In class we debated over whether or not Feirefiz's conversion was sincere. I think most of us agreed that the conversion was questionable. It seems that Feirefiz only converts for the love of Repanse de Schoye. We are given much evidence of this in the text. "'If I were baptized for your sakes, would Baptism help me to win love?' asked the infidel son of Gahmuret" (p. 404). However, before we put the subject to rest, I wanted to talk about Feirefiz after the conversion.
Feirefiz's life in India, after the conversion to Christianity, seems to prove that a true conversion did take place on his part. Wolfram tells us, "Feirefiz has letters sent throughout the land of India describing the Christian life, which had not prospered so much till then" (p.408). Although the text only provides us with this very short and very brief description of Feirefiz's life post conversion, it is evident that his conversion was valid. Thus, even though Feirefiz might not have chosen to be baptized as a way to become a Christian, he still embraced Christianity afterwards. As a true convert, he uses letters to spread Christianity in the heathen world.
On the other hand, this short passage can also be used to validate our class conclusion: the conversion of Feirefiz was for the love of Repanse de Schoye and therefore cannot be considered a true conversion to Christianity. Since Wolfram provides no indication of what is said in these letters, it could be assumed that Feirefiz is solely praising the Christian life because through it he obtained the woman he most desired. It is obvious that the marriage was a prosperous one: the couple had five children. The image created of Feirefiz's life after his conversion differs from that of the wandering playboy knight who fights many battles and has many women. It is the life of a content married man. This happiness could possibly stem more from his wife than Christianity.
Showing posts with label Parzival. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parzival. Show all posts
Sunday, November 11, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
A Tentative Theory of Feirefiz
We finished on Thursday with mention of the profound strangeness of the backstory Wolfram invents for his text of Parzival: translated from the French version of "Master Kyot," which is in turn translated from the "heathenish script" authored by "the infidel Flegetanis" (232), who apparently learned it through astrology. This fictional genesis of the poem can, I think, be connected to our main preoccupation from Thursday's class, Feirefiz and the nature and quality of his conversion. Is there a way in which the hybrid, exuberant, Love-obsessed, ultimately (if just technically) sanctified character exemplifies or encapsulates the hybrid, exuberant, Love-obsessed, ultimately sanctified text?
Perhaps the most arresting and thought-provoking description of Feirefiz's admittedly outlandish appearance occurs during the exhausted stand-off into which his incognito single-combat with Parzival lapses. Parizval, trying to characterize the infidel half-brother whom he knows only by report, likens his "complexion" to "a parchment, with writing." (This is not the first time a German poetic hero has been described in explicitly textual terms: at one point in the Nibelungenlied, Siegfried appears "as though limned on parchment with all a master's skill" [48].) In such an otherwise verbose poem, Feirefiz's immediate and starkly emphatic response carries extraordinary force: "'I am he,' replied the Infidel" (372).
In other words, Parzival represents Feirefiz as just such an example of "heathenish script" as Wolfram has already claimed his poem, in origin, to have been - and Feirefiz lends credence to this representation by the clarity of his assent. It makes sense that the two elements in the poem whose written-ness is most insisted upon (or, in Feirefiz's case, metaphorically ascribed [inscribed?]) are also the two which were Wolfram's personal additions: the fictional "heathen" textual history and the character of Feirefiz (with his own heathen backstory).
So Feirefiz, in appearance and in identity, is black, "heathenish" "writing" upon white (Christian?) "parchment." This seems to establish the white, Euro-Christian element - the parchment, without which basis the writing could not exist - as the more essential or integral aspect of Feirefiz's identity, a move which Parzival voices when telling Feirefiz that at Arthur's court, "we shall find our own true race" (375). (I think this holds even if you interpret "race" in more limited terms as "family" or "kindred.") If we go back to the example of Wolfram's feigned textual history, we find a yet stronger basis for an inherent or foundational Christianity pervading these "heathenish" textual artifacts. Flegetanis' writings appear to have been "heathenish" only in form, their "script": in content they evidently possessed all of the Christian connotations, at least in potentis, of Wolfram's "translated" version. There is a hint that, in this original version, form obscured content: "No infidel art would avail us to reveal the nature of the Gral and how one came to know its secrets" (232). (This obviously reminds us of Feirefiz's inability, while still non-Christian, even to see the Gral; he and other infidels can only know it through its effects, not in its Christian essence.) All it apparently took was translation to a new form to unlock the innate meaning of this content.
Similarly, Feirefiz's "writing" could be seen as conveying essentially Christian content in a garbled, "heathenish script" that warps or obscures the clear understanding and expression of that content. He seems, for example, to evince an unconscious and a priori understanding of Christian doctrine, as when good Trinitarian dogma leaks through his speech about the relationship between himself, Parzival, and their father: "If I lay hold of truth, both my father and you, and I, too, were but one, though seen as three distinct entities" (374). This may be why Feirefiz's conversion takes place so easily and with such conspicuous lack of conscious spiritual avowal. Nothing in Feirefiz needed to be changed, revised, rewritten. His conversion is simply his more or less mechanical translation into a new form. After his baptism, he was a Christian all along.
Feirefiz's relative indifference to spiritual matters should not pose too insurmountable of a hurdle for us in any case, since this is another trait that he shares with the "translated" poem. Or rather, Wolfram is not indifferent to spiritual matters, but he sees them, even at their most exalted, as indissolubly linked with the humane, the physical, the fleshly. Even Parzival the enlightened Gral-king gets to keep his wife too. The attainment of higher and higher degrees of selflessness and fidelity in the service of human Love can not only parallel (as in Gawan's case) but facilitate (as with Parzival) higher and higher spiritual attainments. And, as Jolie and Katlyn have been exploring in their postings, the feminine Love-object shades into and blends with the goal of the poem's spiritual endeavors. Feirefiz's trajectory in this regard, at least from the point of view of a contemporary reader, is less clear (one does tend to feel sorry for Secundille), but devotion to Love certainly leads to his sanctification too.
Just as only his love for Repanse de Schoye and conversion for the sake of that love allow Feirefiz to see the Gral, so the Gral in Wolfram's poem only appears through the conceptual prism of the love-service tradition and the general chivalric institutionalization of Love. I can imagine Wolfram writing a poem about Love without the Gral, but I don't think a Wolfram poem about the Gral but without Love (like, for example, the French prose Grail romances) is even conceivable. And indeed, in his final lines Wolfram insists that any (purely hypothetical, of course) woman for whom he was writing "must" admit to having been pleased (411). In short, to propose a tentative answer to the question raised on Thursday about Feirefiz's role in the poem: with reference, again, to Wolfram's fictional backstory about the translation of his own text out of "heathenish script," Feirefiz's role in the poem may be that he is the poem.
Perhaps the most arresting and thought-provoking description of Feirefiz's admittedly outlandish appearance occurs during the exhausted stand-off into which his incognito single-combat with Parzival lapses. Parizval, trying to characterize the infidel half-brother whom he knows only by report, likens his "complexion" to "a parchment, with writing." (This is not the first time a German poetic hero has been described in explicitly textual terms: at one point in the Nibelungenlied, Siegfried appears "as though limned on parchment with all a master's skill" [48].) In such an otherwise verbose poem, Feirefiz's immediate and starkly emphatic response carries extraordinary force: "'I am he,' replied the Infidel" (372).
In other words, Parzival represents Feirefiz as just such an example of "heathenish script" as Wolfram has already claimed his poem, in origin, to have been - and Feirefiz lends credence to this representation by the clarity of his assent. It makes sense that the two elements in the poem whose written-ness is most insisted upon (or, in Feirefiz's case, metaphorically ascribed [inscribed?]) are also the two which were Wolfram's personal additions: the fictional "heathen" textual history and the character of Feirefiz (with his own heathen backstory).
So Feirefiz, in appearance and in identity, is black, "heathenish" "writing" upon white (Christian?) "parchment." This seems to establish the white, Euro-Christian element - the parchment, without which basis the writing could not exist - as the more essential or integral aspect of Feirefiz's identity, a move which Parzival voices when telling Feirefiz that at Arthur's court, "we shall find our own true race" (375). (I think this holds even if you interpret "race" in more limited terms as "family" or "kindred.") If we go back to the example of Wolfram's feigned textual history, we find a yet stronger basis for an inherent or foundational Christianity pervading these "heathenish" textual artifacts. Flegetanis' writings appear to have been "heathenish" only in form, their "script": in content they evidently possessed all of the Christian connotations, at least in potentis, of Wolfram's "translated" version. There is a hint that, in this original version, form obscured content: "No infidel art would avail us to reveal the nature of the Gral and how one came to know its secrets" (232). (This obviously reminds us of Feirefiz's inability, while still non-Christian, even to see the Gral; he and other infidels can only know it through its effects, not in its Christian essence.) All it apparently took was translation to a new form to unlock the innate meaning of this content.
Similarly, Feirefiz's "writing" could be seen as conveying essentially Christian content in a garbled, "heathenish script" that warps or obscures the clear understanding and expression of that content. He seems, for example, to evince an unconscious and a priori understanding of Christian doctrine, as when good Trinitarian dogma leaks through his speech about the relationship between himself, Parzival, and their father: "If I lay hold of truth, both my father and you, and I, too, were but one, though seen as three distinct entities" (374). This may be why Feirefiz's conversion takes place so easily and with such conspicuous lack of conscious spiritual avowal. Nothing in Feirefiz needed to be changed, revised, rewritten. His conversion is simply his more or less mechanical translation into a new form. After his baptism, he was a Christian all along.
Feirefiz's relative indifference to spiritual matters should not pose too insurmountable of a hurdle for us in any case, since this is another trait that he shares with the "translated" poem. Or rather, Wolfram is not indifferent to spiritual matters, but he sees them, even at their most exalted, as indissolubly linked with the humane, the physical, the fleshly. Even Parzival the enlightened Gral-king gets to keep his wife too. The attainment of higher and higher degrees of selflessness and fidelity in the service of human Love can not only parallel (as in Gawan's case) but facilitate (as with Parzival) higher and higher spiritual attainments. And, as Jolie and Katlyn have been exploring in their postings, the feminine Love-object shades into and blends with the goal of the poem's spiritual endeavors. Feirefiz's trajectory in this regard, at least from the point of view of a contemporary reader, is less clear (one does tend to feel sorry for Secundille), but devotion to Love certainly leads to his sanctification too.
