Cohesion in King Horn and Sir Orfeo
Cohesion in King Horn and Sir Orfeo
by Mary Hynes-Berry
Speculum, Vol. 50, No. 4 (Oct., 1975), pp. 652-670
COHESION IN KING HORN AND SIR ORFEO
BY MARY HYNES-BERRY
King Horn and Sir Orfeo are among the finest of the Middle English metrical romances.[1] In both works, we find a plot of love and adventure, of loss and restoration of queen and kingdom. In both, the story makes extensive use of event and motif analogues as it progresses to a happy conclusion through a double climax involving dreams, disguises and revelations. But these similarities are critically misleading.[2] The two romances are basically incomparable. Neither work can be fairly evaluated using the other as a model. This study will show that each of them does demonstrate artistic cohesion - that is, each successfully integrates all its components in accordance with its own ends. But as we examine in turn the presentation of events and the narrative point of view, the plot, organizing structure, and other cohesive aspects of the two works, it should become clear that very different modes of cohesion are both possible and aesthetically satisfying. The similarities that exist between King Horn and Sir Orfeo offer convenient points from which to examine their contrasts. At the same time, the study of these two works can indicate the spectrum of cohesive modes found within the group of narratives usually classified as Middle English romances.
King Horn is a story of action, with interest in the simple facts of an event. The poem is made up of a series of loosely connected episodes in the life of the hero. Psychological motivation is skimpy and transitions depend largely on chronology. Both characters and situations are kept relatively simple, fast-moving and unambiguous. The action, however, is highly dramatized. Almost half of the poem, 692 lines, is in direct address, while there are 838 lines of narrative. Not only are all major events presented through direct address with dramatic narrative representation; background information and the review of past events are similarly treated. Horn, for example, questions a beggar about Modi's wedding plans so that he can prepare his attack. The beggar replies in his own voice, giving us a sense of his reactions and sympathy. As limited as our exposure is, the characters seem vivid because we experience them largely through their own speaking voices. Nonetheless, direct address is used very economically - characters talk to each other but they only say as much as is necessary for the story line. While feelings are expressed, they are declared rather than probed. Just after Horn has been knighted, for example, Rymenhilde greets Horn with this forthright declaration: "Knight, nu is thi time / For to sitte bi me: / Do nu that thu er of spake, / To thi wif thu me take. / Ef thu art trewe of dedes, / Do nu ase thu sedes" (533-538).
Horn's reply makes no mention of love, but
expresses the need to prove his worthiness of her in combat. Rymenhilde
does not reiterate her love, praise his intentions, or indulge in fear for his
safety; she simply replies that she can trust him, then offers her ring as a
token and explains its powers. As important as Rymenhilde's love for Horn
is to the plot, there is clearly no interest in dwelling on emotions. At the
same time, however, our view of Rymenhilde is restricted. All we know
about the king's daughter is that she loves Horn. Everything she says in the
poem concerns her relationship to him, so that we are convinced of her
"sincerity." Even the abruptness of the passage just quoted reinforces our
impression of her single-minded passion to wed Horn.
The narrative of King Horn is even more terse than the dialogue, and just
as economical. It consists primarily of simple statements of action that could
almost be transcribed into stage directions. There is very little description.
However, an occasional line describes emotion: "He segh Rymenhilde sitte /
Ase heo were of witte / Sore wepinge and yerne" (1083-85). In other cases,
we are given editorial comments on character: "At hom lefte ffikenhild, /
That was the wurste moder child" (647-48). There are several physical
descriptions of Horn, but these invariably function in the story. For example,
Horn is repeatedly noted to be the fairest and strongest of all possible
heroes, with a red and white complexion. But his striking good looks and
strength are at least partly responsible for his exile by the Saracens, who fear
him when he comes of age, but who cannot bring themselves to kill him
outright. His outstanding qualities bring him to the attention of King Aylmar
and Rymenhilde although he is accompanied by twelve other youths. In
Ireland, Berild is so taken by his appearance that he invites him home; his
prowess there is so great the Saracen giant can remember only one man who
equaled it and thus reveals himself as the slayer of Murry, Horn's father.
Similarly, Horn's disguises are described in some detail since it is important
that he not be recognizable if he is to rescue Rymenhilde.
There are several points when repetition seems to supersede the general
economy of King Horn's presentation of material. However, elaboration of
any single situation or emotion would be disruptive to the story as it is told.
Thus, instead of providing more details about the action itself, at almost
every point where there is an important turn in the story we find narrative
confirmation of an intention announced in direct address. For example,
Rymenhilde tells Horn how to approach Athelbrus, who can suggest to the
king that Horn be knighted. The narration of how Horn proceeds to do
exactly as she had suggested follows immediately. Athelbrus then goes to the
king with a plan for knighting Horn; the king agrees and we have a
narrative account of the ceremony (445-520). Likewise, Horn outlines his
plan to change clothes with the beggar and rescue Rymenhilde; he is then
described doing what he had planned (1051 ff.). So too Horn's announcement
of what he will do in Suddene is followed by a narration of how his
653
King Horn and Sir Orfeo
intentions were carried out in full (1277 ff.). In these and the many other
possible examples, repetition underscores the progress of the story while
stressing the decisive responses to circumstances that characterize the romance.
Interest in King Horn is in the action, not in why or in the details of
how something is done, but in the fact that heroes do what they say they will
do, that they do what must be done.
The point of view used in King Horn reflects the allusive, externalized
presentation of events. An omniscient narrator sets the stage and triggers the
dialogue. But his omniscience is largely situational. With an ominous phrase
he anticipates future dangers or he expedites the transitions from Ireland to
Westernesse to Suddene to Westernesse. In this way, the narrator creates
suspense and irony, but he does not extend his knowledge from actions to
persons, from events to motivations. As indicated above, the narrative
treatment of characters is summary rather than descriptive. From the first
we hear of them, Horn's companions are judged: "Athulf was the beste /
And fikenylde the werste" (27-28). Thisjudgment is reiterated each time either
one is introduced. Similarly, the vacillating Aylmar is a plot-convenience of a
king, Athulf is the best of all possible friends, and Horn is the ideal hero.
However, character and character development need not be part of every story.
