Njal's Saga Finale

Njal's Saga Finale:

Lars Walker reminds me that I have completely forgotten to finish up the reading into the saga of Burnt Njal. He kindly provides a review for those who would like to talk about the rest of the saga.

The last month has brought several new challenges, and I'm afraid that I let this matter drop. I do apologize to those of you who were interested in it; but if you'd like to discuss the remainder, this is a good place for it.

Njal's Saga: Part Seven

Njal's Saga: Part Seven

I completely failed to post an entry last week, for which I humbly apologize to those of you who have been waiting to discuss this part of the saga. This week's (last week's!) reading is here; next week's is here.

This week's readings touch on two main themes: the marriage and killing of Hauskuld, the Priest of Whiteness, and some conflict involving Njal's sons. The latter is the part that is going to drive much of the rest of the saga. Here we see the first of Njal's family to die.

Note also the mention of Snorri the Priest, who is an important figure in the Heathslayings.

Njal 6

Njal's Saga, Week Six:

This week's reading is here; next week's is here.

Before we move on to this week's reading, though, I want to touch on one section of interest from last week that we didn't discuss. It has to do with Norse beliefs about the afterlife.

Now those two, Skarphedinn and Hogni, were out of doors one
evening by Gunnar's cairn on the south side. The moon and stars
were shining clear and bright, but every now and then the clouds
drove over them. Then all at once they thought they saw the
cairn standing open, and lo! Gunnar had turned himself in the
cairn and looked at the moon. They thought they saw four lights
burning in the cairn, and none of them threw a shadow. They saw
that Gunnar was merry, and he wore a joyful face. He sang a
song, and so loud, that it might have been heard though they had
been further off.

"He that lavished rings in largesse,
When the fights' red rain-drips fell,
Bright of face, with heart-strings hardy,
Hogni's father met his fate;
Then his brow with helmet shrouding,
Bearing battle-shield, he spake,
`I will die the prop of battle,
Sooner die than yield an inch,
Yes, sooner die than yield an inch."

After that the cairn was shut up again.

"Wouldst thou believe these tokens if Njal or I told them to
thee?" says Skarphedinn.

"I would believe them," he says, "if Njal told them, for it is
said he never lies."

"Such tokens as these mean much," says Skarphedinn, "when he
shows himself to us, he who would sooner die than yield to his
foes; and see how he has taught us what we ought to do."

The Vikings appear to have believed that dead men retained their physical shape, and indeed their physical bodies. There are stories about men going into the howes to recover ancestral weapons, and having to wrest these by force from the dead: but the dead are physical beings, not ghosts as are often conceived elsewhere.

Gunnar, here, is likewise a physically real, dead being. He retains a connection to the living, and Njal's sons believe he has come to teach them something by showing his afterlife to them: for one thing, he is teaching them that the man who fights and never yields is joyous in the afterlife. Conferring this with the recent post on natural theology, we would call this a 'road two' belief: the soul of a man who fights for what he believes best will do well beyond the veil.

That is, you might say, the old religion of the Vikings at work: but in this week's reading we come to the Conversion of Iceland.

Note how they proceed with the debate in something resembling an orderly manner. They discuss it -- some men say it is wicked to abandon the old faith, but Njal says it is wise. They craft poems about it -- including traditional flyting verses, insults aimed in this case at the old gods. They apply an empirical test, the test of the three fires. Note the use of a control sample!

"Well," says Thangbrand, "I will give you the means whereby ye
shall prove whether my faith is better. We will hallow two
fires. The heathen men shall hallow one and I the other, but a
third shall be unhallowed; and if the Baresark is afraid of the
one that I hallow, but treads both the others, then ye shall take
the faith."

"That is well spoken," says Gest, "and I will agree to this for
myself and my household."

And when Gest had so spoken, then many more agreed to it.

Then it was said that the Baresark was coming up to the
homestead, and then the fires were made and burnt strong. Then
men took their arms and sprang up on the benches, and so
waited.

The Baresark rushed in with his weapons. He comes into the room,
and treads at once the fire which the heathen men had hallowed,
and so comes to the fire that Thangbrand had hallowed, and dares
not to tread it, but said that he was on fire all over. He hews
with his sword at the bench, but strikes a crossbeam as he
brandished the weapon aloft. Thangbrand smote the arm of the
Baresark with his crucifix, and so mighty a token followed that
the sword fell from the Baresark's hand.

