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
Marriage and Adultery in Courtly Literature: Review 2
Jost, Jean E. “May’s Mismarriage of Youthe and Elde: The Poetics of Sexual Desire
in Chaucer’s Merchant’s Tale.” Representations of the Feminine in
the Middle Ages. Academia Press, 1993. 117- 137.
Jean E. Jost’s essay examines the conflict between male and female sexuality apparent in Chaucer’s Merchant’s Tale, throughout which male sexual desire is privileged at the expense female sexual desire. Jost argues that May attempts (though ultimately fails) to take her revenge by asserting sexual agency and fulfilling her own sexual desires through an act of infidelity.
Through an examination of Januarie’s opening speech outlining his conjugal desires, Jost reaches the conclusion that Januarie’s decision to take a wife is motivated by sexual desire; he does not want a good wife, but a sexually appealing one. However, Jost identifies the flaw in Januarie’s plan; he does not consider that, as an older man, he might not be able to sexually fulfill a younger wife. Indeed, it soon becomes clear that he doesn’t care if the young May experiences sexual pleasure. His actions on his wedding night, methodically catalogued by Jost, are calculated to enhance his own sexual experience by any means necessary. He never considers the physical needs of his wife; she is the passive receptacle of his sexual needs. By treating May as a passively sexual being and valuing his own masculine sexuality over her feminine sexuality, Januarie robs her of sexual agency. Jost associates May’s lack of sexual agency with her lack of verbal agency.
Joss identifies the moment at which May reads Damien’s note as the pivotal turning point of the lay. Before May reads the note, she argues, she is entirely a passive being; but from that moment on she becomes increasingly active and assertive.
While May is an entirely passive partner in her marriage to Januarie, she becomes the active, dominant partner in her relationship to Damien. However, Jost argues that even in her relationship with Damien, May is denied sexual fulfillment by the return of her husband’s eyesight. Jost argues that this is due to the Merchant’s reluctance to admit and value female sexuality. May can not be allowed to fulfill her sexual dominance by sating her sexual desire with Damien, and so Pluto must intervene.
Jost’s exploration of the struggle for domination between male and female sexuality is skilled and well supported by textual evidence. Her argument that Januarie exerts his sexual desire at the expense of May can not be denied.
But I would argue that there are a few difficulties hindering Jost’s argument. First, she states that May exerts sexual dominance over Damien. It is true that May makes all of the arrangements to meet Damien in the garden. However, Damien is the instigator of their affair; May passively accepts his sexual attentions without a thought. This would lead us to believe not that May is the active sexual partner, but that she herself does not value her own sexuality. It seems that, for May, sex is something carelessly given to a man, not to be valued as a means of agency.
Further, Jost’s analysis would indicate that May and Damien are not successful in their affair. In my own reading, I interpreted the pear tree scene as an indication that May was pregnant, and that the child might be Damien’s.
My major objections to Jost’s analysis lie mainly in her reading of May as a would-be sexual conqueror. I have difficulty digesting the argument that May asserts her agency through her sexual deviation. First, it assumes that a woman’s power is only derived from her sexuality. Agency originating from corporeal revenge is no agency at all. I would argue that sexual power can only be derived from active sexual equality. Second, reading May as a sexually active character does not mesh with the fact that May has absolutely no verbal agency throughout the Merchant’s Tale. How then can the reader judge her actions on any terms? We rarely hear her speak, and more importantly, the narrator never describes to us her thoughts, emotions, or reactions to plot events. We hear of Januarie’s eagerness for conjugality and we observe his enraged reaction when he discovers May’s infidelity; in short, we are psychologically acquainted with him. Even Damien is given a psychological spotlight; we see his emotionality in his discourse with May. May herself, however, is a sadly flat character. Even after she reads Damien’s first love missive, and even after her husband accuses her of infidelity, she never betrays an emotion or reaction. May’s lack of agency is not surprising when viewed within the contextual frame of The Merchant’s Tale, which is narrated by a misogynistic man. I don’t believe that the notion of May’s sexual agency can exist without her verbal and physical agency.
Jost’s analysis of The Merchant’s Tale is one of the most interesting and successful I have read in the course of my research, despite my difficulty accepting the portrayal of May as a woman attempting to achieve sexual dominance over her husband.
Rebecca Harpine
University of Mary Washington
October 19, 2006
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
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
Rebecca's Courtly Blog 