ClassicNote on The Song of
Roland
First Section
(Laisses 1-38, or lines 1-511):
Summary:
For seven years, Charlemagne has made war in Spain against the
Saracens. He has conquered the entire country, except for the
stronghold of Saragossa, which is held by the pagan King Marsile.
Seeing that defeat is inevitable, King Marsile, in repose in his
garden, calls an assembly of 20,000 men to ask their advice. Only
the lord Blancandrin speaks up, and he offers a plan of treachery.
Marsile should sue for peace, offering to be Charlemagne's
tribute-giving vassal and to be baptized as a Christian in
Charlemagne's capital, Aix. To guarantee good behavior, they will
offer their own sons as hostages. Charlemagne will leave Spain, to
await Marsile in Aix. But neither the promised treasure nor Marsile
will arrive. Although the French king will then kill the hostages,
the military threat will be over. The Saracens unanimously approve
of this plan, and Marsile sends "ten of his most treacherous men"
(l. 69) to act as emissaries.
Charles, having just conquered the city of Cordoba, is resting in
a garden, surrounded by some of his vassals. Marsile's emissaries,
led by Blancandrin, approach bearing olive branches and a gift of
ten white mules. Blancandrin gives Charles Marsile's offer. Charles
considers carefully: although he does not exactly trust Marsile, he
has been in Spain for seven years and is an old man. He calls his
vassals to discuss the proposal. Roland, one of Charlemagne's twelve
peers and the most beloved of Charlemagne's vassals, urges the king
to refuse the offer. Marsile has proved treacherous in the past; he
sued for peace on a previous occasion, but when Charlemagne sent two
trusted emissaries Marsile had them beheaded.
Ganelon, Roland's stepfather, speaks next. He brutally criticizes
Roland's advice, characterizing it as foolhardy and uncaring about
the Christians who will die if the war continues. A wise duke named
Naimes speaks next, in more measured tones: since Marsile is in
effect already defeated, and is now begging for mercy, it would be
sinful to proceed. Charles asks whom they shall send as the
emissary. Duke Naimes immediately volunteers, but Charlemagne cannot
spare him. He needs the trusted councilor by his side. Roland
volunteers, but his friend Oliver, another one of the twelve peers,
voices disapproval, because Roland is far too hotheaded for the job.
Oliver volunteers. Charlemagne again vetoes these proposals, saying
he cannot spare any of the twelve peers. The warrior-archbishop
Turpin volunteers next, and is likewise shot down.
Roland nominates Ganelon, who is furious, and believes that
Roland wants him to do. He threatens Roland, but Roland coldly
dismisses the threat and says that he only sought a wise emissary.
He offers to go in Ganelon's place, which makes Ganelon angrier.
Ganelon accepts the task, certain that he will die. He tells
Charlemagne that he hates Roland, and he also hates Oliver and the
rest of the twelve peers because they love Roland. Charlemagne
rebukes him, insists on him going, and invests authority in him by
giving him his staff and his glove. But Ganelon drops the glove,
which the rest of the Franks take as an evil premonition.
Blessed by Charlemagne, Ganelon departs with staff and letter in
tow. During the journey, he talks to Blancandrin, and the two
villains plot Roland's death. Ganelon and Blancandrin go before
Marsile, who is seated outdoors and surrounded by opulence. The
meeting gets off to a rocky start, as Ganelon tells Marsile that if
he does not comply with Charles demands, he will be captured and
executed. Marsile is furious, and moves to strike Ganelon, but he is
restrained. Ganelon holds his ground, impressing the Saracens.
Marsile reads Charlemagne's letter aloud. Charlemagne bids him to
remember Basan and Basile, the executed Frankish emissaries, and
says that if he wishes to redeem his life, he should send his uncle
the caliph. Marsile's son demands the right to kill Ganelon for his
insolence; Ganelon brandishes his sword, ready to fight. But Marsile
goes into private council in his garden, where Blancandrin tells him
that Ganelon is willing to help them. They summon Ganelon into the
garden, and begin to plot Roland's death.
Analysis:
The Song of Roland is narrated in chronological order,
that is, in the same order in which the events take place. This kind
of narration is not as common as one might think: in most epics, we
begin in the middle of things and find out about past events as they
are recounted orally or mentally by characters. The Aeneid,
for example, starts with the Trojans already exiled and wandering at
sea, but later on characters recount in detail the fall of Troy. In
part, the approach used in the Aeneid has to do with the
tremendous amount of material epic poets are working with. Virgil is
dealing with a long and difficult quest for a promised land, with an
incredibly rich and long backstory that includes a ten-year war; to
create an effective and unified work of art, playing with the
timeline is often necessary.
There is no such play in The Song of Roland. Although we
are told that it is the seventh year of Charlemagne's war in Spain,
the poet fills in all necessary background immediately at the
beginning of the poem. Throughout the poem, there are no flashbacks,
no deviation from the story of Roland's battle and the revenge
exacted by his lord Charlemagne. This approach creates its own
problems.
Homer and Virgil are master storytellers: through playing with
the timeline, they create incredibly unified stories from vast and
rich material. The pacing is often breathtaking.
By choosing to narrate the story in the straightforward fashion,
the anonymous composer of The Song of Roland does not need to
worry about where and when to fill in backstory. But this approach
is also less exciting, and the poet risks writing an epic that
plods, dutifully but passionlessly, from start to finish. The scope
of events is grand, and the poem covers a long stretch of time.
What protects The Song of Roland from this kind of
uninspired pace is the rhythm the poet settles upon: he alternates
short, summary-style segments, without dialogue and condensing
longer periods of time, with much more detailed segments that read
almost like drama. So in this opening, we have all of the backstory
we need, summary style, in the first laisse. Immediately
following is Marsile's desperate council in Saragossa, which opens
with rich description of the setting, and then moves into passages
full of dialogue as the king and his councilors hatch their plan to
rid themselves of Charlemagne. Laisse 7 is another summary
piece, short and sweet, that condenses Blancandrin's voyage to King
Charles. What follows is Blancandrin's offer to King Charles and the
dramatic argument that ensues amongst Charlemagne and his vassals.
Dialogue dominates, and we are made to see the event as it unfolds.
Laisse 31 condenses the time of Ganelon's journey to
Saragossa, during which he agrees with Blancandrin to try to bring
about the death of Roland. The narrator reveals this development to
us, but we do not hear the dialogue when they actually make their
agreement. And then, all of a sudden, we are at the court of
Saragossa, where another series of dialogue-heavy laisses
ensues. This kind of rhythm is used throughout much of the poem.
One of the striking features of the poem is its symmetry, both in
structure and in its characters. The poem's two halves are dominated
by two battles, the first won by evil, the second one by good. The
epic starts in council as both sides decide what they will do; it
ends in council as Charles tries to decide what should be done in
the aftermath of his victory.
The same symmetry applies to characters. Our first encounters
with Charlemagne and Marsile set up the parallels between the two
men. Both are in repose in their gardens, surrounded by their
vassals. These parallels will be developed later. The composer of
the poem chooses to make the Saracens a mirror image of the
Christians, socially and religiously, and accuracy be damned. In the
poem, the Saracen answer to the Christian trinity is a villainous
trinity of Mohammed, Apollo, and Termagant (ignoring the fact that
Moslems could arguably be seen as more monotheistic than the
trinity-worshipping Christians). The Moslems become the evil mirror
image of the Christians, in every aspect of their beliefs and their
social organization.
The poet transposes medieval European feudalism on the Saracens'
social structure. In part, it is because the poet probably could not
imagine another social structure; inaccuracies of this kind were not
unique to depictions of exotic enemies, nor were they unique to the
poet who composed The Song of Roland. In Chaucer's
Canterbury Tales, for example, stories set in ancient Greece
have knights and feudal kings, and Shakespeare usually remolded his
more exotic settings into something more or less resembling
Elizabethan England.
