December 8, 2006
Research Portfolio (Take Two): Review # 2
Kinoshita, Sharon. “Two for the Price of One: Courtly Love and Serial Polygamy in the Lais of Marie de France.” Arthuriana, 8:2 (1998 Summer), pp. 33-55.
Sharon Kinoshita’s essay examines Marie de France’s La Fresne and Eliduc through the historical lens of medieval marriage practices. More specifically, she discusses the ways in which these two lays portray the aristocratic practice of serial polygamy. She claims that in the courtly literary tradition, love triangles composed of one woman and two men lead to adultery. However, love triangles including one man and two women possess the alchemy necessary for “the courtly representation of serial polygamy” (34). Far from criticizing aristocratic practices of polygamy, Marie validates them as means by which her male protagonists are able to reject their original marriages in favor of “love.” Marie’s secular justification of polygamy, Kinoshita reveals, places her in stark opposition to newly developing ecclesiastical dictates that prescribed the interminability of marriage vows.
First, Kinoshita explores the role of polygamy in La Fresne. Gurun’s behavior throughout the lay, she argues, portrays disdain for ecclesiastical edicts. For example, Gurun stops at Le Fresne’s convent on his way home from a tournament. Kinoshita argues that the medieval church disdained the practice of tournaments. Therefore, Gurun’s participation indicates that he is in discord with Church law. Gurun further contradicts ecclesiastical practices by seducing La Fresne away from the convent where she is living as the abbess’ adopted daughter.
The culmination of Gurun’s rejection of ecclesiastical law comes when he rejects his first wife, La Codre, in favor of her sister, Le Fresne. According to ecclesiastical marriage conventions, there is no legitimate reason for the annulment of Gurun’s original marriage. Verbal consent alone forms an indissoluble marriage, with or without consummation. However, despite the ecclesiastical authenticity of Gurun’s marriage to La Codre, the archbishop grants an annulment. The archbishop’s gesture, Kinoshita argues, represents the yielding of Church authorities to feudal marriage practices. The lay is not critical in its portrayal of Gurun’s remarriage. Instead, it validates serial polygamy with the presence of love, as remarriage allows Gurun to be with his true love.
Kinoshita then examines the presence of serial polygamy in the lay of Eliduc, in which Marie again contradicts ecclesiastical dictates. In this lay, Eliduc’s first wife, Guideluec, decides to become a nun so that her husband may marry his new love. The idea that a man would remarry after his wife “takes the veil” was controversial in medieval church doctrine (48). Despite this controversy, however, Eliduc remarries, and feudal norms prevail over ecclesiastical marriage dictates. Again, Marie tacitly endorses serial polygamy in favor of love.
Kinoshita concludes her essay by stating that the feudal notion of serial polygamy placed women at a disadvantage, as it allowed men to discard their original wives.
On the surface, Kinoshita’s examination of Marie de France is reminiscent of Dolliann Margaret Hurtig’s essay, “I do, I do”: medieval models of marriage and choice of partners in Marie de France’s ‘Le Fraisne.’” Both scholars discuss marriage in the Lais in terms of medieval modes of marriage and the new Church role in diagnosing marriage procedures. Both cite the same historical material, and both engage with the text of Le Fresne. However, they are arguing in opposite directions. Hurtig claims that Marie’s lay favors the ecclesiastical mode of marriage, as it afforded women greater agency in choosing their partners. In contrast, Kinoshita argues that Marie favors secular modes of marriage, as they are more permissive of love.
Personally, I would place myself on Kinoshita’s side of the discussion. While Marie does indeed frame Le Fresne around two disparate modes of marriage, she ultimately champions secular marriage practices. While her essay predates Hurtig’s, Kinoshita’s analysis serves to repudiate many of Hurtig’s conclusions. For example, Kinoshita states that new, ecclesiastical edicts rendered marriage indissoluble. Therefore, if Marie were portraying the trumping of ecclesiastical marriage practices over secular marriage practices, then she would not have allowed the annulment of Gurun and Eliduc’s original marriages.
