What struck me while reading the Knight’s Tale were the narrator’s subtle insights into the class system that may or may not reflect Chaucer’s own personal views. Most striking is the portrait of Arcite rising from the ashes of the social hierarchy and regaining an esteemed position in the kingdom. Upon being released from prison and returning to Thebes, he is so lovesick for Emelye that he decides to journey back to Athenes and disguise himself as a beggar just so he may “seen his lady wel ny day by day” (1407). When Chaucer introduces Arcite’s plan, the reader is unsuspecting of the spontaneous and somewhat unexplained way in which the former prisoner will organically achieve nobility in Athenes. However, he nonetheless performs the great achievement of “vertu” (1436), or “natural ability” as it is explained, and impresses Theseus enough to “enhauncen his degree” (1434).
This odd turn in the Knight’s Tale makes me wonder if Chaucer is commenting on the inevitability of being a citizen of the upper class. If so, his view is somewhat progressive given the period in which the Tale was written. Perhaps Chaucer uses Arcite to make a point against the idea that one can only be noble if he is born into the right family; he portrays Arcite as rising through the ranks simply because he is “gentil of condicioun” (1431), despite the fact that he is a lowly beggar. This part of the story is uplifting, as it shows that class is something that a person is born with and can achieve no matter his circumstances.
We have only read one tale thus far, but I am already beginning to get a feel for Chaucer’s modern interpretation of the world around him.
While reading the second half of the Knight’s Tale, I focused on the message the knight was trying to send to his fellow pilgrims. Much of the first half concerns chivalric values and courtly love, both of which reflect the knight’s worldview and values. The story is meant to educate the pilgrims on what they should value.
In the second half, the results of the tournament tell us the most about the knight’s character. Palamon and Emily pray to Venus, the goddess of love. Meanwhile, Arcite prays to the violent Mars. At the end of the tournament, with Arcite claiming victory, Mars is shown as more powerful. This seems to send the message that violence and strength can overcome love, which directly refutes what the knight has been saying throughout the tale about the power of love. When Saturn upsets Arcite’s horse and kills Arcite, however, and Palamon and Emily get married, the balance is restored and Venus has her way. The power of love prevails. This reflects the knight’s view of love conquering all, and extends the romanticism of his tale.
The knight also sends some interesting, and not overly flattering, messages about women and their level of agency. While Venus does win, in a sense (at least for Palamon), she is depicted as whinny and childish. She cries in order to get her way, eventually evoking the pity of Saturn. For a powerful goddess, and the one with which the knight most seems to identify, this is a shockingly negative portrayal. At the end of the story, Theseus offers Emily to Palamon, which technically fulfills her backup prayer of being with the one who loves her better, yet does not satisfy her true desire to be alone. It seems that only the wishes of the men are truly important to the gods. Emily’s agency in the story is limited to the better of two bad options, as it is from the start when Theseus offers her to two strangers fighting in the woods.
The Knight’s narrative focus in Part 3 comes across, to me, as largely self-indulgent, especially with respect to his extended depiction of Theseus’ amphitheater and its attached temples. In one sense, his discourse falls into a sort of prideful ignorance, by which he imagines that his listeners would not be immensely bored by such prattle. He possesses a comical enthusiasm for the subjects which he recounts, expressed in many places by certain introductory phrases. At one point, he proclaims, “But yet hadde I foryeten to devyse / The noble kerving and the portreitures,” anathema to him but wholly disinteresting to his audience (46 l.1914-1915). Elsewhere, his myopia reaches tremendously ironic heights: “Why should I noght as wel eek telle yow al / The portreiture that was upon the wal…?” (47 l.1967-1968). I, for one, could think of a number of reasons.
Moreover, as we discussed in class, the Knight possesses the greatest admiration for Theseus out of all the characters in the story. He sees the Athenian king as a decisive and indomitable conqueror (of both territory and women), reverent toward the gods through shows of opulence (i.e. his amphitheater and temples), and a lavish host–in short, the paradigm of chivalry. So when he praises these things, he is exalting the knightly code of honor and, by extension, himself. We could find him at fault in two ways, then: not only guilty of the ignorance by which he presumes his audience shares his unremitting love of any and all knightly affairs, but also culpable for the pride involved in blatantly praising oneself and one’s way of life. I think it would be fair to say that Chaucer certainly thought him so.
The passage of The Knight’s Tale that struck me the most was the one where Emelye prays to the goddess of chastity, Diana, because it was the first moment up until that point where she was given a voice in the narrative. Despite her critical role in the plot, at the center of the courtly love conflict between Arcite and Palamon, this is the first time she speaks; although her words are not directed to a mortal, but instead a goddess. What struck me most about Emelye’s prayer and the subsequent outcome in comparison to Palamon’s and Articte’s prayers was that Emelye was the only character that had any sort of entitlement to what she was asking for from the goddess. She was essentially praying that she would continue to lead her life in the way that she wanted to, while Palamon and Arcite prayed to their gods for things that they were most definitely not entitled to, such as another person or victory in a battle. However, the outcome of the prayers resulted in the men’s prayers both being answered, Arcite gets his victory and Palamon gets Emelye, while Emelye’s prayer gets dismissed immediately after she voices it when Diana manifests in front of Emelye in the temple and states that she will have to marry one of them. During Emelye’s prayer, she even concedes to the possibility of giving up her life as a maiden and requests that if she must marry one, let it be the one “that most desireth me.” (2325) The narrative undertone that persists through the contrast between the men’s prayers and outcomes and Emelye’s implies an imbalanced treatment of gender. The narrator of the tale, the Knight, never calls attention to this injustice from the gods, but perhaps Chaucer—the narrator who is once removed from the tale—intends to call attention to the absurdity of Emelye’s predicament, considering her life is controlled by her brother-in-law and two complete strangers are fighting over her hand in marriage by way of a full blown battle. The commentary on a gender hierarchy seems non-existent from the first layer narrator, the Knight. However, the second layer narrator, Chaucer could be calling attention to the ridiculous antics of courtly love by creating a hyperbolized situation where the two men had literally never come into direct contact with the woman of their affection and lust, yet still felt some form of entitlement to have her.
I was struck by the multilayered constructions of God and and monarchy throughout the Knight’s tale. We know from the prologue that the Knight self-identifies as a fighter for “Christendom” (49). The Knight’s world is constructed not around any city-state, or any conception of nation, but around the entirety of the worldly kingdom of Christ. His prologue expressly contrasts Christendom against “heathenesse,” but his tale is rather heathenish, featuring classical gods and no mention of Christ himself (49). Instead, he constructs a heavenly kingdom, ruled by Jupiter (who is advised by Saturn) and an earthly kingdom, ruled by Theseus (who is sometimes advised by his father, Eageus.) I was fascinated by the knight’s description of Theseus “arrayed right as if he were a god in trone./The people preesseth thiderward ful sone/Him for to seen, and doon heigh reverence,/And eek to herkne his heste and his sentence” (2529-2532). The Knight does not go so far as to say Theseus is actually a God, but he is dressed as though we were a god–and we know that the Knight puts quite a lot of importance on the way people dress. The language is that of a god sitting in judgement–the people revere him, and listen closely as he passes down his “heste and his sentence.” It’s pretty blatant–Theseus the king is an earthly god, who the people love and respect in a religious fashion.
