"Camelot! (It's only a model...)"

I’m going to write about characterization one more time before I move on to something more original. I sort of love (and sort of hate) Chretien’s larger-than-life adventurers because of their predictability. I’m not claiming to have expected Yvain to save a lion from a dragon, or Gawain to be attacked for wanting to lie on a cursed bed, but the narratives are very formulaic in structure, as are the knights. We know our protagonists are going to be victorious in battle, that they’ll get the ladies, and that they’ll do all of it in accordance to Chretien’s sense of morality. We also know whichever knight we’re following is going to be the best at what he does, which is the Chretienism that I find the most annoying and oddly intriguing.

As I said before, I think the romances are instructional, working like fables to influence the reader’s social behavior and to impart a specific code of ethics. Accordingly, the characters serve as embodiments of abstract qualities such as strength, bravery, cowardice, or pride in order to expand the tale from “a day in the life” to “a day in the life of humanity.” It’s as though Chretien purposely adds incredulity to his stories to draw the reader’s attention away from individual characters and direct it toward the immensity of their deeds and the consequences that follow. It’s his way of demonstrating the rewards of adhering to specific codes of conduct; to underline their importance, he makes each action extreme.

The grey areas are particularly interesting, like Lancelot’s affair with the queen. Chretien doesn’t punish either lover for their sins, which is almost the same as rewarding them for it. (I say “almost” because in the end, Guinevere’s still married to Arthur -- not Lancelot.) Even though he makes it a point to put Lancelot on a cart, the knight isn’t humiliated by the experience; everyone he encounters finds it humiliating, but he’s so focused on finding Guinevere, it doesn’t affect him. Chretien then shows us how great of a fighter Lancelot is, and how noble, putting the emphasis on this desired behavior rather than the adultery, which, oddly enough, serves as a vehicle for chivalry.

Perceval’s story is interesting too, because it isn’t quite as predictable. Chretien gives his reader a knight-in-the-making, who’s less than perfect and completely human. (At least at first.) Because Perceval’s is a story of education, he’s allowed to break the typical knightly mold and not be entirely archetypal. However, the author makes Perceval’s learning period notably awkward and uncomfortable, which guarantees the reader’s anticipation of his eventual success. What makes this story unique is that his prowess is learned and gradual. In the end, though, Perceval is basically the same character as every other knight in the Romances, and represents the same ideals.

Chretien doesn’t hide his desire to instruct his reader. He’s constantly incorporating words of wisdom into his work, like “Wretched is the man who sees that the propitious hour has come but waits for a still better one” (438), or “Words that are not understood by the heart are lost completely” (297). These little gems may as well be preceded by “I’m talking to you, reader! Yes, you, holding this book!”

I think I understand Chretien’s intentions, but I have a hard time putting them into a modern context. What does he expect his reader to walk away with after reading his manual of manners? How timeless are his values? I’m also struggling to define his ultimate motive in writing these romances, because the readers he had in mind and the readers of 2011 have such different values and mindsets. Am I right in assuming the tales are meant to be social models, or am I taking them too seriously?