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From Ritual to Romance

J >> Jessie L. Weston >> From Ritual to Romance




In face of the proofs which will be found in these pages I do not
think any fair-minded critic will be inclined to dispute any longer
the origin of the 'Holy' Grail; after all it is as august and ancient
an origin as the most tenacious upholder of Its Christian character
could desire.

But I should wish it clearly to be understood that the aim of these
studies is, as indicated in the title, to determine the origin of the
Grail, not to discuss the provenance and interrelation of the
different versions. I do not believe this latter task can be
satisfactorily achieved unless and until we are of one accord as to
the character of the subject matter. When we have made up our minds
as to what the Grail really was, and what it stood for, we shall be
able to analyse the romances; to decide which of them contains more,
which less, of the original matter, and to group them accordingly.
On this point I believe that the table of descent, printed in Volume II.
of my Perceval studies is in the main correct, but there is still
much analytical work to be done, in particular the establishment of
the original form of the Perlesvaus is highly desirable. But apart
from the primary object of these studies, and the results therein
obtained, I would draw attention to the manner in which the evidence
set forth in the chapters on the Mystery cults, and especially that on
The Naassene Document, a text of extraordinary value from more than
one point of view, supports and complements the researches of Sir
J. G. Frazer. I am, of course, familiar with the attacks directed
against the 'Vegetation' theory, the sarcasms of which it has been the
object, and the criticisms of what is held in some quarters to be the
exaggerated importance attached to these Nature cults. But in view of
the use made of these cults as the medium of imparting high spiritual
teaching, a use which, in face of the document above referred to, can
no longer be ignored or evaded, are we not rather justified in asking
if the true importance of the rites has as yet been recognized? Can we
possibly exaggerate their value as a factor in the evolution of
religious consciousness?

Such a development of his researches naturally lay outside the range
of Sir J. G. Frazer's work, but posterity will probably decide that,
like many another patient and honest worker, he 'builded better than
he knew.'

I have carefully read Sir W. Ridgeway's attack on the school in his
Dramas and Dramatic Dances, and while the above remarks explain my
position with regard to the question as a whole, I would here take the
opportunity of stating specifically my grounds for dissenting from
certain of the conclusions at which the learned author arrives. I do
not wish it to be said: "This is all very well, but Miss Weston
ignores the arguments on the other side." I do not ignore, but I do
not admit their validity. It is perfectly obvious that Sir
W. Ridgeway's theory, reduced to abstract terms, would result in the
conclusion that all religion is based upon the cult of the Dead, and
that men originally knew no gods but their grandfathers, a theory from
which as a student of religion I absolutely and entirely dissent. I
can understand that such Dead Ancestors can be looked upon as
Protectors, or as Benefactors, but I see no ground for supposing that
they have ever been regarded as Creators, yet it is precisely as
vehicle for the most lofty teaching as to the Cosmic relations
existing between God and Man, that these Vegetation cults were
employed. The more closely one studies pre-Christian Theology, the
more strongly one is impressed with the deeply, and daringly,
spiritual character of its speculations, and the more doubtful it
appears that such teaching can depend upon the unaided processes of
human thought, or can have been evolved from such germs as we find
among the supposedly 'primitive' peoples, such as e.g. the Australian
tribes. Are they really primitive? Or are we dealing, not with the
primary elements of religion, but with the disjecta membra of a
vanished civilization? Certain it is that so far as historical
evidence goes our earliest records point to the recognition of
a spiritual, not of a material, origin of the human race; the Sumerian
and Babylonian Psalms were not composed by men who believed themselves
the descendants of 'witchetty grubs.' The Folk practices and
ceremonies studied in these pages, the Dances, the rough Dramas, the
local and seasonal celebrations, do not represent the material out of
which the Attis-Adonis cult was formed, but surviving fragments of a
worship from which the higher significance has vanished.

Sir W. Ridgeway is confident that Osiris, Attis, Adonis, were all at
one time human beings, whose tragic fate gripped hold of popular
imagination, and led to their ultimate deification. The first-named
cult stands on a somewhat different basis from the others, the
beneficent activities of Osiris being more widely diffused, more
universal in their operation. I should be inclined to regard the
Egyptian deity primarily as a Culture Hero, rather than a Vegetation
God.

