So much for the present as regards our folk-tale as a whole. Let us now
see what light the study of it may have thrown upon the special subject
of our investigation—the Three Days’ Tournament. And first of all, I
think it has definitely settled the correctness of our title. East or
west, north or south, wherever we have traced our story, whatever the
hero’s feat—whether the rescuing the princess from a devouring dragon,
or the winning her hand at a knightly tournament—the days required to
complete the task are _three_—neither more nor less.
Mr. Hartland, to whom I referred the point, remarks that the unvarying
tendency in certain families of folk-tales, notably those of Oriental
origin, is to crystallise a small but indefinite number into _three_.
Now Mr. Campbell, as we have seen, detects a likeness between the flying
horses of the _Sea Maiden_ tales, and the horses of the Veda, and Mr.
Joseph Jacobs, in a note appended to another tale,[52] quotes a further
remark of the same writer, to the effect that the many-coloured horses
of Indian mythology may account for all the magical horses of
folk-tales. So if our tale, as a whole, did not come from the east, it
seems possible that this particular incident may have done so.[53]
Yet in so far as the tournament form is concerned, it is, of course,
_possible_ that certain literary versions of the story might have been
affected by the ordinary customs of the day. Anyway there seems to be a
fairly close correspondence here between fact and fancy. Niedner, in his
work on _Das Deutsche Turnier_,[54] remarks that the tourney proper was
generally held on a Monday; the knights assembled on the previous
Saturday; Sunday morning was spent in mustering those present and
arranging the opposing factions; while the afternoon was devoted to the
encounter known as the _Vesper-spiel_, preliminary to the grand struggle
of the morrow. Thus the ordinary duration of such a meeting might be
reckoned as three days.
But it is clear that there might also be three distinct encounters on as
many separate days, as in the folk-tale. Professor Kittredge, in his
article, ‘Who was Sir Thomas Malory?[55]’ notes a very remarkable and
pertinent instance taken from the life of Richard Beauchamp, Earl of
Warwick. When that nobleman was Governor of Calais, hearing of a great
gathering of knights, to be held in the neighbourhood, ‘he cast in his
mynde to do sume newe poynt of chevalry’; and under the several names of
_The Grene Knight_, _Chevalier Vert_, and _Chevalier Attendant_, sent
three challenges to the French king’s court. These being accepted, he
appeared the first two days in differing armour, the third ‘in face
opyn,’ on each occasion overthrowing his antagonist.[56] The days in
question are given by Rous as January 6th, 7th, and 8th; the year he
does not mention; but Professor Kittredge, by a process of elimination,
arrives at the conclusion that it must have been either 1416 or 1417. It
is, of course, obvious that this feat must have been suggested by the
romances. It is, I think, equally obvious that the three days of the
romances were not at variance with actual practice. As to the version of
the folk-tale there can be no question. The correct number is
three—neither more nor less.
It is, of course, also clear that the occurrence of the tournament in
the folk-tale must be subsequent to the institution of tournaments as
part of the ordinary chivalric and social conditions; but the tale
itself must be earlier, as is witnessed both by the archaic nature of
the rescue incident and the magical nature of the horses. Trials of
skill in horsemanship are known to all stages of society; and the
original form of this special incident was doubtless something of this
kind. In the Odenwald variant referred to above, the hero has to perform
the feat of carrying off on his spear a ring suspended from a beam, and
to hang it up again in returning. This is here supposed to form part of
the tournament; but it seems most likely that in earlier forms the trial
of skill by which the hero was tested and identified was simply some
such feat of skilled horsemanship.
Nor do I think that we are to see the influence of romance, rather than
of custom, in this transformation. Neither of the poems in which the
incident approximates most closely to the folk-tale form, the _Lanzelet_
and the _Ipomedon_, appear to have been particularly popular (certainly
not the former), judging from the number of manuscripts in which they
have been preserved, while the ‘Tournament’ form of the folk-tale is
found all over Europe. It is much more reasonable, surely, to conclude
that the episode has been borrowed, as so many others have been
borrowed, from the stores of popular tradition than to hold that in this
case popular tradition has been modified by the influences of a literary
cycle.
