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Although chivalry is often thought of as a unified code of conduct, the idea and practice of chivalry evolved throughout the Middle Ages, incorporating elements from different (and sometimes competing) value systems. The word itself comes from the French term for “horse” (“cheval”), and as an ethos, chivalry initially revolved around the virtues and duties of medieval Europe’s mounted warrior class: knights. In this sense, the notion of chivalry entailed bravery, honor, skill in combat, and loyalty to the lord to whom the knight had pledged service (typically in exchange for an allotment of land). As time went on, however, the definition expanded to include Christian virtues like piety, humility, and purity, as well as the concept of courtly love: a knight’s undying and ennobling devotion to an unattainable and often married woman.
All of these strands of chivalry are present in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, but they are not equally weighted. For one, Lady Bertilak’s attempted seduction of Sir Gawain brings to the foreground the obvious contradictions between courtly love, allegiance to one’s lord (or host), and Christian chastity. Lady Bertilak frames Sir Gawain’s failure to woo her and his resistance to her advances as a breach of his obligations as a knight, but as he himself realizes, he can’t fulfill her demands without violating his code of conduct in other respects: “His courtesy concerned him, lest crass he appear [in refusing Lady Bertilak], / But more his soul’s mischief, should he commit sin / And belie his loyal oath to the lord of that house” (1773-1775). In this way, the poet subtly satirizes the courtly love tradition so characteristic of chivalry.
Sir Gawain critiques King Arthur’s court in a similar fashion, drawing attention to the emptiness of the chivalric code in this particular setting. According to the poet’s depiction, the court verges on decadent; it practices a highly stylized form of gallantry and civility that grows out of both the courtly love tradition and the feudal hierarchy, but which the poet implies is somewhat hollow at its core. The poet introduces the court at the height of Christmas revelry, details the opulence of the feast and decorations at length, and describes Arthur himself as “[t]alking before the high table of trifles fair” (108)—that is, conversing in a way that is aesthetically pleasing but lacking in substance. The fact that none of Arthur’s knights are initially willing to take up the Green Knight’s challenge further underscores the idea that there is something empty about the kind of chivalry the court practices; the knights joust with one another in tournaments, and King Arthur enjoys hearing stories about feats of arms, but the company largely lacks the courage to face the reality of mortal danger, as the Knight himself points out: “Where is now your arrogance and your awesome deeds, / Your valor and your victories and your vaunting words?” (311-312).
Ultimately, Gawain accepts the Green Knight’s challenge, thereby demonstrating both his bravery and his fealty to his lord in the process. Nevertheless, the work is not a straightforward endorsement of chivalry even in this more traditional and martial sense. In accepting Lady Bertilak’s girdle, concealing it from his host in defiance of their agreement, and flinching when he presents his neck to the Green Knight’s ax, Sir Gawain displays both disloyalty to his host and cowardice. Notably, however, the Green Knight himself not only forgives Gawain, but suggests that his failings aren’t as terrible as Gawain might fear; Gawain, the Green Knight suggests, comes as close to embodying true chivalric ideals as anyone can in a fallen and imperfect world. Gawain’s newfound awareness of his own weakness makes him a better knight going forward, as he has become aware of his need to safeguard against the temptation to approach chivalry simply as a matter of reputation and outward shows of courtesy.
The Middle Ages were a tumultuous era. Sir Gawain, for instance, was written near the end of a century that witnessed a series of catastrophic famines, the Black Death, and a major popular uprising (the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381). In this chaotic climate, the legendary reign of King Arthur was idealized as a time of peace, prosperity, and social stability, while the natural world—or even less thoroughly “civilized” areas of human settlement—was viewed with some suspicion.
These tendencies are in many ways present in Sir Gawain, which stresses not only the opulence of Camelot, but also its orderliness; during feasts, for instance, the lords and ladies are seated by rank, “[t]he best […] above, as best it beseemed” (73). This strict observation of social hierarchy has far-reaching implications, recalling the “Great Chain of Being”: the medieval notion that the structure of feudal society constituted one part of a much broader hierarchy beginning with God and proceeding downwards through angels, humans, animals, plants, and minerals. The court’s reaffirmation of social rank is therefore also a reaffirmation of the orderly arrangement of all of creation in Christian thought, and in particular of humanity’s supremacy over the natural world.