Just as only his love for Repanse de Schoye and conversion for the sake of that love allow Feirefiz to see the Gral, so the Gral in Wolfram's poem only appears through the conceptual prism of the love-service tradition and the general chivalric institutionalization of Love. I can imagine Wolfram writing a poem about Love without the Gral, but I don't think a Wolfram poem about the Gral but without Love (like, for example, the French prose Grail romances) is even conceivable. And indeed, in his final lines Wolfram insists that any (purely hypothetical, of course) woman for whom he was writing "must" admit to having been pleased (411). In short, to propose a tentative answer to the question raised on Thursday about Feirefiz's role in the poem: with reference, again, to Wolfram's fictional backstory about the translation of his own text out of "heathenish script," Feirefiz's role in the poem may be that he is the poem.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Love an Other
I have to say, Parzival compacts a great deal of themes into small lines. Wolfram’s concept Love is perhaps the most complex of them all. Love is the burden Gawan and Parzival endure because of their chivalric grace and nobility. The most notable passage about Love and the afflicted’s nobility is on page 271 when Wolfram interjects “Gawan cannot escape Love’s making him unhappy. So of what use is it if I interpose, however much I say? A man of worth should not fend off Love, if only because Love must help to save him.” (Von Ecshenbach 270-271) Wolfram attributes Gawan’s level of suffering to his elevated status, proclaiming that the best of the best anguish over love the way noble Gawan does.
Parzival’s Love anguish comes in perhaps the most symbolic of ways. He watches a falcon injury a goose from a flock, and three drops of blood from the wound form the likeness of his wife on the snow. Putting aside the strangeness of the image, the blood represents, in a tangible way, the torment Parzival feels being away from his wife. Also, the fact that Parzival has to be reminded of the way his wife looks in order to be anguished by her absence shows the sensibility of the poet as well as the court. In order to be fixated on a woman, a knight must either gaze upon her or carry with him a fetish, or love token in the case of the knights. The violence which causes the blood to represent the image of Parzival’s lady also hearkens back to the violence Parzival commits in his lady’s name. Love is inexorably linked to violence in Parzival’s world, by the nature of the jousting necessary to prove and win his love, and the fact that he sees his lady in blood symbolizes the suffering he and other knights endure because of their love.
What’s interesting about the obsessive gazing Parzival engages in is that once he engages in battle again and loses sight of the blood, “Mistress Reason restored him to his senses.” (Von Ecshenbach 151) Perhaps it is Parzival’s ignorance, his still child-like understanding of love, which causes him to gaze upon the figure of his lady with such obsessive fervor. Like Gawan, a more learned and more mature knight, Parzival’s love for his lady is described as a burden, but unlike Gawan, love incapacitates Parzival. “But Parzival sat there lost to the world, thanks to those spots of blood and imperious Love, who also robs me of my sense and sets my heart in turmoil.” (Von Ecshenbach 150) While Gawan’s love compels him to fight for his lady, Parzival becomes obsessive, ignoring the battle and acting in a way unbecoming of a knight.
In the same way, Herzeloyde also bears the burden of love but in a much more terminal fashion. The hermit tells Parzival “‘No sooner had you left your mother than she died – that was what she had for her love.’” (Von Ecshenbach 243) Her attachment to her son, perhaps caused by her unconventional fosterage, results in her being unable to bear Love’s burden and the hurt of Parzival’s absence. Herzeloyde and Parzival are both overwhelmed by the absence of the one they love, but it’s just too much for poor Herzeloyde. Although the fixation is similar, Parzival overcomes his obsession and moves on, whereas his mother dies. Also the interiority of Parzival’s obsession with the Gral mimics the internalization of Herzeloyde’s separation pains, in that she grieves Parzival’s absence so much that she drops dead because of it.
Wolfram’s opinion of Love, who causes such turmoil and strife, seems to be redeemed in Fierefiz. The heathen, or for our purposes the Other, is baptized because of his love for the lovely Repanse de Schoye. Although he has spent years jousting on behalf of ladies, he considered himself stronger than love. “The sight of her pierces my heart. I imagined myself so strong that no woman, wed or unwed, could rob me of my happiness.” (Von Ecshenbach 402) However, unlike the other figures in the poem, Feirefiz gets a better deal than the other love-suffering fools. With the baptism, not only is Feirefiz no longer a heathen, but he also immediately marries Repanse de Schoye. We hear no more of his suffering on behalf of love. The baptism acts as an extinguisher, quelling the fiery lust within Feirefiz and allowing him salvation. In the case of Feirefiz, the Other, the pains of love led him to deliverance from heathenism and to God.
Parzival’s Love anguish comes in perhaps the most symbolic of ways. He watches a falcon injury a goose from a flock, and three drops of blood from the wound form the likeness of his wife on the snow. Putting aside the strangeness of the image, the blood represents, in a tangible way, the torment Parzival feels being away from his wife. Also, the fact that Parzival has to be reminded of the way his wife looks in order to be anguished by her absence shows the sensibility of the poet as well as the court. In order to be fixated on a woman, a knight must either gaze upon her or carry with him a fetish, or love token in the case of the knights. The violence which causes the blood to represent the image of Parzival’s lady also hearkens back to the violence Parzival commits in his lady’s name. Love is inexorably linked to violence in Parzival’s world, by the nature of the jousting necessary to prove and win his love, and the fact that he sees his lady in blood symbolizes the suffering he and other knights endure because of their love.
What’s interesting about the obsessive gazing Parzival engages in is that once he engages in battle again and loses sight of the blood, “Mistress Reason restored him to his senses.” (Von Ecshenbach 151) Perhaps it is Parzival’s ignorance, his still child-like understanding of love, which causes him to gaze upon the figure of his lady with such obsessive fervor. Like Gawan, a more learned and more mature knight, Parzival’s love for his lady is described as a burden, but unlike Gawan, love incapacitates Parzival. “But Parzival sat there lost to the world, thanks to those spots of blood and imperious Love, who also robs me of my sense and sets my heart in turmoil.” (Von Ecshenbach 150) While Gawan’s love compels him to fight for his lady, Parzival becomes obsessive, ignoring the battle and acting in a way unbecoming of a knight.
In the same way, Herzeloyde also bears the burden of love but in a much more terminal fashion. The hermit tells Parzival “‘No sooner had you left your mother than she died – that was what she had for her love.’” (Von Ecshenbach 243) Her attachment to her son, perhaps caused by her unconventional fosterage, results in her being unable to bear Love’s burden and the hurt of Parzival’s absence. Herzeloyde and Parzival are both overwhelmed by the absence of the one they love, but it’s just too much for poor Herzeloyde. Although the fixation is similar, Parzival overcomes his obsession and moves on, whereas his mother dies. Also the interiority of Parzival’s obsession with the Gral mimics the internalization of Herzeloyde’s separation pains, in that she grieves Parzival’s absence so much that she drops dead because of it.
Wolfram’s opinion of Love, who causes such turmoil and strife, seems to be redeemed in Fierefiz. The heathen, or for our purposes the Other, is baptized because of his love for the lovely Repanse de Schoye. Although he has spent years jousting on behalf of ladies, he considered himself stronger than love. “The sight of her pierces my heart. I imagined myself so strong that no woman, wed or unwed, could rob me of my happiness.” (Von Ecshenbach 402) However, unlike the other figures in the poem, Feirefiz gets a better deal than the other love-suffering fools. With the baptism, not only is Feirefiz no longer a heathen, but he also immediately marries Repanse de Schoye. We hear no more of his suffering on behalf of love. The baptism acts as an extinguisher, quelling the fiery lust within Feirefiz and allowing him salvation. In the case of Feirefiz, the Other, the pains of love led him to deliverance from heathenism and to God.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Malcreatiure: The Monster & Human
We encountered more monsters in this third section we read for class! On page two-hundred-sixty-three Gawan encounters Malcreatiure, Cundrie’s brother. Similar to Cundrie, Malcreatiure has ‘two fangs like a wild boar,’ and enters with a reproach, only he directs his criticism to Gawan for leaving with Orgeluse. We’ve encountered a new kind of monster here with Malcreatiure. Yes, Malcreatiure fits out definition of the monstrous in physicality, but I think he pushes it in a number of ways in the short passage where he appears.
There is an interesting tension between Malcreatiure’s human and monstrous qualities. Malcreatiure is established as human when Wolframs states ‘he was the splitting image of Cundrie, except he was a man.’ Here, Malcreaiture quite literally is established as a human, and his role as a ‘squire,’ also seems to reinforce this, for it establishes him as insider within Gawan’s world. The monsters we’ve encountered in the previous novels/poems we’ve read, all appear to be outsiders from an ‘unknown world,’ and Malcreatiure’s status as a ‘squire’ lends a new dimension to what we’ve defined as the ‘monstrous,’ for it gives him a place within this dominating society. It is also interesting how a squire’s role is to attend to or escort a woman, can act as a judge, and is ranked below a knight in the feudal hierarchy; this not only reinforces Malcreaiure’s position within dominating society, but I think lends him certain characteristics associated with knighthood, such as protecting those in need. In this case, it seems that Malcreatiure is ‘protecting’ Orgeluse, and if we do consider him ‘monstrous,’ this is a quality we’ve never seen in the monsters we’ve encountered. In light of this though, Malcreatiure asserts, “You (Gawan) strike me as a fool…You will have high praise if you can fend off the correction in store for you.’ Malcreatiure’s words also seem to invoke a warning for Gawan, and in the same instance, foreshadows what comes next; strangely, in warning Gawan, Malcreatiure could be seen as protecting him. Wolfram seems to repeatedly blur the line between humanness and monstrous both physically, and I would say psychologically, to the point where Malcreatiure’s seems to be pushed outside of the ‘monstrous’ realm, and exhibits humanness. As ‘frightful’ as his appearance is, he holds the position of a ‘squire,’ and unlike Grendel or Grendel’s mother, talks, engages in conversation; he also adheres to a form of conduct (‘If you are a knight you might in decency have refrained!’). Yet, these are not the only characteristics that push Malcreatiure away from the monstrous.
