Christianising England
27 December 2020 - Adelaide

tFor a rather short, and somewhat uncomplicated story, there seems to have been an awful lot of writing having been done on this work. In fact, there is even a translation by Tolkien, but then again he did happen to be an expert in Medieval Literature, so I probably shouldn’t be all that surprised. In fact, it sort of makes me wonder if 600 years down the track whether some of the books that have been written now would attract the same level of criticism. Probably, but then again that sort of also comes down to the question as to whether they survive. For instance, a computer virus (or an electro-magnetic storm) could easily wipe out all the information that we currently have.

tLike, it isn’t as if we have all of the works that were written at the time, and we certainly don’t have all of the works that were written during the Greco-Roman era, but that is probably a good thing considering that there are Roman writers out there that point out that a lot of the stuff that was written is absolute garbage. In fact, some classical scholars, who have discovered lost works from that era, also realise that a lot of these works are absolute rubbish, so what has survived probably survived because, well, they were worth retaining.

tWhat we seem to be seeing with this work though is a merging of the pre-Christian English literature with the contemporary Medieval literature. From reading this book I get the feeling that much of the King Arthur mythos is actually pre-Christian, and what has happened is that the Medieval writers have been creating retellings to basically Christianise the stories. Further, since this is medieval literature, we are also seeing the additions of the chiverallic code to create these knights that are pure of heart, and are resistant to sexual temptations, something that seems to be consistent throughout these stories. Then again, that shouldn’t be all that surprising, considering that the lords would spend a lot of time out of the house, while their wives would wander around alone.

tThis is a clear theme from this story, since Gawain is staying at the castle of Sir Bertilac, and every day Bertilac goes out hunting, leaving Gawain and his wife alone. Each day the wife attempts to seduce Gawain, and Gawain continues to rebuff her. This happens until the wife gives Bertilac her garter, which is sort of something that a male that is not married to a woman should not really possess. Having a woman’s garter (which was a belt that held up the stockings), suggests that the man removed it, or that he had a bit of a twist with the woman.

tThe interesting thing is that it turns out that Bertilac’s wife is none other than Morgana le Fey, Arthur’s mortal enemy. She seems to be one of those characters that pops up regularly in the Arthurian legends, and when you see her you realise that nothing good can come from the encounter. Of course, the world in which we are exploring is a very male-centric world, and women seem to exist either as servants, or as wicked temptresses that seek to destroy the purity of the knight.

tIn fact, it sort of reminds me of a scene in the Quest for the Holy Grail, where one of the knights lands up in a castle full of virgins, and he is doing his best to resist their advances and at the point where he caves in, the other knights pour in and rescue to him save his chastity, of course to the knight’s objections. Yet this scene is a classic example of how things were viewed back in those days (or even today amongst certain circles) and that is that if you succumb to temptation it is because your mind has been lead astray, and you need to be rescued – and if you object it is not because you have changed your mind, but because you have succumbed to the devil.

tThen we have the Green Knight, who seems to symbolise the old, pre-Christian, English world, and the fight between Gawain and the Green Knight seems to represent the struggle between the new order that is Christianity, and the old order. Of course, the tale of King Arthur itself seems to represent the seismic shift in English culture at the time, as it moved into the more modern world that was considered to be the Christian world, a world at the time that seemed to represent civilisation. Of course this no doubt was inherited from the Roman roots in that everything outside of the boundaries of the Roman empire was considered savage and barbaric.

tIt is an interesting poem though, and it certainly shows us what literature was like back then. Mind you, one of the interesting facets of this work is the inclusion of the original text, or at lest a selection of it. Once again it goes to remind us of how different Old English was to the English that we are familiar with these days. In fact, from what I gather, the changes in English are much more than the changes in French and German (though of course these languages have also evolved over time).

Second reading: A humorously subversive piece of Arthurian literature. As Gawain attempts to conform himself to competing virtues — chastity and courtesy, for example — so the poet pokes fun at the chivalric tradition. We have here a very self-aware author with an acute understanding of cultural irony. The content itself is ripe in religious syncretism and suitable for modern critiques. The language is lively and vivid.


