[In the essay below, Baron focuses on Béroul's development of visual elements in three key scenes—the Pine Tree, Flour Trick, and Forest Hut Discovery—and suggests that the poet is able to create irony through his use of Mark as the point-of- view character.]

Béroul's twelfth-century Tristan has received considerable attention, but little has been said about its sophisticated narrative techniques and complex irony. The most brilliant of the recent studies, concerned almost exclusively with how the poem illustrates its twelfth-century Christian milieu, virtually ignore Béroul as craftsman and artist.¹ Earlier scholarship devoted itself either to the relationship of Le Roman de Tristan to other versions or to textual problems and questions of attribution. By implication this research has impugned the artistic merits of the poem, since investigations into the origin and development of the tradition were comparative and evolutionist. Eilhart von Oberg and Béroul were presented as gross and primitive in comparison with the subtle and brilliant Thomas and Gottfried.

Moreover, the impressiveness of Béroul's achievement was muted by repeated examinations of the poem's considerable textual problems and the related questions of authorship which Ernest Muret raised early in the century and which are still much discussed.² These studies dwell on the numerous contradictions of style and plot in Tristan, thus reiterating its inferiority by emphasizing its raggedness. The poem does not deserve such condemnation. Certainly there are inconsistencies in the narrative, but a careful reading suggests that Tristan is not a fractured whole but rather a series of self-contained episodes, many of which are highly finished. The poem's contradictions and “loose ends” must not blind us to those sections where Béroul's careful artistry is much in evidence. The most brilliant of these episodes, the “Pine Tree,” “Flour Trick,” and “Forest Hut Discovery,”³ are visually presented. Béroul's technique is especially appropriate since so much of the poem is about human observation and its illusions and deceptions.

Béroul's visual presentation is directed to us, his audience, and deals with characters as observers and with what they see—or think they see. We are, as it were, “outside” looking “in” as involved spectators of a narrative presentation that is itself primarily concerned with what is seen and who is seeing. In the episodes of the Flour Trick and Forest Hut Discovery, part of the focus is on symbolic objects which are vivid and concrete, distinctly and quickly visualized: blood, swords, rings. In the Pine Tree episode the lovers themselves, rather than details about them, are under observation as our attention is drawn to how they act and what they say. Most importantly of all, Béroul's handling of King Mark's perspective is central to his visual presentation. What we principally observe in all three episodes is the king as witness. Thus we are aware that we and the king are fellow spectators watching the same things, and that we view Mark in the very act of observing.

Béroul's visual presentation involves us closely with the narrative by making symbolic details vivid and immediate and also by giving us a special awareness of Mark's view, but there is yet a third aspect. Because our view involves both the objects under observation and Mark as observer, we are put in a position to evaluate the king's perceptions of what we both watch. We are able to consider two perspectives: the narrow, erroneous one of Mark and the comprehensive, accurate one afforded by the poet. As a result, we perceive the ironic contradictions between the actual realities we see and the illusory perceptions of the king. Stephen Nichols notes that “the poet plays upon the ambiguity of action, the difficulty of interpreting even what we see with our own eyes, to create an atmosphere of equivocation favorable to the young couple.”⁴ But Béroul does not seem to be primarily interested in dealing with the misjudgments of reality in order to throw a moral smoke screen over the lovers. His visual presentation, dealing with conflicting perspectives and observations, enables him to explore rather fully the possibilities for irony latent in these episodes. Their special brilliance derives in part from a kind of tension between the sharpness of detail and the special awareness of Mark's perspective which take us “into” the fiction, and the ironic dimension which keeps us “outside” and at a distance as we continually compare the illusions and distortions of the king's view with that given us by the poet.

Even with its fragmentary opening, in the initial episode Béroul is careful to set up this dual perspective of what takes place, for we watch the lovers' performance even as Mark does; but we also watch the king while the lovers keep their eyes on him and play directly to his responses in order to deceive him. They pretend to converse with each other while actually addressing the king, and their remarks direct our attention to his “hidden” presence in the tree above them. For example, we hear Iseut say “to” Mark as she talks with Tristan:

“S'or en savoit li rois un mot,
Mon cors seret desmenbré tot,
Et si seroit a mot grant tort;
Bien sai qu'il me dorroit la mort.”

