THE GUIDE AND LEADER:
STUDIES IN A NARRATIVE
STRUCTURAL MOTIF

Thesis for the Degree of Ph. D.
MICHIGAN STATE UNIVERSITY
BARBARA DALLAS PALMER
1969

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This is to certify that the

thesis entitled

"The Guide and Leader: Studies in a
Narrative Structural Motif"

presented by

Barbara Dallas Palmer

has been accepted towards fulfillment
of the requirements for

Ph. D. deg,“ in English

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ABSTRACT

THE GUIDE AND LEADER: STUDIES IN A NARRATIVE
STRUCTURAL MOTIF

By

Barbara Dallas Palmer

A particular variety of narrative, the educational quest of a morally
or spiritually deficient protagonist, derives much of its structural unity
and thematic purpose from the authors' use of the guide convention. That
convention originates with the birth of written literature and extends
through the contemporary novel, adapted, modified, but still vital to the
narrative structure. This study examines various literatures for guide
figures, with the aim of establishing their prevalence and diversity of
form and function. From this general background emerge common
characteristics and uses of the guide. These basic criteria are applied

to several chronologically separated works, The Faerie Queenej Piers

 

Plowman, and For Whom the Bell Tolls, to test, first, the validity of

 

the criteria; and, second, the structural and thematic usefulness of the
convention.

Gilgamesh, classical myth, Biblical myth, and Arthurian legend

 

supply models for the criteria and functions of these guide figures. In

them a hero with mortal roots and divine potential quests to realize that
potential. Because he is morally or spiritually degenerate and because
his journey is through unfamiliar geographical and Spiritual terrain, he

needs a superior figure to guide him. That guide is qualified by either

Barbara Dallas Palmer
prior experience or divine authority, and is a personal embodiment of
the hero's desired ideal. The guide's functions to the hero are physical,
verbal, and illustrative: he precedes him on the path, protects him against
danger, and occasionally even carries him; he admses, interprets for,
chides, and comforts the quester; and by his example he shows the hero
how to behave, giving him a model worthy of imitation.

That model may be isolated in a single figure or it may be cumula-
tive. One form of the convention is the primary guide, a character who
accompanies the hero throughout the quest. Another form is the guide
series, with one guide passing the quester on to a second and so on, with
each figure responsible for his own geographical and metaphorical sphere.
The third form is the secondary or auxiliary guide, who supplies a
particular limited need of the quester, like a dream interpretation, a
prophecy, or physical transportation.

In The Divine Comedy, The Pearl, and The Canterbury Talg

 

 

additional models for the guide convention, the guide figure provides

the structural unity, consistency, and coherency of the narrative. Educa-
tive quests frequently are divergent and complex, portraying a multitude

of situations and personages; the guide figure is one means of ordering

or relating the diversity. By his reactions or comments he supplies a
consistent measure of the hero's progress, and by his example he provides
the conflict and potential resolution of the plot. Through the guide figure,
too, develop themes and characters; the quester's imperfect perception

is untrustworthy, and the reader thus must follow the guide figure's

Barbara Dallas Palmer
evaluation.
These criteria and functions of the guide figure are operative in
narratives written from 2000 B. C. to 1940. In Books I and II of Edmund

Spenser's The Faerie Queene such guides effect a classical model of

 

the quest, diverse, complex, but completely unified and understandable.
The convention is adapted to the narrative's demands. In Book I, a quest
for holiness, the guide figures reveal Spenser's themes; and in Book II,

a quest for temperance, they explicate a representational narrative.

Piers Plowman is a negative model, a narrative which loses its

 

coherency and consistency because of the absence of guide figures. Its
structural elements, the quest, the dream vision, and personification,
require the clarification and interpretation provided by an internal standard.
Because Langland does not supply that standard, the que st's meaning, the
dreamer's progress, and the poem's themes are obscured.

In For Whom the Bell Tolls Ernest Hemingway retains the guide

 

convention but discards the orthodox Christian framework of the quest.
His hero lives in a world without absolute moral or religious values
and must search for substitute beliefs. The quest for a new value system
is conducted by traditional guide figures, endowed with archetypal charac-
teristics and qualified by previous experience.

Hemingway's retention of the guide convention within an ideological
context vastly removed from that of Dante, Langland, or Spenser indicates
that the use of guide figures is not limited to the Christian quest. The

guide motif is not solely a thematic device restricted to the expression

Barbara Dallas Palmer
of particular theological and ethical concepts, but a structural device,
an ordering technique which can span ages, genres, and systems of

belief .

THE GUIDE AND LEADER: STUDIES IN A NARRATIVE
STRUCTURAL MOTIF

By

Barbara Dallas Palmer

A THESIS

Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

Department of English

1969

gc/fla/
’/~27- 70

To my maternal grandparents,
whose example guided my
academic quest

ii

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I should like to thank the members of the graduate faculty of the
Department of English, Michigan State University, for their assistance
and encouragement during the course of my studies and this dissertation.
Without the resources of these men I could not have attempted a subject
of such scape.

My deepest appreciation goes to Professor Arnold Williams, who
both initiated and guided this study. His scholarly example, his patient
forbearance, and his common sense were invaluable. My thanks also
go to committee members Professor Russel B. Nye, Professor Joseph
J. Waldmeir, and Professor Clyde E. Henson, who gave more generously
and graciously of their time and advice than I could have hoped.

My appreciation extends as well to Professor Arthur Sherbo, who
read with care the first portion of this dissertation; to Professor Elwood
P. Lawrence,_ whose confidence frequently ballasted a sinking morale;
and to Richard E. Palmer, whose emotional calm and willingness to proof ~-

read sustained that morale. I am grateful for their friendship.

iii

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION. .. . .. . .....

I. THE GUIDE CONVENTION. GENERAL BACKGROUND
Sumerian Origins . . . . . . . . . . .
Early Myth and Legend. . ......
Medieval Examples of the Guide Convention.

II. STRUCTURAL UNITY IN THE FAERIE QUEENE, BOOKS I

 

ANDII ....... . . ..............

IH. AN INCONSISTENT NARRATIVE STRUCTURE: PIERS

PLOWMAN......... ............

 

IV. FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS: A QUEST TO NADA .

 

CONCLUSION . . .
BIBLIOGRAPHY

iv

17
43

53

123

. 150
. 194
. 198

Tl \ l ‘I ‘ w u I

INTRODUCTION

The quest, a motif which falls somewhere between a structure
and a genre, has received much critical attention. Although such
aspects as its archetypal origins, its continuity through divergent
periods of literature, and its various modifications have been treated
at length, one of the quest's basic elements, the guide-leader, has
gone unnoticed.

In simplest terms, the quest is a narrative with an educational
purpose, the elevation of its protagonist through a journey. Although
almost always oriented toward a goal, this journey can and does take
many forms. It can be geographical, spiritual, or psychological; the
goal can be political, social, or metaphysical, ranging from the need
for individual salvation to picaresque adventure for the sheer love of
the chase. But regardless of what quest or goal the author chooses to
portray, he still must concern himself with structural coherence.
Basically his problem is to convey a character with moral or spiritual
deficiencies through unfamiliar territory to an unrecognized goal--
without losing his reader or his hero in a forest of unknowns.

Some standard of conduct, some measure of progress, must
accompany the quester, and that requirement frequently is met by a

character who functions as a guide or leader to the protagonist. The

1

2

primary characteristic of the guide is his knowledge; he is the one who
knows, as Opposed to the quester who does not know. Especially suited
to his task by some authority, either divine inspiration or previous
experience, he serves to educate the hero. Using particular methods
of motivation and direction, the guide figure elevates his ward to new
awareness and understanding while often also serving as an example of
that elevated standard.

Like the journey or quest motif, however, the guide figure
takes many forms, the variety and origins of which can be seen in
early myth, legend, and narrative. The intention of this study,
therefore, is to examine various literatures for guide figures, with
the aim of establishing their prevalence and diversity of form and
function. From this general background, common characteristics
and uses of the guide will be drawn. These basic criteria then will
be applied to several chronologically separated works to test, first,
the validity of the criteria; and, second, the structural and thematic

usefulness of the convention.

CHAPTER I

THE GUIDE CONVENTION: GENERAL BACKGROUND

Sumerian Origins

 

The origin of these criteria for the guide figure is old, as old
as literature itself. At the very dawn of written literature, the

Gilgamesh poet introduced the journey motif, the questing hero, and

 

his guides, creating forms which have not changed substantially through
the centuries. The epic's narrative involves three quests by Gilgamesh,
the hero-king: first, his search for Humbaba, personified evil; second,
his journey to Utnapishtim the Distant to learn the secret of immortality;
and, third, a delegated quest, with Gilgamesh sending his representa-
tive to recover sacred symbols from the underworld. Episodic in

form, Gilgamesh records incidents designed to enhance its hero-king's

 

historical reputation.

This ruler, Gilgamesh, is in many ways an archetype of questing
heroes, particularly in his origins and social role. He is, as many
ancient heroes are, of both mortal and divine creation, two-thirds god,
one-third man. This duality explains Gilgamesh's most consistent
conflict, that clash of his mortal faults with his divine powers, his
godlike aspirations with his human destiny, his search for divinity with

3

4

his mortal responses. He is granted many gifts which elevate him
above ordinary man: nobility, mental acumen, superior knowledge,
physical perfection. The epic, in fact, Opens with the poet's attempt
to establish his hero's superiority:

[He who7 saw everything Nithin the conf_i7 nes (?) of the land;

ZHe why knew /511 things and was versed (?) in7 everything.

He saw "[se7cret thing(s) and [revealed7 hidden thing(s).

After Gilgamesh was created (?),

The valiant god [. . . perfected] his form . . .

The heavenly Shamash granted him [comeliness], '

Adad granted him heroism [H

The form of Gilgamesh the great gods [made surpassing7.
Eleven cubits _/_ was his heigh]; the breadth of his chest was

nine [spans].

Thus we soon see Gilgamesh's heroic qualifications; his abilities
as a ruler are conveyed through such accomplishments as his building
the great wall of Uruk. His mortal backslidings, however, are not
neglected. "The men of Uruk fufine] in [their] cha[mbers (?)_7, "
because "this furious wild ox" (11, 20, p. 18) amuses himself by
despoiling virgins, seducing betrothed noblewomen, inciting his
warriors to purposeless combat, and refusing to produce a legitimate
heir. Hence the need for spiritual and moral rejuvenation and for the
purifying or informative quests on which Gilgamesh goes enters the

narrative .

 

1 Citations from Gilgamesh in my text are to The Gilgamesh Epic

 

 

and Old Testament Parallels, ed. Alexander Heidel (Chicago, 1963).
The above reference is 11. 1, 2, 5, p. 16; 11. 3-9, p. 17. Heidel's
symbols are: ( ) in translations enclose elements not in the original
but desirable for a better understanding in English; (?) indicate that the
meaning is uncertain; and [ J enclose restorations in the cunneiform
text.

 

5
Gilgamesh is not only unaware of the destinations and purposes
of these journeys, but he also is unaware of his lack of maturity. He
needs a guide, an educative standard, and his city needs a diversionary
force for his juvenile energies. The elders thus implore the gods:
Thou, Aruru, didst create

[Gilgamesh (?)7;
Now create his equal, to the impetuosity of his heart let him

be eqfiial].
Let them ever strive (with each other), and let Uruk (thus)
have re[§t7. (30- 32, p. 18)

Enkidu, "strongest on the steppe" and son of the war god, is created
to challenge Gilgamesh's mortal parts and restore his spiritual.
Archetype of the wild man or churl figure, he is a near match to
his king in physical strength and divine origin:

He looks like Gilgamesh. . . .

He is short(er) in stature,

(But) strong(er) in bo(ne). . . .

A mighty one has arisen (as a match)

For the hero whose appearance is (so) handsome;

For Gilgamesh an equal

Like a god has arisen. (15-17, 24-27, p. 31)
His spiritual nature is hinted at, if not developed, in that he prevents
the animals of the steppe from being killed, filling in the hunter's
pits and destroying his traps. After losing his identification with
animals he is said to have "intefiligence, w71de was his understanding, "
and to be "a strong companion, one who helps a friend in need. "

And he became like a human being.

He put on a garment,
(And now) he is like a man.

He took his weapon

To attack the lions,

(So that) the shepherds could rest at night.

He caught the wolves

(And) captured the lions,

(So that) the great cattle breelders] could lie down;

Enkidu was their watchman,

A strong man,

A unique hero . . . (29, p. 22; 21, p. 25; 25-36, p. 29)

After an earth-shaking wrestling match, narrowly won by Gilgamesh,
their friendship and the king's respect for Enkidu are cemented. The
way for the first quest, with Enkidu as guide, is opened.

This journey to kill Humbaba again stresses Gilgamesh's dual
nature and the resulting conflict. His reasons for the trip are two:
first, to "desflrofl all the evil in the land, " represented by the mysteri-
ous giant, and preserve for Uruk the cedar forest he guards; and,
second, to establish "An everlasting [name] . . . for myself!" (98, 160,
p. 34) Enkidu, the elders, and Gilgamesh's mother Ninsun attempt
to dissuade him, pointing out that he has no idea how to find Humbaba,
let alone fight and defeat the giant. Stubborn in his youthful visions of
glory, Gilgamesh persists, telling Enkidu that all men are mortal and
that through this victory he can achieve immortality. Enkidu thus is
appointed by the elders and Ninsun to help Gilgamesh

face a battle which he does not know,
To travel a road which he does not know. (13- 14, p. 41)

The poet leaves no doubt why Enkidu qualifies as guide:

7

He who goes before safeguards the companion;

He who knows the way protects his friend.

Let Enkidu go before thee.

He knows the way to the cedar forest.

He has seen conflict and is experienced in warfare.

Let Enkidu protect the friend, safeguard the companion.

Let him bring his body over the ditches. (4- 10, p. 40)
These functions of physically leading and protecting Gilgamesh Enkidu
performs, aided by amulets and information supplied by Ninsun. In
addition, he interprets the ruler's dreams and strengthens his flagging
resolve to destroy evil: "Huwawa [musj not fiemain alive] 1"2

At this point the epic breaks off, Gilgamesh's quest to destroy
evil and restore his divine nature apparently successful. Enkidu's
next function is to preserve that restoration by acting as Gilgamesh's
intercessor. Accosted by Ishtar, goddess of love, the king rejects her
propositions. In retaliation she sends against him the Bull of Heaven,
a force whose victory would produce the premature death of the ruler,
famine of the land, and downfall of the country. 3 After the bull has
killed well over five hundred young warriors, symbols of the nation's
sexual lifeforce, Enkidu kills it, thus protecting Gilgamesh's spiritual
purity and Uruk's agricultural fertility.

Gilgamesh, however, still is part mortal, and no man can defy

 

2 The name appears as Huwawa in the Old Babylonian and Hittite
versions and as Humbaba in the Assyrian recension, according to
Heidel.

3 Gilgamesh's confrontation with the Bull of Heaven suggests the
Fisher King and fertility legends in other myths. See Frazer, note 5
below, for further information on these archetypal motifs.

8

the gods and live. Enkidu thus becomes a surrogate sacrifice, performing
two more functions which would jeopardize Gilgamesh's life and the
country's welfare. First, in a Sumerian legend which apparently
precedes the Gilgamesh epic, the symbols of divine favor are given to
mankind, which promptly loses them. Inanna, queen of heaven, makes
plikfland M, objects corresponding in significance to the lance and
the grail in Christian legend. These she entrusts to Gilgamesh, who drops
them into the underworld. After his metaphorical lament over not
having left them in the "house of the carpenter" or "with the wife of
the carpenter" (1-2, p. 95), he accepts Enkidu's offer to bring them
up from the underworld. Gilgamesh's inability to retrieve the objects
himself (his hand and foot did not reach them) is not explained; one can
only theorize from other myths that humans seldom emerge from death's
realm unscathed. Having lost the heavenly symbols, Gilgamesh hardly
was foolish enough to expect divine protection for their recovery. At
any rate, the job is given to Enkidu, who is warned by Gilgamesh how
to avoid permanent captivity. He does not heed the advice (no indication
of its soundness is given), loses his body, and does not recover mikkfi
and plkk_u. His spirit, however, briefly returns to tell Gilgamesh the
ways of the underworld and the fate of man, information which strongly
implies that Gilgamesh's afterlife would be far more comfortable were
he to produce heirs and fight legitimate battles.

The second episode in which Enkidu serves as his king's substitute

follows the death of the Bull of Heaven. For interfering with divine

9

will, the gods decree that either Enkidu or Gilgamesh must die. Again
no reasons for the substitution are suggested, but Enkidu is doomed.
His death preserves Gilgamesh, of course, but it also produces further
spiritual inquiry and the hero's second quest, this time in search of
immortality. Thus Enkidu generates growth through example.

In his journey to Utnapishtim the Distant Gilgamesh has no
single guide, although by implication he follows Enkidu's spirit.
Instead, he receives direction and advice from a variety of figures,
each entrusting him to the next one's care. After some wandering,
the protection of the moon god Sin, and a dream, he reaches the
mountain of Mashu, guarded by the scorpion- people. The scorpion—
man asks his purpose, to which Gilgamesh replies,

[For the sake of] Utnapishtim, my father, [have I come7,

Who entered into the assembly of [the gods. . . .J

Concerning life and death [I— would ask him]. (3-5, p. 66)
Approving his determination, the scorpion-man opens Mashu's gate
and allows him to pass, but he warns the king that because of darkness,
pain, and sorrow no man has yet reached Utnapishtim. Gilgamesh
then proceeds without a guide until he merges into the light-filled
garden of precious stones. Here the barmaid, Siduri, again warns
him that his mission is futile, telling him to love and enjoy life,

(For) when the gods created mankind,

They allotted death to mankind,
(But) life they retained in their keeping. (3— 5, p. 70)

10
Not hindered, Gilgamesh asks
/_Now7, barmaid, which is the way to Utnapi/:Shtim7 ?
[What ar§7 the directions? Give me, oh, give me the
directions! (16-17, p. 74)
Siduri directs him to Utnapishtim's boatman, Urshanabi, to whom he
repeats the request. Chiding the king for his sacrilegious acts and
ordering him to perform a sort of retributive test, Urshanabi
finally punts Gilgamesh to Utnapishtim, who again questions his purpose.
Under the divine's care, Gilgamesh learns of the flood legend,
Utnapishtim's escape in the ark, and the trials he himself must undergo
to achieve immortality. Because of his mortality, Gilgamesh fails
the trials. He is saved, restored, and returned to complete his mortal
destiny only by Utnapishtim's beneficence.
Although somewhat fragmented and undeveloped compared to

later literature, the Gilgamesh epic introduces an amazing number of

 

criteria and forms of the quest, the hero, and the guide figure. A
summary and evaluation of these elements will help to organize discus—
sion of their treatment in other works. Gilgamesh is a representative
questing hero in his internal conflict between mortal and divine forces.
In his case the struggle is caused by his dual origins; other heroes find
their base or human nature opposing their spiritual intentions, or the
actions they perform betraying the ideals they hold. Further, Gilgamesh
is morally, spiritually, and intellectually qualified for his role but

has backslid into turpitude: he is the good man, born innocent, who has

11
degraded his nature through evil companions, idle ways, or spiritual
confusion, and thus needs regeneration. Finally, Gilgamesh is
representative of a society, a class, mankind; consequently, he and
his quests serve as models for Everyman, who hopefully feels that he
too must realize his nobler qualities. The quest situation, then,
presents a potentially good or ideal man attempting perfection of his
divine nature, testing the limits of himself and his values, seeking
spiritual rebirth. Finally, in Gilgamesh we see the hero trapped in
his human condition, unable through ignorance or lack of desire to
reach divine knowledge and salvation without guidance.

A second element introduced by this early epic is the quest
motif, a quest whose primary goal is religious or ethical. Whether
conscious or unconscious, the hero's aim is spiritual betterment,
rejuvenation, revelation, or salvation. The basic plot involves the
quester's going

On a far journey, . .

To face a battle which he does not know,

To travel a road which he does not know. (12-14, p. 41)

In conjunction with the hero's mortal and spiritual duality his far
journey also operates on two levels--geographical and figurative.

The geographical quest is, of course, physical progress over unfamiliar
terrain. Its elements can include dangerous natural hazards, such as
swamps, deserts, forests, rivers; threatening weather conditions, such

as severe rain, snow, or hail storms; grotesque or preternatural foes,

12

such as wild animals, giants, dwarfs, churls; and supernatural powers,
such as embodied malicious gods or fates. The hero's mortal forces
must prevail against these physical obstacles and unknown geography.
The physical obstacles, however, figure conceptual obstacles which
the hero must confront. His spiritual nature must cope with the series
of moral tests and trials which constitutes his metaphorical journey.
Occasionally these trials are distinct from such physical confrontations
as sexual temptation or direct choice between good and evil, but more
often the physical tests also measure spiritual progress. The object
of the quest, for example, may be quite real, such as a lost possession
or friend, but may also represent a spiritual state to be recovered.
Various foes, such as black knights, dragons, chimeras, present a
real physical danger in themselves but personify as well certain
moral pitfalls to be avoided. Geographical locations, too, are
figurative mental or moral arenas; a castle may stand for a fortress of
sin, a forest for ethic chaos, a stream for divine purification. Thus
the hero's ability or inability to conquer the physical obstacles
becomes a measure of his spiritual progress.

A more refined measure of his progress, for both hero and

reader, is the guide, again introduced in the Gilgamesh epic. To face

 

the battle and travel the road which he does not know the hero needs
a knowledgeable figure to lead him, someone who is familiar with both
the geographical and spiritual territory. Three possible types of

guide are suggested in Gilgamesh: the primary guide, Enkidu; secondary

 

13
guides, such as Ninsun; and the series of consecutive guides found in
the quest to Utnapishtim.

The "primary" guide is a single figure, commissioned by divine
authority or previous experience, who accompanies the hero throughout
his quest. He may direct geographically, protect physically, chide,
advise, inform, and caution the quester. He may, like Enkidu, serve
as a substitute for the hero on occasion, restore his courage, reassure
him, or command action. In most cases, this primary guide also
becomes a friend and companion to the hero. Their interrelationship
is more than superficially significant, for it serves as a direct measure
of the hero's progress; the closer guide and quester move toward
becoming peers instead of superior and novice, the more approval the
guide expresses of the quester's actions and reactions, the less advice
and interpretation the guide must offer, then the greater the hero's
spiritual growth. By noting the guide's reactions and the changing
relationship one can determine how much information the quester has
absorbed, what meaning various experiences have held for him, and
how far he has yet to travel on his spiritual journey. In other words,
since the guide figure represents the elevated standard sought by the
quester, any reduction in the guide's superiority indicates the hero's

growth. Through Gilgamesh, too, one sees the guide as a functioning

 

character, an artistic creation, who may be as roundly or fully
developed as 1the writer's skill or the narrative's needs dictate. Enkidu

is not a mere personified standard of conduct or an animated road map;

14
he also has fears, physical pain, and sexual desires with which he
must come to terms. On occasion Gilgamesh must protect and advise
his guide in order that the journey proceed, and in their alternations of
role we see the difference between dynamic narrative and static didacticism.

"Secondary" or "auxiliary" guides, also present in Gilgamesh,

 

perform some of the above functions but are not constant companions
or consistent stanchrds for the hero. In this group belong heralds,
messengers, dream interpreters, prOphets, visionaries, oracles,
and providers of transportation. For example, Ninsun interprets
Gilgamesh's dreams and gives Enkidu protective amulets, but she does
not go on the quest or vicariously direct it. Instead, as do all these
secondary guides, she fills a specific gap in the narrative's progress
or the hero's knowledge, supplying just enough information or protection
to speed him and the reader one step further.

The "guide series" or "consecutive guides" do not differ greatly
from secondary guides in their individual functions, but as a whole
they provide a workable alternative to the primary guide. No single
figure has total responsibility for the hero's geographical or spiritual
progress; instead, one guide supplies the direction necessary for the
quester to reach a second guide, who in turn tells him how to reach the
third, and so on. For example, Gilgamesh's quest for Utnapishtim the
Distant requires four guides. He finds his own way, after much wander-
ing, to the scorpion-people who guard the mountain of Mashu. The

scorpion-man warns him of the danger and futility of his quest but

15
permits him to pass through the locale he protects. Gilgamesh next
finds Siduri, spirit of the garden of precious jewels, who also warns
him that his quest is futile. She advises him of life's meaning and
then directs the obdurant Gilgamesh to Urshanabi, Utnapishtim's
boatman. Urshanabi, prototype of Charon, chides Gilgamesh for his
sins, explains the means he must use to reach his goal, and physically
conveys him to Utnapishtim. This final guide answers Gilgamesh's
questions, tests his sincerity of purpose, admonishes his backsliding,
and provides protection for the return journey. He also, through
Urshanabi, restores and purifies the degraded hero. Each of these
guides, then, is responsible for a particular locale and stage of the
quest while still having some knowledge of the entire quest and the
ultimate goal. Although they perform similar functions in relation to
Gilgamesh, apparently they cannot transcend their own limitations to
help him further. Several advantages of this guide series over the
primary guide can be postulated: first, it provides variety of character,
locale, and transition——one sees the hero in relation to many figures
instead of to only a single guide. Second, a guide series may better
meet the narrative's demands; its scope may be too broad for a reader's
credibility in a single guide's knowledge, or it may include areas
inaccessible to the particular guide, such as Virgil's inability to enter
Paradise with Dante. Finally, a guide series often serves verisimilitude,
in its implied value of "learning from the natives"; the knowledge of

a resident can seem more credible than the observation of a stranger.

16

The Gilgamesh epic, then, introduces many possible facets of the

 

quest, the questing hero, and the guide figure. Several peripheral
motifs or devices, significant primarily because they recur in later

works, also are suggested by Gilgamesh. First, one should not ignore

 

the question of whether the quest is fulfilled; if a quest fails one must
consider the reasons why, the benefits gained, the meaning of the failure.
Is the failure due to an unattainable goal, an incapable hero, or an
undependable guide? If these responsibilities can be pinpointed, if the
reader can sort out what elements belong to theme, what to convention,
what to narration, what to author's variation, then he can better ask
himself how technically efficient the portrayal, how stylistically effective
the means. This stylistic analysis, this evaluation of the role played

by the guide figure in narrative continuity, is hindered by the fragmented

state of the Gilgamesh tablets, but in later works one can judge how well

 

the guide serves simply to hold a diffused story together.

Second, Gilgamesh suggests various motifs, largely undeveloped,

 

which appear within almost every figurative quest. The dream vision
or portending dream, the presence or loss of heavenly symbols, the
fertility-wasteland legend (including seasonal alteration, hostile forest,
death of the old ruler, role of the White Goddess figure) frequently
belong to the quest. Standard mythical figures, too, are stock-in-
trade: churl, ferryman or boatman, hermit, maiden, and monster or

4
animal guide. Tracing the sources and significance of these

 

4 The monster or animal guide probably derives from the beast

fables and fairy stories. This variation of the convention makes the
guide figure the quester's social inferior, perhaps a servant or frequently

17
miscellaneous elements is not directly relevant to this study; they are
mentioned only to suggest the basic similarities and common parts of the
quest motif—guide figure regardless of the time or form in which it is

presented.

EarlLMyth and Legend

 

Gilgamesh, then, introduces the major concerns of this dissertation:

 

the quest, the questing hero, the guide figure, and their thematic and
stylistic effectiveness in conveying the work to the reader. It now
remains to consider variations of these conventions, to view the full
scape of possible functions and criteria for the guide figure. To that
end we will use classical myth, Biblical myth, and Arthurian legend,
later turning from these bodies of material to single works in which
the guide appears.

In Greek, Roman, and Mesopotamian legend5 we find two divisions

 

an animal, whose primary function is to provide transportation, carrying
the quester in his arms or on his back. Consider, for example, the fairy
tale "The King of the Waterfalls, " in which the young ruler relies on a
shaggy horse, a slim yellow dog, a hoary hawk, and a brown otter, who also
verbally instruct him, to reach his goal. See "The King of the Waterfalls, "
The Lilac Fairy Book, ed. Andrew Lang (New York, 1968), pp. 75-90.

We will encounter this variation 01 the guide as an animal or social inferior
in Raphael, who serves as Tobias' camel driver in the book of Tobit;
Chaucer's golden eagle in The House of Fame; and Satyrane, in Book I of
Spenser's The Faerie Queene.

 

 

 

5 Summaries of the various myths are taken from Thomas Bulfinch,
The Age of Fable (Garden City, N.Y. , n. d. ); Sir James George Frazer,
The New Golden Bough, ed. Theodor H. Gaster (Garden City, N.Y. , 1961);
Robert Graves, The Greek Myths, 2 vols. (Baltimore, Md. , 1955); and
Edith Hamilton, Mythology Glew York, 1942).

 

 

 

18

of the quest: a search for someone, and a search for something. Both
types are geographical and figurative, although a clear-cut metaphorical
interpretation often eludes contemporary readers. Most frequently
recurring motifs are the fertility-wasteland theme, the under- or
otherworld search, and the death or replacement of the old king.

Representative examples of the search for someone include the
Demeter-Persephone, Orpheus-Eurydice, Psyche-Cupid, Isis-Osiris,
and Ishtar-Tammuz myths; a brief recounting of them will help to focus
later discussion of the guide figures involved. Demeter or Ceres was
the gentle, gay goddess of the cornfield until her daughter, Persephone,
was abducted by lustful Hades. During her despondent search, the
earth's fertility fades, thus making Persephone's restoration
symbolic of seasonal alternation and the characters symbolic of the
Goddess in Triad: Demeter the maiden or green corn; Persephone the
nymph or ripe corn; and Hecate the crane or harvested corn, all
figures which reappear in other quests. 6 The Tammuz and Osiris
legends, too, illustrate the "fruitful union of the powers of fertility,
the sad death of one at least of the divine partners, and his joyful
resurrection.” In Semitic legend Tammuz was the lover of Ishtar,
the mother goddess. After his death she follows him to the underworld,
causing the death of vegetation which is later restored by their return.

Osiris, an Egyptian god, married his sister, Isis, who also searched

 

6 Graves, I, 92.

7 Frazer, p. 163.

19
for him after his death. Because of her wanderings and the dismembered
condition of the king- god's body the world falls into a decline until Isis
returns and Osiris' body is reassembled through the help of Ra, the
sun-god, a restoration obviously symbolic of seasonal change. The
Psyche myth appears to be a metaphor of the soul's purification through
suffering. 8 Because of her lack of faith and aimless curiosity Psyche
loses Cupid, her lover. After long wanderings and severe tasks, she
is restored to him, thereby restoring her own psychological unity as
well. The Orpheus legend is significant primarily because it involves
the familiar quest to the underworld. After the death of his bride,
Eurydice, the Thracian musician braves the journey to the underworld
to recover her. Charmed by Orpheus' music, the rulers of Hades
agree to release Eurydice, provided that Orpheus does not look back
at her as he leads the way to the upper world. He weakens, however, and
turns, only to see Eurydice slip back into the darkness.

All of these legends involve quests of restoration: restoration of
soul, fertility, love, the world's proper order. None, however, uses
a primary guide figure. Demeter receives news of the abduction from
Hecate and Triptolemus, and Zeus sends messengers to urge her to
restore fertility, but she has no guide either on earth or in hell.
Likewise, Ishtar's return is urged by the god Ea's messenger, but she
has no help in the underworld. Ra, the sun-god, heeds Isis' prayers

to find Osiris and sends Thoth to teach her a restorative spell, but

 

8 Bulfinch, p. 96.

20
gives her no consistent aid or direction. Psyche, in a dream vision,
hears voices guiding her exiled behavior; various instruments help
her to perform Venus' tasks; and a tower directs her to the underworld
road. Her search for Cupid is unaccompanied, interspersed with
secondary guides who provide the direction or aid to go one step further.
Orpheus searches the same route with a similar purpose, but strangely
enough has no help; the charming spell of his lyre is his only protection
and he apparently knows where to go. How these figures can quest
through earth and hell without a guide is speculative; perhaps because
they themselves usually are gods, perhaps because the gods' guidance
Of them is assumed, perhaps because the figurative nature Of their
quest is secondary to the actual stress.

The second type of mythological quest, the search for something,
is exemplified by the Orion, Jason, Hercules, Odysseus, and Aeneas
legends.9 These quests also Operate on both geographical and figurative
levels, but are more Open to figurative interpretation: each hero is in
search of a symbol which will restore his wholeness, his place in the
universal scheme, and must endure a series Of tests to Obtain that goal.
Orion has been punished with loss of sight by Oenopion for his ravishing
Of Merope, OenOpion's daughter; he thus must travel to Helius to regain
both physical and moral vision. Jason must voyage to Colchis for the
Golden Fleece, a prize which will prove his fitness to restore his land

and replace the Old king. Hercules, through successful performance of

 

9 Summaries Of the Orion, Jason, and Hercules myths are taken
from Bulfinch, Frazer, Graves, and Hamilton (see note 5 above).

21
twelve tasks, must prove to Zeus that he is worthy of becoming a god.
Both Odysseus and Aeneas seem to be on purification quests, enduring
various personal trials and tests of leadership before Aeneas can assume
his rank and Odysseus resume his.

None of these mortal heroes, all of whom have some strong
affiliation with the divine, requires a primary guide, but extensive
use is made of both secondary guides and the guide series. Blind
Orion is started on his journey by an oracle; he later follows the
sound of the Cyclops' hammer; and he eventually carries Cedalion,
the apprentice smithy, on his shoulders, using his eyes to reach Helius.
The stress, however, is on supplementing Orion's senses, not on his
spiritual deficiencies. Jason, too, is given a series of navigational
directors but must cope self-sufficiently with his moral trials.

Phineus warns him of the rocks which guard the Bosphorus' entrance,
King Lycus gives the Argonauts his son Dascylus to guide them along
the coast, and Phineus advises Jason of the best return route, but no
one accompanies him through more than one obstacle.

Hercules' legend is a life-long quest for peace of mind and the
reparation of impulsive behavior. The ideal hero in everything but
intelligence, his only permanent enemy is his own rashness; his
labors are an attempt to repair the effects of that rashness. No constant
companion supplies his missing intelligence throughout his life's
journey, although he receives guidance from oracles, his cousin King

Eurystheus of Mycenae, and the various gods. The Delphic oracle

22
directs him to the king, who commands his purgative labors, which in
turn are furthered by such divine intervention as Atlas and Athena can
supply. Hercules, however, is guided on occasion by his more intelligent
friend, Theseus, a relationship which Robert Graves sees as parallel
to Gilgamesh- Enkidu:
The relations of Gilgamesh and his comrade Enkidu

closely resemble those of Theseus, the Athenian Hercules,
and his comrade Peirithous [Theseus7 who goes down to

Tartarus and fails to return . . . and Gilgame sh's adven—
tures with the Scorpions has been awarded to the Boetian
Orion.

