A Study Showing How Chaucer's Form Aids Content in the Tale of Sir Thopas

It's true that Chaucer's "Tale of Sir Thopas" is a parody of a medieval knight's tale; the question is whether the form or the content is parodied. I will argue that neither the content nor the form exists independently on the page and it is exactly this relationship that makes "Sir Thopas" a satiric masterpiece as well as an exhibition of Chaucer's mastery of meter.

It is difficult to persuade a group of students to begin the process of understanding written and oral Middle English, as it is difficult to engage students in any writing from this period. Perhaps Chaucer's ability to laugh at himself is what students find enjoyable in his works. Humor permeates much of Chaucer's work and, the story of Sir Thopas is one that should top the list of his comedic opportunities. The Canterbury Tales is perhaps his work of greatest popularity, but it is when the Host calls upon Chaucer to read his own tale of mirth and solace, that the humor exudes.

The Tale of Sir Thopas begins when the Host asks Chaucer to tell his own tale. The ensuing poem is written in three fits, the first twice as long as the second and the third, half as long as the second (Kolve 255). The tale begins with a somewhat lengthy description of the young knight's appearance; his features resembling that of an "elf" due to his pale skin and mysterious "countenaunce." This young man of Flanders with little to do but daydream about marrying an elf-queen is described richly with little effect as the quantity of his physical description greatly outweighs the majesty in his attire. It could be asserted that that a man of Flanders is to be considered less knightly and more mercantile, and that the very name Chaucer gives him, directly relates to a semi-precious stone, thus giving the character an even lessened sense of gallantry (Hallissy 305).

Next, Sir Thopas rides off into the forest on his "grey steede" and again the lengthy and seemingly unnecessary descriptions of flora and fauna ensue. The tale seems to be stalling itself. While he rests his horse, he recalls a dream in which he marries an elf-queen. Sir Thopas rides and rides and eventually finds himself confronted by a giant (Sir Oliphant) who will not let him pass into "The contree of Fairye" where evidently his elf-queen should reside. The young knight then tells the giant that they will fight the next morning and the giant chases him off by tossing stones at him. Sir Thopas returns to his "home" and his minstrels and servants gather around him - arming him, feeding him wine and mead. In the morning, Sir Thopas rides back to the giant. This is where the tale seems to get lost again in the naming of old knights and their deeds. Chaucer's doggerel rhyme ends up backfiring as the Host cuts him off halfway through the third fit.

It seems that the host, in sympathy for the reader tells Chaucer, "No more of this, for Goddes dignitee," for the terrible rhyme of the tale has come to such an anticlimax that the Host no longer wishes to hear it. And it is here, on lines 929-935 where my fascination with this terrible rhyme comes to fruition:

"By God," quod he, "for pleynly at a word,

Thy drasty ryming is nat worth a tord.

Thou doost nought elles but despendest tyme.

Sir, at o word, thou shalt no lenger ryme.

Lat see wher though canst tellen aught in geste

Or telle in prose somewhat at the leste,

In which ther be som mirthe or some doctryne."

The host makes it painfully clear that he wishes to hear this awful rhyming no more, and that at least Chaucer could tell a tale in prose. It could be said that the Host acted hastily in cutting off the tale, but the fact that he did shows that this type of rhyme was considered silly, even in medieval times. The host has no sympathy for ending the tale prematurely, for the sake of his audience. Chaucer does begin to tell a tale in prose but I wish to focus on what makes Sir Thopas' tale so unbearable.

It could be concluded that content alone makes for such a hideous story; that the insignificance of a child-knight and his dreams of having an elf-queen do not meet the requirements for a knight's tale. Chaucer's hero in this story is hardly a hero; rather he is a bumbling adolescent from Flanders who is unable to overcome the three-headed giant, Sir Oliphant. But what is to be taken from the fact that Chaucer is not allowed to finish this tale, in which perhaps the young knight defeats the giant? The answer to this question can be found in lines 929-935. The Host is fed up with the doggerel rhyme, more so than the actual story itself. Perhaps Chaucer is suffering from what Paul Fussell calls "metrical ineptitude" or maybe it's his very ability to use rhyme that helps satirize the poem (50).

In a metrical evaluation of the first lines of the first fit, one finds an odd rhyming pattern:

Listeth, lordes, in good entent,

And I wol telle verrayment

Of mirthe and of solas:

Al of a knyght was fair and gent

In bataille and in tourneyment;

His name was sir Thopas.

There is a very clear eleven-beat trochaic form that runs throughout the tale, which stands out from the rest of the Canterbury Tales. The poetic form serves as a vessel in which a poorly woven plot is presented. Although the plight of Sir Thopas is presented as silly and boring, Margaret Hallissy in her book A Companion to Chaucer's Canterbury Tales points out that the poem is comprised of "sophisticated satire" (304). It is an amalgamate of courtly romances where the knight is "chaste" and seemingly has great deeds to accomplish. The expectations of courtly romance contrast exceedingly well with Chaucer's unbalanced rhyme in this poem, and gives it a silly feel, which enhances the parody.

Were this poem written in prose, one could make the assumption that the story itself would lend to the parodical effect, but the inclusion of the eleven-beat end-rhyming trochaic movement only serves to annoy the reader and make the insignificance of descriptions in the poem even more unbearable. The effect of form on content here is tremendous:

Sir Thopas wex a doghty swayn.

Whyt was his face as payndemayn,

His lippes rede as rose.

His rode is lyk scarlet in grayn,

And I yow telle in good certain,

He had a seemely nose.

His heer, his berd was lyk saffroun,

That to his girdle raughte adoun;

His shoon of Cordewane.

Of Brugges were his hosen broun,

His rove was of ciclatoun,

That coste many a jane.

Already, the reader is belabored with detail, end-rhyme which seems to confuse rather than co-exist, and a rhythm awkward enough to be frustrated with. The eleven beat line is not purely iambic or trochaic, instead it uses an ostensibly arbitrary deviation pattern which provides no room for interpretation. The concept of metrical deviation here is hard to discuss due to the mere lack of knowledge on the exact pronunciation of the Middle English words. Knowing exactly how each word works in relation the metrical feet is more or less up to the reader of Modern English to decide, as the ME pronunciations tend to allow for similar deviations. Regardless, the eleven-beat line is not an easy metrical construction but it's possible that Chaucer meant it that way. It is suggested by Fussell that the coupling of form and content is what makes great literature (45), and if that's the case then the stumbling effect of this poem seems deliberate. Chaucer exhibits metrical prowess before the Canterbury Tales in many of his works, including Troilus and Criseyde and even earlier in the Book of the Duchess.

Thus, Chaucer's rhythm, or lack thereof in this poem could be considered crucial to the poems un-success, and it's eventual interruption by the Host. Again, Chaucer the poet inserts himself into his writings in a humbling fashion, much like the autobiographical tendencies of the authors in his dream-visions. However, this time, Chaucer is able to show off his metrical fortitude while making himself into a terrible story-teller.

The Tale of Sir Thopas is not in any way to be taken seriously, but instead, it is to be reveled at for its brilliant parody and regard for meter. It is the combination of form and content which makes this poem great, or purely intolerable. Chaucer's genius lies in his ability to offend his characters with bad-verse, and entertain his readers with humility.