Monday, November 30, 2009
Darkon
Turns out that a Darkon documentary exists and can be found for free on Hulu. I haven't watched it, but I have watched the trailer. Though I didn't notice any mention of Arthur, the trailer does talk about border disputes and the need to protect imagined national boundaries. Plus, they wear chain mail!
Children and Arthur: more...
The American minister William Byron Forbush wrote a book called The Boy Problem in 1901, suggesting that the behavioral difficulties so commonly experienced by adolescent boys might be caused by social pressure for male youths to rush into adulthood unprepared and thus keenly vulnerable to the moral dangers encountered during this stage of life . His solution to this problem was to found the Knights of King Arthur, a youth group capturing the spirit of chivalry and knightliness of the Arthurian legends (Forbush was greatly influenced by Tennyson's version of Malory, go figure). These groups were organized into castles, sponsored by local churches, with adult leader "Merlins" to advise them. The boys progressed through stages of knighthood: page to squire to knight. They went on quests (the performances of good deeds), and took Arthurian names (or, later, American heroes' names). There were groups for girls as well, the Queens of Avalon.
Anyhow, the essay I read focused on the "Americanization of knighthood" represented by these groups, on the subversion of Arthurian values for celebrated American ones-- meritocracy, namely. We talked briefly in one class about the relationship between nobility and ability in Malory, about the fact that in the proof of knightliness, highbornliness (new word?) is simultaneously revealed. For Forbush to turn this concept on its head, and not even in a consciously revolutionary way, is pretty radical to me. And yet another incarnation for the well-heeled legend.
P.s. Let's pretend this isn't my first post, though I imagine most of you have not failed to notice this is so?
She's A Lady... (woa woa woa)...
Lady Merlin
A question for my fellow(ship of) Arthurians: is Lady Brusen just a female Merlin? And if so, is she negative or positive?
My initial reaction to her was negative. Deeply negative. She tricks Lancelot? This equated her with Morgan Le Fay and caused me to cast a doubtful eye over everything she did for the remainder of our reading. On a second look, however, I was forced to admit that she holds the same space in our story as Merlin. As an operator she gives people agency that they otherwise would be denied. She knows, via prophesy (prophesy people!), that Elaine and Lancelot’s child will be the greatest knight ever and immediately enacts a plan to bring that child into the world. More telling is the way she goes about it. Disguising one lover to appear as the real heart’s desire of another is emotionally disturbing, rationally insulting, and leads to all sorts of trouble… we’ve also seen it before. Amazingly enough, our beloved King Arthur was created in this very way.
Is Lady Brusen to Galahad as Merlin is to Arthur? Is she a testament for female agency (tricking the knight instead of the dame is fairly impressive) or is this just a bitchy woman who operates in the narrative as a tool to move the plot along? Ultimately, I find her to have a wisdom of magic and a sense of destiny that most characters seem to be missing. She is certainly “a smooth operator” if nothing else.
What do we make of this mysterious lady my fellows?
Thoughts on Blood
On the otherhand, Team Launcelot (including Trystram, Paloymides, and Lamerok) goes incognito for a variety of reasons. They hesitate to give their names and even fabricate names on occasion. However, when Trystram asks Gawain and bros for their names, they boast, " Wyte thou welle, Sir Knyght...we feare nat much to tell our namys...we be nevewys unto Kynge Arthure" (411).
Ironically, Gang Gawain is more villainous than Team Launcelot and if anybody should hide themselves it should be those four brethryn. And yet they have no need to hide themselves because they're blood relatives of Arthur. They break the knightly code freely and their blood (their identity) serves as armor and shield. Nobody dares avenge them for their crimes, but Team Launcelot cannot be so relaxed.
I suspect Malory is commenting on nepotism and the hypocrisy of who is and isn't punished for their crimes. In this narrative we must question Arthur's ability to uphold justice in his court.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Trystram and Palomydes' Love/Hate Relationship
The first such instance that I noticed occurs in the first part of the Book of Sir Trystram: "And every day Sir Palomydes wolde repreve Sir Trystram of olde hate betwyxt them; and ever Sir Trystram spake fayre and seyde lytyll. But whan Sir Palomydes se that Sir Trystram was falle in syknes, than was he hevy for hym and comforted hym in all the best wyse he coude" (327, ll. 20-25). Whatever anger Palomydes feels towards Trystram evaporated when he sees that Trystram is unwell.
Later, after the Tournament at Lonezep, Trystram finds out that Palomydes is going to be executed, Trystram wants to save him: "Whan Sir Trystram knew how Sir Palomydes wente to his deathward, he was hevy to hyre thereof, and sayde, 'Howbehit that I am wrothe wyth him, yet I woll nat suffir hym to dye so shamefull a dethe, for he ys a full noble knyght.' And anone Sir Trystram asked his armys; and whan he was armed he toke his horse and two squyars wyth hym, and rode a grete pace thorow a foreyste aftir Sir Palomydes, the nexte way unto the castell Pelownes where Sir Palomydes was jowged to his dethe" (456, ll. 29-36). Soon after saving him, Trystram comes upon Palomydes singing about La Beal Isode in the woods and again tries to kill him!
