Ovid’s Medea in the Medieval and Early Modern Period (12th December)

IMG_3002
Medea crashes Jason’s wedding party. Source: Histoire ancienne jusqu’à César, Royal MS 20 D I, f. 37v.

To jump right into discussing the various ways Medea was fashioned and re-fashioned throughout the Middle Ages is tempting but ultimately a shallow and unfulfilling approach. To read her medieval versions without understanding the social, religious and cultural background that generated them is not to read her at all.[1]

Over the course of a long history that stretches back to Greek mythology, there have been many versions of Medea, all overlapping with and building upon each other. Predominantly, it is as the archetypal murderous mother that she is most often remembered, but this is not the only label she has borne. Treacherous daughter, murderous sister, enchantress, potioneer, and wronged wife are also titles she has counted among her own.

The daughter of King Aeëtes of Colchis and a granddaughter of the sun-god, Helios, Medea fell in love with the hero, Jason, helping him to outwit her father and steal the Golden Fleece. It is Jason’s betrayal of her love for him that prompts the extreme acts of infanticidal revenge that made her name synonymous with ‘wickedness itself’.[2] However, this betrayal also paves the way for the depiction of a more sensitive, emotional Medea that writers such as Geoffrey Chaucer capitalised upon to recast her in a more fitting, less threatening, manner.

Whatever else she may be, Medea is indisputably a cause of fear. In the medieval period, she became particularly menacing to an English audience in period that was undergoing seismic social and cultural shift. Her actions capture the attention of writers through the ages, almost reluctantly so. The Elizabethan poet and playwright, Thomas Achelley, dismissed the transgressive behaviours of Medea and her ilke as the actions of “ethnicke examples”, emphasising the distance between her and the women of Protestant England – the implication being women should be grateful for this distance.[3] And yet, for all Achelley dismisses Medea as unimportant, he and others are incapable of leaving her alone. Her narrative is not one that easily allows the author / reader to move on, being as reluctant to let go as Medea herself was over Jason. Beyond the apparent end of her own tale, Medea crosses over into roles in the tales of other characters. In the Metamorphoses, for instance, she reappears at the beginning of the Theseus narrative as the wicked stepmother, trying to arrange Theseus’ poisoning to guarantee the furtherance of her own son’s prospects.

She is the subject of plays by Euripides and Seneca (which survive) and one by Ovid (which does not), but as access to surviving Greek tragedies was limited through the medieval and early modern period, it is Ovid’s version of her, found in Book VII of the Metamorphoses and Heroides XII, that is most important to her medieval and early modern presence. This month, we will be looking at two translations of the Medea narrative in Ovid’s Metamorphoses; Chaucer’s retelling within The Legend of Good Women; and the very end of William Caxton’s The History of Jason.

This months texts:

  1. Ovid, Metamorphoses, trans. A. D. Melville (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986, reis. 2008), ll. 1-402.
  2. Ovid, Ovid’s Metamorphoses: The Arthur Golding Translation, 1567, J. F. Nims, trans. A. Golding (Paul Dry Books, Inc, new edn. 2000), ll. 1-513.
  3. Geoffrey Chaucer, ‘The Legend of Hypsipyle and Medea’, The Legend of Good Womenin The Riverside Chaucer, 3rd edn, ed. Larry D. Benson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 1580-1679.
  4. William Caxton, History of Jason, John Munro (London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner, 1908), ll. 19-40.

The Latin poet Publius Ovidius Naso – Ovid – was born in 43 BC and was the only one of the great Latin poets to see the beginning of the Christian era. Ovid is one of the most influential poets in Western literature, and the fifteen books of the Metamorphoses, counting approximately 250 stories and spanning from the first chaotic moments of creation to the rise of Rome, is his most ambitious work. Ovid was banished from Rome in 8 AD for immorality before the Metamorphoses was completed, and issues of speech and silencing run through the tales like a thread, always reminding the reader of their storyteller’s unjust exile to Tomis. Almost twenty percent of the tales Ovid tells recount silencing of a kind and speech loss has long been identified by scholars as a key aspect of the transformations.[4]

Arthur Golding was born in Essex in 1536, and although he dropped out of university during the reign of Queen Mary, he read the classics thoroughly as a young man and their translations from the Latin and French became his life’s work. His 1567 translation of the Metamorphoseswas the first to translate directly from Latin into English, and it rapidly became the standard Ovid in English, remembered now as “Shakespeare’s Ovid”. Its popularity inspired a wave of Elizabethan translations of Ovid’s works, and its significance to the English literary canon was seemingly confirmed, when in 1915, Ezra Pound deemed it, “The most beautiful book in the language”. Golding also produced numerous volumes of John Calvin’s sermons and treatises, a translation of Caesar’s Commentaries, an account of a 1573 murder that took place in London, and an account of the London earthquake of 1580.

