A giant man eating monster, whom like Cain, was exiled by God. Yes, that much we know. The poet tells us that Grendel is a “fiend from hell” (101), and a “grim spirit” (102)—In short, a no nonsense evil to the bone kind of guy. But what drove him into the throat-slitting-blood-drinking-flesh-gobbling business?
Is Grendel a pagan—the same force that Roland and Charlemagne were to overcome (with the help of God himself of course)? Well, Grendel is called the “foe of mankind” (164), and Beowulf’s pre-game wrestling match discussion, “let the wise Lord grant the judgment of glory…to whichever hand seems proper” suggests that God was on the side of Beowulf, the victor in the fight. According to the Roland model, it would appear that Grendel is the pagan to be conquered.
However, it seems that paganism is not the corrupting force in Grendel. In fact, some of Grendel’s potential prey “offered honor to idols at pagan temples” (175-176). The poet then explains that “they did not know the Lord God, ore even how to praise the heavenly Protector” (181-182) and asserts his Christian opinion. Because the poet is taking the time to assert these opinions outside of the monster, it suggests Grendel’s downfall may not of the pagan variety.
Luizza argues that Beowulf is a Christian poem about Pagans that avoids automatic condemnation. I would suggest that the condemnation of Paganism is subtler in Beowulf than in Roland. So, in the end, I don’t know what Grendel is. Perhaps Grendel is, as Luizza suggests, the “embodiment of fratricide” based on his association with Cain, or maybe he’s just evil.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Swooning in "The Song of Roland"
While I thought that Sharon Kinoshita's article was persuasive and illuminating in its discussion of the deployment of gender, I still think the world of The Song of Roland is primarily a man's world. It's a world of knights and war and territorial expansion and homosocial relationships between men. And, yet, it's also a world where there is a considerable amount of weeping and fainting, two activities that have been traditionally associated with women. I kept finding myself saying aloud, as I was reading Roland, "Run mad as often as you choose, but do not faint!" courtesy of Jane Austen, because it's a marvel that these knights and warriors, who pierce each other with lances and see bowels and brains spill out of their companions, would have the sort of constitution that would resort to swooning when they are overcome with emotions. I agree with Kinoshita that the poem "is haunted by a crisis of nondifferentiation" when it comes to the Christians and Saracens but it is also haunted, to some extent, by this same crisis when it comes to gender. The men are brave and noble just as they are affectionate and emotional.
The Introduction to my copy of Roland, by Dorothy L. Sayers, does mention that by the standards of feudal epic this sort of behavior is correct as the death of a beloved nephew or close friend warrants weeping and swooning and would not have been perceived as a character weakness in the eleventh century. She states that "the idea that a strong man should react to great personal and national calamities by a slight compression of the lips and by silently throwing his cigarette into the fireplace is of very recent origin" (15). Fainting, especially by the thousands, is depicted as heroic and epic and perfectly acceptable in the poem. To be affectionate or overly emotional is somehow linked with the noble world of knights which raises questions about gender differentiation. Fainting in the eighteenth and nineteenth century, however, is usually depicted as proof of the weak constitution of women or it is parodied, usually as it relates to women. It would be interesting to trace this shift in public perception and breakdown, the shift from a knightly attribute to a female one, an illustration of heroism to one of weakness or absurdity.
The Introduction to my copy of Roland, by Dorothy L. Sayers, does mention that by the standards of feudal epic this sort of behavior is correct as the death of a beloved nephew or close friend warrants weeping and swooning and would not have been perceived as a character weakness in the eleventh century. She states that "the idea that a strong man should react to great personal and national calamities by a slight compression of the lips and by silently throwing his cigarette into the fireplace is of very recent origin" (15). Fainting, especially by the thousands, is depicted as heroic and epic and perfectly acceptable in the poem. To be affectionate or overly emotional is somehow linked with the noble world of knights which raises questions about gender differentiation. Fainting in the eighteenth and nineteenth century, however, is usually depicted as proof of the weak constitution of women or it is parodied, usually as it relates to women. It would be interesting to trace this shift in public perception and breakdown, the shift from a knightly attribute to a female one, an illustration of heroism to one of weakness or absurdity.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Christians are right...but which ones?
Roland is convinced that Christianity is the true religion and all others are false. The whole Chanson de Roland echoes his conviction. At first, it might seem that Roland is referring to a monolithic Christianity, i.e. one that is uniform in theology and unified in culture. To go further, he believes in the Christianity of the Franks, also known as Latin Christianity. What, then is his attitude (and by extension, the rest of the Franks) to other non-western, or non-Frankish Christians?
