In the “General Prologue” to Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, Chaucer tests the standards for classical poetics, as described by Plato, Aristotle, and Horace. Like Dante, Chaucer portrays himself as a silent pilgrim, quietly observing the people around him. While in the Divina Commedia, Dante is led by the great Latin poet, Virgil, reporting on his celestial journey, in The Canterbury Tales Chaucer is led by a mix of noble and bawdy pilgrims competing to tell stories while en route to Canterbury Cathedral. The Tales become a testing ground for the idea of persuasion in Aristotle’s Rhetoric (Which speaker do we trust? Who is reliable and persuasive?), as well as Horace’s Ars Poetica (Which of the poets tell the tale that is both informative and delightful?) Each character is asked to reach the height of their own virtue, reflected in their particular story. Thus The Canterbury Tales comes to light as a certain character study of poets. Which souls make great poets? Chaucer takes great care to introduce the garb and moral qualities of each character, save for himself. Chaucer is the silent pilgrim, and our great effort in summitting The Canterbury Tales is to dissect the text and discover Chaucer in his own work, beginning with his commentary in the General Prologue, and continuing with his observations of each character, as well as Chaucer’s own tale.
The humor and satire of the Canterbury Tales mirrors a comedy by Aristophanes in its playful and, at times, ribald story-telling. However, it also mirrors the structure of a Platonic dialogue, especially with many tales representing a kind of dialectic. Plato’s Laws comes to mind. In The Laws, three men engage in a public discussion about the laws of the best city that can actually come into being while they are on a day-long journey to the sacred mountain on Crete. Similarly, the men and women of The Canterbury Tales are on a sacred pilgrimage to Canterbury to the remains of Thomas Becket whose remains lay in Canterbury Cathedral. To recall the story of Thomas Becket – he was the archbishop of Canterbury who had a tumultuous relationship with King Henry II. According to popular mythology, the King infamously had Becket killed at Canterbury Cathedral in 1170. Shortly before his death, Becket stayed in Southwark, hence the imitation of his travels as a pilgrimage. The story of Thomas Becket also represents the growing tension between the church and the state in Western literature.
It is not sufficient to label the whole of the The Canterbury Tales as merely one or the other: tragic or comic. Instead The Canterbury Tales, overall, is a comedy, dealing lightly with a sacred pilgrimage while it is filled with interpolated tales, both tragic and comic. Considered next to one another, and in contrast to one another, each story (and therefore its corresponding author) is judged within a certain context.
As indicated in the General Prologue, the primary setting of the Tales is first identified not by a place, but rather a timeframe: “whan” or “when” April’s rains have brought forth Spring in full bloom. It is the time of “the ram” in its halfway “cours y-ronne,” and the lark in melody. The setting is Arcadian; blissful and pastoral.
We receive our narrator at line 21. Chaucer is sitting at The Tabard, an historic Inn in Southwark (central London) on his way to Canterbury “with ful devout corage” when suddenly a group of twenty-nine “sondry folk” who are all pilgrims arrive at the inn. The narrative is written in past-tense: they are recollections of Chaucer. The group he encounters is also en route to Canterbury. Chaucer speaks with them and then joins their fellowship by unanimous consent. And while he has “tyme and space” Chaucer endeavors to paint a picture of each of the twenty-nine: their “condicioun,” who they are, what degree, and their “array” or garb. The form and the presentation of each character is just as important as their content.
First is the Knight. The Knight is most virtuous and truthful and honorable; a lover of freedom. He brings with himself fine horses, but he is not dressed gaily, his tunic is smudged since he only just arrived back in England from his many defenses of Christendom abroad, and he has arrived late to the pilgrimage.
With the Knight is his son, a Squire, “a lovyer, and a lusty bacheler” of about twenty years of age. He is a lover of music and writing and jousting. He sleeps very little and wears a gown that is short with long sleeves. At his side is a Yeoman, and no other servants. The Yeoman wears a green cloak with peacock-feathered arrows with a bow and a sword, dagger, and a silver image of Saint Christopher on his breast (the patron saint of travelers). Chaucer supposes him to be a forester.
Pictured above is the Prioress (above left), the Second Nun (above right), and the Nun’s Priest (bottom) all taken from the Ellesmere Manuscript, early 15th century
There is also a Nun (or Prioress) who is named as madame Eglentyne. Chaucer spends a great deal of time describing the Nun (44 lines) in the Prologue. She speaks Anglo-French well, but not the French of Paris. She is described as courteous, sentimental, dainty, tender, wide-foreheaded, by no means undergrown, and she wears a golden brooch that reads “Amor Vincit Omnia” -an allusion to Book X of Virgil’s Eclogues. With her she has another Nun, who is her chaplain, and a Priest of the nun.
