Same Old Story... Or Is It?

It’s a pity that finding George MacDonald in his unabridged entirety is almost impossible (unless, of course, you are willing to read online at a site like Project Gutenberg but I just can’t accept not having the feel of a book in my hands). I have read people who say he was not a very good writer and often rambled, but what exactly is meant by this I am unsure of. The unabridged fantasies and children’s stories I have read are perfectly fine for Victorian literature. I have a suspicion that what is meant is that authors now-a-days don’t write like that. A fairly obvious point; no one writes like Shakespeare now either.

All this to say I read another (abridged, of course) MacDonald Novel: A Quiet Neighborhood. One flaw I do find in MacDonald is that all his realistic stories start to sound the same after a while. A young gentleman (in this case and a few others a clergyman) falls in love with a beautiful (and usually rich) young lady and after a little mystery or family secret is cleared up they wed and live happily ever after. What keeps the invariable routine bearable after 15 novels are the inner dilemmas every MacDonald hero faces (and many of the minor characters as well).

In A Quiet Neighborhood Mr. Walton must struggle to find the purpose of his life and how to help those under his care. Helping others means, among other things, reconciling father to son, daughter to father, and interestingly, separating daughter from grandmother. There is an apparent contradiction here, perhaps intended by MacDonald. A quarter of the book is devoted to restoring the relationships of a family in Mr. Walton’s parish but the climax of the action is an elopement with the heroine, Miss Oldcastle, from her tyrannical, abusive grandmother.

The importance of relationships is definitely a major theme of the story. Apparently there are two sequels to this book that I hope to read some day.

Do We Have Common Sense?

That’s the question my sister and I asked after our teacher assigned us Thomas Paine’s inflammatory Common Sense treatise. In the end we had to admit that no, we didn’t have it. So we went to the internet and found it. To bad the other kind of common sense isn’t that easy to get a hold of. We’re still looking…

Common Sense is one of those writings that most people have head of but few have actually read (come to think of it, a lot of books are that way). Common sense is one of those things that most people have heard about but few have actually used (did I just repeat myself?). As inaudible groans passed from desk to desk in our classroom, I secretly felt elated. Paine is not perhaps the sort of writer I would normally read in my free time but as an assignment I felt sure I would enjoy the experience. And I wasn’t wrong.

Pain is pretty easy to get through (oops, I mean Paine). It was written for the common man and sold something like 120,000 copies. (Our teacher said that each copy was reads by about ten people but I don’t know where she got that statistic). The pamphlet is only about 50 pages so in theory it could be read in one sitting. In fact, it took me two and I felt hurried during both. There is a lot to think about.

Supposedly, Common Sense was like gasoline thrown on the newly kindled fire of American independence. Already stirred by British injustice and heavy-handedness, they only needed a philosophical base to build their complaints against the English government on.

Paine argues that if all men are created equal, no men should be elevated above others. “The heathens paid divine honors to their deceased kings and the Christian world has improved on the plan by doing the same to their living ones. How impious is the title of Sacred Majesty applied to a worm, who in the midst of his splendor is crumbling.”

Although primarily arguing on the basis of reason and nature (“Does not nature teach us that the more simple anything is, the less liable it is to be disordered, and the easier repaired when disordered.”) Paine takes the story of 1 Samuel 8 where the Israelites asked for a king to be like the other nations, as a clear indication that God does not think kings to be the best governors of men. He allowed them to have one but tried to warn them it was a curse. For a king will “take your sons and make them serve…He will take your daughters…He will take the best of your fields and vineyards…He will take a tenth of your grain and your vintage…He will take a tenth of your flocks, and you yourselves will become slaves” (1 Sam. 8:11-17). Also, Paine points out, the succession is not hereditary as the removal of Saul proves.

From this general condemnation of kings he moves to the unjustness of the present king of England, King George III. He mocks the English Constitution as being powerless to stop the King, saying that it is the “constitution” of the English people, not the “Constitution” of the English government that has kept her free so long.

Moving to the practical and economic benefits of independence, Paine assures his readers that trade would be increased and expansion to the west made possible; and a free America would not be in danger from Britain’s enemies, France and Spain. All around it would be a good deal. And I can not help but agree that it has been a good deal for over 225 years, let’s hope it continues to be for at least as much again.

