Fortunately "the question of the actual existence and acts of Arthur has very little to do with the question of the origin of the Arthurian cycle." But although some authorities entirely deny his existence, it is probable that he was a Briton, for many places in Wales, Scotland, and England are connected with his name.
On the very slightest basis, many of the mediaeval writers constructed long and fabulous tales about this hero. Such was the popularity of the Arthurian legends all over Europe that prose romances concerning him were among the first works printed, and were thus brought into general circulation. An outline of the principal adventures of Arthur and of his knights is given here. It has been taken from many works, whose authors will often be mentioned as we proceed.
King Uther Pendragon, as we have already seen, intrusted his new-born son, Arthur, to the care of the enchanter Merlin, who carried him to the castle of Sir Hector (Anton), where the young prince was brought up as a child of the house.
"Wherefore Merlin took the child,And gave him to Sir Anton, an old knightAnd ancient friend of Uther; and his wifeNursed the young prince, and rear'd him with her own;And no man knew."TENNYSON,The Coming of Arthur.
[Sidenote: The magic sword.] Two years later King Uther Pendragon died, and the noblemen, not knowing whom to choose as his successor, consulted Merlin, promising to abide by his decision. By his advice they all assembled in St. Stephen's Church, in London, on Christmas Day. When mass was over they beheld a large stone which had mysteriously appeared in the churchyard. This stone was surmounted by a ponderous anvil, in which the blade of a sword was deeply sunk. Drawing near to examine the wonder, they read an inscription upon the jeweled hilt, to the effect that none but the man who could draw out the sword should dare to take possession of the throne. Of course all present immediately tried to accomplish this feat, but all failed.
Several years passed by ere Sir Hector came to London with his son, Sir Kay, and his foster son, young Arthur. Sir Kay, who, for the first time in his life, was to take part in a tournament, was greatly chagrined, on arriving there, to discover that he had forgotten his sword; so Arthur volunteered to ride back and get it. He found the house closed; yet, being determined to secure a sword for his foster brother, he strode hastily into the churchyard, and easily drew from the anvil the weapon which all had vainly tried to secure.
[Sidenote: Arthur made king.] This mysterious sword was handed to Sir Kay, and Sir Hector, perceiving it, and knowing whence it came, immediately inquired how Arthur had secured it. He even refused at first to believe the evidence of his own eyes; but when he and all the principal nobles of the realm had seen Arthur replace and draw out the sword, after all had again vainly tried their strength, they gladly hailed the young man king.
As Merlin was an enchanter, it was popularly rumored that Arthur was not, as he now declared, the son of Uther Pendragon and Yguerne, but a babe mysteriously brought up from the depths of the sea, on the crest of the ninth wave, and cast ashore at the wizard's feet. Hence many people distrusted the young king, and at first refused to obey him.
"Watch'd the great sea fall,Wave after wave, each mightier than the last,Till last, a ninth one, gathering half the deep,And full of voices, slowly rose and plungedRoaring, and all the wave was in a flame:And down the wave and in the flame was borneA naked babe, and rode to Merlin's feet,Who stoopt and caught the babe, and cried 'The King!Here is an heir for Uther!'"TENNYSON,The Coming of Arthur.
Among the unbelievers were some of the king's own kindred, and notably his four nephews, Gawain, Gaheris, Agravaine, and Gareth. Arthur was therefore obliged to make war against them; but although Gawain's strength increased in a truly marvelous fashion from nine to twelve in the morning, and from three to six in the afternoon, the king succeeded in defeating him by following Merlin's advice and taking advantage of his comparatively weak moments.
[Sidenote: Sir Pellinore.] Arthur, aided by Merlin, ruled over the land wisely and well, redressed many wrongs, reëstablished order and security, which a long interregnum had destroyed, and brandished his sword in many a fight, in which he invariably proved victor. But one day, having drawn his blade upon Sir Pellinore, who did not deserve to be thus attacked, it suddenly failed him and broke. Left thus without any means of defense, the king would surely have perished had not Merlin used his magic arts to put Sir Pellinore to sleep and to bear his charge to a place of safety.
Arthur, thus deprived of his magic sword, bewailed its loss; but while he stood by a lake, wondering how he should procure another, he beheld a white-draped hand and arm rise out of the water, holding aloft a jeweled sword which the Lady of the Lake, who appeared beside him, told him was intended for his use.
"'Thou rememberest howIn those old days, one summer noon, an armRose up from out the bosom of the lake,Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,Holding the sword—and how I row'd acrossAnd took it, and have worn it, like a king;And, wheresoever I am sung or toldIn aftertime, this also shall be known.'"TENNYSON,The Passing of Arthur.
[Sidenote: Excalibur.] Arthur rowed out into the middle of the lake and secured the sword which is known by the name Excalibur. He was then told by the Lady of the Lake that it was gifted with magic powers, and that as long as the scabbard remained in his possession he would suffer neither wound nor defeat.
Thus armed, Arthur went back to his palace, where, hearing that the Saxons had again invaded the country, he went to wage war against them, and won many victories. Shortly after this Arthur heard that Leodegraunce, King of Scotland, was threatened by his brother Ryance, King of Ireland, who was determined to complete a mantle furred with the beards of kings, and wanted to secure one more at any price. Arthur hastened to this monarch's assistance, and delivered him from the clutches of Ryance. He not only killed this savage monarch, but appropriated his mantle and carried it away in triumph as a trophy of the war.
"And for a trophy brought the Giant's coat awayMade of the beards of Kings."DRAYTON,Polyolbion.
[Sidenote: Arthur's marriage with Guinevere.] After these martial exploits Arthur returned to the court of Leodegraunce, where he fell in love with the latter's fair daughter, Guinevere. The king sued successfully for her hand, but Merlin would not allow him to marry this princess until he had distinguished himself by a campaign in Brittany. The wedding was then celebrated with true mediaeval pomp; and Arthur, having received, besides the princess, the Round Table once made for his father, conveyed his bride and wedding gift to Camelot (Winchester), where he bade all his court be present for a great feast at Pentecost.
"The nearest neighboring flood to Arthur's ancient seat,Which made the Britons' name through all the world so great.Like Camelot, what place was ever yet renown'd?Where, as at Carlion, oft, he kept the Table-Round,Most famous for the sports at Pentecost so long,From whence all knightly deeds, and brave achievements sprong."DRAYTON,—Polyolbion.