In the case of The Song of Roland, imposing medieval
European social organization on the Moslems makes them more
accessible, or even sympathetic, as enemies. Feudalism carries with
it a system of beliefs and values that would have been immediately
recognizable to Europeans. Part of the composer's challenge is to
create a struggle between good and evil, with the Saracens
unambiguously evil, while maintaining the Saracen's status as a
formidable and respectable enemy. Feudal Saracens provides the
answer: they may be evil, Apollo-worshipping, dark-skinned devils,
but they have a concept of loyalty, tied to the bonds between lords
and vassals, that is not so different from values admired by the
poem's Christian audience.
And the poet sets up strong parallels between Charlemagne and
Marsile, and the way in which they rule. Both rely on their vassals
for council and support, although the final decision rests with the
monarch. Both have one particularly trusted advisor, Naimes for
Charlemagne and Blancandrin for Marsile. And both groups of men take
their identity and their honor from the land. Although the Sarcen
willingness to sacrifice their own sons to keep Spain reveals their
ruthlessness, it also shows an unsurprising devotion to land as the
foundation for manhood, honor, and nobility. Roland, remember,
displays a similar unwillingness to give up Spain. He is willing to
continue the war, even if it means losing more Christian lives,
because he has no trust for the Moslems and Spain is worth the
fight.
Note that suspense is not part of the pleasure of the poem. We
know Marsile will lose from the first laisse, and why: "He
serves Muhammed and calls upon Apollo. / He cannot prevent disaster
from overtaking him" (ll. 8-9). Likewise, we know from early on that
Ganelon is treacherous.
Readers looking for the rich character development found in epics
like the Mahabharata or the Iliad are likely to be
disappointed by The Song of Roland. Characters are sketched
for us with minimal strokes, and the richness of characterization
found in Homer or Virgil simply does not exist here. For this
reason, first meetings with the characters are important, as the
poet tries to establish character right away. Charles is the perfect
Christian feudal king, a warrior who is old but hale, generous with
his vassals and wise enough to seek their advice. Oliver, Roland's
companion and one of the twelve peers, is wise and prudent: he
councils against sending Roland as emissary, because of Roland's
fiery temper (ll. 255-7).
Roland is the poem's hero and most glamorous warrior. He is
lacking in some of the majesty of Charlemagne and lacks the wisdom
and intelligence of Oliver, but the poem, nonetheless, is about him.
He is hot-tempered, and known for it among Charlemagne's vassals.
"Your temperment is most hostile and fierce," says Oliver (l. 256),
and this coming from Roland's best friend. Roland is unwilling to
back away from a fight, even if it means the loss of lives, and this
fact exposes him to Ganelon's criticism: "He who advises that we
should reject this pact / Does not care, lord, whether we live or
die" (ll. 226-7). Roland's own advice to the king firmly rejects any
consideration of peace. "Wage war, as you set out to do," Roland
advises Charlemagne (l. 210), and we can be sure that this instance
represents the council he has given Charlemagne throughout the
years. But Roland's courage and fiery temper also make him
invaluable to the king. He has conquered countless lands in
Charlemagne's name, and his enemies fear him.
Remember that The Song of Roland was written at the dawn
of the Crusades. The poem is designed to get Christians riled: the
intent is not to praise men like Oliver, but to glorify men like
Roland. Roland, because of all of his virtues and faults, is exactly
the kind of man needed for the Crusades: a man willing to die, and
sacrifice the lives of others as well, for land and glory. A man who
rejects any chance of peace. A man without moderation or mercy, but
fearless and completely loyal to his king and Church.
Ganelon's motives for wanting to betray Roland are never stated
explicitly, but because this first scene in Charlemagne's court
reads almost like drama, no explicit explanation is needed. We can
only assume, from his quickness to take offense and his damning
criticism of Roland, that Ganelon has had longstanding jealousy and
hatred for Roland. Almost nothing about their past together is
discussed: we know only that Ganelon is his stepfather, but when and
how their enmity started remains unexplained.
However, looking at the scene where the Franks choose Ganelon as
emissary, the reader can easily see how jealousy of Roland could
harden into hatred. Charlemagne strictly forbids many of his
volunteers from going as emissary. Speaking to Roland and Oliver, he
refuses to even consider risking the lives of these dear friends:
"Be silent, both of you; / Neither you nor he will set foot there.
By this white beard of mine which you see, / The twelve peers are
not to be nominated" (ll. 259-62). Charles is bearing in mind the
last time he sent emissaries to Marsile. The Saracen king had
Charles' ambassadors beheaded.
And yet, a moment later, Charlemagne shows that he has no problem
sending Ganelon. Ganelon, in a moment of self-dramatization, reveals
that he does not believe he will return alive. The king does not
even seem to take him seriously, and almost seems to be mocking him:
"You are very soft-hearted / You must go, since it is my command"
(ll. 317-8). He refuses to take Ganelon's fear of death seriously,
and yet a moment earlier he refused to let the twelve peers risk
such a dangerous mission. The implication is clear to Ganelon: he is
expendable in a way that the twelve peers aren't. The peers have the
king's respect and love. When Ganelon lashes out against Roland,
claiming that Roland has nominated him for the mission in hopes of
being rid of him, Charlemagne only replies that Ganelon is being
disagreeable. The frustration Ganelon must feel is easy to imagine:
no matter what he does, no matter how he rages, the king cannot be
bothered to worry about his anger. Charlemagne loves the twelve
peers, while Ganelon is expendable. Although the poet does not delve
into rich psychological characterization, Ganelon's nomination gives
us a succinct portrait of rage and jealousy. His betrayal or Roland,
despite the lack of information on the two characters' history
together, is believable.
Second Section
(Laisses 39-87, lines 512-1109):
Summary:
Marsile apologizes for his earlier anger and promises great
wealth to Ganelon. Marsile asks Ganelon three times if the
two-hundred-year-old Charles will ever tire of war; Ganelon replies
that Charles will continue to wage war as long as Roland is alive.
Ganelon suggests an ambush: as Charles pulls out of Spain, going
through the pass of Cize, he will live a rearguard of
twenty-thousand men, led by Roland and Oliver. Marsile should attack
the rearguard with a force of a hundred thousand pagans.
Ganelon returns to Charles, bearing gifts from Marsile. The
traitor claims that the Marsile's uncle the caliph, along with four
hundred thousand Moslems, died in a God-sent sea storm. The Franks
celebrate, suspecting nothing.
As the Franks are withdrawing, heading toward the pass of Cize,
Charles has strange dreams. He dreams that at the pass of Cize
Ganelon seized and broke the king's ash lash. He also dreams that he
is at Aix. A boar bites his right arm, and a leopard come from the
direction of the Ardennes and attacks him; then, a hunting dog
appears and fights the other two animals.
The next day, when Charles asks who should head the rearguard,
Ganelon nominates Roland. Roland excepts, although his comment
indicate that he is angry at his uncle. He willingly take the king's
lance, making a show of not dropping it, as Ganelon dropped the
king's glove. He refuses the king's offers of retaining a large
force. Oliver will join Roland, as will the archbishop. Other
volunteers to stay include the rest of the twelve peers: Anseis,
Berenger, Engeler, Gerin, Gerer, Gerard of Roussillon, Oliver, Oton,
Samson, Yvon, and Yvoire.
Gautier patrols the heights. Charles treks back toward France,
and when at last the men see their native land, they weep. Charles
is anxious about his dreams; he fears that they portend treachery
and Roland's death.
