Chaucer for Children: A Golden Key

The Friar's Tale.

This worthy Friar (Chaucer says), as he rode along with the rest of the company, kept looking askance at the Summoner, whom he evidently regarded as an enemy,[113] and though, as yet, for common civility’s sake, he had not said anything to him which could cause a regular quarrel, it was quite plain there was little love lost between them.

When his turn came to tell his story, he saw a chance of annoying the Summoner, which he didn’t mean to lose; and, disagreeable as the Summoner was, it is not very surprising.

But if it like to this companye,
I wil yow of a Sompnour telle a game;joke
PardÉ, ye may wel knowe by the name,
That of a Sompnour may no good be sayd;
I pray that noon of yow be evel apayd.disappointed
“But if agreeable to the company,
I’ll tell you of a Summoner such a game
Belike you may imagine from the name,
That of a Summoner can no good be said.
I pray that none of you be ill repaid!”

The Summoner, who was inoffensive enough just then, whatever he might have been at other times, was not very well pleased at having his trade spoken of in such terms, and felt that it was all a hit at himself; and mine host, to prevent further squabbling, breaks in with—“Now, Friar, it is not very courteous to speak at a companion in that style; a man of your calling ought to know better:—

In companye we wol have no debaat:
Telleth your tale, and let the Sompnour be.tell
Nay, quoth the Sompnour, let him saye to me
What so him list; whan it cometh to my lot
By God I schal him quyten every grot.requite, groat
I schal him telle which a gret honourgreat
Is to ben a fals flateryng lymytour!be, false
“In company we will have no debate,
Tell on your tale, and let the Summoner be.”
“Nay,” cried the Summoner, “let him say of me
What he may choose. When my turn comes, good lack!
All he has said I’ll pay him fairly back!
I’ll tell him what a pretty trade is his,
Beggar and flattering limitor that he is!”

Mine host cries out, “Peace, no more of this!” and begs the Friar to go on.

Once upon a time there was an archdeacon in my country who punished with great severity all kinds of misdoings.

He had a Summoner ready to his hand, who worked under this strict archdeacon with equal severity. A slyer fellow was there none in England; and most cunningly he watched the people in secret, so as to find out how best to catch them tripping.

I shall not spare this Summoner here, though he be mad as a hare with it all; for Summoners have no jurisdiction over us Friars, you know, and never will have, all the days of their lives. We are out of their power!

[“So are other refuse of the people[114] besides Friars!” interrupted the angry Summoner, when he heard that.

“Peace, with bad luck to you!” cries mine host, also getting angry; “and let the Friar tell his story. Now tell on, master, and let the Summoner gale!”[115]]

This false thief—this Summoner—used to find out, in all sorts of underhand ways, what people did, right or wrong, by spying in secret, and by keeping people to spy for him. And when he found out anybody doing wrong, he would threaten to summon them before the court, and they used to bribe him with money to let them off. If they were too poor to bribe him, he would make the archdeacon punish them; but if they had enough money to give him, he did not care how many bad things they did, and never told the archdeacon. This was very unjust and wicked, as it encouraged people to do wrong; and the Summoner grew quite rich in this evil way, for he kept all the money himself, and did not give it to the archdeacon. He was, you see, a thief as well as a spy;

For in this world nys dogge for the bowe[116]
That can an hurt dere from an hol y-knowe,whole
No dog on earth that’s trainËd to the bow
Can a hurt deer from an unhurt one know,

