Knight in Tarnished Armour

12 Pages·2008·0.44 MB·English

Knight in Tarnished Armour: The Meaning of "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight"
Author(s): Gordon M. Shedd
Source: The Modern Language Review, Vol. 62, No. 1 (Jan., 1967), pp. 3-13
Published by: Modern Humanities Research Association
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/3724104 .
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JANUARY 1967 VOL. 62 NUMBER I
KNIGHT IN TARNISHED ARMOUR: THE MEANING OF
'SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT'
Now holde youre mouth, par charitee,
Bothek nyghta nd lady free,
And herknetht o my spelle;
Of bataillea nd of chivalry,
And of ladyesl ove-drury
Anon I wol yow telle.
(Sir Thopas)
Few students of medieval letters would have the temerity to suggest that the
'drasty speche' of Geoffrey constitutes memorable romance; after all, even Harry
Bailly loses his customary sang-froid and blurts out 'Namoore'. We accept without
question the view that in Sir ThopasC haucer is parodying a literary form, and while
we may think the Host something less than tactful, subscribe wholeheartedly to his
verdict that this kind of stuff is 'nat worth a toord'. Of course, parody implies
excess or deficiency of some type in its target, and it is true that by the time of the
mythical pilgrimage to Canterbury we find abundant signs in romance, stylistically
and thematically, of both extremes of mediocrity. Yet it is also in this latter half
of the fourteenth century that there appears 'le joyau du moyen age',1 the unani-
mously praised alliterative romance Sir Gawaina nd the GreenK night, and we are
faced with the apparent non-sequitur of a withering parody and a superb flower
of the romance genre being born simultaneously.
To explain away this seeming contradiction simply by relegating Sir Gawaint o
the limbo of a literary tradition lying outside the mainstream of romance is too easy.
The poem's author, whatever else he may have been, was no northern provincial
out of contact with the current scene; nor is Sir Gawain merely a deliberately
archaic recreation of an earlier, golden age of chivalric story. In his own way the
alliterative poet is as sophisticated as the cosmopolite Chaucer, and his poem is as
'modern' as Troilusa nd Criseyde.T his twin birth of parody and perfection must be
accounted for in some other way, and the explanation lies in recognition of the fact
that Sir Gawaina nd Sir Thopasa re not mutually contradictory: ultimately they are
both criticisms of romance.
Aside from this fundamental similarity the two works do not admit of fruitful
comparison, and there is nothing to be gained by attempting to force them into
the same mould. The tail-rhyme stanzas of Sir Thopasc onstitute an amusing but
essentially negative reaction to the repetitious plots and pedestrian verse so often
found in medieval narrative, whereas the highly-wrought northern poem moves
beyond simple concern with triteness of form and content, to grapple with the
limitations of ideal inherent in chivalric literature. Chaucer uses a mirror of
comic distortion to produce caricature, and annihilates with laughter a seemingly
shopworn genre. The Gawain-poet( who in effect answers Chaucer's criticism by
creating a work of great formal beauty) utilizes a magnifying lens to throw into
sharp focus the assumptions of romance, revealing through his portrayal of Gawain
and Arthur's court the weaknesses as well as the strengths of the knightly code.
1 Gaston Paris, Histoire litteraired e la France,x xx (I888), p. 71.
4 The Meaningo f 'Sir Gawaina nd the GreenK night'
In so doing, he reaffirms certain vital truths about the nature of man, and the
poem thus embodies a positive rather than negative criticism of the code he finds
lacking.
This is not to suggest that Sir Gawaini s a tract for the times: it is first and always
a work of art. But in common with all art that endures, the poem is essentially
serious, for it tells us something about the human condition. Within the frame of
romance, but at the expense of the traditional portrait of knightly excellence, the
alliterative poet invokes the classic metaphor of human existence - that man
stands midway between the angels and the animals, partaking of both natures, and
capable of moving in either direction. The portrait of Gawain suggests that
progresst oward perfection demands awareness of this dual nature, and that without
self-knowledge all striving is in vain. It is on this point that the northern poem
differs so fundamentally from the typical romance, for although all chivalric quests
are really quests for human perfection, they largely ignore the possibilities for
failure that are man's by definition. Sir Gawaina nd the GreenK nights ucceeds as a
work of art where many medieval narratives do not, because despite its traditional
invocation of the marvellous it does not falsify the truth about man. The salvation
of this fourteenth-century poem resides in the meaning implicit in the failure of its
hero.