This construction of the monarch as a god-like is interesting in the historical context in which Chaucer was writing. He was a product of a society in which Empire and Church were complexly interwoven, when the Pope and secular monarchs existed in wary balance. Chaucer lived and wrote in the early dusk of the High Middle Ages, when the accomplishments of the Crusades of earlier centuries were fading into history, and the Christendom the Crusaders had hacked into being was crumbling at its edges. The Church itself was rent by the Great Schism, with Popes holed up far in Avingnon, far away from Rome.
In short, Chaucer was writing at a time of great religious and secular instability. The Knight as a character stands as a symbol of the fading promise of a unified Christendom, and tells a tale in which the earthly monarch nearly merges with the heavenly one. The irony is that Theseus’ judgement is not respected. He chooses Arcite as the winner, but the gods step in and make Palamon emerge victorious–though they do it so subtly that no one seems to know it is their doing. I wonder if this, in the end, is the Knight’s lesson–or maybe Chaucer’s own lesson, subsumed beneath the Knight’s tale of human love and strife. The King and the Pope and all those who claim a divine right to power might think they are able to order the world, to sit in judgment of all humanity–but in the end, only God (or gods, as the case may be) has the power to truly effect change in the world.
The description of the Temple of Mars really caught my attention. Obviously it’s fairly lengthy and so the passage inevitably invites investigation. The images and illustrations on the walls seem to fall into two categories, broadly speaking: a list of proper nouns including Felonye, Drede, Outrage, Conquest, etc.; and a succinct chronological history of the world up to Chaucer’s time, starting with the Biblical story of Genesis (the forest before man and beast) and leading up to Roman history. In a way these two categories combine to form the whole of human history for Chaucer. The prior refers to the entirety of the human experience, giving life to many human emotions and personifying human actions. The latter represents chronological history as a whole. And so the decoration of the wall is a sort of concise representation of humanity.
What makes this so interesting is that the painting exists in the Temple of Mars, the God of War. Therefore one can infer that Mars (or call it Violence or War) oversees everything. This could be construed as an argument that Force is the most powerful tool for humans. Consider the knight’s introduction of Conquest starting on line 2027: “And al above, depeynted in a tour, Saw I Conquest, sitting in greet honour, With sharpe swerde over his heed Hanginge by a sotil twynes threed.”
This ties back to some of what we talked about in class and the relationship that is established between the two lovers and Emelye right away. The “love” that each man has for Emelye can only be consummated if one or the other is able to vanquish his opposition and “Conquer” the maiden. There is no true connection required, only the pomp and circumstance associated with courtly love followed by a display of force that makes the winner the indisputably manliest courter and therefore worthy of the maiden’s love.
I think that for the knight to justify himself he must believe that Force and Conquest are the most important pillars of one’s character.
very good–and your instinct to spend time on a passage that is given such prominence in the text is just right. I am struck by the fact that (as you suggest) Mars is tightly linked to Theseus, the “conqueror,” and yet conquest is here presented with a quite fragile hold on his supremacy–the sword is right over his head. why?
What fascinated me most about this story is the center of all of the conflict, Emelye. For the most part, we only get descriptions of her that are obviously distorted by the Knight, and his expectations of women in these sorts of heroic tales. When she is introduced the Knight describes her appearance, enough to know that she is supposed to be though of as the most beautiful woman in the land. Therefore, she is the ultimate prize. When Arcite wins the battle, “she agayn him caste a freenlich ye” (p. 62), as if she has fallen in love with him immediately. When he dies, the Knight informs us that she grieves for him appropriately, until she is instructed not to grieve anymore and love Palamoun instead.
But, we get to hear Emelye speak just once, and her prayer lends a different light to the story. She informs the reader that she “Desire to been a mayden al [her] lyf/ Ne never wol [she] be no love ne wyf” (p.54). To me, this is Chaucer showing the contrast between the image of the ideal woman, and the reality of women. I doubt that Chaucer had any ideas of equality, but I find it intriguing that he lets us see a glimmer of the real, independent Emelye behind the idealized Emelye that the Knight portrays.
I would like it if we could get into the idea that this story may be a criticism of the idea of courtly love. It seems to me that Chaucer portrays it as almost insincere.
great! I completely agree that the juxtaposition of Emelye’s prayer to Venus (she wants to stay a virgin) and the courtly battle over her highlights the problems with courtly love…and seemingly deliberately on C’s part.
The Knight’s Tale perfectly sums up the perspective of the greatly conceited, fraudulently noble Knight towards the world around him. Obviously both Palaman and Arcite are always held in the highest respects as their honorable love for Emilye drives their lives entirely. Theseus is renown as practically the greatest host, and most moral leader of all time. The women weep in conjunction with one another when they should, and praise their male superiors in unison when it’s deserved. Even “that good Arcite, of chivalrye flour / Departed is, with duetee and honour” (4.577-8), is praised despite his loss that was both decided by the mortal world and Saturn himself. Together, these idealistic values are deeply engrained in the story as the Knight’s perspective is identified through his narration. However, these instances don’t serve to illuminate the Knight in a negative light as a figure aware of his skewed perception due to his high class and easy upbringing. Rather, they symbolize the blindness of the higher class towards the reality of the world in which they live. This conceited perception of the world is also noticeable in the way the Knight regularly promises the reader that he will keep the story short as I mentioned in class on Tuesday. The very fact that he thinks he is benefiting the audience by keeping it short, when it’s actually quite long, shows his skewed and practically blind perception of reality. Furthermore, in Part Four, he says he will “Ne” go into multiple details, and then follows that statement with those exact details (what kind of trees were used for the coffin, the forest creatures that lost their homes, etc). Altogether, the Knight’s Tale seems that it will be the most outrageously positive tale, and seems to set the standard that will uncover actual reality that will unfold in further tales.
good–I certainly agree that the Knight comes across as someone so filled with his own importance (degree) that he is blind to the many problems in his tale. I’m not sure that the tale itself comes across as extremely positive in the end, though–the sudden, random death of Arcite, and Theseus’s advice just to make “a virtue out of necessity” do not seem terribly optimistic–but we’ll talk more about that today!
One thing that I found a bit odd while reading the Knight’s tale – from a logistical stand point – was that the story is set in ancient Greece, but the tale is much more medieval in nature. Instead of epic heroes, there are knights, lords, and castles. What Although the Renaissance began in the 14th century, it did not find its way West towards Britain until later. That’s why I find it very interesting that even though Chaucer wrote “The Canterbury Tales” during 14th century – the tale end of the Middle Ages – ancient Greece makes an appearance in his stories.
Another thing I took note of was the religious theme of the story. Before the tournament, Arcite, Palamoun, and Emelye each pray to a god. Arcite prays to Mars, the god of war, for victory. Arcite believes that he receives a positive sign that he will be victorious. Palamoun prays to Venus, the goddess of love, and asks her to grant him favor because of how much he loves Emelye. He too, receives a positive sign. Emelye prays to Diana, the goddess of chastity, because she wants to remain a virgin. Emelye is the only one who is not blessed with a positive sign. Societal and gender roles of the time did not provide women the luxury of choosing their own spouse. Instead, they could be given away like property by the patriarch of the family. In the end, Mars pulls through for Arcite, and he is victorious in battle. However, Venus fulfills her promise, and Palamoun comes out on top after Arcite is killed in an accident on his way to claim his prize.
