FLORILEGIUM 10, 1988-91
WHERE ARE CHAUCER’S “RETRACCIOUNS”?
Victor Yelverton Haines
C haucer s retracciouns” are to be found th ro u g h o u t his w ork w here he
ironically p resents a m eaning from which he pulls back, w ithdraw s, or re­
tra c ts. In th e difference betw een th e m eaning retracted from an d th e right
m eaning “re tra c ted to ,” th e re a d e r’s response is exercised in an eth ical test.
C h au cer’s good “e n te n te ” engages th e reader in th e rhetoric o f “retraccio u n ”
as it applies th ro u g h o u t his w ork an d n o t ju s t in w hat has been called his
“R etrac tio n ” a t th e end o f “T h e P a rso n ’s T ale.” 1
W hen C haucer th e scrip to r w rites of his conversation w ith th e M onk,
for exam ple, “A nd I seyde his opinion was good,” C h aucer’s in te n tio n in its
ethical co n tex t is to pull th e reader back, to re tra c t, from a stra ig h t reading
th a t th e M onk’s opinion is in fact good. T h is is one o f m an y o f C h au ce r’s
“retraccio u n s,” as he refers to th e m in th e plu ral a t th e end o f The Canter­
bury Tales in th e Epilogue to “T h e P a rso n ’s T ale.” In fact, th e m eaning we
are fam iliar w ith in th e so-called “R etractio n ,” th a t C haucer w ished to re­
tra c t or an n u l th e w orks them selves, is itself a m eaning from w hich C haucer
in tended us to re tra c t. I t is th ere in th e te x t ju s t as th e m eaning th a t the
M onk s opinion is good is in th e tex t, and C haucer intended it to be there:
it w ould p ro tect him from vicious censors. B u t he also in tended a m ore
su b tle and m o ral m eaning for th e “R etractio n ,” which m odern readers by
and large have m issed. A rig h t reading of th e “R etractio n ” involves obsolete
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m eanings o f four key w ords in C hau cer’s text: intent, revoke, retract, and
guilt, w ords so fam iliar we do not suspect th em of any alien m eaning. Ex­
pressed in th is vocabulary, fu rtherm ore, are concepts usually m issing in the
p resu m p tio n s of m o d ern u nderstanding. F irst, th e re a d e r’s response m u st
be considered an eth ical response. As th e Gawain p o stscrip t says: “Hony
soyt qui m al pense.” In th a t we are all to tell ou r sto ry in redeem ed history,
we are to becom e sto ry tellers like th e pilgrim s an d to practise, as D avid
W illiam s p u ts it, b o th good “audienceship an d a u th o rsh ip ” (100). T h e inte n tio n a lity o f a te x t is a com m unal pro ject o f b o th a u th o r and reader. As
we m ig h t expect o f a cultu re of th e book, Lee P a tte rso n p o in ts out,
medieval misprison brought with it little b u t anxiety. F ar from freeing read­
ers from the burden of the past, it delivered them in to th e hands of the
enemy: w itness th e tw o m ost famous of all medieval m isreaders, Paolo and
Francesca. . . . A nd they are significantly com pared to o th er exem plary read­
ers, A ugustine reading the Scriptures in his garden and A belard and Heloise
reading th e auctores together. (141)
In his oeuvre, C haucer frequently expresses his concern for the re a d e r’s
in te n t; an d in th e “R e tra c tio n ,” C h au cer’s sta te m e n t o f his own in te n t im ­
plies th e in te n tio n a lity o f th e te x t an d th e re a d e r’s ow n learning in the
in te n t o f “ oure d o c trin e .” Unless th e read er’s response is u n derstood in its
eth ical m o m en t, it is difficult to figure o u t w hy C haucer could be asking
for forgiveness o f his “g iltes,” nam ely for “translacio ns an d enditynges” ju s t
after saying “ ‘Al th a t is w riten is w riten for oure d o c trin e ,’ and th a t is
m yn e n te n te .” I t m u st be clear th a t th ere is no book a sa in t cannot read,
nor any te x t a sinner can n o t corrupt. Som e reader response m ay indeed be
wicked; an d a read er can sin. B u t can good a u th o ria l in te n tio n have any
g uilt for such sin? T h is question involves a second idea, also foreign to our
m in d s — th a t th e n o tio n o f guilt allows for in v o lu n tary sin, th a t one can be
g u ilty th ro u g h defaute for w h at h appens by accident as in m anslaughter;
for th e w ickedness o f others, such as m inors in o n e’s care; for w h at one
fails to realize in sins of om ission, as in th e unconscious heritag e of racism ,
sexism , o riginal sin, a n d so fo rth , or th e thou g h tless personal failures of
self-righteousness an d pride.
In ord er to u n d e rsta n d th e te x t of C h au cer’s “R etra c tio n ” as he m ean t
it, we m u st be p rep ared to u n d erstan d th a t he could feel g u ilt for how
readers h ad failed to get th e m oral p o in t of some o f his irony and had fallen
in to vicious in te rp re ta tio n an d been wicked in, for exam ple, condoning the
b eh av io u r of th e M onk. T h e m oral tests C haucer set m ig h t have been too
h ard . T h e failure o f various different readers, w hich C haucer could have
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observed in his lifetim e, w ould be an ethical failure in the jo in t in ten tio n ality
of reader an d a u th o r. E th ical failure is sin, th e very failure C haucer prays
“th a t C rist for his grete m ercy foryeve m e th e synne.”
One fu rth e r p roclivity of m ediaeval in te rp re ta tio n needs to be rein­
forced, perhaps, if we are to get w h at C haucer is saying: th e view from a
tem p o ral aevum ensures th e force of th e sim ple present tense of “revoke” :
“to call back a vice from p eople.” C haucer revokes vanity in the te x ts he
m entions now and also when th ey are w ritten.
Such a su m m ary in tro d u c tio n to th e world version of C h au cer’s te x t has
to be elab o rated in d etailed verbal analysis. B u t perhaps it m ay already
m ake possible a glim pse o f w h at C haucer m eans in w hat he w rites. W ith o u t
such a glim pse, no a m o u n t o f analysis can m ake sense o f a picture th a t if
you do n o t get it is n o t there. So even though I have not yet m ade m y case,
I plead w ith m y reader to try an d see it “m y” way, a t least ju s t once. Take
care to read th e an teced en t o f “th e whiche” as “w orldly vanitees.” C haucer
writes:
For oure book seith, “A1 th a t is writen is w riten for oure doctrine,” and th a t
is myn entente. / W herfore I biseke yow mekely, for the mercy of God, th a t
ye preye for me th a t Crist have mercy on me and foryeve me my giltes; / and
nam ely of my translacions and enditynges of worldly vanitees, the whiche I
revoke in my retracciouns: / as is the book of Troilus; th e book also of Fame;
th e book of the xxv. Ladies; [etc.], (1083-86)
If C haucer h ad wished to em phasize th e m eaning th a t th e books th e m ­
selves should be annulled, he w ould have left o u t th e “as is” and ju s t listed
th e books, “th e book o f T roilus, etc.” If he had wished to em phasize his
intended m eaning, ra th e r th a n hide it a little b it, he could have said “as
in” ra th e r th a n “as is” ; b u t he m ain tain s b o th m eanings by saying “as is”
followed by a list o f books, w hich as books, however, m u st be in apposition
n o t to “vanitees” b u t to “translacio n s an d enditynges.”
As a C h ristian p o e t who has ju s t been preaching in th e voice of th e P a r­
son, C haucer has th e welfare o f his readers on his m ind and is speaking o f his
responsibility for th em in th e serious ethical m om ent o f reading w hen they
do n o t get his irony. T h a t th is is w h at C haucer is saying in th e “R e tra c tio n ”
cannot be proved or disproved by looking to his oeuvre to see if he has ac­
tu ally done w h at he said. T h is w ould require a search u nder every tro p e and
phrase for a bad in ten tio n — clearly im possible w ith out begging th e initial
question of in te n tio n in th e “R e tra c tio n .” Irony operates w ithin an ethical
context a t p a rtic u la r p o in ts, so th a t w hat one is to re tra c t and pull back
from is n o t determ ined by th e m ere possibility of irony. C haucerian irony is
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governed by C h au cer’s ethics. Given ethics tw isted enough, even th e “Re­
tra c tio n ” itself could be sarcastic irony, although its coherence would m ake
it a m o st b itte r oppo site of w h at is said. O ur shared in tu itio n o f C h au cer’s
rhetorical stra te g y does, however, su p p o rt a non-sarcastic reading of his fi­
nal supp licatio n . W e are fam iliar w ith th e good hum oured com passion of
C haucerian irony th a t encourages readers to exercise th e ir own m oral fac­
ulties in ju d g in g ch aracters an d in d eb atin g th e m oral principles th ro u g h
which a n a rra tiv e is co n stitu ted . T h a t th is in tu itio n is th e basis for a co­
heren t read in g of w h at C haucer says in th e “R etractio n ” m ay be discovered
in a d etailed explication o f th e “R etractio n ” itself.
