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"Guingamor", "Guigemar", &ldquoGraelentmor", "Lanval", and "Desire": A comparative study of five Breton lays.

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"Guingamor", "Guigemar", &ldquoGraelentmor", "Lanval", and "Desire": A comparative study of five Breton lays.

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Content GUINGAMOR, GUIGEMAR, GRAELENTMOR, LANVAL, AND DESIRE
it
A COMPARATIVE STUDY OF FIVE BRETON LAYS
by
William Earl Moritz
Hi
A Dissertation Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
(Comparative Literature)
June 1968
UMI Number: DP22520
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U N IVE R SITY O F S O U TH E R N C A LIFO R N IA
T H E G R A D U A T E S C H O O L
U N IV E R S IT Y P A R K
LO S A N G E L E S , C A L IF O R N IA 9 0 0 0 7
d a ‘ d P
T h is dissertation, w ritte n by
.........................W iU jam ..E a rl. M o r itz ........................
under the direction of hx&....Dissertation C om
mittee, and approved by a ll its members, has
been presented to and accepted by the Graduate
School, in p a rtia l fu lfillm e n t of requirements
fo r the degree of
D O C T O R O F P H I L O S O P H Y
'Tyttceja
..................... T ~ °
Date... June. .. 1.9..6.8....................
Dean
DISSERTATIO N COMMITTEE
Chairman
PREFACE
This study began with an attempt to analyze a single
( J
jBreton Lay, Le Lay de Guingamor, but it soon became clear i
Ithat no treatment of this particular lay would be complete
without discussions of two other topics which have been the I
I
source of almost all the critical interest Guingamor has \
received: the nature of the Breton Lay as a genre, and the
i
relationship between Guingamor and four other lays—
Guigemar, Graelentmor, Lanval and Desire— which share with i
it certain names, incidents, and phrases. ;
i .
The focus of critical attention on both of these issues
I
has been the question of originality. A twelfth-century j
I
I
Anglo-Norman poet usually called Marie de France is univer- i
i
sally accepted as the author of, among other works, a col
lection of twelve Breton Lays which appear together in one
j
manuscript with a prologue dedicating these lays to an
i
i l
unnamed king. Of the group of lays analogous to Guingamor,
I
I
i
^Complete information about Guingamor, the anonymous 1
lays, and Marie and her lays will be found in the Introduc- j
t i on . I
(two— Lanval and Guigemar— appear in Marie's collection, and 1
the other three— Guingamor, Graelentmor, and Desire— are j
|
anonymous. In view of the fact that the artistry of Marie's'
lays is highly respected, various scholars have tried to ;
| I
iprove either that Marie also wrote Guingamor, or that all
1 I
: the anonymous lays, including Guingamor, are merely pale ;
I
imitations of Marie's lays. |
These issues have been widely treated, and the present ;
study has no new evidence to offer, but it does offer a new ,
'approach to the material— an approach suggested by Eugene ,
i
iVinaver in his address Form and Meaning in Medieval ;
i
2
Romance. Vinaver observes that critics have been prone to
j |
lhandle medieval literature either as historical documents I
i
i
,useful as evidence of social, political, and linguistic |
I
phenomena, or as literary works which fail to comply with i
the standards established by the "New Criticism." To j
remedy this, Vinaver calls for a new awareness that, though j
i
the particulars of taste may change, men of all ages have j
! 1
: been intelligent and sensitive; therefore, vinaver
I *
i !
I :
! 2
Cambridge, 1966.
concludes, it behooves us to find the ways in which a given J
! j
work may have been meaningful in its day, regardless of our j
i
currently favored fashions in literary styles. j
j
This study, attempting to use a method compatible with
Vinaver's principles, will survey the criticism on \
i |
Guingamor, finding that no previous work has adequately I
treated this poem as literature in its own right rather than!
;as an analogue or derivative of other works. Then, in the j
'second chapter, the very idea of attempting to discriminate
1
between various Breton Lays on the mere basis of resem- ,
blances in plot and phraseology will be attacked by investi-!
I
1 I
gating the nature of the Breton Lay as a genre. Finally, in!
i
I ;
jthe third and fourth chapters, the five lays of the
Guingamor group will be analyzed, and on the basis of this
literary appreciation, the study will try to determine
whether any of these three anonymous lays might be by Marie
de France.
-4
TABLE OF CONTENTS
[
I Page
PREFACE ii
i
INTRODUCTION ............................................ 1
Chapter
I. A SURVEY OF CRITICISM......................... 17
| II . THE NATURE OF THE BRETON LAY ................ 38
III. A PLOT A N A L Y S I S ................................ 81
IV. A THEMATIC A N A L Y S I S .............................. 139
V. CONCLUSION....................................... 195
I
A P P E N D I X ....................................................205
BIBLIOGRAPHY ............................................ 207
I
INTRODUCTION
Le Lay de Guingamor is preserved in only one manu
script, which is presently in the Bibliotheque Nationale at
Paris where it is catalogued Nouvelles Acquisitions
francaises 1104.^ This manuscript, comprising seventy-nine
vellum folios written in two columns of about forty lines
i
teach, begins with a title in red letters reading "Ci
(
commencement les lays de Bretaigne" and ends with a similar
rubric reading "explicit les lays de Bretaigne." Each of
the twenty-four poems in this collection is headed by a
1
bitle in red reading "Cest le lay de . . ." and the first
i
2
letter of each poem xs enlarged and paxnted blue and gold.
I
I
I
1
The earlxest descrxption of the manuscript, that by
Gaston Paris in Romania, VIII (1879), 29-33, shows it to
.'have been in the same condition then as when I examined it
jduring the summer of 1966.
i 2
; At some time before 1878 when Gaston Paris discovered
the manuscript, two folios had been cut out following fol.
:35 and preceding fol. 36, as Paris numbered them. Thus
Le Lay des II Amanz is interrupted after 157 lines, and the
1
The only illumination in this manuscript appears on the
|
(first page and is unfortunately somewhat damaged. It shows
a standing man playing a vielle; to his left is a seated
(figure wearing a crown, and to his right are two other
f ,
seated figures. The paint has been scraped in such a way
Lay de Bisclavret begins on fol. 36 with the line which, in 1
the other manuscript of that poem (British Museum, Harley
978), is line 233. Since the other manuscript of II Amanz
contains the equivalent of 244 lines, about 320 lines, or
exactly two leaves, are missing. Curiously, E. Margaret
Grimes, an otherwise admirably precise and scrupulous ,
editor, in describing this manuscript for her The Lays of
' Desire, Graelent and Melion (New York, 1928), p. 40, says
that the manuscript contains "Twenty-five" lays and lists
'"Aelis" between Deux Amants [sic] and Bisclaret [sic] as if i
the missing pages contained a lay of that name, and yet the
fact that she notes "(from verse 233)" behind Bisclaret
, [sic] seems to indicate that she was aware of the missing
ipages and was not trying to fill them conjecturally. The
jpossibility that Aelis might be merely a typographical or '
; other mechanical error (a misreading of "(v. 157)"?) seems
to be precluded by the mention of twenty-five lays. I was
inot able to find any evidence— indexes, records of the manu-
jscripts at the Bibliotheque Nationale, or separate leaves ;
(containing anything which might be construed as "Aelis" and
;might be considered the missing pages— to suggest either
ithat there were more than two pages missing or that the
jpages contained anything except the ending of II Amanz and j
Ithe beginning of Bisclavret. The matter seems worthy of \
'notice since Grimes was usually so accurate and conscien
tious, and since "Aelis," whether it be the musical "Lay of 1
'Alice" or some lyrico-narrative poem such as is described by
;the author of Lay de L'Espine (1. 176), or some short love
jtreatise like Raoul de Houdenc's Roman des Ailes— which does
appear in one other manuscript of what are, for the most
jpar.t,-Breton Lays— would be of vital importance to the *
'whole matter of the nature of the Breton Lay as a genre (see
jbelow) .
! 3
that the faces of all the seated figures are obscured, and
i
hence the sex of the figures cannot be accurately judged,
nor the possibility be excluded that other listeners might
have been pictured merely as faces peering over the
shoulders of the three discernible figures. ■
The poem entitled "Cest le lay de Guingamor" begins in
the right-hand column of folio 23 recto and extends for 678 ■
lines to the left-hand column of folio 27 verso. This manu
script also contains the other four lays of the Guingamor
i
group: Guigemar, Lanval and Desire stand together as the
first three lays in the collection (folios 1 recto to 15
verso), and Graelentmor is the next to last lay (72 recto to
77 recto). A complete listing of the contents of this manu-
I
script will be found in the Appendix.
’ I
j According to Gaston Paris, the manuscript was copied j
I 3 . . '
around the end of the thirteenth century. It is m good
condition, and its text, taken by itself, seems quite
! i
regular, but a comparison of its version of the text of any
I !
> , |
piece with the version of the text of that same piece from ,
another manuscript reveals several distinct flaws, all
i
i ;
1
"^paris, pp. 29-33.
i 4
i
Iresulting from the scribe's free treatment of his source-
copy:
j 1. The scribe has normalized all the texts into his
own dialect, that of the lie de France, and his own
)
age by changing the morphological endings, and when
such changes modify the verse count of a line, he
will usually add a monosyllabic word or substitute
several alternate words which carry roughly the
4
1 same meaning, e.g. Lanval, 1. 76.
!
2. The scribe often bowdlerizes his texts by the
omission or softening of even the most vaguely
I erotic details, e.g. Lanval, 11. 561-562, Guigemar,
i
11. 257-258.
j 3. The scribe often enlarges and modifies descrip
tions to make them seem even greater and more
[
I
sumptuous, e.g. Lanval, 11. 212 a and b.
j 4. The scribe seems to be fond of cliche phrases and
! i
descriptions, and he will frequently substitute a •
I !
I '
| standard formula for words or whole lines that
!
i
4
j As many of the examples as possible are drawn from
Lanval because of the availability of an excellent critical 1
jedition of that poem with four texts in parallel columns: (
Marie de France, Le Lai de Lanval, ed. Jean Rychner (Geneva,
,1958).
I ---
5
| other manuscripts show to be somewhat more distinc-
1 tive or individual phrases. As an extension of
i this practice, he introduces whole passages which
i
seem to be borrowed from other lays, e.g. Graelent-
mor, 11. 8 a-f appear to be Guigemar, 11. 35-46
rendered into trite and standard diction.
5. In addition to these changes, the scribe seems to
omit a couplet about once every hundred lines.
Sometimes the results are negligible, but in
several cases the sense of a passage is signifi
cantly altered, e.g. Lanval, 11. 161-162, 181-182,
511-512, and 561-562 in addition to the major
omission of lines 305-312 which leaves out any
identification of the person whom the queen is
i
begging for justice,
j These flaws in the manuscript quality should have
caused critics to use special caution before relying heavily
on a textual reading in Guingamor, and should allow editors .
! 1
a special latitude in suggesting revisions, but none of the i
editors has ever commented on the distinctly inferior
quality of the manuscript.
i Guingamor has been edited four times. Gaston Paris ,
first published it, along with all the other "lais inedits"
known to him., in Romania, VIII (1879) , 50-59. Paris pre
sents the text essentially as it appears in the manuscript,
with a minimum of modern punctuation and emendation. In
1922 Erhard Lommatzsc'h published a similarly conservative
5
edition with an exhaustive glossary. Meanwhile, Peter
Kusel, working under professors Lommatzsc'h and Zenker, pre
pared for his 1914 doctoral dissertation an edition of
Guingamor in which the text was transposed from the Parisian
dialect of the manuscript into the Anglo-Norman dialect that
Kusel proved it had been originally written in; this disser
tation, entitled "Guingamor, ein Lai der Marie de France,"
remained unpublished until 1925 when Karl Warnke included it
as a special supplement to the third edition of his Die Lais
I der Marie de France,^ which at that time was the definitive
■scholarly edition of Marie's lays. in 1954, Erich von
i
Richthofen's Vier altfranzosische Lais der Marie de France, ,
jprepared for a series of student texts, again presented an
[edition of Guingamor which conserves the readings of j
5
Le Lai de Guingamor— Le Lai de Tydorel, Roman-ische
Texte 6 (Berlin, 1922).
^Bibliotheca Normannica III (Halle, 1925), pp. 225-256.
I 7
the manuscript with only a few emendations.
Marie de France is the name traditionally given to the
poet who wrote her name into three works: a collection of
i
i
lays,, a collection of beast fables, and a translation of a
%
Latin tract on the Purgatory of Saint Patrick. In one manu
i
script, British Museum, Harley 978, twelve lays appear to
gether with two prologues; the first dedicates the lays to
king, and the second, shorter one contains a couplet men
tioning the name Marie:
: 0§z, seignurs, ke dit Marie
i Ki en sun tens pas ne s'oblie.
j (prologue B, 11. 3-4)
iln that same manuscript, a collection of 102 short fables
jcontains an epilogue in which the author says:
I Me numerai pur remembrance:
| Marie ai nun, si sui de France.
' (11. 3-4)
jThe epilogue also dedicates the fables to a "Cunte Willame.
r
I
jAnd at the end of the Espurgatoire Seint Patrice, she says:
I
; Jo, Marie, ai mis, en memoire,
I Le livre de 1'Espurgatoire
1 En Romanz, qu'il seit entendables
! A laie gent e convenables.
(11. 2297-2300)
4 -
' 7 . .
Romanische Ubungstexte IXL" (Tubingen, 1954).
i
1 in addition to these statements, there are three pieces
*
of evidence bearing on the question of Marie's identity: a
contemporary reference to her, textual indications of her
habitat, and the scope of her experience and attitudes as ,
|
revealed in her writings. 1
i
i
In the preface to his Vie Seint Edmund, the twelfth-
century Anglo-Norman author Denis piramus refers to a "Dame ,
Marie" who composes popular lays which she falsely claims to
g
be true histories. There is no conclusive way of dating
Denis' work— although the editors of his poem suggest that
lit was written in the 1170's— but nonetheless, this refer- .
lence proves that Marie was famous before the end of the
twelfth century, and that she was the object of respect,
'since the term "Dame" could be applied to any superior, from
I 9
Ian abbess to a royal woman.
i . .
Clearly Marie lived in England and was familiar with |
•English things. She uses half a dozen English words in her ,
{works; she refers to King Stephen's reign, and bothers to
I
mention that King Alfred made an English translation of
i
[
!
i
g
La vie Seint Edmund le Rei, ed. H. Kjellman
(Goteborg, 1935), p. 58, 11. 35-36.
: 9 ' '
| John Fox, "Marie de France," English Historical
^Review, XXV (1910), 305.
I
fables; and she once refers to the continent as "Terres de
la" (Milun, 1. 332). This internal evidence added to the
i
i
jfacts that her source for Saint Patrick was written by an
English monk, that Denis Piramus was English, and that the
best manuscripts of her works are English, definitively
establishes that the location of her literary activity was
England.
Only one other piece of evidence is at all:conclusive
in establishing Marie's dates or identity: in the
I
Espurgatoire, 1. 2074, she refers to Saint Malachias who was
'canonized July 6, 1189, which means that work must have been
written some time after that date, probably shortly after
the time when the new canonization would be fresh in every
one's mind. ;
I j
! Other criteria for judging Marie's identity or date are;
'completely questionable. Edith Rickert has argued that the !
I
i
description of Pistre in Les Deus Amanz is accurate enough !
I
I 1
to be considered as a possible birthplace or childhood home ■
1 i
of Marie; this, however, is a matter of pure guesswork, 1
i
since Marie might also have been trying to flatter some '
local noble who derived from Pistre, as well as
| 10 :
nostalgically recalling her old home.'*'^ The romance of ille
1st Galeron by Gautier d'Arras refers to a lay which could be,
Eliduc, but there can be no certainty that Gautier refers to
Marie's particular version; furthermore, the date of
Gautier's work is variously placed from 1167 to 1185,, yet on
the basis of this "evidence" one still sees 1167 mentioned
11 '
as the date by which the lays must have been completed.
There are three prominent theories as to Marie's iden
tity., each of them admittedly almost totally conjectural,
i
and none of them widely approved or considerably favored
above the others.
I
i
! The suggestion least favored by scholars writing on the
i
i
Breton Lays is Ezio Levi's contention that Marie was abbess !
i
[at Readingj where the Harley manuscript of her works was
!
probably copied, and that the king and count to whom she ;
I '
dedicated her works were Henry III and Guillaume le ;
i 12 :
Marechal. The unpopularity of this theory derives as much
^Edith Rickert, Marie de France: Seven of Her Lays 1
■ Done into English by Edith Rickert (London, 1901), pp. 137-
:i48. j
i
^Ed. Frederick A. G. Cowper (Paris, 1956), p. xlv.
1 2 i
* "Studie sulle opere di Maria di Francia: II, Maria ;
di Francia e le Abbazie d 1Inghilterra," Archivum Romanicum, 1
V, iv (1921), 472.
'from the fact that Levi linked it with attribution of the |
i
i
[Roman d'Eneas to Marie and insistence that Henry II could
not be Marie's king, as it does from any internal inconsis- J
i
i
tency.
The late Sir John Fox maintained that Marie was most S
I :
i 1
jlikely the Abbess of Shaftesbury who was born about 1150 as ,
»
the illegitimate daughter of Godefroy d'Anjou and hence |
■half-sister to King Henry II; this Marie had become abbess
,by 1181 and died some time during 1216 when she was last
; I
[mentioned in an extant document, and when King John— who had
earlier called her "Carissima Amita mea"— appointed the
Prior of Wareham to govern the abbey for an unspecified
: 13
reason which was most likely the death of the abbess.
j
Since Henry II is known to have been the patron of Wace and
Benoit de Sainte-More among others, this identification of
I !
'him with the noble king would be additionally plausible. ;
; i
iFox's candidate for "Cunte Willame" would be Guillaume !
! i
iLongespee who was the bastard son of Henry II and the fair
I 1
'Rosamond and hence the nephew of the Abbess of Shaftesbury; ;
13
Fox, pp. 303-306; John Fox, "Mary, Abbess of
|Shaftesbury," English Historical Review, XXVI (1911), 317-
326. See also Laura Sydenham's Shaftesbury and Its Abbey
.(Lingfield, Surrey, 1959), pp. 16-18.
L . . . __ _________________________________________________________________
he was the Earl of Salisbury, and a recorded patron of
Shaftesbury Abbey. Furthermore, an illegitimate aunt might
I
well have a special affection for an illegitimate nephew.
; The third candidate, proposed by urban T. Holmes, is
Marie Talbot, daughter of Count Waleran de Meulan who lived
i
14
in the lie de France. This Marie married a Hugh Talbot
and presumably moved with him to his home in Herefordshire,
Jthe site of some of Marie's lays and some known literary
activity in the late twelfth century. This Marie would have
been of the petty nobility, "de France," and living in
England; the king and count could be any of several choices,
since this Marie has no recorded special affinity with any
I
of the ruling nobility. There is no suggestion in the
I
^records that this Marie ever wrote.
i
i
l
i There is, in fact, no reason for believing that any of .
!
!the proposed Maries was an author, and yet no evidence j
!
(excludes any of the three. I personally favor the second
I
< i
I
■of these three proposals. Shaftesbury Abbey was a large and
i I
I 1
iimportant pilgrimage site whose abbesses— more than one of
I 14
"New Thoughts on Marie de France," Studies in
Philology, XXIX (1932), 1-10. The most recent arguments in;
favor of this theory are those of P. N. Flum in Romance
‘ Notes, VII (1965), 83-86.
.whom had noble connections— show themselves in the many
legal documents preserved, to be women who were well
; acquainted with the ways of the world, even though they were
jcloistered. This image, combined with the evidence cited
above, conforms more to the picture of Marie which I can
deduce from her works than does the image of the French
icountess turned wife of country squire or the country abbess
i
With no special connections with the reigning royalty. Any
final identification, however, must await some new, more
I
positive evidence.
]
The standard edition of Marie de France's complete
works is that by Karl Warnke for the Bibliotheca Normannica
i
! 15
'series, with introductions, notes and glossaries in German. .
i
Warnke treats the texts rather freely, regularizing spell-
i
ling, reprinting all interpolated lines as if they were
j i
igenuine, and juggling considerably to make the lines count \
[out in Warnke's approved system. Some of Warnke's modifica-,
i
tions and selections are monstrous, such as his emendation j
»
i
of the couplet from Chevrefoil (11. 77-78) which in the ;
15
Die Lais der Marie de France (Halle, 1925); ■
i Die Fabeln der Marie de France (Halle, 1898); Das Buch vom ,
Espurgatoire S. Patrice der Marie de France und seine Quelle
(Halle, 1938).
14
Harley manuscript appears as:
i
Bele amie, si est de nus:
Ne vus sanz mei, ne mei sanz vus!
Warnke renders this:
Bele amie, si est de nus:
ne vus senz mei ne jeo senz vus!
(
Despite the unsatisfactory nature of the text, Warnke1 s
edition remains the most recent scholarly treatment of all
three of Marie's works by a single editor.
The two best editions of Marie's lays are those by
Alfred Ewert, with introduction, notes, and glossary in
16 . . .
English, and by Jean Rychner with introduction, notes, and
* 17
'glossary in French. Both of these editors use the Harley
manuscript as the basis for their text, and both editors
i
make a minimum of emendations on it.
(
The editors of Marie's lays have adopted a system of
i
^short-titling for the extant manuscripts of her lays which
y/ill be used throughout this study. The manuscripts which !
1
I
will concern us are the following: j
i !
I
I
i
^^Marie de France, Lais, Blackwell's French Texts
;(Oxford, 1963).
17
Les Lais de Marie de France, Les Classiques Fran9ais
du Moyen Age, no. 93 (Paris, 1966).
i MS. H. British Museum, Harley 978. This manuscript
!
contains the long prologue and all twelve of Marie's lays.
It represents the best text for Guigemar and Lanval.
I
! . MS. C . British Museum, Cotton Vespasian B XIV. This
manuscript contains Lanval, foil. 1-8.
MS. P. Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale, franpaises 2168. i
■This manuscript contains Guigemar, Lanval, and Graelentmor.
j
MS. S . Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale, Nouvelles
^acquisitions francaises 1104. This manuscript, described in
I
detail above as the Guingamor manuscript, contains nine of
.Marie's lays, including Guigemar and Lanval, as well as
Guingamor, Graelentmor and Desire.
MS. B. Cheltenham, Sir Thomas Phillipps' library
no. 3713. This manuscript contains Desire and several '
t
;other anonymous lays. !
MS. N . Upsala University Library, Delagarde collection j
I !
no. 4-7. This is a translation into Old Norse, done at the!
i 1
request of King Haakon (1217-1263), which contains all or j
part of twenty-one lays, including a complete Guigemar and
i
' Desire, most of Lanval, and fragments of Graelentmor.
; The most recent edition of Desire and Graelentmor is
I
18
that prepared by E. Margaret Grimes. Unfortunately, she
i
uses as the basis for her text MS. S, and she preserves all
■its inflations and emendations. Fortunately, Grimes gives
I
.extensive textual notes indicating all of the variations
I
J
in the better manuscripts, and also indicating the typo-
I
graphical errors in varxous edxtxons based on the other
i
manuscripts.
j In this study, quotations and line references will be
t
I
I
taken from the MS. H version of Marie's works, the MS. S
yersion of Guingamor, the MS. P text of Graelentmor, and
jthe MS. B text of Desire.
;i928)
18
The Lays of Desire, Graelent and Melion (New York,
-----
}
i
J
<
i
CHAPTER I
A SURVEY OF CRITICISM
The criticism of Guingamor has centered entirely around
two problems: its authorship and its folklore analogues.
Earlier critics were overwhelmingly enthusiastic about the
merits of the poem and most often ascribed it to Marie de
France; later critics have been consistently cooler toward
jthe poem and have most often merely dismissed it as an imi- •
I
'tation of Marie's lays. Critics have unanimously agreed,
and demonstrated further and further, that the episodes in
i
Guingamor are based on a universal stock of folklore motifs
I
l
I
■which are commonly represented in Celtic as well as in other
i ,
literature. No one has carefully or systematically studied j
Ithe literary merits of the poem.
i j
! The first critical statements about the poem— Gaston |
i :
jparis' notes to his 1879 edition— set the trend of most
i i
'later criticism by claiming in a single sentence that
i Guingamor was "le plus beau de ceux [lais] qui paraissent
i
»
t t
17
; is
'ici pour la premiere fois" but offering no substantiation
I 1
for this judgment at all. in a paragraph., pans points out
the most obvious folklore and literary analogues to the
■various incidents in the poem.
I
In 1886 Wilhelm Hertz published a German verse trans
lation of Guingamor along with a number of other lays,
2
fabliaux, and Aucassin and Nicolette. Hertz accompanies
these admirable translations in the original rhyme and meter
schemes with a superb set of notes which, in the case of
'Guingamor, primarily explore a number of contemporary refer-
t
i
ences to the name "Guingamor" and a number of literary ana-
t
ilogues.
I Half a dozen years later, Karl Warnke, who had mean-
I
while prepared a scholarly edition of Marie's lays, consid- 1
i
i
i
jered briefly the various anonymous lays and concluded that
hone of them, including Guingamor, could be by her, even i
I
though Guingamor had been originally written in Marie's
dialect and thus was, on purely linguistic grounds, not to j
i
be excluded from her canon. Warnke's only reasons for
I
i
i ,
"^""Lais inedits," Romania, VIII (1879), 50-51.
! 2 !
Spielmannsbuch (Stuttgart, 1886), pp. 370-375.
excluding it are contained in a single statement about its
jstyle:
I in dem Stoff und der Komposition des Gedichtes, in der
Charakteristik der handelnden Personetij in der Schreib-
• weise und endlich im Versbau lasst sich kaum eine Eigen-
tumlichkeit entdecken, die von Mariens Dichtungs— und
Schreibweise abwiche. . . . Aber auch in diesem Gedichte
| ist die Sprache zu eigenartig gefarbt, als dass sie der
I Hypothese, jene Dichterin sei die Verfasserin desselben,
die notwendige Grundlage und Stutze geben konnte.^
The half dozen specific textual references which Warnke
'cites as being unlike Marie's style were systematically
refuted by Rudolf Zenker in his review of Warnke's mono
graph. in addition to stressing the fact that since we have
t
only one manuscript of Guingamor we cannot safely assume
f
i
that any given line is not interpolated or modified by the
scribe, Zenker further maintained that Guingamor does not,
tin fact, differ substantially in style from the lays of
i . 4
Marxe.
The apogee of Guingamor admiration was surely reached
I
that same year of Warnke's study in the dissertation of
t
!
-Axel Ahlstrom on the Breton Lays in general. Ahlstrom
j Marie de France und die anonymen Lais (Coburg, 1892),
pp. 16, 18.
I
t
^Literaturblatt, XIII (1892), 418-421.
I 20
finds Guingamor similar to Marie's lays, but vastly
I
superior.
I
' Att med G. Paris antaga, att Marieoskulle ha forfattat
afven denna lai, anser jag redan pa grund af dessa, om
o o
j ock sma differenser, vara mindre radligt. Men hvad som
I bestamdt talar emot ett sadant antagande ar den hogst
! °
fbrtraffliga stilen, vida skild fran Marie de France1
glattpolerade men temligen ointressanta framstallnings-
! satt. I stilistisky afseende betecknar Guingamor utan
tvifvel hojdpunkten inom laislitteraturen. Den ar ocksa
den enda af vara lais, som formatt hoja sig till en
( varligt poetick kraft och schwung i uttryckat. Hela
J skildringen af Guingamors jakt i den fortrollade skogen
' ar synnerligen askadligt och praktigt gjord, och hans
mote med feen och karleksscenen dem emellan ar framstald
| med ett, for tiden ovanligt naivt, nastan kyst, behag,
j som varkar synnerligen angenamt vid sidan af Graelents
; brutalt naturalistiska behandling af samma tilldragelse
och Marie de France1 anstandigt raffinerade detaljskil-
dringar af dylika situationer.5
5
"To accept along with G. Paris that Marie should have
written also this lay, I myself regard as less advisable
already on the grounds of these [grammatical points], though,
jthey are small differences. But that which definitely 1
pleads against such an attribution is the sublimest, excel- ■
lent style, widely divorced from Marie's smooth-polished butj
pretty uninteresting expositional-style. in stylistic con- !
siderations, Guingamor marks, without a doubt, the highpoint!
within lay-literature. It is also the only one of our lays
which is able to raise itself to an actual poetic power and j
soaring in the phrase. All the description of Guingamor’s
hunt in the enchanted forest is singularly perceptive and
splendidly done, and his meeting with the fairy and the love
scene between them is presented with what is for that age an
unusually naive, almost chaste grace which seems singularly
delightful beside Graelent's brutally naturalistic handling
of the same event and Marie de France's properly refined
depiction of a similar situation." Studier i den forn-
franska laisliteraturen (Upsala, 1892), p. 58.
Ahlstrom's remarks were never translated from Swedish
J
i
and no later critic mentions the scope of his admiration.
Unfortunately Ahlstrom does not support his conclusions with;
any specific textual references beyond those quoted, and
devotes the rest of his half dozen pages on Guingamor to a
mere plot summary and a discussion of folklore analogues.
This discussion of folklore and literary analogues
was carried even further by Ferdinand Lot who pointed out
that the white boar in Guingamor was really an analogue of
>
the Twrch Trwyth or "hoary sow" which King Arthur hunts in
ithe Welsh tale of Culhwch and Olwen, as well as to the white
i
! 6 '
sow which is hunted by Henwen in one of the Welsh triads.
i
! The first major study concerned entirely with
i ;
'Guingamor is likewise devoted entirely to a discussion of :
I
jfolklore and analogues. William Schofield's "The Lay of
I 7 1
puingamor" in 1896 centers largely around the notion that |
|in the clothes-stealing incident, Guingamor1s lover func-
Jtions as an enchanted swan-maiden rather than as an ordinary!
i I
fairy; therefore the author (whom Schofield accepts as
i
j
6
"Le blanc pore de Guingamor," Romania, XXV (1896),
t5 90-591.
1 7
, Harvard Studies and Notes, V (1896), 221-244.
I 22 '
I
Marie) must have taken this incident from another source
t
beside that which provided either the insulted queen or the
’ fairy mistress episodes. The importance of Schofield's
study lies in the fact that he insists upon the integrity of
( the authors of Breton lays* and sees them as taking oral
|
tradition and molding it into artistic products. Gaston
Paris in his review of Schofield's article supports this
idea and reiterates as well his belief in Marie's authorship
■ * 8
of Guingamor.
Jessie Weston accompanies her 1900 translation of
Guingamor with notes again reaffirming that it is not only
1 9
by Marie but one of her. best lays. Edith Rickert m a com
panion volume of Marie's lays gives one of the only compari-'
i
sons of all five Breton lays— Guingamor, Graelentmor, :
i
Guigemar, Lanval, and Desire— which are so obviously inter- .
