by Katherine Pakradouni
Chaucer begins his “General Prologue” to The Canterbury Tales by providing brief, descriptive portraits of each of the pilgrims before they set out on their pilgrimage. While there appears to be no rhyme or reason to the seemingly haphazard amalgam of personalities Chaucer includes in his prologue, the pilgrims’ portraits say something significant about them as individuals and as they related to medieval society. Both the Prioress and the Monk, for example, are ironically ill-suited to their holy professions. They are not necessarily bad individuals, but, put within their professional contexts, it is easy to see that Chaucer intended them to be objects of criticism and satire. Using cunning sarcasm, subtle shifts in tone, and vivid details, Chaucer exposes the Prioress and the Monk for the worldly, hypocritical, and self-serving individuals that they really are.
The worldliness of the Prioress and the Monk is evident immediately in their portraits. The Prioress’ portrait opens up with descriptions of how she is so modest and coy, speaks French fluently, and has such refined table manners (119-130). These details seem more fitting for a noblewoman than a nun. Nuns are not supposed to be concerned with how they look while they are eating, or in pains to imitate the behavior of courtly cheer (139-140). Yet the narrator’s amorous tone when describing the Prioress’ physical appearance in lines 152 to 157, as well as the mention of the inscription “Amor vincit omnia” on the Prioress’ brooch (162), suggests that Chaucer thinks she would be more suited for courtly romance than godly love. Yet the Prioress is not the only one who seems unfit for her religious role. The Monk is first introduced in the General Prologue as “an outridere that loved venerye” (166). He is a hunter and an outdoorsman. Focused only on earthly things, he spares no cost for his appearance. The sleeves of his coat are lined with the finest fur of the land, and his boots are soft (193-194, 203). Taking great care to look good and be comfortable, it is evident that this monk would not be one to wear a hair-shirt or take a vow of poverty, as was custom for monks at that time. Thus, choosing worldliness over holiness, and self-involvement over God, he as well as the nun violate the very codes of the religious order they supposedly represent.
Yet
worldliness is not the only thing making these hypocritical figures unholy.
The Prioress is cold and unconcerned for the welfare of people, despite
the fact that she is supposed to care for the needy.
Illustrating this, the Prioress is sarcastically described as being “so
charitable and so pitous” that she would weep if she saw a mouse caught in a
trap. Plus, she would feed roasted
flesh, fine white bread, and milk to her dogs (143-147).
This may not sound bad to the animal-friendly, modern reader, but
considering that the Prioress is a nun from the Middle Ages, her preference for
animals over people is anything but charitable.
She is just like the wealthy Americans who sent jets and airplanes to
rescue stranded animals in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina hit, but totally
ignored the thousands of people who also needed help.
Loving animals and humans is
one thing, but there was not a single reference to the Prioress helping people
throughout her entire portrait, and that is exactly what a nun, or any
compassionate person, is supposed to do. Clearly
she is wealthy enough to afford fine foods for her dogs.
Why not extend that wealth to feed hungry humans?
The possibilities are endless, but her focus is entirely self-involved.
Her
hands-off approach to serving God is only surpassed, however, by the Monk’s
utterly direct rejection of religious life.
The Monk hypocritically calls himself a monk, but completely disregards
all aspects of a monk’s life. For
example, he doesn’t believe in being cloistered, and he disagrees with the
statement that hunters are not holy men (188-189).
Sarcastic in tone, Chaucer’s narrator agrees with him and further
ponders the question as to why a monk should have to be cloistered and study
until he is crazy. Then he asks why
a monk should have to toil with his hands and work as St. Augustine bids (184-187). Clearly,
these questions are just as reasonable as asking why a blacksmith should have to
work with metal all day in his workshop, or a veterinarian work with animals?
The answers to these questions are so obvious that it only emphasizes how
ridiculous it is for the Monk to behave the way he does.
Being cloistered, studying, working, and serving are requirements of the
job. The Monk, however, is so
self-serving that he cannot possibly imagine a life without his horse, his
hunting gear, and his greyhounds, much less a life indoors, serving God.
His behaviors are so contrary to the values of religious life that it is
hard to imagine why a person like the Monk would even choose to remain a monk,
or the Prioress a prioress, for that matter. Thus,
using telling details and biting sarcasm, Chaucer reveals both the Prioress’
and the Monk’s unfitness for holy life. However,
Chaucer did not intend for the Prioress’ and Monks’ portraits to be
criticisms of Christian religion as a whole.
Not all people who work within the Christian framework are worldly,
hypocritical, or self-serving. But
the portraits of the Prioress and Monk do serve as criticisms of individuals
who behave contrary to the religious order they represent.
This theme is present even today. It
is the reason why there are so many jokes about Catholic priests doing
not-so-priestly things behind closed doors.
Perhaps Chaucer wished to expose a universal truth about the hypocrisy of
people to which even a modern reader could relate.
People are not always what they seem to be, what they say they are, or
what they should be. If they were,
they would not be nearly as fun to read about.