Neophilologus (2013) 97:627–639

DOI 10.1007/s11061-012-9338-9

Rediscovering the Horse in Medieval French Literature

Paul H. Rogers

Published online: 7 November 2012

 Springer Science+Business Media Dordrecht 2012

Abstract Scholars of medieval French literature have often overlooked the horse
as a purveyor of complex meaning within a text not only because it is mentioned in
such works so often, but also because it is wholly common. The horse was one of
the earliest domesticated animals in humanity’s history, and as such, it has no
particular link to the realm of the merveilleux, superficially a source of creatures of
richer allegorical or esthetic interest. An encounter with a frightening monster such
as a dragon might represent a test of a knight’s martial skills or a challenge to his
piety, whereas in contrast, what could possibly be the importance of the horse, such
a ubiquitous, seemingly banal, inhabitant of the period’s literature? This study seeks
(1) to elucidate the conception of the horse on the part of the medieval cleric and
reader by exploring the mythical lore and contemporary bestiaries associated with
the animal, and (2) to define the horse’s function in medieval romance and epic
through an analysis of the relationship between the protagonist and his steed in
several seminal works, most notably La Chanson de Roland and Alexandre de
Paris’s Le Roman d’Alexandre.

Keywords Horse
Steed
Bestiary
Knight
Bucephalus
Alexander

Within both chansons de geste and medieval romance certain recurrent narrative
components appear with such frequency it is easy to overlook their potential
significance. For example, scenes of combat within both types of text are
commonplace, and the descriptions of such fights are so similar that the
contemporary reader tends to skim over them in search of more plot-significant
passages. Such repetitive features, reminders of a text’s lyrical origins, doubtless

P. H. Rogers (&)
Université Paul-Valéry, Montpellier III, France
e-mail: paul.rogers@univ-montp3.fr

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served in part to provide a predictable structure to the work, an invariable core

refrain for listeners to cling to, were the text sung. Similarly, elaborate descriptive
details of the knight’s weapons and armor and the other elements of his attire create
less of an impact on the reader because these components are considered integral to
the identity of the nobleman himself, and impressive though they may be, they
appear with great frequency in medieval romance and epics. The author relies
heavily on this sort of intricate minutia to impress his readers/listeners, and up to a
certain point, it would even be surprising if the cleric neglected to include such
descriptions. Thus, because readers of medieval texts take its presence for granted,
one of the most fundamental defining features of the knightly hero of such works,
namely his horse, does not receive much attention in literary analysis. Scholars often
disregard the horse not only because it is referred to with such persistent regularity
in medieval literature, but also because it is wholly common: one of the earliest
domesticated animals in humanity’s history, it is omnipresent in the literature of the
medieval period, and therefore does not belong at all to the realm if the merveilleux,
the seemingly bottomless font of unusual creations, mysteries, and wonders from
which many medieval writers drew their most powerful literary imagery. Creatures
such as the phoenix, the griffon, and the dragon, beasts derived from pagan or
oriental mythology typically have attracted more attention because they possess
specific symbolic functions in medieval texts. An encounter with a frightening
creature such as a giant lizard might represent a test of a knight’s martial prowess or
a challenge to his piety, a phoenix could signal a character’s rebirth, a snake a
Satanic emissary. An encounter with an animal one might consider nowadays to be
fairly unexceptional, the rhinoceros, within a twelfth-century roman antique,
becomes a life or death struggle, a test of strength with a frightening monster from
the mysterious kingdoms of the East and those strange realms near the earthly
paradise.1 In contrast, what is the importance of the horse, such a ubiquitous
inhabitant of the period’s literature? The goal of this study will be twofold: (1) to
gain an understanding of medieval man’s conception of the horse by exploring the
mythical lore and contemporary bestiaries associated with the animal, and then (2)
to attempt to define the horse’s function in medieval romance and epic by analyzing
the relationship between the protagonist and his steed in several works.
It would seem that people have always revered horses for their versatility and
strength, to the extent that they can be found in many of the pagan pantheons. The
early mother goddess of the Gauls, Epona, was the goddess of horses.2 Nordic
legends recount that when the wind howled through the forests it was the god Odin,
1
The rhinoceros appears in Alexandre de Paris’s Roman d’Alexandre, although here it is referred to as
the Dentirant. The descriptions of unfamiliar animals originated in texts such the popular and fictitious
Epistola Alexandri ad Aristotelem and from sources viewed as authoritative like Isidore of Seville’s
Etymologiae. These creatures would have seemed monstrous to audiences in Western Europe and as such
serve a symbolic function within such texts as the Roman d’Alexandre, representing all that is terrifying
and contrary to nature in the unknown lands to the east.
2
James MacKillop writes, ‘‘Epona’s cult originated in eastern Gaul near Alésia prior to its spread to
Britain; inscriptions and statues commemorating her are more numerous than for any other goddess…
Roman commentators noted her popularity with the cavalry, who erected her statue in stables. She was
the only Celtic deity ever placed in the pantheon, where she was remembered on December 18th’’ (2005,
p. 20).