Graves goes on to point out further similarities:

The bronze urn in which Hercules sailed to Erytheia was
an appropriate vessel for a visit to the Island of Death,
and perhaps has been confused with the bronze cauldron.
In the Eleventh Tablet of the Babylonian Creation Epic,
Gilgamesh makes a similar journey to a sepulchral island
across a sea of death, using his garment for a sail. This
incident calls attention to many points of resemblance
between the Hercules and Gilgamesh myths; the common
source is probably Sumerian. Like Hercules, Gilgamesh
kills a monstrous lion and wears its pelt . . , seizes a
sky-bull by the horns and overcomes it . . , discovers a
secret herb of invulnerability . . , takes the same journey
as the Sun . . , and visits a Garden of the Hesperides
where, after killing a dragon coiled around a sacred tree,
he is rewarded with two sacred objects from the Underworld. 10

Graves seems somewhat surer of his Gilgamesh reading than the

 

condition of the tablets and other translations would warrant, but

 

1° Graves, II, 142'. Hamilton refers to Hercules and his friend
Theseus while Graves refers to Theseus, "the Athenian Hercules, and
his comrade Peirithous"; the characters are identical in spite of the
confusion of names.

23

his basic comparison is valid. Stress, however, is not placed in the
Hercules myth on the single guide-companion; Theseus appears but is
overshadowed by secondary guides and magical intervention. In fact,
Hercules' journey to the underworld, his twelfth labor, is without guide
and entails freeing Theseus from the chair of Forgetfulness; Enkidu,
by contrast, serves as Gilgamesh's substitute to the underworld.

Homer's Odyssey uses a guide series and secondary guides to
convey reader and hero through unknown territory. Various oracles,
rulers, and gods too numerous to recite provide Odysseus with comfort
and direction during his ten years of wandering. The tenth book, however,
exemplifies the type Of guidance he receives. Aiolos first helps Odysseus:

But when I asked him @iolos] about the way back and requested

conveyance, again he did not refuse, but granted me passage.

He gave me a bag made of the skin taken off a nine-year ox,

stuffed full inside

with the courses of all the blowing winds,

for the son of Kronos had set him in charge

over the windsI 1to hold them still or start them up at his

pleasure.

After Odysseus has carelessly lost the gift of winds, he returns to ask
Aiolos for further aid, but Aiolos has fulfilled his function:

0 least of living creatures, out of this island! Hurry!

I have no right to see on his way, none to give passage

to any man whom the gods hate with such bitterness.

Out. This arrival means you are hateful to the immortals.
(X, 72-75, p. 154)

 

 

11 Citations from the Odyssey in my text are to The Odysseyof
Homer, trans. Richard Lattimore New York, 1967). The above reference
is X, 17-22, p. 152.

24
Odysseus next sails unguided to the island of Aiaia, home of "Circe of
the lovely hair, the dread goddess who talks with mortals" (X, 135-6,
p. 155). Initially defeated by her guile, he is intercepted by Hermes,

who warns him that he cannot defeat Circe unprotected:

Where are you going, unhappy man, all alone, through the

hilltops,
ignorant of the land-lay, and your friends are here in Circe's
place, in the shape of pigs and holed up in the close pig pens.
Do you come here meaning to set them free? I do not think
you will get back yourself, but must stay here with the others.
But see, I will find you a way out of your troubles, and save you.
Here, this is a good medicine, take it, and go into Circe's
house; it will give you power against the day of trouble.
And I will tell you all the malevolent guiles of Circe.

(X, 281-289, p. 159)

After preventing with the moly her planned transformation of him,
Odysseus accepts Circe as his next mentor; she releases him from her
care but warns him that

there is another journey you must accomplish and reach

the house of Hades and of revered Persephone, there to

consult with the soul of Teiresias the Theban, the blind

prOphet, whose senses stay unshaken within him . . .
(X, 490-493, p. 165)

Terribly distressed by this news the hero asks

Circe, who will be our guide on that journey?
No one has ever yet in a black ship gone all the way to Hades.
(X, 501-502, p. 165)
Circe tells him that her verbal aid will be sufficient guidance and

gives geographical directions to the Styx. She instructs him on

25
communicating with the dead spirits and on making appropriate sacrifice
to Teiresias, Odysseus' next guide: I

Then, leader of the host, the prophet will soon come to you,

and he will tell you the way to go, the stages of your journey,

and tell you how to make your home on the sea where the fish

swarm.
(X, 538-541, p. 166)

These four guides, then, conduct Odysseus through their peculiar
spheres, protecting him in their arenas alone. Similar guidance occurs
in the remainder of the Odyssey: Teiresias prophesies the voyagers'
eventual fate; they return to Circe, who warns them to avoid the Sirens
and other perils; they are fed and directed further by Calypso and,
later, Nausicaa; and, finally, Odysseus is disguised by Athene for his
last task. Primarily physical guides, these figures nevertheless
form an almost continuous chain to encourage and direct Odysseus.
Since the narrative's stress is on his physical return and his restoration
of Ithaca rather than on his spiritual purification, the guides' figurative
role also must be inferred from his geographical progress.

The guide figures in Virgil's Aeneid are similarly structured,
with the exception of the Cumaean Sibyl and Anchises, Aeneas' guides
through hell. This type of journey and guide is more fully developed,
for our purposes, by Dante and thus needs only brief treatment here.
The Sibyl prophesies perils and terror for Aeneas' undertakings, a
doom which he accepts with equanimity. He requests her aid, however,

to talk with his father's ghost, and the Sibyl consequently agrees to lead

26
him through hell. She restrains him from killing monsters, explains
who Charon's passengers are, rebukes him for transgressing Pluto's
laws, consoles him, represents him to Charon, subdues Cerberus,
hurries him from the place of purgation to the city of the blessed, and
finds Anchises for him. She thus is Aeneas' intercessor, comforter,
companion, and physical guide. After the Sibyl has exhausted her
knowledge Musaeus takes over and leads them both to Anchises' valley.
From Anchises Aeneas receives his spiritual lesson on life, death,
and honor and his practical lesson on coping with fate:
Thus they wander up and down over the whole region

of broad vaporous plains, and scan all the scene. And when

Anchises had led his son over it, each point by each, and

kindled his spirit with passion for the glories on their

way, he tells him thereafter of the war he next must wage,

and instructs him of the Laurentine peoples and the city of

Latinus, and in what wise he may avoid or endure every

burden.

The pre-Christian myths discussed above, in spite of their
many layers and confusing duplication of sources, still point to the
need for guide figures in an otherworldly or metaphorical journey. In
the myths these figures appear briefly, conduct the hero through their
area or give him sufficient direction to proceed alone, and then disappear.
Their means of aid include prophecy, omen, herbs or magical devices,
disguise, explanation, interpretation, and physical transportation.

Their qualifications are, of course, knowledge and, in most cases,

 

12 Virgil, The Aeneid, x1, 11. 887-893, in Virgil's Works: The
Aeneid, Eclogues, Georgics, trans. J .W. Mackail (New York, 1950),
p. 127.

 

 

27
divine sanction or divinity itself. As a narrative device to provide
continuity, these mythical guides are relatively unimportant; their
quicksilver appearances and equally rapid departures are merely inter-
ventions or respites in the hero's slogging progress.

The appearance of guide figures in the J udeo-Christian Bible is
equally limited, but their primary function is somewhat different.
Rather than aiding the hero, these guides serve as explicators of God's
will, interpreting His often hidden meanings to those mortals meant to
carry them out. Frequently no intercessor is needed; for example,
Jehovah Himself instructs the guide figure, Moses, who directs the
questing Israelites to the Promised Land:

Wherefore say unto the children of Israel, I am the Lord,
and I will bring you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians,
and I will rid you out of their bondage, and I will redeem you
with a stretched out arm, and with great judgments . . .

And I will bring you in unto the land, concerning the which
I did swear to give it to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob; and
I will give it you for an heritage: I am the Lord. . . .

But God led the peOple about, through the way of the wilder-
ness of the Red Sea . . .

And the Lord went before them by day in a pillar of a

cloud, to lead them the way; and by night in a pillar of fire, to
give them light; to go by day and night . . .13

Jehovah's guidance is even more inclusive in Abraham's search:

Now the Lord had said unto Abram, Get thee out of thy
country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father's house,
unto a land that I will shew thee :

 

13 Biblical citations in the text are to the Authorized Version. The
above reference is Exodus 6: 6, 8; 13: 18, 21.

28
And I will make of thee a great nation, and I will

bless thee, and make thy name great; and thou shalt be a

blessing:

And I will bless them that bless thee, and curse him
that curseth thee: and in thee shall all families of the
earth be blessed.

(Genesis 12: 1-2)

Apart from the godhead itself, guide figures appear in three
other books of the Bible: Daniel, Tobit, and John's Revelation. A
brief analysis of these figures should indicate their qualifications and
functions.

Daniel and the angel Gabriel, guide figures in the book of Daniel,
are guides to the Kingdom of Heaven, guides in a spiritual rather than
physical sense. Possessed of wisdom, understanding, and moral
uprightness, Daniel thus is chosen by God to interpret the forewarning
dreams to which kings are prone. He is God's explicator to the
spiritually unenlightened. When Daniel himself becomes a dreaming
king, Gabriel is sent to reassure, interpret, and prophesy the apocalypse.
Finally God directly intercedes to comfort Daniel and to explain his
vision of the last judgment. The guide figures in this book, then,
are solely dream interpreters, agents through whom God's will may be
known to man; they are, in a sense, figurations of God's grace and
intervention in mortal affairs.

The guides in John's Revelation--various heavenly voices, a
fellow servant of God, and an elder--are not consistently employed in

either technique or theme. John has been given a divinely-ordered

responsibility to write what he sees and hears, and the heavenly voices

29
help him to fulfill that responsibility. They give him messages to
relate; tell him what to record and what merely to observe; order him
to eat the little book and prophesy, and to measure the Temple of God;
and lead him to the Whore of Babylon. These heavenly residents direct
John and interpret a few symbols, but they command him as a bard
rather than as a spiritual backslider. Vaguely conceived in the mind
of the author, they exhibit no characterization or concretion.

Raphael, the guide figure in the book of Tobit, is almost a mimetic
character compared to John's heavenly voices. Sent by God to bring
about certain specific events, he guides Tobias only insofar as these
events are concerned and is not a general spiritual mentor. He knows
the way to Rages, instructs Tobias about the fish, comforts and
protects him, arranges his marriage, tells him to write his adventure
in a book, and disappears when these practical matters have been com-
pleted. The interesting aspect of this guide figure, however, is not what
he does but how he is treated. In Tobit's questioning of his family
line and his role as marriage broker, the angel of God takes on human
features; when Tobias drafts him as a camel driver, the story reveals
more humorous folklore than divine inspiration. Although he certainly
figures God's grace and intervention, Raphael also is a character in
his own right, much as Chaucer's golden eagle.

Biblical guide figures, then, act within the framework of a dream
or vision, are appointed and equipped by God for their role, and
serve primarily to interpret or enact the divine will on earth. With

the possible exception of Raphael, these guides are not literary creations ;

3 0
that is, they are theological mouthpieces rather than dynamic characters,
and the reader is unable to determine their physical appearance,
psychological motivation, or emotional complexity.

The third and final body of material which influences the guide
figure's later forms and functions is Arthurian legend. 14 Our interest
in this tradition, particularly as found in Malory, is not only the guide
figures it uses but also the nature of the quests it presents, for the
motifs recur through the twentieth century. Three types of journey
are related: knightly adventure; quest for the Holy Grail; and Arthur's
life as a continuous spiritual quest. All three types have two elements:
first, the personal, the spiritual salvation or improvement of the
individual involved; and, second, the public, the preservation of the
kingdom and its moral purity from malignant forces.

Knightly adventures, the first type of journey, show the hero in
conflict with himself, the personified and dramatized body versus soul
debate. Loomis' statement that "most of the British and Armoric
knights that encircle Uther's son were once gods or deified men . . , "15
suggests both the source of the conflict and the noble nature of those

knights who attempt to resolve it. In the Arthurian tales one finds

familiar faces, heroes who correspond to those adventuring figures of

 

14 Citations from Arthurian legend in my text are to The Works
of Sir Thomas Malo_ry, ed. Eugene Vinaver, 3 vols. (Oxford, 1967).
The notation indicates volume, book, and page numbers, in that order.

 

 

15 Roger Sherman Loomis, Celtic Myth and Arthurian Romance
(New York, 1927), p. 5.

 

3 1
Semitic and Greek myth, whose journeys revolve around archetypal
motifs. Guinevere's abduction recalls Persephone's, including its
seasonal and solar implications. Gawain, Curoi, Cuchulinn have been
seen as embodiments of the seasonal myth and the old versus new king
combat motif. Merlin was once the madman-prophet, Launcelot the
stolen child ignorant of his name and rank.

These knights thus continue a long tradition of heroes who are
born with a claim to divinity or perfection but, because that claim is
staked on mortal soil, must spend their lives cultivating it. As
Loomis expresses it,

Old Irish literature contains stories of strange perils and

difficult tasks which the heroes had to adventure in order

to win the "sovereignty," a euhemerist substitution for the

godhead. The same theme recurs countless times in

Arthurian romance. Every young knight when he appears

on the scene must demonstrate his supremacy as a drawer

of swords, an embracer of hideous hags, a crosser of

perilous bridges, a sleeper in haunted cemetaries. The

Grail legend itself is, to all intents and purposes, the

account of the success or failure of various knights in

meeting a series of tests. 16

In these various individual adventures the knights find their
way without primary or consecutive guides. Secondary guides,
discussed at length below in relation to the Grail quest, provide
transient help and direction. For example, Sir Gareth of Orkney

accompanies a scornful damsel through miles of unknown territory.

Her ridicule, of course, is a constant test for him, but in their

 

15 Loomis, pp. 82-83.

32
adventures the only help he receives is that of the Green Knight, who
offers, at the lady's request, to lead them through a forest. Otherwise
they wander, meeting what seem to be fortuitous trials whose precise
value in the development of Gareth's character is unknown. Sir
Launcelot du Lake, too, has no consistent guide for his adventures, a
strange omission for a hero whose moral fiber is constantly in the
balance and who plays such a central part in the fate of Camelot. Several
mysterious damsels direct him to his next foe, but he wanders through
strange countries on his own, finding even his lodgings "by fortune"
(I, vi, p. 272).

The lack of a guide figure in these adventures, however, does
not cause great interpretive problems for the reader. The stress is
so strong on action, adventure, and physical confrontation that the
knight's spiritual purpose becomes a thematic undercurrent, an
unquestioned goal which apparently is measured only by the success or
failure of the physical trials. In other words, the narrator's primary
concern is to present a dramatic, interesting adventure, not to save
the reader's soul; although certainly implied, his didactic purpose is
subordimnt to his love of relating a good story.

The second type of Arthurian journey, the quest for the Sankgreal
or Holy Grail, does have a primarily spiritual theme; its metaphorical
and didactic level is equal to its narrative and physical. Loomis has
traced three forms of the Grail itself: Celtic talisman; fertility symbol;

and Christian relic. 17 Arthurian legend concentrates on the latter

 

17 Loomis, p. 139.

33

function but incorporates elements of the other two. In accordance with
these three uses is the Grail's meaning to the quester: it may become a
talisman with healing virtues, particularly when the narrative involves
the young versus old king motif; an inexhaustible provider of food and
drink, in relation to the fertility-wasteland motif; or a denial of food to
the unworthy, a moral and spiritual testing device. 18 Loomis also
provides a basic pattern for all Grail quests, whether pagan- or
Christian-oriented. The knight wanders through a wasteland or fore st
until by nightfall he arrives at a magical castle whose lord is supposedly
absent. Entertained by a lovely lady during the evening, he eventually
takes a seat to watch the night through. During the night he is attacked
by the storm god, a gigantic figure who eventually is overpowered by
the hero's endurance and moral purity. He faces other tests, usually
sexual temptation by the lady and an attack by a monster, which somehow
result in the quester's ignominy. The lord of the castle returns in the
morning to explain the tests the hero has faced and to evaluate his
performance. 19

This basic pattern is maintained in Malory's "Tale of the Sankgreal. "
The time is Pentacost, four hundred and fifty years after Christ's death,
and both the land and its knights are in need of regeneration. Maimed
and blind, the old king cannot be restored until a holy knight sees the

Grail, received after the Last Supper by Joseph of Aramathea, who

 

18 Loomis, pp. 228 ff.

19 Loomis, pp. 171- 172.

34
promised to pass a vision of the sacred vessel to a spiritually deserving
descendent of his ninth generation. The Grail thus functions as a
Christian relic and as a fertility symbol, a reaffirmation of God's
grace and protection.

Guide figures, then, should be intrinsically necessary to this
quest: the knights do not know which one of them is Joseph's descendent;
they do not know where they are going; they do not know exactly what
they are looking for or how to recognize it. A brief examination of
three Gail quests, two unsuccessful and one successful, will illustrate
the need for guides and how this need is supplied. Perceval comes
closer than any other knight except Galahad to seeing the vision. His
search is initiated and directed by his aunt, Queen of the Waste Lands,
who relates Merlin's prophecies about the Round Table and Grail to him.
She tells him the way to the Castle of Gooth when he asks where to find
Galahad, and further directs him to the Castle of Carbonek where the
Maimed King is, should he fail to find Galahad. At Gooth Perceval
meets his second guide, unexplainably the Maimed King himself, who
appears as an old man with a gold crown, naked shoulders, and bleeding
wounds. He shares the Eucharist with Perceval and expands the Queen's
explanation of the legend to include Joseph of Aramathea's role. The old
man then disappears, leaving Perceval alone. He catches a glimpse of
Galahad, who flees, thus indicating Perceval's impurity, and has a
frightening dream of portending disaster. The third guide is quite

probably the Maimed King again: "an Olde man clothed in a surplyse,

35
in lyknes of a pryste" (II, iii, p. 914). After identifying himself as "of
a strange contrey [Heavegz and hydir I com to comforte you" (ll, iii,
p. 915), the old man reassures Perceval that he will escape the wilder-
ness, interprets his dream, and orders him to continue his search.
After wandering alone again he meets his fourth guide, a damsel who
serves only as a testing device. She tells him that the old man lied,
offers him food, and attempts to seduce him. Perceval nearly succumbs
to all three temptations, indicating his spiritual deficiency, but recovers
enough to feel shame at his weakness and to wound himself in disgust.
At this low point, with Perceval about to abandon the quest, the old man
again appears, chides him, explains that the damsel was a temptress
sent by Satan, and sends him on his journey again.

The version of Perceval found in Chre’tien's Conte del Graal is

 

similar but fuller in its archetypal elements. His first guide is not

his aunt but his mother, who directs his early adventures and sends

him to the castle of the maimed Fisher King. Here Perceval faces
tests with the sword of peril, lance of blood, ten-branched candlestick,
and Grail. His second guide in this version is a damsel at the castle

- who explains the Fisher King's wounds and berates Perceval for failing
the test of the Perilous Sword. She follows him back to court in another
shape, that of the hideous hag, and again chides him for his failure.

His third guide is the old man, now his uncle, who grants him absolution

after five years of undirected wandering.20

 

20 James Douglas Bruce, Evolution of Arthurian Romance
(Baltimore, Md., 1928), pp. 219 ff.

 

36

Launcelot's quest is less personally successful than Perceval's
because he is unable to maintain repentance for his sin of loving Guinevere.
He finds the Chapel Perilous by himself but is unable to enter; in despair
he falls asleep to dream of a wounded knight who is granted entrance to
the Chapel and a vision of the Grail. Baffled by this vicarious revelation
and unsure whether he actually was asleep, Launcelot withdraws from
the holy place by order of a heavenly voice. He now needs a guide to
interpret the dream and to direct him further, and one appears in the
form of a hermit on his way to mass. He chides Launcelot for his
ingratitude for God's gifts, confesses him, and advises him to abandon
the Queen's company. Good-intentioned Launcelot promises obedience
and thus is able to enter the Chapel where he sees a dead man in a
white hair shirt. This sight is explained by the devil, who has been
conjured by the hermit. Launcelot again is warned that he will be
prevented by his sin from seeing the Grail. In response to his request
for counsel the hermit tells Launcelot to put on the hair shirt, take no
meat or wine while in quest, hear mass daily, and continue his journey.
He wanders without direction for some time: "I wote nat whother I
ryde but as fortune ledith me" (11, iv, p. 928). After another divine
vision and several combats the hermit reappears to tell Launcelot that
Galahad is his son and that he should announce the fact. Several battles
later the hermit again appears, this time to chide Launcelot for falling
asleep and losing sight of his ultimate goal. His quest ends at the chapel

where a lady interprets the forces of good and evil which he has fought

37
and condemns him for pride and earthly vainglory.

Galahad's quest, in contrast to the two above, is less detailed
and requires fewer external guides, apparently because his success is
guaranteed if he resists temptation. Accompanied by an old man in
white, Galahad has occupied the Seat Perilous and extracted the sword
in stone; he "wyste hat from whens he com but all only be God" (II, i, p. 861).
Thus aware of his divine calling, he needs little other than God's direction,
which he already possesses by reason of his generation from Joseph of
Aramathea's line. An old monk, Launcelot's hermit figure, explains
the maimed king to him and, after the Grail vision, leads him to his
tomb, but Galahad finds the Castle Perilous, restores the Maimed King
who guards the Grail, and sees the vessel without guidance.

In these three quests one finds recurring types of secondary guides,
the hermit, the churl, and the damsel. All appear in various roles.

The hermit is a divine representative, usually aged, removed from the
mundane world perhaps in the guise of a religious man. His function

to the hero is primarily spiritual; he interprets revelations, confesses
him, chides his backslidings, advises repentance, and grants absolution.
The churl, traditionally Porter of the Other World,21 serves a more
physical function. Appearing as a dwarf, waning knight, hospitable

host, enchanted beast, or ax-wielder, he can direct the quester through
the wasteland to the Castle Perilous, Chapel Perilous, or Other World.

The damsel is, of course, the Goddess in Triad and her main role is to

 

21 Loomis, pp. 105 ff.

38
provide distraction and temptation. She may be figured as a hideous
hag, a lady clothed in white, a seductress, or the quester's relative,
but in all her forms she is the Grail Messenger or Bearer. If the hero
resists her temptations and follows her advice, she is able to give him
the information he needs, whether of his heritage, his dreams, or the
Grail itself. This guide also contains aspects of the seasonal myth in
her connection with the Other World and thus unites in her person the
Grail's meaning as Christian relic and fertility symbol.

These guides in the Grail quest, then, are secondary figures, who
intervene to aid unsuited or degenerate knights in their spiritual regenera-
tion. The single successful quester, Galahad, is God-appointed, God-
directed, and God- protected; he thus has less need for temporal assistance
than the undelegated knights. King Arthur, however, has no such clearly
defined and sanctioned goal; his quest is for lifelong public and private
salvation, and he thus needs a constant guide to measure, to clarify,
his progress. Merlin fills this function, giving Arthur the tools to
continue his journey after Merlin's initiation.

Created primarily by Geoffrey of Monmouth, Merlin was a boy
without a father, the fairy child of mysterious origin who becomes a
mysterious and somewhat mad prophet. In Robert de Boron's twelfth-
century version, Merlin is made over into Uther's magician, and
Arthur's ward and protector. 22 He thus has both pagan and Christian

elements, embodying the wildman or satyr motif through his origins

 

22 Bruce, p. 132.

39
and the divine intercessor through the interpretive tasks he performs.
Arthur's life is of course much too long to review and such a review
would serve no purpose here; our concern, rather, is with the functions
Merlin serves and with his suitability as a guide. First the advisor and
confidant of Uther, Merlin directs Arthur from his begetting. He in
fact orders that begetting, advising Uther to lie with Igrayne and dis-
guising him to accomplish it. After Arthur's birth he names the infant
and entrusts his upbringing to Sir Ector until such time as Uther's death
should require Arthur's appearance and leave Merlin free to direct his
course.

Merlin's qualification for this charge apparently is half- pagan
and half-Christian; some of his duties are accomplished through magical
means, some through divine appointment. The Christian sanction
apparently has ascendency; when Uther falls ill, Merlin answers the
nobles' pleas to restore him with: "There nys none other remedye . . ,
but God wil have His wille. But loke ye a1 barons be bifore kynge Uther
to-morne, and God and I shalle make hym to speke" (I, i, p. 11).
Through his prophetic foresight, his magical powers, and his moral
merit Merlin is able to guide and protect Arthur in a variety of situations.
He first initiates Arthur to his heritage and the nature of his life's
journey, making clear to Arthur how singular his talents and how great
his responsibility to cultivate them.

In his protection of Arthur and his men, that is, in his public role,

Merlin performs many tasks. He is a "dreme-reder, " interpreting

40

various visions of political portent. Since he moves "faster than any
mortal, " he serves as a messenger:"'I mervayle, '- said he [King Lot],
'how they com unto this contrey withoute wetynge of us all. ' 'Hit was by
Merlions advice,‘ seyde a knyght" (I, i, p. 32). He pops in and out of
knightly adventures, revealing beautiful damsels as evil, ugly dwarfs
as good. And, in his public role, he approves Arthur's choice of
Guinevere, warns him of the impending rivalry with Launcelot, and judges
the worthiness of those knights who aspire to the Round Table.

Concordant with these public duties is Merlin's private responsi-
bility to Arthur; as he helps Arthur to guide his followers well, he also
helps him to reach a higher level of personal maturity. Arthur's progress
in this individual quest is directly measurable by the amount of guidance
which he requires from Merlin; the more interpretation and correction
by his mentor, the less self-sufficient is Arthur. During the early
years Merlin supplies almost continuous companionship and directs
Arthur's every action. He leads him to Excalibur, instructs him how
to remove it from the stone, explains the legend, and tells Arthur the
method and time to use the potent sword. He chides Arthur for over-
enthusiasm in killing, tells him that his martial failure is God's punish-
ment, commands him to rest and reward his knights, and prophesies
a turn in God's anger.

As Arthur matures Merlin allows him greater freedom of decision;
his lapses in maturity thus are apparent by Merlin's reappearance and

by Arthur's ability to recognize his tutor and heed his advice. When

41
Merlin appears in disguise to Arthur on one occasion the king contemp-
tuously calls hima churl; Sir Ulphuns and Sir Brastias, however,
recognize him (I, i, p. 38). At another time Merlin looks "lyke a
chylde of fourtene yere of ayge" and Arthur accordingly disregards
his very sound instruction. Merlin finally has to reveal himself directly
and forcefully:

That flrthur's confusing dreanfl know I well . . . as

well as thy selff, and of all thy thoughtes. But thou

arte a foole to take thought for hit that woll nat amende

the. Also I know what thou arte, and who was thy fadir,

and of whom thou were begotyn: for kynge Uther was

thy fadir and begate the on Igrayne.

(I, i, p- 43)
Later Arthur feels confident enough to praise himself as Merlin's
protector but Merlin quickly clarifies Arthur's presumption:

"A, Merlion!" seyde Arthur, "here haddist thou be

slayne for all thy crafftis, had nat I bene. "

"Nay," seyde Merlyon, "nat so, for I cowde a saved

myselffe and I had wolde. But thou arte more nere

thy deth thanI am, for thou goste to thy dethe warde

and God be not thy frende. "

( 1, ii, p. 49)

As Merlin nears his doom his role becomes more prOphetic and
preventative, for he must give Arthur the tools with which to continue
alone. He helps the king to retrieve the sword and scabbard guarded
by the Lady of the Lake, implying that Arthur can look to her for help
after Merlin dies. He warns Arthur that his love of the embellished

sword is "unwyse"; the unadorned scabbard is of greater value because

42
it prevents blood loss. He foretells Arthur's own doom by warning him
of the Launcelot-Guinevere intrigue and of his future assassin's May
Day birth date. Finally, he surrounds Arthur with the most loyal men
he can find, the knights of the Round Table.

Merlin's death signifies not that Arthur has achieved perfection
but only that he has reached a spiritual level which he himself can
maintain should he choose to do so. Salvation, after all, eventually
depends on a combination of personal commitment and integrity with
divine grace. During his formative years Arthur learned from and
depended on his tutor: "But well Arthur overcom hem [foeg7 all: the
moste party dayes of hys lyff he was ruled by the counceile of
Merlyon" (1, iii, p. 97). His task done, himself undone, Merlin
leaves Arthur, answering his plea for further guidance with, "Nay . . ,
hit woll not be" (1, iii, p. 125).

In these Arthurian legends one thus finds two types of guide
figure: secondary guides, such as hermits, damsels, dwarfs; and
a primary guide, Merlin. The secondary guides are supplementary
sources of information for the narrative, interpreting a particular
event, directing the quester to a specific locale, rescuing a knight
from a single misstep. They do not provide constant companionship
for the hero or structural continuity for the narrative. That continuity,
when it occurs, is provided by the quest itself and the hero's single-
minded pursuit of his goal. In this sense one could almost call the

Grail itself a guide, for it serves as a provider, a talisman, a measure

43
of spiritual achievement, and a testing device. Merlin, however, does
assist narrative continuity and thematic interpretation; his frequent
presence and his measure of Arthur's development help to hold together
and clarify the king's many-faceted quest. He thus is a guide to the

reader as well as to the hero.

Medieval Examples of the Guide Convention

 

The preceding three groups of material, classical myth, the
Bible, and Arthurian legend, have been examined to determine the
frequency with which guide figures appear and the sc0pe of their abilities
and functions. In light of this fertile and diversified background, our
next task is to consider specific works by individual authors, to trace
the development of the guide figure, to evaluate which formerly established
aspects seem useful and which irrelevant to the particular work.

The usual situation in these works of literature which calls for a
guide figure is the dream or vision, a dream which involves some quest
to be made or goal to be attained. Because of the strangeness of the
dream territory or the dreamer's limited abilities, a guide figure is
necessary both to aid the dreamer and to provide necessary explication
of the dreamland to the reader. Apart from the narrative and thematic
functions already suggested, the guide exists as an artistic creation
in his own right, either in an allegorical mode or as a mimetic character.
He may personify a particular virtue or institution, as does Holicherche

in Piers Plowman; figure an abstraction through an historical personage,

44

as does Virgil in The Divine Comedy; or participate dynamically, as

 

does Harry Bailly in The Canterbury Tales. In other words, the guide

 

figure may be as fully developed as the author's powers and intentions
dictate, and the guide indeed does range from the statically symbolic to
the dramatically complex.

One of the more static and symbolic guides is the figure of the

23

pearl maiden in The Pearl, a dream vision concerned with the dreamer's

 

salvation. She represents a state of mind and soul, an elevated level
sought by the dreamer. Exhausted by grief and worry, the jeweler-
dreamer enters his garden, an introductory symbol of the dream world.
He swoons, and as his spirit ascends he sees the stream which separates
the real world from the spiritual. Initially, then, he needs a guide to
explain this dream world's meaning and to help him find his lost pearl.
The radiant pearl maiden appears to serve these functions, as well as

to point out the spiritual deficiencies of which he is unaware. Chosen

as a guide because of her temporal relation to the dreamer and her
pristine spiritual state, Pearl is motivated to save his soul and give

him peace, to help him find the way. She chides him for attending to

the mundane; taunts him ; advises him; explains the nature of salvation,
grace, and New Jerusalem; and actually effects his spiritual regenera-
tion. Her literary functions aside from gleaming imagery, are primarily

thematic, for she is an embodiment of purity and an interpreter of

 

23 Pearl and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, ed. A. c. Cawley
(New York, 1962).

45
scripture for the medieval poet.

Like Merlin, the pearl maiden measures the dreamer's progress
through the amount of guidance and correction she must extend. Initially
his understanding is solely temporal; he assumes the maiden will remain
with him because his grief is great, thinks it unfair she has gained grace
so early with such slight effort, and views her role as Christ's bride in
competitive courtly terms. Eventually he gains some understanding,
evidenced by his editing of his own questions and his meek acceptance of
her answers. This elevated level is signified by the maiden's offer to
guide him within sight of New Jerusalem, but his failure to reach spiritual
perfection is made equally clear by his attempt to cross the stream and
the vision's consequent end. The jeweler then measures his own progress
as he realizes how quickly rapture fades and how, had he maintained a
true intent, he would have been able to cross the stream. His quest
has been successful, insofar as any mortal can approach the godhead
before his appointed time, and the dreamer shows his gratitude and
awareness by dedicating his intercessor, the pearl maiden, to God.

Three of Geoffrey Chaucer's poems, The Parliament of Fowls,
24

 

The House of Fame, and The Canterbury Tales, contain a guide

 

 

figure; in the first two he appears within a dream vision. These guides
are either human or animal, but hold no symbolic spiritual or philosophi-

cal meaning; that is, they are not figurative. Rather than only pointing

 

24 Geoffrey Chaucer, The Works of Geoffrey Chaucer, ed. Fred N.
Robinson (Cambridge, 1957).

 

3!

46
out a moral or spiritual lesson to the dreamer, they function as narrators
and individual characters in the poems, thus playing a more literary
than didactic role.

Proprietor of the Tabard Inn in Southwark, Harry Bailly's qualifi-
cations as a guide are somewhat less than divine: he sets a fine table;
suggests an entertaining scheme; and, most important for a guide, knows
the route to Canterbury, hardly a necessary attribute with the worldly
Wife of Bath in company. But Bailly is in the trade and thus can make
deals for the pilgrims' lodgings and food, an ability the Wife of Bath
does not possess. Not a guide primarily in a geographical or physical
sense, then, Harry Bailly instead functions as a literary guide or critic,
albeit an undependable one. He maintains the pace of the poem, arbitrating,
evaluating, criticizing, and editing. He cuts Off the Reeve's "sermonyng, "
quiets a" quarrel between the Summoner and Friar, asks the Clerk to
"speketh so pleyn at this tyme, we yow preye, / That we may understonde
what ye seye" and the Nun's Priest for "rude Speche and boold, " and
chides Chaucer the pilgrim for his doggerel. As the poem progresses,
he becomes as mimetic a character as any in the group with his protruding
eyes, shrewish wife, broad humor, and swift judgments. Harry Bailly,
then, is Chaucer's guide, for he holds the tales together, provides a
structural framework, a unifying device.