Of all the women in The Legend of Good Women, it is Medea who gets the shortest shrift. Her tale is not even given its own space, instead compressed into one alongside Hypsipyle (her predecessor in Jason’s affections). The entire episode spans a mere 310 lines and at barely one hundred lines, Medea’s legend is reduced to a footnote in what is essentially ‘The Legend of Jason’. The passionate, emotional Medea who Ovid first depicts in the Metamorphoses debating so hard with herself as she is torn between her familial duty and her overpowering love for Jason is absent in Chaucer’s retelling.

The Legend of Good Women is thought to have been written between 1380-1387 at the behest of Queen Anne of Bohemia, the consort of Richard II.  It follows Troilus & Criseyde in the chronology of Chaucer’s works (purportedly as an atonement for the wrongs Chaucer-the-poet did to women in general in his portrayal of Criseyde) and is usually regarded as a critical paradox: despite having had great time and effort expended upon it, it was apparently abandoned and is viewed by some as a failure. The Legend survives in twelve manuscripts, and there are two different versions of the prologue.

William Caxton is thought to have been born around 1422. After a period living and working as a merchant in Bruges and observing the development of new printing technology in Cologne, he partnered with a Fleming called Colard Mansion to open his own printing press. Their first publication was an English translation of the Recuyell of the Historyes of Troye in 1473, which Caxton himself translated. Upon his return to England, he is credited with opening the first printing press in 1476.

The History of Jason was first published c. 1477 and is Caxton’s English translation of a French romance by Raoul Lefèvre from c.1460. The History of Jason constructs Jason as a typical romance hero, and places a great deal of emphasis upon his previous marriage contract with the Queen Mirro to nullify his bond with Medea. However, once Mirro has died (shot with an arrow through the throat by Patroclus on the orders of King Aeson), the way is opened for Jason and Medea’s reunion.

Topics for discussion
• Thinking about translation, to what extent do the two versions of Ovid’s Medea count as different texts? Where are the differences? Why might these differences exist? Or has little enough changed in the approx. 450 years that they are still recognisably the same text?
• How do the beginnings of the Ovidian Medea and Chaucer’s ‘Legend of Hypsipyle’, set up different expectations for the texts?
• How is Jason portrayed throughout these texts, and how does that influence how we perceive Medea?
• Consider the three different endings these texts present for Medea. Is the ‘Happily Ever After’ Caxton gives Jason and Medea convincing in the light of the other versions of her tale?
• What tensions, fears, and anxieties might the figure of Medea have played upon and incited in the medieval and early modern period?
• Medea is foremost remembered as the mother who killed her sons. How useful are the various labels that have been attached to Medea – ‘murderess, necromancer and sorceress’[5] – when considering her construction as a character?
• What do we think of Medea? Is she a villain? A victim? Is she ever sympathetic?

References
[1] Siobhan McElduff, ‘The Multiple Medeas of the Middle Ages’, Ramus, Vol. 40, No. 2 (2012), p. 191.
[2] Geoffrey of Vinasuf, as quoted in Florence Percival, Chaucer’s Legendary Good Women (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), p. 203
[3]Katherine Heavey, The Early Modern Medea: Medea in English Literature, 1558–1688, p. 1.
[4] Bartolo A. Natoli, Silenced Voices: The Poetics of Speech in Ovid(Wisconsin: University of Wisconsin press, 2017), p. 11.
[5] Florence Percival, Chaucer’s Legendary Good Women (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), p. 203.