Remarkable as it is, the failure of Gawain - 'pe fautlest freke pat euer on fote
3ede'l - has never received the weight of critical attention it deserves. The poem
constitutes a glaring violation of the traditional success-storyp attern, and the hero's
lapses of courage and honour, those twin corner-stones of the chivalric edifice, are
highly untypical of the knightly conduct we find illustrated with such stultifying
sameness in medieval story. To say (as does one recent critic of the work) that
'no sophisticated reader will be deeply disturbed to realize that ... Gawain is not
perfection'2 is to equate the modern and medieval reactions, and to ignore the
dramatic impact which the knight's flawed behaviour must have had on a
fourteenth-century audience.
The flaws do not appear in the first testing situation of the poem, of course. The
Beheading Game is a straightforward and uncomplicated affair, deliberately
orthodox in conception and presentation. Given the fact of the Green Knight's
blunt challenge in the presence of the assembled court, the trial is by definition an
overt one, designed to put to the proof the courage, honour, loyalty, and courtesy
of whoever accepts. That it is clearly a test, and that Gawain is fully aware of what
it means to accept, does not detract from his achievement: the Gawain-poetm akes it
equally clear, through his description of the awed and fearful silence that
descends upon the holiday court, that this outlandish intrusion is not to be dismissed
lightly. Furthermore, when the time comes for the hero to depart in search of the
Green Chapel and the return blow, we cannot help but be strongly affected by the
spectacle of his unflinching honesty and bravery. He has had a year to reflect on
the approaching journey, which seems destined to lead nowhere but to an early
grave in an alien land; yet despite the despairing looks of his friends and the
seeming hopelessness of the situation, the knight never falters in his decision to keep
1 Sir Gawaina nd the GreenK night, edited by I. Gollancz, E.E. T.S., Original Series No. 210 (I940),
vs. 2363. All quotations of the poem are from this edition.
2 Albert B. Friedman, 'Morgan le Fay in Sir Gawaina nd the GreenK night', Speculum2, 5 (I960), 274.
GORDON M. SHEDD 5
the compact made with the Man in Green. Thus, though the Beheading Game
as here utilized is thoroughly traditional in execution, we react favourably, and in
fact are cheered by the sight of the legendary Gawain comporting himself with his
customary grace and virtue.
The comfortable and familiar - not to say predictable- romance pattern
invoked up to this point in the story is not so guileless as it may appear, however.
Having aroused in us the expectation that Sir Gawaini s to be another document in
support of the chivalric code of conduct, the poet proceeds to thrust his hero into
another - and infinitely more difficult - testing situation, in the course of which
our sanguine expectations of a successful outcome are rudely upset by the failure of
Gawain. The shock is rendered greater and the irony more striking by our
realization that the Temptation is no less than a repetition of the Beheading Game,
in terms of the chivalric qualities tested. The poet employs a new set of traditional
story elements, but he is probing for the same virtues: courage, honour, loyalty,
and courtesy. What constitutes the essential difference of this trial from the first,
a difference which makes it so difficult of successful execution, is the simple fact that
Gawain does not know he is being tested.
Unfortunately, critical interpretations of the poem have largely ignored this
crucial truth about the Temptation, and in concentrating on the superficial aspects
of difference between the two trials, have often read the second part of the poem
as a chastity test. Such a misreading not only obscures the carefully wrought
parallel structure of the work, but raises the question why the poet, seemingly so
much in control of his traditional material, has committed the major gaffe of
selecting as exemplar of clannest he Arthurian figure least likely to qualify. The
most damaging effect of such an interpretation, however, is the muddiness of
meaning which it foists on the poem as a whole. Read as a chastity test, the
Temptation makes Gawain practically a subject for canonization; as a result,
his failure of courage and honour becomes minimized to the point of apparent
irrelevance, and the work itself becomes no more than a sermon.
