Medieval Literature Research Diary

[TW: Rape. The issue is not discussed in detail or depth, but reference to contemporary society is made.]

In 'The Wife of Bath's Tale' there is an invaluable concept evoked which is directly applicable to a contemporary societal problem:rape culture.When read in this manner, the tale can be seen to identify the root of the problem with rape culture, seek to solve it and ultimately teach a moral lesson regarding the gender divide.

The mentality which is condemned within the text is one of unrestrained desire and self-control. This can be seen in the passage describing the crime:

'He saugh a mayde walkinge him biforn, Of which mayde anon, maugree hir heed, By verray force he rafte hire maydenheed.' (ll.886-888)

It is demonstrated in this passage that the girl's virginity is taken away by 'force' despite any efforts on her part to try to prevent such a thing from happening. There is also no indication of any real rational reason for the Knight to do such a thing, no description of his love for her, or her beauty, merely that he wished to do as he pleased.

This idea is then reinforced by the text when the Knight cries and comes to the conclusion that 'he may nat do al as him lyketh'. (l.914) However, it can be interpreted that the root of the problem is not a malicious intention to hurt anyone, but instead an incomprehension of why such a thing is wrong.

Huppé ('Rape and Woman's Sovereignty in the Wife of Bath's Tale') seems to pick up on this interpretation also when he writes:

“A problem, in fact, remains: is the conduct of the knight actually excusable or is it perhaps symptomatic of a deep-seated failure to understand the basic principle of Courtly Love, the sovereignty of women? Was he fully aware of the " doctrine " in raping the girl? Was he making the proper distinction between lady and animal?” (p.380)

The last rhetorical question is extremely poignant, did he make any distinction between a woman as a human being with soul and free will, over a souless, instinct-driven animal? No it is not clear that he did. In medieval society, the woman depicted as an animal or as irrational, instinct-driven being is not an uncommon thing. However, in this tale we actually see people (unsuprisingly, women) trying to combat the root of the problem. Instead of brutally condemning the man, the Queen decides to see if she can make him see the error of his ways.

Now there is an irony in the tale that the Old Woman forces the Knight to marry her and this mimics and inverts the lack of choice the raped woman had at the beginning of the tale. In such a way we might argue that the Old Woman is just as bad as the Knight, but the key here is the value of 'choice'. Only when the Knight has the choice taken away from him, does he realise why it is important for him to take into consideration those around him, and so he allows his wife to choose her own image, no matter how it will affect him.

The best book about Chaucer, which I would highly recommend when it comes to understanding the tales, is Helen Cooper's Oxford Guides to The Canterbury Tales, which I must have referenced a hundred times now, but it really is wonderful. The most interesting thing Cooper says in her notes on the Prioress is:

 ‘In the Prologue, the Prioress compares herself to a child incapable of speech before the ‘worthynesse’ of the Virgin, and prays for guidance in ‘my song that I shal of yow seye’ (481-7/1671—7). The boy in the Tale learns a song in praise of the Virgin, of which he is too young to have understanding.’ (291)

This provoked me into thinking about why the Prioress is ‘incapable’ of speech and needs ‘guidance’, whilst the young boy seems to be able to do so easily. I wonder if perhaps the Prioress’ inability to sing well, reflects the true ‘entente’ of her heart, because she isn’t truly, wholeheartedly devoted to the Virgin Mary as the boy is in the tale.

One adjective I would use to describe the Prioress would be ‘seeming’. In this manner, the outward does not reflect the inward. The Prioress seems to be pious and well-mannered, as seen in her portrait in the General Prologue, but there isn’t a true ‘entente’ in her heart for her religion or her devotion. I would use the ‘emerald’ in the tale, which matches her green rosary beads to demonstrate this, since apparently emeralds were supposed to change colour if you were a sinner, although of course we know they wouldn’t, so they are truly an outward reflection of a lie. She ‘seems’ to be what she is not. Although I wouldn’t say that she is particularly evil, but perhaps misguided in her judgements and affectations.

