Gawain and the Green Knight, page 2
With Gawain’s return to Camelot, the court’s display of this second symbol of Gawain’s courage (the girdle paralleling the axe), and the reference, as at the beginning, to the legendary founding of Britain by Brutus, the poem has come full circle and has completed the pattern of parallels around which it is so artfully structured.
Modern Renderings of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
Though The Grene Knight (which is printed later in this volume) is the only medieval work to show direct influence of SGGK, quite a few modern authors and artists have responded to the earlier romance or reworked it in verse, drama, opera, fiction and film. Such adaptation, however, did not begin until early in the twentieth century. SGGK was virtually unknown in the modern period until it was edited for the first time in 1839 by Frederic Madden, who gave it the name by which it has been known ever since. Of course, it was some time after Madden’s edition before the poem was widely read and recognized as the masterpiece that it is. The monumental 1925 edition of SGGK by J.R.R. Tolkien and E.V. Gordon was instrumental in introducing it into classrooms and to a wider audience.
In the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, illustrated editions, translations and adaptations of SGGK abound. Poets such as Yvor Winters and Loren Eiseley, novelists such as Thomas Berger, Iris Murdoch and Vera Chapman, and several dramatists (including David Harsent, whose verse play Gawain was written as a libretto for music by Harrison Birtwistle) have been inspired by SGGK.
There have also been three films based on SGGK. Two of them were directed by Stephen Weeks. The first of these, Gawain and the Green Knight (1973), starring rock singer Murray Head as Sir Gawain, inserts into the middle of the events of the medieval poem an episode borrowed from Chrétien’s Yvain. A decade later, Stephen Weeks remade his version of SGGK as Sword of the Valiant: The Legend of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (1983), starring Sean Connery as the Green Knight and Miles O’Keeffe as Sir Gawain. This version adds to the plot an elaborate riddle that the Green Knight poses to Gawain, the solving of which would free him from the return stroke. Like these two films, The Green Knight (2021), directed by David Lowery and starring Dev Patel as Gawain, adds material not in the poem – the story of St. Winifred, for example – and it radically alters Gawain’s story, in the process removing much of the poem’s exuberant joy.
None of these adaptations comes close to the quality of SGGK, yet the numerous illustrated versions and the reworkings of its story in a variety of genres are a testament to its brilliance.
Alan Lupack (Introduction) is the author of The Oxford Guide to Arthurian Literature and Legend. Former President of the North American Branch of the International Arthurian Society, he is co-author (with Barbara Tepa Lupack) of King Arthur in America and editor of medieval and post-medieval Arthurian texts. He is the Associate editor of the TEAMS Middle English Texts series and the creator of the electronic database The Camelot Project.
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
The translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (SGGK) that appears in this volume was written by Jesse Weston, who is best known today for her once influential study From Ritual to Romance (1920). Although her approach – seeing the Grail stories as Christianized versions of a pagan fertility rite – and most of the conclusions of her book have since been rejected by scholars, it did influence the most influential modern Grail poem, T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land (1922).
Weston, who herself wrote a Grail poem, ‘Knights of King Arthur’s Court’, that celebrated Perceval’s spirituality, had a wide-ranging knowledge of texts and was more conversant with medieval romance than almost any other scholar of her day. Her translations of ‘romances unrepresented in Malory’ included SGGK and some of the other Gawain episodes in this volume. In addition to her study of the grail legend, she also wrote monographs on Lancelot and Perceval and one on Gawain (titled The Legend of Sir Gawain: Studies upon Its Original Scope and Significance – some chapters of which are included in this book), whom she considered ‘one of the most puzzling, and at the same time most fascinating, characters of the Arthurian cycle’.
Even if we do not accept all of her conclusions, she made valuable contributions to the study of Arthurian literature by considering, in her scholarly writings, texts in many languages – thus emphasizing the undeniable intertextuality of those stories – and by making accessible to the English-speaking world, through her translations, French, German, and Dutch Arthurian romances.
Preface
The poem of which the following pages offer a prose rendering is contained in a MS., believed to be unique, of the Cottonian Collection, Nero A. X., preserved in the British Museum. The MS. is of the end of the fourteenth century, but it is possible that the composition of the poem is somewhat earlier; the subject matter is certainly of very old date. There has been a considerable divergence of opinion among scholars on the question of authorship, but the view now generally accepted is that it is the work of the same hand as Pearl, another poem of considerable merit contained in the same MS.
Our poem, or, to speak more correctly, metrical romance, contains over 2500 lines, and is composed in staves of varying length, ending in five short rhyming lines, technically known as a bob and a wheel, – the lines forming the body of the stave being not rhyming, but alliterative. The dialect in which it is written has been decided to be West Midland, probably Lancashire, and is by no means easy to understand. Indeed, it is the real difficulty and obscurity of the language, which in spite of careful and scholarly editing will always place the poem in its original form outside the range of any but professed students of mediaeval literature, which has encouraged me to make an attempt to render it more accessible to the general public, by giving it a form that shall be easily intelligible, and at the same time preserve as closely as possible the style of the author.
