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Books: Literary and Philosophical Essays

V >> Various >> Literary and Philosophical Essays




It was by this ideal and representative character that the Arthurian
legend had such an astonishing prestige throughout the whole world.
Had Arthur been only a provincial hero, the more or less happy
defender of a little country, all peoples would not have adopted
him, any more than they have adopted the Marco of the Serbs,
[Footnote: A Servian ballad-hero.] or the Robin Hood of the Saxons.
The Arthur who has charmed the world is the head of an order of
equality, in which all sit at the same table, in which a man's worth
depends upon his valour and his natural gifts. What mattered to the
world the fate of an unknown peninsula, and the strife waged on its
behalf? What enchanted it was the ideal court presided over by
Gwenhwyvar (Guinevere), where around the monarchical unity the
flower of heroes was gathered together, where ladies, as chaste as
they were beautiful, loved according to the laws of chivalry, and
where the time was passed in listening to stories, and learning
civility and beautiful manners.

This is the secret of the magic of that Round Table, about which the
Middle Ages grouped all their ideas of heroism, of beauty, of
modesty, and of love. We need not stop to inquire whether the ideal
of a gentle and polished society in the midst of the barbarian world
is, in all its features, a purely Breton creation, whether the
spirit of the courts of the Continent has not in some measure
furnished the model, and whether the Mabinogion themselves have not
felt the reaction of the French imitations;[Footnote: The surviving
version of the Mdbinogian has a later date than these imitations,
and the Red Book includes several tales borrowed from the French
trouveres. But it is out of the question to maintain that the really
Welsh narratives have been borrowed in a like manner, since among
them are some unknown to the trouveres, which could only possess
interest for Breton countries] it suffices for us that the new order
of sentiments which we have just indicated was, throughout the whole
of the Middle Ages, persistently attached to the groundwork of the
Cymric romances. Such an association could not be fortuitous; if the
imitations are all so glaring in colour, it is evidently because in
the original this same colour is to be found united to particularly
strong character. How otherwise shall we explain why a forgotten
tribe on the very confines of the world should have imposed its
heroes upon Europe, and, in the domain of imagination, accomplished
one of the most singular revolutions known to the historian of
letters?

If, in fact, one compares European literature before the
introduction of the Cymric romances, with what it became when the
trouveres set themselves to draw from Breton sources, one recognises
readily that with the Breton narratives a new element entered into
the poetic conception of the Christian peoples, and modified it
profoundly. The Carlovingian poem, both by its structure and by the
means which it employs, does not depart from classical ideas. The
motives of man's action are the same as in the Greek epic. The
essentially romantic element, the life of forests and mysterious
adventure, the feeling for nature, and that impulse of imagination
which makes the Breton warrior unceasingly pursue the unknown;--
nothing of all this is as yet to be observed. Roland differs from
the heroes of Homer only by his armour; in heart he is the brother
of Ajax or Achilles. Perceval, on the contrary, belongs to another
world, separated by a great gulf from that in which the heroes of
antiquity live and act.

It was above all by the creation of woman's character, by
introducing into mediaeval poetry, hitherto hard and austere, the
nuances of love, that the Breton romances brought about this curious
metamorphosis. It was like an electric spark; in a few years
European taste was changed. Nearly all the types of womankind known
to the Middle Ages, Guinevere, Iseult, Enid, are derived from
Arthur's court. In the Carlovingian poems woman is a nonentity
without character or individuality; in them love is either brutal,
as in the romance of "Ferebras," or scarcely indicated, as in the
"Song of Roland." In the "Mabinogion," on the other hand, the
principal part always belongs to the women. Chivalrous gallantry,
which makes the warrior's happiness to consist in serving a woman
and meriting her esteem, the belief that the noblest use of strength
is to succour and avenge weakness, results, I know, from a turn of
imagination which possessed nearly all European peoples in the
twelfth century; but it cannot be doubted that this turn of
imagination first found literary expression among the Breton
peoples. One of the most surprising features in the Mabinogion is
the delicacy of the feminine feeling breathed in them; an
impropriety or a gross word is never to be met with. It would be
necessary to quote at length the two romances of Peredur and Geraint
to demonstrate an innocence such as this; but the naive simplicity
of these charming compositions forbids us to see in this innocence
any underlying meaning. The zeal of the knight in the defence of
ladies' honour became a satirical euphemism only in the French
imitators, who transformed the virginal modesty of the Breton
romances into a shameless gallantry--so far indeed that these
compositions, chaste as they are in the original, became the scandal
of the Middle Ages, provoked censures, and were the occasion of the
ideas of immorality which, for religious people, still cluster about
the name of romance.