Good–this blend of classical and medieval tropes is a symptom of the ‘high style’ that the Knight is aiming for, in part, and also advertises his knowledge of the many classical precedents he’s using here–Aeneid, Thebaid, etc. We’ll talk more today about the way C. represents Emelye…esp. in that temple scene.
After completing the Knight’s Tale, one part I found particularly interesting was the scene where Emelye prays to Diana to protect her virginity. Arcite and Palamon pay tribute to their respective god of choice, but do not come in direct contact with the gods. Diana however appears before Emelye. Why is that? Does it have to do with the fact that she is a woman? Diana’s rejection to protect Emelye’s wish to remain a virgin further strengthens a patriarchal ideals. The desire of a man to wed a woman holds greater strength than a goddesses ability to protect her devotee. Diana is forcing a change upon Emelye. While Venus and Mars are ultimately forces of destruction, Diana acts as a force of change. The theme of destruction vs change can be applied to evolution of the ideal knight. Is the transition from the battle born knight to the knight of the court caused by destruction? Or have times changed?
very good observation, and one we’ll definitely address today; Emelye’s visit to the temple is the only one that garners a decided negative–it is also a passage that Chaucer adds to his original, suggesting it is quite purposeful.
The part of The Knight’s Tale that got the strongest reaction out of me was the first half of part three, that could, in my opinion, have been totally omitted without sacrificing anything important to the tale–and that is surely not an accident.
The knight, who, as we discussed in class on Tuesday, has a habit of skipping/ignoring important or dramatic moments in the plot for the sake of “time,” chooses to the use the section following the story’s biggest cliffhanger — who will win this battle? — with a voluble description of the theater in which the battle was to be held, THEN the three oratories inside the theater, THEN the histories of each figure represented by the oratories.
The degree to which the knight digresses in these sections is truly impressive: it is almost silly how far he has strayed from the topic. And each time he opens a new topic, he does so with rhetoric that indicates he couldn’t IMAGINE telling this tale without going into detail about these particular subjects, and suddenly time is no object: ” Why sholde I noght as wel eek telle yow al…”
I am interested in hearing what other people have to say about the purpose (or purposes) of this large step away from the flow of the story–whether the portraits the knight paints of this ampitheatre and the altars within it are significant thematically to the story, foreshadowing in some way the end of Arcite and the triumph of Palamon, or whether it is just a very large device in which to enhance the characterization of the knight and provide a little comic relief to the tense and intense tale of the warring cousins.
Just the right question to ask: why does the knight entertain such an egregious departure from the main “plot” of his story? It will be interesting to think in class today not only about the ekphrases (descriptions of the paintings on the walls) but also the individual visits to the temples–these do shed interesting light on the end of the tale. The knight’s expansive digression also tells us what is important to him, and his conception of chivalry…
After finishing The Knight’s Tale, I can honestly say that I was fairly surprised by its resolution. Once it was revealed that Arcite and Palamon had to fight for Emelye, I assumed that neither would end up with her should they actually fight. As I mentioned in class, Emelye has played the role of the object of courtly love throughout the tale, which cannot be conquered or tamed as Theseus wants. He controls women; this is how Theseus believes relationships between men and women should be. However, Arcite and Palamon have fallen in true emotional love with her, seemingly, so conquering her would not be the correct way to win her.
Once the fight began, I assumed that neither cousin would win Emelye in the end because they were going against the concept of courtly love. Both cousins received what appeared to be approval from their respective gods and were optimistic. I’m still not sure why Arcite had to be the one to die in the end; what did Palamon have that Arcite did not? Why did Arcite deserve to die? Perhaps I’m missing the reason within the olde English, but I didn’t think either cousin deserved Emelye after literally fighting over her. I assumed at the fight’s commencement that neither cousin would win his love, but perhaps one would learn some lesson about what was truly important in life after killing the other.
I also noticed that the role of gods became much stronger in last parts of the tale. They have shown themselves to be the true deciders in what happens to the characters in the tale, when they had been taking a backseat earlier in the story. Why did the gods then deem Palamon worthy of Emelye’s love? The power seemed to shift partway through the tale from the mortal to the divine, which could definitely reveal more about the outcome of the battle.
These are important questions–I do think we are supposed to see something futile and illogical about the battle for Emelye–that first A and then P wins; there is nothing meaningful to distinguish them, and the final distinction seems arbitrary and even sinister.
While reading the Knight’s tale Part 1 & 2, I often thought about the way in which the information was being delivered and who was delivering it. It is obvious that the narrator is the one writing it all down, but the Knight is supposed to be the one telling the narrator the story, so what information is from which characters mouth?
I thought a lot about this during times in the tale where the Knight is being painted to be very brave, courageous and a stereotypical ‘manly’, dominate figure. For instance, in part 1 Theseus comes across four women crying at his feet and he says to them, “Have ye so greet envy of men honour, that thus compleyne and crye?” This line is in quotations which implies that this was taken directly from the mouth of the Knight. It also makes the Knight sound like a ridiculously pompous and egotistical human being. He thinks that out of all the reasons in the world that these women could be crying, it is probably because they are jealous of him? At this point I assumed that the narrator is in on the joke that the Knight is a somewhat outrageous and self-consumed character. However, I also questioned if the words are coming out of the narrators mouth or the Knights when the descriptions of Emelye come up. The descriptions are so long and passionately written that I was curious about whether the narrator is exaggerating these stories of Emelye or if the Knight has a little soft spot for his sister. In addition to the heavy description of Emelye, the narrator fails to add any description of the Knights wife, which makes me think the Knight does not bother to even expand on her, perhaps because his heart lies with Emelye?
Another aspect of this tale that I found interesting was the multiple different uses of the word “gentile”. It comes up in many different sections regarding the proper way for “gentile” men to act but they all seemed to contradict one another. The first reference is in the scene with the four women that admit they need help from Theseus and claim that there impression of “gentillesse” is pity. The second instance is further in the tale when the narrator was speaking of Emelye in Athens during the month of may surrounded by flowers and claims that the season of spring brings about “gentile hearts”. The third is in part two where the narrator claims that the word “gentile” means disposition. And finally, the last reference to the idea of gentleness is in the second part as well when Arcite and Palamon are fighting in the woods and the narrator refers to “gentile” men as men of great estate. It seems to me that the narrator is throwing out multiple meanings of the word gentile and I am interested to see how that word will be used in other tales as well. Will there be a thread that leads to an ultimate definition of the word?
Lots of good ideas and questions in here–I agree (as I said below in response to Thomas’s post) that looking at the Knight behind the story is always important…the character of Theseus seems remarkably similar to what we know of the knight, and so when Theseus seems to be ironized in the narrative I think we can assume it is not the teller of the tale, but Chaucer the narrator who is doing that ironizing–at the teller’s expense!