better than this cunning man knew what everybody was about,—

And for that was the fruyt of al his rent,because
Therfore theron he set all his entent.thereon, purpose
And so bifel, that oones on a daybefell, once
This Sompnour, ever wayting on his pray,
Rod forth to sompne a widew, an old ribibe,[117]
Feynyng a cause, for he wolde han a bribe.
And happede that he say bifore him rydesaw
A gay yeman under a forest syde.
A bowe he bar, and arwes bright and kene;
He had upon a courtepy of grene;short cloak
An hat upon his heed with frenges blake.head
Sir, quoth this Sompnour, heyl and wel overtake.overtaken
Welcome, quod he, and every good felawe.fellow
Whider ridestow under this grene schawe?ridest thou, wood
(Sayde this yiman) wiltow fer to-day?
This Sompnour him[118] answerd and sayde, Nay:
Here faste by, quod he, is myn ententpurpose
To ryden, for to reysen up a rentraise
That longith to my lordes duetÉ.duty
And, since that was the source of all his pelf,
To winning gain he did devote himself.
And so it chanc’d that, once upon a day,
This Summoner, ever waiting for his prey,
Rode forth to summon a widow, a poor soul,
And feign’d a cause, that he might get a dole.
It happen’d that he saw before him ride
A yeoman gay, along the forest side.
A bow he bore, and arrows, bright and keen;
He had on a short upper cloak of green;
A black-fringed hat upon his head was set.
The Summoner cried out, “Hail, sir, and well met!”
“Welcome,” quoth he, “and every one as good!
And whither ridest thou in this green wood?
(The yeoman said) and is it far you go?”
The Summoner made answer, and said, “No:
Close handy here my errand lies,” quoth he,
“I ride to raise a rent that’s owing me,
Belonging to my master’s property.”

“Art thou a bailiff, then?” asks the yeoman. The Summoner was ashamed to say what he really was, so he said, “Yes.”

“Good,” said the stranger. “Thou art a bailiff and I am another. Let us be friends. I am unknown in this country; but if you will come and see me in my country, I have plenty of gold and silver in my chest, and I will share it all with you.”

“Thank you,” said the greedy Summoner; and they shook hands, and promised to be staunch friends and sworn brothers till they died! And thus they rode on together.

The Summoner, who was always inquisitive and asking questions, was very anxious to know where he could find this amiable new friend, who was so free with his money.

Brother, quoth he, wher now is your dwellyng,
Another day if that I schulde yow seeche?seek
“Brother,” quoth he, “your dwelling now, where is’t,
If I some future day the place could reach?”

Notice the cunning yeoman’s answer:—

This yiman him answered in softe speche:
Brother, quod he, fer in the north[119] contre,
Wheras I hope somtyme I schal the se;where
Er we depart I schal the so wel wisse,separate, teach
That of myn hous ne schaltow never misse.shalt thou, miss
The yeoman answered him in softest speech:
“Brother,” quoth he, “far in the north countree,
Whereat I hope sometime I shall thee see.
Before we part I shall direct thee so,
Thou canst not fail my dwelling-place to know.”

You will see later why he was so anxious to bring the Summoner to his own dwelling.

Now, brother, quod this Sompnour, I yow prayyou
Teche me, whil that we ryden by the way,ride
Syn that ye ben a baily as am I,since, be
Som subtilte, as tel me faithfullysubtilty
In myn office how I may moste[120] wynne.my
And spare not for consciens or for synne,refrain
But, as my brother, tel me how do ye?
“Now, brother,” said the Summoner, “I pray,
Teach me while we are riding on our way,
Since you a bailiff are, as well as I,
Some subtle craft, and tell me faithfully
How in my office I most gold may win,
And hide not aught for conscience or for sin,
But as my brother, tell me how do ye?”

The strange yeoman is delighted at these questions, and you will see that in his answer he pretends to describe himself, but he is really describing all the Summoner does!

