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Vater Symbo11sm in Medieval Poetry
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Water as A Symbol of "
Tputlscenùence and Henewal in MedievHl Poetry
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Thesis 3uhLQitt"d for the Degree of Naster of Arts ...
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Virginia. L. 1-lorell July 1973
Fueul ty of Kngliah Me Gill Univer8it~
(Ç) V1rg1n1a L. Morel1 1974 .. ' .. t ~_ ,-,i-!,~,(_t~>J r.'\..7 . ~
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Abétract
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, In medieval poetry, water-crossinés are used as a me,taphor
for the renewal 'of the s~lf, for sl~iritua.l regeneration. On
an arche typaI level water sywbolizeS the forces of bath death . . ,
and reb.lr~h in legenCls éUld ruytholüt;ies throughout the world.
This paradoxical nature of the "waters" received special ,
reinfarccment in Christian times ùue to the signlf~cance of the
bapt.lsrJ sacra.::lent. Christian dogma asserted that, in baptism a
man was ~Iepara teù' from his olù /;:Jelf when illiWersed in the waters,
and was 6.lven a new being when he emerged. This idea of being
sepÇiruted from Oll~'S known situation in order to receive a ne'W
wltlerstanùing, a new awareneBS of oneself and one' B vorld \o."as
not lÜ4i ted, in HeùievH.~ tiu.c:s, mere~y ta the baptismal font.
Throuch ecstasy, vüüon, and poetry can couJ.d sirllilarly effect
this trH.nscenùence ami rebirth • .,
In the followinG dlscus~don, l examine three poems from
the 12th and 13th centuries (Sir liawain ~ lli Green l\.nie~t,
1.u! de Gr:!elent, and Fearl) to show how the water symbolism
in the po/ms emphasizes the heroe' s apiri tuaI and moral
renewal. ~ed.leval soc.lety operàted according to three basic
ethic3..l systerls: the chivalric code, the courtly love code,
and Christian doema. Sir G~t\~ain !!!!.f!. the Green Knif:ht is
primarily concerned with VOW8 of kl'li&hthood, with the ques
tion of loyalty, and vith a ~'s love for his lite. The ~
de Gruelent examines the courtly love code and the fol1ies or-- 1
that result irom a knight'~ excesoive pride in his lady. In o <
the Pe:trl, the questions maye to a more cosmic °level ua the.
narrutor seeks an undérstnnding about man t a mo~tal1tYt man' 8
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relationship wi t)l his soul. and wl th his God. Dy contact wi th ~
a body of water, the protagon~st in tüese poer.:s moves to an
Othe~f~rldlY plane where his atteQpts at fulfilling his eiven
code 'are comr..-!..ired wi th the code' s ideal. And when the tensions ,
resul tint; trom the dinpari ty betW'een his ll.lortal actio'ns~d the
O'Ulerworldly standards are resolved, the hero la alw~ys found 1
b~oide the renewine water.
But the poets of these poems are not rnerely lnterested
in the spiritual needs of their heroes. Bach poem examines
a particular aspect of medieval society and invltes lts
audience to ùo likewise. ~
Thus .the poem in its entirety la ~ ,
device for effectine a renewal within the heart ahd mind of
its listener. , '
The water Bytâbolisra ,in the poens gives an added deI,th and , ,
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meanin& to the reoment of resolutlon~ and fWlctions as a structural
device :lointine to the cow.ine renewal. It 18 nt once a n:etaphor
for the protueonist's renewal, for the trànacendence medieval
poetry efl'ected on its audience, and for the creation of the
poems themselves •
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Dans la Doésie m~d1~v~le, lq trqvers~e de ~'e~u r~présente
mét;H'~oriouement un renou"e~u intérieur, une régénér?tlon
sp1rituelle. Au niveAu de l'Arctétvne, ~ trAvers les lé~endes
et les :nvtholo,Q:ies llnlverselles, l'e::>u symbolise ~ la fois la
mort et la ren:::tiss~nce. ' AIt époque de ln chrét1enté, cette
nature p~radoxale î:ies "em.Jx" reçoit un traitement snécü'll ~
p~rtir de la Signlfic~tion du spcrement du baptême. Le dogme
chréti en sout1 ent au' qU cours du bp'Dtême l' horrme perd éwec
l'immersion le "vIeil homne" aui était en lui, et émerge neuf.
Cette idée de sép<'lr'ation à partir d '.un étnt donné vers une
nouve]le comoréhenslon, une r.ouvelle prise de conscience de
soi et du Donde,'ne se borne pPS aux seuls effets des fonts .
baotismflux. ft. tr~vers l'ext?se, l~ vision et la poésie, " ' _l'
l'horr.me peut faire une expér1ence an<'llo~ue de cette transcen-1
dance et de cette renaiss~nce.
L'étude SUIvAnte exnrrine trois po~nes du XII~me et du
XI l l ~me sièc les (Sir G?w~ ln [lr,d the Green Knifrht, Lp i de
Graelent et Pe~rl) afIn de montrer comrr.ent le symbolisme
de l'eau sou11~ne, chez le héros, un renodvenu soirituel
et Tf1or~ 1. L::, société Méaiév::'l le fOJ:ctlorln~ i t se Ion trois
syst~mes moraux fond1mentnux: le code chevaleresque~ le
code de l'amour courtois et le dogme chrétien. Dflns Sir ~j \ -
GRwRin pn~ th~'Gr~en hnight, il s'Anit surtout des voeux
du ChevAlier, de SR loy~uté et de son amour de la vie.
Le ~i de Graelent exaMine le code de l'amour courtois et
• les folies qui résult.ent de ln fierté excessive que le
chevalier éprouve à l'éRnrd de sa dnme. DAns PeArl, la
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,0 question se sltue ~ un niveRu olus cosmiq~e dans IR me~ure
où le n~rrAteur cherche ~ sRisi~ la nnture de IR mortalit~,
le lien entre l' ~me et Dieu. /Ill contRct de l'eau, le
prot~~onlste de ces Do~mes entre dAns un Autre ~onae où ses
ef""orts ~ ré'lll.ser un code dor.né sorrt c0mDPrés :wec l' ldéAl
de ce code. CUé1r.d sont réso} ues l,es tenSlons subséauentes
À la dlsn~r]té entre ses RCtIOr.S en tant qu'~or~e ~ortel et .
les st,nd:-.ros de l'autre monde, on trouve toujours le héros
À proxlmit~ de.l'eRu rérrénératrice.
MAls les autpurs de ces poènes ne s'lntéressent pas ,
seulement AlIX besoihs sDlrituels de leurs héros. Chaque
poème eX~Mlne un 8SDect r~~tIculier de ln société m~di~v~le
et lrvlte l'AudItoire ~ fnlre de mêTe. ~insi le poème entiec
est l'OCCRSlOr. d'un renouveRU dAns le coeur et l'esrrit de
• l' auditeur.
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Le symbolisme de l'e8u dar.s les poè~es en approfondit
et en éclAircit le dénouement, et sert sur le plAn de la
structure à féllre pressentir la montée du renouveau. C'est,
~ lA fois une métanhore oui décr~t le renouveau du protA
F.oniste, aui SAisit l'effet tr~nscendpntal de IR ~oésie
JTÏédiévale sur}.' ::wdi toire, et qui souligne le processus
même de la cré~tion poétiaue.
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Table of Contents
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Challter 1.
Chapt,r II.
Chapter III.
Chapter IV.
Chapter V.
o Chapter VI.
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Introtiuction
The Concept e:f Sel'f-Aw;œeneaa
1. IntreQuctien
Ir. The Twe Worlùs
III. NeiievaJ. Atti"tude Tow~rci Self-Kuowledge
IV. Developwent of Censcieusnes8
Water-SymbolislI1
1. ~ater as an Archetype
II. Baptisil
lli G .... wain wnd .1!:.!.!!. Green Knit~ht
1. Introductien
II. The Journey
III. The Knight1:r Cocie :;mi Gawau'" Faul t
IV. The water and the Lessen ef the Otherwerli
L .. 1 ~ .. G,::.r.-éII.:.e::.l;;.e:.:;n.;;.t
1. Intred.uctien
II. Graelent'a Character
III. The FILiry's Enticewent
IV. The Be.st
" v. The Return Jeurney
VI. Th. Lea~en lI!
VII. Th. Feuntain and. the River
Pewrl
1. Iatreàuct1.n
II. The Peet'. Distre •• . III. Th. Vi.l ••
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IV. The D1alo~e
V. The Visien of Jerusalem
VI. The Pearl' s Lessen "'tltl the Poet.' 8 Lament
VII. ~ymbols of Regeneration:-The P •• t'. Renewal
Poetry ~n. W~ter-Symboliam
1. ~he Theme ef UênewloIl
Il. Poetry IoI.rat l-ietaphors of Transcentlence
III. Yater-ny~belis.
IV. Conclu.ien
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One of the str~klng features of much medieval poetry
1a i ts rOL.antic, often 'wistfu.l interest in th~ utherworlcl.
Through drewo, vision, ur enchantment t œ.edieval poets trans-
porteù tht::ir heroes I:mJ Q.ul1icnces out of the munùane into o
the fantast~c. 3uch, stor~es W'lti tales of heroes' visi ts "'to
myBterüms otherworlu:; are, of course, COŒL1on ~n r...ythologies
an<.1 leeenùs throughout the world. L3ut tne Chriy'fl.~ extenBion .1
of Flato' 3 iiorlti 01 Iaeàs ~n the' l:;iùtile .A'e~s c4used the
mediev~ls tu view tl!e~r life on this worl~ as ~ pilgrilr;age;
they were stl'ttntjers and. exiles ,qn e!:irth, wai ting to retum to o
o their true hOI.le· in heuven. This rather nost~glic view of the
Otherworld stir:lulated a. concern about the relationship bBtween'
the t1'.'O worlu!:l, about man's purpose in each, and about spiritual
self:"knowledge.
Passage into the Otherworld involves'a magico-mystical
enchantruent of the hero. Falling asleep and dre~ing, or
be1rt~ gr~ted a vis10n by Gad are cowwon techniques for intro-
ducing the protagonist into the otherworld. In the ?eerl,
the poet has sueh a dl'eaw-vision; but the separation of ,~~rth
and heaven 1s stresBed even further ",hen he encounters the l
barrier of the ~1ver of Life.
Forthy l thogt thut ?aradyoe aats ther ouer Cayn the bonkes brade. l hoped the water were a dcuyse ~ytwene royrthé"D by meres maCle; Bygondo the brokej • by slent8 .. !lther s1.ade, l hoped th:l.t mote ~erkcd were. J:3ut the water wutu I..lcpe, 1 dorst not ",ade, Ànù eu~r LlO 1.(l!l~eJ a:y more knl.1 more. (1.)
The use of a body'o! wuter as ~ barri~r betwe~n this wor1d
~. Pearl, IV, 11. ~3~- ~44, ad. X.V. Gordon.
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,and the Otherworld la a common motif in all llterature, and
the PeRrl poet'e obBerv~nce of thi. phenomenon i. a 8ign both "
trom a literary and from a psychological Btandpoint thaî' he.1s c r
about to unùergo so:rle type of transformation. In this paper
l propose to examine tpia use of water symbolism, aa,an obstacle 11 to-the Otherworld, and a. a sign of se1f-discovery, in the
, fol.lowine three .,poems: PeRrl, lli Gal·iain !!lli!. the Green Knight,
and 1& de Gr·,elent.
In each poew, the protagoniat aeta Lorth on a heroic
journey which esaentially fo110w8 the formula of the ~
~ pHsS_r~: separation, initiation, return. 2 • He p.a.e. into
an Otherworl~ that ia gepMrated from his homeland by a b~rrier
of water; within the Otherwor1d he diftcover. trutha about
himsel! and hi. gociety; he returnB to hia home bringing with
him hie new enlightenment. P.asing through or over the waters
thug becomes a metaphor for the renewâl of the 8elf, for the
renewal of mankind. ' o
- ,._ \liRtm a poet makea use of, .uch a univeraal Eymbol aa a
w.t~r-croaBing, he ia obv1ousl~ working with an image that ,
ha. been expre.~ive of one of man'. experiences throughout
the aees. Such univeraal symbol. ~~v~ come to be known aa
Archetypes •3 • But merely -relying on the torce tha t 13
2. J. Campbell, Hero ~ ! Thouaand F~cea, p. 30. See .1.0 Arnold van ~ennep, ~ Hites de Paaaae'.
,. Carl Jung definea krchetype. aa: "~orm. or imabea of • collective nature which occur practically aIl over the
. earth a~ constituent. of mythe .nd at~he eame time a. autochthonoua, individual proClucte oI~·uncou.ciou. origin." C.G. Jung, PaychologY ~ Religion, p.-63. l~orthrop Frye ex tended th!,. defini tioD ta 11 te rature 1n the following p4liaaage: " ••• archetype: that 18, a typical or recurring image. 1 mean by an &~h.type a .ymbol
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inherent in such an archetyp~ im.ge will do nothlng for the
poe~, 1f it does not somehow figure centrally w1thin the poem' • .
meaning and contexte When used io its full potent1al, an
archetype will l~unction as a "tone-setter" and "atructur».l.
device".4. This 18 precise1y the case with the water-aymbolisIJ
i-n the three poenB. For not onl.y does the metaphor express
aOLething .bout the enlightenment and transformation of the ~ -
hero, 1t also say~ Yomething about the poem as\a whole and,
l think, about the .ediev~l interest in transcendence. r
Historically, thia preoccupati~n with auch trwnscendence
and vith the Otherworld in general can be traced to a philo
ao~hic~1 despair with the mortality and decay of our world.
Chris~il~ belie! cOUDaeled man ~o keep his thoughta vith God
and the eternal; lUI a reaul. t much ot aedi.eval poetry has a
rather heavy didactic qual1ty. It ia not at al.l. uncommon for /'
a poem that seems light and jolly to ua (although a "trage~ye"
to its author) to end on an altogether so.ber and moral note.
-itneas the conclusipn of Chaucer'. Troilus ~ Criaeyde: . ~ .-
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o yonge, iresshe tolkes, he or ahe, In which that lov~ up groW'eth vi th youre age, Repeyreth hOM fro worldly vany te, And of youre herte up casteth the visage To thilke God that after hie yma~e Yow ~ade, and thynketh al nya but a ta1r~ Tnis world. that pseeth 800ne .... :t'~oure. :t'aire.
~l. 1835 - ~841 (5)
Wh1Ch connecta one poe. vith another and tbereby helpa to un1fy knd integra~e our literary experience." Frye, An_to~y 2! Criticism. p. 99. 1 will be ua1ng the ter. Bccording to Yrye'a def1nition.
H. Friedaan. "ImagerY'";Sin the jncycloped1. of foetrx end ~oetics, p. 363. . Chaucer, "~roilus and Or eyde," in .thI Work. o .2l Geoffrey C,mucer, ed. F. li. ltobinson.
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The medievale were extreruely conacious of the oppositon of
eternal hnd ~ortal tiILe, and their respective durations •
Perhapa this need to keep one'e u.ind attuncd to heavenly,
other~orldly affaira, ac~ounts in part for the amount of .
visionaJ.~y (:la terial f'ounu. ln the Niddle Ages. Dut wh~tev~r
the reason, there was a felt need in poet, hero, and audience . .
to transcend this world, tOl paas over into an Otherworld,
whether it be heaven or the l:lythical realm of fairyland. The
symbolic use of the watcr-cros:.üng in these poems la, l belicve,
expres~ive of this act of tra.'l'J.Gcendence, as well as of spiritual
rer'iewal, and becblllea, in essence, li metaphor for the poem itself.
It is through the poem that the lü;tener iB transported to the
Otherwo!'ld where he, too, le~rns the .lesson of the hero and la
renewed. 1he water-crossine is a literary device e~phaaizing •
the ùelllarcation betO<icen the two worlds, as well as actine as
a passage-way oetween them. ,SlmilarlY, the poeru, in ita
entirety, is an artistic anJ psychological device", functionlng
as the meù~ator for the audience between this conscioue world
and that "land beyond."
~ The three poe~a are from the 12th and 13th centuries and
reflect the Growing h~allisru. 6. ~he tendency toward complete
aaceticism that characterized the early Middl.e Ages was
beginning to Bive w~y to a concern for the role and position
of man in his own world. ln each of t~e poems ve vill Bee hoy
the protagonist ventures outs1ae of his knovn world to an
Otherworld where he receives a new unùerstnnding of h~self and
his society. The Otherworl.d 16 essentially a projection of
medieval standards Wld 1deals ngalnst wh1ch hero and society
6. Charlos H. !iaskins, Tb, Renais~wlc, ~ lht Twclfth Centuty.
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will be mCflsured. But thcse ideals of the Otherworld
wh~cJl the hcro' s "ctions ~re meRaureu, are ide&ls j. .. t to his CO!luuct and lite in tlll.H world. "
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l-ledieval society opérated, ta a large extent, according
to a sy~tew of etlù~al codes. The chl. vulric code d~ter.nl.ned
'Qne's actions on a socl.al é:U1d poll.tical l~vel; the courtly
love code eovt::rnt..u vehavior between the sexes; and ChriHtian
dogma (i'row which the other two codee stemmed) ruled the
relationship between man and Gad. Naturally, these codes
represented the highest ideals in rr.edl.eval. society, wi th the
rcligious one being at the ta!). But not aIl men could fulfill
the strict Christian requirments--so, for the more secular
souls, the regulations for knights and lovers were offered.
Whatever lifestyle chosen by u man would, of course, be affected
by all three standards, but he would oe especially judged hy
the code that he was specifically trying to practice. Perfecta-
bility in nny one area, let alone aIl three, was an impossi- (j
bility; but it was not unCOLunon for very virtuoue men ta become
prideful and 80 luse sight of this fact.· The poet1cç.l pro-1
jection of the societt's standHrus allowed the IUedie~al.s to
look R6R1n st their 1deals and to evaulate the1r own short-
comines.
The tale of Sir GHwain ~ .1t!.! Green Kn1R:ht ia, thus, .~
largely concerned w1th vovs of kn1ghthood, v1th the question
of loyal ty, and vi th a man' s love for his lite. The Lai Ù
Graelent examines the courtly love code and the to1l1eo that
result from ü kniCht's excessive' pride in his lady. In the
Pearl, the questions move to a more cosmic level as the
narrator seeks an underatandin6 about man's mortal1ty, man's
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relat1onsh1p v1th hie soul and v1th h1s God. They are secular
poems written for secular auaiences which vere in search of
a deeper awareness about the values and 1deals of their
society. These values and 1deals are posited, in the poems, '-'
in thut extethal Otherwo~ld; and man's attempt to live up to
their requirewents 1s se~n in the struggle,of each protagoniste
The poems, in affect, offer the audience a means to participate
in th1s struggle and search for the understand1ng and fulf11l
ment of those 1deals.
As l have noted before, the result of the quest for both
haro and audience 1s some type of spiritual reneval and trans-
formation. hy transcend~g this world, hero and audience are
able to project themselves into an external vorld vith which
they can compare and contrast themselves and so come to a
deeper understanding of their own nature. ihis transoendence
and renewal is effected and emphasized in the poems through
the water-symbolism.
Water-aymbolism, then, within the context of the three
poems, fulfi~ls the follow1ng functions:
1) It s1mUltaneously represeht. a barrier, a passageway,
and a mediating force between this worlà and the Other
wor1d.
2) It acte as a metaphor for sp1.r:Ltual reneval.
3) It acts as a metaphor tor the creMt10n of poetry; as
a metaphor for the transoendence med1e.al. poetry ettected
on 1ts audience.
Betore turning directly to the poama t l tb.1nk 1 t would b.
he1ptul to examine medieval and modern thaoX,'ias .. of self-
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aw~reneaa andrconaciouenesB, in order to see what type ot li \
spirituül renewal a hero, poet or liàtener would deslre and
need., ~he tnird chapter will be devoted to an examlnation of .
the povera that have been attributed to water, by anclents
and Christiane alike, so as to determine lts force as an " .
archetype and its versatility as a symbole The poema will
then be discusùed to discover the use of the symbol in each:
and to see what type of transformation the hero experlencea.
Finally, l will turn to the idea of water ae a metaphor for
, the creation of poetry, an~ its encorupas6ing tunction aa a
!.iterary devlce •
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Chapter II The Concept of Self-Awnreness
1. Introduction
In the preceding chapter, 1 mentioned briefly that the
medieval intere~t in the Otherworld atemmed in ~arge part
frOIQ the Christian contempt ot this world. This chapter will
present a short and necessarily generalized overview of th~
development of this philosophy in ~estern thought. 1 will
then proceed to show how this contrast between the tvo worlda ,
gave ~edieval man a broauer understanding about himself and
his world. This will involve soma exploration into medieval
attitudes toward sclf-knowledge, and m9~ern theories concerning
the development of human consciousness, but vill in the end be
helpful in und~rstanQing the type of spiritual enlightenment
a medieval hero wculd have sought •
II. The Tvo aorlds
The èonception,of tvo worlds, one materi&! and unstable,
the other spiritual Hnd constant, vas firet developed, in
Western thought, by the Greeks. Beg1nn1ng vith Heraclitus,
Greek philosophers deplored the transitoriness of man and a1l
earthly_things. Plato carr1ed this d1s1llusionment vith the
ephemeral one step further, by declaring that the material ~
vorld vas not the 'real' vorld, that the vorld o~ the aind,
the vorld ot ideas, vaa the true one, and the One tor vh1ch
all men ahould atrive. He atressed the bellet iD 1mmorta1it1
tor that soul whi,ph abatained trOll contact vith earthly,
.en8UOU8 matter. When the body diea, the eoul·i. at long
laat'set iree trom the contaatnation ot tl.ah and'vorld al1ke.-
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" departs t~ that place, which is. 11ke ltself, invisible, divine, 1Œmortal, and wise, where ~n its arrival, happines~ awaits it~ and release trom uncertainty and folly, from the fear~ and uncontrolled'dcsirea,' and all o~her human svila, and, where •• J.it really apenda the rest of tirne vith God., (7~ c
This, distinction between a sensual, transitor,y world and 1
a spiritual, permanent.world was not conceived of in Sirnply
abstract terms. Aristotle extended the notion of the two
worlds, one stabl~ the other unstable, to the whole physic~
universe. ln hia system, the univerae vas pictured as a ,.. i)o
h1erarchy of stars and planets, with the permanent,~ixed' ,
stars far above the earth. As one moved closer and closer to
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our world, things began to slip out of place, ~o move, to change,
to decay. And as the moon vas the sw1ftest moving of all the
stars, it followed that everything belov its aphere would be
extremely ephemeral'and tranaitory.
