UDK 821.133.1'04.09 Chretien de Troyes 
THE ROLE OF VIOLENCE IN THE ROMANCES OF CHRETIEN DE 
TROYES1 
Miha Pintaric 
Abstract 
Chretien de Troyes, the most famous of the French 12th-century authors of chivalric 
romaces, comes to a very personal view of violence towards the end of his writing career, in 
his Perceval or the grail story. While in his previous works, the first of which was Erec and 
Enid, the object of the present article, he abided by the commonly accepted norms concer-
ning the description of »violence«: there's no »abstract violence«, and it should never befall 
and idea or a tradition while the violence against the individual is-a common occurrence 
considered "creative" and legitimate, if not indispensable, for the making of social hierarchy 
and order, violence ceases to be a topic of interest in his last, unfinished text. 
Violence is not a central topic in the romances of Chretien de Troyes, who 
rather focuses on psychological and moral issues, as well as, towards the end of 
his writing career, on spiritual ones. However, violence was an inseparable part of 
chivalric life and Chretien, together with his audience, probably took it for granted 
(Menard 75). Which is no longer the case for a modern reader of medieval litera-
ture, who is shocked by (even a reported) act of violence and cannot help noticing 
it. Such "critical distance" is missing in the literary texts from Chretien's period. 
Does the absence or, indeed, the supposed inconceivability of this critical distance 
imply that violence had some vital function in the life of medieval men and women, 
on the individual as well as on the social level? To this question, I shall suggest an 
answer with reference to Chretien's romance of Erec et Enide. 
1. THE IDEA 
Violence is abundantly present in Erec et Enide. The form in which it appears 
varies according to circumstances. However, there is at least one typical situation 
in which violence should always be refused, regardless of its particular setting. In 
such cases, though, "violence" should be understood metaphorically: it is an idea 
1 I would like to thank Dr Toby Garfitt for his friendly help when I was writing this article. 
167 
that is never supposed to be "violated". For example: 
D'Erec, le fil Lac, est li contes, This is the tale of Erec, son of Lac, 
Que devant rois et devant contes which, before kings and before counts, 
Depecier et corrompre suelent those who try to live by storytelling 
Cil qui de canter vivre vuelent. customarily mangle and corrupt. 
(Erec et Enide vv. 19-23) (vv. 19-23)2 
These four lines clearly bring out the tension between the (perfect) "idea" of a 
story and individuals who violate it for their private purposes. The literature of Chretien 's 
time almost inevitably pronounces itself in favour of the "idea", not in favour of the 
individual human being. In his days, it was impossible to violate "intellectual property" 
because the concept itself did not exist, while on the other hand, and certainly according 
to Chretien, it was unacceptable to violate the "idea of a story": a story was an aspect 
of Truth, one, indivisible and all-embracing. Today, on the contrary, many individuals 
would claim to possess their own truths, of which there are almost as many instances 
as there were "aspects" of Truth in the Middle Ages. Chretien's modern descendants 
experience truth as something fragmented and only inviolable because of its absolute 
malleability; on the other hand, considered as something "sacred", they protect intel-
lectual property against violence, as well as protecting the individual human being 
against it, atleast in theory. 
Another example of the Idea as an inviolable entity is provided in the passages 
concerning the hunting of the white hart (Erec et Enide vv. 36-62, 288-310, 1793-1820). 
In the Arthurian context, this hunting is an ancient custom which provides the cohesive 
force and authority of an idealised past, highly honoured by medieval traditionalism. 
The custom consists in the privilege, for the knight who kills the white hart, of giving 
a kiss to the lady whom he considers as the most beautiful at the court. An important 
dilemma is therefore raised for King Arthur. If he continues to abide by this custom, 
the risk will be high of his knights falling out with each other, protesting against the 
winner's choice, which might lead to combat and possible killing; if he abolishes the 
custom, he will not honour the tradition established by his forefathers, which would be 
a serious error to the medieval way of thinking. In spite of this tricky situation, Arthur 
does not hesitate a single moment: the custom has to be honoured, even at the risk of 
his knights harming or killing each other. 
De ce vos devroit il peser, 
Se je [or] voloie eslever 
Autres costumes, autres lois, 
Que ne tint mes peres li rois. 
(Erec et Enide vv. 1804-7) 
It should rightly grieve you 
if I sought to impose upon you 
another tradition and other laws 
than those held by my father the king. 
