Saint Æthelthryth exorcised devil-possessed monk through diarrhea

outhouse in the sky

Do you know someone who seems to be possessed by the devil? Of course you do; those sort of people are everywhere today. You might suggest to one of your devil-possessed family members or friends that she pray for relief to Saint Æthelthryth, a sixth-century Anglo-Saxon saint. According to a chronicle written in England in the 1170s, a devil-possessed monk prayed to Saint Æthelthryth for relief. He subsequently had extreme, foul-smelling diarrhea that purged the devil from his body.

According to the chronicle, the monk had left early from his brother monks’ normal evening prayer service in their monastery. That left the monk vulnerable to the devil’s attack. Being attacked by the devil can also happen to persons who don’t participate in family holidays and family meals. The monk’s situation got very ugly:

When the service was over, the abbot and the community, as they went out to the first entrance to the cloister, saw the demoniac youth. He was raving against everyone, making wild threats, and flailing around with abuse. By kicking with his feet and biting with his teeth, he was trying to hurt some of the men who were constraining him within their arms, .

{ Nec mora finita synaxi, abbas et conventus exeuntes ad primum claustri ingressum, vident juvenem daemoniacum contra omnes tumultuantem, saeva minantem, convitiis insultantem, et inter brachia se constringentium ictibus pedum et morsibus dentium aliquos laedere conantem. }[1]

The community brought the young monk to the tomb of Saint Æthelthryth. There throughout the night they prayed to her for help. By morning the young young monk had returned to his senses. However, “the internal looseness of his stomach was torturing him, and he was in need of evacuation in a privy {ventris resolutio intestina torqueret, et secreto exitu indigeret}”:

After being taken, therefore, to the necessary place, he experienced as great an efflux as if all his bowels were being poured out. After the raving of his mind, such a stink of the stomach was ejected that the air throughout the nearest domestic buildings was scarcely bearable. As the polluted exhalation spread itself through every nook and cranny, scarcely anyone escaped its vapor. And this uncleanliness was no less extreme than the former madness, but rather both attacks turned out equal, one to the other. One was horrible because of his going out of his mind. The other was astonishing, because of the effluvium of his stomach. It was as if the most evil spirit was either totally being changed into excrement or, on being ejected, was taking the latrines themselves with him.

{ Ductus ergo ad locum necessarium, tantam illico passus est effusionem, ac si omnia viscera funderentur: et post ejectum furorem mentis, tantus ejicitur foetor ventris, ut per omnes proximas officinas vix esset aer tolerabilis, corrupto flatu per omnes angulos se spargente, fumum ejus vix aliquo evadente. Nec minor erat illa immunditia, quam ante fuerat illa vesania; sed par sibi factus est uterque impetus, alter in excessu mentis horribilis, alter in fluxu ventris mirabilis: quasi nequissimus ille spiritus aut totus verteretur in stercus, aut ipsas latrinas secum ferret ejectus. }[2]

Evidently a person’s soul can be cleansed through prayer to a saint and extreme diarrhea.[3] If you’re having personal difficulties with a family member or friend, be intellectually courageous and suggest this historically attested cure. The foul smell will be only temporary. Peace and joy spending time together with beloved others is an eternal blessing.

crude wooden toilet

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Notes:

[1] Liber Eliensis Bk. II, Ch. 129, “About a certain brother who had gone out of his mind but was cured by the merits of saint Æthelthryth {De quodam fratre qui mentem excesserat sed meritis sanctae Ætheldrethae sanato},” Latin text from Stewart (1848) pp. 262-3 (there chapter 128), English translation (modified insubstantially) from Fairweather (2005) p. 247. Subsequent quotes above are similarly sourced. The monk’s name was Edwin and the religious service he skipped out on was Compline. Liber Eliensis was compiled at a monastery on the Isle of Ely (England) in the 1170s.

Marie de France translated into Old French the story of Saint Æthelthryth exorcising the monk through diarrhea. Marie de France included it in her Life of Saint Audrey (Æthelthryth) ll. 2953-2994. For that text and a translation, McCash & Barban (2006) pp. 167-9.

[2] Marie de France’s account of this incident adds:

Since this occasion,
there has been no devil so bold
as to dare assail the wall
of the monastery  or come in
lest he, too, be ejected
the same way his companion had been.