After the Ethereal and Divine Element, wh1ch va have. shown to be governed by fixed lava and to be, moreover, rree from disturbnnce, change, and external influ~nce, there ·followa immedintely an element which'is subject throughout to external. influence and disturbance and 1a, in a word, corruptible and periahable. (8) ,\
It 18 in this element that the earth res1des; W1th our planet
thus nea~ly shoved to the bottom ot th1s h1erarch1cal scheme,
and so especially g1ven to rot and decay, 1t VaS natural that
the goodnes8 of. the Otherworld, where a1l vas constant and
immobile, should be emphas1zed. -
Christian tbought, both.B1blical and Patrist1c, added
to tbis general de.pair ov.r the mutablity ot the earth vith
8.
Plato,~T1maeu8,' f81. 1n !hl Co1leeS.d Di .. OBU" s( Plato; .d. B. Hamilton and H. Cairns. , !ri.totle, "De Mundo,· '3921.. iD·DIa York • .2t Ar1BtOtl., tr. B.S. Porater and ad. W.D. Koes. ~
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its doctrines conce~~g creation, immortality, sin, and
death. ~he concept of an absolute beginning of the earth and
of all living creatures produced a heightened'awareness of the
meani.ng and purpose of time. Tiro. vas no longer concei ved 'of .
in cyclieül terms RS it had been in mythical and classieal
thOUbht.9. Rather, it vas seen as moving in a str~ight path,
following the prescribed route wh1ch Goè~,had set !orth. This '; .
divine plan, established by Gad at creation, was to be worked
out il man in h1story. Such a ph1~osophy gave man a ne" sense
of purpose and responsib1lity. His time on earth-came to be . . seen as a trial; lite vas a pilgrimage, and men vere strangere,
exi~es on thls earth, working their vay back to their real
vorld, to their real home.
Life had a beginning and an end: it vas in fact a pilgrimage toward an eternal ùurat1on. It vas th1s eternal duration ceaselessly huunting the medieval consciousness that made the temporal duration always seem vain 'and trunsitory. The tvo durations vere alwaye counterpoiaed in the J-.'edi.val. mind. (JO)
The ?~atonic belief that the soul which absta1~ed from
earthly matter would find 1ts true home iD the world beyond
vas strengthened by the Christian beliet in tmmorta1ity a~ ,"
vell as the conception of sin. The morta! condition vh1c,h
men sutfered and deplored resulted. of courae, from the Fa11:
death vas mants punishlDent for tbat tirat ain.' Immortality
and lite in heH.ven coul.d only b. attained by truet1ng iD the
cODstancy and goodness of the n.xi ~orld, and by knowing th!.
vo~ld for what it la. Tbe man vho kept hi. mind on neavenly
concerna. who l1ved moderately on earib, endur1Ag the nee4 •
9. 10.
Se. Mircea Eliade, C08m08 JDà Biatorr. p. 56 tt~ Jospeh tlogan, Chaucer .IDSi lbJ. Th'.' S2l. ttutabilttr. p. '5.
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of the flesh, but not overly enjoying them, would receive the
bleseings of heaven and immortality.
Whether or not a man eoulu actually follow the etrict
dictates of Christian doctrine anù abstain from wordly entice
ments was a highly debatkbl~ matter and a cause of concern to .. poet and theologian alike. For aven if a man tried his utmost ,
<}4
to 1mitate Christ, he would always be flawed by his inconstant,
mortal nature. The imp.rfec~ability of the world and man
produced a sadness and contempt for worldly things becauee they j
are limited, and because man's goals, heaven and the life
eternal, lie beyond those limitations. As a result, it 1s not
une omm on ta find authors echaing the curses and despa1r of
Innocent III' s R!. Cantemptu "lundi. But,' while some med1eva1s , condemned every aspect of life on thie earth, others chobe.not
ta dwell so much on the negative as to discover a meaning in
lite irom the contrast af and the relat1anship between the' .
monal and immortal. From the juxtaposition of a mam'e highest
ideals and goals, and his own mortality and limitations, medieval
man vas able to come ta an understanding and acceptance of h1s
own nature and of h1s role in both worlds.
III. l-ledieval Attitude toward Self-Knowlgdge .
ln one of his many homil1es, Or1gen vr1tes:
Yet because 1t 1a careless about sel!-knowledge, about enquiring what 1t le, wh~t it should do and how, and what le~ve undone, to th1a soul 1t i8 aaid, Go thy way forth, like one aent forth by th. master for th18 fault of~81oth. Sa great a danger 18 it for the BOu! to neglect the knovledge and underatamdiDg of 1ts.l.f. (ll)
11. Origenes, "Speoulat1çna and iDquir1 •• ," lLUV. 111 Select~on8 lI2!!! l!l!l Qommentazjtee .!mS. Homille. st Origen, tr. R.B. ~oll1ntoD, p. 197.
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Why doeo Origen see the neglect of su ch self-knowledge as a
"ereat daneer", and what, exactly, doea the phrase "self-
knowleùge" r...ean to him and to the Hedieval Christiun tradition?
Perhaps li little liGht can be thrown on both questions by
quotinb a!lother Patristic, this tillie Clefl.en,t of Alexand.ria: o
~hereforo, as i t see11S, i t is the greatest of all disci nllnes to knoirl oneself; for when a liu:m Knows hir::.seif t he knows God. (12 )
~elf-knowledge, then, leads to knowledge of God, and, as we ..
have seen, it is the man whose mind is with God ){ho achieves
a place in He~ven.
Coming to ter~s with oneself, and thus with one's God,
was, in the i liddle AGes, a procedural affair invol ving defini te
"stepo". As with their handling of the sciences and arts, the
Iueùievnls treated the I&atter of "Helf-discovcry" in precise
catceorical terr!.s. Thuo, ~t. AU,6Ustine iri his .Qn ChriBtian
Doctrine, relates the seven necessary steps to wisdo@:
••• t1rot, fear; secon(l, piety, thirù, kno~ledge: fourth, rcsol.ution; fifth, cowl:3el; sixth, purification of heart; ~eventh, w~ouow. (13)
He then i~oes on to discuss the feelings and emotions which
accOILp8ny cnch stage, and how each new ineredient propels the
soul further alone this journey. The initial. four steps in
3t. Auguotine's forw~a remove the soul from its involvement
w1th carthly matter--which is, as wa luI.va seen, the major
12. Cle~ent of Alexandria, "Paadagogus," III, l, in The 'IIritine;s 21. Cleu.ent !2.! êlexandria, tr. William Wilson.
13. St. Augustine, QG Christian poctrine, Book.II, ~hapter 7, tr. J.F. Shaw •
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requirement >~or a man inter.sted in attaining salvation •
It ia necessary. th.n, that each ~ should first of all find in the Scrintures that he, through being entangled in the love of this world--i.e., _of temporal thinga--has been drawn far Qway from such a love for God and such a love for his nei'ghbor as t3cripture enJoins. Then that fear( which le.da hirn to think of the judgment of God, and that piety which gives' him no option but to believe in and sub~i t ta the authori ty of ~cripture, cow}Jel him to bewail his condition. ~or the knowledge of a goou hope makes ~ man not boa::stful, but sorrowful. And in this frame of mind he implores with unremitting prayers the èomfort of the Divine help that he may not be overwhelmea in despair, and sa he grauually cames to the fourth step--that is, strength éa.IlÙ resolution--~n which he hungers .mû thirsts after rit;hteousness. }'or in this frame of mind he extricates himaelf from every form of fatal joy in traneitory things, and turning ~way from these, fixes his affection on things etern~, to wit, the unchangeable Tr1nity in' uni ty • ( 14 )
Th. final. thr.e stepa lead to a complete severance vith earthly
concerna, a renewal in n:.an' s lov,e for God, n.ighbor, and .nemy,
and th. soul ia illumincd with divine light. The procedure is
essentially a myS\!cal one, culm1nating in an eeatatic vision ,.
of the Godhead.
The central factor in this mystical experlenc. ls the
separation of the soul from earthly matters. Aside fram the
philosophie al reasons which viewed temporal things as evil
becauae given ~o rot ~d decMY, such a separation vas impo~
tant to Christians OD tvo add1t10nal points.. One 1s that if
a man 'a interest la ln vorl.dly gooda rataer the in God, h. wUl
necessarily be gu1lty of pridetu1 acta. Pr1de vas aeen as th.
vorst sin becaua. 1t involvea worahlpping another object in
plac. of God--vhieh ls. of course, vhat const1tuted the s1n
of Luc1ter lUI vell as that of Adam •
14. S'k Auguatin., llWi., Book II, Ch. 'l. 110.'
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Our first parents fell into open diaobedience because already they were secretly corrupted; for the evil act h.d never been done h~d not an evil will preceded it. And what is th~ origin of evil will but priae. For 'pride ls the beginning of sin.'" (15)
The other factor hinges on a s'aying of Jesus:
For whosoever wil.l Bave his life shùl lOBe i't; and whosoever will 10se his life for my sake ehal1 find it. For what ia _ m~n profited. if he eh~l eain the wh01e ,wor1d and lose his mm soul? (16)
St • .Augustine equates this "losing" with dying; but it ie a
materi.l lOBS, a materlal death that bringe on a spiritual \
rebirth, and a deeper understanding of God. when applled to
the journey to wisdom, th&! man who haB "lost" his life in
this world, la granted the il1umin~ting vision •
••• fUll or hopes and unbroken in strenrth, he mounts to the sixth step. in which he purifies the eye itself which can see Gcd, 80 far as Goa can be scen by those who as far as possible die to this world. For men see him just so far as they die to this worlui ~d so far as they live to it they see H1m note (17) ~
"See1ng", ot cours1Y, implies knowing. By dying to the
material. world, a man can be aS8uxed of being reeurrect.d
apiri tually by God and of thu8 coming ta an underetanding and
acceptance of hie ~ortal condition, as well aB achieving a ~
greater ~vareneBS of his Gad. ,
In discuesing Abraham's vision of God, Gregory Qi Nyssa
vrites:
15. 16. '17.
By going out of his native land, that la, out of himse1f. out of the realm of the bas. and earthly, Abraham rMised his m1nd as far as possible ~bove the common limita of our human natur •••• And so, after this .cstasy came upon him MS a reaul.t ot these lofty visions,
St. Augustine, .Çi,tt R.t. i9!l, tr. Harcua Dods. p. -10. Matthew 16: 25, 26.
(,
St. Augustine, On Christian Doctrine, Book II, Ch. 7, 110, tr. J.F. SGav.
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Abrah~ returned once more to his human frallty: l am, he :.dmits, duat and ashes, mute, inert, incapable of explaining rationally the Godhead that my mind h~U5 seen ••• (18) , . ,
Again it is the ecstasy that is ~mphasized. In order to
atta~ understanding ~f self and God, the spirit MUst riae
up out of its body, the man must go "out of hilOself." Av
siwilar experience ia recorùed by St. Bonaventure concerning
St. Francis:
This waa shawn likewise to blessed Francis on the height of the mountain ••• when, in a rapture of contemplation, he had the vision of the six-winged ~eraph attached to a cross ••• There, carried out of himself, he passed over to God, becoming a mouel of that perfect contempl~tion ••• so that, in this way and through him, God might invite all. truly spiritual men, rather by exampl.e than by word, ta the same p~s,ing ovar ~d the eama raviehment of soule (19)
Ecatasy reoul.ts in the passing out of and rieing ab~e oneself \~~,
that brings th. dlscovery of sel.f and God. t;!,,: -'l'he kn-owledge which ç~eB from the ecetatic 0 vi-sioll 1e
alwaye portrayed as a caming uf light. as an ill.umination.
This i5 àerived from the Biblical axmbolism which associatee >II
the divine w1th l1ght, and which representa Jesus as the "light
of,) the worl.d." Throughout the Bibl.e, spiritual. knov1edge le
th~ connected with light:
But all these things tbat'are reproved are'made manifeat by the 1ight; for whatsoever dath muke·manlfest 1s light •. ~herefore h, saith, Awake thou that sl.eepest and arise from the dead, and Christ shall.' give thee. 11ght. (20)
Again ve have the eymbolism of the man t1ed to the wrld and
unaware of God as a sleeping or dead soule Knovledge of " Christ bringe a 8pr1tufoÙ. renevaI. an en11ghtenment. St.
18 •
19.
20.
r, . Gregory of Nyssa," "~a1n8t Bunom1ua,- 112, in From Glqrx 12 G10ty. Jean Daniélou, p. 35. St. Bonkvenure, "Itinerarium Mentis Deum," Ch. 7~ ". iD The Worka 2! llonaventur.,. tr. Jose de Vinck, vol l, p. 56. Bphes1ane 5: 13. 14.
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Augustine views this illumination as .'ssent1al.ly a psychological
proces&rvhich begins vith a deeire for the "h1gher light"
vi thin the ''understanc1ing tl of the s'oul..
)
Thus in our soul there ls a BOlliethin~ called the understanding. ~hia something of the 8Vul w~eh 18 called underst.nding and ro~nd 1a enlightened by the hieher light. I~ow tha t h~bher l1~ht, by which the humàn l1eht 1s enli6httned, is God; for tth~t Was the true li~ht whieh enlightenetl'i every m~n com~ng iuto this world. (21)
From a th~1ogical standpoint, then,.se1f-know1edge in
th,. Middle Ages vas ba~ically an avareness /
/
existing betwep.n the mortal and immortal. (,
produced an enl1ghtenment, a spiritual reneval. "
beckU3e l have examined only theo1ogians' etatements about
self-know1edge, the .emphasis op asceticism Woa a necessary
prerequisite h.s been ver~ereat. l d~ not com~etely agree
vith those cri tics who see medieva1 secu1ar poetr~ as being a
mere extension of theolog1cal doctrine. But l do believe that
there vere certain bel1efs and assumpti@ns common to Roet and . ,
churchman ~ike that colored their respective expresoious in
,much the same vay. One of these beliefs i8 that men could and
did have spiritual experiences involving ecstasies and'v1sione,
and that these experiences followedJa defin1te pattern. The C,.
theological formula for self-knovledge requires a man to sever
himsel! from his known w~rld, and to embark on a spiritual
journey to a higher,
applied equally will
otherworldly reillm. But tb,1s CG b. " , "
to the poetical hero in search of an
understanding about him.el! and his society. Th. important
thing 18 that 1t 18 olLly by •• ans of tranaced.nce. of "paeS1ngl
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21. St.' Augustine, Tract.te, 2B !hl Ggspel Accord1ng 12 ~ ~, tr. Marcua ~od.'vvol. l, p. 219.
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out of onesel!," that th. spiritual or poetical experience 1s
achieved. This does of course, parkllel the pattern of the
, ~ gy p~s3~6e which i8, l bel1eve, expressive of on~ of
man' B psychological experiences "'in all times .... nd plac~e. In
primitive societies Buèh r1tes ~re primarily aoncerned w1th
the phy~~cal changes -of puberty, but they also celebrate
changes wi thin tPe mit1ate' B psychological and ~p1ritual -. . .
n~tur~. As Bliade points out, th1s ritu~l denotes for both
the initiate ~d tribe a "rite of passaee from the profane to \.
the sacred, from the ephemeral to reality and eternity, from
death to life, from man to the d1vinity." 22. And th1s " passage 1B, as we have eeen, exactly what the mod1evalB
experienced in their visions. - ( l
, Uaturally, not a1l medieval men were sa~ts and monks,
. . and so coul:..! not achieve a spir1 tual ful.fiJ.J.ment thrOU{,h suah
v1sions. More secular men, thoae who could not effect a
co~plete a~ic break vith thi8 world, had 'to ,ely on the
visions of others. ~'-
~t through -the poet and his poetry, men
., could bre.1ê their bonde ri th the earth Illld plUIe ovar te that , ,<
otherw~ly realm and 80 haV1' an experÎltnce aimllar to the .
ecstatio vislon~ AS,Pleh.1er notes, medievM1 visionary .
allegorles are "off,red ta their readera for spiritual partici-o
patlo~, 80 that in undergaing the ~ag~ative experience of
the vision they may avail themae1vea of the sam. procee. ot
healing, and transcendenoe. M'2,.
. 22. Miree. Bliad.,' COSMOS ana Histop~ p. 6 •
23. Paul P1eh1er, ~ Vieionary LanglcMPe, pp. 4.5.
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III. Development of Consciousnes8
Current theor1ea concerning the development of human
consciousneas, while still in a state of flux, have settled
on one or two fundwnentals that will, l think, malte the mediev:.ù.
attitude toward self-knowledge somewhkt clearer. One of these
fundamentals has to do with the abil1ty to d1acern and create
~pposites, to differentiate, to pos1t value judgments. In
his Philosophv of Symbolic Forms, Cass1rer writes:
In the sphere of pure knowledge ••• progresa consists above all in the d1fferentiation of the principle of knowledge trom its content, of the knower trom the known; but mythical consciousness and religious feeling embrace a still more f'undamentaJ. contrast. liera the l is oriented not lmmed~~tely tow.rd the outs1de world but rather toward a personal existence and lite that are aimLlar ta it in kind. Subject1vity has ao 1~s~correlate not some outw~rd th1ng but réllther a "thou" or "he", from which on the one hand 1 t diatinl;uishea i tself, but wi th which on the other hand i t groups 1 taelf. <..> This thou or he fOrIlls the true antithesia which the 1 requires in order to find and define itself. (24)
If, in Cass1rer's terms, the medievals posited the1r "thou"
1n the Otherworld, then how does thi8 ~ffect their under
standing and knowledge U of thelDselves; and what type ot
spiritual syntheBis will they cull trom the dichotomy of
heaven and e~th?
We have alrew.dy seen from the examinat:l:on of vhat 8elt
lmowledge meut to vlU"ioua ~heolog1ans that auch knovledge ,
could only be attained b~ vork1Dg Kct1vely to ach1eve an
underetanding of God. The earth 1a th'. d:1rect opposite of
he»ven, jU8t a •. ~ 18 the opposite of God, and it 1& by.meana
ot auch separate and distinct oppoaltes that • kaovle~ of
- . Bmat Oaaairer, Rhilo,opbx.2t Symb0111 Poms, vol.. 2. MYthical T?ought, tr. R.lMaihet.. p. 75. . . "
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••• t'his act of cognition, of conscioue discrimination, sunders the world into opposites, for exper1ence of the world 1s only possible through oppos1tes. (25)
So, trom a psychologickl standpoint, man needs to create an
outer, objective realm with which he can compare, contrast
and combine hiwself in order to come to terms vith his own
nature. The Otherworld acts as this outer, objective realm
for the medievals. As we have seen, the world and the Other
vorld do not re~ain completely set apart and d~st1nct from one
another: man h~8 visions, he transcenda his body and walke • "
vith God; likewise, God takes the physical form ot man, travels
over this earth, and exper1ences man's death.
The in ward ~d outw~rd do not stand side by side, each a8 a sep.rate province; each, rather 1a reflected iri the other, and only in this reciprocal reflection doea eacb disclose its own meaning. (26)
Âccording to the Bible, man WKS cre.ted in God's image; but
at the same time, God èan ollly be understood as a i.':lect10n
of man. It la a dynamlc relatlonshlp, requiring an inter--1
active participation on both leve~s. Man can only come to
terme with his spiritual and moral selt by projecting lt
outs1de himself; by creating a Gad that object~fie8 hie 1
abstrac~ thoughts.
In the J.liddle,.,Agee, this objectif1ed God repreeented
certain standards tbat min vere aupposed to 1m1tate. Christian
doctrine, ot course, held w1tbiD it the bigheat of theae id.ale.
But the med1eval. hierarchic:.ù lIense al80 ailowed 1ees dellUUldiag
Ittandw.rdll tor more secuiu .en; 1 ••• , the chival.r10 ad court17
25. Bric von HeulDluln. l!!! Origin8 !!!!l Hiatory 9.! Consciouan.,e,. p. 104.
26. B. Cassirer, Philo8oPhy 2!. SY!Dbo1ig Porma, Y01. 2. IIDh1cll. Thouét , tr. k. AlIUlheta, p. 99. ~
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~ove codes. 27. If a man could not completely follow Chriat~8 ~
example of roater!a1 poverty and chastity, at least he could be
courteous and noble in his actions to others. The virtues,
then, that vere e~ected of kn1ghta and lovera were based on '1 {
Christian ide;ù's, sa that a strong moral ~nd ethical sense ran
throughout the society.
Hy creàting an Otherworld that vas equivalent vith the
Good, and /then holding this Otherworld UR, as Il model for man,
the medievals vere able ta externalize theae values, and so
mea.sure themselvea agamst them.
1>ver and over again we thus find conîirmation of the tact that man Carl apprehend and know h.l.s own being on1.y insofar as he can make it visible·in the 1~e of his gode. Just , . as he learns ta understiUld the structure of hie body and limbs only by becoc1ng a cre.tor 01 tools an~ products, 80 he uraws ~ro~ h~s spiritual creat1ons--langu_ge, myth, and art--the objective standards by which to me~sure himaelf IoIlld leôtrn to understand himseJ.t as an ina.ependent cosmos vith its peculiar structur~ 1~w8. (28)
~h. creation of a social order, of eth1c~ stannards and moral
values rèquires (psychologic~~y) the e~taneous creation
and acknowledgement of a higher realm--one that 18 perfèct .,.
becal1se of its 8wstained order and inherent Goodnes8, and one ,\
that tully embod1es these 1deals. Whou ve examine the poeUle,
ve shall see that whatever Otherworld 18 set forth, 1t repre
.enta the Istandardj1n the poem aga1nst wh1ch haro and. l.1stener
will b. aeasured..