After Gawan flings Malcreatiure to the ground, Malcreatiure is described as a ‘sapient,’ wise and discerning, squire that ‘looks up timidly.’ Yet, this image is quickly contrasted with Malcreatiure’s physical monstrousness, his ‘hedgehog bristles. An interesting thing happens in the fight between Gawan and Malcreatiure. One may argue that Malcreatiure’s ‘timidness,’ seems to readily invoke not only his defeat, but works to victimize him; the reader, in my case, sympathizes with Malcreatiure because the description of him ‘looking up most timidly,’ illustrates him as weak, almost fragile, fearful and hesitant; this paired with the fact that he is established as an ‘insider,’ as well as someone who adheres to a mode of conduct like Gawan’s, makes us further sympathize with him, something we could never do with for example, Grendel’s Mother, who could be seen as justified in avenging her son’s death. The image of Malcreatiure as ‘timid’ is quickly contrasted with vengeance (‘Yet his hedgehog bristles avenged him, cutting Gawan), and ultimately it is his monstrous physicality that ensures him protection from Gawan. Like Siegfried who after bathing in the Dragon’s blood, had ‘skin that grew horny so that no weapon should bite,’ it is Malcreatiure’s monsterous physicality, his hedgehog bristles, that protect him; in this instance he seems to mirror Siegfried, and exists as both a human and monster. In addition to this, in this part of the passage (‘Yet, his hedgehog bristles avenged him…) it is a little ambiguous whether or not Malcreatiure intended to hurt Gawan and avenge himself. Malcreatiure quickly disappears from the story, and we’re not given any information indicating that he was motivated by ‘rage,’ a characteristic associated with the monstrous, and whether he intended to cut Gawan. But the passage could be read that when Malcreatiure looks up ‘most timidly,’ he is almost putting on a show, as if manipulating an expression of weakness in order to later inflict his vengeance; this is probable because of the human qualities that have previously been established within him. In light of this, Malcreatiure’s intent is never concretely established, and I think this speaks to how Wolfram is conscious of manipulating human and monsterous qualities in order to carve out a new kind of monster, one that is both human and monster, and may be even said necessary. Like the beast in, “The Good Book,” Malcreatiure can be seen as a monster unleashed, that acts as warning. After the fight, Gawan is forced to face a number of ‘ordeals,’ and Malcreatiure’s words, ‘You will win high praise if you can fend off the correction in store for you,’ echo in the pages that follow.
The monsters in “Parzival,” specifically Cundrie and Malcreatiure seem to have a different purpose then Grendel or even the Green Giant; they appear as both human and monster, but do not epitomize the Christian idea of ‘hell’ or ‘evil doers.’ Also, they are not outsiders, nor can they truly be seen as negative characters, or better said, ‘enemies.’ In addition to this, they seem to have an agency that I don’t believe we’ve really seen in any of the monsters that have appeared in class. It is hard to determine exactly what Cundrie or Malcreatiure are ‘aiding’ or facilitating in the story, but they both seem to be characters that ‘warn,’ and foreshadow turning points. With Cundrie and Malcreatiure the line between monstrous and human is blurred to such a degree that they are ‘othered,’ for they only really fulfill the monstrous in physicality, are human, and have a place and agency within dominating society.
There is an interesting tension between Malcreatiure’s human and monstrous qualities. Malcreatiure is established as human when Wolframs states ‘he was the splitting image of Cundrie, except he was a man.’ Here, Malcreaiture quite literally is established as a human, and his role as a ‘squire,’ also seems to reinforce this, for it establishes him as insider within Gawan’s world. The monsters we’ve encountered in the previous novels/poems we’ve read, all appear to be outsiders from an ‘unknown world,’ and Malcreatiure’s status as a ‘squire’ lends a new dimension to what we’ve defined as the ‘monstrous,’ for it gives him a place within this dominating society. It is also interesting how a squire’s role is to attend to or escort a woman, can act as a judge, and is ranked below a knight in the feudal hierarchy; this not only reinforces Malcreaiure’s position within dominating society, but I think lends him certain characteristics associated with knighthood, such as protecting those in need. In this case, it seems that Malcreatiure is ‘protecting’ Orgeluse, and if we do consider him ‘monstrous,’ this is a quality we’ve never seen in the monsters we’ve encountered. In light of this though, Malcreatiure asserts, “You (Gawan) strike me as a fool…You will have high praise if you can fend off the correction in store for you.’ Malcreatiure’s words also seem to invoke a warning for Gawan, and in the same instance, foreshadows what comes next; strangely, in warning Gawan, Malcreatiure could be seen as protecting him. Wolfram seems to repeatedly blur the line between humanness and monstrous both physically, and I would say psychologically, to the point where Malcreatiure’s seems to be pushed outside of the ‘monstrous’ realm, and exhibits humanness. As ‘frightful’ as his appearance is, he holds the position of a ‘squire,’ and unlike Grendel or Grendel’s mother, talks, engages in conversation; he also adheres to a form of conduct (‘If you are a knight you might in decency have refrained!’). Yet, these are not the only characteristics that push Malcreatiure away from the monstrous.
After Gawan flings Malcreatiure to the ground, Malcreatiure is described as a ‘sapient,’ wise and discerning, squire that ‘looks up timidly.’ Yet, this image is quickly contrasted with Malcreatiure’s physical monstrousness, his ‘hedgehog bristles. An interesting thing happens in the fight between Gawan and Malcreatiure. One may argue that Malcreatiure’s ‘timidness,’ seems to readily invoke not only his defeat, but works to victimize him; the reader, in my case, sympathizes with Malcreatiure because the description of him ‘looking up most timidly,’ illustrates him as weak, almost fragile, fearful and hesitant; this paired with the fact that he is established as an ‘insider,’ as well as someone who adheres to a mode of conduct like Gawan’s, makes us further sympathize with him, something we could never do with for example, Grendel’s Mother, who could be seen as justified in avenging her son’s death. The image of Malcreatiure as ‘timid’ is quickly contrasted with vengeance (‘Yet his hedgehog bristles avenged him, cutting Gawan), and ultimately it is his monstrous physicality that ensures him protection from Gawan. Like Siegfried who after bathing in the Dragon’s blood, had ‘skin that grew horny so that no weapon should bite,’ it is Malcreatiure’s monsterous physicality, his hedgehog bristles, that protect him; in this instance he seems to mirror Siegfried, and exists as both a human and monster. In addition to this, in this part of the passage (‘Yet, his hedgehog bristles avenged him…) it is a little ambiguous whether or not Malcreatiure intended to hurt Gawan and avenge himself. Malcreatiure quickly disappears from the story, and we’re not given any information indicating that he was motivated by ‘rage,’ a characteristic associated with the monstrous, and whether he intended to cut Gawan. But the passage could be read that when Malcreatiure looks up ‘most timidly,’ he is almost putting on a show, as if manipulating an expression of weakness in order to later inflict his vengeance; this is probable because of the human qualities that have previously been established within him. In light of this, Malcreatiure’s intent is never concretely established, and I think this speaks to how Wolfram is conscious of manipulating human and monsterous qualities in order to carve out a new kind of monster, one that is both human and monster, and may be even said necessary. Like the beast in, “The Good Book,” Malcreatiure can be seen as a monster unleashed, that acts as warning. After the fight, Gawan is forced to face a number of ‘ordeals,’ and Malcreatiure’s words, ‘You will win high praise if you can fend off the correction in store for you,’ echo in the pages that follow.
The monsters in “Parzival,” specifically Cundrie and Malcreatiure seem to have a different purpose then Grendel or even the Green Giant; they appear as both human and monster, but do not epitomize the Christian idea of ‘hell’ or ‘evil doers.’ Also, they are not outsiders, nor can they truly be seen as negative characters, or better said, ‘enemies.’ In addition to this, they seem to have an agency that I don’t believe we’ve really seen in any of the monsters that have appeared in class. It is hard to determine exactly what Cundrie or Malcreatiure are ‘aiding’ or facilitating in the story, but they both seem to be characters that ‘warn,’ and foreshadow turning points. With Cundrie and Malcreatiure the line between monstrous and human is blurred to such a degree that they are ‘othered,’ for they only really fulfill the monstrous in physicality, are human, and have a place and agency within dominating society.
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.
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.
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.
A New Origin of Monsters
Though we have discussed in class the lack of obvious monsters in this text, I want to address a certain paragraph that appears to shed some light on the idea of monsters and where they can be found. Though the Saracens in Baghdad are not depicted as the monstrous, it appears the label has been placed on another distant ethnic group. It is an easy to overlook the account where one reads of where Malcreatiure is from, but in the description, there is a good amount of information that depicts the monstrousity of people in a foreign land.
In Wolfram’s explanation of Malcreatiure, he begins with the story of creation in which Adam advises the women to “avoid numerous herbs that would deform human offspring and so dishonour his race” (263). In this background of Malcreatiure, we receive interesting news: Feirefiz has traveled to India where he has won land. Here in India, there are “many such people […] whose appearance was deformed and no denying it – wild, outlandish features did they display” (263)!
It is interesting to note that the Saracens in Baghdad are civilized courtly people, but there still exists people that appear monstrous – they are just in Southeast Asia. Though we have this integration of other races in this story, we find another realm where people appear deformed. Wolfram’s integration of the Biblical story of Adam helps to reinforce religious reasoning for their appearance, making the deformed heathens in the wrong.
The Queen of Secundille (leader in India) also lacks religion and instead, is extremely wealthy and does not appear to be in need. However, her attempts for further information on Anfortas and the Gral sends a multitude of gifts his way, including Cundrie and her brother, Malcreatiure. In this passage, we understand the origin of these two “human wonders” who are monstrous. It appears our main ‘monsters’ in this story actually come from India, and they are not scarce.