To continue this idea of ‘seeming’ I would look to the structure of the tale itself and the parts which make it into a whole. The tropes used here: Jews as bad people, a young pure innocent slain and the Virgin Mary, portray a lack of imagination within the tale and create a ‘blanket’ effect for it. Instead of reciting a specific, genuine occurrence, [such as the Hugh of Lincoln story, she seems to know about?] the Prioress creates a fiction with no real specificity, either showing her lack of knowledge or, more likely, she creates a story half-heartedly compiled, which she believes to be something she should know about: a ‘miracle of the Virgin’ story. Again, creating a false impression of herself on the pilgrims and the reader.

Another way in which she cares more about appearance than fact would be reflected in her false French speech and her well-mannered behaviour described in the General Prologue.

One of the most intriguing and ambiguous parts of the Pardoner's Tale for me was teh identity of the Old Man who acts as the catalyst of the tale and leads the three men to their own deaths. When reading it I though perhaps he embodied a Christian test of some nature, to see if the three men would be so greedy as to hunt for the money tree and kill each other in the process. However, Mitchell's 'Ethics and Exemplary Narrative in Chaucer and Gower' was extremely interesting when examining the possibilities of such a character:

'He has been taken variously to be the wandering Jew, Paul's "old man," the emissary of Death, Death itself, and most recently as the Pardoner's subaltern ego, instantiating a sophisticated kind of despair expressive of the Pardoner's complex psychic cndition, functioning to challenge the otherwise simple moral psychology of the tale. But he may quite simply embody wishful thinking, standing for the Pardoner's desire never to die and face up to his sins even as he reproaches others for theirs.' (p.106)

I like the idea of him embodying death, death being the only thing that will never end, there will forever be death as long as there is life, but all life must die and death never shall. Perhaps, however, that doesn't fit with the rest of the narrative exceedingly well, either way I found all of the observations listed above extremely interesting.

In terms of trying to fit this puzzle piece more correctly into the context of the rest of The Pardoner's Tale and the frame narrative of The Canterbury Talesandin the context of Chaucer's writing, Hamilton ('Death and Old Age in "The Pardoner's Tale"') has a very interesting and well-explained idea saying that 'he must stand for Old Age as the Harbinger of Death' and then she goes on further examining this:

The term "old man" is applied to him seven times, " old churl " once, and " age " meaning old age four times. He is expressly spoken of as the spy of Death and " oon of his assent." Chaucer intensifies the dramatic irony of the situation by representing his veteran as having outlived all ordinary human desires and weaknesses, even the love of money, the characteristic vice of age. Thus he becomes a proper foil for the greedy young revelers, and can direct them to the pot of gold that he has passed by as worthless, at the same time warning them, from the vantage-point of age, that for them there is death in the pot. (p.572)

The idea that the Old Man is simultaneously the catalyst (as I proposed) and the foil (as Hamilton proposes) for the three men makes him a very prominent and important figure. In a tale about Death, which begins with one death, ends in three and where the main plot line centres around the death of death, can we really argue that the moral truly is 'Radix malorum est cupiditas' as the Pardoner wishes us to believe? As Mitchell says above that the Old Man may be 'standing for the Pardoner's desire never to die', but ultimately I believe the entire tale embodies the Pardoner's wish to never die. I would argue the morbid prospect that the tale is in fact a lament on the inevitableness of death and the three rioters actually represent the Pardoner himself who has sought greed his entire life, but will ultimately cause the eternal death of himself and his soul. Furthermore, the rioter's decision to kill one another can therefore be argued to reflect the paradoxical reality of the Pardoner's life where his worldly and bodily self seek money and greed at the expense of the well-being of the soul.

So who is the Old Man if the Pardoner is the rioters? I would surmise that he represents a weary death-like figure, not as something vindictive and cruel like a reaper with a scythe, but a tired and impartial figure who merely entices, but ultimately does not care.

I have four followers on here? That's amazing, I didn't think anyone would find my ideas interesting. Yay me!

The first thing that struck me reading 'The Pardoner's Tale' is just how similar to a preacher's speech it is at the beginning when it demonises alcohol. Luckily, when doing my secondary reading I discovered that it's genre tends to be linked to a confession or sermon, as mentioned by Cooper: 'it does have a good deal in common with a sermon - a biblical text; an indictment of sin; the main story as illustrative exemplum; the application of the story to the congregation; and a concluding prayer.' (p.263) 

The genre is highly poignant then, considering the Pardoner has admitted and confessed to his hypocritical and selfish ways in the prologue. In fact throughout the entirety of the text we find constant contrasts and contradictions which serve to examine the dual nature of the Pardoner himself. 

