10.19.06
Marriage and Adultery in Courtly Literature: Review 3
Noble, Peter S. Love and Marriage in Chretien de Troyes. University of Wales, 1982.
103 pages.
In his critical book-length study, Peter S. Noble thematically examines the five Arthurian romances of Chretien de Troyes, focusing (as is self-evident from the title) on the broad topics of love and marriage. Marriage, he claims, is the highest state of love in the works of Chretien de Troyes.
Noble begins his introduction by tracing the historical development of courtly love, stating that the late eleventh and twelfth centuries saw the first flourish of literary interest in romantic relationships. He cautions against use of the term “courtly love,” suggesting that it projects modern notions of love onto a twelfth-century ideology. Further, he argues that there existed two different types of courtly love that require separate classifications; northern and southern. However, he decides to use the term “courtly love” within his book for the sake of convenience.
Noble then continues to outline some of the political and social events that helped to shape the precepts of courtly love, as well as the impact of these ideas on Chretien de Troyes. One example of a social and political transformation he cites is the increasingly active role of women in society; another is the secular nature of love. Further, he claims that Chretien must be partially credited with the proliferation of these ideas, as he was one of the first and most successful authors to deal with courtly love.
Noble concludes his introduction with a narrower, themed consideration of Chretien de Troyes. He asserts that love is a constant presence in Chrétien, with each individual romance revealing additional information about Chrétien’s views on love. Finally, Noble states the purpose of his book; to prove through a study of Chrétien’s Arthurian romance’s that Chretien considered love and morality as inexorably linked, with marriage as the highest form of love and adultery as a less desirable form.
The first romance Noble examines is Erec and Enide. He begins by drawing the reader’s attention to the fact that Erec and Enide is set apart from Chrétien’s other romances by the fact that Erec and Enide are married early in the lay, before they fall in love. This means, therefore, that the tale revolves around problems within a relationship.
Noble asserts that Chretien views Enide rather than Erec as the transgressor in the relationship. She commits the sin of doubting her husband, and therefore must undergo a trial of faith to prove her loyalty. By the end of their journey, Noble argues, Enide has accepted her place as the submissive partner in her marriage, and Erec has learned not to abuse his power as the dominant partner. In the process, the couple develops from an immature, sexually hedonistic couple into a mature couple with an ideal marriage.
Noble’s book, published in 1982, is slightly dated, which might reflect the fact that his views of marriage and adultery do not mesh with the other scholar’s I have researched. He views Chretien as a conservative rather that a revolutionary author and many of his readings are at odds with feminist ideologies. For example, he engages in a fairly simple, straightforward reading of Erec and Enide, claiming that Chretien primarily blames Enide’s doubt of her husband for the couple’s misfortune. The problem with this reading, however, is that it only scratches the surface of the romance. A more modern, feminist reading would probably take the opposite approach and place the blame more squarely on Erec’s shoulders.
I would argue that the dynamic character in the romance is Erec; it is he, and not Enide, who must learn a lesson in order to make his marriage successful. He must be willing to accept Enide as an equal, active partner in their relationship.
Though I disagree with the nature of most of his critical readings, Noble is very skilled at linking Chrétien’s Arthurian romances with a common theme. On a first reading, Chrétien’s separate romances seem to offer disjointed, contradictory views of love. But Noble is very thorough in his examination of their commonalities. His introduction provides an interesting look at Chrétien’s role in courtly love. The argument that most drew my attention was Noble’s statement that there are two types of courtly love, one northern and one southern. I wish he had further elaborated on this one point, but the bulk of his introduction is very useful for placing Chretien in context.
Peter S. Noble’s Love and Marriage in Chretien de Troyes is a thoroughly researched, well argued text. However, his argument is incongruous with modern, feminist approaches to medieval literature.
Rebecca Harpine
University of Mary Washington
Marriage and Adultery in Courtly Literature: Review 4
Hurtig, Dolliann Margaret Hurtig. “I do, I do”: medieval models of marriage and
choice of partners in Marie de France’s ‘Le Fraisne’.” The Romantic
Review, 92, Columbia University, 2001. 14 pages.
