However, the issue of speech recognition is one area that I wonder if it will ever be possible to perfect. The problems Licklider raised are still problems with the technology today. People speak in different accents, at different speeds, and in different pitches. How can each of these factors be encompassed fully into the computer? Whenever I call information from my phone, I deliberately speak slowly and clearly. English is my first language, so it should be pretty easy to decipher what I am saying. But most of the time, the automated voice either repeats back something completely different, or passes me on to an operator. I would rather go back to having a live operator answer the phone. I guess the issue has been thoroughly researched, but considering the time involved in programing all of the variations, and the wide margin of error, I wonder how much money is saved by automating 411?

The topic of storing data makes me think about a job I have just started. I am working in an office that has been around for probably 25 years, and still does many things the way they did before technology provided better systems. For example, all of their client records are stored on index cards. There must be 1000 of them. Any time they need information, they just look on the card. But if they could get all of that data input into an access database, the number of reports they could generate would help with advertising and business plans.  I think an Access database would be the best system, but I am not proficient enough in Access to set this up yet.

Also related to Engelbart — I am so glad he invented the mouse! It makes working at the computer much better to be able to point and click, rather than scroll through with arrows and page up and page down keys.

in Geoffrey Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde

Throughout Geoffrey Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde, the beauty of Criseyde is extolled.  Referred to as “Lady Bright,” Troilus falls in love with Criseyde at first sight.  Despite sympathetic treatment by the narrator, doubts are raised about Criseyde’s moral character through the progression of the story.  She moves from a virtuous widow, vehemently opposed to entering into an inappropriate relationship with Troilus; to Troilus’s lover; to betrayal to Troilus when she quickly abandons her love for him and takes on a new lover, Diomede.  Through a close reading of the text, the reader can glean that in spite of her beauty, Criseyde is a character with deep concerns about her age and aging.  The narrator, however, makes no mention of her age until Book V, after Criseyde’s betrayal of Troilus.  By mentioning Criseyde’s age at this point in the story, the narrator implicitly confirms Criseyde’s deep concern over aging and makes a veiled condemnation of her.

In Book I, Pandarus implies that Criseyde’s age and station in life make her a good prospect for Troilus’s lover.  Pandarus sees Troilus’s distress over love, and prevails upon him to reveal the name of the lady who has captured his heart.  “Look up, I seye, and tell me what she is/Anon, that I may gon about they need” (I, 862-863).  Once Pandarus learns it is his own niece, Criseyde, with whom Troilus is smitten, he is immediately hopeful, “Lord, he was glad, and seyde, ‘Friend so deer/Now for aright, for Joves name in hevene./Love hath byset the wel:  be of good cheere!’” (I, 877-879). 

Pandarus goes on to tell Troilus that, due to Criseyde’s present station in life, she is well-suited for romance, “But trewely, it sate hire wel right nowthe/A worthe knight to loven and cherice” (I, 985-986).  According to Pandarus, Criseyde is such a good prospect that if she did not agree to Troilus’s request for her love, he would hold it against her, “And, but she do, I hold it for a vice” (I, 987).

There are two examples that can be considered in support of Criseyde’s concerns about her age in Book II.  During the first scene where we see interaction between Pandarus and Criseyde, Pandarus proposes that Criseyde dance with him, “Do wey youre book, rys up, and lat us daunce/ And lat us don to May som observaunce” (II, 111-112).  May is an allusion to springtime and youth, and is juxtaposed with Criseyde’s view of herself as no longer youthful in her response.  She protests against Pandarus’s suggestion that they dance based on the fact it would be inappropriate, considering she is no longer a young maiden, “It satte me well bet ay in a cave/ To bidde and rede on holy syntes ly ves/ Lat maydens gon to daunce, and yonge wyves” (I, 117-119).