In “The Knight’s Tale, Parts 1 and 2,” I found myself repeatedly asking the question of whether the portrayal of the characters’ actions in the story are factual or whether they are construed by the chivalric, daring, and self-centered personality of the knight, the story’s teller. I would like to use the passage from lines 1033-1079 to illustrate the knight’s lack of depth in both his storytelling and character. Here the knight describes Emelye—“fresher than the May with floures newe— / For with the rose colour stroof hire hewe, / I noot which was the fairer of hem two—” (1037-9)—using merely surface observations. He paints her as an ideal character (much like the narrator does in many of his portraits in the General Prologue) without actually describing Emelye herself. There is nothing to suggest that she is unique, and yet, seen from afar, she immediately captures the love and passion of not one but both of the imprisoned cousins, Palamoun and Arcite. As we have come to know the knight, he would also be someone to get caught up in surface appearances. To take a step further back, Chaucer’s characterization of the knight in this manner helps to perpetuate the stereotype of knights as intensely masculine, self-absorbed figures.
We also see the knight extend his own characteristics to the figure of Theseus, who is himself a knight. Twice in Parts 1 and 2, Theseus is swayed to take action or change his decision because of the influence of crying women. In lines 1770-1, Theseus’s “herte had compassioun / Of women, fo they wepen evere in oon.” The women here persuade Theseus not to kill Arcite and Palamoun. Perhaps the knight also has a soft spot for crying women, or at least imagines himself as powerful enough to be begged and cried to. These examples, among others, make me believe that the knight is not entirely objective in his narration and that he allows his personality to affect his portrayal of the characters in his tale.
These are great questions, and lead us some way into the complexities of Chaucer’s narrative technique. We do need to bear in mind at all times WHO is telling the tale, and how that character’s agenda might be organizing what appear to be unmotivated aspects of the tale. I agree that Emelye is presented as remarkably 2-dimensional–even more so than in the source in Boccaccio–this suggests to me a kind of irony or satire directed at this courtly love theme–as though the knight just doesn’t get what would draw these two younger knights into such a fruitless battle.
For me, a surprising passage of “The Knight’s Tale” began on line 1649, when Arcite and Palamon meet to battle over their love of Emelye. Though they seem to be at each other’s throats, a tender moment comes when “Everich of them heelp for to armen other/As freendly as he were his owne brother” (1651-52). These two lines are almost sweet, and one can imagine the two of them silently helping the other put on their armor, almost like a mother helping a child dress. However, the Knight then goes on to compare Palamon’s fighting style to that of “a wood leoun” (1656) and Arcite’s to “a cruel tygre” (1657), and the two of them are then both “wilde bores… That frothen whyte as foam for ire wood” (1658-59).
How could these tender human brothers turn so quickly into rabid animals? The transition of dressing each other, an intimate activity, seems then strangely, almost humorously, juxtaposed with the sudden description of their animal identities. Perhaps, as we’ve discussed, their tenderness even in battle has to do with their “natural” and “divine” nobility, that even in times of savagery they can still act as gentlemen. The Knight, as Abraham was saying, is of course telling this tale and thus would want to support the idea of the natural divide between social classes. Since he first appeared in our story fresh from battle and covered in blood, the idea of maintaining poise in the face of violence is a pleasing idea to him.
This small detail may have been self-serving for the Knight, but its presentation borders on the ridiculous. Having just spent much of the time preceding this scene being scornful and hateful towards one another, it seems incredibly unlikely that they would then remember their years in prison together and help each other out for these few minutes. As we’ve discussed Chaucer wanting to question the estates of English society, perhaps he wants to question the idea of the upper class being naturally polite to a fault, that the knight’s nobility despite being covered in blood is not nobility at all but violence, plain and simple. In war, everyone resorts to their most basic, animal instincts, and no “estate” boundary changes that.
I am struck by this passage too–to me it indicates how even the most aggressive instincts are governed by a tight set of rules concerning chivalry; even if you fully intend to kill your opponent, there are things you may not do if you wish to be considered honorable and noble.
@Jordan Seman
After Arcite returns to Athens disguised as a poor laborer within “a yeer or two” he is promoted to more noble work (1426). The narrator mentions there was never someone like Arcite who was of such low degree in the social-class. The narrator comments that it was Arcite’s “gentil” or noble manners that made him so well liked by the court that Theseus decided to restore his true social-class (1431). Finally the narrator states “ther as he mighte his vertu excercyse” (1436). Arcite’s noble skills and manners are recognized as a natural talent, as a result a promotion of social-class is justified. I do not think Chaucer is recognizing the rise of social mobility, but rather agreeing that one is born into their social-class. Since the Knight is the narrator of this particular tale it seems logical that he would not support social mobility. I believe Arcite was promoted under a fake identity not because of his hard work, but because of the skills he had obtained as a noble. The promotion of Arcite only further reinforces a the idea permanent social-class people are born into. The promotion of Arcite was caused by a force above man that put him back into his rightful class. Could that force possibly be God?
Funny–I just replied to Jordan very much along the same lines! It does seem as though the Knight wants to emphasize that the natural “gentilesse” of Arcite shines through his humble disguise and projects him upwards in the hierarchy…
In this week’s reading, Chaucer’s indirect commentary on social hierarchy was quite interesting. In order to return to Athens, Arcite has to “change his array” and dress up like a poor laborer so he will not be recognized, changing his social position and “destroying” his lineage (1560). He says that he is truly of royal descent, but willingly enslaves himself as a poor man in order to be closer to Emelye. Does this downward movement imply that love is more powerful than social position?
Given what we talked about in class last week about social rigidity beginning to change during Chaucer’s moment, I interpreted this section as a commentary on the flexibility of social position. Arcite gives up his royal bloodline in favor of something he finds more important; his love for Emelye. Maybe Chaucer intends for us to see this movement as a signal of the changing times. I think Arcite represents the idea that social station is no longer solely based on birth; it can be controlled and willfully learned. In contrast, Arcite cannot willfully control his love for Emelye; he is enslaved by it. In fact, the story refers to passionate love as an illness that takes control of Arcite, changing his appearance and his behavior. He cannot escape the suffering he endures from loving Emelye. Therefore, I think Chaucer makes the point that in the end, human desire is much more powerful than social boundaries.
One question I have for class: Is there other evidence we can find (either in The Knight’s Tale or the General Prologue) that supports the idea that other forces may be stronger than the social hierarchy? Or is there more evidence revealing the contrary?
This is astute–good! I’m struck, relatedly, that when Arcite goes to court, even in his disguise, that the Knight seems set on his “true” social nobility shining through anyway–he mentions that he was so “gentil of condicioun” that he was renowned throughout the court–and eventually of course raised to his “proper” station…
March 2, 2015 at 7:57 pm
What struck me while reading the Knight’s Tale were the narrator’s subtle insights into the class system that may or may not reflect Chaucer’s own personal views. Most striking is the portrait of Arcite rising from the ashes of the social hierarchy and regaining an esteemed position in the kingdom. Upon being released from prison and returning to Thebes, he is so lovesick for Emelye that he decides to journey back to Athenes and disguise himself as a beggar just so he may “seen his lady wel ny day by day” (1407). When Chaucer introduces Arcite’s plan, the reader is unsuspecting of the spontaneous and somewhat unexplained way in which the former prisoner will organically achieve nobility in Athenes. However, he nonetheless performs the great achievement of “vertu” (1436), or “natural ability” as it is explained, and impresses Theseus enough to “enhauncen his degree” (1434).
