Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales
Authorities interpreting Chaucerian depictions of drunkenness have traditionally centered on the state since an unalloyed vice, citing variously since justification the poet's Christian conservatism, his intimate affiliation with the contemptible London vintner community, and even possible direct familiarity with dependency on alcohol. While we need to always stay vigilant to the evils of excessive inebriation, to represent Chaucer's pictures of drink and revelry in The Canterbury Tales since an unqualified denunciation is to oversimplify the poet's job and to profane his artwork. By fusing his portrayals of drunkenness with the revelation of truth and philosophical insight, Chaucer demonstrates the capability of wines and light beer to stir up the odd earthiness of humanity we so frantically seek to avoid and that is and so fundamental to the corporeal encounter.
On the surface, drunkenness inside the Canterbury Stories seems to be a force of disruption. The belligerent Burns churlishly needs to tell his tale prior to Monk and therefore violates the Host's planned order of tale-telling. Without a doubt, the Miller's interruption violates the very composition of the middle ages social purchase by having member of the third property of commoners interrupt the representative of the nobility embodied in the Dark night. In another example of disruption, the intoxicated Make falls away his equine as the party finally approaches Canterbury. He, as well, causes a weighty disturbance as the stronger pilgrims are forced to remount "his hevy dronken cors" (IX. 67). For its tendency to disrupt the tales, commentators have traditionally portrayed drunkenness in an unfavorable light. But, such an model is misguided. The breakouts of drunken...
... enness is "hard-wired into the framework as a whole. " But drunkenness in the Reports is not "a regarding some pervasive spiritual malaise, " as Bowers argues; drunkenness can be described as sign of the vibrant religious vitality. Drunkenness realigns the pilgrims together with the inescapable earthy creatureliness that constitutes the basic paradox of the human state. We assiduously endeavor to go beyond our materials world and use variety euphemisms to stop the truth, nevertheless we without doubt come a crash down into the filthy, funky, moist humus. We are ever burying our dead, ever before reconstituting the humando. Not any, the answer lies not in Bowers's teetotalism; Criseyde holds the truth. "In all the pieces, I woot, ther lith mesure, " she says. Every thing must come in moderation, including moderation alone. According to Chaucer, a couple of drams of whiskey will be just fine. In vino veritas.