Chapter I (1)

_Sul ne sai pas de mentir lart_
_Walter Map reset ben sa part._
_Ipomedon_, fo. 82, ll. 29-30.

These words of the author of the _Ipomedon_ were, some years ago, commented upon by Mr. Ward in his valuable _Catalogue of Romances in the British Museum_, vol. i. He there remarks that the allusion is especially valuable as being the direct ascription, by a contemporary, of the character of romance-writer to Walter Map, and that in apparent connection with the romance most persistently attributed to him—the _Prose Lancelot_.

The suggestive remarks of Mr. Ward do not appear hitherto to have attracted the attention they deserve. Recently, having occasion to write a brief notice of Walter Map, they came, for the first time, under my notice, and, taken in connection with certain points of the _Lancelot_ study in which I had for some time been engaged, assumed an unexpected importance. It became evident to me that the whole question of the connection of the _Ipomedon_ with Arthurian literature, and the light which the words of the author might throw upon the relation to each other of different forms of the same story, was well worth study; and might eventually be of material assistance in determining the much debated question of the position of Chrétien de Troyes in the Arthurian cycle.

In the following pages I propose to examine, first, the exact nature and value of the evidence of the _Ipomedon_ as regards Arthurian tradition; second, its bearing upon the versions of a popular incident in romance—the appearance of a knight at a tournament on three consecutive days, in the disguise of three different suits of armour—especially with relation to the versions of the _Prose Lancelot_, the _Lanzelet_ of Ulrich von Zatzikhoven, and the _Cligés_ of Chrétien de Troyes.

To begin with the _Ipomedon_. As is probably known to most scholars, the scene of this story is laid in the south of Europe—Sicily, Calabria, Apulia—and the names of the characters are largely borrowed from classical sources. The poem relates at considerable length the wooing of the Princess of Calabria, known as _La Fière_, by Ipomedon, son of the King of Apulia. (In the second part of the poem the hero’s father is dead, and he is, himself, king.) The lady has made a vow to wed none but the bravest of knights. Ipomedon, disguised as her cup-bearer, wins her love, and at a three days’ tournament, in a varying armour of white, red, and black, wins her hand, but disappears without claiming it, under the pretext that he has not won sufficient fame to satisfy her pride. In the second part of the poem the lady is threatened by an unwelcome suitor, in the person of a hideous giant. Ipomedon, aware of her plight, disguises himself as a fool, and goes to her uncle’s court, knowing that she will send thither for aid. He demands from the king the gift of the first combat that shall offer, which is granted as a mere joke. On the appearance of the messenger sent by _La Fière_—the favourite friend of the princess—Ipomedon claims the fulfilment of the king’s pledge, much to the disgust of the maiden, who will have nothing to do with him at first, but whose confidence he wins by his valiant deeds on the journey, defeats and slays the giant; and hindered from evasion by her gallant cousin, who proves to be his own unknown brother, finally marries _La Fière_, and, we learn, is eventually slain with his brother before Thebes.

The author of this poem calls himself Hue de Rotelande, and says that he lives at Credehulle, which Mr. Ward identifies with Credenhill, near Hereford. After completing the _Ipomedon_ he wrote a sequel, _Prothesilaus_, which he dedicated to his patron, Gilbert Fitz-Baderon, Lord of Monmouth. This Gilbert, the only one of his family so named, was Lord of Monmouth certainly from 1176 to 1190-91, and may have succeeded to the dignity earlier, as the last mention of his father is in 1165-66; but the payment by Gilbert of a fine for trespassing in the royal forests in 1176 is the first mention we have of him. As in the _Ipomedon_ Hue refers to the siege of Rouen in 1174, it is clear that both his poems fall between that date and 1190, the year of Gilbert’s death, but we cannot date them more exactly.[2] It is, however, certain that he wrote his poems on English ground, consequently it follows as a matter of course that any incident of Arthurian romances to which he may allude must have been known in England at that date.

