The Knight's Tale page 8 (ll 1884 ff)
In the account of the suffering of the severely wounded Arcite, the Knight shows once more his love of medical and gruesome details with disregard for the sensiblities of some of the pilgrims: it is as though he cannot resist dwelling on gory matters he knows from experience. Arcite's chest swells and the "soore" [pain] increases at his heart. "Lechecraft" [medical skill] is powerless to help with the "clothered" [clotted] blood which corrupts where it is left in the "bouk" [body] and "veine-blood" [blood-letting, opening veins to let the blood run out], "ventusinge" [cupping, placing a vacuum over a nearby part to remove blood from the affected area] and herbal potions do not afford relief. This lengthy account reminds us that the intervention of Saturn has taken no regard for the misery of men and is callously careless of human suffering. The gods are unsympathetic. The cold and technical description continues with the Knight's showing clinical knowledge of current theory: the animal virtue is one of three and controls the action of the muscles, including those involved in breathing which are used to expel impurities from the natural virtue through the lungs but Arcite's lungs are damaged and poisons collect in them to cause his death. No detail is spared to tell the listeners that the tubes of his lungs swell and every "lacerte" [muscle] in his chest is "shent" [damaged] with poison and corruption. Nothing helps to save him, not vomiting upwards nor laxatives downwards since everything is damaged. This is a banal and crude report which the Knight tries to salvage by a more sensitive summary: "Nature hath now no dominacioun," before adding a homely sententia, probably a proverb, stating that where Nature does not work, one might as well say: "Farewel phisik! go ber the man to chirche!" This changes the register agan as it is couched in everyday language and dismisses the suffering by its tone. No further sympathy is given in the blunt: "This al and som" [this is the long and short of it] and the narrator is brusque in the mention of Arcite who "moot die."
He sends for Palamon and Emelye and this is the first meeting of Arcite with his beloved face-to-face, a fact which points up the irony in the courtly love situation where he is dying for a woman he had never truly encountered. He claims that his sorrows are beyond speech so much so that not a single point can be expressed (although he goes on to list them) but offers the service of his spirit to Emelye. His lament is made more formal by anaphora, repetition of "Allas" at the start and middle of the lines and the stress is on his own suffering for which he seems to blame her. Emelye is clearly innocent since she barely knew he existed; it was his choice to suffer so long for her, to die for her, and therefore to part company from her. He calls her "wyf" which is tragically ironic but not an error; in Boccaccio there is a a form of wedding ceremony after the lists. Despite her complete passivity, he accuses her of being "endere of my lyf!" A bleak general view of human life is introduced by rhetorical questions to draw in the audience but sees man's existence as prone to sudden vicissitudes: "Now [one minute] with his love, now in his colde grave." The line "Allone, withouten any compaignye" is emotive and yet common in the literature of the time as Chaucer uses it elsewhere (in The Miller's Tale). We can overlook the fact he has never been with Emelye whilst we dwell on this portrayal of life as moving from one extreme to another for no reason and with no attention to a person's merit. Oxymoron in the phrase "my sweet foo" summarises his feeling for her as object of desire and yet an enemy who has caused his literal death rather than the metaphorical dying in the courtly love ethic and he begs her to embrace him. This is a moving moment, despite all, and the Knight here shows skill and control in his narration.
Arcite acknowledges the strife and biterness between himself and Palamon in the past over their love for her and because of his jealousy. He calls upon Jupiter for guidance and to speak with propriety about his rival, a servant of love, as far as true lovers are concerned, with all the "circumstances" [attributes] proper to them: these are "trouthe" [a strong word meaning fidelity to one's pledge], honour, knighthood, wisdom, humility, rank, "heigh kinrede" [noble relations], freedom or magnaminity and everything that belongs to the art of love. These are the attributes commonly associated with the courtly lover but we have not seen them all demonstrated in this version of the story. He asks Jupiter to protect his soul but we note the contrast between the callous and petty arguments of the gods and the human capacity for forgiveneness and generosity as he states there is no one so worthy of Emelye's love (were she to marry) as Palamon, the "gentil" man [noble in rank and behaviour] who will serve the chief of gods for ever. The old comradeship or amicitia has returned between men as the quarrels and conflicting promises of the gods are played out as a kind of divine chess game: Mars, Venus and Diana have different aims and the destructive Saturn is in charge of the resolution. Arcite is showing himself more liberal and "gentil" than the powers who rule over him: he is impotent against them but morally superior.
