Showing posts with label classics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label classics. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Cross-Pollination

So, it took me a while, but I am just going to jump in and share my week. I began Plaint of Nature, read until page 71 (yes, it does start on page 67), and then had to stop and read another book first. It was the lines: “If these kisses were honey-sweet with moisture, and grown honey-sweet, they would form a honeycomb in my mouth. My life breath, concentrating entirely on my mouth, would go out to meet the kisses and would disport itself entirely on my lips so that I might thus expire and that, when dead itself, my other self might enjoy in her a fruitful life” (Plaint 71). I noticed three things, first and least interesting, the almost Shakespearean “thus with a kiss I die” notion. Then there was a moment of Catullus:

I would be kissing your honeyed eyes forever. /…/

even if our kisses/

grew to such profusion/

they outnumbered sheaves/

ripening in the wheat field.[i]

The kisses in the plural in both of these poems suggest a continuous or plentiful occurrence, necking as opposed to one brief peck, and the idea of the kisses being fruitful clearly refers to procreation in the first example, whereas in the second they produce more pleasure. But, having kisses being united with harvest, is to me at least, a novel idea.

Then the third thing: whenever there are honeyed kisses of any sort being exchanged, there is the Song of Songs, “your lips are honey, honey and milk / are under your tongue” (Bloch 77).[ii] By the time I got to Page 73, where “a woman glided down from an inner palace of the impassible world and could be seen hastening her steps in my direction,” a goddess enters the scene, the object of the poet’s concentration, and the Song of Songs came further into play. We are told in no uncertain terms that her hair is gold, really gold, which does not line up with the Song because the subjects of that work are dark-haired. But then we get to “her forehead” and “her brows,” and a listing of attributes begins (Plaint 74). This makes “the serene peacefulness of her eyes” seem to me a lot like “the doves of your eyes” found in the Song, partly because of the listing that is associated with both sections of both poems, but also because of the symbolic meaning of a dove (Bloch 73). “Her nose, balsam-like…neither unduly small nor abnormally prominent” is given both a scientific sounding measurement of its size and a romantic one because of its exotic balsam perfume, much like the measuring aspect of “your proud nose the tower of Lebanon/ that looks toward Damascus,” and is also romanticized by the exotic locales of the imagery (Bloch 101). “Her lips…challenged the recruits in Venus’ army to kiss them” while not much like “a crimson ribbon your lips,” continues the listing, and the army imagery as well as the ribbon imagery provides us with the visual cue of lines, phalanxs, that we link to her mouth (Bloch 73).

My favorite, “her teeth by a certain uniformity in colour resembled a configuration in ivory,” reminds me so much of the lines, “your teeth white ewes, / all alike, / that come up fresh from the pond,” and both of these descriptions are working hard to make it clear her teeth are straight and well shaped (Bloch 73). The “red of her face, wed to the white of muslin,” became “my beloved is milk and wine,” “the smooth and refined chin,” became “the curve of your cheek / a pomegranate” (Bloch 73). Then, there is a return to the more scientific measuring of the anatomy of this lady, “her neck, quite normal in length and moderately slender, prevented its nape from being close-wed to the shoulders,” which is decidedly less romantic than “your neck is a tower of David/ raised in splendor, / a thousand bucklers hang upon it, / all the shields of the warriors,” or “a tower of ivory,” but still follows along the biblical pattern (Bloch 73,101). The “apple-like breasts” of this lady are reminiscent of the lines “your breasts are two fawns, / twins of a gazelle, / grazing in a field of lilies,” as the mention of fruit evokes shape, size, and sweetness which is mirrored in the ideas of uniformity and tenderness of the fawns (Bloch 75). “Her arms, shining from afar” evoke the jewel imagery of the biblical version linked to the same physiology, “a golden scepter with gems of topaz,” and the “gentle curve of her flanks” links to the line “the gold of your thigh / shaped by a master craftsman” (Bloch 89, 99).

All in all, I felt these were important connections to be made between the two texts, because we know (and I leave this open and begging for comment) that our poet, Alan of Lille, was aware of the biblical text. Instead of assuming that this list, though a unique perspective in comparison, was not modeled on the Song of Songs, it seems much safer to assume that it was. Regardless of whether one views the biblical poem as a physical expression of divine love or of mortal love, both apply here as well; is the lady a goddess or a mortal? Or is she a representation of a natural force? Does any of these interpretations make the connections less valuable?



[i] Gregory, Horace. Trans. The Poems of Catullus. Grove Press: New York, 1956. (Poem 48, Page 63).

[ii] Bloch, Ariel and Chana Bloch. The Songs of Songs. University of California Press: Berkeley, 1995.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

It is difficult to create discussion on Plaint of Nature. Honestly, this is a complex text to analyze, but I have a point I want to address. I know we discussed in class that Nature appears to be this ‘othered’ being. It should also be noted that it is through this entity that we are given lists of monstrous deeds which are allegorized with mythical tales. One of the repetitive monsters discussed in the story is the monsters we all know from The Odyssey-that being Charybdis and Scylla.

A quick background on The Odyssey: these two monsters inhabited the sea. Courageous sailors would dare try to navigate between these beasts in hope of safe passage. The danger was to avoid one monster, you might encounter the other, and the strait between the two was treacherous and almost unfeasible to pass through.

