Who Are The Key Characters In The General Prologue?

The general prologue introduces a cast of characters that feel like they’ve walked straight out of history. The Knight is the ideal medieval warrior, while the Squire is his charming, less disciplined son. The Prioress is delicate and somewhat pretentious, contrasting sharply with the brash Wife of Bath. The Pardoner is a hypocrite who profits from others’ guilt, and the Miller is a rough, loudmouthed guy who loves a good story. Each one adds a unique flavor to the group, making the prologue a rich, engaging read.

Reading the general prologue feels like stepping into a bustling medieval inn. The Knight is the honorable warrior, weary from crusades but still dignified. His son, the Squire, is his polar opposite—a flashy, romantic young man who’s more interested in writing love songs than fighting. The Prioress is prim and proper, but her fussiness makes her almost comical. Then there’s the Wife of Bath, a force of nature who’s been around the block and isn’t afraid to say so. The Pardoner is the sketchiest of the bunch, peddling fake holy relics with a smile. Even the minor characters, like the plump, red-faced Franklin or the sneaky Reeve, leave an impression. Chaucer doesn’t just describe them; he lets their personalities shine through their actions and speech, making them unforgettable.

As someone who adores medieval literature, I find the general prologue of 'The Canterbury Tales' to be a vibrant tapestry of characters that mirror the diversity of 14th-century England. The Knight stands out as a paragon of chivalry, having fought in numerous battles with honor and humility. His son, the Squire, is his opposite—a youthful, passionate lover with a flair for poetry and music. The Prioress, with her delicate manners and affected French, presents a fascinating contrast to the earthy Wife of Bath, a bold, gap-toothed woman who’s been married five times and wears her experience like a badge of pride. Then there’s the Pardoner, a sinister figure who sells fake relics and preaches against greed while embodying it himself. Each character, from the virtuous Plowman to the corrupt Summoner, is painted with such vivid detail that they leap off the page, offering a snapshot of society that’s both satirical and deeply human.

Other memorable figures include the Merchant, with his forked beard and obsession with profit, and the Franklin, a jovial landowner who lives for pleasure. The Miller, with his bawdy tales and brute strength, and the Reeve, a thin, cunning manager, round out this colorful cast. Chaucer’s genius lies in how he balances satire with empathy, making even the most flawed characters feel real and relatable. The general prologue isn’t just a list of travelers—it’s a masterclass in character study, revealing the contradictions and complexities of human nature.

I’ve always been drawn to the way Chaucer’s general prologue introduces such a lively mix of characters, each with their own quirks and flaws. The Knight is the epitome of medieval nobility, but his son, the Squire, is all about courtly love and vanity. The Prioress tries too hard to seem refined, while the Monk cares more about hunting than his religious duties. Then there’s the Wife of Bath, a larger-than-life figure who dominates every conversation with her opinions on marriage and authority. The Pardoner is downright creepy, with his yellow hair and sleazy scams, while the Miller is a boisterous drunk who loves a crude joke. Even the lesser characters, like the Clerk, a starving scholar obsessed with books, or the Shipman, a rough-and-tumble sailor, add depth to the group. It’s like a medieval reality show—everyone’s got a story, and none of them are perfect.