After the first publication, Paine added an appendix addressed to some Quakers who wrote against breaking ties with Britain. The letter, while trying to be courteous, comes across as a little condescending and chides the Quakers for their pamphlet, saying that by defending the British they are meddling in government affairs even though they claim they are not. To the argument that it is God who sets up and deposes kings, Paine very sensibly asks in return who or what God uses to bring about his will on earth. Is it not men? He asks. If the English throne came into existence through war and backstabbing why defend it as being specially ordained of God? But then in a hilarious Chestertonian stroke he says: “We neither mean to set up nor to put down [kings], neither to make nor to unmake, but to have nothing to do with them.”

The Song of Roland condensed (but not enough)

After many years of fighting the French, the Spanish King Marsile sends a treacherous envoy to Charlemagne suing for peace and promising tribute if he goes back to France. Charlemagne is troubled by the message so he gathers his council together and asks their rede. The Count Roland:

Swift to oppose springs up upon his feet

He tells the King: “nevermore trust Marsile!...

He sent his Paynims by number fifteen,

All of them bearing boughs of the olive tree,

And with like words he sued to you for peace…

You sent the Paynim two counts of your own meinie:

Basan was one, the other was Basile.

He smote their heads off in hills beneath Haltile…

Revenge the men this villain made to bleed!

But Roland’s advice is disregarded as warmongering, instead, the advice of Ganelon and the rest of the council to accept the fealty of the Paynim King is followed. So Ganelon is sent to Saragossa to negotiate the terms of the treaty. But he is as Treacherous as the Saracens and plots with them to slay Roland against whom he has a special grudge.

Ganelon tells them that if they give Charlemagne a small surety as pledge, he will agree to withdraw his army in the belief that later, according to the terms, Marsile will convert to Christianity and be vassal to the French King. But cunning Ganelon knows that Charlemagne will leave

…behind a rearguard to protect him.

With them, I warrant, will be Roland his nephew,

Oliver too, the valorous and gentle.

Dead are these Counts, if you will give me credit.

[Charles] will see his great pride fallen and ended;

He’ll have no heart to fight with you from henceforth.

And so the treachery is conceived and sworn upon the book “of Termagant’s and Mahomet’s law."

All goes as planned. Ganelon returns and tells Charlemagne that all is settled; they can return to France and expect the Saracens to bring tribute to them there. As a standard precaution a rear-guard is stationed under the command of Roland. No one suspects an ambush, indeed, such an idea is ludicrous; Charlemagne’s army is unassailable. But it is not the King and his army Ganelon and his co-conspirators want. It is only Roland and the twenty thousand warriors with him, the flower of the French knights, they wish to kill.

At their post, Roland and Oliver suddenly hear a thousand trumpets shatter the air. Oliver climbs a nearby hill and sees the Saracen army marching against them.

Never on earth has such a hosting been:

A hundred thousand in van ride under shield

Their helmets laced, their hauberks all agleam

Their spears upright, their heads of shining steel.

He calls to Roland, bidding him blow his horn Olifant so Charlemagne can return and succor them. Roland, however, refuses in his pride to call for help, even when Oliver urges him again and again saying:

Great is the might these foreigners display,

And ours appears a very small array.

Still Roland refuses to alert the King, thinking it shameful to not carry out alone what the king had commanded.

Soon the forces draw together and the wisdom of Oliver cannot help reproach Roland one more time.

You would not sound your Olifant for pride;

Had we the Emperor we should have been alright.

To gate of Spain now turn and lift your eyes,

See for yourself the rearguard’s woeful plight.

Who fights this day will never more see fight.

Each side spurs into the other and many brave knights fall, pierced through by bloodied lances. The twelve peers of France ride reckless in the fray slaying the Paynims who in faithlessness had set upon them.

How many spears are bloodied there and broke!

What gonfalons, what banners rent and strewn!

How many French in flower of youth laid low.