Are they bound to be kind to each other because they are both good knights? Or are they bound to hate each other because of the wrongs they each believe the other to have done? Is Trystram supposed to avenge Isolde's, um, purity, when Palomydes declares his love for her, or is this a moot point since she is having an affair with Trsytram?
Confused though I am, I really enjoyed this storyline.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Trystram for this week
As for the Gawayne brothers, it is awfully shocking what they are up to. How could Gaherys behead his mother and later gang up and kill Lamerok after he had saved the brothers from Palomydes. Later what is more confusing is when Gawayne and his brothers volunteer to look for Launcelot. In this version Sir Bors seems to have Gawayne’s adventures. Why does Malory do this? A hatred of the Scots since he is so taken with Inglonde?
As for Mark, I was surprised to learn about his brother and his nephew who not mentioned in the earlier book. And that’s not the only surprise. Percival has a different background here. He is Lamerok’s brother. In Chretien, he his dead father and brothers are knights but he is a brought up all wrong by his mother. Another question is that if Palomydes is a pagan, how come his mother is Christian. Has she converted along with her other sons?
Finally, I do like Arthur. He actually fights and takes a beating and has to be rescued. He is contrasted with Mark and obviously is above board and trusts to the honor of knights which include his nephews and Mark (and maybe Launcelot too who seems to hang around the king as though they are best buddies).
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Parry's Fisher King Story
Hello again. For those of you who didn't get a handout, or perhaps would like a digital copy, I've decided to post Parry's version of the Fisher King tale as told in Terry Gilliam's Fisher King (1991). It's interesting to note how this one contrasts from the other Fisher King tales we've read. It's also interesting to note that Jeff Bridges' character wears a bandage on his right hand throughout the film. Pretty overt symbolism, but I like it nonetheless.
Chivalrically yours,
The Boar of Battelle
PS
After this, I'll cut it out. No more Fisher King posts--unless I'm forced.
Parry’s tale of the Fisher King:
It begins with the king as a boy having to spend the night alone in the forest to prove his courage so he can become king. And while he’s spending the night alone, he’s visited by a sacred vision: out of the fire appears the Holy Grail, the symbol of God’s divine grace, and a voice said to the boy: “You shall be keeper of the grail so that it may heal the hearts of men.” But the boy was blinded by greater visions of a life filled with power and glory and beauty, and in this state of radical amazement, he felt, for a brief moment, not like a boy, but invincible, like God. So he reached in the fire to take the grail and the grail vanished, leaving him with his hand in the fire, to be terribly wounded. Now, as this boy grew older, his wound grew deeper, until one day, life for him lost its reason. He had no faith in any man, not even himself; he couldn’t love or feel loved; he was sick with experience—he began to die. One day a fool wandered in tot the castle and found the king alone. Now, being a fool, he was simple-minded. He didn’t see a king, “what ails you, friend?” The king replied, “I’m thirsty. I need some water to cool my throat.” So the fool took a cup from beside his bed, filled it with water and handed it to the king. As the king began to drink he realized that his wound was healed. He looked in his hands and there was the Holy Grail—that which he had sought all of his life. He turned to the fool and said with amazement, “How could you find that which my brightest and bravest could not?” The fool replied, “I don’t know. I only knew that you were thirsty.”
Music of _The Fisher King_
This post is intended to serve as a supplement to my presentation on The Fisher King. I had two main ideas that I wanted to get across last Monday. The first, is the notion that Gilliam's film confuses medieval stories of the Fisher King--such as those we see in Chre(accent)tien and Wolfram--by having each of the two main characters occupy dual roles as both redeeming knight and wounded king. Hopefully, that was clear. The second point, dealt with the film's main themes--the maiming sin of pride, and the healing power of compassion. These are themes that recur throughout the history of Fisher King narratives, and receive great attention in this particular film. Since I didn't have time last night, I'm using the blog as an opportunity to discuss the important role the film's musical score plays in establishing and supporting these themes. There are three songs in particular which dominate the film and align with certain characters:
SONGS OF PRIDE (Jack)
“Hit the Road Jack”
As suggested by its title, The Fisher King notably evokes Arthurian quests for the Holy Grail. Before the opening credits even begin, the idea of travel is evoked against the empty black screen by the popular Ray Charles song, “Hit the Road Jack” (1961)—the theme of Jack’s show, and one of two recurring songs which orbit his character. After seeing Jack berate his callers in the opening scene, the song makes good sense: not only does Bridges’ character have the same name as the character in the song, he also acts like a jerk; his callous behavior toward others provides sufficient justification for him to be told to “hit the road.” However, as the quest narrative becomes more apparent, “Hit the Road, Jack,” gains significance as a directive. The song proclaims what Jack is going to do, as he indeed hits the road. Yet, unlike medieval grail champions such as Percival and Galahad, Jack is reluctant, and his motives are purely selfish.