The first part of the account of the end of Arcite is told with genuine pathos and just sufficient detail to move the listener to sympathy and sorrow as his speech fails and the cold of death moves upwards from his feet to his chest and overcomes him, "And yet mooreover for" [and all the more because] the vital strength in his arms is lost. The intellect "withouten moore" [on its own], believed to dwell in the heart now painful and ailing, fails when the heart also gives out. Although his eyes cloud over and his breath is no longer, he looks at Emelye and his last words are "Mercy, Emelye!" as his soul changes dwelling place. At this point bathos lowers the mood as the Knight says he cannot explain where the spirit went : "As I cam nevere, I kan nat tellen wher" and the tone lapses. He stops and admits he is no "divinistre" [theologian] and cannot find anything about souls "in this registre" [in his book]. Nor does he wish to tell of the opinions of theologians even if they do state where souls dwell and he moves on, dismissing Arcite as "colde" and leaving his soul to the guidance of Mars in order to speak about Emelye. Boccaccio mentions Mercury and so this is a last irony in that Mars has not helped Arcite yet and may not do so. There may be some sly humour in these lines directed at theologians as it is obvious that the Knight is not alone in never having visited the resting place of souls and that anyone who attempts a philosophy about it must be doing so from lack of personal experience. However, in Boccaccio, we are told that Arcite's spirit ascends to the eighth sphere of the heavens (a reference to which Chaucer makes at the end of Troilus and Criseyde concerning the death of Troilus) and so Chaucer must be stressing the Knight's ignorance in order to show how he cannot control tone and register as well as to avoid Christian references.
Emelye shrieks and Palamon howls, exaggerated responses which may have seemed more appropriate to a contemporary audience than to us in that those words may have been more dignified and the reactions part of the accepted formalisation of external and extreme emotion. Theseus catches Emelye, his sister-in-law, immediately as she faints and carries her away from the corpse. The Knight, having created powerful feelings, dismisses them with occupatio by refusing to spend a whole day describing her weeping from morn till night, thus casting scorn on those who do such accounts at length. This unchivalrous lack of sympathy is finalised by a sententia stating that women in general have such sorrow when their husbands die that they mourn deeply or fall ill and certainly die. The tone and sentiments here are amiss as the Knight is telling a story in which the apparently grieving Emelye lives and marries Palamon, not having cared much for Arcite in the first place. Chaucer's irony must be intentional here and leads us to feel that the Knight does not fully understand the effect his narration has on his audience as the pilgrims would surely notice the discrepancies.
Equally exaggerated and extreme are the sorrowful reactions of the people, young and old, but excessive displays of heightened emotion were more usual in medieval literature than ours and comparisons to classical events, particularly from the Trojan war, were a means of underlining their elevation. There had been great grief when the Trojan hero warrior, Hector, was killled by Achilles and this reference raises the status of Arcite. Whiever way we interpret this hyberbolic demonstration we cannot fail to realise that Theseus' original decision has caused widespread suffering, even if the Knight fails to recognise the irony. The people scratch their cheeks and tear their hair and the women cry out to ask the reason for his death in a question of which the modern equivalent would be: "Why did you have to die?" Yet the mention of gold first and Emelye second casts doubts on the sentiments as she seems an afterthought to money as a reason to stay alive. Theseus himself cannot be cheered - another irony since he caused the misery by his decree - except by his father Egeus, who knows the world's "transmutacioun" as he has seen matters change for the better and for the worse: "Joye after wo, and wo after gladnesse" and is presented as a philosopher figure in his knowledge and experience. This accords with the view of life in the Tale which has, as a theme, the inevitable vicissitudes of human existence in love and war. He is heralded as pronouncing examples and analogies but these are, unfortunately, what can only be described as banal platitudes at such a moment. His words are mere folk wisdom and lower the register from any elevation that has been achieved as he points out that every man who dies has lived and that no-one lives who does not die at some time. It is possible that these homely observations would have general appeal in their near meaninglessness but the wiser members of his audience would have smiled. He then hits a more serious note which, again, summarises the mood of the Tale: "This world nis but a thurghfare ful of wo .. " and the comparison of all human beings to pilgrims would have engaged his audience of real pilgrims. Death is an end to every wordly suffering, he says, and adds much more to the same effect, which the Knight wisely omits, but which are intended to bring comfort. We do wonder what more he might have said without becoming a comically verbose mouthpiece of mundane cliches.