Now what are the indications of familiarity with Arthurian tradition which we find in the _Ipomedon_? Setting aside for the present the Three Days’ Tournament, the main subject of our study, we may point out certain other incidents which have attracted the attention of scholars. Professor Kölbing,[3] in his study of the English versions of the poem, remarks justly that every reader must be struck with the close resemblance between the circumstances under which, in the second part of the poem, Ipomedon undertakes the defence of _La Fière_ and the opening of the _Bel Inconnu_ poems.[4] It may be pointed out that while in the first instance the parallel is with the English rather than with the French version, _i.e._, Ipomedon, like Libeaus Desconus, demands the _first combat_ that shall offer, while Bel Inconnu simply asks that the first request he shall make be granted, the feature that the maiden leaves the court without waiting for her unwelcome defender agrees with the French rather than with the English version: in the latter both depart together. As in all romances of the _Bel Inconnu_ cycle, the messenger is accompanied by a dwarf, who endeavours to induce a more gentle treatment of the knight, and as in all she continues to flout the hero till confuted by his deeds of valour. In the _Ipomedon_, certainly the conversion is more complete, as she offers the hero her love, if he will renounce the quest and accompany her to her own land. It is impossible to read the _Ipomedon_ and to doubt that the author was familiar with the story of Gawain’s unnamed son.[5]

Again, the seneschal of King Meleager, Cananeus, Caymys, or Kaenius, as his name is variously spelt, with his sharp tongue and overbearing manner, is strongly reminiscent of Sir Kay; and the parallel is further brought out in the encounter with Ipomedon, where that hero thrusts him from his steed, ‘_tope over tayle_,’ breaking in one version his shoulder-blade, in another his arm.[6] This should be compared with Lanzelet’s joust with Kay, and its result ‘_er stach hern Keiin so das im die füeze harte hô ûf ze berge kaften und dem zalehaften daz houbet gein der erde fuor_;[7] also with _Morien_,[8] where Arthur reminds Kay of the result of his joust with Perceval—‘_Hine stac u dat u wel sceen dat gi braect u canefbeen, ende dede u oec met onneren beide die vote opwerd keren_.’

Professor Kölbing also points out that the position held by Cabaneus, nephew of King Meleager, is analogous to that of Gawain, in the Arthurian cycle (to which I would also add that the name of _La Fière_ recalls that of _L’Orgueilleuse de Logres_ in Chrétien), and decides that the romance, as a whole, ‘_schliesst sich nach tendenz characterzeichnung und handlung diese klasse (i.e. dem artus-kreise) unverkennbar an_.’[9] That is, the _genre_ of composition was by 1174-90 so well established that it was freely imitated in romances entirely unconnected with the cycle by subject-matter.

When, therefore, in direct connection with an adventure of which several versions are preserved in the Arthurian cycle—the Three Days’ Tournament—we find the author of the poem excusing himself for somewhat embroidering his tale, and quoting Walter Map as one who practises the same art, our minds naturally turn to the romances of that cycle, and to Map’s reputed connection with Arthurian story.

As is well known, the question as to the share which may rightly be assigned to Walter Map in the evolution of the Arthurian legend is one of the problems of modern criticism. At one time or another, with the exception of the _Merlin_ and the _Tristan_, all the great prose romances of the cycle, the _Lancelot_, in its completed form, the _Grand S. Graal_, _Queste_, and _Mort Artur_, have been assigned to him,[10] and till quite recently writers on early English literature did not scruple to accept the tradition. Probably even to-day the majority would name Walter Map as the populariser, if not the inventor, of the Grail legend. Those, however, who are familiar at first hand with the romances in question have long since realised that in their present form they represent the result of a long period of accretion, and have undergone many redactions; they cannot possibly, as they now stand, be held to be the work of any one writer, certainly not of one who took so active and leading a part in public affairs as did Map. Further, his own statement, in the famous words recorded by Giraldus Cambrensis, to whom they were addressed, ‘_Multa_ _scripsistis et multum adhuc scribitis et nos multa diximus. Vos scripta dedistis et nos verba_,’ with the application that follows, have been held by Professor Birch-Hirschfeld and other scholars to be a direct denial on his part of any literary activity.[11] At the same time we know Map did write, and was interested in romantic and popular tales, further that he had the reputation of being a poet,[12] and the persistence of the tradition connecting him with the Arthurian cycle can hardly be set aside. The question is, do these words of Hue de Rotelande throw any light upon this disputed point? Can we hope by the aid of this contemporary of Map’s to arrive at a conclusion which may assist us in determining the real nature of his contribution to the development of this famous cycle, and will the ascertaining of this fact help us, as the definite establishment of a single fact often does, to solve other problems closely connected therewith? Mr. Ward, when he wrote the article to which I have referred above, expressed a decided opinion on this point; and it appears to me that by following up the lines of research there indicated we shall attain results far more important in themselves, and far more startling in their ultimate effect than he then suspected.