Reiss picks up on this in 'The Final Irony of the Pardoner's Tale' and notes that 'the Pardoner first reveals himself as charlatan and then at the end strikes the pose of honest man of God' (260), whilst Cooper pinpoints the setting as adding to this contradiction also. ('Moreover he chooses this tale while drinking in the tavern setting he so fiercely condemns'. [p.268])

Is it really hypocrisy though? I had a small discussion with Professor Edwards in today's seminar in which he pointed out my flaws in arguing such an assumption, because the Pardoner does not practice what he preaches. However, he admits his flaws and is open about his hypocrisy and by the very definition of hypocrisy there is no admission, thus subverting his own hypocritical nature. I found this idea examined further in Reiss' essay:

The implication then is that with the Pardoner there is no dramatic irony of the sort found in the Wife of Bath-no difference between what the char-acter says and what we see. Commenta-tors on Chaucer are quick to point out, however, that irony certainly does ex-ist here-that the Pardoner is a living lie, that he is a hypocrite committing those sins he preaches against-but the Pardoner is conscious of these incon-gruities. He is fully aware of his hypoc-risy-he knows that covetousness is both the theme of his sermon and the basis of his life. We might consequently be tempted to conclude that in having the man consciously reveal his hypoc-risy, in showing him make manifest the irony implicit within himself-that he is a Pardoner who is not morally fit to pardon-Chaucer is taking irony away from both the Pardoner and the situa-tion in the Canterbury Tales. It would seem that by having the man show what he is and that he knows what he is, the work gains in a shock effect but loses in dramatic irony. (p.262)

See? I can write alliterative verse too, (I'm not sad.) Anyways, apparently this pentangle sign idea is so important and interesting that Ross G. Arthur decided to write an entire book on it called "Medieval Sign Theory and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight", which I have now read in it's entirety due to the fact that I apparently have no life. Now whilst some of the terminology and signification theory was a bit out of my depth, it was a really interesting read. I was in fact looking for a book more about the significance of numbers in the poem, but this was equally as sufficient.

First of all we can start with the idea of the pentangle being applied to Gawain and the consequences of that application (basic I know, bear with me, it's a lot to wrap my head around). Morgan argues in his book Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and the Idea of Righteousness that the application is a simple form of 'syllogistic argument':

'1. Major Premise: the pentangle is a symbol of trawTe (625-26). 2. Minor Premise: Gawain is faythful, that is trwe (632). 3. Conclusion: therefore the pentangle befits Gawain (631).' (p.81)

This kind of Aristotellian argument may seem like overkill when it would be logical to assume that as the sign appears on Gawain's shield, it applies to him, but in a poem with such a penchant for ambiguity it helped me a lot to read the idea laid on the table simply and clearly like that.

Now whilst Arthur argues that the pentangle is a symbol of 'Truth' and 'Faith' (p.46) it is interesting to see Morgan's translation to 'righteousness'. (p.87) So to discuss this, I'll just pull up the OED:

FAITH, n

Belief, trust, confidence.

1. a. Confidence, reliance, trust (in the ability, goodness, etc., of a person; in the efficacy or worth of a thing; or in the truth of a statement or doctrine). Const. in, †of. In early use, only with reference to religious objects; this is still the prevalent application, and often colours the wider use.

[Also states it's of Old French origin, interestingly.]

RIGHTEOUSNESS, n

1. a. The state or quality of being righteous or just; conformity to the precepts of divine law or accepted standards of morality; uprightness, rectitude; virtue, integrity.

[And this one is apparently Germanic in origin, how fitting!]

In one idea, 'faith', we see the idea of Gawain being passive and trusting, faith does not need Gawain to outwardly show/do anything, however, 'righteousness' implies that Gawain is seen to be morally virtuous, just, divine etc. Do we think Gawain embodies righteousness or faith more in the poem? Or which label would be more applicable to his characterisation? I think they are both justifiable, but I prefer the faith/truth argument of Arthur, personally.

