Part 2

First, let us see exactly what Hue says. The passage in question (which will not be found in the translations) occurs at the end of the first portion of the poem. The author has just been relating how his hero, who is living at King Meleager’s court, in the assumed character of body-servant to the queen, scouts the idea of attending the tournament which is to decide who shall wed _La Fière_ of Calabria, loudly expressing his preference for the pleasures of the chase. Each morning he leaves the court before daylight, announcing his departure by loud blasts of the horn; but having reached the forest, where his servant awaits him with steed and armour, he sends his ‘Master,’ Tholomy, to hunt in his stead; and arming himself each day in a different suit of armour, white, red, and black, proceeds to the tournament, where he carries off the prize for valour, unhorsing all the principal knights on either side, even to the king himself, and his valiant nephew Cabaneus. Each evening he returns to the forest, reassumes his hunter’s garb, and with the spoils of the chase won by Tholomy takes his way to the court, where he vaunts the skill of his hounds above that of the unknown knight, and is roundly mocked for his lack of prowess by the ladies. After the third day he leaves secretly, to return to his own land, sending to the king, by the hand of a messenger, the spoils of his three days’ victory. The seneschal, Cananeus, volunteers to bring him back, and is punished for his officious interference, as related above.[13] At the conclusion of this episode, Hue states that he is not lying—at least not more than a little—and if he be ‘’tis but the custom of the day, and all the blame should not be laid upon him, Walter Map is just as bad.’

_‘Ore entendez seignurs mut ben_ _Hue dit ke il ni ment de ren_ _Fors aukune feiz neent mut_ _Nuls ne se pot garder par tut_ _En mendre afere mut suvent_ _Un bon renable hom mesprent_ _El mund nen ad un sul si sage_ _Ki tuz iurz seit en un curage_ _Kar cist secles lad ore en sei_ _Nel metez mie tut sur mei_ _Sul ne sai pas de mentir lart_ _Walter Map reset ben sa part.’_ —P. 82, ll. 19-30.

Now shall we understand this merely as a general allusion, without any special significance, or was there anything in the story which Hue had just been relating which might reasonably be supposed to have brought Map to his mind? Mr. Ward very pertinently draws attention to the fact that this appearance at a tournament on successive days, in different armour, is precisely an adventure attributed to Lancelot, and the _Lancelot_ is the romance most persistently attributed to Map. The parallel to which Mr. Ward refers is that contained in the earlier part of the _Prose Lancelot_.[14]

Lancelot first appears at Arthur’s court in white armour: he is known as ‘le Blanc Chevalier.’ On his first absence after receiving knighthood he is taken prisoner by the Lady of Malehaut, who detains him in her castle. A tournament, of a very warlike nature, taking place between Arthur and Galehault, the lady releases Lancelot, who, disguised in red armour, performs deeds of surpassing valour. He returns to prison, and on the encounter between the kings being renewed, again appears, this time in black. Finally, he reveals himself to the queen, and tells her that all the feats of arms he has achieved in the characters of white, red, and black knight were undertaken in her honour.

The general resemblance is, as Mr. Ward remarks, too striking to be overlooked; though, as he does _not_ remark, there are certain differences which seem to indicate that the version of the _Prose Lancelot_ has undergone some modification. Thus, there are not three consecutive days, but Lancelot’s appearance in the three characters occurs at widely separated intervals. Further, Mr. Ward does not seem to be aware that this is but one instance out of three in which the same, or a similar, adventure is attributed to Lancelot.

In the latter part of the _Prose Lancelot_, the section represented by the Dutch translation, we find Arthur holding a tournament, which has been suggested by Guinevere with the view of recalling Lancelot, who has long been absent, to court, and heightening his fame. Lancelot returns secretly, unknown to all but the queen, who sends him a message to come and discomfit the knights who are jealous of him. Lancelot appears in _red_ armour and overthrows them all. The queen demands another tournament in three days’ time, when Lancelot appears as a _white_ knight, with the same result. After this he reveals himself to Arthur.[15]

But the best parallel is that contained in the _Lanzelet_ of Ulrich von Zatzikhoven. Here Lanzelet makes his first appearance at court at a three days’ tournament; the first day dressed in _green_, the second in _white_, the third in _red_; overthrows all opposed to him, including Kay,[16] and takes his departure, without revealing himself.

With these repeated parallels before us, it seems impossible to doubt that when Hue de Rotelande referred to Walter Map, in connection with the tournament episode of _Ipomedon_, he had in his mind a version of the _Lancelot_, which also contained such a story, and which was attributed to the latter writer.

