Madame Eglentyne

CHAUCER’S PRIORESS IN REAL LIFE

     Ther was also a Nonne, a Prioresse,
     That of her smyling was ful simple and coy;
     Hir grettest ooth was ne but by seynt Loy;
     And she was cleped madame Eglentyne. 
     Ful wel she song the service divyne,
     Entuned in hir nose ful semely;
     And Frensh she spak ful faire and fetisly,
     After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe,
     For Frensh of Paris was to hir unknowe. 
     At mete wel y-taught was she with-alle;
     She leet no morsel from hir lippes falle,
     Ne wette hir fingres in hir sauce depe. 
     Wel coude she carie a morsel and wel kepe,
     That no drope ne fille up-on hir brest. 
     In curteisye was set ful muche hir lest. 
     Hir over lippe wyped she so clene,
     That in hir coppe was no ferthing sene
     Of grece, whan she dronken haddie hir draughte
     Ful semely after hir mete she raughte,
     And sikerly she was of greet disport,
     And ful plesaunt and amiable of port,
     And peyned hir to countrefete chere
     Of court, and been estatlich of manere,
     And to be holden digne of reverence. 
     But, for to speken of hir conscience,
     She was so charitable and so pitous,
     She wolde wepe, if that she sawe a mous
     Caught in a trap, if it were deed or bledde. 
     Of smale houndes had she, that she fedde
     With rosted flesh, or milk and wastel-breed. 
     But sore weep she if oon of hem were deed,
     Or if men smoot it with a yerde smerte: 
     And al was conscience and tendre herte
     Ful semely hir wimpel pinched was: 
     Hir nose tretys; her eyen greye as glas;
     Hir mouth ful smal, and ther-to softe and reed;
     But sikerly she hadde a fair foreheed;
     It was almost a spanne brood, I trowe;
     For, hardily, she was nat undergrowe. 
     Ful fetis was hir cloke, as I was war. 
     Of smal coral aboute hir arm she bar
     A peire of bedes, gauded al with grene;
     And ther-on heng a broche of gold ful shene,
     On which ther was first write a crowned A,
     And after, Amor vincit omnia!

          —­GEOFFREY CHAUCER

Prologue to the Canterbury Tales

Every one knows Chaucer’s description of the Prioress, Madame Eglentyne, who rode with that very motley and talkative company on the way to Canterbury.  There is no portrait in his gallery which has given rise to more diverse comment among critics.  One interprets it as a cutting attack on the worldliness of the Church; another thinks that Chaucer meant to draw a charming and sympathetic picture of womanly gentleness; one says that it is a caricature, another an ideal; and an American professor even finds in it a psychological study of thwarted maternal instinct,