I have only one significant criticism of Kinoshita’s work. In her introduction, she briefly mentions that, in courtly literature, love triangles involving one woman and two men lead to adultery rather than to serial polygamy. This fact alone does not necessarily inform us as to Marie’s attitude towards women, as her lays are overwhelmingly sympathetic in their portrayal of adulterous wives. However, it does indicate that secular marriage practices served to disadvantage women. Similarly, in her conclusion, Kinoshita states that the feudal nobility practiced serial polygamy at the expense of self-sacrificing women, such as La Fresne and Guideluec. Kinoshita is silent about one very essential question. If Marie favors secular modes of marriage over ecclesiastical modes of marriage, and if secular modes of marriage disempower women, then what statement is Marie making about the role of women in feudal society?
Rebecca Harpine
University of Mary Washington
December 7, 2006
Research Portfolio (Take Two): Review # 3
Barban, Judith. “The Making of the Man: Woman as Consummator in the Lais of
Marie de France.” South Carolina Modern Language Review, 1:1 (2002
Winter). 18-28
In her Lais, Marie de France presents a wide cast of women, all of whom differ in character and circumstance. At first consideration, the reader finds it difficult to imagine the parallels in this diverse collection of female characters. In her article, published in the inaugural volume of the South Carolina Modern Language Review, Judith Barban explores this dilemma, attempting to identify a unifying factor linking the female personas of the Lais. The awkward solution she uncovers lies in Marie’s construction of the female role in courtly love. In the male-female relationships depicted in the Lais, Barban argues, women serve as “consummators” who fulfill incomplete men, thus initiating them into manhood.
Barban proceeds to apply her theory to several of Marie’s individual lays, beginning with Guigemar. The knight Guigemar, she argues, stands as a flawed man because “he is indifferent to love” (19), as symbolized by the curse of the white hind. Because Guigemar is an incomplete man, woman must complete him. His fulfillment is set in motion when his boat carries him to the tower of his imprisoned lover. The sufferings of Guigemar’s lady, Barban argues, transform him into a complete man and allows him to overcome the curse of the white hind.
The next lay Barban analyzes is La Fresne. La Fresne’s sacrificial act of spreading her brocade on her lover’s marriage bed, Barban argues, initiates the events that will ensure the happiness of all of the characters.
Barban continues enumerating examples of the “consummating” acts of Marie’s female characters. In Lanval, the lady’s act of “dropping her cloak of purity” (23) saves her lover from death, and in Yonec, the mother’s act of bestowing her husband’s sword on her son transforms him into an honorable knight. Similarly, in Eliduc, the self-sacrifice Eliduc’s wife, Guideluec, allows Eliduc to share true, pure love with Guilliadun.
Judith Barban engages in an ambitious attempt to link the Lais of Marie de France through an exploration of the role of women. While her claim is credible, it presents a few shortcomings.
Barban utilizes ample textual evidence in order to back her assertion that women serve as “consummators” of manhood in the Lais of Marie de France. However, her lay-by-lay analysis seems awkward at points; as if she is forcing the text to stretch in directions that it does not naturally bend. The structure of her textual support seems self-conscious of this shortcoming. She first presents her strongest evidence, a thorough close reading of Guigemar that expertly supports her thesis. However, the remainder of her textual examples becomes more and more problematic in descending order. For example, in her reading of La Fresne she claims that La Fresne’s selfless act of spreading her brocade over her lover’s marriage bed initiates a “reversal of fortune for all concerned” (21). While it is true that La Fresne initiates action, it is unclear how this action “fulfills” her husband. Indeed, this flaw is true for the whole of Barban’s argument. She is successful in proving that women are the major initiators of action in the lays, but fails to prove that they “complete” their men.
In her title, Barban asserts that she will discuss women as “consummators.” Her choice of the word “consummator” implies that the women in Marie’s Lais initiate actions through sex. However, Barban often deviates from the sexual role of women. For example, she asserts that in the lay of Yonec, the mother serves as “woman-consummator of her son (23). Barban’s reading does not seem to indicate that the mother’s act of initiating her son into manhood is in anyway sexual. Perhaps we can find the sexual nature of her “consummation” in the fact that the action of the lay begins with her sexual act of adultery. Perhaps we can even read the sword she gives to her son as a phallic representation. Barban never clarifies, but her reading indicates that she views the mother’s actions as purely asexual.