(65-68)

And later:

“S'or savoit ceste chevauchie,
Cel sai je bien que ja resort,
Tristran, n'avreie contre mort.
S'un mot en puet li rois oïr
Que nos fuson ça asenblé,
Il me feroit ardoir en ré.”

(184-92)

Once the dialogue has made us aware of the spying king, almost every statement is ironic. For example, in the lines just quoted, it is obvious that Iseut plays on the verb savoir, contrasting what Mark “knows” and what she knows. Of course, the king is there and he sees the lovers' meeting, but he does not really know, does not really see, what takes place at all. It is important that we know and remember what really happens, and thus there are four accounts of the actual situation: Iseut's to Brangain (349-56); Béroul's summary (469-74); Mark's to the queen (476-92); and her version in reply (493-504).

With the lovers' deception clearly in mind—what actually took place—Béroul contrasts Mark's illusions, which are manifested after the lovers have parted. The king had been an alert spectator: “sus en l'arbre estoit / Out l'asenblee bien veüe / Et la raison tote entendue” (258-60). But he was deceived, as Mark himself states with unknowing irony: “‘or ai veü / Que li nains m'a trop deceü’” (265-66). He has indeed seen and been greatly deceived—but not by the dwarf.

Li rois de l'arbre est devalez;
En son cuer dit or croit sa feme
Et mescroit les barons du reigne,
Que li faisoient chose acroire
Que il set bien que n'est pas voire
Et qu'il a prové a mençonge.

(286-91)

Because we have witnessed what actually took place, we understand fully Mark's mistaken judgment. Ironically, he asserts that the basis for his certainty about the lovers' innocence is what he saw:

“Or puis je bien enfin savoir.
Se feüst voir, ceste asenblee
Ne feüst pas issi finee.
S'il s'amasent de fol'amor,
Ci avoient asez leisor,
Bien les veïse entrebaisier.
Ges ai oï si gramoier,
Or sai je bien n'en ont corage.
Porqoi cro je si fort outrage?”

(298-306)

Béroul builds this passage around Mark's equation of “vëoir” and “savoir,” whereas we realize that here they are antithetical. Seeing is not understanding; observation is not perception. The most devastating irony of all is Mark's attempt to summarize his reaction by quoting the proverb “Mot est fous qui croit tote gent” (308). Mark was fooled by the lovers even as they told him that he had been deceived by their enemies. Moreover, we realize—and Béroul restates the ironic contradiction over and over—that the king actually got the verification of the dwarf's accusation, but he interprets it, with the lovers' guidance, as exactly the opposite. His witnessing their meeting, rather than providing evidence for him of their guilt, serves as proof of their innocence. Iseut stresses what Mark had seen when she “confesses” to him about meeting Tristan:

“Se il m'amast de fole amor,
Asez en veïsiez senblant.
Ainz, par ma foi, ne tant ne quant
Ne veïstes qu'il m'aprismast
Ne mespreïst ne me baisast.
Bien senble ce chose certaine:
Ne m'amot pas d'amor vilaine.
Sire, s'or ne nos veïsiez,
Certes ne nos en creïsiez.”

(496-504)

Iseut is an effective actress, and Mark is inclined to believe her in any case; but the success of the deception is based primarily on his certainty that he can—indeed he must—believe what he saw.

We are not surprised that the king is deceived. Why should he not believe what he sees? The lovers' enemies had told him to do just that all along. We know of Mark's perspective and understand why he judges what he observes as he does, for we are spectators very much as he is. The performance takes place before us, and without our special knowledge we would know little more than the king. Béroul's Mark is not a fool, the folk-tale cuckold who is deceived according to his foolishness.⁵ The irony is not bitter here since it is based on the subtle contradiction between what Mark sees and thinks true and our view of what really is. By contrast, the Flour Trick episode works with a unified perspective because we are fellow witnesses with Mark and we see things almost identically. In addition, although the king's observations again get the main attention, the focus is on the symbolic objects of blood and flour. Tristan and Iseut are this time passive and somewhat in the background.

