What I Meant to Say: Part Re-Attempt

It is easy to link Aude with Ophelia, as though they do not live similar lives, they are noble ladies involved with, and therefore entirely dependent upon the men in their lives, father and then husband. It is safe to say that Aude’s father must have been thrilled with the prospect of having Roland as a son-in-law, on his own heroic merits as well as him proximity to the main power in the land. In class, we discussed the possibility of this meaning that because she is so linked to Roland, she bears a part of his otherness. This twinning of the characters forces a comparison, which begins to suggest that Aude is the softer part of Roland, emblematic of his devotion to his cause and beliefs, and innocent of the bloodthirsty realities.

The Aude River in the south of France locates Roland in a specific sense of a hometown. Though that region specifically may have no relation to him whatsoever, the name of this river linking with that of his beloved helps the reader to identify where they originate, tucked in near the Pyrenees, which makes it easy to wonder if the narrator had some ties to that region themselves. Now we have a river in which our Ophelia-like maiden can drown. The name Aude is linked to the name Oda, or Saint Oda, wife of the Duke of Acquitaine and mother of Saint Hubertus. If you were to look Hubertus up, you would find he is a patron to hunters, which illustrates Charlemagne’s company as a whole both in terms of sport and war. There is also interesting mention of him communing with a speaking stag, a la Marie de France’s Guigemar, which is just interesting. What matters is that the name of Roland’s beloved derives from this point, and leads into the story, giving us the story of the lady that is neglected within the song.

What also stays with me is that the story of Saint Oda, who went to a convent instead of being forced to marry in Scotland, ends much like our Aude’s. Charles sends her body “unto a convent of nuns,” who keep vigil for her until “near an altar, she’s entombed with solemn rites” (Ln. 3730-2). Before her death, when Ophelia is going mad, the King bids someone to watch over her; centuries before, a king placed enough value on a woman, or simply had enough compassion for her (which is unique itself in terms of Charles’ treatment of the “weaker” sex), to have Aude kept vigil for and buried with the proper rites, though the causes of her death were mysterious.

Then, we must go back to Greece, the roots of so many empires, where an ode was a type of lyric poetry. The ode was a time when the poet spoke for himself, supported by a chorus. Pindar devised the elaborately structured heroic ode, which was often only accompanied by a flute, and evolved into Horace, Sappho, and Catullus before its resurgence in the 17^th century. Is this character, so briefly mentioned, a hint into the poet’s mind? Aude is offered a second choice, Charles’ own son and heir, again speaking to her status and his esteem for her, and it is reminiscent of the biblical concept of having the brother take his own sister-in-law to wife to keep alive the name of her first husband. But it would also be the name of the woman as well, suggesting that Aude is significant in her own right, enough to be future queen. Is the poet using her as a means of reflecting his own sorrow at the losses that take place during war while he adds to the heroic element of his protagonist? The poet represents Roland as an ideal, and without him we cannot “live on when Roland’s life is spent” (Ln. 3719).

Cain figure in Beowulf and Roland

So, I brought up in class that I had found an article alluding to Ganelon as a Cain figure and I feel there’s an interesting type of othering going on between the Song of Roland and Beowulf. It is an othering that occurs in Christian context, but also proves a more dangerous adversary than that of the classic pagan – that is, the character of one who was originally a follower of Christianity and then turned away.

In “Cain as Convict and Convert? Cross Cultural logic in the Song of Roland” by Brewster E. Fitz, there is an assimilation to Ganelon with Judas and Cain. Ganelon is recognized as a Christian, but commits treason against his ‘brothers,” the Frank army. Ganelon has the ability to sin when he has all the potential for goodness, and this is seen Biblically by the actions of Cain and Judas. A person with an agency this strong is deemed as evil and creating offenses that can never be altered. In the same sense, Ganelon’s actions are unforgivable and destroy the strongest knight in Charlemagne’s army. In the article, Fitz calls Roland an imitatio christi (imitation of Christ) and that Ganelon’s rejection of Roland is also his rejection of Christianity (Fitz 817). I am not doing total justice to the article, but there is a lot of good information looking into the Cain story in relation to Ganelon and the Saracen army.

We see in several parts of Beowulf the depiction of Grendel as a descendant of Cain. The story provides a revised version of Genesis, where it is explained how the source of monsters comes to be from the lineage of Cain, the first murderer. Whenever the story of Cain arises the narrator exclaims how God rewarded that sin. In the Bible, Cain is forced to wander the earth with a mark (meant to warn others not to kill him). Placing Grendel in the Biblical lineage of Cain he is “marked” as an evil creature that kills without remorse. However, Cain was initially a human being loved by God. Cain was not born evil, but revered God and wanted to find favor with him. Cain chose to go against God and kill his brother. With this in mind, it would seem that Grendel had the opportunity to avoid evil. Though Grendel is depicted as a monster, he is not too monstrous, in fact, he is described as having a male form. Grendel’s being is actually human-like, save for his awesome strength, which can only be matched by Beowulf. We cannot make a claim to whether Grendel was at first Christian, but his association with Cain leads readers to question whether there was ever a turn from God. There are several places where Grendel is called demonic, which would sound like a clear refusal to Christianity.

We have spoken of pagans being those who are not Christians, but an even darker enemy is the people who have rejected Christianity. A prominent example of this can be found in Paradise Lost with the lines claiming that it is better to reign in hell than serve in heaven. Who’s a better example of rejecting God than Satan himself? Satan states in the story to remember that he also was once loved by God. The real enemy for the Christians isn’t simply pagans unaware of God, but those who knew full well of the Christian God and still persisted to denounce him.

Wrongness and Otherness

“How do the pagans in Beowulf differ from the pagans in The Song of Roland?” If the aim of the course is to examine the other within texts from the Middle Ages, then this question seems an apt topic to explore. Within these texts are two dissimilar constructions of difference within the same generalized “non-Christian” category. Yet, the treatment of the two groups of pagans is entirely different considering the pagans are characterized by a Christian author.