By eliminating the concern for motives, the poem can focus strictly on the
unfolding of dramatic moments.
The mode of presenting events in Sir Orfeo is in direct contrast to that of
King Horn. In Sir Orfeo, we do not find a dramatized presentation of actions
but rather a narrative lyrically conceived, where events are seen in terms of
the emotions implicit in them. Narrative predominates over direct address
about two to one (410 lines of narrative to 194 lines of direct address). Only
key scenes are dramatically represented; all other events and information are
reported. Direct address is limited to the principal characters and by far the
largest proportion is spoken by Orfeo himself (102 of 194 lines). Furthermore,
the speeches fully delineate the speakers' feelings. Dialogue is truly
dynamic with characters responding fully and directly to what has just been
said. Likewise, narrative passages in Sir Orfeo contain many descriptions of
persons and reactions. A comparison of the frightening dreams of
Rymenhilde and of Herodis will indicate how very different the mode of
presentation in the two romances is. Rymenhilde's terror and her dreams
are briefly summarized:
Heo sagh Rymenild sitte,
Also he were of witte:
Heo sat on the sunne
With tieres al birunne . ..
Hue sede, 'noght ine wepe,
Bute ase ilay aslepe
To the se my net icaste,
And hit nolde noght ilaste;
A gret fiss at the furste
654
King Horn and Sir Orfeo 655
Minet he gan to berste.
Ihc wene that ihc schal leose
The fiss that ihc wolde cheose.'
(651-54; 657-64)
Herodis's terror and hysteria are given in vivid detail with the immediacy of
an eyewitness (77-96) and re-emphasized by Orfeo's spoken concern for her
appearance (105-110). The dream also replaces simple statement with elaboration.
After a moving interchange of love and concern between husband
and wife, Herodis tells her dream in detail, including her impressions of the
fairy king and his entourage, as well as of the landscape (131-174).
In accordance with the mode of presentation, the point of view used in Sir
Orfeo is personal. The secondary characters of this romance are not really
more fully presented than those of King Horn, but they are not given any
ethical ratings either. The Fairy King, for example, is quite ambiguous.
Although he steals the queen, he is not really presented as evil; he seems to
operate as much outside our judgment as he does outside of the human
realm, in which he seems to have very little real interest. While Herodis is
indisputedly "good," we only have a strong sense of her as a person in her
moment of hysteria and terror. But our judgment of her comes not from
what we are told as much as from the love and devotion we see she
commands. The steward, likewise, does not operate as much in his own right
as he does as a symbol of the loyalty and love which Orfeo is able to sustain.
But this is very much Orfeo's romance; not only is most of the direct address
spoken by him and most of the action concerned with his doings, but also
the narrative perspective is largely limited to Orfeo's own.3 Just as in real
life, appearances only gradually assume their full meaning. Like Orfeo and
members of the court, we witness and are distressed by Herodis's fright. We
do not understand, as Orfeo does not, the peculiar threat of her soon-to-berealized
nightmare. The narrative recreates the shock of her mysterious
abduction through its simple language and the sharp juxtaposition of Orfeo's
resolute preparations with the stark declaration of her disappearance
(181-194). As the story moves from public loss to private restoration, our
perspective comes even closer to Orfeo's. The sixty ladies hawking are
described with no hint of their significance until Orfeo himself comes close
enough to recognize Herodis among them. We see of fairyland only what
Orfeo sees. We learn of the steward's loyalty at the same rate that Orfeo
does. Our position is not inside Orfeo's head (first person) as much as it is
exactly congruent with the narrator's, an invisible sympathizer looking over
Orfeo's shoulder, sharing his situation and his every word as he talks to
himself in his lonely self-exile. We become participants of Orfeo's emotion.
Our response to this mode of presentation is quite different from the
response to dramatization. There we are definitely audience, sitting, listen-
3 D. Mehl, The 'Middle English Romances of the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries (London,
1968), p. 68, notes that the action is frequently recounted from the hero's viewpoint in
romances. He does not mention Sir Orfeo.
656 King Horn and Sir Orfeo
ing as the action is presented before us. The distancing allows us to know
more than any single character could know. Our interest is directed to the
progress of the action carried out by characters we respond to sympathetically
because we recognize the emotions which they voice. But in a narrative
rendition like Sir Orfeo, all elements are directed towards recreating one
person's emotional experience in us. This emphasis on the pattern and
experience of focused emotion rather than on action is what makes Sir Orfeo
lyrical rather than dramatized.
Despite the differences in mode, the narrative structure of the two romances
is generally similar. In both, a double story based on the theme of loss and
restoration of queen and kingdom is resolved in a double climax. There are
further similarities in details of plot. But the conception and focus of these
elements, towards action on the one hand and an emotional experience on the
other, transform and distinguish the interrelationship of story, theme and
climax in the two works.
King Horn is a romance of Horn's relationship with Rymenhilde and with his
hereditary enemies, the Saracens. The two story threads alternate, linked to
each other by circumstantial causality but progressing through contrasting
patterns. The Saracen subplot opens the story with a major loss: the Kingdom
of Suddene is conquered by the pagans and Horn, the royal heir, is set adrift on
the sea. In three subsequent scenes, Horn, who lands safely in Westernesse,
progresses smoothly to win increasingly important battles with the pagans until
he recovers Suddene and is restored as ruler. On the other hand, in the
Rymenhilde episodes which interlace, all goes well initially. Horn and
Rymenhilde fall in love and Horn is knighted. But the three subsequent
episodes of this plot pose increasingly severe obstacles to their happily ever
after. Horn resolves each problem until, with the defeat of Fikenhild, he
eliminates all future threats and, as the epilogue affirms, irrefutably establishes
himself as Rymenhilde's royal mate. The structure can be outlined as follows:
1-28 Introduction
29-246 Saracens:I nitial loss: Suddene conquered by pagans; Horn
exiled.
247-596 RymenhildeI:n itial success: love established; Horn knighted.
597-646 Saracens:F irst reversal of loss: skirmishw ith and defeat of
a small band of pagans in Westernesse.
647-750 Rymenhilde: First complication: Fikenhild's treachery.
Horn is exiled from Westernesse, separated from Rymenhilde
but pledges to return.