{ Puis cele heure ke ge vos di
N’i out diable si hardi
Ki le mur osast assaillier
De cel covent ou enz venir
Ke autresi ne fust geté
Com sis compains ki i out esté. }

Life of Saint Audrey ll. 2989-2994, from Old French text and English translation (modified slightly) from McCash & Barban (2006) pp. 168-9.

[3] Saint Æthelthryth is not the only saint reported to have exorcised a demon through prompting extreme diarrhea. Sulpicius Severus’s fifth-century Life of Saint Martin records:

When the demon was compelled by punishments and tortures to flee out of the possessed body, while he had no power of escaping by the mouth, he was cast out by means of the belly’s defluxion, leaving disgusting traces behind him.

{ cum fugere de obsesso corpore poenis et cruciatibus cogeretur nec tamen exire ei per os liceret, foeda relinquens vestigia fluxu ventris egestus est. }

Ch. 17, Latin text from Francese (c2015), English translation from Roberts (1894). In the first half of the twelfth century, Peter the Venerable, Abbot of Cluny, reported a monk expelling a demon in the latrine. De Miraculis, Bk. 1, Ch. 13 (PL 189, col. 877), cited in Bayless (2012) pp. 2, 183.

Demons and devils were associated with latrines and bowel movements in a variety of ways. In the Life of Saint Gengulph, written in Latin about 900 GC, the clerk who cuckolded Gengulph suffered disembowlment while using the latrine. Other sinful men reportedly defecated out their souls, died in latrines, or lost control of their bowels and continually soiled themselves. Bayless (2012) pp. 130-5.

Bayless, the leading scholar of medieval excrement, makes a highly pungent claim about that subject:

excrement was not merely used as a figure of speech but was central to the popular medieval metaphysics. It was not a symbol of sin or a consequence of sin: it embodied sin {emphasis in original}. It was an alternate manifestation of sin, as ice is an alternate manifestation of water. Excrement was sin made material. In the modern period, filth and excrement are deplorable but otherwise meaningless material realities, most useful as metaphors. In the Middle Ages, filth and excrement were the foundation of the understanding of human history. They were as important as sin because they were sin {emphasis in the original}. This a radical and crucial difference from modern attitudes.

Id. p. xviii. That scholarly claim is less credible than less abstract Christian belief in transubstantiation. Medieval literature such as the Latin fabliau One-Ox (Ziolkowski (2007) Ch. 4 & App. 3), the French epic De Audigier (Brians (1973) pp. 57-69), and the Latin prose work Solomon and Marcolf used excrement in creative ways. Medieval mooning doesn’t bear a totalizing interpretation. The French fabliaux Bérengier au Lonc Cul and La gagure, ou L’esquier e la chaunbrere used ass-kissing to address fundamental political issues not directly related to excrement.

[images] (1) Outhouse for the fire lookout at Goat Peak, Washington State, USA, 28 Aug. 2010. Thanks to Curt Smith and Wikimedia Commons. (2) Outhouse (detail) from 1880 Town (South Dakota, USA), 26 Sept. 2000. Thanks to Patrick Bolduan and Wikimedia Commons.

References:

Bayless, Martha. 2012. Sin and Filth in Medieval Culture: the devil in the latrine. New York: Routledge.

Brians, Paul, trans. 1973. Bawdy Tales from the Courts of Medieval France. New York: Harper & Row.

Fairweather, Janet, trans. 2005. Liber Eliensis: a history of the Isle of Ely from the seventh century to the twelfth. Woodbridge: Boydell.

Francese, Christopher, ed. c2015. Sulpicius Severus. The Life of Saint Martin of Tours. Dickinson College Commentaries. Online.

McCash, June Hall and Judith Clark Barban, ed. and trans. 2006. The Life of Saint Audrey: A Text by Marie de France. Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland.

Roberts, Alexander, trans. 1894. “Sulpitius Severus on the Life of St. Martin.” In A Select Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church, Second Series, Volume 11. New York.

Stewart, David James, ed. 1848. Thomas & Richard of Ely. Liber Eliensis, ad fidem codicum variorum. Londini: Impensis Societatis.

Ziolkowski, Jan M. 2007. Fairy Tales from before Fairy Tales: the medieval Latin past of wonderful lies. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.