In The Song of Roland, the pagans are portrayed in no uncertain terms as Other. Although some Saracens are described in begrudgingly complimentary terms, the poet takes pains to ally their descriptions with condemnatory rhetoric. Saracens often speak with “evil” words, and the fate of their souls is in no way ambiguous. “The Paynim falls flat down with all his weight. / Then Satan comes and hales his soul away.” (laisse 96)

The poet of The Song of Roland tells the Franks how to view the Paynims, whereas in Beowulf, the author makes less effort to shape Beowulf’s morality based on his religious identity. Beowulf’s heroic actions shape his character, but the Saracens already exhibit vile characteristics, which their actions reinforce. While the Saracens are surely going to hell according to the poet of The Song of Roland, Beowulf’s poet does not go into the gritty details of Beowulf’s afterlife. The poet praises Beowulf's accomplishments, and it's clear that the poet is aware that the funeral pyre is a pagan ritual. The poet offers no negative or condemnatory commentary on Beowulf's funeral. As opposed to the death scenes of The Song of Roland, there is no devil to take Beowulf’s pagan soul to hell.

Roland’s infamous battle cry “Pagans are wrong and Christians are right” (laisse 79) constructs the terms of difference in The Song of Roland, and the language used to describe the vile infidels reinforces our hero’s axiom. However, morality in Beowulf is no where near as explicit. While the poet acknowledges that Beowulf and Hygelac are pagan kings, he describes them in hero’s language. Which begs the question, are pagans wrong in Beowulf? With no organizing binary, morality is vaguer and more debatable in Beowulf, whereas there is no debating who is right and who is Other in The Song of Roland.

As an aside, considering the Beowulf manuscript and how this text is the only known text of Beowulf, I thought about this episode of RadioLab that talks about the other versions of the Bible and other versions of the Trojan war. Listening to this story, it makes me wish archeologists could find other versions of Beowulf.

Winner Takes All

We've seen in discussion so far an interest in the duel that determines Ganelon's fate. It's not only the reader s who are interested. There are crowds at the duel, witnesses to God's decision on the truth of worldly matters. What's interesting to me about the duel is that this has a familiar ring outside of Christianity. I have heard stories of pagan myths, and I've been looking for a source but as yet have not found one, of circles in which two combatants are placed to fight in order to determine the truth of a crime. The one who wins is judged to have been right. In any case, the idea is not simply confined to Christianity. You see it mostly all cultures that have a religion with a higher power, and when one believes their higher power is better, well, that's the short of how wars start.

In fact, the duel between Pinabel and Thierry is not even the only place in which this "duel for the truth" occurs. Charlemagne carries on his own duel with the Emir during the final battle. They both fall to the ground and begin to duke it out, mano a mano, to see who has the right of it: "Nothing at all can ever end their strife/Till one confess he's wrong, the other right" (259). And really when they say "confess" they mean get skewered. So they're both fighting to determine who is correct in their choice of god, and the one to survive simply proves that they are correct. And of course in the story an angel helps him when he is being overwhelmed, God will not let the righteous one lose.

And so in the duel over Ganelon's treachery we can only expect a similar miracle of God's hand. But in this case it is no longer God's servant against a Pagan foe, which is a much easier call for the big man, but a simple dispute between Christians. I can't help but wonder if by bringing God down for the deliberation this duel hasn't forced him to say more than just who's right in their argument, but who is actually no longer Christian. I realize that we've talked about how Ganelon can not lose his status as a Christian, but I have to say I disagree. He doesn't fall as low a Pagan, but he becomes a fallen Christian really since God has decided against him. Even if God didn't have a hand in the duel, by royal decree the outcome strips Ganelon of his religion and of course that of his family. This is the opposite side of the Christians "converting" pagans into the faith. In the end its the men with power discerning the fate of other men.

Hubris

A common epic convention is characterizing the epic hero as having too much pride, or hubris. It is also important to note that in relation to the text, pride is also one of the seven deadly sins. As we discussed in last Monday's class, Roland’s tragic flaw is his overabundance of pride. His ultimate death in solitude in the middle of the poem seems deserving due to this flaw. However, characters on both sides of the spectrum, the Saracens and even Charlemagne himself, can be defined in terms of their level of pride.

A big contradiction in the text (Max pointed it out in his post) is the ending. Lais 209, describes Saint Gabriel coming to the Emperor's chamber telling Charlemange that he must assemble his army once again. Charlemagne's response is quite surprising as he says, "how weary is my life!" (p.203). Yet, the text as a whole (particularly the second half) implies that Charlemagne will rise up and fight to save the Christians in the city of Imphe.

However, this is quite ironic in that the text points more towards Charlemagne's pride than to his quest to spread Christianity. For instance, lais 259, states "nothing at all can ever end their strife Till one confess he's wrong, the other right" (p.187). This words echo Roland's declaration that: "Pagans are wrong and Christians are right." But why exactly? Couldn't it be argued that Christians are wrong to pillage foreign lands and people all in the name of Christianity? Couldn't it also be argued that Charlemagne was a very proud and arrogant man who just wanted to acquire more land?

Finally, isn't the second battle fought solely over the death of their best warrior, Roland? "For Roland's death I think they'll dearly pay" (p.216) says Charles to his soldiers. The French had their pride tampered with when the Saracens killed Roland. The French lost their "pride" when they lost Roland. The cause for the second battle is not over the Saracens being non-Christians, but over Roland's death. Therefore, it is quite contradictory that Charlemagne stands for a symbol of Christianity in the text, yet he possess one of the seven deadly sins himself, pride.

On the other hand, it is important to note that the one character in the text who does not seem to succumb to being too prideful is Bramimonda. While the Saracens continue to fight (possibly because they are too proud to admit they are "wrong") Bramimonda does not. She is neither too arrogant nor too proud to give up her entire identity. She does not stand up and fight against Charlemagne when he takes her "captive to fair France" (p.191). She even gives up her name and her voice. In a sense, the poem indicates that Bramimonda admits she was "wrong," unlike her fellow Saracens who are too proud to do subject themselves to such belittlement.

