Parzival's Damsels in Distress

Sharon Kinoshita, in an article titled "The Politics of Courtly Love: La Prise d'Orange and the Conversion of the Saracen Queen," argues that possession of the Saracen woman became a surrogate for and a means of possession of the Saracen world. She examines Orable from La Prise d'Orange and argues that Guillaume Fierebrace's conquest of her is really a symbolic conquest of the city. I think this also rings true for the possession of women - both Saracen and not - in Parzival; more often than not, the women are linked to a throne or region that needs governance and the knight who "wins" her almost always "wins" a kingdom in the process.

After Gahmuret and the Queen of Zazamanc unite, the Queen makes clear what the noble knight has won: "I and my lands are subject to this knight," she declares to her people and she later echoes this sentiment via her letter: "Return, and from my hands receive a crown, sceptre and kingdom that have been bequeathed to me" (49). Likewise, Condwiramurs is trying to protect both "land and person" from Clamide's "wooing" and, instead, "bestowed her lands and castles on him [Parzival], for he was the darling of her heart" (110). The woman-land conflation is all over Parzival and seems to suggest that women's bodies do not function merely as their own but also as cultural signifiers.

Kinoshita's above article implies that women's bodies act as signifiers for their culture; that, essentially, the representation of conquest of an entire people can be brought out by the conquest of a single individual. This is problematic because this "site" then becomes a figurative battlefield as opposed to belonging to the individual herself thus raising the question: what would happen if women became agents and knights of their own, pursuing lands and saving others from harm, as opposed to acting as signs for conquest or the conquered?

The Question

The purpose of the Question is not so much for Parzival to know what the Question is, so much as to test whether he's the kind of person who would ask the Question. So why is Parzival still out of luck?

The little courtly training Parzival has had served to curb his natural inquisitiveness. The little Parzival who asked the knight if he was God probably would have asked so many questions during the Gral procession that he would have hit the right one eventually. But the more grown up Parzival - the very same knight who gets welcomed to the Table Round - has other things on his mind. After the Gral comes out, the first we hear of Parzival is only peripherally related to the Gral: "This tale declares that Parzival gazed and wondered on that lady intently who had brought in that Gral, and well he might, since it was her cloak that he was wearing" (125-126). Parzival's thoughts are at least in the right direction, but he is distracted by the gesture he received from the Gral-bearer. Would he have thought of the Question if she had not given him her cloak?

It seems Parzival is put more at a disadvantage by the reception of his hosts than by incapability to ponder. "...they had come to know heartfelt grief. Parzival was not made to know this in any way" (121). Sure, Parzival should notice that the lord of the castle is incredibly ill, but he specifically says that God crippled his body - how was Parzival to know that his compassion could remedy that misery?

If Parzival was supposed to be the kind of person who would as the Question, I am not convinced that not being that person makes him quite the terrible churl that Sigune and Cundrie declare him to be. Parzival was acting in a perfectly rational and polite way given the information that was presented to him, so why should he have to bear such insults because the folks at Wildenberg were disappointed after hardly giving him a chance?

Atonement

It seemed appropriate that just after Parzival is chastised by his cousin for not asking “the question” he bumps into the scanty covered Jeschute who is running from her husband Orilus. Of course many years earlier Parzival caused lady Jeschute much pain and suffering when, in youthful ignorance, he ate her food and stole her jewels.

In the two encounters thus far with Parzival’s cousin, Sigune, she seems to unwittingly direct him toward his future. In their first encounter she informs him of who he is, and points in a direction away from her lover’s killer that just so happens to lead to Arthur’s court. In Parzival’s next encounter with Sigune she seems to send him off in a state of dispair. However this is perhaps his beginning path towards the graal?

If so, it therefore seems appropriate that Parzival bumps into Jeschute; his actions with her seem to be a sort of blemish of his past. It might be unlikely that Parzival could achieve the graal with this sin hanging over his head. Although this situation does not seem to be the highly planned test we saw in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, it does seem to be a chance for atonement for Parzival. And it may be that only because he is able to reconcile Jeschute and Orilus, he can move forward towards his goal.

Talking about the sarracen woman...