Marsile assembles his men. Marsile's nephew wants to strike at
Roland first. He asks Marsile to select twelve barons to lead the
Moslem force. The barons are described in some detail; Falsaron,
Corsalis, Malprimis, the emir of Balaguer, an alcamor from Moriane,
Rugis, Escremiz, Estorgans, Estramariz, Margariz, and Chernubles.
The Christians hear the Moslem force approaching, and Roland
welcomes the chance for battle. He has absolute confidence that they
will win: "The pagans are wrong and the Christians are right" (l.
1015). On the hill, Oliver sees the Moslem army and reports that
their force is vast. He asks Roland to blow his oliphant horn to
summon Charlemagne's forces, but Roland refuses. Oliver pleads for
Roland to blow the horn, but Roland will do no such thing. They will
fight this battle alone.
Analysis:
Note that Charlemagne has become a figure of Biblical
proportions. Marsile expresses awe of him, for Charlemagne continues
to fight even though he is more than two hundred years old (l. 539).
Like a Biblical patriarch, Charlemagne lives an impossibly long
life.
Ganelon's betrayal of Roland is motivated both by jealousy and
greed. Jealousy is undoubtedly the primary motivation, but the
monetary reward he receives links him to the first traitor of
Christianity, Judas, who received thirty pieces of silver for
betraying Christ. Additionally, the description of the reward, which
takes the form of varied exotic goods, gives the poet a chance to
describe wonders from the Orient. Remember that part of the
motivation for the Crusades was a lust for foreign goods and a
desire to see foreign lands.
Charlemagne's dreams, sent by angels, are accurate predictions of
the future. In the first dream, the lance of Charlemagne symbolizes
Roland. In the second dream, the leopard and the boar (one beast
exotic and African, the other native) symbolize Marsile and Ganelon.
The hunting dog is Roland, and the king's injury symbolizes what he
will lose: he is bitten on his right arm. Earlier in the poem,
Ganelon said that if Charlemagne lost Roland, he would lose his
right arm (ll. 596-7).
The virtue of duty is emphasized by the troops reaction on their
return to France. The troops weep openly when they see their homes.
They are not warmongers, hungry for combat; at the end of the poem,
when told that he will have to wage another campaign, Charles reacts
with sorrow and weariness. The fight against paganism is a question
of Christian duty. Although the battle scenes are described with
unmistakable pleasure (they'd be rather tedious to read otherwise),
elsewhere in the poem we see a longing for home and peace.
The symmetry between the Franks and the Moslems continues to be
striking. The Moslems have twelve companions to match the twelve
peers; in fact, we learn more about the Moslem equivalents of the
twelve peers than we do about the twelve peers themselves.
Charlemagne's faith and love are enough to tell us all we need to
know about the twelve peers, but the poet takes a moment to describe
the terrible enemy in a more direct way. However, these descriptions
are for color and excitement rather than for any nuanced
understanding of the enemy. The descriptions of the enemy remain
fairly one-dimensional. Describing the Almacor from Oriane, the poet
says "No one in the land of Spain is more treacherous" (l. 910).
Estorgans and Estramariz are described as "felons, wretched
traitors" (l. 941). The villains are as dastardly as they come. But
these must also be worthy foes for the Christians. What virtues they
have, therefore, are feudal virtues like loyalty to their lord and
courage on the battlefield. If praising a Moslem, the poet speaks in
terms of qualified admiration: "Had he been a Christian, he would
have been a worthy baron" (l. 899).
Roland and Oliver exemplify different virtues. Oliver urges
caution; wisdom and restraint are part of what makes him a good
night. We have seen this side of Oliver already: during the council
with Charlemagne, he argues against sending Roland as emissary
because of Roland's hotheadedness. Roland refuses to be cautious. He
states that because God is on their side, they will crush the
Moslems (in spite of the fact that the Moslems outnumber them five
to one). Whether he honestly believes that or not is beside the
point. The poet praises both Roland and Oliver: "Roland is brave and
Oliver is wise; / Both are marvelous vassals" (ll. 1093-4).
And yet the poem makes Roland a hero, and locks Oliver firmly
into place as his sidekick. Arguably, Roland's love of honor and his
unshakable faith in his troops lead to his death and the death of
all of his troops. Had he heeded Oliver, the Christians might have
brought about a Moslem defeat without such a massive loss of
Christian life. But the epic belongs to Roland and not to Oliver,
and it is Roland who is escorted up to heaven by angels after his
death. Later, we will examine in greater detail why the poem
celebrates Roland and his particular kind of virtue.
The scene of Oliver's sighting of the enemy and pleading with
Roland is an example of a technique unique to The Song of
Roland, the parallel laisses. The term is not precise;
its key characteristic is a slowing of the pace of narrative and a
formula of repetition. Laisses 80 and 81 both start with
Oliver at the top of a hill. In both laisses, he reports
seeing a vast pagan host. Laisses 83-5 focus on Oliver's
request that Roland blow his horn. The request is repeated and
refused three times, in very similar terms. But the reader does not
have the sense of three requests: rather, one feels that the poet is
slowing down his pace and focusing on a single moment, that of
Oliver's conversation with Roland, and offering three varying
versions of it. The effect is something like a stutter, or a film
sequence in slow motion, or, better yet, a film sequence cut so that
the same event is seen multiple times from different angles. The
consecutive laisses overlap, seeming to repeat partially, but
not completely, the same description. The poet will use this
technique to great effect during Roland's death scene. At other
times, the technique seems merely to be repetition, rather than
overlapping versions of the same moment. For example, Charlemagne's
mourning for Roland in laisses 209-11 works well as a
continuous ritualized outpouring of grief.
Third Section
(Laisses 88-138, lines 1110-1841):
Summary:
Roland, ready for battle, encourages his men to fight bravely. He
readies his sword, Durendal. Archbishop Turin tells the men to ask
forgiveness for their sins, for which he will absolve them, and
promises that all who die will be rewarded with martyrdom and a
place in heaven. Roland reminds them of the spoils they will win.
Oliver, protesting one last time, tells the men to fight bravely.
The two armies clash.
Marsile's nephew, Aelroth, insults the Franks, and an angry
Roland immediately dispatches him for it. Falsaron, Marsile's
brother, is killed by Oliver. Archbishop Turin kills King Corsablix.
Gerin dispatches Malprimis of Brigal. Gerer kills the emir. Duke
Samson defeats the almacor. Anseis kills Turgis of Turteluse.
Engeler kills Escremiz. Oton slays Estorgans. Berenger strikes down
Estramariz. Ten of the twelve Saracen peers are dead: only
Chernubles and Count Margariz remain.
Margariz makes for Oliver. He smashes through Oliver's shield,
penetrates his armor, and destroys his lance. Only God's
intervention protects Oliver from being seriously wounded.
Meanwhile, Roland is fighting so fiercely that he wears his own
lance to splinters. He fights with his sword, Durendal, and kills
Chernubles. The twelve peers fight bravely. Oliver, too, wears his
lance down to a stub, and then at Roland's suggestion unsheathes his
sword, Halteclere.
The battle goes on, with the Franks slaughtering the pagans even
though the Christian force is vastly outnumbered. But the Franks,
too, suffer heavy casualties: "How many lives of fine young Franks
are lost!" (l. 1401). Midbattle, the poet breaks to remind us that
all of this carnage was caused by Ganelon's treachery, but assures
us that Ganelon will get his in the end: "In the trial at Aix he was
condemned to hang / And thirty of his relatives with him" (ll.
1409-10). In France, as the battle in Spain continues, storms and
earthquakes ravage the land. The disasters are signs of God's
sadness for Roland.
An even larger pagan force, led by Marsile, appears on the
horizon. The battle now begins to turn against the Christians. The
archbishop is the first to dive into battle against the new force,
and he kills the mighty pagan Abisme. The courage of the Franks
begins to falter, and Turpin tries to encourage them. He tells them
that death is certain for all of the Christians on the field, but
paradise awaits them. They must fight bravely.