The question of pride is an interesting one in the text. Although Roland's actions are most characteristic of a person who possesses too much pride, the other characters seem to as well.

Geography, Material Culture, and the Other: Part One

As we move from The Song of Roland to Beowulf, one thread that I keep finding myself pursuing is the way in which both poems use geography and material culture to define and demarcate the Other - and what happens when these definitions collapse or are penetrated. By "material culture" in this case, I am thinking specifically about war-gear: helmets, shields, armor, swords, and spears, all of which (I would think) impose a very rigid sense of selfhood over against those "others" on the far side of your hauberk and shield. (To paraphrase Wittgenstein, the limits of my armor are the limits of my world.)

For example, as Roland rushes to its conclusion, we see all of the physical barriers which had previously differentiated Franks and Paynims giving way one by one. The vertiginous Pyrenees - "High are the hills, the valleys dark and deep, / Grisly the rocks, and wondrous grim the steeps" (83) - which previously separated "douce France" and "clere Espaigne" and which could be surmounted by the French only "with pain and grief" (83) are overcome for good: "They pass the mountains, they pass the rocky heights, / Leave the deep gorges and narrow vales behind" (171). When the armies of Baligant and Charlemagne take the field against one another, "betwixt the two is neither hill nor vale, / Forest nor wood" (176). The two sides occupy the same ground even poetically; laisse 227, for example (pp. 170-171) combines separate scenes involving Charlemagne and Baligant into one stanza. In the battle, the barriers of shield and armor demarcating the two sides likewise mutually succumb: "shields [are] smashed all to bits, / ...bright hauberks gride as the mail-rings rip" (184). Things come down to Charlemagne and Baligant one-on-one, and again all physical demarcation shatters: "The rivets fall, in shreds the buckles fly. / In their bare byrnies now breast to breast they fight" (187).

At this point, in other words, any separation of Self and Other which existed outside the mind has collapsed. On the same geographical and poetic ground, outside the shelter of city wall or mountain range, with their armies scattered in the melee and their shields battered to bits, Charlemagne and Baligant each face a crisis of identity. Each is the mirror image of the other. They can only differentiate themselves by factors which are confessional and ideological, that is, (more or less) intangible and arbitrary: religion (Charlemagne's criterion) and feudal/political allegiance (Baligant's). Even as the two exchange demands to surrender and convert in laisse 260 (p. 188), there is a sense that for either to incorporate the other into his polity would reduce that polity to meaninglessness. Baligant has already begun to doubt himself and the basis of his power, while Charlemagne, throughout this battle and this part of the poem, is struggling to articulate the meaning of his empire beyond just Christian faith. For either combatant, to stop defining the Other as the other would be to lose his sense of self. Hence the ambiguity voiced by the poet over how this single combat can end: it will continue either "till one lies dead on ground" (laisse 258) or "till one confess he's wrong, the other right" (laisse 259; both p. 187). The sign that Charlemagne will win this fight appears when, after being rebuked and re-authorized by the Archangel Gabriel, "he is himself again" (laisse 262, p. 188). Despite the loss of all geographical and material structures of difference, he feels secure enough in his religio-political selfhood again to strike down his alter ego.

The aftermath of this battle gives us the overthrow of the last physical barrier between Paynim and Frank in the poem, the previously impenetrable walls of Saragossa. With this barrier broken, Bramimonda's "otherness" likewise collapses, and for her part she loses all compelling reason to remain Paynim in identity. However, despite this and the other affirmations of Selfhood and triumphs over the Other that occur, the end of the poem makes clear that Charlemagne, exhausted and world-weary, is not really "himself" after all. Some definition of the Self over against the Other apparently has, in fact, been lost along the way.

Since this posting is plenty long already, I guess I'll save my thoughts on Beowulf in this mode for another installment...

Holy Relics in the Song of Roland

In following Roland’s lines of “the pagans are wrong and the Christians are right,” I wanted to point out the use of holy relics in the story, and how they seem to be a form of weaponry and defense against the Saracens. I also wanted to see if the agency of using these relics by the French Christians was carried out effectively.

Relics are basically objects that hold religious meaning – either they were a piece of clothing worn by a saint, or can be bones of a saint. In that respect, there are also classes of relics, determined by the object. A piece of bone from a saint is a first-class relic, while the cloth form a saint is a second-class relic.

According to Wikipedia, in Medieval Christianity, relics were prized possessions that allowed the bearer to have a closeness with the saint and ultimately, God. Not only are these objects considered holy, but they are thought to contain some power for miracles. A Christian believes that by having these relics, they can be have access to miracles. The idea is that the Holy Spirit was considered to dwell in those saints who were agents of miraculous events, and therefore, having a piece of that saint (literally) can allow an individual the grace of miracles.

In the Song of Roland, Charlemagne is written to have a first class relic. He is said to have the lance that was used to kill Christ when he was crucified (147). This relic is not only first class, but one of the most prized pieces of relics coming directly from Jesus. Not only is it from Christ, it is the weapon that ended Christ’s life on earth before the miracle of his resurrection days later. One can speculate that Charlemagne’s possession of this first-class relic is agency for his victories over non-Christians.

We also have Roland’s sword Durendal, which contains the tooth of St. Peter, blood of St. Basil, St. Denis’s hair and the Virgin Mary’s garment. Indeed, “what store of relics lie in thy hilt of gold!” (141). One can conjecture that yes, Roland is blessed with several relics and therefore has a strong intimacy with God. It also stands to reason that the “holiness” of his sword helped him to defeat a large portion of the Saracen army. Roland used this relic-filled sword to conquer the vast countries he took for Charlemagne and for Charlemagne’s Christianity. We have spoken of Roland’s brutal killings as monstrous, but perhaps with this sword, they were miraculous. Not only was Roland able to conquer several lands, but he is able to wield his sword and kill several more Saracens after he has blown the Olifant and is bleeding though his temples.

It appears that with the aid of these holy relics, God is truly on their side, especially since they have been successful in their conquests up to this point in the story. However, Roland still does die. Does Roland’s death call into question the usefulness of these relics? Or maybe it is the agency of the relics allowing Roland to finally give up his sword (which he has a hard time doing and then puts it under him) and enter into heaven?