Berserks were said by Icelanders to have sworn an oath to fear neither fire nor iron, as you can read in the Ynglinga saga. That is why this particular test seemed a good one.

Njal Week Four

Njal's Saga, Week Four:

Here is this week's reading, and here is next week's.

I should say something about "outlawry," because it comes up in this week's readings, and will be of great importance later in the saga as well. There was no death penalty in Icelandic law of the period. Indeed, until this week, we haven't seen anything like criminal law employed at all -- the lawsuits have been more like our civil suits, where people are awarded damages and compensation, but no one is physically punished by the state.

This is a delightful feature of medieval Icelandic law, which contrasts sharply with the law as practiced everywhere else (including in Viking societies with kings, such as Norway or Denmark). Nevertheless, there were occasions when the Icelandic courts could authorize force. This was done by declaring a man to be an "outlaw." The court does not physically punish the outlaw. It merely removes the protection of the law from him -- not usually forever, but for a period of time. During that period, if he is killed, the courts take no notice. Normally men went into exile during their period of outlawry, so as to avoid being killed; but some outlaws were dangerous enough that they felt no need to do so, and lived pleasantly in Iceland in spite of their status. The most famous of these is Grettir Ásmundarson, or "Grettir the Outlaw," about whom there is also a famous saga.

If this is a 'criminal penalty,' it comes up for reasons that may sometimes strike us as strange. Dozens have been killed so far without it ever being invoked; but we see what seems like a pretty minor offense threatened with outlawry this week.

"What!" says Geir, "wilt thou challenge me to the island as thou
art wont, and not bear the law?"

"Not that," says Gunnar; "I shall summon thee at the Hill of Laws
for that thou calledst those men on the inquest who had no right
to deal with Audulf's slaying, and I will declare thee for that
guilty of outlawry."

This is a procedural violation -- Geir has simply involved the wrong people in the inquest. That doesn't merely invalidate his complaint, but also makes him subject to the penalty of outlawry. Why?

The reason is that defying the rules of the court is being punished symmetrically: if you don't play by the rules of the law, you lose the protection of the law. In Anglo-Saxon law, where there was also a concept of outlawry that was somewhat similar, ignoring a summons to appear at court one of the common ways to be declared Caput gerat lupinum (lit. "one who bears a wolfish head," or 'a wolf's head' -- i.e., someone who could be killed like a wolf, with no penalty).

A second matter: there are two references to priests in this week's reading. Geir "the Priest" is one of the actors, and Gunnar promises to make an oath before a priest. Note that the 'priesthood' being referenced here is heathen! We will read about the Conversion of Iceland later in the saga.

The word being translated as "priest" is usually goði. There were often female Gyðja. Their legal and political function is more important than their religious function, and the office continued to exist for these purposes even after the conversion. Somewhat like notaries public, they held special powers to witness, etc., based on the respect due their office. Before the Conversion, they might -- but did not necessarily -- maintain privately-owned temples, called hoffs.

Burnt Njal, III

The Saga of Burnt Njal, Week Three:

Here is this week's readings; and here is next week's.

We are about to enter into the real blood-letting of the work. You may say, "Haven't we seen some blood-letting heretofore?" No, indeed! All this, and all the legal settlements of the various killings, have only been a prelude. Starting next week, we will read of the days when Gunnar has had all he cares to take.

An interesting point about Gunnar, going into this. He has what you might call a bifurcated reputation. We see this a lot in our own time, especially in politics. A given figure is understood by his supporters to be a saint and a hero; the other side says he is a demon, or a monster.

Gunnar is viewed by one side as weak and easy to torment. That seems strange, as he is a demonstrated killer and a man who has offered those who came to him at law the alternative of 'going to the island' (Holmgang). But he doesn't resort to killing right off, as some men do, and it has led some in that era to view him as a man they can bull. We will soon see him lament:

"I would like to know," says Gunnar, "whether I am by so much the
less brisk and bold than other men, because I think more of
killing men than they?"

The circumstances of his complaint will not make it seem much like whining.

Njal 2

The Saga of Burnt Njal, Discussion Two:

We are reading The Saga of Burnt Njal, and this week we are discussing sections 21-37. Next week we will talk about sections 38-53.

Now we're starting to get into the meat of the story. Sea battles! Murders! But also lawsuits, with poetry:

"Yes, so must it be, this morning --
Now my mind is full of fire --
Hrut with me on yonder island
Raises roar of helm and shield.
All that bear my words bear witness,
Warriors grasping Woden's guard,
Unless the wealthy wight down payeth
Dower of wife with flowing veil."