With regard to Attis and Adonis, whatever their original character
(and it seems to me highly improbable that there should have been two
youths each beloved by a goddess, each victim of a similar untimely
fate), long before we have any trace of them both have become so
intimately identified with the processes of Nature that they have
ceased to be men and become gods, and as such alone can we deal with
them. It is also permissible to point out that in the case of Tammuz,
Esmun, and Adonis, the title is not a proper name, but a vague
appellative, denoting an abstract rather than a concrete origin.
Proof of this will be found later. Sir W. Ridgeway overlooks the fact
that it is not the tragic death of Attis-Adonis which is of importance
for these cults, but their subsequent restoration to life, a feature
which cannot be postulated of any ordinary mortal.

And how are we to regard Tammuz, the prototype of all these deities?
Is there any possible ground for maintaining that he was ever a man?
Prove it we cannot, as the records of his cult go back thousands of
years before our era. Here, again, we have the same dominant feature;
it is not merely the untimely death which is lamented, but the
restoration to life which is celebrated.

Throughout the whole study the author fails to discriminate between
the activities of the living, and the dead, king. The Dead king may,
as I have said above, be regarded as the Benefactor, as the
Protector, of his people, but it is the Living king upon whom their
actual and continued prosperity depends. The detail that the ruling
sovereign is sometimes regarded as the re-incarnation of the original
founder of the race strengthens this point--the king never dies--Le
Roi est mort, Vive le Roi is very emphatically the motto of this
Faith. It is the insistence on Life, Life continuous, and
ever-renewing, which is the abiding characteristic of these cults, a
characteristic which differentiates them utterly and entirely from the
ancestral worship with which Sir W. Ridgeway would fain connect them.

Nor are the arguments based upon the memorial rites of definitely
historical heroes, of comparatively late date, such as Hussein and
Hossein, of any value here. It is precisely the death, and not the
resurrection, of the martyr which is of the essence of the Muharram.
No one contends that Hussein rose from the dead, but it is precisely
this point which is of primary importance in the Nature cults; and Sir
W. Ridgeway must surely be aware that Folk-lorists find in this very
Muharram distinct traces of borrowing from the earlier Vegetation rites.

The author triumphantly asserts that the fact that certain Burmese
heroes and heroines are after death reverenced as tree spirits 'sets
at rest for ever' the belief in abstract deities. But how can he be
sure that the process was not the reverse of that which he postulates,
i.e., that certain natural objects, trees, rivers, etc., were not
regarded as sacred before the Nats became connected with them? That
the deified human beings were not after death assigned to places
already held in reverence? Such a possibility is obvious to any
Folk-lore student, and local traditions should in each case be
carefully examined before the contrary is definitely asserted.

So far as the origins of Drama are concerned the Ode quoted later from
the Naassene Document is absolute and definite proof of the close
connection existing between the Attis Mystery ritual, and dramatic
performances, i.e., Attis regarded in his deified, Creative, 'Logos,'
aspect, not Attis, the dead youth.

Nor do I think that the idea of 'Mana' can be lightly dismissed as 'an
ordinary case of relics.' The influence may well be something
entirely apart from the continued existence of the ancestor, an
independent force, assisting him in life, and transferring itself
after death to his successor. A 'Magic' Sword or Staff is not
necessarily a relic; Medieval romance supplies numerous instances of
self-acting weapons whose virtue in no wise depends upon their
previous owner, as e.g. the Sword in Le Chevalier à l'Épée, or the
Flaming Lance of the Chevalier de la Charrette. Doubtless the cult of
Ancestors plays a large rôle in the beliefs of certain peoples, but it
is not a sufficiently solid foundation to bear the weight of the
super-structure Sir W. Ridgeway would fain rear upon it, while it
differs too radically from the cults he attacks to be used as an
argument against them; the one is based upon Death, the other on Life.

Wherefore, in spite of all the learning and ingenuity brought to bear
against it, I avow myself an impenitent believer in Sir J. G. Frazer's
main theory, and as I have said above, I hold that theory to be of
greater and more far-reaching importance than has been hitherto
suspected.