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.

Now let us turn to another of M. Cosquin’s tales, _Jean de l’Ours_,[37] where the main theme of the story is the release of a princess from an Otherworld prison. Here we shall find a Greek tale given, the details of which are, as we shall see, specially important for our investigation. A prince delivers his sister and three stranger princesses from the prison of a _drakos_ (translated by M. Cosquin as _sorte d’ogre_) on the summit of a high mountain. When about to descend himself, his brother cuts the cord and leaves him a prisoner on the mountain. In the ogre’s castle he sees three marvellous objects: a greyhound of velvet pursuing a hare also of velvet; a golden ewer which pours water of itself into a golden basin; a golden hen with her chickens. He also finds three winged horses, respectively white, red, and green, and sets them at liberty. In gratitude they transport him to the plain, and each gives him a hair from their tail, bidding him burn it when he needs their aid. The prince takes service with a goldsmith in his father’s city. The eldest brother desires to marry the eldest of the rescued princesses; she demands a velvet greyhound pursuing a velvet hare, such as she has seen in the ogre’s castle. The king offers a reward to any who can make such an object. The pretended goldsmith’s apprentice undertakes to do so, and sends the green horse to fetch the original. At the tournament in honour of the wedding he appears on the horse in a dress to correspond, carries off the honours of the day, and escapes unrecognised. His second brother marries the second princess. She demands the golden ewer—the red horse comes to his aid, and he wins the tournament in his red dress. When the third and youngest princess is to be wedded to the king’s brother he appears in white, on the white steed, slays the would-be bridegroom with a cast of his javelin, reveals his identity, and wins the bride. Here we have the three colours of the _Lanzelet_.

Again, in the variants of _Le Prince et son Cheval_, another tale of the same collection,[38] we find the Three Days’ Tournament allied to the rescue and escape from the Otherworld _motif_. In this latter story we have the well-known incident of escape from a giant, or a magician, by means of magical objects which, thrown behind the escaping pair, erect mysterious barriers between pursuer and pursued.

In his notes to _Le Petit Berger_, M. Cosquin quotes a remark of M. Mullenhoff, to the effect that in one variant of the story collected by him it is combined with ‘_le conte bien connu où le héros gravit à cheval une montagne de verre, pour conquérir la main d’une belle princesse_.’[39] Now the glass mountain is a well-recognised form of the Otherworld prison. Probably, too, we ought to connect with this some variants of the tale where the feat is to attain the summit of a high tower; a version of this is known among the Avares of the Caucasus; here the horses are blue, red, and black.

Thus we may note two well-marked classes of the tales, in one of which (_a_) the hero simply wins the hand of the princess at a tourney; in the second of which (_b_) he also rescues her from the Otherworld.

But there is a third variant of our story, in which the feat differs somewhat from _b_. The hero is again a rescuer, but this time he rescues the princess from death at the jaws of a monster, generally a dragon. This we may call class _c_. In the notes to _Leopold_,[40] M. Cosquin refers to a German variant where the combat lasts for three days, and horses and armour are black, red, and white. In this connection, as member of class _c_, Mr. Hartland has studied the story in his well-known _Legend of Perseus_,[41] and some of the variants he gives we shall find of interest to us.

In an Irish version, _The Thirteenth Son of the King of Erin_,[42] the hero, who has previously slain three giants, and taken possession of their castles and wealth, comprising three steeds, black, brown, and red, rescues the king’s daughter from a great monster, a serpent of the sea, ‘which must get a king’s daughter to devour every seven years.’ The combat lasts three days; but though the hero appears each day in a different dress, only on the first does it correspond with the colour of his horse. Here the tournament incident is lacking.