One cannot, of course, disguise the fact that Bertilak's lady has every intention
of trying to seduce Gawain. She makes this abundantly clear at their first meeting
in the hero's bedroom, with the unblushingly direct statement:
3e ar welcumt o my cors,
Yowre awen won to wale. (I237)
Three times she comes to the knight's room, and each time suggests more or less
delicately that her favours are his for the taking. Throughout the term of the
three encounters she manipulates the thread of conversation, and always it is of
love. Despite her singlemindedness of purpose, though, we see no indication of
libidinous response on the part of Gawain until the third morning. He replies with
tactful good humour to her questions about himself and love, and delicately
parries her persistent proposals, all the while demurring modestly when confronted
with her statements about his reputation as a ladies' man. The knight shows no
sign of being swept off his feet by the lady's advances, nor does he give the appear-
ance of unduly relishing her kisses. He is completely in control of the situation-
at least until that dangerous moment on the third morning when, awaking from a
terror-filled dream, he is thrown off guard by the sight of the seductively beautiful
chatelaine, who enters his room
6 The Meaningo f 'Sir Gawaina nd the GreenK night'
Hir bryuenf ace & hi1rr ote prowena l naked,
Hir brest bare bifore, & bihinde eke. (1740)
For the first time we see Gawain in danger of compromising himself:
Gretp erileb i-tweneh em stod,
Nif Maryeo f hir kny3tc on mynne. (17 68)
But wherein consists the danger? Not in a violation of chastity, for despite the
mention of Mary, what is expressed very explicitly in the following lines is the fear
of Gawain's violating the observance of courtesy to the lady and that of loyalty
to his host. The poem states unequivocally:
He caredf or his cortaysye,l est cralayn he were,
& moref or his meschef,3 if he schuldem akes ynne
& be traytort o bat tolkeb at pat telde a3t. (I773)
The major sins which Gawain contemplates here are sins against the chivalric
code, not the code of specifically Christian behaviour. The term synnei s used in
reference to unchastity, but according to the logic of the knight's thought we see
it to be in effect a venial sin, more important for its implications of secular failure
than in itself. The betrayal of Bertilak, which by definition would follow from the
hero's submission to the lady's appeal, is for Gawain the truly heinous offence to be
avoided; and it is the contemplation of this possibility which causes him to exclaim,
'God schylde ... pat schal not befalle' (1776).
Bertilak's lady bends every effort to seduce Gawain, but not because she is
concerned to test his reputation as a chaste man. After all, her conversation is
full of thinly-veiled allusions to his fame as a lover. She employs the device of sex
as a means to the end of testing the knight's sense of loyalty to his host,1 and of
discovering the limits of that courteous behaviour for which Gawain is famous.
The lady knows full well that the offer of her person would prove irresistible to
most men, given the power of the masculine libido coupled with pride at the thought
of such a prestigious conquest. She knows also that to refuse such a gift from a
superior is an extremely difficult and delicate undertaking, from the standpoint of
preserving the cortaysyeso important to the chivalric way of life. Gawain cannot
simply play the boor and tell his hostess to desist (as might many another hero of
romance): given his traditional reputation for refinement of manners - a point on
which the lady has harped a number of times to his face - he must cope with the
situation tactfully, while preserving the integrity of his relationship as Bertilak's
guest. Thus the hero's chastity is here no more than a negative virtue. It is suppor-
ted by moral probity of a kind, but moral probity based specifically on the tenets
of the chivalric code.
Though chastity is not the subject of this trial, it is untrue to the story and unfair
to Gawain to assert that the Temptation is 'accompanied by circumstances which
make it singularly untempting'2 - a point of view held by some critics who feel
that the audience is never meant to take the testing seriously. The circumstances
referred to are the high position of the lady (which we have seen does not make her
1 Though not admissible as direct proof, it is worth keeping in mind the point of this type of test
as traditionally utilized in medieval literature: whether or not the hero knows he is being tested, his
enforced exposure to the temptress is designed to test in some fashion his obedience to the demands
of the guest-host relationship.