Theseus now sets about organising the funeral of Arcite "with al his bisy cure" [diligent care] considering, "caste", where would be the best place for it and finally he comes to the "conclusioun" [judgement] that it would be appropriate to hold it in the grove where he found them fighting. There follows a moving, lengthy and slow description of the preparation for the pyre somewhat undermined if we recall how Theseus disapproved of the combat and arranged for the catastrophic tournament instead. There is constant attention to ritual, rank and ceremony but the mention of the earlier passions makes us realise that these routines cover uncontrollable emotions and yet the Knight is obsessed by the apparent imposition of order on chaos. The leitmotif of fire in both metaphorical and literal senses returns as the funeral "office" [rites] involve a pyre. Theseus gives orders for the hacking down and hewing of old oaks, which are laid out in a row, in pieces so that they will burn. The officials run and ride at his commands and Theseus sends for a bier to be spread with cloth of gold, the richest available, and has Arcite dressed in the same with white gloves, a coronet of laurel and a bright sharp sword in his hand. The cool colours and the simplicity of the diction and lexis here are genuinely poignant and the calm description is full of pathos as we visualise Arcite with bare face waiting for the stack of wood to be lit for his funeral fire, an ironic reminder of the burning desires of love that caused this early death. We also recall the meaningless incident which brought about his death and was not related to his skill as a fighter nor his devotion to Mars. Theseus weeps so much that it is pitiful to hear him but there is an ambiguity in the motive as he does it for effect, "for that the peple sholde seen him all" and, presumably, not blame him for his part in the matter and there is then general crying and noise as he is brought to the hall. The human ritual is set against a background of ungovernable emotions, rash decisions bringing further widespread grief, strife amongst the gods and the overall power of Saturn, the malign influence.
Palamon mourns and this fact is formalised by a stylised description of his appearance: "flotery" [disordered] beard, "ruggy, asshy heeres" [rough, ash-covered hair], and black clothes which are sprinkled with tears. Emelye outdoes everyone in weeping (ironic since she scarcely knew him) and is the "rewefulleste" [saddest] of the company. So that the service should be more noble and rich in its type, appropriate to Arcite's rank, Theseus has three steeds brought out which have trappings of glittering steel, covered with his arms. The appearance of Palamon is traditionally disordered and the rest of the ceremony is intended to impose order and dignity on a situation ruled by Saturn who has caused great chaos in the past. On the huge white horses ride people of whom one bears Arcite's shield, another his spear and another his Turkish bow, which would have been distinctively curved and richly ornamented, with gold quiver and trappings. We note again the Knight's obsession with wealth, display and ritual whilst he ignores the irony of the fact that Arcite's death was the result of a bizarre intervention by Saturn, not by use of similar military weapons. They move "a paas" [at walking pace] with sorrowful "cheere" [ bearing] towards the grove, which the Knight promises to speak of further - and does.
The bier is carried by the noblest Greeks on their shoulders "With slakke paas" [slow pace] and wet, red eyes, through the city by the main street which is spread with black to a great height and the street is also covered similarly. The pace of this account is as controlled as their progress and the mood is evoked skilfully, even though we may feel it is ironically excessive since everyone wanted the contest. Egeus is on the right and Theseus opposite to ensure symmetry, carrying vessels ful of honey, milk, blood and wine: much energy and planning is going into the noble and formalised ceremony after the chaos of the tournament. Palamon is followed by the "woful" Emelye with fire in her hand as was customary at that time. The fire leitmotif returns with the reminder of the classical period after the anachronism of the medievalisation of the combat.
