The Knight's Tale page 9 lines 2109 ff
"By processe" [in the course of time] and after some years, the mourning and tears of the Greeks cease, another hyperbolic and extreme view of the emotions, but this is, almost comically, by agreement. The mood has changed and the Knight also abandons complete authorial omniscience in "Thanne semed me", a device to make the story seem more real and himself an onlooker, when he speaks of the "parlement" [assembly] to discuss certain points and events. The public and political aspects are combined as a result of the personal, as an alliance is planned so that Thebes will be in submission, "obeisaunce". Briskly and without emotion, the Knight tells us that Theseus sends for the "gentil" [noble] Palamon without his knowing why but he obeys and arrives, still in black clothes and looking sorrowful, and Emelye also attends the council. When all is set and the place hushed, Theseus has a chance to speak but, before any word issues from his "wise brest", he sets his gaze as pleases him and "siked stille" [sighs quietly]. After this small theatrical display, he speaks his will in what commentators often refer to as the "First Mover" speech.
The first thirty lines of this are not in Boccaccio and are largely ideas taken from Boethius' De Consolatione, but the speech cannot be taken as a direct lecture from this work as there are important differences. It does seem to be in answer to Palamon's philosophy at the end of Part I saying now that everything that seemed like blind Fortune is, in fact Providence, but Terry Jones has argued that Theseus, via the Knight and Chaucer, has produced a travesty of Boethius. This must be intentional on the part of Chaucer who translated Boethius' treatise. (Terry Jones' contention is worth reading in full as it is too long to be paraphrased here.) The "First Mover" speech is a very long one in which the argument starts quite strongly but disintegrates and becomes rambling and illogical. It is triggered by the death of Arcite but moves into the general and confusedly abstract before closing in on the ultimate political motive, a marriage between Palamon and Emelye. We can no longer take it as did previous critics as being the ultimate philosophical climax to the Tale as discrepancies and inconsistencies undermine that claim. There are phrases and concepts from Boethius but the whole does not reproduce his philosophy.
To Theseus, the First Mover, or originator, is Jupiter whose will controls everything, making resistance futile, but we know it is Saturn who decided this particular outcome. Boethius says we must strive to shape Fortune although acceptance of adversity is important. Nevertheless, only by working at bringing about good can we move beyond the vicissitudes of Fortune. He distinguishes between two aspects: Providence, which is connected to love, happiness and God and makes sense of life; and Fate, which is day-to-day chances which may make no sense. He believes in regeneration: Fate may cause death but Providence allows renewal. Reputation is not important in this philosophy. This is an oversimpification but serves to show how the Knight's view, expressed through Theseus, is inadequate.
The Knight opens with the image of a chain of love and stresses the great "effect" [outcome] and "heigh ... entente" [exalted plan] involved. The balance of this line and the alliteration in the next give it confidence. This original force knew what it was doing but, when the metaphor of the chain is repeated in the same words: "faire cheyne of love" it seems to add to the prison theme apparent in the Tale rather than refer to love and the impression in the rest of the speech reinforces this. We are not convinced that this universe is benevolent, particularly after the events we have heard recounted. Fire, earth, water and land are under this control and cannot escape. Theseus also emphasises the second sense of Fortune rather than Providence when he states that the world is "wrecched" and certain numbers of days and periods are laid down for all with limits that they cannot move beyond even though life may be shortened. The harshness of life is dominant throughout the speech. Theseus dismisses the citing of authorities or other texts to add credence to his views, a rash denial, and praises experience as proof. This would have appeared arrogant to the pilgrims (and, in the case of the Wife of Bath, it would have been felt to be comic) and he goes on to say he will make his "sentence" [meaning] clear, thus claiming authority himself over this deeply philosphical issue. He also states that everyone knows from the order around them that the First Mover is eternal and stable and, unless a man is a fool (note again the high-handed tone) he will see that every part derives from the whole to which it belongs, since nature did not begin from any small "cantel" [portion] but is complete and unchanging although descending into corruptibility. This section may seem either meaningless or unconvincing. The First Mover, wisely, has ordered it so that kinds of things ("speces" is a term in medieval philosophy) and those proceeding from sources endure by following each other on and are not eternal in themselves. He keeps saying that anyone can see this "at ye" [at a glance] even when he is not making his meaning entirely clear.
