Otherness another way

What I find interesting about Plaint of Nature has to be the fact that in a world of ambiguity regarding the Self and the Other, Allan of Lille lays it all on the line. In no uncertain terms, he gives us the Other. Up until now, it’s been easy to pluck a female character or a Saracen character out of the text and make an argument for her Otherness. However, with Plaint of Nature, since Allan of Lille’s main concern is the unnaturalness of male homosexuality, the femaleness of a female is not the source of Otherness.

Of course, with Allan of Lille’s anthropomorphized Nature being female, the prose navigates rather interesting terrain. For one thing, Nature, in addition to creating the world for God, also rules man. Here, the feminine is subject rather than predicate. In the chain of command, God’s still at the top, but now we have a woman commanding all men, directly rather than indirectly as the maidens of Parzival command. Maybe I’m reading into Nature being a woman a little too much, but Allan of Lille views women as weak, most likely subscribes to the belief that God also thinks women are morally weaker, and yet, in view of all that, Nature, as a woman, has dominion over men? I suppose the idea of a woman ruling the workings of the earth is akin to the idea of a woman ruling a household’s domestic interworkings. While God ultimately rules in the political arena, the woman has authority when it comes to ruling the household.

Ascribing deities with such humble, earthly qualities is suspect. Although, to me, Nature’s humanity is debatable. Her fantastical appearance and her descent from the heavens both seem to indicate her otherworldliness. Allan of Lille does not consider her human, but he does emphasize the fact that she is a maiden. He takes pains to describe features. “Her neck, quite normal in length and moderately slender, prevented its nape from being close-wed to the shoulders… The gentle curve of her flanks, impressed with the stamp of due moderation, brought the beauty of her whole body to perfection.” (Allan of Lille 75) She is a semi-divine being of nature, but Nature here is inviting and alluring.

Which makes me wonder, why does Allan of Lille make her so alluring? Although Nature creates everything around her and has the appearance of a human, I don’t get the impression that she is human. Any temptation caused by her beauty would be a crime against nature, since, as a non-human, she can’t have procreative sex with the writer, a human. A sexual at initiated on Nature, in this sense, would be an act against Nature.

More than the physical act against nature, Allan of Lille seems most alarmed by the notion of the “unman[ned] man,” the superior sex, the man, taking on the appearance and the traits of the weaker sex, the woman, but Allan of Lille seems to have a relatively hard time keeping it together. Nature even has to revive him after his swoon. The writer, in this case, is acted upon by Nature, who assumes a more aggressive role in the interaction. In this telling scene, the writer is unmanned by the appearance of a woman. Even taking into consideration the cultural difference, that men can swoon without automatically assuming a feminized role, Nature still takes away his subject position and assumes it for herself. Perhaps Allan of Lille becomes, at least to a small degree, the Other he rants against.

The Feminized, Fetishized, Totally Awesome Gral

In a previous post there was a great discussion of the Gral as both a male and female

character. I'm going to take the Gral as feminine and run with it a little bit, to discuss

how the Gral functions as a fetish (in the Freudian sense) for the male characters.

There's a lot of the feminine associated with the Gral in chapter nine. The Gral is

protected by a "Christian progeny bred to a pure life", which echos the basic chivalric code

of "pure" (ok, well, at least Christian) knights charged with serving women. (232) The

function of women is to "observe restraint...be well proofed.' (15-16) So "pure" men and

women serve the Gral and the Gral, much like women, keeps away from everyone but the one

destined for it. It's a Gral very concerned with fidelity, I feel.

The Gral, however, I think is much more fetishized than women. There are literally hundreds

of women in this poem, but only one Gral which serves as a desire-object for both men and

women. I think specifically for Parzival, the Gral serves almost as an obsession or a

fetish.

A fetish is, in basic Freudian terms, what you need to function when your desired outcome

does not match up with your expected outcome. Actually, you develop a fetish when you discover that your female lover doesn't have a penis, but in more general terms. A fetish is what you focus your energies on when you just cannot deal. A fetish is also exclusively the realm of men.

The Gral is what Parzival needs to function within the text. When he loses sight of the

Gral, he literally drops off the page, unable to do anything but sit with a hermit for years

on end. When he first sees it, he is so stunned, so preoccupied, and so unable to think that he lets it slip through his grasp. It then functions as his only driving force, what he uses to get himself through his ordeals.

