Chaucer: Still a Misogynist, but Funny this Time

The Miller's Tale was a hilarious read, one which I thoroughly enjoyed. I take a certain amount of pleasure out of the humiliation of men, particularly those insistent on pursuing unrequited romantic or sexual interest, and Absolon's scatological demise (when "Nicholas anon let fle a fart" (3806)) was particularly amusing to my taste.

Butts are indeed the highest form of comedy.

However, to take a darker tone, there was a particular note that troubled me, and one that seems to form somewhat of a pattern in Chaucer's work: the vindication of the rapist. I discussed this at some length in a previous blog post, discussing the Wife of Bath's Tale. In that post, I used the protagonist's ultimate escape from any consequences (and essentially, his benefit) from having committed the violent crime of rape that served as the main conflict and driving plot force of the tale as part of my argument that the text fails to stand up to a critical feminist analysis.

While not involving the same (assumed) intensity of the rape in the Wife's Tale, the Miller's Tale is also heavily driven by a man committing an act of sexual assault, when Nicholas grabbed Alisoun "by the queynte," (3276) without consent and to her protestations. Again, not only does he not receive any sort of punishment for doing so (except arguably the hot poker from Absolon), but he is rewarded with fulfillment of his sexual aims. This pattern is alarming and certainly indicative of underlying misogyny in Chaucer, even as he attempts to subvert tropes rooted in it.

Get it?? ...because it's ROOTED in it??? ...no? anyone?... I'll show myself out.

The obvious counter-argument here is that this tale is not to be taken literally or seriously, as it's parody. This calls to my mind an infamous interview in which Slovenian cultural critic Slavoj Zizek is praising the film Kung Fu Panda.

Zizek interprets Kung Fu Panda as being effective because it parodies an ideology while simultaneously endorsing it wholeheartedly. I believe the Miller's Tale is a Kung Fu Panda - while parodying misogynist tropes of the era, it also endorses and rewards misogynist exertion of power. This is doubly effective - those who support this subjugation will enjoy its endorsement, and those who oppose it will enjoy the subversion. Both will implicitly support the text's patriarchal ideology.

Thinking on a larger scale, I find intrigue in Chaucer's use of the Kung Fu Panda ideological tactic simply because it's one I most strongly associate with the liberalism of the Enlightenment to the present, as it is a tool often used to obscure the ideological nature of content that supports hegemony within this framework. I don't know enough about the history of the Kung Fu Panda to evidence this, but I suspect that, similarly to things I discussed in my previous blog post, Chaucer is anticipating ideological components of liberalism and capitalism in a way that leaves him seeming, ironically, very forward-thinking (in the sense of dialectical progression of history) despite his misogynist tendencies.

Where is the Similarity?

When reading Sir Orfeo, I could not help but notice a lack of similarity between it and Orpheus and Eurydice.  In Sir Orfeo, his love/wife is alive, but dead inside.  Whereas, in Orpheus and Eurydice, Eurydice is dead, but alive inside (that she is able and willing to follow her husband).  That is but one difference between the two.  Having long ago been acquainted with the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice and having nothing more than little segments of it in memory, this tale was enough to re-jog the tale to memory.  However, why did I need to know of the tale before or while reading it? I guess I can see where the inspiration for the tale came from that way... but need I really know that?

Confusion aside, continuing on.  One (the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice) was a tragedy, the current reading (the tale of Sir Orfeo) ends on a much more happy note.  In one the love is lost and in the other the love is reacquired and rekindled.

The ending, where the king reappeared in "disguise" and made himself known by a skill in which he could do best (in this case his music playing), made me think of nothing but Odysseus from The Odyssey.  He had numerous suitors that wished to claim his wife, but in order to do so, they had to string his bow and, with it, shoot an arrow very accurately.  None of the suitors were capable of accomplishing this task... but along came Odysseus, disguised as an old man (in our current story Sir Orfeo is disguised as a ragged minstrel) strung his bow and, with it, not only did he shoot the very accurate shot correctly, but also slaughtered all the suitors who had been ransacking his household.  Unfortunately (at least from my messed up point of view), Sir Orfeo had no one to slay, as once his identity was discovered, he and his wife were warmly welcomed back and reseated upon the throne.

I end my post with this question:  As I saw a lot more similarities (at least in regards with how the story ended) to The Odyssey, why did we not need to have a background of it as well?

A Love Story for the Ages...