In The House of Fame the dreamer is directed by an animal guide,

 

who provides transportation as well as instruction. The golden eagle,

a fully developed guide figure, gives the dreamer a moral lesson and

47
advice on a proper way of life. This guide has many qualifications for
his role, both through experience and authority. Sent by Jupiter to
protect the dreamer from false revelations, to reveal a practical know-
ledge of love, and to reward him for his service to love, the eagle
certainly is divinely commissioned. He also is one who knows, not
only the geography of the House of Fame but the theory of sound, the
Zodiac, and airy beasts. He thus is the narrator, explicator, and
commentator of the poem.

Moreover, the golden eagle is a character, and in his relationship
with the dreamer, the means by which the characterization is developed,
one can see certain elements of the guide convention. He instructs
Geoffrey, telling him where and at what to look, answering his questions,
philosophizing about natural dwelling places, moralizing about responsi-
bility. With a more supernatural power he reads Geoffrey's thoughts
and mysteriously whisks him into the House of Rumor. He chides him
for his fear of being turned into a star or being dead and then comforts
him. Finally, he teases the dreamer about his weight and lewdness
and solicitously inquires after his health. The golden eagle thus per-
forms a dramatic as well as narrative function.

Africanus the Younger, guide in the introduction to The Parliament

 

of Fowls, is much less active, but fills a very practical need for the
author. He takes the dreamer to his unknown, uncharted destination
in the land of dreams and thus contributes to a realism of sorts.

Rewarding the dreamer for his faithful reading, Africanus, like the

48
eagle, comforts, chides, physically carries, and teases susceptible
Geoffrey.

Chaucer thus bends the guide figure to his imaginative and his
narrative needs. When he requires coherency, the guide unifies; when
he requires explication, the guide figure explains; when he requires
character development, the guide figure develops character. In '_I'_h_e

Divine Comedy25 Dante makes an equally skillful and versatile use of

 

his guide figures, but where Chaucer uses a single, primary guide
throughout a poem, Dante uses a guide series, each leading to a higher
level of Spiritual development.

The first guide, Virgil, is a figuration of pagan moral perfection;
he comes to stand for the ultimate achievements of his spiritually
unenlightened age. Sent by divine authority, Beatrice, to guide Dante
the pilgrim, he is qualified not only by the exemplary life he led but
by his poetical gifts. First, Virgil serves as a physical guide, for he
knows the terrain of Hell; in this capacity he physically carries, leads,
and defends Dante over the crags, up the steps, and away from the
demons. As a resident of Limbo, Virgil also explains its etiquette to
Dante: whom he should meet, what he should notice. He controls whom,
why, and how much Dante may see and question. He sets the pace.

Second, Virgil is a spiritual and intellectual guide, as he explains,

interprets, and sermonizes. Dante's ignorance of the lintel of Hell, the

 

25 Dante Alighieri, La Divina Commedia, ed. H. Oelsner, trans.
J .A. Carlyle, Thomas Okey, P.H. Wicksteed (London, 1933).

 

49
Harrowing, the hierarchy of sins, the hemispheres, the nature of prayer
and love is at least partially erased by Virgil's knowledge.

The most important aspect of Virgil's guidance, however, is the
figure of Virgil himself, for he serves as a standard against which to
measure Dante's regeneration. Virgil's changing attitude toward the
dreamer symbolizes the spiritual progress which runs concurrently
with the physical. Initially, Virgil suggests, Dante is not fit for the
journey and he chides his impatience to proceed. He criticizes his
lack of precision in speech, as a superior poet to an inferior; suggests
that he has forgotten his philosophy; and warns him against misdirected
pity. When Virgil later approves Dante's attack on Pope Nicholas III
or his request to speak to Ulysses, a regenerative step has been made.
The growing reciprocity of their relationship also indicates Dante's
progress; he urged Virgil to be quiet so he can hear where Cianfa lingers
and suggests asking directions when they are lost. As Dante grows more
spiritual, Virgil grows more human in his reverence for Statius, his
physical exhaustion, and his embarrassment at Cato's scolding them for
lingering to hear Casella.

As Dante himself says, Virgil is his master, leader, lord, father,
herdsman, and teacher, a very inclusive guide figure. In artistic terms
he functions as an explicator, an interpreter, and, especially, a standard
of the moral perfection for which Dante the pilgrim strives. To some
extent, he also is a character, insofar as the author reveals a pagan's

activities in Purgatory and Limbo, his reactions, and his deficiencies.

50
But Virgil's qualifications are not sufficient to accompany Dante through-
out his quest. His pagan origins, his geographical restrictions, limit
his usefulness. As he says to the souls who have newly arrived on the
shore of Purgatory, "Ye think perchance that we have experience of this

place, but we are strangers even as ye are" (Purgatorio, II, 1. 63),

 

and thus he must convey Dante to someone familiar with the new
physical and spiritual area.

Although Virgil accompanies Dante through Purgatory and acts
as his protector, both need auxiliary guides for the unfamiliar terrain.
These the poet supplies through a guide series, with one figure directing
them through his locale and then passing them on to the next figure.
Cato, Sordello, Statius, and Matilda are the major characters in this
series, with such figures as Lucy, Humbert Aldobrandesco, and the
angels of the cornices supplimenting their direction for a short distance.
Thus Virgil's function is divided in Purgatory; he remains Dante's
ethical guide and emotional comforter, but relinquishes his geographical
guidance to more knowledgeable figures.

The first figure to assist Virgil and Dante in Purgatory is Cato,
who guards the approach to Mount Purgatory. He tells Virgil to clean
the grime from Dante's face and permits them to proceed. The second
figure in this guide series is Sordello, who forbids them to climb the
mountain by night and leads them to the Valley of the Rulers. Next,
Lucy physically carries Dante to the gate of Purgatory, with Virgil

following behind. Statius then takes over, accompanying them through

51
the Pass of Pardon. Virgil has reached his limits at this point, and
he disappears, leaving Dante in Statius' care. Matilda, handmaiden
of Beatrice, becomes Dante's guide through the earthly paradise, and
after purifying his soul she relinquishes him to Beatrice herself, in
whom the physical and Spiritual functions of the guide again coalesce.

Beatrice, the second primary guide figure in The Divine Comedy,

 

initially appears in the character of a courtly lady but almost immediately
becomes a figuration, an abstraction, of divine purity. She serves many
of Virgil's physi cal functions to the dreamer as she leads and comforts
him, but her spiritual function is far more refined. Since she is nearer
to divine authority, her theology more closely approximates the Word of
God. She, like Virgil, tests the dreamer's religious concepts and
beliefs, but she also serves as an intercessor, a gradual accomodation
to God, as Virgil served to her. Beatrice's literary function is narrative,
thematic, and stylistic; she also of course explicates and interprets the
dreamer's observations, she justifies the ways of God to man, and she
is the radiant image of the Paradiso, thus providing a stylistic as well
as spiritual contrast to the other two books.

The final guide figure, Saint Bernard, functions almost solely as
a technical device, in that he interprets the Rose to the dreamer and
reader and allows Beatrice to leave her role as guide without abandoning
the graceless Dante. As in the Grail quests, the vision of the symbol
of the godhead--the Grail for Galahad, Beatrice for Dante--signifies

that the hero has reached his goal, has achieved the salvation he

52

sought. In The Divine Comedy, then, the guide figures Operate primarily

 

as exemplary spiritual states which man should imitate, as standards

of thought and action.

The preceding works have been examined to two purposes: first,
to determine certain common technical and thematic characteristics of
the guide convention; and, second, simply to observe the variety of ways
in which a guide figure can be altered to suit the author's intentions and
talents. Basic among these common criteria are the conjunction of
guide figure and dream vision; the guide's special knowledge which allows
him to explain and interpret; the gradual progress of the dreamer toward
his goal by means of the guide's assistance; and the consistent use of

a single guide or guide series throughout a work.

CHAPTER II

STRUCTURAL UNITY IN THE FAERIE QUEENE, BOOKS I AND II

 

We have established in the preceding chapter certain criteria,

common characteristics and functions, of the guide figure. The Faerie

 

Qdde_n<_e, Edmund Spenser's sixteenth- century narrative poem, is a
classical example of the working out of these criteria. Moreover, the
poem furnishes a structural model of the educative quest for many
succeeding authors.

In the prefatory letter to Sir Walter Raleigh, Spenser defines his

aim in The Faerie Queene as being "to fashion a gentleman or noble

 

person in vertuous and gentle discipline. "1 To this end he prOposes a
romance narrative of twelve books, centered around Prince Arthur as
the epitome of manly virtue and illustrating, through various patron
knights, a desirable moral characteristic in each book. The hub of this
vast scheme is the Faerie Queene's, Gloriana's, court, from which the
knights embark on their adventures in proof and test of the virtues they

represent. From this brief outline it is apparent that the work Operates

 

1 Citations from Spenser in my text are to Eggtical Works, ed.
J .C. Smith and E. De Selincourt (London, 1912). The above reference
is from the "Letter to Raleigh, " p. 407.

 

53

54
on at least three levels: social or ethical, seen in the courtly frame—
work; spiritual or moral, seen in the Christian questing pattern; and
historical or national, seen in the Gloriana-Elizabeth I parallels and
the Arthurian context.

Spenser's method in this "continued Allegory, or darke conceit"
is literary rather than homiletic. He defends his moral lessons being
"thus clowdily enwrapped in Allegoricall devises" on Aristotelian
grounds: his work "shoulde be most plausible and pleasing, being
coloured with an historicall fiction, the which the most part of men
delight to read, rather for variety of matter, then for profite of the
ensample" ("Letter to Raleigh, " p. 407). Spenser's acknowledgment
of the cloudy nature of allegory suggests that he is not oblivious to the
interpretive difficulties his readers face. He also is alive to his own
problem of structuring a poetic narrative, explaining to Raleigh that

an Historiographer discourseth of affayres orderly as they

were donne, accounting as well the times as the actions,

but a Poet thrusteth into the middest, even where it most

concerneth him, and there recoursing to the thinges fore-

paste, and divining of thinges to come, maketh a pleasing
Analysis of all. (p. 408)

The "variety of matter" in The Faerie Queens, however, seems to

 

have obscured Spenser's "pleasing Analysis of all, " the narrative structure
which unites the dense and rich fabric of episodes, personages, and

levels of meaning. Considerable critical attention has been devoted to

the poem's structure, but the studies tend to focus on consistent themes

and motifs rather than on specific methods and devices.

55
Graham Hough assesses the structural criticism quite accurately
when he notes, "It is easy to get bogged down in speculative quagmires

and tangled in irrelevant learned briar patches . . . The Faerie Queene
"2

 

has been judged very harshly from the structural point of view.

Hough himself explains The Faerie Queene's perhaps frustrating (to a

 

twentieth- century reader) diversity by the very nature of romantic epic,
which slips from different tones and levels: politics to religious devotion;
history to allegory; geographical particularity to wild fantasy; human
moral action to pure enchantment. 3 Roger Sale, representative of another
and perhaps more prevalent point of view, is less tolerant of the poem's
fabric:

On and on it goes, battles, castles, streams, and

tapestries, with never more than a slight break in

the monotonous evenness of the tone. There is no

consistency to the narrative, no coherent fictional

world, and little in the way of causal connections
between episodes. 4

But merely recognizing that The Faerie Queene has no tidy,

 

linear structure, that Spenser's Scheme in his "Letter to Raleigh"

is not totally compatible with the actual product, does not explain

 

2 Graham Hough, A Preface to The Faerie Queene (New York,
1963), pp. 82, 83.

 

3 Hough, p. 14.

4 Roger Sale, Reading Spenser: An Introduction to The Faerie
Queene (New York, 1968), p. 28.

 

56

what structural unity the poem does possess. Obviously The Faerie

 

M must hold some internal consistency; were this consistency not
present, critics long ago would have abandoned the poem as an incoherent
fairy tale, reserving their "Speculative quagmires" for a work they

could penetrate.

Least Specific and, perhaps, least useful for structural evaluation
is Douglas Bush's contention that "the allegorical method, with all its
apparently wild system of correspondences on different planes, grows
out of . . . the conviction of the unity of God and man, of all things in
heaven and earth. "5 Applicable certainly to Spenser's mind and themes,
the statement cannot help us to find the methods by which these different

planes and levels are resolved in The Faerie Queene. C. S. Lewis

 

suggests, more concretely, Spenser's technique of opposing polarities:
"Like Life and Death, or Light and Darkness, the opposition of natural
and artificial, naive and sophisticated, genuine and spurious, meets us
at every turn."6 Hough, too, offers several specific devices: the figure
of Arthur, "clearly an attempt to impose unity of hero on the multiple
scheme"; the "equable, even- paced narration, " mood, and tone of the
six books; the "unity of atmOSphere" or sense "of being in a varied but

consistent world"; and the pervasive dream-organization which provides,

 

5 Douglas Bush, The Renaissance and English Humanism (Toronto,
1939), pp. 44-45.

 

6 0.8. Lewis, TherAllegory of Love: A Study inMedieval
Tradition (New York, 1958), p. 328.

 

57

Hough contends,

the emancipation from time and space, the solutions
of narrative continuity, the neglect to explain what is
actually presented. . . . It is the animating spirit of
the poem that conditions its shape; and that has little
to do with the formal scheme. 7

That formal scheme, however, is unified in Books I and II
by one structural motif thus far overlooked in critical opinion:
Spenser's use of the guide figure, a device which helps to hold
the diverse episodes together, to organize the narrative level,
and to clarify the figurative level. My discussion of Spenser's
guide figures will be limited to Books I and II because the poet
uses other methods to organize Books III, IV, V, and VI. As

Williams notes,

the first two books are self- contained units. In them a
steel frame of theme supports the narrative. Book III
abandons the one-line thematic development, and the
narrative structure almost collapses. It takes about
half of Book IV to straighten up all the lines of narrative
left tangled at the end. Book V is substantially a return
to the method of the first two, a one book unit with the
narrative line firmly controlled by thematic purposes.
But Book VI solves the problem of how to write a book
which, while composing a unit, still is continuous in the
sense that it sets up narrative lines for future exploita-
tion . . , makli'ng7 the quest of the champion a frame
which encloses the many-branching lines of the middle
section.

 

7 Hough, p. 98.

8 Arnold Williams, Flower on a Lowly Stalk: The Sixth Book of

 

the Faerie Queene (East Lansing, Mich. , 1967), pp. 728— 129.

 

58

Guide figures occasionally appear in the last four books, but
structural unity does not depend on their presence as it does in Books
I and II. In each of these two books the guides function to clarify and
define what Hough calls the protean, dream-like quality of the narrative.
They provide the conflict, tension, pace, and potential resolution of
the plot; supply a standard for the quest and quester; and guide the
hero's development and progress by the methods outlined in Chapter I.

Since Book II, at least in its literal aspects, adheres more
orthodoxly to the criteria for a guide figure established by Gilgamesh,
I will discuss it first. Book II also has the advantage of being

simpler in structure, for we follow Guyon's adventures

almost all the time, while in Book I the interest is divided

between Redcross and Una. Book II is simpler in thematic

content too; necessarily so, for it does not deal with the

mysteries of faith, but with moral discipline and moral

action-~neither quid credas nor (mo tendas, but quid agas.

The scene of action is always the world, the temptations

are those of ordinary earthly experience, and the means

by which they are overcome are not revelation and grace
but reason and self- command. 9

 

 

Guyon, patron knight of Book 11, figures moral temperance,
and the second book thus is an illustration of and search for perfec-
tion of that virtue. Some discrepancy exists between Spenser's
initiation of the quest as proposed to Raleigh and the actual structure
of Book II. In the "Letter" Spenser says that a palmer comes to

Gloriana's court, bearing "an infant with bloody hands, " to request

 

9 Hough, p. 154.

59

redress for grievances. Guyon, already tested and experienced in
moral combat, is assigned to the task, and the two leave together. In
the book itself, however, the discovery of the bloody babe by Guyon and
the Palmer and their consequent decision to avenge his parents' death
triggers the quest for Acrasia. But to defeat this mOral adversary is
the anticipated culmination, not the assured outcome, of the plot, and
Guyon first must test his virtue against other foes. Thus the structure
of Book II "is shaped by Spenser's idea of the psychological development
of the human character striving after moral control."lo Although Guyon
stands for temperance, he is by no means perfected in that virtue at
the start of the quest. The first series of tests he faces is the tempta-
tion to excessive anger and malignity, which he successfully overcomes.
The second series is temptation to sensual pleasure; although he has
more difficulty here maintaining the golden mean, eventually balance is
restored and he is proved fit to face and defeat his final adversary.

Since our concern here is with the development of structural unity
through the use of guide figures, a cumulative process, we will follow
Spenser's chronology in tracing the plot. Spenser first establishes
Guyon as a suitable hero, one capable of overcoming the temptations
he will face. He is comely, of upright carriage, demure and temperate
countenance, noble birth, skilled in combat, and sanctioned by Gloriana.
But, as the champion of Temperance, Guyon has certain limitations

as well: he is susceptible to moral excess or defect, constantly walks

 

10 Selincourt, p. xliv.

60
a narrow plank between "too much" and "not enough"; and, because he
figures a mundane and ethical, rather than spiritual, virtue, has little
discriminatory insight into more elevated matters. Temperance can
maintain proper behavior, but it cannot uplift or educate itself; its
powers are sustentative, not additive.

Thus Guyon needs a guide for his quest, a guide who not only will
help him to maintain the golden mean under temptation but who will
supply the interpretive wisdom to educate him spiritually. This function
is served by the Palmer, who represents Right Reason:

Him alS accOmpanyd vpon the way

A comely Palmer, clad in blacke attire,

Of ripest yeares, and haires all hoarie gray,

That with a staffe his feeble steps did stire,

Least his long way his aged limbes should tire:

And if by lookes one may the mind aread,

He seemd to be a sage and sober sire,

And euer with slow pace the knight did lead,

Who taught his trampling steed with equall steps to tread.

(11. i. 7)
In making him a palmer, Spenser has qualified him as a guide; he has
been to Jerusalem and thus knows the way to Guyon's, or any questing
Christian's, ultimate goal. Further qualified by his age and wisdom,
the Palmer's slow, even pace symbolizes the temperate path down
which he will lead Guyon.

Spenser immediately presents Guyon's need for a guide, allowing

the reader no opportunity to interpret the knight as perfected or tested

virtueT Duessa, standing for doubleness or duplicity, appears as a

61

damsel in distress and wins the naive Guyon's sympathy:

The knight approching nigh, thus to her said,

Faire Ladie, through foule sorrow ill bedight,
Great pittie is to see you thus dismaid,

And marre the blossome of your beautie bright:

For thy appease your griefe and heauie plight,

And tell the cause of your conceiued paine.

For if he liue, that hath you doen despight.

He Shall you doe due recompence againe,

Or else his wrong with greater puissance maintaine.

(II, i, 14)
He then compounds his inability to distinguish false from true by
allowing Archimago, the diabolical sorcerer, to lead him to Red Cross,
whom he mistakenly blames for Duessa's misfortunes. Leaving the
Palmer behind, Guyon accepts a false guide, who "guides an vncouth
way/ Through woods and mountaines" (II, 1, 24).

Guyon and Red Cross are reconciled, each recognizing the other
through reason and staying his hand through temperance. The Palmer
then joins them and immediately identifies Red Cross, or Holiness, thus
illustrating his superior perception as contrasted to Guyon's. They
receive Red Cross' blessing to start their quest, and

Then Guyqd forward gan his voyage make,

With his blacke Palmer, that him guided still.

Still he him guided ouer dale and hill,

And with his steedie staffe did point his way:

His race with reason, and with words his will,

From foule intemperance he oft did stay,

And suffred not in wrath his hastie steps to stray.
(11. i, 34)

As Kellogg and Steele note, "It is thus clear that Sir Guyon is not an

62

allegorical representative of perfect temperance, but of the achievement
of temperance through right reason (the palmer). "11

The first adventure the Palmer and Guyon encounter actually
initiates the quest; through Mavia's account of her sorrows Guyon
learns of Acrasia and her Bower of Bliss and vows to destroy them as
threats to temperance. In this incident, too, the limits of temperance
are further delineated. Guyon is able to interpret correctly the effects

of excessive passion and draw a proper moral:

Then turning to his Palmer said, Old syre

Behold the image of mortalitie,

And feeble nature cloth'd with fleshly tyre,

When raging passion with fierce tyrannie

Robs reason of her due regalitie,

And makes it seruant to her basest part:

The strong it weakens with infirmitie,

And with bold furie armes the weakest hart;

The strong through pleasure soonest falles, the weake through smart.

But temperance (said he) with golden squire

Betwixt them both can measure out a meane,

Neither to melt in pleasures whot desire,

Nor fry in hartlesse griefe and dolefull teene.
(II, i, 57-58)

Without the Palmer's aid, however, Guyon is unable to comprehend the
spiritual symbolism of Ruddymane's bloody hands, mistakenly stressing
the stains themselves rather than the proper absolution. The Palmer
chides him "with goodly reason, and thus faire bespake":

Ye bene right hard amated, gratious Lord,

And of your ignorance great maruell make,

Whiles cause not well conceiued ye mistake.
I (H: ii: 5)

I

11 Edmund Spenser, Books I and II of The Faerie Queene, ed. Robert
Kellogg and Oliver Steele (New York, 1965), p. 238n.

 

 

63
and explains the difference between natural fountains and fountains of
grace through baptism, only the latter of which can remove the stain of
original sin. He advises Guyon to
striue you it to withstand,

But let them still be bloudy, as befell,
That they his mothers innocence may tell.

(II, ii, 10)
Guyon's response indicates a forward step on his spiritual journey:
"He hearkned to his reason, and the childe/ thaking, to the Palmer
gaue to beare" (H, ii, 11).
The next adventure of their quest, the visit to Medina's castle,

serves as an exemplum in terms of the book's structure, a synopsis

 

of what Guyon must encounter and conquer. Medina's quieting of the
quarrel between Sir Huddibras, Sansloy, and Guyon; her advocating
peace for its power to "nourish vertue" and breed "fast friendship, "
foreshadows and contrasts with Guyon's adventure with Phaedria and
Cymochles. Medina's castle, too, is a parallel to the House of Alma,
with the castle an emblem of the precarious virtue possible in the world
and the House of Alma an emblem of the internal harmony Guyon seeks.
In the Medina incident the Palmer does not function as a guide, Medina

instead directing and instructing Guyon within her own sphere. 12

 

12 One should note Spenser's explanation in this incident of how
Guyon and the Palmer became connected (H, ii, 43). This explanation
concurs with Spenser's plan in the "Letter to Raleigh, " the difference
being his apparent decision to start the second book in media res.

 

64
The next incident, the comic interlude of Braggadochio and
Trompart, is a useful parallel in terms of the guide convention, with
Archimago serving as the guide. Like the Palmer, he also instructs

his charges, albeit in evil undertakings:

fBut mote I wisely you aduise to doon;

Giue no ods to your foes, but do puruay

Your. selfe Of sword before that bloudy day:

For they be two the prowest knights on ground . , ,

Do arme your selfe against that day, them to confound.

(II, iii, 15)

Braggadochio is less appreciative of guidance than Guyon, and his

response contrasts his false courage with Guyon's true:

Dotard (said he) let be thy deepe aduise;
Seemes that through many yeares thy wits thee faile,
And that weake eld hath left thee nothing wise,
Else neuer should thy iudgement be so fraile,
To measure manhood by the sword or maile.
' (H, iii, 16)

Returning to the main plot line of Guyon and the Palmer, we find
Guyon involved in his first direct confrontation with the forces of intem-
perance, a confrontation which he does not escape unscathed. Immediately
before Guyon initiates the battle with Furor and Occasion Spenser
ironically stresses the role of

that blacke Palmer, his most trusty guide;

Who suffred not his wandring feet to slide.

But when strong passion, or weake fleshlinesse

Would from the right way seeke to draw him wide,

He would through temperance and stedfastnesse,

Teach him the weake to strengthen, and the strong suppre sse.
(H, iv, 2)

65
From a distance, however, Guyon sees a churl, later identified as Furor,
and an old hag, Occasion, abusing a "handsome stripling, " Phedon.
Apparently leaving the Palmer behind, the knight rushes toward them
and enters the fracas to avenge Phedon's defeat.

Guyon's first mistake is rushing into the quarrel, his second is
misinterpreting the relative danger offered by the two foes, and his third
is fighting on their terms at their level. Phedon, through his excessive
jealousy and wrath, has invited a deserved attack and defeat; had he
not outdistanced the Palmer, Guyon might have questioned his impulsive
desire to avenge the willful intemperance which Phedon represents. Once
in the quarrel, however, Guyon evidences the faulty apprehension he
Showed with Duessa and Archimago, perceiving Occasion as weak and
Furor as powerful. Thus attacking the wrong foe, he soon finds himself
reduced to Furor's undisciplined methods of combat. Outside the order
and relative moderation of courtly joust, Guyon "ouerthrew himselfe
vnwares, and lower lay" (H, iv, 8). Seeing both his life and virtue
endangered, the Palmer rescues him, first accurately characterizing
the foes and, second, correcting Guyon's method of combating them.

He tells the fallen knight that Occasion incites Furor and advises him to
restrain her. After locking her tongue and binding her hands, Guyon is
able to enchain Furor.

By following the Palmer's advice and re-establishing self- control
Guyon has overcome the first temptation to wrath. One here, however,

should be very cautious in determining the effect such backsliding has

66

had on the hero; his defeat of Furor and Occasion, his acceptance of
the Palmer's guidance, does not mean that he is blameless or escapes
undamaged for having entered an intemperate situation. Spenser
frequently does not spell out for the reader the consequences of error,
instead illustrating the effect through the hero's later disability or a
repetition of the same situation. This method is most clearly seen,
for example, in Book I where Red Cross apparently defeats Error. His
Sin, however, is his presumption and foolishness for initiating the
combat, as we see through the series of misfortunes and misperceptions
which follow Error's contaminating influence. Thus we as readers
need the guide figure, since the hero's ignorant evaluation often cannot
be trusted and Spenser's evaluation as narrator often comes much later
than the incident, if at all. 13

This procedure apparently is the case after Guyon's encounter
with Furor and Occasion, for whereas he interpreted events himself
before the incident, he now is silent, allowing the Palmer to do all
the interpretation. The Palmer comments on Phedon's story, stressing
the dangers of wrath, jealousy, grief, and intemperate love. When Atin

asks Guyon to seek Occasion for Pyrochles, the Palmer again answers,

 

13 The narrator, present in the didactic first- person initial stanza
of each canto, is distinct from the guide figures in The Faerie QueeneJ
although they share the same moral point of view. The narrator functions
externally to the plot, summarizing events which have occurred,
indicating what behavior should be followed, and foreshadowing events
to come. The guide operates internally, supplying an immediate
appraisal of events and behavior.

 

67

allowing Guyon only a faint voice of acquiescence:14

Madman (said then the Palmer) that does seeke
Occasion to wrath, and cause of strife;

She comes vnsought, and shonned followes eke.

Happy, who can abstaine, when Rancour rife

Kindles Reuenge, and threats his rusty knife;

Woe neuer wants, where euery cause is caught,

And rash Occasion makes vnquiet life.

Then loe, where bound she sits, whom thou hast sought,
(Said Guyon,) let that message to thy Lord be brought.

(11, iv, 44)

 

The Palmer's guidance in controlling wrath has been well—
absorbed, as Spenser shows, but other areas of Guyon's development,
such as judgment, still are not self- sustaining. He restrains himself

in the battle with Pyrochles,

But Guyon, in the heat of all his strife,

Was warie wise, and closely did awayt

Auauntage, whilest his foe did rage most rife,
(II. v, 9)

and does not allow the joy of victory to Shake his temperance:

Eftsoones his cruell hand Sir Guyon stayd,
Tempring the passion with aduizement slow,
And maistring might on enimy dismayd.

(H, v, 13)

 

14 Kellogg and Steele note that "Guyon defends himself against
neither Atin's nor Pyrochles' unjust accusation. By leaving his hero
inarticulate, Spenser increases the effect of frustration. He allows the
reader no release from the mounting shame, injustice, and anger, " p. 278“.
Kellogg and Steele thus see Guyon's Silence as justified in terms of Spenser's
characterization, as necessary to the creation of a complex character with
internal conflicts. This may well be true, but I rather interpret the
temporary silence as a just reward for error. The editors fail to note
that the Silence is not inclusive, that the Palmer is speaking for Guyon and
defending his behavior.

68
But at Pyrochles' request, Guyon frees Occasion and Furor, an act
neither approved nor condemned by the Palmer. Pyrochles, defeated
by Furor, begs Guyon's help, and at this point the Palmer does pass
judgment on Guyon's good-intentioned but undeserved pity:

The knight was greatly moued at his plaint,

And gan him dight to succour his distresse,

Till that the Palmer, by his graue restraint,

Him stayd from yielding pitifull redresse;

And said, Deare sonne, thy causelesse ruth represse,

Ne let thy stout hart melt in pitty vayne:

He that his sorrow sought through wilfulne sse,

And his foe fettred would release agayne,

Deserues to tast his follies fruit, repented payne.
( H, v, 24)
"Guyon obayd, " thus illustrating that he has learned not only his duty
to maintain self- control, but also that temperance has limits in
proferring aid to someone who has been intemperate.

The instruction in avoiding excessive wrath is ended with the
Pyrochles incident and Guyon acts with temperance in all future anger-
provoking situations. His remaining temptations are sensual, pleasure—
producing, and here too he must learn and practice moderation. The
first adventure is the trip in Phaedria's boat, an adventure which Guyon
himself initiates. The entire incident, in fact, is an excellent illustra-
tion of the secret consequences of error, consequences which extend
through the encounter with Mammon and finally are made visible
in Guyon's fainting. His initial error, of course, is succumbing to

Phaedria's temptation and leaping on her boat without asking advice

of the Palmer. The Palmer's role throughout the second book is to

69
lead, to precede, Guyon; Spenser stresses that Guyon follows the
Palmer's "slow pace, " and thus, since the Palmer is left standing on
the shore, we can only assume that Guyon has reversed the prOper
order to follow his desire. That Phaedria's Wandering Isle is a place

Guyon Should not go is evident by the Palmer's absence; Right Reason

has been left behind.

By this time was the worthy Guyon brought
Vnto the other side of that wi'de—SfFond,

Where she was rowing, and for passage sought:
Him needed not long call, she soone to hond
Her ferry brought, where him she byding fond,
With his sad guide; himselfe she tooke aboord,
But the Blacke Palmer suffred still to stond,
Ne wouldl'or price, or prayers once affoord,
To ferry that old man ouer the perlous foord.

 

Guyon was loath to leaue his guide behind,
Yet being entred, might not backe retyre.
(H, vi, 19-20)

, Totally absOrbed in his desire to get to the other side, Guyon has

neglected to inquire about the means, an oversight which suggests

intemperance. Once in Phaedria's power Guyon acts with moderation

and discretion:

The knight was courteous, and did not forbeare
Her hone st merth and pleasaunce to partake;

But when he saw her toy, and gibe, and geare,
And passe the bonds of modest merimake,

Her dalliance he despisd, and follies did forsake.

(11. Vi) 21)

But this behavior cannot absolve his original error, even though a few

stanzas later he has forgotten his own thoughtlessness in joining Phaedria

70
and instead is blaming her:

Ah Dame, perdie ye haue not doen me right,

Thus to mislead me, whiles I you obaid:

Me litle needed from my right way to haue straid.

(H, vi, 22)

Spenser then picks up the threads of two parallel situations he
initiated earlier, in Guyon's fight with Cymochles, representative of
excessive pleasure-seeking; and Archimago's guidance of and aid to
the wounded Pyrochles, representative of excessive choler. Phaedria,
corresponding to Medina, calms the quarrel between Cymochles and
Guyon, urging such energy be applied to pleasure rather than combat.
Guyon here apparently has lost control of his temper,

They though full bent

To proue extremities of bloudie fight,

Yet at her speach their rages gan relent,

And calme the sea of their tempestuous spight . . .

( 11, vi, 36)
but by the time he meets Atin he has remembered the Palmer's lesson
and "with strong reason maistred passion fraile, / And passed fairely
forth" (H, vi, 40). The interlude between Archimago and Pyrochles
only serves to remind the reader that Guyon has lost his guide and is
in severe danger without him. To this purpose, Spenser here treats
Archimago sympathetically, emphasizing his compassion over the fact
that he is restoring Pyrochles to evil ends.

Him when the old man saw, he wondred sore,
To see Pyrochles there so rudely rage:

 

71

Yet sithens helpe, he saw, he needed more
Then pittie, he in hast approched to the Shore. . . .

Which when as Archimago heard, his griefe

He knew right well, and him attonce disarmd:

Then searcht his secret wounds, and made a priefe

Of euery place, that was with brusing harmd,

Or with the hidden fire too inly warmd.

Which done, he balmes and herbes thereto applyde,

And euermore with mighty spels them charmd,

That in short space he has them qualifyde,

And him restor'd to health, that would haue algates dyde.
(H, vi, 48, 51)

 

That Guyon has been harmed by his error in entering Phaedria's
boat and that he needs the Palmer are evident throughout his encounter
with Mammon. Much critical dissension occurs on the interpretation of
this incident, starting with Guyon's self-praise:

So Guyon hauing lost his trusty guide,

Late left beyond that Ydle lake, proceedes

Yet on his way, of none accompanide;

And euermore himselfe with comfort feedes,

Of his owne vertues, and prayse-worthy deedes.

(H, vii, 2)
Kellogg and Steele note that "neither Phaedria nor Mammon could even
pose temptations to the man guided by right reason. Later he will need
the active support of both divine grace and right reason, but this adventure
tests solely his love of virtue and 'prOper pride' in his accomplishments. "15
The editors fail to observe that Guyon already has succumbed to tempta-

tion, or at least curiosity, by being in the situation without his Palmer.