This isn't mean to refute the other post, but add to it. Perhaps the Gral is the ultimate, fetishized feminine? The fetishized masculine? I don't know where I fall, personally, between thinking of its characterization as female or male, but it's certainly alive in a way objects can be only through fetishes.

The Gral: A Character or an Object of Desire?

I may be reading a bit into this, but the Gral seems to take on a life of its own throughout the rest of the take. Feminine and masculine charateristics can also be contributed to the Gral. In other words, the Gral becomes as much of a character in the second half of the text as Gawan or Parzival.

As a feminine character, the Gral serves as an object to be desired. Many of the female's throughout the text are assessed on their ability to capture a man's heart. Women are an object of desire. Yet, the Gral is the ultimate object of desire. As readers, we, along with Parzival, "meet" the Gral in Chapter 5. "Upon a green achmardi she bore the consumation of heart's desire, its root and its blossoming - a thing called 'the Gral' paradisal, transcending all earthy perfection!" (p. 125). We learn that it is " a thing" which gives one anything one desires. Chapter 5 stresses the fact that the gral is an object. Not only an object to worship, but an object to desire. Just as Gawan cannot go on until he has won the favor and love of Orgeluse, Parzival can not go on with his life until he has won the favor of the Gral. Gawan's proclamation that "The Duchess Orgeluse must have mercy on me if I am to stay a happy man" echoes that of Parcival's when he tells the hermit (Trevrizent), "My deepest distress is for the Gral ... After that it is for my wife ... I languish and pine for them both" (p.296 and 239). Both the Gral and feminine love are objects to be desired. Both men "pine" over these objects. Therefore, the Gral can be viewed as an object and a almost a female character.

On the other hand, the Gral functions mainly as a masculine character. As we learn from the history of the Gral, it only chooses men to protect it. "The Gral chooses lofty servitors, thus knights are appointed to guard it endowed with all the virtures that go with chastity" (p.251). Women (virgins) care for it just as they do when knights enter their domain. This hospitality is similar to that which we have seen throughout the text when women unarm, feed, and prepare a bed for the wandering knight. It is also important to note, the wording of the above line. "The Gral chooses," indicates that the Gral has a mind of its own. Numerous times, Parzival indicates that the Gral has alluded him, as if it had the ability to escape from him. Moreover, just as Arthur has his Table Round, the Gral has its own company. Trevrizent explains to Parzival that there is a "Gral Company." He states, "As I say, maidens are given away from the Gral openly, men in secret, in order to have progeny (as God can instruct them), in the hope that these children will return to serve the Gral and swell the ranks of its Company" (p.251). In other words, the Gral is a (masculine) ruler in its own right.

These are just a few examples I noticed throughout the text. I was wondering if anyone discovered any other ways in which the Gral could serve as a character.

Women are women

Wolfram is a very noisy nosy narrator and makes sure his opinions on all important matters are well acknowledged by his audience. He waxes eloquent on the state of chivalry, his characters and religion, but women appear to be among his most favorite topics of all. And while I have been acutely aware of it through rather snide comments and portrayals of women, it wasn't until this little gem that I truly felt we had the heart of it: "If I had some petty score to settle with them I would be loathe to waive my due, but would take a kiss if they wished to make up again. When all is said, women will always be women. They will subdue a mettlesome man in a trice, they have brought it off repeatedly" (230). Apparently the foundation of womanhood is to subdue a man and capture him and make him forever theirs. Have we seen this scenario played out in Parzival? Indeed over and over again since every noble woman who draws the attention of a noble knight only bestows her love after he has worked for it, in essence a subjugation. And yet this also suggests that a woman can only be a woman and is only allowed this passive role of the household.

There are two many instances of this in Parzival, so let's look at some of the more interesting defiances of this ideal. Gahmuret defies his subjugation to his wives by running away from them and their unadventurous wedded lives. He gives Belacane "the slip"and runs off from Herzeloyde for again more adventure. He needs to run since these women, including Ampflise, are attempting to capture him for the household.

Parzival is victim to this from birth. His mother refuses to allow him knowledge of knighthood and adventure in an attempt o subdue him and draw him closer to the household. In addition, she dies upon his absence, which seems to indicate women living solely for men. Parzival's wife holds a different sway as after having first gained him and subdued him, she retains a grasp upon his mind in the form of his longing for her, torturing him for leaving her.