751-920 Saracens: Second reversal: Horn defeats a large pagan
force threatening Ireland.
921-1288 Rymenhilde: Second complication: Horn rescues Rymenhilde
from Modi; formal marriage of lovers but not
consummated.
1289-1388 Saracens: Third and full reversal: Horn invades and
recovers Suddene.
1389-1498 Rymenhilde: Third complication: Horn rescues Rymenhilde
from Fikenhild; permanent reunion of lovers.
1499-1530 Epilogue.
King Horn and Sir Orfeo 657
As the outline suggests, the story of King Horn depends more on multiplication
and variation of conflicts than on intensification of any single situation. For
example, the different emphasis in the loss and restoration pattern for the two
story threads provides variety and interest. At the same time the disinterest in
intensification is suggested by the fact that there is no direct causal connection
between the story threads, even though both end with full restoration. In
general, episodes tend to climax and reach a resolution internally; the outcome
of the immediate problem is never left in suspense. While the resolution
normally creates circumstances which lead to later episodes, the connection
between events is not inevitable, as it tends to be in classically dramatic works.
This can be illustrated through the functioning of the subplot. The Saracen
episodes are the major factors for motivation and transition in the main story
because of the complications they create. It is the Saracens who are responsible
for Horn's exile; this exile brings him to Aylmar's kingdom and Rymenhilde's
arms; however, the Saracens do not actually influence Rymenhilde to love and
pursue Horn. Later, the Saracens are indirectly responsible for the delay in
Horn's return from Ireland to Rymenhilde and Westernesse, for they kill the
king's sons so that Horn is encouraged to stay to defend the Irish from further
attacks. But again, knowledge of Horn's success at the Irish court does not
incite Modi to seek Rymenhilde's hand. Finally, because Horn wants to restore
his country to Christianity and himself to his proper rank, he leaves
Rymenhilde open to the intrigues of Fikenhild. The defeat of Modi, however,
does not require that Horn return to his fatherland, any more than the
adventures in Suddene entail a second treachery on Fikenhild's part.
Despite the circumstantial causality, all the episodes of King Horn do fit
into a coherently progressive pattern in which every incident contributes to
the development of the story. For example, confrontations with the Saracens
form clear demarcations of the stages in the Horn-Rymenhilde relationship.
In the first half of the romance Horn's seaside fight after his knighting
separates the progressive success in love immediately preceding it from the
complications introduced immediately after with Fikenhild's treachery.
Throughout the whole work, the Saracen-oriented incidents provide for the
long time span that emphasizes the strong bond between the lovers.
But the subplot functions in its own right as well. It provides variety and
adventure, especially in the first half. The Saracens become the primary
symbol of Horn's capacity as a warrior. Furthermore, they represent a real
and critical threat that is independent of the Rymenhilde story.4 But, what is
more important, the author specifically welds the fighter to the lover. As a
lover, he is also a warrior; he defeats both Modi and Fikenhild in combat.
But even in the Saracen fights, his success is linked to his love, either by
reference to the ring which Rymenhilde gave him or, as in his battle in
Suddene, by his desire to be of equal rank with his love, and thus fully
worthy of her.
4 This is a significant difference between King Horn and courtly romances. Here, fighting is
not an elegant activity but necessary for survival. Still the interest is not in combat as such; only
50 lines, all highly formulaic, are devoted to fighting.
658 King Horn and Sir Orfeo
The strongest structural indication that the love story is more important
than the warrior motif is the fact that the double climax occurs within the
main story, with the Saracens here, as elsewhere, offering the circumstantial
cause for the second climax. Under very similar conditions, Horn rescues
Rymenhilde from Modi and then from Fikenhild. D. M. Hill argues that the
close similarity should make us look more carefully at the meaning of the
romance.5 He sees it as a Bildungsroman showing Horn's growth to maturity
in love and adventure as he learns to integrate the values of each into his
whole person. The conflict with Modi represents Horn's attainments within
the warrior ideal. He then symbolically establishes his majority by winning
back Suddene. He finally applies the mastery of self necessary for the
warrior to the lover and wins back Rymenhilde again. Hill tends to project
modern values and readings in his attempt to justify the romance. He
overstresses the mixture of symbols and non-symbols he depends on, without
taking sufficient account of the emphasis that emerges in the story itself.
In doing so, he fails to note the narrative patterns and the decidedly
dramatized character of the incidents. King Horn's stress on action and the
clear disinterest in motives or psychology does not encourage a symbolic
interpretation as elaborate as Hill's.6
Nonetheless, as sparsely as they are narrated, the events of King Horn are
meaningful. King Horn is the story of the career from boyhood to manhood
of a knight-lover; there is a persistent interest in both adventure and love.
However, the theme is not a symbolic one, meant to be abstracted from the
story, but a meaning which is made evident in the sequence of events and
emphasized by reliance on the technique of theme and variation. Emphasis
is created through controlled repetition of events rather than elaboration of
an idea. The plot of the romance consists of several sets of analogous
situations, varied slightly. There is a pleasure for the audience in grasping
the interwoven patterns of the plot, in recognizing similarities as well as in
distinguishing the skill of the narrator in creating variations. Moreover, it is
the variations which point up thematic significance. We have already indicated
how the subplot is made up of four analogous scenes of confrontation
with the Saracens. Horn develops from a youth orphaned and exiled by the
invaders into a warrior who not only can win battles against them, but who
successfully attacks and drives the Saracens out of his fatherland. The main
plot is similarly composed-the love between Rymenhilde and Horn is
initiated through a set of parallel encounters. When Rymenhilde first sends
for Horn to tell him of her love, the prudent Athelbrus has Athulf disguise
himself. This confrontation not only indicates the passionate force of
Rymenhilde's love by her greeting, it also indicates the depth of Athulf's love
and devotion to Horn. The fury with which Rymenhilde turns on Athelbrus
5 D. M. Hill, "An Interpretation of King Horn," Anglia 75 (1957), 157-72.
6 See Mehl, Thd Middle English Romances, p. 51, for similar reservations about Hill's reading. In
both cases, objection. is to the degree to which arguments are taken. There is no textual
indication, for example, that Horn feels any conflict in his roles as knight and lover.