2 Friedman, 'Morgan', p. 266.
GORDON M. SHEDD 7
therefore less desirable or attractive) and Gawain's supposed constant awareness
of his approaching encounter at the Green Chapel. To view the hero as unremit-
tingly beset with sobering thoughts is to neglect the evidence of the work itself and
to do the grossest injustice to the character of Gawain. Were his rejection of the
lady prompted merely by a kind of spiritual impotence occasioned by morbid
ruminating on the return blow, there would be absolutely nothing commendable
about his decision. Moreover, the whole tenor of Gawain's sojourn at Bertilak's
castle is one of holiday gaiety, in which the 'gay Gawan' - as he is most frequently
called by the poet - takes a conspicuous part. His verbal fencing matches with
Bertilak's wife are conducted in a lightly bantering vein, and when in the company
of the rest of the court, we are told, 'pe lede with le ladye3 layked alle day' (1560).
There is every indication that Gawain's stay at the castle is a most pleasant one,
and that he contributes in no small measure to making the holiday season a time
of mirth and good fellowship. It is in keeping with his legendary light-hearted
behaviour that our hero refuses to dwell morosely on the grim possibilities of the
coming encounter, but lives cheerfully from day to day.
The point to be made here is that, given by the poet the portrait of a naturally
sanguine and optimistic spirit, we are able to recognize clearly that important
moment in the story when Gawain's lightness of heart deserts him, and are thus
equipped to understand more fully the motive for his failure. The moment occurs
during the third bedroom scene already alluded to, and is foreshadowed by mention
of the frightening dream under whose spell the knight is labouring when awakened
by the lady. This is the only reference made to such dreams (hardly enough
evidence on which to convict the hero of morbidity of spirit), and the fact that
Gawain is dreaming of the Green Chapel is scarcely remarkable, considering that
the ensuing day will find him there. One senses that it is as much the hero's violent
rejection of the mood of the dream as it is the fetching vision of Bertilak's lady
beside his bed which causes him nearly to forget the demands of loyalty to his host,
at this point. But once fully awake, Gawain's moral perspective resumes focus,
and all goes well until the chatelaine introduces the subject of a parting gift. There
is no proof that she uses the term 'Pis de-partyng' (1798) with any purpose of
double entendre, but the effect is certainly to remind Gawain that this parting
may be forever. It is he who mentions that he has come to this part of the world
on 'an erande in erde3 vncoupe' (I808), but the lady's request for a memento,
coupled with his memory of the recent dream, is responsible for creating the sombre
mood which is to produce Gawain's failure of courage.
Having offered the knight a gold ring, which he rejects because he cannot
respond with a suitable gift, the lady then twice offers the Green Girdle which she
is wearing. Gawain also refuses this, the first time, and it is not until she mentions
in an offhand way that it has the power of rendering the wearer invincible to harm
that he begins to weaken:
Den kest pe kny3t, & hit come to his hert,
Hit were a juel for be jopardeP at hym iuggedw ere,
When he acheued to Pe chapel, his chek forto fech. (I855)
The lady having minced no words in stating that with the magic Girdle in his
possession 'he my3t not be slayn for sly3t vpon erpe' (I854), Gawain needs no
more prods to the imagination to become suddenly and fully aware once more of
8 The Meaningo f 'Sir Gawaina nd the GreenK night'
the dangers inherent in his approaching encounter. For a week he has been
insulated from the stark realities of the northern winter and his perilous mission
by the festive warmth of Bertilak's court. On this morning, however, a concatena-
tion of circumstances conspires abruptly to return him to consideration of the grim
possibilities that wait outside, and the shock of their return is overwhelming. As
a result the knight succumbs to the fear they generate, and in the toils of this
emotion is misled into reasoning that to cheat certain death by accepting the
talisman would be a 'noble' stratagem. So disordered is Gawain's perspective
by the sudden approach of fear and the equally sudden prospect of salvation that
he listens in a daze to the lady's appeal to take the Girdle - 'kenne he bulged
with hir lrepe, & poled hir to speke' (1859) - and unthinkingly agrees both to
accept the lace and to conceal his acceptance from Bertilak. Face to face one
moment with the fear of death, and offered in the next the gift of life, the hero is
thoroughly confounded by his warring emotions, and in this confused state commits
two grave breaches of the chivalric code. By accepting the Girdle he gives in to
fear, and by agreeing to the lady's request for silence he violates his sworn word to
Bertilak vis-a-vis the exchange of winnings.