Now, by my trouthe, brothir myn, sayde he,
As I schal telle the a faithful tale.
My wages ben ful streyt and eek ful smale;narrow, small
My lord to me is hard and daungerous,severe
And myn office is ful laborous,laborious
And therfor by extorciouns[121] I lyve.
Forsoth I take al that men wil me yive,give
Algate by sleighte or by violence,always, cunning
Fro yer to yer I wynne my despence,
I can no better telle faithfully.
Now, certes, quod this Sompnour, so fare I.
I spare not to take, God it woot,knows
But-if it be to hevy or to hoot.[122]unless
What I may gete in counseil prively,get
No more consciens of that have I;conscience
Nere myn extorcions I mighte not lyven,were it not for
Ne of such japes I wil not be schriven.games, shriven
Stomak ne conscience know I noon.
I schrew thes schrifte-fadres, everichoon.curse
Wel be we met, by God and by seint Jame!
But, leve brother, telle me thy name?
Quod this Sompnour. Right[123] in this menewhile
This yeman gan a litel for to smyle.began
Brothir, quod he, woltow that I the telle?wilt thou
I am a feend, my dwellyng is in helle,
And her I ryde about my purchasyng,here
To wite wher men wol yive me eny thing.know
My purchas is theffect of all my rent.the effect
Loke how thou ridest for the same entent
To wynne good, thou rekkist never how,
Right so fare I, for ryde I wolde now
Unto the worldes ende for a praye.prey
A, quod the Sompnour, benedicite, what say ye?[124]ah
“Now, by my troth, my brother dear,” quoth he,
“I will be frank with you, and tell you all:
The wages that I get are very small,
My master’s harsh to me, and stingy too,
And hard is all the work I have to do;
And therefore by extortion do I live.
Forsooth, I take what any one will give;
Either by cunning or by violence
From year to year I snatch my year’s expense.
No better can I tell you honestly.”
“Now, truly,” cried the Summoner, “so do I!
I never spare to take a thing, God wot,
Unless it be too heavy or too hot.
What I can grasp by counsel privily,
No scruples in that matter trouble me.
Without extortion I could ne’er subsist,
So in my pranks I ever will persist;
Stomach nor conscience truly I have none.
I hate all these shrift-fathers, every one!
Well met are we, our ways are just the same.
But, my dear fellow, tell me now your name?”
The Summoner entreated him. Meanwhile
That yeoman broke into a little smile.
“Brother,” he answered, “wilt thou have me tell?
—I am a fiend, my dwelling is in hell,
And here I ride about my purchasing
To know what men will give me anything.
Such gains make up the whole of all my rent.
Look how thou journeyest for the same intent
To reap thy gains, thou carest never how!
Just so I do—for I will journey now
Unto the wide world’s end to get my prey.”
“Mercy!” the Summoner cried, “what is’t ye say?”

He is rather aghast at this awful confession, bad as he admits himself to be. He had sincerely thought it was a real yeoman; and when he says to him, with a strange and evil smile, “Shall I tell you?—I am a fiend, my dwelling is in hell,” the horrible candour strikes him dumb for a minute. He rather wishes he wasn’t his sworn brother. But he very soon gets over this, thinking of the gold and silver, and begins to talk quite friendly.

I wende ye were a yemen trewely:truly
Ye have a mannes schap as wel as I.shape
“I thought you were a yeoman, verily:
Ye have a human shape as well as I.”

“Have you then a distinct form in hell like what I see?”

“No, certainly,” says the fiend, “there we have none, but we take a form when we will.”

Or ellis make yow seme that we ben schapeIt seem to you
Somtyme like a man, or like an ape;
Or lik an aungel can I ryde or go;
It is no wonder thing though it be so.
“Or else we make you think we have a shape,
Sometimes like to a man, or like an ape;
Or like an angel I can ride or go;
It is not wondrous that it should be so.”

“Why, a common conjurer can deceive you any day, and I have tenfold more cunning than a conjurer!”

“Why,” said the Summoner, quite interested, “do you have several shapes, and not only one?”

“We borrow whatever shape is best to catch our prey,” said the evil one.

“What makes you take all that trouble?” says the Summoner.