There is a Monk, a “manly man” who loves hunting and managing the lands of his monastery. He is a man of the modern world, rejecting old conventions of monk-hood, such as that a monk who is uncloistered is like a “fish that is waterless” and Chaucer notably agrees with him. Chaucer, the character, comes to light as a man of the world, one who is skeptical of tired conventions such as Augustine’s injunction that monk’s should work hard labor in the fields and be cloistered among books. He is not pale like a tormented soul, but rather plump and curious, a lover of the hunt. He is bald and wears a gold pin.
There is a wanton and merry Friar, as well. He is a mellow man, but also festive, and he is well-spoken and respected with deep intimate relationship among his countryfolk. His a noble pillar to his Order, He has been given special license from the Pope to hear confessions and deliver penitence, or so he says (Chaucer expresses skepticism) something he seems to do to young ladies quite frequently. Chaucer subtly describes him as a greedy beggar who knows all the taverns and barmaids, spends the money he earns from confessions on bars, and he approaches many poor widows asking for money and spends his time with people who have money, per the dignity of his position, rather than with lepers and the poor. He arbitrates disputes (also for money) and his name appears to be Hubert (“Huberd”).
There is a Merchant wearing a Flemish hat, who speaks solemnly mainly about commerce and negotiations and loans. He is so well-spoken that none know he is in-debt. Chaucer never did catch his name.
There is a Clerk of Oxford, a poor student who completed his Logic long ago. His horse is thin, his cloak is threadbare, and he had found no preferment in the church nor availability for him to join the world of secular employment. Chaucer describes him as a “philosopher” though he was never able to turn stone into gold -a laughable allusion to the fabled ‘philosopher’s stone,’ however the fact that Chaucer labels him a philosopher is important. He prefers to have twenty books of Aristotle at his bedside.
“Of studie took he most cure and most hede,
Noght o word spak he more than was nede,
And that was seyd in forme and reverence,
And short and quik, and ful of hy sentence.
Sowninge in moral vertu was his speche,
And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche” (303-308).
The Sergeant of the Law (pictured left) and the Franklin (pictured right) from the Ellesemere Manuscript, early 15th century
There is a Sergeant of the Law, who serves the clients of St. Paul’s Cathedral in London. He is a learned man of the law, able to recite and draft every case since the time of King William. He seems busier than he is. With him is a Franklin, a white-bearded and sanguine wealthy landowner. He lives for pleasure as “Epicurus owne sone” and is a lover of sensual delight. He is always at the ready to host his countrymen at his home like St. Julian (the martyr who converted his home to 1,000 people as a hospital).
The Cook from the Ellesmere Manuscript, early 15th century
Next Chaucer lists a Haberdasher, Carpenter, a Weaver, and a Carpet-Maker –all tradesmen like a “fraternitee.” They are all clothed in livery with silver knives, though none have property and their wives prefer to be referred to as royalty, and thought each one was deserving of an alderman’s rank (or a town councilor of sorts). They are resentful and look toward a higher station as their due right. With them, they have a skilled Cook, who Chaucer notes has a tragic ulcer on his knee.
There is a Shipman from Dartmouth (a port-town southwestern England). He wears a long wool gown, riding a farming horse as best he could. He is a “good felawe” who wears a dagger dangling from his neck, however “of nyce conscience took he no keep” as was not ashamed to steal wine on his travels in Bordeaux while the shopkeep slept. He lived through many tempests all over Brittany and Spain and his ship is called the “Maudelayne.”
There is a Doctor (“Doctour of Phisyk”) who is unique among all men in the world. He is a perfect practitioner who knows the cause of every malady. He is well-read of all the great men of medicine, including Hippocrates, Galen, Rufus, Asclepius, Avicenna, Averroes, and others. He pursues a moderate diet of healthy foods, with no superfluities, and is not a reader of the Bible. HE is somewhat stingy, and keeps gold close to his heart. Gold is described as “cordial” (meaning good for the heart) so they say. The Doctor is a lover of gold.
There is a good Wife of Bath (Bath is in Southwestern England) who is unfortunately somewhat deaf and is a maker of cloth. She can be quite wrathful. She had been married five times, apart from other company in her youth. She is well-traveled all over the world: to Rome and London and Jerusalem and Spain. She wears a large hat with wide hips and likes to laugh among company. Her face is bold. She knew the remedies of love, for of that art she knew the old dance. In other words, she is a well-traveled lover.
A good man of religion is among the group, a poor Parson, “nut riche he was of holy thoght and werk.” He is a learned man, and a teacher of the gospel. His parish is in the country with home spread far and wide, though he never neglects to pay a visit. He is a honorable man, and why shouldn’t a priest by honorable? If he does not lead by example, then the sheep of his flock will also decay. If gold rusts, what then will iron do? Chaucer acknowledges the value and purpose of faith, not necessarily its truth in itself, but its effectual truth. He is described by Chaucer as a fine man. With him is a Plowman, his brother. He is an honest worker who gives unto others and works diligently. He wears a tabard smock and rides a mare.