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Medieval Nightingales (11th July)

Peckham's nightingale
Historiated initials from John Peckham’s Philomena, The Hunterian Museum, Special Collections, MS Hunter 231 (U.3.4)

Next meeting: 11th July 2017 / Room 2.46 / 3-5pm

The long history of the nightingale in European literature spans from Homer to T.S. Eliot, and over the course of this history, the meanings attributed to the bird have varied greatly. The nightingale’s most notable feature is its song and this evolved a myriad of meanings in vernacular literature over the course of the medieval period. The variation in interpretations (which has included springtime, the poet or poetic muse, and romantic or sexual love) has been described by Albert R. Chandler as showing ‘how sentiment and imagination vary with the nationality, epock, and individuality of the writer’. [1]

In The Odyssey, the earliest poetic appearance of the nightingale, the bird’s song is heard as Penelope speaks of the grief that catches her when she is left alone and awake at night. Penelope interprets the nightingale’s song as being that of Pandareus’ daughter, lamenting her son Itylus, whom she killed by mistake. This story then survives in its most complete and well-known form in Book VI of Ovid’s Metamorphoses, as the story of Philomela. The violence of the Ovidian myth has provided one explanation for the nightingale’s song often being described as a lament; however, according to Wendy Pfeffer, the significance of the Philomela myth to the medieval world was limited to ‘bequeath[ing] to medieval Europe the word “Philomela” as a synonym for “luscinia”, the classical Latin word for nightingale.’ [2]

It was not until John Gower’s retelling of the Ovidian myth as part of his Confessio Amantis in the late fourteenth-century that the sisters’ transformation into birds was expanded. Gower interpreted the nightingale’s song once more as a lament, but for a lost virginity rather than a murdered child. His nightingale sings, “O why, O why ne were I yit a maide?” and rejoices in her new avian form, as it means a respite from the shame:

“Ha, nou I am a brid,

Ha, nou mi face mai ben hid:

ThoghI have lost mi Maidenhede,

Schal noman se my chekes red.”

(Confessio Amantis, ll. 5985-8)

Elsewhere, the nightingale appeared often in the lyrics of the Provencal troubadours, though as a motif it was rarely developed upon and in the few lyrics where the bird does have a clearly identifiable function, it is either a messenger or representative of the poet himself. Among the Carmina Burana, there are twenty-one poems in the Benedictbeueren manuscript that reference the nightingale. In these, it is primarily as a harbinger of spring that the bird is recognised, although it also appears as either a symbol of love or an incitement to love. One poem in particular within the Carmina Burana associates the song of the nightingale in the early evening with sexual intercourse, which links to the image of the nightingale as a sexual motif as suggested in The Owl and the Nightingale.

Overview of the texts

  • The Owl and the Nightingale is an anonymous Middle English poem and is the earliest English example of verse contest, featuring a debate between the two birds on their flaws. It survives in two manuscripts, ff. 156-68, Jesus College, Oxford, MS. 29 and ff. 233-46 of British Library M.S. Cotton Caligula A.IX, both of which have been dated to the late thirteenth century. The poem itself is thought to date from between 1189 to 1216, this due to the prayer for the soul of King Henry at lines 1091-2: ‘Þat underyat þe king Henri: Jesus his soule do merci!’ Throughout the poem, the birds reference a Nicholas of Guilford as a worthy judge and all-round excellent person and the poem ends with the pair flying to find Nicholas so he can settle their debate once and for all.
  • John Peckham’s Philomena has been called one of the greatest of the thirteenth century. Surviving in over thirty manuscripts, it is the first broadly popular poem known to have used the nightingale to represent the Passion of Christ and represents a culmination of elements taken from both Old French and Latin religious verse. The nightingale is said to represent the Christian soul as it meditates on the history of mankind, from Creation through to Redemption. At each hour, the nightingale sings a different song to relate another piece of Christian history, culminating at the hour of Nones and the Crucifixion when the song reaches its crescendo and the bird dies.
  • Two Nightingale Poems by John Lydgate show two separate attempts at engaging with the religious nightingale tradition. The first, ‘The Nightingale’ is loosely based upon Peckham’s Philomena and while it follows the same seven-part structure of a prologue, Lauds, Prime, Terce, Sext, None and an epilogue, it differs significantly from Peckham in addressee, interpretation, and conclusion. The second, ‘A Sayenge of the Nyghtyngale’ is a dream vision, in which an angel instructs the poet-narrator on the true meaning of nightingale’s song. After having thought it symbolic of Venus and Cupid, the angel repeatedly insists, ‘Thyn aduertaence is gouerned wrong’ (l. 57) kand explains the nightingale actually sings in praise of pure love by grieving the suffering of Christ. This second poem ends abruptly and was seemingly abandoned.
  • ‘Laüstic’, a Breton lai by Marie de France, survives only in a single manuscript, known as Harley 978. It is the shortest of the texts we will be looking at and the only European example. The nightingale here represents adulterous love, as a young woman uses the excuse of listening to the song of the nightingale to explain her presence at the window to see her lover. The death of the nightingale at the hands of the cuckolded husband signals the end of the illicit communication between the lovers, and Michelle Freeman has suggested it to symbolise the cutting out of Philomela’s tongue in the Ovidian myth.[3]