At first, fortune seems to favor the French; their small company annihilates the one hundred thousand soldiers first sent against them. But having suffered heavy losses they have no chance against the rest of the Paynim army Marsile leads against them. At last only Roland, Oliver, Archbishop Turpin, and sixty others stand defending themselves. In a role reversal, Roland announces he will sound Olifant to bring tidings to Charlemagne of their fate. But Oliver objects. Since all the French lie dead excepting themselves, he argues, it would not help anyone, and it would be cowardly with death staring them in the face to wind it. The Archbishop, though, intervenes and bids Roland sound it. Since it will do them no earthly good it cannot be called cowardice, he says, yet Charlemagne will hear and return to bury them. So three times Roland blows with all his might till the blood bursts from his temples, then, hefting up his sword Durendal, he resumes the hopeless fight.

Soon, even Oliver is struck down by a spear through his back, to the grief of Roland. Alone with the dieing Archbishop, he sounds his horn one last time. The feeble echoes tell the returning Charlemagne that he is too late to save his beloved nephew. Nevertheless, when Charlemagne bids his own horns to sound in answer, the Paynims take fright and flee the field of battle, leaving Roland still alive.

But even a mighty hero cannot endure everything. Roland is faint with lose of blood and grief over seeing Oliver dead among the French slain. He sits down beneath a tree facing his retreating foe, crying out to God that He will have mercy on his soul.

And so Roland dies upon the plain of Roncevaux, but the story does not end as might be expected when the story’s hero has met his end. Charlemagne finds the silent fields of death and weeps with all his army. But Duke Naimon, councilor of the King, will not let him grieve for long. He points ahead to the dust of the retreating Paynims and urges Charlemagne to start in pursuit.

Unfortunately, dusk settles over them before overtaking their foes. Yet

For Charlemagne God wrought a wondrous token:

The sun stood still in the mid heaven holden.

So Charlemagne is able to continue the chase till they reach a river. Here the Paynims are faced with turning about and fighting or attempting to swim the river. Those who choose the water are dragged down by their heavy armor. Those who choose to fight are defeated along with a wounded Marsile who drags himself back to Saragossa.

But the seven year war is not yet at an end. Unbeknownst to both sides a great Emir, Baligant of Babylon, has sailed to Spain with a vast armada to succor Marsile.

From forty realms he’s called his people in…

And sev’nteen Kings follow at the heel.

He sends challenge to Charlemagne who is mourning yet for Roland and the other Peers. In reply, the French and their allies march to meet this new enemy arrayed by companies. Both sides boast huge armies.

By hundred thousand the swords flash into view.

Grim is the battle and terrible and rude;

He learns what war is who fights that battle through.

Finally the two kings charge each other and are thrown from their horses. After picking themselves up, Baligant lays a mighty sword stroke on Charlemagne’s helm. He reels back; blood wetting his scalp. But instead of falling, he rallies his strength and with his sword cleaves the Paynim’s skull.

All’s done, all’s won; the French have gained the day.

All quotations taken from: The Song of Roland. Translated by Dorothy Sayers. Penguin Books 1957. 1960

More Old French literature

Chretien De Troyes and what I posted about his stories got me thinking about another Old French classic I read. Although on the surface The Song of Roland has similarities (like jousts and sword fights) to Chretien De Troyes, they are really quite different in tone. Chretien's heroes are shiftless men with nothing better to with their time than pick fights with other knights and fall in love with every damsel that crosses their path. The Song of Roland, on the other hand, has men fighting with all their strength to defend themselves from an invading foe who would like nothing more than to strike their king and blaspheme their God. Then too, the battle of Roncevaux is historical while the Round Table is, at best, a dim shadow of history.

The Song of Roland, like Chretien's works, was originally written in verse. With over 4000 lines (the equivalent of 150 pages), however, it is not your typical little "Ode to a Sunset." Nor will you find any of those cute phrases and pretty descriptions common to poetry in the Roland, only the thunder of charging horses, the flash of swords unnumbered, and the smell of dust and death.

It was written around the 11th. century, or roughly a hundred years before Chretien De Troyes wrote. The unknown poet wrote it to celebrate the already legendary deeds of Charlemagne and his paladins. As you know it was Charlemagne who defended Europe against the Muslim aggression that had threatened it since the time of Charlemagne's grandfather, Charles Martel.