Sabine women win Pyrrhic peace for Roman men

Sabine women generated gynocentrism

In ancient warfare, armies sought to kill men and to capture women. With the progress of civilization, armies now seek only to kill men. The vast majority of persons today forcefully abducted from their ordinary lives are men incarcerated within their own societies. Women captives in the ancient world might marry their captors, be intimately integrated into their captors’ lives, gain co-ownership of their captors’ property, and acquire significant new political rights. Men captives in prisons and jails today receive no such benefits. In Western civilization, the harsh anti-men gender inequality in both killing and capturing can be trace back about 2750 years to Roman men abducting Sabine women to be their wives.

At the founding of Rome, after being captured by the Roman men and becoming their wives, the Sabine women received considerable benefits. The Roman leader Romulus promised the Sabine women co-ownership of their husbands’ properties, civil rights, and free-born status for their children.  Romulus pledged that their husbands would be kind and affectionate to them and would do their utmost to console them. The Roman men wooed their Sabine women-captives. To excuse their capturing the Sabine women, the Roman men pleaded their passion and love for them, “the most moving of pleas to a woman’s heart {maxime ad muliebre ingenium efficaces preces sunt}.”[1]

Many men labor strenuously to acquire property and struggle desperately to gain passionate love. The Sabine women gained both through being captured. In a wide variety of cultures and times, women actively promote and encourage their bridal capture by favored men. Nonetheless, in accordance with a fundamental principle of communicative economics, the capture of the Sabine women has to this day been widely called the “rape of the Sabine women.”[2]

In literary history and life, deaths of many men attract much less attention than capture of many fewer women. Roman soldiers captured 30, or 527, or 683 Sabine women (reports vary).[3] In response, an army of Sabine men attacked Rome. With the help of a strong, independent woman who betrayed Rome, the Sabine army seized the Roman citadel.[4] The Sabine army numbered twenty-five thousand men on foot and about a thousand men on horses. The Roman army that fought against the Sabine men numbered about twenty thousand men on foot and about eight hundred on horses.[5] The battle between the Sabine men and the Roman men was brutal and intense. Surely many thousands of men were killed, probably more than when Greek and Trojan men fought at Troy over Helen. Accounts of the “rape of the Sabine women” almost wholly ignore the many Sabine and Roman men killed within that story.[6]

Nearly everyone has failed to appreciation the wisdom of the Sabine women. Like leading women writers of the Middle Ages, the Sabine women loved their husbands and fathers and cared for men generally. The Sabine women, seeking to halt the killing of Sabine and Roman men, declared:

We are the cause of war, the cause of wounds, and even death to both our husbands and our parents. It would be better for us to perish than to live as widows or orphans, lacking either of you.

{ nos causa belli, nos volnerum ac caedium viris ac parentibus sumus; melius peribimus quam sine alteris vestrum viduae aut orbae vivemus. }[7]

The Sabine women’s statement is consistent with insights from pre-Islamic Arabic poetry to events of the twenty-first century. But the Sabine and Roman men, along with subsequent classical scholarship, has ignored the Sabine women’s wisdom. International elites today have even formed a preposterous consensus that “violence against women is the most pressing human rights problem remaining in the world.” The Roman and Sabine men at least understood that the Sabine women wanted them to stop killing each other. Seeking to do what women want, the men stopped killing each other.

Apparently reasoning that they owed their lives to the Sabine women that they had captured, the Roman men established institutions of female privilege. Many men today act like servants opening doors for women and like inferiors cowering in the back of elevators waiting for women to exit first. Roman men following their capture of the Sabine women created such social institutions of female privilege. Among those that the Roman men created:

  1. Sabine women when walking had right of way over Roman men.
  2. Roman men were forbidden to utter “any indecent word” in the presence of Sabine women.
  3. Roman men were forbidden to allow themselves to be seen naked by the Sabine women. Violators of this law, which set the model for current U.S. sexual assault regulations, were liable to prosecution before judges of homicide.[8]

Men upholding such institutions contribute to the prevalence of sexless marriages. They also perpetuate the social subordination of men to women. In terms of economic privilege, Roman men exempted Sabine women from all labor and drudgery except spinning thread. That exemption provided the foundation for an enduring gendered division of earning and spending: husbands labor to earn money that wives spend, or alternatively, men work under familial and legal obligation, while women work for personal fulfillment.

