Religion in Geoffrey Chaucer's "The Prioress' Tale"

          This semester we read several literary works that connect to Gender, Religion, and Disability.
In Geoffrey Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales, religion is a prominent theme, especially in "The Prioress' Tale."
          In "The Prioress' Tale," there are traces of anti-Semitism by the way that Jews are treated in the tale. The Prioress specifically is classified as having a negative attitude towards Jewish people. She is labeled as being anti-Semitic by the way that she talks about the Jews. Critics such as Denise Despres say that, "the Prioress' virulent brand of anti-Judaism." She is labeled as being anti-Semitic because of the way that she tells her tale.

The Prioress in Geoffrey Chaucer's "The Prioress' Tale."

          In the tale, the Jews living in the community are all persecuted after the murder of the young Christian boy. Because the Christians think that a Jew killed the boy, the Christians torment and kill all of the Jews in response to the killing of the child. Therefore, the Jewish community is blamed for the child's death. There is evidence of religious violence because of the slaughter of the Jews. One literary critic argues that they, "represent the ideological 'enemy,' or anyone of any religion 'whose wisdom is without faith'...Their slaughter by Christians is the triumph." The slaughter of the Jews indicates the tension between Christians and Jews. They see the killing of Jews as a positive thing instead of a negative thing. This shows the role of religion in the tale and how it causes a divide within religious groups of people.
          "The Prioress' Tale," serves as evidence of the existence of anti-Semitic ideas for a long time in history. The tale is compared to events in history such as the Holocaust during World War II. Critics such as Greg Wilsbacher claim that, "'The Prioress' Tale' is ruined by the similarity between...some of the anti-Semitic propaganda whiich was current in Nazi Germany, and which is still in operation, not only in numerous foreign countries but also here at home." He compares "The Prioress' Tale" to the propaganda that was used during World War II. The propaganda that was used contained anti-Semitic ideas just like in Chaucer's "The Prioress' Tale." This shows that the idea of anti-Semitism has existed throughout history. During the time of the Holocaust, Jews were treated similarly to how they are treated in the tale. In both situations, Jews were persecuted and killed for their religion.

The Disabling Qualities of The Prioress in Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales

This semester my Middle English Literature class explored several texts looking specifically at gender, disability, and religion in the texts and identifying the links between them. While I had read some of the texts in the past, this new perspective allowed for a fresh read and new insight into these works. One of the texts, Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales, explores the intentions of several religious figures through the implications of the tales they tell on their pilgrimage.

My term paper for this class looked closely at the Prioress' introduction in the General Prologue and the implications of her tale. Through my discussion I examined the possibility that the Prioress is not a good Christian woman and that she disables those around her with her inability to look past her own self. This is implied as early as the General Prologue with the physical descriptions of the Prioress. Thomas Farrell discusses this in his article “The Prioress’s Fair Forehead” in which he seeks to understand Chaucer’s attention to the Prioress’ physical description, specifically her forehead: “But sikerly she hadde a fair foreheed-/It was almost a spanne brood, I trowe” (Chaucer ll.154-155). Farrell tries to determine what a “spanne” is in Chaucer’s time and explain how this is a way of implying the Prioress’ size (Farrell 212). This would show that she indulges in large amounts of food and beverage which is not typical of someone involved in the clergy who should be giving more to others and taking less for themselves. This is evidence of her selfishness which takes away from others and therefore has a disabling quality.

Another oddity in the tale is the way the Prioress uses apostrophe in order to cover up her inappropriate comments regarding the Jews. Jessica Fenn identifies this tactic in her article “Apostrophe, Devotion, and Anti-Semitism: Rhetorical Community in the Prioress’s Prologue and Tale” where she cites examples of the Prioress’ language. One example of this is her call to God followed by the reference to the Hugh of Lincoln (Chaucer ll. 683-684). She calls to God to gain authority over what she is going to say and then references a well-known story to bring credibility to her own tale (Fenn 435). However, introducing the Hugh of Lincoln adds to the idea that she is trying to present the Jews in a negative light and her anti-Semitic beliefs. Geraldine Heng provides helpful information about the Hugh of Lincoln in her article “England's Dead Boys: Telling Tales of Christian-Jewish Relations Before and After the First European Expulsion of the Jews.” Heng’s article brings to light the fact that the Prioress’ tale includes a much more extreme punishment of the Jews than in the original story that her tale parallels. This is evidence of her blinding hatred which disables the Jews in her eyes. The Prioress’ selfishness coupled with her inability to see beyond her own point of view disables not only those around her, but also herself as she is unable to fulfill her Christian duties.