It is very simple: the Christian, white, Franc and European people are the good ones. The black and pagans are the bad ones. There is nothing relative about this values; loyalty is not a value unless someone is loyal to the Christian, white, Franc and Euorpean people. Women who are loyal to their own blood are simply bad women, even though, or especially if they show the same virtues that Christians show to their own people. Values are not some abstract premises that claim to be universal standards as Kant´s ethics. The true values are the values that we believe and we believe them because they are ours; the beautiful women are our white blond women. If someone can marvel about this phenomenon, is because he or she did not watch cowboys movies in where the pale faces were always the good ones and the red skins were the bad guys. A nationalist narrative is not the search of the Universal Good or a treatise of ethics: is simply the affirmation of a nation –or an ethnicity in this case –as the holders of the truth. If there is a desirable princess for one of “our” princes, it is because she is in some way similar to us. This truth is not a metaphysic one. These texts are so far from that! This truth is the kind of truth that Nietzsche used to declare: “Truth is what is convenient to life.” Not what is convenient to every life, but to “our” life specifically, and that is the life of Christian, white, and European people. This idea is still strong. We just have to look to any TV commercial to acknowledge that “we” still believe that our women are the most beautiful, our religion the only true and our culture the only valuable. This voice spoke through Angela Merkel a few days ago: “We feel tied to Christian values. Those who don’t accept them don’t have a place here…” Middle Ages are finished, are they?

A Weak Anchor

It is ironic that Gahmuret’s emblem is an anchor. He is always so restless, always seeking adventure, and (to put it in modern psychological terms) has serious commitment issues. He is unstable and flighty, not the characteristics usually associated with an anchor.

He also seems to suffer from lovesickness. Hopelessly smitten by Queen Belacane, he cannot sleep thinking about here. “The hero lost his patience with the night for dragging on so. With thoughts of the dusky Moorish Queen he fell from swoon to swoon, he whipped from side to side like an osier, setting his joints a-cracking” (Wolfram 30). This is the angst typically ascribed to lovesick woman, not a valiant knight. It also shows the disparity between him and his emblem, as an anchor holds firm a ship that is being tossed and buffeted by the waves.

This is not, however, the only scene that feminizes Gahmuret. On page 43, he is said to have “full lips [that] shone like rubies, red as fire”. Rarely are men’s lips mentioned when describing his physical appearance, much less how red they are. Yet the poet points this out as one of his most salient features.

There is another feminized outpouring of grief on page 57, and this time, another character comments on it:
‘Now summon up all your courage,’ said King Hardiz, ‘for if you are a man you must not voice your grief beyond measure.’
But alas, Gahmuret’s anguish was too great. A torrent gushed from his eyes.

Gahmuret’s behavior throughout the poem is vexing because it does not exemplify knightly, Christian, or manly virtue. The emblem of the anchor is even more problematic. Unless Wolfram meant it to be a joke, it doesn’t seem to represent Gahmuret in anyway.

Girdle Power

In both the Nibelungenlied and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight a girdle has a major impact in the action of the story. In Sir Gawain and the Green Knight the green girdle almost leads to Gawain's demise, but only ends up being a symbol of his deceit and fear. In the Nibelungenlied Brunhild’s girdle becomes a strong piece of the argument between Brunhild and Kriemhild. It is, of course, this argument that leads to the ultimate destruction.

Why is it that a woman’s intimate garment can cause so much trouble for our medieval friends? While the green girdle does not seem quite as treacherous as Brunhild’s girdle (perhaps because the green girdle was given away and Brunhild’s was forcefully taken…) it is still a source of guilt for Gawain. However the significant difference in treachery seems to be that the green girdle does not come from a monstrous woman, just a lady. And while the green girdle may or may not have magical power, it does not cause problems nearly as severe as Brunhild’s girdle does.

The female presence seems different in the Nibelungenlied compared to Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Of course Morgan swoops in at the end but she’s no Kriemhild. Morgan only fails to kill Guenevere, she does not incite the slaughter-fest of two entire kingdoms. It thus seems that the treachery of Brunhild’s girdle highlights the monstrosity of women who do not fit social expectations and take revenge. The girdle was taken from a quasi-monstrous figure, Brunhild, and ultimately reveals the most beautiful woman in the land, Kriemhild, as monstrous. Perhaps the girdle as an intimate garment is able to reveal the most personal traits.

Brunhild in "The Nibelungenlied"

The Nibelungenlied's Brunhild seems, on the surface, to be a proto-feminist type. She is a mighty sovereign in her own right and vies with men at throwing javelins. She participates in masculine warrior culture and is a formidable opponent to even the bravest warrior. And, yet, for all her strength and shrewdness, she takes part in the masculine warrior culture without challenging or subverting cultural norms that relegate women to mere prizes for marriage. Her unusual strength, even, makes her more of a spectacle than a symbol for female empowerment.

All of the women in The Nibelungenlied are given in marriage by their male protectors usually in exchange for a certain favor or desirable outcome. Gunther, for instance, promises Kriemhild to Siegfried in exchange for Siegfried's help in overcoming Brunhild: "I will do it," Siegried tells Gunther, "if you will give me your sister fair Kriemhild, the noble princess...I wish no other reward for my trouble" (54). They're not subtle about it - Kriemhild is, in effect, a prize for a certain type of requested behavior. It's what we expect and I doubt many of us are surprised by it; what I found surprising, however, is that Brunhild offers herself as a literal prize to suitors. Gunther and Siegfried talk of "winning" the Icelandic queen suggesting that, just as Kriemhild is part of an exchange that reduces her to a "reward" or prize, so too is Brunhild.

