The Man of Law's Tale, by Geoffrey Chaucer

The Man of Law’s Tale (from Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales), with its introduction and epilogue, has been preserved on a fragment of manuscript separate from any other tale. It cannot therefore be certain that Chaucer intended this to be the fifth tale, which is where many modern editions place it. Indeed, it would appear from its epilogue that the Shipman is about to tell the next tale, whereas what we usually get next is the amazing prologue of the Wife of Bath, followed by her tale. This is simply evidence that Chaucer was never able to edit the work as a whole, but it is unfortunate that we cannot relate this tale to its neighbours with any certainty.

The Prologue

The introduction to the Man of Law’s Tale (which includes the prologue proper) is somewhat puzzling. We are given a precise date and time, namely ten o’clock in the morning of the 18th of April, which the apparently well-educated host has worked out from the angle of the Sun to the horizon and the length of shadows cast by nearby trees. At all events, it is time for another tale, and the host quotes Seneca in his lyrical exhortation to the Man of Law to be the next teller.

However, the Man of Law now declares that he is unworthy of the task, because the best stories have already been told by none other than the poet Chaucer! He then proceeds to mention by name several tales in “The Book of the Duchess” and “The Legend of Good Women”. We therefore have the remarkable instance of Chaucer the poet writing praise of himself through the mouth of one of his characters. Could this be a form of advertising perhaps? Are the readers of the manuscript intended to turn to Chaucer’s earlier writings for more of the same? At all events, there is wonderful comedy here, in that the Man of Law is clearly unaware that one of his fellow pilgrims is the very poet in comparison to whom he declares himself unworthy. We, the readers, can appreciate the further joke that the writer of the Man of Law’s Tale is, of course, the very same Chaucer!

The Man of Law, not being up to composing such wonderful poetry as Chaucer’s, states that his tale will be in prose. What then follows is a tale in rhyme royal, namely seven-line stanzas with an ABABBCC rhyme scheme. Another joke? Or did Chaucer write the introduction with one intention in mind, but forget this when it came to writing the actual tale? We know from the other tales that use this verse form, namely those of the Clerk, the Prioress and the Second Nun, that this was a scheme that suited the more refined tellers, and there is also a link in that the four stories contain little humour and deal with classical or moral themes. The introduction may have led us to expect self-mockery, but this is not what we get.

The Tale

After a short disquisition on poverty, which comprises the “prologue” by name, the story begins. A group of Syrian merchants visit Rome, where they first hear about, and then see, Constance, the beautiful daughter of the Emperor (a Christian). On returning to Syria, they tell the Sultan about her, and he determines that he wants her for his wife. However, in order to do this he realises that he will need to convert to Christianity, which he does along with his whole court.

The marriage is arranged, although it is not to the liking of Constance, who laments her fate before setting sail for the Sultan’s court. Also unhappy is the Sultan’s mother, who sees no reason why she, and everyone else, should be forced to abandon their religion. She therefore determines to hatch a plot that will thwart her son’s plans. This takes the form of engineering the slaughter of the entire company at the pre-wedding feast, including the Sultan but excluding Constance, whose fate is to be set adrift in a rudderless ship, with adequate provisions, to make her own way home as best she can.

Being a pious Christian, she prays to be saved, but seems not to have thought it worth praying to be washed up quickly on a friendly shore, as she drifts for “yeres and dayes” the whole length of the Mediterranean Sea and beyond. The Man of Law is keen to point out that her preservation is miraculous, but we might wonder at her partial deliverance, eventually leading to her arrival in Northumberland (north-east England), three years after leaving Syria.

Her ship runs aground close to a castle, the constable of which takes her ashore and, with his wife Dame Hermengild, looks after her. She will not tell them who she is, but is eventually able to convert Hermengild to Christianity and the two become firm friends.

We are told that there are only a handful of Christians living in the area, the rest having fled to Wales. When the constable, Hermengild and Constance are out walking on the beach, a blind man, who is a Christian, calls on Hermengild to restore his sight. She cannot respond without betraying her new faith to her pagan husband, but Constance uses the opportunity to convert him as well.

A young knight in the town has fallen in love with Constance, but she rejects him and he plots revenge on her. When the constable is away, he breaks into the bedchamber where the two women are asleep and cuts the throat of Dame Hermengild, leaving the knife next to Constance.

When the constable returns, accompanied by King Alla, he finds the body of his wife, next to Constance and the blood-stained knife. The constable tells King Alla about how Constance was found in the wrecked ship, and neither of them can believe that she has committed the murder. The actual murderer accuses her of the crime, but everyone in the castle bears witness to her goodness and to how much she loved Hermengild.

