About the Work
The Canterbury Tales is a collection of narratives presented within a framing story, composed by Geoffrey Chaucer in late-fourteenth-century England. The work is written in Middle English verse and prose, and it survives in numerous manuscript copies, attesting to its popularity and wide circulation in the centuries following its composition. The text as it has come down to modern readers is incomplete, with the work lacking a final, definitive ending and containing some tales that are left unfinished.
The volume under consideration here is a scholarly edition of the complete works of Chaucer, specifically the volume containing the text of The Canterbury Tales. This edition was prepared by the Rev. Walter W. Skeat, a prominent academic who held the position of Elrington and Bosworth Professor of Anglo-Saxon and was a Fellow of Christ’s College, Cambridge. Skeat’s edition was based on a thorough examination of the many extant manuscripts of the work, and it was printed at the Clarendon Press in Oxford. The edition includes a substantial introduction that details the textual history of the poem, describes the various manuscripts, and explains the editorial principles employed in establishing the text. A frontispiece illustration reproduces a portion of the Cambridge manuscript, specifically the lines from the General Prologue that describe the pilgrims.
The work itself is structured as a story-telling competition. A diverse group of pilgrims, journeying from London to the shrine of Saint Thomas Becket in Canterbury, agree to entertain each other by telling tales. The Host of the Tabard Inn, where the pilgrims gather before setting out, proposes the contest and is appointed as the judge. Each pilgrim is to tell two tales on the outward journey and two on the return, with the teller of the best story winning a free meal. The collection includes a wide variety of literary genres, including chivalric romances, fabliaux (bawdy comic tales), saints’ lives, moral allegories, beast fables, and sermons. The pilgrims themselves represent a broad cross-section of medieval English society, from the noble Knight to the humble Plowman, and their tales often reflect their social standing, profession, and personal preoccupations.
Context
The work emerges from a period of significant social, political, and religious change in England. The late fourteenth century was marked by the aftermath of the Black Death, which had drastically reduced the population and altered the social and economic landscape. The rise of a money economy and the increasing importance of a merchant class were challenging traditional feudal hierarchies. The Church, while still immensely powerful, was subject to criticism for the worldliness and corruption of some of its clergy, a sentiment that Chaucer explores through several of his pilgrim characters, such as the Monk, the Friar, and the Pardoner.
Chaucer was well-read in the literature of his time and of the classical past. His work draws heavily on the writings of Italian authors such as Boccaccio, Petrarch, and Dante, as well as on Latin authors like Ovid, Virgil, and Boethius. The influence of French courtly poetry is also evident, particularly in the romance tradition. The Canterbury Tales reflects this rich literary inheritance while also being deeply rooted in the everyday realities of English life, its language, customs, and concerns.
The scholarly edition of the text, as described in the notes, was produced in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, a period of intense activity in the field of Middle English textual scholarship. The editor, Walter Skeat, was a leading figure in this movement, and his edition was part of a broader effort to establish reliable, critical texts of Chaucer’s works based on a systematic study of the surviving manuscripts. The edition’s detailed introduction, with its classification of manuscripts into types and its account of previous printed editions, reflects the scholarly methods and concerns of this era of philological and editorial rigor.
Structure of the Book
The structure of The Canterbury Tales is complex and layered. The overarching frame is the pilgrimage, established in the General Prologue, which introduces the narrator and the various pilgrims, and describes the agreement to hold a story-telling contest. This frame provides the occasion for the tales and allows for interaction between the pilgrims, which is often as entertaining as the tales themselves.
The tales are presented in a sequence that is not always consistent across the manuscripts, and modern editors have organized them into what are known as “Groups” or “Fragments,” labeled A through I. This grouping reflects the order in which the tales appear in the most authoritative manuscripts, though the exact sequence of some groups is a matter of scholarly debate. The first group (Group A) contains the General Prologue, the Knight’s Tale, the Miller’s Prologue and Tale, the Reeve’s Prologue and Tale, and the Cook’s Prologue and Tale. The Cook’s Tale is left unfinished, and an appendix to this group contains the Tale of Gamelyn, a non-Chaucerian romance that is found in some manuscripts.
Subsequent groups contain the tales of the Man of Law, the Shipman, the Prioress, Sir Thopas, Melibeus, the Monk, the Nun’s Priest, the Physician, the Pardoner, the Wife of Bath, the Friar, the Summoner, the Clerk, the Merchant, the Squire, the Franklin, the Second Nun, the Canon’s Yeoman, the Manciple, and the Parson. The work concludes with the Parson’s Tale, a lengthy prose sermon on penitence, followed by Chaucer’s Retraction, in which he asks for forgiveness for his worldly writings and thanks God for his more pious works.
The internal structure of the individual tales is highly varied. The Knight’s Tale is a long, formal romance with a classical setting, divided into parts. The Miller’s Tale is a bawdy fabliau with a tightly constructed comic plot. The Clerk’s Tale is a moral allegory based on the story of Griselda, which the Clerk attributes to the Italian poet Petrarch. The Monk’s Tale is a series of short “tragedies,” each recounting the fall of a famous figure from history or legend. The Nun’s Priest’s Tale is a beast fable about a rooster and a fox, which is also a parody of epic and tragic styles. The Parson’s Tale is a prose treatise, a manual of penitence that systematically discusses the seven deadly sins. This variety of forms and styles is a defining feature of the work’s structure.
