Whan That Septembre — Lucas Blogs About The Canterbury Tales: Part 5
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| Yup! Five-ish months in and I'm still sticking with the same picture. No regrets. |
The Hold-up, A Clerk Like the Guy who Checks You out at the Store?
No, a clerk (pronounced "clark") is more like a medieval college student. But since medieval universities were affiliated with the Catholic Church, presumably the clerk is preparing for a career in the clergy. That said, if we judge by The Canterbury Tales, college students in Medieval England were thought of more as frat bros than studious nerds. You may recall that Nicholas and Absolon and John and Alain from the Miller's and Reeve's tales were all clerks as well. Anyhoo, the fouth fragment kicks off with, what else:
The Clerk's Prologue
Harry Bailly calls out the Clerk for his reflective silence and calls on him to regale them with a "murye" tale that isn't told in a high style. So, the Clerk replies that he'll share a tale he heard from a clerk named Fraunceis Petrak (Francesco "Petrarch" Petrarca) who "Elumined al Ytaile of poesye." So, yeah, a merry tale free of any high style is sure to follow. Just kidding, it's a morality play told in rhyme royal.
The Clerk's Tale
Part One
So, there's this place called Saluces (Saluzzo) in the west of Ytaile (Italy) where the markis (marquess), Walter, is beloved by his subjects except for one tiny little detail. You see, they want him to get married, so they go before him and they entreat him to take a wife so that they might be ruled by his heir rather than some rando who shows up to claim Saluces after he dies. They even offer to select the highest born woman in the land for him to marry. Walter replies, "You know, I'd really prefer not to, I enjoy the freedom of bachelorhood, but since you insist, I'll get married. You don't need to pick a wife for me, after all, it is God's grace, not lineage, which endows people with virtue. But do treat whomever I pick as if she were an emperor's daughter." Clearly Walter is unfamiliar with the hardships with befell Custaunce back in "The Man of Law's Tale," but his people assent and he orders his knights and squires to prepare a feast.
Part Two
In a village not far from the palace, lived a man named Janicula with a beautiful and virtuous daughter named Grisildis (sometimes Grisilde or just Grisild, but in Modern English Griselda). She spent her waking hours cheerfully looking after her work and her father, and it just so happens that Walter has espied her while out hunting and previously thought to himself, "You know, if I were gonna marry anyone, it'd be her." So, as the day of his wedding approaches, everyone's getting a little antsy because, he hasn't told anyone who his bride is gonna be. On the day of the event, Grisildis is thinking about how she'd like to go and see who the markisesse (marchionesse) will be, when Walter shows up at her doorstep and asks to speak to her father. Turns out, he's planning to marry Grisildis and when Janicula gives his blessing, Walter proposes but advises Grisildis that if she accepts she must promise to obey him in all things. Grisildis — not seeing anything ominous in this exchange — accepts and is immediately stripped naked and dressed in fine clothes by her new attendants. She is accepted and beloved by her new subjects. Not long after the wedding, she gives birth to a daughter, and although everyone would have preferred that she have a son, they're chill about it because she's too young to be barren.
Part Three
So one day Walter decides (as one does) to test his wife's obedience. So he calls Grisildis out and says, "Hey, I hope you haven't forgotten how I lifted you out of poverty by marrying you. You know, I went out on a limb and some of my vassals aren't too crazy about this match. So could you reassure me of the commitment you made to obey me when I proposed?" And Grisildis is all like, "Yeah, both I and my child are yours to do with as you please. The only thing I fear is losing you." And so Walter does what any husband would do, he goes to one of his sketchy friends to ask a favor. Said friend then goes to Grisildis and says, "I'm here on behalf of your husband to take away your daughter." And although she does insist on blessing her daughter and giving her a kiss goodbye, Grisildis accepts her husband's command. Walter then secrets his daughter away to Boloigne (Bologna) to be raised in secret by his sister, the Countesse of Panik (Panico). He does not notice any change in his wife's behavior or attentions.
Part Four
Five-ish years later, Grisildis gives birth to Walter's son. When the child is two-years-old, Walter once again is overtaken by an uncontrollable desire to test his wife. So he goes to her and says, "Look, the people aren't going to be happy following the son of a commoner, so we're gonna have to get rid of him the same way we got rid of our daughter." And Grisildis replies, "Well, if that's how it has to be. You know that I want whatever you want." So, once again, the sketchy friend comes and whisks the son away to Boloigne. And at this point in the story, the people of Saluces really are pissed off because their markis has a bit of a reputation as a child murderer. I wonder why that could be? But that's not enough for Walter, because when his daughter turns twelve (which I might remind you was the age of consent in medieval Europe) he goes to Rome and forges a bull annulling his marriage. Meanwhile, he sends a letter to his brother-in-law, the Erl of Panik to bring his children back to Saluces, but not to tell anyone that they're his children, just that he's taking the young girl to Saluces to get married. Ick!
