Weston Jessie Laidlay
The Legend of Sir Lancelot du Lac
Taking into consideration the construction of the poem, and the character of the contents, I think we are justified in considering the composition of Ulrich von Zatzikhoven as a collection of lais which have not yet been worked over or taken final literary shape. When the scattered Lancelot stories did this, it was under the influence of a motif foreign to the original legend, his love for Guinevere. How that came to be introduced into the legend is a matter for separate consideration, but I do not think there is room for doubt that it was this introduction which determined the final and literary form of the Lancelot story. All conflicting elements, such as the various love affairs, were rejected and only the original germ retained.
And what was this germ? Authorities will no doubt differ. Some perhaps will say it was the story of Guinevere's imprisonment and rescue, but they must remember that in the Lanzelet this is not the work of the hero. I think myself that the root of the Lancelot tale was simply a Breton lai, relating the theft of a king's son by a water fairy: this seems to be the one abiding and persistent element in the tale, all else is uncertain and shifting. Here the hero is Arthur's nephew; elsewhere he is but the son of an old ally; at one time his father is a tyrant, 'chassé' by his own people; again he is a noble king, the victim of treachery and a foreign foe. Sometimes Lancelot's mother lives to see him restored to his kingdom; sometimes she dies while he is yet in the care of the fairy, and never sees her son again. He has two cousins on the father's side, Bohort and Lionel, and a bastard half-brother Hector; he has no relations on his father's side, but is cousin to Gawain through his mother. He is Guinevere's lover; he is not Guinevere's lover. He is unmarried; he is very much married—three times at least! He has four children born in wedlock; he has but one son, the offspring of a liaison. He is the most valiant knight of Arthur's court; he is scarce worthy of mention. Among all this shifting tangle and contradiction, there is but one thing, and one only, fixed and certain, he is Lancelot du Lac. I do not see how we can avoid the conclusion that in this record of his youth we have the one fixed point of departure for all the subsequent unfoldings of romance.
Not that this story was always unvarying in its details, on the contrary we find in it marked divergences. Thus in the Lanzelet the motive of the theft is clear, the fairy desires a champion and protector for her cowardly son; the motive in the prose Lancelot is not apparent; probably it was a mere capricious fancy for a beautiful child.
And if the motive was not always clearly understood, still less so was the character of the fairy. In fact she seems to have considerably puzzled the mediæval romancers. In the first instance the story would be excessively simple, she would probably be such a water-fairy as we find in Tidorel, and Ulrich seems to have retained this idea when he calls her a Merfeine or Merminne, but as the lai gained popularity, and it became necessary to supply details as to her kingdom, etc., it would be supplemented from other legendary sources. Ulrich's own description, the land of ten thousand maidens where no man penetrates, is manifestly the Meide-land which in Diu Krône Gawain visits, and which is universally admitted to be a remembrance of the 'Isle of Women' of old Celtic tradition. It may have touched the Lancelot lai through the medium of the Gawain's story, but as a 'property' of old Celtic belief it may well have been known independently. I think it probable that this identification may explain a very curious passage in Diu Krône, where Kei reproaches Lancelot who has failed in the glove test in the following terms:
'er hât daz vil rehte erspeht,
daz iz di gotinne
verkurt an ir minne,
diu iu zôch in dem sê.'—ll. 24517-20.
Certain it is that while the queen of the 'Isle of Women' does not appear to be addicted to child-stealing, she does entice, or abduct, earthly knights to be her lovers. It is not impossible that a version of the Lancelot story, redacted by some one familiar with the real character of the kingdom, may have represented him as the queen's lover. It is also not impossible, were this the case, that the story of the imprisonment of Guinevere in the other world, a story which, as we shall presently see, must have existed at a very early date, may have led to her being confused with the queen of that kingdom, and to the transfer of Lancelot's affections from the one to the other.
