The Faerie Queene, Book 1, Cantos 7-12

Today I read the conclusion of the first book.
Crazy. Crazy good. Again, the sense of it is sometimes, or even often, adopted from medieval romances with some epic embellishment from classical sources, but the expression of it is original. It's not often that Spenser falls back on stock phrases and the like that can be traced. The language, intentionally archaic, is quite lively. I'm thinking of the one stanza where the giant is jolted out of his complacency by Duessa's voice in the same way that a gunshot would catch someone's attention (13), but the way the gunshot is described, it's very aureate. It's the stanzaic equivalent of "boomstick," and yet so very evocative and vivid.

Anyway, trends I saw. There's a fight with a giant! Another fight, attempted, with Despair. And finally a fight with the dragon. In all of these, dismemberment and bleeding are quite prominent. Blood must flow. Blood must be on the ground. Blood. Blood. Blood. The fight with despair shows blood operating on a different register. The blood is now frozen in Treuisan as he tries to describe the fate of his friend Terwin, lured to killing himself with a rusty knife by Despaire. Indeed, the malady wrought by Despaire is one that seems to lie in the blood - the Redcrosse knight's doubt lies in the "troubled bloud" that sits in his face (IX.51). This blood in the next canto gets a cure - leeches and the like by Patience (23), and the drawing of blood in particular by Remorse (27). He also gets the blood letters in the bloody book held by Fidelia, and learns further about the bloody sacrifice through Charissa and the example of the City of God, Hierusalem (55). All this is in contrast to the dragon's blood in Canto 11, which is quite effusive, potentially poisonous, and black. Ridding the kingdom of Eden of this black blood is the ultimate task for the Redcrosse knight in this book, an exterior representation of his own purification. It also represents the boundaries between species of bodies. (I can't help thinking of Titus, where Aaron never bleeds. Could they prevent his bleeding in order to prevent seeing how red his blood is as well? By keeping him intact, his blood could be, well, black? It's a big stretch.) Finally, a brief note - compare the giant and the dragon. Both are huge, both bleed a lot, and both fall like mountains. Also, there's the fear of procreation with the dragon, which as noted with the lamia monster ... unnatural procreation is common here.

As I've mentioned, the turn in Canto 10 to the spiritual hospital run by Caelia is a little odd. It's the second time we enter an extended part where the author emphasizes through allegory a spiritual lesson (Canto 4 was the house of Pride.) It preserves many of the classical spiritual divisions, as the RCK is strengthened by the three theological virtues of Faith, Hope, and Charity (in contrast to the four cardinal virtues, one of which, Temperance, structures the second Book). Faith involves a direct treatment of grace, justice, and free will. Hope involves treatment in the hospital of patience, and the aid of Amendment, Penance, Remorse, and Repentence. Then Love (Charissa), who has been absent due to her birthing a child (Jesus?), is helped by Mercy in instructing him in love and well-being. This then turns to the hermitae held by Contemplation, who talks about reaching a good end, and especially the city of God. Then the Redcrosse knight is revealed as St. George, which should be no surprise to its readers, but is to the knight, who inquires about why he has English blood, if he's Elfin? (He's an orphan.)

Ah, this reminds me. Two threads, one for now, one for later. The one for later - orphanage in these stories. The one for now - happiness. When Arthur has defeated the giant and he's talking with the Redcrosse knight (Canto 8, 9), there's mention of both the sureness of bliss and the unsureness of earthly happiness. This comes to a head when Despaire, in his stanzas, brings up as well the unsureness of earthly life as a reason for ending it soon, because as he puts it, longer life only increases one's sorrows and one's sins. Against this the hospital in Canto X works. It's the discourse on happiness and ends I find intriguing here, because I don't think that people have talked about it in such terms. It's not uncommon, sure, but I'm particularly sensitive to it given the work I've already done with Boethius in Chaucer. Oh, it'd be awesome if there were a tie between it and, say, Troilus and Criseyde.

Prince Arthur is worth some mention too. He's a Prince, before the point that he becomes a queen. He pursues the Faerie Queene as his love. He's valiant, and has a shield of diamond. When he and the Redcrosse knight trade gifts, he gives a bejeweled box that has drops of a healing liquor, and receives a Bible in golden letters. Again, all of these books circulating tempt me to focus on them too, especially the easy elision between a holy and a magic book demonstrated initially with Archimago.

Una as a guide. The way women guide actions here is quite interesting, especially the way that the manner of guidance is so easygoing. She is the one who tells him where to go, because he doesn't know. She is set by him in places to spectate while the battle goes on, and there's something important about her viewpoint. I don't know exactly what, but her spectatorship is required. For honor and worship? For telling that the tale is true? For encouragement? A little of all. I've written on this before in relation to the Tale of Sir Gareth, so I'll keep an eye on it. 

Otherwise, I'm keeping my eyes open. The book ends with RCK and Una married. RCK then leaves again, and Una stays in safety, which connects directly with the second book, where a captured Archimago (who tried to accuse RCK of being married to Fidessa/Duessa) escapes.