Friday, Sept. 4, 1978:

One pretty, brash, young blonde accosted a friend and me in the hall today and asked why I wore a sport coat, a practice which she, in her tight jeans, considered “weird.”  It set me to thinking about the various ways in which people dress; how at first the clothes we choose to wear are based on our personalities, until we reach that point in our lives where our personalities find themselves, in turn, influenced by the clothes we wear.  On the stage the first thing we notice about the character is the costume he or she has on.  It is both the key to an individual’s personality and one of the deciding factors in his or her personality growth.  It influences, subliminally yet strongly, the way we feel and think about someone we see, whether we know them or not, regardless of how unusual or commonplace their clothing may be.

This being the case, and all things being unequal, how would we react to the following:

A man (woman?) comes to class in ordinary, relatively casual, clothes on Monday.

On Tuesday he shows up in a sport coat; still casual but a cut above jeans and t-shirts.

On Wednesday he comes in in (sic) a three piece suit, replete with handkerchief matching his tie.

On Thursday he shows up in evening clothes:  black-tie tuxedo, etc.

On Friday he comes in wearing the famous “white tie and tails” of the musical director or theater-goer.

Following Monday (sic) he appears in full-dress general’s uniform, with medals and ribbons and about twelve pounds of brass on his lapels and shoulders.

On Tuesday he comes in as, yes, God Almighty Himself, wearing a long, flowing white robe, a glowing, glaring halo; heralded by archangels blaring trumpets and clouds of fog and mist swirling  at his feet.

On Wednesday, of course, he shows up in his underwear.

 

Late Spring, 1990 (?):

Some Critiques of Essays on the Canterbury Tales

I

In his essay on The Prioress’ Tale, Richard Schoeck provides an examination of the attitudes towards Jews and Judeo-Christian relations during the Middle Ages as embodied in Chaucer’s poem.  Schoeck evaluates these attitudes both in terms of the prevailing social outlook of the Middle Ages and in relation to the character of the Prioress in an attempt to reconcile the person of the “simple and coy” nun (General Prologue, Line 119) with the crudely anti-Semitic tale she tells.

Chaucer describes the Prioress in decidedly secular terms:  “Her nose attractive…her mouth…soft and red”  (GP, Lines 152-53).  Her manners are the affected variety of court, rather than of the convent, and have a slightly strained quality.  Moreover, hanging from her rosary is the brooch with the highly ambiguous Latin motto Amor Vincit Omnia — originally a somewhat profane motto in the early Middle Ages.  Is it earthly love that conquers all, or heavenly love?  If we accept that a very beautiful and somewhat worldly prioress is something of an oxymoron, the ironic message of the brooch actually seems almost appropriate to the character.

These traits make the horrifying aspects of implied ritual murder in her tail stand out all the more clearly.  That “She would weep; if only she saw a mouse/ Caught in a trap” (GP, Lines 144-45) is beside the point;  that she can do so and still be apparently unmoved by the sufferings of a persecuted minority lends her a certain warped quality which dominates her narrative.  For her, justice takes the form of a pogrom, and the murder of the young Christian child is linked to the apochryphal legend of the “ritual murder” of young Hugh of Lincoln, already the subject of a popular ballad in Chaucer’s time.

Schoeck’s analysis provides an interesting glimpse into Chaucer’s own largely-unexplored attitude toward prejudice.  While he admits that Chaucer “…could scarcely have questioned the laws and social forces that had excluded the medieval Jew from Christian society,” Schoeck believes Chaucer’s treatment of the Prioress is a clear-eyed recognition of the inhumanity of her tale.

II

“Irony in Chaucer’s work has been recognized from the beginning.”  So asserts Vance Ramsey in his treatise “Modes of Irony in The Canterbury Tales.”  Ramsey sees this irony as being the interaction of supernatural and natural forces involving a double audience:  one audience in the know; the other in the dark.

Ramsey touches on four specific types of irony.  The first of these, verbal irony, encompasses nearly every verbal surprise, from puns to intricate rhetoric.  The use of religious references for ironic purposes in The Miller’s Tale is only one example of this type of irony.  Irony of manner refers to the ironic manner in which a character is presented to us.  Perhaps the best example of this is Chaucer’s description of the Prioress in the General Prologue.  The third type of irony, irony of structure, deals with the ironic juxtaposition of most of the tales, i.e, the earthy Miller’s Tale coming immediately after the epic Knight’s Tale.  The last type of irony Ramsey mentions, dramatic irony, results from the contrast between the words or deeds of a given character and what is actually occurring in the tale.  Absolon’s words of courtship to Alison just before his unhappy attempt at a kiss in The Miller’s Tale is a humorous example of this type.

