Paper Proposal

For this final paper, I plan on writing about the hybrid nature of the werewolf in Marie de France’s Bisclavret. I’ll be using some the critical resources from my annotated bibliography (all of which deal with ‘animal studies’ in some way) to explore my subject in detail. I am interested in the question: who (what?) is the real monster in this story? If it is an important distinction to make, then how does that affect our interpretation of the werewolf’s actions?

Furthermore, it seems that he is happier in his “werewolf” form than in his human form; what does this suggest about our tendency to value humans over animals/beasts/monsters regardless of the individual worth of the animal or human in question? Animals that retain some semblance of humanity are looked upon with less derision precisely because they are more human and less “beastly.” The hybrid nature of the werewolf is such that it is considered an abomination to nature—it is neither a human nor a monster (occupying some “freakish” in-between state) and anything less than fully human is inevitably, even willfully, misunderstood by humans.

I particularly like the ideas surrounding Jeffrey Cohen’s “monster theory.” He talks about the simultaneous materiality/immateriality of monsters (in this case, werewolves) and, how, as humans, that is a frightening prospect because they defy categorization, in a very physical sense of the word. I will probably also utilize Charlotte Otten’s article in which she discusses the physical state versus mental state of being a werewolf, i.e. there are degrees of “beastliness.” Should one who transforms into the state of a beast (although maintaining human thoughts and judgments) still be considered a beast?

These are just some of the ideas I am considering, but I haven’t nailed down an exact argument yet. As far as a title, I have no idea, but I was thinking that “The Hybrid Nature of Werewolves” will work for now.

Body and Soul

Typically, objectification is a demeaning and disempowering practice. Object-oriented ontology, though, elevates and empowers objects, inverting the typical implications of objectification (perhaps even encouraging it). An object-oriented reading of Marie de France’s Yonec objectifies bodies in a peculiar way. It distinguishes them from the minds or souls that reside within them, while insisting that there should still be parallels (if not union) between the two.

The young lady uses this technique herself to deny her old husband a soul, referring to him as “this jealous man, / who married me to his body” (83-4). Demonizing and objectifying him, the lady rejects any spiritual tie to her husband, making their marriage a mere marriage of bodies. Her own body tainted by his, she lets its beauty go “as one does who cares nothing for it” (48). Divorcing herself from her body takes quite a toll on it, but hopefully preserves her soul.

She later learns, though, the value of the body (and beauty, for only beautiful bodies have value, it seems). Her newfound lover reminds her that the soul and body are ideally one, using his body (though her appearance) “to receive the body of our lord God” (162). The lord’s very body is sacred, and can be accessed through the body. Given this reminder that the body is meant to house the soul, “[h]er body had now become precious to her” (215). Re-embracing her body as her own, her home for Christ and romantic love, “she completely recovered her beauty” (216). The body cannot house the soul if they do not reflect each other. By this mutual dependency, the soul cannot be preserved by abandoning the body (as she tried with her marriage of bodies), any more than the body bloom without a soul.

A Negative Assemblage

Is there such a thing as a negative assemblage? In Marie de France’s Equitan, we see how the love affair between the king and his seneschal’s wife is wrong and will have terrible consequences for them in the end. Marie is clearly subverting the courtly love virtues of the time (like ones espoused in Guigemar for instance) in her cynical (rather than sincere or straightforward) presentation of the love affair.

In the courtly love tradition, love was not really love without pain and suffering. Truly loving someone could be described as fundamentally irrational, but necessary for the love to say alive. However, it is obvious that, in this story, their love is characterized by destructive tendencies. The affair literally destroys them—it is a lack of loyalty, honor, or discretion leads them toward a painful demise.

Ultimately, the message is one of reciprocity: your evil deeds will not go unpunished. At the end, she admonishes: “whoever wants to hear some sound advice/can profit from this example:/he who plans evil for another/may have that evil rebound back on him” (lines 307-310).  The “love” assemblage in this story, not only does not work, but proves to be fatal for both lovers. They committed the sin of loving too strongly, the irony being than in any other story “loving too strongly” is often viewed as a virtue.