Supremacy is more a matter of wishful thinking than reality, despite the belief systems in place at this time in history. First, the festivities at Camelot are interrupted by the arrival of the Green Knight, whose color links him to the natural world and whose brusque demeanor places him at odds with the courteous manners of the court. Then, Gawain is forced to venture far beyond the borders of Arthur’s kingdom, where both humanity and nature are unruly and dangerous: “Now with serpents he wars, now with savage wolves, / Now with wild men of the woods, that watched from the rocks” (720-721).
Gawain’s journey, as well as the conflict between civilization and nature, culminate in his second encounter with the “rugged and rude” (2099) Green Knight. Here, however, the conflict takes an unexpected turn, as the Knight reveals himself to be Lord Bertilak—a nobleman whose household rivals King Arthur’s in splendor and chivalry—while the ostensibly more cultured Gawain violates the terms of an oath he swore and succumbs to an animalistic urge to survive. The implication seems to be that humanity can’t stand solely above and separate from nature, but must rather exist within it.
While this idea might initially seem at odds with the poem’s Christian worldview, it demonstrates how the work retools pagan symbolism for Christian purposes. Nature, after all, has its own forms of orderliness—most notably, its annual “rebirth” in spring, to which Sir Gawain devotes a great deal of attention and which corresponds well to Christian notions of resurrection and redemption. This link explains the significance of the Green Chapel, which embodies both Christian civilization and untamed nature; the spiritual rebirth Gawain experiences as a result of his encounter with the Green Knight hinges on his reckoning with the fact that his frailty and mortality make him a part of nature himself.
The term “hero’s journey,” popularized by scholar of comparative mythology Joseph Campbell, refers to a plot structure in which a protagonist leaves home on some sort of quest, undergoes a test or crisis, and returns transformed. According to Campbell, the hero’s journey is the template for essentially all stories. This notion is debatable, but it applies to many myths, legends, and folktales, Sir Gawain included.
In fact, part of what sets Sir Gawain apart from many other medieval romances is how little attention it pays to the physical trials Gawain undergoes; on his way to the Green Chapel, Gawain does battle with a number of monsters and enemies, but the poet mentions these adventures only in passing, saying, “So many were the wonders he wandered among / That to tell but the tenth part would tax my wits” (718-719). Instead, the poet focuses on an entirely moral crisis: Lady Bertilak’s attempted seduction of Sir Gawain, and the temptation posed by her girdle. The spiritual danger of this episode is made all the more striking by the fact that it coincides with a period of complete physical safety, as Gawain rests, feasts, and spends long mornings in bed in the comfort of Lord Bertilak’s castle. What is at stake in Gawain’s quest is clearly not his life but rather his soul.
This particularly Christian twist on the genre becomes clearer in the work’s final section. On the one hand, Gawain’s quest seems to be a complete failure. Not only does he take Lady Bertilak’s girdle (breaking his oath to her husband in the process), but he overlooks the significance of the action until it’s pointed out to him by the Green Knight; in other words, he doesn’t recognize the moment as a test of character, let alone one that he has failed. However, within the story’s Christian framework, his failure is inevitable. Because humanity is a fallen race, perfection is out of reach, even for a man as virtuous as Gawain; most important is the acknowledgment of one’s own frailty. In this respect, Gawain succeeds, returning to Camelot with knowledge of his own weakness: “And so when praise and high prowess have pleased my heart, / A look at this love-lace will lower my pride” (2437-2438).
At this point in the poem, the idea of grace enters. For a Christian hero, success is only possible through God, and it is granted, not earned. Though he is aware of Gawain’s sin, Lord Bertilak—whose links to nature and Morgan le Fay suggest he is a supernatural and godlike figure—decides not to deliver the death blow Gawain has “earned,” but simply a scratch. Lord Bertilak’s mercy on Gawain echoes the Christian understanding of redemption.
By Anonymous