Observe a Cat Observe a Bird!

Cat-Birding

Our cat Angi, cat-intent upon his new hobby of cat-birding at the bird-feeding spot we've set up these past two weeks, tries not to startle the two doves that have discovered the unexpected special birdseed gift, while Goya and Scat lurk in the background and thus do not appear in this photograph.

Felix Culpa: More Images of Bien's "Colorful Satan"

The Filipino artist Bienvenido Bones Banez, Jr. has sent me more photos of his lost "Colorful Satan" masterwork offering more images of a Satan who adds color to the world, Bien's variant on a felix culpa soteriology. Here they are, starting with the entire installation:

I'm not sure what the body lying flat on its back signifies . . . perhaps fallen mankind? Or fallen woe-mankind? I don't know (though I speculate more below). Anyway, here's a focus upon the Colorful Satan alone:

Here, in a darker version of much the same focus, Satan appears to be feeling a little blue:

Or, given this detail of the head (note the obvious grimace), very blue:

And now a detail of the groin (an unpleasant-looking nether region of a nether-regional):

Hmmm . . . as I peer ever closer, Satan appears to be of ambiguous gender. Be that as it may, Bien titled this now-lost installation "666 Man's Heroes," and I notice the plural, "Heroes," so both Satan and the body beside him are being described, apparently. I've suggested above that the body might symbolize fallen mankind, but I've also, tongue-in-cheek, suggested woe-mankind, as the body itself appears feminine, given those large breasts, so perhaps we're intended to think of Eve, who would seem to be in Hell, for fiery, wiry flames writhe upward around her fallen body, also around Satan. But Eve is traditionally considered saved, so the female figure is possibly the Book of Revelation's Whore of Babylon, an eschatological image in Christianity.

Perhaps some bold reader could investigate at Bien's website and clarify this point . . .

O felix culpa!

Dante's Purgatorio 18

Gustave Doré

O felix culpa?

(Image from Wikipedia)

I'm still reading Eugen Rosenstock-Huessy's tome, Out of Revolution, and occasionally lurking at the discussion at Spengler's website.

Recently, I read something that Rosenstock-Huessy wrote about All Souls' Day. Now, having grown up Baptist in the almost-entirely-Protestant Ozarks, I didn't experience -- or even encounter -- many traditional Christian Holy Days, but I've gotten more interested in them as I delve further into Medieval things.

My understanding is that on All Souls' Day, Christians offered up prayers for those dead who were undergoing the purging fire of Purgatory and that while the practice of such intercession dates back very far, only in the 11th century was a general intercession by the Church established, specifically by St. Odilo of Cluny (c. 962-1048/9), the fifth Benedictine abbot of the powerful Medieval Abbey of Cluny, in what is now in east-central France, near Mâcon, in the region of Bourgogne.

The Abbey of Cluny, commonly referred to as "Cluny," was responsible only to the pope and played an important role in the 11th century reform of the Church that increased the papacy's power.

Anyway, here's what Rosenstock-Huessy wrote:

The day of All Souls, proclaiming purgatory to be the stage for all contemporaries, has separated us forever from the jubilant glee of the ancient church. In a minute correction, this change was expressed most strikingly by the Cluniacs: At Easter time, everybody was happy in the experience of resurrection, and evil itself was redeemed since God can make use of evil as well as of good; in recognizing the restoration of the world, the old church sang: "O happy fault that produced this redeemer!" Cluny resented this slighting of our human guilt: the prayer "O felix culpa" was suppressed. (Rosenstock-Huessy, Out of Revolution, pages 513-4)

For this bit of information, Rosenstock-Huessy cites Cardinale Schuster, O.S.B., Liber Sacramentorum, Vol. IV (1930), p. 49, and p. 18, Note 1 ... just in case anybody's interested (Rosenstock-Huessy, Out of Revolution, page 514, note 4). Rosenstock-Huessy considers this Cluniac reform to be one of those revolutions through which the modern West has developed. He seems to regret it, though.

On the felix culpa, Rosenstock-Huessy cites an old Medieval poem found in Middle English (one about which I've previously blogged):

Adam lay ybounden
bounden in a bond;
Four thousand winter
thoughte he not too long;
And all was for an apple,
An apple that he took,
As clerkes finden
Written in their book.
Nor had the apple taken been,
The apple taken been,
Nor had never our Lady
A-been [of] Heaven Queen.
Blessed be the time
That apple taken was.
Therefore we moun singen
"Deo Gratias."

He tells us that he has quoted this poem "with the spelling modernized, from Sloane Ms. 2595 (according to Bradly Stratmann early 14th century) as printed in Early English Lyrics, E. N. Chambers and F. Sedgwick, p. 102, London, 1907" (Rosenstock-Huessy, Out of Revolution, pages 513-4, note 3).