Roman men capturing the Sabine women generated gynocentric society. Juvenal in his Satire 6 would raise a vehement and courageous voice of men’s sexed protest. Roman men became reluctant to marry women. None of these acts could change the founding order of Rome. The foundational problem was men’s sexual deprivation and desperation.[9] That’s what drove the Roman men to capture the Sabine women. Like the misery of sexless and married men, the misery of sexless and unmarried men must be addressed to establish a humane and enduring civilization.

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Notes:

[1] Livy, History of Rome 1.9, Latin text and English trans. Foster (1919) pp. 38-9. The translation of Canon Roberts (1905), readily available online, is similar.

In modern academic scholarship, men wooing women tends to be associated with harm to women:

we must recognize that men {Roman men wooing their Sabine women captives} are compounding their original act of violence by an act of bad faith — they are, in fact, increasing the distance between themselves and their captives even as they seem to be bridging it

Miles (1992) p. 185. In the title to his article, Miles uses the word “theft” to describe the abduction of the Sabine women. That diction highlights prevalent misunderstanding about women, men, and property. See note [2] in my post on violence and gender.

[2] Bridal capture has been a prevalent, socially complex institution:

There is a thin line between an abduction in which the girl, though she was not aware beforehand of plans for her kidnapping, anticipates some sort of action and is willing to be ‘stolen’, and an actual elopement planned by the two young people together. The disguising as an abduction of what is in fact a mutual agreement serves two useful purposes: it obscures any indication of sexual initiative on the girl’s part, which would be regarded with horror by her parents and by the rest of the community, and it preserves the male’s honour and demonstrates convincingly his courage and manliness. … there appear to be no geographical or religious boundaries within which the phenomenon of marriage by abduction occurs — it is found among Christians (Greece), Moslems (Turkey, Bosnia), and others (Tzeltal Indians in Mexico), in endogamous societies (Turkey) and those which place restrictions on the marriages of close kin (Greece, Tzeltal), and throughout the world, from Mexico to India.

Evans-Grubbs (1989) pp. 62-4. Modern criminal justice systems tend to broadly criminalize men seducing women and men eloping with women.

The Latin texts refer to the raptus of the Sabine women. Raptus means seizure; in this context, capture of the Sabine women to be wives. Dionysius of Halicarnassus stated that Romulus ordered the Sabine women to be captured “without violating their chastity.” He explained to the Sabine women the likely truth that bridal capture was an ancient Greek custom commonly favorable to women. For review of such customs, Evans-Grubbs (1989), esp. p. 62. In addition, Dionysius reported:

Romulus united them {Sabine women and Roman men} according to the customs of each woman’s country, basing the marriages on a communion of fire and water, in the same manner as marriages are performed even down to our times.

{ ἐκ τῶν ἀγάμων ἄνδρας ἰσαρίθμους, οἷς αὐτὰς συνήρμοττε κατὰ τοὺς πατρίους ἑκάστης ἐθισμούς, ἐπὶ κοινωνίᾳ πυρὸς καὶ ὕδατος ἐγγυῶν τοὺς γάμους, ὡς καὶ μέχρι τῶν καθ᾽ ἡμᾶς ἐπιτελοῦνται χρόνων. }

Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities 2.30.4-6.

[3] Plutarch, Parallel Lives, Romulus 14.6 discusses the various counts of Sabine women.

[4] The Roman woman Tarpeia secretly admitted the Sabine king Tatius and his troops into the Capitol. This aspect of the story has many variations, including a variation exculpating Tarpeia. Men tend to be reluctant to acknowledge the possibility of women’s betrayal:

The failure of any single version {of Tarpeia’s betrayal of Rome} may attest to the discomfort felt by the Romans — and Greeks — in coping with the topic of betrayal, especially betrayal by a woman.

Brown (1995) p. 304. Such discomfort is evident in the convoluted claim that accounts of Tarpeia’s betrayal indicate that men regard women as inherently suspect and difficult to predict. Miles (1992) p. 184. Such disparagement of men is highly predictable.

[5] Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities 2.37.4-5 provides the soldier counts.

[6] The abduction of the Sabine women also generated wars between the Romans and the Caeninensians and the Romans and the Antemnates. Both those wars also involved killing many men.

By the second half of the fourth century, the abduction of the Sabine women had become a play performed frequently in the Circus Maximus of Rome. The performances were “lewd, vulgar, and well-attended.” Holden (2008) p. 138.