Following the lovers' successful deception of the king under the pine tree, there is a distinct break in the poem. Béroul speaks directly to his audience, and his general comments prepare us for a shift in the narrative: “Dex, qui puet amor tenir / Un an ou deus sanz descovrir? / Car amors ne se puet celer” (573-75). If under the pine tree the lovers were able to hide their affair, now it is to be revealed. Béroul's visual presentation is carefully adapted to this exposure. Everyone else has seen and knows of their adultery, and the enemies of the lovers again seek to show Mark proof of their accusations:

Qar, en un gardin, soz une ente,
Virent l'autrier Yseut la gente
Ovoc Tristran en tel endroit
Que nus hon consentir ne doit;
Et plusors foiz les ont veüz
El lit roi Marc gesir toz nus.

(589-94)

That Tristan and Iseut make love “soz une ente” recalls their previous deception of Mark beneath the pine tree; and the reference to the king's bed points to its focal position later on. Moreover, their love-making in the secluded garden and more boldly in the king's chamber echoes the earlier references to the lovers together: “Et a celé et voiant gent” (578). The king is persuaded to listen to the dwarf's plan to expose the lovers' adultery. Frocin says boastfully that when Mark sees them he will have all the proof he needs:

“Se Tristran l'aime folement,
A lui vendra a parlement;
Et s'il i vient, et ge nul sai,
Se tu nu voiz, si me desfai,
Et tuit ti home outreement.
Prové seront sanz soirement.”

(661-66)

All this readies Mark for his role as observer. We are prepared as well, wondering as we do if the accusations will be proved true or if the lovers will again deceive the king.

The visual presentation of the Flour Trick episode is controlled so that we focus on details of the setting which provide visible evidence of Tristan and Iseut's adultery. The spatial arrangement of the most crucial part of the setting is clearly outlined. Our attention is drawn to the lovers' two beds and the space between, all within the king's chamber: “Entre son lit et cel au roi / Avoit bien le lonc d'une lance” (694-95). We also quickly notice that the visual focus is on the white sheets and flour and the red blood from Tristan's wound. References to them begin to pile up as Béroul uses a variety of restatements to stress their importance. Earlier we were told of Frocin's bringing flour (673-77). We are not sure why, but the poet says that he is up to no good: “Qui pensast mais tel traïson?” (678). Then, with the arrangement of the bed-chamber in mind, our attention is directed to the flour as the dwarf carries out his plan in the space between the lovers' beds:

          Li nains la nuit en la chanbre ert:
Oiez conment cele nuit sert.
Entre deus liez la flor respant,
Que li pas allent paraisant,
Se l'un a l'autre la nuit vient.

(701-705)

Lest we ignore the visual term “paraisant,” Béroul makes certain we understand Frocin's scheme: “La flor la forme des pas tient” (706). Next there is a shift as Tristan's point of view is presented. He watches the dwarf and quickly realizes the meaning of what he sees:

Tristan vit le nain besuchier
Et la farine esparpellier.
Porpensa soi que ce devoit,
Qar si servir pas ne soloit;
Pus dist: “Bien tost a ceste place
Espandroit flor por nostre trace
Veer, se l'un a l'autre iroit.
Que iroit or, que fous feroit;
Bien verra mais se or i vois.”

(707-15)

Béroul intrudes to give us additional background information. Just as we were told with some elaboration about Frocin's earlier flour purchase, so do we now learn of the details connected with Tristan's wound in order that attention be drawn to the critical importance of the blood:

Le jor devant, Tristran, el bois,
En la janbe nafrez estoit
D'un grant sengler, mot se doloit.
La plaie mot avoit saignié.
Deslïez ert, par son pechié.
Tristran ne dormoit pas, ce quit.