One could probably point to Brunhild's astonishing strength and superhuman abilities as evidence that she is challenging conventional notions of femininity and, yet, her strength reinforces the concept of woman as object or spectacle. While she claims on pg. 60 of our text that neither her nor her ladies are to stand at the windows "as a spectacle for strangers" she, only six pgs later, renders herself a literal spectacle by hurling heavy boulders and throwing javelins and combating with Gunther-Siegfried. She may be a formidable opponent but she's also taking part in a discourse that monopolizes on the belief that women are objects by, in effect, becoming an object to watch.

The part that is most disturbing to me is, as mentioned above, she enters into this discourse of her own accord. She makes herself a spectacle and she makes herself a prize. But, I guess, you could argue that just by taking matters into her own hands she is making a powerful statement about female agency and initiative...or, on the flipside, she's just reinforcing masculine warrior culture at her own expense.

Kriemhild and Friends

It seems a bit odd to me that Kriemhild is described with so little detail for all that she is clearly the dominating female presence of The Nibelungenlied. We are told again and again that she is beautiful and “beyond all measure lovely” (17), et cetera, but we never really learn anything about what she actually looks like. In fact, it seems that as much detail is expended describing Kriemhild’s attendants as Kriemhild herself.

In the prelude to Siegfried and Kriemhild’s first meeting, “Uote appeared with Kriemhild, having chosen for company a hundred fair ladies or more, magnificently gowned, while her daughter, too, was attended by a troop of comely maidens” (47). In this instance, we have no description of how Uote and Kriemhild were dressed at all, and they are only bolstered by the grandeur of those they employ – as though having the lovelier attendants goes to proves one’s own beauty.

Kriemhild is constantly paired with this bevy of lovely ladies. When Siegfried and Gunther come to speak to her, “the lovely girl dressed herself exquisitely … and now her train, too, were adorned becomingly” (55). It is as though the presence of her well-dressed train is substitute for a description of her exquisite clothing. Yet, in some places we are told specifics of what people wear, and thus we can take those incidents therefore to have the greater weight for being so rare. These moments include descriptions of the clothing made for Gunther’s sojourn to Brunhild as being made of silk from fanciful Arabian cities.

But perhaps more interesting is the moment Kriemhild appears without her cohorts. The night of Gunther and Brunhild’s wedding, “Kriemhild was summoned before the King, and she appeared at the foot of the hall with her comely maidens in attendance: but at once Giselher leapt down the stair. ‘Tell these girls to withdraw – only my sister is to remain with the King!’ and so Kriemhild was ushered into the royal presence…” (85). Kriemhild has practically been asked to appear without her clothes.

It is not until the scene of Kriemhild’s legal marriage that she is permitted to appear without accompaniment, and it seems this is because she has gained some kind of new stature. After this scene she immediately begins appearing without attendants (mostly at night, with Siegfried), which leads me to conclude that once she is officially Siegfried’s bride, she no longer needs this lovely accompaniment to testify to her own beauty. Perhaps it is only in marriage that Kriemhild is finally made beautiful without question.

Morgan the Crone

I was happy to read in Heng's article that so many have been puzzled by Morgan le Fey's sudden and unexpected responsibility for the action of the romance of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. It is certainly a tricky interpretive mystery, one that leads to a lot of interesting questions about her intentions and her success that are, to allude to Heng's title, knotty.

One knot in particular that interests me, however, is that of Morgan's evident old age. When she is described, ever so briefly, her main characteristic is that of her great age, especially in contrast with the youthful and beautiful Lady. Since Arthurian legend tells us that Morgan is Arthur's half sister, and that he, in this poem, is barely out of his youth, her apparent age is something of a mystery.

It could be that her age is a disguise, meant to conceal her presence in the castle and her control over the plot. After all, Sir Gawain shows himself to be more likely to pay attention to the young ladies than his venerable elders. The lack of unveiling of that aspect of the disguise would seem to weaken this theory, however, especially given the "reveals" that occur in this tale and that of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnell.

Another theory is that she is meant to contrast to Gawain's patron, the Virgin Mary, who is often depicted as youthful and maidenly, and Guenevere the young queen. Morgan could be meant to be the wicked old witch preying on young ladies, in the same way that the stepmother in Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnell preyed on her youthful stepdaughter.

Whether either of these, or some unknown third option, was the intent of the author is obviously impossible to know, but in any case, her age lends yet another layer of mysterious on top of the already enigmatic Morgan.

The Beheading Game

The beheading challenge in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight presents the immediate and obvious problem that the Green Knight should not have survived Gawain's blow. It seems both cruel for Gawain to accept and silly not to - after a single strike he will have won. He will have secured his reputation as being up for any challenge, and he will have expelled that creepy green fellow from the court.

