Chapter D: Laing Purves (21)

10. Bratt: coarse cloak; Anglo-Saxon, “bratt.” The word is still used in Lincolnshire, and some parts of the north, to signify a coarse kind of apron.

11. Long on: in consequence of; the modern vulgar phrase “all along of,” or “all along on,” best conveys the force of the words in the text.

12. Annualere: a priest employed in singing “annuals” or anniversary masses for the dead, without any cure of souls; the office was such as, in the Prologue to the Tales, Chaucer praises the Parson for not seeking: Nor “ran unto London, unto Saint Poul’s, to seeke him a chantery for souls.”

13. Mortify: a chemical phrase, signifying the dissolution of quicksilver in acid.

14. Blin: cease; from Anglo-Saxon, “blinnan,” to desist.

15. Name: took; from Anglo-Saxon, “niman,” to take. Compare German, “nehmen,” “nahm.”

16. Los: praise, reputataion. See note 5 to Chaucer’s tale of Melibœus.

17. Grame: sorrow; Anglo-Saxon, “gram;” German, “Gram.”

18. Arnaldus Villanovanus, or Arnold de Villeneuve, was a distinguished French chemist and physician of the fourteenth century; his “Rosarium Philosophorum” was a favourite text-book with the alchemists of the generations that succeeded.

19. Hermes Trismegistus, counsellor of Osiris, King of Egypt, was credited with the invention of writing and hieroglyphics, the drawing up of the laws of the Egyptians, and the origination of many sciences and arts. The Alexandrian school ascribed to him the mystic learning which it amplified; and the scholars of the Middle Ages regarded with enthusiasm and reverence the works attributed to him — notably a treatise on the philosopher’s stone.

20. Secret of secrets: “Secreta Secretorum;” a treatise, very popular in the Middle Ages, supposed to contain the sum of Aristotle’s instructions to Alexander. Lydgate translated about half of the work, when his labour was interrupted by his death about 1460; and from the same treatise had been taken most of the seventh book of Gower’s “Confessio Amantis.”

21. Tyrwhitt says that this book was printed in the “Theatrum Chemicum,” under the title, “Senioris Zadith fi. Hamuelis tabula chymica” (“The chemical tables of Senior Zadith, son of Hamuel”); and the story here told of Plato and his disciple was there related of Solomon, but with some variations.

22. Ignotum per ignotius: To explain the unknown by the more unknown.

23. Though he multiply term of his live: Though he pursue the alchemist’s art all his days.

THE MANCIPLE’S TALE.

THE PROLOGUE.

WEET* ye not where there stands a little town, *know Which that y-called is Bob-up-and-down, <1> Under the Blee, in Canterbury way? There gan our Hoste for to jape and play, And saide, “Sirs, what? Dun is in the mire.<2> Is there no man, for prayer nor for hire, That will awaken our fellow behind? A thief him might full* rob and bind *easily See how he nappeth, see, for cocke’s bones, As he would falle from his horse at ones. Is that a Cook of London, with mischance? <3> Do* him come forth, he knoweth his penance; *make For he shall tell a tale, by my fay,* *faith Although it be not worth a bottle hay.

Awake, thou Cook,” quoth he; “God give thee sorrow What aileth thee to sleepe *by the morrow?* *in the day time* Hast thou had fleas all night, or art drunk? Or had thou with some quean* all night y-swunk,** *whore **laboured So that thou mayest not hold up thine head?” The Cook, that was full pale and nothing red, Said to Host, “So God my soule bless, As there is fall’n on me such heaviness, I know not why, that me were lever* sleep, *rather Than the best gallon wine that is in Cheap.” “Well,” quoth the Manciple, “if it may do ease To thee, Sir Cook, and to no wight displease Which that here rideth in this company, And that our Host will of his courtesy, I will as now excuse thee of thy tale; For in good faith thy visage is full pale: Thine eyen daze,* soothly as me thinketh, *are dim And well I wot, thy breath full soure stinketh, That sheweth well thou art not well disposed; Of me certain thou shalt not be y-glosed.* *flattered See how he yawneth, lo, this drunken wight, As though he would us swallow anon right. Hold close thy mouth, man, by thy father’s kin; The devil of helle set his foot therein! Thy cursed breath infecte will us all: Fy! stinking swine, fy! foul may thee befall. Ah! take heed, Sirs, of this lusty man. Now, sweete Sir, will ye joust at the fan?<4> Thereto, me thinketh, ye be well y-shape. I trow that ye have drunken wine of ape,<5> And that is when men playe with a straw.”