The prose Lancelot version is entirely different, and far less archaic: there is no real lake, the appearance is but a mirage; men are admitted; Lancelot has not only his cousins for companions, but other knights as well. The lady herself is conceived of more as a mortal versed in enchantment than as a fairy proper. In the Suite de Merlin she is identified with the Demoiselle Chaceresse, daughter of the King of Northumberland;28 and in both these romances, the Lancelot and the Merlin Suite, she is the lover and the betrayer of Merlin. It may not be out of place to remark here that the tendency of later romances, as exhibited in the Suite and notably in Malory, is to connect the Lady of the Lake rather with Arthur than with Lancelot.
It may be asked, how did so simple a lai as we here postulate attain so great a popularity? The incidents would be few, and the characters at first probably anonymous.29 Here, I think, we may take into account a factor hitherto practically ignored, the music of the lais. As we know they were intended to be sung, and each was connected with its own melody. It would be a truism nowadays to say that the success of a song depends less upon the words than upon the music to which the words are set, and though less true of an age in which the songs of the people were also its folk-tales, yet the influence of music upon the development of popular legends is a point we do ill to ignore. It may help us to solve certain puzzles. Certain heroes of course represent what we may call the general stock-in-trade of Aryan tradition: their names vary with the lands in which their tales are told, but whether Cuchullain or Gawain, Siegfried or Perceval, the hero represents a traditional tale which antedates any special form of recital; such a tale would be assured of welcome, and practically independent of musical aid. But in the case of Lancelot we have no such prehistoric tradition, no striking parallels in early legends. Previously unknown, he leaps into popularity, as it were, at a bound. Even the most ardent adherent of Chrétien de Troyes cannot appeal to the popularity of that writer to help us with a solution, for his Lancelot poem, the Charrette, is but seldom referred to in contemporary literature. Much of Lancelot's later popularity is doubtless due to his rôle as the queen's lover; but how account for the initial popularity which caused him to be chosen for that rôle? I can only explain the phenomenon of a knight, whose very name is unknown before the middle of the twelfth century, becoming before the end of that century the leading hero of a cycle to which he was originally a stranger, by supposing that there was some special charm in the lai originally connected with him, by means of which his story took hold of the public fancy. Had that charm been in the lai itself, in word or form, then I think it would have been preserved to us. We possess more than one beautiful lai, the hero of which, originally independent of the Arthurian cycle, became by virtue of his story admitted within the magic precincts. Failing that, I think the charm must have lain in the air to which it was wedded, and which so pleased the ears of the hearers that they demanded its repetition, and lengthening, by the addition of episodes foreign to the original tale. Thus other lais, whose fate had been less happy, might for a time at least win a spurious popularity, till the 'survival of the fittest,' which operates in literature as elsewhere, discarded the weaker portions, and fixed the outline of the story in the form we know. This theory may or may not be correct, but I can suggest none other that will meet the problems of the case; and at least it has the advantage of offering an hypothesis which may be of use in other stories besides the one under discussion.
But there is another point in the discussion of Ulrich's poem which urgently demands attention. What is the connection between the Lanzelet and the Parzival of Wolfram von Eschenbach? A connection of some sort there is, and that a fairly close one. Take for instance the passage describing the hero's departure from his magic home for the world of men, a passage extending over two hundred lines (ll. 400-666). He does not know how to sit his horse, how to hold the bridle,30 or use his weapons; is ignorant of his name and birth; is called der kindische man (l. 598), der namenlôse tumbe (l. 2045), all features which irresistibly recall Perceval to our mind, but are in no way characteristic of Lancelot.31
The tourney at which Lancelot makes his first appearance at Arthur's court has been undertaken between King Lot von Johenis and Gurnemanz den fürsten wîs (l. 2630). It commences with a vesper play:
'engegen der vespereide
riten über jene heide,
dort zwêne, dâ her drî.'—ll. 2855-7.
In the Parzival, Book II., we read of the tourney before Kanvoleis that it began with a vesper play:
'von Póytóuwe Schyolarz
und Gurnemanz de Grâhárz,
die tjostierten ûf dem plân.
