Cliges and the voice of the narrator

Having finished Cligés this evening, I am not sure how I feel about this tale of Chretien’s. The writer spends an inordinate amount of time in the personal reflections first of the parents, Alexander and Soredamors, then of the son and his love. I do not believe that either Cligés or Fenice are honorable. I am wondering about the purpose that Chretien really had in writing these Arthurian Romances as clearly the protagonists, Arthur’s foreign as well as homebred knights were not really as gentle or courtly as we had been led to believe. I have not read any of the e-reserves for this week as yet, and am trying to reach my own conclusions before turning to others. Were these tales a social commentary as we read in one of the readings a week or so ago that the people at court were trying to model themselves on Arthur’s court. Perhaps Chretien was moralizing, especially as he ends this tale with a judgment on the future empresses of Constantinople.
In this tale we see a more blood thirsty and exacting Arthur who is betrayed not by his half brother but by a trusted knight. However, here too he takes council with his knights as we have seen before but it comes across not so much as democracy but as not wanting to bear the responsibility should something go wrong (as it did.) It is also interesting that Arthur did not approve of endless days spent in tournaments and used his royal powers to call a halt to the skirmishes after Cligés and Gawain have battled it out.
For those of us interested in gruesome details, in this story, they are frequently decapitated and though they let out their spirit with their blood, they do not vomit out their lives. I do not remember Arthur being so “hard” against his enemies as he is in this tale, nor for that matter, the queen so good. Another factor is that neither king nor queen seem to be a day older even though fifteen or sixteen years have passed.
By the way, I don’t know if anyone else feels this way but to me the voice of the story teller is different from the narrative voice I heard last week.

More Strong Women in Cliges

Chretien’s description of the love between Alexander and Soredamors in Cliges implies a surprising level of equality between the couple. Lenny pointed out in his post how powerful Guinevere was in this romance compared to the other ones we’ve read, and I think that there is also far more importance given to the feelings, desires, and agency of Soredamors and Fenice than to the heroines of the other stories.

When Soredamors and Alexander first set eyes on each other and fall in love, Chretien writes that “Love gave them equal portions of what he owed them,” and the queen “saw the two of them frequently flush and grow pale, sigh and tremble” (129). Both their feelings and their reactions to them are described as the same, in contrast to the very different feelings of Yvain and Laudine, or the very different actions of Erec, who is free to act on his feelings and Enide, who is not. Unlike Yvain and Erec, Alexander does not dare ask the king for Soredamors hand, even though he is sure it will be granted to him, because he does not want to offend her or marry her against her wishes (149).

Later in the romance, once the story has moved onto Cliges and Fenice, Chretien explains to us why two hearts cannot live in the same body. He writes that the couple who love each other “each desire the same thing and…have this common desire” (157). Again, this is different than the couples in the two earlier romances, where we can clearly see that the lovers wanted different things: Yvain wanted Laudine, while she wanted to protect her stone and spring; Erec wanted to win the sparrow-hawk and marry Enide, and we don’t really know what she wanted (but it doesn’t seem to matter). Fenice, on the other hand, is very clear about what she wants: she loves Cliges and wants to be with him, and she refuses to sleep with her husband while she is in loves with another man. She tells he nurse Thessala, “I could never agree to lead the life Isolde led…my body will never be prostituted, nor will it ever be shared” (161).

I’m curious about why women are portrayed so differently in this romance than in the others we’ve read. Whatever the reason, though, I thought it made for great reading.