“I’ve Got the Power”
This wonderful early '90s anthem of self-empowerment is the other theme of Jack's show, and recurs throughout the film. It can be read in a few ways. The first fits with Jack's character at the beginning, and points to the smug self-assuredness arising from narcissism. Jack has the power to do what he wants because he is more important than others (or so he thinks)--a reflection of his sin of pride and egotism. Another way of looking at the significance of this song, would be to think of it in correlation to Parry's declaration that Jack is the one who can defeat the Red Knight and capture the grail. It is through Jack's power that these goals are achieved and the wounded men are healed. Looking at Snap's great contribution to Western humanity in this light, we can see how the meaning of "I Got the Power" subtly changes and takes on various nuances as the quest unfolds.
SONG OF COMPASSION (Parry)
“How About You?”
What isn't compassionate about this song? Even the title suggests that the singer is thinking about the thoughts and feelings of another. It is significant to note that we first hear this song during Parry's entrance into the story, and we last hear it at the end after the healing has occurred. In the three main instances of its occurrence, Parry actively works to include others, always conducting and encouraging participation. Also, the lyrics of the song seem to call for a response--though it isn't of the call and response mode. A sample lyric:
I like New York in June
How about you?
I like a Gershwin tune
How about you?
Those lines point to the reciprocal exchange which the song's lyrics, if not the song itself, invites of its listeners. After both men are healed, we see the new compassionate Jack take over as conductor of "How About You," and his enthusiasm paints him as wholly separate from the detached, egotistic man whose main concerns are his biography and power. Jack is now someone who can genuinely feel for, and with, others.
I know this was a rather quick overview of the stupendous jamz of The Fisher King. I love music, so I'm always interested to see how directors choose to employ song to enhance their narrative. So, for my final statement, I feel the need to say this: Watch The Fisher King. It rules. And if you feel like it, pay attention to the use of these songs, and maybe you can decide for yourself if there's a connection between this and this.
Malory & Lancelot
But how do we reconcile that with this passage on pg. 163:
"What?" seyde Sir Launcelot, "is he a theff and a knyght and a ravyssher of women? He doth shame unto the order of knyghthode, and contrary unto his oth. It is pyte that he lyvyth..."
How do we understand that in reference to Malory's own history as a transgressive knight? Multiple choice:
(A) Self-repudiation
(B) Some other kind of self-reference (With the idea that Malory wrote at least part of the Morte Darthur while in prison, a way of saying, "Look, I put this in my book, I totes believe a knight would NEVER do that stuff I'm accused of doing.")
(C) Irony (In light of the motif of violations of knightly code by other knights in the Morte Darthur and also Sir Pedyvere's exploitation of Lancelot's adherence to knightly codes and his naivete, which are related; also on the same pg. 163, Sir Kay, our guy whose job it is to complain and abuse people, identifies himself as a "trew knyght," which is surely ironic?)
(D) Nostalgia (Lancelot as a symbol of way back when knighthood was for reals and everybody really did what they were supposed to-- related to the in media res nature of Lancelot's narrative)
(E) None of the above
--
As a further complication, there is also this passage on pg. 162, which I think is an interesting counter (?) to our discussion last night about how attacking a weary knight is verboten or at least uncool.
Than they hurteled togedyrs as two wylde bullys, russhynge and laysshyng with her shyldis and swerdys, that sometyme they felle bothe on their nosys. Thus they foughte stylle two owres and more and never wolde have reste, and Sir Tarquyne gaff Sir Launcelot many woundys, that all the grounde there as they faughte was all besparcled with bloode.
Than at the laste Sir Terquyne wexed faynte and gaff somwhatt abakke, and bare his shylde low for werynesse.
That aspyed Sir Launcelot, and lepte uppon hym fersly and gate hym by the bavoure of hys helmette and plucked hym down on his kneis; and anone he raced of his helme and smote his necke in sundir.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Sir Trystrams
Sir Gareth the Percival
I am wondering whether the two sisters, Lyonette and lyonesse are also Arthurian "Others" as they have magic salves and rings repectively. It is rather amusing where Lyonesse says to Gareth that he must return her ring as without it she is not all that beautiful. In this tale the dwarf appears to be a "good being" although it is not entirely clear whether he knows Gareth from Orkney and has been sent to him by his mother.
In this tale, Malory is far more sympathetic to Gawayne, who along with Sir Launcelot, believe that Gareth in the guise of the kitchen boy, should be treated well as he seems to come from noble lineage. The glossary does not explain the meaning of his name, Bewmaynes, which Malory also spells as Beawmaynes.
Some parts of the Gareth tale also remind me of Chretien's Gawayne so it seems Malory pieced toether certain adventures for Gareth unless of course he was using a source as he claims.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
I’ve been thinking about the relation between the mindset that determined the way in which conflicts were faced and law was carried out in the Middle Ages, which is the topic of my presentation a few weeks ago, and how this applied to literature. So, first a short reminder of the presentation in order to make my comment about Malory…
According to Medieval French Literature and Law, by Howard Bloch, and as I stated in my presentation, the form of doing justice during feudal times was by facing each other in battle, a situation in which the verdict was decided by God, who determined who would win the battle. Later on, as law and trials came more and more into use, humans gave the verdict; justice became much more secularized. At the same time, this had an interesting effect upon the way justice and society worked. Before, the entire community was committed to the conflict and enmity not only involved all members of the community at the time of the conflict, but it was also inherited (which is the same way in which peace worked). Later on, the process of justice became individual as the person faced a trial on his or her own. One last characteristic: during the feudal period, power tended to lie dispersed among the feudal lords; whereas, later on, with the development of the trial, it was possible to centralize power in the hands of the king.