First reading: This is perhaps one of the most interesting poems I have had the pleasure of reading. The wealth and confluence of religious and cultural themes is akin to the poetic richness and ideological depth of Shelley’s Frankenstein. Both authors acknowledge the influence of former traditions on their current literary culture, yet simultaneously present their work as transcending the past. In the same spirit, the Gawain Poet tips his hat to the ancients, explicitly referencing the role Homer and Virgil played in the founding of Britain but also modeling the protagonist’s wanderings after that of the classics. Similar to how St. Augustine models his Confessions after the classical pilgrimage trope but also deviates from the pagans in the Christian sense, so the Gawain poem follows suit. In other words, the Gawain poet, like St. Augustine, appropriates the classical journey motif and fashions it to his own culture.

Speaking of that culture, upon my original reading, I did not realize how significantly the Western spirit permeates this work. It is easy to get caught up in what is a paradoxically detail-oriented and grand poetic style — style comparable to the adventures sought in Tolkien’s Hobbit and Lewis’s Chronicles — and not see the author’s attention to transgression and forgiveness. I must admit, I loved the scenes of Jove and cheer at the dinner feasts, comparable to Beowulf and cronies in the mead hall. Nevertheless, Jackson says: “In the Middle Ages, every act of reading was a moral endeavor.” It is so with this poem. As Gawain strikes a seemingly divine contract with the Green Knight, he is faced with temptations to pride, lust, and the loss of his chivalric honor. But it so happens that the Green Knight grants him mercy, a mercy that he does not deserve because of his deception and attempted violation of his fate.

interesting

I suppose I have a weakness for medieval literature. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, as one of the earliest surviving works of English literature, is also a prime example of the virtues that the knights of King Arthur’s Round Table adhered to and the ideals to which they aspired. Simon Armitage’s brilliant translation breathes new life not only into the characters but also into the poetry itself.

I found poetry that I truly love - it's a New Year miracle!

This was so entertaining. I love narrative poems because they tell a story that I can appreciate, that I can follow, that I can engage with. I found all of those with 'Sir Gawain and the Green Knight'. Simon Armitage's translation was so fun. He tried to stay true to the original, and relied on all those poetic conventions to make it more authentic. All those poetic techniques help lift the story and make it more pleasurable to read. The nursey rhyme keep the narrative flowing, and I didn't want to stop reading it because I got so involved.

I think this was a really good translation. I'm gonna try Tolkien's next, I think, to compare and see which is better. Did I actually like the story (which is obviously a yes) or did I like the translation of it? It's hard to tell when I've only read one, so I'm definitely going to branch out and experiment with more!

In regard to the story, I thought it was fantastic. So classic. It was funny and stupid, yet so interesting and FUN (I can't stop using that word but its so appropriate!). It was excellent. I'm really glad I finally read this! Going to do some digging to see if I can find any other Arthurian literature around (which I'm sure there's plenty!).

Quina absoluta meravella a tots els nivells.
Pel text, perquè és una combinació espectacular d'aventures, intimisme i poesia, que pivota al voltant dels valors artúrics de la lleialtat, l'honor i la virtut. Però per la traducció de Rosa Badia, que el fa molt i molt proper i modern, i construeix un pont de sis segles entre els nostres dos mons.
Un imprescindible a la meva biblioteca personal, al qual hi tornaré sovint perquè m'ha encisat.

Em confirma que l'adaptació al cinema de Lowery és una altra obra mestra insuperable, a més.

Sir Gawain of Camelot encounters, in this poem of the late 14th century, a most formidable antagonist – a giant green knight who displays supernatural powers and makes a deadly pact with Gawain at King Arthur’s court one New Year’s Day. And in the process of trying to fulfill that grim bargain, even at the cost of his life, Sir Gawain, as depicted by the unknown poet who composed this work of narrative verse, reveals much regarding the medieval world within which this poem was written.