This odd turn in the Knight’s Tale makes me wonder if Chaucer is commenting on the inevitability of being a citizen of the upper class. If so, his view is somewhat progressive given the period in which the Tale was written. Perhaps Chaucer uses Arcite to make a point against the idea that one can only be noble if he is born into the right family; he portrays Arcite as rising through the ranks simply because he is “gentil of condicioun” (1431), despite the fact that he is a lowly beggar. This part of the story is uplifting, as it shows that class is something that a person is born with and can achieve no matter his circumstances.
We have only read one tale thus far, but I am already beginning to get a feel for Chaucer’s modern interpretation of the world around him.
February 19, 2015 at 8:20 am
While reading the second half of the Knight’s Tale, I focused on the message the knight was trying to send to his fellow pilgrims. Much of the first half concerns chivalric values and courtly love, both of which reflect the knight’s worldview and values. The story is meant to educate the pilgrims on what they should value.
In the second half, the results of the tournament tell us the most about the knight’s character. Palamon and Emily pray to Venus, the goddess of love. Meanwhile, Arcite prays to the violent Mars. At the end of the tournament, with Arcite claiming victory, Mars is shown as more powerful. This seems to send the message that violence and strength can overcome love, which directly refutes what the knight has been saying throughout the tale about the power of love. When Saturn upsets Arcite’s horse and kills Arcite, however, and Palamon and Emily get married, the balance is restored and Venus has her way. The power of love prevails. This reflects the knight’s view of love conquering all, and extends the romanticism of his tale.
The knight also sends some interesting, and not overly flattering, messages about women and their level of agency. While Venus does win, in a sense (at least for Palamon), she is depicted as whinny and childish. She cries in order to get her way, eventually evoking the pity of Saturn. For a powerful goddess, and the one with which the knight most seems to identify, this is a shockingly negative portrayal. At the end of the story, Theseus offers Emily to Palamon, which technically fulfills her backup prayer of being with the one who loves her better, yet does not satisfy her true desire to be alone. It seems that only the wishes of the men are truly important to the gods. Emily’s agency in the story is limited to the better of two bad options, as it is from the start when Theseus offers her to two strangers fighting in the woods.
February 19, 2015 at 1:56 am
The Knight’s narrative focus in Part 3 comes across, to me, as largely self-indulgent, especially with respect to his extended depiction of Theseus’ amphitheater and its attached temples. In one sense, his discourse falls into a sort of prideful ignorance, by which he imagines that his listeners would not be immensely bored by such prattle. He possesses a comical enthusiasm for the subjects which he recounts, expressed in many places by certain introductory phrases. At one point, he proclaims, “But yet hadde I foryeten to devyse / The noble kerving and the portreitures,” anathema to him but wholly disinteresting to his audience (46 l.1914-1915). Elsewhere, his myopia reaches tremendously ironic heights: “Why should I noght as wel eek telle yow al / The portreiture that was upon the wal…?” (47 l.1967-1968). I, for one, could think of a number of reasons.
Moreover, as we discussed in class, the Knight possesses the greatest admiration for Theseus out of all the characters in the story. He sees the Athenian king as a decisive and indomitable conqueror (of both territory and women), reverent toward the gods through shows of opulence (i.e. his amphitheater and temples), and a lavish host–in short, the paradigm of chivalry. So when he praises these things, he is exalting the knightly code of honor and, by extension, himself. We could find him at fault in two ways, then: not only guilty of the ignorance by which he presumes his audience shares his unremitting love of any and all knightly affairs, but also culpable for the pride involved in blatantly praising oneself and one’s way of life. I think it would be fair to say that Chaucer certainly thought him so.
February 19, 2015 at 1:52 am
The passage of The Knight’s Tale that struck me the most was the one where Emelye prays to the goddess of chastity, Diana, because it was the first moment up until that point where she was given a voice in the narrative. Despite her critical role in the plot, at the center of the courtly love conflict between Arcite and Palamon, this is the first time she speaks; although her words are not directed to a mortal, but instead a goddess. What struck me most about Emelye’s prayer and the subsequent outcome in comparison to Palamon’s and Articte’s prayers was that Emelye was the only character that had any sort of entitlement to what she was asking for from the goddess. She was essentially praying that she would continue to lead her life in the way that she wanted to, while Palamon and Arcite prayed to their gods for things that they were most definitely not entitled to, such as another person or victory in a battle. However, the outcome of the prayers resulted in the men’s prayers both being answered, Arcite gets his victory and Palamon gets Emelye, while Emelye’s prayer gets dismissed immediately after she voices it when Diana manifests in front of Emelye in the temple and states that she will have to marry one of them. During Emelye’s prayer, she even concedes to the possibility of giving up her life as a maiden and requests that if she must marry one, let it be the one “that most desireth me.” (2325) The narrative undertone that persists through the contrast between the men’s prayers and outcomes and Emelye’s implies an imbalanced treatment of gender. The narrator of the tale, the Knight, never calls attention to this injustice from the gods, but perhaps Chaucer—the narrator who is once removed from the tale—intends to call attention to the absurdity of Emelye’s predicament, considering her life is controlled by her brother-in-law and two complete strangers are fighting over her hand in marriage by way of a full blown battle. The commentary on a gender hierarchy seems non-existent from the first layer narrator, the Knight. However, the second layer narrator, Chaucer could be calling attention to the ridiculous antics of courtly love by creating a hyperbolized situation where the two men had literally never come into direct contact with the woman of their affection and lust, yet still felt some form of entitlement to have her.
February 19, 2015 at 12:56 am
I was struck by the multilayered constructions of God and and monarchy throughout the Knight’s tale. We know from the prologue that the Knight self-identifies as a fighter for “Christendom” (49). The Knight’s world is constructed not around any city-state, or any conception of nation, but around the entirety of the worldly kingdom of Christ. His prologue expressly contrasts Christendom against “heathenesse,” but his tale is rather heathenish, featuring classical gods and no mention of Christ himself (49). Instead, he constructs a heavenly kingdom, ruled by Jupiter (who is advised by Saturn) and an earthly kingdom, ruled by Theseus (who is sometimes advised by his father, Eageus.) I was fascinated by the knight’s description of Theseus “arrayed right as if he were a god in trone./The people preesseth thiderward ful sone/Him for to seen, and doon heigh reverence,/And eek to herkne his heste and his sentence” (2529-2532). The Knight does not go so far as to say Theseus is actually a God, but he is dressed as though we were a god–and we know that the Knight puts quite a lot of importance on the way people dress. The language is that of a god sitting in judgement–the people revere him, and listen closely as he passes down his “heste and his sentence.” It’s pretty blatant–Theseus the king is an earthly god, who the people love and respect in a religious fashion.
This construction of the monarch as a god-like is interesting in the historical context in which Chaucer was writing. He was a product of a society in which Empire and Church were complexly interwoven, when the Pope and secular monarchs existed in wary balance. Chaucer lived and wrote in the early dusk of the High Middle Ages, when the accomplishments of the Crusades of earlier centuries were fading into history, and the Christendom the Crusaders had hacked into being was crumbling at its edges. The Church itself was rent by the Great Schism, with Popes holed up far in Avingnon, far away from Rome.
