Explore how the female voice is presented in The Wife of Bath’s Prologue and Tale by referring to lines
894-912 and one other passage of a similar length.
Throughout Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Wife of Bath’s Prologue and Tale, the perpetual struggle for female
sovereignty is what forms the Breton Lai itself. In both passages - lines 894-912 and lines 142-159 - the
female voice rises from the depths of misogyny, and, in doing so, begins to gain some of the autonomy it
so desires. In the Tale, female sovereignty is foregrounded as the Queen becomes the voice of authority,
suspending the life of the Knight in the power vacuum left by the King’s submission to his wife. Patriarchy
is momentarily suppressed, here, and in the second passage, wherein the Wife assertively confronts The
Church Fathers who conceived women to be voracious temptations, put in place by a malignant force to
tempt men from their piety. In both passages, the female voice fights aggressively against the constraints
placed upon it by the patriarchy, pushing and shoving to retain its newfound place amongst the
“autocritees”.
In lines 142-159, the Wife unabashedly sexualises the power of the female voice. Claiming that she “nil
envye no virginitee”, the Wife admits that some women “be breed of pured whete-seed,/ And lat us wives
hoten barly-breed.” In this biblical metaphor, the Wife sets up an irresistible desire for her to be associated
with sexuality, as opposed to the pallid sterility of virgins. Though she accepts that virginity is an admirable
trait, the Wife does not express any shame in her confession that the need for sex is just as potent amongst
“us wives” as it is amongst men. Drawing on St Jerome’s ‘Adversus Jovinianum’ and later, his letter to
Pammachius, the Wife alludes to the age-old metaphor that wheaten bread equates to purity, and barley
bread to marriage, in order to champion the female voice. Yet, though “Oure Lord Jhesu refresshed many
a man” with barley bread, the wealth of negative connotations this degenerate dough carries with it, from
Polybius’ documentation of the bread as punishment for Roman legions, to its symbolism of the vulva,
leaves the reader at a loss as to the true nature of the female voice - should we endorse the Wife’s subversive
redefinitions of femininity? Nevertheless, the Wife persists, cheekily linking the holy act by Jesus to sex
through this one extended metaphor, she becomes both the unlikely mouthpiece of ascetic propaganda and
a champion of marriage. Chaucer allows the Wife to sexualise the female voice in order to arrive stoically
at its desired sovereignty, albeit temporarily.
Not long after - in the same passage - the female voice condemns itself. Conforming to the vicious female
stereotypes circulating within Medieval society, the Wife’s social identity is confined to the conventions of
the patriarchy as she “wol use myn instrument/ As frely as my Makere hath it sent.” Alisoun is the image
of woman searching for expression in a society that did not allow female self-assertion. In this double
entendre, the Wife personifies canonic laws, prompting the reader to read her physical body also as the
textual body; both have invariably been marked by the domination of men. Though Alisoun can often be
perceived as being the persuasive defender for gender equality, here however, in her lecherous wantonness,
the Wife presents herself as the supreme embodiment and confirmation of misogynistic stereotypes,
initiating a self-destruction of the female voice. Ensuring that her “housbonde shal it have bothe eve and
morwe”, Alisoun’s rhetorical imperatives unknowingly render her the palimpsest of misogynist citations.
In alluding to her sexual prowess and lust, Alisoun takes control of St Paul’s concept of conjugal debt,
forcing her husband to “paye his dette” rather than realising the mutual reciprocality of this marriage
contract. Through Alisoun’s adherence to female stereotypes, she unconsciously paralyses the female voice,
leaving it stagnant in a pool of misogyny that drowns it out.
894-912 and one other passage of a similar length.
Throughout Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Wife of Bath’s Prologue and Tale, the perpetual struggle for female
sovereignty is what forms the Breton Lai itself. In both passages - lines 894-912 and lines 142-159 - the
female voice rises from the depths of misogyny, and, in doing so, begins to gain some of the autonomy it
so desires. In the Tale, female sovereignty is foregrounded as the Queen becomes the voice of authority,
suspending the life of the Knight in the power vacuum left by the King’s submission to his wife. Patriarchy
is momentarily suppressed, here, and in the second passage, wherein the Wife assertively confronts The
Church Fathers who conceived women to be voracious temptations, put in place by a malignant force to
tempt men from their piety. In both passages, the female voice fights aggressively against the constraints
placed upon it by the patriarchy, pushing and shoving to retain its newfound place amongst the
“autocritees”.
In lines 142-159, the Wife unabashedly sexualises the power of the female voice. Claiming that she “nil
envye no virginitee”, the Wife admits that some women “be breed of pured whete-seed,/ And lat us wives
hoten barly-breed.” In this biblical metaphor, the Wife sets up an irresistible desire for her to be associated
with sexuality, as opposed to the pallid sterility of virgins. Though she accepts that virginity is an admirable
trait, the Wife does not express any shame in her confession that the need for sex is just as potent amongst
“us wives” as it is amongst men. Drawing on St Jerome’s ‘Adversus Jovinianum’ and later, his letter to
Pammachius, the Wife alludes to the age-old metaphor that wheaten bread equates to purity, and barley
bread to marriage, in order to champion the female voice. Yet, though “Oure Lord Jhesu refresshed many
a man” with barley bread, the wealth of negative connotations this degenerate dough carries with it, from
Polybius’ documentation of the bread as punishment for Roman legions, to its symbolism of the vulva,
leaves the reader at a loss as to the true nature of the female voice - should we endorse the Wife’s subversive
redefinitions of femininity? Nevertheless, the Wife persists, cheekily linking the holy act by Jesus to sex
through this one extended metaphor, she becomes both the unlikely mouthpiece of ascetic propaganda and
a champion of marriage. Chaucer allows the Wife to sexualise the female voice in order to arrive stoically
at its desired sovereignty, albeit temporarily.
Not long after - in the same passage - the female voice condemns itself. Conforming to the vicious female
stereotypes circulating within Medieval society, the Wife’s social identity is confined to the conventions of
the patriarchy as she “wol use myn instrument/ As frely as my Makere hath it sent.” Alisoun is the image
of woman searching for expression in a society that did not allow female self-assertion. In this double
entendre, the Wife personifies canonic laws, prompting the reader to read her physical body also as the
textual body; both have invariably been marked by the domination of men. Though Alisoun can often be
perceived as being the persuasive defender for gender equality, here however, in her lecherous wantonness,
the Wife presents herself as the supreme embodiment and confirmation of misogynistic stereotypes,
initiating a self-destruction of the female voice. Ensuring that her “housbonde shal it have bothe eve and
morwe”, Alisoun’s rhetorical imperatives unknowingly render her the palimpsest of misogynist citations.
In alluding to her sexual prowess and lust, Alisoun takes control of St Paul’s concept of conjugal debt,
forcing her husband to “paye his dette” rather than realising the mutual reciprocality of this marriage
contract. Through Alisoun’s adherence to female stereotypes, she unconsciously paralyses the female voice,
leaving it stagnant in a pool of misogyny that drowns it out.