Selincourt implies that Guyon has erred in going with Phaedria, noting

 

15 Kellogg and Steele, p. 300“.

72

that he is "seduced for a while by idle pleasures," but fails to see the
secret consequences of the misjudgment: "But Spenser clearly regards
his defection with sympathetic tolerance; and Sir Guyon suffers no great
hurt from his Short passage with irresponsible Mirth upon the Lake of
Idlenesse. "16 Hough also underestimates Guyon's error as he summar-
izes the Phaedria episode: "Guyon deserts his Palmer and is briefly t"-
distracted by her wiles. . . . Certainly Guyon gets off very lightly for
his brief holiday from the strict path of temperance. "17 Both critics,

although partially correct, apparently are deceived by the absence of i

 

narrator interpretation and intrusion. Spenser does not overtly condemn
Guyon, but he makes his need for the Palmer's guidance quite clear
in the following events. It is first difficult to accept Guyon's feeding
himself "with comfort . . . Of his owne vertues, and prayse-worthy
deedes" as appropriately temperate behavior; modesty and humility
certainly must form a large part of temperance, and Arthur, epitomizing
perfect temperance in this book, feels no such need for self— glorification.
Second, the entire episode with Mammon reveals Guyon's imperfect
state and need of the Palmer. Kellogg and Steele again measure this
episode by the obvious, stating that Guyon never was tempted since
Mammon's monster, Disdain, never struck him, but a careful reading

indicates that Guyon was indeed susceptible, at least to undue curiosity

 

16 Selincourt, p. xliv.

17 Hough, pp. 156, 159.

73
about, if not to actual possession of, wealth. Without the Palmer he
initially is unable to recognize Mammon:
What art thou man, (if man at all thou art)
That here in desert hast thine habitaunce,
And these rich heapes of wealth doe st hide apart
From the worldes eye, and from her right vsaunce?
(H, vii, 7)
This inability to identify evil contrasts with more than corresponds to
Satan's temptation of Christ in the wilderness, the scene usually
paralleled to Guyon's adventure. Christ shows no uncertainty about his
foe, directly addressing him with, "Get thee hence, Satan: for it is
written, Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou
serve. "18 Although Guyon resists the temptation to acquire Mammon's
riches, he is not above adopting Mammon as a temporary guide to fulfill
his curiosity, to answer his questions. Mammon thus replaces the
Palmer in this episode and becomes a secondary guide. He is not a
false guide in the literal sense; that is, he does not disguise himself or

19

his kingdom and, unlike Archimago, does not lead Guyon to a different

 

18 Matthew 4: 10, Authorized Version.

19 Guyon's picture of wealth is by no means unrelieved splendor.
An early stanza in the episode should curb his curiosity, but he instead
chooses to continue the tour.

In all that rowme was nothing to be seene,
But huge great yron chests and coffers strong . . ,
But all the ground with sculs was scattered,
And dead mens bones, which round about were flong,
Whose lines, it seemed, whilome there were Shed,
And their vile carcases now left vnburied.

(II, vii, 30)

74
destination than he expected. His information, of course, is biased
toward materialism, but the primary error is Guyon's for choosing to
enter Mammon's sphere. Guyon himself initiates the tour of the House
of Riches:

What secret place (quoth he) can safely hold

So huge a masse, and hide from heauens eye?

Or where hast thou thy wonne, that so much gold

Thou canst preserue from wrong and robbery?

Come thou (quoth he) and see. So by and by

Through that thicke couert he him led.

(II, vii, 20)

In acting as Guyon's host, Mammon serves many of the primary
functions of the guide figure. He leads Guyon physically and restrains
him from fighting the insubstantial Disdain: "Mammon did his hasty
hand withhold, / And counseld him abstaine from perilous fight" (II, vii,
41). As Kellogg and Steele note, "The force of Mammon's playing the
part of the palmer and pacifying Guyon with reason is ironic. "20

Like the Palmer, Mammon answers Guyon's questions, explaining
Philotime's rank and role. Guyon's answer to Mammon's offer of his
daughter's hand, however, is strangely subdued, and may indicate some
temptation on his part. His soft and chivalrous reply can be contrasted
with the Palmer's hearty condemnation of Phaedria later in the book.

To get Guyon out of Hell and the House of Riches finally requires

the combined torments of Tantalus and Pilate, who tell him of their

chmnation. But

 

2° Kellogg and Steele, p. 310“.

75
Ne Mammon would there let him long remaine,
For terrour of the tortures manifold,
In which the damned soules he did behold,
But roughly him bespake .
( H, vii, 63)
Spenser clearly indicates that Guyon has resisted actual temptation to

possession; without the Palmer he has not succumbed to sin and thus

possesses a tested, if somewhat tarnished, virtue.

All which he did, to doe him deadly fall

In frayle intemperance through sinfull bayt;

To which if he inclined had at all,

That dreadfull feend, which did behind him wayt,
Would him haue rent in thousand peeces strayt:
But he was warie wise in all his way,

And well perceiued his deceiptfull sleight,

Ne suffred lust his safetie to betray;

So goodly did beguile the Guyler of the pray.

(H, vii, 64)
Mammon then performs his final function as guide, in effect returning
Guyon to the Palmer.

One, however, cannot ignore the consequences of Guyon's
misjudgment in leaving the Palmer and pursuing his curiosity, for
Spenser makes these consequences abundantly clear. First, the
physical effects are great; the Palmer finds Guyon lying unconscious
"in trance." Second, to revive and restore him requires more power
than the Palmer, formerly adequate to the task, possesses. Heavenly
intervention, in the form of an angel, protects the fallen Guyon on his
return from the underworld and educates the Palmer to the events

which he has not shared:

76

Whom when the Palmer saw, abasht he was

Through fear and wonder, that he nought could say,

Till him the child bespoke, Long lackt, alas,

Hath bene thy faithfull aide in hard assay,

Whiles deadly fit thy pupill doth dismay;

Behold this heauie sight, thou reuerend Sire,

But dread of death and dolour doe away;

For life ere long shall to her home retire,

And he that breathlesse seeme s, shal corage bold respire.

The charge, which God doth vnto me arret,
Of his deare safetie, I to thee commend;
Yet will I not forgoe, ne yet forget
The care thereof my selfe vnto the end,
But euermore him succour, and defend
Against his foe and mine: watch thou I pray;
For euill is at hand him to offend.

(H, viii, 7-8)

 

After partially reviving Guyon, the Palmer then attempts to protect
him against Cymochles' and Pyrochles' attack but finds himself power-
less against the combined forces of excessive anger and excessive
pleasure. Arthur appears to intervene and thus temporarily takes over
as guide. He here represents not only the perfect knight but also a
spiritual force, a type of Christ, able to transcend the limitations of

the Palmer's and Guyon's ethical virtue. As a deus ex machina, Arthur

 

illustrates the need for a higher power in order to combat the demonic
threat which Mammon figures. His battle with Pyrochles and Cymochles
illustrates too the total process of temperate behavior; the episode
connects all of the various aspects of temperance, incorporates much

Of the Palmer's advice to Guyon, and shows the fallen knight the ultimate
product of internalizing his lessons. The Palmer first turns his charge

over to Arthur, temporarily suspending his own guidance in the face of

77
a greater power:
But you, faire Sir, whose honorable sight
Doth promise hope of helpe, and timely grace,
Mote I beseech to succour his sad plight,
And by your powre protect his feeble cace.
(H, viii, 25)
Arthur attempts to reason verbally with the two knights, and only when
this effort fails does he resort to force. In combat he properly resists
rage, knowing that "with patience and sufferaunce sly/ So hasty heat
soone cooled to subdew" (H, viii, 47). In victory he is merciful, but
does not, like Guyon, Shower foolish pity; he offers Pyrochles a chance
to repent and pledge homage, but when he refuses Arthur decapitates
him. We might note, too, that when Guyon is made aware of the battle
and offers his thanks to Arthur, the Prince modestly disclaims the
undertaking as only his "due in place. "
Following Guyon's restoration Spenser temporarily suspends the

guide hierarchy, to resume it at the Bower of Bliss episode. Arthur's

superiority gradually fades as he asks questions of Guyon and is reassured

in his own quest for Gloriana. The three journey together to the Castle
of Alma, where Alma becomes their mentor in a parallel to the earlier

Medina incident. This episode, however, is a culmination of their

adventures and progression: whereas the House of Medina was mundane,

ethical, the Castle of Alma is spiritual, philosophical; whereas the
House of Medina was in a precarious state of balance and constantly

threatened by internal dissension, the Castle of Alma is total internal

 

[‘10 -1 C

78
harmony but beseiged from without. Alma herself is the more elevated

figure as she shares in the Beatrice-Virgin- Pearl maiden archetype:

Alma she called was, a virgin bright . . .

For she was faire, as faire mote euer bee,

And in the flowre now of her freshest age;

Yet full of grace and goodly modestee,

That euen heauen reioyced her sweete face to see.

In robe of lilly white she was arayd,

That from her Shoulder to her heele down raught,

The traine whereof loose far behind her strayd,
Braunched with gold and pearle, most richly wrought,
And borne of two faire Damsels, which were taught
That seruice well. Her yellow golden heare

Was trimly wouen, and in tresses wrought,

Ne other tyre she on her head did weare,

But crowned with a garland of sweete Rosiere.

(H, ix, 18- 19)
Within her sphere she performs the standard functions of a guide: she
physically leads Arthur and Guyon, directs their observations, and
answers their questions.

At this point in the narrative Arthur and Guyon part to pursue
separate quests. In a long interlude Arthur defends the Castle of Alma
against the external force of Maleger, a Satanic figure, thus illustrating
that without the Christian resource the harmony of body and soul is
doomed. Arthur here is fighting in his human element, not his godhead,
and therefore, like any man, needs the help of grace. His squire

Timias provides aid in this instance:

So greatest and most glorious thing on ground
May often need the helpe of weaker hand;

So feeble is mans state, and life vnsound,
That in assurance it may neuer stand,

79
Till it dissolued be from earthly band.
Proofe be thou Prince, the prowest man aliue,
And noblest borne of all in Britavne land;
Yet thee fierce Fortune did so nearely driue,
That had not grace thee blest, thou shoulde st not suruiue.
(H, xi, 30)
This passage reinforces too the concept of the hidden consequences of
error we have seen evidenced in Guyon; man never permanently defeats
evil, although he may overcome it temporarily or apparently escape its
immediately corrupting effect. Even Christ- like Arthur is sorely injured
in his encounter with evil, requiring the ministrations of the restored
soul in harmony with itself to repair him:
And eke the fairest Alma met him there
With balme and wine and costly Spicery,
To comfort him in his infirmity;
Eftsoones she causd him vp to be conuayd,
And of his armes despoyled easily,

In sumptuous bed she made him to be layd,
And all the while his wounds were dressing, by him stayd.

(II, xi, 49)

Meanwhile, Guyon and the Palmer have resumed their former
que ster-guide relationship to complete their original commitment, the
destruction of Acrasia's Bower of Bliss. This time they go to the
riverside and wait for the ferryman together, Guyon setting on this
"voyage with his trustie guide. " In this final episode the ferryman,
sent by Alma, assumes a role as subsidiary guide; the Palmer steers
the boat and the ferryman rows. Together they avoid the obstacles

Which would endanger Guyon's newly-restored temperance. The boatman

8O

knows the danger of the Gulf of Greediness,

Said then the Boteman, Palmer stere aright,
And keepe an euen course; for yonder way

We needes must passe (God do vs well acquight,)
That is the Gulfe of GreedinesseJ they say,

That deepe engorgeth all this worldes pray:
Which hauing swallowd vp excessiuely,

He soone in vomit vp againe doth lay,

And belcheth forth his superfluity,

That all the seas for feare do seeme away to fly.

(H, xii, 3)
while the Palmer identifies the Rock of Vile Reproach:

The Palmer seeing them in safetie past,

Thus said; Behold th' ensamples in our sights,

Of lustfull luxurie and thriftlesse wast:

What now is left of miserable wights,

Which spent their looser daies in lewd delights,

But shame and sad reproch, here to be red,

By these rent reliques, speaking their ill plights?

Let all that liue, hereby be counselled,

To shunnne Rocke of Reproch, and it as death to dred.

(H, xii, 9)

 

On the water the boatman has the main guiding voice, although the
Palmer steers the craft; he instructs the Palmer to "keepe an euen
hand, " and through his strength guides them away from the Whirl-
pool Of Decay. Both clarify for the reader Guyon's earlier error in
boarding Phaedria's boat and his behavior toward her. The knight,
still unable to distinguish appearance from reality by himself, cries,
"Loe I the land descry, / Therefore old Syre thy course do thereunto

apply, " to which the boatman replies,

81

That may not be, said then the Ferryman
Least we vnweeting hap to be fordonne:
For those same Islands, seeming now and than,
Are not firme lande, nor any certein wonne,
But straggling plots, which to and fro do ronne
In the wide waters: therefore are they hight
The wandring Islands. Therefore doe them shonne;
For they haue oft drawne many a wandring wight
Into most deadly daunger and distressed plight.

(H, xii, 11)

 

 

The Palmer then attacks Phaedria, in contrast to Guyon's earlier

courtly tolerance:

Whom ouertaking, she in merry sort

Them gan to herd, and purpose diuersly,

Now faining dalliance and wanton sport,

Now throwing forth lewd words immode stly;

Till that the Palmer gan full bitterly

Her to rebuke, for being loose and light

Which not abiding, but more socrnefully

Scoffing at him, that did her iustly wite,

She turnd her bote about, and from them rowed quite.
(II, xii, 16)

The Palmer's ability to distinguish between appearance and reality
also is emphasized. Like Dante's Virgil, he reassures Guyon against

insubstantial dangers,

Feare nought, (then said the Palmer well auiz'd;)

For these same Monsters are not these in deed,

But are into these fearefull shapes disguiz'd

By that same wicked witch, to worke vs dreed,

And draw from on this iourney to proceede.

Tho lifting vp his vertuous staffe on hye,

He smote the sea, which calmed was with speed,

And all that dreadfull Armie fast gan flye

Into great Tethys bosome, where they hidden lye.
(H, xii, 26)

82
introducing, with his "vertuous staffe, " the often magical or supernatural

power of the guide figure we have seen earlier in Merlin.

He, however, is far less comforting when Guyon persists in his

attraction to illusions, specifically a Siren:

Which Guyon hearing, streight his Palmer bad,

To stere the boate towards that dolefull Mayd,

That he might know, and ease her sorrow sad:

Who him auizing better, to him sayd;

Faire Sir, be not displeasd, if disobayd:

For ill it were to hearken to her cry;

For she is inly nothing ill apayd,

But onely womanish fine forgery,

Your stubborne hart t'affect with fraile infirmity.
(H, xii, 28)

Still distracted, and now in an almost childlike role, Guyon is lured

by Zephyrus' "rare melody" and asks the boatman to row softly. The

Palmer "from that vanity, / With temperate aduice discounselled, "

until

at last the weather gan to cleare,

And the faire land it selfe did plainly show.

Said then the Palmer, Lo where does appeare

The sacred soile, where all our perils grow;

Therefore, Sir knight, your ready armes about you throw.

(H, xii, 37)

Finally arrived at the Bower of Bliss, they leave the boatman
behind , and "forth the noble Guyon sallied, / And his sage Palmer, that
him gouerned." We have noted before that one means of measuring the

hero's progress is through his changing relationship with the guide; as

a mutual protection and education evolves, the here has grown spiritually

83
or somehow moved closer to his ultimate goal. Here, apparently, the
two figures are equal, Guyon having absorbed enough instruction for

them to face the dangers together.

They marched fairly forth, of nought ydred,
Both firmely armd for euery hard assay, .
With constancy and care, gainst daunger and dismay.

(H, xii, 38)

Although the Palmer retains some of his guiding functions in the
Bower of Bliss episode, Guyon appears to be surer of the proper and
necessary behavior, frequently acting or commenting on his own. He
defies, quite rudely in comparison with earlier episodes, Genius and
Excess, and destroys their proffered gifts, behavior we as readers
must approve since it is not corrected or refined by the Palmer, our
standard of conduct. This sureness on Guyon's part is not meant to
imply that he has become an unfeeling automaton; Spenser stresses his
potential temptation both with the appealing descriptions of the Bower

and with such direct statements as

Much wondred Guyon at the faire aspect

Of that sweet place, yet suffred no delight

To sincke into his sence, nor mind affect,

But passed forth, and lookt still forward right,

Bridling his will, and maistering his might.
(II, xii, 53)

He also avoids making Guyon rigidly temperate; the knight is fallible
and still has great need of the Palmer, for example, in controlling his

attraction to the bathing nymphs:

84

On which when gazing him the Palmer saw,

He much rebukt those wandring eyes of his,

And counseld well, him forward thence did draw.

(H, xii, 69)

In this final passage, however, the Palmer's supernatural powers
receive greater attention, thereby indicating that Guyon has achieved
some degree of control over the mortal conflicts. The Palmer diSpells
monsters with his staff (that is, Right Reason dispells insubstantial
fears) and frames the "subtile net" with which the two entrap Acrasia
and her wanton lovers. Guyon himself destroys the lovely Bower, while
the Palmer pacifies the men-monsters transformed by lust.

The final stanzas evidence a reconciliation, a near-union, between
Guyon and the Palmer, as Spenser almost antiphonally balances their
dialogue. Guyon asks the Palmer who the monsters are; the Palmer
explains their transformation; Guyon, paralleling Arthur's mercy
toward Pyrochles, asks the Palmer to restore them; and he does so.
The last stanza shows the two, guide and quester, in harmony as they
didactically summarize the book's major theme:

Said Guyon, See the mind of beastly man,

That hath so soone forgot the excellence

'Of his creation, when he life began,

That now he chooseth, with vile difference,

To be a beast, and lacke intelligence.

To whom the Palmer thus, The donghill kind

Delights in filth and foule incontinence:

Let Grill be Grill, and haue his hoggish mind,

But let vs hence depart, whilest wether serues and wind.
(H, xii, 87)

85
Grill alone of the transformed captives berates the Palmer for having
returned him to human form, preferring to retain the hog's body which
complemented his hog's mind. The passage seems to parallel Revelation
22: 11, a statement of affairs at the time of the Apocalypse: "He that is
unjust, let him be unjust still: and he which is filthy, let him be filthy
still: and he that is righteous, let him be righteous still; and he that is
holy, let him be holy still. " The stanza thus reinforces Guyon's earlier
lessons on willful intemperance and man's responsibility to control his
own nature. And in this reeapitulation also lies the warning implicit

throughout The Faerie Queene: man is prone to forget, error and sin

 

are prone to pursue him, and the virtuous man never can rest in his
quest for virtue.

Thus in Book H of The Faerie Queene we find a relatively orthodox

 

use of guide figures, with Spenser employing one primary guide and
several auxiliary guides. The Palmer, Guyon's primary guide, most

closely corresponds to a figure like Virgil in The Divine Comedy: he is

 

in almost constant attendance on the quester and functions throughout the
quest; he measures the quester's spiritual progress by his reactions;

and he serves as an illustration of the elevated standard the quester seeks.
He is qualified through experience for his role; Spenser stresses his

age, wisdom, and sober mien, and we know in addition, through his name,
that he has been to New Jerusalem. Those attributes which Guyon seeks the
Palmer already possesses; his temperance never wavers, and he is able

to distinguish appearance from reality, both qualities which Guyon must

86

learn in order to achieve his goal. We are familiar with the specific
means by which the Palmer guides Guyon: he has been over the literal
road before, on his way to Gloriana's court, and thus geographically
leads the knight; he both verbally and physically protects him from fees;
he interprets events and figures which exceed Guyon's perception; he
directs and corrects his observations; and, finally, he enlists the aid

of auxiliary guides when a situation surpasses his knowledge or power.

These auxiliary guides are of two types: those who rule a particular
area in which Guyon can learn something; and those who represent a
higher power, outside aid above the Palmer's mundane, ethical control.
Medina, Phaedria, Mammon, and the ferryman are all familiar with
a limited territory significant to the quest. As they conduct Guyon
through their province, they physically convey him (Phaedria, ferryman),
answer his questions and direct his observations (Mammon, Medina),
and occasionally even physically protect him from destruction (Mammon).
Thus 111932 these guides serve as a substitute for the Palmer, although
their guidance and control are not as inclusive.

The angel, Arthur, and Alma represent a higher power than the
Palmer's, illustrating Spenser's frequently repeated belief that outside
aid always is available when needed or requested. All three figures
stand for a spiritual force beyond the Palmer's scope. The angel, of
course, is direct heavenly intervention and Shows that when the good

man has lost his reason, as Guyon has the Palmer, God offers temporary

protection. More lasting protection is available in Arthur, a type of

87
Christ able to defend man from attacks of mortal excess and the soul
itself from diabolical evil. Alma, representing the rational soul in
complete harmony with mind and body, serves as a sort of vision to
Guyon, a preview of the state he can hope to achieve if he continues his
progress. These auxiliary guides, then, do not differ from the Palmer
in kind but rather in degree. He tOo protects Guyon and illustrates his
goal, but he does not hold the deific sanction accorded the angel, Arthur,
and Alma. Thematically, of course, the three figures are vital; were
Guyon and the Palmer to complete the quest without their aid, Spenser
would be suggesting on the figurative level that temperance and reason,
man's rational self- control, are sufficient to reach the ultimate goal of
salvation”

Structurally, the Palmer and his auxiliary guides supply a unity
to the second book. The guide here is a narrative motif, a recurring
device to hold together and order the divergent parts. There is no
geographical consistency in the book, as Spenser wanders from mimetic
road and forest to figurative castle and glen to mythological water and
hell. The figures who populate the book also are a strange assortment
of historical, spiritual, and fictional creations. The Palmer, however,
by his constant presence and consistent standard of conduct, provides
a touchstone, an implicit ordering technique, for the reader. As his
black, sober figure (one of the most frequently repeated images in

Book H) measures the path we, like Guyon, follow his assessment and

are reassured of ultimate resolution by his presence.

88

Book H of The Faerie Queene is closely akin to the orthodox pattern

 

of Gilgamesh, not only in its primary and auxiliary guide figures but in

 

the utterly representational quality of much of the book. Spenser allows
episodes to stand for themselves, their value unenhanced by narrator
intrusion or subtle thematic manipulation. Book I, however, is far
more ambiguous and varied, far more open to interpretive confusion.
Our purpose, then, in considering Book I, is, first, to present several
of these interpretive difficulties; and, second, to Show how Spenser
achpts the guide convention seen in Book H to the structural and thematic
demands of Book I.

A coherent summary of the plot of the first book is difficult
because of the sheer number of episodes and characters, but basically
Spenser treats the growth of a hero in holiness, in a spiritually potent
state of mind and behavior. The impetus for this growth is Red Cross'
commitment to save Una's kingdom from evil, and the various tests on
the way to her kingdom strengthen him for the ultimate task.

Recognizing that the book is a quest, that each episode contributes
to the resolution of that quest, should provide some overall perspective
for the reader. Many critics, however, have lost that perspective,
instead bogging down in the shifting levels, values, and relationships
which also form an intrinsic aspect of the book. Roger Sale, for example,
first has misinterpreted one of Spenser's major themes and then has

compounded that error by applying his thematic misinterpretation to

89

structure:

[there is no need to describe the book as the education of its
hero. The process of redemption is clear enough and the
separate episodes do not so much form a causally connected
narrative as they do a tapestry of emblems, the final emphasis
of which is that there i_s_, really, no education for the Red
Crosse Knight because the presumption of such an education
would be that one can learn to defeat evil and be holy once

and for all. 1

Spenser's frequently reiterated point, of course, is that one never
banishes evil; temptation to sin is the way of the world, and a Christian's
duty is to train his senses and soul first to perceive evil and second to
combat it, when, where, and in what form it may appear. Thus Red
Cross' quest is educative and the lessons are cumulative, for he reaches
a spiritual stasis sufficient to defeat evil; that this defeat does not cause
a permanent evaporation of the diabolic forces is a statement on the
nature of evil, not on Red Cross' abilities.

Other areas of ambiguity besides theme are present in Book I.
Hough warns against the danger of "breaking through too rapidly to
the allegorical content" and thus failing "to do justice to Spenser's
unique fusion of diverse elements." The result, he points out, is that

we shall find the allegory itself confusing and inconsistent . . ,

we shall complain the Redcross who is Holiness is brought to

the House of Holiness to complete his spiritual education.

Or we shall be troubled by the inconsistent relations between

Redcross and Una, in which he is sometimes her saviour, she

sometimes his; possible, indeed frequent enough as a relation

between man and woman; but hardly possible as a relation between
two theological absolutes. 22

21 Sale, pp. 47-48.

22 Hough, pp. 144-145.

90

Simply through these two critical Opinions we can see that Book I
is a different breed of beast from Book H. It is more thematically
complex and more figuratively elusive. The main characters do not
represent anything as clear-cut as Temperance and Right Reason;
identifying them as Holiness and Truth does not refine their meaning
or resolve their ambiguous aspects. In Spenser's use of the guide
convention, too, we find numerous variations: the relationship between
quester and guide in Book I is dynamic and mutually dependent rather
than statically fixed at a higher and lower level of knowledge; greater
use is made of substitute guides, thus stressing the protean nature and
limitations of Una and Red Cross, as well as the fortuitousness of
experience; and false guides are primary, their use contributing not only
to character revelation but also to thematic development.

In tracing Spenser's use of guide figures and in evaluating their
effect on structural unity we shall follow the chronological method
employed in the discussion of Book H. The quest can be broken into four
segments: Red Cross and Una together; separate journeys with false
guides; reunion of Red Cross and Una with Arthur as intercessor; and
Red Cross and Una together again. The most basic observation to be
made is that when Una and Red Cross are together they successfully
overcome obstacles and maintain their spiritual natures; when they are
separated both fail to do so.

The book Opens with the orthodox defense of the hero as worthy

of his task and the quest as worthy of him, with one major difference.

91
Spenser stresses the untried nature of the knight; his armor is dented
with wounds earned by former owners, and his mental attitude reflects
a youthful hope and fear. These details are explained in the "Letter to
Raleigh," where Red Cross is introduced as a bumpkin, "a tall
clownish young man" who wanders uninvited into Gloriana's banquet hall
and squats on the floor, unfit to share board with tested knights.
Presumptuously begging a been of the Queen, "that clownish person"
both is judged unfit by Gloriana and scorned by the petitioning Una.
Only when he fits into the armor she has brought with her is he allowed
to attempt the task. In Red Cross we do not have the experienced,
mature knight who already has earned respect and rank, as we have in
Guyon. We instead have an untested neophyte whose only attributes are
good intentions and a desire for adventure. We thus might expect to
find much of Book I devoted to Red Cross' discovery and definition of
who he is, what he represents, rather than to the maintenance of an
already established character like Guyon's.

Una rides beside Red Cross, and her position is significant; the
Palmer precedes Guyon, but Una and Red Cross initially are equal. She
shares the whiteness of Beatrice and the Pearl maiden but her radiance
is cloaked, perhaps by the effects of her prior encounter with evil,

perhaps because Red Cross does not yet deserve to see her full aspect.

'A louely Ladie rode him faire beside,

Vpon a lowly Asse more white than snow,
Yet she much whiter, but the same did hide
Vnder a vele, that wimpled was full low,
And ouer all a blacke stole she did throw,

92

As one that inly mournd: so was she sad,

And heauie sat vpon her palfrey Slow:

'Seemed in heart some hidden care she had,

And by her in a line a milke white lambe she lad.

(I, i, 4)

She is followed by a dwarf, representing Prudence, who will later serve
as an auxiliary guide to both Red Cross and Una and provide the connecting
link in their separate journeys. The mutual relationship between guide
and quester appears early as both are lost in the forest. Were Una
completely defined, self- sufficient, and potent, she would know the way;
instead they wander together.

Red Cross' initial test with Una as guide comes with their approach
to Error's den and it is here that the hero makes his first mistake. Its
consequences illustrate that intention to error is not necessary;
misapprehension is equally dangerous. The argument between Una and

Red Cross is thematically significant:

At last re soluing forward still to fare,

Till that some end they finde or in or out,

That path they take, that beaten seemed most bare,
And like to lead the labyrinth about;

Which when by tract they hunted had throughout,

At length it brought them to a hollow caue,

Amid the thickest woods. The Champion stout
Eftsoones dismounted from his courser braue,

And to the Dwarfe a while his needlesse spere he gaue.

Be well aware, quoth then that Ladle milde,

Least suddaine mischiefe ye too rash prouoke:

The danger hid, the place vnknowne and wilde,
Breedes dreadfull doubts: Oft fire is without smoke,
And perill without show: therefore your stroke

Sir knight with- hold, till further triall made.

Ah Ladie (said he) shame were to reuoke

93

The forward footing for an hidden shade:
Vertue giues her selfe light, through darknesse for to wade.

Yea but (quoth she) the perill of this place

I better wot then you, though now too late

.To wish you back returne with foule disgrace,

Yet wisedome warnes, whilest foot is in the gate,

To stay the steppe, ere forced to retrate.

This is the wandring wood, this Errours den,

A monster vile, whom God and man does hate:
Therefore I read beware. Fly fly (quoth then

The fearefull Dwarfez) this is no place for liuing men.

 

But full of fire and greedy hardiment,
The youthfull knight could not for ought be staide,
But forth vnto the darksome hole he went,

And looked in . . .
(I, i, 11- 14)

Una introduces the theme Of appearance versus reality, warning Red
Cross of concealed danger. His immature bravado Shows his tendency
to underestimate the power of evil and overestimate the power of
potential virtue. She then employs her authorit --"I better wot then you"--
and repeats her warning, which the dwarf choruses. Red Cross,
however, is committed to his illusion of knightly courage, and by acting
on that false concept rather than heeding his guide's greater knowledge,
he initiates the series of disasters which will pursue them both. With

Una's aid he apparently wins his first combat:

His Lady sad to see his sore constraint, -

Cride out, Now now Sir knight, shew what ye bee,

Add faith vnto your force, and be not faint:

Strangle her, else she sure will strangle thee.

That when he heard, in great perplexitie, ’

His gall did grate for griefe and high disdaine,

And knitting all his force got one hand free,

Wherewith he grypt her gorge with so great paine,

That soone to loose her wicked bands did her constraine.
(I. i. 19)

94

Even she approves his victory,

Faire knight, borne vnder happy starre,
Who see your vanquisht foes before you lye;
Well worthy be you of that Armorie,
Wherin ye haue great glory wonne this day,
And proou'd your strength on a strong enimie,
Your first aduenture: many such I pray
And henceforth euer wish, that like succeed it may.

(I, i, 27)

but one cannot assume that Spenser also approves it. The episode is

recounted from Red Cross' perception, a frequent method in The Faerie

 

M, and thus may or may not be accurate. The determining factors
here are that Red Cross explicitly is warned by his guide not to act; he
willfully disobeys her, showing a temperament Spenser specifically
condemns; and the consequences of the apparent victory are wholly
malicious. The situation is comparable to Guyon's voyage with Phaedria;
although he resists her temptation, he has erred in abandoning the Palmer
to pursue his curiosity. His debilitation upon emerging from Mammon's
realm indicates that the effect of the initial misjudgment has not been
discounted but me rely postponed.

These malicious effects appear immediately as Una and Red Cross
meet their first false guide, Archimago, one of Spenser's "character
shadows." Disguised as a hermit, Archimago is a pre- or proto-false
guide, a preview of Duessa. Both Una and Red Cross are deceived by
his mien, and Spenser again limits his interpretation to their false

perception:

95

At length they chaunst to meet vpon the way

An aged Sire, in long blacke weedes yclad,

His feete all bare, his beard all hoarie gray,

And by his belt his booke he hanging had;

Sober he seemde, and very sagely sad,

And to the ground his eyes were lowly bent,

Simple in shew, and voyde of malice bad,

And all the way he prayed, as he went,

And often knockt his brest, as one that did repent. . . .

So with that godly father to his home they went.
(I, i, 29, 33)

The next consequence of Red Cross' confrontation with Error is his
deception by Una's demonic double, created by Archimago for the occasion.
He reacts quite prOperly to the seductive vision; his inability to distinguish
true from false is the error, not his behavior. Again Spenser produces
duality, modifying the reader's condemnation of Red Cross' blindness

with approval of his reaction and thereby stressing the subtlety, the

ease, of evil.

In this great passion of vnwonted lust,

Or wonted feare of doing ought amis,

He started vp, as seeming to mistrust

Some secret ill, or hidden foe of his:

Lo there before his face his Lady is,

Vnder blake stole hyding her bayted hooke,

And as halfe blushing offred him to kis,

With gentle blandishment and louely looke,

Most like that virgin true, which for her knight him took.

All cleane dismayd to see so vncouth sight,

And halfe enraged at her shamelesse guise,

He thought haue slaine her in his fierce de spight:

But hasty heat tempring with sufferance wise,

He stayde his hand, and gan himselfe aduise

To prone his sense, and tempt her faigned truth.
(I, i, 49- 50)

Usurping Una's role, Archimago restrains Red Cross from killing both

96
phantom Una and her lover. Through this laudatory and protective action
by a totally evil figure-- good means to base ends--the theme of duality
is amplified.

Aided by the dwarf Red Cross escapes, thus opening the second
structural unit, separate journeys with false guides. Red Cross has
been presented with a qualified guide figure in Una; through his failure
to obey her and his inability to distinguish evil, he has lost her; and
he has followed a false guide, thereby inviting attack by deceptive forces.

Spenser makes it clear that Red Cross is in trouble without Una:

But he the knight, whose semblaunt he did beare,
The true Saint George was wandred far away,
Still flying from his thoughts and gealous feare;
Will was his guide, and griefe led him astray.

(I, ii, 12)

 

His second false guide is Una's opposite, Duessa, or doubleness.

Spenser's description is a direct contrast to Una:

'He had a faire companion of his way,

A goodly Lady clad in Scarlet red,

Purfled with gold and pearle of rich assay,

And like a Persian mitre on her bed

She wore, with crownes and owches garnished,

The which her lauish louers to her gaue;

Her wanton palfrey all was ouerspred

With tinsell trappings, wouen like a waue,

Whose bridle rung with golden bels and bosses braue.
(1, ii, 13)

and her history as daughter of the POpe (later clarified as "the daughter
of Deceit and Shame") jars with Una's as a daughter of God. Red Cross

is duped by her pathetic story and seduced by her beauty, so blinded, in

97

fact, that he fails to understand Fradubio's tale. A narrative sign of
Duessa's falseness, Fradubio foreshadows Red Cross' fate and provides
a clear warning, but Red Cross is "more busying his quicke eyes, her
face to view, / Then his dull eares" (I, ii, 26), and thus further commits
himself to following error.

