December 9, 2006
Research Portfolio (Take Two): Review # 1
Ramey, Lynn Tarte. “Representations of Women in Chrétien’s Erec et Enide: Courtly
Literature or Misogyny?” Romanic Review, 84:4 (1993 Nov), pp. 377-86.
Lynn Tarte Ramey argues that Chretien de Troyes’ Erec and Enide validates misogyny and the suppression of women within marriage. By placing Chretien in historical context, Ramey concludes that his Arthurian romance serves as a cautionary tale to Chrétien’s largely female medieval audience.
Ramey begins her essay with a survey of major critical reactions to Erec and Enide. She claims that scholars tend to read into the tale a positive message about marital unity and communication. Ramey rejects this optimistic interpretation, arguing that we should discontinue categorizing Erec and Enide as a tale of courtly love. Instead, she argues, we should view the tale for what it is… an intentionally misogynistic, moralizing tract. Ramey points out that as a court writer, Chrétien’s audience was primarily composed of women. Therefore, it is possible that he exploited his role as court writer in order to spread misogynistic lessons about female passivity to the court ladies who were reading his texts. Within the tale, Ramey uncovers two distinct types of misogyny. One encompasses negative stereotypes of women perpetuated in the Middle Ages, and the other warns against the tyranny of female rulers.
According to Ramey, Chretien invests Enide with characteristics that medieval anti-feminism viewed as negative. She is sensual, beautiful, and is above all “defined by the speech act” (378). She characterizes the traits that an ideal medieval wife should not possess. Enide’s most unforgivable sin, her self-expression, initiates the central quest of the tale. Throughout their journey, Erec continually silences his wife, despite the fact that she speaks only to warn her husband of danger. Ramey argues that through Erec’s gagging of Enide’s verbal expression, Chretien warns women that their verbal agency is unacceptable under any circumstance.
Further, Ramey believes that Enide fulfills the medieval stereotype of a conniving woman, in that she manipulates the tale’s villain, the count. Even though her cunning saves her husband’s life, the fact remains that she is a deceiving female.
The misogyny apparent in Erec and Enide, Ramey claims, is a reaction to the increasing power of women in the Middle Ages. At this time, the Crusades carried away male landowners and left their property under the management of women. In addition, female rulers, such as Eleanor of Aquitaine, gained political power. All of these developments threatened men with the loss of power and the increased agency of women. Therefore, by viewing Erec and Enide in the context of the turbulent political and social changes of the Middle Ages, Ramey determines that it is a misogynistic attempt to maintain masculine power.
Ramey’s interpretation of Chretien de Troyes’ Erec and Enide bears striking similarity to that of Peter S. Noble, found in his 1982 book, Love and Marriage in Chretien de Troyes. My objection to Noble’s argument applies with equal force to Ramey’s argument. In my own reading of Erec and Enide, I believe that Chretien is generally sympathetic in his portrayal of Enide. His harsher judgment falls on Eric, who must learn to accept Enide as an active participant in their marriage.
It is interesting that Ramey’s interpretation of Chretien aligns so thoroughly with Noble’s interpretation, particularly as an eleven-year gap separates their respective publications. In addition, in her essay Ramey indicates that current scholarship views Erec and Enide as a positive tale of gender-relations. Does Ramey’s interpretation represent a backwards glance to earlier literary scholarship?
In defining Erec and Enide as a misogynistic text, Ramey presents a problematic contradiction. She asserts that we cannot categorize Erec and Enide as a text of courtly love because it is misogynistic. This statement implies that Ramey does not believe that courtly love is misogynistic. However, courtly love is inherently misogynistic. The game of courtship espoused by courtly love turned women into objects, valued only for their sexuality. I believe that if Chrétien’s tale frowns on the objectification of women. Early in the progression of the narration, Erec values Enide only for the sexual gratification he receives from his body. By the end of the tale, however, he learns that he must respect her verbal agency as well.
Rebecca Harpine
University of Mary Washington
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
Research Portfolio (Take Two): Review # 4
Pugh, Tison. “Queer Pandarus? Silence and Sexual Ambiguity in Chaucer’s Troilus
and Criseyde.” Philological Quarterly, 80:1 (2001 Winter), pp. 17-35.
Tison Pugh analyzes Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde from the perspective of queer criticism, opening his essay with a loaded question: “is Pandurus queer?”(17). He tempers this question with a disclaimer, admitting that he cannot prove that the homosocial relationship between Pandarus and Troilus is unequivocally homosexual. However, he argues that through ambiguities within the text, Chaucer leaves open possibilities for a queer reading of Pandarus’s character.