Therefore, I'm going to talk more about Arthur's arguments and what ideas I generated from him.

Arthur raises a few thought provoking ideas in his book that I wanted to raise and potentially expand upon, such as: 'what point could there be in teaching a fourteenth-century audience how to deal with large green men who die when decapitated?' (p.19) This rhetorical question highlights Arthur's argument about the Shield, Pentangle and Girdle and expands it to be applicable to the poem as a whole. The idea that there is no "realistic" or "naturalistic" or even logical reason to spend fifty+ lines talking about the pentangle and describing it, unless there is a larger meaning behind such an object. The story's plot has no value unless we search for the deeper meaning within this impossible and unfathomable plot.

Arthur continues his discussion of the 'impossible' when he says:

'When the Gawain poet gives the Green Knight the power to perform precisely this 'impossible' task, to come again to his own appearance after his head has been cut off, he marks this story as one in which we can expect other ordinary rules governing the world to be suspended'. (p.133)

In this manner then, we learn to suspend our disbelief and accept the inconceivable ideas displayed in the story to try and learn something from the world when the rules no longer apply, but what is the lesson? If Gawain is being tested using ideas and rules that are implausible and impossible, what do we learn from his failure? In my opinion I would argue that because Gawain, earlier displayed with the use of the Shield of Truth to be an exemplary individual we learn that it is impossible for Gawain to succeed, because he is not exemplary. None of us are.

Once again I find Gawain to be the "humanising" element within the Arthurian legends, (see my post about Gawain in Malory) when faced with rules that make no sense, that seem magical, divine or superior, Gawain is no match for them.

One would then counter my argument by saying that the manner in which Gawain fails is not inhuman: his failure lies in his reluctance to give away the "life-saving" girdle. However, there would be no need for the girdle, no need for Gawain's life to be saved if only the Green Knight had actually been mortal and killable. Ergo, Gawain's lack of faith for his deliverance lies in the fact that the game has changed, the rules are foreign and Gawain is left in a state of hopelessness.

He is lost in a realm of chaos within the poem, operating only so as to prolong his own survival.

And is that not the human condition? That we live in a fallen world, incapable of understanding the divine and the chaotic elements that encompass our entire world?

This idea is illustrated further by Arthur when he states:

’The Gawain poet brings the concept it signifies into a human and historical world, and so provokes an examination not only of the absolute truth it signifies but also of the complex relationship between that absolute and the relative, temporal world of human values.’ (p.48)

In this manner we are asked the question: where does humanity fit in a world that we do not understand, cannot comprehend and where we have relatively fleeting existences? Highly philosophical ideas being portrayed in something already so complicated in it’s structure and execution as an alliterative poem.

The poem therefore detracts Gawain's iconic status from earlier in the poem to prove over and over that he is human and he is fallible. Arthur makes a similar point when he states:

'The Truth with which we connect him is present in him only as faith, and even his faith is fragile and easily shattered. Reverence for such a man is not only incorrect; it is positively dangerous, since it can lead both to pride and to its mirror image, the despair of ever being whole again that Gawain displays at the end of the poem. From this point of view humanism is next to idolatry.' (p.151)

Since I previously argued that this poem is strictly religious in nature (see this post) it does not seem a massive leap to assume that the worshipping of false idols (Exodus 20:4-6) would be abhorrent to the poet and naturally he would strive to deconstruct this idea. Can we assume this of the entirety of Chivalric ideals? Does the poet intend to portray the ridiculousness of knight's quests for perfection and ideals? I think this is a fair interpretation to make.

Arthur also distinguishes between Truth and Faith earlier in the book: 'when it is attributed to God, it means Truth and when it is attributed to a man, it means faith'. (p.104) The faith which Gawain has is shattered, because he takes the girdle as a means to save his own neck (pun wholeheartedly intended) does this mean then that the Pentangle attributed to Gawain in the poem, which doesn't mean Truth, because Gawain is not divine, but now also couldn't possibly mean faith because his faith wavered? Can he no longer have such a sign? I don't think so. It is human nature for faith to waver, it is human nature to question and wonder and lose faith, the real question is does his faith return? I think that is extremely ambiguous.