1
related in terms of plot incidents and heroes' names. j
i '
i i
Rickert does not conclude that any of the five are partic
ularly later or inferior to the others, but rather sees all
t
I
ifive as a part of a folklore complex from which the authors
i i
i i
' 8
. Romania, XXVII (1898), 323.
■ 9
Guingamor, Lanval, Tyolet, Bisclavret— Four Lais
Rendered into English Prose (London, 1900).
23
l
have drawn selected materials in accordance with the partic-
I
ular meaning they were trying to express. Unfortunately
Rickert does not carefully conclude what each author wanted
;to express^ but remains content with describing the differ
ences between the lays and several other analogues.
Although she does not specifically deny Marie's authorship
»
of Guingamor, Rickert's consistent failure to mention it in
connection with Marie makes one question whether she favored!
the attribution or not.
i
, In the 1905 edition of La litterature francaise au
*
moyen age, Gaston Paris reiterates his belief that Guingamor
11
,is authentically by Mane.
Three years later., Lucien Foulet astounded the world of
medieval studies by his radical proposal that Marie had
I
|invented not only the particular stories she tells but also ,
i !
'the whole idea of the Breton Lay,, with no sources at all.,,
Celtic or otherwise; consequently all references to the |
j
Breton Lays must be later than her works (which would then
j :
ipredate Thomas and C'hrestien) * and all lays not by Marie
I
i ^°Marie de France: Seven of Her Lays, pp. 157-174.
t
"^Paris, 1905, p. 98.
must be later imitations of her popular new form.
i
Guingamor fails to figure in Foulet's immediate argument or
i
in most of the controversy which followed since Foulet in
cluded it tacitly among Marie's lays, and no one chose to
challenge this particular point amid so many other conten
tions .
i
In 1914, Peter Kusel prepared a dissertation for the
i
university at Rostock showing on technical grounds that
there was nothing to prevent Guingamor from being by Marie.
This study included a text of the lay "regularized" to con- ,
'form with the Anglo-Norman patois Warnke had used in his
i
edition of Marie's twelve lays. This dissertation was not
published until 1922 in the publications of Rostock; but
when it did appear, Warnke read it and was enough convinced
i 1
to include it in his new edition of the lays, thus reversmgj
13 1
his earlier decision against Guingamor's "authenticity." j
As it appears in Warnke's volume, Kusel's rationale is quite,
comprehensive concerning dialect and rhyme technique, but
12
"Marie de France et la legende de Tristan," Zeit-
schrift fur Romanische Philoloqie, XXXII (1908), 161-183,
257-289.
I
* 13
1 Warnke, Die Lais der Marie de France (Halle, 1925),
Ipp. 225-256.
only one paragraph is devoted to the question of narrative
style. Kusel merely notes that sometimes in Marie's "echt"
lays she uses transitions as abrupt,, epithets as commonplace,
!
and descriptions as vague and impractical as those found in ,
Guingamor; while he does offer a specific comparison which
i
seems valid for each of these points, he presents no
thoroughgoing stylistic analysis and comparison of the
various poems by Marie with Guingamor.
In addition to Warnke, Kusel indicates that professors
i
Zenker and Lommatzsch, who helped him in his studies, concur'
i
with his conclusions. Furthermore, James Bruce in his
monumental The Evolution of the Arthurian Romance had mean- ;
while, praising Guingamor as "this beautiful story," indi-
14
cated that he too believed the poem to be by Marie.
I
i
j This seemingly definitive adoption of Guingamor as one I
! i
of Marie's lays prompted Alex Ahlstr'bm to prepare a French :
[language statement on the anonymous lays. While his earlier
'enthusiasm for Guingamor seems to have cooled slightly, he j
! i
still maintains that it could not be by Mane.
Il y a, a notre avis, une grande difference de style
entre Guingamor et les lais de Marie. On trouve parfois
j dans les expressions de Guingamor une certaine gaucherie, ;
!
14
Baltimore, Gottingen, 1923, p. 184.
26
1 qui nous revele 1'auteur comrae un homrae moins accoutume
; a manier la plume, que ne l'etait Marie. Mais par
contre il y a dans Guingamor des passages d'une naivete
prenante et beaucoup de ce sentiment mystique qui
characterise les vrais contes de fees, mais dont les
; vers bien polis de Marie ne gardent que de faibles
! traces. Nous sommes certain que Marie n'aurait pas au
ecrire de tels vers comme Guingamor 38-54 (ou il y a
peut-etre un reminiscence de Tristan), 333 et suiv. et
i 497 et suiv.15
[Ernest Hoepffner, in his fairly unfavorable review of
jWarnke's new edition, seems much less favorable to Guingamor
i
than Ahlstrom:
■ Si les raisons linguistiques et metriques ne s'opposent
! en effet pas a cette attribution, il. y a des raisons i
I d 1ordre litteraire qui nous empechent de l'admettre ou
qui nous obligent du moins a faire a ce sujet de fortes
reserves.1®
ILi^e Ahlstrom, Hoepffner fails to enumerate many of the
I
jliterary criteria on which he would refuse Marie’s author-
I '
ship. i
! i
| That the objections of Ahlstrom and Hoepffner were in
t
vain is demonstrated by the fact that the next important !
; l
studies of the Breton Lay considered Guingamor to be !
i
Marie's. S. Foster Damon's significant "Marie de France, i
! Marie de France et les lais narratifs (Goteborg,
'1925) , p. 31.
16
Neophilologus, XI (1926), 142.
j 2 7
Psychologist of Courtly Love" not only included Guingamor
among the genuine lays but also reinforced the notion of the
universality of the basic situations by citing Japanese ana-
: 17
jLogues to the clothes-stealing and other episodes. Erich
Nagel's Marie de France als dichterische Personlichkeit
hemonstrated again that in purely technical terms (rhymes,
etc.) only Guingamor of the anonymous lays could be by
| ]^Q
Marie, and Nagel himself favored the attribution.
Ernest Hoepffner had the last word, however. In
1931, he published an article on the anonymous lays in which
through a series of verbal parallels he attempted to show
that Guingamor (as well as all the others) were plagiarized
from the lays of Marie. Many of the parallels seem too much
like standard phrases or mere descriptions which happen to !
I i
fit in analogous situations; few if any of the parallels
I
Contain one word, phrase or image so rare or personal that
! !
one could be sure of its belonging to a particular creation j
I I
rather than the stock phrasing of story-tellers. Hoepffner !
! i
: i
also adopts a modification of Foulet's attitude: that since!
Marie invented the literary form of the Breton Lay (which
17PMLA, XLIV (1929), 968-996.
Erlangen, 1930, p. 28.
’ Hoepffner, unlike Foulet, believes originated in Celtic folk
!
'materials), all anonymous lays must be mere imitations, with
1 19
the possible exceptions of Cor and Graelent.
I Four years later Hoepffner published the first and only-
book length study of Marie, in which he does not mention
■ 20
’ Guingamor. This book, combined with his earlier edition
21
of Marie's lays, firmly established Hoepffner as the lead
ing expert on the Breton Lay. His definitive opinion on
i
Guingamor apparently became accepted, since twenty years
I
passed before Guingamor was seriously reconsidered.
In 1953, George V. Smithers revolutionized the study
of the Breton Lay by considering without prejudice most of
I
'the distinctly narrative lays in both Old French and Middle :
I
'English, and determining from their basic story-patterns i
jthat they all are drawn from a stock of tales common with
i 2 2
jthe sources of most of the longer courtly romances. In
i
I
I
1 19
j "Marie de France et les Lais anonymes," Studi
jMedievali, IV (1931), 1-22.
20
Les Lais de Marie de France (Paris, 1935).
21
| Marie de France, Les Lais, ed. E. Hoepffner
i (Strasbourg, 1921).
22 i
"Story-Patterns in Some Breton Lays," Medium Aevum,
XXII (1953), 61-92.
’ I
29
his consideration of Guingamor as in his treatment of most
i
'other lays, Smithers does not make any particular value
.judgments about the age, authorship, or artistic merits of 1
Guingamor as opposed to its closest analogues; rather he
merely notes that Guingamor, solely on the basis of its
narrative structure and the narrative structure of its
*
closest analogues, represents a significant reworking of the*
fairy mistress materials.
The following year, two German scholars presented what
1
jis essentially a restatement of Hoepffner's position.
I
Stefan Hofer even requotes most of Hoepffner's verbal paral
lels between Guingamor and Marie's lays, but he extends his
claims for both verbal and narrative parallels to include a
Considerable number of the twelfth-century courtly romances:
jthe nephew-uncle relationship is supposedly from Tristram, j
!the chess game from Ogier le danois, the white boar from
(
i i
Erec's white deer, the deserted castle from C'hrestxen's j
23
i Perceval, etc. Hofer's claims remain unsubstantiated: he,
I I
Ifails to demonstrate that there is, for example, anything j
junique about the uncle-nephew relationship in either
i
23
; Stefan Hofer, "Kritische Bemerkungen zum Lai de 1
iGuingamor," Romanisc'hen Forschungen, LXV (1953/4), 350-377. :
I - ,
i 30
Tristram or Guingamor which would lead us to connect these
I
two particularly, and beyond this, Hofer never seems to con
sider that, granted his parallelisms, perhaps both stories
drew on common source materials. As a result of this,
Hofer necessarily dates Guingamor after 1190 when, as he
tees it, the author of Guingamor could first have read
Perceval.
Rita Schober re-presents Hoepffner's more literary
i
.criteria for considering Guingamor not by Marie: Marie
i
seems always to be most interested in idea and motivation
rather than in incident, and in Guingamor the major stress, ,
Jschober states, is on adventure for adventure's sake, any
moral or psychological probing of the characters being in
|
24
jfact absent. '
i '
! That same year as Hofer1s and Schober1s articles, Erich
i
yon Richthofen published his edition of Guingamor as one of ‘
|"Four Lays of Marie de France" (vier altfranzosische Lais
I
der Marie de France). The reviews of his edition were
junanimous in condemning his inclusion of Guingamor, in one
i |
1 24
j "Kompositionsfragen in den Lais der Marie de France,"
i Wissenschaftliche Zeitschrift der Humboldt-Universitat,
Berlin, IV (1954/5), 45-59. :
31
case stating that Guingamor was artistically inferior to
25
Lanval, and in another specifically citing Hofer's article
26
as proof of Guingamor's inferiority. Benkt Wennberg in
his 1956 dissertation on "Marie de France and the Anonymous
Lais," dismisses Guingamor in a paragraph by again citing
* 27
Hofer's "proof" of its standing as a late imitation.
Cesare Segre revived the same verbal parallels in 1957
in an article designed to prove that both Guingamor and
2 8
Graelent were copied from Marie's Lanval. Segre really
adds no new proof to the argument: he(merely reiterates that
because Guingamor seems poorly motivated and Graelent more
gauchej that the "splendido Lanval" must be the prototype.
I
The prejudice and illogic of Segre' s argument were attacked
[ i
by Jeanne Lods and Erich von Richthofen. Lods points out ;
J |
ithat all three of the lays are made up of "themes egalement'
i
!traditionnels" and therefore may not be necessarily !
25
M. Dominica Legge, Modern Language Review, L (1955),
1572. !
i 2 6
Karl Maurer, Romanischen Forschungen, LXVII (1955/6),
‘404. [
I 27
| Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of
I Pennsylvania, 1956. j
i 28 :
"Lanval, Graelent, Guingamor," in Studi in onore di (
I Angelo Monteverdi (Modena, 1957), pp. 756-770.
! 32
| 29
jborrowing from each other she tries to distinguish
■between the authors of the three lays in terms of their pur-
i
ipose;
i
I Le vrai sujet de Lanval n'a pas ete traite par 1'auteur
I Graelent, encore moins par celui de Guingamor. ...
Ainsi chez Marie, comme chez ses imitateurs, comme chez ;
i tous les conteurs medievaux d'ailleurs, il y a contamina- '
j tion de motifs venus de toutes sortes de traditions,
I ecrites ou orales, mais pour elle il s'agit en outre
, d'utiliser les themes empruntes en vue d'une fin unique,
I elle sollicite au besoin la tradition pour rendre propre '
! a servir son dessein. Chez les deux anonymes il y a des
themes empruntes, parfois a Marie elle-meme, common on
I l'a demontre il n'y a pas un sujet. Dans Guingamor il
ne subsiste plus rien de ce qui est essentiel a
l'histoire de Lanval, dans Graelent meme, 1'ordre des
episodes modifie, certaines additions injustifiees
faussent completement la perspective du recit.
I
Von Richthofen questions the true meaning of the more simple
1 and awkward style of Graelent and Guingamor:
, ici, on peut bien se demander si le fait que le style i
! et la psychologie de Graelent et Guingamor nous semblent I
plus na'ifs que dans Lanval prouve necessairement
1'anteriorite de celui-ci. C'etait precisement a
I'epoque de Marie et de Chretien que les formes d'expres-j
sion poetique etaient en plein developpement vers j
1'apogee, un certain declin n 1apparaissant que dans le j
genre des chansons de geste. Vu de 1'angle de la J
stylistique historique, la "na'ivete prenante" dont ■
Ahlstrom nous parlait au sujet de Guingamor n'est done j
! pas toujours le signe d'une oeuvre d'epigone; elle ^q
i pourrait receler une forme archa’ ique de la legende.
29
Romania, LXXIX (1958), 131-135.
30 ✓ f
Cahiers de civilisation medievale (Poitiers), III
(I960), 370-371.
This view was echoed by A. J. Bliss in his introduction to
an edition of the Middle English Sir Launfal, in which he
places Marie's polished, Arthurian version as perhaps later
than the rougher^ anonymous versions of the story like (
n 31 '
Graelent. !
i
1 in Harry Williams' article on "The Anonymous Breton !
Lays" he merely cites Schober and Segre as having proven
32
Guingamor to be anonymous.
j The most recent treatment of Guingamor appeared in an
I
anthology entitled The Anthropologist Looks at Myth; Dell
i
Skeels's article, "Guingamor and Guerrehes: Psychological
!
Symbolism in a Medieval Romance/" contains a translation of ,
Guingamor into English,, but the critical substance of the
'article is concerned entirely with the Guerrehes episode in '
33
The First Continuation of Chrestien's"Perceval".
Guingamor is only presented as background material, as col- j
lateral evidence of relationships and incidents alluded to !
in the Guerrehes episode.
i 31
Thomas Chestre, Sir Launfal, ed. A. J. Bliss (London,:
I960), pp . 16-31.
! 32 ;
: Research Studies (Washington State University),
XXXII, ii (June 1964), 76-84. j
33
Melville Jacobs and John Greenway, The Anthropologist1
hooks at Myth (Austin, Texas, 1966), pp. 52-83. i
! We find, then, that no one has made a thorough and
i
jcareful literary analysis of Guingamor. Many critics have
I
'expressed opinions on the authorship or merit of the poem,
'but these opinions— both the perceptive and the patently
f *
fatuous— have not been substantiated by any thorough or
'impressive range of examples cited from the text itself.
I
I
| Furthermore, the methods of approach employed by many
j
'of the critics seem feeble if not specious. For example,
i
;the four major critical assumptions behind the verbal-
Iparallel device used by Hofer and Segre seem erroneous:
! 1. The use of such a device should presuppose that the
critic has a good idea of the dates or the order of
precedence of all the works to be considered, yet ;
none of the works in question in some of these !
<
articles can be dated with any great accuracy— i
! i
j though very tentative dates suggested by editors
t
have been honored as facts at times— and therefore j
i
we cannot justly say which is more likely to have
borrowed from which on these purely factual ,
grounds.
2. There seems to be a latent assumption, then, that
some chronological hierarchy can be deduced from a 1
35
hierarchy of excellence, i.e., that the author who
makes the best use of a line or scene must have
made the first use of it also; this is patently
false since most great authors— Chaucer, Shakes
peare, Cervantes, and Rabelais, to name a few
obvious examples— have made liberal use of classi
cal, traditional, and currently novel materials and
have most often transformed and "bettered" their
sources.
3. A further assumption suggests that there is some
thing basically better about complete originality
than there is about the utilization of some liter- ■
ary work as source material, since both Hofer and
Segre seem to be, asking us to ignore as fraudulent
those works which they contend have borrowed lines
and scenes from other works. This assumption is j
distorted both because it fails to deal with the j
possibility of intentional allusion through quota- j
tion, and further because it fails to admit that 1
i
the lines or scenes in question might— and do— have
different meanings, so that two similar scenes,
whether copied or original, might be equally j
; 36 '
! brilliant and ingenious by virtue of the different,,
I
t
! subtle meanings they imply.
}
I 4. Even worse than this assumption that "general"
I
i standards favor originality, is the tacit assump-
i
!
j tion that the Breton Lay as a genre— i.e., the
I
authors and milieu of the Breton Lays— prized total
i
i
: originality. The refutation of this assumption
| will be one of the chief objectives of the follow-
i
ing chapter, but suffice it to say at this point
j that given the unusually large amount of duplica- t
tion in names, motifs, incidents, and phrases among
Breton Lays in general, and.even among the lays of
Marie herself, one ought to consider the possibil-
i ity that, regardless of more modern trends of crit-'
i
1 icism which may favor total originality, perhaps ’
j
the audience of the Breton Lay demanded at least a ■
token amount of formulaic traditionalism, or per-
i
haps the very art of the Breton Lay consisted of ,
1 playing variations on standard and well-known 1
1 1
materials. 1
The criticism on Guingamor has been unsatisfactory,
then. The following chapters will attempt to rectify this,
37
I
ifirst by reviewing the nature of the genre in order to
‘ decide which critical approaches might be best to use, and
then by applying these methods to a comprehensive and
detailed analysis of Guingamor and its four analogues.
CHAPTER II
THE NATURE OF THE BRETON LAY
A significant difficulty in the appreciation of the
Breton Lay lies in an understanding of the nature of the
terms "Breton" and "lay." Much of the confusion and dis
agreement between critics has arisen from variant interpre-
I
itations of these basic terms rather than from a genuine
argument about the values of the poems themselves. The dis-
; 1
I
^agreements usually seem to result from a failure to allow or
I
consider all of the available evidence in order to establish
i
I
;the Breton Lay as a genre with some specific and some gener
al characteristics which are useful as guidelines in liter
ary analysis. As early as 1891^ Bedier made this assessment
i !
1 (which is still valid for our own day) of the composition of
J
the battlefield of Breton Lay criticism:
Ce sont des celtisans qui reprochent aux romanistes de j
ne pas savoir l'irlandais ou le corniquej des romanistes
qui blament les celtisans d'ignorer le vieux franqais, ,
et des folk-loristes qui remontrent aux celtisans
39
' et aux romanistes 11 ignorance ou ils vivent des prin-
[ cipes de la litterature comparee.
jln the following study we shall try to insist on an un-
f
prejudiced review of all evidence.
i
j It has been clearly established that the term "Breton" ■
I '
in the twelfth century was used indiscriminately and care-
i
ilessly to refer to any inhabitants of either the British
(
■Isles or the Brittany area of northern France, and hence no '
precise or even likely inference can be made from the word
alone.2 Furthermore, the poems claiming to be Breton Lays,
made by and about Bretons, also range in locale freely from
i
Edinburgh to Nantes, and in fact suggest a certain homogene-
'ity of culture among the Celts at this time (about the !
equivalent divergence in language and custom between western
United States, southern United States, and England today).
I
I
iSome of the references to the performances of Breton Lays
■specifically cite Irish, Welsh, or Armorican performers, |
• !
i i
again suggesting that either the Anglo-Normans could not j
i
[tell one Celt from another, or that in fact the term
I !
I
^Joseph Bedier, "Les Lais de Marie de France," Revue ;
des deux Mondes, CVII (1891), 847. <
, 2 1
Alfred Ewert, introduction to Marie de France, Lais,
pp. xiv-xv.
; 40 ■
I
l"Breton" refers to any Celt or Celtic thing, regardless of
j
Jits country of origin. Therefore, we must adopt this
i
broadest assumption unless some more positive evidence
appears.
i
: The term "lay" has been satisfactorily established as a
I
I
linguistic derivative or analogue of the medieval Irish word,
laidh (also spelled laoi, laoid, etc.), which was glossed in
the eighth and ninth centuries as referring to the songs of
birds, but in twelfth-century literary texts the word is
clearly used to denote any song— natural or man-made,
3
instrumental or vocal, with or without words. An alternate
! 3 . .
1 Rudolf Thurneysen gives the appropriate information m
his book of etymological studies Keltoromanisches (Halle,
J1884), pp. 103-104. His conclusions are accepted by Warnke ,
jand Ewert in their editions of Marie's lays, and by Ernest ‘
Hoepffner in his chapter on "The Breton Lais" in Roger S.
■Loomis' Arthurian Literature in the Middle Ages, a Collabo- 1
irative History (Oxford, 1959), pp. 112-113. The objections I
Of the Oxford English Dictionary to this derivation seem
poor to me; they reject it because the conjectured Primitive
Celtic root of Laid would not yield lay if itself introduced
iinto Old French, but since the term is first used in Old |
French in the mid-twelfth century, it seems reasonable to J
! suppose it represents the twelfth-century Anglo-Norman's i
pronunciation of the mid-twelfth-century spoken version
'of this word in some Celtic dialect. Unfortunately, experts
!on Anglo-Norman such as Mildred k . Pope do not treat the
^interesting issue of the Anglo-Norman pronunciation of
borrowed words, especially not the relatively few words
borrowed from Celtic languages.
theory, proposed by Ferdinand Wolf, would derive both the
•term "lay" and the thirteenth-century musical form called
I
lai or descort from the liturgical Latin sequence and its
4 '
Middle High German name leich. Although leich does serve
as the German translation of the Old French word Lai, our
, I
, , I
notions about the etymology as well as the musical origins
have now been entirely reversed, so that the most recent
expert to study the matter in depth, Jean MaiHard, con
cludes that "nous sommes en droit de nous demander si la
, 5,
sequence et le lai n 'ont pas une commune origine celtique."
i
We have, then, as an etymological definition of the Old
French word lai, something quite as general or as particular,
'as the modern English word song.
This definition would seem to be substantiated by the
1 I
early usages of the French term. It is sometimes associatedj
fiber die Lais, Sequenzen und Leiche (Heidelberg,
1841).
i
i
"Le lai lyrique et les legendes arthuriennes,"
Bulletin bibliographique de la Societe Internationale
Arthur ienne, IX (1957),, 124-127. Among others who support
Maillard's conclusions are Theodore Gerold, La musique au
Imoyen age (Paris, 1932), p. 208, and George Reaney, "Con- j
■cerning the Origins of the Medieval Lai," Music and Letters, '
XXXIX (1958), 343-346. 1
with the song of birds,^ and is used in many passages refer
ring, literally or figuratively, to man-made music which 1
varies from the clearly wordless to the possibly semi-
7
narrative song. The acceptance of this definition leads us
toward two important conclusions: that references to the
I
performance of lays must be interpreted cautiously from con
text to determine, if possible, the nature of the song being,
sung or played, and that, since the term lay would seem to
be as inclusive as the term song, we cannot assume an arbi
trary or sharp division between lyrical and narrative lays,
i
;t'here being no such sharp division obvious in many songs.
i
j Of those passages which refer to lays as some human
! |
artistic product, there are two large categories: (1) those,
I
i i
^descriptions in poems other than Breton Lays which mention !
I
i I
jthe performance of a lay by some character, and (2) those |
i 6ln addition to the passages quoted by Godefroy and by ;
Tobler and Lommatzsch, we might add this passage from
jpartonopeus de Blois (Paris, 1834), 11. 31-34. j
1 Li rosegniols ses lais organe
Qui del canter adies s'ahane;
Li rosegnols dist sa camjon,
Et nuis et jors en sa saisson.
7
( Hoepffner cites the most important references in his 4
chapter on "The Breton Lais" in Loomis' Arthurian Litera- '
ture, pp. 112-113.
descriptions and explanations in Breton Lays themselves
which seek to establish the source or mode of composition
of that particular lay.
Many of the references from this first category will
prove relatively useless in establishing the nature of the
Breton Lay because they do not contain any element which
would positively exclude the possibility that the work
being performed was purely instrumental, vocal but essen
tially lyric, or vocal but essentially narrative. For
I
example, Chrestien de Troyes tells in Erec et Enide,
11. 6131-37
Et cil qui el vergier estoient
d'Erec desarmer s'aprestoient,
et chantoient par contanpon
tuit de la joie une chanpon,
et les dames un lai troverent
i que le Lai de Joide apelerent^
i mes n'est gueres li lais saiiz.
Now, since it was already mentioned that a song was sung
(about Erec's triumph, what is the difference between the
8 ‘
"And those who were in the grove hurried to help Erec j
take his armor off, and they sang lustily [or, 'in order to
jcelebrate his deed,' or 1 in a two-part musical arrangement']
[a song all about The Joy [of the Court], and the ladies com-.
:posed a lay which they called The Lay of Joy, but it could
jhardly be the [well-]known lay." Chretien de Troyes, Erec
let Enide, ed. Mario Roques (Paris, 1955), p. 187. ■
chancon and the lai? Why do just the women compose the
I
lai? One might assume that the lay was not a song, since
*
Chrestien apparently differentiates between the chanpon and
1
,the lai, or that, like the chanpon de toile, the lay was a
I
form of ladies' poetry, but neither conclusion could be well
9
sustained by the slight evidence. Nor is there any detail
which conclusively establishes that the Lay of joy was sung,
played instrumentally, spoken in prose or verse, or, indeed,
performed at all, since Chrestien merely says that it was
i
pomposed.
i
< j
Perhaps the best example of the slight value of these
I
references is the early thirteenth-century romance of Ans^is
'de Carthage, which is preserved in three manuscripts.10 For
the passage in question, one manuscript reads:
! Li rois seoit sor un bufet d'argent;
! pour oblier son desconfortement j
^ Faisoit conter le lai de Graelent. '
| (11. 4975-77) I
i
9 '
It is interesting in this context to consider the j
passage in the pseudo-Boron Merlin which forms the frame for?
the second of the Portuguese Lais de Bretanha (see below); 1
here again it is ladies composing and performing the lay, ■
and if the Portuguese text be accepted as a valid transla
tion of the lost French original, the lay must have been j
accompanied by a dance. ■
10Anseis von Karthago, ed. Johan Alton (Tubingen, !
1892).
; 45
Another manuscript reads:
i
Li rois seoit sour . j. lit a argent;
, Pour oublier son desconfortement
; Faisoit chanter le lai de Graelent.
The third manuscript reads:
! t
Li rois s'assist sor .j. palie d 1orient; |
Por oblier som desconfortament !
Fasoit soner .j. de Tristam vorament !
Quant se parti de isode oltre son talent.
Clearly, either the scribes or the performers (or both) felt
free to alter details, and in this case we have an opportu
nity to see that the alterations can involve an entire
I
reversal of meaning. Apparently The Lay of Graelent was
sometimes told as a story and sometimes sung as a song, and ■
! the "one" (one what, the careless scribe has omitted) about 1
Tristam, while it was played on an instrument, had either :
| I
jenough narrative words sung with it or commentary spoken
before it so that the story of Isolt's decree of banishment
'against Tristam was understood.
i I
; i
I Even if these references do not provide us with any
Iconclusive proof as to the exact nature of the Breton Lay,
i
I
they are still valuable in that they provide us with a j
functional image of what the Breton Lay might possibly have
'been. From the number of references to lays and Breton Lays
}
;in mid- and late twelfth-century French literature, we are |
I --------
46
forced to conclude that some musical compositions called
I
'lays and often associated with Celtic performers were popu-
i
lar at that time. We must also conclude that lays were both'
spoken and sung, and sometimes merely played as musical com-
1 j
I
positions; but in almost every case, a specific narrative is
I
'closely connected with the lay, either through its title 1
which recalls a well-known narrative,^ or through some
! 12
means of narration, spoken or sung.
: The explanatory references within narrative lays them-
jselves have been subjected to frequent scrutiny and much '
i
arbitrary misinterpretation. Often, relying on very tenuous
I
dating or value judgments of poetic quality, the information,
tendered in all of the lays except those twelve commonly
: I
ascribed to Marie de France has been rejected as a spurious :
imitation of Marie's prologues and epilogues. Because of (
ithis, I will treat the Marie lays separately first.
|
I The information about Marie's lays can be stated fairly
I I
! i
i i
■ ii
i A typical example of this is the reference to the '
performance of the Lay of Orfeo by a mechanical golden 1
!statue in Floire et Blancheflor, ed. Margaret pelan (Paris,
1956), p. 103.
12
The classic example of this is the Lay of Guiron |
which iseult performs in Thomas' Tristan, ed. Wind (Geneva, ;
'I960), pp. 93-94.
simply. Each of the twelve lays has for its opening and
i
'closing lines a formula explaining that now the narrator is
going to relate a story from which a lay was made3 and then/
at the ending., that this was how the story happened and
either (1) someone made a lay about it in order to memorial-
i
ize the incident, or (2) soon everyone found out about the
I
[incident and they made a lay about it. There are several
■important variations or additions, of course. In most of
the lays, Marie says specifically that the Bretons made the
,lay, but in four cases, she does not. In Chaitivel and
Chevrefoil this is undoubtedly because she envisions the lay
as having been written by the protagonist, who in the former
'case is Armorican and in the latter Welsh, so that in effect
l
j I
jthese two lays are still of Celtic origin as far as Marie is
i i
[concerned. In the case of the other two lays, Yonec and j
|Milun, I see no reason to doubt that Marie knew Breton
i
(i.e., Celtic) Lays of these titles; both are situated in
Celtic territories and deal with motifs familiar from other
i
i
i
Celtic narratives. It seems likely that Marie omitted the 1
jword Breton simply for artistic variation, and no further j
iconclusion about the Celtic origins of the lays can or
I
i should be made from these four omissions.
; A further variation is in the precise terminology used
fto describe the relationship between the lay and the verse
narrative Marie is writing. In every lay Marie identifies
her ultimate source as a lai, but she usually speaks also of
the story of the lay, 11 aventure d'un lai, which she has
heard and will now tell, e.g. Laustic, 11. 1-2: "Une
13
aventure vus dxrai,/ Dunt li Bretun fxrent un lai." in
Fresne and Guigemar, Marie supplements the term aventure
with the term cunte, in Eliduc she specifies aventure,
!
icunte, and reisun, and in Milun she uses the term sermun to
describe the prose narrative connected with the lay. The
i
precise nature of the relationship between the narrative and
the lay is specified in several cases and implied in most
others; the story explains the circumstances surrounding
jthe composition of the lai or gives the true facts about the
ancident on which the lai is based. For example, the open- |
> i
ing lines of Chevrefoil: I
I
Assez me plest e bien le voil 1
I Del lai que hum nume Chevrefoil
! Que la verite vus en cunt ;
[E] pur quei il fut fet e dunt. '
(11. 1-4)
i
i
I
' 13
! Marie de France, Lais, ed. Alfred Ewert (Oxford, ■
,1963). All further references to Marie's lays will be cited
from this edition by a line number in the text.
