If the name of Geoffrey Chaucer is not well known among today’s young readers, it deserves to be. His fourteenth century epic poem, the Canterbury Tales, was foundational for English literature, and for the English language in general; in some respects, it is right to say that he is the father not only of a language, but of a nation. His choice to write in English, and not in Latin or French (the languages in which most medieval literature was written) was revolutionary, and it produced a literary tradition that gave rise to some of the greatest poets and novelists the world has ever known. There would be no Shakespeare or Milton, no Austen or Dickens, without Chaucer. There may even have been no England; or, at least, England may have looked very different, as the educated classes might never have stopped speaking French.
The Canterbury Tales, with its towering literary legacy, also stands on its own merits. It begins by introducing a band of pilgrims, who are planning to visit the shrine of St Thomas of Canterbury. They decide that each should tell a story on the way there, and promise to throw a grand feast for whoever tells the best one. The myriad different kinds of people included in this party may shock the average reader today. The European middle ages, with their uniform Catholicism, are not particularly known for their diversity; and yet we are struck by the fact of their shared faith bringing people of manifold backgrounds together for their journey. Nobles like the Knight and the Prioress, numerous clergymen, the lower class Miller, Reeve, and Yeoman, and various other charming figures all ride together toward the famed shrine of St Thomas. The barrier of gender is also broken; men and women are encouraged alike to share their tales. Chaucer gives each member of this colorful crew a unique voice and personality, a literary choice common among modern novelists but unheard of in his time. Some even consider him the first novelist.
The tales themselves are riveting and rambunctious, from the elaborate fart joke of the Summoner to the racy, drunken tale of the Miller to the Greek epic of the Knight. The wonderful thing about old literature is how it makes our forefathers seem more human, more real. If anyone imagines the medievals to be prudes, let him read the Merchant’s tale of two young lovers and their mischievous, risqué pranks; if anyone imagines them to be misogynists, let him read the Wife of Bath’s tale, through which Chaucer attacks adulterous men who don’t appreciate their wives. These characters give us a glimpse of the diverse personalities of the middle ages; reading the Canterbury Tales helps us to see our ancestors in a new light, and realize they are not so different from us.
The most alien thing, perhaps, to us about Chaucer is his Catholicism. Not merely his personal religiosity, but the rule of faith as the central fact of medieval European life, is unimaginable to most Americans today. Seeing a Catholic England so vividly portrayed in the Canterbury Tales is both bizarre and fascinating, and it is difficult even for the modern secularist not to be touched by Chaucer’s apparent devotion to the Virgin Mary, as he expresses it through the tales of the Man of Law and the Prioress. Each tale revolves around the central truth, as Chaucer sees it, of Catholicism in its own unique way; it is shared by all of his pilgrims, as it was by medieval Europeans in general. Reading about them helps us understand the way they thought. We learn that they were not the ignorant, superstitious caricatures that many picture today when thinking about the middle ages; they were intelligent and thoughtful, shrewd and strikingly individual. They cherished purity, but they were not Puritans; they believed stories had morals, but they were not strictly Moralists; they loved their Church, but they were not afraid to criticize it. One senses, when reading the Canterbury Tales, that their worldview, with all its flaws, has a kind of balance, and even beauty, to it; that, as foreign to us as the medievals seem, they may have even been sensible.
Politically, the role of Catholicism for Chaucer’s pilgrims is worth reflecting on. One wonders what, if anything, in the modern world might bring together such a diverse party as we see traveling on the road to Canterbury. Modern America is diverse, but it is also divided, and more so with every passing year. We have nothing, it seems, to connect us; no single faith or creed is shared by a consistent majority of Americans. Our individualism offers us great opportunity and expression, but we lack what Chaucer’s pilgrims seem to have: real unity, especially the kind which retains the beauty of the individual personalities of which it is composed. This is what the Church, corrupt though it was, provided for Chaucer’s Europe. While the modern world has long since abandoned religion as a unifying social principle, it has been unable to replace it. There have been various ideas and philosophies by which it has attempted to fill this role, and some, like American nationalism, are very much alive. But American nationalism has failed to really unite America, and we remain more divided than ever.
One does not need to have an interest in history or politics, however, to enjoy the Canterbury Tales; Chaucer’s masterpiece is for anyone who loves good poetry, or simply a good story. His style and mind might have been medieval, but his characters and their tales cross the boundary of time, and the modern reader as much as any of Chaucer’s contemporaries might see himself reflected in them. Above all, Chaucer is funny; he pokes fun at the same quirks in human nature that we do today, and he is as good a humorist as any in English literature. An often neglected truth about our ancestors is that they, being human, loved to laugh; and Chaucer’s mirth, expressed through his comically real and relatable figures on their trip to Canterbury, stands against the dreary, plague infested background of the dark ages like a ray of sunlight shining through the clouds. For that alone, he is worth reading.
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