Geoffrey Chaucer and Cultural Confidence - Part 2

The Book of the Dutchess

Geoffrey Chaucer and Cultural Confidence, by William Lyon Shoestrap

Part 2 - the Book of the Dutchess

While most of us know Chaucer as the author of the ‘Canterbury Tales’, we should also remember him for these three poems - the ‘Book of the Duchess’, the ‘House of Fame’, and the ‘Parliament of Fowls’. And, for what these three poems all have in common – a dream. And in all three poems, he directly references ‘Scipio’s Dream’ by Cicero.

[Note: I have used “a modernised version or translation, retaining Chaucer's rhyme scheme, and close to the original, but eliminating archaisms which would require explanatory notes” by A. S. (Tony) Kline (2007). A free download of Chaucer’s poem can be found at: https://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/English/Duchess.php ]

While it is not 100% perfect, it is still an enjoyable effort that gives us humble readers an easily read and easily understood insight into the mind of our English poet, Geoffrey Chaucer.]

Geoffrey Chaucer

The poem begins with the author of our poem complaining that he cannot sleep, that he lives in a kind of apathy, where he feels neither joy nor sorrow, where he doesn’t care about anything, and where his ‘sorrowful imagination’ fills his head with such ‘melancholy’ and ‘fantasies’ that he fears that this may eventually kill him.

I wonder greatly, by this day’s light,

How I still live, for day and night

The sleep I gain is well nigh naught,

I have so many an idle thought,

Simply through default of sleep,

That, by my troth, I take no heed

Of anything that comes or goes,

Nor anything do like or loath.

All is of equal good to me,

Joy or sorrow, whichever be,

For I have feeling now for nothing,

But am, as it were, a dazed thing

Ever on the point of dropping down

For sorrowful imagination

Always wholly grips my mind.  [lines 1-15]

But then, one night when our poet couldn’t sleep, he decided to read a book – Ovid’s ‘Metamorphosis’, and in this book, he found a tale of a king and queen – ‘Ceyx and Alcyone’. And now their story is told – that when Ceyx didn’t return from a sea voyage (where during a storm, he and all his crew were drowned) Alcyone was so worried and so sorrowful, not knowing if he was alive or dead, and so she prayed to Juno to show her ‘mercy’, and to tell her, in a dream, what had happened to her husband.

Juno sent her messenger to tell Morpheus, the god of sleep, that he should go and find the dead body of Ceyx, and so, wearing the body of Ceyx, he could appear to Alcyone in her dream, to tell her how he had drowned, so as to end her sorrow.

In the next part of the poem, our poet tells us that this story made him think that this would be wonderful, if it was true – that maybe here was a way that he could solve his problem of not sleeping!

And so, after promising a gift to Morpheus, or Juno, or anyone else, that would let him sleep and get some rest, he finally fell asleep and he had this dream. And he compares this telling of his dream, to Joseph telling Pharoah of his dream, and to Macrobius telling of Scipio’s dream.

[Macrobius Ambrosius Theodorius, who lived during the 5^th century AD, wrote ‘Commentary on the Dream of Scipio’ that was widely copied and read, and this is how the ‘Dream of Scipio’ – the sixth book of Cicero’s ‘Republic’, survived and was passed down to later generations, including Chaucer.]

Scarcely had I that word said

Right thus as I have told it you,

When suddenly, I know not how,

Such a desire at once me took

To sleep, that right upon my book

I fell asleep, and therewith seemed

To dream so wholly sweet a dream,

So wonderful that never yet

I think has any had the wit

To know how my dream be read;

No, not Joseph, be it said,

Of Egypt, he that deciphered so

The dreams of the king, Pharoah,

No more than the least of us;

No, scarcely could Macrobius,

He who wrote the whole vision

Scipio dreamed, of that noble man

He who was called the African –

Such marvels happened then –

Read my vision, it would seem,

Lo, thus it was, this was my dream. [lines 270 – 290]

Now our poet is dreaming, and it’s a morning in May when he’s just been awakened by the sweet singing of the birds, and all the windows in his chamber were stained with the story of Troy, and all the walls were painted with the story of the Romance of the Rose.

It has been claimed that Chaucer translated into old English ‘The Romance of the Rose’ (a 13^th century French poem that was also about a dream of a search for love).

While lying awake in bed, he heard the huntsman blow his horn to signal the start of the king’s hunt, and so he rose and joined the hunt in the forest. Then while walking in the forest, he came across a young knight, dressed in black, sitting against a tree, with his head hanging down in grief, reciting a song of sorrow.

Our poet asks the knight what makes him so troubled, and that if the knight would tell him why, then maybe he could help to ease his heart. But the knight says that nothing can cure his sorrow, but that if anyone that heard his story, didn’t have ‘ruth’ and ‘pity’ for him [i.e. compassion], then they must surely have an fiendish heart.

And whoever knew all, by my truth,

Of my sorrow, and had not ruth

And pity on my sorrow’s smart

He would have a fiend’s heart. [lines 591 – 594]

And now, we hear the knight tell his tale of woe to our poet. He blames his sorrow upon Fortune, and he compares his fate to a game of chess, where he lost his queen, and Fortune called out ‘Check’ and ‘Mate’! And the knight wished that he had studied more, so that he could have guarded his queen better, but then he said that ‘I hold that wish not worth a straw’ – that it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, that he couldn’t have changed his fate, and that is why he is so sorrowful.

Yet, in truth, I say, what for and why?

I hold that wish not worth a straw.

It would never have aided me more,

For Fortune knows many a wile,

There are but few can her beguile [lines 670 – 674]

And so, our poet said that the knight should have some compassion for himself, and he tried to remind the knight of Socrates, who cared ‘not a straw’ for fate.