Ful many a cause, lieve sir Sompnour,dear
Sayde this feend. But al thing hath a tyme;
The day is schort, and it is passed prime,[125]
And yit ne wan I nothing in this day;won
I wol entent to winning, if I may,attend
And not entende our thinges to declare.
“Full many a cause, my good sir Summoner,”
Replied the fiend. “But all things have a time;
The day is short, and it is now past prime,
Yet have I not won anything to-day;
I’ll give my mind to winning, if I may,
And not our privy doings to declare.”

For you see the fiend was more intent upon his business than even the Summoner. However, he goes on to say, that sometimes he is obliged to work under the great God, without whose sufferance he could never have any power at all.

For somtyme we ben Goddis instrumentesGod’s
And menes to don his comaundementes,means
When that Him list, upon His creatures,He chooses
In divers acts and in divers figures.various
“Sometimes God uses us as instruments
And means, to work out His all-wise intents:
When on us this divine command He lays,
We serve in divers forms and divers ways.”

“But you needn’t be in such a hurry,” he says to the Summoner. “You’ll know more than you like perhaps before long.”

But oon thing warne I the, I wol not jape,one, jest
Thou wilt algates wite how we ben schape.always know
Thou schalt herafterward, my brother deere,
Com wher the nedith not of me to leere,[126]come, learn
For thou schalt by thin oughn experienceown
Conne,[127] in a chayer, reden of this sentencebe able, to counsel, meaning
Bet than Virgile[128] when he was on lyve,better, alive
Or Daunt also. Now let us ryde blyve,quickly
For I wol holde companye with the
Til it be so that thou forsake me.
“But of one thing I warn thee, not in play,
That thou shalt know what we are like, some day.
Thou shalt hereafter come, my brother dear,
Whither thou wilt not need of me to hear;
For thou shalt learned be—nay, specially wise
By self-experience—in these mysteries:
Wiser than Virgil ere from earth he past,
Or Dante either. Let us now ride fast,
For I will keep companionship with thee
Till thou desirest to depart from me.”

A pleasant prospect! However, the Summoner was quite content, so long as the silver and gold were shared with him. He declares he will never forsake his sworn brother, though he be a fiend, and promises to share all his own goods with the evil one! adding—

Tak thou thi part, and that men wil the yyven,thee, give
And I schal myn, thus may we bothe lyven;mine, live
And if that eny of us have more than other,either
Let him be trewe, and part it with his brother.
I graunte, quod the devel, by my fay.
And with that word thay riden forth hir way.ride
“Take thou thy part, whatever men will give,
And I will do the same, so both shall live;
And if the one get more than doth the other,
Let him be true and share it with his brother.”
“I grant it,” said the devil, “by my fay.”
With that, they rode together on their way.

As they proceeded they saw right at the town’s end a cart laden with hay. The road was heavy with mud, so that the cart stuck. The carter smote his horses, and cried like mad, “Hait! go on![129] The fiend take you—what a labour I have with you. The fiend have it all, cart, horse, and hay!”

The Summoner, hearing this, remembered he was to have half of all the evil one’s goods, and whispered to him, “Don’t you hear what the carter says? Take it all quick—he has given it you—hay, and cart, and the three horses!”

“Nay,” said the evil one, “he does not mean what he says. He is only in a passion. Ask him yourself, or else wait and see what comes next.”

The carter whacked his horses, and they began to stoop and pull the cart out, and then he said, “Hait! bless you—good Dobbins—well pulled, my own grey boy! Now is my cart out of the mud.”

“There, brother, what did I tell you?” says the fiend. “Now, you see the churl said one thing, but he thought another. Let us go on; I shall get nothing here.”

With that they went a little way outside the town. The Summoner began to whisper to his companion, “Here there lives an old beldame who would almost as soon lose her head as give up a penny of her goods. But I mean to have twelve pence[130] out of her, though she should go mad; or else I’ll haul her up before the court. And yet, all the same, I know no harm of her. But if you want a lesson how to extort your gains in your country, you may take example of me!”