A very good example, this time hailing from the Odenwald, contains the conquest of the giants (eight), the three days’ fight with the dragon, and the Three Days’ Tournament. Here the hero is a king’s son, who, seeing the portrait of the princess, falls in love with her and dares the adventure from which his father shrinks.[43] This tale, as Mr. Hartland points out, apparently bears traces of literary influence, and it certainly recalls the _données_ of the _Ipomedon_ where the hero, also a king’s son, is attracted by the fame of _La Fière’s_ beauty, before he sees her.

In a gipsy variant from Transylvania, also given by Mr. Hartland, the princess has been carried off by a dragon to the glass mountain (thus apparently combining _b_ and _c_); and the horse—there is but one—has the mysterious property of appearing red in the morning, white at noon, and black at night.

It must be borne in mind that the legend which Mr. Hartland was engaged in studying was, before all else, a rescue legend—the rescue of Andromeda—consequently the variants of our tale, collected by him, are practically confined to what we have designated as class _c_, where the feat performed by the hero is the rescue of the princess from a monster. This particular feature he carries back, in insular tradition, to the old Irish story of Cuchullin’s rescue of Deborghill from the Fomori; sea-robbers, whose real character and origin are doubtful. The hero hears sounds of wailing, and finds the maiden, the daughter of the King of the Isles, exposed upon the seashore. He confronts the Fomori, three in number, and slays them one after the other. Thus the triple combat is preserved, but it appears evident that, even at this early date, the story had been modified in the interests of romantic saga.[44] With this (class _c_) form of the story we frequently find combined what is known as _The False Claimant_ ‘motif.’ The hero disappears after the rescue, having either left behind him some proof of his identity, such as, _e.g._, the binding of the heads of the monster on a withy in such a manner that none but himself can unloose them; or having in his possession such a proof as, _e.g._ the tongues of the severed heads, or the handkerchief, ring, or ear-ring of the princess. By means of this proof he confutes the cowardly rival who claims to have achieved the feat. This particular form of the story is perhaps, on the whole, the one in which it is best known. There is one group which, as we shall see, is of extraordinary interest and importance for the special study in which we are engaged.

In his _Popular Tales of the West Highlands_, under the title of the _Sea Maiden_, Mr. Campbell gives the following story.[45] An old and childless fisherman meets with persistent ill-luck in his calling, till one day a sea-maiden rises from the waves and promises him future success, if he in return will give her his firstborn son (assuring him of the birth of three). The fisher consents, and all falls out as the maiden foretells. Grown to manhood, the son, aware of the fate in store for him, resolves to go ‘where there is not a drop of sea-water.’ He sets out, and on his journey finds a lion, a wolf, and a falcon disputing over the carcase of a horse. He divides the spoil between them, and in return they promise him their aid, should he be in need of it. He becomes herdsman to a king, and we have the adventure with the three giants, in which the grateful beasts aid him, and he wins a white, a red, and a green filly ‘that will go through the skies’—obviously the winged horses of the Greek folk-tale[46]—and three dresses to correspond. Here he also slays the giants’ mother, and wins a comb and a basin, the use of which will make him the most beautiful man on earth. Follows the adventure with the sea-monster, a dragon apparently. The fight lasts for three days, and he appears each day in a different dress, and mounted on a different steed. The princess makes a mark on his forehead as he sleeps, and thus identifies the hero as her rescuer. They marry, but while walking by the seashore, the sea-maiden rises from the waves and carries off the hero as her property. The princess, by the advice of a soothsayer, succeeds in releasing her husband, and with the help of the grateful beasts, destroys the soul of the sea-maiden, which is in an egg. She being slain, the pair live happily ever after.

In this particular variant there is no _False Claimant_; but he appears in version number three of this story, and in version four we have the curious detail that the beast ‘was a fresh-water lake when he had killed her.’