At the begtnn1ng ot th1~ section, l atateà ,bat modern
~heories of con8ciouan ••• hkd e8t~b~h.d tvo tun~tala
that pertained to the madieval conception of aalf~knQvledga • ..
27. S.a D.R. Hovard. :rhe 'l'b"t Tellptat1onl, p. 9' aDCl 219.
28. B. Cas.1rer, Eb11oeopb;l Rl. SYmbo11c lors., 'YOl.. 24 ltrtb1cal ,.hght. tr. li • .l-lanhe1JA. p. ~9.
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,The f1rat, wh1ch we çhave Just ,discussed, la essent1ally that
man must create an Otherworld Ba that he can objectif y the
spiritual and moral part of himself ~d so arrive at a greater
understanàing of his ideals and hls oWD'limitatlons. The
second fund~enta1 h~s ta do with the idea of illumination.
As we have seen, whenever medieval theoloGlans discus8ed a man's
knowledgt! of God, they did so in terms of a "light" metaphor.
God 18 light; He enlightens, illumines mwn's soult so that it
shines with an inner radiance. This 1a directly related to
the concept of oppositea which ve have Just diacussed. In order
for man to arrive at self-knowledge. to develop a consciousness
of hie "1", then it ls first necessary that he divlde the
world, that he break 1t up !nto opposltes. One of the most
m~,tural oppositions which he rirst perceives ia that betveen
day and n1ght, betveen the light and the dark. Ali an arche
type, light becomes assoclated with knowlèdge and avarenesa; /
dark wlth ignorance and unconsciousneas •
••• in the creation legends of ne~ly all peoplea and religions the process of creation mergea vith the davning of l1ght ••• The victory of the ~1ght ia the origin of the world and the world order. (29) ,
The enlightenment, then, to~hich the theologiane refer. ia
an arche~ypal and psychological metaphor acknovledging maD'a , ,
• riae to a higher lev el of cOftaciOUane8a. o~ .elt-kDo~ledg ••
L1ght ia a1waya a8sociated vith the Divine and vith the Divine'. l"""' •
emi8sariea. whether god or morta1 hero. Ir1 the poema, the
vater-aymbol18m, through lta attachmut vith the baptlemal:
aacrament wh1ch w1~ be .di8cua~ed 1ft ~he folloviDg chaptar
'18 expressive ot tbe: Ul.wa1Jaation hero aracl audienoe reo.ive.
Di.sl,., p. 96. '"
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The protagonistes rite ~ p~asQg, will bring him to a nev
awarenesa about h1maelt and th1s avarenesa will be termed an
enlightenment. . -In thia sequence of danger, battl~, and victory, the llght-whose siplif1cance for consc1ouaness ve have repe:...tedly stresaed--i,,!\ the centr~l symbol of the hero' s re~li ty. The hero is always k l~eht-bringer and emis8~ry of tbe 11ght • <:~O) '1
In the poema then, ve will Bee the protagoniete embark on
a rite d~ naBsaee to an Otherworld; this rite will involve a
apiritual transcendance. ~he Otherworld, will be representative
of projected standards by which the hero will be measured. " When he ach1eves an understanding of theae standards he will
s1multaneously reacb a further understanding of his own human •
nature, and thls will be seen aa aD illumination. Once again,
1t ia the water-aymbolism.that helps to emphasize th1s process, l"
and, in fa-ct. Ilcta aS a metaphor for the tralHlce1tde11ee ad ~ \
enllghtenment hero aDd audienc~,attai •• -,
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----~.~l~' -- ) 30. Bric VOIl NeWlMnn, %h!. Orlg1n. !1!!f Hi,toly st.. Con. giN';'" ,
p. 160.' ""
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Chapter III .ater-Symbolism
I. Water ~8 kn Archetype
In countless myths and legends water 1s repres,nted as
a p~r~doxic~ force; 1t 1a se~n aa being at once the beginn1ng
and end of all things. It 18 the primaI element from which all
created fonna amerge and to which they must aJ.l. retum. "It
1e their (the vatérs) lot both to precede the Creat10n and to
re-absorb it ••• " ,31. waters are the source and eustenance of
lire, the fount of immortality; they carry special healing
and creative povera, and are, 1n brie!, the main principle of
generation and fertility. But at the sam. time they aignify
dissolution and death. While Thetis'dips her ch11d, Achillea,
in the River Styx to ~naure h1s immortality, Charon ferries
departed souls acrOBS 1ts deptha to the m1sery of Hade ••
Water 18 thus symbo11e of the eternal paradox: life requlres "
death. ~ ~(
Much ot the power attributed ta, vater comes trom its ,'" b.ing a8sociated vith the Divine a. the primal element. In
Genea1e, wh!l. the earth vas yet formless and all va. h1dde. ,
11l darkness, "the apiri t ot God vas lIloving over the face of-'
the waters." 32. This beliet, that vater exiated betore_all
creat10n ~nd that creatioll 1e ra1sed up out of th1. primal
flood 1. a eommon mythologieal eonc,pt~on. In Bgypt~... Indlan,
and S1b.rlaJl talea, the ocean aloDe exlste untll a god atepe
torth tram ita deptha •
'1. Mire.. Bl1ad., we,a œ SYDjbol.. p. 152
'2. Ge •• eis 1: ,.
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Then there vas ne1ther Aught Dor Naught, no air Dor sky beyond. Wh~t covered all? ~here rested al1? In watery gulf beyond • lior death lias then, nor deathlest-;ness, Dor change of night and day. That One breathed calmly, self-sustained; naught e1se beyond It laye Gloom hid in g1oom--one sea, e1uding vlew. That ~~e, a void in chaos wr_pt, by inward fervour grew. \Vi thin It first arose des ire , the primaI. gerI:1 of mind. C33)
Because the waters are always w1th God trom the ~cginning,
the y carry with them the eS8ence of the eternal and immortal.
What emerges from the water, however, 108es this touch of
diVinity ~nd becomes subject to the processee of time and
~ decay. Contact vith the prima! waters, or Vith symbo11c waters,
stops this dlsintegrat10n and renewa b6th the earth and man.
By immersing the earth in w~ter, whether in myth or ritual, the
o1d impurities are washed away and a new creation 18 alloved to
emerge. "In cOBmo~ony, ln myth, r1tual and 1coDography water ,
r1lis the Bame funct10n 1a'vhatever cÛltural pattern we find
1t; it precedes all forms and upholds all creation." '4. ln comprehensive mythological cycles, the first creation
of the wor'l.d .111 almost al'Waya followed by a time of complete
evil and hatred amang men. The goda become disguated vith
man • a behavior and cause the earth to b~ submerged once again .. in the primal. watera. But one man ia alwa)'. saved 1a order to
begin a new race on the purltied earth--out of .i •• o~utio.
comee a nev creation, out of de.th comee lite. !he imm.reioR
in vater, the pe1U6e, aever me ... a complete auaih11at1oD of
the earth anel the liviDg. Rather, lt 8J1Dbo11ze. a retum, and. o
• necea8a17 r.turIl to the "pre-to1"lD&l., tor la.raio. M".
, •. "Rig Veel a , Il v. '65, ~ J. Muir, .tb.!. OrUinal §aUtElS Tut, Rl1!!Le prig1l) .1!!9. Hi\:Jt9ty 2! !bJt l>eoîjî, s.1 Ipd1&, Ah"1' 1I1140D _ Institution!. vol.I.. .
Il •. niacl.. N'C,ru J.a fè".arat1YI Bt1.iÂM. p. _ •.
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, a di8~olution of forma, a reintegration into the formleBsneee of
pre-existence; ~ld emerg1ng from the vater 18 a repetit10D of
t~e act of creat~on 1n wh1ch fo~ was f1rst expressed." 35. , ,
-,,, Egyptian IInd Dw,bylonian coamologicw.l mythologies cod1fied
th1e dual aspect of water into ritu:;.ls that wou1d ensure the
continued survi val of their worlds. --In Egypt, where the
per10dic 1~nund ... t10n of the land by the 11l1e reneWB the
product1v1ty of the 80il, a cosmology aad accomp~y1ng r1tual
interpreted th1s cyc11c phenomenon as the repet1tion of the
emergenee of the cosm1c order from the primal ocean. 36.
Similarly -in Babylon knd Mesopotamia wate~-rituals vere held ,
to pur1fy ~d renew the earth. This type of celebrat10n vas
not held only for the benef1t of the eKTth, but al80 for man. , ~
Juat as the old world was àeatroyed in the Deluge, so the old
man disappeared 1n baptiam r1t~a.
The primary function of vater, then, in ~th and r1tual,
'18 to di880lve the old forma, to rid the earth ~nd man of
1mpur1t1es, and to renew li!e. The eymboliem of the waters
i8 able to eneompass both death and re-b1rth beeauae a new
creation a1ways follows the dissolution, and because "!mmeraion
tert1l1aes and multiplies the potentialities of li!e.-"' 37.
Sinee it i8 80 e10aely coanected vith both lite and death,
vater 18 the pertect aymbol to mar~ the paaaageva7 batveen th1_
vor1d and the Othervorlci. And 1 t 1a uaed iD th1a capac1 ty
througbout mrtbology and 1egeDd~ lA orcier ta .. fer the
Othervorlcl, heroes are ,commoDiJ.Y faced vith the black, aurging
Ib~9., p. 188. ,
B.O • .Jame_, Creat10D .!!là 00"'010&1, p. 15. M. n1ade. ImaO' .!AS. §DbgJ..e, p. 151.
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waters of death as fhe1r f1n~ obstacle. As the hero 1e
generally involved in some type of a Iii! ~ passage, then it
1. appropriate that this final phase 1ncorpor~te the aymbolism
of dissolution and re-birth.
Uo symbolism could more effectively portr~y k passage frout the old. to the neW', from the well-known to the unknown, irom t~e bonded to the free, as could a p~as~ge through water. He who had cro8sed the water h~d sepkrated himself fro~ the old and was henceforth committed to the new. (38)
{'
These, then, are the basic attr1butes of water-symbo11sm:
it is a sign of death, but also of renewed life; it 1s a sign
of the division between our world and the Otherworld, between
time Qnd etern1ty; 1t ia a sign of the d1sintegration of old
fores, and the beginning of new ones. In the poems that 1
will discusB. these properties of water are further enhanced
by the Christian s1gn1t1oanoe of baptiam •
Il. Bapt1sm
Water 1a one of the strongest and most encompass1ng aymbols
in the B1ble. as the Patr1st1c authora vere quick to note".
Througnout the1r d1scuss1ons ot bapt1am, the Pathers part~cu
larly émphas1zed 1ta tYPolog1cal aspects. It vas important for
them to show why Christ had chosen vater as the one element
vorthy ~ impart1ng apir1tua1 regeneration. Purther, other
cu1ts and religions uaed rites aimilar ta the Christian baptiam,
so they vere samewhat cODcerned ta show hov the1r sacr»ment ~
ditfered tram thoae "false" onea, and hov v~t.r, 1a g.ne~,
V~8 espec1a1ly pl.aa~ng to the1r God. So, in hi. text, "0.
'8. P. D1ll18toae, Christ1anity !!4 Sxmboli,.. p. 197.
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Baptiam," Tertulllan makes a lengthy Buxvey of the re~8ons for
the Divine sanction1ng of water.
Hoy many, therefore, are the pleas of nature, how many the privileges of ~r~ce, how ~any the solerr~ities of discipline, the figures, the preparations, the ~rQyera, wh1ch il:...ve ord:..ined the S~.llCt1.ty of water? (39)
, He sees thia sanct1ty as stemm1ng froID God's ~se of water in
the creation.
For {water} 1s one of those things which, before all the furnish1ng of the world, vere qu1~8cent with God in a yet unshapen state. {40} v
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He goe~ on to point out that water was &1so used ln the cre~tlon
of mkn; it v:..s God's means of pUQlshing and yet aRvlng man-
kind vith the Deluge; it vaa the element God used to save the
Israelites from the Egyptians; and, most important of all,
"l'lever w~s Christ without watf!r."'4l. Sj.mj.larly, St. Cyril of
Jerus~le~, firet examines the qualitlea of water that glve lt ~
the power to impart to man (through baptism) the spirlt of
the Roly Ghost before he discussea the sacrament ltaelf.
Hut if ~y man wi9hes to ~ow why the grace ls given throut!h water inste~jd OI.' SOIne other element, he wUl .flnd the answer if he take§ up the Divine Scrlpture. For water ls a noble thine and t~ f~irest of the tour vislble ' elements ot the world. Heaven ls the dwelling pl~ce of ~gtl:.;, but the heavens are irom the wlIltere. Harth le the home of men, and the earth ia from the waters ••• The sea w~s Israel's means of 11beratlon from Ph~ero; ahd freedoru for the world from sin corues through the laver of w~ter in the word of God. Wh.rover there ie a covenant there also la water. (42)
Water 18 thua the one natura~ :rore. that cODllecte and incor-
poratea both the human ad the divine. God uaea,1t to worJC
40. 41.
Tertulliwn, "On Baptiam,· Ch. IX, in Tbe Wrltlng. 2t 'ertul11~n, vol. l, ad. À. Roberts and J. DonaldsoD, p. 241;
o
,~., Ch. III. p. 2". ~ .. ~.," Ch. IX, p. 241.
42-. St. Cyril ot "eru.alell, "ellt.ch •• ia,· 111.'.5, 11'1 ~ ~ g: fit. fJ.xril At el.mB,lem, vol. 1. tr.' L.P. M aUl.., ana-l.A. at.phenaoa.
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His will on e~rth, to fulfil~ Hie propheciea; and~an uaea it
to expreSH his spirit, and to touch God.
The Patriet1cs' emphasia on the typolog1cal Dature of
baptism 1a re~y an extension of the Pau11ne 1nterpr~t~tion
of the s~crament. In his lettera, P~ul spenda considerable
time explaining to the v~rioU8 churches what is meant by baptism
and bow i t fi ta into Christian doctriJe. The meaninga of
baptisw which Paul expl1cates are, of course, many and many
leveled. But the primary one reaults from the fact that through
baptism, man' diea to this world. This aspect of the sacrawent ~
1s part1cularly stresseâ by Paul and the ratr1st1cs, e8P~ as it vas connected vith a aaying of Je.us.
Jesus answered and said unto him (Uicodemus), '(lerily, verily, 1 q~y unto thee,~xcept a man be born ag~n, he cannot See the Kin~Jom of Goù.' llicodemus saith unto him, 'How can a ru~n be born when he ls old? C~ he enter a second time into his mother's womb and be .born?' Jesus ~nswered. 'Verily, verily, l swy unto thee, Except a man be born of water and the 8pir~t, he cannot enter into the':Kingdom of God. That which ia born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the spirit 18 spirit.' (43)
This saying was, of course, eee~ as directly relating to
baptisme Through bw.ptism, man vas cleansed of his sins, of
his pas~, and 80 given a new life.~ In his "De Sac~~ent~8,"
St. Ambrose uses the above paesage to show hov tne'material,
vorldly man "dies" vhen submerged iD the baptiemal font, and
hov h1S emergenoe ~rom the vatera 8ignif1ea the birth of hi •
• p1rit.
But he who pa8se. through the font, that 121 fram earthly to heavenly things--for thie ie the tr~n!1\ue, th~t 1. the Pas8over, a pa.sing~trom .iD to li!e. from gu11t to
---St. John '* ,-6. f ..
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grace ••• he who passes through this font does not die, but rises ag~in. (44)
Again we Bee the impor.tance in Christ1an doctrine of the
neceasity of severing earthly tiea 19 order to gain spiritual
knowledge. Through baptism, man figuratively transcends his
world .nd partake8 in the Divine mysteries.
This "dyine", however ie not merely related to the
spiritual pas8ing over; rather, Just as the whole baptismal
s6lcrament la seen as a fiGUre of previous acta of God~ so is
the dying seen as an antitype of the paasion of Christ.
Christ waa a sacrifice for this world and for man--so man 1a
presented as a sacrifice, through baptism, to God.
Know ye not that so many of us as were baptized into Jesua Christ were baptized into his death? Therefore we are bur~ed with him b:,' baptiam into .death: th.t ~ike as Christ "".a raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even BO we aIso should walk in newne~8 of life • For if we have been plant~d together in the likenesa his death, we sh~l be ~so in the likenesB of his" resurrection. (45)
This is probably the most profo~d aspeot of the sacrament-
that by plunging in the waters man shares in the death and
resurrection of Christ. So through baptiam man 1mitatea
ChristIe death, and when be emerge. from tbe font he i8
renewed, he ia resurrected.
It (baptism) representa dekth and entombment, life and resurreotion ••• When ve plunge our head into the waters, as iuto. a sepulchre, the old man 18 imwersed. altogether buried:' when ve come out of the water the nev man 81multaneoualy appears. (46)
Here. on a apiritual plane. we •• e'&gain that paraàox which ,/ ,
vater a1waya ayQbolizes: ~ut of d.~th come. lite. Just aa
ft
44. St. Ambrose, "De Sacramenti.," l, 4. 12, iD J. p.ni'lou. Prom Shadows 12 Realitx, p. 18,1.
v
45. Roman. 6, 3-5. 46. 3t. John Chryao.tom. "Bomily OD ~t. John 'a5." 125. ta
Commontaty ml L .tLllm lU .po,t1. J!Wi hg,.11.'. tr. S1.t.r Thomas Aqu1naa GO&b1U!, p. 247~- ,
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Christ died on the crose knd through hi. death gave lire to
mankind, 80 each individual mwn c~ re-enact thi. event, can
particip~te in thft divin~ and thus give nev lite to his being.
Thia de~th of the old, worldly man anù the birth of the
new spiritual wan ia commonly pictured through a "clothing"
metaphor: the old llum 15 li terally strlpped off and the new
mkn put on •
••• now, in the time of the holy laver of r~8eneration, 'the Lord Goù hath wiped aWwy ~I tears fram every face.' IJo more shall you 1llourn, now that you have "'put off the old\man,' but you shall ever keep~ieh feetiva1, clad in Jesus as in a earment of .alvat10n. (47)
It ia evident that the b~ptismal sacrament, its meaninga
and metaphora, are very similar to the myatic's ecatatic
vi.ion. The catechumen, accepting the doctrine of Christianlty,
vow~ to &ever hifi ties with the world. This separation i8 (
expreooed wh en he ia submerged in the waters. when the
catechumen emerges from the water, cleansed of his ains,
and spiritually renewed, he le, 11terally, a new man; and this
nev, resurrected man,then receivea spiritual knowledge of Qod.
By confession, 'put off the old man whlch i8 being corrupted through his deceptive Iuats,' to put on the new man wnich ls being renewed unto perfect knowledge of his Creator. 0 (48) ,
Aa in the ecstatic vision, the ultimate reault of baptiam
ia knowledge of God. The catechumen presenta bimBelf aa a
aacriiice to his God; he partakes of the death and reeurrect10D
ot Christ and through th!a a.crifice receivea a spiritual
tran8io~atlon in which he perce~ve. himaelf anev and a&e8 God.
47,
48.
St. Cyrjl of Jerusalem, "Firat Lectur~n the Ml.terle.~" 110, in!h! Worke 2! ~ Cyril 2t Je!ll!fem,. vol. l, ,tr. L.P._ JoicCMul.ey, p. ~~9.
~., "Catecheala," l, #2, p. 84.
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l beeeech you therefore, brethre.,by the mercies of God, thwt ye present your bodies a livine sacrifice, holy, accept.ble Ullto God, which i8 your ~~90n.ble service. And be not conformed to this world: ~ut be ye trwnsformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that eooù, and acceptable, and perfect will of God. (49)
AF_in .nd again, Faul etresses this ment~ aspect of the
renewal.:
Lie no~ one to anpther, seeing th~t ye hkve put off the old m .. n with his deeds; And have 9ut on the new man, ~h1Ch is renewed in knowledge ~fter the image of Him that cre.ted him ••• (50)
That ye put off concerning the fQrmer conver8ation the old man ••• And be renewed in the aplrit of your cind. (51)
This renewal of spirit and mind is, as vith the mystical
vision, . descrilied as an enlightenment, , iUl illumination •
. r Now this washing is cklled illumination, because they who learn the meaning of these things .re enlightened in their mind. (52)
• Prior to the catechumen's de.cent into the font he 18 instruc~ed
in the basics of Christian beli&f and doctrine. At this stage
he receivea man's 1nterpreted know1edge of God. But the actual
~ersion in the waters brings an inner knowledge, an inner
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illumination which i8 p~rticularly well described in this
passage by Clement of Alexandr1a.
49. 50 • 51. 52.
5'.
Eve~ though a man receive nQthing mo~e than his rebirtb, atill because he ia by that tact en11ghtened, he 18 àtraiehtw&y rid of d.rknees ••• and ~utomat1cally receives light. It 18 Just like men who shRke off aleep and then are wide-awa.kre 1nter1~rly ••• In the B~e vay, tliose who are baptized are cleanseà of tbe1r ains which lik~ a miat overcloud the divine spirit and then acquire a s~ir1tual a1ght ~h1ch 1a clear and unimpeded and 11ghtsome, the Bort . of 8ight vhich alooe eo~ble8 ua to behold divin1ty. (53) /
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ROIDaJ'l8.12: 1-2. 00108.1 .. D8 ,: 9-10. Bphealana 4: 22-2'.
D
St. Justin the Martyr, '!!he .r1r.t ApoloQ,- iD 1ba WOrls" tr. G.J. Dav1e, p. 47.
Clement o~ AlexandriK, Chr18~ !Da E4uç,tor, Bk. l, .Ch. ~, tr. S.P. Wood, pp. 27 - 28.