King Horn and Sir Orfeo 659
when she discovers the deception is a dramatic testimony that more than a
whim is involved. When Horn finally does arrive, his prudent, mature
considerations contrast with her impetuous passion. Thus, the parallel
scenes show the respective virtues of Horn and Athulf and the total commitment
of Rymenhilde, as well as provide entertaining contrasts.
The double meeting of the lovers anticipates the double climax of the romance
where again Rymenhilde penetrates a disguise in the first incident
to establish that she does love Horn, and affirms her love in the second
episode. But the emphasis of the climaxes is on Horn. The Modi conflict is
chiefly concerned with Horn's attempt to test Rymenhilde's love and to
inform her of his identity by a series of riddles and tricks that demonstrate
his ingenuity and intelligence. Fikenhild offers a different set of challenges.
Horn must deal with outright treachery from a subordinate and with an
enemy who anticipates his attack. Horn is equal to both threats. However,
his growth as a lover is also suggested by the twin climax. The Fikenhild
section, which is only one-third as long as the Modi episode, spends a much
greater proportion of the narrative describing how Horn learns of the
danger. By chance, a messenger brings the news of Modi's intentions to the
unsuspecting Horn (40 out of 373 lines). In the second case, Horn dreams of
the danger as Rymenhilde weeps (20 out of 104 lines). Her tears of blood
reaffirm Rymenhilde's love, and the dream indicates that Horn has not just
passively accepted her passionate wooing, but now he himself feels a
spiritual bond between them. The scene in the castle in the Fikenhild
episode is a further indication of the development. Horn's disguise as a
minstrel is not used to test Rymenhilde's love, but to produce a manifestation
of it; music is an appropriate symbol of the harmony between them that
will prevail over all treachery. As the story unfolds and Horn reaches
maturity, we see that he is an outstanding knight-lover not only because he
responds decisively but also because he acts. For example, Horn undertook
the first encounter with the Saracens in order to establish fully his right to
knighthood, after the ceremony had been engineered by Rymenhilde to
lessen the difference in rank between them. Horn initiates the last encounter
himself, refusing to lie with Rymenhilde until he has indisputably established
his hereditary, as well as his inherent nobility. Moreover, the epilogue
affirms his mature control as Horn, accompanied by Rymenhilde, establishes
an agent of law in each place that he restored to order, in inverse chronology
of his successes. King Horn is set in a world where enemies are a
threatening reality, rather than a chivalric ritual, and where love and
heroism are not to be proclaimed but to be proven, not just once, but
repeatedly.
The logic of progression in King Horn thus depends on chronology and
thematic progression as Horn develops from boyhood to maturity and control.
While there is no overwhelming causal flow from episode to episode, we
recognize the coherence of the work because of the skilfull use of theme and
variation in the construction of the plot. Moreover, this technique charac660
King Horn and Sir Orfeo
terizes the cohesion of the work as a whole. King Horn is interlaced with
analogues not only of incidents but of motifs and characters as well. These
analogues create a nexus of emotional unity even where intrinsic causal
connection is absent. We can better appreciate the real skill of the poet by
examining how almost all of the many formulaic and conventional elements
of the poem contribute to the experience of the whole. For example,
Rymenhilde gives Horn a ring. This somewhat magical ring is a conventional
romance motif and there is close verbal identity between the passages in
which it is mentioned in King Horn. However, the repetition only emphasizes
the implication that the real magic of the ring is the strengthening and
inspirational power of love. Rymenhilde says when she bestows it on Horn:
The stones beoth of suche grace
That thu ne schalt in none place
Of none duntes beon ofdrad,
Ne on bataille beon amad,
Ef thu loke theran
And thenke upon thi lemman. (571-76)
Not only does the power of the ring depend on his thoughts of her as much
as on the virtues of the stones; it also bestows only psychological protection
from fear and panic, rather than physical safety. The ring is then mentioned
in four of the five subsequent battle scenes, two of which are part of the
subplot and therefore not directly linked with Rymenhilde at all. When
fighting the Saracens to prove his worthiness for knighthood:
He lokede on the ringe,
And thoghte on rimenilde.
He slogh ther on haste.
On hundred bi the laste. (613-616)
When fighting his father's killer, an emotional link with his love is established:
He lokede on his rynge
And thoghte on Rymenhilde,
He smot him thuregh the herte,
That sore him gan to smerte. (873-76)
The ring is a literal symbol of love and recognition when it becomes the
means by which Rymenhilde learns of Horn's presence at the wedding feast
with Modi. And again in the Fikenhild incident, just before Horn strikes
down his enemy:
He lokede on the ringe
And thoghte on Rymenhilde. (1483-84)
Subduing the magical powers of the ring contributes to the realism and
matter-of-factness that mark the romance, but it also makes the ring a much
King Horn and Sir Orfeo
more meaningful symbol of the love and the power of love between Horn
and Rymenhilde. It also unites the two story threads by establishing Horn as
one whole person, not an epic hero who fights and then returns to the other
sphere of love and court, but a man whose whole life is informed and made
better by the fact of his love.
There are several cases when the same word is used in two contrasting
situations. A very effective instance occurs when Athelbrus brings Athulf
rather than Horn to Rymenhilde. She curses him with the same words that
Aylmar uses when he finds Horn in his daughter's arms:
'Hennes thu go, thu fule theof, ('Awei ut,' he sede, 'fule theof!)
Ne wurstu me neure more leof;
Went ut of my bur
With muchel mesauentur. (323-27; 707-10)
The irony of the situation is that Athelbrus's ruse was devised from the fear
of creating the opportunity for just such a situation as that which developed
and led to Horn's exile.
The eight different sea voyages are also all described in a few lines in
equivalent terms. These descriptions introduce a sense of distance and
movement into the poem, but they also become a signal of the beginning of
another phase of Horn's career. In only one case does this description repeat
exactly. At the beginning of the poem, as Horn undertakes his first voyage
in exile, and in the last lines of the poem as Horn returns to Suddene to rule
with Rymenhilde as his queen, the same couplet is repeated:
The se bigan to flowe
And horn child to rowe. (And horn gan to Rowe) (117-18; 1503-04)
The verbal identity is all the more striking because of the tremendous
changes that took place between the two incidents.
