All Those Trees, Man....

So I had to start this by admitting that I had no idea what a grafted tree was before I read this story (I most definitely do NOT have a green thumb) So naturally, I googled the definition, as well as a few pictures. Please enjoy the following for your viewing pleasure:

Once, that was clear I had to figure out why the hell this even matters.  (And it does.  I don’t know how, but I can just feel it.) From a spin off site of Wikipedia (I know, I know, but it was the quickest) I got the following definitions:

Noun[edit]

imp (plural imps)

1.   (obsolete) A young shoot of a plant, tree etc. [9th–17th c.]  [quotations ▼]

2.   (obsolete) A scion, offspring; a child. [15th–19th c.]  [quotations ▼]

3.   A young or inferior devil; a malevolent supernatural creature, similar to a demon but smaller and less powerful. [from 16th c.]  [quotations ▼]

4.   A mischievous child. [from 17th c.]  [quotations ▼]

5.   (UK, dialect, obsolete) Something added to, or united with, another, to lengthen it out or repair it, such as an addition to a beehive; a feather inserted in a broken wing of a bird; or a length of twisted hair in a fishing line.

I focused on the first two definitions the most, which apply most in this situation because their use is obsolete and it just so happens to be the one used in this story.  With these definitions, I’m afraid I didn’t find much help, because I had trouble finding connections.  Almost every time we see Herodis in the story, she’s under an “impe-tree.” Now, this is me just trying to find the significance in that. 

I included the hyperlinks in case you wanted to see for yourself, but what is most interesting is that not only is an “impe” a young, slightly modified form of a tree, it’s also a scion, which is considered a child, or more specifically, a descendent.  So this is really cool, because this story is just a Medieval account of the story of Orpheus.  So this leads me to think: is Herodis meant to be a descendent of Eurydice? 

The way the author of this story makes a Christian world connect to Greek mythology is actually really awesome.  I noticed a lot of tiny nuances that made this possible.  Such as the tree imagery.  (“’He is wrinkled as a tree!’” (510)). And when the story alludes to Adam and Eve:

            He who in ermine robes was clad

            And sheets of purple linen had

            Now lies upon the moss and clover,

            Leaves and grasses for his cover (240-244).

And later when it says, “Nothing to give him joy or pride, / But just the snakes that past him glide” (251-252). I could be way off base there, but it’s interesting how there are parallels, not only with that story, but also of the Christian way of humbling yourself  ( just as Orfeo does in this situation)

I did say I was disappointed with the ending, though, although I think I can recognize that the audience of the time needed this kind of ending.

No one actually gets a happy ending at the end of this myth.  Instead, Orpheus actually DOES get ripped to shreds, and his wife doesn’t get to live at all.  I wish the author would’ve found a way to modify the ending in such a way that it was the same outcome, but achieved in a different way. Just like the rest of the story modifies the original tale. I feel like they just got lazy at the end and decided everyone was going to be happy.

But then again, maybe the author recognized that his audience wouldn’t be satisfied with that kind of ending.  It’s got everything a medieval person wants to read: suffering over the loss of a love, honor, chivalry, music, a happy ending, and a Christian, moral lesson.  Orfeo needs to test the loyalty of his people.  The author of this story had to modify the story to adapt to a relevant lesson for the time. 

I get it, but I don’t necessarily like it. 

And here are the links to those definitions, in case you wanna check 'em out:

Impe:

http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/imp

and Scion:

http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/scion