The narrative arc of the whole is not a continuous plot but rather a series of performances and interactions. The Host acts as a master of ceremonies, calling upon the pilgrims in turn and commenting on their tales. The pilgrims themselves often respond to each other’s stories, as when the Reeve, who is a carpenter by trade, takes offense at the Miller’s Tale about a duped carpenter and responds with a tale about a thieving miller. These links between the tales, found in the prologues and epilogues, are crucial to the overall structure, creating a sense of a living, dynamic social event.
Detailed Section-by-Section Summary
The Publisher’s Page and Introduction
The volume opens with the title page identifying Henry Frowde as Publisher to the University of Oxford, with offices in London, Edinburgh, and New York. The work is titled “The Complete Works of Geoffrey Chaucer,” edited from numerous manuscripts by the Rev. Walter W. Skeat, who holds several doctorates and is the Elrington and Bosworth Professor of Anglo-Saxon and Fellow of Christ’s College, Cambridge. This specific volume is “The Canterbury Tales: Text,” a second edition printed at the Clarendon Press, Oxford, in 1900. A frontispiece illustration depicts the Cambridge MS. (Gg. 4. 27), showing Prologue lines 326-342, and the printer is Horace Hart, M.A., Printer to the University.
The Contents list the Introduction’s sections, covering the present text, the manuscripts categorized by location, the printed editions, the plan of the present edition, a table of symbols denoting manuscripts, a table showing various ways of numbering the lines, and the four types of manuscripts. The Canterbury Tales are organized into Groups A through I, listing the Prologue and various tales, including the Knightes Tale, Milleres Tale, Reves Tale, Cokes Tale, Man of Lawe’s Tale, Shipmannes Tale, Prioresses Tale, Sir Thopas, Melibeus, Monkes Tale, Nonne Prestes Tale, Phisiciens Tale, Pardoners Tale, Wyf of Bathe’s Tale, Freres Tale, Somnours Tale, Clerkes Tale, Marchantes Tale, Squieres Tale, Frankeleyns Tale, Seconde Nonnes Tale, Chanouns Yemannes Tale, Maunciple’s Tale, and Persones Tale. An appendix to Group A contains the Tale of Gamelyn.
The Editor’s Method and Manuscript Sources
In the first section of his introduction, Skeat states that the text is entirely new, owing nothing to preceding printed editions, except for portions previously edited by Dr. Morris and himself for the Clarendon Press. He credits Dr. Furnivall and the Chaucer Society’s ‘Six-text’ Edition and the reprint of the ‘Harleian’ manuscript as the foundation of his work. These seven texts are exact reproductions of seven important manuscripts, which are more important than the originals because they can be studied simultaneously and consulted at any moment.
The second section lists all known manuscripts of the Canterbury Tales. In the British Museum, manuscripts include Harl. 7334 (denoted HL, of the B-type, containing the best copy of Gamelyn, with Group G preceding Group C and part of Group B, and with various readings of two kinds—some better, some terrible blunders), Harl. 7335 (B-type, very imperfect), Harl. 7333 (D-type, a Shirley MS.), Harl. 1758 (D-type, containing Gamelyn), Harl. 1239 (imperfect), Royal 18 C II (D-type, containing Gamelyn), Royal 17 D xv (D-type, containing Gamelyn), Sloane 1685 (D-type, containing Gamelyn, in two handwritings), Sloane 1686 (C-type, containing Gamelyn, late paper MS.), Lansdowne 851 (denoted LN, C-type, containing Gamelyn, the worst of the six), Additional 5140 (A-type, with arms of H. Deane, Archbp. of Canterbury), Additional 25718 (a mere fragment), and Egerton 2726 (the ‘Haistwell MS.’, A-type, imperfect). In Oxford, manuscripts include Bodley 686 (A-type, imperfect, with a non-Chaucerian ending to the Cook’s Tale), Bodley 414 (late D-type, imperfect), Laud 739 (poor late D-type, containing Gamelyn), Laud 600 (apparently B-type), Arch. Selden B 14 (A-type, representing a transition-state between A and B types), Barlow 20 (D-type, including Gamelyn), Hatton, Donat. 1 (Tales in great disorder, containing Gamelyn), Rawlinson Poet. 149 (D-type, very imperfect), Rawlinson Poet. 141 (several Tales omitted), Rawlinson Poet. 223 (Tales strangely misplaced), Corpus Christi College no. 198 (denoted CP, C-type, containing Gamelyn), Christ Church no. 152 (A-type, containing Gamelyn), New College no. 314 (D-type, imperfect), and Trinity College no. 49 (contains Gamelyn, Tales misplaced). At Cambridge, manuscripts include University Library Gg. 4. 27 (denoted CM, A-type, the best copy in any public library), University Library Dd. 4. 24 (denoted DD, A-type), University Library Ii. 3. 26 (D-type, including Gamelyn), University Library Mm. 2. 5 (D-type, including Gamelyn), Trinity College R. 3. 15 (D-type, without Gamelyn, also contains other poems), and Trinity College R. 3. 3 (D-type, without Gamelyn). In other public libraries, there are manuscripts at Sion College (fragment), Lichfield Cathedral (D-type, omitting Gamelyn), Lincoln Cathedral, Glasgow Hunterian Museum, Paris, and Naples. In private hands are the ‘Ellesmere’ MS. (denoted E, A-type, the finest and best of all extant MSS., taken as the basis of the present edition) and the ‘Hengwrt’ MS.