49
I
Nowhere does Marie make any statement which proves con-
I
clusively the nature of the lais she had heard. The con-
I
eluding lines of Guigemar make it plain that the lais were
musical, and were performed with a harp and rote, but simply
1
because Marie does not mention any singer singing words, we
t :
cannot assume that there were none. The opening lines of
Equitan seem to say that she had heard a lay recited, "oi
I
cunter," but perhaps the usual aventure or cunte is under
stood; again in Chaitivel there is some suggestion or speak-
i t
ing in connection with the lai when (1. 232) it is anunciez, .
»
but failing more precise knowledge of the performing customsi
of the day and some assurance that Marie was using the terms
in their precise and proper meanings, we cannot definitely
i
14 '
conclude this. !
I ' '
I
j One other notion which Marie definitely does convey is .
|that there existed a considerable controversy about the
Breton Lays in her own day. She repeatedly assures us that
t
ishe is retelling the true version and that everything she
14
I am indebted to a note penciled m the margin of
William Nitze1s copy of Marie's Purgatoire (which is now in i
ithe library of the University of California at Los Angeles) '
jfor the observation that Marie uses together here also words;
'implying oral sources and words implying written sources. ;
jsays is true. Now that in itself can easily be dismissed or
I
.categorized as a common topos; many medieval fiction writers
15
claim that their works are true. But Marie seems to press
the issue somewhat beyond mere claims of historical author
ity. In the opening lines of Fresne she seems to indicate
by the phrase "Sulunc le cunte que jo sai" that there were
[several or at least one other version of the Fresne story
current. in Chaitivel and Eliduc she indicates that some
' 16
people still call these lays by an alternate title. This
seems to suggest that the performers of Breton Lays must
have worked competitively for court favor3 each claiming (in
I
addition to artistic merit., one assumes) the value of
I t
igreater authority (i.e., authenticity), and that thus rival ,
| <
versions appeared. There is also a possible ring of pride
i 15 I
Ernst Curtius, European Literature and the Latin I
'Middle Ages (New York, 1953), pp. 80-91. In addition to the1
jclaims made by pseudo-historical works such as Wace!s i
jhistories, the romances of Troy and Thebes, or the religious
works of someone like Hroswitha, we find also a tendency of i
'romance writers to connect their works with historical j
I '
! figures (e.g. Floire et Blancheflor1s assertion, 11. 8-10, j
that Blancheflor was the mother of Berte, the grandmother of
Charlemagne) and of fabliaux to claim truth in order to make
^heir message seem more impressive.
i 16
It is curious to note that ironically Marie specifies
:the name Guildeluec ha Gualadun for her lay and Eliduc for j
.the rival lay, yet all modern editions persist in calling ;
■her lay Eliduc.
lin the particular handling and interpretation behind the
I
;claim of "truth."
Marie’s role in the Breton Lay as a genre cannot be
I
iestablished with more certainty even if one wishes to accept
I :
!her own testimony as valid. In the prologue to her lays s'he:
I i
says (11. 23-42, 47-48):
I
i Ki de vice se volt defendre
: Estudier deit e entendre
! E grevos ovre comencier:
: Par [ceo] se puet plus esloignier
E de grant dolur delivrer.
Pur ceo comengai a penser
De aukune bone estoire faire
E de latin en romanz traire;
Mais ne me fust guaires de pris:
I Itant s ’en sunt altre entremis.
| Des lais pensai k ’ o'! aveie;
' Ne dutai pas, bien le saveie,
| Ke pur remambrance les firent
| Des aventures k'il o'irent j
• Oil ki primes les comencierent
E ki avant les envexerent.
Plusurs en ai o‘ i conter, ;
Ne[s] voil laisser ne oblidr;
Rimez en ai e fait ditie,
Soventes fiez en ai veillie. ...
M 1entremis des lais assembler,
Par rime faire e reconter.17
17
"He who wants to defend himself from vice should
istudy and persist and begin difficult work; by this he can
Iput himself farther off from error and deliver [himself]
jfrom great sorrow. Because of this, I began to think about ;
;making some good story and translating from Latin into
jFrench, but it would hardly have been of value to me: so ;
many others have undertaken it for themselves. I thought
about the lays that I had heard; I doubted not, well I knew
1 One should state first that this whole prologue is so
I
i
replete with topoi that it might well be entirely a rhetori-
i
I
ical exercise or invention. But even assuming that it con
tains some personal accuracy, critics do not agree on the
i
I
interpretation of the lines. The standard interpretation of
\
'these lines is that, unless Marie is mistaken or consciously
( lying, as Foulet suggested, no one before had rendered lays
i
^nto French verse, and that therefore Marie herself must
have begun writing them down, thus creating the genre as a
part of French fiction. This interpretation rests, however,;
entirely on the assumption that Marie meant to imply by the
juxtaposition of lines 32 and 33 that while people were
|
writing romances they were not writing lays; she does not,
I
i i
!in fact, state in words that no one had previously written 1
1 ;
;such lays, but merely says that she knows the lays were j
i
originally written as reminders (which stresses the moralis-
|tic overtones that Marie indeed inculcates in her lays) and |
:that they made them as reminders of the adventures that they(
heard, they who first began them and who sent them forth. !
Many of them I have heard told, and I do not want to neglect
them nor forget [them]. I have rhymed them and made a poem;;
often times I have stayed up at night over them. . . . I
jundertook to gather some lays together, to do them into
rhyme and retell [them].
53
I
that she would not want any of these moral tales to go
I
untold. The passage seems to imply most of all that there
i
was something "unavailable" about the lays as it was (else
why would she bother to work on them?)— either that they
were not being retold with the proper didactic spirit, or
that they were not commonly heard or perhaps able to be
understood by most other people even though Marie herself i
had heard (and presumably understood by one means or
,. , 18
janother) many.
I
t
I
18
In this connection it is interesting to refer to the
,Old Norse translation of this passage in the Strengleikar:
"Oc fyrir ]oui ihugada ec at gsera nokora goda sogu oc or
Volsku i bokmal snua. at ]pat mastte flassta hugga er flasstir ;
mego skilia. en liod }?au er ec hasvi hceyrt er gor varo i :
isydra Brastlande af ]pasim kynlegom atburdom er i ]pui lande
jgasrduzc, £a likade mer at snua oc odrum segia, ]?ui at ec i
fhafda mioc morg hceyrt ^au er ec vil at visu fram telia. Oc
iengom glceyma af ]piu er ec ma minni minu a koma. ..."
("And for that reason I decided to compose some good tales,, ,
and to translate from Welsh into Latin; then I might be able
jto comfort most people, since most people can understand j
i[that, i.e. Latin]. But the lays which I have heard which 1
! were made in Brittany concerning their wondrous adventures j
jW'hich occurred in that country, [these] it was pleasing to .
|me to translate and to tell others, since I had heard very !
jinany which I want to retell in verse. And [I want] to for- 1
^et none of those which I can bring to mind. . . .")
, While the translator seems to be mistranslating the i
>only French original of this passage which is still extant
| (and it seems likely that his source would not have been ouf
'extant manuscript since his text of several lays seems to
(have been abridged), he clearly indicates that the originals
were in a Celtic language and then specifically cites French
54
i This favors equally two opposed possibilities: that,
i
on one hand, Marie merely gave new life to an extant genre
by stressing in her lays the moral meaning of each story
I
i(which perhaps resulted in some improvement in quality of
her poetry or tightening of narration), or that, on the
'other hand, Marie knew about some oral tradition which was
generally unknown, and in rendering it available to the
French-speaking populace she established a new fictional
i 19
form. Unfortunately these two possibilities are left
i
equally alive by Denis Piramus' reference to Marie as a per-
! !
’ petrator of untrue, secular lays, since she is mentioned
i
again among other writers of popular fiction; the fact, how-1
ever, that only Marie is mentioned as having written lays
: i
l(as distinct from "cuntes, chanceuns e fables" or a "roman"
I
j ;
such as Parthonope de Blois) tends to support the notion of ,
her as a seminal figure in the establishment of the lay as a'
Brittany (sydra Breetlande" regularly translates Marie's
"Bretagne la menur," cf. Guiqemar, 1. 25) as the locale of ;
the origin of the lays. Of course, the Norse translator |
might not have known. |
19
Most critics seem to agree that, on the basis of the
mishandling of the few Celtic words Marie does use (e.g.,
padding the French article "I1" to the Celtic "ahstic"), she |
probably did not know any Celtic language well. j
French narrative genre.
t
The references to the Breton Lay in lays other than
Ithose by Marie provide no surer evidence. As Foulet, and
i i
critics for and against his stand, have well demonstrated,
none of these other lays can be definitely shown to precede
( i
Marie's lays, and all but a few of them contain no sugges
tions about the nature or origins of the Breton Lays, which .
i ;
'either adds or contradicts any significant point of Marie's
claims. Both the major exceptions to this point, Tvolet
and Lecheor, are usually impugned as late and false imita-
21
tions of Marie's lays. Tyolet claims that the adventures
i
■of Arthur's knights were taken down by scribes at Arthur's
jcourt in Latin, and then were translated (presumably later)
i
i
|into French and then from these French versions the Bretons
1 j
made lays. This recalls Robert Biket1s assertion in Cor that
the story of that lay was obtained from an abbot; it I
also suggests that the Tyolet author was familiar with both j
I
Latin and French Arthurian romances as well as with French |
I
20 '
Denis piramus, La vie Seint Edmund le rei, ed. 1
Florence Ravenel (Philadelphia, 1906), pp. 58, 11. 35-56.
I i
I
21 i
i These two lays have been edited only by Gaston Paris ;
in his "Lais inedits," Romania, VIII (1879)’ , 40-50, 64-66. !
'speaking Bretons who were currently composing some Arthurian
I
'lays. It is usually pointed out that Tyolet seems poorly
put together and that the two halves are obviously two
adventures analogous to adventures in Chrestien1s Perceval,
the Dutch Lancelot, Thomas' Tristan and a variety of other
f
^long romances, and hence probably drawn from these long
i ;
■romances. This assumption is false, however, since (1) many
of the supposed inconsistencies and plagiarisms might well
be the fault of the erratic scribe of MS. S, e.g. the sup
posed re-introduction of the hero at 11. 417-418, (2) the
^adventures are not copied exactly, and in fact have some
;
distinctive characteristics not in the romances, e.g., the
transformation of the stag into the knight, and so it seems >
i
likely that Tyolet and the romances share a common source i
jWhich might as’ well be a Breton Lay, and (3) the fact that J
Jthe Tyolet author or his Breton informant might have been
Jfamiliar with some of the longer romances does not neces- !
sarily detract from the validity of Tyolet as a genuine
Breton Lay, nor from any specific point of information 1
I
.offered in the poem. Tyolet, then, should serve to remind
,us that apparently Breton Lays were still popular and were J
!
istill being performed at the time that the Arthurian matter
jand the long romances were also becoming popular, and that
I 57
I
•for a time many Breton performers might well have attempted
to gain popularity by adapting their songs and stories to ;
Arthurian settings, and, indeed, might even have borrowed
jfrom the popular new romances.
j The Lay dou Lecheor begins with a long introduction
yrhich seems to imply that lays were composed and performed
22'
publicly at something resembling the annual Breton pardons. ,
i
But since this lay is basically comic and bawdy, its
authenticity and reliability are usually questioned.
i
Again, I would object that its comic and sexual elements
should not necessarily place it either late or speciously
in the Breton Lay canon (Marie's lays are not devoid of
humor or sex, and surely the Bretons must have had some
t
Jtotally comic songs), and in fact I would argue that the
j ;
jdescription of the pardon should be seriously and carefully >
i !
■considered since the main joke in Lecheor would be absolute-;
,ly silly and pointless if the audience did not know and !
: 22
i A full description and discussion of the pardon can j
be found, among other places, in Lewis Spence's Legends and j
Romances of Brittany (London, 1917), pp. 378-380. Four
times a year, on certain saint's days, all the Breton people
travel to one of the four Breton capital cities for a huge
•fair at which there are traditionally song and dance con- \
tests. Lecheor suggests that the lays were prepared for
'exhibition at just such a fair. j
accept the basic premise of the pardon situation on which
it depends.
Whether we accept or reject the Lecheor and Tyolet
testimonies, however, we are left with four premises which
cannot be rejected on the basis of any of the evidence
1
presented so far: (1) that some musical compositions called,
lais were widely popular among mid- and late twelfth-century
French-speaking audiences, (2) that these lais were often
I
associated with Celtic performers and origins, (3) that
i
i
while the lays seem to have been primarily musical, they
are almost always associated with some narrative, incident, ,
or famous person through mention in the title of the lai or
some further narrative means (words spoken or sung), and
I
|
(4) that at some time in the mid- or late twelfth century
i
ithese stories connected with the lais began to be retold in i
! I
French verse, and the Anglo-Norman poet Marie de France was I
I
jseminal in making these French verse-tales popular and '
respectable literary products.
!
We have yet two major types of evidence to consider j
before making any final conclusions about the limits of the
Breton Lay as a genre: (1) the scope of material treated in
i
:the known Breton Lays, and (2) the lyric lais of the late i
i • I
i . i
jtwelfth and thirteenth century.
59 '
; In discussing the scope of material, we must again
!
divide the discussion into categories— Marie's lays, other
I
lays extant, and other lays attested to but now lost.
, Among Marie's lays there exists a considerable variety
S 23 1
p f scope and subject matters. S. Foster Damon divides her,
I 1
lays into three categories— anecdotes, supernatural lays and
'realistic lays— but this grouping does not exploit the im-
I
portant variety of styles and materials. One of the anec
dotes is a self-sufficient story of frustrated love; the
other is a single incident dependent on the larger complex
t
of the Tristan legend, and it celebrates an (at least tempo
rarily) successful love. Two of the supernatural lays give
I
'at least a token bow to genealogies of famous Breton and
i
! :
Norman noble families, and Bisclavret contains the sugges- I
!
I i
I '
bion that the explanation of a family trait may have moti-
I
ivated this story. One of the realistic lays is clearly *
i
connected with explaining a famous tourist site^ and the
1
insistence upon naming "La Freisne" and "La Codre" in
Fresne might contain undertones of either a site or a family
name. The brief and anti-courtly Equitan might well be a
I 23
: "Marie de France, Psychologist of Courtly Love,"
'PMLA, XLIV (1929), 968-996.
| 60 .
I
Ifabliau, while the nearly 1200-line Eliduc sustains all of
the courtly ideals. Chaitivel, which is hardly longer than
the anecdoteSj barely has a plot in the traditional sense,
but falls rather in a group with "questions of love" and
other semi-lyric, semi-didactic forms.
These same variations also occur in the other commonly
i
[accepted lays preserved in French and in the Norse transla- ■
' 24
tion of the Strenqleikar. Some of the variations are
extended slightly: Strandar liod extends the associations
with famous families and sites into verifiable (and non-
I
Celtic) history; Haveloc and the fragmentary Tveggia I
elskannde (Two Lovers, but not Marie's version) seem to
I
Jextend the scenes of action beyond purely Celtic terri
tories; Lecheor plays on more bawdy aspects of the fabliaux i
i '
ithan Equitan, etc. J
I
Furthermorej if we consider for a moment the lays not
24
i Every variation occurs except,, perhaps, another lay
dike Chevrefoil which depends upon a larger, romance con
text; but we can notice among the "other" lays more stories
iconnected with Arthurian or other romance matters and we
[could say, for example, on the basis of a comparison of
Lai du Cor and the so-called Livre de Caradoc that Biket was;
telling only one incident in a greater context*, One also
wonders how many of the so-called "short romances" like the 1
two Folie Tristans might not have Breton Lay sources.
r 6 i
icommonly accepted as genuine,, we have the possible charac-
< . 25
.teristics stretched again, only slightly but significantly.
i
'conseil and Amors extend the semi-lyric and didactic nature j
j I
;of Chaitivel and Trot; Narcisse and Aristote extend the ;
------------------------------------ ---------------- y -------------------------------- ,
widening theatre of action to include the classical past ^
i
'(in the first case a genuine classic, in the second case a
specious or pseudo-classic) .
The question should arise immediately, of course,
whether we are justified in considering lays like Strandar
i i
'liod, Conseil, or Narcisse, which are usually excluded from
i ,
[the Breton Lay canon because they are too much unlike
I
■Marie's lays in some important way. But an undeniable link
1
^between these questionable lays and Marie's unquestionable
i :
'lays is provided by two sources— references to lays now >
I
lost, and the Middle English lays. There exist at least a
One work which deserves specxal mentxon is the Lay du
Vair Palefroi by Huon Leroi which is invariably placed among
the fabliaux despite the fact that it qualifies for the most
'exacting Breton Lay standards except that the author sets ;
the action in Champagne. Huon says he is writing under com
mission and the commission may well have included some
locale; also he seems to have the story second-hand and not
ito have understood it very well; clearly the knight with
bis castle over the water is a Fairy King and, like Mider ;
Jin the Tochmarc Etaine, he finally manages, by loaning his ;
.horse, to win his mortal bride. ;
62
I
dozen Middle English short poems of the thirteenth and four-
I
jteenth centuries which either claim to be Breton Lays (Sir
i
Orfeo, Emare, Earl of Toulouse, Chaucer's "Franklin's
I
Tale"), are translated from known Breton Lays (Freine, the
two Launfal poems, Haveloc), are analogous to known Breton
Lays (Sir Gowther, Sir Corneus) or fall into the style and
scope easily associated with these other Middle English and
the standard selection of French Breton Lays (Sir Degare,
and Sir Cleges).26 Some of these appear to be fairly late
and greatly reworked from their French originals, but among
i
the earliest and most respectable of these English lays is
Sir Orfeo which would seem to be translated from a French
1 '
original that was probably at least related to the Lay of
j
I
'Orfeo mentioned three times in late twelfth- and thirteent'h-
i 27
century French literature. While this lay is distinctly
'classical in origins, it is also distinctly Celtic in
I
handling, and thus it provides a link between the Breton
26
The closing lines of Sir Degare and Sir Cleges are
missing in the oldest and best manuscripts, which may have
[had some Breton Lay formula. The text of eight of these
ilays is reprinted in Thomas C. Rumble's The Breton Lays in
Middle English (Detroit, 1965).
i
I 27
! A. J. Bliss's excellent introduction to Sir Orfeo
i 1 -ii. i — ■
'(Oxford, 1954) contains the text of these allusions.
; 63
1
Lays of Marie and lays of Classical or other non-Celtic
i
material which must have been assimilated by the Celtic per-'
i i
iformers into their repertories at a fairly early time and
thus became part of the "Breton" stock of tales. Further
!support for the possibility of the Classical-Breton Lay may
(
be derived from the numerous early references to classical
titles other than Orfeo in juxtaposition with known Breton
Lays, e.g. Eilhart von Oberge1s grouping of the Lay of
Graelent with the Lay of Thisbe and the Lay of Babylon, or
! 28
jhis naming a Lay of Dido m his Tristant.
! I
1 Another piece of evidence frequently neglected is the
I
!
grouping of the lays in their manuscripts. Clearly MS. S
I
1
[and MS. N were designed as collections of Breton Lays, and i
! j
’ thus it behooves us to consider as a piece of evidence that i
i
.someone at least thought that Aristote, Amors, Cort Mantel, j
^Strandar Liod, etc. were Breton Lays fit to share company i
I
with Marie’s. 1
I
I in this respect it is well to consider a list of
I
titles dating from the thirteenth century which is now in
»
the Shrewsbury School Library, and was published in 1950
1 i
i
28 1
Eilhart von Oberge, Tristant, ed. F. Lichtenstein
jj Halle, 1877), 11. 3584-85. j
64
i ^ y
iby Georgine Brereton. The list contains sixty-seven
t
I
;titles of which seventeen are clearly standard Breton Lays
;(including ten of Marie's), five more are clearly extant
musical lais, and three others contain the word lay in their
titles. Eight others correspond to titles of Breton Lays
which are alluded to as Breton Lays in twelfth and thir
teenth century texts; two correspond to Middle English poems
not otherwise known as Breton Lays but which could easily
30
.qualify to standard Breton Lay characteristics. Thus.,
over half of the works listed correspond to narrative or
lyric lays, and among the other thirty-two, eleven titles
appear to be the names of places and heroes well-known to
ilegend and romance, and the other twenty-one are either
i
'undecipherable or ambiguous; there is nothing to suggest
i
i
t
I 29 '
"A Thirteenth-Century List of French Lays and Other i
Narrative Poems," Modern Language Review, XLV (1950), 40-45.,
30
i I take no. 37 to represent some version of the Sir
Cleges story rather than Chrestien's long romance Cliges.
! No. 44 would seem to be about the Laududez whose lay is
'mentioned by Chrestien in 1. 2155 of Le Chevelier au Lion,
ed. M. Roques (Paris, 1965), p. 66. Since all of the other
recognizable titles with "lay" included as part of them
represent lyric lais, no. 21 may well represent either a
known lai such as "Lai des Amants" or the lyric predecessor ;
:of MS. S's Lay D'Amours; in any case, Lay D'Amours is
'closest to a pure lyric of any of the narrative lays.
ithat all of the titles might not be titles of Breton Lays,
i
especially since the titles are bracketed into groups of
i '
Ithree and four, and most groups contain at least one of the ’
!
known lays. It seems likely, then, to suppose that this
i
might be a list of the lays in a collection like MS. S, or a
i
ilist of the lays in a collection, library, etc. If so, two
jthings are clearly shown— that lyric and narrative lays
were considered in somewhat the same category (although the
!
;iyric lays would seem to be called "lay" in their titles
while no generic term is used in the titles of the narrative
works), and that lays concerning sites, saints, founders,
and historical kings were much more popular in the twelfth ,
, l
'and thirteenth centuries than the two or three survivors
31 i
would suggest. • •
j
: In further support of the likelihood of the conclusions
drawn from the assumption that the Shrewsbury School list is
in fact a list of lays, one might accept the observation j
that there is a very high degree of correlation between the J
31
A final word of caution should be provided by the
case of A. Monteverdi who, in "II 'Lai de N o t o n , Archivum
Romanicum, XI (1927), 589-591, seemed to "prove" that the
reference to a Lay of Noton in the Roman de Renart must be
a scribal error, since there was no other reference to
"Noton" in medieval literature. Since then, however, cf.
no. 36 of the Shrewsbury School's list.
known Breton Lays and known Breton Lay titles, and the later
Jmedieval English popular poetry represented by such things
i 32
( as the Percy folio and the Child Ballads. Some of the
i
items included in these collections, like Sir Lambewell, may
.' be just late corrupt versions of written Breton Lays, but in
l ' |
I
many other cases one is tempted to see some relationship
'between the musical source of the Breton Lay and its ballad ;
i 1
analogue. The tie between "Fair Annie" and Fresne. between
"King Orfeo" and Sir Orfeo, etc. is more specific than mere 1
I
I j
shared folk-motifs or names, but it seems too divergent to
‘ t
t
,be a mere corruption of a translation. If in fact we can
)
|suppose some correlation between "The Boy and the Mantle"
f
1 and Cort Mantel, between "Sir Collin" and Espine, between
i
"The Ballad of William the Conqueror's Landing at Dover
Beach" and Strandar liod, and indeed "The Ballad of Queen
Dido" and the Lay of Dido which Eilhart refers to, then it j
becomes pertinent to note that, like the Shrewsbury School
,list, the Percy Folio contains a good number of poems of a
historical and genealogical nature ("King Humber," i
32 1
Bishop Percy's Folio Manuscript, ed. John Hales and ;
jFrederick Furnivall (London, 1867)j Francis Child, ed. The ;
I English and Scottish Popular Ballads (New York, 1956), ■
15 vols. :
I 57
i
I"The Drowning of Henery I" etc.) as well as poems on classi-
I 33
jcal and romance themes. Unfortunately,, no conclusive
i
[proof can be offered without further decipherment of the
! i
(Shrewsbury list and preferably further ballad evidence being
i !
discovered.
I
I
There is, however, one more criterion on which to judge
the connection between Breton Lays and popular-ballad
poetry. One is immediately struck by a similarity between
the general stylistic characteristics of the Breton Lays and
;the ballads. While it is not easy to make generalizations
which will hold for all the extant lays, the following
I
I
observations do seem to be valid: (1) the lays deal with
I j
.at least nominally upper class characters, even when these
i
! I
[characters are bawdy, villainous,- etc.; (2) the lays usually
! !
jseem to be as concerned with dialogue and motivations as ■
| i
.with actions, jumping from scene to scene with only the J
slightest connectives; (3) often the lays employ a kind of j
j
symbolism centering on significant or emblematic objects, or
some supernatural expressions of natural motivation and
i
psychological reaction; (4) the lays share a considerable j
I
‘ 33
I Percy's Folio, III, 152, "William the Conqueror";
'p. 156, "Henery I"; p. 435, "King Humber"; p. 499, "Queen
iDido."
number of incidents, phrases, and names; sometimes the lays
j I
involved seem hardly related, but sometimes they are so i
i
; I
'obviously interrelated that one cannot clearly say which one
! '
particular lay, if any, was borrowing from another; and (5)
i • ,
1 «
most of the lays are framed by an introduction and a conclu
sion which usually state the title of the lay and insist 1
I
|that the story is true and worthwhile.
; None of these characteristics is incompatible with the
' 34
ballad style as we know it. The oldest ballads tend to
i
i
|
'identify most of the heroes and heroines as knights and
i '
iladies (e.g., even the two brothers of Child 49 who go to ;
school together and wrestle are called "Sir John,, " and "Sir
Willie"); the ballads tend to be written in terms of scenes
i
with dialogue and at least implied motivations and morality,!
and the action often centers on or gains climax from a
significant (or symbolic) object or magic gesture; the
ballads, when their various versions are compared, show a I
;regular tendency to disperse into plot variants with a
f
j variety of name substitutions, e.g., "Lord Randall," j
i i
jChild 12, shares with "The Cruel Brother," Child 11, and !
! 34
I For confirmation of these ballad characteristics, see
jG. H. Gerould, The Ballad of Tradition (Oxford, 1932), |
jp. 11; and M. Hodgart, The Ballads (New York, 1950). j
Edward," Child 13, the family murder and the questioning,
"What will you leave . . . ?" Also it has degenerated into
a simplified, child's version— "My Little Wee Cooing Dove,"
with a stepmother murdering a child— and a parody version
known in America as "Oh, where have you been, Billy Boy,
35
Billy Boy?" Bronson's variants give over a dozen differ
ent names for the hero, ranging from the all-purpose, stan
dard names like William and Henry to definite local corrup
tions such as an Oklahoman's "Durango"; while most of the
|older ballads do not have a formula introduction or ending,
jthis may either have dropped off as the ballad became very
Well-known, or may have been provided by a spoken comment of
it he performer. ^ 1
j
The fact, then, that the ballads share their most |
I
jimportant stylistic characteristics with the Breton Lays I
i '
confirms the oral origins of the latter and strengthens
I 35
, Bertrand H. Bronson, The Traditional Tunes of the
Child Ballads (Princeton, 1959), pp. 191-236.
I 36
i The ballads which we have in versions closer to their
lOriginal sources (e.g., several Robin Hood ballads, Chevy
;Chace, etc.) do contain this formula in the oldest copies,
jbut later versions usually drop it. Also, almost all medi-
,eval literary works of a strong oral tradition (i.e.,
ifabliaux, the tales of the Mabinogion, the Old Irish tales, !
■etc.) usually exhibit formula introductions and/or ■
conclusions. !
J /
our suspicions about a possible rapport between the two.
In conclusion, then, about the scope of materials to
be found in extant Breton Lays, we must affirm that the size
iOf a Breton Lay may vary from the slightest anecdote (not
even self-sufficient) to a most complicated romance extend-
t
! ing to a thousand lines, or slightly more, of tetrameter;
'the plot may vary from a complicated plot hinging on action
and adventure to a very simple plot hinging on some question
or didactic discussion; the action need not necessarily con
cern itself with Celtic materials or sites (although this is
certainly most common) but may deal with non-Celtic histori
cal materials, classical mythology, or adventures which lead
away from northern Europe toward Rome, or even the romantic
I I
[Orient. :
I I
i I
I I
i
The question of the lyric lais of the late twelfth and
i
thirteenth centuries provides a more ambiguous evidence, but
♦
all of it seems to point toward the conclusions above. The '
editors of the standard edition of these lais, Alfred
i j
i
!
37
The ballads would also comply with the predominantly \
English settings, etc. which form other Breton Lay char- ■
acteristics. Except for these national materials, the ,
stylistic notes hold true for the Scandinavian and other
ballads.
'jeanroy and Pierre Aubry, agree that the lais seem to have
originated or first become popular in the region of Brittany
I
around 1175. They further suppose that the music of the
! i
■lais may well be Celtic in origin and that the relationship
i
I
between the lyric lais and the narrative lays is most likely
, 1
,one in which the lais were played and sung with essentially ;
I
non-narrative words, and stories (which Jeanroy calls "la
I ’
i'raison romance'") were told with them to explain the con-
i
itext and meaning of these words, which were, perhaps, still
I
!
38
jsung in some Celtic dialect.
i
I Other scholars have tended to reaffirm Jeanroy's con
clusions. While the Celtic origins of the music cannot be ■
: 39
.proved, experts consistently affirm Jeanroy's conclusions.
! i
i
The idea of the combination of explanatory story and lyric
’ 40 i
song has been supported, among others, by Bedier, who j
cited Aucassin and Nicolette as a possible surviving example
'of a Breton Lay performance, and also this description of a :
i !
i
j 23
! Alfred Jeanroy, Pierre Aubry, and Louis Brandin, I
j Lais et descorts frangais (Paris, 1901), pp. xiv-xv. :
39
Cf. Chapter II, n. 5 above.
40
! Revue des deux Mondes, CVII (1891), 850. ,
! 72 •
• I
i
[jongleur performing in the romance Claris and Laris:
I
I La escoutoient bonement
I .I. conteor, qui lor contoit
! Une c'hangon et si notoit
Ses refrez en une viele ^
| Qui asses iert et bone et bele. i
Maurice Valency, speaking of the provengal razo (a term
1 i
:linguistically related to Marie's "reisun" in Eliduc, 1. 2) ,
■concludes that "it seems entirely likely that the jongleurs j
interspersed their musical numbers with prose recitations of
this sort in such a way as to provide an integrated program
1 42 I
of entertainment." Rachel Bromwich reaffirms previous
1 1
'observations that the prose-verse and song-story combina- !
i
tions were popular in the Middle Ages (e.g. "Sons of Usnach,"
I
I
Voyage of Bran, "Wooing of Etain," etc.) and that it is
still popular today among the Celtic people of Wales,
43
Ireland and Brittany.
! 41
Li Romans de Claris et Laris, ed. Johann Alton
(Tubingen, 1884), p. 269, 11. 9940-44.
! 42
| in Praise of Love (New York, 1958), pp. 90-91. I
would add that Dante’s La vita Nuova, which is clearly
written in an attempt to create moral and Christian facets
for the Troubador tradition, seems conclusive proof that at
least by Dante's time the Troubador songs were disseminated
jin the form of cogent biography-stories interspersed with
songs.