Rosenstock-Huessy italicizes the line "Blessed be the time" to emphasize the happy fault appealed to in the old belief of our felix culpa.

Cluny may have been powerful in its purifying efforts, but old ideas die hard, as demonstrated by this 14th-century poem, recorded some 300 years after St. Odilo of Cluny had 'officially' established All Souls' Day.

And its influence has never quite been completely lost, for even that great Protestant poet Milton felt its influence...

Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Wine!

Lucas Cranach the Elder, The Judgment of Paris

"Siþen þe sege and þe assaut watz sesed at Troye..."

(Image from Wikipedia)

I've finished writing my paper on Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. My next step is to do the research.

I know, I know, that sounds like putting Descartes before the hearse -- 'he thought, therefore he was' in the way -- but that's how I write my scholarly papers these days. I have my 'big idea' first, I think about it a bit, I convince myself that I'm right, I write the paper in a short time, and I then set sail for the wide seas of scholarship on a treasure hunt.

I admit that I do look for a few trinkets in the process of writing, but the search for scholarly treasure generally comes later. I'm now at this "later" stage.

Anyway, for those of you still reading this stuff, here's what I finished up with yesterday, my grand "Conclusion":

As noted at the outset of this paper, Gawain's quest has led him through the paradox of Christian salvation wherein his very failure itself has prepared him properly for redemption. Although a pious Christian devoted to the Virgin Mary, Gawain is too proud in his virtues despite his courteous air of humility. As with the others at the court of Arthur, Gawain suffers a surfeit of pride, and his faith must be tested through the various games set up by the Green Knight. Specifically, he is tested in his courage, his troth, and his celibacy. Readers see clearly that he fails in his faith by placing his trust in the green belt rather than the Virgin Mary. This reliance upon the 'magical' belt calls his courage into doubt as well. Retaining the belt rather than handing it over to Lord Bertilak shows that he fails in his troth. The Green Knight observes that Gawain fails in his courage and his troth, so this is also quite clear to readers. Readers might miss the way in which Gawain falls into a lecherous adultery of the heart, for he seems to have displayed remarkable restraint in resisting the advances of an extraordinarily beautiful, charming, and seductive lady, and the Green Knight himself states that Gawain has not failed due to "wooing" (wowyng, line 2367 (cf. 2361)). However, from Gawain's self-condemnation, one sees that he focuses upon two failings, his cowardice and his sexual coveting (couetyse, line 2374) of Lord Bertilak’s wife. Gawain may have satisfied the Green Knight on this point, but the falseness of his own heart condemns him, for he has failed to remain chaste within -- he has failed to stay celibate and true to the Virgin Mary. His fall, however, can become a felix culpa, a happy fault, if the blow dealt his pride leads him to true repentance. Concerning this final stage of redemption, the text remains silent. Perhaps, then, Gawain has yet a few more quests to undertake in his path toward self-knowledge.

That brief conclusion brought my paper to precisely 24 pages ... though it will surpass that today as I launch my scholarly craft, run up my Jolly Roger, and start raiding other people's papers.

Now, however, is a moment to treasure. "Yo ho ho and a bottle of wine!" Just let me uncork a fine American wine. Yes, an American wine, despite the advice of Korean wine expert Lee Je-chun, proprietor of Jell Wine in Itaewon-dong. Some of you will recall Lee's remarks about avoiding American wines:

"They cost so much because the land is the most expensive in the world," says Lee. "With good American wines you are paying a lot for the soil and not so much for the grapes." (Daniel Jeffreys, "Looking for a good wine? It's all a matter of balance," JoongAng Daily, May 18, 2007)

At the time, I took issue with this ... twice. I doubt that American land is the most expensive in the world, even in California, and as my friend and wine expert Bruce Cochran retorted:

How much does land cost in those Burgundian vineyards he likes? Or Bordeaux (the best parts)?

I can't imagine that land in Europe is actually cheaper than land in the US, but I'm willing to hear what the real estate experts say on this. Meanwhile, I can report that one is not "paying a lot for the soil" in buying American wines. According to a recent article by Jon Herskovitz (and Jessica Kim) in Reuters, "South Korea wine mart ready to toast U.S. trade deal" (June 30, 2007), prices for American wines in Korea are "due to high mark-ups, taxes, distribution costs and government regulations" on the Korean side (and not because of American land prices). But those high Korean wine prices might be going down ... eventually. Here's the story:

South Korea's free trade pact with the United States signed at the weekend should nicely pair South Korea's steadily growing wine market with the export ambitions of U.S. wine makers.

But it may take several years of ageing before it leads to a drop in exorbitant wine prices in South Korea.