And with this speech the Cook waxed all wraw,* *wrathful And on the Manciple he gan nod fast For lack of speech; and down his horse him cast, Where as he lay, till that men him up took. This was a fair chevachie* of a cook: *cavalry expedition Alas! that he had held him by his ladle! And ere that he again were in the saddle There was great shoving bothe to and fro To lift him up, and muche care and woe, So unwieldy was this silly paled ghost. And to the Manciple then spake our Host: “Because that drink hath domination Upon this man, by my salvation I trow he lewedly* will tell his tale. *stupidly For were it wine, or old or moisty* ale, *new That he hath drunk, he speaketh in his nose, And sneezeth fast, and eke he hath the pose <6> He also hath to do more than enough To keep him on his capel* out of the slough; *horse And if he fall from off his capel eftsoon,* *again Then shall we alle have enough to do’n In lifting up his heavy drunken corse. Tell on thy tale, of him *make I no force.* *I take no account* But yet, Manciple, in faith thou art too nice* *foolish Thus openly to reprove him of his vice; Another day he will paraventure Reclaime thee, and bring thee to the lure; <7> I mean, he speake will of smalle things, As for to *pinchen at* thy reckonings, *pick flaws in* That were not honest, if it came to prefe.”* *test, proof Quoth the Manciple, “That were a great mischief; So might he lightly bring me in the snare. Yet had I lever* paye for the mare *rather Which he rides on, than he should with me strive. I will not wrathe him, so may I thrive) That that I spake, I said it in my bourde.* *jest And weet ye what? I have here in my gourd A draught of wine, yea, of a ripe grape, And right anon ye shall see a good jape.* *trick This Cook shall drink thereof, if that I may; On pain of my life he will not say nay.” And certainly, to tellen as it was, Of this vessel the cook drank fast (alas! What needed it? he drank enough beforn), And when he hadde *pouped in his horn,* *belched* To the Manciple he took the gourd again. And of that drink the Cook was wondrous fain, And thanked him in such wise as he could.

Then gan our Host to laughe wondrous loud, And said, “I see well it is necessary Where that we go good drink with us to carry; For that will turne rancour and disease* *trouble, annoyance T’accord and love, and many a wrong appease. O Bacchus, Bacchus, blessed be thy name, That so canst turnen earnest into game! Worship and thank be to thy deity. Of that mattere ye get no more of me. Tell on thy tale, Manciple, I thee pray.” “Well, Sir,” quoth he, “now hearken what I say.”

Notes to the Prologue to the Manciple’s Tale

1. Bob-up-and-down: Mr Wright supposes this to be the village of Harbledown, near Canterbury, which is situated on a hill, and near which there are many ups and downs in the road. Like Boughton, where the Canon and his Yeoman overtook the pilgrims, it stood on the skirts of the Kentish forest of Blean or Blee.

2. Dun is in the mire: a proverbial saying. “Dun” is a name for an ass, derived from his colour.

3. The mention of the Cook here, with no hint that he had already told a story, confirms the indication given by the imperfect condition of his Tale, that Chaucer intended to suppress the Tale altogether, and make him tell a story in some other place.

4. The quintain; called “fan” or “vane,” because it turned round like a weather-cock.

5. Referring to the classification of wine, according to its effects on a man, given in the old “Calendrier des Bergiers,” The man of choleric temperament has “wine of lion;” the sanguine, “wine of ape;” the phlegmatic, “wine of sheep;” the melancholic, “wine of sow.” There is a Rabbinical tradition that, when Noah was planting vines, Satan slaughtered beside them the four animals named; hence the effect of wine in making those who drink it display in turn the characteristics of all the four.

6. The pose: a defluxion or rheum which stops the nose and obstructs the voice.

7. Bring thee to his lure: A phrase in hawking — to recall a hawk to the fist; the meaning here is, that the Cook may one day bring the Manciple to account, or pay him off, for the rebuke of his drunkenness.

THE TALE. <1>

When Phoebus dwelled here in earth adown, As olde bookes make mentioun, He was the moste lusty* bacheler *pleasant Of all this world, and eke* the best archer. *also He slew Python the serpent, as he lay Sleeping against the sun upon a day; And many another noble worthy deed He with his bow wrought, as men maye read. Playen he could on every minstrelsy, And singe, that it was a melody To hearen of his cleare voice the soun’. Certes the king of Thebes, Amphioun, That with his singing walled the city, Could never singe half so well as he. Thereto he was the seemlieste man That is, or was since that the world began; What needeth it his features to descrive? For in this world is none so fair alive. He was therewith full fill’d of gentleness, Of honour, and of perfect worthiness.

This Phoebus, that was flower of bach’lery, As well in freedom* as in chivalry, *generosity For his disport, in sign eke of victory Of Python, so as telleth us the story, Was wont to bearen in his hand a bow. Now had this Phoebus in his house a crow, Which in a cage he foster’d many a day, And taught it speaken, as men teach a jay. White was this crow, as is a snow-white swan, And counterfeit the speech of every man He coulde, when he shoulde tell a tale. Therewith in all this world no nightingale Ne coulde by an hundred thousand deal* *part Singe so wondrous merrily and well. Now had this Phoebus in his house a wife; Which that he loved more than his life. And night and day did ever his diligence Her for to please, and do her reverence: Save only, if that I the sooth shall sayn, Jealous he was, and would have kept her fain. For him were loth y-japed* for to be; *tricked, deceived And so is every wight in such degree; But all for nought, for it availeth nought. A good wife, that is clean of work and thought, Should not be kept in none await* certain: *observation And truely the labour is in vain To keep a shrewe,* for it will not be. *ill-disposed woman This hold I for a very nicety,* *sheer folly To spille* labour for to keepe wives; *lose