Topics for discussion

  • How do we read Lydgate’s efforts to engage with the nightingale tradition? Is he convincing in his arguments? Consistent?
  • In ‘The Nightingale’, Lydgate describes himself as a translator of Peckham’s work. How effectively does he engage with his source material? Can ‘The Nightingale’ be better described as anything other than a translation?
  • Is ‘The Sayenge of the Nyghtyngale’ what we expect from a dream vision?
  • How do the extracts from ‘The Owl and the Nightingale’ portray the nightingale? What themes arise that we don’t see elsewhere?
  • Given the portrayal of the nightingale in ‘The Owl and the Nightingale’, why might John Peckham have felt the bird suited a religious retelling?
  • How is the nightingale used in ‘Laüstic’? How is this different to the English nightingale traditions seen in the other texts?
  • How relevant are the classical myths in relation to the vernacular nightingale traditions that emerge in the text? Is the recurrence of the name “Philomena” as name for the nightingale significant?
  • Which of the interpretations of the nightingale’s song is most convincing? Do any of them supersede the others?

References

[1] Albert R. Chandler, ‘The Nightingale in Greek and Latin Poetry’, The Classical Journal, Vol. 30, No. 2 (1934), p.78.

[2] Wendy Pfeffer, The Change of Philomel The Nightingale in Medieval Literature (New York: Peter Lang Publishing, Inc., 1985), p. 2.

[3] Michelle A. Freeman, ‘Marie de France’s Poetics of Silence: The Implications for a Feminine Translatio’, PMLA, Vol. 99, No. 5 (1984), p. 869.

Further reading

A Short Analysis of The Owl and the Nightingale

William Caxton, Prologues and paratexts (21st September 2016)

File:The Caxton Celebration - William Caxton showing specimens of his printing to King Edward IV and his Queen.jpg

The Caxton Celebration (1877)

Next meeting: 21st September 2016 / Room 0.43 / 3-5pm

Very little of William Caxton’s early life is known, though biographers have made an effort to speculate based on the family name of Caxton (and ‘Causton’), which has connections to the Kent area. There is reference to his early life and education the prologue to Charles the Grete, where he states he is ‘bounden to praye for my fader and moders soules that in my youthe sette me to scole’, but the earliest archival evidence we have is not until after his schooling.

This first evidence we have is an entry in the 1438 annual accounts of the Mercer’s Company, who traded cloths and silks on routes between England and north-west Europe. The Company provided the means for Caxton to live and work across Europe for a considerable portion of his life, though biographers and historians (naturally) disagree on the precise dates. Caxton’s prologue to the History of Troy provides the best evidence we have for his approximate date of departure from England. It was finished in 1471 and printed c.1473, and states that he had been in ‘Braband, Flandres, Holand and Zeland’ for the best part of thirty years.

During this thirty-year gap, Caxton became a Merchant Adventurer and a relatively wealthy businessman with connections across Europe. As his wealth and renown grew, so did his involvement in international politics. Around 1462, he became Governor of the English Nation at Bruges. As a result of this role, he spent several years in Flanders, at the court of Duke Philip the Good of Burgundy, and was present at many of the trade negotiations between England and Burgundy. Caxton eventually resigned from his governorship to devote time to translating and printing. The source of his interest in this area is still speculated upon, but some of those contacts Caxton established across his mercantile career will have included printers in Cologne.

The first of his publications, the History of Troy was printed at Bruges, shortly after the translation was finished c.1471. Following this, he returned to England in the early 1470s, to begin printing in Westminster. Caxton is recorded as having paid for a year’s rent for a shop near Westminster Abbey on 30 September, 1476 – at the price of ten shillings. He continued to rent this shop each year until his death in 1491. His successor, Wynkyn de Worde, also remained in this location until he moved premises in 1500. The shopfront Caxton selected was expertly placed. The city was one of great mercantile connection, and the shop was directly between the King’s Palace of Westminster (now the Houses of Parliament) and the Abbey Church. It was a location that attracted an audience of royalty and nobility, of the Church, of the Law, and of the middle and mercantile classes alike.

