§ 70. The Franklin's Prologue. This Prologue is rightly placed before the Tale even in the black-letter editions and in the MSS. which assign lines 673-708 to the Marchant. In the old editions, it follows the (once final) stanza of the Clerkes Tale which is printed in the footnote to p. 424 (vol. iv).
§ 71. The Frankeleyns Tale. We cannot doubt that Chaucer adapted this Tale, as he himself asserts, from a Breton lay; cf. note to F 709. Not only is the scene laid in Brittany (F 729), but we find special mention of Penmark (801) and of Kayrrud (808); see notes. The story itself turns upon the magical removal of rocks on the Breton coast (993). This is particularly worthy of notice, because (as will be seen below) Boccaccio altered this circumstance in order to render the story more congruous to an Italian location and scenery; a fact which shews at once that Chaucer did not adopt the story from the Italian, as some have inconsiderately assumed. It must be said once more, that Chaucer does not seem to have read the Decamerone.
The whole character of the story agrees well with that of the Breton lays versified by Marie de France; indeed, it is almost a wonder that her collection does not include the story now under consideration.
The ultimate source of the Tale is certainly Eastern, as shewn in Mr. Clouston's essay on the story of 'The Damsel's Rash Promise,' printed in Originals and Analogues (Chaucer Soc.), p. 291. I cannot do better than transcribe his remarks:—
'The oldest known form of Chaucer's well-told Tale of the chaste Dorigen is probably found in a group of Indian fictions entitled Vetála Panchavinsati, "Twenty-five Tales of a Vetála," or Vampyre, which are incorporated with the great Sanskrit collection, Kathá Sarit Ságara, "Ocean of the Rivers of Story"; but they still exist as a separate and distinct work, though considerably abridged, in most of the vernacular languages of India: in Tamil, Vedála Kadai; in Hindí, Bytál Pachísí, &c.... This is the Vetála story, from Prof. C. H. Tawney's translation of the Kathá Sarit Ságara, published at Calcutta, vol. ii. p. 278[[159]].
'The Story of Madanasená.
'There was an excellent King of the name of Vírabáhu, who imposed his orders on the heads of all kings. He had a splendid city named Anangapura, and in it there lived a rich merchant, named Arthadatta; that merchant-prince had for elder child a son called Dhanadatta, and his younger child was a pearl of maidens, named Madanasená.
'One day, as she was playing with her companions in her own garden, a young merchant, named Dharmadatta, a friend of her brother, saw her. When he saw that maiden ..., he was at once robbed of his senses by the arrows of love, that fell upon him in showers.... Then Madanasená entered her house, and grief at no longer beholding her entered the breast of Dharmadatta....
'In the meanwhile Dharmadatta went home, and thinking upon that fair one, he remained tossing to and fro upon his bed, smitten by the rays of the moon.... And in the morning he woke up, and went and saw her once more in that very garden, alone and in privacy. So he went up to her, longing to embrace her, and falling at her feet, he tried to coax her with words tender from affection. But she said to him with great earnestness: "I am a maiden, betrothed to another ... for my father has bestowed me on the merchant Samudradatta, and I am to be married in a few days."... But Dharmadatta said to her: "Happen what may, I cannot live without you." When the merchant's daughter heard this, she was afraid that he would use force to her, so she said to him: "Let my marriage first be celebrated here; let my father reap the long-desired fruit of bestowing a daughter in marriage; then will I certainly visit you, for your love has gained my heart." When he heard this, he said: "I love not a woman that has been embraced by another man."... She replied: "Then I will visit you as soon as I am married, and afterwards I will go to my husband." But though she made this promise, he would not let her go without further assurance; so she confirmed the truth of her promise with an oath. Then he let her go, and she entered the house in low spirits.
'And when the lucky day had arrived, and the auspicious ceremony of marriage had taken place, she went to her husband's house, and spent that day in merriment, and then retired with him. But she repelled her husband's caresses, and said slowly, with downcast face: "I love you more than my life, but hear what I have to say. Rise up cheerfully, and promise me immunity from punishment; take an oath to that effect, my husband, in order that I may tell you." [She then repeats the story.]