Yvain, or the Knight with the Lion Published May 31, 2008 Topics librivox, literature, audiobook, audio book, king arthur, arthurian, romance, yvain, chretien de troyes LibriVox recording of Yvain, or the Knight with the Lion, by Chretien de Troyes. Yvain, the Knight of the Lion is a romance by Chrétien de Troyes. It was probably written in the 1170s simultaneously with Lancelot, the Knight of the Cart, and includes several references to the action in that poem. In the poem, Yvain seeks to avenge his cousin Calogrenant who had been defeated by an otherworldly knight beside a magical storm-making fountain in the forest of Broceliande. For further information, including links to online text, reader information, RSS feeds, CD cover or other formats (if available), please go to the LibriVox catalog page for this recording. M4B audio book (123mb) There are no reviews yet. Be the first one to write a review. 01 - Section 01 02 - Section 02 03 - Section 03
04 - Section 04 05 - Section 05 06 - Section 06 07 - Section 07 08 - Section 08 09 - Section 09 The LibriVox Free Audiobook Collection Audio Books & PoetryReason for contact (required) Attach a file (optional, we only accept PDF, JPG and PNG files under 10Mb) If you are a customer and you are looking for technical assistance or you need to contact us for accounting purposes please open a ticket from your account page We use cookies to improve your user experience. For more informations click hereLess Wrong is a community blog devoted to refining the art of human rationality. Please visit our About page for more information. Introduction to Game Theory: Sequence Guide This sequence of posts is a primer on game theory intended at an introductory level. Because it is introductory, Less Wrong veterans may find some parts boring, obvious, or simplistic - although hopefully nothing is so simplistic as to be outright wrong.
Parts of this sequence draw heavily upon material from The Art of Strategy by Avinash Dixit and Barry Nalebuff, and it may in part be considered a (very favorable) review of the book accompanied by an exploration of its content. I have tried to include enough material to be useful, but not so much material that it becomes a plagiarism rather than a review (it's probably a bad idea to pick a legal fight with people who write books called The Art of Strategy.) Therefore, for the most complete and engaging presentation of this material, I highly recommend the original book. All posts will be linked from here as they go up:1. Introduction to Game Theory: Sequence Guide2. Backward Reasoning Over Decision Trees3. Nash Equilibria and Schelling Points4. Introduction to Prisoners' Dilemma5. Real World Solutions to Prisoners' Dilemmas6. Interlude for Behavioral Economics7. What Is Signaling, Really?8. Game Theory As A Dark Art Special thanks to Luke for his book recommendation and his strong encouragement to write this.
The Knight with the Lion Fl. 12th Century A.D. Online Medieval and Classical Library Release Originally written in Old French, sometime in the second half of the 12th Century A.D., by the court poet Chretien DeTroyes. Translation by W.W. Comfort, 1914. The text of this edition is based on that published as CHRETIEN DETROYES: ARTHURIAN ROMANCES, (Trans: W.W. Comfort; This text is in the PUBLIC DOMAIN in the This electronic edition was edited, proofed, and prepared by [ Preparer's Note ] Part I: Vv. 1 - Vv. Part II: Vv. 2329 - Vv. Part III: Vv. 4635 - Vv. For background information and a discussion of Chretien DeTroyes' work, see W.W. Comfort's Introduction to his translations, released in OMACL text #21: "Erec et Enide". Kibler, William W. (Ed.): "Chretien DeTroyes: The Knight with the Lion, or Yvain (Garland Library of Medieval Literature 48A, New York & London, 1985). Original text with English translation
(See Penguin Classics edition below). Cline, Ruth Harwood (Trans.): "Chretien DeTroyes: Yvain, or the Knight with the Lion" (University of Georgia Press, Athens GA, Kibler, William W. & Carleton W. Carroll (Trans.): "Chretien DeTroyes: Arthurian Romances" (Penguin Classics, London, 1991). Contains translations of "Erec et Enide" (by Carroll), "Cliges", "Yvain", "Lancelot", and DeTroyes' incomplete "Perceval" Owen, D.D.R (Trans.): "Chretien DeTroyes: Arthurian Romances" (Everyman Library, London, 1987). Contains translations of "Erec et Enide", "Cliges", "Yvain", "Lancelot", and DeTroyes' incompleteNOTE: This edition replaced W.W. Comfort's in the Everyman Library catalogue. Anonymous: "Yvain and Gawain", "Sir Percyvell of Gales", and "The Anturs of Arther" (Ed: Maldwyn Mills; NOTE: Texts are in Middle-English; "Yvain and Gawain" is a Middle-English work based almost exclusively on Chretien DeTroyes' Malory, Sir Thomas: "Le Morte D'Arthur" (Ed: Janet Cowen;
Penguin Classics, London, 1969). Here yesterday, gone today... If moving web pages involved more rental vans and heavy lifting, they wouldn't disappear so frequently. There's nothing for it but to retrace your steps. The Knight of the Lion Translated from the Old French by Burton Raffel But today love is almost Deserted, its followers fallen Away, its worshippers gone. For those who practiced Love Could truly call themselves courtiers — Love has turned into silly Stories, told by liars Who feel nothing, know nothing, all talk And empty boasts, dishonesty And vanity and windy noise. But Chrétien’s poem is far from being windy noise. He gives us a tale as antidote, a tale that is noble, generous, and honorable, about those who lived when Love was properly worshiped. He turns, once again, to Arthur’s celebrated court, and to the knight Yvain. The story of Yvain has many twists and turns, but the basic shape is simple: Yvain kills a knight in combat, and then falls in love with the man’s widow.