The Roland poet has only a cursory concern for these historical facts; his main goal as Dorothy Sayers says in an excellent introductory essay to her translation, is to portray in this French war of dubious historicity a greater ideological conflict between "Cross and Crescent" (25). But do not think such a treacherous ambush as killed Roland did not take place. A 9th. century chronicler describes such a battle and includes among the short list of the slain: "Roland duke of the marches of Brittany, together with a great many more" (7).

I need hardly say that I think the Roland superior in plot and sentiment to anything by Chretien. It is a great conflict of ideologies. Muslim and Christian worlds clashing in an epic war to decide the future of Europe.

This is probably more than you ever wanted to know about Old French history and literature. Unluckily for you, I am not done yet. In a day or two I plan (God willing) to post a synopsis of The Song of Roland that I wrote some time ago. It is rather long and needs to be typed, which explains why I am not including it in today's post.

The Song of Roland. Translated by Dorothy L. Sayers. Penguin Books 1957. 1960.

Chretien De Troyes

"Chretien De Troyes has had the peculiar fortune of becoming the best known of the old French poets to students of medieval literature, and of remaining practically unknown to anyone else." So begins the introduction to my old Everyman's edition of Chretien De Troyes' Arthurian Romances. Judge for yourself if it is true. Since I think it is true with possible exceptions (myself being one exception), a little background is called for.

Almost nothing is known of Chretien except that he was from the French town of Troyes (or wrote at Troyes, or in some other way was connected to Troyes) and that he lived during the 12th. century. His subject is the Arthurian legends, of course, of which he is the first writer we have of "the matter of Britain." Although he is the first known writer, the theme was already old and Mr. De Troyes (er, Mr. Chretien?) assumes his reader is familiar with the subject.

The subject, despite the name, has little to do with king Arthur. His court is a sort of ideal or inner circle that everyone wants to imitate or be a part of. Chivalry and knight errantry being prerequisites for membership, everyone takes to horse and sets off on a perilous quest. Among the many knights going hither and thither, Chretien follows the adventures of four: Erec, Cliges, Yvain, and Lancelot. Each character has an independent book titled after its respective hero.

To try and explain the plot of each book would just make me more confused than I already am. Besides, in many places the "plot" is just a sequences of adventures strung together. The Cliges and Erec were totally new to me and I am unaware of other versions (but there probably are some). The Lancelot, on the other hand, I thought I know a little about, but aside from the name and an infatuation with Guinever, the story could have been completely new, so unsimiliar was it to anything I had previously read about him.

No post is complete without a quote from C.S.Lewis (yes, Lewis is the only reason I know who Chretien De Troyes is). According to Lewis, Chretien "was one of the first explorers of the human heart, and is therefore rightly to be numbered among the fathers of the novel of sentiment" (29).


Lewis, C.S. The Allegory of Love: a Study in Medieval Tradition. Oxford University Press. 1968

Great Authors of the Past

When a writer cuts out all the superfluous details and stays fixed on what he really wants to say, then you know a master is at work. So consider this passage from Chretien De Troyes, a 12th. century Frenchman writing about Arthur and the Round Table. "The Vavasor [a baron's vassal with tenets under him] summons his wife and his beautiful daughter, who were busy in a work room--doing I know not what." Here, rather than tediously trying to describe their labor of sewing or spinning or cooking--whatever it was--the author quite honestly claims ignorance, saying simply: "doing I know not what." Instead he mentions the important thing, namely, that the daughter is beautiful.

Notice how the mother is not described. She is mentioned in the next sentence as "coming out with her daughter," after that she is completely dropped from the narrative. Not so the "beautiful daughter," the next 17 sentences are devoted to describing her personal appearance.

Well, maybe there is a reason people don't write like the classic authors anymore.

Rescue Your Own Shire

"You won't rescue Lotho, or the Shire, just by being shocked and sad, my dear Frodo" (353).

Moral: vote Ron Paul or Huckabee.

(Who says literature isn't applicable to life today.)


J. R. R. Tolkien, The Return of the King. Ballantine books. 57 printing 1977