[Sidenote: Knights of the Round Table.] Arthur had already warred successfully against twelve revolted kings, whose remains were interred at Camelot by his order. There Merlin erected a marvelous castle, containing a special hall for the reception of the Round Table. This hall was adorned with the lifelike statues of all the conquered kings, each holding a burning taper which the magician declared would burn brightly until the Holy Grail should appear. Hoping to bring that desirable event to pass, Arthur bade Merlin frame laws for the knights of the Round Table. As distinctive mark, each of the noblemen admitted to a seat at this marvelous table adopted some heraldic device. The number of these knights varies from twelve to several hundred, according to the different poets or romancers.
"The fellowshipp of the Table Round,Soe famous in those dayes;Whereatt a hundred noble knightsAnd thirty sat alwayes;Who for their deeds and martiall feates,As bookes done yett record,Amongst all other nationsWer feared through the world."Legend of King Arthur(Old Ballad).
Merlin, by virtue of his magic powers, easily selected the knights worthy to belong to this noble institution, and the Archbishop of Canterbury duly blessed them and the board around which they sat. All the places were soon filled except two; and as the knights arose from their seats after the first meal they noticed that their names were inscribed in letters of gold in the places they had occupied. But one of the empty seats was marked "Siege Perilous," and could only be occupied by a peerless knight.
[Sidenote: Lancelot du Lac.]
Among all the knights of the Round Table, Sir Lancelot du Lac, who is the hero of several lengthy poems and romances bearing his name, was the most popular. Chrestien de Troyes, Geoffrey de Ligny, Robert de Borron, and Map have all written about him, and he was so well known that his name was given to one of the knaves on the playing cards invented at about this time. Malory, in his prose version of the "Morte d'Arthur," has drawn principally from the poems treating of Lancelot, whose early life was somewhat extraordinary, too.
Some accounts relate that Lancelot was the son of King Ban and Helen. When he was but a babe, his parents were obliged to flee from their besieged castle in Brittany. Before they had gone far, the aged Ban, seeing his home in flames, sank dying to the ground. Helen, eager to minister to her husband, laid her baby boy down on the grass near a lake, and when she again turned around, she saw him in the arms of Vivian, the Lady of the Lake, who plunged with him into the waters.
"In the wife's woe, the mother was forgot.At last (for I was all earth held of himWho had been all to her, and now was not)She rose, and looked with tearless eyes, but dim,In the babe's face the father still to see;And lo! the babe was on another's knee!
"Another's lips had kissed it into sleep,And o'er the sleep another watchful smiled;The Fairy sate beside the lake's still deep,And hush'd with chaunted charms the orphan child!Scared at the mother's cry, as fleets a dream,Both Child and Fairy melt into the stream."BULWER LYTTON,King Arthur.
The bereaved wife and mother now sorrowfully withdrew into a convent, while Lancelot was brought up in the palace of the Lady of the Lake, with his two cousins, Lyonel and Bohort. Here he remained until he was eighteen, when the fairy herself brought him to court and presented him to the king. Arthur then and there made him his friend and confidant, and gave him an honored place at the Round Table. He was warmly welcomed by all the other knights also, whom he far excelled in beauty and courage.
"But one Sir Lancelot du Lake,Who was approved well,He for his deeds and feats of armesAll others did excell."Sir Lancelot du Lake(Old Ballad).
[Sidenote: Lancelot and Guinevere.] Lancelot, however, was doomed to much sorrow, for he had no sooner beheld Queen Guinevere than he fell deeply in love with her. The queen fully returned his affection, granted him many marks of her favor, and encouraged him to betray his friend and king on sundry occasions, which form the themes of various episodes in the romances of the time. Lancelot, urged in one direction by passion, in another by loyalty, led a very unhappy life, which made him relapse into occasional fits of insanity, during which he roamed aimlessly about for many years. When restored to his senses, he always returned to court, where he accomplished unheard-of deeds of valor, delivered many maidens in distress, righted the wrong wherever he found it, won all the honors at the tournaments, and ever remained faithful in his devotion to the queen, although many fair ladies tried to make him forget her.
Some of the poems, anxious to vindicate the queen, declare that there were two Guineveres, one pure, lovely, and worthy of all admiration, who suffered for the sins of the other, an unprincipled woman. When Arthur discovered his wife's intrigue with Lancelot, he sent her away, and Guinevere took refuge with her lover in Joyeuse Garde (Berwick), a castle he had won at the point of his lance to please her. But the king, having ascertained some time after that the real Guinevere had been wrongfully accused, reinstated her in his favor, and Lancelot again returned to court, where he continued to love and serve the queen.
[Illustration: SIR LANCELOT DU LAC.—Sir John Gilbert.]
On one occasion, hearing that she had been made captive by Meleagans, Lancelot rushed after Guinevere to rescue her, tracing her by a comb and ringlet she had dropped on the way. His horse was taken from him by enchantment, so Lancelot, in order sooner to overtake the queen, rode on in a cart. This was considered a disgraceful mode of progress for a knight, as a nobleman in those days was condemned to ride in a cart in punishment for crimes for which common people were sentenced to the pillory.
Lancelot succeeded in reaching the castle of Guinevere's kidnaper, whom he challenged and defeated. The queen, instead of showing herself grateful for this devotion, soon became needlessly jealous, and in a fit of anger taunted her lover about his journey in the cart. This remark sufficed to unsettle the hero's evidently very tottering reason, and he roamed wildly about until the queen recognized her error, and sent twenty-three knights in search of him. They journeyed far and wide for two whole years without finding him.
"'Then Sir Bors had ridden onSoftly, and sorrowing for our Lancelot,Because his former madness, once the talkAnd scandal of our table, had return'd;For Lancelot's kith and kin so worship himThat ill to him is ill to them.'"TENNYSON,The Holy Grail.
Finally a fair and pious damsel took pity upon the frenzied knight, and seeing that he had atoned by suffering for all his sins, she had him borne into the chamber where the Holy Grail was kept; "and then there came a holy man, who uncovered the vessel, and so by miracle, and by virtue of that holy vessel, Sir Lancelot was all healed and recovered."