While scholars of medieval literature have suggested a number of possible authors of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, all that can be said with reasonable certainty is that the unknown poet who composed this poem probably did so sometime between the years 1375 and 1400 – or, to put it another way, in the England of King Richard II or King Henry IV. Interesting to wonder if either of these kings – both of whose reigns were later dramatized by William Shakespeare – might have heard this poem recited at court.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight begins as King Arthur, his wife Queen Guinevere, and the knights of the Round Table sit down for a New Year’s feast. As it is a feast-day, King Arthur announces that he will not begin to dine until some marvellous event has occurred. And just then, the feast receives an unexpected visitor – an unknown knight of gigantic stature: “A fellow fiercely grim,/And all a glittering green” (p. 26).

It is not just that he is clad in green; his horse is green, and his skin and hair and beard and everything about him are green. Clearly, King Arthur has the marvel that he was seeking.

And the Green Knight, bearing a huge Viking-style battle-axe, has a challenge for the knights of the Round Table:

"I crave in this court a Christmas game,
For it is Yuletide and New Year, and young men abound here.
If any in this household is so hardy in spirit,
Of such mettlesome mind and so madly rash
As to strike a strong blow in return for another,
I shall offer to him this fine axe freely;
This axe, which is heavy enough, to handle as he please.
And I shall bide the first blow, as bare as I sit here….
Then shall I stand up to his stroke, quite still on this floor –
So long as I shall have leave to launch a return blow unchecked." (pp. 31-32)

Many of the Arthurian knights whose names are familiar to readers of Sir Thomas Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur – Agravaine and Ywain, Sir Bors and Sir Bedivere and Sir Lionel and even Sir Launcelot – are present at the feast; but of all the knights, the only one willing to take up the challenge is Sir Gawain.

It is worth mentioning here that the Sir Gawain of this poem is quite different from the Gawain of Malory’s epic. In Malory’s work, Gawain is selfish, judgemental, and not unfrequently treacherous – a foil to truer-hearted knights like Launcelot and Gareth. In Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, by contrast, Gawain is brave and humble, always acting with goodwill and out of good intentions. Indeed, Gawain, sitting at Guinevere’s side, seems concerned to protect his queen from the horrifying sight of the Green Knight – and to keep King Arthur from impetuously taking up the challenge himself.

Accepting the Green Knight’s challenge, and binding himself to the grim bargain, Sir Gawain takes up the Norse battle-axe and strikes off the Green Knight’s head. But regular readers of Arthurian romance tales will not be surprised to hear that the story does not end there:

The fair head fell from the neck, struck the floor,
And people spurned it as it rolled around.
Blood spurted from the body, bright against the green.
Yet the fellow did not fall, nor falter one whit,
But stoutly sprang forward on legs still sturdy,
Roughly reached out among the ranks of nobles,
Seized his splendid head and straightway lifted it.
Then he strode to his steed, snatched the bridle,
Stepped into the stirrup and swung aloft,
Holding his head in his hand by the hair.
He settled himself in the saddle as steadily
As if nothing had happened to him, though he had no head. (p. 37)

The feast, I would imagine, goes uneaten. The Green Knight’s disembodied head meanwhile commands that Gawain keep his end of the bargain:

"Be prepared to perform what you promised, Gawain;
Seek faithfully till you find me, my fine fellow,
According to your oath in this hall in these knights’ hearing.
Go to the Green Chapel without gainsaying to get
Such a stroke as you have struck. Strictly you deserve
That due redemption on the day of New Year." (p. 37)

And Sir Gawain, believing that keeping to the bargain will mean his death, nonetheless is true to this word, leaving Camelot the following All Saints’ Day in order to make sure that he will have plenty of time to find the Green Chapel and fulfill his deadly bargain. His journey takes him from one vague and mythic landscape (Camelot) through some recognizably real locations of the border region between northern England and eastern Wales – Holy Head, the isles of Anglesey, the wilds of Wirral – before making his way back into the realm of the mythic.

