautiful as Venus. So now Palamon wants Arcite’s help to bust out of their prison, and asks the heavens to show compassion on their noble lineage, brought low by tyranny. I’d say that qualifies as a shot.
Arcite looks out the window and the same thing happens to him; swooning and sighing. This leads to the sexual frustration of X years in jail and an argument between the cousins over who loves the fair maiden more. They argue like the two guys from Waiting For Godot before patching things up because they realize that neither of them can leave their prison anyway, so what’s the point in arguing? Unless of course, they’re bored out of their skulls.
One day, a certain Duke Perotheus arrives at Athens. He’s a friend of Theseus and Arcite, and is able to convince Theseus to let Arcite go without ransom. However, this being Theseus, he can’t just let him go on his merry way. He forbids Arcite to ever return to Athens or anywhere else that Theseus rules over (presumably the Amazons, too) on pain of death. For no reason. It doesn’t seem to be because he knows about Arcite & Palamon’s feelings for Emelye. He just makes up the condition. Take a shot. Arcite agrees that it’s a fair deal (never mind that Palamon, his cousin and oath brother, is still in the tower). Drinking addendum: Take a shot any time Palamon and/or Arcite do something glaringly stupid. Like right now.
So Arcite leaves the city and starts wailing and whining, because he’s still in love with Emelye. He curses his birth, his life, and his friend Perotheus for arranging his freedom. Arcite would rather be in prison and peeping down at Emelye in the garden. Take a shot. He goes on like this for a while.
Palamon, back in the tower, is ALSO wailing and gnashing his teeth, because Arcite is free and Palamon fears he’ll lay siege to Athens so he can conquer Theseus and take Emelye for himself. Which isn’t a bad idea, actually, if not for the fact that Arcite is a blockhead. The cousins lament and whine for a long time, at least a year.
The Knight breaks the narrative to ask the audience (the pilgrims, presumably) which lover has the worse situation, Palamon or Arcite? I’m going to go with Palamon, because he at least has the right idea and can’t do anything about it: Besiege the city, storm it, stab the jerkass Theseus and take Emelye (and potentially rescue the imprisoned cousin). Ok, maybe its not really the best way to introduce yourself to a woman you’ve been ogling out of a tenth story window, but it sure would be exciting. Arcite seems to be the dumb one of the two. Also, Chaucer himself was a POW for a little while before being ransomed, so I’m going to reinforce my vote for Palamon.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Geoffrey Chaucer - The Canterbury Tales
The General Prologue
What: The best known work written in Middle English and arguably the greatest showcase of all 3 social classes in Medieval England and a wide variety of story genres. Chaucer may have been showing off a little, but damn if he wasn’t good at what he did. Written throughout the course of his lifetime and unfinished at his death in 1400, it is the secular cultural high water mark of Medieval English literature. Yeah, its significant.
Why: Because something as important to English Literature is also something almost universally hated by High School English students for being damn long and the words look funny (it is, after all, written in Middle English). Also, I’m currently reading it for a graduate class, so I might as well make the most of it. Students should consider themselves lucky, since there are only 22 tales instead of the planned 124. (these are the same people who sigh in relief knowing that The Faerie Queene could’ve been longer too).
The (Spoiler Free) Basics: A large contingent of pilgrims set out from London to Canterbury in springtime and swap stories along the way. The stories range from pious morality tales to bawdy stories involving loud farting and kissing arse cheeks. And there’s a talking rooster in there too.
From here on there be spoilers….
General Prologue: Here Bygynneth The Book of the Tales of Caunterbury
Its Springtime in Soggy Ol’ England, when April showers usher in warm weather, sunshine and pilgrimage season. Canterbury, the place of St. Thomas a Becket’s martyrdom is the English site of choice to visit (since its much more convenient and safer than traveling to Jerusalem) and the roads are full of pilgrims.
The narrator, whom I’ll call “Chaucer” to differentiate from the actual Chaucer, stops off on his trip at the Tabard Inn in Southwerk, itching to get his pilgrimage on. At night, there are 29 fellow pilgrims there from all walks of life, and “Chaucer” being a thorough fellow, meets them all.
The Knyght (Knight) is described as a worthy fighting man, one who’s crusaded all over Europe in places like Egypt, Prussia, Russia, Spain, Asia Minor and so on. For all his credentials, he’s surprisingly modestly dressed for a knight, either a sign of his humility or illegitimate “knightly” status (depending on who’s theories you prefer).
The Squier (Squire) is the Knight’s son, a young man of 20 who dresses smart, can sing pretty well, and likes the ladies. A lot. He’s a dandy, but he’s also trained in war, having followed the Knight on his journeys.