Gawan and Obilot's relationship is another example of the woman subduing the man. Gawan rides for her sake despite desiring to stay out of the battle raging outside their gates. Even more interesting is Gawan's relationship with Orgeluse. The power struggle here seems to indicate that Orgeluse is the one who is subdued, but in fact her charm forces Gawan to woo her and become worthy of her love before she will bestow it. She is the one in control of her love and it is her decision of when to give it. And yet she is not actively enticing him to her. Her beauty is enough to draw him to her and keep him in pursuit. During the entire process she remains true to that idea that womanhood is passive.

This is the case for all the ladies as well. They possess either beauty or knowledge and with neither do they take active roles. Let's look to Cundrie the ugliest woman presented. She is in fact simply a messenger of the gral and never truly acts upon her knowledge. Her role is passive, giving men information and in that way inciting them to action. By inciting them she is in a sense subduing them for they fall to her will. She wields wisdom as her net, while others rely on their beauty, but both are resigned in this story to passive roles.

The Nibelungenlied as a Feminist Text

In preparing to finish up the Nibelungenlied, I picked up a book called Brides and Doom by Jerold Frakes which has a really interesting take on the true focus of the a few different German epics. Of the Nibelungenlied, Frakes says that he attempts to "address issues of sexual politics as represented by the Nibelungenlied" through the analysis of the property and power exercised by both Kriemhild and Brunhild. (5) He says that the Nibelungenlied poet is "consciously [confronting] the problems of gender which were generated by the social changes of the eleventh and twelfth centuries." (177) He even goes so far as the call the situations inflicted upon Brunhild and Kriemhild exactly what they are in modern terms - rape, wife beating, theft, oppression and so on.

I see the point; I actually appreciate the point. When we look at the storyline in purely narrative terms, we have two men who trick and rape one woman, beat another one when she threatens to expose them, and kill a man who is a threat to exposing the whole thing. The men then steal, sink, or leave behind all the property the women own so they are totally dependent on their husbands and are completely perplexed when one of the women decides she got the short end of the deal and takes matters into her own hands.

But in order for the work to be consciously feminist, the poem needs to present the events in those terms or comment upon the events and it does neither. The only person to be presented as "robbed" of something is Kriemhild, and even then she is only robbed of her husband, instead of, say, her treasure, her autonomy, her vengeance and her selfhood. When she tries to enact her vengeance, she is literally demonized and killed for her trouble.

I would be more likely to suggest that the gender and property relations in the play are problematic, but I don't know if I could go so far as to say they are consciously problematized.

Isolation and Proximity as indicators of Otherness and Power

Transitioning to The Nibelungenlied from Sir Gawain romances, I’m noticing some big differences in the way women are portrayed. For me, the women of Sir Gawain function as another force determining his actions and highlighting his lack of agency. As soon as he meets a woman, be it Ragnelle or the Green Knight’s wife, he ceases to assert his own will, defaulting to the lady out of courtesy. Particularly Ragnelle. She asks him to choose which he would rather have: a wife fair by day, hideous at night or a wife hideous by day, fair at night. Rather than assert his wish, Gawain considers it for a moment and then basically says “Yes, dear. Whatever you want, dear.” Even when Gawain refuses and attempts to stand his ground, his will is still subjugated by the will of the lady of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. He refuses to take the belt/girdle, but the lady insists and eventually he gives.

In the Gawain romances, it’s the woman’s appearance that changes Gawain. The lady’s goodly appearance influences Gawain’s actions, and Ragnelle’s beauty at the end of the romance compels Gawain to give up jousting. However, more specifically, her proximity to Gawain is what sways Gawain. In both instances when Gawain’s will is melded to the wishes of Ragnelle and the Lady respectively, they are in their shared bedchamber.

In The Nibelungenlied, however, women are rarely in close quarters with men, owing to the strict societal codes of behavior. Women are kept hidden and secret from men. Brunhild expresses this best with her interactions with her troop of maids. “Then the Queen told her superb young ladies to move away from the windows—they were not to stand there as a spectacle for strangers.” (Nibelungenlied 60) While the seclusion speaks to the maintenance of women’s secrecy, the maids turn the idea of spectacle on its head. Unlike the women of Gawain romances, the ladies are not displayed, but they spy on showy Sigfried and Gunther, dressed in their fine new clothes.