Thus writen olde clerkes in their lives. But now to purpose, as I first began. This worthy Phoebus did all that he can To please her, weening, through such pleasance, And for his manhood and his governance, That no man should have put him from her grace; But, God it wot, there may no man embrace As to distrain* a thing, which that nature *succeed in constraining Hath naturally set in a creature. Take any bird, and put it in a cage, And do all thine intent, and thy corage,* *what thy heart prompts To foster it tenderly with meat and drink Of alle dainties that thou canst bethink, And keep it all so cleanly as thou may; Although the cage of gold be never so gay, Yet had this bird, by twenty thousand fold, Lever* in a forest, both wild and cold, *rather Go eate wormes, and such wretchedness. For ever this bird will do his business T’escape out of his cage when that he may: His liberty the bird desireth aye. <2> Let take a cat, and foster her with milk And tender flesh, and make her couch of silk, And let her see a mouse go by the wall, Anon she weiveth* milk, and flesh, and all, *forsaketh And every dainty that is in that house, Such appetite hath she to eat the mouse. Lo, here hath kind* her domination, *nature And appetite flemeth* discretion. *drives out A she-wolf hath also a villain’s kind The lewedeste wolf that she may find, Or least of reputation, will she take In time when *her lust* to have a make.* *she desires *mate All these examples speak I by* these men *with reference to That be untrue, and nothing by women. For men have ever a lik’rous appetite On lower things to perform their delight Than on their wives, be they never so fair, Never so true, nor so debonair.* *gentle, mild Flesh is so newefangled, *with mischance,* *ill luck to it* That we can in no thinge have pleasance That *souneth unto* virtue any while. *accords with

This Phoebus, which that thought upon no guile, Deceived was for all his jollity; For under him another hadde she, A man of little reputation, Nought worth to Phoebus in comparison. The more harm is; it happens often so, Of which there cometh muche harm and woe. And so befell, when Phoebus was absent, His wife anon hath for her leman* sent. *unlawful lover Her leman! certes that is a knavish speech. Forgive it me, and that I you beseech. The wise Plato saith, as ye may read, The word must needs accorde with the deed; If men shall telle properly a thing, The word must cousin be to the working. I am a boistous* man, right thus I say. *rough-spoken, downright There is no difference truely Betwixt a wife that is of high degree (If of her body dishonest she be), And any poore wench, other than this (If it so be they worke both amiss), But, for* the gentle is in estate above, *because She shall be call’d his lady and his love; And, for that other is a poor woman, She shall be call’d his wench and his leman: And God it wot, mine owen deare brother, Men lay the one as low as lies the other. Right so betwixt a *titleless tyrant* *usurper* And an outlaw, or else a thief errant, *wandering The same I say, there is no difference (To Alexander told was this sentence), But, for the tyrant is of greater might By force of meinie* for to slay downright, *followers And burn both house and home, and make all plain,* *level Lo, therefore is he call’d a capitain; And, for the outlaw hath but small meinie, And may not do so great an harm as he, Nor bring a country to so great mischief, Men calle him an outlaw or a thief. But, for I am a man not textuel, *learned in texts I will not tell of texts never a deal;* *whit I will go to my tale, as I began.

When Phoebus’ wife had sent for her leman, Anon they wroughten all their *lust volage.* *light or rash pleasure* This white crow, that hung aye in the cage, Beheld their work, and said never a word; And when that home was come Phoebus the lord, This crowe sung, “Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!” “What? bird,” quoth Phoebus, “what song sing’st thou now? Wert thou not wont so merrily to sing, That to my heart it was a rejoicing To hear thy voice? alas! what song is this?” “By God,” quoth he, “I singe not amiss. Phoebus,” quoth he, “for all thy worthiness, For all thy beauty, and all thy gentleness, For all thy song, and all thy minstrelsy, *For all thy waiting, bleared is thine eye* *despite all thy watching, With one of little reputation, thou art befooled* Not worth to thee, as in comparison, The mountance* of a gnat, so may I thrive; *value For on thy bed thy wife I saw him swive.” What will ye more? the crow anon him told, By sade* tokens, and by wordes bold, *grave, trustworthy How that his wife had done her lechery, To his great shame and his great villainy; And told him oft, he saw it with his eyen. This Phoebus gan awayward for to wrien;* *turn aside Him thought his woeful hearte burst in two. His bow he bent, and set therein a flo,* *arrow And in his ire he hath his wife slain; This is th’ effect, there is no more to sayn. For sorrow of which he brake his minstrelsy, Both harp and lute, gitern* and psaltery; *guitar And eke he brake his arrows and his bow; And after that thus spake he to the crow.