The Yeman (Yeoman) is next, attendant to the Knight & Squire. A heavily armed professional soldier wearing green and carrying a bow, he’s also a forester and doesn’t seem to talk much. He’s likely a veteran Longbowman, commoners trained to shoot arrows with a high degree of skill in England (in contrast to continental bowmen who were considered crap troops, unlike continental crossbowmen, who were rather desirable in warfare. History rant over).
The Prioresse (Prioress) a friendly nun named Eglentyne. She’s from noble stock, likes dainty things, speaks French (but not Proper Parisian French), is concerned with manners and is very kind to her dogs. She’s much more a noblewoman than a nun, and her portrayal is subtle and complex. With her is another Nun, a Chaplain and 3 Priests.
The Monk, a “manly man” who liked riding, hunting and the manly arts more common in the upper classes. Also a big fan of eating. Its hinted that he’s not as chaste as he should be either. It seems he likes all of these things better than actually being in his cloister and doing monkly things. In fact, he’s not all that interested in following the Rule of St. Benedict, thinking that there’s not enough time set aside for hunting in it. Also, he owns his own hunting gear and wears fur-lined robes and wears supple leather boots, all of which he can’t own according to the Rule.
Hubert the Frere (Friar) a traveling mendicant who abuses his station, heard frequent confessions (more than a priest would normally hear), handed out easy penances in exchange for bribes and seduced countless women. He could sing bawdy ballads, frequented taverns and spoke with a slight lisp. Very clearly not a role model.
The Marchant (Merchant) has a forked beard, brightly dressed and sitting high on his horse. He’s all about looking rich and important, speaking loftily and generally being nuveau riche. He knows how to turn a tidy profit, which is technically illegal.
The Clerk of Oxenford (Oxford) is a university student working on his Masters, shabby and starving, just like his horse, he used his words carefully and had a fixation on his books. There’s a pun on Philosophy/alchemy in there about not being able to make any gold (ie., he’s poor)
The Sergeant Of The Lawe (Law), a legal counselor equivalent to a lawyer. He’s not as busy as he seems, knows the law in and out, and its hinted that he uses this knowledge to his financial advantage in legal matters.
With him is a Frankeleyn (Franklin), a sanguinary, epicurean landowner. He liked a good meal and would point it out on the cook if his sauces weren’t prepared right. An important man in his home community.
A couple working men; Haberdasshere (Haberdasher), Carpenter, Webbe (Weaver), Dyere (Dyer), and Tapycer (Tapestry-maker). All are clad in solemn clothes of some fraternity or guild. They’re not particularly interesting or important, but they have a servant with them that is.
The Cook is apparently a kitchen wizard and is quite skilled. A shame that he has a sore on his leg that had pus the same color as a blancmange, the implications of which are…unpleasant to think about.
The Shipman (Sailor) from Dertemouthe, a rough-and-tumble fellow armed with a dagger, heavily tanned and apparently something of an asshole. Stole some drinks from the cargo hold while on duty a couple times. A dangerous fellow who’s a dirty fighter and had blood on his hands (he’s drowned people he’s fought at sea instead of taking them prisoner), but also prudent in what he did. His ship was the Magdalen.
The Doctour of Phisik (Doctor of Physic), a skilled physician also obsessed with wacky old-age astrology. Well, a little more so than his peers would’ve been. Astrology was a legitimate part of science in those days (sort of like how alchemy and chemistry were joined at the hip for a long time).
The Wif of Bathe (Wife Of Bath), a middle-aged, partly deaf, well-to-do middle class woman who’s a pretty good seamstress to boot. Cheerful, lusty, redheaded, had pilgrimaged thrice to Jerusalem and has been married five times. Think “Medieval Lucille Ball” and work from there.
The Persoun of a Toun (Town Parson) is a modest, kindly, simple parish priest. Learned, but humble, he’s a good man and a good priest concerned with his parish and doesn’t like having people excommunicated.
The Plowman is the Parson’s brother (actually or spiritually), another good, simple, honest man.
The Miller is a big, bearded, boisterous fellow who likes crude jokes and has a short temper, is armed with a sword and buckler and has a fugly wart on his nose. He carried a set of bagpipes around and played them as the troupe left town. He’s rough, loud, annoying and highly entertaining.
The Maunciple (Manciple) is a servant of a law inn (legal firm, for lack of a better term). A shrewd buyer who knew how to buy low and sell high, which worked out well for him, since he worked for 30 lawyers. He is clearly smarter than all 30 of them.
The Reve (Reeve) is a choleric man, ill-tempered and a former carpenter. He’s an estate manager for a lord who’s done well (both for the lord and himself). The servants under him hate and fear him. He used to be a carpenter and is from “Northfolk” (Norfolk).
The Somonour (Summoner) is a disgusting human being. Lecherous, narrow-eyed, red faced and ugly enough to make children cry. Stinks of garlic, onions & leeks. A minor church official who’s job it was to summon people to ecclesiastical courts. He’s a slimy jerkass.
