Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
Written in the late fourteenth century,
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, along with a few similar works, is attributed to a nameless poet who was most likely rewriting popular poems of chivalry from throughout Europe. The poem uses characters from Arthurian romance and elements from Celtic myth, Irish folklore, and French romance.
The first scene takes place at Camelot as King Arthur hosts a Christmas feast for his knights. The feast is interrupted by the entrance of the Green Knight, a handsome, elegant man, but completely green. His clothes, skin, hair, and horse--all green and covered in precious gems. He carries a huge ax, and challenges King Arthur and his knights. His challenge was simple: whoever wished may strike a single blow upon him, but the blow would be returned a year and a day later. Gawain rises to the challenge and takes the Green Knight's head off with a single swipe. Horrified, Gawain and other knights watch as the Green Knight picks up his head, tells Gawain to meet him in the Green Chapel, and mounts his horse to ride off.
For ten months Gawain awaits the time he must begin his search for the Green Chapel. He then takes his leave of Camelot, traveling alone. On Christmas Eve he prays to Mary to provide a place where he might hear the mass--a castle is revealed in the depths of the woods. He gains admission to the castle, where he finds hospitality and reverence as a knight of King Arthur. Honored by the presence of such an illustrious guest, the lord of the castle persuades Gawain to stay at the castle until New Year's.
The nights at the castle are filled with feasting and revelry. During the day, the lord hunts, but Gawain stays behind at the castle resting after his long journey. He is visited by the lady of the castle, however, who makes bold attempts to garner his interest. Gawain, caught by the laws of chivalry between the duty to his host and the duty to a noble lady, artfully dodges the lady's advances. At night, the lord returns to split his hunting prize with Gawain, for they had made an agreement to share any winnings from the day, and asks for his share of Gawain's. Gawain complies, courteously kissing the lord (as he was kissed by the lady), but refusing to reveal the name of his paramour.
This becomes the pattern at the castle--each day the lord returns with various hunting prizes to share, and Gawain gives him the kiss he received. One morning, however, the lady gives Gawain a girdle which she promised would not allow its wearer to be slain. Gawain, who at first refused any gifts she offered, decides to take the girdle. He doesn't tell the lord, however, for he fears his relationship with the lady would be discovered, and so violates their agreement.
The lord of the castle leads Gawain to the Green Chapel the next morning. He meets the Green Knight who strikes three blows at Gawain. The first two are misses. The third however, though rightly aimed and struck with full force, softly glances on Gawain's neck. The Green Knight then reveals himself as the lord of the castle, explaining that his wife's actions were directed by him to test the worthiness of Gawain. Gawain had passed two tests by honestly sharing his winnings--but he didn't share the girdle, and so broke the code of chivalry. The third hit was a punishment, and would have been fatal if not for the girdle.
Gawain is shamed by his actions, and confesses his motives and failings. The lord tells him that he is cleansed of fault by confession, and allows Gawain to keep the girdle as a token of respect. Gawain declines the lord's invitation to return to the castle, and instead travels to Camelot, where he shares the tale with King Arthur and his court, "his face flushed with shame" over his self-preserving lie.
The reactions to Gawain's misdeed are varied--while Gawain is fuming with shame, Bertilak (the Green Knight) laughs and tells him he's done penance by feeling a blow of the ax. King Arthur and his court greet Gawain's tale with laughter, and the king decrees that all will wear a green girdle, so that Gawain's "blemish" would not set him apart. It is interesting that others are so accepting of Gawain's actions--for it seems that he would be judged most by those who uphold the code of chivalry. The end of the story seems to make the case that all men are faulted, but that confession and punishment cleanse the soul of guilt.