Certainly chivalry is too complex a fact for us to be permitted to
assign it to any single origin. Let us say however that in the idea
of envisaging the esteem of a woman as the highest object of human
activity, and setting up love as the supreme principle of morality,
there is nothing of the antique spirit, or indeed of the Teutonic.
Is it in the "Edda" or in the "Niebelungen" that we shall find the
germ of this spirit of pure love, of exalted devotion, which forms
the very soul of chivalry? As to following the suggestion of some
critics and seeking among the Arabs for the beginnings of this
institution, surely of all literary paradoxes ever mooted, this is
one of the most singular. The idea of conquering woman in a land
where she is bought and sold, of seeking her esteem in a land where
she is scarcely considered capable of moral merit! I shall oppose
the partizans of this hypothesis with one single fact,--the surprise
experienced by the Arabs of Algeria when, by a somewhat unfortunate
recollection of mediaeval tournaments, the ladies were entrusted
with the presentation of prizes at the Beiram races. What to the
knight appeared an unparalleled honour seemed to the Arabs a
humiliation and almost an insult.

The introduction of the Breton romances into the current of European
literature worked a not less profound revolution in the manner of
conceiving and employing the marvellous. In the Carlovingian poems
the marvellous is timid, and conforms to the Christian faith; the
supernatural is produced directly by God or his envoys. Among the
Cymry, on the contrary, the principle of the marvel is in nature
herself, in her hidden forces, in her inexhaustible fecundity. There
is a mysterious swan, a prophetic bird, a suddenly appearing hand, a
giant, a black tyrant, a magic mist, a dragon, a cry that causes the
hearer to die of terror, an object with extraordinary properties.
There is no trace of the monotheistic conception, in which the
marvellous is only a miracle, a derogation of eternal laws. Nor are
there any of those personifications of the life of nature which form
the essential part of the Greek and Indian mythologies. Here we have
perfect naturalism, an unlimited faith in the possible, belief in
the existence of independent beings bearing within themselves the
principle of their strength,--an idea quite opposed to Christianity,
which in such beings necessarily sees either angels or fiends. And
besides, these strange beings are always presented as being outside
the pale of the Church; and when the knight of the Round Table has
conquered them, he forces them to go and pay homage to Guinevere,
and have themselves baptised.

Now, if in poetry there is a marvellous element that we might
accept, surely it is this. Classical mythology, taken in its first
simplicity, is too bold, taken as a mere figure of rhetoric, too
insipid, to give us satisfaction. As to the marvellous element in
Christianity, Boileau is right: no fiction is compatible with such a
dogmatism. There remains then the purely naturalistic marvellous,
nature interesting herself in action and acting herself, the great
mystery of fatality unveiling itself by the secret conspiring of all
beings, as in Shakespeare and Ariosto. It would be curious to
ascertain how much of the Celt there is in the former of these
poets; as for Ariosto he is the Breton poet par excellence. All his
machinery, all his means of interest, all his fine shades of
sentiment, all his types of women, all his adventures, are borrowed
from the Breton romances.