The Pardoner, his friend, is equally unsavory. A corrupt Church official who sells indulgences, though apparently not authorized to do so. He’s thin, perpetually beardless and straw-haired, but apparently somewhat handsome. He carries around a shop’s worth of phony relics that are good for scamming innocent, hardworking people.
“Chaucer” then apologizes for any inconsistencies or errors (and for anything that might be ‘improper’) before talking about the Hoost (Host), the boisterously cheerful innkeeper, likely played by Brian Blessed or John Rhys-Davies. The host urges everyone to pass the time on the ride to Canterbury telling stories, because he proposes a contest that whoever tells the best story on the way there and back will get a free meal on him. He also swears to ride with them to Canterbury at his own expense as a guide, since he wants to hear them himself. The next morning, everybody rides out and the Knight wins the lottery to go first.
Impressions: Probably the part of the Tales most familiar to general audiences, Chaucer is playing around with social archetypes, poking and prodding in various places and in other playing the types pretty straight. They’re great medieval archetype portraits, and Geoff himself probably met representatives from all of those professions through the course of his various government positions. He’s subtly showing off how much he knows. Still, this is all only part of the framing device, and Chaucer uses it to show off a little.
What: The best known work written in Middle English and arguably the greatest showcase of all 3 social classes in Medieval England and a wide variety of story genres. Chaucer may have been showing off a little, but damn if he wasn’t good at what he did. Written throughout the course of his lifetime and unfinished at his death in 1400, it is the secular cultural high water mark of Medieval English literature. Yeah, its significant.
Why: Because something as important to English Literature is also something almost universally hated by High School English students for being damn long and the words look funny (it is, after all, written in Middle English). Also, I’m currently reading it for a graduate class, so I might as well make the most of it. Students should consider themselves lucky, since there are only 22 tales instead of the planned 124. (these are the same people who sigh in relief knowing that The Faerie Queene could’ve been longer too).
The (Spoiler Free) Basics: A large contingent of pilgrims set out from London to Canterbury in springtime and swap stories along the way. The stories range from pious morality tales to bawdy stories involving loud farting and kissing arse cheeks. And there’s a talking rooster in there too.
From here on there be spoilers….
General Prologue: Here Bygynneth The Book of the Tales of Caunterbury
Its Springtime in Soggy Ol’ England, when April showers usher in warm weather, sunshine and pilgrimage season. Canterbury, the place of St. Thomas a Becket’s martyrdom is the English site of choice to visit (since its much more convenient and safer than traveling to Jerusalem) and the roads are full of pilgrims.
The narrator, whom I’ll call “Chaucer” to differentiate from the actual Chaucer, stops off on his trip at the Tabard Inn in Southwerk, itching to get his pilgrimage on. At night, there are 29 fellow pilgrims there from all walks of life, and “Chaucer” being a thorough fellow, meets them all.
The Knyght (Knight) is described as a worthy fighting man, one who’s crusaded all over Europe in places like Egypt, Prussia, Russia, Spain, Asia Minor and so on. For all his credentials, he’s surprisingly modestly dressed for a knight, either a sign of his humility or illegitimate “knightly” status (depending on who’s theories you prefer).
The Squier (Squire) is the Knight’s son, a young man of 20 who dresses smart, can sing pretty well, and likes the ladies. A lot. He’s a dandy, but he’s also trained in war, having followed the Knight on his journeys.
The Yeman (Yeoman) is next, attendant to the Knight & Squire. A heavily armed professional soldier wearing green and carrying a bow, he’s also a forester and doesn’t seem to talk much. He’s likely a veteran Longbowman, commoners trained to shoot arrows with a high degree of skill in England (in contrast to continental bowmen who were considered crap troops, unlike continental crossbowmen, who were rather desirable in warfare. History rant over).
The Prioresse (Prioress) a friendly nun named Eglentyne. She’s from noble stock, likes dainty things, speaks French (but not Proper Parisian French), is concerned with manners and is very kind to her dogs. She’s much more a noblewoman than a nun, and her portrayal is subtle and complex. With her is another Nun, a Chaplain and 3 Priests.
The Monk, a “manly man” who liked riding, hunting and the manly arts more common in the upper classes. Also a big fan of eating. Its hinted that he’s not as chaste as he should be either. It seems he likes all of these things better than actually being in his cloister and doing monkly things. In fact, he’s not all that interested in following the Rule of St. Benedict, thinking that there’s not enough time set aside for hunting in it. Also, he owns his own hunting gear and wears fur-lined robes and wears supple leather boots, all of which he can’t own according to the Rule.
Hubert the Frere (Friar) a traveling mendicant who abuses his station, heard frequent confessions (more than a priest would normally hear), handed out easy penances in exchange for bribes and seduced countless women. He could sing bawdy ballads, frequented taverns and spoke with a slight lisp. Very clearly not a role model.