“Traitor,” quoth he, “with tongue of scorpion, Thou hast me brought to my confusion; Alas that I was wrought!* why n’ere** I dead? *made **was not O deare wife, O gem of lustihead,* *pleasantness That wert to me so sad,* and eke so true, *steadfast Now liest thou dead, with face pale of hue, Full guilteless, that durst I swear y-wis!* *certainly O rakel* hand, to do so foul amiss *rash, hasty O troubled wit, O ire reckeless, That unadvised smit’st the guilteless! O wantrust,* full of false suspicion! *distrust <3> Where was thy wit and thy discretion? O! every man beware of rakelness,* *rashness Nor trow* no thing withoute strong witness. *believe Smite not too soon, ere that ye weete* why, *know And *be advised* well and sickerly** *consider* *surely Ere ye *do any execution *take any action Upon your ire* for suspicion. upon your anger* Alas! a thousand folk hath rakel ire Foully fordone, and brought them in the mire. Alas! for sorrow I will myself slee* *slay And to the crow, “O false thief,” said he, “I will thee quite anon thy false tale. Thou sung whilom* like any nightingale, *once on a time Now shalt thou, false thief, thy song foregon,* *lose And eke thy white feathers every one, Nor ever in all thy life shalt thou speak; Thus shall men on a traitor be awreak. *revenged Thou and thine offspring ever shall be blake,* *black Nor ever sweete noise shall ye make, But ever cry against* tempest and rain, *before, in warning of In token that through thee my wife is slain.” And to the crow he start,* and that anon, *sprang And pull’d his white feathers every one, And made him black, and reft him all his song, And eke his speech, and out at door him flung Unto the devil, *which I him betake;* *to whom I commend him* And for this cause be all crowes blake. Lordings, by this ensample, I you pray, Beware, and take keep* what that ye say; *heed Nor telle never man in all your life How that another man hath dight his wife; He will you hate mortally certain. Dan Solomon, as wise clerkes sayn, Teacheth a man to keep his tongue well; But, as I said, I am not textuel. But natheless thus taughte me my dame; “My son, think on the crow, in Godde’s name. My son, keep well thy tongue, and keep thy friend; A wicked tongue is worse than is a fiend: My sone, from a fiend men may them bless.* *defend by crossing My son, God of his endeless goodness themselves Walled a tongue with teeth, and lippes eke, For* man should him advise,** what he speak. *because **consider My son, full often for too muche speech Hath many a man been spilt,* as clerkes teach; *destroyed But for a little speech advisedly Is no man shent,* to speak generally. *ruined My son, thy tongue shouldest thou restrain At alle time, *but when thou dost thy pain* *except when you do To speak of God in honour and prayere. your best effort* The firste virtue, son, if thou wilt lear,* *learn Is to restrain and keepe well thy tongue;<4> Thus learne children, when that they be young. My son, of muche speaking evil advis’d, Where lesse speaking had enough suffic’d, Cometh much harm; thus was me told and taught; In muche speeche sinne wanteth not. Wost* thou whereof a rakel** tongue serveth? *knowest **hasty Right as a sword forcutteth and forcarveth An arm in two, my deare son, right so A tongue cutteth friendship all in two. A jangler* is to God abominable. *prating man Read Solomon, so wise and honourable; Read David in his Psalms, and read Senec’. My son, speak not, but with thine head thou beck,* *beckon, nod Dissimule as thou wert deaf, if that thou hear A jangler speak of perilous mattere. The Fleming saith, and learn *if that thee lest,* **if it please thee* That little jangling causeth muche rest. My son, if thou no wicked word hast said, *Thee thar not dreade for to be bewray’d;* *thou hast no need to But he that hath missaid, I dare well sayn, fear to be betrayed* He may by no way call his word again. Thing that is said is said, and forth it go’th, <5> Though him repent, or be he ne’er so loth; He is his thrall,* to whom that he hath said *slave A tale, *of which he is now evil apaid.* *which he now regrets* My son, beware, and be no author new Of tidings, whether they be false or true; <6> Whereso thou come, amonges high or low, Keep well thy tongue, and think upon the crow.”

Notes to the Manciple’s Tale

1. “The fable of ‘The Crow,’ says Tyrwhitt, “which is the subject of the Manciple’s Tale, has been related by so many authors, from Ovid down to Gower, that it is impossible to say whom Chaucer principally followed. His skill in new dressing an old story was never, perhaps, more successfully exerted.”

2. See the parallel to this passage in the Squire’s Tale, and note 34 to that tale.

3. Wantrust: distrust — want of trust; so “wanhope,” despair - - want of hope.

4. This is quoted in the French “Romance of the Rose,” from Cato “De Moribus,” 1. i., dist. 3: “Virtutem primam esse puta compescere linguam.” (“The first virtue is to be able to control the tongue”)

5. “Semel emissum volat irrevocabile verbum.” (“A word once uttered flies away and cannot be called back”) — Horace, Epist. 1., 18, 71.

6. This caution is also from Cato “De Moribus,” 1. i., dist. 12: “Rumoris fuge ne incipias novus auctor haberi.” (“Do not pass on rumours or be the author of new ones”)

THE PARSON’S TALE.