The pagan Climborin kills Engeler, one of the twelve peers.
Oliver avenges him. The pagan Valdebrun kills Samson, another one of
the twelve peers. Roland avenges him. Malquiant, an African, slays
Anseis. Anseis is avenged by Archbishop Turpin. A mighty pagan named
Grandonie kills a number of Franks, including three of the twelve
peers: Gerin, Gerer, and Berenger. The Franks are falling fast.
Roland charges after Grandonie and defeats him. He and Oliver work
themselves into such a great frenzy that the Moslem forces begin to
retreat. With the Archbishop, Roland and Oliver head up a strong
offensive: "Those whom they kill cannot easily be counted. / It is
written in the charters and records, / That, as the annals state,
there were four thousand" (ll. 1683-5). But the Franks suffer heavy
losses, until only a handful are left, and Roland tells Oliver that
he wants to blow the oliphant to call for Charlemagne's help. Oliver
condemns the action as coming too late to do any good. The two
friends argue, but the Archbishop begs them to set aside their
anger. Although blowing the horn will not save the rearguard, the
Archbishop says, at least Charlemagne will hear the horn and come to
avenge their deaths. The Franks can also come back and bury their
dead.
Roland blows the horn. The effort is so intense his temples
burst: three times, Charlemagne hears the horn. Each time, Ganelon
denies that the sound indicates a battle. Finally, Duke Naimes says
that Roland, to continue blowing so long, would need to be in great
danger. Duke Naimes also says that Ganelon's advice reveals that he
has betrayed Roland. Charlemagne and the Franks prepare for battle.
Charlemagne has Ganelon chained and put in the custody of the cooks.
The main Frankish force sets off, but they are too late.
Analysis:
Religion and faith animate every aspect of The Song of
Roland. Remember the poem's place as a piece of propaganda for
the Crusades: significantly, the battle opens with Archbishop Turin
promising salvation to the Franks. He absolves them, en masse, of
their sins, and then promises that any who die will be given the
glorious rewards due to martyrs. His promise is not only for the
Franks, but for the poem's audience. All who listen are meant to be
stirred to set off to fight for their Church. Roland adds to this
reward, promising that victory will mean glorious spoils. Oliver
speaks, reminding them of the value of duty and courage. All of this
encouragement has two audiences: the Franks in the poem, and the
French nobles listening to the poem. The poem is explicitly a piece
of propaganda.
The battle scenes are described with striking detail. Although
the poet does not make use of metaphor or simile, and very rarely
gives us psychology, he does give us a fair amount of rich visual
detail. Armor is described to its fine points; he also dwells on the
noble faces and physical presence of the knights on both sides. We
hear vivid descriptions of knights raising flags, giving their
battle cries ("Monjoie!" for the Franks) and insulting each other
before battle. War becomes pageantry.
The descriptions of the battles follow a pattern. The battle is
described not in terms of troop movements or grand strategy; for all
of its vividness, the battle is impossible to recreate on a map.
Instead, the poet describes the battle in terms of separate combats,
knight-to-knight, with each combat lasting exactly one
laisse. In the beginning of the battle, the Franks fare well.
The twelve peers of Charlemagne crush the twelve Saracent peers. In
a series of single combats, ten of the twelve Saracen peers are
swiftly killed by their Frankish counterparts. This method of
description turns the battle into more of a tournament than a war.
Rather than the brutal chaos of war, the poet gives us a kind of
combat where chivalry matters. Fights are one-on-one, man-to-man.
There is time for Saracens to insult Frankish honor, and time for
the Franks to answer the insults by killing the Saracens.
This fairly ritualized account of battle is juxtaposed to a very
gory descriptive style. Some of the killing blows are violent to
fantastic extremes. Roland, after hearing Aelroth's insults to
Franksih honor, delivers a deathblow that is almost comically
brutal: "He breaks his shield and hauberk open; / He splits his
breast and shatters all his bones, / Severing from his back his
entire spine" (ll. 1199-1201). The ritualized account of battle
comes alongside the incredibly gory descriptions of death. But the
gore becomes part of the ceremonial character of the poem: one could
hardly call this descriptive style "realistic." It is first and
foremost vivid, and helps to liven up the battle scene, which
otherwise would be monotonous.
The poet takes pains to show the superiority of the Frankish
knights. We go down the list of battles between the twelve peers on
both sides, and the Frankish twelve peers smash through the Saracens
quickly. The poet is so busy showing the superiority of the Franks
that we're someone shocked to learn that only sixty Franks are left
by laisse 127. The reversal seems to happen while we are not
watching. Marsile arrives with a greater force in laisse 111,
but even so it takes time for the Franks to begin to lose the
battle. Starting in laisse 117, we witness the deaths of
three of the twelve peers. Their deaths are avenged by Roland,
Oliver, and the Archbishop.
But the poet makes sure to remind us repeatedly that Roland and
his companions will lose. In laisse 110, he breaks from the
action to tell us that no help will come for Roland and the others,
and also to assure us that Ganelon will be punished for his
treachery. He also breaks to speak of the tremors and storms in
France, which show "great sorrow for the death of Roland" (l. 1437).
The Archbishop is one of the poem's more vivid characters. He is
a member of the clergy, but he is also a warrior, absolving the
troops of all of their sins one moment and then rushing into the
thick of battle in the next. At key points, he revives the spirits
of the troops. He defeats the fearsome pagan Abisme, inspiring the
troops (laisses 114-5). He reminds the troops after this duel
that they will die, but will wake in Paradise (ll. 1520-3). He is
made to look like the perfect embodiment of a holy man in the age of
the crusades: he is a metaphor the new, warlike church that will
lead the battle against Islam. His militant character reflects the
new direction the Church had taken since Pope Urban II's speech at
the Council of Clermont in 1095. Pope Urban II promised that war
against the Moslems was holy and that Christians who fought it would
be granted full penance. The Archbishop is both warrior and sage. He
intercedes when Roland Oliver begin to fight, reminding the two
knights that their real enemy is the pagan horde.
Now, Roland belatedly blows the horn. Many modern readers cannot
resolve the contradiction of the poem: Roland refuses to blow the
horn earlier over a question of honor, dooming his army. Yet he ends
up blowing the horn anyway. His delay costs the lives of twenty
thousand Christian. Oliver is furious about it, and condemns
Roland's vacillations.
But Roland's heroism has nothing to do with sound
decision-making. He, and not Oliver, is mourned by God himself. And
the Archbishop's advice about blowing the horn sidesteps the issues
of honor and loss of life: blowing the horn late does not lead to a
loss of honor, because Charlemagne needs to know what has happened.
Part of the feudal system of values is that a good liege lord
avenges loyal vassals.
Roland's virtue is courage, and his brand of courage is one that
modern readers will most probably associate with fanaticism.
Militarily, he makes a bad decision. He sacrifices twenty-thousand
lives because of faith and a love for honor. But we must also
remember The Song of Roland's place as a piece of propaganda.
Roland is exactly the kind of man that the Church needed at the time
of the poem's composition. The poem was written sometime in the
eleventh or twelfth centuries, with most scholars estimating the
date of composition as somewhere between 1098-1100. This time is the
era of the First Crusade. The poem is meant to inspire its audience
to acts of courage. The poem celebrates courage, zeal, and faith to
one's lord above the kind of virtue possessed by Oliver. According
to the poem, bravery is more important than wisdom, as shown by the
fact that God himself mourns for Roland.
The position of the narrator is worth examining. The narrator
does not claim to be an eyewitness to the events of the song, but he
does invoke annals to lend his story authority. Giving the death
count, the speaker says "Those whom they killed can be easily
counted. / It is written in the charters and records, / That, as the
annals state, there were four thousand" (ll. 1683-5). History is
alluded to for effect, for grandeur. The poem has very little to do
with actual historical events, but the vague allusions to "annals"
and "records" make the audience feel as if they are hearing the
story of one of history's great moments.