Bloch compares the two periods of the Middle Ages with the two typical forms of literature of the time: the epic and the romance. According to his analysis of the ways of carrying out law, the epic is highly descriptive of the feudal period while the romance is more descriptive of the individuality of the tests the knight will face as in a trial.
I think that Malory’s Le Morte dArthur serves as an interesting transitional text. It makes the struggle for the centralization of power of the king in the High and Late Middle Ages very clear. In the beginning of the text, we have a King Arthur who must fight against innumerable lords that do not accept him as their king because of his age and origins. However, regardless of their motivations, this first trial is also an indicator of the enormous power that these lords had. In Malory’s narration, Arthur serves as a tremendously centralizing power for the reign. Despite the obstacles of his age, his unusual birth and origins, and the opposition of so many of the lords of the reign, he is able to establish himself as the ruler over them all. This first period of his seems to depict this transition that is moving away from this feudal system and towards a centralized one, which is made evident in the fact that all the adventures are reported back to him.
Another element that seems transitional to me is how the older concept of communal justice is merged with that of the individual challenge. Though this is something that is been present in most of the texts we’ve read and is present in Malory’s text once more. When Lancelot encounters Terquyn, who has imprisoned many knights, they face each other, and Lancelot proves himself good enough to be the liberator of the “three score and foure” prisoners his opponent has as well as being worthy of his friendship. However, Terquyn refuses to release the prisoners when he knows that he is Lancelot… Lancelot had taken the life of his brother, Sir Carados; therefore justice must be done for his brother, just as in the other romances we’ve read. The reason for one knight killing another is long forgotten. There is no intention or desire to establish justice as we understand it today. A family member’s blood that has been shed must be avenged. However, in this romance is in the others, it is the individual who must face the opponent to carry out the act of justice.
Monday, November 16, 2009
The demonization of Morgan le Fay
Up until now, we've only encountered Morgan le Fay as a more positive figure. Monmouth makes little mention of her, but in his Vita Merlini, she is a benevolent healer and ruler of the magical isle where Arthur is taken after his mortal wounding. Anna, and not Morgan, is mentioned as Arthur's sister; Morgan is just his healer. As a spiritual healer, the figure of Morgan is linked with various Celtic goddesses, including Morrigan. In Chretien de Troyes's romances, Morgan is a healer whose ointment cures Yvain's madness and she's actually (buddy-buddy) a guest at Erec and Enide's wedding. Although she seems a troublemaker in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, one can argue that she was just doing it to test Arthur and his knights to make sure they remained on the right path — a benevolent admonition of sorts, even if she does use magic and rather unChristian behavior while she's at it. But the point is, in SGGK, Morgan is not directly and overtly demonized or made out to be a villain as she is in Malorys' Le Mort d'Arthur.
So, why the change? What could have caused Morgan to degenerate from near-goddess to a villainous character?
A provocative dissertation I found, "Goddess Dethroned: The Evolution of Morgan le Fay," by Dax Carver (available on Dissertation Abstracts International) argues that blame for this evolution lies at Cistercian feet. Carver writes that any deity or mythological figure often undergoes a process of evolution, often a humanizing process, and that Troyes enacts this process for Morgan, downgrading her from a spiritual healer to a wedding guest who can make simple ointments. Carver parallels the ‘blackening’ of Morgan le Fay in the Lancelot-Grail cycle with the advent of a new order within the Catholic Church: the Cistercian monks. In fact, these Cistercians could have written the Lancelot-Grail cycle: “The evidence for Cistercian authorship is spread through the Quest. We meet with no black monks, Benedictines, but only with a white hermit, white monks and white abbeys—the Cistercian habit was white” (37). Furthermore, “the stages through which Lancelot passes before he obtains absolution . . . are those which are systematically set forth in a manual of confession by Nicholas of Clairvaux [Clairvaux being the site of the most powerful Cistercian monastery at the time], possibly a friend of our author, and surely bound by the same vows” (37).
Carver builds on this hypothesis of Cistercian authorship to argue that the Cistercians, who believed in the importance of separating themselves from women (the inciters of sexual desire), marked out Morgan as evil because of her pagan origins and magical abilities. “Geoffrey of Monmouth, Chretien de Troyes and even the author of Gereint tried to neutralize the negative effect of Morgan’s magical powers by focusing on her healing faculties. Unfortunately, however, ‘the Cistercians believed that it was blasphemous to attribute healing or prophetic powers to a female who was not a member of a religious order and, furthermore, that such powers undermined the authority of the priesthood and the church.’ Quite simply, the Cistercians, and all Arthurian romance writers that followed in their shadow, could not abide a strong, powerful woman who was essentially benign. Such would not only be giving credence to the power of the female, but in Morgan’s case, to a pagan god” (39).