Duessa is the complete false guide; she fulfills all of the guide's
educative and protective functions to utterly evil ends. She leads Red

Cross along the path she already knows:

Great troupes of people traueild thitherward
Both day and night, of each degree and place,
But few returned, hauing scaped hard,

With balefull beggerie, or foule disgrace,
Which euer after in most wretched case,
Like loathsome lazars, by the hedges lay.
Thither Due ssa bad him bend his pace:

For she is wearie of the toilesome way,

And also nigh consumed is the lingrin day.
(1, iv, 3

She intercedes for him to Lucifera in the House of Pride, gaining his
entrance and rights of observation. She encourages him in combat,
praises him after victory, and helps to heal his wounds. And, with
each service provided by Duessa, Red Cross slips a step backwards
in sin, a reverse quest of sorts. His association with her on the way
to the House of Pride has reduced him, as Spenser shows by his initial
reaction to Lucifera's court:

Goodly they all that knight do entertaine,

Right glad with him to haue increast their crew:

But to Due ss' each one himselfe did paine
All kindnesse and faire courtesie to shew;

98

For in that court whylome her well they knew:

Yet the stout Faerie mongst the middest crowd

Thought all their glorie vaine in knightly vew,

And that great Princesse too exceeding prowd,

That to strange knight no better countenance allowd.
(I, iv, 15)

As Kellogg and Steele note, "Red Cross's reaction to Lucifera's court
is complex. He recognizes the vanity and snobbery of the place, but he
is himself hurt that no attention is being paid him. That is, he is guilty
of vanity. "23

His reaction to the procession of the Seven Deadly Sins is equally
ambiguous:

So forth they marchen in this goodly sort,

To take the solace of the open aire,

And in fresh flowring fields themselues to sport;

Emongst the rest rode that false Lady faire,

The fowle Duessa, next vnto the chaire

Of proud Lucifera, as one of the traine:

But that good knight would not so nigh repaire,

Him selfe estraunging from their ioyaunce vaine,
Whose fellowship seemd far vnfit for warlike swaine.

( I, iv, 37 )
His defeat of Sansfoy, apparently praiseworthy in that holiness has
banished lack-Of-faith but actually worthless because of Red Cross'
deception, is only another statement of his fallen condition. Sansfoy's
invisibility should indicate to Red Cross that he has been fighting an
insubstantial foe and thus is in the court of evil and hypocrisy; instead
he "stands amazed how he thence should fade," accepts Lucifera's

homage, and commits himself to her.

 

23 Kellogg and Steele, p. 118“.

99

Enlightened by "his wary Dwarfe, " who has found "where in a
dongeon deepe huge numbers lay/ Of caytiue wretched thrals that wayled
night and day, " Red Cross escapes the House of Pride. His reaction is
dual; the dwarf 's explicit account of the horrors of sin is not enough to
clarify his perception of Duessa:

So doubly is distrest twixt ioy and cares

The dreadlesse courage of this Elfin knight,

Hauing escapt so sad ensamples in his sight.

Yet sad he was that his too hastie speed

The faire Duess' had forst him leaue behind . . .
(I: Vi: 1‘2)

 

Although he leaves Duessa as he left Una, the comparison is not to Red
Cross' favor: in a mistaken moral fervor he has deserted Truth; heeding
his sensual attraction to Duessa he has blindly followed duplicity; and
his separation from Duessa is not precipitated by any recognition of her
mture. Although Red Cross knows that the House of Pride is dangerous,
because the dwarf has shown him the dungeon, he apparently has not
connected Duessa with the House and concluded that she must be evil to
go to such a place. By now, of course, Spenser has completely removed
any doubt the unwary reader might have had about either Duessa's evil
nature or Red Cross' error; her trip to Night to intercede for the
wounded Sansfoy clarifies her as a potent and dynamic demonic power.
Still captive to his false guide, Red Cross easily welcomes her
when she finds him at the nymph's fountain. He drinks of the debilitating

waters, loses his strength, and succumbs to Duessa's physical charms,

100
"pourd out in loosnesse on the grassy grownd, / Both carelesse of his
health, and of his fame. " The effect of such a sin is immediate, as
Orgoglio, symbol of Red Cross' own pride of the flesh, attacks and
defeats him; the combat contrasts rather strongly with the proud knight's

initial battle against Error:

That when the knight he spide, he gan aduance

With huge force and insupportable mayne,

And towardes him with dreadfull fury praunce;

Who haplesse, and eke hopelesse, all in vaine

Did to him pace, sad battaile to darrayne,

Disarmd, disgrast, and inwardly dismayde,

And eke so faint in euery ioynt and vaine,

Through that fraile fountaine, which him feeble made,
That scarsely could he weeld his bootlesse single blade.

(1, vii, 11)

Ironically, Duessa saves Red Cross from death, thus performing

her final function as his guide:

So daunted when the Geaunt saw the knight,
His heauie hand he heaued vp on hye,

And him to dust thought to haue battred quight,
Vntill Duessa loud to him gan crye;

0 great Orgoglio, greatest vnder Skye,

0 hold thy mortall hand for Ladies sake,

Hold for my sake, and do him not to dye,

But vanquisht thine eternall bondslaue make,
And me thy worthy meed vnto thy Leman take.

He hearkned, and did stay from further harmes . . .
(1, vii, 14-15)
Several reasons for her strange intervention can be postulated. A few
stanzas earlier Spenser has cited heavenly grace as Red Cross' saviour,

and perhaps this grace is working through Duessa. Perhaps, in her

101
desire to couple with Orgoglio, she is following a female whim. Perhaps
she is exerting her desire to control, at the same time confirming the
chaos and duplicity of her nature. At any rate, her protection of the
fallen knight produces an ironic comparison with Una's later intervention
on his behalf.

In this second section, then, Red Cross has lost his true guide,
adopted a substitute false guide, and followed her on a reverse quest.
With each guiding action, whether advice, information, protection, or
direction, Duessa negatively influences Red Cross. His interlude with
a false guide thus is corrupting and reductive. As a result, any future
quest first must restore his spiritual state and then help him to progress.

Una's separate journey, on the contrary, does not reduce or
corrupt her but instead neutralizes her. She sustains her essential
goodness under temptation and conflict, but without Red Cross she
does not grow; nothing is added to the powers she possessed prior to
their separation. After Red Cross and the dwarf have left her she
wanders alone,

And after him she rode with so much speede

As her slow beast could make; but all in vaine:

For him so far had borne his light-foot steede,

Pricked with wrath and fiery fierce disdaine,

That him to follow was but fruitlesse paine;

Yet she her weary limbes would neuer rest,

But euery hill and dale, each wood and plaine

Did search, sore grieued in her gentle brest,

He so vngently left her, whom she loued be st.
(1. ii. 8)

Spenser thus introduces the question of how much power Una actually

102
possesses when true religion is isolated from holiness. He makes it
quite clear that Una also is in trouble when alone (one signpost in the
above passage is the reversal of the proper order as she now follows
Red Cross), but emphasizes her innocence; the blame is Red Cross',

not Una's, as Spenser shows in a sympathetic narrator intrusion:

And now it is empassioned so deepe,

For fairest Vnaes sake, of whom I sing,

That my fraile eyes these lines with teares do steepe,

To thinke how she through guilefull handeling,

Though true as touch, though daughter of a king,

Though faire as euer liuing wight was faire,

Though nor in word nor deede ill meriting,

IS from her knight diourced ill despaire

And her due loues deriu'd to that vile witches share.
(1, iii, 2)

Two types of substitute guide accompany Una in her wanderings:
one, the beneficent natural forces; and, two, the forces of evil. Her
first defender is the lion, symbol of natural power and an ironic shadow
to Red Cross; as the supposedly rational Red Cross' natural sympathies
are drawing him to false Duessa, the primitive and unreasoning beast's
are affixing him to Una. His faithful behavior toward her, his willingness

to serve and obey her, highlight Red Cross' disobedience and lack of faith:

The Lyon would not leaue her desolate,
But with her went along, as a strong gard
Of her chast person, and a faithfull mate
Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard:
Still when she slept, he kept both watch and ward,
And when she wakt, he waited diligent,
With humble seruice to her will prepard:
From her faire eyes he tooke commaundement,
And euer by her lookes conceiued her intent.
(1, iii, 9)

103
Her next companion is Archimago, disguised as Red Cross, and she

is completely deceived by him:

And weeping said, Ah my long lacked Lord,

Where haue ye bene thus long out of my sight?

Much feared I to haue bene quite abhord,

Or ought haue done, that ye displeasen might,

That should as death vnto my deare hart light:

For since mine eye your ioyous sight did mis,

My chearefull day is turnd to chearelesse night,

And eke my night of death the Shadow is;

But welcome now my light, and shining lampe of blis.

(1, iii, 27)

Believing that she has been reunited with her knight, she resumes her

guiding function to protect him from Sansloy:

Therewith in haste his helmet gan vnlace,

Till YE cride, 0 hold that heauie hand,

Deare Sir, what euer that thou be in place:

Enough is, that thy foe doth vanquisht stand

Now at thy mercy: Mercie not withstand:

For he is one the truest knight aliue,

Though conquered now he lie on lowly land,

And whilest him fortune fauourd, faire did thriue

In bloudie field: therefore of life him not depriue.
(I, iii, 37 )

Like Fradubio, Sansloy is a narrative Sign of Archimago's falseness,
but Una, unlike Red Cross, heeds his identification. This revelation of
evil, however, does not help her to escape physical subjection; her

perception can only prevent spiritual subjection, not produce effective
action, and she thus is abducted by Sansloy, who has killed the lion.
Who now is left to keepe the forlorne maid

From raging spoile of lawlesse victors will?
Her faithfull gard remou'd, her hope dismaid,

104

Her selfe a yeelded pray to saue or spill.

He now Lord of the field, his pride to fill,

With foule reproches, and disdainfull spight

Her vildly entertaine s, and will or 11111,

Beares her away vpon his courser light:

Her prayers nought preuaile, his rage is more of might.
(I, iii, 43)

Her next protectors are again natural forces, in the form of the
satyrs, Sylvanus, and Satyrane. From necessity she accepts their aid

but resists their naive corrupting influence:

Glad of such lucke, the luckelesse lucky maid,

Did her content to please their feeble eyes,

And long time with that saluage people staid,

To gather breath in many miseries.

During which time her gentle wit she plyes,

To teach them truth, which worshipt her in vaine,

And made her th'Image of Idolatryes;

But when their bootlesse zeale she did re straine

From her own worship, they her Asse would worship fayn.

(I, vi, 19)

She also remains faithful to Red Cross, although the reader's sympathies
by now favor the kindly Satyrane, who acts as her guide in effecting her

escape from the forest and whose behavior shadows Red Cross' actions:

He wondred at her wisedome heauenly rare,
Whose like in womens wit he neuer knew;

And when her curteous deeds he did compare,
Gan her admire, and her sad sorrowes rew,
Blaming of Fortune, which such troubles threw,
And ioyd to make proofs of her crueltie

On gentle Dame, so hurtlesse, and so trew:
Thenceforth he kept her goodly company,

And learnd her discipline of faith and veritie.

105

But she all vowd vnto the Redcrosse knight,

His wandring perill closely did lament,

Ne in this new acquaintaunce could delight,

But her deare heart with anguish did torment,

And all her wit in secret counsels spent,

How to escape. At last in priuie wise

To Satyrane she shewed her intent;

Who glad to gain such fauour, gan deuise,

How with that pensiue Maid be best might thence arise.

 

So on a day when Satyres all were gone,

To do their seruice to Syluanus old,

The gentle virgin left behind alone

He led away with courage stout and bold.

Too late it was, to Satyres to be told,

Or euer hope recouer her againe:

In vaine he seekes that hauing cannot hold.

So fast he carried her with carefull paine,

That they the woods are past, and come now to the plaine.

( I, vi, 31-33)
In his physically carrying her we see the monster-animal guide of fairy
tales, who transports the hero on his back or in his arms.

Accompanied by Satyrane Una next encounters Archimago, thi s
time disguised as a pilgrim, and is deceived again, believing that Red
Cross has been killed by Sansloy. The two journeys, Una's and Red
Cross', now begin to interweave as Satyrane, followed by Una, marches
to the fountain where Sansloy rests. The fountain thus is the geographical
connection which signals the imminent reunion of quester and guide;
however, their behavior, and Satyrane's, at the fountain is directly
opposed. Red Cross fornicates with Duessa, is defeated by an embodi-
ment of his own pride, and is captured by evil; Satyrane fights courageously

to protect Una; and Una, through fear, flees the scene to continue her

search for Red Cross.

106

Una, then, has escaped corruption by the demonic forces in her
separate journey. She has needed help, substitute guides, to direct
and defend her, but she has not been in danger of succumbing to tempta-
tion. Her one fault, if "fault" is not too strong a word, is her inability
to perceive deception. She falls to Archimago's guises time after time,
apparently learning nothing from the experience. Spenser's initial
explanation, on a very literal level, is that she is a woman in love,

hearing and seeing what she wants:

His [Archimago's7 louely words her seemd due recompence
Of all her passed paines: one louing howre

For many yeares of sorrow can dispence:

A dram of sweet is worth a pound of sowre:

She has forgot, how many a wofull stowre

For him she late endur'd; she speakes no more

Of past: true is, that true loue hath no powre

To looken backe; his eyes he fixt before.

Before her stands her knight, for whom she toyld so sore.

(1, iii, 30)

His second explanation, in his role as narrator, somewhat clarifies
Red Cross' deception but does not aid with Una's, who is on a higher,

less mortal level than the hero:

What man so wise, what earthly wit so ware,

AS to descry the crafty cunning traine,

By which deceipt doth maske in visour faire,

And cast her colours dyed deepe in graine,

To seeme like Truth, whose Shape she well can faine,
And fitting gestures to her purpose frame,

The guiltlesse man with guile to entertaine?
Greatmaistresse of her art was that false Dame,

The false ijessa, cloked with Fidessaes name.

(1, vii, 1)

107
The best reason for her inability to perceive hypocrisy, in the form of
Archimago, probably is the one John Milton offers when Uriel is beguiled
by the disguised Satan wending his way toward earth:
So spake the false dissembler unperceiv'd;

For neither Man nor Angel can discern

Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks

Invisible, except to God alone,

By his permissive will, through Heav'n and Earth:

And oft though wisdom wake, suspicion sleeps

At wisdom's Gate, and to simplicity

Resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill

Where no ill seems . . .24

The third structural unit of Book I uses Prince Arthur as the
intercessor-guide and includes his restoration of the discouraged Una
and release of the imprisoned Red Cross. The dwarf initiates the
process of reunion between Red Cross and Una, serving as a messenger
to her and reviving her sensibilities to a point where she is capable of
meeting Arthur and enlisting his aid. Arthur is the ideal hero, of noble
background and appearance, but he has one special qualification as a
substitute guide, an ability which gives him superior power. Through
his shield he is protected against hypocrisy, and thus can supply both

Una's and Red Cross' major deficiency:

No magicke arts hereof had any might,

Nor bloudie wordes of bold Enchaunters call,

But all that was not such, as seemd in sight,

Before that shield did fade, and suddeine fall:

 

24 John Milton, Paradise LOSE H1, 11. 681-689, in Complete Poems
and Major Prosg, ed. Merritt Y. Hughes (New York, 1957), p. 27 5.

 

 

 

108
And when him list the raskall routes appall,
Men into stones therewith he could transmew,
And stones to dust, and dust to nought at all;

And when him list the prouder lookes subdew,
He would them gazing blind, or turne to other hew.

(1, vii, 35)

As Kellogg and Steele note, "Before Arthur can rescue Red Cross
he must rescue Una from deSpair, teach her to renew her faith from
within and urge her to a kind of confession. "25 Una's responsibility
will be to resume her role as guide, to restore Red Cross and lead him
to his ultimate task, and unless she is whole herself she cannot accomplish
the feat. Una thus tells her tale to Arthur, who comforts, reassures,
and commits himself to her:

Ere she had ended all, she gan to faint :

But he her comforted and faire bespake,

Certes, Madame, ye haue great cause of plaint,

That stoutest heart, I weene, could cause to quake.

But be of cheare, and comfort to you take:

For till I haue acquit your captiue knight,

Assure your selfe, I will you not forsake.

His chearefull words reuiu'd her chearelesse spright,
So forth they went, the Dwarfe them guiding euer right.

(1, vii, 52)
His approval of her reactions is a sign to the reader that Una has
perceived correctly and conducted herself properly during her wanderings.
The dwarf, because he knows the way through prior experience, then
guides Una and Una guides Arthur to Orgoglio's dungeon. Spenser intrudes
as narrator to stress the continual presence of temptation, man's

continual weakness, and the continual aid available to him:

 

25 Kellogg and Steele, p. 160“.

109

Ay me, how many perils doe enfold

The: righteous man, to make him daily fall?

Were not, that heauenly grace doth him vphold,

And stedfast truth acquite him out of all.

Her loue is firme, her care continuall,

So oft as he through his owne foolish pride,

Or weaknesse is to sinfull bands made thrall:

Else should this Redcrosse knight in bands haue dyde,

For whose deliuerance she this Prince doth thither guide.
(I, viii, 1)

 

In the ensuing battle with Orgoglio Due ssa attempts to act as the
giant's guide, warning and encouraging him, but Arthur's power to discern
hypocrisy renders them both ineffectual:

At her so pitteous cry was much amoou'd

Her champion stout, and for to ayde his frend,

Againe his wonted angry weapon proou'd:

But all in vaine: for he has read his end

In that bright shield, and all their forces spend

Themselues in vaine: for since that glauncing sight,

He hath no powre to hurt, nor to defend;

As where th'Almighties lightning brond does light,
It dimmes the dazed eyen, and daunts the senses quight.

( 1, viii, 21)
Her powers at an end, Duessa attempts to flee but is restrained by
Timias, the supplementary aid which even Arthur needs, as we saw in
Book H.

After he defeats Orgoglio, Arthur and Una evolve a more mutual
relationship; Una no longer is dependent on Arthur and she thus becomes
almost his superior, directing his actions and evaluating the situation.
This change in roles does not suggest that Arthur has lost his powers,

but only that Una has regained hers. She politely orders Arthur to

110
restrain Duessa and release Red Cross, commands Duessa's disrobing,

and points out the moral:

Which when the knights beheld, amazd they were,
And wondred at so fowle deformed wight.

Such then (said Vna) as she seemeth here,

Such is the face—Efalshood, such the sight

Of fowle Duessa, when her borrowed light

Is laid away, and counterfesaunce knowne.

Thus when they had the witch disrobed quight,

And all her filthy feature open shown,

They let her goe at will, and wander wayes vnknowne.

(1, viii, 49)

With Duessa skulking nakedly away the contrast between false guide and

true reaches its apogee.
This third structural unit ends with the resumption of the original
quest. Red Cross estimates Una's and Arthur's roles, indicating that

he now perceives correctly:

Thine, 0 then, said the gentle Redcrosse knight,
Next to that Ladies loue, Shalbe the place,

0 fairest virgin, full of heauenly light,

Whose wondrous faith, exceeding earthly race,
Was firmest fixt in mine extremest case.

And you, my Lord, the Patrone of my life,

Of that great Queene may well gaine worthy grace :
For onely worthy you through prowes priefe

Yf liuing man mote worthy be, to be her liefe.

(1, ix, 17)

 

Una praises Arthur's quest for the Faerie Queene, thereby backhandedly

chiding Red Cross for his behavior toward her:

0 happy Queene of Faeries, that hast found

Mongst many, one that with his prowesse may

Defend thine honour, and thy foes confound:

True Loues are often sown, but seldom grow on ground.
(I, ix, 16) '

111

Finally, Arthur relinquishes his protective role to Una and departs.
This unit, then, uses Arthur as an auxiliary guide, a guide chosen
because he in his ability to discover hypocrisy possesses a higher
power than the primary guide. His role in Book I thus is similar to
that in Book H, where the Palmer needs a greater force to defend and
restore the tarnished Guyon. We have seen that Una is able to insulate
herself from corruption but cannot act dynamically to banish evil;
Arthur thus is the active power needed to supplement her potential control.

The fourth structural unit, the educative revival of Red Cross and
conclusion of the quest, is an orthodox resolution with Una the competent
guide. Its three major episodes are Red Cross' encounter with Despair,
his restoration at the House of Holiness, and the return to Una's kingdom
and consequent defeat of the dragon. The encounter with Despair
illustrates the weakening effect of Red Cross' imprisonment and also
provides an interesting contrast to his earlier contact with Error. This
time Una intervenes directly to prevent his action, employing the most
abusive language thusfar needed:

Which when as V33 saw, through euery vaine

The crudled cold ran to her well of life,

As in a swowne: but soone reliu'd againe,

Out of his hand she snatcht the cursed knife,

And threw it to the ground, enraged rife,

And to him said, Fie, fie, faint harted knight,

What meanest thou by this reprochfull strife?

Is this the battell, which thou vauntst to fight
With that fire-mouthed Dragon, horrible and bright?

112

Come, come away, fraile, feeble, fleshly wight,

Ne let vaine words bewitch thy manly hart.

Ne diuelish thoughts dismay thy constant spright.

In heauenly mercies hast thou not a part?

Why shouldst thou then deSpeire, that chosen art?
Where in stice growes, there grows eke greater grace,
The which doth quench the brond of hellish smart,
And that accurst hand-writing doth deface.

Arise, Sir knight arise, and leaue this cursed place.

(1, ix, 52-53)

Chastened but unable to effect his own cure, Red Cross follows
Una to the House of Holiness where he will learn those lessons necessary
to complete the quest. Una here is his patron; only through her sponsor-
ship is the fallen knight allowed to enter, and it is she who endorses him
to the various auxiliary guides within. Una is known and approved by

Dame Caelia, whose permission Red Cross needs to cross even the portal:

And her [Una] embracing said, O happie earth,
Whereon thy innocent feet doe euer tread,

Most vertuous virgin borne of heauenly berth,
That to redeeme thy woefull parents head,

From tyrans rage, and euer-dying dread,

Hast wandred through the world now long a day;
Yet ceasest not thy wearie soles to lead,

What grace hath thee now hither brought this way?
Or doen thy feeble feet vnweeting hither stray?

Thy selfe to see, and tyred limbs to rest,

0 matrone sage (quoth she) I hither came,

And this good knight his way with me addre st,

Led with thy prayses and broad-blazed fame,

That vp to heauen is blowne. The auncient Dame

Him goodly greeted in her modest guise,

And entertaynd them both, as best became,

With all the court'sies, that she could deuise,

Ne wanted ought, to shew her bounteous or wise.
(I, x, 9, 11)

113
We need not review every experience in the House of Holiness;
a summary of Una's guidance and sponsorship is our concern. She

asks Fidelia to help Red Cross:

Faire Eda gan Fidelia faire request,

To haue her knight into her schoolehouse plaste,

That of her heauenly learning he might taste,

And heare the wisedome of her words diuine.

She graunted, and that knight so much agraste,

That she him taught celestiall discipline,

And opened his dull eyes, that light mote in them shine.
(I, x, 18)

When his learning from Fidelia and Speranza do not relieve his agony,

Una represents his plight to Caelia, who

her wisely comforted all that she might,
With goodly counsell and aduisement right;
And streightway sent with carefull diligence,
To fetch a Leach . .

(I, x, 23)

Una also restrains her own emotions; Spenser here has no need

to rationalize her behavior as that of a woman in love:

His owne deare Via hearing euermore

His ruefull shriekes and gronings, often tore

Her guiltlesse garments, and her golden heare,

For pitty of his paine and anguish sore;

Yet all with patience wisely She did beare;

For well she wist, his crime could else be neuer cleare.
(I: X, 28)

She praises and comforts him after his ordeal, giving him the strength

to continue his therapy:

114

Whom thus recouer'd by wise Patience,

And trew Rgentance they to Vna brought:
Who ioyous of his cured conscience,

Him dearely kist, and fairely eke besought
Himselfe to chearish, and consuming thought

To put away out of his carefull brest.
(I. X. 29)

 

Through Una Red Cross meets the third sister, Charissa, who

initiates the final hierarchy of substitute guides:

In which when him she well instructed hath,
From thence to heauen she teacheth him the ready path.

Wherein his weaker wandring steps to guide,

An auncient matrone she to her does call,

Whose sober lookes her wisedome well descride:
Her name was Mercie, well knowne ouer all,

To be both gratious, and eke liberall

To whom the carefull charge of him she gaue,
To lead aright, that he should neuer fall

In all his wayes through this wide worldes waue,

That Mercy in the end his righteous soule might saue.
(I, x, 33- 34)

 

Mercy performs the orthodox functions of a guide; the following passages
well summarize the role we have seen played by Virgil, Merlin, and

others:

The godly Matrone by the hand him beares

Forth from her presence, by a narrow way,
Scattred with bushy thornes, and ragged breare 3,
Which still before him she remou'd away,

That nothing might his ready passage stay:

And euer when his feet encombred were,

Or gan to shrinke, or from the right to stray,
She held him fast, and firmely did vpbeare,

As carefull Nourse her child from falling oft does reare. . . .

115

There she awhile him stayes, him selfe to rest,
That to the rest more able he might bee:
During which time, in euery good behest

And godly worke of Almes and charitee

She him instructed with great industree;
Shortly therein so perfect he became,

That from the first vnto the last degree,

His mortall life he learned had to frame

In holy righteousnesse, without rebuke or blame.
(I, x, 35, 45)

Mercy is Red Cross' patron to Heavenly Contemplation, who

had he not that Dame respected more,
Whom highly he did reuerence and adore,
He would not once haue moued for the knight.
(I, X, 49)

Through the combined efforts, then, of Una, Fidelia, Speranza,
Charissa, Caelia, and Mercy, Red Cross is allowed his final vision of
New Jerusalem and his future elevation to Saint George. Besides serving
the conventional guide functions within his own sphere, Contemplation
also assures the resolution of Red Cross' earthly quest and returns him

to Una's care:

0 let me not (quoth he) then turneagaine

Backe to the world, whose ioyes so fruitlesse are;

But let me here for aye in peace remaine,

Or streight way on that last long voyage fare,

That nothing may my present hope - empare.

That may not be (said he) he maist thou yit

Forgo that royall maides bequeathed care,

Who did her cause into thy hand commit,

Till from her cursed foe thou haue her freely quit. . . .

116

At last whenas himselfe he gan to find,

To 111.3 back he cast him to retire;

Who him awaited still with pensiue mind,

Great thankes and goodly meed to that good syre,

He thence departing gaue for his paines hyre.

So came to Vna, who him ioyd to see,

And after lit—le— rest , gan him desire,

Of her aduenture mindfull for to bee.

So leaue they take of Caelia, and her daughters three.

(I, x, 63, 68)

 

In this passage Spenser reiterates the theme that man never is safe from
the world's dangers; he does not have the Option of retiring from the

battlefield but instead must conquer evil anew.

After leaving the House of Holiness, Red Cross follows Una to her

parents' kingdom, where she challenges him:

Now are we come vnto my natiue soyle,

And to the place, where all our perils dwell;

Here haunts that feend, and does his dayly spoyle,
Thencefore henceforth be at your keeping well,
And euer ready for your foeman fell.

The sparke of noble courage now awake,

And striue your excellent selfe to excell;

That shall ye euermore renowmed make,

Aboue all knights on earth, that batteill vnde rtake.

(1. xi, 2)
Very significantly, however, Red Cross now issues an order to her:

Then bad the knight his Lady yede aloofe,
And to an hill her selfe with draw aside,
From whence she might behold that battailles proof
And eke be safe from daunger far descryde:
She him obayd, and turnd a little wyde.
(1, xi. 5)

thereby indicating that this is his battle and he no longer needs her direct

117
intervention. He either has absorbed his lessons and prepared himself
or he has not, as the eombat's outcome will show. His separation from
Una does not suggest that Red Cross now is self-sufficient, but rather
that he has risen above the immediate aid she could offer in this conflict;
his need for heavenly sustenance, the higher grace Spenser says always
is available, is great, as we see through the reviving powers of Una's
prayers and the "precious balm. "

Like Guyon, then, Red Cross accomplishes his ultimate task
essentially through his own merits; the Palmer's subtle net and Una's
devout prayers are necessary aids, but Guyon himself destroys the
Bower and Red Cross the dragon. Like the Palmer, too, Una gets in
the last word, as it were. The Palmer explains Grill's nature and
urges their departure, and Una defends Red Cross against Duessa's

false claims:

Then stepped forth the goodly royall Mayd,

And on the ground her selfe prostrating low,

With sober countenaunce thus to him sayd;

O pardon me, my soueraigne Lord, to show

The secret treasons, which of late I know

To haue bene wroght by that false sorceresse.

She onely she it is, that earst did throw

This gentle knight into so great distresse,

That death him did awaite in dayly wretchedne sse.

And now it seemes, that she suborned hath

This craftie messenger with letters vaine,

To worke new woe and improuided scath,

By breaking of the band betwixt vs twaine;

Wherein she vsed hath the practicke paine

Of this false footman, clokt with :-imp1enesse,

Whom if ye please for to discouer plaine,

Ye shall him Amhimaggfind, I ghesse,

The falsest man aliue; who tries shall find no le sse.
(I, xii, 33- 34)

118
Two aspects emerge from this passage: first, that Una still is Red
Cross' guide, still his intercessor, defender, and protector; and,
second, that Una also has profited from the quest, since she now is able
to distinguish hypocrisy.26 The victory of guide and quester thus is
mutual: Red Cross has defeated the dragon and Una has overcome naive
simplicity, at least in this instance.

Book I of The Faerie Queene illustrates the adaptation of the

 

orthodox guide convention established by Gilgamesh to Spenser's thematic

 

and structural demands. These adaptations are primarily the use of
false guides and the mutual dependency of quester and guide, adaptations
which suit the book '3 major themes. Spenser's consistent concern in
this section is the duality of experience, the shifting nature of perception
and action. He initiates this theme through the hero, an inexperienced

immature knight who must face the duality of the world in order to define

 

26 The end of Book I has proved perplexing to critics, particularly
Roger Sale. In the last stanza,

Her ioyous presence and sweet company

In full content he there did long enioy,

Ne wicked enuie, ne vile gealosy

His deare delights were able to annoy:

Yet swimming in that sea of blisfull ioy,

He nought forgot," how he whilome had sworne,

In case he could that monstrous beast destroy,

Vnto his Farie Queene backe to returne:

The which he shortly did, and Y2?- left to mourne.
(I, xii, 41)"

it seems to me that Spenser simply is stressing the theme of recurring
evil and continuing commitment to a higher purpose. The postlapsarian
Christian cannot rest with a single victory but again must face earthly
temptation and again affirm his virtue by triumphing over it.

119
his own nature. And, in making Red Cross figure Holiness, Spenser
opens a second theme, that of the recurrence of evil and its constant
temptation of the Christian; "holiness" is not a defined constant but
an evolving state of mind, soul, and behavior. Temperance consists
of observing excess and defect and then following the middle road;
holiness has no such signposts.

In his quest, however, Holiness does have need of Truth, and
thus Una's guidance is vital to Red Cross' development. But Truth
also is ambiguous and protean, as we see through the figure of Una.
Her name of course means "oneness" or unity, but she has many more
aspects. She shares, on an historical level, archetypal identification
with Beatrice, the Virgin, and the Pearl maiden, yet she does not
possess the power or direct heavenly access of a Beatrice or even the
Pearl maiden. In needing help from the lion, Satyrane, and Arthur,
Una seems to be a blueprint, a pattern; She contains all elements 12
pdtentia, represents a potential order in the universe, and is therefore
always incomplete. In her discouragement, her deception, by Archimago,
her unrelieved wanderings, perhaps we see as well a duality in her
nature, one side of the coin being wholeness or unity and the other
side a one-track mind unable to alter its naive perceptions. Often,
too, she seems to stand for the Church, an ambivalent institution
defined by those who control her. When in capable, beneficent hands,
she can work great good; when in corrupt or limited hands she is, at

best, impotent. Una thus needs Red Cross to protect her, to defend

120
her, to strengthen her favorable aspects.

In Book I, then, the quester and primary guide are intrinsic to
thematic development. The auxiliary guides, both false and true, also
serve this function. Archimago and Duessa illustrate the duality of
experience in their role as character shadows of Red Cross, Arthur,
and Una and in their use of right means to wrong ends. Arthur, a
type of Christ, is thematically necessary to Show that Truth or Una is
impotent. The various substitute guides in the House of Holiness also
illustrate this impotence; Una knows what must be done to restore Red
Cross and the means to accomplish it, but she cannot effect it herself.

Structurally Spenser's use of guide figures in Book I provides the
same unity and consistency it does in Book H. Una's presence and
reactions measure Red Cross' growth; when he disobeys or abandons
her he faces defeat, and when he obeys or follows her he approaches
victory. Because her nature is dual and undefined, however, the reader
also must rely on the reactions of auxiliary guides. Thus when Red
Cross is allowed entrance to a hallowed place or passed from one guide
to a higher power, we know that his behavior is proper and he has
absorbed his lesson. Conversely, when he willfully follows a false
guide and gains approval there, we sense his quest has regressed. Taken
together, the various guides form a pattern in the hero's development.

It is not a linear pattern, as in Book H or Gilgamesh, but, because of

 

the thematic nature of the hero and his quest, a forward-backward-

forward movement, an alternating progress which produces an even

121

greater need for the standard provided by guide figures.

In Book I Spenser uses guide figures to develOp and illustrate
his themes, which in turn motivate the narrative. For example, the
concept of the dual nature of experience demands and explains much of
Duessa's and even Una's behavior. Once the theme has been graSped,
the narrative makes sense on its own terms. Red Cross' visit to the
House of Pride, his experiences there, and his rapid departure need no
fuller explanation than the narrative itself provides. In Book H, however,
the narrative does not motivate itself. The action instead is dictated
by thematic necessities and requires supplementary information to be
understood. Spenser uses the guide-leader to provide that information.

Guyon's encounter with Furor and Occasion is a case in point. On
the narrative level we see a compassionate Guyon, without thought of
personal danger, rush to champion a fallen youth. He fiercely attacks
an appropriate foe--temperance should fight excessive wrath-~yet is
degraded and nearly defeated for his apparently laudable behavior.
Suddenly he turns to bind a vocal old hag, Occasion, and then is able to
overcome Furor. Without the Palmer's explication the narrative is
not coherent; there is no internal explanation of the events and their
meaning. From the Palmer we learn that Guyon's impulsive involvement
in the fight shows condemnable intemperance; Phedon's willful intemper-
ance does not deserve pity; Occasion provokes Furor and must be
eliminated first; and good intentions do not justify immoderate means.

This representational quality of the narrative, the one-to-one

122
correspondence between subject and representation, makes the guide
figure a necessity to the clarity of Book H of The Faerie Queene. In

Piers Plowman, William Langland produces a similar representational

 

quality, incidents whose meaning is not revealed through the events
themselves, but he does not provide a consistent guide figure to
explicate that meaning. The result, as we shall see in the next chapter,
is structural chaos for the poem and interpretive confusion for the

reader.