Sich huop diu vesperîe sân,
hie riten sehse, dort wol drî.'—ll. 295-9.
In connection with which we may note that both Chrétien and Hartmann von Aue spell the name of Gurnemanz with o, not with u, as does Wolfram. Other names, some of them peculiar to Wolfram's version, occur in the Lanzelet, such as Galagandreiss (Galogandres), also found in Hartmann's Erec though not in Chrétien; Iwân de Nonel, l. 2935 (Parzival, v. 312); Iblîs, l. 4060 (Parzival, xiii. 895). Ulrich's Iblîs is connected with the cloister jaemerlichen urbor, Wolfram's with Terra de Lâbur; Kailet, l. 6032 (Parzival, ii. 737); Maurîn, whose name in each case is similarly qualified, mit den lichten schenkeln her Maurîn, l. 3052, Mit den schœnen schenkeln Maurîn (Parzival, xiii. 1069).32 In the description of Iweret we read, einen wâfen roc fuort er und guldîn schellen dran er schein ein engel niht ein man, ll. 4428-30, which should be compared with the description of Karnachkarnanz.
'den dûhte er als ein got getân:
er'n het ê 'so lichtes niht erkant.
úfem tówe, der wâpenroc erwant.
mit guldîn schellen kleine.'—Parzival, iii. 175 et seq.
Now how are all these points of contact to be explained? Scholars are agreed in placing the date of Ulrich's poem in the opening years of the thirteenth century, therefore anterior to the Parzival. Did Wolfram borrow from Ulrich? If it were a mere question of a name here and there we might think so, but the points of contact amount to more than this. We have the characteristics of Perceval postulated of Lancelot; we have correspondence in details, even verbal identity; further, the prose Lancelot, as we shall see, presents other points of contact with Wolfram's poem in details where he differs notably from Chrétien. It is not probable that Wolfram, who never alludes to any adventures related in the Lanzelet, and to all appearance knows nothing of the hero save the Charrette adventure, should have borrowed from two such widely different versions of his story. The fact that where Lancelot appears to have borrowed from the Perceval legend, the borrowed matter is marked by characteristics special to one version of the story is, to say the least, curious. If the Lanzelet really preceded the Parzival—a philological question upon which I am not qualified to pronounce an opinion—and Ulrich, as is generally supposed, closely followed his source, only one conclusion seems possible, i.e. that that source knew, and quoted, the poem of Kiot. It is significant that in the mention of Gurnemanz he is spoken of as den fürsten wîs, which shows that to the writer he was not a mere name, but a well-known character, distinguished by the qualities which mark him in the Parzival
My own impression is, however, that Ulrich knew Wolfram's poem, or at least part of it (between the Lanzelet and the last three books of the Parzival there do not appear to be any points of contact). There are numberless small coincidences in language and phrase, trifling in themselves, but which as a whole seem to argue a familiarity with the words of the Parzival. Such a correspondence is more likely on the part of Ulrich than on that of Wolfram, who by his own confession could not read or write, and must have become orally familiar with his source. But it is quite clear that a critical comparison of the two works is urgently needed, both in the interests of Arthurian tradition and of German literature. The popular impression, i.e. that Wolfram merely borrowed a few names from the Lanzelet, will not stand the test of investigation. Two conclusions alone are open, from which we must make our choice: either to admit the existence, beyond any doubt, of the French poem, other than Chrétien's, which Wolfram declared to be his source;33 or to place the date of Ulrich von Zatzikhoven some few years later than that usually assigned to him. We await the aid of some one of the many competent scholars Germany possesses to solve this puzzle for us.