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astride Sleipnir, his eight-legged steed, hurtling after his quarry on the Wild Hunt.
Within Saxon mythology, the horse, specifically a pale horse, was a symbol of great
power, ‘‘for it was a sacred link between Odin-the All-Father- and his people’’
(Howey 1923: 70). The names of the two heroes of the Saxons’ migration to the
British Islands, Hengist (the stallion) and Horsa, meant ‘‘horse’’, and were indicative
of their godlike nature.3 In the East, the Persians and the Indians also held the horse
in high esteem, and for them the image of a pure white horse could be either a
symbol of divine intelligence or a source of prophecy for use in divinatory rituals.4
And how can one forget the winged horse, Pegasus, from Greek mythology whose
hoof generated the Muses’ holy spring on Mount Helicon or the centaurs, half men,
half horse, among which the much admired Chiron stands out as the keeper of
curative lore and medicinal wisdom5? According to legend, the Greeks were so
impressed by the equestrian talent of the northern tribes that they considered the
riders to be one with their mounts, and thus the myth of the hybrid monster
originated. These centaurs were considered to be wild creatures enslaved by their
animal passions, and it is therefore not surprising that the horse was also commonly
associated with virility and phallic symbolism. Beryl Rowland in his book, Animals
with Human Faces: A Guide to Animal Symbolism, describes in detail the symbolic
significance of each of the horse’s body parts:
The leg and foot symbolize in folklore the male generative organ. The hoof
was therefore well-suited to symbolize the reproductive powers of both male
and female, and it appears in numerous legends and folktales as a life-creating
symbol. Striking infertile ground, the foot caused luxurious streams to gush
forth… The head with its glorious mane and upstanding ears was the
quintessence of the phallic animal. Its significance can be seen in the
hobbyhorse, the horse’s head on a pole which replaced Odin, the horse-god, in
religious processions… (1975, pp. 103–104).
If the horse has such a rich history as one of the fundamental symbols of virility, it is
logical to see why the knight, the embodiment of male power in medieval texts,
cannot be disassociated from his steed. A comparison of an entry in a text such as
the Aberdeen Bestiary for a creature such as the phoenix with the passage devoted to
the horse reveals dramatic differences. Whereas the text for the phoenix focuses on

3
Howey explains that, ‘‘The two chiefs were brothers and boasted their divine descent from the god
Woden. They were joined by five thousand Saxons in their invasion of Britain and spared neither age nor
sex in their bloody conquest’’ (1923, p. 71).
4
‘‘The ancient Persians sacrificed a horse every month to Cyrus at his famous tomb at Pasargadac. They
held white horses to be specially sacred and suited for sacrificial purposes, and when their army was on
the march some of these always accompanied it’’ (Howey 1923, p. 187).
5
Concerning this most famous of mythological figures, Howey explains the significance of Chiron, and
the extent to which his stature elevated him even posthumously. ‘‘[Chiron] lived, whilst on earth, in a
grotto at the foot of Mount Pelion, in which his reputation for knowledge made the most famous school in
Greece. Achilles and Hercules were among his pupils. The Argonauts visited him and Orpheus sang
before him. He was known as the Divine Beast. After his death he was placed by Jupiter among the stars.
There he is known as Sagittarius, the Archer. The constellation bearing his name is situated in the
southern zodiac below Aquila, between Scorpius and Capiricornus, … The symbol of the constellation
shows the Archer’s arrow and part of his bow’’ (1923, p. 227).