Augustine, City of God 2.18, condemned the abduction of the Sabine women. Augustine’s concern was for the women abducted, not men’s sexual deprivation or men being killed. For discussion of Christian responses in late antiquity to the abduction of the Sabine women, Holden (2008) pp. 131-5.

Holden speculates that fear of violence may have stimulated performances of the abduction of the Sabine women:

The story of the abduction of the Sabine women may have been on peoples’ minds in the later fourth and fifth centuries because of the increased danger to Rome and the city’s women posed by tyrants, heretics, pagans, and, especially, barbarians as the city and the empire declined

Id. p. 139. Danger to Roman men apparently mattered little. Violence against men has always been vastly greater than violence against women. Moreover, violence against men has attracted much less social concern, even in societies formally dedicated to ideals of gender equality.

For modern gynocentric accounts of the abduction of the Sabine women, Miles (1992) and Brown (1995). Both refer to the Sabine women being raped. Both ignore the many Sabine, Roman, and other men killed.

[7] Livy, History of Rome 1.9, Latin text and English trans. Foster (1919) pp. 48-9, translation adapted non-substantially. Flattening Livy with conventional modern misandry, Brown declares:

they {men} are unable to find a peaceful way out of the mess created by their pride and violence. … It is the women who break the cycle of violence, suited to this role by their unwarlike sex and relational social function as wives and mothers.

Brown (1995) p. 314. Medieval literature such as the Tale of Melibee shows much more sophisticated literary understanding of women, men, and violence.

[8] These female privileges are listed in Plutarch, Parallel Lives, Romulus 20.3. The exemption of women from labor is from id. 19.7. Men classical scholars in recent decades have defined themselves in ways that does not allow them to perceive women’s socially constructed superiority to men:

As perceived inferiors, the Sabine women can never exercise enough influence to outweigh the public concerns by which men in this world define themselves.

Miles (1992) p. 189.

[9] With his characteristically sophisticated irony, Ovid heightened the Roman men’s brutality in abducting the Sabine women. He concluded his account of the abduction with an outrageous claim:

Old Romulus the prize for soldiers knew,
For such a prize I’d be a soldier too!
Thus was the fashion started, and the fair
Still find the play a peril and a snare.

{ Romule, militibus scisti dare commoda solus.
Haec mihi si dederis commoda, miles ero.
Scilicet ex illo sollemnia more theatra
Nunc quoque formosis insidiosa manent. }

Ovid, Art of Love {Ars amatoria} 1.131-4, from Latin trans. Melville (2008) p. 90. Ovid mocked the Roman elegiac soldier of love. He taught men how to seduce verbally attractive women at theaters like that from which the Sabine women were abducted. Moreover, Ovid respected women’s strong, independent sexuality. He recognized that seeking men was a continuing reason that women went to the theater:

So to the play the well-dressed bevies throng,
Such wealth of choice as keeps one doubting long.
They come to look and to be looked at too.
Ah! Virtue, it’s a fatal spot for you.

{ Sic ruit ad celebres cultissima femina ludos:
Copia iudicium saepe morata meum est.
Spectatum veniunt, veniunt spectentur ut ipsae:
Ille locus casti damna pudoris habet. }

Ovid, Art of Love {Ars amatoria} 1.97-100, trans. id. p. 89. Long regarded as an eminent teacher of love, Ovid continues to offer useful instruction to men on how to avoid sexual deprivation and desperation.

[image] The gynocentric foundation of Rome.  The Intervention of the Sabine Women. Jacques-Louis David. Oil on canvas painting, 1799. Held in the Louvre Museum. Thanks to the Web Gallery of Art and Wikimedia Commons.

References:

Brown, Robert. 1995. “Livy’s Sabine Women and the Ideal of Concordia.” Transactions of the American Philological Association. 125: 291-319.

Evans-Grubbs, Judith. 1989. “Abduction Marriage in Antiquity: A Law of Constantine (CTh IX 24.1) and its Social Context.” Journal of Roman Studies. 79: 59-83.

Foster, B. O., trans. 1919. Livy. History of Rome. Vol. 1 (Books I-II).  Loeb Classical Library 114. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Holden, Antonia. 2008. “The Abduction of the Sabine Women in Context: The Iconography on Late Antique Contorniate Medallions.” American Journal of Archaeology. 112 (1): 121-142.