At her trial, the knight swears to her guilt on a book of Gospels (a strange touch, given that he and the king are both pagans) but he is suddenly struck down, with his eyes falling from his head. He is soon executed, the king and many of those present are converted, and Constance becomes queen.

The story now starts to take a familiar turn, because the king’s mother, Donegild, is opposed to the marriage.

While Alla is away fighting, Constance gives birth to a son, and the constable sends a messenger to inform the king. However, the messenger goes first to the king’s mother, to whom he tells the news. She gets him drunk and substitutes a different letter which he then takes to the king. This letter says that the child is such a horrible creature that his mother must be an elf who practices sorcery.

The king’s replying message, however, refuses to condemn his wife, merely hoping that her next child will be more to his liking. The messenger makes the same mistake again, allowing Donegild to get him drunk on the return journey and substitute a false message to take to the constable.

This second message is an instruction, on pain of death, to banish Constance and her son, setting them adrift in the ship in which she first arrived. Not understanding why this should have happened, but having no choice but to obey what appear to be the king’s commands, the constable prepares the ship and Constance embarks with her son, after an ardent prayer to the Virgin Mary for her protection.

When Alla returns the truth comes out, leading to the execution of Donegild, but by this time Constance is well out to sea.

It is five years before Constance once again comes to shore, again within sight of a castle, but this time she is not so lucky with the character of the man who discovers her. The steward of the heathen lord of the castle attempts to rape her, but she is protected by the Virgin Mary and, as she fights the man off, he falls overboard and drowns. The ship now drifts off once more, eventually returning to the Mediterranean Sea.

The tale now turns to the Emperor of Rome, Constance’s father, who takes vengeance on the Syrians by sending a senator with an army to punish those who slew the Christians at the feast. Having done this, they return to Rome and, on the way, come across the drifting ship on which are Constance and her son. The senator takes them home with him, where they are looked after for a “longe tyme”. The senator’s wife, we are told, just happens to be Constance’s aunt, but neither of them knows this at the time.

King Alla repents of having had his mother executed and makes a pilgrimage to Rome as an act of penance. The senator visits the king to pay homage, taking Constance’s young son with him. When Alla enquires about the boy, the senator tells him the story of how he and his mother were found. Alla then returns with the senator and he and Constance are reunited. A second reunion then follows, namely between Constance and her father, the Emperor.

We are told that her son eventually becomes Emperor himself, although Alla and Constance return to England, where Alla dies a year later, after which Constance spends the rest of her life in Rome.

The tale is followed by a short epilogue that has no bearing on the tale itself, in which the Parson is invited to tell the next tale but the Shipman interrupts to say that he wants to hear no sermon from a “Lollard” so will tell the next tale himself. As it happens, the tales of both the Parson and the Shipman appear much later in the sequence as it is usually put together.

Discussion

The Man of Law’s Tale is full of unlikely coincidences, historical inaccuracies and geographical improbabilities, so what can we make of it? It is a form of story that is known in about sixty different versions in folklore, commonly referred to as that of the “calumniated wife”, meaning “falsely accused”. Chaucer’s source is the “Anglo-Norman Chronicle” of Nicholas Trivet, a writer of the early 14th century. The elements of false accusation, unjust punishment and letters going astray, but with virtue being triumphant in the end, are familiar elements in the various versions, but Chaucer exercises considerable freedom with the theme, punctuating the narrative with moral and philosophical reflections like those of a Greek chorus.

The religious theme is strongly emphasised in this tale, with Christianity being seen as triumphing over Islam and paganism, in the same breath as good over evil. In historical terms, this is one area where the story fails to hang together, because the real-life character of Constance would have been dead a number of years before Mohammed had the revelations that led to the founding of Islam. Another problem is that the actual Emperor featured in the story ruled in Byzantium rather than Rome. However, it is not surprising that Chaucer would have been unaware of these inaccuracies.

As a story, it is well-paced with remarkable and unexpected happenings at every turn, although it leaves many questions unanswered, such as why people would have acted in the way they did. For example, why would the murdering knight have imagined that Constance, having killed her friend, would then have gone back to sleep alongside her? As Constance was his object of hatred, why did he not kill her at the same time? Another thought is, why does the Emperor take so long to send an army to Syria? However, no doubt it is modern nit-picking to raise such objections!

The characterizations in the tale are not particularly good, as the events of the story take precedence in what is quite a short tale. Indeed, Constance is almost an allegorical symbol, being the incarnation of Fortitude in a similar manner to how Griselda in the Clerk’s Tale becomes a representation of Patience. Nonetheless, we can imagine the pilgrims thoroughly enjoying this tale, whether for its moral precepts or wondering how things would turn out in the end.