And yet there is a hovering what if. What if the Green Knight survives to strike a return blow in a year's time? Aside from common knowledge asserting that the Green Knight will die... what about his personage suggests that he won't survive? He's part giant, perhaps a bit elvish in appearance, and as such is massive. He comes shoeless, without armor and bearing a holly bough, asserting peace, but also carrying the axe for his own beheading. Even disregarding the fact that he's green, I don't think this stranger ought to be trusted and he certainly does not come across as the kind of idiot who would get himself killed. In fact, I should think that in all cases of beheading challenges, the challenged party would get a little suspicious that the knight offering up his own neck would have something up his sleeve.

Given this reasonable mistrust, I am not at all surprised that Gawain flinched while receiving his own blow. Why would this enchanted Green Knight magick his way out of his own beheading only to teach Gawain a lesson? So of course Gawain fully expected to die... And of course the poet needed him to flinch in order to further teach the lesson that he should have faced his own death bravely.

I have to wonder though, if the Green Knight (and his enchantress backer who will remain unnamed lest I spoil the end) has such magic that he can survive his own beheading, would he have been able to make Gawain survive a beheading as well? Would living through what he expected to be his death be a much more effective method of teaching bravery? Or would subjecting Gawain to such a supernatural experience take away from his (more or less) untainted perfection of chivalry?

Sir Gawain the Other

I found the end of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight to be a curious triumph for Sir Gawain. Gawain seems to display noble behavior throughout the poem, he steps up and somewhat courageously takes the Green Knight’s challenge, he keeps his promise and seeks out the Green Knight a year later, and he honors his deal with Lord Bertilak until the green girdle is introduced.

To me the green girdle is a humanizing moment where he follows human instinct instead of perfect knightly behavior. It seems as though fear was always in the background (who wouldn’t be at least a bit afraid of a beheading Green Knight?), however it wasn’t the authority directing Gawain’s decisions—he was pursuing the Green Knight regardless. It seems in the moment he decides to take the green girdle he went from being idyllic—a sort of other—to human. And perhaps this complexity is one of the brilliant achievements of this poem, Gawain who is a type of other becomes one of us.

In the end, although Gawain’s life is spared, we aren’t presented with a traditional triumph or tragedy. There is no fight, no blood, no struggle. Again, this pulls Gawain closer to human than was the dragon slaying Beowulf, perhaps. It’s almost ironic that it all ends in Gawain realizing that he was acting on human instinct, not living up to the reputation of Arthur’s knights. These ironic strands of Gawain’s shame are teased even further when the court laughs and all decide to wear a green sash in honor of his adventure. Perhaps this is the poet revealing his suspicion of ideal Knightly behavior.

Women and Guile in SGGK

I came across some lines in SGGK that reminded me of some current research I'm doing for my mentored scholarly essay on the presumed affinity between women and jinn in the medieval Islamic imagination; a lot of what I've read so far seems to position this affinity in women's presumed tendency towards "guile." It's such a funny word that the following SGGK lines really jumped out at me: "But no wonder if a fool should fall for a female / and be wiped of his wits by womanly guile - / it's the way of the world" (2414-16). The Middle English word used in the poem is "wyles" or wiles or trickery suggesting that women and trickery, or guile, go hand in hand.

The SGGK lines reminded me of the opening of The Arabian Nights where King Shahrayar, upset that his wife has been having an affair, leaves his kingdom with his brother. After he sets out, he comes upon an ifrit and a young woman; after the young woman tricks him and his brother into having intercourse with her, he swears off all womankind and claims that their "guile is great." This tendency towards guile, towards trickery, has become a conventional characterization of women in traditional Islamic literatures but it is, of course, a convention in traditional Western literatures as well with Eve functioning as the prototype.

It begs the following questions: What does it mean that this concept of "woman's guile" surfaces in a text like SGGK and Islamic literary texts, such as The Arabian Nights? What is it about women that makes them such easy targets for such characterizations?

One critic I have been reading for my mentored scholarly essay, Nawal El Saadawi, posits that, before patriarchal religions and systems took root, representations of strong female goddesses were common but that they steadily declined once patriarchal religions became more popular. You can see this a little bit with the clash between "Morgan the Goddess" and the Christian faith that Sir Gawain embodies. El Saadawi argues that, in order for patriarchal systems of thought to set itself against what came before, it had to discredit the competing ideologies and one way to do so was to rewrite representations of strong women as threatening or evil. We can certainly see this operating, to some extent, in SGGK and other texts whereby women are credited for introducing or maintaining evil in the world and, to be closer to God and Christ, is to also distance yourself away from women. It's one way to explain why such characterizations of women, as embodiments of guile and deception, were so popular.