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Marie De FranceA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Although recent literary scholarship posits that the Lais were likely the work of several authors, Claude Fauchet attributed them to a single woman named Marie de France in 1581, causing them to be regarded as the work of an individual author. The author, Marie de France, becomes conflated with the narrator in Guigemar when she addresses the crowd, saying, “hear, my lords, the words of Marie, who, when she has the opportunity, does not squander her talents” (43). Here, referring to herself in the third person, Marie aligns herself with her good reputation as a storyteller, rather than with any personal wish for power. She makes an appeal to the fact that “good material for a story” needs to be “well told”—a feat that only skilled narrators can manage (43). This sentiment is repeated throughout the Lais, drawing attention to the narrator’s continuous presence. Although the narrator derives her material from the Bretons, she makes clear that the lays are the fruit of her personal craft, when she specifies that they have been made into poems and were “worked on […] late into the night” (41).
When Marie the narrator addresses the topic of slander against her good name, she switches to first-person, making the bold and courageous assertion that “just because spiteful tittle-tattlers attempt to find fault with me I do not intend to give up” (43). In her quest to relate “stories which I know to be true”, she is as unswerving and keen as the most valiant knight in her tales (43). Throughout the Lais, she keenly inserts adages such as “I tell you truly” and “I heard tell”, establishing her personal proximity to the truth of the story as she heard it from the Bretons. She also periodically acknowledges the limits of her knowledge; for example, in Chaitivel she admits that she does not know the names of the four knights who court the lady, and that she cannot tell more about Lanval’s fate because “no one has heard any more about him” (81). These omissions in the stories are a realistic touch, as it is inevitable that details would have been lost in the oral transmission of stories. Marie’s admission to incomplete knowledge makes her appealingly humble and trustworthy as a narrator.
A narratorial voice, which offers either moral commentary or incites the audience to listen closely at a moment of suspense, is peppered throughout the Lais. For example, in Equitan, the comment that “such is the nature of love that no one under its sway can retain command over reason,” functions autonomously of the narrative and would appear to be the opinion of Marie, the narrator (56). While on its own, the comment could sound earnest, in the context of a narrative where a foolish, hedonistic king gives up his power out of lust for another man’s wife, the observation reads as ironic. Perhaps the narrator is mocking her protagonist, inviting the audience to laugh along with her.
The beautiful lady who is the subject and object of amorous attentions is a dominant archetype in the Lais. The description of Le Fresne is fairly typical of the Lais’ female protagonists: “[T]here was no fairer, no more courtly girl in Brittany, for she was noble and cultivated, both in appearance and in speech. No one who had seen her would have failed to love and admire her greatly” (64). The lady’s beauty, good manners and ability to inspire devotion, cause her to resemble the Virgin Mary, the prime female object of worship in the Lais’ Catholic setting. On his approach of the lady, the chivalric lover treats her as a goddess or saint, offering her gifts, compliments, and beseeching her to bestow her favor on him. In a similar manner to a religion, the lady becomes a motivating force for the knight in all his deeds. For example, in Chaitivel, the four lovers “wore her love token, a ring, sleeve or pennant, and used her name as a rallying cry” (106). Thus, the knights joust for the lady as they might for a patron saint, as their constancy to her has a religious element.
The lady is guarded, sometimes physically by an old, jealous husband who imprisons her in a tower, and sometimes by her personal desire to maintain a good reputation and not appear promiscuous. She therefore does not give into her lover’s demands without preconditions. For example, in Yonec, the lady asserts the condition “that she would make him her lover, provided he believed in God,” while in Equitan, the lady tells her socially superior suitor that she needs time to reflect on his offer, for fear of compromising her own position (88). Such hesitation ensures that the lady has the courtly modesty and social awareness that the audience would expect before she gives into her desires, which are no less enthusiastic than the knight’s.