The texts Caxton chooses to translate include a wide range of materials: indulgences, books of chivalry and courtesy, historical texts, and romances, the prologues to which we are examining in this session. The romances Caxton selected for translation were undoubtedly influenced by his time in the Burgundian court, and the emphasis placed by the court and Duke Philip upon the chivalric code. Many of the romances represent the fashionable views and preferred tastes of the late-fifteenth-century Burgundian court. To each of these, again following the fashion of the Burgundian court, Caxton added his own words as prologue and epilogue.

The texts we’re reading are as follows:

(1) Caxton’s prologue to Malory’s Le Morte Darthur. We are all doubtless familiar with Malory’s work. Caxton’s printing of it in July 1485 was accompanied by this prologue, emphasising Arthur’s place among the Nine Worthies. The prologue is from is P. J. C. Field’s 2013 edition.

(2) Prologue and epilogue to Charles the Grete. One of Caxton’s own translations, Charles was printed December 1485, with this prologue and epilogue. The text is in three parts, and the largest and central of these tells the story of Charlemagne’s successful crusade into Saracen Iberia.

(3) Prologue and epilogue to Godeffroy of Bologne. Also Caxton’s own translation, from French, of the history of the First Crusade as written by William, Archbishop of Tyre. The text follows Godfrey, the final of the three Christian worthies, on crusade. The Godeffroy prologue and epilogue are some of Caxton’s most explicit and enthusiastic about crusade.

(4) Prologue to Eneydos. Another of Caxton’s own translations, from a French version of the Aeneid. This prologue is not directly related to the previous three sets of texts. However, the prologue is an enjoyable read, and contains Caxton’s discussions of the English language, translation, and eggs.

(5) An article by J. R. Goodman, entitled ‘Malory and Caxton’s Chivalric Series, 1481-5’. Goodman’s article is an excellent introduction to the texts from which most of these prologues are taken. She begins with a discussion of Caxton’s life before moving on to discussion of the series of ‘Worthies’ texts (Le Morte Darthur, Charles the Grete, and Godeffroy of Bologne) and their prologues.

There is also a separate blog post on Caxton’s ‘Worthies’ series, available on the MEMORI website.

Questions for Discussion

  1. Can we analyse these prologues/epilogues alone as part of the cultural context, or must they be attached to their respective texts?
  2. How are the prologues made relevant to their individual texts, and to what extent do they follow a set pattern of topoi?
  3. Caxton uses these spaces to directly address what he suggests are the relevant portions of his readership. How do these audiences differ between texts, and to what extent are they relevant?
  4. The texts Caxton printed 1481-5 – Godeffroy of Bologne, Le Morte Darthur, Charles the Grete – are often referred to as his ‘Chivalric’ or ‘Worthies’ series, based on his comments in the prologues and epilogues. How does this structure influence a reading of both the prologues/epilogues and the literary works?
  5. Do you believe the concerns over crusade and chivalry in these prologues/epilogues, or are they a mercantile attempt to utilise the printing press technology and boost book sales?
  6. Caxton translated many of the prose romances he printed himself, often literally and with a high degree of accuracy. What do you make of his discussion of the English language in the prologue to Eneydos? Can the prologues/epilogues tell us anything about the act of translation?
  7. What do you think of the continued relevance of Malory’s Morte Darthur, and of Caxton’s reasoning behind selecting this text for print? What links exist between the tales or thematic elements of the Morte Darthur and the elements we see discussed in any of these prologues/epilogues?
  8. Jane Goodman notes that Caxton’s time in the Low Countries would have allowed him to attend a variety of fifteenth-century chivalric spectacles, the records of which show that the ‘conviction of the participants … conveys their belief in what they were performing’ (p.259). To what extent do these prologues convey nostalgia for a chivalric past, or an attempt to usher in a new golden age of chivalry?

 

For further biographical discussion of Caxton, see:

N. F. Blake, Caxton and His World (London: Andre Deutsch, 1969)

N. F. Blake, Caxton’s Own Prose (London: Andre Deutsch, 1973)

George D. Painter, William Caxton (London: Chatto & Windus, 1976)

Diane Bornstein, ‘William Caxton’s Chivalric Romances and the Burgundian Renaissance in England’, English Studies, 57 (1976), 1-10.