The descriptions of the Green Knight and Gawain are very interesting--especially descriptions of their garments. The Green Knight is completely covered in Green, even his jewels shine a "greenish glow." Gawain, however, is clad in red silk and velvet, gold and gems. It would seem that the Green Knight represents immortality (green as the color of life) and man working in accordance with nature--he seems to spring directly from the earth. Gawain is resplendent in his beautiful armor, with its symbols of faithfulness and purity. His garments seem to represent a cultured warrior, schooled in courtly ways and religious doctrine. The poet condemns neither the Green Knight nor Gawain, though they represent such different ideals--perhaps he feels that each is valid.
The above image was taken from the Wikipedia entry of
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight--it is a medieval illumination of the scene in Camelot after Gawain strikes off the head of the Green Knight. It can be found
here.
Dream of the Rood
The Dream of the Rood was written by an unknown author in Northumbrian England around the end of the seventh century. It was preserved in the Vercelli Book of nothern Italy, a collection of Anglo-Saxon poems and sermons. The greatness of the poem lies not only in its language, but the idea of Christ's suffering and triumph in crucifixion being represented by the experience of the actual cross, or the
rood.
This is a dream poem, in which the
scop recounts his dream of the True Cross and the message which the cross imparts. The poem begins with a description of the cross:
"It seemed I saw the Tree itself
borne on air, light wound about it,
--a beam of brightest wood, a beacon clad
in overlapping gold, glancing gems
fair at its foot, and five stones
set in a crux flashed from the crosstree."
We immediately see that the cross is a mirror to Christ, the five stones representative of Christ's five wounds. The cross recounts its experience as it was hauled away from home and set on a hill-top, tied fast and martyred with Christ.
The brightness of the cross stands out against the darkness of night--this theme of light vs. dark is played upon many times within the poem. The light of the cross is a symbol of purification and holiness gained by suffering. This idea of a sort of purification by experiencing pain is prominent in many literary works, especially tragedies, and it at once is a symbol of Christ as man and as God. Though the physical torture that Christ is subjected to draws him nearer to man's experience of earth, Christ's relentless focus on truth and righteousness brings him to God.
The cross is also a symbol of man's glory in subjecting to God's will. The cross recounts that as he waited for Christ to climb upon him:
"I dared not break or bend aside
against God's will, though the ground itself
shook at my feet. Fast I stood,
who falling, could have felled them all."
The cross was able to take action against this deed--but doing so was against God's will, for it would have rid humanity of salvation through Christ's death. The cross was rewarded for his steadfast adherence to God and Christ, and man can earn similar reward:
"Behold, the Prince of Glory then exalted me above the trees of the forest, the Keeper of the Kingdom of Heaven; just as he also, Almighty God, for the sake of all mankind, exalted His mother, Mary herself, above all womankind."
The
scop is left with the message that all who wish to enter heaven will do so only through the Rood--a reminder that hardship and adversity must be met with a mind set to truth and justice and devoutness to God, that mankind will be judged in the final day. "He shall ask before the multitude, Where is the man who is willing to taste bitter death for the Lord's name's sake?" The man is Christ, the cross, and all souls who reach paradise.
The above image is the cover of a book by Brendan Cassidy showing the four sides of the Ruthwell Cross, a cross in Dumfriesshire which displays scenes of the Christ and the crucifixion, along with some text from the
Dream of the Rood. The cross dates from the eighth century, and the link to the image can be found
here. A link to information about the Ruthwell Cross can be found
here.
Pearl
Attributed to the poet of
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, "Pearl" is a dream vision composed of alliterative verse, an allegory teaching its audience the virtues patience and obedience.
The narrator begins by telling of his most precious Pearl, lost for eternity to death. He falls asleep mourning over her grave, and a dream carries him to another world. He looks about this foreign place, noting its rare beauty, then sees his Pearl, dressed in white and covered in priceless pearls, across the river. When he speaks to her, asking if she is the Pearl he lost, she reminds him that she was only a flower, which in its time must wither. The narrator asks to cross the river and be united with Pearl, but she says such an action is against God's will. They continue their dialogue for a time, the narrator asking questions of the afterlife and heaven. Pearl instructs him in church doctrine, the wrathful justice of God, and the mercy of Christ. She bears a large pearl upon her chest, and refers to it as "the pearl of price." It represents salvation, and can only be won by turning from the world and accepting Christ. Their talk then turns to the city of New Jerusalem, the heavenly city where souls reside. The narrator wishes to see the city, and looks across the river to behold a paradise of gems and precious gold, the flawless home of God. The narrator is so moved by the beauty of the scene that when he sees Pearl join the parade of maidens moving serenly through the city, he yearns to be among them. He tries to plunge into the river, but at that moment, he wakes from the dream. He was again grieved at the loss of his Pearl, but the experience has given him the desire to serve God fully.