Thus, since Morgan had too important a role in the Arthurian legends to be gotten rid of altogether, the Cistercians had to twist her character into a villainous woman in order to condemn paganism and magic as unchristian. This influence spread from the Lancelot-Grail cycle to Malory, but the damage wasn’t done yet. Later Arthurian tale-spinners would transfer Arthur’s incest with Morgause to Morgan le Fay, further blackening her character.
Basically, I just wanted to point out the interesting fact that Morgan, in Malory, is just a stepping stone along the course of an evolution of a character. Just as Nasreen noticed a difference in Malory’s treatment of Gawain, and other characters appear somewhat differently (Arthur, for one, loses a duel with Pellinore!?) … so does Morgan. We’re at the turning point at which Morgan goes from heroine/good to villain/bad, and this turning point has led to modern retellings of the Arthurian legends in an attempt to redeem and recover Morgan from this ‘blackening.’
Source: Carver, Dax D. “Goddess Dethroned: The Evolution of Morgan Le Fay.” Diss. Georgia State University, 2006. http://etd.gsu.edu/theses/available/etd-04282006-082115/unrestricted/carver_dax_d_200605_ma.pdf.
Malory and Sir Gawain
In Mallory, Arthur seems to be all over the place with his grey eyes and frightening visage. Whereas Guinevere is mild and gentle, and Merlin more of a flibbertigibbet. The second book concerning the war with Rome is very similar to Geoffery which I presume was his source.
Arthuriana in the 19th-Century
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Usurping (National) Identity
While reading the first few books of Malory's Le Morte Darthur, also an English text like SGGK, I noticed that occasionally the concepts of "English" and "British" -- "Inglonde" and "Bretayne" -- are seemingly interchangeable. In the course of the battle with Lucius, Emperor of Rome, a soldier decries, "thes Englyshe Bretouns be braggars of kynde " (Malory 126) suggesting the English are British (and that they're really boastful about their winnings). It's as though the English, by residing on the land settled by Brutus, have adopted the British nationality. In fact, even today the nation that encapsulates England and Wales (Scotland and N. Ireland) is commonly known as the British Isles. The name has remained but the settlers and rulers (according to Monmouth's history) have changed.
I find it ironic that although the English defeated the Welsh (the "original" settlers) they opted to reserve Britain for the name of the island. This is not unlike Parzival's manoeuvre when he slays the Red Knight and assumes his armor and role in society; or, like Gawayne when he selfishly "borrows" Pelleas's armor in order to have his way with Ettarde in "Gawain, Ywain, and Marhalt." Is it a Medieval ritual of prowess to don some element of a powerful thing defeated? Is it out of respect for the slain knight or conquered kingdom that some identifying element is worn by the conqueror? Or, perhaps more likely, is taking the name/history/identity of another a way of showing power (i.e., look what I killed)? Either way, it looks like Arthur and the history that goes along with him have become England's trophy for colonizing the Welsh.
A Pilgrimage is a journey to a sacred place that is either physical or spiritual, sometimes both. I think it is important to examine the idea of the pilgrimage in relation to the tales of Arthur and his knights in Le Morte Darthur. In a sense every story, whether or not it contains an actual pilgrimage, as we understand it, does contain the elements leading to the Grail Quest, which in itself should be recognized as the ultimate pilgrimage. In Le Morte Darthur the knights go on expeditions and participate in quests that are meant to define their character, their honor and their chivalry. The central characters in each separate tale either transforms into a more humble person through obstacles and challenges that test the human condition or, as well will find out (in the case of Gawain and his brothers in particular) who in fact follows in the footsteps of Arthur and who tries to circumvent customs and traditions that define the King and the Knights of the Round Table.
The conceptions that play out in these stories, this “travel” literature, both literal and figurative are there to test the soul. In the tales that make up Le Morte Darthur, the protagonist follows a path, both specific and unspecific, to improve their well-being, to improve upon their station and, many times, even love. Moving from one place to another, either spiritually or physically, hints at a noticeable change for the person both internally and externally. In essence the movement creates a path that the knights must follow in order to accomplish what they have been motivated toward. In due course, whether the change is expected or unexpected, the person reaches a point at which they change because of the knowledge they have gained from the experiences on the journey. In the end all, well those who have not perished, participate in the Grail Quest, as wonderful as some of the tales are, as tragic as some are, and as boring as some can be (I’m sorry Gareth), this is in the end, both literally and figuratively, about the death of Arthur.
I know this does not really expound on the great and the trivial, the good and the bad, and of course the life and death of Arthur and some of his knights but I have read Le Morte Darthur twice before and what is said above is part of what I have taken from the story. I would certainly like to delve more into why I find some of the tales so intriguing but I do not want to spoil anything because believe me some things will take you by surprise!!!
Thursday, November 12, 2009
We can build her! Better than before!