T h e P arso n ends his ta le or “tre ty s” in th e dialectics of heavenly ac­
cess: in th is fallen w orld, we m ay purchase th e blissful reign “by poverte
espiritueel, a n d th e glorie by lowenesse, th e plentee of joye by hunger and
th u rs t, an d th e reste by travaille, an d th e ly f by deeth an d m ortificacion of
synne” (1080), a n d as C haucer m ig h t ad d , rig h t in te rp re ta tio n s by perennial
“retraccio u n s” o f w rong ones. A fter preaching holy d o ctrine in th e voice of
th e P arso n , th e voice of th e p o e t m erges in to th a t voice in a request for
than k sg iv in g to C h rist for any w isdom in th e “tre ty s,” for C h rist is the
source o f all w isdom :
Now preye I to hem alle th a t herkne this litel tretys or rede, th at if ther be
any thyng in it th at liketh hem, that therof they thanken oure Lord Jhesu
Crist, of whom procedeth al wit and al goodnesse. (1081)
T h e d eb ate over th e extension o f th e word “tre ty s” here hangs on
w hether th ere is a precise p o in t dividing th e P a rso n ’s voice from th e n a rra ­
to r ’s an d th e n from C h au cer’s. Even w ith o u t th e rubric “Heere ta k e th the
m akere o f th is book his leve,” usually added before th is line 1081, identifica­
tio n o f th e “I” in th is line as th e P arson soon m erges w ith th e identification
of subsequent “I ’s” as th e n a rra to r and then C haucer him self. A nd, con­
versely, even w ith th e ru b ric, th e “I” (1081) can n o t be dissociated from the
voice o f th e n a rra to r as th e P arso n because of th e possible reference of “th is
litel tre ty s ” to th e P a rso n ’s ow n tale. T h ere is no precise dividing po in t: the
voices blend in to each o th er. A nd th e w ord “tre ty s” th en extends n o t only
to th e tre a tise o f th e P arso n ju s t com pleted b u t also to th e com plete Can­
terbury Tales, w hile th is extension an ticip ates th e su b ject o f o th er works
of C haucer him self. T h is b lending o f voices and m erging and em erging of
id en tities m u st, how ever, be refracted in to world versions like our own: we
are n o t to im agine a th ree-headed m o n ster w ith th ree m o u th s one each for
th e P arso n , th e n a rra to r, an d C haucer, all speaking a t once. T h e id e n tity of
th e speak in g “I” m u st change som ew here from th e P arson to C haucer, the
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a u th o r o f th e book of T roilus, etc. T h is retrospective identification works
backw ard on th e te x t to “Now preye I to hem alle th a t herkne this litel trety s
or rede” ; so th e “tre ty s” becom es C h au cer’s in th e voice o f the P arson. T his
retrospectiv e identification w orks against tak in g any p a rt of th e “R etrac­
tio n ,” such as lines 1085—1090a (up to “soule” ), as C hau cer’s in te rru p tio n
in to w h at is otherw ise only th e P a rso n ’s voice. Nor is there any p o in t at
which it is clear C h au cer’s voice stops and th e P a rso n ’s resum es: g ra m ­
m atical parallel links th e sy n tax ; th e final request th a t th e “I” be “saved”
is ju s t w h at C haucer him self has been concerned ab o u t. T he final L atin
p ray er th e n hark s back to th e P a rso n ’s voice as a typical conclusion to a
serm on, b u t as a p ray er spoken for us all it does n o t exclude C h au cer’s voice
either, nor th e angels’ in th e m ystical choir of heavenly carnival. T he p o in t
o f th e “R e tra c tio n ” read all in C h au cer’s voice, including th e L atin close, is
sim ilar in m any w ays to th e th ru s t of of D ouglas W u rtele’s arg u m en t th a t
lines 1085-1090a are in fact an in terp o latio n . Indeed, the present paper
orig in ated in m y own m is-reading o f a page in th e offprint o f his article on
“T h e P enitence o f Geoffrey C haucer” : “T h e p o e t’s trouble is n o t th a t the
offending p o rtio n s o f his work m ay be m isin terp reted b u t th a t, read literally,
th ey will cause scandal or lead his readers in to te m p ta tio n . For th is offence
he publicly voices reg ret” (W urtele 336). A w rong literal in te rp reta tio n is a
m isin terp re ta tio n . A nd as I had learned in th e ethical herm eneutics of the
Gawain m an u scrip t, “Hony soyt qui mal pense.” Hence I th o u g h t the ar­
g u m en t m ig h t be th a t C haucer is saying he never had intended his work to
have a literal m eaning th a t w ould cause th e scandal o f a stu m b lin g block in
the w ay o f a fellow viator. T h is was certainly n o t w hat I had understood by
th e “R etra c tio n ,” w hich, lo, on tu rn in g to it, I found can indeed be reread
th is way I am now arguing for here. So th ro u g h m y m isprison o f W u rtele’s
arg u m en t, his work on th e “R e tra c tio n ” discovers, if I am rig h t, a deeper
m eaning. He and I agree on th e large question o f C h au cer’s rhetoric, th a t
“it w as a dangerous exp erim en t in th e a rt o f teach in g w ith d elight,” b u t not
th a t C haucer “finally had to exam ine his w ork n o t as a rtistic pro d u cts b u t
as m oral acts” (356) — as if he h ad n o t always considered th em m oral acts.
C haucer in th e present reading, accordingly, is to be taken th ro u g h o u t
th e “R etra c tio n ” as speaking in his own voice. A fter paying a com plim ent
to his readers by im plying they are th e so rt to be pleased in such a way th a t
th ey can th a n k C h rist for it, an d also im plying th a t th is is th e definition of
his proper reader, C haucer th en gives the credit for such things “th a t liketh
hem to C h rist “o f w hom procedeth al w it and al goodnesse.” Here we have
tak en C haucer only to be plying his courtly tra d e in theology: “D o n ’t th an k
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m e, th a n k C h rist. W h a t you like in w hat I w rite is due to th e source of
m y w it an d ‘al goodnesse’ in C h rist.” B u t he is also su b tly saying “D on’t
th a n k m e for m y w it, th a n k C h rist for your own w it.” T h e co n stitu tio n
o f w h at pleases readers in all goodness depends on the source of th eir own
rig h t ju d g e m e n t an d w it in C h rist. T h e read er’s as well as th e w rite r’s w it is
im plicated in th e te x t, an d good readers m ay th a n k C h rist for w h at “liketh
hem .”
In th e sam e co m plim entary way, these good readers are presum ed to
d etect error in w h at displeases th e m (for which they could also th a n k C hrist
— for th e w it to be displeased w ith error). B u t C haucer pleads his errors
are ig n o ran t n o t wilful, a result of his “unkonnynge,” lack of poetical ta le n t
a n d /o r d o ctrin al u n d erstan d in g .
A nd if th er be any thyng th a t displese hem, I preye hem also th a t they arrette
it to the defaute of m yn unkonnynge, and n at to my wyl, th a t wolde ful fayn
have seyd b e ttre if I hadde had konnynge. (1082)
So th e displeasure of C h au cer’s good readers can not be for evil doctrine
in ten d ed by C haucer — a t least n o t as he him self is able to see his in ten tio n s
a t th is p o in t o f final su p p licatio n to th e reader — w hich so far, accordingly,
n eith er is nor a n tic ip a te s a “R e tra c tio n .” “If th ere are m istaken poetics or
errors in th e d o ctrin e o f th is ‘tre ty s ,’ blam e m y ignorance,” C haucer says,
“I d id n ’t do it on pu rp o se.” A nd his voice shifts fu rth er from th e P a rso n ’s
to his own.
T h en C haucer tak es a few ju m p s in th e arg um ent: if th e reader is
supposed to so rt o u t good an d bad d octrine in reading “T h e P a rso n ’s T ale”
an d certainly to do th e sam e in th e o th er tales, th e reader is supposed to
do so n o t sim ply to excuse th e a u th o r on th e grounds o f ignorance b u t also
for th e re a d e r’s ow n good a n d “do ctrin e.” A nd this applies n ot only to
m istak en d o ctrin e th e a u th o r left th ro u g h ignorance b u t also to th e false
d o ctrin e left th ro u g h irony in th e p o e t’s a rt — th e im plied “R etrac tio n ” of
any vicious teaching in all his secular work: “For oure book seith, ‘Al th a t
is w riten is w riten for oure d o c trin e ,’ an d th a t is m yn en ten te” (1083).
