By Heather Fabritze ’25

Majors: English and Communications & Media Studies; Minor: Journalism, Editing, & Publishing

Contributor Biography: Heather is a junior double majoring in English and communications. She currently works as the News Co-Editor for the campus newspaper The Elm, as well as serving as the Honor Board Chair and a peer mentor. She hopes to pursue journalism and marketing opportunities in the future.

Brief Description: The protagonist of Chrétien de Troyes’ medieval tale, “Perceval, the Story of the Grail,” deviates from the conventional knightly standard in the Arthurian French tradition. This essay explores his status as a complex and morally grey figure who stands apart from the Round Table, calling into question the authenticity of their honor.

The following was written for ENG 302: Arthurian Literature

Tales in the Arthurian tradition often follow a similar structure to one another: the advent of a quest, the journey to undertake it, the saving of a damsel or two, and a celebratory feast at Camelot. It is rare that the knights of the Round Table diverge from this formula. Chrétien de Troyes’ Arthurian legend, “Perceval, the Story of the Grail,” is one of the exceptions, following an altered narrative structure. Arthurian scholar Norris J. Lacy classifies it as a Bildungsroman—a genre that follows a naive lead who gradually becomes familiarized with the conventions of their society (Lacy 100). Struggles they face along their journey often result in comic situations and abject failure, but by the end they have achieved a level of moral growth that is reminiscent of the modern coming of age. This level of development is not often seen in the Arthurian tradition. Characters will have moments of depth but remain relatively static and within the boundary of their assigned roles. They also generally fall into the black and white binary of honorable versus dishonorable. An exception to this rule, the titular character of Chrétien’s tale, Perceval, is a complex and morally gray figure. His unconventional nature contrasts the stereotypical values associated with Arthur’s court, calling into question their effectiveness, purity, and authenticity.

Part of Perceval’s uniqueness in the context of the Arthurian tradition comes from his origin story. Unlike the other Round Table knights, he was not raised with their courtly values and did not spend most of his life preparing to become one. He had never even seen a knight because his mother and the harrowers had “sought to keep him” from “learning of their ways” (Troyes 385). A particular emphasis is placed on his ignorance of their code. He completely misunderstands what they are, their values, and the logistics of knighthood due to his lack of education. Perceval’s naiveté is demonstrated when he tries to bring his three javelins with him but is only allowed one because they are not considered courtly. He has no technical knowledge of lances, swords, or other essential knightly weapons, and King Arthur astutely states later that Perceval does not even know how to draw a sword (Troyes 397). His lack of comprehension extends past the practical elements and into his demeanor, as well. The knights in the heath claim that Perceval “doesn’t know his manners” because he refuses to answer their rather straightforward questions (Troyes 384). Similarly, the damosel in the tent firmly states that Perceval is “no knight” because he is “uncouth, base, and naive” (Troyes 391). She frames his lack of courtly instruction—and misunderstanding of his mother’s advice—as preventing him from becoming a true knight. King Arthur’s Round Table, by contrast, answers Perceval’s inane questions immediately, despite his lack of manners. Yonet the Squire, who the narration considers “very courteous,” also responds (Troyes 392). The story equates the idea of answering questions when asked as being one of the first formal rules of the knightly code. Perceval’s unawareness of this unspoken guideline demonstrates how little he has been taught. Critics often consider Chrétien’s heroes to be “good and upright, but flawed individuals,” but Perceval takes this statement even farther (Lacy 6). His character stands directly against the code that comes to other Arthurian characters easily, making him distinct in the existing tradition.