The Gawain of this scene is neither the 'gay Gawan' nor the knightly paragon
of the Beheading Game and the first two bedroom scenes. H-e is a frightened,
confused, fallible human being whose emotions dominate his reason and becloud
his grasp of right and wrong. And unlike the first testing situation, this trial has
elicited failure. Alone, without the psychological support of an audience and
without the armour of foreknowledge that he is being tested for chivalric virtues,
Gawain displays imperfections that are all the more dramatically obvious because
neither romance tradition nor the poem itself thus far have prepared us
for them.
The magnitude of the hero's error in this moment of crisis is directly linked to the
suddenness of the event; this.point is worth stressing, because it explains Gawain's
dramatic access of self-awareness and shame at the Green Chapel, and because it
explains away his (to some critics) 'hypocritical' behaviour in the confession
scene. Not only is the knight blind to the moral implications of his action at the
moment of accepting the lace with its condition of silence: in his haste to be made
clean spiritually and thus prepared for the morrow, he rushes off to confession
without yet having realized his wrong. Fear of death is not a sin within the
purlieu of religion, of course, but violation of a sworn compact is. Gawain reviews
his sins 'of ke more & Pe mynne' (I88I), but that he doesn't recognize the necessity
for confessing his broken pledge is deducible from his subsequent withholding of the
Green Girdle from Bertilak. Had the priest been informed of the sin, return of the
lace would have been a necessary condition of valid absolution; had Gawain
intended to conceal his sin from the priest he would not have bothered going to
confession, since by definition the absolution received would be worthless. Engel-
hardt alludes to the hero's 'false conscience',1 and Burrow states that to a medieval
reader 'it would have been clear ... that Gawain was not "clene" and that the
priest's absolution was invalid' ;2 the truth remains that the knight goes voluntarily
1 George J. Engelhardt, 'The Predicament of Gawain', M.L.Q., 16 (I955), 222.
2 John Burrow, 'The Two Confession Scenes in Sir Gawaina nd the GreenK night', M.P., 57 (I959),
74.
GORDON M. SHEDD 9
to confession, and afterwards appears genuinely uplifted in spirit. We can only
conclude that as yet he has neither recognized nor concealed his violated trawfie.
The high spirits displayed by Gawain after being shriven are such that those
around him feel compelled to remark that 'bus myry he wat3 neuer are' (I891):
these are the high spirits of a man buoyed by the certainty that he has been truly
asoyleda, nd who is therefore ready for whatever may befall - not those of a hypo-
crite or one whose hysterical gaiety masks an inner unease. Gawain does not
comprehend his wrong until it is pointed out to him by the Man in Green.
Before we are allowed to witness the fateful scene at the Green Chapel, the poet
introduces a transitional scene in which we are made to see the hero once more in
command of himself- once more the familiar strong figure. Arrived at a place
not far from the Chapel, Gawain and his guide halt for a moment, and the guide
suggests that should the hero prefer the path of flight to that of continuing on, no
one need be the wiser. The situation and Gawain's reaction to it are reminiscent
of an earlier moment in the poem when, despite his friends' muttered hints that
prudence might be a more fruitful course than valour, the knight steadfastly
turns his back on Camelot. In thanking the guide for his offer of silence Gawain
is 'gruchyng' (2126), and his instinctive dislike of the man for his expedient
solution to the problem lends strength to our impression that the hero is once more
whole in spirit.l Further, neither here nor later do we sense the smug optimism
we might expect from a man possessed of a charm like the Girdle. Not only does
Gawain seem to have forgotten its promised powers, but twice he invokes God
alone as the source of any comfort or aid he may receive in the coming trial. 'Ful
wel con dry3tyn schape/ His seruaunte3 forto saue' (2138), he says, and we are
heartened at this expression of a return to his normal perspective.