Next Chaucer curiously summarizes the last few before returning into further detail: a Reeve, a Miller, a Summoner, a Pardoner, a Manciple, and lastly Chaucer, himself. Chaucer jumbles this order listing as he finishes describing the group in the Prologue.
The Miller is a strongman, a large buffoon who tells bar stories. He has a large wart on his nose with red hair coming out of it. He wears a hood of blue and plays the bagpipes. He plays the bagpipes while the group leaves town the following morning.
The Manciple comes from the Inner Temple of high courts. He is moderate in his purchases and despite being illiterate, he can outdo any of the obscure legal scholars. A manciple is a purchaser of goods for a school, college, university, or monastery.
The Reeve is old and thin. He is a skilled bargainer and not in debt, though his lord is aged twenty not as frugal. He is rich and skilled in his trade of carpentry. He rides a stallion named Scot. He wears a long blue overcoat with a rusty blade. He comes, so Chaucer hears, from Norfolk (located in Eastern England). He rides at the back of the group.
There is a Summoner who has fire red carbuncles on his face. He is a lecherous man with black hair who scares children. He likes to eat strong spices like onions and garlic and he tends to get drunk and drink strong wine and shout random legal phrases in Latin. He is something of a dishonest and unprincipled man. He is unafraid of curses of the Church, though Chaucer is quick to jump in and defend excommunication. The Summoner knows the licentious secrets of the young men of the church, and so they do what he says.
There is a gentle Pardoner, a lover of fun and singing. He has long blonde hair. He is young, a good reader and story-teller in order to win silver from the crowd. He has a wallet of pardons from Rome.
Chaucer does not describe himself.
Next in the Prologue, Chaucer endeavors to describe their journey. First, he makes a request to the audience, a plea to humility and forgiveness for he is only trying to tell an honest tale and his “wit is short, ye may wel understonde:”
“But first I pray yow of your curteisye,
That ye narette it nat my vileinye” (725-726)
As part of his apologia, Chaucer cites the broad speaking of Christ in the gospels, which are surely not scurrilous, as well as Plato who says something akin to ‘the speech should be a cousin to the deed.’
The Host of the Tabard Inn, a manly and agreeable man, then praises the group and offers a suggestion to them since the traveling will not necessarily be enjoyable. If the group does not like his suggestion (he swears by his late father’s soul) then they can have his head. Before hearing his suggestion they all agree. So the Host suggests they each deliver two tales on the way to Canterbury, and then two tales each of the days of old again on the return journey. And the Host will be the governor, the judge of the best tale. They form a small political association that is not democratic – it has elements of meritocracy when they draw lots and search for the best tale, and also the Host plays the role of the lawgiver and king. He says he will join them on the journey at his own expense. The Host replaces Chaucer as the guide to the story, the record-keeper. Thus, the Host becomes the most important character of the Tales, next to the silent Chaucer. The Host says he will judge the tales that are “tales of best sentence (instruction) and most solas (delight).” Thus the objective will be to closely mirror the classical idea of good poeises: to both instruct and delight at the same time (Aristotle’s Poetics, and Horace’s Ars Poetica – i.e. the oft-repeated Horatian platitude of poetry that “instructs and delights”). This purpose is uttered by the Host and is the purpose of The Canterbury Tales. This gives us an additional clue into Chaucer’s project as Aristotle discusses at length in the Rhetoric the means and affects by which people can be persuaded; the moral character, presentation, and trustworthiness (ethos) of a speaker is a critical element, hence why Chaucer goes to great lengths to describe the moral qualities of each character, how they carry themselves, and other seemingly innocuous physical traits. The General Prologue deals with Aristotelian ethos, the remaining tales allow us to examine each character’s pathos (passions) and logos (reasonable account of demonstration). Then, we are asked to play the role of Host and judge which tale is the best according to classical principles: which tale both instructs and delights, because a story never exists merely in a vacuum.
The teller of the best tale will receive a free meal back at the Tabard Inn on the return trip. The goal of the project is not the award of laurels, of honor, but rather the goal is for a mild offering, an incentive. The project mirrors the dialectical competition of speeches in Plato’s Symposium, and it also mirrors the incomplete promise of Plato’s Republic as dinner is promised but never actually arrives in the Republic. If The Canterbury Tales had continued as intended, there would be approximately 120 tales, however the original manuscript ends after about twenty-four tales (depending on which edition is used). Some have suggested it is an unnaturally incomplete dialogue. If so, it fails in Aristotle’s conception of poesis in the Poetics as the overarching plot of the tales does not contain an end after its beginning and middle; however it succeeds in its imitation (mimesis) of a complete action (i.e. the trip to and from Canterbury).
They draw lots and the Knight is appropriately the first to proceed with a tale.
For this reading I used the Broadview Canterbury Tales edition which is based on the famous Ellesmere Manuscript. Here one may read a Middle English text that is closer to what Chaucer’s scribe, Adam Pinkhurst, actually wrote than that in any other modern edition.