I would add a few words as to the form of these studies--they may be
found disconnected. They have been written at intervals of time
extending over several years, and my aim has been to prove the
essentially archaic character of all the elements composing the Grail
story rather than to analyse the story as a connected whole. With this
aim in view I have devoted chapters to features which have now either
dropped out of the existing versions, or only survive in a subordinate
form, e.g. the chapters on The Medicine Man, and The Freeing of the
Waters. The studies will, I hope, and believe, be accepted as offering
a definite contribution towards establishing the fundamental character
of our material; as stated above, when we are all at one as to what
the Holy Grail really was, and is, we can then proceed with some
hope of success to criticize the manner in which different writers
have handled the inspiring theme, but such success seems to be
hopeless so long as we all start from different, and often utterly
irreconcilable, standpoints and proceed along widely diverging roads.
One or another may, indeed, arrive at the goal, but such unanimity of
opinion as will lend to our criticism authoritative weight is,
on such lines, impossible of achievement.



CHAPTER II

The Task of the Hero

As a first step towards the successful prosecution of an investigation
into the true nature and character of the mysterious object we know as
the Grail it will be well to ask ourselves whether any light may be
thrown upon the subject by examining more closely the details of the
Quest in its varying forms; i.e., what was the precise character of
the task undertaken by, or imposed upon, the Grail hero, whether that
hero were Gawain, Perceval, or Galahad, and what the results to
be expected from a successful achievement of the task. We shall find
at once a uniformity which assures us of the essential identity of the
tradition underlying the varying forms, and a diversity indicating
that the tradition has undergone a gradual, but radical, modification
in the process of literary evolution. Taken in their relative order
the versions give the following result.

GAWAIN (Bleheris). Here the hero sets out on his journey with no
clear idea of the task before him. He is taking the place of a knight
mysteriously slain in his company, but whither he rides, and why,
he does not know, only that the business is important and pressing.
From the records of his partial success we gather that he ought to have
enquired concerning the nature of the Grail, and that this enquiry
would have resulted in the restoration to fruitfulness of a Waste
Land, the desolation of which is, in some manner, not clearly
explained, connected with the death of a knight whose name and
identity are never disclosed. "Great is the loss that ye lie thus,
'tis even the destruction of kingdoms, God grant that ye be avenged,
so that the folk be once more joyful and the land repeopled which by
ye and this sword are wasted and made void."[1] The fact that Gawain
does ask concerning the Lance assures the partial restoration of the
land; I would draw attention to the special terms in which this is
described: "for so soon as Sir Gawain asked of the Lance...the waters
flowed again thro' their channel, and all the woods were turned to
verdure."[2]

Diû Crône. Here the question is more general in character; it affects
the marvels beheld, not the Grail alone; but now the Quester is
prepared, and knows what is expected of him. The result is to break
the spell which retains the Grail King in a semblance of life, and we
learn, by implication, that the land is restored to fruitfulness: "yet
had the land been waste, but by his coming had folk and land alike
been delivered."[3] Thus in the earliest preserved, the GAWAIN form,
the effect upon the land appears to be the primary result of the
Quest.

PERCEVAL. The Perceval versions, which form the bulk of the existing
Grail texts, differ considerably the one from the other, alike in the
task to be achieved, and the effects resulting from the hero's
success, or failure. The distinctive feature of the Perceval version
is the insistence upon the sickness, and disability of the ruler of
the land, the Fisher King. Regarded first as the direct cause of the
wasting of the land, it gradually assumes overwhelming importance, the
task of the Quester becomes that of healing the King, the restoration
of the land not only falls into the background but the operating cause
of its desolation is changed, and finally it disappears from the story
altogether. One version, alone, the source of which is, at present,
undetermined, links the PERCEVAL with the GAWAIN form; this is the
version preserved in the Gerbert continuation of the Perceval of
Chrétien de Troyes. Here the hero having, like Gawain, partially
achieved the task, but again like Gawain, having failed satisfactorily
to resolder the broken sword, wakes, like the earlier hero, to find
that the Grail Castle has disappeared, and he is alone in a flowery
meadow. He pursues his way through a land fertile, and well-peopled
and marvels much, for the day before it had been a waste desert.
Coming to a castle he is received by a solemn procession, with great
rejoicing; through him the folk have regained the land and goods which
they had lost. The mistress of the castle is more explicit. Perceval
had asked concerning the Grail:

"par coi amendé
Somes, en si faite maniére
Qu'en ceste regne n'avoit riviére
Qui ne fust gaste, ne fontaine.
E la terre gaste et soutaine."

Like Gawain he has 'freed the waters' and thus restored the land.[4]

In the prose Perceval the motif of the Waste Land has disappeared, the
task of the hero consists in asking concerning the Grail, and by so
doing, to restore the Fisher King, who is suffering from extreme old
age, to health, and youth.[5]

"Se tu eusses demandé quel'en on faisoit, que li rois ton aiol fust
gariz de l'enfermetez qu'il a, et fust revenu en sa juventé."

When the question has been asked: "Le rois péschéor estoit gariz et
tot muez de sa nature." "Li rois peschiére estoit mués de se nature et
estoit garis de se maladie, et estoit sains comme pissons."[6] Here
we have the introduction of a new element, the restoration to youth of
the sick King.

In the Perceval of Chrétien de Troyes we find ourselves in presence
of certain definite changes, neither slight, nor unimportant,
upon which it seems to me insufficient stress has hitherto been laid.
The question is changed; the hero no longer asks what the Grail is,
but (as in the prose Perceval) whom it serves? a departure from an
essential and primitive simplicity--the motive for which is apparent
in Chrétien, but not in the prose form, where there is no enigmatic
personality to be served apart. A far more important change is that,
while the malady of the Fisher King is antecedent to the hero's visit,
and capable of cure if the question be asked, the failure to fulfil
the prescribed conditions of itself entails disaster upon the land.
Thus the sickness of the King, and the desolation of the land, are not
necessarily connected as cause and effect, but, a point which seems
hitherto unaccountably to have been overlooked, the latter is directly
attributable to the Quester himself.[7]

"Car se tu demandé l'eusses
Li rice roi qui moult s'esmaie
Fust or tost garis de sa plaie
Et si tenist sa tière en pais
Dont il n'en tenra point jamais,"

but by Perceval's failure to ask the question he has entailed dire
misfortune upon the land:

"Dames en perdront lor maris,
Tiéres en seront essiliés,
Et pucielles desconselliés
Orfenes, veves, en remanront
Et maint chevalier en morront."[8]

This idea, that the misfortunes of the land are not antecedent to, but
dependent upon, the hero's abortive visit to the Grail Castle, is
carried still further by the compiler of the Perlesvaus, where the
failure of the predestined hero to ask concerning the office of the
Grail is alone responsible for the illness of the King and the
misfortunes of the country. "Une grans dolors est avenue an terre
novelement par un jeune chevalier qui fu herbergiez an l'ostel au
riche roi Peschéor, si aparut à lui li saintimes Graaus, et la lance
de quoi li fiers seigne par la poignte; ne demanda de quoi ce servoit,
ou dont ce venoit, et por ce qu'il ne demanda sont toutes les terres
comméues an guerre, ne chevalier n'ancontre autre au forest qu'il ne
li core sus, et ocie s'il peut."[9]

"Li Roi Pecheors de qui est grant dolors, quar il est cheüz en une
douleureuse langour--ceste langour li est venue par celui qui se
heberga an son ostel, à qui li seintimes Graaus s'aparut, por ce que
cil ne vost demander de qu'il an servoit, toutes les terres an furent
comméues en gerre."[10]

"Je suis cheüz an langour dès cele oure que li chevaliers se herberga
çoianz dont vous avez oï parler; par un soule parole que il déloia a
dire me vint ceste langour."[11]

From this cause the Fisher King dies before the hero has achieved the
task, and can take his place. "Li bons Rois Peschiéres est morz."[12]
There is here no cure of the King or restoration of the land, the
specific task of the Grail hero is never accomplished, he comes into
his kingdom as the result of a number of knightly adventures, neither
more nor less significant than those found in non-Grail romances.