CHAPTER III

AN INCONSISTENT NARRATIVE STRUCTURE: PIERS PLOWMAN

 

Spenser's The Faerie Queene and William Langland's Piers Plowman

 

 

share several characteristics, the primary one being a complex and
diversified narrative fabric. Both works portray a multitude of figures,
incidents, and settings. Both works, too, are instructional: Spenser's
intention is to fashion a gentleman and Langland's, apparently, to fashion
a Christian layman in a Christian society. A similar theological and
ethical framework, a spiritually-ordered world fraught with omnipresent
temptation to evil, surrounds each poem. Both include quests, journeys
to save the quester's soul and to perfect him in virtue. Each poem
likewise uses the allegorical modes of personation and figurationl to
present its virtues, its vices, and its hero's internal conflicts.

The comparison, however, between The Faerie Queene and Piers

 

Plowman ends with these similarities. Whereas Spenser's treatment
and techniques are highly sophisticated and benefit from a long tradition

of belles lettres, Langland's often are naive, stemming from the observa-

 

tions of an unlettered man. The Faerie Queene has a clear thematic

 

 

1 For an explanation of these terms, see pp. 129- 130 below.

123

124
development, with Spenser's major themes amplified rather than obscured

by less important ideas. In Piers Plowman Langland observes no hierarchy

 

of themes; thus a minor digression frequently overshadows the broader
concept which it was invented to illustrate. Spenser's characters main-
tain a consistent value; although ramifications of their natures emerge

as they are placed in new situations, the abstract concepts which they
embody do not shift throughout the narrative. The meaning of Langland's
characters, however, often contains ambiguities and contradictions;

one character may personify several internal qualities which are not
necessarily compatible with or logically related to each other. Finally,

we have seen Books I and II of The Faerie Queene to be structurally

 

coherent, unified by the quest motif, the hero, and the guide figures.
The structure of P__i_e_1;§ is episodic, often without thematic or narrative
connectives; its quest, hero, and guide figures often fragment rather
than unify the narrative structure.

The preceding comparison implies the major difficulty of ESE
Plowman, its diffuseness. Diversified in theme, time, space, character-
ization, plot sequence, and the metaphorical or figurative level of
meaning, the poem lacks a coherent and consistent narrative structure.
Ironically, the remedy of this diffuseness is available within the poem
itself in the structural motifs which Langland introduces and in the
figures of Holicherche and Piers. Both characters suggest some
knowledge on Langland's part of the guide convention. Had he extended

his use of that convention to provide structural unity, as Spenser and

125

Dante did, Piers Plowman undoubtedly would have been a more sustained

 

and comprehensible product.

My contention that the primary difficulty of Pdgdis structural
rather than thematic or textual has not been shared by the critics, most
of whom have approached the poem in terms of meaning, text, or genre.
After defending their interpretations these critics also have felt impelled
to prove through their approach the poem's inherent unity. These
studiously casual testimonials to gig} coherency simply reinforce
one's suspicions about its actual and pervasive presence.

Dunning, for example, believes that Langland has organized the
poem around the concepts of the active, contemplative, and mixed life;
while Robertson and Huppe’ see the entire poem as a patterned contrast
between an ideal and its medieval corruption. That contrast is embodied
in the dreamer, Wille, "one the chief means by which the poet achieves

coherence in Piers Plowman. In what Wille does and in his reactions are

 

developed the progressive contrasts which contribute materially to the
structural integrity of the poem. "2 Coghill, who agrees with Dunning
that the poem's theme is the three modes of life, sees the character
Piers as the unifying agent because "to be Piers is to do well or to do
better or to do best . . , once this is recognized and applied to the

visions as a whole, the poem becomes harmonious and consistent,

 

2 D.W. Robertson, Jr., and Bernard F. Huppe’, Piers Plowman
and Scriptural Tradition (Princeton, N.J . , 1951), p. 244.

 

 

126
declaring itself logically, as well as psychologically, a unity. "
Wells, in a careful and informative study, attempts to give the poem
structural unity by establishing parallels between sections of the
V_is_id_and 1113, each of which he divides into three corresponding units.
He is left, however, with the lack of linear progression in Wille's
search for Do-Well, a structure which does not parallel its Vd§i_9_
counterpart; his specious explanation that Wille's circular arguments
are necessary to prevent the reader's being bored by didacticism
somewhat reduces his thesis. Lawler's argument is equally fragile;
he notes that 1331s has no formal structural unity, but contends that it
has an "imaginative unity" through the dreamer's persistent attempts
to ratiocinate instead of simply to live the Christian life; that is, the
poem's unity lies in Wille's po_t getting any answers.

Several critics too have approached the problem of unity through
genre, hoping that an identification of Langland's literary model will
aid interpretation. Robertson and HuppeI believe that Langland's method
was based on Biblical exegesis with its four levels of meaning and thus
freely interpret most episodes allegorically, historically, trOpologically,
and anagogically. Frank suggests, with much validity, that an allegorical
narrative is vague and complex enough without the absurdity of four

additional interpretations. Coghill calls it an "organic" allegory, a term

 

3 Nevill K. Coghill, "The Character of Piers Plowman Considered
from the B Text," Medium Aevum, H(1933), 112.

 

 

127
which escapes definition but which he evidently finds more satisfying

than "a pleasing formal artifice" like The Faerie Queene. Finally,

 

in one of the most constructive recent studies, Bloomfield suggests that
_P_i_e_1_'_s_is in the apocalyptic genre but Shares elements of the dream
vision and quest motifs. He does not delve very deeply into how Langland
actually uses these forms—-his stylistic and structural methods--but his
approach is a necessary first step into unexplored territory. 4

None of the criticism, then, is devoted to a detailed analysis of

the structure of Piers Plowman. Ironically, that neglected structure is

 

responsible for much of the contradictory speculation about the poem's
meaning, much of the almost frenetic search for hidden meanings, when
the primary problem is that Langland's structure has obscured the
salient meaning. I do not intend to suggest that the preceding studies,
among others, are irrelevant; indeed, they are most helpful in thematic

and historical interpretation, but we need to analyze further Piers'

 

narrative structure and the lapses in it.

 

4 See T. P. Dunning, "Structure of the B Text of Piers Plowman,"
The Review of English Studiesj VH (1956), 225-237; and Piers Plowman:
An Interpretation of the A- Text (London, 1937); Henry W. Wells, "The
Construction of Piers Plowman, " PMLA, XLIV (1929), 123- 140; John L.
Lawlor, "The Imaginative Unity of Piers Plowman, " The Review of
English Studies, VIII (1957), 113-126; Robert Worth Frank, Jr. , "The
Art of Reading Medieval Personification-Allegory, " ELH, XX (1953),
237-250; and Piers Plowman and the Scheme of Salvation: An Interpreta-
tion of Dowel, Dobet, and Dobest (New Haven, Conn. , 1957); and
Morton W. Bloomfield, Piers Plowman as a Fourteenth- Century
Apocalypse (New Brunswick, N.J . , 1962).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

128

As it stands, the poem is a two-part quest undertaken by a semi-
literate rustic. The first section, or the \Liiid, is a dream vision of
various forms of temporal corruption, with the dreamer in quest for
Truth. 5 Moving from the fair field full of folk to Westminster to Court
to church to the fair field and to a banquet hall, this quest is earth-
centered. The second section, the dreamer's search for Do-Well, Do-
Betfielj, and Do-Best, includes the same area but also portrays
Jerusalem and Hell. Although temporal abuses are presented, this
second quest is concerned primarily with the dreamer's salvation and,
through him, that of society.

The structural pattern of Piers Plowman is formed of three

 

elements: the dream vision; the use of personification; and the quest.

Like The Pearl or the book of Revelation, much of the poem's action

 

occurs within the dreamer's unconscious, thus liberating the author
from logical transitions through time and space. This freedom of
movement is initiated in the poem's first lines, a conventional opening
for a dream vision:

In a somer seson whan soft was the sonne,

I shope me in shroudes as I a shepe were,

In habite as an hermite vnholy of workes,
Went wyde in this world wondres to here.

 

5 References to Piers Plowman, incorporated in my text, are to
William Langland, The Vision of William Concerning Piers the Plowman
tggether with Richard the Redeless, ed. the Reverend Walter W. Skeat,

2 vols. (London, 1886), B-text, passus and line numbers. Skeat's
capitalization of abstracts is not based on the manuscripts and thus cannot
be considered a reliable indicator of whether Langland means to suggest
the concept or the personification of it.

 

 

 

129
Ac on a May mornynge on Maluerne hulles
Me byfel a ferly of fairy me thou3te;
I was wery forwandred and went me to reste
Vnder a brode banke bi a bornes side,
And as I lay and lened and loked in the wateres,
I slombred in a slepyng it sweyued so merye.

Thanne gan I to meten a merueilouse sweuene,
That I was in a wildernesse wist I neuer where.

( Prologue, 1- 12)

The May morning, the stream which separates natural from supernatural
experience, and the dream itself all are traditional elements of a dream
vision. They serve to "cue" the reader that what follows may be foreign
and dislocated because it takes place within the dreamer's mind and is
a spiritual rather than sensible perception.

The second structural element is Langland's use of personification,
a process of externalizing abstract, interior qualities. Wille's internal
conflicts and characteristics, as well as those of society at large, are
made visible to the reader by attaching these conceptual entities to
"bodies, " or acting, speaking characters. 6 To clarify our later analysis
of Langland's personifications, we should define here the two metaphorical
levels, one more apparent and one less apparent, on which Langland
operates. The first technique is personation, endowing an abstract
quality with specific characteristics. Personification is the least

complex form of personation, for it simply makes the word flesh, or

 

6 Robert Worth Frank, Jr. , in "The Art of Reading Medieval
Personification-Allegory" (note 4 above), realizes the need for a working
terminology of allegorical methods. "Allegory, " in its broad use, is
no more helpful in characterizing the genre or the poet's methods than
are "lyric, " "romance, " or similar catch-alls. Professor Arnold
Williams has suggested the breakdown of "allegory" presented below; to
me, his distinctions seem quite helpful.

130
gives a body to an idea. Its area of operation is limited to characteristic,
exemplary, and symbolic actions; its one-to-one relationship, idea to
body, does not permit ambiguity and diversity of motive or behavior
without causing interpretive confusion for the reader. Generics, or
class personations which reduce a social unit to an individual representa-
tive, like Everyman or Chaucer's Miller; and cue-name personations,
metaphors which do not state the abstraction but give the reader a
"cue" to the nature Of the character, like Duessa or Sansloy, are other
forms of personation.

Figuration is the opposite technique from personation; it consists
of endowing a specific figure with abstract qualities, linking historical
events or personages into one generalization. We also have spacial
and object figurations, where the location or object takes on abstract,
diagrammatic correspondences. Thus Dante's Virgil, Spenser's
Prince Arthur, and Archimago's cave are in the figurative mode. Some
merging of personation and figuration is inevitable in an extended poetic
treatment, but figuration is a more functional tool, since figures can
hold multiple or ambiguous reference while personations are limited to
the single concept which they embody. Giving multiple meanings to a
personation, as we shall see, only produces confusion.

Langland's third structural element is the quest motif, the spiritual
education of an individual in a journey through space. Although the
significance Of this quest and its extensiveness have been questioned by

the critics, no one has doubted its presence. In his initial dream on the

131
Malvern Hills, Wille sees a vision of the Tower of Truth, the
Dungeon of Hell, and the earth's "fair field"; the alternatives, salvation
and damnation, which follow from the earthly abuses and overindulgences
are made clear to him. His reaction to this vision and consequent plea
to Holicherche, "
Thanne I courbed on my knees and cryed hir of grace,
And preyed hir pitousely prey for my synnes,
And also kenne me kyndeli on criste to bileue,
That I mi3te worchen his wille that wrou3te me to man;
"Teche me to no tresore but telle me this ilke,
"How I may saue my soule that seynt art yholden?"
(i, 79- 84)
suggests the purpose and direction of his quest.

These three elements, the dream vision, personification, and quest

motif, are the potential basis for structural unity in Piers Plowman.

 

We have seen in such diverse works as Gilgamesh, The Divine Comedy,

 

and The Faerie Queene all three successfully effecting that unity.

 

Spenser relies on his hero's ultimate spiritual goal and his continual
progress toward it--the quest motif--to underlie and relate divergent
episodes. The consistent abstract value of his personations prevents
interpretive confusion as well as supplies a unity of technique. Dante
unites shifting locales and diverse characters from historically distinct
epochs by placing the entire poem in the dreamer's imagination. The
Pe_a._r_l_poet, too, justifies his dreamer's uneven perception, the sudden
bursts of awareness which penetrate his consciousness; and makes

credible his neglect of temporal and spacial unity through the dream

132

framework. Even the uneven fabric of Gilgamesh, produced by lost

 

tablets and lost meanings, is controlled by the quest motif; our aware-
ness that Gilgamesh is searching for personal and political salvation
suspends our disbelief at the poem's inconsistencies and forces us to
view digressions and fragments within the larger perspective of the
quest.

Langland, however, maintains none of the three structural motifs

which he has introduced; and the difficulties of Piers Plowman evolve

 

precisely from that failure to keep to the structure, as we shall see.

I shall first discuss the various breaks in structure and then suggest

their consequent effect on the poem itself. The first hiatus is in the

dream framework. Evidently Langland intended most of the poem to

be a dream vision, but there are disconcerting lapses in its chronology.
Although Wille falls asleep ten times and awakens eleven, Langland
confuses the proper order to awaken him when he already is awake

and put him to Sleep when he already is asleep. He apparently has used
dreams within dreams and waking dreams, but which is never clear.

After Wille first falls asleep in the Malvern Hills (Prol. , 1- 12), he dreams
until the procession reaches court, where he awakens to listen to Reason
and Conscience preach before the king. He awakens a second time, 7

only to fall asleep to dream of a second sermon by Reason (v, 1-12).

The proper order of waking and dreaming then is followed until Passus

 

7 This first awakening, Passus vi, 1-5, of the C-text, is Skeat's
emendation; the passage dovetails with Passus iv and v of the B-text
and is not repeated in the B-text.

133

xi, 4-7, when Wille, who has not awakened, falls more deeply asleep,
perhaps indicating a dream within a dream. Following his dream tour
of Middle Earth he is awakened twice (xi, 395- 397; xiii, 1-4), one
assumes because of the double dream. In Passus xvi, 18-21, there
also seems to be a dream within a dream. He already is asleep, but
the sound of Piers' name produces a deeper sleep:

"Piers the Plowman!" quod I tho and al for pure ioye

That I herde nempne his name anone I swounded after,

And laye longe in a lone dreme and atte laste me thou3te,

That Pieres the Plowman al the place me shewed .

(xvi, 18-21)

However, Wille only awakens once from this double dream (xvi, 167-
171), and the normal alternation of awakening and sleeping continues
until the poem's conclusion. The reader, of course, is more confused
than Wille, because the ability to discriminate between reality and
fantasy is somewhat basic to the poem's theme. Unless one knows
what Wille saw and what he imagined, unless one can distinguish earthly
observation from divine vision, the poem's spiritual import is blurred.

This confusion in the dream framework also adds to the poem's
geographical difficulties and, consequently, to the physical progress of
the quest. Because we cannot distinguish between Wille's waking and
dreaming states, we cannot determine which settings are perceived by

the senses and which imagined. Paradise Lost and The Divine Comedy

 

 

are cartographers' masterpieces compared to Piers' haphazard

localizations. Langland has set the poem variously in a field, court,

134
church, banquet hall, "middle earth, " road, Hell, and J erusalem-—the
known universe. Some of the settings are vivid; one does not forget
Gluttony's lair or Piers' tree. But other locales, like Hell and the fair
field, are vaguely pictured, and because related through a dream frame-
work, may or may not have any more external reality than such meta-
phorical sites as Meekness and Gentle Speech. 8 For example, in
Passus i Wille sees a tower, which Holicherche identifies as the Tower
of Truth located within his own heart. In Passus v, 517-519, Piers
tries to lead a thousand-member throng to Truth. Apparently a figurative
location, the tower nevertheless is sometimes external and visible,
sometimes internal and invisible. Since Langland does not describe
these settings, it is even more difficult to gauge Wille's progress; he
mysteriously springs from one site to another, spanning the globe and
boggling the reader's mind.

Within his grasp, then, Langland has a method of unifying the
poem, a method compatible with his eclectic and ingenuous perception.
The dream vision, in its dislocation from temporal and spacial logic,
gives him greater scope and freedom than any other form, but he fails
to adapt its flexibility to his purposes.

The second structural element which Langland uses is personifica-

tion, and this technique also fails to work for his benefit. The first

 

8 A concept can be personified as a place as well as a person.
The localized personification does not hold the multiple reference of a
spacial figuration (see p. 130 above), and its use thus is rather
limited.

135
problem is to determine which personages are mimetic, which figurative,
and which both. The second problem is to determine which exist
internally, which externally, and which both, in relation to the dreamer.
Langland, in other words, has mixed his allegorical modes and methods.
To him, no gulf exists between the concrete and the abstract; his
childlike and untrained mind switches from one to the other without
transition. He has created personifications, which are visualized
concepts, but endowed them with representational qualities like a non-
metaphoric name. He has used the same name for a figure, a
personification, and an unembodied abstract, without distinguishing when
each aspect is in operation. He has applied the mode of personification
to both naive and saphisticated concepts; the effect is a leveling of
both abstracts, as the simple concept gains an unsubstantiated complexity
of meaning and the sophisticated value loses its diversity of reference.
Spenser has coped with the distinction more effectively, as we have seen.
When he wants to convey historical, figurative, and representational
values he uses a figure, like Prince Arthur, whose conceptual value is
not limited by his name. When he wants to convey a less diversified
meaning, he uses a personification like Mercy, who stands only for
that single idea. Finally, Langland apparently has given two names
and "bodies" to one idea, or else he has changed names in midstream:
"Soothnesse" and "Truth" share a metaphoric value, as do "Falsenesse"
and "Fals."

The following examples are a brief illustration of the confusion

136
which results from Langland's merging one allegorical mode into
another without a conscious use of rhetoric. Robert the Robber (v, 469)
appears with the Seven Deadly Sins; he apparently is a generic personation,
the sins pure personifications. Robert, however, also figures Dismas,
the repentent thief, and thus Langland has combined personification
with generic personation with typology; the effect is to obscure the
ethical point which Robert represents.

Reason first appears as an external personification riding with
Conscience to court (iv, 24). He next is robed like a pope, preaching
before the king on proper public behavior (v, 11). From this social
and universal role Reason next moves inside Wille, telling him to mind
his own business and to control his tongue (xi, 419), and then completely
. disappears from the poem. Langland apparently has used one term,
"reason, " for both a personification and an unembodied abstract, and
he does not distinguish one from the other. Unlike Spenser, Langland
also has tried to include all the applications of Reason. The Palmer
is defined in terms of Guyon and temperance; I_3_ier_s' Reason is presented
in its public, private, external, and internal aspects, none of which
Langland makes concrete or visual. Because we are not sure of Reason's
inherent value, we cannot tell if he is a valid authority for Wille; if
he changes during the quest and thus indicates Wille's progress; or,
through his absence from the last eight passus, if he suggests the chaos
of society and the disorder within the dreamer.

Conscience produces similar confusion. In Passus i Holicherche

137
defines Conscience as the natural knowledge in Wille's heart, yet Sir
Conscience appears in Passus iii as an external reality. The externaliza-
tion of Wille's personal state cannot be the only aspect of Conscience,
however, since the figure also appears to the king, the court, other
personifications, and society at large, completely independent of Wille.
Obviously Conscience shares the dual public and private aspects of
Reason, but these aspects and their alternations within the poem are
not clarified. Conscience is a personification, but a very complex one
which exemplifies a diffusion of abstracts. Not just a faculty of the
individual soul, it is an attitude toward life and provides a variety of
responses to a variety of situations. Conscience, in its flexibility,
thus would have made an excellent guide figure for Wille and still
allowed Langland his diversity and scope.

One figure's serving various functions is a consistent interpretive
difficulty. Langland often intends a single personification to value
several concepts, but he does not provide a standard to identify which
idea he represents at which point in the narrative. Thus grouped under
the general abstract of faith is Good Faith in Passus xi, who tells
Wille to preach on church abuses; Abraham (xvi), a figure who historically
illustrates faith; and Faith in its linkage with Hope and Charity (xviii).
These three aspects cannot be embodied in one figure; the Faith who
is Abraham in Passus xvi cannot be the same Faith who explains Christ's
entry to Jerusalem in Passus xviii, since the entrance precedes the

Harrowing of Hell and Abraham is in Hell.

138

Likewise, Truth moves from a tower to a castle, localized

personations; to an abstract unembodied ideal; to a personification.

At various times it is seen by other figures, unseen, verbal, and

silent. One also faces the problem of Anima, who appears as Wille's
soul. Anima defines itself as life, soul, mind, memory, reason, sense,
conscience, amor, and spirit (xv, 23- 39); some of these ideals have
appeared earlier as personifications, some are only abstracts, some
embody various other concepts.

In light of the allegorical modes discussed earlier in this chapter,
we can see that Langland has shifted the internal value of his personifica-
tions, a process which only produces confusion. When a personification,
through its name and initial actions or speech, suggests one concept,
we expect it to hold that concept whenever it reappears; thus Holicherche's
transformation from a lady to a disembodied concept and Truth's .
movement from a tower to a personage, alterations accomplished without
any transition, merely perplex the reader instead of enhance abstract
meaning. The solution, of course, is either to use figures or else to
limit the meaning of the personifications, as Dante and Spenser have done.
Virgil, as an historical figure, can stand for several abstract concepts
without producing contradictions in his metaphorical value; he is the
enlightened pagan, the unredeemed heathen, the ideal artist, and the
moral man. Alternatively, Spenser's Medina, the personification of
the golden mean, never shifts to symbolize reason or faith; other

characters are created to externalize those ideals.

139

We can infer from the preceding discussion what effect Langland's
failure to maintain his dream framework and personifications has on the
quest motif. The usual linear progression and its resultant structural
order dissolve, since we do not know the quester's location, his state
of consciousness, or the value of the figures whom he meets. Bloom—
field senses this deviation from the quest pattern, but he attributes it
to Langland's intention rather than to his mismanagement. He sees
Wille's quest as a theme or a dominant image, but not as a genre or
motif, and concludes that, "Part of the problem of Will is actually to
find an authority, and his quest is not only for perfection but for some-
one who can lead him to perfection, until finally he realizes that only
Piers himself can."9

I rather think that Wille is questing for perfection and Langland
for an authority to guide his poem. The element he needs to unify his
structure and to heal the breaks in his framework is the guide convention,
a device which provides episodic continuity and thematic coherency.
Langland has approached this structural remedy in the figures of
Holicherche and Piers. Both embody aspects of the guide convention,
both are suited to instruct the dreamer, but neither is crystallized as
a figure nor maintained throughout the poem.

In the \Lis_io, or first six passus, Wille dreams of a fair field of

folk and seeks an interpretation of this vision. In accordance with the

 

9 Morton W. Bloomfield, "Piers Plowman as a Fourteenth-
Century Apocalypse, " The Centennial Review of Arts and Science,
V (1961), 294. See also Piers Plowman as a Fourteenth-Century
Apocalypse (note 4 above), pp. 3, 9.

 

 

 

 

140
dream convention, a guide or interpreter appears in the person of
Holicherche, described only vaguely as a lovely lady clothed in linen.
She explains part of his dream,
Sone, slepestow sestow this poeple,

How bisi thei ben abouten the mase ?

The moste partie of this poeple that passeth on this erthe,

Haue thei worschip in this worlde thei wilne no better

Of other heuene than here holde thei no tale.
(1: 5'9)

but then goes on to teach him how to distinguish true from false:

Leue not thi likam for a lyer him techeth,

That is the wrecched worlde wolde the bitraye.

For the fende and thi flesch folweth the to—gidere,

This and that sueth thi soule and seith it in thin herte;

And for thow sholdest ben ywar I wisse the the beste.

(i, 38- 42)

When Wille asks her how he can save his soul, one assumes that his
spiritual quest with Holicherche as his guide has begun. Not at all,
however, for after she has given him Christian rules to live by, she
tells him to look to the Lord and disappears without Specifically entrusting
his quest to a second guide, as Virgil entrusted Dante to Beatrice and
she passed him on to Saint Bernard.

Although not a very imaginative creation, Holicherche is a.
personification and a possible guide figure, qualified by her divine
authority. The only information Langland gives about her is her

lovely countenance, her linen clothing, and her parentage as a daughter

of God; she consequently does not become a vivid character to the reader,

141
but since she belongs to the Virgin- Beatrice-Pearl maiden archetype,
which we have seen Spenser apply to Una, Langland's sparse details
probably are enhanced by association. In many respects she functions
as a guide, for she interprets the dream, advises a course of life,
reproaches and ridicules the dreamer, answers his questions, and tells
him where to go and how to behave to receive further knowledge: She
also has the authority, scope, and, presumably, the power, to supervise
any number of Wille's activities; since the influence of the Roman Church
extends throughout the universe and throughout time as well, she has no
inherent territorial or temporal limitations.

The problem with Holicherche, however, is this very scope.
Langland stresses the abuses of church power and the fallibility of
institutional authority; since he has chosen to treat these negative
aspects of Holicherche, he must somehow separate the divine institution
from her minions in order to make her a reliable, worthy guide. This
separation apparently is beyond his power, for the unresolved duality
of Holicherche enters as early as Passus i, 20, when she displays a
most mortal and female jealousy of Lady Meed. A dual nature is
immediately comprehensible in a character named "Duessa, " and
ambiguity is expected in personifications like Nature or Fortune,
ambiguous in their basic natures. But Holicherche, created directly
from the godhead, must reflect her origins; if her speech or behavior
lapses into the munchne, some explanation or delineation of these

conflicting aspects must be supplied to preserve the personification's

142

value, and this Langland fails to supply. Perhaps realizing his potential
problem and unwilling to sacrifice his satire of church corruption, he
abandons Holicherche as a figure. By the end of the second passus the
personification has been reduced to its abstract value; any further
reference Langland makes to Holicherche apparently is to the institution,
not to the personification, and we do not see her again.

Thus Wille's quest is halted as soon as begun, for throughout the
Lady Meed incident he is only an observer. With the return to the fair
field full of folk in Passus v, however, a second possible guide figure
enters in Piers the Plowman.10 Inspired by Reason and Hope to seek
Truth, the folk ask a passing pilgrim to guide them, but he has never
heard of Truth. Piers has knowledge of Truth through Conscience and
Natural Wit (v, 544) and thus is qualified and willing to be their guide,
after they plow his field. Piers not only is called a guide but fits many
of the criteria. Suited by both prior experience and divine authority,
he can direct the pilgrims physically, although through metaphorical
locations; and he can devise an improved way of life for the wasters.
Several major problems, however, present themselves with Piers as
guide: he consults Hunger at length (vi, 204), whereas the guide usually

needs little advice to carry out his purpose, and then from a source

 

10 Note the perplexing problem which appears in Passus vi of the

C-text; the situation of dreamer asking for spiritual guidance is repeated

as in Passus ii of the B-text, but Reason instead of Holicherche here

serves as the guide figure. Reason and Conscience have not been considered
as possible guide figures for the reasons stated above; their presence in

the poem is relatively constant, but the question of whether they are internal,
external, reliable, unreliable, public, or private is too tenuous for

interpretive purposes.

143
more spiritual than physical; he gradually fades into either Christ
Himself or else Saint Peter (xvi), whereas the guide figure usually is
a mortal intercessor to the divinity; and the dreamer Wille apparently
is an observer of the group of sinners rather than the active participant
he should be were he following Holicherche's advice. Unless one can
come to terms with a character who vacillates among being a plowman,
a knight, and a deity, unless one can resolve the problem of a deity's
following Hunger's advice, Piers is not a reliable figure either, in
terms of the quest's continuity. 11 Langland again has mixed his modes
without providing transition. Like Dante's Virgil, Piers is a figure,
a type of Christ or Peter, as well as a representational character, a
plowman named Piers. He also is a generic personation of the honest
laborer. Langland's failure to clarify which aspect is operating on
Wille at a particular time further confuses our perception of Wille's
spiritual progress.

The Vi_s_.i_o, then, includes a dream vision of the fair field; the
character of Wille the dreamer; his alleged quest to save his soul; and
two possible primary guide figures, Holicherche and Piers. Like Una's
entrusting Red Cross to Mercy and Mercy's leading him to Heavenly
Contemplation, we might expect Holicherche to introduce Wille to

Piers, Wille to join the company of pilgrims, and Piers to lead them

 

11 See E. Talbot Donaldson, Piers Plowman: The C-Text and
Its Poet (New Haven, Conn. , 1949), Chapter vi, for an interpretation
of the character Piers which takes into consideration all of these
possible aspects.

 

144
to Truth's castle. If such is Langland's intention, we know it only by
vaguest implication. Holicherche becomes the institution; Piers is
Christ; and Wille sets off on a personal quest for Do—Well, Do-Better,
and Do-Best where he is participant as well as observer. In this
search for a Christian way of life, which occupies the remainder of the
poem, Wille has no guide, instead asking questions of a variety of
personifications and figurations. Langland, however, does not organize
these embodied abstracts into a guide series, with one figure leading
Wille to the next. There is no apparent thematic order to the characters
he meets: Thought follows the Friars; Nature and Reason frequently
interrupt; Lust-of—the-eyes comforts him after Scripture. Some attempt
is made for one personification to get Wille to a second, but the
connections are not psychologically or theologically understandable; and
when a character rejoins Wille, as is often the case, it need not hold
the same qualities it did on first meeting. The relation of the characters

to either each other or to Wille's education is not clear. In The Faerie

 

911363113 we saw Red Cross absorb the teachings of Faith, then move to
Hope, and finally meet Charity, who takes him to Mercy; the series
indicates both Red Cross' spiritual progress as well as a hierarchy of
values, each successive figure strengthening the quester's faith as well
as surpassing the preceding figure's power. In these last fourteen
passus of Pigs, however, the guide series is almost completely drapped
in favor of the dialogue and debate form, with Langland using a multitude

of characters and situations. The result is interpretive chaos, for the

145
reader has little means of determining what Wille has understood and
what value it holds for his quest and the poem's themes.

The primary effect of Langland's failure to maintain the relation-
ship between Wille and the possible guide figures is on the dreamer
himself and the thematic concerns he represents. We have seen how
Spenser uses the Palmer to reveal, by contrast with the standard he
himself exemplifies, Guyon's nature, his progressive spiritual develop-
ment, and his ultimate maturity. Langland's guide figures, because
they are not fully developed and because they function sporadically,
throw the character of Wille into greater flux.

First the lapses in the guide series further hinder the shifting
relation between Wille's role as dreamer and his role as commentator.
Langland has not isolated the narrative, point-of-view function in a
separate voice, instead combining poet-narrator-quester-dreamer in
Wille. Wille's perceptiveness and intellectual competence remain
protean throughout. In the Prologue a mimetic portrait of the dreamer
as a hermit- shepherd, a lean lunatic fellow in the crowd, is initiated.
The dichotomy which plagues the entire poem also is established: at
one point long Wille is the astute political commentator, self-assured
in his analysis; and at other points he is the dreamer who understands
nothing he has heard or seen. In Passus i this dual role continues; a
single character, Wille, obviously here functioning as narrator, offers
to explain his dream to the reader, yet the same Wille must look to

Holicherche a few lines later for the explanation he before has claimed

146

to possess. These roles alternate throughout Piers Plowman, with

 

Wille fluctuating among narrator, dreamer, observer, participant,
and spiritual authority.

With this confusion between Wille the dreamer and Wille the
narrator comes a confusion in tone. The reader is seldom sure whether
an assured homily by Wille should be believed and, if so, what meaning
this assuredness has to Wille's spiritual quest. Such a homily could
indicate an interjection by Langland, a plateau of knowledge reached
by the quester, or a serious breach of humility by the Spiritually
degenerate Wille. Thus we do not know whether Wille's jesting to Anima
in Passus xv, 40-49 signals his impiousness or the author's attempt at
humor, or both. We do not know, because the narrator and dreamer
are not separate, whether Wit's lecture to Wille on the value of marriage
in Passus ix, 107- 198 and the domestic quarrel between Wit and his wife
Study juxtaposed in Passus x, 4— 141 are to be taken as irony. We do not
know what relevance the interspersed passages on church and political
abuses hold for Wille's personal quest, whether his perception of this
corruption indicates progress or simply a move into the narrator's role.

Another effect on the dreamer of Langland's inability to adhere
to the guide convention is our complete inability to gauge his progress;
the coherent linear movement of a quest has evaporated through the
absence of any consistent standard of direction and measurement. Dante
and Spenser "build" their quests through the guide figures, who measure

each successive action of the quester, alter or approve it, and then

147

pass him to the next test; their allowing the quester to continue thus
supplies the forward pace of both narrative structure and theme. But
without a guide, Langland's dreamer does not steadily move from a
state of spiritual degeneracy to a state of grace and illumination. Instead,
he vacillates, at times totally oblivious to his errors, at times totally
convinced of his theological authority. In Passus i he desperately asks,
"How can I save my soul?" and is at a loss how to proceed. By Passus
iii he has interrupted the lesson he was instructed to observe to charge
readers not to be immodest and officials not to abuse lucre. Still self-
confident in Passus vii he passes judgment on the value of pardons as
opposed to a life of Do-Well, but juxtaposes that idea with the statement
he did not understand what he observed and does not expect clarification
in the future. This unlearned man, having resolved the weighty question
of church authority versus personal integrity, cannot fathom man's
need to employ free will and intelligence by Passus viii. After forty-
five years corruption in following Lust-of—the-eyes, he feels competent
to lecture a friar on burial fee abuses. Cleansed and restored in
Passus xviii by a vision of the Passion, he immediately falls asleep
during Easter Mass.

Instead of the dreamer's absorbing knowledge and then moving to
a new sphere of ignorance, we find his observing a series of events,
claiming lack of understanding, wandering without direction for a number
of years, and then observing similar events, apparently unenlightened

by his vision. In various passus, the dreamer cites his ignorance, his

148
idleness, his religious affiliation, and the corrupt world as cause for
his journey, but at no time is the reader certain how far Wille has come
to solving each of these problems or how far he yet has to go.

The preceding interpretive difficulties could have been resolved
had Langland maintained his initial use of the guide convention. A
consistent guide figure's evaluation of various speakers and their
statements would give the reader a standard. A qualified guide also
could be used to measure the dreamer's spiritual journey; were Piers,
for example, to approve Wille's dissatisfaction with Thought, one would
know how much progress Wille had made in distinguishing the truth.

As the poem stands, one has little idea what Wille absorbed, how much
improvement he made, or whose theological interpretations to accept.
A guide would provide a needed synthesis to the divergent theses and
antitheses.

