our eight fragments, is that Arthur, represented as King of Little
Britain, while boasting to Gawain of his round table, is told by
Guenever that she knows of one immeasurably finer; the very trestle is
worth his halls and his gold, and the palace it stands in is worth all
Little Britain besides; but not a word will she say as to where this
table and this goodly building may be. Arthur makes a vow never to sleep
two nights in one place till he sees that round table; and, taking for
companions Gawain, Tristram, Sir Bredbeddle, and an otherwise unknown
Sir Marramiles, sets out on the quest.
The pilgrimage which, to save his dignity, Charles makes a cover for his
visit to the rival king forms no part of Arthur's programme.[271] The
five assume a palmer's weed simply for disguise, and travel east and
west, in many a strange country, only to arrive at Cornwall, so very
little a way from home.
The proud porter of Cornwall's gate, a minion swain, befittingly clad in
a suit of gold, for his master is the richest king in Christendom, or
yet in heathenness, is evidently impressed with Arthur's bearing, as is
quite the rule in such cases:[272] he has been porter thirty years and
three, but [has never seen the like]. Cornwall would naturally ask the
pilgrims some questions. From their mentioning some shrine of Our Lady
he infers that they have been in Britain,--Little Britain we must
suppose to be meant. Cornwall asks if they ever knew King Arthur, and
boasts that he had lived seven years in Little Britain, and had had a
daughter by Arthur's wife, now a lady of radiant beauty, and Arthur has
none such.[273] He then sends for his steed, which he can ride three
times as far in a day as Arthur can any of his, and we may suppose that
he also exhibits to his guests a horn and a sword of remarkable
properties, and a Bur-low-Beanie, or Billy-Blin, a seven-headed,
fire-breathing fiend whom he has in his service. Arthur is then
conducted to bed, and the Billy-Blin, shut up, as far as we can make
out, in some sort of barrel, or other vessel,[274] is set by Arthur's
bed-side to hear and report the talk of the pilgrims. Now, it would
seem, the knights make each their vow or brag. Arthur's is that he will
be the death of Cornwall King before he sees Little Britain. Gawain, who
represents Oliver, will have Cornwall's daughter home with him. Here
there is an unlucky gap. Tristram should undertake to carry off the
horn, Marramiles the steed, and Sir Bredbeddle the sword. But first it
would be necessary to subdue the loathly fiend. Bredbeddle goes to work
without dallying, bursts open the rub-chadler with his sword, and fights
the fire-breathing monster in a style that is a joy to see; but sword,
knife, and axe all break, and he is left without a weapon. Yet he had
something better to fall back on, and that was a little book which he
had found by the seaside, no doubt in the course of those long travels
which conducted the pilgrims from Little Britain to Cornwall. It was
probably a book of Evangiles; our Lord had written it with his hands and
sealed it with his blood. With this little book, which in a manner takes
the place of the relics in the French tale, for the safety of the
pilgrims and the accomplishment of their vows are secured through it,
Bredbeddle conjures the Burlow-beanie, and shuts him up till wanted in a
"wall of stone," which reminds us of the place in which Hugo's spy is
concealed. He then reports to Arthur, who has a great desire to see the
fiend in all his terrors, and, upon the king's promising to stand firm,
Bredbeddle makes the fiend start out again, with his seven heads and the
fire flying out of his mouth. The Billy-Blin is now entirely amenable to
command: Bredbeddle has only to "conjure" him to do a thing, and it is
done. First he fetches down the steed. Marramiles, who perhaps had vowed
to bring off the horse, considers that he is the man to ride him, but
finds he can do nothing with him, and has to call on Bredbeddle for
help. The Billy-Blin is required to tell how the steed is to be ridden,
and reveals that three strokes of a gold wand which stands in Cornwall's
study-window will make him spring like spark from brand. And so it comes
out that Cornwall is a magician. Next the horn has to be fetched, but,
when brought, it cannot be sounded. For this a certain powder is
required. This the fiend procures, and Tristram blows a blast which
rends the horn up to the midst.[275] Finally the Billy-Blin is conjured
to fetch the sword, and with this sword Arthur goes and strikes off
Cornwall's head. So Arthur keeps his vow, and, so far as we can see, all
the rest are in a condition to keep theirs.