A motif which creates a rather complex web of relationships between the
various episodes of the poem is that of the dream. Rymenhilde's dream
warns of Fikenhild's first treachery, while Horn's dream warns of his second
betrayal. Both dreams are sea dreams and are symbolic representations of
the threat. But the differences indicate the growth of Horn and
Rymenhilde's relationship: Rymenhilde's dream is general and open to
conflicting interpretations, while Horn's results from the close spiritual
union between them, and is quite specific. Elements from the dreams link
the Modi incident with both earlier and later parts of the poem with which it
has no direct relationship. When he arrives at the castle, Horn hints at his
identity to Rymenhilde by recasting her dream, which was about Fikenhild.
Later, his dream of her danger takes the form of a threat of drowning,
which killed the .messenger who should have communicated between them
when Modi threatened to break up their engagement.
Characters contribute further to interrelationships among episodes of the
661
662 King Horn and Sir Orfeo
poem. One of the most important is Athulf, the antithesis of Fikenhild. Not
only does he act as a surrogate for Horn, receive a ring along with Horn
from Rymenhilde and later marry the Irish princess orginally offered to his
friend; he also is the only acknowledged participant in Rymenhilde's loyalty
during Horn's exile and the threat from Modi. Athulf is the one who
accompanies Horn back to Suddene and it is his father who reports on the
recent history of Suddene and affirms his loyalty to both Horn and Christianity.
Athulf also goes back to Westernesse with Horn after his dream, and
there his cousin Arnoldin warns them of Fikenhild's preparations. These
two relatives not only give Athulf greater prestige by re-enforcing his loyalty
by association, they also contribute to the sense of concreteness and of
containment, despite the great span of time and distance in the romance.
Saracens, or pagans, are an element of many romances. Their structural
importance and function has already been mentioned in terms of full utilization
of convention and creative use of pattern and variation. The
repetition-variation of the climax has also been discussed somewhat, but it
should be noted how integrally stock conventions are used in these cases.
The disguise of the hero as a beggar to get at his enemies goes back to the
Odyssey; in King Horn the convention is combined with local custom to make
it all the more functional a disguise. Because the bride was accustomed to
give drinks to beggars at her wedding, Horn has a direct chance to pose his
riddle, make his pun, and slip her the ring without arousing suspicion or
undue public notice of himself. In the second climax, Horn's appearance as
a minstrel varies the motif, calls up a different set of analogues, and testifies
to Horn's skill in courtly as well as martial arts. However, the variation is also
fitted to the new situation - Fikenhild has made his tower impenetrable to
armed attack, and more than likely he would be prepared for the possibility
of Horn's assuming the disguise of a beggar again (the wedding is not open
to the public). But minstrels would be a natural and almost indispensable
element in any wedding feast.
This is only a sketchy indication of the web of relationships which characterizes
the romance. How many of these patterns the "author" consciously
planned, how many of them he adopted from other sources, how many
came from intuitive awareness of oral traditions underlying the style, and
how many are simply fortuitous is impossible to determine. Whatever the
proportion, the fact is that the vast majority of formulas, conventions and
analogues actively function in the romance to create a cohesion and emotional
coherence that the episodic and circumstantial cause and effect structure
and the sketchy motivation could not sustain alone. As it is, King Horn is
a coherent sequence of dramatized moments tracing the hero's progress
from boyhood to maturity. The multitudes of discernible patterns formed
through repetition and variation contribute simultaneously to the significance
and to the cohesion of the work. At the same time, the focus on the
unfolding of the action and the categorical presentation of events discourages
too elaborate or abstract analyses of meaning. King Horn operates with a
King Horn and Sir Orfeo 663
clearly limited perspective, but the limits are so effectively set that the
romance is both entertaining and convincing. Every time we see the Saracens,
they are ruthlessly attacking innocent people, so we believe it is indeed
noble to defeat them. Every time we see Fikenhild, he is being treacherous,
so we agree that he is indeed the worst companion Horn could have. Even
more important, however, is the fact that every time we see Rymenhilde she
is affirming her passion for Horn - we do not need to know why she loves
him because there is no doubt that she does love him. Likewise, as each
episode progressively shows how fair and perfect a hero Horn is, and how
he himself integrates his love with his heroic deeds, we close the romance
impressed by how decisively heroic and fair this lover is.
Sir Orfeo is a shorter and more "organic" story, with far more complicated
and abstract psychological and thematic implications. For this reason its
essentially simple two-part plot has caused a great deal more critical debate.
A. J. Bliss, editor of the standard edition, sees Sir Orfeo as consisting of a
prologue and three sections of approximately equal length: 57-194, loss of
the queen; 195-476, search for and eventual regain of the queen; 477-604,
return to the kingdom and welcome by the steward.7 D. M. Hill feels there
are just three parts, a prologue and two assays: 54-476, the major assay
involving Herodis and romantic love; and 477-604, the minor assay dealing
with the steward and epic love or loyalty.8 J. B. Severs suggests a five-part
structure consisting of the prologue and four main sections: 57-194, loss of
Herodis; 195-280, loss of the kingdom; 281-476, Orfeo's fairy experiences,
recovery of Herodis; 477-604, Orfeo's human experiences, recovery of the
kingdom.9 There are valid arguments for all these divisions and all of them
indicate the nature of the double climax and attempt to deal with the
relationship of the two stories. But both Bliss and Hill fail to recognize the
beginning of the subplot in the first half of the romance. Severs's arrangement
gives a much clearer outline of the thematic and narrative breaks in
the poem. But it is possible to modify his arrangement by recognizing a
somewhat different emphasis. At the exact center of the work, the pattern of
loss begins to reverse into a pattern of restoration. At line 303, Orfeo sees,
for the first time, the sixty ladies hawking, with Herodis among them. There
is a rhetorical indication that this is, in fact, a break in the pattern of the
past. This is the fourth in a series of visions Orfeo has. The other three are
recurring: "He might se him bisides / (Oft in hot under-tides)" (281-82); "&
other while he might him se" (289); "& other while he seighe other thing"
(297). In this case there is an emphatic rhetorical definiteness, "And on a day
he seighe him biside" (303), as well as specific lack of vagueness about their
source and destination. In the first place, they have tangible success in their
hunting, and Orfeo not only sees where they go, but also he follows them.