Theoretical and unconstructive as the preceding criticism may be,
in terms of interpreting the poem's meaning, the fact that Langland was
familiar with the guide convention is significant. From internal evidence,
we can conclude that he must have had some slight contact with two aspects
of the guide figure: first, the guide as interpreter of visions; and, second,
the guide as leader of pilgrims. One suspects that the former had a
Biblical source and the latter its roots in folklore or actual practice.

If Langland were using a model for the guide figures, and here one
is on shaky factual ground, it probably was the book of Revelation. His

tendency, like John's, is to use voices from heaven or convenient

149

personages wherever theological or narrative gaps appear. When
Langland wants to discuss the trinity, he makes Faith appear to the
dreamer; when John wants to see the Whore of Babylon, an angel
appears to convey him. In other words, Langland's use of the guide
figure is peripheral rather than central to his narrative structure.
Had he continued the line of the Visit) with the questing dreamer,
Holicherche, and Piers, the poem would contain fewer obstacles for

the reader. For all practical purposes, Piers Plowman ends where it

 

began, its only consistent progress the growth from personal chaos

to cosmic turmoil.

CHAPTER IV

FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS: A QUEST TO NADA

 

Although William Langland often did not define them clearly, his
fictional world certainly was based on absolute ethical and spiritual

values. He did not question the existence of a religious order which

 

IrT .
.

included a Trinity, Biblical personages, and a functioning church;
nor did he doubt the reality of such moral absolutes as the seven deadly
sins, truth, and falsehood. Langland had faith that if one achieved
proper Christian perception and conduct he would receive almost
guaranteed spiritual rewards; if he did not follow such a path, he
assuredly would be damned. Edmund Spenser's fictional world also
was founded on absolute values, on spiritual concepts like holiness and
ethical concepts like temperance and chastity. Like Langland, Spenser
believed that by maintaining a Christian behavior and faith, the questing
hero could reach his ultimate goal of spiritual salvation. Spenser's
guide figures thus function to lead the quester to this perfection of
Christian virtue and its consequent reward in the afterlife.

Ernest Hemingway's concepts of the universe and of man differ
radically from Langland's, Spenser's, and other pre-twentieth century

150

151
writers'. In the fictional world of Hemingway and many of his "lost
generation" contemporaries, moral and spiritual absolutes either do not
exist or else cannot be discovered and retained. As Joseph Wood Krutch

says in The Modern Temper, "We no longer believe in either our infinite

 

capacities or our importance to the universe. "1 To Hemingway, then,
the quest becomes man's exploration of possible substitutes for lost
absolutes, for religious faith and ethical certainties.

Even if the ultimate Tower of Truth or House of Holiness has been
removed from his world, the Hemingway hero still must pace the road
of life in some potentially meaningful fashion, and he still requires
guide figures to lead him. These guide figures adhere in many respects
to the convention established by Gilgamesh; they employ orthodox means
of guidance, but the quest they conduct does not take place in a spiritually
or morally ordered universe and its goal is not Christian salvation. We
shall consider Hemingway's use of the guide convention in one novel,

For Whom the Bell Tolls, selected because it clearly embodies a quest

 

(presented in almost archetypal terms through Hemingway's allusions
to the Grail legend and other myths) and also because it suggests perhaps

the fullest and most complex picture of Hemingway's universe and hero. 2

 

1 Joseph Wood Krutch, The Modern Temper (New York, 1929), p. 249.

 

2 Much of the following discussion on Hemingway's use of the guide
convention can apply equally well to his other works. Consider, for example,
Rinaldi's relation to Frederic Henry in Farewell to Arms; Wilson's relation
to Macomber in "The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber, " although this
use of the guide well may be intended ironically; Dr. Adams' relation to Nick

 

in the early chapters of In Our Time; Santiago's relation to the boy in The Old

 

Man and the Sea; and, in some respects, Count Mippipopolous' relation to
Jake Barnes in The Sun Also Rises.

 

 

 

I “J A‘bkfl

‘2

152

That universe, in brief, 3 primarily has been shaped and reorgan-
ized by modern warfare, "one of the many circumstances which has led
vast numbers of thinking men, in our times, to distrust abstractions
and ideologies. "4 World War I brought to these young men, like
Hemingway, an environment of disillusion and rudderlessness, as
Maxwell Anderson indicates in High Tor: "The very points of the compass
grow doubtful these latter years . . , because the great master devil
sits on top of the world stirring up north and south with a long spoon

. 5
to confuse poor mariners."

 

 

3 General studies which are particularly informative on the post-
war environment and its effect on literature include Joseph Warren
Beach, American Fiction 1920- 1940 (New York, 1941), pp. 69-119;
Stanley Cooperman, World War I and the American Novel (Baltimore,
Md. , 1967); Maxwell Geismar, Writers in Crisis: The American Novel,
1925-1940 (New York, 1942), pp. 39-85; Alfred Kazin, "Into the Thirties:
All the Lost Generations, " On Native Grounds (Garden City, N.Y. ,

1956), pp. 239-282; and Henry May, The Discontent of the Intellectuals:
A Problem of the Twenties (Chicago, 1963). Critical studies which
specifically treat Hemingway's universe include Richard P. Adams,
"Sunrise Out of the Waste Land, " Tulane Studies in English, IX (1959),
119- 131; Carlos Baker, Hemingway: The Writer as Artist (Princeton,
N.J . , 1956); Sheridan Baker, Ernest Hemingway: An Introduction and
Interpretation (New York, 1967); Malcolm Cowley, "Nightmare and

Ritual in Hemingway, " Introduction to The Portable Hemingway, ed.
Cowley (New York, 1944); Frederick J. Hoffman, "No Beginning and

No End: Hemingway and Death, " Essgys in Criticism, III (January, 1953),
73-84; Pier Francesco Paolini, "The Hemingway of the Major Works"
(1956), in Hemingway and His Critics, ed. Carlos Baker (New York,
1961), pp. 131- 144; Stewart F. Sanderson, Ernest Hemingway (New York,
1961); Mark Spilka, "The Death of Love in The Sun Also Rises, " in
Twelve Original Essays on Great Novels, ed. Charles Shapiro (Detroit,
Mich. , 1958); And Philip Young, Ernest HemingWay (New York, 1952).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4 Joseph Warren Beach, "Style in For Whom the Bell Tolls, "
American Fiction, 1920-1940, p. 111.

 

 

5 Maxwell Anderson, High Tor (Washington, D.C., 1937), Act 1,
scene ii, p. 33.

153

When a sensitive man views the destruction, chaos, futility, and
inhumanity of man engaged in war, he of necessity must question his
beliefs about the existence of a deity, about his rationality, about the
nature of justice, of sin and good, the very rationale of his being. And
when, through war's irony and ambiguity and irrationality he comes to
admit that political ideologies are relative and expedient, he finds that
he must call into question all his other sacred values. He thus discovers
that his structured universe with its absolute laws and morals and beliefs

rests on sand.

 

In war man's moral standards are in abeyance, since war creates a _.:'
its own ethic. As Krutch explains, the problem of modern man is "to
remain an ethical animal in a universe which contains no ethical element. "
If one has sanction to kill, steal, and destroy in the name of a political
cause, then why refrain from murder, theft, and destruction for an
individual cause? Sexual mores seem irrelevant; war is transient,
intensified, kaleidoscopic. Hedonism replaces a commitment to family
and propagation, for young men either lie dead on the field, their
reproductive force wasted; or, living, decide not to bring children into
such a world as they ironically destroy to preserve. War tarnishes
the value of the intellect, the western world's worship of the human
mind. Planners, generals, and military strategists are far removed
from the horror they create; the man who wrote on social principles

before the war now lies with his head under a tank track. Plato, Locke,

 

6 Krutch, p. 14.

154

Rousseau do not teach the soldier who has killed how to sleep at night.

Faith in a cause, in a political ideology to replace individual
conscience and commitment, evaporates when war becomes personal,
when killing and destruction for an abstract ideal come to mean that
one's brother is dead, his grainfield and house burned. Likewise, in
wartime a cultural or national ideology loses meaning. The learned
reflexes which produce a nationalistic feeling of identity and security
are invalid when they clash with a foreign set of responses. The
soldier either cannot or refuses to adapt his national values; he becomes
a man without a country or else be partially merges with the foreign
patterns to become internationalized, a reaction which produces its own
traumas. Once he identifies with the common nationality of mankind
rather than with his particular culture he assumes the burden of killing
his compatriots, thus "passing a peimg of himselfe out of this world. "7

Finally and most significantly, modern warfare has produced a
"God-abandoned universe, " in Robert Penn Warren's words. Religious
faith, although perhaps helpful as an individual crutch, has no effect on

or relevance to the mass situation of "an irrational world in which

vulgarity, filth, confusion, and unreason were the rule instead of the

 

7 John Donne, "XVII. Meditation, " from "Devotions Upon Emergent
Occasions, " in The Complete Poetry and Selected Prose of John Donne,
ed. Charles M. Coffin (New York, 1952), p. 441. Sheridan Baker,
in Ernest Hemingway: An Introduction and Interpretation, p. 115, has
a brief but interesting analysis of Hemingway's use of Donne in which
he suggests that Hemingway missed the full irony of his title. If any
man's dying diminishes one, then the personal effect of administering
death, killing a man, must be catastrophic.

 

 

155
unpleasant exception. "8 No "right side" can transcend the horror of
battle, and God simply has left the field. We pray, "Give us peace in
our time, O Lord, " but to Hemingway no one is listening.
The Hemingway hero9 thus confronts the fact that a man who once
has believed in something, who once had faith, must find a substitute
when the traditional anchors and structure of that faith lose their

meaning. His central problem is to find an application for his religious

- hz-m.-l

and moral attitude. The tragedy of the Hemingway hero is that when he

discovers a substitute for the order and security of religious faith, he

 

finds it hollow when tested against experience. Thus he uses anesthetics:
perhaps rigidly patterned bahavior or work to avoid thought and to postpone
confrontation with bare reality; perhaps some hedonistic opiate, like
liquor or casual sex. In place of a theological good he reduces his ethic

to a pleasure- pain principle of things being good if they make one feel
good, but he also learns that a spiritual void cannot be filled by a physical

substitute. Krutch outlines this learning process and its effect as follows:

 

8 Frederick J. Hoffman, The Twenties (New York, 1955), p. 54.

 

9 Helpful discussions of the Hemingway hero may be found in
Lois L. Barnes, "The Helpless Hero of Ernest Hemingway, " Science
and Society, XVII (1953), 1-25; James B. Colvert, "Ernest Hemingway's
Morality in Action, " American Literature, XXVII (November, 1955),
372-385; Malcolm Cowley, "Hemingway and the Hero, " New Republic,
CVI (December 4, 1944), 754-758; Sean O'Faolian, The Vanishing
Hero: Studies of the Hero in the Modern Novel (Boston, 1956), pp. 112-
145; Earl Rovit, Ernest Hemingway (New Haven, Conn. , 1963); D.S.
Savage, The Withered Branch (London, 1950); and Robert Penn Warren,
"Ernest Hemingway, " Kenyon Review, IX (Winter, 1947), 1-28.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

156

If Humanism and Nature are fundamentally antithetical, if the
human virtues have a definite limit set to their development,
and if they may be cultivated only by a process which renders
us progressively unfit to fulfill our biological duties, then we
may at least permit ourselves a certain defiant satisfaction
when we realize that we have made our choice and that we are
resolved to abide by the consequences. Some small part of
the tragic fallacy may be said indeed to be still valid for us,
for if we cannot feel ourselves great as Shakespeare did . . ,
we know at least that we have discovered the trick which has
been played upon us and that whatever else we may be we are
no longer dupes.

Rejuvenation may be offered to us at a certain price.
Nature, issuing her last warning, may bid us embrace some
new illusion before it is too late and accord ourselves once
more with her. But we prefer rather to fail in our own way
than to succeed in hers. Our human world may have no
experience outside of air own desires, but those are more
imperious than anything else we know, and we will cling to
our own lost cause, choosing always rather to know than to
be. . . . If death for us and our kind is the inevitable result
of our stubbornness then we can only say, "So be it. " Ours
is a lost cause and there is no place for us in the natural
universe, but we are not, for all that, sorry to be human.
We should rather die as men than live as animals.10

 

The Hemingway hero's quest, then, is to search for a personally
meaningful way to live in an unstructured world where there are no goals,
a world of _ngc_l_a, of nothingness. His quest is an individual journey
toward moral manhood; its end is internal peace, not external spiritual
absolution; and its way is

Lost in a landscape of the mind,

A country where the lights are low 11
And where the ways are hard to find.

 

0 Krutch, pp. 248-249.

11 Geoffrey Scott, Poems (New York, 1931), p. 42.

 

II) ‘1

157
In this quest for moral manhood the great value lies in the search itself
and not its goal; Hemingway's emphasis is "Pursuit gs Happiness, "12
not the pursuit _o_f_ any pre-established reward.

Regardless of the journey's particular form-—the game, such as
hunting, fishing, or war, which the hero plays in order to build moral
manhood--he must follow certain Hemingway rules. The primary dic-
tate is to behave with "grace under pressure," a phrase Hemingway

invented to define "guts" and which means, basically, hearing death at

one's back and turning around to attack it. This "grace" means, among

 

Lm' m .15...

other things, simply discipline; it means asking the proper questions in
the prOper order and then acting on the answers; it means dignity,
courage, and defiance, regardless of the challenge; it means conforming
to natural laws, or viewing human nature as part of the nature of forces
which surround man. The aim of the Hemingway hero is not to escape
the ordeal and ultimate fate, for they are unavoidable, but to define
himself by going through the ordeal well. He cannot avoid the final
apocalyptical vision, but by adhering to a behavioral code whose
significance he has internalized, he can assure that he sees that vision
clearly and meets it courageously.

Hemingway's universe substitutes mental dramas for God, an
internal force and structure for an external. His hero's purpose, as
well as his burden, is to act and suffer with total awareness and intensity,

without moral or physical anesthetics, without illusions. Like Christ's,

 

12 Ernest Hemingway, Green Hills of Africa (New York, 1935),
p. 215 (italics mine).

 

158

the hero's passion should end with his being "pretty good in there today. "13
Thus Hemingway's guide figures fulfill a different function from Lang-
land's or Spenser's, in that they lead to _na___da, not to New Jerusalem.
They teach the hero not how to reach his traditional Christian reward

but, rather, how to cope with his knowledge that such a reward no longer

exists. It has been replaced by a goal of moral manhood, a mundane,

T7

temporal, and relative standard. The Hemingway guides thus are men
who have come to terms with themselves rather than with God.

For Whom the Bell Tolls illustrates a learning process, the

 

 

education of Robert Jordan. 14 The structure of his education is circular:15 1
Jordan starts at a defined point with certain ideas, beliefs, and problems;

he confronts a series of conflicts and tests; and he then returns to the

 

13 Ernest Hemingway, "Today is Friday," The Short Stories of
Ernest Hemingway (New York, 1953), p. 358.

14 Relevant critical studies on For Whom the Bell Tolls include
Carlos Baker, Hemingway: The Writer as Artist, pp. 223-263; Joseph
Warren Beach, American Fiction, 1920-1940, pp. 89-93, pp. 112-119;
Philip Young, Ernest Hemingway, pp. 75-86; Sheridan Baker, Ernest
Hemingway: An Introduction and Interpretation, pp. 107- 118; Arturo
Barea, "Not Spain But Hemingway," Horizon, 111 (May, 1941), 350-361;
Frederick I. Carpenter, "Hemingway Achieves the Fifth Dimension, "
PMLA, LXIX (September, 1954), 711-718; E.M. Halliday, "Hemingway's
Ambiguity: Symbolism and Irony, " American Literature, XXVIII (1956),
1-22; and "Hemingway's Narrative Perspective, " Sewanee Review, LX
(April, 1952), 202-218; and Lionel Trilling, "An American in Spain, "
The Partisan Review, ed. William Phillips and Philip Rahv (New York,
1946f, pp. 639- 644.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

15 Hemingway's references to circularity in For Whom the Bell
Tolls are summarized by Carlos Baker in "The Spanish Tragedy, "
Hemingay: The Writer as Artist, pp. 244-263.

 

 

 

‘IIIIIIIIIII I'll ill'llnll \lllll \ .(l

159

same point with different views on his original concerns. The major
means by which Hemingway evolves his hero's education is a guide series,
a group of guide figures who function both separately and together. Each
individual figure represents some challenge which Jordan first must
perceive, next confront, then act on, and finally assimilate. AS a
whole, the guides represent and teach him his most important lesson,
the value of comradeship and community.

The quest which these guide figures conduct thus is private,
individual, and relative, in contrast to Langland's or Spenser's external,

Christian, and absolute quests. With its path the road to self—knowledge,

 

its combats fought internally, and its goal deep within the individual,
the Hemingway quest often can be overlooked by the casual reader, who
may realize that the hero is looking for something but does not see the
form of his search. The reason that this quest form so often remains
undetected is that it does not appear on the primary narrative level;
Jordan's overt quest is limited to treks up and down a half-mile of
mountainside. Hemingway instead has buried the questing structure

in the symbolic layer of meaning, revealing it only through allusive

detail. That he intended For Whom the Bell Tolls to be read as a

 

traditional quest, Jordan as a questing knight, and the partisans as
orthodox guide figures is proved by the number of such allusions he
includes.

These references are grouped around two legendary quests:

Christ's to save mankind; and the Grail quester's to restore the land's

160
Spiritual and sexual fertility. Although the purpose of this chapter is not
to delineate the novel's symbolism, a brief summary of the symbolic
detail substantiates and adds depth to Jordan's private quest. The
Christian myth is seen in Hemingway's frequent use of the number
three, traditionally the symbol of re-integration after the unity of one
and the diversity of two, as well as a symbol of the Holy Trinity. There
are, for example, three Fiat planes, whiskey glasses, ways off the
mountain, and clips of cartridges. El Sordo is wounded three times,
Anselmo Shoots at the sentry three times, the earth is capable of
moving three times in one's lifetime of making love, and the time span
of the novel is three days. Details of Christ's passion appear in the
events which immediately precede the battle: El Sordo dies on the
mountaintop at 3 p.m. ; Pablo is called a Judas; Pilar, like Simon
Peter, falls asleep on watch and betrays Jordan's trust, while Anselmo
awakens to ask "IS it time?"; and the entire scene ends with a cock
crowing. 16 Christian references are scattered throughout the novel:
the four horsemen who approach the camp suggest Famine, Pestilence,
War, and Death, the four horsemen of the apocalypse. The gray horse,
too, on which the lone Fascist rider approaches the camp well may be
the "pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell

17

followed with him. " Thus Jordan's and Lieutenant Berrenda's

mutual view of the gray horse lying dead before their final combat

 

_—

16 See Matthew 26, Authorized Version.

17 Revelation 6: 8, Authorized Version.

 

161
begins appears to be symbolically intended.
Various names are placed in a Biblical context. Jordan reflects
that "old Pablo" had not "experienced any complete conversion on the

road to Tarsus. "18

Maria's name "is not common, " Since she shares
it with the Virgin; and El Sordo's real name is Santiago. The "Roll,

Jordan, Roll" chanted when Jordan plays football recalls the River I?
Jordan in which Christ was baptized and over whose life—giving waters

one paradoxically crossed to death and safety from pursuit. One also

can point to the religious predecessors whose names the partisans

 

|I-'\ ”K‘s.’

possibly Share: Anselm of Aosta, later Archbishop of Canterbury; the
Blessed Virgin of Pilar; Augustine; and Saint Ferdinand.

Aspects of the Grail quest and wasteland theme permeate the
novel as well. Hemingway's settings are carefully constructed around
streams, mountains, forests, and caves, all geographical sites in the
Grail legend; and the novel's action takes place in May, the season of
rebirth. El Sordo's hideout, the highest physical point in the novel,
is a gulch-head "shaped like an upturned basin, " and his death suggests
the beheading game so frequently one of the Grail knight's tests.
Anselmo offers Jordan a stone basin filled with red wine, another apparent
allusion to the Grail itself. Water, symbol of fertility and life, illustrates
the wasteland motif: instead of rejuvenating rain the death-white snow

falls; and Jordan recalls that the Madrid park lake has been drained to

 

8 Ernest Hemingway, For Whom the Bell Tolls (New York,
1940), p. 392. All consequent references are from this edition and
are incorporated in the text.

 

162
make a bomb target. The death of the land is seen in Pilar's account of
the Fascist town where the grain had been harvested but not threshed,
and in Andre/5' observation of the rotting haycocks which had not been
gathered during the four years of the war. Sexual impotence and
sterility are explicitly conveyed: Maria has been raped and probably

cannot conceive children (an ironic parody of her namesake's experience);

 

 

:‘7.
neither Pilar nor Anselmo has children, and Pilar's forty-eight years

allow little possibility of conception; Pablo is called a castrated boar;

Anselmo refers to the cave as "e1 palacio del miedo" and Jordan says it i
is "la cueva de los huevos perdidos"--"palace of fear" and "cave of the L,

 

lost eggs, " eggs being a Slang term for testicles; Fernando is shot in
the groin; and Jordan thinks about Onanism when Maria cannot have
intercourse with him. Finally, Pilar's summary of death's smell in

Madrid suggests the wasteland motif:

there in the Shadow of the trees against the iron railings . . .
they (Street; prostitutes] will perform all that a man wishes;
from the simplest requests at a remuneration of ten centimos
up to a peseta for that great act that we are born to and there,
on a dead flower bed that has not yet been plucked out and
replanted, and so serves to soften the earth that is so much softer
than the sidewalk, thou wilt find an abandoned gunny sack with
the odor of the wet earth, the dead flowers, and the doings of
that night. In this sack will be contained the essence of it all,
both the dead earth and the dead stalks of the flowers and

their rotted blooms and the smell that is both the death and
birth of man. Thou wilt wrap this sack around thy head and try
to breathe through it. (p. 256)

Marital love has become fornication and contraceptives replace children

in this war-torn wasteland.

163
The discussion of the above allusions is not meant to suggest that
Hemingway presented them in a unified figurative pattern. Discovering
the interrelationships and ultimate significance of these details and
their archetypal sources is a task outside the sc0pe of this paper.

However, the Christian and wasteland motifs in For Whom the Bell Tolls

 

do cooperate well with Hemingway's themes of love, death, duty, and
war. The allusions to myth also enrich the figure of Robert Jordan,

adding a universal, time-spanning dimension to his character. Although

 

Jordan's is a personal, subjective journey, it also is the traditional

journey of the questing Grail knight within a Christian context, the man _..
in search of salvation. He, like Galahad or Launcelot, must start at

a particular point with particular beliefs, submit those beliefs to tests

and alterations, and emerge from the ordeal at least refined, if not

rejuvenated. Like Dante the Pilgrim or Red Cross, Jordan too needs

guide figures to effect that change, as we Shall see.

Jordan's initial beliefs, before being influenced by the guide
figures, are revealed to the reader in two structural divisions: the
episode with G012 and Jordan's first encounter with each of the partisans.
Hemingway's flashback to Golz's original order to destroy the bridge
exposes far more than the factual detail necessary to motivate the
action. We see Jordan as a social creature subservient to a political
cause, a man attempting to structure his entire being by a cause,
surrendering his individuality to it. He "would always rather not know"

more than his own orders, he does "not give any importance to what

164
happened to himself, " and he very much likes his demolition work (pp.
7, 4). He has no commitment to or responsibility for anything other
than his job; he cursorily dismisses any need for women because he has
"enough to think about without girls" (p. 8), and when his mind wanders
to Golz's dangerous situation he decides not to
think about that. That was not his business. That was f“
Golz's business. He had only one thing to do and that
was what he should think about and he must think it out
clearly and take everything as it came along, and not

worry. To worry was as bad as to be afraid. It simply
made things more difficult. (pp. 8-9)

 

In addition to portraying Jordan trying to be a political automaton, the
G012 episode also suggest the major contrast of the novel: the reality
of the outside world which hovers over the withdrawn mountain retreat.
This world holds a different reality from that of the partisans--there is
in it a different attitude toward war, love, and pleasure, a difference
made obvious through the physical settings, the characters who inhabit
each world, and the two Robert J ordans who exist in them.

The details which Hemingway inserts in these interludes of the
outside world blend together to form an almost imperceptible aura of
irony. Vicente Rojo, the "unsuccessful professor" theoretician who
planned the offensive operation, contrasts with Jordan. La Pasionaria,
safely distanced from the front in the comparative luxury at Gaylord's,
inaccurately reports El Sordo's skirmish, her misdirected enthusiasm

I
ironically contrasting with J oaquin's faith in her wisdom before he dies.

165

And, most important, the picture of the military Situation that Andre’s
receives as he journeys through the lines provides a strongly ironic
comment on the reality behind Jordan's "cause." The disorder, futility,
and Sheer stupidity of the offensive make it quite clear that Jordan needs
some personal commitment for which to die unless he wants to end a
deluded fool.

His introduction to the partisans presents further illustrations of
his beliefs and ideas. Pablo's questions about the bridge-blowing produce
Jordan's rude answer of "That is my business" (p. 11), thus opening the

cultural conflict which runs through the novel. Believing that his orders

 

transcend any human concern, Jordan is oblivious to the irony of a
Russian ordering an American to destroy a Spanish camp and probably
its Spanish inhabitants, all of course for their own good. His lack of
emotional response, too, is elicited by Pablo: "I wonder what could make
me feel the way those horses make Pablo feel" (p. 16), a question he
will learn to answer in the mountains. His attitude toward killing, an
important touchstone for interpreting a Hemingway hero, emerges in
contrast to Anselmo's. Jordan does not like to kill animals--that is,
he is not a hunter- -but he does not mind, in fact enjoys, as he later
admits, killing men: "I feel nothing against it when it is necessary. When
it is for the cause." (p. 39)

The attitude toward political duty as Opposed to commitment to

individuals is solidified in the mountains:

166

There is not you, and there are no people that things must
not happen to. Neither you nor this old man is anything.
You are instruments to do your duty. There are necessary
orders that are no fault of yours and there is a bridge and
that bridge can be the point on which the future of the human
race can turn. As it can turn on everything that happens in
this war. You have only one thing to do and you must do it.

(p. 43)

His attitude toward women also is repeated. Although he has surrendered

to Maria, he sees the emotion as transient: "I cannot have a woman doing

. an“?
3'.

what I do. But thou art my woman now. " (p. 73) He evidently has not

perceived Pilar very clearly or he would see that his statement is

absurd.

 

Finally, Hemingway introduces other ideas which will change as
Jordan follows his quest. He does not believe in fate, luck, or fore-
knowledge; his work is his only creed. He does not joke, either with
Golz or Pilar, and does not understand that one can joke only if one
is serious enough, that joking is based on one's acceptance of a
situation and full perception of its irony. He anxiously avoids talk of
death and, because he embraces a mass cause, does not believe that
every man is alone in death. He drinks absinthe, a Hemingway opiate,
and half- seriously believes that its obliterating effect can cure every-
thing. And, he listens to Rafael's song,

I had an inheritance from my father,

It was the moon and the sun

And though I roam all over the world
The spending of it's never done. 19

 

19 The song is a good example of the "silences" in Hemingway;
Jordan does not directly confront his past until much later in the novel.

167
without perceiving its relevance to his personal inheritance of shame
and fear with which eventually he will have to come to terms.
The early Jordan, then, as Pilar tells him, is "a very cold boy"
(p. 91), emotionally frozen, afraid only of not doing his duty, and
interested in life and people only if they do not interfere with his work.

The guide figures of For Whom the Bell Tolls act to change these

 

attitudes, as we shall see. Two of these figures, Anselmo and Pilar,
will be discussed in some detail, and the others treated peripherally.

Anselmo, Specifically referred to as a guide throughout the novel,
is "a short and solid old man" (p. 1), Sixty-eight years old, widowed,
and illiterate. He directly teaches Jordan two major lessons and, by
personal example, reveals two more which Jordan apparently absorbs.
The first lesson is the meaning of death, of killing--of being a hunter,
which Anselmo is. He has killed the boar, wolf, and bear, but needs
three shots, compared to Jordan's one, to kill the sentry. He enjoys
killing animals but will kill men only if forced to by the necessities of
war, and then only with a deep distaste and need for penance. His
ideas conflict with Jordan's in the following passage:

To me [Anselmo] it is a Sin to kill a man. Even Fascists

whom we must kill. To me there is a great difference

between the bear and the man and I do not believe the

wizardry of the gypsies about the brotherhood with animals.

No. I am against all killing of men. . . . if I live later,

I will t? to live in such a way, doing no harm to any one,
that it his having killed merj will be forgiven. . . . Since

 

The reader's understanding of this indirect intimation thus adds a
dimension to his early perception of the character.

168

we do not have God here any more, neither His Son nor
the Holy Ghost, who forgives? I do not know. . . . If
there were God, never would He have permitted what I
have seen with my eyes. . . . Clearly I miss Him, having
been brought up in religion. But now a man must be
reSponsible to himself. . . . But with or without God, I
think it is a sin to kill. To take the life of another is to
me very grave. I will do it whenever necessary but I
am not of the race of Pablo."

[Jordan7 "To win a war we must kill our enemies.
That has always been true. "

"Clearly. In war we must kill. But I have very
rare ideas," Anselmo said. (p. 41)

Like a good hunter, too, Anselmo takes no pleasure in what Hemingway

0
calls "ornamental killing, "2 preferring to educate rather than to

 

destroy the defeated. When Agustin anticipates gory reprisals Anselmo
says, "That way of speaking is ignoble, " and defines his own desires to
be

That we should win this war and shoot nobody. . . . That

we should govern justly and that all Should participate in

the benefits according as they have striven for them. And

that those who have fought against us should be educated to

see their error. (p. 285)
Jordan listens carefully to this conversation, which produces his
admission that he has "liked to kill as all who are soldiers by choice
have enjoyed it at some time whether they lie about it or not. " (p. 287)
He conclude S--rationalizes, perhaps—-that

Anselmo does not like to because he is a hunter, not a

soldier. Don't idealize him, either. Hunters kill
animals and soldiers kill men. Don't lie to yourself,

 

20 Hemingway, Green Hills of Africa, p. 16.

 

169
he thought. Nor make up literature about it. You have
been tainted with it [fiking to kill merj for a long time
now. And do not think against Anselmo either. He is
a Christian. Something very rare in Catholic countries.
(p. 287)
His analysis is correct, but later in the novel, as we shall see, Jordan
finds that he cannot rest with correct analysis alone; he must personalize

that analysis and re-evaluate his attitudes in terms of it.

The second lesson which Anselmo teaches Jordan is a concept of

II. -..'L‘.‘)- a. 1; _Z O ‘h- in!

duty, of commitment to a cause which includes commitment to man.

Jordan originally embraces the cause because it removes him from

 

personal involvement and thought; Anselmo embraces it because, for
him, the cause is founded on personal involvement. What he tells

Pablo, worried about his horses and his life, applies to Jordan as well:

Art thou a brute? Yes. Art thou a beast? Yes, many
times. Hast thou a brain? Nay. None. Now we come for
something of consummate importance and thee, with thy
dwelling place to be undisturbed, puts thy fox-hole before
the interests of humanity. Before the interests of thy
people. (p. 11)

Jordan has no horses, but his grasp on the cause is as tenacious in its
deliberate disregard for personalized humanity as is Pablo's form of
selfishness. Anselmo knows, as Jordan does not yet know, that a
commitment to mankind transcends and outlasts a political ideology,

that ideologies mute and fade while mankind endures, and one thus gains

more by relying on mankind:

170

The fascists are warm, he [Anselmg/ thought, and they are
comfortable, and tomorrow night we will kill them. It is a
strange thing and I do not like to think of it. I have watched
them all day and they are the same men that we are. I believe
that I could walk up to the mill and knock on the door and I
“would be welcome except that they have orders to challenge
all travellers and ask to see their papers. It is only orders
that come between us. Those men are not fascists. I call
them so, but they are not. They are poor men as we are.
They Should never be fighting against us and I do not like to

think of the killing. (pp. 192- 193)

The concept of duty which Anselmo suggests combines both the personal

and the universal:

But one thing I have that no man nor any God can take from
me and that is that I have worked well for the Republic. I

have worked hard for the good that we will all share later.

I have worked my best from the first of the movement and

I have done nothing that I am ashamed of. (p. 197)

He has defined duty in terms of his people, and, in so doing, has garnered
a personal reward, his own sense of satisfaction.

Jordan's third lesson Anselmo reflects by his own example; he
possesses and needs emotional release. He is not "a very cold boy,"
but a warm, sensitive man. Through his guide's emotional openness,
Jordan learns that feelings do not detract from strength. Anselmo cries
after killing the sentry, admits his fear, and confesses loneliness, none
of which alters Jordan's evaluation of him as a strong man and, in fact,
increases it by suggesting Anselmo's immense self-control in conquering
emotion. In the old man, Hemingway presents a clear illustration of
grace under pressure, of the man who suffers with awareness and

intensity yet behaves well.

 

17 1
Finally, Anselmo's death foreshadows Jordan's and illustrates

the proper way to die. He is at peace with himself:

But now thou hast what thou asked for last night coming home
across the hills. Thou art in battle and thou hast no problem.
If I die on this morning now it is all right. . . .Truly this is
a great day. I should realize and know what a day this is.

But there was no lift or any excitement in his heart.
That was all gone and there was nothing but a calmness. And
now, as he crouched behind the marker stone with the looped
wire in his hand and another loop of it around his wrist and the
gravel beside the road under his knees he was not lonely nor
did he feel in any way alone. (p. 443)

Unbuoyed and unsustained by any delusion, anesthetic, or flow of
adrenaline, Anselmo feels only calm. He is not lonely, but "one with
the Iggl_e_’s still working under the bridge and . . . one with all of the
battle and with the Republic." Most significant of all, he has died with
his work finished, the detonating wire still in his hand. He has achieved
what he prayed for, what would give meaning to his life: to comport
himself without cowardice.

