EROTIC TRESSES:

HAIR AND POWER IN MEDIEVAL FRENCH NARRATIVE

AN ABSTRACT

SUBMITTED ON THE SIXTEENTH DAY OF NOVEMBER 2018

TO THE DEPARTMENT OF FRENCH AND ITALIAN

IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS

OF THE SCHOOL OF LIBERAL ARTS

OF TULANE UNIVERSITY

FOR THE DEGREE

OF

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

BY

______

Leslie Anderson

APPROVED: ______Elizabeth Poe, Ph.D. Director

______

Fayçal Falaky, Ph.D.

______

Mimi Schippers, Ph.D.

Abstract

This dissertation addresses how women’s hair in medieval French literature denotes female sexuality by untangling the narrative conveyed by long, glorious tresses, head-coverings, and hairstyles. By analyzing descriptions and imagery of hair, head- coverings, and the removal of hair, I examine how women’s hair mediates social hierarchy. My proposition is that beneath the external image of female hair resides a narrative of language and dominance. In the first chapter I argue that medieval authors use hair as a locus of power and desire. In undertaking this research, I seek to deconstruct power relations that existed between the sexes in medieval French culture.

The first chapter explores hair as a fetish object in two Courtly Love romances by

Chrétien de Troyes,’ Cligès and Le Chevalier de la charrette. The ingenuity of two noble heroines is overshadowed by the sexual desire of the two male characters and their subsequent empowerment via eroticized tresses. In chapter two I consider situations in which attention to hair turns violent in the fabliau Les Treces and in the romances

Floriant et Florette and Le Roman de la Rose. Again, I find that men gain privilege through the abuse and dominance of women via their hair. Finally, I treat women appropriating power via hair across in two romances, Flamenca, from Occitania, and Le bel inconnu, and in two lais of Marie de France, Eliduc and Lanval. I treat religious female head coverings to show how two women manipulate religious settings to their advantage, and I consider Otherworldly fairies who uncover their hair, deliberately wielding their sexuality to gain influence and dominate male figures.

EROTIC TRESSES:

HAIR AND POWER IN MEDIEVAL FRENCH NARRATIVE

A DISSERTATION

SUBMITTED ON THE SIXTEENTH DAY OF NOVEMBER 2018

TO THE DEPARTMENT OF FRENCH AND ITALIAN

IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS

OF THE SCHOOL OF LIBERAL ARTS

OF TULANE UNIVERSITY

FOR THE DEGREE

OF

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

BY

______

Leslie Anderson

APPROVED: ______Elizabeth Poe, Ph.D. Director

______

Fayçal Falaky, Ph.D.

______

Mimi Schippers, Ph.D

Acknowledgements

I would like to acknowledge a few women, without whom I would not be who I am and where I am today. First and foremost is my mother, Lori Burress, who has enthusiastically supported me and unconditionally loved me for twenty-nine years. I have infinite appreciation for you for putting up with me during the bad times and sticking by my side when it has mattered most. This is for both of us! To Annie and Emily, I can only hope to return in kind the moral support you have given me over the months. You ladies are my best cheerleaders and brainstormers – a thousand thanks. Karen Taylor also deserves special mention, for first planting a medievalist seed in my soul and introducing me to the œuvre of Marie de France. I would also like to thank Wendy Pfeffer, a mentor during and beyond my time at the University of Louisville. I am grateful to have had the chance to develop and hone my interest in medieval French under your guidance. And finally, Beth Poe, it has been the honor of my graduate career to have you directing my dissertation. Your indomitable wit and good humor have encouraged me to keep my chin up numerous times, and I have nothing but fond and fun memories of your classes, our meetings, and, of course, FOOF!

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TABLE OF CONTENTS ACKNOWLEGEMENTS ...... II INTRODUCTION: THE ROOTS OF FEMALE SEXUALITY ...... 1 CHAPTER ONE: FETISHIZING HAIR IN THE ROMANCES OF CHRÉTIEN DE TROYES ...... 12 INTRODUCTION ...... 12 “MASTER OF THE WORLD:” HAIR AS AN EROTIC GIFT IN CLIGÉS ...... 13 FEMINIZATION TO DOMINATION IN LE CHEVALIER DE LA CHARRETTE ...... 32 CONCLUSION ...... 57 CHAPTER TWO: VIOLENCE AND MALE DOMINANCE: FEMALE HAIR AS A LOCUS OF PUNISHMENT ...... 62 INTRODUCTION ...... 62 MALE JEALOUSY AND PUNISHMENT OF THE FEMALE BODY ...... 66 SEXUAL VIOLENCE AND CLASS RELATIONS IN “LES TRECES” ...... 87 FEMALE AMBITION AND COMPULSORY HETEROSEXUALITY IN FLORIANT ET FLORETE ...... 95 CONCLUSION ...... 107 CHAPTER THREE: TENDRILS OF SUBVERSION: FEMALE SEXUALITY UNTANGLED AND UNBOUND ...... 113 INTRODUCTION ...... 113 HOLY HAIR: THE VEIL AS A SOURCE OF FEMALE EMPOWERMENT IN ELIDUC ...... 116 FLAMENCA, THE BENDA, AND TONSURED LOVE: A “HOST” OF DIVINE ROMANCE ...... 135 TRESSES D’OR: OTHERWORLDLY HAIR IN LANVAL AND LE BEL INCONNU ...... 147 CONCLUSION ...... 165 CONCLUSION ...... 170 BIBLIOGRAPHY ...... 177

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Introduction: The Roots of Female Sexuality

Hair is something near and dear to us all. It is unique to us in that it is an extension of the living body, continuously growing and changing, while at the same time it is dead. Medieval scholar Robert Bartlett aptly points out that hair is a “bearer of meaning:” it is malleable, so it can be shaped, colored, removed. But, unlike clothing, it is organic in that it comes from the body. Because it is visible, it conveys public and social symbolism, while at the same time it is personal and private (43). During the

Middle Ages, and even still today, hair was a crucial component of identity. In literature of the period, women’s hair color, texture, and style alone were enough to identify a noble woman from a commoner, a heroine from a villain, and a modest woman from a harlot. This dissertation is rooted in the narratives spun by and through women’s hair in medieval French literature from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Inspired by the prevalence of descriptions of women’s hair in medieval narrative coupled with the notion of hair as a projection of social symbolism and personal meaning, this body of research endeavors to uncover the significance of female hair in the Middle Ages as a locus of sexuality. The story told by women’s hair in medieval French literature is one of fetishization, abuse, and power all derived from the control and exploitation of female hair. Authors of this literature use women’s hair as a plot device to empower male characters through the display of male authority over the female body and the fetishistic adoration of women’s hair. This does not eliminate the possibility for women themselves to wield hair as a

1 powerful tool; in fact, certain examples will illustrate that women, in addition to men could find social advancement and independence through the clever manipulation of their hair styles.

Since before the Hellenistic age, female sexuality in the Western world has served as a reflection of the character of the men with whom the woman is affiliated. A woman who did not uphold socially-defined moral codes discredited and shamed the men responsible for and related to her. This image of female morality has a long-established connection to female sartorial customs and the body. Ancient Greek fashion historian

Lloyd Llewellyn-Jones first traces the notion of female visibility and privacy through dress as early as the fourth century BCE through the appearance of the tegidion, a type of female veil and head-covering. He translates tegidion as “little house,” suggesting a way for women to move as safely in public as she does in the privacy of her own home (252).

This type of veil, while almost entirely masking the face, allowed women space to move freely outside of the confines of the domestic sphere while maintaining modesty and decorum (Llewellyn-Jones 257). As women’s lives became increasingly more public during this period, the tegidion emerged as “a significant move towards the public control of female sexuality as a guarantor of male honor…” (Llewellyn-Jones 256). The case of ancient Greece also indicates that from a very early time female hair was linked to women’s sexuality and virtue. A virtuous Greek woman covered her hair and face in public or at home when in the presence of male guests (Llewellyn-Jones 254-5). This ancient tradition linking hair and sexuality continued and evolved, becoming a fundamental tenet in early and medieval Christianity. Vestiges of this religious ideology remain present in Western culture even today.

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The importance of hair is made evident in the Bible and the Tanach through numerous examples of men’s and women’s hair. In the Old Testament Samson’s strength is directly dependent upon the preservation of his hair, and King Solomon worships the beauty of his beloved’s tresses (Judges 13-16, Song of Solomon 4:1). In the New

Testament Gospels, Mary uses her hair to wash and perfume Jesus’ feet (John 11:2;

12:3). These are just a few prominent examples. The length of women’s hair and the proper head-covering was of import to the apostle Paul. During the Apostolic Age, he wrote to the Corinthians to warn women to consider the shame that immodest comportment could confer on their husbands. J. Duncan Derrett notes that “In Corinth some women had begun to pray and ‘prophesy’ in men’s company at times of public worship without a head-covering, as an overt sign of their sexual liberation and equality…” (101). In this epistle Paul states,

Every man who prays or prophesies with his head covered dishonors his head. But every woman who prays or prophesies with her head uncovered dishonors her head—it is the same as having her head shaved. For if a woman does not cover her head, she might as well have her hair cut off; but if it is a disgrace for a woman to have her hair cut off or her hair shaved, then she should cover her head. (1 Corinthians 11: 4-6)

The notion that a woman with a bald head or shorn hair is a shameful woman blossoms under this New Testament canon. In this same letter, Paul explains that a woman’s hair is something of beauty that serves to protect and cover her head from the shame of being without hair. Because man is from God he has no need to cover his head, but because woman is of man she must cover her head during prayer (1 Corinthians 11: 13-15).

Derrett affirms that “The real reason why Eastern women’s hair is covered is, as Paul himself indicates, its universal acceptance as a sign of sexual attractiveness… it was

3 because of the long tresses that [the female head] needed to be covered” (101). The importance of veiling, as expressed in Paul’s address to the Corinthians, provides evidence that a woman’s head was a site of eroticism and that her hair, and by extension her sexuality, should only be displayed in certain situations. The treatment and understanding of hair are not uniform for both men and women. Indeed, men, because of their presumed greater similarity to God and perceived restrained sexuality, were not bound to the same conventions of morality.

Ancient Greek and Judeo-Christian traditions are not the only cultures that adhere to this view. The Qur’an also teaches modesty to Muslim women through covering the head and body. An-Nur 31 says “And tell the believing women to lower their eyes, and guard their modesty, and to display not their ornaments except what appears of them.

And that they draw their scarves over their bosom...” The debate over exactly how much of the body should be covered and veiled remains a sensitive topic in the Muslim world.

What is made very clear though, from each of these examples, is that female hair, across

Middle Eastern and emerging Western civilizations, when uncovered, is a locus of sexuality and, when covered, a reflection of modesty that is without parallel in their male counterparts.

In light of the prevailing historic significance of female hair as a sexual signifier, it is remarkable that little research has been conducted to untangle webs of meaning and root out the significance of this phenomenon, specifically in medieval literature. Since female hair does play a pivotal role in literature of the period, this research proposes to address the lacuna not only in medieval studies, but also in women, gender, and sexuality studies. The importance of tracing the history of sexuality has been established by sociologists like Michel Foucault who, in his History of Sexuality Volume 1, argues that

4 previous scholarship surrounding human sexuality was looking at sexuality and power incorrectly. His work reveals that true power resides in the discourse of sexuality. Those who set the standard of sexual normalcy are the ones who hold power. Instead of viewing sexuality as something to be discovered, Foucault approached sexuality as something that is created and institutionalized. Foucault’s method of perceiving power greatly impacted modern sexuality studies.

As a result of Foucault’s research, many scholars now seek to answer the question of who is producing the facts and knowledge about sexuality, thereby gaining power over others. During the Middle Ages, the Church was the principal custodian and disseminator of information and morality to the public. It is no secret then, that medieval sexuality was defined by codes of normalcy established by the Catholic Church. Medieval sexuality historians such as James A. Brundage and Ruth Mazo Karras have long understood how the Church directly sought to control sexuality through Canon law by establishing judiciary processes for illicit behaviors. Brundage clarifies,

The Church set out to enforce a system of sexual rules through both formal and informal mechanisms. Informal methods included persuading sermons, and teachings, familial and peer pressure to modify behavior, and internal checks affecting conscious, shame and fear. Formal enforcement methods included penal action, instructions/penance imposed in confession, and sanctions brought against sexual transgressors (“Playing by the Rules” 25).

Despite this well-ordered system, many examples of French literature testify that common sexual practices were often far removed from Church doctrine. Not only were couples engaging in adulterous sex, but homosexuality, aberrant sexual positions, and illegal sex acts were also evinced in popular literature.

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French historian Georges Duby provides a second model existing throughout the

Middle Ages: the aristocratic institution of marriage in feudal society. Duby thoroughly outlines this second paradigm and explains that the social motive for institutionalized marriage was to establish peace and treaties between two houses (Medieval Marriage).

This required that one house give up a woman so that the other house may acquire that woman, thus cementing the practice of exchanging women as commodities. This practice, which continued beyond the Middle Ages, was heavily critiqued in the 1960s and 70s by second-wave feminist scholars like Gayle Rubin and Luce Irigaray. Their articles, “The

Traffic in Women: Notes on the ‘Political Economy’ of Sex” (Rubin) and “Women on the Market” (Irigaray), address the idea that women are sexually oppressed objects of exchange between men. Duby’s argument for marriage as a tool to unite powerful houses, in conjunction with the feminist scholarship of authors like Rubin and Irigaray, provide an excellent model of how my research applies feminist literary critique to medieval institutions and literature tin order to yield a better social understanding of women’s sexuality during that period.

In addition to the previously mentioned academicians, this analysis of medieval female sexuality is supported by a host of feminist scholarship. In her groundbreaking article, “Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence,” Adrienne Rich argues that heterosexuality is an institutionalized system that pushes women into secondary roles in society. The social organization of heterosexuality coaxes women to form heterosexual bonds with men through various channels, which leads to men’s dominance over women.

Rich’s theory is applicable to medieval romance literature where heroines are coerced into marriages often against their will and frequently against their heart’s desire. Her idea

6 of male bonding over the control of women in the context of medieval feudalism and chivalry.

Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick likewise explores the bonds formed between men in heterosexual romantic triangles in her book, Between Men: English Literature and Male

Homosocial Desire. According to Sedgwick, male rivalries over women serve multiple goals: the romantic rivalry attests to the men’s heterosexuality, vilifying and marginalizing homosexuality, and the women in this triangle become secondary, passive, and objectified by the two heterosexual men. The ways in which women are subjugated by male bonding changes over time and from triangle to triangle. Her analysis of homosocial male bonds reveals key information surrounding power relations between men. Sedgwick’s insight into male bonding reveals a wealth of possible parallels with feudal bonds between lords and vassals. The power structures behind male homosocial bonds turn the medieval court into a battle ground for exploits of male competition and dominance over women. L’amour courtois, courtly love, is the instrument through which power is both challenged and displayed.

Finally, Audre Lorde’s article, “The Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power,” supports the previous theories by emphasizing one leading tactic of female suppression.

Lorde argues that the erotic is a source of female knowledge and power that patriarchy has contained and silenced by misrepresenting feminine eroticism. For Lorde, the erotic is related to female passion, creativity, and pleasure in every aspect of life. This article is important to my research because it explains one possibility for female characters to express their desire and wield true power when they are able to express and tap into the erotic. Some medieval heroines in the literature analyzed here, in touch with their own desire and self-knowledge, are elevated to powerful positions because they are in tune

7 with the erotic. This is particularly evident with Otherworldly women who live outside of the realm of feudalism, indicating that only when medieval institutions of male power are toppled can women experience true agency.

Expanding the understanding of the history of female sexuality by responding to a gap in the scholarship surrounding how hair is a locus of sexuality is the central focus of this dissertation. While studies by other scholars have endeavored to probe into medieval sexuality, my dissertation, which examines this topic through the lens of women’s hair provides a unique perspective. Just as how Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick argues that analyses of romantic triangles reveal a variety of power structures amongst men as well as between men and women, female hair has a rich history and cultural significance that can offer telling insight into the status and opportunities available to women during the

Middle Ages. My research on female hair also reveals information about male sexuality and homosocial relationships, as well as details about class disparity and inequality. This information remains relevant in modern culture and provides understanding of key elements of the history of human sexuality. Intersectionality, approaching a topic through an analysis of the interconnectedness of categories such as race, class, and gender, is lacking in medieval sexuality studies. This dissertation seeks to address in part how class and female sexuality come into play with each other in certain works of medieval French literature. This approach will, in turn, open further avenues of intersectional research in medieval studies that reach beyond female sexuality and/or French literature.

My corpus of research is limited primarily to works of literature produced in the langue d’oil from northern France and French-speaking England, one exception being an

Occitan romance produced in the south of France. These works date from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. I am particularly concerned with this literature because of the

8 prevalence of examples of imagery of female hair and underlying symbolism linking hair to sexuality. The Middle Ages saw the birth of a new genre of narrative, romance, which quickly gained popularity with audiences. Romance often depicted the adventures of venerated knights of King Arthur’s legendary court and the heroines who become objects of their desire. Other popular genres, such as fabliaux and lais, reflect medieval values and lifestyles. The former testifies to the reality of male supremacy in everyday domestic life as well as the widespread appreciate of bawdy tales. The latter genre more frequently upholds the traditions of courtly love and chivalry found throughout romance literature.

These genres, written in the vernacular rather than Latin, were transmitted orally as well as through writing. I furthermore limited my corpus to narratives in which hair styles, head coverings, and imagery of female hair play a predominant part in the understanding of female sexuality. Staying within the parameters of this corpus allows a thorough analysis of female hair so as to unveil the stories told by women’s hair in French medieval literature.

My research expands our understanding of human sexuality, especially at a time when women, gender, and sexuality studies are seen as critical to our understanding of ourselves and those around us, and when there is growing awareness and counteraction against prejudice and inequalities between people of different gender, sexual orientation, race, ability, and age. What this dissertation specifically proposes to do is to revisit, from a feminist perspective, the cultural productions of medieval France in order to trace the roots of these issues still visible today. Thorough deconstruction of a given text and the situations it portrays, we can get a snapshot of the society in which it was produced. This analysis breaks down the power structures and sex-based inequalities between men and

9 women during the Middle Ages that manifest in literature through the image of female hair.

Each chapter uses various cornerstone theories from feminist and gender studies in order to approach the chapter’s theme and body of texts. Chapter one looks at female hair as a fetish object in medieval romance from northern France. The two Arthurian romances analyzed in this chapter raise questions about the uses of hair detached from the female body as a stimulant for male arousal and a synecdoche for the female body. Here, hair is treated as a precious, almost holy, artifact that is treasured and caressed by infatuated knights. Viewing these detached strands of golden hair as fetish objects, I argue that these knights feel empowerment and invincibility from the possession of their beloved’s hair. The highly codified system of relations between king and knight additionally illustrate ideas proposed by Gayle Rubin and Luce Irigaray in regard to women as objects exchanged between men in order to solidify male bonds and reinforce male hierarchies.

Chapter two explores circumstances in which hair unleashes violence. Examples from romance and fabliau demonstrate that abusive, forceful removal of female hair reasserts male dominance and power during times of impotence and cuckoldry. Not only does shaved hair bring about ostracization and shame to female victims, it represents a violation of the female body and female subordination to male dominance. This chapter offers insight into class-based inequality during the Middle Ages. One fabliau in particular shows that women of higher status within society have the ability to dupe their husbands and avoid punishment for their infidelity while lower-class women are forced to carry the burden of female sexual misconduct and its consequences. Particularly in this regard are Adrienne Rich’s theories of the lesbian continuum and male-centeredness, as

10 well as Simone de Beauvoir’s understanding of the subject-object relationship between the sexes and her notion of transcendence. The overall thrust of this chapter is that female sexuality remained under the control of men during the Middle Ages and that men had access to violent means of assuring their dominance in the domestic sphere.

The final chapter, chapter three, considers the possibility of women appropriating power by employing their own hair as tools of sexual liberation and by manipulating the language of their hair in order to weave their own narratives. I argue that when women have access to knowledge, they gain access to power which they ultimately choose to wield over men and to ensure they obtain their desire. In this chapter, I analyze two lais of Marie de France as well as two medieval romances to illustrate different avenues of female subversion exemplified in medieval literature. I argue that the powerful women discussed in this chapter are in touch with their erotic, a source of uniquely female knowledge, first described by Audre Lorde. While true female power was limited during this period, certain female characters successfully work within the dominant system of medieval feudalism to achieve their goals while otherworldly fairy women completely reject the strict, male-centered realities of feudalism in favor of a world where sexuality is freely expressed and explored for both men and women alike.

Each chapter provides insight and perspective into female sexuality that has previously not been explored in order to demonstrate that hair was seen as inherently erotic and therefore subject to strict regulation. Since hair signifies female sexuality, it is logical that the examples of hair in this dissertation represent a larger desire to confine and control female sexuality and to seek gain through that control. My research is intended to respond to a growing interest in gender and sexuality studies reflected in both popular culture and academia and sheds light on a period in which much remains to be

11 discovered on these topics. Through a diverse corpus and feminist framework, this dissertation untangles the roots of female sexuality in medieval literature.

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Chapter One Fetishizing Hair in the Romances of Chrétien de Troyes

Introduction

In Les Poils : histoires et bizarreries, Martin Monestier asserts that throughout history, “… on trouve des hommes en adoration devant la blondeur… les ‘blondes’ surtout si elles ont les yeux bleus et le tient clair, sont parées d’innocence et même de pureté intrinsèque” (178-179).1,2 Nowhere is this perhaps more true than in medieval romance. In the Tristan legend, the Cornish King Marc falls in love with an Irish princess, Iseut, after a swallow comes to his window bearing a single strand of her golden mane. At the sight of her beautiful hair, Marc is desperate to have her. It turns out that he will spend the entirety of his marriage to Iseut questioning her love and desperate to keep her. The perfection of Iseut’s hair represents her perfection as a female specimen and embodies her femininity. Raymond Firth states that “traditionally in the West a woman’s long hair has been an ultimate token of femininity… [a] ‘woman’s crowning glory…’ By the strength of feminine attraction, one hair alone is enough to hold a man captive” (267).

This citation explains how King Marc became blinded by love; it also illustrates how female hair is capable of inciting erotic fetishism in Cligés and Le Chevalier de la

1 “… One finds men in a state of adoration before blondeness… ‘blondes,’ especially if they have blue eyes and fair skin, are attributed with innocence and even intrinsic purity.” 2 All translations provided here are by the author.

13 charrette, two twelfth-century romances by the well-known romancer, Chrétien de

Troyes. In these texts, we see male appropriation of power over female sexuality and desire by means of women’s hair and male-centered ambition for rank and prestige at the expense of their female counterparts. In one tale, the heroine creatively uses her hair as a method to communicate her desire. The other story features the legendary Queen

Guinevere who leaves behind locks of her hair during a time of duress as a clue for her lover to come find her. For both of Chrétien’s heroines, hair is no trifle; rather, it is an inventive and resourceful means of communication that ultimately weaves together a romance for one woman and liberates a captive queen. These women’s clever exploits are regrettably overshadowed by male sexual desire in their respective narratives.

Furthermore, the romancer centers the action of the two tales around the desirous knights, leaving the women marginalized and accessory. Female hair in these romances is fetishized and used to fulfill male erotic desire. While their hair empowers the male heroes, the heroines are silenced and marginalized as their golden tresses are exploited as tools of male dominance and enhancement of power.

“Master of the World:” Hair as an Erotic Gift in Cligés

Roughly one-third of Cligés tells the story of the eponymous hero’s parents,

Alixandre and Soredamors. The tale immediately draws upon the fantastic world of

Arthurian legend where the hero, Alixandre, will take a transformative voyage before returning to his homeland to assume his rightful position as emperor of Greece. In

Brittany, Alixandre exhibits his largess and chivalric virtues through magnanimous gift- giving, in which his father had counseled him before his departure:

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Biaus fiuz, fet il, de ce me croi Que Largece est dame et reïne Qui toutes vertuz enlumine, Ne n’est mie grief a prover. (ll. 192-195) 3

Alixandre is quickly admired by his peers and gains favor in court. One day, while traveling by boat with Arthur’s company, he meets Soredamors, one of Queen

Guinevere’s beautiful handmaidens. The charming demoiselle, having previously professed disdain for love, falls victim to Love’s scheming vengeance and is struck by his arrow: “Or la fera Amours dolente / Et molt se cuide bien venchier / Dou grant orgueil et dou dangier” (ll. 456-458).4 According to the medieval understanding of love,

Soredamors will immediately fall in love with the Greek knight, despite her professed disinclination for romance. Rules dictate that because Alixandre is first to catch her gaze after Love’s arrow struck her eye, she must fall hopelessly in love with him.5 She now suffers inner turmoil and hidden passion, unaware that Alixandre is also a victim of Love and has fallen for her in return. The knight, pierced by Love’s darz, exclaims, “C’est li darz qui me fait amer” (l. 788).6 This scene results in the pair kindling an intense passion one for one another, but out of fear that their love will not be reciprocated, they will each keep their sentiments hidden for some time.

3 “Dear son, he said, believe me on this / that Largesse is the lady and queen / that illuminates all virtues; / it is not difficult for me to prove.” 4 “Now Love will make her suffer / And thinks well to avenge himself / Of the great pride and caprice.” 5 For more on medieval love in relation to vision, see: Camille, Michael. “Before the Gaze: The Internal Senses and Late Medieval Practices of Seeing.” Visuality Before and Beyond the Renaissance: Seeing as Others Saw. Ed. Robert S. Neilson. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. 197-223. Page 208 Specifically addresses intromission and the psychodynamics of visual love. 6 “It is the arrow that makes me love.”

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Alixandre repeatedly proves his merit and loyalty to Arthur, and in return is granted a knighthood from the legendary king. To further reward the newly dubbed knight, Guinevere takes it upon herself to sew him a chemise “de soie blanche, molt bien faite, / Molt deliee et molt soutil” (ll. 1148-9).7 Guinevere enlists her handmaiden to help sew the garment with gold thread. While gifts from queens honoring newly dubbed knights are not uncommon, the chemise from Guinevere stands out. A chemise is a type of undergarment worn by medieval men and women alike. It was the first layer of clothing touching the body and was therefore considered intimate and private apparel, the medieval equivalent of undergarments. The thread-of-gold stitching sewn by Soredamors would run along the sides of the garment, where no eye save Alixandre’s could see the costly detail and appreciate the garment’s worth. While working beside her queen,

Soredamors sews a strand of her perfectly golden hair into the seam “Pour savoir et por esprover / Se ja porroit ame trover / Qui l’un de l’autre en devisast” (ll. 1157-9).8 The maiden’s handiwork and decision to incorporate a part of herself into this intimate garment is intended to serve an amorous purpose. It is an intentional test to see if

Alixandre is capable of recognizing Soredamors’ hair amongst the golden threads.

According to the heroine’s purpose, if Alixandre truly loves her, as she loves him, he will notice the hair amongst the thread-of-gold and seek out the flaxen head from whence it came, proving his love for her. As we have seen in the Tristan legend, one strand of hair alone has the power to make a man weak with love. Soredamors is hoping that her hair in the chemise will act as a message that delivers her beloved to her.

7 “Of white silk, very well made, / Very fine and very elegant.” 8 “To know and to verify / If a soul could ever be found / Who could distinguish one from the other.”

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Chrétien devotes many verses to the description of Soredamors’ luminescent locks, indicating the importance of her hair to the plot. Through the character of

Soredamors herself, the romancer enforces the significance of the heroine’s name as a being directly linked to the color and quality of her hair and her capacity to love. This lengthy dialogue about the golden quality of the heroine’s hair anticipates the importance that hair will have later as the protagonists’ romantic sentiments unfold. Soredamors explains that her hair is a double entendre:

Por neent n’ai je pas ce nom Qui Soredamors sui clamee. Amer doi, si doi estre amee, Si le vueil par mon non prover, Se la reson i puis trover. Aucune chose senefie Ce que la premiere partie Et mon non est de color d’or, Car li meilor sont li plus sor. Por ce tieig mon non a meillor Qu’il comence par la color A coi li meldres ors s’acorde, Et la fins Amors me recorde, Car qui par mon droit non m’apele, Touz jorz Amors me renovele, Et l’une moitiez l’autre dore De doreüre clere et sore, Qu’autretant dit Soredamors Comme sororee d’Amors. (ll. 958-976)9

9 “It is not in vain that I bear this name / that I am called Soredamors. / I must love, and be loved, / I want that my name be proof of this, / so that in it I can find truth. / It signifies something, / that in the first part / my name is the color gold, / of which the reds are the best. / Because my name begins with the color / that complements gold the best, / I hold my name as the best, / and its ending reconciles me with Love. / Whoever calls me by my true name, / will forever renew Love in me, / And while the one half gilds the other / a bright and reddish golden, / Soredamors can otherwise be called / gilded with Love.”

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Chrétien de Troyes ensures that the reader comprehend the direct link between his heroine, hair, and love as soon as she is introduced into the narrative. As illustrated in the above passage, the linguistic breakdown of her name and her unambiguous explanation guarantee that a medieval audience understands the author’s wordplay. Sors indicates a reddish golden color, while amors directly links the heroine with the notion of romantic love. Together they create the linguistic portmanteau sordoree d’amors or “gilded with love.” In a detailed analysis of hair in Guillaume de Lorris’ Le Roman de la rose, Alice

Planche specifically uses Soredamors as a model of luminous, golden locks when she explains the color sor : “Il semble définir un blond clair, aussi lunaire que solaire, aux reflets mêlés d’or et d’argent…. Ici sor correspond à un blond intense et lustré” (549).10

In the romance genre, Soredamors, with her lustrous locks, is the archetype of literary heroines. A description of her hair is provided early in the text when Alixandre describes

Love’s arrow, which is in the shape of Soredamors’ body as it pierces his eye: “Li penon sont les treces sores / Que je vi l’autre jor en mer” (ll. 786-787, my emphasis)11. The tresses that captivated him at sea belong to the queen’s handmaiden, and these lines speak to the impression that her hair made upon the knight when he first laid eyes upon her.

This reflection from Alixandre accomplishes a number of narrative objectives: attention is given to the color and quality of the heroine’s hair, foreshadowing its importance, and it makes it clear that hair is a locus of attraction and desire for the Greek hero. This level of exactitude in regard to a character’s hair is unique to Chrétien’s œuvre. Hair takes on a special importance to the romancer in the overall plot of the narrative.

10 It seems to designate a light blonde, equally lunar and solar, a blend of gold and silver highlights… Here sor corresponds to a lustrous and intense blonde.” 11 The fletching is the golden hair / That I saw earlier at sea.

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Eventually, it is the queen who sets her friends’ romance into motion one evening when Alixandre is visiting in her apartments. She takes Alixandre’s arm and notices that one thread on the knight’s chemise shines brighter than the rest, remembering her handmaiden’s hidden hair. Guinevere looks over at her forlorn friend and invites her over to where she and the knight are seated asking,

Damoisele, regardez ça, Et dites, nel nos celez ja, Ou la chemise fu cousue Que cist chevaliers a vestue, Et se vos en entremeïstes Et dou vostre rien i meïstes. (ll. 1595-1600)12

The queen understands the implication of the stitched hair and realizes that her handmaiden and the knight are in love. She takes interest in their plight and will eventually see her two friends united in marriage. Soredamors’ tale of stitching her hair amongst the threads of Alixandre’s chemise is a turning point in the plot. Alixandre is instantly in raptures over the undergarment that previously held no significance aside from being a sign of the queen’s admiration and approval. His sudden infatuation with the chemise, in light of this new information, leads him to become quiet and contemplative, anticipating the moment when he can return to his room to adore and inspect the seams in private and without the possibility of being seen. The romancer describes Alixandre’s vexation and excitement:

Quant ele li conte et devise

12 “My lady, look here, / And tell us, without hiding anything, / Where this garment was sewn / That is covering this knight, / And if you were involved in it / And put something of yours in it.”

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La feture de la chemise, Que a grant peine se retarde, La ou il le chevol esgarde, Qu’il ne l’aoure et encline. Si compeignon et la reïne Qui leenz ierent avec lui Li fesoient molt grant ennui, Car por els laisse qu’il nel touché Ne a ses euz ne a sa bouche Ou molt volontiers le meïst S’il ne cuidast qu’en le veïst. Liez est quant de s’amie a tant, Mes il ne cuide ne n’atent Que ja mes autre prou en ait: Ses desirrers douter le fait. Neporquant, quant en est en aise, Plus de C.M. foiz le baise… (ll. 1605- 1622)13

His immediate reaction is to adore and bow before the chemise as if before one of the most precious treasures in the world. All else ceases to hold consequence to him as he single-mindedly focuses on the joy he feels radiating from his clothing. Alixandre’s delight in the chemise does not end there. Chrétien details the knight’s behavior and pleasure later that evening stating that:

Molt en fait toute nuit grant joie Quant il est couchiez en son lit. A ce ou n’a point de delit Sa delite en vain et soulace. Toute nuit la chemise embrace, Et quant il le chevol remire, De tout le monde cuide estre sire.

13 “When she told him and described / The making of the chemise, / At great pain he kept himself / From examining the hair, / from adoring it and bowing to it. / His companions and the queen / Who were there with him / Vexed him greatly, / For it was on account of them that he abstained from lifting it / To neither his eyes nor his mouth, / Which he would have willingly done / If he did not think that they would see him. / Having so much of his lady gave him joy, / But he could neither believe nor hope / To ever have anything more of her: / His desire made him doubt. / But, as soon as he is at his leisure, / He kisses it over one hundred thousand times…”

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(ll. 1626-1632)14

This passage explicitly demonstrates how a strand of golden hair in medieval literature completely transforms what was a quotidian object into a precious possession to be venerated, adored, and sensually loved. Before, the luxurious garment held little interest to him, and it is clear that he previously never took the time to admire the beautiful stitching. It is as if this single strand of hair elevates the undergarment to an idol or relic, transfixing the possessor. Anthropologist E.R. Leach sees similar phenomena occur in his ethnographic research wherein “it is precisely those types of objects which are ritually separated from the individual in ‘rites of separation’ which are most potent in magical situations” (158). The deliberate removal of Soredamors’ hair and the subsequent sewing of that hair into a garment in Cligés should be read as a ritual separation as described by

Leach wherein the gift of hair transforms an object from ordinary to extraordinary. Leach is not alone in acknowledging a mystifying element of hair. The fact that hair is part of a person, attached and grown from their body, makes it an intimate gift. Theatre historian and performance studies scholar Joseph Roach argues that hair is even more symbolic than clothing because of its unique function: “… hair can exert a magical power even greater than that of accessories and clothes, in part because it functions as both simultaneously” (117). He further explains just why hair can have such a magical effect:

Hair can carry such a volatile, life-defining emotional charge for several reasons. First, because it grows, but not as living flesh does, hair falls between the categories of life and death. Second, because it may be cut and shaped, but in

14 “Once he found himself in his bed, / All night he felt great joy; / He found his delight and joy in an object in which there was none at all, / despite being in vain. / All night he embraced the garment, / And when he examined the hair, / He believed himself to be lord of the whole world.”