Fourth Section
(Laisses 139-176; lines 1841-2396):
Summary:
Roland mourns the deaths of his men, and spurs himself on to kill
as many Moslems as he can. Marsile fights fiercely as well, killing
several of the twelve peers. Roland's fierce response terrifies the
pagans, and a hundred thousand of them, including Marsile, flee. But
his uncle Marganice remains, along with his fearsome entourage of
troops from Africa. His assembly of warriors includes the contingent
from "accursed" Ethiopia, where the men are black and have "large
noses and broad ears" (l. 1918). The sight of them unsettles even
Roland, who feels certain that the Franks will die. The Ethiopians
alone number fifty thousand, and the Franks have only sixty men
left.
Marganice battles Oliver, and manages to mortally wound him, but
the dying Oliver strikes Marganice a lethal blow. He calls for
Roland's help. Oliver fights on, asking Roland to come and fight by
his side one last time. On seeing Oliver wounded, Roland faints, but
he is so securely strapped to his horse that he cannot fall off.
Oliver's sight is so blurred that he cannot recognize Roland, and
strikes him a might blow; luckily, Roland is not hurt. When he hears
Roland's voice, he apologizes to him. Roland forgives him, and they
bow to each other. Oliver dies, and Roland bellows and wails in
grief. He faints again.
Now all the Franks are dead, save three: Roland, Gautier, and the
Archbishop. The three make a last stand. Gautier is killed by the
first volley of lances and spears; the Archbishop fights on bravely,
despite being horribly wounded. Roland and the Archbishop fight on.
Roland's temples are burst from his last attempt to blow the
oliphant, but he blows the horn again, feebly. Far away, Charles
hears it, and orders his men to blow their horns in reply. The sound
frightens the pagans, who know now that Charlemagne is coming. The
pagans let loose a volley of missile weapons, killing Roland's horse
right from under him. They flee, and Roland has no way to pursue. He
tries to make the Archbishop comfortable, and then goes to search
for the bodies of their dear friends. He brings the bodies of the
twelve peers back to the Archbishop, who absolves them. Roland weeps
and swoons again. The Archbishop goes to get water for him from a
stream. On the way there, he collapses, confesses his sins, and
dies. Roland wakes and mourns for him.
Roland climbs a hill, faces Spain, grasps his sword and his
oliphant, and collapses. A pagan who was playing dead attacks him,
but Roland comes to and kills him. Roland begins to strike mighty
blows against a stone nearby, recounting the many victories he won
for Charles. He hopes to break the sword because he fears it will
fall into pagan hands; the sword is full of holy relics. He wears
down the stone, but the sword does not break. Roland senses death is
near. He confesses his sins. He holds his right glove up to God, and
Angels come down to him from heaven. He lays down beneath the pine
tree, turns to face Spain, and reflects on his life and struggles.
He dies. A cherubin angel, along with Saints Michael and Gabriel,
come down to bring his soul to heaven.
Analysis:
The exotic detail of "accursed" Ethiopians is supposed to
contribute to an aura of fear. Evil here is foreign, strange, and
dark-skinned; a recurring themes of the poem is this equation of
evil with foreignness. Evil and foreign are the same thing; this
conception of evil is consistent with the aims of the poem, which
include inciting Christians to go fight a war against the exotic and
sinister forces of Islam.
Things become quite grim for the Christians in this section. We
are reaching the deaths of the major characters now (Oliver, the
Archbishop, and Rolan), and so more time is spent on each death
scene. Christianity permeates the poem even more as the heroes face
the next life. Vitally important is the need for each of these
characters to confess their sins, even as they die, so that they can
be absolved of their wrongdoing before going on to the next world.
Note that Roland, though brave, is no heartless killing machine,
nor is he a Stoic. He feels deeply for the loss of life, weeping and
even fainting when his dear ones are killed. Oliver's death is one
of the most beautiful passages of the whole poem. The scene
preceding is about forgiveness. Oliver has accidentally struck
Roland, and the wound is a metaphor for the hurt friends do to each
other though they have the best intentions. Remember that Roland and
Oliver have fought about Roland's command decisions and temperament.
But in the end, Oliver leaves this world speaking words of love. The
forgiveness between friends parallels the powerful theme of
forgiveness in Christianity; just as God forgives the penitent, a
good Christian pardons others.
Roland's death scene is hailed by many as the poem's greatest
moment. It is the climax of the poem, and it occurs when the poem is
only half-over. Some scholars have argued that the second half of
the poem, detailing Charlemagne's revenge, was composed and added by
a different poet.
Honor remains important to the knight right to the end: he tries
to destroy his sword rather than let it fall into enemy hands. He
also takes time to recount his victories. The list serves both to
show the importance of honor to Roland, while establishing for the
audience that he was Charlemagne's greatest warrior. Finally, Roland
dies facing the enemy, looking out at the land he died to defend in
Charlemagne's name.
The pace slows significantly for this climactic scene. The poet
often alternates short, summary-style segments with play-by-play
detailed description of a scene. Roland's death, as the great moment
of the poem, is narrated slowly, with care. We seem to watch the
death repeatedly, and in slow motion.
The poet makes use of repetition to heighten the drama of the
moment; there is something of a stutter-effect in the scene, as we
read consecutive laisses that at times seem to be delivering
different versions of the same moment. The effect is akin to slow
motion in film, or doing a rapidly cut sequence with the same action
filmed from three different angles. For example, Roland strikes
Durendal against stone in laisses 171-3, and the poet's play
with tense has no known precedent in earlier literature. The speaker
ceases to describe events as following one another successively:
instead, we see the same event three times, described with slight
difference. In laisse 171, we hear that "The steel grates,
but does not break or become notched" (l. 2302). A similar statement
is made in both following laisses, but the poet is not merely
saying that Roland is continuously striking the stone. Following
each of the three statements on the sword's vulnerability, Roland
sees that it cannot break and mourns, with slightly different words.
There is no attention to "naturalistic" narrative here. We are
seeing a moment, described three different ways. The same can be
said for Roland's death. Three times, the poet tells us that Roland
hands his right glove to God (lines 2365, 2373, and 2389). The poet
tells us twice, in two consecutive laisses that angels come
down to Roland (line 2374 and 2393-6). This method is sometimes
jarring for modern readers, but it is one of the great
distinguishing characteristics of the poem. The gesture of lifting
the right glove to God is a powerful metaphor for Roland's place.
The gesture was traditionally made by vassals to their lords: in
offering his right glove to the Lord, Roland is showing that his
first and most important liege lord is God. The gesture
metaphorically joins Christianity with feudalism, in a way that
suits perfectly its function as a piece of Church propaganda. The
poet, by way of art, makes the warrior values of the knights
parallel the values of Christianity. To serve a Christian king on
the field of battle is to serve God.
Important is the fact that Roland dies unvanquished. No enemy has
directly defeated him; he has died from the accumulation of wounds,
including the wound he inflicted on himself blowing the oliphant.
Also significant is Roland's focus on his faith. He weeps for the
life he will lose, the life that will end, but forces himself to pay
attention to the next world: "He cannot help weeping and heaving
great sighs; / But he does not wish to be unmindful of himself" (ll.
2381-2). He needs to focus and confess his sins. Roland exemplifies
a certain set of values: Christian, loyal to the death, bold. He is
the hero whom angels (a cherubin no less, one of the highest angels
in the celestial hierarchy) and saints escort directly to heaven.
Despite his errors, his courage and perfect loyalty make him a
perfect soldier and Christian.
