EN7241 Authorship and Authority Chaucer and Medieval Authorship PART 1 || University of Leicester

Foucault on Authorship

p.125: The ‘author-function’ is not universal or constant in all discourse. Even within our civilization, the same types of texts have not always required authors; there was a time when those texts which we now call ‘literary’ (stories, folk tales, epics, and tragedies) were accepted, circulated, and valorized without any question about the identity of their author. Their anonymity was ignored because their real or supposed age was a sufficient guarantee of their authenticity. Texts, however, that we now call ‘scientific’ (dealing with cosmology and the heavens, medicine or illness, the natural sciences or geography) were only considered truthful during the Middle Ages if the name of the author was indicated. Statements on the order of ‘Hippocrates said ...’ or ‘Pliny tells us that...’ were not merely formulas for an argument based on authority; they marked a proven discourse. 

p.123: An author’s name is not simply an element of speech (as a subject, a complement, or an element that could be replaced by a pronoun or other parts of speech). Its presence is functional in that it serves as a means of classification. A name can group together a number of texts and thus differentiate them from others. A name also establishes different forms of relationships among texts. Neither Hermes not Hippocrates existed in the sense that we can say Balzac existed, but the fact that a number of texts were attached to a single name implies that relationships of homogeneity, filiation, reciprocal explanation, authentification, or of common utilization were established among them. Finally, the author’s name characterizes a particular manner of existence of discourse. Discourse that possesses an author’s name is not to be immediately consumed and forgotten; neither is it accorded the momentary attention given to ordinary, fleeting words. Rather, its status and its manner of reception are regulated by the culture in which it circulates.

pp.123-24: We can conclude that, unlike a proper name, which moves from the interior of a discourse to the real person outside who produced it, the name of the author remains at the contours of texts—separating one from the other, defining their form, and characterizing their mode of existence. It points to the existence of certain groups of discourse and refers to the status of this discourse within a society and culture.... We can say that in our culture, the name of an author is a variable that accompanies only certain texts to the exclusion of others: a private letter may have a signatory, but it does not have an author; a contract can have an underwriter, but not an author; and, similarly, an anonymous poster attached to a wall may have a writer, but he cannot be an author. In this sense, the function of an author is to characterize the existence, circulation, and operation of certain discourses within a society.

pp.124-25: Speeches and books were assigned real authors, other than mythical or important religious figures, only when the author became subject to punishment and to the extent that his discourse was considered transgressive. In our culture—undoubtedly in others as well—discourse was not originally a thing, a product, or a possession, but an action situated in a bipolar field of sacred and profane, lawful and unlawful, religious and blasphemous. It was a gesture charged with risks long before it became a possession caught in a circuit of property values. But it was at the moment when a system of ownership and strict copyright rules were established (toward the end of the eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth century) that the transgressive properties always intrinsic to the act of writing became the forceful imperative of literature.

Michel Foucault, ‘What Is An Author?’, in Language, Counter-Memory, Practice: Selected Essays and Interviews, ed. by Donald F. Bouchard, trans. by Donald F. 

Bouchard and Sherry Simon (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1980), pp.113-39 (pp.123-26).
Chaucer on Authorship

‘Chaucers Wordes unto Adam, His Owne Scriveyn’ (c.1385)

Adam scriveyn, if ever it thee bifalle
Boece or Troylus for to wryten newe,
Under thy long lokkes thou most have the scalle,
But after my makyng thow wryte more trewe;
So ofte adaye I mot thy werk renewe,
It to correcte and eke to rubbe and scrape,
And al is thorugh thy negligence and rape.

Troilus and Criseyde (1382-86), 1.389-99

And on a song anon-right to bygynne,
And gan loude on his sorwe for to wynne;
For with good hope he gan fully assente

Criseyde for to love, and nought repente.
And of his song naught only the sentence,
As writ myn auctour called Lollius,
But pleinly, save oure tonges difference,
I dar wel seyn, in al, that Troilus
Seyde in his song, loo, every word right thus
As I shal seyn; and whoso list it here,
Loo, next this vers he may it fynden here. 
[The ‘Cantus Troili’ follows, based on Petrarch, ‘Sonnet 189’]

‘Lak of Stedfastnesse’ (c.1380-87)
What maketh this world to be so variable
But lust that folk have in dissensioun?
For among us now a man is holde unable,
But if he can by som collusioun
Don his neighbour wrong or oppressioun.
What causeth this but wilful wrecchednesse,
That al is lost for lak of stedfastnesse?...

Trouthe is put doun, resoun is holden fable,
Vertu hath now no dominacioun;
Pitee exyled, no man is merciable.
Through covetyse is blent discrecioun.
The world hath mad a permutacioun
Fro right to wrong, fro trouthe to fikelnesse,
That al is lost for lak of stedfastnesse.

