Descriptive Technique in
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
by Alain Renoir
Literary scholars and critics are agreed that Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
deserves a place of honor among the great works of mediaeval literature.
Some seventy years ago, Gaston Paris labelled it “the jewel of English literature
during the Middle Ages”; George Lyman Kittredge has called it “a very
distinguished piece of work”; and Femand Mossé has praised it as nothing
less than “the masterpiece of alliterative poetry.” The opinion of our age is
perhaps best summed up by Albert C. Baugh when he simply refers to the
poem as “the finest Arthurian romance in English.” In general, modem critics
agree with Bernhard ten Brink that its author “knows well how to hold our
attention.”
Those who have concerned themselves with the means whereby the reader’s
attention is aroused and maintained have generally turned to the extraordinary
vividness which permeates the work from beginning to end. For instance, Emile
Pons assures us that “Sir Gawayne and the Green Knyght is not only the most
beautiful Arthurian poem in English but one of the most vivid works of
Arthurian literature of all countries and of all times.” He believes that this
quality is due in large part to the poet’s psychological insight: “In faet,” he
writes “there is no literary production, including that of Chaucer . . . which
brings the fourteenth century nearer to us . . . by means of a richly equipped
psychology . . .” On the other hand, Francis Berry, in a discussion of Gawain’s
quest for the Green Knight, accounts for that vividness with the observation
that “the experience is actualized in the muscular images and rhythm, in the
grasp of concrete particulars.”
Every reader of the poem will agree with both of the views expressed
above, for Sir Gawain and the Green Knight owes its compelling vividness
equally to its author’s psychological insight into the nature of the experiences
he describes and to his flair for significant details. My purpose here is to argue
that along with the qualities just noted, our poem is indebted for much of its
Descriptive Technique in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
vividness to the presence of a third element: the poet’s use of a peculiar 127
descriptive technique whereby the details selected for inclusion are set off in
the most psychologically effective relation to the total picture presented to
the reader. The nature of this technique may best be understood in reference
to Erich Auerbach’s account of the principal differences between the Homeric
and Biblical styles. According to Auerbach, “it would be difficult. . . to imagine styles more contrasted than those of these two . . . texts. On the one
hand, externalized, uniformly illuminated phenomena, at a definite time and
in a definite place, connected together without lacunae in a perpetual foreground; thoughts and feeling completely expressed; events taking place in
leisurely fashion and with very little of suspense. On the other hand, the
externalization of only so much of the phenomena as is necessary for the
purpose of the narrative, all else left in obscurity; the decisive points of the
narrative alone are emphasized, what lies between is nonexistent; time and
place are undefined and call for interpretation . . If, as Auerbach argues, the
style of Homer be characterized by the uniform illumination of the scene, and
that of the Bible by the selective illumination of a few immediately relevant
details only, then the style of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight may be described as a composite of the two. The technique of our poet is to draw a
single detail out of a uniformly illuminated scene which is then allowed to
fade out in obscurity and of which we may be given an occasional dim glimpse
at psychologically appropriate moments. The twentieth century is thoroughly
familiar with this device. In effect, it is that most commonly associated with
the cinematograph, where the camera may at will focus either upon the whole
scene or upon a single detail, while illumination may be used so as to keep
the audience aware of the background against which the action takes place.
We must note that the device is primarily concerned with the utilization of
space. Whether that space be a theatre’s screen or a reader’s mind, its size
remains constant during the projection of the film or the reading of the poem,
respectively. The importance assum ed by a given detail depends largely upon
the portion of that space it occupies; it may be diminished or increased by
changing the proportion accordingly: the greater the magnitude of the picture
before us, the less the importance of the individual detail.