Through these lessons and his example, Anselmo thus clarifies
certain aspects of Jordan's chaos of perception, primarily his attitudes
toward death, killing, and duty. He also provides a referential frame-
work for Jordan's development, intervening throughout the novel to
correct and to provide a standard for Jordan's actions or ideas. It is
Anselmo who first warns Jordan that this job is not as easy as the other
explosions, metaphorically suggesting that he first must undertake an
educative quest: "From where we are going, it will all be downhill

to the bridge. But now we must climb a little in seriousness to get

 

172
there." (p. 2)

The progress of Jordan's educative quest can be measured by
Anselmo's responses, one particular indication being the form of address
he uses. When he is guiding Jordan or is in some way superior to him,
he employs the _tg’ pronoun, used to address an inferior (or an intimate,
which Jordan obviously is not when first introduced to Anselmo), and,

21
as Jordan matures, he frequently uses the formal usted form. Jordan's

 

forgetting Anselmo's name (p. 2) also is an indication of his level in
the quest, as is the contrast between their actions after the first brush
with the cavalry. Jordan, in his relief, babbles about the encounter,
while Anselmo quietly suggests that he go into La Granja and find out if
the Fascists have learned of the impending offensive. Finally, it is
Ansehno who physically leads Jordan down to the bridge, the geographical
Symbol of his military- political attitude. What Jordan learns about duty
and death he learns from Anselmo on the mountainside, the knowledge
culminating in the successful blowing of the bridge.

In contrast, Pilar, Jordan's second major guide, provides lessons

which attack a different aspect of Jordan's philosophy. Anselmo, whose

 

21 Hemingway translates_t_u’ as "thee" or "thou, " and usted as
"you. " As Jordan progresses Anselmo also uses "thee" and "thou"
to address him, but since they have become close friends the form
no longer designates caste. Arturo Barea has an informative study
on Hemingway's use of Spanish but unfortunately does not consider
the possibility of deliberate misuse of the language to reveal charac-
ters and themes. He cites the awkward syntax produced by "thee"
and "thou" but does not mention their connotative meaning. See "Not
Spain But Hemingway" in Hemingway and His Critics, ed. Carlos
Baker, pp. 202-212.

 

173

sphere of influence is the mountainside, shows Jordan how to die well;
Pilar, whose Sphere is the cave and the ascending path to El Sordo's
hideout, shows him how to live well. With her gypsy and fortuneteller
characteristics, Pilar is the supernatural guide and Anselmo the
natural. Like Beatrice, She has access to knowledge and understanding
denied most people, while Anselmo's knowledge, like Virgil's, is limited
primarily to the natural realm. Almost all of Pilar's instruction
concerns human relationships and the personal meaning which derives
from involving oneself in mankind. Her lessons are, first, on life;
and, second, on love.

Hemingway establishes her authority in both areas early in the
novel. Her control over the partisans emerges in the initial reference
to her; Rafael tells Jordan how She forced them to carry Maria in their
escape from the train (p. 28). That authority is Shown unequivocally
a few pages later when Pablo refuses to blow the bridge. Pilar commits
herself to the bridge, as does Primitivo, but Rafael, Andre’s, and Eladio
agree that "the bridge means nothing. " They are "for the {RIM [ivomag']
of Pablo." (p. 53) Hemingway's use of physical and biographical details,
although sparse, also defines Pilar.22 Her "brown face like a model
for a granite monument" suggests her ability to endure, the "fine gray

eyes" imply her clarity of perception and perhaps her awareness of

 

22 We have suggested earlier (see p. 161 above) that Pilar's name,
like Anselmo's, presents tantalizing but insubstantial parallels. The
Blessed Virgin of Pilar was the Fascist patroness, and Anselm of Aosta
was also a "guide for foreigners. " The allusions obviously cannot be
carried very far without external evidence.

174
Jordan's death in light of the gray horse mentioned above, and her
gypsy background lends credibility to her powers of foreknowledge. In
addition she has lived with and loved three matadors, a metaphor Heming-
way frequently uses to condense the "grace under pressure" attitude toward
life. If the matador is true, courageous, and dignified, and if his
woman understands this commitment and subordinates herself to it, [A
then both have achieved a Hemingway-sanctioned way of playing the tragic ‘ A

game in the face of death. Pilar's ministrations to the "not- so-good

matador, " Finito, his determination to act out the game with dignity

 

.1.

while dying at the banquet, illustrate that their relationship was good. L.
From it Pilar learned at least two things which she will teach Jordan:
the meaning of giving oneself to another; and the necessity of committing
oneself to a way of life and following its rules, even though that commit-
ment inevitably brings death. She knows how easy it is to be a coward,
to make excuses for avoiding one's fate, and she has no tolerance of the
man who does it:
"Of course he @1nitg7 was tubercular. . . . He was short of stature
and he had a thin voice and much fear of bulls. Never have I
seen a man with more fear before the bullfight and never have I
seen a man with less fear in the ring. You," she said to Pablo.
"You are afraid to die now. You think that is something of importance.
But Finito was afraid all the time and in the ring he was like
a lion." (p. 185)
Like Anselmo, Pilar defines duty as being aware, being afraid,
and then defying that fear; they both understand that a man must do some

things for which he is totally unequipped if he is to be a man. From her

175
experiences Pilar also has learned the meaning of love and being a
woman; she thus is qualified to teach this meaning to Maria and, through
her, to Jordan. Although ugly, Pilar feels beautiful, feels like a
desirable woman, and thus becomes one, an obvious lesson for the short-
haired, emotionally-scarred Maria (p. 97).

Pilar's means of guidance are more verbal and direct than Anselmo's;
where he primarily serves as an example to Jordan, she challenges his
ideas head-on, battering them until they yield. The direct confrontation
which characterizes their relationship is established when they first
meet (p. 30) ; Jordan instantly trusts at least her political loyalty and
She, knowing the partisans have stagnated through inaction, welcomes
him. Between them we see "that attitude that makes brothers, that
unexpressed but instant and complete acceptance. "23 In a scene which
juxtaposes the conflicting themes of life and death, Pilar proves her
acceptance by entrusting Maria to Jordan but ironically also forecasts
the end of their union by reading death in his palm.

Once She has determined Jordan's potential for development,

Pilar begins his educative quest under her tutelage. Jordan's first
mistake is to underestimate her perception of the military situation;

he knows she already has seen his death, but believes that only he and
Pablo realize the whole group is in jeopardy. Pilar of course sees their
doom, but her concern is with how Jordan lives in his remaining time.

She hopes to pass on her heritage of life and love to Maria and to him

 

23 Hemingway, Green Hills of Africa, p. 221.

 

l.--
“a

 

i-np.n___u

176
rather than fruitlessly worry about the inevitable end: "That which must
pass, will pass. . . . There is no such thing as safety. There are so
many seeking safety here now that they make a great danger. In seeking
safety now you lose all. " (p. 54) Until Jordan absorbs the idea that how
one lives rather than m one dies is vital, he cannot travel further on
his quest. Tiring of his obtuseness and fast running out of time, Pilar

finally explodes at El Sordo's camp.

"Then just Shut up about what we are to do afterwards, will you,
Ingles? You go back to the Republic and you take your piece with
you and leave us others alone here to decide what part of these
hills we'll die in. "
"Live in," El Sordo said. "Calm thyself, Pilar. "
"Live in and die in," Pilar said. "I can see the end of it
well enough. " (p. 150)
The full meaning of her conscious and aware commitment finally reaches
Jordan when he discovers that Pilar long before gave Maria a razor blade
and taught her how to Slit her throat.
Pilar's first step in teaching Jordan conscious commitment to
life and pe0ple is to destroy his illusion that he is responsible only to
his cause and to his orders. By invading the territory of the partisans
and endangering their lives, Jordan thus assumes moral responsibility
for their safety or deaths; he cannot accept their help without giving them
his.
"I like thee, Iggle’s, but keep thy mouth off of what we must do
when thy business is finished. "

"It is thy business," Robert Jordan said. "I do not put my
hand in it. "

177

"But you did," Pilar said. "Take thy little cr0pped-headed
whore and go back to the Republic but do not shut the door on
others who are not foreigners and who loved the Republic when
thou wert wiping thy mother's milk off thy chin. " (p. 150)

She amplifies the need for this human bridge:

Every one needs to talk to some one . . . Before we had _.___
religion and other nonsense. Now for every one there should 5
be some one to whom one can Speak frankly, for all the ;
valor that one could have one becomes very alone. . . .

For what are we born if not to aid one another? And to listen
and say nothing is a cold enough aid. (pp. 89, 139)

 

[-6—r .f. _f _a
4'.
is

and then goes on to prove it to Jordan, through Maria. Pilar has given
him the framework of the lesson--causes cannot replace people, human
responsibility pales political responsibility—-and, in Maria, she provides
the intense Specific and personal example which will make the abstraction
a reality for Jordan. Pilar is part of the world which has provoked
war, death, and destruction, and although she can assume guilt for
the chaos, She cannot reverse it. Her role in causing the sterility of
a world at war is reflected in her own barrenness. Thus she must teach
Maria, innocent of participation in war, the process of rejuvenation.
Maria consequently serves as Pilar's vassal, the active element to
offset her impotence.

Once the relationship between Jordan and Maria is initiated, Pilar
protects their privacy, questions their responses, and generally super-
vises Jordan's interpretations of his emotional reactions. The change

in guides is effected during the visit to El Sordo. Pilar leads on the

 

56., .umrdufltltlll...1 .. .. II. 11.1.. .llld. . . .-

178

way up, directing Jordan's lessons toward responsibility and duty. Her
account of killing the Fascists shows him various ways of facing death,
warns him of Pablo's nature, and personalizes the results of war which
he has tried to keep at a distance. She tells him how to conduct himself
with El Sordo, serves as his patron at their camp, and, as quoted
above, clarifies his ideas on responsibility. On the way down, however,
Pilar relinquishes her guidance to Maria during an exchange which
Jordan does not understand. By her jealousy, in asking Maria if she
knows the way back to camp, Pilar shows her impotence in the application
of love's meaning.

Maria's sexual education, "something like . . . religious instruc—
tion" (p. 224), at Pilar's hands produces the desired response in Jordan.

He is forced to re-evaluate his ideas on duty and political allegiance:

He had gotten to be as bigoted and hide-bound about his politics
as a hard- shelled Baptist and phrases like enemies of the people

 

came into his mind without his much criticizing them in any way. . . .

But since last night and this afternoon his mind was much clearer
and cleaner on that business. Bigotry is an odd thing. To be

biogoted you have to be absolutely sure that you are right and
nothing makes that surety and righteousness like continence.
Continence is the foe of heresy. . . . When you were drunk or
when you committed either fornication or adultery you recognized
your own personal fallibility of that so mutable substitute for the
apostles' creed, the party line. . . . Maria was very hard on
his bigotry. So far she had not affected his resolution but he
would much prefer not to die. He would abandon a hero's or a
martyr's end gladly. He did not want to make a Thermopylae,
nor be Horatius at any bridge, nor be the Dutch boy with his
finger in the dyke. No. He would like to Spend some time with
Maria. That was the Simplest expression of it. He would

like to spend a long, long time with her. (p. 164)

179
He also realizes for the first time that Pilar's belief in life and its
emotional intensity is correct: "She is a damned sight more civilized
than you are and She knows what time is all about" (p. 168), and

concludes that

if your life trades its seventy years for seventy hours I have
that value now and I am lucky enough to know it. And if there
is not any such thing as a long time, nor the rest of your r...
lives, nor from now on, but there is only now, why then now is 7
the thing to praise and I am very happy with it. (p. 166)

That Jordan has not finished his quest, however, is apparent in his and

 

Maria's contrasting responses to making love. She perceives the warm .,..:
colors of life, the exploding red and yellow flash which Anselmo feels
when bombs burst and which connotes intensity, whether related to life
or death. Jordan, however, sees

a dark passage which led to nowhere, then to nowhere,

then again to nowhere, once again to nowhere, always and forever

to nowhere, heavy on the elbows in the earth to nowhere, dark,

never any end to nowhere, hung on all time always to unknowing

nowhere, this time and again for always to nowhere . . , (p. 159)
suggesting that he still lives only in terms of nada and death. Pilar's
continual supervision, the intervention of minor guide figures, and
Jordan's own introspection finally will reduce the significance of that
nada and allow him to die with meaning.

From Pilar, then, Jordan learns to convert his commitment to

a political ideology into a belief in humanity. He learns that only by

giving himself to and holding responsibility for others can he fully

180

participate in mankind, and he comes to realize that from this exchange
accrues his individual definition. From Pilar through Maria he develops
the emotions necessary to his new commitment and discovers that he
can achieve personal happiness through a true one—to-one relationship.
Her body is

warm against him, comforting against him, abolishing

loneliness against him, magically, by a Simple touching I“

of flanks, of shoulders and of feet, making an alliance *‘
against death with him . . . (p. 264)

 

Her courageous family also fills an emotional void, and Jordan adOptS
their memory with a sense of pride, now able to loosen some of his
paralytic concentration on his suicide father and soldier grandfather.
After Maria, Jordan no longer is "a very cold boy. " He has answered
his own question about what could elicit from him the intensity, the
passion which Pablo feels toward his horses.

Before leaving Hemingway's portrayal of guide figures to discuss
their function and effect, we briefly Should consider several of the minor
guides. These figures usually illustrate a specific aspect of Anselmo's
or Pilar's instruction and thus serve to round out Jordan's education.
Golz and the memory of Jordan's grandfather of course exemplify the
committed soldier who is fully aware of the game he plays, its rules,
and its end. When Golz realizes that his offensive is futile he "watched
the planes with his hard proud eyes that knew how things could be and how

they would be instead and said, proud of how they could be, believing in

181

how they could be, even if they never were, 'Bon. Nous ferons notre

 

petit possiblej ' and hung up." (pp. 429-430) His military perception

 

and intensity contrast strongly with Jordan's escapist adherence to the
cause; Jordan can reach Golz's level, but only in a different sphere.
El Sordo underlines the meaning of being a hunter; his exchange with

Jordan affirms their cultural-differences and Similarities, and his death,

 

like Anselmo's, illustrates the properly defiant end. El Sordo's setting, FT
too, contrasts with the "dead-ashes, bad-air and Sleeping men smell" of

the lower cave as he and Jordan discuss strategy in the fresh open air. }
Agusti/n, ironically the foul-mouthed partisan, makes sure Jordan under- L,

stands the import of his liason with Maria; he pledges his trust to Jordan
only after being assured that Jordan knows she is a well-bred, serious
girl and not a casual peasant. Fernando stands for dignity both in his
life and in his death, and Pablo serves Jordan mainly as a bad example.
Pablo's commitment to him self is far more dangerous than Jordan's to

a political cause; and his actions illustrate his loss of dignity, pride,
and manhood. Hemingway makes the comparison between hero and
anti-hero fairly explicit. Pilar teaches Jordan and defiantly ridicules
Pablo; Jordan sends his survivors to safety and sacrifices himself while
Pablo not only runs away from his men to save himself but probably

shoots them as well.

As a group, then, these guide figures conduct Jordan's quest to

self-knowledge and commitment to humanity. Through their previous

182

experience they are qualified to lead Jordan and to teach him; the
partisans know the terrain, they are part of the culture he must assimilate,
and they possess the emotional temperament he lacks. Two possess
special qualifications as guide figures: Pilar, who has lived with mata—
dors, has learned the game of life and death, and whose gypsy blood
suggests the gift of prophecy; and Anselmo, the good hunter, the trust-
worthy, silent trail-breaker.

The most Significant qualification of these guide figures, however,

is found in the novel's symbolic layer of meaning. Although they function

 

[_n—
W'fi
l
‘.

in the narrative as illiterate peasants, the guides are enriched and
enlarged through various archetypal and mythical allusions. For
example, Pilar's name has Christian reverberations; her age and
the condition of her marriage suggest the wasteland motif; her protec-
tion of Maria suggests a Demeter-Persephone analogy. In the contrasting
aspects of life and death, fecundity and barrenness which She contains,
she recalls something too of the ambiguous White Goddess figure. These
archetypal allusions, then, strengthen both the authority of the guide
figures and also the sc0pe of Jordan's quest. The quest grows into the
eternal and universal search for personal meaning in life and the
brotherly harmony in living it, while the guide figures reflect the wisdom
and experience of prior legendary guides.

The Operative framework which Hemingway chooses for his
guides is a series in which both the whole group and various individuals

lead, teach, and influence Jordan. As a whole the guide series illustrates

 

183
the value of community and committed interaction as a way of facing
challenge. AS parts of that narrative whole, the guides confront and
alter certain specific attitudes by which Jordan lives. The methods by
which the guide series effects these changes are orthodox; we have seen

the use of similar means from Gilgamesh through The Faerie Queene.

 

 

First, the guides physically lead and protect Jordan. Anselmo precedes
him down the unfamiliar mountainside and hovers over him as Jordan
mines the bridge, the elevation placing him "in a bad spot, " as Jordan

realizes. Maria also guides him physically, since through her body

 

Jordan learns to banish loneliness, love life, and accept death. Second,
the guide figures verbally challenge and criticize Jordan's ideas, and
they also advise and inform him. Third, like Una or Virgil, they

serve as patrons and passes of safe conduct; Jordan could not learn from,
much less approach, E1 Sordo without Pilar's intercession. Finally,

the guides illustrate and exemplify what he Should and should not do,

just as the Palmer's rebuke of Phaedria shows Guyon how he should have
reacted to her. Fernando's dignity, Agusti’n's ability to joke, Pablo's
need for companionship as well as his selfishness, even Pilar's tale of
the town, all provide attitudinal examples for Jordan to consider.

The effect of this guidance is central in terms of the hero's
development. Jordan has started with one set of beliefs and expectations
about himself and life, and after his education by the guide figures
completes his quest with an entirely different set. During most of the

first half of the novel Jordan is committed to a cause; Hemingway's

184
emphasis is on man as a social creature. In the second half, however,
Hemingway shifts the focus back to man as an individual, to the old
Hemingway ideal of solitary defiance in the face of death, grace under
pressure. Jordan is killed at the end for the sake of that Hemingway
ideal, not for a political concept; he is man alone, accepting the inevita-
bility of death but fighting against it. He has moved from commitment
to an abstraction to commitment to individuals, which is not at all what : 1
he expected to learn.

The gradual development of Jordan's redirection can be inferred

from the preceding discussion of the guide figures, but we should indicate

 

briefly the totality of the change in the path of his journey and its con-
clusion. In the course of the novel the process of change is itself subtle
and often overlooked by critics. 24 Several statements by Jordan, how-
ever, evidence in their opposition to his initial views how far he has
travelled from the beginning of his quest. The early Jordan is implied
in a flashback to the first days of the war. Karkov, a Russian journalist,

says,

"I do not like the shootings, you understand. "
"I don't mind them," Robert Jordan said. "I do not like them
but I do not mind them any more. "

 

24 Consider, for example, Lionel Trilling's statements in "An
American in Spain, " The Partisan Reader, p. 640. "The clue to the
failure [of the novel] is the essential inner dullness of his hero.
Robert Jordan does not have within himself what alone could have made
tragedy out of this remarkable melodrama--he does not in himself
embody the tensions which were in the historical events he lived
through. His fate is determined by the moral and political contradic-
tions of the historical situation, but he himself explicitly refuses to
recognize these contradictions, he stands apart from them."

 

185

"I know that," Karkov had said. "I have been told that. "

"IS it important?"Robert Jordan said. "I was only trying to
be truthful about it. "

"It is regretful," Karkov had said. "But it is one of the things
that makes pe0ple be treated as reliable who would ordinarily
have to spend much more time before attaining that category. "

"Am I supposed to be reliable?"

"In your work you are supposed to be very reliable. I
must talk to you sometime to see how you are in your mind.

It is regretable that we never speak seriously. "

"My mind is in suspension until we win the war," Robert 5‘2

Jordan had said. (p. 245) "

But his mind and his heart quickly are re-engaged by the partisans.

First, he learns that his attempt to define himself by his profession or

 

by the cause he lives by does not produce an adequate response to or
provide meaning for his new experiences. "Well, I don't want to be a
soldier, he thought. I know that. So that's out. I just want us to win
this war. I guess really good soldiers are really good at very little else,

he thought." (p. 339) In Green Hills of Africa Hemingway amplifies

 

what is happening to Jordan:

If you serve time for society, democracy, and the other
things quite young, and declining any further enlistment make
yourself responsible only to yourself, you exchange the pleasant,
comforting stench of comrades for something you can never feel
in any other way than by yourself. 25

That "something" is the sense of being at one with mankind and the
universe, the sense of finding oneself in context. Hemingway's analogy

is the Gulf Stream, symbol of enduring yet flowing life. As Jordan

 

25 Hemingway, Green Hills of Africa, p. 148.

 

186

looks down at the stream rushing below the bridge, he too realizes that

the water

has moved, as it moves, since before man, and that it has gone
by the shoreline of that long, beautiful, unhappy island since
before Columbus sighted it and that the things you find out about
it, and those that have always lived in it are permanent and of
value because that stream will flow, as it has flowed, after the
Indians, after the Spaniards, after the British, after the
Americans and after all the Cubans and all the systems of
governments, the richness, the poverty, the martyrdom, the 15“.»
sacrifice and the venality and the cruelty are all gone . . .26

Jordan's ability to distinguish between the permanent and mutable,

 

between the meaningful and casual, emerges in his new understanding L
of life and death. He comes to learn that he cannot escape from himself
or death; he realizes that life is "un callejoh sin salida" (p. 305), an
alley without an exit. Since, like all men, he is confined in it and
propelled through it, he might as well profit from the experience.
To find his individual role within the flux of humanity Jordan must
re-define his attitudes on emotional. involvement. This he does through

Maria, their union condensing and intensifying the eternal:

Then they were together so that as the hand on the watch
moved unseen now, they knew that nothing could ever happen
to the one that did not happen to the other, that no other thing
could happen more than this; that this was all and always; this
was what had been and now and whatever was to come. . . .

They were having now and before and always and now and now
and now. (p. 379)

 

26 Hemingway, Green Hills of Africa, p. 149.

187
From this experience, Jordan's recognition scene in the novel, he gains
a love and appreciation of life which echoes El Sordo's. Trapped on the

mountainside, El Sordo thinks:

If one must die . . , and clearly one must, I can die. But I
hate it. I

Dying was nothing and he had no picture of it nor fear of
it in his mind. But living was a field of grain blowing in the wind
on the side of a hill. Living was a hawk in the sky. Living was an '11
earthen jar of water in the dust of the threshing with the grain '
flailed out and the chaff blowing. (p. 313)

Jordan comes to a similar conclusion in less lyrical terms:

 

I wish that I were going to live a long time instead of going to
die today because I have learned much about life in these. four
days; more, I think, than in all the other time. I'd like to

be an old man and to really know. I wonder if you keep on
learning or if there is only a certain amount each man can
understand. I thought I knew about so many things that I

know nothing of. I wish there was more time. . . . I wonder
if you only learn them now because you are oversensitized
because of the shortness of the time? There is no such thing
as a Shortness of time, though. You Should have sense enough
to know that too. I have been all my life in these bills Since ,
I have been here. Anselmo is my oldest friend. . . . Agustin,
with his vile mouth, is my brother, and I never had a brother.
Maria is my true love and my wife. I never had a true love.

I never had a wife. She is also my Sister, and I never had a
sister, and my daughter, and I never will have a daughter. I
hate to leave a thing that is so good. (pp. 380- 381)

Jordan thus has changed his attitudes toward duty, love, and life's
meaning. He has put his past to rest by finding a new cause and a new
family, and he has discovered not only his capabilities for deep emotion,

but something to which that emotion can be applied.

This knowledge forces Jordan to re-think his ideas about death,

188

since an awareness of life's meaning paradoxically forces one to question
death's meaning. He first must admit that "your nationality and your
politics did not Show when you were dead" (p. 238); that is, that the
identifying marks of society last no longer than the man who depended on
their false security. The meaning of life and death lies in the manner
of one's living and dying, not in the external trappings one accumulates
or the ideologies one leans on. A reaffirmation of man's dignity, produced
by living with grace under pressure and dying with defiance, can swell
the eternal stream of mankind; false creeds and anesthetics, "the palm
fronds of our victories, the worn light bulbs of our discoveries and the
empty condoms of our great loves float with no significance against one
single, lasting thing-~the stream. "27 Having found life's meaning
through other people, Jordan thus finds death's meaning there also.
He has lived well in the hills and gained happiness from his behavior;
his death therefore has no meaning.

He knew he himself was nothing, and he knew death was

nothing. He knew that truly, as truly as he knew anything.

In the last few days he had learned that he himself, with

another person, could be everything. But inside himself

he knew that this was the exception. That we have had, he

thought. .In that I have been most fortunate. That was

given to me, perhaps, because I never asked for it. That
cannot be taken away or lost. (p. 393)

As Hemingway states in Green Hills of Africa, "if you have loved some

 

woman and some country you are very fortunate and, if you die after-

wards it makes no difference. "28

 

27 Hemingway, Green Hills of Africa, p. 149.

 

28 Hemingway, Green Hills of Africa}, p. 72.

 

189

The final passages of For Whom the Bell Tolls function as a coda,

 

restating J orchn's original ideas in their altered form. His chaos of
perception has been clarified, his life has achieved personal meaning,

and he has "no problem. "

Stay with what you believe now. Don't get cynical. The time
is too short and you have just sent her away. Each one does
what he can. You can do nothing for yourself but perhaps you
can do something for another. . . . You have had much luck.
There are many worse things than this. Every one has to do this,
one day or another. You are not afraid of it once you know you
have to do it, are you? No, he said, truly. . . .I hate to leave
it, is all. I hate to leave it very much and I hope I have done some
good in it. I have tried to with what talent I had. Have, you mean.
All right, have.

I have fought for what I believed in for a year now. If we
win here we will win everywhere. The world is a fine place and
worth the fighting for and I hate very much to leave it. And you
had a lot of luck, he told himself, to have had such a good life.
You've had just as good a life as grandfather's though not as
long. You've had as good a life as any one because of these last
days. You do not want to complain when you have been so lucky.
I wish there was some way to pass on what I've learned, though.
Christ, I was learning fast there at the end. I'd like to talk to
Karkov. . . .He was completely integrated now and he took a
good long look at everything. Then he looked up at the sky.
There were big white clouds in it. He touched the palm of his
hand against the pine needles where he lay and he touched the
bark of the pine trunk that he lay behind. (pp. 466, 467, 471)

 

 

Thus Robert Jordan's quest is concluded in the setting where it began.
To anyone other than Jordan it would seem as if he had moved not at

all during the three days, but in reality he has made a long journey. He
has learned that "All mankinde is of one _Agth__or, and is one 119M;
when one Man dies, one (M33 is not _t_o_n_ig_ out of the M, but

translated into a better langgage; and every Chapter must be so

 

 

.47.“!!{19‘},
. . \

«infidflinfl ' r to.“ ‘
H‘

190
translated . . , "29 and that the bell indeed tolls for him.

In the discussion of Jordan's quest I have suggested the effect of
Hemingway's guide series on character develOpment and thematic explica-
tion. Each of these guide figures stands for some attitude or idea which
Jordan must confront, and in this illustrative sense the guides are figura-
tive as well as representational. They supply a continual standard to the
educative process; at various times Jordan is in conflict with or contrast
to each figure, testing his ideas against theirs and adjusting accordingly.
Thus the guide figures' evaluations provide a yardstick by which the
reader can measure Jordan's progress.

The effect of the guide series on the novel's narrative structure is
equally significant. First, it helps to preserve the unity and condensa-

tion of the novel; Hemingway does not have to expand time, Space,

geography, and experience in order to supply a universal and eternal

context. He can match form to content, underlining the themes of isolation

and intensification through a style and structure equally sparse and
intense. In their symbolic, archetypal, and illustrative aspects, the
guide figures amplify and enrich a narrowly limited narrative; through
these figures Hemingway is able to reduce the seventy-year fabric of a
man's life into seventy hours.

The second structural effect of the guide series is that it controls

the point of view. E.M. Halliday perceptively notes that

 

29 Donne, p. 440.

 

 

ms-
1 1a.... ..

191

the greater part of the whole is told as experienced by

Robert Jordan, the hero. And for the most part Heming—

way has resisted the temptation to reduce the integrity

of effect thus gained by resortingoto private knowledge

of the ommsc1ent narrator . . .
Through most of the novel, however, Jordan's ideas are in flux, his
emotions chaotic, his allegiences Shifting. Because he is immersed in
self-discovery with all its inherent contradictions and ambiguities, his
perception often is untrustworthy, uneven, and fragmented. The guide
figures therefore function to reveal and clarify this internal conflict;
frequently their confrontation forces Jordan to formulate and express
a particular problem, presents an alternative solution, and sanctions or
rejects his solution. These guides thus preserve a unified and condensed
point of view without endangering narrative clarity and without necessitating
the intrusion of a narrator. Were Hemingway to use an omniscient
narrator, specifically a character or shaping presence who holds all
the questions and answers Jordan needs, the quest would lose much of its
tension and Jordan's development much of its originality and individuality.
By instead giving each guide authority and knowledge of a limited Sphere,

Hemingway can place his hero's final integration in relief against a

fragmented background.

In For Whom the Bell Tolls Hemingway presents an altered world

 

with altered values. Faced with the meaningless destruction and chaos

 

3'0 E.M. Halliday, "Hemingway's Narrative Perspective," pp. 215-
216.

 

192
of war, modern man has lost his faith in religious and ideological
absolutes. His faith instead must adhere to humanity, to the changing
yet enduring stream of mankind. His individual quest thus is not to
New Jerusalem or the Grail site or even to Jerusalem, for all he can
find there are silence, aridity, and death. Instead he journeys to

"a clean well-lighted place" within himself, a subjective, relative,

m.
and personal goal Whose achievement places him within the human
context. Nor does his quest follow a traditional, linear progression;
its form is circular,
L.

 

And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time. 31

The guide figures on this quest thus function to reveal the dynamics of
self in relation to self and self in relation to others doomed in the same
abyss, rather than the traditional relation of self to God.

Although our fictional universe, hero, and quest have undergone
considerable alteration since Langland and Spenser, the need for guide
figures has not diminished nor has their form deviated much from

Gilgamesh's. The criteria of divine authority or previous experience

 

and personal embodiment of the desired ideal still apply. The physical,

verbal, and illustrative means of guidance are the same. Finally, the

effect of these guides on narrative structure corresponds to our orthodox

 

31 T.S. Eliot, "Little Gidding," V, Four Quartets, in The Complete
Poems and Playg, 1909- 1950 (New York, 1952), p. 145.

 

 

 

193
models; through them the author can develop characterization and
theme, as well as provide the unity, conflict, and potential resolution

of his plot.

 

CONCLUSION

In the preceding chapters we have examined a particular variety of

narrative, the educational quest of a hero, and we have found the unity

r...
and purpose of these narratives to derive from their authors' use of the E

a
guide convention. That convention originates with the birth of written 1
literature and extends through the contemporary novel, adapted, modified, 1
but still vital to the cohesiveness of the narrative structure. L -

 

glgmesh, classical myth, Biblical myth, and Arthurian legend
supply models for the criteria and functions of these guide figures. In
them we find a hero with mortal roots and divine potential who must
quest to realize that potential. Because he is morally or spiritually
degenerate and because his journey is through unfamiliar physical and
spiritual terrain, he needs a superior figure to guide him. That guide
is qualified by either prior experience or divine authority, and is a
personal embodiment of the hero's desired ideal. The guide's functions
to the hero are physical, verbal, and illustrative: he precedes him on
the path, protects him against danger, and occasionally even carries
him; he advises, interprets for, chides, and comforts the quester; and
by his example he shows the hero how to behave, giving him a model
worthy of imitation.

The model may be isolated in a single figure or it may be cumulative.

194

195
One form of the convention is the primary guide, a character like
Enkidu who accompanies the hero, Gilgamesh, throughout the quest.
Another form is the guide series, with one guide passing the quester
on to a second and so on, each figure responsible for his own geographical
and metaphorical sphere. Finally, we have secondary or auxiliary guides
who supply a particular limited need of the quester, like a prophecy,
a dream interpretation, or physical transportation.

In The Divine Comedy, The Pearl, and The Canterbury Tales,

 

 

as well as the above works, we have seen the structural benefits which
the guide figure provides. The primary effect is the unity, consistency,
and coherency of the narrative. Educative or quest narratives frequently
are divergent and complex, portraying a multitude of Situations and
personages; the guide figure is one means of ordering or relating the
diversity. By his reactions or comments, he supplies a consistent
measure to the hero's progress, and by his example he provides the
conflict and potential resolution of the plot. Through the guide figure,
too, the author reveals his themes and characters; the quester's imper-
fect perception cannot be trusted, and the guide figure's evaluation thus
is what we as readers must follow.

These criteria and functions of the guide figure are Operative in
narratives written from 2000 B. C. to 1940. In Books I and II of Edmund

Spenser's The Faerie Queene we have seen such guides effect a classical

 

model of the quest, diverse, complex, but completely unified and under-

standable. The convention is adapted to the narrative's demands. In

 

196
Book I, a quest for holiness, the guide figures reveal Spenser's themes;
and in Book II, a quest for temperance, they explicate a representational
narrative. The themes of Book I are the nature of evil and the ambiguous
duality of experience; thus Spenser uses a primary guide, Una, who is
somewhat protean, undefined, and impotent, and auxiliary false guides ,
who are "character shadows"_of the virtuous figures and lead Red Cross
on a negative, reductive quest. The primary guide of Book II, Guyon's
Palmer, serves as a standard of the golden mean and, because deviation
from that temperate mean often is so subtle and so easy, explains to the
reader Guyon's almost imperceptible shifts into intemperance. The
major auxiliary guides of this book work to illustrate ideal temperance
and divine intervention, thus indicating that an ethical virtue must be
supplemented by spiritual enlightenment in order to effect salvation.

In Piers Plowman we have a negative model, a narrative which

 

losesits coherency and consistency because of the absence of guide
figures. Its structural elements, the quest, the dream vision, and

. personifications, require the clarification and interpretation provided
by an internal standard. Because Langland does not employ that
standard, the quest's meaning, the dreamer's progress, and the poem's
themes are obscured.

In For Whom the Bell Tolls Ernest Hemingway retains the guide

 

convention but discards the orthodox Christian framework of the quest.
To Hemingway the upheaval of modern war has rendered useless a

traditional pre-war philosophy, theology, and universal structure. His

 

197
hero lives in a world without absolute moral or religious values and
must search for substitute standards. Thus Robert Jordan's quest is
for his moral manhood, for "grace under pressure, " for a way of life
rather than for an afterlife. In this quest he is led by figures who
adhere to the guide convention as closely as any we have considered.
Endowed with archetypal characteristics and qualified by prior experience,
they teach Jordan a new value system and also represent that system to
the reader.

Through Hemingway's altered perception of the universe and of
man, we see that the use of the guide figure is not limited to the Christian
quest. The guide motif is not solely a thematic device, restricted to
the expression of particular theological and ethical concepts, but a
structural device, an ordering technique which can span ages, genres,

and ideologies.

 

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