Image of the Prioress 

The Summoner: The Man Sick with Sin

The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer follows the journey of a large group of pilgrims. They begin at the Tabard Inn in Southwark, England, and continue on until they reach the cathedral within the city of Canterbury. It opens with a prologue, in which the narrator gives a description of everyone who is participating in the pilgrimage. Following that, each character gets a chance to tell their own tale.

Within the “General Prologue” of The Canterbury Tales, Chaucer describes the character known as The Summoner to be infected with a terrible disease. He is described to be covered in cysts, lumps, infections, and pimples. His face is horribly inflamed, red, and so swollen that he can barely keep his eyes open. His appearance is so terrible that it frightens children. Many scholars have speculated on what exactly ails the man. Some say it is dry scabies, late-stage syphilis, or gutta rosacea. No matter his exact diagnoses, during Medieval England, he most likely would have been said to have leprosy, as this term was unknowingly used to diagnose an incredible amount of diseases due to the limited understanding of illnesses.

Visual representation of The Summoner

During the Middle Ages, it was commonly believed that when a person did something morally or spiritually wrong, it was reflected on their body in the form of illness or disease. In most instances, the disease was leprosy. In Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales, The Summoner falls victim to this very belief. He led a very sinful life filled with sodomy, lechery (excessive sexual desire, also known as lustfulness), and simony. Bryon Grigsby best describes the man’s simony by saying, “Instead of searching out immoral people and sending them to either the [church] or [non-religious] authorities, he searches out morally good people and [forces] money out of them or accepts bribes from morally bad people to avoid turning them over to the authorities.” As a summoner, his duty was to bring people who were guilty of spiritual crimes to the ecclesiastical court to be punished. However, he abused his position in order to make money for himself. This, along with the other sins mentioned, was more than enough for The Summoner to be punished by God by becoming infected with a terrible disease.

Sharon Rhodes offers her opinion regarding The Summoner’s disease and sins. She considers leprosy to be an obvious mark on a person that advertises their sins to the world. She explains, “Consequently, . . . Chaucer’s Summoner . . . appear[s] as [a] leper[ ]. The[ ] character[‘s] skin[ ] publicly broadcast[s] their private wickedness, allowing—even forcing—the audience to visualize the effects of sin which would otherwise be unreadable.” Generally, once a person sinned enough for it to be reflected on their skin in the form of a disease, they would make some positive changes in their life in an effort to rid themselves of the illness. However, The Summoner chooses not to make changes to his lifestyle and continues to sin as much as he had before becoming a leper. Rhodes speculates that his pilgrimage to Canterbury is a last-ditch effort to save himself. It was said that in Canterbury, those with leprosy could receive a type of holy water made with a small amount of St. Thomas’ blood, which was believed to cure the disease from those who truly seek forgiveness from God.

Understanding Masculinity: Today and in the Medieval Period

In college, I took one of my favorite classes to date entitled Men and Masculinities.  A naïve sophomore with a penchant for reading rather than talking to boys, I couldn’t have felt more ill at ease sitting in a required gender class discussing masculinity.  As the semester progressed though, I found my voice as we read Michael Kimmel’s Guyland, which exposes a hidden world — at least to me — where males perform masculinity, clinging to an image of the macho, heterosexual man.  This image, carefully crafted through the art of being anything but careful, coincides with remaining an indelible frat boy.  Through the class, my eyes opened to the layers and nuances of gender, which is often a performance, constructed to fit comfortably within an accepted norm. 