Proximity with ladies in Gawain’s case made him subject to the will of women, whereas in Sigfried and Gunther’s case, separating women, literally behind walls, makes the men the object in the relationship. Gawain is passive because of the sway of the lady’s presence. Sigfried and Gunther are not aware of the maid’s voyeurism, which gives the women the power of the gaze. The act of secluding the Other, in the case of The Nibelungenlied, allows the maids, a usually passive and peripheral position for a woman, to become powerful in a way unlike the women of Gawain.

Unlike the women of Gawain, the maids of The Nibelungenlied are not to be looked at. In fact, Sigfried and Gunther fall in love with Kriemhild and Brunhild not because they have gazed upon the most wondrous beauty of their generation. They “fall in love” with them because they hear about their beauty. Once again, Kriemhild and Brunhild exist in the story behind a wall, and in the case of Kriemhild, only she has the power to gaze upon Sigfried. “Had Siegfried but known that his beloved was observing him, it would have been a source of unending delight to him, and if he could have seen her I dare assert no greater pleasure could ever have befallen him.” (Nibelungenlied 31-32) Kriemhild wields the power to bestow great pleasure on Siegfried by showing herself, but she can hold back because she is in the position to watch but not be watched. Unlike Gawain’s ladies who rely on their appearance and proximity, using intimacy to win Gawain over, Kriemhild and the other maids use distance to create a mystique, which gives them more power and puts them in the position of observer, a place normally reserved for men.

Kriemhild’s & Brunhild’s Promise of Love & Damnation.

After reading Francis G. Gentry’s essay, I revisited the opening of, “ The Nibelungenlied.” Gentry focuses on the ‘conceptual pair of love and sorrow’ that seems to be invoked, and foreshadowed through Kriemhild’s character,and I think this theme is readily felt on the first page of the story. Despite this, Gentry fails to assert how a profound female power drives this theme or motif in the story.

The fact that the story first focuses on Kriemhild’s before anyone else, instills weight and significance to her actions, words, and presence within the story; in first introducing us to her, she is already given an authoritative voice in the story. Kriemhild seems to possess a profound feminine power, or at least a profound access to a feminine power. Not only is she ‘beyond all measure lovely,’ but she is described as ‘the adornment of her sex.’ Here, Kriemhild is simultaneously reduced to her sex, and instilled with a kind of power, for her sex, her femininity or any notions attached to ‘female,’ is something that adds to her attractiveness, allure, or one could even say, her influence over men. With this in mind, after Kriemhild’s initial introduction, the poet reveals, ‘She came to be a beautiful woman, causing many knights to lose their lives.’ The poet also describes how she was ‘made as if for love’s caress.’ Thus, Kriemhild seems to promises both love and death; this illustrates Gentry’s examination of the relationship between love and sorrow in the story, for one could argue, that Kriemhild’s love for Siegfried is damning, or, will produce sorrow/grief. As Gentry points out, Kriemhild’s conversation with her mother, on the first page of, “The Nibelungenlied,” reinforces the ‘leitmotif of love/sorrow.’ Yet, I think Gentry fails to assert that there is a profound feminine power or element within the story, at the root of this love/sorrow motif.’

Shortly after Kreimhild’s introduction, it states: “They (Lords) held sway at Worms beside the Rhine…were served in high honour by many proud knights…till their dying days, when the enmity of two noble ladies was to bring them to a sad end.” This line seems to determine Siegfried’s, as well as Gunther, Gernot, and Giselher’s fate. The line quite literally states that feelings of hostility, hatred, ill will, animosity manifest themselves between two women, who I think after reading the first section of this book, we can assume are Kreimhild and Brunhild; despite the fact that this ‘enmity’ has not yet developed in the first section of this book, they are the most prominent of all the female figures that appear. Also, although Brunhild does not literally appear on the first page, , she seems to possess a certain power over Gunther, who motivated by his ‘love’ for her, with the aid of Siegfried, ‘wins’ her over; this mirrors, to a degree, Kreimhild’s ‘love’ and how it motivates Siegfried’s actions. Like the women in, “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,” Kriemhild and Brunhild seem to be the driving forces behind the events that will take place in the story; both seem to promise damnation, while motivating the knights’ actions through the ‘love’ that they are believed to promise. The fact that they are both women, and are prominent figures whose relationship seems to damn the knights’ in the story, reinforces how this motif of love/sorrow is closely connected to a profound female force.