The Discovery of Palamon and Arcite
After the battle and defeat, pillagers searched the heap of dead bodies to strip them of armor and clothing. In the heap, they found two young knights lying side by side, both wearing richly made identical armor. One was named Arcita and the other Palamon. They were not fully alive nor fully dead. The heralds recognized them by their coats of arms and gear as being of the royal blood of Thebes, born of two sisters. The pillagers carried them to the tent of Theseus, who sent them to Athens to dwell in prison perpetually, refusing any ransom. Theseus then rode home crowned with laurel as a conqueror, living in joy and honor for life. Palamon and Arcite dwelled in a tower in anguish and woe forever, with no gold able to free them.
The Vision of Emily in the Garden
Time passed until one May morning, Emily, fairer than a lily and fresher than May, arose before day as was her custom. Her yellow hair was braided in a tress behind her back, a yard long. She walked in the garden, gathering white and red flowers to make a garland, singing like a heavenly angel. The great tower, the chief dungeon of the castle where the knights were imprisoned, was adjacent to the garden wall where Emily played. Palamon, the woeful prisoner, rose and roamed in a high chamber where he could see the city and the garden. He complained of his woe, saying “alas” that he was born. By chance, through a window thick with iron bars, he cast his eye upon Emily, then blanched and cried “a!” as if stung to the heart.
The Rivalry Begins
Arcite started up and asked his cousin what ailed him, advising patience in prison, attributing their adversity to an evil aspect or disposition of Saturn by some constellation at their birth. Palamon replied that Arcite’s opinion was a vain imagination; prison did not cause his cry. He was hurt through his eye into his heart by the fairness of the lady in the garden. He wondered if she were woman or goddess, guessing she was Venus, and fell to his knees praying to Venus for help to escape prison, or for compassion on their lineage brought low by tyranny. Arcite then saw the lady and was hurt as much as Palamon, or more, sighing that her fresh beauty slew him suddenly. Palamon, hearing this, looked angrily and asked if Arcite spoke in earnest or play. Arcite swore in earnest. Palamon accused Arcite of being false and a traitor, reminding him of their sworn oath as cousins and brothers never to hinder each other in love, but to further one another. He said he loved her first and told Arcite his woe as his counsel.
Arcite replied that Palamon was falser, for he loved her first par amour. He argued that Palamon’s feeling was one of holiness, while his was love for a creature. He cited the old clerk’s saying that “who shall give a lover any law?” claiming love is a greater law than any given to earthly man, and positive law is broken daily for love. He said a man must love despite himself. He argued neither of them would stand in her grace, as they were both damned to perpetual prison. He compared them to hounds fighting all day over a bone, which a kite carried away. He concluded “each man for himself.” Great was the strife between them.
Arcite’s Release and Exile
A worthy duke named Perotheus, fellow to Duke Theseus since childhood, came to Athens to visit. They loved each other so well that when one died, the other sought him in hell. Duke Perotheus loved Arcite well, having known him at Thebes. At Perotheus’s request, Duke Theseus released Arcite from prison without ransom, freely to go wherever he wished. The agreement between Theseus and Arcite was that if Arcite were ever found in any country of Theseus, he would lose his head by sword. Arcite departed, feeling death smite through his heart. He wept and planned to kill himself, saying his prison was now worse than before, and he was shaped to dwell in hell, not purgatory. He regretted knowing Perotheus, for otherwise he would have dwelled with Theseus in bliss. He told Palamon that his was the victory, for he could see her in prison, which was paradise. Arcite, exiled and barren of grace, despaired, saying no earth, water, fire, or air could help him.
Arcite then mused why people complain of God’s purveyance or fortune, which gives better than they can devise. A man may desire riches that cause his murder; another wants out of prison, only to be slain by his household. He compared people to a drunken mouse that knows it has a house but not the right way there. He thought if he escaped prison he would be in joy, but now he was exiled from his weal. Palamon, knowing Arcite was gone, made such sorrow that the tower resounded with his yelling. His fetters were wet with bitter tears. He said the fruit of their strife was Arcite’s, who walked free in Thebes. He could assemble their kin and make war on the city to win her. Palamon, in a cage, must weep and wail. Jealousy’s fire rose in Palamon’s breast. He complained to the cruel goddesses who govern the world, asking what mankind is more held than a sheep, for man is slain like a beast, dwells in prison, has sickness and adversity, often guiltless. He questioned the governance of prescience that torments.