In an August 2015 edition of The New York Times, Jessica Bennet writes about Kimmel’s quest to forge the first master’s degree in masculinity.  Kimmel’s project highlights the need to continuously explore and demystify heteronormative man-code, especially in a world where unimaginable wrongs are often associated with dominant masculinity, as Bennet writes of “suicide, terrorism, rape, mass shootings, jetliner crashes or young black men being killed by the police,” all of which fall under the guise of the masculine (Bennet).  She also notes Kimmel’s repertoire class question:  what is the difference between a “good man” and a “real man?”  The ensuing discussion, which Bennet documents, identifies a good man as a genuinely good person with adjectives such as “caring” easily tossed around; on the other hand, a “real man” elicits such gender-specific responses as:  “It means suppressing any kind of weakness…Walk[ing] like a man… Never cry[ing]” (Bennet).  In this way, although society is cognizant of the confining codes of masculinity and the corresponding need to deconstruct these restrictive ideals, at large, there is still a divide between masculinity and femininity that necessitates the reproduction of hindering gender performances.  As Daphne C. Watkins, director of the American Men’s Studies Association states, “Many men still define masculinity as someone who can provide for his family, who can wrestle a tiger and protect. What I would love to see is for us to broaden those definitions” (Bennet). 

As such, perceptions of masculinity in the twenty-first century often correspond with the Medieval Period, as knights like Sir Launcelot are inelastically idealized.  For instance, Sir Launcelot, while in a tussle over Queen Guinevere, is nonetheless praised for his knightly bravery and loyalty both on and off his horse.  The text states, “for there was none of the twelve knights might stand Sir Launcelot one buffet” (Mallory 788).   As such, he can “wrestle a tiger and protect,” while also “provid[ing] for his family,” as he defends, to the death, the Queen:  “for have ye no doubt, while I am a man living I shall rescue you” (Mallory 788).  Effectively then, even by today’s (apparently not-so) modern standards, Sir Launcelot is a man amongst men.  Sadly, Sir Launcelot’s association with masculinity is very much ingrained, proving it nearly impossible to deconstruct these confining gender codes.  On the Youtube channel SoulPancake, for instance, a video entitled “What is masculinity?” asks a number of men to analyze their identity as a man.  Tellingly, most answer the question in a limiting, confining fashion, exposing the archaic definitions of masculinity that still pervade society.  One of the men rhetorically asks, “Am I supposed to like sports and chop wood?  What is it?”  Most other men too express the need to be strong while suppressing emotions:  “A man is not able to feel weak in our society.  It is often the source of a tremendous amount of shame” (SoulPancake).  In this way, masculine ideals have not strayed too far from the uber masculinized chivalric code. 

             On the other hand, in Sir Orfeo, the masculine gender norm is challenged, striking a startling cord as the masculine morphs into an uncomfortable place of gender-crossover, which challenges the starkly drawn lines of being a man.  As Sir Orfeo’s heart breaks from his wife’s capture, he removes himself from society to forge a new, humble life in the wilderness.  His fragility is thus too distinct for the kingdom, so he separates himself from all that he has known, changing into a different person in the wake of loss: “Into wilderness ichil te/ And lie ther evermore/ With wilde bestes in holtes hore” (212-214).  As Sir Orfeo abandons society to mourn his queen, he shows that a masculine, dominant male does not necessarily coexist with sadness and weakness.  Orfeo thus leaves everything behind, taking with him only a harp, an instrument that speaks more to the non-gendered soul than to the gendered body:  “Bot his harp he tok algate/ And dede him barfot out ate gate/ No man most it him go” (231-233).  While some might praise Sir Orfeo’s gentler side, he nevertheless seems less than well as he paints an image of almost suicidal depression:  “Allas!.. now me is wo!/ Whi nil deth now me slow…Of liif no deth me no reche” (lines 331-332, 342).  As such, while Sir Orfeo crosses the gendered divide, breaking into a show of uncharacteristic emotion, he does so with a disheveled, unwell psyche.  In this way, as his masculine front suffers, so does his mental well being, making a poor case for gendered crossover.

            Centuries removed from the Medieval Period, the twenty-first century has bridged many gender divides.  Still though, we have a long way to go, as Kimmel’s discourse suggests, before the Sir Launcelots and Queen Guineveres of yesteryear are figures of the past, read about in fiction rather than enacted in real life.  Today though, too many men still embody the traits associated with Guyland, underscoring the need for a continuous conversation to remove stigmas surrounding alternative masculinities. 