The perhaps unintended agency of the Other remains

In the Middle Ages, prevalent theological thought asserted that women were the weaker spiritual being as evidenced by Eve's submission to temptation. Because of Eve's disobedience, God deemed her unworthy to decide her fate. Therefore, women's spiritual agency was revoked, and all of Eve's daughters had to experience God through men.

Bramimond, however, does not experience her religion through her husband nor does her husband, Marsilion, act as a guide to her spirituality. In Laisses 188-189, no one prompts Bramimond to condemn her gods. She sees her wounded and defeated husband and reacts without anyone else’s input. As Kinoshita notes, “Stepping into the place of her maimed husband, Bramimonde leads the type of revolt usually attributed to male Saracens who wreak punishment upon their gods…” (Kinoshita 93) However, Bramimond, according to Kinoshita loses her independent thought and agency by submitting to Christianity.

I’m not sure I agree. There is no doubt that Bramimond is defeated politically. "All her towers Queen Bramimond surrenders." (Roland 265) However, we cannot assume that her conversion is involuntary or that she is simply submitting to a male dominated world in which she must keep her silence. The conversion, while sanctioned by Charlemagne, is not under his direct guidance. As far as the reader is concerned, there is no evidence that Bramimond suddenly loses her ability to form her own opinion. Bramimond listens to the sermons and parables and converts of her own free will, just as she condemns her pagan gods without instruction from anyone else. To say that Bramimond's conversion is involuntary is to revoke the agency that she has when she condemns her pagan religion as useless.

Bramimond does not convert simply to marry a Christian man and have him dictate her spiritual understanding. Kinoshita states that the stock Saracen princess character converts to Christianity for the love of a Frankish knight. However, Kinoshita ups the stakes and says "Bramimonde demystifies the function of the Saracen princess: to abandon religion, family, and culture to embrace Frankish Christianity." (Kinoshita 92) According to the poet, though, Bramimond's country is conquered by Charlemagne. Her husband, who is her only mentioned family, is dead, and on her own, she rejects her religion. Everything that isn't forcefully taken from Bramimond, she rejects of her own free will, which leaves her without a husband or a lover to dictate her religious leanings.

More significantly, she is baptized and renamed by women. Technically, she isn’t submitting to Charlemagne and his imposing Christian empire but to women of the Christian faith. While I’m not arguing that Bramimond is swept away into a feminist religious utopia, her submission is not to the male/military power structure present throughout the rest of the poem. Women legitimize her conversion. The fact that she is renamed by women doesn’t prove her continued agency, but the involvement of women in her conversion show that she continues to experience religion without the contribution of men.

A Plague of Traitors

The most puzzling aspect of the second half of Roland, for me, at least, is the death of Pinabel's thirty kinsmen. As I understand the order of things, they were simply assurance that Pinabel would show up for his duel with Thierry . I hardly think that, had Thierry lost the battle, anyone was going to be hanging Charlemagne. What had the kinsmen done to deserve a hanging?

The answer is, of course, nothing of note other than be in the company of the losing parties. So perhaps the answer lies in the company, as "treason destroys itself and others, too." (Sayers 201). The only treasonous party is Ganelon, but by aligning themselves with him, Pinabel and the kinsmen are infected. This has such a strong connection to Panopticism that I cannot help but drag Foucault into this mess.

The kinsmen must be quarantined like they are contagious - "guarded until justice shall be done" (Sayers 197) in the words of the song and "First, a strict spatial partitioning...a prohibition to leave on pain of death...each governed by an intendant" (Foucault 195). The description of their death "hanged up in a noose" (Sayers 201) brings to mind a type of binding quarantine - tied up in ropes. They sound more like patients than oath keepers.

Ganelon's rather barbaric punishment of having his limbs ripped off by galloping horses can also been rendered in somewhat medical terms. His insides are all outside, they can be seen and examined, and his treacherous germs are exterminated in a display of force that makes the "crime explode into truth" (Foucault 227).

I wonder, however, if all this showmanship on the part of Charlemagne does not leave us with a neat ending to Ganelon and his treachery. The huge and public displays of power seem to only to point out that Charlemagne is nervous. Perhaps he is perpetrating the fear of contamination in the hope that the population won't get any of Ganelon's ideas - using panoptic fear to goad the remainder of his population into self discipline.

Bramimond’s Questionable Conversion

In “’Pagans are wrong and Christians are right’: Alterity, Gender, and Nation in the Chanson de Roland,” Sharon Kinoshita asserts that Bramimond, the ‘Saracen’ or ‘Pagan’ Queen, is given the opportunity to ‘actively embrace Charlemagne’s God.’ After examining Lais two-hundred-sixty-six, Kinoshita writes: “ No trace of the carnal or profane compromises Charlemagne’s desire to convert Bramimond…’love’ signals not the romantic desire but the voluntary nature of her conversion.” Despite her convincing arguments, I did find this particular assertion a little problematic.