I think it’s curious how Brunhild seems to possess both feminine and masculine attributes. Brunhild possesses the same political status of a man or ‘Lord,’ for the fortress of Isenstein is in ‘Brunhild’s land (page 59), and her territory is also described as the ‘Lady’s (Brunhild’s) country.’ It almost seems as if Seigfried, Gunther, Hagen, and Dancwart enter a profound feminine realm; not only is this ‘Brunhild’s land,’ but the repeated images of beautiful maidens seems to reinforce this. Complicating this, is Brunhild’s surprising ‘tremendous strength (page 66), which Hagen at two points in the story, describes as emanating from the devil. It was interesting also, how the story of Eve is invoked on page sixty-five with Hagan’s words; the allusion to Eve and the devil, as well as Brunhild’s ‘masculine strength,’ seem to not only illuminate or enhance the queens physical power or influence, but her ability to damn. Hence, illustrating the motif of ‘love/sorrow,’ and adding a new element to the feminine driving factor behind it – evil. Kriemhild has yet to be equated with evil, although her prominence, femininity, and promise of both ‘love and death,’ associate her with Brunhild. It will be interesting to see how this story develop, and more importantly how Kriemhild may embody the ‘evilness’ that is attached to Brunhild’s femininity or female power. Also, I’m interested to see the repercussions that are given birth to when Gunther and Siegfried ‘deceive (page 63)’ Brunhild, for they seem to have directly violated her trust, and infringed on the power she possesses.

Factoring in Morgan le Fay

I want to attempt to look more in-depth to the women in this poem. In the first two sections of the story, women seem to be backgrounded, and the main stage seems to be dominated by Gawain and the Green Knight. In the last two sections of the story, we see a foregrounding of women and the deception that has been carried out in this poem. We need to take a closer look into the women in this story, since they are the main reason for the ensuing actions.

The first woman who needs to be dealt with is the lady of Haudesert, Lord Bertilak’s wife. Though she is never provided a name, she is provided the power to seduce Gawain into giving her a kiss. However, at the end of the story, Lord Bertilak reveals, “the wooing of my wife-it was all my scheme” (line 2361)! Though the lady seemed to have control over Gawain, Lord Bertilak had the power over her. Thus, the woman was a tool for deception to Gawain.

Then we come to the existence of Morgan le Fay. Lord Berilak/Green Knight admits that he was under a spell by “Morgan the Goddess” (line 2451). Now we see that the entire plan was actually under the control of a woman, and Lord Bertilak/Green Knight was not a free agent. This particular woman is Gawain’s “own aunt is she, Arthur’s half-sister” (line 2464). This fits in well with Max’s claim that the other is actually an unrecognized form of the self. This pagan woman is actually blood related to the king, yet holds alternate traits. Unlike the king, she is aged and has the pagan attribute of being a goddess. What’s even more fascinating is the reason this entire plan was carried out. Lord Bertilak admits, “She put this shape upon me to puzzle your wits, / To afflict the fair queen, and frighten her to death” (lines 2459-2461). This disguise as the horrid Green Knight was to scare Guenevere. In one of Marie’s footnotes, she explains that Morgan le Fay and Guenevere were enemies. This could possibly be the neglected royalty that has been ignored for Morgan le Fay but placed upon Guenevere. Surprisingly, the two women who are least seen in this story are suddenly foregrounded to be to main reason for the events at hand.

The use of Morgan le Fay in this text is intriguing, since she is rarely seen. Her ancient appearance, her use of magic, and femininity seem to provide reason to name her both ‘monsterous’ and an ‘other.’ This being said, it seems to provide her control over the entire story as compared to Guenevere, who is simply a feminine ‘other.’ Morgan le Fay is able to wield her power over men affectively and “she has caught many a man” (line 2448). Morgan le Fay is a black widowed spider, and is able to ensnare others with her femininity and magic. Morgan le Fay’s exertion of her power may have been motivated to show Guenevere that though she is queen, Morgan is a force to be reckoned with. The ending to this story seems to turn the table around and leads us to question which gender dominates in this poem.

Please note: I hadn't read the articles by Cohen and Arner before posting this blog. Now that I have, I see they have pointed out some of the ideas I blogged about. Nonetheless, there is still much to discuss concerning the feminine power in this story.