Melville, A.D., trans. 2008. Ovid. The love poems. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Miles, Gary B. 1992. “The First Roman Marriage and the Theft of the Sabine Women.” Ch. 6 (pp. 161-201) in Ralph Hexter and Daniel Selden, eds., Innovations in Antiquity. Routledge: London.

Chrétien’s Lancelot: cretinous manlet is ideal of courtly lover

Lancelot, cretinous courtly lover of Guinevere

Before the story of the lady-server Ulrich von Liechtenstein, medieval literature knew of the manlet Lancelot. The original ideal of the chivalric knight was a husband whose preeminent duty was to service his wife sexually. Subtly re-figuring the prowess and effectiveness of a man’s natural lance, the brilliant medieval French poet Chrétien de Troyes about the year 1180 wrote the romance Lancelot, the Knight of the Cart. Chrétien’s Lancelot, which presents the lady-courting knight Lancelot in a position of criminal abjection, is similar to the prophetic Book of Jonah in the bible. Lancelot became the ideal of the courtly lover. This new ideal courtly lover is a sex-deprived man who uses unnatural lances and swords to fight other men in accordance with women’s whims and orders.

Lancelot suffered from what modern love scholarship calls one-itis for Queen Guinevere. A young single woman, strong and independent, admirably invited Lancelot to sleep with her. He accepted that invitation, and then refused to touch her in bed. Instead he preferred masochistic devotion to Queen Guinevere. The queen was cuckolding her husband King Arthur. Lancelot loved the pain of loving Guinevere. Given her infidelity, he probably would have loved even more being married to her:

Love kept scratching open
The wounds he’d suffered for Love.
He’d never bothered to bandage them
Over, or tried to heal them:
From the moment he’d felt the blow
And known he was hurt, he’d never
Longed for relief or sought
To be cured but, grateful, hungered
For his pain. [1]

Soldiering for love is a masochist’s mission. Men must understood deep within their bones that they are entitled to love.

Developing men’s sense of entitlement to love requires rejecting one-itis, appreciating the vast multitude of women in the world, and learning seductive arts from Ovid and subsequent learned teachers of love. Journeying through the woods in search of Guinevere, Lancelot spotted a comb on a stone. He marveled at the comb. But he acted only when the lusty girl he hadn’t touched said to him: “Fetch it for me.” Lancelot, subordinate even in a sexless relation to a girl, responded “Gladly.” Then, like a loyal retriever dog, he fetched the comb for the girl. Men with a full sense of entitlement to love are capable of acting without satisfying females’ orders.

Fully developed men don’t obsess about a particular woman. Lancelot stared at the strands of hair in the comb. The girl began to laugh. A guileless chump, Lancelot asked the girl why she was laughing. She said she didn’t feel like telling him why she was laughing. He then begged her to tell. She finally relented and explained that the comb belonged to Queen Guinevere. Lancelot nearly fell off his horse. His weakness frightened the girl:

The girl slipped
From her horse and ran to his side
As fast as she could, to hold
Him up and keep him from falling

With respect to women, Lancelot obviously was a poor rider.

To avoid embarrassing Lancelot, the girl explained that she had come to him to ask for the comb. Lancelot was the sort of man who would do anything for a woman, other than have sex with her. So when the girl asked for the comb, he gave her the comb. But first he removed from the comb Queen Guinevere’s hair:

He gently removed the queen’s
Hair, not breaking a single
Strand. Once a man
Has fallen in love with a woman
No one in all the world
Can lavish such wild adoration
Even on the objects she owns,
Touching them a hundred thousand
Times, caressing with his eyes,
His lips, his forehead, his face,
And all of it brings him happiness,
Fills him with the richest delight;
He presses it into his breast,
Slips it between his shirt
And his heart — worth more than a wagon-
Load of emeralds or diamonds,
Holy relics that free him
Of disease and infection: no powdered
Pearls and ground-up horn
And snail shells for him!

If I told you the truth — if they offered him
Everything displayed at the Fair
of Saint-Denis he wouldn’t
Have exchanged the hairs he’d found
For the whole bursting lot of it.

In short, Lancelot treated those hairs the way a young boy might treat a porn magazine he found in the woods in the antediluvian age before Internet porn.

