Old age and the Reeve in the Canterbury Tales
- Michael Smith
- 3 days ago
- 6 min read
The brevity of life and its sheer harshness in the fourteenth century led many poets to reflect upon it and its meaning. Perhaps the most famous of these is Chaucer and the observations of the Reeve in the Canterbury Tales.
The Reeve in the Canterbury Tales - slender, choleric and powerful?
The Reeve in the Canterbury Tales – an estate manager, financial controller or accountant – is described tall and thin but also hot-tempered. Hailing from Norfolk - a place of great riches in the Middle ages - the Reeve is also remarkably astute.
Our narrator tells us that no man could outwit him; indeed he is described as someone who knew better than his lord how to advance his possessions [CT Prologue l. 608].
Yet, when the time comes to tell his tale to the group of pilgrims, the Reeve seems worn down by life. It seems that, despite his worldly power, he has concluded - as James Shirley so wonderfully observed in 1659 - that there is no armour against Fate.
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Rather than boast about his successes, he prefaces his tale with a reflection on growing old – a theme addressed perhaps most powerfully in the alliterative masterpiece the Parlement of the Thre Ages, of which only two examples survive.
Melancholy in Middle English poetry
Melancholy seems to go along with any reflection of age in Middle English poetry; the Parlement is a case in point.
At the end of this wonderful dream poem in the Thornton manuscript, Elde’s (Old Age’s) warning to Youth and Middle Age is remarkably haunting when he says goodbye to the group with the words,
“And haves gud daye, for now I go; to graue moste me wende;
Deth dynges one my dore, I dare no lengare byde”
(I bid you good day, for now I must leave; to my grave must I wander; Death knocks at my door so I dare no longer stay here). [ll. 653-654]
In the poem, Elde is contemptuous of Youth’s folly and Middle Age’s grasping of material possessions. He knows that all the trinketry of life is futile in the end; in his discussion of the fate of all history’s famous folk he reminds us that death is unavoidable, saying,
“Ne there es reches ne rent may rawnsone ʒour lyues”
(No riches nor rent may serve as a ransom against death) [l. 634]
Before reminding us of the words of Ecclesiastes,
“Vanitas vanitatum et omnia vanitas,
Þat all es vayne and vanytes and vanyte es alle”
(In essence, all on earth is little more than vanity) [ll. 639-640].
The Reeve's reflections on life
In Chaucer, the Reeve, responding to the ribald justice of the Miller’s Tale, seems uncomfortable and angry at what he has heard. More, he seems weary of the world, saying,
“But ik, am old; me list not pley for age;
Gras-tyme is doon, my fodder is now forage”
(But I am old, I cannot play because of age;
My grass-time is over, my fodder now forage) [ll. 3667-68]
In one astonishing metaphor, he compares himself to the medlar, which must rot before it pleases:
“…But if I fare as dooth an open-ers;
That ilke fruit is ever lenger the wers,
Til it be roten in mullok or in stree.
We olde men, I drede, so fare we:
Til we be roten, can we nat be rype…”
(… unless I fare like a medlar (an “open arse”); the older it gets, the worse it becomes, until it lies rotten in muck or straw. We old men, I fear, are the same – until we are rotten we cannot be ripe.) [ll. 3871-75]
Strangely, the Reeve implies that we are at our best when we are old but, sadly, what is clear is that age also begets anger and regret as the joys of youth are gone, vanished like salt through near skinless fingers.
While the mind is willing, the flesh is not; the Reeve compares old life to the ashes of a fire which, when raked up, bare flames of an altogether different hue to the passions of youth. As he says,
“Yet in our ashen olde is fyr y-reke.
Foure gledes han we, which I shal devyse:
Avaunting, lying, anger, coveityse”
(Yet in our old ashes, new fires are raked. We are left with four embers: boasting, lying, anger and avarice) [ll,3882-84]
Life in old age, it seems, has become about the spurious embellishment of dubious achievements, like some sort of Trumpian 'post-truth' world of vanity, lies and puffed-up vacuous nothingness.
While there is a bitterness to the Reeve’s reflections, much in the manner of Elde in the Parlement, there is also a sense of foreboding.
He speaks of how the “tap of life” was drawn on his barrel from the moment he was born, and “ever sithe hath so the tappe y-ronne” (and it has continued to drain ever since) [l. 3893]. He reminds us that old age has nothing to offer but dotage [l. 3898]
A sense of pride despite decline
But to some extent the Reeve is absolved of his negative outlook when it becomes clear that, as a carpenter, he is offended by the Miller and his tale.
In this light we see the Reeve as brooding and angry at the Miller, as any professional might be when having to listen the endless pronouncements of some self-opinionated, ill-informed bar room boor. The Reeve may seem depressed, cynical even, but he is also a man with pride - and this is the skill of Chaucer.
In creating a work populated by such different people with different characters, rather than two dimensional creations so typical of many romances, Chaucer lets us see a world we can actually relate to. The true characters of people don't need signposting - they are what they are.
So, although the Miller’s own tale seems born of the bawdy tradition of fabliaux, and perfectly placed in the mouth of the "churl" who delivered it, in Chaucer's Reeve we see a different character, slowly getting angrier as the Miller's tale is told.
Just as in the modern world, people have different outlooks born of different upbringings. Similarly, Chaucer’s Reeve seems emotionally distanced from the Miller and we are drawn to wonder what kind of man he is, the problems he might contend with at home.
But rather than respond aggressively, the Reeve seems to be saying to those who mock others that old age and dotage will come to them too. Like Elde, he seems tired as he knows he cannot go back to the youth he has lost but he is also saying that none of us can be complacent about our actions and how we behave.
Notwithstanding, Chaucer doesn’t allow a false dawn or give us any sense of hope that somehow the Reeve’s lot will improve. Instead, we are left to form our own opinion of this remote Norfolk man and what affected his outlook on life.
But, as the Reeve knew then - as we know now - youth is wasted on the young.
Michael Smith, author, translator, printmaker
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About the author, Michael Smith
I am a British author, translator and illustrator. I am currently studying for my PhD at the University of York, where I am researching the effective representation of Middle English romance.
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