J. R. Goodman, ‘Malory and Caxton’s Chivalric Series, 1481-5’, in Studies in Malory, ed. James W. Spisak (Kalamazoo: Medieval Institute Publications, 1985), pp.257-71. [INCLUDED IN READING MATERIAL]

William Kuskin, Symbolic Caxton (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2008)

John Dryden, Theories of Translation (20th July 2016)

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Next Meeting: 20th July 2016 / Room 2.46 / 3-5pm

John Dryden was born on the 9th August 1631, and died on the 1st May 1700, at the age of 68. He was a hugely successful playwright, critic, poet, and translator who dominated the English literary scene in the later seventeenth century. Dryden became the first Poet Laureate in 1668 and was fiercely loyal to the Stuart kings, even though their reign was not always smooth. After the deposition of James II in 1688 Dryden refused to swear the oath of allegiance to William and Mary and so fell out of favour. He was stripped of the Poet Laureateship, although Christopher Hollis has argued that this was because Dryden was not willing to work for a regime in which he did not believe, rather than because of the new royals did not want his services.[1]

Without the salary that accompanied the title of Poet Laurette Dryden turned to translation as a source of income. He translated, among others, The Satires of Juvenal (1693), The Lives of Plutarch (1693), and The Works of Virgil (1697). The full list of translations from Fables Ancient and Modern is as follows:

  • Palamon and Arcite: or, The Knight’s Tale
  • Meleager and Atalanta, out of the Eighth Book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses
  • Sigismonda and Guiscardo, from Boccace
  • Baucis and Philemon, out of the Eighth Book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses
  • Pygmalion and Statue, out of the Tenth Book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses
  • Cinyras and Myrrah, out of the Tenth Book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses
  • The First Book of Homer’s Ilias
  • The Cock and the Fox: or, The Tale of the Nun’s Priest
  • Theodore and Honoria, from Boccace
  • Ceyx and Alcyone
  • The Flower and the Leaf: or, The Lady in the Arbour. A Vision (wrongly attributed to Chaucer)
  • The Twelth Book of Ovid His Metamorphoses
  • The Speeches of Ajax and Ulysses. From Ovid’s Metamorphoses Book XIII
  • The Wife of Bath Her Tale
  • Of the Pythagorean Philosophy. From Ovid’s Metamorphoses Book XV
  • The Character of a Good Parson; Imitated from Chaucer, and Inlarg’d.
  • Cymon and Iphigenia, from Boccace

Interspersed with the translations are literary compositions completely of Dryden’s own design:

  • To Her Grace the Duchess of Ormond
  • To my Honour’d Kinsman, John Driden of Chesterton
  • The Monument of a Fair Maiden lady, Who dy’d ay Bayh, and is there Interr’d

Dryden’s translations of Chaucer were used by future poets as a way into Chaucerian translation, and were the authoritative editions for many years afterwards. Dryden saw himself as being within a continuing tradition of great writers, and worked to present himself as exactly that, with strong links to the literary past. He was the first to dub Chaucer as ‘the father of English literature’ and wrote that ‘Shakespeare was the Homer, or father of our dramatic poets’ in An Essay on Dramatic Poesie (1668).

Questions for discussion

  1. How does Dryden’s theory – or perhaps theories – of translation change over time?
  2. Do we agree with Dryden’s theory that translation should be an essence capturing exercise, rather than an exact science? Does this endanger the integrity of the text?
  3. Does it seem likely that Dryden’s views on translation changed, or did he see a way in which looser translation could be used to build a canon?
  4. In what ways is Dryden attempting to construct a canon, with himself as the latest in that line?
  5. Is it problematic that the same man building the canon is also the primary mediator of that canon to the general public? Dryden kick started an age of translation into vernacular English, and also adapted a number of Shakespeare plays including The Tempest (1667) and All for Love (1677), an imitation of Antony and Cleopatra.
  6. What techniques does Dryden use in these extracts that we might recognise as being medieval? Do any of the techniques seem especially Chaucerian?
  7. Dryden chose to translate The Knight’s Tale, The Tale of the Nun’s Priest, The Wife of Bath’s Tale, and gave us The Character of a Good Parson; Imitated from Chaucer, And Inlarg’d. What does the choice of tales tell us about the canon Dryden is trying to construct? Is it relevant that at least two of these tales are among the most romance like within Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales?
  8. For those who know the other texts translated in Fables Ancient and Modern, can the selection from Chaucer be linked to these other, more classical, texts? Where does The Flower and the Leaf fit into this selection?

 

[1]Hollis, Christopher, Dryden (New York: Hookell House Publishers LTD., 1974), p. 151