Since th e P a rso n ’s non-ironic voice still lingers in these lines, “A l th a t is
w riten ” includes his ow n holy “tre ty s” an d its doctrine; b u t C h au cer’s voice
is also heard in these lines as th e w riter, so “Al th a t is w riten” includes
indeed all th a t is w ritte n , including C h au cer’s Canterbury Tales. It is here
w ith regard to th e w ay all th a t is w ritte n is for ou r doctrine th a t C haucer
declares his “e n te n te ” :2 th e c o n stitu tio n of any n a rrativ e m u st be a righteous
learning a c tiv ity of ju d g m e n t a n d co nstrual. T here is no book a sa in t cannot
read . G od does n o t skip over th e p a rts of history He does not like. Nor is
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fiction as p a rt of w h at we actu ally hear and tell excluded from th a t history
as it includes o u r fictions. G ood readers, likewise, m u st try to read ethically
“al th a t is w riten .” C haucer, m oreover, does n o t say th a t was his in te n t
and p erh ap s no longer is. He says “th a t is m yn en te n te” : “th a t is m y in te n t
in The Canterbury Tales, and, therefore, was when I w rote th em , ju s t as it
still is in The Canterbury Tales” — tales for w hich, accordingly, he could
hard ly be m ak in g a “R e tra c tio n .”
T h e N u n ’s P riest, w ith whose ironic cast C haucer him self is often iden­
tified, m akes a sim ilar connection betw een his own tex t and S ain t P a u l’s
te x t (il T im o th y 3:16):
B ut ye th a t holden this tale a folye,
As of a fox, or of a cok and hen,
T ak eth th e m oralité, goode men.
For seint P aul seith th a t al th a t w riten is,
To oure doctrine it is yw rite, ywis;
T ak eth th e fruyt, and lat th e chaf be stille.
Now, goode God, if th a t it be th y wille,
As seith my lord, so m ake us alle goode men,
A nd brynge us to his heighe blisse! Amen. (3438-46)
T h e N u n ’s P riest includes his own tale in “al th a t w riten is” ju s t as at
th e “R e tra c tio n ” C haucer includes his oeuvre, referring to the sam e te x t of
S aint P au l. It is n o t only a t th e end of his career, accordingly, w hen his
“R e tra c tio n ” is presum ed to have been w ritten , th a t C haucer w as fam iliar
w ith th e in te n tio n th a t n a rra tiv e be w ritten (an d read) for our doctrine
an d learning. A nd as a C h ristian , he would n o t rep u d iate th is in ten tio n of
th e N u n ’s P riest as his ow n. C haucer h ad th e sam e in ten tio n , therefore,
in w ritin g “T h e N u n ’s P rie s t’s T ale” and p ro b ab ly in all The Canterbury
Tales as he does in th e “R e tra c tio n ,” so The Canterbury Tales them selves
could n o t be w h at is re tra c ted in th e “R e tra c tio n .” T h e critical m om ent of
“re traccio u n ” is also considered, probably facetiously, by th e N u n ’s P riest
in th e herm eneutics offered to those who hold his ta le a “folye/ As o f a fox
or of a cok an d hen” : “T ak eth th e m oralité, goode m en. . . . T ak eth the
fru y t, and la t th e ch af be stille.”
T h e d eb ate w hether history is m ere shadow or actual prom ise prevents
th e n a rra tiv e account o f w h at happened from being m ere u n p ro b lem atic
chaff (P reu s 111). In a Ju d aeo -C h ristian context, w here histo ry is im p o r­
ta n t, one can n o t say “forget th e story of Jesus on th e Cross, and ju s t take
th e m o ra lity ” or “forget th e sto ry o f Moses and E xodus, and ju s t tak e the
m o rality ” : th ere is no m o rality w ith o u t w hat happened ju s t as w ith o u t
m orality w h at happened is n o t even a “w h a t.” E thics is intrinsic to our
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c o n stitu tio n of events. T aking th e N u n ’s P rie s t’s story as chaff is n ot such
an egregious dism issal of th e literal level, b u t sim ilar considerations apply.
Even th o u g h th e sto ry is ab o u t a talk in g fox and cock a n d hen, indeterm inacies of th e te x t still m u st be filled in w ith reference to a m inim al d ep artu re
from our a c tu a l world: th e values exem plified by th e case h istory do n o t exist
a p a rt from actu al history. O ne can kick th e ladder away as one clim bs into
P lato n ic heaven, b u t n o t to C h ristian heaven, w hich is, as the redem ption
of history, th e lad d er itself. T hose who do n o t take th e ta le of C hauntecleer
as itself “folye” m ay tak e th e fru it an d chaff as one, and b o th com ically
as p a rt o f th e “corn.” T h e N u n ’s priest as th e a u th o r of th e T ale is not
likely to be am ong those who consider it a “folye” ; otherw ise, he w ould not
have to ld it. A esthetically, he w ould n o t consider th e figurative language of
th e ta le reducible to a sim ple m oral or political m essage. A nd ethically, to
p o in t o u t th e a b su rd ity o f tak in g it as “folye,” he cites S a in t P a u l’s le tter to
T im o th y , w hich w ith specific reference to sacred scrip tu re could never have
been used to argue th a t T im o th y should ju s t tak e th e “m o ralité” and forget
th e scrip tu res, alth o u g h th e com edy of including b o th fru it and chaff, th e
w hole corn o f th e ta le o f cock an d hen, w ith scrip ture in “all th a t w ritten
is,” w ould n o t be lost on th e N u n ’s P riest. B u t it is a joyous com edy: our
do ctrin e in scrip tu re m u st be th e sam e d octrine in th e te x t of “all th a t
w ritte n is.”
N either w ould C haucer th e a u th o r be likely to consider his whole life’s
oeuvre a “folye,” chaff to be blow n away, as if it never happened. T h a t is
n o t th e kin d o f “retraccio u n ” eith er th e N u n ’s P riest or C haucer is likely to
have in m in d . W h a t is throw n o u t or re tra c ted by th e au th o r, in each case,
is n o t th e w hole work itself b u t w rong an d p ru rie n t readings o f it suggested
in th e rh eto ric o f irony. In “T h e N u n ’s P rie s t’s T ale,” for exam ple, one is to
w ith d raw from adm iring a talk in g cock as an epic hero, etc. Sim ilarly in the
reading o f all C h au cer’s oeuvre, we are to re tra c t, as he reveals his in te n t
in th e fam ous C a n te rb u ry “R e tra c tio n ,” from c o n stitu tio n o f n a rrativ e in
w orldly vanity. T h is m eans n o t th a t C haucer closes his m in d to any furth er
refinem ent o f in te n t, b u t th a t rig h t from th e s ta rt his m in d was b en t on his
w ork in th e rig h t direction.
C h a u c e r’s in te n t, accordingly, has been all along to teach good doctrine
in th e fallen m ix o f (i) ignorance an d knowledge an d (ii) good and bad ways
o f readin g a te x t. His good in te n t excuses him for th e ig n o ran t errors of
“unkonnynge,” while such errors enlighten ou r d o ctrine when the tru th is
revealed in C h rist, an d C haucer w ould have it so. T h e difficulty comes w ith
th e good an d b ad ways of reading a tex t: C haucer can n o t prevent wicked
VICTOR YELVERTON HAINES
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readings o f h is tex ts and m ay in the su b tlety o f his rhetorical “retracciouns”
h ave m ade it to o easy for readers to fall. In the light o f b oth the reader’s
and w riter’s ob ligation s, C haucer feels resp onsibility and g u ilt for trials
he m ay have put the reader through in his tran slations and narrations o f
“w orldly v a n itees.” He worries th a t he m ay be responsible for a reader’s
sin , not th a t he espoused false doctrine in his secular works, for he has
alw ays intended the “R etraction ” o f such doctrine in his h euristic irony.
In his a ttem p t to draw ou t the reader’s education ex isten tia lly by allow ing
for in depend en t assim ilation o f the right ju d gm en t required to co n stitu te a
n arrative, C haucer m ay have given som e readers too m uch freedom .
W ith reference to his com m en t on doctrine and his ow n in ten t th a t “al
th a t is w riten is w riten for oure d octrin e,” Chaucer refers to “m y g ilte s”
(1 0 8 4 ). T h is phrase m ust not b e understood here only in its m odern sense
o f “h avin g w ilfully com m itted crim e” but also in its ob solete sense o f be­
ing in volu ntarily at fau lt, the m ere “resp onsibility for an action or ev e n t”
( O E D ) . A s the author in the com m un ity th a t reads his work, C haucer is
im plicated .