■ 4 3
"A Note on the Breton Lays," Medium Aevum, XXVI
1(1957), 36-38.
I I would add to this evidence the fact that Aucassin
|
’ and Nicolette appears beside the Lay of Graelentmor in its
|
manuscript, and Graelentmor also has a staff of music with !
i ~ .
I
lit, although there are no notes on it. Also, a similar
staff without notation appears with each of the lyrics of
f 9 j
■the Lav of Aristote in MS. S, another indication that song
]and story were closely acceptable with Breton Lays for the
I
i
jtwelfth and thirteenth century audience.
There is one final piece of evidence as to the nature
,of the Breton Lay: a set of five Portuguese songs of the
'thirteenth century which are labeled in their manuscript j
44 :
Lais de Bretanha. Three of them are translations of lyric
i
l_ais found in the thirteenth-century French prose romance of
i
^Tristan. The other two have been identified by Carolina de
i
!
'Vasconcellos as representing lyric lais mentioned in the
I
jprose Merlin and the prose Lancelot, but not represented by j
any lyric text in any of the French copies. Vasconcellos
considers these two to be translations also, of lost French
originals, and her conclusions are supported by William 1
! I
i
l
44 •
Carolina M. de Vasconcellos has edited the texts 1
'of these in her article "Lais de Bretanha," Revista i
Lusitana, VI (1900), 1-43. The UCLA library has a discrete!
[Copy.
; 74 '
I 45
Entwistle. This suggests that there may once have been
i
I
many more lyric lais embedded in the prose romances and that'
j
ithose which do appear may be vestigial remnants of Breton
i
LaiSj many more of which once formed the kernel around which
i
each incident grew.
*
i
| Jean Maillard has demonstrated the difficulty in arriv
ing at any positive conclusion; some of the lais are clearly
J I
, thirteenth-century compositions with exacting meter and !
rhyme schemes that favor French as the original language.46
But whether or not all of these particular lais can be :
i
authenticated fails to change the importance of their very i
appearance. They serve as another indication that people of
i
that time (from Chrestien through the thirteenth-century
[
Iprose romance writers) associated lyric songs with romance j
i !
I i
■stories. It does not seem likely that all of these songs
were composed by the romance writers who refer to them,
i
rather they must have been songs popular at that time which i
45
I The Arthurian Legend in the Literature of the Spanish'
Peninsula (London, 1925), pp. 64-75. Entwistle gives trans
lations of some of the songs and some of Vasconcellos' con
clusions.
46 :
"Coutumes musicales au moyen age, d'apres le Tristan J
en prose/' Cahiers de civilisation medievale (Poitiers), II ^
(1959), 341-353. ‘
I 75
were connected to characters and situations that were per-
t
tinent to the romances. It has always been observed that
almost all the known Breton Lays concern incidents and
'situations that also occur in one or more of the long
.romances, and that Breton Lay heroes and incidents are often*
mentioned as background information or appear in minor
capacities. This should serve to alert us to the probabil
ity that the Breton Lays and the separate incidents in the
'longer romances share common oral sources, and to strengthen
in our minds the notion that much of the origins and diffu-
I
Isions of Arthurian materials took place on the level of ;
*
j
separate incidents and oral tradition, rather than on the
i
'level of composite, literary ur-Tristans.
I
! While we have produced no single irrefutable piece of
!
!
jevidence as to the nature of the Breton Lay, we have surely .
i
collected a considerable number of items which, while some- |
I I
what ambiguous, still agree on the essential points and 1
'circumscribe together a practical boundary within which the
i i
jreal, original Breton Lay must have set. !
J Surely some Celtic songs became popular among French
!
ispeakers during the late twelfth century. These songs were :
i
(either lyrical in nature and were accompanied by a narration
| I
t
,of the story-context, or somewhat narrative in nature (like (
the English Child ballads), or perhaps both, since the term
"lay" like the term "song" could include both a lament and a;
I
ballad. The French {under the stimulus of Marie de France) j
jretold many of the stories connected with these Celtic '
hongs and called their stories Breton Lays. The variety of *
length, complication, and subject matter attests a varied
f
repertory of Celtic songs, and probably a certain degree of
jfreedom in handling the material.
| While these conclusions may seem vague and too simple
j
|to be useful, they are of the utmost importance to the lit- >
| i
erary criticism of the Breton Lays (and the longer romances j
i
i
as well, by implication), and are almost always overlooked. ,
i
When Bennkt Wennberg defines a lay as "a courtly short story
47
in verse" he is failing to consider an important aspect of
the lay— that it has its strongest roots in an oral tradi- ,
! I
Jtion rather than in a literary tradition.
In their book The Forms of Fiction, John Gardner and
!
I
jLennis Dunlap make a significant distinction between the |
48 !
Tale and the Short Story. The Tale (a fictional form with
1 i
!
47
"Marie de France and the Anonymous Lais" (unpublished
dissertation, University of Pennsylvania, 1956), p. 5.
48
i New York, 1962, pp. 28-37.
strong roots in oral tradition, the shorter form of a
Romance) takes place in a world governed by "psychological
or poetic truth" rather than physical reality, and may well
deal with magic and other supernatural phenomena; the char- ,
1
acters and settings tend to be vague in general respects but
I
I
highly specific and pictorial in the scenes when the author
must convince one of the truth of his conclusions. The
-characters are most often stereotyped and the structure
; rather loose, with major scenes of intensity and very flat,
'discursive passages between. The Short Story (a written
I
i
genre, the short equivalent of a novel or epic) deals with
rounded characters in recognizable physical reality, and is
usually more carefully constructed to build gradually and
^steadily to the climactic point, which often does not- i
i ;
jresolve the plot, but instead provides the peak of our
I
junderstanding of the characters and situations.
I
Clearly, by this distinction, the Breton Lays are j
essentially tales in verse, and cannot be judged on the j
! i
standards we usually apply to short stories. Many of the j
(characteristics of the Breton Lays are general characteris- I
.ties of oral fiction, and should be accepted as such: the
I
'use of similar names and folk motifs is removed from the 1
realm of borrowings and plagiarism, and the similarities in ;
r 7 8
i
i
phrasing between certain Lays and certain Romances become of
minimal importance, since they probably represent standard
I i
oral formulas rather than literary borrowings. Characters ■
must be expected to be standard, and the incidents they
participate in belong to them because their author says theyj
i , ;
do; so xt behooves us to reconcxle the elements in each lay :
'for ourselves, rather than search for analogues in Romances ,
ifrom which we can say they are borrowed, and therefore are
i 49
inferior to. The relationship between other oral-
[centered literature and the Breton Lays is one of interde-
I
I
pendence and they cannot be easily separated: many a Breton
Lay story must have found its way into the repertory of a
!fabliau teller or into a long romance, so when we recognize |
'a correlation between a known Breton Lay and an incident in I
49 i
! Thus it is well to note that the few textual similar-,
iities often noticed between various Breton Lays and some of j
t the longer Romances are far less significant than the fact !
'that one usually cannot find a parallel, even in similar |
incidents, between a Romance and a Breton Lay because of !
stylistic differences, but you can find a huge number of
textual similarities between the Breton Lays and other oral ;
literature like the fabliaux in which many a bourgeois is [
[called "preuz et cortois," etc. Thus the basic reasoning [
behind Stefan Hofer's elaborate attempts to show that all
[the incidents in Guingamor and Desire and other lays are |
merely copied from analogous incidents in long romances [
|seems to me to be basically fallacious, and consequently the!
["proofs," inadequate as they are, are worthless.
| 79
|a Romance we must accept the fact that they probably derived
!
from a common oral source, not from each other, and then
!
evaluate each on its particular treatment of the motif; and ,
when we recognize a tale among the fabliaux that either
'claims to be a lay (e.g.., vair palefroi) or has most of the •
'other characteristics of a lay (e.g., Du Chevalier qui
recovra 11 amor de sa Dame, or Du Chevalier ki fist les cuns
parler), we should be willing to accept the possibility that
it is, or at least closely derives from, a Breton Lay, and
r
I
[then evaluate it anyway on its particular treatment of the
i
motif. This would follow also for works of an indefinite,
I !
[semi-lyric, or didactic style which claim to be Breton Lays;
we must accept the possibility that they represent the
I
jdidactic commentary on a Celtic song of a lyric nature, or
[even a fairly close rendering of a didactic Celtic song, and
1
|evaluate them on that basis.
; The oral tradition behind the Breton Lay obviously does
not value originality of basic incident, characterization !
!
(in the sense of delineation of personal peculiarities), or
I j
Iphrasing, but rather values an interpretation of standard ,
; and basic material. In their formula introductions, part of
the "Truth" that the authors are claiming for their !
I 80 !
I
t
^particular versions is the truth of the right interpreta
tion. Thus, when we analyze a group of related lays, such
i
as the five lays of the Guingamor group, we must assume that
J
the authors made what changes and variations they made for
I
the definite purpose of changing the meaning of the story as
they understood it.
I
I
i
i
! CHAPTER III
A PLOT ANALYSIS
The five lays of "the Guingamor group" are related by
Similarities in names and plots. Both "Guingamor" and .
"Guigemar" are derived from the Old Breton name "Winhomarc'h".
|and the names "Graelensmor" and "Lanval" are derived from
i 1
equally old Breton names. Most critics have noted that m ,
j !
each lay the hero-knight is led into strange,, amorous adven-:
I
tures while disporting himself in the forest; he forms a
I
Isecret liaison with a supernaturally beautiful woman and,
I :
Ithough they are separated when their relationship is |
I I
I
revealed, the lovers are finally reunited. Despite a gener-j
! !
jal agreement on these similarities, only one critic, Edith 1
jpicker, has ever made a careful comparison of all five lays :
noting both their common elements and their points of
! Heinrich Zimmer, "Beitrage zur Namenforschung in den
altfranzosischen Art'hurepen," Zeitschrift fur franzosischen
Sprache und Literatur, XIII (1891), 1-7.
81
I 2
contrast. Unfortunately* Rickert1s one-page study in the
notes to a translation does not attempt to draw more than a ;
; few superficial conclusions or to entail any stylistic ;
interpretations of the five works. ' ■
' ■ in attempting a comparison of the five plots, I will
1 !
first outline each lay separately, dividing it into episodes
i
;and scenes, and then analyze the statistics of these epi-
I
jsodes. By the term "episode" I mean a larger segment of the
narrative which has some unity of purpose leading to an
.emotional climax, and by the term "scene" I mean a smaller
i
segment of the narrative separated from surrounding passages
by a break in time, place, or action, and usually distin
guished by a strong unity of location. Both of these divi-
i
jsions, as well as the titles I have given them for easy
I
ireference, are somewhat artificial, often introducing a
I
jbreak within a sentence or couplet which the poet has
i i
i t
'Clearly contrived for the purpose of smooth transition; but j
t j
;the terms are nonetheless quite useful for exposing the |
I I
jmechanics of composition and the differences in emphasis
!which the several authors of these lays have used.
I
i
I
2
Marie de France; Seven of Her Lays (London, 1901), I
pp. 168-169.
| 83 ;
i
i
!
Guingamor
Formula (11. 1-4, 4 lines)
The following lay is true, not someone's invention. It
is called Guingamor.
iprologue (11. 5-22, 18 lines)
! The wealthy and powerful king of Bretaingne, since he
;could not have a child, adopted his noble and handsome
nephew Guingamor to be his heir. Everyone loved Guingamor.
l Episode I, The Spurned Queen
(11. 23-134, 112 lines)
Scene One (11. 23-55, 33 lines).— One day the king went
hunting, but Guingamor stayed home because he had been bled j
I
and felt weak. To amuse himself, Guingamor went to the
i I
jcastle to play tables with the seneschal. While they are 1
I
> I
i
playing, the beautiful queen passes on her way to chapel; a i
ray of sunlight happened to be illuminating Guingamor's face
so that it catches her attention. He is so handsome that j
! i
i " .
:she falls m love with him immediately. j
i
i
i
Scene Two (11. 56-115, 60 lines).— The queen sends a
waiting-maid to bring Guingamor to her chambers. When he
i
jarrives, she asks him to sit beside her, but he does not
perceive her designs. She tells him that since he is the j
most desirable man in the country, his lover must love him j
I
very much. When he says he has no lover, the queen asks him
to love her. He answers cautiously that he does love her as
he should love his king's wife. She says she did not mean
that kind of love, but rather sexual love, and kisses him.
He blushes and turns to leave, but she seizes his mantel in
order to hold him back. The clasp breaks and she is left
holding the mantel.
Scene Three (11. 116-134, 19 lines).— Guingamor returns
to his game of tables but is so distracted that he does not ,
i
even notice his missing mantel. The queen, afraid that he ;
might accuse her to the king, sends the mantel back to him j
via the waiting-maid. He does not even notice when she puts'
!
it around his shoulders while he is playing.
Episode II— The Challenge
(11. 135-246, 112 lines)
I
^ Scene One (11. 135-185, 51 lines).— That evening while |
the hunters were boasting about their day's catch, the queeJ
says, knowing Guingamor will understand what she really 1
means, that everyone boasts of his prowess, but no one dares
i
hunt the White Boar. Indeed Guingamor understands. The
85
king says she ought to know better than to speak of the
White Boar when she knows he has lost so many of his best \
knights hunting it. Silently,, everyone goes home. j
Scene Two (11. 186-246, 61 lines).— The king goes to
his bedroom, and Guingamor follows him there. Guingamor !
kneels before him and begs to be granted a favor. The king
grants him a favor, which only then does he reveal is per
mission to go hunting the Boar. The king* unhappy, attempts;
r
to persuade Guingamor not to go, but Guingamor is adamant.
When the queen adds her entreaties to his, the king is
forced to relent.
I j
Episode III— The Hunt
(11. 247-421, 175 lines) I
I
j Scene One (11. 247-268, 22 lines).— Guingamor is so i
excited he cannot sleep all night. At the crack of dawn, he!
I
begins preparations for the hunt. The king makes him take ]
i
along his best hunting dogs and horse. Everyone— courtiers,!
I
farmers, and townsmen— accompanies Guingamor as far as the 1
edge of the forest, the women lamenting loudly.
■ I
I
Scene Two (11. 269-362, 94 lines).— The dogs are set
i
;ioose and quickly pick up the scent of the Boar. Guingamor .
alone follows them into the forest] as soon as they can no j
ilonger hear the sound of his horn, the others go home. The i
Boar gradually tires out most of the dogs, so Guingamor lets'
i
i
loose the king's chief bloodhound. Guingamor follows the
sound of the hound's cries for a while, but then he loses
;it. After wandering around for a short time listening, he ;
i ;
■again hears the hound baying and sets off in the direction
from which the sound comes. He sights the Boar and pursues
it, blowing his horn. Just as he is about to overtake it,
he looks up.
Scene Three (11. 363-396, 34 lines).— Before him stands
3
ia castle of green marble wxth a silver tower. The ivory ,
5 I
5
doors are not locked, so he enters, but finds no one at all
(
i
|inside. The interior of the castle is made of pure gold
On one hand, I would insist that the green marble has
a symbolic meaning; as in the description of prunhilt's j
throne room in Book II of the Niebelunqenlied, the associa-j
tion of natural color green with the stone marble (which is |
not naturally very green) suggests both something rich, >
strange and slightly unnatural, and also a blending of the
vital and living with the rigid and morbid. On the other ;
hand, I would like to mention that when, in the summer of
196^; I visited in Brittany the ruins of a castle at Elven 1
v^hnc'h had lain wasted for some 300 years, the walls were so ,
completely coated with moss that they actually seemed to be j
made of some green stone; could the author of our lay have 1
in mind the ruins of a castle such as he evokes in 11. 543-,
544 and 601-602?
87
linset with precious gems. Not wanting to lose track of the j
Boar, he returns to the hunt. !
I
I
Scene Four (11. 397-421, 25 lines).— At first he cannotl
hear the hound, and angrily castigates himself for dallying
In the castle when he ought to have been hunting. Then he i
I
hears the baying again, and sets off after it. The Boar
leads him to the heath.
Episode IV— The Fairy Mistress
(11. 422-570, 149 lines)
Scene One (11. 422-502, 81 lines).— There he finds a
ipool lined with gold and silver gravel, in which is bathing
: 1
I
a beautiful lady assisted by two waiting-maids. Guingamor !
'is excited by her beauty, and, wishing to make her remain
there until after he has captured the Boar, he seizes her
clothes and hides them in an oak tree. But she notices and f
calls out angrily, "Leave my clothes alone; would you want
I
it told that you had done anything as discourteous as steal J
! a girl's clothes? Why don't you stay a while; you don't j
!seem to be catching anything anyway." He gives her her '
^lothes, but declines the offer to stay. She warns him that
he will never catch the Boar without her help, and if he
i • 4
will stay with her three days, promises to give him the Boar
88 |
as a reward. He agrees. The lady dresses and the waiting- i
maid brings a palfrey and a mule for them to ride on. j
Guingamor lifts her into the saddle and they ride off.
Guingamor asks her sweetly if she would consent to be his
lover. She consents and they kiss.
i
i ;
; i
Scene Two (11. 503-532, 30,lines).— The waitxng-maid
rides on ahead and prepares the castle for a feast. She
i
makes the three hundred richly attired knights of the castle:
go out to greet their mistress. Among the throng of cour
tiers ^ Guingamor recognizes the ten knights who were lost
|from his uncle's court. Everyone greets him affectionately.,
and he is well entertained by a sumptuous banquet accompa- |
i 1
nied by the songs of pageboys and girls. Guingamor intends \
|to stay only three days^ but when he requests the Boar and
i
t
his bloodhound so that he may return home, his lover answers
that in his country three hundred years have passed and all
that he knew is gone. He does not believe her, and demands j
i
;his hound again. She says that she will give him his hound I
! I
and the Boar, but warns him that he must not eat anything
i
while in his old country.
Episode V— The Return
(11. 571-674, 104 lines) .
1
Scene One (11. 571-581, 11 lines).— His lover has the
hound and the head of the Boar brought, and accompanies
Guingamor as far as the river. Commending him to God, she
leaves him.
Scene Two (11. 582-632, 51 lines).— Guingamor finds the
■forest curiously overgrown and hardly recognizes his way.
Then he hears a woodsman chopping and seeks him out. He
asks the charcoal-man where his uncle the king is staying,
and the man answers that he does not know what Guingamor is
i
talking about, that this king has been dead some three hun- j
dred years. Guingamor tells the man who he is and gives the
man the Boar's head to keep while he goes to look for some !
i 1
other people. The woodsman thanks him.
i
|
Scene Three (11. 633-667, 35 lines).— Guingamor has now,
! i
been out riding all day, and he is very hungry. He sees a
i
wild apple tree, picks three apples, and takes a biteof j
one. The minute he swallows a bite, he becomes very old and'
weak. He falls off his horse and does not have the strength
to raise himself. The woodsman is about to go help him when
two girls appear. Gently scolding 'him, they pick up ,
Guingamor and carry him back across the river in a boat.
I
I
Scene Four (11. 668-674, 7 lines).— The woodsman takes 1
the Boar's head home and presents it to the king, telling
him the miraculous story of how he got it. The king dis-
(
I
plays the head at many feasts.
Formula (11. 675-679, 5 lines)
I
i In order to record the event, the king had a lay made
about it. The lay is still called Guingamor by the Bretons.,
Graelensmor (
}
Formula (11. 1-4, 4 lines) j
I will tell the story of Graelent as I heard it. It is'
' i
good to hear the lay and remember the music. t
prologue (11. 5-18, 14 lines) j
Graelens was so well born and so magnificent, he was j
called Graelensmor. The king of Bretaingne was waging war j
I
against his neighbors, so he was retaining many knights. 1
The king honored Graelent much because he exerted himself so|
f
much on behalf of the king.
! 91
I
!
Episode I— The Spurned Queen
(11. 19-152, 134 lines)
Scene One (11. 19-39, 21 lines). ■ — The queen had heard
so much praise of Graelent that she fell in love with him.
She calls her chamberlain and asks him, if Graelens is
really as good as they say, to fetch Graelent to her to
I
j
become her lover. The chamberlain comments that that is
quite an honor, since the queen is so lovely that even a
i
monk in Troy would have to notice her, and love her.
I
; Scene Two (11. 40-54, 15 lines).— The chamberlain goes
|to Graelent's lodgings and invites him to the queen's cham
bers. Graelens prepares himself, and rides to the castle.
Scene Three (11. 55-128, 74 lines).— The queen greets
Graelent very warmly and has him sit beside her. The queen
.speaks frankly, but Graelent speaks with a courtly formali
ty. The queen wonders why he does not make some formal
proposition to her, and finally asks him directly if he
I
already has another lover. He answers with considerable
*
courtly formality that he does not wish to have a lover
because the proper kind of love is too difficult to obtain
and maintain. Citing Cicero on friendship, he enumerates
aspects of courtly love. The queen is much taken with his
92 j
Intellectual manner and asks him directly if he will be her |
lover. Graelent refuses on the grounds that since he is a
I
sworn retainer of her husband, this love affair would con-
i
i
stitute a breach of his loyalty. Graelent leaves.
*
I
i Scene Four (11. 129-152, 24 lines).— The queen is upset
but loves Graelent no less. For some time she sends him
■ I
'
gifts and messages, but he adamantly refuses to accept or
reply. Gradually she grows to hate him, and begins to j
slander him to her husband for revenge. The king begins to
j
withhold his wages until he is so impoverished that he can-
1 i
hot even afford to travel away to fight for another lord. ;
i >
■ Episode II— The Hunt and the
i Fairy Mistress (11. 153-330,
178 lines)
i I
1 Scene One (11. 153-194, 42 lines).— What will Graelent
do now? the narrator asks. One day Graelent’s host and his j
I
wife went to visit friends for dinner, leaving Graelent at |
I |
home alone with their daughter. The girl asked Graelent to,
have dinner with her, but not wishing to, Graelent said he
had to go out and ordered his one remaining servant to pre
pare his horse. When the servant noted that Graelent no !
longer owns a saddle, the girl offers to lend him an outfit.j
jT'he embarrassed Graelent leaves as soon as possible, riding j
1
I 93~j
I
out through the town while the citizens mock him because of ■
his worn-out and cheap clothing. t
i
Scene Two (11. 195-205, 11 lines).— While Graelent |
wanders sadly in the forest, he sees a snow white doe which ,
he begins to chase, but he cannot catch her. i
! 1
Scene Three (11. 205-330, 125 lines).— He pursues the t
doe closely enough, however, that she heads him to a plain
on which there is a pool where a beautiful girl is bathing.
The girl has two serving maids; her clothes are laid in a
bower. a s soon as Graelent sees her, he forgets about his ,
I
doe; he has never seen an earthly creature so beautiful. He
attempts to seize her clothes, but the maids notice him. J
i !
The girl angrily warns him that stealing her clothes would ;
[
be a low and undignified act, and besides only the rich
mantel would be valuable to him, so why not give her her I
i
underclothes? He replies that he is not a merchant's son, j
; j
;and has no intention of stealing the clothes; he simply j
wants her to come out of the water and get dressed,. She
refuses to come out on the grounds that he would seize her, j
and insists that they are not of the same class. "I can J
wait," he replies, and when it becomes obvious that he '
I
intends to do so, she decides to get out of the water, after
, 94]
i
extracting a promise from him that he will not harm her. j
When she is dressed, he formally requests her to be his j
lover, but she refuses on the grounds that it would be j
unseemly for two people of their ranks to become lovers.
4
Seeing that she will not be persuaded, Graelent rapes her.
I
‘ Afterwards, he pleads with her again to be his lover, and
|
she decides that he makes love so well, a relationship (
I
between them would really be worthwhile after all. She
I
I
agrees to become his lover on the condition that no one will
I ,
ever be told about their affair; she will give him all the
wealth and companionship he desires, but he must never dis- ,
I
dose the source of his wealth, nor tell anyone that he has j
ja lover. She also confesses that she really came to the !
I
pool to meet him, and that she knows full well that she will
I
.suffer because of him. But nevertheless, she goes on to I
warn him again to act with moderation, and not to boast.
She says that he should remain living in his present land
i
for a year, but then he should come to live with her, j
(because she did not want to leave her country. Since it is i
This is assuming the omission of Grimes's 11. 293-294;
which appear only in the inflated MS. S and which conflict
|with the sense of the adjacent passages.
lafter the nones, she sends him home with the promise that I
I
1
she will send her messenger to him. I
i
Episode III— The Fairy Mistress i
Revealed (11. 331-502, 172 lines)
t
| Scene One (11. 331-398, 68 lines).— Graelent returns to
! I
his lodgings and sits pensively at the window. He sees '
approaching a serving boy leading a white charger loaded ;
with a large trunk. The boy stops at his house and informs
i
him that the horse is sent as a present from his lover.
■ i
Graelent joyfully accepts. The boy further reports that he
will stay with Graelent as a servant and has plenty of money
I
to pay all debts. The boy carries the trunk to Graelent's ;
room and unloads from it fine clothes and other expensive j
! I
■presents. Furthermore, he orders a feast, and sends the |
,host out to fetch any needy knights or pilgrims to attend. |
j I
.Graelent distributes presents generously to the minstrels j
!
and citizens, and many people have a wonderful time at the
1 i
! |
'feast. I
I
Scene Two (11. 399-412, 14 lines).— For the next year, J
i
i
Graelent lives happily and wealthily, winning tourneys and
I
i
visiting his lover. He is loved by everyone. I
Scene Three (11. 413-502, 90 lines).— At the annual
i
feast of Pentecost, the king holds a banquet for all his
retainers, at which he causes the queen to stand on the !
table and undress so that everyone can testify that she is '
■the most beautiful woman in the world. Everyone eagerly I
attests his consent except Graelent, who merely chuckles to
himself and remains silent. The queen notices that he has 1
hidden his face and points this out to the king as an
insult. The kind demands to know why Graelent is laughing,
;and he replies that he feels the whole affair is degrading.
Graelent suggests that the other barons just feel obliged to
I
say that they think the queen is beautiful, and for his own '
;part, he knows many other women more beautiful. The queen
demands that Graelent be forced to prove this by producing (
i
someone to be judged against herself. The king orders that
I '
Graelent be sent to prison until he produces evidence that
i |
there is a more beautiful woman. Graelent begs the king's j
pardon, but the king keeps him anguishedly in prison for a '
I
I i
whole day until the pleas of the other courtiers convince !
the king that he ought to be given a year's time to find
the girl. So Graelent is set free with the warning that if |
I
'he does not bring the world's most beautiful woman to next |
year's Pentecost banquet, he will suffer the judgment of the!
king.
I
i
i
Episode IV— The Trial
,(11. 503-654, 152 lines) i
!
i Scene One (11. 503-527, 25 lines).— Graelent returns ;
I 1
home to find that his lover's servant boy has vanished, and
j ^ '
his lover will not appear or speak to him. He sits and
mourns her loss for the whole year, until he falls into poor
health. '
i
Scene Two (11. 528-654, 127 lines) .— At the banquet,
Graelent confesses that he cannot produce the beauty,, and
submits to the king's judgment. The king demands of the '
barons that they impose a fully just punishment on Graelent !
I
who has confessed that he insulted his liege lord. Still |
i
the barons are hesitant. Suddenly a boy appears who begs
I
them to wait a while. Then two girls of surpassing beauty
appear and beg the king to hold up the trial until their
i I
I
mistress arrives. In just a moment two more maids arrive j
also asking a few moments' grace; the people agree that even,
these maids are more lovely than the queen. When the ,
mistress herself appears, the people are unanimous in pre-
' *
ferring her. she is richly dressed and her horse richly
98 j
I
[accoutered. She pleads for Graelent, noting that while he
did behave badly in that he angered the king, still he spoke;
i
truth in that there could never be one woman so beautiful .
that there would not be her equal somewhere in the world.
> i
1 »
Graelent is unanimously acquitted. The mistress begs leave ,
i i
'of the king, and departs with her maids. Graelent chases
■them.
Episode V— Reconciliation
(11. 655-730, 76 lines)
\ Scene One (11. 655-714, 60 lines).— Graelent pursues
her closely all day, but he cannot catch up with her and she
will not answer his cries. Finally they arrive at the pool-!
t
source of the forest's river where Graelent had first met |
i
her. She plunges into the water, warning him that he should.
i
I
,not try to follow her, but he does anyway. She seizes his '
reins and forces him back to shore again but as soon as she
.has let him go, he follows her a second time. The current
I
is so strong that he is washed off his horse and carried
i
'downstream, close to drowning. The maids plead with the I
!
I
mistress to have mercy on him and save him. She relents, (
I
and pulls him from the water; taking off his wet clothes and
wrapping him in her mantel, she leads him off into her j
forest. People still say that that was the last seen of ,
i
Graelent. I
i *
Scene Two (11. 715-730, 16 lines).— Graelent's horse, j
which had run off into the forest, returned to the site
i
where his master had disappeared. He neighed so loudly i
I
•that people could hear him throughout the countryside. Many
i
J
people tried to capture him unsuccessfully. For many years,
at that same time of year as Graelent had disappeared, the
sounds of the good horse could be heard at that place. 1
Formula (11. 731-736, 6 lines)
The marvel of the horse and the adventure of the knight
' I
who went away with his lover were heard throughout Britain. I
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■The Britons made a lay from it called "The Lay of Graelent- I
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Mor. " I
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Lanval, by Marie de France
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formula (11. 1-4, 4 lines) j
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I will tell you the story of another lay just as it I
happened. In the "Bretan" language they call it Lanval. ;
‘ Introduction !
(11. 5-38, 34 lines) ;
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King Arthur was staying at Cardoel because the Piets I
and Scots were invading Logres; that is why he was there ,
for the Pentecost feast. He gave rich gifts to everyone at
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the Round Table except a worthy knight named Lanval, of whom
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everyone was jealous because he was so well-endowed by
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nature. They pretended to love him, but if something had
happened to him, they would not have been upset. Lanval was
the royal prince of a distant country, so he was far away
from his vassals and relatives. All of Lanval's holdings
were spent, but still the king gave him nothing and he did
not ask for anything. Lanval is very sad about his diffi-
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culty. Lords (the narrator says), 'do not be surprised; a j
man in a foreign land without help or advice is bound to be '
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■sad. ;
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.Episode I— The Fairy Mistress
:(11. 39-193, 155 lines)
Scene One (11. 39-193, 155 lines).— One day, Lanval
went riding in the forest for diversion. He comes to a J
river in the middle of the plain, and his horse begins to
tremble. Lanval decides to stop there. He lies down and ;
folds his mantel under his head as a pillow. He is very
sad. Suddenly he glances up and sees two girls coming i
toward him from across the river. They are beautiful and I
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richly dressed, and they are carrying gold basins and
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towels. They walk directly up to Lanval, and,, calling him
by his name, invite him to come visit their mistress whose 1
'tent is nearby. Leaving his horse to graze, Lanval follows ■
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them to the tent which is more expensive than anything Queen
Semiramis or the Emperor Octavian could afford. Within it
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sits the most beautiful girl he has ever seen, dressed in
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ithe richest clothes, which she has partially removed because
of the heat. He sits down beside her couch, and she tells '
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him that she has come especially to see him, and if he :
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behaves in the proper courtly fashion, he may have more joy
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with her than any king could have. Love sets his heart
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;afire, and he answers in his best, courtly fashion that he j
,would gladly do anything she desired. They pledge them- |
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.selves as lovers, and she tells him that she will give him
;enough wealth that he can live in luxury and generosity if ;
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he promises never to disclose to anyone that she is his
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lover. If he does disclose their affair, she warns, then |
he will never again see or hear from her. He promises, and
they spend the afternoon together in bed. That evening, she
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jreminds him that she will appear to him whenever he wishes. I
; 102 ;
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They have a splendid supper together, which includes many I
'kisses as sidedishes. When they finish supper, the maids I
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lead in Lanval1s horse which they have richly accoutered.