[Sidenote: Gareth and Lynette.] Sane once more, Lancelot now returned to Camelot, where the king, queen, and all the knights of the Round Table rejoiced to see him. Here Lancelot knighted Sir Gareth, who, to please his mother, had concealed his true name, and had acted as kitchen vassal for a whole year. The new-made knight immediately started out with a fair maiden called Lynette, to deliver her captive sister. Thinking him nothing but the kitchen vassal he seemed, the damsel insulted Gareth in every possible way. He bravely endured her taunts, courageously defeated all her adversaries, and finally won her admiration and respect to such a degree that she bade him ride beside her, and humbly asked his pardon for having so grievously misjudged him.
"'Sir,—and, good faith, I fain had added Knight,But that I heard thee call thyself a knave,—Shamed am I that I so rebuked, reviled,Missaid thee; noble I am; and thought the KingScorn'd me and mine; and now thy pardon, friend,For thou hast ever answer'd courteously,And wholly bold thou art, and meek withalAs any of Arthur's best, but, being knave,Hast mazed my wit: I marvel what thou art.'"TENNYSON,Gareth and Lynette.
Granting her full forgiveness, Gareth now rode beside her, fought more bravely still, and, after defeating many knights, delivered her sister from captivity, and secured Lynette's promise to become his wife as soon as he had been admitted to the Round Table. When he returned to Arthur's court this honor was immediately awarded him, for his prowess had won the admiration of all, and he was duly married on St. Michaelmas Day.
"And he that told the tale in older timesSays that Sir Gareth wedded Lyoners,But he that told it later, says Lynette."TENNYSON,Gareth and Lynette.
[Sidenote: Geraint and Enid.] Gareth's brother, Geraint, was also an honored member of the Round Table. After distinguishing himself by many deeds of valor he married Enid the Fair, the only daughter of an old and impoverished knight whom he delivered from the tyranny of his oppressor and restored to all his former state. Taking his fair wife away with him to his lonely manor, Geraint surrounded her with every comfort, and, forgetting his former high aspirations, spent all his time at home, hoping thereby to please her.
"He compass'd her with sweet observancesAnd worship, never leaving her, and grewForgetful of his promise to the King.Forgetful of the falcon and the hunt,Forgetful of the tilt and tournament,Forgetful of his glory and his name,Forgetful of his princedom and its cares.And this forgetfulness was hateful to her."TENNYSON,Geraint and Enid.
Enid, however, soon perceived that her husband was forgetting both honor and duty to linger by her side. One day, while he lay asleep before her, she, in an outburst of wifely love, poured out her heart, and ended her confession by declaring that since Geraint neglected everything for her sake only, she must be an unworthy wife.
Geraint awoke too late to overhear the first part of her speech; but, seeing her tears, and catching the words "unworthy wife," he immediately imagined that she had ceased to love him, and that she received the attentions of another. In his anger Geraint (whom the French and German poems call Erec) rose from his couch, and sternly bade his wife don her meanest apparel and silently follow him through the world.
"The page he bade with speedPrepare his own strong steed,Dame Enid's palfrey there beside;He said that he would rideFor pastime far away:So forward hastened they."HARTMANN VON AVE,Erek and Enid(Bayard Taylor's tr.)
Patiently Enid did her husband's bidding, watched him fight the knights by the way, and bound up his wounds. She suffered intensely from his incomprehensible coldness and displeasure; but she stood all his tests so nobly that he finally recognized how greatly he had misjudged her. He then restored her to her rightful place, and loved her more dearly than ever before.
"Nor did he doubt her more,But rested in her fealty, till he crown'dA happy life with a fair death, and fellAgainst the heathen of the Northern SeaIn battle, fighting for the blameless King."TENNYSON,—Geraint and Enid.
[Sidenote: Sir Galahad.] One Pentecost Day, when all the knights were assembled, as usual, around the table at Camelot, a distressed damsel suddenly entered the hall and implored Lancelot to accompany her to the neighboring forest, where a young warrior was hoping to receive knighthood at his hands. This youth was Sir Galahad, the peerless knight, whom some authorities call Lancelot's son, while others declare that he was not of mortal birth.
On reëntering the hall after performing this ceremony, Lancelot heard that a miracle had occurred, and rushed with the king and his companions down to the riverside. There the rumor was verified, for they all saw a heavy stone floating down the stream, and perceived that a costly weapon was sunk deep in the stone. On this weapon was an inscription, declaring that none but a peerless knight should attempt to draw it out, upon penalty of a grievous punishment. As all the knights of the Round Table felt guilty of some sin, they modestly refused to touch it.
When they returned into the hall an aged man came in, accompanied by Galahad, and the latter, fearless by right of innocence, sat down in the "Siege Perilous." As his name then appeared upon it, all knew that he was the rightful occupant, and hailed his advent with joy. Then, noticing that he wore an empty scabbard, and hearing him state that he had been promised a marvelous sword, they one and all escorted him down to the river, where he easily drew the sword out of the stone. This fitted exactly in his empty sheath, and all vowed that it was evidently meant for him.
That selfsame night, after evensong, when all the knights were seated about the Round Table at Camelot, they heard a long roll of thunder, and felt the palace shake. The brilliant lights held by the statues of the twelve conquered kings grew strangely dim, and then, gliding down upon a beam of refulgent celestial light, they all beheld a dazzling vision of the Holy Grail. Covered by white samite, and borne by invisible hands, the sacred vessel was slowly carried all around the great hall, while a delicious perfume was wafted throughout the huge edifice. All the knights of the Round Table gazed in silent awe at this resplendent vision, and when it vanished as suddenly and as mysteriously as it had come, each saw before him the food which he liked best.
Speechless at first, and motionless until the wonted light again illumined the hall, the knights gave fervent thanks for the mercy which had been vouchsafed them, and then Lancelot, springing impetuously to his feet, vowed that he would ride forth in search of the Holy Grail and would know no rest until he had beheld it unveiled. This vow was echoed by all the knights of the Round Table; and when Arthur now questioned them closely, he discovered that none had seen the vessel unveiled. Still he could not prevent his knights from setting out in quest of it, because they had solemnly vowed to do so.
"'Nay, lord, I heard the sound, I saw the light,But since I did not see the Holy Thing,I sware a vow to follow it till I saw.'
"Then when he ask'd us, knight by knight, if anyHad seen it, all their answers were as one:'Nay, lord, and therefore have we sworn our vows.'"TENNYSON,The Holy Grail.