Wherfore I biseke yow mekely, for the mercy of God, that ye preye for me
that Crist have mercy on me and foryeve me my giltes. (1084)
T h ese are still C haucer’s gu ilts, how ever — as he says “m y g ilte s.” B u t they
are in volu ntary gu ilts, the defaute o f his p articipation in the involuntary
sin o f wicked readers, w ho have con stitu ted narratives o f w orldly van ities
w ith o u t retracting from such van ities. T h e “g ilte s,” m oreover, are n ot the
“translacions and en d ityn ges” b u t the “giltes” o f those “translacions and
en d ity n g es” :
and namely of my translacions and enditynges of worldly vanitees, the whiche
I revoke in my retracciouns: / as is the book of Troilus; the book also of Fame;
the book of the xxv. Ladies. . . . (1085-86)
C haucer continues w ith th e list o f his secular books, a list o f “translacions
and en d ityn ges,” to w hich “b ook ” is in ap position . T he list is a list o f his
books th a t are tran slation s and stories about w orldly van ities aw opposed
to his other b ooks ab ou t scientific and religious m atters, the w hich have
no irony o f “retraccioun” in th em . B ooks m ay be “translacions and en d i­
ty n g es” b u t hardly “van itees” them selves. T h e antecedent o f “w hiche” in
Chaucer s senten ce is w orldly v a n itees” ; w hat is revoked are these van ities
and not the stories and tran slation s o f them . A ny am biguous reference to
the “translacions and en d ityn ges” as the antecedent o f “w hiche” should be
coherent w ith its prim ary reference to “van itees.” T h e m odern m ean ing o f
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“revoke” “to an n u l, rep eal” applies, however, m ore readily to books th a n
vanities; so th e p rim a ry reference o f “whiche” to “vanitees” is overlooked
in favour of w h at w ould have been only a recessive am biguity or C h a u ce r’s
escape clause in case o f fan atical censors — th a t he is tak in g it all back
w ith “w hiche” referring only to “translacions an d enditynges” B ut even in
its m odern sense “revoke” m ay apply to “w orldly vanitees” as they are con­
stitu te d w ith th e re a d e r’s approval an d any co m m itm ent to th em . O nly
insofar as th e n a rra tiv e s or “enditynges” of w orldly van ity seem like com ­
m itm e n t to th a t v an ity is th e telling, as th e an tecedent o f “w hiche,” itself
“revoked” in th e sense o f “annulled.” B u t C haucer has ju s t declared th a t
his d o c trin a l in te n t p revents an y such com m itm en t, hence if revoke m eans
an nul, th e “w hiche” can only refer to C h au cer’s own “enditynges” when
they are tak en in a w ay C haucer never intended.
T h e d o m in a n t, a n d now obsolete, m eaning o f “revoke” in th e fo u rteen th
cen tu ry was, how ever, “to recall to a rig h t way o f life an d belief, to draw
back from som e belief or p ractise” ( O ED ). W orldly van ity as com m itm ent
to van ity is annulled, a n d (m etonym ically) those so com m itted are “revoked
from ” th e ir co m m itm en t. T h is m etonym ic m eaning blends in to construc­
tio n o f th e idiom w ith o u t th e “from .” “People are revoked from so m ething”
becom es “so m eth in g revoked” (w ith “from ” u n d ersto o d ), as in The Faerie
Queene: she “stro v e th e ir s tu b b o rn rages to revoke” (ll.ii.28) (cited O E D )
an d o th e r instances cited in th e Middle English Dictionary as m eaning “(g)
to repress (vice); a v e rt (tro u b le); dism iss” . . . “E sta te o f w orthynesse in
gouernance is given to th e wise to revoken an d represse th e vice th a t wolde
encresen a n d aryse,” etc. In C h au cer’s sy n tax , th e article in “the w hiche”
em phasizes th is constru ctio n : “the w hich w orldly vanities I revoke (an d from
w hich [by m etonym y] I revoke m y readers) in m y retracciouns o f rhetorical
irony th ro u g h o u t m y secular w orks.” One pulls back a n d is called back
in th e rh eto ric from an ironically presented vanity or prurience, as “yonge,
fresshe folkes” in th e conclusion to Troilus and Criseyde are to re p air hom e
from w orldly van ity : “R epey reth hom fro w orldly van y te” (v.1837). T he
m e ta p h o r is to rep air, re tra c t, back off from . B u t th is does n ot m ean th a t
they were n o t supposed to read th e Troilus, th a t it itself should be “re­
tra c te d .” A nd C h a u c e r’s d irection o f th e book to “m o ral Gower” (v.1856)
is presum ed to have been m e a n t all th ro u g h th e sto ry o f Troilus and Criseyde
from th e beginning. Likewise, in all C h au cer’s “tran slacions an d enditynges
o f w orldly van itees,” th e read er w ith a good “e n te n te ” “rep ey reth ” hom e
from w orldly “vanitees,” th e w hich are revoked aw ay from th e reader and
VICTO R YELVERTON HAINES
137
from w hich th e reader is also revoked in reading th e books. T h e reader is
n o t supposed not to read th em .
T h is faded m eaning o f “revoke” would have been intended to go w ith
a m eaning of “retraccio u n s” th a t coincidentally has also faded. “R etraccioun” and its cognates “re tre a t,” “re tra c t,” “re tra c tio n ,” “re tra c ta tio n ,”
etc., all derive from correspondence w ith th e act o f dragging som ething
back over again, from A back to B. B u t correspondence m ay be focussed
a t various poin ts: absence a t A (our m odern em phasis), presence again at
B, th e act o f going over th e intervening terrain again, etc. T h u s L atin
retractare m ay be used in idiom s such as u n d ertak e arm s again, to re­
open old w ounds, to reconsider, or to draw back, refuse; and retrahere m ay
be used variously to d rag som ething back, to tak e yourself back, or, w ith
em phasis on w here you are going back to, to draw on again. As G eorge
Salm on says o f A u g u stin e ’s use o f the word (to which C haucer would have
been alluding): “ ‘R e tra c ta tio n s ’ does not m ean re tra c ta tio n s in our m odern
sense of th e w ord, b u t a re-handling of things previously tre a te d o f ’ ( O E D ,
q.v. l.a . 1888).3 O u r m o d ern m eaning o f th e w ord is “w ithdraw al of a s ta te ­
m en t w ith adm ission o f erro r.” B u t in th e case o f n a rra tiv e , as in C h au c er’s
books, it is n o t clear how th is m odern sense applies, how n a rra tiv e can be in
error or how th e error is to be w ithdraw n. C ertainly, one has no n arrativ e
w ith o u t ethics (H aines, “No E thics, No T e x t” 35): one does n o t even know
w h at is going on w ith o u t a ju d icio u s sense o f v irtu e involved in the action,
alth o u g h o n e ’s ju d g e m e n t m ay be in error.
B ut does re tra c tio n o f such error m ean retractio n o f th e n a rra tiv e it­
self or pretense th a t you never read it an d never will again? Unlikely. T h a t
would be like saying red em p tio n of history is its an n ih ilatio n . T he a b su rd ity
of re tra c tin g a n a rra tiv e an d th e personal im possibility for C haucer o f b a n ­
ning or an n u llin g his books already in circulation should force “retracciouns”
away from th e m o d ern m eaning of retractio n back to its older m eaning th a t
C haucer em phasizes by allu d in g to A ugustine’s p lu ral “R e tra c ta tio n e s” : “to
tre a t of ag ain .” To tak e th is as th e m eaning o f “retracciouns” still leaves
the am biguity: did C haucer him self change his m ind or has he m e a n t the
“retraccio u n s” all along? If he changed his m in d like A ugustine and wished
to tre a t again o f m a te ria l previously dealt w ith, th e n where does he do it?