"Heigh labour" [noble activity] and great "apparaillinge" [preparation] accompany the service and the making of the pyre which reaches, by hyperbole, to heaven with its height. The sides spread out twenty fathoms, an impressive statistic weakened by the bathos of the explanation: "This is to seyn, the bowes were so brode": the Knight has a pedantic streak which often undermines his elevated effects. The first layer is straw in many loads but there follows a famous example of false occupatio, whereby the Knight says he will not describe the pyre but then proceeds to do so at considerable length: At line 2066, some way into the account, he claims that the names of the trees "will nat be toold for me" and repeats this refusal with spread-out anaphora or repetition at the start of many lines of "Ne how". The device is sophisticated and effective as it reassures the audience that he will not ramble but also includes the formalised account, conventional in medieval and classical poetry, of lists of trees. This description is longer in Boccaccio but this shorter version (46 lines) would have been admired as a virtuoso use of the rhetorical device. The list is long: oak, fir, birch, aspen, alder, holm-oak, poplar, willow, elm, plane, box, "chasteyn" [chestnut], linden, laurel, maple, thorn, beech, hazel, yew and "whippeltree" [dogwood.] This brings some of the freshness and innocence of the countryside into a tale of irrational human and divine passions and events, though it is ironic that the tress are dead and will be burned for a corpse. With a sense of period we are told - or not told - how the gods are turned from their peaceful, restful habitations and roam up and down (this has an echo of Emelye earlier) and also the nymphs, hamadryads [tree gods], fauns [half man, half goat] and animals and birds flee for fear when the wood is chopped. This is the cinematographic technique of which Chaucer is master and which is apparent in the first lines of the General Prologue when his camera eye focuses and zooms in on small pictorial movements whilst panning around. Yet the Knight, whose voice is controlled by Chaucer, seems to take pleasure in the disruption and the sense of power over little living things shown here. He appears to enjoy the feeling of terror.
The ground itself is aghast at the light, as it is not accustomed to the bright sun and the deceptive occupatio continues with the apparent refusal to describe the laying of straw, the next layers of dry sticks split into three, the green wood and spices, the cloth of gold and jewels, and garlands with many flowers, myrrh and powerfully scented incense. The rhetorical device is particularly effective as the illusion of pace and passing over unnecessary data is accompanied by expert detail and knowledge of how such ritual would have been conducted. "Ne how" is repeated many times to claim that the narrator will not tell us of the richness surrounding the body of Arcite nor of the role of Emelye in starting the ceremonial funeral fire (note the stress again on pagan rites not medievalisation: "as was the gyse" [custom]) and fainting when the fire blazes, a formalised expression of extreme emotion, ironical because she had no feelings for him when alive. Her speeches are not given nor are her inner desires and we feel this is, unfortunately, only too true as she has been externalised, passive and wooden throughout. When men throw jewels into the fire at its fiercest, we should remember that, although the Knight is fascinated by wealth even when it is destroyed, there were those who disapproved of such waste and some of the pilgrims might have also been critical. Some observers throw in their shields, spears, clothing or cups of wine, milk and blood and the fire burns as if it were mad, a sudden disconcerting detail as if the pyre were personified and insane. Not everything here is under human domination. We are, seemingly, not to be told how the Greeks in a huge troop, ride three times leftward round the fire, shouting, and rattling their spears three times whilst the ladies cry out three times. The ritual note in the repetition of three is dominant before Emelye is led home and Arcite burnt to cold ashes. It was the custom to stay awake all night after the funeral but Chaucer fuses two customs when he speaks of the "lyche-wake" [funeral wake] as in classical times there would have been games and in medieval times the watch might be interrupted by games. He says he will not tell us about the best naked wrestler, anointed with oil, nor the most adept perfomer who avoided difficulties but here the tone becomes more abrupt as if the Knight is tiring of his extended use of the delusion of his occupatio and genuinely wants to move on. "When he says "And maken of my longe tale an ends" he risks losing whatever effects of apparent abbreviation he has achieved and reminds us that this has been a substantial narrative. Lack of control over tone and the effect such lapses may have on his listeners are his major flaws as a narrator and Chaucer seems to want us to notice this.