Pandarus uses Criseyde’s worries about her age to advance his argument in support of granting Troilus her love.  Pandarus reminds Criseyde that she is aging and her beauty is fading, “Thenk ek how elde wasteth every hourse/In ech of yow a partie of beautee” (II, 393-394).  He implores Criseyde to capitalize on her beauty before it is too late, referring to an old proverb to convince her to abandon her pride, “Tyl crowes feet be growe under youre ye? And send yow than a myrour in to prye/ In which that ye may se youre face a morwe!” (II, 403-405).  It is with this comment that Criseyde finally breaks down and begins to cry, “With this he synte and caste adown the heed/And she began to breste a-weep anoon” (II, 407-408).

In Book V, the narrator speaks of Criseyde’s beauty and golden hair, “Doun by hire coler at hire bak byhynde/Which with a thred of gold she wolde bynde” (V, 811-812).  He seems to think she is perfect, except for one minor imperfection, “And, save hire browes joyneden yfeer/Ther nas no lak, in aught I kan aspien” (V, 813-814).   In mentioning this, the narrator questions Criseyde’s virtue.  In the Middle Ages, eyebrows that were joined together were thought to be a sign of female sexual promiscuity.  Finally, the narrator tells us, “But trewely, I kan nat tell hire age” (V, 826).  By bringing this up, the narrator indirectly insults Criseyde, because her age was something she was so sensitive about.  It also prompts the reader to consider the most puzzling question of all in this story.  If the narrator, at the end of the story, confesses to not even being able to tell Criseyde’s age, do we really know her at all as a character?  Can the narrator be relied upon, and is he truly sympathetic to Criseyde’s plight, or has his opinion of her changed in light of her actions? 

Throughout the progression of the story, the narrator simply describes Criseyde and her actions, but does not appear to condemn her for her choices.  However, we have seen that Pandarus sees Criseyde as someone who is in a different station of life than a young maiden, someone for whom an affair would be appropriate.  This is supported by his ready assurance to Troilus that Criseyde is a good prospect.  We have also seen examples that support Criseyde as being concerned about her beauty fading and aging.  Considering the sensitivity of the topic of aging, it is telling that not until Book V, does the narrator mention her age.  While he does not weigh in with an opinion about her character, he casts aspersions on her with one several comments woven in to a complementary descriptive passage about Criseyde.

George Lyman Kitteredge begins his article by stating that readers are prone to read and study the Canterbury Tales as if each tale were an isolated unit, without considering the connecting links that bind the book together.  Kitteredge is the first to propose the existence of The Marriage Group, and this article outlines how the stories about marriage are connected and are in response to the Wife of Bath. 

According to Kitteredge, the Wife of Bath’s Prologue begins a new Group in the Canterbury Tales, not connected with anything that is told prior.  The Wife of Bath’s Prologue scandalized the Clerk, whose study specialized in moral virtue.  The Wife states that virginity is not required and wives should rule husbands, but the Clerk keeps silent.  It is part of Chaucer’s design to call upon the Clerk for the first story of the next day.

The Clerk’s Tale is a retort to the Wife of Bath’s heretical doctrine that wives should rule their husbands.  According to Kitteredge, the Clerk remains silent despite the Wife’s heresies and personal attack on him.  It is not until 60 lines into the Clerk’s Tale that the subject of marriage is mentioned.  By bringing into his tale the word “soveryntee,” Kitteredge states, it becomes evident that the Clerk is answering the Wife of Bath.  Further, the Clerk tells a tale of a woman whose principles in marriage are the antithesis of those of the Wife of Bath.

Griselda in the Clerk’s Tale, states Kitteredge, is a retort to the Wife’s doctrine that wives should rule their husbands.  While the Wife of Bath “railed at her husbands and badgered them and cajoled them, Griselda never lost her patience or her serenity” (140).  Kitteredge contends that the Clerk’s Tale is poignant for two reasons.  One, for its satirical change in tone from impersonal to personal; and two, for its refutation of the Wife’s statement that clerks could not speak well of women.