I want to also quickly note that Feirefiz, though he is the eldest son of Gahmuret and the genuine king, travels to ‘othered’ lands such as India for conquest. Though Feirefiz does travel to Europe later, it appears that Feirefiz’s outward appearance does not give him the right to claim his lands his father left. Instead, he must conquer his own place, and he has found a land that he can gain control. Of course, the land he conquers, India, is a land filled with deformed people.
Though I agree that Wolfram is trying to allow for a more encompassing text here in terms of race, he appears to still be confined by the attitudes of certain ‘others’ in his vision. Feirefiz is able to conquer a kingdom, but it is a land with many deformed and considered monstrous people. Is this because Feirefiz is a heathen and that’s the best he will be able to conquer? How will he fare when faced with a European like Parzival? I guess that’s for our next reading…
In Wolfram’s explanation of Malcreatiure, he begins with the story of creation in which Adam advises the women to “avoid numerous herbs that would deform human offspring and so dishonour his race” (263). In this background of Malcreatiure, we receive interesting news: Feirefiz has traveled to India where he has won land. Here in India, there are “many such people […] whose appearance was deformed and no denying it – wild, outlandish features did they display” (263)!
It is interesting to note that the Saracens in Baghdad are civilized courtly people, but there still exists people that appear monstrous – they are just in Southeast Asia. Though we have this integration of other races in this story, we find another realm where people appear deformed. Wolfram’s integration of the Biblical story of Adam helps to reinforce religious reasoning for their appearance, making the deformed heathens in the wrong.
The Queen of Secundille (leader in India) also lacks religion and instead, is extremely wealthy and does not appear to be in need. However, her attempts for further information on Anfortas and the Gral sends a multitude of gifts his way, including Cundrie and her brother, Malcreatiure. In this passage, we understand the origin of these two “human wonders” who are monstrous. It appears our main ‘monsters’ in this story actually come from India, and they are not scarce.
I want to also quickly note that Feirefiz, though he is the eldest son of Gahmuret and the genuine king, travels to ‘othered’ lands such as India for conquest. Though Feirefiz does travel to Europe later, it appears that Feirefiz’s outward appearance does not give him the right to claim his lands his father left. Instead, he must conquer his own place, and he has found a land that he can gain control. Of course, the land he conquers, India, is a land filled with deformed people.
Though I agree that Wolfram is trying to allow for a more encompassing text here in terms of race, he appears to still be confined by the attitudes of certain ‘others’ in his vision. Feirefiz is able to conquer a kingdom, but it is a land with many deformed and considered monstrous people. Is this because Feirefiz is a heathen and that’s the best he will be able to conquer? How will he fare when faced with a European like Parzival? I guess that’s for our next reading…
Saturday, November 3, 2007
What Fourth Wall?
What I'm finding most noticeable about Parzival is Wolfram von Eschenbach's regular insertions of himself into the text. We've seen the authors pop up here and there before, such as in the Nibelungenlied where an opinion is offered on the characters' behaviors that obviously comes from a source. We've never, however, had one who tears down the curtain and comes tapdancing out on stage singing, "Hello, I'm the author," quite the way Wolfram does. I'm looking into figuring out how he functions as a character in the text, and what purpose does dragging reality into this serve.
Wolfram's Apology is probably the most obvious place to look. While his other tangents are at least embedded in the page and do not break up the narrative, Apology is a separate chapter that happens right after Parzival's birth. Coming onto it in narrative form is an incredibly disorienting experience. What does it mean for the text that we are taken completely out of it at the moment it's just getting good, so to speak?
I wonder if, in some ways, Wolfram's constant removal of the curtain helps to both blur and reinforce our concepts of fantasy vs. reality in the text. What we have is an author who is announcing he is there, which serves to ground the reader in reality, to relate the story to something tangible. Wolfram insists upon relating events to reality, such as during the famine when he mentions "I, Wolfram von Eschenbach, have to make do with such comfort." (102) This lends credibility to the narrative, takes it out of the realm of pure fantasy and makes it cross a border into reality.
On the other hand, the Apology seems to enact an entirely different kind of transformation upon the text. Apology interrupts the narrative at the place of Parzival's birth to discuss, specifically, the issues brought up by another narration (a love-song, I assume of a bawdy nature, dedicated to Lady), and brings up the idea specifically of Parzival being a "story." (69) This enacts a kind of violence against the reader, who is now unable to lose themselves in the narrative, suspend disbelief in terms of fairies, and we, in fact, lose this fantasy of the perfect knight.
I have my ideas but they aren't fully fleshed out, so I'm wondering what everyone thinks the discursive repercussions of such an action could be?
Wolfram's Apology is probably the most obvious place to look. While his other tangents are at least embedded in the page and do not break up the narrative, Apology is a separate chapter that happens right after Parzival's birth. Coming onto it in narrative form is an incredibly disorienting experience. What does it mean for the text that we are taken completely out of it at the moment it's just getting good, so to speak?
I wonder if, in some ways, Wolfram's constant removal of the curtain helps to both blur and reinforce our concepts of fantasy vs. reality in the text. What we have is an author who is announcing he is there, which serves to ground the reader in reality, to relate the story to something tangible. Wolfram insists upon relating events to reality, such as during the famine when he mentions "I, Wolfram von Eschenbach, have to make do with such comfort." (102) This lends credibility to the narrative, takes it out of the realm of pure fantasy and makes it cross a border into reality.
On the other hand, the Apology seems to enact an entirely different kind of transformation upon the text. Apology interrupts the narrative at the place of Parzival's birth to discuss, specifically, the issues brought up by another narration (a love-song, I assume of a bawdy nature, dedicated to Lady), and brings up the idea specifically of Parzival being a "story." (69) This enacts a kind of violence against the reader, who is now unable to lose themselves in the narrative, suspend disbelief in terms of fairies, and we, in fact, lose this fantasy of the perfect knight.
I have my ideas but they aren't fully fleshed out, so I'm wondering what everyone thinks the discursive repercussions of such an action could be?
Friday, November 2, 2007
Parzival, Peredur, Black Sheep, and Spiritual Balance
Inspired by Katlyn's post a little while ago comparing the "discovering the knights" scenes in Parzival and Chretien de Troyes' Perceval, I went back to the Welsh story "Peredur Son of Evrawg," which, as best as anybody can determine, stands in about the same relationship to Chretien's poem as Wolfram's does, with the added twists that a) it may draw upon other French works than Chretien's specifically and b) it probably also directly preserves much of the Celtic material that formed Chretien's source. In any event, compared to the sprawling but controlled and unified Parzival, "Peredur" tends to disappoint, wandering disjointedly until it hurriedly resolves its Gral-elements (the Bloody Lance and, standing in for the Gral itself, a severed head) in a rushed and unsatisfying conclusion. (They are relics of a slain cousin - as in Wolfram's version, Peredur runs into family all over the place - whom Peredur must avenge.) En route, however, we get a great many enigmatic, beautiful, and thoroughly Celtic scenes. I want to bring up one in particular, occuring while Peredur is on his way to kill a monster (in the middle of a larger quest to kill another "serpent"):
"Peredur rode on towards a river valley whose edges were forested, with level meadows on both sides of the river; on one bank there was a flock of white sheep, and on the other a flock of black sheep. When a white sheep bleated a black sheep would cross the river and turn white, and when a black sheep bleated a white sheep would cross the river and turn black. On the bank of the river he saw a tall tree: from roots to crown one half was aflame and the other green with leaves" (243).
It would be almost sinful to subject something this weird and wonderful to "interpretation." Instead, I merely want to note, more or less in passing, the striking congruence between the imagery of this scene and not only the specific imagery but also the broader thematics of Wolfram's work. (Wolfram bizarrely echoes the final image here during Trevrizent's description of the exotic locales he visited during his chivalric days: "I have...ridden many fine jousts at Agremontin, below its mountain, where if you issue your challenge on one side fiery men sally forth, whereas on the other the jousters you see are not on fire" [252].)
The black and white Welsh sheep ceaselessly transforming into one another, and the hybrid, half-burning tree, could serve as a reification of Wolfram's vast and complex concern with blackness and whiteness, their interplay and mutual transitions, and the hybridity which can be created by these interactions. Established in the poem's opening paragraph, this thematic network obviously surfaces in its physical descriptions of race and religion (themselves not equivalent or synonymous: Belacane has "seen many a fair-skinned heathen" [27]) and surfaces again in its spiritual dynamics: "Light and Darkness and how different they are" (72). We have talked a little bit in class about these corresponding spiritual and physical oppositions, and about the degree to which the one maps onto the other - the extent to which racial or external religious difference concretizes inferiority, "perfidy," "infidelity," or even greater degrees of inner "blackness" or evil.
The answer seems to be, "Not a great deal," if indeed at all, but by using the terms and images that he does Wolfram makes it an unavoidable and recurrent question. Very interestingly, the defeated parties in a tournament "had had their hides tanned for them with kicks and cudgels, their skins were black with bruises" (48). This seems to encode defeat or inferiority in black skin but at the same time diminishes its exotic inflection and its essentialism: Christian Europeans can, through misdeeds or failures, become black in spirit and, effectively, in hue. Against this evidentiary molehill must be set the mountains dealing with Belacane and other "heathens," which, again as we've discussed, almost approach an idea of natural piety and non- (or extra-) Christian salvation. Cundrie and her emphatic, "You think me monstrous, yet I am less monstrous, far, than you!" (164), is of course relevant here, and generally Wolfram takes pains to affirm and describe how external appearance and internal virtues or qualities do not correlate: "When a woman [and a man too, it seems] acts to the best of her nature you will not find me surveying her complexion or probing what shields her heart: if she be proofed within her breast her good name is safe from harm" (16). Yet both Belacane and Cundrie (who, we learn, does come from a "heathen" realm, "the land of Tribalibot beside the River Ganges," where her people "grow...from dire mischance" [263]) have their complexions surveyed at great length, nor does Wolfram allow us to forget their details. (For its part, "Peredur" is sprinkled with "black men" of generally hostile or antisocial tendencies, although its monstrous Cundrie-analogue transforms at the end into "a yellow-haired lad" [256] - in fact, another cousin of Peredur's.)