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ways that flesh can’t be (or at least not as easily), hair falls between nature and culture (127).

The result of Soredamors’ sewn hair gives Alixandre an emotional charge that causes him to feel as though he is “the lord of the whole world” before ever physically experiencing the ecstasy of erotic love with her. Soredamors’ strand of hair is her body, yet it is also not her body. It is this in-between artifact that will, temporarily, replace the body he desires. For the knight, possession of the undergarment represents possession of the female body and her erotic desire. The symbolism of the gifted chemise is intimate indeed. Firstly, the queen’s gift of the undergarment is personal, somewhat racy, and suggestive. She decided to give him a luxurious garment that would effectively be seen by his eyes only. Soredamors’ inclusion of her own golden hair adds an additional layer of intimacy that trumps Guinevere’s risqué present. She has married a part of her physical self into fabric given freely to the knight symbolizing her readiness to give her whole self to him in marriage.

It is therefore no surprise that the undergarment has a magical mystifying power over Alixandre, causing him to release his desire and emotion onto the chemise.

Medievalist Jane Burns aptly confirms that chemise becomes a “highly fetishized replacement for the lady herself” (64). The shirt metonymically represents the eroticized body of Soredamors. In bestowing his affection onto the cloth, Alixandre is symbolically bestowing sensual kisses onto the body of his love object, which has become interwoven into the garment and fetishized through needlework. The chemise, because of the presence of Soredamors’ cheveu, is therefore sexualized and arouses the desire of the

Greek knight turning the garment into a fetish object. Martin Monestier outlines several common types of hair fetishists. He explains that “the kisser” seeks contact with hair not

22 with his hands but with his mouth (256). Alixandre, by finding pleasure in kissing the beloved chemise “all night long” exemplifies this genre of fetish that experiences sexual release from intimate contact between hair and mouth. Soredamors’ sewn hair sexually arouses the knight leading him to, in the privacy of his tent, masturbate with his chemise as a replacement for the body he desires.

According to Karl Marx, there is a narrative of labor behind every commodity that allows it to become a fetish (123). The labor of sewing, which I have described as a ritualistic ceremony wherein the hair and chemise are imbued with mystical significance, is also creating a narrative: the story of the laborers who put time and care into their creation. Without this narrative, there could be no fetish. The narrative for Alixandre is the entire story of how Soredamors went about making the garment, and her intention of testing the wearer to see if he could discover the hidden treasure, the cheveu that she has woven into the material in disguise as thread of gold. For it is only after listening to

Soredamors tell of what she had done that the garment becomes a type of fetish, idol, or effigy. In this sense, the maiden’s hair is the narrative thread of the entire plot. Her stitched hair, resembling a golden thread, weaves the narrative together and acts as the focal point around which the plot centers and unfolds. The fetishization of this narrative thread as a product of labor on one hand and an object of desire on the other, situates the fetish at the core of the romance in the first half of Cligés.

Soredamors’ decision to sew a part of herself into Alixandre’s undergarment carries significant symbolism and is the only textual evidence that suggests the heroine’s desire. As Soredamors sewed herself into the chemise, she imbued the fabric with deeper, quasi-supernatural meaning that will now be fleshed-out. The stitching becomes a ritualistic ceremony that, in joining hair and fabric, conferred a part of Soredamors’

23 physical self into the material, giving the fabric a flesh-like quality. Jane Burns confirms this notion stating, “This chemise is not a cloth garment to be put on, used, or removed.

In fact, it is impossible to discern where this undergarment stops and the conjoined lovers’ skin begins” (Medieval Fabrications 8). The hair that Soredamors clandestinely weaves into Alixandre’s chemise allows for the lovers’ flesh to be coupled before they are even aware of and capable of acting upon their reciprocal feelings. The heroine’s stitching commences a bonding that will only be complete when physical flesh meets flesh. For the interim, the strand of golden hair transforms fabric into flesh intended to be worn daily against the naked skin of Alixandre. Additionally, we can interpret the sewing as a transfer of hair from one body onto another body, or one flesh onto another flesh, in textile form. By gifting a part of herself via the intimate garment, Soredamors’ act serves as a message that she is offering herself sexually to the knight. The hair in the chemise is symbolic of Soredamors’ naked body. This textile to flesh transmutation explains the fetishizing that later occurs when Alixandre holds the chemise against his skin and kisses it erotically.

Alixandre’s worship of the undergarment likens him to another type of fetishist: the “adoring fetishist.” This category includes any individual who “vénère son objet fétiche, lui voue un véritable culte et s’adresse à lui comme à une divinité… pourvu de pouvoirs mystérieux” (Monestier, 258).15 It is evident through the language employed to describe Alixandre’s reaction to his lady’s hair that there is a religious quality to his devotion. The act of adoration and bowing to the chemise, when considered beside

Monestier’s explanation of the adoring fetishist, parallels the veneration and mystical

15 “Venerates his fetish object, dedicates to it a veritable cult and addresses himself to it like to a divinity… endowed with mysterious powers.”

24 treatment of saints’ relics. This fetishizing is a continuation of the desire Soredamors’ hair stirred at the beginning of the roman when struck by Love’s arrow. The arrow that pierced Alixandre’s eye is described as having the body and physical appearance of

Soredamors. Contemplating the rich golden tone of the maiden’s hair Alixandre exclaims:

Dex! Cum tres precieus avoir! Qui tel tresor porroit avoir, Por qu’avroit en toute sa vie De nule autre richece envie? Endroit de moi jurer porroie Que rien plus ne desirreroie, Que seul les penons et la coche Ne donroie por Antyoche. (ll.789-796)16

According to the text, Alixandre’s eagerness for the chemise likens him to a crazy man or, as I argue, a religious fanatic whose idolatrous adoration is proclaimed to

Soredamors’ hair. Chrétien acknowledges, “Bien fet Amors de sage fol / Quant cil fet joie d’un chevol / Et s’i delite toute nuit” (ll. 1633-1636)17. The author touches upon the boundaries between Love and Reason, themes that will reappear in his later romance, Le

Chevalier de la charrette. Alixandre and Lancelot illustrate the tenuous relationship between Love and Reason and how acting upon romantic devotion can put a knight at odds with honor and chivalry. Alixandre’s fanatical worship of the undergarment, while appearing unreasonable and lacking mesura (restraint), reinforces his love of Soredamors,

16 “My God! How precious it is to have! / For whoever could possess such a treasure, / why for all his life would he / desire any other riches? / As for me, I could swear / That I would not desire anything else, / that for only the notch and the plumes / I would give all of Antioch.” 17 “Love does well to make a wise man a fool / When one such as this is delighted over a hair / Such that he finds pleasure in it all night.”

25 a devotion that has remained steadfast and strong since being struck by Love’s arrow.

The moral the romancer conveys is that Reason obstructs Love. In Cligés, we see

Alixandre struggle with his sentiments in secret, stalling the joyous union of two lovers.

Reason causes Alixandre to adore the garment in secrecy, preventing him from openly revealing his affection and desire for the queen’s friend.

Returning to the darz that struck Alixandre in the eye, there is an analogy between the shaft, fletching, and point assuming Soredamors’ form and religious transfiguration.

The arrow penetrates Alixandre’s eye, li miroers au cuer (the mirror of the heart), making him fall in love with the handmaiden. Soredamors, in the form of the arrow, enters

Alixandre’s body becoming a part of his flesh, in a manner suggestive of how the Holy

Spirit is believed to dwell in the body of Christ’s disciples. In the Book of John Christ is quoted:

And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another advocate to help you and be with you forever—the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you know him, for he lives with you and will be in you. (John 14: 16-17).

The hero is entirely possessed by his love for Soredamors the way a devoted follower of

Christ is possessed by their spirituality and loyalty to God. The scripture explains that while those who do not have faith cannot experience the Holy Spirit, those who follow

Christ will have the Holy Spirt to comfort them and live within them after his ascension.

In Cligés, the religious allusion situates Soredamors’ hair in the chemise and her entering

Alixandre’s body through Love’s arrow as her spirit or essence that is sent to comfort the hero during her absence (the absence of her physical body against his body). The religious parallels between Alixandre’s fixation with the tunic and medieval Christianity

26 are many. In fact, Alixandre’s devotion to the vestment verges on cult-like worship. Not only is this object endowed with fetishistic desire, it is also treated as a holy, precious relic. Caroline Walker Bynum explains:

The cult of relics is well known. From the early Middle Ages down into modern times, pieces of dead holy people have been revered as the loci of the sacred. Medieval relics were jealously guarded, feared, fought for and sometimes even stolen from fellow Christians. According to at least some learned and some popular opinion, relics were far more than mere aids to pious memory; they were the saints themselves, living already with God in the incorrupt and glorified bodies more ordinary mortals would attain only at the end of time. The cult of relics was only one of the ways in which late medieval piety emphasized body as the locus of the sacred (163).

Thus, in the same fashion that a saint’s relic was perceived and treated as the actual saint him/herself, Alixandre treats the golden hair in his chemise as if it were Soredamors herself. The body, or in this case body part (hair), is read by Alixandre as being sacred just as relics of saints’ body parts, popping up throughout Christendom, were treated as holy artifacts. These relics were said to produce miracles just as some living saints were claimed to be able to perform miraculous phenomena. In fact, Alixandre’s undergarment can be read as a counterpart to the religious hair shirt, a medieval vestment worn by many saints and holy figures to express penance and devotion to God. In Materials, Methods, and Masterpieces of Medieval Art, Janetta Rebold Benton describes the hair shirt as “the garment closest to the skin… which was lined with hair cloth made of coarse, bristly horsehair. A hair shirt is specifically intended to torment the wearer and was a fashion among repentant medieval sinners” (253). The vestment commonly worn by saints and members of religious orders is primarily meant to be worn as an instrument for self- mortification and for the absolution of sins; the texture of this garment against the skin was abrasive, causing unbearable irritation and wounding the flesh little by little. This

27 link to pain and penance is exhibited in a less extreme manner in Cligés, where the pain and suffering of the hero is that of longing for a presumably unrequited love. Comparison can be made with the devotion expressed through wearing a hair shirt and the fervor demonstrated by Alixandre. Chrétien de Troyes’ stitched chemise becomes itself another version of a medieval hair shirt, and his hero, Alixandre an example of a devout worshipper. Wearing this romantic twist on the hair shirt brings Alixandre closer to his spirituality, that is, his adoration for Soredamors, the same way that the hair shirt brings a pious follower closer to God. The proximity of the garment, worn close to his body by day, and carefully caressed throughout the night results in a constant reminder, just like with a hair shirt to keep God on the mind and to never waver in devotion. Alixandre, in turn, is constantly reminded of his lady and to stay truthful and devoted to her. With the power of pure love flowing through his body, and reinforced through his fetishized chemise, the garment is further imbued with meaning and significance.

In medieval hagiography, miraculous hair shirts are not unheard of. Like

Alixandre’s stitched vestment in Cligés, Saint Radegonde’s cilice was revered as a relic for its extraordinary abilities. According to a biography of the saint written by Émile

Briand “[c]ouverte d’un cilice qui composait son linge de corps, elle passait les nuits à chanter les louanges de Dieu” (67).18 Her devotion to God was demonstrated by constantly wearing the hair shirt and by “spending her nights singing praises to God” much in the way that Alixandre spends his night occupied by a more erotic type of devotion to his beloved. The legend of Saint Radegonde’s cilice states that many miracles were performed by the garment, even restoring life to a deceased child:

18 “covered in a hair shirt that served as her slip, she passed the nights singing praises to God.”

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Un enfant étant de nouveau mort en naissant, les parents tout en larmes emportent le petit cadavre et l’étendent sur le cilice de la Bienheureuse. Aussitôt qu’il eut touché ce vêtement de salut, l’enfant revient à la vie et la pâleur de la mort fait place au teint vermeil de la santé” (Briand, 171-172).19

The importance of hair purveying magical properties has been mentioned above. The chemise sewn by Soredamors gains its phenomenal power in part from her labor, but the medieval hair shirt gets its miraculous potential simply from being constantly worn, in proximity to a saintly body. If Radegonde’s cilice became a potent relic because of her continuous wear combined with her religious faith, then we expect Alixandre’s chemise to likewise be elevated to the status of a relic. More simply, Alixandre, like Saint

Radegonde, infuses the chemise-hair shirt with even more power simply through the devotion he displays in wearing the shirt both day and night. Soredamors’ labor and

Alixandre’s faithfulness elevate the undergarment to an even higher level of holiness, instilling more meaning and influence onto the fabric. Her stitching is a fetish of labor and the knight acts upon a fetishistic desire, expanding the magical hair to transcend love and become something supernatural and spiritual, entangling notions of religious and erotic desire.

Alixandre takes pleasure from the remnant (relic) of Soredamors (her strand of golden hair) synecdochially, just as he would find joy and pleasure in the presence of her physical body. The ultimate effect of possessing the hair imbued with potent sexual symbolism is that the hero gains power through possession and control of his tunic. The

19 “Tearful parents of a child, recently died during birth, brought the small body and laid it upon the hair shirt of the Good Woman. As soon as he had touched the holy garment, the infant came back to life and the paleness of death was replaced by the rosy complexion of health.”

29 garment as a means of empowerment for the hero is key in the narrative. Alixandre profits from Soredamors’ labor of love to satisfy his sexual urges while the crafty handmaiden has no comparable outlet to express her desire. When Alixandre unleashes his erotic desire for Soredamors onto the shirt, he feels as though he is the master of the world. Meanwhile, Soredamors’ is still demurely awaiting the knight to notice her golden hair in his chemise and then take action to acknowledge and reciprocate her sentiments.

Soredamors’ clear intention was that the hair serve as a test so that only someone who loved and desired her fiercely would be able to discern her hair amongst the thread of gold. Alixandre failed this test miserably yet goes on to obtain the object of his desire.

This illustrates that in Cligés, female desire is marginal. While Soredamors’ sewing is the fil 29l lac2929d that acts as a catalyst to the love story, it is Alixandre’s fetish desire and his narrative that drives the plot. The feeling of empowerment that the knight gains from the tunic is counter to the rules of courtly love, subverting his position of inferiority to

Arthur as well as his position as vassal in respect to Soredamors.

According to the tradition of courtly love, the male pledges himself as a vassal to a lady (the object of his desire), and vows to serve her will. An example of this promise can be found in another of Chrétien de Troyes’ Arthurian Romances, Le chevalier au lion. In this tale, after fatally wounding a woman’s husband in battle, the hasty knight

Yvain proposes marriage to his widow, Laudine, vowing to protect her and her lands. He reveals to her how much he loves her:

Mon cuer n’onques alleurs nel truiz; En tel qu’ailleurs pensser ne puis; En tel que tout a vous m’otroy; En tel que plus vos aim que moy; En tel que pour vous, a delivre, Veil, c’il vous plaist, mourir ou vivre

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(ll. 2028-34).20

Laudine, in an effort to gain consent for the marriage to take place, explains to her barrons that “M’a molt prïe et mout requise. / En m’onnor et en mon servise / Se veut metre, et je l’en merci” (ll.2117-19).21 Yvain will later receive a ring from Laudine, symbolizing their vows to each other and mirroring the ceremony that binds a knight to his lord. It is noteworthy that Laudine assumes the role of lord while Yvain takes the position of vassal as was the standard for male/female romantic relationships in Courtly

Love literature. The male must submit to his lady and swear fealty to her just as a knight pledges his loyalty to his sovereign or liege lord.

Contrary to the traditional scenario, in Cligés, Alixandre does not express his subservience to Soredamors in this erotic, quasi-religious scene. Instead, it is he himself who gains prestige from expressing his desire through his interaction with the chemise.

The text allows for no details about Soredamors feeling empowered by her love.

Alixandre continues to guard his love a secret from Soredamors, instead of risking rejection by voicing his feelings to her directly. So long as he has the chemise he is able to self-satisfy his longing. Soredamors, on the other hand, has no outlet to express her desire other than her failed test of sewing. Her love remains a secret upon which she cannot act. Taking this into consideration, the romantic love in Cligés elevates the devoted and amorous knight emotionally, while allowing for no equal change in status for the love-struck heroine. Soredamors remains unfulfilled, longing for her love to be

20 “My heart cannot be separated from you; / That it cannot leave you; / That you are the sole object of my thoughts; / That I am completely yours; / That I love you more than myself; / that I consent, according to your will, to die or to live for you.” 21 “He has much sought after and pursued me. / Under my care and in my service, / He wants to put himself, and I thank him for it.”

31 reciprocated. After playing her cards and using her feminine skills to express her desire, she is left with a passive role, waiting for someone to notice her intricately camouflaged hair. Even after revealing her sewn hair before Alixandre and Guinevere, the knight takes no action to openly display his desire. Instead he waits until he is alone to turn his garment into a tool of pleasure. The heroine expressed herself, like so many other females in literature, through the feminine art of needlework. The unfortunate result is that primarily, the object of her affection was ignorant of the language she was using to express herself, and secondly, once the queen translated for him, instead of responding to

Soredamors he decided to keep his sentiments to himself. The undergarment was

Soredamors’ only means to transmit her feelings, whereas Alixandre had the ability to verbally make his admiration known directly to her. Instead, the heroine’s expression of desire becomes a fetishized object to fulfil the desire of the male protagonist. While

Alixandre’s courtship was more of a blundering example of courtly love, the knight is nonetheless united with his lady and successful in obtaining his object of desire.

Golden locks of hair crowning the head of a beautiful maiden are widely known in medieval literature to inspire profound amorous devotion from many a courtly gentlemen, but what we see in Chrétien de Troyes’ twelfth-century romance, Cligés, is that hair goes beyond being just the impetus for love: Soredamors’ flaxen coif is metaphorically represented in the fletching of Love’s arrow, and a single strand sewn in her lover’s chemise becomes a test of recognition and revelation as well as a fetishized synecdoche for the lady herself. The fact that hair physically adorns the chemise of the love-sick hero, Alixandre, fashions an ironic twist on the monastic hair shirt and links

Alixandre’s love to a quasi-religious devotion; a devotion made all the more intense and unstoppable because of Love’s complicity in the affair. Chrétien’s attention to the

32 knight’s desire and his religious parallels illustrate the author’s tendency to exploit female characters for male fulfillment and empowerment. Cligés, believed to be written prior to Chrétien’s tales of Lancelot and Perceval, shows hints of the author’s theme of courtly love that become more fully developed in Le Chevalier de la charrette and Le

Chevalier au lion, as cited previously. What will become evident through his later works is how courtly love wields notions of love and romance as a pretense for male-centered desire for erotic dominance, power, and social prestige.

Feminization to Domination in Le Chevalier de la charrette

In Le Chevalier de la Charrette, Chrétien de Troye’s most celebrated knight,

Lancelot, expresses his erotic desire in a beguiling scene where hair fetish parallels religious ecstasy. When the questing knight find strands of his beloved’s tresses in an ornate comb, he is so enthralled by the hair that he nearly loses consciousness. The illustrious knight idolizes the abandoned tresses as if they were the costliest treasure in the world. I argue that in this scene, female hair again appears in romance literature as a fetishized locus of male desire, which indicates the prominence of male pleasure and satisfaction in this medieval genre. In Chrétien de Troye’s third romance the Knight of the Cart has an orgasmic encounter with Queen Guinevere’s left-behind tresses.22 This sexually suggestive scene corresponds with saintly accounts of religious ecstasy that toe the line between carnal and devout, once again blurring the boundaries between the erotic and the holy. The Lancelot narrative is abundant in erotic imagery. The fact that these

22 Le Chevalier de la charrette is either the third or fourth known work of Chrétien de Troyes, believed to have been written simultaneously with Le Chevalier au lion (mentioned above).

33 details often situate the hero in a feminized, un-masculine position, subservient to his lady has not gone unnoticed.23 Despite the seeming emasculation of the romantic hero,

Lancelot’s submission to Love’s will and his daring pursuit of his beloved act as a disguise to Lancelot’s desire for prestige and social climbing. Beneath the layers of amorous devotion, his pursuit of Guinevere is a quest for status and power. This ultimately ends in Lancelot displaying his dominance over Arthur through turning him into a cuckold.

At the onset of Le Chevalier de la charrette, Queen Guinevere is given as a willing captive to the antagonist Méléagant with the promise that she will be returned unharmed with numerous captives if one of Arthur’s knights is able to defeat him in combat. Lancelot, in love with the queen and unable to stand by while she is in danger, bravely takes off in pursuit of her with another of Arthur’s celebrated knights, Gauvain.

In exchange for details of the queen’s location, Lancelot agrees to ride in a cart driven by a dwarf. Riding in the cart not only gives him much-needed information about her captor’s route, but also allows him to head the right direction much more quickly.

Gauvain however, aware of how shameful such an act is, rejects the dwarf’s offer and continues on horseback despite the advantages he would gain from the dwarf’s knowledge. The text explains why Gauvain would deny an offer that seems so beneficial:

De ce servoit charrete lores Don li pilori servent ores… Qui a forfet estoit repris, S’estoit sor la charrete mis Et menez par totes les rues, S’avoit totes enors perdues Ne puis n’estoit a cort oïz Ne enorez ne conjoïnez.

23 See specifically Jeffery Jerome Cohen, “Masoch/ Lancelotism.” New Literary History. 28.2 (1997): 231-260.

34

Por ce qu’a cel tens furent tex Les charretes et si cruex, Fu premiers dit: Quant tu verras Charrete et tu l’ancontreras, Fei croiz sor toi et te sovaigne De deu, que max ne t’an avaigne. (ll. 321-22… 333-44)24

By riding in the dwarf’s cart, Lancelot takes on the stigma of all manner of criminals and lowlifes who are forced to climb aboard: sinners, criminals, thieves, assassins, and traitors. For the medieval audience, Lancelot’s consent to ride in the cart is the epitome of shameful. He carries the disgraceful and ridiculous moniker, “the Knight of the Cart,” throughout the narrative. Chrétien’s hero trades his identity as a knight of Arthur’s court for that of a common criminal, for indeed, he will not be recognized by his true identity until Guinevere reveals his name to him and to the audience, about halfway through the tale. Lancelot is effectively unknown to the world, and even to himself, existing only as the shamed Knight of the Cart.

Lancelot and Gauvain take separate paths to reach the captive queen. The former takes the more perilous and quicker route, soon finding himself battling a knight at a ford to free a woman held prisoner. The woman, once liberated, makes the Knight of the Cart a strange, provocative offer:

Puis li dit: “Sire, mes ostex Vos est ci pres apareilliez Se del prandre estes conseilliez, Mes par itel herbergeroiz Que avoec moi vous coucheroiz, Enisi le vos offre et presant.”

24 “Once carts served / As stocks now serve… / Any criminal was taken, / Placed in the cart, / And led throughout the streets. / He lost all honor / And could no longer be heard at court / Or honored or praised there. / Because carts were / At the time, so crude, / It was originally said: ‘When you see / And encounter the cart, / Make the sign of the cross and remember / God, so that evil does not come to you.’”

35

(ll. 940-45)25

Lancelot initially agrees to her offer but finds himself unable to perform his end of the deal because “del cuer ne li muet:” he desires to remain faithful to Queen Guinevere (l.

1224). 26 The demoiselle leaves him to sleep in peace, returning to her room where she

“se couche tote nue” (l.1268).27 The following morning, the young woman, impressed by the Knight of the Cart’s honorable behavior, agrees to act as guide for the next leg of his journey. She leads him through woods where they discover an opulent, gold-incrusted ivory comb on the edge of a fountain. Upon inspection, the knight finds that “Es danz del peigne ot des chevos / Celi qui s’en estoit paigniee / Remés bien demie poigniee”

(ll.1354-56).28 The knowing demoiselle covets the comb and reveals to whom it belongs:

“Trop a certes m’an apelez,” Fet ele, “si le vos dirai, De rien nule n’an mantirai. Cist peignes, se j’onques soi rien, Fu la reïne, jel sai bien, Et d’une chose me creez Que les chevox que vous veez Si biax, si clers et si luisanz, Qui sont remés antre les danz, Que del chief la reïne furent, Onques en autre pré ne crurent.” (ll.1408-18)29

25 “Then she said: ‘Sir, my home / Is close by and ready for you / If you are decided to stay there, / You would be accommodated / If you sleep with me. / Thus I offer and gift my bed to you.’” 26 “the heart does not stir him” 27 “Goes to bed completely naked” 28 “Almost a handful/ Of the hair of she who had brush with it/ Remained on the comb.” 29 “‘As certainly as you have asked,’ / She said, ‘I will tell you, / Without lying about anything. / The comb, if I’ve ever known anything, / Was the queen’s. I know it, / and of one thing believe me: / The hair which you see / So handsome, so bright and so luminescent, / held there between the teeth, / was from the queen’s head, / No other prairie could grow so flaxen.’”

36

Once Lancelot learns that the hair left on the comb belongs to his beloved Guinevere, the wife of King Arthur, he is struck with emotion. Chrétien writes:

“Quant cil l’ot, n’a tant de vertu Que tot nel coveigne ploier, Par force l’estut apoier Devant l’arçon de la sele… Qu’ele cuida que il cheïst… Qu’ele cuida qu’il fust pasmez… Qu’il avoit au cuer tel dolor Que la parole et la color Ot une grant piece perdue.” (ll. 1424-27, 30, 32, 36-37).30

Lancelot, upon regaining his composure, hands the luxurious comb off as a gift to the young maiden, but he takes care to remove Guinevere’s hair “Si soef que nul n’an deront,” keeping it as a treasure for himself (l. 1459).31 The romancer states that, “An son saing pres del cuer les fiche, / Entre sa chemise et sa char”(ll. 1460-69).32 After tucking away this precious clue of the queen’s presence, the Knight of the Cart once again sets off and soon stumbles upon another young maiden in need of his services. In exchange for the head of a knight who she claims has wronged her, she offers to come to Lancelot’s aid in the future. The knight’s heroism pays off and finally he reaches the castle where

Guinevere is held captive. He is wounded in battle while facing off with Méléagant. Their fight is a deadlock and both men concede to temporarily end their attack. Lancelot is offered protection while his wounds heal. It is during their fight that the audience first

30 “When he heard this, he lost all physical strength. / He had to fold over, / by force he had to support himself/ Against the pommel of his saddle… / She thought that he would fall… / She thought that he had fainted… / He had so much pain in his heart / that his speech and color / were lost for a good moment.” 31 “Delicately, so that not a single strand breaks.” 32 “He fastens [the hairs] to his breast, against his heart, / Between his undergarment and flesh.”

37 learns the Knight of the Cart’s true name. The queen reveals his name to a young companion: “Lanceloz del Lac a a non / Li chevaliers, mien esciant” (ll. 3660-61).33 The young woman calls out to the knight during battle, beseeching him, “Lancelot, / Trestorne toi et si esgarde / Qui est qui de toi se prant garde!” (ll. 3666-68).34 Seeing his beloved queen watching him from a tower lends him the strength to continue to battle his enemy despite his fatigue. Guinevere, at the request of Bademagu, calls for the fight to end without a victor. Lancelot, ever the obedient lover, obeys her request to put down his arms. An agreement is made that the queen will return home at present, but the two knights must meet in battle again in one year at Arthur’s court. If Méléagant wins,

Guinevere is obliged to return with him. Méléagant, ever the sly villain, has tricks up his sleeve to detain, imprison, and discourage Lancelot from achieving victory. Fortunately, the hero is helped along his path and arrives in time for the anticipated rematch. Lancelot successfully brings an end to the evil Méléagant.

Guinevere’s mèche de cheveux provides another example of hair fetish in the works of Chrétien de Troyes. Once again, it is clear that hair holds special erotic significance for the medieval author. As in Cligés, hair as a material object in Le

Chevalier de la Charrette serves as a tool for male erotic pleasure. Contrary to the

Soredamors’ stitched message as the expression of female desire for marriage,

Guinevere’s hair, cleverly left entangled in an ornate comb, is a cry for rescue to her beloved knight, Lancelot and a clue that he is on the right path to finding her. While providing evidence of Lancelot’s strong passion for the adulterous queen and her desirable social status, the scene at the fountain stands out as one of several scenes in the

33 “Lancelot of the Lake is the name / Of the knight, as far as I know.” 34 “Lancelot, / Turn around and look / At who is watching you!”

38 narrative that feminize the hero by placing him in a shameful, servile position. This difference between these two romances demonstrates how the author manipulates hair to expose female sexuality in medieval literature. The fact that he chooses to situate hair as the locus of masculine desire in both narratives speaks to the power of women’s hair as a symbol of sensuality and lust. Lancelot’s feminization throughout the roman illustrates the quintessential qualities of the subservient courtly lover as the model of male virility, yet the complexities of his relationship with Guinevere show that despite appearing to place women in a position of dominance, courtly love remains male-centered.

By appearing feminine and following the code of “submission” to his lady,

Lancelot is vying for power and reinforcing male dominance over women. This romantic triangle of king-queen-knight is an ideal example of how women in medieval romance are exploited for male ambition and prestige. Lancelot’s gentle treatment of Guinevere’s hair and its arousing effect testifies to its status as an emblem of feminine beauty and sexuality. Her desire to be rescued by him bolsters the ego-centrism of his end-goal.

Lancelot’s reaction to the hair, his arousal, and the resulting embarrassment and ejaculation in front of the young woman at the fountain illustrate how Lancelot is feminized in this scene. Throughout the romance the hero is portrayed through juxtaposed images of virility and femininity to show that submission and humiliation can be evidence of prowess when all is said and done. Matilda Tomaryn Bruckner asks the important question of whether Lancelot is “humiliated or elevated... empowered or emasculated” by his love of Guinevere (143). It is clear that he is both emasculated and empowered. The feminization and subservience of Lancelot will permit him to eventually gain status and power by possessing the queen sexually and metaphorically through

39 ownership of her hair and the penetration of her body. Once he possesses his queen and cuckold’s his lord, he gains superiority over that male.

The juxtaposed images of masculinity and femininity are represented through the allegorical figures of Reason and Love. Reason represents that which is masculine and knightly, while Love exemplifies the feminine and romantic. Masculine desire is expressed in the narrative by virility, chivalry, and all that is deemed rational. Female desire, on the other hand, puts romantic love before the etiquette of knightly decorum.

Reason and Love each place conflicting requirements on the knight that force him to choose between his lord and lady as sovereign. Chrétien de Troyes narrates the conflict between Love and Reason as disparate courses of action in the hero’s quest to save the queen. The result of this discord is that at times Love is a feminizing force that causes

Lancelot to behave counter to knightly, masculine norms, while obeying Reason brings about his beloved’s displeasure and chastisement.

In his article, “Masoch/Lancelotism,” Jeffery Jerome Cohen discusses the gendered terms “masculine” and “feminine” as binary opposites, one defined as being which the other is not (234). He also poignantly highlights that Gauvain’s character in Le

Chevalier de la charrette acts as a foil to Lancelot at the onset of the rescue when the former refuses to mount the ignoble cart. What is further noteworthy in Cohen’s research is his understanding of Gauvain and Lancelot in relation to the allegorical figures of

Reason and Love (242). He argues that the audience interprets Lancelot’s decision as shameful through the lens of reason, chivalry, and honor. Thus, the audience fails to understand that Lancelot’s real disgrace is not getting into the cart, as the world sees it, but in his hesitation, as Guinevere understands it (242). Guinevere’s perspective is that of

Love’s, wherein Lancelot’s dishonor is not riding in a cart, but instead his momentary

40 pause to accept the dwarf’s proposal. His reluctance, however brief, showed his lack of submission to Love’s demands and his loyalty to Reason. Chrétien foreshadows that

Lancelot’s brief lapse in judgement will bring him misery later on:

Tantost a sa voie tenue Li chevaliers que il n’i monte. Mar le fist et mar en ot honte Que maintenant sus ne sailli, Qu’il s’an tendra por mal bailli. Mes Reisons, qui d’Amors se part, Li dit que del monter se gart, Si le chastie et si l’anseigne Que rien ne face ne anpreigne Dom il ait honte ne reproche. (ll. 360-69)35

This shows that Chrétien’s Reason is in opposition to any behavior that would bring shame to the knight. In other words, Reason opposes unchivalrous conduct and demands courtly behavior above all else. It is against a knight’s nature and expected behavior to act counter to the standards of chivalry. We see this in Lancelot’s hesitancy and

Gavuain’s refusal to abase himself by entering in the cart. Where Lancelot eventually accepts the shame associated with the cart in order to receive key information about

Guinevere’s captor, Gauvain puts his responsibility and duty as a knight first.

Quant mes sire Gauvains l’oï, Si le tint a molt grant folie Et dit qu’il n’i montera mie, Car trop vilain change feroit Se charrete a cheval chanjoit.

35 “As soon as he takes his route / The knight hesitates to climb up. / Misfortune it was, and a misfortune that he felt ashamed / That immediately he did not jump up / Because he will be seen as ill behaved. / But Reason, who opposes Love, / Tells him not to mount. / It instructs him and teaches him / To never do or take on anything / That would cause him shame and reproach.”

41

(ll. 388-92)36

Gauvain’s resolve to uphold honor directly opposes Lancelot’s decision to suffer the shame and ride in the cart. Lancelot’s debasement is eventually rendered pointless when the dwarf reveals his secret details to both of the knights. Gauvain, who did not surrender to Love, because he is not romantically entangled with the queen, followed the code of chivalry and was rewarded with the information he needed to carry out his mission. The text reveals that Reason and Love are opposing forces. This understanding implies that reason is a hinderance to romantic love and therefore must be cast aside in order to achieve passion, adoration, and affection. Love requires that the knight to submit to his lady in the way that Reason and chivalry command submission to the seigneur.

Lancelot’s hesitation to submit to Love at the beginning of the narrative will jeopardize his standing with his lady later on when she reproaches him for his moment of doubt.

I propose that Cohen’s explanation of the categories of masculine and feminine as binary opposites in the Middle Ages, together with the notion that the medieval knight represents the masculine ideal of the time, tie in with Chrétien’s allegorical figures

Reason and Love as reflections of medieval social norms of masculine and feminine.

