As a period in which ideological norms were largely dictated by religious authorities, the Middle Ages were characterised by writers who appear to be forthcoming in expressing their religious beliefs. The plethora of religious poems during this period seems to confirm this impression. Yet any assumption that medieval writers shared the religious views of established authorities is problematised by the presence of ambiguous motifs and ideas in their texts, indicating possible evasiveness about personal beliefs that deviated from the standard doctrines and discourses of the Church. This paper argues that while major medieval writers, especially Chaucer, were not ostensibly evasive about their faith, some of their key texts lend themselves to religious interpretations that were in tension with the teachings of ecclesiastical authority. Medieval writers walked a tightrope in their expression of religious belief, between cautious privacy on the one hand, and outspoken bluntness on the other.
Most medieval works appear to be uninhibited in expressing the underlying religious beliefs of the time. As Douglas Gray notes, a belief in Christianity was taken for granted during the period (59), and it seems that faith was “effectively the only option available” within the medieval intellectual climate (Cooper xi). Accordingly, some of the best-known writings of the Middle Ages openly adhere to orthodox Christian doctrines, suggesting that their writers were sincere believers in the teachings of the Church. [1] For instance, in the early devotional epic poem The Dream of the Rood, the use of prosopropoeia allows the poet to narrate events from the perspective of Christ’s cross, outlining key biblical doctrines in the context of a Christianised culture where other writers were borrowing heavily from pagan myths and images.
The doctrine of sin is illustrated with dramatic starkness when the Dreamer laments his utter sinfulness, in contrast with the glory of the Cross: “ond ic synnum fah, / forwunded mid wommum” (“And I with sins was stained, wounded with guilt,” 13-14a). [2] The Dreamer’s steadfast faith in the Cross is derived from his breathtaking vision, reflecting what Richard Payne calls a “mixture of awe, contrition, and fear” (336) that is usually associated with the anticipation of Judgement. The Cross is presented not merely as an instrument of torture but as a jewel- encrusted symbol, “gegyred mid golde” (“all bedecked with gold,” 16a), and bearing witness to the glory of Christ who is portrayed as a self-sacrificing warrior: Ongyrede hine þa geong hæleð, (þæt wæs god ælmihtig),
strang ond stiðmod, gestah he on gealgan heanne,
modig on manigra gesyhðe, þa he wolde mancyn lysan. (39-41)
Then the young hero (who was God almighty) Got ready, resolute and strong in heart. He climbed onto the lofty gallows-tree,
Bold in the sight of many watching men, when He intended to redeem mankind.
By depicting Christ as a triumphant champion rather than a submissive victim, the poet expresses his unyielding faith in the indomitable Messiah.
In the poem, the tenets of Christian belief – the passion, crucifixion, and resurrection of Christ – are rendered in detail. The Dreamer’s tale is a model of complete spiritual conversion, and the Resurrection, as the integral article of faith, is declared with epic grandeur: “deað he þær byrigde. Hwæðere eft Dryhten aras / mid his miclan mihte mannum to helpe” (“He tasted death / Thereon; and yet the Lord arose again / By his great might to come to human aid,” 101-102). It is in the faithful belief in the power of Christ, a commitment that is exemplified by the cross, that the road to salvation is paved. Such commitment extends to belief in the Day of Judgement, which is unequivocally affirmed by the voice of the Rood: “... ðurh ðā rōde sceal rīce gesēcan / of eorðwege æghwylc sāwl, / sēo þe mid wealdende wunian þenceð” (“... Through the cross each soul / May journey to the heavens from this earth, / Who with the Ruler thinks to go and dwell,” 119-121). Through the depiction of the centrality of the Cross, the poet proclaims a message brimming with human emotions and divine significance – the Cross is nothing less than the vehicle of the soul towards eternal paradise. The poet thus evinces an unwavering Christian belief, underscoring both his reinforced hope for salvation and his passionate devotion in the service of faith.