THE PROLOGUE.

By that the Manciple his tale had ended, The sunne from the south line was descended So lowe, that it was not to my sight Degrees nine-and-twenty as in height. Four of the clock it was then, as I guess, For eleven foot, a little more or less, My shadow was at thilke time, as there, Of such feet as my lengthe parted were In six feet equal of proportion. Therewith the moone’s exaltation,* *rising *In meane* Libra, gan alway ascend, *in the middle of* As we were ent’ring at a thorpe’s* end. *village’s For which our Host, as he was wont to gie,* *govern As in this case, our jolly company, Said in this wise; “Lordings every one, Now lacketh us no more tales than one. Fulfill’d is my sentence and my decree; I trow that we have heard of each degree.* from each class or rank Almost fulfilled is mine ordinance; in the company I pray to God so give him right good chance That telleth us this tale lustily. Sir Priest,” quoth he, “art thou a vicary?* *vicar Or art thou a Parson? say sooth by thy fay.* *faith Be what thou be, breake thou not our play; For every man, save thou, hath told his tale. Unbuckle, and shew us what is in thy mail.* *wallet For truely me thinketh by thy cheer Thou shouldest knit up well a great mattere. Tell us a fable anon, for cocke’s bones.”

This Parson him answered all at ones; “Thou gettest fable none y-told for me, For Paul, that writeth unto Timothy, Reproveth them that *weive soothfastness,* *forsake truth* And telle fables, and such wretchedness. Why should I sowe draff* out of my fist, *chaff, refuse When I may sowe wheat, if that me list? For which I say, if that you list to hear Morality and virtuous mattere, And then that ye will give me audience, I would full fain at Christe’s reverence Do you pleasance lawful, as I can. But, truste well, I am a southern man, I cannot gest,* rom, ram, ruf, <1> by my letter; *relate stories And, God wot, rhyme hold I but little better. And therefore if you list, I will not glose,* *mince matters I will you tell a little tale in prose, To knit up all this feast, and make an end. And Jesus for his grace wit me send To shewe you the way, in this voyage, Of thilke perfect glorious pilgrimage, <2> That hight Jerusalem celestial. And if ye vouchesafe, anon I shall Begin upon my tale, for which I pray Tell your advice,* I can no better say. *opinion But natheless this meditation I put it aye under correction Of clerkes,* for I am not textuel; *scholars I take but the sentence,* trust me well. *meaning, sense Therefore I make a protestation, That I will stande to correction.” Upon this word we have assented soon; For, as us seemed, it was *for to do’n,* *a thing worth doing* To enden in some virtuous sentence,* *discourse And for to give him space and audience; And bade our Host he shoulde to him say That alle we to tell his tale him pray. Our Hoste had. the wordes for us all: “Sir Priest,” quoth he, “now faire you befall; Say what you list, and we shall gladly hear.” And with that word he said in this mannere; “Telle,” quoth he, “your meditatioun, But hasten you, the sunne will adown. Be fructuous,* and that in little space; *fruitful; profitable And to do well God sende you his grace.”

Notes to the Prologue to the Parson’s Tale

1. Rom, ram, ruf: a contemptuous reference to the alliterative poetry which was at that time very popular, in preference even, it would seem, to rhyme, in the northern parts of the country, where the language was much more barbarous and unpolished than in the south.

2. Perfect glorious pilgrimage: the word is used here to signify the shrine, or destination, to which pilgrimage is made.

THE TALE. <1>

[The Parson begins his “little treatise” -(which, if given at length, would extend to about thirty of these pages, and which cannot by any stretch of courtesy or fancy be said to merit the title of a “Tale”) in these words: —]

Our sweet Lord God of Heaven, that no man will perish, but will that we come all to the knowledge of him, and to the blissful life that is perdurable [everlasting], admonishes us by the prophet Jeremiah, that saith in this wise: “Stand upon the ways, and see and ask of old paths, that is to say, of old sentences, which is the good way, and walk in that way, and ye shall find refreshing for your souls,” <2> &c. Many be the spiritual ways that lead folk to our Lord Jesus Christ, and to the reign of glory; of which ways there is a full noble way, and full convenable, which may not fail to man nor to woman, that through sin hath misgone from the right way of Jerusalem celestial; and this way is called penitence. Of which men should gladly hearken and inquire with all their hearts, to wit what is penitence, and whence it is called penitence, and in what manner, and in how many manners, be the actions or workings of penitence, and how many species there be of penitences, and what things appertain and behove to penitence, and what things disturb penitence.