Gawain's Passivitiy

I know we’ve discussed this in class, but I would like to further explore Sir Gawain’s courtesy. From what we can gather from the texts, both the assorted Gawain Romances and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Gawain’s strength nor his valor are well praised. Rather Gawain’s reputation for being courteous is what sets him apart from the other knights. His courtesy, to some extent, elevates him beyond other knights. However, his courtesy is so extreme that it deviates into the realm of passivity.

Although Arthur is described first in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight as the superlative, “of British kings / King Arthur was counted most courteous of all,” (Green Knight I: 25-26) Gawain emerges as the most courteous of the knights. When he asks to take part in the challenge, Gawain does not demand that he be allowed to take the challenge. Instead he asks for Arthur to “grant [him] the grace,” (Green Knight I: 343) which implies that his courtesy doesn’t allow him to act on his own accord. While the idea to accept the Green Knight’s challenge originates with Gawain, his extreme courtesy dictates that he be allowed by his liege lord and lady to undertake a knightly endeavor.

The other telling part of Gawain’s plea to Arthur is his insistence that he not offend anyone. He says that he will only leave the table so long as his actions do not affront a single person in the court. “If I without discourtesy might quit this board, / and if my liege lady misliked it not.” (Green Knight I: 345-346) Despite the obvious difference in standards of cultural decorum, Gawain’s courtesy goes far beyond the realm of any normal person. The obsessive attention to every possible offense he could commit is what makes Gawain a passive, slightly pathetic character at this point in the poem.

However, nothing tops Gawain’s request to take on the Green Knight. Gawain knows of his knightly deficiencies: “I am the weakest, well I know, and of wit feeblest;” (Green Knight I: 354) So, it follows that Gawain is offering to sacrifice himself in order to rid the court of his offensive presence. “And the loss of my life would be least of any” (Green Knight I: 355) Despite Gawain’s obvious need for a touch of self-esteem, it speaks to his Otherness that everyone in the court agrees. Their agreement seems to say that Gawain’s life is worth the least. He is the weakest and stupidest knight in the court. Either the court “assays the claim” because they know Gawain can triumph against the Green Knight and his ridiculous challenge or because they think he won’t and will be glad to be rid of him.

Unlike some of our other heroes, Roland or Beowulf, Gawain’s exceptionalness others him in the opposite direction of hyper-male. The denial of his dominant masculinity is why I feel we find him in the company of so many women. He is closer allied with womanly values of submission, even if those actions are an extension of his loyalty. The position Gawain occupies within the romantic encounters, both with Ragnelle and the lady of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, is not of initiator. He is notably passive to women, simply by virtue of being courteous to the point of excess. Although, any knight taking one of the five virtues to its most extreme state could be considered an Other. However, in Gawain’s case, his consistent defaulting to the wishes of his lord and to ladies makes him less of a hyper-male and more of an effeminate man.

Maybe It’s Just Me: The State of Women Thus Far

We keep coming across this same basic description of many of the women in these tales, and I begin to wonder if there is more to it than just a male-centric (misogynistic?) social construct. Almost without fail, when we encounter a woman with enough status to bear description, we see her in one of two places, both of which are strikingly similar. She is either borne on the back of a finely-arrayed and obviously costly mount, or finely-arrayed on the dais. These locations are meant to instantly impart to the reader a sense of the woman herself, in that she is important enough to have a description and that description places her in a position close to one of power.

We saw this in the Lais and the story of Ragnelle, where the woman in question is mounted on a horse. This horse and its trappings define the status of the woman visually, but imply the status of their man. Yes, she has a beautiful horse with all the trimmings, but who gave it to her? Another way of asking this question is, as a woman is still socially deemed as chattel, who owns this pretty trinket? Women serve their function first as the lady of some great man, as the chatelaine of his home and the mother of his heirs. It is with notable exception that the women appear as something other than a possession. In the Lais, some of the ladies were arrayed beautifully to indicate that they were somehow enchanted or blessed, as in the tale of Lanval, where the worth of the woman proves that she is an eligible and worthy partner for a knight by virtue of her beauty, and the beauty which surrounds her. Lanval’s lady appears before Arthur in such a show of wealth that he cannot argue her claims. This is not because he is struck dumb by the sight of her loveliness; this is because she is carrying her dowry with her, making it clear that whoever she is, she is of quality, and there may be unseen ramifications for challenging her (such as the appearance of her obviously well-placed male sponsor). In the tale of Ragnelle, her wealth is displayed not only to counteract her initial visage, but to indicate that, whatever may have happened with her step-dame and brother, her reputation and dowry are intact, thus making her eligible instead of outcast.