The Marchant (Merchant) has a forked beard, brightly dressed and sitting high on his horse. He’s all about looking rich and important, speaking loftily and generally being nuveau riche. He knows how to turn a tidy profit, which is technically illegal.
The Clerk of Oxenford (Oxford) is a university student working on his Masters, shabby and starving, just like his horse, he used his words carefully and had a fixation on his books. There’s a pun on Philosophy/alchemy in there about not being able to make any gold (ie., he’s poor)
The Sergeant Of The Lawe (Law), a legal counselor equivalent to a lawyer. He’s not as busy as he seems, knows the law in and out, and its hinted that he uses this knowledge to his financial advantage in legal matters.
With him is a Frankeleyn (Franklin), a sanguinary, epicurean landowner. He liked a good meal and would point it out on the cook if his sauces weren’t prepared right. An important man in his home community.
A couple working men; Haberdasshere (Haberdasher), Carpenter, Webbe (Weaver), Dyere (Dyer), and Tapycer (Tapestry-maker). All are clad in solemn clothes of some fraternity or guild. They’re not particularly interesting or important, but they have a servant with them that is.
The Cook is apparently a kitchen wizard and is quite skilled. A shame that he has a sore on his leg that had pus the same color as a blancmange, the implications of which are…unpleasant to think about.
The Shipman (Sailor) from Dertemouthe, a rough-and-tumble fellow armed with a dagger, heavily tanned and apparently something of an asshole. Stole some drinks from the cargo hold while on duty a couple times. A dangerous fellow who’s a dirty fighter and had blood on his hands (he’s drowned people he’s fought at sea instead of taking them prisoner), but also prudent in what he did. His ship was the Magdalen.
The Doctour of Phisik (Doctor of Physic), a skilled physician also obsessed with wacky old-age astrology. Well, a little more so than his peers would’ve been. Astrology was a legitimate part of science in those days (sort of like how alchemy and chemistry were joined at the hip for a long time).
The Wif of Bathe (Wife Of Bath), a middle-aged, partly deaf, well-to-do middle class woman who’s a pretty good seamstress to boot. Cheerful, lusty, redheaded, had pilgrimaged thrice to Jerusalem and has been married five times. Think “Medieval Lucille Ball” and work from there.
The Persoun of a Toun (Town Parson) is a modest, kindly, simple parish priest. Learned, but humble, he’s a good man and a good priest concerned with his parish and doesn’t like having people excommunicated.
The Plowman is the Parson’s brother (actually or spiritually), another good, simple, honest man.
The Miller is a big, bearded, boisterous fellow who likes crude jokes and has a short temper, is armed with a sword and buckler and has a fugly wart on his nose. He carried a set of bagpipes around and played them as the troupe left town. He’s rough, loud, annoying and highly entertaining.
The Maunciple (Manciple) is a servant of a law inn (legal firm, for lack of a better term). A shrewd buyer who knew how to buy low and sell high, which worked out well for him, since he worked for 30 lawyers. He is clearly smarter than all 30 of them.
The Reve (Reeve) is a choleric man, ill-tempered and a former carpenter. He’s an estate manager for a lord who’s done well (both for the lord and himself). The servants under him hate and fear him. He used to be a carpenter and is from “Northfolk” (Norfolk).
The Somonour (Summoner) is a disgusting human being. Lecherous, narrow-eyed, red faced and ugly enough to make children cry. Stinks of garlic, onions & leeks. A minor church official who’s job it was to summon people to ecclesiastical courts. He’s a slimy jerkass.
The Pardoner, his friend, is equally unsavory. A corrupt Church official who sells indulgences, though apparently not authorized to do so. He’s thin, perpetually beardless and straw-haired, but apparently somewhat handsome. He carries around a shop’s worth of phony relics that are good for scamming innocent, hardworking people.
“Chaucer” then apologizes for any inconsistencies or errors (and for anything that might be ‘improper’) before talking about the Hoost (Host), the boisterously cheerful innkeeper, likely played by Brian Blessed or John Rhys-Davies. The host urges everyone to pass the time on the ride to Canterbury telling stories, because he proposes a contest that whoever tells the best story on the way there and back will get a free meal on him. He also swears to ride with them to Canterbury at his own expense as a guide, since he wants to hear them himself. The next morning, everybody rides out and the Knight wins the lottery to go first.
Impressions: Probably the part of the Tales most familiar to general audiences, Chaucer is playing around with social archetypes, poking and prodding in various places and in other playing the types pretty straight. They’re great medieval archetype portraits, and Geoff himself probably met representatives from all of those professions through the course of his various government positions. He’s subtly showing off how much he knows. Still, this is all only part of the framing device, and Chaucer uses it to show off a little.
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