The pearl as a symbol is pure and spotless, priceless. In the beginning of the poem, it exists for the narrator as a precious worldly possession.
The above image is an oil painting which depicts the narrator speaking with Pearl. It can be found here.
The Seven Deadly Sins
"The Seven Deadly Sins," from
The Castle of Peserverance, is the second in a collection of Medieval morality plays which dramatize the role that the seven sins play in subservience to Belial (the Devil) who wishes to destroy Mankind against the seven virtues under direction of Christ who wishes to save him. It was written in the early fifteenth century and performed throughout villages in East Anglia.
In the first play in
The Castle of Perseverance, Mankind is led astray by temptation, but brought back by Penitence and Confession to the Castle of Perseverance, where he can remain pure through any attempt by the Devil to lure him to sin. In "The Seven Deadly Sins," the sins, led by Covetousness, draw Mankind out of the Castle by promising that he will retain his worldly possessions after death. Mankind happily acquiesces to the sins as they extol their "virtues" in protecting his selfish interests. The Good Angel worries over the fate of Mankind, bewailing that there is nothing he can do to lead Mankind back to righteousness, and the Bad Angel explains that Mankind doesn't want what God has to offer--that Mankind would prefer pleasure over salvation. The Good Angel asks for Confession's intervention to save Mankind at the end of the play. In the third piece, Mankind is sent to hell after ignoring the pleas of the Good Angel. His Soul can only reach Heaven through the work of Mercy.
"The Seven Deadly Sins" shows subtly that one sin easily leads Mankind to another, so that he becomes ignorant to his falling state. The basic struggle that Mankind wrestles with is his love for self and his responsibility to Christ.
The above image is a representation of the seven deadly sins painted by Hieronymus Bosch in 1485. The entire work can be found
here.
Everyman
Everyman is a morality play, a genre with the purpose of showing the battle between good and evil for man's soul--and revealing the direction that man must take for salvation.
Everyman is the most famous of the Medieval morality plays, and it explores the necessity of dissociating one's self from the transitory material world and approaching Death with a conscience cleaned by Confession. The earliest manuscript was printed in 1515, but it is believed that the story had Eastern origins.
The drama begins with God summoning Everyman to him through the messenger Death. The feared and powerful Death appearing as a servant to God in the opening scene makes it absolutely clear to the audience that God is in supreme command. When Death approaches Everyman and orders him to appear before God, Everyman does everything in his power to delay his inevitable judgment. "O Death," he cries, "thou comest when I had thee least in mind." He bribes Death with money and begs for more time to arrange his "accounts," but to no avail.
Death tells Everyman that whoever wishes to accompany him on his journey to God may do so, and Everyman immediately thinks on Fellowship. By chance, Fellowship happens to walking by and stops to greet Everyman. When he sees Everyman's sadness, he promises to do all he can to help his friend: "For, in faith, and thou go to hell, I will not forsake thee by the way!" But when Fellowship truly understands Everyman's plight, he cries off, unwilling to meet terror and doom though he promised his aid. Kindred and Cousin have the same response. Goods promises to cheer Everyman but then claims he cannot accompany him on his journey. Good Deeds speaks from the ground, telling Everyman he would gladly take the journey, but that he is too weak from lack of care. He sends Everyman to his sister, Knowledge.