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the unusual beast’s fanciful particulars, the text on the horse is filled with practical
details such as what qualities to look for in a horse, and essential characteristics of
the various species. It is almost as if one is reading a modern-day horse buyer’s
guide:
The general view is that in horses of good pedigree… as the ancients said, you
look for four things: form, beauty, temperament, and color. As to form, the
body should be sound and firm; its height consistent with strength… As to
beauty, its head should be small and dry… As to temperament: it should be
bold of spirit, light-footed, with quivering limbs… The main colors to be
found are: golden, rosy, chestnut, tawny-red, pale yellow… (Folio 22v).
Entries concerning the horse in the bestiaries of the twelfth through the thirteenth
centuries are filled with practical information about what types of characteristics are
desirable in a steed or instructions for caring for the animal, as one sees in the De
Animalibus of Albertus Magnus. In fact, the lengthy chapter devoted to the horse is
nothing more than a practical guide to horse care; one finds enumerated within all of
the possible maladies or ailments from which a horse might suffer along with the
methods for accurate diagnosis and for going about curing the affliction. For
example, if one’s horse has eaten too much, the directions for aiding the animal are
very specific, and actually quite reasonable: one must prevent the horse from
drinking anything until it has digested the food. Then, if the problem persists after
2 days, one must boil a mixture of elderberry root in water and give it to the horse to
drink. This will mend the animal’s appetite (126, XXII). Similar solutions and cures
can be found for all sorts of problems ranging from eliminating the worms that
infect the horse’s mouth to convincing a stubborn steed to sleep in a stable.
The bestiaries, by the depth of their explanation, demonstrate how essential the
horse was to medieval man’s everyday life. One could easily compare the
comprehensiveness of practical instructions available concerning the horse with
similar texts dealing with human medicine. The horse has always been considered
an extremely valuable possession and its care should not be taken lightly. In Le
Débat dou cheval et dou lévrier, a fourteenth-century poem by Jean Froissart, the
whimsical dialogue between the hunting dog and the horse illustrates how
indispensable the horse was to travelers of the time. Throughout the text, Froissart
extols the virtues of the horse as both a weapon of war and as a wonderfully flexible
and valuable beast of burden. The dog in Froissart’s tale on several occasions
expresses his jealousy at the rich treatment the horse receives: at the end of the day’s
travel the horse’s owner generously feeds his steed oats and barley, verifies that he
is not injured, and will go so far as to cover the animal with his own cloak if it
appears to be injured. Medieval texts such as this one distinguish between three
main types of horse: the destrier, or knight’s warhorse, the palfrey, or common
traveling horse, and the sommier, or pack-horse.6 While one associates the palefroi
with the noble lady, the destrier is as integral a component of the chevalier as his
6
It is important to note that although some bestiaries often only identify these three main types of horse,
other medieval texts make reference to other varieties of horse as well. References can be found to the
coursier, or charger, a more common and slightly smaller warhorse than the destrier, and the mulet, a
hybrid between a male donkey and a female horse frequently used as a beast of burden.

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sword. Not only were horses a fundamental means of transportation, but they also
were extremely important as indicators of social rank.
Indeed the fighting nobility of medieval Europe used the warhorse to great effect,
relying on its natural tendency as a grazing animal to fight in herds. In her book, The
Medieval Warhorse: From Byzantium to the Crusades, Ann Hyland describes how
the stallion’s innate combative predisposition made it an effective weapon of war:
In a massed charge, herd instincts masked individuals that might have beat a
hasty retreat in a one-to-one conflict. Stallion aggression was useful. Stallions
saw other stallions as the enemy, not the riders. Rapid movements in battle
incited horses to compete aggressively as individual combats succeeded a
charge that spent itself and lost cohesion (1994, p. xii).
The origin of the horse’s use as a weapon of war in the West can be traced back to
the end of the Roman empire, for in the waning years of their power, the Romans
relied more and more heavily upon mounted barbarian soldiers and mercenaries to
make up their armies. The traditions instilled in the Roman military by the mounted
warriors of the European steppes lasted throughout the chaotic period following the
Empire’s collapse and eventually evolved into the horseman-dominated warfare so
characteristic of the later Middle Ages. Yet with respect to mounted combat, the
Arabs were perhaps the first to recognize the fundamental importance of the
relationship between the rider and his steed. Hyland explains that,
The Arabic treatises insist that it was vital to build a horse’s confidence in his
rider, who was exhorted to be judicious with his weapons. A horse trusting his
rider will attempt things that others balk at. However confidence takes time to
build. The rider also has to be confident and must be the dominant one in the
partnership, though without the need overtly to enforce his will (1994, p. xii).
With the absolute necessity of a powerful link between a steed and his master in
mind, it becomes significant to consider the portrayal of this rapport in medieval
literature. The medieval writer communicates to his reader the bond between the
horse and the knight by various means.
Treatment of the horse, or more specifically, the warhorse, varies greatly
throughout Medieval French literature, and yet several elements concerning this
versatile animal remain constant: (1) almost any introductory description of a knight
includes a reference to his horse, and the knight hardly ever travels dismounted, (2)
the loss of one’s steed is always extremely disruptive, and inevitably results in some
sort of renversement de situation, and finally, (3) the horse is an indicator of the
character’s social class- a vilain would never be permitted to mount a destrier or a
coursier.
One finds constant references to horses in the chansons de geste. Every heroic
combatant has a steed, and in fact, battles that take place between knights and non-
knights, or foot soldiers, are hardly even worthy of mention in these texts, and are
rarely described in any detail. Possession of a destrier or a coursier was a sign of an
individual’s nobility, and in the idealized world of the epic poem, honorable
struggles could only occur between protagonists of equal social rank. Simply put, in
the descriptions of each hero before they engage an enemy, there is almost always a