The English ballad retains too little of the French story to enable us
to say what form of it this little was derived from. The poem of Galien
would cover all that is borrowed as well as the Journey of Charlemagne.
It may be regarded as an indication of late origin that in this ballad
Arthur is king of _Little_ Britain, that Bredbeddle and Marramiles are
made the fellows of Gawain and Tristram, Bredbeddle carrying off all the
honors, and that Cornwall has had an intrigue with Arthur's queen. The
name Bredbeddle is found elsewhere only in the late Percy version of the
romance of the Green Knight, Hales and Furnivall, II, 56, which version
alludes to a custom of the Knights of the Bath, an order said to have
been instituted by Henry IV at his coronation, in 1399.
The Färöe ballad, 'Geipa-táttur,' exists in four versions: #A#, Svabo's
manuscript collection, 1782, III, 1, 85 stanzas; #B#, Sandøbog, 1822, p.
49, 140 stanzas; #C#, Fugløbog, c. 1840, p. 9, 120 stanzas; #D#, Syderø
version, obtained by Hammershaimb, 1848, 103 stanzas.[276] It repeats
the story of the Norse saga, with a moderate number of traditional
accretions and changes. The emperor, from his throne, asks his champions
where is his superior [equal]. They all drop their heads; no one
ventures to answer but the queen, who better had been silent. "The
emperor of Constantinople" (Hákin, #D#), she says, "is thy superior."
"If he is not," answers Karl, "thou shalt burn on bale." In #B#, when
they have already started for Constantinople, Turpin persuades them to
go rather to Jerusalem: in the other versions it must be assumed that
the holy city was on the route. As Karl enters the church the bells ring
and the candles light of themselves, #C#, #D#. There are thirteen seats
in the choir: Karl takes the one that Jesus had occupied, and the peers
those of the apostles. A heathen tells the patriarch[277] that the Lord
is come down from heaven, #C#, #D#. The patriarch proceeds to the
church, with no attendance but his altar-book [singing from his
altar-book]; he asks Karl what he has come for, and Karl replies, to see
the halidoms, #A#, #C#, #D#. In #B# the patriarch presents himself to
the emperor at his lodging, and inquires his purpose; and, learning that
he is on his way to Constantinople, for glory, advises him first to go
to the church, where the ways and means of success are to be found. The
patriarch gives Karl some of the relics: the napkin on which Jesus had
wiped his hands, cups from which he had drunk, etc. Karl, in #A#, #C#,
now announces that he is on his way to Constantinople; the patriarch
begs him not to go, for he will have much to suffer. At the exterior
gate of the palace will be twelve white bears, ready to go at him; the
sight of his sword [of the holy napkin, #B#] will cause them to fall
stone-dead, or at least harmless, #B#. At the gate next within there
will be twelve wolf-dogs[278] [and further on twelve toads, #B#], which
must be disposed of in like wise: etc. The castle stands on a hundred
pillars, #A#, and is full of ingenious contrivances: the floor goes up
to the sky, and the roof comes down to the ground, #B#. Karl now sets
out, with the patriarch's blessing and escort. Before they reach the
palace they come upon three hundred knights and ladies dancing, which
also had been foretold, and at the portals of the palace they find and
vanquish the formidable beasts. The palace is to the full as splendid
and as artfully constructed as they had been informed: the floor goes up
and the roof comes down, #B#; there are monstrous figures (?), with
horns at their mouths, and upon a wind rising the horns all sound, the
building begins to revolve, and the Frenchmen jump up, each clinging to
the other, #B#, #C#, #D#. Karl remembers what his wife had said, #A#,
#D#.
