Balance of Power

As per usual, women of medieval romance appear subservient to men in Geoffrey Chaucer’s “The Knight’s Tale,” the first story of The Canterbury Tales. After all, it appears that Emelye, the beautiful maiden, is basically objectified the entire way through the story, making her seem powerless and meaningless. There are, however, times when women are more powerful than they first appear because at times they have independent agency.

First, women exercise control over the health of men. When Arcita, one of the two imprisoned Theban knights, is exiled and can no longer seem Emelye, he starts to pine away. Eventually, things get so bad that he becomes emaciated to the point of being forever unrecognizable to those who previously knew him. At first, this situation seems like that of a child who goes on a hunger strike until he gets the toy he wants, which would further reduce Emelye’s status as a person; however, Arcita’s emotions are more robust than that. Chaucer’s knight explains that Arcita suffers from the “loveres maladye” (l. 1373), which supports the idea that Arcita truly does feel drawn to Emelye in an intimate, interpersonal way. Not only does Emelye influence the health of the more powerful men, but it appears she is also (at least to some degree) a person.

The influence of various women over the lives of men also shows that they hold some kind of power. When Theseus prepares to kill Palomon and Arcita, the queen and the women of the court begin to weep and beg Theseus to spare them. While this act requires the agency of a man, Chaucer displays that they help Theseus to act with a more profound agency: “And though he first for ire quook and sterte, . . . / And although that his ire hir gilt accused, / Yet in his resoun he hem bothe excused” (ll. 1762, 1765-6). They awaken reason in Theseus, which enables him to judge more wisely. Women, typically seen as unreasonable and overemotional, are actually the most reasonable people in this scene.

            Let’s not forget the fact that they save the knights’ lives.

 

Not such a strong knight anymore, eh?

            Finally, the women are able to express their desires, which raises them to personhood. Before the beginning of the grand tournament to decide who she shall wed, Emelye prays at the temple of Diana that she shall not have to marry either knight. Although her request is refused, the fact that she is able to make it is extraordinary because it shows that she is not a thing but rather a person with her own agenda.

            So, is this a feminist text? I’d say no. Really, it’s not even a proto-feminist text; however, I do think that Chaucer does an excellent job of balancing the power of men and women. Though they are unequal due to a difference in types of power (one group has physical and political dominance, and the other group has spiritual and emotional dominance), they are both equal in the fact that they have power. That seems too important to overlook.

Frontseat-driving the Plot From Horseback

It’s been interesting to see that the strain possible in relationships was just as applicable during the Middle Ages as it is today. We’ve got two lovebirds who are positively infatuated with each other (and we all know at least one couple that’s like that). As per the norm, their love quickly enters the deadly “Honeymoon Phase,” where the relationships basically end up alienating everyone around them; however, unlike in reality, once Erec alienates his equivalent of a modern squad, Enide tries to convince him that he’s being dishonorable.

Probably exactly what the other knights felt.

The resulting struggle and the events leading up to it are perfect examples of how both characters drive the plot. Erec is the prime mover during the first part of the story, doing combat with the rude knight over who has the fairest maiden. Enide soon joins him in equal importance, since she is the maiden who Erec is trying to defend. Importantly, he sees Enide praying, and “his strength [increases]” (de Troyes 12), making his success partly dependent upon her.

           Later, after the marriage scene upon which George R. R. Martin apparently patterned all of his lengthy descriptions, Enide becomes the driver of the plot once she tries to convince Erec to return to his knightly duties, which results in the aforementioned conflict.

Thank heaven you've explained sixteen times what a brocade doublet looks like.

Whereas the narrative's focus follows Erec for much of the story, here it switches to Enide, again making her of equal importance. Of course, Erec worsens things by keeping himself separated from Enide, both physically and emotionally: “And yet I realized how little respect you have for me” (de Troyes 38). This returns him to the forefront as a second driver of the conflict alongside Enide. Finally, Enide’s plans to assassinate him and subsequent rejection of those plans yet again designate her as a crucial character.

            Perhaps the most thought-provoking quality of Erec’s and Enide’s dual importance is what it means for gender roles. In the beginning of the story, Erec derives much of his strength from Enide, which empowers her as a character by giving her power over him. During the later murder plot, Enide controls Erec’s life, literally deciding whether he’ll live or die. If that isn’t a form of empowerment, I don’t know what is. Even if Enide’s power alongside Erec’s can be debated, her power over Chrétien de Troyes' narrative cannot. Because she is so crucial to the plot, she is already empowered in a way that cannot be stripped from her.

            Still, that doesn’t mean the romance is an appeal for women’s empowerment. It’s not a feminist text; it’s not even a proto-feminist text (although now I’m approaching a cultural quagmire I’d rather not enter). However, it’s important to remember that Chrétien wrote in a sexist era, so any points scored in the area of female empowerment shouldn’t be dismissed easily.

            Is Chrétien a table-flipping gender revolutionary? No, but he does seem to recognize that women can be just as important as men.