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reference to the man’s steed; as an integral component of the knight’s identity, the
horse would be an important element worthy of description in the narrative passages
preceding each fight. For example, in the Chanson de Roland, these descriptions are
omnipresent throughout the text. Before the archevêque Turpin rushes at the
Saracen horde, the author provides his reader with a rich portrait of his mount:
Li arcevesque cumencet la bataille:
Siet el cheval qu’il tolit a Grossaille-
Ço ert uns reis qu’ocist en Denemarche.
Li destrers est e curanz e äates:
Piez ad copiez e les gambes ad plates
Curte la quisse e la crupe bien large,
Lungs les costez e l’eschine ad ben halte,
Blanche la cue e la crignete jalne,
Petite oreille, la teste tute falve;
Beste nen est ki encontre lui alge (1648–1657).7
The horse is truly a mirror image of his owner; Turpin is one of the most formidable
warriors fighting alongside Roland, and it is only fitting that the animal he sits
astride should be just as valiant as him, a reflection of his own strength and
distinguished lineage. Yet, even the horses of less important combatants in the text
are worthy of some recognition on the part of the author. Such is the case for two
Saracen knights, Malquı̈ant and Grandonies, who ambush Roland’s army in the
pass. Malquı̈ant’s horse has a name: ‘‘D’Affrike i ad un Affrican venut / C’est
Malquı̈ant, le filz al rei Malcud… / Siet el ceval qu’il cleimet Salt Perdut’’
(1550–1554), as does Grondonies’ steed: ‘‘De l’altre part est un paien Grandonies, /
Filz Capüel, le roi de Cpadoce. / Siet el cheval quë il cleimet Marmorie’’
(1570–1572). In fact, many of the horses in the Chanson de Roland have names:
Roland’s horse is named Veillantif, Charlemagne’s destrier is called Tencendur, and
Marsile rides Gaignon. Yet even if the author considers the horse to be an important
part of each knight’s portrait, he makes few explicit references to the bond between
horse and rider as combat unfolds. The reader can infer from the inclusion of the
horse in the knight’s portrait that a link must exist between the two, especially if the
protagonist chose to name his steed, but in the Chanson de Roland and the other
early epic poems one sees little evidence of an actual relationship between the rider
and his mount. Michel Zink points this out in his essay; ‘‘Représentations littéraires
de l’animal’’ by comparing the attention given to Roland’s horse with that focused
on his sword:
[Veillantif] est mentionné à cinq reprises dans La Chanson de Roland. L’épée
de Roland, Durendal, l’est dix-sept fois. Roland voit son cheval tué sous lui
sans que cette mort lui arrache le moindre commentaire… Le héros s’intéresse
bien davantage à son épée. Il tente en vain de la briser pour ne pas qu’elle

7
‘‘Cest l’archevêque qui engage le combat: / il monte le cheval qu’il avait pris à Grossaille - / c’était un
roi qu’il tua au Danemark-. / Son destrier est rapide et vif: / sabots concaves, jambes plates, / cuisse assez
courte, croupe bien large, / flancs allongés, échine bien haute, / queue toute blanche, crinière jaune, /
petites oreilles, tête toute fauve ; / il n’y a bête qui coure aussi vite que lui.’’