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He sets off for home.
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Episode II— The Spurned Queen i
i(ll. 194-303, 110 lines) ;
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Scene One (11. 194-218, 25 lines).— As Lanval is ridinq
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home., he thinks over his adventure of the afternoon, and can
hardly believe it. But when he arrives, he finds new ser
vants and wealth at his lodgings with no apparent explana
tion. Lanval generously expends some of his good fortune to
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all needy people in town, and is all the more happy to find ‘
: that indeed his love does come to him whenever he wants. |
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] Scene Two (11. 219-303, 85 lines).— Around the Feast of
Saint John, thirty knights were enjoying themselves in a
garden beneath the queen's tower-bedroom. Walwain comments
that it is a shame that Lanval is not with them, so they j
.fetch him to join their games. The queen was watching from j
the tower window with three maids. She noticed Lanval and
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watched him. She decided to go down to join the men, and |
summoned thirty of her ladies in waiting to accompany her. j
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The ladies and the knights all paired off except for Lanval 1
103 j
who withdrew to one side, thinking of his lover, with whom f
he longed to be. The queen goes and sits beside him and
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offers to become his lover. Lanval replies that it would be
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dishonorable for him to betray his sworn lord in such a
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manner. The queen angrily accuses Lanval of being stupid I
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jand homosexual. Lanval angrily retorts that these charges
tare untrue, and that the real reason he spurns her is that >
he does have a lover, a girl more beautiful than any Lanval ■
has ever known, whose poorest handmaiden is more beautiful !
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[than the queen, and more polite.
Episode III— The Accusation
:(11. 304-414, 111 lines) !
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Scene One (11. 304-331, 28 lines).— The queen rushes to
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her rooms, weeping, and vows to make the king take revenge j
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■ on Lanval. When the king returns home, the queen kneels at '
his feet and tells him that Lanval asked her to be his j
.lover, and because she refused, he insulted her by claiming |
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that he had a lover whose poorest chambermaid was worth more
than the queen. The king angrily swears that if Lanval can-f
not prove his boast in court, he will have him hanged or ;
burnt. The king sends three barons to fetch Lanval. I
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Scene Two (11. 332-358, 27 lines).— Lanval sits in
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his lodgings pensive and anguished because he realizes that
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he has lost his lover by revealing their secret to someone. [
He cries out to her, begging her at least to speak to him, !
but there is no answer. He weeps, sighs, faints, curses hisj
stupid mouth, and otherwise punishes himself so much that it!
is a wonder that he did not die. The barons arrived and 1
told him that the queen had accused him and he was summoned :
before the king. Lanval follows them sorrowfully towards
court, wishing that they would kill him.
Scene Three (11. 359-397, 39 lines).— Lanval stands j
before the king silent and sad. The king addresses him J
insolently as "Vassal" and repeats the terms of the accusa
tion. Lanval denies that he had behaved badly toward either!
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his king or queen, but insists that his lover and her maids ,
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are as beautiful as he claimed. He humbly submits himself i
,to the judgment of the court. The king angrily calls to- |
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gether his men and demands that they decide what ought to be
done with Lanval, so that there can be no question of injus-1
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tice later on. The men comply, some gladly and some reluc-
tantly. They decide that Lanval should have a formal trial [
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before the whole court (not just themselves) and that
105 |
meanwhile he should be released only on the bond of pledges.|
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The king agrees to their decision, and demands a pledge fromj
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Lanval, but he has no friends or relatives. Walwain, how- 1
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ever, offers himself and his men as a pledge for Lanval, and
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they depart for Lanval1s lodgings. 1
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I Scene Four (11. 406-414, 9 lines).— Walwain and his 1
knights reprimand Lanval for his behavior, and have to
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'return to his lodgings daily to make sure he is eating
properly, and that he does not commit suicide.
Episode IV— The Trial
(11. 415-641, 227 lines)
, Scene One (11. 415-641, 227 lines).— On the trial day, '
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'the pledges presented Lanval before the king and queen and I
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assembled court. Everyone felt sorry for him, and, the j
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narrator says, I think some hundred of them were doing all ;
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in their power to have him freed. The king presents an
laccusation and turns the case over to the barons for judg-
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ment. They are quite sad about the case, because on one !
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hand they feel sorry for the foreign noble Lanval who is
alone in a strange land, and on the other hand they feel j
they must convict him since his lord has accused him. The
count of Cornwall points out that even though a vassal above
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all owes dedication to his lord, the offense is hardly a I
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grave one, and there would be no case at all if the accusor i
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were not the king himself; he further recommends that Lanvalj
have his lover appear at court to substantiate the terms of ;
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Lanval's reputed insult. When the knights ask Lanval to do
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this, however, he replies that he is sure the lover would
not come to stand warrant for him. The barons still hesi- j
tate although they now know no help is soon likely to arrive
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and even though the king continues to press them for a
verdict. Just when the barons are finally about to render a
verdict, they see two girls approaching on handsome pal-
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■freys. They are so beautifully dressed and beautiful that j
everyone gladly stares at them. Walwain points out the
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girls to Lanval and asks if one of them is not his lover,
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but Lanval replies that he does not know them. The girls :
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;ride up to King Arthur's dais and, dismounting, ask him to |
.prepare a silk-curtained room for their lady who will be
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iarriving shortly. The king politely arranges to have them j
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shown to suitable rooms, and then returns angrily to the 1
■barons and demands a verdict without further delay. The j
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barons claim that because of the arrival of the girls, they
have made no decision yet, and return to their delibera- I
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jtions. Suddenly two well-dressed, beautiful girls riding I
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Spanish mules come riding along the street. Ywiens rushes j
to Lanval and asks if these might not be his lover, but
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again he answers that he does not know them nor love them.
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Again the girls ride up to the king's dais and request :
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suitable rooms for their mistress, who is coming to speak
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with him. Again the king has them taken care of (although
their mules are not officially taken away), and then turns
to the barons to demand a verdict, since the queen is get
ting angry at being kept waiting for so long. They were
ijust about to decide, when the most beautiful girl in the
world came wandering down the street on a noble palfrey,
which was also the most handsome and well-accoutered in the
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world. The girl's dress was laced up the sides so that her
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bare flesh showed through. She had light brownish hair
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and flashing eyes. She wore a cloak of royal purple, and f
carried a falcon on her wrist. Everyone in town turned out
,to stare at her. Lanval's friends rushed over to him to
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•inquire if this might not be his lover. Lanval blushes and |
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cries out that indeed it is. Now, he says, he does not care
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what they do with him unless she will have pity on him, for ,
only by seeing her will he be saved. The girl approaches j
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the king's dais and, dismounting, lets her mantel fall so 1
^that everyone can see her even better. She addresses the j
| 108
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king with great moderation* stating that she has been j
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Lanval's lover and that now she has come to defend him in |
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court. She guarantees that Lanval did not proposition the j
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queen„ and concludes that as far as the boasting goes, he
should let the barons decide. The king grants the barons j
■the right to decide, and they unanimously agree that
Lanval's boast was justified. As soon as the judgment is ;
rendered, the girl leaves, and no one can stop her, though j
many tried. Lanval mounts on the stepping stones used by
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the armoured knights to get on their horses; when the girl
rides by, Lanval leaps onto the horse behind her and they
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ride off together to Avalon. J
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Formula (11. 642-646, 5 lines) !
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The Britons recount to us that he was taken away by j
the maiden to an island that was very beautiful, and no one
ever heard of him again. Nor do I, the narrator says, know |
!any more to tell you about it.
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Desire
Formula (11. 1-6, 6 lines)
I intend to retell the story about which people
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living at that time made a lay as a reminder. It is
109 !
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!"The Lay of Desire," who was noble and prudent. !
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prologue (11. 7-95, 89 lines) i
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In the area of Scotland called Calatir, near the White i
Heath, across the sea which is so great, there is the Black ,
Chapel that they say is so beautiful. Once a vassal of !
the king of Scotland lived there, a knight who was much
honored and held many possessions. His wife was a noble 1
woman and they loved each other, but they could not have
ja child together, much to their sorrow. One night the wife
said to her husband that she had heard about a saint's body
in Provence which was reputed to perform miracles for the
faithful who made a pilgrimage there. She begged her
husband to go there with her and pray for a child. The
husband agreed and they crossed the sea to Saint Giles,
where they prayed and gave offerings to the silver statue, j
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When they were returned home, the wife became pregnant, and |
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they were both very happy. When a son was born to them, j
they called him Desire, because so long a time had passed
before they had prayed to Saint Giles for the miracle. The !
child grew up to be a handsome lad, and at the proper time j
they sent him to serve the king. He learned willingly about
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the forest and river, arid the king grew to love him. When 1
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'he was dubbed knight., Desire traveled across the sea to
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Normandy and Brittany, where he was widely loved and praised
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by the French. He' stayed there for seven years, participat-j
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ing in tournaments and other knightly activities. Then he
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ireturned home, where the king richly rewarded him, and all j
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•the people praised him for his beauty and valor. He always
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^tayed with the king at Calatir, but by the order of his |
father, he went to visit his mother at the beginning of
■summer.
Episode I— The Hunt and the
j Fairy Mistress (11. 96-257,
162 lines)
Scene One (11. 96-117, 22 lines).— On the fourth day of
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’ his visit, he got up in the morning and dressed himself in j
rich clothes brighter than April flowers. He ordered his j
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mantel and spurs and his good horse, for he wanted to go ,
■out riding for amusement. He was handsome anyway, but
,looked even better when mounted on his steed. He stood up
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;in the stirrups and spurred the horse forward. He rode out j
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through the town without any companions.
Scene Two (11. 118-133, 16 lines).— Near the White
Heath, he sees the white, flowering trees and hears the
.birds' songs, and is excited. He rides on into the Heath
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where lived a hermit that Desire used to visit when he went 1
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horseback riding as a child with his father. He decided to '
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try to find the hermit's chapel.
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Scene Three (11. 134-174, 41 lines).— As he rode toward
jthe chapel, he looked up and saw a girl dressed in rich, !
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’ grey clothes. She was beautiful: her hair hung down and
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she wore no wimple. She stood barefooted in the dew near a
'spring that arose beneath a nuge tree. She held two golden
basins in her hands. Desire dismounted and greeted her in a
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'courtly fashion. He wants to make her his lover, so he lays
her down on the wet grass; I think, the narrator says, he
must have been near her, when she cried out that he should
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not dishonor her body. She promises that if he does not j
rape her, she will introduce him to her mistress, the most |
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beautiful virgin in the world. She warns him that if her
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mistress is pleased with him, he will lack no comfort or joy’
in this world, but that if she is not pleased, he may never
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jescape. Further, she promises that if he does not like her
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mistress, then she will make love to him, and that in any
case, she will aid him someday in great need. Desire
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decides to accept her offer. ■
Scene Four (11. 175-202, 28 lines).— The girl leads him'
to her mistress who is seated in a bower on a costly couch. 1
The girl steps to one side and tells Desire to go ahead and
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take what he wants. Isn't, she says, my mistress the most |
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beautiful person you ever saw? Her lovely complexion, her
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laced sides, her fine hair: such beauty was never born. Go;
ahead, she says; there is no need to hesitate. Desire gives,
his horse into the keeping of the maid and starts to apr
proach the girl.
Scene Five (11. 199-247, 49 lines).— But as soon as the
girl notices Desire approaching, she leaps up and runs away
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Jinto the thickness of the forest. He pursues her, catches
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up with her, and seizing her hand, begs her most politely !
.to become his lover and promises to serve her faithfully.
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She curtsies to him and accepts his offer of love service. j
They spend a long time together there in the forest, making
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[love. When Desire is ready to leave, the girl tells him j
ithat he may speak to her or visit her at any time as long as.
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he behaves properly and maintains his knightly standards. j
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She gives him a ring as a token of her faith, and warns him !
that the ring will be lost, along with her love, if he acts
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badly. They kiss good-bye and he rides away.
113 |
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Episode II--The Fairy Mistress
Revealed (11. 248-336^ 89 lines) ,
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Transition (11. 248-272, 15 lines).— When Desire j
arrived home, he did many good and generous deeds; he gave j
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more gifts in one month than the king did in six. He went
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back to the forest to visit his lover frequently. They werel
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lovers for such a long time that she had a son and daughter,
but she did not tell him about them. One time the king went1
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abroad and took Desire with him. When they returned from
'abroad, Desire went to Calatir but spent only one night i
there before journeying out into the White Heath in search
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'of his lover. j
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: Scene One (11. 273-300, 28 lines).— On his way to their'
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trysting place, Desire happens upon the hermit's chapel
, which he had sought in vain earlier. Since he is not sure
when he might find it again, he decides to stop and visit
5
At this point appears a 26-lme passage m MS. S
which, like several other shorter embellishments, has no
^counterpart in the Cheltenham manuscript copy or in the
Strengleikar translation, and therefore has been regarded as
another interpolation by the MS. S scribe. The passage
tells how, when the king's forces are besieging a foreign
castle, Desire challenges and jousts with the lord of the i
castle, and, eventually defeating him, turns him over to the.
king as a vassal. Could this episode be an analogue to |
the Sir valentine episode in Thomas Chestre's Sir Launfal?
the hermit for a brief while to be shriven. He enters the
chapel and confesses all his sins to the hermit,, including J
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his affair with his lover. The hermit gives him the proper ;
penance to do and blesses him. As Desire reaches for the
reins when remounting his horse, he notices that his ring is;
!gone. He thinks that he has lost it.
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; Scene Two (11. 301-336, 36 lines) .— He quickly rides oni
to the trysting place to tell his lover about the ring. He
waits at the trysting place all day, but she does not appear;
■or speak to him. Finally he cries out to her, begging her
to appear, pleading with her that he meant no wrong by tell-
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,ing the hermit about her. He promises not to do the penance'
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if that is what is offending her. When he sees that she
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jwill not answer, he curses the hermit, his tongue, his |
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horse, etc. for having participated in losing him his
mistress.
Transition (11. 337-348, 12 lines).— When it becomes
lobvious that his pleas are to no avail, Desire returns to
Calatir and languishes for a year. He laments so much that
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everyone, including himself, considers him doomed. 1
Episode III— Reconciliation I
with the Fairy Mistress
(11. 349-480, 132 lines)
Scene One (11. 349-408, 60 lines).— But hear, the j
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narrator says, what happened to him a year later. One day
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,he awoke to find that everyone else had gone away to amuse j
Ithemselves leaving him quite alone. As he lay in bed :
sorrowfully, his mistress appeared to him. joyfully, he ;
sits up, bracing himself with a pillow. She exhorts him not
to want to die, and says that if she has been harsh with
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him, surely he deserved such treatment for having confessed
about her as if their relationship were sinful. I knew, she
says, that our relationship was over when you wanted to con-j
fess about us, because one confesses that which one hopes to
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forgo. She says that if he was thinking that she had
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bewitched him, he should forget about that, for she is from •
no evil place: she will appear at mass with him tomorrow j
!to prove it. Even though he has acted badly, she will for-
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give him because he has also loved her very much; they can i
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again meet regularly if he will refrain from going to con- !
,fession about it. Desire declares himself already as good ,
as cured, and kisses her. She goes away. He is very happy
and begins to recover from his illness. j
116
Transition (11. 409-418, 10 lines).— When he goes to I
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mass, his lover does appear beside him and takes communion. 1
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He speaks to her often enough. He is all cured, and spends j
his time as he did before. He is with the king constantly. '
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| Scene Two (11. 419-475, 57 lines).— One day the king
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and Desire went hunting. Beside a large tree, they both
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aimed at a large stag, but neither seemed to hit it. They
could see their arrows lying on the ground, so they dis
mounted to pick them up, but when they went to the spot
where they were, they seemed to have disappeared. The king
cries out that they must be bewitched. As they walk around
searching, they come upon a boy dressed in rich red clothes.!
He is a handsome child with blonde, curly hair. He holds
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their arrows in his hand and offers them to the knights in a
courtly fashion. Then he tells Desire that he is his son, 1
and that his mother has sent him to stay a while with his
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father so that they would come to know him. He gives Desire
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the ring as proof of his origin. Desire seizes the boy and
kisses him a hundred times; the king and his companions also
kiss the boy. Desire tells them all the story of his affair.
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They take the boy with them. j
117 '
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Transition (11. 47 6-480, 5 lines).— Everyone loves the I
boy, and Desire is absolutely inseparable from him. After
two months, he knew all his relatives well. I
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Episode IV— Separation
(11. 481-668, 188 lines) [
Scene One (11. 481-518, 38 lines).— One day he got up !
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and dressed himself, and mounting his hunting horse, went
before his father, who was just returning from church and
about to mount his horse. The boy tells his father that he 1
wants to go back to his mother immediately. Desire protests
that it would kill him if his son left. The boy replies
that he must go, and rides away at top speed. Desire
mounts as quickly as possible, but is still too late; he
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pursues his son all day, calling to him to stop and talk it
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lover. The boy rides on into the forest steadily until 1
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[nightfall. Desire follows him until his horse stumbles and
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crashes into a tree. !
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Scene Two (11. 519-606, 88 lines).— Desire wanders in
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the forest for only a moment before he sees a fire, which he
takes to be the campfire of some rich man who had spent the '
day hunting and was caught short by nightfall. But he finds
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only a dwarf by the fire. The richly dressed dwarf is !
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grinding pepper to put on a boar which he is roasting. |
Desire greets the dwarf politely, but he answers nothing. j
He doeSj however, hurry to care for Desire's horse and to
prepare a kind of couch for Desire from the bushes and
leaves, covered with a rich cloth. Still without speaking, :
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jthe dwarf returns to his cooking. When the meal is ready,
he brings Desire two basins of water and a towel to wash ,
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with; Desire recognizes the basins as the very ones carried
by the maid on the Heath when he first met his mistress, but!
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he carefully keeps from revealing this to the dwarf. When
dinner is served, Desire is careful to offer good portions j
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to the dwarf; the dwarf is so pleased at seeing Desire j
behave so well that he decides to talk to him, even though :
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he has been prohibited from doing so. He tells Desire that
he was sent to meet him and provide for him. Desire thanks j
him, and asks who sent him. He replies that Desire's mis- j
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tress sent him, and if Desire should so desire, he will take
him to his mistress' very bedroom. Desire gladly accepts.
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Scene Three (11. 607-663, 57 lines).— When they have
finished dinner, the Dwarf leads Desire to the castle of his;
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lover. They go to the bedroom which has only one entrance—
a window at one end. Inside the well-lit room they see two
beds on which lie two girls, sleeping. The dwarf tells |
Desire that the girls are his mistress and her sister, and
encourages him to go in. He also tells him that he will |
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recognize the waiting-maid who is sewing a tunic for the
mistress. Desire leaps through the window with both feet |
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together and lands badly next to the beds, injuring his '
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side. The noise of the fall awakens the sister who cries i
out in fear. Guards are alarmed and begin to arm them-
iselves. The maid who was sewing takes Desire by the hands
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'and leads him away. She tells him that if he is discovered ;
in that place he will be killed, and that she is helping him
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escape because of the pledge she made to him; she suggests
that if he wishes to be polite to her in return, he will
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leave as quickly as possible so that they will not be caught1
and she will not lose her job with the mistress. Desire
promises to leave quickly. They shortly catch up with the
dwarf, whom the maid beats on the chest and castigates for
betraying such a nice man as Desire. The dwarf and Desire
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hurry back to their campfire, where Desire collapses on the j
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."couch" from the weakness incurred by his wound. He feels
himself to be quite ridiculed.
| 120 ;
Transition (11. 664-668, 5 lines).— The next morninq ,
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Desire rides home,, and remains there for a long time, sorelyi
wounded. j
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Episode V--Reunion with the j
i Fairy Mistress (11. 669-761, |
■93 lines) !
Desire is so wounded, in fact, that when the king holds
htis Pentecost feast, he must hold it at Calatir and summon 1
all the other courtiers there so that Desire may attend.
•After they had all heard mass, and were seated at the
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•banquet table, ready to eat, into the hall came riding a
very rich girl on a mule accompanied by a maid who is also ■
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well-dressed and also riding a white mule. Both carry white
falcons. Everyone stares at them admiringly, for they are j
beautiful beyond compare. With them is a boy who is also j
j
ihandsome beyond compare. They stop before the king's dais, i
i
[and the older girl greets the king, asking him if he will
'give arms to the boy and proper counsel to the girl, who
'are the children of Desire and herself. The king politely !
I
grants her request, and asks her to join them for dinner. ,
I
I
She refuses, and asks if the king if he will grant her j
requests immediately, because she wants to marry Desire and
take him away with her to her country as soon as possible. 1
| |
The king orders arms brought; he himself gives the sword to |
the boy and the kings of Moreis and Leoneis who were at the >
i
banquet attach the spurs while kneeling at the boy's feet. i
When the dubbing ceremony is finished, the king announces
i
that he will marry the daughter himself since he has never
j
I |
;seen such a beautxful girl before. The two couples go to |
i i
the church and are married together; Desire was anxious to ;
marry his wife. When they return from the court, Desire's '
. 1
new wife asks leave for them to return to her country, for
|
she does not wish to linger at all. She tells Desire to
mount and come away with her, since both his son and
i
daughter are well provided for in this land, and surely will
come to visit them in their land whenever they can. Desire
!
| 1
mounts, and his wife leads him away. He apparently stayed •
j
with her, for he never returned, nor did he want to return. I
I 1
I
I !
Formula (11. 762-764, 3 lines) j
In order to remember this adventure, they had a lay j
made about it, which they call Desire.
I
Guigemar, by Marie de France 1
Formula (11. 1-6, 6 lines)
I will tell you briefly enough the stories which I knowi
are true and about which the Britons made lays. At the j
122 I
I
[ I
f |
jstart, as a beginning, I will tell you a story according to I
the letter and the writing. i
I
prologue (11. 7-50, 44 lines)
I
I
I In Little Brittany in ancient times. Hoel ruled the
.land, sometimes in war, sometimes in peace. One of his j
! I
'barons, Oridials, the lord of Leon, was a favorite of Hoel
for his valor and merit. Oridials had a daughter, Noguent,
and a son, Guigemar, who was much loved and loving. When j
his father could part with him, Guigemar was sent to serve
:a king. The boy was so clever and worthy that everyone ;
i
loved him, and soon the king dubbed him richly. Then '
.Guigemar left that court and traveled to Flanders to seek
! j
his fortune, since there was always war there in those days.
One could not find the equal of Guigemar in Lorraine, i
'Burgundy, Anjou or Gascony. But Nature had erred in him so
that he had no care for love. There was not a girl or a
'woman in the world who would not have accepted him if he had
asked her for her love. In fact, many women asked him, but
i
he did not seem to have a desire for love. Both friends and
i ' i
strangers considered him in peril because of this. ,
j 123
I
i I
Episode I— The Hunt and the
Voyage (11. 51-126, 136 lines) ;
i
i
Transition (11. 51-57, 7 lines).— He returned to his !
native land at the height of his glory. He went to visit
his family, who were eager to see him* and stayed there for ;
a whole month.
I
Scene One (11. 58-70, 13 lines).— One day he wanted to j
go hunting. He summoned his knights and his servants and
they all went into the forest. They begin to pursue a great
I
.stag^ the hunters riding quickly ahead and Guigemar and his
page boy riding leisurely behind. When everyone else is
quite far ahead;, Guigemar sees in a thicket a white doe with
antlers on her head, accompanied by a faun. When the hounds'
t *
bay, the doe,leaps out of the thicket, and Guigemar shoots j
i
an arrow at her. The arrow strikes her hoof and rebounds, j
.going through Guigemar1s thigh into his horse. Guigemar
dismounts and falls on the grass beside the wounded doe,
I 1
‘ i
who moans and speaks to Guigemar saying that because of what
he has done to her, he will not be able to find any medicine
for his wound or any way of healing it except through the
suffering of a woman who loves him. He will also have to
suffer an equal amount for that woman's love. The doe
orders him to leave her in peace. Guigemar is sorely
124 !
j f
wounded, in pain, and amazed by the strange incident with i
the doe. Further he is worried because he realizes that he !
has never loved and wonders if he will be able to find heal-!
i
ing for his wound. He calls his page and sends him after '
'the other hunters, and then painfully mounts his horse and j
rides away because he does not want any of his men to find
him or hold him back. I
Scene Two (11. 127-186, 60 lines) .— Guigemar wanders
out of the forest on a green road that led him through a
I
heath to a plain where cliffs lead down to a harbor. There ;
is only one ship in the harbor: an ebony boat with a silk
‘ I
sail that is so well made that it is priceless. But
.Guigemar sees no one around who might have landed the boat.
I
l
:He rides up to the shore, and painfully climbs onto the boat'
I
I
hoping to find someone there, but he finds no one. In the j
i
middle of the boat there is a bed of cypress and ivory
inlaid with gold. The sheets and silk with golden thread
.interwoven in it. One could hardly tell the worth of the j
; I
bedclothes, the narrator says, but I can tell you that who- i
i
ever puts his head on the pillow will never have grey hair.
The bedspread was lined with sable. Two solid gold candle- ^
sticks with lighted tapers stand at the bow of the boat.
Guigemar, amazed and in pain from his wound, lies down on
the bed for a moment to rest, but when he gets up, the boat
has put out to sea with no land in sight. The wind is swift
but gentle, and there is no hope of returning. Still in
pain, he prays to God to care for him, bring him safely to
I
port, and keep him from dying. He lay down on the bed and
went to sleep. That day, the narrator says, he underwent
i
the worst.
i
Episode II— The Rescue and
Healing (11. 187-516,
■330 lines)
! Transition (11. 187-242, 56 lines).— That evening the
^hip arrived at an ancient city, capitol of its region,
where Guigemar would find his healing. The lord who kept
ithat place was an old man who was excessively jealous of his
I
young and beautiful wife. All old men, the narrator says,
are jealous because they hate to be cuckolded; such is the
perversity of old age. He guarded his wife more than
i
'cursorily: he kept her in a garden fenced with green marble
walls, and the only entrance was constantly guarded. One
side of the castle faced on the sea, and anyone who needed
to enter this way would have to have a boat. inside the
wall, the lord had had built for his wife a room more
I 126 I
I
beautiful than any in the world. At the door was a chapel. !
inside, the room was painted with frescos depicting Venus j
showing the true way to love faithfully and serve well, and j
at the same time she is. excommunicating anyone who reads ,
!
pvid's book where he teaches that one ought to restrain
! 6 I
|one1s love, and throwing a copy of the book into a fire. ;
|This room is where the lady was kept. To serve her she had
I I
.only one girl, her niece, whom she loved very much. The
I
|girl went everywhere with her, and no one else was ever
allowed inside the walls except an old, white haired priest
I
who kept the key to the gate. The only reason he was
i
trusted was because he was a eunuch. The priest both said
mass and served meals to her. !
Scene One (11. 243-258, 16 lines).— That day, the lady j
I
and her maid went walking in the garden after lunch. They
!see the ship sailing into the harbor with no one guiding itJ
The lady is frightened, and runs away, blushing, but the
: j
l
6 '
Two of the manuscripts, H and p, apparently interpret |
"estreine" as "control" and say in 11. 223-226 that Venus |
was burning Ovid's book. MS. S omits these lines, apparent
ly by interpreting "estreine" as "embrace." The Strenglei- j
kar, which usually favors H's readings, also omits the ref- j
erence to burning. Thus Marie's attitude toward Ovid must
iremain ambiguous. I
! 127 I
maid, who was more sensible and brave, reassures her. They i
i
[go to the ship.
i j
I
Scene Two (11. 259-346, 88 lines).— The maid climbs
i 1
onto the ship and finds not a living soul except the pale, !
(Sleeping Guigemar, whom she assumes is dead. The maid j
i
5
'climbs down again and tells her mistress what she has seen,
!
'and the lady insists that they go back on the ship and, if
'the knight is dead, fetch the priest, or if he is not dead,
[try to help him. They return to the pavilion where the lady
i
gazes sorrowfully at Guigemar. She puts her hand on his ,
1 i
i
chest and feels his heart beating. At her touch, the sleep-j
(ing knight awakes. He greets her happily. The lady asks
1 i
Ihim sadly where he comes from, and if he is exiled because
of war. He replies by telling her the details of his hunt !
i j
and mysterious voyage, and the prophecy of the doe. He begs
the lady to help him leave the ship and find out where he
,
is. She tells him that this city and land belong to her
I \
;husband who is old and so extremely jealous that he keeps
her imprisoned in this garden with an old priest (whom she
I
’curses) guarding the door. Only the maid, she says, is j
I
allowed her for company, but if Guigemar would like to stay ;
I
i ' ,
with them until he feels better, they will gladly help him ;
I_______________________ I
] 128 i
and keep him. Guigemar politely accepts her offer, and with
great pain gets up and walks back to her room.
I
Scene Four (11. 347-408, 62 lines).— With the girls'
i
help, he is able to reach the room. They put him in the !
| <
maid's bed which is curtained. They bring water in a gold |
: i
basin and wash his wound and his thigh. They bind the wound'
!
1
with white linen, handling him with the greatest care. The j
lady withholds enough from her supper so that the knight can'
Jeat well. But he is struck by love of her so that he for- '
!
gets entirely his native land, and feels no pain in his
I I
wound, but still breathes with anguish. He begs the ladies j
to leave him alone to sleep, and they do so. The lady is
'also warmed by the same fires of love which burn in
.Guigemar ' s heart. <
i
| Guigemar, left alone, is pensive and troubled. He
i
!
realizes that if the lady does not heal him, he will surely j
i
i
die. "Alas," he says, "what shall I do?" He resolves to |
I
jspeak out to the lady and tell her that if she acts proud
I I
and haughty towards him, he will die of sorrow. He sighs. |
.Then in a while he decides that maybe he will just suffer it
through, for that is all he can do. He lies awake all i
might, sighing and troubled. In his heart he remembers her
; 129
i
iwords and her appearance— green eyes and lovely mouth— which1
f
touch him sorrowfully. He cries out for pity despite him- |
I
self. He almost calls her his love. If he had only known,, (
I
the narrator says, that his lady felt the same, he would
■have been happy. A little comfort would have lessened the
i '
I
■grief that was making him pale. If he suffers for love of
her, she can hardly derive satisfaction from it. |
i
Toward dawn the lady got up; she had been awake, too.
