Palamon’s intense jealousy, which could face death cheerfully, but not the yielding up of his beloved to another man, and his anxiety that Arcite should not survive him, are of course less ignoble than they seem if viewed in the light of the times. It was this same jealousy which prompted him to betray Arcite as soon as he got the chance—forgetting that Arcite had not betrayed him, the day before, when he was in his power. But Chaucer himself once or twice refers to his mind being unhinged—‘wood for love’—which claims our forbearance.
Again, the appearance of Licurge (taken as Palamon’s portrait) is very characteristic. His eye is fierce, his get-up is mighty, barbaric, bizarre; but Emetrius (Arcite) appears in a much more usual way. Licurge mounts a chariot drawn by bulls—Emetrius rides on horseback, like an ordinary knight. Licurge is enveloped in a bear’s hide—Emetrius is properly caparisoned.
It is also noteworthy that Palamon entreats Venus for success, for he can think of nothing but his love: Arcite thinks it more prudent to address Mars, since he has got to win Emelye by fight—he has considered the question, you see; and it is therefore (I think) that the preference is given to Palamon in marrying Emelye, because society so exalted the passion of love in those days, while Arcite is made to suffer for his very prudence, which might argue a less absorbing passion.
It was a master-thought to make Arcite die by an accident, so that neither of the rivals vanquished the other, and Palamon escapes the possible reproach of winning his happiness by slaying his friend.
The sympathy, however, remains with Arcite. His character is beautifully developed. It is not inconsistent with his power of self-control and brave heart, noble throughout, that he is able to make such a sacrifice on his death-bed as to give Emelye to Palamon. It is a sign of forgiveness of Palamon, who, at the point of death, showed no such generosity; and the greatness of the sacrifice must be estimated by remembering the mediæval view of love and love-matters.
I do not think that Palamon could have done that, any more than he could have concealed his identity in Theseus’ court.[112]
The Friar’s Tale.
This worthy Friar (Chaucer says), as he rode along with the rest of the company, kept looking askance at the Summoner, whom he evidently regarded as an enemy,[113] and though, as yet, for common civility’s sake, he had not said anything to him which could cause a regular quarrel, it was quite plain there was little love lost between them.