Kitteredge them moves on to discuss the Merchant’s Tale, pointing out that the Clerk’s Tale, with its depiction of a patient and devoted wife, is in contrast to the Merchant’s own experience.  The Merchant’s own wife, Kitteredge states, would “be an overmatch for the devil himself” (144) and this colors his tale.  Kitteredge explains that the Merchant’s Tale is nothing but a tale of bawdry, and is an expression of the Merchant’s own anger at his fate.  Kitteredge points out that the satire in the Merchant’s Tale is aimed at January, and we may infer that the Merchant is also a middle-aged man who married a young wife.

The next tale within The Marriage Group is the Squire’s Tale, which is a pure romance.  Kitteredge steps back and analyzes the tales we have encountered so far.  Each is illustrative of a different kind of marriage, but none has been representative of the ideal where love endures and neither partner masters the other. 

Kitteredge then moves on to discuss the Franklin and his tale, discussing the importance of the notion of “gentilesse” with regard to the Franklin and his social standing.  The Franklin is a rich man with ambition, just below the gentry on the social ladder.  The Franklin’s Tale centers on this notion of “gentlesse,” reflecting the Franklin’s interest in this concept for personal and familial reasons.  His story follows and reflects his admiration for the Squire.  Kitteredge states that irrespective of whether the Wife’s digression on “gentileese” is on the Franklin’s mind (he is certain that it is); one thing is clear, ‘the Franklin’s utterances on marriage are spoken under the influence of the discussion which the Wife has precipitated” (154).

Kitteredge moves toward a conclusion of his article by examining how the Franklin’s Tale differs from the other tales concerning marriage.  The Franklin challenges the concept of chivalric love being incompatible with marriage, and declares that without gentile love, marriage is doomed to failure.  Kitteredge completes his theory by stating that readers eager to learn Chaucer’s views on marriage can be assured that The Marriage Group is a finished act, and the Franklin’s Tale is Chaucer’s ideal representation of marriage.

In researching articles for my portfolio, I came across many references to Kitteredge and his theory of the Marriage Group.  As the first person to conceptualize this idea of interconnectedness of the tales dealing with marriage, Kitteredge has received high acclaim for his work.  I agree with his theory, and feel that without reading and analyzing his argument, a student would lack the necessary foundation for research on this topic.  I wish I had chosen to review this article for the first half of my portfolio, as I feel it would have been helpful in evaluating several articles I read with referenced Kitteredge’s theory.  The article and theory were very interesting and persuasive.

Elizabeth Downey

University of Mary Washington

December 8, 2006

James Sledd opens his article discussing the Clerk’s Tale with a brief summary of the central themes of the tale, in with Marquis Walter presents his wife Griselda with a series of severe and inhumane tests in an attempt to prove her obedience.  Griselda passes the tests, proving her patience and worth, and all of the characters live happily ever after.  Sledd contends that “the tale has suffered because outstanding scholars have too hastily condemned it,” (161) and in his journal article, examines works by the scholars G.L. Kitteredge, D.D. Griffith, W.A. Cate, and J. Severs.

Sledd first examines “Chaucer’s Discussion of Marriage” by Kitteredge, explaining the consequences of the theory of the Marriage Group as it pertains to the Clerk’s Tale.  With Sledd does not disagree with Kitteredge’s theory of the Marriage Group, he contends that in accepting it, readers are ascribing to the theory that the Clerk’s Tale does not merit evaluation on its own because it is part of the whole of the Marriage Group.  Sledd cautions against neglecting the drama of the Clerk’s Tale based on Kitteredge’s theory, which submerges the issues inherently problematic within the narrative.

Next, Sledd examines works by Professors Griffith and Cate, “The Origin of the Griselda Story” and “The Problem of the Origin of the Griselda Story,” respectively.  According to Sledd, “Griffith and Cate’s Griselda is no longer the saintly heroine of a piteous, marvelous, and gracious tale” (163).  Sledd feels that Griffith and Cate turn Griselda into something, “illogical, incoherent, and incomprehensible” (164) and are of the conviction something is radically wrong with the story.  Sledd objects to Griffith and Cate’s theory that Griselda is representative of Cupid and Psyche folk-tales, on the basis that he contends Chaucer knew nothing of the tale. 