In her essay, “I do, I do”: medieval models of marriage and choice of partners in Marie de France’s ‘Le Fraisne,’” Dolliann Margaret Hurtig places Marie de France in the historical context of medieval modes of marriage. In “Le Fresne,” she argues, Marie documents the medieval fusion of secular and religious marriage practices, showing the ways in which they intertwine to provide women with greater agency in their choice of marriage partners. Hurtig’s argument is well researched and solidly grounded in the political changes that occurred within marriage modes in the twelfth-century. However, she carries a solid argument to an insupportable level by claiming that new marriage modes gave women greater agency. As a twelfth-century woman writer, Marie de France would have been well aware that new, ecclesiastical views of marriage were just as restrictive to women as traditional secular ones.
In order to ground her argument, Hurtig provides a description of the political changes occurring within marriage during the twelfth century. She describes the secular model of marriage as a “marriage of convenience” that reinforces feudal society. In this form of marriage, noble women are used as capital to be traded for the increase of wealth and power. Until the twelfth-century, this mode of marriage was prevalent; the church and its priests had little to do with marriage. However, Hurtig explains, a new, ecclesiastical form of marriage was becoming more widespread throughout the twelfth century. She argues that Church models of marriage placed a higher value on personal choice of partners and consent. Further, she states that the medieval church recognized clandestine marriages. Therefore, if a couple engaged in a mutually consenting love affair outside of secular matrimony, they could be considered as a married couple.
Hurtig continues by applying these differing definitions of marriage to the text of “Le Fresne.” In the context of secular marriage, she argues, Le Fresne is Gurun’s concubine. But in the context of the consenting, freely choosing love of ecclesiastical marriage, Le Fresne and Gurun are man and wife.
She goes on to explore the ways in which both forms of marriage combine at the end of the lay. Le Fresne and Gurun, she points out, can not remain in their “clandestine” marriage, because as a feudal lord Gurun has the responsibility of entering into a secular marriage and producing an heir. Therefore secular notions are prevalent over ecclesiastical marriage modes, and Gurun enters into a marriage of convenience with La Codre. However, after the discovery of Le Fresne’s identity, she is able to engage in a marriage to Gurun that is a hybrid of ecclesiastical and secular forms. More importantly, according to Hurtig, Marie uses this combination of marriage forms as a subversive way to call for noblewomen’s free choice of marriage partners.
Hurtig’s exploration of “Le Fresne” through the lens of medieval marriage modes serves to ground the text within the politics of twelfth century society. The pull between Christian and secular forms of marriage parallels the tension between Christian and pagan ideals found in the chivalric hero.
However, Hurtig carries her argument beyond the realm of historical reality when she asserts that Marie uses the combination of religious and secular marriage traditions as a subtle celebration of women’s free choice. I would argue that her analysis of “Le Fresne” does not show the equal fusion of secular and ecclesiastical forms of marriage, but rather the continued dominance of one form over the other. Her analysis demonstrates that, within the lay, the ecclesiastical mode of marriage is only allowed to succeed in the limited function of reinforcing feudal norms. Le Fresne is only able to marry Gurun because the discovery of her noble birth allows her to become capital in the feudal marriage system. Her free choice is not only secondary to the dictates of the feudal system, but also serves to reinforce it.
It is indeed possible that Marie de France is advocating the freedom for women to choose their marriage partners. However, I would argue that in Le Fresne she establishes that, while the ecclesiastical form of marriage may give women greater agency, it remains secondary to feudal institutions. In addition, both forms of marriage were a part of a patriarchal tradition that robbed women of power.
Hurtig’s placement of Marie de France in the context of medieval political and social views of marriage is helpful to an understanding of the historical context of Marie and other medieval authors. Her exploration of the fusion of secular and ecclesiastical modes of marriage is useful, but at points impractical.
Rebecca Harpine
University of Mary Washington
10.18.06
Marriage and Adultery in Courtly Literature: Review 5
Kinoshita, Sharon. “Royal Pursuits: Adultery and Kingship in Marie de France’s
Equitan.” Essays in Medieval Studies, 16, West Virginia University
Press, 1999. 6 pages.