Part Five
So, Walter tells Grisildis about the (fake) annulment and his plans to (pretend to) remarry, and tells her to take back her dowry and return to her father's house. And you'd think that this new circumstance would free Grisildis from her promise to obey him, and yet, she responds by saying, "Okay, fine. You're right, I'll leave. Since I left my father's house naked, I'll return there naked. But since I didn't bring anything here but my maidenhood, and I can't exactly take that back, could I trade it for a smock to preserve my modesty on the walk back." Walter acquiesces and Grisildis is accompanied back to her father's house by her sorrowful (former) subjects.
Part Six
As all the elements fall into place for Walter to reveal the upshot of his elaborate prank, he calls Grisildis back to his household and asks her to help prepare for his upcoming wedding. She agrees and when the day arrives she's done more work than anyone. Everyone agrees that Walter's new (supposed) wife (who, I will remind you, is twelve and his daughter) is beautiful. When Walter calls Grisildis forth to ask her opinion of his new wife, she agrees that the new markisesse is beautiful, but that Walter should go easy on her, because it looks like she was raised in ease and comfort and probably couldn't bear Walter's testing as well as a poor woman could. Walter then reveals that the whole thing was just a ruse to test Grisildis's loyalty. They're still married and their children are still alive and they're right there at the wedding! Everyone is inexplicably overjoyed and no one questions why Walter would do such a thing (except the Clerk, he agrees that what Walter did was bad). And they all live happily ever after, Walter brings Grisildis's father to live with them, both of their children marry well and are happy (and notably Walter's heir doesn't put his wife through the wringer). And shouldn't we all be like Grisildis and bear whatever difficulties God puts in our way? (Yes, that is the moral the Clerk has landed on.) Why there probably aren't more than a few people with the fortitude of Grisildis in most towns.
The Clerk's Envoy & The Host's Statement
The Clerk then sings a song imploring women not to be like Grisildis in their own marriages, but to stand up for themselves and not take shit from their husbands. Harry Baily is so impressed by the tale that he once again blasphemes (Goddes bones!).
What Did Lucas Think of The Clerk's Tale?
So this one was a little rough. But we'll start with the good. First, this month's Middle English Word of the Month: "sclaudre" which means "evil report" as in "The sclaundre of Walter ofte and wide spradde." (The Canterbury Tales, Fragment IV, Line 722) It sounds similar enough to "slander" that it's easy for the contemporary reader to parse, and it's just fun to say. In fact, that's something that I don't think I've emphasized enough in this blog series, it's fun to read The Canterbury Tales out loud. The iambs make it nice and sing-songy. And speaking of the poetry itself, I liked the return of the rhyme royale (ABABBCC) stanzas from "The Man of Law's Tale." It helps give the poetry momentum, which is helpful when you're reading a story like this one that just doesn't quite work.
And before I talk about that. I will say that that I do like the fact that Chaucer does complicate his presentation of this story by having the Clerk comment on the events of the story (frequently to criticize Walter's obviously unforgivable behavior) and by having the Clerk sing a song whose moral conflicts with the stated moral of the story itself. That said, it does undercut the story as a whole. Even without this tension between the narrator and the story, the story of Walter and Grisildis is kind of hard to swallow on its own.
Let's start with the problem for the contemporary reader. The revelation that not only has Walter not murdered their children and not annulled their marriage in order to marry a twelve-year-old but only did so to test Grisildis's loyalty to him actually seems more cruel than if he had killed the kids and sent her packing back to her dad's hovel. He's robbed her of the chance to see her children grow up and he's gaslighted . . . gaslit . . . made her think that she's widely hated when, in point of fact, he's the one who's hated as an infanticidal tyrant. The fact that Grisildis and his subjects are satisfied with his "It was just a prank, bro!" explanation makes the story particularly unsatisfying.
Now, I won't presume to speak for the Medieval reader, but I suspect that the story would have seemed unsatisfying as an allegory as well. As the Clerk points out, the story of Grisildis has Big Book of Job Energy (BBoJE), he also admits to learning it from his reading of Petrarch's Latin translation of the final story from Bocaccio's Decameron (a source for many of The Canterbury Tales). And I can see the appeal of a story of forbearance rewarded to a group of nobles sitting out a plague in the countryside. However, as mentioned above, there is a big tension between the Clerk's seeming admiration for the story and his own comments while telling it. This would seem to anticipate a negative audience reaction. And that's because, as a story of Job-like patience being rewarded, it doesn't work.
Now, I have problems with the Book of Job (and even did when I was a more religious person), but there is a key difference between God's relationship with Job and Walter's relationship with Grisildis. God allows Job to suffer because he knows that Job will not renounce his faith, while Walter subjects Grisildis to suffering in order to test her loyalty. Sure, both of them are rotten things to do to a person who has placed their trust in you, but God is often presented as having motives that are incomprehensible to mere mortals while Walter's behavior is rooted in banal concerns about her fidelity. Which is probably why Chaucer's version of the story has so many disclaimers, including a song that tells women not to submit to cruel husbands.
Honestly, this just feels like it was included because Chaucer wanted The Canterbury Tales to contain the breadth of the literature of his time.
The Outro
Well, that's it for this month. Comeback next mont when I tackle the other tale from the fourth fragment: "The Merchant's Tale."
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