An illustration for the "Song of Roland," by Simon Marmion, 15th century. An excerpt from the "Grandes Chroniques de France"; Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg, Russia. Public Domain
The 11th-century epic poem “The Song of Roland” by a poet named Turoldus engages this question. The poem is a type of traditional French narrative called a “chanson de geste” (“song of heroic deeds”). It tells of the death of Emperor Charlemagne’s nephew, Count Roland, during the Battle of Roncevaux Pass in A.D. 778. The work is loosely based on historical events, using the framework of Charlemagne’s wars as a means of exploring hierarchy, loyalty, the crusading spirit, and the conflict between good and evil.
A bronze bas-relief showing Roland's last battle at Roncevaux Pass. Francisco Javier Diaz/Shutterstock
The Historical Background
In the poem, the figure of Roland grows to legendary proportions, standing for the ideal Christian knight and vassal. The poem expresses fundamental precepts of chivalry and the feudal order. In particular, it emphasizes loyalty to one’s liege lord even to the death. For the poet of “The Song of Roland” and for his audience, the vassal’s total dedication to his lord wasn’t viewed as slavery, but rather as an ennobling privilege symbolic of spiritual realities.
The historical cornerstone of the poem are Charlemagne’s campaigns against the Saracens in Spain in the late 700s. On his return journey to the empire of the Franks, he suffered a stunning defeat: High in the Pyrenees, in the mountain pass between France and Spain, the Basques ambushed and wiped out Charlemagne’s rearguard. Count Roland was among the fallen.
Upon this historical foundation, Turoldus constructed a rich poetic edifice as towering, intricate, and manifold as a medieval cathedral, full of contrasting light and shadow and reflective of a multi-dimensional reality.
This page of the "Song of Roland," the earliest surviving work of French literature, was illuminated in 1125. It is currently located in the Bodleian Library, Oxford, England. MartinPoulter/CC BY-SA 4.0
In the poem, Charlemagne, having conquered almost all of Spain, receives word that the Saracens are ready to negotiate a surrender. He sends Lord Ganelon, Roland’s stepfather, to arrange the peace terms. But Ganelon,angry at Roland for volunteering him for the risky task, plots his revenge. He arranges for Roland to be placed in the Emperor’s rearguard and assists the Saracens in reneging on the peace terms and setting up an ambush for Roland’s company.
During the attack, Roland’s friend Oliver urges him to blow his “oliphant” horn to alert Charlemagne and the main body of the army to the rearguard’s desperate situation. Roland considers this dishonorable and fights on against overwhelming odds. When he finally blows the horn, it’s too late for him and his men. The double treachery of Ganelon and the Saracens seals Roland’s fate.
As Gerard Brault explains in “The Song of Roland: Introduction and Commentary,” “The two main story lines hinge on treachery, a notion even more abhorrent in medieval society, which was structured on the basis of solemn vows of allegiance, than it is today.”
In his retelling, Turoldus transforms the attacking Basques into Saracens and lends them demonic imagery to represent all the anti-Christian forces of the world. Roland fights not only for survival, but also, for goodness and truth against the forces of darkness. The poem develops and enlarges what historically was a skirmish at the end of an indecisive campaign into a cosmic struggle between good and evil that trenchantly affirms the medieval Christian worldview.
"Scene from the 'Song of Roland'," by Wolf von Bibra. Burg Brennhausen, Bavaria, Germany. CSvBibra/CC BY-SA 4.0
The Medieval Mindset
Central to that medieval worldview is the hierarchical paradigm applied to creation. People understood creation as a “great chain of being,” with God at the summit. Higher beings were more like God and lower ones were less like Him. Angels stood above humans, humans above animals, animals above plants, and so on. Higher beings had a degree of authority over lower ones.
Medieval human societies aimed to reflect the hierarchy inherent in the universe. Feudalism at the time of Charlemagne rested on a deeply hierarchical system of rights and obligations. As “The Age of Chivalry” states, “Charlemagne created a hierarchy of powerful nobles. As they swore fealty to the king so did lesser men render homage to the nobles.”
This network of oaths of allegiance extended down to the serfs who worked the land of a local knight or lord. “Individuals at all levels of society were bound together by vows of homage and fealty,” Gerard Braultt wrote. “The local lord offered protection in return for ownership of all the land, a percentage of the crop and domestic animals, and various services.”
As Brault’s words suggest, the relationship between lord and vassal was unequal but reciprocal. This is an important point: Each party received something from the bond of the oath. Dorothy Sayers explains in the introduction to her translation of the poem that the rite of “homage” included the enfolding of the vassal’s hands in the lord’s, followed by a mutual kiss between lord and vassal that symbolized the reciprocity of the relationship. “[Vassalage] was, at any rate in its origins, a personal bond of mutual service and protection between a lord (’seigneur') and his dependent.”