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In the account of the suffering of the severely wounded Arcite, the Knight shows once more his love of medical and gruesome details with disregard for the sensiblities of some of the pilgrims: it is as though he cannot resist dwelling on gory matters he knows from experience. Arcite's chest swells and the "soore" [pain] increases at his heart. "Lechecraft" [medical skill] is powerless to help with the "clothered" [clotted] blood which corrupts where it is left in the "bouk" [body] and "veine-blood" [blood-letting, opening veins to let the blood run out], "ventusinge" [cupping, placing a vacuum over a nearby part to remove blood from the affected area] and herbal potions do not afford relief. This lengthy account reminds us that the intervention of Saturn has taken no regard for the misery of men and is callously careless of human suffering. The gods are unsympathetic. The cold and technical description continues with the Knight's showing clinical knowledge of current theory: the animal virtue is one of three and controls the action of the muscles, including those involved in breathing which are used to expel impurities from the natural virtue through the lungs but Arcite's lungs are damaged and poisons collect in them to cause his death. No detail is spared to tell the listeners that the tubes of his lungs swell and every "lacerte" [muscle] in his chest is "shent" [damaged] with poison and corruption. Nothing helps to save him, not vomiting upwards nor laxatives downwards since everything is damaged. This is a banal and crude report which the Knight tries to salvage by a more sensitive summary: "Nature hath now no dominacioun," before adding a homely sententia, probably a proverb, stating that where Nature does not work, one might as well say: "Farewel phisik! go ber the man to chirche!" This changes the register agan as it is couched in everyday language and dismisses the suffering by its tone. No further sympathy is given in the blunt: "This al and som" [this is the long and short of it] and the narrator is brusque in the mention of Arcite who "moot die."
He sends for Palamon and Emelye and this is the first meeting of Arcite with his beloved face-to-face, a fact which points up the irony in the courtly love situation where he is dying for a woman he had never truly encountered. He claims that his sorrows are beyond speech so much so that not a single point can be expressed (although he goes on to list them) but offers the service of his spirit to Emelye. His lament is made more formal by anaphora, repetition of "Allas" at the start and middle of the lines and the stress is on his own suffering for which he seems to blame her. Emelye is clearly innocent since she barely knew he existed; it was his choice to suffer so long for her, to die for her, and therefore to part company from her. He calls her "wyf" which is tragically ironic but not an error; in Boccaccio there is a a form of wedding ceremony after the lists. Despite her complete passivity, he accuses her of being "endere of my lyf!" A bleak general view of human life is introduced by rhetorical questions to draw in the audience but sees man's existence as prone to sudden vicissitudes: "Now [one minute] with his love, now in his colde grave." The line "Allone, withouten any compaignye" is emotive and yet common in the literature of the time as Chaucer uses it elsewhere (in The Miller's Tale). We can overlook the fact he has never been with Emelye whilst we dwell on this portrayal of life as moving from one extreme to another for no reason and with no attention to a person's merit. Oxymoron in the phrase "my sweet foo" summarises his feeling for her as object of desire and yet an enemy who has caused his literal death rather than the metaphorical dying in the courtly love ethic and he begs her to embrace him. This is a moving moment, despite all, and the Knight here shows skill and control in his narration.
Arcite acknowledges the strife and biterness between himself and Palamon in the past over their love for her and because of his jealousy. He calls upon Jupiter for guidance and to speak with propriety about his rival, a servant of love, as far as true lovers are concerned, with all the "circumstances" [attributes] proper to them: these are "trouthe" [a strong word meaning fidelity to one's pledge], honour, knighthood, wisdom, humility, rank, "heigh kinrede" [noble relations], freedom or magnaminity and everything that belongs to the art of love. These are the attributes commonly associated with the courtly lover but we have not seen them all demonstrated in this version of the story. He asks Jupiter to protect his soul but we note the contrast between the callous and petty arguments of the gods and the human capacity for forgiveneness and generosity as he states there is no one so worthy of Emelye's love (were she to marry) as Palamon, the "gentil" man [noble in rank and behaviour] who will serve the chief of gods for ever. The old comradeship or amicitia has returned between men as the quarrels and conflicting promises of the gods are played out as a kind of divine chess game: Mars, Venus and Diana have different aims and the destructive Saturn is in charge of the resolution. Arcite is showing himself more liberal and "gentil" than the powers who rule over him: he is impotent against them but morally superior.