So I don’t know what everyone else is thinking about this story, but I actually really liked it, and I was totally surprised that I did. Middle English can be so hard to read, let alone understand and yet I feel I have enough of it under my belt to not be intimidated by it anymore. I had never heard the story about Orpheus before, so I had to read the link that Dr. MB suggested that we read beforehand, but even so I really ended up liking the story. I think, for the first time, I got the sense that we were reading about a couple that truly cared about each other, to the point that they were both incredibly distraught when they had to separate for years because of the faery king.

 

 

Although the story itself is odd because of its mystical element, I connected with it because it reminded me of a real life situation in which a couple that truly loves each other, may be separated for reasons beyond their control. Maybe it is family tensions, maybe it is any other obscure situation that I can’t really explain right now in a blog post but I am sure some of you get what I am trying to say. I mean…do I think the king should have forsaken his entire kingdom? No probably not, but is I romantic in a way? Yeah it kind of is.

 

 

His love for her is so encompassing that he cannot imagine ruling without her. “Al his kingdom he forsoke; Bot a sclavinon him he toke.” (227-228) Also…I am a bit of a sucker for happy endings. I like that neither one of these main characters plays hard to get, and that once they see each other they are genuinely ecstatic to see each other (I am still bitter about the Knight and the Cart). Speaking from a perspective of a person who has grown up on Disney fairy tales, I felt that this story was a classic hero, villain, damsel in distress gets saved by the hero kind of story, and I love that. The only issue a small part of me has with this story is the feminist side that is annoyed that the woman could not save herself, but that simply speaks to the time period in which this story was written.

More like Sir BOREfeo

I definitely prefer the version of the story where we learn a lesson about trust and whatever because Orfeo looks back one step too soon and his wife gets dragged back down into Hell. This particular version just didn't really have any conflict. I spent the whole read up until he discovered the entrance to Hell just waiting for that moment to see what would be different about it, and what I got was the least confrontational encounter with (who I assumed was) Satan that I've ever read about. 

How I expected Satan to act

So he enters Hell and sees the souls of the damned being tortured for all eternity and he sits down and plays some harp. The Devil is like "dang man that's some bomb-ass harp-playing, you can have anything you want." And he's like "I'll take my wife back then." And Satan's like "Oh I meant anything except that." And then all it takes to convince the King of the Damned to change his mind is Orfeo saying "dude that's bullshit you gave me your word" and Satan's like "you're right I promised on my scout's honor." I know we've talked a lot about honor in these stories being very important, but I thought maybe the one person who'd forsake honor would be the fallen angel himself, but even he seems to think a pinky-promise shouldn't be broken.

How Satan Actually Acted

And then Orfeo goes home and plays Tom Sawyer for a minute, tricking some folks into being sad for a little just to see how they really felt about him. And then he and his wife live happily ever after. So I guess we can learn that you should never give up and that you should be loyal, which is all good and dandy, I just wish we'd seen more action from Satan. This story has very little suspense once Orfeo has zero trouble literally going into Hell and back, and hardly encounters any opposition except when he backtalks Satan into having his way.

Repetition

Friends, comrades, fellow students... I think we can all agree that after taking this class, we have a very good, well thought out idea on love. From the first piece we read (Courtly Love from Andres Capellanus) to the most recent piece (Sir Orfeo), we can conclude that the middle ages were a time period full of horny, love-crazy bastards.

However, what I have been noticing in these past two stories, is that the characters and settings are Greek-based. Now, I may be the only person who thinks of this, but love is similar in every time period... except the Greeks and Romans. Those were some crazy people lol (insert emoji here)

Now to the story! I thought of this as a repetitive piece, like the other copious amount of stories we have read. Women gets kidnapped by stranger, guy gets pissed, epic adventure, she gets saved by guy, and they live happily ever after. Half way through, I could come up with the ending in my head, and I was right. As the famous rapper OG Maco would say, "Bitch, you guessed it Hwah, you was right."

What pissed me off the most, and I don't know why, were the fairies. I mean C'MON Man! You would think fairies would be these nice, mystical people who spread happiness with a flick and swish of a wand (Hah! Harry Potter reference). But NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! These little turds end up kidnapping the queen and many others, and hide them in a castle. When Sir Orfeo is granted access, I was thinking a huge fight was going to happen, not him playing his harp to the fairy king. The more I think about it, however, Sir Orfeo has the talent. As a child, he was given the gift of music, so he can play the hell out of a harp. We could call Sir Orfeo the Eric Clapton of harps.