The spiritual trajectory of the poem, centered on the fall and redemption of Parzival, gradually overshadows these racial and religious aspects, and although the physical and spiritual still do not come anywhere close to an equation, physical and external differences do seem to become inflected, more and more, along spiritual lines. Anfortas' devastating wound is dealt by "a heathen born of Ethnise," who, tellingly, provides a parallel to Parzival's fallen state, seeking the Gral while alienated from God: "This pagan was convinced that his valour would earn him the Gral....He sought chivalric encounters in different countries, crossing seas and lands with no other thought than to win the Gral" (244). On the other hand, Trevrizent chalks up Anfortas' suffering equally to his own sin and error, and the pagan who wounded him models Parzival's current spiritual condition. Once again, heathendom and blackness are not essential qualities and do not lie beyond the potential range of Christian Europeans. Yet on the other hand again, that pagan does not get Parzival's opportunity for penitence and redemption: "let us not waste our tears on him" (244).
I won't try to pursue this immensely complex topic much further, but I want to touch on one more thing. In her post on Parzival's spiritual otherness, Ines talks about Parzival's journey towards a state "that contains a fine balance between a feminine and masculine principle, light and dark, heaven and hell, the polarities Wolfram is constantly invoking." The importance of this state of balance and hybridity in the poem can hardly be overemphasized: it is the state described in the opening paragraph ("such a man may yet make merry, for Heaven and Hell have equal part in him" [15]), it is Feirefiz's state, and, insofar as the spiritual and physical form another polarity which the poem has yet to reconcile or resolve, it is the state of the poem itself. Trevrizent's discourses establish the Incarnation as still another example of such hybridity: "God Himself took on a countenance like that of the first virgin's son, a condescension from His sublimity" (237); "[God] is a light that shines through all things....Thoughts are darkness unlit by any beam. But of its nature, the Godhead is translucent, it shines through the wall of darkness" (238). Finally, it seems to be the condition of or represented by the Gral itself, "left...on earth" (232) by the Neutral Angels, "those who did not take sides" (240).
However, Wolfram makes equally clear that this balance is not an end state. It prevails within the world, but the spiritual trajectory charted by the poem ultimately seems to lead out of it, into unambiguous light and salvation or into their opposites. As Trevrizent notes of the Neutral Angels, "I do not know whether God forgave them or damned them in the end" (240). Apparently, though, He did one or the other. That divided tree will either burn down or flourish into complete greenery; those sheep can't keep crossing back and forth forever. Their complex hybridities and transmogrifications prevail only during the time of Peredur's transit past.
As one final wrinkle, in Wolfram's conceit his poem itself has been translated from "the tale in heathenish script" discovered by "Master Kyot....It helped him that he was a baptized Christian - otherwise this tale would still be unknown. No infidel art would avail us to reveal the nature of the Gral and how one came to know its secrets" (232). Wolfram represents his own poem as itself a black sheep in the act of crossing the river to become white.
Quotations from "Peredur Son of Evrawg" from The Mabinogion. Trans. Jeffrey Gantz. London: Penguin Books, 1976. 217-257.
"Peredur rode on towards a river valley whose edges were forested, with level meadows on both sides of the river; on one bank there was a flock of white sheep, and on the other a flock of black sheep. When a white sheep bleated a black sheep would cross the river and turn white, and when a black sheep bleated a white sheep would cross the river and turn black. On the bank of the river he saw a tall tree: from roots to crown one half was aflame and the other green with leaves" (243).
It would be almost sinful to subject something this weird and wonderful to "interpretation." Instead, I merely want to note, more or less in passing, the striking congruence between the imagery of this scene and not only the specific imagery but also the broader thematics of Wolfram's work. (Wolfram bizarrely echoes the final image here during Trevrizent's description of the exotic locales he visited during his chivalric days: "I have...ridden many fine jousts at Agremontin, below its mountain, where if you issue your challenge on one side fiery men sally forth, whereas on the other the jousters you see are not on fire" [252].)
The black and white Welsh sheep ceaselessly transforming into one another, and the hybrid, half-burning tree, could serve as a reification of Wolfram's vast and complex concern with blackness and whiteness, their interplay and mutual transitions, and the hybridity which can be created by these interactions. Established in the poem's opening paragraph, this thematic network obviously surfaces in its physical descriptions of race and religion (themselves not equivalent or synonymous: Belacane has "seen many a fair-skinned heathen" [27]) and surfaces again in its spiritual dynamics: "Light and Darkness and how different they are" (72). We have talked a little bit in class about these corresponding spiritual and physical oppositions, and about the degree to which the one maps onto the other - the extent to which racial or external religious difference concretizes inferiority, "perfidy," "infidelity," or even greater degrees of inner "blackness" or evil.
The answer seems to be, "Not a great deal," if indeed at all, but by using the terms and images that he does Wolfram makes it an unavoidable and recurrent question. Very interestingly, the defeated parties in a tournament "had had their hides tanned for them with kicks and cudgels, their skins were black with bruises" (48). This seems to encode defeat or inferiority in black skin but at the same time diminishes its exotic inflection and its essentialism: Christian Europeans can, through misdeeds or failures, become black in spirit and, effectively, in hue. Against this evidentiary molehill must be set the mountains dealing with Belacane and other "heathens," which, again as we've discussed, almost approach an idea of natural piety and non- (or extra-) Christian salvation. Cundrie and her emphatic, "You think me monstrous, yet I am less monstrous, far, than you!" (164), is of course relevant here, and generally Wolfram takes pains to affirm and describe how external appearance and internal virtues or qualities do not correlate: "When a woman [and a man too, it seems] acts to the best of her nature you will not find me surveying her complexion or probing what shields her heart: if she be proofed within her breast her good name is safe from harm" (16). Yet both Belacane and Cundrie (who, we learn, does come from a "heathen" realm, "the land of Tribalibot beside the River Ganges," where her people "grow...from dire mischance" [263]) have their complexions surveyed at great length, nor does Wolfram allow us to forget their details. (For its part, "Peredur" is sprinkled with "black men" of generally hostile or antisocial tendencies, although its monstrous Cundrie-analogue transforms at the end into "a yellow-haired lad" [256] - in fact, another cousin of Peredur's.)
The spiritual trajectory of the poem, centered on the fall and redemption of Parzival, gradually overshadows these racial and religious aspects, and although the physical and spiritual still do not come anywhere close to an equation, physical and external differences do seem to become inflected, more and more, along spiritual lines. Anfortas' devastating wound is dealt by "a heathen born of Ethnise," who, tellingly, provides a parallel to Parzival's fallen state, seeking the Gral while alienated from God: "This pagan was convinced that his valour would earn him the Gral....He sought chivalric encounters in different countries, crossing seas and lands with no other thought than to win the Gral" (244). On the other hand, Trevrizent chalks up Anfortas' suffering equally to his own sin and error, and the pagan who wounded him models Parzival's current spiritual condition. Once again, heathendom and blackness are not essential qualities and do not lie beyond the potential range of Christian Europeans. Yet on the other hand again, that pagan does not get Parzival's opportunity for penitence and redemption: "let us not waste our tears on him" (244).
I won't try to pursue this immensely complex topic much further, but I want to touch on one more thing. In her post on Parzival's spiritual otherness, Ines talks about Parzival's journey towards a state "that contains a fine balance between a feminine and masculine principle, light and dark, heaven and hell, the polarities Wolfram is constantly invoking." The importance of this state of balance and hybridity in the poem can hardly be overemphasized: it is the state described in the opening paragraph ("such a man may yet make merry, for Heaven and Hell have equal part in him" [15]), it is Feirefiz's state, and, insofar as the spiritual and physical form another polarity which the poem has yet to reconcile or resolve, it is the state of the poem itself. Trevrizent's discourses establish the Incarnation as still another example of such hybridity: "God Himself took on a countenance like that of the first virgin's son, a condescension from His sublimity" (237); "[God] is a light that shines through all things....Thoughts are darkness unlit by any beam. But of its nature, the Godhead is translucent, it shines through the wall of darkness" (238). Finally, it seems to be the condition of or represented by the Gral itself, "left...on earth" (232) by the Neutral Angels, "those who did not take sides" (240).
However, Wolfram makes equally clear that this balance is not an end state. It prevails within the world, but the spiritual trajectory charted by the poem ultimately seems to lead out of it, into unambiguous light and salvation or into their opposites. As Trevrizent notes of the Neutral Angels, "I do not know whether God forgave them or damned them in the end" (240). Apparently, though, He did one or the other. That divided tree will either burn down or flourish into complete greenery; those sheep can't keep crossing back and forth forever. Their complex hybridities and transmogrifications prevail only during the time of Peredur's transit past.
As one final wrinkle, in Wolfram's conceit his poem itself has been translated from "the tale in heathenish script" discovered by "Master Kyot....It helped him that he was a baptized Christian - otherwise this tale would still be unknown. No infidel art would avail us to reveal the nature of the Gral and how one came to know its secrets" (232). Wolfram represents his own poem as itself a black sheep in the act of crossing the river to become white.
Quotations from "Peredur Son of Evrawg" from The Mabinogion. Trans. Jeffrey Gantz. London: Penguin Books, 1976. 217-257.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Parzival's Spiritual Otherness
Previously I argued that Gahmuret appeared to be the ‘ideal hero’ or knight for a number of reasons page twenty establishes; he exhibits humility, does not give into boasting in order to reaffirm or validate his honor, is ‘free of loose desires,’ and is dictated by his ‘inmost’ desire to serve god. Yet, this last virtue others him within the story, and simultaneously, appears to elevate him spiritually above the others. Gahmurets associations with the ermine and the color green reinforce his transformation into a demi god, or better said, a ‘spiritual other.’ Page 62 establishes how Parzival can be seen as figuratively embodying his father, as well as inheriting this particular element, this spiritual elevation. In the second section of “Parzival,” there are many instances where we see Parzival coming into his own identity, that of a knight, and this godly quality he’s inherited from his father seems to evolve as well; it appears to be boundless at times, and threatens to push Parzival into the realm of the ‘monstrous.’