I imagine that some of you found it very satisfying to see Hrut repaid in kind by Gunnar. Note that Gunnar is a good man, though, and treats Hrut this way largely because it was how Hrut behaved himself. Toward Njal, his friend, Gunnar takes no advantage: they strive hard to be fair with each other, and to make peace on terms the other can manage.

Here we also begin to encounter the feuding of the wives. It is important to note that Bergthora is entirely in the right -- it may not be obvious, because they seem to be going eye-for-an-eye in murdering each other's servants and friends. However, the initial cause of the dispute was Hallgerda taking offense at Bergthora asking her to move down the table to make room for another guest in Bergthora's hall. Bergthora had a perfect right to order her own household, and to settle questions of precedence. Hallgerda's insults escalate the issue, and are repaid in kind. Gunnar refuses to fight in her unjust cause, but takes her home: so she escalates further, to sending a wicked man to murder a well-loved member of Njal's household.

This feud will continue to escalate through next week's readings. It is important to keep track of the quality of men on each side: both their social standing and reputation. So, ask yourself both: are they thrall or free? Are they honored men, or men distrusted and scorned?

What did you think of this week's readings?

Njal's Saga, First Week Discussion:

Image from here.

We are reading The Saga of Burnt Njal. This week we are to discuss sections 1-20. By the end of these sections, the two main characters of the saga are introduced: Gunnar and Njal himself. Let's look at their base descriptions, along with the notes provided.

Gunnar:

There was a man whose name was Gunnar. He was one of Unna's
kinsmen, and his mother's name was Rannveig (1). Gunnar's father
was named Hamond (2). Gunnar Hamond's son dwelt at Lithend, in
the Fleetlithe. He was a tall man in growth, and a strong man --
best skilled in arms of all men. He could cut or thrust or shoot
if he chose as well with his left as with his right hand, and he
smote so swiftly with his sword, that three seemed to flash
through the air at once. He was the best shot with the bow of
all men, and never missed his mark. He could leap more than his
own height, with all his war-gear, and as far backwards as
forwards. He could swim like a seal, and there was no game in
which it was any good for any one to strive with him; and so it
has been said that no man was his match. He was handsome of
feature, and fair skinned. His nose was straight, and a little
turned up at the end. He was blue-eyed and bright-eyed, and
ruddy-cheeked. His hair thick, and of good hue, and hanging down
in comely curls. The most courteous of men was he, of sturdy
frame and strong will, bountiful and gentle, a fast friend, but
hard to please when making them. He was wealthy in goods.


ENDNOTES:

(1) She was the daughter of Sigfuss, the son of Sighvat the Red;
he was slain at Sandhol Ferry.
(2) He was the son of Gunnar Baugsson, after whom Gunnar's holt
is called. Hamond's mother's name was Hrafnhilda. She was
the daughter of Storolf Heing's son. Storolf was brother to
Hrafn the Speaker of the Law, the son of Storolf was Orin
the Strong.

Njal:

There was a man whose name was Njal. He was the son of Thorgeir
Gelling, the son of Thorolf. Njal's mother's name was Asgerda
(1). Njal dwelt at Bergthorsknoll in the land-isles; he had
another homestead on Thorolfsfell. Njal was wealthy in goods,
and handsome of face; no beard grew on his chin. He was so great
a lawyer, that his match was not to be found. Wise too he was,
and foreknowing and foresighted (2). Of good counsel, and ready
to give it, and all that he advised men was sure to be the best
for them to do. Gentle and generous, he unravelled every man's
knotty points who came to see him about them. Bergthora was his
wife's name; she was Skarphedinn's daughter, a very high-
spirited, brave-hearted woman, but somewhat hard-tempered. They
had six children, three daughters and three sons, and they all
come afterwards into this story.


ENDNOTES:

(1) She was the daughter of Lord Ar the Silent. She had come
out hither to Iceland from Norway, and taken land to the
west of Markfleet, between Auldastone and Selialandsmull.
Her son was Holt-Thorir, the father of Thorleif Crow, from
whom the Wood-dwellers are sprung, and of Thorgrim the Tall,
and Skorargeir.
(2) This means that Njal was one of those gifted beings who,
according to the firm belief of that age, had a more than
human insight into things about to happen. It answers very
nearly to the Scottish "second sight."

We can see, as Mike noted, that parentage and families are very important: we don't just learn about the personal qualities of our heroes, but about their parentage on both sides of the family. The notes say what the original listeners would have known, about which families and to what great historic heroes their parentage may tie them.