The lays of Marie de France are brimming with depictions of couples engaged in illicit love affairs. These separate lays are threaded together by Marie’s remarkably sympathetic portrayal of adulterous lovers. The lay of Equitan, however, deviates sharply from this pattern of compassion. The lusty king and his clandestine lover are not sympathetic characters; rather, they are punished for their extra-marital liaison by means of a horrific death. In her essay, “Royal Pursuits: Adultery and Kingship in Marie de France’s Equitan,” Sharon Kinoshita accounts for this apparent discrepancy in Marie’s representation of adultery on two levels; one simple and one complex. Simply, she states that Marie is moralizing about the consequences of plotting harms to others. Her complex argument, however, hinges on an exploration of the feudal role of kingship. She presents a coherent, insightful argument that is firmly grounded in the historical realities of medieval feudal society, as well as in the context of Marie’s other lays.
Marie’s departure from the charitable portrayal of forbidden lovers found throughout her other lays, Kinoshita argues, is justified by Equitan’s deviation from courtly literature’s traditional amorous pairing of unmarried knight and adulterous queen. Instead, it couples an unmarried king with the wife of his vassal. This reversal of marriage status, in conjunction with the king’s neglect of his feudal role, renders a happy ending for the couple impossible.
To facilitate her argument, Kinoshita examines Equitan within the context of medieval literature, contending that in the sexually objectifying discourse of courtly love, the central figure of male desire is the queen. While devotion to the queen would seem (at least superficially) to empower women, Kinoshita maintains that, in reality, it buttresses the patriarchal feudal system by manipulating obsessive male desire as a means to reinforce ideals of duty to the monarchy. This system only succeeds on the condition that the king does not participate in obsessive games of courtly desire.
Equitan, Kinoshita points out, does not adhere to this rule. He engages in unmeasured passion, allowing it to overcome his feudal duty to marry and beget an heir so that his kingdom may perpetuate. Therefore, Equitan’s sins would be less regrettable if he himself were married.
The marriage status of the seneschal’s wife also complicates the lay. Kinoshita presents the lady as a feudal social climber who is attempting to exchange one husband for another (5). By attempting to kill her husband and marry a higher ranking man, the lady lifts the king’s intemperate passion out of the realm of courtly playacting and into the realm of feudal reality, where it can not exist.
Kinoshita’s critical reading of Equitan is successful on several levels of criteria. It both exists within the parameters of historical reality, and is viable when juxtaposed with Marie’s other lays. A great deal of the scholarly literature I have found on Marie de France fails to reconcile historical context with literary context; Kinoshita, however, overcomes this difficulty.
However, despite the possibility of a cross-lay application of her argument, she does not extend it beyond her reading of Equitan. Though her essay is brief, it would have been beneficial if she had explored the nature of kingship and adultery in Marie’s other lays, rather than forcing the reader to do so on their own. Such a measure would have not only served to expand Kinoshita’s argument, but also to enhance its credibility with further textual support.
For example, Kinoshita’s argument can be successfully applied to Le Fresne, which shares many plot parallels with Equitan. Like Equitan, Gurun is an unmarried feudal king engaged in an illicit love affair. In her essay entitled “I do, I do: medieval models of marriage and choice of partner’s in Marie de France’s ‘Le Fresne,” Dolliann Margaret Hurtig asserts that Gurun allows his passion for a socially unavailable woman to impede his dynastic duty of begetting a legitimate heir (Hurtig 5). Her argument bears striking similarity to that of Kinoshita. The two primary dissimilarities between Equitan and Gurun serve to reinforce Kinoshita’s argument by justifying Marie’s sympathy to Gurun and Le Fresne. First and foremost, Gurun is willing to shed his intemperate passion and marry a suitable woman, thus fulfilling his feudal role. Second, Gurun’s lover is essentially an unmarried concubine, not the wife of one of his vassals; for, as Kinoshita states in her essay; “wives are exchangeable, but husbands are not.” This statement, of course, can only be applied when combined with the simple moral Kinoshita identifies of “not harming others,” because in Marie’s lays husbands are surely interchangeable; Guigemar is an excellent example.
This simple moral can be applied to Bisclavret as well. Like the seneschal’s wife, lady Bisclavret is punished because she attempts not only to exchange husbands, but also to harm her husband.