He then gives a list of exempla of mutability which turns Boethius' examples upside down (see Boccaccio) as he shows that the oak, stones, river and towns fail to survive when Boethius used them to show that they are part of the harmony and are preserved. The oak is a homely reference and well-described in itself, (reminding us of Egeus' folk wisdom earlier) with the brief life history ending in the tree's being "wasted" [destroyed], a powerful moment when we recall the trees used in the funeral pyre. The stones also evoke wastage as does the river which "wexeth dreye" and the great towns which we watch diminishing and passing away. There is no sense of renewal here and the feeling of the passing of everything from lowly stones to huge towns is powerfully evoked - yet it is not what Boethius said. Theseus implies that future generations are there merely to die in their turn. Mankind too must perish in one period of life (he defines this as in youth or age with a note of bathos) and, when he gives instances, we recall the deeds of Saturn causing dire accidents, some people dying in bed, some in the deep sea and some on the "large feeld" [probably battle field which takes the listener back to the combat]. Nothing can help as everything goes the same way and he summarises: "Thanne may I seyn that al this thing moot die". In Boethius, the First Mover represents love and there is renewal through the next generation. Here they are replaced in order to die. The Knight's harsh experiences of life have led to a profound pessimism, expressed by Theseus. The change is almost certainly deliberate as Chaucer translated De Consolatione. Jupiter has converted all things to "his propre welle" [its own proper source] and the Knight questions this but only as a rhetorical question: "sooth [truth] to telle?" The gap between Boethius and Theseus widens as he states there is no point in anyone's striving no matter what their rank is "here-agains" [against this]. If we accept that Theseus has elements of the tyrant in his behaviour, we see that this is an order for complete submission to his own will, which is, at the moment, for a marriage of political convenience between Palamon and Emelye, nothing to do with love.
From these somewhat confused philosophical musings, Theseus moves on to the pragamatic: he has asserted the rule of order and therefore inevitability but now abandons his muddled attempt to make sense of the universe, concentrating instead on how to survive. It seems wise to him, as it would to a tyrant, to have his inferiors make a virtue of necessity but we note that the opposite of wisdom is folly not virtue. By anaphora, he repeats "And" at the start of lines, emphasising the duty of his subjects to obey and tolerate what cannot be avoided "namely" [especially] that which is due to us all: death. Anyone who "grucceth" [complains] is foolish and a rebel to the power that "al may gye" [guides all] - which is beginning to sound like Theseus himself. He feels that it is best for a man to die in his prime when his reputation is at its height, although Boethius discounted reputation and thought only fools rushed after glory. Theseus' claim excuses him from having caused the death of a young man and explains why there was such elevated and wasteful ceremony in Arcite's honour. By dying young a man can avoid doing himself or his friend dishonour and his comrade ought to be glad of his death - a preposterous claim when considered further. It does not make Arcite's death any less meaningless to claim that his honour has been saved and that this is better than to have his name "apalled" [dimmed] by age and his "vassellage" [prowess] forgotten. If Theseus were right and sincere we would have to ask why there was so much weeping and wailing, orchestrated by him, for Arcite's premature death. It is totally inconsistent.
Theseus goes on to state that to contradict this or act against it is mere wilfulness and that his listeners should not complain or feel heavy misery that Arcite, the flower of chivalry, has departed with duty and honour and left behind him the prison of life. This sense of the world and life as jails has dominated the Tale in both reality and imagery and reaches a climax in this final assertion. Yet we cannot help but recall that Theseus organised the mourning and did not stint on the expense and extent of the rituals. He does not see why anyone should grumble (the word "grucchen recurs as he tries to prevent opposition or criticism) and the funeral begins to seem a political measure to quell the people's possible complaints. Abrupty and with a brusque tone in his rhetorical question, Theseus points out that Arcite cannot thank his close mourners: "Kan he hem thank? Nay, God woot, never a deel" since they are offending his soul and himself but must obey their desires nevertheless. There is no mention of love or pity here.