But what could this version have been? Certainly not the _Prose Lancelot_ in its present form. As we remarked before, this romance is the result of slow growth and successive redactions, and the two parallels contained in it bear marks of modification and dislocation. In my recent studies on the Lancelot legend[17] I have pointed out that in the process of evolution it certainly passed through a stage in which it was closely connected with, and affected by, the _Perceval_ story. Gradually the popularity of the hero of the younger tale obscured that of the elder; and in the _Lancelot_, as we now have it, the traces of _Perceval_ influence have almost disappeared from the majority of the printed versions, though interesting survivals are still to be found in certain manuscripts and in the Dutch translation. Now one of the best known adventures attributed to Perceval is that in which the sight of blood-drops on new-fallen snow—caused by a bird having been wounded, or slain, by a hawk—recalls to his mind the lady of his love, and plunges him into a trance; in which he is rudely attacked by Kay, who would bring him by force to court. He retaliates by unhorsing the seneschal with such force that he breaks, in one version both arms, in others, an arm and a leg.[18] It should also be noted that in the _Peredur_ a raven has alighted on the slain bird, and we have the three colours, black, red, and white, recalling the lady’s raven hair, white skin, and crimson lips and cheeks.[19]

Taking into consideration the proved connection existing between the _Perceval_ and the earlier forms of the _Lancelot_, it would seem most probable that a version of the tournament which included a similar discomfiture of the seneschal would belong to an earlier stage of evolution than one in which Kay did not appear. As I have pointed out above,[20] the _Lanzelet_ version not only includes Kay’s overthrow, but recounts it in words that forcibly recall the _Perceval_ episode.

It also seems probable that it was such a form which was known to the author of the _Ipomedon_, as he makes the discomfiture of the seneschal Cananeus, whose resemblance to Kay has already been pointed out, follow immediately upon the tournament episode.

So far, then, as the priority of existing versions is concerned, we must, I think, give a verdict in favour of the _Lanzelet_, though with the reservation that even here there has been, as we shall presently see, a certain modification of the story as known to Hue.

What now do we know of the source of the _Lanzelet_? From the statement of the author,[21] we learn that the original of this poem was a French book, ‘_daz welsche buoch von Lanzelete_,’ brought to Germany by Hugo de Morville, one of the hostages who, in 1194, replaced Richard Cœur de Lion in the prison of Leopold of Austria. Thus we know that the French book must have been prior to that date, but so far no one has detected any reference that would enable us to fix the period of composition more accurately. But the character of the romance as we possess it—a collection of episodes, many of them of marked folk-lore character, loosely strung together, and harmonising but ill with each other—makes it highly probable that the constituent parts of the romance had possessed an independent existence prior to being strung together on the slender thread of the hero’s personality. It is therefore perfectly possible that the French source of the _Lanzelet_ was in existence before Hue de Rotelande wrote the _Ipomedon_; it is more than possible, indeed, as we shall see, a fact of almost certain demonstration—that the adventure of the Three Days’ Tournament had been ascribed to Lancelot, certainly by 1160, and most probably before that date.

In the Didot _Perceval_, a romance which probably formed part of a very early cyclic redaction of the Arthurian legend, and one in which Lancelot plays a very subordinate rôle, we find an allusion to ‘_le fìz à la fille à la femme de Malehot_,’[22] which seems to suggest that even at that comparatively early stage the incident had undergone the modification familiar to us in the _Prose Lancelot_. In the result, I think we shall find that it formed one of the first steps in the development of the _Lancelot_ story.[23]

So far as the evidence of the _Ipomedon_ goes it suggests, if it does not absolutely prove, that at the period when that poem was written there was current a story which ascribed to Lancelot the adventures of the Three Days’ Tournament, in a form which, as might be expected in any early Lancelot version, showed traces of the influence of the _Perceval_, and which was popularly attributed to Walter Map. Of the versions which we now possess, that of _Lanzelet_ best corresponds to these conditions.

CLIGÉS

But there is another claimant in the field, and one whose right to be considered the original hero of the adventure it would, according to Professor Foerster’s opinion, be sheer impiety to doubt!—the _Cligés_ of Chrétien de Troyes. In the poem of that name the hero makes his first appearance at Arthur’s court at a tournament lasting for _four_ successive days: he wears successively _black_, _green_, _red_, and _white_ armour; and overthrows, on the three first days, Segramor, Lancelot, and Perceval; fighting on the fourth day an undecided combat with Gawain.[24] Professor Foerster, commenting on the _Lanzelet_,[25] remarks of the tournament episode ‘_das Wechseln der Rüstung stammt aus Cligés_; and further on[26] affirms that Chrétien ‘_sich—im Cligés sicher als ganz selbständig gezeigt hat_,’ a statement he repeats on p. cxxviii, and in another place[27] with even more emphasis, ‘_Dieser selbe Kristian ist in einem Roman wie_ Niemand _ableugnen kann_ GANZ SELBSTÄNDIG _vorgegangen, im Cligés_.’ That is, Professor Foerster asserts, and as emphatically as print will allow him, that Chrétien was entirely independent in _Cligés_; that the episode of the change of armour is the same in the two poems, and was borrowed by the author of the _Lanzelet_ from Chrétien, and therefore, if words mean anything, that Chrétien invented the story, and that Cligés is the real and original hero of the tale.