But is it not as clear as daylight that all this immense body of
evidence absolutely and finally disposes of any claim on the part of
Chrétien to be first in the field? The _four_ days of _Cligés_ rule that
romance, as a source, out of court at once and for ever. Further, not
only is that version demonstrably secondary in itself, but definitely
secondary to and dependent upon the _Lancelot_ versions. These
correspond with the prevailing colours of the folk-tale—black, red, and
white, or green, red, and white.[57] The one is the version of the
_Prose Lancelot_, the other of the _Lanzelet_. Chrétien not only gives
one day too many, but manifestly does so in order to combine the two
versions which he, in common with us, knew, and gives _both_ green and
black—two colours which are found together in no single version of all
the dozens I have read.
There is a possible ‘clerical’ explanation of the existence of two
versions of the _Lancelot_ tale. _Noir_ in the manuscript may have been
read _vair_, and a copyist writing from oral dictation may thus have
substituted _vert_. But in the face of the green, red, and white of the
very primitive Celtic variant given by Mr. Campbell, and confirmed by
the Greek parallel, I think it more likely that the three colours of the
_Lanzelet_ represent the older form. But inasmuch as in romances, which,
like the Arthurian, were supposed to correspond in some measure to the
conditions of real life, a green _horse_ would be an impossibility,
while yet horse and armour should correspond, black—perhaps under the
influence of the _Perceval_ story—would take its place. Both were
represented in the folk-tale, and it may be that the version of the
_Prose Lancelot_ and of the _Ipomedon_ simply represents ‘the survival
of the fittest.’
That there were _two_ versions a closer study will, I think, make
evident. Probably those who have followed the argument and illustrations
closely will have already detected what hitherto I have left unnoted,
that the version of the _Ipomedon_ stands in a much closer relation with
certain forms of the folk-tale, _i.e._ the _Petit Berger_ or _a_ group,
than is the case with either the _Cligés_ or the two _Lancelot_
versions. In the _Ipomedon_ alone the prize of the Three Days’
Tournament is the hand of the princess. And not only is there agreement
in this, the leading, feature, but there is also a curious
correspondence in minor details. Thus, both in the poem and in the
folk-tale, the hero, in the character of a servant, has already won the
princess’s love. In both she is bitterly disappointed at his apparent
failure to compete. In the folk-tale she sends each evening to ask why
the shepherd-lad has taken no part in the tourney, receiving each time
the answer that he was unwell, but would do his best to appear on the
morrow. In the poem, each evening Ipomedon sends word to the princess
that it is he who has gained the tourney, but that he is leaving the
country immediately, and will not be present on the next day. Thus the
heroine, in each case, is kept in uncertainty as to the intentions of
her lover.
If we add to this the correspondence with the Odenwald variant already
pointed out,[58] and the fact that in the _Ipomedon_ alone the hero is
wounded on the third day—a feature found not only in the Odenwald story
but in several variants of _Le Prince et son Cheval_—it becomes clear
that if there be a doubt as to the source of the _Cligés_ or the
_Lanzelet_, the _Ipomedon_ version must repose, directly or indirectly,
upon the folk-tale.
But, as we have seen, it is precisely the evidence of the _Ipomedon_
which leads us to connect the story with Walter Map, and the romance
ascribed to him, the _Lancelot_. What, then, are we to conclude? I think
the only satisfactory interpretation is that which I have suggested
above, that there were two versions of the story; in one of which the
hero was represented as winning, and probably wedding, the princess; in
the other the incident, whatever its original form, had already been so
far modified as simply to provide an effective setting for his first
appearance at Arthur’s court. This is indeed what we find in the
_Lanzelet_; and the general tone of that poem, wherein the hero wins the
hand of no fewer than four ladies, and certainly weds three of them,
shows that there would be no initial improbability in postulating
another and more primitive form of the story.