The presence of God is repeatedly invoked in this section, and I think purposely whenever Parzival is present, for his actions, like his father’s, seem to illustrate a need to serve god or a godly-force. If we are to compare the Parzival on page 110 who exhibits ‘restraint,’ with the Parzival that on page 77 ‘forced Jeschute’s mouth in his and crushed her breast to his,’ we discover a dramatic shift in the character. Parzival does not consummate his marriage to the Queen of Belrepeire until the third night. Prior to this, the queen had slipped into his room, and I thought it was curious how Parzival page 106 woken up by her ‘weeping,’ tells her she should be ‘kneeling’ to God. Before this, Parzival’s conception of God seemed uncertain or not yet solidified, for he equated God with the Knights. Page 106 clearly establishes his knew conception of God, and I think the restraint he exhibits isn’t only because he doesn’t want to taint the love he shares for Liaze (Condwiramurs), but because he does not want to stray off the ‘Christian path.’ The Queen soon disappears from the story, and Parzival’s fight to protect her kingdom is driven by his love for Liaze. Thus, one could argue that like his father who left Belacane, Parzival leaves the Queen of Belrepeire, in order to stay on the ‘right path,’ and stay true to his love; this love, in it’s constancy or fidelity, I think is suppose to reflect a kind of ‘Godly love,’ a love that’s has both a feminine and masculine principle. Do tell me if I’m reading too much into these elements though!
Chapter 5 seems to push Parzival into the realm of a ‘spiritual other,’ rather than a demi-god. Parzival is othered when he enters Wildenberg, an unknown country where ‘the merry sounds of dance or bohort’ have never been heard, and yet he seems to have been led there by some divine force; at the same time, he’s instilled with a divine purpose he’s unaware of, and has ‘chanced upon the gral.’ I believe he’s ‘spiritually othered,’ when Sigune states: ‘If an end has been put to his (Anfortas) agony, happy you for your Heaven-blest journey.’ ‘Heaven blest journey,’ seems to establish Parzival’s chance meeting with the Gral to be dictated or led by some Godly force. Yet, this is the only element that makes Parzival a spiritual other. On page 122, before joining Anfortas, ‘the host,’ and in response to ‘a man deft in speech,’ Parzival, “clenched his fist so hard that the blood shot through his nails and sleeve.’ Whether or not Parzival superhuman or supernatural strength come from a ‘God’ or perhaps his ‘fairy blood,’ can be debated, but I do think that both seem to be working here in order to distinguish Parzival from all of the other characters in the book, including his father, who never, if my memory serves me, never exhibited this kind of strength. In addition to this, on page 140 Parzival exhibits this super-human strength once again when he ‘gives Orilus such a hug that a rain of blood spurted through his visor.’ If Parzival can be seen as inheriting this kind of ‘spiritual elevation’ or ‘spiritual otherness' from his father, it does seem to be playing out at these particular points of the story.
One must keep in mind that Parzival is still coming into his own, and Gahmuret’s advice on abstaining from ‘questioning,’ seems to be reinforce this. I think Parzival hasn’t learned how to harness this kind of spirit or power he has, hence why this reaction and superhuman strength could be mistook for ‘monstrousness.’ Nonetheless, a monstrous quality can be found physically in Parzival for his reaction seems to consist of ‘rage,’ which we’ve seen as an intrinsic quality in the other monsters we’ve encountered in this class. Also, Parzival here still remains mortal, for he does bleed, but there’s a strange tension between his strength and mortality; his super-power doesn’t threaten his mortality, and this might hint to how he’s transformed into a spiritual other. Parzival’s spiritual inheritance, as well as how his beauty is equated with ‘God,’ reinforces this. In addition to these elements that strengthen this last argument, Parzival seems to be the only character that’s actually capable of saving Anfortas and the only one, outside of Wildenberg, that comes in contact with and can obtain the Gral. Yet he fails! But this is due to the fact that he’s still developing, emotionally, morally, spiritually, and even physically. The promise of redeeming himself is readily felt when the sorceress appears, and when he learns ‘shame.’ In light of all of this, Parzival does seem to be dictated by a godly force, and at this point of the story, he does not seem conscious of his desire to serve god. Yet, Parzival’s ‘fleeing and pursuing’ could be said to be a ‘heaven blest journey,’ or a ‘spiritual journey,’ leading him towards a godly love (Liaze) that contains a fine balance between a feminine and masculine principle, light and dark, heaven and hell, the polarities Wolfram is constantly invoking throughout the story; it is also a journey that’s leading and equipping him with the tools (spiritual and material) he’ll need to obtain the gral. Moreover, the goose, I think is also symbolic of this spiritual journey, for it is a bird of ‘heaven.' Parzival falls into a trance after seeing the goose's ‘three red tears’ that invoke the image of Condwiramurs (love), and suffers from a knight’s blows. These blows are necessary, and in enduring them Parzival experiences the ‘suffering’ that’s essential to 'repenting' for having wronged Jeschute. I think he grows spiritually after this; he becomes yet again a spiritual other as a result not only because he's the only one that suffers in this particular way, but because this 'suffering' speaks to a divine purpose.
Page 160 seems to solidify the fact that Parzival is a spiritual-other when it states, “But for a lack of wings Parzival bore the marks of an angel that had blossomed out on this earth.” Simultaneously he seems to have fallen from grace (lack of wings), and yet, appears as a spiritual entity equated with the heavens. Here, Parzival is illustrated as a ‘spiritual other,’ that walks the earth, and it will be interesting to see how he fully embodies this ‘spiritual otherness’ as the story continues; it will also be interesting to witness just how his spiritual inheritance plays out.
The presence of God is repeatedly invoked in this section, and I think purposely whenever Parzival is present, for his actions, like his father’s, seem to illustrate a need to serve god or a godly-force. If we are to compare the Parzival on page 110 who exhibits ‘restraint,’ with the Parzival that on page 77 ‘forced Jeschute’s mouth in his and crushed her breast to his,’ we discover a dramatic shift in the character. Parzival does not consummate his marriage to the Queen of Belrepeire until the third night. Prior to this, the queen had slipped into his room, and I thought it was curious how Parzival page 106 woken up by her ‘weeping,’ tells her she should be ‘kneeling’ to God. Before this, Parzival’s conception of God seemed uncertain or not yet solidified, for he equated God with the Knights. Page 106 clearly establishes his knew conception of God, and I think the restraint he exhibits isn’t only because he doesn’t want to taint the love he shares for Liaze (Condwiramurs), but because he does not want to stray off the ‘Christian path.’ The Queen soon disappears from the story, and Parzival’s fight to protect her kingdom is driven by his love for Liaze. Thus, one could argue that like his father who left Belacane, Parzival leaves the Queen of Belrepeire, in order to stay on the ‘right path,’ and stay true to his love; this love, in it’s constancy or fidelity, I think is suppose to reflect a kind of ‘Godly love,’ a love that’s has both a feminine and masculine principle. Do tell me if I’m reading too much into these elements though!
Chapter 5 seems to push Parzival into the realm of a ‘spiritual other,’ rather than a demi-god. Parzival is othered when he enters Wildenberg, an unknown country where ‘the merry sounds of dance or bohort’ have never been heard, and yet he seems to have been led there by some divine force; at the same time, he’s instilled with a divine purpose he’s unaware of, and has ‘chanced upon the gral.’ I believe he’s ‘spiritually othered,’ when Sigune states: ‘If an end has been put to his (Anfortas) agony, happy you for your Heaven-blest journey.’ ‘Heaven blest journey,’ seems to establish Parzival’s chance meeting with the Gral to be dictated or led by some Godly force. Yet, this is the only element that makes Parzival a spiritual other. On page 122, before joining Anfortas, ‘the host,’ and in response to ‘a man deft in speech,’ Parzival, “clenched his fist so hard that the blood shot through his nails and sleeve.’ Whether or not Parzival superhuman or supernatural strength come from a ‘God’ or perhaps his ‘fairy blood,’ can be debated, but I do think that both seem to be working here in order to distinguish Parzival from all of the other characters in the book, including his father, who never, if my memory serves me, never exhibited this kind of strength. In addition to this, on page 140 Parzival exhibits this super-human strength once again when he ‘gives Orilus such a hug that a rain of blood spurted through his visor.’ If Parzival can be seen as inheriting this kind of ‘spiritual elevation’ or ‘spiritual otherness' from his father, it does seem to be playing out at these particular points of the story.
One must keep in mind that Parzival is still coming into his own, and Gahmuret’s advice on abstaining from ‘questioning,’ seems to be reinforce this. I think Parzival hasn’t learned how to harness this kind of spirit or power he has, hence why this reaction and superhuman strength could be mistook for ‘monstrousness.’ Nonetheless, a monstrous quality can be found physically in Parzival for his reaction seems to consist of ‘rage,’ which we’ve seen as an intrinsic quality in the other monsters we’ve encountered in this class. Also, Parzival here still remains mortal, for he does bleed, but there’s a strange tension between his strength and mortality; his super-power doesn’t threaten his mortality, and this might hint to how he’s transformed into a spiritual other. Parzival’s spiritual inheritance, as well as how his beauty is equated with ‘God,’ reinforces this. In addition to these elements that strengthen this last argument, Parzival seems to be the only character that’s actually capable of saving Anfortas and the only one, outside of Wildenberg, that comes in contact with and can obtain the Gral. Yet he fails! But this is due to the fact that he’s still developing, emotionally, morally, spiritually, and even physically. The promise of redeeming himself is readily felt when the sorceress appears, and when he learns ‘shame.’ In light of all of this, Parzival does seem to be dictated by a godly force, and at this point of the story, he does not seem conscious of his desire to serve god. Yet, Parzival’s ‘fleeing and pursuing’ could be said to be a ‘heaven blest journey,’ or a ‘spiritual journey,’ leading him towards a godly love (Liaze) that contains a fine balance between a feminine and masculine principle, light and dark, heaven and hell, the polarities Wolfram is constantly invoking throughout the story; it is also a journey that’s leading and equipping him with the tools (spiritual and material) he’ll need to obtain the gral. Moreover, the goose, I think is also symbolic of this spiritual journey, for it is a bird of ‘heaven.' Parzival falls into a trance after seeing the goose's ‘three red tears’ that invoke the image of Condwiramurs (love), and suffers from a knight’s blows. These blows are necessary, and in enduring them Parzival experiences the ‘suffering’ that’s essential to 'repenting' for having wronged Jeschute. I think he grows spiritually after this; he becomes yet again a spiritual other as a result not only because he's the only one that suffers in this particular way, but because this 'suffering' speaks to a divine purpose.