Well, if assertion were argument, and a liberal display of large type could settle intricate questions of literary criticism, we might hold the dependence of _Lanzelet_ upon _Cligés_ to be—not proven, no—but determined. But there are some few heretics who suspect that Professor Foerster’s _ipse dixit_, though imposed with all the weight of a Papal _imprimatur_, is not really more competent to decide a problem of sources than is that notoriously fallacious engine for the suppression of free investigation, and therefore, _more heretico_, we will be presumptuous enough to examine the question for ourselves.

So far as the dates of the _existing_ versions are concerned, be it said at once that the _Cligés_ is the older; _i.e._ it is older than the _Ipomedon_, the _Lanzelet_, or the _Prose Lancelot_; but how it stands with regard to the lost French source of the _Lanzelet_ is not so easily determined. The exact date of the _Cligés_ is not known. It was written after _Erec_, the translations from Ovid, and the lost _Tristan_; but before the _Charrette_ and the _Yvain_, which fall between the years 1164-73. Professor Foerster, in his Introduction to the _Charrette_,[28] has expressed himself in favour of as late a date as possible for that poem—towards 1170; and since the _Perceval_, Chrétien’s last work, was written about 1182, we can scarcely place the beginning of his literary career earlier than 1150. If we place the _Cligés_ before 1160, we shall, I think, be ascribing too great an activity to the decade 1150-60, in comparison with 1160-70. It seems more suitable to place the _Cligés_ about 1160; but, as we shall see, the argument is not affected by a few years one way or the other.

The most important factor in the problem, the French source of the _Lanzelet_, no longer exists,[29] yet it appears certain that the whole question hinges upon the possibility of this, or an analogous French _Lancelot_ story, having been in existence previous to the work of Chrétien de Troyes. It therefore becomes necessary, not only to carefully compare the two versions, that of the _Cligés_ and that of the _Lanzelet_, but also to inquire as to the source from which the story was originally derived. As we shall see, these two parts of our investigation mutually supplement each other, and in the sum-total present us with a compact and striking body of evidence.

As a first step in the inquiry we will take the _Cligés_, the _Lanzelet_, and the _Ipomedon_ (as being anterior to the _Lanzelet_ in its present form), and see if we can discover any traces of a knowledge of Chrétien’s work on the part of the two later writers. The answer will be unhesitatingly in the negative. In neither work is there any reminiscence (with the exception of the episode in question) either in name or incident of the _Cligés_. As a matter of fact, allusions to this poem are exceptionally rare. Professor Foerster states that there were two German translations, one by Ulrich von Türheim and another by Konrad Fleck, but of these only fragments remain. The _Parzival_ once mentions a Clîas, a knight of the Round Table, and in another place refers to the story of Alexander and Soredamors, but in each case it is doubtful whether the allusion is to Chrétien’s poem.[30] The English ‘_Sir Cleges_’[31] has no connection whatever with the earlier hero, and Malory’s allusions to a _Sir Clegis_ do not go beyond the mere name, and cannot be identified with either. In my _Lancelot_ studies I have commented upon the indifference with which _Cligés_ appears to have been received as being somewhat curious considering the undoubted literary value of the poem.[32]

On the other hand, the _Cligés_ knows Lancelot as one of Arthur’s most valiant knights, the third in order of merit, a position he certainly could not have held before his story had reached a fairly advanced stage of development. Indeed, Chrétien’s references to this hero deserve particular attention.[33] He is first mentioned in _Erec_ as a knight of the Round Table, third in rank, the two first being Gawain and Erec, but is only a name, taking no part in the action of the poem. In _Cligés_ he occupies the same position, but here Perceval, and not Erec, ranks second. Lancelot appears upon the scene once, and once only, when he is overthrown by _Cligés_ at the tournament in question. In the _Charrette_ he is the hero of the poem, the first of Arthur’s knights, the lover of the queen, and her rescuer from the prison of Meleagant. In the _Chevalier au Lion_ which followed, his name is mentioned but once, and that in connection with an allusion to the _Charrette_. In the _Perceval_ his name never appears at all. It seems extraordinary that the significance of these allusions, taken as a group, should so long have escaped detection. As a matter of fact I failed to grasp their importance myself when commenting upon them in my _Lancelot_ studies. Thus, the tournament episode in _Cligés_ is so close a parallel to that of the _Lanzelet_ that, as we have seen, Professor Foerster declares the one to be the source of the other. The rescue of Guinevere from Meleagant, the theme of the _Charrette_, parallels her rescue from Falerîn, also in the _Lanzelet_. In both the queen is abducted against her will; in both the prison is of an otherworld character: in the one Lancelot is of the party of rescuers, but takes no prominent share in the enterprise; in the other he is the sole agent of her deliverance. In commenting upon the poem in my _Lancelot_ studies,[34] I pointed out that the story was, in its essence, of so primitive a character, that it must certainly be, in its origin, of an earlier date than any extant literary version; and that, of the two before us, the _Lanzelet_, by its unlocalised character, the details it gives of Falerîn’s stronghold, and the comparatively unimportant position assigned to Lancelot, must be considered the older.

