Heroines of the French Epic

by Newth, Michael A. H. ;

  Though none of us can stop our end from coming,

  While we’re alive we all should strive and struggle

  To do our best, both for ourselves and others.

  Serve God today, and shun tomorrow’s worries!

  A worthy wife makes any husband lucky,

  And he, if worthy too, will always love her,

  And heed the words of her advice and trust her.

  I’m such a wife, and this is my good judgement:

  Rebuild Orange with all the wealth and plunder

  From Aliscans, and let it be a wonder!

  Call men to work, and such will be their numbers

  That you can make Orange a joy to govern.

  With all my heart I’ll help you, my beloved.”

  “Dear God,” he sighed, “how fine you are, my lovely!

  In all of time there won’t be such another!”

  (ll. 8391–8418)

  The moving speeches and strong actions of courageous but compassionate helpmeet-heroines like Guibourc in the Song of William, Aude and Bramimond in the Song of Roland, Aalais and Héloïse, mother and fiancée of the hero in Raoul de Cambrai, and Princess Hermenjart in Aymeri of Narbonne – all of which may be perused by the interested reader through the translations available in Heroes of the French Epic and the others books cited in the Suggestions for Further Reading – represent some of finest moments of chanson de geste composition, and ‘satisfactorily explain the survival of the warrior hero’s popularity and the subordination of woman even in poems composed long after the Breton and Provençal influences were supreme in feudal society’ (Comfort, p. 98).

  PART I

  Saracen Sirens

  “I couldn’t care who knows it now: I’ll tell

  Each man I meet he’s not to call you hence

  The ‘proud of arm’ but ‘prince of charm’ instead!

  You’ve hurried here upon a lover’s quest!”

  On hearing this, our hero bowed his head.

  The Capture of Orange (ll.1561–64)

  In the impassioned character of Bramimond, the wife of the Saracen King Marsile in the Song of Roland, referred to earlier, we can in fact detect, in embryo, the semi-romantic, semi-comic chanson de geste character type of the ‘amorous Saracen princess’, a figure created and much used, if not much developed, by the poets of Northern France in their epic compositions from the middle of the twelfth century onwards.

  Since the middle of the eleventh century in fact, and certainly following the First Crusade of 1096, increasing military and commercial contact with the splendours and sophisticated manners of the Eastern world and its peoples, had unveiled to those Westerners who had witnessed them a new world of magnificence and ‘civilised behaviour’ far exceeding their own. Actual personal contact with the ‘Infidels’ on the Eastern battlefields had not only led the French chevaliers to greatly respect the bravery, dignity and courtesy of their Arab counterparts, whom reality revealed to be so different from the despicable ‘Saracen other’ portrayed back in the West in their crude ‘crusading’ songs, but also to admire the ‘exotic’ beauty of their ‘Pagan’ wives and daughters. Among the returning Crusaders such experiences had awakened in them the desire to acquire not only the luxurious and lovely objects they had discovered on their travels, but also the intention to imitate and enjoy the more refined personal and inter-personal lifestyles that they had witnessed among the Moslem populations. Thus began and developed in the royal courts of France, such as that of Eleanor of Aquitaine (1122–1204), queen-consort of Louis VII, in the south, and that of her elder daughter Marie of Champagne (1145–1198) in the north, the conscious cultivation of a new relationship between the sexes in Western society, one which emphasised not only savoir faire but savoir aimer, and one, consequently, in which the status of women was considerably enhanced.

  Through aristocratic patronisation a new ‘courtly’ literature was soon developed that purposely advocated and reflected this more genteel lifestyle and this more refined rapport between the knight and his lady. In southern France the lyric poetry of the troubadours celebrated a doctrine of refined love, (‘fin’amor’), which championed love as the ennobling feudal service of a knight to his lady that was as pure and faithful as the one that he paid to his liege lord. In northern France the cult of chivalry’s increased emphasis on love and adventure found artistic inspiration in the tales of Celtic legend and subsequent literary expression in the ‘lays of Brittany’, most notably those of Marie de France, and in ‘Arthurian romances’, most notably those of Chrétien de Troyes. It is thus no real surprise that, in order to compete with these burgeoning literary genres, the content and tone of the chansons de geste of this era show evidence of a considerable ideological shift. The central theme of conflict with a Pagan enemy starts to share its importance with that of the pursuit of a romantic goal, and with subsidiary scenes of adventure, fantasy and magic. The early sombre unity of tone and action, consummated in the Song of Roland, yields to a proliferation of secondary episodes and verbal playfulness. The old Christian theme remains, the old theme of territorial conquest remains, but the need for a new, romantic heroine, becomes paramount. It is under these conditions that we can appreciate the literary appearance of what was to prove the genre’s most popular and enduring character-type – that of the ‘amorous Saracen princess’.