What did you think of the first week's readings? Next week, we'll do the next section, 21-37.

Grim's Hall Book Club: Vikings

I promised you Vikings to follow on this last reading of Plutarch. I was trying to decide between The Saga of Burnt Njal and The Saga of Egil Skallagrimsson. Of the two, Burnt Njal is really the one we ought to read. The lawyers among you will love it particularly; but in Gunnar, it has a Viking fit for the best-bearded and bloodthirstiest of us.

So: let us begin.

I expect this to take a few weeks. For next week, read sections 1-20.

Plutarch.

I chose Nicias and Crassus as a follow up to Alcibades and Coriolanus because of the connection, as Nicias was general in Alcibades' disasterous expedition to Syracuse--and so the situation would be somewhat familiar.

Nicias was general on the expedition, but thought it a bad idea in the first place. Crassus, nortoriously got himself and his army destroyed in Parthia, on an expedition that many thought ill advised, but he went ahead with it anyway.

Who agrees with Plutarch's comparison?

GHBC

Plutarch:

Don't forget, we are to read Nicias and Crassus, plus the comparison, for this weekend. Eric will lead the discussion, I believe, which should begin on Friday.

Grim's Hall Book Club

Grim's Hall Book Club:

It's been a while since we had a book club entry. While I suppose Zelda's Ogre counts as reading, in a sense, it would be a good idea to get back to the business of reading some underlying classics.

I've been reading Parzival this summer, one of the last major Arthurian texts that I hadn't read before. It fails my basic test of reading material for GHBC, though, which is that there does not appear to be a free version online. I suspect that it's not even available at most of your public libraries, except perhaps through interlibrary loan, as the story -- once the most popular tale in Europe -- has fallen out of fashion.

We could do some more of Plutarch, if you like. Some of the Norse sagas make for excellent reading, and I'd like to tackle at least a few of those over the next few years. Some of you may have other ideas. Let's hear them.

Discussion Plutarch.

Ok, I hope everybody has had a chance to read the lives mentioned here.

So, what do you all think? Was Plutarch's comparison apt?

Discuss. Support your arguement.

UPDATE: Bumped to the top by Grim because of the importance of the discussion; newer posts below.

Zenobia

Zenobia:

Rather than let the book club lapse, here is another online reading you might do quickly. You don't have to read all of the Monk's tale; we'll focus on Zenobia.

ZENOBIA, of Palmyrie the queen,
As write Persians of her nobless,
So worthy was in armes, and so keen,
That no wight passed her in hardiness,
Nor in lineage, nor other gentleness.* *noble qualities
Of the king's blood of Perse* is she descended; *Persia
I say not that she hadde most fairness,
But of her shape she might not he amended.

From her childhood I finde that she fled
Office of woman, and to woods she went,
And many a wilde harte's blood she shed
With arrows broad that she against them sent;
She was so swift, that she anon them hent.* *caught
And when that she was older, she would kill
Lions, leopards, and beares all to-rent,* *torn to pieces
And in her armes wield them at her will.

She durst the wilde beastes' dennes seek,
And runnen in the mountains all the night,
And sleep under a bush; and she could eke
Wrestle by very force and very might
With any young man, were he ne'er so wight;* *active, nimble
There mighte nothing in her armes stond.
She kept her maidenhood from every wight,
To no man deigned she for to be bond.

But at the last her friendes have her married
To Odenate, a prince of that country;
All were it so, that she them longe tarried.
And ye shall understande how that he
Hadde such fantasies as hadde she;
But natheless, when they were knit in fere,* *together
They liv'd in joy, and in felicity,
For each of them had other lefe* and dear. *loved

Save one thing, that she never would assent,
By no way, that he shoulde by her lie
But ones, for it was her plain intent
To have a child, the world to multiply;
And all so soon as that she might espy
That she was not with childe by that deed,
Then would she suffer him do his fantasy
Eftsoon,* and not but ones, *out of dread.* *again *without doubt*

And if she were with child at thilke* cast, *that
No more should he playe thilke game
Till fully forty dayes were past;
Then would she once suffer him do the same.
All* were this Odenatus wild or tame, *whether
He got no more of her; for thus she said,
It was to wives lechery and shame
In other case* if that men with them play'd. on other terms

Two sones, by this Odenate had she,
The which she kept in virtue and lettrure.* *learning
But now unto our tale turne we;
I say, so worshipful a creature,
And wise therewith, and large* with measure,** *bountiful **moderation
So penible* in the war, and courteous eke, *laborious
Nor more labour might in war endure,
Was none, though all this worlde men should seek.