He now attempts to concude his "longe serye [argument]", advising all to be cheerful and thank Jupiter for his grace. The more astute listener may wonder what there is to be grateful for and if Theseus is confusing himself with Jupiter. There is a self-consciousness in the lines and we cannot reconcile these exhortations with the brutality of the tournament and the widespread grieving he encouraged. The speech ends with a false-sounding piece of advice (the repetition of the word "rede" makes us realise that these are instructions not advice) that they must turn two sorrows, presumably those of Palamon and Emelye, into one perfect and eternal joy and start where the grief is strongest. He turns to Emelye, his sister-in-law, to persuade her to accept the "gentil" [noble] Palamon since he has served her with will, heart and strength ever since she first knew him. We wonder in what way this is true as she met him late in the story. She should have "rewe" [pity] on him and give him her grace, a word from both the courtly love ethic and Christianity, accepting him with her hand as husband and lord. She seems to have no choice in this matter of expediency for his own political ends, his designs on Thebes. He calls upon her womanly pity, a strong word and concept in contemporary thought, though one he conspicuously lacks. Palamon is royal (son to the brother of a king), both Theseus and the Knight valuing rank highly, even though Theseus says the marriage would take place even if Palamon were lowly and only a "bacheler" [trainee knight] since he has been so loyal in his long service to her. Mercy ought to surpass justice, he claims, which means ignoring the rules of the tournament in effect. His appeal to Palamon is brief and demands approval without further "sermonising" [preaching]. The Knight ignores the conflict between the harshness of the negative elements of his Tale, largely the result of the influence of the malign gods, and this imposed happy ending.
The marriage takes place between the two who are little more than puppets (though Emelye has more character in Boccaccio) in front of the council and barons and is accompanied by "blisse and melodie". The myth changes as God is brought in to send his love to the man who has paid dearly for it and Palamon lives in all "wele" [happiness], bliss, richness and well-being. The perfect marriage is made as she loves him tenderly and he serves her nobly with no jealous or angry words between them. The Knight ends by returning us to the Christian world of the pilgrims with God's blessing. His Tale is well received by the pilgrims, particularly all the nobles: "And namely the gentils everichon" as it has shown something of an idealised aristocratic world but we may have more reservations - and that reference may be ironic in that only those of higher rank approved because they liked the rich elements.
The Tale is not the courtly romance it may seem as darker and horrifying elements predominate. Further flaws are that ancient Greece is often medievalised and the philosophy is unconvincing. The characters are two-dimensional and externalised (we do not know what they think inwardly at times of crisis) and the tone and register lapse from time to time. We are left to work out for ourselves which person had his or her prayer answered - certainly not Emelye. Yet the Knight can hold an audience by his skill in pace, his control of narrative and description, his use of rhetorical devices and the power of his images even though he does not always perceive the effects he is creating. We may not agree with Terry Jones that he is a brutal mercenary but he definitely knows the underbelly of war and perhaps has come down in the world from chivalrous knight to a paid soldier representing a decline in the concepts and practice of chivalry which Chaucer is criticising as he does the corruption of the Church elsewhere in the work. Theseus' speech at the end does not refute the pessimism of the poem but the gloom is mitigated by being moved into the background even though that incurs irony. This ruler, who may be a tyrant, has shown by his pragmatism how to live in a world governed by Saturn and his philosophy does not counter the misery demonstrated throughout. The great twin themes of love and war are vitiated by the abstract and unreal nature of the love, even by contemporary conventions of the game of courtship, and the injustice of the battle. Compassion, mercy, "gentillesse", comradeship, true concern of the ruler for his people are missing and the fact that so many events take place in the apparently joyful month of May becomes darker and ironic. What is stressed is pageantry in ceremonials and there is an attempt throughout to impose symmetry and parallelism on turmoil. The dominant imagery is that of a prison, literal and metaphorical, and animals, implying that man, even at his most civilised, is bestial at base. We have seen active malice and passive suffering and nothing removes that impression. The sense at the end is that disordered passions, death and chaos as a result of blind Fortune or the malignant gods are more powerful that the rituals imposed upon them by helpless man.
To return to the Home Page click here. There is a list of other texts and a contact form. I should be glad to know if detailed analyses such as this one are helpful to you.