7 Bliss, "Introduction," pp. 41-43.
8 D. M. Hill, "The Structure of Sir Orfeo," Medieval Studies 23 (1961), 139.
9 J. B. Severs, "The Antecedents of Sir Orfeo," Studies in Medieval Literature, ed. MacEdward
Leach (Philadelphia, 1961), p. 199.
King Horn and Sir Orfeo
As in King Horn, the two story threads alternate with the emphasis on the
love story.
1-56 I. Prologue
II. Loss
57-200 Herodis
201-302 Kingdom
III. Restoration
303-476 Herodis
477-592 Kingdom
593-604 IV. Epilogue
The relationship of the loss and the restoration of his queen to the loss
and restoration of his kingdom is much less circumstantial in Sir Orfeo than
in King Horn. The link in King Horn is chronological and causal - Horn's
exile by the Saracens leads to his voyage to Westernesse where he meets
Rymenhilde. Orfeo, on the other hand, willingly surrenders his kingdom to
his steward because he has lost Herodis. The subplot is a deliberate consequence
of the main story. In King Horn the emphasis on events controls the
presentation of the main character. Horn is passive; essentially he responds
to the force of circumstances. But the plot of Sir Orfeo depends on will, upon
Orfeo's decision to do and act in certain ways. The abduction of Herodis is
an event outside of his control but does not necessarily involve giving up his
kingdom. The fact that it is a personal and a psychological necessity is
emphasized by the pleas of the court that he remain. Later, Orfeo declares
his intention to view the hawking ladies more closely. Because direct address
is not used often, the use of it becomes emphatic in itself:
'Parfay!' quath he, 'Tide wat bitide,
Whider-so this leuedis ride,
The selve way ichil streche
-Of liif no deth me no reche.' (339-42)
At the turning point of the romance, therefore, Orfeo changes from negative
determination - preventing the abduction, giving up the kingdom - to
positive resolutions that result in his restorations. The force of will is a
critical factor in the first climax. The Fairy King, who took Herodis because
of an apparent whim, carelessly promises Orfeo anything he wants. Orfeo,
whose will has always been firmly fixed on regaining his wife, succeeds by
making the King fulfill his announced decision. Orfeo then makes a definite
plan to test the steward, and assumes a disguise to carry it out. Again will is
at stake; Orfeo does not question his right or his ability to regain the
kingdom. His test is of the steward's will to remain loyal. He is not seeking a
person, as in the first test, or as in all of Horn's conflicts, but a quality.
Because qualities rather than events are the focus of the romance, the effect
becomes a willed, or qualitative, consequence of the cause, rather than a
circumstantial one. The Saracens and the loss of Suddene are facts independent
of Horn's love of Rymenhilde; his recovery of the one does not involve
his recovery of the other, except through the circumstances it creates. Nor is
there any causal link between the Modi intrigue and the Fikenhild treachery,
664
King Horn and Sir Orfeo 665
although there is a similarity in events. But in Sir Orfeo conscious decision
links the plots and the climaxes. Orfeo gives up his kingdom because he lost
Herodis. Once he recovers her, he has no reason to continue his abdication,
but in order to be fully restored he must still command the respect and
loyalty of his subjects, especially those he most trusted. The double climax
thus involves both threads of the story and expresses different values. D. M.
Hill sees the triumph of romantic love in the first assay, and of loyalty or
epic love in the second assay.10 Severs sees the climaxes in terms of Orfeo's
success in both the fairy and the human worlds."1 Kinghorn suggests that it
is the force of Orfeo's humanity that always prevails; even in the fairy court
it is his love and wit that wins out, just as the strength of the steward's love
for him is later verified.12 All these critics indicate different tenable emphases,
but they all indicate, too, that the focus of Sir Orfeo is on the hero's
qualities rather than on action or event. The romance deals with a very
different world from that of King Horn. Though it is still a chivalric world,
fighting is not critical. The armed knights of Orfeo and the Fairy King are
only in the background. The conflicts are of will, and Orfeo demonstrates
the spiritual, intellectual and cultural attributes and achievements of a
knight and lover rather than the physical ones.
But our appreciation of Orfeo's qualities comes not only from the words
we hear him speak or the things we see him do, but also from reactions to
him. His love for and loyalty to his wife are complemented by the love and
loyalty he produces in others. The process of Sir Orfeo is a progressive
vitalizing of all the conventional values and virtues. It is not just that kings
are always noble, brave and loving of their queens who are inevitably the
most beautiful and worthy of women. The truth of these declarations is the
substance of the romance. In fact, the stature of Orfeo's achievement is
increased because the introductory descriptions are not as extravagant as
they are in many romances; they are even modest in terms of what the poem
shows. The only absolutely superlative praise is given to Orfeo's harping.
But the events of the poem bear it out. His harping is able to charm the
beasts of the forest and the king of Fairyland; it is responsible for evoking
the total reaffirmation of love and devotion in men who have not heard of
him for ten years and believe him dead. His boldness and bravery amaze the
Fairy King who can remember no other mortal who ever dared to enter his
kingdom unabducted. Orfeo's promise to Herodis just before he hears her
dream is not just a lovely echo of Ruth to Boaz, but a sincere vow that he
keeps by following her into the unknown, fairyland:
Whider wiltow to, & to wham?
Whider thou gost ichil with the,
& whider y go, thou schalt with me. (128-30)
10H ill, "Structure,"p : 139.
1 Severs, "Antecedents," p. 199.
12 R Kinghorn, "Human Interest in the Middle English Sir Orfeo,"N eophilologu5s 0 (1966),
368.
King Horn and Sir Orfeo
Distinguishing the last ten lines of the romance as an epilogue makes the
relationship of the process of vitalization to the narrative structure of the whole
much clearer. In many ways, this is a circular poem, returning literally, qualitatively
and circumstantially to where it began. The interest in psychology and
qualities rather than in actions or events which produce tangible change is
complemented by artistic self-consciousness. The prologue begins with a famous
definition and history of the lai form, which goes in part:
When kinges might our y-here
Of ani meruailes that ther were,
Thai token an harp in gle & game
& maked a lay & ghaf it name. (17-20)
The prologue then goes on to characterize King Orfeo and his wife. The
body of the poem verifies the characterizations as it reverses the losses
sustained in the first half. The epilogue assures that things have been
restored to their original condition and then gives a history of this particular
lai in words very close to those of the general history:
Harpours in Bretaine after than
Herd hou this meruaile bigan,
& made her-of a lay of gode likeing,
& nempned it after the king.