The remainder of Chrétien’s unfinished tale is spent rectifying Perceval’s naiveté. He gradually learns the conventions of being a chevalier, attempts to perfectly model himself after them, and fails in spectacular and often offensive fashion. His first interaction with the damosel in the tent ends in him dishonoring her. In “his ignorance,” Perceval repeatedly kisses her and petulantly steals her ring because his mother “instructed [him] to” (Troyes 389). He blindly follows the code of respecting women with little thought given to the complexities of the situation or how his actions may appear. He similarly refuses to dismount from his horse, even at Arthur’s request, because the knights from the heath did not (Troyes 393). He robotically models himself after them and disregards the negative social consequences of disobeying his king. He later greets Gornemant exactly as a knight should, but undermines his success by revealing that he only knew to do so because of his mother’s teachings (Troyes 398). In response, Gornemant chastises him. No knight would ever respect a man who admits that he only knows the code because of a woman. Once again, Perceval attempts to model himself after the court but fails in his execution. He also takes Gornemant’s advice to not talk a great amount, but in doing so, refuses to start important conversations. Perceval needed to ask about the bleeding lance and Holy Grail to save the Fisher King—but his narration reveals that he did not want to be considered “uncouth,” so he remained silent (Troyes 420). His gut instinct to ask goes against the rules of the knightly code, which require him to be polite, but if not for his perfect adherence to it he would have succeeded. It is a recurring pattern throughout the narrative that it is Perceval’s precise replication of the courtly code without an actual understanding of his actions that seems to result in his failures as a knight, which is not a trait emblematic of a traditional Arthurian character.

Perceval’s unique misunderstanding of the purpose behind knighthood continuously harms his desperate attempts to learn the conventions of the court. When he first meets the group in the heath, he decides that he wants to be just like them, “so shining and so well formed” (Troyes 383). He notices their appearances first, and the Red Knight’s “beautiful” and “newly made” armor also captures his attention in their initial interaction (Troyes 392). Perceval aspires to the image of the knights’ strength, beauty, and intimidation. He equates them to angels born with heavenly traits and decides that he must “worship” and honor them (Troyes 383). Perceval views these knights as belonging to a holy level above humanity, and so when he himself becomes a knight, he assumes that everyone else must have a similar vision of him. While the other knights politely question Perceval despite him being a simple Welshman, he harshly orders the charcoal-burner to answer his questions by derogatorily addressing him as “peasant” (Troyes 381). Unlike the honorable knights of the Round Table, Perceval’s failures do not come from the conflicts of the narrative around him. His errors are entirely the fault of his own “naiveté” and “ignorance” of the courtly code and the “sin” that results from his more morally gray choices (Lacy 26).

Perceval’s unique and complex character possesses a selfish ambition that is not present in the traditional hero figure of the Arthurian tradition. His motivations are self-centered for most of the narrative, with particular focus on his ever-consuming goal of becoming a knight. The moment he learns of the knighthood, he pays “scarcely any attention to what his mother” has to say, stating: “‘I don’t understand your words, but I would gladly go to the king who makes knights; and I will go, no matter what’” (Troyes 387). As he departs for court, his mother falls in a death faint, but he merely whips around on his horse and leaves. His relentless pursuit of knighthood over the concern he should be dedicating to his mother is a sin that will haunt him. He expresses the same disinterest toward Arthur in just a few pages, not “giv[ing] a fig for anything the king told him” about his woes (Troyes 393). Perceval cuts off his rant, commanding: “‘Make me a knight, sir king…for I wish to be on my way’” (Troyes 393). He does not plan to remain in Camelot to defend his monarchs, blinded by his desire for the armor of the Red Knight. His own vain, shallow desires matter more to him than the conventions of the court that he now belongs to. He goes against his knightly duty to women when he ignores Blancheflor’s pleas to not fight Clamadeu, instead claiming that there is “nothing in this world” to “deter” him from the fight (Troyes 413). Even the code that requires him to honor the wishes of women cannot shake Perceval’s obsession with the concept of the chivalric knight who goes into battle against evil-doers. All that has to be done is to suggest to him, “‘this is what knights do’ or that ‘this is a way to win fame’” and he will undergo the challenge (Lacy 63). He requires “no persuading when he has a chance to play at chivalry” (Lacy 63). While certain failures of Perceval come as a result of his ignorance and naiveté regarding the code, others occur simply because he is more motivated by his own self-interests than the needs of others. Multiple times, he displays an “irresponsible refusal to let anything deter him from becoming a knight, seeking adventure, and following the physical code of knighthood” (Lacy 107-108). His main focus later shifts from his desperate attempts at achieving knighthood to his desire to return home. Chrétien narrates that Perceval could have both Blancheflor and her land if he wishes to, but his thoughts are once again consumed by another self-inspired goal. He is “intent” on seeing his mother again “more than anything else” (Troyes 417). His selfishness in this section lies not in seeking honor and praise above all else, but in ignoring the wishes of the lady Blancheflor to find his mother and assuage his guilt for having “sinned against” her (Troyes 425). While one could argue that returning home is the morally correct action to take by modern conventions, it demonstrates that Perceval’s internal allegiance is more to his own desires than what the knightly code argues he should do.