In Beowulf, Wealtheow reigns from the high table, the position of her power as lady of the lord. As she is married, her dowry taken and used, she no longer needs to be decked in costly trappings. Her sense of worth to her husband and people is now determined by what she is allowed to say and do. Wealtheow can speak her mind, issue challenges, and bestow great gifts without any obvious textual repercussions to indicate she has overstepped her bounds. Grendel’s mother is much the same in her own home, though the difference is that there is no longer a lord there to determine where the money is spent, and she is surrounded by a trove of the expensive and priceless. Grendel’s mother is also the head of the household, speaking from her position as both lord and lady, as both mother to a child and ruler of a powerful champion. In Gawain and the Green Knight, we see Guenevere following in their footsteps. She is “on a dais well-decked and duly-arrayed/ with costly silk curtains, a canopy over, / of Toulouse and Turkestan tapestries…the best gems/ ever brought into Britain, with bright pennies to pay” (Ln. 75-80). Arthur’s queen is dressed and displayed in such a way to show his power, and his power over her. Arthur can control this beauty, afford to dress her finely, and this indicates his own standing. Not only can he afford to and chooses to do it, he is not dipping into the funds of her dowry to accomplish it, rather he is importing goods from other conquests and other lands to add to her scenery. This image calls to mind the altar of a church, where the Virgin Mary is finely dressed and surrounded by richness to indicate her status through that of her Lord. Yes, in that instance, she has assuredly earned the trappings on her own merit as well, but in this manner she, and Guenevere, stand as the symbol of femininity and beauty, and because of who they are related to, necessarily also representing virtue and compassion. The lady of the house is also in charge of ministering aid to the people, viewing them as her responsibility, so that she is not just a pretty ornament, but also a functioning person with a job to do. She does this, at meals and social functions, by being on the dais, above all the others, but still servant to them as she is to her husband.

But here, Guenevere is given an added distinction. The “fair queen, without a flaw,/ she glanced with eyes of grey” (Ln. 81-2). At this point in the semester, I bet everyone anticipates that I am going to link her gray eyes with the most famous of gray eyes, those of the goddess Athena. This minor detail may add a new level to Guenevere, as now she is not just chattel and a figurehead, she has been linked to wisdom and so we can infer that she must have some of her own.

What Does A Woman Want (A Question of Reading)

Since the entire premise of "The Wedding of Sir Gawain and the Dame Ragnelle" is based on the question "Whate wemen desyren moste" (51), I thought I might try to answer that, at least in the case of Ragnelle.

Freud famously stated his disquiet with this particular question in his letter to Marie Bonaparte, saying "The great question that has never been answered, and which I have not yet been able to answer, despite my thirty years of research into the feminine soul, is 'What does a woman want?'" This perplexes me because the answer is, obviously, given within the text.

The answer Dame Ragnelle gives, ""We desyren of men above alle maner thyng/to have the sovereynte, withoute lesyng,/ of all, both hyghe and lowe" (58) may be textually satisfying, but, for me and for Freud, theoretically lacking. What exactly does it mean to have sovereignty? How does one go about getting that? If a man grants a woman control, that's not really freedom, is it?

To move further, I'm turning towards Shoshana Felman's What Does a Woman Want: Reading and Sexual Difference (are we seeing a pattern here?). She says that the most transgressive act a woman can take in literature is to "resist male recognition...refusing to ground specularity in meaning, to serve as a narcissistic mirror for her lover and thereby to reflect back simply and unproblematically man's value." (Felman 4) The short version? We can stop showing men what they want to see, resist being read, and then we will be in control of our own destinies.

Going by that, it seems to me like Dame Ragnelle is already sovereign. Aside from the description of her ugliness coupled with her princess steed, Arthur simply doesn't know how to read her. Even in speaking to her "'Now farewelle," sayd the Kyng, 'Lady.''" (55) The pause in that line functions almost like an ellipsis to the reader. The words are split up, it's almost like The Kyng has to think about whether or not to refer to her as a Lady. Ragnelle has resisted reading. She doesn't really need Gawain to give her the choice because she's already stopped functioning as a mirror for men.