Further, in the roll of knights named in _Erec_, following such well-known names as Gawain, Erec, Lancelot, Gornemanz, le Biaus Coarz (Bel Couart), Le lez Hardis (le Laid Hardi), and Melianz de Liz, we have _Mauduiz li Sages_, who, as I have elsewhere pointed out (_Lancelot_, p. 80), can hardly be other than the enchanter of the _Lanzelet_, Malduz der Wîse. Taking all these facts into consideration, the position Chrétien assigns to Lancelot, and the two adventures (they are really only two, the incidents of the _Charrette_ are all subsidiary to the freeing of Guinevere) he records, is it not perfectly clear that Chrétien knew, and followed, an early version of the _Lancelot_ story, akin to, if not identical with, the lost French source of Ulrich von Zatzikhoven? Is it not far more probable that in the _Cligés_ he borrowed from the _Lancelot_ than that an adventure so persistently, and so early, attributed to that well-known hero should have been borrowed from the obscure _Cligés_?

If it be objected, as of course those who hold Professor Foerster’s views will object, that Chrétien’s position in the literary world of the day was such that it is infinitely more likely that he should be the lender rather than the borrower, I would ask, but how if the story from which he borrowed was held, rightly or wrongly, to be the work of Walter Map? Map was a much more important personage than Chrétien. Chrétien was a poet, and a good poet, but at the best to the world in general he would be no more than the favoured servant and dependant of a minor French princess. Map was a man of political importance, the trusted companion and emissary of the most prominent monarch of the day. What was the position held by Map in the eyes of that same public to whom Chrétien appealed may be gathered by the anxiety which the romance-writers showed to shelter themselves under his name. We have one or two Arthurian poems, such as _e.g._, _Diu Krône_, which purport to be by Chrétien; we have a whole mass of prose romance, practically the main body of Arthurian legend in its later form, which professes to be the work of Walter Map. Could testimony as to the relative status of the two men in the eyes of their contemporaries be more eloquent? Is it likely that Chrétien, even if he had held as exalted an idea of his own work as his latter-day admirers would credit him with—and he did _not_—would have thought it derogatory to his dignity to borrow from Map? I think not; and if we had not a jot or a tittle of further evidence on the subject, I should contend that, on the evidence of the poems alone, we have strong grounds for maintaining the priority over _Cligés_ of a lost _Lancelot_ version.

But as it happens, our case does not rest upon this evidence alone. We have at hand an important witness; a witness to whose evidence Professor Foerster and his followers shut their eyes and stop their ears, but who nevertheless is slowly, but surely, winning recognition as an important factor in the determination of such problems as those we are discussing. Let us turn to folk-lore, and find if from the lips of popular tradition we can gather evidence that may help to decide the question. We shall find an answer startling in its point and clearness.

THE FOLK-TALE

The _Contes Lorrains_ of M. Cosquin[35] contains a story, _Le Petit Berger_, in which we shall find our tournament adventure in what we may term full fairy-tale form. A princess expresses a desire to own a flock of sheep; her father consents, and hires a lad to guard them, of whom the princess becomes secretly enamoured. On three successive days the shepherd penetrates into a forbidden wood, and on each occasion slays a terrible giant, clad in steel, silver, or golden armour. By the death of these giants the hero becomes master of three castles, of steel, silver, and gold, in each of which he finds a suit of armour and a steed to correspond. He keeps the feat a profound secret, and when later on the king proclaims a three days’ tournament, the prize of which is the hand of the princess, he appears each day in different armour, and mounted on the corresponding steed—steel, silver or golden—wins the tournament, and weds the lady.

Now this is merely the shortest and simplest form of a story, which is found practically all the world over. Let us look at some of the variants.

In the notes to _Le Petit Berger_ M. Cosquin cites a Tyrolean variant, where instead of three giants the hero slays three dragons, thereby winning three castles. The armour corresponds to that of the previous tale; but the horses are black, red, and white, herein agreeing with the _Ipomedon_ and the _Prose Lancelot_; the compiler refers to other versions from the same country given by Zingerle,[36] but cites no details. In an Italian variant the horses are of crystal, silver, and gold.