When Perceval does begin to perfectly replicate the concept of a knight, it is not just understanding the code that he struggles with, but also finding the selfless motivation that is attributed to the Round Table. Chrétien establishes in the opening of the narrative that knighthood does not matter if it is pursued for immoral reasons: “Charity, which does not boast of its good deeds, but hides them, so that only He whose name is God and Charity knows of them” (Troyes 381). Some lenience may be awarded to those who struggle with following this commandment, though. The nature of how knights grow in reputation conflicts with the morals that are associated with the code of rules. Norris J. Lacy describes this dichotomy in his book: “…feats of prowess, bringing the knight renown and reputation, should have as their legitimate justification the protection and defense of others, but now such defense serves to illustrate the knight’s prowess and increase his renown” (3). Even the code itself, while theoretically “directed away from itself, toward others,” has actually grown to be “self-centered and self-serving” (Lacy 3). According to Chrétien, true knights go on quests due to genuine concern for the greater good, but it is difficult to accomplish this task when the very figure of the knight is one of legend and acclaim. Perceval defeats the Red Knight at the beginning of the narrative, but it is only so he can finally possess the armor he has been coveting after—not because he is “coming on the king’s behalf” (Troyes 394). His knightly actions are not done out of gratitude to Arthur but as a result of his selfish desire. Later in the narrative, his immediate inclination when he is victorious over Anguingueron is that there should “be no question of mercy” (Troyes 409). The sole reason Perceval does not kill him is because he remembers Gornemant’s advice which suggested otherwise. Are Perceval’s actions here actually honorable then, if he internally desired one choice and only made the other based on what he objectively knows a knight should be? He grants mercy as the code requires, but from an ethical standpoint, he has learned nothing. His attempt to remedy his guilt for failing the Fisher King is to seek a quest with the intention of not abandoning it “for any hardship” (Troyes 439). While honorable in action, his desire to do so does not come from a true place of knightliness. Rather, it is an attempt to reverse the sin that was ascribed to him. His larger failure of the Fisher King also “corresponds to the failure of the chivalric code if it is not at the service of an unselfish ideal” (Lacy 64). While Perceval betrays the code when he refuses to ask questions, it is merely because he fears being viewed as uncouth, not because he truly believes in the meaning of the code. Even by this point in the narrative, he does not understand that “chivalric adventure is meaningless unless its purpose is to serve others; chivalry for its own sake is vain” (Lacy 108). Perceval certainly grows throughout the tale in the honorable nature of his actions, but his lack of selfless motivations results in him remaining a morally gray character.

