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 gave No cause, not willingly, for such a love: To this I call my friends in testimony, Her brethren, and her father, who himself Besought me to be plain and blunt, and use, To break her pa.s.sion, some discourtesy Against 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, a.s.sured 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 gra.s.s. 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 n.o.ble 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 subst.i.tuted another. All the enemy's host had perished, and of Arthur's n.o.ble 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 gems Should 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 him Three times, and drew him under in the mere.'"

TENNYSON, _The Pa.s.sing 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 way With 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 lies Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.'"

TENNYSON, _The Pa.s.sing 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 day Of Arthur's coming o'er the sea."

LAYAMON, _Brut_.

Other romances and poems relate that Arthur was borne in the sable-hung barge to Glas...o...b..ry, 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 Glas...o...b..ry, Lancelot again withdrew to his cell.

Six weeks later, worn to a shadow by abstinence and night watches, he peacefully pa.s.sed 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.'"

CHAPTER XIV.

TRISTAN AND ISEULT.

[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 Ca.s.sivellaunus. 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 Helie de Borron, and Gottfried von Stra.s.sburg, 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 circ.u.mstances. 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 anch.o.r.ed in the harbor near his ancestral home, and accepted the challenge of the Nors.e.m.e.n 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 wold Tventi 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 Nors.e.m.e.n bade Tristan land, and paid him the sum he had won at chess.

[Sidenote: Tristan in Cornwall.] Thus forsaken on an unknown sh.o.r.e, 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 speed Still greater than is falcons' flight; But warlike too was Tristan's might."

GOTTFRIED VON STRa.s.sBURG (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 ident.i.ty, 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 pa.s.sed 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 jaws Four and forty teeth of iron; With a hide as tough as any buff Which did him round environ."