Later medieval lyrics have similarly reflected such piety, often expressing conventional religious doctrines without any apparent equivocation. However, the religious elements of some lyrics have inspired divergent interpretations, some of which have not been in line with ecclesiastical and political authority. In the opening verses of the fourteenth-century lyric “The Pointless Pride of Man”, [3] the poet conveys a deeply tragic awareness, expressing what R.T. Davies calls “contempt for the world” (40). In particular, the poet contemplates the sin of pride by recounting the story of Adam and Eve after the fall: When Adam delf, dug And Eve span, Spir, if thou will spede, For your advantage, ask. Whare was than The pride of man That now merres his mede? That now stands in the way of his (heavenly) reward. (60, 1-6)
The evocation of an early age, free from the pride that plagues humanity, allows the poet to raise troubling questions about the state of a world in which the harsh yoke of sin and oppression remains a sorrowful burden. Noticeably, the structure and diction of the opening lines bear more than a passing resemblance to the slogan of the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381: “When Adam dalf, and Eve span / Wo was thanne a gentilman?” (“When Adam dug, and Eve span / Who was then a gentleman?”, Green 188). [4] This slogan was potentially inflammatory and, as Helen Cooper points out, it appeals to God’s creation of humankind to show that social hierarchies were not divinely ordained (CR xiv). [5] While the author of the lyric may not have subscribed to the seditious sentiments of the slogan, the similarity between the verses highlights the common view that the early post-lapsarian era was unstained by the heavy moral and spiritual corruption that were afflictions upon the society of the medieval period (Green 188). In fact, Cooper suggests that it is “a small step” from such attitudes, to Chaucer’s assertions that true gentilesse, or gentility, is “a matter of virtue, not birth”, and it is precisely those assertions which would run counter to the concept of God-given social hierarchy advocated by the gentry and aristocracy (CR xiv). While the writers of medieval religious lyrics may not have been evasive in articulating their Christian beliefs, they expressed political views which could be regarded as potentially subversive.
Similarly, Chaucer’s tales give the initial impression of forthright adherence to orthodox religious doctrine. Cooper observes that religious structures are “pervasive in his works” primarily because such structures were pervasive in medieval society (CR xvii). However, Cooper also highlights that Chaucer’s religious beliefs have been difficult to evaluate since he rarely penned religious poetry (CR xvii). When Chaucer did allude to Christian sources, his seemingly orthodox depictions of religion were often undermined by characters whose reliability had been compromised. For instance, the Pardoner’s Prologue affirms standard Christian teachings like the necessity of receiving forgiveness from Christ for sins: “And Jhesu Crist, that is oure soules leche, / So graunte yow his pardoun to receyve, / For that is best; I wol yow nat deceyve” (“And Jesus Christ, who is our souls’ leech, / So grant you his pardon to receive; / For that is best; I will you not deceive”, VI. 916-18). However, the problem is that such advice is provided by the Pardoner, whose habitual lying has been established by his unashamed boasts of selling false relics to gullible victims. As he admits, “Thanne shewe I forth my longe cristal stones, / Yerammed ful of cloutes and of bones; / Relikes been they, as wenen they echoon” (“Then show I forth my hollow crystal-stones, / Crammed full of rags and of bones; / Relics are these, as they think, every one,” VI. 347-49). The Pardoner feels no remorse for his deception, and his added reassurance “I wol yow nat deceyve” seems to ring hollow in the light of his earlier speech. Far from being reassured by the Pardoner’s claim not to deceive, the reader is alerted to the dubiousness of his promise. By entrusting the articulation of religious doctrine to unreliable characters, Chaucer raises suspicions about the motives of professedly religious figures, exposing the sheer gap between the high ideals of faith and the corruption of worldly reality.