Knowledge promises to guide Everyman on his journey. She first orders Everyman to seek Confession, to purify his soul. Confession awards him with Penance--a scourge to punish himself with. The patient suffering he undergoes gives strength to Good Deeds, who is able to rise and continue the journey with Everyman. Knowledge clothes Everyman in the garment of Contrition, an outfit without pride. Everyman calls his earthly virtues to finish his journey to the grave; Beauty, Strength, Discretion, and the Five Wits all promise to remain with him. Beauty turns back at the site of the grave, fearing decay. Strength, Discretion, and the Five Wits quickly follow. Knowledge tells Everyman that he will leave also when Everyman dies.
Forsaken by all but Good Deeds, Everyman enters his grave, praying for mercy from mighty God. Knowledge tells that Good Deeds will grant Everyman a place in heaven. The Doctor gives a summation of the play to the audience, pointing out that only Good Deeds would accompany Everyman to the grave, and that all else is folly.
In an allegory of the soul's approach to death,
Everyman clearly explains the Church doctrine regarding the importance of the final sacrament and confession, as well as the need to disregard transitory attachments. The personification of such things as goods and beauty are striking--the utter lack of concern the other characters feel for Everyman's plight is moving.
The above image is a page from the manuscript of
Everyman depicting Death's summoning. It can be found
here.
The Wakefield Second Shepherd's Play
"The Second Shepherd's Play" is representative of the mystery play, a dramatization of an episode from the Bible, often referred to as a "miracle play." The play was written in most likely the late fifteenth century, and comes from an folk-tale. The plot of the play is at times a mimic and a reversal of the birth of Christ. Though the play is comic, the metaphors within it reveal the hope that Christ brings to humanity.
The drama begins with a conversation between shepherds as they watch over their sheep. They are complaining of the hardships of life, their jobs and employers, and the weariness they feel. Mak enters the scene, chimes in with complaints about his wife, and waits until the shepherds fall asleep. He then takes the opportunity to steal an unguarded sheep. He carries it home, and his wife Gill devises the scheme to put the sheep in a cradle and pretend it's her newborn son. When the shepherds realize they lost a sheep, they immediately blame Mak, and search his home. They eventually discover that the babe is their missing sheep. They punish Mak by tossing him in a blanket, then return to the fields. An angel arrives and calls to the shepherds, telling them to find the child born in Bethlehem. They enter the stable and discover Mary and the Christ-child.
The first half of the play is an interesting reversal of the nativity scene: Mak's arrival is much like the angel's, but his "quaint" spectacle is a false show. Gill, with her drunken and scheming nature, is a foil to Mary, who appears more gentle and fair following Gill's performance. The ram hidden in the cradle is horned, with a long snout, and representative of the devil--the audience is shown that as evil enters the world, good will be brought forth to conquer it. The peaceful, awe-stricken tone at the end of the play is very moving, especially after the previous trivial complaints of the shepherds and Mak.
The Wanderer
Written in the 10th century by an unknown poet, "The Wanderer" is an elegy, a plaintive call to lost joy and comfort. It represents the thoughts of a warrior whose lord has died, who searches for another benefactor in the chilling winter. The language is frigid and weary as the wandering knight makes his way across freezing waters, remembering times of glory and happiness in the mead-hall of his former protector:
"...it all comes back, he embraces and kisses
the lord he is loyal to, lays on his knee
hands and head as he did long ago
when he knew the triumphs and treasures of the throne.
Then the unfriended man wakens again,
watches in front of him waves of grey,
sea-birds swimming and flashing their wings,
snow falling, hoarfrost thickened with hail."
The warrior carries with him the smallest glimmer of hope that he will find the hall of a generous lord. He thinks of the slow decay that the earth and man's work is prey to: "So the Maker of men laid waste this globe,/ till those old cities, the labour of titans,/ stood in their desolation silent after revelry." Seeing the crumbling world around him, the warrior can take comfort only in the promise of heaven. Even while searching for a new protector, knowing that all will end, he can meditate on his faith and receive the strength to see the wintry-gray day.
