O’Connell 1

Kelvin O’Connell

Professor Huh

English Literature Survey I

7 December 2023

How to Temper Gluttony

Roistering on victuals and ale flinging through pungent air in a richly adorned hall is not

necessarily a pastime one would think to be buttressed by temperance. Routy celebration is not

something we immediately associate with keen morality and thought pointing towards

established virtues doesn’t typically show its face in ribaldry, but when life calls for celebration,

who wants to wink at weal? And who says there cannot be any grace in a modicum of gluttony,

caged within a day of convivial observance to some common good? There can be temperance in

this gluttony. When expressed, when shared, there can be good cause for pleasance.

Chaucer’s Franklin, in the Prologue to The Canterbury Tales, is a perfect example of an

Epicurean proponent of the love of food– which may suggest sin– while tempering himself.

Immediately his complexion is described as “sangwyn”, which shows us his sensibility is defined

by blood, or cheerfulness (Chaucer, ln. 333). Sanguine may also suggest the devil. The image

following the reference to his complexion describes the Franklin supping on bread soaked in

wine— “a sope in wyn”— which is yet another description which could be viewed as irreligious

(ln. 334). In the Eucharist, bread and wine are deemed sacred, and consumed in solemn thanks,

as distinct offerings from Jesus— individually. The Franklin soaks the bread in wine, which

seems to be antithetical to the consecration of these items done by the church; he also,

presumably, eats this with a spoon, suggesting the disconnect some irreligious people may feel

from Christ, given that the Eucharist is usually depicted in the hand. This image tells us that the
 O’Connell 2

type of sin something like constant cheer and gluttony can bring us to is dangerous to faith, and

blaspheming the one who sacrificed himself for us by taking advantage of his offerings. Later

Chaucer goes on:

“Withoute bake mete was nevere his hous

Of fish and flesshe, and that so plentevous

It snewed in his hous of mete and drynke,

Of all deyntees that men koude thynke.” (lns. 343-346)

The house is acting as a metaphor for the Franklin himself; here the house is full of flesh, meat,

and drink (wine as suggested by line 334), which mimics the Franklin, who is made of flesh and

meat, of course, and sanguine as wine; his hair is even white as a daisy, which reflects the snow

of meat and drink. This passage contains marked contrasts which enhance what we already know

about the Franklin, being a cheerful man with (possible) inward sin. The description of the meat

and drink snowing in the Franklin’s house suggests that on the inside there is a deep frigidity to

the appearance of warmth which first appears to be emanating from the man whom all other men

envy (ln. 342). The image of snow suggests dangerous excess, but it is not nearly that one sided.

The contrast between white and red in this passage displays the battle of lust and purity.

While the snow can suggest a spiritual emptiness within the Franklin, it can also show a force

which works against his chief humor of blood. His face being red, full of blood, means he is

guided by an energy of vivaciousness, and one could assume being driven by such strong and

active emotions, someone in his position could be carried away and neglect their religious duty.

But if meat and drink “snow” within his house, this suggests they are a counterbalance to his red

(hot) blood. With this countering in mind, the whiteness of the snow suggests a sort of purity,

raining generosity as opposed to gluttony.

 O’Connell 3

The Franklin is called the “Seint Julian… in his contree”, showing that despite his

gastronomic opulence, he is famed around his land (presumably land owned by him, given his

title “vavasour” in the final line of his introduction in the prologue), for being very generous.

This generosity acts as the temperament which keeps the Franklin from being a character of vice,

and transposes him into the realm of almost a hero. As it stands, it is hard to read him as a

corrupt, sinful man. Therefore it seems the temperance which Chaucer has given this

characterization is the aspect of hospitality and kindness. This kindness is carried out by his

duties as a vavasour, once again moving his house away from suggestions of a palace of gluttony,

to a hall of generosity, where he uses his feudal influence to do good. Mary J. Carruthers says

that the presence of the word “vavasour” put at the very end of the Franklin’s introduction

emphasizes that “the word [...] adjusts precisely the function of this character within the world of

The Canterbury Tales as representing an optimistic though nostalgically perceived idea”

(Carruthers, 284). He uses his title as his expression of gratitude, and his hall and all of its

portliness to care for his vassals, as a benefactor of meat and ale.