Sharon Kinoshita addresses this issue in her article, “Pagans are wrong and Christians are right”. Since the Franks depicted in La Chanson de Roland have more in common with the Crusaders than with the Franks of Charlemange’s era, their understanding of eastern Christianity is as misinformed as their understanding of Islam. Referring to Greek and Armenian Christians in the east, Kinoshita says, “In some ways, the westerners found their eastern coreligionists as strange as the Muslim enemy they had come to fight” (8). It was cultural and ethic differences, rather than theological ones, that caused the Franks to regard their brother Christians in the east as “the other”. Though the Franks may not have cast them in the same light as the idolatrous pagans, they did not consider them as fitting in the scheme of the Latin church. It seems, then, that the Franks were more concerned with the superiority of their national identity, then with the truth of their faith.
Of course, this is not far removed from the present day. Many Catholics, Protestants, and Orthodox war with one another (whether in theological debate or in outright violence) while condemning other religions as false. Cultural identity is as important to them as it was to the Franks. And cultural identity, more so than theology, shapes their view of the world and “the other”. Christians may be right, but which ones?
Sharon Kinoshita addresses this issue in her article, “Pagans are wrong and Christians are right”. Since the Franks depicted in La Chanson de Roland have more in common with the Crusaders than with the Franks of Charlemange’s era, their understanding of eastern Christianity is as misinformed as their understanding of Islam. Referring to Greek and Armenian Christians in the east, Kinoshita says, “In some ways, the westerners found their eastern coreligionists as strange as the Muslim enemy they had come to fight” (8). It was cultural and ethic differences, rather than theological ones, that caused the Franks to regard their brother Christians in the east as “the other”. Though the Franks may not have cast them in the same light as the idolatrous pagans, they did not consider them as fitting in the scheme of the Latin church. It seems, then, that the Franks were more concerned with the superiority of their national identity, then with the truth of their faith.
Of course, this is not far removed from the present day. Many Catholics, Protestants, and Orthodox war with one another (whether in theological debate or in outright violence) while condemning other religions as false. Cultural identity is as important to them as it was to the Franks. And cultural identity, more so than theology, shapes their view of the world and “the other”. Christians may be right, but which ones?
Monday, August 30, 2010
Pious knights
What religion meant for these knights? Religion was their way for salvation, the perfect excuse to kill and to sack Saracens, of course... but did they actually know something about Christ, God or anything? The Bible was in Latin, but even in vernacular languages, most of the people were illiterate, even among nobility. They probably knew about Trinity and they probably knew something about Jesus v.e. his miracles. However, it is improbable the knew about deep theological questions or the about the meaning of their own believes.
It is actually amazing that those kind of people, with their very undetermined faith, were absolutely certain to be in the right side. They did not need to actually know the meaning of their believes, but only they needed to know that they were right.
Priest were also part of this status quo. They did not want to enlighten the knights, but to put them to fight to some other people, like the Saracens, and to avoid them to fight between themselves. In that way they turned Christianity in to an hieratic religion, and knowledge was reserved only for God himself and his clergy.
The only possible result of that way of thinking is the creation of blind certainty of being right only because somebody else said so, and beginning to get used to stop thinking by oneself. Rightness or wrongness is not any more an issue that requires analysis and thinking, but the result of certain interpretation of of a book written in mysterious language by a god ans told by a privileged class of priests.
Is it possible to see that kind of faith nowadays?
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Would Roland have understood a pluralistic world?
While reading our secondary text for this week, I found myself wondering if it would have mattered to the medieval European Christians if they had truly understood the faith of their Muslim enemies. In the eyes of a Crusader, does it truly make a difference if the opposing forces are pagan or monotheistic?
In a society that sees itself as the rightful descendants of martyrs and apostles preparing for the end of the world and the world-wide reign of Christianity, their enemies will automatically and necessarily be defined not what they are, but what they are not. Since they are not Christians, regardless of the particulars of their religious practice, they are, to Roland and his comrades, the evil Other and to be treated as such. This is not an epic that allows for a range of acceptable belief systems, but rather a story that traffics purely in good/bad, us/them, light/dark, Christian/Saracen binaries. While it is interesting and illuminating to see how the categories of Muslim and pagan were repeatedly blended, I wonder if the author of The Song of Roland wouldn't consider it besides the points.
(Obviously, it is a given that the Muslims of this time period - as well as our own- would probably prefer not to be conflated with pagans, sorcerers and the Antichrist, but they are not given much of a choice in this text.)
In a society that sees itself as the rightful descendants of martyrs and apostles preparing for the end of the world and the world-wide reign of Christianity, their enemies will automatically and necessarily be defined not what they are, but what they are not. Since they are not Christians, regardless of the particulars of their religious practice, they are, to Roland and his comrades, the evil Other and to be treated as such. This is not an epic that allows for a range of acceptable belief systems, but rather a story that traffics purely in good/bad, us/them, light/dark, Christian/Saracen binaries. While it is interesting and illuminating to see how the categories of Muslim and pagan were repeatedly blended, I wonder if the author of The Song of Roland wouldn't consider it besides the points.