"Korea is due for a big boom in California wine," said Dan Schulte, a senior executive with major importer Pieroth Korea.

When the free trade deal comes into effect with the United States, it will lead to a lot more wine on the market, but the price drop from the tax cuts may not be quickly passed on to consumers, Schulte and other wine industry sources said.

The few South Koreans who are regular wine drinkers are used to paying a premium for the beverage and it will take a much larger number of consumers, who are better informed about global prices, before a bottle becomes cheaper, they said.

A paper from the U.S. Embassy in Seoul shows retail wine prices in South Korea are about two to four times those in the United States due to high mark-ups, taxes, distribution costs and government regulations.

...

South Korean media have said the trade deal with the United States, and one in the works with the European Union, could lead to a sea change in the world's 12th largest economy, turning wine from a niche drinking choice to a mainstream beverage.

A trade deal with Chile in 2004 brought about lower prices, more varieties of wine from the South American country coming into South Korea and led to about a five-fold increase in sales.

...

Jerome Stubert, general manager of the Novotel Ambassador in Seoul said the FTA would push up sales of U.S. wine in the same way it did for Chilean wine. But the free trade deal in the works with the EU is the one to watch.

In short, the high price of American wines, despite Lee Je-chun's remarks, is not due to high land prices in the States but, rather, a consequence of distribution costs combined with high markups and government taxes -- all of these on the Korean side of the wine trade.

This Reuters report also appeared in the July 2nd edition of The Korea Herald, (page 6, columns 2-5), but I couldn't locate the online version. However, I do have the hard copy, and I've a good mind to march right over to Jell Wine in Itaewon-dong and wave it in Mr. Lee's face.

Actually, I'd have to march right over to a nearby bus stop, catch a bus to Bonghwasan Station, march right down to the subway, catch a train to Itaewon Station, march right up to the street level, and then march right around looking for Jell Wine.

Sounds like too damned much marching for a hot summer day, so I think that I'll just stay here and enjoy a refreshing white wine from America and toast the day that the FTA brings those wine prices down and Mr. Lee gets his comeuppance in a new "Judgment of Paris"!

When I'll be chortling, "Yo ho ho and a bottle of wine!"

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight: A Medieval Bildungsroman?

The Landscape of Medieval Romance

The Pearl Poet's Europe (c. 1328)

(Image from Wikipedia)

I'm still working on my Gawain paper, which is taking shape bit by bit in a rough, patched-together manner, and as readers might have noted, I'm presenting the story as a sort of Medieval Bildungsroman, a story of personal development in which a character comes to deeper insight and greater maturity.

"Medieval Bildungsroman" is an expression that I came up with just this morning, but I see that it's been coined already. Joseph Szoverffy used the term way back in 1977 in his review of Ruodlieb: Faksimile-Ausgabe des Codex Latinus Monacensis 19486 der Bayerischen Staatsbibliothek Munchen und der Fragmente von St. Florian, by Walter Haug, in Speculum, Vol. 52, No. 4 (Oct., 1977), pp. 981-983. Some 15 years later, John W. Baldwin used the expression in his article "Five Discourses on Desire: Sexuality and Gender in Northern France around 1200," also in Speculum, Vol. 66, No. 4 (Oct., 1991), pp. 797-819. And just three years later, John Il Kwun (or John Bachmann?) seems to have used the expression in "The Ultimate Quest: Secular and Spiritual Conceptions of Self-Perfection in the Medieval Chivalric Romance," Google Group: sci.anthropology, May 1, 1994. More recently, on September 27, 2004, M. Charlotte Wolf finished a dissertation, "The Treatment of Fragmentation in Irmtraud Morgner's Unfinished Salman Trilogy" (Union Institute and University, Cincinnati, Ohio), in which she also used the expression.

I cannot, therefore, claim originality in coming up with the expression Medieval Bildungsroman, for its use stretches back to at least 1977. But I can perhaps say something new about Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. If this is a Bildungsroman, then what does Gawain learn about himself in the process of his self-formation? One thing that he learns is that he is not completely in control of his own moral development, for he has been tricked into greater self-knowledge, but he does attempt to learn his lesson and apply it.