Fifth Section
(Laisses 177-186; lines 2397-2569):
Summary:
Charlemagne and his army arrive to find the fields of the dead at
Rencesvals. There is great mourning for the dead, and Charles
decides to pursue the enemy. He leaves a contingent of men in charge
of guarding the bodies, and then sets off in hot pursuit of the
pagans. He prays to God for aid, and God performs a great miracle:
he stops the sun's movement, prolonging daylight so that the French
can catch up to the Saracens. They catch the Saracens in the Val
Tenebro, and the slaughter begins. Many of the pagans drown in the
River Ebro as they try to escape. The Christians enjoy great wealth.
The Franks make camp in the Val Tenebro, exhausted. Charles remains
in full armor. The poet takes a moment to describe Charlemagne's
sword, Jouise: embedded in its pommel a piece of the lance that
pierced Christ.
Charlemagne has strange dreams that night, sent by Angels. He
sees a great battle between his army and an array of terrifying
beasts; the dream does not make clear who will win. In his second
dream, he sees a chained bear. Thirty bears descend from the hills,
and ask to have the bear back again. From Charlemagne's palace a
hunting dog comes, attacking the largest of the bears. Again,
Charlemagne cannot see who wins.
Analysis:
The mourning for the dead is heartfelt, intense. Many of the men
swoon, and Charles feels incredible sorrow for the deaths of his
men. Military prowess in this poem has nothing to do with Stoicism,
or repression of tender feelings. The weeping for the dead is seen
as natural, human. Deep feeling speaks well for a soldier; there is
no need to hide tender emotions. Charlemagne, the warrior-king par
excellence, grieves deeply for his men: "He tugs at his beard like a
men beset with grief" (l. 2414).
But grief must be channeled into war. We come here to a theme of
the poem and one of the most important parts of the feudal system of
values: revenge. Part of a liege lord's duty is to avenge his
vassals after their death, and there is no time to lose. Without
even enough time to bury the dead, Charlemagne sets off in hot
pursuit of the fleeing pagan horde. The one-sidedness of the battle,
plus God's miraculous intervention with the sun, re-establishes
soundly that the Lord will side with the Christians. For reasons we
cannot understand, He has allowed a pagan victory; but here, wrong
is set right and pagans are killed in droves.
The splinter from the lance that killed Christ reflects the time
of the poem's composition. During the Crusades, knights returned
from the Holy Land bearing countless relics of dubious origin. Many
carried supposed pieces of the one true cross, or the lance that
pierced Christ's side; any piece of wood found in or around
Jerusalem was likely to have fantastic claims made about its origin.
The relics supposedly had great powers as well, and Charlemagne's
possession of such a valuable item adds to his grandeur as a ruler.
Once again, Charles has God-sent dreams. His dream of his army
being attacked by beasts anticipates the fight against the Emir. The
dream about the bears predicts Ganelon's trial. The bear is Ganelon,
the thirty bears are his kinsmen, the large bear who fights is
Pinabel, and the loyal hunting dog is Thierry. The fact that the
hunting dog comes from the direction of the palace takes ambiguity
from the dream: the hunting dog, Thierry, is loyal, while the others
are enemies of goodness. But God does not show the ending of these
dreams. One interpretation of the dreams' ambiguity is that it is up
to Charlemagne to secure victories. Another interpretation is that
the dreams' ambiguity creates more sympathy for Charlemagne. God may
know the future, but Charles does not see the future with any more
definitiveness than the rest of us. He therefore goes into battle
with as much fear as a normal man. Often the poem juxtaposes
Charles' godlike strength with vulnerability. He has the age of a
biblical patriarch, which makes him seem both awesome and frail: in
his mourning he seems much like a weary grandfather.
Sixth Section
(Laisses 187-214; Lines 2570-2973):
Summary:
Marsile returns to Saragossa, badly wounded. He has lost his
right hand. The Moslems weep because of their losses; the desecrate
the statues of Apollo, Tervagant, and Muhammad. They are sure they
will lose the war.
But years ago, Marsile wrote to the emir of Babylon, Baligant,
begging for aid. Now Baligant has finally arrived, with a vast pagan
host. The force lands, and then Baligant sends his knights Clarifan
and Clarien to tell Marsile that the emir will make war against
Charlemagne. Bramimonde, Marsile's wife, receives them coldly. When
they great her in the name of their gods, she says that their gods
have abandoned them. When the messengers say the emir will hunt
Charles down, she informs them that Charles is no more than seven
leagues away, and that he fears no one. Because Marsile is wounded,
Baligant comes to meet him. Marsile surrenders all his lands to him.
Meanwhile, the Franks are tending to their dead. Charles seeks
out the body of Roland, remembering that Roland once promised that
if killed on foreign soil, he would advance beyond all the men and
die facing the enemy. Charlemagne finds Roland, and mourns bitterly
for his nephew. He fears he will not be able to carry on without the
help of his best knight. Wise Duke Naimes is by the king's side,
offering comfort and advice. The bodies are buried. But Roland, the
Archbishop, and Oliver receive special treatment. Their sacred
hearts are removed and wrapped in silk, and the bodies are prepared
specially, wrapped in silk, and put in carts so that they can be
brought home.
Analysis:
Marsile's wound continues the development of symmetry between
Frank and Saracen. The Franks have their revenge against the
Saracens of Spain: just as Charlemagne has metaphorically lost his
right hand in Roland's death, Marsile has literally lost his right
hand. But the symmetry diverges here. While Charlemagne, in part
through God's support, is able to turn his grief into action,
Marsile is a broken man. He hands over his control of Saragossa to
Baligant, and leaves the fighting to the emir. His people have
apparently lost faith in their gods, as well. Their despair is
total.
Bramimonde's fiery moments here foreshadow her later conversion
to Christianity. When she speaks, it becomes clear that she no
longer follows the Saracens' gods: "These gods of ours have
abandoned the fight; / At Rencesvals their powers deserted them"
(ll. 2715-6). She has lost faith in the pagan trinity, and she
speaks so highly of Charles that Marsile orders her to be silent (l.
2741). Interestingly enough, she cites Rencesvals, sight of Roland's
death, as the place where the pagans' gods served them no longer.
Though the rearguard was annihilated (and the event is based on what
was historically a serious setback for Charlemagne), the poet
manages to turn Rencesvals into a victory. Because the rearguard
killed so many heathens, and because that battle has led to
Charlemagne taking great action against Marsile, Bramimonde sees
correctly that the Christians have won the day. The setback of
Rencesvals becomes part of God's divine plan, instrument of
Charlemagne's eventual victory and of Roland's glorious ascent into
heaven.
Charlemagne continues to be an immensely likable and powerful
figure. He weeps and faints for his lost love ones, and the poet
uses the laisses similaires here. Laisses 209-211 all
begin with the address, "Beloved Roland," as the king calls out to
his dead nephew. The king mourns his nephew Roland three times in
similar, but not identical, ways.
Baligant's arrival seems somewhat sudden, but it is foreshadowed
in Charlemagne's dream of his army being attacked by beasts. In this
dream, Charlemagne himself squared off against the most terrible of
the beasts. The emir is as powerful a figure in the Moslem world as
Charles is in Christendom. Like Charlemagne, he commands countless
contingents from distant lands. Like Charles, he is as ancient as a
Biblical patriarch: "He is the old emir, a man of great age, / Who
has outlived both Virgil and Homer" (ll. 2615-7). Baligant is brave
and determined, even honorable. His arrival, though sudden, makes
sense given the symmetry that is elsewhere in the poem. Charlemagne
needs to avenge Roland; it is nothing less than a good liege lord's
obligation. And to keep the poem interesting, Charlemagne needs a
worthy adversary. He gets no less than the leader of Islam.