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Through bapt1sUl, matA 1s awakened 8P~ri~UaùlY to h1s true
Belf, .~nd 90 to knovledge of God. The structure of both the . blilptiswal sw.cramerrt IlDd the ecat:.l.tic vision are complete
pw.rkllels: man must be tranoported out of himee1f and his
world into ~ "land beyond" in order to be enl~ghtened, to see
th1ngs objectively. The basic idea inherent in both ia, again,
another manifest~tion of the .r.!..l.!!. ID! p~Bsap;:~, asc vell as of
the~edlev.l concern for transcendence. Through .acrament,
vision, and poem, m~ recelves experiençes of the Otherworld
that renev him, that re-affirm his Bense of values, that ~ive ~
him strength to endure this cortal vor1d.
"'-'hile the belie! that the world vas tr~61tory and 80 given ..
to rot and decay cauaed the medievals on the one hand to vieY .
thls 1ife vith the utmoat contempt, ,on the other hand,.it created ,.
a strong spiritual need to renev and to replenish the thinga
vhich decayed. Just as water could give both life and death,
80 change meant the deetruction of the o1d ~nd the beginning
of the nell • ... Everyone ia avare th~t a11.beinga are 8ubject to change Dever rewaining identical vith themse1ves, but are con6t~tly moving trom one atate to another by a perpetual change vhich ia elther for good or for i11 ••• Nov to be 8ubject to change ls, in a senae, constant1y to be born aglt!n. (54)
Th. nature of man, aB lIlaD.Y medieval. •• av 1t, WIl8 exactly ~
thia: "to be aubject to change." But chuge coul.d briDg llfe
a. vell. as de&th--baptiBm 1. a "chang.w •• deMth for man.
cleatroying hie put, but alao pre.entlng h1m vith a nev".watouchecl
future. and the promi.. of Ut. etemal.. !hrough the baptiamal.
Gregory of Nyssa, "~~fe ot Ko •••• w in !I2a G1Sll la O~orz •. J. Daa1él.ou, p. 96.
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aacrament, and through vi8ion and pOem, the medievale vere 6
able to actively partlc1pate 1n and experlence this ch.nge,
a.nd the rebirth such a change bri~gs." \fuether one 1. immersed
in the w.ter, transfixed in a vislqn, 'br transported to the "
'" .l.A/ " e / Il ' ,.:J< land of f~iry in a poem, man project,~~objectifies, and BO v(l experiences his changeful, ever-to-be-renewed spirit •
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IV. Sir Gawain .nd the Green Knight
I. Introduction
Turning to medieval romance w. notice tvo thing.
happening that are dIrectly related to the ecstatic Vi8ion ,
and the baptiBmal s~crament. Fir.t, there ia the journey of'
"' the knight from his own l~d into a marvelous Otherworld;
seèondly, there 18 the "lesson," the illumination of the knight
that occurs in that world.
The journey 1a. or course. a parallel of the Ii!! ~ paesage. In primitive societiea when a youth reaches puberty,
he ia aeparated irom the tribe and placed in iaolation for 80me
time. He is then inatructed in var1ou8 mattera by the adult t>
men of the tribe and alter this "enlightenment," he retum. aa
a nev ~ to take up his adult role and reaponsibilitie. in the
aociety. 55. The medieval projec~,ioJl of the Otherworld i8
eaaentiu1ly a apir1tual projection of thia very rite. And as o
the creation of an Otberworld was' f'undamental to thelr percep
tion and experience of 11te, it follov8 that thla apir1tual ~
projection would f'ind expression throughout-th.~r art and
religion. As ve have aeen. the myatical vision and baptiam
are both auéh expre.~1ve forma, and medievMl romance i8, l
bellev., large~ a aimllar manltestat10R of th. same peroeptioa.
ID'~ Gavain ~nd the Green Kpight, the Othervorld; (J
Bertllak's realm, i8 r~presentatl •• of knigbthooù'8 h1gheat
ieleale, and GMw.iD, a. the beat knight ot Arthur'. kiDgdoa,
~. Arnold vu Gennep, Mu r1$" lÀ!! pa"Mft, p. 76.
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of thia world, 1. shown that even his actions do .ot alwayo
measure up to his be11ef •• 56. As in the œyatical v18ion,
G ... wa1n's enlightenment takea place outoide of h1s known country;
and aQ in b~ptism, th~ renew~ knd rebirth this enlightenment
give him oc?ur next to a flowing river.
II. 'fhe J Ourney
Wh en Gawain sets out on his ~ourney ta the realm ~f the
Green Knight, we know that he will enter a 1and of enchantment,
that he wil1 be subject to tests, and that, whatever the conf11ct
or tension of the poem, the resolut1on wi11 be given in th.t
Otherworld. The journey which ~aw.in undertBkes, wh1le
involving phy8ic~1 thre~t8,. 1a actually directed to his BOul
a."ld sfJ1ri t, and, as Charles Moorman pdint,s out:, "It ls clear
from the beginning th ... t Gawa1n's taak is spirituàl rather thQn
physical. tI 57.
The journey itself t8kes Gawain far out of Arthur's 58 kinGC10Ll 1nto "contrii.yea straunge" (1. 713) • , where "vonde
ther bot 1yte/ That auther God other gome vyth goud hert 1onied."
(le 701-702) Dut while Gawain ia phy8ically alone, and ia ,
isolated ann 8ep~.ted trom bis familiar world, spir1tUMlly he
1. ~lways with God. The poet etre.ses tn1a point in particular,
tha t wl. though Gawain i. the only Cbriat1w.n mu. J.a th1.. ali.n and , , <
hostile world that 1. full of "vorces", "volues". and snort1nc
"etaynes". (1.720-123) God'is alvays in his heart act1n6 as
56. 57.
58.
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c. MoorIDan. A ADxghl Tb.r. ,ha. p~. 66 - 69. c. 14oorman, "Joly th ad Medieval Lit.raturel Sir Gava1Jl .... th. Ore'll hi,!h'C." in ~ yawaip 8;4· bWf CJj.t1eal. BI'P", .d. a.J. Blaacb. p. 228. ID quotl&tion8 are tak.1l trc. the _1't10a ot DiE GU''''' " ~ the Green Knift, ri1 tect bl 91r larael. Go~o. 'or , , "'~ 'ffi mâ, lie .. lor • 1966. . , -' , . .':.~
,." ',.,,'~'~~~'-0'.,' > '. .. \,' , •• v:'.:-iiI
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a guide and comforter: "Ne no gome bot God bi gate vyth to karp."
(1. 696) The isolation and hardships that he experiencea briag
his thoughta closer to God and 1t 1a evident that he i8 undergo1ng . that "pw.ssing out of .. " thw.t tr:msitus which w1ll bring him to
a higher spiritu~ plana.
In spite of the rough,.ho&tile country Gawaiu attempta
to ~ctively maintMin and practice his Christian beliefs and
cuatoms. Thus k8 Christmaa approache8, he makea "his mone"
(1. 737) to hary, aslf:ing for directions to some lodging where
he might hea l-lass. The fact that Gliwain 18 def'initely trave11ng
under God's grace becomes apparent as soon aB he finiahea thia
prayer.
liade he sayned hym-self, S6llge, bot thrye, 1. 763-764 Hr he wata-w»r in the wod of a won in a mote ••• A castl" the cowlokest that euer knyet ~gto, 1. 767-768 Pyched on a prayere •••
• Thu8 the moment that Gaww.in turns to God for help in Chr1stian~ ,
matters, his request i8 tulfllled. 1
Once 1nside the castle, wi th famll!ar aurroUZldillgj; and
vith the company and jQv!a11ty of other Chri.tian ~en, hia Re ••
for God'a help seema to evaporate. He haa RO idea that the
tru~ test, the re.l danger he face. 18 actuMlly within the valls
of this friendly c~stle.
, As a guest 1n Bertilak'. court, Gawain 1a honored largelJ
because he ia Sir Gavain. and 1a 80 renoV,Qed for h1. aannera
aud courtesy. The ladie. and nobles of the oastl. are del1ghte4
to bave th!. gentl. kn1ght there v1tà the. to teach th.. "lut
talkyng." (1. 927) All concerD. about ap1r1tual _ttera d1.appeara
at the meDt10Jl ot auch vorld.l,y aftaira. Gava1a "eloa •• _ of CO\lJ"lM,
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.' go to he;.,.r maSD, but immed1atoly folloving the service ad
while still in church, he 18 introduced to his fair ho.tess
and 18 obvioualy quite taken with her beMuty wnG charm. Th.
rest of his visit 1nvolves much revelry and party1ng, de11ghtful
teasing g~es with his hoatess, Qud jolly gift exchangea v1th
his host. At the .worldly level aIl 1a mirth and gaiety, 11ght
hOMrted joking and flirtation. The hostility of the rugged
countryeide 1s forgotten and the comtort that Gawain der1ved
trom God 1n hie isolation 1a forgotten too.
But the grim task that avait. him ie not far trom his minci.
At the end of the second day's party1ng, .Gawain Beeks permiS
sion from his hoat to reaume his travels once more. His hoat
being, of course, much more f~1ar w1th the Green Knight than
1a Sir.Gawain, aeBures Gawain that the journey 18 not a long
one and sa persuades him to 8tay bne more day •. Gawain never ,J
rea11zea that he has arrived at his destination and that he 1s
being tested, but on a far d1fterent level tram the oae which
he expecta.
V1thin the fr1encily court, which appeared a8 8uch a 1
refuge from th. alien world outs1de, Gawain i. oonfident of
timaelf and oi hia chivalry--ch1va1ry within .uch a aetting
iavolving the worldly samea of courte.y, 10veta1killg aIld .
tlirt1ng. \thile the •• gue. appear to be .0 :tamil1l1lr ad - !
.allle to. one a •• xperleD:~.c1 •• aavaiD. they are happell1Dg oa
the edse of the Oth.rwor~4 and .0 are load.4,v1th overtoa •• of
vh1cb he 1a Dot a,rare. ft. vor~cU.1 O.va1Ja ÀU torgotte. tut
the mat.rial realm &Dd the apir1tual re&l. are Dot·two •• par.ate
ua1D't'olYe4 plu •• , but iJa'teract ud 'part101pate 1Ja one _other. . :' 1
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.ben he finally reaume. hie journey, he la equipped vith
the green girdle--a aign of his tailure at re8is~ing vorldly
temptation, of his love for his life, and of discourteoua ac~iona
toward his hoat. A guide shows him the vay to the Green Knight'a
chape~ ~nd le~ves hiœ with a rev hopelesa worda at the top of a
hill. Gawain br~ce8 h~self and asserte that:
'Bi Goddea ~elf ••• l wyl nauther grete ne grone, To Goddes wy~le l am fu! b~, & to hym haf me tone.' 1. 2156 - 21~9
1
Yet hé wears the girdle. He followB the path into a valley,
where he passes again into that rough, rocky and hoatile land.
As he travels down through the valley he rid&B next to a
bolling stream, 'and beside th1a turbulent vater he discovera
a bo~low mound, which he thinks must be the green chapel.
A balg berg bi a bonke the brymme by-syde, Bi a forg of a flode that, ferked thare; The borne blubred ther-inne as bit boyled hade.
1. 2172 - 2174
Gavai~ has entered that Othervor1d1y realm think1ng of God
but clinging fast to hi. wor1dly girdle. He aees no other
man and, aaide tram the churning wkter, al~ is eer1ly quiet.
But th en from acr088 the stream comea the loud gr1nl~g 80und •
of an axe being aharpened. Gawain r1ght1y a8socia.tes th1a • Doiee vith the Green Xn1cht and once ag.ain etat •• hi. taith in
God.'& will:
'Let God worche; we 100 Rit he1ppeà .e not a mote. Hy lU' thag l tor-goo, Dred.e dots .e no ~ot.. 1. 2208 - 2211
But ,th. slrdl.e remlÙll. around hi. valat. !he Grea hlgbt
f1nally .ppear. OD the othH' a1de of the atre_. 'axe 1A -..s.
, . - t.~. :-:~.:;',... """
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He jumps across the water and Gavin faces. his tate. But the
anticipateà phys1cal blow does not come; all be reee1ves,
~hys1ca11y, 1a a alight eut on his neck. The real blow comes ~
to him woraJ.ly and Bpiri tually •
III. :'!'le Knightly Code :itnd G~wa1n'a F:iult
Throughout the poem the integrity of Gaw~in as a knight 1a
strongly empha8i~ed. .hen ve fir.t see him he appeare as a
humble man--one who discredits his own talents, who believes
in his dut Y to his king, and who behaves,courteously to both the
~ king and the giknt green intruder. hven the Green Knight 1s
vell-pleased to have Gawain as his opponent:
'Bi gog,' quoth tb~ grene kny~, 'sir Gavan, me lykes That l schal f~ge at thy fust that l haf frayat here.'
1. :S90 - 391
Be ia also app~rently we~-loved by all membere of Arthur'e
court; when he depwrta 0D\biS journey, the y gr~eve openly over
their 10ss, and refer to h\m a8 their best kn1ght (1. 672 - 683).
He ia g1ven s~11ar treatment in the court of Bertilak, where
his court~y ~anne~s are h1gh1y-acclaimed.
& alle the men in that mote maden ~uch joye To apere in hia presenBe preatly that tyme, That alle prys « proves ~ pured theweB Apendes to hys peraoun, 6: prayaed 1s ed'er; By-fore alle œen vpon molde hie mensk 18 the
1. 910 - 914 most.
But G.wain·. kn1gbtly virtues are ecpec1ally brougbt out
through the symbo11am o~ the emblema OD hi. eh1eld: the pentangle
tac1ng the outsid. world_ and a.p1cture ot the Virg1n Mary tac11lg h1maelt. The poet elevote. aome t!me to the •• aning. of . . . th... .ymbols t anel iD 80 cloiDg teU. u a p"eat clea1 about
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t ',. ,tries to upholc1 •
With itB rive points, the pentangle la symbolic of
Gawain's ~aultle8& :rive senses and five fingera, his trust 0
in the five wo~d& of Christ ~nd the five jaya of the Virgin,
and hia pos~e&sion of the five knightly virtuee, namely, piety, ... chastlty, gen~rosity, ~ellowship, an. courteay (1. 640 - 655).
When Gawain looks inside his shield he sees an image of 11ary
\ which reminds hi~ of her five joys and so strengthens his
couraGe. Don~d Howard points out that thia double symbolism
on Gawain's shield serves two purpose8: it functions &s a
"devotional reminder" to the k:uight and as a sign to the world
of Gawain's "inner moral perfection."
To the World the shleld shows what spiritual strength lies bene.th Gawaln's rich trappings; to Gawain it shows what ultira;.Lte spiritu:.I.l mew.ning lies beneath tb. World's bright lures. (59)
The ·pentangle ia thus moat representative ot Gawain and the Û
virtues which Gawain and his aociety attempt to fulflll.
The teat which Gawaln undergoea in Bertilak's castle la a
teat of thia "endeles knot" (1. 630), for, ... a Rovarci notes:
"Gawain la tested for!!! the vlrtuea of kniBhtbood, and iD a
degree he fkils iD all." 60.
Gawaln, then, 18 8ymb~lic of maD'. best attempt at ru1-filling the requiremente the knightly code demanda. Dur~g 'hia
atay at Bertilak's castle. the practical application ot th18
code, ~a •• en through Gava!D's actions, 1a caretully vatohe4
and exam1ned. Through GawaiD,~the ch1valr1c c04e of Arthur'.
kingdom and of ~eval aoc1e~y, 18 projected to an ,x~ernal
59. Donald Howard, 1he !l'hree .a.:.::;:G,IUWIolUj,.:A 228 •
60. ~ •• p. 224.
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A
level ~d compared vith that ot Betilak's caatle. Charles 03
Moorm~ bas made a careful study of the contraata between the
t~o courts, .howine how in each of the major scenes at the
court, castle, and chapel ironie taunts are directed at Arthur'a
reklm ~nd Gawain's virtue. 61.
Just as Gawain has been excess1vely pra18ed throughout
the world for his knightly perfection, so Arthur'a Round Table
has recieved the higheet acclaim ror the nobility and courage
of 1ts knights. The Green Knlght himself says that he has come
to this court because of 1ts fame:
Bot for the los of the, lede, 18 lyft vp 80 hyge, « thy burg &. thy burnes best ar holden, 3tifeat vnder stel-gere on steQes to ryde, The wygteat and the worthyest of the vorldes kyttde, ••• & thkt h~tz vayned me hider... 1. 258 - 264
But when no kn1ght out of th1s esteemed assemblage volunteers
to accept the "crystemas gomen " (1. 283), the Green Knight
laughs B cornful1y and. ahou ta: ,
'Wha t, la this Arthurea hOus,· ••• 'That al the rous rennes of thurg ryalmes 80 mony? Ybere 18 nov your sourquydrye & your conqueates, lour grynQel-l~yk & ~d your greme & your grete wordes? Now 1a the reuel & the renoun ot' the Rounde Table Ouer-valt wyth a vor~e of OR wyges .peche.' 1. 309 -314
~Gre~n Kn1ght's speech ~eveal. the vulnerab1l1ty of the
r tat10a of Arthur'. reala, u.à of -7 lforldly t.... Th.' (
-T.nown of the ROURd Table 18 •• p.c1ally 1as.cur. as 1t 1.
baaec1 primar1l.y on phyac1al force; Arthur'. lm1ght. IllUst coa
atantly t1ght and Mccept all chall.ng~. to ma1DtaiD th.1r higb " position. SimUar17, Gava1ll'a t'am. CaJl oaly be kept througb
cun.a1ous aQt~ve pract1c •• i"-
61. Charl.. Moonaaa, A KnuhS Th,re v ... pp. 66 -69.
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lA the scenes between Gawain and the \ady, ahe tvice poses
questions about his courtesy and about the veracity of ~s
reputa.tion.
'Bot th~t ye be Gawan, hit Bots not in mynùe.' 1.1293
This of course causes Gawôi.in some alam, as he ha~. obv1ously
felt quite pleased ~t the w~y he h~nd1e~ their téte-à-téte anâ c
he responds.in disbelief:~
'Quer-fore?' quoth the freke, & freschly he aSkes, f'erde lest he h:tde fayled in founae of his costes.
1. 1294 - 1295
The shocl~ voiced in his unhesitating reply rcveals how very
sure G.wain ia of himself ~d his maAAer8; pe cannat believe - .'"
th.t someone would actu~y criticize h~B courtesy or that he' ,. would fail in his behavior. His concern for his reput~tlon lB
esp,ecially evident on the th1.rd morn,ing that the lady visi ts
him. Her dress and seductive manners are great1y enticing and
Gawain fekrs that he will erre
He cared for his cortayeye, 1est crathayn he were, & more for his meschef, yi! he schulde m~ke synne ~ be traytor to th~t tolke thkt that telde agt.
1. 1773 - 1775'
He ia particuarly afraid of breaking faith vith his host by
flllling prey to the chluma of his boat' 8 vite. AB a. reeu1 t of
this fe_r, he 19 very ca~tious in his replies to ber questions,
and extremely caretul-about grac10ualy refuaing the gifta wh1ch
ahe prottera. But vheD the-green "lut-lace" (1. 1874) 18 held
up and ita virtuea extolleù, Gaw~1D CkDDot rea18t.
ThelUle he thulged. with h1r threpe, " tholed h1.r to .peke, & ho bere OD hym tne be1t, & bed.e hit hym awythe. &: he GTan teû.. Oc ho hym g~fe ,,1 th a gOl.ld wy11e •••
" 1. 1859 - 1861
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But along vith this promise of life come. a requeet that
Gawain not tell the lord of the castle about the gift;4 and
Gawwin agrees to this wa weIl.
& (ho) biuogt hym, for hir B~e, dieceuer hit neuer, .Bot to le11y l ... yne fro hir larde; t}H~ leude hym 'icordes •••
1. 1862 - 1863
Thus the feara that Gawain had when ehe tiret appeared, munely
that he ahould sin ~e~in8t courtesy and loyalty, are eubetanti() "
",ted, al tl~out:>h in a different forme
Through Gawwin's deeds and miadeeda, then, we are able ta
have a cloaer look ~t the chivalric code and .. t those men who
profeaseu to upnold it. Bertilak and the lady verbal1y express )
what they expect from the men'of Arthur's court, and in 80 'l:
cioing, externalize these valuea. And, as Ch;;œ1es Hoorm~ notea,
Bertil~k's ~ctiona, his manners anù courteey are otten held up
in direct contrast to those of Arthur and Gawain. 62. The
reception of' the Green Knight in Arthur's hall ia extremely 1
hostile and diacourteoua as compared ~h the greetiag Gawain
receives from Bertilak's court. Gawain'a own behavior at
Bertil~ta c~stle, 'eveu beiore he accepted the 81rdle, 1s a180
80mewhat questionable. Ue lies abea lwter~~ch morning while , .
Dertilak Qctively hunts ~d rides as a knight ehould. In the 1
hunting 80enea, Bertilak takea many risks and shows DO fear for
bis lite wh en threateAeà by the raving boar (aee line. 1581
1596). Alwaya he is ,in th. th1ck of the hunt, d1splaying hi.
proweas, but retraining trom &DY show/of tear or pride. Gavain,
OD the other hand, etaya aaiely in the caet1. entertain1ng the, , 1acliee anQ th1nking Oll tlle blow, and tearing the <luger to hi.
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62. Ibid., pp. 67, 68. ..
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"" ~if. that lt means. In this moodiness, he evidencea neither a
trust in his 0'11'11 virtuf's nar in God. AS!ide from manners an. love-talking, Gaw~in'reve~ls very few of his knightly qualit1es
while at Bertilak's court. ,And he iB much too ereoccupied with
thoughts of the Green Knight ta eVen tàe p:.l.rt wh~2S~heillrtedlY
in his role aB a guest. But once he accepte the green girdle.
a.nd BO the promise of physickl life, his attitude chwges ">
entirely:
Vche Dion halte daynte tha.re Of nYI1l, & B:Jyde, 1.1wysse, Tbus myry he wa.ta neuer are, Syn he com hider, er this.' 1. 1889 - 1892
This fear for hie lite results in his discourteous action of
agreeing to take the girdle. And once he does allov his bost'a
wife to give it ,to him, 11e breaks the knot of his pentanele and
.ins against ea.ch of its five points.