Continuing on his way alone, the knight arrives at what can be described only
as the most unimpressive perilous chapel in romance - it is 'nobot an olde caue'
(2 82). There is humour in this anticlimactic aspect of the place where the hero is to
undergo his final and greatest trial, and the humour is reinforced by Gawain's
unconscious delivery of a perfect oxymoron: 'Hit is be corsedest kyrk bat euer I
com inne' (2196), he says gravely. But the humour is present not merely for the
sake of comic relief: by stressing the thoroughly undramatic nature of the Green
Chapel in this fashion, the poet invites our comparison of this scene with that of
the challenge at Camelot. As a result, we are made aware of the important truth
that there is no necessary connexion between the external trappings of life's
various moments and the gravity of those moments themselves. We see that we
cannot depend on the sounding of trumpets for warning that what we do next will
vitally affect the shape of our lives. Unlike the confrontation at Camelot, this
meeting is to take place without the inspirational setting provided by friendly faces
and a familiar hall, and the loneliness of the site heightens our awareness ofjust how
alone Gawain stands at this crucial encounter.
The scene at the Green Chapel is one of the richest and most skilfully wrought
in all of medieval literature. It parallels in miniature the whole progress of the
1 The highly moral - and rather pompous - tone in which Gawain rejects his guide's unethical
suggestion is amusing as well as reassuring. We recognize the hero's genuine indignation, but we
cannot help noting the irony of the situation: just the morning before this he thankfully accepted
the Green Girdle from Bertilak's wife.
Io The Meaningo f 'Sir Gawaina nd the GreenK night'
story thus far, amplifying and clarifying the significance of Gawain's behaviour.
Beyond this, it unifies the poem by serving as the common culmination of both
testing situations, thereby adding perspective to their similarities and differences.
Finally, while presenting us with the spectacle of the hero's enlightenment - his
movement from ignorance to awareness of self-- this climactic scene reminds us
of the essential duality of human nature: in the person of Gawain we recognize
the strengths and weaknesses of all men, and with him we are reminded that the
real opponent against whom we strive is no external bogeyman, but the man
within.
The two abortive blows and the final grazing cut administered by the Green
Knight are, as he tells us clearly, symbolic of the results of Gawain's three days'
testing at the castle. In attending to this explanation we may forget that, in terms
of plot, the meeting at the Chapel in its primary function serves to conclude the
Beheading Game. We may also fail to note the interesting parallel between
Gawain's behaviour here, and that during and after the course of the Temptation.
Having met the Man in Green, the knight vows that he shall 'stonde stylle' (2252),
but as the axe descends for the first time he shrinksi n fear. This instinctive reaction,
coupled with the Green Knight's accusation that 'you fles for ferde er tou fele
harme3' (2272), reminds us of Gawain's betrayal by fear when the final encounter
was still a day hence. As the axe is raised a second time the hero stands 'stylle as
... ston' (2293), and the axeman's statement -'Now pou hat3 li hert holle'
(2296) - recalls the portrait of the morally revitalized Gawain who refuses his
guide's suggestion of flight. The third blow, then, is symbolic payment both for the
knight's momentary fear at the Chapel and his failure at the castle; thus the two
major strands of plot are knit together in one ritual act.
The Green Knight's address to Gawain after the ordeal is much more than a
mere statement of facts or clarification of events: in tone and phrasing it is a
compassionate recognition of the fact of human imperfection. The hero's error is
pointed out, but at the same time he is praised as 'On pe fautlest freke pat euer on
fote 3ede' (2363). Noticeably missing is that mocking and contemptuous attitude
towards human fear which characterized the challenger's speech at Camelot.
In its place we find the remarkable and highly significant pronouncement, 'But for
3e lufed your lyf, 1e lasse I yow blame' (2368). Instead of calling the knight a
coward - the negative term cowarddysies used only by Gawain himself- he puts
the hero's behaviour in a positive light as love of life. This is not a verdict of
acquittal: Gawain's temporary possession by fear, however sympathetically
viewed, cannot be dismissed; and certainly his breach of lewte is demanding of
censure; but the verdict of guilty is tempered by a mercy whose springs lie com-
pletely outside the chivalric code of conduct. Throughout the poem thus far we
have been observing, in the person of Gawain, the embodiment of an artificial
system of conduct. His successes can be viewed as triumphs for the code, his
failures as breaches of the code. But this is not at all the frame of reference from
which the Man in Green judges him. He passes review on Gawain simply as one
enlightened human being on another, and we see that behaviour which would be
adjudged inexcusable by one standard of evaluation is found understandable and
worthy of clemency by another.