,She complains of her sleeplessness, and the maid sees from
her appearance, that she loves the knight. In order to find
out whether the knight is in love or not, the maid goes,
while her mistress is in church, to talk to Guigemar. He j
asks her immediately where her mistress is, and why she
^awoke so early. Then he sighs. "You love," she says to
i j
■him, and advises him not to hide his feelings but to be !
I
frank about them since an affair between her mistress and j
him would be quite seemly since they are both well-bred and j
i |
jgood looking. He asks her what he should do, and she j
i ■ :
promises him all her help.
I
As soon as the lady is returned from mass, she wants to
know what he has been doing, because Love is still in her ;
|
heart. She goes in to Guigemar hoping .to tell him gently J
l
and gradually what she feels. They greet each other, but j
| 130 |
1 i
both are too agitated to speak out at first. Guigemar is I
afraid that if he tells her of his love she will send him j
I
away. But, the marrator digresses, he who does not show his
i
wound, can hardly hope for it to get healed, and Love is a
i
wound, deep within the heart so that it does not show, but j
' |
it is tenacious, nonetheless, for it comes from Nature.
Some people joke about love, like the courtly peasants who |
go philandering everywhere and then boast about it; but that'
is not love, that is folly, wickedness, and lechery. If one
can find someone worthy of love, one ought to serve and love
her faithfully. Guigemar loves so intensely that he must '
i |
either have relief or live unnaturally. Love makes him ]
bold, and he discloses his feelings, asking her to become
i
his lover. She responds properly by laughing and saying
that he is too hasty, for she is not at all accustomed to !
granting requests like his. He begs her pardon, and notes
that while a professional coquette must hold back for a long
i
(time in order to make it seem as if she were not too eager,
a woman of good intentions need not behave too haughtily to ^
)
a worthy suitor, but rather if they love immediately and f
i
secretly, they will have acted much to their credit. "Fair '
maid," he concludes, "let us end this debate!" The lady I
jimmediately consents to be his lover, and they kiss. j
Guigemar is eased. They lie together speaking and kissing
and embracing., and this excess is befitting to them.
Episode III— The Separation
(11. 517-636, 120 lines)
; Transition (11. 517-524, 8 lines).— Guigemar was
i
jtogether with her for a year and a half, and they were very
happy. But fortune, who never forgets, turned her wheel and
■put those down who had formerly been up. Soon it happened
that the lovers were found out.
I
Scene One (11. 525-558, 34 lines).— One summer morning
I
when they were lying beside each other kissing, she said to I
I
him that she had a premonition that they would be separated.!
i
She laments that if he dies, she could die, too, but if they
[were discovered and he went away, he could find another love
-and she could never follow him. He assures her that he !
'could never love any other. She tells him that if he is j
I
sure, he should give her his undershirt; she ties a special
i
jknot in the shirt tails and then gives him her permission to
love any woman who can undo the knot. He willingly agrees, ■
and gives her in exchange a belt which she binds tightly :
around her naked loins. She willingly agrees to love only j
i
♦
t i
him who can open the buckle without breaking it. They seal
! 132 !
!
the bargain with a kiss. |
i
Scene Two (11. 559-610, 52 lines).— That very day they |
were discovered. The lord had sent a chamberlain to speak
to the lady, and when he found the door locked, he peeped
i i
through the window and saw the lovers. The chamberlain |
i
reported to his lord immediately, and they returned with
three servants who broke down the door. In his great rage
at finding the knight in his wife's bedroom, the lord orders^
his men to kill Guigemar, who leaps up and seizes a wooden
clothes-tree to defend himself. While Guigemar holds the i
i
men at bay, the lord demands to know who he is and how he
I
got in. Guigemar tells him truthfully about the hunt and
ithe voyage and the healing, but the lord refuses to believe,:
isaying that if this tale is true, Guigemar should make the
p
ship reappear and make his escape on it, for otherwise he
I
will be killed. They go to the harbor together to check, |
I
jand find the boat there. The lord puts Guigemar on the i
| i
boat, and it starts up immediately. Guigemar, regretting ;
1
the loss of his lady, weeps and sighs, and prays that God
should bring him quick death, if he is not destined to have
the lover he loves more than his life.
! 133 |
i
Scene Three (11. 611-624, 14 lines).— The boat returned;
I
to the exact spot where Guigemar had first boarded it. He :
i
climbs off the ship as soon as he can, and sees one of his !
old page boys following another knight leading a stallion. ,
Guigemar calls to the boy, who joyously recognizes him and ,
i ' i
offers him the use of the stallion. They ride back to
Guigemar1s home where everyone is happy to see him.
Transition (11. 625-636, 12 lines).— Guigemar, however,
iremains unhappy. Everyone suggests that he needs to get
married, but he will not have a wife who cannot untie his
knot without tearing it. This news spreads throughout
i
Brittany, and there is not a woman or girl who does not try 1
to untie the knot, but no one succeeds. I
i I
i i
Episode IV— The Reunion j
(11. 637-864, 228 lines) I
Scene One (11. 637-669, 33 lines).— I want to tell, the1
1
narrator says, about the lady who loved Guigemar. According
to the counsel of his barons, her lord has her imprisoned in
!
a black marble tower, where the nights were even worse than j
the days. No one can tell the anguish that the lady
I
:suffered in that tower. She was there more than two years ;
- - -- t
without any joy or diversion. She constantly laments her
lost love, promising him that if she can ever escape, she |
.will throw herself into that same sea over which he departed;
i
from her. in a daze she happens to go over to the door and j
I
finds it unlocked. Just on the chance that she might
r
escape, she goes out and manages to get to the harbor with- !
lout anyone bothering her. As she climbs a cliff to throw j
herself into the water and drown, she finds Guigemar's boat.
She is barely able to drag herself to the side of the boat
[and fall onto its deck.
I
Scene Two (11. 670-724, 55 lines).— The ship arrived in
I
Brittany at the castle of a lord named Meriaduc, who was j
then engaged in a war with his neighbors and had arisen J
early to see his troops off. As he stood at his window, he
!
saw the ship sail in, and, calling a chamberlain, went on -
i
board and found the lady, who in her beauty resembles a [
j
|fairy. Meriaduc brought her to his castle and provided for
■her well, making his sister her maid. He fell in love with
f
Iher to excess, but then she was excessively beautiful. Even
I
though she was very sad, he asks her to be his lover. She j
refuses, showing him the belt and explaining that she could
i
never love anyone who could not remove it without violence. ,
He tells her with irritation that there is some knight
| 135 I
; i
nearby who also refuses to love anyone who cannot undo a
knot in his shirt tail, and adds that she probably tied the t
knot. When she hears this news, she faints dead away. i
I
Meriaduc catches her and cuts her laces; he also tries to
open the belt, but he cannot. Then he summons knights from [
jail over the country to try the belt, but none of them can
open it.
Scene Three (11. 725-844, 120 lines).— So the belt
i
remained undone for a long time, until Meriaduc called a
tournament against his enemy which he was sure Guigemar
I
Iwould attend. Indeed Guigemar arrived with more than a |
!
■hundred followers. Meriaduc lodged him with great honor in
a tower. He commands his sister to prepare the lady in her
most splendid clothes and bring her before Guigemar. When J
i
the lady hears Guigemar's name, she faints in the arms of
.the sister. Guigemar rises and scrutinizes the lady, !
i i
i I
wondering it it can indeed be his beloved, and if so where |
I
I
did she come from, and how did she get here. Then he de- j
cides that it is really quite unlikely that this woman is
i
his lover; it must be someone who resembles her. So he i
kisses her politely and sits beside her without asking j
further questions. 1
Meriaduc watches them carefully, and is worried about |
their appearance. He calls to Guigemar laughingly to let ,
' !
I
the sister try to undo his knot. Guigemar grants his
I
!
request., and a chamberlain fetches the shirt, but the sister1
i
cannot untie the knot. The lady is even more agitated, for I
i !
I
(she recognizes the knot and would like to untie it but is ;
'afraid. Meriaduc perceives her anguish and asks her if she !
would like to try to untie it. She does so quickly and
easily, but Guigemar will still not believe it is she until
i
he has felt her sides for the belt that he placed there. He
joyfully asks her how she could have gotten here and she i
t i
tells him the details. Guigemar publicly announces that he 1
has found his true love, and requests Meriaduc to give her |
to him, in return for which he will swear himself as vassal ■
to Meriaduc, along with one hundred, followers, for three !
I
iyears. Meriaduc replies politely that he has no need for a j
hundred and one men for three years, and prefers to keep the i
llady. Guigemar calls all those faithful to him to mount anc
i
leave with him, and the entire assembly of knights does so.
They all pledge their allegiance to Guigemar, so now it is a
I
shame if he fails.
j 137 !
i
Scene Four (11. 845-864, 20 lines) .— They all went to |
the castle of Meriaduc's enemy who gladly received them !
because he knew they could easily break Meriaduc1s resis- j
tance. The next day they left the town with great clamor,
Guigemar leading the troops which proceeded directly to !
I i
I !
Meriaduc's castle and laid siege to it. After a while, all !
the people inside the castle starved and they took the j
castle and killed Meriaduc. Guigemar took his love away
I
with him. Now their trials were over.
Formula (11. 865-868, 4 lines)
The Lay of Guigemar was composed about this tale that
I
you have heard. When someone plays the lay on harp or rote,!
the music is good to hear. !
f
One can see immediately, even from the gross placement
1
of the incidents, that the meaning of these lays must be
different. The Spurned Queen episode precedes and causes, |
,or results in, the Hunt and the Fairy Mistress episodes in
; i
Guingamor and Graelentmor, while in Lanval, the Hunt is j
completely missing, and the Fairy Mistress appears first and
causes the spurning of the Queen. The Spurned Queen is j
entirely absent from Desire and Guigemar. so that variations'
on the Hunt and the Fairy Mistress episodes occupy the bulk
of those poems.
A comparison of the size of the various episodes
reveals a similar divergence of interest on the part of the
authors. The Trial in Graelentmor occupies only 127 lines,
I
or less than 18 percent of the whole lay; while the Lanval
jTrial takes 227 lines, or more than 35 percent of the whole
I
lay, and thus is twice the size of the Graelentmor Trial.
Suffice it to say, then, that the five lays, despite
their superficial resemblances in name and incident, and
i
perhaps their common origin in a single folk tale or myth, j
I
I
are each a distinct and separate compound of the given j
elements, and each must have a completely different meaning
because of the variation in mixture. Furthermore, even if
I !
we were to suppose that, for example, Graelentmor was a I
I
i
splicing together of parts of Guinqamor and Lanval, that layj
■still consists of such a random and differently treated
! I
i
selection of details that it constitutes a new, unique, and
individual work which must be assessed as such.
CHAPTER IV
i
i
I
A THEMATIC ANALYSIS
i
i
I
j John Reinhard in his comprehensive study, The Survival
I
of Geis in Medieval Romance,^ demonstrates adequately that |
the five lays discussed above do derive from a particular
type of Celtic tale in which a mortal man takes a fairy
woman as his lover, with one certain condition to their con-
i
tinuing love, namely what the Old Irish call a "geis": a
type of spell which either requires or prohibits a given act|.
; i
In the case of Gumgamor, the geis is against partaking j
i
:of mortal food, and in Graelentmor and Lanval against j
speaking of the fairy mistress to mortals. Desire and i
Guigemar are so far removed from their Celtic analogues that1
1
'the geasa are hardly evident at all; Desire 1s mistress neverj
forbids Desire to speak of her or visit her home or see her !
I
and her children together, the white doe speaks more in the |
i
t
1Halle, 1933. !
I
!
| 139 |
! 140 :
form of a prophecy than a curse, the magic overtones of the j
!"discovery" of Guigemar and his lover are entirely lost, and;
the exchanged geasa against loving anyone else have become
I
very physical contrivances which seem to be modeled on
2 i
twelfth-century practice with chastity belts.
i !
But even in those lays which still openly contain the !
i
geis as a tabu,- it is doubtful, as Mr. Reinhard points out, i
that the authors understood the prohibitions as Celtic
ispells. Rather, just as Chrestien de Troyes treats the
geasa and religious objects which are central to the Celtic
sources for Erec and Yvain either as ordinary human actions
i
(desires for glory or companionship, commands for silence or
, . . i
limited absence) or as the merveilleux, a mystery or magic !
ibeyond explanation (magic groves and rings, mysterious i
\
fountains and storms), so the authors of the lays either j
i
interpret the geasa in human terms (Desire's mistress's
1
indignation at being considered sinful) or leave them as j
j
unexplained magic and mystery (Guigemar's boat; Guigemar's j
^mistress's miraculous escape). I
!
i
2 j
For further discussions, see analyses of each lay :
Ibelow.
Not all of these transformations may be due to our |
I
Anglo-French authors, however. A look at the twelfth- ,
century texts of a Celtic rendition of an older Celtic taleJ
the Tochmarc Etaine, "The Wooing of Etain," reveals that thej
Irish audience apparently did not understand or held of
minor importance the pagan meaning of the story, which
!revolves around transmigration of souls and the expiation j
in one life for the wrongs committed in the previous incar-
I
nation. In the various manuscripts, the names and incidents
!
are juggled around enough to suggest that the pagan meaning,
iif known at all, was considered subordinate to the lyrical
aspects of the story, and details in the story which acci
dentally happen to sound like stock details in the twelfth- i
I
century romances (e.g., Aillil's "courtly" love affair with j
,Etain). In this last respect, it is important to note that [
one of the poems in Tochmarc Etaine contains several lines |
I
which are hostile to Christian notions of sin and morality; J
this may well mean that the references to sin and guilt ;
i
■spoken by Lanval1s and Desire's mistresses may have had a
I
specific referent in the Celtic source, and not at all be
the addition of a twelfth-century Anglo-French I
j 142
3 '
moralizer, I
: i
I But there are two other factors in the handling of •
Celtic source materials which throw even more of a burden of,
responsibility on the authors' and readers' interpretive
powers— traditional symbolism,, and the mere evocative power - j
'of the description of an incident aside from its technical
magic meaning. All of the twelfth-century artists— both
‘ Celtic and Anglo-French— would have been familiar with a
wide variety of Christian symbolism in the form of allegori-
cal interpretations of the scriptures, bestiaries, lapi-
I
daries, and the type of exempla later collected as the Gesta
There is no definitive edition or single English
translation of Tochmarc Etaine. Osborn Bergin and R. I. i
.Best present the text of the best single manuscript, with an
English translation, in Eriu, XII, pt. 2 (1938), 137-196. i
The Irish texts of the other manuscripts are edited by Ernst
Windisch in his irische Texte (Leipzig, 1880), pp. 113-133. j
A rather stuffy translation of these other texts can be
found in A. H. Leahy, Heroic Romances of Ireland (London,
|1905). Volume I, pages 1-34 contain the full translation, i
;and volume II, pages 143-161 contain an, interlinear transla-j
ition of the climactic scenes. One must read all of these tc>
'get the full sense of the variation in handling and meaning.
The best text of Mider1s anti-Christian lyric "Fair Lady,
will you go with me?" is contained in Gerard Murphy's Early
Irish Lyrics (Oxford, 1956), pp. 104-107. An even greater
sense of the similarity between the Breton Lay and the Irish
.tales can be derived from reading a number of the tales in a
book like Tom Cross and Clark Slover's Ancient Irish Tales ,
(New York, 1936); here one can see how one tale is made to ■
blend to the tradition by the addition of a brief version of
|some background tales, e.g. the variant Etaine attached to (
lthe—beginning—of-The—Destruction—o-f-~Da—De-r gaJ-s—Hosfce-1-. -------I
143- i
1 i
Romanorurn. Could anyone in the twelfth century, hearing of i
I
a person prohibited from eating, fail to think of Adam; and j
I
could anyone, hearing of the person eating forbidden fruit,
refrain from interpreting it the way it was common to
interpret Genesis, as referring to apples and innocence? !
I j
I
And it is generally agreed among Chrestien scholars that
i
I J
while Chrestien did not understand the Celtic meanings of j
his mysterious objects and actions, still he understood them
,to be symbolic and derived a meaning for them from their
very appearance and function, so that, for example, the
I
pouring of water from Laudine's fountain on a stone becomes
a breach of the castle's water rights, and The Joy of the j
i
!
Court, quite aside from its Celtic death ritual origins, is |
interpreted as a grove of death simply because Erec and many
1 4 i
brave knights face death there. So, one must assume that
when the author of a Breton Lay encountered in his source a t
magic boat, it must have seemed to him to be representative j
of just a long journey or that metaphorical long journey to
;a Christian death, rather than the means of reaching the
f
Celtic land of the fairies.
4 ^
Another obvious example of both points is Chrestien's
handling of the "grail," bleeding lance, etc. but this is
too complicated and controversial to handle completely here.
! 144
!
ThuSj it behooves us to investigate each lay carefully i
i
to find how the author felt about the material, and we must I
I
suppose that he may have intended symbolism at any point and;
i
■that he could not have helped being aware of accidental
I '
i
parallels between incidents and descriptions in his Celtic
I
I I
Isource and common Christian lore. 1
I '
Unlike any of the other four lays, Guingamor seems to
be concerned with genuine innocence and its death; appropri
ately, it is the only one of the four which is largely
i
tragic in tone.
i :
; Guingamor is the king's nephew and adopted son, both 1
i
relationships favoring his youth. The seneschal throws his ,
i
larms around Guingamor's shoulders, a sign of affection and |
^ntimacy most fitting for a young man who has been raised in
i
|the seneschal's care and knowledge.
But aside from these suggestions of physical youth,
I
;Guingamor is truly innocent. When the queen sends for him j
> |
t
■and has him sit beside her, he cannot understand what she
may want. Even after her first verbal sally against him, he
does not realize what she wants and replies simply that he j
i
;'has never had a lover (another suggestion of youth) . The
queen calls him shy and begs him to be her lover, but he
^still, after thought, thinks she means a platonic love. i
' I
When she finally kisses him,, he is ashamed and blushes,
i
. ' |
leaving angrily. When he returns to the game of tables, he \
is so disturbed and shaken by the incident that he does not i
' i
I
even notice the maid's putting his cloak back on him. His '
I |
|reactions in this incident are characteristic of immaturity
i
i
and inexperience, especially by comparison with Graelent- <
mor's courtly, rhetorical, yet knowing parries of his
queen's advances, or Lanval's momentary loss of temper which
is followed by his gaining repossession of his sense of J
^balance.
I
The queen in Guingamor is also depicted as a woman who |
I
is, if not entirely innocent, at least basically good and ;
i
^nly tricked by circumstance. She is on her way to church j
! !
when she sees Guingamor; it is only a coincidental ray of i
.sunlight that gives his face an attractive color and high-
5
ilights it so that her attention is caught. When Guingamor
i
appears before her for an interview, as it were, she is
idelicate and cautious, at first being careful to allow him
5
Stefan Hofer's assumption of a necessary borrowing of i
the beam of light on the lover's face from Tristan seems
additionally feeble because the detail grows so logically
out of the context here (Guingamor being bled, etc.). i
146
i !
I |
'to keep his lover if he has one, and then, when he has con- j
fessed his inexperience, she offers her true love with a j
gentle regard for his shyness.
i
I
Verifying this impression of the queen as basically a :
good woman appears to be a major function of the episode j
I
with the mantle. If we compare this episode with that of
Joseph and Potiphar1s wife (Genesis 39:7-20), which it cer- ;
tainly must have recalled to any Christian audience, we see
immediately that the queen is quite the opposite of the !
lecherous wife. Potiphar's wife has pursued young Joseph
day after day despite his refusals; she seizes his clothes
first, before her bald request, "Lie with me!" and as soon
■ 6
as he has fled, leaving his shift in her hand, she calls
the men of the house and accuses Joseph on the spot. The '
queen's behavior differs in precisely the points that make j
the wife seem most cunning and evil. This is the first timej
;the queen has spoken to Guingamor, and she begins with ‘
The Biblical suggestion is that Joseph in the hot I
'Egyptian climate was wearing only one garment, so that he '
fled naked; thus Joseph's "garment" would provide much more
likely, incriminating evidence for a charge of rape. If we 1
could assume that the northern, ahistorical medieval mind J
had understood this, we might assume that this is another t
'example of the author's conscious modification of details toi
decrease the sinful implications of his incident.
L
147
I
rutmost politeness and delicacy; she graps his mantle only j
when he has first shown his anger, confusion and shame— j
i
!
reactions not wholly justifiable by courtly codes of the
(
I
Middle Ages— and she grasps it in an attempt to hold him !
iback presumably to "explain things" to him as she had done ;
! '
'twice before when he responded in an ingenuous rather than
'a courtly fashion to her discreet— by courtly standards— |
proposals. Her first reaction after Guingamor's flight is
not one of malice towards him, but rather of concern for her
husband; she fears that Guingamor will gauchely tell his
I
uncle what has happened and thereby cause unseemly scandal
by publicly indicting her of attempted adultery. The pawn
I
|in their relationship is the cloak, which she could use as
Potiphar's wife did— especially since, as a good Christian, I
.she must have known the Genesis story— but she chooses not
to; she sends the mantle back to him, presumably as a token :
I
of good will, as a formal rejection of the role of
7
|Potiphar's wife.
I
But Guingamor is too nervously preoccupied to realize l
iWhat is happening, and consequently he does not reply to her
i
7
A similar set of observations could be made concerning
the Phaedra-Hippolytus affair, but the medieval audience 1
would be less likely to have that story in mind.
igesture, so that she must assume that he still holds a ;
f
grudge against her— and unjustly by her standards. The signj
to the audience of Guingamor's intrinsic goodness and his ,
i
I
possible "education" to a fulfillment of the chivalric code,
i
Jis the fact that he does not consider accusing her to the |
1
•king; but she cannot know that, and therefore she must j
I
'attempt to get rid of him in order to insure his silence and
prevent future blackmail, thus protecting the seemly stand- ■
ing of the queen of the realm and the welfare of the whole
j
jkingdom.
The means she chooses to be rid of him again under-
i
scores her basically kind nature. She could, like Guinevere
in Lanval, attempt to degrade him to criminal status, or
I
.like the queen of Graelentmor, dishonor him by general
i
slander; but instead, she chooses to challenge him to j
! !
attempt a glorious feat which, especially considering his
inexperience, will probably end in his disappearance, but
|which will, in any case, place his name among the "best ten I
I
8
'knights" who have attempted the feat before.
8 1
By medieval standards (cf., for example, Chaucer's
"Knight's Tale") the glorious death while engaged in fitting
deeds would have been an honorable, seemly, fulfilling ;
,destiny. |
149
This carefully constructed conflict between two basi- |
t I
cally good people who are brought into a crucial, destruc- i
tive pass by circumstance— the ray of light— and minor flaws'
,in behavior creates much of the tragic tone for the open- j
ing of the lay. ;
i ;
Guingamorj with genuine immaturity— i.e. a lack of
knowledge and experience of the dangers involved, reckless
self-confidencej— plays along with the queen's calculating
challenge and attempts the foolhardy hunt. The long de- '
I ;
■scription of the hunt exudes an atmosphere of confusion and
I
excitement which must mirror Guingamor's delight in the
.'hunt— a mindless delight to a large degree * it would seem,
for he is still— despite his uncle's warnings about the
I
|tragic legend, his aunt's connivings, and the people's j
i I
■laments— thinking to catch the boar.
The agitation of the chase adds, by contrast, even more1
feeling of serene calm to the description of the deserted
jcastle. This unearthly, impossibly costly yet undefiled
■ '
palace with no living soul in it, with the "jewels of (
‘ paradise" (1. 391) forming its walls must represent Death
'for the twelfth-century Anglo-French author as surely as the
castle was an "otherworld" dwelling in Celtic legend. Yet I
JGuingamor's reaction to this phenomenal mystery is again |
150
an immature response, for he fails to comprehend the j
possible implications or results of the situation; he is
actually happy because he thinks he has found merely a good
i
I
story to tell back home, and he still assumes blindly that 1
i
he will return. It is only after he finds that he has lost I
i t
I ;
',the boar's trace that he first realizes the whole affair may,
'go awry and he may not be able to return at all; and even !
this realization he expresses in a charmingly juvenile ;
'fashion— by ranking the fabulous green marble palace of
I
i
Death as a mere "maison" and claiming that the chance to see
|
;it was worth less than hunting a boar.
The resumption of the hunt leads this time to the pool '
with gold and silver gravel where the lady is bathing. The
repetition of the same change of tone from the excited chase
i i
i
to a serene and magical locale reinforces our sense of
mystery about the lady and predicts her later association
I
with the deserted castle. Like the castle, the lady is more
i
I
i
[beautiful than anything in the ordinary world, but again '
Luingamor does not evaluate the remarkable qualities ade- i
I
'quately. He quickly hides her clothes just to keep her
there until he can return; there seems to be little or no j
I
malice or prurience in his action, merely an artless \
expedient. i
151
I
1 The lady asserts her dominant personality at once by <
i
commanding him haughtily to return her clothes, and by |
f
j
chiding him, as one might scold a child, for a prank that j
God and his fellow knights would consider a misdeed.
I
Guingamor1s reaction to her authority is manifested in her ,
Iphrase, "Venez avant; n'aiez esfroi" (1. 453), which tells i
i :
j »
jus that he has apparently cowered back in confusion or j
fright. The lady capitalizes further on her superior posi-
I '
: I
ition by commanding him to stay with her and taunting his
I
failure at hunting. Guingamor returns her clothes with
simple politeness, and thanks her for her offer, but
explains that he wants to continue his hunt (a repetition of
t |
i'his earlier response to the castle) . Again she demonstrates
I '
her command of the situation by informing him that she con- j
(trols his hunt and so he may as well obey her, in return for
: i
|which she will later supply him with the lost boar and i
s
hounds. His acceptance of her offer represents his complete
;submission to her power, and a rejection of the simple codes
1
lof masculine prowess and honor which seem to have promoted
\
his earlier susceptibility to the challenge and devotion to
the hunt. But at the same time that he relinquishes the j
I
rigid and simplistic right/wrong, good/bad codes of child- !
jhood, he begins to accept the more complicated, subtler j
;codes of chivalry and courtliness— the adult world. Thus |
the pact with the otherworldly lady represents, ambivalent- j
!
ly, both death and initiation. Once he has made the first j
!
step toward a complex relationship, he is able for the first
jtime to begin to care for a woman, and shortly thereafter he I
i !
i 1
'is asking her to be his lover so that a second pact results.
The author (or perhaps the MS. S scribe) modestly |
i
switches the scene from the lovers' first embraces to the
maid, who rides ahead to prepare the castle, which is
i
suddenly filled with hundreds of people, including the ten
knights who were lost on previous hunts of the white boar.-
The fact that all these "lost" people now appear in the i
I
[castle and Guingamor can see them and be one of them objec- |
! [
tifies the change that has taken place in his life. ;
i
i
I
j The love of the lady and Guingamor is not really men- j
t
:tioned again (perhaps due to the meddling scribe?) but the |
I
evocation of a continual round of sensual delight sustains 1
! 9
jt'he image of pleasure. Furthermore, the fantastic wealth
We must suppose that in the original pagan religion
■behind this mythic tale, the water spirit functioned as does
many a combination sex-death goddess such as the Sumerian- |
Babylonian Innana-Ishtar of the Gilqamesh epic who takes
;each new hero as her lover. One is reminded of Gilgamesh's |
’failure to stay awake and guard his flower of immortality,
'too. But our Anglo-French author fails to suggest whether ,
Lt-he—other - ten- knights—we-r-e-given—such—an—amorous_reception.— I
, 153 I
] !
j ,
and joy of the people suggest paradise strongly, a feeling j
'that is reinforced by our previous perception of the magic ;
i
I
palace and by the sharp juxtaposition with the image of the
i
I
I
total destruction of the world that Guingamor had known. |
Guingamor's failure to accept his lover's word for the 1
i !
passage of time and the death of his former way of life con
stitutes an entirely understandable lapse into his former ^
way of thinking; for despite all the strange beauty of the
lady's realm, one might easily be tempted to disbelieve '
j I
'partially in such total magic, and desire to return to his
former world just for a peek. ;
i I
The return is the crucial test of Guingamor's develop- !
I
raeqt both in terms of the Death and the Initiation imagery— 1
i
I
for the one a representation of how well he has overcome his
basic mortal ties, for the other a representation of how
well he has understood and passed beyond his "recent"
jinnocence. The charge that the lover places on him not to
I
I
eat or drink mortal food crystallizes this ambivalence, j
I
since hunger is a prime mortal characteristic, and the food !
j I
he will eat will be the apples of Christian innocence- [
symbology.
The focus of the narrative switches soon to the
|
Charcoal Man whose lonely job turning dead wood into ashes j
154 |
I J
i
again manages to create a mood of foreboding and death. |
Aside from the Charcoal Man's function of creating atmo
sphere, the idea of telling the final portion of the story—
: . I
Guingamor's painful sense of loss, his terrifying debilita- '
tion into a 300-year-old man, and the tenderness of his j
‘ rescue by his lover and her maid— through the eyes of a '
'stranger avoids a potential embarrassingly sentimental con- ;
elusion, and at the same time it both forms a clever transit
[
tion into the formula ending which insists on the validity
of the story and keeps the crucial, meaningful climax of the
story wisely close to the limits of human perception. Is
i
Guingamor to be changed back into a young man by his lover?
Can man triumph over death and the death of innocence?
These questions remain tense and unanswered as they do to
i
i
mankind in general, while the author, with great honesty,
admits that what man knows of immortality is mortal fame and
^longing. The boar and the boar's head, then, become the
jculminating symbols of the tale, since the boar is ambiv
alently an object of food— and hence a reminder of the
'grosser, physical aspects of man, including sexuality— and a
source of prowess and fame, the only kind of immortality of
which man has proof. The author has brought both levels of 1
his tale, in perfect balance, to rest. i
i The great vitality of Guingamor derives, I feel, from j
two sources— the author's ability to evoke moods and atmo- |
i
spheres which give the reader an intense sensation of the
i
I
incidents in the story, and the delicate, well-controlled
balance between the two suggested interpretations of the j
i
story. On one level we understand a story of a young man
■ I
who experiences an initiation into the complexities of a
sensual, adult world, and succeeds in transmuting the vigor !
i
i
of his innocence into something vital in his new life; but
1 i
when, years later, he realizes how far he has come away from
his innocence, and how little he has accomplished in the
lifetime which seemed to pass like a few days, then he j
suffers a painful sense of old age, of mortality and of a 1
futility which renders him weak and useless, and which can, |
; i
perhaps, be somewhat soothed and smoothed over by the [
■spectres of success and happiness. On another level, we
[understand the story of a young man who faces death at first
I
with foolish, uncomprehending bravado, then with a blind
jfaith in magic salvation, and finally with a painful under
standing of the utter transience of earthly life.