CHAPTER III
LANCELOT ET LE CERF AU PIED BLANC
Before examining Chrétien's poem of the Charrette, which, whatever the date of composition, belongs by the nature of its contents to the later stages of Arthurian tradition, it will be well to direct our attention to a short episodic poem, undoubtedly French in origin, but, so far as we at present know, only to be found in a translation incorporated in the vast compilation known as the Dutch Lancelot.34 The contents of the poem are as follows: A maiden arrives at Arthur's court, attended by a brachet. She is the messenger of a queen who demands a champion to accomplish the following feat: in her land is a stag with one white foot, guarded by seven lions; she promises her hand to whoever will slay the lions, and present her with the white foot of the stag. The brachet will be guide to any knight who may undertake the adventure. Kay announces his intention of being the first to try his fortune, and sets out, guided by the dog. After riding some distance he comes to a deep and swiftly flowing river, which the dog promptly swims. Kay's courage, however, fails him at the sight of the water, and he turns back, feigning a sudden illness, which had prevented him from pursuing the quest. Lancelot then determines to try his fortune: he sets out, passes the river in safety, and is attacked by the seven lions. After a fierce conflict, in which he is desperately wounded, he succeeds in slaying them, and secures the white foot. At this moment a stranger knight appears, and Lancelot, exhausted by the fight, gives him the foot, bidding him carry it to the queen, and say that the knight who has achieved the adventure lies sorely wounded, and prays her aid. The knight promises this, but having received the foot, deals Lancelot a treacherous blow with his sword, and leaving him for dead rides off to the castle, and claims the reward due to the slayer of the lions.
The queen is much distressed, as the knight is both ugly and cowardly, and summons her lords and vassals to ask their advice. They recommend that the marriage be postponed for fifteen days, greatly to the disappointment of the knight.
Meanwhile Gawain has become anxious at the non-return of Lancelot, and sets forth to seek him. He finds him apparently dead, revives him, and conveys him to the dwelling of a physician, whom he instructs as to the proper treatment,35 and then rides himself to the court to punish the treacherous knight.
He arrives on the eve of the marriage, accuses the knight of his treachery, challenges him to single combat and slays him. The queen is much rejoiced at the news. Gawain brings Lancelot to the queen, who regards him as her future husband; but, on the excuse of calling together his kinsmen for the marriage, Lancelot contrives to leave the country, 'not for anything in the world would he have been faithless to Guinevere.' He and Gawain return to Arthur's court, and the queen is left vainly awaiting her bridegroom.
This conclusion is of course obviously lame and ineffective. The hero should wed the maiden, whose hand was the previously announced reward of successful accomplishment of the feat. That Lancelot undertakes the adventure at all can only be explained by supposing that the tale was connected with him previous to his being generally recognised as the queen's lover.
That he was not the original hero of the tale is proved by the fact that we possess a Breton lai which relates the story in a better and more coherent form, ascribing it to a certain Tyolet, whom we do not meet in any of the later Arthurian romances.36
The main points in which the versions differ are: (a) the maiden who comes to Arthur's court is herself the prize of the victor. This is a better version, as it simplifies the action, and accounts for the anxiety felt at the absence of the knight, who should have returned to court at once on achieving the venture. (b) Gawain's action (which is the same in both poems, with the exception that instead of his slaying the traitor, Tyolet arrives in time to prevent a combat) is clearly explained; the brachet, which has acted as guide, returns alone to court, and leads Gawain to the scene of the combat. In the Lancelot version it is difficult to understand how Gawain, who had no guide, finds his friend so quickly. (c) Tyolet weds the maiden, and returns with her to her own land, where he becomes king.
Here we have an unmistakable instance of a lai originally told of another hero being transferred to Lancelot.
The story itself, however, seems to be older than its connection with either hero; even in the Tyolet version, superior as it is to the Lancelot, the real meaning of the tale appears to have been overlooked or misunderstood. In its original form I think it was clearly a transformation tale. The stag was the enchanted relative of the princess who sought the hero's aid, and the spell which detained him in animal form could only be broken by the cutting off of the foot. We know that the smiting off of a member of the body (generally the head) is a well-recognised form of terminating an enchantment, and in this case the proposed solution would explain what, in the tale as it stands, appears a piece of unredeemed brutality.