That which is masculine and chivalrous represents the path of Reason for the male character, while Love glorifies the feminine and romantic and leads to the feminization of the protagonist. The feminization of the hero manifests in the text through the repetition of feminizing elements of plot. For example, Lancelot is feminized in the fountain scene with Guinevere’s comb, as well as in the post-copulatory scene when Lancelot bleeds on

36 “When Sir Gauvain heard it, / He thought that it was great foolishness / And said that he wouldn’t get in / Because it would be too ignoble / To exchange a horse for a cart.”

42 bed sheets like a newly-wedded virgin, and at the end of the romance by the phallic symbolism of Lancelot locked in a tower by Méléagant.

According to Gaston de Paris, Le Chevalier de la charrette is the epitome of amour courtois, wherein the knight submits willingly to his lady, treating her as his sovereign (Philippa Kim 593).37 This would indicate that the romancer, Chrétien de

Troyes, situates the rules of courtly love above the rules of chivalry, placing the female character in a position of dominance in the text. Despite surface appearances, whatever control or power Guinevere appears to have in the text is meager at best. Jane Burns notes that Paris’ definition is male-centered in that it is framed around the male perspective of the “lover in the service of and at the mercy of a haughty and capricious lady” (“Courtly Love” 28). This situates the male character as the subject and performer of courtly love while the female remains aloof and distant, a spectator rather than a participant to the action the plot. I agree with Mazo Karras’ assessment of courtly love poetry as a false reflection of female empowerment. She says:

Furthermore, although this poetry seems to place women in a position of power— the man is begging the woman for her love—it is putting her on a pedestal and objectifying her rather than according her any real power in the relationship. As the ‘court of love’ cases show, the genre considered it the woman’s obligation to grant her favors if the man was worthy… love was a woman’s obligation (Sexuality in Medieval Europe, 118-119).

Mazo Karras indicates that hidden behind lovely words and romance is an obligation that requires women to respond favorably to male advances. Instead of lending women a position of control, because the woman’s sole option is to accept the handsome knight as

37 Gaston de Paris is a French literary scholar credited with coining the term courtly love (amour courtois) in 1883 to describe the passionate love between Lancelot and Guinevere in Chrétien’s romance (Burns, “Courtly Love” 28).

43 her lover and/or husband, she sees medieval romance and courtly love as mere illusions of female empowerment. To refuse his advances would be ungracious and unfeminine.

Christiane Marchello-Nizia also questions whether amour courtois is advantageous to women. Her analysis asserts that courtly love serves male interest for power and she agrees that what attracts men like Lancelot and Tristan to Guinevere and Iseut is the fact that they are queens, possessing the highest status as wives to the most powerful men of the land (“Amour Courtois,” 979). Women in courtly love literature, like the average noble women in medieval society, are still treated as possessions to be shifted and exchanged from one male to another with only the semblance of choice. Feminist scholar

Luce Irigaray, in her assertive essay, “Women on the Market,” demonstrates how women in patriarchal societies are commodities to be exchanged among men. Despite woman as being the product of the labor of another woman through pregnancy and birth, she argues that women are treated as trinkets of male ownership to be passed from man to man and are to remain “objects of transaction among men alone” (171). This traffic of women contributes to the advancement of male social position and hegemony and, as Irigary underlines, serves to mirror the value and status of men (177). In courtly love literature, it is the male protagonist, often a valiant knight, who is ennobled through the exchange of women. Women in medieval society as well as in literature can therefore be said to reflect the social status of the men of their family whether father, brother, or husband.

Courtly knights falling in love with glorious queens and beautiful maidens in medieval romance is in actuality a reflection of male desire for rank and social prestige in male- centered social hierarchy. Women are symbolic tools used to form and solidify male bonds.

44

In fact, Cohen’s ultimate argument harmonizes with that of Marchello-Nizia. He affirms that Lancelot’s infatuation with Guinevere is nothing more than a manifestation of his desire for power and the social elevation associated with her as a reflection of

Arthur’s status (251). Cohen states:

In a real way Guenevere’s body is not her own; she is a “social marker” rather than a “personality…” By making love to Guenevere, Lancelot is, paradoxically, embracing Arthur. He loves the idea of kingship so much that he places himself, by his very abjection before the Idea, in the body of the king (250-51).

This notion illustrates how Lancelot’s character gains social status through his relationship with the queen, indicating that it is not her that attracts him, but her rank and proximity to the highest seat of power in the land. Cohen’s reading would mean that

Lancelot’s pursuit of Guinevere and his single-minded adoration of her carries the deeper symbolism of his obsession with power and his desire to get as close as possible to King

Arthur so as to elevate his own status while at the same time solidifying his bond with

Arthur by returning his stolen property safely. Not only does Lancelot illustrate that he can protect Guinevere better than the king, situating him as a romantic rival, he also illustrates to the entire court, who is unaware of his romantic entanglement, that he is a loyal subject to his king by fulfilling his duty. In her article, “The Traffic in Women:

Notes on the ‘Political Economy’ of Sex,” anthropologist Gayle Rubin argues that women are conduits to male homosocial relationships. According to her analysis of kinship and what she calls the “sex/gender system,” the exchange of women from one man to another forms a power bond between those men, allying them to each other. She says, “…it is the partners, not the presents, upon whom reciprocal exchange confers its quasi-mystical power of social linkage” (174). For her, social ties are potent. This is

45 especially true of medieval feudalism where the entire structure of society depended upon bonds between lords and their vassals as well as the bonds between powerful families.

Feudal ties permitted great families to gain rank and prestige. In light of Rubin’s theory, women generally served as the invisible glue that cemented male ties. Rubin clarifies that as long as men are the active partners exchanging goods (women), they hold the power

(174).

This is evident as well in courtly love literature through the ties between kings like Arthur and Marc with their knights Lancelot and Tristan. On the exterior, these knights are romantic rivals with their kings, desiring the beautiful women married to these powerful men. At the same time, they have a duty to be loyal and subservient to their kings. Below the surface of the text, as a reflection of the king’s power and status, love and devotion to these literary queens represent a thirst to usurp the king’s position and steal his power. Irigaray states, “Commodities, women, are a mirror of value of and for man” (177). While it may seem that the knights are literary rivals in love, they are rather adversaries for positions of power and prestige and the heroines in these medieval romances are nothing more than status markers of their powerful husbands.

In Le Chevalier de la charrette, this dualism between love and status manifests through the hero’s struggle between Reason and Love, the latter often leading him into embarrassing and compromising situations. Reason represents social hierarchy and maintaining order through the code of chivalry and vassalage. Love, previously described as the feminizing force in the roman, also signifies the knight’s quest for prestige and empowerment. For Lancelot, pursuit of Guinevere and subsequent feminization go hand in hand with a rapprochement to King Arthur. The scene described above in which

Lancelot discovers Guinevere’s hair and comb illustrates how Lancelot is simultaneously

46 feminized and empowered from her erotic tresses. The evidence left by the queen attests to Lancelot’s advancement in his quest to find his captive love. The effect of her hair leaves him utterly transfixed by the small fragment of her body. In the same vein as

Alixandre, possessing the slightest amount of golden hair from his queen’s head is enough to transport Lancelot and sexually arouse him. The scene in the text where the knight loses strength and color, almost fainting in his saddle represents Lancelot’s arousal, rubbing his erection against the pommel of his saddle after becoming excited by

Guinevere’s hair. He is so lost in the fantasy of possessing his love object sexually, he nearly collapses during his orgasmic climax. The demoiselle guiding him through the forest rushes to him, afraid that he will fall from his saddle, not believing the sight before her.

Quant il la vit, s’en ot vergoigne, Si li a dit: “Por quel besoigne Venistes vos ci devant moi?” Ne cuidez pas que le porcoi La dameisele l’an conoisse, Qu’il an eüst honte et angoisse, Et si li grevast et neüst S’ele le voir le coneüst. (ll. 1443-50)38

This is the same young woman who had previously offered herself to Lancelot and was rejected. Her shock at seeing him once again behaving counter to social expectations is evident in her words and actions. For here is this contradictory knight, courageous and talented in combat, yet shrouded in shame for his unexpected behavior, still identified

38 “When he saw her, he felt shame / And said to her: ‘For what reason / Do you come here before me?” / Do not think that the lady / revealed to him the truth. / For it would have caused him shame and anguish / And grieved and burdened him / If she told him the truth.”

47 only as the Knight of the Cart. According to Joyce E. Salisbury in The Handbook on

Medieval Sexuality, masturbation was seen as feminine because it was “the servile acceptance of pleasure rather than an active taking of it” (86). Lancelot’s arousal at the fountain represent a moment of shame where his uncontrolled sexual urges mark him as highly un-masculine. In line with Cohen’s observation of the clear distinction between what is masculine and feminine in the Middle Ages, Ruth Mazo Karras exposes the important link between medieval notions of gender and sexuality:

Gender played a fundamental organizing role in medieval sexuality… Gender also played an important role in the meanings placed on homosexual behavior: a man who took a passive role or a woman who played an active role was not transgressing the boundaries of sexual identities as much as the boundaries of gender (Sexuality in Medieval Europe, 32).

It is not so much Lancelot’s desire or his sexuality that creates gender trouble in Le

Chevalier de la charrette. Rather, it is his recurrent behavioral transgressions that feminize him. One cannot help but wonder at the purpose of Lancelot’s emasculation in

Chrétien’s romance. Over and over the author links his hero to feminine action. Once

Lancelot has found Guinevere and battled Méléagant, he sneaks into the queen’s chamber at night, wounding his fingers on the bars on her window during his break-in. At first, all seems normal: a masculine hero who stops at nothing to reach his lady and seek his pleasure in her bed. The queen welcomed him with open arms and led him to her bed.

The text openly describes Lancelot’s pleasure and the couple’s immense happiness together.

Et del beisier et del santir Que il lor avint sanz mantir Une joie et une mervoille Tel c’onques ancor sa paroille

48

Ne fu oïe ne seüe… Molt ot de joie de de deduit Lanceloz tote cele nuit. (ll. 4675-79... 85-86)39

It is not until after the couple’s night of bliss that Lancelot is once again feminized through the imagery of bloodied bed sheets. Blinded by love and desire, Lancelot had forgotten his cut fingers, the pain negligible compared to the delights in store for him.

The following morning as Lancelot makes his way out of the queen’s bedroom, he leaves traces of his presence behind:

Li cors s’an vet, li cuers sejorne. Droit vers le fenestre s’an tourne, Mes de son sanc tant i remaint Que li drap sont tachié et taint Del sanc qui cheï de ses doiz. (ll. 4697-701)40

The visual established in this parting evokes a bride’s virginal blood staining sheets on the wedding night. Lancelot’s blood stained on the sheets liken him to a young maiden while simultaneously demonstrating his brawn and virility, the fact that he has taken the queen in her bed and penetrated the sanctity of her bedchamber to do so. The mise en question of Lancelot’s masculinity creates a (small) space for Guinevere’s desire to be read. As stated previously, female sexual desire in romance literature is expressed through more subtle avenues than that of the opposite sex. Guinevere makes her desire known first in the text by leaving her comb beside the fountain like a calling card saying,

39 “From their kisses and touches / They felt, without lying, / Joy and wonder / Such that never before has its equal / Been known or heard of... / So much joy and pleasure / Lancelot had all night long.” 40 “His body leaves, his heart remains. / Toward the window he turns, / But because of his blood, part of him remained / On the sheets marked and stained / By the blood fallen from his fingers.”

49

“I was here, come follow me.” The fact that she chose her hair to be the identifying evidence of her presence indicates intimacy. Combing of female hair is a private act that would be carried out in a woman’s bedchamber. Additionally, unbound hair, as it would naturally have been while combing, is inherently sexual. Robert Bartlett maintains that long, flowing tresses represent sexual innocence. “When married women let their hair down, they expressed a suspension of the normal social code. They were unloosing bonds, both physically and metaphorically, and they were behaving inappropriately, since long flowing hair was a sign of maidenhood” (54). If Guinevere’s comb and locks of hair were clues intended to arouse and convey her desire to Lancelot, it is rather fitting that their sexual encounter would result in the loss of a maidenhead. Only, instead of the queen it is Lancelot who assumes the role of maiden. The association between her unbound hair and sexuality transforms her comb to being more than evidence of her presence by the fountain. Teeth entwined with hair, Guinevere’s comb now conveys erotic connotations.

Queen Guinevere also makes it clear in the text that she will accept only the version of Lancelot who submits himself to Love’s will. Her desire in Chrétien’s narrative is a lover who submits to Love. Upon first seeing her knight when he arrives to rescue her at Méléagant’s court, her anger is evident. She gives him the cold shoulder and chastises him:

Comant? Don n’eüstes vos honte De la charrete et si donastes? Molt a grant enviz i montastes, Quant vos demorastes .II. pas. Por ce, voir, ne vos vos je pas Ne aresnier ne esgarder.

50

(ll. 4484-89)41

Her disdain for the knight stems from his hesitation at the very onset of the romance. He wavered briefly between Reason and Love for fear of shame, before deciding to abide by

Love’s command. Guinevere eventually pardons her lover and their reconciliation ends in her inviting him into her chamber. When Lancelot proposes to break the bars of her window to gain access into her room, her willingness is clear: “Certes, fet ele, jel voel bien” (l. 4616).42 Absolute obedience from her lover remains important for her. Testing the hero’s devotion is a recurring theme in Chrétien’s romances. Soredamors’ hair was intended as a test for Alixandre, and Guinevere tries Lancelot’s commitment to her and

Love on the tourney field. She sends her maiden to deliver a message to Lancelot: “Sire, ma dame la reïne / Par moi vos mande, et jel vos di, / Que au noauz” (ll. 5652-4).43

Guinevere commands Lancelot to perform at his worst possible, intentionally throwing each joust. A knight who chooses Reason and honor above Love would never accept such an order, but Lancelot, having learned Love’s lesson, responds, “molt volantiers” (l.

5655).44 After performing at his worst all day, Lancelot is ridiculed by his fellow knights and becomes the laughingstock of the tournament. His actions, noble in the eyes of

Guinevere, are shameful to spectators and participants alike: “Ensi tot le jor jusqu’au soir

/ Se fist cil tenir por coart” (ll. 5704-5).45 The next day Guinevere delivers the same

41 “How? Did you not feel the shame that the cart has given you? / You climbed in grudgingly / Only after pausing for two seconds. / For this, truthfully, I did not want / To speak to you nor see you.” 42 “Certainly, she says, I want it very much.” 43 “Sir, my lady the queen / commands you, as I say to you, / Do your worst!” 44 “Gladly!” 45 “Thus all day until evening / He lets himself be taken as a coward.”

51 command: lose every match. Finally, she sends her maid again with a new message: do as best as he can! His response is revealing:

Or li diroiz Qu’il n’est riens nule qui me griet A feire des que il li siet, Que quanque li plest m’atalante. (ll. 5890-3)46

It seems that by the end of the romance, Lancelot’s sole lord and master is his lady and queen, Guinevere. Lancelot’s subservience again poses a problem to reading female sexuality and desire in the literature of the period. The fact that Chrétien’s romances rely heavily upon male action and are largely written through the perspective of these masculine characters indicates that female stance and women’s sexual desire is not a topic he cares to explore openly. This tendency reflects the social norms of medieval

France where expression of female sexuality is a source of anxiety and shame. The only acceptable expression of female sexuality is women’s desire for marriage, for marital sex was the only type of intercourse permitted to women; all other sex acts were punished by cannon law (Brundage, 40). Mazo Karras and James A. Brundage both touch upon the social anxiety surrounding female adultery and sexuality in regard to inheritance

(Sexuality in Medieval Europe, 114; 42). Clear lines of inheritance were crucial for maintaining power in feudal societies. Doubtful and ambiguous claims could pose identity and legal upheavals that lead to collapses of power (Brundage, 42). Mazo Karras additionally points out that the weight of a woman’s dishonor is carried by her entire family, incentivizing women to behave virtuously so as not to tarnish the family with

46 “Now tell her, / That nothing can be grievous to me / To undertake, if it is pleasing to her. / For that which pleases her is all I desire.”

52 speculation and shame (113). These factors may account for Chrétien and other medieval authors’ need for ambiguous and coded narration of female desire. The submissiveness of

Lancelot in Le Chevalier de la charrette illustrates one way in which the author lends his heroine power, while still silencing her erotic desire. By allowing Guinevere to call the shots in her relationship with Lancelot at certain moments throughout the text, Chrétien appears to produce an example of love that overturns the male-serving system of feudalism in which women are exchangeable goods. With Lancelot, Guinevere holds a shred of power that lends her control in her relationship. On the other hand, her marriage with Arthur relegates her to the status of a desirable trinket, relinquished all too willingly to Méléagant in the beginning of the romance, only to be returned to her husband by the villain with the possibility that her husband will have to once again hand her over if

Lancelot does not win her freedom in combat indicating that not much has changed with her individual freedom from the beginning to the end of the story. The significance of

Arthur’s passivity is complex. At Arthur’s court, Méléagant reveals that he holds citizens from Arthur’s kingdom prisoner. He claims that if the queen is given to him and one of

Arthur’s knights challenges him in combat and wins, he will release the captives and return the queen to her rightful place. The knight Keu desires to accept the challenge and pushes Arthur to accept the conditions. Although it is the role of knights to defend and fight for their lord, Arthur behaves like a cowardly king, allowing his wife to be taken to his enemy’s court under the protection of Keu, whose yearning for glory places the queen in enemy hands. The queen, along with the whole court, is disturbed by the turn of events:

La reïne an repesa molt, Et tuit dient par la meison Qu’orguel, outrage et desreison

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Avoir Kex demandee et quise. (ll. 184-7)47

While being scurried away with Keu, Guinevere murmurs under her breath, “Ha! Amis, se le seüssiez, / Ja, ce croi, ne me lessissiez / Sans chalonge mener un pas!” (ll. 209-11).48

This whispered cry refers to Lancelot, whom the audience has yet to encounter, and attests to his devotion to the queen in that he would never relinquish her to the enemy for foolish pride as Keu has done and as her husband has permitted. From the beginning of the romance the opposition between courtly love and vassalage is certain. Arthur, his knight Keu, and Méléagant subscribe to brutish, male-centered feudal ties. Through the humbled, feminized, and submissive Knight of the Cart, the author will demonstrate an alternative to the machoism of the Arthurian court.

In Love in the Western World, Denis de Rougemont asserts that “… courtly love arose as a reaction to the brutal lawlessness of feudal manners” (33). He even notes the tension caused by the triangular relationship of lord, lady, and vassal, likening the

Arthurian knight to the troubadours of Occitania, swearing fidelity to and writing romantic verses for powerful ladies (33). The knights of courtly love literature struggle with the friction created by serving two masters whose demands are at odds. This argument I have sought flesh out textually through Lancelot’s choice between Love and

Reason. Described previously as figures associated with feminine and masculine behavior and action, Love and Reason epitomize the tension between feudal code and courtly love. Chrétien’s romance conveys the message that there is honor, renown, and

47 “The queen was much dismayed by this, / And all said, throughout the house, / That from pride, immoderation, and irrationality / Keu had requested this mission.” 48 “Ah! Dear friend, if you knew of it, / Never, I believe, would you leave me / To be carried away a single step, without challenging it.”

54 even status to be gained through apparent obedience to women. The fact remains that although Guinevere’s character demands deference from her lover, possession of her noble tresses elevates the hero and her hair is exploited by the knight to express his desire for her body. Her hair is objectified to elevate the status of her lover. Lancelot’s devotion to Guinevere is on the surface the romantic deference of a knight willingly serving his lady, but it holds deeper significance of his desire for status and to usurp Arthur’s power.

His treatment of her hair as a status object typifies this point.

While Chrétien’s ability to accurately convey female desire is debatable,

Lancelot’s desire is evident and resolute throughout the narrative. Through the process of fetishization, Lancelot is empowered and emboldened by Guinevere’s hair. His sexual arousal and treatment of the precious golden strands of hair once again parallel religious iconography and reliquary worship. The fact that hair is a fetish synecdoche for the female body illustrates the author’s will to disassociate the female body from the erotic experience. French feminist writer Hélène Cixous argues:

…writing has been run by a libidinal and cultural – hence political, typically masculine – economy; that is a locus where the repression of women has been perpetuated, over and over, more or less consciously, and in a manner that’s frightening since it’s often hidden or adorned with the mystifying charms of fiction (my emphasis, 879).

She indicates that patriarchal dominance is subtly perpetuated in literature, often invisible to the unconscious reader. If this is true throughout the history of writing in the West, it is easy to see how this tactic was employed during the Middle Ages. In the œuvre of

Chrétien de Troyes, female desire is oppressed behind a charming romance. The author again employs fetishized hair as a tool for male pleasure and perpetuates male-centered

55 desire. Similar to Alixandre, Lancelot kisses and caresses his love-object’s hair, venerating it like a precious relic.

Ja mes oel d’ome ne verront Nule chose tant enorer, Qu’il les comance a aorer, Et bien .C.M.. foiz les toche Et a ses ialz et a sa boche Et a son front et a sa face, N’est joie nule qu’il n’an face, Molt s’an fet liez, molt s’an fet riche, An son saing pres del cuer les fiche Entre sa chemise et sa char. (ll. 1460-9)49

This recurring, quasi-religious eroticism in Chrétien’s romances underlines how pivotal female hair is to the genre. I have demonstrated that Lancelot desires Guinevere for the status that she represents, thus objectifying and dehumanizing her, the knight’s treatment of her hair as a relic fetishizes it and illustrates his desire for glory and possession of status-objects. The text even goes as far as to state that Guinevere’s hair holds such potent power for the hero that he no longer needs religion. It is as if the hair itself has become his new faith. Lancelot has no more need to call upon saints, such is his new founded adoration of hair.

Car an ces chevox tant se fie Qu’il n’a mestier de lor aïe. Mes quel estoient li chevol? Et por mançongier et por fol M’an tanra l’en, se voir an di...

49 “Never will man’s eyes see / Anything honored so much, / That he begins to adore it. / A good hundred thousand times he touched [the hairs] / to his eyes and to his mouth / And to his forehead and to his face. / There is no joy that does not come from them; / They make him happy and make him rich. / He fastens them to his breast, against his heart / Between his undershirt and skin.”

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Ors .C.M.. foiz esmerez Et puis autantes foiz recuiz Fust plus oscurs que n’est la nuiz Contre le plus bel jor d’esté Qui ait an tot cest an esté, Qui l’or et les chevols veïst Si que l’un lez l’autre meïst. (ll. 1475-80... 1488-94)50

This again calls to mind the cult of relics and fanatic obsession where saints’ relics “were jealously guarded, feared, fought for and sometimes even stolen from fellow Christians”

(Walker Bynum, 163). Lancelot’s desire to hide the precious object and shield it close to his heart exemplifies possessive and overprotective behavior, in addition to his evident adoration. The knight readily grants the comb to the young woman guiding him, indifferent to the value that the ornate comb holds as a luxurious material object. In her analysis of Guinevere’s comb in Le Chevalier de la charrette, Claire Rosier points out that the young maiden acts as a mediator between Lancelot’s present impuissance and his desire for future intercourse with the queen; she is the narrative thread in this tale who

“dirige l’amant vers l’objet de son désir, l’aimée lointaine, mais violement présente à travers ses cheveux” (375).51 As Guinevere acted as the unifying force that brought

Soredamors and Alixandre together in Cligès, this demoiselle, sexually rejected by

Lancelot, impels the hero toward his desire. The demoiselle aids Lancelot in his journey to self-empowerment first by revealing details about the marvelous hair, second by

50 “Because he puts so much faith in the hairs / He no longer needs their aid. / But what is it about the hair? / For a liar and a fool / I would be taken, if I told the truth... / As gold refined one hundred thousand times, / And after each time refined again / Would be more obscure than darkness / Compared to the most beautiful summer’s day / That we had this year / If the gold and hair were beheld / Placed side by side.” 51 “Leads the lover toward the object of his desire, the far-off beloved, vividly present through her hair.”

57 pushing him onward on his journey. It is the fragment of the queen’s body, taken into his possession at the fountain, that will ennoble him. Just as a relic brings the owner closer to

God, Lancelot’s new treasure brings him into closer proximity to the status he naturally desires. Because erotic desire is paralleled with religious fervor, and religion was the backbone of medieval society, Chrétien de Troyes is illustrating once again that his brand of courtly love is its own cannon. Because female hair was a symbol of women’s sexuality, possession of Guinevere’s tuft of hair represents possession of her sexually.

Mazo Karras attests that “Penetration symbolizes power. For men of one group to have sex with women of another is an assertion of power over the entire group” (Sexuality in

Medieval Europe, 30). His covetous desire for the queen’s erotic hair represents his yearning to penetrate her. Sex with Guinevere would represent, in Chrétien’s romance,

Lancelot’s assertion of power over his monarch by penetrating the monarchy. It would be the culmination of his quest for power and status. The road he must take in order to achieve this goal as quickly as possible is that of courtly love and submitting to Love’s command. Only through love and romance, can Lancelot gain the authority he seeks.

When Guinevere willingly accepts Lancelot in her bed, the knight has attained the highest status possible and elevated himself in rank. While both are part of the noble class, as a queen Guinevere holds a position of superiority over Lancelot. Fulfilling his desire by having sex with the queen gives him power over her and equality with anyone of her rank. The fact that he cuckolded his lord and king debases Arthur and attests to

Lancelot’s supremacy over him.

Conclusion

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The objective of this chapter has been to demonstrate how women’s hair in the medieval romances of Chrétien de Troyes denote sex-based power hierarchies that situate women and female desire as inferior to men and male sexual aspirations. It has additionally illustrated that erotic longing for medieval heroines veils a deeper desire for power and status. For the Greek knight, Alixandre, desire for Soredamors body is represented through her fetishized hair, stitched into his chemise and erotically caressed during the night. His inaction to bring about a union with her upon learning of her hair is an act of passivity on his part that evinces his satisfaction to possess her hair and continue to seek self-pleasure in secrecy. Soredamors, on the other hand, attempted to communicate her desire through her hidden hair test. In accordance with feminine modesty at the time, Soredamors’ ultimate wish was to be wedded to the Greek knight who stole her heart. Because hair was an external symbol of female sexuality, her stitched message was a reminder of her erotic potential as a wife. Monica Green reminds us that

“… women in Western society have historically been defined by their sexual status— virgin, wife, widow—in a far more persistent and fundamental way than men…”

(“Female Sexuality in the Medieval West,” 130). In this light, it is easy to see how

Soredamors’ desire for marriage is the only sexual expression socially acceptable and available to her. The only possibility for her to fulfill her sexual desire is through marriage to her beloved knight. It is therefore quite significant that she takes it upon herself to try and achieve this goal through her sewn hair. Her feminine craft as a product of labor added value to Alixandre’s undergarment, weaving its own fetishistic worth via the strand of golden hair. While Soredamors’ initial contribution and labor increased the value of Alixandre’s chemise, his continuous wear of the garment added additional mystical properties, furthering Chrétien’s religious parallels with relics and monastic hair

59 shirts. The romantic narrative in the beginning of Cligés demonstrates how hair can be fetishized and used as a means of empowerment outside of the realm of courtly love.

While Alixandre’s ambition to become a successful knight at Arthur’s court is clear from his initial departure from Greece, his direct desire to exploit Soredamors for ambitions of social climbing is less evident. Heir to the throne in Greece and eventually the ruling monarch there, it is Soredamors who gains rank and prestige in her eventual union with him. Further, Alixandre gains favor in court and befriends the queen before ever being aware of his beloved’s hair. Thus, it is clear that her hair does not represent a desire for higher social status. Rather, fetishized female hair is a tool for male sexual pleasure and creates a feeling of empowerment and mastery in the Greek knight. It is not until Le

Chevalier de la charrette where courtly love and submission to Love’s demands becomes a path to power. It is in this narrative that the hero’s desire for his love interest is symbolic for his ambition to elevate himself in rank. Chrétien seems to present an alternative version to the harsh ways of feudalism with a narrative that makes a woman sovereign over the hero’s heart. By making Guinevere and Love his masters, Lancelot succeeds in taking possession of his love object and using her as a means to become closer to Arthur, eventually surpassing him by cuckolding the passive king. The fetishized mèche of hair in Le Chevalier de la charrette emasculates Lancelot by placing him in a feminized position of passive sexuality. It is also a reminder of the body that he has yet to penetrate, i.e., the status that he does not yet have. Having said that,

Guinevere’s hair is treated and adored like a holy relic, becoming a religion and faith in itself. The glorification of female hair exemplifies the worth of this treasured possession, covetously guarded by male hands. Although Lancelot is still far from the power he

60 seeks, with the hair tucked against his breast he is like the possessor of a holy relic, instantly closer to God, in his case, God-like power.

In these romances of Chrétien de Troyes, women’s hair is a locus of male sexual desire. This desire is firmly situated in the author’s equation of courtly love as a force that favors the advancement of male characters. Medieval literature reflects socio-cultural values that maintain and enforce male-centered hegemony and hierarchy. The desire for and ultimate marriage of Soredamors represents women’s role as wife. That was the only acceptable sexual role for women deemed appropriate by the church. Alixandre’s fetish desire and masturbation with the hair-infused chemise reflect that men are allowed a more open expression of sexuality and that they ultimately are the masters of women’s bodies. The courtly love genre, as illustrated through the example of Guinevere and her awesome hair, perpetuates male empowerment underneath a disguise of male subservience. Diverting as this genre surely was for medieval audiences, as it remains tooday, instead of elevating women’s status and suggesting a model of action opposed to vassalage that situates women at the center, courtly love obliges women to respond favorably to men pursuing them for love and/or marriage and the fact still remains that noble women in courtly love literature are an emblem of male status that is exploited in order to improve the status of courtly knights and lords. The author’s choice to implement female hair as a fetishized object links male empowerment and the objectification of female characters as a channel for male social bonding and social climbing to women’s sexuality. Anthropologist E.R. Leach has no doubt that hair is a universal symbol of sexuality. He states:

Even the most skeptical anthropologist must admit that head hair is rather frequently employed as a public symbol with an explicitly sexual significance, but

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many would argue that this connection between hair and sexuality is accidental. They would claim too that hair, even as a sex symbol, is used in different ways (153).

Because hair existed outside of literature as an external sign of female sexuality, Chrétien was able to weave this genre of fetishism into his text seamlessly. Although this chapter centered around hair as a fetish object employed to uplift and improve the social status of men, medieval literature is rife with further examples of female hair being used in different ways to achieve various aims and express further socio-cultural realities of medieval France, some of which will be explored in detail in the following chapters.

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Chapter Two Violence and Male Dominance: Female Hair as a Locus of Punishment

Introduction

From antiquity to modernity, the forceful removal of women’s hair has been used to punish sexual transgressions. Because women’s hair was, as the apostle Paul observed, a woman’s “glory,”52 a shaved head represented a woman with neither glory nor honor- a woman shamed and ostracized. The availability of women’s hair as a means of restraint is documented in medieval literature where jealous husbands or lovers will grab a woman’s hair to deal abuse to her body as punishment for suspected infidelity. Due to its deeply rooted ideological connection to sexuality, female hair was able to become a locus of justice and punishment for female sexual crimes during the medieval period.

The link between shaving women’s hair and sexual misconduct carried on into the modern era. In post-war France, women found guilty of la collaboration horizontale were subjected to the humiliating spectacle of having their hair forcefully shorn from their heads amidst the cries of angry and hostile onlookers. The Chicago Tribune reported from Chartres and St. Raphael on August 18th, 1944 that “Townsfolk… clipped the heads of 30 women who had consorted with German troops” (Chicago Tribune, 2). The

52 1 Corinthians 11:15

63 journalist painted the scene of a small courtyard, the ground littered with women’s hair, as more and more girls are “dragged in and put in a chair” to be shaved in front of laughing mobs (Chicago Tribune, 2). This degrading act is even chronicled in French literature by poet Paul Eluard as well as in the more well-known screenplay Hiroshima mon amour by Marguerite Duras. Eluard begins his poem, “Comprenne qui voudra” with a disclaimer condemning the treatment of these women. He recounts that “En ce temps- là, pour ne pas châtier les coupables, on maltraitait des filles. On allait même jusqu’à les tondre” (112).53 Duras similarly criticizes the action as “hasty and ridiculous justice” in the appendices to her screenplay (99). Interestingly, these tondues, as they were labeled, victims of the post-war demand for justice, share the origin of their name with the tonsure, a common style of priestly head shaving. The term tondue (tonsured) derives from the priestly tonsure, la tonsure, the shaved, circular style worn by select priestly orders as early as the Middle Ages. The adjective tondu and the noun tonsure derive from the verb tondre, to shave. The masculine and feminine forms of the adjective tondu/tondue carry unmistakably different social significance and meaning. On one hand, to be a tonsured male reflects the religious morality and devotion of the priestly order, while being a woman tondue in liberated France evinces sexual immorality against la patrie. The example of women’s hair in post-war France further reveals how recently women’s sexuality and their bodies have been subject to government control and justice, as well as subject to social justice from within local communities, resulting in scarlet- letter-genre backlash and ostracizing. The French tondues also demonstrate that female

53 “At that time, instead of punishing the guilty, girls were mistreated. Some even went so far as shaving their heads.”

64 hair remains an external signifier of their inner sexuality, morality, and therefore value as members of society.

It goes hand in hand that the extremely visible punishment of cutting and shaving hair carries social implications and consequences. A woman so conspicuously marked by her sexuality has no place in good society and is therefore below the consideration of those belonging to a higher rank in society, that is to say, everyone else. In fact, due to the importance of status and hierarchy, women of good moral standing are oftentimes complicit in the punishment and violation of other, immoral, female bodies. This is the case in one unsettlingly brutal medieval fabliau, “Les Treces.” One key method used to approach my primary sources is intersectionality, teasing out the links between sex, class, and violence. This short fabliau prompts questions of domestic abuse and marital rape in literature. The topic of sexual and domestic violence will be further explored with the example of le mari jaloux from the thirteenth-century allegorical dream romance of

Guillaume de Lorris and Jean de Meun, Le Roman de la rose.54 I will further demonstrate that in this fabliau, social hierarchy and female sexuality are intermarried and that class plays a pivotal role in both the visibility of female sexuality and the punishment for sexual transgression. Finally, I turn to female inflicted violence against women by returning to the self-interested bourgeois wife in “Les Treces” and a peculiar incident in the romance, Floriant et Florete, inspired by the Arthurian legends of Chrétien de

Troyes. In this traditional heroic narrative, a brutish knight demands to cut the long braids of three damsels in exchange for their safe lodging. His perplexing desire to gift the

54 This lengthy poem was completed over a large span of time by two separate authors. The latter portion of the narrative, written by Jean de Meun, is what concerns the present analysis. Guillaume de Lorris is estimated to have completed 4,028 lines of the poem around 1230, leaving the bulk of the allegory (17,724 lines of poetry) to be completed by Jean de Meun around 1275.