"By processe" [in the course of time] and after some years, the mourning and tears of the Greeks cease, another hyperbolic and extreme view of the emotions, but this is, almost comically, by agreement. The mood has changed and the Knight also abandons complete authorial omniscience in "Thanne semed me", a device to make the story seem more real and himself an onlooker, when he speaks of the "parlement" [assembly] to discuss certain points and events. The public and political aspects are combined as a result of the personal, as an alliance is planned so that Thebes will be in submission, "obeisaunce". Briskly and without emotion, the Knight tells us that Theseus sends for the "gentil" [noble] Palamon without his knowing why but he obeys and arrives, still in black clothes and looking sorrowful, and Emelye also attends the council. When all is set and the place hushed, Theseus has a chance to speak but, before any word issues from his "wise brest", he sets his gaze as pleases him and "siked stille" [sighs quietly]. After this small theatrical display, he speaks his will in what commentators often refer to as the "First Mover" speech.
The first thirty lines of this are not in Boccaccio and are largely ideas taken from Boethius' De Consolatione, but the speech cannot be taken as a direct lecture from this work as there are important differences. It does seem to be in answer to Palamon's philosophy at the end of Part I saying now that everything that seemed like blind Fortune is, in fact Providence, but Terry Jones has argued that Theseus, via the Knight and Chaucer, has produced a travesty of Boethius. This must be intentional on the part of Chaucer who translated Boethius' treatise. (Terry Jones' contention is worth reading in full as it is too long to be paraphrased here.) The "First Mover" speech is a very long one in which the argument starts quite strongly but disintegrates and becomes rambling and illogical. It is triggered by the death of Arcite but moves into the general and confusedly abstract before closing in on the ultimate political motive, a marriage between Palamon and Emelye. We can no longer take it as did previous critics as being the ultimate philosophical climax to the Tale as discrepancies and inconsistencies undermine that claim. There are phrases and concepts from Boethius but the whole does not reproduce his philosophy.
To Theseus, the First Mover, or originator, is Jupiter whose will controls everything, making resistance futile, but we know it is Saturn who decided this particular outcome. Boethius says we must strive to shape Fortune although acceptance of adversity is important. Nevertheless, only by working at bringing about good can we move beyond the vicissitudes of Fortune. He distinguishes between two aspects: Providence, which is connected to love, happiness and God and makes sense of life; and Fate, which is day-to-day chances which may make no sense. He believes in regeneration: Fate may cause death but Providence allows renewal. Reputation is not important in this philosophy. This is an oversimpification but serves to show how the Knight's view, expressed through Theseus, is inadequate.
The Knight opens with the image of a chain of love and stresses the great "effect" [outcome] and "heigh ... entente" [exalted plan] involved. The balance of this line and the alliteration in the next give it confidence. This original force knew what it was doing but, when the metaphor of the chain is repeated in the same words: "faire cheyne of love" it seems to add to the prison theme apparent in the Tale rather than refer to love and the impression in the rest of the speech reinforces this. We are not convinced that this universe is benevolent, particularly after the events we have heard recounted. Fire, earth, water and land are under this control and cannot escape. Theseus also emphasises the second sense of Fortune rather than Providence when he states that the world is "wrecched" and certain numbers of days and periods are laid down for all with limits that they cannot move beyond even though life may be shortened. The harshness of life is dominant throughout the speech. Theseus dismisses the citing of authorities or other texts to add credence to his views, a rash denial, and praises experience as proof. This would have appeared arrogant to the pilgrims (and, in the case of the Wife of Bath, it would have been felt to be comic) and he goes on to say he will make his "sentence" [meaning] clear, thus claiming authority himself over this deeply philosphical issue. He also states that everyone knows from the order around them that the First Mover is eternal and stable and, unless a man is a fool (note again the high-handed tone) he will see that every part derives from the whole to which it belongs, since nature did not begin from any small "cantel" [portion] but is complete and unchanging although descending into corruptibility. This section may seem either meaningless or unconvincing. The First Mover, wisely, has ordered it so that kinds of things ("speces" is a term in medieval philosophy) and those proceeding from sources endure by following each other on and are not eternal in themselves. He keeps saying that anyone can see this "at ye" [at a glance] even when he is not making his meaning entirely clear.