That lay 'Orfeo' is y-hote:
Gode is the lay, swete is the note. (597-602)
Sir Orfeo conforms much more closely to the classical concept of unity than
King Horn does. The emphasis on will and consequence makes the causal
progression of the story essentially ineluctable. Thus, not only do all elements
function in the work, they function with a single end. Nothing can be
added or removed without interfering with the logic of progression. The
organic unity of the plot is reinforced by analogical patterns of repetition
and variation that are also focused on the same end. Both Herodis and
Orfeo see ,the King of the Fairies in the hot undrentides (58, 65; 282)
accompanied by his fairy entourage. Both times the visions are an indefinable
composite of dream and reality. Herodis says she dreamt, but the Fairy
King does abduct her the next day as he said he would, and Orfeo's later
experiences confirm her descriptions of people and landscape. Orfeo's own
experience is not called a dream but it initially seems hallucinatory. The
King and his followers come out of nowhere and disappear just as inexplicably
(288, 296). The emotional strain and physical stress of hunger and
exposure so vividly contrasted to his former state make hallucinations plausible;
but what follows is real. Both dreams are at critical stages of the story.
Herodis is abducted in the aftermath of her dream and rescued in the
aftermath of Orfeo's. Just as the double climax of King Horn is full of
obvious similarities, the two climactic scenes in Sir Orfeo have parallel details.
Severs has found a rather extensive list of correspondences between Orfeo's
two assays: in both, the setting is a royal court; Orfeo is disguised as a
666
King Horn and Sir Orfeo 667
minstrel; his old and ragged clothes play a part; the rulers are not aware of
what is being sought; Orfeo uses a strategy of misrepresentation or withholding
of information; Orfeo has a right to what he seeks; the harp-playing
leads to the climactic incident; in both cases, Orfeo succeeds.13
The use of analogues to develop meaning in Sir Orfeo is complemented by
the extensive use of antithesis to create a sense of immediacy and to maintain
the emotional intensity and suspense. The over-all structure of the
poem has been shown to be antithetical, since the complete loss of the first
half is reversed into complete restoration in the second. This large pattern is
reflected in several corresponding antithetical scenes such as the court's
mourning as Orfeo leaves and its rejoicing after he returns. The first twothirds
of the poem, up to the first climax, consists of a steady series of
antithetical scenes of approximately equal length juxtaposed to one another.
The beauty and calm of the orchard in which Herodis sleeps (57-76) is
abruptly shattered by her terrible hysteria (77-96). Orfeo's natural concern
and his reassurances (97-130) are all the more poignant in the face of the
unnatural threat of the dream which alternates between the wonders of the
fairy world and the terror of its threats (131-174). After Orfeo leaves court,
his decision contrasting with the confusion of his people, there is a long and
effective passage which creates a sense of Orfeo's condition through a series
of five contrasts between his present condition and his former royal state.
The antithesis is rhetorically underlined by the repeated construction: "He
that hadde had . . . Now . . ." (234-262). The peaceful and enchanting
harmony of his harping in the forest (267-280) is in direct contrast with the
noise and confusing variance of the fairy king's entourage (281-302). Orfeo's
pleasure in the hawking ladies (303-318) is shattered by his recognition
of Herodis, to whom he cannot speak (318-30). His initial despair and
sorrow (331-38) is reversed by his decision to follow her no matter what the
cost (339-46). The perfection and beauty of the fairy landscape and castle
(347-76) is horribly disrupted by the tableau in the courtyard (387-408).
But this scene is immediately placed beside the calm elegance of the fairy
court (411-18), which only emphasizes how far this world is from the
distresses of human life. The Fairy King's frank astonishment at Orfeo's
presence (421-28) is balanced by Orfeo's casual explanation that he is just
doing his job (429-34). The primary tension of the romance from this point
on becomes a more subtle interplay between outer appearance and the
antithetical inner reality. Orfeo's apparently strict professional motives in
coming to Fairyland totally belie the very intense and critical cause of the
journey. His choice of reward seems haphazard, although in fact Herodis is
the only thing he is interested in. The Fairy King attempts to evade his
bargain by appealing to the antithetical appearance the couple would offer:
A sori couple of you it were,
For thou are lene, rowe & blac,
& sche is louesom, with-outen lac. (458-60)
13 Severs, "Antecedents," p. 201.
King Horn and Sir Orfeo
Knowing how deeply they are united in reality, Orfeo counters him by
referring to the contradiction the king threatens to create between his royal
trust and behavior by refusing to let Orfeo take his love.
Back in Winchester, Orfeo's residence at the beggar's hut and his strange
appearance in the eyes of the nobility is in strong contrast with his real
condition and deep-seated nobility. As with the fairy king, his words to the
steward invert the true state of affairs and his motives. The deep sorrow of
the steward at hearing of Orfeo's death recalls Orfeo's grief after the disappearance
of Herodis; but this sorrow is turned into great joy when he
realizes the true state of affairs - the reality of the steward's love makes it
possible for Orfeo to assume his true reality again instead of the disguise.
The extensive and varied use of antithesis is made possible by the use of
narrative control. Since an impersonal narrator is used, sections such as the
series of contrasts between kingly and exiled conditions are possible, while
they would be awkward at best in the mouth of a first-person narrator. But
by limiting the narrator's perspective to Orfeo's, the scenic antitheses have
psychological validity as well as emotive effect - in our everyday experience
our first impression of a scene may well be in strong contrast with the
meaning we learn to invest it with. But the antithesis that distinguishes and
elevates this romance to such a high level of art is that between its complexity
as artifact and its essential simplicity. The language itself, with its simple
diction and syntax, its spontaneous interjections and exclamations, and its
speaking voice, belies all the formal complexities it transmits. The passionate
simplicity of the language corresponds to the simple passions that inform
the poem.