The fact that courtly love one of the major themes in Chrétiens stories, I found that his treatment of love, marriage, faithfulness, and morality are complex and thought provoking. He seems to fool his audience about what is evident at a first glance and what requires more consideration. If it is true that he seems to reward the lovers whose love flows from the heart, still he never lets these relationships flow naturally. There is lying, killing, and cheating. But even more, there is the use of something that, though not mentioned explicitly, is hinted as sinful. Thessala’s knowledge of necromancy and magic potions had never been confessed until the young woman was desperate. A moment as this is the perfect opportunity for what is understood as evil in its source to permeate the young woman’s decisions. However, this decision will not be without consequences as she will be beaten and burnt with melted lead. But evil only brings on evil as the three doctors are thrown out to the yard getting all their bones broken (Who knows what the rest of their story might be. Did they live at all?) At the same time Ali, in defense of his marriage and dignity, becomes harshly ridiculed and punished. Agreeing to what is forbidden, as is the use of magic and potions, brings terrible consequences to all those involved.

In these stories of courtly love that arose as a means by which the true feelings of lovers who were married off by convenience could be expressed. C.S. Lewis defines in The Allegory of Love courtly love is a "love of a highly specialized sort, whose characteristics may be enumerated as Humility, Courtesy, Adultery, and the Religion of Love" (2). When reading Chrétien tales, the concepts of love and marriage seem to be questioned. They seem to be the means of escape for a love in a complex system of power, politics and marriage.

Though Chrétien does acknowledge certain values of the time: appearance and form among them, still, he puts forth the problem of all the damage that is caused on both sides when marriage is forced through political agreements and true affections must be subdued for this supposedly greater cause. Adulterers are spared. Love seems to win always. However, he doesn’t leave the field immaculately clean. Every single character involved in these twisted agreements and relationships is touched (or beaten) by physical pain, ridicule, suffering and despair.

Even the concepts of right and wrong are complicated. In Cligés only Alexander and Soredamors are free from the complications of arranged marriage, as they are both in love and a good match politically speaking. In the face of a political conflict that only naturally could have arisen with Alis, their happy love and political reign is severely troubled. Though they reach an agreement, one can only wonder how it is possible that Alis can be forced into renouncing love and living in celibacy as a political agreement. Ali is depicted as absolutely incapable of carrying out any political leadership; however, as Joseph Duggan says, “the reader may find it difficult to condemn Alis’s actions” (111). Values as true love and freedom are subjugated by political agreements and appearances.

At the same time, it is also natural that those who are truly in love should be together and fulfill their love. Cligés and Fenice fall in disgrace because of their seclusion, and though they are “redeemed” by Ali’s death and their eventual marriage, their acts have consequences on future marriages within nobility. By writing such an ending to the story Chrétien can only make his audience uncomfortable. He forces them to ponder how love and marriage have been unnaturally divided causing harm to those directly implied as to those that have by chance had some relation to the situation itself as is the case of the three doctors and Bertrand whose leg is cut off for merely finding Cligés and Fenice naked in the garden by accident.

Guinevere's power in "Cligés"

In the first half of “Cligés,” Chrétien presents two distinct spheres of royal power—the political, as controlled by Arthur; and the private/amatory, as controlled by Guinevere. His equal depiction of these two spheres sets this tale apart from earlier Arthuriana (at least from what we’ve read) by showing both the limits of Arthur’s power, and the extent of his queen’s. Guinevere’s power, which is hinted at in “Erec and Enide,” is made explicit in “Cligés” during the scene in which she confronts Soredamors and Alexander about their love. This scene acknowledges both the queen’s power over Soredamors’ body, as well as the queen’s unique ability to hasten the union of the two lovers:

The queen embraced them both and gave them to one another.

Cheerfully she said: ‘To you, Alexander, I entrust your sweetheart’s body, for I know that you already have her heart. No matter whether others like it or not, I give you to one another. Now, Soredamors, receive what is yours; and you, Alexander, receive your lady.’ Thus she had what was hers, and he what was his; she was his entirely, and he entirely hers. (151)

Guinevere, as the empowered agent of Love, contrasts sharply from her depiction as passive queen in “Erec and Enide,” and from her near non-existence in Geoffrey of Monmouth’s tale. In “Cligés,” she acts to shape her immediate social environment and thus maps out a direction for the Arthurian court. While Guinevere’s actions might be more subtle than land grabs or chopping heads off traitorous barons, they provide more happiness and substance for these characters than do the seemingly endless material possessions of Arthur. After Guinevere unites Alexander and Soredamors, Chrétien writes:

On that one day at Windsor, Alexander experienced all the honour and happiness he could want. His honours and joys were threefold: one was in capturing the castle; another was the reward promised him by King Arthur for having ended the hostilities: the finest kingdom in Wales, of which he was made king that day in Arthur’s halls; but the greatest joy was the third: that his sweetheart was queen of the chess-board where he was king. (ibid.)