The Summoner goes and raps at the old widow’s gate. “Come out, you old crone. I dare say you are in mischief there!” he cried.

“Who knocks?” said the old woman. “God save you, sir. What is your will?”

“I’ve a bill of summons against you. On pain of cursing, see that you are to-morrow before the archdeacon, to answer to the court.”

“God help me,” says the poor old woman, in great distress. “I have been ill a long time, and cannot walk so far, and to ride[131] would kill me, my side pricks so. May I not ask for a libel,[132] and answer there by my procurator whatever there is against me?”

“Yes,” says the Summoner, “pay me—let’s see—twelve pence, and I will let you off. I shall not get much profit out of that. My master gets it, and not I. Make haste and give me twelve pence—I can’t wait.”

“Twelve pence!” said the poor widow. “Now, heaven help me out of this. I have not so much as twelve pence in the whole wide world. You know that I am old and poor. Rather give me alms.”

“Nay, then,” cries the hard-hearted Summoner, “I will not let you off, even if you die of it.”

“Alas!” says she, “I am not guilty.”

“Pay me!” cried he, “or I will carry off your new pan besides, which you owe me, for when you were summoned to the court before, I paid for your punishment!”

“You lie,” cried the poor old woman. “I was never summoned before to that court in all my life; and I have done no wrong. May the evil one catch you for your wickedness, and carry you away, and my pan too!”And when the fiend heard her curse the Summoner on her knees, he came forward and said, “Now, good mother, are you in earnest when you say that?”

“May the devil fetch him, pan and all, before he dies, if he doesn’t repent!”

“Repent!” cries the wicked Summoner, “I don’t mean to repent anything I do, I can tell you. I wish I had everything you possess besides—even every rag you have on!”

“Now, brother,” says the evil one, “don’t be angry; for you and this pan are mine by right. This very night you shall go with me to hell, and you will soon know more about our mysteries than a master of divinity!”

And with that word the foule fend him hente;caught
Body and soule, he with the devyl wente,
Wher as the Sompnours han her heritage;their
And God, that maked after His ymagemade
Mankynde, save and gyde us alle and some,
And leene this Sompnour good man to bycome.grant
With that the foul fiend took him for his own,
Body and soul he’s with the devil gone,
Whither these Summoners have their heritage
And God, who did create in His image
Mankind, protect and guide us all our days,
And lead this Summoner here to mend his ways.

Lordings, I could have told you, if I had time, all the pains and punishments which came to this wicked Summoner in hell. But let us all pray to be kept from the tempter’s power. The lion lies in wait always to slay the innocent, if he can. Dispose your hearts ever to withstand the evil fiend who longs to make you his slaves! He will not tempt you above what you can bear, for Christ will be your champion and your knight.[133] And pray that this Summoner with us, may repent of his misdeeds before the devil carries him away.

Notes by the Way.

Legends of the kind told by the Friar were very popular in the mediÆval times, believed in by some as they were laughed at by others. Mr. Wright conjectures that this tale was translated from some old fabliau. The Friar evidently counted on the unpopularity of this class of men, the Summoners, when he held his fellow-traveller up to general ignominy in this way. It seems a breach of civility and fair-play to modern minds, but the Summoners were in reality hated universally for their extortion or for their secret power among the people. As you have seen, the host begins by calling for justice, but the popular feeling was but too clearly on the Friar’s side from the first, and mine host shares it. (Vide notes, pp. 31, 57.)

This Tale would appear by no means to discourage swearing; but mark the distinction drawn between a hearty, deliberate malediction, and the rapid unmeaning oath which sowed the common talk. The lesson was probably the more forcible through the absence of any hypercritical censure of ‘strong language’—censure which would have been vain indeed, in an age when common oaths were thought as much less of, as positive cursing was more of, than in the present day.

The rough moral deduced was admirably suited to the coarse and ignorant minds of the lower orders.

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