He has n o t published a book like A ugustine’s “R e tra c ta tio n s.” N or does he
need to. In his rh eto ric all along are hints, which we recognize as C h au c er’s
irony, th a t th e n a rra tiv e m u st be gone over again in the re tra ctio n s o f any
approval or enjoym ent o f vice. Each m orally deficient co n stitu tio n o f n a r­
rativ e is to be pulled back from in “retracciouns” th a t C haucer m ean t all
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along. He does n o t use th e singular b u t the p lu ral “retra ccio u n s,” which
could hard ly be th a t single retractio n erroneously a ttrib u te d to C haucer
as an adm ission he was all w rong. C haucer’s in te n t all along has been to
educate th e read er in “retracciouns” from th e w orldly vanity of n a rra tiv e
viciously c o n stitu te d . T h e reader has been su b ject to ethical tests to tre a t
th e n a rra tiv e rig h t — or to re -tre a t. A nd failure in such ethical te sts is n o t
ju s t play in som e gam e o f fiction, b u t actual, unco m fortable g uilt. P erhaps
th a t is a n o th e r reason we w an t to b lam e it all on C haucer and m isread his
“R e tra c tio n .” R eaders, nevertheless, cannot be excluded from th e rhetoric
of C h a u c e r’s “retraccio u n s,” n o t if there is to be any coherence w ith the
sta te d in te n t: “al th a t is w riten is w riten for oure d o c trin e .”
T h ro u g h o u t his oeuvre, C haucer, in fact, frequently addresses his con­
cern for all th e com plexities o f “e n ten te,” including th e re a d e r’s m oral
“e n ten te” an d responsibility. B u t because he often addresses th a t concern
playfully, ethics can easily get lost in th e aesthetics. “U nkonnynge” m ay be
lim ited to its m ean in g as poetical skill, and C haucer is und ersto o d to be
saying no m ore th a n “enjoy m y p o e try and give it good review s.” T h u s,
in The House of Fame, “m ysdem e” (97) has been restricted to th e poor
ju d g m e n t of those n o t u p to scratch in p o etry ap p reciatio n , even though
th is does n o t account very well for how they “h y t m ysdem en in her th o g h t”
(92): review ers do n o t ju d g e or m isjudge som ething in th e ir ow n th o u g h t —
th ey sim p ly ju d g e or m isjudge it. Nor is th is a likely account o f C h au c er’s
p ray er th a t th e “m over o f . . . al” give jo y o f th e ir dream s to all who hear
C h au c er’s d ream to ld a rig h t a n d w ho do not “m ysdem e” it. T h e in te rp re ta ­
tio n an d ju d g m e n t o f d ream s like th e ju d g m e n t o f th e w orld is a m o ral act.
B u t to m ake his p o in t C haucer exaggerates, m aking fun o f his ow n (lack of)
charity. He asks G od to give jo y in th e ir own d ream s to those w ho hear his
d ream to ld w ith rig h t ju d g e m e n t, an d , he continues,
send hem al th a t m ay hem plese,
T h a t take hit wel and skorne h y t noght,
Ne h y t m ysdem en in her thoght
T horgh malicious entencion.
A nd whoso thorgh presum pcion,
O r h ate, or skorn, or thorgh envye,
Dispit, or ja p e, or vilanye,
M ysdeme hyt, pray I Jesus God
T h a t (drem e he barefot, drem e he shod),
T h a t every harm th a t any m an
H ath had, syth th e world began,
Befalle hym therof, or he sterve,
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And grau n te he m ote hit ful deserve,
Lo, w ith such a conclusion
As had of his avision
Cresus, th a t was kyng of Lyde,
T h a t high upon a gebet dyde!
T his prayer shal he have of me;
I am no bet in charyte!
Now herkeneth, as I have yow seyd,
W h at th a t I m ette, or I abreyd. (90-110)
C haucer p ray s for such ex trav ag an t m isfortune to befall those who will not
read his work w ith rig h t ju d g m e n t th a t his own p retended lack o f charity
is facetiously u n d ercu t. His facetious p ray er prev ents C haucer from being
th e m alevolent prosecutor, n o t him self subject to th e rule of charity; b u t
th e jo k e depends on th e serious ethics o f “m alicious entencion” — the envy,
p resu m p tio n , h a te , scorn, spite, je st, vulgarity, an d so fo rth , which prevent
rig h t ju d g m e n t or in te rp re ta tio n of w hat is read or heard. C haucer does
n o t seem to consider here in The House of Fame an y responsibility he m ay
have him self for th e results of a read er’s “m alicious entencion” ; th e em p h a­
sis, in stead , is on th e read er’s responsibility to m eet th e m oral su b tlety of
C h a u ce r’s rh eto ric in th e in te rp re ta tio n o f a dream told w ith C h au cer’s own
good in te n t ‘ a ry g h t.” B u t w ith o u t th is p resu m p tio n o f th e rea d er’s respon­
sibility, C h au cer’s own responsibility as he presen ts it in th e C an terb u ry
“R e tra c tio n ” can n o t be com prehended. As M ay in th e “M erch an t’s T ale”
says, despite its facetious contex t, “He th a t m ysconceyveth, he m ysdem eth”
(iv.2410): a literal s ta te o f affairs m ust be conceived properly or else it is
m isjudged: “H ony soyt qui mal pense.”
In th e prologue to Troilus and Criseyde, C haucer again calls on his
audience to listen w ith a “good entencioun” to m a tc h th e in te n t o f his own
ch arity an d com passion in determ ining w h at happened:
For so hope I my sowle best avaunce,
To prey for hem th a t Loves servauntz be,
A nd w rite hire wo, and lyve in charité,
A nd for to have of hem compassioun,
As though I were hire owne brother dere.
Now herkneth w ith a good entencioun,
For now wil I gon streght to my m atere. (1.47-53)
T hose who see th e characters as unw orthy o f com passion and so less th an
h u m an do n o t know w h at is going on. Sex-objects o f pornography in a
p ru rien t reading o f th e bedroom scenes; sinful villains beyond redem ption;
and o th er less th a n h u m an characters are not p a rt o f the n arra tiv e hearkened
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to w ith a “good en tencioun” — such as th a t in tention w ould be ju d g ed
in eith er th e m ediaeval or m odern era. C haucer does n ot here consider
th e possible failure o f th e read er’s in ten tio n or th e im plication of his own
responsibility in such a failure; perh ap s a t th is stage of his career he was
m ore o p tim istic a b o u t w h at he could expect from his readers and the good
do ctrin e in w hich his te x ts w ould p articip ate. B u t his concern th a t the
reader “h erk n eth w ith a good entencioun” does en tail th e possibility o f a
bad “enten cio u n .” T h is anxiety o f w riting reflects th e anxiety o f m ediaeval
reading: how could th e fifteenth-century com piler of th e trea tise Disce more,
in stru ctin g w om en religious in th e distin ctio n betw een amicitia and a m o r,
have th o u g h t th a t Troilus and Criseyde was a p p ro p riate reading? As Lee
P a tte rso n argues in a stu d y o f th is treatise, th e diagnosis o f m oral theology
m ay also be offered in th e g rad u al revelations of n a rra tiv e rom ance: “th e
conclusion m akes explicit an entente th a t was a t th e beginning only a la te n t
po ssibility ” (145). T h e a u th o r o f th e treatise teaches his readers to locate
th e Troilus in a co n tex t th a t allows its reading to be a t once safe and loving:
“he seeks n o t to d isarm th e te x t b u t to arm th e reader” (153). However
seductive its sw eet le tte r or heretical its alien sp irit, as Boccaccio argued in
th e tra d itio n o f A u g u stin ian herm eneutics, a te x t can be read w ith im p u n ity
by a reader endow ed w ith “a pure and stead fast m ind” (84).
In The Canterbury Tales them selves, C haucer often plays w ith th e im ­
plication s o f th e re a d e r’s “e n te n te .” In “T h e Tale of Sir T h o p as,” which
C haucer him self is supposed to tell as one o f th e ch aracters on th e pilgrim ­
age, th e n a rra to r “h im self” addresses his audience “L isteth, lordes, in good
e n te n t” (iv.712), a n d th e n proceeds to abuse th eir patience w ith doggerel
rom ance. In th is rh eto ric, a dupe is im plied w ho does n o t get th e tw ofold
lite ra ry a n d social satire: th e dupe m ay be th e n a rra to r “h im se lf’ or one
th e n a rra to r ju s t p reten d s to be. Such a dupe, pretended as th e voice of
th e a u th o r, c o u n terp o in ts th e re a d e r’s “en te n te ,” b o th aesthetic and ethical:
how can th e reader have good “en ten te” if th e w riter (as th e dupe) does
n o t? A nd once th is question is posed in th e rhetoric of “Sir T h o p as,” the
dialectic o f th e n ex t question becom es obvious: how can th e w riter have
good “e n te n te ” if th e reader does n o t? T h e reader an d w riter m ay have
good in te n ts in d ep en d en t o f each o th er b u t not in th e jo in t c o n stitu tio n of
a good story. A good sto ry m u st be th e p ro d u ct o f tw o good “en ten tes” ; if
eith er one fails to be good, th e sto ry fails. H arry B ailly cuts C haucer off
because he is w eary o f th e “lewednesse” an d his ears “aken” of th e “d ra sty ”
speech: he can n o t see th e im plied au th o r in th e rhetoric w ho is n ot a dupe:
m etaphysically, he can n o t see C haucer th e a u th o r an d intellectually, he
VICTOR YELVERTON HAINES
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does n ot consider th a t th e “n a rra to r” m ight be talk in g parody on purpose.