Pugh begins by examining medieval conceptions of sexuality. He identifies a parallel between the literary relationship of Pandarus and Troilus and the historical relationship of King Richard II and his councilor, Robert de Vere, who were widely assumed to be engaging in a homosexual relationship. Pugh argues that Chaucer would have been aware of this relationship, and is perhaps allegorically referencing it in his portrayal of the relationship between a nobleman and a “non-heteronormative” advisor (18). Pugh continues his exploration of medieval sexuality, noting that it is inappropriate to apply contemporary understandings of sexuality to a medieval text. In the Middle Ages, he reveals, sexuality was not as closely associated with identity as it is today; homosexuality and heterosexuality were behaviors and not labels. Therefore, medieval views towards sexuality make it possible for us to read homosexual meaning into male-male relationships that we might otherwise view as asexual.
Next, Pugh discusses the ways in which Pandarus’s dialogue and, more importantly the gaps in his dialogue, reinforce a queer reading of his character. For textual support, he turns to Pandarus’s account of his beloved in Book I. Pandarus’s dialogue, Pugh argues, provides very little information about Pandarus’s lover, leaving his identity a mystery. Through this textual hole, Chaucer allows readers to construct the identity of Pandarus’s love for ourselves. In other words, ambiguities in the text allow us, if we so desire, to imagine Pandarus’s lover as homosexual.
Pugh also explores the ways in which Pandarus’s gaze serves to construct him as queer. Pandarus’s gaze, Pugh argues, not only reveals Pandarus’s homosexual desire for Troilus, but is also the means by which he fulfills that desire; he sates his lust for Troilus through voyeurism, watching the love affair unfold between Troilus and Criseyde.
Pugh’s argument concludes with the assertion that Pandarus’s “polymorphous” sexuality serves to highlight the poem’s central meaning, the “ephemerality of human love” (24); Pandarus’s homosexual love fails Troilus just as Criseyde’s heterosexual love fails him.
Pugh ends his argument by “laying down a friendly challenge” to those who deny the possibilities of a queer reading; he asks them to “prove that Pandarus is heterosexual” (35). He is confident, however, that the textual ambiguities within the text make a conclusive reading of Pandarus’s sexuality impossible.
Tison Pugh’s queer analysis of Pandarus lacks decisiveness; he refuses to claim that either Pandarus or his behavior is homosexual. His analysis primarily proves one point; that the text of the poem is ambiguous enough to support either a heterosexual or a homosexual reading of Pandarus’s character. This being true, it would have been nice if Pugh had more assertively argued the case for a queer Pandarus, rather than simply awakening the possibility.
However, Pugh is to be credited for engaging with a queer reading of Pandarus; his discussion was needed. Very few of the scholarly articles I have read are willing to even consider the possibility that Pandarus harbors homosexual desire for Troilus. Many scholars summarily and irrationally dismiss the textual evidence that Pandarus is gay simply because they find the idea personally distasteful. For this reason, I wish that Pugh were more assertive in both his argument and his choice of language. It seems rather ludicrous to be temperate when the other side is so vocal.
Despite the overall mildness of Pugh’s argument, he is generally very adept at supporting it. I found his discussion of textual ambiguity to be particularly compelling, and to merit application beyond a queer reading of Pandarus. For example, in class lecture we discussed the possibility that Pandarus is a representation of Chaucer, and that Pandarus’s “pandering” serves as a textual reference to Chaucer’s alleged role in kidnapping. If Pandarus is a self-portrait, it is notable that the silence and ambiguity regarding his lover mirrors the silence and ambiguity surrounding this historical event in Chaucer’s life.
Pugh’s queer analysis of Troilus and Criseyde opens the possibility for a homosexual reading of Pandarus’s character. However, his argument is far too conciliatory, refusing to take a firm stand.
Rebecca Harpine
University of Mary Washington
December 6, 2006
Research Portfolio (Take Two): Review # 5
Mann, Jill. Feminizing Chaucer. Cambridge: D.S. Brewer, 2002. 194 Pages.
In her critical study, Jill Mann explores the works of Geoffrey Chaucer through the lens of modern feminist criticism. Her analysis encompasses several Chaucerian texts, and balances primarily on the assertion that Chaucer’s perception of morality is conspicuously feminine. Mann spreads her study over five chapters, each of which tackles a specific aspect of Chaucerian femininity. For example, one chapter focuses on antifeminism in Chaucer, while another discusses portrayals of betrayed (and betraying) women. Although her work deals primarily with women, Mann does not condemn the concept of “masculinity” to the realm of binary opposition. Rather, she stresses the necessity of understanding cultural notions of masculinity as a means of fully appreciating the significance of femininity. Therefore, the gendered title of her book does not preclude an examination of masculinity in Chaucer, but requires it.