Page 160 seems to solidify the fact that Parzival is a spiritual-other when it states, “But for a lack of wings Parzival bore the marks of an angel that had blossomed out on this earth.” Simultaneously he seems to have fallen from grace (lack of wings), and yet, appears as a spiritual entity equated with the heavens. Here, Parzival is illustrated as a ‘spiritual other,’ that walks the earth, and it will be interesting to see how he fully embodies this ‘spiritual otherness’ as the story continues; it will also be interesting to witness just how his spiritual inheritance plays out.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Parzival the Son
As with a lot of medieval texts, the position of the son plays an important role in Parzival. We’ve seen lineage as an important part of the self in almost all of the previous pieces. With Beowulf, with Siegfried, and with Gawain, their familial ties link the reader to a concrete definition of the self. The fathers, or in Gawain’s case the uncle, establish their standing, outside the context of the narrative as a significant hero or a person of elevated standing, and thereby the actions of the son build on the honor and elevated status of the father. The poets of Beowulf and The Nibelungenlied seem to expect the same sort of behavior from the son as they have seen or heard of from the father.
However, with regards to Parzival, the son cannot draw upon the expectations of his father to define the self. He only has his mother’s fosterage and his inborn otherness (the distant relationship to faries), which prove to be detrimental to forming relationships with others. In every way, Parzival is so far removed from the realm of chivalric practice and knightly behavior that it’s surprising that the knights he meets in the forest even recognize him as anything but what he’s dressed like: a backwoods, isolated hick.
Perhaps, like his half-brother Feirefiz, Parzival has inherited a part of his father that is visible even beneath the clothing. I’m speaking, of course of Feirefiz’s patches of white skin against the contrast of his black skin. Just as Gahmuret’s legacy is clearly visible on the skin of his half-heathen baby, so Parzival retains a visible kind of legacy on his person in place of the more tangible material links Beowulf and Siegfried retained with their fathers. It might be a bit of a stretch, but in the absence of the constant reminder of his father’s exceptional reputation or the father’s inheritance, the sons of Gahmuret take instead the legacy of their father in less concrete and more personal ways.
The knights he encounters, Gurnemanz in particular, make it clear that although he is noble in bearing, his education is inadequate. Gurnemanz tells Parzival to discard the teachings of his mother and asserts his knightly education as the superior education: “Keep to my advice, it will save you from wrongdoing.” (Von Eschenbach 95) What’s most shocking about Gurnemanz’s reeducation of Parzival is that he feels the need to emphasize “Hold ladies in high esteem: that heightens a young man’s worth.” (Von Eschenbach 96) One would think that in a home environment with only the mother present Parzival would have learned that lesson intrinsically. His mother has raised him so poorly, however, that he has to have another knight teach him about honoring women. Is it that ludicrous to assume that a Parzival needs a father-figure in order to know how to honor women? (Especially given some of the stellar examples of the fair and noble treatment of women in some of the pieces this semester.)
Despite the fact that his mother raises him in isolation from the knightly, chivalric world, Parzival’s successes in his new knightly identity are not attributed to the primary caregiver. As the father or the lord in charge of his wardship, Parzival’s successes and failures reflect back on those who raised him. In this sense, Parzival’s natural affinity for the knightly lifestyle can be referenced back to Gahmuret, not to Herzeloyde.
The fact that Parzival is so inept in relating to the outside world speaks more about the poet’s biases about the mental failings of women. Only a man, specifically a father, can properly teach a boy about the proper way to present oneself. In a roundabout way, Wolfram is reaffirming the otherness of woman by giving us the shortcomings of a boy fostered exclusively by his mother. In a sense, nothing Parzival does is his own failing; it’s his mother’s. Of course, the argument could be made that it’s not Herzeloyde’s mental deficiencies that are being denigrated; it’s her education, which was not available to her. The notion that ignorance is a forgivable shortcoming in Parzival is quite disturbing to me. As modern readers, we expect ignorance to be othering and isolating, but in Parzival, his ignorance is acceptable, forgivable, since blame can be displaced so easily. Parzival’s arrested development is due to his mother’s inadequate life training, which is due to the father’s untimely death, and the father’s legacy or absence, in the case of Parzival, serves to make him the Other.
However, with regards to Parzival, the son cannot draw upon the expectations of his father to define the self. He only has his mother’s fosterage and his inborn otherness (the distant relationship to faries), which prove to be detrimental to forming relationships with others. In every way, Parzival is so far removed from the realm of chivalric practice and knightly behavior that it’s surprising that the knights he meets in the forest even recognize him as anything but what he’s dressed like: a backwoods, isolated hick.
Perhaps, like his half-brother Feirefiz, Parzival has inherited a part of his father that is visible even beneath the clothing. I’m speaking, of course of Feirefiz’s patches of white skin against the contrast of his black skin. Just as Gahmuret’s legacy is clearly visible on the skin of his half-heathen baby, so Parzival retains a visible kind of legacy on his person in place of the more tangible material links Beowulf and Siegfried retained with their fathers. It might be a bit of a stretch, but in the absence of the constant reminder of his father’s exceptional reputation or the father’s inheritance, the sons of Gahmuret take instead the legacy of their father in less concrete and more personal ways.
The knights he encounters, Gurnemanz in particular, make it clear that although he is noble in bearing, his education is inadequate. Gurnemanz tells Parzival to discard the teachings of his mother and asserts his knightly education as the superior education: “Keep to my advice, it will save you from wrongdoing.” (Von Eschenbach 95) What’s most shocking about Gurnemanz’s reeducation of Parzival is that he feels the need to emphasize “Hold ladies in high esteem: that heightens a young man’s worth.” (Von Eschenbach 96) One would think that in a home environment with only the mother present Parzival would have learned that lesson intrinsically. His mother has raised him so poorly, however, that he has to have another knight teach him about honoring women. Is it that ludicrous to assume that a Parzival needs a father-figure in order to know how to honor women? (Especially given some of the stellar examples of the fair and noble treatment of women in some of the pieces this semester.)
Despite the fact that his mother raises him in isolation from the knightly, chivalric world, Parzival’s successes in his new knightly identity are not attributed to the primary caregiver. As the father or the lord in charge of his wardship, Parzival’s successes and failures reflect back on those who raised him. In this sense, Parzival’s natural affinity for the knightly lifestyle can be referenced back to Gahmuret, not to Herzeloyde.
The fact that Parzival is so inept in relating to the outside world speaks more about the poet’s biases about the mental failings of women. Only a man, specifically a father, can properly teach a boy about the proper way to present oneself. In a roundabout way, Wolfram is reaffirming the otherness of woman by giving us the shortcomings of a boy fostered exclusively by his mother. In a sense, nothing Parzival does is his own failing; it’s his mother’s. Of course, the argument could be made that it’s not Herzeloyde’s mental deficiencies that are being denigrated; it’s her education, which was not available to her. The notion that ignorance is a forgivable shortcoming in Parzival is quite disturbing to me. As modern readers, we expect ignorance to be othering and isolating, but in Parzival, his ignorance is acceptable, forgivable, since blame can be displaced so easily. Parzival’s arrested development is due to his mother’s inadequate life training, which is due to the father’s untimely death, and the father’s legacy or absence, in the case of Parzival, serves to make him the Other.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Give me a hand, here!
In beginning the text of Parzival, one small motif struck me – the integration of hands. The hands are an intimate part of the body in this text and appear to have more meaning than simply anatomized. They are given meaning through God and reveal ethnicity. Though we have just begun this text, it is interesting to map out the change in the use of hands between the father, Gahmuret, and the son, Parzival.
The story beings with Gahmuret and his relations with beautiful queens. On his journey to the Zazamanc kingdom of Queen Belacane. At the sight of the mourning queen, Gahmuret says, “whatever it is that has vexed or vexes you, if this right hand can ward it off, let it be duly appointed to your service” (25). Gahmuret is ready to aid this Queen if he has the stamina to do it. He offers is hands, that is, his ability to act, in order to appease this Queen. However, the right hand could also be meant as the hand of God, which will bring those wronged to justice. Though the Queen and her court are heathens, Gahmuret finds reason to enact justice to those victimized by the opposing army. At any rate, the Queen agrees and Gahmuret goes out to handle the enemy.
The use of hands in this chapter helps to emphasize an intimacy between the characters as well. In serving Gahmuret at dinner, the Queen “with her own hand carved him a good helping” (29). Not only is this an intimate scene between the two characters, but there is a subversion of the standard classes. The queen is serving a knight, and is acting outside of her standards. The hands in this scene present honor and faithfulness to Gahmuret, who is uncertain how to react. This scene along with the next helps to disarm Gahmuret from the Queen’s advances. The Queen takes power in her hands after Gahmuret’s victory in battle. When he returns, “the Queen disarmed him with her own dark hands” (34). Queen Belcane has control over Gahmuret and utilizes it in this scene. Another interesting point is the reference to her “dark hands,” a reoccurring motif to the ethnic differences between them. The use of her ethnicity here is able to disarm Gahmuret and subject him to her will, just as Gahmuret requested to lend a hand with the battle. The Queen has the upper hand in this situation, which enables her to separate Gahmuret from competition for a year.