Gentilesse
The poem "Gentilesse" was written by Geoffrey Chaucer in the late fourteenth century as a reply to the assumption that those among the nobility were noble. He writes that man must create and preserve his own virtue. Gentilesse, a combination of truth, righteousness, generosity, and other necessary virtues, can not be bequeathed to an heir the way riches are. He provides greater discussion of gentilesse in the "Wife of Bath's Tale" and "Clerk's Tale" of his Canterbury Tales.
Sir Orfeo
Discovered in manuscripts dating to the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries,
Sir Orfeo is representative of the "Breton lays," retellings of popular stories sung by bards. It is possibly a translation from French, for a
lai d'Orphey is referred to often in Medieval manuscripts.
The tale of Sir Orfeo brings Celtic mythology (especially the idea of fairy abductions) to the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. The Greek myth, however, was a story of tragedy, not eventual recovery. Orpheus traveled to the underworld to win back his dead wife Eurydice, who was granted to him on the condition that he not look upon her until they exited Hades. Orpheus glanced back, and she died a second death. It is his lack of faith which causes the tragedy, for love without faith is not enough to save Eurydice. The addition of fairies and the recovery of Heurodis in
Sir Orfeo may dilute the original meaning of the Greek myth, but they create a narrative rich in excitement and drama.
After a prologue which introduces the story as a lay, the audience is given a description of Sir Orfeo, a noble, generous, and courteous king--born of the gods Pluto and Juno--the best of harp-players. His wife Heurodis is noted for her beauty and goodness. The story then begins with Heurodis napping beneath an "impe-tre." She wakes ill, and is rushed to the palace, where she makes the claim to Orfeo that she must return to the tree, for the fairies are going to take her away. Orfeo and his men try to protect her, but to no avail--she disappears and Orfeo loses himself in grief.
Orfeo gives his kingdom up, resolved to spend the rest of his life in exile for failing the queen he swore to protect. He orders his high steward to rule until his death, at which point a new king should be chosen. Orfeo takes only his harp and a cloak and spends ten years in impoverished solitude, finding only joy in his harp. One day, he spies his wife among the fairies that ride and dance through the fields. Their eyes meet, and she only sheds tears at the fate that caused his disheveled and poor appearance. When she flees to the fairy kingdom, he follows, gaining access by claiming to be a minstrel to the King of the Fairies.
Orfeo plays for the Fairy King, and plays so well that the king grants him a boon. Orfeo attains his wife, and quickly works to regain his own kingdom by testing the faithfulness of his steward and then revealing himself as king.
Sir Orfeo's immediate reaction to the loss of his queen is despair. He would never have reunited with her by his own doing--it seems merely coincidental that he was in a place to see her with the fiaries ten years after his exile. His primary inaction is indicative of his acceptance of loss, a virtue highly regarded in the Medieval period. Orfeo is shown to be wise and patient, and perhaps it is for these traits that he is rewarded with the chance to regain his wife.
The above image is of Orpheus, surrounded by the animals who are captivated by the sound of his harp. Can be found
here with another translation of the
Sir Orfeo lay.
Beowulf
The manuscript of the Beowulf poem has been dated to the 10th century, and it chronicles the mythical stories of Beowulf, king of the Geats, who destroyed enemies of man, fought countless battles, and died an honorable warrior. (
Wikipedia entry)
There seems to be a lot of tension between Christianity and the ancient pagan faiths. Many times, the collisions between the religions merge them--the people have a way of fitting the newer idea of Christianity to their earlier beliefs. But there are many instances when their pagan rites and beliefs are considered wrong by the narrator:
"At times in their temples they made pagan's vows,
Sacrifices to their idols, in their speeces beseeching
the destroyer of souls to help the people
in their common affliction. Such was their custom,
the hope of the heathen; it was hell that came
called back to their minds, of the Creator they knew nothing...
"...O unhappy man
who will thrust his soul through terrible perversity
into fire's embrace, eschewing solace..."