Though they are simple, these passions are depicted with a powerful
reality, a reality not disturbed by the many fantastic elements in the romance.
On one hand, these elements are treated quite matter-of-factly.14
While the true extent of the Fairy King's power is not clear when Herodis
tells her dream, no one questions the existence of the Fairy King. Again,
Orfeo seems to be able to enter the geographical fairy world without any
difficulty. Over and above this, the kind of movement from dream to fairy
world discussed above prepares us for each fantasy-world sequence. And
this fairy world, as Kinghorn points out, is given physical and geographical
details as well as activities that correspond to the known human and court
world.15 The ten hundred knights and sixty ladies belong to both Orfeo and
the Fairy King's entourage; just as Orfeo's army is powerless to resist fairypower,
those who accompany the Fairy King cannot interfere with the force
of love, despite their grim countenances.
But the most powerful force for the credibility of these fantastic elements
14 See D. Allen, "Orpheus and Orfeo: the Dead and the Taken," Medium Aevum 33 (1964),
102-11, for discussion of how folk beliefs may be reflected in Sir Orfeo. D. Everett comments on
the "matter-of-factness" characteristic of M. E. romances in Essays on Middle English Literature
(Oxford, 1955), p. 30'
15 Kinghorn, "Human Interest," p. 366.
668
King Horn and Sir Orfeo
is the psychological and emotional realism that dominates the poem.
Herodis's terror and Orfeo's love and concern are moving and convincing.
The caution with which Orfeo never admits his real interest in coming to
court and his reliance on his wit rather than the Fairy King's sympathy strike
us as very sound. Despite his detachment and disinterest in the human
world, the Fairy King is very human in his surprise at Orfeo's boldness, his
enthusiasm which leads to his rash promise and his attempt to sidestep his
obligations by an appeal to propriety. The steward's behavior and exclamations
also ring with sincerity and humanity. All contribute, along with the
structuring of events, to effect what Hill calls a logical and emotional necessity
in the poem.16
Both the reality of and the response to Sir Orfeo are very different from
those appropriate for King Horn. In Sir Orfeo, meaning does emerge from
the action but it is a qualitatively different kind of meaning. This is not the
story of a hero but the exploration of an emotion. As such, the story takes on
a metaphorical dimension. The psychological and emotional truth of the
romance creates an experience of the decisive power of love and loyalty that
is all the more striking because of the fantastic overtones. Orfeo literally
affirms the conviction that to lose someone we love is to lose part of ourselves,
by giving up his kingdom when he loses his wife. His love is the one
force that can penetrate the otherwise indifferent and impervious fairy
world; through his harping, the proverbial enchanting power of music
incarnates the power of love's harmony in all realms. If the Fairy King is
shown to have some kind of mysterious control over the inhabitants of the
human world, love is shown to have an even greater and more mysterious
power in the fairy kingdom as well. Our acceptance of the reality of Sir Orfeo
ultimately lies in our belief in the elemental, the powerful and the somewhat
fantastic nature of love.
The change from the action-dominated world of King Horn to the artistic
sophistication of Sir Orfeo should not be attributed to the hundred years that
lie between their respective compositions. In fact, many English metrical
romances written well after Sir Orfeo are much closer to the mode of presentation
found in King Horn. Rather the two works illustrate different kinds of
interest in and perception of events.17 Furthermore, the different focus
means that each of the two works calls for a different kind of response.
On the one hand, our pleasure in King Horn depends on our recognition of
the protagonist as one who meets our expectations of a hero - Horn encounters
and resolves an interesting variety of circumstances which are
vividly presented in a coherent progressive sequence. The work depends on
a well-defined field of interest; it stresses an exemplary pattern of action
16 Hill, "Structure," p. 111.
17 Considerations of space prevent full discussion of the different backgrounds of these two
romances which affect their interests. However, it should be recognized that Sir Orfeo is a
Breton Lay, a very distinctive sub-genre of romance, while King Horn is derived from an
Anglo-Norman chanson de geste.
669
670 King Horn and Sir Orfeo
rather than emotion and there is little interest in psychology. Emphasis and
significance are created by the use of repetition and variation. This
technique allows the poet to avoid elaboration of any single element in his
story so that interest is concentrated on the flow of action and its concurrent
meaning. Thus, while the theme of Horn's growth to maturity is important,
it is not problematic. Furthermore, even the most conventional formulas are
meaningfully integrated into King Horn through the use of repetition and
variation.
In contrast, the pleasure we get from reading Sir Orfeo depends on a quite
different order of response. This romance calls for empathetic participation.
Focus is not so much on the action but on the meaning of love and loyalty,
the emotions which motivate the entire poem. This theme is allusive rather
than categorical. Moreover, there is concern for psychological and emotional
reality with emphasis created by elaboration and manipulation of analogy
and antithesis. The linear causality depends on Orfeo's will so that each
incident follows from the previous action, and no situation is internally
resolved; the double climax restores the world of the romance to an intensified
mirror of what it was at the beginning.
All of these factors mean that Sir Orfeo manifests a quite dramatic and
organic kind of cohesion. But while King Horn is fully cohesive, it is not
organically unified. It is not really dramatic either, despite the fact that the
action is highly dramatized through frequent use of direct address, terse
narrative and episodic structure of dramatized moments. But we should not
conclude that Sir Orfeo is more successfully cohesive than King Horn. Rather,
we can conclude that Sir Orfeo manifests its cohesion according to a structure
sacred to classical aesthetics and still widely admired, while King Horn meets
its own artistic ends very successfully through a mode of presentation which
reflects a different but equally legitimate perception of events and of organization.
UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN
------------------
Footnotes:
1. Quotations throughout are from the Cambridge MS of King Horn, ed. Joseph Hall (Oxford,
1901) and from the Auchinleck MS of Sir Orfeo, ed. A. J. Bliss, 2nd ed. (Oxford, 1966). Line
references follow the quotations in parentheses. Middle English orthographic symbols have
been modernized. Both texts are easily accessible in D. B. Sands, Middle English Verse Romances
(New York, 1966). Because of Sands's emendations, his line enumeration differs slightly.
2 H. Nimchinsky, "Orfeo, Guillaume, and Horn," Romance Philology 22 (1968-69), 1-14,
studies possible source relationships between the romances.