The accept~ce of the girdle from his bostts wife vas tiret ,
and foremdst an indication of his lack of faith in the grace ot
God. In spite of all his declarations ofotrust and, be!ie!, he ... ~,1
kept the girdle vith him throueAout his adventure at the ~reen
Chapel. 3econdly, h1a accept~ce of the gift vas a yielding to
the tempt~tion wnich his hosteas had repeated1y oftereG him in
one form or another tbroughout hie visite F1nw.lly, h1s act10ll
cau.ed hia to break raitb. vith hie boat, and ~n so Àoing he
. aiJmed againat the v1rtuea of generos1 ty t tellovehip, an. ", __
courtesy.
The major fault of Gavain, a8 Bertilak note., vas that he
-lufed" hi. lire kftd 80 he vas a 11ttle lacklng in hia loyalty
(1. 2366-i366). Hia attkchment to th18 worlà causei him to ...
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yleld tG temptation and he accepted th~ girdle and vith 1t
the promise of worldly I1fe--and the pentangIe, the Hendel ••
knot" lias aevered.
IV. The Water and the ~esBon of the Utherworld
Gawai~fs journey ends, notably, next to a running stre~m t
of water. It is' here beside the flowing watere that.'Gawain
learns of his mistake and receives his leS80n. fhe water la
an 1ndic~tion th~t Gawain'. travels are at an end, th~t he
viII be spiritually touched and that he wil1 10se one 1i!e but
will receive ~ better and newer one, for as Rliade notes:
"E hl" 63. very contact w~t vater imp ies regeneration ••• ~
Needless ta say, the poet was probably not completely . consciouB of the w.ter symbolism dlscussed in the previous
chapter. But he wa. a Chri8ti~f and Ma l pointed out, vater
figures quite prominently throughout the Bible, functioning
especially as a metaphor for Christ and as the vehicl. for
baptisme The experienee that Gavain has in the land of the
'Green Knight ia a Christian experienee, so that it 18 not at
all str~ge or unusual to find Gawain reeeiving his'illumina
tion alongside a river. Purther, one of the wa~ themea of
the poem, which ie atreesed in numerouB imagea and in the
atructure of the poe. tt •• li, 18 that of regenerat10n and
renewal. The whole concept of regeneration centera around the
paradox that lite require. death; and, a8 we have leen, water
ia uaed throuehou~literatur. and mythology a. a .etaphor for
th1a very parMdox •
6,_ M1rcea E1i~àe. Fatterna !n Coep*rat~vft R,1~s1on. pp. 188 -189.
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The idea of reneval. lias important to the medievala
because of their perception of the mutabi1ity ot lite. Y4n
and w.l.l e_rthly things vere by nllture ephemeral. One vay of'
coping wi th the transi tory character of the vor1d vas to viey
it w~th loathing and contempt, in the tradition of Innocent
III; another vay VaS to Bee change in te~ of rebirth an~ ,
regeneration, as did Gregory of Uys8a. c
The poet of ~ Gawain ~ ~ Green Knight counterbalances
brtb o~-these perceptions ,~o give us a seDBe of • chastened
optimism toward 1ife. Throug~out the poem. ~es of regenera
tion and renewal are caref~y poise. against thoae of aeath
and decay. The tranaitory nature o~life ~a eapecia1ly
emphllaized by the poem's time-scheme. FTpm the moment tÀ~t ,
the headless Green Knight gives GkWain the re.pite of a
"tvelmonyth & a dllY" (1. 298), a certain urgency ~d claus
trophobic feeling enter ~he poem. Gavain i8 ohut in by a
particular time period, by a dead.line-and ùl. the whUe the
hideous imwge of the he~dle8s Green Knight lurka in the back-\
ground as a rem1nder of VAkt Gavain can expect when his time is G
up. The poet enhaacea th1a trmsi tory feeling by beginn1ng
the second section of the poem vith' & v1vid description of the '
paa.ing of the aea.ona •
.A yere yerne. tul yeme; &: yeldes neuer ~yke, The torme-ta the ryniament to~de8 fu1 ae1aen. lor-thi thia yo1 ouer-yede, and the yere after, & vche .eaoUD aer1epea aue" al'ter o~h.r; 1. 498 - 501
But the Beasons cio not merely puah Gava1.n .1nto the tillle-
zone of hi. tILt.; they are alao cyclical. and 'thie repet1t1v • ,
.. pect of vlllter. apriDg, ~er, ~all br1Aga vith 1:t • kiDd ot
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hypnotic reasaurance about the survival of life. Againat a .,..
background of 11mited anÀ pressing time, the poet posita auch
-images th~t co~bine the neceasity of death with the inev1table
contin~:.tIlce of lIife. Pr1m~ry WlIlong these imaé?es 1s thkt of the
color green, signifl1ng ~t once the vitality of 11!e as weIl as
lta grim end; it ls represent~tive ,of the v1gor and fertility
'_,\ of veeetat1on, but 1a al.sp death's hue. The Green Knlght wlth
> hia holly bough in one Rand and bis bleed.1ng head in the other •
la, of course, most expressive of thls duality. 64. Parallel to
this are the strong 1m~ge8 of nature and the natural processe. o
that lire seen in t'he descriptions of the Beasons, of Gawain ',a
jourhey, klld of Bertilak' shunt in the forest. Just 'as the'
aeRaons paas. br~ng1ng both apring and winter, and as death's
shade 1s also the color of lite, 80 man must klll in order to
live: the living are dependent on the dead. Su ch duk1ities and
contr~rities are pitted aga1nst one another at every st~e of
the poem: Arthur t s court ls comparecl wi th Bertllak' '.; the ;'
beauty and youth of Bertl1ak's vite ie contrasted vith'the
ûBlinesB ~nd old àge of ber comp~ion; the vigor of Bertllak's
hunt is hflghtened by the 8leepy bedroom Bcenea betveen G~waiD
and his h~stees; there iH Gawain'a à1!ficult journey and the
co~fortable 11!e in the çastle; there are great parties and
feas'ing, .nd there are times ot l.nelineas and fasting."
64.
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The~e contraHts and ciUau.ti ••. ,are turther emphaa1ze4 by
'~
W.J.. Nitze', "Is the Green Knight Stor)' a Vegetation Mytb.," Modern Ph11ologY XXXIII, 1936. p. 351 - ,66 •
ID bia-article "Gavaia and the Green Kn1ght,· (CB XXI, 1951. p. 50-51J. J.S. Lewl. notes that the co1ura green amd gol4i .are tradl ~,ionally \.lsecl to aymboli·ze Yan1ab.1Dg . youth1 so tbat tbe Green Knight' 8 gltrb a1gnifiea the lr~a torin.as of lite. r
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the structure of the poem 1tse1f. The poem 18 as symmetrical .
as the cycle of the season~ wh1ch 1t descr1bes, knd like the
.e~sons i8 d1vided into four pkrts. The peet beg1n~ and .nda
h1a tale with a reference to the hiatory of the founding of -Br1t_in (1. 14 ~d 1. 2524), .nd in between establishea a
specifie bsl.nce between the eventa th.t happen ut Arthur's ,
court, Bertilak's castle, and the Green Knight's Chapel. The
firat. beheading scene, the arming of Gawain, his journey, and
his three temptat10ns are 811 repeated in the latter.half ot
the poem with, of course, a slig~tly difterent perspective ~d
emph.Hia. \ But the-result of these parallels.is that when
Gawain bends his head for the Green i~16ht ve have the slightly
eerie feeling of déjà ~. 65. while the time-scheme pushea
Gaw.in forward to his fate, the cyc11cal st~cture of the poem
oper.tes to r6assure us of hia s~ety.
Gawain meets th1s .fate, as noted before,l beside a boiling
atream; th~ poem kDd Gawain's journey corue fUll-circle beside
th1s all-encompass1ng symbole Like the color green, water ia
at once expressive of li!e and death; and like the structure of
the poem, it reas~ure8 us about Gavain'è survival. The paradox
that 1ife requires death vas projected by the med1evals to a
apiritual plane--and it 18 on thi8 leTel that the vater funetions \
and that Gawain reeeives his renewal.
A8 in baptism, Gawain exper1enees a aymbolic death wben
the axe cuts nia n,ck; and also aa in bapt1am, Once ·he h~a -
undergune thi8 "àeatb," ke ree.1ves an e~~ht~nment abou~·him-
65. D. Howard, "Strücture and Symmetry in Sir GMvain," ~peculum XXXIX, 1964, p. 425 - 4".
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.tf1 self and about his society and ita value.. Nearly all cr1tic8
agree that the~le8~on Gav~in is given is,one o!'humility. ~he
emblem on his shield. revealect a kn1ght stri ving for morllll: per
~ectioD, and ip many respects believing that he had attained it.
But in the quest for, perfection, one must ~lao have knov1edge o
of onels human we~nesses ~nΠflaws, and must be able to admit
these and still work within their confines. The reneval th~t
Gàwuin receivea comes in the form of a elight warning, a gentle
rebuke, giving G~vain.pause to think .bout his morta1ity knd
his li~itationa as a man. The first beheading gave Gawain but
a year an. a d.ay to live; the ,second beheading absolved him of
his sins anù eave him a new lite.
'Thou art confeuoed so clene, be-knowen of thy messes, & ha.ts the penuunce ~!>ert of the poynt of myn egge, l h~de the polyseù of that plygt œ pured as clene As thou hades neuer for:feted sythen thou W:lta fyrst borne.'
1. 2391 - 2394.
So, again, aa in bQpti8~, a new Gawain emerges from this
test by the stream. But he brings vith him a token of his
lesEon, which the Green Knight gives him to remind him of his
error ~nd to temper his pride. , ,)
'& l gif the, a1.r, the gurdel that 1a .golde-hemmed; • • • • • • • •
Thenk vpon thiu 1lke threpe ther thou forth thryngea Among prynces of prys, & this a pure token Ot the ch~unce ot the grene ch.pel, ~t cheualrous knygte8.
1. 2395 - 2399
Gawa1n'a journey brought him to a land vhere his ch1valr1c
coele vaa eXaDlinecl·as vell a8 hi. ovn ab1l1ty tG upholà auch
high 1dèa.l.. Hi. error atemme. primar11y frOID pride in hi. on )
reputatioD, ..nd ahoved hiII'I AOV tery vulner!Lble all. Ilell arè to l '
• 1lUlk1ng miatakes. Hi. pentangle, Ma "en.el •• Dot." CaB only .
~e JlUiintaineci by comb1n1ag hu.ility vith hie other v1rtuea. Nan
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is transitory ani his nature 18 inconstant, and it 1a very
à1tficult tor Bucb k mortal creature to always fulf~ll the _1
1dea..ls he prote.ses to believe. But when a man docte err he
does not h~ve to be cursed ~nd condemned. Rather such mistakea ,
allow him to re-exkmine hia ethical code, to analyse his own
behnvior, and to get a new st.rt on lite. Gawain's m1atake
caused him a pa1nful conscience and wounded hià self-esteem;
but at the same time 1t brought htm a heightened awareness of
himselt and his society, and g~ve him a new lile •. And th1s 1s
cause for joy as the laughter of Bert~lak and Arthur'a court
prove.
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v. Lui dè Gr~elent
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I. In;trdùuct1on
~hether or not po~mB concerned vith relktine the .elights
to be found in courtly love vere meknt to ?e taken seriously ,
or not hk9 always been.a favorite matter of debate among critics.
All are agreed, how~ver, that the actual pract1ce of courtly "
10ve would have necessarily led a person into unChr1stikn acta.
If a knight loved h~a lady according to the medievkl dict~te8,
then he elevated ber to a plane that'was strict1y equivklent
vith that of a aa1nt--he sought to do gooù deeda tor her and
ber alone, 8uffered for her sake, and wa~ ab8~lved of any "sina"
that he might commit as a lover. Thia whole Byatem, if pre-
c1se1y folloved, would hav~ ~o be l~bel1ed heret1cal •
sOt course, the poets' tales of such eelt-effac1ng, wo-begone \
knighta c~ be viewe. in an ironical 11ght, aa Robertson auggeats,
prov1ding a warning for the public against the 1usts of the
fleah. 66. Or it can be •• en, as A.J. Denomy argues, a8 an out-c
right pervers10n of Christi~ doctrine aince much of the lang
uage ot courtly love 1s obv1ously borrowed from Christian
vr1tings. 67.
But, l believe, &S D.R. Howard augge.te ia hie The Three
Temptat1ons, that courtly love 1 •• or. cane.rD •• vith the
.e~1eval h1erarchical conception or perfection. oAB HOvarà p
Dotes" tbare vere var10Wl "gracies" o~ perfect:1on wh1ch Il llaD
aigbt _attain •. Higlaeat, of oours •• voulà b. the lev.~ of cp .. a1: 1ty ~ i .
66. D. Robert.on, A. PretacJ 12 Chaucer: Stud:1e. la Medi .... l. Perspectives, pp. 391 - ;03.
67. A • .J. »enomy. n.t Htr'il .t! gOllrtlx ld!D..
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and. ascet1c18m wh1ch Ch~rch doctrine advocatecl; but that "it>,~ .
",a" imposs1ble tor kll men too achieve thi8 etate ot grlllc. goe8 ~ without saying. 6uch Christian perfeotion could only be reached
by f01lowing spe.liic stepa, much l1ke those St. Augustine set
~orth for those dea~ring visdom. But for the man who could ~ot
pursue thia course to its tina1 ~nd, worldly love mi~ht lead-
him to a level which would be somewhat ennobling, and that tAis
level would be, as Howard writes, "superior from an aristocra
tic point of view, to whatever va81 base, ·whatever hckeci ... ~':!
courtoise or gentilesse ~~ Hate, Feloyne, and Vllayne vere the
first to be excluded fr~m the garden of ~ove." 66. So tbat
Just as the chivalric code Bave a knight c~rtlilin precepte to
~ollow that paralleled Christian doctrine ~d that governed his
behavior on a polit1cal plane, 80 the rulea of courtly-love gav&'
him stand .... rds th .... t were esaentially Christian and that; rul.ed bis
8oci~ conduct. .
~ic to Christi~, chivklric and courtly love codes va.
the iclea of loyalty. As one honored and obeyed bis God, 80
àid one honor w.nd obey his k~g and his Biatress. This three-~
(part demand on one's allegiance oiten reeultea in il conflict ':"1
-of prioritiea, and a sin macle in one field could have a1wilar l ,
.ttects 111 anqthetr. ThUG Gavain' 8 pride ot lite cauaeci h1m to'
loae fa1th 111 GOÙ'8 grace, to~~cèept the Yo~ldly g1rd~e, and 80
to brelilk fai th vi th both' hie Goà ancl Bertilak.. In the M!! !1,) ~
Graelent. OrKelent'8 pr~de in hi. laQy causes him to challenge
la1. king ana, in so cloing, he breaks hi. oath to hi. lacly ••
68. \ D.R. Boyard. D!. 'l'hre. 7!empt.t1sml. p. 9'.
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vell a8 to his king •
Through such romances, medieval society va. able'to exam1ne
the dem~Q8 that a11 three codes made on men, to see hov the
codes int~r-acted, ~d ta wateh the aetiens ot individual men
when theae demanda conflicted. Again it ia a poetic projection
of m~ as he attempts to come ta terms with what 1B expected of
him, ~d vith his own abilitiea and limitations.
II. Gr~elent'8 Char4cter
The lâis of f.1arie cie France vere probllbly wri tten soce- '
time in the late 12th or early ~3th centur1eo. 69. The~major1ty
of theae short simple t~es examine tbe, idea of courtly love and
the relationship between a k~ght and Ais lady. Marie _1B not
concerned~w1th the conflict between Christian and secular love,
but me~ely ,shows bow courtly love can ennoble II. man, kDd how,1t ~
, can reveù to him the flawli in his nature and help him to correct'
these.
A. the L~i ~ Gr_elent opens, we are given a p1cture of a
geoc1 and noble knight, one who .1s vi rtu ous , viae anci sk.1llecl u
in feata of arma. He 1s well-loved by the Kl.n~ and the co\U"t,
and becauae of his qual1ties i8 e8pecia1ly lovecl by the Queen
(1. 5 - 20). The ~een à.cidee t~t ahe will .1sclose her \
passion to Graelent and ha. him sammoDeà to ber c~ber. WheD
Ae arrives, ahe que.tions ~ c10aely about hi. attitude toward
~ov., ~Dd .sk. 1t he haa hia Àeart .et GD &Dy v..... Grae1ent
replies vith great Vi8dom &DG courte.y that love ia a aeriou.
ID hia ~ littérature tr~~ç~ise Jg moyen tKe (~ - XIV.ieel.), Gastoû rMria euggeatu ~77 •• the •• te ot the1r c •• p.a1tioll.
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matter, Dot a jest, knù goes çn to give hls viewa o~ the rela~
t1o~ahlp th~t should. exist between a lover and his lM~1.
Amors demande caasté En fais, en dis è en pensé: Se l'uns des ~~n8 est loiax, E li autre est jalo~ ~ f~ua, Si est amors entr'ex f_usée.
\ Ne peut avoir luhge durée. Amors n'a soing d~ coruP~b~un, Boin ;,unors Il' est se de Dex nun nè cors en cors, de cuer en cuer, Autrement n'est prex a nul fuer. 1. 83 - 92 (70)
He !1niohea his speech on the demanda of loye vith a quote
from Clcero'a text on frieniship, and then streases the impor
tknce of trust and faith between lovers.
.
Amors n'a de STant forfait cure, Loiaté tenir ~ pramettre. 1. 104 - 105
The Queen i8 delighted with his ability to àiecourse ao
courteously and, completely ignoring the content of bis speech,
asks him for his love. Graelent is somewhMt overwhelmed by thla
audàen declkration, but mkDagea to reply again vith grace and
tact.
Dame, .lat-il, vostre merci, Nais il peut pas estre ensl.,.. Car jeo sui sauQoïers le Rai, Lolauté li prawis è foi, H cle àa vie è Qe' s'anor. Quant a ,lui reIués l' _utre jor Jà par moi hunte n'i ara. '1. 171 - 177
Graelent has .WOrD fidelity to hie king, aDt thia o.th must
tate preeedence in all hi. actione. Loyalty, vb1ch Grae1ent
aa1à must exiat between a lady an. a knight lf there 1. to be
l.'Ye, la equally important when if 1. givell by a Jœ1.ght t ••
70. All quotat10na arè taùten fr.1A "Lai .e Graelent." in POfJaiel te .1&1, 2.!. Fr.llge. ••• B. •• Roquefort. vo1~, 1. p. 4~6, iiar18: 18)2.
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'-, lord •
, - \ When the Queen mak'. ber offer, Graelent i8 immeàiately
aw~e of the sina ~nd discourteous ~Ct8 to his King that would
reault if he accepted.'
However, the Queen 1a persistent and time and time aga1n ahe
'attempts to make him ch~nge his mind, but alw~ys she ia rebuffed.
Finally incensed by 'Ilhat she considers his l,ack of esteem for
her, she turns on Graelent anu telle the King evil tales about -"
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him, and persuades the King to witbhold vages from the knight
and hia men. The Kin8 ia vaging a var in Drittany and Graelent
has vowed to help him; but when the King refuses to pay Graelent
for hia servicee, he sinka tAto poYerty anù tinally has neither ,
horse Dor saddle 1eft. But never does he speak against the
King ner does he reveal the thoughts of the Queen: the loyalty
th~t he had pledged rew~ns firm within hia heart aa well as in
his actions.
At this point, Graelent 18 obviously auftering for bis
virtuoua conduct--which waa not an uncommonphenomenon in
Chriatian traùition. But &lao, aa in Christian tradition, hie
virtuea .0 not go unnoticed; hèlp 1a extenàed trom an Other
worl., this time trom the realm of fairy.
III. The FairY's Ent1cement
Contacta with the Otherworld come.1R all forma. ani
1 t 1. not unuauü tor aid. to be etten' to the virtuou8 evell {)
Wh.D' 1t ,h~s Dot been .pec1tlcally requested. Hav1ng reach~d a
à~mal atMte or abject peverty, GrMelent b.rrowa a h.rae &D •
•• àdle one Hay morning ~nd ride. int. a foreut,all th. wh1le
retlect1ng Oll hi. mi.fortune.. Sud,à.lÙ.1. white urt, whlter.
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than the angw, appear8; Graelent 1B, of course, struck by 1ts
• unusua.l color ~nd. follows it cloaely through the wood. The
white hart ia the,firat aign that Graelent is b~1ng suœmoned
by a f:..iry.
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A very ordinary fOTm (of enticement) representa her (the î.iry) ~s sending out & fairy meeaenger d1sguiaet âs uome tempting victim for the huntsm.n's dart, uau~lly a St0i6, li bo.r, or'a bird, which lures the young knieht to her dowain. (11)
The white deer leadH ~raelent to â grassy meadow where a
founta1n sparkles clear and bright; and in the fountain 1s the
lovely falry. Natur~lly, Graelent's interest in the hunt 4i8-
appears at thi8 s1ght an~ he quietly appro.ches the la.y'&
clothing which ia hune on a tree. Her mMidens cry out ,in alarm,
and thé fairy herself ahoute at Graelent to leave her raiment
alone •
Graelent, l~i mes dras ester. 1. 231
Her immed1ate knowledge of his name 18 another indication of
her otherworldly charm.
Graelent tries to aaBuage her fear8, but the falry refuses
to liaten ta him.