Of the reception by the monarch of Constantinople nothing further is
said. We are immediately taken to the bedroom, in which there are twelve
beds, with a thirteenth in the middle, and also a stone arch, or vault,
inside of which is a man with a candle. Karl proposes that they shall
choose feats, make boasts, rouses [_skemtar_, jests, #C#]. These would
inevitably be more or less deranged and corrupted in the course of
tradition. #A# and #C# have lost many. Karl's boast, dropped in #B#,
#C#, is that he will smite King Hákin, so that the sword's point shall
stick in the ground, #D#; hit the emperor on the neck and knock him off
his horse, #A#. Roland, in all, will blow the emperor's hair off his
head with the blast of his horn. Oliver's remains as in the French poem.
William of Orange's ball is changed to a bolt. The exploit with the
horses and apples is assigned to Bernard in #D#, the only version which
preserves it, as in the Norse saga; and, as in the saga again, it is
Turpin, and not Bernard, who brings in the river upon the town, and
forces the king to take refuge in the tower.
Early in the morning the spy reports in writing, and King Hákin, #D#,
says that Karl and his twelve peers shall burn on the bale, #A#, #C#,
#D#, if they cannot make good their boasts, #B#. Karl's queen appears to
him in his sleep, #A#, and bids him think of last night's words. It is
the queen of Constantinople in #B#, #C#, #D# who rouses Karl to a sense
of his plight; in #B# she tells him that the brags have been reported,
and that burning will be the penalty unless they be achieved. Karl then
sees that his wife knew what she was saying, and vows to give her
Hildarheim and a scarlet cloak if he gets home alive. He hastens to
church; a dove descends from heaven and sits on his arm [in #B# a voice
comes from heaven]; he is assured that the boasts shall all be
performed, but never let such a thing be done again. In #A# three of the
feats are executed, in #D# four, in #C# seven, Oliver's in each case
strictly, and Turpin's, naturally, last. The king in #C# does the feat
which is proposed by Eimer in the saga. #A# and #C# end abruptly with
Turpin's exploit. In #D# Karl falls on his knees and prays, and the
water retires; Karl rides out of Constantinople, followed three days on
the road by Koronatus, as Hákin is now called, stanza 103: it is
Karlamagnús that wears his crown higher. #B# takes a turn of its own.
Roland, Olger and Oliver are called upon to do their brags. Roland blows
so that nobody in Constantinople can keep his legs, and the emperor
falls into the mud, but he blows not a hair off the emperor's head;
Olger slings the gold-bolt over the wall, but breaks off none; Oliver
gives a hundred kisses, as in the saga. The emperor remarks each time, I
hold him no champion that performs his rouse that way. But Turpin's brag
is thoroughly done; the emperor is driven to the tower, and begs Karl to
turn off the water; no more feats shall be exacted. Now the two kaisers
walk in the hall, conferring about tribute, which Karl takes and rides
away. When he reaches home his queen welcomes him, and asks what
happened at Constantinople: "Hvat gekk af?" "This," says Karl; "I know
the truth now; you shall be queen as before, and shall have a voice in
the rule."
It is manifest that Charlemagne's pilgrimage to Jerusalem and the visit
to the king of Constantinople, though somewhat intimately combined in
the old French _geste_, were originally distinct narratives. As far as
we can judge, nothing of the pilgrimage was retained by the English
ballad. We are not certain, even, that it is Charlemagne's visit to Hugo
upon which the ballad was formed, though the great popularity of the
French poem makes this altogether likely. As M. Gaston Paris has said
and shown,[279] the visit to Hugo is one of a cycle of tales of which
the framework is this: that a king who regards himself as the richest or
most magnificent in the world is told that there is somebody that
outstrips him, and undertakes a visit to his rival to determine which
surpasses the other, threatening death to the person who has disturbed
his self-complacency, in case the rival should turn out to be his
inferior. A familiar example is afforded by the tale of Aboulcassem, the
first of the Mille et un Jours. Haroun Alraschid was incessantly
boasting that no prince in the world was so generous as he.[280] The
vizier Giafar humbly exhorted the caliph not to praise himself, but to
leave that to others. The caliph, much piqued, demanded, Do you then
know anybody who compares with me? Giafar felt compelled to reply that
there was a young man at Basra, who, though in a private station, was
not inferior even to the caliph in point of generosity. Haroun was very
angry, and, on Giafar's persisting in what he had said, had the vizier
arrested, and finally resolved to go to Basra to see with his own eyes:
if Giafar should have spoken the truth, he should be rewarded, but in
the other event he should forfeit his life.[281]
This story, it is true, shows no trace of the gabs which Charlemagne and
the peers make, and which Hugo requires to be accomplished on pain of
death. The gabs are a well-known North-European custom, and need not be
sought for further; but the requiring by one king of certain feats to be
executed by another under a heavy penalty is a feature of a large class
of Eastern tales of which there has already been occasion to speak: see
'The Elfin Knight,' p. 11. The demand in these, however, is made not in
person, but through an ambassador. The combination of a personal visit
with a task to be performed under penalty of death is seen in the
Vafþrúðnismál, where Odin, disguised as a traveller, seeks a contest in
knowledge with the wisest of the giants.[282]
The story of the gabs has been retold in two modern imitations: very
indifferently by Nivelle de la Chaussée, 'Le Roi Hugon,' Œuvres, t.