The Wife of Bath, Miley Cyrus and Feminism

Growing up as a middle child, I’ve epitomized the term “middle child syndrome.” I owe most of this to my older brother, the giver of hand-me-downs, the “angelic” child, the mighty one: in other words, I am the Miranda to his Carrie Bradshaw (or the Charlotte to his Lizzie Bennett if you want to talk about this in literary terms). Though my parents, bless their souls, never made me feel as though I was less, teachers, family members and even friends, typically overlooked me for my brother; however, a psychic once told me that I had a black soul so perhaps that was a deterrent, but I digress. Through my experience as a female middle child, I am compelled to associate that experience with my exposure to feminism and female prejudice. It’s a little strange, but most of my analysis stems from feminism, and how different texts depict women. I think this fascination (though some may call it obsession) is why the Wife of Bath’s Prologue and Tale in Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales intrigues me.

            When I first read The Wife of Bath’s Tale in high school my first thought was something along the lines of: “What did I just read?” yet, as I read, and re-read, this section in Chaucer’s frame narrative, I began to develop an appreciation for the woman. Confidently stating, “Yblessed be God that I have wedded five!” (44) The Wife begins by addressing societal perceptions of marriage, and possesses an authority I wish I had. One of my favorite parts of her prologue is the break down husband-by-husband, of which “thre men of hem were goode and two were bade” (196).  The most provocative husband (and sleazy) is the fifth, and his physical abuse over a book (A BOOK, PEOPLE) partially deafens her (668). In close proximity to this account, The Wife of Bath then references Crisipus, Trotula, and Tertulan, women that defied the social dogma.  These women that defy the female archetype of 14^th century are similar to the females that defied the female roles of the late 19th^h century and early 20^th century, such as Susan B. Antony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton at the Seneca Falls Convention. Though the Wife of Bath is not literally advocating social change, she is addressing issues of gender, sexuality, and the rights a wife possesses, such as financial rights. Her use of her body is not insinuated, she overtly discusses her sexual organs, and the pleasure they bring.

            This prologue, and tale, offers a plethora of females: the smart, the promiscuous (and gap toothed), the mystical and obedient. The Wife of Bath is unapologetically woman, and she does not apologize for her sex, her many husbands or the fact that she “nyl nat enye no virginitee” (142).  Though the females featured in the prologue are either well-known fictional or historical figures, the Wife of Bath creates the women presented in her tale. With her development of these female characters, I cannot help but to think of things such as the woman question, or Miley Cyrus and her absurdity (sorry for any Cyrus fans out there).  Cyrus, who may seem like an odd choice to compare the Wife of Bath to, uses her feminist perspective to advocate for things such as gay rights, sexual freedom and not shaving your armpits (also known as “lets make everyone European”). The Wife of Bath’s characterization reflects Cyrus’ advocacy because they are both challenging social norms: the Wife of Bath’s unapologetic stance on sex, and her lustily disposition, is extremely forward, and Cyrus’ performance, and display of her body, delivers a similar shock value.

            I am consumed by the idea that The Wife of Bath’s Prologue and Tale reflects social anxieties in regards to females. I wonder how much of the Wife of Bath is meant to shock, and the how much is intended to scare. Though the Wife of Bath is a comical, almost absurd character with her descriptions and notions, she does convey the social climate. Her dialogue reminds me of contemporary discussions pertaining to female space, and her collection of husbands makes me wonder how she could deal with so many men, and how any time period would misconstrue a serial-bride as a black widow, a woman that kills her husband(s).
            In her tale, the Wife of Bath discusses the Knight, who raped a young maiden, and later saved by an "old" woman. The tale highlights female appearance, and how society measures female value: virginity, as mentioned in the prologue, or beauty, as pointed out in the tale. This mimics themes seen in classic Disney movies, specifically Snow White and the purity of her pale, beautiful skin. Commodifying women, and using their beauty and virginity as trade, appears to be an issue that has especial longevity. The transformation of the Wife of Bath's old hag into a beautiful woman is reminiscent of the Evil Queen's metamorphosis in Snow White, and positions the female body as a tool for deceit. 

