Abstract

The much-commented prologue of Jean Renart's Roman de la Rose is a rich source for literary speculation, and it is unlikely that successive generations of critics will ever exhaust its many interpretive possibilities. Jean himself, active in the first two decades of the thirteenth century, remains an enigmatic figure: critical agreement makes him the author of three works, the Lai de l'Ombre, in which he names himself ; the Roman de l'Escoufle, attributed to him on account of allusions to the first work and stylistic similarities; and, lastly, what is now most commonly called the Roman de la Rose. Jean emerges playfully from within the lines of his works: humor and ingenuity appear as his trademarks, and are more revealing of his character than the one extant reference to his name. The following analysis explores but one small aspect of Jean's creativity and narrative engin. Beginning with a reading of the prologue, and a consideration of the status of lyric insertions in the romance, I will contend that the amount of clothing exchanged in the Roman de la Rose and the extraordinary concentration on it render this work highly unusual and that it has potential as a metaphor for the intricate textual exchange inherent in the circulation of poetry. In short, a matrix of imagery concerned with fabric and clothing highlights the status of lyric insertions in the text. The argument will be that the exchange of clothing in the romance echoes the circulation of song: robes, mantels, and tunics are the material correlatives of the various kinds of song that adorn the text aurally as the clothes do visually. While it might seem improbable at first, Jean's prologue plants the idea with his analogy of textual composition to cloth production