The Miller’s Prologue and Tale
The Knight’s Tale concludes with Palamon marrying Emelye, and the narrator describes their blissful life together. The text then transitions to the Miller’s Prologue, where the Host asks the Monk to tell the next tale. The Miller, drunk, interrupts and insists on telling his tale, despite the Host’s attempt to have a better man speak first. The Miller protests that he is drunk and blames the ale of Southwerk for any offense. The Reeve, Osewold, objects, but the Miller responds by saying a man without a wife cannot be a cuckold, and that he will not inquire into his own wife’s behavior. The narrator then interjects, asking the audience not to blame him for repeating the Miller’s “cherles tale,” and advises those who are offended to turn the page and choose another story.
The Miller’s Tale begins with a description of a carpenter in Oxenford and his lodger, the clerk Nicholas, who is skilled in astrology. The carpenter has a young wife, Alisoun, whom he is jealous of. Nicholas attempts to seduce Alisoun, and she eventually agrees to his advances. The tale also introduces Absolon, a parish clerk who is also in love with Alisoun. Nicholas devises a plan to trick the carpenter, John, into believing a second flood is coming, so that he can spend the night with Alisoun. John hangs three tubs from the roof as instructed. While John sleeps, Nicholas and Alisoun descend and go to bed. Absolon comes to the window, and Alisoun offers him a kiss, but he kisses her naked “ers” instead. Absolon, enraged, fetches a hot coulter from the smith Gerveys and returns. Nicholas farts at him, and Absolon brands him with the hot iron. John wakes, cuts the cord, and falls from the roof, breaking his arm. Nicholas and Alisoun convince the neighbors that John is mad. The tale ends with the narrator noting that the carpenter’s wife was “swyved,” Absolon kissed her “nether yë,” and Nicholas was scalded. The Reeve’s Prologue follows, where Osewold, being a carpenter, is offended by the tale and speaks about the folly of old men.
Warnings Against Flattery and Untrustworthy Counselors
This passage presents a series of warnings against flattery and untrustworthy counselors, citing numerous authorities. Tullius (Cicero) is quoted saying that flattery is the greatest pestilence in friendship, and that one should dread flatterers more than others. The book advises fearing the sweet words of flattering praisers more than the harsh words of a true friend. Solomon states that a flatterer’s words are a snare for innocents, and that sweet words set a net before one’s feet. Tullius advises not to incline ears to flatterers. Cato warns to avoid sweet and pleasing words. The passage then advises eschewing counsel from reconciled old enemies, citing that no one returns safely to an old enemy’s grace. Isope (Aesop) warns against trusting those with whom one has had war, and Seneca explains that where great fire has long endured, some vapor of warmth remains. Solomon says never trust an old foe, for a reconciled enemy’s humility is feigned for profit, seeking victory through pretense rather than strife. Peter Alfonce advises no fellowship with old enemies, as kindness will be perverted to wickedness. One must also avoid counsel from servants who show great reverence, as they may speak from fear. A philosopher states no one is perfectly true to one they fear greatly. Tullius says no emperor’s might endures without more love than dread from the people. Drunken folk cannot hide counsel, as Solomon says no privacy exists where drunkenness reigns. Suspect those who counsel one thing privately and the contrary openly, as Cassiodorus says this is a sleight to hinder. Suspect wicked folk’s counsel, as the book says it is full of fraud; David blesses the man who follows not the counsel of shrews. Avoid young folk’s counsel, as it is not ripe.
Examining Counsel and Changing Purpose
Having shown which folk to take counsel from, the speaker will teach how to examine counsel per Tullius’s doctrine. In examining a counselor, consider that truth be said and conserved in the matter; one who speaks falsely cannot be well counseled. Consider if reason accords with the proposed action, if one’s might can attain it, and if the greater and better part of counselors agree. Consider what will follow—hate, peace, war, grace, profit, damage. Choose the best and avoid others. Consider the root from which the matter is engendered and what fruit it may conceive. Consider all causes and their origins. After examining and approving by wise old folk, consider if you can perform it to a good end, for reason wills no one begin what they cannot finish. No one should take on a burden they cannot bear; the proverb says he who embraces too much distrains little. Cato advises attempting only what one has power to do, lest the charge oppress you. If in doubt, choose to suffer rather than begin. Piers Alphonce says if you have might to do a thing you’ll repent, better “nay” than “ye”—better hold your tongue than speak. By stronger reasons, if you can perform a work you’ll repent, better suffer than begin. After examining counsel and knowing you can perform your enterprise, confirm it sadly until the end.
A man may change his purpose and counsel if the cause ceases or a new case befalls. The law says new things require new counsel. Seneca says if your counsel reaches your enemy’s ears, change it. Change counsel if error or other cause brings harm. If counsel is dishonest or from a dishonest cause, change it, for laws say dishonest promises are of no value. Also change if it is impossible or cannot be well performed. A general rule: every counsel affirmed so strongly it cannot be changed for any condition is wicked.