Following his discussion of Griffith and Cates, Sledd moves on to examine the book, “The Literary Relationship of Chaucer’s ‘Clerkes Tale,’” by Professor J. Severs.  In Severs’s book, he seeks “to determine precisely the poet’s sources for his tale of Griseldis; to establish satisfactory texts of the sources; and to examine the poet’s treatment of them” (165).  Sledd acknowledges the merit of Severs’s work with the exception of the book’s first and fourth chapters.  His objections to these chapters are in alignment with previous objections cited to the works of Griffith and Cates; according to Sledd, Severs accepts the story as being traced from a primitive folk-tale, and in doing so, “it is taken for granted that what was originally magical in the Griselda story ‘has become monstrous’” (165).

After examining the theories of Kitteredge, Griffith, Cates, and Severs, Sledd next comes to the climax of his paper, outlining two central moral questions of the Clerk’s Tale.  The first question is why Chaucer represented such cruelty in the tale without proper abhorrence or praise for virtue.  Second, Sledd questions whether readers are supposed to admire Walter for his tyranny.  Based on these questions, Sledd probes:  is the Clerk’s Tale a story, a sermon, or both? 

With regard to the first question, Sledd feels that “Chaucer takes every opportunity for pathos” (172) in the story, and cites Chaucer’s hurrying over the part of the narrative when Griselda is separated from her children for twelve long years as an example of this pathos.  For the next question, Sledd gives his most persuasive and compelling argument of the entire article.  He explains that rather than getting caught up in the sentimentality of the tale, and questioning Walter’s tyranny, readers should instead focus on the moral application of the story:  Griselda’s transcendent goodness is on the basis of the argument Christian submission to the will of God. 

Of all of the articles I have reviewed for my portfolio, I liked this one the least.  Once I finally got to Sledd’s point, which was that the Clerk’s Tale is not a story about a tyrannical husband cruelly dominating his submissive wife at all; but rather, an allegory for Christian humility to God’s will, I saw the merit of this perspective.  But with so many pages devoted to refuting other scholars’ works, the article was too contentious.  Sledd would have been more convincing if he first summarized the tale, and then moved right into his interpretation.  Then, he could have mentioned the areas of disagreement he has with the other scholars’ works.  I feel that if the article was organized that way, it would be much more effective.

I disagree with Sledd’s statement that Chaucer knew nothing of the Cupid and Psyche folk-tale.  Based on my limited knowledge, as an undergraduate student just beginning study of Chaucer, I am extremely convinced that Chaucer was such a learned man, and so well educated, that he would have certainly known of this folk tale.  Although I have not read the papers by Griffith and Cate, I am inclined to agree with their ideas just based on Sledd’s objections to them.

Elizabeth Downey

University of Mary Washington

December 8, 2006

Chaucer’s Merchant’s Tale by J.S.P. Tatlock first appeared in Modern Philology in 1935. In this article, Tatlock states that with regard to the Merchant’s Tale, “Chaucer never wrote more brilliantly” (182), and highlights his admiration for the style of balanced and antithetical unified couplets. Tatlock’s article examines how this tale differs from other Canterbury Tales, the source, courtly love conventions exhibited in the tale, and Chaucer’s literary motive.

The direct source of this tale is not conclusively known, but the plot’s essentials were contained in many stories told throughout Europe. Tatlock states that in contrast to this version of the story, others pay more attention to the female character. Chaucer, however “expends most of his unloving care” (176) on the character of January. January’s advanced age is a fresh addition to the story, as well as his blindness. Tatlock describes how Chaucer heads off any potential sympathy for January by depicting him as a senile lecher. The one point in the story which could evoke a moment of pathos toward January, Tatlock states, is countered by Chaucer’s description of his “ridiculous posture, crouching with the tree in his arms” (177). Tatlock makes the observation that in the tale, there are two instances in which January consults his friends for advice, and, notably, this asking for advice is possibly the first time in literature where it is “motivated unconsciously but entirely by the itch to talk about one’s own affairs” (177).