We think of assemblages as working toward the common good, but are they all necessarily performing this function?  The affair (demonstrating the “power” of love) in Equitan does not end well for the ones involved. The resolution of the love affair suggests that something was out of balance in the first place. The king values his love over his loyalty, and in doing so, allows his passion to overwhelm his reason. Considering the primary imbalance of the assemblage, it is clear that the fate of the unfaithful couple will not end well.

If these things could talk…

This week while reading “Yonec” I was reminded a lot of “Guigemar” because of the same wife locked away in a room scenario.  However, I liked that in “Yonec” the wife has more of a voice.  In “Guigemar” we are given a description of the king that is very much like the description of the king in “Yonec.”  he is “a very aged man who ha[s] a wife” (Guigemar 210).  In “Yonec”, the king is “rich, old and ancient” (Yonec 12).  So in “Guigemar” the king is characterized in terms of having a wife, and in “Yonec” the king is identified by his money.  I don’t really see anything out of the ordinary here, but in “Yonec” we are provided with the wife’s perspective of her husband which I thought was just great.  She calls him a “jealous old man” (71), and says that “when he should have been baptized / he was plunged instead in the river of hell; / his senews are hard, his veins are hard, / filled with living blood” (87-90).  Whoa!  I didn’t realize how much of a woman’s voice was lacking in the lais until this one finally spoke.  I know women do speak occasionally in the lais, but this is the first time I really felt like I heard one with a voice.

Another exclamation of the wife’s that made me think is when she cries that she should have never been born, her fate is terrible, and that she is imprisoned until death (67-70).  Most intriguingly she thinks, “What is this jealous old man afraid of / that he keeps me so imprisoned?” (71-2).  If we place everything on a horizontal plane like Bennett suggests, I wonder how many other “things” like the wife are screaming inside to be allowed to be the director of their own agency instead of being forced to serve the agendas of others (humans).  Going back to the wife’s earlier opinion of her husband:  what if things could talk?  What would they say about their “owners”?

Reputation

Reputation, Reputation, Reputation. Reputation is a huge theme in all the medieval Breton Lais it seems. Lanval’s reputation is slighted when he doesn’t receive a gift from his lord King Arthur. Again his reputation is sullied when Guinevere lies and says he tried to sleep with her. We see the importance of reputation in Eliduc, when he has given his word to his wife that he will be faithful. Reputation is huge in Milun because the girl has gotten pregnant without being married. Almost the entire first part of Milun, a love story, focuses on her reputation and the worry she has if anyone finds out about the baby. The love part of the story takes a backseat. In fact love takes a backseat to reputation more often then I would have guessed. Milun and Eliduc are two lais in which this happens so I wanted to explore the agency of reputation in some of the lais we’ve read.

First off reputation in the romantic court is quite possibly the most important aspect of a knight. Every deed, action, adventure a knight does is done for his reputation. The same can be said of the woman in the court; they can’t have their reputations sullied. The society of the time of these lais stress reputation beyond anything. Reputation travels throughout the land. In Eliduc and Milun the love interests hear of Eliduc and Milun before they have ever laid eyes on them. The reputation of the two knights is what draws the knights and woman to each other. I think I can say that the woman fall in love with the knights’ reputation.

Reputation drives the society. The livelihood of the knights is dependent on reputation. When Eliduc’s reputation is slighted by the lies told to the King, he is kicked out of the King’s service and goes over seas to find a lord. The power of reputation to me is above even the power of love. Reputation has a higher relevance than religion or God in these lais. Reputation, Reputation, Reputation.

The Transcendent Power of Love in “Eliduc”

What is the significance of the weasel scene in Marie de France’s Eliduc? Eliduc’s complicated love life comes to a head when his wife finds out about his affair with another woman. Surprisingly, her reaction is one of acceptance rather than anger. In fact, she goes so far as to bring his love back to life in an imitation of how the weasel brought his companion to life with the red flower.

It is significant that the weasels exemplify love’s power in this scene—its power to heal or destroy. In resituating its mate, the weasel also embodies the importance of loyalty or fidelity in the relationships between Eliduc and the two women. It is interesting that weasels would be used as the medium to express the ways in which love can overcome potential pettiness or jealousy and even death itself. The weasels’ love is not inferior; the love between the two weasels is analogous to the love between the two humans.

The wife’s reaction (i.e. to imitate their actions rather than dismiss them) shows how love transcends the divide between human and nonhuman. The exhibition of loving traits, even in the bodies of animals, does not alter the meaning of love itself but reaffirms the power of love to transcend body, space, and time. There are certainly different forms of love (and a ‘divine’ love may indeed be more important than an earthly one), but the fact remains: the weasels show how, in at least one respect, animal behavior mirrors its human counterparts.

The weasels may be important in and of themselves but, in renewing life through an act of love, they almost rise above the animal body itself—that kind of power is no respecter of artificial bodily boundaries. In portraying the scene as charming rather than ridiculous, the story illustrates the agency of love and the implied agency of the nonhuman actants as well.

Love’s Agency in Marie de France’s “Eliduc”

For this week’s blog I would like to focus on the agency of love in Eliduc.  The characters of Eliduc and Guilliadun seem kind of helpless to its powers don’t they?  At one point, “love [even] sen[ds] [Guilliadun] a message, / commanding her to love [Eliduc] / that ma[kes] her go pale and sigh” (304-6).  Love has a lot of agency in these lines.  It commands Guilliadun to love Eliduc.  Instead of recognizing herself that she has feelings for Eliduc that respond to his character, she instead attributes it all to love as if she has no part in it whatsoever.  At first, the effects of this love sound pretty terrible:  Guilliadun can’t sleep at night (331-2), her heart is “assaulted” (387), and she is “in grief” (391).  The reader really gets the idea that if love does not get its way here Guilliadun is pretty much doomed and “never in [her] life shall [she] have any joy” (400).

The agency of love is pretty far-reaching because Eliduc feels it too.  He begins to feel distress from the time he sees her (459), and has “no joy or pleasure / except when he th[inks] of her” (460-1).  Though he wants to stay faithful to his wife he literally cannot “keep himself / from loving [Guilliadun]” (467-8).  I would like to take the opportunity here to point out the vibrant materiality of love in this lai.  Not all love is the same here.  The love Eliduc feels for his wife is not the same love that he feels for Guilliadun.  It is almost like it is two different forces just like no two hammers are exactly the same nor do they possess the same agency.

The chapel scene

Then, there is the scene in the chapel with the weasels when an act of love brings the female weasel back to life (1038-53).  Not only is love capable of destruction when it doesn’t get its way, it is also a lifesaver.  It takes many different forms in this lai, but I don’t think that it is one love “thing” that is morphing to suit every character’s needs.  I really imagine a few different “loves” each with their own agency and agenda just like there are different characters in the lai.

Escaping a Symbolic Reading of Chevrefoil

In Chevrefoil, the love of Tristan and his queen is encompassed in the metaphor of the hazel tree and the honeysuckle. The two are inseparable, like the “honeysuckle that attaches itself to the hazel tree/…the two can survive together/but if someone tries to separate them/the hazel dies quickly/and the honeysuckle with it” (69-76).Their love is of such vital importance that they would never voluntarily leave each other. Consequently, an external force, or agent, is requited to turn their love into a destructive thing. In light of these parallels, the hazel tree-honeysuckle scenario is nearly impossible (for me, at least) not to read symbolically.

However, the “piece of wood” the queen sees on the hillside is a sign that only she can interpret. It derives meaning through their exchange, but it also has meaning in and of itself. Why choose a piece of wood, for instance? There were other “things” in the woods that he could have chosen which would have been just as appropriate for his purpose, but perhaps the wood chose itself as a messenger, rather than the other way around. In that case, not just any other thing would have worked to transmit the secret signal.

Their joy comes about “by means of the stick he inscribed” (109). They could not have experienced those moments of happiness together without the wood’s effort in communicating a message. One could say that the wood was merely acting on their behalf, which brings us back to considering it as an object of human agency (a conduit of human desire) rather than an agent that works within a larger network of assemblages. Who’s to say that this second possibility isn’t true though? Sure, its immediate purpose is to communicate a message from one lover to another, but it still acts within a network of other actants and events—its sole existence doesn’t rely on the human narrative that is imprinted upon it.