While Perceval’s complex and ethically conflicted character is unable to match the pure and chivalric traits of the court, his more realistic nature, at times, actually makes the classic characters appear inauthentic by comparison. His socially inept demeanor in particular highlights elements of courtly tradition that are pointless. Lances and swords are considered a foundational element of a chevalier, but Perceval bluntly points out that a javelin is more lethal (Troyes 383). According to Gornemant, the sword is what gives a man the order of knighthood, but Perceval’s socially unaware honesty confronts the fact that there are more effective weapons to use (Troyes 402). His less-than-polite demeanor also highlights the lack of agency in Arthur’s kingship. In this version of the tradition, Arthur is a depressed, solemn, and one-note version of himself. The narration describes him as dejected and silent, even when surrounded by his Round Table (Troyes 392). The cause of his pessimistic outlook was the Red Knight lifting his cup “so insolently” that he spilled wine on Guinevere—Arthur genuinely fears that she will not return from her chambers alive (Troyes 393). Perceval, much like the reader, is disappointed with the king he finds: “‘This king never made a knight! How could he make knights if you can’t get a word out of him?’” (Troyes 392). Perceval is the only character who is willing to call out Arthur’s dramatic pouting and his lack of inaction. Why does the legendary King Arthur wait for his knights and not pursue the Red Knight himself? His unwillingness to defend his wife should be a blatant breach of the chivalric code. The Knights of the Round Table present in this first court scene do not fare much better. They agree with the general consensus that Perceval is not at all wise but are comforted by the fact that he is at least “handsome and noble” (393). Their reasoning for allowing him to join the Round Table is identical to Perceval’s conception of knighthood. The narrative frames his perspective as incorrect throughout the tale, yet here, coming from the mouths of Arthur’s supposedly chivalric knights, it is suddenly allowable. The legendary court of the Round Table should not be sharing in Perceval’s shallow and vapid idea of what a knight is, when it is this mistaken belief that requires him to enter a narrative-long character arc in the first place.

Perceval’s naive characterization and the format of the story as a whole also highlight how detached the code of chivalry becomes over the course of the Arthurian tradition. In both the minds of Perceval and the other characters, the concept of knighthood can be “reduced” to a “series of rules” which can be memorized and repeated—glory and achievement will come later, as long as one follows the code (Lacy 3). The transactional manner in which the title of a knight can be achieved “illustrate[s] just how far chivalry has strayed from its theoretical function and purpose” (Lacy 3). If Perceval can learn the entire concept of knighthood from a simple 12-step program, then is there any genuine authenticity to the morality and honor of a knight? Quite a few of Perceval’s actions that go against the code, including his instinct to find his mother and question the Fisher King, are framed as being more correct in the long run. Any other Arthurian knight would have followed courtly conventions and prioritized Blancheflor’s request, choosing to remain with her. Perceval pursues an admittedly more self-focused path, though, by leaving to track down his mother. Putting his concern for his family ahead of romance would be the correct choice by modern standards. Perceval’s natural impulse in the Fisher King’s castle is to ask what the grail and lance are before he departs (Troyes 421). He pushes the instinct down in his “desire to act in a manner benefiting a knight,” but is chastised regardless for abiding by the rules of the code and keeping silent (Lacy 5; Troyes 438). Perceval neglecting his sometimes more correct and ethical instincts “in favor of what he considers ‘proper’ behavior” displays exactly how the Arthurian code “lacks meaning and efficacy in itself” (Lacy 5). While honorable on the outside, his lackluster attempts to rectify the mistakes that he can control do not come from a meaningful place of knightliness either. They come, instead, from desperate attempts to make up for his so-called sin. To overcome the moral and ethical trap of the chivalric code, he must learn to replace it with “individual and personal acts of charity” which support higher ideals than can be found in Camelot (Lacy 17-18). By developing as a character—not in exact accordance with the artificially constructed chivalric code, but with a genuine idea of what makes a person good—Perceval will find himself still unique in the Arthurian tradition, even aside from his unconventional gray morality.

In writing “Perceval, the Story of the Grail,” Chrétien de Troyes created a character that was different from those previously seen in the legend of the Round Table. Perceval, unlike the other traditional knights, is complex and morally gray due to his naiveté, bluntness, misunderstanding of knighthood, and often self-centered motivations. He gradually grows throughout the tale to understand the conventions of his environment but still lacks the stereotypical honor attributed to the court. His unnatural honesty and selfishness, though, contrast with the manner and actions of the Round Table, demonstrating the ways that they could be considered inauthentic. The chivalric code which is heralded throughout is nothing more than a derived set of steps, which mean little in the grand scheme of true knighthood and Perceval’s own moral journey.

Works Cited

De Troyes, Chrétien. “The Story of the Grail (Perceval).” Chrétien de Troyes: Arthurian

Romances, translated by William W. Kibler, Penguin Books, 1991, pp. 381–439.

Lacy, Norris J. The Craft of Chrétien de Troyes: An Essay on Narrative Art. Brill, 1980.