Tatlock continues that “with so repulsive and fatuous a husband” (178), there remained the danger that May, the faithless wife, would receive readers’ sympathy. He explains that Chaucer averts this by making May “hardly a person at all” (178). Her character is not described, she speaks rarely, and her thoughts and feelings are not expressed. Tatlock points out the location May selects for reading her first love letter from Damian – a privy – as indicative of Chaucer’s intended mood. Chaucer’s technique, Tatlock explains, is to emphasize January’s personality by giving scant attention to descriptions of the other characters.

Tatlock makes an important distinction between May’s lover Damian and the character of Troilus in Chaucer’s earlier Troilus and Criseyde. Damian exhibits the same characteristics of the courtly lover as we see in Troilus, yet the male type “which Chaucer elaborated with so much sympathy in Troilus, and tolerant amusement in Aurelius, could not be treated with more negligent indifference here” (179). 

Tatlock moves toward a conclusion of his article by delving into some of the deeper meanings of this tale. He states that with the benediction of January and May’s nuptial bed, High Mass prior to January’s wooing of May, and January’s lust expressed using the words of Solomon’s Song, Chaucer makes the implication that the clergy are no more chaste than the laity. Chaucer’s tells us nothing is sacred when he compares January’s roar upon seeing his wife in the tree with Damian, to that of a mother crying out over her dying child. Tatlock feels that by combining Christian language with pagan mythology in this tale, Chaucer makes the story both Italian and fantastic, sparing himself from accusations of taking the story too seriously.

With regard to Chaucer’s choice of setting, Tatlock introduces several theories on why Chaucer uses Italy. He contends that one possibility is that Chaucer may have been influenced by the work of Boccaccio, and “it would not be hard to believe that the savagery of the Merchant’s Tale was a masculine Englishman’s retort to the young Italian author’s effeminate insincerity and sentimental voluptuousness” (186). Tatlock’s final remarks in conclusion of this article are perhaps the most compelling. He states that Chaucer’s most likely motive in the tale was literary – an expression of a different writing style and a source of fresh expression. He ends his article by saying that although the Merchant’s Tale may be repugnant, “Cold makes us aware of warmth, and something purely acrid heightens the worth of his prevailing clemency” (188).

I thoroughly enjoyed Tatlock’s article and found the distinctions between the Merchant’s Tale and Troilus and Criseyde particularly interesting. Although Tatlock did not seem to be wholly convinced, based on my study, I find it likely that Chaucer is making a parody of Boccaccio’s style in this tale. There are a number of insightful points in this article, but it lacks a unifying thesis. Perhaps this does not detract from the quality of the article, considering the fact the title “Chaucer’s Merchant’s Tale” does not imply there is a central argument. However, in the course of my research, I have come to expect a strong thesis. In light of the documents that were uncovered with reveal that Chaucer was once accused of kidnapping and rape, I wonder, if Tatlock were alive today and knew of this, he would consider this as part of Chaucer’s motive behind writing such a tale. Could Chaucer’s own negative experience with love have colored his vision so much between the writing of Troilus and Criseyde and the Merchant’s Tale, that it affected how he expressed himself in writing?

Elizabeth Downey

University of Mary Washington

December 8, 2006

Horrell, Joseph. “Chaucer’s Symbolic Plowman.” In Richard J. Schoeck and Jerome Taylor, eds. Chaucer Criticism: The Canterbury Tales. Notre Dame, Ind.: U. of Notre Dame Press, 1960, 84-97.

Joseph Horrell opens his article, Chaucer’s Symbolic Plowman, by pointing out his surprise at the lack of attention paid to this figure by Chaucerian scholars.  According to Horrell, the plowman is the only perfect Christian among the lay pilgrims in the Canterbury Tales.  Despite this, Horrell notes, “of the few characters described in the General Prologue, only a few are more revealingly described” (85).  Horrell provides social and historical background to allow readers to more fully understand the figure of the plowman, and to support his contention that the plowman is representative of an ideal Christian.