The portrayal of the Pardoner also supports the argument that Chaucer’s representations of religion constitute a direct critique on aspects of the religious establishment. As the Pardoner asserts: “My theme is alwey oon and evere was – / Radix malorum est Cupiditas” (“My theme is always one and ever was – / Greed is the root of all evils,” VI. 333-4 and repeated at VI. 425-6). The Pardoner echoes 1 Timothy 6:10 (“For the love of money is the root of all evil”), yet avarice is the very sin he commits. A.C. Friend notes that by choosing the verse as the theme of the Pardoner’s Prologue, Chaucer was treading on dangerous ground (305). In 1395, less than two decades before the Ellesmere Manuscript of The Canterbury Tales was produced, the secular clerk Robert Lychlade was arrested by Richard II for drawing on the verse in a sermon against clerics who preached for money (Friend 305). Similarly, in his lampooning of materialistic churchmen, Chaucer stresses the covetousness that blemished representatives of the Church, issuing a condemnation of religious hypocrisy and avarice. Furthermore, when the Pardoner addresses his audience, he claims to resemble a dove, extending his neck to look around: “Thanne peyne I me to strecche forth the nekke, / And est and west upon the peple I bekke, / As dooth a dowve sittynge on a berne” (“I am at pains then to stretch forth my neck, / And east and west upon the people I beck, / As does a dove sitting on a barn,” VI. 395-97). Cooper rightly notes that this image of the Pardoner amounts to “a ludicrously animalistic downgrading of the dove of the Holy Ghost” (TCT 262). [6] The juxtaposition of images is both disturbingly incongruous and laughably ironic, as the divine and the holy are overlaid with the banal and the earthly. Perhaps it may be pointed out that it is the Pardoner and not Chaucer himself – the character and not the author – who is responsible for this downgrading, and the message and the messenger have to be distinguished. Even if Chaucer depicted fraudulent clergymen, he did not stray into outright religious dissent, and it is possible that he may have rejected some messengers of the Church while still accepting Christian doctrine.
The concern, though, is that there remains a fine line between reformism and heresy, and Chaucer’s association with unorthodox Christian movements only serves to complicate an understanding of his religious beliefs. As F.M. McCormack observes, the extent of Chaucer’s connection to the Lollard movement has been a matter of debate (35). Lollardy was a decentralised movement that developed in response to the teachings of the dissident theologian John Wycliffe, who advocated the questioning of papal authority, the return to scripture as the ultimate source of authority, and the rejection of the belief in transubstantiation, amongst other beliefs (McCormack 35). [7] The movement was a challenge to the supremacy of the Catholic Church, and Chaucer’s use of Lollard motifs and ideas thus illuminates his religious beliefs. In the Pardoner’s Tale, for instance, the Pardoner lambasts the evils of gluttonous desire by employing the vocabulary of transubstantiation: Thise cookes, how they stampe, and streyne, and grynde,
And turnen substaunce into accident To fulfile al thy likerous talent! (VI. 538-40)
As McCormack explains, “accidents” referred to outward appearances, while “substance” was the inner reality within the object (38). Such terms are clear but restrained references to the controversy over transubstantiation, [8] which was a lively topic in Chaucer’s time (Benson 908). However, these serious and philosophical terms are now employed within the rather mundane context of cooks preparing food. Chaucer’s purpose is unclear – while he could be merely evoking humour, his allusions to orthodox and Lollard viewpoints could also indicate a serious intention to be involved in the debate. Furthermore, in terms of Chaucer’s religious beliefs, it is unstated whether he personally subscribed to the doctrine of transubstantiation. Chaucer was enigmatic in his dealings with potentially seditious sentiments, permitting the “interpretative indeterminacy” (McCormack 38) that governs the text.