But, again, after finishing this, I wasn't really pleased. The stories are getting so similar, that I really haven't been hooked by any plot line. If this was Metacritic, I would give this a solid 47 for not being original.

Why the happily ever after?

To start off, I found this story quite boring. There wasn't any excitement or major twist and turns. It was just a disappointment for me. Growing up, Greek mythology was one of my favorite subjects to learn. I reread the story of Orpheus and Eurydice before I read this poem, and it’s just exactly how I remembered it. Then I read the poem and was pretty much saying what the hell is this…

The way this poem started, I could have recited it myself once I got to the part where Herodis went missing. She literally disappeared in the air, and was just gone. Once that happened, I knew exactly what was going to come next. This story was like a repeat for many of the other stories we have read. Queen goes missing, King goes into disguise and follows.

What also confused me was the description about the other girls in the castle. Some stood without heads, some without arms, some had wounds, giving birth?! Like what, its like zombie land or something. Everyone is just crazy looking.

 BUT! The one thing that surprised me in this poem was the fact that there was no violence or gory what so ever, which should have been included because in the real story, Orpheus gets ripped apart. Secondly, the ending. THE ENDING! A happy ending? No way. The whole part where Orfeo “pretended” to just be a minstrel to see if his steward was still loyal made it seem like a whole new story was about to begin. I didn't like that at all. The author really took a stab at the ending by making it different.

Next, why the emphasis on the “impe-tree?” I really didn't understand how the importance of this tree made it resemble the true story they are trying to convey. Herodis was identified under this “impe-tree” twice in the story. Why exactly was this important? In the real story, Eurydice died because of a snakebite, nowhere in the story does she actually come back to life and live. In Sir Orfeo, Herodis doesn't die at all! It was a complete mess. I mean, I really enjoyed how Orfeo sacrificed his royalty and honor to go save his wife from who knows what. Isn't that cute??

The one thing that I really liked about this poem was the emphasis on how much going away for ten years really changed a man. Orfeo literally went from riches to rags. Weird huh? The author described Orfeo only having a “pilgrim’s cloak, neither a tunic or a hat or shirt or anything like that” (228-230). Also, at the end of the story, he is described with having, “How long the hair is on his head! Look how his beard hangs down to his knee! He is as wrinkled as a tree!” (508-510). You can just imagine the way he looks by this description. It really shows how long Orfeo has been gone that not even his own people can recognize him.

Sir Orfeo

I’m not sure how much I enjoyed this tale, which could have been because I am not familiar with the origin of it.  But it began and ended like a classic fairy tale, so it was sort of boring. 

The beginning was a detailed description of a beloved, harp-playing king and beloved, beautiful queen.  The sun is shining and the flowers are blooming and everything is just perfect, which is an obvious sign that something horrible is about to happen. And it does.  But for who?

From the name of this story, it seems to want us to focus on Sir Orfeo.  It is his story about how he lost the love of his life and how he got her back and how he  - they  - lived happily ever after.  But why focus on him when you can focus on her?  What happened to him really isn’t that interesting comparably.  But I’m sure she’s got stories.

It’s like this horrible thing is only bad because it means the king has lost his queen, instead of thinking about what actually happened to her.  I’m pretty sure she’s the one worse off.  However, he’s sad, quits his job and wonders in the forest.  It’d be one thing if he said, “Alright I’m leaving to go get my wife back,” but he doesn’t.  It seemed more pathetic than romantic to me.

They spend such little time wondering about Herodis and where she was and how and who and this evil king who kidnaps women for no reason.  I was confused and disturbed by the descriptions of the people in the castle.  Some didn’t have a head or arms and were wounded and were on fire and drowning.  I’m not entirely sure what that means, but I don’t think it’s a good thing.  However, when Orfeo and Herodis leave the castle, they just go on living their happy fairy tale life as if it didn’t happen.  Like can there be a sequel with a fight and some revenge? Isn’t that the point of medieval romances?

This story did include the honor debate, as all of these stories do.  When the king refuses to grant Orfeo his request, Orfeo plays the honor card.  Orfeo says that he wouldn’t be a noble king if he didn’t keep his promise and grant him his wish. But what about the fact that he took your wife?  Does that make him noble?  If this guy is fine with going around taking women then I think he’d be okay with not giving you what you want.  However, the king says that Orfeo has a good argument and gives him Herodis.  If only Orfeo had requested that the king release everyone else.

