From Maura Nolan, “Lydgate’s Literary History: Chaucer, Gower, and Canacee,” Studies in the Age of Chaucer 27 (2005): 59-92 (87-89)

 

…indeed, one might even say that meditations on Fortune form a kind of ‘‘vernacular philosophy’’ in the late fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Fortune becomes a poetic question not simply because the idea provides aristocrats with a secular notion through which they can justify their own mode of living (while poetry about Fortune provides them with affirmation), as Larry Scanlon has argued, but also because thinking about Fortune poses the problem of poetic function. What, in a world governed by Fortune, is poetry for? Does it lament? ‘‘Grucche’’? Instruct by moralizing? Give pleasure? Each of these possibilities proposes a different relationship of the aesthetic to history, of poetry to Fortune (which we might in some sense say is another way of describing the mass of unprocessed data that constitutes ‘‘history’’ in its rawest guise). If, for example, poetry is meant to moralize, then at root it is a way of acting in the world—a way of imposing order, on, and in, history. Even if the message of that moralization is simply that one should embrace virtue and let Fortune work as she will, the implication of didactic poetry is that writing is fundamentally efficacious, with tangible results.

 

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‘‘Pleynyng’’ or ‘‘grucching’’ is a case in point. At one level, ‘‘pleynyng’’ fits the moralizing model, in that it assists in the didactic mission of the text by arousing pity. But in another way, complaint is the quintessential genre of helplessness, a mode of discourse articulated by Fortune’s victims that is useless as a way of imposing human will upon the world. ‘‘Pleynyng,’’ as Boethius tells us, is what human beings do when afflicted with bad Fortune, and it is a fruitless and foolish indulgence, a paradigmatic example of wasted speech. Far better to model oneself on Griselda, the Boethian Stoic, than to ‘‘grucche’’ about the implacability of Fortune, which in this model is a principle of irresistible historical causation that is utterly exterior to the human subject. According to such logic, the aesthetic—of which ‘‘pleynyng’’ is a type—is stripped of agency and meaning, made not only impotent but surplus to requirements.

These two notions of Fortune (the idea of a remediable negative force and an efficacious poetry versus the fearsome thought of arbitrary contingency and the uselessness of speech) are …twin poles…

 

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This vision of ‘‘pleynyng’’ obtrudes as a third term between Griselda’s contempus mundi and Custance’s belief in efficacious prayer—and it is a vision, in the end, of the aesthetic, of a pointless, functionless mode of discourse with no purpose external to itself. Contra Boethius, in a world ruled by arbitrary Fortune, ‘‘pleynyng’’ saves us from both silence and moralism, from the despair of impotence and the impossible fantasy of agency. …

 

Fortune, in this reading, constitutes a flexible way of imagining the world in which either contingency or causality, chance or sin, may be operating at any given moment; it is a ‘‘vernacular philosophy’’ with its own discursive mode: ‘‘pleynyng.’’ And it is precisely because ‘‘pleynyng’’ lacks purpose (‘‘Why pleynestow?’’ asks Fortune) that it  becomes…a model for the aesthetic.