O prince, desyre to be honourable,
Cherish thy folk and hate extorcioun.
Suffre nothing that may be reprevable
To thyn estat don in thy regioun.
Shew forth thy swerd of castigacioun,
Dred God, do law, love trouthe and worthinesse,
And wed thy folk agein to stedfastnesse.

The House of Fame (1378-80)
 
And, Lord, this hous in alle tymes
Was ful of shipmen and pilgrimes,
With scrippes bret-ful of lesinges,
Entremedled with tydynges,
And eek allone be hemselve.
O, many a thousand tymes twelve
Saugh I eke of these pardoners,
Currours, and eke messagers,
With boystes crammed ful of lyes
As ever vessel was with lyes...
And everych cried, ‘What thing is that?’

The House of Fame (1378-80)
 
And, Lord, this hous in alle tymes
Was ful of shipmen and pilgrimes,
With scrippes bret-ful of lesinges,
Entremedled with tydynges,
And eek allone be hemselve.
O, many a thousand tymes twelve
Saugh I eke of these pardoners,
Currours, and eke messagers,
With boystes crammed ful of lyes
As ever vessel was with lyes...
And everych cried, ‘What thing is that?’

But at the laste aspied I,
And found that hit was every del
A roche of yse, and not of stel....
Tho sawgh I al the half ygrave
With famous folkes names fele,
That had iben in mochel wele,
And her fames wide yblowe.
But wel unnethes koude I knowe
Any lettres for to rede
Hir names by; for, out of drede

And somme sayde, ‘I not never what’.
And whan they were alle on an hepe,
Tho behynde begunne up lepe,
And clamben up on other faste,
And up the nose and yen kaste,
And troden fast on others heles,
And stampen, as men doon aftir eles.
Atte laste y saugh a man,
Which that y [nevene] nat ne kan;
But he semed for to be
A man of gret auctorite...  (2121-58)

And Englyssh Gaufride eke, ywis;
And ech of these, as have I joye,
Was besy for to bere up Troye...
Tho saugh I stonde on a piler,
That was of tynned yren cler,
The Latyn poete Virgile,
That bore hath up a longe while
The fame of Pius Eneas.
And next hym on a piler was,
Of coper, Venus clerk Ovide,
That hath ysowen wonder wide
The grete god of Loves name.
And ther he bar up wel hys fame...
Thoo saugh I on a piler by,
Of yren wroght ful sternely,
The grete poete daun Lucan,
And on hys shuldres bar up than,
As high as that y myghte see,
The fame of Julius and Pompe.
And by him stoden alle these clerkes
That writen of Romes myghty werkes. (1421-1505)

They were almost ofthowed so
That of the lettres oon or two
Was molte away of every name,
So unfamous was woxe hir fame....
For on that other syde I say
Of this hil, that northward lay,
How hit was writen ful of names
Of folkes that hadden grete fames
Of olde tyme, and yet they were
As fressh as men had writen hem here

The selve day ryght, or that houre
That I upon hem gan to poure.
But wel I wiste what yt made;
Hyt was conserved with the shade
Of a castel that stood on high. 
(1128-61)
 
‘Soun ys noght but eyr ybroken;
And every speche that ys spoken,
Lowd or pryvee, foul or fair,
In his substaunce ys but air;
For as flaumbe ys but lyghted smoke,
Ryght soo soun ys air ybroke.
But this may be in many wyse,
Of which I wil the twoo devyse,
As soun that cometh of pipe or harpe.
For whan a pipe is blowen sharpe
The air ys twyst with violence
And rent – loo, thys ys my sentence.
Eke whan men harpe-strynges smyte,
Whether hyt be moche or lyte,
Loo, with the strok the ayr tobreketh.
And ryght so breketh it when men speketh.
Thus wost thou wel what thing is speche.
Now hennesforth y wol the teche

Prologue of the Wife of Bath (1392-95)
Experience, though noon auctoritee
Were in this world, is right ynogh for me
To speke of wo that is in mariage;
For, lordynges, sith I twelve yeer was of age,
Thonked be God that is eterne on lyve,
Housbondes at chirche dore I have had fyve –
If I so ofte myghte have ywedded bee –
And alle were worthy men in hir degree.
But me was toold, certeyn, nat longe agoon is,
That sith that Crist ne wente nevere but onis
To weddyng, in the Cane of Galilee,
That by the same ensample taughte he me
That I ne sholde wedded be but ones.
Herkne eek, lo, which a sharp word for the nones,
Biside a welle, Jhesus, God and man,
Spak in repreeve of the Samaritan:
Thou hast yhad fyve housbondes, quod he,
And that ilke man that now hath thee
Is noght thyn housbonde, thus seyde he certeyn.
What that he mente therby, I kan nat seyn;
But that I axe, why that the fifthe man
Was noon housbonde to the Samaritan?
How manye myghte she have in mariage?
Yet herde I nevere tellen in myn age
Upon this nombre diffinicioun.             (1-25)    