Though Chaucer finds virtuous generosity in food, there forever lies a suggestion of evil

in the history of succulent “deyntees” which pique our appetite. There will always be that

looming fruit surcharged, which “deigns none to ease thy load and taste thy sweet” (Milton,

V.58). Milton sets forth the idea that some food is beyond even what humans should be admitted.

I find it hard to see this as anything other than a phlegmatic edict, trying to keep humanity away

from any bit of gluttony. The age right before the flood was not marked by war, but by uncivil

celebration:

“To luxury and riot, feast and dance,

Marrying or prostituting as befell,

 O’Connell 4

Rape or adultery where passing fair

Allured them.” (XI.715-718)

Festivals are, to Milton, cesspits for sin and deplorable vices. Luxury, riot, feast, and dance are

all clouds which impetuously deluge the blurring between marriage, prostitution, adultery, and

rape. Milton does not look at the community of human spirits in positive celebration, he sees the

fallen man celebrating his fallen state, and ignoring the supreme glory which God gave him, and

he lost.

Milton’s warnings are not definitive though, and moderation can still prevail in a world

laden with traps for unredeemable excess. Herrick, maybe more than any other poet, shows us an

artful temperance of pleasure and moral guidance. The poem “The Hock-Cart, or Harvest

Home”, is a perfect picture of this balance. Herrick’s temperance is similar to Chaucer’s, it

shows excess, piles of food and meat accompanied by celebration, but made well by generosity.

Towards the poems end, at the height of its boisterous description of meat and stout ale, Herrick

reminds us:

“And know, besides, ye must revoke

The patient ox unto the yoke,

And all go back unto the plough

And harrow, though they're hanged up now.” (Herrick, lns. 47-50)

“Revoke” is a powerful word which dominates this passage. It suggests the opposite of

Epicureanism, which is what one may define earlier moments of this poem as. These are “the

lords of wine and oil”, a Dionysian train, who came home from hard labor, juxtaposing the two

to show how celebration can be merited under certain circumstances, like a reward (ln. 2). Paul

R. Jenkins described Epicureanism by J. B. Leishman’s definition, saying that “he knows that
 O’Connell 5

satisfaction resides in otium, in equanimity” (Jenkins, 59). This makes Herrick the opposite of

Epicurean, because what is essential to his celebration and love of life's pleasures is the duty one

has to work, and make yourself deserve these pleasures.

The final tercet perfectly describes all of Herrick’s message:

“And that this pleasure is like rain,

Not sent ye for to drown your pain,

But for to make it spring again.” (lns. 53-55)

Pleasure is something which motives us, which has the ability to make us greater. One is not a

mere epicure chasing lusty pleasures when there is the ultimate goal of working again, resuming

your pain. It even answers Milton’s views, though written before. Milton sees partying as

something which neglects what was our superior fate, but Herrick sees celebration as a reminder

of what we were, but not something to hide in. There is always a reminder of our fall, our

original sin, that just doesn’t stop Herrick and his group from having a good time.

The rain simile is also reflective of the pre-flood state of man which Milton described.

The flood to Milton was our punishment, but Herrick views the downpour not as something

which should destroy us, but something which revives us, and shows us the right way to go.

Roistering isn’t all sinful partying, there is a genuine argument which some poets delve into

which justifies it morally. Whether Chaucer’s Saint Julian or Herrick’s metaphor of man being

revived by the rain of feasting and celebration. Banquet halls are places where hidden within the

atmosphere is genuine human spirit, helpful and expressive; in our case it is the poet's job to find

humanity and teach it to us.

 O’Connell 6

Sources:

CARRUTHERS, MARY J. “The Gentilesse of Chaucer’s Franklin.” Criticism, vol. 23, no. 4,

1981, pp. 283–300. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/23105069. Accessed 7 Dec. 2023.

Milton, John. “Paradise Lost.” Paradise Lost, edited by Gordon Teskey, W. W. Norton &

Company, Inc., 2005.

Jenkins, Paul R. “Rethinking What Moderation Means to Robert Herrick.” ELH, vol. 39, no. 1,

1972, pp. 49–65. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/2872290. Accessed 7 Dec. 2023.

Chaucer, Geoffrey. “The Canterbury Tales: General Prologue.” Poetry Foundation,

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43926/the-canterbury-tales-general-prologue

Herrick, Robert. “The Hock-Cart, or Harvest Home.” Luminarium,

https://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/herrick/hockcart.htm