Chrétien’s revelation of this private/amatory sphere of power introduces new complications to the Arthurian legend. We begin to see Guinevere as a person invested with a great power of her own who will at times even challenge the king (like hiding the prisoners on page 139); and we see Arthur’s power as extending only to particular aspects of his kingdom. These developments further elaborate upon Arthurian divisions between “armes” and “amors,” and the gendered spheres of public and private politics, which Tara and Amanda, respectively, pointed to in earlier posts.

How does the introduction of this private/amatory sphere of power change our conception of the Arthurian tradition? Does it make Arthur more human and less god-like? Does it provide us with a more satisfactory picture of Guinevere? What could have motivated Chrétien to include this?

Detours of DeTroyes

I've been thinking about detours -- Merriam-webster.com defines a detour as a "deviation from a direct course or the usual procedure" -- and how they're pivotal to the plot of Chretien's romances. In Erec and Enide, Erec takes a detour by leaving the traditional stag hunt in order to avenge the queen's damsel. As a result, the entire ritual of the stag hunt is put on hold until Erec triumphs over Yder and wins Enide's hand in marriage. Erec detours from convention again when he decides to travel *alone* through the countryside with only his wife. Arthur urges Erec against this, but he cannot be persuaded to take more men or more riches. For along this trip there is no set course; Erec doesn't know where he's going, only that he's "open to adventure" (71). While traveling, Erec and Enide are lured off their undetermined path by a series of events and characters. It seems there is always a threat, a mystery, or a damsel in distress that needs to be tended to, hence complicating the plot and leading the reader off course as well.

Towards the end of Erec's rambling adventure with Enide, he becomes more determined to stick to a defined course. He relays to Cadoc and his lady that he must "continue on [his] way" (92), for he has "tarried too long" (93).

So, then, what does Chretein de Troyes mean when he later breaks the narrative and writes:

But why should I relate to you in detail the embroidery of the silken tapestries that decorated the chamber? I would foolishly waste my time, and I do not wish to waste it; rather I wish to hurry a bit, for the man who goes quickly by the direct road passes the man who strays from the path. Therefore I do not wish to tarry. When the time and the hour came the king ordered the evening meal to be prepared. I don't wish to linger here, if I can find a more direct route (105).

Can we hold him at his word when ironically he does linger, like Erec, at so many scenes? He turns around to add a little detail about the meal, and just a couple of pages later he can't resist taking a detour to describe the "nearby garden" (107), explaining that "it is not proper to pass on, though the tongue may be worn and weary, without telling you the truth about the garden according to the story" (107).

Our narrator parallels our protagonist when at times they both fluctuate between conflicting ideals. Both Erec and Chretien try to stay on target, moving as swiftly as possible, but occasionally get derailed in the name of chivalry, truth, or courtly manners.

Chivalry & Related Definitions

Just thought I would post a handout of Courtly terms defined by a former professor of mine. It came in useful when trying to frame CdT courtly knights in the grand scheme of courtly behavior as we now know it.

Enjoy!

