Erec and Enide: Gender Politics in the Arthurian Romances

Historically, it's a role very much associated with the Bardic tradition within Druidism. Hence the Christian label may have been an emphatic piece of reassuring marketing. No-one was going to Hell for inviting him into their homes.

Which is fabulous, because most of his surviving stories are distinctly Pagan in origin. They are thinly veiled divine tales of Celtic gods and goddesses, transformed into human beings in order to live out fantastic existences. He only occasionally remembers to insert a line about the will of God.

Chrétien also displayed, in his stories, a deep understanding of ancient Celtic spirituality. Seemingly insignificant details are added - like the color of clothes and bridles - which jar the narrative when read at face value. But take on great meaning in the context of Pagan divine lore.

In Erec et Enide, as with all of his stories, Chrétien didn't assume prior knowledge of these themes. He was usually at great pains to spell out the divine clues inherent in certain symbols and appearances. Thus he allowed his French readers to follow cues that would have been universally understood in countries like Wales.

There has never been any suggestion that he invented the legend wholesale. It's commonly assumed that Chrétien had access to an earlier Celtic version of the story, either an oral rendering or a written one that did not survive the centuries.

Erec et Enide is filled with clues to its divine origin. It was a story about the Goddess of Sovereignty (Enide) setting out a series of challenges in order to test a champion. A potential ruler (Erec) had to prove his worth, before he gained Her support for his monarchy. He was then ritually wedded to the land.

However, it doesn't quite read like that anymore. Chrétien de Troyes wrote for his audience and changed the context for the Arthurian legends forever.

It is primarily from the work of Chrétien de Troyes that the Arthurian legends are transposed onto a Medieval courtly world. Knights in shining armor hold tournaments, and act so chivalrously to their damsels. They all live in castles. Their fashions, activities and systems of government owe nothing at all to the ancient Celts.

It was a setting designed to be familiar to Medieval French aristocrats. Readers and audiences could well imagine themselves within these stories. They could aspire to be those heroes and heroines. The values inherent in the Arthurian legends sought to underscore the notions of court etiquette in 12th century France, hence all the references to chivalry.

Between 1160 and 1172, Chrétien de Troyes effectively became the in-house bard of Marie de France, the Countess of Champagne. Everything he wrote had to pass her approval. In 1170, that included Erec et Enide.

Or, to put it another way, this apparently misogynist prose was sanctioned - and welcomed enough to warrant its survival - by a woman. Moreover, Marie de France, in today's parlance, would be viewed as a Feminist.

If she merrily allowed Enide to pout prettily and suffer so much, under the testosterone fueled deprivations of Erec, then Marie de France patently had a context missing in the modern world.

Marie de France was Eleanor's eldest child. She witnessed first hand how well her mother brought kings to heel; dominated the traditionally male world of governance; and asserted her will on, well, just about everything.

An extremely intelligent woman, Marie was fluent in at least French, Latin and Breton. She collected manuscripts and books, creating her own library. Her competency in governance and politics may be attested by the fact that her husband, Henry I of Champagne, left her in charge, when he went on a three year pilgrimage to the Holy Land.

Like her mother, Marie de France ruled her people. She was regent of Champagne for nearly a decade, between 1179-1187, on behalf of first her husband, then her young son. When her half-brother, Philip II of France, sought to ride roughshod over her plans, she rose in armed rebellion against him.

Despite what a surface reading of the Arthurian Romances might attest, Marie de France was not a woman given to merely accepting female docility.

Medieval literature exulted the ideal woman as chaste and meek ornamentation, powerless amid the machinations of men. They existed solely to be the prize in clashes - snatched as plunder or offered in marriage to the winner - or else acted as the objectified catalyst for male emotions. Medieval literary heroines were pretty two-dimensional. Individual personalities lost under the ubiquitous adjectives of 'fair', 'beautiful' and 'gentle'.

But not in the writing of Marie de France. Her 'lays' recounted the Celtic legends of Bretayne (modern day Brittany), and frequently subverted those traditional Medieval gender roles.

Her women not only have distinct personalities, but take an active part in their own destinies too. In Lai du Lanval, a female character becomes the 'knight in shining armor' rescuing her male 'damsel in distress'. Elsewhere, she poignantly discusses 'hidden' norms, like women trapped in arranged marriages to older men, who find ways to take younger lovers.

We can probably thank Marie de France's influence for the fact that Enid has any personality at all. Erec et Enide might seem, at first glance, to be a horribly anti-female tale, but look more closely and the reverse comes fully into focus.

When seen through the lens of chivalry, there's an underlying message leading to feminine empowerment. A context which would not have been lost on Marie. She might even have directly guided Chrétien de Troyes in how the legend should be told!

Eleanor of Aquitaine (and Marie herself) not withstanding, it was the lot of most Medieval women to be pawns in a male oriented world. They were largely powerless, deemed to be the property of their male relatives.

