Sovereign Lady is a collection of ten essays focusing on the representation of women in Middle English literature. One of the distinct features of the collection is that all the contributors were at one time or another students of the editor, Muriel Whitaker, at the University of Alberta in Canada. These essays concern fictional as well as historical women and so contribute to our growing understanding of the relationship between fact and fiction in medieval literature. The variety of approaches: "Biblical exegesis, medieval social history, art history, feminist critical theory and Jungian psychology" (Preface) offers a rich experience to any reader looking for fresh insights into feminine perspectives. The women themselves constitute an unconventional society: Queen Guenevere, Emily, May, Griselda, and the Second Nun represent fictional figures; the Paston daughters, the anchoresses of the Ancren Riwle, St. Cecilia, Margery Kempe, and Julian of Norwich, the "real" world. These balanced and scholarly essays are informative and readable. They will be useful to scholars, graduate students and undergraduates alike. The volume closes with an Annotated Bibliography (pp. 188-213) which every student of medieval literature will find invaluable. The unique character of each essay makes further generalizations impossible, so I will briefly attend to each.
In her introductory essay Muriel Whitaker discusses the hermeneutics of the book's title: Sovereign Lady. In the twelfth century the image of woman underwent a radical transformation. The "lady" was exalted by the courtly lover and the theologian. One inspired the virtues of chivalry; the other, the Virgin Mary, inspired the virtues of the religious life. The fictional exaltation of the lady in lyric and romance was, however, countered toward the end of the medieval period by women who spoke in their own voices and under their own authority: "No longer need they depend on masculine rhetoric to create their roles for them. They have asserted their entitlement as sovereign ladies in domestic, economic, theological and literary domains." (xvii)
Malory's "revisioning" of Guenevere is the subject of Carol Hart's essay "Newly Ancient: Reinventing Guenevere in Malory's Morte Darthur." The English knight modified his sources to present a queen who is a moral authority, a civilizing influence in the court, a generous patron. Hart traces the development of the relationship between Lancelot and Guenevere through the various segments of Malory's text, noting how Malory changed his sources, eliminating the queen's "sexual aggression" and developing a relationship that seems to deepen over time. In the end, the queen's choice to abandon the world and retire to the convent in Almesbury inspires a similar renunciation in her former lover. In Malory's text, "Guenevere becomes Lancelot's passionate, exasperating and corporeal Beatrice." (18) The imperious and proud queen of the French tradition has become a human individual, complex and flawed. This very valuable study contains an erroneous reference to Marie de France, identifying her as Marie de Champagne, Abbess of Shaftesbury in Dorset. (19, note 2) Both Marie de Champagne and the Abbess of Shaftesbury, along with others, have been proposed as the author of the lais, but both are dubious choices. The scholarly consensus is that "in spite of these intriguing efforts at determining her identity, Dame Marie remains something of a mystery." (The Lais of Marie de France, translated by Glyn S. Burgess and Keith Busby, Penguin, 1986, p. 19.)
Pamela Farvolden turns to an intriguing topic in her comparison of two works by Chaucer and Lydgate. Male friendship is increasingly seen as a stronger bond than the courtly love of hero and heroine in medieval romance. "Love Can No Frenship": Erotic Triangles in Chaucer's 'Knight's Tale' and Lydgate's Fabula duorum mercatorum" develops this theme. Although there are distinct differences in the two stories, the role of the woman is similar in each: she is an object of exchange used "to facilitate the relationship between the two men." (24) Farvolden asserts that Lydgate's tale makes the connections "among courtly love, male friendship, and the exchange of women" explicit while they remain implicit in the Knight's story. (35) The theme of male bonding is, however, even further accentuated in Boccaccio's Teseide, which was Chaucer's source. In Boccaccio's version the two knights do not begin to quarrel over Emilia until Arcita is to be freed from prison. Until that time, they enjoy observing her and conversing together about her. Chaucer turns their initial vision into an immediate quarrel which continues until Arcite is mortally wounded. Boccaccio's point is that the feminine is an almost diabolical disruption of male solidarity, a disruption which causes death and destruction. Chaucer modifies this dark view and makes the friendship between the two knights more fragile. Emily is an object of exchange between Theseus and the victorious knight, whereas in Lydgate's story the lady is literally exchanged between the two merchants. The analogy is a valid one, but certain shades of difference might be further acknowledged.