In particular, his confession to King Arthur in the presence of his fellow knights after returning to that royal court seems to distinguish two sins that he has committed:

"Behold, sir," said he, and handles the belt,
"This is the blazon of the blemish that I bear on my neck;
This is the sign of sore loss that I have suffered there
For the cowardice and coveting that I came to there;
This is the badge of false faith that I was found in there,
And I must bear it on my body till I breathe my last.
For one may keep a deed dark, but undo it no whit,
For where a fault is made fast, it is fixed forevermore."
(ll 2505-2512)

Gawain accuses himself of "cowardice" (couardise) and "coveting" (couetyse). Both contribute to his "false faith" (vntrawþe), a self-reproach by which Gawain confesses his unworthiness to wear the pentangle, that "endless knot" (endeles knot) that stands for trawþe -- the Middle English of “troth” -- which combined the meanings "truth" and "loyalty." Gawain's sin has loosened that endless knot, and the baldric crossing over the shoulder where the shield with pentangle had been hung (line 621) has been replaced with the belt as a substitute baldric tied with a knot at his left side (line 2486). In Gawain's confession, the fault that he has committed will stain him as long as he lives, but what precisely does Gawain confess to? His couardise is clear enough: fear for his life partly led him to accept the belt offered by Lady Bertilak. But what was the object of his couetyse? This recalls the earlier discussion of Matthew 5:27-28.

Ye han herd that it was seid to elde men, Thou schalt do no letcherie. But Y seie to you, that euery man that seeth a womman for to coueite hir, hath now do letcherie bi hir in his herte. (Matheu 5:27-28: Wycliffe Bible)

In that earlier discussion, we learned that in the 14th century, the time of both Wycliffe and the Pearl Poet, the word "covet" (coueite) meant "To desire with concupiscence or with fleshly appetite" (OED I, 1106, 2). The term here, however, is the noun "covetise" (couetyse), so what did it mean? According to the Oxford English Dictionary, "covetise" had a sexual connotation in the 14th century. In Daniel 13:7 of the 1382 Wycliffe Bible, we read these words concerning the men who saw the beautiful Susanne bathing:

Thei brennyden in the couetise of hir. (OED I, "covetise," 1106, 1)

They burned with covetise for her. (My Translation)

And Chaucer uses the noun "covetise" to warn against lechery in his Parson's Tale, written about 1386 (OED I, "covetise," 1106, 1). Speaking of the sin worked by the devil's hand, Chaucer identifies the specific work of the devil's first finger:

This is that other hand of the devel, with five fyngres to cache the peple to his vileynye. / The firste finger is the fool lookynge of the fool woman and of the fool man, that sleeth right as the basilicok sleeth folk by the venom of his sighte, for the coveitise of eyen folweth the coveitise of the herte. (John H. Fisher, editor, "Parson's Tale," in The Complete Poetry and Prose of Geoffrey Chaucer (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1977), page 385 (ll 851-852))

This is the other hand of the devil, with five fingers to draw people to his villainy. / The first finger is the foolish glancing of the foolish woman and of the foolish man, which slays [people] exactly as the basilicok slays people by the venom of its glance, for the covetise of the eyes follows the covetise of the heart. (My Translation)

Chaucer's parson thus identifies "covetise" with lechery and emphasizes that "the covetise of the eyes follows the covetise of the heart," which fits rather nicely with the view that Gawain has fallen into an adultery of the heart, given his confession of "coveting" (couetyse). Gawain takes rather hard his self-knowledge as one guilty of breaking faith for the low motives of cowardice and lechery. Indeed, he tell us in line 2512 that "where a fault is made fast, it is fixed forevermore," as though he believes that his sin has brought him into a fallen state as low as original sin brought Adam. While Gawain's self-reproach might seem excessive, it represents an important stage in his development as a Christian knight, for he has previously been held in thrall to pride, as the Green Knight tells us in revealing that Morgan le Faye sent him:

She guided me in this guise to your glorious hall,
To assay, if such it were, the surfeit of pride
That is rumored of the retinue of the Round Table.
(ll 2456-2458)

The Middle English word translated by Borroff as the phrase "surfeit of pride" is surquidre (cf. sourquydrye, line 311) which the OED traces to as early as 1225 and renders as "arrogance, haughty pride, presumption" (OED II, “surquidry,” 243). Gawain does, in fact, recognize his fault of pride, for in the punning passage of lines 2437-2338, Gawain has already agreed to keep the belt, saying that it will remind him of his pride and humble his heart. Although the Green Knight assures Gawain that his confession of all his failings has left him as pure as if he had never sinned (lines 2391-2394), Gawain remains troubled over his fall and considers himself stained for life, as we have already seen. Indeed, Gawain needed to fail for this story to be a Christian one, for such is the Christian view of human nature, that it is fallen and must therefore fail due to its innate sin.

Sir Gawain's encounter with Lady Bertilak and his subsequent entrapment in an adultery of the heart thus works as a type of felix culpa -- a fortunate fall -- that leads him to deeper knowledge of himself and thereby to the possibility of salvation.

And that's where my paper now stands, at 22 pages and still in need of a conclusion -- plus a great deal of smoothing out, minor additions, scholarly notes, and so on. Obviously too long for a 20-minute presentation...