I think that what is clear however is the sign of the Girdle being adopted by Arthur and his knights. We can choose to either accept this as the Gawain Poet’s recognition that all humans are infallible, even those who are meant to be revered and who represent the best qualities in humanity. Or he is satirising the idea of Chivalry and knightly behaviour, because the other knights laugh and don’t seem to comprehend why losing his faith was such a big deal. Perhaps (in conjunction with my earlier ideas) the Gawain Poet wishes to push the importance of religious chivalry into a dominant position over the more frivolous martial and courtly.

Unfortunately for me, I was wholeheartedly enjoying Sir Gawain and the Green Knight which makes it so much worse to read lines 2411-2428. The complete mistrust of women and condemnation of all women that seemingly appears from nowhere in this otherwise fantastic, wonderful, awesome poem is both shocking and disgusting. 

What confuses me the most is the fact that it appears anti-chivalrous, at least in terms of the three parts of chivalry: courtly, martial and religious. Throughout the poem we have seen repeated religious reference, whether to God, Mary or various Saints, which depicts this poem as heavily dependent on the third part listed above. However, we do see the courtly aspect come into play with the lady of the castle. (Is she ever actually named?) 

Although, of course, this is completely counteracted with the lord's revelation that he 'sende hir to asay þe'. Therefore the courtly love apparent within the middle section of the poem appears to be a lie and a product of a manipulative plan. It is possible we can blame Gawain's hurt pride and ego for the little misogynistic outburst, however it is hilarious how he fails to blame the lord for his part, since he explicitly states that it was 'he' who 'sende hir to asay þe', his wife was merely following his orders. The fact that then Gawain seems to extend his condemnation to multiple representatives of womanhood (mainly Biblical, which is an important point I'll come back to) further illustrates the unfairness of Gawain's speech. 

Instead of feeling completely miffed and deceived by such a well-seeming story, I will put my passions into understanding why. So once more returning to the three aspects of chivalrous behaviour, we at once can see that the martial aspect has been eliminated completely: Gawain does not battle nor fight nor even venture out of the castle for the majority of the poem, save for the meetings with the Green Knight, which I would hardly say fall under this category. Then we can safely say that the courtly aspect has been thrown under the theoretical bus with Gawain's new understanding that all women are not to be trusted of believed ('to luf hom wel, and leue hem not, a leude þat couþe') that courtly chivalry is not the primary element conveyed in this poem. 

Therefore we are left with religious chivalry, which seems obvious given the repeated reference to all things Christian, but is actually reinforced by what Gawain believes to be the cause of his sin and shame at the end of the poem: lack of faith. Armitage translates one of the final sections and reveals that for Gawain's 'loss of faith' was he 'physically defaced'. The idea of faith and belief within a religious and Christian context would have been highly important, in fact belief is arguably the only requirement for being a Christian, so Gawain's shameful confession is perhaps the final ingredient needed to propose 'Sir Gawain and the Green Knight' as a religious tale, didactic and morally correct.

Although, if you needed further convincing, I will explain to you further why I believe this: the subversion of the romance genre in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. As told by Professor Edwards in our lecture, the romance genres conventional expectations (generally) assume two main aspects will occur within the poem:

Violence Or male prowess. The knight's quest for achievement and validation, usually by murder of people or monsters.

Sex Or the reason behind the violence. Essentially the knight will be doing feats of strength or violent acts in order to acquire the woman/lady he loves.

Arguably there are other, more detailed, aspects of the romance genre, but even if we leave it at its most general we can see already that Sir Gawain and the Green Knight does not fully fulfil either of these requirements. 

There is a small amount of violence (Gawain cuts off the Green Knight's head), but not enough and not great enough to warrant this category. In fact, the lord comes closer to achieving more violence than Gawain himself does. 

Then, of course, there is a woman who Gawain proclaims to be true to... That is until it was all a lie and the lord confesses it was his plot in the first place. Here we see that it is the lord in fact who "gets the girl".

So the poem ends with the lord still married to his (presumably) faithful wife and commits more acts of violence and action. Given these revelations one could argue that the text in fact tells us that it is the lord's job and not the knight's to deal with the courtly and martial. Instead the Knight should be the one dealing with more holy matters.