The Green Knight, who at Camelot had seemed nothing more than a stock
mechanical ogre whimsically bent on destroying the court's reputation, appears
GORDON M. SHEDD II
in this scene as a sympathetic and wise judge,' and we unhesitatingly accept his
pronouncement as truly befitting the case. In so doing, we in effect dismiss the
authority of the code by which Gawain has been living and acting, and in whose
view he would have to be considered guilty of irreparable and unforgivable
wrongdoing. For it must be observed that the Man in Green's appeal to love of
life is totally irrelevant by chivalric standards, whose bases are courage and honour,
and whose tenets are grounded in the attempt rigorously to subjugate the natural
impulses of man. The situation is ironical, because the original motivation for the
creation of a knightly code was just this recognition of man's essential nature,
coupled with a desire to channel that nature towards behaviour most productive
of a fruitful life. Yet through the process of codification the original insight has
been dimmed, and the code has tended to become worshipped as an end in itself.
The most dangerous and reprehensible outgrowth of this idolatry is the unconscious
assumption that through faithful adherence to the code human perfection is
possible. As the chivalric way of life gains stature and as its 'virtues' become
entabulated, there attaches to it the implicit promise that scrupulous adherence
will produce a perfect man. We have seen what this loss of perspective does to the
literature it spawns: it creates a seemingly endless succession of success stories.
And we have seen what this loss of perspective does to that of the individual who
blindly follows the code: Gawain has been looking, throughout the poem, for an
external, concrete enemy; and in the process he has shown his ignorance of the
truth that the real enemy is himself.2
The hero does not, of course, immediately grasp the full significance of the
Green Knight's pronouncement, for he is too stunned by the simple revelation of
failure, as the poet effectively shows us:
1 This deepening and transformation of character follows naturally from Bertilak's enlargement
of function. Merely a plot device in the Beheading Game portion of the poem, where he is controlled
mechanically by the author, he appears in this scene as a thoroughly human figure, and as interpreter
of the plot. This double function is explicable not primarily in terms of his dual status as tool of
Morgan and lord in his own right, but follows from the uses to which the poet puts him. It cannot
be argued that the change in character is due to disenchantment, because the poet deliberately
leaves the Green Knight's physical state unresolved. Quite simply, this is so because the author has
no interest in the fate of Bertilak in his lesser role of plot device, and because he is fully aware of the
dangers of intruding a solution at this point. Not at all committed to traditional employment of his
traditional materials, the Gawain-poet feels no obligation to tidy up his plot at the expense of meaning.
Should he interject the theatrics of disenchantment at this crucial moment in the work, the meaning
ef the whole piece would be dissipated by external spectacle, and Sir Gawainw ould degenerate into
just another tale of adventure.
2 The contest between Gawain and the Man in Green can be viewed, in symbolic terms, as a
struggle between the civilized and natural aspects of human nature. This point has been made
effectively by William Goldhurst in 'The Green and the Gold: the Major Theme of Sir Gawain and
theG reenK night', CollegeE nglish, 20 (1958), 61-5. Goldhurst states that gold in the poem (the colour
most used in descriptions of Gawain) symbolizes the refined, sophisticated values and actions of man;
this is contrasted with the greenness of the Green Knight, suggestive of man's primitive, sensual,
emotional side. Goldhurst is too concerned to prove the juxtaposition of these symbols in the work,
however, and in the process slights their dramatically antagonistic position throughout the poem.
Human nature does partake of both green and gold, but Gawain's blindness to this truth is signified
by his insistence, until the moment of revelation, upon regarding the Green Knight as his sworn
enemy. In adopting the Green Girdle as a reminder of his failure, the hero symbolically adopts
that part of his being which he had formerly refused to acknowledge. The meeting at the Chapel
underscores the point that man cannot and should not deny part of himself, nor consider the 'natural
man' an enemy, but recognize the complex nature to which he is heir, and strive to achieve a balanced
and complementary relationship between its parts.