Content
Beneath the surface of the debate form, the content is primarily that of a medieval satire, meditating on statecraft and attacking state institutions that oppress and exploit the poor. Indeed, this attack on the rich and defence of the poor is a theme found throughout the poem, a typical line being:
- "Look ye reeche not of the riche and rewe on the poure / That for faute of your fees fallen in thaire pleyntes" (ll. 19-20).
The narrator travels to individual groups to debate the true nature of "Mum" and the "Sothsegger," but instead finds only ignorance (a side-effect of "Mum's" qualities), and discovers that "Mum's" pervasive influence lies at the heart of corruption within the King's advisers, nobles, scholars (clerks), priests, archbishops, friars, mayors, and city councillors.
In its latter stages the poem also includes an extended dream vision (ll. 871-1287), where the idealised Sothsegger king is presented as a beekeeper, exterminating unproductive drones who are intent on stealing the honey created by the other worker bees. This leads the narrator to then debate on medieval dream theory and the value of dreams.
The poem then ends with the narrator consulting a variety of texts and stories, including a collection of "pryvé poyse" (l. 1344) detailing political abuses, a story of Genghis Khan (from the Travels of John Mandeville), a "raggeman rolle" (l. 1565) supposedly composed by The Devil, and a prophecy of Merlin.
Read more about this topic: Mum And The Sothsegger
Famous quotes containing the word content:
“How many persons must there be who cannot worship alone since they are content with so little.”
—Margaret Fuller (1810–1850)
“First it must be known that only a spoken word or a conventional sign is an equivocal or univocal term; therefore a mental content or concept is, strictly speaking, neither equivocal nor univocal.”
—William of Occam (c. 1285–1349)
“Our frigate takes fire,
The other asks if we demand quarter?
If our colors are struck and the fighting done?
Now I laugh content for I hear the voice of my little captain,
We have not struck, he composedly cries, we have just begun our part of the fighting.”
—Walt Whitman (1819–1892)