(Obviously, it is a given that the Muslims of this time period - as well as our own- would probably prefer not to be conflated with pagans, sorcerers and the Antichrist, but they are not given much of a choice in this text.)
Others Together
Within the first lais of The Song of Roland a religious distinction is made between King Marsile and King Charles. King Marsile “does not love god,” which almost immediately makes King Marsile and his followers “others.” As the text continues, the pagan men are described on many occasions in dark terms, ie. “blacker than ink (1933)”. This imagery seems to dehumanize the “other” and move him toward the monstrous, thus underscoring King Charles and Christianity as relatively positive.
Interestingly, there appears to be another significant “other” portrayed in this text. It seems that Oliver is an “other” when contrasted with Roland; he is a necessary counterpart. When Oliver urges Roland to blow his horn, Oliver provides a challenge that highlights Roland’s courage and nobility. Shortly after, the poet attributes their disagreement to their differing inclinations “Roland is brave and Oliver is wise; both are marvelous vassals. (1093-1094)” Oliver, unlike King Marsile and his men, is described in honorable terms and therefore can be viewed as a sort of civilized “other.”
When taking both types of “others” into consideration neither prevail on their own. Oliver is killed during battle, and Charlemagne wins the battle. In this case, neither variation of “other” can adequately relay morals or values alone. The “others” appear to be used as a device to emphasize the value of a counterpart.
Interestingly, there appears to be another significant “other” portrayed in this text. It seems that Oliver is an “other” when contrasted with Roland; he is a necessary counterpart. When Oliver urges Roland to blow his horn, Oliver provides a challenge that highlights Roland’s courage and nobility. Shortly after, the poet attributes their disagreement to their differing inclinations “Roland is brave and Oliver is wise; both are marvelous vassals. (1093-1094)” Oliver, unlike King Marsile and his men, is described in honorable terms and therefore can be viewed as a sort of civilized “other.”
When taking both types of “others” into consideration neither prevail on their own. Oliver is killed during battle, and Charlemagne wins the battle. In this case, neither variation of “other” can adequately relay morals or values alone. The “others” appear to be used as a device to emphasize the value of a counterpart.
Triumph over the Mind and Spirit
The Song of Roland seizes upon conversion as an opportunity to triumph over pagans, not just in killing them (triumph through death) but also is asserting that their truth of God and eternity is correct (triumph through life?). And when asked which is worse, to be beaten in death or beaten – perhaps more accurately, captured – in life, Roland definitely leans toward the greater victory being in the one that lasts (infinitely) longer.
The Archbishop Turpin is praised for two skills: that of battle and that of conversion. Roland himself praises the more highly (placing it last of his eulogy before a final blessing) that “Since the apostles there was never such a prophet / For maintaining the faith and winning men over” (v. 2255-2256). Previous to this point we have witnessed Turpin slay countless pagans in battle, but it is this quality that Roland ultimately praises, as if to say that it is far more worthy of praise than mere victory in battle.
The conversion of Bramimonde, perhaps appropriately, begins with the defeat of her husband in battle. She despairs of her gods (which the poet completely inaccurately names as Muhammad, Turvagant and Apollo – but who ever said that medieval Christians had a completely accurate view of Islam?), casting her idols into ditches and otherwise defacing them on pp. 110-111. The emir, Baligant, makes the same transition during his fight with Charlemagne – he “begins to realize / That he is wrong and Charlemagne is right” (v. 3553-3554). It seems that victory in the physical realm is only a stepping stone to victory in the spiritual realm. On the next page (p. 143) the emir attempts to assert feudal lordship by urging Charles to give in and become his vassal, but Charlemagne responds by urging Baligant to give in and accept Christianity, showing that Charlemagne values spiritual dominance over feudal (or martial) conquest.
As the clinching point for his victory, rather than forcibly baptizing Bramimonde along with the hundred thousand pagans left in Saragossa, Charlemagne decides that she will be persuaded to convert. “She will be taken as a captive to fair France; / The king wishes her to become a convert through love” (v. 3673-3674). What he intends is something more than a triumph over someone in battle (through killing them) or a triumph over someone’s free will (by forcing them to be baptized). It is a triumph over the mind and spirit and the ultimate vindication that he is in the right. And indeed, the poem cannot be complete until the last page whereon Bramimonde “has heard so many sermons and parables” (v. 3979) that she desires Christianity actively, not just as an alternative to death. It is the last line of the contained story (before a final epilogue-esque bit about Charlemagne) that “She is a Christian, convinced of the truth” (v. 3987) – this is the symbolic victory Glyn Burgess speaks of in the Introduction, and it is vastly more cathartic to the end of the story than the less than satisfactory (due to the loss of Roland) actual, physical victory over paganism.
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