He then gives a list of exempla of mutability which turns Boethius' examples upside down (see Boccaccio) as he shows that the oak, stones, river and towns fail to survive when Boethius used them to show that they are part of the harmony and are preserved. The oak is a homely reference and well-described in itself, (reminding us of Egeus' folk wisdom earlier) with the brief life history ending in the tree's being "wasted" [destroyed], a powerful moment when we recall the trees used in the funeral pyre. The stones also evoke wastage as does the river which "wexeth dreye" and the great towns which we watch diminishing and passing away. There is no sense of renewal here and the feeling of the passing of everything from lowly stones to huge towns is powerfully evoked - yet it is not what Boethius said. Theseus implies that future generations are there merely to die in their turn. Mankind too must perish in one period of life (he defines this as in youth or age with a note of bathos) and, when he gives instances, we recall the deeds of Saturn causing dire accidents, some people dying in bed, some in the deep sea and some on the "large feeld" [probably battle field which takes the listener back to the combat]. Nothing can help as everything goes the same way and he summarises: "Thanne may I seyn that al this thing moot die". In Boethius, the First Mover represents love and there is renewal through the next generation. Here they are replaced in order to die. The Knight's harsh experiences of life have led to a profound pessimism, expressed by Theseus. The change is almost certainly deliberate as Chaucer translated De Consolatione. Jupiter has converted all things to "his propre welle" [its own proper source] and the Knight questions this but only as a rhetorical question: "sooth [truth] to telle?" The gap between Boethius and Theseus widens as he states there is no point in anyone's striving no matter what their rank is "here-agains" [against this]. If we accept that Theseus has elements of the tyrant in his behaviour, we see that this is an order for complete submission to his own will, which is, at the moment, for a marriage of political convenience between Palamon and Emelye, nothing to do with love.
From these somewhat confused philosophical musings, Theseus moves on to the pragamatic: he has asserted the rule of order and therefore inevitability but now abandons his muddled attempt to make sense of the universe, concentrating instead on how to survive. It seems wise to him, as it would to a tyrant, to have his inferiors make a virtue of necessity but we note that the opposite of wisdom is folly not virtue. By anaphora, he repeats "And" at the start of lines, emphasising the duty of his subjects to obey and tolerate what cannot be avoided "namely" [especially] that which is due to us all: death. Anyone who "grucceth" [complains] is foolish and a rebel to the power that "al may gye" [guides all] - which is beginning to sound like Theseus himself. He feels that it is best for a man to die in his prime when his reputation is at its height, although Boethius discounted reputation and thought only fools rushed after glory. Theseus' claim excuses him from having caused the death of a young man and explains why there was such elevated and wasteful ceremony in Arcite's honour. By dying young a man can avoid doing himself or his friend dishonour and his comrade ought to be glad of his death - a preposterous claim when considered further. It does not make Arcite's death any less meaningless to claim that his honour has been saved and that this is better than to have his name "apalled" [dimmed] by age and his "vassellage" [prowess] forgotten. If Theseus were right and sincere we would have to ask why there was so much weeping and wailing, orchestrated by him, for Arcite's premature death. It is totally inconsistent.
Theseus goes on to state that to contradict this or act against it is mere wilfulness and that his listeners should not complain or feel heavy misery that Arcite, the flower of chivalry, has departed with duty and honour and left behind him the prison of life. This sense of the world and life as jails has dominated the Tale in both reality and imagery and reaches a climax in this final assertion. Yet we cannot help but recall that Theseus organised the mourning and did not stint on the expense and extent of the rituals. He does not see why anyone should grumble (the word "grucchen recurs as he tries to prevent opposition or criticism) and the funeral begins to seem a political measure to quell the people's possible complaints. Abrupty and with a brusque tone in his rhetorical question, Theseus points out that Arcite cannot thank his close mourners: "Kan he hem thank? Nay, God woot, never a deel" since they are offending his soul and himself but must obey their desires nevertheless. There is no mention of love or pity here.