Given that, she must be the only woman who could possibly answer the question. She is the only woman who is already resisting, yet she is still offering herself to the men, which might be the source of Freud's disquiet.

Implications of a Female Writer: Gender Roles as a Way of Creating Otherness

In the story of Yonec, we view a familiar trope in The Lais of Marie De France, namely that of a woman being imprisoned. Marie goes beyond the metaphor of a woman being imprisoned by her form and her role in the world, and goes on to have those prisons be real stone towers as opposed to just constructs of a patriarchal society. The wife of the old, jealous husband is locked up, kept from the church and her devotions to God, so that her only view of the world is a tiny window into which the tales of knights and ladies and courtly love sneak. In hearing that “ladies find lovers so handsome, courtly, brave, and valiant that they could not be blamed, and no one else would see them,” she wishes for such herself (Ln. 97-99). The idea of blame is very important, because she knows that her jealous husband holds her accountable for things which she could not possibly control: her appearance; her gender; the reactions of others to her. So that even though in her sadness she has “lost her beauty, as one does who cares nothing for it,” her lord believes that such is not the case, which is why her imprisonment continues (Ln. 47-48).

The lady wishes for love, and the story continues with that wish being granted in the most mysterious possible manner. Much like in Greco-Roman mythology, something happens that is otherworldly, supernatural. Zeus, king of the gods, was fond of taking on guises to seduce and impregnate mortal women who have been somehow trapped and locked away from the world. The most relevant example of this is the story of Leda, who is seduced by Zeus while he is in the form of a swan. The union of Zeus and Leda produces some of his most famous offspring, Castor and Pollux, Clytemnestra and Helen. The story of Leda is often called a rape, though whether out of a question of her willingness of ability to control the situation we do not know. Our lady in the tower is much the same, though we know of her willingness to have a loving affair, we also know that her ability to control such things is negligible. As the rest of the tale attests, the union of knight and lady also produces “famous” offspring.

When the hawk flies into her chamber and takes the form of a knight, she is at first terrified by the magic of the transformation and also at the appearance that her fondest wish had been granted. The knight makes a speech to put her at ease, and here is where Marie’s own femininity becomes merged with the language of her characters. Traditional Christian teaching suggests that original sin had its beginnings with Eve, that she as a woman, and therefore weaker and lesser than a man, gave into temptation, ate the forbidden apple, and convinced Adam to do the same, thus taking humanity from the garden into the harsh world outside. Women for generations after were held accountable for her actions, and being seen as weaker and more prone to the evils of temptation, were subjugated by virtue of the gender alone and held as second class versions of humanity, locked in their own bodies and homes by the men who were seen to have better judgment. Yet the lady, when this knight comes forth and proclaims his love and desire for her, regardless of her marital status, she agrees “to take him as her lover if he believed in God” (Ln.138-139).

These are not the words of a woman who quivers in the face of temptation, especially one which involves the receipt of her fondest wish. She holds strong to her beliefs in right and wrong, and the knowledge that if this mysterious act of transformation was at all possible, it is either the work of God or the Devil. But, if the man believes in God, then she should have no fear of entering into a relationship with him. The knight replies to this, saying, “I do believe in the creator who freed us from the grief that Adam, our father, led us into when he bit into the bitter apple” (Ln. 149-152). Generations of Christian morality has this role being assumed by Eve, not Adam, and here Marie reveals a philosophical technicality which, I believe, only a woman would dare construct. The implication of the knight’s, and therefore Marie’s, sentiment is that woman was tricked into eating the apple, but man used his free will to choose to do so. This suggests that it is worse to choose the wrong path than it is to stumble upon it. Marie is turning years of thought on its ear, making this woman, Eve, and through her all women, including ladies in towers, victims of poor judgment, and Adam and all men, guilty of evil choices. What woman, distraught or otherwise, would not be heartened to hear such a thing, especially from a man? Marie’s views support women while challenging the status quo of gender in her time, and beliefs that despite her suggestions to the contrary, will pervade society for many more years to come.

This begs two questions. First, it causes one to wonder if the knight is the agent of the Devil, saying the sweet words to once again tempt a woman into sin. This question is neutralized by the remainder of the tale, which shows that their love is indeed justified and serves to bring about Yonec, and through him the unification of people. The second, simpler and much more harmless answer, is that the man saying this just because he wants to seduce her, and thus justify their adultery using biblical arguments with which she could not possibly want to argue?