[Penitence is described, on the authority of Saints Ambrose, Isidore, and Gregory, as the bewailing of sin that has been wrought, with the purpose never again to do that thing, or any other thing which a man should bewail; for weeping and not ceasing to do the sin will not avail — though it is to be hoped that after every time that a man falls, be it ever so often, he may find grace to arise through penitence. And repentant folk that leave their sin ere sin leave them, are accounted by Holy Church sure of their salvation, even though the repentance be at the last hour. There are three actions of penitence; that a man be baptized after he has sinned; that he do no deadly sin after receiving baptism; and that he fall into no venial sins from day to day. “Thereof saith St Augustine, that penitence of good and humble folk is the penitence of every day.” The species of penitence are three: solemn, when a man is openly expelled from Holy Church in Lent, or is compelled by Holy Church to do open penance for an open sin openly talked of in the country; common penance, enjoined by priests in certain cases, as to go on pilgrimage naked or barefoot; and privy penance, which men do daily for private sins, of which they confess privately and receive private penance. To very perfect penitence are behoveful and necessary three things: contrition of heart, confession of mouth, and satisfaction; which are fruitful penitence against delight in thinking, reckless speech, and wicked sinful works.

Penitence may be likened to a tree, having its root in contrition, biding itself in the heart as a tree-root does in the earth; out of this root springs a stalk, that bears branches and leaves of confession, and fruit of satisfaction. Of this root also springs a seed of grace, which is mother of all security, and this seed is eager and hot; and the grace of this seed springs of God, through remembrance on the day of judgment and on the pains of hell. The heat of this seed is the love of God, and the desire of everlasting joy; and this heat draws the heart of man to God, and makes him hate his sin. Penance is the tree of life to them that receive it. In penance or contrition man shall understand four things: what is contrition; what are the causes that move a man to contrition; how he should be contrite; and what contrition availeth to the soul. Contrition is the heavy and grievous sorrow that a man receiveth in his heart for his sins, with earnest purpose to confess and do penance, and never more to sin. Six causes ought to move a man to contrition: 1. He should remember him of his sins; 2. He should reflect that sin putteth a man in great thraldom, and all the greater the higher is the estate from which he falls; 3. He should dread the day of doom and the horrible pains of hell; 4. The sorrowful remembrance of the good deeds that man hath omitted to do here on earth, and also the good that he hath lost, ought to make him have contrition; 5. So also ought the remembrance of the passion that our Lord Jesus Christ suffered for our sins; 6. And so ought the hope of three things, that is to say, forgiveness of sin, the gift of grace to do well, and the glory of heaven with which God shall reward man for his good deeds. — All these points the Parson illustrates and enforces at length; waxing especially eloquent under the third head, and plainly setting forth the sternly realistic notions regarding future punishments that were entertained in the time of Chaucer:-] <3>