For that style, in spite of a certain roughness, unavoidable at a period in which the language was still in a partially developed and amorphous stage, is really charming. The author has a keen eye for effect; a talent for description, detailed without becoming wearisome; a genuine love of Nature and sympathy with her varying moods; and a real refinement and elevation of feeling which enable him to deal with a risqué situation with an absence of coarseness, not, unfortunately, to be always met with in a mediaeval writer. Standards of taste vary with the age, but even judged by that of our own day the author of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight comes not all too badly out of the ordeal!
The story with which the poem deals, too, has claims upon our interest. I have shown elsewhere [in The Legend of Sir Gawain, Grimm Library, Vol. VII. (Chapter IX. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight)] that the beheading challenge is an incident of very early occurrence in heroic legend, and that the particular form given to it in the English poem is especially interesting, corresponding as it does to the variations of the story as preserved in the oldest known version, that of the old Irish Fled Bricrend.
But in no other version is the incident coupled with that of a temptation and testing of the hero’s honour and chastity, such as meets us here. At first sight one is inclined to assign the episode of the lady of the castle to the class of stories of which the oldest version is preserved in Biblical record – the story of Joseph and Potiphar’s wife; a motif not unseldom employed by mediaeval writers, and which notably occurs in what we may call the Launfal group of stories. But there are certain points which may make us hesitate as to whether in its first conception the tale was really one of this class.
It must be noted that here the lady is acting throughout with the knowledge and consent of the husband, an important point of difference. In the second place, it is very doubtful whether her entire attitude was not a ruse. From the Green Knight’s words to Gawain when he finally reveals himself, “I wot we shall soon make peace with my wife, who was thy bitter enemy,” her conduct hardly seems to have been prompted by real passion.
In my Studies on the Legend of Sir Gawain, already referred to, I have suggested that the character of the lady here is, perhaps, a reminiscence of that of the Queen of the Magic Castle or Isle, daughter or niece of an enchanter, who at an early stage of Gawain’s story was undoubtedly his love. I think it not impossible that she was an integral part of the tale as first told, and her rôle here was determined by that which she originally played. In most versions of the story she has dropped out altogether. It is, of course, possible that, there being but a confused reminiscence of the original tale, her share may have been modified by the influence of the Launfal group; but I should prefer to explain the episode on the whole as a somewhat distorted survival of an original feature.
But in any case we may be thankful for this, that the author of the most important English metrical romance dealing with Arthurian legend faithfully adheres to the original conception of Gawain’s character, as drawn before the monkish lovers of edification laid their ruthless hands on his legend, and turned the model of knightly virtues and courtesy into a mere vulgar libertine.
Brave, chivalrous, loyally faithful to his plighted word, scrupulously heedful of his own and others’ honour, Gawain stands before us in this poem. We take up Malory or Tennyson, and in spite of their charm of style, in spite of the halo of religious mysticism in which they have striven to enwrap their characters, we lay them down with a feeling of dissatisfaction. How did the Gawain of their imagination, this empty-headed, empty-hearted worldling, cruel murderer, and treacherous friend, ever come to be the typical English hero? For such Gawain certainly was, even more than Arthur himself. Then we turn back to these faded pages, and read the quaintly earnest words in which the old writer reveals the hidden meaning of that mystic symbol, the pentangle, and vindicates Gawain’s title to claim it as his badge – and we smile, perhaps; but we cease to wonder at the widespread popularity of King Arthur’s famous nephew, or at the immense body of romance that claims him as its hero.
Scholars know all this, of course; they can read the poem for themselves in its original rough and intricate phraseology; perhaps they will be shocked at an attempt to handle it in simpler form. But this little book is not for them, and if to those to whom the tale would otherwise be a sealed treasure these pages bring some new knowledge of the way in which our forefathers looked on the characters of the Arthurian legend, the tales they told of them (unconsciously betraying the while how they themselves lived and thought and spoke) – if by that means they gain a keener appreciation of our national heroes, a wider knowledge of our national literature, – then the spirit of the long-dead poet will doubtless not be the slowest to pardon my handling of what was his masterpiece, as it is, in M. Gaston Paris’ words, “The jewel of English medieval literature.”.
Jessie L. Weston
Bournemouth, June 1898
Part I
Of the Making of Britain
After the siege and the assault of Troy, when that burg was destroyed and burnt to ashes, and the traitor slain for his treason, the noble Aeneas and his kin sailed forth to become princes and patrons of well-nigh all the Western Isles. Thus Romulus built Rome (and gave to the city his own name, which it bears even to this day); and Ticius turned him to Tuscany; and Langobard raised him up dwellings in Lombardy; and Felix Brutus sailed far over the French flood, and founded the kingdom of Britain, wherein have been war and waste and wonder, and bliss and bale, oft-times since.