Before we lose ourselves entirely in the world of Mallory I wanted to mention a couple of thoughts I had about Silence that tie in with the Green Knight/ Wife of Bath as well.
Essentially, we talked over, around, and through female agency a lot two Mondays ago (and I'm sure it came up last Monday as well!) but one of the most interesting things about Silence is that to ensure female security they created a super male character... who was actually female. Since there was no male champion (as there supposedly would have been in Arthurian times? unclear about this) to fight against the injustice the King's rash decision caused women of the kingdom, a crazed plot was formed in order to rectify this... which inadvertently created the only singular figure in whom feminine justice could be brought about.
I mean feminine justice in two ways. First, the obvious, is justice for women. Unless we tap into our latent (or not so latent) medieval mindset it's impossible to see how the two sisters are to blame for two knights being morons, but even if they were dreadful creatures the kings law affected all women ill. A champion of their cause was needed so that a woman wouldn't become a burden to her family/ state or risk being cast aside (thus leading to extremes such as starvation, prostitution, the modern world...) when she did not inherit land. Obviously this only applied to the aristocratic women, but in our works that's all we have so we're going with it. But no such champion existed under this almost Arthurian king. There was no Gawain to win a tournament for them, no Kay to tell the king off, and the queen seemed less than interested in the plight of her fellow female (according to our text, she was preoccupied) and so women were left to the deranged ideas of their fathers. However, Silence's father not only creates a super knight, he accidentally creates the avenger of women's justice. She got bit by the knighthood spider to right the wrong (I’m mixing my superhero metaphors but just go with it). It's deeply unsatisfying that she simply hands in her sword and takes up knitting at the end of the poem, yet narratively it is not. Silence had accomplished what she was created to do. Even if that creation was unintentional on the part of her father, it is perfectly balanced and lovely if you look at the story from a narrative standpoint. How fun that the disinherited one, the powerless woman, brings about inheritance not only for herself (her fathers plan) but for her whole country?!
The second feminine justice is where Gawain and the Green Knight and Chaucer (huzzah!) enter the discussion. The Wife of Bath's Tale proves there was a consciousness of, if not an actual case, feminine justice in this period. What would a woman do to a man she knew was a rapist if she had power? How far would a woman do to right a wrong that wasn't done to her personally? Without actually turning Guinevere and her women into Harpies, Chaucer gives them a chance to participate in the court of Arthur rationally (to an extent). Now we have Morgan le Fay (sassy name right?) trying to enact what she sees as justice and it comes across as essentially just bat shit crazy. She claims to have been wronged and is being her own champion. Gawain is often the instrument of justice for women in Arthurian literature. So what happens when he is in a text, resisting temptation from a woman, and being tortured by another, in the name of feminine justice?
Just a really long, slightly rambling thought/ query!
Monday, November 9, 2009
Subversion in "The Carle of Carlisle"
Out of our supplementary Gawain readings, I found "The Carle of Carlisle" particularly critical of the knightly class and its inability to practice the chivalrous behavior it promotes. This criticism becomes apparent in the tale's depictions of Sir Kay and Bishopp Bodwin. These men, through actions and words, insult their host, the Carle of Carlisle, and believe they are within their rights to do so. Sir Kay is the primary culprit in these scenarios, and his antagonism of the Carle begins before the two even meet. When Gawain, Kay, and Bodwin, lost in a borderland and separated from the court of Arthur, approach the Carle's castle, Sir Kay claims that he will take accommodations by force if necessary: "For if he jangle and make itt stout (complain and resist)/I shall beate the Carle all about" (107-8). Sir Kay, as a member of the Round Table, believes himself superior to the Carle, since the Carle lives in the wilderness and is not on friendly terms with Arthur.
After they have gained admittance to the Carle's castle, Sir Kay and Bishopp Bodwin continue to insult their host, treating him disrespectfully by roughly displacing the Carle's palfrey from its food and shelter in order to feed their own horses. The men perform these actions on separate occasions, and both times the Carle responds to their transgressions of chivalry by hitting them. But soon Gawain notices that the Carle's palfrey is outside and unfed in the rain:
[Gawain] "Sayth, stand up, fole, and eate thy meate.
Thy master payeth for all that wee heere gett."
The Carle himselfe stood thereby
And thanked him of his curtesye. (285-8)
The Carle's thanks take the form of a great feast for the men, and an immediate friendship with Gawain. This sets into motion a number of challenges meant to test Gawain's courtesy--all of which he successfully completes (though he almost fails a test with the Carle's wife). Gawain comes across as the exemplar of proper knightly behavior--an example which sharply contrasts those set by the seneschal and the Bishop.
Gawain's final test comes when the Carle commands the knight to behead him. At first, Gawain expresses reluctance, but soon consents. After the giant has lost his head, he returns to a normal size and Gawain discovers that his action has lifted a 40-year curse. The Carle explains that many other knights had visited him, and because of their lack of courtesy, they were unable to fulfill the obligations that would break the curse. These earlier knights, like Sir Kay and Bishopp Bodwin, are failed representatives of chivalry, and their poor treatment of politically disenfranchised border dwellers come across as failings of the knightly class.