[Sidenote: Quest of the Holy Grail.] During this quest the knights traveled separately or in pairs all through the world, encountered many dangers, and in true mediaeval fashion defended damsels in distress, challenged knights, and covered themselves with scars and glory. Some of the legends declare that Parzival alone saw the Holy Grail, while others aver that Lancelot saw it through a veil faintly. The pure Galahad, having never sinned at all, and having spent years in prayer and fasting, finally beheld it just as his immaculate soul was borne to heaven by the angels.
The rest of the knights, realizing after many years' fruitless search that they were unworthy of the boon, finally returned to Camelot, where they were duly entertained by the queen. While they were feasting at her table, one of their number, having partaken of a poisonous draught, fell lifeless to the ground. As the incident had happened at the queen's side, some of her detractors accused her of the crime, and bade her confess, or prove her innocence by a judicial duel. Being her husband, Arthur was debarred by law of the privilege of fighting for her in the lists of Camelot, and the poor queen would have been condemned to be burned alive for lack of a champion had not Lancelot appeared incognito, and forced her accuser to retract his words.
Throughout his reign Arthur had been wont to encourage his knights by yearly tournaments, the victor's prize being each time a precious jewel. It seems that these jewels had come into his possession in a peculiar way. While wandering as a lad in Lyonesse, Arthur found the moldering bones of two kings. Tradition related that these monarchs had slain each other, and, as they were brothers, the murder seemed so heinous that none dared touch their remains. There among the rusty armor lay a kingly crown studded with diamonds, which Arthur picked up and carelessly set upon his own head. At that very moment a prophetic voice was heard declaring to him that he should rule. Arthur kept the crown, and made each jewel set in it the object of a brilliant pageant when the prophecy had been fulfilled.
"And Arthur came, and laboring up the pass,All in a misty moonshine, unawaresHad trodden that crown'd skeleton, and the skullBrake from the nape, and from the skull the crownRoll'd into light, and turning on its rimsFled like a glittering rivulet to the tarn.And down the shingly scaur he plunged, and caught,And set it on his head, and in his heartHeard murmurs,—'Lo! thou likewise shalt be King.'"TENNYSON,Lancelot and Elaine.
[Sidenote: Lancelot's prowess.] Lancelot had been present at every one of these knightly games, and had easily borne away the prize, for his very name was almost enough to secure him the victory. When the time for the last tournament came, he pretended to take no interest in it; but, riding off to Astolat (Guildford), he asked Elaine, the fair maiden who dwelt there, to guard his blazoned shield and give him another in exchange.
This fair lady, who had fallen in love with Lancelot at first sight, immediately complied with his request, and even timidly suggested that he should wear her colors in the coming fray. Lancelot had never worn any favors except Guinevere's, but thinking that it would help to conceal his identity, he accepted the crimson, pearl-embroidered sleeve she offered, and fastened it to his helmet in the usual way.
"'Lady, thy sleeve thou shalt off-shear,I wol it take for the love of thee;So did I never no lady's ere [before]But one, that most hath loved me.'"ELLIS,Lancelot du Lac.
Thus effectually disguised, and accompanied by Sir Lawaine, Elaine's brother, Lancelot rode on to the tournament, where, still unknown, he unhorsed every knight and won the prize. His last encounter, however, nearly proved fatal, for in it he received a grievous wound. As he felt faint, and was afraid to be recognized, Lancelot did not wait to claim the prize, but rode immediately out of the town. He soon fainted, but was conveyed to the cell of a neighboring hermit. Here his wound was dressed, and he was carefully nursed by Elaine, who had heard that he was wounded, and had immediately set out in search of him.
[Sidenote: Lancelot and Elaine.] When Lancelot, entirely recovered, was about to leave Elaine after claiming his own shield, she timidly confessed her love, hoping that it was returned. Gently and sorrowfully Lancelot repulsed her, and, by her father's advice, was even so discourteous as to leave her without a special farewell. Unrequited love soon proved too much for the "lily maid of Astolat," who pined away very rapidly. Feeling that her end was near, she dictated a farewell letter to Lancelot, which she made her father promise to put in her dead hand. She also directed that her body should be laid in state on a barge, and sent in charge of a mute boatman to Camelot, where she was sure she would receive a suitable burial from the hands of Lancelot.
In the meanwhile the hero of the tournament had been sought everywhere by Gawain, who was the bearer of the diamond won at such a cost. Coming to Astolat before Lancelot was cured, Gawain had learned the name of the victor, which he immediately proclaimed to Guinevere. The queen, however, hearing a vague rumor that Lancelot had worn the colors of the maiden of Astolat, and was about to marry her, grew so jealous that when Lancelot reappeared at court she received him very coldly, and carelessly flung his present (a necklace studded with the diamonds he had won at various tournaments) into the river flowing beneath the castle walls.
"She seized,And, thro' the casement standing wide for heat,Flung them, and down they flash'd, and smote the stream.Then from the smitten surface flash'd, as it were,Diamonds to meet them, and they passed away."TENNYSON,Lancelot and Elaine.
[Illustration: ELAINE—Rosenthal.]
[Sidenote: The funeral barge.] As he leaned out of the window to trace them in their fall, Lancelot saw a barge slowly drifting down the stream. Its peculiar appearance attracted his attention, and as it passed close by him he saw that it bore a corpse. A moment later he had recognized the features of the dead Elaine. The mute boatman paused at the castle steps, and Arthur had the corpse borne into his presence. The letter was found and read aloud in the midst of the awestruck court. Arthur, touched by the girl's love, bade Lancelot fulfill her last request and lay her to rest. Lancelot then related the brief story of the maiden, whose love he could not return, but whose death he sincerely mourned.
"'My lord liege Arthur, and all ye that hear,Know that for this most gentle maiden's deathRight heavy am I; for good she was and true,But loved me with a love beyond all loveIn women, whomsoever I have known.Yet to be loved makes not to love again;Not at my years, however it hold in youth.I swear by truth and knighthood that I gaveNo cause, not willingly, for such a love:To this I call my friends in testimony,Her brethren, and her father, who himselfBesought me to be plain and blunt, and use,To break her passion, some discourtesyAgainst my nature: what I could, I did.I left her and I bade her no farewell;Tho', had I dreamt the damsel would have died,I might have put my wits to some rough use,And help'd her from herself.'"TENNYSON,Lancelot and Elaine.
