The Host then feeds the pilgrims plenty of food and wine, and takes the floor. He knows that the holiday mood of a pilgrimage means people will laugh and joke along the way. He has a plan; how many people will agree to it? They cheerfully agree, and the Host proposes that each pilgrim should tell two tales on the way to Canterbury and two more on the way back. Whoever tells the best tale–the most morally instructive as well as the most amusing (see Note)–gets treated to dinner by the rest of the gang on the return trip (at the Host’s inn, of course).
Early next morning, the group heads out and the Host has everyone draw straws to see who will tell the first tale. The Knight picks the shortest straw, and the Prologue ends as the Knight prepares to speak.
NOTE: The scheme of two stories out, two back was never completed by Chaucer. Instruction plus amusement were the criteria by which good stories were judged in Chaucer’s day. Originality was not important, but embellishment, and how well a story was adapted, were highly valued.
It is fitting that the Knight, “by cas” (by chance) picks to go first, as he is the highest in the social hierarchy on the trip. Chaucer is saying the choice seems random, but is not. This idea resurfaces throughout the Tales.
^^^^^^^^^^CANTERBURY TALES: THE PILGRIMS
The major characters in the General Prologue are the very people who soon will be telling their stories with other characters in them. So keep in mind that Chaucer’s description of each character tells us something about the character’s personality, but that we’ll also learn something more about the character based on the story he or she tells. (After our picture of the Miller, for example, we’re not surprised that he tells a dirty story.) We get further hints from the prologues to each person’s story.
Chaucer tells us much about each pilgrim, not only by telling us what they do for a living, but also through description of their clothes, attitudes, even their bodies. His medieval audience would compare Chaucer’s descriptions against the social stereotypes they knew already about each person’s profession or “station.” Chaucer’s list of attributes often parodies the standards set for a given rank, turning some descriptions into great comedy.
^^^^^^^^^^CANTERBURY TALES: THE KNIGHT
The Knight is everything an archetypal medieval knight should be: “worthy” (distinguished), and loving chivalry, truth, honor, “freedom” (selflessness), and courtesy. There’s no irony here. He is “ever honored” for his bravery. He’s quite literally been through the wars; his tunic is still stained by his chain-mail armor because he’s heading on his pilgrimage straight from his latest Crusade. He’s “gentil” (well bred), “verray” (true), in short, “parfit” (perfect). Chaucer uses all the conventional descriptions because the Knight is what every knight should be, but usually isn’t.
We hear more about the Knight’s 15 “mortal battles” than about his appearance, since his actions are more important than his looks. (All we know besides his tunic is that he is not gaudily dressed and has “good” horses.) His actions are more important to his audience (who, like us, are excited by news of foreign wars and travel) and also to his own code of knightly behavior. Keep this in mind during his Tale, which deals with two other worthy knights whose behavior dictates who will win or lose the lady they both love.
^^^^^^^^^^CANTERBURY TALES: THE SQUIRE
The Squire is a young man of about 20, not yet as mature as his father. He is a “lover” and “lusty bachelor,” which meant a young man aspiring to knighthood. His hair is curled as though it had been set–telling us he is more concerned than his father about appearances–and he places importance on fighting for his lady’s honor, not, like his father, for abstract ideals or God. Squires were apprenticed to knights before they could become knights (even King Arthur was one), which is why this Squire is “courteous, humble,” and carves meat at his father’s table. He can sing and dance, joust, and write songs and poems–all important social accomplishments for a young man of his rank. He wears stylish but daring clothing–a short gown (equivalent in shock value to a mini-skirt)–which would not be viewed kindly by priests warning against stylish clothing.
It’s been said that Chaucer didn’t like the Squire because of the young man’s emphasis on vanity and pretty things, but the description, even the curls, is the standard romance convention for young heroes. (Don’t forget, the Squire also is very agile and “of great strength.”) And the last couplet tells that he’s courteous and well bred. True to his nature, his tale tells of Gawain, a knight of King Arthur’s court, and the magical gifts he bestows in a foreign land. The tale may have gone on to speak of the Squire’s other main interest, love, but we’ll never know because Chaucer left it unfinished. (He does mention the love of a falcon for her lost mate, though.) We get another view of the Squire’s good breeding in a compliment from the Franklin, who wishes his own son were more Squire-like.