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tombe entre les mains des paı̈ens, et prononce à trois reprises sur elle un
véritable planctus, dans lequel il l’associe à la gloire et à ses exploits. Le
pauvre Veillantif n’a pas cet honneur (1984, p. 48).
In other chansons de geste the horse of the protagonist plays a more important role,
and the authors increasingly highlight the bond between the knight and his animal
companion; Zink describes this evolution as he sees it in Aliscans: ‘‘Guillaume,
rentrant en lui-même après la défaite, consacre un vers à son épouse et une trentaine
à son cheval Baucent’’ (1984, p. 49).
Sometimes silences can be more revealing than longwinded descriptions,
however. The breezy but persistent passing references to steeds in a given text
can be just as telling as those stanzas where an author lingers on a topic in a more
explicit fashion. If one considers the beginning of the roman d’antiquité the Roman
de Thèbes, when Polynice departs from Thebes, leaving the city in the hands of his
brother, our author says very little about the appearance of the young king before he
sets out on his journey; what is most important in this section is that in his exile, he
is bereft of all companionship- except for that of his horse. The author discretely
includes this detail:
Onc n’i ot plius: cil se conreie,
al rei de Grece tint sa veie;
et ne fist gaires grant conreie,
car il ne mena homme oue seie,
ne escuier ne compaignon,
si solement son cheval non (648–653).8
Exile entails the hero’s complete scission from home and his loved ones. Yet even
the most brutal of expulsions permits him to depart accompanied by his steed. The
description of Polynice’s journey to the city of Argos is filled with quick references
to the fact that he is on horseback: at one point the verb ‘‘chevalchier’’ appears no
fewer than three times in five verses. Our author reinforces the significance of the
horse a few lines later, when Polynice encounters Tydée in the center of the city of
Argos. Tydée also travels almost completely alone, ‘‘ne mais que sei et son destrier’’
(759). After Tydée ties his ‘‘milsoldor’’ (761)9 to an olive tree with an almost
supernatural storm raging around him, he confronts Polynice within the city’s
lighthouse, hoping to find shelter for the night. In the angry conversation that
ensues, Tydée affirms, and it appears to be somewhat exceptional, that he only seeks
shelter within the tower for himself, not for his horse. A man’s horse would require
safe shelter just as much as the man himself.10
8
‘‘Plus de délai: il se prépare, / pour aller chez le roi de Grèce; / et il n’avait pas un grand équipage, / car
il n’emmena personne avec lui, / ni écuyer ni compagnon, / personne d’autre que son cheval.’’
9
A milsoldor is an expensive destrier or warhorse, its price being mille solidorum or mille sous.
10
Other elaborate horse portraits fill the Roman de Thèbes as well. During the initial battle outside the
gates of the city of Thebes, Meneceus defends the seventh gate of the city astride a magnificent steed:
En un cheval d’Arrabe sist,
que li reis Daires li tramyst; (…)
Del cheval ne set l’en pris dire,
car molt vait tost et bien se vire,

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It may also be worthwhile to consider the horse as it is, that is to say a creature
belonging to the animal kingdom, and as such, clearly, according to the medieval
Christian perspective, under the dominion of man. Yet no other animal receives
such consistent and positive attention. Strangely enough, the horse transcends the
typically rigid polar opposition between good and evil as one finds it depicted in the
medieval literary tradition. Take for example this strange line in the Chanson de
Roland, where Roland slices through Valdabron, but in doing so kills both the rider
and his steed. The narrator exclaims his regret that the horse died too:
Trenchet la teste e la bronie e le cors,
La bone sele ki est gemmee ad or,
E al cheval parfundement le dos,
Ambure ocit, ki que l’ blasme ne qui l’ l’ot (1543–1546).11
Perhaps no other work from the Middle Ages devotes as much attention to the horse
as Alexandre de Paris’s Roman d’Alexandre. When Alexander encounters his steed,
Bucéphale for the first time, it is as if the fantastic creature, part horse, part bull,
completes him as a warrior and as a king. The first meetings between the two reveal
that horse and rider are linked on a deeper level than most knights are with their

Footnote 10 continued
et fu partis par mie l’eschine:
l’une costé ot blanc come ermine
et l’autre tout neir come more.
Son ciel n’ad rien qui oue lui core;
ceo sachiez bien, ne bai ne brun,
tant vı̈acier n’en y ad un;
que il ne giet molt tost el tai;
fols est qui plius isnel demande. (6114–6128)