Do we now understand the intellectual role of that little race which
gave to the world Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot, Perceval, Merlin, St.
Brandan, St. Patrick, and almost all the poetical cycles of the
Middle Ages? What a striking destiny some nations have, in alone
possessing the right to cause the acceptance of their heroes, as
though for that were necessary a quite peculiar degree of authority,
seriousness, and faith! And it is a strange thing that it is to the
Normans, of all peoples the one least sympathetically inclined
towards the Bretons, that we owe the renown of the Breton fables.
Brilliant and imitative, the Norman everywhere became the pre-
eminent representative of the nation on which he had at first
imposed himself by force. French in France, English in England,
Italian in Italy, Russian at Novgorod, he forgot his own language to
speak that of the race which he had conquered, and to become the
interpreter of its genius. The deeply suggestive character of the
Welsh romances could not fail to impress men so prompt to seize and
assimilate the ideas of the foreigner. The first revelation of the
Breton fables, the Latin Chronicle of Geoffrey of Monmouth, appeared
about the year 1137, under the auspices of Robert of Gloucester,
natural son of Henry I. Henry II. acquired a taste for the same
narratives, and at his request Robert Wace, in 1155, wrote in French
the first history of Arthur, thus opening the path in which walked
after him a host of poets or imitators of all nationalities, French,
Provencal, Italian, Spanish, English, Scandinavian, Greek, and
Georgian. We need not belittle the glory of the first trouveres who
put into a language, then read and understood from one end of Europe
to the other, fictions which, but for them, would have doubtless
remained for ever unknown. It is however difficult to attribute to
them an inventive faculty, such as would permit them to merit the
title of creators. The numerous passages in which one feels that
they do not fully understand the original which they imitate, and in
which they attempt to give a natural significance to circumstances
of which the mythological bearing escaped them, suffice to prove
that, as a rule, they were satisfied to make a fairly faithful copy
of the work before their eyes.

What part has Armorican Brittany played in the creation or
propagation of the legends of the Round Table? It is impossible to
say with any degree of precision; and in truth such a question
becomes a matter of secondary import once we form a just idea of the
close bonds of fraternity, which did not cease until the twelfth
century to unite the two branches of the Breton peoples. That the
heroic traditions of Wales long continued to live in the branch of
the Cymric family which came and settled in Armorica cannot be
doubted when we find Geraint, Urien, and other heroes become saints
in Lower Brittany; [Footnote: I shall only cite a single proof; it
is a law of Edward the Confessor: "Britones vero Armorici quum
venerint in regno isto, suscipi debent et in regno protegi sicut
probi cives de corpore regni hujus; exierunt quondam de sanguine
Britonum regni hujus."--Wilkins, Leges Anglo-Saxonicae, p. 206.]and
above all when we see one of the most essential episodes of the
Arthurian cycle, that of the Forest of Broceliande, placed in the
same country. A large number of facts collected by M. de la
Villemarrque [Footnote: "Les Romans de la Table-Ronde et les contes
des anciens Bretons" (Paris, 1859), pp. 20 et seq. In the "Contes
populaires des anciens Bretons," of which the above may be
considered as a new edition, the learned author had somewhat
exaggerated the influence of French Brittany. In the present
article, when first published, I had, on the other hand, depreciated
it too much.] prove, on the other hand, that these same traditions
produced a true poetic cycle in Brittany, and even that at certain
epochs they must have recrossed the Channel, as though to give new
life to the mother country's memories. The fact that Gauthier
Calenius, Archdeacon of Oxford, brought back from Brittany to
England (about 1125) the very text of the legends which were
translated into Latin ten years afterwards by Geoffrey of Monmouth
is here decisive. I know that to readers of the Mabinogion such an
opinion will appear surprising at a first glance, All is Welsh in
these fables, the places, the genealogies, the customs; in them
Armorica is only represented by Hoel, an important personage no
doubt, but one who has not achieved the fame of the other heroes of
Arthur's court. Again, if Armorica saw the birth of the Arthurian
cycle, how is it that we fail to find there any traces of that
brilliant nativity? [Footnote: M. de la Villemarque makes appeal to
the popular songs still extant in Brittany, in which Arthur's deeds
are celebrated. In fact, in his Chants populaires de la Bretagne two
poems are to be found in which that hero's name figures.]

These objections, I avow, long barred my way, but I no longer find
them insoluble. And first of all there is a class of Mabinogion,
including those of Owen, Geraint, and Peredur, stories which possess
no very precise geographical localisation. In the second place,
national written literature being less successfully defended in
Brittany than in Wales against the invasion of foreign culture, it
may be conceived that the memory of the old epics should be there
more obliterated. The literary share of the two countries thus
remains sufficiently distinct. The glory of French Brittany is in
her popular songs; but it is only in Wales that the genius of the
Breton people has succeeded in establishing itself in authentic
books and achieved creations.

IV.