Her rich array it mighte not be told,
As well in vessel as in her clothing:
She was all clad in pierrie* and in gold, *jewellery
And eke she *lefte not,* for no hunting, *did not neglect*
To have of sundry tongues full knowing,
When that she leisure had, and for t'intend* *apply
To learne bookes was all her liking,
How she in virtue might her life dispend.

And, shortly of this story for to treat,
So doughty was her husband and eke she,
That they conquered many regnes great
In th'Orient, with many a fair city
Appertinent unto the majesty
Of Rome, and with strong hande held them fast,
Nor ever might their foemen do* them flee, *make
Aye while that Odenatus' dayes last'.

Her battles, whoso list them for to read,
Against Sapor the king, and other mo',
And how that all this process fell in deed,
Why she conquer'd, and what title thereto,
And after of her mischief* and her woe, *misfortune
How that she was besieged and y-take,
Let him unto my master Petrarch go,
That writes enough of this, I undertake.

When Odenate was dead, she mightily
The regne held, and with her proper hand
Against her foes she fought so cruelly,
That there n'as* king nor prince in all that land, *was not
That was not glad, if be that grace fand
That she would not upon his land warray;* *make war
With her they maden alliance by bond,
To be in peace, and let her ride and play.

The emperor of Rome, Claudius,
Nor, him before, the Roman Gallien,
Durste never be so courageous,
Nor no Armenian, nor Egyptien,
Nor Syrian, nor no Arabien,
Within the fielde durste with her fight,
Lest that she would them with her handes slen,* *slay
Or with her meinie* putte them to flight. *troops

In kinges' habit went her sones two,
As heires of their father's regnes all;
And Heremanno and Timolao
Their names were, as Persians them call
But aye Fortune hath in her honey gall;
This mighty queene may no while endure;
Fortune out of her regne made her fall
To wretchedness and to misadventure.

Aurelian, when that the governance
Of Rome came into his handes tway,
He shope* upon this queen to do vengeance; *prepared
And with his legions he took his way
Toward Zenobie, and, shortly for to say,
He made her flee, and at the last her hent,* *took
And fetter'd her, and eke her children tway,
And won the land, and home to Rome he went.

Amonges other thinges that he wan,
Her car, that was with gold wrought and pierrie,* *jewels
This greate Roman, this Aurelian
Hath with him led, for that men should it see.
Before in his triumphe walked she
With gilte chains upon her neck hanging;
Crowned she was, as after* her degree, *according to
And full of pierrie her clothing.

Alas, Fortune! she that whilom was
Dreadful to kinges and to emperours,
Now galeth* all the people on her, alas! *yelleth
And she that *helmed was in starke stowres,* *wore a helmet in
And won by force townes strong and tow'rs, obstinate battles*
Shall on her head now wear a vitremite;
And she that bare the sceptre full of flow'rs
Shall bear a distaff.

I expect that T99 at least shall bear her sympathy; though she did more than many men -- indeed, more than most!

Horace's Epistles

Grim's Hall Book Club: Horace's Epistles

We'll be looking at Plutarch soon. Since we had no assigned reading for this week, though, let's take a look at something we can glance over today. I'm thinking we might usefully discuss a few of Horace's letters, specifically, the first, fifth, and sixth of the letters from his first book.

In the first letter, he declares his devotion to the study of virtue:

It is virtue, to fly vice; and the highest wisdom, to have lived free from folly.

Yet in the fifth letter, he declares to his guest his readiness to pursue folly in his expression of the virtue of hospitality:

We shall have free liberty to prolong the summer evening with friendly conversation. To what purpose have I fortune, if I may not use it? He that is sparing out of regard to his heir, and too niggardly, is next neighbor to a madman. I will begin to drink and scatter flowers, and I will endure even to be accounted foolish. What does not wine freely drunken enterprise? It discloses secrets; commands our hopes to be ratified; pushes the dastard on to the fight; removes the pressure from troubled minds; teaches the arts. Whom have not plentiful cups made eloquent?

In the sixth letter, he further complicates the picture:

Let the wise man bear the name of fool, the just of unjust; if he pursue virtue itself beyond proper bounds.... Lucullus, as they say, being asked if he could lend a hundred cloaks for the stage, “How can I so many?” said he: “yet I will see, and send as many as I have;” a little after he writes that he had five thousand cloaks in his house; they might take part of them, or all. It is a scanty house, where there are not many things superfluous, and which escape the owner’s notice, and are the gain of pilfering slaves.