V, supplément, p. 66, ed. 1778, and well by M. J. Chénier, 'Les
Miracles,' III, 259, ed. 1824.[283] Uhland treated the subject
dramatically in a composition which has not been published: Keller,
Altfranzösische Sagen, 1876, Inhalt (Koschwitz).
Percy MS., p. 24. Hales and Furnivall, I, 61; Madden's Syr
Gawayne, p. 275.
* * * * * * *
1
[Saies, 'Come here, cuzen Gawaine so gay,]
My sisters sonne be yee;
Ffor you shall see one of the fairest round tables
That euer you see with your eye.'
2
Then bespake Lady Qu_een_ Gueneuer,
And these were the words said shee:
'I know where a round table is, thou noble k_ing_,
Is worth thy round table and other such three.
3
'The trestle that stands vnder this round table,' she said,
'Lowe downe to the mould,
It is worth thy round table, thou worthy k_ing_,
Thy halls, and all thy gold.
4
'The place where this round table stands in,
. . . . . . .
It is worth thy castle, thy gold, thy fee,
And all good Litle Britaine.'
5
'Where may that table be, lady?' q_uo_th hee,
'Or where may all that goodly building be?'
'You shall it seeke,' shee says, 'till you it find,
For you shall neuer gett more of me.'
6
Then bespake him noble K_ing_ Arthur,
These were the words said hee:
'He make mine avow to God,
And alsoe to the Trinity,
7
'He never sleepe one night there as I doe another,
Till _tha_t round table I see:
S_ir_ Marramiles and S_ir_ Tristeram,
Fellowes _tha_t ye shall bee.
8
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
'Weele be clad in palmers weede,
Fiue palmers we will bee;
9
'There is noe outlandish man will vs abide,
Nor will vs come nye.'
Then they riued east and thé riued west,
In many a strange country.
10
Then they tranckled a litle further,
They saw a battle new sett:
'Now, by my faith,' saies noble King Arthur,
. . . . . . well .
* * * * * * *
11
But when he cam to this ... c ...
And to the palace gate,
Soe ready was ther a proud porter,
And met him soone therat.
12
Shooes of gold the porter had on,
And all his other rayment was vnto the same:
'Now, by my faith,' saies noble K_ing_ Arthur,
'Yonder is a minion swaine.'
13
Then bespake noble K_ing_ Arthur,
These were the words says hee:
'Come hither, thou proud porter,
I pray thee come hither to me.
14
'I haue two poore rings of my finger,
The better of them Ile giue to thee;
Tell who may be lord of this castle,' he sayes,
'Or who is lord in this cuntry?'
15
'Cornewall K_ing_,' the porter sayes,
'There is none soe rich as hee;
Neither in christendome, nor yet in heathen-nest,
None hath soe much gold as he.'
16
And then bespake him noble K_ing_ Arthur,
These were the words sayes hee:
'I haue two poore rings of my finger,
The better of them Ile giue thee,
If thou wilt greete him well, Cornewall K_ing_,
And greete him well from me.
17
'Pray him for one nights lodging and two meales meate,
For his love that dyed vppon a tree;
Of one ghesting and two meales meate,
For his loue that dyed vppon a tree.