A peculiarity of the Tyolet version is that it falls into two well-marked divisions, the first recounting the upbringing of the hero, and his arrival at Arthur's court, a tale bearing a marked affinity to the Perceval Enfances; the second being the 'white-foot' adventure. Now in this first part the hero, going into the woods in search of game, sees and follows a stag, which is transformed into a man before his astonished eyes. I suspect that this episode formed the connecting link between the two sections of the lai, the real meaning of the latter stag not having been lost when the two were united. A confirmation of this theory is found in the fact that one of the numerous 'shape-shifting' changes of Merlin was into the form of a stag with a white fore-foot.37 I also think this may well be the origin of the mysterious white stag guarded by lions which meets us so often in later Arthurian story. In the Queste stag and lions change into Our Lord and the Four Evangelists, thus preserving the transformation character.
But whatever the original character of the story, it has, in the form in which we now possess it, become affected by a motif extremely popular in mediæval times, that of the False Claimant. The leading characteristics of this widely spread tale may be summed up as follows. The hero at great risk to himself performs a feat, and possesses himself of a proof (previously agreed upon) that he has done so. The traitor comes on the scene, possesses himself of the proof (either attempting to slay the hero himself or believing him to be already dead), and claims the reward; not knowing that the hero has possessed himself of a further proof of his deed. The hero, left for dead, recovers, and appearing at the critical moment, confutes the traitor by the production of the second and decisive proof.
Of this story practically countless variants exist; Mr. E. S. Hartland, in his Legend of Perseus, vol. iii., has tabulated a large number gathered from all parts of the world. The most general version appears to be that in which the feat consists in the slaying of a dragon, to be testified by the production of the head. The hero, not content with cutting off the head, also cuts out the tongue, and is thus enabled to confute the traitor, who has omitted to look within the monster's jaws. It will be noted that neither in the Tyolet or Lancelot versions does the hero possess such a proof: in the first instance the impostor is put to shame by Tyolet's inquiry as to who slew the lions; in the second Gawain settles the matter by slaying the traitor. This lack of an important feature of the original tale seems to indicate that the lai in its primitive form did not belong to this group of stories, though from the character of the feat related the borrowing of features from so widely known a folk-tale was almost natural development.
A very good example of the False Claimant is found in some versions of the Tristan legend, notably the poems of Gottfried von Strassburg, and his source, Thomas of Brittany: very few of the prose versions have retained it.38
M. Gaston Paris seems inclined to connect the 'white-foot' adventure with this. Ultimately, of course, the stories must go back to a common source; but the Cerf au pied blanc presents the adventure in so general a form, that one can hardly connect it with any special variant of this very widespread folk-tale. The Tristan variant is, as I have said above, an especially good example, with many well-marked features, none of the more characteristic of which are reproduced in the lai. But we have in the same vast compilation the account of another adventure of the same character, also ascribed to Lancelot, which does appear to be directly drawn from the Tristan story.