65 braids to his beloved lady reveals complex structures of power and sexual desire centered around the forceful removal of female hair.

In the intimate domestic setting, male authority is demonstrated through abuse of the female body and hair, indicating how important control over female sexuality was to the male head of house. This notion will be considered with the examples of the abusive cuckolded husband in “Les Treces” and the mari jaloux in Le Roman de la rose. In the public, social sphere, violence against the female body and control of sexuality plays out through class hierarchies in which upper-class women tread upon women of lower status, empowering the former group and oppressing the latter. The bourgeois wife and her sex worker friend provide an apt example of class inequalities in medieval literature and how facile it was for the upper-class to exploit and mistreat members of the lower classes for their own personal gain and profit, even using them as shields for their own immorality.

The fact that the wife in “Les Treces” is complicit in and even unremorseful over her friend’s abuse speaks to her willingness to see other women suffer so that she may continue her sexual dalliances and deceit. The adulterous bourgeois wife and her prostitute friend reveal details about class and hegemony in medieval society. While their sexual misbehavior is equally condemnable in the eyes of the church, the bourgeois wife is able to escape public and moral scrutiny because of her social position. Her status and ability to pay the prostitute camouflages her sin and permits her to continue her infidelity in relative secrecy while her friend bears the consequences dealt to her because of her conspicuous sexuality. The prostitute’s occupation and need of money made her vulnerable to the machinations of the bourgeois wife.

Similar woman-against-woman behavior is also found in a perplexing episode in the Arthurian romance, Floriant et Florete. It is clear in these two texts that women, as

66 well as men, understand the centrality of female hair as a symbol of sexuality and power and exploit other women for gain. Continuing to analyze violence to female hair as a tool for empowerment, I will show how the puzzling lady who amasses young women’s braids for ornamentation uses her collection to increase her status through the abuse and oppression of other women at the hands of men. In both stories, it is men who would enact the violence against women, each for their own motives, and women who ultimately mastermind deceit and plot for advancement. After assessing the male intent behind domestic battery, the second half of this chapter will problematize these mean girls who profit from the shame, violation, and belittlement of their fellow women.

Male Jealousy and Punishment of the Female Body

In a well-known French fabliau, “Les Treces,” a prostitute finds herself the scapegoat in a violent and unsettling domestic situation. After a bourgeois husband has discovered his wife’s lover in his own bed, the wily wife sets out to do whatever it takes to deceive her husband and make him believe that he had only dreamt of her infidelity and that she had never taken a lover into their bed. She commences series of charades to erase the presence of her lover, and eventually calls on a friend for help. She pays her ammie, a prostitute, to go and sleep next to her husband in their bed so that he doesn’t realize that his wife’s absence while she rushes to meet her lover.

Lors apele une soe ammie: “Ma douce suer, ne vos poist mie, Ainz en alez de ci au jour Dormir avecque mon seignor Et je vos paierai demain Cinq sous toz saus en vostre main; Car se delez lui sentoit,

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Ja de moi ne li sovanroit, Ainz cuideroit que je ce fusse Qui delez son costé geüsse. Molt dout le blasme de la gent.” (ll. 129-39)55

The friend agrees to the arrangement because she wants the money, but expresses concern, making it clear that “ne vorroit por nul androit / qu’il la ferist ne feïst honte” (ll.

142-143).56 Any physical harm is not worth the financial profit from their exchange. The wife assures her friend that nothing bad will come to her, and the ladies part ways. When the friend arrives at the bourgeois’ house and slips into bed with him, she is surprised to find that he is awake, waiting for the return of his errant wife. Believing that the woman in bed with him is his wife, he begins a verbal assault against her, labeling her a pute prouvée.57 Things take a turn for the worse when the husband reaches for two canes that he had intentionally placed by his bed.

Lors le saisi par les cheveus Que ele avoit luisanz et sors Tout autresi comme fins ors: Le chief sa fame resambloit. Cele qui de paor trembloit N’ose cier, mais mout s’esmaie, Et li borjois tel cop li paie D’une part et d’autre, por voir, Tant que morte la cuide avoir. Et quant dou batre fu lassez, Ne lui fu mie ancor asez; Son cotel prist isnelemant, Puis a juré son sairemant

55 “Then she calls on of her friends: / ‘Sweet sister, if you are amenable, / Go now, until morning, / Sleep with my lord / And I will pay you tomorrow / Five sous directly into your hand; / Because if he feels you beside him / Never would he know of me, / And would thus believe that it was I / Who was sleeping beside him. / I greatly fear the people’s scorn.’” 56 “But she didn’t want for anything / That he hit her or shame her in any way.” 57 Proven whore

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Que il la honniroit dou cors. Lors li tranche les treces fors, Au plus prés qu’il pot de la teste. (ll. 162-177)58

The husband beats her to a pulp, until he is physically exhausted from the battery. He then takes a knife and cuts off her braid swearing to shame her by making her adultery publicly known. After surviving the attack of the husband, the prostitute returns to her home to find the wife waiting for news. The wife attempts to comfort her friend and get her in bed to rest and heal. The prostitute, meanwhile, laments over her mutilated state, which threatens her place in society as well as her job security. She wonders how she will earn a living, gagnera son pain, because her body is so broken, and her hair is all gone.

She is distraught over the loss of her braid: “Les larmes li chieent dou vis! / Et de ses treces ot tel deul / Morte vossist 68ster a son vueil” (ll. 188-90).59 This abuse shames her and evinces her status as a loose woman. Not only is she rendered less attractive to potential clients, but her body bears the sign of her position as a sex worker in such a visible way that she will be treated as a pariah by society. She now externally reflects the perceived immorality of her occupation and willingness to have sexual relations outside of marriage. The poor woman can no longer go about her routine and live as she had before because of the judgment and ostracizing her sin will cause her in her community.

58 “Then he took her by the hair, / Which was lustrous and blonde, / As brilliant as fine gold. / One would think it the head of his wife. / The other, trembling with fear, / Dare not cry out, but was panicked, / And the bourgeois payed her such blows / From side to side, truly, / He thought he had killed her. / When he could no longer beat her, / He still hadn’t had enough; / He quickly took his knife, / And swore an oath / That he would shame her body. / Therefore, he cut off her braid / As close as he could to her head.” 59 “Tears fall from her face! / And of her braid she has such sorrow / That death would be her wish.”

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The proof of her immoral lifestyle is rendered unduly conspicuous because of the attack on her body and specifically the removal of her hair.

There are two forms of physical violence enacted upon the female body in this fabliau: battery of her body and the shearing of hair (Rolland-Perrin 342). The first violence can be interpreted as a private act, while the removal of the woman’s plait is a public and social chastisement and humiliation. When the prostitute cries that death would be preferable over the loss of her hair, this shows how serious the loss of hair is to a woman’s social identity. Until her hair grows back, the friend will carry the mark of the wife’s transgression on her body. This threatens her social position by rendering her unable to work and earn wages, because much of her occupation relies on her physical beauty and appeal to men. Furthermore, outed as a whore, any possibility of finding other kinds of work and/or a respectable marriage are unfeasible. In “Les Treces,” the loss of hair denotes a loss of prestige and an inability to survive economically in society. This medieval fabliau illustrates power struggle centered around female sexuality in two distinct spheres: domestic and social. These two spheres are directly linked to the notion that the prostitute’s abuse is both private, occurring in the intimate sphere of the home, and public, conveying the victim’s shame to the entire community and affecting her ability to function and participate in the social sphere.

Despite the fact that the female prostitute in “Les Treces” is not the bourgeois’ actual wife, the abuse depicted in the fabliau is considered wife beating because his intent was to shame and assault his spouse. The husband’s inability to distinguish between the two blonde women (the fact that he does not, in fact, abuse his wife, does not alter his original objective to belittle his wife and reestablish a sense of domestic dominance. The husband deems that her punishment must reflect the fact that her crime was of a sexual

70 nature so that the entire community will know of her shameful, licentious ways. In labeling his believed-to-be wife a pute prouvée, he acknowledges her sex misbehavior at a time when any immoral woman would be identified as a whore. As mentioned in the previous chapter, female sexuality was a source of anxiety for medieval men in regard to inheritance and family identity. Sexual relations outside of marriage were condemned by the church and punishable by law. In addition to legal and religious ramifications, penance for sexual sin was “sometimes accompanied by some form of ritual public humiliation designed to impress upon the rest of the community the seriousness of the offense” (Brundage 42). When the husband in “Les Treces” vows to make his wife bear the mark of her shame while cutting off her braid, he is enacting a well-established punishment for lustful and adulterous women. James A. Brundage states that “In many places adulterous women also had their heads shaved and might be paraded throughout the streets to the tune of jeers, catcalls, and often physical abuse from bystanders” (42).

Public chastisement, slander, and insult are certainly what await the unfortunate prostitute and are precisely why she laments her hair, crying that death would be better than such a grave loss and punishment. The unfaithful wife echoes a handful of lines earlier in the text when propositioning her friend for help. She tells the sex worker, “Moute dout le blasme de la gent” (l. 139).60 The wife fears the same social ostracizing and public derision as her friend, but she additionally fears her fall in status going from a successful, wealthy bourgeois wife to a known harlot. It is for this reason that, despite how much she cares for her lover, she wishes to reconcile with her husband through trickery. She is aware that she has been caught red-handed and is remorseful only for the negative and harsh consequences that are due to her unless she can contrive a scheme to rid herself of

60 “I greatly fear the people’s scorn.”

71 blame. The husband, meanwhile, is ashamed at being cuckolded by his wife in his own bed and then tricked by her. Her husband knows she has deceived him and replaced her lover with a calf while he ran to fetch a candle. He tells her :

Fame, tant sez male aventure, Souz ciel n’a nule creature Ne deceüsses par verté ! Mout avez or tost tresgité Vostre lecheor, par ma teste; (ll. 109-13)61

Monica Green shows how social institutions from Antiquity carried over easily into the Middle Ages. The male as the dominant head of house was one such convention that went unquestioned. She explains that studies of Late Antiquity show that the male head of house was free to punish members of his household as he saw fit, and that he was given complete dominance over his wife (Female Sexuality, 132-33). If this is the standard for the medieval household, then it is clear that the husband’s lack of control over his wife and her sexuality threatens his dominance in the domestic sphere. Any child of hers would have uncertain paternity. It is this suspicion that causes unrest over inheritance and familial bonds in medieval culture where familial strength and influence is maintained through clear lineage. The cuckolded husband is vulnerable on multiple fronts: his wife seeks sexual pleasure in the arms of another man, indicating his inability to fulfil her erotic desire, his heir or any child she may have is called into question, and his wife sees him as a big enough fool to fall for her tricks, usurping his authority in the domestic sphere. Simply put, his wife’s infidelity turns him into a mockery and threatens

61 “Wife, you know so many tricks, / That there is not a creature on earth / That you would not deceive, for truth! / Just now you have quickly thrown out / Your lover, I swear it;”

72 his dominion. This jesting fabliau touches at the core of male insecurity and fear during the period. The husband’s retaliation and revenge upon his wife is his legal right. His wife, as a subordinate member of his household, is subject to any punishment her husband deems fit, including the mutilation her body and removal of her hair. Even marital rape was seen as a husband’s right. His authority to access his wife’s body was unquestioned. Mazo Karras confirms that assault, specifically sexual assault against women, was commonly wielded as a tool by men (Sexuality in Medieval Europe, 29).

The physical abuse in “Les Treces” is the husband’s attempt to show his wife that he still holds power over her. Sociologist Alison Phipps states that “Indeed, literature on domestic violence shows that men often use physical domination to punish female partners... violence can be a way of demonstrating masculinity in the face of an aggressive, dominating woman” (671). The husband’s attack conveys the message that he still holds power over her body and the removal of her hair emphasizes that her sexuality is his to do with as he pleases. Green states that the medieval woman was completely subject to male rule whether from her father, brother, or husband: “Patriarchal control over women included not simply over their actual sexual activity, but also over their everyday behavior” (132). The domestic household with men in charge demonstrates patriarchal governance on the micro-level. Any subversive behavior in the domestic sphere represents a potential threat to patriarchal rule on a larger scale. One woman’s disobedience and infidelity to her husband may seem trivial and her brutal punishment severe, but this wife’s deception alludes to the greater concern of unchecked female sexuality and entitlement which directly threaten male power. His attack on her body is a means to check her for her duplicity, while the forceful removal of the prostitute’s braid is a direct attack on female sexuality.

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Because a woman’s hair is such a strong and evident symbol of their morality and sexuality, the bourgeois husband targets this part of the female body to enact vengeance and re-assert his dominance. This in essence tells the woman he believes to be his wife that her sexuality is not hers to manage. This is again an individual, micro-level castigation for a macro-level threat that menaces the entire social order. The prostitute’s punishment is a personal reminder that she must not transgress sexual norms. Due to the visibility of her abuse, her lack of hair is notice to all women of what awaits them if they stray from morality and sanctioned sex acts. This fabliau, in punishing the prostitute for the bourgeois wife’s infidelity, condemns two sexual misdeeds: adultery and prostitution.

The husband believes he is enacting justice on his wife for her cuckoldry, but the public message once the prostitute leaves his house and returns to her true identity is that prostitution is a sin worthy of punishment and shame. In her analysis of “Les Treces,”

Florence Laurent explains how the violence done to the prostitute is a means of breaking the woman of her wild ways.

Soumettre la femme comme on dompte un cheval rétif, c’est dominer en elle la part animale de sa nature, tenter de tenir les rênes de sa lubricité. Lui couper les tresses, c’est appliquer la punition réservée aux femmes adultères… mais c’est aussi, selon une tradition bien ancrée, mettre un frein à son appétit sexuel en la trainant comme une monture (244).62

The husband’s intent is to break her spirit by breaking her body and putting her erotic misdeeds to an end. This citation speaks to the treatment of women as possessions with

62 “Bringing woman to heel like one tames a rebellious horse is to dominate the animalistic part of her nature, to attempt to hold the reins on her lustfulness. Cutting her hair is to subject her to the punishment reserved for adulterous wives... but it also, according to a long-standing tradition, puts breaks on her sexual appetite by treating her like a mount.”

74 no independent will, things that should be tamed, controlled, used, exchanged, and so on, as seen fit by the male owner.

While the violence in this fabliau is intense and brutal, it is framed around the ludic action of a wily wife duping her foolish husband. The overall intent of the tale is to be humorous and mocking. In 1893, Joseph Bédier described the fabliaux as “nos humbles contes à rire du XIIIe siècle”63 in his critical analysis of the diverting genre (2).

Despite being widely interpreted as light-hearted and burlesque stories, even in mockery and laughter the fabliaux evince revealing truths. Freud’s Jokes and their Relation to the

Unconscious helps to illustrate this point. Freud argues that behind every crude or sexual joke there are “sexual facts” directly related to desire (97). He argues that that which is sexually comedic reveals “a desire to see what is sexually exposed” by the motive of the joke (98). He reveals a triangular relationship between the subjects and audience intended to excite and arouse the observer (99). The implication is that “Les Treces” expresses a desire to beat women and teach them their place through battery and shame. Beneath the comedic scenario of the untrustworthy wife and her gullible husband, nuances of violent sexual desire are uncovered.

Linking evidence for domestic violence, punishment, and female hair is not restricted to this singular fabliau. Because women’s hair continued to carry weight as an external sexual signifier throughout the Middle Ages, female tresses appear as an avenue for punishment in medieval romance as well. In Jean de Meun’s Le Roman de la rose, a thirteenth-century allegorical poem, a jealous husband restrains his wife by the hair and beats her until neighbors arrive to separate the quarrelsome couple. This exchange, recounted by the allegorical characters Ami and Amant, seamlessly illustrates how a

63 “our humble, comedic tales of the 13th century”

75 wife’s conspicuous consumption and flirtation can stir jealousy in her husband, causing him to jump to conclusions about her sexuality. Ami explains that a wife’s rich ornamentation is at the same time the pride of her husband, as well as his downfall.

Seeing his wife admired by young men triggers his jealousy and possessiveness. The husband’s distrust reaches its peak in a brutal scene of abuse and accusation:

Lors la prent, espoir, de venue, Cil qui de mal talant tressue, Par les treces, et sache et tire, Ront li les cheveuls et descire Li jalous, et seur il s’aourse, Pour noient fust lyons seur ourse, Et par tout l’ostel la traÿnne Par courrouz et par ataÿnne, Et la laidange malement; Ne ne veult pour nul serement Recevoir excusacion, Tant est de male entencion; Ainz fiert et frappe et roille et maille Cele qui brait et crie et baille Et fait sa voiz voler au vanz Par fenestres et par auvanz; Et tout quanqu’el fait li reprouche Si com il li vient a la bouche, Devant les voisins qui la vienent, Qui por fols ambedeus les tienent Et la li tollent a grant painne Tant qu’il est a la grosse alaine. (ll. 9365-9386)64

64 “Then, sweating with rage, / He takes her right away / By the hair and drags and pulls her / Breaking and tearing the hair from her. / He attacks her, / A lion on a bear is nothing in comparison, / And throughout the house he drags her, / Full of anger and combativeness, / And treats her badly; / He did not for anything / Accept her excuses, / For he was entirely of ill intent; / Rather he strikes and hits and pounds and beats her / As she cries, yells and screams / And makes her voice fly in the wind / Out of the windows and beyond the doors. / He reproaches her for all that she does / As words tumble from the mouth / In front of the neighbors who come there / And take them both for fools. / They separate him from her with great difficulty / So much that he is out of breath.”

76

What begins as a husband’s tirade about his wife’s flirtatious nature with other men turns into belligerent rage and accusations of prostitution. The husband’s complaint is that his wife is dressed in cloth she has earned from selling her body to other men. Whether the money and clothing are given to her as a lover’s gift or whether it is earned as the wages of the sex trade is unclear. What is clear is that his wife’s new fashions were not bought with the husband’s money. He cites her apparel as proof of her infidelity:

Mais or me dites sanz contreuve: Cele autre riche robe neuve Dont l’autre jour si vous parastes… Par amour, ou l’avez vous prise? Vous m’avez juré saint Denise… Qu’el vous vient de par vostre mere (ll. 9317-19; 1923-26).65

He accuses his wife of receiving the sumptuous dress in exchange for sexual favors arranged by her mother “two or three times a week” (l. 9354). The mother-in-law is seen by the husband as the pimp of his wife’s prostitution, making her complicit in her daughter’s debauchery. The husband is not only jealous of his wife’s infidelity but also of the fact that she is earns her own wage and/or receives luxurious gifts from other men.

The husband’s vexation is rooted in what sociologist Thornstein Veblen, centuries later, would term “conspicuous consumption.” His sociological research yields that a woman’s duty is to “evidence her household’s ability to pay” through her pecuniary expenditure

(180). After closely studying the leisure class in Western culture, Veblen concluded that women’s role in society is to reflect the status and success of the husbands, fathers, and

65 “Tell me then, without ruse / That other new, costly gown / That you were wearing the other day… / By God, where did you get it? / You swore on Saint Denis… / That it came from your mother.”

77 brothers in their lives. Women are expected to be economically dependent on these men.

This explains how the bourgeois husband could feel threatened by his wife’s independence or reliance on other men. Veblen observes,

… An obvious feature of all civilised women’s apparel, are so many items of evidence to the effect that in the modern civilised scheme of life the woman is still, in theory, the economic dependent of the man, —that, perhaps in a highly idealised sense, she is still the man’s chattel. The homely reason for all this conspicuous leisure and attire on the part of women lies in the fact that they are still savants to whom, in the differentiation of economic functions, has been delegated the office of putting in evidence their master’s ability to pay (181-182).

While Veblen’s sociologist analysis specifically scrutinizes cultural consumerism and materialism, his argument proves to be revelatory to quotidian medieval martial relations such as the quarrelsome married couple in Le Roman de la rose. As Veblen’s theory explains, the wife’s new outfit should reflect the financial success of her husband and suggest that she is well cared for by him. Instead, her attire rouses his suspicion and evinces both her economic independence and her adulterous liaisons. Her fashion is the straw that breaks the camel’s back, leading her husband to turn to violence to express his anger and discord. Enraged, he yells at her, “Cuidiez que bien ne vous connoisse? / Qui me tient que je ne vous froisse / Les os comme poucin en paste ” (ll. 9361-63).66 Her pleas of innocence do nothing to quell his rage, but rather fuel his anger further, resulting in the physical abuse of her body as he drags her by her hair.

Images of the husband beating his wife appear in no fewer than thirty manuscript illuminations of Le Roman de la rose (Desmond 95). Most of these images depict the husband, locks of his wife’s hair in one hand and a club raised in the other, with the wife

66 “Do you think that I don’t know you well? / What is it that keeps me from tearing apart / Your bones like a chicken pie…”

78 sumptuously attired. The text specifically refers to the wife’s hair being ripped and torn from her head as she is drawn throughout the house. While any intention on the husband’s part to shame his wife by removing and pulling her hair as a form of punishment, as in “Les Treces,” is not mentioned in the text, it is clear that her hair is exploited as a tool of restraint and punishment for her alleged wrongdoing. The husband could have just as easily grabbed part of her vexing dress to restrain her and pull her about, but instead chose to grab her hair, causing her additional physical pain and singling out the part of her body directly related to her erotic misbehavior. While her dress is evidence in the husband’s eyes of his wife’s infidelity, the woman’s hair is an external social sign of her sexuality. In her insightful analysis on the mistreatment of female hair in medieval literature, Myriam Rolland-Perrin attests that the damage inflicted to the wife’s tresses in Le Roman de la rose attempts to attack the source of her feminine beauty. She says, “Au même titre que la mutilation des tresses, ce supplice vise

à supprimer toute beauté de la chevelure et à déshonorer la femme en l’humiliant”

(349).67 Just as the prostitute’s beauty is erased in “Les Treces,” the husband’s goal is to bring shame to his wife for her immorality and destroy the source of her beauty so that she will no longer be desirable to other men. Because he was a husband without control over his household, his abuse is an attempt to grapple for power and assert himself over his pleasure-seeking wife.

Mazo Karras touches upon luxurious bodily adornment as a literary symbol of female vanity and infidelity. Husbands in medieval literature feared that their wives made themselves attractive because they wanted to take a lover (Sexuality in Medieval Europe,

67 “In the same vein as the mutilation of the tresses, this torture aims to erase all beauty from the hair and to dishonor the wife by humiliating her.”

79

114-115). This detail is recurrent across several genres. For example, the forlorn mal mariée in Marie de France’s twelfth-century Breton lay “Yonec,” locked in a tower by her jealous husband, begins to carefully groom and beautify herself at the onset of a love affair with the mysterious bird-man, Muldumarec. There is literary precedent for the husband in Le Roman de la rose to be mistrustful of his wife’s beauty and adornment.

Mazo Karras explains that the common solution to the beautiful wife’s lust for other men is cured by marring her beauty or taking her adornments from her (Sexuality in Medieval

Europe, 115). The thirteenth-century Occitan romance, Flamenca, presents an additional literary example of male jealousy and mistrust of female beauty. The heroine’s perfectly courtly and noble husband undergoes a bestial, unhuman transformation when a seed of suspicion is maliciously planted in his head. He wrongfully accuses his wife of treachery and adultery, of flirting and seducing other men. In a fit of rage, he searches for his wife,

“Anc non cujet esser abhora / Dins sa cambra ques atrobes / Sa mollier e que la bates” (ll.

1006-8).68 He loathes that his wife acts as though she does not belong to him and threatens her:

A penas si ten que no·il trenca Sas belas crins luzens e claras; E dis, “Na falsa, que·m ten aras Que no·us aucise e no·us affolle E vostre penchura non tolle? E gens aves levat coaza, A l’autr’an cuh qu’en fares massa En sospeisso que la·us arabe; E ja non cug que·us sia sabes Quan la·us farai ab forfes tondre. Greus la·us veiria hom rescondre Quan venon ist cortejador Per so que digan antre lor: ‘Dieus ! Qui vi mais tam bellas cris!

68 “He thought he would never arrive / Quickly enough to her bedroom / To find and beat his wife.”

80

Plus bella son non es aurs fis.’” (ll. 1120-34)69

Flamenca’s jealous and brutish husband, Archimbaut, threatens to cut off her long hair and give her a tonsure because her golden mane is too attractive to other men and he suspects her of being unfaithful. Not only does he intimidate her by her hair, he reveals his desire to disfigure her face and that it is within his power to kill her for her flirtations.

Archimbaut, realizes that a lack of beauty will prevent other men from preying upon his wife’s sexual attractiveness. Her golden beauty is the source of her treachery and his destructive jealousy. Remove the beauty, shame the body, and the wife will return to her rightful place.

This is precisely the husband’s intention in inflicting harm to her hair and body in

Le Roman de la rose. Her luxurious new fashion and beauty must be marred and removed in order to force the woman into submission. Patriarchal dominance in the domestic sphere is not the only seat of power destabilized by her dress. In addition to indicating economic independence from her husband, the wife’s apparel is counter to religious expectations of the period and defies ecclesiastical rule. The husband’s disdain for ostentatious fashion is echoed by the church doctrine, medieval sumptuary laws, and scripture, where Paul’s epistles to Timothy and Peter’s epistles to various churches in

69 “He could hardly refrain from cutting / Her lovely mane, gleaming and bright / And he said ‘Madame Liar, what is it that holds me back / From killing you, from beating you senseless, / From ruining your image? / You may have your hair styled in a ponytail, / But next year I think you’ll wear it up / In a bun, for fear that I will rip it out; / I don’t think you will like it one bit / When I give you a tonsure with large scissors. / What a shame it will be for others to see you hide [your hair] / When so many courtly men come here / Just to say to each other: / ‘My God! Whoever has seen such beautiful hair! / It is more beautiful than fine gold.’’”

81

Asia Minor document religious opposition to women’s lavish dress. Paul clarifies to his female congregation:

I also want the women to dress modestly, with decency and propriety, adorning themselves not with elaborate hairstyles or gold or pearls or expensive clothes, but with good deeds appropriate for women who profess to worship God. (1 Timothy 2:9-10).

Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. (1 Peter 3 :3-4)

Not only does the wife’s garment arouse her spouse’s suspicion and alarm, but it additionally exemplifies unholy, immodest female behavior. Ecclesiastical teachings were fundamental to medieval life and the church regulation was central to culture and society. These New Testament epistles make it clear that a truly pious woman should remain simple and unadorned. Obedience to this tenet establishes the church’s view on female value; a woman’s virtue is found in her plainness and dismissal of luxury. In regard to these medieval religious beliefs, the fashionable wife is doubly culpable. She is suspected of extramarital sex, which is unquestionably forbidden by both religious and political law, and her ostentatious vanity pushes her farther from God’s favor. Her dress and immorality make her a religious outlaw. Both sins are quickly remedied by the husband’s physical abuse and pulling out of her hair. If she is no longer externally beautiful, she can no longer attract lovers and flaunt her luxurious wardrobe.

Despite the ease of the husband’s resolution, Le Roman de la rose condemns domestic violence, positioning the case of the jealous husband as a cautionary tale.

Instead of being an exemplary character, the jealous, violent husband provides a literary

82 example of what not to do when in love. Ami’s commentary on the foolish and unhappily married couple points out to Amant that violence is never to be tolerated. Ami, loyal and wise friend to the dreaming protagonist, explains that the key to obtaining a woman’s love is through wooing her with compliments and chivalry. He explains that beating a woman will only drive her away:

Ja ses vices ne li reprouche Ne ne la bate ne ne touche, Car cil qui veult sa femme batre Pour soi mieus en s’amour enbatre, Quant la veult après apaisier, C’est cil qui, pour aprivisier, Bat son chat et puis le rapele Pour le lier en sa cordele; Mais se li chaz s’en peut saillir Bien peut cil au prendre faillir. (ll. 9737-46)70

Repetitive violence to women will eventually cause them to seek comfort elsewhere.

Ami’s advice is that forcing obedience will only yield resistance and spite. Instead of demanding loyalty, it is better to show love and respect and in return be rewarded with a woman’s love.

Et s’il avient que il la fiere Pour ce qu’el li samble trop fiere Et qu’ele l’a trop corroucié, Tant la forment vers lui groucié, Ou la veult, espoir, menacier, Tantost, pour sa pais pourchacier, Gart que le geu d’amours li face

70 He should never reproach her for her defaults / Nor ever beat her or touch her, / For he who wants to beat his wife / In order to force her love / And after wants to comfort her, / Is like a man who, in order to tame it, / Beats his cat and then calls it back / To chain it to him by a leash; / But if the cat manages to escape / He will not succeed again in catching it.”

83

Ainz qu’el se parte de la place... Ainsi a garder leur amies, Sanz reprendre de leur folies, Doivent tuit estre diligent Li biau, vallet, li preuz, li gent. Fames n’ont cure de chasti, Ainz ont si leur engin basti Qu’il leur est vis qu’il n’ont mestier D’estre aprises de leur mestier; (ll. 9759-66... 9964-70)71

Several remarks should be made here about Ami’s understanding of abuse, forgiveness, and love. The example of the jealous husband and his flirtatious wife indicate that physical violence is a common enough occurrence in the medieval household to merit literary commentary warning against it. While his guidance against violence is sound and ethical, Ami’s metaphor likening women to mistreated cats is a dehumanizing oversimplification of the case in point. While it is true that domestic abuse is unlikely to produce a faithful and happy wife, the Roman’s comparison to animals overlooks the fact that female sexuality is at the center of the domestic violence in this tale. The jealous husband in no way indicates that he aspires to win his wife’s affection, but rather, he is on the verge of killing her because of her alleged unfaithfulness. It is her sexuality that is being judged and punished by the enraged man. The audience is given little evidence against the lavishly dressed wife other than the fact that she suddenly has new clothing that her husband has not provided for her. Her explanation that the fabric was a gift from her mother is unsatisfactory to him as judge and jury and only lead him to accuse her

71 “And if he happens to beat her / Because she seems too proud to him / And because she made him too angry, / So that he mutters insults against her / Or that he wants to threaten her, / He should quickly, in order to make peace with her, / Ensure to play the game of love to her / Before she runs away... / And so, the handsome, proud, and noble young men / Must be diligent / In order to keep their ladies / Without critiquing them for their follies.”

84 mother of being complicit in the wife’s affairs. The complexity of this domestic turmoil goes beyond metaphors of the mistreatment of loyal pets. This husband’s honor and status are delegitimized if in fact his wife has cuckolded him and is given gifts by other men who are more able to provide luxury goods to her. A rebellious and misbehaving pet may be a nuisance, it does not demean its owner’s status and bring him disgrace. The unfaithful wife on the other hand puts her husband’s authority into question by thwarting his supremacy.

Indeed, a lustful woman is far more worrisome to man than an untrained pet. Her sexuality poses a danger to his status. Mazo Karras explains that “Women’s sexuality threatened medieval men in many ways; they might be temptresses and lure men into fornication or worse sins, they might behave in masculine ways with each other and so usurp male gender privilege, or they might use sexuality in other ways to control men”

(Sexuality in Medieval Europe, 151). It appears that the husband’s violence is his attempt to bring his wife low, just as she has brought him low. Similar to how the husband in

“Les Treces” specifically aims at shaming his cheating wife, the jealous husband in Le

Roman de la rose uses violence as a means of vengeance for the wrongs he feels have been done to him. Both men understand that the ultimate form of shame they can bring upon their wives is through the mistreatment and removal of their hair. This allows the husbands to feel as though they have reclaimed control of their household and put their wives back into a place of subservience. Punishment for female adultery dates as far back as the Roman Empire and even ancient Germanic law codes treated women as property of male kin. Vern L. Bullough describes traditional Germanic punishments dealt to unfaithful wives: “... usually the husband shaved off his adulterous wife’s hair, stripped her in the presence of her kinsmen, thrust her from his house, and flogged her through the

85 village” (5). He reports that some women were even executed for this offense and their mutilated bodies tossed aside to rot (5-6). This indicates that traditionally it is a husband’s right to punish his adulterous wife as he wishes, just as the jealous husband in

Le Roman de la rose and the bourgeois in “Les Treces” do.

In her groundbreaking article, “Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian

Existence,” Adrienne Rich outlines how male power is created and maintained in modern societies in order to control women and assure that social hierarchies continue to favor men at the expense of women. First sexualizing the female body, making women susceptible to sexual violence, men positioned themselves as defenders of their women, ensuring that women need the protection and security provided by marriage (185-7).

Essential to maintaining and wielding their power was taking the control of female sexuality from women and placing it in the hands of a girl’s father or a woman’s husband. Rich states that among several characteristic elements of male power, “to deny women [their own] sexuality” including action such as “punishment, including death, for female adultery” is essential (183). Punishing these unfaithful wives for their outlawed sexual practices conveys a strong message that insubordination will not be tolerated and that women who attempt to wield their own sexuality will not be tolerated. It is through physical abuse and removal of female hair that men maintain their control and power over women. The intended victim of the bourgeois husband in “Les Treces” is his wife, illustrating that to him, a wife is little more than a husband’s possession. The bourgeois man turns to violence as a means to reassert his power and ownership over the woman he possesses. His aim is to physically abuse her body and humiliate her by cutting off her hair. Seen as a source of female sexuality, violence against hair becomes an attempt to control women’s sexuality and deny them power over their own bodies. If hair is equally

86 read as a synecdoche for the female body, this sadistic scene takes on shades of violence resembling that of rape: forcing male power upon an unwilling female subject and inflicting male sexuality upon her body while punishing her via the outward signs of her sexuality. Another way outlined by Rich that male power is maintained is by “forcing male sexuality upon [women]” by means of “rape (including marital-rape) and wife beating” (183). Violation of the sex worker’s hair is like sexual assault. It is an additional method to shame and torment the woman via her body.

The larger implication of this abuse is linked to the maintenance of patriarchal hegemony in medieval culture through political, religious, and social laws and standards.

In regard to the religious influence during the Middle Ages, the church asserted its control over women by defining sexual behavioral norms through canon law as far back as the 4th century (Brundage 34). The official church stance on adultery and female lust is clear through their view of women as deceitful seductresses. Women were seen as more susceptible to sexual sin and corruption than men. These beliefs are directly linked to the trope of women as temptresses of innocent male victims (Salisbury 87). Perpetuating the image of women as lustful and untrustworthy beings makes it all the more important for women to be seen as virtuous and honorable. Any woman who does not embody feminine virtue is tainted and ostracized by her community and her fellow woman trying to keep their reputations pure.