(716-21)

Then we see the darkened royal chamber and Tristan poised on his bed ready to jump across the floured floor (725-30). The leap breaks open his wound, unbeknown to Tristan, and we see the red blood on the white background of sheets and floor:

Sa plaie escrive, forment saine;
Le sanc qui'nn ist les dras ensaigne.
La plaie saigne; ne la sent,
Qar trop a son delit entent.
En plusors leus li sanc aüne.

(731-35)

The repetition of “saine,” “sanc,” “ensaigne,” “sanc” rivets our attention. The immediacy of the presentation is reinforced by the consistent use of the present tense, and the poet's restatement emphasizes the blood-stained whiteness:

Au tresallir que Tristran fait,
Li sans decent (malement vait)
De la plaie sor la farine.
Ha! Dex, qel duel que la roïne
N'avot les dras du lit ostez!
Ne fust la nuit nus d'eus provez.
Se ele s'en fust apensee,
Mot eüst bien s'anor tensee.

(747-54)

When Mark is summoned, we are shown his observation of the same details. As before, Béroul's visual presentation involves a narrowing of focus. The king's view passes around the chamber, from Tristan, to the queen's bed, to the floor, and then to the blood where it has stained the white sheets and flour-covered floor:

                                        Tristran faisoit
Senblant conme se il dormoit;
Quar il ronfloit forment du nes.
Seus en la chanbre fu remés,
Fors tant que a ses piés gesoit
Pirinis, qui ne s'esmovoit,
Et la roïne an son lit jut.
Sor la flor, chauz, li sanc parut.
Li rois choisi el lit le sanc:
Vermel en furent li drap blanc,
Et sor la flor en pert la trace,
Du saut. Li rois Tristran menace.

(759-70)

Along with visual terms like “parut” and “pert” and “la trace,” details like “chauz, li sanc” arrest our attention, as does the contrast between “la flor,” “el lit,” “li drap blanc,” and “li sanc,” which is repeated three times.⁶ The visible difference between the whiteness of the bed, sheets, and flour and the red blood is striking. The visual impact is even more powerful because we are carefully prepared for Mark's role as witness. He is quite literally looking for something. It is his view of all this which dominates. He is the first to react as the sight of Tristan's bleeding leg proves the adultery:

Voient la janbe qui li saine.
“Trop par a ci veraie enseigne:
Provez estes,” ce dist li rois;
“Vostre escondit n'i vaut un pois.”

(777-80)

Although this static evidence provides even more powerful and convincing proof than the dwarf had planned, it is still precisely what the king, and we, had been prepared for.⁷ We were told we would see evidence of the lovers' guilt. There is little disparity between our judgment and Mark's about what we witness. The signs are clear and unmistakable; the vividness of the blood-stained whiteness cannot be denied. Béroul's sharp focus on these details stresses to us their impact on the king. This time there is no contradiction between our joint observations. Our understanding of Mark's view reinforces what we also see. Our shared perceptions grow out of our shared perspectives.

In the Forest Hut Discovery once again disparate and conflicting views are presented as Béroul provides a sharp focus on visualized details while exploring the ironies of contradictory observations. In this superbly handled episode. Béroul's visual presentation works most fully. In the first part Béroul focuses on those objects on which Mark's attention will later fix when he watches the sleeping lovers. Our view moves from larger background to smaller detail: from the forest hut, to the lovers in bed, to the separating sword, to their clothes, and finally to Iseut's ring (1801-15). Following this sequence, the focus shifts back to the bed, and we see the two fugitives making love.

Desoz le col Tristran a mis
Son braz, et l'autre, ce m'est vis,
Li out par dedesus geté;
Estroitement l'ot acolé,
Et il la rot de ses braz çainte.
Lor amistié ne fu pas fainte.
Les bouches furent pres asises,
Er neporquant si ot devises
Que n'asenbloient pas ensenble.