Medieval marriage as a system of economic and social exchange is clearly illustrated in the letters of the Paston family, and Laura Watson's essay on "The Disposal of the Paston Daughters" develops this very nicely. The historical background provided in "The Paston Letters and Papers" gives us a valuable insight into the social practices of the time, especially with regard to marriage. Daughters were either an encumbrance to a family or a means of moving forward in society. "...[T]he 'best' match was determined according to the criteria of wealth, property, family, and social position." (46) The three daughters discussed in this essay are Elizabeth, daughter of Agnes and William I, and her nieces Margery and Anne, the daughters of her brother John I and Margaret. Marriage negotiations were conducted by the families involved (a young man could negotiate an alliance on his own) with little or no consideration of the daughter's feelings in the matter. When Margery acted on her own and pledged herself to Richard Calle, the bailiff on the family estate, her mother and brothers attempted to discourage the young woman from following through on her promise. Their efforts were unsuccessful much to the dissatisfaction of her family. Her younger sister Anne also fell in love with a servant but was eventually married to another man who agreed to marry her "iff she had hyre mony, and ellis nott." (58) Although these letters reveal the passivity expected of marriageable women, all three Paston daughters showed spirit and a limited amount of determination in their own regard. We can look forward to many of Shakespeare's heroines who similarly display a zest for self-determination.
Carol Everest's essay studies a fictional representation of an arranged marriage in Chaucer's "Merchant's Tale." "'Paradys or Helle': Pleasure and Procreation in Chaucer's 'Merchant's Tale'" focuses on a key question in the tale: is May pregnant before (or after) she meets Damian in the tree? The author asserts that, according to medieval medical authorities, this would have been impossible, for conception could occur only through the mingling of both male and female seed which were only emitted during orgasm. (64) The assumption is that May could not have had an orgasm because she took no pleasure in her husband's lovemaking. The text, however, is ambivalent concerning her receptivity and her response. We are told that January "labored until dawn" on their wedding night and that May, although she thought his "playing" not worth a bean, kept to her room for the next three days as was customary for new wives. The next passage that describes them in bed together is also ambivalent. The narrator states that he cannot tell "how he wrought" or whether she thought it paradise or hell. Everest cites an impressive array of medical and ecclesiastical authorities attesting to the two-seed theory. Dante, however, followed Aristotle in believing the active and formative principle to be contained in the male seed, the female being passive. In Canto XXV of Purgatorio Statius explains to Dante the process of human generation (ll. 43-51). The commentary of Charles S. Singleton, drawing upon Bruno Nardi, gives Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas as Dante's sources for the passage. The essay is informative and very useful, especially in its views on sexuality and generation. To conclude that May becomes pregnant after the tryst in the pear tree certainly provides an ironic ending to January's hope for an heir and is quite possible, but this can only be a tentative conclusion.
Muriel Whitaker's contribution, "The Artists' Ideal Griselda," concentrates on the reception of Griselda in later centuries. This is seen in artistic representations of the heroine produced by artists from the eighteenth to the twentieth centuries. The author first takes note of the visual aspects of Chaucer's narrative. Instead of describing Griselda's physical features, the Clerk praises her virtuous beauty, her patience, her steadfastness, her kindness to her aging father. She is seen in actions representative of peasant life: spinning, drawing water, tending animals. Whitaker asserts that the images associated with these occupations have an allegorical resonance in that they are also appear in descriptions of the Virgin Mary. The imagery of Griselda's investiture as Walter's bride is also biblical in nature; here the author cites Psalms 45:9 and 21:3. Griselda did not make an appearance in British narrative art until the eighteenth century. The first painting of "The Clerk's Tale" was done by Angelica Kauffman, sometime before 1785. Charles Henry Cope chose the subject for a fresco he was commissioned to paint in Westminster Palace in 1846. Alfred Elmore and F. G. Stephens produced oil paintings of Griselda in the mid-nineteenth century. Whitaker's description and analysis of each painting is very detailed and presents a clear understanding of the figure in each work. She then describes three sculptures of Griselda fashioned by three different artists in the second half of the century. Six photographs of these art works are included at the end of the essay providing a clear illustration of how the Clerk's patient Griselda was visualized in later centuries.