The passage where Gawain beheads the Green Knight is clearly illustrative
of the technique discussed here. We recall how the semi-gigantic green man
has entered King Arthur’s hall at Camelot and interrupted the New Year
festivities to challenge any willing knight to beheading him on the spot in
exchange for a return blow a year and a day later. Arthur has accepted the
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128 challenge, but Gawain claims the undertaking for himself on the ground that
a king ought not to risk his life recklessly. Now the decision to grant Gawain
his request rests with the barons, who immediately hold a brief consultation:
Ryche togeder con roun,
And syj?en J?ay redden alle same
To ryd J?e kyng wyth croun,
And gif Gawan \>q game.
(362-5)
Considered in context, this is a uniformly illuminated scene. Indeed, the greater
part of the preceding 361 lines has been devoted to descriptions, both general
and particular, which allow us to visualize with equal clarity every detail of
the entire scene. We know that, with the exception of Arthur, Gawain, and
the Green Knight, the company is sitting at table but has not yet begun the
first course (133). We know the names of the most important knights there,
as well as their places at the table (107-13). We even know the nature of the
food and beverages served, the number of dishes available to each guest, and
the very metal of which the plates and platters are made (116-29). Thus, the
lines mentioning the barons’ consultation create a picture as uniformly illu­
minated as any in the Homeric poems. Furthermore, they create a picture of
immense magnitude, for the reader’s imagination is made to sweep for an
instant over the entirety of the festively crowded great hall at Camelot.
With the next line, however, this general picture suddenly vanishes into
obscurity, and our field of vision is considerably narrowed when the poet
focuses first upon Arthur and Gawain alone, and then upon Gawain and the
Green Knight as they formulate the terms of their bargain. We now proceed
to the description of the beheading proper, where the technique we have been
discussing is pushed to its absolute extreme. For the sake of clarity, that
description is printed here so as to indicate divisions relevant to the subsequent
argument:
The grene kny3t vpon grounde grayj>ely hym dresses,
A littel lut with J?e hede, £>e lere he discouere3,
His longe louelych lokke3 he !ayd ouer his croun,
Let the naked nec to ]?e note shewe.
Gauan gripped to his ax, and gederes hit on hy3t,
P e kay fot on ]?e fold he before sette,
Let hit doun ly3tly ly3t on J>e naked,
P at J>e scharp of J?e schalk schyndered j?e bones,
And schrank ]?ur3 J>e schyire grece, and scade hit in twynne,
P at f>e bit of J?e broun stel bot on J?e grounde.
Descriptive Technique in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
P e fayre hede fro ]?e halce hit to J?e er]?e.
p at fele hit foyned wyth her fete, J?ere hit forth roled.
(417-28)
We see at a glance that the passage quoted is divided into three clearly distinct
but thematically related sections: the first of these (417-20) shows the Green
Knight preparing himself for the blow; the second (421-6) shows the actual
delivery of the blow; the third (427-8) shows the head tumbling down as a
result of the blow. We also note that the first two sections follow similar
patterns as they progressively narrow their respective fields of vision from
a whole man down to a few inches; on the other hand, the third section
precisely reverses the process.
These pattems deserve closer examination. The first section devotes four
lines to what could be told in one, but the result is that each line brings the
reader visually and emotionally closer to the climax. Exactly as if the action
were taking place on a screen before us, the field of vision is progressively
narrowed from the entire Green Knight, to his head, and eventually to his
neck alone. It is significant that we are made to anticipate that last picture
two lines before the word “neck” actually appears on the page. In mentioning
the “lere” (418) and showing the Green Knight gathering his long hair upon
his head (419), the poet accomplishes far more than he would with a straightforward description, for he forces us to visualize both the neck and the fate
that awaits it. From the point of view of the reader, the actual mention of
the neck, when it finally appears in the last line of the section (420), has all
the emotional impact of a first-rate cinematographic close-up: everything
else - the great hall, the barons, King Arthur, Gawain, even the Green Knight has faded out of the picture; only the fated green neck stands out of the obscu­
rity, in sharp focus and clearly illuminated.