N'ai cure de vostre parole, He sui nient de vostre ecole. 1. 249 - 250
Gr~lent awe.ra that he will not barm ber, and finally sbe com ••
forth from th. fountaln. Grae1ent then d.clare. hi8 love for
her aD~ aaka if be can be her servant. Sbe continu.s to rema1n
" .~ewhat aloGf, but at long laat relents Mn. tb.1l cont •• se. that
~he bas al ways loved. him and that alle Ad e"tic.' hill to th.
woo~ •
71. L. p ... ton, Stud1ea !Q the Patry MythologY !t. Arthur1y RomMe,. p. l~.
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Gr~elent, vos estes loiaus Prox è curtoia et kssés biax: Pur vous v~ng-jQu k la fontkine. 1. ;1; - 315
~lth her otter ot love also cowes a promise that he will
be well-aupplieà with money and arma and wh~tever m~terial goois
his position requîres. But her love ~nd friendship can only be
maintained on the conàltion that he nev~r reve~l their affaire
Nais une chose vus deffent, Que he dirés p~role-~perte, Dunt notre amurs aeit descuverte. 1. ;02 304
She emph~8izes the need for him ta be discreet" "nei not to
boast pride!ully ~bout thelr love.
Gardes que p~s ne vus vantéa De chose par qoi me perdés.
• 1. 319 - 320
Finally .she ~6ks hilll ta remôolin in the King' s country for one
ye~r, as she le fond of this lanà • ..
On return1ng home, Graelent finds a valet waiting for him "
w1th;\,a wonderful horse, new clothing, and a purse conta1ning
gold ~nd silver. And BO begins Gr~elentts one delightful year
with the fairy.
IV.' The Bo:..st
At the en. of the year, the ,King hel. a feast t. celebrate
Pentecoste During the clelebration, wh eu all the nobles vere
akt •• with fooi an. crink, the Xîne commande. hi. vife to atep lo,
forth on the dôolis and put ott her robes. When sbe hac ione
thla '. tbe King boaat •• : .. Seenur Barun, que vu. en aanbl.? A sous ciel plu. bele RoIne? 1. 420 - 421 ,.
Sa wl1 the lorda rose to the1r feet and eôoleerly confirme. the
prou. ~~rei. et the king--all, that 1_, except Graelent. He aat
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vi th boweà. he .... d, 'emi1.ine at the table, think1ng of bis fair,
graciou~, ~d modest lauy. The Queen, however, preceiveà the
dishonor he did to her anQ. broueht thia to the attention of the
Kine, ... nû the King demanded Graelent to explain !fis actiona. <,
Graelent anuwf'!red that, the King h ... ti. shaJued his vife by so
di~pl.yinG her, and then boasted tllat he knew a fairer ma1à.
Unqu~8 ru_iB hum ~e tun par .... ge he fiat tel fait ne tel fola~e; De t~ fe~ae f.is mustriaun Qu'il n'a çaiens un seul Harun, Cui tu ne le faces 10er, , Dient qu'il n'a sous ciel ua per: Pur vier vusudi une nuvele, ~ peut asses truver plus bele. 1. 451 458
The Queen i8 exceedingly angry over Gr.elent'a bo.st and. ' , . Qem~nds that he produce th1S vo~. Sa Graelent is taken cap-
tive and ht:ld pri,soner. .hen Graelent ls c:.llled before the .-
• . Qourt, ohe 1s told that he IIfill be given one year's freedom at
•
the end of which he must bring bis friend to court. Graelent
then sets out for his lodging, but upon arriv~ng there f1nds no
Sit,,'ll of his friend or valet. He call~ out for her, but reqe1ves ,i>
/
no kn8wer--because of his broken vov she has withdravn her love.
And so 'W.nother year passea, cturing whic'h'~t1me Graelent sat ., about be[Loanin~ his position. "hen he ia called to the court
again, he _~its his 1nab11ity to 'rina his l .... dy, and the King
asks the~arons for a harsb sentence ws Gr~elent had not kept
his vow of loy~lty
Ne .'aime 'pW8 à. bolne amur, ~ Qui IIlw' l"e~e d.1st' deshonour. _
Ki volentiers fiert vostre chien, Ja mwr querés qu'il vus .~t b~eD. 1 •. 545 - 548
But juat aa the Barohs are about to pa.a judgment OR
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Graelent, a paGe rune into the court announcine the arrivaI of
two fair ~aidens, who, he thinks, may be bringing aii to
Graelent. The two d.uneela ride into the hall anci announce the
coruine of their lady. AlI members of the court m&rvel at the
beauty of these l_dies 'ffid the Queen makes h:.lste to le:.lve the <' • hall. ,:(hen two more maidens, prettier .nei daintier tlu,m the
firet, appear, and they too amnounce that their mietresB ia at
hand. By this time :.lll the nobles in the court are on their
.. teet in anticipation--wll are eager to greet the coming bea~ty. \'1
And fin .. Uy she doea arrive, riding D10cieatly &nci queenly, ber ,
beauty shining out radi.ntly.
l-lut ert bele de er ... nt manière, C
A dox sanul.nt, ou simple cière. Biax ex, biax v~s, bele facun, En li n'a nient cie meaproiaun. Tot l'es~~r~~rent ~ m~rveille D'une porpre tute verceille A or brosu~e estre1tement, Esteit vedtue r~chewent. 1. 592 - 600
The fair ruaid stops her palfrey before the King an. then addresses him'very courteously, recalling Graelent's
wistMke in provoking the Kine, but also ~dmitting tbe truth of ,
Grkelent 1 s wtatement that 110 womlllJ'l 18 s. 10vely but th~t a f~lrer
"t;:f one m .. y be found.
Ceste parole est bien ~4ue; Vérltes est, il wesp_rl~,
·Puiaque li Rois s'en core!a ~ais de ce diat-il vfrit~, N'est nule de ai gr_nt biauté, Que autresi bële ne Belt. 1. 622 - 627
She then aeks that he~ beauty be compareù with thé ~.en'. ana
all the nobles 1nQludlng the K1ng agree that 8h~ 18 lnde~. the
love11er et the two. Hav1ng •• ved ber kn1ght, the talry leave •
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the court with her 1a.ies; but ahe has no word for Grae1ent.
He, of course, fo11ows her and p1e.da ~.r forgiveness. But
she refuses t. anower.
v. Tne Return Journey
So the five 1~die8 and the one persistent knight ride back
into the forest and cOll.e to a "'ide, deep stre~. It i61 only
ROW th.t the f~iry breaks her silence, but she 8.oe. so oDly in
Orter to give ~ warning to Graelent.
Fui, Gr~elent, n'i entre pas, Se tu t'i mes, tu noier~s. 1. 663 • 664
But Gr~elent refuses to hee" h~r vords, and alttempts the ford.
Immed.iately the waters close above his head, but the lady reseues
him ~nd brings him balck to the land. And again she tells him
that it ia impossible for him to crOB8 this river.
Puis li dit qu'il ne puet passer, Ja tant ne s'en s~a pener, C~&nde li que voist alriere. 1. 671 - 673
Graele!lt~, hovever, will not li.sten to her and. for a second time
he tries to cross over into her land. This time he is swept
from his saddle alnd ls about to drown, when the fairy take8 pit Y
on him .nd. rescueli him ag;,tin, bringing him to her country and "
revivlng him there. Thus, Graelent, through hi. villingnes. ta
ale, vas given new lite by his fairy in her lanà.
VI. The Lesson
wnen GrKelent boaeteÀ to the King kbout the beauty ot hi.
lady he erre. in four ways. Pr1marily hj)I act'ioD vas une at
prlde--pride being the fundament~ cause .t all aina. Hi. per
.onal priàe in the faimes8 ot hie love reoulted iD hi. beiDg
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.iscourteous t~ both the King anà the Queen. Hia insult to
the Queen, while true, ail. not follow the rules of courtly
chl.valry Wllà caU'sed him to break faith with his King. But the
sin thlol.t hurt hiru' the most was th~t in his hast y speech, he
boaste,~ of his fairy, reve~ed their lto.ve, and so ciestroy~d tbe
\ " trust between them.
In his tiret speech about love, Graelent carefully explained
that loyalty between lover~ is of primMry importance. He re-l
fuses the Queep's offer because he' x:eal.1~8' that from the out-
set i t would be basea on a fal.se premi.se, on a àishone~ action.
Anci if he broke his vow to his King, wh.t woman wdUld trust" him
as a lover? So Gr~e}ejt auccessfully withstands this t~~ptat1on, maintains his sense of hieràrchiea, anà so preservee knd increases
his virtue. It 1& bec~use of this gooà action that Graelent ,
Buffers in the first nal! of the peem, but it is only a material ~
su!fering ana Graelent manages to endure.
When the 'f.airy offers Grllelent her love, she .oee 80
primarily because she knowa of this previous temptation ace.e,"
and bec~use she believes such virtue ahould not go unnoticed.
But she i8 also aware of Graelent's priQe ana, through ber gifta
of foresi&ht, knows that he ~~ll fail in his vov of discretion,
and tells him se.
Pur TUs,souterai-jou grant paine. 1. 316
ret for the apllce of one year, Graelent manage. to keep hie
promise.
How.ver, wb.n the King display. hi. vite •• tbe .aia, ~
GraeleD~ C~ n. longer contaiD h1m.elt. He knovs the Queen'to
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be a Bh~lov, unfklthful woman, and It 1. impossible for him to "
a~it that she 18 more beautiful or graciouB than his lajy. An. 80 he commits his error.
The fairy'a offcer of ~ove to Gr~elent is an acce~tance of
a mortal, ~d fallible man on a perfect, othervor14,~y plane.
In his actions with the Queen; Graelent's virtues were fully 0
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discloaed; but, being a m~, his virtues are always ausceptible
to flaw. The oath that tqe fairy required of him put the .
8upreme test on hls character~ àa it trie~ the cornerstone.of
aIl sina, pride. Ani, ka we bave aeen, Gr~~lent could not , 1 .
resiat the tewptktion to boaat about hia la~y.
The teat of the fa...iry does not merely touch Graelent, but
looks ~t the whole courtlYosociety.of which he i8 a part. An.
there, too, we aee the same ain of pride operatlng, and especi-
&1ly priùe in transitory, earthly beauty. The King'a conceit 1/1
results in the first coast, ~d the ah~etul conQuet of tbe\ ,
Queen. The King 18 chastised for making a sp~c~acle of hia
vife, ~d for being 'ao full of Ignorant arrogance. But it la
n~t,only in her speech, bu~alao in the modest grace of"h~r
bearinè, that the !airy rebuk~s the 'King ~d his court--shoving
them bov a true Queén wuulà behav~. Throut;h the vorda ana
actions of the fairy, ~en, ~elent, the King~ and/the court
are al1 warnet about thelr f~lbi1ity a. mep, and about the
foellsh alna 'that prlàe wLll cauae.
VII. The Fount.in Mnd' the River ;
Graelent's tlrat encounter vith the talry"and tbe ackDow
leùgement of hi. Y~rtue occur be.iàe a c~eart bubb1ing tountala.
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The fairy comes out of this founta;n to bestow her gifta on
Gr~elent, but also to test hls ch~racter. The white stag, the
fOWltain, and the falry' S own prophetle powera are all indic~w.
tlans th.t Graelent ls d.e"ling with an otherworl.dly rea1m.
However, this contact with the Otherworld has not been
asked tor on his part. The Otherworld c~e, in effect, to
hi~ knd reEtoret him, Qaterial~y, to his position i~ «orldly
society. The fountain symbolizes a renewal for Graelent, but
it la a renewal on a pur~ly worldly, physical p~~e. H~ has
been Bummoned by the falry becauae of his virtues, and ahe
rewards him for theae with love and money. But she ciemands that
he continue ln his vlrtuous actions if he wisbea to continue
receiving material glfts knd her friend;tip. When he taila her,
her wea~th and love immediately dlsappear, and Graelent 1a left
a&ain to his own limited resources.
But thia tlme, Graelent ia not sorrovful because of his
poverty, but grieves insteaJ for the 108s of the fairy's love.
Life bas suddenly become me_ninglesa for him wlthout ber frieni-
ship. :Ç
~hen she Goes return to Save Graelent from tne wrath of ~ "
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the King, Graelent attempts to reinstate-h~self 1n her favor. ,
But, as ve have Been, she refuse. to have anyth1ng to do ,with t
him until they reache. t~t water boundaty between his world ù
and. ~ers.
Just as the !ountain symbo11ze4 the plenteoua wealt~ and
bounty that Graelent rece1ved for hia virtuea, ao .088 th1 • . torbiàd.en river a1gni:.fy the Ilbaolut1oJl of hi. ain, an. the
beginnins of aOnew spiritual lire. Althougb GrMelent i. tolà • 1
Dot to croas the river, Àe ia •• te~iDe~ to _0 ae t ,ahowing , 0
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absolutely no concern for his lite in his desire to be vith his
!riend. He would rather·die than be without her .nd her love.
And, in a sense, Gr~elent does die; he auccessfull~completes
t~at dkD6erouH p~s8aee between this worlà an« the o(herworld, but \
01Y~'n~cause of his lady's pit Y »nd forgiveneas. As a Christian \
i8 bSOI}CÙ of his sins when immerseà in the yaptismal font, so
i6 G~entls broken vow forgiven by bis lady when he sinks in
the river, The river, then, acts as a aymboli~ force pointing ~
to Graelent's unpardoned sin, an. bis n'a. te be exonerated an. ~
spiritually reborn.
In his attempt to cross the rivet, Graelent i8 the suppli
cant asking for help irom an otherworld that ha. reached out
to aid him before. The initial scene by the fountain was, as
noted before, a renewal scene, but entirely on a material level •
The fairy promised to reinatate Gr.elent in his worldly ~ositi.n
if he, in turn, could measure ~ to otherworldly VOW8 yna stan
dards. When he fa~s in this test, he is sud.enly made aware
01 his strong inner need for his lady and her love--without her,
his material lire meknS nothing. So when be attempts to cross
the river, be ia aIso attempting to pass out of h1mself, to o
reach the spiritual leyel on which his lady exista. But,. as in'
Christian doctr~ne. h. can only do thia threugh ber grace. He
Aas admitteà hls error, 'but 1t i8 only wh.n he evidencea his
villlngnesa to die, to'~~r.ak. his OWD vor1d, that the fairy
relents ~d granta him m.rey.
The water 8ymbolism. th.D, acte as the encempasaing symbo1 . in the poem. Grke~.nt 1a t1ret re.eve. materially at the foun-
tain, but not at bis requ.at. The aecon. reneval 16 ~ apiritual
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one. coming' only when th·ro.ugh tai~ own will Gra.l.nt 1.ma.raes
, Rimeel! complet~y in the river,_ and 8. revea1s his desire to
~1e to this world. The lady, of course, can only show mercy at
the persis~ence of her contrite lover, ~d brings him throueh ,>
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the w.ter to her land where he ia revive. and reneweà.
Graelent's N~y Day ride brou6ht him into contact with an
Otherworld t~at cave him the opportunity to attempt to c~rry
out his profesaed belief in th. àuties of love. In his talk
vith the Queen, he h~d atresseà the importunee of the n.eà for
loy~ty between lovers. ~hen the fairy offers her love, ahe
doesQso only on the condit1on that he act1vely prove thià
loyal ty. In trying to fulf1l1 the f.dry} s request, Graelent
.1scovers th~t ta d1seourse on courtly love ia one matter, to
actually uphold -ita regulat~ons 1a anotner •
Through the fa1ry, Grkelent and the court are taught ~
lesson of hum1lity and are shown hoy very vulnerable "the1r
codee and standards àre to the one foolish ain of pri.e. The >
King ~nù the eourt are chasten.d-)for their ostentat1ous, .. lei
courteous b~hav1or, an .. GraeIent ia pun1shed for-breaking hi.
VOYS, to bOith his King and hia lady. Hia sin aga1nst his Kine, \ .
and ~g~1nst the chivalric code, led to hi •• 1n aga1nst h1s lady,
anà the courtly love co... ~b80lution com.e to him when he
'evidences such~complete aorrow for the •• errora, and when he
ehovs that hia life on thi. world 1. Dotbing w1thout "th. love
he receivea from hie 1ady. Thua, through hi. contact vith th. . Il.\
_ Otherworlli, Grlllelent leMm. làb.ut hie own lim1.tat1oRs, about hov
4itf1cult 1t 1a ter a man ta tulf1.l1 aD7 .et of 1d.ala--but h ...
1. al80 given th. chaDc. to begin lif. an.v vith thi8 c enlightenment.
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Chapter VI Pearl
l. Introauction o
In the preceding chapters, we .vatched two knights attempt
to come ta tenus with their aecular codes ~nd vith thetr ovn
h~~ inperfectability. It vas necesskry, in order for theru to
reach this understanding, to be taken outaide of their rkmili~r q
worlda Rnœ placed in an Otherworld where their codes ~nd'ideal. ",
vere presented in their true light by ~ higher figure of authority, .. anà where their own mort~ conduct vas contraste. with those ,
standards. Out of·thia comparlsion Gavain and Graelent were
both enlightened regaraing their o~u natures and frailty, and
vere given a new atkrt oD'lire. Ba8ically the po~s, vith their • ,
empbasia on the chiv~lrlc wnQ courtly love codes, vere concerned
vith a wan'a relMtioDahlp with man, an. vith the neceseity of
maintaining honewty and loy~ty ut an earthly level in order to
have thewe virtu~8 at a hlgher one.
In the poem, Pe~rl, we move to a more coamic plane •. The
quostlona which torment the ?e~rl poet are all contingent on tAe ~
run&~mentkl relationahip between a Christian man anQ his God. \
Chriati~ àoctrine, or any religious àoctrlne for that matter,
has never been noted for lt. ration~lty or logic~ity. Miracles.
conflicting ~ruths, all juagmenta of GO& ar~ expectea td'be \
bel1eveà unqueatiolUnaly -by lDaIl. St. A~guat1.De stresse. time "\
and ag-in 'tbe nece8~ity or a man boll:evin~, of having fa1tb firat.
"belore he CkD unclerstan. Christiw.n c:logma--who,- ·he aaka, 1a mortal
." 0 .am to questi.n the UIlerrbg visioD aDei trutb et eternit,., 72.
- ; 72. St. Augustine, City 9.! Q2!., p. l.90.
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ID apite of the fact th.t theologiana asked men t. have
auch bl::"l:~ f:.ti th, questions conc8raug the juatne •• of God' 8 juig-
mente otten remained in the he:.trta ~nQ mini. of men. He:.tyenly
justice, as it W~B metei out on ekrth to young ~~ old, rich
aAd poor, evil knd gOOQ, could often aeem harah, brutal, ani
~bsolutely uni.ir to frail, Iimited man. The n~rrator in P~Mrl
1a 8uch a man--one who admits ovar ~Q over kgain his own weak, ;
v mort~ nature, ~ut one who wanty to unûerstand the workings of
GOQ, who wants to understand why his Pearl W:.t8 t~ken away at such
a young -6e. From a doctrin.l stan.point, h. can corupreh~nd that
God does have K divine plan anà th~t, sOffiehow, aIl Kctions,on "
e:.trth are wcrkei into thls; but how his Fearl's.de~th can help
God'e univers al ~eeign rem:.t~ns completely enigm:.ttic to his mina.
But it ia impossible for ~he narrator to BoIve this conflict
on an earthly level where he can only see his mort ... l viewpoint,
and other men'a interpretationa of God. He must effect the
tr~nBitus, he muet be brought to the plane where heaven Qnù eartb
interact 10 that the mortal and immortal, the t1nite .n4 infi-
nite can be compared ana contrastei knQ their conflict resolveà.
fflI. The Poet' s Diatresli
In the openin6 stanzau of the poem we ~re presented with a
picture ot a man suft.ring inwardly beCQua. of the l08à of a .
young c~ili, hi. Pearl. The tiret lin •• beg1l1 to give a ae8-
cription of thi. Pearl wbe~ .utlà.nly the poet cries out:, l, -
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Al~~a! l leste hyr, in on erbefe; Thurg gre.s. to groun~e hit irô me yot. l dewyne, forQulkea of luf-~~ungere ot that pryuy perle"vytheuten .pet •
, . \ 1. 9 - 12
7'. AlI quotMtiona are taken trom Pe.rl, ed. B.V. Geràon, Ox~.ri, 1966.
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, The next stanza continuee in this s~e vein, w1th the poet
lamenting the lOBS of his Pearl. and bem •• Ring th. paia a ••
agoay he now enùurea wheD he th1nk. o~ her buried 1R the earth.
For Bothe ther fleten to nie tele, Ta thenke h1r colar sa cl~d in clot. o ~aul. thou Illé.Arrea lOI. trlyry iuele, Ny priuy perle wythouten t3potte. 1. 21 - 24
In hie .nguiah, he entera the garden where ne loat his ~
Pe~rl t O~" there oefore her grave he, li.ttempts ta reaaon hiUi.sel:f'
into ~ unu.erstandil'lg of her Àeath. But still a "cieue1y l.e1e"
(l. 50) lies on hia he.rt, and hia inner distres8 refuses to
.1 give w .. y before the promptingB of reason. Through hia mortal,
and 80 limited understanding, the poet is trying to pull himse1t
out of this etate of desp",ir; but he 18 S8 .8~~ly ~:f'ecte. that
neither reli.son nar the comfort that Nature otters through Christ
are able to relieve the, suff"ing of h1s soule 1 J
• J' Thag kynde of ~t ~ comfort kenned, My wreche. wylle~n wo _1 yraete- 1. 55 - 56
But his consciou~ mind ~à ~ill-power can bring hiœ DO co~fort
e1ther, an. he collapsea under the burden of hi a, Borrow, falliDg
into uncon8ciousness on her grave.
l ~çlle vpon th.t floury flkgt, Suche o~our to wy~hernes schot; l slode vp~n a slepyng-slagte On th.t precios perle wythout~n
III. The Vision
Bpot. 1. 57 - 60 ; ,
Taia al •• p kA. the reeu1t1ng vision have been granted to
him through tbe mercy knU grace ot G04. The Otherworlà 18
reMching out to toucn Mn. b.Ml this tormente4 man, to briDg
anawera to hi •• earchiag ain., t. briDg him ceDa.lat1.a.
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Fro spot my upyryt ther aprang in epace ,.ly body on b;,ùke ther boa in Hweuen. Ny goste la ~on in Godes griolce In auenture ther weruayles meu~n. 1. 61 ~ 64
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Throuch hia sleep the poet la t~ken out of hiDlcelf, iu trana
porteù to th~t otherworlcily re~ where hi8 own thougat. anci
internal ~chings Cw~ be objectifieù anà seen in a clearer light.
Thia Otherworlù he entera la, of courue, strange tG him "
(hia firet couuuent upon arrivk.l ia: "1 ne wyate ln this worlde
quere th~t hit'v~ce." (1. 65», but la also bre~th-takingly
beiolutiful. Tall cryatal cliff a riae ab ove him, ana the fere.t
clietens blue ~nd ail ver. The grounù ia covere. with pearls,
~d all the tr~e8 bear v~ried and deliciou~ truite
This garden i8 Ede~, the e~rthly pk.radise, ioluà its àewcrip-
tion 18 in 4irect contriolst to that of.the garden where the poet'
fel18sleep. In the earthly garden, wh.r~the Pearl lay buriei,
8ummer flowera bloome4 brightly in the Bun. But the month i.
Auguwt, ana the flowera must seOD die--their cel.rful b1 ••••••
---vill turn brown and f.ll to the earth.
Plor and Ther hit }o'or ver. l~o whet'e
fryte ~~y not be fede doun ~rof in wolàes Qunne; eresse wot grow of gr.ynes vere elles to wones wunne.
dei.; 1. 29 -: 32
It iG, of course, part of the nk.tural cycle--llfe ia dependent
en .•• ~th. The earthly garden wh.re the Pearl'. bTuve lie. 1.
ot th1. vorlà, and 1e therefore fille. vith the eph.mer~l anR
traDsitory. Pearl bad live. but twe years bef.re finQing Aer
tomb in the g~rQen; -the t1ewer. 11ve but en. ahort •• a.o. o
bet.re tv.à1ag an. àying
But wh11e tae tirat gar.en ~a .eMcribe. in term. et bot.
11t. ~à aeath (there th. cel.r • • t tb. f10werM "bl~yke an •
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ilnà blw. IUlci recie If (1. 27) are contrastect wi th -the comiDg brownness 1
of dec .. y, and "gr~ynes 4eie" ,(1. 31r>, the garden that the poet
visl ta in his vl.sion ie !i11eà. wi th the colers of immortal.l tj'. ~
The c1if!8 are h~rd enàuring crystal ani aIl around sparkle
the cteep blues, colas ~a silvers denotlng eternity. H.re
evoerythltng 18 f~ei, nothinc ch~ges: Oi.nd. the tempora.l worl"
w~ tb i ta cyclic:.ù. nècessi ty aeems 'far away.
As the poet wanQers through this marvelous l~i he come.
to the b:..nk of a brotl. clear atream. The water f10wa with a
gentle whisperine souna, and in the river bottom stones sparkle
1ike 8t~rB in the nieht-wky.
This
life
In the founce ther stonden stones stepe, As glente thu,rg &las tlt.t gloweci ... nd e1ygt, As 6tre~anae sternes, quen strotne-wen slepe, Staren in welkyn 1.n wynter nYGt. 1. 113 - 116
~ " river la, as the poet aoon finds out, the barrier between
.na de~th, between him and bis Pe1?rl, between the morta!
and imroortal, between "the highest viB~onary experience in this
world, and the perfectly illumineà. existence of the transcend.e~t
owor1fi." 74.
The be .. uty of the surrounchngs soothea the p.et·., tormenteci
spirit ~nct re1ieve hiQ of his over-powerln6 sorrOW8. lie walka
t.aift. the .tre....m, "bowe. in bIya," his "braynes br •• ful"
(1. 126), .nQ the further he WlUlcters the more joy at1rs his
h.~rt--Just the mere touch of Eàen retucea ~ m.n'w aufIeringa. t' "
But the poe~ nut1ces that whi1e th. lan. in whlch he wMlka 19
fair an .. levely, the c.untrywi •• on the oth.r aide et the ,
.tr.am 111 even aoore be~utiful IIIJui enticing, an .. he 1. :fUle"
74., P. Plehler, The Vlaionary L~nà8c@pe. p. 148. il
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with ~ ye~rning to cross th~t w~ter.
Ëorthy l thogt th.t .P-..r.d.ys8 ~_ts ther cu~r 5~yn thQ bonk~B br~Àe. l hope~ the ~_ter ~ere • deuyse Byt ... ene myr'thes by Ill"res mw-de; Hycunae t~e broke, by slente other s1~de,
. l hope'l th .... t "lote ILe rkeo. ..... ore. • Bot the w~ter·w~tB ciepe, l ~orat not wude, And euer me lonli~d .. y lùore ana l1;.ore. 1. 137
He pursueu' his ae ... rch beside th1a river, ~ooking for
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144
III s.fe
pl.ce tu ford the streillID, but the Qaneere only increa8e. ~ile
continuing in this manner, he happene to see on tne other side
of the stream a child sitting bene~th III crystal cliff, anà
su~ienly he realizes who she is.
l knew hyr wel, l h.de sen hyr ere. 1. 163
iihen she st.nas up ;.mQ begins ta wùk toward the~strelà.ID,
the poet is overcome with ~zell.lent; he camnot believe th ... t he
Bot baysment eef myn hert a brunt. l Bee hyr in 50 atrange a place, Such ... burre lllygt make myn herte blW}t. 1. 174 - 176
The maiden, ciressed. entirely in gliatening'J.whi te and adorned.
vith pearls, walks to the eùge oi the ri~er ~d greete the p.et. ~. )
1-lortal Iîtnd immertlÙ pl_nes h.ve met all9.,,are, momentarily, inter-, \ : .. lockeà.
IV. The Di~lof{Ue
It ia aorDSS the r'iver, this iLlpaasable barrier, that the
p.et converses vith bis Pe.rl an. attàins some UDÀ.r8tandi~g .t
" ber tieath an. of m~'s mortality, .n. receives tb. needeà CODS.-"
,lat1on. .1111e th. vater IIlCtS as a ppyslcal .force .epar~tiDg the ,-"
p.et illlti bis Pearl," i t al.se representa a ,p1.ri tua! p.wer, "YIIlQ.-
11z1ng the c.ming en1ightenmeat wnQ renewal et the p.et. Over ~
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the River of LiÎe,' the poet le~rns the lesson, the paradox wh:kch
th_t q1e~~ sr~rk1ing w.ter encorupaeses.
when the poet b7eeto t~e Pe~rl m~iden, the firet woràs he
utter3 expres';:3 hi~ ci.isbelief in i:leeing h~r ~g:,u.n.
'0 perl~', quod I, 'in perle~ py~t, Art tho1J. my perle that l Il.! pl ... yneà?' 1. 241 - 242
. He then rel~tes tp ,her the gr1ef that he hge en~ured ~fter
losine her, .nu marvels that she c.n. be here in Paradise, seem-
ingly untouched by his ~Bonl.
.
'Pensyf, p~yrea, l .m\forp~yneù, And thou in a lyf of lykyn(; 1YCte, In Par~~ys erde, of stryf vnstr.yneù~·~ 1. 246 :- 248
He accuses., "wyrde" (1. 249) lof having sto1en her from him and
4 of causine him this~ p.inful ~ffliction.
It ia app.rent from this first speech th.t the task before
the Pe.rl maiden ia une of reconc11i~tion: ahe ~ust bring the
poet ,to .n un~erBt_nuine of Got'Q w±~l ~nù judgment. Her reply, "'1 ,
then,to his excl~ations .nd ~ccus_tions, ia aimed .t m.king the
pOft re~ize "that hie complaints .re misGiirectea. 3he tells
him that he never owne. the pearl, nnù therefore, cilà. not "lOBe
one. .All th.t he re~ly lost waB a rose: " ,
.1 • For tbk t th ou lel:iteos w.ts bOt "a rose Th,it flowred knQ f.ylea. .8 rkyncie hyt eef.· 1. 269 - 270
• <
~ And. tbkt "wyrd.e" which he con:..;iùerB a thief, bas 'turneci the " b ~ •
mort.l roue into the perfect, ellfluring Pewtl.'
, • ~d thou h. ts c.11eci thy wyrcie a thet That ogt of nogt h~ts mM~ the c~r.· , , 1. 273 - 274
Th&~~krl mk1d4n 10 .~ntli tryLn~ to make the~p.et come to , ~
C>
tenlS ",1 th the, nW. ture of Ilortali,ty, to IIlkke h1m a~eept the '~.llIlon ',",
c.n.it1.~,.t kll meR; but ber task le net an e&&y one" ~. th. \. 1 J •
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poet's anewer ta her speech .iecleaea:
'Iwyse', quoci 1. 'lJ.ly blysfol b..,ste • My grete dystresJe thou ... 1 toar .... ":es. To be excused 1 LL • .ke re'lue~te; 1 tr.wed my perle ~on out of d .... ~es. Now h~f 1 fonde hyt, 1 sch.1 ~a feste, And w~ny wyth hyt in Behyr wod-ech~wes, NlÙ loue -wy ~urue .,na ... 1 bis l:...wee Th.t h.tR ~~ bro~t thys blys n~r.
, Now were 1 at yow bygonde thise wawes, 1 viere • ioy ful jueler.' 1. 279 - 289
Pe~rl le, n~turally. completely .stop1shed by hiu speech. She
qulckly points out ta him the fo11y of his thouGhts and,tells
him' he h~s committed three mist~kea: 1) he thinka she 1s physi
clÙ.ly ln the v.lley beC;,tuse he C:.i.n see her with his eye; 2) he ,
thinks he cau st.y vith her in thls l~nà; 3) he wwnts to cross
over the water (1. 295 - 300). The Pearl maiden then att~IDpts
to 1nstruct hl.ll1 in what his proper attitude toward Àeath shoul.
be • '-'
Flrst, sne wwrns him about trusting in wh .... t the fleshly / ' eye can see--it will only le~d him to pr1de ~d 8~n. Seconàly, t~
she -t~l.ls him)~that only, those who God calls ~re alloweti to stay ~ , -
in ~ha~'ëount~y, _~ crosa over the river.
) The poet refusèB to accept the impoBsibility ?f cr.osing
the w~ter. He,aees his Pe~rl nQW, &nd he w~t8 to atay wlth ber;
he wi~ not return to the anguish ana pain he sutiere. before.
'Demea thou me'~ qUOR l, 'my 8wete, T. dol K~.yn, thenne l àowyne. J Now hat l fonte th~t'I forlete, 'Schiltl l efte foreo bit er .uer l fyne?' 1. 325 - 328
But the Pearl maïàeD te11e him tbat &11 hi8 crying ~à teara
w~1.1 Ilot cluUl~e the juu.gment of G.i. ,Uj 1~ not ~he ollly ,d""'~-h '; t,: ' ~- A , 1
~, -", wh. hi"'~, ever. autfe,r#'t ~. ~8 aJlger, will att.e1lt Jloth1ng. ~Ir: ! co ~ /"-
woul:.' be b.tter to"r hlm.t. love G •• , "in, vele w.nti we" (~. 342) ..
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!~no nedes sch.l thol~, be not 80 thro. For thog thou d~unce as _ny do, llrauno.jsch ~d br.y thy br .. thea brewe, When thou no iyrre,may, t~ ne fro, Thou moate ~byde th~t he Boh.l deme.' 1. 344 ~ 348
She _dhloni~hes him to turn ta Goa fer spiritual comfort an~ /
r~lief from hio suf!er~ngs rnther th.n trying to reach out
for ~ phys1c~1 ~e~lity tn~t ia n. mo~e. If he asks God for
mercy, she counaela, his .eonies will be assuageà. \
'3tynt of thy strot and fyne to flyte, Ani'B~ch hye blythe ful swefte anù 8wythe. Thy préAyer m .. y hys pyté byte, That IJercy sCi"\.l hyr craftes kythe. Hys coù.forte üllity thy lW1gour lythe And thy lures of lyetly ilewe.'
o
1. 353 - 358
It w.s through Gad 's grace th~t the p.et receiveà: the visicm
of P~r ... ùise, ..ne!. his Pearl,. But now ~t i8 necessary. if he ia
ta be cOlllforted, for him to ask for God' s mercy, to aùmi t his
hum~ frailty .nd his nee_ for aivine he~p. AnQ the poet ciees
present <il' rllore ~umble tleu.eôàIlor when he turns to question the
Pew.rl DI~iden IoIgain. He h ... " be~n 8o",ewh~t t ... ken aback by her
stern woràld, but he ÔIlcknowledges his error anà; tor the tiret· 1
time, in~teaù of trying to make ~ clalm on ber 1mmort~1ty, he
&d~lts hie iIDperfections and weaknease& as a man.
'1 am bot w@l ~nd m~neres mys ••• ' , 1. 382
R.ther than the e""t,;er prealünG feeling that he f.1rat ftviclencea.
he ia now Bomewhat ch~steneà, an~ he·askd her to tell h1m .f the
life she leads in Fara~iBe. Their dialogue passes inte more
t~eoloeicwl matters, vith the poet hav1ng di!f~culty cecpre-!
hending h~Hhe c~ .be a Queen of He~ve~ ana a Bride of the
LeilUb when she ciie" s. yV\.U1e:;. Uer Illls ... er i8 giv'en throueh 'tho " ( .
parable of the vineyarlla. . Dut a~1n the' poet ••• a .a.t UIl •• r-- ~
1 •
.r f
,._-~-~---------_ ....
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st ... nti. a.IHI it ia apparent from his mit:dnt~rpretation of the pw.r
able t~_t he atill resent& the decrees of G_d. 75. Be chuoses
to believe that God rewarcilil "vchen kS hye d.e'aserte" (le 595) anlit
that men who h.v~ live~ lon6er ~n~, therefore, suffere~ more on
eal,th tho..n those whose l.~ves en~eu at a young ~t;e, shou1.do be ,11
Si ven llAort'! recoClpense in heaven. Bu~ the Pe ... rl m:.t.iden points'
out th~t in "Goùea rychè" (l~ 601) therè la neither more nor
less rew.r .. , th ... t aIl who come to he~ven receive the 8 ... e blisil
~nd the same crown. She then tells him that she le eapecially
teservin~ of ht'!;&ven' 8 rewar&a, 'because alle !i!. "ie 80 'young: ,
'The innosent la ay saf by rygt.' (l~ 684) {;
As ùifficult ~B 1t ia for mortal m~ to understanù, tho~e
1
souls' who p .... B3 .way !oit iII young age are~particul ... rly pleasing to
G~d becauae they h~ve not been Boi1.ed. in the earth's w~ys. It
la better she t~lls him ta p~ss into Heaven without having to ,
contenà with, the perils .. nu. temptations that li(e,cn earth pute
in the w.y of m~'s soule It:ie ao hpr~ lesBon, and it ia a
lesson th/llt C;iLIl c.)uly be acceptecl trom the premiae of :ràl th" flret.
Just .sr,the jucigmen-ts that G~ p~DSt:S on men' s lives cilnnot be
lookt'Q. ... t kS unfair or unwkrrknted~' neither eall the rewarà.s that • , He glves out .in Heaven be questloned. The 1aws of th. Etetnal
are inco~pre.enaible to mktt /Ilnt ~l th.t maD can .0 1 ••• mit
bis IIlQrtali ty. hie, weak and E!inning nature, anel prit y to Got fer
grace an. mercy.
v. The V1Kion of Jerusalem
~ , .hen the theoloeicàl àiscu8ei.D en •• , th. poet aBka b.r t.
- J1
75. lan BisA.p, Pe~rl p. 80.
• . ().
-76-
-tell him .bout the he~venly city of Jerua.lem in which she lives. ,
She replies th.t throueh per.miaaion of the L~mb he will be
granteci ~ vision ef this RU,Irvelous city anci ita inhabitanta; ~
but he ~ust st~y on his aide of the river, and he cannet enter , . the city's ~~tes~ Then the poet sees the sp~rkling walled city
of Jerus~lem sitting in aIl its elory on the top of ~ far hill. 1
The a.escription follows th.t of John'a Hevelatione, ~nl. the
,poet stanu8 in ... méiizement at the grandeur and beauty of' th1e &ight.
l stod ~s stylle .8 ~_~e. qu.yle, For :t'erly of th.t fre--lich fyr,ul'e,
~ That felde l n.wther re~te ne trau_yle, So wats l r~uyste wyth glymme pure. 1. 1085 1088
As he stanÀs there, in awe of this won~rous sieht, the
angelic procession begins.., with aIl the virgins in their gOll'llB ,
of white and. pearls doing honor to their Lord, the Lamb. The
p~et then sees this gentle L~b with His bleeding s1lle. The
beauty of the c1ty, the joy of its ~nh~bitant8, ~n. the meek ,
appearance, of its Lord. overwhelm the poet, and he can ne longer
res1st his Qeep inner yearnl.lJg ·t~ be wi th them, Wlld t. be w i th
hie Pearl.
l lokeà among his meyny 8cllene How thay \-:;r th lyf ...... em l~ste an .. laàe; Then sl,I.g ·1 ~ther my lyttel" quene That l wenùe 11a(,1 atandf"n by,me in Bclade. Lorde, è.ucit of mirthe w.ts that h.o môi~e Among her feres taat w.ts 80 Quyt! That SYbt me eart to thenk tG 'Wilae for lut'-lonGyng in gret d.elyt. 1. 114~ - 1152
He tor~et. the lesBon et his Pearl anà ~er warnin~ anà he
tr1ea to cross the river. He .teps into the water, not caring
if he l1ve. or .i88 (1. 1160); but hi. lite 1a not hi. te j.
away w~th, .u). hi. plunge enly land. hill back in the earthl,y
1
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Bot 'of th.t munt l w~ta bit~lt; ~hen l schulde st_rt in the ~trem kstraye, Out of th.t c~ste l w.ts byc_lt: lUt wate net at .y Prtncès paye. 1. 1161 - 1164
-77-
So the peet ia once again in his Garden with the 11ttle
gr.ve 'that hold.9 his Pearl. He h .... s be~n ei ven a wond.erful
vision, h .... s seen his Pearl to be .... iue anci happy, and has learneci
a gre~t Qe~l ~bout his Qwn n~tur.. But rather th~n rejoicing,
the poet beeins to l~ent ae~in. 'This time, however, hisosorrQw
18 for the lo~w: of 'tlle vision ~ weil a8 fer his Pearl.
VI. Th~ Pe~rl'n L-sson ~nd the Poet's L~ent
c
The sorrow of the poet at the end. .f tbe poem ia directeà
. at aeverù 4thines au., 'while i t 1s not ch~r .... cter1zea by a great
" .utp~urin5°of fe~ling _nd diatress as Wae hJQ f1rat l~ent, it . /
reflecta ~OBt a aeeper pain and. anguisht: the pain tluJt comès
trom having to admit that man ia 2imiteu, that his will and
aesireH ~ean nothing in the f .... ce of greater c08D1.1c law.. wnen
he awakes in the garden he immecliately :f'~l.la into "gret affr~1"
(1. 1174) as he re~embera his wonderful d.ream, ana w1th a aigh
he s .... ys:
'Uow al be to tha t Pryncea pé\Ye'. 1 •. 1176
- His att1 tuà.e ,bâts ereatly ch.weeà; no longer 1a be a maD wi th a
nvreche'" wy11e" (1. 56) refusing the cunao1ation er!ereci by
reaaon ana the comf.rt of Christ. In8teaà hia thoughta are~ , 6
à1recte4 at wnat ne ~s a man mMy à. t. ple~.& Chr1st. 1· He
a",a accepte. the advice of the Pearl lIai.en lin •. wil1 no longer
!ight aga1nst "hat G •• ha. àecreeà.
But th1. ..e8 Dot prevent bim trom 81gh~ over the 108s of
\ u
; ' 7f,'.'1. Ib1 •• , p. 79. '\ ' '--( } '\
1,
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the fHir dreau-f,arden. The v1vid 1emor1es of his dream·cause
'0 perle', li uod 1, '01" rycIJ. .ccnOWA' ';0 w • .1. to h~:' :..~ ...:. ::re th:::. t thou r:!on ÙL:~t= ln thio:. vt::r..J.,j avysyoun! If h~ 1; üc.: 1.:1er;.I.j' hfh.l sotH berUloùr, ièl<it tUOIl .~ù ~1;~'.r{«!S in t..;ëJ.r.i[.I.no~ Chi. JG ~.el l.ti Le ..1.11 tllyë \lOt:.L-U.(JUI .. t~OUn 'l'n:-:.~ t •• ù .... u1 t tu -;" .... 1. ... ry~.~,<:.:3 j)ê.1ye.' 1. 1l~1 - 1108
octHH Ud~ ~n tae l)ee;~nH~ng, of tue t'ueLl 'tl~e poet t;;r:Leveu LJocau:..e "
oi t~l(; ~<ArtHl'y ~epar..J.tion of h~:;:.stJlf anu the l-earl IUaiaen, now
. he Iilo:ms over ,their sp~ri tUél1 separation. He realizes tllè:1t hEfl'--
ls the one \\ho i8 tHe exile, the or.e who i3 in pr1son, ..J.r.d that
the r'edr~ ll.a~uen ls aC1iua11y free. Wh~le her carthly (~rave seenle , '
to be li torco 1l!!pr~soning her, uctual.iy ~t is a sign 1.hat ohe 1s t
free frm,. the toils and perils uf the world, unù is slife at
horLe with her Lord. It waô the realiza tian al' h1S own exile
that caused the poet to e:ttempt to cr013S the stream, to try to
reach nis true home.
But in sa aoL'1e, he cou:'l1i tted the very sin whieh the Pearl .. Llaidcn helll continually warned him oi throughout their talk.: the
,
sin of tS0in6 uginst (iod'o decrees. lIer whole lesson had been
one 01' caritas, of love that i8 outwurdly dlrecteù, of love
Whi~h soeks to please God. HiS stepping into the river, however,
Wfil:J an hCt of cupidi tas; in deslring to take his own li;,~e and
to achieve tlie ?araùisnl realm he went completely agl\inst the (
ordninmeIfts of God.