Closely intertwined with this idea is the listing by Gawain of the Biblical characters who have succumbed to “feminine wiles” most notably Adam, Solomon and Samson. (Reminiscent of ‘The Merchant’s Tale’ and its description of Biblically deceptive women.) The fact that these anecdotes are lifting straight from Biblical stories further highlights and illustrates the importance of religion in this text. Not only is Gawain repentant for being fooled by a woman, he demonstrates that the Bible previously has warned him of the dangers of woman making his deception worse, because he forgot his religious teachings momentarily.

Morgan ('Medieval Misogyny and Gawain's Outburst against Women in "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight"') excuses Gawain based on some of the same ideas I earlier stated:

'Gawain is not in the first place offering a statement of universal feminine nature, but invoking the fact of his personal experience. He was deceived as a guest at Hautdesert and it was the young lady who was the immediate agent of deception and the ready instrument of his downfall. Only now does he realize the extent of her deception and the discovery is accompanied by shock and disillusionment. He is not the first man, and no doubt will not be the last, to be undermined by a woman he loves. In other words, his own experience, hard to credit in itself, is validated by the experience of others. It is only the very best of men who are vulnerable to women in this way. The point about Adam, Solomon, Samson, and David is precisely that they were the most excellent of men.' (p.277)

Since I really enjoyed the quotation:

Now þenk wel, sir Gawan, For woþe þat þou ne wonde, Þis auenture forto frayn, Þat þou hat3 tan on honde.

(As previously mentioned) I attempted to translate it myself to figure out what the content really meant (and in order to test myself to see how well I can read Middle English), in which my failing attempts gave me:

Now think well, sir Gawain, For danger that thou not be afraid, This adventure you go on is foreign, That thou have taken in your hand.

Now I think we can agree this is a pretty poor attempt at a translated version, considering there are so many Medievalists who have accomplished this task before me, I decided to find out what they had to say about this passage.

That was where I was stumped. Before I elaborate I'll display below the three different versions of this one section I encountered:

Armitage

'But mind your mood, Gawain, keep blacker thoughts at bay, or lose this lethal game you've promised you will play.'

Borroff

'Now take care, Sir Gawain, That your courage wax not cold, When you must turn again To your enterprise foretold.'

Vantuono

'Now think well, Sir Gawain, How this danger to withstand, For you truly must maintain What you have taken on hand.'

Now if that isn't confusing I don't know what is. I understand that these editions try to maintain the original format, structure and rhyme scheme for the poem, but as I am a poor reader of Middle English it leaves me a little bit lost as to what the original words mean. I think the last translation I've listed seems the closest and all of them have the same through-line in their translation: Sir Gawain is hesitant of his fate with the Green Knight. Perhaps my complaints are fruitless, however I think if a literal translation is unavailable, comparison is my next best bet.

I’m just going to make a quick post (20 pages into my reading) just to state that so far I think this is one of the most exciting readings we’ve had on the course. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve loved Chaucer forever and Arthurian legends are awesome, but Sir Gawain and the Green Knight has proven to be the most enthralling of the bunch so far.

I can’t really explain fully where my excitement lies, perhaps the supernatural element imposed on this text which has been lacking in the other readings, or maybe the fact that this poem has a clear protagonist making it easier to follow? I’m unsure. However I would like to point out that I think the rhyme scheme, pace and rhythm of this poem is beautiful, particularly:

Now þenk wel, sir Gawan, For woþe þat þou ne wonde, Þis auenture forto frayn, Þat þou hat3 tan on honde.

In present day writing the use of deus ex machina would be seen - arguably - as an anti-climax, as unrealistic, as ridiculous/improbable, however, Chaucer does not write for a 21st century audience. Acknowledging the context, however, we still do not understand why Chaucer uses this particular device, so we must once more look to the text.