Il montait un cheval arabe

Que le roi Darius lui avait envoyé; (…)
Du cheval, on ne peut dire le prix,
Car il va très vite, sait bien virevolter
Et son échine était de deux couleurs :
D’un côté elle était aussi blanche qu’une hermine,
Et de l’autre, aussi noir qu’une mûre.
Il n’y a personne au monde capable de faire la course avec lui ;
Sachez-le bien, il n’y en a pas un
D’aussi agile, qu’il soit bai ou brun ;
Il n’y en a pas un brun ou bai,
Qu’il ne jette très vite dans la boue ;
Il faudrait être fou pour en vouloir un plus rapide.

In this case, the author of the Roman de Thèbes spends more lines describing the horse than the rider.
For the Roman de Thèbes, this study makes use of Francine Mora-Lebrun’s excellent translations of the
Anglo-Norman found within her facing page edition of the text of the British Library’s manuscript, Add.
34114) and for the Roman d’Alexandre Laurence Harf-Lancner’s superb translations of the Anglo-
Norman found within her facing page edition of the Roman d’Alexandre, manuscript BN fr. 25517 were
used. Finally, Ian Short’s exceptional modern French translation of La Chanson de Roland was used.
11
‘‘[Il] lui fend le crâne, la brogne, et le corps, / et la bonne selle, aux gemmes serties dans l’or, /
profondément jusqu’au dos du cheval; / les tue tous deux, qu’on le blâme ou non.’’

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mounts. Bucéphale is reputed to be a fearsome monster, capable of killing a man in

the blink of an eye, and yet, when Alexander enters his cage:
Li chevaus vit son maistre si s’est humelı̈és;
Segnorie li mostre si s’est agenolliés
Plus se tint cois et mus qu’esmerillons en giés.
Alexandre l’esgarde, molt en divint haitiés,
Sempres li a la coupe, les crins aplanı̈és (461–465).12
Once Alexander finds his horse, he is ready to begin his conquests, and soon
thereafter he defeats King Nicolas, who was waging war against his father.
Born on the same date, both Alexander and Bucéphale are unique and formidable
fighters. The compiler of the Alexander saga, Alexandre de Paris, employs the same
vocabulary of the epic hero when describing Bucéphale that he uses for his human
counterpart, underlining the connection between Alexander and the mythical beast:
‘‘Onques hom ne vit beste de la sieue façon,’’ (429, I).13 United and fighting as one,
the idealized embodiment of the necessary link between a horse and his master,
Alexander and Bucéphalus are deadly in battle. Alexander and his amies defeat
Nicolas, Darius, and Porrus before the great horse is killed.
It is during a battle with Porrus, perhaps Alexander’s most dangerous opponent,
that Bucephalus dies, and Alexander is devastated. Historians recorded Alexander’s
reaction following the death of his faithful animal companion.14 In the Roman
Alexandre de Paris paints a poignant scene of the Macedonian king’s mourning
when Bucephalus dies:
Son cheval vit morir, mervelles l’en pesa.
Ainc vilains de la terre mie ne s’en escorcha
Au trenchant de l’espee trestout le detrencha;
Des crins ne de la ceue nus hom nen adesa
Ne onques de la char chiens d’Ynde ne gousta;
Une fosse fist faire, molt parfont l’enterra.
Une cité i fist, de haut mur la ferma;
Les homes de la terre trestous i amena,
Desque pueplee fu, onques ne s’en ala;
Mist li non Alexandre au pui Bucifala,
Ce fu une cités que mervelles ama

12
‘‘Le cheval voit son maı̂tre, s’incline devant lui; / en signe de soumission, il s’est agenouillé, / il est
plus calme et doux qu’un émerillon dans les liens. / Alexandre le contemple, tout heureux, / lui caresse
longuement la croupe et la crinière; / Bucéphale quitter aujourd’hui la prison où il a tant souffert.’’
13
‘‘Nul home n’a jamais vu bête de cette sorte.’’
14
Olivier Battistini and Pascal Charvet in their work, Alexandre le Grand: Histoire et Dictionnaire, refer
to Quintus Curtius’s record of Bucephalus’s death. The Roman historian paints a touching scene: ‘‘Lors
de la campagne en Inde, Bucéphale jette Alexandre au cœur de la formation ennemie. C‘est alors que le
cheval, malgré de profondes blessures au cou et au flanc, déjà mourant, emporte le roi au galop et le met à
l’abri des traits avant de s’écrouler, rassuré d’une manière presque humaine de voir son maı̂tre sain et
sauf. A la suite de cette bataille contre Poros, Bucéphale meurt, non pas immédiatement, mais un peu plus
tard, alors qu’on le soigne…Alexandre est affecté par la mort de son cheval, pensant avoir perdu un
familier ou un ami. Sur les bords de l’Hydaspe, … le roi fonde une Alexandrie Bucéphale.’’ (606).