Eventually, Sir Gawain finds himself at a castle whose lord, Sir Bertilak, offers Gawain a lavish welcome and suitably noble hospitality, saying that “God has given us of his grace good measure/In granting us such a guest as Gawain is” (p. 55). He further informs Gawain that the Green Chapel is just a short distance away – and that Gawain, with three days to spare before his New Year’s appointment, can spend those three days lodging comfortably at Bertilak’s castle.

Yet Sir Bertilak’s castle proves to be the site of further testing of Sir Gawain; for over the course of each of those three days, while Sir Bertilak is out hunting with his noble retainers, Sir Bertilak’s beautiful young wife comes to Sir Gawain’s bedchamber and offers herself to him.

As Sir Gawain struggles to resist this temptation, it is not just that Gawain is a healthy young man being invited to make love with a beautiful young woman who is alluringly dressed in “a ravishing robe that reached to the ground….Her fine-featured face and fair throat were unveiled” (p. 86). It is also that she appeals to him in terms of the conventions of courtly love that were so prevalent within the culture of medieval nobility – to wit, the idea that strong young knights and beautiful young ladies should be able to talk, in private, about matters of love, without that emotional intimacy ever leading to physical intimacy. Spoiler alert: It didn’t always work out that way.

Working from within that context, the Lady tries to tempt Gawain by appealing to his sense of knightly honour, playfully accusing him of “know[ing] nothing of noble conventions”, of being unaware that “the choicest thing in Chivalry, the chief thing praised, is the loyal sport of love” (pp. 77-78). Emphasizing that she is alone and unchaperoned, she states that “You ought to be eager to lay open to a young thing/Your discoveries in the craft of courtly love./What! Are you ignorant, with all your renown?/Or do you deem me too dull to drink in your dalliance?” (p. 78)

Truly, this temptation is multi-dimensional. If you were a real knight, you would love me. Do you even know what you’re doing as a knight? Or is it that you don’t think I’m pretty enough, or smart enough, to be worth your time?

And it creates a real moral dilemma for Gawain. On the one hand, he cannot simply reject her with harsh words; doing so would break the chivalrous code of courtly love. It would be “blackguardly”, and “his upbringing forbade him to rebuff her utterly” (pp. 83, 87). But on the other hand, if he were to succumb to her blandishments, then he would “plunge into sin,/And dishonour the owner of the house treacherously” (p. 87). For all of these reasons, the passages dealing with Gawain and the Lady are alive with sexual tension.

And as if the temptation of forbidden sensual delights is not enough, Sir Gawain faces one final test when New Year’s Day arrives and he is on his way to the Green Chapel, to face what he thinks is certain death at the hands of the Green Knight. Sir Bertilak’s servant, appointed to guide Gawain to the Green Chapel, instead emphasizes the Green Knight’s murderous cruelty, and encourages Gawain to flee:

“Therefore, good Sir Gawain, leave the grim man alone!
Ride by another route, to some region remote!
Go in the name of God, and Christ grace your fortune!
And I shall go home again and undertake
To swear solemnly by God and His saints as well…
Stoutly to keep your secret, not saying to a soul
That ever you tried to turn tail from any man I knew.” (p. 100)

Sir Gawain, “somewhat galled” at the suggestion, nonetheless replies courteously, telling the servant that “if I quit this place,/Fled from the fellow in the fashion you propose,/I should become a cowardly knight with no excuse whatever,/For I will go to the Green Chapel, to get what Fate sends” (p. 100). And thus the stage is set for Gawain’s final confrontation with the Green Knight – a Green Chapel visit that unveils a number of surprises, and that invokes familiar Arthurian characters like Merlin and Morgan le Fay.

Translator Brian Stone, a drama scholar at Great Britain’s Open University, includes with this Penguin Books edition of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight not only a helpful introduction but also six (!) critical essays that enhance the reader’s understanding of the poem, and of the world within which the poem was composed. I was struck, for example, by Stone’s suggestion that the Green Knight, with his non-human qualities, “wants and apparently needs…to bask in the light of a human virtue which he cannot himself have” (p. 125).

