The grammatical allegory of Piers Plowman C, Passus 3, has aptly been designated ‘the ugly duckling of the C revision.’ Since Skeat's day the passage has been described as ‘tedious and puerile,’ ‘irrelevant,’ ‘unintelligible and barren of all interest.’ More recently, John Alford's admirable article on the history of grammatical metaphor has situated the passage in a long literary tradition, and thus opened the way for an appreciation of its virtues, however strange they may seem to moderns. From the goliardic song to the sermon, from venality-satire to the Donatus moralizatus, authors throughout the Middle Ages built wordplays and metaphors, sometimes extended ones, on the technical terms of Latin grammar. For the medieval preacher, various kinds of pride go before a casus, or fall: pride of name (nominative), pride of descent (genitive), pride of wealth and munificence (dative), and so on; for the goliard, one becomes genitivus as a result of too much bedroom conjugation For Langland's grammatical allegory, though, critics have had less success explaining the use of grammatical terms and doctrines. Alford gives a brief five-page treatment to the passage, focusing mainly on the analogy between grammatical rules and the rule of law; although he aptly notes the punning use of terms such as ‘kynde’ for the Incarnation and ‘case’ for a legal suit, he does not address the use of ‘relacion rect and indirect’ or ‘adiectyf and sustantyf’ around which the passage is built. On the other hand, the article which gives the most detailed explanation of Langland's grammatical doctrines still has trouble relating them to the exempla of husband and wife, master and laborer, and son and servant, and even to the key notions of meed and mercede, confessing in places that ‘Conscience's precise intentions must remain a mystery.’
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