(vv. 1771-4) 
All the knights, however, do not agree with their king. Gauvain, for instance, 
disapproves of his intention and advises him not to stick to the tradition when there is 
no need for it. Nevertheless, Gauvain's thinking is too "modern" for Arthur, who will 
not tolerate it: 
2 Translations by C. W. Carron, Garland, NY & London, 1987, except for the last two, which are by W. 
W. Kibler. 
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Car ne doit ester contredite ... 
Parole puis que rois I' a dite. 
(Erec et Enide vv. 60-1) 
for the word of a king 
must not be opposed. 
(vv. 60-1) 
The word of a king, the earthly equivalent of the verbum, is an idea which obtains 
an independent existence as soon as it is uttered and, as such, exerts its tyranny over the 
individual human being. In addition to this, every individual is supposed to abide by his 
own "idea", i. e. his ideal self, at the cost of bringing violence into his relations with 
other people, and sometimes also into his relationship with his own self. 
2. THE INDNIDUAL 
The violence which is a function of a principle superior to the individual human 
being is considered as the only "good" form of violence. Only those following an idea, 
persistently and regardless of the circumstances, are recognised as moral people and, 
therefore, posses an identity (mos, moris - habit, therefore, "identity"). For medieval 
man, violence is not bad in itself. It is bad when it is a sign of a "fragmented self', whose 
reactions depend on the circumstances and are not the consequence of decisions taken 
in accordance with a higher principle. Instead of conceiving a high idea of himself, in 
accordance withlheideas offionour and justice, instead of trying subsequently to bring 
such an idea into being, an amoral individual never raises above the world of phenomena, 
in which he cannot but "disperse" himself. Some typical instances of badly applied vio-
lence are those of the bandits (Erec et Enide v. 2792 ss) and of the two counts (Erec et 
Enide v. 3314 ss and v. 4688 ss) who cannot control their desire and persist in imposing 
themselves on Enide. Such serious straying away from ideal behaviour is punished by 
death, with the exception of the count who repents of his misbehaviour and is spared. The 
terrible Mabonagrain is not, after all, considered as evil, for his atrocious exploits are the 
consequence of his promise which he intends to honour as long as he objectively can. 
His promise has become the set standard for his ideal self and Mabonagrain is putting 
all his efforts into bringing his real self as close as possible to its ideal image. Every vic-
tory is another "creative" step on the way towards this ideal, which is of a moral nature, 
but also has a social function (which may appear destructive but is, in fact, reassuring 
and eventually confirms the established order: one could indeed send an entire army 
against Mabonagrain and easily get rid of him - however, the very principles of social 
order, the "rules of the game", the Idea, would thus be threatened, exposing the com-
munity to a far greater risk than Mabonagrain himself). The prix, the public recognition 
of socially acceptable achievements as resulting from an inner decorum, consecrates, 
in principle, the unification of what appears with what is. And violence is precisely 
the means by which this creativity is paradoxically realised: action is required, not so 
much in order to transform the world (which would be an all too modern attitude), but 
to bring about the moral growth of the hero and, at the same time, to let him enjoy the 
splendour emanating from his godlike self and mirrored by his "entourage". The per-
fection of such a hero is realised in a dynamic fashion, for it depends on his willpower 
whether ideal and reality coincide or not. When and as long as they perfectly coincide, 
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the hero's self seems static. His actual dynamic character is only revealed in retrospect 
and per negationem, when flawed and arrested by a defeat or by neglect of duty as in 
the case of Erec's recreantise, which splits apart ideal and reality. 
"Creativity" in the romances of Chretien de Troyes therefore appears para-
doxical: material destruction allows for the structuring of the moral and, in Perceval, 
spiritual world. The very fact that violence is a function of an ideal makes it a creative 
and praiseworthy pursuit (surely medieval knights, even the literati, often perverted 
this idea and pushed it beyond all conceivable limits - Bertran de Born was a living 
proof of that). The material world has little worth in itself, almost none. The victorious 
hero does indeed take the defeated opponent's belongings (horse, arms, armour), but 
without the intention of keeping them. One takes things not to pile them up for oneself 
but to give them away or squander them as soon as the opportunity arises. Such was at 
least the "ideal" attitude. In this idealised world, where the material dimension has no 
importance and where gold and silver are outweighed by generosity of spirit, woman 
rules over man and indeed, in a metaphorical way, she behaves violently towards him. 