And in that kingdom of Britain have been wrought more gallant deeds than in any other; but of all British kings Arthur was the most valiant, as I have heard tell, therefore will I set forth a wondrous adventure that fell out in his time. And if ye will listen to me, but for a little while, I will tell it even as it stands in story stiff and strong, fixed in the letter, as it hath long been known in the land.
How Arthur Held High Feast at Camelot
King Arthur lay at Camelot upon a Christmas-tide, with many a gallant lord and lovely lady, and all the noble brotherhood of the Round Table. There they held rich revels with gay talk and jest; one while they would ride forth to joust and tourney, and again back to the court to make carols;1 for there was the feast holden fifteen days with all the mirth that men could devise, song and glee, glorious to hear, in the daytime, and dancing at night. Halls and chambers were crowded with noble guests, the bravest of knights and the loveliest of ladies, and Arthur himself was the comeliest king that ever held a court. For all this fair folk were in their youth, the fairest and most fortunate under heaven, and the king himself of such fame that it were hard now to name so valiant a hero.
New Year’s Day
Now the New Year had but newly come in, and on that day a double portion was served on the high table to all the noble guests, and thither came the king with all his knights, when the service in the chapel had been sung to an end. And they greeted each other for the New Year, and gave rich gifts, the one to the other (and they that received them were not wroth, that may ye well believe!), and the maidens laughed and made mirth till it was time to get them to meat. Then they washed and sat them down to the feast in fitting rank and order, and Guinevere the queen, gaily clad, sat on the high daïs. Silken was her seat, with a fair canopy over her head, of rich tapestries of Tars, embroidered, and studded with costly gems; fair she was to look upon, with her shining grey eyes, a fairer woman might no man boast himself of having seen.
But Arthur would not eat till all were served, so full of joy and gladness was he, even as a child; he liked not either to lie long, or to sit long at meat, so worked upon him his young blood and his wild brain. And another custom he had also, that came of his nobility, that he would never eat upon an high day till he had been advised of some knightly deed, or some strange and marvellous tale, of his ancestors, or of arms, or of other ventures. Or till some knight should seek of him leave to joust with another, that they might set their lives in jeopardy, one against another, as fortune might favour them. Such was the king’s custom when he sat in hall at each high feast with his noble knights, therefore on that New Year tide, he abode, fair of face, on the throne, and made much mirth withal.
Of the Noble Knights There Present
Thus the king sat before the high table, and spake of many things; and there good Sir Gawain was seated by Guinevere the queen, and on her other side sat Agravain,2 à la dure main; both were the king’s sister’s sons and full gallant knights. And at the end of the table was Bishop Bawdewyn, and Ywain, King Urien’s son, sat at the other side alone. These were worthily served on the daïs, and at the lower tables sat many valiant knights. Then they bare the first course with the blast of trumpets and waving of banners, with the sound of drums and pipes, of song and lute, that many a heart was uplifted at the melody. Many were the dainties, and rare the meats, so great was the plenty they might scarce find room on the board to set on the dishes. Each helped himself as he liked best, and to each two were twelve dishes, with great plenty of beer and wine.
The Coming of the Green Knight
Now I will say no more of the service, but that ye may know there was no lack, for there drew near a venture that the folk might well have left their labour to gaze upon. As the sound of the music ceased, and the first course had been fitly served, there came in at the hall door one terrible to behold, of stature greater than any on earth; from neck to loin so strong and thickly made, and with limbs so long and so great that he seemed even as a giant. And yet he was but a man, only the mightiest that might mount a steed; broad of chest and shoulders and slender of waist, and all his features of like fashion; but men marvelled much at his colour, for he rode even as a knight, yet was green all over.
The Fashion of the Knight
For he was clad all in green, with a straight coat, and a mantle above; all decked and lined with fur was the cloth and the hood that was thrown back from his locks and lay on his shoulders. Hose had he of the same green, and spurs of bright gold with silken fastenings richly worked; and all his vesture was verily green. Around his waist and his saddle were bands with fair stones set upon silken work, ’twere too long to tell of all the trifles that were embroidered thereon – birds and insects in gay gauds of green and gold.
Of the Knight’s Steed
All the trappings of his steed were of metal of like enamel, even the stirrups that he stood in stained of the same, and stirrups and saddle-bow alike gleamed and shone with green stones. Even the steed on which he rode was of the same hue, a green horse, great and strong, and hard to hold, with broidered bridle, meet for the rider.
The knight was thus gaily dressed in green, his hair falling around his shoulders, on his breast hung a beard, as thick and green as a bush, and the beard and the hair of his head were clipped all round above his elbows. The lower part of his sleeves were fastened with clasps in the same wise as a king’s mantle. The horse’s mane was crisped and plaited with many a knot folded in with gold thread about the fair green, here a twist of the hair, here another of gold. The tail was twined in like manner, and both were bound about with a band of bright green set with many a precious stone; then they were tied aloft in a cunning knot, whereon rang many bells of burnished gold. Such a steed might no other ride, nor had such ever been looked upon in that hall ere that time; and all who saw that knight spake and said that a man might scarce abide his stroke.