The degree to which Bramimond willingly embraces Charlemagne’s God or that the ‘nature of her conversion’ may be voluntary is questionable in light of several factors. The line on page one-hundred-ninety, Lais two-hundred-sixty-five, states, “All of her towers Queen Bramimond surrenders,” and I think this speaks to both her figurative and literal captivity at the end of the story, for she is the only allowed to live among the Christians, and like Marcile who proclaims, “Myself I’ve lost, my people, and my kin,” she in a sense has lost her culture, religion, protection, and quite literally her own ‘world.’ Bramimond is an isolated character, for she’s one of two women that are featured in the story, and in the end, despite the factors that suggests her ‘conversion,’ she is the only ‘Pagan’ left; this not only directly influences the ‘nature of her conversion,’ but facilitates it as well. Although the ‘tower’ is a phallic symbol, it is also closely associated with the feminine principle or a certain feminine power; when Bramimonde surrenders her towers, she is quite literally defeated, and the tower becomes symbolic not only of her submission, her descent or downfall, but the end of ‘Paganism.’ In addition to this, Bramimond’s surrender is the last act in the story that solidifies ‘Christian’ dominance, for “the Paynims are all dead or fled in terror.’ She is singled out and abandoned by the last of the Paynims, to such a degree one may even argue Bramimonde exists figuratively as an orphan, and has no other choice then to assimilate to the ‘French’ or ‘Christian’ culture and religion; the alienation she experiences at the end bears some influence on the ‘nature of her conversion.’ Moreover, by ‘surrendering her towers,’ she is relinquishing the power or authority she exhibits on page one-hundred-fifty-one and one-hundred-fifty-five; this speaks to how she is literally at Charlemagne’s mercy and under his rule, further debilitating her willingness to reject the Christian God. Carlon’s ‘love’ may speak to Bramimond’s ‘voluntary conversion,’ but attached to it is his authority. One must have in mind Carlon’s words, “Never to Paynims may I show love or peace, Do though confess the faith of God revealed,” that figuratively implies Paynim’s can choose Christianity or death - this still applies to Bramimond at the end who we still find ‘captive.’

In light of these arguments, the ‘nature of Bramimond’s conversion’ may not be ‘voluntary,’ given the circumstances she finds herself in at the end of, “The Song of Roland.” We do not know enough at the end of the story in order to be certain of Bramimond’s ‘true’ conversion. Although she rejects her gods in Lais one-hundred-ninety-five, she asks, “Why is there none to slay me?” The statement expresses Bramimond’s feelings of abandonment, disillusionment, anger, and desperation; in the same instance, it figuratively invokes her position at the end, one that relies on Charlemagne’s mercy, authority - on the questionable ‘love’ that promises and dictates the Queen’s religious conversion.

A Psychoanalytical Reading of the text

While reading through the blogs for "Roland", I noticed that Ines and Jolie had both touched upon the topics concerning Roland and Ganelon as potential Others in the poem. Although I agree with both posts, I wanted to suggest that there could be a deeper psychoanalytical reading of the text that is not apparent on the surface and can be argued by taking a deeper look at the text.

Dorothy Sayers introduction states "Roland has pointed out that the proposed mission is dangerous and that Marsilion is not to be trusted, he does not at once volunteer to bell the cat himself" (p. 11). Instead, Roland volunteers Ganelon, his step father adding that "I'll take your place if the King says I can (p.62), knowing full well that the King does not want Roland to partake on the mission.

It is interesting that Roland volunteers his stepfather. As Sayers also notes there is an unstated reason why Ganelon and Roland feel such animosity towards each other. Reading the text on a psychoanalytical level, it is apparent that Ganelon's relationship to Roland (being his stepfather indicates that Ganelon has in some way usurped the role of Roland's father and bedded Roland's mother). Here the poem presents an interesting take on the idea of projection. It can be argued that Roland feelings stem from an assumed Oedipean love for his mother and an unvoiced desire to kill his stepfather Ganelon. Therefore, Roland's volunteering Ganelon for the mission may not be as innocent as it seems.

On the other hand, it can be presumed that this is not the first instance of familial jealousy the two have shared. Ganelon's jealousy seems deeply seeded. Roland is after all Charles' right hand man. Ganelon anger is almost immediately too severe. He threatens Roland’s life because Roland has volunteered him. Yet, succeeding in this mission could bring Ganelon fame and glory. "I'll wreck on thee such ruin and such wrack / That thy life long my vengeance shall not slack" (p.62). There is more to Ganelon's anger than being volunteered for the task. He is jealous that Roland is so special to the King that he cannot be sent on this mission. Ganelon wants to occupy Roland's place.

Finally, Roland and Ganelon serve as two parts to a whole, the narcissistic duo. Roland is the cherished knight, loved by all. He has prowess in battle and is most importantly faithful to the end to the King. Ganelon is the complete opposite; he betrays the King and all of France over his jealousy of his stepson. When Roland nominates him for the mission all of the French quickly agree. "Quoth Roland: 'Guenes my step-sire is the man.' / The French all say: 'Indeed, he is most apt; / If he's passed over you will not find his match'" (p.62). Roland and Ganelon are complete opposites that make one uniform whole. What one is not, the other is. Roland without a doubt is all that Ganelon hopes to be, and perhaps in Roland there is a desire to be everything that Ganelon is.

The Cross and the Crescent

In class we discussed how similar the two sides were in this story. The Saracen's were as strong, beautiful and valiant as the Christians, but the simply weren't Christian and such was the difference. After reading Roland, I enjoyed going back and reading about the historic battle from which this story sprung. The fact that it was a small guerrilla band of Basques, who were indigenous to Spain conquered by Charlemagne, makes Roland an astonishing change to history. The two sides were both Christian and the ambush was carried out by an inferior force during nighttime, which melted away following the attack. Hardly the story's force of 400,000 Saracens. In fact, these forces were different in all aspects except their religion.

So why would the story be twisted so heavily? Roland was written in the middle of the 12th century directly between crusades, and the enemy of course at the time was the Saracens. It becomes an obvious choice for the enemy of the story to be Roland. The story looks a lot like propaganda at this point, and what is the greatest strength of propaganda but to other the enemy and create him monstrous?

The acts of both sides are violent. But we actually see more violence from the Christians. Charlemagne smiles as his catapults tear down towers of a city. Roland desires to dye his sword "red high as the hilt with gore" (83). The Archbishop Turpin himself lays about with his crook and "flings him dead wherever he finds room" (114). The difference between this and the violence by the Paynims is that it all is done in the name of the right and honorable. Every attack by the Paymins is underhanded. The entire battle is based on treachery, and even the individual violent acts such as the death of Oliver has to be treacherous. The incident appears almost cowardly as Marganice "from behind deals Oliver a blow"(145). It seems as if no one could best a Christian in an honorable way. On the other hand the Christian might is blessed and virtuous never to be described as cowardly.