Horrell points out that during Chaucer’s age, the Peasant’s Revolt was the most important event in terms of economic and social significance.  Prior to the Peasant’s Revolt, the Black Death wiped out large numbers of laborers.  As a consequence of this, laborers were given increased prominence.  Horrell notes that during the Peasant’s Revolt, increased prestige of the plowman was due to the nature of the economy.  He asserts that in such a period of social and economic change, “Chaucer surveyed mankind as a whole for types of men to represent it, and saw fit to include a plowman among the pilgrims journeying loquaciously to Canterbury” (87).

Horrell includes Gower’s description of plowmen to paint a more revealing picture of societal attitudes toward this type of laborer.  Gower describes plowmen in Vox Clamantis as “lazy and avaricious.  They are too few in number; they ask exorbitant wages; one used to do as much work as three now” (87).  Horrell feels, however, that despite the fact Gower’s description may have been typical; the character of Piers Plowman is more like Chaucer’s plowman in Canterbury Tales.   Piers Plowman was written by William Langland roughly ten years prior to Chaucer’s composition of Canterbury Tales, and is a story of a series of dreams that symbolize the contrast between what is wrong with society and an ideal society which comes to be led by Piers Plowman, who is an allegory for Jesus Christ.

Horrell continues his article with reflection on Chaucer’s description of the plowman as it corresponds to what we know historically.  Chaucer does not give much information about the plowman’s personal appearance.  He simply tells us that he wore a tabard and rode a mare.  Horrell states that the tabard was originally an elaborate coat worn by nobles, but there is evidence suggesting it was also the usual dress of the plowman, although a rude imitation of the prototype worn by nobles.  With regard to the mare, riding this animal was usually an indication of humility.  Horrell points out that Chaucer’s plowman is conventional and is a genuine representative of his class.

The Ploughman’s Tale was added to Canterbury Tales, and in this tale, a tiller at the plow knows nothing of the Pope.  Horrell explains that Chaucer chose the plowman as a symbol of the rude, anonymous folk who might lead the beatific life” (93).  Horrell explains that by describing the plowman as a property owner who pays his tithes fairly “both of his proper swynk and his catel” (90), we know Chaucer is characterizing the plowman as the ideal Christian among lay pilgrims.  Horrell notes that circumvention of the religious obligation of tithing was common in Chaucer’s day.

While Horrell does not explain why Chaucerian scholarship neglects the plowman, he does make a very strong case for the exalted place the plowman holds in Chaucer’s cast of characters.  Horrell points out that Chaucer tells us the plowman is charitable, and sheds light on the significance of this term by explaining that thinkers of the day considered charity to be the highest form of all virtue.  According to Horrell, Chaucer “crowned this lowliest of the pilgrims with the highest of Christian virtues” (95) which reveals Chaucer’s faith in the goodness of man. 

In my evaluation of Joseph Horrell’s article, I found his writing style and arguments clear and easy to follow.  I was drawn to the article with Horrell’s assertion that the character of the plowman has not received adequate treatment from Chaucerian scholars.  This statement intrigued me, and I looked forward to reading Horrell’s reasons as to why he felt this character should have been the subject of more scholarly review.  I thought Horrell adequately explained how the plowman was symbolic, but neglected to support his argument that this subject should be more widely studied. 

Elizabeth Downey

University of Mary Washington

December 8, 2006

In the book Chaucer and His World, author Ian Serraillier describes what life in London was like at the time of Geoffrey Chaucer.  Serraillier embellishes his description of 14^th Century urban England with a plethora of photographs of artifacts, manuscript pages, household utensils, implements of war, craftsmen’s tools, clothing and personal care items, religious jewelry and objects, and tapestries and tombstones. Serraillier references the works of Chaucer, most notably the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales, to further his story in two ways.  First, he quotes from Chaucer to help readers better understand the context in which Chaucer lived and wrote, and second, he describes the time period vividly so that readers may gain a better understanding of Chaucer’s characters and their lives.  Serraillier points out that although Chaucer seldom refers directly to contemporary events, the pilgrims in the Prologue to Canterbury Tales come directly from Chaucer’s day and age and serve as realistic representations of actual 14^th Century English inhabitants.