18
'Of one ghesting, of two meales meate,
For his love that was of virgin borne,
And in the morning _tha_t we may scape away,
Either w_i_thout scath or scorne.'
19
Then forth is gone this proud porter,
As fast as he cold hye,
And when he came befor Cornewall K_ing_,
He kneeled downe on his knee.
20
Sayes, 'I haue beene porter-man, at thy gate,
This thirty winter and three ...
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
* * * * * * *
21
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
Our Lady was borne; then thought Cornewall K_ing_
These palmers had beene in Britt_aine_.
22
Then bespake him Cornwall King,
These were the words he said there:
'Did you euer know a comely k_ing_,
His name was King Arthur?'
23
And then bespake him noble K_ing_ Arthur,
These were the words said hee:
'I doe not know that comly k_ing_,
But once my selfe I did him see.'
Then bespake Cornwall K_ing_ againe,
These were the words said he:
24
Sayes, 'Seuen yeere I was clad and fed,
In Litle Brittaine, in a bower;
I had a daughter by K_ing_ Arthurs wife,
_Tha_t now is called my flower;
For K_ing_ Arthur, that kindly cockward,
Hath none such in his bower.
25
'For I durst sweare, and saue my othe,
_Tha_t same lady soe bright,
That a man _tha_t were laid on his death bed
Wold open his eyes on her to haue sight.'
'Now, by my faith,' sayes noble K_ing_ Arthur,
'And that's a full faire wight!'
26
And then bespake Cornewall [King] againe,
And these were the words he said:
'Come hither, fiue or three of my knights,
And feitch me downe my steed;
King Arthur, that foule cockeward,
Hath none such, if he had need.
27
'For I can ryde him as far on a day
As King Arthur can doe any of his on three;
And is it not a pleasure for a k_ing_
When he shall ryde forth on his iourney?
28
'For the eyes that beene in his head,
Thé glister as doth the gleed.'
'Now, by my faith,' says noble King Arthur,
'_Tha_t is a well faire steed.'
* * * * * * *
29
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
'Nobody say . . . .
But one _that_'s learned to speake.'
30
Then K_ing_ Arthur to his bed was brought,
A greeiued man was hee;
And soe were all his fellowes with him,
From him thé thought neuer to flee.
31
Then take they did that lodly groome,
And under the rub-chadler closed was hee,
And he was set by K_ing_ Arthurs bed-side,
To heere theire talke and theire comu_n_ye;
32
_Tha_t he might come forth, and make p_ro_clamation,
Long before it was day;
It was more for K_ing_ Cornwalls pleasure,
Then it was for K_ing_ Arthurs pay.
33
And when K_ing_ Arthur in his bed was laid,
These were the words said hee:
'Ile make mine avow to God,
And alsoe to the Trinity,
That Ile be the bane of Cornwall Kinge,
Litle Brittaine or euer I see!'
34
'It is an vnaduised vow,' saies Gawaine the gay,
'As ever k_ing_ hard make I;
But wee _tha_t beene fiue Christian men,
Of the christen faith are wee,
And we shall fight against anoynted k_ing_
And all his armorie.'
35
And then bespake him noble Arthur,
And these were the words said he:
'Why, if thou be afraid, S_ir_ Gawaine the gay,
Goe home, and drinke wine in thine owne country.'
36
And then bespake S_i_r Gawaine the gay,
And these were the words said hee:
'Nay, seeing you have made such a hearty vow,
Heere another vow make will I.
37
'Ile make mine avow to God,
And alsoe to the Trinity,
_Tha_t I will haue yonder faire lady
To Litle Brittaine with mee.
38
'Ile hose her hourly to my heart,
And with her Ile worke my will;'
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
* * * * * * *
39
. . . . . . .
These were the words sayd hee:
'Befor I wold wrestle with yonder feend,
It is better be drowned in the sea.'
40
And then, bespake S_i_r Bredbeddle,
And these were the words said he:
'Why, I will wrestle w_i_th yon lodly feend,
God, my gouernor thou wilt bee!'