The first part of the account of the end of Arcite is told with genuine pathos and just sufficient detail to move the listener to sympathy and sorrow as his speech fails and the cold of death moves upwards from his feet to his chest and overcomes him, "And yet mooreover for" [and all the more because] the vital strength in his arms is lost. The intellect "withouten moore" [on its own], believed to dwell in the heart now painful and ailing, fails when the heart also gives out. Although his eyes cloud over and his breath is no longer, he looks at Emelye and his last words are "Mercy, Emelye!" as his soul changes dwelling place. At this point bathos lowers the mood as the Knight says he cannot explain where the spirit went : "As I cam nevere, I kan nat tellen wher" and the tone lapses. He stops and admits he is no "divinistre" [theologian] and cannot find anything about souls "in this registre" [in his book]. Nor does he wish to tell of the opinions of theologians even if they do state where souls dwell and he moves on, dismissing Arcite as "colde" and leaving his soul to the guidance of Mars in order to speak about Emelye. Boccaccio mentions Mercury and so this is a last irony in that Mars has not helped Arcite yet and may not do so. There may be some sly humour in these lines directed at theologians as it is obvious that the Knight is not alone in never having visited the resting place of souls and that anyone who attempts a philosophy about it must be doing so from lack of personal experience. However, in Boccaccio, we are told that Arcite's spirit ascends to the eighth sphere of the heavens (a reference to which Chaucer makes at the end of Troilus and Criseyde concerning the death of Troilus) and so Chaucer must be stressing the Knight's ignorance in order to show how he cannot control tone and register as well as to avoid Christian references.
Emelye shrieks and Palamon howls, exaggerated responses which may have seemed more appropriate to a contemporary audience than to us in that those words may have been more dignified and the reactions part of the accepted formalisation of external and extreme emotion. Theseus catches Emelye, his sister-in-law, immediately as she faints and carries her away from the corpse. The Knight, having created powerful feelings, dismisses them with occupatio by refusing to spend a whole day describing her weeping from morn till night, thus casting scorn on those who do such accounts at length. This unchivalrous lack of sympathy is finalised by a sententia stating that women in general have such sorrow when their husbands die that they mourn deeply or fall ill and certainly die. The tone and sentiments here are amiss as the Knight is telling a story in which the apparently grieving Emelye lives and marries Palamon, not having cared much for Arcite in the first place. Chaucer's irony must be intentional here and leads us to feel that the Knight does not fully understand the effect his narration has on his audience as the pilgrims would surely notice the discrepancies.
Equally exaggerated and extreme are the sorrowful reactions of the people, young and old, but excessive displays of heightened emotion were more usual in medieval literature than ours and comparisons to classical events, particularly from the Trojan war, were a means of underlining their elevation. There had been great grief when the Trojan hero warrior, Hector, was killled by Achilles and this reference raises the status of Arcite. Whiever way we interpret this hyberbolic demonstration we cannot fail to realise that Theseus' original decision has caused widespread suffering, even if the Knight fails to recognise the irony. The people scratch their cheeks and tear their hair and the women cry out to ask the reason for his death in a question of which the modern equivalent would be: "Why did you have to die?" Yet the mention of gold first and Emelye second casts doubts on the sentiments as she seems an afterthought to money as a reason to stay alive. Theseus himself cannot be cheered - another irony since he caused the misery by his decree - except by his father Egeus, who knows the world's "transmutacioun" as he has seen matters change for the better and for the worse: "Joye after wo, and wo after gladnesse" and is presented as a philosopher figure in his knowledge and experience. This accords with the view of life in the Tale which has, as a theme, the inevitable vicissitudes of human existence in love and war. He is heralded as pronouncing examples and analogies but these are, unfortunately, what can only be described as banal platitudes at such a moment. His words are mere folk wisdom and lower the register from any elevation that has been achieved as he points out that every man who dies has lived and that no-one lives who does not die at some time. It is possible that these homely observations would have general appeal in their near meaninglessness but the wiser members of his audience would have smiled. He then hits a more serious note which, again, summarises the mood of the Tale: "This world nis but a thurghfare ful of wo .. " and the comparison of all human beings to pilgrims would have engaged his audience of real pilgrims. Death is an end to every wordly suffering, he says, and adds much more to the same effect, which the Knight wisely omits, but which are intended to bring comfort. We do wonder what more he might have said without becoming a comically verbose mouthpiece of mundane cliches.