In short, Chaucer was writing at a time of great religious and secular instability. The Knight as a character stands as a symbol of the fading promise of a unified Christendom, and tells a tale in which the earthly monarch nearly merges with the heavenly one. The irony is that Theseus’ judgement is not respected. He chooses Arcite as the winner, but the gods step in and make Palamon emerge victorious–though they do it so subtly that no one seems to know it is their doing. I wonder if this, in the end, is the Knight’s lesson–or maybe Chaucer’s own lesson, subsumed beneath the Knight’s tale of human love and strife. The King and the Pope and all those who claim a divine right to power might think they are able to order the world, to sit in judgment of all humanity–but in the end, only God (or gods, as the case may be) has the power to truly effect change in the world.
February 19, 2015 at 12:13 am
The description of the Temple of Mars really caught my attention. Obviously it’s fairly lengthy and so the passage inevitably invites investigation. The images and illustrations on the walls seem to fall into two categories, broadly speaking: a list of proper nouns including Felonye, Drede, Outrage, Conquest, etc.; and a succinct chronological history of the world up to Chaucer’s time, starting with the Biblical story of Genesis (the forest before man and beast) and leading up to Roman history. In a way these two categories combine to form the whole of human history for Chaucer. The prior refers to the entirety of the human experience, giving life to many human emotions and personifying human actions. The latter represents chronological history as a whole. And so the decoration of the wall is a sort of concise representation of humanity.
What makes this so interesting is that the painting exists in the Temple of Mars, the God of War. Therefore one can infer that Mars (or call it Violence or War) oversees everything. This could be construed as an argument that Force is the most powerful tool for humans. Consider the knight’s introduction of Conquest starting on line 2027: “And al above, depeynted in a tour, Saw I Conquest, sitting in greet honour, With sharpe swerde over his heed Hanginge by a sotil twynes threed.”
This ties back to some of what we talked about in class and the relationship that is established between the two lovers and Emelye right away. The “love” that each man has for Emelye can only be consummated if one or the other is able to vanquish his opposition and “Conquer” the maiden. There is no true connection required, only the pomp and circumstance associated with courtly love followed by a display of force that makes the winner the indisputably manliest courter and therefore worthy of the maiden’s love.
I think that for the knight to justify himself he must believe that Force and Conquest are the most important pillars of one’s character.
February 19, 2015 at 8:45 am
very good–and your instinct to spend time on a passage that is given such prominence in the text is just right. I am struck by the fact that (as you suggest) Mars is tightly linked to Theseus, the “conqueror,” and yet conquest is here presented with a quite fragile hold on his supremacy–the sword is right over his head. why?
February 18, 2015 at 11:26 pm
What fascinated me most about this story is the center of all of the conflict, Emelye. For the most part, we only get descriptions of her that are obviously distorted by the Knight, and his expectations of women in these sorts of heroic tales. When she is introduced the Knight describes her appearance, enough to know that she is supposed to be though of as the most beautiful woman in the land. Therefore, she is the ultimate prize. When Arcite wins the battle, “she agayn him caste a freenlich ye” (p. 62), as if she has fallen in love with him immediately. When he dies, the Knight informs us that she grieves for him appropriately, until she is instructed not to grieve anymore and love Palamoun instead.
But, we get to hear Emelye speak just once, and her prayer lends a different light to the story. She informs the reader that she “Desire to been a mayden al [her] lyf/ Ne never wol [she] be no love ne wyf” (p.54). To me, this is Chaucer showing the contrast between the image of the ideal woman, and the reality of women. I doubt that Chaucer had any ideas of equality, but I find it intriguing that he lets us see a glimmer of the real, independent Emelye behind the idealized Emelye that the Knight portrays.
I would like it if we could get into the idea that this story may be a criticism of the idea of courtly love. It seems to me that Chaucer portrays it as almost insincere.
February 19, 2015 at 8:34 am
great! I completely agree that the juxtaposition of Emelye’s prayer to Venus (she wants to stay a virgin) and the courtly battle over her highlights the problems with courtly love…and seemingly deliberately on C’s part.
February 18, 2015 at 9:22 pm
The Knight’s Tale perfectly sums up the perspective of the greatly conceited, fraudulently noble Knight towards the world around him. Obviously both Palaman and Arcite are always held in the highest respects as their honorable love for Emilye drives their lives entirely. Theseus is renown as practically the greatest host, and most moral leader of all time. The women weep in conjunction with one another when they should, and praise their male superiors in unison when it’s deserved. Even “that good Arcite, of chivalrye flour / Departed is, with duetee and honour” (4.577-8), is praised despite his loss that was both decided by the mortal world and Saturn himself. Together, these idealistic values are deeply engrained in the story as the Knight’s perspective is identified through his narration. However, these instances don’t serve to illuminate the Knight in a negative light as a figure aware of his skewed perception due to his high class and easy upbringing. Rather, they symbolize the blindness of the higher class towards the reality of the world in which they live. This conceited perception of the world is also noticeable in the way the Knight regularly promises the reader that he will keep the story short as I mentioned in class on Tuesday. The very fact that he thinks he is benefiting the audience by keeping it short, when it’s actually quite long, shows his skewed and practically blind perception of reality. Furthermore, in Part Four, he says he will “Ne” go into multiple details, and then follows that statement with those exact details (what kind of trees were used for the coffin, the forest creatures that lost their homes, etc). Altogether, the Knight’s Tale seems that it will be the most outrageously positive tale, and seems to set the standard that will uncover actual reality that will unfold in further tales.
February 19, 2015 at 8:32 am
good–I certainly agree that the Knight comes across as someone so filled with his own importance (degree) that he is blind to the many problems in his tale. I’m not sure that the tale itself comes across as extremely positive in the end, though–the sudden, random death of Arcite, and Theseus’s advice just to make “a virtue out of necessity” do not seem terribly optimistic–but we’ll talk more about that today!
February 18, 2015 at 8:11 pm
One thing that I found a bit odd while reading the Knight’s tale – from a logistical stand point – was that the story is set in ancient Greece, but the tale is much more medieval in nature. Instead of epic heroes, there are knights, lords, and castles. What Although the Renaissance began in the 14th century, it did not find its way West towards Britain until later. That’s why I find it very interesting that even though Chaucer wrote “The Canterbury Tales” during 14th century – the tale end of the Middle Ages – ancient Greece makes an appearance in his stories.
Another thing I took note of was the religious theme of the story. Before the tournament, Arcite, Palamoun, and Emelye each pray to a god. Arcite prays to Mars, the god of war, for victory. Arcite believes that he receives a positive sign that he will be victorious. Palamoun prays to Venus, the goddess of love, and asks her to grant him favor because of how much he loves Emelye. He too, receives a positive sign. Emelye prays to Diana, the goddess of chastity, because she wants to remain a virgin. Emelye is the only one who is not blessed with a positive sign. Societal and gender roles of the time did not provide women the luxury of choosing their own spouse. Instead, they could be given away like property by the patriarch of the family. In the end, Mars pulls through for Arcite, and he is victorious in battle. However, Venus fulfills her promise, and Palamoun comes out on top after Arcite is killed in an accident on his way to claim his prize.