CHIVALRY: An idealized code of military and social behavior for the aristocracy in the late medieval period. The word "chivalry" comes from Old French cheval (horse), and chivalry literally means "horsemanship." Normally, only rich nobility could afford the expensive armor, weaponry, and warhorses necessary for mounted combat, so the act of becoming a knight was symbolically indicated by giving the knight silver spurs. The right to knighthood in the late medieval period was inherited through the father, but it could also be granted by the king or a lord as a reward for services. The tenets of chivalry attempted to civilize the brutal activity of warfare. The chivalric ideals involve sparing non-combatants such as women, children, and helpless prisoners; the protection of the church; honesty in word and bravery in deeds; loyalty to one's liege; dignified behavior; and single-combat between noble opponents who had a quarrel. Other matters associated with chivalry include gentlemanly contests in arms supervised by witnesses and heralds, behaving according to the manners of polite society, courtly love, brotherhood in arms, and feudalism.

KNIGHT: A military aristocrat in medieval Europe and England who swore service as a vassal to a liege lord in exchange for control over land. The term comes from the Old English word cniht, meaning young man or servant-boy. The process of becoming a knight was a long one, and small boys would begin their training as a page at court, serving food or drink to their elders, running messages and errands. They would be expected during this period to learn the niceties of polite society and respect for their elders. The next phase of training was serving as squire to another knight. The squire would be expected to polish and clean his knight's armor and weapons, care for and feed the horses, and wait upon his master during jousts or military service. He would also learn the finer points of fighting and riding. The final stage of knighthood was a semi-religious ceremony that varied in its details from one geographic area to another. In the late medieval period, the position of knight often became hereditary, and the title Sir, Ser, or Don was indicative of this rank. Associated with knighthood in the later Middle Ages were cultural phenomena such as feudalism, the cult of chivalry and courtly love.

ROMANCE, MEDIEVAL (also called a chivalric romance): In medieval use, romance referred to episodic French and German poetry dealing with chivalry and the adventures of knights in warfare as they rescue fair maidens and confront supernatural challenges. The medieval metrical romances resembled the earlier chansons de gestes and epics. However, unlike the Greek and Roman epics, medieval romances represent not a heroic age of tribal wars, but a courtly or chivalric period of history involving highly developed manners and civility, as M. H. Abrams notes. Their standard plot involves a single knight seeking to win a scornful lady's favor by undertaking a dangerous quest. Along the way, this knight encounters mysterious hermits, confronts evil blackguards and brigands, slays monsters and dragons, competes anonymously in tournaments, and suffers from wounds, starvation, deprivation, and exposure in the wilderness. He may incidentally save a few extra villages and pretty maidens along the way before finishing his primary task. (This is why scholars say romances are episodic--the plot can be stretched or contracted so the author can insert or remove any number of small, short adventures along the hero's way to the larger quest.)

Medieval romances often focus on the supernatural. In the classical epic, supernatural events originate in the will and actions of the gods. However, in secular medieval romance, the supernatural originates in magic, spells, enchantments, and fairy trickery. Divine miracles are less frequent, but are always Christian in origin when they do occur, involving relics and angelic visitations. A secondary concern is courtly love and the proprieties of aristocratic courtship--especially the consequnces of arranged marriage and adultery.

Scholars usually divide medieval romances into four loose categories based on subject-matter:

(1) "The Matter of Rome": stories based on the history and legends of Greco-Roman origin such as the Trojan war, Thebes, mythological figures, and the exploits of Alexander the Great. The medieval poet usually creates an anachronistic work by turning these figures into knights as he knew them.

(2) "The Matter of Britain": stories based on Celtic subject-matter, especially Camelot, King Arthur, and his knights of the round table, including material derived from the Celto-French Bretons and Breton lais.

(3) "The Matter of England": stories based on heroes like King Horn and Guy of Warwick.

(4) "The Matter of France": stories based on Charlemagne, Roland, and his knights.

A large number of such romances survive due to their enormous popularity, including the works of Chrétien de Troyes (c. 1190), Hartmann von Aue (c. 1203), Gottfried von Strassburg (c. 1210), and Wolfram von Eschenbach (c. 1210). England produced its own romances in the fourteenth century, including the Lay of Havelok the Dane and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. In 1485, Caxton printed the lengthy romance Le Morte D'Arthur, a prose work that constituted a grand synthesis of Arthurian legends.