Therefore, Sharon Kinoshita’s reading of Equitan opens new possibilities for critical readings of Marie’s other lays. It is shrewdly grounded in the politics of feudal society and the context of Marie’s other lays; its biggest obstacle is its failure to expand on an excellent argument.
Rebecca Harpine
University of Mary Washington
09.29.06
Reflective Essay #1
My reflective essay, in all its glory:
Completing the reading on schedule has been a bit of a struggle, but so far I’ve been managing. I usually don’t have a text completely read until the Friday of the week in which we discuss it. Occasionally this hinders my understanding of class lecture. Hearing class discussion on plot events that I haven’t yet digested on my own alters my perception when I am reading. In some ways it biases me, preventing me from coming to new conclusions on my own. But at other times I am able to use the ideas discussed in class as springboards; they make me aware of elements in a text I wouldn’t otherwise have discovered. I hope to better manage my reading time for the remainder of the semester; this will allow me to more actively absorb lecture material.
Before we discussed “The Knight’s Tale” in class I read a few scholarly articles on Chaucer. Having a familiarity with some of the scholarly criticism on the text made class lecture more meaningful for me, because I was able to compare and contrast the theories found in these articles with ideas expressed in class. Therefore, one of my goals is to read scholarly literature on texts as we discuss them. This will also help me narrow down topics for my research portfolio.
Although we’ve only been using the blog system for a few weeks, it has been useful for me. Reading other people’s ideas is one of the most successful ways for me to generate and sort out my own ideas.
For me the most difficult aspect of reading medieval literature is its lack of psychological depth in terms of characterization. I haven’t had much prior experience with literature written before the eighteenth-century, and I’ve become very accustomed to critically analyzing texts in terms of character psychology. Because this isn’t as prevalent in medieval literature it is difficult for me to figure out how to approach the text. This is becoming easier as I am getting more and more exposure to medieval literature. It is also easier because we are now moving into Chaucer.
One interesting characteristic of medieval literature is the contradiction inherent in the notion of a Christian, chivalric hero. The pull between the notion of a hero as a man who violently fights and kills in the Greek epic tradition on one hand, and Christian ideals on the other, creates an absorbing tension. This conflict is apparent in all of the texts we have read, particularly “Gawain and the Green Knight.” I am looking forward to reading Chaucer over the next few weeks and exploring the end of the chivalric tradition.
My favorite medieval author to date is Marie de France. She stands out as the only female author we have read. Her lays were unique in their female perspective, including events important to the lives of women, such as marriage and childbirth.
I have begun the process of gathering articles for my research portfolio. I hope to find authors who will represent a diverse assortment of perspectives and critical approaches. However, I am most interested in critical articles that deal with gender, as this is one of my preferred topics and one I have the most experience with. One article I have found deals with gender in “Bisclavret;” “Woman-hating in Marie de France’s Bisclavret” by Paul Cremer, from the Romantic Review. In this article Cremer places “Bisclavret” in the context of woman-hating. It attracted me because I believe that, while his argument has some merit, Cremer himself uses gender bias to validate it. In addition, he fails to maintain his argument in the context of Marie’s other lays.
09.25.06
The Construction of Gender and Power in Marie de France’s Le Deus Amanz (Practical Criticism #1)
A good deal of this is a repitition of my previous post, but nevertheless here is the most recent version:
The nature of gender roles in medieval society dictated that men were to be active and women were to be passive in every aspect of a relationship. In courtly romances it is meant to be either humorous or disconcerting when a woman performs an active role. In Les Deus Amanz, Marie de France inverts this tradition. Throughout the lay she employs diction and figurative language as mechanisms to condemn the artificial construction of spiritual and sexual power in medieval gender relations.
The dialogue of the king’s daughter in lines 82-120 is particularly rich in figures and significant word meaning. When her lover requests that she elope with him, the maiden refuses him; “Beloved, I know it is impossible for you to carry me, for you are not strong enough. (83). Marie manipulates the word carry,” drawing on several related meanings for both literal and rhetorical effects. When the maiden advises her lover that “it is impossible for you to carry me,” she is literally signifying his physical inability to bear her up the side of the mountain. However, she also uses the word metaphorically in order to signify a figurative concept; the spiritual and moral responsibility of a couple to support and care for one another under the dictates of Christianized romantic love. This understanding of the word is enhanced when the reader recognizes the “mountain” that the lovers must climb not as a physical entity, but as a symbolic representation of the spiritual trials that the couple must overcome through faith in one another. Therefore the damsel’s statement has a symbolic meaning that, when decoded, indicates that she does not believe her lover will be able to spiritually care for her. For this reason he must take the potion and endure the trial of the mountain in order to prove his ability to “carry” his lover before she will consent to leave her father.