In resolving these apparent conflicts we come to understand what Horace really meant. How should they be resolved?

Grim's Hall Book Club: Franklin/Wife of Bath's Tale

Grim's Hall Book Club: The Fraklin's Tale and The Wife of Bath's Tale by Geoffrey Chaucer

We looked at The Franklin's Tale and The Wife of Bath's Tale as well this week.

I wanted to include these because there was so much interest in Chaucer associated with our discussion about the descriptions of women in The Knight's Tale and The Miller's Tale. One of the things that you may not know about Chaucer unless you read the whole of The Canterbury Tales is that he chases the questions of men and women all the way around, trying to view them from every side. So, you have loyal wives and disloyal wives; you have devoted husbands and scoundrels; you have tales of courtly love, and ribald stories; you view it from the perspective of the Church, and from very earthy perspectives.

The Wife of Bath's Tale shows some signs of being among Chaucer's favorites. For one thing, he gives her an extraordinary prologue! It's as long as some of the tales by itself, and contains a remarkable number of well developed theological arguments. It also includes some ribald "advice" on how to chew up a husband who gives you trouble, although it advises also that you accord with one in peace once he stops trying to boss you around. That last bit of advice is the most important, and makes up the subject of the actual story.

The story is Arthurian, and treats the question of "What women want most." What it proves that they want most is sovereignty: in Chaucer's version of this story, over their men as well as themselves. This is not the only version of this story, however, and in many versions it is simply to be sovereign over themselves.

Since we all read Cassandra as well, I'd like to mention this piece, which was a guest post at the blog of the lady who wrote the 'frigid wife' piece she cited earlier this week. The man who wrote the guest post took his lady up on the challenge to read some romance novels, which would explore the same question -- "What do women want?" He discovers that what they want is men who are "tall," who "can't be bald," who "move in without invitation and touch" (though noting that only the hero is welcome to do this! The same quality that makes the hero more attractive makes the villain wicked and hateful), be "preternaturally competent and successful at everything," "Have money," etc. But then he gets to this one:

2. Let her rescue herself.

This surprised me. I was under the impression that the hero’s role in romances was to rescue the heroine. But in all of these books the heroine has the most significant role in her own triumph over adversity.

Ah, well, that's the real trick, isn't it? The male figure in this story isn't the hero. He's the love interest. The damsel in distress is still the damsel; but the difference between a story written by a man and a story written by a woman is that in the women-written romances, the woman rescues herself.

What is the man for, then? He's the love interest. That's all, really; love is important enough that he doesn't need to do more than love and be loved.

The Wife of Bath's Tale puts the lady in the role of the rescuer, even of the knight. In learning to serve her and be guided by her, the knight -- it is usually Sir Gawain, in this tale, though Chaucer doesn't name him -- finds a lady love who is both beautiful to him and faithful, though at first he took her to be rather otherwise.

In The Franklin's Tale, we have a story with some resonance today: it is the story of a military wife whose husband is deployed, and who finds herself being pursued by a young squire who develops an ardent fascination with her. She is loyal to her husband and true, but finds herself responding to his flirtation with a playful promise she takes to be impossible. The squire arranges to have a wizard and illusionist make the impossible appear to come true, and then reminds the lady of her promise to give her love to him.

The lady's response is virtuous: she considers, but rejects, suicide, and instead confesses everything to her husband so they may think about the matter together. The knight who is her husband takes her honor to be as important as his own, and says that she must keep her word having given it. In spite of the sorrow and pain he feels, and the shame this will bring on him, he counsels her to be as bound by her word as he would be by his own.

She goes to do this, but is so upset by it that the squire is moved by her pain and love for her husband to release her from her vow. The wizard, in return, is moved by the squire's mercy, and releases the young man from his debt. The tale ends:

"Masters, this question would I ask you now:
Which was most generous, do you think, and how.
Pray tell me this before you farther wend.
I can no more, my tale is at an end."

It's a good question. Is the knight the most generous, to put his lady's honor at the level of his own? Is the lady the most generous, to have loved her husband so much as to trust him with her sorrow? Is the squire the most generous, to lay aside his claim on the lady in honor of the truth of her heart? Or is it the illusionist, who has a legitimate claim on the squire that the squire brought on himself by wickedness, but who lets it go when he sees the squire abandoning his evil?