The remaining four essays in the collection are concerned with some form of religious life. Sister Juliana Dusel writes of "The Bride of Christ Image in the Ancren Riwle." This was a book of instructions for three anchoresses, blood sisters, who sought some guidance for their way of life. The author of the Riwle uses the imagery of marriage to describe the relationship between the anchorite and Christ. Sister Dusel traces this imagery to its biblical sources (the prophet Osee, the Canticle of Canticles, the apostle Paul). The Fathers of the Church and medieval theologians continued to use this metaphor in speaking of the soul's union with God. St. Bernard of Clairvaux' sermons on the Canticle of Canticles were especially influential in developing this understanding of the love of God. This imagery formed a popular motif in Middle English lyrics as well. Christ was depicted as a chivalric knight in pursuit of the human soul. His love for this soul moved Him to suffer and die for its salvation. This essay is a timely reminder of the validity of an allegorical understanding which often seems misunderstood in contemporary society.
The anonymous Second Nun of "The Canterbury Tales" is the subject of Elaine Filax' essay, "A Female I-deal: Chaucer's Second Nun." This woman who is simply described as the Prioress' chaplain/companion is but the shadow of a person in the General Prologue. The narrator mentions no details regarding her appearance, clothing, or behavior. Yet, rather surprisingly, she does tell a tale which is preceded by a 119-line prologue. The prologue consists of a preamble regarding the evils of idleness, an invocation to Mary, and several etymological analyses of the name of Cecilia, the heroine of the tale to follow. Filax points out that the prologue and tale are linked by the concept of virginity since both Mary and St. Cecilia were virgins. Their bodies are significant. By not using their bodies for corrupt purposes, they divest themselves of their bodies and can thus be raised to the spiritual plane. The author suggests that the Second Nun may not be a virgin: she refers to herself as "an unworthy sone of Eve," to her soul as being in the prison of the body. Her gendered body has not been displaced by the spirit as is the case with women who are virgins. She becomes "a communicatory object of exchange between a medieval male writer and modern critics." (149) This is an interesting and somewhat complex essay. The choice to define the meaning of absence in the case of the Prioress' companion leads to abstraction and conjecture. Further consideration of the themes of both prologue and tale might lead to different conclusions. Virginity is no guarantee of sanctity. The Nun's comments about the corruption of her own body are very characteristic of a medieval spirituality which disparaged the body and considered it a hindrance to the spiritual life. St. Francis of Assisi was an example of such a view. To be a virgin did not preclude thoughts of one's own sinfulness and unworthiness.
"The Soul Journey of Margery Kempe" is the subject of the next essay by Charlotte Garrett. Although some critics believe that Margery belongs in the company of "hysterical women," this author takes a different position. Margery's journey, which began in madness and extreme emotional and psychological imbalance, led eventually to confidence in and union with God. Her emotional reactions to her meditations on the physical suffering of Christ were characteristic of the affective spirituality which was prevalent at that time. She experienced a mystical marriage with God and wrote her story that she might be an example to the people of her time. This essay fails to focus on the superficial, external manifestations of Margery's soul journey and goes instead to the heart of the matter, her relationship with God.
Arlette Zinck's essay forms a fitting conclusion to the volume, for she writes of a woman's growth in confidence, self-knowledge, and self-acceptance. "A Vindication of the Feminine in the Showings of Julian of Norwich" analyses the two different versions of the mystic's writings. The two versions were written more than fifteen years apart. In the first text, the author shows herself to be anxious and insecure, apologetic in her role as a teacher and communicator of mystical revelations. She is acutely aware that this is no role for a woman. The later writing "exhibits a specific confidence in her femininity and in her roles as both woman and religious writer." (176) This growth in confidence can be seen in her use of domestic images and similes to describe her experiences of God. In describing God as a mother, she affirms the feminine and her own feminine self. Thus, Sovereign Lady moves from the depiction of a lady, Guenevere, the exalted queen of courtly love and symbol of male desire, to the lady who speaks in her own voice, and of God. These thoughtful and provocative essays contribute much to our knowledge and understanding of the women of medieval England.