  Smitten with love for a Christian knight and filled with a resolve that stops at nothing to unite with him, the character of this southern siren was created to add new dimensions of sensuality and humour to the old songs of deeds. Sexual titillation was achieved through a frank and meticulous description of her physical appearance, while comedic effect was generated through the bold contrasting of her brazen dialogue and deeds with the traditionally more submissive attitude of the former helpmeet-heroines. The aggressive energy that these Pagan princesses are shown to bring to all tasks, some of them traditionally masculine to the Christian audience, the invective they loose and the plots they hatch against the Saracen enemy, their own kith and kin, in pursuit of their romantic goal, become the hallmarks of this extraordinary character type. From an artistic viewpoint, their portrayal in the chansons de geste from the middle of the twelfth century to the end of the thirteenth demonstrates a distortion, intentional or not, of contemporary reality by the poets who authored the works in which they appear. As Comfort says: “The Saracen maid does not differ essentially from her Christian sister. The trouvères were no more able to imagine a Saracen type of female beauty and charm distinct from that of the Christian than they were able to create a Saracen hero who should not be identical with a Christian chevalier” (p.142). Indeed the epic poets’ portrayal of these Moslem women as openly sensual, ruthlessly defiant, white-skinned rebels, is as plainly erroneous or consciously false as are their grotesque misrepresentations of the Moslem religion in this genre. N. Daniel (p.89) suggests that in the former case we are consciously presented with a Western ‘fantasy of revolt against parental authority, in an age where a father or a guardian determined the children’s marriages, and especially an heiress’s’. B. Smith’s excellent synopsis of the medieval Western poets’ portrayal of women in the chansons de geste develops this point: ‘They created Saracen heroines who threatened established norms of female behaviour by rejecting their families, mocking men, and committing adultery; and although they speak to male fantasies, they also reflect male anxieties. Most importantly, the stories work to legitimate the profits of military victory’(p.139).

  The romantic and comedic impact upon the tone and contents of the original ‘song of deeds’ narrative that was effected by the enticing appearance and outrageous antics of these southern sirens is the dominating narrative feature of almost two dozen surviving Old French epic poems, and is well illustrated in the following two chansons de geste. The Capture of Orange (pronounce as in French!), relates one of the most celebrated incidents in the poetic biography of William ‘Strong-Arm’, the historic
al Count William of Toulouse (d.812), a nephew of Charlemagne himself, and one of the best-known heroes of the medieval French Epic genre. The poem translated here has survived in nine manuscript copies, the earliest of which dates from the middle of the twelfth century. Details of its plot are alluded to in several other Old French epic tales and its popularity in the Middle Ages cannot be doubted. Indeed, the famous count’s purely fictional wooing and winning of a Pagan queen and his appropriation of her southern city appear as established historical facts in church chronicles surviving from as early as 1130. In its original oral form (to which its male orientation, formulaic composition, repetitive style and emphasis on dialogue clearly bear witness) this chanson de geste may well have inspired the creation not only of the Saracen Princess character type itself but also that of the entire William of Orange cycle of Old French epic poems.

  Baptised in the present poem and christened Guibourc (the actual name of the historical William’s first wife), the Saracen princess Orable of Orange was destined to become the most popular, endearing and enduring female character in the surviving repertoire of the Songs of Deeds. As herself she appears in over a quarter of the surviving Old French epic poems, and then, as a type, in a dozen further narrative reincarnations, most successfully perhaps as Princess Floripas in the chanson de geste called Fierabras (see Suggestions for Further Reading). The Capture of Orange is imbued with a ‘joie de vivre’ that characterises the entire William of Orange cycle of Old French epic poems. Its particular combination of verbal wit, situational comedy and almost parodic tone certainly justify its French editor’s description of it as ‘un chef d’oeuvre d’humour’ (Régnier, p.31.)

  The song of Floovant embroiders its legendary tale around the two oldest historical French characters mentioned in the surviving corpus of chansons de geste, namely the Merovingian monarch Clovis (c.465–511), the first Christian king of the Franks, and his eldest son, the titular hero. The poem has a Bildungsroman framework. From the naïve commission of a horrendous insult (the prankster prince cuts off his tutor’s beard!), the banished boy must endure and overcome seven years of physical and emotional challenges in order to achieve the redemption and enlightenment that his noble character deserves and that his royal position demands.

  Historically the poem is probably based on the record of an identical prank and punishment attached to the youth of King Dagobert I, who ruled the Franks from 629–639, and who in that decade founded at Paris the great abbey of Saint-Denis – acknowledged today as the breeding ground of so much chanson de geste production. Artistically, in addition to the standard but still humorous figure of a Saracen princess, the song of Floovant offers its deft portrayal of a rival Christian lover, a strong and stirring example of a ‘hero’s friend’ in the time-honoured epic tradition, and a tender cameo of a loving and grieving mother. Although virtually unknown today, the story of Floovant not only enjoyed considerable popularity in medieval times, to judge by the many allusions made to it in various contemporary compilations, but was subsequently taken up by Italian, Dutch and English translators and imitators. In Iceland, as Flovents Saga, it is mentioned in a late nineteenth century research report as ‘still being read out to appreciative audiences’.