Through this ritual, the vassal pledged to serve the lord in various ways, including tithes and military service. In turn, the lord promised to protect the vassal in life and avenge him in death, to maintain justice between him and his fellow vassals, and to reward him for loyal service.
As Brault explains, this conception of feudalism and the personal relationship between lord and vassal lies at the heart of the poem. Roland is utterly dedicated to serving Charlemagne and expanding his kingdom. Moreover, Roland’s dedication ties directly to his loyalty to God. The one relationship is analogous to the other. Roland’s commitment to fighting to the death for Charlemagne melds seamlessly into his commitment to fight to the death for Christ.
In fact, it’s not entirely clear if Roland distinguishes the two in his mind. To him, all rightful human authority represents God’s authority. Human hierarchy imitates the divine. This principle helps us understand Roland’s words in stanza 79:
For our King’s sake well must we quit us here; Man for his lord should suffer great disease, Most bitter cold endure, and burning heat, His hair and skin should offer up at need. Now must we each lay on most hardily, So evil songs neer sung of us shall be. Pagans are wrong: Christians are right indeed. Evil example will never come of me.
Similarly, the Archbishop Turpin encourages the outnumbered Frankish warriors with the thought that faithful service of Charlemagne—even to the giving of their last drops of blood—will be a service to all of Christendom and will earn them a heavenly reward. “Charles left us here for this/ He is our King, well may we die for him/ To Christendom good service offering ... though you die, blest martyrs shall you live/ Thrones you shall win in the great Paradise.”
In Turoldus’s Eyes, a Martyr
While we may disagree (as Oliver does) with Roland’s decision not to blow his horn after the ambush, we must understand that in his eyes, blowing the horn for help would unnecessarily endanger his lord, undermine his duty as a faithful vassal, and cast stains of shame upon the Franks. “Never, by God ... Shall it be said by any living man/ That for pagans I took my horn in hand/ Never by me shall men reproach my clan ... Franks are good men; like vassals brave they'll stand.”
Roland’s radical allegiance to Charlemagne, and, through him, to God, even to the point of sacrificing all his blood for the sake of his king and faith, makes him a martyr in Turoldus’s eyes. Brault argues that the central meaning of the poem is that Roland’s death is an imitation of Christ’s passion.
Illustration of Roland from "The History of France," 1913. Public Domain
In the lines describing Roland’s death due to his wounds, we find some of the most beautiful poetry of the work.
Further than might a cross-bow’s arrow speed
[Roland] Goes towards Spain into a fallow-field;
Climbs on a cliff; where, under two fair trees,
Four terraces, of marble wrought, he sees
The count Roland, beneath a pine he sits;
Turning his eyes toward Spain, he begins
Remembering so many divers things.
He contemplates with joy all that he has done for king and cross.
These lines’ simple clarity renders the moment an austere image that transcends what it describes. Roland looks out from his high hill not as a man looking upon a Spanish mountain pass, but as a man gazing on the whole of earth, a man on the doorstep of death. His perspective on this world, therefore, is purified. He takes it all in. He never once turned his back on his enemies, and he dies facing them.
This is how Charlemagne finds him. Charlemagne fulfills his role as Roland’s lord by casting the thunder of war on the ambushers’ heads: He avenges Roland’s death.
God fulfills his role as lord by rewarding the services of his vassal, Roland. “God sent him down His angel cherubin/ And Saint Michael ... And by their side Saint Gabriel alit/ So the count’s soul they bare to Paradise.” This moment is both tragic and triumphant, and describes well the spirit of the whole poem. Brault writes, “Turoldus epitomizes Wisdom in his poem by “Monjoie” [the Frankish battle cry], which often suggests Joy mixed with Suffering, and “Ronceveaux,” where life viewed as a Vale of Tears, but with Joy at the End of the Journey.”
Roland’s unhesitating commitment to honor, lord, country, and faith made him a model of chivalry for centuries. Although the ideals Roland fought for are no longer widely embraced, any reader can still find inspiration in his unyielding loyalty to his beliefs and his confidence in victory even in the face of defeat.
Roland is one of those great spirits in world literature whose single-mindedness, crystalized in a moment of extraordinary valor, makes him an enthralling hero, and one who sheds light on medieval ideals.
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Walker Larson
Author
Prior to becoming a freelance journalist and culture writer, Walker Larson taught literature and history at a private academy in Wisconsin, where he resides with his wife and daughter. He holds a master's in English literature and language, and his writing has appeared in The Hemingway Review, Intellectual Takeout, and his Substack, The Hazelnut. He is also the author of two novels, "Hologram" and "Song of Spheres."