Students of folk-lore will note that the tale in this form includes features not found in the majority of the versions, but representing well-recognised folk-tale _formulæ_. Thus the _Life Token_ is here—incomplete—the maiden gives the fisherman ‘something’ to be given to his wife, his horse, and his dog (obviously a _fisherman_ does not need a horse and a dog—these two features do not belong to each other); the wife has three sons, the horse three foals, and the dog three pups. Horse and dog ought rightly to play a part in the story, but in this special variant they do not appear, though in another they are mentioned in a subordinate rôle. The _Grateful Beasts_ and the _External Soul_ are equally well known in folk-tale, though again, as a rule, in a different connection. But the tournament is lacking; and after examining many variants of the tale, I have come to the conclusion that this feature belongs exclusively to the continental versions. Horses and dresses are found in the insular forms, but, so far, I have not found a single instance of the tournament. On the other hand, no continental variant appears to contain the sea-maiden episodes.

If we now summarise the leading incidents of the various groups, we shall find them somewhat as follows:—

1. Hero—King’s son. Herdsman or shepherd. Fisherman’s son turned
herdsman.

2. Slays three giants and wins three castles in which he finds three
steeds of different colours with dresses or armour to correspond. The
horses are occasionally winged.

3. Appears at a Three Days’ Tournament in these dresses, and thus wins
the hand of a princess.

(Incidents 1, 2, 3, which combined correspond to _Le Petit Berger_,
form the shortest version of our story, but probably not the most
primitive.)

4. Rescues the princess from an ‘Otherworld’ prison. Form of
imprisonment varies, but the ‘rescue’ is most generally found in
company with the tournament.

5. Rescues princess from a monster. Here the conflict generally lasts
three days, the three disguises are employed, and the tournament is
often absent.

6. Is robbed of the credit of his deed by a cowardly rival. This,
which is most generally found in combination with 5, is also sometimes
found in a modified form combined with 4, and is often lacking
altogether.

7. Is carried off by a mermaid, to whom he had been promised before
his birth. This appears to be confined to the Celtic group collected
by Mr. Campbell.

If the reader will refer to the various examples I have given above, he will see that these seven incidents represent what we may call the perfect skeleton of our story (to use a simile often applied by Mr. Campbell), though the bones are differently placed in different versions.

But, having summarised them, we also become aware of a very curious coincidence. Out of these seven incidents, six are found, and found more than once, in the earlier forms of the _Lancelot_ story. Thus dropping out incident 2, the winning of the armour, to which I know no good parallel, we find that Lancelot was a king’s son (incident 1), which, in itself, of course counts for little, but is of value in combination with other features (_Lanzelet_—_Prose Lancelot_); that he appears at a tournament, three days running, in different armour, the colours of which correspond with the prevailing colours of the folk-tale—green, red, white, or black, red, white (incident 3) (_Lanzelet_—_Prose Lancelot_); that he frees a princess (queen) from an Otherworld prison (incident 4) (_Charrette_—_Prose Lancelot_—_Lanzelet_, modified form); that he slays a monster (apparently a dragon), and is robbed by a cowardly rival (incidents 5 and 6) (_Morien_). A second version of the _False Claimant_ story is found in _Le cerf au pied blanc_. Finally, when a child, he was carried off by a water maiden, _meer-wîb_ (incident 7) (_Lanzelet_—_Prose Lancelot_).

Now these are characteristics which, in their _ensemble_, he shares with no other Arthurian hero. True, Gawain visits the Otherworld, but he does so rather in the character of lover of the queen of that world than as rescuer of one confined within its precincts. In the Dutch _Walewein_ alone, so far as I know, is his rôle definitely that of the deliverer. But none of the other incidents belong to his story. So, too, Tristan is the hero of a very fine version of the _Dragon Slayer_ and _False Claimant_ story, and it is moreover probable that the _Morien_ version has borrowed certain details from the _Tristan_, but he too can claim no share in the other incidents. The close correspondence, point by point, with a folk-tale of so widespread and representative a character, is, I submit, a peculiarity of the earlier _Lancelot_ story, which is of extraordinary interest as throwing light upon the genesis and growth of Arthurian legend.