  Note to the Translation of The Song of Floovant

  The italicised section of this translation (lines 432–449) represents my attempt to reconstruct the tone and content of a narrative episode known to be missing from the only edited manuscript of the poem. This reconstruction is based upon the evidence available from a surviving fragment of a second Floovant manuscript and the modern editor’s own suggestions.

  THE CAPTURE OF ORANGE

  How Sir William was stirred by the Spring

  ATTEND, MY LORDS! God bless you all and each,

  St Mary’s Son, Whose glory is supreme!

  I’d like to sing a song of gallant deeds –

  Not high of hand or mad, outlandish feats,

  The fruit of lies or otherwise unreal,

  But those of men who conquered southern fiefs.

  You know the men, if you have ever been

  To Brioude, as you travel to Saint-Gilles,

  Where you can see Sir William’s old shield,

  10 With young Bertrand’s, his nephew fine and fierce .

  No learned man, I think, will disagree,

  Nor any text you’ll ever hear or see.

  They all recall the famous fall of Nîmes,

  How William subdued, without a siege,

  Its lofty walls and marble halls a-gleam,

  And how he won its palace and its keep.

  But what about ORANGE, his greatest feat?

  Not many men can tell you truthfully

  How that was done and won – except for me,

  20 Who learned the facts when I was young indeed:

  How William, his face aglow with zeal,

  Expelled the Moors who lived in Aumarie,

  And those of Susce and those of Pincerny,

  The Baudas Moors and those of Tabary.

  And how he won and wed the city’s Queen

  Orable, who was born of Pagan breed

  And forced to wed King Teebo an emir,

  But turned to God, and in her Christian years

  Built abbey-halls and churches for the Creed.

  30 Not many know this gem of history!

  ATTEND, MY LORDS, you good and gallant knights,

  And hear a song that’s from the life and times

  Of William, who took Orange for Christ,

  And for himself a clever southern bride

  Whom King Teebo the Moor had made his wife.

  What hungry days and heavy, sleepless nights,

  And painful blows our hero would abide

  Before he won Orable’s heart and mind!

  THE MONTH WAS MAY, when summer’s tender gaze

  40 Turns meadows green and spurs the woodland-spray.

  When birds a-wing sing out with sweeter lays

  And rivers run with gentle streams again.

  Count William woke up, on such a day,

  And went to Mass, to listen and to pray.

  When this was done, he left and made his way

  To Otran’s hall, that southern Pagan knave

  Whose city-walls the Count’s prowess had claimed.

  There, as he leaned against a window-frame,

  He looked around and down on his domain:

  50 He saw the fields, the roses flushed with May,

  And heard the thrush and blackbird’s lusty lays.

  At once his mind recalled the happy days

  He used to spend in France before he came.

  He called Bertrand: “Come here, good nephew, pray!

  On leaving France, our plans were poorly laid!

  We brought along no bard to sing or play,

  Nor any girls to keep us entertained!

  We’ve steeds galore and speedy destriers,

  And golden helms and sturdy coats of mail;

  60 We’ve cutting swords and shields of every shape,

  We’ve racks of spears, their iron strong and straight,

  And stacks of wine and bread and meat and grain –

  But, curse the Moors, our stores are all a waste

  If all we do is sleep and rest and wait

  For them to come in arms across the waves

  So each of us can prove his valour’s rate!

  This waiting here is driving me insane!

  We’re stuck inside this city and its gates

  Like prisoners inside a giant jail!”

  70 He grumbled – but he shouldn’t have complained:

  Before the sun had set that very day

  He’d hear some news and such a sorry tale

  That all the blood would simmer
in his veins!

  COUNT WILLIAM was at his open window.

  Some sixty men from lovely France were with him,

  Dressed, every one, in spotless ermine trimming,

  Cordovan leather shoes and silken breeches.

  Young falcons sat upon the wrists of fifty.

  Count William was light of heart and spirit

  80 As, looking down the sloping ground, he witnessed

  The luscious grass and roses flushed with springtime,

  The oriole and blackbird’s lusty singing.

  He called Bertrand and Guielin, his kinsmen,

  His nephews dear, to see and hear it with him:

  “My noble knights and true, just look and listen!

  Not long ago we left our northern kingdom:

  If we had brought a thousand maidens with us,

  From France’s wealth of beautiful young women,

  What pleasure in our leisure they’d have given

  90 The nobles here, and me as well! God willing,

  I’m not averse to flirting or to kissing!

  We’ve all we need in horses and equipment –

  Our helmets glow, our sturdy hauberks shimmer.

  Our shield s are stout, our lances sharp and limber.

  We’ve cutting swords with hilts of shining silver,

  And bread and wine, and salted meat and millet –

  But, damn you, Moors, what use are our provisions

  If you refuse to sail your forces hither?

  My will to wait has over-spilled its limit,

  100 And I am bored when honour’s not for winning!”

  He grumbled on, but showed a lack of wisdom:

  Before the sun had glowed its final glimmer

  He’d hear some news of tyranny so wicked

  It set the blood inside his veins a-simmer!

  AGAINST THE WALL and windowsill he leaned.

  One hundred men were with him there, at least,

  Dressed, every one, in spotless ermine-fleece.