"The Carle of Carlisle" reads as a text which, while negotiating questions of borders and national identity, also negotiates proper relations between the aristocratic knightly class and those without political clout. By exposing the failings of Sir Kay, Bishop Bodwin, and the numerous visiting knights extending over 40 years, the story questions aristocratic right, and calls for the ruling class to, like Gawain, abide by the courtesy and respect chivalry requires.
Sir Gawain and the Turk appears to be the same plot with a variation as does The Green Knight. I am wondering whether these are just different versions as different story tellers adjusted the story according to their audience.
In our own story, it surprises me that Gawain refused to meet his aunt who set up the challenge. What was the need for such a challenge? I don’t have my text with me but I was wondering whether about the relationship between Gawain and the three women. Were they his relatives? It appears that Gawain has a number of female relatives whose existence he is not always aware of. Also when Sir Percival and Sir Galahad are not around, then Gawain is the purest and bravest of the knights.
The Green Knight is obviously the “Other,” or has Morgan bewitched a human? The same with the Turk; I can see that the Turk is a romanticized representation of the “Other,” but does every “Other” have to be magical and truly “otherworldly?”
As for the question about Arthur, he is even more “whimpy” than in the other stories. Presumably to create a contrast between him and the brave Gawain; which of course leads to the next question: how come Arthur is not supposed to accept a challenge, and when he does, it is Gawain who jumps up and puts his life on the line.
My final question is about the host’s wife. Does she represent women’s promiscuity or she is simply the magical “Other?”
Sunday, November 8, 2009
King Arthur and the Knights of Justice
Further Thoughts on Rape & Sex in the Middle Ages
On Monday, Natalia discussed the medieval litigation of rape, and many of us were startled by the mildness and leniency there, since the ethics of the age so espoused chivalry and protection of maidens. But here's my thought:
It may have been then (as it was recently and continues to be in many places) the prevalent attitude that libido is the realm of men; ie, a normal woman does not really ever want to have sex, though she will deign to (1) out of tender feeling for the man she loves (Enide) and/or (2) if proper etiquette is observed (Olwen). If such is true, then the contrast between marital sex and rape is merely one of magnitude, a question of stewardship and politeness. Not as we would (hopefully) understand it: the stark contrast between love and misogyny, between friendliness and violence.
We could argue that the female characters who do exhibit sexual desire are masculinized in the sense that they are "bad guys;" they break the contract of femininity that prevents them from suffering the fates of bad guys, such as with Queen Eufeme, who, as Rocío noted, is drawn and quartered. (Guinevere, of course, is problematic, esp. as our Arthurian lusty lady exemplar.)
Here are some disjointed textual items:
1. Maybe it's a weird example because she's a fairy, but Sir Lanval's lady-love in Marie de France's Lais of Lanval is the most sexually-liberated "good guy" we've seen, and even she seems to bequeath her body to Sir Lanval rather than to partake of his.
"When the girl heard these words from the man who loved her so, she granted him her love and her body.... He experienced great joy and pleasure, for day or night he could see his beloved often and she was entirely at his command." (74-75)
I find the fairy lady most significant because the power dynamic between her and Lanval is so atypical (while her body is at Lanval's disposal, she has the agency to shut down the exchange; she rescues him at the end; they ride off into the sunset on her horse) and yet she is still demure, not libidinal.
2. Chretien de Troyes's Eric and Enide, after a lengthy description of the sweetness between Eric and Enide on their wedding night: "The love between the two of them made the maiden more bold: she was not afraid of anything; she endured all, whatever the cost." (63) Che romantico!
3. A general paucity of happily-married characters-- (Eufemie and Cador in Silence are, I think, a significant departure on that front.) -- and, more importantly, a general paucity of happily-married parents. (You can have happy lovers, and they can get married; but if they have children, that means they're having sex, which somehow clashes with the idea of them as happy lovers.) Our primary heroes:
Arthur -- bastard son of duplicitous date-rape interlude
Galahad -- bastard son of duplicitous date-rape interlude
Perceval -- father killed; raised by mother in the woods
Lancelot -- father killed (by his own people); raised by fairies (and mermen)
Even Gawain, I think, in some traditions is illegitimate?
4. Despite its cavalier instances or mentions of rape, Wolfram von Eschenbach's Parzival seems to offer exceptions to the alibidinal female:
"A question. Would they celebrate their nuptials? He and the Queen answered 'Yes'. He lay with such restraint as would not suit many women nowadays, were they so treated." (110)
"The king trimmed him in his body to such effect that he is unserviceable to any woman today for her sport." (329)
"There was a lady ruled her lands, perfect in her integrity.... Human cravings found no expression in her." (409) [A contrast with normative, ie libidinal, femininity?]
Procreative, domestic bliss of Condwiramurs and Parzival.
5. What to make of the ... enigmatic role of Lady Bertilak in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight? Lynn Arner's, uh, tangential reading of her as an ungracious hostess aside, how do we understand the sexuality of the noblewoman who Gawain senses "has more insight and skill // in the art [of love] than [he], or even a hundred // of the likes of [Gawain], however long [they] live" (123); who courts Gawain for his "kindness, courtesy and exquisite looks" (105); but who is actually performing lust at the behest of her husband, who is choreographing all this at the behest of Morgan Le Fay?