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, a New Year’s tale, takes place at a time of endings and beginnings, and emphasizes the importance of remaining true to one’s principles, even when one may think that all hope is lost. Considering how tough Gawain is on himself for the few times that this sorely-tempted knight fails in even a small way, I find myself thinking that it is a particularly propitious book to read at a time of year when so many of us find ourselves looking back at our failings from the previous year, and resolving to do better in the New Year to come.

Read for class

You like tales of King Arthur, yes? Perhaps, like me, you tried to read Morte D'Arthur and it didn't go so well. Try this instead. It's only about 100 pages long, it's in cool alliterative verse, and it paces well. There's nothing superfluous in the text. Gawain is a good sort of guy, only slightly boring. The Green Knight has one of the best entrances in literature.

As a bonus, try to imagine Don Quixote reading this book and acting it out. Drink some wine. You've got yourself an entertaining evening.

One of the best of the 'classic' Arthurian tales. Gawain is presented a bit differently here from many of the other ones. Usually he's a bit of a braggart and kind of a jerk, especially to women, but here he is presented as the perfect exemplar of courtoisie. He's also a bit young and still untried, so maybe that explains it for those who want to be able to have a grand unified theory of Arthuriana.

Anyway, you probably all know the story: Arthur is about to have a New Year's feast, but according to tradition is waiting for some marvel to occur. Right on cue in trots the Green Knight on his horse, a giant of a man who proceeds to trash the reputation of the entire court and dare someone to cut off his head as long as he gets to return the favour. No one makes a move and Arthur decides he better do something about this until Gawain steps up and asks to take on this quest himself. Everyone agrees and Gawain proceeds to smite the green head from the Knight's body. Everyone is fairly pleased with the result until the Green Knight gets up, picks up his smiling head, and says: "See you next year, G. Don't forget that it's my turn then." (I paraphrase, the middle english of the poet is far superior.) Needless to say everyone is a bit nonplussed by this.

The year passes and Gawain doesn't seem to do much of anything until he finally decides it's time to get out and find this green fellow and fulfill his obligation...hopefully something will come up along the way to improve his prospects. What follows is a journey to the borders of the Otherworld as well as a detailed primer on just how one ought to act in order to follow the dictates of courtliness. Gawain ends up being the guest of Sir Bertilak, a generous knight who says that the Green Chapel, the destination of Gawain's quest, is close by and Gawain should stay with them for the duration of the holidays. We are treated to some coy (and mostly chaste) loveplay on the part of Bertilak's wife from which Gawain mostly manages to extricate himself without contravening the dictates of politeness, as well as the details of a medieval deer, boar and fox hunt with nary a point missing.

In the end Gawain goes to the chapel and finds that his erstwhile host Bertilak was in fact the Green Knight. Gawain submits himself and is left, after three swings, with only a scratch as a reward for his courteous behaviour in Bertilak's castle. Despite the apparent success of Gawain, he views the adventure as a failure since he did not come off completely unscathed and he wears a girdle he was gifted by Bertilak's wife as a mark of shame to remind himself of this. Harsh much?

The language of the Gawain poet's middle english is beautiful and I highly recommend reading it in the original with a good translation at hand to catch the nuances of meaning. The poem is replete with an almost dreamlike quality that is made real by all of the exquisite details of medieval life that are interspersed throughout the text. This is a great book to read at Christmas time.

Simon Armitage's translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is certainly a very modern one. I think it's important to remember, when reading anything in translation, that nothing is immune to the translator's own views and intentions. This is especially apparent in translations like Seamus Heaney's translation of Beowulf, and this translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, but it's always the case. Even when it's a group of undergrads doing awkward prose translations -- I always use the example of Wulf and Eadwacer. There is no way you can translate that poem without personal interpretation. Even if you consciously translate the poem in order to keep all the ambiguities in place, that's an interpretation. Knowing this, and having read the introduction to this translation, it was easy for me to settle down and just enjoy Simon Armitage's translation. It's not literal, and it's colloquial, and it's contemporary, and it will probably quickly become dated. I don't think it's suitable for commenting on the poem in an academic context, unless you're actually commenting on the different translations, because it's very much an interpretation and in "plain English" and doesn't hold all the richness of the original.