NOTE: The Squire is intentionally compared to the description of spring at the beginning of the Prologue. His clothes are embroidered like a meadow, “al ful of fresshe floures, whyte and rede,” and he is “fresh as is the month of May.” Like the birds sleeping with open eyes, he sleeps “namore than dooth a nightingale” because of his high spirits and energy. He is of nature, rather than of the “higher” orders of reason and thought like the Knight, but there’s hope. After all, he’s still young.
^^^^^^^^^^CANTERBURY TALES: THE YEOMAN
The Knight’s servant (or assistant) is dressed in green, has bright peacock-feather arrows in his belt, and a “mighty bow” in his hand, so Chaucer guesses he’s a forester and hunter when not attending the Knight. He also wears a medal of St. Christopher, patron saint of foresters, around his neck. He’s obviously proud of his abilities since he takes care not to let his arrow feathers droop.
^^^^^^^^^^CANTERBURY TALES: THE PRIORESS
Some believe the Prioress is a woman on whom Chaucer (or at least the narrator) had a crush. It certainly seems so from the description of her, which is more fitting to a beloved lady in a romance than to a nun. The description makes it seem that she’s a gentlewoman, who possibly entered a convent because she had no marriage dowry. Her smile is “simple and coy” (modest and sweet), words that come straight out of a romance, as Chaucer’s audience would instantly recognize. She doesn’t curse (or at least, only slightly, by “St. Loy,” who happens to have been a handsome courtier before he turned to religion). Even her name, “Madame Eglentyne,” meaning “sweet briar,” is a demure one that appears in several popular romances. Again, Chaucer refers to a beautiful worldly heroine, implying behavior that is far from nunlike. But is she evil, just because she speaks French very well, has perfect table manners, and likes being proper? She is “so charitable” that she would weep “if she saw a mouse caught in a trap.” Some think this implies that she cares more about animals’ suffering than people, especially in the fight of the tale she calmly tells about the way the Jews are punished for supposedly killing a Christian child. She also keeps small dogs as pets (strictly forbidden in a convent) and feeds them the finest meat, milk, and bread.
NOTE: Notice how here and elsewhere Chaucer shifts from describing the person to being inside his or her head. He hasn’t seen Madame Eglentyne cry over a mouse, or feed her dogs, yet he describes exactly how she does it.
The description of her table manners comes straight from the French Romance of the Rose, which Chaucer translated and which his audience would have known. The joke here is that in the romance this description is from a scene on how women attract and keep lovers! In fact, it is ironic that the Prioress is along on a pilgrimage, since she should have remained inside the cloister walls.
Her physical description, too, comes straight from French romances. Chaucer uses every cliche in the book: her nose is “tretys” (shapely), her eyes “grey as glass,” her mouth “small, soft and red.” Her forehead, which technically shouldn’t even be visible in a nun’s habit, is fair and broad, a style so fashionable that women in Chaucer’s day used to pluck their hairlines to make their foreheads larger. Perhaps most intriguing of all, she wears a large gold brooch (jewelry is forbidden in convents) that reads, Amor vincit omnia (“love conquers all”). It’s not clear how Chaucer means us to interpret the phrase. The original motto (from Virgil) referred to earthly love, but it was used by the medieval church to mean God’s love. How does the Prioress interpret it? It’s possible that she would think only of the godly connotations, but some readers believe the double meaning is no accident. The Prioress retains some vanities of her preconvent days, but does Chaucer intend to show her as a hypocrite? Or, because of her lack of charity, as intentionally cruel? Certainly she is not everything a nun should be–compare her in idealism to the Knight–but you can also find a great deal of affection in Chaucer’s picture of her. Isn’t it understandable that a well-bred young woman should want to keep some of the innocent pleasures of worldly life in a convent? Reforming bishops often warned even heads of convents against keeping pets and wearing jewelry, but the frequency of the warnings indicates they were pretty much ignored.