Legends & Romances of Brittany

by Lewis Spence

There are several circumstances connected with this beautiful old tale which deeply impress us with a belief in its antiquity. The incident of the killing of the deer and the incurable nature of Gugemar’s wound are undoubtedly legacies from very ancient times, when it was believed to be unlucky under certain circumstances to kill a beast of the chase. Some savage races, such as the North American Indians, consider it to be most unlucky to slay a deer without first propitiating the great Deer God, the chief of the Deer Folk, and in fact they attribute most of the ills to which flesh is heir to the likelihood that they have omitted some of the very involved ritual of the chase. It will be remembered that Tristrem of Lyonesse also had an incurable wound, and there are other like instances in romance and myth.

The vessel which carries Gugemar over the sea is undoubtedly of the same class as those magic self-propelled craft which we meet with very frequently in Celtic lore, and the introduction of this feature in itself is sufficient to convince us of the Celtic or Breton origin of Marie’s tale. We have such a craft in the Grail legend in the Morte d’Arthur, in which Galahad finds precisely such a bed. The vessel in the Grail legend 302 is described as “King Solomon’s Ship,” and it is obvious that Marie or her Breton original must have borrowed the idea from a Grail source.

Lastly, the means adopted by the lovers to ensure one another’s constancy seem very like the methods of taboo. The knot that may not or cannot be untied has many counterparts in ancient lore, and the girdle that no man but the accepted lover may loose is reminiscent of the days when a man placed such a girdle around his wife or sweetheart to signify his sole possession of her. If a man could succeed in purloining a mermaid’s girdle she was completely in his power. So is it with fairies in an Algonquin Indian tale. Even so late as Crusading times many knights departing to fight in the Holy Land bound a girdle round their ladies’ waists in the hope that the gift would ensure their faithfulness.

The Lay of Laustic

The Lay of Laustic, or the Nightingale, is purely of Breton origin, and indeed is proved to be so by its title. “Laustic, I deem, men name it in that country” (Brittany), says Marie in her preface to the lay, “which being interpreted means rossignol in French and ‘nightingale’ in good plain English.” She adds that the Breton harper has already made a lay concerning it—added evidence that the tale is of Celtic and not of French origin.

In the ancient town of Saint-Malo, in Brittany, dwelt two knights whose valour and prowess brought much fame to the community. Their houses were close to one another, and one of them was married to a lady of surpassing loveliness, while the other was a bachelor. By insensible degrees the bachelor knight came to love 303 his neighbour’s wife, and so handsome and gallant was he that in time she returned his passion. He made every possible excuse for seeking her society, and on one pretext or another was constantly by her side. But he was exceedingly careful of her fair fame, and acted in such a way that not the slightest breath of scandal could touch her.

Their houses were separated by an ancient stone wall of considerable height, but the lovers could speak together by leaning from their casements, and if this was impossible they could communicate by sending written messages. When the lady’s husband was at home she was guarded carefully, as was the custom of the time, but nevertheless she contrived to greet her lover from the window as frequently as she desired.

In due course the wondrous time of spring came round, with white drift of blossom and stir of life newly awakened. The short night hours grew warm, and often did the lady arise from bed to have speech with her lover at the casement. Her husband grew displeased by her frequent absences, which disturbed his rest, and wrathfully inquired the reason why she quitted his side so often.

“Oh, husband,” she replied, “I cannot rest because of the sweet song of the nightingale, whose music has cast a spell upon my heart. No tune of harp or viol can compare with it, and I may not close my eyes so long as his song continues in the night.”

Now the lady’s husband, although a bold and hardy knight, was malicious and ungenerous, and, disliking to have his rest disturbed, resolved to deal summarily with the nightingale. So he gave orders to his servants to set traps in the garden and to smear every bough 304 and branch with birdlime in order that the bird might speedily be taken. His orders were at once carried out, and the garden was filled with nets, while the cruel lime glittered upon every tree. So complete were the preparations of the serving-men that an unfortunate nightingale which had made the garden its haunt and had filled it with music for many a night while the lovers talked was taken and brought to the knight.