Seventh Section
(Laisses 215-72; lines 2974-3674):
Summary:
The pagans arrive. Charlemagne puts trust in his vassals,
delegating responsibility and asking Rabel and Guineman to take on
the responsibilities of Roland and Oliver. Following is a lengthy
description of the troops assembled on both sides: on the Frankish
side, valiant knights from all over Christendom are ready to fight.
Charlemagne prays to God for victory. On the pagan side, heathen
knights from all kinds of exotic and strange lands prepare for
battle. Malprimis, son of Baligant, requests the honor of first
strike, and Baligant grants it. Malprimis will bring Torleu, King of
Persia, and Dapamort, King of Lycia, to head up the front line.
There is more organization of divisions, and then the battle begins.
Rabel kills Torleu. Dapamort is slain by Guineman. Malprimis
makes his way toward Charles, and both Charles and Baligant call out
encouraging words to their troops. Duke Naimes kills Malprimis.
Canabeus, brother of the emir, wounds Naimes horribly; only divine
intervention saves Naimes's life. Charles is horrified to see his
good friend so hurt, and kills Canabeus. The emir himself slaughters
Guineman.
The battle escalates. Gemalfin, a trusted counselor of the emir,
informs him that his brother Canabeus and son Malprimis are dead.
Baligant grieves. He asks his trusted friend Jangleu if they will
win the day, and Jangleu tells Baligant that their gods will not
help them: Charles and his Franks will kill them all. Baligant's
resolve is unshaken: "Come what may, he does not wish to hide" (l.
3522). He blows his bugle, rallying his troops, and they mount a
brutal assault against the Franks. Count Ogier scolds Charlemagne,
reminding him that they must avenge these deaths. They fight boldly,
and Count Ogier strikes down Amborre, bringing the dragon pennon to
the ground. On seeing Muhammad's standard fall, Baligant "begins to
realize / That he is wrong and Charlemagne right" (ll. 3553-4).
The battle continues on through the day, and evening falls. As
Charles calls out "Monjoie," the Frankish battle cry, and Baligant
calls out "Precieuse," the pagan battle cry, the two kings recognize
each other's strong voices. They clash, shattering each other's
shields and knocking each other off of their horses. They get up and
fight with their swords. Each offers the other a chance to be his
vassal in exchange for peace, but both offers are refused. Baligant
delivers Charlemagne a powerful blow, exposing the Frankish king's
skull, but the angel Gabriel speaks words of encouragement in the
king's ear. Charlemagne smashes Baligant's skull. The pagans retreat
and the Franks give chase, slaughtering almost all of them.
The chase goes all the way back to Saragossa. Marsile and
Bramimonde are horrified by the sight; Marsile dies of grief, and
the devils carry his soul to hell. The Franks take Saragossa.
Bramimonde surrenders the keys to the towers. The Christians smash
the holy relics of the Jews and the Moslems, and Charlemagne
proclaims that those who do not convert to Christianity will be put
to death. Bramimonde is the exception. She will be taken to France
as captive, so that she can become a Christian by her own decision.
Analysis:
The symmetry between Baligant and Charlemagne continues. Just as
Charlemagne has a sword called "Joyeuse," in the pommel of which is
embedded a shard of the lance that killed Christ, Baligant has a
might sword called "Precieuse." In this case, the symmetry has
resulted from Baligant's imitation of Charlemagne: "From his
arrogance he gave it a name; / From that of Charles about which he
had heard / He gave it the name of Preciuse" ( ll. 3143-5).
Baligant's parroting of Charlemagne is an excellent way to keep the
poem's characteristic symmetry while making Baligant inferior to
Charlemagne. He imitates the Christian king, but from the poet's
diction indicates that considering himself equal to Charles is pure
presumption, coming "from his arrogance."
The equation of Evil with the exotic continues. In Baligant's
ranks there are truly fantastic creatures: "And the next [line is]
of the large-headed Milceni; / On their spines, along the middle of
their backs, / They are as bristly as pigs" (ll. 3221-3). We also
have the men from the Occian desert: "Their skins are as hard as
iron. / For this reason they scorn helmets and hauberks" (ll.
3249-50).
The scene of preparation alternates between Franks and Moslems,
with each side in turn preparing divisions from the farthest reaches
of the known world. We also have prayers for victory, and the two
rulers giving encouraging talks to their men.
As with the battle at Rencesvals, the poem's account of war is
ritualized, rhythmic. Usually, one laisse is devoted to the
combat between two men: we have the men moving toward each other,
the clash, and one death. The climactic battle takes longer: the
battle between Charlemagne and Baligant takes five laisses.
God is conceived of by both sides as an intervener, and events on
earth, even without miraculous intervention, are ascribed to him.
Baligant begins to fear he might be wrong when he sees the standard
of Muhammad fall. Like Bramimonde earlier, who took the Saracen loss
as proof that the gods had abandoned them, Baligant ascribes earthly
events to divine antecedents.
In the final battle between Charlemagne and Baligant, the two men
are evenly matched. They both dehorse the other, and break the
other's shield. Baligant delivers Charlemagne a nearly-lethal blow,
and only the encouragement of the angel Gabriel helps Charlemagne to
focus. The divine intervention insures a Christian victory and
affirms the correctness of the Franks' faith.
Readers might object at this point, wondering why God did nothing
to help Roland. Worth point out is the fact that the intervention is
slight: it amounts to little more than the sound of the angel's
voice, which calls Charlemagne to his senses. But even so, it seems
strange that a God who can stop the sun in the sky does nothing to
save the rearguard. Equally strange is the fact that God intervenes
to save warriors at some points, only to let them die later. The
most notable example of this phenomenon is Oliver, who is saved in
laisse 103, but dies not long afterward. Here, the theme of
divine plan and free will might best be considered in comparison
with the same themes in another great war epic, Homer's
Iliad.
In the Iliad, the relationship between fate and free will
is often paradoxical. At times, the gods seem to control events. At
others, even they seem subject to fate. And at other times, humans
seem able to defy fate; when Achilles takes on Troy in a
particularly fierce assault, the gods interfere to prevent Troy from
being taken before the right time.
Some of the same paradoxes run through The Song of Roland.
God interferes at choice times, but certain choices are left up to
men. No direct divine hand is seen in Roland's fateful decision not
to blow the oliphant. Charlemagne's dreams in laisses 185-6
have ambiguous endings, leading some interpreters to conclude that
fate is still in his hands (although an alternative interpretation
is proposed in this ClassicNote). At any rate, in both of the
situations predicted by those dreams, God intervenes at decisive
moments. But in events like the death of Roland, the poet has
problems that do not exist in Homer.
For the ancient Greeks, the gods were often hostile. Cruel fate
was therefore not a surprising thing. But for the Christian world
that produced The Song of Roland, cruel fate, the deaths of
heroes, and the suffering of the good had to be reconciled to the
idea that the universe was ruled by an all-powerful and benevolent
God. The solutions here in the poem may seem unsatisfactory to
modern audiences.
Implicitly in this poem, the struggle of evil, to mean something,
must be left in the hands of men. Although Gabriel intercedes during
Charlemagne's duel with Baligant, the intervention is light: Charles
is still the one who delivers the killing blow. God provides aid,
but it is in fighting for good that man achieves new heights of
greatness. Consider Roland: he is arguably a foolish commander, but
because of his bravery and the depths of his passion and love (he
weeps and swoons for his dying men, remember), he is God's favorite.
And Roland's death arguably fits well with a divine plan. It leads
to Charlemagne's revenge, which cripples Moslem power and drives the
Moslems out of Spain for good (in the poem, at least). And arguably,
Roland's death is an end in itself. Without suffering and martyrdom,
Roland would not rise to the heights that he does. His ascent into
heaven, following his terrible grief and death, has a kind of beauty
that (from a certain point of view) would not be possible if God
simply waved his hand and made the world a perfect place.
