4 Tales in 5.5 hours: Monk, Nun’s Priest, Sir Topas, and Melibee

Tuesday, 10.August.2010

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Today began a little “off” as I was unable to get to class the “usual” way.  Electricians had blocked the doors, so I ended up on the stairs that lead nowhere and had to take the “long” way on a day when it was raining. 

This did not bode well nor did covering 4 tales in 4.5 hours, but perhaps it was the food that David provised or the precious reading of the Nun’s Priest’s Tale while David played the part of preening Chanticleer or the excellent presentation by Sue and Cat on the Monk’s tale that made us feel like we were in good companye.

While the Monk’s Tale seems like a cataloguing of all the ways life can go wrong, Sue and Cat presented it as a register of Lady Fortune’s whimsical purview.  The Monk defines “tragedy” briefly in lines 1973-1977, 1991-1994, and the subtitle.

After setting up the lens for reading this as a tragedy, Cat provided background on Boethius—specifically The Consolation of Philosophy (roughly paraphrased: When one problem is removed, another arises.  This brings about many questions.  What causes these problems?  Providence?  Chance?  Unpredictability of human chance?  Desire?  Human knowledge?  Free will?—we charted each vignette’s demise.  Who is at fault?  Lady Fortune (medieval model)?  Or human hamartia (classical model)?

This was an excellent way to get at and into this tale and to bring about discussion.  There was much more to discuss—the monk tells a “monkly” tale, but we don’t expect it given Chaucer’s portrait of him in the General Prologue.  Another question: Women in the Monk’s Tale?

Next, the Nun’s Priest’s Tale.  After hearing Susanna read and David perform, I official LOVE this tale.  The barren widow (with her two daughters) contrasted with this fancy Chanticleer (the only “male” on the entire farm)—I don’t know why I hadn’t made this connection—brings to mind the Priest’s role in the convent.  FYI:  The Nun’s Priest is necessary in the convent to perform mass and hear confessions.   This is interesting in itself: to see the teller reflected so cleverly in the tale.

But what makes this tale so amusing and lovely is the gentle, innocent mocking that happens.  In ways it’s a mock-romance—the way the rooster looks, his comb looking like a castle.  It’s a mock-beast-fable—as Kelly points out “chickens, doing chicken things, pondering human ideas.”  It’s a bit of a mock-tragedy—the evil, dark fox (think Renard which Chaucer would have been familiar with). And…a bit of a mock-epic—in it’s description of the date.

It is resplendent with contrast:  male/female, animal/human, logic/intuition, dream/reality, barren/rich.

And at its heart, this gem: “I kan noon harm of no waman dvyne” (line 3266).  One critic has called this the most ambiguous line in all of Chaucer.  Is kan a helping verb “can” or does is it the a form of the verb konne (to know)?  Is divine a verb or an adjective?  And what about the double negative?  Does it make the sentence affirmative, or is it underscoring that no harm of no woman…

This is now, perhaps one of my favorite tales.

And then we faced Topas and Melibee.  Susanna focused our attention on Topas’ prologue where Harry Bailley asks, “What man artow?” (presumably to Chaucer:“Who are you?”)  These two tales seem, even in their seeming un-pin-down-able-ness, to be Chaucer’s cheeky answer. 

Sir Topas (the guise of Chaucer) presents us wit a mock-romance in style and substance, but the inaccuracies and subtle clunk-rhyme lift the curtain to show us that Chaucer seems to be making parody.  He makes the tale so “bad” that the host interrupts and asks for something else.  The Tale of Melibee is a LOOOONGGGG treatise in prose with no plot about how to exact revenge.  There is a possibility that the Tale of Melibee (with his wife Prudence and his daughter Sophia (meaning wisdom) who gets dropped like a hot potato midway through the Tale) might be written for an audience of Edward II suggesting how to rule moderately, but this is unsubstantiated.   This reminds me, too, of how conscious Chaucer might have been of critics, even if the critic was one of his own imagination. 

This afternoon, suite sweet 8, had conferences with David and Susanna over scones and tea.  Lovely.  It was interesting to hear other’s ideas for projects and to offer input and take advice from each other.  It would be interesting to see the products of everyone’s projects once they are complete. 

I’m now inspired to teach The Prioress’ Tale and Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice (thanks Fran!).

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About lwiseman

Teacher, Writer, Reader, Thinker, Runner
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