Ambiguity about Chaucer’s personal beliefs is also present in the Wife of Bath’s Prologue, which also employs Lollard imagery and discourse. Cooper discerns that Chaucer has portrayed the Wife as influenced by Lollardy (CR xvi); for instance, the Pardoner praises the Wife by calling her a “noble prechour” (“noble preacher”, III. 165). In her appropriation of clerical duties, she resembles the female Lollards who were distinguished for their skill in preaching as well as their ability to recite scripture verbatim (McCormack 39). The Wife’s repeated appeals to Scripture and the authority of the Bible also echoes points made in the Lollard Twelve Conclusions of 1395 (TCT 150), though the verses she cites are conveniently adjusted to suit her own purposes. For instance, the Wife claims that “the Apostel [...] / [...] bad oure housbondes for to love us weel” (“the Apostle [...] / [...] bade our husbands to love us well,” III. 160-1) [9], but ignores the Apostle when he also exhorts women to obey their husbands [10]. Nevertheless, the Wife’s appeal to the Bible resonates with Lollard beliefs about the primacy of Scripture. However, Chaucer is able to “divert much of [the] danger” (TCT 150) by expressing such controversial beliefs through the unreliable character of the Wife. In ascribing subversive religious sentiments to the self-serving Wife, he leaves some of his personal beliefs unarticulated, revealing a touch of evasiveness in his attempts to shield himself from the charges of heresy and heterodoxy.
Medieval writers like Chaucer, while largely open about their faith, did expose sentiments—occasionally couched in subtle terms—which diverged from orthodox Christian narratives. The need to avoid censure and punishment meant that medieval writers were often obliged to conform to prevailing religious doctrines; yet writers like Chaucer still preferred the depiction of the plural, rather than the singular and the absolute. Encoding potentially subversive sentiments, Chaucer and other medieval writers permit indeterminacy and polysemy of meaning in their works, awaiting the interpretation of the reader. Although medieval writers were immersed in a culture that privileged the spiritual over the material, not all subscribed to the religious teachings of their age. Instead, they juxtaposed authorised and unauthorised discourses in an effort to raise questions about the role of political interests in religious rhetoric but also the hypocrisy and materialism that blighted ecclesiastical institutions.
Ow Yeong Wai Kit has recently graduated from NUS as an English Literature major and Philosophy minor. He was President of the NUS Buddhist Society (2010-2011), and Vice- President of NUS Interfaith (2009-2012). His research interests include medieval and modern religious literature, contemporary British and Irish poetry, as well as topics in the philosophy of religion. He plans to pursue graduate studies and a career in education.
[1] I do not want to make any unwarranted assumption that the personal religious beliefs of a writer are inevitably expressed by the narrative voice of his text. However, for the purposes of this essay, this analysis is based on the supposition that the author of The Dream of the Rood shared the religious sentiments espoused by the Dreamer.
[2] All quotations from The Dream of the Rood are taken from The Vercelli Book, edited by G. P. Krapp. New York: Columbia University Press, 1932. 61-65. The text is available online, courtesy of Mary Rambaran-Olm, University of Glasgow (2002). Translations are by Richard Hamer in A Choice of Anglo-Saxon Verse. London: Faber, 1970. Hereafter, quotations will be cited by line number.
[3] The poem can be found in Medieval English Lyrics. Ed. R.T. Davies. London: Faber and Faber, 1963.
[4] In fact, the fourteenth-century preacher John Ball used the rhyming couplet as the text of his sermon at Blackheath, triggering the masses to rebel against their overlords (Green 188).
[5] In this essay, I refer to two works by Helen Cooper. Hence, my references to her introduction in Chaucer and Religion (Cambridge: D.S. Brewer, 2010) will be indicated as ‘CR’.
[6] As noted earlier, I refer to two works by Helen Cooper in this essay. Hence, my references to her introduction in The Canterbury Tales (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989) will be indicated as ‘TCT’.
[7] McCormack notes that it was likely that Chaucer was quite familiar with Lollardy – his own former patron, John of Gaunt, had supported Wycliffe with his disputes with the Church, at least until Wycliffe ventured to deny the doctrine of transubstantiation (36).
[8] The Catholic Church maintained that during consecration, the substance of bread and wine was turned into the body and blood of Christ, whereas the accidents of the bread and wine remained unchanged, but Lollards rejected this doctrine as an absurdity (McCormack 38).
[9] The Wife is appealing to Ephesians 5:25, “Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it.”
[10] Ephesians 5:24, “Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in every thing.”
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