In Morien39 we learn that Morien, Gawain, and Lancelot, seeking for Perceval and Agloval, come to a hermit's cell at four cross-roads. They ask whither the roads lead, and learn that that on the right hand leads to a waste land devastated by the ravages of a devil in the form of a beast. Lancelot determines to brave the adventure and, in spite of the remonstrances of the hermit, chooses this road. The writer of the tale informs us (but it should be kept in mind that the hermit does not tell Lancelot) that the lady of the country has promised her hand to whoever will slay the monster. A knight who has long loved her, but is too cowardly to dare the venture, keeps a watch upon all those who may attack the beast, with the secret intention of, if possible, slaying the victor and taking the credit of the deed to himself. Lancelot arrives at the monster's lair, which is surrounded by the bones of men and animals slain by the fiend. No description of the creature is given, but it is quite clear from the incidental details that the writer conceived of it as a dragon; Lancelot's sword and spear can make no impression on its skin; its claws pierce through shield and hauberk and score deep wounds on the knight's body; it breathes forth venom, which would have slain Lancelot but for the ring he wore (no doubt the ring given him by the Lady of the Lake); finally, as it opens its jaws to devour him, the knight thrusts his spear down its throat and pierces the heart. The monster utters a loud cry, which is heard over two miles off, and expires. The traitor knight, hearing the cry, knows that the monster is slain and rides to the spot. Lancelot is binding up his wounds; the traitor approaches, making feint to aid him, deals him a treacherous blow and leaves him for dead; then he cuts off the foot and is riding away when Gawain appears upon the scene and challenges him. Lancelot recovers from his swoon in time to bid Gawain slay the traitor, which he does. Before Lancelot can recover from his wounds news comes that the King of Ireland has invaded Arthur's kingdom, and is besieging the queen in one of her castles. Lancelot and Gawain go at once to her aid, and nothing is heard of the lady whose hand was to have been the reward of the venture. But, as I have noted above, there is no sign that Lancelot knew anything of the promised guerdon; his conduct is therefore more intelligible and less unchivalrous than in the lai.
The special points of contact with the Tristan story are these: (a) The nature of the animal, which is undoubtedly in both cases a dragon. (b) The hero undertakes the adventure unsolicited. Tristan lands in Ireland, hears of the dragon's ravages and goes off secretly to slay it. He has no thought of winning Iseult for himself. In both versions of the lai the lady herself invites the adventure. (c) The character of the traitor: in both Tristan and Morien he is represented as being too cowardly to dare the feat himself but as watching his opportunity to rob a brave man of the fruit of his valour. In the lai variants 'opportunity makes the traitor'; in these two versions the traitor is on the watch for his opportunity. (d) In both cases he is attracted to the spot by the death-cry of the monster. The appearance of Gawain, on the other hand, the death of the traitor, and the fact that it is the foot and not, as it should be, the head, which is cut off, clearly show the influence of the lai.
The ending is, of course, unsatisfactory, and it is curious that the writer, who in the details noted above clearly shows a knowledge of the excellent and complete version of the Tristan legend, should not have finished his story more in accordance with that tale. It is not impossible that the original adventure as contained in the Morien poem was the stag adventure, and that the compiler of the Dutch Lancelot, who evidently possessed an extensive collection of Arthurian documents, knowing that he was going to relate the story later on, purposely altered the earlier portion more in accordance with the dragon adventure of the Tristan tale, retaining the later portion for the sake of the rôle played by Gawain, who is one of his heroes, and who, it is scarcely necessary to say, does not appear in the Tristan legend. Unfortunately we have no other version of the Morien save that of the Dutch Lancelot, so the question must remain undetermined; all we can say with certainty is that the adventure as there related is combined from two distinct variants of the same original motif.
An interesting feature of the Morien story is that it shows the Lancelot legend influenced by the Tristan at a point practically unconnected with the central motif of that story, the loves of Tristan and Iseult.
The story of the cerf au pied blanc as attributed to Lancelot does not appear to have obtained any popularity. In no variant of the prose Lancelot is it related, or even alluded to; the version preserved by the Dutch compiler is, so far, the only one that has been discovered. But existing as it does, it clearly points to a date at which the Lancelot story was still told in isolated lais, and before the introduction into the legend of his love for Guinevere. Once fixed as Guinevere's lover, we can understand how the tale dropped out of the completed legend: alter the ending as they might the obstinate fact would remain that Lancelot voluntarily undertook an adventure the successful achievement of which would necessitate him becoming the husband of a stranger maiden; it was an impasse from which he could only escape at the cost of an insult to one or the other queen, and very wisely the compilers of his legend ignored the story.
It also seems probable that the original character of the tale itself was not properly understood by its compilers: an evidence, if evidence were really needed, of the extreme antiquity and, if I may use the word, 'unlocalised' character of the elements which went to compose the Arthurian cycle.