In addition, Marie uses the word to foreshadow the failure of the young man at his trial and the ultimate death of the two lovers. In a specific usage, the verb “to carry” indicates the act of “bearing a corpse to burial” (OED). Ironically, of all the functions of the verb, this is the only one that the young man fulfills; he carries his beloved to her death.
The maiden’s dialogue operates in close conjunction with lines 143-219 (in which the young man’s failure to carry his lover to the mountain top results in the two lovers’ death) to reveal the consequences of artificially constructed gender-based power structures. The king’s daughter recognizes that her lover will not be able to bear her up the mountain by himself, and so she assumes an active role in attempting to assist him; “the damsel made ready, fasting and refraining from eating in order to lose weight, for she wished to help her beloved” (84). Her physical actions are an external indication of her faith and willingness to engage in a spiritual partnership. Her lover, however, refuses to accept the maiden as anything other than a passive participant in the relationship, a literal “dead weight” on his back. He insists on possessing the only active role, refusing any assistance from the maiden; “The girl repeatedly begged him: ‘my love, drink your potion.’ Yet he would take no heed of her, and carried her onward in great pain (84). The young man is not able to relinquish his desire to yield singular power over the maiden. He must carry her without aid in order to reinforce a patriarchal reality in which men are active and women are passive, both spiritually and sexually. The fact that the young man physically carries the maiden’s body, the essence of her sexuality, reveals that he desires to be sexually dominant. This unwillingness to engage in a relationship based on spiritual and physical equality becomes his tragic flaw. According to the dictates of courtly romance he possesses every quality necessary for success in a Christian romantic hero, for he is both “noble and fair” (82.) If he had he been able to recognize his lover as an active equal, then the couple would have reached the top of the mountain and fulfilled the test of their faith. As result of his failure to do so, both he and his lover perish.
Marie also portrays the male dominated medieval power structure through the conflict between the tyrannical king and the young man over who will possess the maiden. This conflict is a result of patriarchal proprietary views towards women. The king claims ownership of his daughter and refuses to relinquish that ownership to another man. Marie indicates that this almost incestuous possession of a daughter is not necessarily considered socially acceptable; “many people reproached him for this, and even his own people blamed him (82.) Despite social norms, however, the king is able to maintain control of his daughter by asserting his patriarchal right to provide her (or not) with a husband of his choosing. In one sense, the word “father” can apply to any man who has control over a woman’s life, be he her biological father or her husband. Therefore if the maiden were to elope with her lover she would simply be trading one father for another. Her father and her lover vie for the maiden as if she were a possession, objectifying her and attempting to rob her of personal agency. The maiden endeavors to claim agency for herself, but the norms of society and her lover’s adherence to patriarchal realities prevent her from doing so.
Through the events, figures and language of Les Deus Amanz, Marie de France contends that men and women should wield equal power in relationships. Indeed, this is the only way in which they can successfully overcome the spiritual and physical trials of life.
09.17.06
Word Meaning, Figurative Language and Gender in “Les Deus Amanz”
I will probably use some combination of these ideas for my critical reading:
Throughout the lay of Les Deus Amanz, Marie de France consistently employs word choice and figurative language as mechanisms to both explore gender issues and ironically foreshadow future events.
The dialogue of the king’s daughter in lines 84-120 is particularly rich in figurative language and significant word meaning. When the count’s son requests that his lover elope with him, she refuses despite her love of him; “Beloved, I know it is impossible for you to carry me, for you are not strong enough. But if I went away with you, my father would be sad and distressed and his life would be an endless torment” (83.)