Making Arthurian Women Strong

When reading about King Arthur, you tend to find yourself becoming engrossed in the beauty of the land, the glamour of the knighthood, the sheen and shimmer of the glitzy armor, the valiant quest and brave acceptance of brotherhood fate, and the over abundant appeal to the weak and subservient woman! When there is so much brave conquest achieved in these stories, it is difficult to describe any character as weak and subservient. Yet, the story of King Arthur is surrounded by fragile women who have difficulty in achieving their own thought process let alone, valor, success or glamour. Instead of King Arthur conversing amidst his 150 man “Round Table,” I would like to see certain characters and authors have an intervention around that massive manly table with Guinevere and other feeble mannered Arthurian characters.

Several authors have inspired women to become independently free thinking human beings through the thoughts and actions of their opinionated resilient characters. Charlotte Brontё, Kate Chopin, and Charlotte Gilman Perkins, to name a few strong hearted authors who defied all societal norms through their stories. They could offer assistance to Guinevere, and King Author’s own mother, Ingraine.

Charlotte Brontё would not have any difficulty discussing with Guinevere how to adapt in a patriarchal society. She created Jane Erye to assert her own identity within a male-dominated society. Many male characters within the story try to keep Jane in a subordinate position and prevent her from expressing her own thoughts and feelings; however, in the end, she only agrees to marry once she is sure that their marriage is between equals. Through Jane’s character, Brontë opposes stereotypes about women, articulating her own feminist philosophy through Jane’s voice:

Women are supposed to be very calm generally: but women feel just as men feel; they need exercise for their faculties, and a field for their efforts as much as their brothers do; they suffer from too rigid a restraint, too absolute a stagnation, precisely as men would suffer; and it is narrow-minded in their more privileged fellow-creatures to say that they ought to confine themselves to making puddings and knitting stockings, to playing on the piano and embroidering bags. It is thoughtless to condemn them, or laugh at them, if they seek to do more or learn more than custom has pronounced necessary for their sex. (Chapter XII)

 

Kate Chopin is another author deserving of an engraved gold plated plate marker, to denote her permanent seat at the intervention for Arthurian women.  Chopin developed Edna Pontellier, in The Awakening, to rebel against conventional expectations from society and to uncover discoveries about individual identity independent from her role as a wife and mother. Edna would be able to capture Ingraine’s attention and speak frankly to her about her role as a mother.

Although these two authors produced their independent characters well before the women’s rights movements in the United States, they recognized in themselves the need to have their voices be heard at a time that was convenient for them. At the turn of the century in America, when women began seeking justice and independent value, Charlotte Perkins Gilman penned her entire utopian female society, Herland. She was a prominent American feminist, and a lecturer for social reform. She became a familiar feminist during a time when independent accomplishments were exceptional for women. Gilman became a role model because of her nonconformist concepts and lifestyle. Gilman would be able to offer her insight to all Arthurian women and give them advice on how to survive by their voice alone. Arthurian women such as: damsel Lyonors, Lady of the Lake, the unnamed mother to Knight Torre and even Nyneve and Morgan le Faye could benefit from the intervention on how not be submissive to Arthur or succumb to the belittling treatment from the men in Arthurian society.

If these three authors could not convince Guinevere to stand up for herself and demand equality in Arthurian court, than perhaps one last modern character could prove to all Arthurian women how one young lone woman could voice opinions and overthrow an entire patriarchal empire. Suzanne Collins introduced, Katniss Everdeen from the Hunger Games. She would defiantly challenge any of Arthur’s knights, or even the great king himself.

Alongside Katniss, Tris Prior from Veronica Roth’s  Divergent could finalize any unwavering thoughts on the women’s revolt against Arthurian society.

All these authors captured the female figure and elevated her beyond super strength that defies all negative connotations associated with gender roles found in Arthurian society. Honestly Guinevere, be the rightful Queen and stand up to these men and free the female voice. You are not alone, there are future women who need to “hear” the freeing of your persona. Play the “Fight Song” as you prepare for battle!

Rachel Platten - “Fight Song”