Medieval Lit Essay.

Aaron Lim Si Ru
Dr. Walter Wadiak
HL201: English Literature to 1500
29 November 2010

Power of the Human Agency against the Divine.

Throughout the Middle Ages, the gods and their divine influences were thought to play a major role in the lives of men. The gods in Chaucer’s work are often depicted as agents of great change in the lives of his characters. Henryson, Scottish Chaucerian that he is also explores the positions of man and god in his Testament of Cresseid. Henryson in making use of the divine agency to cast judgment upon Cresseid suggests that there exists a hierarchy of being between man and god in medieval thought. I shall attempt to reveal the depth of influence the gods were thought to have over the realm of human affairs, overt or otherwise. To me, the passive and helpless treatment of Cresseid’s predicament then be seen as metaphors for the limitations of the human agency against the dominion of the gods, as well as the capricious Wheel of Fate.

The world of the Testament of Cresseid is embroiled in war, violence and the destruction of life. Thus, on the surface it seems as if the poem is aimed at evoking the readers’ sympathy for Cresseid’s predicament as the “‘wofull end of this lustie Creisseid’ are punctuated three times by passionate, highly amplified exclamations of grief” (Craun 26). Sklute also points out that many critics agree that the threefold nature of her sufferings suggests that the eventual and noble acceptance of her fate can be construed as a kind of salvation (196). Sklute however argues that we “automatically assume a Christian vision on the part of the author” because the graphic “disfigurement and disintegration of his heroine understandably makes us want her to be saved as a means of consoling ourselves for her miserable plight” (196). In my opinion, not only does the poem not offer Cresseid any chance for salvation, it also condemns her. In fact the whole poem points at the eventual doom of Cresseid, engineered and influenced by the divine powers.

If we were to examine the astrological influences, Venus and Cupid are the prime divinities in the poem; there is not a hint of a benign divinity with perhaps the only exception being Juppiter, “God of the starnis… and nureis to all thing generabill” but he offers no reply to Cupid’s merciless indictment of Cresseid’s blasphemy (170). Their power however is uncontested, “quhilk hes power of all thing generabill / To reull and steir be their greit influence” (148, 149). Phoebus the god of light and rationality is placed in direct opposition to the ascendant Venus, and “hir goldin face” replaces his light of the sun (13). Phoebus here is clearly “on the wane”, the sun never rises in the poem but rather sets twice, first in the introduction, second right before the Complaint of Cresseid (Sklute 189). According to Sklute “in the planet god sequence he [Phoebus] is deprived of his own agency, riding in – not guiding – his own chariot, drawn across the sky and doun into the sey” (189). Henryson’s presentation of the planets in descending order is also rather revealing of his opinion on the weight of their influence. Mann states “Chaucer’s creations of a cosmic perspective all take the form of a movement upwards and outwards” (96). Henryson’s Testament however contrasts with the Chaucerian tradition, “the order in which the planets appear suggests a movement downwards and inwards” (96). This frighteningly claustrophobic effect of the planets “discending fra thair spheiris”, having the cosmos themselves “bearing down on Cresseid” we are able to see the weighty backlash of circumstances on Cresseid’s deeds (Mann 96, 147). This reinforces in a very tangible way the influence the divine agency has that “man’s smallest actions invoke a crushing burden of inevitable consequence” (Mann 96).