That being said, the bourgeois wife in “Les Treces” proves that women are by no means excluded from blame when in it comes to violence against female hair and bodies.

They are not always docile creatures with their heads down in pious submission. In fact, they are often complicit in the shame and degradation to their fellow woman so as to elevate their position and exert power over men, however marginally. The role women

87 play in violence against other women is complex and nuanced. In the following sections we will see examples how some women play a role in orchestrating and facilitating the violence inflicted upon female hair in medieval literature through the odd case of the hair collector in Floriant et Florete and by first returning to the example of the bourgeois wife in “Les Treces.”

Sexual Violence and Class Relations in “Les Treces”

There is no question that the bourgeois wife of “Les Treces” is an unreliable friend. She pays her ammie to sleep in her bed and bear a brutal punishment intended for her while she dallies with her lover and plots to dupe her husband. The bourgeois wife benefits from her friend’s mistreatment and degradation and outwits her cuckolded, abusive husband. While the text does not explicitly label the money-hungry friend as a sex worker, the fact that she is paid to sleep with her friend’s husband, readily agreeing after being assured of her safety, makes it appear as though she is familiar with this kind of exchange. Her need of assurance from the wife may indicate that the sex worker has been treated badly in the past, justifying her concern and revealing battery to be a common consequence of working in the sex industry.

It is important to note that during the Middle Ages the label “prostitute” was not exclusively defined as a person performing any sexual act in exchange for payment. On the contrary, in her book chapter, “Prostitution in Medieval Europe,” Ruth Mazo Karras explains that there was no linguistic distinction between the sex worker (someone who has sex in exchange for fiscal or material goods) and a promiscuous woman who violates sexual behavior outlined by canonical law (243). According to the medieval definition of the word, both women in “Les Treces” would be deemed prostitutes because of the fact

88 that their sexual practices are outside of the bounds of legal, church approved fornication: sex between a heterosexual, married couple, for the purpose of producing children. The only difference between the two women of this fabliau is that one is employed in the sex trade while the other gains no known monetary or material value for her affair but seeks to fulfill her carnal lust outside of her marital bed. Nevertheless, both women are prostitutes in the eyes of the church and society.

Because of the sexual nature of the work, the female sex trade in medieval Europe was closely regulated. Just as any other female sexuality posed a danger to male power,

Mazo Karras points out that paid prostitutes were “identified, circumscribed, and controlled” because “they threaten disorder to the society, and therefore need to be regulated” (“Prostitution in Medieval Europe,” 250). In the same manner that sumptuary laws were established to maintain order and class distinction in society, female sex work was regulated for the benefit of society. The church was often at the forefront of sumptuary regulation. This includes having an active hand in the control of brothels in their local districts. The sexuality of the medieval sex worker served a significant role in the eyes of the church. In some communities, sex workers were even integrated and central to the local economy. The idea being that if the sex trade could be regulated, female sexuality could be even more controlled and contained. Marie Thérèse Lorcin further explains the centrality of medieval prostitution : “Cette intégration à la communauté d’habitants au sein de laquelle exerce la prostituée s’explique très simplement: la prostitution assure la sécurité des foyers” (4).72 The female sex worker was allowed to exist in these societies so that virtuous women would not become victims

72 This integration into the community of habitants at the heart of which the prostitute worked is explained simply: prostitution ensures the safety of the home.

89 of sexual assault and so that these women could uphold their morality and not abase themselves with vulgarity. Because the sexual appetite of men could not be controlled, restrained, or questioned, it was necessary that prostitutes exist to ensure the safety of other women from men’s lust. Their existence in society permitted the home to remain a place untarnished by male sexual urges. Men could access brothels instead of bringing untoward behavior to the domestic sphere or forcing themselves upon unwilling victims.

Despite their crucial service these women provided, female sex workers were nonetheless considered quintessential sinners and were subject to scorn. In fact, the church perpetuated the image of the prostitute as a metaphor for the absolution of all sinners because, in their eyes, her sin was the gravest. The belief was that if the prostitute could find redemption, then so could any sinner (“Prostitution in Medieval Europe,” 249).

Although she was tolerated and served a purpose in society, the female sex worker was never accepted because she explicitly represents the sexuality that upright citizens seek to avoid. In medieval social hierarchy, the sex worker has the lowest status, constantly kept in check because of her dishonorable way of life. Again, Mazo Karras’s “Prostitution in

Medieval Europe” highlights a poignant truth of life for the sex worker:

While it may be true that a woman’s decision to enter prostitution has little to do with her own sexuality or morals, certainly the way society treats her, and hence the circumstances of her life as a prostitute, have everything to do with cultural notions about sex, gender, and sin. The prostitute as worker does not operate in a value-neutral market. Whatever economic power she may command as the seller of a desirable commodity is undermined by her lack of alternatives and by the way her choice of trade degrades her in her customers’ eyes and perhaps in her own (248).

Similar to how the sexuality of the paid prostitute had to be kept in check, the sexuality of a married woman was also scrutinized. Her erotic desire was essentially not legally hers

90 upon which to act freely. “The organization of the twelfth-century aristocratic household required both the control and the display of female sexuality,” explains Mazo Karras

(“Prostitution in Medieval Europe,” 357). Within the safe confines of the foyer, a woman’s sexuality is in reproductive labor and her sexual role is that of obedient mother and child-bearer. This brings us back to our adulterous bourgeois wife who breaks the sanctity of marriage by inviting her lover in the bed she shares with her husband. While the sex worker by trade is automatically recognized as a loose woman because of her visible sexuality, the wife (as with any upper-class woman) is able to mask her sexual transgressions because of her status and the expectations associated with her station that serve to conceal her sexuality. Due to her bourgeois status, the wife is assumed to be virtuous and moral. Society is not looking at her to act out and bring shame upon herself and her household. Her class masks her sexual affair so that she is eventually able to deceive even her husband, who can only vaguely detect that he has been tricked.

While the sexuality of both of these women would be subject to regulation, this fabliau makes it clear that women of a higher class had the means to circumvent social norms in order to fulfil their sexual desire. The sex worker would be unable to use ruses, like many women of French fabliaux, because it is impossible to separate herself from the image of her sexuality. Further, her proximity to sex and sexuality put her in a position to become a scapegoat for the crimes of others. Society would have no qualms accusing her of debauchery, while believing the bourgeois wife incapable of such lust, allowing the wife to dodge punishment and humiliation.

This immediately prompts questions of how class and social hierarchy come into play with female sexuality and desire in the fabliau. While the wealthy bourgeois wife gets off scot-free for her adultery and taboo sexual behavior, her “friend,” the sex worker,

91 bears the punishment and the repercussions of upper-class dalliances. “Les Treces” proves that class plays an important role in how female sexuality is portrayed in medieval literature. The implication of class status in “Les Treces” indicates that lower class women in medieval France were subject to harsher regulation and punishment for their sexuality, while upper-class women were freer and more able to act upon sexual desire outside of the marital bed. We see further evidence of this in several classic medieval romances such as Tristan et Iseut and Le Chevalier de la charrette where noble queens, in love with valiant knights, slip out of bed with their husbands and into the arms of their lovers. Even the Occitan romance, Flamenca, from Southern France features a noble heroine, locked into a marriage with a beastly husband, who seeks solace and romance in the arms of the dashing newcomer, Guillem. The same facility for extramarital affairs is not equaled by women of lower classes. Whereas aristocratic heroines had some measure of choice and ability to take a lover, lower-class women could not skirt legal and ecclesiastical law without grave consequences. 73 These women were additionally unable to deny higher-ranking men sexual access to their bodies (Sexuality in Medieval Europe,

146). For example, the medieval poetic genre known as Pastourelle is rife with examples of young shepherdesses being forced into sexual encounters with knights who, despite the women’s clear protests, envision their advances as welcome and pleasurable. Thinking highly of themselves and their status, the knights see their attention as elevating their peasant victims. Andreas Capellanus’ widely-known twelfth-century treatise on love, De amore, even goes as far as to claim that men are at liberty to take peasant women by force if the woman they desire is resisting their advances. He advises,

73 See chapter one of this work for a more detailed analysis of medieval romance heroines and the expression of female sexual desire in romance literature.

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And if you should, by some chance, fall in love with some of their women, be careful to puff them up with lots of praise and then, when you find a convenient place, do not hesitate to take what you seek and embrace them by force. For you can hardly soften their outward inflexibility so far that they will grant you their embraces quietly or permit you to have the solaces you desire unless first you use a little compulsion as a convenient cure for their shyness (150).

The implication behind his direction is that masculine force is needed to compel lower- class women to consent. With women of the high and simple nobility, Capellanus contends that love is something that must be gained slowly, over time, and always with the lady’s consent. Closely inspired by Capellanus’ treatise, French poet Drouart la

Vache offers similar counsel about men’s right to access lower-class female bodies in his thirteenth-century octosyllabic poem “Livres d’amours.” The author instructs,

Et, s’ainsi avient qu’il te preigne Talent d’amer fame vilaine, Se tu pues a bon point venir, Tu ne te dois mie tenir, Ains dois acomplir ton plaisir Tantost, sans querre autre loisir, Et a ton pooir t’en efforce, Se ce n’est ausint com afforce. Tu i venras a trop grant paine, Car c’est manière de vilaine Qui s’amour ne vieut otroier, Tant la sache .i. hom biau proier, Et que plus biau la proiera, Plus vilaine la trouvera. Si l’estuet .i. peu forçoier... (ll. 4519-33)74

74 And thus, if it happens that you are struck / With desire to love a peasant woman, / And if a good opportunity comes to you, / You do not have to restrain yourself at all. / You must accomplish your delight / Forthwith, without seeking another chance, / And with your strength force yourself, / So long as it is not too much like assault. / You will get her through much effort, / Because this is the way of peasants / Who do not like to consent to love. / One noble man knows this much of pillaging: / That the most noble will despoil her, / The baser he finds her. / If it is necessary one could force her...”

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He echoes the idea that peasant women desire for men to force themselves upon them with rape. This passage perpetuates and condones the common belief that peasant women who show signs of resistance in reality desire to be ravished, and that men of higher rank have a right to violate these women’s bodies. It is evident that female consent is irrelevant in regard to the sexual desire of noble men. Medieval attitudes about sexuality vary across class lines. Noble women are romanticized for their passionate affairs, while it appears that peasant women live in a world where their bodies are accessible to be sexually used by men against their will. Their sexual encounters depicted in literature is purely rape, while high-born heroines are wooed with the game of courtly love.

In “Les Treces,” class differences are revealed through the abuse and punishment that the prostitute endures for a crime that is not hers. Although the nature of her profession is inherently sexual and relies upon her female sexuality, in this fabliau she is innocent of the adultery that was a catalyst to the wife’s scheming. The bourgeois wife, like many romantic heroines, achieves her goal of tricking her husband and covering the traces of her affair. The audience even feels that such a silly husband perhaps deserves to be cuckolded by his cunning wife, whose actions provide ample humor for the audience’s enjoyment. The unfortunate sex worker, because of her station in life and her occupation, is forgotten amidst the comedic humor induced by the dysfunctional bourgeois marriage and the outlandish ruse.

In essence, this fabliau reveals that a woman from the right social circumstances often has the ability to transgress social and moral regulation on female sexuality.

Furthermore, her licentiousness is praised and applauded by medieval and even modern audiences who romanticize the amorous trysts of courtly love literature and other

94 medieval genres. Queens, nobility, and high-born ladies in medieval literature defy sexual conventions when they take on lovers. Meanwhile, peasant women, prostitutes, and women of humble origins are bound by a stricter adherence to codes of modesty and are held more responsible for their sexuality, which is under harsher social and religious scrutiny. They are more likely to find themselves victims of sexual violence. The prostitute, for example, is the embodiment of immoral female sexuality in medieval culture. In conspicuously representing female sexuality, she is a constant reminder of the threat women pose to male power and the possibility of her power as a temptress. For other women of low social rank, whose sexuality in medieval literature is not their own to manage, they are subjected to non-consensual sexual advances from powerful and self- interested men who force male sexuality upon them by rape while deluding themselves into thinking that their assault is welcome and desired by their female victims. While there were generally no qualms with these upper-class men violating peasant women, we know that the same would not be tolerated if low-class men violated the bodies of noble women. Class difference is evident as well in male sexual desire in the fact that “...men of various status groups did not mind if they had sex with women of other groups but objected strongly if men of subordinate groups took ‘their’ women” (Mazo Karras

Sexuality in Medieval Europe, 30). While group mixing was tolerated to an extent, any class mixing was a one-way male dominated street where men exclusively were able dally amongst inferior classes. Any transgression of peasant males aspiring to love a superior woman was not tolerated.75 In regard to male status, the disparate policing of

75 One exception to this would be the medieval knight in love with his queen. I argued in chapter one that his love of the higher-ranking woman represents his ambition to usurp his lord and king and his ambition for the power obtained through sexual possession of his superior’s wife. For more on this dynamic in medieval romance, see chapter one.

95 male sexuality shows that patriarchal authority is not a universal male right in medieval literature. Instead, male power, specifically where it pertains to female sexuality, remains under elite, hierarchical control. For women as well, inequalities exist that establish a clear pecking order of female sexuality that results in women’s complicity in the violation of female bodies. This women-against-women behavior, evident in “Les

Treces,” suggests that in literature women use other women as stepping stones to obtain more power and independence. The final section of this chapter is devoted to female ambition and violence in the romance Floriant et Florete. While “Les Treces” demonstrated class-based female-to-female manipulation and brutality, this second example provides another unique view into female sexuality and violence against women’s tresses and how hair can be used as a mechanism of power.

Female Ambition and Compulsory Heterosexuality in Floriant et Florete

The romance Floriant et Florete is a quintessential Arthurian romance dating to the end of the thirteenth century. The unknown author was inspired by the literary tradition of Chrétien de Troyes and drew from many elements of existing Arthurian legend. This medieval roman tells the tale of Floriant, raised by the fairy Morgan, and his quest to prove his merit and ultimately discover his true birthright as the rightful ruler of

Sicily. After delivering the newborn Floriant from danger, the fairy Morgan raised him as her own until he was old enough to prove his valor and reclaim his inheritance. As with his heroic forerunners before him, Floriant’s journey leads him through trials, obstacles, and variety of encounters. Pertinent to this analysis is the protagonist’s encounter with three maiden sisters and their dealings with a roguish knight. Floriant, guided on his journey by a mystical boat given to him by Morgan, discovers three sisters, whose father

96 has been killed by giants. Without the protection of their father, who was “dus de ceste terre,”76 the malicious giants have been free to ravage the land. Floriant challenges the giants in order to rescue the maidens from such a gruesome villainy and win them their liberty. After killing the giants, the young knight assures the ladies that he will escort them to Arthur’s court where they can remain and be safe:

Se vous voulez o moi venir, Dedens ma nef vous meterai Et au roi Artuz vous menrai. Se maris voulez espouser Certes, jel vous ferai doner. (ll. 1732-6)77

The noble ladies, lacking the authority of their father, readily place themselves in the knight’s care until he can hand them over to the protection of King Arthur and see them safely married off to worthy bachelors of his court. Now, safely guided by an honorable knight, the sisters are immediately willing to surrender themselves to his will. The eldest of them acts as spokeswoman and tells Floriant, “De nos poés apertement / Fere vostre comandement” (ll. 1727-8).78 So the group sets off in Floriant’s boat until they encounter

“.i. chastel de trop grant biauté” (l. 1745).79 They encounter a reprobate knight inside the fortress. In an unparalleled gesture, the knight demands tribute from Floriant and the maidens for their trespass. Floriant is taken aback by this unexpected command.

Belement li a respondu: “Sire, fait il, dites moi quel.

76 “Duke of this land” 77 “If it pleases you to come with me, / I will take you in my boat / And deliver you to King Arthur. / If you would like to take husbands, / Without doubt, I will give them to you.” 78 “With us you may freely / Do your will.” 79 “A remarkably beautiful castle.”

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Onques en chastel n’en ostel Ne paiai onques treüage! – Foi que je doi a mon visage, Fet cil, vous le me paierez, Quar les treces me laisserez Des puceles qui o vous sont! – Par Dieu, le verai roi del mont, Fet Floriant, ja nes avrez S’ançois ne sui mos ou outrez!” (ll. 1768-78)80

The rogue knight demands the maidens’ long braids in payment for their trespass. Not only is this knight’s denial to host the group uncourtly, the singularity of his desire for hair is shocking. Even Floriant is outraged at the knight’s audacity. He prepares to fight for the maidens’ honor, eventually overpowering his opponent. The only explanation of the rogue knight’s demand for tresses is offered after Floriant’s triumph. The scoundrel explains the reason behind his improper demand:

– Sire, fet il, jel vous dirai Ne ja ne vous en mentirai Voirs est, j’ai une dame amee, Si vous di q’en nule contree N’a si bele, ce m’est avis. Quant vit que iere si soupris Si me dist ja s’amor n’avroie De si a donc que j’averoie Tant de tresses de damoiseles Ou de dames ou de puceles C’est une tente em peüssions fere. Encor me dist autre contrere Que ja tresses ne coperoient Se de seles non qui avroient Chevalier a conduiseor. S’en ai ja copees plusor.

80 “Calmly he replies, / ‘Sir,’ he says, ‘tell me what kind. / Never before in any castle or home / Have I ever paid tribute.’ / ‘By my head,’ / The other one responds, ‘You will pay it to me. / Indeed, you will leave me the tresses / Of the maidens who are with you!’ / ‘By God, the true King of earth,’ / Floriant says, ‘Never will you have them / Unless I am killed or vanquished!’”

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Plus de .IIJ.C, ce m’est avis, Dont j’ai les chevaliers conquis Et si dedens emprisonnez. Or est ensi : conquis m’avez, Fere em poez vostre plaisir, Il le me couvenra sousfrir, Mes, por Dieu, ne m’ociez mie, Je me met en vostre baillie! (ll.1861-83)81

The peculiarity of the knight’s situation is undeniable. To earn the love of the woman he desires he must offer an undisclosed number of braids cut from the heads of women and maidens. As no further details are provided, we can only speculate as to why a noble lady would wish to ornament her abode with hair, and what she gains from such an arrangement. I argue here that her collection of braids serves as a kind of trophy, representing her victory over other women and making her feel like she is the best and most powerful woman of all. For her love-struck knight, cutting the hair of innocent women symbolically brings him closer to the woman he desires carnally. Again, there is an erotic component to the cutting of women’s hair: the knight needs the braids to win his lady and fulfil his lust, while the lady needs the hair in order to be open and accepting to her knight’s love. This would indicate that feeling powerful and dominant is the only thing that turns her on and that disfiguring any potential opponent is how she maintains control. The additional stipulation that the braids must come from women and girls under

81 “— Sir, he states, I will tell you / Without lying to you about it: / The truth is, I loved a woman. / I tell you that in no land / Is there one more beautiful, in my opinion. / When she saw me utterly smitten / She told me that I would never have her love / Until I had / Enough braids of demoiselles / Or of ladies, or of maidens / So that we could make a tent with them. / She then set an additional difficulty for me: / That the braids would not be cut / Except from those who had / A knight to protect them. / I have cut many of them, / More than three hundred, I believe. / The knights I conquered, / Are here, imprisoned. / Now it is thus: you have conquered me, / And can do as you please with me. / I have nothing left to say, / But, by God, do not kill me, / I surrender myself to your will!”

99 the protection of a knight indicates the sadistic lady’s desire to see her knight triumph in combat over other men to win access to the females. These women, like spoils of war, once seized by the victor, are his to do with as he pleases. In vanquishing Floriant, the rogue knight would have cut the sisters’ braids symbolizing his ownership of their bodies and sexuality. The fact that he gives the severed braids to his lady demonstrates that he surrenders this ownership over their bodies to her. This gives her the status of the triumphant knight. The strange lady masculinizes herself and behaves in a manner to promote male power to the detriment of her fellow woman.

The episode with the three sisters in Floriant et Florete provides a classic example of women as property exchanged from man to man in medieval French literature as discussed in detail in chapter one. The sisters, no longer under the protection of their dead father, find themselves in imminent danger caused by the presence of two giants.

They require a strong knight (Floriant) to come and deliver them from the giants’ dominion. After eliminating the threat, Floriant vows to protect and guard the women until they arrive at King Arthur’s court, where he will then hand them over to the protection and guardianship of the king. From there, the king would arrange marriages for the sisters so that they could each have a husband to look after them. The implication is that without this noble and proper male guardianship, women are prey to the dangers of the world. The threat that these sisters experience from the giants exemplifies one component of Adrienne Rich’s notion of compulsory heterosexuality, that women are compelled into heterosexual marriages because they need the safety, protection, and shelter provided by men. Specifically, women fear that without the protection of a man, they are in more danger of being raped by sexual predators. Rich argues that rape is a form of terrorism that confines women to certain spaces where they feel safe from

100 danger, keeping them from moving freely in public and in need of male protection and dominion (639). The sisters trapped by the two giants in Floriant et Florete exemplify women who have lost protection and safety provided only by men. Their subsequent encounter with the rogue knight threatens to put the women in the precarious position of being vulnerable once again.

If we analyze the knight’s request for the maidens’ hair isolated from his lady’s involvement, there are links to Rich’s ideas of male power and of women as articles of male exchange. The knight’s desire is shocking and indecent because of the correlation between female hair and their sexuality. His demand for a tribute of hair is a metaphorical command that these women be surrendered to him for his sexual pleasure. Defeating

Floriant would have left the women without a protector and escort, and in the exact situation outlined by Rich where women become victims to sexual terrorism. Just as

Floriant and the women are ignorant of the lady masterminding the planned violence off scene, the audience has no indication of the knight’s ulterior motives for his demand.

They would therefore likely interpret this incident as one in which sexual violence against the sisters is probable. The protection that Floriant provides the three women ensures that they are safe from perverts, rapists, and any man wishing to steal their honor and do them harm. The romantic hero fills a role in the plot that permits these women to move safely through the world, exemplifying Rich’s theory of compulsory heterosexuality. The effect that this heroism would have on its intended audience is significant. Through the trope of the honorable knight, defender of feminine virtue, this medieval romance perpetuates Rich’s second criteria of male power. She explains that male sexuality, power, and heterosexuality is forced upon women through an array of actions including violence, the threat of violence and even through the “idealization of

101 heterosexual romance in art, literature, media, advertising...” and so on (638-9). By idealizing and romanticizing the rescue and defense of these sisters, passed from man to man until they are finally delivered into a charming and pleasant marriage, this medieval text provides evidence of how male power is disseminated through popular literature.

While courtly love literature as a whole unquestionably favors heterosexuality, this particular romance aptly illustrates Gayle Rubin’s view of “women as exchanged goods”

(“The Traffic in Women,” 174). This, in tandem with Rich’s understanding of rape as a scare tactic meant to ensure that women require men’s protection therefore forcing heterosexual relationships upon them, show how literature can both reflect and shape social norms. The intention of romance literature is to provide a diverting story, able to captivate audiences. As a result, narrative elements influence culture to either shape change or maintain convention. The narrative elements in this episode of Floriant et

Florete promote male interests by propagating male power.

The rogue knight is in a position to overpower women by demeaning them through cutting their hair. The dishonor that he has already caused for 300 women witnesses his desire to wield power over them. Cutting their braids symbolically represents his dominance over their sexuality and his superiority over the men in charge of them. As the possessor of the sheared hair, he does more than illustrate that these women hold no power over their own sexuality; according to the tradition of male power discussed by Rich, in a male-centered, patriarchal society, these women never had control over their sexuality to begin with. It is the fathers, brothers, husbands, and protectors who exchange these women from hand to hand that consequently control female sexuality. In cutting women’s hair, the knight proves his supremacy over the male protectors by stealing their economic capital, i.e. women, from them.

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It should not be forgotten that the malevolent knight’s female lover is the architect of the disturbing violence in Floriant et Florete. The prestige she gains, in addition to disturbing ornamentation for her abode, is twofold. On one hand she is guaranteed that her lover had proven his dominance over countless other men and symbolically tainted their goods by clipping the braids of their innocent wives, daughters, and ladies. She is therefore allied with a partner capable of accruing status, power, and goods, since women are treated as economic capital by men. The knight’s ability to steal the plaits of numerous females signifies his ability to succeed and profit over his peers. On the other hand, her command and the knight’s subsequent obedience illustrate that she is a woman with some independence and power over her own sexuality. By taking on a masculine role and ordering her lover to fulfil her demand she exploits the bondage of other women subject to male dominance. Her collection of female braids are trophies attesting her lover’s victory over other men and, in the end, her dominance over her lover. Her desire for autonomy in a male-centered society has her turned against women, seeking her own advancement at the expense of her fellow woman.

Adrienne Rich would classify this woman’s behavior as being male-identified, meaning that her actions and behavior further the advancement of patriarchy and preserve the inferiority of women. She is willing to see her sex brought low by men, exchanged as goods, in order that she be empowered by it. Furthermore, her empowerment acts as an aphrodisiac, for it is only after her collection has sated her desire that she will accept her lover in her bed. The lady buys into patriarchy by upholding male subjectivity and female objectivity. She takes on a masculine role of dominator of women instead of acting against this type of “male tyranny” (Rich 649).

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French philosopher Simone de Beauvoir argues that men and maleness are established as the norm stating that throughout history, “He is the Subject, he is the

Absolute—she is the Other” (44). Her argument situates women as “other” in a setting of institutionalized male superiority. She explains that “Legislators, priests, philosophers, writers, and scientists have striven to show that the subordinate position of woman is willed in heaven and advantageous on earth. The religions invented by men reflect this wish for domination” (49). The status quo observed by de Beauvoir is that men have positioned themselves as the standard and defined “woman” as lacking “manness.” Men are the subject while woman has been their object. De Beauvoir’s main concern is addressing the changes necessary to see that women are able to transcend. She interprets the lack of female solidarity, across race, religion, and class, as a major deterrent to female transcendence, that is, women rising from a position of object to that of subject

(47). One part of the problem is that women more readily identify with males of their class, race, and religion than they do their fellow woman across those identity groups. De

Beauvoir calls this “the bond that unites her to her oppressors” (47). The ambitious lady behind the brutality to women in Floriant et Florete exemplifies how female action serves this bond and preserves a state of male transcendence and female immanence. She has chosen to adopt masculine qualities and see herself transcend through the objectification of woman. Her victims are left in a cycle of weakness, evincing de

Beauvoir’s definition of the “truly feminine,” that is, the “frivolous, infantile, irresponsible—the submissive woman” (51). These male-given stereotypes of women contribute to the idea that women need men to guide, protect, and chaperone them through life. Woman’s continual inability to subvert the objectivity and violence she is subjected to is deemed proof that she is unable to control herself and protect her

104 sexuality. It is in this regard that the lady in this medieval romance supports male dominance and female subjugation. Her lover’s trial at Arthur’s court further attests to male-centeredness that preserves patriarchal dominance.

At Floriant’s command, the rogue knight releases the three hundred knights he holds captive and delivers himself to King Arthur for judgement. In front of Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, he divulges his tale of slashing tresses, and the motivation behind his crime. He explains that crime was one of love, intended to satisfy his beloved. It was his lady who demanded the tresses for her tent, and it was she who insisted that the braids come from women protected by a knight. His willingness to submit to judgement appears to have softened the jury. Gauvain is touched by his romantic devotion saying before Arthur,

Seignor, fet il, je jugerai, Ne ja de mot n’i mespenrai: En ma raison vous di pour voir Que ja n’en doit nul mal avoir Cis chevaliers que je voi la, Des que s’amie l’em pria. Quar bien vous di cel n’aime mie Qui refuse riens a s’amie Qu’ele li voille commander Que que il li doie couster. (ll. 2005-12)82

In the end, the villainous knight goes unpunished for his crimes against more than three hundred women. Arthur approves of Gauvain’s logic and they release the knight. This judgement is remarkably male-centered, favoring the knight over all the women he has

82 “Lords, he said, I conclude / Never will I think one ill word. / In my opinion I truthfully say to you / That never should any harm come to / This knight that I see here, / Since his beloved entreated him to do it. / Indeed, I tell you that one does not at all favor / He who refuses something of his beloved / That she had demanded of him / No matter what it costs him.”

105 harassed and violated. Arthur and his knights are clearly seeking male advancement over justice, to the detriment of women. Nothing is indicated about punishing the knight’s lady for her unjust request. Because the pair’s actions ultimately perpetuate the ideology of women as male property and supported female inferiority and dependence their severity of their crime against women is downplayed and brushed aside for the plot to advance.

Seen as the product of compulsory heterosexuality, the braids of the three hundred women snipped by the malevolent knight remain, in Rich’s terms, “beachhead[s] of male dominance” (633). These plaits are additionally trophies for the malicious lady to remember the power gained on her account.

This small scene in Floriant et Florete supplies a wealth of information about male and female hierarchies in medieval society. The recurring handoff of the three sisters from man to man resembles a basketball game where the ball is being passed from player to player around the court. These women are little more than objects to the men transferring them over and over throughout the narrative. The threat of their hair being shorn from their heads symbolizes the possibility of sexual violence and underscores the fact that these women are defenseless against sexual predators. This precarious situation also reveals how, while they appear and feel safe with an honorable knight like Floriant, the reality is that they are still just pawns to be given away in marriage to some unknown knight in need of a wife later on down the road. While Floriant is defending their honor and protecting them from rape in this scene, he will eventually grant sexual access to a man of his approval. These sisters have no power over their bodies regardless of whether the knight claims their tresses or whether Floriant delivers them to Arthur’s court. There is only the semblance of protection and safety with the hero. The inclusion of hair in this scene adds an element of sexuality to the tale, suggesting the sort of violence envisioned

106 by the hostile knight. An attack on female hair is an attack against what is essentially female: that which biologically differentiates the male and female sexes. De Beauvoir states, “And she is simply what man decrees; thus, she is called ‘the sex,’ by which is meant that she appears essentially to the male as a sexual being. For him she is sex— absolute sex, no less” (44). Because woman is “other,” her sex and her sexuality are braided together to shape her identity against a standard which is male. The ornamental trophy plaits in this romance are the ultimate evidence of who wields power over whom on the social hierarchy. To a contemporary female audience, they are a reminder of the dangers attending women who lack proper protection from men. This short scene subtly forces heterosexuality upon its audience while delivering a diverting tale of heroism and

Arthurian justice.

Female ambition and desire for power allowed a situation where one woman’s actions abused numerous other women. Adrienne Rich discusses this spiteful behavior and tendency for women to behave in ways that promote the advancement of men over their own sex. Turning women against women is one vital component of male power.

Intersex competitiveness and distrust partly explains de Beauvoir’s statement that women have no sense of group identity because

Women lack concrete means for organizing themselves into a unit which can stand face to face with the correlative unit. They have no past, no history, no religion of their own... They live dispersed among the males, attached through residence, housework, economic condition, and social standing to certain men— fathers or husbands—more firmly than they are to other women (47).

The malicious lady in Floriant et Florete whose self-interest motivates her to collect the hair of dishonored and victimized women exemplifies the consequence of women lacking a unifying history or myth. The absence of female unity and compulsory heterosexuality

107 ensure that female characters in literature remain male-centered. The lady exhibits elements of male power from sexual, emotional, and economic access to female bodies.

She sought to empower herself by accessing typical channels of male dominance, employing a male accomplice to achieve her goal. In the same vein as the jealous husbands studied in this chapter, this woman exploited female hair and sexuality as a tool for dominance and as a method of forcing shame upon the female body.

Conclusion

Incidences of violence against women’s hair in medieval literature reveals the tangled relations between female sexuality, class and gender hierarchies, and hegemonic male power in medieval culture. Both men and women employ violence to exploit female hair as a locus of female sexuality in order to demean and overpower female literary characters. Analysis of these instances of violence reveals key information about female sexuality during the Middle Ages. The examples of violence considered here show how class-based and domestic violence and a lack of female solidarity are linked to compulsory heterosexuality, the exchange of women as market goods, male hegemony, and female objectivity.

Class plays an important role in how female sexuality is portrayed and treated in literature. While women overall are understood as inherently sexual beings, capable of seduction, scandal, and deception, women of the upper class are more likely to be shielded from the negative associations of sex during the period. These elite women are camouflaged by their class status and seemingly protected by various men who are responsible for their purity and morality. Less-fortunate women are prey to whichever men desire to claim sexual access to their bodies, especially men of a higher class. These

108 women must be seen as having less economic value compared to high-born ladies whose worth is directly dependent on their virtue. Exchanged like goods from man to man, a virtuous woman will have higher value on the marriage market and ensure that male bonds are solidified into family ties through kinship and marriage. Aristocratic ladies and women of means are subject to different treatment in medieval literature in regard to their sexuality and sexual access to their bodies. In romance these women are wooed into love with the show of courtly love. Romance holds passionate love in the highest esteem, often over bonds of marriage, permitting heroines like Guinevere and Iseut to transgress sexual norms and cuckold their sovereign husbands. Despite their higher-economic worth and romantic seductions, chapter one demonstrated how these women are equally used as tools for male dominance and prestige. Underneath the guise of courtly love, these women are little more than pawns in male hegemonic culture and their hair serves as a vessel for male erotic pleasure. In other genres, like the fabliaux, the sexual misdeeds of upper-class women appear comedic, as they turn their clueless husbands into laughingstocks with their cunning trickery. Or, in the allegorical romance La Roman de la rose, the domestic abuse between a jealous husband and his ostentatious wife is regarded as run-of-the-mill folly by their unaffected neighbors.

This ability to transgress moral codes does not carry over to women of lower status. Their class positions them to have even fewer liberties than their more entitled female counterparts. This is evident in the medieval treatises on love by Drouart La

Vache and his predecessor Andreas Capellanus. These essays on love grant noble men free access to the sexuality of peasant women, even if they are required to use force. The inability to escape unwanted advances is well documented in the medieval poetic genre

Pastourelle, where young shepherdesses are accosted and raped by passing knights who

109 delude themselves into thinking that rape is desired by their victims. In the fabliau “Les

Treces,” another lower-class woman is victim to the aggressions of a wealthy, bourgeois man. This fabliau illustrates how disregarded someone like a sex worker would have been in medieval society. Her value is considerably lower than that of the bourgeois wife because her occupation already equates that her image is tarnished. There is no doubt that she is a sinful woman, therefore, her body is easily exploited to carry the punishment of her well-to-do friend. Just as the female prostitute became the icon of all sinners in the view of the church, this literary sex worker takes on the sin of other another woman while she remains blameless. The propensity for females to toss each other to the wolves in order to achieve self-interested gain ensures that they remain unable to transcend the subject/object binary. The lack of comradery and mutual support prevents women from being woman-turned instead of male-turned. While upper-class women may rise in status and power under this scheme, peasant women and other women of lower status are unable to break the chains that bind them.