It's also very readable, and rich in its own way. If you want to read Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and you're daunted by the idea of the "Old English"*, this translation is great -- lively and, I think, playful. I enjoyed the language a lot, not least because of how very Yorkshire it is (I grew up in Yorkshire). Armitage makes a good attempt at using the alliterative metre, and the poem practically begs to be read aloud and savoured.

The story itself has become less and less important to me as I've read the poem in various different translations (Armitage's, Brian Stone's, a prose translation, the original...) and instead I've found myself focusing on the tone of the poem (is the narrator being ironic?) and details like the missing day (count 'em up carefully), and the use of adjectives ("good Gawain", etc). Still, there's an interesting story there, too -- the testing of Sir Gawain, a tension between courtly manners and Christianity, etc, etc.

*It's actually in Middle English, and all of the translations will be Modern English.

145th book of 2023.

Goodreads didn't like me trying to distinguish the translations of this. Firstly, I read Armitage's translation. A few days ago I finished the Burrow edited, but not translated, version of the poem. I found it difficult to get a hold of a copy of the poem that isn't translated into modern English, so the copy I did eventually find in the basement of a library was ugly-covered, but just what I wanted. The edits to the text are merely standardisations of letters. Otherwise, it's original. As a comparison to the original text and Armitage's translation I have chosen one of the passages in which the Green Knight and his steed are described.

n  

And all graythed in grene this gome and his wedes:
A strayt cote ful streght that stek on his sides,
A mery mantyle above, mensked withinne
With pelure pured apert, the pane ful clene
With blithe blaunner ful bryght, and his hode both,
That was laght fro his lokkes and layd on his schulderes,
Heme wel-haled hose of that same grene
That spend on his sparlyr, and clene spures under
Of bryght gold upon silk bordes barred ful rich,
And scholes under schankes there the schalk rides;
And all his vesture verayly was clene verdure,
Both the barres of his belt and the blithe stones
That were richly rayled in his aray clene,
Aboute himself and his sadel upon silk werkes.
That were to tor for to telle of trifles the halve
That were enbrawded above with bryddes and flyes,
With gay gaudi of grene, the gold ay inmyddes.
The pendauntes of his payttrure, the proud cropure,
His molaynes and all the metail anamayld was then,
The stiropes that he stode on stayned of the same,
And his arsouns all after and his athel skyrtes,
That ever glemered and glent all of the grene stones.
The fole that he ferkes on fyne of that ilk,
Sertayn,
A grene horse grete and thik,
A stede ful stuf to strayne,
In brayden brydel quik,
To the gome he was ful gayn.

-

And his gear and garments were green as well:
a tight-fitting tunic, tailored to his torso,
and a cloak to cover him, the cloth fully lined
with smoothly shorn fur clearly showing, and faced
with all-white ermine, as was the hood,
worn shawled on his shoulders, shucked from his head.
On his lower limbs his leggings were also green,
wrapped closely round his calves, and his sparkling spurs
were green-gold, strapped with stripy silk,
and were set on his stockings, for this stranger was shoeless.
In all vestments he revealed himself veritably verdant!
From his belt-hooks and buckle to the baubles and gems
arrayed so richly around his costume
and adorning the saddle, stitched onto silk.
All the details of his dress are difficult to describe,
embroidered as it was with butterflies and birds,
green beads emblazoned on a background of gold.
All the horses's tack - harness-strap, hind-strap,
the eye of the bit, each alloy and enamel
and the stirrups he stood in - were similarly tinted,
and the same with the cantle and skirts of the saddle,
all glimmering and glinting with the greenest jewels.
And the horse: every hair was green, from hoof
to mane.
A steed of pure green stock.
Each snort and shudder strained
the hand-stitched bridle, but
his rider had him reined.

n

126th book of 2023.

This is a wonderful, poetic and lively translation by Armitage. I know the story well enough, so I was really reading for the translation and the poetic licenses. Well worth it. Even just the journeying parts of the poem are written beautifully. I've got a few other translations kicking about that I'll read soon and then return here to compare them. This is an excellent place to start.