(1817-25)

Thus far the visual presentation has been concerned with our observations. Then the forester sees the sleeping lovers, and his view corroborates what we have seen. He goes immediately to Mark, telling him what he has observed: “‘Gel vi, poi a, ensenble o lui, / Fermement erent endormi. / Grant poor oi, quant la les vi’” (1892-94). With this information, Mark goes into the forest certain of the lovers' guilt; but he will reverse his opinion after seeing new evidence.

The visual presentation of the king's discovery at the forest hut follows the general sequence of the earlier handling of details. We follow Mark's perspective as his vision moves from item to item. The king enters the hut alone with his unsheathed sword. Once inside, standing over the sleeping lovers, he halts his intended blow because of what he sees. Contrary to the forester's report, Mark observes “qu'ele avoit sa chemise / Et q'entre eus deus avoit devise, / La bouche o l'autre n'ert jostee” (1995-97). As his view shifts to the naked sword between them and then to the clothed Tristan, the king is befuddled, for he had not expected what he now sees: “‘Dex!’ dist li rois, ‘ce que puet estre? / Or ai veü tant de lor estre, / Dex! je ne sai que doie faire’” (2001-2003). The lovers are not in a tight embrace; they are fully clothed and separated by Tristan's sword. Reviewing what he has been and what it signifies, Mark tries to decide if he can take what he sees as evidence of their loyalty to him:

“Bien puis croire, se je ai sens,
Se il s'amasent folement,
Ja n'i eüsent vestement,
Entrë eus deus n'eüst espee,
Autrement fust cest'asenblee.”

(2006-10)

Earlier we saw Tristan and Iseut making love (1816-28). Now, with Mark, we see them apart and understand how the king misjudges the scene. Convinced they are not lovers because of what he observes, he decides to spare them (2011-19). Perhaps it seems to us hopelessly foolish that he should believe them innocent because of the way they sleep on this one occasion. However, Mark's reaction is consistent with his character throughout most of the poem. He wants to believe that Tristan and Iseut are loyal to him, and this encourages his deluded judgment. Besides, from his reactions in the Flour Trick episode, we know he is prone to accept quite readily what he sees as proof of conduct. Our knowledge of his perspectives gives us an empathetic understanding of his misjudgment and the reasons behind it. As in the Pine Tree episode, our special perspective works against any tendency to ridicule the king as a fool.

Béroul continues to build his narrative around the same concrete, visible objects that have dominated our attention thus far, but the king's role and perspective are now expanded and elaborated. Mark is aware of the symbolic significance of his intended actions. He plans to use his sword, ring, glove, and their exchange as symbols of his state of mind—as we see, of his misinterpretation of the lovers' relationship. He will leave Tristan and Iseut visible signs of his compassion for them (2020-26). The full significance of Mark's actions is stressed by restatement. Béroul tells of Mark's plan as he conceives it (2027-38). Then he repeats the plan, focusing on the visualized symbolic objects of sword, glove, and ring as the king carries out the exchange:

          Li rois a deslïé les ganz,
Vit ensenble les deus dormanz,
Le rai qui sor Yseut decent
Covre des ganz mot bonement.
L'anel du doi defors parut:
Souef le traist, qu'il ne se mut.
Mot l'en sot bien li rois fors traire,
L'espee qui entre eus deus est
Souef oste, la soue i met.

(2039-50)

Béroul completes this episode with yet another perspective on these objects, that of Tristan and Iseut as they discover the symbols of the king's visit. When the lovers awaken after Mark's departure, they hurriedly examine the sword, glove, and ring.

Regarde el brant, l'osche ne voit:
Vit le pont d'or qui sus estoit,
Connut que c'est l'espee au roi.
La roïne vit en son doi
L'anel que li avoit doné,
Le suen revit du dei osté.
Ele cria: “Sire, merci!
Li rois nos a trovez ici.”