Neither side is normal in this fight. Both are are othered. The Paymins are obviously othered by Christian religion and by treachery making them the extreme villains of this story. The Franks are also elevated in this story by their death. By being absolved of all sin before death and facing it in such a heroic way, they become martyrs elevated above all others and on a direct path to heaven. In the exact opposite direction fly the Paymins as they sail to hell. They fight on the same field and yet the difference in treatment becomes too great to overwhelm. By othering both sides the author forces the reader to focus on the difference between them and in essence choose either "right" or "wrong".

It would have been interesting to see how this would have been written by a "Paymin" instead of the Christian author. In my opinion, though, it would simply have been a reverse of where the dead spiritually ended up and how the violent acts were described.

An Imposing Culture

In Orientalism, Edward Said asserts “One ought never to assume that the structure of Orientalism is nothing more than a structure of lies or of myths which, were the truth about them to be told, would simply blow away.” (Norton 1995) His sentiment resonates with the complex and interwoven nature of West/East colonialism, but the nature of difference in The Song of Roland is far flimsier. The author constructs the political relationship between the Franks and the Spanish without a language barrier and without misunderstand of the hierarchical structure of vassalage and lordship. The pagan knights are considered equally valiant, and they would easily be integrated into the Frankish political ranks, if only their professed religion were Christianity.

The cultural oversimplifications indicate that while there is clear demarcation of the pagan Other from the Christian, it is an insubstantial barrier to cross. It merely requires a confessional change. It’s significant that the French/Westerners see no insurmountable cultural difference. Their only concern is that the pagans profess their devotion to Christianity. In a sense, the cultural, racial, and geographical differences their opponents present are an illusion, and that the truth of Christianity will eliminate the interrelated structures of difference.

Despite the fact in reality there were major cultural and language barriers between the pagan world (as in the non-Christian world) and the Christian world, the fact that those differences are not highlighted more starkly indicate two assumptions the poets makes throughout The Song of Roland: 1.) The cultural differences are irrelevant or 2.) The difference between Frankish and Spanish will dissipate as soon as the two cultures are joined by a common religion.

While Said is correct in urging his readers not to try to find the lies that hold up the structure of Orient v. Occident, the author of Roland believed the magic bullet for toppling the structure was religion. The desire to overcome such vast cultural differences with religion is representative of the Frankish need for hegemony. The fact that the poet imposes the structures of Frankish society onto a dramatically different culture confirms Said’s notion that “There is in addition the hegemony of European ideas about the Orient, themselves reiterating European superiority over Oriental backwardness, usually overriding the possibility that a more independent, or more skeptical, thinker might have had different views on the matter.” (Norton 1996) For me, the simplistic construction of the Other in Roland indicates the complex nature of political difference.

(As an aside, I wasn't quite sure how to format a footnote in a blog. Since I don't have a works cited page, I'm quoting an excerpt of Said's Orientalism from The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism. Ed. Vincent B. Leitch. New York: W.W Norton and Company, 2001.)

Why Can't Ganeleon Be the Other

One of the more interesting threads that class picked up was about exactly how permeable the boundary between Christians and Pagans is. The pagans can, of course, convert and become Christian but up until this point we do not see "Ganelon that wrought the treachery" slip through the border in the other direction.

Narratively, no matter what the second half brings, Ganelon can never and will never be thought of as a pagan. If he was to do so, the entire structure of The Song of Roland would fall to pieces. The Song, at it's very core, is a narrative of difference and while the Pagans(Them) could be consumed by the Christians (Us), the reverse will never be true because then we'd have a narrative based on positive relation and not negative relation.

Jonathan Goldberg, discussing Bowers v. Hardwick in the introduction to Sodometries (sadly not available online, but if anyone wants to read it, I can easily make copies), says that "homosexuals and heterosexuals are so immutably different that their acts could never be the same - even when they are" (11). This seems most evident in laises 67-79, when the Paynim's are being introduced one by one. Margaris of Seville, described as "so beautiful is he, she that beholds him has a smile on her lips...And there's no Paynim his match for chivalry" (89), reads very much like a description one would expecting to read in reference to the French hordes. While there is slight undercutting by mentioning that no Paynim is his match - obviously the lowest of the Christians would outshine him, his beauty is still presented as favorably as, say, Oliver's wit.

On the other hand, Estorgan and Estramarin are "foul felons both and knavish traitors" who seel to assail Roland(88). The exact words used to describe Ganelon are used to describe these particular Paynims. That should make them at least structurally similar characters yet Ganelon never loses his status and becomes a Paynim. He can't. His acts will never be the same - even when they are.

The only driving distinction between Ganelon and the Pagans is simply a negative relation. This negative relation between Us/Them is in name only, however, that does mean it's also a false relation. Margaris will never be Oliver because without him would have no way to construct Oliver. Ganelon will never be pagan because such a transition would show the flimsy relation of the boundary the entire poem is based on. The road into Us is one way only and, more importantly, must be one way only.

I Have to Keep Reminding Myself that They're Monsters

While l0oking over some of the medievalist blogs linked to this one, I came across a classroom anecdote relevant to this course, and particularly relevant, I think, to The Song of Roland. Briefly, in a discussion of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, a student remarked about the Green Knight, "I have to keep reminding myself he's a monster," which (apparently) prompted further discussion off of the question, "What happens when something occupies the place where a monster should go but isn't in fact that monstrous?"

I think this connects to Roland insofar as in this text, the "Paynims" occupy the place where a monster should go but aren't, to some extent, that "monstrous," that is, that unfamiliar and profoundly differentiated. I, for one, often had to remind myself that they are meant to be effectively monsters; what is more, the poet also has to periodically remind himself of this fact.

Another way of possibly getting at this is via Beowulf (sorry to be continually getting ahead of our reading list in this post...). In that poem, Beowulf, and the Geats and Danes generally, confront two classes of enemies: supernatural opponents like Grendel, his mother, and the dragon, who are very definitely monstrous and almost otherworldly, and merely human opponents, rival tribes like the Swedes or the Heathobards, who part of the same culture and society.