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Por amor son cheval qu ja n’oublı̈era.

Maintes fois por s’amor a ses deus ieus plora (4061–4073, III).15
Distressed by his loss, Alexander builds a city above the tomb of the valiant beast
and gives it the horse’s name. It would be difficult to find an instance of a more
poignant portrayal of the love that could bond a knight to his steed.
This personification of Bucephalus also serves to connect Alexandre de Paris’s
saga with the realm of myth. An animal of such power and otherworldly renown is
reminiscent of famous steeds, such as Bellerophon’s Pegasus or even Odin’s eight-
legged horse, Sleipnir. Not only do these mounts possess wondrous characteristics,
but by means of their marvelous strength, they also permit their riders to accomplish
incredible feats.
Saddened though he is by the loss of Bucephalus, Alexander does not forget his
duties as leader. When he confronts the traitorous Indian king for the last time, he is
astride a brand new, supernatural horse. This is further evidence that a true hero
cannot be without an amazing steed:
La sele li ont mise sor le vair Tholomé;
Ce estoit uns chevaus mervelles alosé,
Il n’ot en toute l’ost destrier si abrievé;
Toute la crope ot noire, blanc furent li costé,
Ansdeus les cuisses plaines, si pié furent caupé,
Les espaulles ot yndes et le col ot tieulé
Et la teste vermelle par lieus de blanc mellé (4177–4183, III).16
The Roman plays with traditional themes and projects them into the realm of the
exotic and the marvelous: many of the knights Alexandre de Paris describes have
powerful horses, and yet none of these can rival Bucephalus, a fear-inspiring blend
of ox, lion, and horse. Bucephalus’s rich nature mimics the complexity of his
owner’s character, however, constantly fluctuating between stubbornness, tyrannical
fury, and surprising mercifulness.
Yet even if a shift towards a humanized depiction of the horse occurs the epic
poems such as the Roman d’Alexandre, the fact remains that for the most part, just
as for the majority of the animals in the bestiaries, the horse retains an important
allegorical function in medieval texts. The horse is a multifaceted symbol: it
represents the knight’s military prowess, his high rank in the social strata, and it is
also fundamentally a symbol of his virility. In Chrétien de Troyes’ Lancelot, when
the hero must ride in a charrette for lack of better means of transportation, it is an

15
‘‘A son grand chagrin, il voit mourir son cheval. / Il ne laisse pas un vilain l’écorcher / mais le dépèce
lui-même du tranchant de son épée. / Nul homme ne met la main sur la crinière ou sur la queue, / nul
chien de l’Inde ne goûte à sa chair. / Il fit creuser une fosse profonde pour l’enterrer. / Au-dessus il
construisit une cité aux remparts solides / et y amena tous les hommes du pays, / qui la peuplèrent et s’y
établirent. / Il la nomma Bucéphala la haute / et s’y attacha merveilleusement / pour l’amour de son
cheval, qu’il ne pouvait oublier.’’
16
‘‘On installe sa selle sur le cheval à la robe chamarrée de Tholomé. / C’était un cheval à la réputation
merveilleuse, / le plus rapide de toute l’armée. / Il avait la croupe toute noire, les côtés blancs, / les cuisses
plates, les pieds creux, / les épaules bleues, le cou de la couleur des tuiles, / la tête vermeille et blanche
par endroits.’’