! There is perhaps another level of meaning behind i
Guingamor, an anthropological interpretation based on !
I
jjungian archetypes. This kind of interpretation, insofar ,
as it appears valid, is especially applicable to Guingamor
because of the author 1s exploitation of the suggestive pos- |
|
sibilities of atmosphere and symbol. Dell Skeels' evalua- ,
»
I
tion of the Guerrehes episode from The First Continuation of
Chrestien's 'Perceval' identifies an Oedipal triangle be- !
i
I
itween the young knight (Guingamor's grandson), his fatherly
!
challenger, and his beautiful, and magic young mother (who, ;
I
'it seems, might even by Guingamor1s lover, and hence, in
, i
human terms, Guerrehes' grandmother as well as his 1
Jmother) . In one sense, Guingamor can be seen as a varia- ■
I
tion of this same triangle. Guingamor's uncle, his effec-
i I
tive father, is apparently (or effectively) impotent in that
I |
'he is unable to have a child, and the "mother figure" turns j
• j
jto the "son" for sexual love when he is too young, and con
sequently incapable of satisfying response. But she repeats
i
her challenge and he finally accepts. The three-fold j
j
[repetition of the forest-castle sequence suggests their
ichanging relationship (the authoritarian lady is certainly
a dedoublement of the "mother" seen in the new sexual con-
i ---------------------------------------
text)— first the exploratory venture, then the confirmation (
i
10 , 1
"Guingamor and Guerrehes; Psychological Symbolism in
a Medieval Romance," in The Anthropologist Looks at Myth.
led. Melville Jacobs and John Greenway, pp. 52-83. ;
157 !
! !
I
of a continuing sexual relationship, and finally the recog- i
i
nition of the "crime" involved in the death-by-replacement j
i
of the "father." An adequate study of this aspect of the ;
Breton Lays would have to be undertaken by an expert in
i
1 I
Jungian psychology and anthropology, and so is beyond the ,
i I
|scope of our particular study; however, the possibility of |
these archetypal patterns should be mentioned.
Instead of the Innocence-Death motifs as in Guingamor, •
the dominant theme in Graelentmor is the tension between
' |
jsurface appearances and genuine, underlying values.
The king retains Graelentmor as a knight because he ,
j j
proves a good fighter; the queen falls m love with his
i
reputation. She tells her chamberlain about her intention :
!
.to take Graelentmor as a lover, and the chamberlain replies I
,with an ambivalent, flattering speech which either indicates
l'the false extravagance of courtly manners, or if he is
I
sincere, indicates that he truly loves the queen and she is j
i
:being consciously cruel to flaunt her love affairs to him j
: i
(and the casualness with which she tells him suggests that
this is not the first time she has had a lover). in either ■
; I
case, the officious way in which she announces her projected
f
i
adultery helps to raise the question of the sincerity and I
i i
'social propriety of her behavior— even allowing for the i
158
courtly standards of the day, which might have excused one j
!
- I
lover.
The chamberlain and Graelent are all manners: he !
greets Graelent "avenanment" and Graelent calls him "biaus i
|
amis chiers." After the queen has embraced Graelent for j
i ‘ '
welcome^ the author tells us that "she spoke to him quite I
;Simply, but he answered her courteously without saying
anything satisfying to her." Then the author supplies an
i
j
example: the queen, with an egoism that reinforces the !
!
unpleasant officiousness of her treatment of the chamber-
lain, wonders why he is not begging for her love, and asks
!
him point blank why he does not. He responds with a thirty-1
'four line speech ornamented with such rhetorical flourishes j
as enumeration, allusion, parallelism, and careful balance
of phrases. The subject of his lecture is the proper con- 1
I
duct of a love affair, and he intimates, since it is also a j
: formal refusal of her offer, that she is pretty but false, j
unchaste, and in various other ways shallow. He has under- j
i !
stood her and her purpose immediately and completely. The
author stresses again after the speech that Graelent spoke j
"cortoisement."
I
i
Graelent’s implications about the queen's shallowness i
(are reinforced by the author's next comment: even if she j
159 |
t I
I
had not loved him before, his courtly speech would have con-!
i
vinced her. Then she goes on to reveal that, trite as it i
was, she did not fully understand the implications of the
.speech, for she claims to love him "quite perfectly" and ;
I
insists she has never loved anyone except her "seignor." j
The use of this term was as tactless as possible, for it
must remind Graelent of his complicated feudal relationship ,
which would be violated by the proposed liaison. On another
ilevel, however, Graelent's new objection is not valid, since'
j
;the codes of courtly love which he was mouthing a few
minutes earlier do not preclude a love between a lady and
I
her husband's vassal, if the affiliations between the three
(people remain properly balanced in respect to sincerity,
t
external propriety, and loyalty. When Graelent has made
I 1
ithis last, formal rejection, he "takes leave of her," and j
I
goes, presumably in cool, polite form. j
The queen's reaction to this rejection is rather like I
j
that of Potiphar1s wife: after a few conventional sighs,
she begins to bombard Graelent with further requests and
I
I
presents via messenger; when Graelent continues to refuse
her offers and bribes, she suddenly "hates him very much," \
\
and slanders him to her husband for revenge. This cool and :
(clean switch from love to hate essentially belies her I
! 1 6 0 j
i
earlier contention that she loved him truly and completely 1
i
: for, as everyone in the Middle Ages knew, true love was I
ended only by death, and rejected love demanded faithful I
and silent suffering. 1
The nature of the queen's slander is evident, if not j
t i
Istated formally. She advises the king to give him just [
|
enough equipment so that he could go on fighting for the
1 i
king, but he could not afford to desert and swear allegiance
to the enemy; therefore she probably accused him of weakness!
pf fidelity in regards to that very bond of social
allegiance which he invoked in refusing her "love." j
I i
Furthermore, it is unlikely that the king would believe her
I ,
unless she were m his confidence and favor (which weakens
I
I
her reasons for taking a lover) and also unless the king had.
.some other evidence for suspecting that Graelent's oaths and
1
behavior were more superficial than genuine, and likely not
to be honored.
: i
j The episode with the bourgeois's daughter again raises
I
the issue of underlying versus surface values. Graelent's
I
I
hosts, although technically of a lower social class, now ,
have more money than Graelent and their daughter is
"courtoise," i.e., learned in courtly manners. Yet Graelentj
^perhaps the first of a tradition of knights in reduced j
; i6i
i
, i
circumstances which includes Lazarillo de Tormes1 squire) ,
t
I
refuses to accept her dinner invitation and pretends he is
i
not hungry, because, presumably, it is beneath his station \
,to owe all his sustenance to a lower-class person (he will j
have been officially billeted at their home so he will not j
! owe them rent; although he would be expected to show
i
:"largesce"). Yet Graelent's denial of hunger is basically
dishonest and skirts the main issue, namely, that the in- j
junction against indebtedness to a bourgeois is only the
'surface requirement of a much more profound injunction that
the good knight should never allow himself to sink into suc'h
i
a state of deprivation in which he needs to accept any long-
'term charity. When Graelent issues orders to saddle his
I
."cliaceor" (while he has no saddle and only a "roncin") he is
again on the borderline of dishonesty and ostentation. The '
I
)
igirl proves her courtly graciousness by covering up the
I
'squire's blunt reply, "N'a point de sele" with an offer to
jlet him use her accoutrements. When Graelent rides through
t
I f
the streets of the town dressed in an old hide, and allows '
I
'the people to joke at him, the question of his pride and his
position is critical. Why has he let himself fall so low? i
And why is he pretending to be so dignified when his condi- I
ition is in fact laughable? Does his ignoring of the jeers i
make them less valid? Clearly Graelent has not come to
i
i
terms with the tension between surface appearances and j
codes, and the deeper meanings they imply or command. He
I
seems to assume that the ceremony of knighthood has endowed ;
him with certain qualities of dignity without his further j
I
'effort, overlooking the fact that knighthood was earned by ;
' I
jservice and that the dubbing ceremony itself is an oath to i
continuous striving. Were he truly worthy, the momentary ’
'condition of embarrassment (cf. Chrestien's Lancelot) would ;
; i
be of little import, and moreover were he truly worthy, he
I
would be active in making the embarrassment temporary rather;
i (
than succumbing to passive pretense. This escapism is, how-,
.ever, precisely his reaction to his situation. He wanders
I
j
'alone in the woods; he pretends he is not hungry, and he |
I
doesn't hear jibes. ■
j
I
Graelent begins hunting the white doe, a creature whose'
i
irare surface qualities could perhaps bring him renown and
'release from his reduced circumstances, but he drops his
: i
attention from hunting as soon as he sees the lady. Further-
(
I
more, his reaction to the lady is the passive and "immoral" j
one of the voyeur: the author tells us that Graelent does
not want to touch her while she is still in the water; t
; i
irat'her, he wants to watch her finish bathing, and he even j
163 |
steals her clothing in order to detain her as well as to '
I
keep her nude as long as possible. ■
i
The lady's response to Graelent's action strikes ;
I
sharply at the issues raised in the tale so far: the lady
assesses Graelent— of whom she presumably knows since she
I
I !
palls him by name— on both internal and external qualities |
and finds them, unfortunately, equivalent and negative— he ' ■
i
-I
'is dressed like a man of the lower classes and his behavior
i
smacks of lower class behavior, that is, he seems to lack an!
^instinctive manner which is dignified and kindly. Graelent's
answer bears out her assumption, for he speaks without
verbal respect or courtliness and insists on forcing the
( lady into a compromising and embarrassing situation— some-
I
.thing a good knight would never do. The lady assesses this,
i
lalso, saying that he means to "seize" her, that he uses
unseemly speech, and that he belongs to a different class
jfrom her. Again Graelent fails to accept her challenge to
I
behave properly; his reply, "I can wait," stresses his power;
over her, and his blatantly sexual remark, "You have a good
body," compounds the insulting tone of his earlier address.
11 i
Whxle there may be undertones of an older Celtic
;caution against touching water spirits, the Graelent author 1
iseems to have interpreted it only in human terms. j
Realizing that he does have her in his power, but that no ,
f
self-respecting gentleman would use his power over a j
I
defenseless lady, she again appeals to his sense of honor
i
by making him swear not to harm her. He allows her to 1
dress, but one can hardly imagine that he did so without j
I
iforcing her to expose herself to further lascivious glances.'
I '
Then, despite his lowly attire, of which any good knight
would be ashamed, and despite her obvious unwillingness, he :
begs her to be his lover, using, one gathers, the formal
i
request of which he must have learned the words but not the !
meaning. Her reprimand that he should not dare to address ;
her thus since it is unseemly for someone of his rank to !
love someone of hers, ought to strike shame into the heart !
1 |
of a decent knight. But instead, his patience exhausted, i
,Graelent rapes her, and thus establishes his ultimate i
'removal from the proper behavior of a knight. ;
Now the picture of Graelent presented so far has been
i
one of an insolent and unworthy knight who behaved badly at
most turns, but the fact remains that he is a knight and I
12 I
there is a great deal of potential in him. He may have j
12 i
Although no formal study has suggested that there !
might have been a formal and consistent knowledge of such a ■
(Philosophical tradition among the lower echelons of the i
165
applied his knowledge of courtly rituals poorly, but he doesi
have this knowledge. His self-pity and false pride are an j
unpleasant mask,, but they do hide a little bit of caution
I
and courtesy in his relations with the bourgeois' daughter. ;
I
1 l
And most important, despite all his infractions of the :
Ipolite love codes, he apparently does love the lady, for !
i
: instead of the violent violation and mocking escape of a
common rapist, Graelent makes pleasant and skillful love to
her and then remains to ask her again to be his lover. It I
lis this basic nobility and potential (along, we assume, with
the "good love" and the controlled, manly vigor used in
i i
Anglo-Norman literary world in the twelfth century, the
■principle that appears to be governing Graelentmor is the
concept of "The Great Chain of Being" as outlined by Arthur
Lovejoy's The Great Chain of Being (New York, 1960), or more
particularly by E. M. Tillyard in his Elizabethan World
Picture (New York, 1944). When Graelent is surrounded by |
'the order of the battle, he is a good and orderly knight; |
jw'hen he is confronted by the corruption of his queen, he J
ibegins to be corrupted himself; and when Graelent is con
fronted with the further disorder of the now corrupted
jking1s refusal to honor his feudal obligation to pay !
Graelent, then Graelent sinks into complete decay. The Ladyj
reinstates the natural and proper order by supplying j
Graelent with the means of reestablishing his proper role in
isociety. But the queen still needs some correction, and her
shamed modesty at the trial's conclusion provides the rein
statement of the ideal, natural order. This interpretation :
does not at all conflict with the one followed in the main |
text, but rather adds richer, metaphysical dimensions to it.1
making it) that the lady recognizes and admires, and so she !
I
i
consent to be his lover. When this previously perceptive
I
and honest woman says that she loves him "entirely" or
i
"truly," we must believe her.
: i
The charge that the lady places on Graelent to keep j
their love secret takes on a special, culminative signifi- >
'cance. She offers to supply him with the accoutrements to
maintain the outward appearance of a good knight, and she
offers to supply him with.the perfect love which must be
maintained carefully on an inward level. Thus she is
charging him to keep his life in perfect balance, or as she
> i
tsays, "Mais or soies de grant mesure" ("But now behave with j
: l
great restraint [or moderation or balance]"). Now Graelent j
| •
[responds to his "second chance" by beginning to behave as a
knight should— dispensing gifts liberally, and placing first
jin all the tournaments— and thus "earning" the large amount
of help his mistress provided for him.
I
Graelent has yet, however, to pass his greatest test. |
i
The bourgeoisie will honor him just because he has more
money than they do, but what about his peers? The test of
this occurs at the Pentecost feast when he is forced into a !
i
i
dilemma by the king's demand that everyone say whether the |
I
[queen is the most beautiful or not. This is, of course, a j
L _________ ___________________________________________ |
I 167
j |
question of surface value— especially since we know already, |
along with Graelent, that the queen is not a very profound j
i
person— and Graelent is forced to make a moral decision
whether to dissimulate, pretending to agree with the general,
i
opinion of the queen's beauty (which, by the way, would seem.
;to be the unrivaled winner in the ordinary public world, :
I . ■
since the lady exists only in Graelent's private world), or .
to disagree and place his relationship with his mistress in
danger. Since his mistress is his strictly personal fancy,
| I
i
and since the king's treatment of his wife is in itself
questionable by courtly standards, the decision to dissimu- :
late would not only be wiser but also quite defensible. 1
I
Graelent chooses to be scrupulously honest, or perhaps just \
I j
cannot repress his laughter and thus fails in control i
i
i(mesure) even if not in judgment.
j i
Appropriately, his error is punished not just by the |
I
king's trial, but also by the lady's removal of those
external tokens of knighthood which she had given Graelent
earlier. Graelent again shows his strength and weakness— on
one hand he remains faithful in his love for the lady,
i
refusing to reveal further details about their liaison^ even|
i
though they might help to exonerate him, but on the other
hand he again sinks into a state of passive lamentation and I
! 168
i i
i
privation; this time, of course, the lamentations are more ,
jrespectable since he has lost his true love. At his trial >
I
he is accused of having behaved like a peasant, but his dig-
I
nified silence at the trial itself belies this as a consis- '
^ent trait. it is for this reason that the lady appears— |
i
jthat Graelent's honesty might be vindicated and the queen's ;
false pride be scourged— but hot as a token of her forgive- ,
ness; she is careful in her statement so that the defense '
may note that he is guilty of some transgressions, if not of
j
[others.
This duality or ambivalence in the lady's attitudes j
I
sums up the tension between surface values and deeper
values. The whole trial is the result of a contest which
i
rests on surface appearances rather than on underlying i
issues, yet Graelent is essentially being accused of viola- 1
!tion of the oaths of chivalry, the most profound and meaningj-
•ful issue of his society. Because of the nature of the
i
trial situation, however, it is possible for the lady to !
appear and exonerate him of the superficial violation with- '
i
p
out denying his guilt in the deeper matters. Thus in the ,
l
trial, as in life in general, an active and unreasonable 1
i
balance prevails between external signs and internal values;j
the signs do not always communicate fully or accurately the j
169 |
I 1
I
values they rnask^ yet the judgments of the world must be [
t
made on the basis of these signs since they are usually the
only evidence available concerning the nature of values. !
,But for the good knight,, signs and values become two sepa- '
rate and equally important issues— he must manipulate the
I
jsigns to avoid casting any unseemly doubts on his courtly
jpropriety, and he must be sure that his values are noble at j
all times. Graelent is guilty of failing to maintain any
; i
'balance between these two objectives, and his society will
not forgive him for this.
I '
| But Graelent can redeem himself partially, since his 1
lover would naturally forgive some flaws in his behavior if j
i
his basic nobility were strong enough. Graelent"s attempt i
: i
,to cross the river, then, stands as a final, crucial test !
| j
of his mettle. The lady makes it clear to him that he will :
'die if he tries to cross, yet he insists on braving it, thus
;proving under the most difficult circumstances his loyalty
I
land courage. It is when the maids remind the lady that she |
' i
would be showing pettiness and cruelty to refuse such devo- '
i ;
ition that she relents and reaccepts him as her lover. |
Graelent"s steed functions rather as the boar's head !
did in Guingamor— to crystallize the issues of the poem in a
jingle symbolic object. The steed is the sign of knightly
Iprowess, and earlier its absence from Graelent's household |
,was the measure of his shame. As a noble animal, it is i
I
capable of the same kind of loyalty and anguish that its
i
master is, and when its master is translated into the mystic
.land of the lady, the steed takes over its master's earthly !
I
jstory by suffering and dying in the nearby forest (as an |
.ordinary mortal might well have done) with a grief that is i
t
I
at once unseemly and beautiful. ;
«
The steed also serves to hold the focus of the tale in
jthe forest for a moment longer, which is significant to
Graelentmor's gross structure. At first, Graelent assumed
i
that surface formality would suffice him for behavior, but
it failed to do so in his encounters with the queen, who,
like him, lacked the internal consistency to back up the
formalities. Stripped of the outward tokens of his noble j
i
station, he wins a lover in the forest on the basis of his
deeper natural values as a noble man. Then he returns to
i
.polite society and tries to apply his deeper honesty to
superficial situations like the beauty contest, and by this |
error of judgment loses not only the admiration of society,
but also that of his lover. Yet finally he is able to provej
■his basic worth to the lover back in the forest where they
presumably remain. Thus we have four trials in two j
! 1 7 1 j
!
sequences— castle/forest, castle/forest— of which Graelent
1
(
fails both castle-society tests and wins both forest-love j
I
tests. Graelent, then, is a second-rate knight who is |
i
intrinsically noble but who fails to achieve consistent
social competence; but in the world of love, where the '
!
externals are least important, he is more successful and |
; i
finds his eventual destiny.
I
i ;
i Graelentmor could easily be a much more profound poem ■
I
i
iif the author had exploited more fully the metaphysical
I !
;overtones of the society-forest tension, or of the other
worldly mistress who seems to exist for Graelent alone. As
i i
it stands, then, this lay is a modest if complex one, not
:equal to the scope and finish of Guinqamor. It is adequate-
I I
ly portrayed, with no excess of superfluous or decorative
materials; everything counts toward expressing the unfor-
! I
'tunately somewhat limited theme. j
I
; When approaching Lanval after Guinqamor and Graelent-
I
imor, it is a great temptation to dismiss it as a poorly
I |
motivated, merely decorative poem, for the most striking
1 j
point about Lanval, at first, is the coincidental, disuni- ^
i
fied nature of its plot. it is Arthurian, but Arthur seems ■
■ i
to have nothing to do with it; whereas Graelent lost his !
1 172
|
wages as a result of the queen's slander, Lanval loses his j
I
I
for an unknown reason; whereas Guingamor and Graelent both
I
find their fairy mistresses as the result of a well- j
motivated hunt, Lanval1s mistress just appears magically 1
while he by chance is lounging around in the forest. Clear-
I
| I
jly, Lanval lacks the kind of unity and linear psychological j
development in which the two other lays excel.
i
| I suggest, however, that the artistry behind Lanval is
! !
directed in another channel, that Marie was not trying to I
J
‘ construct a “well-made" lay, but rather was trying— as she
!
did in Chevrefoil— to construct a short tale using something
I '
'like the entrelacement principle usually associated with the
I
longer thirteenth-century romances, namely an interweaving
jof incidents in which the meaning is derived from the juxta-|
:position with the total context of the legend rather than
!
13
jfrom any consistent, unified pattern. Whereas the ;
thirteenth-century romances had a great bulk of material to
i
i
jdraw upon for juxtaposition and counter-juxtaposition, the
relatively brief Lanval relies upon allusion and the sense
I
of coincidence and illogic in order to make the audience
1 i
I
aware of parallel meaningful situations. !
1
I
13
I Eugene vinaver, Form and Meaning in Medieval Romance .I
173 j
I
Lanval begins with an invocation of Arthur's wars j
against the Piets and the Scots. Hoepffner has shown that j
j
Marie quite likely "borrowed" these details from Wace, and
I
I
i
isuggests that she did so to glamorize an older story and
make it more fashionable, since the Arthurian literature |
! i
of Wace and Chrestien was apparently the rage in the late i
' 14 ■
jtwelfth century. I would suggest that on the contrary
Marie is alluding to a specific incident in the Arthurian '
'cycle— and why not Wace1s popular, available version?— in |
jorder to annex the audience's knowledge of the Arthurian
■legends for the purpose of providing a net of materials for j
her story to rest upon. Arthur's battles against the Piets
I
and Scots point up the unreasoning powers in the world, for
I
'the great Arthur, spreader of peace, wealth, and Christian-
i
I
ity, is being threatened and rejected by the wild and [
.ruinous men of another country. At the same time, of I
I '
course, these dark and wild, foreign forces are trying to
recapture parts of their former homeland, and this reminds
jus of Arthur’s great desmesure of wanting to rule the whole
1 4 , i
La geographie et l’histoire dans les Lais de Marie
de France," Romania, LVI (1930), 1-32. Cf. also Roger ,
■Loomis, Arthurian Literature in the Middle Ages, pp. 117- !
120.
j 174
' I
i f
world when he could not even rule his own wife. So we are j
■alerted, by this one allusion, to three problems or themes: I
I
(1) the tension between constructive and destructive ele- '
ments in society, (2) the relativity of society, in which
I !
distance and relocation change values, and (3) the tendency 1
j o f even great men to succumb to desmesure. These same J
I
themes will reoccur later in the tale, and each will, upon I
joccasion, provide meaning. ^
The first thing we learn about Lanval is that he was
|the only one of Arthur 1s knights who was not well paid; the '
; i
fact that no reason is offered for this treatment suggests
j
to us the corruption of Arthur's court, and this is borne j
'out immediately by the indication that many men at the court*
| I
pretend to like Lanval but secretly they are jealous and j
i i
would be glad to see him die. Interwoven with these lines |
I
dealing with Lanval's wages (11. 18-26 and 30-32) are two |
i
passages announcing Lanval as a foreigner; Lanval is of the
i
king's house in another land and, by implication, such
|treatment would not occur there; furthermore, the author
stresses, the stranger in a foreign land is always lonely
and helpless. Thus we have the themes mentioned above j
I
reannounced. i
| 175
!
Lanval's response to his misfortunes is withdrawal— he
i
wanders by himself in the woods. There he is greeted by a j
magic force which is a function of the positive aspects of
\
iforeign lands and being a foreigner, namely the possibility [
i
of "far-flung fame" and aid from distant quarters— the woman'
I !
has heard of Lanval and comes from afar to be his lover. 1
|
However, there is also a catch to the woman's love: it must
I
remain secret and foreign or it will be corrupted and de
stroyed by evil influences. Thus the foreign lover becomes !
i
jthe stranger's private and secret world, a world so rich and
strange it seems almost symbolic of the creative imagina
tion. I
i
The garden scene plays upon the positive and negative
i
'aspects of society in the way that the previous scenes had ;
played upon the positive and negative aspects of foreign
ness. Gawain's sense of social courtesy and propriety— |
t i
jwhich does bridge the foreignness gap and recognize Lanval
'as a prince— causes him to want to invite Lanval to their
recreation. Once there, however, Lanval is confronted with
i
the somewhat negative image of the unfaithful queen. His .
.rather tactless terms of refusal bring to mind the fact that!
indeed the queen's unfaithfulness will play a role in the
I
■eventual destruction of Arthur and his kingdom. This idea I
is reinforced by the desmesure of both the, queen and Lanval;j
I
,both lose their tempers and insult each other in what con-
! ;
'stitutes a complete misuse of social courtesy. it is only J
in an attempt to degrade the queen that Lanval mentions his :
t
i
secret lover. So both of them are right and wrong at the
t l
same time— just as both Arthur and the Pict-Scot invaders j
; i
were— and both of them deserve some punishment, which is
i
provided through the structure of the trial.
Beyond its literal meaning, however, the trial gains
t
Ipower and significance from the fact that it is, on one ^
i
level, a reenactment of the first half of the tale done in
reverse. Lanval begins as he had ended the first half of I
I
the tale, as a foreigner alone in a corrupt society. j
Arthur's anger is excessive, and the trial would never have 1
1
;taken place, the author implies, if Lanval were not a for
eigner; but at the same time, Gawain and the knights side j
I
with him just as they had chosen to invite him earlier.
i
I
jFinally, the mistress appears to the court in all the mystic
I
and majestic glory with which she had earlier appeared to
Lanval alone: now the foreigner is vindicated by proof that
I
i
his own land has things as brilliant as his present resi- j
|dence. This reverse process gives a sense of implied logic !
177
'to the tale: Lanval gets himself into a situation, Lanval ;
I
works himself out of the situation. !
i
i
The final incident of the lay connects with the opening^
;allusion to Arthur's court. We know that the brilliance of !
1
■the mistress cannot survive in the corrupting influence of !
I ;
i
(society, and so both Lanval and his mistress withdraw to a :
^foreign land. The vital issues of whether the mistress for-!
i
gave Lanval completely and whether their love could survive ,
i
,in the foreign society remain ambiguous; this reinforces in
i t
our minds the comparison with Arthur himself who, after 1
defeat, ambiguously vanished also to Avalon, perhaps to
I
return.
i
From this summary, it would seem that the meaning of
Lanval is much looser and less specific than that of the
more unified Guingamor and Graelentmor, which is certainly
true. Lanval does, however, evince meaning greater than the!
jsummary suggests; most of this sense of significance is
gathered by implication from two aspects of the work— the
I
consistent coincidence and the texture of details described.
I
I
The constant sense we have that incidents were not carefullyj
.caused and neatly patterned adds to our understanding of the
war between order and chaos, between strange and native i
*
i
jelements. For example, Lanval's loss of pay might well be j
178 |
i
due to just a clerical error3 but the results are quite as j
bad as if Arthur deprived him out of spite. Thus all the j
characters are constantly vulnerable— as both victim and .
{
I
unintentional victimizer— and the private dream world seems
; I
more necessary and real. The distinction between society i
i
and the personal world is further sharpened by the details 1
! i
Marie chooses to mention about each. The world of the
mistress and Lanval— i.e., the private world of the out
siders— is seen in terms of ordered but flexible forms while
I
j :
Ithe world of Arthur and his queen— i.e., ordinary society— 1
: is seen as rigid and consequently breakable. Lanval can :
I
I
take off his mantle and roll it up for a pillow; the mis-
i
i
tress disrobes when it is too hot, even though she has
I
guests; the formality of the dinner is supplemented with
i
i
side-dishes of kisses; the mistress wears a most daring,
! !
i
bare-sided dress to the trial. This image of the mistress—
who was first seen in a supple tent— is countered by the
jimage of the queen— who is first seen leaning out of a j
i
!"carved window" and descending a staircase to the garden.
'The queen never does anything deviant: she waits for her !
husband to return home before formally asking him for j
.justice against Lanval. The resolve of these two images is I
in the trial— a formal rigid structure which the king and i
I 179 i
I i
i i
queen invoke to insure punishment whether it is just or not;|
however, the flexibility of the mistress allows her to de- j
I
feat the formal injustice— or rather manipulate it, since j
i
the injustice could not have occurred if she had appeared in,
the first place— by refusing to appear until the moment when,
i
her entrance would make the greatest impression. i
i |
I am not sure that the experiment of adapting the tale j
[to a complex style was entirely successful in Lanval; the
;long romance, with its greater variety of incident, seems
!
I
better able to encompass and actually resolve such complex
ity. Nevertheless, Lanval has a vitality and a deserved
popularity that rests entirely on its superb handling of
realistic details, which make the scenes in this lay more
i
[vivid and attractive than those in much other medieval
literature. The descriptions of women's clothes and of the
jlegal procedures show extreme care expended on the part of
i
Marie. Furthermore, a great deal of skill and charm is
I
i
'evinced by the selection of details mentioned above and in
the realism of the speech patterns in several of the scenes,
[ j
notably the angry exchange between the queen and Lanval with'
its combination of curt and run-on phrases and its sugges
tion of various tones of voice such as the veiled sarcasm j
, I
behind "cel mestier." The proportioning of the trial scene t
is considerably more artful than that of the trial scene in I
Graelentmor; Marie is careful to arrange not only a build-upi
of better details to be mentioned about each successive
!
woman, but also she arranges that the number of lines devot
ed to each segment of the trial gradually increases so that [
I
jwe have the feeling of the expansive grandeur of the mis- j
!
tress's appearance. The technique of Lanval is truly
f I
distinguished. !
I
I
That Marie was capable of working with and molding a
I
llay around a more unified theme is clearly demonstrated by
Guigemar, but even here, despite the theme, a curious com- |
; i
bination of a seemingly naive formality on the part of the j
narrator with an extremely vague and subtle symbolism marks
i
'a style significantly different from the relatively tight
and obvious structures of Guinqamor and Graelentmor.
The only flaw in Guigemar is the introduction which
spends some dozen lines naming irrelevant characters for
i
the purpose either of establishing a truly historical back-
I
ground for the lay (which hardly seems important to us), or ,
: i
of, perhaps, flattering Breton nobles at court who might |
have been supplying patronage or otherwise influencing the s
, t
fate of the author. Not until line 40 does Marie announce '
181 j
her theme— Guigemar is unnatural in that he pays no heed at j
all to love, a fault which is not justified even for a young
man ("li damaisels," 1. 66) . j
I
!
' The inciting incident does not begin until some twenty |
I
dines later, when Guigemar goes hunting. He finds in the j
I
forest an unreal beast— a pure white doe with stag's antlers,
i
and a fawn— and shoots it. Now this episode corresponds in ■
position to the episodes in the other Guingamor-group lays
|in which the hero accosts his lover in the forest, a fact
t
\ t
that favors a sexual connotation to whatever symbolism there
t
be here. Furthermore, the terms used to describe the s'hoot-
,ing suggest sexual activities, e.g., the arrow striking, the
wounded thigh, falling back into the thick (drue1) grass;
i
and the punishment prescribed by the dying doe rests on love
i
i i
'matters. I suggest, then, that the white stag-doe with a ■
fawn represents the pure— white— ideal of marriage— male and,
^female joined as one, raising children— and that the in
cident as a whole is a totally symbolic representation of
^Guigemar offending against the principle of marriage, eitherj
I
,in an abstract way by refusing to partake of it or, more
I j
likely, in a literal way by performing some act such as j
iraping a mother. if we accept this premise, then the curse j
1 i
■of the doe makes perfect sense: Guigemar can find healing
I
ifor his wound— guilt at having despoiled a £amily--only by |
suffering for his own true love in a marraige-like bond, and'
:it is important that the lay does not end until their actual!