Theseus now sets about organising the funeral of Arcite "with al his bisy cure" [diligent care] considering, "caste", where would be the best place for it and finally he comes to the "conclusioun" [judgement] that it would be appropriate to hold it in the grove where he found them fighting. There follows a moving, lengthy and slow description of the preparation for the pyre somewhat undermined if we recall how Theseus disapproved of the combat and arranged for the catastrophic tournament instead. There is constant attention to ritual, rank and ceremony but the mention of the earlier passions makes us realise that these routines cover uncontrollable emotions and yet the Knight is obsessed by the apparent imposition of order on chaos. The leitmotif of fire in both metaphorical and literal senses returns as the funeral "office" [rites] involve a pyre. Theseus gives orders for the hacking down and hewing of old oaks, which are laid out in a row, in pieces so that they will burn. The officials run and ride at his commands and Theseus sends for a bier to be spread with cloth of gold, the richest available, and has Arcite dressed in the same with white gloves, a coronet of laurel and a bright sharp sword in his hand. The cool colours and the simplicity of the diction and lexis here are genuinely poignant and the calm description is full of pathos as we visualise Arcite with bare face waiting for the stack of wood to be lit for his funeral fire, an ironic reminder of the burning desires of love that caused this early death. We also recall the meaningless incident which brought about his death and was not related to his skill as a fighter nor his devotion to Mars. Theseus weeps so much that it is pitiful to hear him but there is an ambiguity in the motive as he does it for effect, "for that the peple sholde seen him all" and, presumably, not blame him for his part in the matter and there is then general crying and noise as he is brought to the hall. The human ritual is set against a background of ungovernable emotions, rash decisions bringing further widespread grief, strife amongst the gods and the overall power of Saturn, the malign influence.
Palamon mourns and this fact is formalised by a stylised description of his appearance: "flotery" [disordered] beard, "ruggy, asshy heeres" [rough, ash-covered hair], and black clothes which are sprinkled with tears. Emelye outdoes everyone in weeping (ironic since she scarcely knew him) and is the "rewefulleste" [saddest] of the company. So that the service should be more noble and rich in its type, appropriate to Arcite's rank, Theseus has three steeds brought out which have trappings of glittering steel, covered with his arms. The appearance of Palamon is traditionally disordered and the rest of the ceremony is intended to impose order and dignity on a situation ruled by Saturn who has caused great chaos in the past. On the huge white horses ride people of whom one bears Arcite's shield, another his spear and another his Turkish bow, which would have been distinctively curved and richly ornamented, with gold quiver and trappings. We note again the Knight's obsession with wealth, display and ritual whilst he ignores the irony of the fact that Arcite's death was the result of a bizarre intervention by Saturn, not by use of similar military weapons. They move "a paas" [at walking pace] with sorrowful "cheere" [ bearing] towards the grove, which the Knight promises to speak of further - and does.
The bier is carried by the noblest Greeks on their shoulders "With slakke paas" [slow pace] and wet, red eyes, through the city by the main street which is spread with black to a great height and the street is also covered similarly. The pace of this account is as controlled as their progress and the mood is evoked skilfully, even though we may feel it is ironically excessive since everyone wanted the contest. Egeus is on the right and Theseus opposite to ensure symmetry, carrying vessels ful of honey, milk, blood and wine: much energy and planning is going into the noble and formalised ceremony after the chaos of the tournament. Palamon is followed by the "woful" Emelye with fire in her hand as was customary at that time. The fire leitmotif returns with the reminder of the classical period after the anachronism of the medievalisation of the combat.