The Perlesvaus, in its present form, appears to be a later, and more
fully developed, treatment of the motif noted in Chrétien, i.e.,
that the misfortunes of King and country are directly due to the
Quester himself, and had no antecedent existence; this, I would
submit, alters the whole character of the story, and we are at a loss
to know what, had the hero put the question on the occasion of his
first visit, could possibly have been the result achieved. It would
not have been the cure of the King: he was, apparently, in perfect
health; it would not have been the restoration to verdure of the Land:
the Land was not Waste; where, as in the case of Gawain, there is a
Dead Knight, whose death is to be avenged, something might have been
achieved, in the case of the overwhelming majority of the Perceval
versions, which do not contain this feature, the dependence of the
Curse upon the Quester reduces the story to incoherence. In one
Perceval version alone do we find a motif analogous to the earlier
Gawain Bleheris form. In Manessier the hero's task is not restricted
to the simple asking of a question, but he must also slay the enemy
whose treachery has caused the death of the Fisher King's brother;
thereby healing the wound of the King himself, and removing the woes
of the land. What these may be we are not told, but, apparently, the
country is not 'Waste.'[13]

In Peredur we have a version closely agreeing with that of Chrétien;
the hero fails to enquire the meaning of what he sees in the Castle of
Wonders, and is told in consequence: "Hadst thou done so the King
would have been restored to health, and his dominions to peace,
whereas from henceforth he will have to endure battles and conflicts,
and his knights will perish, and wives will be widowed, and maidens
will be left portionless, and all this because of thee."[14] This
certainly seems to imply that, while the illness of the Fisher King
may be antecedent to, and independent of, the visit and failure of the
hero, the misfortunes which fall on the land have been directly caused
thereby.

The conclusion which states that the Bleeding Head seen by the hero
"was thy cousin's, and he was killed by the Sorceresses of Gloucester,
who also lamed thine uncle--and there is a prediction that thou art to
avenge these things--" would seem to indicate the presence in the
original of a 'Vengeance' theme, such as that referred to above.[15]

In Parzival the stress is laid entirely on the sufferings of the King;
the question has been modified in the interests of this theme, and
here assumes the form "What aileth thee, mine uncle?" The blame
bestowed upon the hero is solely on account of the prolonged sorrow
his silence has inflicted on King and people; of a Land laid Waste,
either through drought, or war, there is no mention.

"Iuch solt' iur wirt erbarmet hân,
An dem Got wunder hât getân,
Und het gevrâget sîner nôt,
Ir lebet, und sît an saelden tôt."[16]

"Dô der trûrege vischaere
Saz âne fröude und âne trôst
War umb' iren niht siufzens hât erlôst."[17]

The punishment falls on the hero who has failed to put the question,
rather than on the land, which, indeed, appears to be in no way
affected, either by the wound of the King, or the silence of the
hero. The divergence from Chrétien's version is here very marked,
and, so far, seems to have been neglected by critics. The point is
also of importance in view of the curious parallels which are
otherwise to be found between this version and Perlesvaus; here the
two are in marked contradiction with one another.

The question finally asked, the result is, as indicated in the prose
version, the restoration of the King not merely to health, but also to
youth--

"Swaz der Frânzoys heizet flô'rî'
Der glast kom sinem velle bî,
Parzival's schoen' was nu ein wint;
Und Absalôn Dâvîdes kint,
Von Askalûn Vergulaht
Und al den schoene was geslaht,
Und des man Gahmurete jach
Dô man'n in zogen sach
Ze Kanvoleis sô wünneclîch,
Ir dechéines schoen' was der gelîch,
Die Anfortas ûz siecheit truoc.
Got noch künste kan genuoc."[18]

GALAHAD. In the final form assumed by the story, that preserved in
the Queste, the achievement of the task is not preceded by any failure
on the part of the hero, and the advantages derived therefrom are
personal and spiritual, though we are incidentally told that he heals
the Fisher King's father, and also the old King, Mordrains, whose life
has been preternaturally prolonged. In the case of this latter it is
to be noted that the mere fact of Galahad's being the predestined
winner suffices, and the healing takes place before the Quest is
definitely achieved.

There is no Waste Land, and the wounding of the two Kings is entirely
unconnected with Galahad. We find hints, in the story of Lambar, of a
knowledge of the earlier form, but for all practical purposes it has
disappeared from the story.[19]

Analysing the above statements we find that the results may be grouped
under certain definite headings:

(a) There is a general consensus of evidence to the effect that the
main object of the Quest is the restoration to health and vigour of a
King suffering from infirmity caused by wounds, sickness, or old age;

(b) and whose infirmity, for some mysterious and unexplained reason,
reacts disastrously upon his kingdom, either depriving it of vegetation,
or exposing it to the ravages of war.

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