February 19, 2015 at 8:28 am
Good–this blend of classical and medieval tropes is a symptom of the ‘high style’ that the Knight is aiming for, in part, and also advertises his knowledge of the many classical precedents he’s using here–Aeneid, Thebaid, etc. We’ll talk more today about the way C. represents Emelye…esp. in that temple scene.
February 18, 2015 at 8:03 pm
After completing the Knight’s Tale, one part I found particularly interesting was the scene where Emelye prays to Diana to protect her virginity. Arcite and Palamon pay tribute to their respective god of choice, but do not come in direct contact with the gods. Diana however appears before Emelye. Why is that? Does it have to do with the fact that she is a woman? Diana’s rejection to protect Emelye’s wish to remain a virgin further strengthens a patriarchal ideals. The desire of a man to wed a woman holds greater strength than a goddesses ability to protect her devotee. Diana is forcing a change upon Emelye. While Venus and Mars are ultimately forces of destruction, Diana acts as a force of change. The theme of destruction vs change can be applied to evolution of the ideal knight. Is the transition from the battle born knight to the knight of the court caused by destruction? Or have times changed?
February 19, 2015 at 8:26 am
very good observation, and one we’ll definitely address today; Emelye’s visit to the temple is the only one that garners a decided negative–it is also a passage that Chaucer adds to his original, suggesting it is quite purposeful.
February 18, 2015 at 7:03 pm
The part of The Knight’s Tale that got the strongest reaction out of me was the first half of part three, that could, in my opinion, have been totally omitted without sacrificing anything important to the tale–and that is surely not an accident.
The knight, who, as we discussed in class on Tuesday, has a habit of skipping/ignoring important or dramatic moments in the plot for the sake of “time,” chooses to the use the section following the story’s biggest cliffhanger — who will win this battle? — with a voluble description of the theater in which the battle was to be held, THEN the three oratories inside the theater, THEN the histories of each figure represented by the oratories.
The degree to which the knight digresses in these sections is truly impressive: it is almost silly how far he has strayed from the topic. And each time he opens a new topic, he does so with rhetoric that indicates he couldn’t IMAGINE telling this tale without going into detail about these particular subjects, and suddenly time is no object: ” Why sholde I noght as wel eek telle yow al…”
I am interested in hearing what other people have to say about the purpose (or purposes) of this large step away from the flow of the story–whether the portraits the knight paints of this ampitheatre and the altars within it are significant thematically to the story, foreshadowing in some way the end of Arcite and the triumph of Palamon, or whether it is just a very large device in which to enhance the characterization of the knight and provide a little comic relief to the tense and intense tale of the warring cousins.
February 19, 2015 at 8:25 am
Just the right question to ask: why does the knight entertain such an egregious departure from the main “plot” of his story? It will be interesting to think in class today not only about the ekphrases (descriptions of the paintings on the walls) but also the individual visits to the temples–these do shed interesting light on the end of the tale. The knight’s expansive digression also tells us what is important to him, and his conception of chivalry…
February 18, 2015 at 11:45 am
After finishing The Knight’s Tale, I can honestly say that I was fairly surprised by its resolution. Once it was revealed that Arcite and Palamon had to fight for Emelye, I assumed that neither would end up with her should they actually fight. As I mentioned in class, Emelye has played the role of the object of courtly love throughout the tale, which cannot be conquered or tamed as Theseus wants. He controls women; this is how Theseus believes relationships between men and women should be. However, Arcite and Palamon have fallen in true emotional love with her, seemingly, so conquering her would not be the correct way to win her.
February 18, 2015 at 11:52 am
Once the fight began, I assumed that neither cousin would win Emelye in the end because they were going against the concept of courtly love. Both cousins received what appeared to be approval from their respective gods and were optimistic. I’m still not sure why Arcite had to be the one to die in the end; what did Palamon have that Arcite did not? Why did Arcite deserve to die? Perhaps I’m missing the reason within the olde English, but I didn’t think either cousin deserved Emelye after literally fighting over her. I assumed at the fight’s commencement that neither cousin would win his love, but perhaps one would learn some lesson about what was truly important in life after killing the other.
I also noticed that the role of gods became much stronger in last parts of the tale. They have shown themselves to be the true deciders in what happens to the characters in the tale, when they had been taking a backseat earlier in the story. Why did the gods then deem Palamon worthy of Emelye’s love? The power seemed to shift partway through the tale from the mortal to the divine, which could definitely reveal more about the outcome of the battle.
February 19, 2015 at 8:22 am
These are important questions–I do think we are supposed to see something futile and illogical about the battle for Emelye–that first A and then P wins; there is nothing meaningful to distinguish them, and the final distinction seems arbitrary and even sinister.
February 17, 2015 at 8:42 am
While reading the Knight’s tale Part 1 & 2, I often thought about the way in which the information was being delivered and who was delivering it. It is obvious that the narrator is the one writing it all down, but the Knight is supposed to be the one telling the narrator the story, so what information is from which characters mouth?
I thought a lot about this during times in the tale where the Knight is being painted to be very brave, courageous and a stereotypical ‘manly’, dominate figure. For instance, in part 1 Theseus comes across four women crying at his feet and he says to them, “Have ye so greet envy of men honour, that thus compleyne and crye?” This line is in quotations which implies that this was taken directly from the mouth of the Knight. It also makes the Knight sound like a ridiculously pompous and egotistical human being. He thinks that out of all the reasons in the world that these women could be crying, it is probably because they are jealous of him? At this point I assumed that the narrator is in on the joke that the Knight is a somewhat outrageous and self-consumed character. However, I also questioned if the words are coming out of the narrators mouth or the Knights when the descriptions of Emelye come up. The descriptions are so long and passionately written that I was curious about whether the narrator is exaggerating these stories of Emelye or if the Knight has a little soft spot for his sister. In addition to the heavy description of Emelye, the narrator fails to add any description of the Knights wife, which makes me think the Knight does not bother to even expand on her, perhaps because his heart lies with Emelye?
Another aspect of this tale that I found interesting was the multiple different uses of the word “gentile”. It comes up in many different sections regarding the proper way for “gentile” men to act but they all seemed to contradict one another. The first reference is in the scene with the four women that admit they need help from Theseus and claim that there impression of “gentillesse” is pity. The second instance is further in the tale when the narrator was speaking of Emelye in Athens during the month of may surrounded by flowers and claims that the season of spring brings about “gentile hearts”. The third is in part two where the narrator claims that the word “gentile” means disposition. And finally, the last reference to the idea of gentleness is in the second part as well when Arcite and Palamon are fighting in the woods and the narrator refers to “gentile” men as men of great estate. It seems to me that the narrator is throwing out multiple meanings of the word gentile and I am interested to see how that word will be used in other tales as well. Will there be a thread that leads to an ultimate definition of the word?
February 17, 2015 at 8:48 am
Lots of good ideas and questions in here–I agree (as I said below in response to Thomas’s post) that looking at the Knight behind the story is always important…the character of Theseus seems remarkably similar to what we know of the knight, and so when Theseus seems to be ironized in the narrative I think we can assume it is not the teller of the tale, but Chaucer the narrator who is doing that ironizing–at the teller’s expense!