Mann’s brief introduction places Chaucer within both a historical and literary context. Dominant medieval attitudes, she argues, served to polarize women as “Eves” or “Marys;” victims or shrews. Mann traces the origin of these paradoxical feminine roles to classical literature, specifically in Ovid’s Heroides and Jerome’s Against Jovinian. Further, she identifies these two texts as influential source material for Chaucer. Therefore, Chaucer is writing within a historical and literary tradition that simplistically represents women as “good” or “bad.” Mann contends that Chaucer does not attempt to break free of traditional representations and meanings associated with femininity. Instead, she argues that Chaucer normalizes women, depicting them as moral centers of gravity.
Mann weaves minor references to masculinity (as it relates to femininity) throughout her book. However, it is only in the final chapter, entitled “The Feminized Hero,” that she exclusively addresses the subject of Chaucerian masculinity. In this section, Mann approaches gender in terms of actions rather than biology; she isolates certain “feminine behaviors” and “masculine behaviors,” contending that Chaucer’s perception of an ideal male hero is a “feminized hero.”
Mann begins her analysis in this section by noting the quantitative discrepancy between male and female heroes in Chaucerian texts. This incongruity becomes particularly apparent in the Canterbury Tales, in which only female characters personify morality. Therefore, Mann first turns to Troilus and Criseyde to provide textual support for her thesis, as “it is only in Troilus that a single male consciousness becomes the central locus of poetic meaning” (129). The “poetic meaning” which Mann uncovers in Troilus and Criseyde is the transience of human pleasure. Continuing, Mann argues that Chaucer meticulously constructs Troilus as an admirable man, as the reader can only accept the “poetic meaning” of the poem if they understand that Troilus is a “true” hero who achieved “true” happiness. Chaucer achieves this benevolent portrayal of Troilus, Mann states, by bestowing Troilus with traditional feminine virtues. The most important and recognizable of these “feminine” qualities is Troilus’s characterization as passive victim. Through a feminized characterization, Mann aligns Troilus with Chaucer’s patiently suffering female heroes, such as Constance and Griselda. Mann maintains that, like Constance and Griselda, Troilus serves as a moral focal point. However, she is careful to disclaim the notion that Troiulus’ feminized behavior emasculates him, cataloguing several points in the text that portray his manly valor.
Mann presents further textual examples from The Canterbury Tales, the most notable of which comes from The Knight’s Tale. She presents Theseus, who is, like Troilus, a valorous fighter, as a feminized hero. Unlike Troilus, Theseus’s feminization generates from his pity rather than his passiveness. Mann provides several instances in the text of the tale in which Theseus submits to pity at the behest of women. For example, he takes pity on the procession of widows, and takes pity on Arcite and Palamon due to the tearful pleas of Emelye. Therefore, Mann maintains, Chaucer portrays ideal masculinity as a fusion of traditional masculine and feminine roles. His moral heroes are skilled in the traditional pursuits of manliness, most particularly fighting. However, they also possess distinctive qualities that traditionally fall under the label of “feminine.”
Jill Mann’s provides a thorough, feminist analysis of Chaucer, backing her arguments with ample textual support and connections to classical literature. However, the most remarkable aspect of her study is not her analysis of the feminine, but her willingness to engage with ideas of masculinity. Often, scholars analyzing literary texts based on gender tend to forget that the concept of gender encompasses both the masculine and the feminine. It is commendable that Mann, despite her deliberate fixation on the feminine, nevertheless attempts to reveal the connections between masculinity and femininity. Her final chapter on masculinity reads rather like an afterthought, but this is excusable because her study intentionally focuses on women.
Mann’s reading of femininity in Chaucer is slightly troubling. She presents Chaucer as revolutionary in his approach to women, arguing that he manipulates traditional female roles in order to present women as moral bearers of ideology. However, how can we view Chaucer as an innovator in his portrayal of women if he is embracing harmful gender stereotypes, even for the lofty purpose of ideology? The central female characters of The Canterbury Tales are deeply problematic; as Mann notes, suffering passivity is their primary characteristic. I would disagree that Chaucer manipulates ideals of feminine passivity in order to normalize a “feminine morality.” I believe that Chaucer instead employs passive female characters like Griselda and Constance in order to reveal the harmful effects of artificially constructed gender roles.
Similarly, Mann’s analysis of Troilus gives pause. She maintains that Chaucer makes Troilus admirable by bestowing him with feminine passivity. This theory hinges on the assumption that Chaucer intends for the reader to view Troilus in a favorable light, ignoring the possibilities for a satiric or ironic reading of Troilus’s character. Mann skillfully proves the ways in which Troilus is feminized, but I hesitate to accept to her assumption that he is a “hero.” Certainly, he provides the psychological core of the poem, but his narcissism eradicates any notion that he is a hero.
Feminizing Chaucer is a thorough, feminist evaluation of Chaucer. Mann’s argument provides continuity between several Chaucerian texts, but I disagree with her evaluation of Chaucer’s intentions.
Rebecca Harpine
University of Mary Washington
Rebecca's Courtly Blog 