The narrator seems to have an accusing tone in the strength of his words. Perhaps Grendel is punishment for these transgressions--like the flood or various plagues suffered by errant biblical races.
Grendel himself is a fascinating character. He is written as pure evil. I'm not certain whether I should imagine him as having a corporeal form or as some amorphic, mystical, evil "thing." Grendel seems to be an embodiment of sin and wrath, more than merely an angry monster. He is attributed with much more power and meaning than a mortal, breathing monster would have. There are many biblical references to Grendel: he's descended from Cain, the "world of demonkind" becomes his home after being "cast out by his Creator." More than being merely a plague upon these pagan people, Grendel seems to be an embodiment of Satan, of all evil and hatred, working on his own behalf to destroy mankind, symbolized by the brotherhood in the Great Hall.
I find Beowulf's asking to see the treasure that the dragon guards hard to understand. It seems that Beowulf want to be ensured that his death has purpose, but his asking Wiglaf to retrieve old treasure as he draws his final breaths seems to be materialistic, especially in light of the Christian influence in the work. When Beowulf claims that he's glad he'll be able to leave riches to his people, I understand his concern--however, he then demands that the treasure be placed in the barrow built to commemmorate his death. Does the poet intend to represent Beowulf as vain and materialistic, or are these misreadings--perhaps such rites were so common that it would be remiss if Beowulf hadn't demanded his treasure to be buried with him. The last lines of the poem extol Beowulf as the greatest warrior and an honorable king, but many of Beowulf's actions seem to be evidence of a proud, self-centered nature. Beowulf often appears to be searching for fame and fortune, rather than truth and justice--but perhaps that was honorable then, for those warriors. Fame, after all, was all that brought prosperity to warriors.
It is interesting (and somewhat sad) that the final treasure Beowulf attains is rusted and old. This mimics the decline that Beowulf and his people have fallen into. Also, the dragon receives much more praise and respect from the narrator than Grendel and his mother. I suppose the dragon was only acting in reveng to protect his treasure--that is more forgivable than the violent "glut-lust" and empty hate that prompted Grendel's attacks on the hall.
Hrothgar's sermon seems to foretell the fate of Beowulf--there is a lot of foreshadowing in the poem. He tells Beowulf that time can change all things, but also that a proud leader can bring misfortune to his people. It would seem that Beowulf, knowing he would likely die when he decided to confront the dragon, has done just that. He robs his people of their leader, and brings destruction to his own kingdom by falling in battle.
GrendelI read John Gardner's
Grendel to supplement the epic poem. The novel is narrated by Grendel and recounts his life. Although Grendel was never clearly "the good guy," Gardner did bring some questions to the narrative.
Beowulf tends to focus on outward appearances and actions, the poet doesn't give many indications that the characters may be thinking. The characters are merely archetypes set to play in a popular epic. Gardner's novel is centered on the inner struggles that each character faces--the character Grendel, just as the men he watched, attempted to come to a greater understanding of his place and purpose in the universe, until he realized that he had no specific purpose.
Gardner brings the battle that men fight against insignificance to the front of his novel, and not only through Grendel's perception. Hrothgar's mind is glimpsed into, as well as Wealtheow's and Unferth's. The character's are given motives and reasons to act the way they did the epic poem--all characters but Beowulf. Interestingly, Gardner's Beowulf is an insane, sadistic, and incomprehensible man. He speaks rationally and is strong, just as in the epic poem, but he lacks humanity. He seems to function only for his pride, in the name of honor. Beowulf destroys Grendel in a sort of maniacal glee--he isn't a hero in the novel.
This, I think, rubs entirely against the intentions of the
Beowulf epic. It isn't a poem about the inner turmoil man faces and his reaction to it--
Beowulf is about time, and the changes that time brings about. It is about fate. "What rises must fall." Gardner's story approaches the idea of fate--that it is inescapable--but he doesn't focus on the tragedy that fate can bring, or the (Christian) moral obligation that man has to his own fate.
