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.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
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…
What Women Want, Or Why Marrying A Dentist Is A Good Thing in Some Cultures
As I mentioned in class the other day, I have been enjoying the parallels between the women of Parzival and in the Gawain myths, particularly Dame Ragnelle. While these ideas are not as fully fleshed out as I would like, I am hoping that this post will encourage commentary on the women who have been (intentionally) left out of this comparison.
We begin with Dame Ragnelle before the transformation, who was "so fowlle and horyble/ she had two tethe on every syde/ as borys tuskes, I wolle nott hyde,/ of lengthe a large handfulle/ the one tusk went up and the other doun" (Ln. 547-551). This description of a woman with tusks is remarkably similar to the description of Cundrie, "her nose was like a dog's and to the length of several spans a pair of tusks jutted from her jaws" (163). What is remarkable here is not that medieval women apparently were predisposed to having faces like walruses, but that in both of these cases the tusks were simply not enough. As Professor W mentioned, they were a span, a hand length, at least in length, Ragnelle's a large handful and Cundrie's several hand spans. I began to wonder what the purpose of the demonization of these women in this way was, and all I could determine was that to have tusks would impair the use of one's mouths, distort the ability to eat, to speak and to kiss, all things that the average lady would be expected to do with grace. Tusks would definitely prevent that.
After Dame Ragnelle was transformed, there is little to be said of her. We know that she becomes a beautiful as she before was ugly, but what the author notes is that her personality seems to change. As she is now beautiful, it is easier to see that instead of being confrontational, as she was with Arthur, she becomes the paragon of femininity. She is described at "the fayrest Lady of alle Englond," which puts here even above Queen G (Ln. 826). She only has a few years with Gawain before she dies, but during that time "in her lyfe she grevyd hym nevere; therfor was nevere woman to hym lever," which is part of what makes her the fairest of them all (Ln. 823-4). Her devotion to him, her ability to keep him happy, her loving spirit and ideal femininity all are a part of what makes her the pinnacle of women in the Gawain cycle, the one that assures that while "Gawen was weddyd oft in his days; butt so welle he nevere lovyd woman always" (Ln.832-3).
Queen Belacane gets a brief amount of time with her wandering knight as well, before he leaves her. In doing so, Gahmuret achieves what the storyteller of Dame Ragnelle does, preserves her in the mind of the hero (and the readers) as she last was , young and beautiful. Belacane represents the ideal woman as the story begins, her only flaw being her faith. But she is described by Gahmuret as "although she was an infidel, a more affectionate spirit of womanliness had never stolen over a woman's heart...her modest ways were a pure baptism, as was the rain that fell on her--the flood descending from her eyes down to her sabled breast...her pleasures in life were devotion to sorrow and grief's true doctrine" (27). Though she is an infidel, though her breast is sable, she is still the pinnacle of femininity in the eyes of young Gahmuret, and while he may leave her, and while he may find plenty of other women, we hope that he always longs for her as Gawain does for Ragnelle.
We begin with Dame Ragnelle before the transformation, who was "so fowlle and horyble/ she had two tethe on every syde/ as borys tuskes, I wolle nott hyde,/ of lengthe a large handfulle/ the one tusk went up and the other doun" (Ln. 547-551). This description of a woman with tusks is remarkably similar to the description of Cundrie, "her nose was like a dog's and to the length of several spans a pair of tusks jutted from her jaws" (163). What is remarkable here is not that medieval women apparently were predisposed to having faces like walruses, but that in both of these cases the tusks were simply not enough. As Professor W mentioned, they were a span, a hand length, at least in length, Ragnelle's a large handful and Cundrie's several hand spans. I began to wonder what the purpose of the demonization of these women in this way was, and all I could determine was that to have tusks would impair the use of one's mouths, distort the ability to eat, to speak and to kiss, all things that the average lady would be expected to do with grace. Tusks would definitely prevent that.
After Dame Ragnelle was transformed, there is little to be said of her. We know that she becomes a beautiful as she before was ugly, but what the author notes is that her personality seems to change. As she is now beautiful, it is easier to see that instead of being confrontational, as she was with Arthur, she becomes the paragon of femininity. She is described at "the fayrest Lady of alle Englond," which puts here even above Queen G (Ln. 826). She only has a few years with Gawain before she dies, but during that time "in her lyfe she grevyd hym nevere; therfor was nevere woman to hym lever," which is part of what makes her the fairest of them all (Ln. 823-4). Her devotion to him, her ability to keep him happy, her loving spirit and ideal femininity all are a part of what makes her the pinnacle of women in the Gawain cycle, the one that assures that while "Gawen was weddyd oft in his days; butt so welle he nevere lovyd woman always" (Ln.832-3).
Queen Belacane gets a brief amount of time with her wandering knight as well, before he leaves her. In doing so, Gahmuret achieves what the storyteller of Dame Ragnelle does, preserves her in the mind of the hero (and the readers) as she last was , young and beautiful. Belacane represents the ideal woman as the story begins, her only flaw being her faith. But she is described by Gahmuret as "although she was an infidel, a more affectionate spirit of womanliness had never stolen over a woman's heart...her modest ways were a pure baptism, as was the rain that fell on her--the flood descending from her eyes down to her sabled breast...her pleasures in life were devotion to sorrow and grief's true doctrine" (27). Though she is an infidel, though her breast is sable, she is still the pinnacle of femininity in the eyes of young Gahmuret, and while he may leave her, and while he may find plenty of other women, we hope that he always longs for her as Gawain does for Ragnelle.
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.
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