            Serraillier begins his story by describing Chaucer’s early life.  Although little is known we can extrapolate a fairly reliable picture based on the cultural history of the time.  As a youth, Chaucer served as a page and then a squire in the household of the Duchess of Ulster.  While there, Serraillier explains, Chaucer most likely waited on important people and thus had the opportunity to observe good manners as well as character.  He would have come into contact with courtiers, statesmen, soldiers, ambassadors, artists, musicians, craftsmen, merchants, lawyers, doctors, and churchmen, and would have learned how to “joust in the lists and write and draw” (6) just as the Squire in the Prologue to Canterbury Tales. 

In 1359 Chaucer was sent to France to fight in the Hundred Years’ War. In 1377 he began traveling throughout Italy, most likely as a trade representative for the King. Serraillier says that this had a tremendous effect on Chaucer’s development as a poet, as it brought him in contact with the finest in contemporary art and literature, particularly, the works of Dante, from whose works he borrowed and imitated.

The life of everyday London citizens is also reflected in the works of Chaucer. The simple one bedroom town house of the ordinary citizen is reflected in the Miller’s Tale where family and lodgers slept together, while the living conditions of the poor are reflected in the Nun’s Priest’s Tale.  Serraillier speculates that the poor widow’s cottage would have been built of logs, or perhaps thatched, the floors of bare earth, and with a yard enclosed by a fence and a ditch.  While Chaucer’s own dress as depicted in his portraits was plain, Serraillier tells us that 14^th Century dress of the wealthy was rich in detail.  Chaucer remarks that the kerchief of the Wife of Bath weighed ten pounds and the hat that she wore on Sundays was “as broad as is a buckler on a shield” (18).

Students in 14^th Century London who attended universities went to either Oxford or Cambridge, and Serraillier compares students of the past with modern students.  The students were in their late teens, often got into spats with the local residents, and lived in boarding houses or in rented rooms in private homes, such as Nicholas, the Clerk of Oxford, in the Miller’s Tale. 

Serraillier point out that Chaucer’s work reflects two great social movements of the age:  the growing middle class and the decline of the Church.  The growing middle class is represented by several characters in the Prologue, such as the efficient learned Lawyer, a specialist in land purchase, the thrifty Doctor, the much traveled and smartly dresses wool Merchant and the cheerful expert weaver, the Wife of Bath.

Serraillier points out that many of the pilgrims were connected with the Church, including the Prioress, the Monk, the Summoner, the Parson, the Pardoner and the Prioress.  Many of these characters represent the corruption that had taken hold in the Church, especially the Summoner.  Serraillier explains that a Summoner was a petty officer of the Church whose job was to bring to court adulterers, blasphemers, and others who had broken ecclesiastical laws.  Chaucer’s Summoner was a buffoon who despised the Church, openly scoffed at all things sacred and for a tip would aid and abet his friends’ impiety.  Chaucer contrasts these characters with the more numerous but less noted pious country priests who tended to their flock with love and humility, such as the Parson.

I enjoyed reading Serraillier’s book.  He was able to capture in a short amount of space the adventurous age of 14^th Century London with its flourishing overseas trade, growing and better educated middle class, less powerful Church, and less influential nobility.  He puts Chaucer squarely in the middle of this vibrant portrait. Reading this book helped me appreciate the fact that out of the outmoded religious beliefs, superstitions, odd clothing, poor hygiene and unhealthy living conditions of the late middle ages, a new form of literature was emerging and it was represented by Chaucer, a writer who was able to capture the energy and newness of the age, and yet at the same time, capture the essence of human character that has changed very little over the centuries.

 
Elizabeth Downey

University of Mary Washington

December 8, 2006

Erin

Adam

Lauren