In some Lais, the lady’s desire to receive amorous attentions is such that she makes the first move. For example, Guilliadun actively seeks out Eliduc, the knight of whose virtues she had “heard tell”, and invites him to “relax for a while with her”, taking him by the hand and asking him to sit by her on a bed (114). She is actively flirtatious with this man of good repute, before a personified Love “summoned her to love him” and makes her “go pale and sigh” (115). Although, as in Guilliadun’s case, the lady may be bold in her approach of a man, when she truly desires and loves him, suffering is an essential component of the experience. The lady’s capacity to suffer when she is deprived of her knight would endear her to a Catholic audience, who would be familiar with notions of female suffering from their knowledge of the Virgin Mary’s suffering for Jesus.
The Lais feature variations on the theme of the virtuous, love-suffering lady, and they differ in their attitudes to premarital sex and adultery. The narrator does not defame an adulterous woman if she falls into the category of a mal mariée who was forcibly married off to an older man she does not love. However, Bisclavret and Equitan both feature women who are punished and denounced for disloyalty to a worthy husband. In these Lais, the ladies resemble Eve, the first woman, who betrayed God and Adam in favor of a third party, Satan. Like Eve, the women start off fair and courtly before losing all of their appeal when they sin. The narrator relishes in relating how “evil can easily rebound on him who seeks another’s misfortune,” as she shows the transgressive ladies gaining a physical aspect that mirrors their evilness when they are scalded to death, as in Equitan, or disfigured, as in Bisclavret (60). However, the Lais do not universally doom a traitorous woman. In Le Fresne, the woman who betrays her neighbor by defaming her is punished but eventually forgiven when the twins that caused her shame are celebrated at the family’s reunification. Arguably, the Lais differ in their treatment of transgressive women because they were derived from multiple sources. The original storytellers themselves likely had varying opinions on the subjects of female treachery and marital infidelity.
Another variation on the lady is Lanval’s fairy, who combines superlative feminine beauty with more power than any man in the Lais. The fairy approximates the appearance of a powerful knight when she rides into Lanval’s trial on the “white palfrey” of nobility, with “a sparrowhawk on her wrist and behind her there followed a dog” (80). Here, the bird of prey alludes to her huntress-like nature, while the dog symbolizes her ability to inspire loyalty (80). Her courtly authority and unrivalled power to manifest and create likens her to Marie, the narrator. Through the figure of the fairy, Marie fantasizes about what a lady could do if she had all the gifts known to humanity —feminine beauty and softness combined with the creative potency associated with men. The fairy is not merely a lover but a transformative, awe-inspiring figure.
The knight—a man who wears metal armor, serves a sovereign lord, and competes in jousting tournaments that support his own personal honor—features in all of the Lais. Apart from Le Fresne and Laüstic, all the Lais are named after a particular Breton knight, which categorizes the stories in the genre of chivalric adventures. However, the Lais are less concerned with the knights’ professional conquests than with their romantic ones. With the exception of Bisclavret, who serves a king, the knights’ main purpose in the Lais is to win and be reunited with their beloved lady, after surmounting several obstacles. Character-wise, the typical knight hero is like Lanval, endowed with “valour, generosity, beauty and prowess” (73). The knight’s success on the battlefield and in ladies’ hearts often makes him the subject of envy and slanderous talk, which, as in Eliduc’s case, forces him to head abroad and serve a foreign lord. Knights in the Lais are wanderers who need a life of action in order to earn and maintain their fame.
While the knight is a hero, he can often find himself in the position of an underdog who must prove himself to earn his reputation and a lady. For example, the knight in Laüstic endures the fact that his beloved is his neighbor’s wife and therefore out of bounds; the knight in Les Deus Amants must bear the weight of his lady on the steep climb of a mountain if he is to marry her; and Lanval is “very downcast in another land”, not knowing where to seek assistance. The knight’s position of misfortune elicits the audience’s sympathy and sets up a contrast with how far he stands to rise during the course of his adventure. The knight is hardly ever autonomous; he must nearly always seek help to get what he wants, either from the lady, who is his co-conspirator in the romance, or by some supernatural agent. The knight in Les Deus Amants, receives the assistance of a potion and the inspiration of his beloved, who has starves herself to be a lighter burden when he carries her up the mountain. However, the knight, a mere mortal, must face the reality of death, as in Les Deus Amants, when he falls victim to his body’s human weakness, or in Yonec when the spikes kill the knight disguised as a bird disguise.