Nelson Lee

Grim's Hall Book Club: Nelson Lee's Three Years Among the Comanches:

Quite a story! The most memorable scene for me is the shipwreck, early in the tale, where Lee describes hanging from the mast and watching the swirling waters below. What was the part that sticks with you?

The question attending Lee's book is whether or not it is legitimate. It would be welcome, in a sense, to suppose that it wasn't: then we could dismiss the various cruelties, especially toward babies, as being simple legends. Indeed, one of the oddities is the cruelty toward babies; we see that with tales about the Comanches, but normally frontier stories suggest that the Indians kept captured children and raised them, even if they slaughtered adults or traded them as slaves.

So is it legitimate? The Handbook of Texas, Online, says:

Of this probably spurious classic work, Walter Prescott Webb stated that "there is no better description of the life of the Texas Rangers than that of Nelson Lee." The book has since been a source for several writers about Comanche culture. But in 1982 anthropologist Melburn D. Thurman called Lee's account of Comanche ceremonies "blatantly erroneous" and demonstrated that Ernest Wallace and E. Adamson Hoebel's discussion of the "Comanche" Green Corn Ceremony in The Comanches: Lords of the South Plains (1952) employed questionable data from Lee's book. Though noted Indian scholars have long identified the Comanches as a nonsedentary and therefore nonagricultural people, Lee narrated to his New York editors that Comanches planted corn, beans, and tobacco. Other wildly erroneous claims abound. Lee said that the Comanches wrote hieroglyphics on tree bark; built villages with central squares, streets, and houses of important men located on the squares; and resolved irreconcilable differences between two adversaries by lashing them together with a cord and requiring them to fight to the death. Accordingly, Thurman and other specialists of Plains Indians disputed Lee's captivity claims and, by extension, other claims he makes concerning his exploits.

I'm left admiring the quality of the tale, but I think we have to believe that some of the wilder stories were put in to make it salable.

Yet the Rangers have always liked this book, and still like it, as evidenced by the fact that it's posted on their website. What do you think?

Grim's Hall BC Followup

Grim's Hall Book Club: Next Work

When I first proposed the concept for the club, I had intended that the second book would be Nelson Lee's Three Years Among the Comanches. I haven't been able to find an etext version of that, however, and I'd like to try to maintain as much of the club as free and readily accessible online, to ensure we can all participate.

When we discussed it last, several of you endorsed Plutarch, and several Chaucer. I'm going to tap Eric to try to pull a few selections from the works of Plutarch online -- it's a very long work taken as a whole, but Eric's expertise in these things Roman will serve us well.

While he's doing that, why don't we go ahead and do a couple of the Canterbury Tales? Based on our recent discussion of Chaucer, I'd like to do The Franklin's Tale and The Wife of Bath's Tale. These are not so very long -- we won't need weeks to read them -- so why not try to aim for those for next week, i.e., a week from this Sunday?

Following that, we'll tackle Plutarch, if Eric has prepared for us a good selection of lives to consider.

GHBC 34-53

Grim's Hall Book Club: Bendigo Shafter, Chapters 34-47

Perhaps due to the Super Bowl, we are a week behind here. With your permission, I'll go ahead and include both weeks' readings here.

This is the climax and dénouement of the book. Ben goes to New York City and wins his love; he returns to duty, helping people along the way survive a snowstorm that drifts over the tracks. (Easy to feel some sympathy for that bit of the plot, for those of you up north!) They go to the medicine wheel and resolve the last fight with the rogue Shoshone.

Some last questions about the book:

1) What do you think about how the town turns out, and the future plans of the main characters?

2) We should talk about the question of what constitutes a proper education. Drake Morrell ends up being highly praised, after his initial introduction as a murderer on the run. He introduces the children of the backwoods to Latin, classics, history, and many of the things that Bendigo has been introduced to as well.

L'amour describes the effect of this education as "pride of bearing and appearance, as well as a love for knowledge," but "not... 'scholarship,' for that is often a different thing."

Is this the right vision of education? If so, why? If not, what is missing?

3) What do you think of how Webb turned out? Was it what you expected from the early foreshadowing? Is he a virtuous character, or not?

Finally, there's a last question:

What should we read next? I had originally intended to follow some of Ben's education, and we could talk about which of those books he read that we might want to read also.