She says:
"I come to learn of love and more,
a lady all alone.
Perform for me before
my husband heads for home." (123)
and furthermore, some world-building:
"But what lady in this land wouldn't latch the door,
wouldn't rather hold you as I do here...
forgetting all grief and engaging in joy..." (105)
All this is performance, we learn, and yet the poem's narration exposits:
"Love would not let her ladyship sleep
and the fervor she felt in her heart would not fade." (136-37)
Colonization and Christianity
I really enjoyed reading “The Ends of Enchantment: Colonialism and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight” by Lynn Arner. I found the interpretation of the medieval text interesting and appropriate. However, there are some elements that left me thinking.
Understanding it from the point of view of this Welsh land that is still pagan, maybe, the answer could point towards a mid-point of conversion of these pagans. If this were the case, then at the sight of the faithful man’s spiritual prowess, the Green Knight respects and honors him. In doing this, the pagan rises himself to an honorable position too. However, Arner argues that “SGGK encourages English readers to resist identifying with or sympathizing with people from these regions and, instead, instructs audience members to understand themselves to be a superior form of humanity to the Welsh” (85). I believe that the end of the poem complicates the political/religious colonizing notions implied in the text. It does not inscribe the resolution under a single point of view. While it may be true that the text encourages the English to feel in the right to conquer the Welsh as Arner says, the conclusion of the poem raises the Welsh to a more dignified position by depicting them as people who are capable of honoring a spiritual prowess.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
A Philological Look at the Dark Morgian
Last night it was mentioned that Morgian started out good and became progressively more evil. It doesn't seem that parsimonious, though.
Part of the issue seems to turn on whether the Mabinogion texts are dated earlier than Chretien and Geoffrey, or whether they are dated later. Based on the Mabinogion and the Bruts, Waller argues that Gwalcmei's (Gawain's) mother Gwyar (a) is his mother not his father, and (b) is best associated with Morgian. In so arguing, Waller cites Sir John Rhys, who
suggests that the etymology of the name Gwyar, which seems to mean blood that has been shed, "places the bearer of it on the level of the Irish Morrigu as a war-fury."(5) Miss L. A. Paton in citing this passage says of the name Gwyar, "But, if it belongs to Gwalchmei's mother at all when put beside Geoffrey's words it places its bearer on a nearer level with the war-goddess Ana.(6)"
(5) J. Rhys, Studies in the Arthurian Legend (Oxford, 1891), p. 169.
(6) L. A. Paton, Studies in the Fairy Mythology of Arthurian Romance, Radcliffe College Monograph No. 13 (Boston, 1903), p. 140. Miss Paton gives in a note a reference to the pas- sage in which San-Marte refers to Gwyar as Gwalchmei's father.
In other words, one can't be sure that Gwyar is Gwalcmei's mother rather than his father, but if Gwyar is his father there is no other tradition that concurs; multiple texts name Gwalcmei's father as Lot/Loth/Llew. On the other hand, if Gwyar is Gwalchmei's mother she is not only his mother but probably most closely associated with Morgian. Ergo the earlier one dates the Mabinogion, the less neatly the progression of "Good Morgian" to "Evil Morgian" appears across the legendarium.[1]
Moreover, Loomis notes that a gloss in a fourteenth-century manuscript notes that the goddess Machae is "a scald-crow; or she is the third Morrigan [Morgian]."[2] Based on this, Morgian/Machae is a much older tradition than the textual evidence suggests, especially if redaction is taken into account. The earliest redaction of the Cattle Raid of Cooley dates back to at least the eighth century, according to Loomis. Among the stories associated with this "scald-crow" are vengeance tales in which Morrigan's vengeance is usually caused by unrequited love.[3]
Based on the evidence of text and redaction, it is, at the very least, questionable that Morgian was really considered a 'good' character earlier in the legendarium, toward the end of which she was supplanted and vilified by a waxing authorial affinity toward Gwenhwyvar.[4] At most, Morgian is a mixed bag of complex literary and oral traditional manifestations, turning moral shades from the brightest white to the deepest midnight across the legendarium. One idea remains: if we are looking for a pattern in the portrayal of Morgian, we may need to look beyond the reductionist construct of "good earlier, evil later."
[1]. Waller, Evangelia H. "A Welsh Branch of the Arthur Family-Tree," in Speculum, Vol. 1. No. 3 (July, 1926), 344-346.
[2]. Loomis, Roger. "Morgain La Fee and the Celtic Goddesses," in Speculum,
Vol. 20, No. 2 (Apr., 1945), 192-193.
[3]. Bloody vengeance for unrequited love strikes me as slightly dark; the crow image doesn't help either.
[4]. As long as we're discussing Welsh/Irish/Celtic manifestations of Morgian, I'll just use the Celtic spelling for 'Gwenivere' to keep things in the same linguistic family.