The knight’s ability to be wounded, both in battle and in love, is a key part of his appeal. Both Lanval and Guigemar come under suspicion when they show “no visible interest in love” (44). Guigemar is considered “a lost cause”, while Lanval is accused of having “no desire for women” and enjoying himself with the “well-trained young men” in his company (76). The charge of sodomy would be a grave transgression, both within the Catholic Church and the code of chivalry. While a modern reader would be sympathetic to Guigemar and Lanval’s deviance from the heterosexual norm, by the standards of Marie de France’s medieval audience, their failure to be ardent towards women would seem like an unforgivable defect. Given that both knights eventually succumb to the charms of women, their previous states of indifference serve as a dramatic foil that heightens the contrast with their eventual love-struck nature.
The knights in the Lais are distinguished by their loyalty to a particular lady, as the ability to serve one woman reinforces the chivalric wanderer’s sense of identity. However, in the case of Eliduc, the matter becomes more complex, as his professional need to exchange one location for another leads to a similar change in his amorous desires. When he finds that Guilliadun replaces Guildelüec in his affections, he believes that his “heart was firmly trapped,” associating the change with having to shift his allegiance from one king and country to another (117). When he and Guildelüec decide that he must dissolve his marriage and be with Guilliadun, it is a symbolic acknowledgement that his travels and adventures have fundamentally changed his identity, and that his loyalties must shift accordingly.
In the time the Lais were written, women were married upon reaching sexual maturity, usually in their mid-teens, while men waited until they came of age in the world and began to earn an income. This meant that men were generally five to ten years older than their wives. Still, both in the Lais and in the medieval popular consciousness, marriages where there was a marked age difference between bride and groom came under scrutiny and were the subject of censure and ridicule. Such marriages went against the natural law that dictated that nubile young maidens should couple with virile young knights, and not men old enough to be their fathers.
For dynastic reasons, many of the women in the Lais are married off to rich, old men whom they do not love. Unable to impregnate their wives, these men fear that their spouses will be unfaithful to them. According to the narrator, “all old men are jealous and hate to be cuckolded” (46). As a result, they imprison their wives in high towers and ensure that they are guarded by a crew of elders. In the case of Guigemar, the guardian is “an old priest with hoary-white hair” who “had lost his lower members, otherwise he would not have been trusted” (46). In Yonec, the guardian is a widowed elderly sister (46). The gerontocracy formed by the husband and his elderly accomplices represents a defunct social order blocking the natural course of love and reinforcing the idea that the marriage is invalid. This, coupled with the sadism of imprisoning a beautiful young woman in a tower, invites the audience to be sympathetic to the unfaithful young couple and to overlook the mortal sin of adultery. Nature overtakes social convention in the end, as in the cases of Yonec and Milun, where the illegitimate son who was the fruit of the adulterous union determines to kill the mother’s original elderly husband and avenge his father’s death.
A variation on the old jealous husband is the father in Les Deus Amants, who keeps his daughter unmarried as a “comfort” to himself after the death of his wife (82). In order to “prevent anyone seeking his daughter’s hand” he devises a plan that is analogous to imprisoning her in a tower, when he demands that the only successful suitor will be a man who can carry her up a high mountain without stopping (82). When the man who loves his daughter achieves this feat, only to die and subsequently bring on the daughter’s death, a young life is wasted in what constitutes a sacrifice of a new generation. As with the aged husbands, the elderly father’s unnatural wish to keep himself attached to youth results in death and destruction. The message of the Lais is that old characters must always cede to the interests of the young, and that attempts to block the natural order result in tragedy.
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