The power women gain from degrading their fellow woman is menial. They are still subject to male hegemonic power, which outranks any dominance they gain through their own misogynistic behavior. The cruel lady in Floriant et Florette defiles the bodies of women by requesting their braids be forcefully removed so that she can use them as decorative trophies. This allows her to shame other women sexually, making them appear to be impure. She may go as far as to have her knight sexually assault them. She feels worthier and more empowered when her knight delivers her the tresses of her competition. Compulsory heterosexuality pushes women to feel competitive against one another over men. This prevents them from forming bonds of solidarity amongst themselves and encourages them to form bonds with males instead. Due to its literary

110 origin, this female to female violence further disseminates compulsory heterosexuality to its audience by weaving a narrative where young women need the bravery and protection of noble men to keep them safe from dangers like giants, perverted knights, and malevolent and conniving women. Compulsory heterosexuality is a beachhead for male dominance; perpetuating male-turned ideology through media, literature, art, and more is a subtle, peaceful way to maintain hegemony. Women transcending, becoming subjects in their own right, and gaining power poses a real threat to male dominance. When women begin to push the boundaries, and men feel the pressure of their transgressions, conflict can arise, and violence ensues.

Jealousy over female sexuality results from extramarital affairs in “Les Treces” and Le Roman de la rose. The two enraged husbands failed to maintain control over their women’s sexuality and explode under the loss of power. Grappling to reassert their dominance over the domestic sphere, they unleash their anger on their wives. Symbolic of the sexual nature of the women’s misdeeds, the husbands rip, pull, and cut their wives’ hair in attempt to publicly shame them. This abuse shows how women are seen as male property and how their behavior is subjected to their husband’s law. Their transgression reflects upon the husband and reveals his lack of power within the smallest, micro hierarchy: the domestic sphere. His lack of authority and emasculation in the home weighs negatively into his standing among other men outside of the home within the larger, social hierarchy. If he has no power at home than he cannot expect to wield power within his community. Female sexuality may seem trivial, but the reality is that an untamed woman can topple a man from his social standing. Marriage and the domestic sphere are intimate institutions that form the home base of male dominance. If there are enough instances of subversion at this basic level, then other institutions of male power,

111 such as the church and government, are threatened to topple. It is for this reason that control of female sexuality is critical. In private, physical abuse and marital rape are utilized as tools to prevent women from gaining ground over their husbands at home. In the social sphere, women are threatened with public humiliation to maintain their compliance with male dominance and guarantee their virtuous behavior. Women who are charged with sexual misdeeds are likely to find their hair shorn from their heads, like the unfortunate sex worker in “Les Treces.” Both publicly and privately, female hair is a locus for punishment and correction. The message conveyed by this violence to hair is that it is specifically women’s sexuality which poses a threat to male power. The removal of hair is intended to reflect the nature of the woman’s crime. The visibility of this punishment cautions other women to remain submissive and obedient to men.

Women in medieval French literature are shepherded into heterosexual marriage and male dominance through the semblance of protection and assurance to secure male bonds and reinforce male power. While aristocratic literary heroines like Guinevere and

Iseut seek romance outside of the marital bed, ordinary female characters are plagued with the risk and repercussions of subverting male dominance. Women are forced to resolve the threat of sexual violence within their communities through marital bonds and are severely punished for erring from their domestic subservience. Taking a husband as a male protector comes with advantages for women. It ensures that she not fall victim to other male predators because she is already “owned” by her husband. Any attack on her would be interpreted as an attack on the man to whom she belongs. The advantage of having a capable male protector is illustrated by Floriant and the three sisters. The protection he provides the women prevents them from becoming victims to sexual violence and safeguards their virtue. Floriant’s defense of the sisters’ hair communicates

112 that the women and their sexuality are under his dominion (protection) until he hands them over to another man for safekeeping.

The violence and punishment to female hair in these medieval narratives underscores the significance of hair as an external reflection of internal morality and female sexuality. Men seek justice upon women’s hair when they find that their women have sought pleasure with other men. This often legally sanctioned abuse shows women treated as male possessions and evinces their lack of freedom to do as they please with their sexuality. Women are as a result faced with pressure from social institutions to accept a position of objectivity and status as “other” in order to avoid physical harm and other punishments. Women’s hair as a sign of their sexuality becomes tangled with male power and dominance through intimate violence. Forceful removal of hair evokes images of rape and sexual violence, both tools of male power. Outside of the domestic sphere, cutting women’s hair suggests this kind of oppressive violence. Literary instances of shorn and torn tresses communicate female status and position in medieval society as secondary and imminent via their controlled and supervised sexuality. While violence against hair once again reflects patriarchal hegemony, the next chapter explores the possibility of female subversion through the organized deployment of hair and head coverings to serve female interests, find emotional healing, criticize feudalism’s unfair system of justice, and gain independence and protection.

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Chapter Three Tendrils of Subversion: Female Sexuality Untangled and Unbound

Introduction

Previous chapters looked at women’s hair as a locus for male power and sexual desire, but here I explore instances of subversion in French narrative where women make deliberate choices to advance their status and position or offer a female-centered opposition to patriarchal dominance. The four primary texts analyzed below, the Occitan romance, Flamenca, two lais of Marie de France, Eliduc and Lanval, and the Arthurian romance, Le Bel inconnu, unveil two possible scenarios in medieval French literature where women exhibit the capacity to act against popular culture, the male exchange of women, and masculine dominance. Against the backdrop of the Church and religion, women find the opportunity use their piety to act out and serve their own interests while appearing to conform to the image of the devout, godly woman. The Otherworld and fairy ladies of that realm are likewise adept at achieving their goals and putting their interests and desires before those of men. Otherworldly women masterfully and aggressively wield their sexuality as a weapon and face off against tyrant kings and inadequate lovers, while my two examples of godly women exercise what is described by

Pam Whitfield as “a more spiritual, passive power” (243). Through examples of both soft and hard power, this chapter sheds light on how patriarchal norms, normative sexuality,

114 and male rule can be subverted with examples of literary heroines employing their hair and head-coverings (or lack thereof) to achieve their objectives.

Feminist medievalist Nora Cottille-Foley proposes that women’s writing can

“offer precisely the possibility of questioning and revising” reigning hegemonies of male dominance (153). This is undoubtedly true in the œuvre of female author Marie de

France, but it is also within the realm of possibility to envision existing examples of female characters, penned by men, who appear to play by the rules while actually subverting gender and sexual norms. In fact, Jane Burns has thoroughly explored this possibility in medieval fabliaux in one of her books, Body Talk: When Women Speak in

Old French Literature. My analysis follows in the same vein arguing that the gender and sexual orientation of the author does not impede the ability for female transcendence in the De Beauvoirian sense of the term. On the contrary, I argue that it is the contextualized situations of the heroines, religious or Otherworldly, that permit them to become female- oriented and/or undermine male rule.

In Marie de France’s Eliduc, a dejected wife rises above the misfortune brought upon her by her husband’s wandering lust and exemplifies true caritas, sorority, and mercy, ceding her position to her husband’s new, younger, beloved. This heroine’s female-centered action improves not only the happiness of the princess who has captured the husband’s heart, but it also elevates her own status and standing in the community, carving a space for her to gain more authority, control, and freedom than was previously available to her. The second example of religious subversion takes place in the Church during mass service. In the Occitan romance, Flamenca, the eponymous heroine arranges an adulterous tryst with her lover directly in front of her roguish husband’s eyes and the eyes of all churchgoers through the careful manipulation of her head-covering so that she

115 may covertly exchange words with her soon-to-be lover, who is posing as a church clerk.

Together they pervert the sanctity of the Church and dupes her ridiculous husband in order to find the pleasure and attention she has lacked in her marriage. In the lai Lanval and the romance Le Bel inconnu, two dazzling fairy queens teach their lovers harsh lessons in love and obedience, creating an uncomfortable tension between love and chivalric duty. The fairy lady in Lanval triumphantly demonstrates herself to be superior to Arthur and his worldly court while the beguiling and mystical fairy in Le Bel inconnu brazenly declares her desire, chastises her misbehaving love object, and banishes him when he does not submit to her will. These outspoken women reveal themselves and their powers to be above those of mortal men and kings.

Chapters one and two argued that medieval social norms dictated certain behavior, approved roles, and mandatory subservience for women both rich and poor.

Analyzing the institution of marriage in Medieval France, celebrated historian Georges

Duby said, “It is a fact that in this society, women never emerged from the strictest subordination” (Medieval Marriage 6). While Duby appears to be spot on in his observation of true medieval French society, this chapter illustrates that literary heroines are sometimes able to find avenues of subversion that perhaps remained unavailable to actual women during that period. The popularity of these narratives speaks to the potential for these texts and these subversive women to become mainstream and eventually normalized. The medieval woman had the ability to wield limited power, but through literature, the image of a woman with significant independence and resolve was formed and propagated. As a cultural production, literature not only remains as a cultural witness, but it also pushes and sways that culture to shift and evolve by presenting ideas that challenge dominant views and hegemonies.

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Holy Hair: The Veil as a Source of Female Empowerment in Eliduc

Marie de France’s twelfth-century collection of lais comprise verse narratives of varying length, interwoven with common themes and motifs. Although clues to her identity are for the most part speculation, feminist overtones and intentions are commonly attributed to her work. Indeed, Cottille-Foley identifies the link between

Marie’s “feminist” agenda and patriarchy: “The signs of women’s power should be taken seriously in Marie’s lais. Feminine power is an area where her writing entertains a tense relationship with the social reality of her time” (168). Her œuvre engages topics of courtly love, Breton and Celtic folklore, Arthuriana, and other familiar legends concerning the aristocracy, often appearing to lend agency to female characters. The twelve lais credited to her exist together in one manuscript, London, British Library,

Harley 978. The final and longest, lai in the Harley manuscript, Eliduc, recounts the story of a married knight who unintentionally falls in love with and plans to marry a young princess. The would-be polygamous knight, Eliduc, finds himself caught between two courts and two women. Ultimately, the knight’s first wife sacrifices her position and the security of her marriage to clear the way for her husband to lawfully wed his younger love. By taking the veil, she eliminates herself as a sexual object of male exchange and not only opens new possibilities to dictate her own life, but also negotiates to be given command over her own religious convent and thirty individuals in her order. Her favor and sympathy to the young, foreign princess exemplify a female-centered bond that will endure throughout the two women’s lives. Through the character of the wife-turned-nun,

Guildeluëc, Marie de France illustrates that by covering oversexualized hair, space can be

117 found for women to subvert sexual objectification and the male exchange of women while reorienting themselves to female-advancing action. In Eliduc, the cloister is a locus of female power flourishing within the umbrella of the male-dominated religious sphere.

This suggests that Marie de France worked within the patriarchal system to manipulate power hierarchies instead of attempting to deconstruct and splinter existing social paradigms and institutions. Eliduc is just one of her lais promoting strong female bonds and the power of female community working in harmony for the advocacy of female goals.

Conflict first arises in Eliduc’s harmonious marriage when he is exiled by his seignur for no apparent reason.83 He departs Brittany with a pledge of fidelity to his wife,

Guildeluëc, and sets sail with his men, seeking to sell his services to another ruler. Near

Exeter, Eliduc finds uns huem mult poëstis...vielz e anciëns who lacks a male heir.84 He has only his young, beautiful daughter, Guilliadun, in need of a proper husband. Eliduc pledges a year of service to the king and soon finds himself invited to pay court to the maiden princess. The king encourages his daughter to treat Eliduc well, indicating that he is open and favorable to a union between the two (Cottile-Foley 172). After a stimulating first encounter, Amur makes Guilliadun fall in love with the foreign knight: “Amurs I lance sun message / Ki la somunt de lui aimer; / Palir la fist e suspirer” (ll. 304-6).85 For his part, Eliduc tries to resist the temptation of loving the attractive princess, reminding himself of the commitment he has to his wife back in his homeland. But young

83 This example of an unreliable and capricious king is not unique to Eliduc. Marie de France will present male weakness via inadequate ruling in another lai, Lanval, analyzed below. 84 A powerful... very old lord. 85 “Love launches his message / That exhorts her to love him, / Making her go pale and sigh.”

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Guilliadun is persistent and intent upon winning him over. The truth is that Eliduc has much to gain in reciprocating her love. His status and importance at home have been effaced by his former king, and now he sees potential to start fresh in a land where he is honored and respected and where he will eventually, if bound through marriage to

Guilliadun, inherit a kingdom to rule:

Se par amur me vuelt amer E de sun cors asseürer, Jeo ferai trestut son plaisir, Si l’en peut granz biens avenir, De cest terre sera reis. Tant par est sages e curteis, Que, s’il ne m’aime par amur, Murir m’estuet a grant dolur. (ll. 343-50)86

The key element of this passage is the possibility for Eliduc to inherit his new seignur’s title and kingdom. For a banished and mistreated knight, this offer is hard to resist. In a previous chapter I discussed in detail how marriage solidifies male bonds and how romance advances male status. This same idea is promoted by Georges Duby throughout his historical research in regard to romantic triangles of courtly love between lord, lady, and vassal. Eliduc’s situation, on the other hand, reconfigures the romantic triangle so that it is not vassal versus seignur with a married woman as prize, but a married knight prevented from obtaining an eligible bride because of his former marital contract. Eliduc would be perfectly poised to take advantage of this matrimonial exchange and male bonding, were it not for the little problem of his wife, faithfully awaiting his return, in

86 “If he wants to truly love me / And guarantee his heart / I will do everything to please him. / Much good can come to him; / He will be king of this country. / He is so talented and courteous, / That, if he does not truly love me, / There is nothing left for me but to die of great sorrow.”

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Brittany. The knight’s attraction to Guilliadun is surely linked to her status as princess of the realm and daughter of a king with no heirs. The father’s desperation to marry her off is evident in his initial description where the author states, “Charnel heir madle nen aveit;

/ Une fille ot a meriër” (ll.94-5).87 Luce Irigaray argues that “Women are marked phallically by their fathers, husbands, procurers. And this branding determines their value in sexual commerce. Woman is never anything but the locus of a more or less competitive exchange between two men...” (This Sex Which Is Not One, 31-2).

Guilliadun’s value is in her sexual potential to perpetuate the family line and the power that comes with an alliance with her father. Duby explains that women were valuable objects of negotiation and alliance between feudal houses.

In order to maintain the power, the head of house married out his daughters to build alliances with other houses...This surplus of marriageable women, compared with the lack of males able to marry, created an environment ripe for social climbing where eldest sons would seek a bride of higher fortune or rank (Medieval Marriage 10-11).

At this point in the narrative there appears to be a traditional heteronormative, male- centered romantic triangle situating Eliduc as the man between the two women,

Guilliadun and Guildeluëc. Cottile-Foley views the romantic triangle as a site of conflict in Marie’s literature, pointing to social pressure pitting women against each other in rivalry (154, 156). Enmity typifies the anticipated friction between the two women, should they ever become known to each other. Surprisingly, when the revelations occur, neither woman reacts as expected with jealousy or spite.

The princess, Guilliadun, is told of Eliduc’s living wife while on board his ship, returning to Brittany after absconding her father’s land with him. During a perilous

87 “He had no male heir of blood relation; / He had a daughter to be married.”

120 storm, which is interpreted as God’s punishment for Eliduc’s intended bigamy, a sailor reveals the truth to the princess. Eliduc executes the truth-telling sailor and throws his body overboard while Guilliadun faints, falling into a comatose state. Once home, the anguished Eliduc places his beloved’s body in a chapel in the woods and spends his days by her side in mourning. Curious and despondent, Guildeluëc discovers his husband’s whereabouts and steals away to see the woman who has stolen Eliduc’s heart. Her reaction upon discovering the princess is remarkable. Guildeluëc’s initial response to seeing Guilliadun is closer to that of an amorous lover than that of a jealous wife (Cottile-

Foley 173).

Quant en la chapele est entree Et vit le lit a la pucele, Ki resemblot rose nuvele, Del cuvertur la descovri E vit le cors tant eschevi, Les braz luns e blanches les meins E les deiz grailes, luns e pleins. Or set ele la verité, Pur quei sis sire a duel mené. (ll. 1010-18)88

Sight plays a key role in Guildeluëc’s treatment of her husband’s young love.

Vision is also the basis of Eliduc’s love for Guilliadun and her returned love for him. In fact, sight was the cornerstone to all medieval love. Michael Camille discusses the fact that love in the Middle Ages was dependent upon sight (208). Desire and visuality are irrevocably tied together in the medieval imagination. Medieval love guru, Andreas

Capellanus, even states that “Blindness is a bar to love, because a blind man cannot see

88 “When she entered into the chapel / And saw the maiden, who resembled a fresh rose / Upon the bed, / Uncovered the shroud from her / And saw the shapely body, / The long arms and white hands / And her fingers, thin, long, and clear, / Now she knew the truth / Of why her husband was mourning.”

121 anything upon which his mind can reflect immoderately, and so love cannot arise in him,” (33). According to Capellanus, love requires sight so that the subject in love may properly reflect upon their desired object. It is clear in Eliduc that Guilliadun’s admiration and affection for the knight are born out of her visual impression of him:

De plusurs choses unt parlé. Icele l’a mult esguardé, Sun vis, sun cors e sun semblant; Dit : en lui n’a mes avenant. (ll. 299-303)89

La pucele ki l’ot veü Voldra de lui faire sun dru. (ll. 327-28)90

In accordance with medieval norms, Guilliadun’s love for Eliduc is based on her visual impression, rather than upon other aspects of his person or their interaction. Kinoshita interprets Guilliadun’s love as a gender reversal and an example of the female gaze when she scrutinizes Eliduc upon meeting him. She claims that this reversal transforms the knight into the object of female gaze (“Two for the Price of One” 43). The objectification of Eliduc, opposite of the more commonplace objectification of female characters throughout other contemporary works, contributes to Marie’s appearance to discredit the romantic love between Eliduc and Guilliadun in favor of the caritas and platonic love expressed by the knight’s wife. After a glimpse of the comatose princess, Guildeluëc’s compassion and emotions are stirred, evoking a higher, purer form of love: a platonic, sisterly love, as opposed to the erotic love commonly expressed between medieval

89 “They spoke of many things. / She studied him in detail, / His face, his body, and his mien, / Thinking that nothing in him is displeasing.” 90 “The maiden, after having seen him, / Wanted to make him her sweetheart.”

122 romantic couples. In an article, “Feeling Her Way,” Sarah Chinn, who specializes in gender, race, and sexuality in literature, discusses the role of vision in sexuality. She addresses what I am calling here the male gaze, that is, men’s inclination to rely upon visual eroticism for sexual pleasure. Chinn allows that visual knowledge, i.e. eroticism and sexual acts that incorporate sight, the gaze, or visual elements, is a way to sexually experience a person, but it is the weakest and most shallow form of sexual intimacy

(184). Her study concludes that vision actually plays a minimal role in sexual pleasure for and between women (182). Women prefer to draw upon sensory experience and sensation (touch, taste, sound) as a form of intimacy. In fact, incorporating objects such as blindfolds to inhibit vision as a type of kinky play is common and is used during sexual intercourse to form a deeper connection between sexual partners (182).

In her lais, Marie draws upon Capellanus’ love treatise by establishing a clear link between vision and love with her characters. A disparity remains though, between her portrayal of heterosexual romantic love and the love that emerges between the two women in this lai. Eliduc’s love for both women is duplicitous and unreliable. He lies to them both and withholds crucial information in order to serve his own interest and because he fears the repercussions of honesty. Guilliadun’s love for Eliduc appears to be painful and deadly in comparison with Guildeluëc’s sacrificial, sisterly love and compassion. The princess is repeatedly brought to a weakened state of peril and distress because of her romantic attachment to Eliduc. She proclaims, “s’il ne m’aime par amur, /

Murir m’estuet a grant dolur” (ll. 349-50).91 She later continues, “E se il n’a de m’amur cure, / Mult me tiendrai a malbaillie; / Ja mes n’avrai joie en ma vie” (ll. 398-400).92 The

91 “If he does not truly love me, / There is nothing left for me but to die of great sorrow.” 92 “And if he is not interested in my love, / I will be most unfortunate. / Never again will I have joy in my life.”

123 dramatic declarations from Guilliadun appear superficial compared to the motives of her romantic rival. Guildeluëc experiences deep sorrow when she first lays eyes upon

Guilliadun because she is struck with profound sympathy for her fellow woman who has been brought so low for love. She states, “Tant par pitié, tant par amur / Ja mes n’avrai joie nul jur” (ll. 1027-8).93 Marie’s heroines both express a permanent loss of joy, but it is the abandoned wife whose sadness stems from caritas and genuine admiration

Guilliadun’s love has made her weak. Eliduc’s wife, as well, has suffered a harsh betrayal, but puts her own heartache and anger aside to aid the incapacitated woman.

“Veiz tu,” fet el, “cest femme, Ki de belté resemble gemme? Ceo est l’amie mun seignur, Pur qui il meine tel dolur. Par fei, jeo ne m’en merveil mie, Quant si bele femme est perie. Tant pitié, tant par amur Ja mes n’avrai joie nul jur.” Ele cumença a plurer E la meschine regreter. (ll. 1021-30)94

While the gaze shared between Guilliadun and Eliduc is sexual, Guildeluëc’s is one of veneration and understanding, establishing a bond between herself and her husband’s comatose love. She sees beyond the flesh and unfortunate circumstances to identify and sympathize with the young woman. As soon as she lays eyes on the princess, Guildeluëc immediately understands how her husband was unable to deny his love for her. Vision

93 “From so much pity and so much love or her / Never again will I have joy.” 94 “‘Do you see,’ she said, ‘this woman? / Whose beauty resembles a jewel? / This is my husband’s beloved, / For whom he is in such distress. / By my faith, I am not the least surprised / When such a beautiful woman has perished. / From so much pity and so much love or her / Never again will I have joy.’ / She began to cry / And lament the young maiden.”

124 transforms the wife’s concern and uncertainty into a comprehensible reality. Her understanding and acceptance are charitable and forgiving in light of her husband’s slippery deeds. After seeing Guilliadun, she displays no ill will toward Eliduc or the young woman who has captured his heart. Marie wove the coming together of the three main characters in her narrative as a perfect scenario to present two forms of love side by side.

Marie further contrasts two forms of love in her lai: the destructive, heterosexual love between Eliduc and the princess and the restorative, sisterly love between

Guildeluëc and Guilliadun. The love born out of unfaithfulness plagues the couple with troubles. As previously mentioned, Guilliadun, is repetitively weakened by her love for

Eliduc when their love is threatened. Fear of losing her beloved causes her to faint. This is not the first time that bad news has this effect on her. The enamored princess first loses consciousness in the lai when Eliduc announces his immanent and unsolicited return to his homeland.

Ainz qu’il li eüst tut mustré Ne cungié pris ne demandé, Se pasma ele de dolur E perdi tute sa culur. (ll.659-62)95

Eliduc, worried at the sight of his young love collapsed on the gound, confesses his feelings to Guilliadun saying, “Vus estes ma vie e ma mort, / En vus est trestut mun confort” (ll. 671-2).96 She recovers from this episode only to lose consciousness again two hundred lines later on the boat from England to Brittany when the truth of Eliduc’s

95 Before he had even explained everything, / Or asked to take his leave, / She fainted from sorrow / And lost all her color.” 96 “You are my life and my death. / All of my comfort is in you.”

125 marital status is revealed. After absconding with Eliduc, a sailor onboard exposes the truth during a Jonah-and-the-Whale style tempest.97 Utterly shocked by the revelation,

Guilliadun again faints.

Desur sun vis cheï pasmee, Tute pale, desculuree. En la pasmeisun demura, Qu’el ne revint ne suspira. (ll. 853-6)98

Eliduc and Guilliadun’s unholy love brings them suffering and pain. Even Eliduc, misguided in his affection, is so tormented by love that he commits grievous crimes and breaks his vow to his wife. The shrine he wishes built for this young love testifies the depth of his heartache and devotion. He mourns over her body in the chapel daily, unable to move beyond the pain of losing his young love. Throughout the lai, Marie’s hero finds no recourse or solution to his sticky situation. It is his wife, Guildeluëc who not only delivers his beloved from death, but also brings resolution and harmony to the problematic triangle of husband-wife-girlfriend.

In the hidden chapel where Guilliadun lies unconscious, Guildeluëc witnesses a cunning weasel restoring life to its dead partner with a crimson flower. The wife trusts the weasel’s knowledge of medicinal herbs and places the same flower in the mouth of

Guilliadun, reviving her motionless body. Not only does Guildeluëc save the young

97 The biblical Book of Jonah recounts the tale of Jonah, who is cast overboard from his ship and eaten by a whale after the sailors fear that his sins are the cause of a lethal sea storm threatening to sink their ship. The sailors on Eliduc’s vessel arrive at a similar same conclusion; the storm is God’s punishment for Eliduc’s bigamy and his crew’s collusion. They wish to throw Guilliadun overboard to appease God’s anger. 98 She collapsed against his face, unconscious, / Pale and discolored. / She remained unconscious, / With neither moving or making a sound.”

126 woman’s life, she additionally brings resolution to the immoral love triangle tormenting the three main characters. Guildeluëc explains to the princess upon reviving her:

Jo suis s’espuse veirement; Mult ai pur lui mon quer dolent... Que vive estes, grant joie en ai. Ensemble od mei vus en merrai E a vostre ami vus rendrai. Del tut le vueil quite clamer, E si ferai mun chief veler. (ll. 1093-4... 1098-1102)99

Turning back to Cottille-Foley’s reading of romantic triangles, that author states that “Not only does Marie demonstrate here that a triangle can be composed of two women and a man and that the identification could happen between two women but, furthermore, that their sisterhood could be the focus and the goal of the story. Even courtly heterosexual love surrenders before it” (171). Marie essentially diminishes the romantic love between the princess and Eliduc, framing the conclusion of her narrative instead around the two central women. In fact, she balances this example of sorority by foreshadowing and proclaiming the centrality of their bond at the beginning of the lai.

Marie claims to source her tales from Breton and Celtic oral narratives; Eliduc is “un mult anciën lai Bretun.”100 In her prologue she specifies:

Iluec ama une meschine, Fille ert a rei e a reïne. Guilliadun ot nun la pucele, El reialme nen ot plus bele. La femme resteit apelee

99 “I am truly his wife, / And my heart aches for him... / That you are alive gives me great joy. / I will take you with me / And I will give you to your lover. / I want to restore his liberty to him, / And then I will take the veil.” 100 “A very old Breton lai.”

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Guildeluëc en sa cuntree. D’eles dous a li lais a nun Guildeluëc ha Guilliadun. “Eliduc” fu primes nomez, Mes ore est li nuns remuëz, Kar des dames est avenu L’aventure dunt li lais fu. (ll. 15-26, my emphasis)101

She explicitly underscores to her audience that the women are the true actors of the plot.

She chooses to undermine the origin of the lai by renaming her rendition after the two wives. Since the Harley Manuscript gives the lai the title Eliduc, in place of Marie’s deliberate choice of Guildeluëc ha Guilliadun, the manuscript title of this lai reflects the oppressive patriarchal stamp of medieval culture (Cottille-Foley 171). Manuscript editors either decided to embrace the original title of the tale or concluded that Eliduc was indeed the central figure around whom the text is framed, reinstating the Breton title, Eliduc in direct opposition to the author’s intent. Despite the editorial choice, it remains clear that

Marie singled the heroines out from the beginning to foreshadow their intersection in the conclusion. She explains that after years of wedded bliss, Eliduc joins a monastery of his founding and confides his second wife to the care of his first, sending Guilliadun to join

Guildeluëc’s convent. In this respect, the two women truly become sisters, devoting their love to God as they spend their days together.

The love Guildeluëc demonstrates for her husband and his beloved is unparalleled in literature of the time, although it should be noted that in another of Marie’s lais, Le

Frêne, a noble and Godly female character is similarly positioned in an unfortunate love

101 “There, he loved a maiden, / The daughter of a great king. / Guilliadun was the maiden’s name. / The wife was called / Guildeluëc in her land. / For the two of them the lai is named / Guildeluëc and Guilliadun. / It was first called ‘Eliduc,’ / But now the name is changed / Because the story that takes place in the lai / Comes from the women.”

128 triangle to watch the man she desperately loves marry her sister. Twin sisters, separated at birth, are reunited when their relationship is revealed minutes before the wedding.

Frêne, cast-off by her gossip-fearing mother at birth and raised as an orphan, selflessly offers her most prized possession, an embroidered silk mantle, to ornament her sister’s nuptial bed. This serendipitous generosity is the revelatory key that reunites the broken family and allows Frêne to obtain her heart’s desire and marry her beloved. In Eliduc,

Guildeluëc’s pitié for her husband’s sweetheart is one powerful medieval examples of female unity, sharing characteristics with Adrienne Rich’s “lesbian continuum.” She not only finds a solution to her mixed-up marriage and the unfortunate situation the three characters are in, but she also demonstrates agency, liberating herself from an unequal marriage and demanding a position that lends her authority in the community. The first wife in Eliduc is plainly “woman-identified,” “bonding against male tyranny” (Rich 649).

In this case, the “male tyranny” equates to being yoked into a marriage where one is undesired and disrespected. Guildeluëc’s husband had not upheld his vows to her and she therefore does not feel obliged to remain bound to him, especially when her ties to Eliduc impede her new “sister’s” joy.

The resolution to take the veil is not without precedent in medieval culture.

Kinoshita remarks that undesirable wives were occasionally forced into nunneries to clear a path for their husbands to legally remarry (“Two for the Price of One” 48). Thus, it is not far-fetched to imagine that Guildeluëc quickly sees this as a viable escape from her marriage. Cottille-Foley agrees, arguing that Guildeluëc’s request for land and funds to establish a religious order of women is a reprieve for Eliduc as well as, perhaps even more so, “a bargain for female autonomy” (Cottille-Foley 174). Female sexuality plays a significant role in Guildeluëc’s bid for freedom. As a wife, she is expected to fulfil

129 certain requirements to her husband and to play the appropriate role in society for her sex and status. The most important duty for a wife is to produce legitimate heirs for her husband. As explained elsewhere, James A. Brundage makes the argument that the institution of marriage functioned as a safeguard for inheritance, family identity, and potential legal concerns (42). Because Marie does not divulge evidence of children in

Eliduc and Guildeluëc’s marriage, we cannot know for sure whether or not she produced any heirs. This ambiguity, followed by Guildeluëc’s decision to renounce her status as a married, and thus sexually active woman, in order to become a servant of God and Bride of Christ implies an agenda to reject her femininity and take on more authority and autonomy not permitted to her as a sexually active, married woman. Taking the veil, literally covering her hair, casts aside her inherent sexualized identity as wife and possibly mother. No longer sexually active and sexually objectified, Guildeluëc and medieval women who chose the lifestyle of a Bride of Christ, were no longer “women” in the medieval sense of the term. Mazo Karras underscores how the veil lent gender fluidity to its wearers: “Virginity was not just a sexual choice, it also took women out of their gender-defined roles and made them honorary men” (Sexuality in Medieval Europe

42). She agrees that life at an abbey holds the possibility of more agency and independence than what was characteristic of women at the time.

Rather than cutting back on women’s choices, virginity offered them new options. Virginity was the opposite of sexual activity, but because the only sexual activity that was at all acceptable for women came with marriage, virginity was also the opposite of marriage. Rejection of sex meant the rejection of the control of a husband. Celibate women could avoid male domination, at least to some degree (the spiritual authority they amassed could help them gain their independence from fathers and brothers as well) (Sexuality in Medieval Europe 39).

130

The only acceptable sexuality available to women in the Middle Ages was through marriage and motherhood. Any other female sexual activity was viewed as licentious and immoral and was subject to punishment. Marie juxtaposes the role of wife with that of abbess in Eliduc. It is no surprise that the female author envisions the abbey as a place of empowerment and even learning. In her lai Le Frêne, the abandoned twin daughter is brought up by the abbess at a local convent and given a thorough, well-rounded education. The abbey is a site where women have the opportunity to live independently from male rule and receive an education beyond what was common for women at that time. High regard for the convent is reflected in Marie’s œuvre. Penelope Johnson touches upon how venerated these holy women were in their communities because of their charitable nature. She says, “By taking the veil, women could leave behind the

‘infirmities’ of their sex to become ‘our good friends’ to their neighbors; in the cloister they could find a satisfying and integrated self-image” (247). She, like Mazo Karras and

Kinoshita, draw a connection between the female sex, sexuality, and status as a female nun. The cloister creates a space where nuns are “in-between;” neither female nor male.

Becoming a Bride of Christ transforms the female body into something more fluid that is less defined and controlled. Johnson’s study indicates a change in status affiliated with taking the veil. They are no longer weak in ways that other women are (247). They rise above their sex, defy sexual objectification and obtain a certain level of independence from male rule. It is unquestionable that women who chose monastic life escape being treated as objects of exchange between men. Guildeluëc, by choosing to renounce her marital vows in exchange for new vows and a veil removes herself from male exchange, patriarchal dominance, and the weaknesses and limitations of her sex.

131

Due to the fact that female hair had a direct link in the medieval imagination to female beauty and sexuality, the act of taking the veil holds distinct symbolism for female monastics and for Guildeluëc in Eliduc. Covering female hair is an external sign of the internal rejection of female sexuality. It reflects a conscious choice to no longer ascribe to the traditional roles upheld by society or to follow the same codes as lay men and women. Expressing and acting upon a desire to commit to religious orders was no easy measure for medieval women. Even among monastics, women were seen as sacrificing more than men and overcoming more worldly temptation than men taking the cloth. Penelope Johnson explains this conviction:

Nuns inspired an inflated esteem because they were believed to be overcoming greater natural odds than were their male counterparts. Since women were seen as less than men in the order of nature, female monastic profession made nuns better than men in the order of grace... the church viewed [a woman’s] renunciation of sexuality as more onerous than it was for a man because of her perceived inherent weakness and naturally stronger sex drive (Johnson 235).

While taking the veil is a decision that was certainly viewed as being demanding for women and counter their nature, it cannot be said that there were not certain benefits.