With the apparent emphasis on the divine, it is not surprising to note that the sufferings of Cresseid only come near the end of the poem. Henryson places the focus on the gods in the introduction and Cupid’s trial. Since Venus and Cupid are at the centre of the divine agency in this poem, their realm of influence is greatly reflected in the content of this poem. Venus is the Goddess of Love and her influence over this realm of human affairs is described as,

Quhilk Venus hes in reull and governance,
Is sum tyme sweit, sum tyme bitter and sour,
Rich unstabill and full of variance, (233-235)

There is also a “late medieval tendency to equate Venus with the Goddess Fortuna”; the above description of Venus is also quite similar to how Fortuna turns the Wheel of Fortune “instead of the traditional iconography of Venus, ‘naked, fletynge in the large se’, with her garland of roses and her fluttering doves” (Mann 98). Cresseid having enjoyed the height of her fortune is clearly on the downward spiral of the Wheel. “If Venus is fickle, then any who follow her – like Cresseid – must of necessity be fickle” (Sklute 193). This also reflects Henryson’s take on the mercurial nature of erotic love on Cresseid’s part for her “history is in itself an illustration of Venus’ ‘gret variance’” (Mann 98). This troubling conflation could explain Cupid’s merciless indictment focusing singularly on Cresseid’s act of blasphemy, effectively criminalising her and his attempt at disassociating her from Venus. This not only foreshadows her inevitable end but it also reinforces the absolute judgment of the gods and their divine and arbitrary influence over the realm of human affairs.
The narrator himself is not exempt from divine whim, indeed Henryson ensures that the narrator is well aware of the fact; Aries sends down “schouris of haill gart fra the north discend… and causit [him] remufe aganis my will” (6, 21). The narrator functions like a medieval bard, Henryson gives him “ane uther quair I tuik” so we recognize that the narrator is merely recounting a story, and that both the bard and his story must exist under the auguries of the divine. The narrator also “traistit that Venus… to quhome sum tyme I hecht obedience”, yet despite that Venus did not grant him his desires for his obedience, “and in the auld the curage doif and deid” (22,23,32). This is a possible reason for the judgmental and often mocking tone behind the narrator’s voice, Sklute describes him as “a shrewd old man who makes up in moral righteousness for what he lacks in sexual potency”; it is no wonder that his brand of ‘moral righteousness’ is rigid and without mercy. It is upon the influence of these two deities that the narrator pens the Testament “of fair Cresseid, that endit wretchitlie” (63). In a sense, he is appointing himself the arbiter of human affairs of the characters in the Testament, casting judgment upon Cresseid; indeed we often notice the frequent and timely interjections of the narrator in key events. The narrator can thus be seen as a representation of the divine agency as I attempt to highlight the judgmental aspects of his voice.

Before the introduction of Cresseid, he first introduces “fair Venus, the bewtie of the nicht”, and Venus is later described with “greit variance, quhyles perfyte treuth and quyhles inconstance”; the narrator later conflates the image of the goddess with Cresseid as he first introduces her as ‘fair’ as well. Clearly he is preparing the reader to confront the faithlessness and wanton promiscuity of Cresseid before she even appears; the reader is given an impression of Cresseid before she even speaks; the narrator has in fact given us the predicated fate of Cresseid. The narrator interjects, “I have pietie thow suld fall sic mischance”, it appears as if the narrator commiserates with her misfortune, his apparent underlying jealousy of Cresseid (due to him being unfavoured by Venus) recently under the favour of Venus and Cupid suggests that he is merely being schadenfreude in his show of ‘pietie’. Notice that the narrator is quick to excuse her almost immediately “I sall excuse als far furth as I may” then blames in on her “womanheid” all over again. Recall that the narrator says he is acting under the auguries of the gods, namely Venus herself, therefore it supports the idea that Cresseid’s path in the poem is slowly being carved out for her by the narrator (and by extension the gods’ as well), gradually being revealed to us just a step earlier before Cresseid herself takes it (61). Cresseid here does not have a choice in the matter, and it is intriguing to note that she doesn’t even seem to want to have a choice in the matter, throughout the poem she merely laments her misfortunes one after another. Henryson hints at her eventual end with the title of his poem as well. At first in Cupid’s judgment scene, her testament can be read as evidence; her infidelity and sexual transgressions are a testament to her sins. However, the meaning for the word ‘testament’ changes as she “maneir maid hir testament” as a final will before her death (576). Here the divine interpretation of her testament eventually shapes the final testament of Cresseid herself. The conflation of the two meanings reminds us again of the precedence the divine agency takes before that of the human agency.