Melibeus and Prudence’s Correction
Melibeus, having heard his wife Dame Prudence’s doctrine, acknowledges she has taught him generally how to govern in choosing and withholding counselors, but asks her to condescend specifically and tell how she likes the counselors chosen for their present need. Prudence beseeches him not to wilfully reply against her reasons nor distemper his heart, for she speaks for his best, honor, and profit. She says his counsel in this case should not properly be called a counseling but a motion or moving of folly, in which he has erred in many ways. First, he erred in assembling counselors—he should have called a few first, then more if needed, but suddenly called a great multitude, chargeant and annoying. He erred in calling strange folk, young folk, false flatterers, reconciled enemies, and those who reverence without love, instead of true old wise friends. He brought ire, covetise, and hastifnesse to counsel, three things contrary to honest profitable counsel, which he did not destroy in himself or counselors. He showed his counselors his talent and affection to make war and vengeance, so they espied his inclination and counseled his talent rather than profit. He erred in being satisfied with few counselors and little advice in so great a need. He did not examine his counsel in the foresaid manner. He made no division between true friends and feigned counselors, nor knew the will of true old wise friends, but cast all words in an hochepot and inclined to the greater number. Since there are always more fools than wise men, in multitudes fools have the mastery. Melibeus grants he has erred, and since one is not to blame for changing counselors in certain cases, he is ready to change as she devises, citing the proverb that to do sin is mannish but to persevere in sin is the devil’s work. Prudence says to examine the counsel and see who spoke most reasonably, beginning with the surgeons and physicians.
The Monk’s Tale: The Fall of Caesar and Croesus
The Monk continues his series of tragedies, recounting the downfall of Julius Caesar. He first laments Pompey, the noble governor of Rome, who fled from a battle only to be betrayed by one of his own men. This false traitor cut off Pompey’s head and brought it to Caesar to win his favor, and the Monk exclaims that Fortune brought the conqueror of the Orient to such an end. Caesar then returns to Rome in triumph, but Brutus Cassius, envious of his high estate, secretly conspires against him, and they plot the place of his death by daggers. When Caesar goes to the Capitol, Brutus and his other foes seize him and stab him with many wounds. Despite his deadly injuries, Caesar never groaned except at one or two strokes, and he was so manly that he cast his mantle over his hips so no man should see his “privitee,” remembering his honor even as he lay dying. The Monk recommends this story to Lucan, Suetonius, and Valerius, who wrote it fully, noting how Fortune was first a friend and then a foe to these two great conquerors.
The Monk then tells the tragedy of Croesus, the rich king of Lyde, who was caught in his pride and led to be burned, but a rain from the sky quenched the fire and let him escape. He did not learn to be wary from this, until Fortune made him gape on the gallows. After escaping, he began a new war, believing the rain meant he could not be slain. He dreamed he sat on a tree where Jupiter washed him and Phoebus dried him with a towel, and he asked his daughter, skilled in science, to interpret it. She said the tree means the gallows, Jupiter means snow and rain, and Phoebus with his towel means the sun’s beams, so he shall be hanged. His daughter, Phanye, warned him plainly, but Croesus was hanged anyway. The Monk concludes that tragedy is nothing other than Fortune assailing proud realms with an unguarded stroke, failing those who trust her and covering her bright face with a cloud.
The Prologue of the Nonne Preestes Tale
The Knight interrupts the Monk, saying enough of heaviness, for it is a disease to hear of sudden falls from wealth, while joy is hearing of a man climbing from poverty to prosperity. The Host agrees, saying the Monk’s tale annoys the company and is not worth a butterfly. He asks the Monk to tell something else, but the Monk declines. The Host then bids the Nonnes Preest, Sir John, to tell a merry tale.
The Nonne Preestes Tale
A poor widow, somewhat advanced in age, lives in a small cottage with three sows, three cows, and a sheep named Malle. Her diet is simple, and she is healthy. She has a yard with a cock named Chauntecleer, whose crowing is more reliable than a clock, and he is beautifully colored. He has seven hens, his sisters and paramours, the fairest being Pertelote. One day, Chauntecleer groans in his sleep, frightening Pertelote, and he tells her he dreamed of a beast like a hound, colored yellow and red with a black-tipped tail, that wanted to kill him. Pertelote scolds him for being a coward, saying dreams are vanity, engendered by repletion and humors like “rede colera,” and she recommends a laxative and lists herbs.
Chauntecleer defends dreams, citing the story of two pilgrims, one of whom dreamed his friend was murdered, and the dream came true, with the murder discovered in a dung-cart. He also cites the story of two men waiting to sail, one of whom dreamed he would be drowned, but the other sailed and was drowned. He cites Saint Kenelm, Macrobeus, Daniel, Joseph, Pharaoh, Croesus, and Andromacha (Ector’s wife) as evidence that dreams are to be feared. He then flatters Pertelote, saying her beauty makes him defy dreams, and he flies down to the yard. A col-fox, full of sly iniquity, has been hiding in the yard, and he flatters Chauntecleer, praising his singing and claiming his father was a great singer. He tricks Chauntecleer into closing his eyes and stretching his neck to sing, then seizes him by the throat and carries him off.
The widow and her daughters, along with men, dogs (Colle, Talbot, Gerland), and Malkin with a distaff, chase the fox, making a great noise. Chauntecleer tells the fox to turn and taunt the pursuers, and when the fox opens his mouth to speak, Chauntecleer escapes and flies into a tree. The fox tries to lure him down, but Chauntecleer refuses, saying he will not be tricked again. The fox laments that he who jangles when he should hold his peace is undiscreet. The narrator draws a moral: beware of recklessness and flattery, and take the “fruyt” of the tale.