In this passage Marie manipulates the word “carry,” drawing on several related meanings for both literal and rhetorical effects. When the daughter tells her lover that “it is impossible for you to carry me,” she is literally signifying his physical inability to bear her up the side of the mountain. However, her conception of “carrying” also encompasses a figurative notion; the spiritual and moral responsibility of a couple to support and care for one another under the dictates of Christianized love. In the patriarchal medieval society this responsibility was largely considered to belong to the husband, who was responsible for his wife’s moral well-being. This understanding of the word “carry” is enhanced when the reader recognizes the mountain that the lovers must climb not as a physical entity, but as a symbolic representation of the spiritual trials that the couple must overcome through faith in one another. Therefore the damsel’s statement has a symbolic meaning (though it is unclear whether or not she is consciously aware of this second meaning) that, when decoded, indicates that she doesn’t believe her lover will be able to spiritually fulfill her. For this reason the count’s son must take the potion and go through a trial in order to prove his ability to “carry” his lover before she will consent to leave her father, a trial that he ultimately fails.
In addition, Marie uses the word to foreshadow the death of the two lovers. In a specific usage, the verb “to carry” indicates the act of “bearing a corpse to burial” (OED).
Ironically, of all the functions of the verb, this is the only one that the young man fulfills; he carries his beloved to her death.
I believe that in this lay, Marie de France is negatively commenting on medieval gender relations. The main problem faced by the two lovers is a result of patriarchal proprietary views towards women. The king claims ownership of his daughter and refuses to relinquish that ownership to another man. Marie indicates that this almost incestuous possession of a daughter is not necessarily considered socially acceptable; “many people reproached him for this, and even his own people blamed him (82.) Despite social norms, however, the king is able to maintain control of his daughter by asserting his patriarchal right to provide her (or not) with a husband of his choosing.
The main didacticism of the lay, however, is found in the young man’s failure to carry his lover to the top of the mountain. He does not recognize that the love he shares with the king’s daughter must be a spiritual partnership, but instead attempts to bear all responsibility himself.
The king’s daughter recognizes that her lover will not be able to bear her up the mountain by himself, and so she takes an active role in attempting to assist him; “the damsel made ready, fasting and refraining from eating in order to lose weight, for she wished to help her beloved” (84.) Her physical actions are an external indication of her faith and willingness to engage in a spiritual partnership. Her lover, however, is unwilling to accept the damsel as anything other than a passive participant in the relationship, a literal “dead weight” on his back. He insists on being the only active player, refusing any assistance; “The girl repeatedly begged him: ‘my love, drink your potion.’ Yet he would take no heed of her, and carried her onward in great pain.” (84.) Marie makes it clear that, had he been able to recognize his relationship as a spiritual partnership and accept his lover as an active equal in that partnership, then the couple would have reached the top of the mountain, fulfilled the test of their faith and been permitted to marry. But because the man can not release his patriarchal desire to be the only active participant, both he and his lover die.
Therefore, Marie de France argues that men and women should be equal partners in a relationship. This is a lesson that Erec too must learn in Chretien de Troyes’ Erec and Enide.
09.15.06
Altering Physical Appearance in “Bisclavret”
As we have discussed in class lecture, in Medieval literature a character’s physical appearance denotes their internal morality and worth.
In the lay of Bisclavret, external aspects not only indicate intrinsic value, but also alter to mirror shifts in a character’s moral state. In this way physiognomy works almost as a moral mood ring.
This is true in the case of Bisclavret’s wife. At the beginning of the lay she is described as “a woman who is worthy and attractive in appearance.” Because she is comely the reader is to assume that she is also virtuous; meaning, of course, that she is a dutiful wife.
After she has betrayed her husband and turned to her second lover, her moral state has deteriorated, and so her physical attractiveness must deteriorate as well. There must be an outward indication of her inward depravity. This is accomplished when Bisclavret tears off her nose. It is notable that it is the lady’s husband who destroys her physical beauty. Perhaps Marie de France is commenting on the reality that, in the courtly tradition, it is men who both diagnose feminine morality and punish lapses from it.
Also of interest is the fact that Bisclavret’s wife’s female descendents inherit her physical deformity; “many of the women in the family, I tell you truly, were born without noses and lived noseless.” The connection between external and internal implies that these women also inherited the moral depravity of their ancestor.