Enough Already

OH JOY! He finds his lost love...Can you feel my sarcasm? Is it tangible? Because the sarcasm is so thick you should be able to physically see it from your screen.

I don’t know if it’s due to my being in both the medieval romance class and Jane Austen, but I’m just kind of, a little bit, really sick and tired of romance. Maybe it’s because I was once really obsessed with Greek and Roman mythology that I’m slightly biased towards the version where Eurydice dies and Orpheus done screws up and loses her in the end. Who knows. Either way, this version bored me. I’m a cynic. Sue me.

My eyeballs must permanently be stuck in an upright position...it’s literally the same story we’ve been reading all semester. Girl gets kidnapped, boy is sad, boy goes on quest, boy wins, everyone is really happy. What would have been a cool twist was having Cerberus eat Orfeo or something. Not lazily wrapping up the ending with unicorns and rainbows. Lame. The ending was so ridiculous, it’s almost as if they didn’t know how to really write it so they just threw ink across the page and said “close enough.”

I might be coming off a tad harsh...so let me say something nice. It was nifty how the ladies had falcons as pets. I liked that. I wish I had a falcon as a pet….I would totally use it to send messages...if I had people to send messages to. Damn.

Back to the story, after my sharp turn down the rabbit hole, I’m not sure if it was a direct reference to the original but the name dropping of “snakes that past him glide” (253) was interesting. That whole section was actually interesting. It detailed his descent(ten bloody years) into a hermit, comparing and contrasting his nobility to the poor rank he fell to. “Ermine robes...leaves and grass...castles...freezing weather…” (241-247). It really brought into perspective this King Orfeo lost everything when he lost his love. Same ol’ story but it was a nice few lines.

Lastly, the appendix, let me just take a moment to revel in the appendix. “...like smoke dispersing in air, she was gone” (498-499). Beautiful. I love this version. Just the tragedy and the loss, I love it. Something about the hero not winning pleases me.

Side note, I looked up the different types of harps, because I was curious if he had a mini harp or something, and there are a lot of harps in the world. Even a harp guitar.

This is obviously not a harp guitar.

The Classics Never Die

It's been how many thousands of years, and Greek mythology still informs how much of Western culture? It doesn't matter; it's so interesting to see how these legends evolved!

Sir Orfeo is a retelling of the Orpheus legend, which is one of my favorite Greek myths of all time - emphasis on the retelling of the story, because it isn't the same as the original myth. To be fair, ancient Greek myths were so heavily regionalized and re-purposed (depending on who was in charge at the time) that it's hard to find just one to be considered canon, so maybe Sir Orfeo isn't as far off-base as I think it is. Honestly, who knows? 

The first thing that popped into my head about Sir Orfeo is that, aside from the Breton influence there, it almost seems to be a convergence of two myths rather than just Orpheus's tale. The abduction of Herodis into the "underworld" has much more in common with the legend of Persephone and Hades than it does in the so-called "standard" Orpheus myth, where [SPOILER]: Herodis (Eurydice) is killed by a snakebite, and Orfeo/Orpheus descends to rescue her. 

Thracian Girl Carrying the Head of Orpheus on His Lyre, Gustave Moreau, 1865

I thought it was interesting that the story's ending was changed into a happy one. I don't know why the ending was changed - my guess it was an attempt by the author to make the story more accessible to a newer, more modern audience? But several of the stories we've read were incredibly brutal and violent. What makes a husband losing his wife through his lack of willpower/emotional devastation and then being torn apart by drunk Dionysus groupies any different than a head getting chopped off or a poker up the ass? All of those things kind of exist in the same vein. There's no reason the author couldn't make it more like a traditional romance, unrealistic violence and all. 

This story was a change, because there wasn't really any violence or political intrigue. It wasn't quite... boring, but it also wasn't as bombastic as, say, the Knight of the Cart or the Knight's Tale. 

Not present in the story: rippling muscles.

Also not present: pretty much any action at all.

The one thing that irritated me about Sir Orfeo is that there isn't a reason given as to why Herodis is abducted. It just seems like the king of the underworld showed up in a dream and kind of told her he was gonna grab her for no good reason. Am I missing something? 

Overall, I really liked this story, if only because I enjoy the Orpheus legend and all its various forms, even Tennessee Williams' Orpheus Descending which follows the legend but... in a really abstract way? What even happened there? Anyway, Sir Orfeo is an interesting take on a very archetypal myth. 

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