In this connection I have by no means forgotten the energetic protests which, in certain quarters, were evoked by Mr. Nutt’s attempt to show that the story of _Perceval_ might in this way be connected with popular tales; and I am quite prepared to be told that tales collected in the nineteenth century are not to be trusted as indications of the sources of twelfth century romance. But in the instance before us the evidence, while of precisely the same nature as in the case of _Perceval_, exceeds it, both in bulk and extent. The story is not one story, but a large and well-marked group of tales; the folk-lore parallels affect not one, but many incidents of the romance. How large and how widely diffused is that story-group can only be appreciated by those who will examine the lists of variants appended by M. Cosquin to the four stories I have named above and those cited by Mr. Campbell under the heading of the _Sea Maiden_, and then compare these stories with the numerous examples given by Mr. Hartland in his exhaustive study of the _Perseus_ legend. The incidents are, as I have shown, six out of a possible list of seven. If, further, we remember that the group, with all its varying forms, is connected with such pre-historic heroes as Perseus and Cuchullin, we have, I think, a sufficient answer to those critics who would reject the evidence _en masse_ on the ground of modernity.

But supposing, for the sake of argument, that we accept the possible priority of the romantic over the popular form, what, with regard to the criticism of the Arthurian literary cycle, is the logical result? This: if the folk-tale be dependent upon a romance, that romance must of necessity be the _Lancelot_, as no other hero offers the same combination of incident. But a version of the _Lancelot_ story, from which _all_ these incidents could have been borrowed, must have been older than any form of the story we now possess. As we have seen above, the correspondence is sometimes with one, sometimes with another version; and a very famous incident of the tale, the _False Claimant_, only exists now in two romances, each of them preserved in an isolated and unique form. Therefore, if this be not a fully proven instance of the conversion of a popular folk-tale into an Arthurian romance, it must be a case of the development of a folk-tale from a fully organised and coherent _Lancelot_ story in a form anterior to Chrétien. The adherents of the theory which ascribes independent invention to Chrétien de Troyes, and a literary origin to the Arthurian stories, can make their choice between these two solutions of the problem—one or the other it must be.

For myself, I unreservedly accept the verdict pronounced by Mr. Campbell upon the _Sea Maiden_ as representative of the entire story-group. ‘Is it possible that a Minglay peasant and Straparola[47] (_or we may add Hue de Rotelande and the peasants of the Odenwald and Lorraine_)—neither of whom can have seen a giant, or a flying horse, or a dragon, or a mermaid—could separately imagine all these impossible things, and, having imagined them simultaneously, invent the incidents of the story and arrange so many of them in the same order?

‘Is it on the other hand possible that all these barefooted, bareheaded, simple men, who cannot read, should yet learn the contents of one class of rare books and of no other? I cannot think so.

‘I have gone through the whole _Sea Maiden_ story, and all its Gaelic versions, and marked and numbered each separate incident, and divided the whole into its parts, and then set the result beside the fruit of a similar dissection of Straparola’s _Fortunio_, and I find nearly the whole of the bones of the Italian story, and a great many bones which seem to belong to some original antediluvian Aryan tale. The Scotch (_insular_) is far wilder and more mythical than the Italian (_continental_).[48] The one savours of tournaments, kings’ palaces, and the manners of Italy long ago; the other of flocks and herds, fishermen and pastoral life; but the Highland imaginary beings are further from reality and nearer to creatures of the brain. The horses of Straparola are very material and walk the earth; those of old John MacPhie are closely related to Pegasus and the horses of the Veda, and fly and soar through grimy peat-reek to the clouds.’[49]

Mr. Campbell continues: ‘What is true of the Gaelic and Italian versions is equally true of all others which I know. If examined, they will be found to consist of a bare tree of branching incidents common to all, and so elaborate that no minds could possibly have invented the whole seven or eight times over[50] without some common model, and yet no one of these is the model, for the tree is defective in all, and its foliage has something peculiar to each country in which it grows. They are specimens of the same plant, but their common stock is nowhere to be found.’[51] Were Mr. Campbell living now, may we not feel sure that to these closing words he would add: _Assuredly it is not to be sought in an Arthurian romance of the twelfth century_?

THE ROMANCE

So much for the present as regards our folk-tale as a whole. Let us now see what light the study of it may have thrown upon the special subject of our investigation—the Three Days’ Tournament. And first of all, I think it has definitely settled the correctness of our title. East or west, north or south, wherever we have traced our story, whatever the hero’s feat—whether the rescuing the princess from a devouring dragon, or the winning her hand at a knightly tournament—the days required to complete the task are _three_—neither more nor less.