Epilogue to the Nonne Preestes Tale
The Host praises the priest’s tale and jokes that if he were secular, he would be a great “trede-foul” (stud-bird), needing more than seven times seventeen hens, given his large neck and breast.
The Conclusion of the Somnour’s Tale
The lord, lady, and all present except the friar agree that Iankin spoke as well as Euclide or Ptholomee; they say the churl’s subtlety and high wit, not folly or demonic possession, made him speak so. Iankin has won a new gown, and the tale ends as they approach the town.
The Clerk’s Prologue
The Host chides the Clerk of Oxenford for riding as coyly as a newly married maiden and for his silence, urging him to tell a merry tale, not preach like friars in Lent, and to speak plainly. The Clerk agrees, saying he learned his tale at Padowe from Fraunceys Petrark, the laureate poet, whose sweet rhetoric illuminated all Itaille, as Linian did philosophy or law; both are now dead. The Clerk notes Petrark wrote a proheme describing Pemond, Saluces, the Apennyn hills, West Lumbardye, and Mount Vesulus, where the Poo springs and flows eastward to Emelward, Ferrare, and Venyse, though the Clerk deems this impertinent.
The Clerk’s Tale
At the west side of Itaille, at the root of Vesulus, lies Saluces, a noble country. A marquis named Walter, gentlest born of Lumbardye, lives in delight but refuses to wed. His people petition him through a wise spokesman, urging marriage. Walter agrees but insists on choosing his own wife, demanding they swear to honor her. He sets a wedding day. Nearby lives Ianicula, poorest of a throp, with a daughter Grisildis, virtuous and hardworking. Walter, observing her, decides to wed her. On the wedding day, he goes to her house, asks her father for her hand, and extracts from Grisildis a promise of absolute obedience. He marries her, and she proves so virtuous that her fame spreads. She bears a daughter, then a son. Walter, needing to test her, has a sergeant take both children, pretending to kill them, but secretly sends them to Boloigne to his sister, the countesse of Panik. After four years, he tests her again with the son. He then forges papal bulls to divorce her, publicly claims a new wife is coming, and sends Grisildis back to her father.
The Prayer to the Virgin and the Interpretation of the Name of Cecilie
The passage opens with a prayer to the Virgin Mary, praising her for helping not only those who pray to her but also, often, going before they ask, acting as their life’s physician. The speaker, a “flemed wrecche” in a “desert of galle,” asks her to think of the woman of Canaan (Cananee) who said that whelps eat the crumbs falling from their lord’s table. Though he is a sinful “unworthy sone of Eve,” he asks her to accept his belief. Since faith without works is dead, he asks for wit and space to work, to be quit from the darkest place. He calls her his advocate in that high place where “Osanne” is sung endlessly, addressing her as Christ’s mother and daughter of Anne. He asks her light to lighten his soul in prison, troubled by the contagion of his body and the weight of earthly lust and false affection, calling her “haven of refut” and “salvacioun” for those in sorrow and distress, and asks her help as he dresses himself for his work.
He then prays to those who read what he writes to forgive him for not doing diligence to endite this story subtly, for he has both the words and sentence of him who wrote the story at the saints’ reverence, and follows their legend, asking them to amend his work. The passage then presents an “Interpretado nominis Cecilie” (interpretation of the name of Cecilia) as placed by frater Iacobus Ianuensis in the Legenda Aurea. First, the name of Saint Cecilie is expounded: it means in English “hevenes lilie” (heaven’s lily), for pure chastness of virginity; or because she had whitnesse of honestee, grene of conscience, and the sole savour of good fame, “lilie” was her name. Or Cecile means “the wey to blinde” (the way to blind), for she was an example by good teaching. Or else Cecile, as the writer finds, is joined by a manner of conjoining of “hevene” and “Lia”; here, in figuring, “heven” is set for thought of holiness, and “Lia” for her lasting business. Cecile may also be said in this manner: “Wanting of blindnesse,” for her great light of sapience and her clear virtues. Or else this maiden’s bright name comes of “hevene” and “leos,” for which by right men might call her “the heven of peple” (heaven of people), an example of good and wise works all. For “leos” means “peple” in English, and just as men may see in heaven the sun and moon and stars every way, so men ghostly, in this free maiden, saw of faith the magnanimitee, and the whole clearness of sapience, and sundry works bright of excellence. And just as philosophers write that heaven is swift and round and burning, so was fair Cecilie the white full swift and busy ever in good working, and round and whole in good persevering, and burning ever in charity full bright; now has he declared what she highte.
