The Linguist

10 The Linguist Vol/64 No/3 ciol.org.uk/thelinguist flawed characters such as the Doctor); intimacy or romance (the Squire's use of 'you'); and aggression or conflict (the Wife of Bath's use of 'you'). For French translators, this poses little difficulty, since the distinction is mirrored in the tu/vous system of both Old French and Modern French. Phonological and prosodic elements crucial for poetry add another layer of complexity, often sacrificed in prose translations. Beyond language lie vast differences in worldview, social structures and material realities. Chaucer's depictions of pilgrimage, feudal hierarchies and medieval religious practices presuppose a cultural literacy largely inaccessible to the modern reader. Translating the satire directed at the Monk or the Pardoner requires conveying not just the words, but the specific social and religious critique inherent in 14th-century England. Chaucer uses multiple techniques to expose the venality, worldliness and doctrinal corruption festering within certain echelons of the ecclesiastical hierarchy. He mocks individuals who flagrantly violate their sacred vows (the Monk's pursuit of fine living and hunting); criticises a church structure where offices like that of the Pardoner can be purchased; highlights the susceptibility of the populace to manipulation by charismatic yet fraudulent religious figures; and utilises contemporary details (hunting practices, specific relics) that would have resonated with the growing anti-clerical sentiment of the time. The translator must constantly negotiate a cognitive tightrope. On one side lies 'hermeneutic fidelity': the commitment to accurately represent the source meaning, intent and historical situatedness. On the other lies 'readerly accessibility': the need to render the text comprehensible and engaging for the target audience. 3 This is not a binary choice but a spectrum demanding constant, informed judgement. How much historical context is essential for understanding? When does explanation impede narrative flow? How is irony, humour or polemical force preserved without resorting to contemporary analogues that distort the original effect? Preserving irony across centuries André Crépin's seminal translation Les Contes de Canterbury (2000) exemplifies the struggle to preserve Chaucer's masterful blend of realism, satire and poetic virtuosity for a modern Francophone audience. 4 He often opts for slightly archaic or regionally tinged vocabulary to echo the historical flavour (goupil for 'fox' rather than the standard renard), yet avoids constructions that would feel artificially antique or obscure. His syntactic choices aim for clarity while attempting to retain some rhythmic complexity reminiscent of Middle English verse forms. The semantic shifts are particularly volatile: translating the Wife of Bath's assertion that "Experience, though noon auctoritee/ Were in this world, is right ynogh for me" requires conveying both the literal meaning and the subversive challenge to male scholarly authority ('auctoritee'). Crépin navigates this by finding French equivalents that maintain the defiant tone: "L'expérience, sans qu'aucune autorité/ N'existe au monde, me suffit amplement." (Modern English: 'Experience – though no authority whatsoever existed in the world – suffices abundantly for me'). Chaucer's irony, often subtle and dependent on character juxtaposition and understatement, is paramount. The description of the Prioress's fastidious table manners ("At mete wel ytaught was she with alle") and her tender-heartedness towards mice contrasts sharply with her lack of compassion elsewhere. The translator must render these details without over-emphasis (which kills the irony) or under-emphasis (which loses it entirely). Crépin relies on precise diction and the cumulative effect of description, trusting the modern reader to perceive the implied critique while avoiding anachronistic interpretations of medieval piety. Consider his translation of "And whan he rood, men myghte his brydel heere/ Gynglen in a whistlynge wynd als cleere/ And eek as loude as dooth the chapel belle" as "Et quand il chevauchait, on entendait son frein/ Tinter dans le vent sifflant, aussi distinct/ Et aussi fort que la cloche de la chapelle" (Modern English: 'And when he rode, one might hear his bridle/ Jingle in a whistling wind as clear/ And also as loud as does the chapel bell'). Translating 'rood' as chevauchait, which in medieval contexts often implied riding for martial or hunting expeditions rather than mere travel, subtly evokes the Monk's preferred secular pursuits, contrasting with the stillness of monastic life. This is reinforced by the use of tinter (for 'gynglen'), which typically describes the sound of small bells (like those on a bridle) and is a more specific choice than the generic faire du bruit ('make noise'). Its precision immediately conjures the quality of the sound – bright, conspicuous, even festive. The fulcrum of the implied critique comes with the simile 'as loude as dooth the chapel belle', which Crépin renders with precise equivalence. The cumulative effect ensures the message is unambiguous for target readers. Immersion in the source era Crépin's work demonstrates how immersion in the source culture allows the original artistry and social commentary to emerge afresh. He engages deeply with Middle English's phonological evolution, semantic shifts and syntactic structures to understand how the connotations of words shifted across registers (courtly, religious, colloquial) and contexts. For instance, translating 'pitee' requires knowing its range from 'divine mercy' to 'courtly compassion' to 'sexual vulnerability'. Immersion in medieval culture involves understanding the expectations and subversions of its genres: romance, fabliaux

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