The Nun’s
Priest is one of the pilgrims in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales of whom we know
virtually nothing before he tells his tale. In the General Prologue we are told
that the Prioress has “another nun” with her and “three priests”. When we reach
the point at which the Nun’s Priest is introduced, there is no mention of the
other two.
The short
prologue of his tale consists mainly of the epilogue of the preceding tale,
namely that of the Monk. This has been a long series of accounts of people who
have fallen from high estate, starting with Lucifer and including rulers closer
to Chaucer’s time. The Knight has interrupted the Monk, saying that he would
rather hear about people who have risen than fallen, and the Host asks the Monk
to tell another, more acceptable, tale. However, he refuses, and so the Nun’s
Priest is asked instead.
Apart from agreeing
to the Host’s request, and apologising should his tale not be considered
“merry” enough, the Priest says nothing in his own prologue. All we learn about
him is in the final line, where he is described as “this sweet priest, this
goodly man, sir John”.
The Tale is
an animal fable, similar in nature to the classical fables told by Aesop, which
would have been very familiar to Chaucer’s real and fictional audiences. However,
it is brought up to date, in medieval terms, by its use of concepts from
medicine, astrology and psychology, in such a way that the Tale gives us an
excellent window on the 14th century mind.
The Tale
We are
introduced to an elderly widow, living a simple life on a small farm with her
two daughters. Of particular interest is her cockerel, named Chauntecleer, who has
seven hens in his harem, the most notable being Pertelote. It soon becomes
clear that we are in a fantasy world here, because these “beasts and birds
could speak and sing”.
One morning,
Chauntecleer is not his usual perky self, and he tells Pertelote that he has
had a bad dream, in which he was frightened by a strange dog-like creature,
causing him to wake up groaning rather than crowing.
Pertelote has
no sympathy for him, regarding his fear as pure cowardice, and declares that
she can have no love for him any more. As hens go, she is clearly a
highly-educated one, as she is able to quote the Roman writer Cato to back her
case that dreams are the result of “bad humours” in the body, and that purging
the body of all the bad stuff is the answer. Pertelote prescribes a list of
readily available herbs that should do the trick. Presumably a 21st
century hen would have recommended a “detox” programme!
Chauntecleer
is not convinced, and quotes other authors who had a different line to that of
Cato. In particular, he recounts a story about two friends who sleep in
different inns, one of whom has a dream about the other being murdered and
thrown into a dung cart. In the morning, he discovers that this is exactly what
has happened in the night. The conclusion is that “murder will out”, and dreams
are God’s way of ensuring that justice is done.
The well-read
cockerel continues by recounting the tale of a man who warned a friend not to
take a sea voyage, because he had had a dream in which he had been told that
the ship would sink. His friend ignored the advice and was subsequently drowned
when the ship foundered. Further examples follow, with the cockerel quoting
Saint Kenelm, the Old Testament, and classical mythology, as sources testifying
to the power of dreams.
In short,
says Chauntecleer, you can forget all about your poisonous laxative herbs,
because I’m not touching them. With that, he hops down from his perch and gets
on with the business of the day, which is finding corn and doing what cocks are
supposed to do when surrounded by willing hens.
Several weeks
pass by, and, on a day when all the chickens are busy in the yard, a fox sneaks
in and hides in ambush, waiting for an opportunity to pounce. Chauntecleer
notices the fox, but, before he can escape, the fox tells him that he means him
no harm, but only wants to hear him sing. Chauntecleer falls for the flattery
and is grabbed by the fox.
As the fox
makes off with the cockerel in his mouth, the widow, her daughters, and all the
farmyard animals set off in chase after them. Even a swarm of bees gets in on
the act. Chauntecleer tells the fox that, were he in the same situation, he
would turn to face his pursuers and tell them to back off. The fox tells
Chauntecleer that this is a good idea, but by opening his mouth to speak he
allows the cockerel to escape and fly high into a tree. The fox tries to
inveigle the cockerel back down, but he will not be caught a second time.
The Priest
then ends his Tale by pointing to its moral, which is to “take the fruit and
let the chaff be still”. In other words, concentrate on what is real and ignore
all the falsities that might surround it, whether one is talking about dreams
or flattery.
There is also
a short epilogue to the Tale, in which the Host thanks the Priest for his tale
and remarks on his appearance, which is the only description given of the
Priest at any point. However, these remarks about how the Priest has “so great
a neck and such a large breast”, and that, if he had not been a priest he would
be very attractive to women, are very reminiscent of the words said by the Host
to the Monk before the latter began his tale. It is possibly for this reason
that Chaucer apparently wished to cancel this epilogue, by crossing through the
text in his manuscript. The Tale, however, is made no better or worse for the
epilogue being either included or omitted.
Discussion
Many people
regard the Nun’s Priest’s Tale as being the best of all the Canterbury Tales,
and it certainly represents Chaucer in top form. He has produced a story that
is so imbued with wit, so cunningly wrought at all points, artfully blending
mockery with sympathy and irony with understanding, that the traditional nature
of the materials is lost sight of in the brilliant finish of the performance.
This is the
first notable example in English of the mock-heroic, a format that allows
triviality to be blown out of proportion by the inclusion of classical
allusions and long digressions, after which, in the current example, the teller
has to bring himself back to the plot. At one moment the characters are
chickens in a farmyard, and the next they are reciting Latin texts.
Chauntecleer becomes an educated gentleman, and Pertelote is a practical and
rather disillusioned woman of the world. The net effect of mock-heroic is to point
to the absurdity of human aspirations and concerns. They matter no more, says
Chaucer, than the scratchings of chickens in the dirt.
As with all
stories of this kind, there is meaning on all sorts of levels, and every fresh
reading reveals new satires and witticisms. This commentator agrees with those
who give the Nun’s Priest’s Tale a very high ranking amongst the Canterbury
Tales of Geoffrey Chaucer.
© John
Welford
No comments:
Post a Comment