Life in the cloister among women provided an escape from patriarchy. Daughters were no longer subject to the whims and will of their fathers, brothers, or male kin, and women no longer lived under the rule of their husbands. In Eliduc, Guildeluëc profits from her husband’s unfaithful heart to remove herself from the role thrust upon her by her father or other men in her life. Covering her hair and founding her abbey of nuns provides an opportunity to subvert her status as an unhappily married woman by gaining authority over an entire convent of other women, reestablishing herself from a role of subservience to one of supervisor. The actual extent of her power as abbess is uncertain because firstly,

132

Marie provides limited insight into Guildeluëc’s new role, and secondly, autonomy among female religious orders and convents varied during the Middle Ages, as Cottille-

Foley makes clear. She explains, “Monastic life was an area where the extent of female power was ill-defined and extremely variable. The abbess ruled over a number of nuns and she sometimes administered the land. The Church, of course, did not approve and involved itself in restricting the women’s arena of power” (175). Little by little, as female monasticism gained popularity, notoriety, and cult followings around female saints, the Church’s grip around religious women tightened. In 1298, Pope Boniface VIII enacted the papal edict Periculoso, requiring that nuns be strictly enclosed in their abbeys and convents as a result of the potential danger these women posed coming and going from the cloister at will and mingling with the community (Pernoud 43). Before the enactment of this papal bull, the twelfth century was a high-point for female monastic power before controlling rules and orders were imposed upon cloistered women (Johnson

247). This corresponds with the period in which Marie was actively working, pointing to the influence of these female monastics as a source and a model for the abbesses and convents in Marie’s narratives. In fact, it has been suggested that Marie herself was a member of a female monastic order, exposing her to an education necessary to become a skilled and well-versed author. Prominent Marie de France scholar Logan Whalen touches upon the mystery of her birth in the introduction to his collection of articles on

Marie’s œuvre, A Companion to Marie de France:

There have been numerous attempts to identify Marie de France as having been associated with religious orders and with royal houses. These associations would explain her familiarity with courtly life and the source of her education, possibly in a convent (she knew Latin well and most likely English) ... Despite these scholarly endeavors, there seems to be no convincing evidence to establish firmly her identity, and her life remains a mystery (p. viii-ix).

133

Guildeluëc’s decision to take the veil illustrates an element of agency embedded in

Adrienne Rich’s theory on women-centered action. Rich states that “Lesbian existence comprises both the breaking of a taboo and the rejection of a compulsory way of life”

(649). Georges Duby has no doubt that women’s existence was absolutely dictated by male actors. He states that

Firstly, it is asserted that woman’s condition is to be dominated: by her father who gives her to whom he pleases; by her husband who controls and watches over her; and later by her eldest son; and finally, when the latter drives the mother with whom he is burdened out of the house, she is dominated by the monks of the family monastery, one of whose roles is precisely to open its doors to the women of the noble family who are marginalized once they have ceased to be useful (Love and Marriage, 43).

His pessimistic conviction is so profound that he even sees retirement into the monastic lifestyle as a continuation of the male management of women. In light of this, the argument could be (and has been) made that the wife’s sacrifice is more beneficial for her horny husband than for her, making her sacrifice male-centered, and as Duby acknowledges, the Church, an institution rife with misogyny, remains the head of any female monastic order. How is it possible that Guildeluëc be empowered by being brushed aside by her husband? The key to the conflict between patriarchal authority and female empowerment in this literary example lies in Guildeluëc’s authoritative proclamation outlining her plans and her wishes. Upon Guilliadun’s awakening,

Guildeluëc asserts that

Ensemble od mei vus en merrai E a vostre ami vus rendrai. Del tut le vueil quite clamer, E si ferai mun chef veler.

134

(ll. 1099-1002, my emphasis)102

The language in the above resolution exemplifies authority and decisiveness. She is precise and without hesitation in what she intends to do. The use of the future in this excerpt confirms the heroine’s determination in dealing with the unharmonious romantic triangle brought about by her husband’s wandering affections. When unveiling her plan to Eliduc, she is once again resolute. She demands that Eliduc marry the young princess and allocate a portion of his land to her so that she may found and construct an abbey.

She chides her husband for his immoral conduct stating that “n’est pas bien n avenant /

De dous espouses maintenir” (ll. 1128-29).103 Guildeluëc becomes the agent of her own future and demonstrates what Rich would identify as woman-centered goals. The first wife’s desire is to build a sorority of women, accepting her ex-husband’s second wife as a sister and member of this community. If her sympathy initially drives her to love her rival, then it can also be said that being woman-centered bears propitious results for

Guildeluëc. While she declined the role of a woman bearing children for her family, she becomes a vessel of God’s will, setting an example of forgiveness, virtue, and steadfastness. Though she does not have children of her own, she has a flock of thirty women who will follow her guidance and training. In the midst of symbols of fertility and rebirth, the wife “denies her own sexuality” in favor of the sexuality of her husband’s beloved (Coolidge 285). Her new lifestyle is its own form of fertility founded upon the rejection of female sexuality and the withdrawal from secular society. Guildeluëc strays from the path of normalcy and paves the way for multiple women to prosper from her

102 “I will take you with me and I will deliver you to your beloved. I want to acknowledge him as free, and then I will cover my head.” 103 “It is neither virtuous nor appropriate / To keep two wives.”

135 agency. In Marie de France’s lai, resolution hinges upon this wife’s assertion and competency in finding harmony in marital discord. Additionally, Eliduc demonstrates that empowerment is not inherently in conflict with religion and the Church in medieval

French literature. Instead, Marie reveals the Church as a site of subversion and taking the veil as a move of empowerment. Another well-loved work of medieval literature, from the south of France, uncovers another avenue of female advancement via veiling during mass.

Flamenca, the Benda, and Tonsured Love: A “Host” of Divine Romance

Flamenca is a thirteenth-century Occitan romance written in the langue d’oc by an anonymous author. The sole surviving manuscript unfortunately suffered enough damage to leave several passages of text illegible. As a result, the conclusion of the romance after the lovers successfully plot and realize their affair remains a mystery. The brutish and bestial jealous husband, Archimbaut, was introduced in chapter two as an example of how unchecked jealousy results in violent mistreatment of both the female body and hair. Initially, though, Archimbaut is the perfect model of a courtly lover, generously hosting wedding guests in his town, Bourbon, and behaving courteously to his beloved, Flamenca. His behavior changes soon after rumors cause him to become suspicions of his new bride. After this turning point, the husband is filled with irrepressible rage and jealousy, causing him to lose his humanity and respect in the community. He decides to lock his wife up in a tower, only letting her out for church services and to visit the neighborhood bathhouse for her health. After the violent shaving threatened by the jealous Archimbaut, it is not Flamenca who receives a tonsure, but her soon-to-be lover who requests that the town priest shear his hair and give him a tonsure

136 so that he may act as a cleric and better “serve God” to heal his pain and sorrow after traveling far to find the heroine. In reality, the lovesick newcomer will use his position in the church to approach his lady and win her affection. Flamenca, for her part, seizes the opportunity that her religious head covering, the benda, provides to secretly converse with the new, handsome cleric each time he offers her the Host. The romance between the two lovers significantly blossoms in God’s house. Their affair is sanctioned by God and blessed weekly through the service of communion where they exchange quick, two- syllable phrases each service until a time and place is set to finally rendezvous. After meeting frequently in the city baths, Flamenca sends Guilhem away for a time so that when he returns the can publicly stage a meeting as if it were the first time. During their separation, Archimbaut realizes his mistake in locking Flamenca away in a tower and mistreating and mistrusting her. He returns to his courtly state, releases his tormented wife, and reintegrates into society, hosting jousts and festivities in the spring and inviting nobility, Guilhem included, to come and participate.

The final jousting tournament and merriments mirror the opening marital celebrations and conviviality at the beginning of the romance. The two celebrations bookend the rising jealousy of Archimbaut, the blooming romance between Flamenca and Guilhem, and the husband’s atonement and reentry into good society. It is because of this that Archimbaut’s comportment forms the backbone of the narrative. The plot pivots around his separation from and re-assimilation back into society. The irony of these mirrored celebrations is that during the first gathering, Flamenca was innocent and wrongfully punished for over two years. During the final celebration Flamenca is released from her punishment while only the audience knows that this time she is not

137 innocent of her husband’s jealous speculations. The two festivities mirror one another in a reversed reflection of innocence, punishment, and culpability.

The jealous husband’s falling in and out of courtly behavior is tied to canonical time and the church being featured as the center of medieval life. John Moreau observes how Flamenca is framed around the ecclesiastical calendar and that “Archimbaut moves in the opposite direction from everybody else. While he falls out of step with church time, Guilhem and Flamenca get to know each other through the rhythm of the liturgical year and the mass itself, holding fast to the community” (51). For while Archimbaut disrespects the church by arriving late for service and hastening to leave afterward as quickly as possible, Guilhem befriends the priest, offers to pay for a young cleric’s formal education and sends him off to Paris, then offers his service to the priest, taking the young boy’s position as a dutiful cleric. The opposition between the two men, and their respect for that which is holy, could not be more pronounced. Archimbaut repels society with his harsh behavior and ill grooming, yet Guilhem befriends everyone and is generous with gifts and favors. Archimbaut hastily accuses his wife and allows jealousy to fester within him, but Guilhem is a master of patience, traveling from Burgundy to find

Flamenca and slowly wooing her over the long months of their disyllabic exchanges. In fact, it is because of the church and Guilhem’s involvement that he is able to achieve his amorous goal.

The irony of the jovial lover’s skillful manipulations is not lost on the audience.

L.T. Topsfield remarks that suddenly in Flamenca “The world is upside-down. Guillem with long hair was chaste; he now demands the tonsure, token of chastity, as a means towards adulterous love” (127). This reversal of expectations is important. It illustrates that our external perspective must be reversed in order to read the morality behind

138 extramarital sexual love. The audience expects the outer, physical appearance of characters to reflect the inner self, and indeed this is true with characters such as

Archimbaut. As the possessive and callus husband gets more and more disorderly and takes on animalistic traits and behaviors, the tonsured Guilhem demonstrates his organization, discipline, courtliness, and general likeability. The piece of the puzzle seemingly out of place is, as Topsfield points out, Guilhem’s religious tonsure facilitating infidelity. In place of the tonsure conflicting with the lover’s affair, the presence of

Guilhem’s tonsure throughout their romance evinces the morality of their love and conveys that their relationship, while under normal circumstances unholy, is sanctified by

God. Guilhem’s external appearance and his courtly behavior conveys that he would not become entangled with immorality and sin. Whatever action in which he engages must be understood as virtuous, including the exploitation of church offices and the seduction of a married woman.

The narrative reversals do not end there. As mentioned above, it is Flamenca who is initially threatened with the tonsure when her jealous husband rants and rages against her alluring beauty. “E ja non cug que·us sia sabes,” Archimbaut tells her, “Quan la·us farai ab forfes tondre” (ll. 1128-9).104 In the end his threats are not upheld and her hair remains intact. Such an act would have been traumatic for the poor, victimized woman.

For Guilhem, on the other hand, the tonsuring experience is one of delight as he is aware that such a haircut brings him closer to his beloved. The witnesses to his haircut, on the other hand, are struck with grief and remorse at the loss of his fair hair, a single strand more beautiful than una bella fuilla d’aur (l. 3564).

104 “And I do not think it will be to your liking / When I tonsure it with large scissors.”

139

Le capellas nom poc respondre De grineza, car si vol tondre Sos cabeillz, ques eron plus saur Ques una bella fuilla d’aur... Ens Peire Gui nom poc laissar Que non l’avengues a plorar. Li domna fon de ginollos; Ben fes parer que mal li fos, Car per los ueils l’aiga·l descent, De que li cara fort l’escent. (ll. 3561-4... 3567-72)105

Their dramatic display of sorrow at the hero’s tonsure is unexpectedly feminizing, especially after his host’s wife, Bellapila, collects the shorn locks in a delicate, white satin cloth. Her intention, without knowing of Guilhem’s desire and affection, is to confection the hair into a decorative braid as an offering to Flamenca. This gifting of hair is reminiscent of Alixandre’s chemise sewn with Soredamors’ flaxen hair and Lancelot’s reverent and dazzled response to Guinevere’s hair-entangled comb. In this Occitan romance gender roles are reversed, positioning the woman on the receiving end of the gifted hair. Presumably, Flamenca would receive this token from Bellapila to ornament a coat or dress. Just as how Soredamors’ hair, so purely golden, blended seamlessly with the thread-of-gold stitching on Alixandre’s undergarment, Guilhem’s blonde hair is so rich and pure that it would be mistaken for a braid of thread-of-gold. Similar to literary females with shorn hair revealing their sexual misbehavior, Guilhem’s tonsure appears to foreshadow the seduction and intercourse that is to come. His tonsure is therefore a harbinger and precursory sentencing of the coming adultery. He voluntarily receives the

105 “The chaplain could not respond / Because of the emotion caused because he wants to tonsure / His hair, which was more golden / Than one of the beautiful leaves of gold... Peire Gui could not keep / Himself from crying. / The lady was on her knees, / Fully showing her pain, / For from her eyes tears fell, / Inflaming her face.”

140 haircut so that his plan can unfold covertly, without his lady’s deceit being discovered.

This ensures that she will never be subjected to shame and chastisement for loving him.

Guilhem’s tonsure is heroic when read as a sacrificial offering, saving Flamenca from the shame and dishonor of bearing the punishment of shorn locks. Flamenca’s shaved head would not only be a difficult and unjust sentence for her to bear, but it would also endanger her good place in society as a woman that people respected and pitied for her husband’s mistreatment. Guilhem, because of his gender, is able to bypass negative connotations that plague shorn women. His hair marks him as a holy servant of God. It is too coincidental that after threats are made someone eventually does receive a tonsure and does so willingly. Guilhem’s tonsure is intended to recall the beastly threat

Archimbaut made to his wife. Guilhem’s companion’s tears, especially those of Bellapila, call to mind Mary Magdalen and the Virgin Mary mourning the crucifixion. His willingness to sacrifice a part of his beauty is the offering required for their love to unfold and their desire to be fulfilled. Guilhem’s sacrifice of his noble hair will be the salvation he and Flamenca have been praying for. As for Flamenca’s tresses, they are not mentioned again after her husband’s threats, and her lovely head remains hidden in public under her benda.

When at church, Flamenca wears a benda across her face, concealing her features from view. The benda is a type of headband made of fabric that acts as a veil, but is more tightly bound, concealing the nose, mouth, and chin. It attached to another head covering to obscure women’s hair. Its wearer could manipulate the benda during communion to accept the Eucharist. This is exactly what Flamenca does with her benda during church services, allowing for the brief exchange of words between the heroine and her amorous cleric. Guilhem’s initial opinion on the strip of fabric is unfavorable. To him, the small

141 veil obstructs his view of the face he has longed for from afar. The first time he enters the church, as a member of the congregation, he searches for his beloved, and recognizes her not for her delicate beauty and graceful features, but by the fact that she is trailing behind the fers aversiers,106 who irreverently arrived well after the other churchgoers were already seated and the third bell had been sounded. Guilhem’s eyes remained transfixed upon the shrouded woman throughout the service until Love whispers a warning to him that he is too obvious and must divert his gaze elsewhere.

Amors li dis: “Zo es aquil En cui desliurar m’assotil, Et voil que ben t’i assotilles; Pero ges tan non l’arodilles Que nuls homs s’en posca percebre. Ben t’enseinarai a decebre Lo malastruc, fol, envejos A cui fora mieilz si non fos, E de la benda·t venjarai.” (ll. 2458-66)107

Guilhem longs for a glimpse of Flamenca’s face but is forced to be patient and await the right moment. In this respect, the benda forces moderation and prevents the eager hero from fixating one part of her bodily beauty. Finally, Guilhem gets a peek of Flamenca’s head and face as the chaplain bestows upon Flamenca the benediction and holy water.

Et ill ac fag un’obertura Dreit per mei la pelpartidura Per zo que meilz lo pogues penre. Lo cuer ac blanc e prim e tenre E·l cris fon bell’e resplandens.

106 “wild devil” 107 “Love says to him: ‘Here is she / That I endeavor to liberate/ And I want that you endeavor to do the same. / But do not look at her so directly / So that anyone can perceive you. / I will teach you well how to deceive / The boor, the crazy, the jealous, / Who would be better to not exist at all. / And I will avenge you of the benda.’”

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(ll. 2486-90)108

The head covering required in the religious milieu removes Flamenca’s external sexual signifier (hair) from the playing field, requiring Guilhem’s amorous devotion to stem from a purer source than carnal passion. Similar to how the tonsure that Guilhem receives marks the righteousness of his venture, Flamenca’s covered head signifies the purity of her inner character and evinces her innocence of Archimbaut’s mistreatment. Love sees the bigger picture and understands the necessity of the benda to orchestrate his plans.

Love sends Guilhem a vision of Flamenca in his dreams. She tells him what he must do in order for them to meet secretly: He must construct a tunnel in the bathhouse from the bathing room to his bedroom, then, he must install himself in the church and assure that he is the one who delivers the Host to the congregation. When offering the

Host to Flamenca, he will charm her and convince her to meet with him in the bathhouse.

He commences preparations without setbacks and is soon installed in the position of cleric in the church, ringing bells and offering the Eucharist during service. Finally,

Guilhem is able to approach his beloved and offer her the Host. While doing so he utters a quiet “Ai las!”109 before departing. The lover fears the worst: that after all of his ministrations and planning, the diabolical benda prevented Flamenca from hearing his whispered utterance.

Li benda sai que m’a traït Que·l tenc las aurellas serradas. Bendas, mala fos hanc obradas! Pendutz fos qui bendas fes primas, Quar hom non las poc far tam primas

108 “She opened her benda / Up to her hair’s part / So that he could receive her. / Her skin was white, fresh, and smooth, / And her hair was beautiful and gleaming.” 109 “Alas!”

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La vista d’ome non affollon Et ad home l’ausir non tollon! (ll.4002-8)110

He curses the garment and worries that all of his effort will be for naught if Flamenca cannot even hear his voice. In the end his distress is for nothing. Flamenca heard this first exclamation, and spends the week preparing a response for an exchange that will go back and forth for months before culminating at a bathhouse rendezvous. Once again, the benda and the religious setting of their dialogue necessitates moderation on the part of the young lovers. Immoderation, a lack of mesura, is a deterrent for courtly love and results in irrational, capricious, or jealous behavior like that of Archimbaut. Guilhem, following

Love’s prescription, exhibits self-restraint. His nights are spent tossing and turning, obsessing over his desire, but in the daylight, within God’s holy church, everything is performed in controlled moderation. The restraint witnessed in the narrative indicates that when women’s hair is removed from the equation, love is a liberating force.

The budding romance between Flamenca and Guilhem eventually leads to the mal mariée’s freedom from the tower and the return of her husband’s humanity. Indeed, after experiencing sexual pleasure with Guilhem, Flamenca sends him home to Burgundy for a period of time, and during this time Archimbaut is set free of his jealous rage. The

Occitan heroine capitalizes on the healing that her church exchanges and sensual bathhouse visits provide, and she gains strength from her experience, commanding her lover to do her will and setting terms for reconciliation with her husband. Despite the duplicity of her marital reunion, her character demonstrates strength of will against the

110 “I know that the benda that she wears / Tightly against her ears betrayed me. / Benda! Cursed is the hour you were made! / Hang the man who first made it, / Because he did not make them light enough / That they do not obstruct the gaze / And block hearing!”

144 influential men in her life. Compared to her fate at the beginning of the romance, where

Flamenca’s father decides who she will marry, giving her no say in the matter, Flamenca at the conclusion of the narrative is decisive and subversive with the help of her two handmaidens. Her companions have aided her in realizing her love affair and played decisive roles in deceiving her husband. The lady also laments the cowardliness of the men and knights who during the two years of her wrongful imprisonment have stood by and done nothing to aid her.

Pauc deg amar los cavalliers De mon païs: dos ans entiers Hai estat en greu marrimen, Et anc negus non fes parven Que·il peses. E cil d’esta terra Que veson con hom mi soterra Tota viva, e·m fai languir A gran dolor, a mi venir Ni auson ni volon ni deinon. Tort n’auran si cortes s’en feinon, C’aital dompna, paura estraina, Laisson murir... (ll. 5335-46)111

Her condemnation of their characters and lack of courtliness demonstrates that she sees herself as a worthy judge and jury of their failures. As knights, bound to serve and protect the needy, they are inept and negligent of their duty to her. Flamenca is less of a pawn and more active in playing her own game to see herself liberated from her tower. She will manipulate social regulations and constraints, covertly finding a lover to set her free

111 “Little is there for me to love about the knights / From my country: For two whole years / I was in severe despair, / And never did any of them seem / To care about it. And those of this region, / Who saw that I was buried alive, / Left me to languish / In great agony, without daring, / Or wishing, or deigning to come to me. / They are wrong if they pretend to be chivalrous, / If they leave a woman like me, / A poor stranger, / To die.”

145 before her entire community at church, with none aware of her beau’s plans. Guilhem at least, she reasons, has devised and enacted a plan to revive her, and thus deserves her love. Further in the Burgundian’s favor, Flamenca recognizes the hand of God bringing them together through their interactions.

Mas cest dei amar per rason, Car si met per mi a bandon En tan certan peril de mort. Mais pos aitan l’a Dieus estort, Ancara l’estorcera mai, Quar de bon cor l’en pregarai. E sai ben qu’el mi ausira, Car sap ben lo mestier que m’a. (ll. 5359-66)112

According to the heroine, Guilhem is God’s answer to her prayers of salvation from her incarcerated marriage. It is only fitting that God fulfil her plea during the communion service, as the congregation is tasked to partake in the body of Christ to reflect upon and acknowledge the Savior’s sacrifice. The lover’s verbal exchanges during communion symbolize the consecration of their love. Partaking of the Host is a traditional element of marriage ceremonies. The precise moment that favored the couple’s discourse additionally evokes the exchange of marital vows and communion during a wedding service. Much in the way that the mal mariée in Marie de France’s Yonec accepted her lover’s consumption of the Eucharist as a vow of marital fidelity, Flamenca and Guilhem are validated by this quasi-marital, religious ceremony. During her wedding to

Archimbaut, Flamenca was the vessel of her father’s will, passively accepting her fate

112 “But him I must love out of logic, / Because he puts himself in certain peril of death / Without hesitation for me. / But since God has already delivered him, / He will deliver him again / Because I will pray for it with all my heart. / I am certain that he will hear me, / Because he knows my need well.”

146 and performing the role assigned to her. The Church, with her careful adjustments to the benda, creates a space in which Flamenca is more decisive and assertive, empowering her character to transcend passive objectivity.

Flamenca’s maneuvering throughout the narrative exemplifies her ability to transcend the otherness that women are subjected to by the male gaze. She also evades the treatment of women as objects in medieval French literature as I have discussed elsewhere. In wearing the benda and obscuring her features, she is conforming to religious sartorial regulations while simultaneously preventing herself from being objectified by Guilhem. In a De Beauvoirian sense, Flamenca unintentionally transcends objectification through piety. Flamenca’s sartorial manipulations also aid her in achieving liberty from her malicious and savage husband, ending in her release from the tower and the return of her husband’s humanity. While Flamenca wears her benda, her paramour,

Guilhem, undergoes a churchly makeover that leaves him with his own holy head styling.

He willingly sacrifices his tresses in order that his romance can unfold under the protection and safety of God’s house, ensuring that Flamenca’s honor is unquestioned.

Each detail of Flamenca reflects back to the church as the backbone of medieval society.

The success of the Occitan couple’s romance, sanctioned and fulfilled by God, is due in part to the careful covering of female hair, on the part of Flamenca, and the sacrificial removal of male hair by Guilhem. Their willingness to work with society and fall into its rhythm, their social integration, permits their love to flourish under the unseeing eyes of

Flamenca’s out-of-sync and irreverent husband (Moreau 53). Flamenca, furthermore, exploits her position and piety to subvert her husband and seek freedom from her abrasive marital bonds.

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Tresses d’Or: Otherworldly Hair in Lanval and Le Bel inconnu

The motif of the mystical Otherworld is commonly found throughout medieval literature. The Otherworld is often represented by a sea journey, the appearance of mystical animals or supernatural happenings, and/or enchanting fairy ladies who interact with, entrance, and entice chivalrous knights. By looking at how two fairy queens wield their bodies and hair as tools to seduce the knights they desire and openly express their ambitions, it becomes clear that the Otherworld is also a locus of female empowerment.

In the lai, Lanval, a fairy queen reveals herself to be above the customs and hierarchy of the medieval feudal justice system. In fact, she makes her disdain for courtly society evident and openly condemns the illustrious and powerful King Arthur. Another alluring fairy, in the romance Le Bel inconnu, likewise endeavors to manipulate male players to achieve her goals. Her hair reflects confidence in her overt sexual desire as well as her extensive knowledge and power. These two fairy queens show that female power can only exist outside of feudal society. In these narratives, feudalism is entirely male- serving, while the Otherworld is oriented around female desire. Men are welcome to join the fairy ladies and find pleasure and happiness in the Otherworld so long as they play by the women’s rules; otherwise they are barred entry into this land of sensuality and romantic love. The presence and popularity of Otherworldly themes in medieval literature indicates a demand for and interest in stories presenting an alternative lifestyle to the rigidity of feudalism. For women, in particular, the sexually liberated and expressive fairies confirm that under the right circumstances, women can find much more autonomy and agency than typically allowed.

Marie de France’s lai, Lanval, is a tale of a slighted knight who stumbles in and out of favor with an enchanting and commanding Fairy Queen. This “reversed male

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Cinderella story,” as described by Sharon Kinoshita, details the sumptuous makeover of the dejected knight, Lanval, and the powerful manipulations of his lady as she rescues him from downfall (“Cherchez La Femme” 269). In this lai, Marie de France reverses gender roles and reveals holes and corruption within the feudal judiciary system. Two queens, Queen Guinevere and the Fairy Queen, are situated as character foils in action and behavior. Guinevere represents a woman who is capricious and narcissistic, playing into the hierarchy of male power. The Fairy Queen, on the other hand, is entirely

Otherworldly and represents freedom from the constraints of feudalism and patriarchy.

Kinoshita remarks that “In Lanval, [Marie de France] imagines an outside to the feudal order that relegates women to the status of objects of exchange underpinning the patriarchal system” (“Cherchez La Femme” 272). In this narrative, female beauty, including the most dazzling golden mane of hair, is used to present an alternative to the male-centered feudal system of the Middle Ages and to undermine the authority of the legendary King Arthur.

At the beginning of the narrative, Lanval alone is overlooked and shamed by the negligent King Arthur as he hands out rewards, women, and land to his loyal knights.

Dejected, Lanval seeks solitude alongside a river, where he is led to the melusinian Fairy

Queen. His departure from court and entrance into the Fairy Queen’s domain represents the lady’s Otherworldliness and is the first suggestion of a society existing outside of the failed and disappointing feudalism to which Lanval is tethered. She takes Lanval as a lover and bestows upon him endless riches and luxury, vowing to magically appear to him whenever he calls upon her. Her only condition is that Lanval keep their love a secret, telling no one of her or the origin of his new wealth. The knight, after taking his pleasure with the fairy, returns to his home rich and empowered by her love, calling upon

149 her frequently to come to his bed. Eventually, the knight rejoins Arthur’s court, but is dispassionate about his re-entry into courtly society. He is consumed by thoughts of his lady. Guinevere, seeing the forlorn Lanval secluded in the garden, approaches him. She says,

Lanval, mult vus ai honuré E mult cheri e mult amé. Tute m’amur poëz aveir: Kar me dites vostre voleir! Ma druërie vus oteri; Mult devez estre liez de mei! (ll. 265-70)113

Contrary to Guinevere’s expectations, Lanval is horrified by her proposition. He immediately rejects the queen’s romantic advance, and in response, Guinevere accuses the knight of homosexuality, claiming that “Vaslez amez bien afaitiez, / Ensemble od els vus deduiez” (ll. 283-4).114 This claim is too much for the knight to ignore, and he foolishly reveals that he in fact has a lover so beautiful that even the lowest of her servants is superior to Guinevere in beauty, grace, and nobility. Wounded by this insult, the immature queen takes her insult to Arthur, claiming that Lanval accosted her seeking her love and that once rejected, he gravely slandered her beauty. Curiously, Arthur forces

Lanval to face trial not for the alleged seduction, but for the slight against Guinevere’s appearance. Lanval is doomed; he has broken his agreement with this Fairy Queen and lost her love and patronage by revealing her to Guinevere and now nothing but her presence during the trial can save him. When all hope seems lost and Lanval is wrecked

113 “Lanval, for a long time I have honored you / And cherished and loved you. / You can have all my love. / Tell me your desire! / I grant you my affection. / You must be pleased with me!” 114 “You prefer very much to take your pleasure / In the company of young men.”

150 with despair, corteges led by the most beautiful maidens ever seen arrive one after the other, ordering the court to prepare for the arrival of their mistress. Finally, the Fairy

Queen deigns to arrive, and all are in awe of her glamour:

Ele ert vestue en itel guise De chainse blanc e de chemise, Que tuit li costé li pareient, Ki de dous parz lacié esteient. Le cors ot gent, basse la hanche, Le col plus blanc que neif sur branche; Les uiz ot vairs e blanc le vis, Bele buche, nes bien asis, Les surcilz bruns e bel le frunt E le cheif cresp e alkes blunt; Fils d’or ne gete tel luur Cum si chevel contre le jur. (ll. 565-76)115

So that the court may have a more unobstructed view of her beauty, she drops her overcoat, letting her body stand as evidence of Lanval’s innocence. The Fairy Queen wastes no time schooling Arthur, bypassing all pleasantries. She demands that Lanval be released and reveals Guinevere as a liar. Addressing the king, she says:

Achaisunez fu en ta curt (Ne vueil mie qu’a mal li turt) De ceo qu’il dist. Ceo saces tu Que la reïne a tort eü: Unkes nul jur ne la requist. De la vantance que li fist, Se par mei puet estre aquitez, Par vos baruns seit delivrez!

115 “She was dressed in such a manner / In a white muslin tunic and shift, / That her flanks were visible / From the length of the lacing on both sides. / Her body was shapely, her thighs elegant, / Her neck whiter than snow on a branch; / Her eyes were gleaming on her luminous face, / with a beautiful mouth, well-positioned nose, / Brown brows on her handsome forehead, / And her hair curly and quite blonde; / Thread-of-gold had less luster / Than her hair at daybreak.”

151

(ll. 635-42)116

The knight is promptly acquitted and jumps behind the Fairy Queen on her palfrey to ride off to the mystical land of Avalon where he is never again heard from.

The Fairy Queen’s omnipotence sets her apart from her fellow monarchs, Arthur and Guinevere. She has insider knowledge that Guinevere has attempted to seduce

Lanval and is punishing him in face of rejection to gratify of her own vanity. This garden episode is pivotal to the plot because it launches Lanval into a downward spiral and establishes Guinevere as the antagonist of the lai. Addressing the venomous action of

Queen Guinevere, Jacqueline Eccles states that “In Lanval, the chief manipulator of

Arthur’s court is a woman. In this respect Guinevere is a cautionary symbol, portraying female weakness and cunning. This balances the weakness and fallibility we have already seen in the male characters and provides us with a more rounded view of the feudal court society” (284). In this respect, Guinevere’s manipulations are evidence of female weakness that equals and balances the masculine weakness of Arthur and his court. Not only is Arthur an inept king, his vassals are jealous and excluding; they gladly stood by at the beginning of the lai when Arthur withheld prizes from Lanval. Marie de France’s portrayal of this iconic court communicates across-the-board corruption and shortcomings. No earthly person is excluded from the weaknesses and vices that blanket the court.

Guinevere’s character evokes Eve’s manipulative treachery as she tries to entice

Lanval in the castle garden. Her attempted seduction and the knight’s refusal, his loyalty

116 “He was accused in your court / (And I do not want harm to come to him) / For what he said. Know that / It is the queen who was wrong: / Never did he seek her out. / In regard to his boasting, / If by my presence he can be acquitted, / That your barons would liberate him!”

152 to both his seigneur and his lady, allude to the biblical tale of Potiphar’s wife, who after being spurned by Joseph, sees him accused of rape and imprisoned.117 In addition to

Eccles’ reading of Guinevere as a weak representation of woman and a reflection of

Arthur’s corrupt court, the slighted queen foils Lanval’s Fairy Queen. Guinevere is everything her romantic rival is not: disempowered by patriarchy, androcentric and hungry for attention from men, and bound by feudalism and the order of courtly love.

Guinevere lives in a world where her value is gauged by her success as an ornament to her king. Arthur makes this clear as he lays out the accusation against Lanval:

Vassal, vus m’avez mult mesfait! Trop començastes vilein plait De mei hunir e avillier E la reïne laidengier. Vantez vus estes de folie! (ll. 365-9)118

The alleged crime against the queen suddenly becomes an offense to Arthur himself in the androcentric perspective of women as possessions and reflections of the men who possess them. Guinevere, despite the fact that the entire trial is based on her manipulative lie, is constrained to a judiciary system wherein her beauty, just as the beauty of all women, is her most valuable asset. For Arthur, proving that he has chosen and wedded the most appealing woman is a competitive attempt to assert his supremacy over the lesser knight. Guinevere’s petty complaint against Lanval, the lie she has woven, turns into a challenge of male power. In Arthur’s court, the man with the most stunning woman

117 See Genesis 39. 118 “Vassal, you have done me great wrong! / You have initiated an uncouth suit / To shame and disgrace me / And to insult the queen. / You have foolishly boasted!”

153 by his side wields the most might, and the king is loath to let his low-ranking, disgraced knight one-up him.

As a testimony to her otherness, the Fairy Queen paves her own way. Her arrival at court demonstrates that she is above the trifling games of this realm. Marie de France reveals both male and female characters in this lai to be weak, and the melusinian fairy demonstrates that the patriarchal system reigning at court is inept and insufferable. Just as

King Arthur is inadequate and weak, forgetting his knight and later erroneously taking him to trial, Lanval’s character weaknesses are also exposed by the author. He fails to keep one, simple promise to his lady once his heterosexuality is mise en question. His need to prove his virility and heterosexuality and his thoughtless boasting of his lady’s beauty result in his downfall. Lanval did not have to insult Queen Guinevere’s appearance after declining her proposal. His readiness to reassert the superior attraction of his lady is as macho as King Arthur’s desire to prove Guinevere’s supremacy. The demand to see Lanval’s alleged lady convoked before a tribunal of male nobility so that the beauty of the two women can be compared, weighed, and measured attempts to turn the court trial into a medieval beauty pageant. The Fairy Queen, believing unequivocally in her superiority enlists her retinue to clear her lover’s name and disparage Arthur’s realm. Beautiful servants parade into Arthur’s court, each servant lovelier than

Guinevere, until finally the Fairy Queen herself arrives and demands Lanval’s acquittal.