COURTLY LOVE: The phrase "courtly love" is a modern scholarly term to refer to the idea espoused in medieval French as "Fin Amour." This phenomenon is a cultural trope in the late twelfth-century, or possibly a literary convention that captured popular imagination. Courtly love refers to a code of behavior that gave rise to modern ideas of chivalrous romance. The term itself was popularized by C. S. Lewis' and Gaston Paris' scholarly studies, but its historical existence remains contested in critical circles. The conventions of courtly love are that a knight of noble blood would adore and worship a young noble-woman from afar, seeking to protect her honor and win her favor by valorous deeds. He typically falls ill with love-sickness, while the woman chastely or scornfully rejects or refuses his advances in public, but privately encourages him. Courtly love was associated with (A) nobility, since no peasants can engage in "fine love"; (B) secrecy; (C) adultery, since often the one or both participants were married to another noble or trapped in an unloving marriage; and (D) paradoxically with chastity, since the passion could never be consummated due to social circumstances, thus it was a "higher love" unsullied by selfish carnal desires.

Source: Dr. Kip Wheeler http://web.cn.edu/kwheeler/index.html

Armes and amors

Near the end of "Yvain," in Chretien de Troyes' Arthurian Romances, in the Town of Dire Adventure, as Yvain struggles to make honorable excuses and extricate himself from a marriage to the lord's daughter, I realized one thing that makes "Yvain" and "Erec" different from most other Arthurian and knightly romances I've read. Both Erec and Yvain get married early in their tales, and this overshadows the rest of their adventures. Erec drags his wife (the literal ball-and-chain) around with him, and Yvain grieves about the loss of his lady's love until they're finally reunited.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm used to the stereotypical bachelor knight who rides around performing amazing feats in honor of a particular lady (a la Don Quixote and his Dulcinea del Toboso, to name one caricature). If there's a wedding, it takes place at the end of the story, as part of a happily ever after conclusion.

It is interesting, then, that in Erec and Yvain, Troyes crafts such lengthy tales about married knights. In the introduction to the Penguin edition, editors William W. Kibler and Carleton W. Carroll suggest that "Erec" "posed a question familiar to courtly circles: how can a knight, once married, sustain the valour and glory that first won him a bride? That is, can a knight serve both his honour (armes) and his love (amors)?" (7). This question can be asked of both "Erec" and "Yvain," as the editors do in the following excerpts from the introduction:

"Erec, caught up in marital bliss, neglects the pursuit of his glory until reminded of his duties by Enide, who has overheard some knights gossiping maliciously. Accompanied by her, he sets out on a series of adventures in the course of which both he and his bride are tested" (7).

In "Yvain," Troyes "reconsiders the question of the conflict between love and valour posed in 'Erec,' but from the opposite point of view: Yvain neglects his bride (amors) in the pursuit of glory (armes). Unlike Erec, who sets off for adventure accompanied by his bride, Yvain sets out alone upon his series of marvellous adventures in order to expiate his fault and rediscover himself" (9).

I would pose the question of what Troyes might be suggesting about marriage and honor, except that both stories end happily ever after — Erec and Enide are crowned king and queen, and Yvain is reconciled with his wife — so there is no conclusive judgment about which approach to marriage is better. Furthermore, the editors in their introduction appear to dismiss any intention by Troyes to convey a message or maxim, contending that "one must resist the temptation to seek an allegorical or symbolic interpretation ... Contrary to pure allegory, his symbolic mode is discontinuous and polyvalent: it does not function in a single predictable manner in each instance, and one interpretation does not necessarily preclude another" (19).

However, through examination of the events in each story and Troyes' treatment of characters (and their treatment of each other), can any interpretations be extrapolated about the nature of marriage and how a married knight can or should juggle armes and amors? Are multiple interpretations plausible? Are wives really that much of a hindrance to a knight's ability to embark on quests and earn honor through arms (it would seem not)? How do we deal with this question of arms and amors with two tales that treat the issue so differently?

