“Sir Nigel” again
Feb. 5th, 2020 12:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ndrosenI have finished reading Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sir Nigel, a historical novel taking place in the mid- fourteenth century, and centered on a young man of distinguished, although now impoverished, family, and his adventures as a squire on the road to knighthood. He has his conflicts with the greedy Cistercians at the local monastery (the book is generally anticlerical, although one priest who seems sincere and decent enough appears), makes friends with a young yeoman who serves and follows him, going to war as an archer, and meets various real people of the time, from King Edward III and Sir John Chandos to Thomas Lackland, author of “Piers Ploughman.”
Perhaps a thirteen year old would have liked it better than I did, which is not to say that I disliked it, or failed to be caught up in Nigel’s adventures; but I was too aware that valiant knights eager to worshipfully win worship by heroic feats of arms were not necessarily beloved of their peasants, or of the people caught in the middle of medieval warfare. To be fair, Conan Doyle does not hide that things could be grim for Breton peasants trapped between English garrisons, French garrisons, and local warlords, but the attitude seems to be that a gentleman of good blood and coat-armor can be forgiven a great deal, provided that he is valiant, debonair, and true to his lady.
I repeatedly found myself thinking of Barbara Tuchman’s A Distant Mirror, which may be tendentious in its own way, but is not dazzled by the glamor and valor of chivalry. Still, whatever the faults of his class and his time, Nigel has his courage, and is honorable by the standards of that time and class. Even a skeptical nineteenth century liberal like myself can root for such a hero.
Perhaps a thirteen year old would have liked it better than I did, which is not to say that I disliked it, or failed to be caught up in Nigel’s adventures; but I was too aware that valiant knights eager to worshipfully win worship by heroic feats of arms were not necessarily beloved of their peasants, or of the people caught in the middle of medieval warfare. To be fair, Conan Doyle does not hide that things could be grim for Breton peasants trapped between English garrisons, French garrisons, and local warlords, but the attitude seems to be that a gentleman of good blood and coat-armor can be forgiven a great deal, provided that he is valiant, debonair, and true to his lady.
I repeatedly found myself thinking of Barbara Tuchman’s A Distant Mirror, which may be tendentious in its own way, but is not dazzled by the glamor and valor of chivalry. Still, whatever the faults of his class and his time, Nigel has his courage, and is honorable by the standards of that time and class. Even a skeptical nineteenth century liberal like myself can root for such a hero.