Haunted by remorse for this involuntary crime, Lancelot again wandered away from Camelot, but returned in time to save Guinevere, who had again been falsely accused. In his indignation at the treatment to which she had been exposed, Lancelot bore her off to Joyeuse Garde, where he swore he would defend her even against the king. Arthur, whose mind, in the mean while, had been poisoned by officious courtiers, besieged his recreant wife and knight; but although repeatedly challenged, the loyal Lancelot ever refused to bear arms directly against his king.
When the Pope heard of the dissension in England he finally interfered; and Lancelot, assured that Guinevere would henceforth be treated with all due respect, surrendered her to the king and retreated to his paternal estate in Brittany. As Arthur's resentment against Lancelot had not yet cooled, he left Guinevere under the care and protection of Mordred, his nephew,—some versions say his son,—and then, at the head of a large force, departed for Brittany.
[Sidenote: Treachery of Mordred.] Mordred the traitor immediately took advantage of his uncle's absence to lay claim to the throne; and loudly declaring that Arthur had been slain, he tried to force Guinevere to marry him. As she demurred, he kept her a close prisoner, and set her free only when she pretended to agree with his wishes, and asked permission to go to London to buy wedding finery.
When Guinevere arrived in that city she intrenched herself in the Tower, and sent word to her husband of her perilous position. Without any delay Arthur abandoned the siege of Lancelot's stronghold, and, crossing the channel, encountered Mordred's army near Dover.
Negotiations now took place, and it was finally agreed that Arthur and a certain number of knights should meet Mordred with an equal number, and discuss the terms of peace. It had been strictly enjoined on both parties that no weapon should be drawn, and all would have gone well had not an adder been lurking in the grass. One of the knights drew his sword to kill it, and this unexpected movement proved the signal for one of the bloodiest battles described in mediaeval poetry.
"An addere crept forth of a bushe,Stunge one o' th' king's knightes on the knee.Alacke! it was a woefulle chance,As ever was in Christientie;When the knighte founde him wounded sore,And sawe the wild worme hanginge there,His sworde he from the scabbarde drewe;A piteous case, as ye shall heare;For when the two hostes saw the sworde,They joyned in battayle instantlye;Till of so manye noble knightes,On one side there was left but three."King Arthur's Death.
[Sidenote: Arthur wounded.] On both sides the knights fought with the utmost courage, and when nearly all were slain, Arthur encountered the traitor Mordred. Summoning all his strength, the exhausted king finally slew the usurper, who, in dying, dealt Arthur a mortal blow. This would never have occurred, however, had not Morgana the fay, Arthur's sister, purloined his magic scabbard and substituted another. All the enemy's host had perished, and of Arthur's noble army only one man remained alive, Sir Bedivere, a knight of the Round Table. He hastened to the side of his fallen master, who in faltering accents now bade him take the brand Excalibur, cast it far from him into the waters of the lake, and return to report what he should see. The knight, thinking it a pity to throw away so valuable a sword, concealed it twice; but the dying monarch detected the fraud, and finally prevailed upon Bedivere to fulfill his wishes. As the magic blade touched the waters Sir Bedivere saw a hand and arm rise up from the depths to seize it, brandish it thrice, and disappear.
"'Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, lest the gemsShould blind my purpose; for I never saw,Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I die,Not tho' I live three lives of mortal men,So great a miracle as yonder hilt.Then with both hands I flung him, wheeling him;But when I look'd again, behold an arm,Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,That caught him by the hilt, and brandish'd himThree times, and drew him under in the mere.'"TENNYSON,The Passing of Arthur.
Arthur gave a sigh of relief when he heard this report; and after telling his faithful squire that Merlin had declared that he should not die, he bade the knight lay him in a barge, all hung with black, wherein he would find Morgana the fay, the Queen of Northgallis, and the Queen of the Westerlands.
Sir Bedivere obeyed all these orders exactly; and then, seeing his beloved king about to leave him, he implored permission to accompany him. This, however, Arthur could not grant, for it had been decreed that he should go alone to the island of Avalon, where he hoped to be cured of his grievous wound, and some day to return to his sorrowing people.
"'But now farewell. I am going a long wayWith these thou seest—if indeed I go(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)—To the island-valley of Avilion;Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it liesDeep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawnsAnd bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea,Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.'"TENNYSON,The Passing of Arthur.
[Sidenote: Arthur in Avalon.] It was because Arthur thus disappeared and was never seen again, according to one version of the myth, and because none knew whether he were living or dead, that he was popularly supposed to be enjoying perpetual youth and bliss in the fabled island of Avalon, whence they averred he would return when his people needed him. This belief was so deeply rooted in England that Philip of Spain, upon marrying Mary, was compelled to take a solemn oath whereby he bound himself to relinquish the crown in favor of Arthur should he appear to claim it.
"Still look the Britons for the dayOf Arthur's coming o'er the sea."LAYAMON,Brut.
Other romances and poems relate that Arthur was borne in the sable-hung barge to Glastonbury, where his remains were laid in the tomb, while Guinevere retired into the nunnery at Almesbury. There she was once more visited by the sorrowing Lancelot, who, in spite of all his haste, had come upon the scene too late to save or be reconciled to the king, to whom he was still devotedly attached. In his sorrow and remorse the knight withdrew into a hermitage, where he spent six years in constant penance and prayer. At last he was warned in a vision that Guinevere was no more. He hastened to Almesbury, and found her really dead. After burying her by Arthur's side, in the chapel of Glastonbury, Lancelot again withdrew to his cell. Six weeks later, worn to a shadow by abstinence and night watches, he peacefully passed away, and a priest watching near him said that he had seen the angels receive and bear his ransomed spirit straight up to heaven.
Lancelot was buried either at Arthur's feet or at Joyeuse Garde. He was deeply mourned by all his friends, and especially by his heir, Sir Ector de Maris, who eulogized him in the following touching terms: "'Ah, Sir Lancelot,' he said, 'thou were head of all Christian knights; and now I dare say,' said Sir Ector, 'that, Sir Lancelot, there thou liest, thou were never matched of none earthly knight's hands; and thou were the courtliest knight that ever bare shield; and thou were the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrode horse; and thou were the truest lover of a sinful man that ever loved woman; and thou were the kindest man that ever struck with sword; and thou were the goodliest person that ever came among press of knights; and thou were the meekest man, and the gentlest, that ever ate in hall among ladies; and thou were the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that ever put spear in rest.'"