As the first section began with a picture of the entire Green Knight, the
second section begins with one of the entire Gawain. But note the intensity
therein: we have just been concentrating on the very point where the ax will
strike, and now we suddenly see that “Gauan gripped to his ax and gederes
hit on hy3t’ (421). Nor is the superb picture a mere flash; the poet gives it
time to gather emotional momentum as he allows Gawain a line to bring
forward and steady “J?e kay fot on J?e folde” (422). Obviously, the most dramatically relevant object before us is the ax; and it is upon it that the field
of vision is narrowed, in the next line, as we follow its swift downwards motion
and see it touch the bared green flesh. At this point, the field of vision becomes
even smaller, so that the only image before us is the very “scharp” of the
129
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130 blade as it irresistibly euts its way through the back-bone and the flesh beneath
(424-25). Students of the cinematograph will recall that Bunuel used precisely
the same visual device in the Andalusian Dog, when he covered the screen
with a razor blade cutting its way through an eyeball. The coincidence is significant, for the Andalusian Dog has often been regarded as an attempt to use
the cinematographic medium for purely einematographic ends. To return to
our text, we should consider it a sign of the poet’s narrative genius that he
does not immediately show us the head rolling off the shoulders, as a less
gifted writer would probably have done. Instead, he keeps the focus sharply
on the edge of the blade, which he follows through the neck and down to the
floor into which it sinks. In so doing, he contributes in three ways to the
effectiveness of his narrative: (1) he not only impresses upon us the terrific
force of the blow, but he makes it a part of our immediate visual experience;
(2) he gains verisimilitude, for the law of inertia would prevent the head from
falling instantaneously; (3) he avoids the stylistically awkward shift in point
of view which would necessarily result from his abandoning in mid-course the
object he has been closely following since the beginning of the section. To
these three contributions, one may wish to add a fourth, less obvious one: the
uninterrupted arc of a circle described by the swinging ax is aesthetically very
felicitous and gives the decapitation a stylized quality which it might otherwise
lack. Nor is this feature like ly to prove accidental, for our poet reveals a
constant concern with pictorial beauty. With the possible exception of Morgan
the Fay, everyone and everything in the poem is beautiful. The Green Knight
himself is beautiful (137-95), terrifying though he be.
As the opening line of the second section gained effectiveness from its
proximity to the last line of the first, so the entire third section benefits from
the last image in the second. The reader who has followed the beheading blow
to its logical conclusion has had time to gather his wits so as to imagine the
details that follow. As has already been suggested, the third section reverses
the visual pattern discussed in regard to the first and second sections; it enlarges the field of vision instead of narrowing it. At first the poet centers upon
the falling head (427), thus merely shifting from one small obiect - the ax - to
another. With the next line, however, he enlarges the field of vision so as to
include not only the severed head, but also the feet that kick it away as it
rolls on the floor. This final image is particularly effective. On the one hand,
the picture of the feet desperately kicking away the loathsome object renders
the barons’ horror far more realistic than any account of their feelings could
ever hope to do. On the other hand, it brings the temporarily forgotten back-
Descriptive Technique in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
ground back into our ken. To be sure, the illumination is dim, but it is
sufficient to impress upon us the faet that the action we have just witnessed
has taken place in a crowded hall where it has interrupted a New Year celebration. Furthermore, the reaction of the barons who have just returned into
the picture is precisely the same as ours, so that we are no longer mere spectators; we are, in effect, emotionally drawn into the picture ourselves for a brief
instant.
In short, the decapitation scene in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight consists of a series of pictures organized so as to emphasize the most strikingly
suggestive details. Anyone at all familiar with the technical aspects of the
cinematograph will realize that the organization of these pictures may be expressed in the terms of the cameraman’s work without making a single altera­
tion. In order, we have (1) a general, uniformly illuminated view of the entire
cast and setting (the barons’ consultation); (2) a series of individual pictures
of the principal protagonists (Arthur, Gawain, the Green Knight); (3) a pro­
gressive close-up of the most significant detail on the object of the decapita­
tion (the Green Knight’s neck); (4) a progressive close-up of the most signifi­
cant detail on the agent of the decapitation (the edge of the blade); and (5)
an enlarging view of the result of the decapitation (the head rolling down) with
inclusion of details reminiscent of the general view at the beginning of the
scene (the feet kicking the head). It is significant that the reader’s emotional
reaction to the episode is the result of an entirely visual experience. From the
line where the Green Knight prepares himself for the trial to the line where
his head rolls on the floor, the poet neither glosses the action nor allows his
protagonists to vent their feelings.