The poem also must be considered within the context of its
purpose. We are reading propaganda, with some fairly brutal
elements. Charlemagne actions after the conquest of Saragossa
usually do not fit most modern readers' ideas of a magnanimous
victory. He destroys all sacred items of others faiths, and he
executes anyone who does not wish to become Christian. And then,
without the slightest sense of irony, the poet says that Bramimonde
is going to be brought back as a captive in France so that she can
convert later "through love" (l. 3274). Because of the time and
purpose of the poem, all actions by Christians against Moslems are
above judgment. Brutality against the hellbound is perfectly
justified. The simplistic ideology guiding The Song of Roland
is reflected in many of the poem's characteristics: clean, tidy
symmetry; characters more or less devoid of psychological depth;
unabashed equation of foreignness with evil alongside an undisguised
avarice for foreign wealth. Some readers find these characteristics
off-putting. Almost all would agree that for all of its
preoccupation with righteousness and Christian goodness, this epic
poem is far less sophisticated, and far more brutal and barbaric,
than the earlier epics of Rome, Greece, and India.
Eighth Section
(Laisses 273-298, lines 3675-4002):
Summary:
Charlemagne leaves a garrison and returns to his capitol, Aix,
passing through many French cities along the way. He deposits the
oliphant at a sacred site, and leaves the bodies of Roland, Oliver,
and the Archbishop at the church of St. Romain. He arrives in Aix
and summons his judges: the trial of Ganelon will begin soon. But
first, Charlemagne must give Aude, Roland's wife, the news of his
death. She dies of grief on the spot.
Ganelon, brutalized by the servants, faces the charge of treason.
He argues that though he arranged for Roland's death, it was in
reaction to Roland's nomination of him as envoy, which Ganelon
thinks was an attempt to kill him. Though he betrayed Roland, he did
not betray the king. Thirty of Ganelon's kinsmen speak for him.
Among them is Pinabel, a mighty knight and gifted speaker. Pinabel
is so persuasive that the judges, who are collected from all over
Charlemagne's realm, are inclined to seek peace and let Ganelon go
free. Charlemagne is grieved by their choice. Only Thierry, brother
of Lord Geoffrey, is willing to fight for the case that Ganelon is
guilty of treason.
Thierry argues to Charlemagne that "whatever Roland may have done
to Ganelon, / The act of serving you should have protected him. /
Ganelon is a traitor in that he betrayed him" (ll. 3827-9). Thierry
is willing to fight against any who say otherwise, and Pinabel
accepts the challenge. Pinabel is by far the stronger and larger
man.
The men make confessions at church and return to fight. The
combat is fierce. The audience is moved to weeping with worry and
sorrow for the men: they quickly dehorse each other and destroy each
other's shields, leaving the combat to the sword. Pinabel offers to
be Thierry's vassal if they cease the combat, and let Ganelon live.
Thierry refuses, and offers to reconcile Pinabel to the king, if
Pinabel will stop fighting and let Ganelon die. Pinabel refuses,
saying he will stand by his kinsman. They continue fighting, and, as
Pinabel is stronger, he wounds Thierry badly. But Thierry is
protected from death by God, and he rallies to deliver the killing
blow. The Franks proclaim that God has worked a miracle. They decide
to have Ganelon's thirty kinsmen executed along with him. Ganelon's
kinsmen are all hanged, and he himself is drawn and quartered (each
limb is tied to a horse; the horses run in opposing directions,
ripping the victim apart).
Charlemagne announces that Bramimonde, having heard the gospels
and the articles of Christian faith, wishes to be baptized. She is
christened Juliana. That night, Gabriel appears to Charlemagne in a
dream, telling him that he must aid King Vivien of Imphe, a
Christian monarch besieged by pagans. His reaction is weary and
sorrowful: "ŒGod,' said the king, Œhow wearisome my life is!' / He
weeps and tugs at his white beard" (ll. 4000-1). Thus the poem ends.
Analysis:
The final line of the poem, "Here ends the story which Turoldus
relates" (l. 4002) has been translated by Glyn Burgess in a way that
keeps the ambiguity of the original old French. "Relates" (or
"declinet" in the original) can mean write, transcribe, or weaken,
leaving it unclear what Turoldus' relationship to the work was. Any
theory can only be speculation.
The kind of chivalry in The Song of Roland predates the
later medieval ideas of courtly love, which have influenced our
current definition of the word "chivalry." Relationships between men
and women are not really explored in The Song of Roland.
Roland has said almost nothing about his wife Aude; the concept of
chivalry here belongs to a more warlike age. If anything, his
relationship with Oliver seems to be the most important earthly
relationship in his life. Companionship and equality seem to exist
only between men. Aude dies of grief when she hears of Roland's
death, but that tells us more about how awe-inspiring a figure
Roland was than the depth of their relationship together. We can
infer that they barely saw each other, as Roland has spent his adult
life fighting for his uncle. Aude is so upset by the loss of this
magnificent husband, that she refuses to be comforted by
Charlemagne's immediate offer of another suitable knight. But not
just any knight will do: Aude was apparently only happy when Roland
was her (absent) husband. She is so grief-stricken that she dies
even before Charlemagne has time to tell her that her brother Oliver
is also dead.
At Ganelon's trial, different values are the real forces moving
the decisions. On one side, there are the values of compromise and
political pragmatism. Ganelon is a skilled knight, from a family
that we can infer is powerful: the translator has said that the
judges are "inclined to peace" (l. 3797), indicating that the
execution of Ganelon might cause problems. But on the other side is
the multi-faceted issue of feudal loyalty. Charlemagne has his duty
to avenge his vassal, and what's more, Ganelon, if we consider the
feudal code, has indeed committed treason. Thierry argues
articulately that a man cannot put his personal desires ahead of the
interests of the king: no matter what Ganelon's quarrel was with
Roland, bringing about the death of a faithful servant of the king
amounts to an attack against the king himself.
God, of course, sides with these latter arguments. The Franks
never seem to doubt that a just God will intervene and provide an
outcome which will make for a just verdict. And he intervenes once
more, allowing victory for the smaller, weaker Thierry. Implicit in
this intervention is the depth of Ganelon's sin: he has not only
betrayed Charlemagne in pursuing selfish interests, he has also
betrayed God and the war against Islam.
The cost for Ganelon and his family is brutal. The poet is almost
gleeful as he describes the hanging of Ganelon's kinsmen and
Ganelon's own horrifying execution: "A man who betrays another has
no right to boast of it" (l. 3974).
Immediately afterward, we see God's hand in a more gentle one.
Charlemagne announces that Bramimonde is to become a Christian.
Significantly, the poet chooses near the end of the poem to give us
a reminder that Christianity is not all forced conversions and
dismemberment. Although modern readers might find Bramimonde's
"voluntary" conversion a wee bit problematic, it is nonetheless a
gentler alternative to the Holy War pursued in the rest of the poem.
It is not, however, the last word. Charlemagne's sleep that night
is interrupted by another visit from the angel Gabriel. He will soon
have to depart for yet another campaign against the infidel. His
reaction is less than enthusiastic: he bewails the weariness of his
life, weeps, and does his characteristic gesture of grief by tugging
at his beard. The theme of duty, in this case duty to God, is the
finishing note of the poem. War is duty. This final event confirms
the idea in the poem that though God proposes, man disposes. The
Franks must carry out God's will; they are his agents on earth. A
Christian must submit to the will of God; implicitly, the audience
should follow Charlemagne's example. Our final image of Charlemagne
gives him a great deal of humanity and vulnerability. This
Charlemagne is no bloodthirsty and ambitious conqueror. We see him
as a tired, grandfatherly old man, obliged to set off for yet
another bloody war.
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