To return to _Cligés_. The _dramatis personæ_ of the tournament episode
should be considered. The hero of the adventure does not compete with
any number of knights, but is each day confronted with a chosen
champion. These are, as I have already shown, Segramor, Lancelot,
Perceval, and Gawain; and so far as the first three are concerned they
appear here, and here only, their names, even, being otherwise
unmentioned throughout the six thousand seven hundred and eighty lines
of the poem.
To any one thoroughly familiar with the Arthurian romances, the
juxtaposition of these three names is extremely significant. The
adventure itself is elsewhere assigned to Lancelot. The hero with whom
the _Lancelot_ story in its earlier stages is most closely associated is
Perceval; Chrétien himself here introduces Perceval as a famous knight,
with whose renown Cligés was already familiar, and ranks him above
Lancelot. One of the best-known adventures ascribed to Perceval is, as
we have already shown, one in which the three colours, black, red, and
white, figure, and in which he overthrows Kay in a manner curiously akin
to other versions of the tournament episode. But previous to
overthrowing Kay he had vanquished Segramor, who was the first to attack
him. Is it not evident that Chrétien, like the authors of the _Ipomedon_
and the original _Lanzelet_, was here reminded of the blood-drops
adventure? If it be asked why introduce Segramor instead of Kay, we may
recall the fact that while Cligés is represented as nephew to the
Emperor of Constantinople, Segramor, as the _Merlin_ tells us, was son
to that potentate. Chrétien _may_ have introduced him as less known in
connection with this than Kay, who is never once named in _Cligés_; but
I think it more likely that it was his parallelism to the hero, as well
as his connection with Perceval, which determined his appearance.
But with regard to the latter, there is another point which deserves
mention. In that section of the _Peredur_ which does not correspond to
any section of the _Conte del Graal_ we find the hero, released from
prison by the daughter of his jailer, attending a warlike tournament, in
which each day he carries off the prizes; but there is no change of
armour, and the days appear to be four instead of three. Previously to
this he has also appeared three successive days at a tournament; but
overcome by the beauty of the empress, of whom he is enamoured, he
remains gazing at her, instead of taking part in the contest, until the
third and final day. These passages are deserving of note, as they
appear to me to show direct contact between the _Perceval_ and
_Lancelot_ stories, and in this instance the borrowing appears to be on
the part of the earlier story. Not only is Lancelot released from the
prison of the Lady of Malehault to attend a tournament, thus
corresponding with the one instance, but when he arrives on the spot he
behaves in precisely the same manner at the sight of Guinevere as is
recorded of Peredur with the empress. I do not feel able to accept the
tournament as a real part of the _Perceval_ story, no other feature of
any version of the Perceval ‘_Enfances_’ corresponding with the
_formulæ_ of the group in question; yet the correspondence of detail
between the two stories is so undeniable that contact of some sort,
direct or indirect, there must be, and I think in this case we must hold
that the _Peredur_ has been influenced by a version of the _Lancelot_
akin to that preserved in the prose redaction.
To return to _Cligés_. Taking into consideration all the evidence, the
importance and widespread character of the folk-tale, the closer
correspondence of both the _Ipomedon_ and the _Lanzelet_ to the popular
form, and the peculiarities of the _Cligés_ version, it becomes, I
think, impossible to doubt that this latter, so far from being the
_source_ of the _Lanzelet_, is, as submitted above, not merely posterior
to, but distinctly dependent upon a form of that story. And if we admit
this, must we not also admit that here, at least, Chrétien did _not_
understand the character of the material with which he was dealing, and
that in this instance he certainly deserves the epithet which Professor
Foerster asserts we would wish to apply to him, that of _ein
verschlechternder Ueberarbeiter_? The phrase, be it remembered, is
Professor Foerster’s, and not mine; but so admirably does it suit the
present question, that I can only say, ‘_I thank thee, friend, for
teaching me this word!_’ Chrétien was _not_ dealing directly with
popular tradition, but taking it at second-hand after it had already
been modified and worked over in romantic form. To put it tersely, in
the Three Days’ Tournament we have a folk-tale theme intelligently
adapted by the authors of the _Ipomedon_ and the _Lanzelet_, and
misunderstood and ‘muddled’ by Chrétien.