In comparing the Breton cycle as the French trouveres knew it, and
the same cycle as it is to be found in the text of the Mabinogion,
one might be tempted to believe that the European imagination,
enthralled by these brilliant fables, added to them some poetical
themes unknown to the Welsh. Two of the most celebrated heroes of
the continental Breton romances, Lancelot and Tristan, do not figure
in the Mabinogion; on the other hand, the characteristics of the
Holy Grail are presented in a totally different way from that which
we find in the French and German poets. A more attentive study shows
that these elements, apparently added by the French poets, are in
reality of Cymric origin. And first of all, M. de la Villemarque has
demonstrated to perfection that the name of Lancelot is only a
translation of that of the Welsh hero Mael, who in point of fact
exhibits the fullest analogy with the Lancelot of the French
romances. [Footnote: Ancelot is the diminutive of Ancel, and means
servant, page, or esquire. To this day in the Cymric dialects Mael
has the same signification. The surname of Poursigant, which we find
borne by some Welshmen in the French service in the early part of
the fourteenth century, is also no doubt a translation of Mael.] The
context, the proper names, all the details of the romance of
Lancelot also present the most pronounced Breton aspect. As much
must be said of the romance of Tristan. It is even to be hoped that
this curious legend will be discovered complete in some Welsh
manuscript. Dr. Owen states that he has seen one of which he was
unable to obtain a copy. As to the Holy Grail, it must be avowed
that the mystic cup, the object after which the French Parceval and
the German Parsifal go in search, has not nearly the same importance
among the Welsh. In the romance of Peredur it only figures in an
episodical fashion, and without a well-defined religious intention.

"Then Peredur and his uncle discoursed together, and he beheld two
youths enter the hall, and proceed up to the chamber, bearing a
spear of mighty size, with three streams of blood flowing from the
point to the ground. And when all the company saw this, they began
wailing and lamenting. But for all that, the man did not break off
his discourse with Peredur. And as he did not tell Peredur the
meaning of what he saw, he forbore to ask him concerning it. And
when the clamour had a little subsided, behold two maidens entered,
with a large salver between them, in which was a man's head,
surrounded by a profusion of blood. And thereupon the company of the
court made so great an outcry, that it was irksome to be in the same
hall with them. But at length they were silent." This strange and
wondrous circumstance remains an enigma to the end of the narrative.
Then a mysterious young man appears to Peredur, apprises him that
the lance from which the blood was dropping is that with which his
uncle was wounded, that the vessel contains the blood and the head
of one of his cousins, slain by the witches of Kerloiou, and that it
is predestined that he, Peredur, should be their avenger. In point
of fact, Peredur goes and convokes the Round Table; Arthur and his
knights come and put the witches of Kerloiou to death.

If we now pass to the French romance of Parceval, we find that all
this phantasmagoria clothes a very different significance. The lance
is that with which Longus pierced Christ's side, the Grail or basin
is that in which Joseph of Arimathea caught the divine blood. This
miraculous vase procures all the good things of heaven and earth; it
heals wounds, and is filled at the owner's pleasure with the most
exquisite food. To approach it one must be in a state of grace; only
a priest can tell of its marvels. To find these sacred relics after
the passage of a thousand trials,--such is the object of Peredur's
chivalry, at once worldly and mystical. In the end he becomes a
priest; he takes the Grail and the lance into his hermitage; on the
day of his death an angel bears them up to Heaven. Let us add that
many traits prove that in the mind of the French trouvere the Grail
is confounded with the eucharist. In the miniatures which
occasionally accompany the romance of Parceval, the Grail is in the
form of a pyx, appearing at all the solemn moments of the poem as a
miraculous source of succour.