She gives the court the show they want, displaying her body for all to see, but does not wait for judgement to be given. She delivers her own judgement and takes her lover with her, exiting on horse with Lanval behind her, in a feminized and subordinate position.

Her display illustrates her awareness that the men value her for her beauty. Even Lanval

154 identifies her upon arrival from a description of her hair. It is her beauty, proven by the description of her golden locks, that verifies her arrival.

“Sire cumpain, ci en vient une, Mes el n’est pas falve ne brune; Ceo ‘st la plus bele de ces mund, De tutes celes ki i sunt.” Lanval l’oï, sun chief dresça; Bien la cunut, si suspira. (ll. 605-10)119

Lanval is not above the same inadequacies that characterize Arthur’s court. Unlike the king, it seems that Lanval’s concern is not with being in the right and winning his case, but rather, he is concerned with being at fault and falling out with his lady. True to the doctrine of courtly love, the knight’s duty to his lady outweighs his obligation to his lord.

The sorrow he feels at the loss of his beloved inversely reflects the shame and embarrassment he felt at the beginning of the narrative when Arthur snubbed him, although one outweighs the other. Losing his lady’s love is paramount because it is the

Fairy Queen who delivered him from depression and bestowed wealth upon him. He owes more to her than to his flippant king who did not uphold his commitment. The Fairy

Queen proves that her worth is beyond ornamentation through her loyalty to Lanval and subversion of Arthur’s court.

She overturns Arthur and his patriarchal court when she storms in and proclaims her truth without giving anyone the chance to respond or consider her claims. She uses her appealing golden hair and good looks to get in the door, deliver her message, and

119 “‘Sir companion, someone comes now, / Neither brunette nor mousy-brown, / Who is the most beautiful in the world. / The most beautiful of all women!’ / Lanval heard this, raised his head, / Recognized her and sighed.”

155 snub the king and his court. This literary example from a female author presents a situation where women’s hair and their beauty are not exploited by male characters for the advancement of men. Rather, the female manipulates the situation to achieve the results she desires. In doing so, she illustrates that she has transcended the traditional subject/object dynamic between men and women in the Middle Ages. Her tactic in revealing her wealth and beauty, as well as the splendor of her retinue, is direct. Her speech is frank and composed as she delivers the truth to Arthur and the jury. Although her beauty plays a pivotal role in the plot, she avoids using seduction to achieve her objective.

The figure of the empowered female fairy is not unique to Marie’s lai. In the late twelfth to early thirteenth-century romance, Le Bel inconnu by Renaud de Beaujeu, the principal character, Guinglain, embarks on a typical knightly quest. His journey, full of damsels in distress and epic battles, introduces him to a mysterious fairy named Blanches

Mains. This powerful and Otherworldly woman will tempt the hero into her bed in an attempt to secure his hand in marriage. The Otherworldly female in Le Bel inconnu, along with the Fairy Queen in Marie de France’s Lanval, demonstrate an exceptional literary space in which traditional male-centered culture is breeched, enabling strong, mystical female characters to employ their hair as a tool for empowerment. In Le Bel inconnu,

Blanches Mains uses magic and manipulation to puppet-master the hero’s actions in order to seduce the knight. When it is evident that Guinglain will not uphold her request to abandon feudal tradition and join her in her supernatural world, she decisively cuts ties and abandons him. The hero, like many chivalric figures of medieval literature, is torn between two worlds, two women, and two decisions. Unlike Marie de France’s Lanval,

Guinglain choses vassalage over his love for Blanches Mains. In this tale, the author sets

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Blanches Mains apart from her peers, singling her out for her education and paying close attention to her hairstyles. Blanches Mains is a woman who is entirely otherworldly, standing out from the norm with her unbound hair and uncovered head, wearing her sexuality on her sleeve for the world to see. The continual detail given to her hair, alongside of her assertiveness and clever manipulation of Guinglain attest to the fairy’s readiness to put her needs first and crusade for her own advancement.

In the same vein as Lancelot in Le Chevalier de la charrette, the hero of Renaud de Beaujeu’s narrative is unnamed at the beginning of the romance. He is known only as

Le Bel inconnu (The Handsome Unknown), the alias given to him by King Arthur. No one, not even he himself, knows his actual name until the second half of the text when he is revealed to be Guinglain, son of Sir Gawain and the fairy Blancemal. After joining

Arthur’s court, Le Bel inconnu acquiesces to the plea of a maiden to rescue her mistress, the princess of Whales. The hero sets forth on a perilous journey to save the princess,

Blonde Esmérée, rescuing a multitude of damsels along the way in classic hero fashion.

Le Bel inconnu finally comes across a beautiful kingdom called the Ille d’Or (Golden

Isle), victim to the power of a strong enchantment that forces the Fairy Queen of the isle to bind herself in marriage to a bellicose brute. Le Bel inconnu defeats the rogue in combat, liberating the queen, Blanches Mains, and her kingdom. Blanches Mains sees the hero’s valor and worth at once and plots to seduce him into wedding her. She is transparent in her desire to attain Arthur’s newest knight, declaring to him:

Et si ferai de vos signor: Ma terre vos doins et m’amor. A mari, sire, vos prendrai. Millor de vos certes ne sai.

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(ll. 2273-6)120

Initially, Blanches Mains is single-minded in her pursuit of Le Bel inconnu. After seeing her kingdom liberated, she quickly switches gears, latching on to her savior as a means to ensure the future safety of her territory. Le Bel inconnu has won her attention, as well as her heart, and the fairy is enthusiastic to stake her claim.

La dame pensse engiens et ars Et molt en est en grant anguisse Coment celui retenir puisse: Ses cuers a lui s’ostroie et donne... La dame dist que le prendra Et c’ainc la nuit en parlera A tos les princes de s’onor. (ll. 2284-7... 2291-3)121

In truth, it does not appear to take much effort to win over the attractive knight; Blanches

Mains is equally, if not more, desirable for her beauty and powerful position. She is unlike the prototypical medieval heroine due to her unabashed sexuality and scholarship.

The initial description of Blanches Mains, for there are several throughout the narrative, recounts her intelligence and education before any elaboration on her physical appearance. Her father’s only child, she was instilled with a well-rounded education.

Mes pere fu molt rices rois Qui molt fu sages et cortois. Onques n’ot oir ne mais que moi, Si m’ama tant en bonne foi Que les set [ars] me fist apre[ndre] Tant que totes les soc entendre.

120 “And thus, I will make you a lord: / My land and my love I will give you. / I shall take you, sir, as my husband. / I know of none worthier than you.” 121 “The lady, in very great distress, / Thought of tricks and magic / And of how she could retain him. / She offered and gave her heart to him... / The lady said that she will take him / And that before nightfall she will speak of him / With all of her princely councilors.”

158

Arismetiche, dyomotrie, Ingremance et astrenomie Et des autres asés apris. Tant i fu mes cuers ententis Que bien soc prendre mon consel Et a la lune et au solec, Si sai tos encantemens fare, Deviner et conoistre en l’ar[e] Quanques dou mois peut avenir. (ll. 4933-48)122

In addition to possessing knowledge rare for women of her position, she was of unparalleled beauty. Blessed with grace, fine features, fair skin, and lustrous, golden hair,

Blanches Mains was unlike any woman Le Bel inconnu had ever seen before. He was spellbound by her persona. When Guinglain first meets her after defeating the malevolent knight, her hair is unbound, flowing freely down her back and interwoven with thread-of- gold. Framing her charming face was a crown of red roses. This is one of five descriptions of the fairy’s hair and head coverings (or lack thereof). Soon after their encounter Blanches Mains appears to Guinglain in nothing but a thin shift, “Sans guimple estoit eschevelee” (l. 2395).123 It is no surprise that the knight “Lors cuide avoir tot son plaissir” (l. 2394).124 Later, after having rescued the princess, Blonde Esmérée, from danger, Guinglain returns to the Ille d’Or to find his fairy lady awaiting his return. Once again, her hair is distinctive.

Et cevauçoit eskevelee... Et son cief avoit capiel

122 “My father was a very rich king / Who was both wise and courtly. / He never had any heir other than me, / And he loved me so dearly / That he had me learn the seven liberal arts / Until I had mastered them all. / Arithmetic, geometry, / Necromancy and astronomy / And the other arts as well. / So much did I apply myself to my lessons / That I learned to consult / Both the moon and sun, / And I know how to do all kinds of enchantments / And to divine and to know in the sky / That which may happen two months in the future.” 123 “Her head was uncovered, without a wimple.” 124 “Now he believed he would have his all he desired.”

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Qu’ele portoit por le calor. Ouvrés fu de mainte color— D’inde, de vert, de blanc, de bis. Bien li gardoit del caut le vis... Par deriere ot jeté ses crins Plus reluissants que nus ors fins. Sans guinple estoit ; a un fil d’or Ot galloné son cief le sor. (ll. 3966... 3972-6... 3979-82)125

This handful of descriptions of Blanche Mains and her hairstyles stands out in comparison to her romantic rival, Blonde Esmérée, and the other females encountered throughout the tale. The only description provided for Blonde Esmérée, who ultimately wins the hand of Guinglain, is that she is beautiful, although not as radiant as the fairy

Blanches Mains. The particulars of her hairstyle or coverings are unmentioned aside from the fact that the first part of her name (Blonde) indicates the golden color of her hair.

The contrast between the two heroines’ physical descriptions manifests the utter dissimilarity between the worlds represented by each woman. As Princess of Whales,

Blonde Esmérée, like Guinevere and another famous medieval queen, Iseut, is entirely rooted in feudal society and seeks Arthur’s—her liege lord—approval and directive to form a marital union with his knight, Le Bel inconnu, after his courageous rescue.

Blanches Mains, powerful queen in her own right, seeks the consent of no man; instead, she tells her lords and vassals of her intent to take Guinglain in marriage. There is an air of freedom to her character, evinced by her learning and frank sexuality. Le Bel inconnu’s decision between following his heart (Blanches Mains) and obeying his lord’s

125 “And her hair was unbound... / On her head she had a visor / That she wore because of the heat. / It was ornamented with many colors— / Indigo, green, white, and dark grey. / It protected her sight from the heat... / Her mane had been tossed loose behind her / More lustrous than any fine gold. / Without a wimple, she wore thread-of-gold / Woven throughout her golden hair.”

160 will (Blonde Esmérée) represents a decision between maintaining a legacy of vassalage or embracing the utopic Otherworld with his fairy lady. For Marie de France’s Lanval, the decision to disembark for the Otherworld, Avalun, was as easy as jumping behind his take-charge lady to ride off in the sunset. Guinglain though, born caught between the two worlds, seems destined to confront the impossibility of choosing between his two halves; his father, Gawain, remains one of Arthur’s most iconic knights, and his mother,

Blancemal, is a powerful fairy made famous in the Perceval legend. Unlike Lanval,

Guinglain settles to remain in Arthur’s court and consents to the marriage with Blonde

Esmérée. Or, rather, once Blanches Mains understands his indecision and inability to pledge himself to her after he refuses to abstain from a tourney that would call him away, she abandons him and exiles him from her kingdom with an enchantment that delivers him to a forest far away. Jilted, he has no other choice but to return to Arthur’s side and accept the bride offered by his king. In a sense, Guinglain is a knight who is incapable of choosing between love and duty. This situation is a trope that we have seen before in medieval romance; both Lancelot and Lanval balance on a tightrope between loving their lady and fulfilling their knightly duty. What is particular to Le Bel inconnu is the role that the fairy lady plays in forcing an outcome to the ultimatum.

Guinglain abandoned Blanches Mains the first time in order to continue his quest to rescue the princess Blonde Esmérée without gaining permission to depart from her court. He covertly plotted to steal away without giving a single indication to his beloved.

This departure gave the fairy a change of heart that deeply affected her future behavior toward the knight. She felt betrayed by Le Bel inconnu who revealed himself incapable of foregoing chivalric duty and honor in exchange for a place by her side, ruling her heart and her kingdom. Shortly after his departure, when Blonde Esmérée is safely in route to

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Arthur’s court and out of Guinglain’s way, he returns to the side of his fairy lady, ignorant of the dishonor he has done toward her. Blanches Mains’ ire upon his return is palpable.

“Coment !” fait cele, “Estes vos cil Qui si m’eüstes enpor vil Et qui fist si tres grant outrage A moi et a tot mon lingnage Qu’ensi de moi vos en enblastes Que congié ne me demandastes ? Et je vos fis si grant honor Que moi—en ma tere et m’amour— Mis en vostre susjection ? Molt fesistes grant mesproisson Come vilains et outrageus. Ne cuidés pas que ce soit geus... Car j’ai en cest païs asés Contes et dus, princes, casés, Qui tost vos averoient mort, U ce fust a droit u a tort, S’il vost connissoient de voir. Molt fesistes [vos] fol espoir C’ainc retorner ariere osastes Et que de rien a moi parlastes... Mais itant vos en di avant, Que jamais en vostre comant Ne serrai vers vos si souprise Que m’amors soit vers vos trop misse.” (ll. 4041-52... 4057-66... 4075-78)126

126 “’What do you mean?’ she said, ‘Are you not the man / Who used me so cheaply / And who committed such a tremendous insult / To me and my kin / As to ride away from me / Without asking my permission? / And after I had so greatly honored you / That I had placed myself, my lands, and my love / under your control? / You so grievously wronged me / Like a nasty low-life. / Do not think that this is a joke... / For I have in this land no small number / Of counts, dukes, princes, and vassals, / Who would readily see you dead, / Regardless of whether it is right or wrong, / If they truly knew you. / It was a foolish hope / For you to dare to return here / And to utter a single thing to me... / But this much I shall tell you: / Never again shall I be under your power / Nor shall I be so taken with you / As to give you my love so freely.’”

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The fairy’s monologue in this scene adequately illustrates the power she holds at her fingertips; she chastises, fully cognizant of her lover’s errors, threatens him and reasserts her dominance by reminding him of the noblemen and bondsmen pledged to support her, and explains plainly that never again shall she offer her heart so liberally and unguardedly. In this moment, with her hair wildly unbound, she is lord and ruler, subject to no man, master of her heart, and executor of her own will. Their relationship is irrevocably changed, and Blanches Mains is no longer naïve in regard to Guinglain’s sense of duty and honor toward Arthur and the social ties of feudalism.

After her merciless verbal rebuke, Blanches Mains decides to punish Guinglain further by sending him terrifyingly realistic nightmares that result in him sleep walking and being found in embarrassing situations throughout the castle. The fairy acknowledges to Guinglain that her mystical education and use of enchantments allowed her to manipulate his dream state for the purpose of teaching him a lesson.

Cest painne vos ai je faite Que vos avés issi grant traite Por la hon[te] que [me] fes[s]istes Que vos issi de moi partistes. Et por ce vos ai ice fait: ...... Que vos engardés a tos jor[s] Que ne soiés tant fals ne lors Que dames [vei]llés esgarnir, Car vos n’en poés pas joïr. Car cil qui dames traïra Hontes et mals l’en avenra. Por ce des or vos en gardés. (ll. 4917-29)127

127 “I have caused you this great suffering / Which you have endured in this place / Because of the dishonor you did to me / When you departed from me here. / And this is why I did it: / ... / So that you forever resolve / To here on out not be so false / As to lead women astray / For you cannot get pleasure from it. / Because he who betrays women /

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The image of the lady instilling the art of love and affection into the wayward knight is also not uncommon in medieval narrative. Guinevere attempted to train Lancelot to obey her by putting him through a series of shameful trials. In another of Marie de France’s lais, Guigemar, the unnamed heroine educates the wounded eponymous hero on the art of love by tightly binding his wound and encouraging him to wear a tight-fitting, magical belt that only she can unbuckle. In Le Bel inconnu, Blanches Mains plants harrowing dreams in Guinglain’s head that lead him to act a fool, embarrassing the knight’s honor and teaching him a valuable lesson in betraying a woman’s trust. Despite her well- intended lessons and hard love, the fairy’s skill in magic and reading the skies forewarn her that Guinglain will soon leave her forever. The knight hears word of a tournament hosted by Arthur, and desires to participate. Blanches Mains firmly denies his request to leave:

“Amis, vos n’irés mie! Par mon los et par mon otroi N’irés vos pas a cel tornoi. Bien ai coneü par mon art Et des estoiles au regart Que se vos au tornoi alés, Que del tot perdue m’avés, Car la vos atent une dame Qu’Artus vos veut donner a feme.” (ll. 5344-52)128

Will receive shame and evil. / For this reason, you must guard yourself from such behavior.” 128 “My love, you must not go! / With my recommendation and with my consent / You shall not go to this joust. / For I have known through my arts / And through reading the stars / That if you go to the joust, / You will promptly lose me, / Because a lady awaits you there / Whom Arthur wishes to give you as a wife.”

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The evening Blanches Mains utters this warning, the night before Guinglain must leave if he is to make it to the tourney on time is the climax of their relationship. The subsequent action will decide the fate of all of the players involved in this romantic triangle:

Blanches Mains, who foresees what is to come, Blonde Esmérée, who anticipates a union between her and Arthur’s knight, and Guinglain, the dithering knight caught between two women and two very conflicting worlds. The wise fairy sees that once at the joust,

Guinglain will be unable to deny his liege-lord’s request to take Blonde Esmérée in marriage. Sure enough, Blanches Mains has predicted his choice and the resulting union to Blonde Esmérée, a woman whom Guinglain does not even desire because she pales in comparison to his beloved Fairy Queen. After sharing one night of passion together,

Blanches Mains casts a final enchantment on Guinglain. Despite falling asleep alongside her in bed, he awakens in a forest, far away from his beloved lady, exiled from her kingdom and her heart. After brief remorse and confusion, the knight and his squire set off for the tourney where he is a fierce champion. There, he accepts Arthur’s proposal to marry the young Welsh princess, Blonde Esmérée.

In Le Bel inconnu, Blanches Mains is the most developed female character.

Renaud de Beaujeu goes into extensive detail about her appearance, her education, and her mystical arts and creates ample dialogue for the fairy, spending a significant amount of narrative time with her in her kingdom. Comparatively, little is known about the other females mentioned in the text throughout Guinglain’s rescuing adventures. The author additionally makes it clear that, while the hero encounters and rescues numerous fair damsels, none shine as brightly as Blanches Mains in beauty and education. Since ample evidence of this fairy lady’s hairstyles is provided, we are able to determine that her sexuality is fundamental to her character. Her tendency to wear her hair loose down her

165 back and to appear without a wimple speaks to her lustful desires for Guinglain. These visible cues entice the knight and inspire in him a reciprocal desire. What makes her stand out from other heroines is her understanding that she holds power over her male counterpart. Initially, after declaring her determination to wed Le Bel inconnu, Blanches

Mains establishes firm restrictions preventing him from seeking her out in the night, only to arrive at his door to tempt and tease before leaving him unsatisfied. Later, she punishes and torments the knight with horrifying and embarrassing nightmares. Finally, knowing that he is too bound to a sense of feudal duty, she takes one night of pleasure with

Guinglain before banishing him against his will. There is no doubt that this Otherworldly fairy is sexy and full of wit. While in the end she does not retain her prized knight, she does maintain her dignity and concludes her relationship with Guinglain on her own terms. While Blonde Esmérée seeks Arthur’s assent and enlists his authority to lure

Guinglain into a marriage, Blanches Mains needs the approval of no man and uses her own authority to negotiate and entice the knight. Just as Lanval’s fairy lady in Marie de

France’s lai, de Beaujeu’s Blanches Mains is a woman apart, full of authority and unapologetic about her open desire.

Conclusion

Pam Whitfield describes two types of female power found in Marie de France’s

Lanval and Eliduc. The fairy queen in the former lai demonstrates the same assertive power evinced by the fairy in Le Bel inconnu. Whitfield acknowledges that the Fairy

Queen’s power exists outside of the institution of feudalism, by virtue of her beauty and autonomy. Whitfield concludes that “She moves outside [feudalism’s] confines and rules, suggesting a power that may be available to women in future” (243). Meanwhile, we

166 have seen how Eliduc’s first wife “wields a more spiritual, passive power” based in generosity and sisterhood (243). This second type of power, which endeavors to cultivate bonds among and between women, represents “the limited power available to women in

Marie’s age” (243). Additionally, I argue that Flamenca shows a type of in-between power, neither assertive nor passive, but entirely centered upon her own self-interest and reliant on her ability to remain incognito and manipulate social customs. What all of these women, both fairy and mortal, demonstrate is a potential for women to improve their fortunes.

Drawing upon Whitfield’s conclusions, a spectrum of female power, defined by the various heroines discussed above, emerges. Guildeluëc and her story remain not only as a how-to for repudiated medieval wives, but also as proof that women during this time were able to attain some level of independence within their community. While obtaining a position such as Guildeluëc’s was surely not a solution available to every medieval woman, Marie de France’s lai shows that for select women, power and sisterhood were attainable. It is possible that Marie’s heroine was inspired by the real, famous, twelfth- century scholar and wife of Peter Abelard, Héloïse, who was ultimately shipped away from the limelight in Paris when her amorous liaison to the churchman became a widespread scandal. She was awarded the position of prioress and oversaw the running of the abbey in Argenteuil, France. Historian Georges Duby likewise indicates that

Héloïse’s chance in becoming prioress is directly due to her social position. He states,

“We know that in 1129 she was prioress of the nunnery of Argenteuil, an important position which she owed to her high birth” (Women of the Twelfth Century 42). Further research into class structure within monastic life would certainly reveal inequalities and disadvantages for non-aristocratic women in regard to their attaining a position of head

167 abbess like Guildeluëc in Eliduc or like Héloïse. Nonetheless, this chapter has demonstrated that certain, privileged women were able to rise into positions of more authority, beyond the yoke of men and husbands.

If freedom through monastic life represents the more accessible end of the spectrum that I describe, the Otherworld stands at the opposite end as a satire of the male- centric feudal system dominant in medieval Christendom and as a model of what functioning system of female power could resemble. When read with the perspective of feminist literary critique, these examples of medieval literature illuminate the lack of choice and opportunity available to women during the Middle Ages. The juxtaposition of feudal society and the Otherworld throughout contemporaneous literature conveys the idea that there is no place for women to hold power within a male-centered social organization. This suggests that in order to grasp true power, women must break off from existing political and religious institutions and entirely reconstruct and restructure society. This notion is in line with Audre Lorde’s understanding that female knowledge is suppressed by patriarchy. The medieval Otherworld is a land where the erotic, as described by Lorde, is freely expressed.

I cannot agree with the scholars who have read Marie’s lais as a pessimistic renunciation of female power. Reading into the conclusions of Marie’s œuvre, Heather

Arden, for example, states that “It now becomes clear, when we consider the complex way in which the lais reach their resolutions, that Marie’s possible challenge to patriarchal society was an ambivalent one, and that she was ultimately realistic-even pessimistic- about the scope of women’s sphere of action” (Arden 8-9). The denouements to her narratives, on the contrary, reveal incredible potential for female unity, success, and advancement while often critiquing maliciousness and fighting between women.

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Marie’s objective is seeing justice served to the guilty and corrupt, regardless of their gender. Part of her sense of justice just happens to include disavowal of feudalism and the promotion of worthy women.

Female monasticism is just one possible channel for female empowerment advocated by Marie de France’s narratives. The idea that this power can be obtained through covering the head is of particular importance to this study. What it reveals is that the sexualization of female hair in medieval culture limits female mobility, autonomy, and advancement. The cloister allowed women to divorce themselves from the intrinsic sexuality of womanhood. Indeed, Penelope Johnson indicates that nuns expressly disassociated with gender in order to better direct their actions and attention to God

(229). According to Johnson, female monastics identified less with one gender or another than with becoming one specific class within society (229). Nuns were to become a class of morality and charity; serving God by serving their community.

The presence of strong female characters with agency whose hair styles and dress lie outside the bounds of respectable and moral codes further evince how women’s hair in literature can convey strong meaning. Blanche Mains and Lanval’s fairy lady show that women can freely express their sexual desire and control access to their body and sexuality. The fairy queens of the Otherworld have tapped into a source similar to the erotic. Lorde describes this force as “an assertion of the lifeforce of women; of that creative energy empowered, the knowledge and use of which we are now reclaiming in our language, our history, our dancing, our loving, our work, our lives” (341). Blanche

Mains in particular, with her wealth of knowledge and power, personifies the woman asserting the lifeforce found within the erotic. The unbound hair of these female characters communicates to the love interest, as well as to the audience, that these women

169 are sexually charged and available. The fairies spurning and chastising their lovers is a prime example of women denying men’s desire and male right to access to women. This shows that female hair is not a tool to be exploited by men as seen in Le chevalier de la charrette and Cligès; nor is women’s sexuality subject to male control. Instead, women can reimagine the social order, situating women on higher ground, or tap into the erotic as a source of power to wield in daily life.

Just as how female hair can be exploited for male pleasure and profit and abused and transformed into a symbol of pain and punishment, it can also be a means of elevation in limited situations when employed by women as an expression of their desire and will to control their own body. This chapter establishes that for the medieval woman there was hope, however small, that women could move beyond their status as objects and their lack of opportunities during the Middle Ages. To some extent transcendence was a possibility. Literature provided not only a model to work toward, but also an escape into the Otherworld where women are able to wield glorious knowledge and power and freely express their desire. Because literary tradition favors tales of the aristocracy, narrative evidence does not exist for women of lower status obtaining this type of independence.

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Conclusion

This research project was born out of a desire to delve deeper into female sexuality as it is presented and represented in medieval literature in order to glean new understanding about women, the female body and sexuality, and relationships of power between the sexes at a time when culture was evolving and flourishing, and the Church was cementing its grip on politics and policy. My objective was to specifically address how women’s hair in literature denotes female sexuality and to untangle the narrative conveyed by long, glorious tresses, head-coverings, and braids. My proposition being that beneath the images of female hair in literature resides a narrative of dominance. In undertaking this research project, I sought to deconstruct the relationships of power that existed between the sexes in medieval French culture. Hair is just one possible avenue to critique and analyze the literature produced during this period. While sexuality is a growing topic of research across academia and within medieval studies, this is the first comprehensive look into hair as a locus of sexuality in some of the major works of literature of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.

In this conclusion, I will touch upon the outcomes of my research and their larger implications in medieval gender and sexuality studies and draw conclusions based upon my findings. I will also offer recommendations for personal future research and for research related to my field of study. Finally, I will explain how my research builds upon

171 and contributes to existing research on female sexuality and fills a gap that previously existed in medieval scholarship.

While reading Chrétien de Troyes’ Cligés for the first time, I was immediately struck by Soredamors’ handiwork and the eroticization of her strand of golden hair.

Certain that there must be more instances of eroticized tresses in medieval romance, I began to see women’s hair everywhere in medieval French literature. As I continued to search for hair, I noticed that it was sexualized, violated, worshipped, manipulated, desired, sought-after, braided, unbound, and sometimes covered-up. Familiar with Jane

Burn’s approach to literary analysis of material objects to reveal information about the female body and courtly love, I found myself curious about the prevalence of references to women’s hair and what underlying messages could be combed out of these narratives and surprised at the lack of research on this topic. After selecting my corpus for research,

I saw three major trends and possibilities surrounding hair, all of which were tied to sexuality: Firstly, hair is kinky. Most often in the romance genre, female hair is idolized, desired, eroticized, and fetishized by male characters. Secondly, women in French medieval literature are severely disciplined for sexual misconduct. This punishment is commonly played out through physical abuse to the body and violent tearing, cutting, or removal of female hair. Finally, women are able to carefully plan and manipulate their hair so as to lend themselves more power, autonomy, and authority. Each of the three scenarios is linked to power, dominance, and control, indicating that there is a direct link between hair, sexuality, and power in medieval French literature.

The main objective in my dissertation research was to answer the question, “What story is being told by female hair in medieval literature?” While each chapter addresses a different thematic take on female chevelure, they are cohesive in their aim at exploring

172 the interconnectedness of hair, power, and sexuality because the narrative told by hair is one of sex, control, and dominance. Not only can the origins of this be traced back to antiquity, relics of this tradition linger in modern Western culture.

Each analytical chapter arrived at conclusions about female hair and the treatment and status of women in medieval culture. Chapter one revealed how strands of female hair are enough to arouse male passions and desire. The knights of medieval romance achieve arousal and sexual satisfaction from contact with female hair, leading to these characters gaining a sense of empowerment and mastery. There are obvious parallels between the adoration and veneration of female hair and the frenzied reverence for holy relics during this time. It is as if the female body is saintly and their strands of hair are precious relics with the potential to preform powerful miracles. The carnal devotion expressed by male literary characters for female hair subtly serves male interests, competitiveness, and self-promotion behind the guise of courtly love.

Chapter two revealed the disturbing punishment dealt to women and their bodies and hair for sexual misconduct. Humorous and diverting genres evince the harsh reality of female inferiority and status as possessions in male-dominated households. Female sexuality is subject to discipline in a way that is not equaled with men. This chapter reinforces the church’s stance that the only acceptable form of female sexuality is found in the marital bed. Centuries later, feminist scholar Gayle Rubin argues that this type of sexuality- heterosexuality, between married individuals exclusively for reproductive purposes is the only acceptable sexuality (152-54). Clearly the origins of this “charmed circle” of sexual practices is born out of medieval church and legal doctrine on sexuality popularized by literary productions. For the women outliers, punished for their aberrant

173 desires and practices, shaved hair becomes an external, public representation of their internal immorality.

The final chapter explores the possibility of women as agents of their own desire and will. Although the examples are not numerous, there is evidence that mostly elite women could access some level of subordination and autonomy from the oppression and constraints of male-dominated feudal society. I identified two situations that lend agency to female characters: subversion of religion and religious paraphernalia and fairy queens of the Otherworld. The first group of women who find refuge and liberation by undermining religion wield soft power, working within the system to gain small amounts of power and agency. The fairies of the Otherworld, on the other hand, are emboldened and do not hesitate to express their desire, sexual and other. These empowered fairies illustrate that feudalism is poisoned by toxic masculinity and only in the Otherworld, this un-feudal paradise, can women transcend and exert true power. In the end, female hair exposes a variety of telling narratives and contributesto our understanding of women, both real and literary, of the Middle Ages.

My analysis of hair and sexuality opens up possibilities for more research to be conducted surrounding medieval sexuality and material culture. Chapters two and three addressed the fact that class plays an important role in how female sexuality is perceived and portrayed in literature. Class directly factors into women’s ability to sidestep punishment and status paves the way for women to find increased opportunity and autonomy. Without doubt, there is ample literary evidence to investigate in more detail the intertextuality of class and sexuality. The role of the prostitute, in particular, is often neglected by history and research because of her positioning on the fringes of society.

She is starting to be given more attention and deserves continued investigation into her

174 lifestyle and the opportunities that were available to her including what initially led her to that particular vocation.

My research candidly focuses solely on female sexuality, but it would be valuable to the field of medieval and sexuality studies to extend the idea of class relations even further by considering the relationship between class and male sexuality in order to deconstruct power relationships between men. Much research has already been conducted on the peculiar homosocial relationship between lords and vassals, but there is a lacuna surrounding sexuality of the non-elite, non-warrior classes. What relationships of power exist between the aristocrat and the peasant? Just as how popular literature favors stories of aristocratic heroines, queens, and affluent fairies, male characters in cornerstone texts are often wealthy kings, lords, or knights born into a privileged lifestyle. The “average- joes” of the period are marginalized, villainized, or absent.

One final category that merits further research is an extension of the research I conducted here on female sexuality. The prevalence of medieval tales of gender-bending women assuredly would reveal much about power dynamics between men and women during the Middle Ages. Comparing narratives of women dressing as men with those of men dressing as women would allow for a direct view of the disparities between genders if they indeed exist in this instance. My hypothesis would be that men were able to dress as women to comedic effect, but the reverse would not have been true for women.

Because men were perceived as the dominant, higher sex, women dressing as men would be equivalent to an attempt to usurp power that they were not born to possess and would therefore be severely punished. The non-fictional story of Joan of Arc provides true

175 evidence for the threat posed by women who dress and act as men.129 There are, admittedly, articles and studies conducted on women dressing as men in medieval literature, but the research I am suggesting would involve a larger corpus and provide more in-depth analysis specific to sexuality and power dynamics.

The main purpose of this dissertation has been to shed light on female sexuality through a perspective that has previously been overlooked. Hair, as a part of the body and as an aspect of material culture through how it is styled and adorned, is universally recognized as sexy and erotic before, throughout, and beyond the Middle Ages. While trends and styles change and evolve, the fact that hair has the power to seduce and enchant remains stable. It therefore merits the focus it is given in this body of research.

Women, as well, often treated as passive accessories, deserve to be brought out of the shadows to untangle the narrative web told through their tresses. Decoding the female body coded in literature is something that Jane Burns seeks to do in her book Bodytalk:

When Women Speak in Old French Literature. She lays out her goal to “provide the feminist reader of medieval literary texts with a strategy for interpreting the female body... by listening to what it says” (7). It is in this manner that I decode the narratives told by female hair.

My research contributes to medieval studies by uncovering the covert significance of hair and applying gender and sexuality theory to medieval literature in order to demonstrate the insight on female sexuality woven into the narratives told by women and their hair. This approach and methodology pave the way for other scholars, as well as

129 Despite naysayers seeking to discredit the young woman’s visions from God and her passion to protect her country, Joan of Arc was canonized as a saint after being burnt at the stake by the British in 1431. Today she is revered as pivotal French icon representing true French spirit and patriotism.

176 myself, to further pursue this topic and open doors to the field of medieval feminist studies. It is my hope that future research will continue to unveil and unravel the intricacies of gender and sexuality constructed during the Middle Ages.

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Biography

Leslie Anderson hails from Louisville, Kentucky where horses run fast, and grass grows blue. She completed her undergraduate work at the University of Louisville in

2011 and was awarded a B.A. in French and a B.S. in Anthropology. She earned a M.A. in French from the University of Louisville in 2014 and began her doctoral studies at

Tulane University that same year. Her research interests include medieval gender and sexuality, women’s dress and fashion history, Old French literature, and écriture féminine. She currently teaches French at Bellarmine University in her hometown,

Louisville, Kentucky.