H arry him self th en becom es a dupe failing to have a good “e n te n te ” —
even tho u g h if he did consider th e possibility o f in tentional paro d y it is not
likely he w ould appreciate it anyw ay, n o t being a reader o f high rom ance.
C haucer th e n a rra to r (or recorder) th en goes on to tell his tale of M elibee
in prose asking for th e courtesy n o t to be in terru p ted : “herkneth w hat
th a t I shal seye / A nd la t m e tellen al m y tale, I preye” (v ii.965-66). He
has ju s t said th e sam e th in g ra th e r gauchely as n a rra to r o f “Sir T h o p a s” :
“Now holde youre m o u th , par charitee / B othe kny g ht and lady free, / A nd
h e rk n eth to m y spelle” (vn.891-93). S h u t up a n d listen: th e im p erativ e
to com m unicate as well as to construe requires ethics in b o th th e re a d e r’s
and w rite r’s “e n te n te .” A lth o u g h “T h e T ale o f M elibee” m ay n o t be told
w ith th e sam e w ords as th e o riginal an d be longer “som w hat m oore / O f
proverbes, its co nstrual is to be th e sam e as th e original in C h a u ce r’s own
sentence : Shul ye now her fynden difference” — nowhere being a good
place to look for such “differance.” C haucer continues his fairly long tale
of M elibee u n in te rru p te d and th e n rings th e changes on th e sam e te rm s we
find in his “R etractio n ” : “u nkonnynge,” “giltes,” “m ercy.” C h a u ce r’s w it
th ro u g h all these com plications o f in te n t depends on th e assum ption th a t
it is th e re a d e r’s as well as th e w rite r’s ethical obligation to have a “good
e n ten te.”
T h is serious com plexion o f n a rra tiv e casts a new light on C h a u c e r’s
request in th e M iller’s prologue n o t to “m aken ernest o f gam e” (1.3186).
One gam e th a t we are n o t to m ake “ern est” o f is C h au cer’s gam e th a t he
could n o t be to blam e because it was th e M iller w ho to ld th e story, n ot
C haucer. T h a t is only a joke, a gam e, th a t we are n o t to tak e earnestly, not
after C haucer has ju s t asked us “For G oddes love, d em eth n o t th a t I seye /
O f yvel e n ten te (1.3172—73): w h a t w ould be th e p o in t of asking us n o t to
th in k th a t he speaks w ith an evil “en ten te” if it were im possible for him to
do so? W e are to p u t him “o u t o f blam e” n o t because it is all a gam e, in
which there can be no m oral b lam e or praise, b u t because, in fact, he is n ot
to blam e: he could be guilty b u t, in fact, he is n o t (H aines, Fortunate Fall
223). He m u st “reherce / H ir tales alle, be they b e ttre or werse” (3173-74).
G od does n o t tu rn over th e leaf an d choose a n o th er tale; G od reads th em
all. A nd so m u st th e sain ts of h isto ry w hich we are called to be: all m u st
be told an d read
w ith a good “e n ten te” as C haucer desires. T h e gam e
we are n o t to tak e seriously is iro n y in th e telling and not th e telling itself,
w hich is alw ays finally serious a n d com ic, “for G oddes love” ; we m u st not
be earnest dolts. A lthough C haucer seem s to be saying all his fiction is ju s t
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a gam e th a t can be dism issed — a protective fall-back position if he gets in
to o m uch tro u b le for it w ith those who w ant to tu rn over th e leaf and do n ot
— he is a ctu ally saying th a t only th e ironic m eanings are to be dism issed
and n o t ta k e n earnestly. O ne w ould see a sim ilar tro p e in th e ch aritab le
reading o f th e W ife o f B a th ’s rhetoric when she says her in ten t is b u t for to
play: she expects her audience to be intelligent enough to get th e p aradox
th a t th a t in te n t itself m u st also be for play. Her real in te n t is to have her
concerns as a w om an tak en seriously by her audience. B u t for those in the
audience w ho are hostile an d could h a rm her, she has th e fall-back position
th a t she is ju s t kidding: “F or m yn e n ten te is n a t b u t for to pleye” ( ill.192).
C h a u c e r’s frequent elab o ratio n o f in te n t in th e eth ical m om ent of read­
ing as well as w ritin g m u st, accordingly, be com prehended in the concerns
o f his fam ous “R etractio n ” a t th e end of The Canterbury Tales. O ur tra ­
ditio n al read in g o f C h au cer’s “R etractio n ” prob ab ly first goes w rong a t the
word “giltes” : we have n o t been able to see th a t “giltes” refers to th e way
“al th a t is w riten ” for ou r d octrine m ay n o t all have been read for our doc­
trin e. H aving suppressed ou r c o n stitu tio n o f te x tu a l n a rra tiv e as an ethical
activity, we are b lind to C h au cer’s anxiety th a t th e su b tle tria ls and tests in
his rh eto ric m ay have been to o difficult for m any o f his readers. Every m oral
te st they fail, th ey sin. C haucer w ould be anxious a b o u t his responsibility
for such sinful readings o f his w orks “o f m an y a song and m an y a leccherous
lay ” (1087) a n d m ay be h aving second th o u g h ts ab o u t th e rhetoric o f irony.
Som etim es th e voices o f sinful characters “sow nen” as if th e whole n arrativ e
m ay be co n so n an t w ith sin. A nd th e ethical process o f rhetoric suggested by
th e idiom “in to sinne” indicates C haucer is concerned w ith th e effect on the
reader in th e c o n stitu tio n o f n arrativ e. Like m any a u th o rs, C haucer w ould
be surprised t h a t he is read by so m an y readers in th e w rong w ay and th a t
his cu ltu re is q u ite so co rru p t. For m odern au th o rs w ho m ay n ot ad m it
th e ethical m o m en t o f u n d erstan d in g , th is w rong w ay c an n o t be considered
im m oral, ju s t stu p id . B u t in an age when th e eth ical m om ent w as taken
for g ra n te d , an a u th o r w ould see th a t th e w rong w ay w as, indeed, w rong.
As th e a u th o r o f th e Gawain p o stscrip t w rote, p o in ted ly o m ittin g th e “Y”
o f th e G a rte r M o tto : “HONY SOYT QUI MAL PEN CE.” T h in k in g evilly in
vicious in te rp re ta tio n s is b lam ew orthy (H aines, “H ony so y t” 181).
E th ical criticism o f th e re a d e r’s response en tails th a t th e reader can sin.
Since fact a n d value can n o t be sep arated in a full and objective account of
any s ta te o f affairs, then th e sta te o f affairs in and m ed iated by C h au cer’s
te x t m u st be u n d ersto o d w ith rig h t ju d g m e n t o f w h at is going on. O ne does
n o t know w h at is going on in th e m ere physiology o f vaginal p en etratio n ,
VICTOR YELVERTON HAINES
143
for exam ple, unless one also know s w hether it is adultery, rape, passionate,
p ro stitu te d , b eau tifu l, an d so fo rth . B eauty and virtue as well as tru th
are p a rt o f an “o b jective” account (Zem ach; M acintyre 206). In filling
in th e in determ inacies o f a n arrativ e, moreover, th e rea d er’s a ctu a l w orld
is im plicated . T h e n a rra to r is presum ed to have tw o eyes n ot three, for
exam ple, even th o u g h th e te x t does not say so explicitly; th is presu m p tio n is
m ade on th e basis of th e read er’s n orm al, actu al w orld. Sim ilarly, if a reader
presum es in a rep o rted instance o f revenge th a t th is is quite proper, even
tho u g h there is no explicit approval in th e tex t, th en th a t says som ething
ab o u t th e re a d e r’s own w orld from which indeterm inacies o f th e n a rra tiv e
are filled in. A nd a reader m u st be responsible for th e ju d g m e n t by which
sta te s o f affairs in th e w orld are co n stitu ted , as th is ju d g m e n t is revealed in
th e tex tu a lly m ed iated c o n stitu tio n o f b o th fiction and history.