[Sidenote: Origin of the story.] The story of Tristan, which seems to have been current from earliest times, refers, perhaps, to the adventures of a knight, the contemporary of Arthur or of Cassivellaunus. The tale seems to have already been known in the sixth century, and was soon seized upon by the bards, who found it a rich theme for their metrical romances. It is quite unknown whether it was first turned into Latin, French, or Welsh verse; but an established fact is that it has been translated into every European language, and was listened to with as much interest by the inhabitants of Iceland as by those of the sunny plains of Greece.
We know that there are metrical versions, or remains of metrical versions, attributed to Thomas of Ercildoune (the Rhymer), to Raoul de Beauvais, Chrestien de Troyes, Rusticien de Pise, Luces de Cast, Robert and Hélie de Borron, and Gottfried von Strassburg, and that in our day it has been retold by Matthew Arnold and Swinburne, and made the subject of an opera by Wagner. These old metrical versions, recited with manifold variations by the minstrels, were finally collected into a prose romance, like most of the mediaeval poems of this kind.
The outline of the story, collected from many different sources, is as follows:
Meliadus (Rivalin, or Roland Rise) was Lord of Lyonesse (Ermonie, or Parmenia), and after warring for some time against Morgan, he entered into a seven-years' truce. This time of respite was employed by Meliadus in visiting Mark, King of Cornwall, who dwelt at Tintagel, where he was holding a great tournament. Many knights of tried valor hurried thither to win laurels, but none were able to unhorse Meliadus, who obtained every prize.
His courage was such that he even won the heart of Blanchefleur, the sister of the king. As the monarch refused to consent to their union, the young people were secretly married, or eloped, if we are to believe another version of the story.
[Sidenote: Birth of Tristan.] According to the first account, Blanchefleur remained at court, where, hearing that her husband had died, she breathed her last in giving birth to a son, whom she called Tristan (Tristrem), because he had come into the world under such sad circumstances. The second version relates that Blanchefleur died as Morgan entered the castle over her husband's dead body, and that her faithful retainer, Kurvenal (Rohand, Rual), in order to save her son, claimed him as his own.
The child Tristan grew up without knowing his real parentage, learned all that a knight was expected to know, and became especially expert as a hunter and as a harp player. One day he strolled on board of a Norwegian vessel which had anchored in the harbor near his ancestral home, and accepted the challenge of the Norsemen to play a game of chess for a certain wager.
As Tristan played at chess as well as upon the harp, he soon won the game; but the Northmen, rather than pay their forfeited wager, suddenly raised the anchor and sailed away, intending to sell the kidnaped youth as a slave.
"Ther com a ship of Norway,To Sir Rohandes hold,With haukes white and grey,And panes fair y-fold:Tristrem herd it say,On his playing he woldTventi schilling to lay,Sir Rohand him told,And taught;For hauke silver he gold;The fairest men him raught."SCOTT,Sir Tristrem.
They had not gone far, however, before a terrible tempest arose, which threatened to sink the vessel and drown all on board. The mariners, supposing in their terror that this peril had come upon them because they had acted dishonorably, made a solemn vow to liberate the youth if they escaped.
The vow having been made, the wind ceased to blow; and anchoring in the nearest bay, the Norsemen bade Tristan land, and paid him the sum he had won at chess.
[Sidenote: Tristan in Cornwall.] Thus forsaken on an unknown shore, with nothing but his harp and bow, Tristan wandered through an extensive forest, where, coming across a party of huntsmen who had just slain a deer, he gave them valuable and lengthy instructions in matters pertaining to the chase, and taught them how to flay and divide their quarry according to the most approved mediaeval style. Then, accompanying them to the court of their master, King Mark, he charmed every one with his minstrelsy, and was invited to tarry there as long as he pleased. His foster father, Kurvenal, in the mean while, had set out to seek him; and in the course of his wanderings he too came to Mark's court, where he was overjoyed to find Tristan, whose parentage he revealed to the king.
Tristan now for the first time heard the story of his father's death, and refused to rest until he had avenged him. He immediately set out, slew Morgan, and recovered his father's estate of Lyonesse, which he intrusted to Kurvenal's care, while he himself went back to Cornwall. On arriving at Tintagel he was surprised to find all the court plunged in sorrow. Upon inquiring the cause he was informed that Morold, brother of the King of Ireland, had come to claim the usual tribute of three hundred pounds of silver and tin and three hundred promising youths to be sold into slavery.
Indignant at this claim, which had been enforced ever since Mark had been defeated in battle by the Irish king, Tristan boldly strode up to the emissary, tore the treaty in two, flung the pieces in his face, and challenged him to single combat. Morold, confident in his strength,—for he was a giant,—and relying particularly upon his poisoned sword, immediately accepted the challenge. When the usual preliminaries had been settled, the battle began.
"Sir Morold rode upon his steed,And flew against Tristan with speedStill greater than is falcons' flight;But warlike too was Tristan's might."GOTTFRIED VON STRASSBURG (Dippold's tr.).
Terrible blows were given and received, and at last Tristan sank to the ground on one knee, for his opponent's poisoned weapon had pierced his side.
Morold then called upon him to acknowledge himself beaten, promising to obtain a balsam from his sister Iseult (Isolde, Ysolde), who knew a remedy for such a dangerous wound. But Tristan, remembering that, if he surrendered, three hundred innocent children would be sold as slaves, made a last despairing effort, and slew Morold. Such was the force of the blow he dealt that he cut through the helmet and pierced Morold's skull, which was so hard that a fragment of his sword remained imbedded within the wound.
The people of Cornwall were, of course, delighted; and while the Irish heralds returned empty-handed to Dublin with Morold's remains, the King of Cornwall loudly proclaimed that as he had no son, Tristan should be his heir.
[Sidenote: Tristan's wound.] Tristan, however, was far from happy, for the wound in his side refused to heal, and gradually became so offensive that no one could bear his presence. As none of the court doctors could relieve him, he remembered Morold's words, and resolved to go to Ireland, in hopes that Iseult would cure him. Conscious, however, that she would never consent to help him if she suspected his identity, he embarked alone, or with Kurvenal, in a small vessel, taking only his harp, and drifted toward Ireland, where he arrived at the end of fifteen days. When he appeared at court, Tristan declared that he was a wandering minstrel called Tantris, and bespoke the kind offices of the queen, Iseult. Charmed by his music, she hastened to cure him of the grievous wound from which he had suffered so much.