Is this strange myth, differing as it does from the simple narrative
presented in the Welsh legend of Peredur, really Cymric, or ought we
rather to see in it an original creation of the trouveres, based
upon a Breton foundation? With M. de la Villemarque we believe that
this curious fable is essentially Cymric. [Footnote: See the
excellent discussion of this interesting problem in the introduction
to "Contes populaires des anciens Bretons" (pp. 181 et seq.).] In
the eighth century a Breton hermit had a vision of Joseph of
Arimathea bearing the chalice of the Last Supper, and wrote the
history called the Gradal. The whole Celtic mythology is full of the
marvels of a magic caldron under which nine fairies blow silently, a
mysterious vase which inspires poetic genius, gives wisdom, reveals
the future, and unveils the secrets of the world. One day as Bran
the Blessed was hunting in Ireland upon the shore of a lake, he saw
come forth from it a black man bearing upon his back an enormous
caldron, followed by a witch and a dwarf. This caldron was the
instrument of the supernatural power of a family of giants. It cured
all ills, and gave back life to the dead, but without restoring to
them the use of speech--an allusion to the secret of the bardic
initiation. In the same way Perceval's wariness forms the whole plot
of the quest of the Holy Grail. The Grail thus appears to us in its
primitive meaning as the pass-word of a kind of free-masonry which
survived in Wales long after the preaching of the Gospel, and of
which we find deep traces in the legend of Taliessin. Christianity
grafted its legend upon the mythological data, and a like
transformation was doubtless made by the Cymric race itself. If the
Welsh narrative of Peredur does not offer the same developments as
the French romance of Parceval, it is because the Red Book of
Hergest gives us an earlier version than that which served as a
model for Chretien de Troyes. It is also to be remarked that, even
in Parceval, the mystical idea is not as yet completely developed,
that the trouvere seems to treat this strange theme as a narrative
which he has found already complete, and the meaning of which he can
scarcely guess. The motive that sets Parceval a-field in the French
romance, as well as in the Welsh version, is a family motive; he
seeks the Holy Grail as a talisman to cure his uncle the Fisherman-
King, in such a way that the religious idea is still subordinated to
the profane intention. In the German version, on the other hand,
full as it is of mysticism and theology, the Grail has a temple and
priests. Parsifal, who has become a purely ecclesiastical hero,
reaches the dignity of King of the Grail by his religious enthusiasm
and his chastity. [Footnote: It is indeed remarkable that all the
Breton heroes in their last transformation are at once gallant and
devout. One of the most celebrated ladies of Arthur's court, Luned,
becomes a saint and a martyr for her chastity, her festival being
celebrated on August 1st. She it is who figures in the French
romances under the name of Lunette. See Lady Guest, vol. i., pp.
113, 114.] Finally, the prose versions, more modern still, sharply
distinguish the two chivalries, the one earthly, the other mystical.
In them Parceval becomes the model of the devout knight. This was
the last of the metamorphoses which that all-powerful enchantress
called the human imagination made him undergo; and it was only right
that, after having gone through so many dangers, he should don a
monkish frock, wherein to take his rest after his life of adventure.

V.

When we seek to determine the precise moment in the history of the
Celtic races at which we ought to place ourselves in order to
appreciate their genius in its entirety, we find ourselves led back
to the sixth century of our era. Races have nearly always a
predestined hour at which, passing from simplicity to reflection,
they bring forth to the light of day, for the first time, all the
treasures of their nature. For the Celtic races the poetic moment of
awakening and primal activity was the sixth century. Christianity,
still young amongst them, has not completely stifled the national
cult; the religion of the Druids defends itself in its schools and
holy places; warfare against the foreigner, without which a people
never achieves a full consciousness of itself, attains its highest
degree of spirit. It is the epoch of all the heroes of enduring
fame, of all the characteristic saints of the Breton Church;
finally, it is the great age of bardic literature, illustrious by
the names of Taliessin, of Aneurin, of Liwarc'h Hen.

To such as would view critically the historical use of these half-
fabulous names and would hesitate to accept as authentic, poems that
have come down to us through so long a series of ages, we reply that
the objections raised to the antiquity of the bardic literature--
objections of which W. Schlegel made himself the interpreter in
opposition to M. Fauriel--have completely disappeared under the
investigations of an enlightened and impartial criticism. [Footnote:
This evidently does not apply to the language of the poems in
question. It is well known that mediaeval scribes, alien as they
were to all ideas of archaeology, modernised the texts, in measure
as they copied them; and that a manuscript in the vulgar tongue, as
a rule, only attests the language of him who transcribed it.] By a
rare exception sceptical opinion has for once been found in the
wrong. The sixth century is in fact for the Breton peoples a
perfectly historical century. We touch this epoch of their history
as closely and with as much certainty as Greek or Roman antiquity.
It is indeed known that, up to a somewhat late period, the bards
continued to compose pieces under the names--which had become
popular--of Aneurin, Taliessin, and Liwarc'h Hen; but no confusion
can be made between these insipid rhetorical exercises and the
really ancient fragments which bear the names of the poets cited--
fragments full of personal traits, local circumstances, and
individual passions and feelings.