The Seconde Nonnes Tale: The Life of Saint Cecilie
This bright maiden Cecilie, as her life says, was come of Romayns and of noble kinde, and from her cradle fostered in the faith of Christ, and bore his gospel in her mind; she never ceased, as the writer finds, of her prayer, and to love and dread God, beseeching him to keep her maidenhood. When this maiden was to be wedded to a man full young of age, called Valerian, and the day of her marriage came, she, devout and humble in her courage, under her robe of gold had next her flesh clad in an heyre (hair shirt). While the organs made melodye, she sang to God alone in her heart: “O lord, my soule and eek my body gye unwemmed, lest that I confounded be”; and for his love that died upon a tree, she fasted every second or third day, always bidding in her orisons. The night came, and she had to go to bed with her husband, as is the manner, and privily she said to him: “O swete and wel biloved spouse dere, ther is a conseil, and ye wolde it here, which that right fain I wolde unto yow seye, so that ye swere ye shul me nat biwreye.” Valerian gan faste unto hir swere that for no case nor thing that might be, he should nevermore biwreyen her; and then at erst she said to him: “I have an angel which that loveth me, that with greet love, wher-so I wake or slepe, is redy ay my body for to kepe.
Main Arguments
The Canterbury Tales does not advance a single, monolithic argument, but rather presents a plurality of perspectives and voices. Through the interplay of the tales and the reactions of the pilgrims, the work makes a number of claims about human nature, society, and the art of storytelling itself.
One of the work’s central arguments is that human experience is diverse and cannot be reduced to a single moral or social code. The juxtaposition of the Knight’s noble romance with the Miller’s bawdy fabliau, for instance, demonstrates the vast range of human behavior and literary taste. The Miller’s Tale, with its crude humor and focus on bodily functions, directly challenges the idealized world of the Knight’s Tale. The work suggests that both high and low, sacred and profane, are part of the fabric of human life and are worthy of representation.
Another argument concerns the relationship between authority and experience. The Wife of Bath, in her lengthy prologue, makes a powerful case for the authority of personal experience over the authority of written texts, particularly in matters of marriage and the relations between the sexes. She cites her own five husbands as evidence against the clerical writings that denigrate women. The Clerk’s Tale, on the other hand, presents a story of absolute obedience and patience, which can be read as an argument for a more traditional, hierarchical view of marriage, though the Clerk’s own ironic commentary complicates this reading. The work thus stages a debate about the sources of truth and wisdom.
The work also argues for the moral and didactic purpose of storytelling, even when the stories are entertaining or bawdy. The Nun’s Priest’s Tale, for example, is a comic beast fable, but it concludes with an explicit moral about the dangers of flattery and heedlessness. The Pardoner’s Tale, despite being told by a thoroughly corrupt and hypocritical figure, is a powerful sermon against avarice. The Parson’s Tale, which concludes the collection, is a direct and serious attempt to provide moral and spiritual guidance. The work suggests that stories can instruct as well as delight, and that even the most seemingly frivolous narrative can contain a kernel of wisdom.
Finally, the work makes a claim about the nature of language and interpretation. The narrator of the Miller’s Tale apologizes for having to repeat the “cherles tale” (churl’s tale), and advises those who are offended to “turn the page and choose another story.” This moment highlights the work’s awareness of its own status as a text that can be read selectively and interpreted in different ways. The tales are not presented as having a single, fixed meaning, but rather as material for the reader’s own judgment and response.
Key Concepts
Several specific, named ideas and motifs recur throughout The Canterbury Tales and are central to its meaning.
Fortune is a dominant concept, particularly in the Knight’s Tale and the Monk’s Tale. The Knight’s Tale is framed by the workings of Fortune, which raises Palamon and Arcite up and casts them down, and the Monk’s Tale is a series of exempla illustrating the fickleness of Fortune, who “assails proud realms with an unguarded stroke” and “fails those who trust her.” The Monk defines tragedy as the story of a person who falls from high estate into misery through the turn of Fortune’s wheel. This concept is tied to a Boethian worldview, in which earthly prosperity is seen as unstable and ultimately subject to a higher, divine providence.
Love is another key concept, explored in its many forms. The Knight’s Tale presents a courtly love rivalry between Palamon and Arcite for the hand of Emily, a love that is idealized and ennobling but also a source of great suffering and conflict. The Miller’s Tale offers a bawdy, physical parody of this courtly love, where desire is pursued through trickery and deception. The Wife of Bath’s Prologue and Tale explore love and marriage from a pragmatic and experienced perspective, arguing for female sovereignty in love. The concept of love is thus shown to be multifaceted, encompassing everything from spiritual devotion to carnal lust.
The idea of the “tragedy” is explicitly defined and illustrated in the Monk’s Tale. The Monk presents a series of brief narratives about famous figures from history and legend—including Lucifer, Adam, Samson, Hercules, Nebuchadnezzar, Belshazzar, Julius Caesar, and Croesus—who all experienced a dramatic fall from prosperity to misery. The Monk’s definition of tragedy as a story of a sudden fall, often brought about by Fortune, is a key concept that shapes the structure and meaning of his entire tale.
Dreams and their interpretation are a central motif in the Nun’s Priest’s Tale. Chauntecleer, the rooster, has a terrifying dream that he interprets as a warning of danger, while his wife Pertelote dismisses it as a product of indigestion and humoral imbalance. Chauntecleer cites numerous authorities and examples to prove that dreams can be prophetic, and the tale ultimately confirms his interpretation when he is seized by the fox. The tale thus engages with the medieval debate about the nature and significance of dreams.