Needless to say, she has a motive to hate rather than love him, yet his devotion to her is irrevocable. He must therefore win her love, against her own heart. I give little away by noting that he eventually does so, though by trickery (not his own) so cunning and gentle that it seems a happy, not a monstrous, conclusion. It is easy to see how it might have fell out otherwise, for there is something truly ugly about a man seeking to wed the woman whose husband he has slain — think of David and Bathsheba, or Richard III and Lady Anne. But Chrétien wittily turns the tables on this ugliness, putting the lady into the position of power and making Yvain the conquered one: And yet a new love had hunted in his heart And completely conquered its prey. His enemy had captured his heart, He loved the creature who hatedNot suspecting a thing, The lady had avenged her lord’s death. She’d managed a greater vengeance Than anything she could have accomplished
By herself, without Love’s assistance, Who came to him so gently That it struck his heart through his eyes. A principle of Arthurian romance is that Love is imperious; when she summons, a true knight obeys, for devotion to her is one of the knight’s chief glories: Not to accept Love’s wish When Love comes, and Love asks, is more Than wicked, it is treachery. And whoever worships Love Let him listen, that a deserter from Love But I’ll always love my enemy. How could I hate her, If I wish to be loyal to Love? What Love wants, I want. This whole-hearted, child-like exuberance is, for me, part of the appeal of reading Chrétien. Unless I am badly misreading the tone, and even making allowances for an element of good-natured exaggeration, Chrétien finds, and expects his listeners to find, joy in commitment, dedication, devotion, and sincerity. We seem to be a long way from anything resembling irony or cynicism, and that is refreshing.
This reminds me of something C.S. Lewis wrote in The Discarded Image about the generally happy demeanor of medieval authors and — by inference — of medieval man. Lewis believed this disposition was rooted, in part, in their view of history and the cosmos, though both were also, not incidentally, entangled with their religion. Comparing medievals to the nineteenth-century devotees of progress, he wrote: Medieval and nineteenth century man agreed that their present was no very admirable age; not to be compared (said one) with the glory that was, not to be compared (said the other) with the glory that is still to come. The odd thing is that the first view seems to have bred on the whole a more cheerful temper. Historically as well as cosmically, medieval man stood at the foot of a stairway; looking up, he felt delight. The backward, like the upward, glance exhilarated him with a majestic spectacle, and humility was rewarded with the pleasures of admiration…There were friends, ancestors, patrons in every age.
One had one’s place, however modest, in a great succession; one need be neither proud nor lonely. This portrait of the medieval temper does not suit our caricatures of the period, but it is worth reflecting on. There is actually quite a lot to support it. Consider the earthy good humour of Chaucer, the glory of Dante, Aquinas’ clear-eyed clarity, the playful grandeur of Ockeghem and Dufay, the magnificence of the Gothic, and so on. They could express sorrow, of course, but it is noteworthy that medieval Europe never produced anything like Kafka or Beckett. Themes of despair, alienation, anxiety, meaninglessness, angst, and nihilism, which have informed a good part of our greatest contemporary literature, were far from them. In saying this, I intend no criticism of our literature: times are such that we have need to explore those themes, and would be at fault if we did not do so. But that medieval men seem not to have needed to do so, certainly not in a major way, says something good about their spiritual and emotional health.
Perhaps it really was a good time to be alive (as has been argued). Which is not to say that they were perfect. Consider Yvain, for instance: in the early part of the poem he falls well short of the knightly ideal. A principal concern of the poem is to chart his moral progress as he faces and conquers various temptations and challenges. It is here that the subtitle of the poem becomes relevant, for in the course of his adventures Yvain earns the loyalty of a fearsome lion, and this lion serves him not only as a companion, but also as a kind of moral catalyst. St. Paul says of the Holy Spirit that “He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear”, and in a similar way the lion offers aid when it is needed, never allowing Yvain to go down in defeat, but gradually allowing Yvain’s own confidence and strength (his virtus) to increase. The poem offers many charms to the reader. On the one hand, we have fantastic elements familiar from legends and fairy tales: magical rings, terrifying giants, elaborate traps and contraptions, cunning disguises.
On another hand we have Chrétien’s authorial persona, who interrupts the story here and there to offer commentary. Sometimes he dispenses pithy sayings (“Better to be silent than speak badly.” “There’s nothing difficult about fooling a fool.” (ll.2464-5)). Occasionally he wanders off the narrative trail to pursue a fleeting thought deep into the underbrush; consider this amusing example, in which a reference to Yvain both loving and hating someone causes everything to grind to a halt: How can two things So utterly unlike find Themselves at home together? Impossible, it seems to me: They could share the same roof, And if they tried living Together, they’d surely be quarreling And commotion, as soon as each Knew the other was there. And yet the house could have many Rooms, bedrooms, and galleries, And it might well be like that: I suppose Love could hide In some out-of-the-way room, and Hate Go up on balconies hung
Over highways and streets, choosing To exhibit herself in public. And on a third hand (but who’s counting?) there is quite a lot of broad comedy on offer. At one point Yvain pulls up on his trusty steed before a castle called — wait for it — the Castle of Infinite Misfortune. And what does he do? He asks for a place to sleep. When a friend counsels him against entering, he replies: I suspect there is honor And sense in your words, if only I were able to do as you say. But I’ve no idea where else I might find lodging for tonight. He has a tough time, I can tell you, getting out of that mess. Later, as the poem nears its completion, there is a climactic battle between Yvain and Gawain, both in disguise and neither aware of the other’s identity. They fight for hours, neither able to gain the advantage. Eventually, during a lull to catch their breath, they discover who they are. Throwing down their weapons, they embrace and, before King Arthur’s throne, each proceeds to lay claim to having been defeated by the other, the better to honour his friend.