' i
marriage is consummated. j
The boat that carries Guigemar away is clearly a death i
i
boat: like Guingamor1 s castle, it is supernatural-ly rich ]
I
and beautiful, and magically operative without human help; j
" i
furthermore, a pillow inside it keeps the sleeper from grow-
i
ring any older, and Guigemar appears to be dead when he is
: 4 |
found later. Guigemar, then, is symbolically dying, leaving
ihis old way of life to be reborn into a new life of proper j
i
loving. |
i
I
Also, behind the magic involved in the stag-doe and
!boat incidents is the suggestion of a psychological symbol-
I
ism. Before finding the boat, Guigemar sends his page to
fetch a horse for him; when he returns on the boat— some
I
year and a half later, supposedly— the page and his men are
!waiting for him at the shore with his horse. This should j
tell us, I suspect, that the whole marvelous section is ]
I
!indeed unreal, and meaningful only in a symbolic sense: it
takes place only in Guigemar's mind, for the outside world"
i.e., Guigemar's companions— has not noticed it. For j
I
IGuigemar, it clearly represents falling in love. The .
183
I
stag-doe represents some ideal of love, and Guigemar is
struck by an arrow coming from it— the traditional way of
expressing the idea of being struck by the image of love.
He goes on a voyage to a dream world where he finds an ideal
!1ady imprisoned by an old, sexless man— and Guigemar had j
I i
behaved like an old person previously in his sexlessness— j
and he woos the lady in the proper fashion, pledging to love'
i
pnly her. When he returns to reality, he suffers from the
remembrance of her, and only when he meets someone very much
Hike her— notice that they do not recognize each other at
i ;
first sight, but only slowly, through tokens, realize that
they have found each other— is he able to end his suffering j
by seizing her for his wife. This interpretation reinforces;
I
lat all points the main theme of the work, the proper devel
opment of a love relationship, and incidentally prefigures a
Itheory of love psychology— that the lover perfects the image,
i
of the loved one in his mind— that dominates much of later
15
■French fiction. The tokens exchanged further reinforce
'this interpretation. The knot and the belt will, supposed
ly, ensure fidelity, but since they have no reason to
15
For a complete discussion of this idea see Andre
Maurois, Cinq visages de 11 amour (New York, 1942) , trans
lated as Seven Faces of Love (New York, 1944).
anticipate willful infidelity of each other, the purpose
imust be in fact both to prevent their violation by other
i
people and, since they accept these tokens of impotence
.willingly, to stand as a symbol of their unwillingness to
16
love anyone but their ideal lovers. On one level, then,
the tale concerns two people who suffer through years of
(adversity dreaming of an ideal lover, and are finally
rewarded by meeting a realization of the loved one.
t The literal level of the tale is held together by a
sub-theme of mesure. Guigemar is at first guilty of
. desmesure by not loving at all; then he is punished by a
supernaturally inflicted wound, and begins to atone for thi
I
by loving in the most pure and perfect fashion. The lady's
/husband is guilty of a desmesure— growing naturally out of
I
ihis age, Marie tells us— in his unnatural imprisonment of
his wife, and he is punished by the supernatural appearance
jof Guigemar and later the supernatural release of his wife
^^The chastity belt would of course render the woman
incapable of participating in a sexual act, and the knot is
probably symbolic of impotence, as in the Gunnhild-Hrut
I episode of Njal's Saga. See Brennu-Njals Saga (Reykjavik,
1954); English translation by Magnus Magnusson and Hermann
Palsson as Njal's Saga (Baltimore, 1964). The Gunnhild
:episode occupies chapters six and eight.
! 185 j
| i
from the tower. Finally, the lady has a supernatural [
;beauty (1. 686) which constitutes in itself a desmesure j
i |
I
(1. 690) for which she, Guigemar, and Meriaduc must suffer.
!
Meriaduc serves a further, special purpose, for he is a
I
worthy knight that the lady might well choose to love, and 1
i
Guigemar might well fear to resist; the choice of him as the
pbstacle, then, makes the testing a complex and significant
I
business, and makes the lovers' success more admirable. !
Furthermore, the lady's excess of beauty makes Meriaduc's
I i
fatal attraction to her and his insistence on keeping her an
understandable if unforgivable flaw in his character that
justifies as well as renders tragic his death. This theme j
I
I
I
of mesure presupposes an orderly cosmos in which a feasible
ibalance co-exists with an imbalance caused either by natural
i
iflaws (the lady's beauty) or misbehavior on the part of
i
willful humans. Guigemar demonstrates Marie's belief that
jthe imbalances and excesses in one's life can be rectified
■or atoned for by patient suffering, active struggle, or
i
tragic death.
I
Guigemar is hardly less magnificent than Lanval in the j
^richness of its poetry; the lament of the wounded stag-doe, |
j
the magic boat, the lady's room, and the love scenes are allj
'°f Lanval's calibre. Guigemar lacks Lanval's functional ;
186
; I
proportioning, and the long introduction, as noted, does ,
I |
seem irrelevant. All of the other apparent flaws in the i
I
tale— the coincidence of the suddenly unlocked door, for
I
example, or the brevity of the descriptions of the hunt and
i
the final battle— are, however, carefully planned,, function-j
I
al parts of the story: the marvelous and magical elements,
^ i
i |
such as the unlocked door, are unreal and nonlogical becausej
ithey mirror conflicts between a mental, imaginary world and i
I
a physical, real world; the hunt and the battle in them-
i
selves are unimportant to the theme of the tale, so they are
treated in a brief, concise fashion. in a lay like Eliduc, :
I
of which the main theme is the interrelationship between j
I i
personal and public events, Marie gives quite an extended j
kescription of battle, showing that she could do so if she
|
wished. i
»
i I
j In this connection^ I would like to stress that I feel I
i
i
it unfair to discuss Marie's lays separately; I believe that
the twelve lays collected in the Harley manuscript with the
I
dedicatory prologue are not a random selection of tales, but
rather a group of tales conceived as a meaningful whole, and!
arranged in a careful sequence. Guigemar, the first in the [
i i
collection, speaks of the proper development of a love :
i
affair, in which the protagonists attempt to atone for their
'desmesure, while Equitan, which follows it in the manu
script; speaks by contrast of the improper development of a 1
love affair, in which the protagonists compound their !
I
desmesure with treachery; both lays feature the protagonist
as a hunterj the lovers in preliminary debate, and the j
| i
exchange of love tokens. This pair of lays is followed by j
i
what is clearly another pair: Le Fresne in which a woman
patiently bears the trials of her lover, and Bisclavret in !
which the woman impatiently takes advantage of her husband's
I ,
trials in order to betray him; both of these lays employ
^discarded clothing as a central recognition device. The
I
next pair, Lanval and Les Deus Amanz, both deal with the j
i .
desmesure of the hero whose secret love xs forced to public ,
jtrial; again, one ends positively, one negatively. The nexJ
I I
i
I
three lays, Yonec, Laustic and Milun, all use birds as
central symbols of the communication of adulterous lovers;
I
the first two end tragically for the lovers (though Yonec (
i
|does avenge his father) but the third, again employing the
, ’ father-son motif, ends happily for everyone. The last three
lays all deal with the complexity of multiple lovers— i
Chaitivel1s lady has four equal suitors, Chevrefoil's ^
'unnamed queen (presumably Isolt) loves Tristram but is j
I
unwilling to discontinue her relationship with King Mark,
188
and Eliduc is caught between his love for Guildeluec and |
Guilliadun— and all three end happily in various ways; both j
I
Chaitivel and Chevrefoil end with the protagonist composing *
the lai, and all three lays are specifically concerned with i
'the public and social aspects of private affairs. Further- j
Lore, Eliduc— with its love dialogues., its battles,, its j
magic animals, its abbey, its secret messages and secret \
Escape from the unknowing father, its voyage, its murdered |
sailor, its slandered knight, its patient wife— serves as a i
i |
,very fitting, allusive summary of the whole group, as well
as providing a peaceful and logical conclusion resting in ;
I
i
religion. Taken as a planned whole, we find these lays to i
I
i
|be a cogent and complete statement about life and love in
jMarie's society: each individual character may be a flat
^stereotype, but he will be paralleled by an antithetical or
|intermediate character in another lay; the scope and focus
f
of each lay may be limited, but in the other lays we find
jConstantly the other aspects and alternatives handled. We
find not only love, in all its manifestations, but also war,
sports, travel, medicine, religion, history, fashion, busi-
l
ness, education, and public law. The only other example in j
medieval literature of a similar scope and complexity of
!statement through a grouping of tales is Chaucer's j
Canterbury Tales, which, of course,, is vastly more complex j
by virtue of the additional tension of the narrator- j
I
pilgrims; but Marie, writing two centuries before Chaucer, i
I
is certainly making an estimable achievement in developing
the possibilities of the tale-collection, and, I think it !
icould be argued, she surpasses, by virtue of her conciseness!
I i
and polish, the works of Chaucer's contemporaries Boccaccio ;
'and Juan Ruiz in the same form. 1
While it might be argued that the arrangement of the
I
lays is purely incidental or coincidental, I submit that,
taking, for example, the twelve anonymous French lays '
[ :
(Desire, Doon, Expervier, Espine, Graelentmor, Guinqamor, ,
, j
Lec'heor, Mantel, Me lion, Tydorel, Tyolet, and Trot) one
I
would find it quite difficult if not impossible to force
I
them into any kind of meaningful sequence, even if one dis-
|
regards such clever aspects of Marie's artistry as her care-]
i
•ful alternation of long and short lays. Above all, one can-!
;not, in the anonymous lays, find anything like the consis
tent depth of world view that Marie displays— a persistent
ifaith in, and demonstration of, the ultimate orderliness and
meaningfulness of human life. j
190 j
That materials as diverse and obscure as those in |
Lanval and Guigemar could in fact be unified in the tight |
; ' !
fashion of Guinqamor and Graelentmor is proven by Desire.
Like Guigemar, Desire opens with an introduction telling of ■
, i
Desire's parentage, but here the circumstances of the hero's1
I I
birth are integrated into the meaning of the tale. First j
I
the author tells us that Desire was born in a region near ,
i
'two rare and magical sites— a Black Chapel and a White >
i
Heath— both of which are not only of crucial significance
! . i
to the later events of the story, but in fact come to be
associated with the principal conflicting elements, namely \
I
nature and religion, or natural passionate desires and con- ,
trolled, reasonable desires. Then, Desire was conceived
jwith special help from a saint, and hence was probably given;
I
an especially religious upbringing. As he is educated, he
I
I
learns not only how to be a perfect knight, but also learns ;
"to know the forests and rivers." Thus, from the material *j
* l
in the prologue, we expect Desire to be a person proficient j
in natural as well as societal things, or perhaps torn
between them. i
i
When Desire rides out in the forest to disport himself,j
the author takes pains to tell us that he is genuinely
excited by the sounds of nature. He decides to visit his !
' 191 i
1
childhood companion, a hermit of the Black Chapel, but is
distracted by a lovely girl with her hair down standing
barefoot in the dew. He addresses himself to her "not like !
i
a peasant" but with such healthy animal spirits that they i
are soon lying on the grass; but the author treats the ;
j |
■incident as humorous, quite unlike the parallel incident in j
J
Graelentmor. The girl promises him an even better love than|
I
hers, and leads him to a bower, couched in flowers, in which
(
reclines a lovely lady, who leaps up and flees nimbly 1
through the thicket. As soon as Desire catches up with her
I
and proposes, she accepts being his beloved without argu
ment. How markedly different from the rich and angry ladies|
in Guinqamor and Graelentmor 1 j
i
/ 1
I Desire's lady gives him a ring and adjures him to
behave as a good knight should— nothing more specific, just 1
as a good knight should. This leaves the audience with the
question of how he should behave. The eventual answer is
ithat he should marry the lady, but that he does not think of!
'this is not hard to explain: she is clearly a creature from-
I
another world— the wild, natural world he loves— and it is i
i
not at all customary to marry people like that.
\
, This becomes clearer in the next episode, wherein |
| ^ F
Desire confesses his relationship as if it were a sin. As j
I
the mistress indignantly points out, there really is no sin
about the relationship— or at least there need have been i
none— but Desire seems spontaneously to have assumed that
i
I
there was. When the lady appears to have communion with him!
to prove that she is compatible with religion, the next step!
i
i :
would seem to be marriage, but again Desire does not get the,
i
notion. j
Now she begins to exact an expiation for his long
I
I
delay. She sends their son to tease him; when the boy runs
I
home through the forest, Desire cannot follow. Yet she \
sends the dwarf to look after him when he gets lost, proving1
, I
she still cares for him. This scene in the forest, very J
i
much in the style of Guinqamor, suggests a good deal by '
I i
I
association and atmosphere. The boy, like his mother, is a
true wild spirit who can escape through the forest at will. 1
Desire longs for the forest life but his skills are not ade-t
jguate to his longings. Between them stands the dwarf, a
mock or malformed nature spirit who (as dwarves are wont to
do) behaves badly by leading Desire on in his intense desire
i '
I
to find the magic home of the lady. Naturally this unseemly
i
i
if understandable voyeurism is rewarded by a symbolic I
wound— symbolic, probably, of the illicit sexual delight j
which is, in the last analysis, unsatisfying; we notice that!
it'he wound is miraculously cured as soon as the mistress 1
I
I
lappears again. Furthermore, Desire is only saved from the I
i
murderous clutches of the guards by the grace of the serving^
!
maid; in the interchange that follows, it becomes even more
clear that the maid and the dwarf are acting as surrogates ;
ifor the heroine and the hero— the first pure, able, and j
clever, while the second is stunted, inept, and sentimental,
I
albeit kindly. So again we have a mistress whose sensibil
ity is well balanced and integrated, and her mortal lover
j(Desire, the wanted and wanting one) whose reason and
,passion are so discrete that he cannot handle a subtle sit- ■
'uation. The scene at the lady's castle, as a whole, serves J
i
to objectify the fact that even in the kingdom of passionate
I I
nature, there is reason and logic, just as in the kingdom of
reasonable society there is passion of the strongest kind.
I Desire does not fathom the logic of the other kingdom
yet: he is merely depressed by the failure of his venture,
land languishes, feeling mocked at and abused. Only at the
I i
i
'Pentecost feast is his sorrow ended, and then through no \
.action or maturation of his own; the lady finally yields and
comes to his court, begging to be married. |
( Desire, then, is the story of a knight who fails to j
S
(integrate the natural— love and passion— and religious— I
| 194
society and reason— sides of his life. He behaves well I
I
'toward each side., but he never thinks to make the highly i
: i
desirable liaison— i.e., holy matrimony— between the two.
I
There is a kind of gentle, high comic flavor about much1
of Desire. The situations and sins are not as qrave as thev
i
i ^ i
jcould be, and even at the moment of Desire's greatest and
somewhat deserved distress, the efficient and loving pres- |
i
ence of the serving maid reminds us that the mistress loves
1 i
/ '
Desire too much to let things turn out badly. if the
bhematic strand is not so rich or consistent as that of
i
Guingamor, it is still obviously of the type of the anony-
I
mous lays rather than of the lays of Marie de France.
i
I
CHAPTER V \
CONCLUSION
j From the analyses above,, it is perfectly clear that the
j i
kind of criticism directed toward the anonymous lays by 1
someone like Stefan Hofer simply cannot be applied to any of'
t
these lays,, but most particularly not to Guingamor and !
i I
Graelentmor, which are constructed with such care and con
sistency that each element is undeniably a necessary, proper;
and individual part of its lay. Desire is hardly a Chris- '
tian rationalization of an older lay, as some have suggest- |
i
ed; the theme of religion functions as an integral part of
the tale, and each incident is woven in carefully enough
I
ithat it may just as well have grown out of this theme. Some
I
i
of the plot elements of Marie's lays might have been bor
rowed since the connecting links between incidents are often!
| !
weak and the realistic, logical relationship between parts
i
is often unimportant, but the way in which the incidents are
195
196 i
i I
I
told— the texture of description and dialogue— is so i
peculiar to Marie's lays that it is in essence hers. |
I
As noted above, because of manuscript variation and thej
repeated use in all the lays of stock phrases, these lays
cannot successfully be compared on the verbal level alone. !
l |
But the broader elements of style do establish some con- I
; 1
frasts between the poems sharp enough to form useful dis-
i
I
criminations in terms of possible authorship. ;
Each of the lays is told by a first person narrator who1
I
mentions himself in the opening or closing remarks, but in
addition to these formulaic references, Guingamor contains !
bnly one comment which seems to imply the narrator's pres- j
i
ence (1. 401, “Or est Guingamors escharniz"), Desire con-
|
tains two slightly stronger references (1. 350, "Oiez cum il
est avenu"; and 1. 148, "Jo quid qu'il l'eust asprimee"), j
and Graelentmor also contains two passages (1. 153, "Que
fera ores Graelens?" and the transitional passage from
11. 399-412) which lightly draw the reader and narrator
I
closer together. in sharp contrast to this, Marie's two j
i
lays each have several points at which the narrator breaks ;
I
into the story to address the audience directly (Lanval,
11. 33-38), comment on the action (Lanval, 1. 351; Guigemar
i
1. 186), provide extended moral commentary on love and
fortune (Guiqemar, 11. 465-480, 517-523) in addition to a
I
dozen references of the sort cited in the anonymous lays or
i
of a formulaic nature using "Ceo m'est avis," etc. It is (
I
safe to say, then, that (even allowing for the possible loss:
i
of a phrase or two from Guinqamor) the anonymous lays make a'
; I
significantly slighter use of the device of the oral narra- ■
i
tor than does Marie, who seems to employ it regularly as a |
I
natural element in her style, in her Fables and Espurgatoire
as well as in these particular lays.
i
^ Despite the implication in this that perhaps Marie is !
closer to the oral tradition than the other authors, she in
I j
fact shows many indications of her essentially written |
i
i
roots. In the prologue to the lays, she not only reveals
herself as a learned person, but also suggests in her state-
i
' i
ment "I have often stayed up nights rhyming them" that she j
I
I
composed carefully and probably in writing; furthermore, |
references in other lays— e.g., Chevrefoil, 1. 6, "E jeo i
1 1ai trove en escrit," or Guiqemar, 1. 5, "Sulunc la lettre
e l'escriture"— and her other works place her in a written
!
tradition. But more important than these possibly casual
I
or misleading references, Marie's lays consciously and j
regularly employ the whole range of rhetorical devices in
■the ordinary narrative texture. The only passage in an j
i 198
I
I
anonymous lay to rival the literary formality of Marie's j
i
style is Graelentmor1s set speech on love (11. 73-106), but •
i
this is clearly done for special effect, and it stands out
from the surrounding passages noticeably. Marie's lays,
I
then, show both more obvious oral devices as well as more '
I ;
obvious literary devices than any of the anonymous lays. j
I
Marie seems to have paid attention to the formal, literary
J
craft of her verses, while the anonymous authors strive for |
a modest, natural verse flow. ■
i ’ i
! \
i One other group of stylistic devices of crucial impor-
(
.tance in discriminating between these lays is their type of i
gross structure, description, and characterization. In ;
respect to these, Marie's accepted lays tally up quite
differently from the anonymous lays.
I
I As noted above, the structure of Guingamor is neat and |
tight, with each incident both linked closely to the main
,theme and melting smoothly into the next scene. Graelentmor
; i
I
an<^ Desire show somewhat more obvious breaks between epi- j
sodes, but the integration with the theme is still strong. j
I
But Lanval and Guiqemar show sharp and formal breaks between
episodes, usually in the form of an interjection by the <
narrator, and both lays, whether intentionally or uninten- I
jtionally, are not tightly unified by a single theme. j
; 199
i i
Guingamor, Graelentmor and Desire all evoke scenes by a>
i
few well selected details rather than by painting a full j
picture. Guingamor and Desire rely strongly on atmosphere !
and mood, which is evoked in some cases by the very vague- >
,ness of the setting, and in other cases (notably Guingamor1s|
| t
hunt) by an attempt to involve the audience with the action
I
: by imitating its flow rather than by painting a picture of i
it from an external viewpoint. Neither of Marie's lays ;
; seems to work in these terms; Marie does not create moods,
but she paints complete external pictures of certain women
I
and strange places by listing numerous details. The hunt i
and the forest seem to mean little to her; her forte is the !
I
idealized bed-chamber or court. One scholar has observed:
i
I
The stories of Marie de France come from the mind; they
are imagined, rather than inspired by observation. The
, visual imagery is at a minimum. What did our author see
in her lifetime? What pictures has she shown? Very j
few. A party of knights riding up to Excester who are j
seen from a height. A silver city surrounded by water,
! where large ships tie up— some memory of Saint-Malo,
perhaps. A sarcophagus covered with a golden mantle.
A falcon mewed. . . . This paucity of images leads me to j
believe that Marie de France was a recluse, perhaps a j
i nun. She saw very little. Her stories come from books; j
her knowledge of love is a dream knowledge.-*-
I
While our particular lays would add to this list a court i
1 1 1
Norma L. Goodrich, The Ways of Love (New York, 1964), i
p. 280.
200 j
.trial, even this excellent scene could be considered to be j
I
derived from book-learning about trials. The curious I
I
explanation of such an ordinary object as the block used for
the knights to mount their horses might make one wonder if
t r
maybe the audience as well as the teller of Marie's tales 1
jwere not cloistered. On the other hand, however, perhaps we
should not make too hasty a judgment on the basis of this j
one criterion. Marie also, upon occasion, brings a scene to
!
life by noting one significant detail— Guigemar seizing the i
clothes-tree to defend himself, or Meriaduc cutting the :
[lady's laces— and in some cases, despite what we may feel
1 I
about her success in doing so, Marie goes to considerable j
I
pains to delineate a manly, outdoors scene which she could I
just as well have summarized in a few couplets telling the
I
i
outcome of the venture— for example, the battle in Eliduc,
ill. 165-210, in which the strategy of the ambush is care
fully and lengthily noted.
i Marie's characters are hardly individualized; they tend
1
I
: to be nearly perfect or grossly imperfect types, and the
psychology behind their actions is rarely explored except
occasionally in terms of the cliches of medieval love and
and c'hivalric lore— for example, Guigemar is told he is
|wrong not to love, and that he must love, so he begins to
i 201 I
j
love. Quite to the contrary, the heroes of Guingamor and |
Graelentmor— and to a lesser degree Desire— are realized in |
special and specific psychological terms— alienation from ;
i
f
chivalric values— and they undergo a gradual developmental
or educational process which culminates only in the final 1
i
'lines. When one considers, however, the artistry and i
, i
t
ithought behind Marie’s complete group of twelve lays, one ;
sees that Marie's characters are flat because: (1) Marie 1
!
believes in an ordered cosmos in which most people are in- '
deed simple and do not change much, (2) Marie handles the
i
complexity of issues by contrasting characters and incidents1
in several lays, and (3) Marie writes most specifically in
the genre defined earlier (see pages 76-77 above) as a
I
j"Tale," of which one characteristic was the use of flat
i
characters. The three anonymous lays, then, are working
away from the "tale" toward the "short story" by virtue of
!
their interest in characterization.
None of our three anonymous lays could be by Marie
, i
unless she altered dramatically, since these lays exploit j
concerns and techniques foreign to her known writings. j
Likewise, Marie shows an interest in history and a kind of
.artistry which is lacking in these anonymous lays. Further-;
more, the three anonymous lays are similar enough in style
j _ 202 I
I
to each other to be by the same author; by no means do !
; i
[superficial plot resemblances preclude such a contention,, 1
I
since the themes and conclusions are so strikingly differ-
I
ent. The whole question, however, must remain moot and un- :
.certain: the repetitions and similarities between j
:Shakespeare ' s plays and his contemporaries' plays did not j
t
I
I
keep him from writing his canon nor them from writing |
theirs; and could we justly guess that The Comedy of Errors ■
was by the same author as King Lear and The Tempest, not to 1
mention Henry VIII or Two Noble Kinsmen, if they were all
anonymous?
As to the question of whether the anonymous lays or i
Marie's lays were written first, the evidence is even more
;confused and inconclusive. The thematic sophistication of
i
the anonymous group could be the result of either primary
composition or clever re-working, just as the particular, j
i j
t I
|disunified narrative of Lanval could be either a naive first
j
itelling, or a botched re-telling, or a self-consciously
(ambitious re-telling.
Beyond these ambiguous questions, we have shown that, !
contrary to the impression to be gained from most criticism (
I
on the Breton Lay, three anonymous lays— Guingamor, j
Graelentmor, and Desire— have an artistic integrity which i
removes them from the compass of mere plagiarism from the i
i i
! i
lays of Marie de France. We have also shown that the Bretonj
Lay as a genre is most closely related to oral traditions J
'such as the tale and the narrative ballad, and thus more j
likely to rely upon traditional formulas than a strictly ,
| j
iliterary, written form might. Above all* we have shown how '
the authors of the five lays under examination have used the1
full resources of their traditions to bring alive five rich ,
I
and meaningful tales.
i
I
1
I
I
I
, A P P E N D I X
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j
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!
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204 ’
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THE CONTENTS OF MS. S3 BIBLIOTHEQUE NATIONALE,
NOUVELLES ACQUISITIONS FRANQAISES 1104
1. Guimar— Marie de France's Guiqemar
i
2. Lanval— Marie de France's Lanval
3. Desirre— Anonymous, Desire
| 4. Tyoulet— Anonymous, Tyolet
i 5. Dyonet— Marie de France's Yonec
6. Guingamor— Anonymous, Guingamor
, 7. Espine— Anonymous, Espine
8. Espervier— Anonymous, Espervier
i 9. C'hievrefueil— Marie de France's Chevrefoil
10. Doon; — Anonymous, Doon
11. .II. Amants— Marie de France's Les Deus Amanz
12. Bisclaret— Marie de France's Bisclavret
13. Milon— Marie de France's Milun
14. Fresne— Marie de France's Le Fresne
} " '
I
15. Lecheor— Anonymous, Lecheor
16. Aguitan— Marie de France's Equitan
17. Tydorel— Anonymous, Tydorel
■18. Cort Mantel— Anonymous, Cort Mantel
19. Ombre— Jehan Renart's Ombre
20. Conseill— Anonymous, Conseil
i
21. Amoures— Anonymous, Amours
22. Aristote— Henri D'Andeli's Aristote
23. Graalant— Anonymous, Graelentmor
24. Oiselet— Anonymous, Qiselet
i
205
BI B L I O G R A P H Y
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206
j
SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY
Editions and Translations of Relevant
Medieval Texts
Anglo-Norman Lapidaries, ed. Studer and Evans. Paris:
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! Bishop Percy's Folio Manuscript, ed. Hales and Furnivall.
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Bronson, Bertrand H. The Traditional Tunes of the Child
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i O'Keeffe. London: Irish Texts Society, 1913.
Chestre, Thomas. Sir Launfal, ed. Bliss. London: Thomas
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Child, Francis j. The English and Scottish Popular Ballads
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Chretien de Troyes. Le Chevalier au Lion (Yvain), ed.
I Roques. Paris: Champion, 1965.
j ______________________. Le Chevalier de la Charrete (Lancelot)
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!
; ______________________. Cliges, ed. Roques. Paris: Champion,
1957.
207
I
208
Chretien de Troyes. Li Contes del Graal (Per Perceval-
roman) , ed. Hilka. Halle, 1932.
| _____________________. Erec et Enide, ed. Roques. Paris:
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Crossj Tom, and Clark Slover. Ancient Irish Tales.
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•Dante Alighieri. Opere, ed. Chiappelli. Milan: Ugo
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La vita Nuova, ed. Musa. Bloomington:
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I
Eilhart von Oberge. Tristant, ed. Lichtenstein.
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t
Eneas, ed. Salverda de Grave. Paris: Champion, 1964,
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|Gottfried von Strassburg. Tristan, with the "Tristan" of
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1
•Heinrich von dem Turlin. Diu Crone, ed. Scholl. Stuttgart,
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; 209 |
j
"Lai de L 'Espine , " ed. Zenker * Zeitsc'hrift fur Romanische j
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i
Lancaster, Charles M. Saints and Sinners in Old Romance. 1
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I
"Le Lay de Graelent," in Legrand D'Aussy, Fabliaux, q.v.
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i
Legrand D'Aussy. Fabliaux ou Contes. Paris: Jules
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I
The Mabinogion, trans. Gwyn and Thomas Jones. London:
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I j
; . Die Fabeln der Marie de France, ed. Warnke.
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i
' I
I __________________ . Fables, ed. Ewert and Johnston. Oxford;
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_. Le Lai de Lanval, ed. Rychner and |
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I
1 __________________ . Lais, ed. Ewert. Oxford: Blackwell,
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I
. Les Lais, ed. Rychner. Paris: Champion,
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j
Michel, Francisque. Lais inedits. Paris, 1836. j
*
i
The Niebelungenlied, trans. Hatto. Baltimore; Penguin,
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Njal's Saga, trans. Magnusson and palsson. Baltimore: '
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I
Paris, Gaston. "Le Donnei des Amants," Romania, XXV (1896),!
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i
_______________ . "Lais inedits de Tyolet, de Guingamor, de
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i j
Ipartonopeus de Blois, ed. Crapelet. Paris, 1834.
I
1 I
Le-Roman de Renart, ed. Roques. Paris: Champion, 1955. I
i Le Roman de Thebes, ed. Constans. Paris: SATF, 1890.
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i
Sir Qrfeo, ed. Bliss. Oxford University press, 1954.
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I
I
Thomas. Tristran, ed. Wind. Geneva: Droz, 1960.
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' i
i
Wace. Le Roman de Brut, ed. Arnold. Paris: SATF, 1935.
. Le Roman de Rou et des Dues de Normandie, ed. i
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i 3 1
i I
i
;Wolfram von Eschenbach. Parzival, trans. Mustard and |
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i
Bliss, A. J., ed. Sir Launfal. London: Thomas Nelson,
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, __________________ . Sir Orfeo. Oxford university Press,
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i
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I
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i 1
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i
[Gardner, John, and Lennis Dunlap. The Forms of Fiction.
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i
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I
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; ______________ . "Zur Beurteilung der Lais der Marie de
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I
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| !
Newstead, Helaine. Bran the Blessed in Arthurian Romance. '
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\
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✓ i
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! I

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Creator Moritz, William Earl (author)

Core Title "Guingamor", "Guigemar", &ldquoGraelentmor", "Lanval", and "Desire": A comparative study of five Breton lays.

Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Program Comparative Literature

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

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