Deliberate and Unacknowledged Assemblages in “Les Deus Amanz”

Neustria

As I was reading Les Deus Amanz I noticed two assemblages in particular.  The first one I took notice of because of Jeffrey Cohen’s visit when he pointed out all the assemblages we had all put together on our desks.  So when I got to the part that describes all that the young man puts together to journey to see his mistress’s aunt the assemblage was pretty obvious.  I’d like to discuss this assemblage in two parts:  the deliberate assemblage and the unacknowledged assemblage.  By deliberate I mean the items that the young man deliberate gathers to take with him on his journey:  “rich clothes, money, / palfreys and pack mules; / only the most trustworthy of his men” (122-5), and the letter from his mistress (129).  This young man thought that these were the items that would aid him most on his journey and deemed them necessary.  However, the lai does not go into detail about how these things effect his journey so it is hard to say how agency is spread out among this assemblage.  However, we do know that the letter has great agency in aiding him in acquiring the potion (130-4).

However, the young man does not realize there would be a number of other things accompanying him on his journey—this is the unacknowledged or unanticipated assemblage.  This assemblage consists of all of the things that I have previously mentioned along with the advice of his mistress (118), the idea of retrieving the medicine (117), the king’s sadness (28) that makes a journey up a mountain requiring a strength potion necessary, and the years of his life in term of age that have not yet provided him with the title of adult leading the king to scoff at him (109-2).  All of these things (and more, I am sure) are all acting upon the young man and his situation.  Yet unlike the items that the young man deliberately collects to bring with him not all of these agents will aid him.

The same kinds of assemblages are present when the young man prepares himself to journey up the mountain—the second assemblage that stood out to me in the lai.  The deliberate: the mistress (174), the chemise the mistress wears (173), the small phial (175), and the potion (175).  The unacknowledged:  the mistress’s desire (166), the crowd who would distract the young man (193), and the young man’s lack of control (179) that results in the couple’s demise (203-27).  I would say that the young man’s lack of control is the agent with the most power here because it ends both of their lives.  If the lack of control had not been present perhaps the young man would have taken the potion and that would have had the most agency.

“Two Lovers Illustration” by Yoon.Ji Kim.  This is an interesting comic interpretation that I found online (clicking the picture should lead you to a larger version).  It didn’t occur to me that the mistress may have been overweight and needed to fast because of it.  I just thought the journey was tumultuous and long so she wanted to be as light as possible.  

Bisclavret’s Humanity?

Bisclavret changes the way we perceive human versus non-human. The monster (werewolf) in the story is not actually a “monster” at all—he is noble and loyal to the king. Even the king recognizes this, marveling at how a “beast” bows before him in respect. Interestingly, the king says that the beast’s “sense is human.” Even though a beast, he never loses his sense of dignity. He, instead, retains his humanity. The story says he acts like “a noble man,” which implies that perhaps he has not undergone a complete transformation of body and mind.

Projecting human qualities, even onto a werewolf, makes him more acceptable (and less savage), but what does that say about how we value non-humans? Non-humans are automatically imbued with a savage quality, while humans (no matter how uncivilized) are assumed to be above certain kinds of behavior. However, we then have to ask ourselves, who is portrayed as the real monster in this story? His wife, who acts selfishly throughout, is the monster, while he is the noble hero.

Although it could be argued that the beast retains his humanity, it does not explain why he seems content to leave his wife and his human existence. In fact, he is noticeably at his happiest when he is being kept like a pet by the king at the end. The king’s approval pleases him more than his wife ever did. So, does this mean that he has forsaken his humanity in favor of living as a werewolf? Like Jeffrey Cohen mentioned in class, what is so wrong with preferring the non-human over the human? It seems preposterous that he might actually want to be a werewolf for whatever reason.

How does his wife react toward him? His wife, once she finds out about his plight, demands that he return to his humanity. She pays the price for her betrayal in the violence done to her in the end, but it is questionable whether she deserves quite such a harsh fate as that. For all that the beast displays good qualities he is still a beast and understandably reacted to as something to be feared.

All in all, does he (or should he?) reconcile his animalistic impulses with the fact that he seems to retain some “human” qualities as well.