The concept of “maistrie” (mastery or sovereignty) is particularly associated with the Wife of Bath and the Clerk’s Tale. The Wife of Bath’s Tale is famously concerned with what women most desire, which she answers as “sovereignty” over their husbands. The Clerk’s Tale of Griselda, on the other hand, presents a wife who submits absolutely to her husband’s will, though the Clerk’s own commentary suggests a more complex reading. The tension between these two views of marital power is a key concept running through the work.
The motif of the “pilgrimage” itself is a foundational concept. The journey to Canterbury provides the frame for the entire collection, and it serves as a metaphor for the journey of human life toward a spiritual goal. However, the pilgrims are a decidedly worldly group, and their tales often focus on secular concerns. The tension between the sacred purpose of the pilgrimage and the profane nature of much of the storytelling is a key concept that gives the work much of its richness and irony.
Themes
The deeper, recurring meanings of The Canterbury Tales emerge from the interplay of its many voices and stories. These themes are interpretive readings grounded in the text, rather than explicit statements of purpose.
A central theme is the contrast between idealism and realism. The Knight’s Tale presents an idealized world of chivalry, courtly love, and classical heroism, where characters speak in elevated rhetoric and events are governed by cosmic forces. The Miller’s Tale, which immediately follows, shatters this ideal with its earthy, realistic depiction of a jealous carpenter, a clever clerk, and a lustful young wife. The work repeatedly sets the high against the low, the spiritual against the carnal, and the noble against the base, suggesting that both are essential parts of the human condition. This theme is also evident in the contrast between the Parson’s Tale, a serious work of religious instruction, and the many bawdy and comic tales that precede it.
Another significant theme is the critique of hypocrisy and corruption, particularly within the Church. Several of the religious figures among the pilgrims are portrayed as worldly and corrupt. The Monk is more interested in hunting than in his religious duties; the Friar is a “limitour” who uses his position to extract money from people; the Pardoner sells fake relics and indulgences for profit. The tales these figures tell, and the prologues in which they reveal their own characters, offer a sharp satire on the abuses of the medieval Church. The Parson, however, is presented as a truly virtuous and holy man, providing a positive contrast to his corrupt brethren.
The theme of the instability of earthly life is pervasive. The Monk’s Tale is a litany of the falls of great men, illustrating the power of Fortune to overturn the mighty. The Knight’s Tale also demonstrates this theme, as the fortunes of Palamon and Arcite rise and fall dramatically. Even the comic Nun’s Priest’s Tale contains a warning about the sudden reversal of fortune, as the proud Chauntecleer is snatched up by the fox. The work repeatedly suggests that worldly prosperity and happiness are fleeting and unreliable.
A related theme is the power and danger of language and storytelling. The tales themselves are performances, and the pilgrims use them to entertain, to instruct, to boast, to settle scores, and to reveal their own characters. The Pardoner, for example, is a master rhetorician who uses his storytelling skills to deceive and defraud his audience. The Nun’s Priest’s Tale is a self-conscious meditation on the art of storytelling, parodying the styles of epic and tragedy. The work as a whole celebrates the creative power of language while also warning of its potential for manipulation and deceit.
Finally, the theme of the relationship between men and women is explored in depth, particularly in the tales of the Wife of Bath and the Clerk. The Wife of Bath champions female sovereignty and the joys of marriage, while the Clerk’s Tale of Griselda presents an extreme example of female patience and submission. The Franklin’s Tale, which follows the Clerk’s, offers a more balanced view, suggesting that marriage should be based on mutual trust and forbearance. These tales, taken together, constitute a complex and multi-faceted debate about gender roles, power, and love.
The Author’s Conclusions
The Canterbury Tales does not end with a grand synthesis or a final statement of its themes. Instead, it concludes with the Parson’s Tale, a lengthy prose sermon on the subject of penitence. The Parson, who has been presented as the most virtuous of the pilgrims, refuses to tell a fable or a romance, and instead offers a serious treatise on the sacrament of confession, the nature of sin, and the path to salvation. This tale serves as a kind of moral capstone to the collection, turning the pilgrims’ attention from worldly entertainment to spiritual matters.
The Parson’s Tale is followed by a brief section known as Chaucer’s Retraction. In this passage, the narrator, speaking in his own voice, asks forgiveness for his “translacions and enditynges of worldly vanitees,” which he lists, including The Canterbury Tales and many of his other works. He thanks God for his more pious writings, such as his translations of the Psalms and the homilies. This retraction is a serious and conventional medieval gesture, in which the author renounces his secular works in favor of his religious ones. It suggests a final, sobering conclusion to the collection, in which the author, having created a world of immense variety and vitality, ultimately turns away from it in favor of a more spiritual perspective.
The work thus ends not with a resolution of its many debates and tensions, but with a pointed reminder of the ultimate importance of spiritual salvation. The Host’s plan for the story-telling contest is never completed, and the pilgrims never reach Canterbury within the text. The final impression is one of incompleteness and open-endedness, but also of a clear moral direction. The Parson’s Tale and the Retraction provide a conclusion that is both a fitting end to the pilgrimage and a final statement of the author’s own religious convictions. The journey, both literal and figurative, is left unfinished, but the reader is left with a clear sense of the destination toward which all human life is ultimately directed.