After beheading a man at a girl’s request, Lancelot fought to rescue Queen Guinevere. A large crowd gathered to enjoy watching the violence against men. Guinevere herself begged to be allowed to watch the fight. She wasn’t denied the privilege that other women had. The fight between Lancelot and Méléagant proceeded with brutality toward men that is terribly conventional:

And then the combatants, freed
For their fight, ordered the crowd
To withdraw, set their shields
In place, their arms through the straps,
And, aiming their spears, dashed
At each other, striking so fiercely
That the points went two arms deep,
And the shields split and shattered
To bits. Their horses, too,
Came smashing breastplate into
Breastplate, with incredible force,
And the crashing shock of shields
And helmets, horses and men,
Sounded for all the world
Like a towering clap of thunder
And every strap and belt
And spur and rein and girth
Broke, and even the heavy
Saddles snapped at the bow,
And neither knight was shamed
Or surprised to be tossed to the ground,
As everything underneath him
Gave way. They leaped to their feet
And continued the combat like a pair
Of wild boars, not bothering with insults
Or boasts, but striking each other
With heavy blows of their steel
Swords, like men who violently
Hate one another. Their slashing
Strokes often cut
Through helmets and mail shirts, making
Blood spurt from the metal.

Lancelot seemed to be weakening. Méléagant seemed likely to kill him. Then a girl called out:

Lancelot!
Turn your head up and look —
See who’s here, watching!

Despite being in brutal, man-to-man combat, Lancelot turned his head, looked up, and saw Guinevere. Keeping his eyes on her, Lancelot then foolishly fought without looking at his foe. Méléagant closed in for the kill. But a girl called out:

Ah, Lancelot! Can you really
Be as stupid as you look?

We see you fighting backwards,
Looking away from your enemy!
Do your fighting with yourself
Turned to this tower, so you’ll see her
Better! Let her shine on you! [2]

Lancelot understood the girl’s tactical suggestion. He dove behind Méléagant and turned him around. Then fighting with his body facing Méléagant and his eyes on Guinevere, Lancelot greatly strengthened. He began to batter Méléagant. That’s the socially constructed Popeye fantasy of girl-inspired preternatural strength for men’s violence against men. It helps to explain why men die from violence at a rate four times higher than that for women.

Only Guinevere’s words prevented Lancelot from killing Méléagant. Realizing that his son was about to be killed, Méléagant’s father begged Guinevere to stop the battle. Méléagant’s father was king. Guinevere was a captive woman. In gynocentric society, even a captive woman has more authority than a king. Conventionally obscuring women’s rule, Guinevere said:

Dear sir, if you want the battle
Stopped, I want that, too.

As soon as he heard his ruler’s words, Lancelot stopped fighting. Méléagant, a rebel against gynocentrism, ignored Guinevere and struck Lancelot a heavy blow. Because Guinevere gave him no further orders, Lancelot did nothing. But the king ran out and berated his son for violating the gynocentric order that Lancelot upheld. When his son refused to accede to that order, the king had his men drag his son from the field.[3] Lancelot thus won freedom for Guinevere. The injuries to Lancelot in serving Guinevere, like injuries to men generally, were of little concern.

The benighted Lancelot received the reward common to men who abjectly serve women. The king and Lancelot went to see the newly freed Guinevere. She greeted the king and ignored Lancelot. The king, astonished, reminded Guinevere that Lancelot had fought for her sake, risking his life to rescue her. Guinevere responded:

My lord, truly, he’s wasted
His time. I can’t help it:
I take no pleasure in his sight.

Lancelot responded only “as a true {courtly} lover should”:

You leave me sorrowful, lady,
But I dare not ask you why.

Guinevere then silently walked away. Lancelot, his body bleeding from the brutal hardships and risks he suffered to rescue Guinevere, wanted to know why she wouldn’t talk to him. But he didn’t dare ask her. For a fully developed man, such a question isn’t even worth asking. Lancelot lacked appreciation for the value of his natural lance. Woman loath men who value themselves at nothing among women. Women loath manlets.

Guinevere later explained her vicious treatment of Lancelot. She explained that he had hesitated briefly before getting into a cart to be brought closer to her. Carts were used to shame criminals. By riding in the cart, the knight Lancelot accepted the shameful position of a criminal. Many men in colleges and universities today have similarly accepted the shameful position of being depicted as rapists merely for being men. In a paradigmatic groveling response to Guinevere’s rationalization for her appalling behavior, Lancelot declared:

In the name of God, Lady,
Tell me what I must do
To earn your forgiveness, and whatever
It is I will do at once.
I beg you: pardon my fault.

Men who ask women’s pardon for absurdly constructed offenses are manlets.

In late-nineteenth-century medieval scholarship, the relationship of Guinevere and Lancelot stimulated scholarly study and glorification of courtly love (amour courtois). Chrétien de Troyes shouldn’t be blamed for that horrific scholarly development any more than the author of the Book of Jonah should be credited with establishing Jonah as a revered prophet.[4] The original understanding of chivalry urged men to prioritize having sex with their wives over committing violence against men. Through the invisible interpretive hand of gynocentrism, medieval stories of knights, ladies, and love generated the opposite priorities. Men and women of good will must self-consciously recollect and retell stories valuing men’s sexuality and devaluing violence against men.

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Notes:

[1] Chrétien de Troyes, Lancelot, the Knight of the Cart (Lancelot, le Chevalier de la Charrette) ll. 1341-8, from Old French trans. Raffel (1997) p. 43. Lines numbers cited here are from id., which corresponds closely to the Old French text. Subsequent quotes are from id. ll. 1393-4 (Fetch…), 1443-6 (The girl slipped…), 1463-82, 1487-91 (He gently removed…), 3589-620 (And then the combatants…), 3671-3 (Lancelot!…), 3698-9, 3706-10 (Ah, Lancelot!…), 3815-6 (Dear Sir…), 3964-6 (My lord, truly…), 3970-1 (You leave me…), 4501-5 (In the name of God…).

Lancelot in the English translation of Comfort (1914) is available online. The Old French text of Lancelot is readily available online in the Figura TG (Episodes section) presentation of the Princeton Charrette Project. Here’s useful background information on the text and episode summaries.

[2] In the Byzantine epic Digenis Akritis, Digenis is similarly inspired to fight by the sight of his beloved. During Digenis’s intense fight with Kinnamos and Ioannakis:

the girl {Digenis’s wife} came up — though she kept her distance —
and deliberately stood in front, to be seen by me.
And when she saw the two of them circling me like dogs,
she darted a supportive word to me, saying
‘Be brave, my dearest.’ And at her word immediately
I regained strength…

Digenis Akritis (Grottaferrata ms) 6.244-9, from medieval vernacular Greek trans. Jeffreys (1998) p. 167.

[3] Lancelot’s hands and feet were severely cut and bleeding from recklessly crawling over the Sword Bridge to get to Guinevere. Nonetheless, Lancelot sought immediately to fight the knight Méléagant for Guinevere. In subsequent combat, Lancelot beheaded Méléagant. Earlier, Lancelot had killed many men of Gorre in a battle with the men of Logres. In medieval Europe, men suffered from an even larger gender inequality in lifespans than men do today.

[4] Philology is key to understanding Chrétien de Troyes’s intention with Lancelot:

Lance meant the same thing in Old French that it does in Modern French. The suffix – lot appears to be either a combination of the Latin diminutive -ellum and the OF diminutive -et (-ete), or simply the OF suffix -et preceded by a parasitic l to facilitate the junction after an open syllable. In any case it is a diminutive suffix more or less intense. What is surprising however is that a lance normally does not take a diminutive suffix because it is precisely its size, or length, which makes a weapon a lance. … Finally, in view of the missing-horse symbolism which was discussed above as well as the ubiquitous motif of an ineffectual Lancelot, it is far from gratuitous to point out that a lance is not an uncommon sexual symbol. What is thus implied by the diminutive is obvious.

Condren (1970) pp. 452-3. On the Book of Jonah, see, e.g. Whedbee (1998) pp. 191-220.

[image] Lancelot and Guinevere. Oil painting by Herbert James Draper. English. 1890s. Thanks to Wikimedia Commons.

References:

Condren, Edward I. 1970. “The Paradox of Chrétien’s Lancelot.” MLN. 85 (4): 434-453.

Jeffreys, Elizabeth, ed. and trans. 1998. Digenis Akritis: the Grottaferrata and Escorial versions. Cambridge, United Kingdom: Cambridge University Press.

Raffel, Burton, trans. 1997. Chrétien de Troyes. Lancelot, the knight of the cart. New Haven: Yale University Press.

Whedbee, J. William. 1998. The Bible and the comic vision. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.