He now attempts to concude his "longe serye [argument]", advising all to be cheerful and thank Jupiter for his grace. The more astute listener may wonder what there is to be grateful for and if Theseus is confusing himself with Jupiter. There is a self-consciousness in the lines and we cannot reconcile these exhortations with the brutality of the tournament and the widespread grieving he encouraged. The speech ends with a false-sounding piece of advice (the repetition of the word "rede" makes us realise that these are instructions not advice) that they must turn two sorrows, presumably those of Palamon and Emelye, into one perfect and eternal joy and start where the grief is strongest. He turns to Emelye, his sister-in-law, to persuade her to accept the "gentil" [noble] Palamon since he has served her with will, heart and strength ever since she first knew him. We wonder in what way this is true as she met him late in the story. She should have "rewe" [pity] on him and give him her grace, a word from both the courtly love ethic and Christianity, accepting him with her hand as husband and lord. She seems to have no choice in this matter of expediency for his own political ends, his designs on Thebes. He calls upon her womanly pity, a strong word and concept in contemporary thought, though one he conspicuously lacks. Palamon is royal (son to the brother of a king), both Theseus and the Knight valuing rank highly, even though Theseus says the marriage would take place even if Palamon were lowly and only a "bacheler" [trainee knight] since he has been so loyal in his long service to her. Mercy ought to surpass justice, he claims, which means ignoring the rules of the tournament in effect. His appeal to Palamon is brief and demands approval without further "sermonising" [preaching]. The Knight ignores the conflict between the harshness of the negative elements of his Tale, largely the result of the influence of the malign gods, and this imposed happy ending.
The marriage takes place between the two who are little more than puppets (though Emelye has more character in Boccaccio) in front of the council and barons and is accompanied by "blisse and melodie". The myth changes as God is brought in to send his love to the man who has paid dearly for it and Palamon lives in all "wele" [happiness], bliss, richness and well-being. The perfect marriage is made as she loves him tenderly and he serves her nobly with no jealous or angry words between them. The Knight ends by returning us to the Christian world of the pilgrims with God's blessing. His Tale is well received by the pilgrims, particularly all the nobles: "And namely the gentils everichon" as it has shown something of an idealised aristocratic world but we may have more reservations - and that reference may be ironic in that only those of higher rank approved because they liked the rich elements.
The Tale is not the courtly romance it may seem as darker and horrifying elements predominate. Further flaws are that ancient Greece is often medievalised and the philosophy is unconvincing. The characters are two-dimensional and externalised (we do not know what they think inwardly at times of crisis) and the tone and register lapse from time to time. We are left to work out for ourselves which person had his or her prayer answered - certainly not Emelye. Yet the Knight can hold an audience by his skill in pace, his control of narrative and description, his use of rhetorical devices and the power of his images even though he does not always perceive the effects he is creating. We may not agree with Terry Jones that he is a brutal mercenary but he definitely knows the underbelly of war and perhaps has come down in the world from chivalrous knight to a paid soldier representing a decline in the concepts and practice of chivalry which Chaucer is criticising as he does the corruption of the Church elsewhere in the work. Theseus' speech at the end does not refute the pessimism of the poem but the gloom is mitigated by being moved into the background even though that incurs irony. This ruler, who may be a tyrant, has shown by his pragmatism how to live in a world governed by Saturn and his philosophy does not counter the misery demonstrated throughout. The great twin themes of love and war are vitiated by the abstract and unreal nature of the love, even by contemporary conventions of the game of courtship, and the injustice of the battle. Compassion, mercy, "gentillesse", comradeship, true concern of the ruler for his people are missing and the fact that so many events take place in the apparently joyful month of May becomes darker and ironic. What is stressed is pageantry in ceremonials and there is an attempt throughout to impose symmetry and parallelism on turmoil. The dominant imagery is that of a prison, literal and metaphorical, and animals, implying that man, even at his most civilised, is bestial at base. We have seen active malice and passive suffering and nothing removes that impression. The sense at the end is that disordered passions, death and chaos as a result of blind Fortune or the malignant gods are more powerful that the rituals imposed upon them by helpless man.
To return to the Home Page click here. There is a list of other texts and a contact form. I should be glad to know if detailed analyses such as this one are helpful to you.