The technique discussed above is found elsewhere in the poem as well. In
particular, the well-known episode of the hunting of the boar lends itself to
the very same analysis as the beheading of the Green Knight. Flere, the frame
narrows swiftly from a general view of the boar at bay surrounded by dogs
and men (1450) to a close-up of the very point of an arrow breaking itself
upon his hide (1459). Throughout the poem, one detects a constant striving
for what is in effect the primary concern of the cinematograph: the effective
use of both space and motion. We find this concern clearly exemplified in
Gawain’s ride through a weirdly desolate forest of gigantic oaks (740) and in
his first sight of Bercilak’s castle, seen through the very same branches (765)
which we have so often found on either side of the cinematographic screen
under similar circumstances. The extent of that concern may be inferred from
a passage in what is perhaps the most familiar episode of the poem: Gawain’s
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third temptation by Bercilak’s wife. Bent upon love-making, the lovely lady
enters the room where the knight is asleep. But she does not immediately
wake him up. Instead, she goes to the window, opens it, and stands there
very lightly clad and perfectly framed in the sunlight, for Gawain —and the
reader - to look at from the comparative darkness of the room (1740). It is
significant that the comparison of relevant passages in the poem and in the
analogues suggested by Sir Frederic Madden, Martha Carey Thomas, George
Lyman Kittredge, and others likewise suggests a strong concern with the visual
element on the part of the Gawain poet.
Obviously, one will find in other works isolated instances of the descriptive
technique which I have termed “cinematographic,” but one is unlikely to find
it used anywhere with the same consistency. A remotely similar claim has been
made by Joseph Frank for Flaubert’s Madame Bovary, but a consideration of
the two works merely emphasizes the extent to which the technique in question
is used in Sir Gawain.
In conclusion, the analogy of the cinematograph allows us an insight into
a hitherto neglected aspect of descriptive technique in Sir Gawain and the
Green Knight. The very consistency with which that technique is used suggests
in the Gawain poet an exceptionally fine sense of space distribution as well
as an unmatched talent for transferring a visual experience into a poetic
utterance. Indeed, the successful handling of a device which seems mere matter
of course to an age familiar with the visual and animated medium of the
cinematograph, represents a singular achievement when executed verbally by
a poet whose only example was his mind’s eye.1
1. Quotations from Sir Gawain and the Green Knight are from the edition by J. R. R.
Tolkien and E. V. Gordon (Oxford: 1930). Other quotations and specific references
are to the follow ing texts, listed in the order in which they appear my text: Gaston
Paris, Histoire Littéraire de la France (Paris: 1888), X X X , 73; G eorge Lyman Kitt­
redge, A Study of Gawain and the Green Knight (Cambridge, Mass: 1916), p. 3;
Fernand M ossé, M anuel de l’Anglais du M oyen Age: M oyen Anglais (Paris: 1949),
I, 268; Albert C. Baugh, A Literary History of England (New York: 1948), p. 236;
Bernhard ten Brink, H istory of English Literature, trans. H. M. Kennedy (N ew York:
1899), I, 347; Emile Pons, Sire Gauvain et le Chevalier Vert (Paris: 1936), p. 15;
Francis Berry, “Sir G awayne and the Grene Knight”, in The Age of Chancer, ed.
Boris Ford (London: 1954), p. 149; Eric Auerbach, Mimesis, trans. Willard Trask
(New York: 1957), p. 9; Joseph Frank, “Spatial Forms in Modern Literature”.
Sewanee Review, Spring, Summer, and Autumn, 1945.