There was tremendous potential here for abuse. Indeed the legal, religious and cultural norms of the day advocated beating wives (within reason), parading 'scolding' women in the street fitted with iron muzzles and other measures designed to keep females in their place.

Chivalry and the ideals of courtly love were a great counter-charge in the opposite direction. Men might have every right in the land to abuse their women, but if they actually exercised those rights, then they lost honor within the chivalric codes.

Tales of courtly love placed women on a pedestal. The plot-lines were all with the male characters, while their ladies remained pure, immutable and venerated. Those stories stood as examples of how to engage with females, as chivalrous men. Real world women might have struggled to live up to the featureless ideal of their literary counterparts, but at least they could expect to be treated with courtesy, if not respect.

Even today, it is shocking when Erec slips up, mistreating his wife with emotional abuse or leading her into danger. Within the genre of Medieval Romances, such behavior was a breach of etiquette bordering upon cultural heresy.

In fact, Erec et Enide went several steps further than that. Its genius lies in its subversion of the very genre it seemingly embodies, as we shall see.

Part of the reason that Erec's actions become so untenable is because we've no longer got the thought processes behind them. He's been our guide through the story so far, but his subtle silencing gives us no choice but to latch onto the nearest point of empathy - Enide. Yet it's done in such a way as to trick us into thinking that we're still following Erec's story.

Enshrining the male viewpoint, as the desirable norm in story-telling, isn't something peculiar to the Medieval period. The Bechdel Test wouldn't exist in today's world, if movies didn't habitually side-line female characters. Chrétien's gender perspective switch would be radical if he was a Hollywood scriptwriter now, let alone entertaining a 12th century French court.

Life revolves around the heroine of a courtly love tale, but she's not supposed to participate in it. Enide and her ilk should frankly be interchangeable, not only with each other, but with a statue, or a plant-pot, or anything that our heroic knights can focus upon as they compete and fawn. The chivalric heroine could be a rock in a headdress, as long as it's pretty and pure enough.

From the second that she's placed on that horse, a flesh and blood Enide becomes an active part of the story. She gets dirty and bloodied. She falls ill under her emotions (until then a theme common only for male heroes), and the stress of her situations turns her pale. She gains a measure of control over her life, even if it's only to disobey a command to silence.

As the story goes on, we see her intelligence shining through. She evaluates the ideals of the courtly love heroine (keeping silent) against real world considerations (Erec could die), and finds the former wanting. She out-wits potential rapists and abductors. She refuses her consent in a forced marriage.

Yet all of this is disguised under the fact that Enide constantly reaffirms, mostly in thought, her belief in the idealism of female roles within the auspices of chivalry. Her actions belay her sentiments each time. But it's done so cleverly, that audiences would be cheering her on, even as she breaks every code of courtly love.

By the time we've followed Erec and Enide into the great hall of Count Limors, the subversion of the genre is no longer subtle. Limors literally yells into Enide's face all that she should attain to be or possess. He's reciting the staples of the Romance heroines - riches, a good marriage, unthinking consent, obedience, sitting on a dais and looking pretty - but we're all cheering Enide on as she resists them all.

Her victory comes not in compliance, but that almighty rebel yell that she sounds against Limors. Her defiance is loud enough to raise Erec from the dead, mustering the full force of his chivalry in defense of her choices. He trusts and falls in love with her all over again because of that moment.

Once back at King Arthur's court, Enide is again elevated to the status of venerated, pure and ideal heroine of the courtly Romances. But it's framed as something now earned. The praise of the court is all about that scream. In essence, she achieved perfect womanhood by rejecting all that the chivalric codes (and societal norms too) perceived as perfection for her gender.

Ordinarily a strong distinction could have been made between real life females and the idealized heroines of the Romance legends. Just as modern women can't achieve in reality the glamor of air-brushed models in fashion magazines, Medieval ladies were thwarted in matching their ideals.

The real world doesn't lend itself to always being perfectly calm, beautiful and happily obedient, especially when your consent isn't required, even in massive life-changing events, like a marriage.

Enide provided an alternative. When Erec dislodged her from the metaphorical pedestal, he conferred upon his wife a flesh and blood status. Her example could be easily achieved. She had emotions. She got mucky. She panicked. She screamed.

It would have been a witless woman indeed, who didn't see the possibilities inherent there.  A moment of rebellion could be passed off as 'playing at being Enide', and it might even work to exert a woman's will in certain situations. Especially if their men were trying very hard to appear chivalrous, as etiquette dictated.

Silencing and/or denying their lady-love placed them with Erec at his most foolish and dishonorable. Reacting favorably to feminine rebellion aligned them instead with Erec at his most heroic, deserving of the praise of Arthur's chivalric order of knights.

Under the influence of Marie de France, Chrétien de Troyes produced not only an entertaining addition to the Arthurian Matter, but also something which could well have been useful for women in the battle for gender equality.

Hollywood might never make a movie based upon it, but perhaps it should.