To chirche was myn housbonde born a-morwe
With neighebores, that for hym maden sorwe;
And Jankyn, oure clerk, was oon of tho.
As help me God, whan that I saugh hym go
After the beere, me thoughte he hadde a paire
Of legges and of feet so clene and faire
That al myn herte I yaf unto his hoold.
He was, I trowe, twenty wynter oold,
And I was fourty, if I shal seye sooth.        (594-602)

He often tymes wolde preche, 
And me of olde romayn geestes teche...
He hadde a book that gladly, nyght and day, 
For his desport he wolde rede alway; 
He cleped it valerie and theofraste, 
At which book he lough alwey ful faste...
In which book eek ther was tertulan, 
Crisippus, trotula, and helowys
That was abbesse nat fer fro parys; 
And eek the parables of salomon, 
Ovides art, and bookes many on, 
And alle thise were bounden in o volume.         (641-81)
And whan I saugh he wolde nevere fyne 
To reden on this cursed book al nyght, 
Al sodeynly thre leves have I plyght 
Out of his book, right as he radde, and eke 
I with my fest so took hym on the cheke 
That in oure fyr he fil bakward adoun. 
And he up stirte as dooth a wood leoun, 
And with his fest he smoot me on the heed, 
That in the floor I lay as I were deed.         (788-96)

And yet eftsoones I hitte hym on the cheke, 
And seyde, ‘theef, thus muchel am I wreke; 
Now wol I dye, I may no lenger speke’. 
But atte laste, with muchel care and wo, 
We fille acorded by us selven two. 
He yaf me al the bridel in myn hond, 
To han the governance of hous and lond, 
And of his tonge, and of his hond also... 
After that day we hadden never debaat. 
God helpe me so, I was to hym as kynde 

As any wyf from denmark unto ynde.         (808-24)
With my gossib, dwellynge in oure toun... 
For hadde myn housbonde pissed on a wal, 
Or doon a thyng that sholde han cost his lyf, 
To hire, and to another worthy wyf, 
And to my nece, which that I loved weel, 
I wolde han toold his conseil every deel. 
And so I dide ful often, God it woot, 

That made his face often reed and hoot        (529-40)  Ye wise wyves, that kan understonde. 
Thus shulde ye speke and bere hem wrong on honde; 
For half so boldely kan ther no man 

Swere and lyen, as a womman kan.            (225-28)  Thou liknest eek wommenes love to helle, 
To bareyne lond, ther water may nat dwelle... 
Thou seyest, right as wormes shende a tree, 
Right so a wyf destroyeth hire housbonde; 
This knowe they that been to wyves bonde.  
Lordynges, right thus, as ye have understonde, 

Baar I stifly myne olde housbondes on honde    (371-80)  I bar hym on honde he hadde enchanted me,  
My dame taughte me that soutiltee... 
And al was fals; I dremed of it right naught, 
But as I folwed ay my dames loore.            (575-83)  
Upon a nyght Jankyn, that was oure sire,
Redde on his book, as he sat by the fire,
Of Eva first, that for hir wikkednesse
Was al mankynde broght to wrecchednesse,
For which that Jhesu Crist hymself was slayn,
That boghte us with his herte blood agayn.
Lo, heere expres of womman may ye fynde
That womman was the los of al mankynde.
Tho redde he me how Sampson loste his heres:
Slepynge, his lemman kitte it with hir sheres;
Thurgh which treson loste he bothe his yen.
Tho redde he me, if that I shal nat lyen,
Of Hercules and of his Dianyre,
That caused hym to sette hymself afyre.
No thyng forgat he the care and the wo
That Socrates hadde with his wyves two,
How Xantippa caste pisse upon his heed.
This sely man sat stille as he were deed;
He wiped his heed, namoore dorste he seyn,
But ‘Er that thonder stynte, comth a reyn!’
Of Phasipha, that was the queene of Crete,
For shrewednesse, hym thoughte the tale swete;
Fy! Spek namoore – it is a grisly thyng –
Of hire horrible lust and hir likyng.            (713-36)

For trusteth wel, it is an impossible
That any clerk wol speke good of wyves,
But if it be of hooly seintes lyves,
Ne of noon oother womman never the mo.
Who peyntede the leon, tel me who?
By God, if wommen hadde writen stories,
As clerkes han withinne hire oratories,
They wolde han writen of men moore wikkednesse 
Than al the mark of Adam may redresse.        (686-96) 

‘Lenvoy de Chaucer a Bukton’ (c.1396-99)
Of Sathanas, on which he gnaweth evere,
But I dar seyn, were he out of his peyne,
As by his wille he wolde be bounde nevere.
But thilke doted fool that eft hath levere
Ycheyned be than out of prison crepe,
God lete him never fro his wo dissevere,
Ne no man him bewayle, though he wepe.
But yet, lest thow do worse, take a wyf;
Bet ys to wedde than brenne in worse wise...
And yf that hooly writ may nat suffyse,
Experience shal the teche, so may happe...
The Wyf of Bathe I pray yow that ye rede
Of this matere that we have on honde.