This step into the forbidchm strewu WliS not his. only l'tet
o~ cupiIil1,tf'os; throuehout the poec he cOIW1tt~d this -error '.in
Aever~l ways: there ".-as h1s mlsunderstnnd1ng of Pearl's death
which' ,caused him to resent the work1n60 of nu ture and God;
his' thou6htlesu ulUlouncement that he would .stay in l'urudlse-
... (T,--
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with her; his envy over 11er reward in heaven; and his interpre-
tatiQn of the vineyard porable. - This problem of cur1ditas
l>lat..~en hll n.ozotals, for i t is exact1y as the poet says:
nnt ay wolùe u;'tn of h:,,-!>i,e Llore "llfmte ?hen IJoGte by ryGt vpon hem c1yuen.
" ,
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1. 1195 1196
In orùer to riu hir.melf of his feel::'ngs of cup1di tr.l.s t the poet
lllUSt learn to bccome a peClrl; in order to purchase that pearl
of ~reat !)rice, he must, p!irH,ùoxic1ü1y, bécon.e one. 77 • It i8,
us Ian 13i8hop notes, necessary, if a man 1s to obtain the peHr1,
for him to "underco a subJective tran:.;formation into ~oIûething
thHt Llé!y be priz~d by Goù; cupidi tas must gi ve place to
cari tas. ,,78. ?his trannforl'J:.ttion Cé:n only COIne about if the
poet i.u:i t~iteB the act.ions Hnll virtups of the Pearl maiùen, namely
!ler innocence and Inunili ty. 79. These are the quali tie,o which ~
re!'re~ent the standard of the Otherworld; and it i5 ae;ainnt this
\, atanùo.rù that the poet has tiecn ueasured. Through his vision f '
his ow-n nat\u:e '",ao objectified, and weiehed against the Christian , \
1ùealo--hnd 'a marked ù1screpancy between the two 'WHS revealed. -'
The poet wU:J warned about the flaws in his character and Wc:.lS ,
cl'tustioe.l for not hceU1nt; this wJ·~rning; but he waB a.loo·, eiven
'tire oPi,crtuni ty to correct lus ways t to beBin an~w.'
VII. ~oya.bolu o.f Ret~er4eration--The Poet' 8 He:le\o:al
~he L1ajor lesson which the poet 1earns i8 that he m'.Jst \
8QCept God's judl;:tnent and not fieht against Divint: d1ctates. ~ "'
~his involves, as wè h~ve ne~n, learnin~ the distinction between ,
cupid~tas and car1tulJ. .dut ,it alao involvea leR.rning to p.ccept
71. ~., p. 96. 78. Ibid., p. ~6.
79. Ibid •• p. fJ1.
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the paradoxical nature of the worlt: that ùeath and .ec~y kre
r lif b " t 80. neceasary or e anu eau y.
Throue;hout the peem iAl"6es .-r cleath are ceunterbal.anceci by
thoae of life. The description of the earthly gar.en ~mpha8izes J Q
the rot Qnd liecay th .... t wil.l lÔlltèr proo.uce bright flowera. It
ia, in f .... ct, these thoughts of tlea.-i matter biving new l.i!e that
bring the peet to hia lltmentation. Fer in the brown earth liet:t
his little girl, her bgciy rottin~ away, but in the process
causing an'abundance of freeh flowera ~d spices. ~
On huyle ther perle hit tren~eled ~oun Sch .. ~owed this :.Jortes ful Bchyre .... mi sChene, Gilofre, ~nl~re .DA groœylyuun, 1t.nd pyonyu }.Joi\à.ereci ay bytwelle. 1. 41 - 44
The uu...l nlilture of he .... venly justice, delll:.tnding aa i t ci.es àeath
from so~e in order t~ give life to others, c~ot at thia peint .'
be'comprehen.eà by the p.et. His he ... ~cl mina r~bel ag.inet
this as much as tliey fieht against the "wyrd.e" which took bis
Pekrl away. .hat he must come to realize ia tba t cieath ',is nÇ)t . ~
•
an eml--thlilt it cloea betoken new l,ife, both physical ..n. IiPiIitu:II.l.
The splritual à.ream-jQurneY of the poet t. Paradise ·is one
way in which he 18 brought to an unuerst~lding .r he .... ven~y jus
tice. It la only by leaving his bo.y-and this earth, by pa.siDg
out of himself, that he 18 ~b1e to look ~t the spiritual, tlivlne ,;
sl.e .t th1a pr.blem. ,.Whil. on earth be coulù on1y se. the
gra8tlY 8lountl J'biell enclose. his peMrl, -lm. 8igb .ver hi. phys
ieal 1.8.. _He vas Ilueh t •• attache. to vorl"ly matter. to be --
able te 8~~ their apirltual"meKnlng. Bv~n ~hen he1tirat .ee8 --" ,
the Pearl maitien ln Heaven, h. C~ enly thlnk"1n terma et l
80. c. .:oorll1~ , "The Role t1iàdl§ J.!n4iai\. fe,i!r~
of the Harrat.r in Pewrl," in The e 1 t ca E.H~fl ••• , J. c.~ey •. p.
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,
fleshly, phy~ic~ aight, &nt for this Ilimit.tion he is chaitieeà
by the-Pearl ~aiden. He must le~rn, she tellâ h~,Cto see with
his ~piritu~l inner eye if he iH to wlùeratand his n~ture from
~he process, then, which the poe~ undergoes, oeginning with
the JreétDl-vision, ie one of spiritu .. l rebirth and r~newal. de
.tands .. s a catechumen on the rive'r bank receivine knowledt;e of
Christi.n ductrine from an ane~lic aoul. But the re&! enlight~n
~ent cum~s only when he otepa ~nto the river. The vlsion its~lf
points to the ~~t that the' p~et will receive some type of renewal
kni illuwin~tion, .n. the .1alogue acr088 the River of Lif~' ~ ,
serves ta beishten this expeetation •. But belore the, poet C31l be ,)
teucheci ~nci hea1.ed inwarcily, it ls necessary that the Pearl
mé.l.icie,n inatruct him in the matters of spiritual rebirth. She
.oes this fïrst by ,explaining to him the nature of ber own death • ..,
Like tpe other flowera in the garden, ;,She )la. be~~ a mere rose \
and so waJ5 cioomeci to physical àew.th anc"" decay. ~d. -ahe ~:t'cl.
accorcling to this n~tural cycle, fade, wither, an. die. But
this physical death brought nbout a spiritual tran.for~ation:
the wilted rose w.s mir~culously turned'1nto ~ 8moeth, :roun~
pearl, th~ ùelllà chilù ree.ive. li.fe eternal..
3~1~rly ~he remin~ him e~ the cruci!ixio~ e! Jesus, Mn. ~
of hov his phy.ic~ 8orrow aRa mis.r7 br.ught Dew 8p1r.1tual li!e ,
te mankinQ.(l~ 649 ~ 660). when Je.ua Va. lance. vith the epear,
v.ter an. ble.a 1
both fl.we. from his w.un«, an« vere 81cna. ... \ :
bap~1a. kD~ et ~e.urr.ct1oD aD. ~ertalit7. 'The bl •• YU8.bogt fre bale of helle Ana aelyuered vue ef the .eth a.coUDae; The v~ter 1s b~ptem, th. s~the to telle,
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That folgeci the glayue ~G grymly ~~.un.e, That waschea away the gy'l:1;eH felle
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That ~dam,wyth inne deth vus drounde. 1. 651 '- 656
The vegetation im_&8S, the ~e~~l'B le8~on, ~. the bkrrier of ~
water ",re :.&.11 indications that the par'au.ox which th~y symbolize ,}
will be ~~tively experiencej by the poet. The water ~t once b
betokens the Bep .... r~ tion < of time and eterni ty, of lIlortal ami
~ immortal, as w~ll as the reconcili .... tion th.t c~ be 8chievet \
between them. It i8 a sign of an~ a metaphor for the poet'a
comirl'g renewal and. spi~i tuaI illumin~tion.
The lesaons in which the Pearl maiàen ~n8tructs the peet t.
are, as l have indic:.&.ted., 8101il ... r to those a catechW!len tloulct
rece,ive before uunersion in the baptisL.lal font. But unlike the )
catechwaen, the p'oet io expressly forbiè,den to atep in'to the
w~ter. The vision of Jerus ... Iem which toll.wB her 1esson, reaults
in the poet'o realization ef his own earthly life as actu4i11y
being one of àeath. He ia an exile, a stranger on eart~. but
the River of Lite will brine h~m home. However, ta croas the ~
"
river he u.uat physci:ally c11e, anà the lessClD of the Pearl maiàen
exprestily foro1ùs h~ to QO this. lier lnat~ct1ons are iirected
at a man living in this worlu, knd at ~ man who mus~-continue 1
1
that eart~ly life for éome t~e. She assureÀ him th~t physica~
Àeath br1ngs on1y joy ant re~l 1ife, but ahe al80 showe him
that a wan can~ave apiritua1 lite on·earth il he aumits his . .
frailty .nâ ib~orance as a man, accepts Goà's judgments, an.
11~e8 a lite pleasing t. G04.
The p.êt'ü tatal .tep int. the river deea, et èeurse, g •
.1rectlY aca1nst ~l theoPearl _a1ùen'a le~B.n8. But 1t ~80 1
gives hill a àeeper aw"reneal:J an. an actua.l know1edg." ot what '.
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"'"' ahe h ... d trie1J. t. expla1n to hia. His h.sty step, rather than
brin&int::; the ueaired. heavenly life, returns him to the toil and
sorrow::> of th~~ world--~ t i8 a c~là bucket of ·w;...ter t. his heOirt
~.J. minù.. Upon w-wlÙCing he baae.diately resllzes his error .mci
slt;;ha that everythilLg h4ppenB :..ccor4ting ta God. 1 e w111 .. -he ia, .
at l.st, resi&ned to his fate. He a.lilG ~cknowled&e8 the joy &.lld.
free~om of the Pearl maiQen as oppoae~ to the ~.rthly prison he -()
must end.ure.
, But the spirit}l:..l illWllln ... tion he exper1ences la not
~erely this reslenatlon to G •• 'a will which he now feels; rather,
it 1& extended. lnta his active worl~ly life'. He, now will try
ta do the things th .. t are pleasing to Goù., ~d. will not Qes1re
more than ia his dUe.
To that Prynces pwye hade l ~y bente, And. yernea. no J:lore then lV.ta llle gyuen, An~ h~l~en me ther ~n tl~e enten~, As the perle me prayed that W.t3,SO thryuen. 1. 1189 - 1192.
And be<;:.u!;e 01' these wctions, and. becaut3e of his accept~.nce of
Go.fs juagment, the poet receives co~~or~ .nci b1esslngs irom hi.
Lord.
To p~y the' Prince othe~ sete sagte Hit i~ ful ethe, to t~e goJ Krystyin; For l ha! !ounùen hym, \bothe .~y mt1 na~te, A GOG, _ Lor~e, a frenuf Iu1 fyin. 1. 1201 - 1204
Tbroueh his vi~ioD the poet va. 1ifted eut of hiase1f anà
pl~ceà 1n Mn othervorlfly realm where h1e .~ .ortal(n~ture waa compare. with the atauclartl8 et Christian per!ectien. Th.
o • •
~ver of Lite preventet him from re~ching .ut ~t gre •• iIy
grabbing wbat vas Dot his t. taxe; but 1t &180 111~1ne. aRA
renewelll hia. Hia ap1r1 tual L'Perience
& ir •• h .tart, s. thai he CO~à'trT. to
brou&bt h1a a new beg1mt1ng.
vork tor the eternal ~ife.
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l. The Th~me of R~new.1
The theme of rene..,..~l w:. g, as ve havf! seen, central to
al1 three poems d~scuHweà. ThrouGh contact with v.ter, thé ""
heroes were ioment.ri1y tr~nsporteù out of themae1ves, 111u-
mined ~d then 8piritually reborn. From. psychologie.l Bt~nŒ-
point, thia tr_n3forwat~on cerreRponds to • r~-structuring of
the st.nJards .um iàe~s in the inàivJdual mrn~. Often the
geals of a m.n and his society become blurred, so that it is
neces~iary th.t they b~ obj~ctifieai in oràer to be secn again :Ln ~
a truc persp~ctive. In the pgerus, the projected. Otherworld con-
tained within it the perfection to which the her.es tri~i.to
attain. Dy tr-.nscending thecselvea Ci.nQ. their Bocietiea, the
prot_gonists vere ab;l.e to touch tnis perfect 01.herwurld, -..ni
se sust.in md reneli wi thin tbemaely,es' the ,,-VIÙ~~s whicb they
profcsaeà. J Peetry which h.s such rebi.J"th as one of its major themes,
usually has .n equal e~pha.~i8 on aea.th and decay. In uedieval
poetry, this Cl...lph:.ls±s t:;rew out of the Christ1i1ln contempt for the
world ~ Just as the counter wotif gt rebirth à..evelope. from the ,
~Chrl.tiall ioctrine·' ot the reaurrectieza. The twe thellca are
absolutely iDt.rloeke~, but the feeling et renewal la th. ORe
that prev.il.: the mere existence ef the p.~. itaelt be1D& an
un.eniab~e affircatloD ef'~lfe.
Leek el~oer at l'oetie eXQmples of the tlàeath Willb~, kil. ,,'l:~' yeu will., tiee tb.t th.e eya.bolic el ... ying of MD old. ael!
.,,18 eou.plellt,entea. by tAe emereenee ot a new ae~f. In !;iet, \ even thau~h every :.Action Il.lhi person 1n the plo, le. dewnvarde, we ehoul. t~n. ~n·.8.ertion of làentlty' in "the
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, '-85-
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constructive Ilct of the poem itsel~. (81) ")
creative 'impulse, , P'
Peetry, be~ng'~ one of the pred.~cta of man' s
neceB:3~rily expre~sei3 .il aeclarw.tion in ~:.avor of life. 'The
poet t~kes the m~tter of his world ~n~ society, pr.ject. it
throuch ill. ... tse .. na symbol ~nto str .. nb~ fiction.ill re:.llls, :rn.â. ~
fro~ this projection gives ru~n .il new perspective on himoelf ~n~
hie universe. He is, tG.il gre .. t ciegree. like the eods-01 .1. -, who peri~d.ic.lly 8ub=er&~d the earth in the primaI w.tere 11 or.er to eive i t renewed kIl. purifiee. life,. , , Ke~eth ~urke, in
" referrine to Coleridge' s remark that pOe-:try 1a "a dim ana:l~gue_
of creation, ,~' makea the observatj.l.on:
In human ~ctiVi~y, however, this proceSH ~f cre~tion involves not lUerely il! Ilt .. kiug but a ret!itkine. (62)
..
Poetry iB thus Hot BO much crewt10n as 1t ia re-cre~tion. It
ilU.~in~rively ob~eqtifies ~.iln'B spiritu~ ~d ethica~ n_tur~, j ~
se tb ... t h'e-c.n come to • new un.eratan.ting of hil!self, WlGl, of
bis abilities ~. limitations.
II. Poetry :illd l'i~hphor8 (,If Transct'ndence
One of the funuunentwl experiencea of ...man, accortiing t. the '"
me~ievkl perspective, w.s that of ch.nge. ~à while )ch~g.
JUe;;'nliJ ae.th and. dec.y, it ùa. betoken., aB Gregory of Uy •••
p.inte. out, life knà rebirth. In the three poe •• , each pre-" J
1
tac.niat experience. a change in the UD.erst~àing an. kn.~le.,e \
et hi~Be1f ~. ~18 a.clety. Thia wa •• ffeete. througà a Jour~
Dey to an Otherworlt, cont~ct with the renewinc v~tere. ani a
.ab •• quent illuwin~tioD .t ~1n. anà seul. But th. renev~~ tb.t ..
01. Kel'Uleth Burke, ;Ph11eaophx !1. Lltf!rkrY Fora, 'p. 39.
82. !!?!!.., p. 99 •
{7
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•
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, f --86-
waB a(f achieve4i' .iet not touch the here only. The'v.lues an.
concerne ef the ,poen.s were central te meliieTal society as Il 'II
. whole, BO th~t the pee~ in its entirety c.ueed its audience tG ' '
undereo the SOUle experiences wmi. atruggles as those of the
hero. As a re-cre.ting, Il renewing fe~, pe~try invites its
auaience to pYrticip~te in the herota quest and fllum1n~tion,
his ch~nge ~nd rebirth.
For prl.Dli ti ve, me.ieval, and mociern man auch renewkl or
rebirth signifies ~ chiolllge in psychologie.l atioltes. Wh ether
tbr~ugh initi~tion rites, visions, or therapy sessions man
experienees :.t trloiLscenàence, ;,ma. froll tilis tr:..naeendence he is
sp~ritually reneweQ. Tbe knowledge or illuminktion th.t he
g_in~from Buch an experience uBuaIly pertains tG his role with
in the "s8ciety as Il whole. Gawain's journey te» the Otherworlli
.ià not merely affect his O~l view of himself, but toucheà upon
his entire society. 'Whatever an in~ivi.~wl learns throu~h tbeae
experienees .oes not only trQnsterm hi~, but in some vay trans
forma his\whole worl!.l. Thua, JUe_ieval peetry, by prejecting 1 ,
man to per!ec~ otherworl.l: rea~s, ~vec him a new sense of hia
pOD~tiun and. stature in the universe.
Art, like religion, 1a k Behool of tranacen.ence; it expands inJ1vidual ~W~rene8S into cosmic ayareness ••• (83)
Because ot tbeir strong Chr1at1an bkckgreunà, th. s •• i.val~
(\ were, perhaps, more concerne. vi th tran .. ce.ence than •• 11 1. /'
ether age! have beeD. The fun .... ntal 1 •• a ef reaurrect1 •• t
a~ter dowtb waa incarp.rated int. their 11~e'.D~earth ana exp.r
iene.à, aB ve bave ae'll. threugh vl.loQ. baptl •• , anà p.etr,y.
83. Arthur Ke.atler, Th. A&1 2t Creation. p. 328.
o
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•
•
-87-•
Raptism, in particulnr, is quite explicit about its relation-
ship to the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. ~he new
lire wliich Christian ÜOelaa promised to all physicall:r dead men
;could net simply be read and talked about; u~n had to actively
experience and ~x~ress thiq doctrlne in this lite in order to
understand i t. The mystie' s vision, the baptisrual sacra:nent,
and utherworldly poetry are thus all metaphors for Christian
transcendence and rebirth.
iiithin the poems, each protaeoniAt underwent this type of
tr~mscenJencc. They were transported out of themselves to
other\<;orlùly 1'1Hnes, where throuch a contact with wnter and,
thus, throut;h baptism, they experienceq a spiritual transcen-
dence and were rp.born. Anù while this transpired uerely nt a
fictional le~the pocu itself opernted in this world, inyiting
'its uudienc~ to irnaeinatively participate in the transitus that
its own hero strugCled through. The poem, then is essentially - 1
an artistic and psycholoeical devic·e; penai ttinG medieval man t
to touch the ùtherworlù and t.,o be renewed' beside the water wi th ,
the hero.
" III. '"a ter ~;I!IIbolism
.. In order for the poews to be ·coUlpletely expressive of this \
Medieval desire for
for the poet to i
would re-iteratH , .
vater-symboliflm,
it integratea the
~;cendence and rebirth, it vas necessary
certain imaces and symbols that
central idea. ThroUGh the use of
rebirtli was espec,inlly emphas1zed .• sinee
seemingly opposed" real.aa of lit. nnd ùeath.
In the poC!mo, this r.uetaph r operates on Il purely spiritual plane •
o
, ~,'
..
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•
•
--88 ...
" l
When the prota~onistB learne' of thelr sin~ beside' the.rivera, p
thelr 01' views of themselves were àissolveà an. new enea were
1nstilled: the old man died and a new one was borne Becauae of
its force bath as an ~rchetype ~nd ~a an important Christian
aYiLIbol, the water-symbolism glllve aciued tlepth 'and Ile.ning te , ,
/,/ the naQwent of resolution in each pee •• ".J'Hi. because the poellJ.s·
over-w.ll concern was spiritual rebirth, the w ... ter functioneà aB
,a structural 'evice, pointing t. the comine renewal. an. actively
particip.ting in it. As the yeell in lts entirety la a metaphor
fer transcenàence ~d ~ebirth, 50 the w_t~r-aymbolism 1a a
metaphor for the peem itself. The water ia as EUch a met~phor ,
fer the renewal ef the hero "a it ls ~ metaphor for the renewal
the poem as'a whGle' effers 1ts "kuàience. The water-symboiisil. in
the four poelils ia thus Wll aJ.l-ence.pastiing sym.b.le As the arche-
typ~l .nÀ b~ptis~~ ~a~er Àissolvea olà ferma and bringe on new,
as it betoke1l9 trmaceuÀence am. rebirth, se 1 t function. as
a met~}1hor for the cre.tüm ef p.ètry, anà fer the reD.eWal~he re-cre.tion poetry bringa to men.
IV. Conclusion
Threugh the peeœ8, me.1ev~1 herQea ana auèiences were " - 0
brgught,into cont.ct with projecteà .therwerld.s where th.Ir
val.uf:a anal •• res vere aeeu in li now ligb.t. ~leà1eY,,~ rem&llce
anà' vlaion~ry p.etry thU8 a1lqweà aecular au.lances te exaaine . the1r 8ociety'a _taniari. froc k .1atanee, an. peraitteà th ••
"
te COll. tG tera. with thelr own lialtatl.lla in try1n. t. acb1e". /
tbo.e .tan.ar.a. Th. peeas efferei _ aeana ter ae.ieval Dan t.
transe.na bimae1l ani hi. werli ana ae attain a nev •• n.. et
, a
• fi
•
•
-8,9- f
h~8elt ~. bis purpo8e in this life. The water-aymbolism in r •
the poems 8erve~ 'e. heighten this feeling of trwnacenàence
and metaph.ric~1lyl emphasized the rebirth that hero anÀ audience\ /
experienceà •
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\ Bib~1ography
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•
•
, ., ..
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