"Heigh labour" [noble activity] and great "apparaillinge" [preparation] accompany the service and the making of the pyre which reaches, by hyperbole, to heaven with its height. The sides spread out twenty fathoms, an impressive statistic weakened by the bathos of the explanation: "This is to seyn, the bowes were so brode": the Knight has a pedantic streak which often undermines his elevated effects. The first layer is straw in many loads but there follows a famous example of false occupatio, whereby the Knight says he will not describe the pyre but then proceeds to do so at considerable length: At line 2066, some way into the account, he claims that the names of the trees "will nat be toold for me" and repeats this refusal with spread-out anaphora or repetition at the start of many lines of "Ne how". The device is sophisticated and effective as it reassures the audience that he will not ramble but also includes the formalised account, conventional in medieval and classical poetry, of lists of trees. This description is longer in Boccaccio but this shorter version (46 lines) would have been admired as a virtuoso use of the rhetorical device. The list is long: oak, fir, birch, aspen, alder, holm-oak, poplar, willow, elm, plane, box, "chasteyn" [chestnut], linden, laurel, maple, thorn, beech, hazel, yew and "whippeltree" [dogwood.] This brings some of the freshness and innocence of the countryside into a tale of irrational human and divine passions and events, though it is ironic that the tress are dead and will be burned for a corpse. With a sense of period we are told - or not told - how the gods are turned from their peaceful, restful habitations and roam up and down (this has an echo of Emelye earlier) and also the nymphs, hamadryads [tree gods], fauns [half man, half goat] and animals and birds flee for fear when the wood is chopped. This is the cinematographic technique of which Chaucer is master and which is apparent in the first lines of the General Prologue when his camera eye focuses and zooms in on small pictorial movements whilst panning around. Yet the Knight, whose voice is controlled by Chaucer, seems to take pleasure in the disruption and the sense of power over little living things shown here. He appears to enjoy the feeling of terror.
The ground itself is aghast at the light, as it is not accustomed to the bright sun and the deceptive occupatio continues with the apparent refusal to describe the laying of straw, the next layers of dry sticks split into three, the green wood and spices, the cloth of gold and jewels, and garlands with many flowers, myrrh and powerfully scented incense. The rhetorical device is particularly effective as the illusion of pace and passing over unnecessary data is accompanied by expert detail and knowledge of how such ritual would have been conducted. "Ne how" is repeated many times to claim that the narrator will not tell us of the richness surrounding the body of Arcite nor of the role of Emelye in starting the ceremonial funeral fire (note the stress again on pagan rites not medievalisation: "as was the gyse" [custom]) and fainting when the fire blazes, a formalised expression of extreme emotion, ironical because she had no feelings for him when alive. Her speeches are not given nor are her inner desires and we feel this is, unfortunately, only too true as she has been externalised, passive and wooden throughout. When men throw jewels into the fire at its fiercest, we should remember that, although the Knight is fascinated by wealth even when it is destroyed, there were those who disapproved of such waste and some of the pilgrims might have also been critical. Some observers throw in their shields, spears, clothing or cups of wine, milk and blood and the fire burns as if it were mad, a sudden disconcerting detail as if the pyre were personified and insane. Not everything here is under human domination. We are, seemingly, not to be told how the Greeks in a huge troop, ride three times leftward round the fire, shouting, and rattling their spears three times whilst the ladies cry out three times. The ritual note in the repetition of three is dominant before Emelye is led home and Arcite burnt to cold ashes. It was the custom to stay awake all night after the funeral but Chaucer fuses two customs when he speaks of the "lyche-wake" [funeral wake] as in classical times there would have been games and in medieval times the watch might be interrupted by games. He says he will not tell us about the best naked wrestler, anointed with oil, nor the most adept perfomer who avoided difficulties but here the tone becomes more abrupt as if the Knight is tiring of his extended use of the delusion of his occupatio and genuinely wants to move on. "When he says "And maken of my longe tale an ends" he risks losing whatever effects of apparent abbreviation he has achieved and reminds us that this has been a substantial narrative. Lack of control over tone and the effect such lapses may have on his listeners are his major flaws as a narrator and Chaucer seems to want us to notice this.
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