One final question that plagued me after finishing "Yvain": Why, despite his struggle to honorably extricate himself from the proposed marriage to the lord's daughter in the Town of Dire Adventures, does Yvain never mention the fact that he's already married???

The universal Arthurian character/plot

After three weeks in Taiwan (and reading Geoffrey of Monmouth amidst typhoon-strewn logs on the Pacific shore beach), I couldn't resist hunting down Arthur-Asia links. My quest was futile, as the only things I could find were a link for King Arthur Industries, based in Taiwan, a book about the Orient — meaning Middle East — in early medieval romances, and Japanese anime.

So, I'll just have to forge my own connection.

While checking out link after link on Google, I found a site about the first recorded Japanese-Chinese relations (The Beginning of Recorded Relations with China). The content of the post did not interest me so much as one of the comments, which refers to Himiko, a female Japanese queen, as an Arthurian character. The commentator writes, "She is not necessarily mythic but grounded in just as much speculation and controversy as King Arthur."

It's interesting to see King Arthur used as a label to describe characters in other, completely different cultures' mythologies. It testifies to the power and predominance of the Arthurian legend and Western egocentrism — instead of saying Arthur is a Himiko-an figure (she predates Arthur by at least a hundred years, after all), we say every other mythical monarch is Arthurian, or every other knight-like figure who embarks on quests is Arthurian.

Now, as a Westerner, I'm going to arbitrarily slap the Arthurian adjective on another Asian cultural product: The Tale of Shuten Doji. Currently on exhibit at the Freer-Sackler Gallery and required viewing for members of Marcela Sulak's Poetry course, the Japanese artwork depicts a knight on a quest to defeat a giant ogre that's murdering young women. The knight, Raiko, lops off the ogre's head and brings it back in a basket.

Sound familiar at all?

A lot of the details differ, but the basic quest echoes Arthur's confrontation with the Monster of Mont-Saint-Michel in Geoffrey of Monmouth's The History of the Kings of Britain. Both knights set out on a quest to kill a tyrannical, lady-murdering giant and return with the giant's head.

Additionally, the Tale of Shuten Doji also incorporates elements common to Arthurian mythology: magic and the supernatural, and camaraderie among a band of knights that defers to a single knight's solitary encounter with the enemy. In both the Arthurian story and Shuten Doji, a group of knights embark on their quest together, but the predominant knight's companions hang back and let him do all the work.

It is interesting, indeed, that such similar mythologies sprang up at around the same time on opposite sides of the globe. Particularly legends rooted in truth, about historical figures. Some common element in human nature, perhaps, that drives us to produce and commemorate myths about heroic knights and quests?

After discussing Geoffrey's History of the Kings of Britain I think it's a good thing we don't set too much by his "history" of Arthur. Maybe Arthur was a real person, a real King, but we must remember Geoffrey was writing based on what he knew from the stories passed down about a great king named Arthur. While the Arthur in the history is a much more violent and condescending king than the Arthur of the stories we are used to reading and hearing Geoffrey was following in the tradition of great kings. I do not believe his audience (who exactly that was, as we know, is still debatable)would have taken to a King of Britain who was assisted by magic and the unknown comfortably but rather to a king who succeeded in dividing the enemy and uniting his people with valiant and courageous acts. Is it because his audience would have found it more palpable? We should remember the mysticism surrounding Arthur as well. As was pointed out in class Arthur's rule is defined by great deeds, wealth, and of course, the legends of the Knights of the Round Table. But his birth is mysterious, as is his death. I do hope we will continue to discuss the historic versus mythic Arthur. Since we now have three different conceptions of "Arthur" I believe it is important to remember these as we read further on the subject. I know my view of Arthur has changed after reading the History of the Kings of Britain. But I am not disappointed. Whether Arthur is judicious, arrogant, malevolent, even weak, his stories are still legend.