In the following chapter, Gahmuret heads to Kanvoleis, where he participates in a tournament. During the games, Gahmuret is given a letter written by the Queen Ampflise. Before Gahmuret opened the letter, “at the sight of her hand he bowed” (49). This handwritten letter is an honorable token and also shows signs of intimacy. Aside from the fact that it is a document professing the Queen’s love for Gahmuret, it is an action that disarms Gahmuret much like Queen Belacane’s servitude of food as previously stated. When inspecting the bruises on Gahmuret, the Queen used her “soft white hands that bore the signs of God’s handiwork” (54). Here is yet another ethnic distinction to the hands, however, these hands are associated with being created by God, whereas Queen Belacane’s heathen hands are in lack.
In the third chapter, we see Parzival taking rings from women’s hands unexpectedly and causing their ruin. When he meets King Arthur and eagerly accepts to challenge Ither, the page, “Iwanet took him by the hand and led him” (86). This hand-holding is on the level of friendship, but also a leader/follower action to Parzival’s destiny. The holding of hands seems to carry a connection between the two characters. Parzival is described as a boy in these scenes, and is comparatively the same age as the page. This gesture of holding hands seems to promote a sense of equality between the page and soon-to-be knight. Parzival is handed his opportunity to display his purpose for knighthood and is unexpectedly victorious.
It seems to be that the hand intimacy of the queens to Gahmuret lead to his delay in action and the intimacy of handholding between Parzival and the page show his rising to knighthood. The hands that guide Gahmuret appear to get him off track, and he is detained in a kingdom (or two), whereas Parzival is led by the hand to his destiny of becoming a noble knight. What contrasts these characters is their actions in being presented with a hand. For Gahmuret, he offers is hand in marriage twice, but abandons his first wife and is killed while away from his second. Parzival simply takes the hand of the noble and proceeds to his goal – to be a knight.
The story beings with Gahmuret and his relations with beautiful queens. On his journey to the Zazamanc kingdom of Queen Belacane. At the sight of the mourning queen, Gahmuret says, “whatever it is that has vexed or vexes you, if this right hand can ward it off, let it be duly appointed to your service” (25). Gahmuret is ready to aid this Queen if he has the stamina to do it. He offers is hands, that is, his ability to act, in order to appease this Queen. However, the right hand could also be meant as the hand of God, which will bring those wronged to justice. Though the Queen and her court are heathens, Gahmuret finds reason to enact justice to those victimized by the opposing army. At any rate, the Queen agrees and Gahmuret goes out to handle the enemy.
The use of hands in this chapter helps to emphasize an intimacy between the characters as well. In serving Gahmuret at dinner, the Queen “with her own hand carved him a good helping” (29). Not only is this an intimate scene between the two characters, but there is a subversion of the standard classes. The queen is serving a knight, and is acting outside of her standards. The hands in this scene present honor and faithfulness to Gahmuret, who is uncertain how to react. This scene along with the next helps to disarm Gahmuret from the Queen’s advances. The Queen takes power in her hands after Gahmuret’s victory in battle. When he returns, “the Queen disarmed him with her own dark hands” (34). Queen Belcane has control over Gahmuret and utilizes it in this scene. Another interesting point is the reference to her “dark hands,” a reoccurring motif to the ethnic differences between them. The use of her ethnicity here is able to disarm Gahmuret and subject him to her will, just as Gahmuret requested to lend a hand with the battle. The Queen has the upper hand in this situation, which enables her to separate Gahmuret from competition for a year.
In the following chapter, Gahmuret heads to Kanvoleis, where he participates in a tournament. During the games, Gahmuret is given a letter written by the Queen Ampflise. Before Gahmuret opened the letter, “at the sight of her hand he bowed” (49). This handwritten letter is an honorable token and also shows signs of intimacy. Aside from the fact that it is a document professing the Queen’s love for Gahmuret, it is an action that disarms Gahmuret much like Queen Belacane’s servitude of food as previously stated. When inspecting the bruises on Gahmuret, the Queen used her “soft white hands that bore the signs of God’s handiwork” (54). Here is yet another ethnic distinction to the hands, however, these hands are associated with being created by God, whereas Queen Belacane’s heathen hands are in lack.
In the third chapter, we see Parzival taking rings from women’s hands unexpectedly and causing their ruin. When he meets King Arthur and eagerly accepts to challenge Ither, the page, “Iwanet took him by the hand and led him” (86). This hand-holding is on the level of friendship, but also a leader/follower action to Parzival’s destiny. The holding of hands seems to carry a connection between the two characters. Parzival is described as a boy in these scenes, and is comparatively the same age as the page. This gesture of holding hands seems to promote a sense of equality between the page and soon-to-be knight. Parzival is handed his opportunity to display his purpose for knighthood and is unexpectedly victorious.
It seems to be that the hand intimacy of the queens to Gahmuret lead to his delay in action and the intimacy of handholding between Parzival and the page show his rising to knighthood. The hands that guide Gahmuret appear to get him off track, and he is detained in a kingdom (or two), whereas Parzival is led by the hand to his destiny of becoming a noble knight. What contrasts these characters is their actions in being presented with a hand. For Gahmuret, he offers is hand in marriage twice, but abandons his first wife and is killed while away from his second. Parzival simply takes the hand of the noble and proceeds to his goal – to be a knight.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Discovering the Knights: A Look at Troyes & Eschenbach
In the "Foreword" of Eschenbach's "Parzival," Hatto reminds the reader that Eschenbach did not base his text of Troyes' "The Story of the Grail (Perceval)," but on "the otherwise unknown 'Kyot the Provencal'" (p.10). Although this is the case, I thought it would be interesting to point of the similarities and differences that exist between the beginning of the two texts; particularly in the discovering of the knights scene.
While Eschenbach's text provides us with two hefty chapter's explaining how Parzival came to be, Troyes text begins with the discovery of the knights. All we know of Perceval is that he is "the son of the widow lady of the Waste Forest" (p.382). In Troyes version when the knights are galloping towards him(there are five of them, not three as in Eschenbach) Perceval thinks that devils are coming. He decides that when he sees whatever is making such a noise, that he will strike them down. This is our first indication that Perceval has a violent side. In the Eschenbach text, Parzival sees the knights immediately and drops to his knees, thinking each a "god" (p.72). He does not react violently; however, his violent tenedencies are apparent in his killing of birds on the prior page.
Moreover, in the Eschenbach text, the head knight, Karnahkarnanz, is almost pleased to be associating with Parzival. He frequently makes reference to Parzival's outstanding beauty. The knights know just by looking at him that "he bore the marks of God's own handiwork" (p.73). Karnahkarnanz states, "How I wish I had your looks" (p.74). The knights even laugh at Parzival's many inquests. The Troyes text is much different. The head knight is never given a name. Perceval's questions become almost annoying. The knights just want to get on their way and begin to lose their temper due to Perceval's ignorance. He is compared to a Welsh man. One vassal tells the head knight "'Sir you must be aware that all Welshmen are by nature more stupid than beasts in the field: this one is just like a beast'" (p.384). In these two versions we are presented with Parzival's ignorance in two different ways. One of which (the Eschenbach version) is amusing, the other (the Troyes version) which is revolting and uncivilized.
There are however, small similarities between the texts. Both Parzival's are so in awe of the knights, that each mistake the knights for Gods. "The boy thought he was God" (Eschenbach p.73). "Yet here I see God Almighty in person" (Troyes 383). However, Troyes over emphasizes Perceval's belief that these knights are Gods. He professes that he will worship them and even goes so far as to say "you are more beautiful than God" (p.383). His proclamations are again almost revolting. In this Christian text, he places a knight above God. Troyes stresses Perceval's belief that these knights are God, while Eschenbach briefly mentions it.
Taken from Chretien de Troyes "Athurian Romances" ed. and trans. by William W. Kibler London: Penguin Books 1991.
While Eschenbach's text provides us with two hefty chapter's explaining how Parzival came to be, Troyes text begins with the discovery of the knights. All we know of Perceval is that he is "the son of the widow lady of the Waste Forest" (p.382). In Troyes version when the knights are galloping towards him(there are five of them, not three as in Eschenbach) Perceval thinks that devils are coming. He decides that when he sees whatever is making such a noise, that he will strike them down. This is our first indication that Perceval has a violent side. In the Eschenbach text, Parzival sees the knights immediately and drops to his knees, thinking each a "god" (p.72). He does not react violently; however, his violent tenedencies are apparent in his killing of birds on the prior page.
Moreover, in the Eschenbach text, the head knight, Karnahkarnanz, is almost pleased to be associating with Parzival. He frequently makes reference to Parzival's outstanding beauty. The knights know just by looking at him that "he bore the marks of God's own handiwork" (p.73). Karnahkarnanz states, "How I wish I had your looks" (p.74). The knights even laugh at Parzival's many inquests. The Troyes text is much different. The head knight is never given a name. Perceval's questions become almost annoying. The knights just want to get on their way and begin to lose their temper due to Perceval's ignorance. He is compared to a Welsh man. One vassal tells the head knight "'Sir you must be aware that all Welshmen are by nature more stupid than beasts in the field: this one is just like a beast'" (p.384). In these two versions we are presented with Parzival's ignorance in two different ways. One of which (the Eschenbach version) is amusing, the other (the Troyes version) which is revolting and uncivilized.
There are however, small similarities between the texts. Both Parzival's are so in awe of the knights, that each mistake the knights for Gods. "The boy thought he was God" (Eschenbach p.73). "Yet here I see God Almighty in person" (Troyes 383). However, Troyes over emphasizes Perceval's belief that these knights are Gods. He professes that he will worship them and even goes so far as to say "you are more beautiful than God" (p.383). His proclamations are again almost revolting. In this Christian text, he places a knight above God. Troyes stresses Perceval's belief that these knights are God, while Eschenbach briefly mentions it.
Taken from Chretien de Troyes "Athurian Romances" ed. and trans. by William W. Kibler London: Penguin Books 1991.
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