Roland telescopes these two classes of "other" into one. Obviously, the Saracens take on a monstrous role: they are the postulated enemies of God, diametrically opposed to the Christian French in that sense. The poet attributes to them an extravagantly demonic religion that periodically acquires associations of Satanism and dark sorcery. Some of their champions get explicitly labeled as evil, followers of sin and vice as an apparent moral imperative: "Then first rides out a Saracen, Abisme..../ Better he loves murder and treachery / Than all the gold that is in Galicie" (108). From time to time, something like a racial differentiation appears; Abisme is "black...as melted pitch," and the "accursed tribesmen" from "Ethiope, a land accursed and vile" who swarm up against the last French survivors are likewise "Negro tribes," "black as ink from head to foot" (125). In such instances, the poem marks its oppositional figures as a different order of humanity, if not almost entirely inhuman.

And yet, while being in certain instances so profoundly "othered," the Paynims simultaneously participate in the same social context as the French. If in some ways they are more weird and demonic than real 11th-century Muslims would have been, in other ways they are far closer to the French and have more in common with them. They share the same feudal codes and institutions, the same tactics, weaponry, and conventions of battle, and many of the same standards of behavior. For every near-monstrous Saracen peer, there is at least another who is "a good knight and gallant" (114). More than once, the poet has to near-audibly stifle his explicit admiration and avowal of kinship with these Paynim foes and remind himself that they are "monsters": "Were he but Christian, right knightly he'd appear" (87), or, as the poet says of Baligant, Charlemagne's double as the leader and exemplar of the entire Saracen world, "Were he but Christian, God! what a warrior" (172).

I think it's safe to say, then, that this dynamic of mingled "othering" and commonality with the "Paynims" problematizes Roland considerably, or (a better way to put it) makes it a lot more interesting. In reading about the Crusades, for example, I have come across the idea that the Franks persistently made Islam out to be such a bizarre, polytheistic demonic mishmash (even after they had been living in the Middle East for some time and could no longer plead ignorance in the way that the poet of Roland presumably could) in order to outwardly project their own awareness of some of the polytheistic aspects of Christianity as they practiced it- the Trinity, the cult of the saints, and so forth. (On that note, it's interesting, as Dorothy Sayers points out in her introduction, that Roland depicts a rather austere Christianity in which the saints or the Virgin are relatively downplayed and characters, even layman like Roland, speak to God directly, without mediation or intercession.) We "other" or project outwards aspects of ourselves with which we are uneasy or cannot come to terms. The question I want to ask, then, is whether (in what ways, or in what degree) the Paynims in Roland act as a mirror to 11th-century French society , embodying both the aspects of that society that its members wished to celebrate and those that they wanted to deny or obscure?

Song of Roland - On With the Show!

In regards to the Monstrous being a type of show, I want to address the “showiness” to Song of Roland. There are several events that seem to be a performance, and it detracts from the reality of the situation. In a sense, it makes the reader question the motivations behind the characters.

It’s best to begin with the proposed truce between Charlemagne and Marsilion. One of the requests of Charlemagne is that he takes Marsilion to France to be converted to Christianity. This is, of course, a major blow to the Muslims. However, why is it important to force conversion on Marsilion? Even if Marsilion becomes a Christian, what proof is there that he will willingly accept his belief? The whole converting the conquered king to Christianity is a performance for society to see a powerful man be brought to shame. It presents the French society with concrete knowledge that they have conquered and to incite pride for their country. In addition, the conquered country loses part of its identity-that of being Islamic. The Muslims now have to conform to the imposed law of the French.

Then, there’s Roland’s brave action of volunteering to meet Marsilion with the proposed truce. He is refuted by Oliver that he is too rash and will probably incite a duel. Nonetheless, this small action by Roland demonstrates his courage and will to be placed in what has been discussed as a hazardous mission. This provides Roland his performance of chivalric duty to his king and his obedience to stay when Charlemagne refuses to send him. It also makes Roland appear less negative when he volunteers his step-father to the task, since he had already offered his own service.

Finally, that of Roland’s lack of action and then action with the blowing of the horn. When Oliver requests Roland calls for aid, Roland replies, “Now God forbid […] That living man should say he saw me go Blowing of horns for any Paynim foe!” (93). Roland’s lack of action in this scene is because of his show of being courageous and proud. He feels it would be shameful to use the horn and call for help in front of the enemy. He does not want the enemy to know of his weakness. Once Roland is ready to sound the Olifant, he announces, “I’ve struck good blows this day” (117). Now that Roland has shown his good, he can use the horn. Roland is ready to die, because as the Archbishop Turin states earlier in battle, “ If you should die, blest martyrdom’s your guerdon” (95). By Roland’s performance of bravery and brutal killings, he has a straight passage into heaven.

By seeing the reasons for the actions made for certain key actions in the story, one wonders at the purity of the tale. In the process of certain showy actions, many were killed. One can say that if it wasn’t for the showiness of Roland volunteering Ganelon, Ganelon would not have been so passionate to swear revenge on Roland and cause a mighty blow to the French army. One questions if anyone’s actions in the story were done genuinely and not for an alternative purpose.

A Short Post: Begging a Comment on Christianity

What was it that struck me most about The Song of Roland? There were so many possibilities to examine within this story, but there was one which I could not move beyond. The story is of war, of conquest, of kings and caliphs and knights, but most of all, it is about change. The primary change which Charlemagne hoped to accomplish was victory and the acquiring of lands, but in order to do this, the newly acquired lands must be unified. What better way to merge two cultures than through faith?

The Saracens are Moslem and the men of Charlemagne are Christian. There are factions within the Saracens, some supporting Charlemagne to gain his aid in battling their enemies, others battling them all and hoping to maintain their faith. We discover this conflict in belief right away with the lines, “Marsilion holds it, the king who hates God’s name, / Mahound he serves, and to Apollyon prays” (P.51). This beginning of the story instantly sets up who is the “other,” and this determination is based upon a discord and misunderstanding of the faiths. For the Christians, it would be easier to fight a bloody battle against pagans, those who worship gods as opposed to God. Polytheism is not an accurate depiction of the Moslem religion, however, as they too believe in one god, Allah, not many gods, and certainly not the Greco-Roman antique, Apollo/ Apollyon. But it is easier for Christians to understand the differences by creating such a great divide, and by making the Saracens given to the worship of old gods, it alienates them from Charlemagne and his people. Besides, war is not the time for people to reach understandings and learn more about their cultures, rather after the conquest is when the sharing of knowledge is accomplished (I can only imagine what bloodshed could be spared if this was done in reverse order).