Mabonagrain, for instance, is but his beloved's puppet, his will is entirely committed 
to fulfilling her wishes. As such, Mabonagrain is an inverted picture of Erec recreanz 
while both heroes are dominated, consciously or not, by their respective women. How-
ever, Mabonagrain finds himself in a situation which is even worse than Erec's, worse 
because contradictory: if he keeps defeating his opponents and chopping their heads 
off, he loses, for reluctant as he may be, he continues his terrible vocation of champion-
executioner; if he is himself defeated, he is a loser because he has lost his prix - his 
actual self is separated from its ideal image, which is equivalent to its obliteration. One 
must not forget, however, that Mabonagrain's idealised world is surrounded by a wall 
of air and thus separated from the "real" world (in the literary sense), in which man 
behaves violently towards woman. Who would know this better than Enide? But in the 
real as well as in an ideal world, violence is by and large the prevailing means of com-
munication between human beings. 
3. THE SOCIETY 
This last statement already applied in epic poetry. Yet epic poetry and the romances 
of Chretien de Troyes are worlds apart. This truism will make it easier to analyse the 
distinctive features which distinguish the use of violence in romances from that in epic 
poetry. Epic violence, exceeding every limit, is mad and absolute. In the Song of Roland, 
the Saracens who refuse to convert to the Christian religion are simply slaughtered. The 
heroes of romances, on the other hand, do not kill women, children or, generally, the 
defeated who beg for mercy (Haidu 163). Roland the epic hero will not blow his horn, 
even at the risk of jeopardising the very cause for which he is sacrificing his life. If Erec 
was an epic hero, he would engage in fighting against the haughty knight Y der right 
away, to get his revenge for the shameful treatment inflicted on him. But Erec, the hero 
of Chretien's romance, is no less wise than he is courageous. He follows Y der, wait-
ing for an opportunity to borrow the arms required for an even combat. In Chretien's 
romances, violence is not absolute but controlled by reason. It is "reasonable", even 
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though only in order to be more efficient. Erec's sense and patience are finally rewarded 
as he defeats Y der, sending him to report to Queen Guenievre and to let her know that 
he has been duly thrashed. 
Toi et ta pucele et ton nain 
Li delivreras en sa main 
Por faire son commandemant. 
(Erec et Enide vv. 1035-7) 
Into her hands you will deliver 
yourself and your maiden and your dwarf, 
to do her bidding ... 
(vv. 1035-7) 
In the world of romances, every feat, every victory has to be reported, by the 
defeated knight, either to the winner's lady, or King Arthur or to Queen Guenievre. A 
victory has to be widely known, so that the winner's reputation grows and his "prix" 
increases: 
Car por neant fet la bonte 
Qui ne via ut qu' ele so it se tie 
(Yvain vv. 4280-1) 
Whoever does a good thing without its being known, 
has done it in vain ... 
(my transl. after Foerster, 1913, vv. 4280-1) 
The society pictured in romances is a "shame-culture" (as opposed to a "guilt-
culture", Akehurst 126): its hierarchy is based on every individual's prix, the feedback 
image of the individual's value mirrored by society and increased by properly applied 
violence. This is why the result of every single combat has to be made known to the 
largest number of people possible. Just as modern tennis players are classified by the 
ATP, there was a somewhat similar classification of knights in the medieval romance as 
perceived by the cultivated medieval audience. Every knight is "classified" according 
to his prix, and defined in relation to the prix of other competitors. Joie de la Cour, for 
instance, is the "Grand Prix" won by Erec, the proof of his superiority over his rivals. 
But there is also something like the "Grand Slam", made up of all the important prizes 
together, won respectively by the main hero of every particular romance. Such a "clas-
sification" of knights, generally accepted and recognised, is not fixed once and for all, 
though: there are champions, yes, but there are also their challengers; there are seniors 
who are overthrown, and there are juniors who take their places. E. Kohler tried to trace 
the very origins of courtly literature to the social and historical reality of such "junior 
knights". Sticking to what is more certain, one can claim that this hierarchy, challenged 
over and over again by "young" knights, might at least have been the socio-historical 
context underlying courtly literature, whatever the reasons that gave rise to it. Chivalric 
romances indeed stage "juniors" whose youth is not necessarily equivalent to their social 
status (the lower nobility, according to Kohler). The opposite is rather true, for most of 
this bunch of young Turks are members of royal families. Their "youth" comes from 
the fact that at the beginning of their adventures reported by the story, they have no 
reputation at all and no social identity or, in some instances, no "name" - if this is not 
exactly the case of Erec, it will be that of Cliges and, later, that of Perceval. But Erec, 
no less than any other of Chretien's heroes, 
... estoit beax et prouz et genz, He was very handsome and valiant and noble, 
Se n'avoit pas .XXV. anz. and he was not yet twentyjive years old ... 