(2081-88)

The rapid repetition of the seeing verbs (“regarde,” “voit,” “vit,” “connut,” “vit,” “revit,” even “trovez”) suggests the confusion of the lovers' observations. They react immediately and misjudge what they observe:

“Or nos covient gerpir Morrois,
Qar mot li par somes mesfait.
M'espee a, la soue me lait:
Bien nos peüst avoir ocis.”
“Sire, voire, ce m'est avis.”
“Bele, or n'i a fors du fuïr.
Il nos laissa por nos traïr:
Seus ert, si est alé por gent,
Prendre nos quide, voirement.
Dame, fuion nos en vers Gales.”

(2090-99)

The lovers' misunderstanding is further emphasized when Tristan later tells Governal of their discovery and repeats his ignorance of the meaning of the king's sword, ring, and glove (2105-21). The symbolic objects which Mark left behind are interpreted in a manner exactly opposite to what he intended. This ironic contrast between the actual meaning of things as we have seen them to be and the lovers' misunderstanding parallels those ironies based on Mark's frequent misjudgments of reality. This episode thus deals with a double deception on which complex ironies are based. Both Mark and the lovers fail to comprehend what they see. The poet's visual presentation enables us to recognize the importance of the symbolic objects of sword, glove, and ring, and to experience the predicaments of Mark and the lovers because we have a view of reality against which we test their illusions. Not only are we aware of their misjudgments of what is, but our special perspective also enables us to perceive why they react as they do.

The discovery of the lovers in their “minnegrotte” is perhaps the most magnificent episode in all the versions of the Tristan romance. Certainly it is no exception in Béroul's poem, largely because it is the most successful example of his visual presentation: the focus is sharply on symbolic details; Mark's perspective is centrally and poignantly handled; and there are the ironies derived from conflicting views and judgments. In all three of his visually presented episodes, Béroul shows himself keenly aware of his audience as he works to involve us in the narrative by emphasizing the vividness of details and the directness of our understanding of a character's perspective. At the same time, he keeps us distant and “objective” by giving us a fuller and more accurate view of observed reality against which we measure the delusions and bad judgments of the characters. Not only is his technique appropriate to a poem so much about observing and judging observations, but the poet achieves a directness and clarity that are lacking elsewhere in his narrative by building these episodes around specifically visualized objects and actions and Mark's (or the lovers') views of them. Le Roman de Tristan is an uneven work, but in these three episodes Béroul's highly successful technique of visual presentation shows him as a narrative poet and ironist of considerable accomplishment indeed.

Notes

1. See especially Pierre Jonin, Les Personnages féminins dans les romans français de Tristan au XII^e siècle (Gap, 1958), pp. 339-72 et passim; P. Le Gentil, “La Legende de Tristan vue par Béroul et Thomas: Essai d'interprétation,” RPh [Romance Philology], 7 (1953-54), 111-29; John H. Fisher, “Tristan and Courtly Adultery,” CL [Comparative Literature], 9 (1957), 150-64; Rita Lejeune, “Les ‘influences contemporaines’ dans les romans français de Tristan au XII^e siècle,” MA [Medium Aevum], 66 (1960), 143-62; Jean Frappier, “Structure et sens du Tristan: Version commune, version courtoise,” CCM [Cahiers de Civilisation Medievale], 6 (1963), 255-80, 441-54; Stephen G. Nichols, Jr., “Ethical Criticism and Medieval Literature: Le Roman de Tristan,” in Medieval Secular Literature: Four Essays, ed. William Matthews (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1965), pp. 68-89; Donald Stone, Jr., “Realism and the Real Béroul,” ECr [Essays in Criticism], 5 (1965), 219-27; Renée L. Curtis, “The Abatement of the Magic in Béroul's Tristan,” Tristan Studies (Munich, 1969), pp. 28-35 (see also pp. 19-27, 36-53).