In order to reach an agreement with Charlemagne, Marsile agrees to convert to Christianity. He says, “On my behalf King Charlemayn beseech, / for his God’s sake to show me clemency…the law of Christ I’ll then and there receive, / in faith and love I will his liegeman be” (P. 54). When Cordova is conquered, a new order takes place, and “in all the city no paynim now appears / who is not slain or turned to Christian fear” (P. 54). The conquest of Cordoba is accomplished by warfare, but in a secondary sense, by religion. It is faith that helps the supporters of Charlemagne win their battles and determine who are allied with them. These beliefs are then adopted by those who have been conquered. In short, those who accept the God of Charlemagne are rewarded with land, victory, and the grace of Christianity. Religion creates connections where diplomacy fails, thus determining who is for and who is against whom, and in those political allegiances, who is a true believer and who is conquered and made into one.

Ganleon’s Embodiment of the Monstrous & Roland’s Transformation into an Other

The introduction to, “The Song of Roland,” stresses that the story takes place during a time period where notions associated with the construct of masculine strength or ‘virtue’ were elevated to such a degree that they cultivated a society of ‘war,’ engraining people’s actions, interactions, and ideology. This mode of thinking or way of being, I think, after reading the first section of this story, made the character’s acts even more severe, desperate, and held repercussions that pushed them towards embodying the ‘monstrous’ or the ‘other.’ Ultimately, characters such as Ganleon and Roland, live in a society or culture that seems to heighten their human capacity to hate or love, while transforming them into beings that become monstrous, or ‘other.’

From the very beginning the reader becomes suspicious of Ganelon, for little by little we discover the treacherous trap he builds for his fellow men, siding with Marsilion out of the anger and jealousy he feels towards Roland. On page sixty-four, verse twenty-five, Ganelon drops Charlemayn’s glove, and the men take it as an omen, symbolic, not as an ‘act that instills authority,’ but one that foreshadows an evil event or circumstance in the future. From this point on, Ganelon begins his transformation into the ‘monstrous,’ and this is reinforced by the way he advises Marsilion, and sets up the trap for the French’s downfall. To be considered ‘Monstrous,’ I think, not only involves appearing as an animal, shocking, hideous, or frightful, but having a ‘monstrous’ nature, that deviates from the established, accepted, and ‘natural’ order. Ganelon does this repeatedly when assuming the identity of a ‘valiant’ knight in the beginning, through his manipulation of Charlemayn, in the way he betrays Roland and his other fellow knights, and by his acts that continuously push the French into a trap and foretells their doom during the first section of the story. Ganelon never makes a ‘heroic deed,’ nor does he exhibit notions of ‘masculine virtue,’ and if we were to associate the ‘jealousy’ or hate he has towards Roland as stemming from his ‘monstrous nature,’ and heightened by the culture he lives in, he embodies the ‘monstrous,’ for it is his nature that quite literally transforms him into a monster. On page one-hundred-twenty-one he is disfigured and treated like an animal for his acts: ‘his beard is plucked from his face’; his body is beaten and one hears the ‘pounding’ and ‘thumps’; and ‘chain’ or collar is put around his neck as if he were an animal. Ganelon is also seen like a ‘bear in a cage.’ In Christianity, if we were to take the fight of David against the bear, as symbolizing the conflict of Christ and the Devil, Ganelon’s association with the bear reinforces his embodiment of the ‘devil,’ of evil and cruelty, notions we may associate with the ‘monstrous.’ Although Roland represents those forces that oppose Ganelon and all that he stands for, he surpasses ‘masculine virtue,’ nobility, and power, and moves into a realm where he embodies the ‘other,’ something that’s more than human and monstrous.

Roland is transformed into the ‘other’ by those notions associated with ‘masculine virtue,’ such as being noble, valiant, courageous, etc. On page seventy-nine he is equated with the ‘grey-hound,’ a dog, and becomes synonymous with not only fidelity and nobility, but watchfulness; he, like Christianity’s Good Shepherd, is the guardian of the flock, the French knights; this elevates him within his army, and I believe, pushes him towards encompassing the ‘other’ because he is different from those that surround him. Perhaps, an inherent quality within a character must be present, one that works towards alienating him or setting him apart from the majority, in order for him to exist not as a human, but as an ‘other?’ Roland’s character seems to illustrate this idea, and his acts on page one-hundred-twenty, reinforces this. Here, in verse 135, “Roland’s mouth with running blood is red…sounds his horn in anguish and distress,’ calling King Carlon. Roland is not only taking on the role of a protector, but is surpassing his human capacity. There’s an intensity so fierce in this passage, a strong tension between mortality and immortality, a state that suggests Roland could be something more than ‘human,’ for although he’s bleeding at the mouth, and has ‘burst asunder the temples in his head,’ he continues to sound his horn; his cry is the final act that reveals Ganleon’s monstrous nature, instills some hope in his men, and reinforces his ‘masculine virtue.’ In addition to this, once again, Roland is set apart from the majority, for he is elevated at a spiritual level, and this facilitates his transformation into the ‘other.’ Moreover, Roland becomes synonymous with God’s strength when associated with the ‘horn’: “The lord is my rock…my buckler, and the horn of my salvation” (Psalm 18:2). Also, the horn is associated with righteousness or strength that only God can grant: “There I will make the horn of David bud” (132:17). Simultaneously, Roland is God’s strength, and is also instilled with the strength of God, further elevating him on a spiritual plane, and transforming him into an ‘other.’

It will be interesting to see how elements within, “The Song of Roland,” push his human capacity, and facilitate his transformation into an ‘other.’ Although certain factors seem to point to his death, I predict his character will move away from his embodiment of the ‘other,’ into something more subliminal.