(Erec et Enide vv. 89-90) (vv. 89-90) 
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The question of identity is obviously not reducible to the knight's "youth". A 
knight will rarely reveal his name in advance to someone he is about to begin fighting 
with. This rule applies to those with an excellent reputation as well as to those without 
it, who stand at the beginning of their knightly career. First comes the combat, and only 
then the disclosing of respective identities, provided both parties are still alive. The 
element of surprise is as old as warfare itself. If one's identity was known before com-
bat, the opponent, knowing whom he will be fighting with, could prepare accordingly 
and render his performance more effective. In the Arthurian world, mystery generally 
plays a very important part, and the unknown has a more determining function than 
in a context where everything matches the human scale. Ignorance increases anxiety. 
One's identity will therefore be hidden away from the rival knight in order to frighten 
him and make him uncertain about the outcome of the combat. If the two fighters do 
not recognise each other, their clash will indeed be an opportunity to re-evaluate their 
reciprocal hierarchical status, which should in principle not be challenged after it has 
been defined by the outcome of a (previous) combat. The defeated knight should forever 
remain the liege-man of the winner. However, if the two knights do not recognise each 
other, their encounter is always an opportunity to challenge such acquired status, and, 
in the case of a possibly "inferior" knight, to acquire a greater prix at the expense of a 
hierarchically "superior" one who may be hidden beneath the armour at the other end of 
the lance (unlike in epic poetry, the quiproquo as to identity of characters is one of the 
fundamental narrative devices in Arthurian literature- Menard 388 ss). And even the 
best of knights, of which Erec is an excellent example, has to prove himself constantly 
if he does not wish to be seen as recreanz. Above all, he has to confront the knights with 
whom he has not yet fought, in order to establish their respective "value". The adversary 
is far from being always intrinsically hostile to him. When Erec has defeated Guivret 
le Petit, the latter tells him that meeting him was the greatest joy of his life (Erec et 
Enide v. 3885 ss). The two fighters are not at all essentially hostile to each other, they 
see their combat as a kind of game. Could not the "adventure", then, be redefined as 
the quest for circumstances which make violence necessary? Ironically, violence is a 
kind of game, and even when the stakes are raised to the highest point in a life-or-death 
combat, the ludic aspect is not missing. Is this not why, when there was no need for the 
application of violence out of either necessity (protection) or moral obligation (revenge), 
medieval man resorted to the creation of "artificial" circumstances requiring violence, 
in the form of tournaments? This would certainly point to the fact that in the romances 
of Chretien de Troyes as well as generally in his time, violence is not a vital necessity 
on the concrete, material level, at least not essentially, but rather on the psychological, 
moral, and social levels. What matters is to assert and prove oneself, to realise one's 
potential through competing with other members of the same cast in order to create and 
improve one's prix or "symbolic capital", namely the mixture of intrinsic and "market" 
values established on a relational basis among all those who have the desire and the 
right to participate in the general "classification" of chivalry (Erec et Enide v. 2207 ss). 
A peaceful knight is something quite inconceivable, let alone a pacifist one (Menard 
387-9); such an individual would have no existence, no being, for such recreantise, or, 
in other words, shameful conduct, is socially equivalent to non-being. Violence often 
appears, especially in a modern context, to be a socially destructive principle introducing 
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anarchy into the community. It is therefore ironic that, from the medieval perspective, 
violence is an extremely powerful means of social integration (this conviction was at 
least passively endorsed even by the Church - Kaeuper): whoever declines to resort to 
it when it is considered as necessary, isolates himself from the chivalric and aristocratic 
community. If the Idea, as I have suggested, is the most powerful cohesive principle in 
medieval society, it is precisely violence which is the means par excellence to achieve 
the application of this principle. Violence as a way of living and a way of surviving 
has turned out to be, on another level, a ludic activity with its inevitable psychological 
and social function. 
Today, sport is rigorously separated from warfare, which may explain why, under 
normal circumstances, the aesthetics of sport is superficial. An athlete never commits 
himself totally, that is, his very life is never really at stake. On the other hand, the aesthet-
ics of violence is one of the crucial aspects of what was considered as "beautiful" in the 
Middle Ages, not only in epic poetry, the aesthetics of which is almost exclusively based 
on violence, but also in romance. Chretien himself offers long descriptions of combat, 
arms and armour. In his view, all this is beautiful. Only as late as in his Perceval will 
he adopt a different aesthetic criterion: 
Assez vos de1sse commant, 
Seje m'en vosisse antremetre, 
Mais pof ce h' i voil· pairiemelre 
Q'autant vaut uns moz comme .XX. 