In a text filled with mentions of ‘aventure’, ‘cas’ and ‘fortuna’ we begin to see a pattern emerging conveying a main theme of randomness and chance. However, when it comes to the discussion of these ‘gods’ it becomes something slightly more complicated. In contrast to Ancient Grecian texts’ use of the deus ex machina, these ‘gods’ do not respond out of their own independent natures. Jill Mann (‘Chance and destiny in Troilus and Criseyde and the Knight’s Tale’) states the reason for this:

'It is because Mars and Venus are planets, and not independent pagan deities […] both knights take care to make their pleas at the astrologically correct hour, when the planet's power is at its height, and response to human prayers follows according to the quasi-physical law of cause and effect. The importance of this is that we perceive that the planets act according to their nature, not according to their whims.' (p.107-108)

Taking this into consideration am I linguistically wrong to attribute the climax to godly intervention? To pure, unadulterated chance as would be the case in the traditional Greek plays. I think I am. Although deus ex machina no longer purely describes an intervention of a godly nature, so I am technically correct in my analysis, the fact that these characters are explicitly described as not gods changes the meaning of the text completely.

Something that became apparent to myself when reading 'The Knight's Tale' was that I had a little bit of a tough time remembering which Knight was which, particularly when trying to remember who saw Emelye first. This was such a distraction that I repeatedly had to re-read parts of the tale (not ideal when you're trying to read a 50 page poem) and it wasn't until one of them was granted freedom from the prison that I began to be able to distinguish them.

At first I took this as a sign of my failure to comprehend a poem written in ME, but when trying to find more secondary reading on the subject I was happy to discover I was not alone.  Hulbert ('What was the aim of Chaucer's the "Knight's Tale"?) also states this as a downfall of Chaucer's work: 'the greatest weakness in the Knight's tale is the lack of characterisation of the chief persons in the story.' (p.377) That was when I realised that Chaucer fails to adequately describe Emelye also, though I am still unclear of his reasoning for doing so.

Perhaps, as Hulbert argues, Chaucer equalises them merely to convey the question: what makes one person worthy of someones love? What is it that differentiates one man from another to be worthy of winning the lady? Ultimately in this tale 'Chaucer's conclusion that Palamon should get the lady because he had the sense to petition Venus rather than Mars for success' (p.381) is the only distinct difference between the men.

Is that enough? Do we believe that because one man prayed to a different God for help that he truly deserves the love of the woman he desires? Doesn't Emelye has a say in this? After all, she did pray to Diana for a life of virginity, but her feelings are not taken into account at all in this matter. Is the outcome really fair? Do we as reader's actually care about the outcome and the 'love' in the story?

When reading the last two parts of Le Morte D'Arthur as asked I found the character of Gawain to be extremely puzzling. I'm unsure why he particulary stood out to me, (especially since Lancelot seems to be the focal character in this section) but he did, so I decided to see if I could find any secondary reading focused solely on his character. As you can imagine I found a rather tiny portion of reading on this subject, or at least devoted specifically to this subject, but what I did find was (thankfully) very useful.

Barbara Gray Bartholomew's 'The Thematic Function of Malory's Gawain' revealed some ideas about Gawain worthy of my note, particularly the quotation (p.263):

'In many respects Gawain appears as a sort of embodiment of the Round Table and, by extension, of humanity.'

What most puzzled me about Gawain was his seemingly inconsistent and vengeful nature in the sections which I was asked to read, however, when placed in the context of this quotation I cannot help but be enthralled. It seems to me that by using Gawain to represent humanity, it is only fair that he represents everythingnot the idealas Malory is so focused on portraying, which is why Gawain has certain qualities which make him chivalrous and others less so.

In a story of an idealised nature, Gawain is a breath of fresh air for me. In the midst of the idealistic portrayal of a king, (Arthur) who brings Albion together and restores peace and properity to the land, coupled with the ideal knight (Lancelot), who embodies the courtly, martial and religious aspects of knighthood, Gawain is shown as a 'microcosm of the Round Table'. (p. 264) Gawain becomes a representation for the vast quantity of knights who Malory couldn't possibly give a voice to and then also the human qualities, which for the majority of the time Arthur and Lancelot lack.

When Arthur is told of Guenevere's betrayal he is very calm and composed giving his punishment. There is no time for lamentation, cursing or anger at this outcome for the King. Guenevere has broken the law and so must be punished. There is nothing emotional or irrational in this scene, merely a King doling out punishment to one of his subjects and nothing more.