In addition, Barban glaringly omits certain of Marie’s other lays. Could her argument, for instance, be successfully applied to Bisclavret, in which the woman initiates her husband’s animal state?
Judith Barban’s article provides a valuable theory for linking the many female characters in the Lais of Marie de France. I believe that her argument would be stronger if she narrowed it and engaged in a more in-depth reading of the role of “woman-consummator” in Guigemar alone, rather than applying her theory to the entire body of Marie’s lays.
Rebecca Harpine
University of Mary Washington
October 20, 2006
Marriage and Adultery in Courtly Literature Review 1
Creamer, Paul. “Women-hating in Marie de France’s Bisclavret.” The Romantic
Review. 93, 2002. 259-275.
Marie de France’s lay, Bisclavret, is difficult to understand due to the fact that its rather vicious portrayal of Lady Bisclavret does not seem to coincide with the sympathetic treatment of women found in Marie’s other lays. In his essay, “Women-hating in Marie de France’s Bisclavret Paul Creamer argues that this lay reveals a deep misogyny that is particularly disturbing due to the fact that Marie is a female author.
Creamer states that Bisclavret centers around three different creatures; man, woman, and werewolf. He goes on to assert that the female “being” is judged by one lonely representative; Lady Bisclavret. Therefore, all of woman-kind is condemned by the malicious behavior of a single character.
Creamer asserts that the relationships between these three different types of “beings” are defined by the categories of “woman vs. man,” ‘woman vs. men,” and “woman vs. beast.” Therefore in all three categories of relationship, woman is the “other,” or the evil opponent.
Creamer devotes a great deal of time to proving that Bisclavret in his animal form does not pose a violent threat to his wife. Instead, he argues that the true villain of the lay is the baroness. It is woman vs. man, in this case wife vs. husband. When she plots to steal her husband’s clothes and condemn him to an eternity in his animal state, the baroness is engaging in the malicious and unjustifiable sin of plotting harm against an innocent man.
Creamer then goes on to explain the lay’s portrayal of “woman vs. men.” He argues that the king’s kind, accepting treatment of Bisclavret in his animal form reveals Marie’s preference of brotherly love over married love.
The “woman vs. animal” aspect of Creamer’s argument is fulfilled when the animal Bisclavret attacks his wife, ripping off her nose. Therefore, in all three categories of interaction and dispute within the lay, the woman is the loser.
Creamer ends his examination of woman-hating in Bisclavret by making the vehement assertion that Marie de France was a woman-hater.
Creamer’s exploration of woman-hating in Marie de France is problematic. Though he finds adequate, well supported evidence for an exploration of woman-hating in Bisclavret, his argument can not extend beyond the parameters of that particular text. The notion of women hating finds no support in the context of Marie’s other lays, which are generally sympathetic to the everyday plights and trials of women. Perhaps Creamer’s argument would gain greater credence if he were able to offer a feasible explanation as to why Marie’s attitude towards women in Bisclavret is so drastically different from that of her other lays. In addition, as Creamer states in his essay, there is only one female character in Bisclavret. It is impossible to judge Marie’s attitudes towards women based on such a small sampling. In order to correct this deficiency, we must turn to Marie’s other lays in order to gain a proper appreciation of her portrayals of women. By doing so we discover that Marie is not a self-hating woman, but a writer whose works celebrate women in a revolutionary, foreword thinking way.
Personally, I believe that a more adequate answer to the problem of treatment of women in Bisclavret can be found by reading it through the lens provided by Sharon Kinoshita in her essay, “Royal Pursuits: Adultery and Kingship in Marie de France’s Equitan.”
Kinoshita argues that, on a simple level, Marie de France is unsympathetic to the lovers in Equitan because they plot harm to others. Therefore, on a straightforward and moralizing level, perhaps Marie de France is unsympathetic to the baroness in Bisclavret because of her harmful behavior towards her husband.
Creamer’s argument mirrors the reader’s initial reaction upon first reading Bisclavret. He provides a thorough catalogue of instances of woman-hating in Bisclavret. However, he never answers the essential question of why Marie de France’s lay seems so negative towards women.
Rebecca Harpine
University of Mary Washington
October 19, 2006
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
October 18, 2006
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
September 25, 2006
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.
September 17, 2006
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.
September 15, 2006
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.
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