(Le Conte du Graal vv. 2618-21) 
I could tell you all about it 
if I set myself to do so, 
. but! do nofwani to -waste my efforts 
since one word is as good as twenty. 
Such is his "non-description" of the duel between Perceval and Clamadeu des Iles, 
followed by another, between the main hero and Orgueilleux de la Lande: 
La bataille fu fiere et dure, The battle was long and hard 
De plus deviser n'ai je cure, but it seems to me a waste of effort 
Que paine gastee ma samble... to tell more about it ... 
(Le Conte du Graal vv. 3861-3) 
Far from suggesting any anachronistic "modernity" of the author, these lines simply 
testify to the fact that violence devoid of its ludic aspect (Perceval understands neither 
play nor joke) can no longer be regarded as "beautiful"; on the other hand, its aesthetic 
potential remains unrealised if violence is not pushed to the very limit, namely the final 
defeat of one party, which may end the latter's life. Violence is therefore only beauti-
ful in so far as it is absolute, total play, for the "ultimate play" is all-absorbing. Today, 
violence has lost not only its aesthetic potential, but also its ethical justification. The 
hierarchy of the Idea having been done away with, violence can no longer be "good", 
for there is no universally recognised aim which could justify violence as its function. 
The state has won the monopoly of "licit violence" (Kaeuper 304), the aim of which 
is to establish and to preserve social order. Such an aim is based on convention rather 
than on belief, which makes state violence too impersonal to let it acquire any "ethical" 
or "aesthetic" dimensions. Today, violence is ugly, bad and serious. Playing is neither 
really beautiful, nor good, nor serious. In the Middle Ages, ludic violence was good and 
beautiful, serious because violent and ludic because playful. Violence was an organic tie 
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relating play to life and securing social cohesion in terms of a dynamic hierarchy which 
was sustained by the dominating and all-pervasive force of the Idea. 
The Joie de la Cour episode is not exactly the epilogue to Chretien's story but 
it epitomises all that has been said on violence so far. This adventure is the chivalric 
"Grand Prix", the most demanding and perilous task which the hero has to come to 
grips with, in order to be elevated, if he wins, to a quasi-divinity, or, if he loses, in order 
for just his head to be elevated on a stick. Joie de la Cour may call to mind the Celtic 
"other world", the judeo-christian Garden of Eden (after the Fall) or some other locus 
(more or less) amoenus: in the present context, for Mabonagrain as well as finally for 
Erec, it is a locus communis conveying the pseudo-eternity and self-sufficiency typi-
cal of the champion, particularly when he is being considered from the perspective of 
those who themselves covet his laurels. Were the Olympic champions not regarded by 
the Greeks as demigods? 
Joie de la Cour is therefore the ultimate proof of the fact that violence constitutes 
the very principle of social dynamics, the basic means for settling human relations and 
organising life in common. Its ludic dimension, however, at least in Chretien' s romances, 
imposes rules on violence, preventing it from degenerating into savagery: it has already 
been pointed out that a knight does not kill women and children, as did the barbarians of 
a pre-chivalric era and as the barbarians of the post-chivalric era are still very keen on 
doing. Inside the rules and regulations of the game, the violence in Chretien's romances 
nevertheless keeps its brutal and absolute character. It would perhaps be oversimplifying 
to say that play is the civilising principle of any given society (Huizinga). Very likely, 
violence precedes the ludic aspect of human existence. However, it seems that the brutal 
drive to "possess", and violence as its means, could not in themselves satisfy human 
beings, who needed obstacles to their desire: they needed play. Before springing up as 
a social reality, play existed as a need. It can be said, technically, that the function cre-
ated its vehicle, but what really matters is to realise that man sets himself apart from 
beasts the very moment he becomes aware of the need to put obstacles between desire 
and its fulfilment, thus limiting cupiditas and violence as its function. Insofar as man 
remains violent, he will remain an animal. Insofar as he accepts that he cannot be ful-
filled by mere violence but needs to restrain it by play, he will be human. And the day 
he renounces violence completely, he will become an angel. 
University of Ljubljana, Slovenia 
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