‘Ah, good sir’, quoth I, ‘say not so.

Have some pity on human nature

That created you as a creature.

Remember how once Socrates

Counted not a straw, not three,

Aught that Fortune could do.’ [lines 714 – 719]

Here our poet is referring to Socrates saying that instead of fearing death, he feared doing something that was unjust:

‘Then I, however, showed again, by action, not in word only, that I did not care a whit for death, if that be not too rude an expression, but that I did care with all my might not to do anything unjust or unholy.’ [Apology - 32d]

And now begins an argument between our poet and the knight.

‘No’, quoth he, ‘I can not so’.

‘Who so, good sir, by God!’ quoth I,

‘Nay say not so in truth, for, why,

Though you had lost queens twelve,

And then for sorrow slain yourself,

You would be damned in this case

As rightly as Medea of Thrace,

Who slew her children for Jason;

And Phyllis who for Demophon

Hung herself, well-away,

Since he had failed on that day

To come to her. Another rage

Had Dido too, Queen of Carthage,

Who slew herself since Aeneas

Was false, what a fool she was!

And Echo died since Narcissus

Would not love her, and right thus

Many another was folly done.

And for Delilah died Sampson,

Who slew himself beneath the pillar.

But there is none alive here

Would for a queen feel this woe!’ [lines 720 – 741]

Our poet tells the knight that this ‘romantic’ kind of love will end with him killing himself, and it’s not real love, it’s rage, foolishness and folly, and that he shouldn’t feel this way, over a queen. But now, the knight tells our poet that he has lost more than a queen – ‘I have lost more than you can see’, and so, the knight tells his story that since his youth, when he first began to understand what love is, he devoted himself to love.

But because love came first in thought

Therefore I forgot it nought.

I chose love as my first craft,

Therefore it bides with me at last.’ [lines 789 – 792]

Then one day, by Fortune, he chanced to see a lady that surpassed all others in beauty, both in manners and in appearance, and that she was all that entered into his thoughts. And many others also looked on her, hoping that she would take mercy on them – but ‘she gave not a straw’ for them all.

‘But many a one with a glance she hurt,

Though that little troubled her at heart,

For she knew nothing of their thought:

Though whether she knew or knew it not,

She gave not a straw for all, you see!

To win her love no closer was he

At home, than one who in India pined;

The foremost one was ever behind.

But good folk above all others

She loved as men love their brothers;

Of which love she was generous rarely

In certain places that proved worthy’ [lines 883 – 894]

But she gave ‘not a straw’, not because of pride, or ‘petty tricks’ but because she set her mind ‘without malice upon gladness’ – no one was ever harmed ‘by her tongue’, her word was ‘true as any bond’, ‘nor chided she’ whatever happened.

‘She so loved her own good name,

She wished to trifle with no man,

No, be sure, she would not stand

That any should live in suspense

With half-hints or sly countenance’ [lines 1018 – 1022]

And so, the knight set about to lay all his love, his joy, and his bliss upon her, and he even made songs of his feelings for her, but he was afraid to tell her. Then thinking that Nature couldn’t have made someone with such beauty and goodness, but ‘without mercy’, he finally told her his story (but not very well).

‘For many a word I over-skipped

In my tale, simply through fear,

Lest my words unfitting were.

With sorrowful heart to wounds wed,

Softly, quaking for pure dread

And shame, and halting in my tale

For fear, and my hue all pale,

Full oft I waxed both pale and red.

Bowing to her, I hung my head;

I dared not once look thereon,

For wit, manner and all were gone.

I cried ‘mercy’ and no more [lines 1208 – 1219]

And when he had finished telling his tale ‘she gave never a straw’, (or so he thought)!!!

And when I had my tale all told,

God knows, she gave never a straw

For all my tale, so I thought. [lines 1236 – 1238]

And he quietly slipped away and lived each day looking for sorrow. But after a year, and overcoming his fear, the knight decided to tell her that he only wanted ‘nothing but good, and honour, and to guard her name above all things’. And that it would be a pity if he should die because of his woe. When she now knew all of this, she showed him ‘the noble gift of her mercy’, and she gave him her ring, and he learned of her true compassion.

Our joy was ever endless new;

Our hearts were so even a pair

That neither was contrary, I swear

Ever to the other, despite all woe.

For truly they suffered alike so

One bliss, and one sorrow both;

Equally glad and vexed both.

All was one, no quarrelling there.

And thus we lived full many a year

So well, I cannot tell you how.” [lines 1288 – 1297]

And so ended the knight’s tale. But our poet asked where is she now? And the knight replied that he had said that he lost more than our poet could see.

‘Alas! sir, how? How may that be?’

‘She is dead.’ ‘Nay!’ ‘Yes, by my troth.’

‘By God, then I pity you for your loss.’ [lines 1308 – 1310]

Our poet gives the knight ‘compassion’, (and shows that he does not have a fiend’s heart – lines 591 – 594). What more can the knight ask for, and what more can our poet give him – but compassion? The same ‘mercy’ and compassion that his lady had given him? And immediately, the huntsman’s horn rang out, and the king and his followers returned to his castle, when the castle bell now rang out – and our poet awoke.

Thought I: ‘This is so strange a dream

That I will, in process of time,

Strive to put this dream in rhyme

As best I can’, and that full soon.

This was my dream; now it is done. [lines 1330 – 1334]

And our dream and our poem have ended. And hopefully, Chaucer has shown us that melancholy and fantasies of ‘romantic love’ are ‘not worth a straw’, but that we should instead look not to Fortuna, but to ‘mercy’ and ‘ruth’, and to a compassion that may change our fate.

Have fun. mercifully.

[next - part 3 - The Parliament of Fowls]