Introduction to these monsters does not occur until page 149, where Nature explains the burden of love. “It is sweet, shipwreck, light burden, pleasing Charybdis, sound debility, insatiate hunger” Here, love is described as something dangerous that one does not perceive as such. Instead, one blissfully follows, only to meet a gruesome end. A little later in the text, Nature explains how love alters the way one perceives the world, where “Scylla lays aside her fury” (150). Of course, this is not truly possible, because the monster of Scylla only exists as a dangerous man-eating monster. The only thing that alters it is the illusion created by intense desire. Intense desire for something can become idolatrous and then lure one to their doom. It leads to a struggle between the monsters which will prove fatal. This idea of an inevitable shipwreck is repeated in the text when addressing other sins to evade.

When Nature explains the idolatrous nature of gluttony, she states, “the employ the suction-process of a broad whirlpool and gulp down with the greedy throat of a Charybdis” (172). Nature assimilates gluttons with mythical monsters, but goes further in explaining the allegorical concept of these ideas on the same page, “they experience shipwreck where there is no sea” (172). Nature is pointing out here how this shipwreck is clearly possible through sins. Nature also points out the idea of this shipwreck with the sin of idolizing money. She describes, “the rich man, shipwrecked in the depths of riches” (176). The idea of travelling through Charybdis and Scylla is allegorized in these passages as the strain in navigation to avoid idol pleasures. Any sway towards these monsters of sin will lead to destruction and shipwreck.

Alan of Lille uses the story of Charybdis and Scylla to emphasize the issue of avoiding sins but appears to be in a similar situation himself. Lille himself is stuck between these two monsters as he attempts to write this story and keep consistency in his argument. The difficulty with gender relations in regards to grammar brings about an issue that could “shipwreck” his entire text. The narrow pathway between these monsters is difficult to find, but Lille believes it is there and possible to travel through.

Monday, October 29, 2007

Making Connections

As we have already discussed, it is difficult to draw a connection between the poetry of the Nibelungenlied and the Greco-Roman mythology with which we are all so familiar. The reason for this is that the mythology of Germany developed pretty much independently of the classical influence. Yet, we find ourselves seeing Charon in the ferryman, and it got me to wondering not about why we make the connections, but of what their value to us could be.

For example, we find in the myth of Perseus connections to Siegfreid. Both set out to do battle with great monsters, be they dragons, Gorgons, or sea monsters. Both did so not only in the hopes of earning greater glory, but with the knowledge that such glory would inevitably allow them a better choice of mate: Andromeda or Kriemhild. We know that Siegfreid had a cloak of invisibility, and that Perseus has a helm of invisibility, both of which allowed these heroes to not only achieve victory, but to walk away from the battle alive and whole. While Perseus slays Medusa in order to complete a challenge that will both free his mother from the unwanted attentions of a king as well as help him to secure his lovely bride, Siegfreid has no such obvious plan. The slaying of the dragon adds to his heroism and his reputation, which in turn allows him to seek and win the hand of Kriemhild. The relationship for Siegfreid is not as direct as that of Perseus, yet the means accomplish similar ends. They both, in their ways, establish dynasties from these unions, and the offspring, either the children of simply the products of the relationship, change the course of history. It is also interesting to note that Pegasus was said to have sprung from the decapitated corpse of Medusa, so that as from a monster comes great beauty, so does Brunhild, after her defeat, go from being rather monstrous/other in her not traditionally feminine nature to a beauty, a virtuous and obedient wife who all but disappears behind the walls of her husband’s home. This connection begins all because of one word: invisibility.

The other vibrant connection that can be made is between Brunhild and Atalanta. Both are strong women, more powerful than most, and they choose to remain single and unmarried. In order to keep their power from waning by being forced into the hands of an unworthy man, they concoct trials that, presumably, no one can win. We know of Brunhild’s trials and that her reputation for strength is directly related to her choice of contests. The same is true for Atalanta. As a skilled runner and huntress, she once participated in the Calydonian Boar Hunt, and she struck the first blow on the vicious beast. While she did not kill it, Meleager awarded her the hide to show that he knew that if not for her, the victory would have been different. But, she did not want to marry, so any suitors for her hand must engage in a foot race with her. The ;psers opf this race would be killed. But one intrepid man, Melanion, prayed to Aphrodite for help in winning Atalanta. The goddess gave him three golden apples, which he used during the race, dropping them so that she was distracted, which allowed him to win and become her husband, and heir to her father’s kingdom. Thus, Atalanta goes from being one of the most impressive women in history, powerful in her won right and more so than most men, to a wife. Though these women influence the tales simply by having been what they were, they are no longer themselves, they are their husband’s wives, and as such, not quite as heroic as they once were. Atalanta and Brunhild, once the wedding night is successful, fade from the stories, are no longer relevant.

When it comes down to it, our English system of education and knowledge can be tied back most accurately to classical times. We really did get a lot from the Greeks. So, even though we should refrain from making these connections, we do so because it is natural. It is what we have been taught to do. This does not eliminate the problem of their accuracy and value, but rather it indicates that we are products of the classical age. We make these connections because they better help us to understand what and who we are dealing with, so we line them up against the more familiar archetypes to see if that adds another level of meaning. It absolutely does, but the question becomes, what would a German student do? They too have the benefit/hindrance of classical themes as a part of their educational system, but they also have a unique perspective as, for this reading, they are looking within their own culture as well. How valid are our links and connections when lined up against those of an “authentic” audience?