By analyzing and clarifying the various modes of irony in The Canterbury Tales, Ramsey provides an important key to understanding Chaucer’s intentions in organizing the tales as he did.

III

In his essay “Characterization in The Miller’s Tale,” Paul Beichner compare’s the characters of Absolon, Nicholas, and Alison.  Absolon’s character is examined in relation to his role as the unwelcome suitor and his effect (or lack of same) on the bucolic, earthy Alison.  Nicholas’ character, in turn, is illuminated by way of contrast with Absolon, his would-be rival.

Absolon, Beichner asserts, is not only a boring lover in Alison’s eyes; he is an effeminate milquetoast, more ladylike than Alison.  Too ladylike, in fact, wherein lies much of the humor of his downfall.  Beichner even compares him to the Absolem of the Old Testament, “the most beautiful man in Israel.”  By contrast, Nicholas is the clever clerk, the sly lover whose more direct, lusty approach to the pretty carpenter’s wife meets with considerably more success than the too-courtly Absolon.  His initial victory over the ineffectual Absolon leads to a feeling of overweaning smugness, setting him up for the branding he receives at Absolon’s hands.

In comparing and contrasting the more prominent characteristics of Alison’s suitors, Beichner enables us to better appreciate Chaucer’s skill in weaving a richly funny story from seemingly simple threads.

IV

In his book Chaucer:  His Life, His Works, His World, Donald Howard examines the broad structure of The Canterbury Tales.  Chaucer worked on the Tales for some fourteen years, according to Howard, his labors falling into three phases.

The first of these phases saw the creation of the General Prologue, The Knight’s Tale, and the three “fabliaux:”  The Miller’s, Reeve’s and Cook’s tales.  This phase is marked by a certain obvious artistry, as when the Knight indulges in occasional flowery rhetoric in his description of the altars to the various gods mentioned in his tale.

The next phase is dominated by the “discussion of marriage,’ and probably came after a period of mourning in the poet’s life.  The Wife of Bath’s Tale sparks an irritated response from the otherwise retiring, peaceable Clerk.  It was apparently during this phase that Chaucer finally gave up any idea he may have had about marrying again after the passing of his wife.

The last phase brought the addition of eight “unlinked” tales, tales with no visible link to one another, and even left a few pilgrims (The Knight’s Yeoman, The Host) without a tale.  By this time Chaucer’s overriding concern seemed to be with bringing the pilgrimage to an end.  Howard speculates that the poet must have finished the Parson’s treatise on penitence, and perhaps added the final touches to The Pardoner’s Tale, as well.

Howard’s overview of Chaucer’s plan for the Tales, while not as detailed as it could be, is at least readily digestible, and gives us a tantalizing hint at the workings of the poet’s mind at the time of the Tales’ creation.

WORKS CITED

Beichner, Paul E.  “Characterization in The Miller’s Tale.”  In Chaucer Criticism:  The Canterbury Tales.  Ed. Richard Schoeck and Jerome Taylor.  Notre Dame, Ind.:    Notre Dame Press, 1960.

Howard, Donald R.  Chaucer:  His Life, His Works, His World.  New York.  Dutton, 1987.

Ramsey, Vance.  “Modes of Irony in The Canterbury Tales.”  In Companion to Chaucer Studies.  Ed. Beryl Rowland.  Toronto:  Oxford University Press, 1968.

Schoeck, Richard J.  “Chaucer’s Prioress:  Mercy and Tender Heart.”  In Chaucer Criticism:  The Canterbury Tales.  Ed. Richard Schoeck and Jerome Taylor.  Notre Dame, Ind.:  Notre dame Press, 1960.

3-20-18                                                                                                                                                       A poem from 2002:

On The Arrival of St. Martin’s Summer

 

Leaves, latent                                                                                                                                           In the stillness of mossed branches                                                                                                    Chunks of bark                                                                                                                                        Lay in strident layers in the grass                                                                                                       In the shadows of tree trunks

Birds, rampant                                                                                                                                        On the vastness of steel skies                                                                                                               Wield their wings                                                                                                                                   Dive and roll below the hidden stars                                                                                                 Over the valley of tree trunks

I, patient                                                                                                                                                    For the mildness of autumn                                                                                                                 Bide my time                                                                                                                                            Stroll in the path of gentian                                                                                                                  And the silence of tree trunks