‘Amend it? I don’t think so. There is nothing you can do about it. You are old. You are ugly. You come from such low stock that it is little wonder that I twist and turn. My lineage is besmirched! I wish to God that my heart would break!’
‘Is that the only reason for your distress?’
‘Only! What do you think?’
‘Well, sir, I think I can cure it. I think I may do you a service, in a day or two if necessary. If you showed me a little bit more consideration, I might help you out. But please don’t go on about your high rank. You get your lineage from old money. That is all. It isn’t worth a damn. It is sheer conceit. You should be more concerned with human virtue. You should give more consideration to those who perform good works, in private and in public. They are the real gentlemen. Our Saviour tells us that true nobility comes from His example, not from the money bags of our rich ancestors. Although they may give us all of their worldly goods, from which we claim good breeding, they cannot bequeath to us the gift of holy living. An honest man is made by honest deeds. That is the only lesson your forefathers can impart to you.
‘I suppose you know the high words of the Florentine poet, Dante, who taught us this sentence – “A man cannot climb heavenward on his own slender branches. God wills us to claim from Him our strength and purpose.” The only things we can inherit from our ancestors are material goods that in fact may harm or injure us. Everyone knows this as well as I do. If virtue were of natural growth in certain families, proceeding down the line from parent to child, then they could do nothing but good. It would be impossible for them to be caught in villainy or vice.
‘Take a piece of fire. Carry it into the darkest house between here and the Caucasian mountains. Shut the doors upon it and depart. The fire will keep on burning, pure and unsullied, just as if twenty thousand people were observing it. It will perform its natural function until it expires. I stake my life upon it. So now you may understand what I have been telling you. Gentility cannot be borrowed or purchased. Fire is always and forever fire. Men are of more mixed natures, susceptible to change. God knows it happens often enough that the son of a nobleman behaves shamefully. There are some who make great play of their ancestry, and of their virtuous grandfathers and great-grandfathers, but who themselves are only notable as villains. They are not like their ancestors at all. A man may call himself a lord or an earl but, in reality, he is a sot and a churl. Nobility is the renown won by others who came before you. It does not belong to you by right of birth. God alone can grant you virtue. God alone is the source and spring of grace.
‘Valerius Maximus was a Roman author. Have you heard of him? He praises the nobility of Tullius Hostilius, who rose from poverty to become the third king of Rome. That Hostilius was a real gentleman. Seneca, and Boethius, both teach us that gentle natures are seen in gentle deeds.
‘And therefore, dear husband, I conclude as follows. Even if my ancestors were humble, I hope by the grace of God and by my own efforts to lead a virtuous life. When I choose virtue, and eschew sin, then I will be a gentlewoman. And do you blame me for my poverty? Did not the Saviour, the incarnate God, choose a poor life on earth? Every man, woman and child will surely know that Jesus, king of heaven, would not have made a bad or sinful choice. Seneca and other philosophers tell us that cheerful and willing poverty is a great blessing. Whoever is satisfied with a slender purse, even though he does not have a shirt on his back, I hold rich indeed. He who is greedy is wretched; he longs for that which he cannot have. He that has nothing, and wants nothing, is a man of wealth; you may call him a knave, but I call him a spiritual knight. Poverty sings. You may know that quotation from Juvenal, to the effect that the poor man whistles and dances before thieves. Poverty may seem hateful but it is in truth a blessing. It encourages hard work. It teaches the wise man patience. It teaches the patient man wisdom. It may seem miserable. It may be a state no one wishes. But it brings us closer to God. It brings us self-knowledge. Poverty is the eyeglass through which we see our true friends. So therefore, dear husband, cease your complaining. I have done you no harm. Do not rebuke me for my poverty.
‘But then you tell me that I am old. I don’t know whether it is taught in any learned books, but I always believed that gentlemen were meant to reverence old age. You call an old man “father”, do you not? I am sure that I could find many authors who say so. Why, then, do you call me “foul” and “ancient”? At least you will not be a cuckold. Age and ugliness are the best guardians of chastity in existence. Nevertheless I know that you have a good appetite. I will satisfy it as best I can. So choose now one of two things. You can have me old and ugly until I die, in which case I will be your humble and faithful wife obedient in everything. Or you can have me young and beautiful, in which case you can expect many visitors in the house; the crowd may flock to another warm place, too, but I leave that to your imagination. Which will it be? Choose now and forever hold your peace.’
The knight thought about this and could not make up his mind. He sighed, and shook his head, and sighed again. Finally he said, ‘Dear wife, my lady and my love, I put myself in your hands. Choose whichever fate most pleases you. And choose the one most honourable to both of us. I don’t care which way you decide. As long as you want it.’
‘So am I in control?’ she asked him. ‘May I decide what is best for our marriage?’
‘Sure,’ he replied. ‘That suits me.’
‘Then kiss me. We no longer need to quarrel. By my oath I will now be both women for you. I will be beautiful and faithful, too. May I die a mad woman rather than let you down! I will be as good and true to you as any wife ever was or ever will be. And that’s not all. In the morning I will be as fair as any lady, empress or queen in the whole world. Do with me what you will. But now just lift up the curtain and look at me.’
The knight was amazed to find her as young and as beautiful as she had promised. He took her up in his arms joyfully, and kissed her a thousand times. True to her word, she obeyed him in everything. She never once displeased him. And so they lived together in peace and harmony for the rest of their lives. God send us all gentle husbands – especially if they are young and good in bed. Pray to God, too, that we women outlive them. Cursed be the men who will not obey their wives. And double curses to mean husbands! That is all I have to say.
Heere endeth the Wyves Tale of Bathe
The Friar’s Prologue
The Prologe of the Freres Tale
That worthy man, that Friar, had been frowning and glowering at the Summoner all the time that the Wife had been speaking. He had not forgotten their argument. But, for the sake of decency, he had not said anything vicious. Now he spoke up. ‘Dame Alison,’ he said, ‘good Wife of Bath, God send you a long life! I swear that you have touched upon a matter for debate by scholars, and you have acquitted yourself very well. But, ma dame, while we are riding here together our only task is to entertain one another. There is no need to engage in moral discussion. Leave that to the priests in their pulpits. So, if the rest of the company are agreed, I will now tell you a funny story about a summoner. I think you will all admit that there is nothing good to be said about that profession. Summoners are the pits. Of course I am not referring to any individual here.’ He glanced at the Summoner before continuing. ‘A summoner is a jackal. He runs up and down with writs of arrest for fornication. And of course, consequently, he gets beaten up all the time.’