Similarly, Lancelot's journey in the tale is marked by endless victory: he is described repeatedly with superlatives, that he is the best Knight, the greatest Knight etc. There seems to be no humanly qualities to slow him down. Even when he wins his love, Guenevere, his devotion to her life and wishes seems unending, until the day she dismisses him, which naturally he obeys.

I may be omitting certain details here, such as Arthur's inevitable misjudgement and downfall (creating Mordred possibly one of the worst on the list) and Lancelot's betrayal of his King. But of course, this is a tragedy, and in a tragedy an ideal can never be upheld for too long. That is why the ending of Le Morte D'Arthur is so tragic and inevitable.

The Knight's Tale ll.925-926

Something striked me as odd within the description of Emelye in 'The Knight's Tale'; the contrasting colours of red and white. These colours tend to signify completely different things when used - red: passion, love, hatred, anger, desire, or white: purity, cleaness, chastity - so seeing them combined seemed weird. She is described paradoxically as a lily and rose at the same time:

'That Emelye, that fairer was to sene, Than is the lilie upon his stalke grene, And fressher than the May with floures newe - For with the rose colour stroof hire hewe, I noot which was the fairer of hen two'.

Now since the rose is used to describe her 'hewe' (hue/complexion) and 'lilie' (lily) is used to describe her beauty, then perhaps it isn't quite as contrasting as I'd thought. After all they remain in the same semantic field and when coupled with the line 'fressher than the May with floures newe' we can begin to see a pattern here. It still doesn't stop me from questioning the coincidence of this when further down the page I see the reiteration of 'party whyte and rede'. It relates to the flowers Emelye is gathering and I cannot help but feel a small amount of foreshadowing in this.

Then later on in a small segment seemingly dedicated to describing Theseus' amphitheatre it depicts a 'wal, of alabastre whyt and reed coral'. It becomes obvious there is some deliberateness to each of these descriptions which becomes clearer, perhaps, when 'Diane' and 'Mars' are introduced. 

Theseus constructs three statues/temples to three different Gods:

Venus, the goddess of love.

Diane, the goddess of hunting, associated with the moon and chastity (wink, wink two things associated with whiteness).

Mars, the god of war, associated with the planet Mars and anger/rage (we get the picture now I think).

Now, at least, we understand what the repeated imagery of white vs. red seems to be referring to, however, we haven't quite understand why.That's when the arrival of Arcite and Palamoun accompanied by their armies comes in handy.

The easiest of the two is Arcite whose companion (Emetreus) is directly described as appearing like the god of war: 'cam ryding lyk the god of armes, Mars'. Coupled with the description of his colour as 'sangwyn' (or in other words, that he looked bright red), we begin to form a notion in our mind for what these gods and colours represent.

Then we take a little look at Palamoun's companion (Ligurge), whose description provides less clarity, but we can see plenty of hints: 'whyte boles' (bulls) and 'whyte alaunts' (wolfhounds), the colour of Diane. Then we have the physical description which uses words of a certain grouping: 'griffon', 'ravenes', 'beres'. Animals, some associated with predatory behaviour perhaps, but as Diane was seen to not only govern hunting, but also to hold dominion over animals, this description seems doubly fitting. 

When beginning my first reading of 'The Knight's Tale' in The Canterbury Tales, I noticed that it began by describing the relationship between Theseus and Hippolyta, which struck me as familiar for some odd reason. However, given they are mythological characters, of course they would sound familiar to myself. So I continue reading and notice that this tale encompasses a "love triangle" of sorts, with two men vying for one woman's affections. 

Now I begin to realise what struck me at the beginning of the tale. I was reading A Midsummer Night's Dream this week and, whilst obviously completely different genres/stories/periods, it is an eerily similar outline. 

I'm definitely not trying to draw a comparison, it is solely coincidental timing on my part, however I just thought it was rather fascinating. And of course, Chaucer and Shakespeare both used sources for their texts so naturally there would be potential for overlap - especially since Greek Mythology tends to be overused to say the least (cough, BBC Atlantis) - but I think it reiterates how certain stories and tales cycle through the ages, taking different forms perhaps, but always there. As is the case with the Arthurian legends (cough, BBC Merlin).