Certes, all the sorrow that a man might make from the beginning of the world, is but a little thing, at retard of [in comparison with] the sorrow of hell. The cause why that Job calleth hell the land of darkness; <4> understand, that he calleth it land or earth, for it is stable and never shall fail, and dark, for he that is in hell hath default [is devoid] of light natural; for certes the dark light, that shall come out of the fire that ever shall burn, shall turn them all to pain that be in hell, for it sheweth them the horrible devils that them torment. Covered with the darkness of death; that is to say, that he that is in hell shall have default of the sight of God; for certes the sight of God is the life perdurable [everlasting]. The darkness of death, be the sins that the wretched man hath done, which that disturb [prevent] him to see the face of God, right as a dark cloud doth between us and the sun. Land of misease, because there be three manner of defaults against three things that folk of this world have in this present life; that is to say, honours, delights, and riches. Against honour have they in hell shame and confusion: for well ye wot, that men call honour the reverence that man doth to man; but in hell is no honour nor reverence; for certes no more reverence shall be done there to a king than to a knave [servant]. For which God saith by the prophet Jeremiah; “The folk that me despise shall be in despite.” Honour is also called great lordship. There shall no wight serve other, but of harm and torment. Honour is also called great dignity and highness; but in hell shall they be all fortrodden [trampled under foot] of devils. As God saith, “The horrible devils shall go and come upon the heads of damned folk;” and this is, forasmuch as the higher that they were in this present life, the more shall they be abated [abased] and defouled in hell. Against the riches of this world shall they have misease [trouble, torment] of poverty, and this poverty shall be in four things: in default [want] of treasure; of which David saith, “The rich folk that embraced and oned [united] all their heart to treasure of this world, shall sleep in the sleeping of death, and nothing shall they find in their hands of all their treasure.” And moreover, the misease of hell shall be in default of meat and drink. For God saith thus by Moses, “They shall be wasted with hunger, and the birds of hell shall devour them with bitter death, and the gall of the dragon shall be their drink, and the venom of the dragon their morsels.” And furthermore, their misease shall be in default of clothing, for they shall be naked in body, as of clothing, save the fire in which they burn, and other filths; and naked shall they be in soul, of all manner virtues, which that is the clothing of the soul. Where be then the gay robes, and the soft sheets, and the fine shirts? Lo, what saith of them the prophet Isaiah, that under them shall be strewed moths, and their covertures shall be of worms of hell. And furthermore, their misease shall be in default of friends, for he is not poor that hath good friends: but there is no friend; for neither God nor any good creature shall be friend to them, and evereach of them shall hate other with deadly hate. The Sons and the daughters shall rebel against father and mother, and kindred against kindred, and chide and despise each other, both day and night, as God saith by the prophet Micah. And the loving children, that whom loved so fleshly each other, would each of them eat the other if they might. For how should they love together in the pains of hell, when they hated each other in the prosperity of this life? For trust well, their fleshly love was deadly hate; as saith the prophet David; “Whoso loveth wickedness, he hateth his own soul:” and whoso hateth his own soul, certes he may love none other wight in no manner: and therefore in hell is no solace nor no friendship, but ever the more kindreds that be in hell, the more cursing, the more chiding, and the more deadly hate there is among them. And furtherover, they shall have default of all manner delights; for certes delights be after the appetites of the five wits [senses]; as sight, hearing, smelling, savouring [tasting], and touching. But in hell their sight shall be full of darkness and of smoke, and their eyes full of tears; and their hearing full of waimenting [lamenting] and grinting [gnashing] of teeth, as saith Jesus Christ; their nostrils shall be full of stinking; and, as saith Isaiah the prophet, their savouring [tasting] shall be full of bitter gall; and touching of all their body shall be covered with fire that never shall quench, and with worms that never shall die, as God saith by the mouth of Isaiah. And forasmuch as they shall not ween that they may die for pain, and by death flee from pain, that may they understand in the word of Job, that saith, “There is the shadow of death.” Certes a shadow hath the likeness of the thing of which it is shadowed, but the shadow is not the same thing of which it is shadowed: right so fareth the pain of hell; it is like death, for the horrible anguish; and why? for it paineth them ever as though they should die anon; but certes they shall not die. For, as saith Saint Gregory, “To wretched caitiffs shall be given death without death, and end without end, and default without failing; for their death shall always live, and their end shall evermore begin, and their default shall never fail.” And therefore saith Saint John the Evangelist, “They shall follow death, and they shall not find him, and they shall desire to die, and death shall flee from them.” And eke Job saith, that in hell is no order of rule. And albeit that God hath created all things in right order, and nothing without order, but all things be ordered and numbered, yet nevertheless they that be damned be not in order, nor hold no order. For the earth shall bear them no fruit (for, as the prophet David saith, “God shall destroy the fruit of the earth, as for them”); nor water shall give them no moisture, nor the air no refreshing, nor the fire no light. For as saith Saint Basil, “The burning of the fire of this world shall God give in hell to them that be damned, but the light and the clearness shall be given in heaven to his children; right as the good man giveth flesh to his children, and bones to his hounds.” And for they shall have no hope to escape, saith Job at last, that there shall horror and grisly dread dwell without end. Horror is always dread of harm that is to come, and this dread shall ever dwell in the hearts of them that be damned. And therefore have they lost all their hope for seven causes. First, for God that is their judge shall be without mercy to them; nor they may not please him; nor none of his hallows [saints]; nor they may give nothing for their ransom; nor they have no voice to speak to him; nor they may not flee from pain; nor they have no goodness in them that they may shew to deliver them from pain.

[Under the fourth head, of good works, the Parson says: —]

The courteous Lord Jesus Christ will that no good work be lost, for in somewhat it shall avail. But forasmuch as the good works that men do while they be in good life be all amortised [killed, deadened] by sin following, and also since all the good works that men do while they be in deadly sin be utterly dead, as for to have the life perdurable [everlasting], well may that man that no good works doth, sing that new French song, J’ai tout perdu — mon temps et mon labour <5>. For certes, sin bereaveth a man both the goodness of nature, and eke the goodness of grace. For soothly the grace of the Holy Ghost fareth like fire, that may not be idle; for fire faileth anon as it forleteth [leaveth] its working, and right so grace faileth anon as it forleteth its working. Then loseth the sinful man the goodness of glory, that only is to good men that labour and work. Well may he be sorry then, that oweth all his life to God, as long as he hath lived, and also as long as he shall live, that no goodness hath to pay with his debt to God, to whom he oweth all his life: for trust well he shall give account, as saith Saint Bernard, of all the goods that have been given him in his present life, and how he hath them dispended, insomuch that there shall not perish an hair of his head, nor a moment of an hour shall not perish of his time, that he shall not give thereof a reckoning.

[Having treated of the causes, the Parson comes to the manner, of contrition — which should be universal and total, not merely of outward deeds of sin, but also of wicked delights and thoughts and words; “for certes Almighty God is all good, and therefore either he forgiveth all, or else right naught.” Further, contrition should be “wonder sorrowful and anguishous,” and also continual, with steadfast purpose of confession and amendment. Lastly, of what contrition availeth, the Parson says, that sometimes it delivereth man from sin; that without it neither confession nor satisfaction is of any worth; that it “destroyeth the prison of hell, and maketh weak and feeble all the strengths of the devils, and restoreth the gifts of the Holy Ghost and of all good virtues, and cleanseth the soul of sin, and delivereth it from the pain of hell, and from the company of the devil, and from the servage [slavery] of sin, and restoreth it to all goods spiritual, and to the company and communion of Holy Church.” He who should set his intent to these things, would no longer be inclined to sin, but would give his heart and body to the service of Jesus Christ, and thereof do him homage. “For, certes, our Lord Jesus Christ hath spared us so benignly in our follies, that if he had not pity on man’s soul, a sorry song might we all sing.”