As noted earlier, Cresseid is an inherently passive character, she does not act, she merely reacts to the events thrust upon her; her reactions are also mostly self centred. The first lament of Cresseid occurs when Diomeid had his fun with her and had “hir excludit fra his companie” (75). Without the presence of her protector and lost in an alien land she launches into her lament; blaming “fals Cupide” and his blind mother Venus for her fate as a sexual outcast (134). In doing so, she absolves herself of responsibility over her own life and subjects herself to the influence of the gods. After Saturn metes out his punishment, the narrator intercedes for her “O cruell Saturne, fraward and angrie, Hard is thy dome and to malitious” (323-324). This is unconvincing because he of all people should know the arbitrary nature of the gods’ decision. If the narrator had meant to be more convincing, he should have interceded during Cupid’s judgment instead of interceding in the midst of her punishment. In retrospect, his plea evinces no sympathy from the readers; it is technically pointless and forces us to question the narrator’s true intent. Her second lament comes after she has been afflicted with leprosy by the gods, her father finds out and “thay togidder murnit had full lang… for he knew weill that their was na succour” (376, 379). It is telling that even for an intermediary between humans and the divine, Calchas is helpless against the will of the gods; needless to say Cresseid is even more powerless and she resorts to blaming her “wicked weird” (385).
In her final lament of the triple “O fals Cresseid and trew knicht Troylus” she finally turns inward and realises that it was she who “clam upon the fickill quheill” of Fortune (546, 550). Cresseid realises that it is not “supernatural malevolence” that was the source of all her misery (Mann 96). Mann argues that divine laws are already in place, something that Cresseid was unaware of until the end. The divine agency is “neither friendly nor hostile; they are the indifferent laws of the universe”, and because Cresseid has disobeyed these laws, she is being punished (95). It doesn’t change the fact that she is a passive character and it is this passiveness that highlights the active influence of the gods on her. The image of Cresseid as a helpless beggar waiting on the streets for alms can thus be seen as a visual metaphor for her passiveness. Some critics argue that “she maybe demonstrating a heroism akin to tragic heroes” but her remark does not in any definite sense indicate a form of salvation (Sklute 196). Given the way the poem was abruptly chopped off, Cresseid’s final proclamation, “Nane but my self as now I will accuse” may actually be construed as a “a resignation to despair” rather than any possible kind of salvation; as well as submission and acknowledgement of the inscrutable and often mutable forces of the divine agency beyond her ken (574, Sklute 196).

Clearly, the influence of the divine plays an important role in medieval life; the Testament of Cresseid is Henryson’s attempt at finding a more definite meaning behind it. Cresseid’s journey through the poem is certainly testament to that kind of epiphany one receives. I cannot help but think that her final realization is merely touching on the tip of the iceberg. The gods’ overt interventions gradually fade away, yet the machinations of the poem continue to guide Cresseid towards her end, a clear hint that the gods work in more ways then one. In the eyes of the medievalists, perhaps it might serve as a lesson in sin and retribution and that the journey of life though determined by the gods can be a meaningful one.




















Works Cited
Henryson, Robert. “The Testament of Cresseid” Troilus and Criseyde. Ed. Stephen A. Barney. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, Inc, 2006. Print.
Mann, Jill. “The planetary gods in Chaucer and Henryson” Chaucer Traditions. Ed. Ruth Morse and Barry Windeatt. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Print.
Sklute, M. Larry. “Phoebus Descending: Rhetoric and Moral Vision in Henryson’s Testament of Cresseid.” ELH 44.2 (1977): 189-204. Print.
Craun, D. Edwin. “Blaspheming Her “Awin God”: Cresseid’s “Lamentatioun” in Henryson’s “Testament”.” Studies in Philology 82.1 (1985): 25-41. Print.