February 16, 2015 at 9:06 pm
In “The Knight’s Tale, Parts 1 and 2,” I found myself repeatedly asking the question of whether the portrayal of the characters’ actions in the story are factual or whether they are construed by the chivalric, daring, and self-centered personality of the knight, the story’s teller. I would like to use the passage from lines 1033-1079 to illustrate the knight’s lack of depth in both his storytelling and character. Here the knight describes Emelye—“fresher than the May with floures newe— / For with the rose colour stroof hire hewe, / I noot which was the fairer of hem two—” (1037-9)—using merely surface observations. He paints her as an ideal character (much like the narrator does in many of his portraits in the General Prologue) without actually describing Emelye herself. There is nothing to suggest that she is unique, and yet, seen from afar, she immediately captures the love and passion of not one but both of the imprisoned cousins, Palamoun and Arcite. As we have come to know the knight, he would also be someone to get caught up in surface appearances. To take a step further back, Chaucer’s characterization of the knight in this manner helps to perpetuate the stereotype of knights as intensely masculine, self-absorbed figures.
We also see the knight extend his own characteristics to the figure of Theseus, who is himself a knight. Twice in Parts 1 and 2, Theseus is swayed to take action or change his decision because of the influence of crying women. In lines 1770-1, Theseus’s “herte had compassioun / Of women, fo they wepen evere in oon.” The women here persuade Theseus not to kill Arcite and Palamoun. Perhaps the knight also has a soft spot for crying women, or at least imagines himself as powerful enough to be begged and cried to. These examples, among others, make me believe that the knight is not entirely objective in his narration and that he allows his personality to affect his portrayal of the characters in his tale.
February 17, 2015 at 8:46 am
These are great questions, and lead us some way into the complexities of Chaucer’s narrative technique. We do need to bear in mind at all times WHO is telling the tale, and how that character’s agenda might be organizing what appear to be unmotivated aspects of the tale. I agree that Emelye is presented as remarkably 2-dimensional–even more so than in the source in Boccaccio–this suggests to me a kind of irony or satire directed at this courtly love theme–as though the knight just doesn’t get what would draw these two younger knights into such a fruitless battle.
February 16, 2015 at 8:37 pm
For me, a surprising passage of “The Knight’s Tale” began on line 1649, when Arcite and Palamon meet to battle over their love of Emelye. Though they seem to be at each other’s throats, a tender moment comes when “Everich of them heelp for to armen other/As freendly as he were his owne brother” (1651-52). These two lines are almost sweet, and one can imagine the two of them silently helping the other put on their armor, almost like a mother helping a child dress. However, the Knight then goes on to compare Palamon’s fighting style to that of “a wood leoun” (1656) and Arcite’s to “a cruel tygre” (1657), and the two of them are then both “wilde bores… That frothen whyte as foam for ire wood” (1658-59).
How could these tender human brothers turn so quickly into rabid animals? The transition of dressing each other, an intimate activity, seems then strangely, almost humorously, juxtaposed with the sudden description of their animal identities. Perhaps, as we’ve discussed, their tenderness even in battle has to do with their “natural” and “divine” nobility, that even in times of savagery they can still act as gentlemen. The Knight, as Abraham was saying, is of course telling this tale and thus would want to support the idea of the natural divide between social classes. Since he first appeared in our story fresh from battle and covered in blood, the idea of maintaining poise in the face of violence is a pleasing idea to him.
This small detail may have been self-serving for the Knight, but its presentation borders on the ridiculous. Having just spent much of the time preceding this scene being scornful and hateful towards one another, it seems incredibly unlikely that they would then remember their years in prison together and help each other out for these few minutes. As we’ve discussed Chaucer wanting to question the estates of English society, perhaps he wants to question the idea of the upper class being naturally polite to a fault, that the knight’s nobility despite being covered in blood is not nobility at all but violence, plain and simple. In war, everyone resorts to their most basic, animal instincts, and no “estate” boundary changes that.
February 17, 2015 at 8:44 am
I am struck by this passage too–to me it indicates how even the most aggressive instincts are governed by a tight set of rules concerning chivalry; even if you fully intend to kill your opponent, there are things you may not do if you wish to be considered honorable and noble.
February 15, 2015 at 11:17 pm
@Jordan Seman
After Arcite returns to Athens disguised as a poor laborer within “a yeer or two” he is promoted to more noble work (1426). The narrator mentions there was never someone like Arcite who was of such low degree in the social-class. The narrator comments that it was Arcite’s “gentil” or noble manners that made him so well liked by the court that Theseus decided to restore his true social-class (1431). Finally the narrator states “ther as he mighte his vertu excercyse” (1436). Arcite’s noble skills and manners are recognized as a natural talent, as a result a promotion of social-class is justified. I do not think Chaucer is recognizing the rise of social mobility, but rather agreeing that one is born into their social-class. Since the Knight is the narrator of this particular tale it seems logical that he would not support social mobility. I believe Arcite was promoted under a fake identity not because of his hard work, but because of the skills he had obtained as a noble. The promotion of Arcite only further reinforces a the idea permanent social-class people are born into. The promotion of Arcite was caused by a force above man that put him back into his rightful class. Could that force possibly be God?
February 17, 2015 at 8:42 am
Funny–I just replied to Jordan very much along the same lines! It does seem as though the Knight wants to emphasize that the natural “gentilesse” of Arcite shines through his humble disguise and projects him upwards in the hierarchy…
February 15, 2015 at 2:59 pm
In this week’s reading, Chaucer’s indirect commentary on social hierarchy was quite interesting. In order to return to Athens, Arcite has to “change his array” and dress up like a poor laborer so he will not be recognized, changing his social position and “destroying” his lineage (1560). He says that he is truly of royal descent, but willingly enslaves himself as a poor man in order to be closer to Emelye. Does this downward movement imply that love is more powerful than social position?
Given what we talked about in class last week about social rigidity beginning to change during Chaucer’s moment, I interpreted this section as a commentary on the flexibility of social position. Arcite gives up his royal bloodline in favor of something he finds more important; his love for Emelye. Maybe Chaucer intends for us to see this movement as a signal of the changing times. I think Arcite represents the idea that social station is no longer solely based on birth; it can be controlled and willfully learned. In contrast, Arcite cannot willfully control his love for Emelye; he is enslaved by it. In fact, the story refers to passionate love as an illness that takes control of Arcite, changing his appearance and his behavior. He cannot escape the suffering he endures from loving Emelye. Therefore, I think Chaucer makes the point that in the end, human desire is much more powerful than social boundaries.
One question I have for class: Is there other evidence we can find (either in The Knight’s Tale or the General Prologue) that supports the idea that other forces may be stronger than the social hierarchy? Or is there more evidence revealing the contrary?
February 17, 2015 at 8:41 am
This is astute–good! I’m struck, relatedly, that when Arcite goes to court, even in his disguise, that the Knight seems set on his “true” social nobility shining through anyway–he mentions that he was so “gentil of condicioun” that he was renowned throughout the court–and eventually of course raised to his “proper” station…