The Second Part of the Parson’s Tale or Treatise opens with an explanation of what is confession — which is termed “the second part of penitence, that is, sign of contrition;” whether it ought needs be done or not; and what things be convenable to true confession. Confession is true shewing of sins to the priest, without excusing, hiding, or forwrapping [disguising] of anything, and without vaunting of good works. “Also, it is necessary to understand whence that sins spring, and how they increase, and which they be.” From Adam we took original sin; “from him fleshly descended be we all, and engendered of vile and corrupt matter;” and the penalty of Adam’s transgression dwelleth with us as to temptation, which penalty is called concupiscence. “This concupiscence, when it is wrongfully disposed or ordained in a man, it maketh him covet, by covetise of flesh, fleshly sin by sight of his eyes, as to earthly things, and also covetise of highness by pride of heart.” The Parson proceeds to shew how man is tempted in his flesh to sin; how, after his natural concupiscence, comes suggestion of the devil, that is to say the devil’s bellows, with which he bloweth in man the fire of con cupiscence; and how man then bethinketh him whether he will do or no the thing to which he is tempted. If he flame up into pleasure at the thought, and give way, then is he all dead in soul; “and thus is sin accomplished, by temptation, by delight, and by consenting; and then is the sin actual.” Sin is either venial, or deadly; deadly, when a man loves any creature more than Jesus Christ our Creator, venial, if he love Jesus Christ less than he ought. Venial sins diminish man’s love to God more and more, and may in this wise skip into deadly sin; for many small make a great. “And hearken this example: A great wave of the sea cometh sometimes with so great a violence, that it drencheth [causes to sink] the ship: and the same harm do sometimes the small drops, of water that enter through a little crevice in the thurrok [hold, bilge], and in the bottom of the ship, if men be so negligent that they discharge them not betimes. And therefore, although there be difference betwixt these two causes of drenching, algates [in any case] the ship is dreint [sunk]. Right so fareth it sometimes of deadly sin,” and of venial sins when they multiply in a man so greatly as to make him love worldly things more than God. The Parson then enumerates specially a number of sins which many a man peradventure deems no sins, and confesses them not, and yet nevertheless they are truly sins: — ]

This is to say, at every time that a man eateth and drinketh more than sufficeth to the sustenance of his body, in certain he doth sin; eke when he speaketh more than it needeth, he doth sin; eke when he heareth not benignly the complaint of the poor; eke when he is in health of body, and will not fast when other folk fast, without cause reasonable; eke when he sleepeth more than needeth, or when he cometh by that occasion too late to church, or to other works of charity; eke when he useth his wife without sovereign desire of engendrure, to the honour of God, or for the intent to yield his wife his debt of his body; eke when he will not visit the sick, or the prisoner, if he may; eke if he love wife, or child, or other worldly thing, more than reason requireth; eke if he flatter or blandish more than he ought for any necessity; eke if he minish or withdraw the alms of the poor; eke if he apparail [prepare] his meat more deliciously than need is, or eat it too hastily by likerousness [gluttony]; eke if he talk vanities in the church, or at God’s service, or that he be a talker of idle words of folly or villainy, for he shall yield account of them at the day of doom; eke when he behighteth [promiseth] or assureth to do things that he may not perform; eke when that by lightness of folly he missayeth or scorneth his neighbour; eke when he hath any wicked suspicion of thing, that he wot of it no soothfastness: these things, and more without number, be sins, as saith Saint Augustine.

[No earthly man may eschew all venial sins; yet may he refrain him, by the burning love that he hath to our Lord Jesus Christ, and by prayer and confession, and other good works, so that it shall but little grieve. “Furthermore, men may also refrain and put away venial sin, by receiving worthily the precious body of Jesus Christ; by receiving eke of holy water; by alms-deed; by general confession of Confiteor at mass, and at prime, and at compline [evening service]; and by blessing of bishops and priests, and by other good works.” The Parson then proceeds to weightier matters:— ]

Now it is behovely [profitable, necessary] to tell which be deadly sins, that is to say, chieftains of sins; forasmuch as all they run in one leash, but in diverse manners. Now be they called chieftains, forasmuch as they be chief, and of them spring all other sins. The root of these sins, then, is pride, the general root of all harms. For of this root spring certain branches: as ire, envy, accidie <6> or sloth, avarice or covetousness (to common understanding), gluttony, and lechery: and each of these sins hath his branches and his twigs, as shall be declared in their chapters following. And though so be, that no man can tell utterly the number of the twigs, and of the harms that come of pride, yet will I shew a part of them, as ye shall understand. There is inobedience, vaunting, hypocrisy, despite, arrogance, impudence, swelling of hearte, insolence, elation, impatience, strife, contumacy, presumption, irreverence, pertinacity, vain- glory and many another twig that I cannot tell nor declare. . . .]