Professor Wenthe told us last week that we would see a lot more on the importance of concealing and revealing names in Perceval, and I was definitely not disappointed. This romance is bursting at the seams with the idea of the importance and power of names and their relationship to identity. Knowing someone's name seems to signify knowing a lot more about them.
As readers, we don't know Perceval's name for as long as he doesn't know it: about 45 pages or 3500 lines. He is referred to as "the boy" or "the young knight" until he guesses and reveals his name: "And the youth, who did not know his name, guessed and said he was called Perceval the Welshman. But although he did not know if that were true or not, he spoke the truth without knowing it." (What?! This is pretty wild.) Chretien doesn't explain how this happened, but his name seems like almost a password that allows him to find out more about himself. First, he finds out from his cousin that his mother has died, and later, from the priest in the woods about his family and his lineage. He did not have access to any of this information before he guessed his name.
When Gawain and Perceval meet and introduce themselves, I find it very telling that Gawain says "Sir, know truly that at my baptism I was named Gawain," indicating that there is a power to someone's true name, rather than a nickname or assumed name - it is a signifier of identity in a much more concrete way than we think of it now. Gawain later tells Tiebaut, "I have never hidden my name anywhere it was asked, but I've never given it unless I was first asked for it."
So it's clear that names hold some sort of power, but we're not really told what that power is. There seem to be both magical and practical reasons for concealing and revealing one's name in this romance. When Perceval confesses to the priest in the woods and learns a prayer that contains all the names of God, he is told not to say them out loud. The editor's note here tells us that these names were invoked for magical as well as religious purposes, so we can guess that saying their own names out loud may have held some sort of magical power for knights. The practical side to this withholding comes through in Gawain's telling the queen at the Castle of Marvels not to ask him name for seven days. He does not yet know that she is his mother (or his grandmother; I'm not sure which queen is speaking here), and this serves to conceal his identity until he knows and can reveal it in a way that he chooses. Unfortunately, we never get to see how this turns out.
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Usha- you stole my post! Ha-ha.
ReplyDeleteI think it is ridiculously fascinating that we don't learn Perceval's name, or the knight who trains him, or... anyone we encounter until they are forced to share names either by courtesy or due to a challenge. I am reminded (don't shun me) of the Harry Potter mantra, "fear in a name increases fear in the thing itself." I think there is something mystical in a name for Chretien because names are either concealed for inexplicable reasons (such as Gawain concealing his name from his own family) or revealed for dramatic effect (um, let me guess my name!). Isn't it odd though, that the knights generally choose to reveal their name when it would be least convienent or safe, such as when Gawain repeatedly tells those who hate him on principle who he is?
Is this a courtly construct or just part of the mystery of medieval life? If you travel outside of your own town your legend may proceed you, but not your face. The chance for reinvention is there, but not taken. Even when people reinvent themselves (the knight with the lion, the knight with the cart) they eventually revert back. Are they using their unknownness to inspire awe, or are their names simply tools for dramatic effect?
Hannah, I totally thought of Harry Potter too! And since you brought it up, I want to point out that Christopher Paolini also uses this idea in his recent Eragon series - knowing the true (Elvish, I believe) name of a person or thing gives you a great deal of power over that person or thing. Characters in those books generally don't reveal their true names because that knowledge can be used against them. I've heard that Paolini got this from Ursula LeGuin, who I, to my shame, haven't read yet. Still, it's interesting that this theme has been picked up by contemporary writers who seem to want to explain the basis for it (since Chretien really doesn't).
ReplyDeleteBy naming someone, it is said that you make this person/being present. It is well-known that one must never name the "unnameable", that is, the personification of evil or the devil, because by doing this you make him present. That is not only a Medieval belief, but a common belief today (obviously among those who believe he exists).
ReplyDeleteNaming certainly seems to be the unveiling of the truth about a character. Even in The Quest, we see naïve Percival delighted at the man and woman's knowledge of his name when he is stranded on the island. By not revealing her name, the woman/demon remains in power because Perceval remains ignorant. In exorcism, the exorcist many times (if not all) demands the demons name, in order to cast him out.
That's how powerful a name is.
A name also gives us part of our identity. Even after Perceval learns his name he remain woefully naive and ignorant is many aspects of life. Yet now his good and knightly deeds can be attributed to him and not some unnamed simpleton. However a name can define someone in a good way, it sometimes is not such a nice thing (it make think of Harry Potter too!). I am reminded of Gawain, the greatest Knight of the Round table at this point being denied by the maiden after she finds out his name. Perceval embraces his name and thereby embraces his identity, whereas Gawain in that moment wish to be shot of his name so that he can still be the mysterious and righteous Knight.
ReplyDeleteThe power of names in Mediterranean and Western culture, at least, goes way back beyond Rowling and Paolini! Think of Odysseus concealing his name as "Nobody" (Greek "Outis") when he confronts Polyphemus, and think of the angel that Jacob bests in wrestling, who refuses to reveal his name when Jacob demands it (yet goes on to change Jacob's name--shades of our knights and the profound effects on their identities of their one-on-one combats!). Even when magic or divine prophecy are not involved, names have great power simply as engines of identity, a rich and complicated topic that will stay current to the end of Arthuriana.
ReplyDeleteI've also been grappling with the meaning behind the theme of names in Troyes and, now, Wolfram. It seems to me that to name someone serves not only to identify that person, but also to invoke the history behind the name/person. At first, Lancelot is only the Knight of the Cart, and his whole history is just that ... the episode of the Cart. He has no family, no origins, no other adventures that would grant him honor. It's only once he's named that the entire weight of his personal history and relations comes to rest upon his shoulders. Like a tangible weight, Lancelot's adventures, adultery with the Queen and kinship ties with various persons descends upon the reader's awareness as he/she reads the story.
ReplyDeleteSimilar things occur when Percival, Galahad or Gawain go unnamed for however long a period of time in their adventures. Unnamed, they have a blank slate. They have no family — and therefore no associated guilt or innocence "by association" — no history from which to derive honor. The meaning behind their names is absent, but the body is still present, forcing us to ask just why names matter. Why do we place such value on names? Is it because to name is to invoke anything and everything ever associated with or attached to that name in mythology, stories, gossip, etc.? Why do people's histories matter so much to us?
Like Mike said: "Names have great power simply as engines of identity." To invoke Derrida (and consequently his writings!), someone's name is necessary as a sign that points to signifiers, or to the body with which that name is attached in writing, of whatever sort. Without a name, a person is not a whole person, because he lacks the history and interpersonal connections that accompany full identification of who he is.