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The Horse in Medieval French Literature 637

indicator of the sexual dominion that his lady holds over him, and of his failings as
an honor-obsessed knight. Lancelot will sacrifice one of the greatest emblems of his
power in order to attain his beloved. Essentially, in the majority of Old French texts,
the horse hardly ever surpasses the boundaries of its limited symbolic function to
interact with the protagonist on a more profound level. The Roman d’Alexandre
provides another notable example.
When Alexander finds out that the Indian king has been asking about him, he
decides to counter the dishonorable tactics of his opponent with guile and subterfuge
as well: ‘‘Qant l’oı̈ Alixandres, saut sus isnelement, / Por aler au marchié monta sor
un jument, / Si li furent changié si roial vestement’’ (v. 1531–1533, III).17 To
complete his disguise, Alexander trades his trusty warhorse for a nag. Where one
would normally find a laudatory, but brief description of a hero’s magnificent
warhorse, Alexandre de Paris treats his readers to a comical scene where Alexander
tries, unsuccessfully, to master a stubborn and unresponsive cob that bucks and
leaps in response to the hero’s attempts to spur it forward. Certainly, this is intended
as divertissement for the reader, but the scene holds more significance than simple,
straight-forward comic relief. A warrior of unsurpassed quality, one of the youngest
kings to ever conquer so much land and to travel so far in search of heroic
challenges, is struggling to master a poor, clumsy beast of burden. This is the same
man who tamed Bucephalus, the beast of whom they say:
Qant on prent en ceste regne traı̈tor ne larron,
Ja nus hom n’en fera justice se il non;
A la beste le livrent s’en fait destrusion;
Il en ocirroit bien quatre vins d’un randon (437–440, I).18
The portrait of the beast the fearsome Greek king will ride when he goes to spy on
Porus is quite different:
Montés est Alixandres, au marchié veut aler
De sor une jument, nus hom ne vit sa per.
N’estoit noire ne blanche; ne vos sai deviser
De quel poil ert la beste, onques ne sot ambler.
Qant li rois fu desus et il s’en veut torner,
El n’ala mie avant, ains prist a reculer.
Des esperons la fiert li rois qui tant fu ber,
Et ele commença molt fort a regiber,
En travers a saillir et des piés a geter (1534–42, III).19

17
‘‘Alexandre à cette nouvelle, saute sur ses pieds, / et prend une jument pour se rendre au marché, /
après avoir changé ses vêtements royaux.’’
18
‘‘Les voleurs et les traı̂tres qu’on prend dans le royaume, / on lui laisse le soin d’en faire bonne justice:
/ on les livre à la bête, qui les met à mort / et pourrait en tuer quatre-vingts à la fois.’’
19
‘‘Pour aller au marché, Alexandre monte une jument / dont on n’a jamais vu la pareille: / elle n’est ni
noire ni blanche, je ne peux vous en dire / la couleur; elle ne sait pas aller à l’amble. / Quand le roi monte
en selle et veut se mettre en route, / elle refuse d’avancer, se met à reculer. / Le noble roi la pique des
éperons / et elle se met à regimber, à sauter et à ruer de côté.’’

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638 P. H. Rogers

Knowing that Alexander will eventually die, poisoned, ignominiously murdered,

and not succumb to wounds received in a glorious, hard-fought battle, where his
martial abilities could be tested, sheds an even spookier light on this scene. It
essentially foreshadows his humiliating demise.
Some animals inspire terror, some inspire wonderment, others may inspire no
reaction at all, namely those creatures that the medieval romans passent sous silence
but who surely must have been part of medieval man’s life- the hunting dogs,
barnyard cats, domesticated falcons, etc. yet no animal but the horse, in this
medieval tradition inspires almost egalitarian respect. It would be difficult to find
such an omnipresent and universally positive portrayal of a beast in contemporary
times.
For one of the most common animals in Medieval French literature, the
symbolism related to the horse is nevertheless extremely rich and complex, perhaps
more so than for some of the most exotic and unusual creatures one finds in the
bestiaries. It is clear, however, that in the aforementioned texts, some basic
functions recur: the horse is always associated with the knight, and is therefore an
indicator of social condition. The horse is often a mirror image of his rider: the more
formidable the knight, the more deadly and powerful his steed. One can understand
therefore why medieval man prized his horse. The breadth of the practical
information found in the bestiaries regarding the animal’s health and the medical
remedies for its ailments are certainly indicative of the importance of the horse to
medieval society as a whole. Yet might these texts not also indicate that the horse
was perhaps more than simply a versatile animal with practical uses for war, travel,
and agriculture? Might not the depth of the resources in the bestiaries for
safeguarding the horse and its elevation throughout literary texts also be indicative
of the value of the horse to medieval man not only as an intelligent, wondrously
effective means of transportation, but more importantly as a faithful animal
companion to be cherished?

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