2. The most lucid analysis of the contradictions in the text and a review of the many different explanations are in Gweneth Whitteridge, “The Tristan of Béroul,” in Medieval Miscellany Presented to Eugène Vinaver, ed. F. Whitehead et al. (Manchester, 1965), pp. 337-56. See also G. Raynaud de Lage, “Faut-il attribuer à Béroul tout le Tristan?” MA, 64 (1958), 249-70; 67 (1961), 167-68; Micheline Hanoset, “Unité ou dualité du Tristan de Béroul?” MA, 67 (1961), 503-33; T. B. W. Reid, “The Tristan of Béroul: One Author or Two?” Modern Language Review, 60 (1965), 352-58; Anthony Holden, “Note sur la langue de Béroul,” Romania, 89 (1968), 387-99.

3. The Pine Tree episode consists of lines 1-572; the Flour Trick, lines 573-826; and the Forest Hut Discovery, lines 1774-2132. The text used is Béroul, Le Roman de Tristan, ed. Ernest Muret, rev. 4th ed. L. M. Defourques (Paris, 1966).

4. “Ethical Criticism,” p. 71. Medieval thinkers gave consideration to the problem of sensory perception and judgment. Some of the more extensive and provocative references are found in John of Salisbury's Metalogicon (1159), very nearly contemporary with Le Roman de Tristan. Speaking of the problems inherent in the judgment of truth, John emphasizes: “humana infirmitas, que tam ex conditione nature quam merito culpe multis patet erroribus, immo et capta labitur a prima et secunda puritate, degenerat in examinatione rerum, id est in exercitio rationis et, qui incertitudinis lubrico uacillat, apprehendit quod potest, et nunc ex fida rerum similitudine ueras exercet opiniones, nunc decepta uanis imaginibus falsas.” The unfortunate result is that man will be deceived, not just occasionally but repeatedly: “Et quidem propter fallacias sensuum et opinionum, uix in eius inuestigatione fideliter incedit; uix est in comprehensione secura; recolit enim se deceptam esse et posse decipi.” Ioannis Saresberiensis Episcopi Carnotensis, Metalogicon Libri IIII, ed. Clemens C. I. Webb (Oxford, 1929), p. 201 (IV, 33) and pp. 179-80 (IV, 14). In addition to Mark, several other characters make frequent wrong judgments about the nature and significance of what they observe. At Iseut's trial, even the great hero and friend of the lovers, King Arthur, is deceived. He expresses his credulity in terms we become familiar with: “‘la deraisne avon veüe / Et bien oïe et entendue’” (4235-36).

5. Perhaps largely because of its affinity with the folklore motif of the Pear Tree, this episode was one of the most popular of the Tristan story. See Helaine Newstead, “The Tryst Beneath the Tree: An Episode in the Tristan Legend,” RPh, 9 (1956), 269-84; and the examples reproduced in Roger Sherman Loomis and Laura Hibbard Loomis, Arthurian Legends in Medieval Art (New York, 1938), nos. 22, 73, 79, 83, 91-98, 116, 120-34.

6. Alberto Vàrvaro stresses the importance and impact of the blood in this scene in Il “Roman de Tristan” di Béroul (Turin, 1963), p. 214. See also François Rigolot, “Valeur figurative du vêtement dans le Tristan de Béroul,” CCM, 10 (1967), 447-53. Rigolot offers a valuable examination of Béroul's use of symbolic concrete details, which Vàrvaro terms “emblemi figurativi.”

7. Lejeune feels that the evidence is not all that conclusive: “Les taches de sang sur la farine ne constituent pas, à bien y réfléchir, un veritable ‘flagrant délit d'adultère’ mais bien une présomption de flagrant délit” (“Les ‘influences contemporaines,’” p. 147); Nichols concurs (“Ethical Criticism,” pp. 76-77). Both follow Jonin (Les Personnages féminins, pp. 61-62), who supports his point with elaborate references to medieval legal practice. However, we should remember that the dwarf wanted visible evidence to convince the king of the barons' accusations—rather than legal proof. Certainly, the sight of the blood stains on the flour and the sheets is more damning than the expected footprints from bed to bed of the original scheme.