Tristan, still unknown, remained at the Irish court for some time, spending many hours with Iseult, the daughter and namesake of the queen, whom he instructed daily in the art of music. After some months passed thus in pleasant intercourse, Tristan returned to Cornwall, where he related to Mark the story of his cure, and so extolled the beauty of young Iseult that the king finally expressed a desire to marry her. By the advice of the courtiers, who were jealous of Tristan, and who hoped that this mission would cost him his life, the young hero was sent to Ireland with an imposing retinue, to sue for the maiden's hand and to escort her safely to Cornwall.
On landing in Dublin, Tristan immediately became aware that the people were laboring under an unusual excitement. Upon questioning them he learned that a terrible dragon had taken up its station near the city, that it was devastating the country, and that the king had promised the hand of Iseult to the man who would slay the monster. Tristan immediately concluded that by killing the dragon he would have the best chance of successfully carrying out his uncle's wishes, so he sallied forth alone to attack it.
"This dragon had two furious wings,Each one upon each shoulder;With a sting in his tayl as long as a flayl,Which made him bolder and bolder.
"He had long claws, and in his jawsFour and forty teeth of iron;With a hide as tough as any buffWhich did him round environ."Dragon of Wantly(Old Ballad).
[Sidenote: Tristan and the dragon.] In spite of the fearful appearance of this dragon, and of the volumes of fire and venom which it belched forth, Tristan encountered it bravely, and finally slew it. Then, cutting out the monster's tongue, he thrust it into his pocket, intending to produce it at the right moment. He had gone only a few steps, however, when, exhausted by his prolonged conflict, stunned by the poisonous fumes which he had inhaled, and overcome by the close contact with the dragon's tongue, he sank fainting to the ground. A few moments later the butler of the Irish king rode up. He saw the dragon dead, with his conqueror lifeless beside him, and quickly resolved to take advantage of this fortunate chance to secure the hand of the fair princess. He therefore cut off the dragon's head, and, going to court, boasted of having slain the monster just as it had killed a strange knight. Iseult and her mother, well aware that the man was a coward, refused to believe his story, and hastened off to the scene of the conflict, where they found the fainting Tristan with the dragon's tongue in his pocket.
To remove the poisonous substance, (which they, however, preserved,) convey the knight to the palace, and restore him by tender care, was the next impulse of these brave women. Then, while Iseult the younger sat beside her patient, watching his slumbers, she idly drew his sword from the scabbard. Suddenly her eye was caught by a dint in the blade, which she soon discovered was of exactly the same shape and size as the fragment of steel which she had found in her uncle's skull.
"Then all at once her heart grew coldIn thinking of that deed of old.Her color changed through grief and ireFrom deadly pale to glowing fire.With sorrow she exclaimed: 'Alas!Oh, woe! what has now come to pass?Who carried here this weapon dread,By which mine uncle was struck dead?And he who slew him, Tristan hight.Who gave it to this minstrel knight?'"GOTTFRIED VON STRASSBURG (Dippold's tr.).
Morold's murderer lay helpless before her, and Iseult, animated by the spirit of vengeance, which was considered a sacred duty among the people of the time, was about to slay Tristan, when he opened his eyes and disarmed her by a glance. Her mother further hindered her carrying out her hostile intentions by telling her that Tristan had atoned for his crime by delivering the people from the power of the dragon.
As soon as Tristan had quite recovered, he appeared at court, where he offered to prove at the point of his sword that the butler had no claim to the princess's hand. A duel was arranged, and the butler, disarmed by Tristan, confessed his lie. Tristan then produced the dragon's tongue and told his adventures; but, to the general surprise, instead of suing for Iseult's hand for himself, he now asked it in the name of his uncle, King Mark of Cornwall.
[Sidenote: The love potion.] The young princess was none too well pleased at this unexpected turn of affairs; but, as princesses never had much to say about the choice of a husband, she obediently prepared to accompany the embassy to Tintagel. Her mother, wishing to preserve her from a loveless marriage, now sought out all manner of herbs wherewith to brew one of those magic love potions which were popularly supposed to have unlimited powers.
"Bethought her with her secret soul aloneTo work some charm for marriage unison,And strike the heart of Iseult to her lordWith power compulsive more than stroke of sword."SWINBURNE,Tristram of Lyonesse.
This magic potion was put in a golden cup and intrusted to Brangwaine, the attendant of Iseult, with strict injunctions to guard the secret well, and to give the draught to her mistress and Mark to quaff together on their wedding day.
"Therefore with marvelous herbs and spells she wroughtTo win the very wonder of her thought,And brewed it with her secret hands, and blestAnd drew and gave out of her secret breastTo one her chosen and Iseult's handmaiden,Brangwain, and bade her hide from sight of menThis marvel covered in a golden cup,So covering in her heart the counsel upAs in the gold the wondrous wine lay close."SWINBURNE,Tristram of Lyonesse.
Brangwaine carefully carried this potion on board the ship, and placed it in a cupboard, whence she intended to produce it when the suitable moment came. Iseult embarked with the escort sent from Cornwall, and Tristan, in order to beguile the long, weary hours of the journey, entertained her with all the songs and stories that he knew. One day, after singing for some time, he asked his fair young mistress for a drink; and she, going to the cupboard, drew out the magic potion, little guessing its power.
As was customary in those days in offering wine to an honored guest, she first put it to her own lips and then handed it to the thirsty minstrel, who drained it greedily. They had no sooner drunk, however, than the draught, working with subtle power, suddenly kindled in their hearts a passionate love, destined to last as long as they both lived.
"Now that the maiden and the man,Fair Iseult and Tristan,Both drank the drink, upon them pressedWhat gives the world such sore unrest,—Love, skilled in sly and prowling arts,—And swiftly crept in both their hearts;So, ere of him they were aware,Stood his victorious banners there.He drew them both into his power;One and single were they that hourThat two and twofold were before."GOTTFRIED VON STRASSBURG (Bayard Taylor's tr.).