However, it occurs to me that it might be a good idea -- given recent discussions -- to branch into some material that concerns our recent debates. We've debated some descriptions in Chaucer in isolation from his broader works; it might be good to read one of the Canterbury Tales (I am thinking of the Wife of Bath's tale, which you might describe as an early feminist take on the story of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnall). We could also look at some classic texts on how men and women view each other, both by Medieval and Renaissance men and women; Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliette, perhaps, along with some of the Marie de France or Christine de Pizan stories. That might give us a deeper view of that material.

I'm quite open to your opinions here. Please chime in, and let's discuss it.

GHBC 24-33

Grim's Hall Book Club: Bendigo Shafter, Chapters 24-33

Two things happen at the beginning of this section that are of special interest. The first is the letters that Ben gets while he is on his cattle drive. The second is his conversation with Henry Stratton, whose function in the story is to give an outside perspective on the town.

The letters move the plot substantially, but the conversation with Stratton is an interesting one. Stratton is a man of experience, a "watcher" who does not get involved in local affairs but who is capable of handling himself. He gives a verdict on the town: he does not think it will survive, or that it ought to survive.

Ben's reaction is to say, "A mistake is really only a mistake if you persist in it." Stratton avows that is a "rather profound remark."

In spite of this, at least for the moment Ben seems ready to double down on the town. He enters the election for Marshall, wins it, and begins to clean up the bad element that has entered his town. He buys a printing press, and obtains a contract to cut logs for the railroad. They settle in for a second winter.

The section ends with him being attacked by a mountain lion during a hunt for meat, and the aftermath of that attack. He is continuing to read everything he can find -- including newspapers, which give him a grounding in the greater world around him, to go with the deep historical perspective he has begun to gain from Great Books.

He begins to consider not just reading but writing: to add to the store of wisdom, now that he has a few things to say.

Questions for discussion:

1) Do you think that the town is a mistake? How long should he persist in it, if it is? How would you know when to cut loose?

2) This is an interesting account of writing. We teach children today to write fairly early, but Ben is only just about to start. He has an extraordinary experience of the world to inform his writing, though: rescuing children from a snowstorm, building houses, hunting elk, fighting mountain lions, a cattle drive, and being marshal of a small town. Louis L'amour himself was like this too. He read stories and lived stories for a long time before he began to tell stories.

How important is having something to say to being a good writer? In educating our children, should we focus less on teaching them to write, and more on making sure they have experiences that give them something to write about?

Bendigo Shafter 4-23

Grim's Hall Book Club: Bendigo Shafter, Chapters 4-23

We start right off with an examination of the culture clash between the Indians and the Americans.

No Indian could get a wife or be counted a warrior until he had taken a scalp, and Indians were celebrated among themselves for their victories, just as were the knights at King Arthur's court.

While that is true for at least some of the Indian nations, it doesn't hold for all of them. What L'amour does here is provide a frontiersman's viewpoint, I think; but it is important also to realize how much we changed the Indians we encountered. The Lakota changed rapidly with the introduction of the horse, becoming a power that swept the plains of many other nations. The Commanche achieved their almost imperial power in part because of their relations with the Spanish in Mexico and points south. The greatest of the Indian nations became powerful because of their interactions with the West; that was where they absorbed the wealth and power to go on to conquer their neighbors. The standard narrative -- that the Indian was there, more or less unchanged, until the White Man came to steal his land -- ignores that fact entirely. The great nations had only just finished stealing that same land from someone else, using horses or rifles or wealth that they got through trading with Europeans. The powerful, city-based Indians that De Soto had discovered on his voyage were already gone, collapsing either through disease or their own internal wars.

At this point Bendigo is reading Montaigne, while trying to show mercy to a man who wants to kill him. This is also a culture clash: there is no reason to believe that the indian would do the same for him. It is Christian ethics that drives him here -- L'amour makes only passing references to the religious meetings the town holds, but never shows us one. The religion is a background influence, present and powerful but not in the foreground of consciousness.

There is a discussion of theology in this section, though: the point where Indians are said to be unmentioned in the Bible, and Bendigo points out that the Bible doesn't mention the English either. L'amour views the proper role of religion as humane, and is annoyed by religious prejudice, whether it is toward Mormons or Indians or just people in the community who are different.

How does this comport with your own view of the proper role of religion?

The rest of this section is taken up with the beginnings of the cattle drive. We see that the reputation of his town has spread. A lot of time passes here with only a few words, so when the letter reaches him at the end of this section, it reminds us that he's been gone for months. While he has been gone, things are changing at home.