T h is account o f ineluctable ethics based on th e principle of m inim al
d ep a rtu re (H aines, “No E thics, No T ex t” ) m akes a stronger case for ethical
criticism th a n a principle o f psychological identification argued by W ayne
B ooth: “all stories will produce a practical p a tte rn in g o f desire, so long as I
sta y w ith th e m ” (204). O n th e contrary, th is “I” m ay be disassociated from
W ayne B ooth. F iction involves pretense in th e role o f a pretended listening
act to m a tc h th e role o f th e im plied a u th o r’s pretended speech act th a t it is
actu al history, an d so on. T h ro u g h this necessary pretense, disassociation
from vice and wicked desire is alw ays possible. A sa in t can read any book.
A nd th is is ju s t w h at B ooth show s in th e la tte r chapters o f The Company
We Keep as he p o rtra y s h im self learning to encounter Ja n e A usten, M ark
T w ain, D .H. Law rence, an d o th ers in th e sa n c tity of m atu re, ethical reading.
“S haring th e fixed n orm s o f th e im plied a u th o r” (145), who is to be ju d g e d
as th e re a d e r’s “friend” (169) an d who alw ays w an ts a n a rra tiv e in som e
way to be didactic (152-53), is n o t necessary for those who disagree w ith
those norm s, even tho u g h they m ay be following th e sto ry a n d im agining
those norm s. F ictio n al n a rra tiv e requires im ag in atio n and pretense, b u t not
identification.
Focus on th e re a d e r’s norm s as well as th e a u th o r’s shows it is im possible
n o t to be ethical as th e reader u n d erstan d s sta te s of affairs in th e world
and im p o rts th is inform ation in to th e co n stitu tio n o f a n a rra tiv e according
to th e principle o f m inim al d ep artu re. It is n o t only in th e subsequent
influence o f a n a rra tiv e , how a reader m ay behave after reading it, b u t in
its very c o n stitu tio n itself th a t th e ethical m om ent occurs. In th e act itself
of reading, th e reader is already im plicated in g uilt or stead fast in v irtue.
As T h o m as A quinas argues, th e object of th e intellect is b o th m o ral and
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physical tr u th , an d any subversion of th is aim is sinful (Summa Theologia
2.2.xv). T h u s w hen we suppress our p a rtic ip a tio n in sta te s o f affairs, the
object o f th e intellect assum es a false pretense th ro u g h which it is difficult
to recognize how any n a rra tiv e could be c o n stitu ted or m orally objectified.
If ou r read in g is u n d ersto o d to have no m oral responsibility, it becom es
difficult to see w h a t an a u th o r like C haucer could have to be sorry ab o u t,
except p e rh a p s for h av in g w ritten the te x ts them selves, now, therefore, to
be retra c ted , because vicious reading can only be th e result o f a vicious
au th o r. So C h au cer is variously explained as h aving been a t th e m ercy of
m onks w ho forced h im to retract; or he used a form ulaic “R etractio n ” th a t
is n o t m e a n t because it is form ulaic or applies only to the n a rra to r w ithin
The Canterbury Tales b u t n o t to C haucer him self; or th e “R etrac tio n ” is
ju s t a lite ra ry convention to list C haucer’s works; or life is a pilgrim age
th a t alw ays ends in penance: m ediaeval C haucer m ay have been sorry for
his w orks, b u t we do n o t have to be. C haucer, however, has n o t been
m aking a “R e tra c tio n ” for th e works in his list any m ore th a n to affirm
th e rh eto rical “retraccio u n s” th a t are already in th em in each w ork, the
“R e tra c tio n ” th ro u g h irony from vain and w orldly in te rp re ta tio n s consonant
w ith sin, “t h a t sow nen in to synne.” C haucer would n o t have been ignorant
o f these o th e r m eanings his “R etractio n ” would have as m erely p a rt o f a
generic convention (Sayce 243). His sincerity, in fact, m ay also involve a
com plicated send u p o f th e retractio n s th a t som e theologians au to m atically
published as in surance along w ith w hatever th ey w rote. B u t such satire
need n o t ex h a u st C h a u c e r’s in te n t, for th e sincerity, w ith o u t which it could
n o t be satire, im plies th e possibility of retractio n from such purely facetious
retra ctio n .
T h e sin cerity o f C h a u c e r’s in te n t im plies th a t his guilts of tra n sla tio n
an d “en d ity n g es” in his re a d e r’s behaviour are those for which C haucer is
in v o lu n tarily a t fau lt. Even where readers are su b ject to a fair m oral test
in th e rh eto ric an d fail, d am ag e is done to th e m o ral fabric o f society. A nd
w hen C h a u c e r’s te x t becom es an occasion o f sin, th e m oral te st for subse­
q u en t readers will becom e less and less fair as w eak readers are influenced
by th e increasingly g u ilty tra d itio n of th eir cu ltu re. C haucer th e n becom es
gu ilty o f h av in g set an u n fair test. W eak readers w ho are n o t free not
to resist te m p ta tio n in C h a u c e r’s rhetoric and for w hom it is n o t really a
te m p ta tio n are, nevertheless, subject to a justified reproach and guilty of
in v o lu n tary sin (so long as th e ethical sta n d a rd of th e society does n o t itself
change).
VICTOR YELVERTON HAINES
145
Aside from the theology of original sin, the possibility of involuntary sin
is dem onstrated by R obert Merrihew Adams in such sins as self-righteousness,
racism, and the unjust anger condemned by Jesus (M atthew 5:21-22). Weak
readers m ay be liable to reproach for such involuntary sins com m itted in
constituting the narrative — taking, for example, C haucer’s com m ent on
the Wife of B ath ’s early sex life “withouten oother compaignye in youthe”
(1.461) to refer unam biguously to extra lovers; it does not occur to such
thoughtless accusation or prurient sexism th at women may be chastely m ar­
ried several tim es w ithout having other company in youth as some m ight
expect, ju st as a woman may go out alone “w ithouten oother compaignye”
(Kennedy). Such involuntary, thoughtless reading is subject to reproach:
the potential was there for a thoughtful and ju st reading. Chaucer is not
subject to such reproach if his intent is good and doctrine sound, and for
doctrinal error due to “unkonnynge” he has already asked mercy. Here one
m ight distinguish involuntary sin from involuntary guilt. Sin requires one’s
own behaviour, either voluntary or involuntary; guilt may be incurred by
the sinful behaviour of others in one’s community. It is this guilt which
Chaucer suffers. Sin can never be attributed to God; guilt m ight, if our
creation in G od’s image or the incarnation brings God within the hum an
community. In this distinction between involuntary sin and involuntary
guilt, the sense of involuntary m ust be elaborated to exclude the idea of
voluntary guilt. No one wants guilt or sin except in a M anichaean system.
Involuntary is supposed to describe the action or prelim inary state of being,
not the sinfulness or guilt itself.
C haucer’s concern for guilty readers would be enough to explain his use
of the word “giltes” in its now more or less obsolete sense of mere “respon­
sibility for an action or event; the [involuntary] ‘fau lt’ of (some person)”
( O E D ), as when one is guilty of m anslaughter. Chaucer is guilty, through
the voluntary and involuntary sins of his readers, of an involuntary sin him ­
self by further polluting the moral ecology of his culture. And further, as
a m em ber of th a t culture, he in turn is involuntarily influenced by its pol­
lution and could conceivably come with so m any of his readers to approve
of the worldly vanity he had intended to revoke through irony. W ho can
presume to resist the oceanic pressure of culture? “No island is an island.”
It is not likely Chaucer would forget his own irony, but the spectacle of so
m any of his readers who did not get it could remind an enlightened poet
of how he him self m ust also be unenlightened in some ways he does not
know of, both individually and culturally. If one can see th a t other people
and cultures are sinful in ways they do not know, so probably is one’s own,
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which one cannot see, while ju st having one’s being embedded in it incurs
guilt in a sinful existence, however involuntary. Only in the symbolic desert
is a perspective offered outside society from the transcendental sublime to
what cannot be known within th a t culture. In the general guilt of hum an
society, Chaucer recognizes the transmission through himself of involuntary
guilt originating somewhere in the original sin and guilt of the Fall.
But the nature of collective guilt is more complex than involuntary fault.