After the first few hours of rapture had passed, the young people, who honorably intended to keep their word and conquer the fatal passion which had overwhelmed them, remained apart, and when Iseult landed in Cornwall her marriage was celebrated with Mark. Brangwaine, who knew all that had passed, tried to shield her mistress in every way, and blind the king, who is depicted as a very unheroic monarch, but little fitted to secure the affections of the proud young Iseult.
[Sidenote: Tristan and Iseult.] This story of a love potion whose magic power none could resist, and of the undying love which it kindled in the unsuspecting hearts of Tristan and Iseult, has been treated in many ways by the different poets and prose writers who have handled it. In many of the older versions we have lengthy descriptions of stolen interviews, hairbreadth escapes, and tests of love, truth, and fidelity without number.
In many respects the story is a parallel of that of Lancelot and Guinevere, although it contains some incidents which are duplicated in the "Nibelungenlied" only. But throughout, the writers all aver that, owing to the magic draught, the lovers, however good their intentions, could not long exist without seeing each other.
By means of this boundless love Tristan is said to have had an intuitive knowledge of Iseult's peril, for he hastened to rescue her from danger whenever events took a turn which might prove fatal to her. There are in some of these old romances pretty descriptions of scenery and of the signals used by the lovers to communicate with each other when forced by adverse circumstances to remain apart. One of the poems, for instance, says that Tristan's love messages were written on chips of wood, which he floated down the little stream which flowed past his sylvan lodge and crossed the garden of the queen.
[Sidenote: Meliadus.] The inevitable villain of the tale is one of Mark's squires, the spy Meliadus, also a very unheroic character, who told the king of Tristan's love for Iseult. Mark, who all through the story seems strangely indifferent to his beautiful wife, was not aware of the magic draught and its powerful effect, but Meliadus roused him temporarily from his apathy.
[Illustration: ISEULT SIGNALS TRISTAN.—Pixis.]
As the queen had been publicly accused, he compelled her to prove her innocence by undergoing the ordeal of fire, or by taking a public oath that she had shown favor to none but him. On her way to the place where this ceremony was to take place, Iseult was carried across a stream by Tristan disguised as a beggar, and, at his request, kissed him in reward for this service.
When called upon to take her oath before the judges and assembled court, Iseult could truthfully swear that, with the exception of the beggar whom she had just publicly kissed, no other man than the king could ever boast of having received any special mark of her favor.
Thus made aware of their danger, the lovers again decided to part, and Tristan, deprived for a time of the sight of Iseult, went mad, and performed many extraordinary feats; for mediaeval poets generally drove their heroes into a frenzy when they did not know what else to do with them. Having recovered, and hoping to forget the fatal passion which had already caused him so much sorrow, Tristan now wandered off to Arthur's court, where he performed many deeds of valor. Thence he went on to various strange lands, distinguishing himself greatly everywhere, until he received from a poisoned arrow a wound which no doctor could heal.
[Sidenote: Iseult of Brittany.] Afraid to expose himself again to the fascinations of Iseult of Cornwall, Tristan went to Brittany, where another Iseult,—with the White Hands,—equally well skilled in medicine, tenderly nursed him back to health. This maiden, as good and gentle as she was beautiful, soon fell in love with the handsome knight, and hearing him sing a passionate lay in honor of Iseult, she fancied that her affections were returned, and that it was intended for her ear.
"I know her by her mildness rare,Her snow-white hands, her golden hair;I know her by her rich silk dress,And her fragile loveliness,—The sweetest Christian soul alive,Iseult of Brittany."MATTHEW ARNOLD,Tristram and Iseult.
The brother of this fair Iseult saw her love for Tristan, and offered him her hand, which he accepted more out of gratitude than love, and in the hope that he might at last overcome the effects of the fatal draught. But, in spite of all his good resolutions, he could not forget Iseult of Cornwall, and treated his wife with such polite coolness that her brother's suspicions were finally roused.
Tristan, having conquered a neighboring giant and magician by the name of Beliagog, had granted him his life only upon condition that he would build a marvelous palace in the forest, and adorn it with paintings and sculptures, true to life, and representing all the different stages of his passion for Iseult of Cornwall. When his brother-in-law, therefore, asked why he seemed to find no pleasure in the society of his young wife, Tristan led him to the palace, showed him the works of art, and told him all. Ganhardin, the brother-in-law, must evidently have considered the excuse a good one, for he not only forgave Tristan, but implored him to take him to Cornwall, for he had fallen in love with the picture of Brangwaine, and hoped to win her for wife. On the way thither the young knights met with sundry adventures, delivered Arthur from the power of the Lady of the Lake, and carried off Iseult, whom the cowardly Mark was ill treating, to Lancelot's castle of Joyeuse Garde. There she became acquainted with Guinevere, and remained with her until Arthur brought about a general reconciliation.
Then Tristan once more returned to Brittany, resumed his wonted knightly existence, and fought until he was wounded so sorely that Iseult of Brittany could not cure him. His faithful steward Kurvenal, hoping yet to save him, sailed for Cornwall to bring the other Iseult to the rescue; and as he left he promised his master to change the black sails of the vessel for white in case his quest were successful.
Tristan now watched impatiently for the returning sail, but just as it came into view he breathed his last. Some ill-advised writers have ventured to state that Iseult of Brittany, whose jealousy had been aroused, was guilty of Tristan's death by falsely averring, in answer to his feverish inquiry, that the long-expected vessel was wafted along by black sails; but, according to other authorities, she remained gentle and lovable to the end.
[Sidenote: Miracle of the plants.] Iseult of Cornwall, speeding to the rescue of her lover, whom nothing could make her forget, and finding him dead, breathed her last upon his corpse. Both bodies were then carried to Cornwall, where they were interred in separate graves by order of King Mark. But from the tomb of the dead minstrel there soon sprang a creeper, which, finding its way along the walls, descended into Iseult's grave. Thrice cut down by Mark's orders, the plant persisted in growing, thus emphasizing by a miracle the passionate love which made this couple proverbial in the middle ages. There are in subsequent literature many parallels of the miracle of the plant which sprang from Tristan's tomb, as is seen by the Ballad of Lord Thomas and Fair Annet, and of Lord Lovel, where, as in later versions of the Tristan legend, a rose and a vine grew out of the respective graves and twined tenderly around each other.
"And out of her breast there grew a red rose,And out of his breast a brier."Ballad of Lord Lovel.