41
Then bespake him noble Arthur,
And these were the words said he:
'What weapons wilt thou haue, thou gentle knight?
I pray thee tell to me.'
42
He sayes, 'Collen brand Ile haue in my hand,
And a Millaine knife fast by me knee,
And a Danish axe fast in my hands,
_Tha_t a sure weapon I thinke wilbe.'
43
Then with his Collen brand _tha_t he had in his hand
The bunge of that rub-chandler he burst in three;
W_i_th that start out a lodly feend,
W_i_th seuen heads, and one body.
44
The fyer towards the element flew,
Out of his mouth, where was great plentie;
The knight stoode in the middle and fought,
_Tha_t it was great ioy to see.
45
Till his Collaine brand brake in his hand,
And his Millaine knife burst on his knee,
And then the Danish axe burst in his hand first,
That a sur weapon he thought shold be.
46
But now is the knight left w_i_thout any weapons,
And alacke! it was the more pitty;
But a surer weapon then he had one,
Had neuer l_ord_ in Christentye;
And all was but one litle booke,
He found it by the side of the sea.
47
He found it at the sea-side,
Wrucked upp in a floode;
Our L_ord_ had written it w_i_th his hands,
And sealed it w_i_th his bloode.
* * * * * * *
48
'That thou doe not s ...
But ly still in that wall of stone,
Till I haue beene with noble K_ing_ Arthur,
And told him what I haue done.'
49
And when he came to the k_ing_s chamber,
He cold of his curtesie:
Says, 'Sleepe you, wake you, noble K_ing_ Arthur?
And euer Iesus waken yee!'
50
'Nay, I am not sleeping, I am waking,'
These were the words said hee;
'Ffor thee I haue card; how hast thou fared?
O gentle knight, let me see.'
51
The knight wrought the k_ing_ his booke,
Bad him behold, reede and see;
And euer he found it on the backside of the leafe
As noble Arthur wold wish it to be.
52
And then bespake him K_ing_ Arthur,
'Alas! thow gentle knight, how may this be,
That I might see him in the same licknesse
_Tha_t he stood vnto thee?'
53
And then bespake him the Greene Knight,
These were the words said hee:
'If youle stand stifly in the battell stronge,
For I haue won all the victory.'
54
Then bespake him the k_ing_ againe,
And these were the words said hee:
'If wee stand not stifly in this battell strong,
Wee are worthy to be hanged all on a tree.'
55
Then bespake him the Greene Knight,
These were the words said he:
Saies, 'I doe coniure thee, thou fowle feend,
In the same licknesse thou stood vnto me.'
56
W_i_th that start out a lodly feend,
W_i_th seuen heads, and one body;
The fier towards the element flaugh,
Out of his mouth, where was great plenty.
57
The knight stood in the middle p ...
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
* * * * * * *
58
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
... they stood the space of an houre,
I know not what they did.
59
And then bespake him the Greene Knight,
And these were the words said he:
Saith, 'I coniure thee, thou fowle feend,
_Tha_t thou feitch downe the steed that we see.'
60
And then forth is gone Burlow-beanie,
As fast as he cold hie,
And feitch he did _tha_t faire steed,
And came againe by and by.
61
Then bespake him S_ir_ Marramiles,
And these were the words said hee:
'Riding of this steed, brother Bredbeddle,
The mastery belongs to me.'
62
Marramiles tooke the steed to his hand,
To ryd him he was full bold;
He cold noe more make him goe
Then a child of three yeere old.
63
He laid vppon him w_i_th heele and hand,
W_i_th yard that was soe fell;
'Helpe! brother Bredbeddle,' says Marramile,
'For I thinke he be the devill of hell.
64
'Helpe! brother Bredbeddle,' says Marramile,
'Helpe! for Christs pittye;
Ffor w_i_thout thy help, brother Bredbeddle,
He will neuer be rydden for me.'
65
Then bespake him S_ir_ Bredbeddle,
These were the words said he:
'I coniure thee, thou Burlow-beane,
Thou tell me how this steed was riddin in his country.'
66
He saith, 'there is a gold wand
Stands in K_ing_ Cornwalls study windowe;
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .