Contrasts in "The Siege of Jerusalem"

After reading the second half of The Siege of Jerusalem, I noticed some rather large contrasts within the reading from this section to the first. The first contrast is the depictions of the Romans vs the Jews. It was posed as a question in a post last week, and I think it's an important aspect of the poem to point out. While the Jews are continuously dehumanized and portrayed as weak sub-human creatures through the violence in the poem, the Romans are repeatedly portrayed as valiant, strong, and "lion" like men. For example, "Than with a liouns lote he lifte up his eyen, to Titus tourneth anon, and hym the tale schewed. And as Sire Sabyn hadde seid, he hym sone granteth, with his brother and the burnes, as he hym blesse wolde" (1001-1004). A similar quote with a Roman exemplifying incredible strength both mentally and physically, "Sire Sabyn of Surrye, whyle the saute laste, Leyth a ladder to the wal and alofte clymyth, wendeth wyghtly theron -though hym wo happned- and up stondith for ston or for steel-ware" (1197-1200). While the Jews are portrayed as weak heathens throwing rocks and stones, the Romans are described with strength and incredible resistance to these "terrible" creatures.

Another contrast that I saw between the beginning and the end was in the resolution of the tale. While it's not completely at the end, the explanations for all the deaths, omens, and negative things that have happened to them, "And than the vilayns devysed hem and venguance hit helde, and wyten her wo the wronge that they wroghte whan they brutned in the burwe the byschup Seint Jame; noght wolde acounte hit for Crist, the care that they hadde" (1237-1240). I thought that this was a rather abrupt resolution for all of the "woe" that the people had experienced in this war. After all of the incredibly detailed scenes of violence and grotesque deaths, the poem quite suddenly just brings it back upon the people saying that it was their sins that created this violence. In the first section of the poem we saw violent images of Christ's deaths and then similar violent descriptions in the war scenes, thus creating a sort of parallel between the two, but then in this line the author suddenly states that their suffering is nothing compared to Christ's. We get these valiant images of the Romans, but then this bold contrast to even their suffering to that of Christ's. It seems as if there is almost a totem pole of "goodness" that is created in the poem--the Jews are on the bottom with what would appear to be the Romans on top (the valiant lions). But then, we are thrown this passage, we see that the Romans and their suffering and courage is actually nothing to that of Christ. The question that I would pose, then, is what do you think the literary purpose is for all of the violent imagery and then this sudden resolution basically stating that their suffering wasn't that bad? Were the grotesque and disturbing images in the war supposed to be meant as an example that no suffering is as great as Christ's? Or is this merely a coincidence that I am way over-reading into.....?

Prophecies Part Two

We the reader read Titus and Vespasian, in accordance with Jesus' prophecies, talk about destroying the Temple to the extent that "no stone stands upon another." At the poem's conclusion, we can see that all of Christ's prophecies are being fulfilled: the destruction of Jerusalem, the Temple, and those who condemned Jesus to death. Christ is a great framing character in this tale. The Siege begins with his Passion and suffering, and ends with his various prophecies being fulfilled. The details of these events even correlate with one another: The Roman destruction of Jerusalem ("In plowes to putte and alle the place eyre"-1294) can be seen as a tie-in back to the Jews placing the scourge post into the ground ("A pyler plyght was doun upon the playn erthe"-line 9). In fact, the last lines of the poem also, in a way, allude to another Christ-centered event: the Second Coming.

The poet ends by discussing those who are saved will "han here wille forthred,/And hom riden to Rome. (1339-1340) It can be inferred that the "home" means two things: the actual, physical city of Rome as well as the spiritual dwelling that Rome now represents. Christ is a central figure in the Siege, despite the fact that he is killed in the very beginning. His significance is the driving, motivating force beyond the story's most intriguing moments.

Prophecies, Violence, and Christ (Pt. 1)

The Jewish people are portrayed in a very unique light all throughout The Siege of Jerusalem. We have seen via our first discussion of the tale the ways in which they were dehumanized via the Roman conquest and the various instances of violence which were perpetrated against them throughout the first half of the tale itself. However, one of the issues that I have encountered as I read the Siege is determining its genre. The destruction of The Second Temple would seemingly tie the poem as history, yet the dramatic display of the conversion narratives seem to tie it closer to hagiography. However, the long, detailed descriptions of the various violent battle scenes seem to tie it closer to the other various romantic epics we have encountered throughout the semester. We can conclude that the Siege definitely has attributes of all three of these genres, without totally immersing itself in any one of these genres.

The ideals of vengeance and violence tie in greatly with the overall narrative. It is extremely obvious that the poem represents the vengeance of Titus and Vespasian for the death of Christ. The Siege of Jerusalem depicts the apex of Christ's prophecies in Luke's Gospel: Jerusalem (and consequently the Jewish people) did NOT recognize the visitation of Christ and were soon condemned for it. This fulfillment of revenge is best seen via the framing of Caiaphas's execution set against the siege of the city itself.  Now the only thing that remains is clear: the destruction of the Temple itself.

This destruction can also be viewed as a fulfillment of Christ's prophecy. Titus, taking the command over from his father, swears to do just this. Vespasian's response is very interesting to note:

My wele and my worschup ye weldeth to kepe,

For the tresour of my treuth upon this toun hengyth: "I nold this toun were untake, ne this toures heye, For alle the glowande golde upon grounde riche, Ne no ston in the stede stondande alofte, Bot alle overtourned and tilt, Temple and other." (1015-20)

Political relations in the Siege of Jerusalem.

I'd imagine most of us are familiar with the historiographical notion of the "great man" theory of history, which suggests that history is propelled by individuals of incredible skill, intellect, or force, rather than social movements or environmental factors. Obviously, there are problems with this theory, and it is largely discredited today, but I wonder if a kernel of it doesn't exist in The Siege of Jerusalem. The very beginning of the poem chooses a curiously specific subject and register: the political units of the Roman Empire. We read:

In Tyberyus tyme, the trewe emperour,
Sir Sesar hymsulf, seysed in Rome,
Whyle Pylat was provost undere that prince riche
And Jewen justice also in Judeus londis (1-4)

The subject of the poem is, more or less, the siege of Jerusalem - the story of a battle between two armed ideological forces, with implications that lay the groundwork for the legitimacy of the Christian Church against the Temple of Judaism. But rather than beginning with a theological annunciation, or even a thematic one, the Siege-poet decides to devote his opening lines to a description of the hierarchical government of Rome, and how it relates to Judaea, using specialized vocabulary (Caesar, provost, justice) to describe the offices. Rather than talking about Christians and Jews, we end up talking about emperors and governors. We then immediately segue into a description of Christ's tortures, and how "throw Pylat pyned He was and put on the Rode" (8) - a clarification and apology which makes explicit that, although the emperor was blamed by some for Christ's death, it was Pontius Pilate the governor who was truly responsible. Again, this seems to be an odd decision, if we take the poem to be one about the eponymous battle which it chronicles. We might expect a discussion of Christ's Passion, but we would expect it to address the culpability of the Jews, a crucial thematic element in the discourse of the tale. Instead, we hear nothing about the Jews, focusing entirely on the Roman officials and soldiers who had a hand in Christ's death. The poet willfully avoids the Christian-Jewish conflict to indict the Roman bureaucracy which killed Christ. But furthermore, the development of the opening quatrains also supports Mueller's suggestion that Agamben criticism might be worthwhile - the lines seem to draw our attention to the superstructures of power and how political units share responsibility for and control over violence. I'm also curious as to whether this might intersect with Livingston's introduction, in which he suggests that the Jews are portrayed as a sympathetic people who are led into destruction by their leaders, the priests and scribes. Is there are a political or class-related struggle pushing itself over the religious conflict in The Siege?

A Just War? Maybe Not

While reading the first part of the Siege of Jerusalem, I was struck by the motivations underlying the war itself. As Michael Livingston points out in his introduction, what made a war “just” was a prevailing question in late medieval society. During my reading, I found myself questioning Livingston’s suggestion that for the Seige poet, Titus and Vespasian’s siege was the one just war, with subsequent military activity inherently unjust (29). Livingston writes that other wars “are not actions of God, but of man, executed for what often amounted to very mortal, rapacious ends” (30). Yet the account the poet gives us suggests that even this war to avenge Christ is not entirely just.

If we consider the motivations for the war, we see immediately that regardless of Titus’ and Vespasian’s beliefs, an economic factor – the Jews’ refusal to pay tribute – is the primary inspiration for the war. Nero summons his knights to council “for his tribute was withholde” (l. 266). While the council elects to send the new Christian converts to lead efforts against the Jews, other knights might just as easily have been chosen. The Emperor’s primary concern is his money – a “mortal, rapacious end” if ever there was one. While the refusal to pay tribute has political implications that threaten the Empire, it is difficult to believe that Nero is even thinking on this level about the greater good. Nero himself is certainly no Christian. When he sends Titus and Vespasian off with numerous ships, armaments, and soldiers, he is not considering vengeance for Christ’s suffering. As we will discover in the second half, the depraved Nero eventually commits suicide when the citizens of Rome turn on him after he commits numerous atrocities against his own people, including Christians (l. 919-20). Are we really to believe that any war started by such a man can be “just”?

Clearly the poet wants us to understand the necessity of avenging Christ’s death and to view Titus and Vespasian’s military actions as just. He tells us that “the deth of the dereworth Crist dere schal be yolden” and that “ne Jewe for Jhesu sake, jouke in you more” when the Romans arrive in Judaea (l. 300, 304). Nevertheless, I think it is a stretch to suggest that the poet views this as a just war in comparison to other “religiously motivated” wars. Without the Jews’ refusal to pay tribute, the war would not have occurred. Regardless of any Christian desire to avenge Christ, earthly concerns ultimately create the opportunity for such action to occur. Furthermore, there is no divine inspiration for the war, nor is there any direct indication that God is somehow demanding or compelling war to take place. The second half may complicate this picture, but at this point, I find it hard to believe that this is the epitome of the just war. Perhaps instead, we might consider this war as the one that comes as close as possible to being “just,” but that ultimately, just war really is not possible. Did anyone else have any other reactions to the depiction of war as we’ve seen it thus far?

The Dehumanization of the Jews

In the first half of the Siege of Jerusalem edited by Michael Livingston, the text succeeds in dehumanizing the Jews with its brutal, detailed descriptions of the violence directed at the Jews by the Romans.

Particularly, the stanza, “Tytus tourneth hym to,  tolles of the beste,/ For-justes the jolieste  with joynyng of were./ Suth with a bright bronde  he betith on harde/ Tille the brayn and the blod  on the bent ornen” (541-544), demonstrates the way in which Tytus turns the living Jew into a mess of “brayn and…blod” with a few thrusts of his sword. Moreover, this phrase is paralleled by the description of the violence enacted by the Romans against the Jews’ elephants: “Atles on the olyfauntes  that orible were,/ Girdith out the guttes  with grounden speres:/ Rappis rispen forth  that rydders an hundred/ Scholde be busy to burie  that on a bent lafte” (569-572). Like the Jew that Tytus slays in lines 541-544, the elephant is stabbed until it becomes a mass of entrails and inner body parts. Because it aligns the Jews with the elephants in this way, the text suggests that the Jews are like animals, and thus subhuman.

Furthermore, the text often presents the Jews not individually but as a depersonalized mass. For example, the stanza, “The fals Jewes in the Felde  fallen so thicke/ As hail forward Heven,  hepe over other;/ So was the bent over-brad, blody by-runne,/ With ded bodies aboute  alle the brod vale” (601-604), talks about the mass of Jewish bodies as if they are part of the valley and thus not human. Also, the description of the dead bodies in the ditches, “Suth dommyn the diches  with the ded corses,/ Crammen hit myd karayn  the kirnels alle under” (685-686), describes the bodies as choking the ditches. As a result, the ditches become more human than the bodies themselves, their throats choked with the dead flesh.

Additionally, the text demonstrates the way in which the Romans render the Jews physically unlike humans. For instance, the lines, “Domesmen upon deyes  demeden swythe/ That ech freke were quyk-fleyn,  the felles of clene:/ Firste to be on a bent  with blonkes to-drawe,/ And suth honget on an hep  upon heye galwes” (697-700), describe the way in which the Romans are ordered to drag the Jews through a field, flay the flesh off of their bodies, and hang the bodies upon high gallows. Furthermore, the “rawe flesche” of some of the bodies is torn to “rede peces” and thus the corpses are robbed of their physical human appearance (706).  Finally, the king orders the bones of the Jews to be burned “into browne askes,” which completely destroys the core of the Jews’ physical humanness, their bones.

The gruesome descriptions of the violence perpetrated against the Jews are not only for show and drama; they communicate the dehumanization of the Jews, describing the Jews not as individual people but as animals, masses of bodies, and shredded corpses. My question is: in relief of these descriptions, how do the Romans appear? Are they more “human” than the Jews against whom they fight? Are they given more personality?

Blurred lines

This tale focuses on the adventures of Constance, making it the first chivalric romance we’ve read where the female character isn’t a transitional figure. Up until this point, the most significant roles that female characters played were to serve as tools for pushing the plot forward, rather than be the focus of the plot itself. As the Man of Law’s Tale progresses, Constance’s story takes on characteristics of several genres which ultimately emphasizes her internal stability despite the unpredictability of the world around her. 

Chaucer writes, “But I lete al his storie passen by;/ Of Cunstance is my tale specially,” (ll. 1124-1125). Constance’s name reflects her most prominent attribute and she stays devoted to God despite the crazy situations that dominate the story. Her faith in God is a display of chivalry, and her demure nature also falls in line with the medieval ideals of femininity. She has all the virtues that would justify her role as the protagonist, but the fact remains that this story is about a woman, and it seems that speaker employs tricks from different genres to sell his tale. 

Aside from a romance, this tale could also read like a hagiographic story, a comedy, or a court case. The way that Chaucer describes Constance’s experience drifting out at sea before she reaches Rome reads like many of the stories from the Golden Legend. He writes, “But blisful Marie heelp hire right anon;/ For with hir struglyng wel and myghtily/ The theef fil over bord al sodeynly,/ And in the see he dreynte for vengeance; and thus hath Crist unwemmed kept Cunstance,” (ll. 920-924). This moment shows how God directly influences events to protect the protagonist, and in this case, Constance earns that protection it because she retains a pure spirit as she drifts between circumstances that are out of her control. She is rewarded for her faith and positive example of religious chivalry. The tale could also read like a comedy based on its plot structure. This offers a way to frame her odyssey as a journey that explores the dichotomies of her historical period. As for reading this as a testimonial, the man of law says, “Ne phislyas, ne termes queinte of lawe./ Ther is but Latyn in my mawe!” (ll. 1189-1190). The structures that the speaker uses consistently throughout the Tale reflect intimate knowledge of rhetoric and have similar constructions as some of Cicero’s speeches. This also gives it a sense of historical continuity and also provides undertones that hint that the speaker is defending Constance while he tells her story. Although the world is against her for most of the Tale, there are significant forces out to protect her.

As a woman who’s largely alone and up against some significant odds, especially as a female protagonist, Constance remains the carefully protected center of attention throughout the Man of Law’s Tale. She defies a lot of boundaries, and that gets reflected into the ambiguity of the narrative structure. Violence is a major threat to her purity and survival, and subtle lines like, “King Alla, which that hadde his mooder slayn,” (ll. 987) remind the reader that Constance’s world is actually extremely volatile.

Jealousy, Faith, and Fairy Tales

In discussing a very simple theme, I noticed that this tale reads an awful lot like a fairy tale, albeit a religious one. A "damsel in distress" (Constance), evil "witches" (Sultan's mother, Donegild), and a savior (God and Christ). While this is a very loose way to look at this tale, it makes it quite predictable. In all fairy tales there has to be a happy ending, and the hero or heroine normally prevails against all odds. In this tale, this is because of the help that Constance receives from God:

"Men myghten asken why she was nat slayn/Eek at the feeste? Who myghte hir body save?/And I answere to that demande agayn,/Who saved Danyel in the horrible cave/Ther every wight save he, maister and knave,/Was with the leon frete er he asterte?/No wight but God that he bar in his herte." (470-476)
This continuous comparison of Constance to Biblical heroes helps this argument as well. All of them were only able to survive due to God's intervention.
Another theme that seems to be common is that of the mothers in this story, the Sultaness and Donegild, both pagan women, who seek to destroy Constance when they take their sons away from their original pagan faith. One question I have about this theme of mothers intervening to keep Constance out of their sons' lives is, why? Are they simply being protective? Are they afraid of their sons losing their faith? We can see the utter hatred and animosity towards Constance here from Donegild:
"But who was woful, if I shal nat lye,/Of this weddyng but Donegild, and namo,/The kynges mooder, ful of tirannye?/Hir thoughte hir cursed herte brast atwo./She wolde noght hir sone had do so;/Hir thoughte a despit that he sholde take/So strange a creature unto his make." (694-700)
From this we might gather the reason for Donegild's actions as simply fear of someone strange taking her son and changing him. I don't know enough about the medieval mother-son dynamic to answer this with any kind of authority. It seems that throughout this tale, even though the Sultan and the king are at the top of the political food chain, they live in a predominantly matriarchal world. This might, in fact, be characteristic of the pagan faith they subscribe to, since the Christian world that Constance originates from is clearly dominated by men.

Maternal Transgression in the Man of Law's Tale

The functions, in the Man of Law’s Tale, of femininity in general and maternity in particular are interesting to note and illuminate a potential structural contrast between the generally submissive Custance and the more assertive older women, the Sultaness and Donegild. These two figures of maternity, who disrupt the designs of both their sons and the male deity who directs Custance, are characterized in strikingly parallel and exceedingly negative fashion:

O Sowdanesse, roote of iniquitee!

Virago, thou Semyrame the secounde!

O serpent under femynynytee,

Lik to the serpent depe in helle ybounde!

O feyned womman, al that may confounde

Vertu and innocence, thurgh thy malice,

Is bred in thee, as nest of every vice. (ll. 358-364)

O Donegild, I ne have noon Englissh digne

Unto thy malice and thy tirannye!

And therefore to the feend I thee resigne;

Lat hym enditen of thy traitorie!

Fy mannysh, fy! – o nay, by God, I lye –

Fy, feendlych spirit, for I dar wel telle,

Thogh thou heere walke, thy spirit is in helle! (ll. 778-784)

The language of demonology and “fiendishness” is strong in both of these characterizations. Overbearing women are likened to the serpent, i.e. the cause of Eve’s original transgression, and are depicted as being the cause of widespread vice and malice. Their greatest sin, however, is the usurpation of the power of the (male) deity and of the masculine autonomy of their sons. The Sultaness in particular is characterized as a “Virago” (l. 359), the significance of which is elaborated in the note to line 359: “Virago is probably to be understood as… ‘a woman exersand a mannis office’” (p. 860). Donegild is similarly called “mannysh,” the implication being that she has transgressed the duties and boundaries generally assigned to women.

            Women, it is suggested both in these passages and throughout the tale, are not to resist either the predilections of human men – especially their sons, to whom they presumably have some societal obligation –  nor the providential workings of the Christian god, who has clearly drawn both the Sultan and Alla towards the rightful faith. They resist, too, the standard patriarchal structure in which women are bound to men; neither of these women, it should be noted, have a living husband, and this seems to be part of the unfortunate situation from which their despicable independence springs.

            I wonder if others see this subjection of the feminine as meeting resistance or as finding reinforcement in the characterization of Custance herself. I read Custance’s general submission to both the Sultan and Alla and, furthermore, her submissive and prayerful relationship to God as indicative of the tale’s other women being Custance’s foil. There’s almost certainly something to be said for an alternative reading, though. What do others think?

God's Justice as told by the Man of Law

What I find intriguing about the Man of Law’s tale is that it reads less like a tale and more like a saint’s life, similar to those from the Golden Legend. However, unlike last week’s selections, Constance is not martyred. Nevertheless she suffers great trials, all of which she bears patiently, while those who strove against her are struck by God and his justice. This made me think: why is this tale being told by the lawyer? Why would he choose to tell a tale of faith? I believe it is because of the justice that prevails throughout this tale. It is not human law upon which the storyteller focuses, but on the law of God. His chosen people, i.e. Constance, are protected because of their faith and devotion. When Constance sails to Syria to marry this Sultan she has never met, she bears it patiently though she laments “Allas, unto the Barbre nacioun/I moste anon, syn that it is youre wille; But Crist, that starf for our redempcioun/So yeve me grace his heestes to fulfille!” (lines 281-284) She submits herself not only to the will of her father (and later does the same on the ‘orders’ of her husband), but also to the will of her Father in Heaven. Such humility and devotion is rewarded, for she survives the attack on the Sultan and the other Christians by the Sultanness and her counselors. But on a rudderless ship, saved by the hand of God like Daniel in the lion’s den, she makes her way to pagan Northumberland.

I want now to skip ahead to her encounter with the amorous knight and murderer of Hermengild. This knight approaches her, “He woweth hire, but it availeth noght;/She wolde do no synne, by no weye.” (lines 589-590) And so, under the influence of Satan, he sneaks into the chamber she shares with Hermengild, slits the latter’s throat and places the knife by Constance’s pillow. But King Alla and his people, recognizing the inherent goodness of Constance, bring forth her accuser (the spurned knight). The king declares that, “if this knight wol sweren how that she/This woman slow, yet wol we us avyse/Whom that we wole that shal been oure justice.” (lines 664-666) And so the knight goes to swear upon the book, in a ceremony reminiscent of modern citizens placing their hands on the Bible in court, but no sooner does he swear that she is guilty then “an hand hym smoot upon the nekke-boon,/That doun he fil atones as a stoon,/And bothe his eyen broste out of his face/In sighte of every body in that place.” (lines 669-672) Again, Constance is protected by God against those who seek to do her ill. Each of these encounters includes some act of violence, and indeed throughout the tale justice seems to be done by means of violence. But here I wanted to highlight the theme of protection from God and how through her innocence, humility and devotion, she survives each trial, guided and protected by God’s hand.