In a century when theologians were asking such questions in their Sentences
as “whether God could do evil if he wished” (C ourtenay 245), one would
expect a great poet to in tu it the complexities of guilt as they touch on an
author and creator as tester. C haucer’s genius would come to ponder his
own role as author and creator in ethical tests set for readers m any of whom
fail and are thus guilty, involving Chaucer in collective guilt as a member
of th a t com m unity sick with guilt. If Chaucer were not a p art of his society
and culture and could act independently of it and all its failings, he could
test others w ith im punity (if he could find a language to do it in) — ju st
as God could test us w ithout any personal risk of suffering if we were not
m ade in G od’s image. T he final punishm ent of the compassionate author
who perm its original sin is th a t the innocent m ust suffer. And yet such an
author is not innocent of the knowledge th at the voluntary act of setting an
ethical test m ay im plicate the innocent in collective, involuntary sin, and
in its suffering and punishm ent. Chaucer alone, however, could never bear
such guilt. Only in some collective way as in the collective body of Christ,
who through sacrifice dies to the society of sin, can such collective guilt
be borne; there it can be borne freely in the Way of the Cross, w ithout
resentm ent th a t the punishm ent is too great for an individual’s particular
sin, since self-sacrifice is not paym ent for a personal debt. T he collective sin
Chaucer shares in a guilty society of readers is the sin which, after listing
his works w ith “retracciouns” in them , he asks th a t we pray Christ “for
his grete mercy foryeve me the synne” (1087). Chaucer knows th a t as a
tester he risks his readers’ voluntary and involuntary sins, especially in his
own fourteenth-century society. But he runs this risk voluntarily, like God
taking on the sins of the world for our sakes. No wonder Chaucer desires
help from God th a t for his great mercy he forgive him “the synne.”
Chaucer thus does not withdraw through his irony from the hum an
condition of sin: he engages it even more forcefully by presenting it for
the participation of the reader’s judgm ent. And for those readers who err,
guilty readings of narrative and history cannot be denied by trying to an­
nul the historical fact of such readings. Instead, in the “retraccioun” of
VICTOR YELVERTON HAINES
147
différance, one pulls back from the worldly constitution of vanity. It is with
this obscurity of retraccioun” and in his unknowing of the reader’s consti­
tution of the narrative th a t Chaucer portrays the occultation of vanity. He
follows the p o e t’s duty, as B arbara Johnson says, “to stand as a guardian
of an ignorance th at does not know itself, an ignorance th a t would other­
wise be lost” (30). W hat the reader does not know is im ported into the
constitution of narrative through the principle of minimal departure (Lewis
45) ju st as much as w hat the reader does know: unexamined assum ptions
and attitu d es and virtues and vice are all part of the reader’s actual world
with which indeterminacies of the narrative are filled in. In the constitution
of narrative, it is w hat we do not know we do not know th a t weaves the
tightest web of error. C ontinual anamnesis in the ethical constitution of a
textual narrative, surprises us with an ironic otherness from which we can
only retract in the m om ent of suddenly discovering we are ignorant of it
(Johnson 16).
But for those of us whose ethical ignorance in the act of constituting
a narrative is not surprise but merely suppressive “power” (Sedgwick 103),
it is hard to see w hat Chaucer is talking about in the “R etraction” if he is
not trying to annul works and suppress doctrine th a t he has now changed
his m ind about. Such a view has always, however, entailed some confusion.
W hy would Chaucer ask for forgiveness of his “giltes” nam ely for “transla­
t o n s and enditynges” ju st after saying “ ‘Al th at is writen is writen for
oure doctrine,’ and th at is myn entente” ? W herein is the guilt for writ­
ing translations and stories intended for our teaching and doctrine? The
confusion clears up with the insight th at the object of C haucer’s guilt is
not Chaucer’s writing, but his readers’ reading. T h at is his anxiety “th at
Christ for his grete mercy foryeve me the synne.” The collective sin of his
readers is C haucer’s burden. It is not the “translacions and enditynges”
themselves th a t are the object of retraction but the “worldly vanitees” in
them — which are present there only ironically. Good readers m ay continue
to read his work exercised in the various “retracciouns” of irony, difficult as
th a t m ay be except in his sain ts’ legends and homilies, where there is no
irony. Chaucer, in the virtue of his complete oeuvre, never intended to be
of this “worldly vanitee,” and in the Boethian supplication a t the end of
the “P arson’s Tale,” he expresses his intent th at good readers be with him.
Yet if doctrine is to be taught in freedom, it m ust be tested existentially,
and if, as is the case with moral doctrine, to fail the test is to sin, what
has the author of freedom done! Good teachers of the fallen race of Adam
m ust suffer for the guilt of those who fall. Chaucer’s anguish in the abyss of
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FLORILEGIUM 10, 1988-91
authorial instruction leaves nothing from which he m ay retract and nothing
left to retract.
Such sophisticated anguish of the author is a far cry from the simplem inded “R etraction” we have attributed to Chaucer in the tw entieth century
— as if the genius of the Chaucerian oeuvre did not understand the reader is
im plicated m orally in the constitution of textual narrative, as if the narrative
is out there, an “object” for which the author alone is m orally responsible.
For those who take this view of the text, there can only be the m eaning of
his “R etraction” we have traditionally understood —- with “giltes” referring
only to the writing about “worldly vanitees.” As the diplom atic court poet,
Chaucer can use this m eaning to protect himself against those who m ay want
his life for writing blasphemous stories. But as the sophisticated creator he
is, Chaucer knows th a t a saint can read any book, th a t God sees into the
depths of Hell, and th a t in the eyes of God he is himself guiltless where his
intention is concerned. It is for those of us who are less than saints th at
Chaucer is concerned: our moral failures in reading are his anguish. Has
he not tem pted us too sorely? For all our vicious, uncharitable readings,
perhaps we owe him a series of retractions — especially for our reading his
“retracciouns” as a single “R etraction.”
Dawson College, M ontreal
NO TES
1 T h e te x t u se d is The R iv ersid e C haucer, ed. L arry D. B enson, 3 rd e d . (B o sto n :
H o u g h to n M ifflin, 1987). F o r a n a n aly sis of th e theology o f T h o m a s G ascoigne’s re a d in g
o f th e s u p p lic a tio n to th e re a d e r as a la te re p e n ta n c e a n d for a th o ro u g h review of
sc h o larsh ip o n it as th e “R e tra c tio n ” in general, see D ouglas W u rtele, “T h e P e n ite n c e of
G eoffrey C h a u c e r,” V iator 11 (1980), 335—359.
2 I n te n tio n d e c la re d b y C h a u c e r for b o th him self a n d his in te n d e d re a d e r c a n n o t b e
re s tr ic te d to a n y tec h n ica l m ea n in g o f in te n t th a t w ould e x clude d esire a n d responsibility,
fo r th e re is n o su c h m ed iaev al m ea n in g . In his d isse rta tio n in pro g ress a t M cG ill U ni­
versity, R o b e rt M yles su rv ey s m ediaeval tra d itio n s of “in te n tio n a lity ” : n o n e excludes th e
p e rso n a l a g en c y o f d esire. E v en “first in te n tio n ,” as th e m in d ’s c o n ce p tio n s tre tc h e d in to
(in ten d ere) a n o b je c t, involves p a rtic ip a tio n o f th e will, for it is still a form of in te n tio n
lik e th e “se c o n d in te n tio n ,” w hich clearly involves h u m a n choice a s th e m in d ’s con cep ­
tio n s tr e tc h e d in to its ow n c o n ce p tio n o f th e o b je c t in te rm s of genus, species, difference,
id e n tity , e tc . A s m o d e m “n a tu r a lis t” p h ilosophers a rg u e, e th ic s a n d a e s th e tic s c a n n o t be
e x c lu d e d fro m th e id e n tity of o b je c ts (a n d te x ts ) as we conceive th e m stre tc h in g o u t o u r
m in d s in to th e ir c o n stitu tio n . H ence C h a u c e r’s d e m a n d th a t th e re a d e r h e a rk e n w ith a
g o o d in te n t, re p e a te d in T roilus and C riseyde, The H ouse of F am e, a n d elsew here (see
b elo w ), is a n e th ic a l d e m a n d of th e re a d e r’s response, failu re in w hich b rin g s g u ilt.
VICTOR YELVERTON HAINES
149
3 T h e M iddle E nglish D ictio n a ry gives tw o exam ples o f th e w ord used fo r physical
re tr a c tio n a n d only th e single one fro m C h a u c e r for m e n ta l re tra c tio n . T h e e d ito rs, b eg ­
ging th e q u e stio n ra ise d b y C h a u c e r’s te x t, tra n s la te it only as re p u d ia tio n o r re c a n ta tio n .
I w ould like to th a n k R o b e rt M yles, D ouglas W urtele, B everly K ennedy, a n d D av id
W illiam s for h e lp in o u r discussions o n th e A p ril p ilgrim age to a n d fro m P ly m o u th , NH.
W ORKS C IT E D
A d a m s, R o b e rt M errihew . “In v o lu n ta ry S ins.” The P hilosophical R eview 44 (1985):
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C o u rten a y , W illiam J. “Jo h n M ire co u rt a n d G regory o f R im ini: O n W h e th e r G o d C a n
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